30

REINTEGRATION

I STOOD IN the trees, outside the long corridor on the south side of the East Wing of the White House. I didn’t let myself think too clearly about where I was, or the surreal quality of seeing it empty of people, but for the occasional uniformed figure I glimpsed darting from one lit segment to another. I saw another man’s lips moving as he communicated through a headset, then he was gone, too.

He’d been clutching some kind of automatic weapon.

I tried not to think about that, either.

We hadn’t been able to find him. The others wanted to leave, and I could hardly blame them. The East Wing was ablaze in lights. I’d heard the sporadic sound of automatic gunfire in several parts of the lawn-covered grounds to the south. People moved in erratic formations across the grass, some running in SWAT-like military uniforms, probably everything from SCARB to the FBI and Secret Service.

Most of them had been human so far, so easy to side-step.

Even so, I was growing increasingly nervous at what I could hear on the streets outside the White House gates.

If it wasn’t a shooting war yet, it would be soon.

Even as I thought it, Tobias handed me his headset, signaling for me to listen. Once I had it situated around my ear, sound seemed to explode into my mind, difficult to think past well enough to even make out the words at first.

“…and it is now confirmed, a terrorist attack is taking place on the White House, as we speak…”

Visuals eclipsed my view of the darkened grounds, forcing me into the sharply lit newsroom of the feed broadcasters. I glimpsed the gold hair of the newscaster, Donna, who I’d met in the Oval Office. Next to her sat an African-American man wearing a grim expression under furrowed brows. I only got the faintest glimpse of their faces before the sound of firing rose in the headset.

In the foreground, an image rose of military personnel covering the mall area of the city. A shootout was taking place between dark-clad figures and what looked like police in another corner of the same screen. A third image showed at least thirty more soldiers wearing the black Sweeps uniform of the military branch of Seer Containment or SCARB, running alongside an equal number of marines as they breached the White House grounds.

They wore so many weapons and organic arms that I couldn’t quite see them as real.

The male newscaster’s voice shocked my ears once again.

“…They haven’t yet pinpointed the exact source of the attacks, but there is no doubt that renegade seers are involved, as at least four have been caught in the course of the initial fighting. Several more were seen shooting out of the first floor of the White House itself, and now are rumored to have the Vice President hostage upstairs…”

The man’s brown eyes seemed to meet mine through the VR space. I couldn’t help but wonder what he looked like in real life.

“…The President, however, was removed from his residence by Secret Service, and brought to a safe location along with most of his cabinet and a number of his staff and advisors. He will be making a statement to the media once the situation at the White House is secure, but at this time had only one message to us, and that was one of resolve. He said, and I quote, ‘tell them, we will do whatever is necessary to ensure that the culprits do not succeed in their aims to destabilize our great nation...’”

A dramatic pause.

“…Donna? You have an update?”

The blond reporter smiled, her voice holding a false outrage that barely concealed the thread of excitement underneath.

“We just now have the news that the terrorist, Alyson May Taylor, appears to have escaped custody as a part of this attack by the seers. Using their powers to mind-control the human secret service, as well as the Pentagon security team assigned to watch over her while she was being debriefed, a terrorist cell of seers appears to have broken into the underground bunker where she was being kept, underneath the White House itself. It now appears that her release may have been the purpose of this attack…”

I focused on an image of my face, which reared up in VR.

“…Called only ‘the Bridge’ by seer religious fanatics, Taylor has been known to incite violence and other forms of fanaticism in the seer religious community since her true race was discovered last year. Masquerading as a human prior to her discovery, Alyson acted as a sleeper agent in San Francisco, where her identity is now believed to have been protected for over twenty-five years by her adoptive human parents and brother, as well as a number of her friends, now believed to be sympathizers to the seer cause...”

Donna put on her serious face as the cameras zoomed in on her enhanced avatar. I noticed it shaved a good ten years off her real age, as well as giving her a nose job and fuller lips than the woman I’d met in person.

