Crystal Choice: The Second Novel in the Projector War Saga Page 18

  “If they’ve known about Superiors for this long, why haven’t they said anything? Surely Ms. Green doesn’t condone the Institute’s activities?” Smith said.

  “Because Ms. King is one of Ms. Green’s closest advisors, and she’d been running interference. I don’t know everything she’s been doing, but I do know this. She is an Instructor for the Institute, and she told you Briggs was on a training assignment with the Military so you wouldn’t start looking for him.

  Smith clenched her fists. “That is the last mistake she’ll ever make.”

  I could feel her thoughts shifting with Black’s. They were going to march into Ms. Green’s office and demand she send a team after Ms. King—but Ms. Green wasn’t going to listen to them any better than she’d listened to the Director of the Company.

  “Do you really think Ms. Green is going to listen to you?” I projected clips from Ms. Green’s meeting with the Company into their minds. “She’s seen all the same things I have, but Ms. King has blinded her. The Agency won’t wake up enough to fight these things until Ms. King is gone.”

  “That’s insane,” Black said.

  “Is there another choice?” Tolden asked.

  The chopper was silent except for the constant thwap of the rotor blades.

  Tolden sighed. “That’s what I thought. You don’t have to get involved with this, if you don’t want, but you saw what one Superior did back there. If the Institute is really building an army of these things, we need to be able to respond. Every single one of you is on Tac 47 because you are flexible. You can change targets whenever the mission requires it—well, our mission has changed.”

  Smith folded her arms like she was giving herself a hug. “Ms. King is going to pay for what she did to Briggs. I’m with Crystal, with or without you.”

  “Do I get my chair is CIS back if I do this?” Steele asked.

  Tolden grinned. “If we survive, and then stay out of prison—sure.”

  Black shook his head. “You’re all going to get yourselves killed.”

  “Maybe,” Tolden said, “but this is what we do.”

  “Then you’re going to need someone who can handle a plasma cannon.”

  I made my way to the InDep elevator as soon as Steele set the chopper down. Tolden knew where I was going, and had assured me that he would mount a rescue operation if Medina was somehow in on Ms. King’s plot. When the door to InDep opened, Medina was leaning against the opposite wall, cleaning his fingernails. I noted a spot of blood on the arm of his usually pristine white shirt.

  “Prompt, huh?”

  My blue lines presented me with an image of Medina from the last time we’d spoken. He’d reminded me to come talk to him immediately after I’d interviewed the Superior. He’d also been wearing the same exact shirt—minus the blood.

  “Given the circumstances, I think I did pretty well to get here at all,” I said. “What happened to you?”

  He looked pointedly at the scratches the Superior had left on my arm. “She didn’t give you that, did she?” She? He must be talking about D.

  “No. That’s from the thing we were deployed to take down. Now stop ignoring the question.”

  “It looks like you were successful in your mission. Good.” He clapped once, then stood. “Now, I think you promised me some intel?”

  I grit my teeth and followed him into the safety of his office. He placed the interface device on his desk, then looked at me expectantly.

  I folded my arms and matched his gaze. “What happened to you?”

  He lifted his eyebrows. “To me? I think you ought to be far more worried about that shoulder of yours.”

  “Yes, but you’re going to get a mission report that tells you exactly what happened to my shoulder. Where did the blood on your shirt come from?”

  The right side of his mouth lifted. “Occupational hazard, I’m afraid. One doesn’t take my job without being prepared to defend oneself from assassination attempts. Don’t worry, it’s his blood—not mine. Now, the intel you promised?” He gestured to the interface device.

  I frowned. The timing on Medina’s assassination attempt was interesting. I wondered if Ms. King had felt threatened by him and tried to resolve the issue while most of the Agency was busy dealing with the Superior attacks around the city. I bit my lip. If that was the case, perhaps he wasn’t working with Ms. King and my caution was unnecessary. Still, it wouldn’t be that hard to put a spot of blood on a white shirt. He could be lying to try and make me trust him.

