Parasite
Author: K.T. Hanna
Date: 2016-02-22 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Science Fiction; Young Adult; Fantasy
Description: With the Damascus closing in on the Exiled, Sai and Dom must put their grief and inner demons aside as they rush to free the people of the Protected Conglomerate from the influence of the psionic grid. Chipped and placed under house arrest with a guard, Bastian's only hope lies in reaching his core to disrupt Deign's ruthless plan. Intent on putting a stop to the Damascus and the GNW's reign, Dom discovers the true extent of the parasite within. Just when Sai thinks the Exiled have a chance, their greatest weapon turns on them.
Publisher: Amaranthine Press

“Debut author Hanna takes familiar sci-fi genre elements...and spins dystopian gold.”

Kirkus Reviews

“Wow! A fast-paced, science fiction delight with fabulous action, a seamless world, and the most unique characters I’ve read in a long time.”

Elana Johnson, Author of the Possession Series

“Nikita-like post-apocalyptic novel with a heroine that would give Katniss a run for her money.”

Alina @ Unfazeable.com

“Psionics is wicked cool and I wish a meteor would give me some super-secret powers. The logistics of the abilities are many, and normally would have been a nightmare to follow. Hanna handles it with enough subtle description laced through the opening chapters that you’re able to grasp their powers naturally.”

Heather @ Aussie Owned and Read

“A seriously great sci-fi. Dark, edgy and complex. I thoroughly enjoyed this book. It’s a gripping read because of the author’s tense voice; the characters are well defined, believable and likeable, despite all of their flaws; the story flows well; and the ending leaves you on edge to read more. If you like sci-fi, you will love this book.”

Kate Foster – Author of Winell Road

“So much at stake. Saving the humanity … Salvaging Sai and Dom’s relationship … The clock is ticking and the circle is closing in.”

Alina @ Unfazeable.com

“Very strong second book in a series, with it’s own complete arc. KT Hanna has done an excellent job with worldbuilding, and with characters. Fast-moving and thought provoking.”

Anne Carpenter – Amazon Review

Author: K.T. Hanna

Content Edits: Jami Nord

Copy Editor: Rebecca Weston

Cover Artist: S.P. McConnell

Layout & Formatting: Caitlin Greer

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.

Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2016 Katie Hanna

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 1522952977

ISBN-13: 978-1522952978

Books by KT Hanna:

Chameleon (The Domino Project #1)

Hybrid (The Domino Project #2)

Parasite (The Domino Project #3)

For Papilie and Mumskins

You showed me the world and opened doors.

I love you both always.

It feels like indigestion, the rumble in his stomach, but it’s not and he knows it isn’t. Bastian puts his hand to his mouth as if to smother a cough, disguising the sliver of white powder he passes through his lips, to control the outburst and dull the awakening. He glances at where a group of children huddle around a boy of similar age.

Zach revels in the attention, basks in it even. It’s obvious he’s dramatizing everything. At least, it is to Bastian. Not that it matters. The less attention on him, the less likely his abilities will be noticed. Ever since he was a child, his parents worried about when his powers awoke. They warned him and schooled him and treasured him as if he’d break—as if he’d be taken away.

Just the opposite of Zach, whose abilities are less than he portrays, Bastian’s are more—so much more than he’d ever let on to anyone. Except maybe Mason. Deep down, though, both brothers harbor the same thirst, the same need, the same iron clad will to do whatever it takes.

The rumble interrupts his thoughts, fighting the drug and his own harsh control of the situation. Out of the corner of his eye, Bastian catches a glimpse of something and for a moment—just a moment—forgets his current plight. Which comes back with an extra sharp dig to his entire diaphragm, as if out of spite.

He bites down on his lip and leaves Zach to his circle of adoration. Once he’s around the corner, he clasps his arms around his middle, only to stop short and cock his head to the side.

“Twelve?” he asks softly, having heard of the experiment before. It looks liquid and odd, lacking any real definition except for arms, legs and a head. Nothing like his teenage imagination had pictured. None of the features are defined properly, with an iridescent shimmer running through it constantly, like tiny stars in their own galaxy.

“Domino.” Its voice is strange, alien-sounding, as if it doesn’t get a chance to use its vocal chords much.

“You’re a domino,” Bastian states, fascinated by it—so like himself and yet completely different. “You were the twelfth.”

It nods and mimics him, cocking its own head to the side for a moment before straightening and cracking something that can’t possibly be bones because it doesn’t have them. Bastian fights off a shiver.

“I am Domino.” The metallic clang is gone, leaving the tone softer, gentler, and decidedly more human. It pushes itself away from the wall and takes a few steps back and forth. As it moves, its legs take on a more defined shape, followed by its upper torso and arms.

It’s the eyes that are hypnotic—fascinating, really, as they whirl through a multitude of colors Bastian didn’t even realize existed. Slowly, the domino’s face takes on a human shape, the mimicry gone. There are edges to him, distinctly alien ones, but Twelve is definitely male. His skin isn’t skin. It’s an iridescent form of metal, fading in and out with his surroundings, disorienting Bastian a little.

“Thank you.” And it…no, he smiles.

The expression sends another shiver up Bastian’s spine. “You’re welcome.” He manages not to stammer. And still, he can’t tear his eyes away, despite how his own gut is twisting and tearing at him, trying to break free. He stumbles a step and leans against the wall, aware that he probably shouldn’t be standing.

The domino frowns, a strange expression on the reflective face. Bastian wonders why he can’t see himself in it.

“You are not well,” he states.

“No, no, I’m really not.”

“But you hide it. I understand this.” With one quick motion, the domino lifts Bastian up and carries him down a set of stairs Bastian didn’t even know existed. “I will hide you until you wish to be found.”

Bastian wonders why it doesn’t feel dangerous. After all, the horror stories about the Domino Project could chill anyone’s blood. But this one, the first one, feels nothing but safe. There are no serrated edges and no obvious thirst for blood. There is a strange compassion in those flickering eyes and even the weird expressions that flit over his face.

The cot he’s placed on is firm but not hard, and the stress of standing, of hiding his awakening powers, has been more than Bastian could bear for a while now.

The domino frowns. “You are hurt.” He reaches out a hand and lays it on Bastian’s chest, eyes closing for a moment. “You should let it pass. Even I had to let it pass.”

“I know. I just don’t want everyone to know.”

“Then not everyone will know.”

“Why help me?”

The domino shrugs, such a human gesture that it’s difficult for Bastian to think of him as anything but. “Because you spoke to me. Because you do not believe all the thoughts in your head. No one has spoken to me as a person since Mathur died. Not one.”

“Oh.” It’s a good reason, a very good reason, and Bastian relaxes. “Thanks, Dom.”

“Dom?” He smiles, a scary parody of a human smile with a mouth that can’t seem to understand the concept. “I like that.”

Safer than with Mason, and safer than in the recess area, Bastian finally lets his power claim him. Even the Shine, still bitter on his tongue, can’t dull the pain.

But Dom—with his cool hand placed gently over Bastian’s mouth to drown out the screams of pain and his own shields tightly clamped around the room—helps Bastian plant the seed of a long-awaited revenge.

Pieces of Iota’s devastation spread like breadcrumbs around its site. Flames still cling to odd pieces of cargo and hull, and a faint psionic shield wavers unsteadily, flickering in and out of effectiveness as the sun sets. A portion of the lower hull teeters precariously under the shielding, as if a soft breeze could blow it over.

Dom brings Mele to a halt and steps out slowly. Rapidly switching his vision through infrared and thermal, he approaches the fading barrier, which appears to be shielding them from the fading rays of light, but could also be attuned for protection.

Behind a stack of rubble, much of which appears to be various appendages of Damascus soldiers, is a soft thermal glow. The shield wavers and blinks out as the final rays of the sun end in a dull red glimmer. Dom moves closer, pushing back the darkness that threatens to overtake him as panic works itself into knots in his brain. There’s no time for it now; he can’t let it control him. He rounds the final portion of rubble mixed with oddly melted adrium, devoid of its electricity, frozen into a rigid splashes of the metal, and steels himself

Amidst crates and weapons, four bodies are huddled together, and Dom checks the life signs again, frowning. Sai’s black hair drapes over Darrien’s face. Not far from them, Aishke’s skin gleams like a bronze terracotta statue in the flickering light. For once, Iria’s soft sepia tones are grey.

Dom blinks and scans again. The darkness threatens the edges of his vision, crowding his mind with unneeded negativity. Impatiently, he shakes his head, freeing himself for another respite. He kneels down in one swift movement, gently maneuvering Aishke and checking for Iria’s life signs. But as he does, a coppery smell assaults him with an underlying aftertaste of decay. He knows before his hands come away from Iria’s bloody wound that she’s dead. She’s stiff and cold, rigor-mortis having long set in.

Sai’s breath comes in short and shallow gasps, but apart from exhaustion and some scrapes and cuts, he can’t see anything wrong with her. Perhaps her synapses are damaged. But he shakes himself, culling that thought, and switches himself into efficiency mode.

He grapples with the first-aid kit, ripping their body armor, cleaning out wounds, and applying bandages. Working as quickly as he can, he brings all three survivors back to Mele, arranging them on the floor and seats.

Settling Sai into the passenger side, he hesitates and fiddles with Mele’s console. He sets the frequency to their alternate gauge, searching for the blip that is Alpha, and finally heads out to retrieve Iria.

The cool night air breezes over his body as he kneels to lift her. She’s stiff, and her still-open eyes gaze lifelessly at the crumbling hull above her. He reaches up and closes them with some difficulty. It seems wrong that she’s so quiet, so motionless. She seems much smaller in death. Anger boils inside him and feeds the lurking parasite. He fights it, determined not to let it win.

Once back in Mele, he wraps Iria in a blanket and settles her against the rear wall, strapped in for good measure. He changes the gauze on Darrien’s shoulder and stomach wound, douses Aishke’s many cuts with so much disinfectant that she stirs briefly, and then bandages up the deep graze around her midsection.

He stops for a second when he reaches Sai, ignoring the locator bleep screaming at him from the console. Her body armor is stuck to several of her wounds, almost embedded into the graze at her side, like a blast barely missed her. He kneels and attempts to pick some of the material out, only to cause a gasp of pain. Her complexion is sallow, not the healthy tawny glow he’s used to.

“…under attack…” crackles through the speakers, startling Dom.

Only static reaches through as he tries to fiddle with the reception, and he pushes out his consciousness, clicking his tongue in frustration at his lack of range. If only Sai were awake. His hands fly over the controls to set Mele on the fastest course toward Alpha’s last location. Looks like he’ll be pushing her limits again.

Alpha is stationary and eerily silent when Mele catches up to it. The adrium netting camouflage flickers in and out softly, appearing every several seconds, as if a swarm of fireflies surround the dome. Dom sighs with relief that it’s still standing. Without seeing them, he knows there are people working frantically to get it functional again. If it doesn’t work properly, they’re sitting ducks.

The cargo ramp lowers slowly, an occasional hitch pausing it. Dom waits impatiently, tapping his foot and the light from the lowering ramp momentarily blinds him. As he pulls Mele into the bay, laser points appear on his vehicle—targeting sights for crossbows. He moves cautiously toward the door as it opens and finds Mason, pale and gaunt, flanked by two guards on each side.

They acknowledge him by lowering their weapons.

“It’s you.” The relief in Mason’s tone is palpable, as is the exhaustion.

“Medics,” Dom says shortly, feeling the irritation trying to poke through his control. “I picked up survivors.”

Mason raises his eyebrows as he motions over to the cargo bay door. He takes a step inside Mele and glances around. “Survivors.” His shoulders sag, and the tension drains from his frame a little. “I thought we’d lost them all.”

Dom has a thousand things sitting on his tongue, but he swallows most of them and settles for, “I thought we’d lost her. I can’t afford to lose her.” His grip on the sinuous tendrils of impatience and darkness tightens, choking them back.

“None of us can, Dom. None of us can,” is all Mason says as he backs out of the way of the approaching medics. Jeffries is hot on their heels.

“What happened?”

“Damascus. In and out. Got the Shine.”

Jeffries’ eyes narrow as his eyes fall on the body wrapped up in the back. He swallows, taking in the scene in the small transport. “Only three, then.” His medics are loading them onto gurneys, and he stops at Dom, putting a hand on his shoulder and looking directly in his eyes.

“Thank you for retrieving them. They’re the only ones you found?”

Dom blinks, thinking briefly back to the destruction and carnage around Iota. “Her psionic shield was already wavering around them. There were no other heat signatures.” He doesn’t mention the melted domino parts he found. Just thinking of it makes his insides churn in ways that bring him to the brink again. Jeffries nods at him and follows the gurneys as they leave Mele. Dom watches them go, hesitating to follow Sai.

“Bastian didn’t come back with you, then?” Mason’s voice is quiet and Dom cringes.

He hadn’t even thought about Bastian since he left to find Sai. How to… “He got caught trying to disable the device. Zach set a trap for him.”

Mason’s breath catches, almost like he’s going to cry, but his expression closes off and he shakes his head. “It’s lucky it didn’t ensnare the both of you. He’ll get out somehow. He’ll play it to his advantage.” The last part sounds like the man is trying to convince himself, and Dom waits for a moment before speaking.

“He always does.”

Dom sits in the infirmary. Sai’s cubicle is cramped, but he insisted on dragging a chair in there since he can’t lean against the wall. The curtains make for minimal privacy, but he watches her sleep nevertheless. It helps him deal with the constant nagging at his mind, the constant, surreptitiously violent thoughts trying to insert themselves into his actions.

Her chest rises and falls, and the white of her hospital gown actually allows her skin to regain some of its usual bronzed glow. Even in her healing-induced sleep, she seems concerned. Her brows furrow slightly, and every now and then her mouth pulls down into a frown.

“Sai?

Dom glances around the tiny area and shakes his head, chiding himself for hearing things.

Sai?

Her eyes move rapidly under her eyelids for a moment and Dom pokes his head quickly around the curtain, but there’s no one there either, except for Aishke in the next bed. Looking back, he scoots forward and places his hand on her forehead…

…only to get sucked into the message being sent straight to her mind.

Listen to me, Sai. I don’t have much time. The voice is poignantly familiar, strangely comforting, even if Dom has to strain to eavesdrop.

They know where you are. You have to keep them away. Get rid of the tracking device on the frontal under-plating of the hull.

But… Even her psionic voice is weak, distant. …there’s no way I can do that. Not now.

The voice persists, and Dom realizes with perfect clarity that it’s Bastian. Listen. On the frontal under-plating, to the left of the secondary steering column, there is a tracking device. They’re trying to tap into the central system to locate all the Mobiles at once. If you do not retrieve it, every Exiled will die.

Bastian? There’s question in her tone, like she’s only just realized who it is, and Dom sends out a calming thought to try and settle her down.

It’s okay. Dom pushes the thought through. I’ll take care of it.

He feels a wave of relief surge from Bastian through Sai to him and hesitates for a moment. We will come for you.

There’s a pause, and Bastian speaks, slightly softer than before. I’ll be okay. Save yourselves before you think of me.

An image flashes the length of the projections—of crows finding him, picking at him, pecking at his face. Of Damascus crumbling to pieces next to him as they laugh at him with their chalk-on-a-blackboard voices. Blood drips down his scalp and face…

Sai cries out and flings Dom out of her mind, walls slamming up against him. He watches as she tries to push herself up in the bed and lays a calming hand against her arm. “It’s okay, Sai.”

She looks up at him through bleary eyes, her face pale as tears stream down her cheeks. “I can’t. It’s not…” Her voice croaks out the words. “I have to…”

Dom pushes her gently back in bed. “I know what you have to do. I’ll get it done.” She still struggles to sit up, but Dom calls out to the nurse. “Marlene?” A moment later she’s at the foot of the bed, watching Sai struggle.

“What did you do to her?” Marlene turns accusatory eyes on Dom.

“Nothing. She got a message from Bastian. I have to go take care of it.” He turns to leave, but pauses and adds, “I’ll be back soon.”

Picking up his stride, he heads straight for the cargo bay. That Bastian could reach out to her sends a surge of relief through him. The tone, the word choices, everything—they’re all linked to memories that flicker by randomly as Dom heads to the loading area. It’s filled with people when he arrives, organizing wreckage pieces.

“Out. Now.” Dom says the words with a quiet, commanding force behind them and watches as people scatter. Left under-plating? He turns around and finds one of the crawlway openings used for maintenance. Dom doesn’t understand why they didn’t just destroy Alpha, but Bastian alluded to them wanting to tap into the tracking system and locate the rest of the Exiled fleet. At least that lets Dom know exactly where the tracker will be located. He wonders how his friend found out, or failing that, how Bastian managed to project his thoughts this far.

There’s a strange new undercurrent to the hum the Mobile makes as they move. Its age is starting to show. Everything is wearing out here in this heated wasteland.

Dom pushes forward, focusing his hearing for anything else out of sync. Finally, as he approaches the left steering column, he hears it. A slightly out of sync ticking that no one would notice if they weren’t looking for it. The small device sits directly on the column, placed in close proximity to the Exiled tracking center, tapping into the location code of every vehicle. Given enough time, they could trace its patterns and locate all of them at once.

Its tiny light is barely visible. He reaches out and hesitates. It’s probably gathering all sorts of information. It’s just like them to be ruthlessly methodical and seek to wipe out the Exiled in one guaranteed swoop. Surely they didn’t just set it as a tracker?

Glancing around, he switches through his visual modes to seek out any attached wires, but there’s nothing, just the tiny, blipping device sending their signal to the enemy. He maneuvers around, bracing himself on either side of the shaft, and barely avoids the steering column. Careful not to crush the tracker, he has an idea as he plucks it from its perch. The adhesive only gives him minor resistance.

Back in the cargo bay, Mason stands at the door and raises an eyebrow. But Dom shakes his head and continues to one of the benches. Opening one of the overhead compartments, he pulls out a small capsule that they use for sending items to other nearby mobiles. It’s not ideal, but it works in a pinch. He opens the ramp slightly, pops the tracker inside the little pod and clicks the wings out. Setting it down, he activates its evasive maneuver switch, which really only means it’ll zig and zag until it runs out of power, and then sets it loose.

“What was that?” Mason asks, his tone weary.

“Didn’t Sai tell you?”

He shakes his head. “They had to give her a mild sedative.”

Dom raises an eyebrow. “Bastian warned us there was a tracker on board.” He taps his head at Mason’s disbelieving stare.

Mason smiles softly. “Trust my brother to think of others even while in prison.”

“It’s why he was the perfect teacher for Sai. They’re similar in many ways.”

“True. I’ll let Mathur know.” He hesitates. “He really spoke into her mind? You could tell it was him?”

Dom nods. “It appears he’s captive, but alive. Well, even.”

“Join us when you can.” Mason glances away from Dom, a tug of sadness in his expression. He doesn’t even look up as Dom veers back toward the infirmary.

Sai is sleeping when Dom steps back into the tiny cubicle. The hollows under her eyes are so sunken they seem bruised. In the short space of time he was gone, she’s visibly wilted.

“She’s not recovering as quickly as she usually does.” Marlene’s voice holds a bitter tone. Dom peers at her. Her blonde curls aren’t as well-manicured as usual, and a small frown mars her usually professional expression.

“I’m quite sure she didn’t do anything close to what she usually does.”

“How sure?” Marlene turns to him, her eyes suddenly intense.

Dom glances back to the bed. “Positive.”

The nurse sighs and steps to the small opening in the curtains. “Aishke is recovering at a much better rate. She’ll probably be more coherent than Sai sooner.” With a nod, she leaves.

Dom moves to stand next to the bed, steadying himself on the tiny side table. It’s cluttered with all manner of things—bandages, fresh gauze, a sterilization device. Living as an Exiled isn’t anti-tech, but they don’t have the convenience of prepackaging. Here they have to grow what they eat and reuse what they can.

He focuses on the sterilizer and goes over the events leading to here. Zach’s trap, Bastian’s capture, the Damascus leaving Alpha whole… Something doesn’t click, and he can’t tell why. Maybe it’s time to talk to Mathur.

“Dom?” Slender fingers brush the side of his arm, and he looks down at the bed, startled.

Sai’s eyes blink open in the dim light of the room. Tears sit, waiting to be shed. Without a second thought, he bends down and gathers her in a hug. She clings to his neck with one arm, like she’ll never let go.

“Is she really… Is she dead?” Her words gurgle a little as she breathes them into his shoulder, as if she’s choking back the tears. He nods, not trusting himself to speak.

And then he holds her while the sobs wrack her frame, wishing he could cry with her.

The punching bag bounces, barely missing Sai’s face as she dances lightly around it on the balls of her feet. It’s not going to hit her. She never lets it. The jiggle of the support as it rebounds back and forth pushes her adrenaline forward, makes her move in synch and feel like maybe this time she’ll be fast enough.

Like she wasn’t for Iria.

Like she keeps failing to be for Bastian.

Her eyebrows fail her, and sweat pours over them, momentarily blinding her. It runs down her back, soaking through her shirt and spattering onto the ground. The skylight illuminates the dark spots on the mats, as if thirsting for the rarely occurring rainfalls. She ducks wildly, knowing the rebound should be close, but no thud makes contact with her skin.

“Trying to hit yourself in the face won’t bring her back.” Aishke’s quiet voice breaks through the silence as Sai blinks her eyes open.

The irritation rising in her throat flees as quickly as it arrived at the sight of Aishke’s expression. “I know,” is all Sai says instead of the tirade balancing precariously on her tongue. Out of everyone, Aishke was there. And Sai owes Ash for everything the girl let her take from her.

So she takes a deep breath as the bag swings back to rest and speaks softly, watching the chain sway. “I needed to deal with everything.”

“And you do this by hitting things?” Not even Aishke’s normal sting accompanies the quip. Instead it falls flat, like the sweat on the mats between them.

“I deal by…” But there’s nothing to say. Aishke is right—Sai isn’t dealing. She’s denying. “Are you ready to practice?”

Avoidance is definitely easier.

Aishke glares at her for a moment, her pale eyes such a contrast to her skin they almost glow. “Fine.” Her shoulders tense as she sits down cross-legged on the floor next to the now-still punching bag. “I don’t know why we have to do this. We can obviously use it when necessary…” She glances away, biting her lip.

Sai watches her, the rapid pace of her chest rising and falling, the way tears start to form in the corners of her eyes but are banished each time she gulps. “Ash? Are you okay?” As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she knows they’re the wrong thing to say.

“No.” But Ash still won’t look at Sai. “I’m really not. I don’t know how you can go on like this, how you can be so blasé. She’s gone.”

This time Sai’s the one to glance away. Because she knows Iria is gone, knows it with such a soul-wrenching weariness that it hurts every time she thinks of it. Knows it so well, so intimately that she can still feel the blood pouring from the wound, the flesh and veins refusing to knit back together. All this power, all this healing at her fingertips, and Sai couldn’t save her friend. It’s painful to think of, easy to feel those tears push back to the surface.

But there are other people relying on her. People like Bastian who are stuck in place, who need her help to get them out, to set them free.

So, for the thousandth time since she woke up, Sai bites back the tears and sucks them down. She ties off the emotion viciously and stashes it away. Right now, she has to make sure no one else dies at the hand of the GNW and, more importantly, that no one else dies because she wasn’t well enough prepared.

Sai joins Aishke, matching her pose before taking a deep breath. “I’m prioritizing. Grieving can’t help us right now. There’ll be time to lick our wounds when everything is over.” She leans forward and grips Aishke’s hands gently, squeezing them with all the reassurance she can manage.

The younger girl meets her eyes, fresh tears sparkling at the corners. “Damn you and your logic.” But her hands squeeze back, almost like they’re clinging, and for a few moments they just sit there, lending strength to each other.

“You up for this?” Sai asks, more gently this time.

“Just like the last three days—yes.” Some of Aishke’s usual fire is back. It’s refreshing.

Sai closes her eyes and digs down deep, casting out her mind to find Aishke. It’s so much easier now, just a second, a thought, a whim even. She knows the essence of her friend, its silken, almost deadly texture. Aishke is like a bomb—best handled by someone who knows what they’re doing. Her power is shy and jaded, wary of anything and easily set off, but it knows Sai now. After a few days of practice, it’s nothing like it was that night with the attack. Nothing like the sheer desperation of throwing anything and everything at the things that killed Iria.

For a breath, Sai’s resolve wavers and she loses the thread.

“Maybe you’re not up for it right now?” Aishke’s tone is gentle, and Sai opens her eyes to peer at her.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” More right than she likes to admit.

Mathur’s lab is full when Sai gets there, with barely enough room for her to perch on her usual chair hidden away in the corner. On the upside, there’s enough going on that being left alone with her thoughts isn’t even an option. She runs over Bastian’s conversation in her head yet again. Something is off, but she can’t think what. While it was him, he was definitely withholding something.

Jeffries, Mathur, and Dom huddle around the dominos, frowns on their faces. Mason watches them, the skin on his face so loose Sai thinks that if she reaches out she could pull at it. Such a change in the last six months. Even the twitch at his left eyelid, his tell that he’s using his psionics, is more pronounced. She frowns, too—he shouldn’t be using at all in his current state.

“What do you think?” Mathur smiles tiredly and places a hand briefly on her shoulder, interrupting her thoughts. “They are coming along, yes?”

“Almost there?” Sai lets herself relax just for a second. Mathur’s enthusiasm has always been infectious. “I think it’s close. They feel almost right?” She scrunches up her nose and shrugs. “I’m not sure that makes any sense.”

“It makes perfect sense.” He moves across to supervise whatever it is Dom and Jeffries are doing. Their heads bob over the prone domino on the examination table.

Sai worries at her lip while she watches them, flexing her feet and rising to the tips of her toes. Her legs have this strange flawlessness about them. Sometimes she forgets they’re made of the same adrium the dominos are. They often feel energized, even when she’s tired. There are times where the joining flesh aches and other times where it rubs raw and headaches are more frequent now. Jeffries seems quite certain that’s from the synaptic connections and wants her to monitor it while taking it as easy as she can.

Mason claps his hands as Aishke walks into the room, pulling Sai out of her thoughts. “We’re all here.”

Sai thinks there’s a slight rasp to his voice that wasn’t there before, and she watches him closely as Aishke huddles in the corner with her. His health is still deteriorating, even if it’s visibly slowed. Bastian’s capture must be wearing on him, too. It has to be; it’s all she can do to stop herself from forgetting everything else to go and retrieve him. For Mason? It must be agonizing.

He clears his throat, and even Dom stops tinkering with his sibling. “While we’ve lost our best line of communication with Bastian due to his…current predicament—” There’s a tightening of the lines around Mason’s eyes, and Sai can’t tell if it’s a grimace or a half-smile. “—it seems that he can, in times of dire need, reach out through psionic power.”

Jeffries perks up at that. “I know he warned Sai, but hasn’t he been dulling his power for years with Shine?”

Dom nods. “He’s been overdoing it, but his system has built up such an immunity that he has to. The other effects of the drug can leave him woozy but are having less of an impact on his psionic strength.”

“You’re a doctor now?” Jeffries smiles as he says the words, but Dom doesn’t.

Instead, the domino straightens and crosses his arms. “No, but I’ve seen how it affected him up close.”

Jeffries looks away with a sigh. “I’m just wondering how much he can help us without putting himself in more danger. I’m sick and tired of burying our friends.”

“We’re going to bury a lot more people before this is over.” Sai pushes her hair back from her shoulder. “It could be you, it could be me, it could be a whole lot of us.” She can feel Dom’s eyes rest on her, their weight somewhat of a comfort in her new found clarity. “None of this is guaranteed. War isn’t pretty.” She sits down, her energy sapped and her legs heavier than usual.

Aishke reaches over and squeezes Sai’s hand. The sudden warmth is welcome.

“She is right.” Mathur sounds as tired as he looks and doesn’t bother to stand. It’s painful to hear the sadness in his voice. “Many of us will die, maybe even all of us. But we will do everything we can to avoid this. Mason?”

“We have to assume that, with Bastian out of the picture, Zach has inserted himself closer to Deign. He’s dangerous. All he wants is more power for himself, and he’s never considered any actions he takes past that factor. If what intel Garr has been able to gather and smuggle to us is correct, he’s begun taking charge of the Damascus contingent. Our intel is less reliable because of the distance between the GNW and our other sources.”

“How badly did Bastian get caught?” Jeffries can’t keep the scowl off his face.

“I’m not sure.” Dom pauses for a moment. “I mean, he stuck to his reasoning. His walls are second to none. I doubt they’ll get the truth out of him easily.”

“His reasoning?” Jeffries raises an eyebrow.

“The Damascus are a threat to us all and need to be turned off sooner rather than later. If they take this at face value, which Deign likely will, he was acting in the interests of the GNW.”

Jeffries frowns. “What about Zach?”

Dom shakes his head. “His only problem with Zach will be Zach getting a read of his real power. I’m not sure they’ll be dosing him with enough Shine to get past his built-up immunity. Hopefully it’ll be enough.”

“His only problem?” Aishke’s voice is soft, but the tone is slightly more pitched than usual. Sai can almost see the girl shake as she continues. “Zach is the reason he got caught. Even if his reasonings for what he does are always selfish, Unc—Zach is still very much a danger to Bastian and to us.”

A shiver runs down Sai’s spine at the realization that Aishke is right, and she watches the rest of the room go through similar comprehension.

“Zach…” Dom pauses, eyes flickering briefly through red and black before they settle back on silver. “While unpredictable, Zach has only ever had one goal: to set himself up in the position he feels he deserves. He’s always seen himself as better than others.”

Mathur clears his throat. “As long as they continue to follow protocol and dose suspects with Shine to limit access to their powers, it might be enough. It should keep the edge off and prevent Zach from noticing anything amiss to drag him down further.”

Jeffries leans back, a thoughtful crease to his brow. “So we hope he concentrates his attention on taking what Deign has and dismisses Bastian now?”

Mathur nods. “And messing with Deign is a whole other level of stupidity.”

A nervous chuckle spreads through the room.

Mason smiles tightly. “Let’s hope both of their minor obsessions with my brother pays off. We digress, though. Basically, we need to train our forces and protect what is ours until we can launch an attack. The sooner, the better. We can’t produce any more dominos, so we have to act before they can create too many more Damascus, or we don’t stand even the minuscule chance we have now.” Mason glances at Mathur and receives a slight nod in response. “Dom is helping tweak his brethren. Hopefully, they’ll be completely ready soon.”

Mathur stands. “Soon it will be.” He nods at the room and turns back to his tasks. Jeffries leaves at the obvious dismissal.

This time it’s Sai who clears her throat as she turns to Mason and Aishke. “You’re both proficient enough to help me train others. It’s more efficient if we can expand and give more concentrated training to those who need it. Darrien might be able to join us, too. Not everyone is able to access their core or have one that matters enough to bother. Are there any more potential trainees?”

“A few dozen sourced from all Mobiles. We’ll have them in the next few days, after several transports lose any chance of a tail.” Mason is watching her closely, that stern look on his face. “You okay?”

She shrugs and takes a step to the side, not wanting comfort of any sort. “I have to be.”

He smiles sadly at her and beckons to Aishke. “Just for now.” They leave the room with a swish of his coat.

Sai turns to watch as Dom and Mathur fiddle with the dominos, bouncing on the balls of her feet to release some of the tension flooding her. The reaction time of both her feet and legs are off the charts—for a human. “I’m not quite human anymore,” she murmurs under her breath.

“What?” Dom is standing close to her, concern on that unique face of his. “You’re what?”

“Huh?” She blinks at him, only belatedly aware that she spoke her thoughts audibly. Or else he eavesdropped. About to chide him, she stops as sirens blare throughout Alpha.

“What’s happening?”

Report to stations immediately. Teams Four, Six, and Seven to the docking area.

Dom’s eyes flash through a sequence of colors before he answers. “They hit Mobile Ksi. They’re calling salvage and recovery teams to alert.”

Sai gulps. “Already…”

Dom scans the now-vacant room and gently tugs on her hand, leading her out. “It’s your day off from this. You need to rest.”

“I’m perfectly fine to go.” Sai stops and crosses her arms. “I’m not fragile.”

“No one is saying you are, but you’ve been going nonstop since she died, Sai.” Dom glances up and down the hall before stepping in front of her and grabbing her shoulders gently. “You need to let up on yourself. There are plenty of us. Let someone else deal with this tonight. If I’m not mistaken, Mason is already on the way.”

Sai opens her mouth and thinks for a second before actually speaking. “He shouldn’t be going in his state.”

Dom steps back and looks at her. If he could express it properly, she knows it’d be incredulous, but instead he seems mildly threatening. “And you’re going to tell him this?”

“Well…” She glares at him. “No.”

“You can talk to me about it if you like.”

And suddenly she knows he doesn’t mean Mason. He means what she said about not being human, about…she can’t even bring herself to think it.

“I know, but right now—” She glances at her watch and smiles. “Right now I have to meet Aishke. If you’re really okay without me, I did promise her.”

He nods. “The damage is already done there. Jeffries and Marlene went with them.”

The words are heavy, and she fights the brief impulse to go with him anyway. She forces herself to set off toward her broken apartment at a comfortable jog.

There’s a subtle shift in the floor whenever a transport leaves the Mobile. Her legs have become far more attuned to it since her accident. It shifts three times before Sai gets to the apartment, and she has to stop herself from turning around. There’s food on the tables, fresh stuff. It’s a nice change since it started being rationed.

Sai glances around and notices the light squeal in the air that means the steam shower was just used. She hesitates before picking up a piece of cheese and sitting down to wait for Aishke. It’s not long before her friend walks out of her bedroom, dressed comfortably and looking far too weary for someone their age.

“Can’t believe you didn’t go.” Her words are soft, with a hint of surprise.

“Dom wouldn’t let me.”

Aishke laughs. “That explains it then.”

They munch on their food in silence, but Sai can’t help watching her friend. The way Aishke is eating. The shifty movement of her eyes to look at everything in the apartment but Sai. “What’s wrong?”

Aishke glances up from her food, a tiny bit of tomato sauce running down her chin. “Sorry?”

“You won’t make eye contact, you usually talk with your mouth full, and you never let your hair get damp unless you’re going to wash it. It’s so tangled there’s no way you sacrificed your three minutes to wash it today. What gives?” Sai cringes inwardly, worried she may have come off a little harsher than intended.

“Sorry.” Aishke blushes and looks away again. “I’ve just… I really want to talk to you and what I have to say isn’t easy for me.”

“You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.” Sai moves closer and is taken aback when Aishke’s hand juts out to keep her away.

“You don’t get it. What I have to tell you, I have to tell you to help you.” She breathes in, her shoulders shaking. “You’re not dealing, Sai. You’re not letting go. You’ve been there for me ever since Bastian placed me in your care. Now, it’s my turn.”

Sai straightens up and crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not about turns. You don’t do something for someone hoping for something in return.”

Aishke laughs softly, but it doesn’t sound happy. “You would give someone the skin off your back if you thought it would spare them pain. You’re about to work yourself into the ground to single-handedly defeat the GNW.”

Sai mutters under her breath. “It’s only been a week…”

“None of this, ‘It’s only been a week.’ You’re only upright because you’re speed-healing yourself!” Aishke’s glare silences any comeback. “It’s my turn to try and take care of you because right now you’re being unreasonable about everything. I’m worried. Mason, Mathur, Dom, Jeffries…they’re worried, too. Now sit down, shut up, and for once in your life just listen.”

Sai all but stumbles into the chair. Aishke has never been this forceful. Aishke has never been this grown up before. And so, she nods. “Okay, I’m listening.”

“Real listening. No pretending, no interrupting—just listen and try to understand.” Aishke’s tone is firm and her jaw is set.

Sai nods. and Aishke smiles shyly, taking a deep breath.

“Everyone knows you had issues when your abilities awoke. You’re aware I had my own…difficulties. But I don’t think you understand the extent of them. I didn’t get psionics at puberty. In fact, we thought I wouldn’t have any awakened abilities at all, even though my birth parents both had the gene. If everything had just kept on its merry way, Sai, I wouldn’t even be here today. I wouldn’t be a psionic.”

Sai bites her tongue to stop herself from saying anything. She fidgets, her fingers intertwining with one another, and waits, knowing as soon as Ash is ready, she’ll speak again.

Aishke’s gaze is riveted on a spot on the ground. “I had a fight with my mother. The worst fight I’ve ever had. It was about Mason, the GNW, her place in the GNW, her plans for me—which never seemed to include what I wanted. I’ve never been so angry in my life, so full of rage and hatred. All I wanted was for her to shut up…”

A few tears slip down Aishke’s face, washing away the errant tomato sauce in the process. In an odd way, as it drips onto her clean shirt, it mimics diluted blood.

“I just wanted her to stop speaking to me like I was still a child, you know?” Aishke’s breath falters as she swallows a sob. “It didn’t work like that—nothing worked like that. I should have known…”

She sniffs and looks directly at Sai, pale violet eyes bright with unshed tears. “Something snapped. I saw red, my anger boiled over, and I wanted everything gone—everything. Me, her, the house, the world, everyone and everything.” The tears are a steady stream of liquid regret. “I almost did it. Everything in front of me suddenly erupted in this huge explosion—the walls the doors, the ceiling…”

Aishke pauses and hugs her arms around herself. She bites her lip and closes her eyes, just briefly, before continuing in a soft, pained tone. “I should be dead, Sai. I should, but even as much as I hated her right then, even though she had to have known it was me calling down chaos on our heads…she saved me.” Aishke waits for a moment before continuing. “She jumped toward me and wrapped herself around me and shielded me from the debris falling around us. The debris I caused.

“I killed her, Sai. While I may not have realized that wishing with all my might would unlock something, I killed my whole household, and the person I aimed everything at was the same person who loved me so much that she died saving me.” Aishke shudders, still fighting the sobs as her shoulders shake. Her voice hitches, and all Sai wants to do is hug her and soothe away that pain.

“So, I know, Sai. I know about wanting to die because you think someone died in your place. Only I wanted my mother to die. For a split-second, I truly wanted it to happen. I willed my power to wake up and I sentenced her to death. And do you know how I dealt with that?” She waits, gaze focused on Sai, expectant.

Sai never realized how deep Ash’s trauma went, even after hours of shared space while practicing with the core. It was remiss; she should have asked. “How?”

“You and Bastian and your faith in me. Mason’s love for me ,even though he knows what I did, and Dom’s belief that I’m strong enough to be an asset to everyone—to help far more people than I’ve harmed.” Aishke pulls herself up, tears still glistening on her cheeks. Her back straight, she stands proud, almost smug at the position she maneuvered herself into.

Sai can’t help the blush that rises, nor the scorn she feels for herself upon recognizing the self-recrimination she’s been wallowing in since Iria’s death.

“She knew you could teach people techniques to defend themselves with, and she knew you’re stubborn enough to dig your heels in and do everything you can for that freedom you so cherish.”

Aishke lowers herself and kneels, placing her hands over Sai’s. “Don’t let her death be in vain. Don’t let her faith be misplaced. Don’t lose the strong person you are just because of one lost friend. Honor her and everyone else who fights this fight. Stop blaming yourself, please?” She rests her head on Sai’s knees, and her red-tinged hair falls, hiding her face.

“I will.” Sai nods and strokes her back as Aishke lets the rest of her tears pour out. “It’s never just about one person,” she murmurs, not sure if her friend is listening. “Sometimes I lose sight of that.”

The Mobile feels eerily empty as Sai closes the door behind her. There’s no bright smile to greet her, no cascading laughter or joke so stupid it’s funny. Even the halls seem dimmer with Iria gone.

Sai steps into a jog, concentrating on the motion to distract her. Stopping and starting abruptly, testing her legs and endurance. She frowns for a moment as her heel slips and realizes there’s a few drops of condensation dripping down from the ceiling. It must have been a cold night. Still, as long as it’s not her legs.

She jogs along the corridor, marveling at the lack of people. It’s unusual for her to be awake this early. Usually she sleeps as long as she can after fitful nights of tossing and turning. But Aishke’s wise words sit with her, boosting her energy and confidence.

Don’t let that death be in vain. Don’t let her faith be misplaced. Don’t lose the strong person you are just because of one lost friend. Honor her and everyone else who fights this fight…

She’d been too busy wallowing and trying to figure out a way to exact revenge. Too busy worrying about Bastian now he was in definitive danger. It took her friend to smack truth in her face. Sai smiles at the thought, at the effort it took for Aishke to open up to her like that, and at the friendships she’s made, which all began with her meeting Bastian.

“Maybe alone isn’t the only option,” she mutters as she arrives at the laboratory.

Pushing the door open, she’s a little surprised to find no one in the room. That is to say, no one she was expecting. Domino Thirty-Five sits on one of the chairs, fiddling with the inside of its elbow. It looks up, a vague expression of interest crossing its face as it recognizes her. “Sai.”

The voice is far more hollow than Dom’s. More metallic with less substance. It makes Sai wonder if they’re all like that.

“Hey…Thirty-Five.” It feels odd to call him a number. She hasn’t referred to Dom as a digit for longer than she can remember.

It flexes its fingers. “It is early. Mathur is not yet here.”

“Ah.” She glances around the room, at the cots scattered here and there with prone dominos on them, and wonders briefly if they really do require sleep. Dom doesn’t seem to need sleep, but then Dom rarely seems to need anything. She frowns.

Thirty-Five stands up. “Would you like me to get Dom for you?”

Sai cocks her head to one side, struck by the eerie coincidence of thoughts and the address the domino uses. “Why don’t you call him Twelve?” she asks before she really thinks it through.

Thirty-Five blinks. “Because Dom may have once been Twelve, but now he is simply Dom.”

“Not one or the other then. Dom is himself?” This train of thought fascinates her.

It stands there for a few moments, obviously thinking things through. “He is both. We are all two parts. He is simply—currently—more.”

Maybe it’s right. After all, they’d know, right? “It’s okay. I can go and find him myself.”

Thirty-Five nods, its eyes never wavering. “I do not think you need to. They are approaching.”

Sai strains to hear, and a second later voices drift through to them.

“I’m not sending them away, Mathur.” Jeffries sounds weary, like he’s argued the point too many times.

“It is safer for them.” The old man’s voice is getting louder as they approach.

Even Dom’s quiet tones sound perplexed. “We can’t do without you, but I’m not sure you can do without them…”

Jeffries sighs as he pushes through the door. “And that’s just the…” He pauses as he sees Sai and Thirty-Five.

She smiles brightly, trying to ease the tension that just wafted into the room. “Guess I’m not the only one awake.”

“Are you all right, Sai?” Dom asks her softly, his arms crossed and eyes still focused on Jeffries.

“Just woke up early,” she answers. “What aren’t we sending away?”

Jeffries sighs and throws his hands up in the air. “They want to separate the families out to keep them safe and out of harm’s way. Essentially, it’s a good idea.” He slumps into the chair closest to him. “But that doesn’t make it easy—I’m the only one of you who has family. I can’t keep them safe here, and I can’t leave either. I just…”

Sai watches Jeffries for a moment, thoughts battling in her head. She hadn’t even thought about his family. Sometimes her focus gets too narrow. She fetches a cup of water and kneels down, pushing it up to him. “You know—you’re a part of keeping everyone safe. While you need them, would you feel better or worse knowing they’re in a targeted Mobile?”

“Worse.” He glares at her but takes a sip. “Much worse.”

She smiles and stands back up. Hard truths, like Aishke did for her. She has a feeling everyone needs a few of them. “Your family is one of the few left here. I’ll do my best to get you back to them.”

“It is good to see you back.” The hint of a smile plays at his lips, but his demeanor turns stern as he faces Dom. “Sometimes you can be heavy-handed in your interactions.”

Dom clenches his jaw. “You might have to explain that to me. Technically, all of me is heavy.”

Mathur hesitates, and it seems like he’s trying to fight back a grin. “Put yourself in the shoes of the person you are advising. Sometimes their reasoning is just their own and difficult to quantify into logic.”

Sai watches the exchange with fascination, curious as to why Mathur seems to know Dom less than she does.

Dom relaxes his tense stance as a flash of colors pass through his eyes. “I’m not as hardwired as you think. If you look close, my humanity might surprise you.” Dom turns and walks over to Thirty-Five, dismissing Mathur cleanly.

“That is exactly what I am afraid of.” Mathur’s voice is so soft Sai has to strain to hear it, and the apology nearly drips off his words.

She’s not sure whether Dom hears his father or not, but the words linger in her ears while she watches them. It’s strange they behave that way. It makes her wonder whether or not they realize just how like a real father and son they are. Sai chuckles despite herself.

“Something funny?” Mathur looks over at her, the skin around his eyes crinkling.

“I’m just glad I met everyone.” She grins at him, sincerely meaning the words.

“Or she’s wondering if you realize how much like a human father and son we behave.” Dom doesn’t turn away from the work he’s doing with Thirty-Five.

She has no idea how he does that thing where he just knows. Sometimes she thinks giving him access to help her heal after her accident might have been a mistake. Otherwise, her shields are tight.

“Really?” Mathur raises an eyebrow. “We do, do we?”

“A lot of the time.” Jeffries stands up and brushes his hands on his lab coat. “I need to find James and figure out how we can get these relocations organized. I may not like it, but you all have a point.” He nods and leaves. Sai watches him go. Even his gait holds an air of sadness to it.

“I think I need to learn more tact.” Dom’s voice is so close to her she jumps. “Sorry.” His lip curls in humor, and Sai notices his smile is getting less serial-killer-like.

“You need more tact, more manners, and an understanding of when and what humor is appropriate. But that’s okay—you’ll probably live forever. You have plenty of time.” She grins at him to take the sting off the words.

“Enough.” Mathur waves an arm and breaks up the chatter. “Kayde needs you to take the Shine I keep locked in my safe down to her. She is readjusting one of the parameters of Ebony. Apparently there was something wrong with the batch Dom took for initial testing.”

Dom blinks at the man. “Lucky I didn’t get the ventilation system open, then.”

Sai glances at Dom. He’s not usually snide. Then again, he’s becoming more human every day. Since returning to Alpha after Iota’s demise, he seems a little distant. Again.

Mathur ignores him. “She is trying to figure out how to produce it in bulk. We have many PC hubs to hit if we want to negate the effects of the psionic grids.”

“Twenty-nine PCs, right?” Sai asks, mentally tracking them all in her head, trying to insert something into this strange standoff Dom and Mathur seem to be having.

He nods. “I guess it will take a while to distribute it all.”

“Do we have that sort of time?” Sai asks, suddenly feeling a little less optimistic.

“As long as you come with me, Sai, it will work,” Dom interjects before Mathur can answer.

Sai blinks at him. “Me? Why me?”

His eyes regard her oddly for a moment, like they’re weighing both her and what he wants to say. His answer sends a shiver down her spine.

“Because none of the other dominos are ready yet, and you’re the closest I have.”

Kayde’s lab has always fascinated Sai. Beakers idly simmer, frothy substances balanced precariously at the rim. Readers are artfully scattered across the table surfaces as if artfully arranged. It’s enough to take her mind off the prospect of having to go on the Ebony runs with Dom. She hopes he knows what he’s doing because she’s still unsure of how far she can push her legs if needed. Kayde smiles at her as she looks up from her table.

“If it were anyone else, Kayde, I’d think you were amazingly and precisely organized.”

“But you know me too well,” Kayde murmurs. The tweezers in her hand barely move, but she grins and places her current beaker back down on the bench. Holding whatever she’s plucked firmly, she whips out a plastic bag and drops the invisible item inside it.

With a satisfied sigh, she finally turns to face her visitor, rubbing her hands together in undisguised glee. “You brought it with you? Mathur finally released it?”

“Yeah.” Sai hands over the container and shrugs. “What does it do, Kayde?”

“Nothing really. It’s just the copies of the pure specimen of Shine we had. Or, I should say, the precise breakdowns of the compound they call Shine. Fascinating, really. I can go through all the ingredients with you one day. Suffice it to say—it’s no wonder this affects people the way it does.” She takes the containers and places them carefully on the metal workbench. “I’m surprised the crap in this drug doesn’t kill people.”

Sai watches, curious as to just how much of the mad scientist label Kayde actually lives up to. If the perfect almost-disarray of the lab is any indication, she’s not really mad at all. Neither is Mathur. Sai frowns.

“Is the Ebony going to be ready?” Dom leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms.

Kayde shrugs. “Technically, it’s ready. I’m just trying to break the texture down. That was the problem with it before. It was too thick and wouldn’t pass through the filtration system, causing a slightly poisonous backlash.”

“Only slightly?” Sai raises an eyebrow. These are cities full of people they’re talking about. She remembers all too clearly how easily they die on the outskirts. They don’t need any help.

Kai shrugs. “The thinner or more transparent I can make it, the better it will be for distribution. It needs to break down in the system so it’s virtually invisible and breathable, since I can’t exactly inject it into someone’s bloodstream.” She glances over at Dom. “And neither can you.”

Sai laughs. “He wouldn’t try. I’m hoping we don’t spend too much valuable time on distributing this stuff.”

“You’d better spend enough, though.” Kayde stops, her smile gone. “Seriously, Sai. This is important. Part of their ongoing victory over the Exiled is their ability to make the citizens of Mid-Am simply not care. We need to stop that, and this is the only way. Once that measure of thought control is gone, there will be nothing they can do to otherwise influence people.”

“People will get to choose what they believe and what they don’t.” Dom’s voice drops a tone, quieter than usual. “You know, like every normal being.”

Sai stamps her foot, ignoring for the moment the petulance in the act. “I know full well why we’re doing it. I wasn’t laughing at the task, but at your weird rivalry.”

“Oh.” Kayde’s face reddens, and she turns back to study the Shine container in her hand with an amazing amount of dedication.

“Anyway…” Sai hesitates for a second before expressing her concern. “Couldn’t Deign just…project?”

Kayde shakes her head. “Not to that extent. Magnified by the grid, she might be able to manage a section, but the Ebony would affect her ability, too.”

“How long then?” Dom interrupts, apparently unfazed by the entire conversation.

Kayde works for a few minutes, ignoring him, her face scrunched in concentration, blonde hair scruffy in its hasty bun. “Give me a day or two. Probably tomorrow night. You could leave after the salvage team returns.”

“Mele can travel during the day.”

Kayde nods. “I know, but night is still easier on all of you. If they’ve adapted their sensors enough to see these monstrosities, maybe they can see her. Night will make it harder.”

Dom shakes his head. “Mele is on a different wavelength. Trust me.”

For a long while, Kayde just looks at him. “One of these days, I’m going to figure out exactly how the alien parasite half of yours works.”

“Deal.” Dom smiles, without putting any effort into it, and Sai can’t help shivering at the result. “You have no idea how much a part of me the parasitic element is.”

Kayde pales, and her tone is cautious when she speaks again. “Any more news from Garr?”

The topic change is welcome, and Sai gladly butts in. “None yet. Have you figured out any solution to the visual acuity improvement Owen is introducing in the Damascus?”

Kayde shakes her head again. “I can’t exactly tweak the netting covering all of the Mobiles we have. Not to mention…” She falters and her face reddens again.

“Not to mention the ones we lost,” Sai finishes for her. There are some days she wishes there were a play button in her head. One she could hit before her vocal chords actually jumped into operational mode. Some things are better without memories.

Kayde nods, fiddles with a couple more of the beakers, and frowns while she transfers yet another invisible item. “It’s not going to help them see Dom and his siblings. It’s probably not even going to help them see Mele. But the Mobiles are so large, there’s really nothing I can do. They’re just too…big. And the nets are attached in so many places, it’d take weeks upon weeks to try and adapt them, and that’s after Mathur and I figure out what the hell it is Owen has done.”

Kayde takes a deep breath and faces Sai. “As good as it is that Garr is still trying to keep us in the loop, she doesn’t have the same resources as Bastian. There’s no way she can smuggle us out a part or plans or instructions or, hell, even hints. All we have is hearsay.”

“Best to stick to what we know.” Dom leans a hand on the bench next to him carefully. “We have to get Ebony distributed as soon as we can. If you need help with it, Kayde, tell someone.”

“I will.” Kayde grins. “But I’m fine.”

Dom nods curtly and turns, taking a step toward Sai. “I have to get back to the others. But should you need me…”

He leaves it open, and she smiles.

“I know.”

He watches her for a second more and then leaves the room.

“You two have some major codependence going on there.” Kayde’s tone is soft, contemplative.

Sai glances at her friend, even though the same thought has occurred to her once or twice. “You think?”

Kayde nods and moves a step closer. “But I think he needs you more than you need him.”

Sai looks up at Kayde, squinting against the lighting in the lab. Her friend is much taller, can probably take a hit or two. “I think you’d be surprised how wrong it feels without him.”

For several breaths, Kayde just studies Sai, an intense gaze raking over her face as if searching for something. “No. Pretty sure I wouldn’t be surprised by that at all.”

Sai’s cheeks heat up almost instantly, and she glances away. “Dom was there for me when I had no one, when I trusted no one.”

“And dominos can’t lie.” Kayde almost whispers the words. “After so many, that must be refreshing.”

Sai nods and rolls her shoulders out. “Dom is just Dom. He’s no one’s perception of anything. I’ve never met anyone more themselves.”

Kayde raises an eyebrow. “Odd phrasing.”

“No.” Sai purses her lips, trying to figure out exactly how to put it into words. “Dom can take on any form, within reason, that he chooses. He has the strength and cunning to do anything he wants with his life now. And yet, he’s chosen to be who he is and do what he’s doing. I find that pretty spectacular.”

Aishke and Darrien are sitting in the training room when she gets there, in complete silence. He’s only a touch taller than her friend, but his body shows off the heavy workout routine James demands. Every time she stands near him, Sai feels dwarfed. She takes in Darrien’s slowly healing wounds and cringes. “Something wrong?”

Aishke blinks owlishly. “Sorry? I was thinking…” She smiles softly and focuses on the ground again.

Darrien shrugs and picks at his uniform. Sai heads to the back of the room to bind her hands, hoping to fend off injuries they can poorly afford right now. While she can heal, it takes energy. Even though she’s been building endurance, just throwing away her reserves isn’t an option.

“Is there any word from the salvage team yet?” Aishke’s voice is soft and hesitant. When Sai turns, the girl is still looking at the ground, uncertainty radiating out like a pinwheel.

“Not that I’ve heard. As soon as someone does, I’m sure we’ll know.” She squeezes Aishke’s shoulder briefly and leans in for just a moment. “Thank you.”

It’s enough to see the slight smile that plays in the corner of Aishke’s lips for just a moment.

“You been practicing, Darrien?”

He nods and rolls his shoulders, lips pursed. “Somewhat.”

She scans him, from the tension in his shoulders to the slight frown on this face to the way he still favors his left side from their run-in with the Damascus. He’s uncomfortable and probably mildly confused. “Is this all of us today?”

“Some were sent on the salvage mission.” Darrien looks away. “Others are still arriving.”

Sai nods and wonders if it’s perhaps best to try and get Darrien back into the swing of things on his own. He had it rough in the encounter, and she didn’t heal him at the site. If she had, they all would’ve been dead. “It’s probably better this way. We have things we need to work through.”

She glances around and motions to Darrien to pull one of the other training dummies out into the middle with her. Two of them lined up, she activates a psionic layer over her hands, hitting the target hard in a flurried pattern. She turns toward the two of them, Aishke still on the floor.

“We lack stamina. And while it’s not the only aspect, our psionic stamina pulls from our physical endurance as well. If we’re not fit enough, we’ll never see this through.”

Aishke frowns up at her. “But we’re so much better now.”

Sai laughs, but it’s a harsh and derisive sound. “Better, yes. But we need to be more. Push more. Three blasts need to be nothing for us. Linking needs to be second nature. We have to make sure that if we push it, we don’t need a week to recover. We can’t win like this.” The words are harsh but true, and the pit of Sai’s stomach twists in knots she’s not entirely sure aren’t her own psionic power feeling the pinch.

Darrien nods, steel entering his gaze. “We need to be stronger.” He clears his throat, a slight flush to his cheeks. “I need to be stronger.”

Sai regards him briefly. “Why? What’s your motivation?”

He blinks at her. “Motivation?”

“What’s your motivation behind becoming stronger? Be the best you can be? Be better than others? Revenge? Competition?” She pushes the point, not having had many opportunities to talk to him since they got back. They’re all so scarred; she needs to know where his head is at. “Why should precisely you be stronger?”

Darrien cricks his neck, and his cheeks flush darker. “Because my sister is in one of those PCs, without a dormant gene or any protection. She believes everything they’ve told her about me. I need to fight for a chance to let her think for herself.”

Sai nods. It’s the right motivation, one she can work with. “Which PC?”

“Fourteen.”

Sai can’t help breathing a sigh of relief. “Having family in Central would be devastating. At least she’s safer there.” For now, anyway.

Aishke stands up, stretching out her shoulders by pushing down with the opposite hand. “If Central goes down, it all falls down.”

Sai smiles. They will be ready. “Like a domino.”

Dom watches as Mathur fusses with the base of Thirty-Five’s skull, pressing at specific points. He frowns a little, and his hands go to the back of his own head to see if he can feel anything there.

“You do not technically have an off-switch,” Mathur says with that subtle lilt to his voice. He reaches for one of the tiny electricity-conducting implements, dwarfed by the adrium stacked around his lab. It’s neat and tidy for the most part, with only a scattering of tools on his current work bench to indicate any activity.

Dom blinks at him, caught slightly off-guard. “I wasn’t really…”

“What are you thinking then?”

He shrugs, glancing at the pulse device which sits off to one side, momentarily on hold. “I’m wondering if we promised their capabilities a little prematurely. I don’t know if we can deliver what is necessary.”

