I rose to my feet and flattened myself against one of the walls, waiting for my next instruction.
“Turn right. Target, end of hallway,” the mechanical voice informed me.
The mission statics obscured my left eye’s view a second later: Disposed: 7. Remaining: 15. Ammunition: 65%. Time remaining: 19:52. Target: In sight. Health: 75%.
I sprinted for the door at the end of the corridor, cradling my left arm to my chest as the electrical impulses fired, painfully, over and over again. I wanted to bust the door down mentally, but I knew that wouldn’t work. When I reached it several seconds later, I turned the knob with my right hand – locked. Of course it was. I flashed to a different mission, a real mission, where the knob had refused to turn. I shook my head to clear the thoughts. I raised my right arm above my head, clenching my hand into a tight fist, and steeled myself against the impending impact. I brought my elbow down as hard as I could on the knob. I heard a sharp crack, and felt pain radiate outward from my funny bone. Crap, that hurt worse than I’d anticipated. I looked down; the holographic door knob was dangling uselessly and the door was slightly ajar. I pushed it open the rest of the way and stepped into the room.
A scientist stood behind a table full of beakers and brightly colored vials. Was this really happening? I shook my head again. It was like déjà vu, except this had actually happened. I gritted my teeth and raised my throbbing right arm, pointing the gun levelly at the scientist.
“Kill,” the mechanical voice ordered. Icy fear pumped through my veins for the first time since starting the simulation. I hadn’t intended to program any Kill Scenarios.
I swallowed over the lump in my throat. The man held up his hands in surrender. His head was bent when I walked into the room, but now he raised it until his hard gray eyes met mine. He looked nothing like the balding man from my actual mission, he actually reminded me a little of Mac. I sneered at him before pulling the trigger, without hesitation. I fired a single shot. It buried itself in the space between his knitted eyebrows, then he disintegrated.
“Vacate the premises to complete mission,” the mechanical voice ordered. Several inches in front of my right lens a floor plan of the simulation appeared, Xs marking the exits. The closest one was back in the conference room. I spun on my heel and tore from the room.
Disposed: 8. Remaining: 14. Ammunition: 62%. Time remaining: 14:52. Target: Acquired. Health: 55%.
I weighed my options. Fourteen potential combatants remained in the simulation. My left arm was basically useless, I could barely move it. My right arm throbbed, and my fingers were twitching too badly to get off any more steady shots. I needed to reach the nearest exit and get out, if I wanted to successfully complete this mission.
I retraced the steps I’d taken just minutes before, and found myself back in the now empty conference room. I tapped the side of my glasses to bring up the floor plan with the marked exits again. I reached out and tapped once on the X that marked an exit in the conference room. A mini floor plan of the room that I was now standing in took shape, in front of my right eye. The X was on the huge picture window. I walked over to the picture window and looked out. The room that I was in appeared to be thirty stories high, maybe more, overlooking a city that I thought might be D.C. I wasted several long moments contemplating my next move. I was actually still in the arena, not thirty stories above the nation’s capital, and therefore if I did jump out this window, my fall would not be nearly that far. I also knew that I was probably on the top level of the practice arena, and jumping out of this window would, in reality, be jumping over the rail that surrounded the observation deck; it would still be a solid five story fall.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs from the basement, behind me. I made a snap decision. I wasn’t strong enough to fight off any more attackers. I fired the remaining bullets in my gun at the window, my hand shaking so badly that I was just glad my target was an entire wall. The holographic glass shattered in front of me. The footsteps grew louder. I backed up several feet, took one last deep breath, and sprinted the short distance across the conference room, throwing myself over the side.
I let the glorious rush of adrenaline engulf me for several seconds before I mentally slowed my falling body, floating the rest of the way to the arena floor. I landed on my back with a soft thud. The Sim scenario evaporated around me, as the lights in the arena came back on. I waited for the final mission statistics to appear in front of my glasses.
