XY-n 14 : Armageddon

-Roger Daltrey, Under a Raging Moon, 1985, The Title Track.

I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End ... Surely I come quickly. – Jesus Christ, the final few words of the Book of Revelations, The Holy Bible, KJV.

Rick Abrams stared out of the window of his office in disbelief. He sipped at his coffee, watching the fat man making his way up the walk under the bright security lights. It was very late, near Midnight, in fact, but Abrams already knew that it was going to be one of those many sleepless nights that came with his job. Shaking his head, he punched a button on the intercom system to alert the reprogrammed Carebots. The last thing that he needed, with the new security measures in place, was for a well meaning but armed Carebot to shoot the Dealer.
“Admit visitor,” he ordered.
“Authorization overridden,” a slightly mechanical voice replied, “Visitor has issued security clearance Level 1 pass codes.”
Abrams nearly dropped his coffee.
“Clarify!” He ordered, not believing what he had just heard as the door to his office slid open to admit Acer the Dealer.
“Verified,” the Carebot replied.
“Of course I am!” The Dealer chuckled.
Abrams leaned back, trying to look casual. He closed the channel.
“Level 1? You’re moving up in the world,” he said calmly, “And keeping strange hours.”
Acer smiled at him. “I get around, and I always have.” Then he laughed. It was an evil sound. “And I know that YOU only have Level 2 clearance, Ricky ol’ boy.”
“Don’t call me ‘Ricky’”
The Dealer laughed again. “Oh come now, we go back, you and I. You need to see this, Abrams,” he said in low voice, reaching into his overcoat.
Abrams nodded and the lights dimmed. The lock of the door slid into place, and the Network terminal went dark. The shades to the window closed, and Abrams nodded again. Acer handed him an antique video recording camera with a small screen on the back.

“This poor old dear still works after all this time,” he advised, “And it’s untraceable. I recorded a chat I had with a certain, ah, employer of mine last night about some problems we’re having. We, no, I should say problems that YOU’RE having, Abrams. I did MY part long ago, about fourteen or fifteen Cycles ago, in fact. Watch this and think about what you’re going to do.”
“Your cheap theatrics don’t impress me, Dealer,” Abrams replied hotly, snatching the old video camera from his chubby hands.
“I told you it was about Xyn,” the Dealer retorted, “And I’m doing this as a favor to you for all the business we’ve done in the past. Professional courtesy, I guess. I’d say it was out of friendship, but since I don’t have any friends, I won’t. We’ve woven a tangled web here, Abrams, so just watch the bloody video!”

Confused, Abrams hit the PLAY button and watched the tiny screen of the non-Networked camera. The room was secure, of course, he knew, but that didn’t keep him from worrying. He watched and listened to the man in the black suit on the screen, occasionally glancing up at the Dealer with a lost look on his ashen face. When it was finished, Abrams played it again and Acer got up and made himself some coffee.

“Domestic?” he asked, sniffing the coffee and wrinkling his nose as the video played.
“Columbian,” Abrams replied in a dead voice, shaking his head. He was still staring at the tiny screen of the ancient video camera, unable to believe what he was seeing and hearing. He turned the volume up.
“Bad year for the Southern Continents,” he commented, sipping it and making a face.
”We need N-32 NOW!” The man in black was saying on the recording.

When it was finished, Rick Abrams gently laid the camera down and folded his arms on the desk. He sank his head down, resting it on them, and after a moment he began to sob. The Dealer said nothing, sipping at his coffee and allowing him the moment.

When Abrams finally looked up, Acer had finished his second cup of coffee and was reading some printouts. Rick’s eyes were red and his face colorless. He was trembling and shaking his head, and it felt like hours had passed.

“It explains a great deal of things,” the Dealer began. “All of those requests you made to clone little Xyn from those stolen blood samples, refused. Now you know why. Now you know why they wouldn’t let you buy him for your own. Did you even think about trying for another little XY, or maybe a Parted-out one? I could have cut you a great deal on Replacement Parts.”
Abrams slowly shook his head. “I never wanted another one. Only him. Did I fall asleep?”
“No. But I’m not surprised. You were just in shock, I think. That fellow on the video is enough to shock anyone. He’ll probably want me dead now, but then again, so do a lot of people.”
Abrams slowly got to his feet. “I’m glad they refused me my clone requests now. He wasn’t a waste of Resources after all. He wasn’t just ordinary, like they said. He was so much more! He IS so much more! And yes, I get the picture. You’re mysterious friend was practically screaming the word ‘clone’ there. You can’t clone a clone and expect it to live for long.”
“True,” the Dealer agreed, “We tried that once, just to see what would happen. Ghastly.”
“You would,” Abrams replied.
Acer scratched his head in thought. “You still don’t get it do you? That’s part of the problem. Even though the process was perfected long ago, there’s still a great deal of public concern over cloning. Oh, growing some Parts here and there in tanks is one thing, everyone is all for that, but when you start building custom-made little ones, they get all bitchy about it.”
“So Xyn’s a clone, who cares? He’s a healthy one, and he’s a real person, no matter what the extremists think! Why do people hate clones so much? You can’t even tell if someone’s a clone unless you do a deep DNA scan. Even our medical staff here doesn’t have the equipment to verify that, beyond reasonable doubt. You’d have thought that after the BioWars, that such nonsense would have died out with stupid little things like racism or sexual orientation. I can see the problem though. I wouldn’t want to be exposed as a clone. Not in this day and age.”
“You’re not getting the big picture here, Rick. Prejudice IS alive and well, still. It just went from race or sexual preference to Approved or not, and to clone or not. There’s a lot of anti-Government sentiment out there right now. They want reform, they want change! The News is full of it. Here, let me see that. Looks like I’m going to have to explain it to you after all.”

Acer rewound the old video and watched it, nodding. He paused it and handed it back to Abrams, who pressed the play button.
”… and if it takes a new Mutant Kadens to do it …”

The Dealer watched as Abrams face lost all expression. “You don’t mean …” he gasped in shock, “But, but that was so long ago! They’re willing to go that far?”
The fat man nodded.

“They already did. Yes, Rick, our young Xyn IS a clone. And not just any old clone. He’s Kadens the Unifier reborn, right down to the last strands of adenine and cytosine.”

Abrams stopped pacing, almost as if he’d been slapped.

“Oh gods,” Abrams breathed, “I didn’t realize … he said that, on the video … but if Xyn is … if he’s really … then the original Unifier was … Kadens was really a …” Words, however, failed him.
Acer nodded gravely. “He is. I can assure you of that. That’s why they want him so badly. I want him. You want him. The Hunter wants him. And the Mutants HAVE him.”

Abrams shook his head, still trying to deny it. “You make it sound like Xyn is some sort of … the next …” He groped for a word, but held out his hands for lack of finding any.

“Messiah?” The Dealer offered.

There was a long silence as both men thought.

“I can’t bear it,” Abrams finally sighed, dropping back into his chair. “I’ve done this for years. I’ve seen little ones Parted out, mutilated, adopted, and even watched them die. I was always detached, until Xyn. I broke the rules, Acer. I bonded with him. I love him. Now he’s gone, out there somewhere, in a World that’s falling apart.”

“I see,” Acer replied. “I’m not surprised that you feel that way. It’s part of what he does, who he is. WHAT he is. Do you see why there were never any Parts requisitions from Xyn, then? Why he always had the very best Suits, the best food, and the best of care? Or why other little ones in his Ward got Parted out until there was nothing left of them while he remained intact?”
“I thought that it was my all doing,” Abrams replied, “I was trying to protect him.”
“We let you think that,” the Dealer replied. “We couldn’t have our Masterpiece being Parted out on us or taken home by someone, even you. He was – he IS – too important. Although looking back, maybe THAT would have been best.”
“You have some very powerful friends, you know,” Abrams snapped. “I think it’s time you told me everything.”
“I thought that that was what I was just doing,” the Dealer replied.
“ALL of it,” Abrams demanded, “Or you won’t walk out of here alive!”
Acer laughed. “You wouldn’t dare! I know you shot down a visitors’ craft coming in today. Nice new security measures for our modern World! Want to tell me about that one as well?”
Abrams face was growing red with anger. “I had nothing to do with that!”
“Of course not. I believe you. Someone did, though, and I know who and why. I’ll even tell you, my friend. Had that craft not been shot down by your new defenses here, you’d be entertaining the Hunter right now and not me.”

Abrams thought about it for a moment, but his mind kept wandering back to Xyn. He tried to imagine what he looked like, after being gone for so long. Certainly he would have grown. But all that Rick Abrams could remember was a little XY, not a young one, who wore a white Suit and had no hair and loved to cuddle, read stories; a little one who dreamed of simple little things like going outside or having a real home and family. “Tell me everything you know about this whole bloody mess, Dealer, or I’ll slit your fat throat. Or maybe worse. I know for a fact that one of my little XY’s here is a Mutant. I know what HE can do. Maybe I’ll just turn HIM loose on you.”

Acer made himself more coffee and sat back down with a heavy sigh. “You’re sure this room is secure?” he asked.
Abrams nodded.
“Want to sell him?”
“Out with it!” Abrams demanded, reaching into his desk drawer.
“Very well,” he began, “You deserve that much for being, if nothing else, an excellent supplier for me. That’s also a factor in the tale, but I’ll put it in a nutshell. As a Dealer, I have a lot of contacts. Hunters and even plain old Unapproveds bring me little ones to sell off for them. I pay well, because I can. I like to deal in XY’s, there’s more profit in it. I usually geld them and sell them off as slaves, and then resell the XY-Parts. There’s a HUGE market for those, but then again you already know that. There’s a huge market for Parts of all kinds, but the Defects in XY-Approveds are getting worse and worse with time.”

Acer took a long drink and crossed his legs as he got comfortable. It was not an attractive pose. “So,” he continued, “I was doing a fine business when one night an Adult in a black suit shows up at the Club that I run below my REAL shop. He slipped the guard a very impressive chunk of change to see me, and when he left … well … let’s just say I had made a new connection. He left me with a tiny Cryo-container of cellular matter, a very small amount. There were directions on what kind of XX to find to impregnate with it, and certain chemicals to inject her with before and after conception. There were also orders on where to bring her when she was due, in fact, right at the onset of labor! They were really cutting it close!

“So I find this XX, and I do the deed. I pay her off, and of course she’s very willing to have a little one. I didn’t bother to tell her, in fact, I wasn’t totally sure, but I’m not stupid. I’d dabbled in the cloning market before, and I know Repli-Xk-4 when I smell it. The cellular matter to impregnate her with just reeked of it. Stout one, I have to say. She called me up one night near term, a bit early, and said that it was time. I picked her up, brought her to the Club, and damned if the same man in the black suit wasn’t there with some of his bullyboys waiting for us! We then delivered her of a bouncing baby XY.”

The Dealer paused. Abrams waited patiently, his anger ebbing as he thought about it. He just knew how this story was going to end, and who the baby had really been.

“What happened next,” Acer continued, “Shocked even me. I was just getting the little tyke all cleaned up when one of the goons comes over and injects him with something. He screamed like the dickens, and then he just stopped and opened his eyes. It was almost as if he knew what were going on. His little eyebrows rose up, then his eyes just went blank. I turned him away then, because I saw one of them pulling out another hypo. He injected her, Abrams, and she was dead before the spray finished hissing! Then her body sort of began to shrink up, and minutes later, there was just an empty dress full of dust on my table and no sign of her! Made my blood freeze, I can tell you. The next thing I know, they’re scanning the baby and taking blood and injecting him with something else. They gave me several containers of special food for him, and I was instructed to keep him for one week. If he lived, I was to bring him here and leave him on your doorstep. And of course, I was paid again. I think you know the rest of the story.”

Rick Abrams nodded and leaned back in his chair. “You left the infant Xyn on my doorstep and somehow erased the memory of the Carebot who found him there. I suppose they gave you something to do that with, too?”
The Dealer nodded. “Simple little toy. From there on out, I was out the loop. Oh, they called me now and then, before they started spying on you. They also like to buy information, of which I have plenty. You’ve been monitored, Rick, ol’ boy, I hate to say. I’ve had visits and progress reports, and I always let my employers know how little Xyn was doing as he grew up in here. They’re very impressed with you, which also explains your fast rise in the Facility business. I think you’ve got a job promotion coming, as well. The World’s falling apart, as you said.”

“I know,” Abrams answered in a dull tone, “The World’s falling apart and the Savior has just left town. They built a boy to save us all AGAIN, and I lost him. I think I’m going to be sick.”
Acer smiled at him. “’Boy.’ There’s a word you don’t hear too often anymore. But yet, Xyn IS a boy, and they’re very interested in that. You’ll remember our friend in black who said that the hereditary line of the Unifier is dying out due to Defects. It also explains the original rise of the first Kadens, Rick. Think about it. We know that our young Xyn was a Psion Mutant.”

Abram’s jaw dropped.

Acer laughed. “Oh come now! Don’t tell me you thought that you’d kept THAT a secret? They knew, Rick, they WANTED a Mutant! In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if they KNEW how to make Mutants intentionally! One shot of this, a little shot of that, a germ here, a virus there, the body fights back, a few drugs, a bit of genetic manipulation … and what if – just suppose – what IF the original Kadens was a Mutant? One of the first? The man who saved the World from the BioGenic Wars, the first Mutant?”

“Go on,” Abrams replied, not following his thinking.

“The World hates Mutants. They have Hunters bringing them in! They sterilize them; they don’t allow Upgrades for them. They make them live in the Old Cities, or they Exterminate them. Life lasts a LONG time for Approveds, with Maintenance, but it only lasts thirty Cycles or so for a Mutant. How many Approved Mutants do YOU know? I don’t know of any, except for maybe ONE. Most of the time, they end up in MY workshop and are sold as slaves. I don’t know if that’s worse, death or slavery – especially for the XY’s who come in the door in one piece and go out as e-XY’s.

“Anyway, what if the Authority Itself, under Kadens and his Descendents in Power, knew this? Everyone loved Kadens, he just took over! No one resisted him; he was so sensible and likeable. Here he comes, and he saves the World! He puts it all back together, and here we are now. But that was a while back. If they knew about Mutants then, they wouldn’t want a whole crop of them running around loose, now, would they? That might be seen as a threat to their own power. So the Authority rounds them all up while the Approveds live out life in Kadens’ dream Society?”

Abrams nodded. “It makes sense. They probably didn’t foresee all of this, where it all led. I’d imagine they figured that they’d eliminate the families carrying Mutations and Exterminate the strays afterwards. But the Mutants kept increasing in numbers after the BioWars were finally finished. Lots of odd things happening back then. Too many people couldn’t keep up, and the class split just got worse and worse. Those who didn’t want to live the life that Kadens planned for them were left behind, and became Unapproveds. So they tried to make a new Kadens to fix it all again.”

“They only did that after, as they say, Plan A failed them.”

“What?!” Abrams exclaimed, “You mean that building Xyn from the leftovers of Kadens the Unifier was a fallback plan?”

Acer nodded. “Some time ago, I noticed a very strange customer. It was almost before your time, but not quite. His name was Duncan … Alfred Duncan. He started buying a lot of Parts – Bio and Cyber both. They were all for a little XY, his son, he claimed. I had no clue at the time, but the man had the money, Rick. Finally, he comes to me one night and asks if I know anyone willing to take some chances. I asked him why, and he showed me some video of his little XY. Most pathetic thing you’ve ever seen,” the Dealer shuddered.

Abrams was surprised. Nothing bothered Acer.

“So I set him up with a rather brilliant fellow who was bothering me about making some deals. I worked with him for a long time, taking little XY’s in trade from him. He wanted hardware, and I got it for him. It was equitable trade, and HE took a look at little Duncan-2 for me. This Alfred fellow, witty University type – hate those, you know – brought the poor thing in and this other customer, what was his name?”
“I can’t believe this,” Abrams interrupted. “How does this relate to me, or Xyn? Or me getting him back safely?”
“I’m getting there,” Acer grumbled. “Make us some more of that nasty coffee, for gods’ sake, so I can think! I missed dinner you know.”
“You’ll live,” Abrams retorted, filling the pot with water and starting it.
“His name …” the Dealer thought. Then finally, it came to him.

“Kel!” He exclaimed, snapping his fingers, “Frightening fellow, Approved, University educated, had a ghastly cybernetic eye, too. Unforgettable. So this Kel fellow works on little Duncan-2 for a bit. I couldn’t watch, Rick. It was hideous. There comes a time when you just have to let them go. You reach a point where Upgrading and Maintenance simply can’t fix them anymore. Poor little Duncan-2 was more machine than human. It made me sick. This Kel had neither morals nor ethics. He was so driven, and frankly, I didn’t understand it. I’d have let the poor little XY go with some peace, but Kel just kept working on him, and with his father’s approval at that! I never found out what he was up to, though. It just escapes me, and not much does that.”

“You?” Abrams asked in wonder, “Shocked? YOU, feeling sorry for a little one?”
“I’m not all bad,” the Dealer replied in mock innocence. Then his fat face darkened. “Kel crossed lines that were never meant to be crossed, Rick. He and the father, Alfred, both of them! There were huge payoffs: merchandise, money, you name it. Then they both vanished without a trace after some huge crisis at the University. Then the man in the black suit showed up in my office with his offers. It’s very strange. He always seemed to know when to come, and little Xyn just hated him. Cried and cried until he left. Makes me wonder.”

“Him again?” Abrams observed calmly, pouring more coffee and passing the fat man a cup.
Acer nodded. “Thanks. Where was I? Oh, yes. The fellow in the black suit, the one with the tools and blueprints to create our Xyn, informs me that they were trying to build a new Kadens that way. It seems that this Alfred, an operative of theirs who spied on the Upper Class Approveds, was working with his University connections to try and design the ultimate, the PEFECT Leader who would solve all of Society’s problems. The problems always seem to begin with the bored wealthy class of Approveds.”

Acer paused and sipped his coffee.

“Well?!” Abrams demanded, “What happened to this little Cyber-Warrior they were building to take over the World?”
Acer shrugged. “He died.”
“That’s it?”
Acer nodded. “His body couldn’t take what they were doing to it, trying to rewire his DNA and the constant Implants. Just up and died one night. I assume they Recycled him, but I never saw him again. By then, Kel was long gone with his payoffs too. I didn’t know whatever became of him, but last I heard, he was in the Old City collecting Mutants. Now this is where it gets sticky, Ricky ol’ boy. Brace yourself.”

Abrams nodded. “Nothing you could say would surprise me now,” he commented.
“Don’t be so sure. Remember, I’m batting for several teams here. I’m playing so many different games that I sometimes pay off the wrong person on the wrong day and buy the wrong goods! It’s a mess! Several Cycles later, though, this Kel calls me up. He’s on some untraceable communications channel, and this was about the time that the Comm-Tell satellite system went to hell. I think we can safely blame that one on him, too. But he gives me this story that he’s going to bring me a Mutant, a little XY. Claims that he’s going to be a real prize, like nothing I’ve ever seen before and do I have the means to hold him?”
“What did he want that time?” Abrams asked.
“He wanted more money, more hardware. Then Transport ships began to go missing. We’ve lost what, ten of them now? Three or four in the East and six or seven in the West? And all of them going down in the Ruins? What the hell is in the Ruins? Everything dies in there, right?”
“Except for Mutants, an occasional lucky rat, and a very few hardy Approveds with a LOT of help,” Abrams gasped, snapping his fingers. Then he looked down at the floor. “Xyn’s in there,” he whispered.
“My point exactly,” the Dealer replied, “Xyn is a Mutant. Kel was collecting Mutants. AND he was a genius in Cybernetics and from what I saw of little Duncan-2, Bioengineering as well. He claims that he’s going to bring me a prize, so I get ready. I never heard from him again. But why all the Mutants?”