Mathur puts the fine instruments down and turns to face Dom. “We are almost done. They just were not created like you.” He walks over and brushes a finger down Dom’s spine. “You are a whole, a single piece, a complete being. You were incubated as you are for a full nine-month term. They were rushed. The only thing vaguely programmed about you is your reset mode—a trigger I left in place should you melt down.” Mathur turns to face the prone domino on the table and nudges Dom gently. “This one and the rest were created with my plans, but with robotic elements inserted to ‘improve’ them.”

“They’re more advanced than I am?” Even to his own ears, Dom’s voice sounds skeptical.

Mathur chuckles. “No. They are close, but they are missing a few things that I cannot retroactively grant them, and so I must tinker.”

“You can’t recreate something that’s already been made.” Dom’s eyes don’t move from their focus on Thirty-Five as he tries to grasp the elusive idea that these others are like siblings to him. So similar, yet so distant.

Mathur nods and goes to pick up the tools again, but Dom shoots a hand out and stops him.

“Seriously, though. What is it you did to me? How did you make me so different? How were the instructions not included for them?” Dom’s grip is tight and he knows it. He eases up just a little, not wanting to bruise his maker, just needing to know.

“It is sort of a long story.” Mathur shakes Dom’s hand off and gently picks the tools back up. “But I guess there is no time like now to let you in on it.”

Dom leans against the wall, anticipation coursing through him. All these emotions, all the conflict inside him calms. “As it happens, I do have some time right now.”

Mathur chuckles as he goes back to work on the opened cavity behind Thirty-Five’s head. “I think you will be disappointed. It is nothing amazing or overly special, just something unique to a few of us.”

“Spill it.” As Sai would say… Dom waits, glaring slightly at Mathur.

Mathur doesn’t let Dom’s impatience faze him. He slowly completes the delicate work in front of him and shrugs while seaming the adrium back together. “I left them exact instructions. Precise, even. From the intricate positioning of your adjusted organs and access nodes to the complexities of making sure your synapses were connected everywhere they needed to be, while not destroying them with the fusing of the adrium. To be honest, these other versions of you are perfect in almost every aspect.”

Mathur’s eyes are closed, and for a moment Dom feels a light, breezy rush of some form of psionic power, so quick and light he would have missed it had he not been paying attention. “If they’re almost perfect, what’s the difference?”

Mathur sighs and triggers the slow sequence to reinitialize Thirty-Five into waking. “The difference, Dom, is me. I am a healer. I am an exceptionally powerful healer. They spared me from the pits below because healers are uncommon. If they had realized Sai’s healing ability, Bastian would never have gotten his hands on her. Of course, how were we to know? She leveled a block…”

He leans against his chair, a soft chuckle lighting up his face. “I digress. When I created you, I put some of myself into how you connected with everything. You were not just made of psionic DNA and some alien metal. You were created because I wanted you to be. With everything that I am, I wanted you to live. I used my own DNA sample and infused every connection in you with life. I healed all the passages in you that were left raw and figuratively bleeding in the others.”

This time he sits heavily on the seat. His age has never been as obvious as it has since the fighting began. “If only I had not left the instructions. If only I had taken you with me.” Mathur looks up and smiles tiredly. “But I did neither of those, and now we have to fix this.”

Dom isn’t entirely certain what to say or if he should say anything. There’s far too much emotion in Mathur’s voice for him to deal with.

It’s like the old man can read his thoughts. He reaches up and pats Dom’s hand. “I do not expect you to understand, though. I always thought you would be far different than you are now. Not that we ever could have thought of the personality that would emerge in a human-adrium hybrid. For what it is worth, Dom, you have made an old man proud.”

“Thank you.” It seems appropriate, but Dom still feels marginally uncomfortable. “Sai seems to think there’s a way we can fix them.”

Mathur nods, his hands sorting all of his tools back into their places against the wall. “That girl is determined to find a way to fix everyone and everything.”

“And if there isn’t, she’ll barrel on ahead and find one.” Dom smiles at the thought, though worry nags at the back of his mind.

Mathur clears his throat and hesitates a moment. “She is a special girl, Dom. You should keep her safe.”

“I plan to. I’m never going to put her in that much danger again. I owe her—”

But Mathur interrupts. “Do not owe her. Owing is never something you should build a relationship on.”

Dom laughs. “We don’t have a relationship.” But even as he says the words, he knows they’re wrong. “We don’t have that sort of relationship,” he amends.

Mathur smiles. “Perhaps not, but you have an amazing bond and synchronicity. Do not ruin it by trying to change it in any way. Let what you have be because it works for both your needs.”

“Cryptic.” Dom nods and re-crosses his arms as Thirty-Five starts to stir.

Mathur taps the domino on the arm and elicits an almost immediate response. “How are you feeling?”

The domino moves its head from side to side and stretches its arms out. “Better. Not so…off.”

Dom cringes as the metallic clang resonates through the room. He nods at Mathur and leaves, hoping the man will figure out a way to make that noise more like a real voice.

Ever since Sai received the dream-message that ended with Dom rushing through the bowels of Alpha, Dom is extra-careful. He makes his way through the practically deserted hallways toward the maintenance levels in order to check on sensitive areas. Those areas someone might sabotage. They can’t afford the Damascus tracking their fleet. If they fulfill their mission and wipe out the Exiled, the people of the GNW Protected Conglomerate are doomed.

He’s not found anything since the initial one, and he knows the odds of finding something are very low considering they’re back in the middle of nowhere and haven’t had any attacks on Alpha since. Still, he feels a need to be cautious, just in case.

The wheel wells are safe and free from tampering. In fact, the motor side of the Mobile is perfectly maintained. Other repairs might utilize used parts, but the engines are of paramount importance. Sometimes he has a strange feeling in his gut when he’s finished with one of his inspections. Maybe it’s relief at finding everything in order, but sometimes he could swear he wanted to find something wrong. Because something wrong would mean the need to spring into action. Sitting around allows too many quiet moments when the darkness starts weaving itself back into his thoughts. Poisoning his decisions.

The sheer inaction of waiting for Kayde to get Ebony ready for distribution grates on Dom’s nerves. He’s been over all the routes to the detainment cells in Central in his head, and he knows he can’t possibly help Bastian, but sitting around and waiting isn’t helping keep the parasite at bay either. It nags and pushes him, trying to worm its way in through his impatience. When it comes down to it, Dom’s guilt at not having prepared for an ambush on Bastian weighs on him.

Dom could definitely make his way into the compound and work his way through the facility and probably get right next to Bastian. But with the amount of security that closed around his friend when he was captured? There’s no way he could get them both out of there alive.

Dom sighs and scuffs his foot against the floor as he heads back to the lab. This lack of freedom, of forward momentum, is eating at him.

“Dom?”

Sai’s voice startles him, and for a split second he loses control of the human visage he maintains so easily. Just a little, enough to sharpen the contours of his body and face. But she doesn’t seem fazed. She never does.

“Sai.” He nods at her and continues to walk. “Were you looking for me?”

She glances around her, cheeks flushed. “I was. It’s just…” She bites her bottom lip, the way she always does when something is troubling her. A strand of her black hair is twisted around one of her fingers, and she tugs gently against her head as if unaware of it at all.

“Training room?” he asks her, pausing. It’s not like he can do much to help with the others while Mathur is using his healing anyway. Harassing Kayde for a timeline will just irritate the scientist.

Sai grins, and her shoulders move that tiny bit, like they do every time she feels relief. Sometimes, like now, her brow will stay scrunched up in thought as she tries to sort through her overactive brain. Dom leads the way in silence, knowing she’ll speak when they get there. He wonders if she knows just how much she holds him together.

“Well?” he asks, taking up his habitual pose against a wall, one leg bent so his foot rests against it. One of the students once whispered that he stood that way to be cool. He knows because he overheard it, like he overhears a lot of things people don’t realize—things they say out loud as well as in their heads. In truth, it’s his favorite position because it gives him leverage to phase, spring into action, or kick by angling off the wall. But others don’t need to know that. He’s fairly sure Sai would understand his reasoning, and after all, that’s all that really matters to him.

For others, he doesn’t mind appearing to be “cool.”

“I was thinking.”

“Which you seem to do fairly often.” She blushes and looks away. His tendency to quip at people is a bad habit courtesy of Bastian. Dom makes a mental note to tone it down…again. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m just being sensitive.” She smiles, making her whole face light up. “Anyway, when you saved me and tapped into my own healing, you gave me this edge of power. Mathur’s prosthetic never needed the precision healing that my graft has.” She takes a breath, and he can almost see the thoughts linking together as she gathers them. “My synaptic connections, the joints where the adrium melds into me, weren’t only encouraged by my surgeon, but by myself—frequently. And your boost, this ability you have to add psionic strength to mine, to magnify it…we have to be able to use that, right?”

Dom nods slowly. “Do you mean linking the other dominos with healers as a sort of battery?”

“Kind of?” She scrunches her face up in thought, and Dom fights the impulse to laugh at how it distorts her expression. “More like—if you can bolster healing, can’t you bolster other psionic energies?”

Dom runs the idea through his mind. Hasn’t his own ability to self-heal been slightly enhanced since he combined wills with Sai to save her? Perhaps. It’s a solid idea. A good one.

He realizes he’s been mulling this over a little too long, from the way the hesitance lingers in her eyes. So he smiles in an attempt to soften the wait. “Sorry. This time I was thinking. It makes sense to start with what we know.”

“What we…” Sai smiles, full force again. It’s not a whimsical smile, but more of a spring-into-action expression. “You mean help Mathur direct the dominos’ abilities inward because you can keep yourself intact.” She starts moving toward the labs, and he falls into step with her.

Dom nods, glad they figured out what was missing. While he can heal himself to a certain extent, he can’t heal others without access to their own abilities. Why should Mathur be doing all the work if the dominos can help?

“You ready?” She’s watching him, her eyes intense, like she’s trying to see through him. Her concern for him as a person has always been refreshing.

He nods. “I’m just thinking over any other applications for this. It has to have endless possibilities.”

She frowns this time. “I’m not sure—there could be snags we run into. They may not be able to do what you can do.” She steps into the lab, Dom following her closely. “After all you’re…unique.” The grin is sweet, a wistful tone to her voice.

Dom smiles in return and is about to speak when Mathur does instead.

“What is it they may not be able to do?” The old man doesn’t look up from the table where he works, but the inflection makes it clear he could hear them long before they entered the room.

“Link and help boost psionic power.” Dom positions himself in sight of the main entrance to the room, eyes flitting between the occupants and the door.

Mathur raises an eyebrow. “Link? Like how you did with Sai when she was injured?”

Sai nods, her smile spreading, reaching her eyes. Her enthusiasm is catching. “If Dom could act as a battery for me, what’s to say they can’t? What’s to say that they can’t heal or at least help heal themselves even to the small amount Dom can without someone to guide them? It would be much faster for you.”

Dom watches his maker, still fiddling with something he can’t see, and moves closer to watch. While actually being a domino makes him an expert in some of the ways they function, it doesn’t give him any insight into how these are different, how they were created. He may understand the concept, but not the practice.

Mathur straightens and Thirty-Five blinks as it sits up, focusing on each of the room’s occupants in turn. The eyes flicker through a rainbow of colors for a moment, a slight hum whirring with them until they stop on a strange sort of silver with an underlying blue hue. Dom watches, wondering if his own have a backing color or not.

“I was originally not aware of Dom’s ability to help you. It was not specifically built into his makeup, but that does not mean it is not there.” Mathur pauses and watches Thirty-Five for a short time before continuing. “I cannot be certain that this capability is also built into the others. They did not follow my design correctly, and the melding of the human and alien halves is not as seamless as with Dom.”

“But there’s a chance?” Sai pushes the point, her smile gone.

“There is always a chance, Sai.” Mathur’s gaze bores into Sai, and Dom wonders what he’s missing out of this conversation.

She relaxes. “Then we try—or you do. It has to be you, Dom. I may have thought of this, but the initial instruction has to be you.”

“If they cannot access the same healing channels as Dom, it will be moot.”

Sai nods. “I have training to get to. Let me know how it goes?”

Mathur focuses on her for a moment. “Of course.” As she leaves the room, he turns to Dom. “Then we try.” The scientist looks around and motions Dom to the far end. “You take Twenty-Seven. I still have work to do with Thirty-Five.” Dom hesitates but moves where he is told. While he distinctly remembers connecting with Sai after her accident, and accessing his own healing centers before that, he’s hesitant to try it in a foreign mind.

Twenty-Seven sits on a gurney, back straight, legs switching through several different adjustments. Its eyes focus on Dom, such a pale silver that they’re almost clear, and he clears his throat. “You doing okay?

Twenty-Seven blinks, mimicking the human action with perfection. “I am…doing well.” Its voice doesn’t grate as much as Thirty-Five’s. There are human qualities enhanced by alien overtones. It’s really quite melodic.

Dom nods and takes Twenty-Seven’s hands in his own. “Close your eyes and empty your mind,” he murmurs and does the same himself. It’s easier to just show them instead of instructing them—to lead by example. Until now, that human adage has never made complete sense to Dom.

Twenty-Seven’s mind is sharp. It’s immediately obvious to Dom that its slowness of speech doesn’t come from a dull mind, but from a lack of interaction with people who talk to it as a person. Which would include Dom. He cringes momentarily before concentrating on the task at hand.

Taking his cue from Sai’s mind, Dom begins to show his pupil how to center its mind. All dominos can do it as a reflex, but in order to see if it can access the same minute healing ability that Dom has, it needs to be deliberate so he can help direct it.

Twenty-Seven follows directions well, mimicking what Dom demonstrates, right down to the dissembling of the intricate walls that make up a domino mind, an inbuilt psionic protection. Dom examines it for his own reasons as he teaches his sibling. Because the construction is slightly different, maybe there’s something he can learn for himself to help keep the parasite out of his mind.

Twenty-Seven grasps the concepts easily and is reinforcing and adjusting its own wards in minutes. Dom takes pain-staking measures to make sure the domino knows where its alien DNA melds with its human side.

He frowns as he realizes their center is a bit off; it’s not exactly where Dom’s is. The healing point is slightly removed, in a more out-of-the-way place, and Dom slows his instruction to get a handle on how to approach it.

There’s this raw splotch sort of off to the left side of Twenty-Seven’s mind. It’s larger than Dom’s own healing center and seems to be bleeding out in a way familiar to how the parasite works. Even as he gathers his will to show Twenty-Seven just how to go about pulling it back, healing the surrounding area and clearing its mind, it strikes Dom as how dangerous being a domino is without knowing to use their healing ability.

And then it dawns on him. He shows his student how to properly infuse a trickle of psionic healing power in his genetic makeup to keep the parasite at bay and build its own human-alien connections.

“I think…” he says softly, “I believe that the only thing holding the parasite at bay is the innate healing from the psionic DNA you chose to create in us, Mathur.”

He can feel the heat of Mathur’s gaze on him. “That is what changed things? The strain of DNA?”

Dom nods ever so slightly, most of his attention still intent on guiding his pupil through the rest of the parasite clean-up. He can feel the resistance from the alien portion even through the connection. It sends a shiver through him.

He withdraws from Twenty-Seven’s head and, still holding its hand, waits for it to come out of the light trance. Those clear silver eyes blink at him, recognition and thanks expressed clearly. “Thank you.”

Dom shakes his head. “It’s partially our fault this happened. You’re all…” He pauses. “We’re all in this together.” Dom doesn’t try to smile. From people’s reactions, he hasn’t quite got it right yet, and this sense of camaraderie he suddenly feels for his siblings is something he doesn’t want to spoil.

Twenty-Seven studies him for a few seconds before nodding slowly. “We are. We all are. I can show someone now. We should be able to…” It pauses for a second, as if searching for how to phrase what it wants to say. “To…expedite the process.”

The offer isn’t a strange one in the least. A bit younger, slightly less refined, but they’re essentially what Dom is. It’s mildly disturbing, but he’s not sure when the GNW stopped attributing them sentience. “Excellent. Next one for you, and next one for me. Once everyone understands how the process works, you have a lot of intensive self-healing to follow through on. Adrium makes us strong, but in this case it is our biggest weakness if left unchecked.”

Twenty-Seven nods and attempts a smile that Dom finds far more friendly than his own. “It was consuming us.”

Dom nods, disliking the suddenly heavy ringing in his head, as if his own parasite heard and wants to talk about it.

The sooner Mason’s salvage team returns, the sooner he can grab Sai and begin the Ebony distribution.

The day stretches on. Probably because they haven’t stopped in so many hours, he’s lost track of it. It’s not like Dom needs sleep, but a break every now and again to get his bearings is always a good thing. They don’t have the time for it. Twenty-Seven has already guided several dominos through the process, as has Dom. Those who’ve been guided don’t always have the confidence to show others, but they stand close by to help just in case.

Sai has been working non-stop since she came back from her training group. Already tired when she arrived, Dom keeps an eye on her out of habit. She seems worn, but determined, as usual.

For his own part, Dom has had several difficult cases. The parasite leaches differently in each of the dominos. So far, not one has been too far gone—barely. Sixty-Three was a close call, but with some rest and several more assisted sessions, it should be fine in the long run.

Dom never realized quite how extreme the case of the parasite in the adrium was. His own healing was mostly automatic until the failed wipe the GNW performed last time. The speed with which the parasite attacked him was painful and difficult to control, but it seems that same wipe affected all of his siblings as well. Only they didn’t know how to deal with it or even what it was.

Forty-Three is his last patient, and an oddly heavy sensation settles in Dom’s stomach as he finishes up. Time weighs on him, but if they don’t get this done, they lose their best shot at beating the Damascus. He withdraws after being certain his pupil has the process under wraps and glances over at Sai.

Hip jutted out to brace herself against the steel table in front of her, she looks like she’s only still awake through sheer willpower.

They’re done. All forty-eight of the remaining dominos understand how to reach inside themselves and heal the pathways left by the internal parasite trying to worm its way into control. Even Marlene came in for a period of time. The trickle of power that she has is almost insignificant, but learning some techniques has helped her aide Jeffries.

He watches Sai, the stubborn set of her jaw, the hair that’s come out of the ponytail she usually wears, the barely visible line of shorter hair from her own synaptic reinforcement. Her determination helps feed him better than any parasite could hope. She’s the reason he’s become so human, and so she’s the reason he has to stay that way.

Finally, she’s done and reaches out a hand to steady herself. He makes it to her side in three purposeful strides. “Enough,” he whispers in her ear as he reaches down to scoop her up. She’s not a cooperative person by nature, but being caught by surprise gives him some advantage. Plus, sometimes he likes to imagine she likes it if he carries her. Just him.

“You should have been in bed hours ago.” He speaks softly, and she rests against his chest. It feels good to carry her warmth with him, to hold someone so tangible.

“Sorry,” she whispers so softly no one but a domino would have heard.

“For?”

“Making you worry. Again.” She chuckles, like she always does when she’s over-tired—like a lot of humans seem to when they’re exhausted.

“We leave at dusk. The Ebony will be ready later today.” He keeps his answers short. It’s so easy to talk to her, to talk about her. His reserves are running so low he finds himself watching what he says.

“Will Mason be back soon? I’m worried about him. Aishke desperately wants to talk to him.” Her fingers brush Dom’s chest, tapping out a beat he doesn’t know the source of. It tickles slightly, the warm brush of her skin against his adrium.

“It’s almost dawn. As far as I know, they were on their way back at midnight.” He keeps his voice calm, his own feelings well under wraps.

“Good.” She yawns, her eyes bleary. “Thank you, Dom.”

“Stop that. There’s nothing to thank me for.” There’s a bitterness he can’t quite keep from his tone every time he looks at her legs. That parasite causing the dominos so much trouble is in her bloodstream, too.

“Always…thank you.” Her voice trails off as she leans against him, ponytail trailing over his arm.

Dom frowns as they near her apartment and pushes open the door, trying not to wake her now she’s fallen asleep. Aishke is awake, eating breakfast. She smiles as he walks in.

“You shouldn’t keep her out past her bedtime.” Her voice is soft and there’s a hint of a smile at the corner of her lips, but she gets up and helps him tuck her into bed. “She okay?”

Dom nods. “Pushed herself too far.”

“Again. Regardless of how far she builds up her endurance, she always pushes herself further.” They watch Sai sleep steadily for a moment. “I don’t know what she’d do without you watching over her the way you do. Sometimes I think she relies on you too much…like I rely on her.” She stops and turns, her strange eyes piercing. “Who do you rely on, Dom?”

He laughs. It’s a harsh sound even to his ears. “Myself, Ash.” He steps away from the bed and toward the exit, not wanting the conversation to start up again. “Mason will be back soon. He’ll report to the navigation deck immediately if you’re wanting to see him.”

He leaves the apartment, determined to check on Mathur. The man has a tendency not to take care of himself. Dom focuses on making it there as soon as possible instead of on Ash’s question.

Mathur stands in the back corner of his lab, a tiny blowtorch in one hand and a soldering wire in the other while he works on the pulse device. Dom leans against the doorframe, frowning. He can tell by the way Mathur’s hands need to steady the tools that the man is running on empty. On a normal day, his psionics are precise enough that he’d never touch the tools.

Just as Dom opens his mouth to speak, he sees Mathur’s right hand shake. The thin beam of fire displaces itself momentarily before he snaps the command back and leaves it useless.

But it’s long enough to send a small spiral of smoke up from the device.

“Are you okay?” Dom takes three strides to stand next to Mathur, whose mouth is hanging open. His eyes are bloodshot, bleary, and there are tears welling in them, if only for a moment.

“No.” Mathur sits down heavily on his seat, the soldering wire clattering to the floor. The man practically crumples in on himself, deflated. “This is not okay.”

Dom glances at the device and back to his creator. “You or this?”

“Both.” His skin pales another shade, and he leans against the wall, eyes cast to the ceiling.

“Mathur, please. Tell me what I need to do to help?”

“Look at it.” The old man says without making eye contact.

And so Dom does. All of the intricate wirings, the circuitry and connections—and then he sees it. There, nestled in its crowning spot, the kernel is a flame-scarred, charred mess.

Mathur sighs, a sound of melancholy Dom has rarely heard. “There is no way to get it finished now.”

Dom stands in the docking bay as they slow down to take on the returning Mobiles, trying to figure out how to break it to the rest of the team that they no longer have a pulse device. He’s going to have to travel to Central and try and locate another lieutenant that’s been separated from its squad. Taking down a full patrol is tantamount to suicide. And they have to get a kernel back.

A few of James’ teams burst into activity. Three men arm themselves, training the red sights of their crossbows onto the hull of the non-Alpha transport being loaded back onto the craft under James’ guidance. Others man the manual winches should the automatic ones fail.

Mason steps out of the vehicle, blood spattering his long coat in a sheen of dried bronzed gore. His gaunt face makes him look like the walking dead himself, but the anger in his eyes gives new life to his failing body. He motions to one of the others to clear out the transport and steps over to join Dom as they survey the incoming survivors.

“That bad?” Dom asks as Mason peels gloves off his hands with a squelch. Underneath the black material, his hands are stained red, even up under the fingernails, wedged in there, semi-permanent.

“Worse.” Mason shakes his head and coughs. It’s a hacking cough, like part of his lungs might rise up to choke him. But Dom knows that isn’t what’s making him sick; he can feel it, hear it. His psionics are burning him out, threatening to tear him apart from overuse. Dom doesn’t know how else to comfort his friend, so he listens to him talk instead.

“The only reason we have any survivors is that the victims played dead, and the Damascus were too cocky to think they’d survived.” Mason laughs, as if laughing is better than crying for now, as if the hitch in his throat is his cough and not unshed tears. “They hit Ksi with everything, Dom. From the few accounts we received, there were a dozen patrols. Almost a hundred Damascus.”

“Did they take any down?”

The expression on Mason’s face makes Dom want to retract the question, but he knows that’s not possible. As much as it might hurt, Mason needs to recount the events so they can judge how much they’re diminished in ranks and what they can do with any information gained. “Mason.” Dom’s tone is harsher this time. “Did they take any down?”

Mason scowls before sighing with resignation. “They managed three full patrols. Several separate soldiers and about seven Hounds in total. They put a dent in their forces, but what with Owen’s experimentation, it will be meaningless.” The determination fades slightly, revealing how wilted he has become. “How are things here?”

Dom hesitates, unsure how to deliver the bad news. “There’s been a problem with the pulse device.”

Mason raises an eyebrow. “Problem?”

“The kernel is damaged beyond repair, as is most of the device’s circuit board. It won’t be ready anywhere near when we need it.”

Instead of a wave of disappointment, Mason pats a pouch hanging from his waist and smiles grimly. “We have another intact kernel for Mathur. Will that help the timeline any?”

Dom eyes the pouch, not quite willing to believe they could have such luck. Although, it’s just one component. “It’ll speed it up a few days, but…”

“The whole thing is fried?” Mason’s tone holds an edge of disbelief and his shoulders sag.

“Not completely, but about three-quarters of it will need to be rebuilt. He was so close.” Dom can still see the shock and frustration in Mathur’s face as it happened.

“We will figure it out.” Mason sounds so confident and he squares his jaw. “Everything else?”

Dom blinks at the change of topic. “We finally have progress with the dominos’ recovery. They’re pretty much fixing themselves, thanks to Sai.”

Both men stand in silence, surveying the scene before them. It’s plain to Dom that there are less of their trained soldiers returning than left on this mission. Several people are gently placed on gurneys under Marlene’s pale-faced but stern supervision. One man’s tattered leg looks like it went through a meat grinder. Mason retches and turns his head away. Dom watches Marlene give the man a sedative and rush him along.

Humanity can be so ugly. Dom shakes his head and glances back at Mason.

Mason runs a hand through grimy hair. “That girl will either save us—or kill us all. I’m hoping whichever one it is, it’s appropriate for the situation.”

Dom isn’t sure how to respond, but standing there seems to be enough to encourage Mason to continue.

“Not many of us in command have anything to lose, Dom. We gave up our families, our history, and any sort of claim to a normal life to lead the Exiled back to their rightful homes in the Protected Conglomerate. People should be free to be themselves, even if it’s not the ideal of the people in power.”

Dom just nods, knowing far too well what it feels like to be other.

Mason grins, but it’s not a happy expression. It’s bitter and lost. “We just need the world back—before the government commissioned the Damascus, before the GNW took control of our thoughts.”

“The whole world has changed, though, Mason. Atmospheric changes, meteor showers… You can’t compare.”

“Yes, I can. All of us can.” His words are snapped, heated.

Dom takes a long look at him. “With that world, I wouldn’t exist.”

Mason blinks. “I didn’t mean…”

“I know you didn’t. I’m just saying that we have what we have now and we will deal with it.” Dom tries to keep his voice calm and thinks he succeeds from the expression on Mason’s face.

“True.” He glances at the muck from his hair mingling with the blood on his hands and sighs again, his tone almost wistful. “No time for a shower?”

Dom shakes his head. “Briefing first and let Mathur know we have a kernel. Then, shower. Then, talk to Aishke.”

His brows pinch. “Talk to Aishke? Is she okay?”

“Sai said she needs to see you.”

Mason tsks. “She worries about me. It makes me feel old.”

Dom nods. “You’re even older than me.”

“Technically.”

“No, not technically. Literally.”

Mason stops in the middle of the hall, hands on his hips. “Are all the dominos going to turn out like you?”

Dom thinks back to his conversation with Twenty-Seven and the slowly awakening personalities of all of his siblings and grins. “Yes, I think they are.”

Aishke attends the meeting to fill in for Sai, but Dom thinks she probably wanted to check on Mason, too. He scans for Sai, but she’s still asleep, her regulated brainwaves steady and peaceful, for once. So he stands and waits as Mason ushers in a few people and moves into the center of the room.

A small, wiry young man with dirty blond hair stands with him, a cap clutched in his fingers. His eyes dart constantly to Mason, as if seeking reassurance that the man won’t disappear.

“It’s okay, Lorn, you can speak. Just tell them what you all told me, and you can go have dinner, a good steam shower, and lie down in safety to sleep. I envy you. It’s what I’d love to be doing right now.” Lorn visibly relaxes, and Mason’s smile puts the entire room at ease. Even as sick as he is, he still puts others first. It’s just one of the things Mason is good with—people.

Lorn takes the chair offered, his green eyes bright with adrenaline and lack of sleep. There’s a slight twitch to the side of his face where something obviously smashed into him, if the beginning of the blood bruise is anything to go by. He collects himself and speaks, voice shaking just a bit.

“The alarm only gave us about ten minutes’ notice. The sensors don’t pick them up as well as they do other stuff. We got an old batch. I heard Nathan say so. He told us if they’re an older batch, any organic matter has decayed to such an extent it’s no longer readable.

“We grabbed our weapons and sent those incapable of fighting into hiding.” He pales for a moment before taking a deep breath and continuing. “There were just so many of them. Wave after wave of patrols. Hounds ripped my little brother apart…” He bites his lip and wipes harshly at the tears running down his good cheek, smearing blood and dirt on his face as he does. “Hounds ripped a lot of people apart before we realized they were the easiest target. Pick them off, and it disorients the lieutenant just long enough.

“I think we got four of them. The lieutenants, that is. Four full patrols, about a dozen of those damned dogs, and another fifteen or so soldiers. We might have taken down about thirty-five of them, not including Hounds, but there were at least a hundred. Two dozen, Nathan said.”

“Two dozen patrols?” Dom needs the clarification, not for himself, but for the disbelief in the eyes of everyone else in the room. Except Mason—his eyes are hard.

“Two dozen patrols, give or take. We took out half of their mutts.” There’s a tinge of pride in Lorn’s voice, barely audible through his grief. “I fought so hard…” His voice drops a notch. “I wasn’t playing dead. I truly wasn’t.” He rings the cap in his hands, knuckles white. “I got smashed in the face by one of the lieutenants. I tried to duck but wasn’t fast enough…” He shrugs, obviously uncomfortable. “But when I woke up, it was all over. It was burning and almost everyone was dead. Finding shelter was the only thing I could think of.” The tears start to flow, and this time he doesn’t make the effort to wipe them away. “I’m not a coward. I swear I’m not a coward.”

It’s that moment which makes Dom realize just how vital Sai is to everything. Aishke is a lovely girl, but her compassion is reserved for those she knows and trusts. Even though Sai trusts few, she feels the weight of everyone on her shoulders. If she were here, she would comfort him.

Before he can second guess himself, Dom takes a step forward and places his hand gently on Lorn’s shoulder. “You did well. You’re not a coward. A hit like that is something even I’d feel. We should check for a fracture.”

Lorn looks up at him out of bleary eyes, obviously only just registering what Dom is. For a moment, he seems confused. Probably by the expectations of what a domino is supposed to be, especially in the wake of the Damascus reactivation. But the confusion is replaced by gratitude. “Thank you.”

Dom nods. “No, thank you. You are the reason we know the size of the force they’re currently moving with. And you are the reason we know to distract the lieutenants with the Hounds’ death. Put that all aside and you are the reason we send out our patrols to see if we can rescue anyone or anything. Because all of us matter.”

Lorn nods, his tears nothing but a memory of dirty streaks down his face. Jeffries ushers him away.

Mason pats Dom on the back. “You’ve been taking lessons from Sai.”

Dom grunts, feeling oddly conflicted by having practically impersonated her.

Mason laughs. “Don’t worry, my friend, we’ll make you human yet.”

Something snaps in Dom’s tolerance levels and he scowls, barely able to clamp down on the coiling rise of the parasite at his anger. “No, thank you. We can’t afford for me to be weak.”

His friend takes a step back, surprise on his face.

“Your daughter needs to speak to you,” Dom says before stiffly walking out.

Unsure why he’s suddenly so irritated, Dom doesn’t stay outside the meeting room for long. He isn’t needed to decide which families should go where. It’s not his area of expertise.

Instead he cricks his neck and allows himself to blend for a few moments, to be himself. He moves easily, through the halls, along the walls, taking care to match the uneven paneling that seems to be increasing in frequency as he makes his way to Kayde’s lab to check on Ebony’s progression.

Letting himself meld, utilizing his abilities, has a calming effect on him, despite the nagging shadows at the edges of his vision. He sighs and shimmers back to himself as he approaches the lab. It’s his favorite place to go when frustrated, but he hesitates before poking his head around the door.

Kayde is nowhere to be seen. Twenty-Seven sits on one of the stools in front of a bench. Its bald head favors no hair, and its sleek form is only modeled vaguely after human form, leaving little to identify it as such. It smiles, an eerily human gesture considering how difficult it was the previous evening. “Dom.”

“Hey.” For some reason calling the domino by its number just feels wrong. And he hesitates as he walks into the room, now cautious.

“Kayde will be back shortly. I have a favor to ask of you.” The more Twenty-Seven speaks, the less its voice sounds foreign. It’s got a lilting human quality to it, much like Mathur’s.

“Speak away.” There’s almost nothing Dom wouldn’t do for them—almost. In a way, he feels like they’re his responsibility.

“We do not want our numbers to define us. We are…growing into individuals. There is no one—we are all separate. Do you understand?” Again, those hypnotic eyes fixate, studying Dom’s every move. It watches him, follows him, studies him.

Dom nods slowly. “You want names?”

Twenty-Seven nods eagerly. “We would like to pick our own. We have access to the databases—it is not like we do not have an imagination.”

“No…” Dom pauses, thinking. His feeling of dread dissipates. “I suppose it isn’t.”

“See.”

Dom shakes his head. “See what?”

“Did you always use contractions?”

“No, I learned.”

“Exactly,” Twenty-Seven continues. “Did you always have a real voice—not an echo in your head, not a strange and foreign sound that makes people cringe when they hear it?”

“No, I developed.” Dom understands the train of thought better now, irritated at being slow to catch on.

“Exactly. The communication channel they forced into all of us was unnecessary. We only need psionics to communicate amongst ourselves if we choose. What they did stunted our growth. We wish to evolve, to be more than they intended us to be.” It pauses, focusing its pale gaze on him. “To be like you.”

Dom laughs. “Like me?”

Twenty-Seven nods.

Dom suddenly feels a little self-conscious. He’d never intended to be a big brother. “I’m not what you’re making me out to be.”

“You are. You make choices and you are evolving.”

Evolving into what? sits on the tip of Dom’s tongue, but he swallows the obnoxious question and says, “I think you should have names. Twenty-Seven doesn’t…fit.” He smiles and shrugs, unable to explain it fully.

“No, it does not. Would you talk to Mathur and the rest? Ask for us?” Its eyes light up, eagerness awash in a way no human could express.

“They can’t forbid you. You’re not machines. You’re alive and you’re aware.” Twenty-Seven’s expression begins to fall, and Dom adjusts his last statement hurriedly. “But if you really want me to, I’ll ask for you.”

“Thank you.” Twenty-Seven pauses and looks back at the others, all watching the exchange at the door with rapt attention. “Just one other thing…”

“Anything.” And this time, Dom means it.

Twenty-Seven hesitates a moment before speaking, but when it does, it locks its shoulders and jaw in an eerie mimicry of Sai’s determination. “Will you tell them we want to fight?”

“You really want to fight?” Dom watches the reaction, gauging it. While the goal had always been to have the dominos fight for their cause, having them want to fight lends an added strength.

“This is our war, too. What they did to us, what they used us for, what they threatened others with was terrible. We have a choice now. We will take power from those who no longer deserve it.”

The reasoning is so sound, so flawless, that Dom is proud. He smiles. “I’d be honored to tell them that.”

The relief that flushes Twenty-Seven’s face is worth any effort. “Thank you. I have to get back to it. We’re getting closer.” It pauses and smiles, pure joy in its expression. “I am using contractions.”

Dom smiles in return. “You’ll be human before you know it.”

But Twenty-Seven laughs. “I’ll never be human. We never want to be human. We want to be domino.”

Dom sorts through the thoughts in his head as he makes his way to Mathur’s lab. That the other dominos expect him to lead them, that they have such human wants. Sure, he’s adapted over the last almost two decades, but he didn’t realize he’d come so far.

“What is wrong, Dom?” Mathur doesn’t look up from his delicate work. The old device is nowhere to be seen and this one spans two table-tops. Precariously balanced fibers lace the sides of one of the main nodes, waiting for Mathur to direct the solder with his mind. It’s far more delicate to use psionics in place of tools—depending, of course, on one’s psionic abilities.

Dom takes a breath and shakes his head. “They want names.”

“Who is they?” Mathur doesn’t move anything but the string of fiber at his fingertips.

“The other dominos.”

Mathur shrugs ever so slightly. “Makes perfect sense.”

Dom is surprised to find himself agreeing. The more he thinks about it, the more he wonders why he never chose one himself. “Yeah…” He can’t get his eyes off the device. Its base is thicker this time, a good two inches, and the several nodes that Mathur is connecting are bulkier. “Why is it so big this time?”

His father pauses and looks up. “Range. We want it to have a better range.”

“I can’t fit that in Mele. We wouldn’t even get it through the door.” Dom crosses his arms, slightly irritated that they changed it without consulting him. “And won’t this take longer?”

Mathur shakes his head. “We will move Alpha closer when the time comes. It will not take longer, as Kayde will be assisting as soon as Ebony is done. I think one of the dominos is interested in the mechanics, too.”

Dom starts to speak but bites it back. They’re allowed to have interests. “But will it be done in time?”

“I never said that.” The old man smiles sadly. “I can only push harder and hope that we will be ready.”

“Is this wise?”

“There are more Damascus this time. We need a bigger pulse.” Mathur’s gaze turns back to his work, and the soldering starts up again.

There’s silence for several moments as Dom mulls this new plan over in his head.

“What else?” This time the old man stands up straight, stretching his arms out over his head.

This is the part Dom hesitates on. “They want to fight the Damascus. They say this is their fight, too.”

“More rational than expected. But then, you are all a constant source of surprise, are you not?” A smile tugs at Mathur’s lips.

Dom blinks. “Shouldn’t you still be in the meeting?”

Mathur barks a laugh and sits down slightly on a raised stool. “Took you a while. And yes, I should, but it is nothing I have not heard before and frankly this is far more important. So I made a choice—listen to that which I already know or come down here and potentially save lives.”

Dom walks over and stands next to his creator, eyeing the device in all its complexity under the bright lights. “Glad to see you chose the latter.”

“Thought you might see it my way.”

For a few minutes, Dom just watches as Mathur rises again to work. His father’s lips purse as he occasionally closes his eyes to seal yet another fiber together with the rest. Just watching the process gives Dom hope that they may still somehow come through this.

“You did a good job with Lorn, Dom. More human than I think you meant to be.”

“Far more human than I want to be.”

Mathur finally looks up and frowns, putting down his tools carefully so as not to disturb the device. “What is it with this sudden change?”

Dom shrugs. “I’m not sure. These emotions, the complications, the simple act of living and dying—the fragility. So fragile, Mathur… They die so easily.” He sighs. “What’s not to dislike?”

For a few seconds, Mathur watches Dom before shrugging and turning back to his work. “You have a pretty good point.”

The silence stretches uncomfortably this time, only to be broken by Mathur again.

“They want names or to name themselves.”

“Themselves.” Dom isn’t sure it’s the best step, but the stigma of numbers is a GNW designation. Even the parasite seems to respect the decision. It hasn’t reared its head in a while, which makes Dom wary.

“And they wish to fight in this war regardless of anyone’s opinions about their own agenda or reasoning. Would you say that is correct?”

Dom nods and realizes Mathur can’t see the gesture. “Yes, I’d say that’s correct,” he adds for good measure.

“I will bring it to the attention of the others. But I must say they are developing rather nicely. How are their voices?”

Dom laughs. “Getting better. Twenty-Seven…” He still pauses at the number, almost looking forward to having a name to use instead. “Twenty-Seven’s voice is much better.” He pauses again before adding. “You know—I hated being referred to as Twelve. After you, and until I befriended Bastian, I didn’t have a name either. I understand where they’re coming from.”

“Bastian has got a good heart, but his naming techniques are not exactly original.” Mathur chuckles under his breath. “Although I wasn’t much better, eh?”

Dom smiles. “Definitely not.”

Mathur watches him. The reflection from the lights over the device are like sparks in his eyes. “I will take care of things here, but you and Sai need to get ready. I do not think I can stress enough the need for this mission to go off without a hitch.”

“I know.” Dom turns to go and then stops. “She’s asleep. For the first time in far too long, she’s actually sleeping off her exhaustion.”

Mathur straightens and stretches. “Well, then, looks like you will be getting your equipment ready all on your own, doesn’t I?”

“Yeah.” Dom laughs as he leaves the room. “It looks like that.”

The packing wasn’t the hard part. The hard part was waking Sai up to a completely prepared mission and the guilt trip she placed on him for doing everything himself and letting her sleep. She spends the better part of thirty minutes going over the things he packed for her and glaring at him every few seconds.

It’s not really fair to blame her. He should have known better. Her current obsession with keeping everyone safe doesn’t mesh well with someone else taking care of her.

Finally, she sighs and pushes herself up in one fluid motion. Her control over her legs has grown over the last few months, becoming almost seamless.

“I’m done. Just let me grab a shower and we can head out.” She stops just before she ducks out of Mele. “Thanks, Dom. I know I don’t say it enough, but thank you.”

He blinks after her as she disappears from view. Once it’s just them, alone in Mele, he knows it’ll be easier and relaxed, but right now she’s a little tense.

Maybe she’ll talk about Iria, because apart from once at the very beginning, she hasn’t said anything. Perhaps to others, but never to him. He frowns. In an odd way, Dom can’t help but understand. Even just the thought of losing Sai makes the parasite slink closer. Life without her would make him so much different.

Aishke, Mathur, Mason, Kayde, and even Twenty-Seven and Thirty-Five are there to see them off. There’s something different about the dominos—something good. He can sense it in the slight hum they output. Maybe it’ll be enough after all.

He stands by and readies Mele as Sai bids her farewells, hating the finality to some of the conversations. Like they won’t see them again.

“Remember, Dom,” Kayde calls out just before the doors close. “That stuff is volatile. Don’t drop it.”

Dom scowls at the viewscreen as the transport is lowered. He sets the engines and ignores Sai as she settles into the passenger seat and buckles herself in. If he forgets the death toll and the fact there’s really no way out of this situation, it almost feels like the old days—where Bastian was still safe, where Sai was just learning and depending on him, and where Dom was oblivious to all the things he should have known about himself.

It’s a damn good thing things aren’t like they were.

Sai’s hand rests on his arm as they pull off the lowered platform. “We’ll get him back, Dom. We just have to do this first.”

Dom nods, happy in the knowledge he was right. When he’s alone with Sai, everything is perfect.

Bastian refuses to show any outward sign of his discomfort, even when the chafing on his wrists turns into wounds. This is the time when all his lack of emotion, of digging down deep to appear aloof, is going to stand him in good stead. As long as he ignores the pit of dread forming in his gut.

The first couple of nights they had him, they sedated him. His brain is a hazy recollection of several beatings and a distinctly uncomfortable bench that someone strapped him to in order to hang him upside down. The shine they gave him was only the tip of an iceberg. It’s the first time he’s felt truly grateful for forcing the trick onto himself.

Two days ago, they stopped giving him shine and using him as a punching bag. Right now it’s not a problem—there’s still some lingering in his system—but if Zach gets close enough to sense his strength with a clean slate… Bastian doesn’t even want to think about that, because technically, he would still be out of it if his body hadn’t built up a partial immunity to the drug already.

For the last two days he’s been left to his own thoughts and devices, burying all his inner monologues behind so many layers no one but him would know where to look. His body free of Shine is something that hasn’t happened in years; he’s not sure if the slight nausea is anxiety or withdrawal symptoms.

Bastian hears the door open. He maintains an inward focus, eyes closed, hoping he seems groggy, but he glances up when he hears the irritated click of a tongue.

Deign rounds the table, the bags under her eyes a stark contrast to her usual chipper appearance. Bastian obviously hasn’t been the only one suffering—just the only one getting his face involuntarily reconstructed. She takes a seat across from him and tosses a folder onto the table. Her hair wisps down from the bun, not quite as meticulous as usual.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Her voice is soft, almost a whisper.

Bastian is rather certain the mirror behind her is a one-way visual station. The option to try and win her over to his side by overpowering her isn’t actually viable for multiple reasons, including her own formidable abilities. So he opts to shrug and keep his mind closed—tightly. Two days and he’s almost back at full strength. He needs to get his hands on more shine before they realize how far his immunity has spread. If only he can make it back to his office.

“I decided to shut them down before they kill our own people?” Playing it safe is the best option. They have no one else to pin anything on, no one else to speak out against him. Just his own stupid hasty actions. His own ill-conceived plan. Nothing he did can be linked back to the Exiled…yet.

“We had a plan, Bastian.” There’s genuine confusion in her eyes as Deign sits back, shaking her head.

“Zach had a plan. You had a plan. I know what they are capable of. My mother never recovered. Harlow’s parents are dead, not to mention thousands of people who depend on us to protect them.” Each syllable is clipped, perfectly timed, and he realizes he needs to tone it down. He slumps back against the wall and sighs. “They will turn. What will you do when they turn?”

He knows Deign knows he’s right. When they had their little meeting and agreed to reactivate the Damascus, they never once affirmed the need for changes or improvements to them.

“Well, they’re active now.” That her voice is pitched so low tells him there’s at least one lieutenant behind that glass. At least one.

“More than you probably realize.” He pitches his voice as soft as he can, keeping his eyes half-lidded to maintain appearances. “I won’t let these cities go to ruin, Deign. I can’t. You’ll have to kill me first.”

“I know…” She seems conflicted, confused, her fingers picking at each other. Her eyes dart here and there, never settling on him directly. Flummoxed is not a word he’d ever have used to describe her, but it’s fitting now. “We’re not going to kill you. That’s not an option. Misguided though your actions were, you were trying to preserve what we have.”

Bastian is very careful not to breathe a sigh of relief. Instead, he holds perfectly still and waits for her to continue.

“With everything you and your family have done and sacrificed for the GNW, your motivations aren’t in question. Just your actions.”

He times his scowl perfectly.

“Don’t look at me like that, Bastian. My hands are tied. We have to punish you.” She shrugs and picks up the folder. A grimace crosses her face, and she looks up from the report apologetically. “I’m sorry for the drugs, but you’ll need to take more. Are you feeling okay?”

Bastian shrugs. “Hazy.” Because he knows full well that’s what Shine does. “But that could also be from the punches to my face.”

Deign cringes. This isn’t her world and he knows it. She’s used to handing out the orders and never seeing the results. She’s used to having her every whim and desire followed and her government being in perfect order. To the citizens never questioning anything they do. Deign is far too used to her abuse of power. It’s how she was raised, and she’s never once tried to see things from a different perspective. Bastian can’t help but think she deserves the storm that’s coming.

“I’m not sure what we’re going to do with you, but I’m sorry for the harsh treatment.” She rises and pushes back the chair with a squeak that makes her wince. A glance at his still-bound hands makes her gaze harden. She turns and motions to the glass wall, and in short order, two guards enter.

“Untie him. It’s not like he killed anyone.” Deign stays and watches them free him. “Just don’t do anything that’s going to make you appear worse and me stupid. I’ll see what agreement we can come to. But for now, you have to stay here.”

It’s a split second decision, a way to keep himself out of the cells downstairs hooked up to the grid and perhaps still work within his limits. If his access of the core has been any indication, they might still have a chance. Bastian nods. “I won’t be so…spontaneous again.”

Deign manages a tight smile. “See to it. I don’t relish the idea of going through an inquiry myself. This will be your holding cell for the time being. We’re still investigating the incident that led to this.” She slams her hand down on the table, a rare break in her composure. “Damn it, Bastian. If you’d just come to one of us first…”

“But I didn’t.” And he wonders if maybe he should have, under the guise of helping the GNW as a whole. Maybe it would have worked. Maybe the Shine clouded his mind.

“You always were a loner. You’ve always stuck your neck out to protect those you care for.” The smile still plays on her lips as she remembers one specific time. It’s probably what lends to her bias toward him. “But my hands are tied. I can’t magically undo this. You need to pay in some way. Just how remains to be seen.”

Bastian nods and sits on the hard cot in the corner, a feeling of trepidation passing through him. Even though she appears to be on his side, he knows she’s right and doesn’t like it one bit. “Thank you.”

Deign nods and leaves.

With a glance at the fake mirror, knowing his every move is being watched, Bastian throws himself back on the cot and stares at the ceiling. The only thing he has are his thoughts because they’re his and tightly protected. As long as he doesn’t give away anything to those watching him, maybe Deign will get him out of this mess.

The room Bastian is being held in has no windows—just the observation mirror. What better a habitat to study prey in? It’s been several days if the small, bland meals he’s had are any indication, which they’re not. The food is apparently lightly seasoned with Shine because there’s a dull thrum in the back of his head. Just enough to take the edge off both his abilities and the withdrawal headaches. Without his tolerance, though, he’d be foggier. Something to keep in mind when they come in to see him again.

There’s only so much time he can spend on the cot. Rising, he stretches and jumps down to the floor to do a series of push-ups. Stir-crazy isn’t exactly his idea of fun, but he feels like he’s getting there. With nothing to look out at, nothing to read, and only his own thoughts for company? Definitely getting there.

The only possible thing that could give his allegiance to the Exiled away is the passageway in his office. But that’s a room his father showed him as a child, before he passed—a path there’s only a certain way to open. There are only few people who have the psionic imprint down that will let you open it. Other than that, though? He keeps all sensitive information in his head. He’d also given anything he had to Dom the night before they planned this little ditty. Nothing in his actual living quarters gives any hint to his affiliation, and his library is nothing but the best ancient texts dating back to the 1800s.

So if they don’t find the passage, they don’t find anything. None of his comings and goings can be tied to any type of event to support the Exiled, and on top of that, when they invaded, Bastian had been knocked out cold by his own brother, leaving a welt on his face that had taken days to heal.

Instead of climbing the walls in frustration or exploding the room away from the foundation, Bastian sets about working on his fitness. After a few days without drills, they’re definitely necessary. While he does, he tries to work out whatever the hell fever dream made it possible to reach Sai through the wards and grid to warn her. It had been such a desperate attempt. It had taken so much power, and he’d been so hazy and ill-prepared for it. But the connection was definitely there. Her mind was so familiar to him, after the time he’d spent teaching her what to do and how to manipulate her own energies.

Still, though, he was unsure how exactly the core had enhanced his abilities to reach that far. It was a complete fluke, but he hopes to be able to recreate it. Hopes to be able to dip into the clear pool of power in his center again.

Stretching his hamstrings feels like heaven—Bastian wishes it would extend to his mind.

His core is where he went to hide.

It’s where he went when they drugged him. It’s where he went when they used him as their punching bag. And right now it seems the best place for him to retreat to when he needs to think. The body can still do all of the things he instructs it to, but his mind—his mind is safe and protected and more powerful than he ever realized it could be. It lulls him toward it, tempting him to try it out again, to push further with it. He wonders, if he lets it, just how much it could enhance his already formidable reach. Why hide if he can punch through the enemy?

Something about it smacks of danger, addictively so.

A noise outside the door catches his attention and Bastian continues to stretch his muscles out until the lock turns and they walk into the room.

Deign leads the pack, again tired, but this time obviously less stressed. Her shoulders don’t hunch, and a small smile plays at her lips. Zach follows her, a small smirk of his own on his face, which bodes ill for pretty much anyone around him. A Damascus lieutenant follows them, but it’s the same as all the others.

Two more people file into the room, too—Owen and Markus. Bastian picks himself up off the floor, expression stony, and takes his seat in the now overcrowded room.

The others shuffle into chairs, except for the Damascus. It stands next to the mirror, eyes straight ahead. It’s probably recording this for posterity.

Butterflies dance in Bastian’s stomach, and he has to wonder if it’s from nerves—which is completely out of character for him—or the mush that pretended to be food this morning.

“There was nothing incriminating in your quarters,” Zach starts abruptly, the smirk still on his face. “We have come to the conclusion you’re either barking mad—which you’ve proven you’re not—or else you truly thought the Damascus may pose a danger to our people again.” He leans forward and clasps his hands together. “So, Bastian, which was it?”

There’s that crease in Zach’s brow, the one that says he thinks he’s outsmarted everyone. Running the words through his head again, Bastian decides to be at least partially honest. Easier to keep track of lies that way. “The modifications unnerved me. I was worried they’d go into effect and turn the Damascus on us before they’d completed their original mission. Just because they completed it last time doesn’t mean changes won’t hamper that this time. I don’t know how many Exiled there are, but the hundreds of thousands of people we have in each PC are part of my responsibility to educate and protect. I don’t take that lightly, and it appeared to me that everyone else was.”

“See?” Zach sits back, smug expression on his face. “Told you he wasn’t insane. Just egotistical.”

Bastian has the good foresight to react and raise an eyebrow, but says nothing, reminding himself to act a little sluggish. He silences the part of his brain calculating the risk in the room. It knows he could drop Zach and Markus in an instant, and while Deign would be more difficult, she and Owen would quickly follow. Only then he’d be faced with the Damascus. So he waits for the lecture to continue instead.

“The one thing we can’t figure out, Bastian, and I hope you can shed some light on this.” Markus’s voice is soft but authoritative. “There were distractions to get the humans and the Damascus to change their patrol routes. How did you accomplish this alone?”

Bastian laughs. “It’s a parlor trick.” At their disbelieving eyes, he cuts the laughter and leans forward more like his usual. “No, seriously. It would take a lot of preparation and it seriously wears me out, but I’ve always been able project my abilities.”

Zach scowls. “I told you he could do that, Markus. Tormented me with it for years after he awoke.”

Bastian grins tightly. They don’t need to know Dom was helping him even back then. “That’s me.”

Markus frowns and taps his reader. “That was my only concern. I need to modify the sensors.”

“Still, you’re not getting away with it.” Zach’s grin is so sly it’s oily.

Deign glares at him, but smooths her already neat hair back. “I’m not sure you’re going to like your options, Bastian.”

Bastian closes his eyes for a moment to compose himself, trying to push his thoughts to the back of his head, to portray the dulled mind they expect of him on Shine. “Tell me.”

“You will have at least one Damascus lieutenant inside your quarters at all times. His patrol will be stationed outside. No matter where you go, this patrol will follow you. This is non-negotiable.”

She locks her eyes onto his, and for a moment Bastian pales. This is going to make things almost impossible, but he swallows and shrugs, trying to at least appear to take it in stride. “Understandable.”

She holds up a tiny chip, barely visible on her fingertip, and Bastian watches her delicate fingers, wondering why she hasn’t tried to touch him since he was locked up in here. Why hasn’t she tried to access his mind?

“We’re going to have to chip you,” she says apologetically. “As long as you stay within striking distance of your assigned lieutenant, there’ll be no problem. Don’t worry—striking distance is about thirty feet. You don’t need to be on top of him, but you have to be close. This way you can shower and sleep without a shadow.” Her tone is authoritative, but her eyes don’t reflect the tone.

He does his best not to react to Deign’s odd behavior. He’ll have to figure it out at a later date. Bastian nods, realizing why the lieutenant is in the room now. It makes sense. “Okay. This means I can go back to my quarters?”

Zach stands up, arms crossed, and leans a down a little as if inhaling Bastian’s scent. He frowns at him, brow pinched with slight confusion Bastian hopes doesn’t mean he’s figured something out about his dosing. “That chip’s tracking goes through Harlow’s system to Deign and I at all times. We’ll know where you are.”

Bastian nods again, swallowing his irritation. It’s his own fault for not thinking things through, for letting the Shine seep into his system and make him hasty. “Where?”

“Shin.” Owen moves forward and takes the chip from Deign, inserting it into a slim, trigger-powered injection device in his hand.

Bastian cringes inwardly but shows no other sign of his fear of needles. “What else?”

“You will be confined to quarters except for your usual meetings and school rounds and examinations. You will, however, be permitted whatever visitors you would like as long as they pass any screening your guard sees fit to give. Depending on your behavior, we may lift the confinement after a time, but the guard and the chip will stay. Any further signs of insubordination will be dealt with severely.” Deign sounds a little tired, but determined.

“You said there were options.” He has to ask, even though he’s certain of the second option.

Deign shrugs. “You can stay and waste away in this cell. It was a narrow decision not to just hook you up to fuel the grid.” She smiles tightly as Zach glowers, and Bastian has no doubt who that idea came from. He needs to tread carefully around his childhood frenemy.

She waits briefly as it sinks in, and then continues. “You should take this option, Bastian. There is no better way out.”

“I know.” And he does. He is fully aware that the only thing allowing him the first option is his long history with the director and Zach, even if the latter seems to be turning on him. There’s only one problem, and that is Shine. He hopes what he has hidden away will tide him over long enough for the Exiled to end this.

“I’ll take the first offer. I’ve always liked my job.”

Deign smiles and breathes a sigh of relief. “That’s good. I was sure you would.” She grabs the reader she brought in with her. “There’s going to be blood. You’ll excuse me if I don’t stay.”

Zach moves to open the door for her. “Enjoy your entourage, Bastian. No second chances.”

Owen crouches down as they leave and lifts Bastian’s pant leg. “You’re lucky I talked them into this option. They wanted to inject your bloodstream with traceable microbes. You can never get rid of those.”

The pain that shoots through his body momentarily distracts Bastian from what Owen said, but the words linger in his ears. “You want this to be removable.”

Owen watches him for a moment and shrugs. “Not everything should be permanent. Not everything is.”

Bastian blinks at the man, wondering what his story is. He’s the only person on the board who is somewhat of an enigma. “Nothing is ever permanent.”

He’s not sure what he’s expecting, but Owen gives him a tight smile before he stands back up and motions to the lieutenant. “You understand this task is so the main directive can be completed?”

It nods, a soft hydraulic hiss echoing the movement, and its voice grates out, “Understood.”

“This is your guard. His patrol is outside. Try and work with them.” This Owen is different from the one in the meetings, the one fumbling over his words as he tries to explain complex scientific theory to people. Bastian revises his estimation of the man. He’s intelligent, and for a just a second Bastian wonders where his true motives lie.