Final Statistics: Disposed: 8. Remaining: 14. Ammunition: 53%. Time remaining: 10:31. Target: Acquired/Deceased. Health: 55%. Overall Score: 86%. Overall Rank in Accordance with Attempts: 1/2136 attempts. I beamed. Not too bad, I thought smiling to myself. Not too bad at all.
When I finally returned to my room that night, my body ached from the physical abuse. My mind buzzed from the strain of my attempts to direct bullets firing from the gun barrel thousands of times. Despite all of that, I felt alive, invigorated, and most of all, happily exhausted.
Mac was right about one thing – my solo mission, also known as the-mission-I-needed-to-complete-before-I-could-actually-graduate-from-school, would be coming up soon. I decided to continue my early morning runs and sensory training, even when our regular training schedules resumed after the holiday. I also kept up with the extra nightly Sim sessions.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Erik treated me as if nothing had happened after the Festivis Celebration. That, of course, brought on a rush of fresh worries. He definitely regretted kissing me. Maybe I’d misinterpreted the entire situation? Maybe he’d never actually wanted to kiss me to begin with. Except, I’d read his feelings right out of his mind, and he had wanted to kiss me. Had I been too drunk to read his mind correctly? Maybe I’d projected my feelings of wanting on to him, and he’d only thought that he wanted to kiss me.
I spoke to Penny at length about the situation. I was so used to keeping everything bottled up inside, it felt good to have a friend that I could talk to about everything. We obsessed over every interaction between me and Erik, trying to decide what it meant. Penny gave me suggestions on “playing it cool”; she urged me to act just as disinterested as he seemed. That was easier said than done. I didn’t want to be disinterested. I wanted to dig into his head and find out exactly what he was thinking. Penny thought that might make me appear a little desperate, or, even worse, psycho. Unfortunately, I felt a little desperate, and maybe a little crazy too. Erik’s indifference was infuriating.
Likewise, we talked about every single interaction that Penny had with Harris, and what they meant. The two had been hanging out regularly since Festivis. Unfortunately, I was much less experienced when it came to dating than Penny, so I provided little insight into their encounters. Mostly I just listened, and made the appropriate responses to her musings, but I did assure her that he was a nice guy. His dating history wasn’t as colorful as Erik’s, so that was probably a check in the plus column for him, and I’d hung out with a couple of the girls he’d dated over the years, always getting the impression that he treated them well.
I was happy that Penny was enjoying her time with Harris, but it also made me uneasy to know that she was spending time with Donavon. It wasn’t a lot of time, and it was unfair and irrational for me to feel jealous; I didn’t want to see him, I wasn’t ready. I didn’t know what I’d say to him if I did see him. Still, for some reason, I couldn’t help but envy Penny’s interactions with Donavon. I never told her about my feelings, and she was careful not to mention what little interaction that she did have with him.
Several weeks after the holiday, I returned from my morning run to a comm from Mac. All that he said was to meet him in the main building before practice today. I had a feeling that I knew what the meeting was about. My solo mission. Graduation was only a month away, and I’d started getting anxious because I hadn’t heard anything. Every day I asked Henri if he’d heard anything, but he seemed just as uneasy as I was. Many of the Pledges had already completed their solo missions
and were now able to relax, knowing that they were graduating.
Solo missions were assigned by Mac and Captain Alvarez. Supposedly the missions weren’t assigned in any particular order, but I’d kind of expected Mac to give me mine earlier, rather than later. Although, given our last few less-than-friendly interactions, I presumed that he was making me squirm on purpose, by saving mine for so close to graduation. I wasn’t the absolute last to receive my assignment, but I was close.
I felt a mixture of relief and apprehension, as I showered and changed in record time. I literally ran out of my room. Impatient, I jabbed at the elevator button as if that would make it arrive faster. Once inside, I hit the first floor option, repeatedly pushing the button to close the door, until they slid soundlessly shut. My entire body vibrated with anticipation and nerves. This was it. Finally, I was going to prove myself, proving to all of my doubters that I belonged here, and verifying that Mac and Henri’s confidence in me wasn’t unfounded.
