Crystal Choice: The Second Novel in the Projector War Saga Page 9

  Hunt and Briggs exchanged some words, then left together. I felt their minds quiet with distance, and was tempted to follow—but I restrained that instinct. If Briggs was in over his head, then Hunt would know how to handle it. She’d always struck me as a very competent sort of person. Still. What could make someone like Briggs so scared?

  I pulled the video of his passionate face after he watched Houston beat up Smith during the tournament last semester. He was absolutely no match for Houston, but he would have gotten in that ring with him then and there, if someone had given him the chance. He had absolutely no fear. Now, any pretense of bravado was gone.

  He thought that they were changing him, but who were they?

  I didn’t have any answers, so I filed away the information and resolved to talk to Steele about excising Briggs from the school records. He’d asked me to help him, and I could at least do that. Afterward, I might be able to convince him to tell me what was going on. That decided, I hurried to my next class.

  Chapter nine

  Mom was at work when I finally fought free of weekend training. The house was silent. Empty. I retreated to my workbench to tinker, but even that left me feeling unsettled. What was wrong with Briggs? And that bomb in the hotel? And the man with the bowtie that—I stopped my blue lines from running a full analysis on him because of the headache I got every time I tried to do that. It was all connected somehow, but my blue lines couldn’t spit out any answers.

  I tried to focus on fixing up some of the pieces for the miniature engine still laid out on my workbench, but every time I looked at this new technology I was creating, I thought about the bomb, and then the bug I’d put in Ms. Graff’s office, and then Briggs. Thinking about it didn’t help, though. There was nothing I could do about the situation and, even if I could, it would require working with the Company. That would endanger my position in the Agency—and I couldn’t bring myself to betray them.

  I had finally found a place where I belonged. The people there understood what it was like to be different, and to get hung up on the little stuff—like the feeling of changing air waves on my legs while I was wearing a dress. They accepted me with all of my quirks, and were even paying me enough that Mom and I would never have to worry about money again.

  The Agency was a safe haven, and I refused to risk that for a situation I was probably overanalyzing anyway. This was way above my pay grade.

  The front door opened a few minutes after I’d finally given up and put away my tools. Mom was home. I checked her mind for any sign of the burning, but everything was whole. She was fine. She grinned at me and asked how my day was—then hung up her keys and put away the groceries she’d remembered to get on her way home from work!

  I checked her mind more thoroughly after that. She hadn’t remembered to go shopping on her own since before I could remember. And her keys? Maybe those holes in her mind were responsible for a lot more than her nightmares.

  “How is school going?” she asked as she put the kettle on for tea.

  “I like it,” I said.

  She smiled—a real, true grin. “What’s it like? I’ve noticed you are doing better. Standing straighter, looking people in the eyes, bringing home friends!”

  So I told her everything I could about the classes—even how I’d been moved into a class called Social History that was helping me understand what was going on in other people’s heads. When I got to Krav Maga, though, my voice faltered.

  “The first teacher we had was Earl West. He was nice. Mysterious sometimes, but he really wanted to help. There was an accident, though. He died.”

  Mom’s eyes teared up, and she nodded. “I’m going to miss him.”

  My eyes widened. “You knew him?”

  I remembered Mr. West telling me that he was an old family friend. I hadn’t really believed him—but maybe he was telling the truth?

  “I used to,” she said, eyes still wet. She pulled the kettle off the stove as it started to whistle. “I heard about the death, of course. I must have forgotten again by the time you came home. You know how I am. What I don’t understand is why they didn’t cancel school. A thing like that—everyone must have been pretty shaken up.”

  I looked down as she passed me my tea cup. Mom had been shaken up, too. But she didn’t remember that night at all. I’d asked.

  I finished my tea in silence and then turned to go back to my room. It was early, but I’d defused a bomb two days ago, so I had an excuse.

  “Crystal?” Mom said suddenly.

