Operation Hydra (28 page)

Following the instructions on the vidscreen, she called up the schematic, but paused before activating the three dimensional diagram.

“There was no trace of their departure, because Hydran never left. They went underground.” She activated the viewer. “I give you — the Warren.”

“The Warren was a veritable city,” Krysta explained. “At the height of its development, hundreds of people could remain underground for years. The schematics we found indicate areas requiring advanced technology, like greenhouses, laboratories, and medical units, were situated closer to the surface, while the living quarters, armories, and storage facilities occupied the lower levels.”

“May I be so bold as to ask how you know so much about a top-secret, government facility?” Director Cohn asked.

“I never said it was top-secret,” she challenged evenly, meeting his gaze directly for the first time. There was nothing overly obnoxious about Director Cohn, but his condescending tone nettled her.

He didn’t flinch. “It would only stand to reason that something of the magnitude you describe would be government operated and top-secret. Besides, you said it existed before the demilitarization of the Rocky Mountain Zone.”

She couldn’t argue with that. Experience had made her suspicious by nature. “I’m one of Hydran’s —
projects
. I was born in the Center.” She answered his earlier question.

“You have my sincere apology. If Tor Meter had done his job, the PC for FE would have protected you from at least a small portion of what you suffered.”

She lowered her lashes while she gathered her thoughts. The director seemed earnest enough, but she suspected Randolph Tor Meter was responsible for the implants, so the real debate would have to wait for a more appropriate venue.

“I’ve studied the history of this area. From the nearly apocalyptic devastation of the Interstate Wars to the Continental Demilitarization Act that finally restored natural beauty to the mountains, I’ve learned as much as I can. Though most of the specifics were omitted, the Warren is mentioned in many of the articles I read. I had no idea I was living right on top of it.”

“And how did you discover the location of the Warren?”

It was a simple question, but Krysta felt an inkling of fear as the director’s clear blue eyes stared at her. He had a legitimate interest in the subject, still she hesitated. “I’d prefer not to say.”

He shrugged and folded his arms across his chest.
“Fine.
I presume you still want to find Dr. Hydran, and I need to bring in my agent, so what’s next, Ms. — I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“
Lady
dar
Aune.” Trey supplied.

The director snorted.
“Of course.
Is that name like Smith or Nedstig on Ontariese?”

No one was amused.

Krysta turned to Trey. “Al told me the ship can scan for any power source, even underground. He and ‘the other computer person’ are continuing the search, now that they know what they’re looking for.”

“I’ll go check their progress,” Trey decided. “By the way, the other computer person’s name is Jae.”

“Jae dar Aune?”
Director Cohn drawled.

“No, Jae cet Malaque.”

Krysta didn’t bother hiding her smile. His pronunciation had been so heavily Ontarian that had she not known there were three separate words in the name, she would have thought it was one extended syllable. Director Cohn wasn’t gaining any ground for the PC for FE with this Ontarian delegation.

* * * * *

The plan was simple. Tal transported everyone to the courtyard, except for the two crewmembers necessary to navigate the
Gale
. The ship deserted its position directly above the Center, which should lead Hydran to believe he had succeeded in fooling them.

The ship’s scanners had confirmed a power source and narrowed the location, but largely they were dependant on the images in Krysta’s vision. Krysta insisted Director Cohn had no legitimate reason to participate in the rescue. If and when they found General Tor Meter, they would turn him over to Director Cohn for prosecution. Cohn was none too pleased by this development, but he was unable to convince the others she was being paranoid. His transport moved out of sensor range as well, reinforcing the illusion that the Center was being deserted.

The team from the
Gale
paused in the courtyard and all eyes turned toward Krysta. “I don’t know where I was when I fell,” she said, “but I emerged in the treatment chamber.”

“The treatment chamber?”
Trey questioned. “Are you sure that particular image wasn’t just part of your overall —”

Tal stepped between them. “Krysta, you must learn to trust your Mystic instincts. Do not be influenced by my brother’s negativity, but search your being. Was the image part of the vision or was it —”

“That’s what
I
just asked her,” Trey flared.