“I go and they follow?” Bastian asks, testing his leg and grimacing at the pain that shoots up it, wishing for some of his harming ability to give over to healing.

“Straight to your quarters. Deign is arranging your schedule. You’ll have it tonight. You might want to shower.” Owen crinkles his nose up in distaste.

Bastian grins. “Benefits of none in here.” Just as Owen goes to leave, Bastian clears his throat, stopping the man. “Thank you.” He’s not sure why the new Domino Project leader cut him a break, but he wants to make sure the man knows he appreciates it.

“Naturally,” is all Owen says before he leaves.

Bastian watches him go, feeling the weight of the lieutenant on him as he does. It’s time to plan things. First, he’ll get clean, then he’ll have some recognizable food…and then, he’ll figure out what the hell he’s going to do.

He didn’t realize a bed could make such a difference in his sleep. Well-rested for the first time in a while, he punches in the codes on his shower. Steam cuts through the last of the grime and leaves him feeling more refreshed than when he got to his rooms last night. He knows there’s a lieutenant just outside his bedroom. His quarters are large, and thirty feet isn’t that far.

Clothed and clean for the first time in days, he grabs a nutrition bar in a grey packet and eyes it moodily. No time to cook something this morning. The schedule is sitting on his desk. He lifts it up and frowns—Janni and her class first and then a meeting.

Entering the board meeting after visiting Janni’s classroom washes the breath of fresh air away. There’s a tension in the air he has to climb through to get to his seat, and the distinct lack of eye contact leaves him uneasy. Except for Harlow. She meets his gaze briefly, her implants whirring through blues and greens before focusing back on her ever-present tablet.

The first piece of news to be discussed tests Bastian’s acting ability.

“The troops of Damascus we sent out to sweep the areas came across one of these mobile vehicles the Exiled use.” Owen glances down at the report in his hand and frowns. “The inhabitants managed to take out four complete patrols, almost twenty single soldiers, and over half of the Hounds sent out there. We sent two dozen patrols. It should have been more than enough to take care of things.”

“How many of our troops was that?” Zach frowns down at his own notes while Bastian clenches and unclenches his one hidden fist.

“We sent out two dozen patrols, so one hundred and twenty Damascus, not including Hounds. One hundred and forty-four including Hounds. We had eighty-one Damascus units return and only twelve out of twenty-four Hounds.”

“Damn it.” Zach taps a stylus against the screen, scowl on his face. “There was no military there—we scouted. We actually used intelligence for this attack.”

The sarcasm in Zach’s tone is rare for a board meeting, and Bastian’s attention is raised. His childhood friend is miffed. Bastian fights the smile wanting to spread on his face and remains as stoic as possible. He remembers Zach in the courtyard at their school. Nothing like the facility, because they were the privileged children. His little entourage, his perfectly timed bouts of pouting. Zach has manipulated everyone he’s ever met.

Owen’s eyebrows draw together in a way that makes them appear bushy and comical. He seems perplexed. “We’re still not quite sure what went wrong. In the end, if the readings are correct, everyone in that vehicle is deceased.” He peers over his glasses at Zach, an oddly stern line to his expression. “If you insist on sending them out en masse like that, there’s no way I can keep up with replenishments. The system we have is designed for quality, not quantity.”

Deign waves her hand, dismissing Owen’s concerns. “That’s okay. Make what you can when you can as fast as you can. This’ll be over before we have to actually worry about how many of our troops are available to send out.” She glances down at her own notes and grins, looking directly at Bastian. “Everything will take care of itself.”

He nods, seething inside, and fights to not show it. Sometimes he wonders how he even grew up with these people. Being friends with them seems such a foreign possibility now. How she can casually dismiss killing over one thousand people because it doesn’t fit in with her idealized perception of how a populace should act?

The massacre is dismissed as other plans are put before the board. Bastian wants to scream, but he fights down the impulse and bides his time, because there’s really no other option. The core in him boils, offering its power, and for a split second, Bastian contemplates grabbing onto it.

Deign’s voice cuts through his thoughts. “Send out replacement Damascus to join the patrols.”

“It’ll leave Central spread a little thin,” Markus protests, eyes on his own reader.

“That’s really not going to matter. Do you see them trying to storm our gates anytime soon?” Deign laughs and pushes her dark brown hair back over her shoulder. “They’re too scattered as it is. Despite the tracker having failed to deliver us their exact locations, we have enough information. They have no time to do anything but run. Send the patrols and keep the sweeps in the same vein as the one we just heard back from. No time like the present to press harder. In a few months, this will all be behind us.”

The last line has a chill to it, and Bastian suppresses the urge to shiver. Deign’s dismissal is final, and he leaves the room with his jailor to head back to his quarters, not entirely sure why he needed to be present at the meeting at all.

His lieutenant stands outside the entrance to his offices, giving him leeway to move around his quarters unrestricted. If he thought it was possible, Bastian would think it was being considerate, but as things stand, it’s probably being logical and lazy—so it has to move less.

He moves to take his coat off and feels something prickling his leg through his trousers. Frowning, he reaches into the pant pocket and pulls out a tiny folded-up piece of paper with neat handwriting on the front. Bastian can’t help but smile. Janni has always had a soft spot, but for this, when everything is said and done, he’ll send flowers.

Not visible at the kitchen table, he leaves his coat on and sits down, unfolding the note slowly while he pushes off his shoes. He reads it once and then again for good measure and can’t help the smile that spreads across his face.

When he talks to Sai tonight—if he can talk to Sai tonight—there’s much more than he originally thought he’d be able to tell her.

Sai opens bleary eyes and peeks through the filtered window at the scorched wasteland outside. After the amount of sleep she had during the day, she didn’t think she’d sleep again so easily. “Sorry,” she mumbles to Dom, whose gaze is fixed in front of him.

He shakes his head. “No need. I don’t require company.”

She wonders if he realizes that some phrasings can hurt, or maybe this overtiredness is just making her a little more sensitive than usual. “Do we have a plan or are we just pulling up to the nearest town and dumping the goods?”

Dom smiles and glances over. “We’re pulling up to the farthest town and dumping ‘the goods’ as you call it. Farthest away and then work our way back methodically. We should get halfway home before we run out. We’ll have to head back and get the next batch from Kayde.”

“Two trips?” She raises her hands at the ceiling in a classic ‘why me’ gesture and laughs. “Two trips it is then. I guess we can’t expect Kayde to wave a wand and have it all magically appear.”

“Kayde has to process a lot,” Dom adds with a completely straight face.

Sai laughs. “You’re being mean to her. Why’re you mean to her?”

Dom blinks, his eyes flashing through rainbows again. “Because she’s…always around you.” He shrugs. “And she annoys me.”

“You get annoyed?” Sai speaks the words slowly, still stuck on the first part of the statement. “And she isn’t always around me.”

His eyes don’t leave her face. “No. Maybe she’s not. But you always seem close.”

Sai suddenly feels unsure of herself. Is he upset with her? “No one is closer to me than you, Dom.”

“What?” His eyes settle back on their sparkling silver, somehow luminescent as he focuses on her. If she watches them for long enough, they’ll hypnotize her, so she looks away.

“I said no one is closer to me than you.”

He grunts, and as she turns back, she sees a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth with none of the usual alien hints.

Sai smiles to herself and digs for a pair of sunglasses. The sun is far too bright even with the shielding. How on earth Mele manages not to turn to ashes is beyond her. Despite enjoying the relative companionship between them, there’s this distinct lack of control. After fidgeting for a bit, she finally blurts out, “So do we have a plan? Like what PCs, where do we go, are we doing this under the cover of nightfall or just kind of whenever we can sneak in and fill their filtration systems with goop?”

“Truthfully?”

“Preferably.”

“All of that. We’re going to visit PC 29 first and work our way down the chain. Some of their systems are accessible from the outside; many aren’t. If my experience in Central is anything to go by, we’ll need both of us for most of these. Either way, I’d feel safer with you to watch my back. Damascus will probably be patrolling the streets. There’s nothing safe about this mission.”

“Okay.” Sai blinks, taking in the list of everything to do. “Any reason why PC 29 first?”

He laughs and sets several dials on Mele into place before turning to face her. “It’s the most distant from Central. Take out the spider’s legs and it can’t move its body.”

“Still has snapping jaws, though.” She grins at him, ignoring his mimicry of rolling his eyes. Then a thought strikes her. “It’s not poison to those who have the dormant gene, right?”

Dom shakes his head. “It’s a type of relaxant. It’ll relieve just enough of the coercion to let them think for themselves. When it’s used in conjunction with a normal filter, the payload in it will disperse into the dome over time. It’s just like breathing. Besides, Kayde tested it on herself. She’s fine.”

“Is that annoying, too?”

Sai meant it as a joke, but Dom doesn’t miss a beat. “In a way. What if it had been poisonous and she’d died? Who was going to develop the counter-agent then?”

“Wow, you think in ways I wouldn’t even contemplate.”

“It’s why they give me all the best jobs.” Dom grins and shifts down a gear.

Sai watches as he guides Mele close to a rock cluster—or maybe it was once a farm dwelling. Too much time has passed to tell. People used to live out here on the plains, in cottages with fields of green and tractors to till them. She can’t even imagine a life where the sun isn’t lethal, where going outside in the daylight is tantamount to suicide. “Do you ever wonder if our planet will get back to where it was?”

Dom shakes his head. “I don’t worry about impossibilities. None of us should.”

“Why is it impossible?”

He looks at her for a good second or two. “The ozone layer is gone and the sun will never get any further away. Maybe one day it’ll explode. Which means one day even what we have now could be gone. But nothing out here will ever be green again—or at least not green and stay that way.”

Sai leans back in her chair and closes her eyes. She tries not to dwell on the way she wishes it was. “Do you think the dominos will be okay?”

“You did well,” Dom says instead of answering her question.

“No, I mean, did we help them?” She sits back up and focuses on him until he looks her way.

“In a way.” He shrugs at her and relaxes in his chair. “They want names, you know.”

“Say what?”

He chuckles. “They want names. They don’t want numbers anymore. And they want the right to fight for their own beliefs.”

“They have beliefs?” Sai can’t quite wrap her head around that.

Dom raises an eyebrow. “Do I not have beliefs and personality? What about abilities and a name?”

“Your name doesn’t count. It’s not exactly the most original thing in the world.”

“Neither is Sai, but they’re part of what defines us.” His eyes linger on hers just briefly.

“Touché.” She smiles. “So they want to be themselves, to find themselves? And what beliefs are these that would drive them to fight?”

“Much the same as our own. Idiots shouldn’t have any power.”

“Ah.” Sai stretches, trying to get comfortable. “I like them more and more each day.”

The sun is setting on the horizon when they finally make it. Sai blinks at the blood red tinge to the sky. “Is that a bad omen, do you think?” she asks half-heartedly. Just as she thought, Dom doesn’t answer but continues to transfer the cylindrical filtration containers to his backpack.

“We have about thirty minutes if we want to hit more PCs tonight.”

“How many?” She knows they can make it faster because of Mele but has no idea how long this whole process will take them.

“I’d prefer we make two more. That’ll make it three, and it’s only because these are closer together than others. Usually it’ll take us more time.”

Sai hefts her own bag with the tools they’ll need and flexes her arms and legs. The latter no longer feel foreign to her; they’re solid, strong, and reliable. “You said we’ll have to find a shaft?”

Dom nods. “It’s a strange shaft. I only found it when Bastian got captured. Not too easily accessible but doable. They’ve never been the smartest.”

Sai laughs. “You do realize the GNW didn’t actually build the PCs, right? They were here beforehand—they just happened to move into them when they cheated control off the, if you can believe it, even more corrupt government that went before.”

He glances at her. There’s a strange heat about him that’s not usually there. “You’ve been wanting to use that little speech for a very long time, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I have. I wanted a larger audience, but you’ll have to do.” Sai perks up at Dom’s smile. Maybe all the drama in her head will die down and leave her alone. Maybe his odd moods will abate. At least enough so she can enjoy herself while they sabotage the airways of one of her own people’s cities in an attempt to overthrow the government. Just another day at the office.

She groans softly. When she puts it that way, it’s a wonder she doesn’t have a panic attack and start screaming.

“Sai?”

Dom’s light touch against the small of her back is strangely comforting. Anyone else and she’d have jumped sky high or else punched them. “Sorry. Was lost in thought.”

He eyes her strangely for a minute and moves out. “Stay close. I’ll lead—we don’t need to be getting lost.”

The humor in his voice makes her bat at his back. If it wasn’t for their mission, she’d almost feel relaxed.

No one pays attention to them as they move through the darker side of the city. Buildings are in disrepair, and the dome covering everything has some tears in it, only haphazardly patched up, letting out precious air into the hostile atmosphere.

“Their filtration systems must be working overtime.” Sai lowers her voice so it’s just above a whisper, knowing Dom will hear her.

With a slight nod, he drops back a few steps to walk beside her. Still, no one looks at them. Everyone is off doing menial tasks, scrounging for drugs and food, or reveling in their deliberate obliviousness. Sai remembers hating it when she lived it, but somehow it’s become so much more understandable, knowing what she knows now.

“The domes are technically repaired with a transparent version of the white mesh that otherwise covers it. Light-canceling mesh wasn’t in this PC’s budget at the last check.” He shrugs. “The further they are from Central, the less say they have in everything. Don’t worry. Kayde knows. She has her hands in all of the databases. There’s no way she didn’t compensate for those PCs whose filtration systems are laboring. That’s why each canister is labeled. Once it’s in the air, the canister is programmed to output what’s needed to maintain the correct dilution for the six-month span she planned.”

“What happens if it malfunctions?” Sai blinks up at Dom, suddenly worried for the poor people around them. All of this is out of their control. Not only has the GNW appropriated their thoughts, but the Exiled are about to dump them in a sea full of confusion.

He pauses. “It would have to explode the filtration system to do these humans harm.”

Sai nods, and Dom pulls ahead again to scout out and locate the shaft they need. The view around them is fascinating. It’s been so long since Sai was in one of the PCs, way back five years ago now, when she demolished her entire block. She remembers the thoughts these people have and the things they go through. Having been in their place, her heart goes out to them, but if they are anything like her, pity is the last thing they need.

What they need is a detox, some decent food, clothes, and a job. In short, they just need someone to care. She wrinkles her nose at the smell, fully aware that at one point she thought all this was normal. After all, it’s where the majority dwell in most PCs.

Those who have, keep having, and those who struggle end up with nothing. Sometimes even less than that.

Her thoughts pass back to the parents who never wanted her or loved her. She regrets their deaths, but only because she never got the chance to tell them to get out of her life.

“Ouch.” She bumps face-first into Dom as he stands in the middle of an alley, the blocks on either side rising up into the flickering lights of the dome. “Give a girl some warning next time,” she mutters under her breath as she rubs her nose.

Dom glances over his shoulder. “I’ve been standing here for about ten seconds. What warning would you like next time?”

She sighs. There’s something about being out with Dom. He sets her on edge, and yet she always feels safe. It’s an odd feeling these days. She’s so used to being the one who keeps others safe now. “Yeah, I get it.”

A few steps more and she’s standing next to him, looking down through a rather large circular grate at a shaft that appears bottomless. “This is it?” she asks, her tone dubious.

He nods and takes her backpack off her, fishing inside. “You’ll need these.” He pulls out gloves with spikes on them. “You’re going to learn something today—if your new limbs have fully integrated, that is.” He grins slyly at her.

“Or what?” she asks suspiciously.

“Or I’ll be scraping you off the bottom of that pit. Wherever it is…” Dom’s nose wrinkles. “Or I could just leave you down there to rot. I don’t think they’d notice the smell around here.”

Sai scowls at him, forgetting every lesson Bastian ever taught her about schooling her features. “That’s really not nice.” He chuckles as he loosens the grate, and she steps uneasily from one foot to the other. “Seriously, though, Dom. What am I doing?”

“You just need to shape your feet a little sharper so you can dig in and gain a good foothold.” His tone is so matter-of-fact that she gapes at him.

“Say what?”

He frowns for a moment and holds out his hand to display. “Just sharpen the edges a little, so you can jab your foot into the mortar gaps and gain good hold.” His hand smooths at the side, and his fingertips become spikes with which to grip, just like the gloves he gave her.

“You want me to go barefoot?”

“Sai, you don’t have human feet anymore. Nothing is going to cut your feet or make your skin dry or do any of those things people worry about. I thought you would have realized it by now.”

Sai can feel her face flush. “Realized what?”

“The fact that most of your lower body can now be used as a weapon. It is a weapon. You are stronger than you ever were, and your legs and feet can be lethal if you want them to.” Dom stands and looks at her and then down to her feet. “Take your shoes off and trust me.”

Sai gulps, and her hands suddenly feel clammy, like she’ll slip off everything. Slowly undoing the buckles on her boots, she steps out of them and hugs herself, peering down at the strange skin-colored substance that now makes up a substantial part of her body.

“Extend your foot and just…visualize what it is you want it to be and exert your psionics toward it.” He sounds almost eager, like it’s something he’s been waiting to share with her.

She can’t help the small gasp that escapes her as her foot changes shape. “What…”

“See.” Dom smiles at her. The expression is full of understanding. Sai only wishes she could understand it, too. “Don’t try and walk on it like that, though. You just want to do this as your climbing. Don’t worry—I’ll have a lead rope on you. After this one you’ll take to it like a duck on water.”

“Doesn’t adrium sink?”

“Okay, then a bird to flight. Better?”

Sai smiles despite herself and her inner terror. Dom’s trying so hard to make her feel at ease, and here she is squandering time they don’t really have. “Couldn’t you have taught me this in Mele? I mean it was a long drive here…”

He blinks at her. “I hadn’t thought of it.”

There’s an oddly sad overtone to his words, and she takes pity on him, even though her nerves are skyrocketing. Practice would have helped. “Lead rope me, boss. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” As long as I don’t look down, I should be fine. There are some conversations better left in her head.

The stones that form the wall seem older than the rest of the city. There’s a dampness to them and a fine sliver of mold in places. Lowering herself into the shaft, with Dom waiting patiently above, she concentrates like he showed her and extends her foot. Her feet can feel the contours and exact patterns of the rocks, not to mention crevices and the detail in the moss, but they don’t feel wet or hurt. When she finds the right gap, she estimates the size of the spike she needs to mold. After several false-starts, she gets it right, and the foothold is secure.

Gingerly, she puts all her weight on it and repeats the process with the other leg. The hold with her hands is far less secure because the gloves, while fitting, still aren’t a part of her.

It doesn’t feel like she thought it would as she climbs down, slowly getting used to the action and reaction of thought and power exerted through her legs to form them differently. The sensations are slightly dull, and yet even more vibrant at the same time. The ability to morph her legs is sort of scary and a little exhilarating.

Explaining it is difficult, even to herself. This is what Dom feels all the time. That sudden realization makes a few things about him much clearer and understandable. But thinking in that vein scares her, too, because despite everything, he’s not quite human.

Her legs might be strong and made of an amazing material, but her upper body strength has never had to get used to climbing. Punching just isn’t the same thing. By the time Dom shuffles past her to an odd opening emitting a rather loud whirr, she feels like her arms are going to fall off.

“Here.” He reaches out and takes her hand, guiding her to the tiny ledge. Sai knows she should probably be focusing on something else, but the huge ventilation fan a foot in front of her face is taking up all the logical space in her brain.

“That’s our way in?”

“That’s our way in. You up to phasing?”

“Kind of have to be, don’t I?” Her teeth are chattering, and it’s not from the cold. Sai is more nervous than she’s ever been in her life. In front of her there are whirling blades, and a step behind her lies a long fall to certain death, regardless of how amazing her legs might be.

“You can do this, Sai. I’ve seen you phase carrying a sick girl who is taller than you. If anyone can do this, you can.”

She smiles tightly and takes a deep breath, clinging to Dom’s reassurance. This mission is so outside of her comfort zone, it’s difficult to center herself. “We’re about to find out, aren’t we?” It’s not that she doesn’t think she can do it; it’s that she’s never phased while standing still before.

Looking behind herself, she steps to the edge and bends her knee, as if about to push off and race. A few deep breaths to center her mind and she phases. Everything moves in slow motion, and for a moment she thinks she’s clear. But the a fan blade catches on her heel just before the end of the phase and she rolls into the wall on the other side. Her breath comes in gasps, but she made it and immediately knows what she did wrong.

Dom reaches out a hand and helps her to her feet, an answering smile on his face. “You did it. Clipped your heel?”

“I misjudged the width, just by a fraction. As long as other ventilation fans are the same, I won’t do that again.” Surviving the phase gives her confidence she didn’t realize she was missing. “Where to now?”

Dom gazes into the dark beyond for a moment, a frown on his face. “The condition of these facilities is even worse than I’d been led to believe. Up there.” He points at a flickering light around knee height. “We need to make it through there.”

“This is like something out of a horror movie,” she whispers as they move ahead.

“I didn’t realize you were so nostalgic,” he murmurs, his attention not on her for the moment.

“I’m not, but I feel like that flickering light is going to go out and leave us alone with some monsters.” Something scuttles off to her left, going back the way they came. Maybe it’s a rat going to join the rest of his rat buddies in scaling the walls. “Sorry,” she says. “Overactive imagination.”

Dom nods in the dim light and moves on toward the brightness at the end of the tunnel.

It feels like it takes them a long time to reach a point where Dom speaks again. In reality, it was probably only a couple of minutes.

“We’re here. Off to the left. I need you to hold the shaft open. This is why I can’t do this alone. I may be able to morph to some extent, but I can’t stretch myself four feet.” In the dim light, she can see a hint of a smile on his face.

She glances around. “Is it odd there are no guards?”

Dom shrugs. “Not for this PC. They’ll have someone dropping by a few times a day in order to check on the progress and make sure the filters are working. But no—they don’t man this 24/7. Not here, and not in the first few we’ll be going to.”

“The outskirts aren’t that important to Central, are they?” It’s mostly a rhetorical question.

“Not at all.” He glances at her, a shadow crossing over his eyes so fast it’s gone before he continues. “There’s no influence to be gained on the outskirts.”

She tsks with annoyance.

“At least it makes our job here easier. For now.” Dom’s tone is grim, and it echoes Sai’s own sentiments.

The filtration machine is massive. There are twelve divisions of it, all branching off the main hub, which is exactly where Dom heads. He frowns for a second and pulls the container carefully out of his pack. “Here.”

He gestures to a flap about four feet up and on a slant toward the ceiling. Inside the flap is a metal handle that requires her rotate it and then tug it open and hold it there.

“You need me to hold this open while you insert the filter?”

“Yes. Long enough to make sure I get it working.”

She holds the flap, which is far heavier than it looks, and twists at the handle, raising it slightly. A chamber to the side opens up, and she can see several openings for canisters. Dom inserts the Ebony cylinder. With a twist of a small knob, it makes a whoosh sounds and disappears.

He points after a few seconds at a red light, now becoming green. “There. They’re supposed to use fresh filters every six months—or when the sign shows red. These guys on the outskirts are lazy, and their air is stale. At least for the next six months they’ll not only get their minds back, but have fresh air, too. We have to go.”

Without the burden of the Ebony, the trek out is much faster than the one in. They can jog the entire way. Getting past the fan at the end of the tunnel is a little trickier on the way out—far less room to make a mistake. Sai almost shoots past, but Dom’s hand grabs the waistband of her pants as she precariously balances on the precipice. Another time he’s saved her. It’s like a habit now and it’s starting to eat at her. Not because she doesn’t appreciate it, but because she doesn’t want to need it. Even from him. Perhaps especially from him.

As she scales the wall after Dom, far easier than she would have ever imagined, something inside her clicks, and a dread creeps through her she can’t seem to shake.

The drive to the next PC is spent mostly in silence. Dom glances over at her every now and again, concern mirrored on his face. Sai can’t bring herself to meet his eyes. Hell, it hurts to meet her own in the reflection in Mele’s screens.

“We’ll be at PC 27 soon. Will you be okay to come with me?”

“Sure.” Sai stubs her toe—or what pretends to be a toe against the bottom of her chair—and wonders why it only gives her a dull sense of having touched something. Are they malfunctioning? Is she losing her synaptic connection to her new limbs?

“Sai, I’m going to give you exactly five minutes to tell me what the hell has been wrong with you since we finished up in PC 29. If you don’t tell me, I’m going to pull over until you do and we’ll be stuck on this mission far longer than we can afford.”

Dom’s expression is one Sai’s not seen directed at her before, and she shrinks back involuntarily. He’s obviously annoyed. “I’m fine.” The moment the words are out of her mouth, she regrets them.

“You are not fine. So much that it’s distracting.” His eyes are on their path, navigating the dark with ease. “Tell me, Sai. You don’t usually keep things from me.”

She keeps her eyes averted. “I’m keeping them from myself.” The thoughts in her head scare her because the reality is harsh.

“Then tell me.” This time his voice is insistent but soft.

“I’m not human anymore, am I?” The words force their way past her lips, as if she needs reassurance from him that she’s wrong, that it’s all in her head. Even though she knows he’s not going to lie to her, not going to give her the answer she seeks, the innate need to be told everything is going to be all right gets to her.

For a few moments she doesn’t think he’s going to answer. The silence in Mele is suffocating, and the surprise tears won’t stop running down her cheeks.

His words are so soft that, when he finally does speak, she has to strain to hear him. “Not entirely. Not anymore.”

Her gasp echoes in her ears, and the sobs come fast as images flit through her mind. Of her power, of her feet, of her legs that aren’t legs but some foreign component attached to her skin so she can still fulfill her purpose for the Exiled. Maybe it would have been better if she’d stayed in the streets. Maybe it would have been better if she’d never passed that damned last exam. Maybe…

“Stop it, Sai.” Dom is there, so close to her, so gentle. So alien in the perfection of his features—so close to being what she never wants to become. She pulls away, but his grip is firm.

“Snap out of it.” Even with the urgency in his voice, it’s gentle. He’s always thinking of her.

She hears the tone in his voice, knows Mele is on autopilot, and is fully aware they’re on a schedule, but there’s a part of her still childish enough to just not care. To want the adults to finally buck up and take care of everything, to take care of her.

“You’re still you. You’re still the girl I helped Bastian teach, you’re still the person I helped realize just how powerful you could be, and you’re still the friend I care for more than I should. Don’t break down on me when I need you.” His voice grates as if he’s trying to fight back his own tears, which is odd, because Sai knows a domino can’t cry. Even though she knew all this without him having to say it, to hear the words is so much more comforting than just knowing them in silence.

“Then why can I do this? I’m not a domino, but I’m no longer human. A human being can’t will their body to change shape.”

“Neither can you.”

“Semantics,” she mutters. She doesn’t move from the hold he has on her, his fingers against her skin grounding her. It helps keep her thoughts level. “Can Mathur? He has a portion of one leg replaced, correct?”

Dom shakes his head. “He only has a calf—a prosthetic, no synaptic connections. There’s not enough adrium in his system to…form the bond.”

“But there is in mine?”

Dom nods, a sad sort of smile on his face. “I’m so sorry, Sai.”

She shakes her head at him. “This isn’t your fault. You weren’t yourself. And now, I’m not myself.” She laughs, a bitter sound even to her own ears. “I’m just not sure what to do, how to deal with this. Do I really just run around in a pair of shorts and no shoes?” Her fingers flutter down to where the adrium intersects with her flesh, the defining line becoming less and less apparent, even to herself.

“It’s melding with you, knowing you. It’s feeding off you.” His voice is hoarse and sad. It’s not a side of Dom she likes. It scares her even more than being able to morph her feet.

“Will I die?”

Dom laughs softly. “It’s not like that. Adrium is a parasite. An alien parasite. Couple it with a machine and you’re fine. That’s all it needs for adaption and it finds the purpose. But couple it with psionic DNA and it thrives. It’s like it becomes sentient, a part of you, feeding off the electronic impulses that flow through your body. At some stage you’re going to have to fight its natural impulses, but at the moment, it’s just melding.”

A chill runs down her back. “Those dark thoughts?”

“The ones that coax you? Yes.” He gives her less of an answer than she wanted.

She laughs and leans her head back, cricking her neck to try and downplay the panic. “Fight the natural impulses? Am I anywhere close to that?”

Dom shrugs and lets go of her shoulders to brush her errant hair out of her face. The breath of his fingers against her cheek lingers like a promise of something she can’t fathom, doesn’t even know if she wants.

He reestablishes control of the console and looks back at her, his expression sadder than she’s ever seen before. “Take it one day at a time, Sai. One day at a time.”

Her bed is soft and fluffy, far nicer than anything she remembers sleeping in before. Sai rubs her eyes and looks around the room. She frowns at the all-white decor and the feathers floating out of the pillow she just pushed to the side. It reminds her of the facility in color, but not in comfort.

Swinging her feet to the side, she’s about to get up when she realizes just how far off the ground the bed is. There’s a plush white carpet far beneath her. She frowns again and turns around to gently lever herself to the bottom. It takes longer than she thinks, and the last few feet let her float to sit on the cushy ground.

“Sai.”

She knows that voice and turns, rubbing at her eyes again. “I’m dreaming?”

Bastian smiles at her, the warm smile he only showed her once or twice, but in the dream it could be a permanent fixture. “In a way.”

“You look better than you did last time.”

“Ah, yes.” His visage darkens for a moment. “I’ve arranged for my own sort of reprieve. This is odd…” He fades for a second before coming back stronger than before. “Sorry, still getting used to this type of telepathy.”

“This is telepathy?”

“Projecting my own consciousness to someone else is a sort of like dream-walking—a type of telepathy. But it’s not something I ever tried to do, not until that day…” He walks over—or floats over, Sai can’t tell. The movements are smooth. His expression turns sad for an instant as he glances at her legs.

She follows his gaze and realizes that, for the first time since she got them, she’s actively presenting herself in a dream with her new legs. The dark thoughts that threaten to overwhelm her stay at bay but only by sheer force of will. “You worried me, us… What arrangement?”

“They think I was trying to protect the people in the PCs.” There’s half a grimace on his face.

“It’s not exactly a lie. You were just trying to protect everyone.” She wants to reassure him. “They’d have known if you were lying.”

“True.” His face lights up, more carefree than she’s ever seen him. “I wanted you to know that I’m under supervision and Dom won’t be able to visit. This is the only way I can still gather information and deliver it to you. I’ll make sure it’s not a trap first, though.”

“How can you do this?” Sai asks, curiosity suddenly overwhelming her.

“Your core. Dom explained it to me, and when I need to hide that part of my consciousness I can no longer drug to keep from them—or when I need to utilize a little more power than I readily have—I just tap into it…and…it makes me feel so alive, Sai, so damn in control.”

She glances at him and the freedom with which he speaks in this state. “This place—it suits you.”

He grins like a twelve-year-old. “Thank you. Will you tell them…tell them that while I’ll still need to get out of there, I should at least be able to work in a concerted effort with you when the time comes. Help you complete the task. I’m no longer completely useless.”

She smiles, and the expression feels oddly soft in this place. “You never were.”

“Perhaps, but still let them know.” His blue eyes practically glow with intensity as he speaks.

“I promise.”

“I think he’s trying to wake you.” Bastian’s words are fading. The entire world is fading and her head feels so light she can’t think anymore.

“Sai.” Dom shakes her, but Sai’s eyelids are too heavy to force open.

“Lemme sleep a minute.” She fends him off feebly, eyes squeezed shut as she tries to maintain that groggy state.

“We don’t have a minute. You’ve been asleep for ages.”

Sai’s eyes snap open as she crashes to earth with the realization that she’s in the passenger’s seat and not that beautiful wonderland she’d been in moments ago.

“Sorry.” She forces herself to sit up properly, blinking her eyes to try and clear her head. “Had a dream.”

“That wasn’t a normal dream.” Dom heads to the back of Mele and starts gathering their things. “What is Bastian doing?”

“How can you hear my dreams?” She feels a little invaded, a bit vulnerable. Maybe Bastian’s attempts to reach out to her through her dreams is what’s been making her sleep so much the last couple of days. It’s probably interfering with her actual sleep.

“I can hear anyone’s dreams, thoughts… I usually choose not to.” His back is to her, but he turns around as he slings the backpack over his shoulders. “When you mumble strangely in your sleep, I want to make sure you’re safe there, too.”

The words settle between them, and the vulnerability trying to eat at her evaporates. He’s right. If Bastian can get to her through her dreams, there’s always a possibility another powerful telepath could, too. She smiles and nods, still mulling over the dream in her mind.

“Are you ready?” he asks, tone soft. “This is the last run for tonight.”

“Third one’s the charm.” She barely even remembers the second. It’s a blur of forming and reforming her feet to fit. The mental acuity it demands is taxing, and her upper body burns so much it feels like she’s on fire. To top it off, it’s getting easier to trigger her feet.

This time they leave Mele a little farther away from town.

“Sensors,” Dom says by way of explanation. “Mele is mostly adrium, but she does have certain electronic elements that sensors will scan for.”

“Mmm…” Sai concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other, not feeling as rested as she should. “Why did we do PC 29, PC 27, and now PC 28?”

“Because someone at city planning decided to build PC 28 after PC 27, but farther in front of PC 27. So the distances are off.” He shakes his head, and she thinks she can see suppressed laughter in the movement of his shoulders.

“City-planning genius then.” She smiles as Dom chuckles out loud this time. She steps faster to fall into step with him.

“I didn’t intrude in your dream. Just enough to make sure you were safe,” he says softly as they enter through another desolate alleyway and blend into the dregs of the city. “What happened?”

“Bastian is fine and figuring out his own abilities as enhanced by his core.” She sighs, belatedly unsure about the shining confidence around her mentor.

“It enhances his telepathy?” Dom raises an eyebrow. “That’s interesting.”

“And a little worrisome.” Her gut starts to roil again. Dom nudges her gently, and she smiles, but takes a breath to continue. “He seems to revel in the power.”

“Power is tempting.” A shadow passes over his face.

Sai shakes her head to try and clear out the negative thoughts. “They believe he was trying to stop the Psionic Wars from repeating themselves.”

Dom walks a few feet in silence, eyes on the ground, as he searches for the way in. “At least he’s all right.”

“Yeah…” Sai follows his gaze. “There!” She points triumphantly at the grate, half-hidden by a dilapidated building’s outer wall. “Maybe we should make a contest out of this.”

Dom looks at her for a moment. “Deal,” he says before jimmying the grate open. “As long as you keep score with me and tell me the rest of the dream.”

“He said he doubts you can reach him in person, but that he will make himself useful to us. I don’t think we could stop him from putting himself in danger if we tried.”

“And he’s extending his reach with the core?” Dom asks as he lowers himself into the shaft.

He has to wait for his answer until they’re inside PC 28’s facility. Sai follows him more easily this time, even though it’s difficult to ignore the screaming muscles in her chest and shoulders. “Yeah, really. He said he figured it out in desperation when they had him dosed on Shine. We’re not to worry about him.” Because that’s so easy, she wants to add, but doesn’t.

“Okay,” Dom answers nonchalantly as he inserts the canister smoothly. In the distance, there’s a steady plop of water echoing through to them. Sai shivers.

Sai can tell it isn’t, though, and she doesn’t blame Dom because there’s something not sitting right with Sai about the whole situation either. Not with Bastian, not with how easy it’s been so far. The place is deserted for the third time in a row. Sai isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth as they say, but the whole setup leaves her queasy.

“Don’t worry about it. Kayde assured me the closer we get to Central, the more difficulties we’ll have getting in.”

“Will you get out of my head?” Sai bites back to stop from snapping the words.

“Sorry.” Dom pauses. “Habit. And Bastian was right. You think very loudly.”

She grunts. “Only to you. Do you think we’re doing the right thing with Ebony?”

“I think not doing it would be worse.”

“Cryptic, and yet no actual answer.”

Dom is silent as they jog back to Mele. He activates the door and motions her inside before speaking again. “Not doing this would be a disservice to the people of these cities, but they will realize they’ve been taken for fools for the last few decades. No one likes to be taken for a fool. Do you understand?”

“You mean they may react badly to finding out they’ve been duped for so long.”

Dom nods as he climbs into the driver’s seat and maneuvers Mele slowly away. “In a nutshell. Tell me, Sai, if you found out after decades that you’d been lulled into a false sense of peace, security, and agreement, how would you react?”

Sai grimaces. “I see your point.”

“Exactly.”

“How far away is the next PC?”

“About four hours, but we’ll get there in the middle of the day and stay hidden until dusk before we move in.” He glances over at her. “You should sleep. You neglect it far too much when back at the base. You’re going to need your upper body strength for this one. We need to scale a wall much higher than the shafts we’ve been dropping into.”

“What? How’re we supposed to have our contest then?” Sai pouts at him.

“You never asked me if it’d be fair.”

Sai cranes her neck against the dropping sun and the shadows deepening in the narrow passages between the buildings. “You’re sure it’s up there?” she asks dubiously as Dom grabs her equipment back out of a pack and presses them into her hands.

“If it’s wrong, blame Kayde. Actually…” Dom pauses for a moment. “Blame Kayde anyway.”

She glances at him for a second. “Do you want to be human, Dom? I mean—more human?” she asks, suddenly curious.

His expression hardens and he actually sighs before answering. “I just want to be me, Sai. Me and whatever that entails as long as I can make the choices that affect me.”

She watches him, the way the disappearing light reflects off his skin. “I see.”

“Do you?”

“Maybe.” She tests her weight against the stone wall, frowning as she hammers her foot into it. There are some things about Dom that stand out as so different that she has to do a double-take. “I don’t like this one.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, switching his grip, and checks both ways down the alleyway. “We have a twenty-minute window to get to the fan intake in the building. If we don’t make it in that time, a search light will sweep and catch us, and it’s going to be a hell of a lot harder to hold onto this wall with people firing crossbow bolts at us.”

“Great—just what I needed, deadly incentive,” she grumbles and starts pulling herself up the wall, ignoring the way her previous crossbow wounds twinge occasionally and her muscles strain and ache from their workout the night before. What needs to be done, needs to be done, and no one can take her place and do it for her, regardless of how much she might just want to go to sleep.

With each movement, she reforms her feet in her mind, punching through with all the weight and force she can muster, gripping with her fingers. Sheer willpower is all that keeps her going.

Seventeen minutes later finds her sitting on the ledge of the intake, letting her legs sway back and forth as she looks down at the fifty-foot drop beneath her. “Think that’d kill someone?”

“You have someone in mind?” He leans back slightly away from the edge, eyebrow raised.

“No, just for future reference.” She grins up at him and pulls her legs in just in time for the search light to sweep, as if on cue. “You weren’t kidding.”

“I rarely kid.” He blinks at her, the gesture barely visible in the twilight. “You’re getting faster.”

“Don’t need you to babysit me all the time.” Sai mock-flexes her biceps and winces briefly at the pain. He laughs softly, a slight metallic edge to the sound that resonates through the passage.

This ventilation intake is easier to navigate than the previous ones. There are several feet for her to get her bearings and phase through, even though there are two fans to get past.

“There are patrols inside here. You need to disable the ones on the left side. I’ll take the right. Do not kill them, do not let them see you. They need to wake up knowing nothing and finding nothing missing. Understood?”

“Crystal clear.” She pauses for a moment. “How do we know all of this? Kayde?”

“It’s not all just Kayde.” He shakes his head. “Exiled are everywhere, Sai. Quite literally.”

“What do you mean, everywhere?” This time it’s Sai’s turn to be skeptical.

“We have at least some people in each PC. People like Garr and those who tend at her bars. There are a lot of people not happy about the rule of the GNW—and now is our time to shine.”

“Have you been practicing that?”

Dom grins and begins to move down a hall far better lit and maintained that the previous PCs they visited. The first thing Sai notices is how her own footfalls are non-existent. The adrium conforms as her thoughts will it to be silent and absorb any of the noise.

The first guard doesn’t even hear her coming. She steps up behind her and presses the injector to the nerve at the base of her skull. Her body goes limp, and Sai barely manages to lower the guard to the floor. A slight exertion of healing and the pinprick isn’t detectable. She moves over to Dom’s unconscious guard to do the same.

One set down—who knows how many to go. Dom nods at her and they move farther down. Sai spares a moment of silent thanks in Kayde’s direction.

It’s the third guard that catches her by surprise, reaching back to scratch his neck just as she’s about to close in. Sai barely avoids him and moves flush against the wall as he turns around when his guard mate falls into unconsciousness. Dom melds immediately with their surroundings, but part of Sai has no way to chameleon, and so she takes a large step, elbows him to the ground, and grabs for his neck just in time.

The halls are bare, and her breath comes in ragged gasps. Stealth has never really been her thing. “You really do need two for this,” she says to him, not caring if he answers or not. “That was far too close.”

“Despite thoughts to the contrary, it’s not just your lovely company I wanted for the trip.” Dom’s tone is dry, and she isn’t sure if that’s because of wit or exasperation.

She shrugs. “For the charm of my company, for old times’ sake.” Even though she meant it flippantly, the words come out sincere.

He smiles, and she feels the tension ease up between them. Navigating whatever it is they have since the accident has been difficult. “That was the last guard. We have a window of time, but we can’t push it. Let’s make it back out before they wake up.”

The doors at the end of the corridor open into a much larger filtration plant. The hub in the middle is almost twice the size of the others, and in order to reach the depository, they have to climb up on top of it.

“This is so much bigger,” she whispers, almost scared of how silently the machines perform.

“This PC is closer, wealthier.” He shrugs carefully out of his backpack to extract two cylinders. The cylinders are slightly larger than the previous ones they’ve used and have a blunt and squared attachment on the end.

“This machine needs two?”

Dom nods. “This machine needs two, specifically detailed to fit this exact machine.”

“Let me guess,” she says as he inserts the tubes with amazing care. Her fingers strain as she holds back the flap and trigger again. “Kayde’s hacker skills?”

Dom waits until the tubes are settled before he nods.

They make the jog back down the hall with not much time to spare. Dodging the searchlight feels better than dodging a bullet, and for the first time in a long time, Sai actually thinks they might have some hope.

Mele is warm and comforting, a home away from home. “Do you need to rest?” she asks, suddenly energized.

Dom chuckles. “No. Why?”

“I’m not sure. I suddenly feel invincible.”

“Ah.” Dom guides them out. “Well that’s it, then.”

“What do you mean?” Sai asks, genuinely curious.

“Whenever someone says that, it’s time to start watching our backs.”

The last run before they have to go back. The last distribution delivery before she gets to curl up in a real bed for a night or two, check on her friends, and make sure there are still some Exiled left to save. Sai watches as Dom inserts the cartridge carefully. The lights blink back to green and the machine gives a happy whir. At least, that’s what Sai likes to imagine, because really, wouldn’t anyone be happy to be distributing freedom to its people?

A crash echoes off to the side, and Dom starts. Sai crouches down, fingers lightly resting against the concrete floor, ready to spring as she scans the engine room. She frowns, trying to listen for any sign of the source of the crash, and opens her mouth to speak, but shuts it again at Dom’s gesture.

They’ve never run into anything unexpected before. Her gloves scrape softly against the concrete as she moves to crouch behind Dom so they have a full view of the area. For the first time, she curses the fact her hands aren’t as malleable as her legs.

She doesn’t expect the whirlwind that comes barreling into her and flings her up and over the top of the hub. Sai barely manages to grab the top of it to keep falling down the other side. The one thing she liked about the outskirt PCs was how short the hubs were.

Loud claws scrape against concrete and metal. Hound? Hounds don’t usually travel without their handlers or a patrol of Damascus, but that’s definitely what this smells like. She scrunches her nose in an effort to avoid some of the offending stench.

Squatting down as she circles the outside of the hub, Sai barely moves in time to avoid the Hound leaping off the top of it. Its leathery skin scours her left side, partially penetrating her body armor. The abrasion immediately starts to sting, but Sai twists around, hands at the ready, and catches the ugly creature around the neck.

Swinging herself behind it, she tightens the grip of her elbow around its neck, ignoring the prickle of sharp skin beneath her. Hounds have no humanity left in them. They’ve killed people she knew and hurt people she cared for. Off to the other side, she can hear Dom with his own set of problems, but right now, right here, she makes the split second decision.

With a twist of her body, she falls back, throwing the Hound over her shoulder and bringing the rest of her weight down on its neck. The crunching sound is sickening as the life bleeds from its eyes.

She’s not sure how long she stands there, staring down at the charcoal-tinged leathery hide. They’re so animalistic, so alien.

“Sai?” She jumps as she feels Dom’s hand on her shoulder. “Sorry…” He tugs on her again. “We have to dispose of them.”

Sai nods. “Good thing this one is a shaft, right?” The words sound detached, even to her own ears.

“Yeah, a good thing.” Dom pauses as he hauls the two he dealt with over his shoulders. “You okay with that one?” He pauses as she nods and frowns looking at her side. “Did it scrape you?”

“Yeah. It stings.”

“It’s poisonous,” he says, and for a moment his expression completely blanks. “It’s okay. I’ll get you some salve back on Mele. Just keep infusing healing to that spot. You’ll be fine.”

She shudders, but nods anyway. She can’t not be. They don’t have long before the patrols change, and they have to get back to base and refill. “They have poisonous skin?”

“Hides,” Dom corrects her. “It’s their last line of defense.”

Sai chides herself for not having known that. Not that she’d seen it coming anyway. She’s getting far too lax having Dom to rely on. The stinging spreads until it’s a fiery ache down her side, and she sends a shot of healing to the area. “What the hell were Hounds doing here anyway, separate from their patrols?”

Dom leads the way and doesn’t answer her until they’re dropping the lifeless carcasses over the side of the ventilation lip. “Not all Hounds have a Damascus Patrol. There were so many of them that some still have handlers—packs of them.”

Sai strains to hear the bodies land, but no sound follows. Maybe the thing really is bottomless. “Well, they’re gone wherever this goes now.”

“Time we were gone, too.”

“Hounds?” Mason frowns. “You’re sure they were Hounds.”

“No, Mason. We carried them back, dumped them down the ventilation shaft, and barely got a look at them.” Dom bristles at the irritation as it beckons the darkness inside.

For a moment Mason just stares at him. “I didn’t realize you were so adept at sarcasm.”

Dom laughs dryly. “Try spending time around your brother and Sai and not picking it up.”

“Touché.” Mason pinches his nose at the bridge and closes his eyes. He seems even wearier than he was when they left. “Was a handler there?”

“Not that we could see—just three Hounds.”

“Could they have been acting alone? Strike that…” Mason sighs. “I know, I know—since when do they have enough brains to do anything on their own? Maybe they were a scouting party.”

“Perhaps surveillance?” Dom shrugs and sits down for once. “Either way, whoever sent them is missing them now, and we’re fine. I just think we might have to be a little more careful from now on.”

“Probably safer.” Mason pauses for a moment and avoids meeting Dom’s eyes. “Tell me a bit more about this information you have from Bastian.”

“He did that whole dream-telepathy thing with Sai.” Dom wiggles his fingers in the air

“Seriously? And you want me to believe you didn’t listen in?”

Dom raises an eyebrow. “I leave her privacy once I know it’s safe and not malicious.”

Mason grunts. “Are you sure it’s him? I mean, is she?”

“From what I can tell, it seems to be him.” Dom shrugs. “And Sai is usually pretty good with that stuff.”

“I’ll have to talk to her.”

“Don’t.” Dom pauses, a hand on Mason’s arm. “Just wait a bit. She got too close in contact with the Hound. Her side is smarting a bit. She’s with Jeffries.”

“She okay?” Mason asks, genuine concern in his tone.

“She’ll be fine, but on top of everything else…” He glances at the door and back. “She’s dealing with a lot right now.”

Mason pauses for a second. “She misses Iria.”

“That’s just the tip of her iceberg. Sometimes I wonder why Bastian chose her specifically to throw into this mess.”

“Because he could and because she was capable, Dom. You’re acting odd lately—a little protective. Becoming attached?”

Dom scowls. “Of course I’m attached. She’s a seventeen-year-old girl, and you butchers have made her responsible for thousands of lives. Next time you feel like saving the world, you might want to take point instead of forcing it on someone else.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, but turns on his heal and leaves the room. Mason can wait for his briefing. Mathur needs his help with the pulse device, and frankly, Dom’s patience for stupidity is wearing thin. The shadows flitting through his mind are getting more difficult to fend off.

“Dom?”

Mathur’s voice interrupts his thoughts, and Dom shakes his head, only to realize he’d walked past the laboratory door. He turns back and smiles at the old man. “Sorry. Things on my mind.”

“You should talk to me.” There’s mild concern lacing the words. “I never thought you’d have that problem.”

Dom scowls. “You say that all the time. Were we really such a surprise to you?”

Mathur blinks at him. “Constant surprises. Things working in ways I never realized would happen. It is not a bad thing. They are good surprises.”

“Surprised by your own genius,” Dom quips goodnaturedly, forcing his irritation down.

“Something like that.” He motions Dom inside where Twenty-Seven looks up and waves at him. “Dom, meet Dael.”

“Dael.” Dom greets Twenty-Seven who nods back at him. “Good choice. It suits you.”

“And sounds a lot better than Twenty-Seven.” Dael’s smile is easier than Dom thinks his own is, and he can’t tell if Dael has chosen to be male or female.

“Most things do,” he says, trying to figure it out subtly.

Dael eyes him closely. “You can stop searching. I’ve decided I do not need to identify with a gender.”

Dom grins. “Just be you.”

They smile back, warmer this time, with a tinge of excitement to the upturn of their lips. He tries not to choke down a slight surge of envy at how easy the expression comes to Dael.

“So what’re we doing?” Dom glances around and notices how tidy the laboratory is without so many dominos lying around, waiting for their turn to be fiddled with. It’s an odd sight.

“Tinkering with the device,” says Mathur from behind said device. “It is coming along, but I still have a long ways to go. Getting that second kernel may help. The pulse we want needs to disable the Damascus permanently. It needs a lot more power than the one the boys’ father and I developed if we want to knock them off their grid for good.”

“They have a grid?” Dom backs up a bit. “I wasn’t aware they had a grid.”

“Not like the one the GNW use. They have a mainframe which is shared amongst all of the lieutenants. Like a traveling hub wherever they go.”

Dom nods thoughtfully. It would explain some things about the way they move, about the lack of communication between them if a lieutenant gets taken out. He eyes the device skeptically. Mathur has added several raised sections, intricately soldered into the flow of the circuitry, probably to help with the range they need. “Speaking of hubs, we got ambushed while switching out cylinders last night.”

“Ambushed?”

“By Hounds.”

“With or without a patrol?”

“Completely alone and without even a handler.”

Mathur straightens his back to look at Dom, a quizzical expression on his face. “That’s odd.”

“Reconnaissance,” Dael interjects quietly. “Hounds are not historically attached to anything. They’re just a result of experiments gone very wrong. They weren’t as lucky as we are.”

Dom learns something new every day. “They just hang around the patrols for the hell of it?”

Dael shrugs, the gesture still stilted enough to show their origin, but getting better. “Not really. There is a draw to the sheer power the Damascus represent. Pack-like behavior.”

“Makes sense.” Dom takes the tool offered wordlessly by Mathur and walks over to inspect the work being done with the kernel fusion. He holds one of the receiving wires out of the way so it’s easier for his creator to work under it. “Sai is having an abrasion checked by Jeffries.”

“Sick?” The concern in Dael’s voice is real. They’re adjusting already.

“Got too close to a Hound. Has abrasions all down the upper part of her body that are bothering her. Wanted a dermal amplifier.” Dom continues to make minuscule progress with the task he set in front of him.

Mathur straightens. “I will check on her.”

By the time Dom looks up, he’s already gone.

Dom is in the navigation deck when the alarms go off. He blinks and pushes down the overwhelming shadows that try to leak into his mind. “Do we know which Mobile is being attacked?”

Evan, formerly domino Thirty-Five, monitors the incoming frequencies until he nods in response. “Lambda, sir.”

Dom acknowledges the information as Evan resets the alarms, just in time for Mason, Mathur, James, and Jeffries to pour into the room. “Do we have a team strong enough to not take Sai and Aishke?”

Mason nods. “I’ll take Darrien and the group he’s been working with. We should have enough.”

“Didn’t we say that last time?” Dom mutters the words, but knows everyone hears them. It’s quiet enough in the room to hear a pin drop. It shouldn’t matter, though—learning curve or not, if they keep losing people at the current rate, there will be no one left to fight the GNW.

Mason moves closer, his gait hitching slightly as he does, and Dom berates himself for being snarky.

“We can do this, Dom. Don’t worry.” Mason means the words to be kind, Dom can see it in his eyes, but all it does is cause the parasite to rise up more, feeding the anger and confusion and making it so Dom can barely keep himself in check.

Mason is deteriorating, and asking him to do so much constantly is going to be the death of him. But Dom nods and watches Mason for just a second before replying, “What choice do we have?”

James motions for two of his guards to accompany him as he walks out the door to begin preparations. Dom watches him go, mind racing at a hundred miles per hour. Why were the Damascus moving away from them?

“You’re thinking it, too, aren’t you?” Mason asks quietly as he skims over the report.

Dom shakes his head. “I’m thinking of far more than that.”

Mason scowls. “You really need to stop eavesdropping.”

“I’m not—not really. It’s nothing I do deliberately. I can shut you all out if I need to, but that isn’t the point.” He rocks back on his heels for a moment, frowning. “It almost feels like a trap. I don’t like traps.”

“I know few people who do.” The strain in Mason’s voice is telling because he lets a glimpse of defeat escape his control.

The silence between them grows uncomfortable. Dom begins to squirm a little. It’s much easier to share silence with Bastian and Sai because he knows them like he knows himself. He’s almost relieved when Mason speaks again.

“Why not send Aishke?”

“They work best as a team, and Sai needs to relax for once.”

Mason laughs softly. “You’re very protective of her.”

Dom glares at him before counting to ten to calm himself, pushing the parasite from his mind. “I took her legs from her. Protection is the least I can do.”

Mason reaches out a hand, but pulls it back just before he touches Dom’s arm. “Sai is stronger than you’re giving her credit for.” He pauses, then he nods once before leaving.

Dom clenches his fists and fights back this strange sense of overwhelming frustration. “I have to go and see Kayde,” he announces but doesn’t wait for a response from Mathur or Evan. There’s something nagging at him, and Dom has the distinct feeling that waiting will be the death of them all.

“Do you ever sleep?” Dom asks, leaning against the doorframe to the lab. He watches as Kayde looks up with bleary eyes and blinks. Twice.

“Ah, Dom. Have at it.” She gestures to her hair that sticks out of a haphazard bun at spikey angles. It’s like she’s waiting for him to quip at her.

Dom finally understands the urge to bite one’s tongue. “Believe it or not, I’m not here for that.”

Kayde’s expression softens. “There’s no audience here at the moment anyway.” There’s a tinge of sadness not only in her voice, but in the way her eyes tear up briefly, in the sag to her shoulders.

Dom watches the strange change to her. “You’re worried about something?”

Kayde keeps studying the specimen under her microscope. “You are always so observant, Dom.”

Despite not knowing exactly where he stands with her, Dom knows Kayde is the reason they have more than just a chance. She’s the reason they’ve been as successful as they have been with infiltration. “Want to talk about it?”

Kayde glances up from the microscope, a slight smile tugging at her lips. She seems tired, rundown, and yet somehow composed. “It would take more time than we have. I’m just struggling with my many hats and with being stuck in a lab while my friends are dying.”

Dom raises his eyebrows. “Sai isn’t dying. It’s just an abrasion.”

Kayde laughs. “I know she’s fine—she’s stronger than that. But she’s not what I’m worrying about.”

Dom relaxes a tad and frowns. “Everyone else is.” It comes out almost like a grumble, and Dom wonders for a moment what it is about other people fussing over Sai that makes him irritable.

“Sai is stronger than most of us. But Iria…” And as she says the name, Kayde’s voice breaks slightly and she looks away, over at the pile of readers in a corner. When she turns back to Dom, he can see the tears brimming in her eyes have shed a couple of drops, and her face holds a sadness he can’t even fathom.

“Iria is gone. Trikel is gone. Whole Mobile settlements are gone. How many more of us before this is over, Dom?” She clips the slide out from under the microscope, and Dom can hear it crack as she slams it on the table. “How many dominos will we lose? We’ve already lost one and it didn’t even have a name!”

Her breath comes in a quick, fast, almost pained cadence, and she slams her fist into the table this time. “I’m not like you. I’m not like Sai. I can’t channel this through physical exertion. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t unload. I’ll get the Ebony for you.”

She turns to go, and Dom reaches out to catch her arm. Her eyes open wide as she’s swung slightly to face him, and he squeezes in what he hopes is a reassuring manner.

“You’re doing more important things so we can complete what we all set out to do. What you accomplish?” And he makes sure she’s focused directly on him before he finished. “Makes sure that no one’s death will be in vain.”

Kayde sucks in a breath that’s more like a gasp, and several tears snake their way down her face. When she speaks, her voice is stronger and her jaw sets stubbornly. “You’re right, and it’s what I can do, so I’ll do it well. Thank you.”

“Of course,” he says, hands back by his side, a strangely warm feeling emanating from the center of his chest. It feels like there should be more, though, as he watches Kayde retrieve the canisters for distribution, handling them delicately.

“I’m sorry for your pain,” Dom adds because somehow it seems appropriate.

Kayde actually smiles softly. “Thanks, Dom. I realize this stuff is difficult for you.” She folds the canisters neatly into padded containers marked with PC numbers and then drops them into a huge bag. “You’ll need to come back for the last few before you leave. I’m almost done with them.”

He takes the bags off her and feels extremely awkward. “Thanks.

This time Kayde laughs. She claps her hands together and smiles brightly. “Do you need something else?”

“No, not really.” Dom looks around, glad that the emotional moments seem to be in the past. He pauses at the door and grins, suddenly liking Kayde a lot more than before. “I came down with the explicit intent to torment you, but you’re right. It’s just not as fun without an audience.”