“…The question everyone is asking is, is Alyson truly telekinetic? Is the real reason the seers are protecting her so that they can use her as a weapon against the entire human race? It is a question that might force some tough decisions in the military leaders tonight, especially given the history of the last known telekinetic seer…”

Hearing the blades of helicopters, I looked up once I realized the sound wasn’t coming from the broadcast. Tearing the headset off my ears, I watched a small formation of military helicopters skim the grounds, passing from the north to the south side of the main building in a diagonal line.

Ducking out of sight in the shadows, I turned to Ullysa, hesitating before looking back at the White House itself.

I thought about the feeds, the number of marines and Sweeps headed our way. They might have visually enhanced the number to put on a good show, but somehow, I doubted that the reality would be far behind.

I handed the headset back to Tobias. It wouldn’t help me, not anymore.

“You three go ahead,” I said. I kept my voice low, looking between Ullysa and Tobias. “I’ll find him. I know the layout. It’ll be faster if I go alone.”

“Allie, no!” Ullysa said. “That is crazy!”

“I can’t leave him here!” I said in a loud whisper. “Do you understand? I can’t do it! So either shut up, or help me, goddamn it...”

The three of them just looked at me.

Then Tobias gestured in affirmative, glancing at the other two.

“All right,” he said. “We’ll come.”

I looked at Kat. Briefly, I thought about protesting her inclusion. She jutted her chin, and I could see on her face that she fully expected me to leave her behind.

But fuck it. Maybe she’d go down in the firefight.

She surprised me, grinning. “That’s the spirit, Bridge.”

“You’d better stay out of my line of sight,” I warned.

I expected this to piss her off, but instead she surprised me again, grinning wider.

She said, “You sound just like him, you know that?”

I pretended to ignore that, too, but it made my heart hurt anyway.

We made our way through the garden, heading for the rounded portico of the South entrance. We crouched in the shadow of trees, outside the ring of illumination created by the lights ablaze on the lower floors. We hadn’t yet gotten up to make our way back to the East Entrance when the planes came roaring back. Before I could let out a sound, Tobias grabbed me around the middle, pulling me back, deeper into the grounds, sheltering me with his body.

I struggled, fighting his hold. Fear slid to the forward part of my light; I knew what was coming, I could feel it.

“They’re going to bomb it!” he said in my ear.

The scream of the falling bombs slowly built in sound until I couldn’t hear anything else, not even my own anguished yell. Tobias was right; they weren’t just going to hit the grounds, or even the surrounding areas.

It wasn’t the four of us I was yelling for, though.

The unreality of what was happening got overshadowed by my terror about what it meant for me.

They were bombing the White House. And he was inside.

TERIAN FELT IT again.

Something in his light seemed to phase out.

Then it came back, as if on its own. He found himself staring up at the ceiling, as if he might see the construct through the very walls.

Even as he thought it, the sound came again.

Impact concussion...some kind of explosion, and it sounded like it came from directly overhead. The lights flickered again, going from the orange of the emergency lights back to the white lights of the corridor...then back again.

It mirrored the strange phasing occurring in his aleimi.

The white lights rose slowly, until the room appeared ordinary once more.

Terian blinked, adjusting his eyes to the sudden brightness. He wasn’t really worried about the walls caving in, not down here.

It had been the easiest thing in the world to turn the power off downstairs, then to convince the humans they were under attack, that they needed to evacuate the capital buildings at once due to the threat of terrorist seers.

Who knew he’d actually be right, and in so short a time.

Revi’ really hadn’t been screwing around, in his attempt to get Alyson back. Blinded by emotion or not, he’d coordinated this operation more like a military maneuver than his usual one-man frontal.

Terian could only suppose he’d had help, and help on a seemingly significant scale. He should have remembered his old partner wouldn’t be the only seer deeply motivated to liberate their precious Bridge.

Even so, from all appearances, Revi’ appeared to be holding more of a grudge than usual.

The entire cabinet, along with Wellington himself and Xarethe, had been disappeared almost two hours ago, along with a handful of aides. Everyone else had been sent home, some with police escorts or even Sweeps. Once the perimeter breach had been confirmed, the entire grounds were evacuated of staff.

