Psychic Warrior

Epilogue

“Are they alive?” Barnes asked.

“Their bodies are,” Jackson answered. “Their psyches— their selves…” Her voice trailed off

Sergeant Barnes was in a wheelchair next to her, looking at the tubes holding the rest of the second Psychic Warrior team. “You don’t think we’re going to find them, do you?”

Jackson shrugged. “I don’t know. We’re getting different readings off of Raisor. Sybyl doesn’t know what to make of it. We think he’s definitely out there somewhere, but we haven’t been able to make contact.”

Barnes had a gold ring that he was rubbing between two fingers. “What do you— ” He paused as the door to the outside corridor swung open.

Sergeant Major Dalton slowly walked in, his arm in a sling, his face drawn and tight from exhaustion. He’d returned to Denver via Aurora as soon as the surviving Spetsnatz had secured the SD8 base. Then he’d been flown to Bright Gate by a Blackhawk

“Sergeant Major!” Barnes and Jackson said it at the same time.

“You have something of mine.” He held out a hand.

Barnes passed him the wedding band and the sergeant major’s insignia.

Dalton sat down in a chair with a wince. “The Russians are shutting down SD8,” he informed the others. He felt the metal ring in his palm, fingers of the other hand running over the worn metal.

“Chyort?” Jackson said the word in a low voice.

Dalton shook his head. “His physical remains— the brain— is isolated. The Russians are saying they’ll make sure he never gets out.” Dalton held up the ring and looked at the inscription on the inside. Love Always, Marie.

“I have to go to Fort Carson for a funeral.” Dalton slowly stood. He headed for the door, then paused and turned. “Are you going to be all right?”

Jackson forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

Dalton nodded. “Hold the fort. I’ll be back as soon as I can. We’re not done here yet.”