Free Terminal Point by K.M. Ruiz Page B

their condition. Less than half the Strykers that were in Buffalo survived. Those that did had all gone through a tiny, discreet mindwipe performed by Jael herself, their memories of seeing Lucas Serca and his siblings on the field erased. The Sercas weren’t supposed to be anything other than human, and the high-ranking officers of the Strykers Syndicate were obligated to keep that secret, even at the cost of their own lives.
    â€œThey’re recovering,” Jael said, voice mild. “From everything.”
    It was enough of an assurance, and the three parted ways. Jael should have gone to her office, where she had space to think that wasn’t full of people dying either beneath her hands or beneath her mind. Instead, she detoured into a lab that only had two approved biometric signatures for entry. This, Jael’s personal research space, had been used by many CMOs over generations. Jael stepped inside and approached the work area in the back, where an opaque, cylindrical machine sat, surrounded by monitors.
    It was securely attached to the countertop, with all readings on the tiny control screen positive and green. Jael checked the numbers, looking for anything out of the ordinary that could possibly harm the growing embryo housed inside the gestational unit. This was going to become a standard part of her routine, a deviation she never foresaw. Caring for Ciari’s unborn child could arguably be considered her most important job at the moment.
    She grabbed a stool, dragged it over, and reached for the datapad that lay abandoned near the gestational unit. The screen came alive at her touch, and Jael scrolled through the information. It was all preliminary lab work and reports that would need tremendous fleshing out. She wondered if it was worth it to even try. They had a month, maybe less, before everyone died, either by a kill switch, riots, or starvation. She wondered if this was how their ancestors felt during the Border Wars, that five-year span of nuclear hell that gave birth to their current lives; trapped in a situation that had no easy way out.
    Stay with us, Jael thought down the psi link that tied her to Ciari for medical purposes as she looked critically at the program decoding a genome. We still need you. Your baby will need you.

 
    EIGHT
    AUGUST 2379
INVERCARGILL, NEW ZEALAND
    New Zealand had tried to avoid the conflicts of old, but the shifting tides of war brought Australia’s destruction to it just the same. Now it was two long, barren islands, the iron and asphalt skeletons of its cities touched only by the wind and the sea. At the very southern point of the South Island, Invercargill was just a shell.
    The silence was shattered by what was left of a rusted metal door on an old river-port warehouse being torn off its hinges and telekinetically hurled down the street. All the broken warehouse windows meant the air inside was as cold and dry as it was outside.
    â€œThis way,” Lucas said.
    He ran past Jason, expecting the others to follow. Jason didn’t hesitate in following his lead. Behind them ran Quinton, Threnody cradled protectively in his arms. She was barely responsive, her comalike state the entire reason why they had fallen off course and detoured here. The last two hours had been hellish, with her intermittently suffering through seizures and Jason unable to stop it.
    â€œIs that what I think it is?” Jason asked. “How did you get it here?”
    â€œI don’t care so long as it works,” Quinton said in a tight voice as he skidded to a halt, eyes flickering across the biotank. “Tell me it works, Lucas.”
    â€œI would have risked a teleport to Antarctica that would ruin my own recovery if it didn’t,” Lucas said without looking up from the control terminals. Wires snaked across the floor to a portable generator. Tubes connected a small storage tank to the holding tank through a pressure system that whined loudly as