XY-n 9 : Don't Talk to Strangers

“Don’t talk to Strangers,
don’t make any sudden Moves.
I sense the Danger,
in running out on You.” - Roger Daltrey, Under a Raging Moon

Jayk didn’t resist as the Hunter reached down and picked him up. Even with his Psi totally shut off, the Hunter felt as if he could almost tangibly feel Jayk’s pain. The Slow Mutant was limp in his arms as he turned towards the craft, wondering about what it must be like to live such a long and involuted life. He himself, young by Approved standards, had seen enough pain to last him a lifetime - Maintenance or not. He couldn’t quite wrap his mind around how old Jayk could be, however. Some said that Slow Mutants aged 1 Cycle for every 50 years of real time. Some said more, some said less. The computer had placed Jayk’s physiological age at approximately 15 Cycles, and the Hunter realized that at even 50:1, Jayk was pushing a Kilo-Cycle in age.

He paused about halfway back to the craft. A hard gust of chill wind suddenly blew through the meadow, and the sky grew even darker. He swore. Jayk was mumbling and shaking, and the Hunter bent his head down to hear him. “Please ... I’m falling! Hold onto me, don’t let me fall!”

It made no sense. He had a firm grasp on Jayk. The Mutant had to realize this. Or did he? Or was it something else? Knowing that it would take him too long to power his Psi back up, he let it pass and tightened his grip. Even if one of Jayk’s friends were watching them, so to speak, there wasn’t anything he could really DO about it at that moment. As he began walking again, Jayk’s long, thin arms suddenly embraced him around the neck and he found Jayk’s head buried in his shoulder. The Mutant’s grip on him was tighter than his was upon HIM, and the Hunter - for the first time in his career - wasn’t sure what to do. He pulled him closer and kept walking.

It was beginning to sprinkle again as he carefully got them both back into the craft. He gently pried Jayk off of him, and placed him in the passenger seat. For a moment, he considered sedation and a transport holding tube, but immediately dismissed it. He wanted to hear more, and Jayk was still a bit weak for heavy sedation.

Besides, the somewhat creepy remains of the dead Adult with which he had found Jayk would be in one of those tubes, placed there by the scavenger drone.

He pulled off his jacket and carefully put it on Jayk, who was beginning to shiver. The wind continued to blow, and by the time he had Jayk settled into the too-large jacket and the hatch closed, they were both damp. He fired up the engines and turned on the heat, awaiting the launch cycle confirmation. The jacket came down past Jayk’s knees, but the arms seemed about right - only slightly too long. Hesitantly, he pushed the sleeves back and put the wrist restraints back on him. He then secured the seat belt and replaced the ankle restraints. A familiar surge of frustration arose within him as he ran a hand up the hairless and muscular calf, noting how cold the smooth skin felt. Jayk continued to whimper and mumble now and then, but said nothing intelligible. The seat belt clasp then attached itself to the wrist restraints, and the ankle restraints locked down to a hook under the edge of the seat. Once again, Jayk was totally helpless.

“Launch cycle ready, prisoner secured.” the computer replied.

“Manual control,” the Hunter ordered, placing his hands on the stick. The craft began to rise, then once clear of the tree line, began to accelerate. Both of them were pressed back against their seats as it climbed into the evil looking sky, and Jayk leaned over to stare out of the window. There was an unexpected clap of thunder accompanied by a flash of lightning, the Storm intensifying without warning. The Hunter jumped a bit and Jayk cried out, “NO! I’ll fall! Don’t let me fall! No one’ll catch me if I fall!”

He began to struggle frantically with his restraints, but the best that he could do was turn his head and wiggle his butt on the seat. His almond-shaped eyes were wide and he was crying again. The Hunter sent the craft into a steep and hard climb, desperately trying to rise above the Storm. He wasn’t sure how the new craft would handle a lightning strike, but he certainly didn’t want to find out. The strange glow that man-made objects seemed to take on was already evident on the craft’s hull, and it was unnerving. It seemed to take forever, then finally there came a hiss and the windows darkened as they broke through the swirling blue-gray cloud tops. “High altitude cruise engaged,” the computer replied, “input course?”

“New City Far South,” the Hunter replied.

“Refueling required before destination attained,” the computer replied, “Suggest New City East, point of origin, or New City Seaside, midway.”

“Seaside, normal auto-cruise for this altitude. Engage,” he replied, releasing the controls to the computer and then turning his attention towards Jayk who was now staring in terror at the raging clouds below them. The Hunter reached out and touched his shoulder, and Jayk screamed.

“Jayk!” the Hunter shouted at him, “Jayk, you’re OK! You won’t fall!”

The light of understanding seemed to come over the Mutant then, and he shook himself. He glanced down at his bound wrists, the padded steel cuffs holding his hands together in his lap and clasped to the seat belt’s buckle. “I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice, “I don’t know what came over me. Where are we going?”

