Initiation of the Lost (Book 1) (5 page)

They stood in a field, an old tree with lush foliage and sprawling roots at its heart. In the shade of the tree grew little white and purple flowers, surrounded by a land of waving, amber grain.

"Picnic?"

Derek turned to see August sitting on a blue and white checkered blanket, a basket of treats, cakes and pastries, to his side. He sat too, taking a lemon bar, sweet and tangy, silky and powdery.

"You must've nailed your evaluation, Augie," he said.

August sighed. "I held back."

"'Held back?'"

"I don't know why. I just wasn't ready. This is all you."

"Not even. I helped...and was happy to. I mean–I don't know. I've enjoyed hanging out."

Derek had spent years not particularly noticing Ellington, assuming they only needed each other. But as sympathy and combat training began to intensify, he knew his chance was coming to put his name in the running for leader. And a leader needed friends. So for the first time, he reached out to August. They had never talked; yet it felt as if they had, as if they were just two acquaintances chatting about the day: training, classes, and what not. So for the past three months, they had been meeting in Derek's mind, Derek guiding his recruit through his visualizing exercises–a developed psychic was an asset afterall. First, Augie would knock, sort of. He'd feel a slight nudge, then a release as he let August in, hearing his voice in his own head. Then they'd work deeper and deeper, creating objects, then scenes. But now it was seamless, and August wanted–needed–to tell Derek why: a conditioned rapport was forming between them, a psy-link that allowed a two-way flow of thoughts, feelings, and perceptions. They were becoming entwined, and August was afraid. What if it was all too much for Derek?

"I need to tell you something."

"It sounds serious. Tell me tomorrow." Life was good–Derek felt good–nothing could change–he didn't want anything to change...between him and life, Augie and him. This person, his friend, knew things about him, his past, Connor never knew. And now the mission–

"It's a rescue mission."

"Excuse me?" August had been gazing into the sky, a flock of birds were migrating. The sun's rays were bright, but cool. He didn't like the heat.

"A symp named James Crawford was captured by the Japanese. We're going to save him. I want you on this one."

August stretched out onto the blanket and sighed. "Sure."

Derek should have confessed. He had told Dr. Farling about the extent of August's abilities during briefing. She didn't think Augie was ready for a mission; he had to explain, make her understand why he was important. But instead of briefing August, he now took in the serenity of his friend's presence, watching him watch the sky. He took another lemon bar and lay as well, resisting the urge to watch August as he fell asleep.

He's falling asleep in my mind, Derek thought, unsure what it meant, and why he was pleased.

First Priority

Morning. Away from the grassy fields and colonial wood and brick of Hyperion Academy, Team Blue stood in Hyperion Hanger, the floors of gray concrete; the walls, gray metal. Escorted by Dr. Farling, they stood before the small transport jet. August, Connor, and Abbey had spent hours rehearsing their roles in the rescue mission to unfold, only to be caught off guard when Derek, as team leader, introduced them to their pilot and new teammate, Susie Kern, a four feet five inch tall little person, her strawberry hair in pigtails. She wore pink jeans with an army fatigue coat.

As each member of Team Blue boarded the jet, they addressed Susie. Feeling a growing awareness for politeness, Abbey greeted their new team member too eagerly. Susie, sensing her new peer trying too hard to put her at ease, only became uncomfortable. But then Connor introduced himself with a hearty handshake. The firm hand and kind eyes infused her with a sense of respect and welcomehood. For so long she had worried about fitting in, and now in this instant, in the presence of this kind spirit, she felt part of a team–like she had a friend. Then August breezed by, with a nod and a squinted stare, boarding the jet with an air of disinterest. Susie didn't know what to make of him–Condescending? Distracted?–but she was leaning towards just not liking him.

The mission was designated to be the kids first due to its relative simplicity. The facility's security was more technological than manual. However, Dr. Farling was troubled by the subtle alarms of her intuition. She asked herself what would've made her calm–if it wasn't okay for everything to go well, then what should go wrong? She laughed at herself. After Susie then Derek, she boarded the jet.

The hangar roof parted, and on the propulsion of the rotating thrusters, flames bursting in a raucous of focused torrents against the ground, the jet rose out and above the hangar. The thrusters rotated, propelling them forward, soaring through the sky, higher and higher. Zipping through the air (Susie letting her "baby" flex its muscles; Connor a bit queasy), they came to a hover above a cloud. The sky parted, creating a square hole that revealed the Earth's sky. The jet ascended through the opening, and in a flash of speed, soared over the desert, on course to Japan. August sighed: the dome he had called home now shrinking...now vanished in a sparkle of sunlight.

They travelled through the zones, back in time, until once more the sky was dark, only to jump a day into the future and travel back in time once more. They left their home in the morning under the burning sun, to arrive on foreign land in their tomorrow, in the hours before sunrise.

Building 447: an Institute of Interdisciplinary Science facility, a cube building of glass and metal, in Team Blue's view as they remained under the cover of a nearby forest, the jet cloaked by an invisashield. The air was heavy between the teammates, each focusing on their respective tasks. In pairs–Abbey and Connor, Derek and August–Team Blue began the trek to the government building, Susie and Dr. Farling monitoring their progress from the transport jet. In case of ambush, Abbey and Derek would actively fight and defend attackers, respectively defending Connor and August as they engaged in the passive use of their powers.

Dr. Farling sensed ten presences in the sterile facility and deduced their functions from their emotional states: four relatively alert (surveillance guards), three moving (patrolling guards), three rather mundane (cleaning staff), and one weak, very weak (their target).

"All good?" said Susie.

"My readings are in keeping with the intel."

"Told ya it would be fine." Susie laid out on the ground, using her pack to rest her head. She yawned. Cassandra's gaze never left the building:

"And how are you finding your new role?"