“I don’t get it,” Abrams replied, “I’ve been too busy with the Hunter and my job and I worry about Xyn since he’s missing in the Ruins and … gods, NO!” He screamed.

The Dealer nodded gravely. “I got his call after your big impossible fire. Let’s suppose Kel had a Pyro Mutant, rare of course, in his Gang. Your Facility burnt, Xyn comes up missing, and Kel calls me - promising me the moon, so to say. Then you get in on the act and send THE Hunter out after Xyn. It all fits. Then I get this call the other night from my friend who likes black clothes.”

Abrams was shaking in rage. He threw his coffee mug across the room, and it shattered upon impact. “If he were alive, I’d kill him!” He roared, looking for something else to break.
“Excuse me, but how do we know Kel’s dead?” Acer asked sweetly.
“Because someone named Jayk killed him,” Abrams replied hotly, “The Hunter mentioned it in his last communication, and he had to have told you, too. He caught a Runaway slave instead of Xyn, and legally, he had to take him back to his Master. Someone named Wilson in Far South. Then he vanished.”
“Gods, man, did you say ‘Wilson’? Ev Wilson?”
“I think that was the name, yes, why?” Abrams asked in confusion.
Acer was laughing. “I love it when a plan comes together, OR unravels!” he chortled, spilling some of the coffee. “And yes, I knew it already. My, my, but this is a grand mess!”
“I should have known that YOU would be on the sly with The Hunter,” Abrams groaned.
“Oh it’s too good! You see, The Hunter showed me this Jayk, the Mutant who killed Kel. He’s a Slow-Beast Mutant.”
Abrams whistled. “Impossible! They haven’t documented a real Beast Mutant in over 300 Cycles!”
“Yes, he is! And absolutely beautiful, I might add! An e-XY, looks 14 or 15 Cycles at the most, and very old! Smooth cut, too. Dark skin, fangs, pointy ears. The works! Worth a screaming fortune, I might add. And The Hunter mentioned …”
“… that Jayk found Xyn in the Ruins and the Gangs left him behind when he went Beast on them and killed your Kel friend,” Abrams concluded for him.
Acer nodded in agreement. “I see you’ve gotten some of the story.”
“More than I wanted to know,” Abrams replied, his anger rising. “If that Beast harmed Xyn …”
“He didn’t harm him, Rick. He loves him. And Xyn loves him in return. In fact, that’s why it’s all so grand!”
“What so damn grand about it?”
“Jayk is owned by Ev Wilson, the man whom Alfred Duncan was working for.”
Abrams looked confused again. “Working for him?”
“Butler, in fact. A spy. Alfred Duncan was, recall, an operative who was working on spying on the Upper Classes, which Wilson is the very definition of! The Hunter took Jayk back to Wilson, and he met Duncan. Then Duncan, who was obviously hiding in obscurity with his little Leader-to-be, tried to kill the Hunter. Of course, the little fellow was already dead by now, but Alfred Duncan was still there after all those years of hiding. And now I know why!”

“Why?”
“Because I told them that the Hunter had gone soft and could not be trusted. Operatives are everywhere, Rick. They obviously made big news of The Hunter. He was in love with that Jayk character he brought in. He so much as told me. If THAT leaked out, well …”
Abrams sighed and shook his head. “That craft he lost cost me a fortune,” he moaned. “You’re going to get killed at this, Acer.”
The fat man laughed again. “But don’t you see? It’s just a stroke of Divine intervention, or random chance – take your pick – that Jayk, who loves Xyn, wound up with Wilson. The Hunter might have started to catch on, and now there’s dissention in the ranks! Operatives knocking off Hunters? It’ perfect!” The Dealer laughed again until he was wheezing. When he settled down, he went on.
“Poor old Wilson. He’s in for a shock! He’s got Jayk back, and from what the Hunter told me and what I can piece together, he’s the perfect bait!”

Abrams face paled again. He nodded slowly. “If what you say is true, then Xyn will go after Jayk, who is still with Wilson. Alfred, the spy, might have known this, so he stayed. Enter the Hunter, and Alfred tries to kill him on orders from the Government. Alfred wanted Xyn, so did the Hunter, because I did. With Alfred being there, the Authority wouldn’t be far behind. In fact, they might be watching Wilson’s place because of the Hunter’s death! Oh my, Wilson WILL get a shock if Xyn comes back for Jayk and the others know about it!”
Acer nodded. “Very good, Rick! You can expect Xyn to come for Jayk, and the Authority to come after Xyn. Maybe even a small army from the Authority, with Government aid. But the Hunter isn’t dead. He called me. So he might yet crash their party as well. Any way you call it, Wilson’s in for a bad day pretty soon!”
“Gods,” Abrams breathed.
“I mentioned that earlier. The Hunter WAS coming here, to see you. Weren’t you paying attention?”
“The defenses weren’t my call,” Abrams explained. “There were three others in that craft coming in. I thought it was a horrible accident!”
“So someone in your seniority shot down the Hunter. They knew that he was coming back, and without Xyn. Perhaps they also know that HE wants Xyn too.”
“He’s working for me,” Abrams objected.
“Don’t delude yourself, Rick. Everyone wants Xyn, for various reasons. Do you really think that the Hunter would have given him back to YOU?”

Abrams’ eyes went wide again. “But what would he do with him?”
Acer shrugged. “I know far too much as it is, Rick. I don’t expect to live much longer because of that fact. I just wanted you to know is all. My guess, and it’s only a guess, is that he’d take Xyn back to Jayk, or run off somewhere with the both of them and live happily ever after.”
“How do you know?”
“Because that’s what I’d do,” Acer replied in a whisper.

Then the Dealer looked away at the closed window. His face was strange, as if he were looking through the shades and off into the distance as morning approached. They had talked almost all night.

“What have I done?” he asked of Abrams, as if seeking absolution. “I helped them to create Xyn, their Savior, as it were. I played a hand in the attempt to build a new Leader with little Duncan-2, the Defective little son of an operative for the Government. I’ve bought and sold and cut hundreds of little Unapproved XY’s. It’s all come full circle, Rick. Even Xyn came full circle, since Kel almost got him, and would have, were it not for this Jayk character whom Xyn has fallen in love with! It’s all so amazing! It almost makes me melancholy to think about it, after all I’ve done.”
“And NOW you get maudlin on me?” Abrams wondered.
The Dealer laughed. Somewhere outside came a low, muffled sound.
“Oh, they won’t get Xyn,” the Dealer mused. “They’ll never get him.”
“I’m glad YOU think so,” Abrams disagreed, “Since it seems that everyone wants him so badly. If the Government is working with the Authority to watch Wilson’s place, if somehow they know that Xyn is coming for Jayk, then all hell is going to break loose. What chance does a young one like him stand against an army?”

Acer laughed again. “My last gift to you,” he said softly, sipping at the last of the coffee. “This is really terrible you know. Anyway, in my last talk with the Hunter, he said that someone had made an attempt on Xyn’s life. Of course, they weren’t really trying to kill him, just subdue him. The Government is desperate to get him back, and they don’t want him harmed. I suppose they can’t make another Xyn, or another Kadens – if you will. I really think that somehow, Xyn’s the last of the line, and he’s a clone. He can’t be copied, you know. Somehow they got spies into the Ruins and they almost had Xyn. It seems that some of his Mutant friends in there destroyed them. For the last several weeks, a small voice has been whispering at me in my dreams. It isn’t Xyn, but it’s someone very close to him. Xyn has changed, Rick. He’s growing up. You hid his status as a Psion Mutant from everyone who didn’t already know, but that’s what they want. They want Xyn Psion, the new Kadens, at any cost.
“They’re going to be coming for him, but what they don’t know is that Xyn is coming for them as well. He’s not the sweet little XY you once snuggled on your lap, my friend. He’s a warrior now, driven by grief and loss and anger. He’s also very, very powerful. The Hunter is a Psion Mutant too, the best so far.”

Again, the Dealer paused.

Somewhere, there was another muffled explosion. The coffee mug on the table rattled.

“The Government took The Hunter when he was quite young. They made him what he is today – a childless and bitter man from a loving family that he never sees. He was to be their ultimate weapon, to aid the new Kadens. Once they got him built, that is. A Psionic bodyguard who’d love the little Psionic Leader as his own son. Perfect fit, if you think about it. From his background, the Hunter would eventually want a little one of his own, and Xyn – an Orphan - would need protection. But now the Mutants have Xyn, and all of their hopes. They won’t get him back, though, because Xyn’s better than the Hunter. The Hunter knows this, and he doesn’t want to catch Xyn. Or in the very least, not give him back if he does.” Then the Dealer laughed. ‘Ironic. They were made for each other, or so they tell me, and now he’s out looking for him on YOUR orders.”

Suddenly the building shook. Both men jumped. Abrams triggered the intercom, but it was dead. The lights dimmed and buzzed, then went out. Small emergency lights came on, but Acer didn’t move.
“Don’t worry,” he said, waving a hand nonchalantly as Abrams tried to ascertain what was going on, “He won’t harm him. I think the Hunter’s tired of the game. Hell, we all are. He’ll probably kill me, I’d imagine, since he thinks the worst of me now. I’m a bad man, Rick. I admit that I tried to play both sides, and in the end, the World may suffer for it. It all depends on what kind of Adult, no, what kind of MAN our young Xyn grows up to be.”

Abrams was still fighting with the communications systems and the Network terminal when the door to the room blew out. There was a smell of burning metal and wiring drifting in from the hallway, and a little XY stepped through the door. He had flaming red hair and freckles across his nose. His tunic was scorched and ragged, and he was dirty and smelled of smoke. There were tracks down his cheeks in the grime on his face, made by his tears as he strode into the room. He glared at Abrams, who shoved the small video recorder into his pocket and reached into his desk drawer.
“Where’s my brother?” he demanded in a dangerous tone.
“H2?” Abrams blinked, taking a moment to recognize him, “What are YOU doing here? Where are your parents? How did you get in?”
“He used this for a fucking key!” The Hunter bellowed, firing his blaster at Abrams. The desk exploded into a thousand pieces, and Abrams jumped back.
“You shot down our craft!” Edward IV, formerly known as H2, accused. “We were comin’ to get ‘R’ and buy him and you shot at us! You killed my mom and dad!”
“I did no such thing!” Abrams choked, waving at the smoke.
“Hello, Hunter,” Acer chimed in, not bothering to get up, “I’ve been expecting you.”
“You!’ The Hunter growled, aiming his weapon at the fat man who still sipped at his coffee.
“Oh, yes, shoot me. I deserve it. I was just telling ol’ Ricky here how bad of a man I’ve been, and all about our young Xyn too. I hope you find him first, Hunter. Find him and take him away before the Government does. You know where he is, and where he’s going. You really need to get there first.”
“I don’t want your lies, Dealer. I’ve had enough of you. You’re not getting Xyn, I am. And YOU,” he demanded of Abrams, “I want the little XY called ‘R’, now! Eddie’s very upset, since he just got a new family and had to watch them die earlier today. You and I and the little ones are leaving then. I’m sure you’ve got a suitable craft here somewhere, and I want it! As for the Dealer, well … He’s cut his last little XY.”

And with that, the Hunter leveled his weapon at the fat man. Acer the Dealer met his gaze and nodded. Then he looked at the tear-streaked face of Edward IV. “Rick, when and if you ever get to a WorldBank, mention my name and use the password ‘Xyn-32’. In some small way, perhaps I can pay for my sins after all. Have a Maintenance, on me.”

The Hunter squeezed the trigger, and the fat man instantly exploded into thousands of bloody, smoking bits and pieces of quivering flesh. A smell of scorched meat filled the room. Abrams turned his head and became violently ill.

“Rat me out, you son of a bitch,” The Hunter grumbled.
“Oh gods,” Abrams mumbled, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
“Good to see you again, Abrams,” The Hunter commented. “Although your welcoming party left much to be desired. We need to have words. Now.”
“I had nothing to do with it, Hunter. You, as a Psion, should KNOW what I want! Damn you! We DO need to talk, and fast!”
“Are you gonna shoot him too?” Edward IV asked in a sick tone, staring at the smoking remains of the Dealer with a great deal of interest.

The Hunter focused his Psi upon Abrams then, and shook his head. “No, he’s not lying. He had nothing to do with the attack on us. He’s scared, and he’s in shock. He wants Xyn, but not for any bad reasons,” he explained to the little one. “Besides, there’s some thing stored on some chips I’ve got that he might be able to play back for me.”

Abrams went to the little one slowly, picked him up and hugged him. “I’m so sorry, H2 … I mean, Edward. Some bad people think that the Facility needs protection now, and they don’t like the Hunter anymore. They think he’s doing something bad, or that someone else out there in this mad World will. Tell you what, let’s go get ‘R’, secure the rest of the little ones, and we’ll go. How’s that?”
Edward wiped his eyes and nodded. “We had to shoot up a couple of ‘bots on the way in, though,” he explained, “They didn’t like us.”
“I’ll fix it, I hope,” Abrams explained. He then began to tell the Hunter what Acer had told him. He held up the old video camera, small and lightweight. By the time they had reached a functioning Terminal, the Hunter was shaking his head in disbelief and staring at the video of the man in the black suit.

Abrams entered a few commands, as was relieved that they still worked. He ran a reboot sequence for all remaining Carebots on duty, and summoned one to bring ‘R’ and an extra Suit to something called “Exit Zero.”
“You did say ‘R’, correct?” Abrams asked.
Edward nodded gravely. “We were gonna buy him,” he said sadly.
Abrams smiled and tussled his thick, red hair. “I always wondered what color your hair would be,” he mused, “And it just had to be ‘R’, didn’t it? I’m so glad. If they found him here, found out, they’d kill him, too.”
“Why?” Edward asked innocently.
“Because he’s a Mutant,” Abrams replied gravely.
“What’s a Mutant?” Edward asked.
“Someone who can do things with his Mind or body that not everyone can,” Abrams replied.
“You mean like N was?”
Abrams jaw dropped.
“WE all knew it,” Edward replied smugly. He even showed me how to do it.
“That’s enough, Eddie. I can’t believe that Acer is responsible for all of this,” The Hunter said as they made their way down the halls and took the stairs downwards and through more halls. Not all of the lights were working again, and Edward clung to Abrams’ hand tightly. In moments, they were lost and simply following Abrams.
A Carebot was waiting with the little one called ‘R’ and a new Suit when the finally arrived at the hidden exit.

“This is highly unusual, Director,” the robot stated, holding ‘R’s’ hand. The little XY was bald, and his skin was darker than Edward’s. They smiled at each other. ‘R’ had a black patch over where his right eye should have been, and his tight white Suit gave evidence to the fact that he was missing his XY-Parts. He started forward, but the robot didn’t release him.
“We’ll be going now,” Abrams told it, “Thank you.”
“I’m afraid I can’t allow that,” said a strange voice on the intercom system. “This Facility is now under lockdown, and you, Director Abrams, are under arrest for aiding and abetting a know Mutant sympathizer. Surrender to the Carebots and return the Inmate R-32 to us and no one will be harmed.”
“Liar,” Abrams disagreed.
“Oh, I’m scared now,” the Hunter replied sarcastically. “You people can’t stop me, you know.”

The voice on the speakers paused. “We don’t want to have to try. We need you. We want you. We need N-32 and you can help us. AND him.”

The Hunter smiled and took careful aim with his blaster, but ‘R’ shook his bald head. He glared at the Carebot holding him, and it suddenly exploded into thousands of fragments. ‘R’ ran towards Abrams, but the Hunter caught him up. “Hang on,” he advised, and blasted the door into nothingness. Dim light poured into the smoky hallway.

Cool! The Hunter heard Edward send to ‘R’, who giggled.

“We’re losing the darkness,” the Hunter stated in disgust.
Abrams stopped only long enough to pick up the spare Suit that the Carebot had brought with ‘R’. Once outside, he sat Edward down and roughly pulled off his ragged tunic and dirty little shoes. He shook the Suit out, and it enveloped the naked and intact little XY instantly, hissing and beeping as it adapted and interfaced to his Approved and Upgraded body and began to clean and supplement him. The hood came up and went back down, the gloves extended over his dirty hands, and the facemask closed for a second before popping back open. It shifted from white to blue and back in a second. Abrams nodded in satisfaction and scooped him up again. They ran towards the fence as alarms began to sound.

“I think someone is on to us,” The Hunter commented, “Where is that guy, anyway?”
“I have no idea. He can’t be in the building, or I’d know about it,” Abrams muttered, pointing to a small outbuilding by the fence. “In there. Technically, that shed’s not here. I keep a few things in there.”
“I like that idea,” The Hunter agreed, “And you’re right, there’s no one else in there but for the Inmates and the robots,” he stated, his Psi slipping over the frightened little Minds therein.

When they entered the shed, Abrams flipped a switch. A light came on, revealing only an empty room. Abrams kicked at a rug, revealing a trap door. He opened it, and they headed down short flight of stairs. At the bottom was a room just large enough to hold a small personal craft. “We’ll have to hold the little ones on our laps,” he observed, “It’s small, but fast.”
They climbed in and fired up the engines. “It’s been on standby since I heard you’d been ‘killed’,” Abrams explained. “I guess I never really believed it. Things are changing. The News, the Network, the rumors - gods, it’s all so insane! What the hell is going on out in the real World?”
The Hunter shook his head as the craft powered up. “I wish I knew. Transports going missing all over, strange Breakdowns on the Networks, Unapproveds vanishing, workers not showing up. Whole neighborhoods unaccounted for in the Old Cities. It seems that the whole World’s on the verge of going insane, and if what Acer told you and what’s on that video is true, then I doubt if even Kadens or Xyn could save us,” he replied.
“Same difference,” Abrams replied glumly. He then flipped another switch and the entire shed above them slid sideways. They looked up and saw stars, and ‘R’ gasped.
“Wow!” He breathed, and Edward reached over from Abrams’ lap to hold his hand as the craft rose into the sky and flattened them all against their seats as it accelerated into the lightening sky.

The Hunter stared at the fading stars racing to meet him as a small voice filled his Mind. Abrams looked around, as did the little ones. It was apparent that they, somehow, could hear it as well.

You’re coming? It asked in surprise.
I am. Are you? The Hunter replied.
Edward smiled. “That’s ‘N’!” He piped up.
Abrams eyes filled with tears, as he looked this way and that. “How can it be?” he asked in confusion, “He’s so far away! And I can hear him as if he were RIGHT here!”
“Sounds like it to me, too,” ‘R’ agreed.
The Hunter shook his head. “I told you he was good. And he’s got friends. They’re making ready for something, although they won’t tell me what. We should head that way.”
Abrams nodded gravely. “We can run until morning, then we’ll have to think up how to refuel this thing.”
The Hunter nodded. “Leave that to me,” he replied in an ominous tone. “I don’t think anyone’s going to insist that I pay for the fuel I take.”
Then another voice spoke up in all of their Minds, accompanied by the sounds of a horrendous explosion.