  I stored the analysis with a shrug. There wasn’t really any way to tell, one way or the other until I saw his reaction to D’s information. “You’re not going to like what you see,” I said.

  “Undoubtedly.” He motioned to the interface device.

  I placed my hand on it and went back to the interview I’d had with D. Medina’s face revealed nothing as he watched, and he didn’t so much as twitch when the Superior named Ms. King as the spy. My throat went dry.

  He already knew.

  I cut the scene and locked the PREP module into place—just in case.

  “Well, thank you for your assistance Agent Farina. You’ve been invaluable.” He pushed away from his desk. “I have some things to attend to. Do be careful on your way out. Also, I would avoid Ms. King for the foreseeable future. It would be unfortunate if she discovered her cover was blown, don’t you think?”

  I didn’t move. Was he working with Ms. King, or not? Was he going to go warn her, or assemble a strike team? I couldn’t tell, and my mind bounced off his like a rubber ball off concrete. Hunt said he was trustworthy, but she was one of his agents. Of course she thought that.

  “Is there a problem, 32?”

  I frowned. “Am I going to meet Robbins on my way back down to the rotunda, sir?”

  He spread his hands in front of him. “I don’t see any reason why you should. He’s assigned to Medical.”

  “He’s assigned to you.”

  Medina smiled. “Perhaps, and perhaps not. I am not in the habit of discussing my agents. If it will make you feel better, I can call Medical and ask what he’s doing right now.”

  I bit the inside of my lip as more analysis overlaid my vision. D had been in custody for over a semester, and she was still alive. Why was that? If Medina was working with the Institute, she would have been dead weeks ago. He had to have been running interference so that Ms. King couldn’t be completely sure that we even had the Superior—which was why he’d had Robbins erase those memories. If I had gone back to Ms. King’s class worried about the non-human creature I’d just helped escort to a holding cell, Ms. King would have known exactly where to find D.

  I still couldn’t be completely sure. There were a dozen factors that could explain his behavior—but this was my best shot.

  “Director Medina, how long have you suspected Ms. King?”

  He sighed. “It’s my job to be paranoid, to compartmentalize information and to control all the factors I can.”

  Which was about as straight an answer as I could get out of him right now. I grit my teeth. “She knows you suspect her, so she’ll be watching you. You’ll never get a Strike team set up in time—not with her abilities.”

  His eyes hardened. “I’m listening.”

  “I’ve told Tac 47 about the situation, and they’ve agreed to help. We’re going to go take down Ms. King as soon as I get back from briefing you.”

  Medina’s lips thinned. “You weren’t planning on telling me this, were you?”

  I shook my head. “The Agency’s been compromised. I’d be a fool to think Ms. King is working completely alone.”

  Medina sat back in his chair to think for a moment. Then, “Tactical 47 wouldn’t have been able to take Ms. King down even before they lost their last Teleprojector. You need help.”

  “The moment we brief a Strike team, Ms. King
is going to know.”

  “Then don’t use a team from the Agency.”

  I hissed. “The Company isn’t too happy with us right now.”

  The corner of his mouth tilted up. “Yes, but what do you have to lose?”

  Everything. Last semester, I’d finally found a place where I belonged. I was doing some real good in the world—helping people! If I went through with this, I could lose all of it.

  Medina was suddenly leaning on his desk, eyes locked on mine. “If you don’t want to go through with this, then don’t. I’ll call Robbins up here right now, and you can go home. I will handle the rest of you team, and there won’t be any risk of you alerting Ms. King. If you want to take her down, though, you need allies. Now there is a critical difference between friends and allies. Friends are people you trust to help you, whatever the circumstances. The Company and the Agency will never be friends. Allies need to have a gun, and be pointing it the right way. We share a common enemy with the Company, 32. They may not like it, but they will help.”