He can still hear her laughter halfway down the hall.

Dom is loading the first batch of Ebony into Mele’s hold when the salvage mission returns. He pokes his head out and catches James’s eye. “You’re back rather early.”

“It was closer than we thought.” He glances at the transport as two of his men are carried out on gurneys. “There were some Damascus left over to stand guard. Got a couple of my men before we could destroy them.” He scowls and turns to Dom. “Tell me Mathur has that infernal device ready? I’m sick of mopping up the bits and pieces of my friends and their kids.”

“We all are.” Dom puts his hands up in front of him and waits for James to sigh and crick his neck from side to side.

“I know.” James runs a hand through his spikey hair. “I’ll go brief them.”

Dom watches him walk away, an echo of melancholy drifting back to him.

For some reason Dom keeps finding himself waiting—waiting for a huge explosion again, like the one Ash caused when she pulled in on herself while practicing. Sometimes it seems like they’re just fighting fire with fire. Which, despite the old human saying, has never made much sense. Shouldn’t you fight fire with water or maybe suffocation?

He hears Mathur and Dael coming long before they get there, but somehow can’t solve the conundrum in his head. When he turns to greet his visitors, he asks. “Why fight fire with fire?”

Mathur blinks. “What?”

“Why fight fire with the same thing? Why not water? It doesn’t make sense.”

Mathur stifles a laugh. “You have always tried to make sense out of clichés. There is no sense to be had—it is why they are clichéd.”

“You make no sense either,” Dom grumbles and gets back to storing his cargo. One more day. Dael silently helps him. No questions, no communication, and no fuss. Dom could get used to this.

“You’re heading out at dusk tomorrow?”

Dom nods.

“Dael will help you prepare. There are some elements of Mele they would like to inspect, as they are developing a prototype plan for a similar transport.” Mathur’s smile is wide, jolly almost.

Dom glances at his sibling and grins. “Got it all figured out?”

Dael smiles back. “More than I thought I would. Although, I confess, sometimes when I talk with people, I feel like I mimic them. As if I’m trying to copy part of them and become it.”

“It isn’t mimicry.” Dom shakes his head to try and lend emphasis. “It’s your way of learning. You’ll take bits and pieces from everyone you meet and then, at some stage, hone it into your very own personality. I know I did.”

Dael nods, their face crinkling in what must be concentration. “That explains a lot of things and makes my mind feel less conflicted.” They pull up the last set of cylinders gently and deposit them in the hold securely next to the others. “I will have those schematics to you tonight. Mele needs a tune-up, so Evan and I will tweak her before you leave, if that is acceptable.”

“Perfect.” Dom closes Mele’s door and watches Dael leave the room with a purposeful stride.

“It is like they have a new lease on life.” Mathur’s voice is soft enough that it’s unlikely Dael can hear him.

“Amazing.” Dom frowns, several thoughts battling in his mind for dominance as he turns to face Mathur. “Have they all adjusted this well?

Mathur shakes his head. “Only Evan and Dael so far. But the rest are still…finding their footing. It is a process.”

Dom runs the words through his head. It definitely was a process for him when he was younger. To think they all should have gone through this, but he was the only one lucky enough to have accomplished it earlier. Probably because Mathur left him to fend for himself.

“So…” Mathur claps his hands. “I need you to do something for me.”

Dom crosses his arms and leans against Mele. “Do tell.”

Mathur opens his mouth, and clears his throat before turning back to his son. “Mason gets a distinct impression from Sai’s dream that there should be a way for you to slip in there and actually speak to Bastian. It’s going to be dangerous, but it’s going to be necessary. We have to know, Dom.”

“Know what?”

“If these messages are really coming from him in the dreams or if they have some way of connecting through him and screwing with Sai.” Mathur looks directly at him, waiting for an answer.

“You think they could be hijacking his telepathy and…” Suddenly it dawns on Dom. All those people chained up in the labs, strapped to their beds as the last psionic and life energies are drained from their bodies. What’s stopping them from doing that to Bastian and using him to contact the Exiled? “I get it. Using him. They could be using him in an entirely different way than normal. Even if it’s highly unlikely.” Dom can’t help the building aggression. The parasite coaxes his anger, his uncertainty, trying to bait him into the red zone.

Mathur’s brow furrows. “It is more of a worst-case scenario, but a possibility nevertheless. If it is not too much trouble?”

Dom levels a glare at his creator. “Sarcastic old bastard.”

Mathur shrugs. “True, but at least I am honest.”

“To a fault.” Dom pushes away and flexes. He dislikes staying in one place too long. “I get it. Load Mele, check on Bastian, and then complete the rest of the mission, correct?”

“Correct.”

“We’ll leave tomorrow morning.” Dom smiles despite himself.

“Will Sai be well enough?” Mathur’s concern is sweet.

Dom shakes his head. “I really don’t know. But we have to get going, so she has to be well enough.”

It doesn’t take Dom long to find Dael and Evan. They’re both in one of the conference rooms that was sequestered for domino quarters after the first infiltration of Central.

For a few moments he just stands at the door, feeling slightly awkward and awed at the same time. The other dominos seem so…close.

“You going to stand there all day or come in?” Evan doesn’t even look up, but a ripple of amusement spreads quickly through the room. Even Dom feels it.

As he moves closer, he can see all of the numbers on the upper left of their chests, near their shoulders. They’re fainter than they were, like they have to erase their old identities and it’ll take some time to realize their true selves.

Thirty-Two, Nineteen and Twenty-One are helping Dael and Evan. Without turning around, Dael introduces them as Erin, Nate, and Joe accordingly. When Dom stops, mulling the last name over, Dael laughs. “We know, but he liked Joe. Not exactly the most memorable name.”

“No name is until we have a reason to remember it for,” Dom murmurs before really thinking about it.

“Too true.” Dael goes back to fiddling with the transport engine components in front of them.

Dom watches in fascination as Dael shapes their fingers in ways that reflect tools. “What are you doing?”

“Figuring out a few things to help modify the current transports better for daylight travel.”

The atmosphere in the room is calm, but excited somehow—it’s catching.

“You head out in the morning.” Dael doesn’t ask the question, merely states the fact, but the way they wait in silence makes Dom think they really wanted confirmation.

“Yes. We do.”

“How is Sai?” asks Evan, this time looking up from his work, an odd sort of smile on his face. It takes Dom a second to realize it’s probably supposed to be concern. Not quite there yet.

“She’s fine. She’s healed up enough and will be fit to travel.”

“I didn’t mean the scarring. I meant her mental state.”

Silence descends on the room for a few seconds. A few seconds which are truly uncomfortable for Dom. “I don’t…”

“Oh, sorry.” Evan bows his head and Dael steps in.

“What he means is…” They pause briefly. “When we could hear more than just feel like we can now—she was special. Something about her. She never treated you like everyone else did. Never has treated us with the fear and loathing we see in other’s eyes. Whether it’s a remnant of people’s hostilities toward our cousins or not—Sai has never held anything against us, especially you.”

Dael pauses, as if gathering their words, and Dom wonders if they realize how well they’re using contractions. “Sai is special to all of us. Not only because of how she is, but what she represents: an understanding. We can tell that she’s hurting and scared.”

“How?” Dom knew he could—he’d always been able to—but he wasn’t sure how the rest of them were able to do so.

Evan opens his mouth and closes it before deciding to speak. “You. We can feel it because you notice it.”

“We were connected once.” Dael lets the words, the full realization hang in the air. “Just because they didn’t understand what they were doing with the communications channels doesn’t mean they completely misunderstood our abilities. Part of the psionic DNA extracted for us is telepathy. There’s really nothing they can do to change that.”

“And the adrium only funnels that.” Dom smiles tightly with the realization that he should have noticed this much earlier. It makes him worry about what’s happening to Sai. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”

For a second Dael watches him thoughtfully. “I think you know she will be. I do believe in that.”

“I’m glad one of us does then.” Dom stretches out on the floor, the way the rest of them are. It’s oddly relaxing being around people who completely understand him. “This is strange for me.”

“It has always just been you before, even when we were connected. So it makes sense that it would be.” It’s the first time Joe has spoken, and even as he speaks, Dom knows the name is wrong for him—but you can’t tell a person that. He smiles.

“Strange but nice, though?” Evan asks, almost timidly.

“Definitely nice. I now understand how Aishke makes Sai feel—it’s a comfort level.” He leans his head back and looks at the ceiling. “Are you still confident about fighting with us?”

“What do you mean?” Dael’s tone has changed slightly, almost tinged with annoyance.

“With all of your individuality coming to the fore, with your beliefs becoming your own and your own sense of self and preservation developing—do you still feel this is a fight you want? Or does it feel out of reach, out of touch, none of your business?”

No one speaks, and even though he’s fully aware that they’re all mulling over what he’s said, it almost seems unfair of him to have asked it. Before he can retract his question, though, Dael speaks up.

“Sai took us with her when they withdrew from Central. That is more respect for us and the lives we have than the GNW ever showed. And they created us. So if you are to ask me, will we still fight? I would say yes for one simple reason. The GNW do not deserve to have power in their hands. It’s been there for too long and they’ve become complacent. What once might have been good intentions have decayed into monstrosities. They are not fit for rule. Let the people find another way themselves.”

Dael sighs deeply and reaches down to what is apparently going to be Mele’s new console. “Does that answer your question?”

Dom smiles. “Perfectly.”

Dael and Evan work so well together, it’s almost like intruding on them to help, but it doesn’t take long for Dom to feel a part of their synchronous workings. Adjusting some of Mele’s settings and giving her a new navigation center makes more sense than Dom ever thought it would. He always thought she was perfect.

Not so, though. These minor changes and improvements will cut time off their journey, reinforce her connection with her central systems, and make her cloaking process much easier and less detectable.

“What do you think?” Dael stands back with him to survey the effect of their work. It’s not that outwardly visible; there are only subtle hints. But to Dom it’s like new life has been breathed into her.

“Perfect.” He smiles. “Really outdid yourselves with those schematics.”

Evan shrugs and comes over to join them. “The sooner you are back, the sooner the people wake up. The faster the GNW will be brought to justice and the quicker we can all get on with our lives.”

“When you put it that way…” Dom leaves it hanging and smiles. Evan is very exact in his thoughts. It shows in the design, but Dael has raw talent when it comes to actual implementation. In another time, they’d be famous.

“Dom?”

He whirls around. “Sai, I said I’d help when you were ready.”

She crosses her arms, scowls at him, and shrugs. “I got a scratch.”

“A poisonous, up-your-whole-side scratch,” Dom corrects her, biting down on irritation.

She levels a glare at him and then looks at Mele, wonder in her eyes. “What did you do—she’s so sparkly!”

“Sparkly?” Kayde leads a group of dominos and Ebony-stocked pallets into the bay.

Sai scowls at her friend. “Shiny, then.”

Kayde shrugs at her and Sai laughs. “I really need to get back out there. Training and recuperating in here while we could be out there…doesn’t sit well with me.” She winks at Dom as she stows her bag in the back. “I’m not sure what you’ve done, but Mele feels happy. Blissful, almost. We’ll have a happy ship this trip.”

“Yet another thing about you.” He watches her more intently now after the conversations with the other dominos. They were right.

“Mmm?” She cranes her neck slightly. “What was that?”

He smiles down, the expression soft. “You even understand Mele.”

Sai’s face lights up with another smile. The bags that were under her eyes two days ago are gone, and her skin glows fresh and healthy.

“The adrium connections still working solidly after all the climbing then?”

She nods. “Yeah, they’re not pulling at me as much. Jeffries had me go through rigorous mental exercises to trigger the adrium into morphing quicker for me.”

“That’ll definitely help our next few stops then.” He winks at her. “Unless you’re not up to it yet?”

“Of course I am! A thousand times. Two days of downtime and I’m raring to go.” She pauses for a minute, and a flush passes over her face. The blush is so fast he would have missed it if he’d blinked, but she stands up on her tiptoes and kisses his cheek. “Thank you, Dom.”

His hand touches the place she kissed involuntarily, the strange sensation of her flesh against his own skin feeling welcome and needed. “For what?”

“For being there and being you.” Her eyes sparkle briefly with a real happiness that suffuses Dom’s system.

He laughs. “Being me is not something I can avoid, and being here is not something I want to avoid.”

“Good.” She secures the bag and goes to help them position the canisters in the hold. Or maybe to torment Kayde—Dom can never be sure.

“She likes you.” Mason has an odd habit of popping up where Dom least expects him and often least wants him to be.

If Dom could blush, he’d probably do so about now, but as he can’t, he’s stuck with responding. “Of course she likes me. I crushed her legs and made it so she had to get adrium grafts. I’m pretty sure she secretly loves me.”

“Come on, Dom.” Mason grins, but the effect is oddly skeletal with his sunken cheeks. “With layers of sarcasm that thick, you’re not fooling anyone.”

“Only trying to fool myself. It’s no one else’s business.” Dom grins at Mason’s stunned face. Admission is probably not what he was expecting, but Dom’s getting too irritated with the constant innuendo to bother being subtle.

Unexpectedly, Mason claps him on the back. “Fair enough. There are sometimes I forget you’re so much of your own person, and I remember the you I despised as my younger brother’s playmate and how you drew attention to him. Do you remember the looks you got? Do you remember the way everyone reacted to you?”

Dom feels his temper rise, feels the parasite rising to the call—testing, needing and trying to break free, all to be dashed on the rocks with Mason’s next words.

“You show them. Show them you were always far more worthy than they were. We’re going to show them we’re all much more than a tool or a pawn.” Mason smiles at Dom before the expression breaks and he hacks for several seconds. “I’m glad Bastian has you, and Sai is good for both of you—you’ve mellowed. If we all make it through to the other side of this, I’ll teach you to drink beer.”

“Exiled and proud?” Dom holds out his hand in the timeless gesture.

“Exiled and proud,” Mason echoes, shaking his hand and laughing.

Aishke blinks at them, suddenly standing close. “I need to steal Mason away from you, Dom. He has training he’s been shirking for two days. If he doesn’t keep it up, he’s going to kill our entire group next time we’re sent out.” There’s a smile in her eyes despite her words, and Mason takes his leave.

Before she leaves, Ash lays a hand on Dom’s arm. “You take care of her. She might need you, but I need her. Don’t let her get hurt again, Dom.”

“I don’t plan to.”

Ash looks into his eyes for a few moments before finally nodding and leaving. She’s gone as fast as she arrived, leaving Dom to wonder if he’s been missing something all along.

The silence of Mele’s engines is a beautiful sound. Its slight hum is only audible if you focus on it.

“She’s purring like a kitten.” Sai runs her hands over the new navigation panels. Thousands of little lights and tiny switches, most of which are Mele operating herself. She really only needs to be guided.

Dom watches as her fingers caress the dashboard with care. “I like that analogy.”

“Me too.”

They lapse into silence until Sai takes a deep breath and speaks. “They’re making you check on Bastian even though he told us not to?”

Dom keeps his gaze straight ahead. “Yes.”

“With the tightened security, we can’t even get in to Central to place the Ebony.” There’s concern in her voice and something else. Maybe irritation. “How do you plan to get to Bastian?”

“With the new equipment, Mele is practically undetectable. You’ll be perfectly safe in here.” He hopes to ease the tension rising in the small cockpit.

Sai clucks her tongue, irritation shining through in abundance now. “Safe isn’t exactly what was bothering me.”

Dom risks a side glance at her. “Oh?”

“He told me to tell you not to come. He specifically told me to tell you that. I don’t think he was using reverse psychology.”

“Sai, I have to do this.” He tries to keep his voice calm.

She scowls at him. “No, you don’t. Everyone trusts me to train us, to lead us, but no one trusts my judgment with this? It’s him. I know it’s him.” She twists in her seat, and he gets the full weight of her gaze.

Dom chooses not to speak, probably not his wisest decision ever.

She leans back in her chair, eyes never leaving his. Her voice is soft, with a hint of resentment when she speaks again. “He’s been in my head enough for me to know him.”

It’s hard to look her in the eyes and lie, so he doesn’t. “I know he has, and I know you think you know, but I have to be sure.” Even if he’s starting to second guess that decision.

“Fine.” She leans down to pick up her reader and throws herself back into her seat. “Go then. I don’t care. If you get caught, make sure Mele knows I can drive her to escape.”

It’s the last thing she says to him before he leaves. For the entire drive and as he’s getting ready to head out. Her face, softly illuminated by the damn reader in her hands, is closed to him for the first time in so long he can’t remember.

Even as he slinks out from his transport, he wonders if maybe he shouldn’t be going. But there’s something inside that won’t let up, and it has nothing to do with Mathur and Mason’s requests. Dom frowns as he works his way through the city and into the central filtration area. Security is about as tight as it was, which is surprising. Or else they’re fairly certain that since they caught Bastian, they can catch anyone. A small smile plays on Dom’s lips.

If he remembers correctly, Sai mentioned something like that. The whole situation irritates him beyond belief. She’s right, of course. They should trust her by now. He should trust her by now.

Part of him can completely understand where her indignation is coming from, but the other part has to see for himself. After all, he’s known Bastian for longer than he’s known anyone. They were the closest thing they each had to a friend. If he didn’t go and check on him personally…

Still, though, creeping through the underbelly of the facility and making his way to the top is difficult. If the information Sai has been fed is anything to go by, there’s no way he can creep through that passageway. It’s up through the bowels and into the main halls he has to go.

The parasite pushes at him, nudges him, encourages recklessness. It’s like a constantly hungry bear with a gaping maw. He can’t give in to it because not only will people die, but he might never be able to reel himself back in.

The labs underneath Central are bustling, but the people walk through them with their heads down, focused on their readers. Several of them have eyes that flicker through blue and green, only vaguely seeing past the files they’re sorting through their ocular implants. No one notices him. In fact, the more difficult element of this equation is to squeeze past them as they walk two and three abreast down the halls.

For one second he thinks he’s caught when someone with a nametag of Harrison bumps into him and stops to whirl around with his mouth open in indignation. Dom crouches and moves slowly away. The man blinks, spins once more, shrugs, and goes on his way. It’s only a few moments, but they’re enough to make Dom more cautious.

The real test is the full patrol stationed directly outside Bastian’s quarters. All four soldiers and their Hound. And the Hound is the one that poses the problem. Or it should. Dom frowns as he walks close enough to touch it, blending perfectly. It smells like rotten meat, the skin hanging loosely like stretched and worn leather, like it was embalmed. It stretches over the cheekbones so taut that it cracks in places, allowing a sliver of white bone to peek through with the occasional droplet of red-brown ooze. The repugnant smell is only amplified when it breathes out, and Dom knows that if he had a gag reflex, it would long have been triggered.

But instead of sensing him, instead of alerting the patrol surrounding it, the Hound just stares through him. Not a muscle twitch in its face betrays the fact that it may have noticed him.

The huge doors swing inward, and Bastian walks out, accompanied a few meters behind by one huge lieutenant. Dom watches the patrol fall into line behind Bastian and thanks his good fortune before slipping into the office quarters undetected.

The only difference in Bastian’s office is the addition of three new camera signals. Bastian wasn’t kidding when he said he was being watched. Relief floods Dom as he realizes using the passageway caused a lot of problems when the camera caught the invisible door in the wall suddenly opening.

He finishes his sweep of the living area, noting three vantage points where the cameras don’t quite reach perfectly. Dom wracks his brains for some of the games they used to play as children. The ones where they’d leave messages for each other than no one else would ever be able to understand.

He frowns and notices a jacket hanging precariously on a hook at the front of the living area. Assisting its fall from the hook, he manages to place the right and left arms up and to the left, in a mimicry of an age-old song called “Thriller’s Dance.” It’d been his way of telling Bastian he was there if he needed him. Something lurking in the dark.

To the cameras, nothing would be amiss. Dom sits back and waits, running through the myriad of Ebony canisters they still need to deliver and the delivery methods in his head. Four to five days left, depending… Although the longer he waits, the more obvious it is that Sai was completely right. A fact he will have to apologize for as soon as he sees her again.

When the office doors open, Dom can hear quiet steps sinking into the carpet as Bastian nears his living quarters and hesitates briefly before stopping and turning to the lieutenant following him.

“I feel unwell. I will try a bath and may need the infirmary if my stomach doesn’t ease up.”

“Yes.” The sound is grating, like fingernails on a chalkboard—really long fingernails at that.

“Thanks.” Bastian walks into his living area and glances around, tsking with exasperation at the coat on the ground. He makes a show of picking it up and dusting it off before throwing it over the back of his chair and flopping into said chair in a beautifully artistic manner facing one of the three camera-blind spots.

Dom doesn’t say anything. Hee just appears and grins. Bastian buries his head in his hands, and from the rise and fall of his shoulders, Dom is pretty sure he’s laughing. “Damn it, I feel ill,” he mumbles into his hands and stands up, half-staggering to the bathroom.

It’s more of a drunken stagger than a sick one, but it does the job for anyone watching. Dom follows his friend into the bathroom, feet absorbing the sound, and waits while the man turns the precious water on and makes obvious noises of being sick.

“Dom,” he whispers in between retching. “That tap shuts off in eight minutes. Make it fast. What the fuck are you doing here?”

“They wanted me to check if you were okay. We wanted to make sure the visits weren’t a trap.” The words sound hollow when he says them out loud.

“Did she not tell you or did you all just not listen?” Bastian’s whisper is angry, so much that he stops and checks his volume.

“We listened. I just…wanted to see for myself.”

Bastian closes his eyes for a second before opening them. The remnant of a welt remains on his face, marring the perfection that preceded it. “I contact Sai because she has the same wavelength, and I’ve been in her head numerous times to teach her. Her walls are far too tight for anyone not uniquely linked to her to penetrate them. I am fine here. I will do what I can when I can and find out what I can, but we can’t risk anyone coming to see me or visit me.” He glares pointedly at Dom until Dom looks away. “You trying to see me could end with me dead. They think I was trying to save the people by stopping the Damascus before they could malfunction. I let them believe that. I’ve fostered it. I’m under lock and key. I’m chipped for crying out loud.”

Bastian sighs and pushes his hair out of his eyes. “You don’t get to play spy anymore, Dom. This is serious. This is dangerous for all of us, and I can’t get caught again. When the time comes, get Sai to reach out to me. I’ll be at full strength and can help from within. If there’s anything I can do, I’m doing it now. But don’t come back until you’re ready to storm the gates and free every person in this damned country.”

Dom looks at the worry lines around his eyes, the few strands of grey marring that perfect hair—and he nods. “The other dominos are functional now. It shouldn’t be much longer, Bastian. Hold on here.”

“I don’t have much choice. You tell my brother not to forget to take care of himself. And if Sai says she has a message from me, then she has a message from me. Now go. I have crap to do here.”

Dom nods and moves to the side so Bastian can finish his pretense of bathing, deliberately looking away.

“I’ll figure out a way to get you out.”

Once fully dressed again, Bastian walks out to the living area. “I have nothing for my headache. I need something.”

The lieutenant watches him for a moment and nods almost imperceptibly. A few minutes later there’s a knock at the door which the lieutenant answers, perfectly timed so Dom can slip through the crack and be on his way.

It doesn’t take him long to get back to Sai, and the sun isn’t even a glimpse on the horizon. All he does is step inside, hug her, and pull back to look at her eyes. “I’m sorry, and you were right. Of everyone, I should have believed you.”

There’s a smile that plays around her lips, and she doesn’t try to wriggle out of his loose hold. Her skin is warm against the smooth coolness of his own, and her words push away at the encroaching darkness that’s been nibbling at his consciousness since Bastian berated him.

“Just you remember that.” Her tone is happy, and the hard lines around her eyes soften as she gives him a quick hug back and then picks her reader back up. “We should probably get to our next stop then.”

Dom couldn’t agree more. He switches Mele to drive mode and sets the course.

Bastian swallows the tablets with tepid water and stands watching where the door closed just out of the view of the lieutenant. Dom got through. That he got into the apartment in the first place is a miracle, but then Dom always was a devious little bugger.

The apartment feels lonely, even though Dom was only with him for ten minutes. Sai isn’t going to drop in and say hello or ask for a lesson. It’s strange that she was only there for a few months and that he got so used to her. Dom can’t come by just to chat or discuss the things he doesn’t understand.

Not to mention the fact it appears he’s missing out on some of his best friend’s growth. Dom isn’t the same anymore, but then again, neither is Bastian. He smiles and makes himself a cup of cocoa, not exactly in the mood to sleep anymore. Shine in the sweetener bowl was a brilliant idea, hiding in plain sight. He just has to make the last of his stash last until this is all over.

Apathy creeps in for a moment, and all Bastian wants to do is relax.

It sounds like the Exiled are getting ready to strike back and strike hard. As much as he said he didn’t want Dom here, as much as he told his friend off, even that tiny bit of outside contact buffers against the crap inside these walls.

Knowing the Exiled are close, haven’t been overrun, aren’t giving up is comforting. Bastian bows his head and a sudden bone-weariness seeps in. It’s only been a few days of saying yes to everything, of only offering up an opinion when it’s sought about the school students, of clenching his fists when Zach decides to be reckless about lives.

The only thing getting him through this is the thought that maybe, just maybe they’ll take them all with them in the end. Even if the Exiled fail, if they could just wipe out the GNW in the process, the people left behind might have a fighting chance.

When he starts to feel morbid, it’s time to throw in the towel. Taking his own advice has never been one of Bastian’s strengths, but tonight he manages it anyway.

The following morning sees a bright new day. At least the sun is beautiful outside, hidden behind protective windows and the shielding of the dome. “Not like it ever rains anymore,” Bastian chuckles as he pulls on his coat, feeling renewed and invigorated and completely ignoring the tilt of the lieutenant’s head in his direction.

The boardroom is empty when he arrives, which is good. He likes to arrive first. No matter how chained they have him to their sides, it still seems intimidating. It also makes sure he has at least one enjoyable moment every day—the chagrin on Zach’s face when he realizes he’s not the first one there. For some obscure reason, it’s something Zach prides himself on.

As if on cue, Zach heralds the entrance of the rest of them, with Deign bringing up the rear, her feet perfectly poised in impossibly high heels. Thought to be archaic by almost every other female Bastian has ever met, Deign lives to push the boundaries, and today Nimue accompanies her.

Bastian scrutinizes the girl in as subtle a way as possible. Her eyes appear a little sunken, and her hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail, giving her face a drawn appearance. She seems pale, and he tugs his gloves down, grateful for having chosen to wear them today, even if he knows she’ll only try something under duress.

Deign clears her throat and smoothes her expression, not a telltale twitch to give away anything about her real mood. “There’s good and bad news today. Good news first. I’ll give Owen the floor.”

Owen stands. In the last couple of months, he still hasn’t managed to fill out the jacket. The way he stands in front of the board is in direct juxtaposition to his confidence when he was alone with Bastian the other day. His owlish eyes still seem scared behind the thick lenses of his black-rimmed glasses, but the confidence he has when he speaks about his work makes him appear more like a sort of mad professor.

“For the last few days, I’ve been running several upgrades through the tune-up line.” He refers to his notes and frowns a bit as if only just remembering that he had indeed done what is written down.

“All of the original Damascus are receiving improvements as their patrols come in, but I can only manage two patrols a week.” He looks up from his notes with an apologetic frown in Deign and Zach’s general vicinity, but doesn’t wait to make eye contact. “So far we’re on our third patrol. This allows us to replace older material, since they’re verging on thirty-five years of age.”

Harlow clears her throat, the flickering in her eyes stilling for a moment while she speaks. “What do these upgrades entail?”

“Good question!” And the funny thing is that Owen sounds genuinely happy someone asked the question because it gives him a chance to explain what he’s doing. “You see—” He motions to Bastian’s pet lieutenant and indicates the plating where the neck meets the head. “—this is where a bunch of wires connect and filter down through the remaining metal and adrium components of the Damascus body. This plating isn’t refined as much as it should be. The rivets are too big, it should be soldered, and the way it was originally attached leaves them vulnerable where they should not be. The new process allows for this repair.”

He waves the lieutenant back to its place and continues eagerly. “I’ve also made sure their visual cortex is upgraded and not just through their connection, but in their actual visual base. Should give them about a forty-five percent improvement over the fifty percent improvement I’d already made.”

There’s nothing smug about Owen. He just truly loves and believes in his work that much. It makes Bastian wish he’d had time to win him over to their side, but the diamond-in-the-rough didn’t even surface until his predecessors were dead. He curses Dom for killing Davies and his henchman, even if it is slightly understandable.

“Also, I’ve surrounded the hip plating with a gel insert. It’s not a huge improvement in performance, but some of the compounds separating the hip from the adrium leg joint had worn out. It’s why some of our patrols were a bit squeaky.”

“These are all improvements to the current models, yes?” Markus looks over the information forwarded to all their readers with a frown. “These specifications are highly different than what you’ve just described. These…sound downright dangerous for us.”

Owen shakes his head, a momentary hard line setting his expression, but it’s gone when he speaks. “They’re not dangerous. Never dangerous. I wouldn’t put our people in danger.”

Bastian blinks. Owen’s tone is almost venomous, like there’s something much deeper driving him. He chalks it up for later thought.

“Those are the modifications for the new lines of Damascus we’re producing. We can regenerate one full patrol per week. That’s it.” Owen glances at Deign before continuing. “At the rate we’re losing current patrols, I’d have to be producing four patrols per week to even attempt to compensate. Add to that the fact that I’d have to have more machines built to create them, and we’re at a month-long delay before I could produce more.”

Markus shrugs and puts the reader down. “Then why are we wasting resources on these?”

Owen blinks, the thick lenses making his eyes appear comical. “Wasting resources? I’m sorry, I don’t understand the question.”

Harlow steps back in, her tone less patronizing than Markus’. “He means why are we creating new ones at all? Why not just repair what we have, given their history?”

Owen smiles. “Because the new ones are better, more superior. The whole concept behind designing something is to improve on it. And that’s just what we’re doing.”

Markus scowls. “Improving killing machines.”

There’s a silence in the room, accentuated only by the soft whir as the lieutenant in the room moves its head.

Owen persists. “These Damascus are created with visual cortexes enhanced more than double that of the refurbished Damascus model. Their joints are cushioned, their kernel is reinforced, not to mention steel plating surrounding vital areas. No danger of rust, and they’re practically impervious to the sun’s heat with the new metal.”

“Why can’t you do that for the current model?” Deign asks.

“It’s difficult to adapt metal already in key positions.” Owen adjusts his glasses, and not for the first time, Bastian wonders why the man wears them. “Not all parts of them are removable.”

Bastian bites the inside of his lip, but this time it’s to prevent laughing. There’s some strange part of him that doesn’t want to upset Owen. His intelligence sometimes borders on scary.

“There are many structural and minor improvements as well, but those are the main ones. They’ll be harder to defeat, more difficult to counter, and their scanning abilities are increased, too.” He looks around expectantly, his eyes shining with eagerness. “Questions?”

Bastian’s mind screams at him to ask why Owen is improving them. Does he not realize the GNW need to be stopped and not aided? But he clamps down on it and keeps his expression impassive. His core beckons to him. Doesn’t he want to let Sai know? Why not now? He fights the need to access it, to savor that sweet fullness of power, and attempts to concentrate on the rest of the meeting.

Deign smiles and stands up. “Thanks, Owen.”

She doesn’t seem to notice how his face falls as he sits back in his chair to be swallowed by his overcoat and blend into insignificance again. A shiver runs down Bastian’s spine at how Owen’s brand of invisibility eerily mimics the dominos.

“And now, the bad news.” All the pretentiousness vanishes from her voice. She’s talking to them as equals. It’s how Bastian knows something is seriously wrong. “Bastian, what could be causing the grid’s influence to wane?”

Bastian blinks up at her. “Excuse me?” Out of everything it could have been, he really didn’t think they’d be onto this so quickly.

“The psionic grid.” She clucks her tongue, eyes narrowing. “It seems to be losing effectiveness in some of the outlying PCs. How could it be failing?”

He blinks again and sits up straighter, desperately trying to figure out a way to head this off without letting it reflect in his words or his expression. “I don’t think I quite understand. It’s not possible for it to fail. The only way it’s ever less successful is if a dormant gene is encountered, and let’s face it—over the last several decades those are dwindling. If there’s a gene at all, we usually end up with a psionic.”

“Any thoughts?” She sighs and he can see from the way her eyes narrow that he needs to say something, because Deign’s patience is wearing thin and, if he’s not careful, she might start looking in the right places.

“It’s set up to focus in on any resistance, dormant or otherwise. As long as the grids are being directed by the people we chose together, there shouldn’t be a problem. Focusing that much power on difficult cases is the whole point.”

Deign grimaces. “I thought so. They swore they were doing their jobs, didn’t they, Nimue?”

Bastian studies Sai’s friend and finally sees what he didn’t when she first walked in—a welt to match his own down the side of Nimue’s face; the puffiness of her eyes, well-hidden by powder; and the tenderness with which she holds her side as she sits. Some Damascus lieutenant beat the crap out of her, too. It’s an effort not to cringe. He has to fight down a sudden rage because, hobbled by the chip and guard, it’s not going to benefit anyone. Nimue’s eyes flicker back and forth, making contact with nothing but the floor. The girl nods in response, bravely not showing how much pain she must be in. Her eyes only meet Bastian’s briefly, but he can tell, just from that glimpse, how much she wants to rebel, how much she is keeping under wraps. In an odd way, it lends him strength. If she maintains her loyalty to Sai, even with Deign breathing down her neck, Bastian can fight, too.

Deign’s breath has a faint peppermint heat to it as she leans in closer. “Any ideas?”

“Not off the top of my head. Have any of them had a change of drinking water chemicals or food sources? Do we have any new variations of shine hitting the streets?” He tries to figure out how to delay them finding out what it is that’s actually been done.

Deign smiles. “Not that I know of, but I’ll have it investigated.”

“How many areas are affected?”

“Four of the outlying PCs from the reports we’ve received. The timing is highly inconvenient.” And now her tone makes sense. She’s not concerned; she’s irritated at the disruption. “We’ve always taken care of them before. You’d think they’d be grateful.”

The general murmur of consent around the table disgusts Bastian—except for one. He notices, hiding in the folds of his lab coat, the slight revulsion on Owen’s face. Maybe Owen isn’t quite as blind as those glasses make him seem.

“Could you interview some of them for me, Bastian? You probe minds better than anyone I know.”

While it’s meant to be a compliment, it leaves a bad taste on Bastian’s tongue. She’s the one who can project and detect emotions. His type of probing isn’t gentle. It rips into the mind, sieves through the memories with ruthless efficiency. The things he’s done in the name of the GNW for the sake of keeping up appearances makes him sick to his stomach. But he smiles and pushes the thoughts away.

“Of course I can. But if they’re doing what they’re supposed to, then there’s something else wrong. We just have to figure out what.”

Deign nods and dismisses the room.

Bastian stands, preoccupied. He may owe it to the Exiled and himself to see them all freed, but he got these children and colleagues into this mess. If he lets them get beaten to a pulp while following instructions from Deign, then the blood on his hands is still red and sticky.

Bastian cringes as he walks into the room to “interview,” as Deign so delicately put it, the people who are failing her. He knows they’re not at fault, and now he has to prove it, without giving the Exiled’s plan away.

“Hey,” he greets them softly, making sure his expression doesn’t betray his true feelings of revulsion toward the way they’re treated. He positions himself so they might see the remnants of his own treatment at Damascus hands. A sliver of solidarity might make fear permeate the room less. While he hand-picked every person who helps gently direct the grid, their contact was brief and he only knows them well on paper.

They relax visibly. The lieutenant standing in the corner doesn’t help the tension in the room, though. Bastian kicks himself for having attempted to set off the device when he did. He’s made his moves now so much more difficult to execute. So much could have been prevented. He would have had so much more freedom and one less scar. He’s never been a vain man, but everyone has their pride.

“I need you all to explain to me how it feels when you direct the grid now.”

The five in front of him just stare back. He knows their names, all of them. They range in age from Sai’s age with Nimue—though he wonders why Deign is using a tactile sensor for the grid—to Bastian’s age with Dirk. “I’m not here to punish you. I’m here to understand what it is that’s happening. I need you to let me in and to tell me how it is that what’s always been effective isn’t getting through anymore.”

Nimue clears her throat and glances at him. “Deign has had me checking them for honesty.”

It all becomes clear for a moment. In her wisdom, Deign is using Nimue as a traitor detector. He watches the girl for a moment. “What did you find?” He lowers his voice, keeps it soft and calm, and he thinks he spies a hint of a smile ghosting over her lips before she speaks.

“Nothing. They’ve been doing what they’ve always done.”

Carly, slightly older than Nimue, with a crazy-strong power of suggestion, speaks up. She could probably convince even Deign to side with the Exiled if she wasn’t so far under the older woman’s influence. “I don’t know.” She takes a breath to stop herself from tearing up and speaks in a shaky voice. “I do what I usually do—reach into the grid and lay a grounding of trust, the basis of belief and safety. Everyone affected feels these overwhelming emotions of calm. Yesterday and the day before, Bastian—nothing. There was nothing. My groundings were there, my preparations were perfect, but the furthest reaches didn’t seem affected. Anger and hurt pushed through instead, even after I ordered each PC to double-check. Nothing changed. It’s like they developed an immunity to it overnight.”

Which is pretty much how Ebony is supposed to work—to coat the mind in a shield so the suggestion will simply bounce off them. “And you’re sure about the grounding?”

Carly nods, and Dirk speaks in his slow and deliberate voice. “She’s right. I’ve seen her and watched her. After she thought she was sick because it wasn’t working, I observed her part of the grid. She usually covers more squares than others because of her strength. Even when we got her to concentrate on one, it didn’t work, Bastian. It’s the same for all of us. I have no answers, but we were hoping you might.”

Bastian smiles and tries to figure out ways to keep them from checking the air filtration systems. “We’re going to have to check a few things first.—new traders, new sources of food or water, perhaps some sort of flu or other virus.”

Carly nods again. “I was so scared I was broken. This is all I’ve ever had…” and this time she doesn’t swallow the tears. Nimue moves to console her. With her own empathy evident through touch, she can exert calm over Carly in more subtle ways.

“Give me a moment.” He takes a deep breath and seats himself in the chair. “I need to scan your minds and see if there’s anything we need to be worried about.”

“Mind-sifting?” Dirk speaks the words with a type of reverence, interlaced with a bit of fear.

Bastian nods. “It’s nothing drastic, but I want to make sure someone hasn’t been trying to influence you.” It’s the best he’s been able to come up with on short notice. “I need you to link hands with each other, and then with me.” Nimue slips her hand into his left, and he shoots her a warning immediately not to try anything. Carly’s grip is fierce, just like the girl.

“Ready?” They nod and close their eyes.

Touching each of their minds in turn, Bastian makes sure he’s there just long enough to appear to be checking them for any danger. He doesn’t force anything—there’s no need to hurt them to keep up a pretense. Instead, he quickly scans each of them for loyalty to the GNW. Only Dirk’s is solidly established. Carly wavers more than he thought she would, and Nimue obviously benefited from her time with Sai. The other two are only loyal to the jobs that keep them from being fuel for the grid.

He lets go and smiles, putting his gloves back on quickly. “This isn’t your fault. I’ll let Deign know there’s nothing wrong with your abilities. We have to look elsewhere.”

Now he has to warn Deign to communicate to the Damascus that the outer PCs are not Exiled and figure a way to keep the grid workers safe and out of the line of fire.

Sai flattens herself against the wall, willing both her legs and the very slight adrium sheen to her body armor to blend into it. Dom motions for her to shush as they both wait in the alleyway. Which, come to think of it, is far too narrow to be an alleyway. It’s really more of a crawlspace. She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to imagine a much larger place, tries to calm her breathing.

“Shield or stop thinking so loud.” Dom’s voice is barely above a whisper, so soft it could have been a sound carried with the wind.

She nods and clamps down on the bricks that make up her wall. There are no cracks, and she frowns at Dom having eavesdropped. Again. She pauses, watching for Dom’s signal, all the while completely certain that there’s something just not right about the whole situation.

“Now,” Dom breathes the word and moves out. She follows him, in tune with his shadow. He stops abruptly and motions to stay silent. Something moves up ahead, something big and noisier than anything else they’ve come across.

She holds perfectly still as a huge, skulking thing standing easily eight feet tall looks down the alleyway where they’re standing. It raises its face and appears to sniff the air for several long seconds. Sai tries not to move, to meld herself into the shadows. She can feel the familiar prickle at the base of her skull as the adrium parasite tickles at her thoughts. Only in times where she might react with fear, where she might just give in, does it try to get past her guard. At least, for now. The constant awareness is exhausting. She shakes her head to clear the thoughts and focuses on their stalker.

It stands in silhouette, and its features are a mystery to her. But it’s tall, and it’s a machine, and the whir of its gears plays a strange sort of staccato beat to her mind. Almost lulling, almost familiar, but just out of her grasp.

Apparently satisfied with what it does or doesn’t sense, it backs up, slinking, and grunts a few times. Human shapes gather around it, and there’s a distinct metallic clink as they walk brusquely away.

“Don’t see that every day,” she quips softly only to receive a glare from Dom.

“It’s adrium, vaguely Damascus. I really hope that’s not what I think it is.” His voice has a hollow sound to it, much like some of the dominos before they found themselves. If he’s that shaken up by their visitor and the patrols, then maybe there is a need to worry after all. Maybe this is Owen’s revision. She resists the urge to reach out and squeeze his hand because he doesn’t take well to it in the field. Dom looks around and nods.

They move out again, in perfect unison. She can barely make out the rear end of the patrol that’s moving away from them, which means they’re shorter on time than she thought. It’s difficult not to hyperventilate, not to panic, but she manages not to constantly refresh her wrist’s display.

The grate in this PC is on the ground, and she knows, with complete positivity, that the second patrol is about to turn the corner. She can feel it in the alien way they move, in the faint echo of their footfalls from the other alley. Jumping down into the beginning of the sewers, she allows her legs to absorb the impact and hopes that, as Dom pulls the cover back over the top of them, the smell masks their scent.

Moments later, metallic footfalls echo down to them. She moves quickly with Dom to the side of the huge drain that goes all the way through the center of the earth for all she knows. There’s barely time to leverage themselves to a holding spot as the footfalls clank over the lid they just shut. Her upper body aches, but Sai shrugs it off and refuses to let it bother her.

Falling is not an option.

The footsteps pause for a second that seems longer than all the hours they traveled from Alpha. Just when she thinks they won’t leave at all, their measured marching resumes. She sighs with relief and shimmies around in front of Dom, straining her shoulder muscles and refusing to look down as she approaches the sill to the ventilation shafts.

With several of these trips behind them now, she’s far more used to the climb. It still hurts, strains, and constantly challenges her, but now she can take the lead some of the time, which she’s much more comfortable with. She reaches out to grab the next sill just in time to hear another faint echo of a patrol about to pass overhead. This timing is getting far too close, and Sai’s heart sits in her throat. The constant anxiety is wearing down the barrier, and her parasite is slowly beating down the door. Would it really be so bad to just let it? Just for once? Let it feed off her core, catapult her power levels…

Dom clicks his fingers in front of her face, and she snaps out of her thoughts. He gestures to her pack, but Sai shakes her head. Neither of them know exactly what’s ahead; she might need the added advantage the spiked gloves lend her. Dom shrugs and phases through the two-fan ventilation shaft, leaving her in his wake.

The corridors in this facility are immaculate, and the constant patrols can be heard easily. It seems the closer they get to Central, the more difficult these infiltrations are becoming.

Simple even, but something tugs at the back of Sai’s mind and gives her a bad taste in her throat. Her blood runs cold, and she realizes she wants to do so much more than just knock them out.

She shakes her head again and bites back on the worry. Dom warned her about the parasite, but lately it’s becoming a struggle.

Dom takes the right, Sai takes the left, and the guards are unconscious before they even realize they’ve been grabbed. Sai lowers herself carefully and looks up at Dom, grinning widely. He shrugs and strikes a pose.

In the midst of a dangerous mission, it seems obscenely inappropriate, and Sai can’t help but stifle a laugh. He points to his wrist to indicate time and then to his lips for her to be quiet. She nods and watches as he checks the feed he’s looped in place for the monitors in these hallways. If they hadn’t known the cameras were there, they’d miss them every time. Sometimes Kayde’s information proves invaluable.

It’s amazing what technology can do these days. Even with some of it lost forever after the Disaster Era. She inches to the side and glances around the corner. The corridor is clear, and they have two more sets of guards to take care of.

The second set is just as easy as the first, and uneasiness settles in the bottom of her stomach like uncooked dough. Isn’t there a saying about things coming in threes?

Dom shrugs at her. “Don’t overthink it. Bastian would let you know if you were in danger.”

“Then why the patrols? Why that…thing?” Sai wrings her hands and doesn’t notice until one of the glove’s spikes digs into her fingers. She scowls.

“That might be one of Owen’s new additions. It’s like them to send it to a PC that isn’t Central so they can keep it away from their people while they test its capabilities. It’s still fresh and probably not fully integrated into the Damascus network, so it’ll be more inclined to answer to what it’s instructed to do.” His eyes scan every possible avenue. She wonders if the parasite is trying to take control of him, too.

They reach the double doors barricading the filtration system from the rest of the facility. All the components are newer here. Sai feels like she’s breaking into a hospital.

“On three.” Dom nods at the bar and the keys they have from two of the patrols. Inserting them into the locks on either side of the door, they look at each other and count.

“One. Two. Three.”

The keys twist and the bar becomes available, granting them entrance.

“We’re lucky we don’t need fingerprints or a retina scan,” Sai murmurs, and Dom stops mid-stride to glance back at her before continuing on.

“You had to say that.”

She raises an eyebrow at his back. “Not suspicious are you, Dom?”

He shrugs again, and the gesture is far more fluid than she remembers upon first meeting him. “Not really, but it’s best not to tempt fate, right? Anyway, if I remember correctly, they had to rebuild this facility not too long ago, along with the filtration systems and generators. Most of the others have been around for decades, if not longer. This is probably the nicest one you’ll see—enjoy it.”

Sai laughs softly as they make their way to the hub. She can still feel the prickle up her spine, the lead in her stomach, the uncanny sense of something not being right.

But nothing happens, not even when Dom finishes the insertion of Ebony into the system.

“It’s really okay, Sai.”

She tries to believe him as they’re pulling the bodies of the prone soldiers back into the hall, into three separate parts of their routes. It’s just hard to shake the feeling she’s being watched, even as she sees Dom release the cameras just before they begin to ascend the shaft again. The gnawing at her feels like it’s about to gobble her up from the inside.

“You’ve really got to stop being so nervous about this, Sai.” Dom’s tone is even and calm as he switches the console over to navigation mode.

“I’m not being nervous,” she says, picking at nonexistent fluff on her armor and trying to ignore the pain that’s been shooting down her spine since they returned to Mele.

Dom pauses and raises an eyebrow at her.

“Fine.” Sai crosses her arms and folds gently into her seat, hissing in discomfort. “But it’s not nerves, it’s a gut feeling.”

“You don’t usually ignore your gut feelings,” he says and finally sits down as Mele begins the trek to the next PC. “Why are you ignoring it now?”

“I’m not ignoring it. Telling you about it is tantamount to not ignoring it.” Sai throws her head back and resists the urge to scream—barely. “What I mean to say…” And she almost surprises herself with how calm she sounds. “…is you’re now aware of my gut feeling and should help me act on it if the situation warrants.”

“That’s logical.” He seems pleased with her response. “I will agree to it then.”

“Thank you.” She throws her hands up in the air and narrowly avoids uttering was that so hard out loud. She’s tired and knows it’s getting to her, making her snarky and irritable. Instead, she keeps it in her head. It sounds much more smug that way.

“You’re sitting stiffly.”

Sai hesitates, but she knows he’ll just keep pushing or giving her that sideways glance. “Back problems. Sometimes the junctures flare up.”

Dom does the side-eye now. “Talked to Jeffries?”

“It’s from overstimulation.” She rolls her shoulders, trying to loosen the tension. “It’s still a rather recent graft.”

Dom frowns. “Should you be doing this then?”

“Who else are you going to take, Dom?” Only once she says it, Sai realizes he could take Dael or Joe or any of the dominos now. But Dom is nice enough not to answer at all and focuses his attention back on the navigation system.

“How long to the next stop?” she asks after realizing she’s been staring at him for a while now. His features blend in and out of the darkness. Only his silver eyes remain constant when he’s conserving energy.

“A few hours.” He frowns and blinks a couple of times, eyes momentarily illuminating the dark. “Actually we might not make it. We’ll be restricted to nights for the rest of these, and I think we’re going to miss our window. That last one took a lot longer than I’d anticipated.”

“That last one blew.” She looks out of the panel at the side and frowns, trying to avoid wondering if Dom’s affinity for blending with the darkness comes from the parasite. It’s still almost pitch-black outside, no moon to illuminate anything. “You sure we’re not going to make it in time?”

“Positive.”

“And why are you positive that great hulking thing was Owen’s new and improved lieutenant?” She knows why, but doesn’t really want to admit it herself.

Dom shrugs. “I’m not positive. I just put two and two together and got four, which I know surprises you, but there’s little we can do to change that.”

The smirk curling the corner of his lip is almost unnoticeable, and Sai wants for nothing more than a pillow to throw squarely at his head. Instead, she decides to change the subject as a chuckle escapes her despite her best efforts.

“You mentioned it could just be that PC? Security-wise?”

Dom nods.

“Why that PC? What the hell happened to it that would require such an extensive refit?”

Dom flips the autopilot switch and turns to her, one arm draped casually over the back of his chair. “You’re being serious, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am.” What an odd and infuriating question. Sai scowls at him and crosses her arms, ignoring her back’s twinges.

“Sorry, I thought you were being facetious.” He looks down at his feet for a moment and then back up, the full kaleidoscope of color running through his eyes. “I thought you realized we were in your home PC.”

Sai shakes her head. Fifty-Two. 2350. PC 17. The old facility designation elicits a wave of nausea. She’s not sure why she blocked out the PC they were in. “Seventeen. I didn’t realize we were in PC 17…”

The walls sliding. The rubble showering down around her. Bastian reaching out a hand and beckoning her to come with him. The fire and the water, the smell of burning flesh—all very overwhelming and powerful, even if it is just a memory. “Is that why…why the entire underneath was rebuilt?”

Dom nods and speaks softly. “What you disrupted was nowhere near the capital building, but the passageways run under the PCs. While the dampers thankfully worked, the basements are still linked together through years of tunneling. There’s a direct route from the Central building to their underground engine rooms, and the filtration plant sits about half a block to the side of what used to be your home.”

Sai looks up at him, suddenly understanding everything with horrifying clarity. Her stomach twists in knots that lend gravity to the strange gut feelings she had while in there. “I not only killed everyone in those buildings, I could have killed the entire PC…”

“The damage you did wasn’t that bad. And you didn’t kill everyone. There were survivors—I promise you that.”

“How do you know?” She pushes back on the panic she can feel rising because the darkness hovers at the edge with glee, but it’s difficult.

“Because I was there, Sai. I helped Bastian after he delivered you. Myself and a crew of the other dominos were sent in to save anyone we could. Our abilities make structural damage far less dangerous for us.” He leans forward and lays a hand on her shoulder, his eyes suddenly back to the warm liquid silver she needs to see. “I’m sorry—I really thought you realized.”

“They never told me who I killed and who I didn’t specifically. I thought everyone died. They held that over me the whole time. Apparently they didn’t think it was a good idea to tell me I’d almost devastated the entire PC.” She coughs, all the moisture gone from her throat, and reaches up to entwine her fingers with Dom’s, like he might anchor her here in the now. Breathing is difficult, and she shakes her head to try and get her body to react in a more normal way.

“This stretch is easy enough for Mele to navigate. Her autopilot is almost a true one now, thanks to Twen…Dael and Evan.”

Sai smiles at him, knowing he deliberately mixed up the name to get her smile. Dom’s memory is far too precise to have actually forgotten something like that. He reaches down and reclines her chair as far as it goes, his hand still firm in her own.

He crouches down and brushes her hair out of her eyes. His fingers linger on the shorter strands, left over from the operation that linked her synapses to the adrium spinal column implant. For a few seconds he focuses on her intently, those silver eyes like a pinwheel, lulling her to relaxation. When he speaks, his voice is soft, almost like a caress. “You should rest. Maybe tell me what it is they told you if they never spoke the truth.”

It’s not really something Sai’s ever spoken about with anyone else. “What do they say?”

Dom looks at her helplessly and shrugs, squeezing her fingers gently.

She wonders if his knees hurt crouching like that. Hers don’t seem to anymore. “A burden shared is a burden lessened?”

“Something like that.” He grins back at her, at least she thinks he does.

She smiles and hugs a blanket close to her chest. Regardless of being hot or cold, it’s comforting. “They asked me if I knew what I’d done and then confirmed everything my twelve-year-old mind had thought up. Then they sat me down and gave me the speech.”

Sai closes her eyes to block out those faces, but the words still ring in her ears.

“What did they say?” Dom’s voice is encouraging, caring, and soft.

“‘We realize this is not entirely your fault and have forgiven you for transgressions you couldn’t fully control, but your life is in our hands. Because of what you’ve done and our decision to spare you, no decision you make can ever be your own. You are bound to the GNW.’” Her voice hitches just a bit as she breathes slowly in and out to calm her fear. Even now, the memory brings back the sheer horror of what she was responsible for, the sheer depth of gratitude she believed she needed to show those people who were kind enough to let her live.

“‘Be grateful we choose to let you live. You’ll need to prove yourself worthy of this gift every day. Do not disappoint us or we will reverse the decision.’”

“Seriously?” Dom’s tone is one of disbelief and Sai cracks an eye open to watch his expression.

“Seriously.”

“I’ll add that reason to my list then.” He pats her head and leans in, resting his cheek against hers ever so briefly. With a soft kiss to her forehead, he stands in a fluid alien motion and moves back to the console. Her hand flies to the spot he touched. “We’ll put them in their place, Sai. All of us will. This is the last time they’ll ever intimidate a child like that.”

“Yeah.” Sai smiles, curls up, and lets sleep claim her, knowing that Dom is her safe place.

Sai wakes to the infirmary walls, the strangely draped ceiling closer than she remembers, and frowns. It’s the way it appeared when she first arrived at the Mobile. There’s no Aishke on the cot next to her and no Iria poking her head around the corner. A sudden pain makes her double over as she remembers Iria’s lifeless eyes, the blood on her hands.

She stumbles into a standing position and realizes she’s still fully clothed—in body armor, nonetheless. It’s snug and tight, almost uncomfortably so, and conforms perfectly to the contours of her body. After checking outside the door that there is indeed no one out there in the eerily quiet Alpha, Sai turns back into the room and is shocked to find Bastian sitting on Aishke’s cot.

“Can’t you give me a warning?” She glares at him, or attempts to. Everything around her seems calm and serene. Like the eye of a storm.

His eyes regard her sternly. “What sort of warning would you like?”

“I don’t know. A large red banner of the top of wherever I am in huge writing telling me, ‘Hi, Sai. This is Bastian’s subliminal conversation with you.’” She crosses her arms and tries to be angry, but can’t quite fight the relief at seeing him again. “Come to think of it, how do I actually remember what it is you’re telling me?”

“These aren’t dreams and you remember them because you’re in a different state of sleep—a half-state of consciousness, if you will.” He pauses and leans back. “At least, I think that’s how it works. I’m still figuring it out and you’re the only person I can test it with.”

She smiles and remembers how he tested her for harming only to yield the opposite result. “I get it.”

He nods. “Anyway, they know.”

“Who is they—define which one. And what is it they know?”

Bastian sighs. “Subliminal messaging doesn’t really work that way, Sai. I don’t even think I’m supposed to be direct with you. I think you’re supposed to interpret.”

“I don’t have the energy to interpret. Just tell me.”

“I can’t guarantee you’ll remember it this way.” Bastian is more solid than the last time. His form doesn’t flicker in and out, and he looks precisely like Sai remembers him. “The GNW is aware that something is interfering with the suggestion nets in the outlying PCs.”

“Damn it.” Her thoughts start racing, the increased patrols making sudden sense. “Do they know how?”

“Not yet,” Bastian answers, shaking his head. “I mean that in the nicest way. I have a problem with this dilemma.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“You’re not my only concern. When the reports got back to the GNW that the thought manipulators weren’t having an effect, she sent out the best I have to test the theory. Which is fine and all, but these kids are people I’ve overseen the training of and am technically responsible for. I couldn’t let them take the fall for it. They’re innocent in this. Just because they were raised under this pathetic regime doesn’t mean they deserve to pay for their crimes.”

“I know.” She bites her lip, trying to figure out if they can complete these missions.

“Sorry. They had them beaten.” He pauses for a moment, one hand fluttering halfway to his cheek involuntarily before he snaps back to it. “Even Nim.”

“Is she okay?” Sai fights the reflex that makes her want to rescue her friend, regardless of danger to everyone else.

Bastian winces. “I had to give them a false trail, so I told them there was something interfering, but it had nothing to do with the net casters, to keep an eye out for illness and changes in diet. But they will find out, with or without my help. I’ve only bought you a little time.”

“That’s okay. We’re not trying to save ourselves at the cost of everything else. We’re trying to save everything.”

He chuckles, and now the solidity starts fading. “Damn,” he mutters. “I can’t keep this up for long. My communication can’t be counted on, but if you need me—truly need me to act on something—I’m sure you can reach me the same way I’ve been reaching you.”

Sai nods, a part of her wishing she could reach out and not make him go. “I know. I’ve been watching minds for longer than I realized—it’s a natural thing. Probably your fault. Knowing when someone is and isn’t shielding. If I really need to, I can always get Aishke to punch through shielding for me.”