The first seal has been broken, Tym’s Mind whispered to them, Come quickly.

Shar watched from her control room, her Psi painting the picture of the small army that was boarding the stolen craft. They were all climbing aboard: Adam the Bomber, whose Mind could knock down buildings at will. Chriss the Pyro, who could set fire to stone if need be. Kefe the Nightstalker, who could see in the dark and who was agile and tireless. Tym, the little one with the unnamed Mutant ability that was so intriguing – and so powerful. And finally her own son Dan, the Malfunctioning Approved offspring of her brief union with the treacherous Kel. Dan, who had nearly died from Defects and had been saved by Xyn’s Suit.

And standing there with his lithe body armored, Psi running, and weapon drawn was Xyn.

Her Psi lingered upon him for a moment, standing there looking so different than he had when he had arrived in the Ruins with Jayk. Instead of a white Facility Suit, he was dressed in black chameleonic body armor. And instead of a bald shining head, he had donned a visored helmet.

She sighed as she watched them all checking over the craft. Her Psi then focused on her son, and she could hear his Mind even though he himself was not a Psion Mutant. Dan noticed her.
Mom, geez, I’m gonna be OK. I got Xyn. It’ll be fine!
Again, she smiled and gently withdrew her Mind to watch them all at once. Her son was not a Psion, as she was, but he was something more. Since his healing, Dan had demonstrated remarkable physical abilities, the least of which was his ability to run. She had never seen anyone, not even a Nightstalker, move so fast. And Dan had been training under Kefe as well. Suddenly, she realized how very proud of them all she was, and her worries eased a bit.

Bring them back to me, Xyn Psion, she sent, All of them. I trust that you will. Know that I am with you, as long as I can be.

I will, Xyn replied, holstering his blaster. His Psi was running at levels he’d never know before his castration. The theory of male hormones corrupting XY Mutants’ abilities was obviously true, and not just for a select few. With the testosterone all but gone from his pure Bio body, Xyn not only looked like, but also WAS a different person. Shar regarded him, secretly of course, as even a new breed of Mutant. It was a feeling that she had for Chriss as well, and the more she pondered it, for them all. She was watching a craft full of what could very well be the hopes and dreams of all Mutants and Unapproveds the World over. Young XY’s who had, and who would, sacrifice anything for one another. The Next Generation of Mutants, more powerful than she’d ever known.

Perhaps even, she wondered, more powerful than the very World had ever known.

She opened her eyes and shook back her lustrous black hair. Her slender hands punched a few buttons, and the thin blue beam of light that ran from her right eye to the Network Interface console flickered. She smiled.
“Computer,” she said softly, “Prepare for Armageddon.”
“Engaging Kel-sequences now,” a child-like and metallic voice replied.
“Thank you, Duncan-2,” Shar replied in a sick tone as a vision of Kel came to her Mind. For a moment, but only a moment, she missed him.
The Comm-Tell System is going offline, she sent to Xyn, Program ‘Kel-7’ has been unleashed and Duncan-2 is online. You have twelve hours at the most before they are able to debug it and restore SOME tracking abilities. We should, however, be able to maintain OUR satellite. The virus and Duncan will play havoc on the systems, but it is not foolproof. Good luck, my sons. I shall alert the Others.
What others? Xyn asked, puzzled, “And who’s Duncan?”
But Shar did not answer him.

As they settled into the stolen craft and began to power it up, Xyn looked around at his friends. “Excuse me, I don’t mean to be a wet blanket here, but just HOW did this thing get in there and HOW do we get it back OUT?”
Chriss smiled at him, looking strange in his own body armor. “We brought it in a few pieces at a time while you were busy getting in shape and exploring old buildings. Some assembly was required. We get out like this …” he gestured to Adam.

Xyn could feel the anxiety coming from them all, but he could also feel Adam’s Mind building up. It was much like it had been in the Infirmary when he’d killed the Orderly, but this time it was much more powerful. Freed of the restraints upon his Mutant powers by male hormones, Adam the Bomber and e-XY was an almost unstoppable force of destruction. Xyn let his own Mind expand, feeling vast once again. He was just beginning to crack a smile when he heard a small voice in his Mind as his eyes began to fill with the dim morning light and fading stars of the dawn.

Wow! It seemed to gasp in awe, and Xyn realized that he was, even before Adam’s Mind blew out the entire ceiling and wall of the makeshift hanger bay, seeing the sky through the eyes of another.

You’re coming?
Are you?

About then, Adam’s Mind let loose and Xyn watched with his own eyes as most of the room simply disappeared with a thunderous explosion. As their craft shot through the dust and wreckage at maximum acceleration, he found himself pressed back against his seat and hardly able to breath. Through all of the excitement, however, he could clearly hear Tym’s voice and Mind as the strange little one spoke:

The first seal has been broken.

Excuse me? The Hunter inquired.
Just something I read to Tym the other night at bedtime, Xyn explained.
Some bedtime story, the Hunter replied.
Who’s the new kid? Tym asked.
That would have been Eddie. He and his little friend are both rather excited about being outside. I sort of appropriated them from Facility 32.

Xyn’s Mind shuddered at the mention of that number. He glanced over at Chriss, busy at the controls, as the Pyro and Adam showed Dan and Kefe how to fly the craft. Since Xyn and Tym had taken up residence in one of the back seats, no one was watching them. Xyn slid his visor up and wiped at his eyes. Tym didn’t look at him, but reached out a small hand to hold his. Is … is HE with you? Xyn asked tentatively, pulling his Mind back a bit and still in awe of how far he could reach with so little effort. I can see smoke and some damage to the building. I can feel … something bad … did you …

No, the Hunter replied, sensing his distress. And you can thank your little friend Tym for this one. I know I can’t reach you from here. The Carebots gave us some trouble. Seems someone reprogrammed them all. We destroyed several of them, and made a mess of the building, I’m afraid. This ‘R’ fellow is one of the Inmates, a Mutant as you can see. He’s a good friend of a little XY, H2 I think you knew him as, and he got me here from my long walk from Far South after my ‘death’. Anyway, the rest of the Inmates are fine, and I took these two with me. And yes, Xyn, Mr. Abrams is here with me. I killed the Dealer, not him.

Xyn breathed a sigh of relief, but at the same time he paused. For the first time – at least with his Psi up and running – his Mind had sampled and tasted murderous fury. The Hunter, whose Mind he was in tune with via Tym, was filled with it. It was not like the time in the Infirmary when Adam had killed those people. This time, thanks to his enhanced Psi, Xyn could actually FEEL the killing of the Dealer, fresh in the Hunter’s Mind, and he pondered it. He squeezed Tym’s hand, but the little one shook his pale head. “It’s not me,” he said aloud as well as with his Mind.

What?! the Hunter marveled.
It’s not Tym, Xyn replied, I think it’s all me. I’ve, uh, gone through some, uh, changes here and my Psi is, well, sort of different now.
I always knew you were good, the Hunter commended him.
Tym smiled, but said nothing more. However, Xyn could still feel the Hunter’s Mind and how he’d felt at killing the Dealer. He shivered.

I can accept that, he replied, although he knew that some part of him simply could not. Still, another part of him seethed with anger and relished in the thought of his enemies falling under the force of his Mind. He shook his head, clearing his Mind, and realized that his helmet was just a tiny bit too large. He looked over at Tym as the others, oblivious to their mental conversation, studied the craft’s controls. His Mind filled with images of being little again and of Mr. Rick.

I want to see him, Xyn sent softly, his eyes beginning to fill.
I planned on that, the Hunter replied. And he wants to see you as well. Hell, I want to see you, in person, for real! Where shall we meet?

Then Tym’s Mind overtook them all, and Xyn felt as if someone had thrown a blanket around them. “Someone might be watching, or listening,” the little one said aloud, “Someone looking for us. We need something different, from someone they might not know. They know about US, but …” Then he snapped his fingers and smiled.
Edward knows a good place to meet, Tym sent to them. Let him tell you verbally, Hunter. I already know, because YOU know where it is too. As soon as Xyn learns to fly this thing, we’ll meet you there!
Isn’t HE just the schemer? The Hunter ‘laughed’. Got it! See you there!

“What was that for?” Xyn asked, feeling the connections to the Hunter and the others break.
Tym shrugged. “There’s someone out there who knows about us and might be able to overhear our Psionic chats. If Edward, whom they probably don’t know about, and who isn’t a known Psion, tells the Hunter verbally, we can meet there safely. I hope. I don’t think anyone was listening in, but I still feel like there’s something wrong here. Like someone is here that shouldn’t be and I can’t nail him down.”
“And I have to learn to fly?”
Tym nodded. “Safer that way. You can shield your Mind better. And don’t tell the rest of them where we’re going.”
THAT got Chriss’ attention. He looked up from his pilot’s seat and turned his pale head slowly back to stare at them with a stunned look. “I don’t have time to teach you to fly,” he said in a perplexed tone. “We can only hit the rudiments. I’m lucky that I remember it after … after what they did to me and Adam, I mean.”
Then Adam turned to face them as well, and Xyn recalled the mental blocks that had been placed in their Minds and how painful it had been to remove them. It had been a long and hard road to recovery, but together, the Pyro and the Bomber had made it. Xyn smiled at his friends, and idea coming to him as his Mind began to work again.
“Sure you got time,” he smiled at Chriss, “Now Adam, trade me places, if you would.”

It was a bit of a tussle as Adam and Xyn traded places, stepping over Dan and Kefe in the process. On the way, the wind buffeted the small craft and Adam wound up in Kefe’s lap as Dan narrowly avoided Xyn landing upon him. They were all laughing by the time they’d all resettled. Then Chriss turned back to his controls.

“How do I teach you how to do this then?” He asked. “We only have so much time, you know.”
Xyn smiled at him. “Do you trust me, Chriss?”
The young Pyro nodded. “Of course I do,” he said softly.
“Then just open your Mind and let me watch you fly,” Xyn replied, laying a hand on his forearm. “All you have to do is think about it.”

From her Control room far below the Ruins, Shar’s Mind began to lose contact with them as they flew at alarming speeds beyond her Psi’s range. Her last glimpse of them was one of Xyn taking the controls, and of his Mind flowing into Chriss’.
She smiled.
“What’s wrong?” the small metallic voice asked.
“Nothing, Duncan,” Shar replied, shaking back her long, black hair.
“You always shake your hair when you’re worried,” Duncan replied, “You started doing it at University, you know.”
Then Shar shifted her thought via the Network link and a hidden panel on the wall in front of her slid away. Even though she knew what lay hidden behind that panel, she still shuddered as her eyes fell upon it. Kel’s last gift to the Outcasts, his last piece of genius, appeared before her and she gasped as she looked upon the central processor of the main computer that ran everything for them in the Ruins.

Floating in a small, aerated tank with thousands of cables and Network Interfaces was a small amount of Bio-Mass with several Approved Processor chips embedded in it. It was convoluted and almost round, and the lower stem of it which supported it in the tank was glowing with the same blue light that ran the connections of Approveds when they logged on to the Networks. A small screen on her panel lit up, adjusted its resolution and color, and then the smiling face of a little XY appeared on it.

“The Others out West report ready,” the small voice informed her. “The last arms ship has been secured and Comm-Tell is a mess.”
Shar nodded. “We will wait until we hear from Xyn and the others,” she sighed, “Or if we do not hear from them, then we will proceed as planned in twelve hours. How are you holding up, Duncan?”
The little face on the screen wrinkled its nose and blinked. “I’m fine, all things considered. I’ve got all the Networks pretty much confused,” it replied, “And the satellite systems are ALL toast. They don’t know if they’re coming or going, or what’s going to where or when!” it exulted. “I’ve made a bloody mess of the whole Information Superhighway with those programs Kel figured out for us! Hell, no one can even make a phone call right now!”
“You sound as if you’re having fun,” she replied sadly.
The little face nodded, smiling at her with perfect teeth. “Sure beats being dead,” he answered. “Lucky for us that last ship was a heavily armed Transport.”
“But are there enough of us, and are we well enough armed?” she lamented, “And must it be like this?”
Duncan’s virtual face blinked again and sneered. “They brought it upon themselves. Look at what they do to Unapproveds. Look at what they did to ME! If it weren’t for Kel, I’d have been Recycled by now. I was supposed to take over the World and straighten it out, you know. That’s what they were building me for. Well, that’s what I plan to do, with your help of course! They had their chance, and they didn’t listen. Now this is all that’s left. We can’t hold out in the Ruins – East or West – like this for much longer. We have to ACT!”

Shar nodded and sighed once again. The presence of her son was gone from her Mind, and she wondered at how strange it felt. She reviewed one final report of Authority actions that Duncan hacked for her, then stretched and stood up.

Well over 75% of the Unapproved workforce had not gone in for the past week, and fully 35% of them were listed as ‘missing’ or Runaway. Hunters and Authority both were at a loss to explain it, and the Government was taking steps. The story she read was very different than what ran on the public Network news. Obviously, the talking heads that delivered the News had been given a fine list of lies to talk about. The current estimate of Runaways in Old City alone was now at 65%, and Shar knew very well where ALL of them were. Martial Law was only a few days, perhaps only hours, away as the Society built by Kadens the Unifier began to shudder towards collapse.

It was getting on towards dark again when the two craft settled to Earth near an old and abandoned church in a remote rural area near Far South. The Hunter and his party had arrived somewhat before Xyn’s Gang, and were already setting up camp as they watched Xyn’s craft come in for a landing. The Hunter stared at it, feeling strange, and thinking of watching meteor showers as a little one with his family. He smiled as his Psi focused upon what he’d thought was a falling star as the small assault craft took shape before his eyes and settled to Earth. There were Minds in that craft, and he wondered at his own anxiety. Xyn’s in there, he mused.

Everyone was wary as they disembarked, Xyn’s Gang not sure if they could trust the Hunter and Abrams, and the adults not sure about the craft full of Outcasts. Tym’s plan, it seemed, had worked. All of them with Psionic Abilities kept their guards up, however, but no one seemed to sense anything amiss. The Hunter introduced everyone, since he knew them all well, thanks to Tym. It didn’t take Edward and ‘R’ long to make up with them, and Edward attached himself to Tym as ‘R’ fell in with Adam. They decided to prepare an evening meal, as all of them were tired from the flight, and then to grab a bit of rest before discussing their plans in depth. Only Xyn lingered at the back of his Gang, watching the exchange in silence with his visor down and his Psi guarded as the others worked to set up a camp.

Finally, Rick Abrams spoke up as they were setting out provisions.
“Where IS Xyn?” he asked no one in particular.
They could all hear the catch in his voice, but no one said anything. Then Abrams felt a familiar ‘tug’ at his Mind, and he looked up towards Xyn’s craft.

Standing before him in chameleonic and shimmering body armor stood a young one – or at least, the outline of one. He was about a head shorter than Abrams, and his hand was hovering above his blaster. As he stepped away from the craft, the armor seemed to coalesce into a solid form. He took a few steps towards the man who had raised him, then stopped. Very slowly, his other hand moved up to his mirrored visor and slid it up to reveal his face.
“Xyn!” Abrams breathed, as the others watched in silence.
He took a few anxious steps towards him, but Xyn didn’t move. Abrams stopped. Although not a Psion himself, he knew enough of Xyn’s recent life to realize that he wasn’t meeting the little one that he’d once known. The Dealer had been right all along.

Standing before him was not little Inmate N-32, nicknamed Xyn.
Abrams stood, motionless, gazing upon young Xyn Psion, Mutant Clone of the Unifier, Kadens.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice catching again. “I’ve waited, Xyn. I’ve wanted to … I wanted … it’s been so long!” Then he paused and shook his head, looking away.
Xyn didn’t move.
“But he told me. And I guess I understand. You’ve been through a lot, Xyn. I’m glad you’re all right, though. I guess I’m the last person you want to see now, if you know even half of the truth. I don’t blame you at all.”

Everyone turned away, a sense of decency and privacy in such a moment making them not want to watch the reunion. But Xyn still said nothing. His Mind was silent, and Abrams sighed heavily. There was nothing.

Always before, he could sort of ‘feel’ Xyn’s moods and know when he was near. After all, he’d raised him. He’d hidden him. He’d loved him.

Then, as he was turning around to go back to his work, he heard a strangled cry and felt Xyn’s Mind hit his own like a blow. He looked back up just in time to see the young one that he’d raised and lost running towards him with arms outstretched. It was a moment he would remember for the rest of his life: the tears in the young one’s eyes, the lost look on his face, and the single, soft whimper he made as he ran. Xyn pulled off his helmet and dropped it in the grass as he ran blindly, his eyes full of tears.
Abram’s first instinct was to bend down and catch him, but he realized just in time that Xyn had grown. Instead he stood firm and caught Xyn in a tight embrace, pulling his bald head to his shoulder and holding him as if he might vanish like some ghost. He said nothing. He simply held him as Xyn wept, his armored body trembling. Abram’s hand rubbed the top and back of his head as he pressed his cheek against Xyn’s temple. The flood of emotions from the young Psion was suddenly overwhelming, and they sank to their knees on the grass as Abram’s tried to comprehend what Xyn was throwing at him.

There was a green forest and blue berries and barren wasteland. There was sun, and another little one … a young one with fangs and dark skin … there was a city … what had been a city … Ruins … strange and high buildings … tunnels … stairs … dank and musty and dark places … a tall and beautiful woman … another little one … books … explorations … curiosity … a journey … pain … fear … feelings of rejection and loss … loss so great … and loneliness. There was suddenly another one … Minds … so many Minds … exhaustion … pleasure … guilt … and pain.

Abrams own finite Mind caught at the pain he felt as Xyn sobbed, and something strange flashed before his eyes. He saw blood, heard a terrible scream, and pulled the armored form at his breast closer as he too began to cry. The pain was Xyn’s pain, unimaginable as it tore through Abram’s very being. Somehow the little one that he’d always wanted for his own had been seriously injured at some point in his journey.

Very slowly, Xyn’s odyssey since the night of the fire came to him.

He held him for a long time. Very gently, he kissed Xyn’s forehead then placed his hands on both cheeks to lift his flawless and tear-stained face to stare into his eyes.
“Oh, gods, I thought I’d never see you again,” Abrams whispered.
Xyn shook his head and coughed, unable to speak. I was afraid too! I missed you, but I found out some things, awful things … and I … I thought you … I was so mad at you! I’m sorry! I was wrong. You never hurt me … and …”
“It’s alright, Xyn,” Abrams interrupted him, “You needn’t explain, you already have. I thought I was protecting you, and in some small way, I was. I found out some things too. And I’m so proud of you!”
“Why?” Xyn choked.
Abrams thought for a moment, wondering if Xyn were ‘listening’ after all he’d just ‘shown’ him. He pulled him close again, holding him and thinking. Finally, he said, “If you don’t know, I’ll trust you not to pry with that Psi of yours. I think if you don’t know yet, you’ll be better off.”
Xyn looked up at him in confusion, yet he remembered the manners he’d been taught and the things he’d just shared. And some that he hadn’t. He didn’t probe. He simply nodded and they stood up. Abrams’ arm was about his shoulders, and Xyn’s was about the man’s waist as they walked toward the others.