Thanks to Terian also, Travers and his little entourage hadn’t been able to be found, of course, and their vehicles were moved to avoid suspicion. Now they were listed officially as “hostages” of the seer terrorist army.

Terian had been looking to replace Travers almost from the moment he’d taken the official oath. He’d let that little charade of his go on for months, knowing it might come in handy one of these days, to get the little toad to resign, if nothing else. It certainly had proven useful in the end, however.

Wellington’s team went out through the upper basement, taking a set of bulletproof SUV limousines to a safe location on the other side of town. The bunker-like facility, housed under another fifteen feet of solid concrete, reinforced steel, the gaze of a few dozen of their best seers...and, of course, a small nuclear arsenal at their immediate disposal...remained virtually impregnable.

He didn’t have long to wait now. He could feel it.

Whatever else, he knew a few bombs wouldn’t discourage his old friend, not if he were feeling motivated...which Terian had no doubt he was by now.

He heard the beep through his implants when the elevator hit the bottom floor, smiled when he saw the stats of the car’s occupant. Lighting a hiri, he leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on the old-growth redwood table and crossing his ankles.

Ashing on the White House floor, even in the technically nonexistent underground compartments, gave him a perverse sort of thrill, even now.

He waited until he felt him heading in his direction. Then he sent out a ping with his light, letting him know exactly where he was.

He was still leaning back in his chair, a drink in hand, when Dehgoies walked into the room, gun held out in front of him. He entered slowly, checking the corners, moving from a combat crouch. He still limped, of course, his leg not fully healed from the gunshot wound a few weeks back, but his essential grace remained intact. His face appeared focused, emotionless, but Terian found himself smiling anyway. He held out his arms half in surrender, half in affection.

He knew the look in those eyes again.

For the first time in over fifty years, he could see his friend.

“You killed the boy?” he said.

He heard the triumph in his own voice.

Dehgoies didn’t answer, but Terian grinned anyway, holding his arms wider.

“Don’t shoot, pardner,” he said. “I surrender.”

Revik shifted the aim of the gun.

He fired before Terian could blink.

The force of the shot caught Terian off-guard, particularly from such a small gun. It knocked his leg off the table, making him question the wisdom of propping his legs in the first place. It nearly threw him out of the chair.

He gasped, gripping his thigh, staring at the blood squeezing between his fingers. The Elaerian had hit him in the leg...the same leg and the same place Terian had ordered his men to shoot him a few weeks back.

Despite the force of the shot, the bullet remained in his flesh.

“You want to fuck with me right now?” Revik said. “Really? That seems like a good idea to you?”

 “Wait!” Terian held up his other hand. “Dehgoies...my friend. Calm yourself, please. I can explain...”

“You can explain.” The light eyes turned predatory, threaded with a violence that stood on the surface. “You can explain stealing my wife. Beating her…raping her. Explain that to me, Terry...I dare you...”

“I knew who you were,” the Scandinavian said. He spoke quickly, before the Elaerian could shoot again. “Don’t you see? I knew. I was trying to help you, Dehgoies. I knew you wouldn’t get there on your own...”

Revik pointed the gun at his face.

“Gee,” he said. “Thanks, Terry.”

“I suspected the truth...not long after I found the boy.” Terian held his hand higher, a plea for peace. “It was subtle at first...but there was just too much of you in him...too many freakish, Dehgoies-like similarities to count. I found some of the blood of the original Syrimne, which helped...”

Seeing that the other seer was listening to him at least, he lowered his hand, long enough to take another fast drink of scotch.

“...Then I realized why I knew him so well...what had happened to the Revi’ I once knew.” He pursed his lips. “You know...my best friend? The one those fucking Seven assholes murdered to ‘save his soul?’ When Galaith and Vash made their little pact...hell, they already had the boy. They’d created him and locked him in that mountain. They’d buried fucking Syrimne in that dungeon, a being who did nothing but fight for our people. What kind of gratitude is that?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Revik said.

But Terian saw it in his face.

He was listening. At least some of this was sinking in.

He shrugged with his free hand, his eyes flat.

“So they had the boy already,” he repeated. “I guess they figured, why not use him to bury my friend, Revi’ the Rook, as well? So they put you there, too. They left you there, in that little rat-boy body...to rot, I guess.”