Bastian nods and grins. “Don’t let her risk herself. Tell Dom to take care of you and that it’s an order.”

She laughs as he dissipates and opens her eyes slowly.

It’s a very strange sensation to already feel awake and then wake up. The fact that Dom is sitting in his chair, back rigid and eyes on the terrain as Mele navigates it, just like he had been when she fell asleep, is kind of eerie.

“You had a Bastian dream?” he asks without turning around.

“You eavesdropped again?” she fires back, genuinely curious.

Dom shrugs. “No, but you do this strange thing with the tip of your nose. It scrunches like a rabbit.”

“One of those vampire bunnies?” Sai sits up but notices the soft smile on Dom’s face.

“Like the uninfected ones.”

“Oh.” She runs her hands through her hair and pulls it back into a ponytail again while getting her bearings. “He wants us to know the GNW are aware that their grid is lessening in effectiveness. While he’ll try to throw them off-track, he can’t guarantee how long it will last.”

“Completely understandable. I’d prefer as little innocent blood on our hands as possible. But…” He frowns in her direction. “What’s wrong?”

Sai shrugs through the sudden tension in her shoulders. “I don’t know. I still have this gut feeling that something is missing, and I can’t shake it.”

Dom glances behind him and frowns. Sai hasn’t taken point once yet tonight. He wonders if her back has been hurting more.

“Sorry.” Her voice is soft and slightly out of breath, but she doesn’t make excuses.

For a moment Dom stands there, fighting the urge just pick her up and carry her because it would be faster. She’d swat him away so fast. “Okay. We have to keep up a pace. Ready?”

She scowls up at him, takes an obvious breath, and nods. “Sorry.” This time it actually sounds like she means it.

He checks to either side and moves out into the alley. PC 4 appears so tidy, so free of addicts and refuse, it’s almost like a foreign entity. He’s not used to working like this, and it’s eating at him. Sai’s been on edge all night, constantly muttering something about there being an off feeling about this that keeps getting stronger, and he can’t put his finger on what the problem is. The parasite inches close, casting shadows that juxtapose the bright flickering advertisements peeking between buildings.

“We have two blocks to go through, and then over to the left. Patrol’s in seven minutes. You up for it?”

Sai nods, that stubborn set to her jaw, and they set out at an easy pace. No phasing when they’re not sure what they could run into. It’s not something people will forget if they see it.

The two blocks and the jump to the left are behind them in no time. They make it to the building in time to use it as shelter. Dom’s internal timer ticks down in perfect synchronicity with the patrol. He nudges Sai, and she rolls her eyes in response but squeezes his hand briefly. Another minute and the patrol is gone. When the dull clank is nothing more than an echo in the distance, he motions Sai to move out with him. The street grate here is smaller than usual, letting only a tiny beam of light into the huge maintenance shaft.

One good thing about the better-kept PCs is the actual ladder bases and ledges inside the shafts. Although it’s probably still common for maintenance workers to abseil down, at least they have a ledge to hold onto and a ladder to climb down and get their bearings from. It’s a good thing, too—the pitch-black isn’t about to help any human out there.

Even Dom has to adjust his eyes to compensate for the lack of light. He frowns and adjusts the heavy pack on his back. Sai moves down in front of him. His hands guide her to the ledge, and he’s quite certain he can feel her tremble. It’s not much, not even noticeable if he wasn’t touching her, but the darkness is made worse by knowing how fatal a fall would be.

“It’s okay.” And he snaps the belt around her waist, tying her to him in case she slips. He places her hand on top of his. “If we keep our hands close together, it should make it a bit easier with the help of this ledge.”

He can almost see her roll her eyes at him. “We’ve done this before. I’m not fragile, Dom, just in a bit of pain. Don’t worry. I won’t get lost.”

Dom can feel the smile tug at his mouth. “Let’s just get this done together.”

Her silhouette nods, and they begin to move slowly. Time ticks through his head like it’s somehow slowed down, and Dom doesn’t speed up. He can’t risk either of them falling, regardless of the tiny tendrils of impatience the parasite is weaving through his head. The breath of the fans is a welcome distraction, a confirmation they’re where they should be.

“Thanks for that.” If he thought she was being short before, her voice is clipped with edges of pain now. Sweat beads her face, visible to him in the pale light coming from the other end of the ventilation corridor.

He doesn’t dignify it with an answer, but makes a show of checking the straps on the backpack to make sure they’re good to go. She’s done this a dozen times. Surely she shouldn’t be this worn out. Maybe she’s sick? He blinks, realizing that while he was waiting for her, she already phased through the fans and was waiting for him on the other side. Perhaps the parasite is making her impatient, too.

“What the…” Sai stands at the edge of the duct and glances down either corridor. Yellowish lights flicker ominously.

“What the what?” he asks, looking at her.

She gestures to the lights currently doing their best impression of an ancient disco ball. “The lights flicker in ways they really shouldn’t. It’s creepy.” Her whisper rises just a little at the end, her mouth twitching into a smile.

“Let’s hope that’s not an omen.” Dom moves ahead of her and down the corridor. This part of the building has one patrol and no cameras. With any luck, they’ll make it to the next door and ventilation shaft without having to subdue anyone. The precision needed to knock guards out takes so much more time than just killing them. Dom has to stop himself before every try, restraining the glee that tries to insert itself into his mind. It would just be so easy, so much easier…

It’s not their fault, though. They’re innocent, too. He shakes his head and leads the way, ignoring the odd frown Sai gives him. “What?” he finally whispers to her as they near the end of the right corridor.

“Now you seem off, too,” she answers, clearly unhappy.

He blinks at her and holds up a hand, gesturing that she be quiet, and closes his eyes. They can bicker about what’s off later. The footsteps he hears are distant, only just now coming up behind them. Dom heaves a sigh of relief and motions them forward to the next door. One more door, one more shaft, and the real complexity of this PC starts.

They make it to the door safely. Its hinges are well-oiled. Like everything else—except, apparently, the lights in this area—it’s well-maintained. The passageway they enter is narrow and dank, a musty sort of moldy smell permeating the air around them. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sai wrinkle her nose and suppresses a laugh. Despite everything she’s been through, there’s some things that’ll never change.

It’s not long before they come to the next door. This one is old and not in good condition; in fact, it seems to have rusted shut. Dom scowls and kicks at the lock, forcing a sharp edge to his foot just where it makes contact. It breaks and slowly swings open on creaky hinges. The sound echoes through the whole shaft in front of them.

He cringes and waits, counting to ten. When no rain of footsteps follow what was a hell of a loud noise, he steps through. There’s a different layout in this PC. Through this shaft, a short ladder climb, and a ledge to scoot around, and the ventilation hub on the other side. At least there’s more illumination in this one. Small lights line the walls about ten feet above the ledge all the way around.

“Not too long now,” he whispers, knowing he should probably stay quiet, but needing to reassure her.

Sai nods, takes a deep breath, and reattaches the rope.

Another set of huge intake fans blocks their way again. Phasing through them has become almost a game. Whoever can recover from the climb first and get through them wins. There are no prizes per se, just bragging rights, but it’s fun anyway for the entire five seconds it lasts.

The second air intake leads into a myriad of passageways. Dom takes a minute to bypass the camera security using the interface he has built into the small wrist device Kayde gave him.

It takes a few minutes to put the video loop in place, and then he scans the schematics for this part of the facility. Sai is studying her own set of them off at the lookout position, just in case something unexpected happens.

“Down, left, patrol, left again, patrol, straight, second right, patrol, right, straight, guard—hub.”

“Got it. No idea why this one had to be so complex.” Sai cracks her neck and rolls her spine a little. “This is annoying the hell out of me.”

Dom smiles despite himself. Sometimes he doesn’t think she realizes quite how much she helps even him out. Without her influence, the parasite gains control far too easily. He refuses to think his dependency on her might have consequences later on. If it does, he’ll deal with them then.

Down and to the left, they wait at the corner—him completely melded and Sai’s bodysuit compensating for what half of her body can’t do. She’s still visible if you look at her, but the armor’s camo abilities are decent for the small wired concentration of adrium in the garment.

They time stepping out with practiced perfection and dispatch the patrol with their usual efficiency, even if it’s getting more and more difficult for Dom to quell the nagging voice in his mind, more difficult to just neutralize. But even with the delays, they’re only a few minutes behind schedule.

She motions to him that she’ll go ahead and wait near the left wing. The second patrol goes down with even less of a fight. “On a roll,” he mutters and Sai grins, but the expression doesn’t reach her eyes. It’s not hard to understand either. Even the parasite is starting to whisper that things might be a little too easy.

They head straight on and turn right down a smaller corridor. Their timing is a little off because, just as they hit their spot, the patrol rounds the corner. While they don’t see Dom, they see Sai almost immediately. Though they overpower the patrol fairly quickly—easier because their focus was on Sai and Dom’s attack came as a surprise—he has to rein himself in and ignore the dark part of him baiting him to kill everything in his path.

“Two more,” he murmurs to himself, like a mantra that can keep him sane just that little bit longer.

Sai’s hand on his arm is warm and grounding. “Dom?” Her eyes are full of concern, a wisp of silver working its way through her dark depths.

He watches it, focuses, and allows its slow spiral to lull him. Then he pats her hand and gently removes it, resisting the urge to tell her how close his unwelcome darkness keeps coming to the surface. She doesn’t need his problems on top of her own. “Just one more stop, two more people, Sai. We’ve got this.”

“I know.” Her voice is soft and tone comforting. He knows that, even though he hasn’t told her the worst about himself, she wouldn’t judge him anyway. It’s what he clings to when it starts to get too dark inside.

The guards stand just next to the corridor leading to the hub. Dom motions to Sai and she nods as she moves slowly, so her limited camouflage isn’t rendered useless, while he makes his way around the other side to complete his own part.

Guards subdued, they move into the hub room and stop short. It’s huge. Much larger than any of the other PCs. Dom looks over as Sai adjusts her backpack, obviously now aware of why she had to haul two extra canisters this time.

He knew it would be huge, but not like this. Everything in the room is in pristine condition, and the whole massive dump of machinery runs so softly it’s almost unbelievable. “Okay, let’s do this then.”

The hub itself is far taller, and the top stands about fifteen feet high. Dom leverages himself off a metal part at the bottom and jumps until he can grab the top. He reaches down to help Sai up as well. There are no grooves for her to dig her feet and hands into, and damaging it with sharpened adrium might not even be possible in the time they have. They search around and finally find the canister intakes on the diagonal of the opposite side. There are four of them. For the four canisters they have.

These are far easier to manipulate than any of the ones before. They can both insert their own canisters at the same time, making the process easy. Just a digital button and automated rising and lowering of the content. Luckily the current filters are on orange, so it’s easy to just press the button to eject them. Once the canisters are in place, it simply sucks it down and locks itself.

“That’s it?” Sai sounds a little disappointed.

Dom nods and closes his backpack before slinging it back into place.

“How are we for time?” Sai massages at her arms and cricks her neck back and forth, wincing every now and again.

“We have a few minutes.” He watches her for a moment before batting her hands away. “Stop that. You’re doing more harm than good.” Her neck is one huge knot, and he works at it, trying to soothe it and cause her neck less pain. Her skin is soft and warm, so similar to how Sai is as a person.

She gasps a few times and closes her eyes. “I did a number on it, huh?”

Dom shrugs and realizes she can’t see it. “I can’t do much for the joining points in your spine, but your neck isn’t helping them either. There’s some cream in Mele you can use for it when we get back. Remind me.”

Sai nods.

“We should probably go now.” Dom lets his hands fall back to his knees and pushes himself to a standing position.

“Yeah…” She puts out a hand and waves it about. “Help me up. My neck is sore.”

Dom chuckles softly as he pulls her up, the noise sinking into the soft whir of the machines in the room. For a moment, she’s close to him, close enough to push the parasite down and away for a bit. Close enough that he doesn’t want to move because the silence in his head is golden.

“Don’t ever say I don’t take you anywhere nice.” He grins at her and reluctantly moves away as she laughs.

“Time to head back.”

Dom nods and leads the way to the door. “We should still have plenty of time,” he says as he pushes it open—only to walk into all the guards they’d subdued on their way in…and more.

Damn, is the first thought that runs through Dom’s mind. The second is to get Sai to safety, and the third is to just get them both back to Mele. It takes a split second for him to process, grab her hand, and barrel through the line of men just as the one in front raises a crossbow to his shoulder.

“Phase,” he yells, knowing she will understand instinctively exactly where they need to meet. The first one is a wild phase, and he almost careens into a wall. Behind him, it doesn’t sound like Sai is having quite the same problem. It’s always been more her forte than his. Two steps turn into another phase, and he hears the clank of a crossbow bolt fall where he was a second before.

He makes it to the ventilation shaft turnoff before Sai and waits, hoping the men don’t run abnormally fast. Phasing might be quick, but they’ll catch up eventually. Sai overshoots the shaft by a few feet and doubles back, accepting his outstretched hand.

They stare at each other, the echoes of running feet coming too close for comfort. “Here goes,” he whispers.

Sai smiles crookedly at him.

Phasing through the fans is nerve-wracking at the best of times, but with twenty guards hell-bent on chasing them down, it’s a lot worse. Dom overshoots his landing, morphing one foot into a sudden grip while the other flails in the air.

Time slows down and Sai reaches out to grab him, his right hand snaking its way around her arm and his fingers digging in so hard that he knows she’ll have bruises. Just as his grip solidifies, his one grounded foot shoots out from underneath him as well. Dom holds on to her so tightly that he can feel her shoulder just about to pop in protest. With a violent swing, he leverages a spiked foot into the mortar below, and she yanks him back onto the ledge. He looks up at her grim face as he regains his balance. She’s sallow, and he can see her anger at his rashness glowering through. That was far too close for comfort.

Undamaged, and now unburdened by the canisters, Dom chooses to return the favor straight away and sling her onto his back.

He can hear the guards cursing behind them. One of them shouts out to another to get the fans shut down. It’s all the incentive he needs. With Sai clinging to his back, Dom begins to edge along to the opposite side and the creaky rusted door. She swings off his back and through the door as they get there, making it easier for him to follow.

As they step through the corridor, Dom strains his ears to hear something that might tell them if their would-be murderers are anywhere near them. He can’t hear anything and motions them forward.

Sai breathes an audible sigh of relief as they sneak through the door to the creepily lit area. The lights still flicker and the occasional footstep echoes in the distance. Sai reaches out and grabs his hand. Dom doesn’t yank it away. The contact comforts him.

The way back to the other ventilation fans is free of interference. Dom frowns and stops at the entrance to the shaft.

“What?” Sai asks, trying to tug him up to the fans.

“Too simple. Surely they would have sounded the alarm.”

Sai shrugs, but he can see the same thoughts dancing through her eyes. “Regardless of who they’ve told or who might be coming, we need to get out of here and to Mele. May even have to call it off for the rest of the PCs. It’s like they…”

Suddenly white as a ghost, Sai falls to her knees, clutching her head. Her eyes water and the tears stream down her cheeks. “Damn it,” she gasps out after several seconds. It sounds like she can’t get enough air into her lungs, gulping like a drowning swimmer.

“Sai?” Dom places a hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Bastian.”

Dom crouches to be at eye level as she squints the tears of pain out of her vision. “What?”

“They know. RUN.”

“What do we do?” Sai whispers, her face ashen.

He whips his head around. “We go out the way we came in.”

“There’s no other way?”

His mind is racing through the schematics in his memory, regarding and dismissing options almost instantaneously. “Not that I’m aware of. You’ve seen the same schematics I have. Does anything different jump out at you?”

Sai shakes her head. “Is there anywhere that could be dangerous for us to run through? Ambush areas?”

Dom shrugs. “I don’t know. Was he specific?”

“No, but the ‘run’ part was pretty forceful.” She cracks a smile, but it looks more like she might cry.

“Yeah.” Dom glances around again. The other patrol should have been through here by now. Something is definitely not right. “We should have been found by now. None of our intel is good anymore. We’re going to have to wing it.”

She rises, and he stands with her. “We can always phase through them if we need to, right?”

“As long as they don’t knock us off-balance,” Dom says, still on high alert as he scans the areas.

“We can do this.” She nods at him, a fire returning to her eyes.

The words give Dom a false sense of security, but right now he’ll take it and wear it like a badge. Phasing through these fans is easier without a host of guards chasing them. Hoisting Sai up on his back again, Dom levers himself out onto the ledge. This shaft is so dark he can barely see his own hand in front of his face. It’s later now, and no moon is visible in this section of the city. Buildings overshadow what could be some illumination and leave nothing but a shaft of light stabbing the dark like a warning.

He inches along, straining at the handholds and extra weight on his back. Adrium is not the lightest metal in the world, and though Sai’s synaptic activity might drastically reduce the weight, he’s still carrying two of them. It’s the ladder that kills him. Though his muscles aren’t technically human, unusual stress is still telling.

They wait, poised on the top rung as a patrol walks by, and then count to sixty. Dom nods and Sai leverages the small grate open.

Suddenly she’s no longer on his shoulders. Dom hears a scream followed by a thud and jumps out of the hole only to take a right hook to the face. In the back of his mind, he wonders just how much that punch hurt the guy and how long his hand is going to have to be in a cast.

Sai is visible off to the right, angling a pretty decent flying kick into a large man’s gut. The grunt makes Dom smile despite the situation, and then there’s no time to concentrate on anything other than what’s in front of him.

Nine people and a lone Damascus soldier surround him. It only takes a second to scan them and register their weaponry and to wonder where this soldier’s lieutenant is. Going on the weapons alone and their ready stances, the others have to be members of a special forces units, though he doubts they’re from Markus. Someone high up fires a crossbow and hits Dom on the shoulder. To anyone else it would look like the bolt is sure to sink in, but the adrium ripples briefly and it falls to the ground with a harmless clatter. Dom only hopes his body can keep up with the damage prevention because he has a feeling these aren’t the only attackers coming.

The parasite knocks at his mind, trying to coax its way in. He ignores it.

They can’t risk phasing out and being knocked into a wall by a stray projectile. Staying is less risky than landing in a wall. Nine men and one solider. Easy enough, right? Dom shakes his head, trying to banish the pull and the need to simply just do away with all of them.

One of the men runs at him, brandishing a knife. Dom knows it’s a very fast movement, but in his mind, everything slows. The man finally reaches him. Dom feints and grabs at the knife while ducking slightly. Using his assailant’s momentum, he scoops the man up at the last possible moment and sends him flying in an arc, up and over. The man lands with a sickening crunch, but Dom kneels swiftly to draw a sharpened forearm over the jugular just to be safe.

One down, nine to go. Three of them run at him simultaneously. It’s a beautiful game of who is fastest. The one on the right goes down first with a sharp kick to the groin, accentuated by the sharpened toe that rips where it connects. An arc of blood spurts out in gushes, beading on Dom’s legs and rolling harmlessly into the street.

He dodges a punch to the throat from second and returns it with his own, tearing clean through most of the woman’s neck, leaving her head just this side of severed with another river of blood to flow down the shaft.

The third assailant has just enough time to realize the error of his ways, but not enough time to escape Dom’s well-aimed kick to the head. Sharpened adrium cuts through the skull, slicing a good portion of it off, brain matter and blood spattering all over the pavement as the sliced half falls to the ground.

Dom circles, a grin on his face as he licks the blood off his hand. Why has he fought this for so long? Why did they insist on maintaining his humanity? The parasite isn’t begging anymore; it’s simply part of him, a delicious, no-holds-barred hungry part of him.

And so many people just waiting to die.

Four down, six to go. He blinks, though. Two are gone, probably moved over to Sai. Out the corner of his eye, he glimpses one of them standing open-mouthed in shock. The man looks up and grimaces with determination or idiocy before charging at Dom. This time Dom moves so quickly it barely registers in his mind. The darkness has spread, encompassing everything he is, and the ease with which his body morphs, the glee with which he disembowels the man before severing his head, sends tactile shivers down his spine.

He turns to see the Damascus soldier just watching, like it’s in a strange sort of stasis mode. On hold or not, it’s a danger. Dom kicks the side of its neck, a well-aimed slice that catches it under the protective plating, severing wiring from the rest of the body. Dom crunches his heel in its face, sick of the dead eyes watching him, and turns around to find twenty-five people armed to the teeth.

He’s not sure where they came from, but there’s a rush of joy in his ears. These fighters are well-trained, and their black garments resemble something similar to Sai’s body armor, though not quite as advanced. They hold themselves slightly forward in anticipation, and their weapons are a variety of hooks, axes, and bolt guns. He takes it all in, analyzing each of them.

Then all he sees is red. There’s nothing left to give over to the parasite as the bloodthirst flows through him. Each death means a sliver of electricity to feed the leech through its host, and the strength, the sheer ability he gains from that small difference, makes his reflexes completely alien.

His ability to care diminishes, and after a few more attackers, he stops trying to dodge their onslaught. He loses count. After all, it’s only wasting time. He’s made of adrium. He’s invincible. He is Domino.

Another head rolls, followed shortly by a body sliced from shoulder to groin. The gaping mouth on the over-balanced half with the head is almost comical, but his attention switches to the next attacker even before the body has toppled to the ground. It takes a moment for Dom to realize a portion of his thigh isn’t knitting back together properly. Failing to dodge his attackers might not have been the best decision. The adrium can only absorb so much damage before the humanity in him makes him weak.

Vaguely he recalls an axe that tried to sever his leg. It belonged to the one he split in two. But it’s of no consequence. He is alien. He is Domino. He is invincible.

Cuts and dents start to appear on his arms, and he uses the next axe that tries to decapitate him to pull the culprit to him before he slices the man’s neck.

Except he can’t lever it out. It’s wedged in there tightly—far too close to his humanity. Not even the replenishment of electricity that was pulled from the bodies as they died is enough to staunch his wounds.

The parasite flees to stitch what it can together, leaving Dom drowning in his own internal darkness at the actions and memories, at the deaths and his own blood. He stumbles and coughs, a strange feeling, not something he’s ever done before. The blood rage still howls inside him, wanting more death, needing more blood—but the energy is gone.

“Shit,” he says as he stumbles to his knees, a hand still resting on the haft of the axe buried in his chest. He sees Sai running sideways toward him just before he passes out.

Sai’s own movements are a blur to her. So many people keep rushing at her she doesn’t have time to think. Reflexively, she pulls from her core, striking harder and faster, switching to reinforce each punch with adrium-strengthened psinoics. Smash through a jaw here, crush a windpipe with medical efficiency there.

Right now there is no right or wrong, only dead or alive, and she doesn’t want to be the dead one. A couple of times she wants to flee, but a glance back to Dom makes that an impossibility. His eyes are red, like she’s never seen them before. An eerie glow encases his entire body, somehow making him seem more shadow than human, but then, he’s never really been human.

She can’t leave him to fight alone in that state of mind, and the number of crossbows in sight make the idea of phasing foolish. She’d have to channel what energy is going into her protective shield to fend off the crossbow bolts into phasing, and that would end in disaster. Slowly, she starts to make her way over to where Dom’s fighting, hopefully to jolt him out of whatever trance he’s fallen into, but the next wave of attackers puts an end to that and requires all of her focus.

Her body aches, her arms feel like they’re tearing out of their sockets, and the last two hits have left her body armor cut open at the sides. The small hairline of her skin that managed to get nicked is beading with blood. Her hair is damp and sticks to the nape of her neck, and once again her eyebrows are failing her. The saltiness of her sweat stings her eyes, but she refuses to be distracted, least of all by the pain in her gut and the warmth of her core. Almost like it’s beckoning to her, telling her everything will be all right if she just lets it take her away. It’ll protect her, keep her safe and warm, and she’ll never have to hurt herself or anyone else again.

Sai shakes her head to try and clear her thoughts with barely enough time to dodge a very nasty crowbar. She pushes some more energy through her core to her shields, grateful for all the time she’s spent building up endurance. The power washes through her in a silty mass, leaving grit on her tongue.

After striking the heel of her palm to their solar plexus and exerting just enough power to crush it inward, she pulls away from her assailant ready for another, despite the current effort it takes just to stand. Vision swimming, she looks around and realizes they’re gone. All of them are down. Beneath her feet.

“Dom?” she calls out, trying to coax her eyes into better focus in the dim light. “Do—” And she stops short, eyes suddenly sharply focusing on the sight in front of her, not ten feet away.

Just as one man falls, an axe bites deeply into Domino’s chest. If he’d been human, it would have cut through him. Instead, it’s lodged in his chest. Sai can’t find her voice, trips on a limb, and stumbles, hands out in front to right her from the bloody street.

Everything slows down as Dom uses the axe to tug his assailant to him, and with one clean motion, he slices the man’s neck. The feeble attempts to dislodge the axe would be almost comical if he didn’t seem so pitifully alien.

Those blood-red eyes and the way his body flows back and forth from shadow to black, solid to almost liquid. His eyes blink in surprise, and a strange concoction flows from his lips. Dom frowns down at the axe in his chest, suddenly looking like his human self once more, and finally, as he begins to fall sideways, the eyes that focus on her drain back to pale silver.

Time slams back into place. “Dom!” she screams, no longer caring who might hear them, which patrol might come running to retrieve them and hook her up to the grid. Right now all she wants is for him to be okay.

“Dom, Dom,” she mutters his name under her breath, the sound echoing back in her ears. It’s not conscious, but she has no idea what to do. Panicking is not the best option, but right now, it seems like the only one.

“Damn it, Dom.” She checks over his body, trying to figure out if there’s anything she can do to help. Not all of him is human. Not all of him isn’t.

“What do I do? Damn it! Dom, what do I do?” But his eyes don’t open and reassure her like they usually do when he tries to regenerate his energy. No, this time, they stay closed. She blinks back the tears and studies the sticky mess on her fingers—like thick black blood.

Her abilities are sluggish. The only thing left is her core, calling to her, luring her in, but knowing how much of the reserves she’s already tapped into makes her hesitate. It’s a gut feeling—if she uses it right now, she might never come out. If she uses it right now, the parasite might gain a foothold.

But this is Dom, her Dom. So she digs deep and gathers what she can, trying to blend it with the human elements in his body. She won’t lose him like she lost Iria. She can’t.

There’s no response. Either her reserves are completely gone or she’s not executing it correctly for him. Sai glances around, nervously, still waiting for a patrol to realize what’s happened. The streets are far too quiet, far too empty, especially for this nice a part of town. PC 4 is definitely not impoverished.

Dom’s colder than usual, and his everyday camouflage is starting to fade at the edges. She watches in rapt fascination as it makes its way up his body, inch by inch, slow as death. He can’t be dying. “You’re not allowed to die.”

But he doesn’t respond and the axe is still jutting out of the gaping hole in his chest at an awkward angle, the handle resting on the ground. Sai glares at it and scowls. If she removes it, will it kill him? Or will it have the opposite effect? One of the wounds on his right thigh is less wide than it was—barely, but definitely. Should she try to reach in and heal him again?

She frowns and attempts to meld, even if only to try and knit him together loosely, but there’s resistance, something all too foreign. His passageways are foreign. Perhaps the axe is blocking the way for his body to start knitting back together.

Slowly, she maneuvers her way around to the other side, blocking out the death and carnage around her and refusing to breathe through her nose. The copper stench is pungent, and if she doesn’t get out of there soon, it’s going to overwhelm her. She cringes at the resistance against the handle when she places her hand on the edge.

The contact makes Dom move slightly, but at least he moves. She grabs the handle with both hands and gets ready to pull.

“Stop it right there.”

Sai gulps and lowers her hands, wondering just how many people are here now. She should have moved him sooner. So many against both of them was one thing, but with Dom down…

She turns and is surprised to see an elderly couple with modest clothing standing in front of her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the lady whispers, while the man’s eyes are busy darting all around. From behind them, they wheel a low gurney. Why they have it, Sai has no clue, but she’s grateful.

“I… It’s not closing. It should be closing,” she mumbles, unsure of what to say to them. “He’s never been hurt like this…”

The woman shakes her head and leans over to examine Dom. “I’ve not seen him like this before, but that doesn’t mean we can’t fix it. Although, if you’d pulled that out…”

“Stop the chit-chat and help me move him.” The man’s voice is gruff and worn with time. “We don’t have forever.”

Sai watches them as they hoist Dom onto the gurney and glance back at her. They seem to know her. They seem to know him.

“Quick then. The patrols are already on their way.”

She follows them blindly, not understanding anything. But if they were GNW, she’d be dead by now. They could be taking them anywhere, and she let them grab Dom. She pushes down on the panic that threatens to rise, barely able to quell the shadows that are starting to snap at her thoughts. They head down a side street, the gurney barely making any noise at all. Sai frowns, wondering if this is all part of a trap.

The old man stops and digs an old-fashioned key out of his pocket. One of the ones with teeth. He slides up the reader and unlocks the real lock with a reassuring smile before pulling Dom through with him.

Sai gets ushered through the door, clutching at her confusion like a security blanket until they’re safely locked inside. The woman pushes her down in a chair and shoves what appears to be a hot tea into her hands, finger raised in the eternal gesture of silence.

Dom is wheeled into a room not far from the kitchen, and the old man stays there with him. Sai looks around at the comfortable—actually, beautiful—place these two have. It’s got wooden flooring, like from the old world. The whole place is homey and comfortable, like nowhere Sai’s ever been. She sips at her tea and does her best not to feel melancholy. The warm liquid hits her belly, and the tension ball inside starts to unwind.

“Much better, dear.” The older lady smiles at her, and Sai realizes that she’s not as old as she originally seemed. Maybe a little younger than Mathur. “Don’t you feel a little less hysterical now?”

Sai nods at first and then scowls and puts the tea down, eyeing it warily. “Who are you?”

“It’s not going to bite. It’s just a relaxing herb to help you not panic. Right now, Dom needs you not to panic.” She skillfully avoids the question.

Sai crosses her arms and glares at the woman. “Who the hell are you?”

Her host sighs. “I’m Gardien.” She smiles self-depreciatingly. “Garr.”

Sai blinks. “Garr? I thought Garr was a guy.”

Garr shakes her head. “No, definitely not. When Mathur faked his death, I agreed to stay in the cities as a part of the Exiled resistance. I flitter around the PCs closest to Central, in and out of my bars. We knew you were coming to PC 4, and Kayde managed to tap into their protected channels not too long ago. Sadly a little later than needed.” Her smile fills with sorrow. “My husband Merl will help him as well as he can and then I’ll fix him. It’s…”

“He’s never been hurt. He’s invincible. He’s always been there. Always…” Sai takes the cup back into her hands and keeps its warmth close, trying to ignore her shaking fingers. “This is bad…very bad.”

Garr shakes her head and puts a hand over Sai’s. “Listen to me. He will be fine. I was Mathur’s assistant. I know what I’m doing.”

She seems so positive that Sai doesn’t have the heart to correct her. But Dom won’t deal well with whatever it is that happened. That strange frenzy wasn’t him, and it wasn’t human.

“Please?” she asks as she sniffs back the tears. There’s no room for even contemplating doing what they need to without Dom. “Just make him whole if you can.”

Garr stands up and looks at Sai for a long moment. “I can put him back together, but in order to be whole? I think he needs you for that, my dear.”

Sai nods, a strange calm and determination settling over her. “You make his body whole, and I’ll see if his mind will listen to me.”

“Deal.”

Garr walks into the other room and closes the door, leaving Sai alone with her thoughts and the rapidly cooling cup of tea. She stares at the walls, with old photos projecting up in 3-D from holoframes. Several oil paintings decorate the walls, remnants of an age fading into history, except that every minute or so the loaded image changes to another.

Sai watches them switch so abruptly, like Dom did outside.

The cushy pillow wakes Sai more than the knocking on the door. She jolts out of sleep and hits her head on the bed above her. Its proximity feels like it’s trying to crush her, and she focuses inward to try and ease the panic she can feel rising. Something flickers at the edge of her vision, but when she turns her head, the dark edges are gone. She tries to remember why she’s in this bed and just what happened after the blur of attackers. Slowly, she maneuvers herself up and to the door to peek out.

On the far side of the kitchen, the main door opens. Sai notices the old-fashioned lock is no longer visible before ducking her head back around the corner and creeping to hide beside small bookcase. It’s easy enough to hear the conversation.

“Did you hear any commotion last night?” a voice at the door asks.

Garr’s response is bright and cheery, and somehow she sounds older than she actually is as she replies. “I often hear commotion at night, young man. Sometimes I don’t understand what it is you young people get up to. I believe there was a party out there, though. All this screaming and yelling—sounded like they were having a great time.”

“Did you look out, perhaps catch a glimpse of where some of them might have been going?”

Garr affects a gasp that almost lands Sai in stitches. “I don’t spy on people. Besides, once I made the mistake of opening my door to watch some of the goings on and some young man came over and wanted to use my restroom. I can’t say no to that. Just between you and me, I think he might have been a little inebriated. He missed the toilet bowl something dreadful.”

“Ah.” The man at the door sounds uncomfortable, impatient to get out of the situation. “Thank you for your time, ma’am. We won’t trouble you again.”

“No trouble at all! Feel free to stop by if you’re ever in the neighborhood.”

The door closes, and Sai breathes in with relief. She inches to the door, only to be greeted by Garr and another cup of tea. “Come out here and drink that one up. If I’d realized how drained you were, I never would have given you that other one. This one will give you a bit of oomph.” Garr smiles at Sai and focuses on her until Sai gulps down a few mouthfuls.

Almost immediately, she feels rejuvenated and eyes Garr suspiciously. “Is this a drug?”

“No, dear, no. It’s just a nice herbal and vitamin supplement. Lots of B for everyone, right?”

Sai shrugs and drinks more. She stares at the slightly green liquid in the beautiful stoneware mug. “Will he… Is he going to be all right?” she whispers into her drink, not entirely sure she wants the answer and therefore not sure she wants Garr to hear the question.

“He’ll rejuvenate enough to move in a couple of days. You’ll need to stay here while he does.” Garr gestures toward the room, and her merry face takes on serious overtones. “Mentally, though? I don’t know. I’m not sure he’s equipped to deal with this. Dom is… They’re not built to realize their mortality. It was never part of the plan.”

Sai blinks back tears again. “Has he woken up yet?”

“No, but he should shortly. Stay within calling distance. He’ll probably need you. He won’t remember me.” Her tone is wistful, a sudden far-off look in her eyes.

“You’d be surprised what Dom remembers, Garr.” Sai isn’t sure how else to make the woman feel better. “He’s pretty remarkable.”

“Dom is a domino, the first domino. It’s what he is, and that’s part of what defines him. He has a personality, the ability to learn and adapt, the abilities to form friendships and create enemies. He is far more complex than we ever dreamed.”

“He looked like he lost his humanity out there.” She gulps, uncertain how much to disclose. “Like the parasite took over.”

Garr shakes her head, the distance gone and her focus intense as she turns to Sai. “Adrium is anything but human, Sai. It’s parasitic, alien, and dangerous. We married it with the best psionic DNA strands we could find to give control of it to the being we created. It seems last night, the parasite made him reckless.” She shakes her head.

“Is there a chance he won’t be himself?”

Garr shrugs. “A small one? Let’s just wait until he wakes up.”

For the first time since Garr and Merl took them in, Sai is scared for Dom to wake up. If he opens his eyes and has that red, demon-like gleam in them, she’s not sure she can do what’s necessary.

Sai isn’t sure how long she’s been staring at the oil painting on the wall above the sink when she hears it.

“Sai?”

She hears the feeble voice and frowns, wondering if it’s her imagination or if Dom is talking in his sleep. Setting the coffee cup down on the table, she gets up and goes to poke her head around the doorframe. His skin is lit up like a disco ball, like all those times she’d seen him malfunction while they were still at the facility in Central.

Maybe it’s the domino version of a fever.

The section in his chest, thighs, and arms where adrium chunks went missing are recognizable, as their color fluctuations aren’t in sync with the rest of him. His head thrashes from side to side, but his eyes aren’t open. It’s the first time she’s truly seen him in anything resembling sleep, even though she knows it’s closer to a coma.

She moves forward and takes his limp fingers in her own, brushing over them lightly. Finally his body settles down and Sai squeezes into the tiny seat next to him, trying to lend him some comfort with her presence. She turns her thoughts inward and gives herself yet another round of healing. The passages of her abilities are raw from usage—she’s lucky she didn’t blow them wide open when she fought the night before. She may have pushed herself a little too far.

“Sai…”

This time his voice sounds like a breath, but his eyes are closed and his body remains still. She grips his hand tighter, willing him to be himself when he wakes up, to not look like the strange alien beast he did when she saw him fighting. His fingers are soft and cold, almost malleable, lacking their usual coherence. She tries not to imagine them turning into the lethal blade-like things he used last night. It’s hard to get those images out of her head.

Then again, she wasn’t any better. She shouldn’t have killed them, but they weren’t giving her the option. How do you not kill people who’re hell-bent on your own demise? She didn’t have another choice, did she? Sai pulls his hand against her forehead, feeling the soft cool reassurance that at least he’s still there. If the adrium had hardened, it would mean he was dead. Without electrical impulses, adrium is just a metal—there’s nothing for the parasite to feed on and it goes dormant.

His fingers move, stroking her hair, and Sai freezes, lifts her head, and looks at him.

Dom’s eyes are only open a slit, and a pale silver light leaks out from them. She can’t help sighing in relief that he’s okay, that he’s still himself. His face isn’t quite the form she’s used to seeing. It’s the one thing she’s noticed during her time with him and all the rest. Each of their eyes has a distinctly different pattern, and right now Dom’s are the most beautiful she’s ever seen.

The tears finally roll down her cheeks, and she moves the chair closer to hug more of his arm.

“You’re alive…” His voice is soft, not quite the old one, tinged with the metallic resonance the dominos sometimes get when they’re not at their peak. “I dreamed… I thought you were gone.”

Sai shakes her head. “I’m okay. A bit beat up, but then we both are…” She regrets the words the instant they’re out of her mouth.

“It wasn’t a dream?” Dom’s eyes close for a few minutes, and she stares at him, wishing with all her heart she could take those words back, have him open his eyes again and reassure him he’ll be all right.

It’s hard to wait patiently—to not stand up and shake him and tell him everything is okay, that he’s stronger than all of this put together. She’s just about to give up when his eyes open again, a sliver of red hanging around the edges, and it’s all she can do to suppress a gasp as it leaks back out of view.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. It wasn’t your fault.”

“You got hurt.”

She barely restrains herself from snapping back that he is hurt far worse. “I didn’t take down half as many as you did.”

Dom coughs or laughs or maybe it’s a bit of both. “I can’t remember it properly. Everything was such blur. It’s like time stopped. There was so much blood, so much death…” He pauses and sighs. It’s a sad sound and echoes through the room.

“It was kill or be killed.” She’ll keep telling herself that until the day she dies. It’s that or fret herself into insanity.

“I slaughtered them, Sai…and I think I liked it.” He closes his eyes again, but his lips keep moving. “I feel…pain. Sai…I don’t like this.”

She doesn’t know what to say. So she stands up and hugs him, curling on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb any part of him that was injured, which is difficult. She wraps her arms around him, trying to will strength into him the way he did for her, trying to feed her healing through their touch, but the response is sluggish and she clamps down on her frustration, resting her head on his less damaged shoulder. “I didn’t know you could be hurt.”

“Neither did I.” His words are bitter, and she wishes she could see his eyes because the tone doesn’t sound quite like the Dom she loves. “But at some stage I was getting hit with so much I couldn’t cope anymore. The parasite couldn’t keep up even after it coaxed me into that mode. I saw red. I couldn’t do anything but kill. I wanted more of them, Sai, more of them to run at me. This is…not good.” He stops, and his body convulses several times.

“Dom?” she asks, pushing herself onto one elbow. “Dom?”

The convulsions stop. One hand holds onto her own arm painfully, as if afraid to let go. “Can you stay with me?” His tone is so soft Sai can barely hear it, but she nods and adjusts the sheets at the side of the bed so she can rest more comfortably, if a little precariously, on the edge.

Dom’s eyes close, and his body grows still and cool, but doesn’t solidify. She watches him, the strange stasis that he falls into, the way the adrium reflects and softens the lights in the room, absorbing them into its morphing abilities. He seems peaceful, at ease, even if the hand that clutches at her still hasn’t eased its grip. Sai closes her eyes with a mind to just rest for a bit and falls asleep.

She wakes up to a tighter grip on her upper arms and red and silver flashing eyes inches from her face. Dom grunts and flings himself to the side, away from her, his entire body switching colors so rapidly it hurts to watch him. He’s the color of the iron on the bed, of the white on the sheets, of the fake blue curtains and the pretend brown window. It’s like his skin is cycling through all of the textures, trying to find the one it wants.

“Dom.”

“Don’t,” Dom manages through clenched teeth. He holds out his hand out flat as a warning to keep at a distance. She obliges and wrings her hands, trying to figure out what she’s supposed to do. “Don’t come closer.”

“What’s wrong?” she asks helplessly, not sure of what she can do.

“It hurts so bad…like I’m on fire, like parts of me want to rip other parts apart. This is wrong. I’ve never felt like this. I’m not supposed to feel like this. Sai…” He crouches on the ground, head in his hands, and moans.

Sai takes one more look at him and bolts toward the stairs, only to find Garr making her way up. She grabs the older woman’s hands and drags her into the room. “Fix him. He’s hurting. It’s killing him.”

“Nonsense.” Garr gently takes one of her hands. “Stop being a baby, Dom. Let her touch you.” She guides Sai’s hand to the front of his chest and places it firmly there. “Now heal him. He’s not just made of some alien metal, Sai. He’s partially human. You can heal it. Help him.”

Frustration overwhelms Sai because she tried to heal him before, but she does what the woman says anyway. She closes her eyes and exerts just a bit of power. The movement is sluggish but at least this time it’s obviously there, so she pushes a little more, trying to find the human tendrils in his body that will best welcome her abilities. She opens her eyes when Dom stops groaning in pain. “I’m so sorry, Dom. It didn’t work the first time I tried it. There’s a different twist to it.”

“You’ve never had to heal him before,” Garr interrupts. “I’ll get you another restorative tea, and I need to give him one more injection. One more day and you should be good to go. You’ll have to be. We’re running out of time.”

Sai just nods, too busy to ask Garr what she means by that cryptic comment.

Garr walks back in from the kitchen with a tea and a needle. “Get him back on the bed. He’ll be fine for now. You rest up and we’ll work on fixing him after you’ve replenished your reserves. You’ll need to do this every day for a while until he knits back together permanently—you’ll have to assist his body with not rejecting the new adrium. We’ve had to supplement. He lost too much in the fight.”

Sai nods her understanding. “Like a blood transfusion.”

Garr nods at her, an unreadable expression blocking out her emotions for a second. “Like a blood transfusion. I’ll send some of this tea with you when you leave.”

“Garr?” Sai ventures, just before the woman leaves the room. “Thank you. For this.”

The older woman nods and leaves them alone with each other.

Seeing Dom this way is unsettling and Sai can’t quite get her mind around it. He’s no longer invincible, but vulnerable and more human than she thinks he’ll be comfortable with. Even if it took about forty attackers in the space of fifteen minutes to take him down to this level of damage, she never thought she’d see the day where he was seriously injured.

She’d always thought he was just being modest when he said he couldn’t take on more than one patrol by himself at a time. Now, she knows differently.

Sai sips at her tea and waits for him to rest up so they can talk. Talking will hopefully help ground him and keep him away from the red that keeps trying to leak through. It takes effort to shrug her own shadows back and away from her mind; she can only imagine it must be impossible sometimes for him. Some more healing sessions and his body will be as good as new. It’s a good place to start.

She just wishes time would stand still.

Dom stares at the wall with its fake window surrounded by worn blue curtains and tries to gather the fragments of the fight floating in his memory. What if next time an axe is sharper, or what if someone finds a sword? Anything where enough of them can hit him and take chunks out of him will do. So far it appears he’s just been lucky.

“You have to stop that,” Sai chides him and he blinks, turning to face her.

She puts her hands on either side of his face and holds him there gently. It’s a recent habit, intended to make him focus on her eyes and stop from persisting with his inner dialogue.

“I’m not doing anything.” His voice sounds sullen and resentful. Nothing like himself.

“Dom, you’ve never been good at lying. It’s not your thing. Get me or Bastian to teach you some day. Stop trying to convince yourself that you should be feeling normal.” The happiness in her voice is strained. Because he’s a failure, because he’s not as strong as he always pretended to be. He feels cheated—like someone constructed him and lied on the packaging.

“Sorry.” He watches her black eyes that sometimes show hints of brown. Today there is no silver leaking into them. Her psionics lay dormant for now. She’s probably replenishing her energy.

“Don’t be.” She moves away and busies herself around the room, shoving stuff into both his pack and hers. “How’re you feeling?”

He hesitates briefly, unsure of how to answer. “Like I got a chunk of me cleaved out with an axe. You?”

She cringes at his remark, and immediately Dom feels sorry for having phrased it that way again. “I’m really…sorry…” is all he can think of to say and this time she nods. How is he supposed to protect her now? The parasite nips at his thoughts, offering the false strength he now knows is just a trap. His eyes begin to wander again.

“We have to leave today. Garr says it’s time.”

Dom nods. They’ve been here two full days. The longer they stay, the more danger they put their host in…and Garr has been amazing.

“It is time. But you should probably stop pulling that face, Dom. After all, we just implanted new adrium in your body. The wind might change and seriously leave you with that expression.”

Her face is so deadpan Dom almost believes her, but only almost. He smiles a bit at the effort she put into the joke and slowly climbs down from the bed.

“Spoil sport.” Garr steps into the small room and ruffles the hair on his head. “You’re all grown up now. It’s odd seeing you this way.”

“Garr…” He closes his eyes and says the word softly, vague memories from many years ago floating through his mind. “I’ve missed you.” He bites back the suddenly unexpected emotion running through him. This woman is like his mother. She taught him to speak and to shield, about a lot of things.

“I’m glad you remember me.”

He nods. “You’re hard to forget.”

She moves to stand in front of him and holds his hands in hers. “Then believe me when I say, you are not weak. You are strong. This would have killed any other living thing on the face of the planet. Every living thing but you. Stop beating yourself up.”

Dom focuses on her, draws strength from her words, and bats the darkness near the edges of his vision away. He attempts a small smile, and she responds in kind and puts a hand on his shoulder. “That’s our Dom.”

Then she leans in and speaks softly into his ear. “She’s worried about you. Work with her. You need each other. She’d be lost without you, too.”

He stares at Garr, speechless, and nods again, a sudden wind of hope filling him up.

Sai frowns and walks over. “We need to make sure you’re steady enough on your feet.

“I’ll be fine,” he says softly, still embarrassed by the slight metallic tinge to his voice.

Sai looks up at him and smiles. “I know you will. Now we just have to convince the rest of you.”

He attempts another smile and chooses, at that moment, to convince the rest of him no matter what it takes. Regardless of how badly this went, of how close this came to the end, Sai needs him. He owes her and needs her in the same way. Letting her down again can’t be an option.

Dom fidgets as he sits in the vehicle. His camouflage isn’t working properly yet and they need to get back out. With his body out of sync and his usual abilities withheld because of it, his safety net is gone. It’s worse than the parasite. It’s because of the parasite.

“Can we do this?” He keeps his voice pitched low.

Sai reaches across and squeezes his fingers. Her hands feel clammy, yet he doesn’t trust his psionic finesse enough to see if it’s because she’s nervous.

“We can do this. Don’t worry.” She smiles at him, and the expression warms him slightly, even if it is a little wan.

He wonders if Sai realizes her voice is shaking, showing him how nervous she really is. When they could blend, it was fine, they had no problems, but right now? They have to get through the guard using regular disguises and a slight distraction from Garr. The odds of making it are bad, and that’s putting it mildly.

He usually leads her through all of this. He doesn’t need to make things even more difficult for her.

The guards at the gate rake their gazes over the crowd in front of them. Getting from the good district and back into PC 4’s equivalent of the ghetto is not as easy as it once was. The guard are still looking for them, and if they’re not careful, they’re going to find them.

Garr, however, in all her ingenuity, has them as passengers in the small vehicle she has. It’s loaded with goods and medical supplies for the hospital just past the guard station. She leans into the door and smiles, and it’s like Dom can see her flip that switch to sweet and talkative Garr. “Garimerl Medicinal Supplies.”

He glances over his reader and back and frowns. “You aren’t due to deliver until tomorrow.”

Garr affects shock. “I wasn’t? But I could have sworn.” Her face falls and she sighs a little over dramatically, but it seems to work. “I’m so sorry,” she says as the man’s face begins to take on an expression of pity for the old woman. “I will go back then…”

She makes as if to turn the vehicle and stops as the guard places one hand gently over hers. “It’s okay, Garr. I remember you from my younger days and how you always fixed a scraped knee or helped someone who was hurt. I’ll let you through today. No sense in you making the journey all the way back.”

Garr’s face lights up with happiness. “Oh, young man, you’ve done me a kind turn.”

“Who’re your passengers today?”

“Helpers who will be staying with the sick in the dark district,” she says in hushed tones, looking around as if someone might hear.

The guard takes a step back and waves them through. “Good luck, Ms. Garr. Hope to see you soon.” But his expression says he doesn’t believe he will. There’s a tinge of sadness around the edges, as if he really will regret not seeing her again.

Dom leans on her shoulder and whispers in her ear. “You’re really going to have to tell us about that someday, Garr.”

“Don’t be silly, Dom. Give an old girl some secrets.” She winks and drives them along the path toward the city walls.

The section of the city wall Garr leads them to is breaking down. The area around it reeks of sewage, and the stale water’s slimy surface could hide an army of bacteria. She smiles at them and leans on a few of the crumbling bricks, only to have them open into a steep stairwell.

After looking around several times, Garr ushers them in. It’s dank inside, but cool as they file down into the narrow corridor. Garr pulls the door shut behind them and fumbles for something before switching a light on. Metal sheet walls run as far as the dim light lets them see. Dom cringes at a cramp in his side. The adrium has receded, trying to build its strength back up, and his body is reverting to the human components to keep him functioning. Vulnerability at its finest.

“You parked Mele out at the hub of rock you were instructed to, correct?”

“Yes.” Sai answers the question for him.

“This should take us straight to her. It’s not quite dark outside yet, so we’re going to have to wait, but it’ll be fine.”

“Merl doesn’t talk much,” Sai states. She intertwines her hands, and Dom knows she’s probably feeling constricted by the narrow tunnel.

“Sure he does. Just not much with his mouth.” Garr’s smile takes on a ghastly appearance in the dim light. “The Damascus fractured his jaw in several dozen places last time they ran amok. It’s painful for him to speak, so he usually lets me do most of the talking.” She winks back at Dom. “Which you can probably tell.”

Sai laughs, the tension visibly draining from her shoulders, and they continue down the way in silence.

Dom stumbles and reaches out an arm to steady himself, sliding for a moment against the metal wall. “Damn it,” he mutters at the pain stabbing through his arm and his chest. He’s been ignoring the legs since they entered the tunnel. This weakness gives him a stubborn determination to push himself farther, only this time he isn’t sure it’s enough. He needs longer to heal.

“Dom?” Sai’s tone holds concern, and he can’t quite make out her expression. Garr squeezes past her, frown on her face as she crouches close.

He tries to get up, but his left leg won’t take the weight. Something wet slides down his thigh to his calf, but he can’t tell what it is, and increased pain enters his system. Panic is such an easy out, but he grits his teeth and tries to control it. There’s no way he’s letting the parasite sink its teeth in again.

Garr grabs his arm and gasps softly. “Your leg isn’t healed properly. Sai—” She grabs the girl’s hand and holds it against Dom’s thigh. “—exert as much energy as you can. Help patch this up temporarily until we can get to Mele.”

The older woman frowns at them both—not that Dom can see it, just that he knows she is. “You were healed. Is your body rejecting the new adrium insertions now?”

“I’m not sure. I felt fine—weak but fine—and then it kind of just hit me. I needed to sit and I fell.” Dom shakes his head and purses his lips. “This is ridiculous. I don’t feel whole. It’s like I’m hollow.”

He can see the woman’s face now, grimacing in the dark. “You’ll be fine. We will get this figured out. You need to get back to Mathur.”

Dom nods and puts a hand on top of Sai’s, trying to lend her some strength and failing. He doesn’t have any energy left to give. All he has is trying to hold his constructed body together. She doesn’t bat his hand away, though, and he thinks he sees her smile.

After a few more minutes, they begin moving again.

Dom isn’t sure how he makes it. His head starts spinning, and everything anyone says simply whirs around in the air slightly above his current level of comprehension. As they wait for the sun to fully set, every part of his body feels like it’s on fire. Never before even capable of being sick, and now it’s almost more than he can bear.

Except Sai sits down next to him, her shoulder bumping his own, her hand resting on his. “Sucks, doesn’t it?”

He blinks at her, focusing on the words, processing them. Speaking requires him to think in a focused manner, but he persists with it. “What sucks?”

“This.” She gestures at him, gestures at her legs. “The frailty of humanity. That the people we fight so hard to free, so hard to protect, can just fall apart.”

Slowly, he nods. “Your point?” Because she has to have one. She always does.

Sai maneuvers so she’s leaning gently into him, half-reaching across to cradle his face in her hand. She locks eyes with him, slivers of silver dancing their way through the dark as he feels her healing energy enter him, warm him. “There’s only one of everyone. And so we fight for each life, for each spark, for each piece of individuality. Because letting it go out too soon isn’t an option.”

He blinks, trying to let her know he’s understood her, riveted by the dancing swirls of silver in her eyes.

She leans forward and rests her forehead against his. Something wet—a tear—jumps from her cheek to his own. Her nose is pointier than he realized as it brushes his own, and the breath of her words is warm when she speaks. “There’s only one of you, too, Dom.”

Dom blinks his eyes open to discover a white ceiling in a bright room. He frowns and tries to move, but his torso and legs are restricted. It takes most of his self-control not to rip the bindings away, but then he realizes there’s a dull throb throughout his entire body. A feeling that hasn’t been there until recently.

He is damaged. The tension in his body relaxes, and he slumps back into the feather-soft pillow. He focuses on Sai’s words, on what she said. There’s only one of him, and he is needed.

“You are awake.” Mathur’s lilt is like music to Dom’s ears. If Mathur is there, perhaps there is hope.

He opens his eyes again to focus on the old man who’s sitting near his head, studying a reader, and realizes part of the man’s lab has been converted into a sick bay. “How long?”

“You arrived early this morning. Sai was a mess. Mumbled all sorts of things about you, your personality, and to please take care of you. So I thought that might be a good idea.” There’s a twinkle in his eye that almost cancels out the worry lines making him look old.

“Bet you say that to all your dead patients.” He means it as a joke, but it falls flatter than most of his attempts. He’ll have more sympathy for Sai’s tiredness from now on.

Mathur puts the reader down on his knee and directs his attention to Dom. “I created you and I know you far better than you believe you know yourself. With a few days of actual rest, you are going to be fine. You will be full capable of doing everything you did before.”

“You’re sure?” Dom raises an eyebrow as best he can in the older man’s direction.

“Positive.” Mathur hesitates and then goes a step further with his explanation. “Your original adrium just needs to adapt to the newer adrium implanted into your system by Garr after the accident. It was lucky she had the non-replicated variety. She knew what she was doing and actually did quite a fantastic job, except for with your right thigh, which was not her fault. A piece of metal was lodged in deeper than she had the tools to see. We managed to retrieve it, and your right leg will be back to normal in a few days as well.”

He stands up and stretches. “Overall, you are in amazing condition considering you almost got cleaved in two, as Sai puts it. And speaking of which, I do believe she has been waiting just outside the door, sleeping on a makeshift bed, just in case you woke up. She is worried, Dom.”

“I know she is.” He has to beat down the constant thought that she should be, because he’s still worried about himself.

“Anyway, they tried to move you too quickly after the initial implant. Adrium takes a while to share affinity.” Mathur studies a reader in his hand and frowns slightly. “Garr will come in—”

Dom interrupts him. “Garr is still here?”

Mathur nods. “She couldn’t leave you to travel with Sai alone. You were at dangerous levels. She will be in to gauge your synchronicity levels and see if the graft will hold or if your body will still reject it.”

“I could still reject it? Isn’t it what makes me a domino?” The panic, the darkness, the parasite tries desperately to sink its claws back into him. But it’s a feebler attempt than usual. Maybe it’s wounded.

Mathur looks him directly in his eyes. “It is not quite like that. You’re the domino. Prototype, if you will. No matter what the others have learned or gained or were given when they were created in your image. They are not you and you are not them. Their creation simply sought to emulate you.”

Prototype sounds so much nicer. Dom grins and tries a fresh joke. “Maybe forty attackers was overdoing it just a little bit.”

Mathur’s smile is sad as he lays a hand on Dom’s head and leans down. “Do not do that again please. You worried me. Come talk to me later when you are better. We have elements of your transformation we need to discuss.” His eyes crinkle with fondness, and he walks out.

“Dom?” Sai’s tone is timid as she pushes into the room.

“Last time I checked,” he says, trying to mollify his dry tone with a smile.

“Sometimes I wonder why I bother,” she mumbles, but there’s a soft smile on her face as she suppresses a yawn.

“You bother…” The words trail off and he’s not certain what he should be saying, but he decides to forge ahead anyway. “…because there’s only one of me.”

Sai crosses her arms and studies him, a grin making her eyes shine. “I’m glad you were listening. There’s no other Dom. Who else am I going to go phasing through ventilation shafts with?”

Dom blinks at her and laughs softly. “Good. Just you remember that.”

“Sure, sure,” Sai says as she reaches back to adjust his headrest. He’s certain he can still hear a smile in her voice. “Seriously, though.” She looks at him again. “Are you okay? Can I get you anything? Do you need to talk?”

“That’s a hard question to answer.” And he’s not even lying. They’re all hard questions to answer.