“Always remember this, Xyn,” Abrams told him, “I love you. More than you can know, probably. I never stopped loving you, and I never gave up looking for you. I sent the Hunter out after you to bring you back to me. I know you’ve found someone your own age to love, and that you’re going to risk your life going after him. I don’t want to lose you again, but I won’t stand in your way.”
“You can come with us,” Xyn offered quickly, his eyes lighting up with hope.
Abrams laughed. “I may have to. It seems that someone doesn’t like me at work anymore. Actually, I think I’m need of a new home, now.”
They all laughed at that as they sat down to eat. Surprisingly, there was real food and not field rations. “All the comforts of home,” Dan mentioned.
No one asked where it came from, and Xyn sat very closely next to Abrams with Tym at his other side. Abrams watched how Xyn watched Tym, and wondered at the duality of the frightened but mighty young warrior sitting at his side.

When they’d finished their meal and darkness had finally fallen, the Hunter spoke up. He himself, like Abrams, had two little ones almost in his lap. “So do we spend the night here?” he asked, gesturing towards the old church.
There was a bit of discussion, but finally, everyone agreed that sleep was in order and the church house offered shelter. Dan quickly drew up a guard schedule, and they turned to go in. Then Adam and Chriss fell back a bit, staring back at the hastily prepared campsite.
“I think a tent sounds good, though,” the Pyro stated, “You know, outside, under the stars, fresh air.”
“We did spend a lot of time setting them up,” Adam agreed, as the two headed back outside.

The Outcasts laughed, but the joke was lost on the rest of them.

“What about the crafts?” Abrams asked, “What if someone sees them?”
Kefe laughed, his cyan eyes shining. Abrams gasped. “Sorry,” he offered, his arm about Xyn’s shoulders, whose arm was about Tym’s shoulders.
“Leave that to me,” the Nightstalker replied. “It’s dark, and I’m awake. I slept some on the way here.”
“And that means?” Abrams asked, raising an eyebrow.
“It means we can sleep because if anyone gets near here, Kefe and Dan will tear them to pieces,” Tym explained helpfully.
Abrams stopped in his tracks.
“Life’s rough,” Xyn stated sagely as the entered the abandoned church.

It was near midday when they all finally awoke. The stress of the previous day’s journey had taken its toll on all of them, and the rest had been much needed. Kefe had gone to sleep in their flyer that morning, having been relieved by Adam. One by one, they straggled out of the old church, yawning and stretching and looking generally confused and pathetic.

“If this is the army that’s gonna save the World, we’re in bad trouble,” Tym observed.

The Hunter, who had gone back to Abram’s craft, looked up from his control panel. He smiled at the little one, who was adjusting his downsized body armor. Then he laughed. “One person at a time,” he replied.
Tym smiled back at him, then the Hunter swore loudly.
“What is it?” Abrams asked, looking up from a pack he’d pulled from the craft.
“This is unbelievable!” The Hunter gasped. “Authority has just declared Martial Law. Old Cities are under lockdown, and no one’s allowed out on the streets, Approved or not. Overnight, it seems that more than 75% of the Unapproveds in EVERY SINGLE Old City has gone Runaway! Nothing’s getting done – anywhere! It’s chaos! The Newsfeeds are working, but the Networks are pretty much dead! The signal keeps breaking up, but enough of it’s coming through to warn everyone to stay put! Authority and Government forces are scrambling to get control of the New Cities. It’s just … pandemonium!”

“That would be Duncan-2’s doing,” Dan explained, ripping into a field ration canister.
“Who’s Duncan-2?” Abrams asked, then his face paled. Tym’s eyebrows shot up.
“I see you know of him,” the little one observed, looking around casting his Mind out over the landscape.
The Hunter jumped down from the craft. “Duncan-2, if it’s the one I’m thinking of, is dead!” He replied.
“Depends on how you define ‘dead’,” Dan countered. “Mom says this Kel fellow set up a control station in the Ruins, that we’d need it someday. He showed her how to use it, before Jayk killed him. I spent a lot of time in that room, and I met Duncan a long time ago.”
Then Chriss cleared his throat and Dan and Tym fell silent, nodding at him.

The Hunter shook his head and turned off the craft’s communications systems. “Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know,” he grumbled. Then he remembered the chips that he’d torn out of the dead Kel’s head back in the Ruins. He shivered, suddenly not wanting to know what was on them as he shook his head at Dan.

Then, around back of the old church house, something exploded and everyone hit the ground. Those who had weapons drew them, and every Psion in the Gang threw his Mind at the building as an acrid cloud of blue-gray smoke rose up from behind it. Suddenly Adam began to laugh, and everyone looked him with open mouths.

“Sorry!” The young Bomber apologized, still laughing, “That was just ‘R’. I’d know a Bomber’s blast anywhere!”

Adam’s laughter stopped, however, when he – along with everyone else – felt the gentle pressure of a Mind pass through his own. They all looked up at the front door of the old church to see Xyn, dressed in his own body armor and mirrored visor down, leading Edward IV and the little Mutant known as ‘R’ out. ‘R’ had tendrils of smoke rising from his Suit and his eyes were wild. Edward was trying to suppress a grin, but everyone could tell how Xyn felt.

Now is NOT the time for antics, his Mind told them all. We only have so much time, and we mustn’t be discovered. Shar and her computers can only keep the Government and Authority systems offline for so long, and then we’re on our own. We have to be in and out of Far South by tonight, and back in the Ruins by morning if we can find fuel and the crafts hold out. It’s going to be a hard ride, and there’s going to be fighting, I’m sure. We can’t afford to take any risks or let our guard down!

Everyone stared at him for an awkward while, unsure of what to say as ‘R’ looked up at Xyn and began to cry. “I … I … d-dint mean t-to!” he choked, running down the steps and into Abram’s arms. The former Facility Director looked up at Xyn and raised an eyebrow. “Little Mutants are prone to accidents, you’ll recall,” he advised in a tone he’d often used with Xyn when he was very little.

Xyn, however, said nothing as the Presence of his Mind left them and he stalked off towards the Outcasts’ craft. Only Tym watched him go.

What was THAT all about? he asked, still sweeping the area in an effort to locate the Mind that he felt was watching them.
He was playing around, Xyn replied with some heat, And he knocked down a dead tree. It burst into flames, and damn nigh took him with it. This is NOT the time. YOU of all people should realize that. After all, you know everything don’t you?

Xyn’s reply struck Tym hard and the strange little Mutant’s eyes filled. He clapped his own visor down to hide it, and returned to his search, excluding Xyn from his Mind.

I’m sorry, Xyn replied after a few moments, and Tym could feel the regret in his thought. Nothing else was needed as he hopped up on the craft’s wing and got in to sit beside Xyn. Then, to his surprise, Xyn pulled him into his lap, armor and all, and held him. Tym could hear the sobs coming from behind his visor, and reached out a small hand and tentatively raised it to reveal Xyn’s haunted face.

Unable to say it aloud, Xyn opened his Mind to Tym and the little Mutant understood it all in a matter of seconds.

Xyn was afraid.

They all look at me differently now, he was thinking, Like I’m some sort of hero, a mythical hero like we read about at bedtime who can’t screw up or be hurt! But what if I screw up, Tym? What if I don’t get Jayk back? What if someone gets killed? What if they come at us in force, looking for me? It will be ALL my fault!
“What if, what if, what if …You’ll do fine,” Tym said out loud.
Xyn swallowed hard. “There’s something they’re not telling me,” he pried.
“And you’re too mannerly to dig into it with your Psi,” Tym replied.
“You know what it is,” Xyn accused, still holding him tightly.
Tym nodded. “So do the Hunter, and Mr. Abrams. But you don’t need to know, like he said. Just let it go. It’s nothing bad. Trust me.”
Xyn smiled at him through his tears, just as Abrams poked his head over the edge of the open cockpit.

“Everyone’s almost ready,” he advised. He then paused, staring into Xyn’s bloodshot eyes. Very softly, he laid a hand on the young one’s armored shoulder. “You were a lot more loveable when you didn’t carry a blaster and wore a white Suit,” he commented.

They flew low and avoided detection for the remainder of the day. A few times, they passed a couple of patrol craft, but without Networking and the Comm-Tell system, they remained undetected. The Outcasts’ assault craft bore Government markings, and Abrams craft was personal and generic model so that those on the ground who saw them didn’t’ think twice. Near midday, they stopped to refuel at an Airfield where no one had come in to work. The Hunter blasted the security Bots into shrapnel without a second thought as Adam coached the little Bomber Mutant ‘R’ through gently blowing the locks off the tank caps. Visions of millions of gallons of fuel igniting underneath of them danced in Xyn’s Mind, but he kept it to himself. By evening, they were coming in range of Far South and the New City there.

“I can feel him,” he whispered through clenched teeth. “I can feel him and his Master,” he almost growled, banking the craft hard to starboard and beginning a descent through the high level clouds that they had hidden in during the last leg of their flight.

Everyone looked at him, and Kefe was the first to speak. “Is he OK?” the young Nightstalker asked, licking his lips as his eyes glowed.
Xyn nodded. “HE is, but I can’t guarantee the state of his Master’s health for much longer,” he replied, leveling out the craft and avoiding a few trees as the Hunter followed him in. They made a fast pass that gave them a view of Wilson’s estate, but just barely. By the time they had landed and disembarked in the surrounding Forest, more than a few of their faces were green. Chriss found this amusing and laughed.

“Who taught YOU how to fly, boy?” The Hunter demanded, wiping at his armor.
Xyn pointed at Chriss then tapped his temple.
The Hunter grunted, and Abrams laughed. The Hunter glared at him.
Then Edward and ‘R’ hopped down. ‘R’’s Suit was stained and it was a dull blue instead of white. The little Bomber Mutant’s face was red with shame, and he hid behind Abrams. “I’m sorry,” he offered.
“What happened?” Tym asked, feigning ignorance and trying not to laugh.
“’R’ puked on him,” Edward IV stated in an amused tone as the Hunter continued to wipe at his armor and the rest of them collapsed into helpless laughter.

Xyn’s Mind, however, was scanning the estate as they began to walk in that direction. The urge to run to Jayk, or at least let him know that he was there, was very powerful. Still, he resisted. His Mind passed over the grounds and into the house, feeling the presence of Ev Wilson, a few busy servants, and Jayk. Xyn wanted badly to linger there, but he moved on with some effort. At the very edges of his Mind, he could feel Tym probing the area as well. There was no one else on neither the ground floor nor the second floor. Then Xyn moved his Mind up to the third floor and roof and gasped.

Guards, he sent to them all, Government men. Armed and watching. It would seem that we were expected.
The Hunter spat out an unflattering oath and checked his weapons. The rest of them did the same.
“How many?” Abrams whispered.
“Eight!” Xyn breathed, then swore. “Make that ten.”
“Pretty good odds,” Kefe growled softly, flexing his arms and legs. “Shall I go in for a look?”
Xyn shook his head. “I think it might be best to just walk up to the door and knock,” he mused. “After all, we don’t want a mess, do we?”
“But what if they’re like the spies in the Ruins?” Tym asked.

Xyn stopped in his tracks, his brows knitted. He clapped his visor down and drew his weapon as they approached the edge of the Forest. “We’re running out of time,” he advised, “And Tym’s got a valid point.” He probed the house again, and nodded, swearing beneath his helmet.
“Trained Minds, Approved,” Tym explained, checking his own weapon. “But they haven’t been here long. Some of them think Wilson hired them. Some of them are waiting, expecting something.” Then he paused and his brows knitted in concentration. “Shit! Someone trained them pretty well, too. I can’t break any of them without someone noticing it. I think someone knew we were coming.”
Xyn swore again.
“WHERE did you pick up that kind of language?” Abrams asked, shocked.
Xyn shrugged. “I think you should take the little ones back to the craft wait, Mr. Rick,” he suggested, slipping unconsciously into his former mode of address. “It’s bound to get ugly in there, and you’re not armed, nor a Mutant. In fact, I can’t even ask any of you to go in with me. You got me here. That’s all I wanted; more than I wanted.”

Kefe stepped up beside of Xyn, as did Dan. Actually, Dan sort of just ‘appeared’ at his side with a sound of rustling leaves and grass, making Xyn flinch. Adam and Chriss followed, and then the Hunter. They all turned to look back at Tym.

“Don’t think you’re leaving me behind,” he stated, walking up to Xyn and taking his hand. “I want him back, too.”

Abrams nodded, taking the two little Mutants back towards the crafts. “If you’re not back in a mini-Cycle, then I’m coming in with the little guns, here,” he advised in a sick tone, gesturing at the little ones. His humor was dark, but Xyn understood it. Rick Abrams was a wanted man now, and he, like the Mutants, had nowhere to go. He nodded to the man who had raised him and loved him.

“If you need help, open a channel to Shar. The computer will do it for you. We still have our satellite, and you can get back to the Ruins that way with them,” Xyn said in an equally sick voice. Then he sighed and squared his shoulders. “Let’s go.”

As they stepped out of the Forest’s edge, Dan suddenly held up a hand and dashed out in front of them. He seemed to be in almost two places at once, and the others blinked.
“There’s bound to be a security perimeter,” he advised, “And the power grid is still online. Duncan’s good, but he’s not been able to knock out the Continental Power Nets yet. He’s having enough trouble keeping the Networks scrambled. Let me go on ahead. I’ve NEVER met a security net I couldn’t fool before, and the Old City has some good ones on the best shops!”
Xyn, his face hidden behind his visor, smiled. He nodded at Dan, and suddenly the little armored Mutant was gone.

“Where’d he go?” The Hunter asked in amazement.
He got his answer a few seconds later as a confused welter of emotions and a flurry of activity went off inside of Wilson’s house. The guards were in a state of confusion, and Wilson was angry. Xyn let his Mind wander the house a bit, locking onto Jayk.
Jayk was laughing, and Xyn smiled.
Then suddenly Dan was back in front of them, breathing hard. He raised his visor and they saw that his face was sweating.

“Ye gods,” he panted, “That’s a good one. The security field told them that I was in about ten places at once. They’re sort of confused and upset now.”
“We noticed,” Tym replied, holding up a hand with thumb upraised.
“Problem is, it SHOULD have read a massive attack on the house, the way I was moving,” Dan retorted. “It’s a good one. I got a look at Jayk as I passed by a window too, thank gods for body armor! I crashed into a rosebush when I saw him!”

Xyn raised his visor. “Is … is he OK?”
Dan nodded, and then wrinkled up his nose and his sweaty face flamed red in a blush. “You won’t believe how he looks, though. That Wilson is one weird bastard, if you ask me.”
The Hunter snorted, and then exhaled hard. He lifted his visor to let in a cool night breeze, despite his armor’s efforts to keep him comfortable. “I think I know what you mean,” he explained to the others, “When I left Jayk here, much as I didn’t want to, Wilson had him all dolled up for dinner the night I left. It was rather … revealing, shall we say.”

He was answered by the metallic sucking sound of Xyn’s visor going down again, with force, and sealing. His Mind expanded in anger, and he swept the house again. He threw caution to the wind, and set his blaster for maximum yield at wide beam.

I’m here, Jayk, his Mind roared as he cried it aloud. I’m here and you’re going home!

Xyn! The reply came back, You’re here! But they know! You’ll be killed! That fat man was here last month and …
I know that they know, and I’m ready for them. I brought some help, too. NOTHING is keeping me from you this time! Xyn interrupted, flashing an image of the Dealer at the Hunter. He snorted and smiled evilly.

Tym muttered a foul oath and began drawing upon his strange abilities. He probed at the men in the house, disregarding Wilson, and began to concentrate on literally tearing their Minds to shreds. None of them appeared to be Psions as he attacked. At the same time, the Hunter made his move, and the group followed suit as two of the guards went down, senseless as Xyn joined him in his attack.

They took the household by surprise, the remaining guards having written Wilson’s security system off as faulty when they’d found no one after Dan’s run at it. They had all just settled down to a late refreshment in the great room, wondering at their two missing companions, when Adam knocked the front door down. It exploded from its casing in thousands of smoking fragments, and Chriss promptly set fire to the back of the house, near the kitchens, to provide a distraction. The Outcasts crossed the well-maintained lawn at a dead run, but Dan was far out ahead of them. By the time they reached the smoking ruins of the door, he was long gone with Kefe struggling to keep up with him.

The little Mutant disappeared into the huge and threatening brick mansion, and they lost sight of him. Xyn and Tym, too busy with the guards, couldn’t track his Mind. The men took a moment to get their bearings and realize what was going on, but when they did, things began to erupt. As the Outcasts stormed the vestibule and took the front receiving room, one of the guards went down screaming. He rolled about on the floor, hands clawing at his face and eyes wide as the illusion cast by Tym tore at his Mind. They could afford him only a slight glance as he began to tear the skin from his face, the blood soaking his uniform as he wailed in hopeless insanity.

Only half of them are armored! The Hunter sent to the rest of them, focusing his Psi at his Gang only. Leave them to me!

As Xyn blasted a hesitant and confused guard into nothingness with his blaster, taking a priceless antique stool and vase with him, Tym focused on another guard; the armored man tore his helmet off and ran screaming from the room. He paused at the patio doors long enough to fire off a shot at Tym then crashed through the etched glass and ran screaming. Adam followed him out and blew the earth out from under him. The wild shot, however, caught Tym’s helmet near the top left, damaging his closed visor’s hinge. The little one screamed and went to his knees. He shook his head, got back up, and began firing, in concert with Xyn, at the armored guards going for the Hunter.

The Hunter dived behind a sofa, taking as many shots as he could at the armored guards with his own blaster. Their armor was smoking here and there, but it was obvious that it could take a great deal of damage. Xyn was hoping that their own was half as good as he watched one finally fall, when an unexpected blast took him full in the back. He fell to the floor as Chriss ignited the drapery and Adam pulled part of the ceiling down upon two of the armored guards that the Hunter was firing upon. As the rubble pinned them, the Hunter blew their heads off.

“Keep in mind that the other end of this monster house is burning!” the Pyro called, hurling fireballs the remaining guards.

Xyn pulled himself up slowly, his Mind blazing and his body aching. The blast had been close, and he could feel the burns on his back. His armor was obviously damaged, but his Mind cried out for blood. Kefe, however, beat him to it. The Nighstalker fell from a chandelier in the next room, whirling about as he dropped. He landed upon an unarmored guard, sinking his fangs into the man’s neck. Blood gushed as he ripped out the throat, and Xyn felt a pang of regret and horrible sadness from the floor above him.

Jayk! he screamed.

Xyn, watch out! There are more than guards! The house is going into safe mode! Get out!
Jayk, the house is on fire too, Chriss did it!
We know! Now run!
Not without YOU! Xyn cried, his helmet-encased head darting this way and that as his Psi lashed at the ominous house in an effort to locate Jayk.

He could feel the servants running away, and then feel them suddenly panic and begin to die. He afforded himself the moment of finding out why. Astonished, he felt the combined wills of Edward IV and ‘R’ working in tandem to lure them within the little Bomber Mutant’s range. He could feel Abram’s sickness as the two little ones worked the servants over – Edward lulling them into a false sense of security so that ‘R’ could blow them to bits.