  I turned around at the sound of her voice. “Yeah?”

  Her eyes were clouded but I couldn’t get into her mind. “Just be careful at that school. Be safe.” Then the moment passed and she blinked. “I love you. Never forget that.”

  “I love you, too.”

  And then I fled.

  The rest of the day passed without incident, and soon I was at school again. Half the week passed without so much as a whisper from Tac 47, or an opportunity to talk to Steele. Even Ms. King seemed oddly absent. Not absent enough to keep her from assigning me detention, though. The mandatory recreation period was my one relief from all the tension. It wasn’t entirely a surprise when I caught glimpses of Tabitha Smith’s mind following me on the track with the intent to pass on a message.

  I dropped back so we could talk.

  “What’s up?”

  “If you think you can make it past Hunt and Berry on guard duty, we’re needed downstairs in Tac room 26A. I’ll meet you down there.” She gave the report and sped past.

  I frowned. It wasn’t really surprising, but I’d hoped things would stay quiet for longer. Still, if they needed me badly enough to interrupt my school-day, then things were bad. I altered paths toward the pool. The ‘No Admittance’ sign was hung on the door to the changing rooms, but I tried the handle anyway.

  “The door’s locked, Farina.”

  I sighed. The mind behind me was Eugene Berry, the most uptight Prefect in the whole school. Why couldn’t Hunt have come over instead?

  “Now go back to whatever it was you were doing before I give you detention,” he said with a smirk.

  I clutched at my stomach. The only toilets in the rec area were in the pool locker rooms which, conveniently, had a separate exit to the hallway. “I think I’m going to—” I contracted in one of the motions Ms. King had taught us, pretending I was about to barf.

  “All right, Berry.” That was Hunt. Good. “If you don’t want to clean up a mess, unlock the door and let the girl have some privacy.”

  I gave the other girl a mental nod of appreciation. Berry was a hard-line follow-the-rules-or-get-out-of-my-school kind of guy. Hunt was much more practical. In a few moments, the door was unlocked and I ran toward the nearest stall to make retching noises until their minds retreated. Then I locked the stall and slid under the door. I managed to get down to Martial Base without any teachers or prefects spotting me.

  The rotunda was busy, with people and thoughts moving in directions I couldn’t hope to follow—even if I had time. Instead, I blocked them out the best I could and hurried to the Tac elevator. A few minutes later, I was in Tac room 26A.

  Inside, faces were drawn, and Tabitha was on the edge of panic—though a quick foray into her mind showed that she was more worried about the helicopter than the mission. The others were merely worried.

  They all looked up as I entered the room. I gave Tabitha a quick reassuring smile—though she couldn’t see it because her eyes were closed. If my hearing was as sensitive as hers was, I probably would feel the same way.

  Black looked up a fraction after Smith. “Farina, you’re late.” He tossed me a black tac suit and motioned for me to put it on.

  I accepted the criticism and focused on getting all the straps where they were supposed to go, then donned the plasma pulser rings. When I was settled, Tolden stood and walked to t
he head of the room.

  “Chatter time is over,” he said, and even Tabitha opened her eyes to look at him. “At roughly 14:00 today we received a distress signal relayed from our long term holding facility in D.C.. Something has happened to breach their sister facility, and we’re the closest base with the resources to help.” He met my eyes meaningfully. “We’re the first responders. A convoy is being dispatched within the next two hours, or as soon as all personnel and equipment are gathered, but they’ve got to make a stop in St. Louis to get everything set up so they’ll be a while. In the meantime, we will first, isolate the cause of the distress signal, second, resolve any threats to personnel security, and third, assist in getting the base operational in the short term. Understood?”

  I shook my head. “What holding facility? D. C.? If we have a base in St. Louis, wouldn’t that technically be closer?” Those were only a few of my questions, but it was all I could line up before Tolden sighed and held up his hand.