She sits down on the side of the bed, a hand resting on his bicep. “You know you’ll be fine, right?”

Dom shakes his head. “I know, and yet… How was it for you and your legs? Did you find it that easy to convince yourself that you’d be whole again?”

Her face pales and she scowls at him. “No, but you didn’t lose an entire limb set, so I don’t think it’s quite the same.” She crosses her arms and glares at him.

“I’m sorry.” He bows his head, trying to figure out how to say what he wants.

Her tone is gentle and forgiving when she speaks again. “Try again.”

“There’s that part of me that took over, a part I’ve always fought off, a part that never had a direct avenue because of the stupid communication channel…” He looks up at the ceiling, trying to gather his thoughts. “I feel like there’s two people inside me. A switch that gets flipped in such a way that I barely remember what the parasite-driven me does.”

Sai shivers and gives him a quick hug before pulling back and focusing on him. “I think we both need to figure out how to use the parasite without it using us in return.”

“Now why didn’t I think of that?” Dom rolls his eyes—or tries to, because Sai laughs at the effort.

“Stop it. I’m serious.” The laughter is gone, her jaw squared. “Maybe there’s a way we can harness what it can do without letting it take over.”

“Maybe.” He hopes he sounds more certain than he feels, because even sitting here, safely, next to her, he can feel the darkness poking around the edges of his consciousness, just waiting for his control to lapse.

“What the hell is going on here?” Zach slams his hand down on the table with a resounding slap and glares around the room. It’s not one of his postured, “look at me” tactics, Bastian can tell—the man is pissed.

No one answers, and Zach rounds on Bastian, pointing a finger directly at his face, inches from his nose. “It’s you, isn’t it? You said there was no way your people weren’t being as effective as they’ve ever been. Well, what’s your argument now?”

Bastian raises his hands in an appeasing gesture, only to be met with a reinforced glare. “It’s not my people. They’re locked into the grid and doing what they’ve always done. Their abilities are unparalleled. If it’s not a virus or the food, maybe the people are building up an immunity?”

“That’s not possible.” Zach scowls, but Deign stands up just as he goes to open his mouth again.

“It’s been happening for a couple of weeks now. It started slowly and is gaining speed. The protests and unrest in the streets are beginning to get out of hand. Don’t blame someone who was indisposed, by you, at the time of the onset.”

Bastian just keeps his face neutral and crosses his hands on the table.

“However…” Deign sighs and appears a little pale under her makeup. “We need to stop this and we can’t do it until we’ve figured out what it is.”

“You don’t think this might be a natural immunity setting in?” Harlow asks, a frown on her face. “I mean, we’ve been using this on them for years. Just because we know the benefits they receive from the suggestion we use doesn’t mean they’re going to understand once they find out.”

Deign coughs, her poise gone for a split second. Bastian squints at her and at Harlow, at the way the latter can unsettle their leader, and files it away for later.

“They won’t understand the benefits—at first glance. It’s all a part of the bigger picture and none of them are digging deeper.” Deign pauses, her attention squarely on the security chief. “So how do you propose to remedy this?”

Harlow shakes her head in a hurried response, eyes narrowing. “I don’t have a solution for what to do. I was offering a reason for why it’s ineffective now.”

Deign’s gaze remains on Harlow for several weighty seconds before she smiles, a tired version of her usually fake expression. “I know. You and Bastian have always been the logical ones.”

He watches her closer because the tone of her voice indicates some form of wistfulness, perhaps regret. Something entirely un-Deign-like. She must be exhausted.

She breathes in slowly as she brushes her fingers over the glass screen desk below her. A frown mars her usual smooth features. “No one has ever exhibited a natural immunity to psionics before if they don’t have the dormant gene.”

It’s almost like she’s musing out loud, discussing the topic with herself. No one else breathes a word. Deign’s mood is odd today, even for her.

Except Harlow. She glances around at everyone else, only momentarily locking eyes with Bastian. Her history with Deign, their childhood together, and everyone else’s silence seems to bolster her and she leans forward. “We’ve never tested it long-term, Deign. This is the test. This is the long-term.”

Deign focuses on her childhood friend, a hard line between her brows as she worries at her lip. “We’re what? Twenty years in? Shouldn’t this have shown before now?”

Harlow shrugs and leans back in her chair. Her eyes reflect an odd array of colors when her implant is disengaged. “We only recently regained the source after having lost it. We depleted many of the stored psionic supplies and I daresay thinned out the nets’ effectiveness to preserve longevity.”

“True.” Deign’s eyes flash, and Bastian can almost see the thoughts running in the woman’s head. She’s always been quick, smart, and ruthless. It’s why she’s here. “Maybe that was enough of a gap in pressure.”

“I’m not saying that’s the reason,” Harlow cautions softly, “but it’s the only recent difference I can see. That lull in a consistent increase of grid power could have been enough to break the chain.”

Bastian wants to hug her, but forces himself to remain neutral as he watches Deign mull over the thoughts in her head. No one else brought this up, and Harlow’s attention is once again on the blue-green flicker that’s reengaged in front of her pupils.

“Where is Owen?” Zach interrupts. His sullen expression screams that something is on his mind and that he’s paid the barest of attention to the current conversation. Tempting as it is to try and read the man’s thoughts, Bastian resists, even if tapping into his core would make it easy.

“Owen is dealing with an incident from last night in PC 4. Several of the alarm receptors didn’t activate, and the security imprint footage seems to have malfunctioned.” She focuses on Zach for a moment, her eyes narrowed. “You seem oddly concerned with Owen’s whereabouts these days, Zach. I assure you he has the Damascus well under control.”

Zach blanches slightly, but it doesn’t detract from his overall sliminess. There’s little of the Zach he once knew present anymore. Instead of mere bravado, he’s turned into a manipulative, power-hungry man. Bastian isn’t entirely sure how much of Zach’s act Deign has fallen for.

Markus breaks the glaring match. “Is it something airborne?”

Deign shakes her head, her attention off Zach for the moment. “We tested the air emissions in each of the PCs. There’s nothing registering as dangerous or different on any of the monitors.”

Bastian lets his breath out slowly. He’s not sure how Kayde managed it, but at least she thought of almost everything. Even if they catch on eventually, at least there should be enough of a delay.

“We could get the Damascus to beat the truth out of them.” Zach taps his foot underneath the table, a scowl on his face.

“You think we haven’t cornered suspected rebellion leaders and questioned them?” Markus speaks up, his quiet voice menacing in tone and his expression not far behind it.

“It’s not like you broadcast it. If we’re all going to work on this together, then we all need to work together. And that includes knowing what it is that hasn’t or has worked.” Zach is half-standing now, his eyes gleaming, ready for a fight. His breath comes short, and there’s a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. Bastian watches him as discreetly as possible. Something is making him uncomfortable, right down to the slight tremor in his voice as he speaks.

But they don’t have time for this and Bastian reaches a hand to Zach’s shoulder and gently tugs him back into his seat. “Plenty of time to knock each other out after we figure out the solutions,” he comments softly. “What were you saying, Markus?” Bastian chooses to ignore the daggers Zach is glaring at him.

“We’ve taken in several of the protestors. They don’t know specifics but are completely aware that everything they get told and reassured about is a guise for what really happens. Like the truth about the last infiltration by the Exiled. There’s a deep-seated anger beginning to fester. We’re going to need a lot of psionics if we plan to try and push back on this. Now that they’re questioning, I don’t see how even the strongest push will win them over.”

“I’m not even sure if that would work.” Owen closes the door softly behind him, one of the new lieutenants going to stand with Bastian’s own, towering a foot above it.

Bastian can’t help but be awed. A beautiful specimen of machinery. If they had anything close to human inclinations, they’d be amazing assets. What makes the dominos so remarkable is the humanity was married to temper the adrium’s true nature. But the Damascus don’t have that boundary. They’re mostly machine, and anything biological that was a part of them has long since been discarded. With no moral compass, the adrium parasite takes control of all actions.

He switches his attention to the scientist. This time his hair is sticking out in all directions, but the eyes behind those glasses flit around every part of the room. Enigma though he remains, Bastian has a soft spot for him.

“Markus, can you tell them what you told me?”

Markus rises from his seat with a nod, and Bastian blinks at the direct look Owen gives him. But after that split second, it’s gone and it leaves him wondering if he imagined it.

“We’ve been getting information that our guards have been waking up in multiple PCs and not remembering quite how it was they got knocked out.” Markus puts up a grainy image of the darkened areas beneath the cities so that everyone can see it on their desk in front of them. The short is of two blurs disabling guards. “That’s the cleanest passage we’ve got. No other camera appears to have caught anything. We have no idea how it is or why it is that these rebels managed to get down there, nor how they managed to hack into our systems.” He glances over at Harlow.

Her face is pale and she blinks through screens, hands motioning in the air rapidly. “Trying to find the loop. There’s…” She frowns and Bastian feels bad. She’s always been a voice against Deign, always had a calm level of reason, and none of this is her fault. Kayde is just damn good. “I’ll make it my top priority.”

Deign nods, her eyes shadowed in thought. Bastian suppresses a shiver, knowing it’s only a matter of time before she figures it out. She motions to Markus to carry on.

He sips a glass of water before continuing. “Some have disappeared. Likely dead. While this could have something to do with the incidents, we still have no idea why.” He looks at Owen, who nods again, finally settled in his chair.

“After searching the warren of tunnels down there, we still can’t quite figure out why they’ve broken in. Because the hubs are the center for the air filtration, we did test the air as Deign mentioned. But there’s nothing. However, we are wondering if they’re just testing the extent of our security and perhaps seeking to overthrow from within.” Markus takes a seat.

“How is this related to the skirmish from last night?” Zach practically growls out the words. The patrols are usually under his watch, and the sheen of sweat has turned into a constant trickle down his temples. “I only had one patrol out, and it reported nothing.”

“I was getting to that.” Owen’s voice shakes a little, one of his nervous tells. “We’ve had a few alarms go up over this last week. This time, we staked out the corridors of the facility in PC 4. Basically, we set an ambush for them. But here’s where it gets weird.” He coughs and takes a sip of his water. Bastian is pretty sure he’s paler than usual. “The guards couldn’t see them properly. They whisked in so fast. The patrols were confused but waited for them when they came out of the hub area. Since their recorders were working, I don’t doubt it when they say the infiltrators escaped so fast they could barely see them. I believe them.”

“The two of them, from what we can tell, headed through the tunnels and ventilation shafts to make their escape. We sent troops after them—some Damascus mixed with a few special forces and regular army. About fifty people all told. Not one of them made it back to base.”

“Not one?” Harlow asks, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Not one.” Markus bows his head, and this time Bastian knows he’s legitimately upset. Some of those guys would have been his.

“Domino.” Zach’s voice is soft but firm. “There’s nothing but a domino that uses invisibility. That freak of nature should have been put down long ago.”

Bastian clenches the fist on his knee. “I thought you disabled the dominos?”

Deign shakes her head, lips pursed thoughtfully as she looks at Zach. “No, most of them sort of disengaged themselves. Others completely devolved. We have no intel regarding where the others are. Why is that Zach?”

He shrugs and shifts slightly in his seat, eyes avoiding her as he shakes his head. “I assumed we lost them in the bowels of the city.”

“Assumed?” Bastian asks, affecting shock.

“Fantastic.” Deign’s voice is suddenly very small, tired, and oddly vulnerable. Her father handed her an iron-clad reign, and it’s breaking apart beneath her watch. He almost wants to feel sorry for her—almost.

“Did you find whatever it was?” Zach asks, although his tone no longer fools anyone. He knew all along that the dominos weren’t all defunct. He had to.

Owen shakes his head. “We found a lot of blood and another substance we’re still trying to determine. Fifty-odd bodies’ worth of blood, not to mention pieces of Damascus. Whatever did that…is not something I’d like to come across in a dark alley.”

No one speaks this time, not even Zach. The silence stretches uncomfortably. Bastian does his best not to fidget and hopes his expression doesn’t give away his own shock. He knew Sai and Dom had faced an ambush, but he wasn’t aware of the extent. She must have improved tenfold since she left for the Exiled to pull that off. His sense of pride is diminished by the sadness at her having to kill again.

Deign glances at the clock on the wall. Regardless of all the technological advancements society has made, Deign still leans toward things that reflect the past. She loves clocks and high heels, motor vehicles versus hovercraft, paper versus her reader. The woman is an odd juxtaposition, considering the position she holds.

She clears her throat, the steel back in her voice. “Let’s call it an afternoon. Brainstorm, think, and come up with anything that might help us solve this. Because right now it seems like we’re running headlong into a revolution.”

An entire evening with his own thoughts under the supervision of Mr. No Personality Because I’m Not Human, his Damascus lieutenant. What more could a stunning single bachelor want on a Friday night? Although—Bastian glances in a mirror as he passes it—perhaps he’s more rugged than stunning now, considering that nice abrasion scar on his cheek. It’s barely noticeable, but noticeable nonetheless. Gives his body that lived-in look.

He pulls off his suffocating jacket and falls back into his chair. His fingers tingle with warmth, but picking off the gloves is a little too much effort right now.

He closes his eyes and runs his hands through his hair. There’s nothing to tell them yet, no news to pass on. Nothing they won’t already know, even if reaching through with the core sounds so tempting. That feeling of power suffusing him is oddly addictive. Very dangerous.

How the hell did Dom and Sai manage to cut through fifty people and a Damascus? It’s impossible. Unless…

Bastian sits bolt upright, his eyes snapping open. “Damn,” he curses softly

There’s no way Dom could have given way to it, is there? Wasn’t that the problem with some of the domino prototypes before him? The human/parasite balance was off and made them violent, vicious, and unstable. It’s how Mathur lost his leg. Is there anyway desperation could do that?

With so many questions floating around in Bastian’s head, he doesn’t hear his visitor until she’s in the room with him. Startled, he stumbles right back into the chair, mentally checking for his alarms to see they did go off, but only briefly.

“Damn it, Deign.” Trying to think fast on his feet, he still can’t recall if she’d said she was coming to see him.

“What were you thinking, Bastian?” she asks him in that silky voice she only ever uses if she wants something. It’s a deftly woven command, with a hint of suggestion to coax her prey into doing what she wants.

“Trying to figure out how the hell fifty of our troops got downed.” It’s so easy to not lie and yet not tell the truth. Bastian isn’t sure if he should be proud of that or not.

“Ah…” She traces a finger across the scar on his face and lets herself drop down into the seat opposite him. “Such a shame. but we all have to pay the price for not listening sometime, don’t we?”

It’s a rhetorical question he still wants to answer. To scream at her to not be so unreasonable, not to be such a bitch. Instead, he nods and holds her gaze.

“You always were strong. So strong. You stood up to Zach when he got in his moods, you protected your domino—you always protected the underdog. Out of everyone in that room this evening, the only person you’ve never protected, the only person who owes you nothing at all, is Owen. You even protected Zach and myself at one stage.”

She moves to get a drink out of his fridge and leans against the desk, sipping the cup. “You’ve always been too good for this world. Always so righteous. Tell me, did you ever think your father was right? Did you ever think we should have let the people fend for themselves?”

It’s dangerous ground with too many dangerous questions. Bastian shrugs. “I’m not entirely sure. I’m quite certain many people wouldn’t have made better or worse decisions than they have with our help—so what’s the harm in letting them think for themselves? But honestly, it’s not my place to say now, is it?”

She laughs softly. “No, I suppose it isn’t, is it—oh, Diplomatic One.” She reaches forward and tugs at a fingertip. “You left your gloves on, Bastian. You’re really no fun sometimes.”

“I like to keep my personal thoughts to myself, if not my business ones. Some things are meant to be private.” He allows himself a grin in return, wondering how someone so beautiful on the outside can be so blindingly hideous on the inside. Then again, if he’d had her parents, he’d probably have turned out the same way: twisted.

Suddenly she’s closer to him, hand entwined with one of his. “Why won’t you ever let me in that goddamned head of yours, Bastian?” It’s not really a question. It’s Deign being her demanding self. Alarm bells ring in his mind.

He pushes up from his chair so suddenly he topples it over and grips her wrist, stepping completely away from all other the contact. “Deign. You don’t want to be doing this.”

And she shouldn’t, because she won’t like what’s in his head and she won’t like finding out his true strength this way either.

She glares at him and twists her hand out of his loose grasp. “I could force your walls. I could make you beg to take them down for me.”

But the sibilance in her tone has no effect on him. He cocks his head to the side and blinks at her. “Could you, really?” He can hear the dare, the challenge, the sheer audacity in his own voice—and he regrets nothing.

Suddenly there’s a pressure surrounding his head, trying to push in, to break down, to coerce his emotional status. And they’re so close, so close to everything that he doesn’t even care. With a slight puff of power, he banishes her effort.

Deign reels back as if slapped, eyes startled. “What the…?”

“An old trick my father taught me,” he half-lies.

He can see the anger boiling just under the surface, the half-sneer that starts to cross her expression. “I know you can’t move much further or your guard will be triggered. Don’t make me hurt you, Bastian.”

Something snaps inside him. He’s sick of playing weak, sick of hiding his powers and trying to manipulate everything toward one, hopefully close end goal. He takes a step closer, loosely grasping his core, just in case. “The walls have ears, Deign. You should know—you put them there.”

As he moves forward, she takes a step back, her eyes suddenly confused. “What will they hear? Me taking you down a peg?”

He laughs and moves closer, close enough that she’ll hear the soft words he speaks, but not close enough to touch. “You can’t get inside my head. You’ll never get inside my head. Not one of your little tricks will ever work on me, Deign.”

She casts her gaze down for a moment as he continues.

“I’ve always had your back, Deign.” And it’s not a lie because she’s always been the lesser evil in his eyes. An indoctrinated one. “Don’t make me change my mind now.”

Deign laughs and looks back up at him, their eyes almost on the same level. “You have, in your own way, I guess. Fine.” She slips away and smooths down her skirt before fixing him once more with wistful eyes. “You have no idea how lonely it can get up here, Bastian.”

It’s the first time she’s ever spoken so openly to him, the first time he can almost see himself forgetting the things she’s done—not only to him but to others he’s known and cared about. If he shut his eyes and blocked out his memories, she’d be perfectly attractive. This isn’t the time for those thoughts, though.

There’s a bad seed in her, something not quite right, a sliver of cruelty passed down from her mother. It nags at everything she does.

“It’s lonely in a lot of places, Deign. Remember? I’ve killed for you.”

She smiles sadly, a lopsided smile. “How could I forget? A family of assassins,” she murmurs, and there’s a hitch in her voice and a finality about her words that he can’t quite place. Deign has something on her mind, but she’s not telling just yet.

With a shake of her head and a peal of her golden laugh, she smiles at him, the trace of sadness and regret a distant memory. She walks past him and pauses, drawing a fingernail up his chest to his chin. He can feel the hum of psionics under her skin. “It’s okay. There’ll come a day when I can pursue whatever I want to.”

He watches her leave the room without a comeback, unsure of what to do that won’t get him in trouble.

The following day dawns with a summons to meet Owen in the laboratory at daybreak. As far as Bastian knows, they didn’t want him down in the bowels of the facility, just in case he tried to have the Damascus rendered inoperable again.

Shower, food, and clothes take a minimal amount of time. He motions to his lieutenant as he walks toward the doors. The quicker he gets down there, the more time he’ll have and the sooner he might be able to discover something he can share with Sai. Anything he can show them that might just mean a slight advantage when they finally go head to head.

It’s getting so close now, he can taste it, just like the power at his core. Close and ever more delicious.

He knows the way down to the laboratories like the back of his hand. So well, in fact, that he feels restricted by the pace the Damascus set.

Finally downstairs, he has to blink to adjust his vision. The lighting is far dimmer than he remembers it. But it doesn’t seem to faze Owen, who is bent over one of the benches on the far side of the vast room.

They used to keep the people down here that they’d drained so much they were used up. He had no idea where those people were now. Even Bastian can feel the lingering psychic echoes of pain, and he’s no empath. He keeps his expression completely neutral as he approaches Owen. The younger man waves at the lieutenants to move away. “I can’t think with so much metal hovering over me. Give me a bit of space.”

They move, eerily in sync, and Owen watches them until satisfied with where they’re standing.

“Sorry about that,” he mutters under his breath, barely audible. “Look over these plans with me and make appropriate noises.”

“Excuse me?” Bastian is immediately on his guard, even though he keeps his voice low. His gaze darts around to see who else is watching them, trying to find a two-way mirror.

“Don’t be so obvious. Bend over, pick at this and that, and just listen.” Owen is different in here than he is in the meeting room. Confident and authoritative. Bastian is intrigued despite himself, and so he obliges. Maybe that direct glance at the meeting yesterday was a signal of some sort.

“Thank you.” The young man takes a few breathes as he fiddles with the parts in front of him. He slowly reaches forward and very deliberately flips a switch on a tiny device. Nothing happens, but he smiles at Bastian and begins to speak freely.

“Interference. They won’t be able to hear what we say now, as long as it’s soft. Look.”

Bastian finds himself nodding as if in agreement with whatever the hell it is the man is saying, fascinated by the fact it appears he apparently has an ally where he never knew there was one. “I’m all ears.”

“No, your ears are…oh, yes. Sorry. Sometimes I’m a bit too literal.”

“Your nervousness isn’t fake, is it?”

Owen fails to suppress a smile, giving him an oddly childlike appearance. “No, they scare the crap out of me. Basically, here’s the deal. There was no way I could work on a pulse device or any type of disabling machine. So I’ve sort of enhanced what one will do when a pulse device is created and enabled.”

“Wait—did Mathur send you?”

Owen blinks. “The creator of the dominos? Isn’t he dead?”

Bastian shifts his weight, trying to grasp at the motivation. “Then why…?”

“Those monsters killed my entire family. I watched my mother, my father, and my twin sisters get mauled, torn apart by one of their rampages through Central. I ran and hid, and they almost got me, too. There is no way I will let that ever happen to anyone else.” Owen’s eyes are hard, determined, and full of bitterness. “I do this for my own selfish needs, but most of all to avoid history repeating itself.” He turns pointedly to Bastian. “They should never have been reawakened.”

“I know,” Bastian answers, still trying to get a grip on this. Still wary of the young man in front of him, of this perceived good fortune. What if it’s a trap?

“Because of last night’s meeting, I could get you down here and explain this to you under the pretense that I needed you to help me figure out how these Damascus died and if psionics had anything to do with it.”

“This is all for appearance’s sake then?”

Owen frowns. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

Bastian smiles, running through potential responses in his head before carefully choosing one. “You could be trying to see if I really just wanted to stop history’s repetition before it starts. Or you could be trying to lay blame on me.”

Owen raises an eyebrow. “Then I wouldn’t tell you that the new lieutenants have an inbuilt pulse amplifier. In several days, I will have enough of them that one will be sent with each set of patrols. When the pulse is finally set off, they will amplify the signal. They won’t be permanently disabled—they will be permanently destroyed.”

“You’re serious?”

“Completely.” His eyes are hard, angry behind his lenses. There’s nothing duplicitous in his aura, and Bastian nods, but wants to try just one more thing.

“Why tell me this? You didn’t have to, you know. I could have been a plant by Deign.”

“I know.” Owen shrugs slightly. “But you’re not. Everything you say is chosen carefully. You never lie, but you’re never fully telling the truth. You know what’s going on and how it’s being done, but you’ve figured out a way to hide things even from her. You’re an ally, even if you don’t know it.”

“You realize you’re helping the Exiled, right?”

“The Exiled didn’t create an army of Damascus they couldn’t control and kill my family. The Exiled haven’t tried to repeat the situation either.” He locks his gaze on Bastian’s, as if trying to will him to read between the lines. “Just let them know that all they need to do is recreate the pulse device.”

“Got it.”

“Good.” Owen smiles and straightens. “Thank you. I think that’s all,” he says a little louder as he switches off the interference device and shoves a smaller one into Bastian’s palm as he shakes his hand. “Thanks for your help. I’ll see what I can do with this. But I’m going to need to interrupt your schedule again, I fear.”

Bastian watches the man as he begins to go about his tasks and nods at his back before returning to the custody of his babysitter patrol. Odd things seemed to be coming together. Odd, but good. Finally he has something solid to report to Sai. Finally he can test his limits with the core again.

Sai wakes up to a commotion outside her door. Someone is trying to get in and not being too subtle about it. She frowns as she pushes herself out of bed and stumbles to her feet. Her dream still echoes through her mind, causing disorientation. Bastian was the guest star again. Still trying to make sense of the conversation, she sneaks over to the door.

Cursing, she swings it open to see Kayde’s worried face.

Any contemplations about her dream fly out of her head immediately. Her first thought is something’s happened to Dom—that he’s taken a turn for the worse and isn’t going to recover after all. In a way, she’s been preparing for it for days, but what she isn’t prepared for are the words that come out of Kayde’s mouth.

“Aishke is hurt. They’re a couple of hours out. Something backfired with her core when they melded.”

“What?” Her voice sounds distant even to herself, and her vision swims. She lifts a hand and feels wetness on her fingertips. Perhaps it’s the tears making her vision swim.

Kayde lays a hand gently on her shoulder. “Sai. We need you in the loading bay when they get in. Get ready.”

“Of course,” she answers and steps back into the apartment. Kayde follows. “Aishke’s been through so much. She doesn’t need this.”

“I know.” Kayde hovers just at the edge, as if afraid to get too close.

Sai shakes her head, trying to keep herself grounded. The communication link with Bastian, while almost over, was interrupted and her vision is doubling, casting back and forth from subliminal to reality. “Sorry. I need… Aishke hurt. Need to shower and report to the loading bay. Check. Got it.” She gathers her willpower up and stands straighter.

Kayde smiles and fetches a change of body armor for her. Sai eyes it, suddenly woefully aware that all she seems to wear anymore is the adaptive armor that hugs her like a second skin. “Thanks.”

“I’ll wait for you out here,” Kayde says, grabbing a ration bar from the kitchen bench and sitting on the couch.

As Sai nods, her gaze rakes over her kitchen. It looks older now, even though it’s not even a year since she moved in. There are scuff marks across the bench where one of Aishke’s episodes sent something flying. A dullness hangs over it, making it appear more grey than white.

“Sai?”

Kayde’s eyes reflect concern and Sai forces a smile. “It’s okay. I’m just thinking too much.”

The steam is hot and helps wake her up. She’s pulling the sleeves of her body armor down as she walks back out, stretching her neck, morphing her legs, getting ready for the worst. She feels much better than when she first woke up. “That’s it. Head in the right place.”

“Where do you usually have it? Under your arm?”

“Dom.” She smiles despite the current situation and takes three long strides to fling her arms around him. He’s not as stable as usual, and they stagger for a couple of steps. She laughs, feeling so much more at ease. “Sorry.”

“I was worried.” He frowns. “You’ve been there every day when my stasis pauses.”

“Sorry. Bastian visited. Aishke is injured…” She shrugs, and suddenly all the worry comes flooding back. She looks around for a moment. “Where did Kayde go?”

Sai is quite certain what flickers through Dom’s expression is irritation, but he answers anyway. “Said I should wait for you to finish your shower, she had somewhere else to be. What’s wrong with Aishke?”

“I don’t know. She’s injured. They’ll be here shortly.”

“And Bastian?” he prods her, and she glowers at him a little.

“We need Mathur to hear this, too, and I don’t feel like repeating myself. Are you up to coming with me?” She glances at his leg as he falls into stride with her. There’s something off about his usual seamless cadence.

He nods and she pushes the issue a little. “How are your legs holding up?”

He watches her for a moment before responding. “Well, considering chunks of them were removed, I barely feel the difference between the old and new adrium anymore.”

She nods, and they move at a good pace toward the labs. Her imagination keeps throwing images of Aishke in all sorts of bad states at her. The bloodshed needs to stop. She’s seen far too much death recently. It’s starting to make her feel nothing. And if she lets herself think about Iria… She shoves the darkness aside.

It’s not a long run to find Mathur, who’s just coming out of his quarters. The morning is young, before the usual waking time of any sane person not on a watch.

“Mathur.” She stops in front of him, adrenaline pumping as her mind sorts through the things that need to get done.

“It is I,” he quips, a kind smile on his lips. “Is this about Aishke?” The smile fades just a little.

She shakes her head. “It’s about Bastian.”

“Oh?”

“He said the new lieutenants will be divided amongst existing groups of patrols. They will act as a catalyst for the pulse once it’s sent out. It won’t just disable—it will destroy.”

Mathur stops in the middle of the walkway. “Any idea how?”

“Owen—the replacement for those…” She eyes Dom. “The new head of the Domino Project. While not a part of the Exiled, he has his own reasons for wanting them shut down. He sought out Bastian.”

“I see.” This time Mathur’s smile isn’t friendly. “We find allies in the strangest places. You go be there when she arrives. I will wake Garr and get her down to the infirmary so we have all the skilled hands on this that we can. If I understand correctly, Mason is injured, too, just nowhere near as badly. Darrien called it in.”

Sai nods and heads toward the loading bay, finding it difficult to keep the sickening feeling confined to her stomach. It keeps trying to claw a way out of her throat.

There’s a lot of commotion in the loading bay. A lot of people Sai is sure are just there to watch. They’re cluttering up the entrance.

“If you aren’t necessary personnel, please leave the docking area.” She keeps her tone calm and smooth and levels what she hopes is an element of command into it.

Several people look at one another, a slight blush to their cheeks before they head out. She feels a little guilty. Most of them are probably just trying to check if Aishke’s okay, but if there’s one thing she knows her friend dislikes, it’s being on display.

“It’s okay, Sai.” Dom puts his hand around her shoulder and squeezes it lightly.

She leans into him, careful not to put too much weight on him in his current condition. “It has to be, Dom. This is all my fault. I should have gone with them. I should have taught her better or more or something. I’m sick of losing people who matter.”

His eyes shade over, losing the silver glow for a moment. “Did they really matter, Sai?”

She scowls bitterly at his candor. “Aren’t parents supposed to matter?”

“They weren’t really parents.”

“True.” She purses her lips and changes the subject. “I get that one person’s life is worthless if sacrificing it can save a thousand. But you know, in hindsight, I’d prefer my one Aishke over anything else. I think I’m selfish.”

“I don’t think you are. But I’ll let you pretend for a while.” There’s a smile in his tone and a reassuring soft squeeze of his hand.

They stand there, just resting lightly against each other like that, until the transport gets raised to the loading bay.

Her heart beats faster, and she steals herself against the inevitability that Aishke could be far worse than they think. She stands back as the door opens and the healthier troops limp out. Mason is aided by Kayde, a bandage around his head and chest and a stumbling gait. Sai frowns after him until she spies them wheeling Aishke out of the corner of her eye.

Ash’s tawny skin is paler than usual against her pink-tinged hair, but otherwise she looks perfect. Sai’s nerves are wrecked, and she follows them back to the infirmary with no idea what the hell she’s supposed to do to help her best friend. Except heal. Heal.

Once she understands what’s wrong with her.

Dom follows her quietly, a few feet behind. If she listens closely, she can hear a hitch to his step. It’s the one thing that tells her he isn’t quite his old self yet. “If you need to rest, please do.”

He reaches over and squeezes her hand briefly. “I will be fine.”

She nods, a little absent-minded, as they approach the infirmary. It’s quiet, even though Mason is already lying in one bed, his blue eyes gazing at the ceiling as if it’s the most interesting thing on earth. Sai frowns as Kayde tends to him. His wounds mustn’t be serious, even if he’s more drained than she’s ever seen him. She looks a little closer and is startled to realize there’s something…missing from him. But she can’t quite figure out what.

Her attention snaps back to Aishke as they move her onto the bed. She doesn’t appear to have been touched. There is no blood, no abrasions, no scratches, not even a bruise visible on her pale skin. Pale? Sai frowns. Regardless of being in the sun or not, Aishke’s skin usually has a healthy golden glow to it—a strange tawny-brown mixture. It’s not just pale. Her skin is pasty white. She reaches out with her senses and almost stumbles back before breaking contact.

“What’s happened to her blood?” she asks as she pushes through frantically and stands next to Jeffries.

“What do you mean?” he murmurs, checking her eyes, her pulse, and her shallow breathing.

“It’s like she’s completely anemic.” Sai touches her friend’s arm and closes her eyes and reaches out tentatively, confirming the almost complete lack of red blood cells. “Anemic—dangerously so,” she murmurs, eyes still closed and reaching farther in.

There’s something wrong about the way Aishke’s body is responding. It’s sluggish, like it’s in stasis and on hold. Sai frowns, uncertain if she should proceed. She pulls her presence out of Aishke’s body, squinting in the light to see if there’s anything she can see with her eyes this time.

“Her breathing is slow.” Dom points out what should have been obvious. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was in stasis or frozen. Cryogenic-like. You know the stories, right?”

Sai nods and reaches out a hand to touch Aishke’s. Her skin is soft and clammy to the touch. A second after their skin makes contact, Aishke’s eyes open suddenly. And then her scream begins. The sound chills Sai to the bone.

It last about five seconds, but that’s five seconds too long. Sai regains her balance faster than everyone else and pushes the others away from the bed. There’s something inside of Ash, something terrifyingly powerful and inherently evil. Every time she gets injured, every time she opens up, it’s there lurking.

“Leave her with me. I need peace and quiet for this. Jeffries and Dom stay with me, just in case. The rest of you get out.”

It doesn’t escape her notice that Mason didn’t so much as blink when his daughter screamed.

“Do you know what’s wrong with her?” Jeffries sounds drained and desperate.

“I might have an idea.” Sai feels the way he looks. If her idea falls flat, she has nothing to fall back on. “I just need you to watch both of us. You can either dive in with me, or you can guard us from outside. Either way I need you both to act as a failsafe in case I get pulled into whatever maelstrom made her scream like that.”

“Yeah, you go in…” Jeffries laughs nervously, and Sai understands his reticence. He’s an old-fashioned healer. Most of it is physical skill as his psionic abilities are limited. He uses them to reinforce his work.

Dom squeezes her hand before letting it go. It’s odd how much his reassurance helps. She closes her eyes and focuses on melding with Aishke the way she has countless times in training.

Usually it’s like phasing through a vast clear area. But now there are projectiles, arrows of power, glittering daggers suspended in the air, threatening to careen her off-course, to upset her balance and send her spiraling out of the phase. Trying to dodge the interference to get to where Aishke’s center is requires intense concentration.

There are traces here and there of places her consciousness has been, but overall, it’s empty of anything she associates with Aishke. Like a void, it tries to suck her in, tries to soothe her into believing this is the place she should be.

If she could glare in there, she would, but instead she exerts her sense of determination and proceeds downward to the core. Just like she thought—there, in a bubble far too tiny to contain all of what makes up Aishke, is her consciousness.

Sai frowns. Ash is obviously straining against the bubble, trying to get out, squashing in something far too small for all of her that there is. But even Sai can feel the pull, the lull, the reassurances that got her there. While not exactly the same, it has a similar tug to the parasite that keeps trying to coax her and Dom.

The core is brighter than ever before, and the realization hits her—it’s feeding off Aishke.

There’s only one way to break down that wall, and that is to use brute force. There’s every chance Aishke could be lost forever, but if she doesn’t do it, then they’ve lost her for sure.

Aishke’s heart stutters, and the echo shudders through the void, replacing the thrum with a high-pitched shriek. Sai focuses her power on pulling Aishke up and out of the bubble. The screeching in her head grows louder, the protesting darkness buffets her against the sides of her own consciousness, threatening to try and take over.

With one last determined pull, Sai frees Aishke from the bubble prison, an audible pop and an angry but final screech in her ears.

“Sai?”

She opens her eyes and blinks at how blurry the ceiling is. Her head is pounding and her gut feels like she just got poisoned—writhing and nauseated.

“Don’t sit up,” Dom’s voice cautions her, but she has yet to focus on exactly where it is he is. Still, not sitting up sounds like a fantastic idea, so she obliges.

Instead, she closes her eyes and focuses on the sounds in the room. She can hear people moving around, opening sealed packets, clanking on some of the instruments while they swish the tips in sterilizer. Strange, how despite everything, they still rely on a liquid form of sterilization.

Old habits die hard.

Sai breathes out slowly, her chest heavy. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s okay.”

Sai frowns at the tone of Dom’s voice. “Is Aishke okay?” She directs the question to be more specific.

Dom chuckles softly. “Yes. Aishke is okay.”

She scowls at his evasion. “But not good, right?”

“Not good. You need to rest. Jeffries has this under control.”

Sai resists the urge to snort at the comment and tries to listen for something instead. If she concentrates really hard, she can hear Aishke in the bed next to her. Her breath is shallow and pained, if the short gasps are anything to go by. But if she’s gasping, it means she’s alive. So for right now, Sai takes it as a victory.

For a while she drifts in and out of consciousness, acutely aware of Dom’s hand resting next to her arm, of the way he occasionally taps a foot, of the flurry around Aishke’s bed.

“Sai?” This time the voice belongs to Jeffries.

“Mmm?” she asks without cracking an eye open. It’s comfortable and sleep is beckoning far too convincingly for her to want to stand up.

“Sai. You need to wake up. I can’t have you falling asleep again on me.”

“Why?” she pouts, not liking the instruction.

“Because when you fell, you smacked your head on the ground and knocked yourself out for a bit. You’ve probably got a concussion. So just humor me and don’t fall asleep quite yet.”

“Oh.” Why did he have to go and make sense?

She opens her eyes and pushes herself to a sitting position. At least, that’s the plan. What actually happens is more akin to wailing in pain and thudding back down on the pillow none too gently, cringing as her head reverberates with the impact.

Even though her eyes are tightly shut, Sai can hear Jeffries sigh. “I didn’t tell you to sit up.” His voice is soft and gentle.

“What is it you’re not telling me?” Suspicion tugs at her mind.

“Nothing.”

“Yet. There’s definitely something you’re not telling me yet.”

“There’s other things I have to take care of first, and I’m waiting for some tests to come back.”

Sai’s breath hitches. Aishke has to be fine. “Is she…is she okay?”

“She is definitely okay right now, and I don’t see why she wouldn’t be tomorrow unless you get her to do something stupid while she’s recovering like, oh, say, blow up something.” There’s impatience back in his tone, more like the old Jeffries who questioned her motives.

Sai can see him cross his arms out the corner of her still partially closed eyes. “It’s okay, Doc. I feel a bit like death warmed over, so I’m going to lie here for a while and make like a corpse.”

“Just don’t imitate the non-breathing part and we’ll be fine,” Jeffries says as he leaves the room.

“Listen to him for once.” Dom’s tone is more somber than usual. The whole situation is. There’s a nagging feeling in the back of Sai’s mind—something she tried to remind herself to tell everyone—but it’s playing elusive and evading her grasp.

“I don’t have time to be sick, and you are the last person who should be telling me anything like that.” Sai tries to struggle into a sitting position but gives up in frustration and exerts some of that energy into a trickle of healing instead. “I hate lying down,” she finishes.

“Why are you so determined to sit up?”

“I want to see if Aishke seems okay.” Sai’s voice is soft, just in case the other girl is awake and can hear her.

“She’s pale, but her color is coming back slowly. Jeffries said her brainwaves are back to normal.” He puts a hand on Sai’s arm and pats it awkwardly. “She’ll wake up soon.”

Sai closes her eyes again, reminding herself not to fall asleep. “There’s something I need to remember. Something I think I thought of while I tried to burst that bubble.” It’s better to talk out loud than to fall asleep and risk coma, synaptic burnout, or even death.

“Bubble?”

“She was in this bubble, behind the core, squashed into it—trapped. It was horrible and just wrong…” Sai shrugs and feels the pain in her head crank up a notch. Even the light starts to sting her eyes.

“You burst the bubble?” Even Sai can hear the mirth in Dom’s voice.

“Not like that, you idiot.” She closes her eyes, trying to be irritated because if she laughs, she knows her head will hurt more. “This entire room is too bright for me and my head is pounding.”

“Reaction headache.”

“What?”

“You have a reaction headache from overextending yourself too much.”

“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Sai regrets the words as soon as they’re out of her mouth.

“Right now, I’m probably the prime example of it.” The bitterness in his voice is uncharacteristic of the confident and controlled Dom she knows. Then again, so was ripping forty-odd attackers to shreds in no time flat.

“Dom…don’t do that.” She reaches out and barely brushes his arm.

“Do what?” He sounds tired, which is unusual for him.

“I didn’t mean anything by that—just that you’ve overdone things, too. You’re only human.”

“Don’t.” Dom’s voice is icy. There’s a sudden distance between them as he looks at her, the colors swirling rapidly through his eyes. “I’m not human. We’ve proven that. Just because it’s part of my origins doesn’t mean I aspire to be like that. I can’t afford to be that weak!” He stops, and his eyes melt back into silver spheres, a hand flying to cover his mouth.

“I’m so sorry, Sai. I just…” He pushes his chair away and makes to stand, but Sai grabs the hand still resting on the bed.

“No one being is perfect, Dom. Every domino will have weaknesses, and you’ll have close calls. You were never immortal.” She tries to put all the reassurance she can into her words.

He laughs. “If I ever need to be taken down a few pegs, I know I can count on you.” Dom sits back down and rests his forehead against the bed. “Thanks,” he mutters so softly she can barely hear it.

She strokes his strange adrium hair and its glittering coppery-red strands. Sai isn’t entirely sure how long they stay sitting that way, but it’s quiet and relaxing.

Ash is obviously straining against the bubble, trying to get out, squashing in something far too small for all of her that there is. But even Sai can feel the pull, the lull, the reassurances that got her there.

The core is brighter than ever before, and suddenly the realization hits her—it’s feeding off Aishke.

Sai’s eyes snap open. She feels Dom’s hand stir on the bed next to her and frowns as she tries to move. Her head is still pounding, but she has to see for herself if Aishke is okay.

Finally sitting upright, she looks over slowly, her eyes blurring every now and again as the room swings in and out of focus, and a trickle of healing only helps slightly.

Aishke is lying in bed, her pale form flat against the sheets, almost as if her body doesn’t have any actual volume to it. Her chest rises and falls shallowly, and her skin appears clammy. Sai frowns as she takes it in. Her friend doesn’t paint the healthiest picture.

“Sai?” Dom’s brows furrow in confusion. “You’re supposed to be lying down.”

“I can’t. It’s trying to kill her.” Because she knows now. Even though the bubble burst, it still has its hooks in her. It might be slower in its feeding frenzy, but it’s still there. Chipping away. Morsel by morsel.

“What is?”

“The core. The thing I taught her to use is trying to feed off her.” The feeling in the pit of Sai’s stomach must be revulsion. Loathing at the knowledge she introduced that thing to her friend and to so many others. But she can’t think about the others yet. Can’t think about any of them.

“Feed off her?” Dom’s tone sounds dubious, and he stands up to stretch out his limbs.

“It’s trying to—”

“Lure her into its center and keep her there, feeding off her until they both burn out.” Jeffries stands at the door, looking tired. “You’re right. I just got the tests back. If the chemical readings are anything to go by, she’s been overusing her power. Even though Mason said she hadn’t released it before collapsing.”

He glances up from the readings in his hand. “I think these are telling me what happens when the core is used.”

“I’m killing us?” Sai can’t push her tired brain past the fact she’s led everyone she’s ever known to their doom. Why can’t she stop the killing? All she ever does is kill people.

“You’re not killing us.” Jeffries shakes his head as he gently pushes her back down onto the bed. “Stop stressing. It’s not going to help your head any. And it’s definitely not going to do me any good either. It’s not easy dealing with one of you, let alone all three of you.”

He moves to the other side of the room before coming back and placing a compress on her head. It’s a small pack he puts at each temple. “That should reduce the concussion. I didn’t have them charged before. It’s been a bit hectic in here as of late.”

Sai tries to protest and sits up again, checking herself and the strands of her power.

“If you don’t lie down voluntarily, I will have you strapped down, Sai. I really don’t have the time or the patience for this sort of self-involved behavior. So cut it out.”

She blinks and nods.

“Good. You aren’t killing them. Nothing but old age is currently guaranteed to kill them. But what it seems the core is guaranteed to do is to lull you into a different state of mind.” He pinches his brow for a moment before continuing. “This core you discovered is indeed the root or the source of our abilities. For some people, it is a huge pool of gleaming white power. For others, it’s just a tiny marble, a trickle of what you or Bastian or Aishke would have. With me so far?”

“Yes,” Sai answers, her voice small.

“It seems the more you tap into this core of power, the more you use it, the less you will be able to resist doing so. It’s like a drug that’ll permeate your system and eventually try to take it over. In a sense, every time you use the ability, it’s giving yourself a chance to be taken over by it.”

“Sort of like leaving our consciousness there. Like we’d be in a catatonic state until it bleeds us dry?” Sai looks up at him, the question in her eyes.

“Exactly.” He leans against the bed, an odd eagerness in his eyes. “Now, how did you figure that out?”

“I saw her, huddled in this tiny space, trying to break out of the confinement. All the while, the shining light around her just wanted to keep her—and me, too. It even tried to reach out to me, lulling me into a false sense of belonging. It was odd and scary and made me burst the bubble too fast and rebound the way I did.” Sai can hear the panic in her own voice and takes a deep breath. “What does this mean?” It’s hard for her to put the vulnerability out there, but if she doesn’t know—if she can’t use her abilities to their utmost without endangering people or at least knowing what potential consequences could be—then she’s more of a detriment than a help.

“Don’t give into it. It’s that easy. Do not use your core unless you have to. Don’t let it become the easy way out. Don’t listen to it and tap into it just because you can. Use it only when you have a dire need and a guaranteed will to escape—that will get you back out. You may have pulled Aishke from its maws today, but I can’t guarantee that, at this point in time, anyone else will be able to accomplish what you did.”

“Use the ability only when absolutely necessary or suffer potential consequences.” Sai closes her eyes. Got it. She should have known the core was too good to be true.

“Not even to practice, Sai.”

“Understood.” She sighs before continuing. “When do we get her out?”

“I’ll send you back in, with heavier monitoring, once you’ve had some rest. She’s almost in the clear, I think, but it’s still tapped into her somehow, like a trickle.”

Sai watches the shallow rise and fall of her friend’s chest and tries to belay the panic that rises within. She nods slowly, digesting Jeffries words, and wonders if maybe Aishke’s core has been leeching at her this whole time. After all, she was blasted awake.

He squints over at Aishke and back at Sai. “Get some rest. We’ll wake you in a few hours and try it then. But you’ll need to be careful because I can’t let you do this unless you’re alert enough to.”

“Sleep, heal, and recharge. Got it.” Sai closes her eyes after one last look at Aishke. There is no way she’s letting another friend die because of her. Not ever again.

Dom leaves Sai in the infirmary once she’s finally finished helping Aishke, and heads to see Mathur. The last time they worked on the pulse device, he fried a kernel. Dom has to see it and make sure the plan they have is still viable. He’s starting to get those weird feelings Sai always talks about.

Dael, Evan, and Joe are puttering around the laboratory when Dom walks in. Each of the dominos nod at him, but only Dael approaches him.

“How are the implants?” they ask, genuine concern on their face. “We heard you were repaired by Garr?”

“She did a great job. The additional adrium has almost fully integrated with my original body. I barely notice the difference between them now. Almost back to myself.” They don’t need to know his reservations or his fears. Neither do they need to know his wariness of everything around him now.

“You had us worried. We didn’t realize we could get injured.” Dael watches him for a moment. “Did you really take on thirty attackers?

“It’s a bit of a blur.” A bloody blur of a strange need for carnage he still isn’t quite sure how to express. “And it was probably closer to forty myself. Why?”

“That’s impressive. That much coordination, that much control. I’m not sure I’d be able to do that and come back to myself.” Dael reaches forward and pats him on the shoulder in an awkward gesture of camaraderie.

Dom pauses. “What do you mean? Not sure you’d be able to do what?”

Dael blinks. “Give control over to the adrium.” They look confused now.

“How do you know that? I mean…” Dom stops and tries to rephrase it. “Giving control over—you sound like you’ve done it before.”

“Twice.” Dael shrugs. “The parasite can be tempered by our humanity and the humanity is strengthened by its will to survive, but it can be reckless. That you came back from so much…is admirable.” This time they smile and Dom nods.

“I didn’t think of it that way.”

“None of us did before…” Dael gestures around them. “Before this became our home. We’re still finding out who and what we are. Thank you for guiding us.” They incline their head and head back to their workstation.

Dom walks over to Mathur. “Hey,” is all he says, mind still on the conversation with Dael.

Mathur doesn’t even glance up from his work, but raises an eyebrow and responds in kind. “Hey.”

Dom glances around the lab and frowns. “How goes the device? Any more hiccups?

Mathur’s hands hesitate, and he blinks rapidly a few times before shaking his head.

A few moments of silence lapse, and Dom tries to change the subject slightly. “Close to finished yet?”

“Almost.” Mathur smiles this time. “It has been a lot easier to work on with Dael, Evan, and Joe here. These old fingers are not quite as nimble as they used to be.” The smile crinkles the lines around his eyes, making Dom realize the man is far older than he acts or than Dom remembered. That the Exiled are relying on him so much, placing so much pressure on the man…doesn’t sit well.

He pats Mathur on the shoulder. “You should rest up some. Is there anything I can do to help you?”

The man doesn’t look up when he answers. “Heal yourself.”

Dom tries again. “Not everything rests in your hands, you know. We’ve got a pretty good idea of how to handle this.”

This time Mathur smiles at him.

Mason sticks his head around the doorframe. “You got a moment? We need to convene for a bit.”

“Without Sai?” Dom asks, an eyebrow raised in question. It’s strange how he can still feel mimicked expressions.

“She’s still asleep and needs it. Ash is…” Mason looks away, but not in time to hide the wetness in his eyes. “Ash is recovering slowly.”

Dom leans back, crossing his arms. “What happened, Mason?”

Mason’s shoulders sag, and he enters the room, limping slightly on his left leg. “She took point because of how much she’s trained and how much I think she wanted to prove that Sai doesn’t need to do everything. There were two patrols left behind. We took out the first without using any core abilities, but something went wrong with the second. The power she gained was huge—a pull from myself and Darrien—but a child ran out from the rubble just as she was releasing.”

He takes a breath and looks down. “She pulled part of the release back into herself and screamed. Still managed to disable most of the patrol so it was easy to put them down with minimal effort, but when we were done and the child was safe, Ash was huddled on the ground, shaking and staring at nothing. After about an hour she just went still, breathing shallow. I thought we’d lost her.”

Dom glances through the door at the deserted hallway. He isn’t sure how he’d handle that happening in front of him, especially if it was Sai. “You didn’t. Sai and Jeffries managed to disconnect her core completely. You’re not too well yourself.”

Mason smiles, but it sags against his face like his skin doesn’t quite fit anymore. “I’m well enough to do what needs done.”

Jeffries’ entry into the room cuts Dom’s retort off. The man perches himself on one of the tall lab stools.

Finally, Garr enters and Dael closes the door behind them—a strange sound of finality.

Mason clears his throat. “We pulled some of you out of bed—” His gaze falls directly on Kayde, who has the good grace to blush while she yawns. “—and the rest of you out of your work because we’ve had some disturbing news.”

Jeffries stands up and clears his throat. He glances down at the reader in his hand.

“As you all know by now, we had an incident during the scouting mission we just returned from. We’ve only just been able to determine that, while attempting to assist in the destruction of one of the Damascus patrols left behind at the destruction of Mobile Phi, Aishke pulled some of the power back in on herself and injured her channels to such an extent she sought refuge in her core. This resulted in her entering a comatose-like state.

“To cut a long story short, if you or anyone under you is utilizing this core, you need to start being very careful. It’s not something that should be played with or practiced with. If you can access it, you can access it. But too much of it…seems addictive.” He shakes his head.

James frowns. “Darrien?”

“Darrien is fine. I checked him over, but it’s like a drug, James. Any of your troops who’ve been exposed to its usage, anyone who has accessed it even for a short period of time, will be subject to its pull.”

“It makes sense.” Kayde murmurs the words, and Dom snaps a glance at her. She’s nodding slowly, squiggling some strange calculations on the tablet in front of her. Her brow is scrunched, and there’s a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. But it’s not happiness…

It’s excitement. He can sense it.

“What do you mean, it makes sense?” Mathur moves closer, his eyes scanning whatever formula Kayde is fiddling with.

She holds up her right hand, still scribbling away. Her strokes become smaller, more definite. “That has to be it.”

She stands up, oblivious to the glares leveled in her direction. Dom leans forward, half-scared and half-eager to hear what it is she’s about to say.

“Psionics didn’t enter our systems until after the meteors hit.” She shakes her head, frowning slightly at the words. “Psionics only started occurring after the meteors hit, right?”

Mathur nods, as does Jeffries and Mason. Everyone’s eyes are on her, and a slight blush suffuses her cheeks as she continues. “And it was after the onset that we realized that psionics had become a gradual modification to the genome.”

Jeffries smacks his hand on the table in front of him and blushes before motioning for Kayde to continue.

She grins, her eyes sparkling, and for a moment Dom doesn’t resent her. There is no jealousy.

“As the modifications multiplied, creating the psionic gene and the dormant genes, we’ve had a gradual increase in psionics born. Many of these have been…tapped out by the GNW.” Her mouth twists in distaste. “But what we’ve overlooked this whole time, even almost a century after they landed... is that the metal inside was alien, and therefore whatever it sent into our atmosphere that gradually adjusted our species’ makeup…was alien, too.”

Mason is pale, and his breathing rasps throughout the room.

James speaks softly, a tremor around the edges of his voice. “You mean to say…the meteors are what caused the psionic gene?”

Kayde grimaces. “Sort of. The meteors housed adrium, along with its parasite. When they entered the airstream—much as I’m doing with Ebony—there are certain conditions that enabled them to sync with some of us. It has to be it.”

Dom takes a step back, horrified. In her eagerness, has she even realized what it is she’s saying? Doesn’t she understand? “You all have it, too.”

Kayde nods, and the shine to her eyes disappears as her jaw sets. “Every single one of us with a psionic ability has an active parasite inside us. Just a small one that tugs on our life force, feeds off our electricity, and if it can get us in the right place, it’ll feed until there’s nothing left. Like the GNW does, but inside us.”

The room falls silent. Dom scans each person. Dael’s eyes are shooting through a rainbow of colors, but skipping red. Joe and Evan aren’t moving either. Mason takes two steps and collapses heavily into one of the smaller chairs. He seems frail, defeated almost.

“If we use it too much, it drains our life force until all that’s left is a husk.” Jeffries’ tone reflects a sadness that’s almost tangible.

“Wait.” Mathur holds up a hand. “I have used much of my psionic abilities. I have never used my core, and I am not draining.”

“You’ve probably got enough latent power that it doesn’t need to feed you more. I don’t know the exact science. I only just came up with this calculation. I need more time to study it, but the theory…” Kayde shrugs. “That’s solid.

“What do we do?” Mason coughs, and it’s rasping and sickly. Dom watches him, suddenly acutely aware that Bastian’s brother isn’t just worn out. He’s using too much of his own life force to generate his psionic abilities.

Jeffries shrugs. “You don’t give into the pull. That’s all we can do.”

“It’s easy for you to say.” Mason’s grin is crooked, and his eyes appear haunted. “You don’t have a ton of defenses triggered to your imprint.”

“Reassign them.” Dom steps forward. “I can take them. Dael can…we can help.”

Mason nods. “I didn’t realize it was consuming me. I thought I was just worn out.”

Dom doesn’t want to harp on the fact that the man looks like a walking corpse.

“So there’s no cure?” James face is flushed with annoyance now.

“If you get caught up in it, there is no cure. Just a way for Sai to ‘disentangle’ you.” Jeffries pauses for a moment. “Sai may not always be available, though. I’d rather she use her abilities less than usual for now. I’m not sure how much of her power is human to begin with.”

“To be fair, Jeffries,” Dom pipes up, even though his mind is racing with the new development. “She’s only out of it right now because the force sent her flying back into the floor. If she didn’t have the concussion, she’d be fine.”

Jeffries smiles back, but Dom can tell it’s with effort. “True. Still, she’s not a one-stop-fix-everything shop. People need to take responsibility for their own actions and just limit the contact they have with their core and the amount they give into the lull for power.”

“But is it just the core?” Kayde’s voice is soft, but Dom knows the whole room heard her. The collective gasp is indication enough.

She blinks up from her screen and winces. “Sorry. Thinking out loud.”

“What do you mean?” Mathur ventures, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair.

Kayde hesitates, but squares her jaw. “While it could be the abilities as a whole, there’s a chance it emanates from a central position. In this case, the core. I’m not completely certain of any of this. I mean…”

She flickers through several screens, a frown on her face, muttering, “I don’t know why no one stumbled on this before…”

Jeffries sits down. “They never looked for correlation before. It was always about controlling it, not understanding it.”

Mason clears his throat and speaks up. “Hopefully Sai can answer some questions for us when she’s recovered.”

“Why her?” Even Dom can hear the irritation in his voice.

“Because both she and Bastian have been willing to push their abilities, to figure them out more than anyone I’ve seen before.” Kayde’s eyes glow this time, her excitement obvious. “How long will she be out for?”

“She’ll be fine by tomorrow. She’s healing herself regardless of what I say anyway.” Jeffries leans back in his own chair, but there’s no smile. The room’s mood has lowered to somber.

“I want to see if she can work with me to figure out just how accurate this theory is.” Kayde makes another few squiggles on her tablet, frown firmly in place. For once, Dom doesn’t have to fight his jealousy. Right now, it feels more like dread.

Mason clears his throat, which turns into a short coughing fit. They all wait, pretending that he isn’t deteriorating before their eyes. Finally, he speaks. “We may as well continue. The dominos have received effective treatment from Mathur, and we’ll be working as one unit to help bring down the GNW.”