Without warning, he was hot. Very hot. “Xyn, get back!” Chriss screamed, as a huge fireball shot past him as he hit the floor again. The fireball, which has destroyed the Pyro Mutant’s armor gloves, narrowly missed him and took an armored guard full in the chest. He let off a tight-beamed blast as the fireball struck him, and it nicked Chriss’ flaming hand. The Pyro screamed in pain, but he did not relax his Mind as the armored man took fire and literally began to burn to the ground. The room filled with the smell of smoking meat, and the man screamed again and again as he literally roasted alive inside of his own body armor.

“Jayk says we have to get out!” Xyn called, “Something about a safe-mode coming online.”
“Fuck me!” The Hunter yelled, taking a shot at the last fleeing unarmored guard. “I know where the main control box is. Leave it to me. Wilson’s as bad as the guards, Xyn. I hate to do it, but you’ve got to get Jayk to go Beast for us! Wilson could have a hundred traps waiting for us in here!”

Xyn shook his head and sent the thought to Jayk, who was frightened. He’d never felt THAT from Jayk before, not like this, and it frightened him as well.
I can’t! Jayk protested.
You MUST!
Xyn, no, it’s too terrible! I killed Kel like that. Please, don’t make me!
I’ll try and avoid it, Jayk, but you might have to! YOU know Wilson and the house better than we do! I won’t leave without you, Jayk, so get ready!

The Hunter lunged for where he recalled the control box to be as a thunderous explosion shook the house. A stream of epithets and curses and slurs about the Approveds, the gods, and Mankind in general followed that explosion as Adam lashed at the back yard. Huge trees, their roots pulling up great chunks of earth, fell in front the last fleeing guard. He turned and fired his weapon at the young Bomber, but his shot had too far to travel and it bounced harmlessly off of his dinged and scuffed armor. Adam looked up, and sweeping his arm in a fluid movement, began tearing slate tiling from the roof. He hurled the tiles, which exploded in midair, at the guard. The Hunter found the house’s control box and blasted it, then they all turned to watch Adam’s show of destruction in sheer awe.

The Psions could even feel that Wilson, somewhere on the third floor with Jayk, had paused as well.

There were flickers of the lights as the house lost its “mind”. With the control panel shattered, the security system and any traps that Wilson had lain with it failed. Still, Adam continued his advance upon the guard, still swearing sulfurously and raining destruction down upon him as the others regrouped. They did a head count, and found Tym missing. The Hunter, however, quickly located him on the only surviving couch in the great room, resting.

Finally, holstering his blaster, Adam confronted the guard who fired at him again as a tile exploded in front of him. A sharp fragment took off one of his hands, and blood sprayed out as he cried out for mercy.

Adam, however, had none to give him.

“DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?” He demanded, blowing a chunk out of the sod at the dying man’s feet.

The last guard whimpered, clutching at the stump of his wrist and literally staring Death in the soft and unblemished face of an eternally young one.

Adam pulled off his helmet, and the guard gasped. “Y-you’re just a l-lit-tle XY!” he gasped.
“No,” Adam countered, “I’m not. In case you didn’t notice, I’m a Mutant. Unapproved. A Runaway slave, too. But an XY, I’m not! YOUR kind saw to that. YOUR kind wanted slaves. Everything for YOU, and nothing for US! You Approveds and your desires, always getting what YOU want! And who pays for it? I DID!” He screamed, blasting half of the roof off of the back of the huge house and sending a rain of debris down upon the side lawn.

Then a deadly silence fell upon the Wilson estate.

“Wh-what are y-you, then?” the dying man choked, squeezing at his stump and trying to stop the bleeding. Uninvited, Chriss stepped up to Adam’s side and laid a slim and smoking greenish-tinted hand upon his love’s shoulder. He focused his Pyro ability and cauterized the man’s bleeding stump.
The guard howled in agony as the bloody lump of meat smoked and stopped bleeding.

“I am an e-XY,” Adam whispered, concentrating his Will upon the Approved’s head.

“Adam, do you really wanna do this?” Chriss asked him.
Adam, with tears streaming down his smooth face, nodded. “I’ve wanted to do this ever since my Master called the Exterminators on me,” he replied in a chilling and high-pitched voice. “I’ve wanted to do it ever since that fat-ass dealer cut me and laughed and told me how beautiful I was.”

Chriss stepped back. Then be done with him, he sent. But it’ll do you no good. I just burned a man alive inside of his own armor in there. I think I’m going to puke.

And with that, Adam the Bomber and e-XY Mutant Unapproved unleashed the full rage of his fourteen Cycles worth of hurt.

The unarmed man exploded into absolute nothingness. Only two indentations in the soft grass made by his knees remained.

Very slowly, Adam sank to his own knees in the green grass, staring in horror at the wreckage all around him. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. His eyes were wide and pale as Chriss went to him, taking him in his arms as he had done a few nights after the breaking down of their mental blocks. Then, exhausted as he was from expending so much energy on fireballs during the fight, he let his limited Psi reach out to the young e-XY that he loved. He swallowed hard, opening his tired Mind to Adam.

Adam’s head sank into Chriss’ shoulder as the young Pyro finally figured out how Xyn and Jayk had done it. They both understood the anguish in an instant, and as Adam broke down and wept like the broken-hearted little one that he was, they were replaced by an entity that was Adam/Chriss.

No one said a word as they watched them. The Hunter, who’s Psi was the least spent, swept the area. “We’re clear, for the moment,” he warned. “How bad are we hurt?” he asked, wiping at his badly damaged and smoking armor. “Tym’s resting inside, what about the rest of you?”

Xyn looked around, his vision blurry and his own armor smoking. His back stung with the burns that he knew he had as Kefe dropped from what was left of a ceiling beam. The Nightstalker’s cyan eyes were shining, and his fangs dripped blood down his chin. “I’m fine,” he stated, going to Xyn and looking him over. “Man, you’re fucked up bad in the back, Xyn,” he advised.
“Where’s Tym?” Xyn asked, sweeping his Mind around the room and feeling it coming back up to power so quickly. He took a deep breath, amazed to find himself still feeling the emotions coming from the craft. Rick Abrams was ill, and the two little Mutants were somewhat elated and confused and sort of ill all at the same time. He tuned them out and concentrated upon Tym and Jayk.

From the great room that they had laid waste in battle came a soft whimper. Dan was still nowhere to be found, but Tym didn’t sound good. Kefe helped Xyn to his feet, but the young Psion brushed him off and stumbled into the next room. He found Tym collapsed on a divan by a large potted palm tree in the corner. The little one had pulled his damaged helmet off and detached his gloves. His face was drawn and pale, and he was gasping for breath. There was a knot on his left temple near his eye, and he was blinking rapidly.

Xyn stumbled over to him, and with a great effort, lifted his head and shoulders and sat down. He gently laid Tym’s head in his lap and smoothed his hair.
“What’s wrong?” he cried, “Are you hit?” he asked, searching the little Mutants relatively unscathed body armor. Then he looked at the helmet, discarded on the rug and gasped. He saw the bump and gasped.
“Not that,” Tym choked. “M-my head ins-s-ide. I h-hurt my-s-self. Over-did …” he wheezed, his pale head lolling over to the side. Xyn saw the veins in his forehead pulsing, and his lips were turning blue.
“Hunter!” Xyn called out, “Tym’s hurt bad!”
The Hunter ran to his side, his Psi tired and his body aching. He took one look at Xyn’s damage, grimaced, and then probed at Tym. Xyn watched the color drain from his face.
“What is it?” the young Psion cried. “What’s wrong with him?”
The Hunter shook his head. “He’s exhausted, Xyn. He’s been running his little Mind full tilt almost since the day we had that Group-Mind thing after the attempt on your lives back in the Ruins. He just KNOWS that someone’s out there, and he’s been determined to find them. He’s been watching me, you, Jayk, and looking all this time, and over all that distance. Then this fight, what he did back there to those guards, and I’m pretty sure he’s been the one tampering with those two little Mutants that Abrams is watching back our crafts. NO ONE learns that fast! He’s just burned himself out, Xyn.”
“AND?!” Xyn cried, tears beginning to run down his flawless face.
Tym coughed, weakly reaching up a small hand. Xyn held his own up, and the Hunter reached over to pull Xyn’s glove off. He took Tym’s shaking hand in his own, willing him to live.

Wilson, Tym sent weakly, his not-quite-Psi a stuttering a quiet whisper.
“What about him?” Xyn asked, his voice choked with tears.
“Wils-son … a-f-fraid … Jayk’s c-collar … can’t hold it m-much longer,” Tym gasped. “Fighting with s-s-someone …”
The Hunter snapped his fingers and nodded. “I got it! Xyn, focus your Psi on just Tym. We know he’s different than us, somehow. We’re not used to a Psi like his, it’s so strange! But once you ‘get’ it, you can feel it! He’s fighting someone right now and trying to keep Wilson off balance too! If he doesn’t let off soon …”

Xyn nodded, his eyes suddenly alight as Kefe brought them a glass of water and a medkit. He took another and turned. “I’m going outside to check on the firebug and Adam,” he stated, nodding to the Hunter who nodded back.

Then Xyn felt it. Another Mind, on a strange and unfamiliar operating Psionic level, was definitely there. He could feel the mental ‘carnage’ going on, and suddenly felt Tym’s exhaustion. Ignoring the pain in his back and fueled by his own fears of failure and of losing Tym or Jayk, Xyn joined that fight. He merged into the fray, gently pushing the little one aside. Tym didn’t resist, and when the Hunter was sure that he was ‘clear’ of it, he injected him with something from the medkit that Kefe had brought. Tym’s breathing eased, and he fell asleep as his Mind shut down for the first time in months.

From the top of the stairs leading off from the dining room came a wicked laugh. “I hate Psions,” Wilson sneered, clutching Jayk by the arm and holding a blaster to his head. “I wondered why I was suddenly so scared to even move, for fear that lovely Jayk here might bite me,” he mused. “Ah, well. Welcome to my home, gentlemen, or rather, what’s left of it? You’ll get a bill, of course.” Then he looked upon the Hunter, who stood up slowly. “Aren’t you dead?” he asked.

The Hunter shook his head, having opened his visor some time before. “No, I’m not,” he replied slowly. “Nice to see you again, Wilson. And guards? Must have cost you a fortune.”
Wilson sneered. “You just can’t get good help anymore,” he complained. “The damn Government sends agents, I hire guards. Some odd fat man comes here and tells me that some Mutant is going to kill me. What a time I’ve had! Oh, how is the perverse old slob, by the way?”
“Dead,” the Hunter replied coldly.
“Good,” Wilson replied, “I didn’t like him anyway.”

Then the Hunter turned his gaze towards Jayk. Prepare yourself, he advised.

Jayk saw the Hunter as well and smiled. His silver-capped fangs hung down just past his lower lip. His perfect white teeth were framed in those ruby lips, and his almond-shaped black eyes and sloped black brows raced back towards his pointed ears in which hung two perfect silver rings each. He turned his head to look at his Master, and his long black braids, pulled back into a thick tail, rustled against his back. His dark skin was slightly oiled and shone in the remaining light, mute testimony to Wilson’s plans for the evening. Upon each wrist and ankle was a padded silver cuff, more fashionable than functional. Upon his upper arms, which showed some signs of musculature, were two silver bands that reminded the Hunter of something from an ancient history lesson. There was also a silver ring on each of his middle fingers, both with a shining sapphire inlaid stone. The Hunter looked closer, and the rings drew his eyes to the missing finger. Jayk also wore the same silver slippers that the Hunter recalled, and his only other pieces of clothing were his belt and slave collar.

The collar and belt were also silver. The belt fit him well, and it encircled his slim waist and connected to the two silver leg pieces that ran from the sides and up under his thighs to meet in the back. It fit much like a pair of shorts, only there was nothing in the front to cover Jayk’s nudity. The belt was built to display Jayk’s near-perfect form, and the fact that he was a complete e-XY with no sign that he’d ever been born to manhood.

The Hunter gazed upon him and began to sweat. Oddly enough, since the reprogramming of his Suit, he didn’t feel the familiar frustrations that he was so accustomed to. He smiled back, but he WAS sweating. Heavily. His eyes focused on the slave collar with its huge sapphire inset, and his smile grew broader. He knew the model number of the collar, and saw that the indicator light near the stone was off. Smashing the control box for the house’s security field had neutralized it after all!

He smiled again.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so damn happy, were I you,” Wilson sneered, starting down the steps with Jayk in tow. “Now here’s what we’re going to do. I know how you feel about this one, Hunter. I know you want him. I’d like to have some of my funds back, so I’m willing to trade. You’re going to take me to your craft, we’re going to get some Authority out here, and once I’m safe from this motley terrorist squad of yours, I’ll hand Jayk over to you – papers and all! He’ll be yours, I’ll be safe, and we can part company. That’s after you Exterminate THEM, that is!” Wilson spat, gesturing with his free hand at Xyn and Tym.
“I’m a civilized man, Hunter. What do you say? After all, they’re just Unapproveds. Mutants. WE’RE different, you and I. Do we have a deal?”

“I think we should ask Jayk about that,” the Hunter replied. Xyn?
From his own struggle to throw off the one who had been fighting Tym, Xyn replied.

Do it Jayk! Do it now! Xyn cried out, clutching Tym to his breast and rocking him as he fought his own Psionic war. Somewhere out there was that Mind, the one he wanted, and he was so close! More than anything, he wanted to run to Jayk, to destroy Wilson on the spot, but he could NOT leave Tym undefended. This other Mind was raging for blood, as was Xyn as well. He looked up at Jayk, his eyes full of pleading … and longing.

Jayk looked down at the still form in Xyn’s lap. He sighed and stopped on the stairs, jerking his hand out of his Master’s grasp. Xyn was asking him to do the one thing that he swore he’d never do again – turn Beast.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Wilson demanded.
“I’m getting ready to go home,” Jayk replied calmly, kicking off his slippers and jumping back up five steps with fluid grace, much like Kefe’s.
Wilson aimed his blaster at him, but Jayk shook his head. “If you fire on me, the Hunter will shoot you. If you fire at him, his armor will block it, bad as it IS damaged, it will. Besides, Adam and Kefe and Chriss are still out there, and they’ll be back soon. The Hunter needs only to send ONE tiny little Psionic urge out to them, and they’ll come in here and shred you! And don’t even think about stunning me with my collar. It went offline when the Hunter smashed the control box. I’d say you’re in for a bad night, Master!”

“You’ll never get off the grounds, Jayk,” Wilson countered.
Jayk, however, shook his head and pointed to down the steps towards the doorway where the control panel used to be. Wilson’s face blanched, and Jayk snarled. “Who’s going to stop me?”

He stared in horror at his slave, his mind racing with the memories of the passion-filled nights he’s spent with Jayk in his bed as Jayk began to change. His dark skin turned even darker, and his black eyes began to glow red. Jayk’s smooth back hunched down a bit, and when he opened his mouth, the silver cosmetic caps popped off of his razor-sharp fangs as they extended down to almost touch his smooth chin. His already long arms seemed to grow even longer, and his nails extended into claws.
Wilson gazed in terror at the metamorphosis taking place before him.
From Jayk’s throat came an inhuman growl, as his entire body seemed to shift, becoming bulkier. The ancient Slow-Mutant raised up then, and his cry of rage echoed through the house. It brought Kefe, Adam and Chriss running to the shattered patio doors, but they froze in their tracks as Jayk seemed to take flight.

Wilson’s trembling hand dropped the blaster, and Jayk seized him in an embrace that was anything but passionate. “Kiss me, Master,” he growled, sinking his long fangs into Wilson’s mouth. Blood poured and Wilson screamed as Jayk’s fangs tore at his lips and tongue. Jayk’s own rough and lengthened tongue entered his mouth then, tearing skin as it went. His mouth filled with the hot, salty taste of fresh blood and he snarled again, throwing back his head to suck in a deep breath as Wilson’s blood ran down his chest. Jayk struck again and reared his head back once more, pulling away hard and breaking his Master’s teeth as he did. He spat teeth and blood down the stairs, and Wilson struggled to break away from the Beast upon him.

Jayk held fast, his long nails ripping into Wilson’s back and shredding his leather smoking jacket. More blood poured from those wounds as he fell, rolling down the stairs with Jayk gracefully skipping over him. He slid down the banister and landed upon his Master again. When he reached the bottom, at the feet of the dumbstruck Hunter, Jayk was fully upon him again with his wicked claws. Months of frustration, shame, and the longing for Xyn and home welled up within him as Jayk straddled his Master and raised a clawed hand to strike.

“Jayk,” Wilson gasped through his ruined mouth, his eyes filled with fear – and amazingly – lust!

Jayk saw where those eyes were focused, and snarled.

“No,” he growled, struggling to keep hold of his senses, unlike when he’d changed and killed Kel. “Never again, Master,” he said, his free hand running over his own empty crotch as Wilson moaned. Then, to add insult to injury, Jayk said, “I HATED it when you fucked me! You never could make ME cum! It was all for YOU! Xyn got it right the FIRST time!”

And with that, he brought his hand down, hard. His claws ripped into Wilson’s chest, and when he drew his hand back, he held his Master’s beating heart in his hand.

Wilson gazed upon the sight in shock, vomited up blood, then turned his head and died.

Silence filled the room as Jayk rolled backwards off of his dead Master. No one moved, except for Kefe, who rushed to his side with his medkit. He watched Jayk change back slowly, and when he was sure that his old friend was quite all right, he helped him to his feet. Jayk swayed and wobbled, but he didn’t pass out. His black eyes were full of tears, and he was shaking his head; his braids rustled.

“I never wanted to do that again,” he moaned, leaning upon Kefe.
“You did what you had to do, buddy,” Kefe replied, looking him up and down. “And what’s with this get-up?”
Jayk laughed weakly as Kefe got him over to a small divan that was not too badly burnt and sat him down. The Hunter joined him as Adam and Chriss, arms about each others’ shoulders, looked on. “Hello, Jayk,” the Hunter said, letting the ancient young one lean on him.
Jayk said nothing. He simply let the Hunter hold him while he cried.

Xyn caught momentary flickers of the events in the other room. He saw Jayk at the top of the stairs. He saw the change, saw the descent. He saw Wilson’s death, and although he longed to run to Jayk and embrace him, he stood firm. Still, the Mind that was attacking him could not be isolated. It dodged his every strike, coming back with force to hit him and retreat. It taunted him, speaking to him as he fought with it and tried to protect Tym.
Give up.
Never!
You cannot defeat me!
Who are you?
Who are YOU?
What?
They didn’t tell you, I can see that! Oh, how I love a secret!
I’m not that stupid! You won’t distract me!
I speak the truth!
And you attack little ones? How brave.
Tym is no ordinary little one. I have to admit that I never expected to run into HIM again, though.
What of him?
I got rid of the little bastard once, and I’ll do it again!
You’ll have to go through me first!
Leave him! The Tym-Experiment was a failure. We thought him long dead.
No! He’s not a failure! He’s special!
No, he’s a mistake. YOU are special, Xyn Psion.

THAT got Xyn’s attention. It was the name that Shar had given him, and the Mind that he fought with reminded him a great deal of her. The other Mind picked up on that.

