Psiedoni-jah raised his arms, flexed his fingers, and turned his hands over and over repeatedly. For some reason, he was captivated by the way his muscles and sinews tensed and rippled as he moved.
He’d never been vain. Nevertheless, as he stared into the full length mirror, he couldn’t help but admire the thickness of his biceps and thighs. The cut of his chest and stomach. And he especially liked the way his olive skin seemed to enhance the definition of his finely-toned, brand-new physique.
There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him, despite the fact he was only slightly younger than his previous host. Jose Antonio Calderon’s form is far the superior. The rigors of his early life and later activities amongst the Guardians have seen to that.
And, as if that wasn’t cause enough for celebration, there was a decidedly tasty layer of icing to this new cake: information!
After fleeing to a subsidiary bunker, Psiedoni-jah had taken the time to intimately familiarize himself with every aspect of his new host. His childhood and upbringing; the struggle to control emerging abilities that set him apart; his descent into crime; the unexpected reprieve by the Guardians after falling into the clutches of the CIA.
Yes, Psiedoni-jah had ensured to absorb every little facet and every little nuance he needed to become this man for the foreseeable future, as adopting his identity would entail immersing himself deeply within enemy territory.
Even so, a usually straightforward process had been far more difficult to implement than he’d anticipated!
Powerful by human standards, Jose Calderon had been blessed with Grand Masterly Class abilities. Though far weaker than the parasitic entity now inhabiting his form, it was Calderon’s self-healing faculty that had proved the most formidable barrier to overcome, as it kept acting as a metapsychic immunosuppressant, preventing Psiedoni-jah’s own psyche from gaining full anatomical and neural control.
Additionally, Calderon’s time under the tutelage of the Guardians had added additional defensive layers to his ego that had been as ingenious as they were problematic to conquer.
Thankfully, Psiedoni-jah had been able to use one of those embedded sequences—the MitaCom Program—to his own advantage.
Devised by his nemesis, Sachael-Za-Ad’hem, it accelerated both the learning and training curve of the recipient. It also allowed the psychoenergetic potential of each candidate to develop at a hyperbolic rate. And, by compartmentalizing each area of a student’s consciousness, it allowed the aspirant to utilize their mundane and psychosomatic complexi twenty-four hours a day.
Studying the archetype closely, Psiedoni-jah had been astonished to discover it also complimented mental synergy, even when the subject was sleeping. Seizing on that aspect, he had gradually stripped its layers from Calderon’s mentality and added the matrix to his own psi-well.
The results had been stunning!
Interaction between his host’s psietic and genetic heritage had been augmented, allowing Psiedoni-jah to graft his identity into the new complexus with remarkable alacrity. He could feel the bonding process even now—burrowing deeper, spreading wider—as the construct continued unfurling within him. An amazing experience!
No wonder Sachael-Za-Ad’hem has achieved so much in such a short space of time. He’s accelerated mankind’s psychomaturation thousands of years, and ruthlessly ensured they’ve remained on the straight and narrow too!
Psiedoni-jah was deeply impressed.
Impressed and annoyed. What would we have achieved by working together? Gods! We’d be so far. . .
He left the thought unfinished.
Once again I’ve vastly underestimated him. And his bloody far-flung designs. He’s a freaking genius to come up with this. No wonder he imagined such a thankless task would earn us all a reprieve.
Then Psiedoni-jah remembered the fresh information contained within Esther’s consciousness as she died right in front of him. And it’s beginning to work too!
He looked at himself in the mirror once more. How far I’ve fallen. I was once a leading light among the Host and a force to be reckoned with. Now I’m nothing but a shadow, reduced to hiding inside humans. And a Guardian at that.
Hatred burned afresh within his heart. I may have to start all over again with the scraps off the table, but at least I can make use of our new intelligence. This Compressor Program has applications a transcended being can employ in other ways. And I’ll make sure the data regarding their various procedures and protocols isn’t wasted either. If I have to live among them, at least I can use what I learn to keep us all one step ahead of their damned investigations!
Of course . . . there will have to be sacrifices. If I’m going to get promoted to a position I can exploit, I’ve got to be seen as someone who gets results . . . ?
Glancing to one side, Psiedoni-jah noticed Angelika Papadakos leaning against his bedroom door, making no attempt whatsoever to mask her presence. From what he could determine from the outer layers of her mind, she had been checking him out. Ah, she still has an attachment to this form. Even if she was using him to serve our purposes.
