Psychic Warrior

Chapter Twenty-one

Feteror hesitated. He looked down at his right hand. The claws had torn into the American’s back, going in over six inches, yet the man had ignored the pain and jumped. The other American who had jumped between them had died with one slice, the head neatly separated.

Feteror knew he could follow the Americans into their hole in the Rocky Mountains. He felt he now had the power to break through their psychic fence. Like a wolf among the sheep, he could rip them to shreds.

He turned and looked back toward the east, where the battle had occurred. With regret, Feteror jumped back.

He came into reality on top of the wreckage of the cargo car, scaring the wits out of the men pulling the bombs out.

Leksi yelled, telling the men to keep working, to ignore the demon. Then the naval commando climbed up to face Feteror.

“You were late,” Leksi said. “Who were the others? The ones who fight like you?”

“Americans.” Feteror liked the way his demon voice sounded, like boulders rubbing together, underlaid with the treble of the screams of the damned. “And I was not late. This was your job, not mine.”

“And I will finish it if you would stop frightening my men.”

Feteror snapped into the virtual plane.

Barsk kept a safe distance from the men reeling the thick black cables.

“Are you ready yet?” he demanded of the scientist.

Vasilev sighed and looked up from the computer terminal he’d been working at for the past hour. “This program was written for top-of-the-line computers in 1963. Computers have come a long way since then. This was upgraded several years ago but it is still out of date. I am trying to integrate the old software with the new hardware, but it is difficult.”

“I don’t want to hear excuses,” Barsk said.

“I’m not giving you excuses,” Vasilev replied. “I am telling you what is happening.” He ran a trembling hand through his gray hair. “I can assure you I want this to work more than you do. It will put an end to the nightmare my life has been.”

“Then get it working,” Barsk snapped. “I’m beginning to— ” He halted as he felt a wash of cold through his stomach. He turned.

The Chyort coalesced into being inside the hangar.

“Are you ready yet?” the demon hissed.

“We still have to hook up the power cables,” Barsk said.

A long claw pointed toward Vasilev. “Is the program for the phased-displacement generator ready?”

Vasilev shrugged. “I am working on it.”

Chyort blinked out of existence and then reappeared, looming over the old man. “You’re working on it?”

“I am doing my best.” Vasilev took an involuntary step backward, bumping into the computer console. “It has been many years and— ” He paused as a claw touched his neck, pressing against the pulse that beat on one side.

“There are things worse than death.” Chyort’s words swept over the scientist. “You know that, don’t you?”

Vasilev nodded.

“I know you don’t fear death,” Chyort continued. “But what I will do to you if you fail me will be worse than anything you can imagine. I will— ” The demon paused, the head turned.

Then the creature was gone.

Dalton swam in the pain, his entire body awash in it. He tried to push his mind through the overwhelming tide of agony. He remembered the bayonet; he focused on it, the feeling of ice sliding into his back. Then the butt stroke from the NVA soldier holding the AK-47.

Awakening in the prison. Weak from loss of blood. Reaching, feeling blood still soaking through the dirty rag tied over the wound. Pressing his back against the concrete wall, stopping the bleeding. Holding the position, even when the guards came in and kicked, he pushed against the wall, knowing if he didn’t, he would bleed out.

“Sergeant Major?”

No, Dalton thought. I’m just a Spec/4. Junior team member.

“Sergeant Major?”

Dalton tried to open his eyes but there was only darkness. And the pain.

“Sergeant Major! This is Dr. Hammond.”

Hammond? Why was it so dark? Even in the cell there had always been a little light seeping in from the corridor.

A white dot appeared, so tiny and so far away.

“Focus on the dot.”

Dalton tried to scream, but instead he gagged. Something was in his throat, blocking.

“We’re bringing you out, but you have to be aware.” The voice was insistent.

Dalton wished the woman would just shut up. He slid down the concrete wall and rolled onto the floor into the fetal position. He was so tired and it hurt so badly.

A new voice ripped into his skull, louder than the other one.

“Damn it, Sergeant Major! This is Lieutenant Jackson. I’m ordering you to get back here. Don’t you give up!”

Dalton shivered, feeling cold seep into his body, strangely lessening the pain. He saw Marie, the same as when he had first met her, the skin on her face smooth, flawless. She was beckoning to him to go in a different direction. Dalton pushed himself to his hands and knees. He began crawling toward Marie.

“Come back, Sergeant Major Dalton.”

Dalton felt the opposing tugs, Marie and the warmth and comfort of just going to her, and Lieutenant Jackson’s voice grating on his mind, his conscience, his sense of duty. He looked toward Marie and he knew she knew. She smiled sadly and faded from view, mouthing something that he couldn’t make out.

Dalton stared in her direction until there was nothing there. The other voice kept nagging at him. Then he remembered.

The team was gone. Massacred. He couldn’t do it again. He couldn’t fight again. The last time, he had left Marie alone for five years. He couldn’t do that to her again.

He let go of his grip, sliding toward where Marie had been.

He saw her once more.

“Why did you summon me?” After the glorious feeling of power during the battle with the Americans, being contained inside Zivon was unbearable to Feteror.

“Because the situation has changed,” General Rurik said. “Twenty nuclear warheads have been stolen.”

“You have already tasked me to accomplish two missions. Yet you bring me back here to inform me of this?”

“Did you find the phased-displacement generator?” General Rurik demanded.

“No.”

Rurik stepped closer to the speaker. “Did you find my family?”

“I have a lead that I was tracking down when you called me back.”

“Give me the lead,” Rurik ordered.

“I am forwarding the information through Zivon,” Feteror said. “But it would be best if you allowed me to continue on the mission.”

“I do not trust you,” Rurik said. “You are up to something. You will wait while I verify what you have learned.”

Feteror remained silent, itching to get away. He forwarded information through the electronic channels of Zivon. He watched as General Rurik took it off the computer screen and then grabbed a phone, calling Moscow, shutting down the psychic wall for a moment.

A spear of pain slammed into Dalton’s chest. It felt like his lungs were getting ripped out through his throat.

“Goddamn it, Sergeant Major, you’ve got to hold on.”

The words were coming from outside, from a great distance, but the fact that they were external was so novel to Dalton, he marveled at it for a few moments. So much had been inside his head for so long now.

Another voice— it was Hammond’s, a part of his mind recognized— spoke: “He’s in arrest. Stand clear.”

Dalton screamed as a jolt of electricity through the microprobe lanced his chest. The pain was bad, but the real hurt was seeing Marie fade again with each pulse of his heart in response to the electric shock.

“No!” Dalton yelled, the word garbled by embryonic fluid sputtering out of his mouth. He rolled to his side vomiting, knocking away Hammond, who was getting ready to shock him again.

“He’s got a pulse,” Hammond announced.

Dalton pushed away Jackson’s hand as she tried to hold his head.

“Leave me alone,” he whispered. He turned to his other side, his back to those in the room, and kept his eyes closed. He searched for another glimpse of Marie, but there was nothing.

Leksi swung his arm around his head and pointed up. The pilot responded by increasing throttle and pitch on the blades. Laden with ten of the nuclear bombs, the first Hip rose into the air.

Leksi ran to the second and jumped on board. It followed the first.

Leksi flipped open his cellular phone and punched in memory one.