Yes, Shar! We know her. We respect her. Misguided as she is.
What do you know of her?
Enough.
This time, however, Xyn’s adversary faltered at the thought of Shar. Whoever it was, he or she was afraid of her! But why?
You have only one viable course before you, Xyn Psion, and it is NOT with the Mutants of the Ruins. Do you really think that they can win this coming War? Already there is movement, action to stop them! The Ruins will be gone long before you arrive there!

Tym stirred in Xyn’s lap and moaned as the others came into the room. They said nothing, watching Xyn wage his own private fight that was, in many ways, more terrible than the fight that had raged in the house not so long ago.

Xyn looked down at the little one that he had taken in. He remembered Tym, so small and helpless and so close to starving when he’d found him at the first Transport ship. He remembered the strange Places of the Mind, the Waters and the Wild, that Tym had shown him how to reach. He thought back to the attempt upon their lives, of how sick the little one had been, and of how long it had taken him to recover. He recalled his time of isolation, running the Ruins and the Flats, the Forest, climbing the stairs of the old buildings and reaching for the very sky as he struggled to tone his young body. And he thought of Jayk – how he loved him, what he’d taught him, and how he’d missed him so very badly for so long.

Such a waste, the other Mind said flatly.
No. Not a waste. Necessity.
But why?
Then Xyn felt something new. This other Mind respected him. It fought with him, but it didn’t really want to kill him! It DID want to kill the other Outcasts, but not him! In a strange way, it even liked him. It wanted him.

It had plans for him.

Xyn paused in his counterstrike, creating an illusion of deep pondering. The other fell for it.
Yes! It exulted, You can be, you WILL be, so much more! You and your descendents were created, Xyn. YOU have a purpose, and it’s a grand one! We want you. We need you! Badly! What can these Outcasts and lesser beings mean to one like you? You have no idea of what you and yours will bring the World!

Xyn laughed aloud, and the rest of them stared at him.

The phrase “You and your descendents were created, Xyn,” struck him as hilarious.

This other Mind didn’t know! It had a plan, but surely it hadn’t counted on Xyn’s castration! It had gambled a great deal, it seemed, upon Xyn’s ability to father more little ones. Again, Xyn laughed as he stroked Tym’s pale hair and held him tenderly.

Charming, that Mind spoke to him, And so fitting. Father figure, Xyn Psion, Father to the World! Come to us with this ability of yours, this ability to love and be loved in return. Take your rightful place, Heir of Kadens the Unifier!

Xyn nearly choked as he heard his title spoken in his Mind. Suddenly a flood of images that had lain dormant in his Mind came to the surface. A man in a black business suit was there, and a fat man. A robot was carrying him, and then there was Mr. Rick and the other little ones! Then something came from Tym’s Mind as well – fear. All but shut down into unconsciousness, something that Tym must have hidden in Xyn’s mind at some past time rose up to be noticed. Xyn breathed deeply, amazed at the new information and how they had hidden it from him. One of his eyebrows raised, and he scratched at his head. Tym knew this Mind, and he was afraid of it.

That’s right, the other said to him, Do you understand?
Kadens the Unifier is my father? Xyn mused. But he’s been dead for a LONG time?
The other Mind realized that Xyn wasn’t grasping all of what it knew, yet it let it go. Xyn appeared to be off balance, and it relished the thought as it made a move for Tym.

Xyn, however, was NOT off balance and he struck back.

Tell me, is this job open to a eunuch? Xyn asked as the full force of his Mind finally grasped the very essence of the other and held it tightly. With a great effort, he then recalled the pain of his own brutal castration and threw the memory at the other Mind. It was a trick he’d learned from Tym.

What? The other almost screamed, struggling in vain to break out of the grip that Xyn’s memory of pain had it locked into.
You know, a eunuch, an e-XY. I’m castrated! Didn’t you know? The XY-hormones were messing up my Mutant abilities, so I got castrated. Problem solved! Wasn’t that why the spies in the Ruins drugged me up on HRT, to limit my abilities? So, do you still want me?

The other Mind screamed as Xyn tore into it anew. He saw a man, somewhere far away, in a shining New City to the Far North where the snows had already come. Somehow, this man was a powerful Psion. Xyn had never met him before, but he felt so familiar! Others were watching the man, listening to him. They were worried, Xyn could tell. Many of them were in a near panic, and Xyn laughed. Descendents? That’s going to be a serious problem, sir.

You little fool! It screamed. YOU?! An e-XY? DO you have any clue what you’ve done? After all the Resources that went into making you? You were the last, Xyn Psion! The LAST of the line! There can be no others! This cannot be! It wailed in agony, which confused Xyn.

Making me?
The other Mind did not answer.

“I am growing weary of you,” Xyn said aloud as well as with his Mind. “It is the truth. Unless I am cloned, I cannot bear little ones, as you ask. Whatever you think of me, whatever you mean that you hide from me, must all be irrelevant now. Were you not expending so much power to keep it from me, you might have been able to defeat me. But now it’s too late!”

And with that, Xyn struck a Psionic blow such as he’d never done before. He never knew where the power came from, as tired as he was. Later in life, he would convince himself that it had come from his status as an e-XY Mutant, his Psi unfettered by the lack of XY-hormones. He never found out from whence it really came.

Chriss fainted, and the Hunter fell over backwards. Back at the craft, Edward IV passed out. Up in the Ruins East, Shar jumped up from her control panel and her chat with Duncan-2 about the actions of the Mutants in the Ruins West and the global power grids. Every Psion Mutant on the Northern Continent, in fact, took notice of the Force of Xyn’s Mind sweeping to the New City Far North. Those who did not faint heard the death scream of that strange Mind as it fell down towards the Pit, taking its identity and a good many secrets with it.

Xyn felt it go, and he exhaled hard. His eyes glazed over as he shivered, and then he passed out.

The crafts landed softly in the wreckage of Wilson’s back yard. Abrams emerged from the first one, and a rather shaky and bewildered Edward IV got out of the second. His eyes were wild, and he looked stunned. Abrams smiled at him, watching the small progression coming across the lawn. It had been at the Hunter’s request that he’d brought the crafts in so that they wouldn’t have to carry their fallen comrades back and make a faster getaway before any more Authority or Government figures could arrive. Their time for escaping with the satellites and Networks scrambled was running out as well, and time was of the essence.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it, Eddie?” Abrams asked the little novice Psion.
Edward shook his head, his thick red hair waving. “I didn’t know I could do that,” he mumbled, leaning heavily upon ‘R’.
“I’m sorry, but we had to do it. You don’t know how to fly, and I do. I know you and ‘R’ are tired from the fight with the household staff, and I’m sorry I had to wake you up with those nasty smelling salts. You OK?”
Edward and ‘R’ both nodded.
“You need a real name,” Edward said to his friend.
‘R’ smiled.

Abrams then gasped as he saw what the Hunter carried in his arms.

Xyn’s body armor was still curling small wisps of smoke here and there, and his visor was cracked. The Hunter carried him face-down, and Abrams saw the gaping hole in the back of the young one’s armor. Jayk, having not been involved in the real fighting, came beside the Hunter with Tym in his arms. Tym’s armor was scuffed in a few places and his helmet was off, but his face had a gray pallor to it that Abrams didn’t like; there was also the growing bump on his head. The little one’s breathes came in short, ragged gasps and he whimpered as he hung limply in Jayk’s long arms.

The rest followed behind them, weapons draw and Mutant abilities at the ready. They were all tired, but there was no time to rest. Very carefully, they began boarding the crafts. “This isn’t going to work,” the Hunter commented, setting his weapon for a tight beam and cutting the back seats loose in the stolen craft. He threw them out, making room for the injured to lie down.

“Where’s Dan?” Kefe asked, suddenly looking around with his eyes shining.
“I haven’t seen him since the fight broke out,” the Hunter commented. “Gods, that little one can run!”
Chriss swept the area with his Psi, and he whistled. “He’ll be here in a few minutes. Would you believe he ran to the nearest neighbor? He’s swiped another medkit and even gotten a report from what’s left of the Networks.” Chriss then closed his eyes and concentrated hard. His true calling was as a Pyro, but he did have that limited Psi.

“We haven’t been found out yet, but Adam did sort of get the neighbors’ attention. They wanted to call the Authorities, but Dan says the communications system won’t work! The power’s out in town as well. Wait, here he comes now!”

Almost before Chriss could finish the sentence, Dan appeared, breathing hard. He tossed the large medkit to Kefe and sat down heavily in the grass. “I hate running in this armor,” he complained. Then he looked around. “I see we were successful.”
The Hunter laughed. “Neat trick with the security system, Dan. And thanks for the medkit and getting clear of the action. Your mother would have never forgiven us if we’d gotten you killed.”
Dan smiled. “You were all busy, and I’m not good with a blaster. Besides, we needed information and it’s hard to watch the Broadcasts with people shooting at you! Nice neighbors, really. I didn’t even have to shoot any of them. Anyways, the Networks are slowly coming back online, and the Government’s got one Comm-Tell orbiter working again. Martial Law is going on in all the New Cities, and the Old Cities are still under lockdown. No one’s allowed out, so the trip home could be rough. Every single member of the Authority is on duty, and there’s more craft in the air than anyone even knew existed! The only thing goin’ for us is the fact that everyone’s in a panic, and it’s pretty much chaos in the Cities.”
Then he paused.
“They also mentioned shots fired at the New Cities in the West and the original Old City East. It could be a rough flight home.”
“Shots from who?” Chriss asked.
“The Ruins,” Dan replied somberly.

The Hunter and Abrams nodded at him.
“What do you think?” Abrams asked.
“I think we fly hard and high and make for the Ruins,” he replied, boosting the little ones up into the crafts and settling everyone in. Very carefully, he lifted Xyn, and then Tym, up to Abrams who laid them out in the back of the modified craft. Kefe tended to them as best he could, delicately removing Xyn’s badly damaged body armor and wrinkling his nose at the burnt smell. Tym moaned as Adam moved to help strip him as well, but he did not regain consciousness.
“Let me help,” Jayk asked Kefe, who nodded and handed him a damp cloth.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Abrams suggested. “They’re bound to show up any time now, and I don’t want to be here when they do.”

The crafts took the sky and leveled out for a high cruise mode at maximum speed. Adam, in the Outcasts’ craft in front with ‘R’ at his side stood ready for an attack. They didn’t want to waste power shooting down enemies, and the Bomber Mutants, although near exhausted, stood watch like troopers. Abrams and the Hunter flew behind them with the little ones and Dan, having made room for Jayk in the lead craft.

“Damn,” Kefe breathed, finally getting Xyn’s ruined backplate off of him, exposing his back. It was covered with ugly blistered burns, some of which oozed and were stuck to his black undershirt. Very slowly, they finished stripping them.

As Kefe was finishing his examination of Tym for physical wounds, he looked up to see Jayk staring at Xyn’s naked form. Kefe covered Tym’s unmarked body with a blanket. Very slowly, Jayk reached out a long-fingered hand and touched the smoothly healed wound where the young Psion had been castrated. “He told me,” Jayk whispered, “He reached out that Psi of his all the way to here when he was being cut. I cried myself to sleep that night, Kefe,” Jayk whispered, tears welling up in his eyes. “I’ve been an e-XY for many Cycles that I forget when I was cut. I couldn’t believe he did it!”

Kefe laid a hand on his old friend’s shoulder, and then pulled a small blanket from one of the emergency packs. He wrapped it about Jayk, who was trembling and not well dressed for the trip to colder climates. “He did it to save his Psi,” the Nighstalker replied.
“I know,” Jayk agreed in a sick voice full of regret, “But still … I never wanted him to … to end up like … me.”
Kefe smiled. “He isn’t like you, Jayk.”
“He came for me. He always said he would,” Jayk said in wonder.
“Help me with his burns,” Kefe asked, propping the unconscious Xyn up so that Jayk could hold him.

“Worse than it looks,” Jayk replied, “Second degree. No charred skin.” He tapped at the piece of shattered armor. “Good stuff,” he commented, carefully spreading some ointment over Xyn’s wounds with a trembling hand.
“What about Tym?” Kefe asked.
Jayk shook his head. “I don’t know, other than that bump on his head. He’s a Psion, or something. I’m not. I really don’t know. Do we have ship to ship comm.?”
Kefe nodded, and called for an open channel.
“Dan, it’s Jayk! We need to call your mom!”
“Why?”
“Tym’s not responding to anything we do for him. His breathing’s not good, either. I think it’s mental, not injury to his body. Shar would know.”
Dan thought for a moment, then a soft feminine voice filled with anxiety came over the speakers.

“Dan, oh gods, Dan, are you all well? I’ve been waiting to hear!”
“We’re fine, thanks, and you?” Jayk answered.
“Jayk!” Shar cried with relief, “Oh, Jayk. Forgive me! Is anyone hurt?”
“Xyn’s got some burns and he’s out cold, but Tym could be bad. He collapsed fighting a Psi-fight with someone up North, Shar. He doesn’t look good.”
“Hunter,” Shar asked without hesitation, “Can you feel anything? How is his Mind?”
“That’s just it, my Lady,” the Hunter replied over the open channel running through the Mutants pilfered satellite, “I tried that. There’s not much there. It’s like he’s an empty shell. I didn’t want to alarm the others. I was rather busy at the time, but from what I could pick up on, Xyn and Tym were both in one hell of a fight with some Psion.”“I know where Tym is, then,” she stated confidently. “Are Xyn’s wounds all physical?”
“They are,” the Hunter confirmed as his Psi swept the two unconscious ones again.
“Don’t wake Xyn, then. Go to his Mind, Hunter. Tell him to go to the wild place where the waters are blue. There will he find Tym, and only he can bring him back. IF he can be brought back. If their fight was as bad as you say, Hunter, it may be too late for them.”
“Xyn’s tougher than that!” Jayk disagreed, sitting cross-legged on the floor with Xyn’s bald head in his lap. “He’ll find Tym and bring him back. I know he can!”
“We shall see,” Shar said.
Very softly, Jayk leaned down and kissed Xyn’s forehead. He then reached over and took Tym’s small and held it in his own with Xyn’s. His eyes went wide for a moment, then he relaxed.
“What is it?” Kefe demanded.
“I can hear him,” Jayk smiled. He’s there. Where we were. In that place in his Mind. The safe place where everything is right and you can rest. He’s writing, like he’s trying to save something special.”
Then Jayk bowed his head, still holding their hands as the crafts flew on towards the Ruins.
“What is he saying?” Chriss asked from up front, studying his injured hand as the craft cruised on automatic. Beside him sat Adam with ‘R’ in his lap, scanning the skies with their instruments and eyes.

“’Come away oh human child …’” Jayk began, but paused. “It’s a very old poem I read to Xyn one night when he first came and saw all my books …”

The sky was a deep cobalt blue with only a few puffy, white clouds gliding by high above the soft and green grass. A warm and gentle wind blew, rippling the waters of the huge lake just off behind the great tree that was all decked out in the botanical finery of Colorfall. Birds came and went from its mighty limbs, singing and dipping into the grass as other small wild things ran here and there past the little one who sat leaning up against the rough bark with a book in his lap and a quill in his hand.

The breeze blew past him, through him somehow, it felt. He wrote quickly, his fine penmanship drawing ornate letters in the leather-bound volume in his lap that was almost bigger than he was. His eyes and hair were pale, and his skin was a very white color with a rosy glow to it. The grass and earth were soft and warm under his naked skin, and he dug his toes into the loose dirt as he wrote. He smiled as he heard the grass rustle and looked up.
Someone was coming.

The other approached him quickly, running through the tall grass with the wind whistling in his small, round ears. His head was bald, and his naked skin darker. His eyes were fixed upon the naked little one under the great tree, but those eyes were haunted. He stopped just in front of the little writer and smiled down at him, reaching a hand out to him.

The little one shook his head, and the older one sat down beside him to pull him close and hold him as he wrote.

“Nice book.”
“Thank you,” the little replied politely, still writing and smiling at his friend.
“What are you writing?”
“Something for you.”
“Why?”
The little one thought for a moment, scratching his ear with the quill that never needed ink. “So you remember it all,” he mused.
His friend smiled back. “You always did like long stories and old things,” he replied, “What’s it about?”
“Us.”

The older one raised an eyebrow as the wind blew a bit harder, sending a shower of brightly colored leaves down upon them. Somewhere out in the lake, a fish jumped and the birds continued to sing high above their heads. He noticed that the wind was just a bit cooler as he pulled the little one closer.

“I don’t want you to forget,” the little one said in a firm tone.
“Forget? Me? Forget what?”
He looked up at his friend, the only friend that he’d ever really had and trusted, and smiled sadly.
“But why so sad?” His friend asked, puzzled.

The little one sighed heavily as another gust of wind, stronger this time, brought down more leaves on them. The wind was much colder this time, and they shivered as they held each other. The little one wrote down a few more lines, amazingly fast, and then began to cry. His tears fell upon the last blank page of the book as he closed it.

“I knew you’d find me here,” he whispered, leaning his pale head upon his friend’s chest and smiling.
“Yes,” his friend mused, rubbing his head as he kissed his small ear, “But it’s getting cold. What say we go back?”
But the little one shook his head as he stared up into his friend’s eyes. “I’m not going back, Xyn.”

“What?!”
The little one closed his eyes and rubbed them. “I’m too tired.”

“Tym?”
“It was too much, Xyn. The fight. I’m hurt, back there where we really are. I’m hurt bad, and no one can save me. Not even you.”
“How bad?” Xyn replied, almost panicking and bringing his Psi to bear. His Mind slipped into Tym’s, and the pain struck him hard. He shook his head, gritting his teeth.

“Oh, gods no! But it’s just a little bump on the head! How can that … how can it … It’s not THAT bad!” Xyn cried, clutching Tym tighter, as if his very touch could somehow make it right again. Then he pulled back a bit and stared into the little one’s somber face. “You knew this would happen!”
Tym nodded.
“The first blast hit me in the visor, Xyn. And I was holding that other Mind off for a long time. He was strong, but he didn’t understand me. He was too busy hating me for that.”
Tym coughed, but went on.
“We never named me, did we? I’m not a Psion, you guys all said. You thought I was more, or something new. But I’m all worn out, Xyn,” he explained, handing him the heavy book, “I’m so very tired.”

“What’s in here?” Xyn choked, his tears finally spilling down his smooth cheeks. Tym reached up a small hand and touched them, one at a time.
“Everything I know, I guess,” he replied. “Nothing HERE is really what it seems. Think of the book as my Mind, my Memories. I could pass them to others, you know, like I did when I met you and forced you here by accident. Or like I did to scare Shar. But this book is ME, Xyn. It’s how I feel, what I think, maybe even all that I am. Or all that I was. It’s all in there.”
Xyn shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t take it, Tym! In this place, if it is what you say it is, taking it might kill you!”
Then Tym shook HIS head. “I’m dying anyway,” he said softly, snuggling into Xyn’s warm body and rubbing his soft hair on his chest. “Just hold me for a little bit.”

And Xyn did just that.

The wind blew colder as he held his little friend, the only one who’d seen him in the months after his castration and the lonely time that he’d spent running the Ruins in his desperate longing for Jayk. The only one who’d been able to comfort him, the only one that he could face. The one to whom he’d read a story every night, teaching him, in turn, to read. The one he’d woken up with in his bed every morning, yet shared only his Mind and chaste cuddling with.

The one who’d saved him from madness.