When the elevator came to a stop in the lobby, I didn’t bother waiting for the doors to open completely, instead sliding sideways, through the gap, and taking off at a run towards the main building.
“I’m here to see Mac,” I panted, to the receptionist.
“Excuse me, dear?” the middle-aged brunette smiled, looking up from her computer.
“Sorry, Director McDonough. I’m here to see Director McDonough,” I said, impetuously.
“And who should I say is wishing to speak with him, dear?” her plastered on smile irked me further.
“Natalia Lyons. He’s expecting me,” I tapped my foot, impatiently, as she pressed a button on her panel communicator, informing Mac that I was here.
“Follow me, dear,” she motioned, getting up from her desk.
“No need, I know the way,” I waved her off. I took the stairs to Mac’s office two at a time. Grabbing the knob of the thick wooden door bearing his nameplate, I paused briefly. Tension rolled through the closed door. I opened my mind. Mac wasn’t alone. Captain Alvarez and Henri were both in the room too. I should’ve expected as much; Henri was my team leader, and Captain Alvarez was the leader of the Hunters. What I didn’t understand was why the atmosphere was so tense. Solo missions were a normal part of the Pledge program, leading up to graduation.
Suddenly, an awful thought occurred to me. What if this wasn’t about my solo mission? What if I’d done something wrong? What if I was in trouble? Mac knew that I’d broken down after our Kill Hunt, but the official report stated I’d been the one to actually perform the kill.
What if they knew that I hadn’t been able to go through with it myself? That Erik had to do it for me? Was that why I hadn’t been given a solo assignment yet?
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and braced myself, before turning the knob. The men were talking in low voices, but grew quiet, all three heads turning to me when I entered, in unison.
“Natalia, please come in. Take a seat,” Mac greeted me, motioning to the empty chair between Henri and Captain Alvarez.
“Mac. Captain. Henri,” I nodded to each in turn, as I walked slowly to my chair.
Henri looked uncomfortable, wringing his hands in his lap and clenching his jaw. I opened up my mind and quickly scanned his: he was more than uncomfortable, he was scared. He kept repeating, over and over, in his head, this is wrong, this is wrong. My blood ran cold. I was in trouble.
Carefully, I sat on the edge of the empty seat. “You wanted to see me?” I asked Mac, swallowing over the lump that had materialized in my throat.
“Yes, Natalia. As you are aware, you need to complete a solo mission prior to graduation.” I sighed heavily, my body sagging with relief – thank goodness, this was about the solo mission. I nodded my understanding.
“The Crypto bank received some intel last night about Ian Crane.”
I froze. Mac paused and looked directly in to my eyes, searching for understanding. Somehow I managed to jerkily nod. I knew who Ian Crane was. He was the Coalition’s equivalent to Mac, except Ian Crane and the Coalition killed innocent people, people who wanted no part of the civil war over territory . . . people like my parents. Ian Crane’s men had been the ones who to invade the hotel and kill my parents. Ian Crane was the name that had kept me awake at night as a child. Ian Crane was the name that I equated with revenge. Ian Crane was the faceless man that I pictured every time I killed a hologram in the Sim scenario. I would not hesitate to kill Ian Crane.
“Ian Crane and his family are arriving in Las Vegas in a week; the preparations for their arrival are already well under way. I need you to go to Vegas, get in to the compound where the Cranes are staying, and gather as much intel as you can. I want pictures of everything that you can get your hands on. I want pictures of every single person that Ian Crane meets with. I want pictures of every member of his family,” Mac’s voice rose an octave with every statement. “And if you get an opportunity, I want you to kill Crane,” since Mac added the last part mentally, I figured that it wasn’t part of the official assignment.
