Nexus

41 REPERCUSSIONS

Becker swore softly to himself. Morning was breaking over Thailand. His emergency request for aerial recon in the pre-dawn dark three hours ago had been denied. The National Security Advisor had called a meeting to discuss events in Thailand for Sunday morning in DC. That was more than thirty-six hours in the future. They couldn't wait that long.

Was this a time to use the card he'd been given?

The President cares very much about your work, he'd been told. If you ever have a pressing issue that needs fast attention, just let me know.

Barnes. Maximilian Barnes, the President's Special Policy Advisor. The President's bag man. A man that had done things Becker wished he didn't even know about… A man that Warren Becker frankly feared.

This is my private number.

Becker sighed. This was one of those pressing issues. He reached down, pulled a bottle and a glass from his bottom drawer, poured himself two fingers of Laphroaig, and took a swallow. Then he dialed the number.

Barnes answered right away. Yes, he certainly remembered Becker. What did he need?

Becker explained. Their conversation was brief and to the point.

Yes, this sounded like the sort of thing the President would take an interest in. Yes, waiting another two days before launching recon drones would be unacceptable. No, Becker hadn't presumed too much in calling. He would have his approval to launch recon drones by nightfall, Thailand time.

Becker disconnected the call. His hand was shaking slightly. That man terrified him. The things Becker knew Barnes had done were enough… The things he was rumored to have done…

He shook his head, took another swallow of the Laphroaig to calm himself, turned his attention to the after-action report on the events in Bangkok.

Twelve ERD contractors killed. Ted Prat-Nung dead. Three of his men dead. Watson Cole dead. Suk Prat-Nung found dead in the building across the alley, next to a high-ranking monk and a petty criminal, both also dead. Yet another man dead in the alley itself, his throat messily cut. Four dead men on the roof of that building. It had been a multi-site bloodbath.

And last of all, twelve civilians killed inside the apartment – a handful of students, a burnt-out ex-nun and and her burnt-out ex-monk husband, a used-up whore, a young drug dealer – and this freakish child, this freakish creature.

Mai, they'd called it.

Becker shivered. What they'd pieced together corroborated one of the President's worst fears. Children born with Nexus abilities from birth. A new subspecies able to communicate telepathically with one another. How would they treat the rest of humanity? He thought of his two beautiful, normal, healthy daughters. Would these freaks turn his daughters into a new underclass? Into slaves for the new elites? The thought made him ill.

This creature Mai. The Confucian Fist clones. Shu – quite possibly no longer human herself. It was an unholy convergence of perversities. His daughters would live in a world where they were beset by enemies, beset by threats to the entire human race.

He took another swallow of the Laphroaig, followed it with a deep breath.

And Cataranes. Sam. What happened there? Shu must have coerced her. Nothing else made sense. Damn it. It was his fault, for sending her out in the field with Nexus in her skull. They hadn't imagined that Shu could coerce someone so quickly, so silently, without warning.

I'm sorry, Sam. We're going to get you back. We're going to fix you, if we can.

Becker turned back to the dead contractors, studied their faces, memorized their names. They'd been good men, doing an important job. He'd sent them into danger. He'd given the order to detonate the charges in their skulls, in the skulls of the dead and the still-breathing alike, rather than let them fall into Thai custody. Their blood was on his hands.

Had he done the right thing?

Yes. He was a good soldier. He'd followed the rules. Rules that were there for a reason.

He swallowed the last of the Laphroaig. It warmed him as it went down. It comforted him.

He read through the contractors' bios again. He would remember these men.

And he would do the same thing again, if he had to. The stakes were far too high for anything else.

Martin Holtzmann sat in his own office, reviewing the events in Bangkok.

Such a waste. Such an appalling waste.

Narong Shinawatra, the boy they'd coerced. Dead. Senselessly dead. What had gone wrong with their software?

Ted Prat-Nung, a competent nano-engineer before he'd become a drug dealer. Dead.

The child Mai. What would it be like to be born with Nexus in one's mind? To be able to speak mentally from birth with others who had the same capabilities. How would it affect language development? How would it affect intelligence? How would it affect social behaviors?

He had so many questions.

Dead. Just another dead end.

The Lane boy, with all he knew, all his ideas. Lost to them. Holtzman had hoped still to persuade that one to join them.

Not for the first time, Holtzman contemplated the Nexus stored in the secure laboratory two floors down. He had complete access to it. There were so many curiosities he had about it…

No. That was crossing one line too many.