  “No. We’re the largest base in this half of the U.S., so we’re the ones who address issues like this. As for the detainment facility we’re being sent to assist, it handles overflow from the long term holding facility. Occasionally, we need to shuffle detained neurodivergents around, and they’re the solution. It also works as support, and holds a small intelligence outpost. Luckily, it was nowhere near capacity when it was breached, or we’d be dealing with angry, rogue Psionics. We don’t know much more than what I’ve just told you.”

  I bit my lip. I didn’t like going into this situation with incomplete information, and it was clear that I was missing some background that even Tabitha seemed to have.

  “That’s all the briefing we have time for,” Tolden said. “The chopper is standing by.”

  Black was the first one through the door, followed shortly by Steele and Smith. Tolden grabbed my arm as I moved to exit.

  “Facility jammers will be working to destroy any internal signals. Our communications systems inside will be useless. You’re here as our radar. If something moves, you tell us. Otherwise, watch and learn.” He held up a finger. “This isn’t a job to take lightly. If things get dangerous, you stay out of it unless I tell you otherwise. You might be powerful, but you haven’t had the training for this sort of situation yet, and we can’t afford to lose you. Keep your shields up, and be careful. The inmates might be less powerful than you are, but some of them are highly trained. If the containment areas have been breached, we could be looking at an ugly situation.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Tolden’s slight smile told me that was the correct response, and I followed him out to door, through the passageways, and towards the waiting helicopter.

  “ETA’s 15 minutes. Want the maps, sir?” Steele’s voice crackled over the headphone speaker.

  Tolden nodded curtly to Black, who reached between the seats behind him and dropped a mess of papers on the clear space between the two rows of seats.

  Tolden handed me one side of the map.

  “These are plans of the D.C. holding facility,” he explained. “Steele will drop the chopper just outside the missile defense range, and we’ll be on foot from there. Steele and Smith, you’ll come in these doors here.” He pointed to what looked like an alleyway entrance. “Black, you’re in the elevator shaft. Farina and I are taking front and center. The fact that we got an automated message means the base is in lockdown. Unless someone else—“ meaning a hostile infiltration force, “—took them down, jammers are running fast and hot which means our comms are useless. That’s where you come in, Farina. Any reports that come in get relayed directly to me first, and then to the rest of the team. Any directions I have, you will relay. Understood?”

  I nodded as my thoughts turned to the upcoming mission. It sounded like they needed more people than they actually had, and I was the only reason Tac 47 had been chosen over the other Tac block 4 teams.

  Tabitha frowned. “What about the prisoners?”

  Tolden nodded. “Luckily, we’re talking about the overflow facility and as far as we know, no containment cells have been breached. Now, we’re dealing with a system-wide shut down, so that information could be out of date. We are operating on Alert Three. Be careful, people. I don’t want to have to drag any of you out, got it?”

  I frowned. This was the second time we’d gone in on Alert Three. I couldn’t help but wonder what Alert Two would be.

  Black caught my questioning look and explained. “Alert Two means we shoot first, ask questions later. Alert One means we no longer have questions—just blow the place up.” He gave a bloodthirsty grin as he mentioned Alert One. I shuddered. Blowing things up sounded like fun, but the aftermath rarely was.

  Then everything faded away in front of me as something clawed at the outside of my mind. I tried to shake it off, but it had already started shifting frequencies to match my walls. It was getting inside!

  ::Idiot newbie, stop fidgeting and listen!:: A voice echoed in my head. I obeyed tentatively—ready to start squirming again if he made a move I didn’t like. ::I’m Agent 97, from the D.C. primary facility.::

  I bit my lip, then held up my hand to pause Tolden’s briefing. “I’m listening to a projector right now. He says he’s Agent 97.”

  Tolden’s eyebrows rose. “What’s his rating?” We don’t have many projectors that can contact a moving helicopter.

  I repeated the question.