No wonder the tension in the room was so thick; this mission was not an ordinary solo Hunt, it was huge, and extremely dangerous. Ian Crane was rarely, if ever, out in public. He spent most of his time on heavily guarded compounds, much like Elite Headquarters and the School’s grounds. He seldom spent any time in a city where he would be vulnerable to attack. Mac lived in a similar manner. All of Toxic’s facilities were heavily guarded, even more so when Mac was around. He never stayed more than a night or two in any city, and he traveled with a specialized guard of Agency Operatives.
“What exactly am I supposed to do?” I squeaked.
“This will not be a stealth mission. You will find one of his men and convince him to bring you on to the compound. You’ll need to keep up this cover for as long as possible. You’ll fill the man’s head with whatever is necessary to keep him happy, just be sure that he continues to take you on to the compound, and that he does so without attracting too much attention to either of you.”
The lump in my throat had grown so large, that I nearly choked on my spit when I tried to swallow. I’d never actually been trained in deception. Controlling a man’s will was dangerous, and consumed a great deal of mental energy. Hopefully I could find a weak-willed victim. Mac must really believe in me if he’s willing to take such a big risk, I thought. Pride filled me, nearly seeping out of my pores. I had no doubt that I should be concerned about the dangers, but just then, I didn’t really care. Mac’s approval meant the world to me, and if he was willing to take the risk, then so was I.
“Toxic is already arranging an apartment in the city for you; you’ll be based there during the mission. Over the next week, techies will be here to outfit you with the latest technology that we have to offer. I trust that you understand how important this mission is? And why you were chosen?”
I nodded. I definitely knew how important this mission was. Part of the problem with the Coalition was that, outside of Ian Crane, Toxic didn’t really know who the leaders were. Ian Crane was the figurehead, but there had to be plenty of other decision-makers. If the Agency could take out the leaders of the Coalition we, could make major headway in ending this war and reunify the country.
I also knew why I’d been chosen. This couldn’t be a stealth mission – it was unlikely that anyone could successfully get by all of the security around the Crane’s residence. Given that, some who could control other people’s minds was necessary, someone to convince her way on to the complex: Me.
“Good,” Mac continued. “You will practice with your team as usual, unless I send you a communication to the contrary. Henri will excuse you whenever need so that you can become acquainted with the tech you will be using, and any intel the Cryptos are able to gather.”
My eyes shifted Henri. He gave me a tight smile and a small nod, that I think was supposed to be reassuring.
“I don’t want to keep you from practice any longer,” Mac dismissed us.
“Thank you
,” I said quietly, getting up from my chair. Henri stood next to me, and gave a small nod to both Mac and the Captain. He placed one of his large hands on my back, gently guiding me out of the room.
Henri kept his arm wrapped tightly around me the entire way to the practice arena, but remained mute. I didn’t need to read his mind to know that he thought this was a suicide mission. When I did read his mind, I could tell that he was shocked, and more-than-a-little angry that Mac would put me, of all people, in such a dangerous position. He was also chiding himself for not speaking up.
There was no doubt in my mind that Mac cared a lot about me, but Mac also cared a lot about Toxic, ending the war, and reuniting the Nation. The Coalition’s influence grew every day. My recent missions with Henri and Erik had proven that; we’d been sent to disband way too many rallies in the recent months.
Despite that, I firmly believed that Mac wouldn’t risk my life. He was confident in my abilities, and that I’d be able to use my mental manipulation to gain access to Crane’s complex. Once inside, he had faith that I could elicit the information he wanted from the necessary minds, and gather all of the data that he needed.
Part of me was terrified about the threats of the upcoming mission; I’d be a fool not to be scared. Still, the rest of me was bursting with satisfaction at being selected. A mission of this importance would almost never go to a team with a Pledge, let alone be assigned as a solo mission. Sure, I might feel a lot more confident about my chances at success if this were a normal team Hunt, but a team would draw too much attention. One lone girl would appear less threatening, and was less likely to cause alarm.