The leaves continued to fall upon them as they sat in the green grass and as the sun dipped low into the West, coloring the unending sky with purples and oranges and reds and yellows that dazzled their eyes. Finally, the wind became uncomfortably cold as they clung to each other. They held the large book between them in their laps, holding hands atop the leather covering where the letters “T-Y-M” were etched in ornate golden script.

A leaf landed upon their clasped hands, and they looked up.

The great tree was naked as well, all its fine colors gone. Gray clouds were beginning to fill the blue sky, and the wind was picking up with a biting chill. They shivered more, but neither of them moved as the grass turned brown and dry. Tym felt Xyn’s smooth skin on his own, warm and darker than his was. Xyn felt Tym’s soft and pale mop of hair against his chest, and the little one reached up to place a small hand firmly atop his bald head. He smiled at him, and Xyn saw that the slight magenta glow was gone from his cheeks and that his gray and colorless eyes were tired and haunted.

He opened his mouth to speak, and a snowflake fell. It landed on Tym’s nose, lingered a moment, then melted.

Tym closed his eyes and sighed.

“Xyn,” he said in a voice barely audible.
“Yes?” Xyn answered, holding him tightly and rubbing his back.

“Thank you.”
“For what?” Xyn asked through his tears.
“For finding me. For feeding me. For not leaving me. For not hating me when you found out what kind of Mutant I was. For not being afraid of me. For giving me a home,” Tym gasped, his breath coming in ragged and labored little puffs. Then, with a great effort, he opened his mouth to speak again.

“And for loving me.”

Xyn bent down and placed his mouth over Tym’s, kissing him, as if somehow his breath could forestall what the little Mutant had predicted. Tym’s lips were cold as his own warm ones moved over them. He did not, however, recoil. He savored the moment, letting his aching Psi wash into Tym’s Mind as it began to finally shut down. In his free hand, he clutched the book as he supported his little friend with the other. The wind picked up again, and a thick cloud of snow suddenly blew down from the sky to dust the green grass in white and chill the two laying under the tree.

When Xyn pulled back, he was almost blind from the combination of snow and his own tears. He took one last look at the face that he’d first seen on the very first stolen Transport ship in the Ruins, long before he’d become the person known as Xyn Psion - Heir to the Unifier, and was himself a frightened and lost little one without so much as even a real name.

His heart broke as Tym drew in what Xyn knew to be his last breath.

“I love you, Xyn.”

Xyn held him tightly, rocking him back and forth as the snow continued to fall. He shivered, but Tym was still and unmoving in his strong arms. He kissed his forehead, and noticed the bump there.

“I love you, too Tym.”

Very slowly, Tym’s graying lips turned upwards in a smile; then he lay very still.

The cold soaked into Xyn’s very Being as he held his friend, rocking his small and unmoving form back and forth and staring at the beautiful book in their laps. The snow blanketed them, the sky darkened and became speckled with stars, but Xyn did not feel it as he held the small body against his. He cried for a long time, alone in that wild place near the waters, until the sun came back up and the snows stopped and the winds turned warm once again. When he finally felt the soft, green grass brushing against his leg and smelled the fragrance of the magenta blossoms of the great tree, he gently laid his little friend at its base in a clump of tiny, white flowers that opened into bloom before his very eyes. His hands never left the small boy, nor the book as he knelt there.

He blinked, unable to stop the tears. It seemed as if he’d been crying for so very long, but yet they would not stop. He clenched his eyes shut, shaking his head and whining in grief. He scanned as far as he could with his powerful Psi, amazed at its regeneration, but there was no one else there. He felt the cool and delicate skin under his hands, but when he looked back, there was only the supple leather cover of the large book that he held tightly. He pulled it close to his chest and bowed his head. The sweet smelling white flowers waved in the breeze, and as the tree began to unfurl its leaves and shower him with magenta blossoms, Xyn turned to go.

He left the waters and the wild, and left a piece of his broken heart there under the tree.

He never returned.

Goodbye, Tym, he called out to the safe place where they’d once taken refuge, but no one answered him.

High above the eastern seaboard and speeding back towards the Ruins, the craft dodged a trio of patrol ships that had somehow detected it. The New Cities below them were dark, and there were no signs of life on the streets. It almost looked like the Ruins, only newer. It seemed as if everyone had taken the advice of the Authority and holed up.

“Authority craft,” Chriss called over the main communication channel, “Break off your pursuit or be destroyed. Our mission is not your concern,” he advised, hoping that they’d buy the markings of the stolen craft.
They didn’t.
“Unidentified craft,” they responded, “Your vessel is reported stolen. Land immediately or we will open fire.”

“Fuck them,” Jayk growled. “Get ‘em, Adam!”
“WITH pleasure!”

Adam and ‘R’ knocked two of them down as Chriss set fire to the third. His evasive movements of the craft jostled those in the back, and Kefe began to swear.

“What is it?” Chriss called back, hearing the noises from the small medical instruments and Kefe’s and Jayk’s oaths and curses.

“Tym’s not breathing!” Kefe cried. “I can’t find a pulse!” There was furious beeping from one of the handheld scanners. “His vitals are crashing!”

“Why?” Chriss shouted back to them.
“I don’t know,” Kefe called back. “He was dozing, then everything just stopped!”

Beside them, as they worked furiously to revive the little one, Xyn moaned and sat up slowly. He blinked several times, trying to get his bearings, then turned to watch them working on Tym for only a second.

“Let him go,” he said in a gentle voice, pulling his blanket tighter around himself and shaking.

Jayk and Kefe paused to face him, shaking their heads. From the front, Chriss and Adam craned their necks to watch as the craft flew in auto mode again. Kefe had slapped a small neuro-stimulator to Tym’s brow and was preparing to shock him.

”Let him go,” Xyn repeated, holding his arms strangely in front of himself as if he were carrying something, “Please.”
Jayk looked deep into Xyn’s eyes, and without watching, he moved his hand to stay Kefe’s move to shock Tym’s heart back into beating. He shook his head, taking Xyn’s hand in his other.

There were no words as Kefe nodded and pulled the blanket up over Tym’s small face. He turned off the medical scanners and repacked the kit. Then the Nightstalker got up and went up front with his two friends to leave Xyn and Jayk alone in the back of the craft. They had waited for so long to be together again, and it was a private moment. He closed the divider between the front and the back seats and knelt between Adam and Chriss. His eyes were not glowing as he sniffed. ‘R’ looked at him and sighed heavily as Adam rested his chin on the little one’s shoulder. No one spoke.

They simply stared into one another’s eyes, taking in the sight. It had been so long, with only brief Psionic contacts over the past Cycle and random assurances from Tym that everything was fine. Very slowly, their hands began to explore one another, touching here and there. They were both familiar, yet different. There were subtle changes in Jayk the Slow Mutant, and major changes in Xyn. Jayk was taller, a bit more muscular, and Xyn was much more so. Jayk touched him. Xyn touched back. Hands explored familiar features, new features, and Xyn helped Jayk remove his ‘clothing’, as it were.

Jayk was fairly much the same, but Xyn was not.

He was also an e-XY.

Jayk slowly pulled the blanket back, letting it fall, his long-fingered hand moving to touch the well-healed wound under Xyn’s penis. It twitched, swelled a bit, and Jayk looked up to smile at him. His fangs flashed at him, and Xyn forced a smile. He sniffled, and then suddenly pulled Jayk into a long-awaited embrace. Once again, they became Xyn/Jayk as Xyn merged their Minds as their bodies pressed together. It was warm and comforting, and the part of him that was Xyn desperately needed that comfort.

No tears?
Just can’t cry anymore.
Wish I’d known him better.
I knew him. We knew him.
He watched.
We know.
He pushed too hard.
He’s gone.
We know.
He did it for us. ALL of us.

‘No greater love hath any man than this …
… That he lay down his life for another.’

Read that to him one night.
He loved bedtime stories.
He was sick for a long time. Hated being in bed.
Alone.
He liked the big bed.
Where he wasn’t alone.
Our bed.
He kept me from going mad.
I know.
We know.

They pulled back just a bit, still one Mind staring back and forth into two sets of eyes. For the moment, it was enough to just hold one another and be lost in each other’s Minds. Xyn found that he longed for the pleasures that Jayk had taught him, but also realized that he hadn’t thought about those pleasures for a long time. Jayk smiled and nodded. “It’s like that for us. You know about it, you like it when it happens, but you don’t NEED it all the time. You think you can still … uh?” Jayk’s face flushed and he grinned a silly grin, “You know…?”
Xyn smiled back at him. “I think I can!”
And with that, they separated just a bit.

“I want to go home,” Jayk said aloud.
“So do I,” Xyn replied. “I just want to go home and go to bed and stay there!”
“I want to go back to my room and stay there for a LONG time!” Jayk added.
“I kept it warm for you.”
Jayk nodded. “I know you moved into it, with Tym.”
Xyn nodded, almost shyly. “He needed someone…” he began to explain, but Jayk shook his head, rustling his braids. The sound sent a shiver down Xyn’s spine.
“I understand. It looked like I was gone for good and…”
“No, Jayk, I didn’t …”
Jayk looked puzzled.
“I shared your bed – our bed – with him, but I didn’t …”
“Never?”
Xyn shook his head. “It wasn’t right. He was too little. And besides, like you said, I didn’t think about it much since after I got …”
But Jayk raised a finger to Xyn’s lips, touching them to signal him that he’d said enough as the craft sped back towards the Ruins. Towards home.

They followed the Hunter’s craft down to refuel at the same place where he’d stopped on the way to the rendezvous. No one had secured the fuel depot, and it looked as if no one cared. The small town nearby was quiet, and several of the buildings showed signs of looting and fire damage. Everyone was either in hiding – or gone. Only the Hunter and Abrams disembarked, refueling the craft quickly. As he refueled the Outcasts’ craft, he sent a thought to Xyn.
I saw pink-purple blossoms falling from a big tree, the Hunter told him, Gods, Xyn, I’m so sorry!

Thank you, Xyn sent back, and the Hunter could feel his loss. Even with Jayk at his side once again, Xyn was unhappy and overrun with grief. The Hunter shook his head as he climbed back into his craft and they took to the skies again.

“Will we ever be happy?” he muttered, “Will it ever end?”
“Pardon?” Abrams asked.
“Tym didn’t make it,” The Hunter informed him.
Abrams said nothing. He turned his head to stare out the window and thought about Xyn as the Hunter followed Chriss into high cruise and the cabin vacuum-sealed with a great hiss. There was nothing on the Newsfeeds but a blank screen, and the Networks were still offline.

The sight over New City Main was very different as they descended through the clouds. They had not stopped to rest, and daylight was just beginning to fade. As the crafts did their best to blend in with the colors of the surrounding sky, they all looked down and gasped.

Below them was a nightmare.

Authority and Government craft circled the New City, and several more were fending off an attack from appeared to be indistinct shapes at the perimeter where the suburbs began. The shapes fired upon the Authority ships, and they fired back. The impending sunset was marred by weapons fire and smoke, and a good size part of the New City’s upper north end was burning. In the parts that were as yet unscathed, they all noticed something odd.

Not one single light was on.

“Oh shit, he finally pulled it off!” Dan breathed, leaning over to stare out the window at the destruction all around them.
“Who did what?” the Hunter demanded. “Fill me in, Dan. This is NOT a good time for secrets.”
“Duncan-2, the main processor of Mom’s computer system Kel built. He was going to try and crash the Continental Power Grids right before the attack.”
“Attack?” Abrams barked, “Attack? As in who’s attacking whom?”
Dan shrugged. “Us against them. WE knew it was coming. Didn’t you?”
“The Dealer mentioned it,” Abrams agreed, “But I thought there’d be more time.”
“We always do,” The Hunter said sadly.
Abrams shook his head. “Without the Continental Power Grids, everything’s down! No Facilities, no Maintenance Centers! No Networks, and no way to coordinate anything!”

Then he thought for a moment as a wave of Government craft went after a mass of indistinct shapes heading in for a fresh assault. The shapes began to coalesce as they drew closer and closer to the City. Finally, as their own craft began to head back up to avoid the fighting, the forms solidified into assault craft much like Chriss was flying. Of those crafts, about a quarter of them made it through the line of Authority and Government defense forces and began dropping bombs on the New City. They flew at breakneck speeds, letting go unbelievable amounts of destructive payload. Below them, buildings exploded into clouds of dust and rubble and fell to take others out with them.

“Ironic how they seem to be using the Governments’ own weapon against them,” Abrams mused. “The Dealer told me about a ‘Duncan-2’ that he knew. A little one they were building to be a Leader; a Leader who allegedly died.”
Dan shook his head. “I don’t know about all that, but Kel brought Duncan to us a while back, even before Xyn came.”
Abrams shook his head, and the Hunter grunted. “Be glad WE have Xyn and NOT them!”

On Abrams’ lap, Edward IV had closed his eyes and was moaning softly. “Make it stop,” he whined, and the Hunter instantly knew his pain. He cursed himself for not paying attention and slipped his lagging Psi into the little one’s to block the waves of pain and panic that were assailing him from the City below. Edward closed his eyes and seemed to go to sleep.

“He doesn’t need to see that now.”
“None of us do,” Abrams countered.

Suddenly the communications system came to life. A small and metallic voice was giving orders to the various craft, and it paused to address the two incoming craft. “Prodigal son and Seeker, return at once! The Lady awaits.” Then the channel closed.

“The Seeker would be you,” Dan said to the Hunter.
The Hunter grunted, opening a channel to Chriss’s craft.
“Did you know this was going to happen?” he demanded.
“I suspected it, yes,” the young Pyro Mutant replied.
“Great,” the Hunter replied sarcastically.
“Hey, it wasn’t MY idea!” Chriss retorted. “I figured it would happen, but NOW isn’t really a good time for it!”
“I need to speak with Shar!”
“She’s busy,” Dan stated, “I can hear her. The ground forces are preparing to cross the Flats in stolen land rovers.”
The Hunter swore again.

”This is all my fault, Xyn suddenly told them all. I must put a stop to this.

Abrams gasped. “And just what do you plan on doing about it, Xyn?” he asked in a panicked voice.

“I’m not sure,” Xyn’s voice replied over the channel, “But from what I have gathered, and what that other Mind to the Far North told me, the Government wants me. They made me. There are things I do not yet know, but I can FEEL that it all revolves around me and a sense of Order. If it’s ME they want, they I’ll go to them.”

“There’s no guarantee that they’d stop, Xyn!” Jayk’s anguished voice broke in. “What makes you think they won’t just Exterminate you – AND us?”

“They won’t,” Abrams replied, and everyone fell silent as the cruised on over the destruction below them as the Approveds and Unapproveds went to bloody war.

Tell me, Xyn whispered in Abrams’ Mind, and the former Facility Director remembered that familiar touch. He sighed and nodded.

“You weren’t just left at my Facility, as you were lead to believe, Xyn,” he began, “You were created. Specially created from a Bio-sample that had been stored for Deca-Cycles. It was almost nonviable, but it worked. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, Xyn, but somehow I think I should be THAT one.” He paused.

Everyone waited as more forces from both sides engaged in battle below them as they sped away from the New City Main and towards the Forests.

“Some men from the Government came to well-known Dealer with many connections. One of his connections was me. The Dealer found an XX to impregnate with the specially prepared Bio-sample. She became with child – YOU, Xyn. When you were born, they killed her. I won’t hide the truth from you any longer. The Dealer took care of you for a short time, then he was ordered to bring you to a Facility to grow up,” Abrams continued, holding the sleeping Edward in his lap.

“Once there, you joined the ranks of all the other little Inmates. You didn’t get Parted out nor adopted, however. I wanted you, Xyn. I wanted to take you with me, away from that place. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I had to stay. No one else cared the way I did, I suppose. I thought I was making a difference, but I was just a pawn. Had the fire not happened and you hadn’t wandered off, you wouldn’t be here now. You’d have never seen the Ruins, nor met Jayk. None of this would have happened.”

“The other Mind was very much upset with me telling it that I was an e-XY,” Xyn said. “Why is that? What was its concern with me and my Descendents?” Xyn asked, sitting on the floor of the craft and holding onto Jayk very tightly.

Abrams sighed. “The Dealer told me much, Xyn. I never knew, I swear. I wanted you cloned, Xyn. If I couldn’t have YOU, I’d have something like YOU, at least. But they denied it. I couldn’t figure out why until he told me a few nights ago. You’re a clone, Xyn. A clone born of an XX, but your life began in a test sample container. I suppose we should call you ‘Kadens-2 Psion’ instead of ‘zin’, that little nickname I gave you so long ago. Hail, Kadens-2 and Heir to the Unification,” Abrams finished.

There were amazed whistles and gasps, and Jayk stared at Xyn in wonder as the New City far below and behind them burned and crumbled under the assault of the Unapproveds and assorted Outcasts rising up from the Ruins like Death Himself.

Xyn’s jaw dropped, and his eyes shifted from gray to blue to a swirling mix of color that Jayk had never seen before. Very slowly, almost in awe, the ancient Slow Mutant reached up and touched Xyn’s smooth cheek.

“Don’t worry, I still love you!” He exclaimed loudly, and Xyn jumped. He then smiled, but it was not a smile of mirth. It was a wry grin of a Fate unavoidable, accepted, as Xyn reached down to feel between his legs.

“Then I am the last,” he stated flatly. “One cannot clone a clone. I understand now.”

He then began reaching out with his Psi. He located Shar, and busy as she was, she acknowledged him. You have succeeded!

Jayk is with me, Xyn informed her, But one little one does not return to us.

For an instant, Shar’s Psi sent panic, then sorrow. He would never tell me, she replied, her Psi full of grief. But this Other finally took him?

His long Psionic battle, and a blaster shot to the head at close range, Xyn told her with a lump rising in his throat as he looked over at the blanketed form. But there is so much more. I am not who I appear to be, Shar. I may not be able to return to you.

He then began to open his Mind to her, feeding her Mind the information that he had just learned about himself. In the instant that he was done, he felt Shar’s amazement.

And what will you do then, Kadens-2 and Unifier Reborn? The New War rages, here in the East and in the West as well. We cannot stop it now, we have committed. Were we to falter, the Approveds would overrun us. Our constant attack with their stolen weapons and our Mutant Abilities is our only chance. We must not let up, lest we be destroyed once and for all. I never wished this, believe me. But they have left US no other choice.

Xyn cringed at the new form of address, finding that he did not like it much. It carried a great deal of weight, and his shoulders slumped as Jayk held him. Were it only so simple, he sent to them both. Would that I could simply vanish into the Ruins and close the door with only Jayk and our books and our runs through the old towers. But that is not to be, he admitted sadly, watching the small figure of the Lady with the Torch and Book becoming larger and larger just ahead of them.

Then he felt Shar’s Mind literally jump as she received news from the Psions in the ships attacking the New City Main. “The battle turns,” her voice came over the communications channel, “Duncan cannot hold off the efforts of repair that the Approveds are making. They have restored power!”

From high above them, down through the very clouds, a thick beam of blazing red light descended. It struck the Flats and threw a huge explosion of dirt into the air.

“Comm-Tell is back up!” Shar cried. “The orbital defenses are rebooting!”