  I could see Mr. West’s face overlaid on my vision. He would have bent the heavens if it meant taking down Ms. King.

  “Fine. I’ll talk to them. We need to move fast, though. Even with the element of surprise, Ms. King is going to be hard to defeat.”

  Medina nodded. “That she is, but I think Cal can probably help with that. I borrowed her for a little side project after I heard that the Institute was experimenting with neurodivergents. She has a very interesting device down there.”

  I stood and reached out to Steele’s mind. He was already down in R&D, checking some things, so it wouldn’t be out of his way to pick up Cal’s little device.

  “Thank you, sir,” I said, and meant it.

  Medina gave me a little smile. “Don’t thank me yet, 32. You’ve got a long way to go.”

  My knuckles halted just inches from the door. I swallowed, and forced myself to knock. If this were Mr. West, asking for help would be easy. But he wasn’t here anymore. He’d figured out Ms. King’s little secret, so she’d had him killed.

  A few moments later, the door was open and Ms. Graff was staring at me. “What do you want?”

  I opened my mouth, then closed it again without making a sound. “We might want to go into your office.”

  Ms. Graff’s wariness skyrocketed as she readied herself for an attack. Still, she stepped gingerly out of the doorway and motioned for me to precede her.

  I thanked her and led the way to the sliding mirror that had once served as Mr. West’s office. I stopped next to the picture frame, and plucked off the camera I’d installed earlier. Ms. King did not need to see me voluntarily meeting with Ms. Graff. A few moments later, the teacher was seated across from me.

  “Now, what do you want?” Her body language showed no hint of the violence readying inside her mind, but I was monitoring her thoughts as closely as I could without taking my attention completely away from the situation.

  “As you know, I work for the Agency, and you work for the Company—so let’s not play games.”

  She stiffened. “You’re a telepath.”

  I tilted my head. “I’m a Projector Telepath, Elaine. There’s not a lot in your head I don’t know.” I swayed out of the way as a ‘decorative’ knife came off the back wall and whizzed past my ear. “I haven’t come to expose or kill you, but we have a mutual problem.”

  The next knife stopped behind me, and I could feel Ms. Graff considering her options. Killing me would be messy, and escalate the conflict between the two organizations, which the Company couldn’t really afford if it was going to focus on the Institute. Letting me live when I posed such a security threat might bring her superiors down on her. Apparently her Director was not a very forgiving man.

  I held up a hand. “Just let me speak. If you reject my proposition, then I leave and neither of us know any more—or any less—than we knew before.”

  If anything, she stiffened further. “What’s your strength rating?”

  “That’s not relevant unless you continue your attack. Otherwise, you find out first hand.” My voice was cold, and the blue lines in my vision monitored the teacher’s every breath as she considered the threat.

  “Fine.” The knife lowered slowly to the ground, but I had no doubts about her ability to bring it up as fast or faster than I could get out of the way. Telekinetics with Ms. Graff’s endurance rating were nothing to mess around with. Still, this insanely powerful telekinetic had just agreed to at least listen, so I took a deep breath.

  “Thank you. Now, the Agency recently gained custody of a Superior. I’m sure the Company already knows of their existence, so let’s skip the pretenses.”

  Ms. Graff’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, let’s.”

  “Well, she has alerted a very select number of people within the Agency,” well, one person, ”that the Institute has infiltrated Martial Academy.”

  She leaned back into her chair. “The Company has long suspected that a third party has infiltrated the military and is currently teaching here. I assume this is the person you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, only the party infiltrating is called the Institute, and the party infiltrated is the Agency.” I let that sink in, feeling the wheels turning in Elaine’s head.

  “Who’s the teacher?” she asked, lips pursed.

  “Ms. King.”

  There was a moment of shock, then she grit her teeth. “That wasn’t the name I was expecting. She’s a what? A PS8?”

  “Yes. And an E100,000.”