He stomped away. It was happening already. They hadn’t even made it to Ontariese and Krysta was being steeped in the arrogance — the prejudice — that would ultimately drive them apart. Surprisingly, Drakkin fell into step beside him as he marched toward the treatment center.

“Have you always resented your brother?” Drakkin asked.

“I don’t resent Tal. Under all that hair, he’s actually a likeable person.
It’s
Mystic arrogance I can’t stomach.”

“You find Mystics arrogant?”

Trey laughed. “Every one I’ve ever met.”

“Their accomplishments are extraordinary. Perhaps their arrogance is justified.”

Annoyed not only by his conclusion, but by the suspicion that Drakkin didn’t believe a word of it, Trey stopped and looked at him.
“Who are you?”

“You know who I am.”

“I know your name. I know you’re from Bilarri,
a planet
renown for two things: the esteemed Symposium — and brutal mercenaries. I know Vee has known you much longer than I’ve been alive, and yet you look much younger than Vee. And you’re
not
impressed with Ontarian Mystics.”

Drakkin clasped his hands behind his back and kept walking. “Unlike Ontariese, many races have settled on Bilarri.
Some warlike, some not.
Some interested in other worlds, some reclusive — separatists that would have us hoard our powers and reserve our training for
Mystics
born on Bilarri. If I hadn’t trained Vee, the Conservatory wouldn’t have been formed and Ontarian Mystics would be struggling — still in their infancy. So, I suppose you can blame Mystic arrogance on me.”

Trey shook his head, intrigued yet confused. “And I was just going to say, of all the Mystics I know, you’re the least arrogant.”

Drakkin laughed. “Mystic is not a term Bilarrians recognize. I am the director of the
Symposium, that
is all.”

The others caught up to them. Tal and Krysta appeared to have come to a consensus on how to proceed. Four additional crewmembers were armed and awaiting direction.

“I shall open a transport conduit in the floor of the treatment chamber. Krysta saw utility pipes in her vision and believes that the Warren levels begin directly below the Center.”

“Vee and Belle are both unconscious.” Krysta mused. “They can’t have gone far.”

Trey handed Krysta a pulse pistol and said, “A short blast will stun; a sustained beam will kill.”

Nodding her understanding, she accepted the weapon and fell in line. The doors to the treatment chamber slid open soundlessly. With the safety grid down, motion detectors now acted as triggers. She refused to look at the cracked observation window or dwell on the disquieting things her mother’s apparition had said. Once this was over and Belle was safe, she’d analyze every word, debate each possible meaning. But for now, she had to focus on defeating Hydran once and for all.

So much will happen that you will not understand. You will feel like he has won, but that’s not true. That was never the case…

Trey’s arm slipped around her shoulders, pulling her back as Tal went to work. Trey felt warm and solid. She wrapped her arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder, utilizing the momentary lull to muster her courage.

Lights flashed and the floor undulated as Tal shot a transport conduit down into the Earth. Krysta squinted, blinking repeatedly. It was beautiful and frightening. A pop echoed through the corridor below when the vortex finally broke through. Would Hydran hear? Surprise was their only real weapon. They needed Hydran to believe they’d given up.

The drop was about twelve feet. Tal held the conduit open, while two of the crewmembers lowered Trey into the corridor. Gerr went down next, so he could help stabilize the vortex from below. Within a few minutes, only Tal and Krysta remained in the treatment chamber.

“Tal, can you come through while Gerr holds it open, or do you two need to do something Mystical?” Trey muttered.

“As long as I have seen a location, I can Shift to it. You know this. But I will lower Krysta to you.”

“No, you won’t.” His gaze moved to Krysta, his expression unyielding. “Krysta, go back to the courtyard and wait for us. There’s no reason for you to be put in further danger.”

“Are you out of your mind?” She looked around for something to throw down the vortex at him. “And you call the Mystics arrogant?”

“Krysta is our only healer,” Gerr said quietly. “We do not know what it will take to revive Vee and Belle.”