Psiedoni-jah had chosen to ignore such a basic avenue of release since his revival. Nonetheless, skimming Calderon’s memories regarding such encounters proved to be rather pleasurable. Quite a surprise to say the least, especially as one part of his anatomy began responding to those recollections visibly. A completely involuntary act, as outrageous as it was uncontrollable. Wha . . . what the hell?
Even worse, Angelika Papadakos must have noticed, for a predatory smile was creeping across her face at this very moment.
Peeking out into the hallway, she checked to ensure they were alone. Entering quickly, she then shut the door and locked it before making her way toward him, shedding her clothes with every nubile step.
His betraying body continued to react, subconsciously extending the most blatant of invitations.
To his horror, Psiedoni-jah also perceived his heart rate increasing, along with the urge to act on his desires. Oh no, just when I thought I couldn’t stoop any lower!
*
“So, as you can see, Sir, each of our three primary Specter sites is now fully manned and operational. I thought it best to prioritize. Of the nine subsidiaries, four are already online and the rest will be linked into the grid before the end of next week.”
Yeung glanced through the report’s findings once again.
His new chief of security, Nicholas Smith, was proving to be an extremely resourceful and reliable right-hand man. Yeung had delayed replacing Harry Bing after his untimely death. In no way was this an oversight or omission on Yeung’s part. It was just that he honestly felt the addition of his three exceptional colleagues only five years previously would remove the need for such a position.
How wrong I was! He snorted to himself. If only hindsight was a more . . . proactive member of the team, I could have avoided so much of the fuss we’re now facing.
“Sir?” Nicholas queried, obviously assuming Yeung was reacting to something within the document before him. “Is everything alright?”
“Oh! Sorry, Nicholas. I’m merely reflecting on our drastic change in fortunes. As you know, I pride myself on planning ahead for every eventuality. But I must confess. I didn’t see this coming. Not ever! I don’t like being goosed without being asked nicely first. If I’d made sure a dependable security chief was in place after Harry’s . . . departure, we might have avoided the need for all this clandestine nonsense.”
“Thank you, Sir. I pride myself on being thorough too. Hopefully you’ll see that reflected in some of my adjustments.”
“Adjustments?”
“Yes, Sir. I always feel you can never have enough protection. I know our bunkers are equipped with the latest generation comforts and gadgetry your corporation . . . er, former corporation could provide. Even so, I felt it prudent to beef things up a little.”
Yeung was growing rather fond his new chief. Placing the paperwork down, he directed that Nicholas should sit, and gave him his full attention. “Do explain.”
Taking a seat opposite, Nicholas paused to collect his thoughts. “I won’t bore you with every detail, Sir. The report will do that quite nicely. Nevertheless, there are certain factors both yourself and the Apostles will need to get up to speed with. For example; you’re aware that each of our subterranean strongholds is fully armored and bristling with the most sophisticated weaponry and technology on the planet, yes? In theory, it makes each site extremely difficult to detect, let alone assault or enter.
“However, in light of recent events where the Guardians were able to employ some form of temporal gateway to evacuate the citizens of Los Angeles, I’ve ensured to add spatial scramblers into the fabric of each structure.”
“Spatial scramblers!” Yeung spluttered, shocked, but delighted at the audacity of the maneuver. “What? As in the floors and walls?”
“Yes! I’m hoping to negate the effects of such a field if they were to ever try and infiltrate our complexes by similar means in the future. I have, of course, ensured to leave certain windows open within each center that will allow restricted movement about the faculty in question—including ingress and egress—by teleportation. Their exact positions differ from site to site and are, as a matter of necessity, a closely guarded secret privy only to those officers with the appropriate clearance.”
“And what happens to someone who tries to jump without the requisite information?”
“If they are naturally gifted, just a severe headache. They’ll be forced to adjust their hyperspatial exit at the last second, you see. Not very nice, by all accounts. Buuut, if they use mechanical enhancers of any kind. . .”
“Like the Guardian T-rings or our bands?”
“. . .Precisely,” Nicholas replied. “In that case, the fail-safes will scramble their molecular patterns and they’ll materialize within the surrounding superstructure.”
“Ouch!” Yeung chuckled, smiling at the image in his mind. “How embarrassing!”
“Ah, but that’s not all there is to it, Sir! I also took the liberty of commandeering twelve of our latest generation Wave Readers. Esther’s tinkering ensured the newer models contained the modifications for cognitive interrogation and thought control. While we were intending to rely on them as a means for gaining intelligence, I thought we might put them to better use, screening new or unexpected arrivals.”
“In what way?” Yeung asked, intrigued by the proposal.