  Ms. Graff sat forward abruptly. “That’s impossible. It’s twice the height of the scale we use. I could practice my whole life and not even come close.”

  I nodded. “That’s because you’ve only ever measured humans. She’s a genetic cross between the Zeta-Superiors we’ve been seeing, and a very powerful neurodivergent. I don’t know all the details, but apparently, she’s a precursor to what the Institute thinks is the next evolutionary step of the human race.”

  Ms. Graff nodded. “Yeah, we’ve known about Superiors for a while now—and we’ve heard whispers of what the Instructors can do. I just didn’t know Ms. King was one of them. That would certainly explain the spike we saw in Institute activity.” She was still processing that Ms. King—instead of being the public face of the Agency—was actually a killing machine, but there wasn’t enough time. I needed her help now.

  “Look. I’m putting together a team to take her down. Are you in, or not? I’ve seen the Superiors in action, first hand, and you obviously know what they can do, too, or you wouldn’t be sending out forty person teams.”

  She looked up from her whirling thoughts. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

  I pursed my lips. “Did you hear about the fiasco in D.C.?”

  “200-plus personnel taken down by an unknown party. Base was blown up to cover. That’s about all our intel got.”

  Of course that was what they would have seen—the same way we saw them trying to plant a bomb in a building just downtown when they had really been there to diffuse it—same as us. But the time for convenient fantasies was over. They hadn’t planted that bomb, the same way we hadn’t blown up our own base.

  “You’re partially right. There were 200 personnel. The party that killed them was the Institute. The Agency still hasn’t sorted through enough of the rubble to figure out what the official story is, but I was on the tac team that found that mess. The bomb was a trojan horse designed to explode in the infirmary of the containment facility a few blocks away, not a cover-up. My team and I barely escaped the two Superiors sent down to investigate what went wrong.

  Her eyes widened. “You escaped pursuit by two Superiors with a team of, what? Five people?”

  I nodded. “You can’t take Ms. King down alone, and neither can I. But I think we can pull it off if we work together.”

  I clo
sed my eyes and monitored Graff’s thoughts carefully. This was the point of decision. She could either accept the offer, or reject it and attack. I wasn’t stupid—I knew that I’d handed the Company intel they’d gladly kill for, and I’d identified myself as a Projector with enough power to erase memories. That was more than enough to justify a bright red target on my back.

  Finally, she nodded. “If you’re taking down the Institute, we’re all in.”

  Chapter nineteen

  I grasped the handle and suppressed my racing thoughts. If I entered this room, there would be no more hiding and no more pretending. What I’d already done was enough to get me locked up—giving classified information to the Company was an unthinkable offense—no matter that Medina had suggested it. But assaulting the Agency’s recruiter? My team and I might not live long enough to celebrate the thousands of lives we’d saved. Unfortunately, Ms. King would kill us all the moment she saw even a glimpse of this in our thoughts. There really was no choice.

  I’d already gathered my team, and they were all waiting on the inside of the door. Those people all knew the danger and were willing to accept it. I could do no less.

  I twisted the handle and slipped inside Ms. Graff’s classroom. Tolden, Black, Steele, and Smith all sat against the right wall, hands on their weapons, eyes locked on Hunt and Ms. Graff who were on the other side of the room.

  “Farina. Good, you’re here. Tell these trained monkeys that there’s no reason to worry. We’re not about to shoot them in the back,” Graff said. Her thoughts were scathing, but she was probably the calmest in the room. She was leaning against the wall, whistling silently as she tried to keep her anger under control.

  “Monkeys? Who are you calling monkeys!” Black leaped to his feet, and the tension ratcheted up another notch as Elaine’s weapon appeared in her hand. Tolden’s mirrored it, and suddenly the entire room was armed except me.

  “Not another step. Just because we aren’t going to shoot you first doesn’t mean you’ll offer us the same courtesy.” This was from Vera Hunt, who was kneeling behind an old fashioned semi-automatic.