Revik rearranged his hand on the gun. “A little far-fetched, Terry.”

“Is it? Do you know it’s impossible to truly destroy a memory, Revi’? That there is no way to wipe a mind of its past? Oh, you can do it temporarily of course…through trauma, drugs, even suggestion. But you can’t really get rid of it.” He took another drink of alcohol. “…The only way to be sure, Revi’…the only way to be really really sure, is to cut the offending part of the aleimi out. To put it somewhere else.” He paused.

“…Do you really think Galaith would have let you go, if there was any chance you could retrieve the memories he and the Seven stole from you?”

Revik’s jaw hardened, but Terian saw him thinking still.

“You remember now, don’t you, Revi’?”

The other seer’s eyes grew opaque, but Terian saw enough there to know he’d been right.

His smile widened.

“You do. I can see that you do. That is good, Revi’. That is most excellent…”

“You’re full of shit, Terry,” Revik said. “You always were. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but—“

“Game? This is no game, I assure you! I am deadly serious, my friend! Are you not listening to me? You are whole once more!”

Revik stared at him, his pale eyes lamp-like.

“You still don’t believe me?” Terian said. “Then why don’t you explain to me how that little shit knew so much about your wife, Revi’...given that he’d been buried underground since before she was born? Explain how she was able to do telekinesis with no training, simply from being your mate. Do you know the first time she displayed this ‘random’ talent of hers, Revi’? Well…do you?”

“Yes,” Revik said.

“And nothing about the timing of that struck you as interesting, Revi’?” He paused, watching the other seer’s face. “Well, here’s a hint. She was seven years old. What else happened when she turned seven, Revi’?”

Revik’s jaw hardened. “I was assigned to her.”

“Yes...you were. And now explain to me how the boy was able to find you, no matter where you were, no matter how tightly shielded you were by the Adhipan or whoever else? I was thrilled when he seemed to be able to pick you out so easily, but after awhile I started to wonder...”

Revik glanced behind him, still holding the gun on Terian. His colorless eyes looked harder though. Looking at him, Terian could see it. There was understanding there, anger, recognition, but also a refusal to believe. He was struggling with the integration, having trouble keeping his thoughts linear.

He likely also couldn’t fully see the newer elements as his own, not yet. Such a thing would take time, and a fair bit of power struggling between the various elements.

It was a process with which Terian had some measure of familiarity.

Revik motioned at Terian with the gun.

“Keep talking.”

“Surely you must have guessed by now!” Terian said. He gripped his leg to slow the flow of blood, even as he continued to study Dehgoies’ light.

“Guessed what?”

“You are Syrimne, my friend!”

There was a pause. Then Revik let out a harsh laugh.

“Jesus. This is pathetic even for you, Terry. You planted that crap! You want me to believe it.” His jaw hardened, even as grief plumed off his light. “...You want Allie to believe it.”

Terian smiled though, seeing something else in the other’s light.

“Ah, you do know. That is reassuring. I had worried with the number of times they’ve ripped out parts of your mind and filled the holes with talks of virtue and singing birdies that there’d be nothing of your mind left...”

“Fuck you.” He gripped the gun tighter. “I should kill you right now...”

“I don’t blame you for the latter sentiment. And,” he smiled. “I’d be willing to entertain the former, certainly...from what I saw, you put on quite a show up there. Are you sure you’re up for it, though, after all that?” He smiled wanly.

“...Are you sure she is? It was pretty touch and go there for a minute, wasn’t it? Very exciting. I almost thought she would kill you...”

Seeing the doubt cross Revik’s face, mixed with a tighter expression, Terian chuckled.

“Put the gun down, Dehgoies. You know I am telling the truth. You are Syrimne. You always were...and I have far too much to tell you about yourself for you to want to kill me now.”

Revik hesitated. Anger remained prominent in his eyes. Anger and that thread of disbelief mixed with something that edged closer to understanding, even a whisper of relief...and Terian found himself smiling at that, too.

