Psychic Warrior

Chapter Thirteen

“What is this place?” Barsk asked as the wheels of the plane touched the runway. They had flown for several hours after getting the generator on board. The plane had taken the weight, but the pilots had been forced to use every foot of runway to get them into the air.

“An old airbase,” Leksi said.

“I can see that.” Barsk was tired and his fear of the large man had diminished in proportion to his weariness. He could clearly see that the buildings and hangars had long been out of use. The plane was slowing.

“This is one of the bases where the planes the Americans sent over during the Great Patriotic War were flown to,” Leksi said. He pointed out the small window. “In that building the American insignia was painted over and the Soviet star was painted on. A crew of our people then manned the plane and flew it to the front.”

“And why are we here?” Barsk asked as the plane came to a halt, then slowly turned and began taxiing toward a hangar, with an open door.

“This is where I was told to take the generator for the first stop,” Leksi said simply.

Barsk could now see there were several helicopters inside the hangar next to the one they were headed for. Men dressed in black fatigues stood in the shadows, weapons slung over their shoulders, watching.

“Who are they?”

“The men and equipment we will need for the next phase.” Leksi stood as the back ramp began coming down. “But do not concern yourself, you go elsewhere from here. I’ll take care of the next phase without your help. There’s something you need to see.”

Barsk followed as Leksi disembarked, walked out of the hangar, and headed for a hangar that stood some distance from the other buildings. Its large door was opened by two men dressed in black fatigues. Leksi led the way to a trap door in the floor. He threw it open, pointing his flashlight into the hole.

Barsk peered down. A naked old man chained to a metal post was lying on the floor. The old man stirred, holding a hand up to protect his eyes from the light.

“Who is that?” Barsk asked.

“Professor Vasilev,” Leksi said. He threw the door shut. “You are to take him with you to the next site. He will be responsible for setting up the phased-displacement generator.”

“What is the cylinder?” Feteror asked. He had finished his report, telling the general that a group of mercenaries had killed the GRU surveillance team and had loaded a strange steel cylinder and other equipment onto a plane and flown off to the south.

“That is not your concern,” Rurik said. “You do not know who these people were?”

“Ex-military,” Feteror said. “They wore unmarked uniforms and acted like soldiers. They didn’t exactly line up and tell me their names.”

“Your report is insufficient,” Rurik snapped.

“It is insufficient because you didn’t give me enough power to cross over and find things out. I could have ripped open a throat or two and gotten someone to talk. I could have stopped them if you’d given me the power, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation. It is insufficient because you pulled me back too soon. Before I could see where the plane went.”

“Do not lecture me!” General Rurik screamed. Everyone stopped working and stared at their commanding officer. Rurik lowered his voice. “You do what I tell you to.”

“Then you should be satisfied with my report.” Inside his steel housing, Feteror felt better than he had in years. All was progressing quite well. Tapping his data banks, he brought up a picture and could see the general’s pretty young wife. And the young children. Two boys. Perfect.

“Get back in your pit!” Rurik slammed his fist down on the power level.

Feteror’s electric eyes and ears shut off.

Dalton sideslipped and began falling, tumbling out of control.

“Relax,” Hammond said. “Spread your wings.”

Dalton arched his back and spread his arms— wings— wide. They caught and the descent slowed. “Am I outside?”

“You will have to look to see.”

“How do I do that?”

“This is where you must look into the real world from the virtual,” Hammond said. “How do I do that?” Dalton asked once more, slowly circling where he was, in the middle of the same fog he’d been in since entering the virtual world. “Concentrate. It is just like focusing on the white dot.”

“Great.” Dalton did as Hammond said. Gradually the fog began clearing. He saw white peaks, mountains. “When you do this, your psyche is on the line between the virtual and the real world,” Hammond said. “But your avatar is still in the virtual. If you know where you are and you know where you are going, you can ‘fold’ the virtual world and ‘jump’ there.” “I don’t understand,” Dalton said. He was beginning to see the peaks more clearly. “You know where you are, and you know where you want to be. Traveling in the virtual world is different than the real. Sometimes you can cover great distances in an instant.”

“Sometimes?” Dalton asked. He saw the white cross of the Mount of the Holy Cross. “We ’re not exactly sure how it works,” Hammond admitted. “Great.”

Dalton turned his face to the east. He pictured where he wanted to be and dove in that direction. There was a bright flash of light and then he was over the Plains to the east of the Rockies. Banking, he turned and could see Pikes Peak to the west, Cheyenne Mountain to the left.

Dalton headed down toward a large building. “What about walls?”

“From what RVers have reported, it will be disconcerting but you can pass right through walls on the virtual plane.”

Despite that assurance, Dalton flinched as the outside wall of the building rushed up. There was a moment of blackness, a feeling of hitting something not quite solid, passing through, and then he was inside. He hit the floor of a hallway and was halfway into it before he stopped and drew himself up.

He floated down until he found the right room. He slid in, then paused. There was someone else inside. Dr. Kairns was standing there, staring at Marie. She straightened for a second, as if sensing his presence. Kairns reached down and gently moved a stray lock of gray hair off Marie’s face, then turned to walk out of the room. She hesitated at the door, looking back into the room, then left.

Dalton looked down at Marie. What he saw wasn’t the person in the bed, but the young woman he had met thirty-four years ago. The woman who had been waiting for him after five years of separation, standing on the tarmac as he got off the plane bringing him back with the other POWs. Who had withstood his long absences and always been there when he came back. And now he was gone when she needed him the most. He couldn’t hide from his responsibility any longer.

Dalton looked at his wife and concentrated. Then he really did see her, standing over the body in the bed. As she had been, her long blond hair flowing over her shoulders, her face smooth and unwrinkled, her green eyes bright and happy. She was as Dalton had always seen her in his cell, in his memory.

“Treasure?” Dalton projected the word toward the vision.

She turned. “Jimmy?” A broad smile lit up her face. “Oh, Jimmy, it’s been so long this time.”

“I know.”

Marie frowned. “But I’m the one who’s been away, haven’t I?”

Dalton nodded. He was afraid to get closer to her, afraid her form, which he could see through, would break apart and float away like a mist before a strong wind.

Before his eyes the young woman aged, lines that Dalton knew his army career had contributed to greatly began to materialize, flowing across her, giving her an imprint of the years she had lived, producing in Dalton a deep sense of sadness.

Marie smiled again, this time with sadness resonating through. “I’m hurt too bad to come back Jimmy.”

Dalton nodded once more, not trusting even his mental voice.

“Is it all right if I go? It feels so much better like this, being free, rather than trapped like I’ve been.”

She had always been there for him, but she had always done what she wanted also. The question was the courtesy the two had always given each other over the years.

“I think it’s fine if you go, Treasure.”

“You look like an angel,” Marie said. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Dalton said. He reached his hand up. The image of Marie did the same. The two hands flowed into each other. Dalton felt an electric shock run up his arm/wing.

“You’ve always been my Treasure,” Dalton said.

“I know,” Marie said, “and you ’ve been mine.”