Trey glared at the stoic Mystic, but didn’t argue. She clasped Tal’s wrists, surprised at how easily he supported her body, while she descended through the vortex. Trey’s hands steadied her ankles and slid to her knees. He could only reach her lower thighs before Tal had to let go.

For just a moment she was weightless.
Falling.
Panic seized her, but then she collided with Trey’s chest. His strong arms cradled her and she looked at the tiled corridor stretching off in both directions. Tal Shifted to the corridor and the conduit closed, leaving tunneled out earth and utility pipes. Krysta shivered. It was all the same — exactly the same.

“Are you all right?” Trey asked.

She nodded. “You can put me down now.”

They moved along the corridor in pairs, covering each other at the first hint of risk. Though the corner looked identical to all the others they’d passed, Krysta said, “This way.”

No one questioned her. Two turns and she found the metal staircase. Trey motioned for two of his men to stand guard. Krysta wasn’t sure why, and she didn’t stop to ask. Tal led the procession, scanning ahead as they went. Krysta reached out for Belle, willing her signal to be stronger, begging her to respond.
Even now, when they were nearly upon them, Belle’s signal felt completely unchanged.

Tal held up his hand and made a fist. He motioned to the other side of the wall, and then to the doorway beyond him. With a sharp nod, Trey agreed. Much to Krysta’s confusion, Tal led them back toward the stairs. They didn’t
ascend,
however, they congregated around the landing.

“I sensed three people beyond the wall,” Tal explained. “Two are unconscious, the third is conscious. I do not know if the conscious person is Hydran or the general. I have not had previous contact with either.”

“One at a time works for me,” Trey said. “You and Gerr go through the wall. I’ll take my men in through the door. Five to one; should be more than enough. Lord Drakkin, please guard Krysta in the corridor until we’ve secured the area.”

They were speaking in hushed tones, but Krysta wanted to rail. Why was he so determined to exclude her? Did he not trust her to pull her weight? Did he think she’d do something rash and foolish? His men were trained, obedient, and she was emotionally entangled.

You’re making this far too complicated, little one. He simply wants to keep you safe.
Her startled gaze shot to Drakkin, but his attention appeared to be fixed on Trey.

“I’ll keep her out of trouble,” the Billarian assured him.

“That’s more than I can manage.” Trey raked his fingers through his hair.

They returned to the corridor, Krysta resigned to the passive role she’d been forced to play. If there was only one conscious person and two —
two
… where was Saebin, or was Saebin the conscious person?

Lord Drakkin, something’s wrong. There should be —

We are prepared for any eventuality,
Tal cut in.

Translation, butt out and shut up. Krysta’s eyes narrowed on Tal’s back and her hand curled around her pulse pistol. Trey said the first blast would only stun. The naughty thought relieved a bit of her frustration. Tal and Gerr positioned themselves against the wall, watching silently as Trey and his men fell into formation. Trey counted them down with silent signals. They swarmed into the lab.

A piercing alarm shrieked. Krysta cried out. Her brain vibrated with excruciating pulsations. Stumbling back, she moaned. The walls of the corridor swelled and contracted sickeningly. Drakkin grasped her upper arms, trying to steady her, but she sank to her knees.

“Interesting.”
Hydran’s voice cut through the din. He stepped into the corridor, Director Cohn at his side. “Everything is working just as you promised, General Tor Meter.”

“Thank you,” Director Cohn responded. “Let’s get Drakkin over by Saebin. I thought he was a Mystic, but he seems unaffected by the sonic pulse.”

Cohn
was
Tor Meter. Krysta’s pain muddled brain comprehended little else, before Hydran grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet. Cohn — no — Tor Meter aimed a pulse pistol at Drakkin’s face and motioned toward the lab. Why didn’t Drakkin do something? Forcing her brain to function made Krysta’s stomach heave. There was no way she could speak telepathically.

Hydran moved aside and Tor Meter marched Drakkin into the lab. What happened to Trey and the Mystics? She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Each step made her shudder with pain. Tal and Gerr knelt on the floor not far from where they’d emerged through the wall. They both held their heads and moaned. Lights danced before her eyes, but Krysta stubbornly pushed onward.