Free Collide by Christine Fonseca Page A

matched her training now.
    The other recruits also had names reflective of their talents. The Samurai and the Ninja both loved the art of warfare. Where one loved weapons—especially the sword—in addition to his psychic fighting skills, the other was a master in the art of hiding and espionage. He could camouflage himself and those around him while also convincing others not to find him. It was a gift that made the weekly hide-and-seek adventures both difficult and intriguing.
    The Architect felt closest to the Ninja. He was the leader of the group and she followed him around like a lost puppy. But the Ninja didn’t reciprocate her feelings. He thought only of protecting his sister. Nothing the Architect did drew the Ninja’s attention, not even after the accident that took her father’s life.
    The Creator believed the Samurai and the Ninja possessed skills necessary to the upcoming missions, but they weren’t his favorite. Neither was the Architect. That title was reserved for the Assassin. She represented everything to the Creator—clairvoyance, telekinesis, telepathy. More, she was completely cut off from her own morality. The perfect weapon.
    Jealousy had enveloped the Architect during the experiments. She wanted to be the perfect weapon. She wanted the others to look at her with awe. She wanted to be the center of attention.
    Envy didn’t consume the Architect’s thoughts now. Only vengeance for his father’s death.
    And a thirst for retribution.

 
     
    Project Stargate 2.0
    The Solomon Experiments
     
    Dr. Jennings’ Personal Journal –
    Sept 8, 2002
    Day 71:
     
    My trust in the projects falters. I fear Tate and LeMercier are developing the children into weapons. That’s not the goal; at least, it’s never been mine. I tried to speak with Christyn about my misgivings, but she won’t listen. Her heart still belongs to LeMercier; she trusts him too much, believes in his lies. It’s too difficult for her to accept the truth, so she risks too much. Again.
     
    Part of me wants to go along with her, with all of them. I can’t, not when the changes in the children are so profound. Not when I see what the experiments are doing to my own son.
     
    These children are being groomed for war; groomed to kill. Their abilities, the experiments—it’s all a game to them. They’ve even developed code names like they are part of the video and role-playing games they enjoy. I wonder if they understand the truth of their talents, if they can tell the difference between their fantasies and reality. There’s no moral compass guiding the children’s actions now, nothing to help them understand the seriousness of their gifts .
     
    Dr. LeMercier wants us to keep pushing, keep training. He says the government expects results sooner rather than later. While I understand the urgency, I believe we owe the children more.
     
     
    What happens when they figure out what they can really do? Will they develop a taste for their power? Will they turn on each other like some macabre Lord of the Flies reenactment? Will they turn on all of us?
     
    We are foolish to develop their abilities and assume we can remain in control. I fear we will pay the price for being so ignorant—sooner rather than later.

 
     
     
     
     

     
     
    I CAN’T COMPREHEND WHAT I’M SEEING—DAVID, MARI, BOTH PART OF MY WORLD LONG BEFORE I REMEMBER THEM, FROM AN UNFAMILIAR CHILDHOOD AND A FORGOTTEN LIFE . Josh never told me, even when I cried after David left.
    Why?
    “Mari and David are in the picture with us.” My eyes are fixated on Josh now. “One big happy family. Not possible, right? I couldn’t have forgotten them, could I?” He remains silent. “Josh?”
    He swallows hard, still refusing to acknowledge me.
    “Tell me the truth, Josh. When was this picture taken? Where?”
    Josh releases a ragged breath. “I’m not sure.”
    “Then guess!”
    Something dangerous filters through the words and Josh finally turns. “Fine. Alright. I