“From today, the only way in or out of each bunker is via a designated reception point.” Indicating the report, Nicholas lowered his voice. “While the précis you have in your possession highlights where each one is, no one else besides Sim . . . er, Guardian Calderon, Angelika, or you or I, is privy to that knowledge. Base captains only have access to those coordinates within their own command. As you can appreciate, this will enhance security in two ways:
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Firstly, anyone seeking entrance will have to request permission. This gives on duty staff a heads-up, allowing them time to ring the area with all sorts of defensive and aggressive countermeasures. Secondly, when the inbound traveler does arrive, they will be subjected to the coercive matrix of the Wave Reader. Basically, we can ensure everyone is who they say they are, before we release them to walk about freely.”
“And what about me?” Yeung asked, his face suddenly turning to stone. “I won’t allow anyone access to my mind without permission.”
“That’s already taken care of.” Nicholas replied. Leaning forward, he handed Yeung a heavily encrypted info-crystal. “This contains the security frequencies by which each Reader operates. You—and anyone else you care to share these details with—will be able to move about unhindered and completely free from compulsion.
“Though . . . if you don’t mind my suggesting, Sir, I’d keep the list of privileged elites as low as possible.”
“This is a most welcome surprise, Nicholas. Here I was, thinking it would be all doom and gloom, and you’ve managed to cheer an old man up in only seven days!”
“Not so old from where I’m sitting . . . if you don’t mind my saying so, Sir.”
Yeung glanced to one side and caught his reflection in a nearby mirror. The effects of his implant were remarkable, even though he hadn’t bothered going to extremes as some of his associates had done. Instead, Yeung had subsumed the essence of several unwilling and burdensome weak links to return his appearance to what he possessed when only fifty years old. Increasing musculature and height and darkening his hair had helped the transformation. Now, he looked more like a city businessman than the elderly leader of the global crime syndicate everyone loved to hate. One that had—as far as the public were aware—been busted wide open with all known assets frozen.
If only they knew. He thought.
Then he had an idea.
“Nicholas. You said the Specter protocols would be fully online by the end of the week, yes?”
“That’s right Sir, the end of the week at the latest. Why?”
“Can you retarget more of our satellites to compliment these new measures? Say, an extra one on each of the bunkers?”
Nicholas smiled. “I’ve already taken the liberty, Sir. That was the final point I was going to raise with you. Again, recent events have made me think more and more about the unexpected. Most of our personnel are nano-chipped anyway. If you don’t mind getting everybody to update their chips, it will facilitate the inception of those upgrades.”
“Will it?” Yeung replied, delighted by the way his new chief was able to anticipate his requirements. “In what way?”
“Well, I was thinking . . . The Guardians appear to be annoyingly adept at springing surprises. I thought we’d return the compliment. With your permission, I’d like to reposition at least eighty percent of our satellites in higher, variable orbits. That will be essential to lessen the risk of detection. The others can stay in situ and be targeted upon each of the Specter facilities; half a dozen capital cities of your choice; and a number of other public syndicates who might try to fill the holes the departure of Yeung Technologies has left.
“By tagging our people, the platforms will instantly be able to recognize friend from foe. So, if one or more of our complexes are compromised, we have the luxury of being able to choose how aggressively to react. Now—bearing in mind the Guardian response will undoubtedly be swift and decisive—I would strongly recommend we take a more hard line posture.”
“Define hard line,” Yeung countered, captivated by such radical thinking.
“Sir, if we are ever breached, it means anyone and everyone caught inside will be a liability. We can prevent that. If we install the proper programs from the word go, we can encode the nano-technology to initiate the emergency transport of appropriate key personnel, while ordering the nearest satellite to fire. Think about it. The site would be obliterated from orbit, preventing the Guardians from gaining vital intelligence. And we’d get to take out an Inquisitor team.”
Yeung couldn’t hide his delight. “Nicholas. I do like your thinking!
“Thank you, Sir. I know such a belligerent stance would prove costly initially, but it would make the Guardians think twice before rushing in again. The evident downside to such a strategy is that they would be all over the orbiting defense system like nappy rash on a baby’s backside. That’s why I recommend we move so many platforms in the first place. Do you see? They’ll remain—for all intent and purpose—nonexistent, while those in the spotlight and subject to seizure can target their payloads on whatever objectives we’ve chosen, before we trigger the self-destruct protocols.
“Now, if we ensure to update those objectives on a weekly basis, it will allow us to maintain a close eye on anyone who might become a commercial thorn in the flesh, and provide a golden opportunity to liquidate them before the Guardians do any real damage. One way or another, we’ll maintain a considerable influence on world markets.”