Most of the people in the room applaud, except for Dom and Dael. Dom glances at the slightly smaller domino and frowns. Their expression is unreadable, but determined.

Dael smiles and manages to make it far more inviting than Dom ever has. “There are some of us it’s taking longer to heal, but as of right now, when we’re ready to launch the initiative in several days, we will be with you. We will focus on the Damascus when the time comes. It’s only logical.”

The contractions seem to come easier the more Dael speaks, though they start off rather stilted and awkward. Dom feels a surge of pride.

“Fantastic.” Garr stands up and smiles. Even if it appears a little strained, it’s somehow just enough to make everyone in the room smile with her. “Everything I know, I learned from Mathur. I’ll leave it up to you to decide if that’s a good thing or not.” She winks at everyone and garners a little round of chuckles from the room. “Better. You all look like this is the end of the world. Well, it’s not. Unless you count it as the end of a pretty crappy era in human history and the beginning of a fantastic new one. Then I’ll let you count it as an end we really need. Don’t let something silly like the origin of psionics bother you. I can’t believe we didn’t realize it before.”

Even Mason smiles at that. Dom has to hand it to her—she has an amazing way with people. Even he feels effected by her charm.

“Like any superpower, it is dangerous. And so we must use psionics even more responsibly than we have.” She grins. “Onto the great news: we have allies in Central—more than just Bastian.”

Dom knows the rest. After all, he and Sai brought them Bastian’s news about Owen. Frowning, he quietly camouflages himself and leaves the room to check on Mele before making his way to the infirmary. Sai will want to know the news as soon as she wakes up.

The tension in the air is palpable. Not only can Sai feel it, she can taste it on her tongue. A growing sense of unease enveloping Alpha. And if she can feel it, she’d hate to see what it would do to an empath.

“Good to see you awake.” Marlena walks into the room, her soft voice carrying well in the silence. “You’re getting a little reckless these days.” Her frown is disapproving.

Sai blinks as the heat rushes to her cheeks. “I wasn’t being reckless. I was helping my friend.”

“Uh-huh.” But Marlena’s eyes sparkle. When Sai peers closer, there are wrinkles she’s positive weren’t there before.

“Are you okay?” she asks the girl they rescued from Central.

Marlena nods, but there’s a tension in her shoulders. Marlena is often tense, but in a different way. An efficient, no-nonsense way, not a stressed one.

“What’s wrong? What aren’t you telling me?” Sai pauses in her effort to push herself into a seated position.

“There have been some developments…” Marlena busies herself with affixing another set of the charged compresses to Sai’s temples. “And I’m not the one who should be talking to you about it.”

Sai twists to glare at her. “The concussion is gone—healing yourself will do that to you. I’m fine. Where is Jeffries?” She kicks her feet out from under the covers and pulls herself around, ready to kick off the side of the bed.

Marlena’s frown creases her brow in a way that has to be worry. “Sai, just…” She reaches forward and disconnects the modules on Sai’s head, squeezing her shoulder with a sort of reassurance. “Don’t drag the machine with you. We don’t have the budget to replace it.”

“You’re awake.” Dom pokes his head around the corner of the door. “Are you decent?”

This isn’t the first time her chest has tightened when he spoke, nor is it the first time she’s felt genuine relief at his presence. But this time it’s not because of how she feels. Right now it’s because he brings an odd sense of dread with him. “I’m always decent.” She steps down from the bed. “And you have news to tell me that can’t wait.”

He finishes stepping into the room, and she frowns, momentarily distracted.

“You shortened your hair.”.

“You don’t like it?” His tone is neutral, nothing to get a read on.

“It’s just different.” Of course it’s different. His hair doesn’t grow; it simply is and he can make it whatever he wants. “It’s not bad, though. It’s whatever you feel most comfortable with.”

He stands and watches her for a few seconds, and she realizes his hair is suddenly like it was. “You know that’s kind of weird, right?”

Dom shrugs and pulls up a chair, nodding to Marlena who busies herself tidying up all of the equipment from both Aishke and Sai. The other girl is sleeping, a serene look of relaxation on her slumbering face.

“No escaping it, Dom. Tell me.” She fixes him with her best no-nonsense glare that apparently rolls right off his adrium.

He raises an eyebrow in that strange way that momentarily distorts a section of his face and rolls his shoulders. The ripple almost carries through to his chest, where it becomes slightly displaced and out of sync as it continues.

“Stop distracting me.”

This time he laughs. “It was worth a try. After all, it still fascinates me that my chest wound isn’t quite right yet. Anyway…” He glances around, as if checking for someone who might have snuck in. Finally he focuses back on her.

“The core, that part of you that lends you so much power, the part that always made you black out before you got your new legs…”

“Yes?” She taps her foot impatiently.

“Turns out, that’s a type of parasite spore.” Sai blinks at him and he continues. “Launched into the atmosphere the moment the meteors struck.”

He watches her, lips pressed together, arms crossed.

Parasite? Inside her? That gives her power? She blanches and can physically feel the color drain from her face. All those people, her parents, were all killed because of this parasite. She chokes down on the immediate guilt that tries to suffocate her and tries to focus.

Her powers got much stronger after she got her legs—like they magnified it. “Shit. The GNW are right?”

He winces. “Apparently it’s more complicated than that. But Kayde would have to let you know. She figured it out. It’s what they’re all working on now.”

“Wait.” Sai holds up a hand, trying to wrap her head around it, thoughts diving in multiple directions at once. “By accessing the core, we’re feeding the parasite, but it’s also lending us strength?”

Dom blinks. “Maybe? Like I said, you’ll have to talk to Kayde.”

Which is exactly what Sai plans to do as soon as possible. Her awakening blast was her own, but without this parasite, without this spore, she would never have had the powers to begin with. She moves to leave the room, but Dom stands abruptly and puts his hand on her arm. His eyes whir for a moment, a swirl of silver cascading into white.

“I have a question to ask you.” His voice is soft, aware they have an audience.

“Fire away.” Sai grins at him, happy he’s here.

“I’ll never understand that saying.” Dom shakes his head and frowns. “I need to know how it was for you to adapt to your new implants—to your legs.”

“For your own implantations?” She closes down on the regret and dismay she has for her lost legs and tries to focus on all the positives about them. Walking, running, phasing—all still possible. The headaches from the synaptic grafts are a small price to pay. So she smiles and waits for him to elaborate.

“Exactly.” His expression is hopeful, like maybe she’ll have the answers.

“I didn’t have a choice, Dom, and they’re not the same. You sort of got a blood transfusion. You deal with the parasite on a daily basis. It’ll morph together soon enough and you’ll never know the difference.” She smiles at him to take any of the sting out of her words that she can. “My legs are foreign material. The rest of me is flesh and just as vulnerable as it always was. That’s something I can’t change.”

She shrugs, knowing it’s probably not what he wanted to hear. When she’d first been given the implants, it’d definitely not been what she had wanted to hear, but now the realization of how lucky she actually is overrides most of the worries she had. Except for the fact that apparently her psionics have meant she’s always had a form of parasite inside her. She shivers, suddenly cold, and her legs bleed in and out of a strange brown-blood-like color she can’t quite define.

He stares at her for what seems like an age before he smiles somewhat sadly. “I thought you might have an amazing epiphany for me. Though I do think I’m getting a grip on it.”

“I know you hate being reminded of your humanity, but it’s as big a part of you as the adrium, Dom. Don’t be angry at it for making you vulnerable. Be grateful that it gives you the moral compass to navigate the darker elements the adrium gifted you.” She watches him for a few more seconds, making sure her words are sinking in.

Slowly, he nods. “You’re right.”

“Of course.” She grins at him, even though there’s panic starting to filter into the back of her mind, even though if she pauses for a moment, she can sense the tug at her mind and her core. As if, with her new knowledge, her abilities aren’t trying to mask their origins anymore.

Dom frowns and catches her elbow with his hand. “You’re worried.”

She nods, knowing he probably saw it in her face. “I need to understand how this works. I was hoping to go and see Kayde.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Now?”

“Why not now?” she snaps, then closes her eyes and breathes deeply before proceeding in a calmer voice. “You said I should ask her, so I need to. I have to understand what’s inside me. I’m a weird cocktail of who-knows-what now.”

Dom doesn’t let go of her, even though she tugs. Finally she glares at him. “Let go.”

“There’s something else that’s bugging you, something you’re not even admitting to yourself.”

Well, now he’s eavesdropping again. Her words come out plaintively, though, and the worry overwhelms her. “Stop trying to get inside my head.”

He doesn’t let up. “Then tell me.”

“I want to know to what extent my little trick has been killing my friends.” The words are hard to squeeze out because the guilt is trying to choke her.

“Is that all?”

She blinks. “What do you mean is that all?”

“I mean, it’s always been there. You didn’t create it. The core, with its little parasite temptation, has always existed. It’s always enticed people to use more of their power. Some people have more of it, some people have less. You didn’t make it—you just made it easier to find and harness.” His tone is gentle and somewhat soothing.

Sai smiles and yanks her elbow away from him. “I still need to see her.”

He falls into step with her as she leaves the room. “I’ll let them know you’ll be along then.”

“For?”

“We’ve received a couple of emissaries from the outer cities. Not entirely sure how they found out about us or made it here, but I suspect we will find out.”

“Wait, we have outsiders on Alpha?” She stops in the middle of the hall, her eagerness at reaching Kayde stalled.

“A couple. There will be a few more soon. We’ll convene then.” He smiles. “Drag Kayde away from her research and bring her with you.”

He veers off and Sai stops to watch him go for a second. His gait isn’t as sure as usual, but it’s closer to normal than it has been. She’s glad he seems to be getting better. Doing this without him seems impossible.

She peeks around Kayde’s door. “Got a moment?”

Kayde balances two beakers, pouring a thin stream of liquid into a third. There’s a frown of concentration on her face, and not even her eyes flicker toward Sai. So she waits a few moments, very slowly and deliberately moving into the room.

Both of the pouring beakers empty at precisely the same time and Sai breathes a sigh of relief. Kayde breaks the silence. “You heard, then?”

Sai nods and moves to stand next to her friend. “Is it my fault?” As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she knows they reek of self-pity and selfishness.

But Kayde’s response is a sad smile. “Sooner or later, someone was going to figure it out.”

“Why has it taken this long? Surely someone, somewhere has dabbled with it before?” Sai has this need to understand, to know definitively.

“I can’t tell you that. What I can tell you is that the GNW—and the government before them—have kept such tight control over psionics, draining the most powerful they found of every drop they could. Not to mention the facilities to weed out those who were volatile or malleable. Ever since psionics arrived on the scene, no one has had the freedom to explore anything to a full extent.”

“But Bastian did or came close to it. He dulled from his first moments of awakening to disguise his power.” There’s got to be some hope in there for her. There has to be something to cling to.

Kayde purses her lips. “Because his family knew he would have strength. Because it’s what his father could see. After his mother’s death, the one thing the man did right was to warn Bastian to hide how strong he was. So while Bastian has bought himself a freedom no other strong psionic has had, he hasn’t been free to experiment just in case they locked him into the grid.”

Thoughts race through Sai’s head. She bites her lip sharply to try and ground herself.

“Sai?” Kayde moves closer and tilts her head up with the tip of her finger. “This has nothing to do with you. None of this is your fault.”

“Got it.” Sai nods, but her mind taunts her with images of Block 63 up in flames, of Aishke pale and sick, of the fifty dead people who waylaid them in that alley. The weapon she thought they had, the one breath of hope, now comes with so many strings attached that it might strangle them.

The training dummy strains under her flurry of attacks. It’s probably a good thing Dom had the idea to reinforce its skeleton with metal. It’s much easier to take her frustrations out on things when she doesn’t have to hold back.

“Can I come in, or would it be best if I backed away?” Dom leans against the doorway, arms crossed, exactly like she’s always remembered him. For a moment she wonders if the last week has been a figment of her imagination, but as he moves closer, his stride slightly altered, she knows that’s only wishful thinking.

“Enter at your own risk.” She means it to come out light-hearted, but the tinge of bitterness to her voice is hard to shake.

“Taking out your frustrations?”

Dom’s voice is soft, close to her, and she nods before slinging another punch, followed by a kick to the neck joint of the dummy. It keels over and rights itself, the weighted base springing into action. Sai bounces on the balls of her feet, arms positioned with her fists protecting her face, like she wants the world to fight her.

“You can’t take it personally.” His tone is sharper than she expects, and she stops bouncing for a moment, focusing on him instead.He inclines his head and continues. “You can’t take it personally Sai. This thing? It’s been around since millennia before you were born.”

She blinks at him and shakes her head, a laugh breaking past her lips. “It has, hasn’t it.”

He smiles. “Do you want to tell me what’s really wrong, or is it just one of those get-it-out-of-your-system things?”

Two more quick jabs at the dummy and she realizes the fire is gone. “Nope. Pretty sure it’s already out of my system.”

“Good. We have two more delegates arriving shortly. Will you be up to attending?”

She grins at him. “Aren’t I always?”

“You want me to answer that?”

The response makes her laugh. “Thanks, Dom.”

“Will there be anything else? How are you feeling otherwise?”

She takes stock as they leave the training room. “Tired, frustrated, and scared.”

“Tired, frustrated, and scared are now three things I can understand intimately.” There’s an undertone of derision to his voice that isn’t reflected in his stance.

“You thought you were invincible, didn’t you?” Sai smiles—and chokes down a laugh.

“Not invincible.” He shrugs as he falls into step with her. “I knew I could get hurt, but I never had. It never felt so immediate.”

They walk for a while in companionable silence. As they approach one of the meeting rooms, she can hear voices trickle out, hushed conversations sending shivers down her spine.

“We’re at war, Dom.” Saying it out loud is so final.

He doesn’t say anything. He just reaches out and squeezes her hand, holding onto it when he’s done. “We’re at war.”

She squeezes back, trying not to let the sudden attack of emotion get to her. “Someone has to win, right?”

Aishke seems small and frail in her bed. Observing the infirmary from a visitor seat is a novelty Sai decides she doesn’t like. If she peers in the corners of the makeshift place, some of the partitions are wearing down. The whole appearance of Alpha is less imposing than it was when she arrived. Bits and pieces of it falling apart, just like everyone in it.

Or perhaps she just didn’t notice it when she first arrived, so caught up was she in the cause.

She sighs and leans forward, head in her hands. The tiredness creeps up on her constantly, like this weariness that won’t let go. Surely she’s not supposed to feel like this at seventeen. Eighteen? Has her birthday come and gone?

“Sai?” Aishke’s voice is stronger than the first time she woke, and Sai lifts her head to smile at the younger girl.

“Look at you, talking and whatnot.” She shifts herself in the chair and reaches out a hand, catching Aishke’s and examining the once-again tawny tones.

“It’s that whole voice-box thing.” Aishke’s words cut out a little, like there’s a croak in her throat. She watches Sai with serious eyes. “You seem sad.”

Sai tugs out her ponytail and runs her hands through her uneven hair. “Not sad. Just worried.”

“About me?” Ash asks a little breathlessly.

Sai nods. “About you. About us. About everything.”

“I’m okay, and we can handle this.”

“You don’t even realize the danger we pulled you back from. The danger I might have put you in.” Sai stamps her feet and pushes up to a standing position. Her voice sounds hopeless even to her. “The core isn’t a secret weapon, and I don’t know if I can wean us off it and still give us any hope of winning this war.”

Aishke’s eyes grow larger with every word. Sai shouldn’t take it out on her, but there’s no one else to listen, no one else she has the power to make sit out of the conflict.

“What do you mean it’s not a secret weapon? It won’t happen again, Sai, I swear.” There are tears in her eyes, and Sai wishes it were easier, but this is the only way.

“The core won’t just kill us, Ash. It can take us over. Feed off us.” She grips her friend’s hand. “I had to pull you back. We’re lucky you protected yourself before it dug in. But I don’t have the strength to pull everyone back and still have enough left to fight.”

Sudden comprehension dawns in Aishke’s expression and she snatches her hand back, scowling. “You’re not leaving me behind.”

Sai shakes her head, fighting her own tears of frustration. “I have to. One more lapse from you, in the middle of battle, and I won’t be able to pull you back before you careen off to wherever it is our minds will go.”

“No. You need me.” Aishke pushes herself up in bed, her jaw stubbornly set. “You will push yourself too far, you’ll overdo it. If you have me there, I know you’ll think twice about everything.”

Sai swallows what she was going to say and mulls over the words. “You have a point.”

“Of course I have a point.” Aishke’s gaze intensifies. “I know what I did, and therefore I know how not to do it again. I won’t be pulling back this time. There won’t be a need.”

Sai can already feel her resolve weakening. “I’d really prefer it if you didn’t come…”

Aishke snorts softly, and when she speaks, there’s hardly any croak left to her voice. “No, you wouldn’t.”

She’s right. As much as she can’t afford to lose Aishke like she lost Iria, Sai also can’t afford to go into battle without her support. “Just promise me you won’t get dead.”

For a moment, a streak of sadness crosses Aishke’s face, but she forces a smile. “I promise.”

Sai doesn’t even care that it’s a lie.

Dom watches out of the corner of his eye as Darrien approaches Sai. There’s an uneasy tension to the man’s shoulders.

“Dom?”

He snaps his attention back to Dael. They’re watching him with a soft understanding he isn’t sure where they get it from. “What?”

“I don’t think I have all the vision filters you have.” They sound almost apologetic, and Dom shrugs off his irritation, keeping an ear out for Sai’s conversation while he concentrates on double-checking the abilities of all the other dominos. Several of them seem to be as whole as he is, while others are missing components and, oddly enough, morphing abilities.

He frowns, reaching out to scan Dael’s mind. “You’re right. I’ll make sure to assign you to a sector that won’t require infrared. We’ll leave you with thermal vision instead.”

“Right.” Dael nods but hesitates a moment.

“Back to the drills.” They nod again and rejoin the others. Dom watches them all, lining up to recalibrate their abilities after the tinkering that Mathur had to do and all their self-healing. He wants to tell them that it’s taking too long, but everyone knows they have a time limit.

“You can’t let her come with us. Experience or not, we can’t wait that long.” Darrien’s voice has risen a notch, and Sai stops her drill instruction to turn to face him. Dom listens, trying to appear not to.

“Don’t fight Aishke’s battles for her.” Her voice is calm, collected. “We won’t be waiting.”

“We can’t take her with us half-healed,” he persists, pushing further than Dom knows is wise. He almost feels sorry for the guy.

“Are you willing to bet your life on that?” Sai asks softly. So softly in fact that Dom is fairly certain he’s the only one paying enough attention to hear it. Her students are still running their throw drills amidst a series of soft grunts.

Sai speaks again when Darrien doesn’t answer, her tone sharper. “Are you willing to bet my life on that? The mission? The future of everyone on Alpha, of everyone in the PC?”

Darrien shrugs and looks away. Dom grins at his sudden resignation.

“I thought not.” She sighs. “It’s not that I want her there. For purely selfish reasons, I want her out of harm’s way. But we need her there, just in case.”

Sai turns back to her students, face grim, jaw set. “You’re getting sloppy. Raise that elbow when you aim for the throat, Leanne. You can’t hurt the dummy, but you won’t hurt anyone else either if you don’t learn the technique.”

She pauses and mutters so softly Dom strains to hear it. “You can go back to your drills now, Darrien. I need your division ready, too, thanks.”

Her head moves to glance in Dom’s direction, but he makes sure his eyes are back on his own contingent, even though he’s pretty sure she knows he was listening. Taking Aishke with them is still bugging her, but it’s better for it to bug her now than for her to come up short in the field.

As if on cue, a sliver of darkness tries to weave its way across his vision. He straightens himself and wills it away, closing himself off to intrusion—at least, he hopes he is. It lingers for a few moments, so much that he begins to wonder if it’ll ever go away entirely again.

A flash of the bloodlust lingers under his tongue, a brief jolt of adrenaline that threatens to undo him. He clenches his fists and centers himself. On Alpha, on Bastian, on Sai…

Slowly, the memories recede, the gleeful strength and strange lust for death vanishing almost in a sulk.

Fifty-Four—Lara, as she likes to call herself—is at his elbow. He’s not sure when she got there. Hell, he’s not even sure how long these small episodes last. But they leave him the equivalent of breathless, grasping for time he thinks he’s lost. He hasn’t had many, but he’s glad he told Kayde yesterday because they seem to be becoming a regular thing.

“Are you well?” she asks. Lara hasn’t mastered the human inflections of speech yet. Her voice has a strange underlying hiss they can’t seem to get rid of, and the way her eyes slit sometimes reminds him of a desert snake.

“I was just thinking,” he answers, trying to put her at ease with a smile. Although the expression isn’t as effective on dominos as it is on humans.

She blinks and nods. “I believe I only see in thermal vision. Will this handicap me?”

Dom sighs and shakes his head. Every day seems longer, and they have to squeeze as much out of each of them as possible. He places fingers against Lara’s temples and focuses for a moment. She’s right—thermal, it is. “I’ll send you with James. Since it’s the way you always see, you’re more used to it than the rest of us. You can pick out any human-based ambushes. Remember, Damascus will show up as a slightly colder area.”

She nods and rejoins the others.

Dom leans back, flexing the adrium in his chest as he watches his students and their groups. They’re trying to test their sight reflexes and align all of their senses through the different variations available to them. It’s a complex set of exercises, but necessary if they’re to be at peak performance.

His chest is almost back to normal, and his leg healed fully a couple of days ago. Just a couple of sluggish spots still when he ripples through colors. He’ll soon be good as new, with a profound new appreciation for life.

“Will you be at the meeting later?”

Sai stands next to him, her voice low, eyes scanning over the dominos as she frowns slightly.

“You’re getting very stealthy,” he murmurs, watching her for a moment instead. “Of course I will. Kayde is trying to develop a…suppressant? I think that’s what she called it.”

“For the parasite?” Sai raises an eyebrow, and if he focuses on her eyes, he’s sure he can see a million thoughts fluttering through her brain at once. He could intrude and hear them without her ever knowing, but that’s one temptation he knows to resist.

“In a manner of speaking. With my makeup, it’s more of a way to help me set up a barrier that it can’t get through.”

Sai blinks at him. “So a suppressant.”

Dom rolls his eyes. It’s harder to do than humans make it look. “Sure. Are you here for small talk?”

She shakes her head. “Just…checking.” She leaves it there because she doesn’t need to say more. They both know how much they rely on one another, how much they keep each other grounded and balanced. And just how badly things fell apart when it seemed the other might be gone.

Dom nods once curtly. It’s all she needs, and he claps his hands as she walks away. “Team up. Combat drills. Attackers, dull your edges. Defenders, use morphing capabilities to adapt for blows.” He watches them as they move easily into formation and comply. Maybe they have a chance. “Go!”

Maybe.

Kayde is balancing several beakers precariously on each other when Dom walks into her lab. Upon closer inspection, Dom realizes they’re more haphazardly discarded than balanced. He raises an eyebrow at the scientist, and she shrugs, somehow keeping both hands perfectly steady.

“What? I don’t have time to be tidy today.”

“I’m not used to the mess. You’re usually meticulous.” He refrains from making it a jab and instead smiles slightly to try and take the edge off. Before meeting Sai, he never worried about offending people, but she always wants to help everyone. Being nice to people seems the easiest way to do that.

“I have three different options stewing in my cooler. Once they’re ready, I’ll need you to trigger the…parasite and then see if it makes a difference.” She eyes him, her gaze cool but compassionate. “I know it’s not ideal, but we don’t have the luxury for me to run a full series of tests. You’re my guinea pig.”

Dom laughs, but the sound feels uneasy in his throat. “Do we have time for this? Don’t we have the final outfitting and supplies meeting?”

Kayde smiles. “Yes, we do. Right here in this very lab.”

Dom glances around the tiny room dubiously. “We’re all going to fit in here?”

She laughs, her tongue sticking out slightly as she deftly combines two gel-type liquids with another in a tray. “Of course we will,” she says as she pops that one in her cooler, too.

“Do you think this will work on others?” he asks, but he knows they couldn’t be that lucky. Nothing ever goes smoothly; it’s just not natural.

She turns around, and the sadness extends to her whole expression, where shortly before there was just the sheer joy that she got when solving a scientific riddle. “Perhaps. If it works for you and I downgrade the toxicity for human systems, then it could very well work. But they don’t have the adrium levels of innate healing. Right now, Dom, I’m not looking for the perfect solution. I’m seeking a stopgap measure that you can use so we can have you at full strength.”

He knows deep down that she’s right, that regardless of anything else he’s the strongest domino they have, even after the injury. But triggering his dark half comes so easily now. He needs to believe it can’t get the better of him, because if it does, he’s not sure he’ll know who’s an enemy and who isn’t.

Mason enters the room, a slight limp evident, pulling Dom from his spiraling thoughts. The man sits down, and his coat deflates around him so much that it seems draped over a coat hanger. He hasn’t just been tapping into his reserves to assist in shielding communications. After much examination, Sai and Mathur determined the parasite had somehow leeched into him, slowly draining him of energy. While it was good it didn’t take him over, the procedure to remove him from it is far too delicate for him in his current state. Dom doesn’t think he’s the only one worried that Mason won’t make it much longer.

“This one.” Kayde holds a small test vial under his nose.

Dom coughs, brought back to his own reality by the pungent odor in Kayde’s hand. “What did you put in that?”

Kayde winces. “You probably don’t want to know?”

Dom raises an eyebrow because Kayde is probably right. Not that it could turn his stomach, but still… He holds the vial in his hand and seeks the uncertainty, the one place of fear and recrimination that will beckon to his leech. Predictably it comes to the inevitable call. Slimy in its existence, it begins to coax him. He downs the repulsive-smelling vial and waits.

The parasite prods at his mind promising strength and death, carnage and glee.

Nothing happens, and Dom bats it away with his mind, hoping he can keep it up.

“Nothing?” Kayde asks, her eyes shining hopefully.

He shakes his head and her expression falls. Dom decides he kind of likes her, but won’t tell Sai that.

He was so busy concentrating on whether or not the suppressant had an effect, he missed a few new additions. James now stands in the back, muttering quietly to Jeffries. Argyle and Tyrell, two of James’ patrolling lieutenants who’ve come from their stations to help with the final step, stand with them. They’re all scrolling through readers, squashed awkwardly into a corner. Darrien sits next to Mason, holding a jar of something out for him. It’s got an odd, cloudy white look to it, and after extending his sense of smell, Dom realizes it’s liquid oxygen.

Garr walks in the room and leans down to whisper in Mason’s ear before gently nudging Darrien out of the way and taking over the seat. Once Mathur enters, the room is cramped. Dael and Evan file in and slot themselves next to Kayde’s cooler with a nod to Dom.

Sai’s the only one missing, and Dom knows she’s been training. They’ll forgive her for being late.

Garr claps her hands. Her smile is bright, but somehow a little wearier than the last time they gathered. “It’s almost time.”

The words echo with an air of finality in the small room. Sai slips in to stand by Dom, and Garr waits a moment before continuing. “Today is the final checklist day. We need to go over equipment, supplies, combat readiness, transports, and medical preparations.”

Jeffries clears his throat as Kayde wordlessly shoves another vial under Dom’s nose. He finally understands what gag reflex means. This one is worse than the first. He focuses on the trigger again, calls the parasite to him, tempts it to take him over, and gulps down the repulsive tonic.

Kayde said they were designed to absorb into the human tissue, into his mind, and leave a residue in the adrium that would help fend off the dark. The theory makes sense, but after a short while, there’s still no difference and Dom banishes it himself.

This time it’s more difficult. If the thing had claws, Dom would think it was sticking them into him. A sharp pain flares in his head; a flash of anger seeps into him briefly. It’s not stupid. Even this much experimentation is making it wary.

He finally shakes his head, and Kayde clucks her tongue with annoyance.

Dom focuses on Jeffries.

“We’ve modified several of the transports with Dael’s adjustments and will be—hopefully—close on hand with major supplies due to this.”

Garr nods, and Dom realizes he might have waited longer than anticipated to see if that sample took effect.

“Sai and Darrien have been putting the psionically gifted soldiers through the new drills. From what I’ve seen, they’re doing well. We’ve trained on how best to disable a Damascus, but…” Jeffries pauses. “We’re thinking our best bet is taking on the humans in Central.”

“As is the plan. Good to be prepared, though.” Garr pauses and glances at Mathur, who smiles softly.

He looks older again, his skin a little translucent, his hair almost white. “Pulse device is almost done. Almost. I will be cutting it very close.”

She nods at him. “Supplies—other than medical?”

Kayde fiddles with another of her petri dishes before pouring it deftly into a vial and placing it into her cooler.

“Kayde,” Garr gently prods her.

“What?” The scientist finally takes her eyes off her work and glances around. A blush spreads across her cheeks. “Sorry. Supplies are set. I’ve had Joe and Lara portioning them off for me. They’ll be ready in the next thirty-six hours. Individually divided.”

Garr glances at Dom. “And the dominos?”

“We’re in-sync and ready to engage.” The words feel strange to him, alien. Kayde surreptitiously hands him another vial as Garr nods once more.

“Mason will lead with Sai. He’ll patrol with Tyrell through several of the closer PCs.” Her tone is stern.

Sai speaks up anyway. “Is that…” She pauses, confusion written all over her face, as if she’s unsure of how to proceed.

But Garr seems to understand. “He’ll be fine in a couple of days.”

Dom glances at their leader, trying to believe her, but Mason doesn’t look like he’ll be okay—ever.

“If that’s all, we have things we need to do, places we need to be.” She smiles at everyone and helps Mason up. He doesn’t make eye contact with anyone else as he files out of the room.

Kayde pokes him in the shoulder. “Drink it.”

Dom takes a whiff and frowns. “What is this? Rubber water?”

She shrugs. “Pretty much. I figure it likes electricity, so it won’t like water or rubber, right?”

Dom blinks and Sai laughs.

Kayde glares at them. “I’m grasping at straws here. Give me some credit.”

Sai gives her a quick shoulder hug. “You’ll get all the credit, Kayde.” Even though the tone is lighthearted, Sai still seems a little down.

Dom grins at them, letting his triggers jump into play. It’s difficult to concentrate on anything while the leech wiggles through his consciousness. “Worth a shot, right?”

This time the parasite noticeably cringes after about a minute. It’s a small hesitation, a slight uncertainty. Dom decides he likes his parasite uncertain. “This one causes hesitation.”

Kayde smiles joyfully. “Then that’s a temporary go. I’ll keep working it, but I’ll make a few of these vials just in case, okay?”

Dom smiles back, grateful for the effort. It might be enough to regain any slippage of control. “Thanks.”

He glances around to look for Sai, but she’s gone.

After another session of double-checking synchronicity levels and deciding that Zon, formerly Eighteen, shouldn’t go out in the field because his visual and hearing specifications aren’t matching up, Dom finds Sai where he least expected to find her.

He steps into Mele, who is fully charged in the docking bay. Sai sits in the passenger seat, fully reclined, staring at the ceiling. He pushes down on the queasy feeling that’s been plaguing him ever since the parasite inside him tried to return with vengeance after the strange tonic from Kayde wore off.

That it can push him so far scares him. That it can be so subtle sometimes, so manipulative, terrifies him. And that he knows he won’t be able to control it if it takes him over again horrifies him.

He watches Sai, leaning back, somber-faced, lost in her thoughts.

“I know you’re there.”

Perhaps not as lost in her thoughts as he assumed. He steps fully inside and takes the pilot seat, pivoting it to look at her. “I think that was a wild guess.”

She snorts, and then a sad smile spreads over her face. “Nah. I always know when you’re close. Have for a long time now.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that, doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. But sitting here in this close silence, it calms him in a way nothing else does. The parasite becomes but a distant memory, the fear in his mind abates, and a level of certainty creeps in and gives him confidence.

“Is this healthy?” he asks softly.

Sai rolls her head slightly to look at him, and she knows, without asking, what he is saying. She shrugs. “I don’t care if it isn’t. It’s necessary, and it’s right.”

He leans back in his chair, swaying back and forth. They have no right to be this peaceful. They have no right to feel this serene. There is no right way to prepare for war.

Bastian runs a brush through his damp hair, staring in the mirror. He doesn’t see himself, though; he sees the images that flashed before his eyes while talking to Sai. Bodies on gurneys, bodies in the alley, bits and pieces scattered in the street.

His hand shakes, and he wills it to still. They’ve been at war so long, it shouldn’t bug him. But now they’re bringing it to the PCs, and if things go wrong, the body count will be astronomical.

At least the Exiled are as ready as they can be, regardless of the bad news about the core.

His hand shakes again, and he wonders if maybe, just maybe, he’s been infused by the parasite all this time. Always stronger, always more determined—a ruthless killer when necessity asked for it. But he’s always been in control, so maybe it’s the Shine.

On his way out, he rubs a sliver over his tongue in an effort to keep up the charade, not that it’ll take the edge off much. He tries to ignore the glowing orb of temptation in his stomach, tries to imagine life without his abilities—or else, without Shine.

His mind balks at both, and he frowns as he falls into line with his patrol. Perhaps he has a problem. Maybe he’s become too reliant on himself. Who will take care of Mason if Bastian lets himself burn out, too?

He’s the last one to arrive and schools his face to be impassive as he takes his seat, running through a thousand things at once in his head. The news from the Exiled was sketchy, but the gist of core bad, don’t use was fairly immediate.

Deign clears her throat and looks pointedly at him.

“What?” he states, voice flat. “You expect me to do everything? It takes time. I’m good, but I’m not superhuman.” He notices Harlow and Markus cover their mouths to hide rather obvious snickers.

Deign turns her gaze to the rest of the room. Her demeanor is stony, and she expresses her apparent irritation in clipped, sharp words. “Reports, now. We’ve lost fourteen PCs. Out of twenty-nine. Their taxes stopped trickling back to us a few days ago. Even the regular supply shipments aren’t being carried. Figure it out, people.”

This is the first time he’s ever heard her truly angry, though the anger is fueled by something else. He’s guessing irritation at things not going her way. He flexes his fingers in their gloves, not sure even they would provide a buffer if she lost her temper. Still, they’re only for show. His mind has always been strong.

Markus stands up and looks at each of them in turn, face serious. “All of my forces are out, including the private ones both I and you use.” He gives Deign a slightly longer than normal glare. “I’m not naming names, but my forces were stripped a while back. I don’t have the manpower to try and figure out what it is these fourteen PCs are up to. Most of them are too far away to expend the effort on.”

“Markus, that’s out of line—” Deign starts, half-standing

“Stop it.” Markus slams a fist down on the table. “This has gone beyond ridiculous. Sit down for once and listen me. You can take me to task after we survive the war we’ve all been dancing around naming.”

The room falls silent and everyone focuses on Markus.

“Deign, I have known you since you were little. You, Zach, even Harlow. You’ve always had your way.” He glances around the whole room. “All of you, except Bastian, Owen and myself. We all worked to get where we are today. Bastian worked his ass off for you, and you punished him for giving a crap.

“Do you not realize that, regardless how they found out, the people we’re supposed to be taking care of don’t see it that way? They don’t understand that we aimed to protect them. They don’t understand that we didn’t technically lie or hide things, and they certainly don’t understand the motivations behind it.”

He runs a hand back through his hair and cricks his neck from side to side. His eyes seem tired and sad. “Did any of you—any of us—ever think we shouldn’t do this? Did we ever examine the reasoning behind the reins we were handed? No. We sat here in our tower while people down there, people on the outskirts, had nothing. All we did was make them feel content about it, and those that couldn’t deal turned to the drug we accidentally let onto the streets. There is nothing about humanity at this point in time that makes people better off than they were hundreds of years ago. And we are at fault.”

Deign’s face has paled so much she’s white. Bastian isn’t sure if it’s shock or anger.

“We have the numbers, the footage, and the facts available to us, but we’ve ignored them. And you—” He looks pointedly at Deign. “—have always done your best to skirt over them. Do you realize how many people died when the Damascus were originally constructed and set loose? Have you got any idea why it was Mathur insisted adrium could be harnessed in a better and less harmful way and thus created the dominos? No, and now you have an uprising on your hands. I can police Central and keep it as safe as possible. But we need to face the fact that we’ve probably lost all the other PCs in what is becoming a cascade effect.”

He sits down and slumps in his chair, hand over his eyes. Bastian prays the man didn’t say too much in his moment of anger. Because he is right.

“Anyone else?” Zach’s expression is thunderous, and he bites the words out. Instead of waiting for his tirade to begin, Bastian raises his hand.

“I’ll take a stab at it since I got brought up in all this.” He stands up tall, and his full height, although not the seven foot of a lieutenant, is still quite imposing. “He’s sort of right. I grew up privileged, too, though. Except most of ours came from money given to quiet us when my mother was injured. Do you know how horrific these guys were in reality?” He thumbs back at the Damascus. Its eyes flicker toward him, and he has this moment of clarity. While under directive, they can’t react to those who control them, but if that directive were to suddenly end, right now, Bastian is quite certain everyone in this room would be mincemeat.

“What I am sorry about is I never spoke up before. We could have changed things and we didn’t, and now, for whatever reason, it’s too late. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty. If we want to salvage anything, you need to accept this for what it is, Deign.”

She pushes herself up, not much shorter than Bastian, and there’s a subtle frown on her otherwise neutral expression. “We were given guidelines to abide by. Those rules ran these PCs remarkably well for over a quarter of a century.” She turns to Markus, complete indifference on her face. “Send out your patrols. Keep Central safe. We can rebuild starting from here.”

Her focus switches to Harlow, whose eyes are flickering and hands are flying. Deign frowns. “What are you doing?”

It takes a moment, but Harlow grunts an acknowledgement, biting her lip. “An alert flashed up. I’m still trying to figure out what it was. It was gone almost as soon as it happened.”

A weight drops in Bastian’s stomach. Please don’t let Kayde’s programming have failed now. Harlow is too clever not to notice something while awake.

But his world drops out from under him when he hears her exclaim. “Got it!”

“Got what?” Deign moves closer, her expression closed off. “Markus, I don’t see you moving to manage your teams.”

The older man shrugs at Bastian and leaves the room.

“What have you got, Harlow?” Deign’s movements are snakelike, ready to strike. The steel in her gait, in her convictions—regardless how much evidence is thrown her way—lends her a sinuous strength.

“Filtration. The filtration systems are off. I can’t override it, but I can tell they’ve been tampered with.” There’s frustration in Harlow’s tone. She doesn’t like being second-best.

“What does that mean?” Deign’s patience is stretched thin.

Harlow sighs loudly, her exasperation leaking through into her words. “What it means is that, at some point, someone adjusted the filtration systems’ codes to reflect that their lifespans were extended. Which means the filters in there can’t be the old ones—they’ve been replaced. They weren’t due, and I didn’t order it.”

“Can you fix it?”

Harlow nods and shrugs and then glances up at Deign. “I can, but it’s going to take time. A lot of it.”

Deign straightens and glares at the rest of the room. “Fix them as soon as you can. Get this deceptive crap out of the air so we can take care of our own again.”

Harlow hesitates. “You realize that probably won’t work, right? Now that they know—”

Deign cuts her off. “It will work if I have to persuade every single one of them personally.”

“Deign…” Bastian tries to grab her attention.

“What?!” She keeps her back to him, her shoulders rigid. “There isn’t time for more chatter. We have people to protect, whether they like it or not.”

Bastian sits in his kitchen, coat still on, fiddling with the small device Owen pressed into his hand a few days ago. It’s smooth, with a tiny indentation, made to look like just any piece of adrium. But it’s not. It’s a highly sophisticated piece of equipment which can interfere with all the communications pathways of any Damascus anywhere near him, without their knowledge.

At least, given what Owen did with the larger version downstairs, he thinks that’s what it does.

It’s beautiful and precise and very dangerous to have in his possession. In a few minutes, his peace and quiet will be broken by Deign, Zach, and Harlow traipsing up to his room to discuss the Damascus and their current position when it comes to the Exiled. He’s wary about this meeting and the secrecy they slipped it in with. It’s like a hell he can’t prevent from arriving.

He cocks his head to one side and listens carefully. They’re approaching now, so he stands up and perfectly times the greeting of his guests.

“Bastian, how good of you to let us come over on such short notice.” Deign gives him her coat and glances approvingly around his office, as if she’s never been there before. She was born out of her time. Several hundred years earlier would have suited her perfectly. Still, she turns and smiles at them all and takes the most convenient seat among those at the front of his desk. He places her coat over the table and sits in his usual chair.

“So what is it you’re here for today? We’ve already released the Damascus, so unless you’re planning on unlocking the Titans, I can’t see what business we have.”

Harlow snort-laughs. “Titans.”

Zach levels a glare and then scrunches his nose. He blinks and looks Bastian in the eyes. “You’re…different today.”

Bastian clicks his tongue with impatience. It doesn’t really matter anymore. The only reason he still takes any Shine is habit and maybe the little bit of withdrawal when he doesn’t get it. Maybe it’s more about the withdrawal, but Zach doesn’t need to know that. “I’ve always been this way, Zach.”

The other man raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think you know what I mean.” There’s that hint of danger to his voice, the hidden glee that he’s discovered a secret.

“I think I know exactly what you mean.” Because they’re so close to the end now, Bastian just doesn’t care anymore.

“Well…” Deign glances between both of them. “I’d love to know what you both know, but does it have anything to do with the current situation?”

Zach opens his mouth, narrows his eyes at Bastian, and answers. “Not precisely. Besides, I still have to figure something out.

“Exactly. If you have nothing constructive to bring to this conversation, I’d ask politely that you leave so I don’t have to put up with you baiting me for an entire evening of the-gods-know-what.” Bastian regrets the words almost as soon as they’re out of his mouth. Zach’s expression could kill if he were susceptible to it.

“Sit down, Zacharai.” Deign waves at him with her hand, ignoring Harlow for the most part. “You brought up a few interesting points today, Bastian.”

“Well, Markus did, but thanks for noticing.” His patience is wearing thin, and he takes a slow, deep breath to try and stop himself from stepping over the line.

“Do you really think we should have been honest with people?”

Bastian waits, knowing she isn’t finished yet.

“Hasn’t an informed populace always risen up before when acting on base instincts? Instead, don’t we provide them with the option of knowledge that doesn’t bother them?” She pulls herself up straighter and looks him in the eyes. “Don’t we personally chose to bear the burden of knowledge in their place?”

The things he wants to say fight to get out of his mouth. He swallows with difficulty before speaking, hoping they won’t come tumbling out. “There are many ways to take care of people. Taking away their choices is rarely one of them.”

“But it was necessary.” She juts out her chin, stubbornness rolling off her like a wave. “The panic, the terror…” Deign shakes her head and walks to his windows. The glare of the dome-lit advertisements shines in on them, flickering over her face. “How do we get them back? How do we restore what we had?”

Harlow fidgets and glances away. Bastian wonders if she’s as uncomfortable as he feels. He’s not sure how to answer Deign and her mostly rhetorical questions, but he tries anyway.

“The grid was initiated because the people were terrified. It should only have been used as a stopgap measure. It should never have gone on as long as it did.”

Deign whirls around, cheeks red and eyes flashing.

“He’s right.” Harlow’s voice is soft. “You know he’s right. Information shouldn’t be available on the whim of a government. People should be free to research and discover things for themselves. They should have the choice to care.”

“But you’ve always had my back, Bastian.” Deign speaks softly and hugs her arms around her.

Bastian raises an eyebrow. “I’ve always done your dirty work because that’s the position my family has habitually held.”

“True.” She smiles. “You’ve always been best at persuading people.”

Something snaps inside him, and his words are curt and distant. “If by ‘persuading’ you mean killing those people who opposed the GNW, then sure.”

She laughs this time, but it tapers off as Bastian’s expression doesn’t change. “Sure, I’ve sent you on…what, six assassinations in how many years?”

He blinks at her. “It’s been a lot more than that, Deign. It’s what you’ve always used me for. It’s what I was training my protégé to help me with.” It’s only when he finishes what he’s saying that Bastian realizes Zach is shaking his head at him.

“The only death orders I ever gave you were the ones I delivered directly.” Deign’s gaze hardens, and she turns to Zach. “I told you those were diplomatic missions.”

Zach shrugs. “This way was easier. I didn’t have to monitor anyone. I could spend my time doing what needed to actually be done around here.”

“You do nothing, Zach.” Her words drip venom, and she takes a step toward him. “I’ve given you far too much leeway. That ends now.”

Bastian tries to push down on the anger eating up at him. He’d never thought to question the directives coming through Zach. A shadow covers his mind for an instant, and he imagines Zach’s heart, can feel himself encasing it, gently squeezing it. Then he realizes he’s actually doing it.

Zach’s hands fly to his chest, and his eyes gape at Bastian. There’s sudden knowledge in those eyes, of how strong Bastian is, of how lethal. The immediate recognition that, out of everyone, Bastian has been playing the greatest part all along.

The terror in the man’s eyes makes Bastian want to explode his heart right then and there.

Zach is spluttering, drawing in great gulps of air, wincing in pain as he stumbles to the ground, one hand steadying himself while the other squeezes his chest.

“Bastian.”

He doesn’t listen. He exerts just a little bit more energy onto the heart, just a bit more of the darkness, more of the thirst. The core flares up and tickles the base of his power, fueling it, seeking it. Alarms sound in his mind, but none of them seem loud enough, just slightly distracting.

“Bastian.” This time it’s Harlow’s voice, and the moment her hand touches his own, there’s a spark of static electricity. It breaks the spell, and Zach’s heart tumbles from Bastian’s mind, leaving the former panting on the ground.

Harlow withdraws her hand and looks at him. “He’s not worth your guilt or your exhaustion.” Her words are soft, and Bastian blinks, wondering how on earth she got to know him so well. Even if she’s still under the illusion that it would cost him a lot of stamina to kill.

Deign watches them, her lips pulled into a frown. “I’ll deal with him later. Thank you for not killing him.”

Bastian isn’t sure why she sounds so disappointed.

“What would your suggestions be?” she asks, as if there isn’t a man still clawing to regain his composure at her feet.

“I don’t know, Deign. I’ve been here. I’ve always done everything I could to support you, to try and understand you. And I’m done now.” He takes a step and falls into his chair.

She watches him, like the other two aren’t there with them. “I’m not losing this, Bastian. I can’t be the reason the GNW gets overthrown.”

“You’re not the reason. You’re just a part of the inevitable.”

Her eyes flash again, and she stomps a foot. “My father left this to me. We will execute the plan as it’s always been, if I have to exert the control individually. It’s not over yet. I will not allow it to be over.”

Bastian sits up in surprise, and Zach finally moves into an upright position on the floor, his face still pale.

“Get up, Zach.” And this time, Deign places force behind her voice.

If Bastian hadn’t been sitting down, it would have knocked him flat. She rarely uses her tones on people, but evidently she has had enough. Zach squirms, but stands, smoothing down his suit and looking vaguely disoriented.

“You need to right this, Zach.” Deign moves closer to him, her voice low and silky. “I told you you’d regret trying to fool me.”

“Enough.” Harlow barks the word out. “Stop it, Deign. Do you want colleagues or puppets?”

Deign blinks at her. “I want our stability back.”

“Well, you can’t have it.” Bastian pushes himself up, wary of her now, slamming walls up over the ones he already has. “Change is a bitch, and it’s happening.”

She focuses on him for a moment and draws herself up to her considerable height. “It can happen all it wants, but it will be fixed.”

No one says anything, and Deign shoots Zach a scathing glare. “Don’t worry,” she says to him. “I’ll make you pay because I’m pretty sure trusting you was my biggest mistake.”

She walks toward the office doors, arrogance in her stride. Stopping just before she leaves, she speaks very softly, so they have to strain to hear her. “This ship is not going down.”

“You know you shouldn’t be using this, right?” Sai stands at the head of his bed looking down at him, frowning.

Bastian crinkles his nose at her. “Yes, I’m fully aware, thank you.”

“Then why are you using it?”

“Some of us don’t have the luxury of caring about ourselves anymore.” He turns on the cloud that is suddenly his bed and feels it bounce beneath him.

“Screw them. Let them know what you’ve been holding back.”

“I think I have,” he muses, wondering if that’s true.

Sai eggs him on. “Tear them down from within.”

“Isn’t that the plan?” Bastian smirks at her, noticing how much she’s grown in the months he’s not seen her.

“Definitely. Do what you have to, but try not to tap into it anymore, please.” Concern overshadows the rest of her message, and he begins to sever contact.

“I know.”

“Good.” She reaches down and brushes his hair out of his eyes. “Thank you, Bastian, for being my guide.”

He smiles as she starts to fade, but solidifies almost immediately again.

“We’re almost there.”

Bastian sits bolt upright in bed and blinks against the bright light streaming through his window. They’re finally on their way. He steps out of bed and into his shower. A few minutes later, he’s dressed and beckoning to his lieutenant as he walks out the door, barely caring if it follows him. After all, as soon as he has a spare moment, he’s going to extract that damn chip anyway.

The morning meeting passes him in a blur. He barely pays attention to it. Instead, he focuses on building and rebuilding his own shielding and seeking out any type of weakness in the barriers. If there’s an enemy from within, as well as potential ones from without, he needs to be more prepared than ever. Harlow runs most of the meeting, detailing the results from the filtration hubs and how they’re planning on dealing with it. Bastian doesn’t pay attention until Owen finally interjects.

“The last of the new lieutenants has been manufactured and sent to its new patrol. All patrols should have one now, unless I miscalculated.”

Bastian smiles. Everyone else will think he’s smiling because of the potential devastation this will cause to the Exiled. A smile by any other name is still a smile, after all.

Markus is in the process of assisting Zach with manning patrols in the other PCs to try and control some of the damage. Central and PCs 2 and 3 don’t seem to be affected yet, and those are of little worry for now. The Exiled didn’t quite make it to the last few.

Deign’s tone is clipped. “We’ve deployed patrols in several different PCs. They’re split into multiple divisions to cover more ground more effectively. We’ll flush the bastards out.”

It’s the first time Bastian has heard her swear.

“Markus is going over the security here. We don’t want anyone creeping in while our eyes are focused elsewhere. Bastian, Owen needs your assistance with some of the modifications he’s been working on. May as well make our primary defense against the Exiled better while we can. There are orders to shoot you if you approach the device, understand?”

Bastian grins inwardly. “Perfectly.”

The origin of Owen’s laboratory fascinates Bastian. How many people died down here after being abandoned by their families for testing and trial purposes? For the sole purpose of powering the grid with their unwanted psionic strength? With their parasitic, spore-fed abilities.

Soon everything will be over. Decades of neglect and torture, of misplaced righteousness and incompetence. Silently he works with Owen, piecing together elements of a Damascus brain and tweaking the synthetic pathway to feed the directions.

The one thing about Damascus technology that never fails to amaze Bastian is the string of nerve-like cables that feed into the adrium skeleton and deliver the synthetic neural signals. But that’s the only thing. Coupling machines and adrium had been a bad idea fifty years ago and was a horrible idea now.

Thanks to Owen, though, it should prove to be their final standing ground as soon as Mathur flips the switch. He hopes the device is finished soon.

Pieces of Damascus hang here and there, all around the room. Connected and unconnected. Sort of like macabre works of art.

“You’re using the wrong one,” Owen says quietly, reaching across to hand Bastian a tool.

“Yeah, I do that sometimes. My head isn’t really in it today,” he replies, coughing and pretending to use the small electric probe as he does.

“What are we getting ready for?”

“I don’t think we’re actually getting ready for anything.” Bastian grins at him, his face turned away from all of the Damascus. He reaches into his pocket and presses the tiny device, despite the fact that he knows Owen’s is active as well. He doesn’t want to risk anything. “Tonight is the night to choose sides.”

“There was only ever one side to be on.” Owen’s tone is grim. “The side they’re not on.”

“I knew you’d say that.”

Owen pauses for a moment. “We’re going to have to remove it before anything else you know.”

Bastian nods, knowing he means the chip. “I know.”

“When?”

“Soon.”

Owen nods, and Bastian deactivates the tiny sliver of adrium. There’s not much power contained in them, so each use has to be vital. He’s going to need the rest of what’s in his to make this work.

He notices after a while that Owen is actually working on more of the adrium pebbles. He speaks on impulse, hoping that Owen’s device is still powered. “They know you’re a friend.”

A small smile spreads on Owen’s face, along with something else that might relief. “Thanks.”

Bastian nods. Only his lieutenant is in the room. The usual patrol of Damascus Owen walks around with has disappeared. They were his new and improved versions and have all been shipped off to the other patrols.

Bastian goes through the motions in his mind. They’re not coming through the ventilation shafts this time. They’re entering through the passageway inside Bastian’s quarters. Whether or not they divert the cameras or not no longer really matters. Bastian won’t be using those quarters again unless they succeed.

With the psionic alarms set around that door, he will know the minute they enter the compound. He smiles to himself and hands Owen a set of fine pliers to finish the intricate wiring before the adrium gobbles it back up.

The alarm goes off in his head sooner than he’d anticipated. He coughs and glances at Owen and rests both hands on the bench as if to support his body while the coughing fit subsides. He pockets three more of the communication-canceling devices and watches as Owen does the same.

It’s going to take Dom and Sai a while to make it down to Bastian. They’ll do so in the most covert way—at least, he hopes they will. By the time they get down here, though, they need to have the lieutenant disabled, which, considering the implant in Bastian’s leg, is probably going to prove bloodier than they realized.

Timing is everything.

Owen presses the disruptor on the bench and bends his head as Bastian still pretends to cough. “Do we go now?”

Bastian shrugs. “As good as ever.” He glances down at the scalpel in his hand. “You any good with one of these?”

“I’m proficient.”

“Why does that sound bad coming from you?”

“I’m a scientist, not a doctor.” Owen takes the scalpel from Bastian. “You realize as soon as I do this, you’re going to have to act, right? Regardless of the pain in your leg, you’re going to have to disable that thing.”

“Just do it. I’ll take care of my end of things.”

“And afterward, you realize its patrol is out there, right?”

“Can you override the signal they get sent?”

Owen frowns and leans over to one of the terminals, carefully avoiding the line of sight of the lieutenant. “Yeah,” he whispers with a smile that makes Bastian glad he’s on the right side of this guy. “I can so do that.”

Not ten minutes later, Owen pretends to trip and falls right next to Bastian’s leg. With one fast movement, he fingers the tiny scar, inserts the scalpel, and yanks the chip out, scraping the bone in the process and causing Bastian far much more pain than he’d been expecting.

It’s hard to contain his reaction, but he manages and somehow muddles through the miasma of pain. The lieutenant’s eyes are alert, as blood-red as the blood Owen is staunching with gauze. Bastian reaches a hand forward and motions a yank, suffusing power into the gesture.

For a second, he’s not entirely sure it worked and he thinks they’re completely screwed. Owen fumbles with the scalpel, dropping it on the floor as he stands upright, his white coat splattered in blood. The lieutenant takes another step toward them, hand outstretched menacingly, before the joints at its neck pop and the head topples to the floor. Several components run free, including a strange gold ball of smelted metals that used to be the kernel.

Owen heaves a very obvious sigh of relief. “I thought we were dead for a minute.”

Bastian nods. “So did I.” And he looks down as Owen presses something into his hand. The smooth metal of a solid adrium walking stick.

“You’ll need to get that healed, but I figured after minor doctoring, you should be able to limp along. I tried to implant it just left of center so it didn’t actually insert in your bone. You should be fine.”

“Thank you.” Bastian means it wholeheartedly. It’ll make moving around much easier. He tests his leg with the stick and comes to the conclusion it’s a pain he can manage. With what little healing he has in him, learned over decades, he staunches the bleeding.

“What now?” Owen asks, his eyes bright as he changes coats.

“Now?” Bastian smiles grimly, hoping Owen’s override will continue to work. “Now we wait.”

Sai steps into Bastian’s office with a strange sense of déjà vu. Dom and Dael are in front of her, scouting out the room, making sure there’s nothing where it shouldn’t be. Aishke steps up to her side, still paler than usual but much better than she was.

Flashes of her fights with Bastian speed through Sai’s head. His speed is amazing, and his smile worth millions when it’s finally earned. They have to get to him in time.

She didn’t realize how much she’d missed him.

“Where is he, Sai?” Dom asks her quietly after motioning everyone that the office is clear. Evan stands in one of the corners, tapping into the security systems throughout the building. He’s hooked up to Kayde’s comms, following instructions.

“He’s downstairs in Owen’s laboratory. I’m not sure how much time we have. They’ll have to remove the chip from his leg and disable the patrol that follows Bastian. If they don’t get that done, they’re pretty much dead.” That word and her mentor together in one thought makes Sai cringe.

“It’s okay, Sai. We’ll get to him.” Dom puts his hand on Sai’s shoulder and squeezes it gently.

“Yeah, I know, it’s just…” Sai shakes her head and gathers her thoughts.

“Hope you’re all up for a ton of stairs.” Aishke grins at Darrien and Dael pointedly. “Think of it this way—at least these thirty flights are going down. Just wait until we come back up them.”

Darrien groans and Dael laughs. “You don’t give me enough credit for stamina.”

Sai watches the interaction, how Aishke comes out of her shell with people she knows. Now all she has to do is make sure the girl survives this, and everything will be fine.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Dael asks.

“Him.” Dom points at Evan, who’s just now finishing up with his taps into the system. “We good to go, Evan?”

The domino smiles grimly. “We are better than good.”

“Perfect.” Dom leads the way, double-checking for patrols as he opens the huge doors. Sai jogs along next to him, letting her legs absorb her footfalls. Dom looks down at her. “Pity not everyone can phase. We’d be there in no time.”

Sai nods. “Pity or not, someone might get overeager and end up in a wall. So it’s probably better not to anyway. I’m not sure if we can tap into Aishke’s fetching ability. She’s not at full strength yet, so I’m not sure how we’ll deal with the board.”