Susie had worked in the Hyperion Idea Trust, unofficially referred to by its members as "The Tank." Activated symps had two types of potentials, those who manifested sympathies, and those who were born prodigies, extremely gifted if not geniuses in a field. These gen-symps worked in Hyperion's research facility where they were free to learn and invent to their heart's content.

Seeing machines as living, an extension of her self, was Susie's gift; inventing, building and fixing her own machinations, her passion (she had designed Bigsby, the hover/propulsion jet that brought the team here). She had kept her sympathy a secret, wanting to spend her life in the tank. But in a heated moment (she was a bit temperamental), she revealed her power. As was protocol, she was reassigned to the academy to be of more value.

"Mission work isn't too bad," said Susie.

Cassandra tapped against her ear, activating the hidden communicator, opening a channel to her team: "Blue, progress?"

"We've reached the door," said Derek. "Awaiting status."

Cassandra scanned the building once more: "Status quo."

Their presence had not been detected. Having reached the institute's doors, Team Blue reconfigured to prepare for the next phase of their operation. August stood in front, Connor and Derek shoulder to shoulder behind him, Abbey covering their rear.

"You ready, Augie?" said Derek, looking to his friend, concerned by his weary eyes.

"Let's do this already," said August. He stepped forward and swiped a plastic card through the doors; the doors opened.

The team walked into the lobby, a space of cream marble tiles, a sitting area with a red velvet sofa and chairs, ahead a staircase leading to higher and higher levels, and a guard at a desk.

The guard sprung up, removing his feet from the desk and planting them onto the ground. He quickly cleared his desk of snack wrappers and car magazines. Sitting upright, he trembled a little more with each step the team took towards him.

"I'm in a rush," said August. "I'll pretend I didn't see anything."

"Thank you, Dr. Sato," said the guard, falling to ease. "I promise–"

"I assume you've been working long hours. New baby and all."

"Y-yes, sir?"

"Don't look surprised. I make all staff my business. You look tired." August now leaned over the desk, looking into his eyes. "You are safe. Tired from working long hours. The stress of home. Here is the only peace and quiet you get?"

"Yes."

"You are more tired than ever."

"I am more tired than ever." He yawned.

"Then sleep."

The guard collapsed his arms on the desk and nestled his head on top, a soft snore. The team continued past the stairs, to the elevator. All aboard, Derek pushed "13."

Looking to Connor and Abbey, Team Blue's leader saw the nerves beginning to take over. Abbey kept slapping her hand against her leg like keeping time to a song in her head; Connor forced himself to exhale, like he had to think to breathe. At least for August, the strain had lessoned now that the guard was asleep.

As a psychic, August had learned the value of accessing group consciousness, how many people engaging their consciousness to one end could be viewed as one collective mind. Also, he had spent hours before the mission, studying photographs and biographical files on each guard. He worked to create a strong familiarity, a close bond with each target, conditioning a sympathy between their minds.

As the jet had approached the building, he cast a psychic net over the collective consciousness, targeting as one mind all the minds set to defend the institute. But the desk guard, preoccupied with his snacks and magazines, was not fully incorporated into the collective mind. August had to maintain the network of minds connected to his while reaching further into the guard, finding the part of his mind alert to his duties, and hence peripherally engaged with the collective mind. He had to dig deeper than he initially thought necessary. The guard had become quite comfortable in his position, having spent ten years on the job with no incident. But once August found the aspect of his mind still calibrated towards the group intention, he was able to lock the guard into the psychic network, and insert to all linked minds the illusion that he was Dr. Sato, his teammates were invisible, and it was perfectly normal to speak English. Dr. Farling had taught him these theories, and now, for the first time thanks to Derek's help, he was applying them.

Knowing each guard intimately from his hours of briefing, he psychically suggested sleep to the desk guard. To pave the way for the guard's acceptance of this suggestion, he brought to the forefront of his target's mind the things that might make him most want to sleep–his work, his family–and assured him that it was safe to do so. August had learned that the promise of safety was the equivalent of consent, allowing someone to give themselves permission to reject society's programming of how they should be, and to just be as they wished to be. It wasn't a perfect process, but thankfully the lethargic guard was quick to accept any excuse to rest.

On the thirteenth floor, the next phase proceeded. Connor and August proceeded to the surveillance center; Derek and Abbey went through the building accomplishing sneak attacks, ambushes from behind with knockout gas, tranquilizing the remaining guards and the janitors, one by one.

At the surveillance center, three men watched monitors flashing to various locations throughout the building and outside. Their minds locked into August's psychic network, they saw what he suggested: the guards patrolling, one guard at the front desk, and the janitors cleaning.

Outside the room, Connor and August were at the door. Connor placed metal charges around the portal's edges. He pushed the detonator–the charges released a fluid that burned through the reinforced door.

"They're alert," said August. "Hurry."

Connor kicked the door down: the three guards were on their feet grabbing for guns. Seeing his targets, he blinked.

"I can't see! I can't see!" cried one, dropping his gun and falling to the ground, his hands over his eyes.

Connor charged the other guard, grabbing the gun from his hand. But there was still the third, who fired aimlessly, bullets shooting through the room. Connor took the guard he apprehended and they crawled under the surveillance console. August hadn't moved. The guard kept firing around him, now aiming at the ceiling. He was seeing a creature crawling about and was trying to aim. The gun clicked. No more bullets. August dissolved the illusion.

"Sleep, and when you awake it will all be over."

The guard fell to the ground; the one who was screaming now quieted and fell into a snooze. Not many truly wanted to kill. Knowing these men, August felt an empathy towards them. He knew none of them wanted to cause harm, and he gave the two men permission to follow their natures, to not inflict injury and live in order, assuring them they had an easy way out of the chaos and would be safe.