Meeting his security manager’s gaze directly, Yeung declared, “Nicholas, I am very keen to adopt your suggestions. You don’t have to keep calling me Sir anymore. You may address me as Lei. Though I prefer Yeung.
“I’d like you to implement your suggestions immediately. Before the day is out, in fact.”
“Thank you, Si . . . Mister Yeung,” Nicholas replied, standing up from his chair. “I’ll get right on it.”
As his security chief left, Yeung had to admit. He was feeling rather smug. Despite our fall from grace, we have the ability to exert power in ways they never dreamed of. And better still, we can hit them back.
His musings were interrupted by a newsflash abruptly displayed on several of the TV monitors adorning one of the walls. Each highlighted the various updates coming in from around the world regarding the terrorist attacks in the Gulf of Aden and Los Angeles.
These latest reports were emphasizing how far investigators had got in discovering the identities of those responsible for the atrocities. Oh my! This doesn’t look good!
Snatching up a remote control, Yeung adjusted the sound on the largest screen and listened in. What he heard soured his mood immediately.
Stunned, he then watched incredulously as the face of each and every single one of his Apostles appeared in turn, closely followed by an inordinate number of his top executives. In particular, those holding CEO rank. Damned! How the hell . . . ?
Thankfully, the majority were represented by images showing their original profiles. But sadly, far too many contained a recent picture of his team following enhancement. Now this could pose a problem!
The bulletin went into great detail about each of the people involved who were evidently, now top of Interpol’s “Most Wanted” list for a whole catalog of misdeeds. That list was stunning, ranging from transgressions against humanity and the environment; terrorism and organized crime; numerous breaches against white collar legislation; and straightforward intellectual property violations, corruption and embezzlement.
Yeung was bemused to note his own identity remained conspicuously absent.
He needn’t have worried. They’d saved him for last, and were offering him up for crucifixion as Public Enemy Number One.
The devastating mind-ream performed on Esther prior to her death had obviously opened her up more extensively than they’d realized. The release was now highlighting the fact that a combined Global Marshals Bureau-Inquisitor task force had been established with the sole purpose of hunting him down. If that wasn’t bad enough, certain information had also come to light connecting him to Lord Marshal Foster’s death, and a whole host of other assassinations—both before that incident and since. Once hailed as the world’s leading light in progressive change, Yeung was now a marked man with a considerable price on his head.
Too considerable for his liking. Especially as the reward appeared to be irrespective as to whether he was alive or not.
Pìhuà! He cursed silently in his native dialect. Thank goodness Sim . . . Jose will be able to help us stay one step ahead of justice. If we can just keep them focused on the bait we’ve arranged, it’ll keep the direct heat off us and ensure we can make the best of this mess.
*
A solitary figure sat quietly within the observation deck of the Guardian Command Carrier Odyssey. Silhouetted against the main viewport, it was clear this was a man with a great deal on his mind.
Before him, a sheaf of documents and scattering of report crystals littered the desk. Slouched as he was in his chair, his fingers drummed against the armrest with a cadence that only seemed to exacerbate the fact he was carrying the weight of an entire world on his shoulders.
A deep sigh escaped his lips.
Adjusting his position, Andrew turned to gaze for a moment out of the window. He breathed again, marveling over the way the setting sun accentuated the golden and snow-white backdrop of the San Gabriel Mountains against the Los Angeles skyline—still remarkably intact despite recent events. Reveling in the peace such a vista gave him; he allowed his eyes to lose focus and instead resorted to his stupendous farsight
His astral vision roamed back and forth across the vast tract of land below him, forcing him to admit. We’ve been lucky. . .
. . .Very lucky!
Naomi’s reactions prevented a monumental loss of life and a colossal amount of damage. Her opening gambit was as appalling as it was daring. By employing the psitronic crystal’s essence to simply leech away the titanic energies unleashed during the explosions, she reduced subsequent seismicity to manageable and survivable levels.
Victoria had replayed that moment for Andrew, allowing him to savor the full nuance of the whole incident. His spine tingled with dread every time he considered it. Bold, ingenious . . . but oh so very dangerous! And her follow-up strategy—to use the old crystal flecks to dam up the voids created below the earth’s crust—was also inspired. That maneuver allowed us to evacuate over twenty-three million people with very few fatalities.
He snorted. If you can call twenty-seven thousand deaths ‘very few’!