“It’s comforting, knowing who we really are,” Terian said, his voice soft. “Isn’t it, my friend? It explains so much.”

Revik stared at him. For a moment, he seemed like he wanted to answer, then didn’t. Lowering the gun to his side, he didn’t put it down.

“Are you working with Salinse?” he said.

“Salinse? That kook in the mountains? Heavens no.”

“He told me to kill the boy,” Revik said. “He was pretty clear about it. Made it the price of getting access to his people.”

“Ahh.” Terian smiled. “Yes, that makes sense. I imagine you will have your pick of offers now, Revi’. Permit me to caution you to choose wisely, my friend...”

Terian poured himself another glass of scotch, hoping it would dull the pain in his leg, at least. Pouring a second glass for Dehgoies, he slid it expertly across the table. The glass stopped within a few feet of where Revik’s hand hung by his side. The Elaerian only stared at it, then back at Terian, his gaze flat, despite the whispers of conflict Terian could still see on his face.

Then he let out a short laugh.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You think I’m going to drink with you? You really are monumentally crazy, Terry. You stole my wife...then you nearly killed her. What part of that isn’t quite getting through to you?”

“I think you’ll want to hear what I have to say.”

“You’re thinking wrong.” Revik raised the gun, pointing it at Terian’s head. “Anything you think you can tell me, I’m sure Salinse knows more...and he didn’t rape my wife...or chain her to a fucking floor so some messed up kid could feel her up every night.” Swallowing, he cocked the gun. “Salinse even held up his end of the bargain...strictly speaking.”

Terian raised up his hand.

“Don’t assume he’s got your best interests at heart, Revi’! Don’t assume that for a second! Who the hell do you think bombed Seertown?” He waited for that much to sink in, for the Elaerian to be listening to him once more. “He has his own agenda...and I can pretty much guarantee it’s a more radical one than mine...”

“I don’t care,” Revik said, still holding up the gun.

“Yes, you do,” Terian said. “We could work together, Revi’...”

“Little late for that.”

“Come on, Revi’! Think about it! You don’t remember it all yet, but you will. That bastard Menlim treated you like shit. Whatever else may have happened, you and I...we were friends once. I would never have done that to a friend! Not unless I was trying to help him! And I did help you, Revi’! The boy would have killed you for sure, if I hadn’t intervened!”

Revik shot him in the other leg.

Terian gasped, sliding deeper in his chair. Blood turned his other pant leg swiftly dark.

That couldn’t be good, how fast that happened.

The patch began to spread. He stared at the widening stain, then up at the other seer.

Revik shrugged. “You shouldn’t have fucked my wife.”

“You know full well why I did it!”

Revik shot him in the arm, just above the elbow. The force of that blast ripped the muscles apart, shattering bone. Terian slumped in the chair. He looked for the scotch, but his glass was now on the floor. Scotch and water soaked into the carpet. Terian watched, strangely disappointed.

“I don’t much care why, Terry,” Revik said.

“Revi’! Wait! Don’t kill me yet, I—”

But before Revik could shoot him again, or Terian could tell him what he wanted him to wait for...everything went dark.

There was no warning.

He didn’t even get a last breath.

All he did was exhale the one before it, his eyes locked open as he stared at the ceiling. His aleimi vacated the corpse of the Scandinavian seer he’d purchased for almost a million Euros from that sucker slave trader in Estonia, raping him shortly after and killing him dead for the use of his corpse.

As he left, Terian found himself observing the room from the Barrier.

Dehgoies lowered the gun, a puzzled expression on his face as he stared at the blond corpse. He walked forward, prodding the inanimate vessel with one hand, checking the pulse with his fingers.

Terian saw him look up.

Shortly after, he found he could hear a shrill sound.

The noise wound higher in even circles, like an air raid siren.

Then Terian realized that was exactly what it was...an air raid siren.

But it didn’t matter to him anymore.

He was gone...back to the mainframe for downloading in another body, in another part of the world, or perhaps in the bunker where Xarethe and Wellington crouched right now, playing backgammon as they watched the news reports about seers attacking the White House and the military being mobilized.

Or so he thought.

Turns out, he was wrong about that.