Part 1 (1/2)

Terminal Point.

K.M. Ruiz.

For Kelly Weingart, because you've always been a brilliant friend. This one is for you.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.

Just a few thank-yous to everyone who helped me through this process. First and always, I have to thank my mom and dad, who never doubted me. This wouldn't be possible without my patient, awesome, wonderful agent, Jason Yarn. He's a G.o.dsend and this book is so much better because of him. My editor, Brendan Deneen, for telling me not to freak out (confession: I still freaked out), and his spot-on guidance.

To all my friends and family who've cheered me on this journey, especially Trudy North for her wonderful help and sharp eyes. A special, wholehearted thanks goes out to my best friend, Kelly Weingart. I promised her this story for years and I swore one day I would deliver. Kelly? I have delivered. And to all the readers who stuck with me. Thank you.

PART ONE.

Deprivation.

SESSION DATE: 2128.05.07.

LOCATION: Inst.i.tute of Psionics Research.

CLEARANCE ID: Dr. Amy Bennett.

SUBJECT: 2581.

FILE NUMBER: 418.

She is young, only a child, bent over the table and coloring furiously. The wires attached to her hands, arms, back, and head shake with the motion. The crayon she is rubbing down to nothing is red, the black one tossed away. The paper she is using is covered with a shapeless picture. It's the only color in the white room, save for the yellow dress she wears.

The doctor sits across from her and touches a finger to the waxy residue on the large drawing paper. ”Is this how you see the world?”

”This is how the world is now,” Aisling says, pus.h.i.+ng a trailing wire out of the way.

”You could change that,” the doctor says. Her hand beneath the table is shaking. ”You could tell us how to stop the wars.”

”No, I can't.”

”You are being a very selfish little girl, Aisling.”

The girl looks up, her bleached-out violet eyes wide and unblinking as the EEG and supporting machines she is connected to whine shrilly behind her. ”Am I in trouble?”

”Not if you help us. Not if you save us.”

When Aisling speaks, she sounds mournful. ”I can't do that.”

ONE.

AUGUST 2379.

SVEAGRUVA, NORWAY.

They flew east into Bellsund, the arctic waters below mostly free of ice floes. The group of shuttles descended into the Van Mijenfjord beneath the government's security grid, light from the midnight sun s.h.i.+ning down on their wings. They stayed locked in tight formation, all nine following a route uploaded on another continent. The whine of the engines echoed eerily across the vast emptiness of the island they were approaching.

The Van Mijenfjord began to narrow after the first forty or so kilometers, the lack of airs.p.a.ce noticeable, but not dangerous. Skimming above the still arctic waters between ragged sh.o.r.elines, the shuttles sped toward their destination.

Sveagruva was a mining settlement abandoned long ago, located some distance from the head of the Van Mijenfjord. A dilapidated airfield sat at its edge, where the nine shuttles finally came to ground, landing gear sliding dangerously on uneven terrain. Less than half a kilometer away were the remnants of Sveagruva, the dormitories and the supply center long since iced over and eaten away by the elements.

The shuttles switched to standby mode, only their environmental systems running at full. Inside Alpha shuttle, the pilot leaned back in her seat and looked at her navigator.

”Well?” Matron asked. ”Now what?”

Lucas Serca didn't answer. He stared out the forward winds.h.i.+eld, dark blue eyes red from burst capillaries. Bruises pressed beneath his eyes and dried blood clung to the skin of his face, his ears, his neck. As a Cla.s.s I triad psion, Lucas possessed one of the most powerful minds born in this generation, and it was killing him.

”Lucas.”

”We need a day,” Lucas finally said, glancing at the leader of the scavengers. ”Can the shuttles' stealth systems handle that?”

Matron pressed her lips together, brow furrowing. The exhaustion on her dark face was impossible to miss. ”They got us here, so they should be good for it. Let me check with Novak, since he was the only one jacked into the system.”

Lucas levered himself out of the seat, his lean frame rigid with pain. ”You do that.”

He stumbled back into the cargo bay. It was warmer in the main guts of the shuttle than on the flight deck. Lucas leaned his back against the cool metal of the hatch, letting it hold him up as he surveyed their pa.s.sengers.

Threnody Corwin, a Cla.s.s III electrokinetic, was pale-faced and sitting up, a vast improvement from the beginning of this trip, when she couldn't even breathe on her own. Wrapped in several thermal blankets, the former Stryker was carefully peeling off blackened skin from one hand, revealing healed pink flesh beneath the damage. She was still hooked up to an IV and trauma kit, her blue eyes gla.s.sy, but she no longer looked mostly dead.

Sitting beside her, one hand gently pressed to the back of her neck, was Jason Garret. The only Cla.s.s 0 microtelekinetic in existence wasn't looking at either of them. Jason's attention was focused on where his partner, Kerr MacDougal, sat slouched in a seat against the bulkhead beside Quinton Martinez. Both men were unconscious with exhaustion. The IVs hooked to their arms were almost empty and would need to be replaced soon.

”Should you be moving?” Lucas asked.

”Felt the landing,” Threnody rasped. ”Jason took off my restraints.”

”She's doing better than she was even an hour ago,” Jason said. ”Though she still has a long way to go.”

Lucas studied Jason. The microtelekinetic looked better than the rest of them, but that didn't mean he wasn't in pain. Jason's power now let him work on the subatomic level, let him manipulate DNA in order to heal, to create. It's what he was doing right now, still leaning on the nanites in Threnody's body to help heal her since he didn't trust his new strength alone yet.

Jason's upgraded Cla.s.sification didn't come without cost. His mind had been violated by Lucas's youngest sister, Kristen Serca, a dysfunctional Cla.s.s III empath, in order to give him access to his full power. The psychic bond Jason once shared with Kerr was severed after Kristen broke his nearly impenetrable natal s.h.i.+elds. Lucas permanently reset the bond into Quinton, and the link between the pair was still raw. It had saved Jason's life, yes, but at what felt like the cost of Quinton's.

”We make it?” Jason asked in a low voice. He moved his head a little, tipping it back until he exposed his throat. Lucas could see the rise and fall of his Adam's apple as the older man swallowed.