  ::Check your files. The info’s all there. I’ve got a landing area scouted. Direct your pilot five degrees east.::

  I relayed the answer to Tolden and saw his frown deepen. He pulled a little two inch square out of a pocket in his tac suit and handed it to Black. “Check out 97. Pull his rating, and make sure his assignment matches his story. Steele, alter five degrees east. We’ll go along with him for now. 32, ask him if he has a status update on the overflow facility.”

  ::I don’t have much more than Martial base has. The only comm activity has been that same distress signal. I haven’t gotten close enough to investigate further.::

  “He checks out,” Black reported as he handed the square back to Tolden. “Assigned under Jane Doe, primary base, Washington D.C.. Projection Strength rating 4. That’s all the record we have.”

  Tolden pursed his lips. “He’s Intelligence or Counterintelligence, then. There’s really no way for us to check his story.”

  Tabitha was frowning. “Jane Doe is just code for someone working in intel, right?”

  Black gave a snort. “The Does aren’t regular agents. They’re Joseph Medina’s lieutenants. You didn’t think their names were actually Doe, did you? But what else are we going to call them? They don’t have names—or even numbers. Medina’s paranoid.”

  Medina. The name sounded familiar, so I ran a search for it in my memory. He was the one who had asked so many questions about my family. “Medina is the one over InDep, right?”

  Black laughed. “And he has his hand in a dozen other pies, too. He’s number three in the Agency, just below Ms. King and Ms. Green.”

  I made a mental note to re-organize my mental picture of the Agency’s structure.

  :: I’m sending you my location. You can guide your pilot in from there.::

  Chapter ten

  Steele, Tabitha and I all waited inside the helicopter while Tolden and Black talked with 92 just outside the range of the rotating chopper blades. After a few moments of debate, Tolden motioned to us. We all congregated around 92.

  “I’m going to assume this is 32?” 92 asked, pointing at me.

  Tolden nodded. “PS7, but only about a quarter of the way through her training.” Then he turned to Smith. “She’s been through the full course, but only been on a half dozen missions. We transferred her to Martial for help with the hand-to-hand. She’s an E10 and S1 but has impressive analysis skills. Steele and Black are old hands.”

  92’s eyebrows drew together.
“An entire facility has gone dark, and this is who Ms. Green sends? What happened to the Tac 47 that only had the most experienced agents in the Agency?”

  Tolden tensed, and Black bristled.

  “You coming in with us, or are you going to sit and watch?” Black challenged.

  92 pursed his lips. “I haven’t been able to find anything from out here. What’s your breach plan? The facility is in full lock-down.”

  Tolden gestured for Steele to go get the maps. 92 took the briefing in stride, as if he’d done this every day of his life—and maybe he had. His eyes were inscrutable as he scanned through the plan, offering toneless suggestions here and there based on information he already had about the base. A few minutes later, we were split into our groups, ready to breach.

  Tolden entered his code into the pad, and the lights blinked green. He motioned for me to open the door.

  3, 2, 1, he counted. I relayed it to the other teams, and they opened their doors at the same exact time. Tolden entered, his energy weapon pointed ahead of him. There was nothing in the man-trap—which was good, because there were no lights except for the blinking red LED on the second pinpad. It flipped to a ready yellow color as the door behind us snicked closed, plunging us into darkness. Tolden entered his code, then rested his finger on the enter button. When this door opens, I need you to do a facility-wide scan. You’ll be free of the damper technology, then. I gave a curt nod and swung the door open so he could enter first.

  When I crossed the threshold, I sent my mind along the corridors. Nothing.

  “Sir, there’s no one here.”

  He snorted. “200-and-some-odd personnel don’t just disappear. They’ve got to be around here somewhere. Check again.”

  I swept the facility again—this time checking the corridors I swept with the blueprints as I went. Still nothing—not even in the cell block, which was supposedly still secure. Except…I checked again against the blueprints. There was one room I couldn’t sense. It had to be laced with the same damping technology the man-trap had been.