Psion Gamma (7 page)

“Just the oldest girl,” Dr. Rosmir answered. “But she turns thirty in a year. We’ll just send her the pill to take every month. She was very cooperative about it. He watched the screen, too. Byron recognized the look in his friend’s eyes as nostalgia. “How long does it take you to get a feel for a new recruit?”

Byron shrugged. “It depends. With some of them I can tell right away. Others, it takes a month or longer. But all of them surprise me sooner or later. People are simply unpredictable. Just when you think you know someone . . .”

“They throw you a curveball.”

Commander Byron answered with a thumbs up. The remainder of the trip passed in more comfortable conversation. The weather was much milder over Capitol Island as the atmo-cruiser touched down on the rooftop of Beta headquarters.

“Just landing now, Major Tawhiri,” Byron spoke into his com. “You are relieved of duty.”

It was standard procedure for an Alpha or higher to be at the Beta building at all times to supervise the Betas. The Alphas referred to this assignment as “babysitting.” And the man who normally got that job was Major Tawhiri.

“Anything unusual I need to know about?” Byron asked as the major came up to the roof toward the cruiser.

“Nope. Everything’s hunky-dory,” Major Tawhiri answered. They shook hands briefly. “You’ve got the best job in the world, Walter.”

“Yep. Maad will take you home. Thanks for the help.”

Byron opened the door for his newest recruits. The first to step out was the girl, Strawberry Plack. She had long dark hair, darker than her brother, Brickert’s, but the same blue eyes and red spots on her cheeks. Behind her came Antonio Otravelli, an older recruit. Almost sixteen. He was the boy they’d picked up from Mediterranea. He’d been in the middle of a karate tournament championship when he’d accidentally blasted a kid trying to drop kick him. Byron spent almost a week and a half fixing that nasty problem.

Bringing up the tail came Hefani Ndumi. Commander Byron couldn’t say enough good things about Hefani. He was just an all-around great kid from a tiny village in Southwest African Territory. Byron had heard about him almost eight months after he’d manifested signs of Anomaly Fourteen.

He stuck to the same routine, ushering the recruits downstairs with the sim room all set up for his presentation. Three holo-chairs were waiting for them, each with a com box on it bearing their engraved names. Six eyes stared up, watching him expectantly, nervously, but all with some measure of trust in their eyes.

Trust. They trust me.

He had told their parents he would be training them to become government operatives. He had made them all sign non-disclosure agreements that included severe penalties if breached. He had promised them to do all he could to ensure their safety and education.

But he hadn’t told them about Aegis and Thirteens. About the Silent War. About Martin or Samuel. Nor had he mentioned other deaths of Psions like his wife, Emily, or Blake Weymouth (one of the most valiant men Byron had ever met), or Takeo Soto, or James McEmery, or Liam Scoresby, or . . . The list went on and on. And it grew longer too often.

What if the next casualty is Hefani or Antonio?

The commander cleared his throat and began kept speaking about the history of the Psions. He knew the drill, but had a much harder time getting through what he wanted to say.

He thought of the words he’d said at Martin’s funeral in Australia and how inadequate they had felt. He remembered similar words at the memorial service held for him at headquarters. Tears falling from the eyes of so many Betas, but he had not let himself shed any. He wondered how long it would be before he shed more.

He promised the recruits he would do all he could to ensure their preparation and training. After administering the New World Government oath, he gave them the tour of headquarters then sent them all downstairs to unpack and settle in. Upstairs, in his office, he sat in his chair and turned on the screens displaying dorm hallways, the cafeteria, the rec room, and each room on the upper levels.

New roommate orders had been issued the day before, and several girls were still moving their belongings around the halls. Brillianté and Asaki were now sharing a dormitory, allowing Kawai and Natalia to room together as they’d requested. On his screen, he saw Strawberry entering her new dorm with Gefjon.

He stared blankly, lost in the circular mazes formed by his thoughts. Suddenly, a small blue box blinked at him on the wall. “Commander Wrobel,” Emily’s voice announced to him.

“Accept the call,” he stated while sitting up and composing himself.

“Did you get the kids tucked in, Walter?” Wrobel asked.

Victor Wrobel sat in the same office that had once been Byron’s long ago, but Wrobel had certainly personalized it over the years. Wrobel’s taste in furniture was fancier than Byron’s. Three tall bookcases stood side by side behind him. They held no books. Instead, the shelves were filled with trophies, plaques, honors, and so forth. In the very center, just above Wrobel’s head, sat a framed picture of the beautiful Claire Hardy. Near Byron, on the wall of all his Psions, hung a different picture of the same woman.

Commander Byron glanced one last time at the screen showing his pupils. “Snug as bugs. But I can tell you have something else on your mind.”

Wrobel chuckled. “You think you know me so well . . .”

Byron raised an eyebrow. “I did train you.”

“I didn’t get a chance to talk about plans for Al’s ceremony next week,” Wrobel continued as if he hadn’t heard Byron’s comment. “We need to go over some details.”

“Which ones?”

Commander Wrobel snatched a sheet of paper off his desk and squinted at it. He held it awkwardly at arm’s length from himself. The last time Byron had seen someone do that was when his father had needed glasses, but hadn’t been willing to admit it. “First of all, the parents of the graduate occupy a seat of honor at the ceremony. The only people who know you’re his dad are the rest of us in Command.”