Chriss switched on a monitor on the craft’s console, as did the Hunter in his own, and they saw the lights of the New City beginning to light up the darkening sky behind them. Another small screen filled with images of ‘talking heads’, reporting on the battle. The air above the City was filled with smoke and the small lights of the fighting ships that dodged here and there and fired upon one another. All of the Psions could feel the welter of emotions coming from that battle, and Xyn stood up. His blanket fell to the floor, and he stretched. Jayk gasped, staring at his carefully toned and maintained e-XY form.

“I need a new suit of body armor,” Xyn snapped, “And a blaster. Chriss,” he ordered in uncharacteristic heat, “Come in tight to the Lady of the Flats. Adam, I need for you to flatten off the highest of the spikes on her great crown. Can you do that?”

Adam’s eyes were wide, but he nodded and focused his Bomber abilities to a fine edge. As Chriss swung the craft about with the Hunter’s veering down, then away towards the Ruins, the young Bomber Mutant neatly flattened the top spike of that crown smooth. A bit of smoking rubble fell away from it, and the surface he revealed looked smooth and new.

“Give a guy a title and he goes nuts,” Chriss joked.

“Xyn, what are we doing?” Jayk asked, their Minds no longer joined.

But Xyn shook his head, dressing himself as Adam stripped off his own armor and handed it to him piece by piece. “I am going alone,” he told Jayk in a calm tone as the torso piece adapted itself to his body. “I have a plan.”

“I’m going with you!” Jayk informed him.

Xyn shook his bald head, putting on the helmet. His hand lingered on the visor, then he pulled Jayk close and kissed him rather seriously on the mouth; he deftly avoided the fangs as Jayk returned his kiss in surprise. Another beam of red light shot down from the sky, igniting the Brushline.

“WILL you two stop that!?” Chriss called. “They’re targeting the Ruins! They know if they can knock it out, and the Old City, that we’ll probably fall! Time’s running out, Xyn! Whatever you’re gonna do, DO IT NOW!”

Xyn then pulled away from Jayk and opened his Mind to Chriss. The Pyro’s jaw dropped, but he nodded dumbly. He then carefully made the craft hover very closely over the Lady of the Flat’s crown that Adam had shaved off square. He couldn’t get as close as he wanted, with the winds buffeting the small assault craft. It was still a long drop as he hovered. A small escape hatch then opened in the floor at Chriss’ command, and Xyn held up a gloved hand. His other held the hilt of his blaster. “Pick out a book and keep the chair warm for me,” he told Jayk.

He then stepped backward and fell through the hatch, landing on his feet as his armor absorbed the shock.

Chriss carefully moved the craft away as a proximity alarm went off. Dead astern, another small assault craft was closing upon them, its fuel all but exhausted. It fired several times, and one of the blasts sheared away several of the protective hull plating tiles near the engines. Xyn looked up, feeling Adam’s Will building again as Chriss moved away slowly so that the exhaust from their engines would not blow him off of his perch. He shook his head and drew his blaster as Abrams’ hard-used craft came about to defend them. Fast as they were, Xyn was fast. He aimed the blaster, focusing his Psi upon the pilot and Adam as well. Just the canopy, he sent to the young Bomber, who ripped it off deftly. Xyn then opened fire, vaporizing the pilot. The craft veered sharply up and back, then tumbled to explode on the Flats at the Lady’s feet.

High overhead, the atmosphere began to ionize with the bursts of radiant energy of the Comm-Tell System’s weapons. Clouds began to gather, and the winds picked up and stirred them. Lightning began to flash with rolling thunders, and the Storm gathered strength as another bolt struck the Brushline, very close to the edges of the Ruins. Jayk screamed as Chriss went to maximum acceleration, but Kefe knocked him down and sedated him as they made for safety with Abrams’ craft right behind them.

He watched them go.

Standing alone atop the crown of the Lady of the Flats, Xyn watched the gathering Storm overhead; unsure of what to do, he stared at the huge moon that had risen. Another bolt of energy rained down from the Comm-Tell satellite, staining the moon red as he stared while the wind whistled around him. He gasped in surprise as the bolt of energy tore up another huge chunk of earth, and he watched as the moon slowly returned to its normal coloration. For some reason, it seemed angry, almost raging, and he wasn’t sure that he didn’t feel the same way. He come so far, sacrificed so much, and as he stood atop that ancient Lady’s neatly beveled crown, he wondered whether or not if in the end, any of it would really matter.

He’d never felt so alone in all of his short life.

He turned after a bit to watch a Storm of another kind back to the East. He could feel the Minds of the battling Approveds and Outcasts. He could feel the Minds of the Authority and Government Troops. And he could feel the Minds, filled with fright, of the innocent Civilians in the New City as the Unapproveds did their best to lay it waste as the Approveds fought to get their defenses back online.

They don’t understand, he thought, almost wanting to cry but finding that he could not. They didn’t want this to happen. They didn’t know this could happen. All they did was to follow the status quo, believing it to be right. The Approveds must not be held accountable for the crimes of the Government under Kadens’ Descendents. Surely a few of them, but not the little ones or their parents.
Did we learn nothing from the BioGenic Wars? Was not the near-Extermination of Mankind not enough of an object lesson? Must it be repeated? Why?

And what of the Unapproveds, the Outcasts of Kadens’ Society? Is it too much to ask for equal treatment? How are they so different, in that they aren’t allowed all the luxuries or the lifespan? Why are they treated so differently, and why are the Approveds so surprised to learn of it? How could they not expect a Revolt?

Xyn shook his head, his helmet rubbing at his bald scalp. He made sure his visor was down, and then tried something that he’d never really done before.

He began to feel vast and without form again as he let his Psi loose. Sweat began to drip inside of his body armor, which held the wind at bay. He let it range over the Flats, his Mind’s eye seeing the Ruins and the Old City, and the New City as well. He saw the fighting, felt the panic, and he took it all in. He assimilated it, and he drew strength from it. Very slowly, as the lightning danced from cloud to cloud above him and the ships fired upon one another and bombs fell upon the Innocents, Xyn Psion slipped into every single Mind that he encountered.

He felt what they felt, and he reassured him. He called upon that gift that the other Mind had told him that he had. He remembered the battle over Tym, and he recalled the love that had come – unbidden - the first time that he’d seen him. He let that love flow out of him at that moment, once he felt that he’d insinuated himself into enough Minds for it to work.

You seem to have this strange ability to love, and to be loved, someone had told him before.

He felt the battle slow a bit, and he felt confusion. What is this? the millions of Minds seemed to wonder at once. Who are you?

Then he thought of the grief he’d felt when he’d laid Tym to rest at the roots of the great tree in their own private wild place near the waters. He sent this image to them all, waited for a moment to catch his breath, and then projected his grief and suffering as he’d turned to go. He opened his eyes and looked down at his empty hands.

He saw a Book there – a supple leather-bound Volume with gold letters on the cover.

Lightning struck somewhere very near the Lady, and he fell to his knees. In his Mind, however, he held tightly to that Book and stared at it. He let what he felt flow into the Minds that he had reached, continuing to search for more. He began to tremble, his Psi threatening to overload and shut down, when he heard a scraping sound. His eyes began to close just then, in exhaustion. There were too many of them. Again, the sound – but he didn’t care. If the Lady was hit or fell over, what did it matter?

It was simply too much for him, and he didn’t know what to do with them all now that he had them. His grip upon them was tenuous at best, and he was so tired. His back hurt, the burns from the blaster wound that torn open his body armor beginning to sting again as the ointment that Jayk and Kefe applied to it began to wear off. He sank to his knees.

I’ve failed, he thought sadly to himself, desperately wanting to just lie down. I’ve failed and Humanity will destroy itself over these sins of the past.

Suddenly there were hands – large hands – lifting him up. Through the confused welter of the emotions of millions of other Minds, Xyn opened his eyes to see a helmet with visor down staring back at him. He reached for his blaster and gasped, losing his link to tens of thousands of Others. And then he heard a familiar voice through the cacophony of confusion that he’d created, briefly lulling the battle.

No, Xyn. You can’t give up. Not now.

The visor of the one who held him slid open, and Xyn stared into the face of The Hunter.

I told them I’d catch you! He exulted, his smile broad and his Psi blazing as he hoisted a rapidly tiring Xyn up onto his armored shoulders. He bounced him a few times, much like a proud Father would his own little one. Xyn’s helmet rattled a bit, and he laughed as the Hunter’s hand firmly held his. His Psi slipped into Xyn’s, and the young Mutant felt himself restored.

“How did YOU get here?” Xyn cried, his head beginning to spin as he looked down.

“Don’t DO that!” The Hunter advised. “Just keep doing what you’re doing. It’s working, Xyn! Just think about Tym. Think about Jayk. Think about what that other Mind told you – WHY it wanted you! Use what they gave you. Use that inborn ability of yours. Don’t think about stopping them, Xyn, that’s the key! Just concentrate on this – why did you ‘adopt’ Tym? Why did you go after Jayk? Why did the others go with you?”

“And above all else – Why did Tym lay down his life for all of us?”

And once again, even though he’d thought he’d run out of tears, Xyn Psion, who would later come to be called ‘Kadens-2, The New Unifier’, began to cry. Not only his eyes wept, but also his Psi wept as well as he stared down at the precious Book he held in his shaking hands. His Mind was full of the horrors going on below them, in the air above them, and the panic that everyone involved felt. They were not, however, tears of sadness and personal grief; they were tears of sympathy and of hope.

It didn’t matter that only he could see the Book. It didn’t matter because every Mind that he touched COULD see it as his Psi swelled and simply overran them. And they could feel it. Very gently, he opened that Book and turned to the first page.

Rain began to fall as his Mind began to read to them all. The battling crafts above the New City stopped and simply hovered. Out on the Storm-raked Flats, the converging ground forces all stopped and parked. As it had in that wild place where he’d gone with Jayk and later with Tym, Time itself lost all meaning. Xyn himself lost all meaning as well as his Mind read from the Book. And through it all, he thought of how much he loved his friends and everything that they’d done for this little stranger who’d come straggling into the Forest one night so long ago.

When he’d finished, Xyn closed the Book and stared at it. His Psi felt a massive wave of relief passing over them all. There was confusion, regret, but most of all – there was trust. No weapons were firing, no bombs were falling, and the ground forces had never even met.

The thunder rumbled off into the distance, and the Storm began to break up. No more beams of angry red light fired down from the sky, and only the smoke rising up from the New City Main could be seen in the dim light of the last flickers of lightning. The Hunter lowered Xyn, who raised his visor and smiled weakly.

“I think you did it,” he said softly, pulling him close.
“What are YOU doing here?” Xyn asked, his voice hardly a whisper as he stared into the Hunter’s strange face.

“You were created for a reason, Kadens-2. And I was created to protect you. Funny, isn’t it? When Abrams announced your true Identity, something clicked over in my head. I think it must have been implanted in my Upgraded Approved chips to trigger at a set time. I couldn’t leave you here alone to face this. Face it, son, you’re stuck with me.”

Xyn thought for a moment, his Mind all but exhausted. It didn’t make much sense, but it was a bit late in the game to question him.

“Please, don’t call me that,” he groaned, as his head slumped down to rest upon the Hunter’s shoulder and he fell asleep in his arms.

His soft boots made almost no sound on the old tiled floor as he made his way down the long underground corridor. There was only one thing on his mind, now that he’d returned from his trip and rested. After the short War that he’d stopped, he’d slept for weeks in the Infirmary; he’d awakened only now and then to find someone hovering over his bed with a worried look on his or her face. Many times, it had been the face of the man who’d raised him. It seemed that he was always there, had always been there, and always would be. Oftentimes he wondered if he were dreaming, thinking that he could hear him reading stories and holding is hand.

He smiled as he thought of them all and everything they’d done together. He wondered at what he’d done, at what he was, and even WHY he’d done it.

Shar had reunited with her son, Dan. Kefe the Nightstalker had promised not to expose him to any more bad habits, after their ghastly account of the raid on Wilson’s house. Adam and Chriss had taken ‘R’ in, and Rick Abrams had – after a great deal of Maintenance and Repairs, adapted to life in the Ruins. It had been a close call at first, but the Adult had pulled through the various Leftovers and Remnants that had attacked him upon his arrival. He’d taken up residence just down the hall from Xyn’s room, and he spent a great deal of time in deep philosophical discussion with Shar and Duncan-2. Dan and Edward IV became the best of friends, and much to Abram’s and Shar’s dismay, they took to hanging out with Kefe at night as he patrolled the rooftops.

And then there was the Hunter, who almost never left his side.

He paused for a moment as he thought of the little one who hadn’t come back, and his step was a bit slower when he finally continued. He’d tried so hard not to think about it. They’d buried him in the Forest once the opposing forces had all gone home, under a great tree near a blue berry bush. He remembered it, as he would for the rest of life. They’d shared so much, he and that strange little Mutant that they’d never put a proper title to. There had been musings for thousands of Cycles, he’d read, about the Soul of a person. That somehow, even though the carnal body was in death, the Soul lived on in some better place. Yet as hard as he’d tried, scanning the Forests and beyond that day, he’d not been able to find it. He’d been to a better Place himself, with him, and that had been where he’d died.

He was almost sick with guilt as he walked on down the corridor.
His Mind was a carefully guarded place now, and he thought to himself alone, I did it. I had to do it. I was created to do it. Maybe so that no other little ones will ever have to grow up like he did. But he sighed, trying to convince himself that he was right. He shook his head and rubbed at the fuzz there, making a mental note to find some more gel and shaking his leg now and then as he walked. He still wasn’t used to how he felt when he walked, but at least he wasn’t wearing armor.

In the New City Main, and in all of the others, the fires had been put out and the Authority reorganized. The Facilities had all been shut down, and the little Inmates sent to Maintenance Centers for Upgrading and Restorations – and later Adoptions. In the Old Cities, the same was happening for the masses of Unapproveds. Very suddenly, there was work to be done and not enough workers to do it all. There were Resources to be found, redistributed, and a massive breakdown of Arms for Recycling. There was also a great deal of rebuilding to do.

None of this mattered to the one who walked down the corridor at that very moment, however. It could all wait. There were others to oversee the efforts; others that knew that the instigator of these changes could check in upon them from more than half a World away, if need be, to make sure that things were being done to his liking. He smiled at that thought. "They made me, now they have to put up with me," he mumbled.

Certainly, he had NO intentions of turning Adam or his little protégé loose upon anyone who stepped out of line; but it was a good threat, and sadly, had been demonstrated for a select few in the Government who could not accept the fact that there was a new Unifier in the World. When the Governor of Far North had been blasted into thousands of tiny chunks of smoking meat, it had gotten a LOT of attention. He shook his bald head and smiled again.

‘Rick’, as he had decided to call ‘R’ in namesake of his friend Abrams, had been a bit overzealous in his defense of Xyn. He had been reluctant, he’d admitted, remembering the ordeal with the dead tree at the abandoned church on the way to Far South. However, when the Governor of Far North had threatened to launch a full scale attack upon “the ridiculous, sick joke of a new seat of power” – as he’d called the Ruins, ‘Rick’ had simply had a vision of his new home going up in a huge fireball and struck him down.

Kadens-2, as everyone preferred to call Xyn now, had scolded him accordingly, sending someone to find him a mop and bucket to clean up his mess. Of course, the live telecast of the revelation of his true Identity and his installment at the head of the Government had been watched all around the World, and when little ‘R’ had let go in true Bomber Mutant form, almost everyone on the Networks had seen it live. They also had seen the armored and scowling form of the Hunter hovering protectively over their new Leader.

Perhaps not the best way to introduce myself, Xyn mused, stopping outside the door of his destination. He reached for the ancient brass knob and turned it slowly, his Mind entering the room just a bit before he did.

And he was there, waiting.

He saw the brick walls and the bright, warm light from the overhead chandeliers. He gazed upon the rows and rows of old books, and sniffed the slightly musty smell of the antique rug. He closed the door behind him, locking it, and kicked off his short boots to walk barefoot across that old rug. He stopped to strip off his clothes in front of the very large mirror, and stared for a moment at the young one who stared back at him with glittering blue and gray eyes. He stretched himself again, his hand lingering at the place where some of his XY-Parts were missing.

His head was bald and his skin not too white. His body was lithe and almost muscular, and he stretched his long arms and sighed. He turned to face the big bed, looking at the worn blankets and many pillows longingly. His eyes then wandered to the old, overstuffed chair that shed a bit of its fillings now and then on the floor, following the sound of a crinkle of very old paper.

It was the sound of a page turning in an old book.

That sound made him think of something, and he looked down at his empty spread hands. He saw a beautiful leather book there, and crossed the room to move his empty hands up to the rows and rows of books and place it at the end of the shortest. He smiled.

“I’ll never forget,” he whispered.

“Having a Psionic moment?”
He nodded.
“It’s going to hurt for a long time. Trust me.”
He nodded again.
“You’re late, you know.”
“I just got back from Far North, and I’m tired.”
“Not too tired, I hope! I had plans.”
Xyn finally smiled as Jayk lowered his own book. Jayk smiled back at him, his sharp fangs flashing in the bright light and his black eyes glittering. He glanced at the bed, one of his raked back eyebrows raised. Xyn held out his hand, and Jayk stood up. He shook his head, and his long, black braids rustled.

“First you stop a War. Then you sleep for weeks. Then you run off with the Hunter to get ‘R’ all patched up and take over the World! You were supposed to be back three days ago, you know!” Jayk reminded him.
“It’s not MY fault that we had to stop in Mid North to find a cybernetic eye for him,” Xyn countered, smiling broadly. “Besides, we also got the chance to put in an order for some XY-Parts replacement for him too. AND Adam.”
“He’s only 8 Cycles old!” Jayk exclaimed. “It could have waited! Well, maybe Adam couldn’t wait. How’s he doing?”
“The Replacement went fine. He should be functional within a month.”
“I still think it could have waited.”
“The Hunter put in a Request too. We’re looking.”
“What about the hormone issue and abilities, headaches and stuff? Won’t that mess them up?”
“We’ll find a balance, I’m sure. Mr. Rick has some contacts in Maintenance, you know.”
“Hide me, then!” Jayk muttered.
But Xyn knew that he was joking. At least he hoped that he was. He touched the scar under his own penis and smiled back at Jayk, taking in the perfection of his full e-XY shape. “Want me to book one for US too?” he asked innocently.

Jayk looked Xyn up and down, and embraced him. He took his lips with his own, kissing him as if he were starved for affection. “That all depends on how well we do, you know,” he whispered in his ear, brushing his gleaming fangs over Xyn’s small, round ear. “As I recall, we have some advantages in that area that not too many others do.”

Xyn smiled at him, looking at the big bed again. It had been a very long time since he’d shared that bed with Jayk, and his Mind was suddenly full of the memory of the Forest, sun-scorched Flats and taste of blue berries and purple fruits. He ran his hands over Jayk’s flat stomach, his fingers brushing at the place where Jayk’s XY-Parts had been removed so many uncounted Deca-Cycles before. He shivered, and he slowly grew erect.

Jayk laughed, and Xyn flushed as he touched him there. “I wouldn’t fix it if it isn’t broken.”

The problems of the entire World fell away in that touch as they rejoined after so long of a separation.

I love you, that one Mind said to Itself as the two bodies that were Xyn/Jayk laid down upon the bed in a lovers’ embrace that had, and no doubt would again, shake the very World.