ship."
"Like hell you are."
"Why? Hiding something?"
"Fine," Xander shot back at him. "You do your
little scan and what have you. She fell the other day and had some
memory loss, but that's all. There is nothing wrong with her."
The doctor eyed him suspiciously. "We'll see
about that."
Xander hurried toward Rashad and the rest of
the company that had already begun heading toward the ship. "Did
President Scheidecker say if my request for asylum had been
accepted?"
"Of course not," Rashad said. "I'm not privy
to that information. For all I know, he might want you to fix his
housekeeping robot."
"You don't think he means to turn me over to
the PAU, do you?"
"They're at war with the PAU. Why would they
hand over a brilliant scientist to them? No, I'm fairly certain
this is something much bigger than that."
Chapter Four
Magnius stared out his office window at the
pelting rain that soaked the landscape. The storm kept his boats in
dock all day long, moored to the pier while they weathered the
worst. Because of the vast amount of work to be done, the deckhands
stuck on port managed to stay busy. For one shining moment he could
relax. And yet, at the same time he couldn't.
He hadn't seen his wife since yesterday
morning. The heartrending events replayed themselves without
relenting in the hours since then, and misery followed close
behind. He'd struggled his whole life to fit in with both psions
and normals, but in the end he felt comfortable with neither.
Like most other mysteries of nature, science
unraveled the complicated biology of psions over the years. Being a
psion had all the common features of a disease and a dominant one
at that; due to this, only one parent need have the alleles for all
offspring to be psions. Genetic testing to distinguish psions from
normal humans had never been conclusive because the mutations were
so slight and varied from psion to psion. A complex interaction
produced varying power levels, classified by tiers. Tier-1
designated the psions not far removed from normals with minor
abilities, while Tier-10 denoted the maximum known extent of
psionic capabilities. Distribution amongst tiers was exponential,
with lower tiers making up the bulk of psions.
Like chess pieces, each type had unique
advantages and disadvantages. Telepaths trumped telekines while
Seers got the best of everything. Not all psions could extend their
lives, just those with a high secondary psychometabolism. It shamed
him to fall into that category.
He ran his hands through his mottled hair. A
happy picture of him and Lyneea mocked him from his desk. Life on
Fantasti had been lonely, and he should've known better than marry
a woman so opposed to psions no matter how smitten he was with
her—a foolish mistake that would cost him dearly. With how their
relationship degraded these past few years, part of him wondered if
he'd really loved her at all.
Long ago he resigned to being different,
condemned to life as an outcast if he didn't project a lie. The
persona of Matt Zoleki required years of meticulous planning, long
hours at the office, and mountains of paperwork. He hid behind his
falsified identity for the past forty years, the only thing
tethering him to normalcy, because if he didn't, he stood a good
chance of being dead like all the others glamorized 24/7 on the
news.
His attention drifted back toward his window.
The rain had stopped, and the violent squall appeared to have
passed. It was too late to send the boats out so he decided to head
home. He grabbed his black raincoat and walked out of his office.
If it started raining again on the way home, the trip would be
horrible on his hoverbike.
"Leaving early today?" Justine asked after he
passed by her desk. "When's the last time that happened?"
He glanced at her and smiled. "Not for
years."
"You should pick up some flowers for your
wife." She took a sip of tea from a ceramic mug on the desk.
"Remind her how much you love her."
The mention
"Like hell you are."
"Why? Hiding something?"
"Fine," Xander shot back at him. "You do your
little scan and what have you. She fell the other day and had some
memory loss, but that's all. There is nothing wrong with her."
The doctor eyed him suspiciously. "We'll see
about that."
Xander hurried toward Rashad and the rest of
the company that had already begun heading toward the ship. "Did
President Scheidecker say if my request for asylum had been
accepted?"
"Of course not," Rashad said. "I'm not privy
to that information. For all I know, he might want you to fix his
housekeeping robot."
"You don't think he means to turn me over to
the PAU, do you?"
"They're at war with the PAU. Why would they
hand over a brilliant scientist to them? No, I'm fairly certain
this is something much bigger than that."
Chapter Four
Magnius stared out his office window at the
pelting rain that soaked the landscape. The storm kept his boats in
dock all day long, moored to the pier while they weathered the
worst. Because of the vast amount of work to be done, the deckhands
stuck on port managed to stay busy. For one shining moment he could
relax. And yet, at the same time he couldn't.
He hadn't seen his wife since yesterday
morning. The heartrending events replayed themselves without
relenting in the hours since then, and misery followed close
behind. He'd struggled his whole life to fit in with both psions
and normals, but in the end he felt comfortable with neither.
Like most other mysteries of nature, science
unraveled the complicated biology of psions over the years. Being a
psion had all the common features of a disease and a dominant one
at that; due to this, only one parent need have the alleles for all
offspring to be psions. Genetic testing to distinguish psions from
normal humans had never been conclusive because the mutations were
so slight and varied from psion to psion. A complex interaction
produced varying power levels, classified by tiers. Tier-1
designated the psions not far removed from normals with minor
abilities, while Tier-10 denoted the maximum known extent of
psionic capabilities. Distribution amongst tiers was exponential,
with lower tiers making up the bulk of psions.
Like chess pieces, each type had unique
advantages and disadvantages. Telepaths trumped telekines while
Seers got the best of everything. Not all psions could extend their
lives, just those with a high secondary psychometabolism. It shamed
him to fall into that category.
He ran his hands through his mottled hair. A
happy picture of him and Lyneea mocked him from his desk. Life on
Fantasti had been lonely, and he should've known better than marry
a woman so opposed to psions no matter how smitten he was with
her—a foolish mistake that would cost him dearly. With how their
relationship degraded these past few years, part of him wondered if
he'd really loved her at all.
Long ago he resigned to being different,
condemned to life as an outcast if he didn't project a lie. The
persona of Matt Zoleki required years of meticulous planning, long
hours at the office, and mountains of paperwork. He hid behind his
falsified identity for the past forty years, the only thing
tethering him to normalcy, because if he didn't, he stood a good
chance of being dead like all the others glamorized 24/7 on the
news.
His attention drifted back toward his window.
The rain had stopped, and the violent squall appeared to have
passed. It was too late to send the boats out so he decided to head
home. He grabbed his black raincoat and walked out of his office.
If it started raining again on the way home, the trip would be
horrible on his hoverbike.
"Leaving early today?" Justine asked after he
passed by her desk. "When's the last time that happened?"
He glanced at her and smiled. "Not for
years."
"You should pick up some flowers for your
wife." She took a sip of tea from a ceramic mug on the desk.
"Remind her how much you love her."
The mention
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