Andrew’s fists tightened in frustration at the thought of all those lost souls. Such a tragedy . . . but miniscule against what it could have been. Most of the casualties had been too close to the detonations for us to be able to save them or too close to the coastline when it dropped. I can hear their minds screaming out as they died, even now!
Of course, he hadn’t been able to leave things like that.
Taking the lead, Andrew initiated the modification of the lithosphere, using the enhanced, self-replicating, tectonic placebo provided by Naomi.
The woman of the hour was out of it by then, undergoing the unfathomable vicissitudes of her immersion into the psitronic lattices. Nevertheless, it had been a mighty work, reminiscent of the challenges he’d undertaken so long ago. Only this time, his father hadn’t been there to help. Andrew had undertaken the executive position himself, with Victoria providing prime focus.
It had been a humbling experience to witness firsthand the degree of finesse required to inaugurate such an endeavor. But it was something he would have to get used to.
Although they had only concentrated on the primary sites of the detonations, it still meant they’d had to refashion over one hundred and fifty square miles of land. Billions of tons of sediment and rock, through several layers of the upper mantle had been expunged in the opening holocaust. Replacing it hadn’t been easy, and it had taken nearly four hours of exhaustive, directed attention and application to regenerate a suitable matrix from which later, more permanent modifications could be undertaken.
Even so, the zone had continued to flex alarmingly as it solidified and then settled into its new configuration, triggering the only earthquake to actually strike the region. Measuring nine-point-eight on the Richter scale, it had been allowed to propagate fully to test the integrity of the embryonic substrata.
Andrew wasn’t ashamed to admit he’d held his breath for all of the two minutes it had taken for the tremors to subside. But he needn’t have been so worried. Their psi-engineered terraforming template worked like a charm.
Yes, most high-rise freeway networks lay in ruins. But already, extensive repairs were being undertaken to open the main arterial roads between Santa Ana and Santa Monica. Priority had also been vouchsafed to those access routes leading to and from the principal hospitals and welfare centers.
Inevitably, there had also been major disruptions to the electricity, gas, and water supplies. Downed cables and burst pipelines had caused sporadic fires and flooding, especially in the industrialized centers. But it had been remarkably contained. Rolling power cuts had been instigated to help facilitate a gradual and structured return to normalcy, particularly in the commercial districts further inland that had survived with their basic infrastructures intact.
Because of this, food and water shortages for those residents in outlying areas who had already been allowed to return home were being kept to a minimum. Current estimates indicated they would shortly be joined by over seventy percent of the rest of the population within the next ten to twenty days. The stragglers would remain—housed at the special reception centers that had been hastily constructed around the locales of Hamilton, Osceola, and Cherry Creek—within the Great Basin National Park. Shrewdly pressed into service, those ghost towns afforded an already existing logistical foundation, which had helped aid work tremendously.
Andrew was very grateful that the Lord Conciliator’s department was already deep in discussion with the appropriate local government agencies, selecting the best—and safest—locations for urban regeneration to be undertaken. At least it’s another step in the right direction out of the shit-pit. Thank god we’ve managed to turn the fan off!
Sighing yet again over the magnitude of organizational juggling that would be required to revitalize this, the second largest urban agglomeration in the United States, Andrew decided it would be more productive to turn his attention to those concerns that needed immediate attention. The sooner I liaise with Anil regarding the reopening of Los Angeles International Airport, the sooner we can bring in the civilian and National Guard disaster relief teams. It should be safe for them to shadow our specialized units into the stricken area by now. Mind you, San Pedro Bay will still have to wait. It’s under six feet of water anyway, so a week or so isn’t going to make much difference. That will free us up for more . . . pressing matters.
His mood darkened considerably and he found himself having to fight the urge to incinerate something. I think I’ll get Victoria to refine her search for those fuck-wit cowards! Just like them to go crawling into their holes again. If I have my way, they won’t live long enough to waste any court’s time, let alone a specially convened Psi-Hearing! Perhaps I’ll use the Procurator Wing to . . . No!
Abruptly, he felt ashamed.
Get a grip, dickhead! Naomi didn’t make such a huge sacrifice so I could screw things up with a dose of caveman’s mentality. What a great example to set, eh? Overlord Designate and I’m only too ready to wipe them out without the fiasco of a trial. Hell, how did father manage to control himself all these years?
He started!
Father! Damned, I’ve got so much on my plate it slipped my mind!
Referring to his internal chronometer, Andrew realized he only had a few hours left before the big event.
Feeling suddenly isolated, he muttered, “I’d better get a move on!”