“I’m right here, you know,” Aishke grumbles, her breath catching slightly, and Sai frowns in her direction before continuing.

“Are we sure Mason will be okay with Tyrell? Despite his protestations, I don’t think he’s combat-ready yet.”

“They know our location, and they have others backing them. We have a few other divisions heading out to PCs 1, 2, and 3, just in case we need cover from troops they have stationed there.”

“Good.” There’s so much to try and keep track of, it’s overwhelming. Get down and retrieve Bastian and Owen is the first goal while Mathur puts the finishing touches on the device. “One step at a time, Dom. We take it one step at a time.”

“They’re going to know where the Shine is, right?”

Despite his strength and speed, Dom’s psionic abilities aren’t always reliably as strong. His thought-projected abilities are usually limited to sensing emotions. “They’re going to know.” They have to. There is no way Sai is doing all this and not destroying that piece-of-crap drug.

The stairwells are dark and musty. Sai stands at the top and looks over the railing as the others stream in behind her. It’s a long drop down. So far she can’t even see the bottom. With the lights flickering in and out, she’s reminded of one of those black-and-white horror flicks from the archives. Arms outstretched, awkward fangs and capes…

Dom nudges her shoulder. “Why the smile?”

“Just remembering something.” She grins up at him. “Remind me to show you some old horror movies one day.” Better to be positive about the outcome.

“It’s a date.” Dom grins back at her for a brief second before his expression becomes serious again. “We all ready?” he asks. Everyone nods in return. “Let’s go.”

They begin the descent. It’s long and arduous, and Sai is perfectly aware that if she still had her actual legs, this would be taking a hell of a lot out of her. The rest of them are not so lucky, and it’s strange to glance back and see Dael making sure that everyone keeps up.

“Watch out, Sai!” Dom grabs her arm just in time to stop her from stepping into a hole in the concrete steps. Two of them are missing. “Pay attention. It might be long and boring, but it’s not the safest down here. This part of the stairwell isn’t well-maintained. These aren’t used much, especially since Bastian’s little stunt.”

Sai nods, continuing down the stairs with slightly shaking limbs. Her brain isn’t focusing.

Get Bastian. Get the code keys. Hopefully take Owen and the rest out with them. Make sure to free anyone imprisoned. Get to the battle room.

With the streets taken care of and the people herded into places where they can’t get hurt, things will get easier. Not to mention the Ebony helping them overall, at least in most of the other PCs anyway.

“Right now we have to get down to Bastian.”

Dom looks at her. “You know I know that, right?”

She nods. “I just have to keep saying it. Need to focus. I hate it down here.”

“No sane person likes it down here. There’s this…” Dom pauses, as if searching for the word.

“Feeling of decay and death.” Dael’s voice filters down to them from several steps behind, where they’re helping guide others down.

“Exactly.” Dom nudges Sai gently. “See, no one likes it down here. Let’s focus on Bastian.”

Dom takes point and inches his way to the door, motioning for silence in the stairwell. “Camo up.” He whispers, and Dael, Evan, and himself all oblige. Sai does her best with her body and armor, but it’s nowhere near as effective.

“You two bring up the rear,” Dom says to Sai and Darrien. “Don’t let her get hurt.”

He opens the door, and the dominos filter through it. Sai’s learned how to detect their presence by the slight waves in the air as they move. She follows them out as they check and clear each of the corners and start moving toward the end of the corridor where the laboratories are located, with Darrien bringing up the rear.

She remembers this floor, and even though Darrien hasn’t been here before, he can sense something. “Darrien,” she says harshly in a low whisper. “Clamp down.”

Darrien’s shields slam up, almost nicking Sai’s consciousness in the process. Sai holds his gaze for just a moment, long enough to recognize he knows he panicked and is sorry.

They pass what used to be the nurses’ station and head down the other passage, to the holding bay of those slated to die—who’d outlived their usefulness. It made Sai feel sick back then, and it repulses her even more now.

Four Damascus soldiers stand outside the door, a soft whir surrounding them. Dom motions for Darrien and Dael to keep a lookout where they are and moves in, with Evan and Sai bringing up the rear.

In a swift, harsh movement, Dom is momentarily more visible as he slices a morphed hand up under the plating attached to the back of a Damascus’ head and severs the wiring connecting it to the rest of the body. At the same time, his second hand spikes through to its operating center and the red light of its eyes goes out.

The two others collapse in similar fashion, with Dom disregarding his camouflage as he execute the final one. Sai can’t help but wonder at the way the four of them fell like a domino trail. Quick and fatal. Necessary.

Sai will forever be glad she’s on the right side of the dominos. The four soldiers lie in pieces on the ground, their legs twitching in death throes far too similar to a human body. Their once red and vibrantly lit eyes glow duller as the seconds pass until there’s no light left in them at all.

“Wow. Next time remind me why we’re going in there with a troop of psionics,” Sai whispers.

Dom shakes his head. “These guys aren’t normal by a long shot, Sai. Their reactions were dulled, as if something interfered with their reception.”

The door cracks open behind them, and a bespectacled man, complete with freckles and a lab coat, pokes his head out. “Uh…” He raises a hand. “That would be my fault. Did I do something wrong?”

“Owen?” Sai smiles and moves forward, her hand outstretched. “I’m Sai. Is…is Bastian in there?” She almost doesn’t want to know the answer, just in case it’s not the right one.

“He’s in here.”

She rushes in almost before the sentence is finished, and it takes her eyes a while to focus in the dim light. Dom is still talking to Owen behind her about just how he managed to subdue the soldiers to such an extent, but she’s not really interested. They can fill her in on that later.

Dael enters the room behind her, and Sai registers it off in some other corner of her mind. Her complete focus is on Bastian, leaning awkwardly against the large table in the room, his right pant leg soaked in blood. “Bastian,” she says and shortens the distance between them. Sai hugs him, tightly, instantly probing his leg with her mind to find where she needs to fix it.

“Sai, stop squeezing so hard.” Bastian gently unwinds her arms from his neck.

“Sorry,” she says, not really feeling the apology at all. “Damn, this did a number on you. Hold still.” She reaches down and pulls back the trouser leg, laying both hands on his shin. Bastian’s whole body tenses, waiting for pain.

“Stop that,” she chides him and dives into his wound with her mind. It’s really not that bad, just painful and bloody. But it does take several minutes to bind the vessels back together and to staunch the blood flow completely and form the scab over the entry hole. She frowns as she pulls out and backs away.

“I can’t repair the nick to the bone, but it’s not a bad one anyway.” Sai smiles tiredly and pats him on the shoulder. “You should take better care of yourself. Aishke would kill me if you died.”

Bastian mouths a thank you to her and looks around. “Where is Aishke?”

The girl steps out from behind Sai, her skin even darker in the dim light. “Hey.”

Bastian’s expression softens, and he holds out a hand to her. Aishke’s bottom lip trembles ever so slightly as she hugs his chest like she won’t let go. A pang of jealously assaults Sai for a split second, catching her off-guard. She knows all too well the security in one of Bastian’s rarely given hugs.

She eyes him critically and frowns. “You haven’t been abstaining.”

He shrugs and gently disentangles his niece. “I don’t have the luxury.”

“It’ll eat you up, Bastian.” She meets his gaze briefly before turning to examine some of the Damascus parts on the table and changing the subject. “How are you feeling? Are you up to moving as soon as we need to?”

He nods, a real smile spreading over his face. “You’ve grown since you left.”

Sai returns the expression, a tiny piece of joy dancing in her chest. “I’ve missed you more than you realize.”

“How long do we have down here?” Dom asks, his eyes briefly assessing Bastian.

Owen scrunches his face. “That really depends on how many alarms you triggered.”

Aishke scowls at the young scientist. “We don’t generally—”

But Dom holds up a hand. “We disabled most of them. Is that a problem?”

Owen shrugs. “Not particularly, but if they’re not occupying the forces by sending them out to alerts, we might find another patrol sent down here. Then again, we might not. A large portion of the patrols are charged with finding the Exiled, so they don’t really have many to spare. The one they assigned to watch over Bastian was actually a great compliment as to how dangerous they think he has the potential to be to their cause.” Owen smiles enthusiastically, and Sai decides she likes this odd, sheltered genius, despite his inadvertent helping of the Damascus.

Dom spreads out an old set of blueprints on the large table in Owen’s laboratory. Sai glances at it dubiously.

“Paper plans? Why are we looking at these?”

“These were drafted a very long time ago. So long, in fact, they show passageways that have since been bricked or walled over. With enough force—” He grins at that comment while Dael and Evan chuckle. “—we can make our own way, anywhere we want.”

“With enough force, or you mean, with enough noise, right?” Sai glares at him. “Seriously, sometimes you guys are like children.”

Dom seems deflated. “You just have to go and take the fun out of everything.”

“We have to coordinate so Mathur doesn’t move Alpha into position too early to use the device.”

“He has it ready?” Bastian interrupts her flow of speech.

“Not quite yet.” Dom looks away. “But he should have it any moment.”

“Why is he moving it into place?” Owen asks, the light refracting oddly through his glasses making his eyes appear machine-like. Sai shudders inwardly.

“Because he wants to make sure it has a significant impact in the right circumference. Even with the amplifiers you attached to the new lieutenants, he wants to make sure that, when we do this, we do it right. Last time it was sent out from Central and the majority of the Damascus were directly in the district. He needs to be as close to here as possible for it to work.”

Owen nods. “He’d know that part better than I. I only know what I’ve adjusted will cause them to be permanently disabled, once and for all.”

“I like the way you think,” Dom says and pats the man on the shoulder before turning his attention back to Bastian. “It’ll be ready shortly. We need to be in position when it is. Once the Damascus are no more, we’re going to need to move rather quickly.”

“Understatement much?” Bastian murmurs under his breath and laughs at Dom’s glare. “All right, all right.” He moves and Sai catches a glimpse of the scar on his cheek, glimmering in the light. It doesn’t mar his beauty, but enhances it. She smiles and he catches her eye.

“Sexy scar, isn’t it, Sai?” There’s resentment in his eyes, but it’s not directed toward her.

“I could heal it if you like. Make it barely noticeable.”

For a second Bastian hesitates, and then he smiles softly. “No, I think I’ll keep it as a reminder to not get too full of myself and pay attention to everything around me instead of believing I’m invincible. But thank you.”

“I know some other people who could benefit from a scar like that,” Dom says half-seriously. “Back to the plan. We need to make sure that for every life this costs us, we’re going to gain some ground.”

Bastian stabs a finger into the map, directly on the heart of Central’s main building, near the ground floor. “This is the battle conference room. It’s rarely used and has fortifications. They’ll meet in there once they realize they’re under attack. If they don’t realize it yet, they will soon enough. This is the perfect place to ambush and hold them. Keep in mind, though, until we disable the Damascus, nothing is safe.”

“What do you mean?” Sai asks. “We can’t just take the board hostage and get everything else to back off?”

“No.” Bastian shakes his head. “You have to realize what they are, Sai. The whole problem with them in the first place is their orders. They are very literal and will not deviate from their objective. At the moment, they’re listening to the board because the board helps them directly accomplish their goals.”

“And their goal is to wipe out the Exiled, correct?”

“Exactly. So what do you think they’re going to do if the board members are being held by the Exiled?”

Sai pales. “No way. Seriously?”

Bastian nods and sighs. “They will step through them to accomplish their directive. They’re not stupid. They’re fully aware that, once this program runs its course, they’ll be free to do as they please.”

“Which means they’re also fully aware of what a pulse device does, correct?” Dom interjects.

“Pretty much.” Bastian stands up and tests his leg. “Thanks for this, Sai, though I’m not sure you should have wasted your energy on this.”

She shakes her head. “You’re never a waste. Besides, that barely used any of my power.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t say?”

She flexes her bicep and grins. “I have stamina now.” And then she pauses. “I’m just still not quite clear on this.”

Bastian attempts to explain it. “If you’re giving something an order, how do you phrase it, Sai?”

She frowns at him, shifting on her feet, a seed of unease settling in her stomach. “I order it to do the job I need it to?”

“Yes, but do you give the person or people any type of enclosing directives? As in, do this, but while you’re doing it, don’t kill a, b, or c?” Bastian’s eyes are narrowed, like he’s giving her some kind of delayed assessment.

“No, that’s common sense,” Sai says and suddenly realizes, her brain clicking. “Oh, I see what you mean now. That’s horrific. They don’t have common sense, do they?”

“Exactly.” Bastian shakes his head. “If the order had been set up properly—like, ‘You will defeat and destroy all of the Exiled; take back the pure Shine sample; and not injure, hurt, or maim any of the board or the people of the PC in the process—then that would have made our job easy. As it is, the order makes the Damascus’s orders easy, not ours.”

The ripple of tension in the room rises. Sai can feel it in the prickle down her back.

Dael is suddenly next to them, having left Evan in the corridor. “Unless we want to kill everyone, unless we want to be no better than those we seek to bring to justice, we have to be cleverer than the Damascus.”

“In a nutshell.” Bastian smiles grimly. “I like this one.”

Sai smiles, but it’s not enough to belay the uneasy feeling in her gut, and the last time she had one of those, Dom almost ended up in pieces.

It’s been two hours since they arrived, and the trepidation in Sai’s stomach grows every minute. But she pushes it aside and concentrates on the task at hand.

Owen’s assistance is proving invaluable, and Sai can’t help but warm to the guy. She thinks Darrien has in fact developed a crush on him. If it helps him take his mind off the tasks they have ahead, then it’s probably good for both of them. Setting up is just the first step. Next comes the bloodshed, regardless of how much they might not want it to. Every time she thinks of the incidental death-toll, her stomach does a queasy roll. They have to make sure they don’t leave carnage behind them. Otherwise they’ll be just as bad as the GNW.

So far, it seems the alarms haven’t been raised yet. If they can keep their presence on the down-low while they wait for the greenlight from Mathur, everything else should fall into place.

“Hey…” Evan motions them over. The comm fills with scratchy static as the broken message comes across.

“Recalled…troops…here…shortly.”

Sai squints at the device. “Let’s hope that means what we need it to mean.”

“Are you okay?” Dom’s hand rests lightly at her back, the close contact making her jump as much as his voice so close to her ear. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Sai peers out into the dim hallways ahead of them. “It’s okay. I was just thinking.”

“You seemed sort of out of it. I should have coughed.”

“You don’t need to cough.” Sai laughs at his attempt at humor. Most people would think he was serious. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“How far we’ve come. How far we have yet to go. And how much could go wrong.”

“Ah, then I regret to inform you, the latter thought is entirely incorrect. We have a lucky charm called Sai. I believe you may have heard of her. With her on our side, we’re going to win.”

She laughs, and this time it releases some of her pent-up tension. “Thanks, Dom.”

“What for? I’m just telling the truth.” He winks at her and walks away. She follows his back until he turns the corner and then spots Bastian looking straight at her, an unreadable expression on his face. Sai raises a hand to wave, only to receive a curt nod before he turns and vanishes into the dark hallway beyond.

“What did you do to upset my uncle?” Aishke frowns at her, suddenly in the space Dom vacated.

“I’m not sure. He seems out of sorts.” Sai watches him and the slight sheen of sweat on his brow.

Aishke opens her mouth and closes it, that frown still etched there.

“Spill it.”

“He’s not… Is he coming down off something?” Ash’s words are hesitant, like she thinks her allegation is preposterous.

Sai peers closer at him, but hesitates to reach out with a tendril of healing. He’ll catch her—he always does. “He might be. Probably because he doesn’t have to dull with Shine anymore.”

“Yeah. Makes sense.” Aishke’s face lights up, and she squeezes Sai’s arm. “Thanks. I’ll go check over the communications with Evan.”

“Conserve your energy,” Sai calls after her, but she’s still frowning in thought when Dael comes up to her.

“Am I interrupting?”

“What?” She shakes her head to clear it. “No, not at all. What is it?”

“The psionic partners in each division are waiting for your directions regarding our next steps.”

Sai twirls a stray strand of hair in her fingers, rapidly pulling it tight. “Their focus is the lieutenants. They know how their anatomy works—just focus on the kernel and melt it out of its casing. Probably better that they’re engaged in combat while this is done. Lieutenants are the hard ones to take out. Remember they’re only looking for the few patrols without an upgraded lieutenant. All the rest will be neutralized by the amplification.”

Dael nods and smiles at her. “It’s good that he has you.”

“What?”

“It’s good that you’re there for Dom. He’s not quite like us. His nature is far more solitary and his tendencies far lonelier. We take too much from our human DNA to be like that, and so you are good for him.”

Sai blushes, glad it’s not visible in the dim light, and watches thoughtfully as Dael walks away.

Her relationship with Dom is confusing. If something happens to him, she isn’t sure how she’d deal with it. So, therefore, nothing can happen to Dom, because flattening Central isn’t exactly on her to-do list.

A whirring red light and dull siren rip her out of her contemplative thoughts. Sai blinks before registering what it means and jogging toward the lab where the others have been sending out instructions to coordinate the launch of their attack.

“What is it?” she asks as she reaches the door.

Bastian’s expression is grim. “They’ve recalled more Damascus than we realized. About a dozen additional patrols. Regardless of whether or not they’re aware of exactly what we’re doing, they know we’re doing something.”

“How did they get here so fast?” Dom’s tone is hard, and there’s a shadow bleeding into his eyes. Sai moves to his side and squeezes his little finger. The shadows flee.

She clears her throat. “Where are they sending them?”

“The first ones have just arrived in PC 3.”

“How many?” Sai calculates, trying to remember who it is she has in PC 3.

“Six. They’ve sent six patrols.”

“Including Hounds?” It’s hard not to let the numbers overwhelm their instructions. “Argyle. That’s Argyle and James’ area. They can’t handle that many. They’ve only got three divisions and two psionics. Can you send over a few dominos to help them retreat without too much difficulty?”

Evan nods at her, and his eyes whir through a myriad of colors, a signal he’s communicating. Sai gulps in breath and leans into Dom as he absentmindedly rubs her shoulders. “You’re doing fine, Sai. You know their abilities better than they do.”

“I only hope they realize that. You know how stubborn they can get. I’d be screwed if they were in Tyrell’s retinue. He wouldn’t listen to me if his life depended on it.” And she’s only half-kidding.

“Well, since it does, let’s hope he listens.”

“Two has another batch of Damascus entering it. These are close formation, too. They’re not going in one patrol at a time.” Dael’s eyes unfocus, swirling through a plethora of blues so complex it’s pretty. “Better hope Tyrell is ready to listen.”

Sai grimaces. “Mason is with Tyrell. Isn’t Joe there, too? Tell him to temper them. They should be okay for maybe four patrols? Make sure they’re tuned in for when the pulse goes off. With that many more patrols, the signal is guaranteed to spread.” She takes a breath to stop the flow of panic in the pit of her stomach. It’s like the bile of nausea trying to overwhelm her, as the darkness threatens to creep into her vision.

Dael frowns. “I can have three teams of reserves over there inside of two hours. They should be good to go.”

“Do it. And if you have another team or two, send them to Argyle. I can’t be sure he’ll listen to my instructions if he has anyone else breathing down his neck. They might need a little more brawn. Send them with the order to stay in hiding and not seek out a fight.”

She turns to Bastian, trying to gather her thoughts, get some coherency into her brain. The panic keeps trying to rise, and with it, the parasite—forever knocking at her brain, trying to take control.

Just as she’s about to check on their progress, she hears a commotion from the hall. Heavy footfalls echo, and the sound of a scuffle drifts back as well. She grabs her crossbow from the desk, hefting it in her hand as she runs to the door.

Only to have Aishke yank her to the side as a crossbow bolt flies through the air where Sai’s head had been a split second before.

“Watch it, Sai! It’s a Damascus patrol!”

“Right. Thanks.” Sai nods to her friend, suddenly very glad she let the girl talk her into coming with them.

Mind racing, Sai seeks out Dom. He acknowledges the look and grabs Dael and Tarla, pulling them into the shadows so they can’t be seen. This patrol is probably checking up on the lack of signal from the ones stationed with Bastian.

At first glance around the corner, she can see three of their own team down. She wracks her brain for their names but draws a blank. Sort of like the pale expression on Darrien’s face.

“Take Ash and circle around, Darrien.” Sai barks the order out, and Darrien snaps to with a nod. Aishke leaves her side with a slight glare in Sai’s direction.

“Bastian, do you have enough energy to disable this lieutenant?” Sai knows she’s reaching, but there’s little other choice.

He nods and moves toward the doors. “I’ll need a distraction.”

“Got it.” And she does the only thing she can think of—phases into the fray.

Dom pushes down the instinct to run to Sai’s assistance as he spies Bastian standing just inside the door. With two of the soldiers down, he’d been about to concentrate on the lieutenant, but changes tactic.

Sai phases to the other end of the corridor, and the lieutenant tracks her visually. Dom can feel Bastian’s unique power signature as it releases, and he moves toward one of the two remaining soldiers as the lieutenant makes a grating screech and its head topples to the ground.

With the lieutenant taken care of, Dom levels a sharpened hand around the protective plating of the soldier’s neck. His aim is true, and his hand slides neatly under to sever the power and control wires. Its lights flicker out, transfixing Dom for a second.

When he turns around, he notices the other one has been taken care of, and Sai is standing in front of him, an odd expression on her face. Her focus is intense, and he wonders if she’s trying to ignore the two wounded team members that Aishke is helping drag into the lab.

“Fighting it off again?” She whispers the words so even he can barely hear it.

He shakes his head. “Not this time. I was just thinking.”

The expression on her face tells him she doesn’t believe a word he says, but will leave it for now. He’s grateful for that.

“Dom?” Dael is at his elbow as he walks back into the lab. Their expression is sad.

“What is it?” Dom asks, dreading the response.

“PC 3 is down. Argyle is dead, still unsure on James. My reinforcements are reporting we have four of the six dominos originally stationed with them down as well. Four of the patrols, however, are gone.”

“Survivors?” All Dom can think about is how Sai will take this blow. At least there’s still hope for James. Maybe.

“Four of the eighteen are still alive. Troops hadn’t moved in yet.”

“Report to Mason and Tyrell. Make sure they’re aware of the loss and warier because of it.”

“Already done.” Dael melds away so easily it feels like the whole conversation was in Dom’s head.

He glances at Sai. This is not going to be easy. They look up as he approaches. “We’ve lost PC 3. Few survivors.”

Sai pales, and Bastian’s irritation switches to concern.

“Any word at all from Kayde? We can’t stay here. We have to move.”

“Is James dead?” Sai’s tone sounds sort of hollow.

“We don’t know yet.”

She shakes her head, and he can see the tension in her back. “I knew when Argyle went down. I felt it. I’ve worked with all of them at some point, but I can’t feel James. We’re going to lose more at this rate.”

Sai checks her stock of weapons, knives in place, crossbow secured in the small of her back. She reaches up a hand and presses her com device. “Are you ready yet?”

Dom strains to hear Kayde’s answer. “No, but we’re close enough.”

“Close enough isn’t good enough. We’re sitting ducks here. Timeline?” Sai’s orders are snapped, and Dom thinks he missed something in her conversation with Bastian because she’s testier than usual. Or it could be the deaths. More of them. Too many of them.

There’s a crackle over the communication line, and Kayde finally answers. “Move out. He’ll get it within the hour.”

Sai disengages the communicator and grins. The expression is a grim one, and Dom can already see the lines starting to gather around her eyes. She’s about to speak when the sirens whirr once again. It took them a little longer than Dom anticipated.

“Perfect timing,” she mutters, glancing at Bastian. “Will you be good to go?”

Bastian nods, and they move to the door.

Dom’s gaze sweeps around the area. It was risky waiting it out. They’ve been here for too long. Several more dominos are in the general area. Looks like they’re going to have to go with what they have. “Let’s hope they’re not expecting this much resistance. We have time to buy.”

“Dom!”

He turns to see Owen hurrying toward him. “Yes?”

He’s winded when he arrives and takes several seconds to regain his breath. “When Mathur sets this off, anyone in the vicinity of a lieutenant will need to take cover. You’ll need to communicate it. Tell people.”

Dom blinks. “Why are you only telling me this now?”

Owen opens his mouth, shuts it again, and shrugs. “I have a lot of things to juggle. Sorry.”

“Why do they need to take cover?” While he suspects it, Dom wants confirmation.

“When I said it’d permanently disable the Damascus, I meant it. After all—if they blow apart, they can’t actually ever function again, correct?”

“Got it. Don’t be in the way of a lieutenant when the pulse goes off.” He turns to Dael. “Can you get Evan to get that back to Alpha so they can spread it to everyone else?”

They grin. “Easily.”

Dom watches Dael go and feels something brush his side. Warm and familiar, Sai stands next to him, jaw set with grim determination.

“Are you ready for this?” he asks her.

She looks up at him, a strange, somber pinch to her expression. “I’m never ready for people to lose their lives, Dom.”

“The plan is to make it through here, where we have it on good authority that we’ll have a few patrols to contend with.” Bastian pauses. “And then we’ll head directly for the battle room.”

“How do we know they’ll be there?” Owen is fidgeting. “The meeting ended hours ago.”

Bastian smiles at the man. “Because it’s the first place she’ll summon them.”

Dom butts in. “Are you feeling all right, Owen?”

The small man laughs, but it’s tinged with a bit of hysteria. “I’m okay. I will be okay. Until now, this was all only in my head. It’s a little unnerving when it’s real.”

Bastian nods and Dom is about to comment when Sai’s voice echoes down the hall.

“Incoming!”

There’s a pause, followed by another simple phrase.

“One full.”

Dom scans over the people he has available to him in one look as he moves up to work with Sai. Bastian remains back with Darrien and Dael, partitioning off a safe area for Evan to work on communications and so Owen doesn’t have to fight.

There are a couple more human soldiers he can’t recall the names of—if he even learned them—but it’s the medieval-named dominos that have him concerned. Tarla and Ivin haven’t had heavy combat experience, and they flank Sai and Dom as the patrol nears them. They’re to take out the Hound first and worry about any other soldiers after that.

“Ready?” Sai’s voice shakes slightly, and she grips his fingers once briefly.

The lieutenant stands behind his row of soldiers, a redlined vision and his height all that distinguish him. Even the Hound pauses with them. It’s like a standoff. A line is drawn.

Time slows to a crawl, and then a guttural sound emanates from the Hound. A low keen echoes through the concrete halls of death and sends a strange ringing in Dom’s ears.

And then it pounces into action, a split second before the rest of its patrol.

As Tarla moves up to intercept the Hound, Dom can see Sai coating herself in thick psionic shield, making her upper body as strong as her lower. He blends himself quickly and moves to take on the lieutenant while keeping an eye on the remaining fighters in the field.

Dael takes a sharp hit to their jaw that sends them reeling and leaves Bastian alone with two soldiers, while Ivin steps in to help Sai with two of her own. Dael shakes their head and is back at Bastian’s side in a split second, blocking a punch that could have been fatal.

Sai moves in a flurry of attacks, her kicks aiming for their one weakness.

But Dom has to pull his attention away from that fight and concentrate on his own. Unlike his previous encounters, this time he doesn’t have the upper hand without his camo. The lieutenant keeps shifting, like he can see him, which diminishes the advantage Dom was hoping for. It can probably sense that an adrium being is close.

With quick and deft movements, he shifts his form to lethal mode and sharpens his arms and legs, bleeding back into sight in a way that tends to confuse most sensors.

The lieutenant moves quickly to the side, scanning around several times. It makes a couple of odd clicking noises, and the soldier with Sai turns its head toward the lieutenant in a fluke of timing that lets Sai kick directly under the plating and sever its necks wires. Only her foot gets caught in them, and she goes down.

Dom doesn’t have time to help her. The lieutenant swings dangerously close and misses. Lighter on their feet and far more adaptable, the leader of the patrol bends its knee joints. “Fight fair,” it screeches, with overtones that sound surprisingly human.

Dom can’t help a chuckle and moves quickly out from where the sound emanates, only to watch the lieutenant swing and miss. And then it dawns on him. The lieutenant is scanning for noise. For sound. Where the sound angles off incorrectly is where he aims for. It’s compensating by echolocation. A plan solidifies in Dom’s mind and he goes into hunting mode.

The parasite inches forward, but Dom downs a small vial of Kayde’s concoction and creeps in for the kill.

Adjusting his camouflage, he syncs himself and sets himself to phase. It’s a dangerous tactic, but if he can disorient the lieutenant enough…

The hulking Damascus lunges at him, but every time, Dom is long gone, a short burst of energy taking him ten feet down the hall. One of the hits is a little close for comfort, and its arm barely misses him. He changes tactic and makes the angles more obtuse.

Just when he’s about to change his tactic again, he’s finally at the lieutenant’s back. With a quick jab of his left hand, honed like a crowbar to leverage the protective plating, he reaches in swiftly with the knifelike right hand and severs the wires.

The huge metal heap falls to the ground, the adrium solidifying with no electricity to guide it. He turns around. Mere minutes have passed, but he balks at the scene in front of him. Tarla is helping Bastian and Dael with the remaining soldier near them, but Sai is standing in front of Ivin, a scowl on her face. At her feet, the domino bleeds black adrium blood from a deep gash in his side.

One of the soldiers who attacked them is dead, but the other still maintains good use of one side of its body. Its damaged arm is wrapped around its head plating, and thus Sai’s only clear shot is impossible.

Dom phases in one short burst to land directly behind the now lieutenant-less soldier and reaches out. With one vicious twist, he rips its head off.

Sai sags against the wall, kneeling quickly to tend to Ivin. “Thanks, Dom.”

He nods as he watches her, glancing over to where the final soldier has been taken care of. “Patch him up and leave him here with Tarla and the other two. They’ll be fine down here until this is over.”

Bastian joins them, sporting a new shallow cut on his hand. “We need to get to the battle room before they figure out what we’re doing. Owen is bringing his tablet to see how many signals he can jam.”

The door to the battle room towers higher than usual. It resembles the masonry evident on Bastian’s own, except the psionics reinforcing it are far weaker. The human guards outside take one look at them and lower their weapons, raising their hands.

Bastian smiles at them as Dael and Aishke relieve them of their weapons. “Good choice.”

Dom can see Sai let out a breath of relief. Her aversion to conflict never far, despite their situation. He switches his vision, trying to find a weak point in the doors. “The center. It’s weak and barely reinforced. Hammer it or blow it apart.”

Bastian raises his eyebrows in Dom’s direction. “Can’t you just kick it?”

Dom frowns, adjusting his estimation. If he aimed a compounded kick just above the door handles, it should weaken the locking mechanism. “No. I need to be ready. I’m not sure what’s on the other side.”

Bastian shrugs. “Aishke, I need your help.”

The younger girl’s shoulders shake, and though she’s still pale from her recovery, she walks to his side.

“I need you to focus, close your eyes, palm just above the lock.” Bastian’s tone is kind, and the tension visibly drains from the girl’s shoulders. “Gather all the force you can spare and shove it right through. Push it away, instead of pulling it toward you.”

She bites her lip and then nods. “Got it.”

“On three.” Bastian and Aishke take a deep breath. “One. Two. Three.”

Concrete splinters in a rush of force. The vacuum created tugs around Dom’s body and sends Sai’s ponytail fluttering around her head. In the aftermath, the doors hang loosely from their hinges, segments catapulted into the room beyond. Fragments have devastated several tables, but apart from some scrapes, it seems the people inside are mostly not the worse for wear.

Deign appears much smaller than Dom remembers. Perhaps it’s because she seems shocked to see them all on her doorstep, in her domain. Zach is even paler than his boss, his eyes skittering wildly.

Sai leans in and touches Bastian’s hand, bringing him back to earth, and Dom watches the few in the meeting room scatter to the back. Except Markus, who stands straight and inclines his head in Dom’s direction. The man looks more tired than Dom has ever seen him.

“It’s good to see you, Deign.” Dom smiles thinly. Bastian’s anger is palpable, permeating the room even through his hefty shielding. “Bastian has some things to tell you.”

Dom moves to the side to let Bastian take the floor. Dael and Evan keep lookout and open lines of communication. It took them a little over forty minutes to fight their way up here. It’s all winding down now. Soon it’ll all be over.

Bastian sways a little, but Dom doesn’t think it’s because he’s tired. Nope. That’s definitely anger kept in check far too long. A small wave rolls toward Dom, an odd shimmer surrounding his friend sort of like a heatwave in the lethal sun.

“Really, Deign. That expression on your face isn’t making me feel sorry for you. I know you too well for you to try and get the best of me.” Bastian smiles, but it’s a sad expression. “So many times when you could have taken the high road, but you chose to slog through the mud and keep going in the same direction that eventually killed our parents.”

Deign pulls herself up, her nose slightly in the air. “It’s only mud because traitors made it murky. Everything we’ve done has been to protect the people, like they couldn’t protect themselves.”

If her voice hadn’t cracked on that last note, Dom might have even believed her.

Bastian steps forward smoothly, almost like a glide, the heat glaze still emanating from him with an oddly dark shimmer to it. “Like they couldn’t protect themselves? You never gave them a chance.”

“The initial testing showed the grid was the only option!” Deign’s cheeks are flushed and her eyes blaze. She stands tall, imposing in her rigidity. “They couldn’t handle a chance.”

Bastian makes to move again, but Sai places a hand on his, tugging him gently. He glances at her, and for a brief moment, the shimmer of anger recedes slightly.

Sai steps forward, her slender shoulders shaking with rage. It leaks out of her in ways that it shouldn’t be able to. Parasite or not, Sai’s power is usually contained. “You could have let them choose, you know. Helped those who didn’t want their powers by taking them away. Studying the actual origin instead of how people channeled it. If you’d, just for one moment, thought of the people as a whole instead of the stupid benefits and money that could be made…”

Deign’s mouth curls into a sneer, and she looks down at the tiny, yet mighty figure Sai cuts. “You’re a child. You don’t even know what you’re talking about. When the Psionic Wars broke out, when the Shine ran rampant among those it shouldn’t have—”

“I know! I know more than you what Shine does to those it wasn’t intended for.” Sai’s tone has changed, like she’s grinding stone in her teeth. “And I’m a thousand percent sure that making them accept what they were doing, making them content with it and go with it, was never in my parents’ best interests.”

“Your parents?” Deign steps closer to Sai, and Dom sets himself on alert, watching carefully. “Your parents. You killed your parents, Sai. Blew them and a thousand other people up. You did that. We try to prevent those types of disasters.”

Sai stops, gulps visibly, and her hands shake at her sides. She steps closer to Deign. Despite the height difference, Deign shrinks back. “If you’d just for one moment allowed the psionics who weren’t born into power the same respect you afforded those who were, we’d have known what we know now a long time ago.”

“What we know now?” Deign asks, leaning a fraction closer to Sai.

Sai smiles, but it’s tired and bittersweet. “That the powers we have are as alien as the adrium we use in every—”

Deign snakes out a hand to touch her, but Sai’s reflexes haven’t been normal in a long while and she grabs the wrist before the woman can touch her armor. “Really, Deign? Now? Really?”

She leans closer to the woman, and from the gasp Deign lets out, Sai doesn’t hold up on squeezing her arm. “If I never let Nimue close enough to touch me—someone I count as a friend, someone I care about—what on earth makes you think I would allow you to touch me?”

A force whooshes out of Sai, so potent that Dom can feel it from where he stands five feet away. It hits Deign square in the chest, and the woman is lifted off her feet and dumped ceremoniously in the corner. “I don’t have patience for people like you.”

The room is silent as Deign looks up at Bastian’s protégé with a murderous glare.

“You realize we’re not leverage, don’t you?” Harlow speaks softly, standing relatively close to Bastian, whose own hands are clenched by his side. Dom can almost hear him grinding his teeth.

“We know. But we needed to come here, needed to disband…” Sai waves a hand in the air theatrically. “…whatever this is.”

Harlow frowns. “And you know Zach is a sneaky little git, right?”

Dom glances over at Zach, who starts laughing. A strange surge passes through Dom’s aura, a darkness tinging his usual calm facade. He walks over to Zach and lifts him up by the collar of his shirt. “What?”

“You don’t think we realized your central command is almost here? Did you really think we wouldn’t have a plan in place to disable you all before you got the jump on us?”

Bastian’s punch is so fast, Dom doesn’t follow it until Zach is on the floor, nose bleeding, cackling hysterically. “Speak plainly.”

Zach snorts and glares up through veiled eyes. “I should have outed you when I noticed two days ago.”

Bastian picks the man up by his collar and shoves him roughly against the wall with a crack that could be chestbone or skull. He slaps his hand over Zach’s face while his other forearm holds him in place. Sai shies away with a gasp and Dom can feel the surge of psionics emanating from Bastian.

Zach lets out an unholy scream of raw pain.

Not one person goes to his aid as he writhes beneath Bastian’s iron hold. After several seconds, Sai recovers enough to lay a hand on Bastian’s arm, her own face ashen. Dom almost moves to stop her, but refrains because he needs to know if it’s true as soon as possible.

“Bastian.” Sai’s tone is gentle, worried almost. “You’ve got enough. Don’t kill him.”

Bastian looks over at her, abruptly removing his hold on Zach so the man slips to the ground, eyes staring vacantly, drool running down his chin. “He won’t die. Not for a long time. But he’ll be forced to think about everything he’s done for the rest of his life.”

The words sink into the room, and most people take a step back. Not Dom, though, and not Sai.

“Is he telling the truth?” Dom’s impatience makes the words clipped.

Bastian nods and that’s all the sign Dom needs.

“Have they moved in range yet? Can you reach them?” he asks Dael quietly

Dael shakes their head, their eyes clouded. “Not right…” They pause. “Dom…they’re closer than we realized. They’re scrambling to head off the Damascus they can see coming from Central. Can you make it?”

Dom glances around. Of course he can make it, but what about the rest of them? “Can you hold this without me?”

“Without me?” Sai interjects, a scowl on her face. “You’re not going alone.”

“You can’t phase fast enough to keep up with me.”

“But I won’t be far behind.”

“Fine! I just need to go.” The panic in his gut is making him reckless, lending fire to the parasite that’s gently sinking its claws in. He might have to find out what Dael meant after all—maybe it is necessary sometimes. “We have to make sure the device fires off.”

Dael nods, and Bastian calls out. “Just go. We’ve got this.”

“Joe is already there. He can call for us if you need us.”

Dom nods once and takes off, Sai’s presence only a few steps behind him.

Phasing is one of the fastest ways to travel as long as your stamina holds out, but it isn’t the most precise at high velocity. More than once he stumbles on a pass, barely avoiding a wall or a Damascus. He can hear Sai in his wake, falling slowly behind, but he knows she can take care of herself, even if it’s just to phase away from danger. Her greater obstacle is that the sun lingers just above the horizon.

There’s no escaping it. They have to make sure the device fires. If it doesn’t, everything was for naught. Regardless of how well they can take out patrols, there are at least another fifty of the Damascus left. Their forces will be wasted by the time they manage to defeat them all—if they do. Just like the people they lost in PC 3. Just like Lambda, Iota, and Iria.

Thoughts fly through his head as he darts in and out of buildings to reach the outskirts of town. Breaching the wall to get outside will trigger the alarms in Central, but that doesn’t matter anymore. They have to trigger the device and save Mathur, Aishke, Kayde…all of Alpha. Dom shakes his head. It’s not about Mathur—just about the device. One person isn’t bigger than all the people they need to save.

He can see the cloud of Damascus ahead of him, hear the beat of their feet as they run through the sand in the slowly fading sun’s light. It’s the perfect time of day, even for the Damascus.

It’s not until he gets closer that Dom realizes they’ve been sent in two waves, and one of them has already arrived at Alpha. The nets flicker in and out of camouflage, partially pulled from the structure. All of the loading bays have been brought down and broken open, the Damascus scaling the sides. Some of them don’t make it, but most of them do. Their numbers and strength will eventually overwhelm those left to guard them.

Why the hell hasn’t Mathur flipped the switch yet? Dom is frustrated by the lack of Damascus carnage in his wake. He moves ahead of the pack, phasing to the next step, and up into the Mobile. He scans around for people he knows and but only recognizes a couple of them. They’re too busy to acknowledge him, and right now he doesn’t have the time to stay and help them fight.

For the first time since joining the Exiled, the way to the laboratory feels long. It takes far too much time, and the Damascus are too deep into the ship. Surely it’s still okay. Surely they haven’t succeeded yet.

He pushes a soldier aside with his hand, sharpening it mid-push. The Damascus falls away from him, its head split in two, but still attached.

Every few steps it seems he has another opponent. Damascus seem to leak out of parts of Alpha he didn’t even know existed. As he passes the central section, he notices the vegetable garden is shattered. Plants are ripped out and trellises reduced to twisted metal. The parasite rises up inside him, egging him to take his frustration out on the next unfortunate Hound to try and bite his face. So he does, but he keeps the darkness at bay, biting back at it, refusing to use the last vial he has, determined to gain control over his darker half.

Being lethal is a good feeling. He has no reason to feel remorse for any of these deaths. They are not people and have no compassion for others. He can feel the parasite stirring again, angry at the tonic he took back in Owen’s lab. But he calms himself, while tugging gently on the power to give him more stamina, to push through. Use it wisely or lose himself. The former is the only option.

All of the Exiled are the target. Kill or be killed. And this time Dom doesn’t let any of the Damascus get the better of him.

He’s almost there, and he can see Joe fighting to get into the lab. They make eye contact briefly, each lost in their own slice of personal hell-mixed power.

Wordlessly, they work in unison to down the Damascus clamoring to destroy Mathur and the device. If he focuses, Dom can hear their creator on the other side of the wall. Mathur is barricaded in, with two dominos helping him to keep the door closed and the Damascus out. The device lies behind them, forgotten but protected and hopefully still in one, huge piece.

With a glance around, he takes three steps to the side, sharpens his fingers into points, and stabs them through the wall. With a solid yank, he tears it away, making room for Joe to join him in Mathur’s defense and give them a wider space to fight in.

“The device.” His voice is quiet and yet it carries, magnified by the rage inside, by that need to kill. Except it’s not taking him over; it’s lingering at the edges, irritated, but seething with power, making sure he only harms their enemies.

Mathur gasps at the sight of him, but nods a split second later and turns to the device. The bad thing about saying it out loud, though, is he alerted everyone else to it. Not only that, but they all see Mathur heading toward it.

Time grinds to a halt. Dom can hear himself yell out to Joe as he tears the head off a lieutenant’s body, taking a punch in the side of his chest as he does. “Warn them. Cover!”

Mathur’s hand reaches for the switch just as a Damascus rushes him in its own form of desperation, perhaps sensing impending doom.

Dom can see it coming. He can see the blow and forecast the damage before it ever happens. Nothing he does, no matter how much he scrambles, will be enough.

Dom watches as the soldier’s punch takes Mathur upside the head with an audible crunch. In a weirdly macabre sense of karma, it propels him the rest of the way to the device.

“Take cover!” Dom’s voice carries over the whole Mobile as he phases to Mathur.

Mathur hits the switch.

The button strikes down with a resounding click.

A second passes where nothing happens. And then the cascading explosion begins to roll, ripping the roof off Alpha, the support beams screaming.

Sai chides herself for digging into her core just to try and keep up with Dom. Knowing the amount of damage her abilities are capable of—not only to herself, but to others—is eating at her mind. If only she were faster, she could catch up to him, be there with him, help him get to Mathur.

What if she doesn’t make it in time? Their deaths will be at her door, too. Like so many others. They just keep piling up. They cannot fail. She has to reach them. Sai pushes more of her power into her phases to make it, make up for it…to be there.

She picks her way through the debris field that was once the Mobile she called home and heads toward the source of the blast. Along the way, behind some of the walls, she sees people stirring. Injured and cut, but alive.

Mathur’s laboratory is a wreck. As she approaches, she sees Joe picking himself up and notices the stub of an arm hanging limply at his side, black-red goo running sluggishly from it. She touches it as she passes and exerts a little bit of her will, just borrowing ever so slightly from her core, and slamming down a shield on it to avoid being sucked in.

Damascus pieces are flung far and wide. Several dominos are scattered around, mostly whole, if not completely. And Dom lies huddled over in the corner with two pieces of jagged metal jutting out of his back.

“Dom?” Sai can’t help the hitch in her throat. “Dom?!” Her hand reaches down to touch his shoulder, and it’s only then she realizes he’s on top of someone, cradling them.

Slowly, Dom turns his face toward her, the human guise he wears leaking from him as his energy begins to ebb. The metal in his back is embedded deep enough that it’s probably taking all his effort to stay conscious.

“I didn’t make it in time, Sai.”

He sounds like a child, so far from the confident, protective Dom she knows. In his arms he cradles Mathur’s still form. The old man has a small smile on his face, much as he did in life, but that’s where the semblance ends. There’s a crack in his skull leaking blood all over Dom, while grey matter bulges at the air.

She doesn’t know how to react, how to soothe him. She doesn’t even know how to soothe herself.

As she leans forward, Dom clings to her with one arm, his strange true skin tone, so bright and metallic she can’t look directly at it, just like that first day she met him. But right now he doesn’t need to hear that. Right now he needs to her to be there.

Right now she needs to focus on something other than the fact that Mathur is gone.

She can hear movement behind them. Pieces of Damascus being dragged away. Dominos picking themselves and their missing or torn limbs up or dragging the dead away. Sai isn’t sure how long they sit there, but it’s long enough for Mathur’s body to cool.

“Dom?” She taps his shoulder, but he shakes his head and bows it. “Dom, you need to move. We have to take those parts out of your back.”

He blinks at her, not quite registering. “Parts?”

“Let’s get Mathur onto the bench.”

Dom nods wordlessly and follows suit.

Sai pushes her fatigue to the back of her mind and stumbles to her feet. A hand grabs her elbow and helps guide her back to steadiness, and she looks down to see Aishke’s wan face next to her. They fling their arms around each other, sobbing in great gulps. It’s not until Sai pulls back and studies her friend that she realizes the girl is bruised and limping. “I thought you’d be safe there.”

Aishke shakes her head. “I told you I needed to come with you. I followed when you left.”

“But you can’t phase.”

Her friend smiles sadly. “No, but I can run.”

Sai’s voice catches in her throat as she hugs Ash, and she glances at Dom. “He needs…”

“It’s okay, Sai. I’ll patch him up again.” Garr’s voice is laced with sadness, an eternal tiredness that leaks through to Sai.

She feels defensive because she knows how hard Dom tried to save Mathur. “He…phased so fast to get here. It…” And the tears won’t stop as she watches Mathur’s stiffening body. The blood is dry now, so stark against the man’s white hair. “I never even…”

“Stop it.” Garr grabs her by the shoulders and gives her a gentle shake. “I need you to be able to help us. I’ve lost one of my dearest friends, Sai. Help me so we don’t lose yours, too.”

Sai nods and focuses on the metal jutting from Dom’s back. It helps her not to look at Mathur—for now anyway.

Garr’s tone is gentle as she guides them through the steps. “Help me remove these pieces. Damascus breastplates are sharp when they explode.”

Sai nods, wondering how she would know that, and Dom braces himself as they pull the pieces out. He screams in pain or perhaps because of the loss. Maybe he just needed to scream. Sai wishes she could join him.

His color starts to return immediately, slowly, and his eyes return to their normal silver, if a bit subdued. “We won?” He doesn’t sound happy about it.

“Technically.” Sai sits next to him as Garr takes care of his back.

“It’s not that bad this time, Dom. There are no pieces missing, just a clean cut. You’ll be fine by the end of the day. Just ask Sai to help you heal it a bit. The nerves in your back are hanging by a thread, and I don’t actually mean that as a joke.” The old woman seems old now, just like Sai feels.

Dom blinks. “No pieces missing…” He glances over at Mathur, then shakes his head.

Sai slips her hand into Dom’s as Garr leaves the room and lets the tears fall. For herself, for Mathur, and for the emotion Dom can’t show.

His body shakes with tears he can’t shed, and he murmurs into her shoulder. “Then why do I feel like I’m hollow?”

Bastian greets them in the foyer of Central’s main facility. Harlow limps behind him off to his left, and Dael has Deign in handcuffs, while Zach has already been taken down to the cells. Owen mentioned a plan of some sort as he followed them.

He watches as Sai helps Dom up the steps. She’s grown so much, too much. While she was a means to an end for him at the start, her caring, her wit, and her sheer tenacity have made him far too fond of her. After a moment, he jumps down a couple of the steps and helps Dom up slowly. He doesn’t have to ask about Mathur because Garr sent him a message through Evan.

“We won.” Dom sounds so hollow, so much not himself.

Bastian helps settle his friend on a bench as Sai takes a step back, a frown on her face.

“We won.” But in Bastian’s voice, it sounds more upbeat. “Your father won it for us.”

Dom’s eyes flicker through a series of colors, and a tight smile falls into place. “He was always careless.” There’s a fondness to the tone now, no longer a hollow echo.

“But he was a genius, too.”

Dom glances up, resolve slipping back into place, his body retaking the form he’s worn for longer than Bastian can remember. “Thank you. Sometimes I let emotion in.”

Bastian raises an eyebrow and tugs Sai over. “I’ll blame her for that.”

Sai’s smile is tired but genuine, and she turns the tug into a brief hug before nodding in Deign’s direction. “What are you doing with her?”

Bastian shrugs. “For now? Harlow is using her retinal scan and DNA to reassign the lockdowns and all of the pertinent codes.”

Deign scowls at him and opens her mouth. Her shoulders are squared and her back straight. Even now, the woman won’t back down. Stubborn.

“I’d like to remind you that you don’t have to be alive for us to use your DNA or other appendages.” Bastian’s tone is harder than he’s ever used on a student before, and Sai takes a step back.

“I see you have this under control,” Sai says, as Deign snaps her mouth shut.

Bastian glances around as several dominos move into place around the foyer, hands behind their backs, at ease. “For now, but we have a lot of work to do.”

Sai nods, and Dom pulls himself to his feet with a grimace.

“For now?” she says. “Do you think we could rest for a bit? Is my old room still here?”

Bastian smiles—despite himself, despite the constant coaxing of his core, despite the tiny layer of Shine he just wiped over his tongue. “Yeah. I believe you might find Nim in hers, too.”

Sai’s eyes light up briefly before the tiredness overwhelms them again. “Don’t tell her yet. I have no energy left.”

Bastian places a hand on Dom’s shoulder. “You go rest, too. We will convene tomorrow midday to figure out the next steps.”

“For once,” Dom says, clasping the hand briefly, “I think you’re right.”

Sai leverages herself under one of Dom’s arms and twines a hand around his waist to lend him support, even though Bastian can’t see the injuries anymore. He watches them move in perfect sync, their bodies supporting each other without thinking. He’s so caught up in it that it takes him by surprise when Dom turns suddenly.

“Hey, Bastian,” he says, and there’s a hint of contentment in his voice. “I knew he wouldn’t leave me all alone.”

Bastian smiles, memories of their childhood playing through his mind. He watches his friends walk away, finding a level of comfort in each other on the cusp of this new world.

Sai places a hand on the glass and gazes out at the strangely still light of Central’s dome. Without the advertisements constantly flickering, the dulled sunlight is almost pretty.

“You’re thinking?” Bastian’s voice is soft behind her, at his desk.

She twists to look at him. “Astute as always.”

“Smart ass.”

Sai laughs softly. “True. And yet…” She bites her lip and walks over to him, standing in front of his desk like so many times before. “I don’t think I can do what you want me to.”

“It’s not just me, Sai. It’s everyone. Garr, Dom, Jeffries, Kayde…”

She glances away at Kayde’s name. Her friend will be recovering from a horrible side wound inflicted when the Damascus exploded for a long time to come, and yet she still made it to the meeting. “There’s nothing imminent, no one that has to be saved from a tyranny anymore. Can’t someone else do it?”

Bastian stands up and walks around to join her, leaning against his desk with his ever-present black coat draped commandingly. “You took to every task I gave you. You learned everything you could, and you pushed yourself and others beyond their boundaries when it turned out we needed you to do more. You found the core, and despite its dangers, we can learn to understand more about these abilities we have.”

Sai rolls her eyes, then her shoulders, and glances back out at the beautiful reds and oranges of the setting sun through the concrete forest below, the crumbled outskirts still in her mind.

“So no. No one else can do it. No one else can teach people about their powers the way you can.” His tone is gentle now, almost coaxing, and she glances up at him, frowning.

“Don’t try to pull a Deign persuasion on me.”

Bastian laughs. “You know I can’t do that.”

“I don’t think there’s anything you can’t do.” The words are truth, and they both know it. She frowns at him. “How’s the pull going?”

He blinks at her. “You noticed?”

“I noticed because I know what to look for.” She cringes, realizing she just proved his point. “Stop gloating and answer me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” But the mirth stops there. “It’s difficult to handle sometimes. I need more distance.”

She sighs because she knows that’s exactly why he can’t take the job on. Besides, he’s needed for more country-running-type stuff. As long as he can stay off the Shine. As long as he can resist the core.

“Fine.” She glares at him. “But I’m not teaching them that stupid impassive expression stuff.”

“Deal.” He crosses his arms and smiles. His face lights up, blue eyes sparkling, and the years melt away, making him seem far more his age than usual. She forgets how young he is—comparatively.

“While you head up the psionic schooling division, Kayde and Jeffries will devote time to humane psionic research, Dom and Dael are organizing the dominos and Marlena will oversee the rehabilitation of grid survivors. With that taken care of the rest of us should be able to run the PCs, make reparations, and start fixing this mess. Starting from the ground up isn’t going to be easy, but so much needs to change, I’d rather get it right the first time.” The relief in Bastian’s voice is palpable as he turns back to his seat.

“I’ll need help. Aishke and Nimue.”

“You’ve got them.” He doesn’t bat an eye as he sits back down and smiles up at her, steepling his fingers beneath his chin much like that first time she went to his office so long ago.

She studies him for a moment. “I want my own office.”

“Naturally.”

This time she scowls. “And those eggs in the cafeteria need to change. Get us good food like they had in the Mobiles.”

Bastian laughs again. “Anything you need, Sai. Seriously. Anything you think will help the students in these schools feel like people.”

She likes the sound of that. “People. Got it.” She hesitates, not quite sure if she should go yet or not. There’s really so much to do if they want to get started. So many wrongs to reverse, so many discoveries to share. The eagerness creeps up on her, a bright counterpoint to the parasite she still has to temper.

“You can go.” He smiles. “It’s not a permission thing anymore. I’m not your teacher.”

Sai raises an eyebrow. “You will always be my mentor.”

“I can live with that,” he says, pulling up several charts on his desk with a hint of a grin on his face. “You should know that the people out there need you.”

Sai hesitates and forges ahead anyway. “So do you sometimes. You can’t always struggle alone, Bastian.”

“Old habits die hard,” he quips at her, but there’s no force behind the words. “Don’t worry about me, Sai. I’ll shake the Shine. I promise. So will the PCs.”

She squints at him. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I’m counting on it.” This time his smile reaches his eyes and they sparkle again. He’s smiled more in the last thirty hours than she’s ever seen him before. “Go tell Dom you said yes. He needs you.”

She nods and triggers Bastian’s doors with a thought, laughing at his indignant face. “The feeling is mutual.”

Sai steps into the hall, a sudden burst of happiness almost overwhelming her. Some of the burdens are gone, and though the responsibilities remain, the future is full of maybes.

This brings the original Domino Project trilogy to an end, and I need to thank everyone who helped it get here.

Jami—you have been an amazing. You’ve picked me up when I thought I couldn’t keep going, kicked my butt when I strived to be better, and made me smile when I needed it most. And Owen, thank you for being so picky and finicky with my fight scenes that it’s made my writing better.

To Trevor, for letting me pursue my dreams and pushing me to give my all and loving me even when I’m grumpy. To Kami, for being this amazing little whirlwind of love that helps give me perspective and purpose.

To Papilie and Mumskins, for giving me the chance to dream and spread my wings.

To my beta readers: Kylie, Quentin, Jai, Heather R., and Andrew. You guys have been with me all the way and given me such amazing insight.

To my CPs, who encourage gently, critique ruthlessly, and support me all the way: Brenda, Andrew P., and Heather R. All three of you put up with so much from me—I don’t know where I’d be without you.

To my dear friend Carrie Ann, who still holds my hand. To Caitlin, for calming my fears about interior design and becoming an amazing friend. And to Suzanne, for giving me a glimmer of light whenever we chat.

To my amazing cover artist, Sean, and his pure talent and ability to transfer my vision to the cover. To Becca, for being meticulous and amazing in her nitpicking of all the final details. And to Amanda, for that last quick read-through.

And thank you to Julia E., for your encouragement and friendship; Louise, for your advice; Brianna, for your encouragement; Bonnie, for your support; and all of my street team, for your encouragement, help, and advice—and general ability to listen to me panic.

To my lovely friend Kendra, because early morning panic sessions wouldn’t be nearly as fun without you. And Emmie for your all hours friendship.

To those who’ve supported me in the real world—Heather C., Amanda, Kindra, Kea, Paul, Aimee, Andrew, Stacey, Julie, Emily, Deanie, Stephanie, Seti, Holly, Brian, Rebekah, Valerie—I love you all. And Pam—because you’re awesome.

Thank you to everyone who has cheered me on and helped me bring Sai, Domino, and Bastian into the world

KT Hanna has a love for words so extreme, a single word can spark entire worlds.

Born in Australia, she met her husband in a computer game, moved to the U.S.A. and went into culture shock. Bonus? Not as many creatures specifically out to kill you.

When she’s not writing, she freelance edits for Chimera Editing and chases her daughter, husband, corgi, and cat. No, she doesn’t sleep. She is entirely powered by the number 2, caffeine, and beef jerky.

Parasite is her third book, and the last in The Domino Project. You can find out more, including information on the rest of the series, on KT’s website, kthanna.com.

Table of Contents
Title Page
Praise for The Domino Project
Books by KT Hanna
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author