“And Marie, his fiancée.”

“Right.”

“And Dr. Rosmir.”

“Fine—fine,” Wrobel said, looking almost annoyed with Byron’s correction. “My point is do you want everyone to know? This was considered classified information when he enrolled.”

 “It was classified because the general likes to classify things. I just wanted Albert to have a normal experience in Beta.”

“Still . . . you or the general has to declassify it.”

“Consider it done.”

“That’s fine by me.” Commander Wrobel went back to his list. Byron almost laughed at how much Wrobel had to squint. “Has Al agreed to speak at the ceremony? Does he understand that it’s the highlight of the ceremony for the graduate to give a speech?”

“Come on, Victor, how many ceremonies has he been to? He knows how they go. Put it in the program. Who is in charge of the highlight tape?”

“I don’t remember. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Wrobel put his paper down and looked into the camera. “How’s your kid holding up, Walter? He must be thrilled about going back to Rio.”

“I have not told him about it yet.”

Wrobel sat up in his chair. “Are you serious? You really should get on that. Unless, of course, you’re willing to listen to some sense and not go back. It’s too dangerous.”

“Sorry, my mind is made up. If there is even a slim chance we find his body—”

Commander Wrobel swore under his breath, shaking his head. “And make the kids go through all that trauma again?”

“I know your feelings on the matter. No need to rehash them.”

“We should have gone back sooner . . .” Wrobel lamented.

“You vetoed my motion then,” Byron reminded him.

Wrobel pointed a finger at Byron. “Don’t blame me. It’s all this . . . red tape. It’s General Wu dragging his feet. Special op units can’t do anything without approval. When is the team going in?”

“Not long after Albert’s graduation. Everything is almost arranged. He wants to be there in person.”

“For Pete’s sake, he ran that mission. He should be there! But let me ask you something, Walter, do you think that kid could be alive?”

“No. Albert needs some closure on this, though. Bringing Samuel back, even dead, will help.”

Commander Wrobel shook his head. “I don’t know. Those demons wouldn’t leave a body behind. Who knows what they’ve done?” His gaze was fixed on a spot near Byron’s Psion pictures, as though he was lost in thought. “You know that as well as I.” Wrobel’s sullen tone and distant expression put a damper on Byron’s spirits. The last few weeks had been hard on everyone. Wrobel, normally enthusiastic almost to a fault, rarely fell into moods like this. It made Byron wish he and Victor had stayed as close of friends as they’d once been, long ago.

“Anywhichway,” Wrobel said with a snap, “I’ll buzz you again to finalize the program. I have to go.”

Before Byron could even say goodbye, Victor was gone. From the rec room cameras, he saw Brickert going ballistic, hugging his sister in a death squeeze. Byron smiled. Protocol had prevented Brickert from knowing about his sister’s Anomaly Fourteen, and Strawberry had been too young to bring to headquarters with him a year ago. On the other side of the room, Antonio Otravelli went around the room introducing himself to all the girls. Hefani seemed comfortable hanging back and watching others.

Byron sighed and switched off the cameras. “And life goes on . . .”

All the Betas attended Al’s graduation along with a handful of the youngest Alphas at Albert’s invitation. His new squadron leader and every member of Command took prominent seats.

“Albert is more than just an outstanding young man. He’s more than a talented Psion,” Wrobel said in his opening address to the crowd of about sixty people. “He is a great follower, a loyal friend, and an excellent leader. Psion Command has no doubts he will have a significant impact on our efforts. But as I just said, Albert is more than what many of you may realize. He is the first second-generation Psion ever born. He is the son of Walter Byron and the late Emily Hayman.”

Byron heard a few gasps and mutters at Wrobel’s words. Natalia turned to Kawai and mouthed, “I told you so!”

“This was kept hidden only to allow him the privilege of being trained as your equal and to prevent any thoughts of unfair treatment. All of you know Al has proven himself to be a capable and worthy member of the Alpha ranks. And now it gives me great pleasure to allow him the time to address you.”

A standing ovation came from the audience. As Byron watched his boy stand and walk to the pulpit wearing an expression of anxiety and reluctance, a warm tightness filled his chest and he said a prayer of gratitude for such a wonderful son.

Albert cleared his throat and grinned nervously at Marie and Gregor. He had a note card tucked up his sleeve, and he inched it out just barely. “First of all, I have to thank three people in my life who have helped make me into what I am: my mother, my father, and my future wife, Marie. My mother gave her life in the war we are still fighting.”

An image of Emily, aged but beautiful, sitting in the chair next to Byron was suddenly very strong in the commander’s mind. In that instant, he missed her more than he’d done in years. Across the stage, Commander Wrobel’s head dropped and his eyes closed.

“Her example has taught me to give all my energy and heart in training and to carry on the fight she died for.” Byron had to close his eyes to continue listening to his son. “Marie and I met on her first day here. Despite her . . . reserved personality, I saw an inner strength that compelled me. I spent months trying to get her to open up to me, and I’ve found it was worth every second. She is a friend and support I will always treasure. I love you, Marie.”

The commander glanced into the audience and saw Marie’s eyes shimmering as she smiled back at Albert, her face as red as the stripes on her uniform. Her sister, Rosa, held her hand and smiled at her.