The Hunter thought for a moment. In all of his career, he’d never felt a thing for his captures. He’d never worried about taking them to a Facility or a Dealer or in to the Authorities if he were running late. But this was different; this capture had information he needed - needed badly - and he was also worth a small fortune. For a brief moment, he considered Acer and hiding him, but then realized that Acer would probably ID Jayk and sell him right off. After all, the Mutant WAS a prize to be had, monetary reward or not. That or Acer would try and find a Buyer who could outbid Jayk’s old Master. Just having him would be reward in itself, and the Hunter cursed himself for his feelings. Slowly, laboriously, he struggled to bring up his Psi as his head began to ache. “Well I sure can’t keep you, I mean, it’s not like you’re a stray puppy,” he said, not sure of how he felt. His Suit hissed and released a painkiller.

Jayk grinned, his fangs flashing. Then the grin faded as fast as it had come. “There’s a theory to that headache thing, you know,” he offered.

“Oh? How do you know I have one?”

“Xyn told me how his Suit worked, and yours just hissed,” Jayk replied, “Some think it’s caused by male hormone buildup as you get older. Weakens the Mutant abilities and then kills it altogether. I know one Mutant who was castrated when he was beginning to have problems with it, 13 or 14 Cycles I think, and it cleared him right up. No balls, no hormones, no headaches for Mutants. XX’s don’t get it, though.” Jayk explained.

The Hunter snorted.

“Damn Suit sees to that,” he replied in disgust, “Replaces the hormones.”

Jayk caught it right off, his fit of hysteria seemingly over. Still, his eyes seemed distant. It was almost as if he were watching something else, or listening to someone else. He stared at his captor, snuggling himself down into the lined jacket. “YOU? You’re an e-XY? But you’re so ... well ... big and uhh ...”

“Manly?” the Hunter interrupted.

Jayk nodded. “It doesn’t show.” He squirmed a bit. “But I guess I was giving YOU a good show, huh?”

The Hunter rubbed at his temples and closed his eyes. “Don’t toy with me, Jayk. My head hurts, and you scared me with that fit. What was all that about falling?”

“I really don’t know,” he replied, looking back out the window. “I wasn’t myself for a bit there. I thought I was talking to someone else, and it felt like falling ... falling so very far and it was so cold and dark. Thanks for the jacket. I expected a transport tube.”

“Was it N you heard?”

Jayk jerked his head around, his braided hair rustling on the seat cover. His face was determined, and his jaw clenched. “Xyn? How? I don’t even know where I am!”

“But HE might know,” the Hunter replied, “I’m a Psion, just like him. I know how far I can reach, but I only touched his Mind once, briefly, before that bitch tried to kill me. I was watching a group in the Ruins coming over the bridge, and I almost didn’t make it back out. That’s why I got this new craft, so I can make it in and out and have resources to spare when I do. I don’t know how far Xyn - as you call him - can reach. If he’s all you say he is, then he’s probably looking for you. If I’d had my Psi up and going when it happened, I’d have known. I NEVER forget a Mind.”

Jayk seemed to relax, the tenseness going out of him. “I hope he gives up soon, then.”

“Why?”

“Because he can’t reach me. Even back in the Ruins, before you found me, he’d have never made it back to me. I was almost dead then. I wish I had died. You should have let me.”

“I couldn’t,” the Hunter replied, a strange and alien emotion arising within him. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of Jayk, and he wasn’t sure what to do next.

“So, where ARE we going?” Jayk asked again.

“I think I have to take you back to your old Master, Jayk. You’re a wanted ... uh ... man, you know.”

Jayk sighed. “I guess it’s him or the Exterminators,” Jayk mused, but his eyes had gone flat.

The Hunter gasped then as his Psi reached its full operating levels, and he felt the agony coming off of Jayk in waves. There was loathing, self-hatred, and fear. But most of all, there was loss. As he heard Jayk let out an explosive sigh, he felt something deep inside of the young-looking Mutant simply roll over and give up. The Hunter pulled back from that loss, searching out into the Storm below them for signs of other Psions instead. He took in the swirling clouds, the flashes of lightning, and realized that he’d rather fall from this very craft to the ground far below than fall into what Jayk was feeling.

“I’m sorry, Jayk,” he offered.

Jayk stared at him, then raised an eyebrow. “You know, I think you really are. The worst part of it all is that I’ll never see Xyn again though.”

“I’d take you back if I could, Jayk, but I can’t. We could get to the Ruins, I think, despite the Storm, but we’d be stuck there then. And I don’t think your people would care for MY company. The Network knows that I’ve captured you, and I’m required to either turn you in to the Authorities, or return you to your old Master. Legally, you ARE his missing property. Besides, with my record, I don’t think anyone would really believe that you escaped,” the Hunter explained.

“Then why did you come to begin with?” Jayk asked, his voice flat and unemotional.

“Because there’s a reward, and a big one, on N’s head. Abrams wants him back bad, and I seem to have developed this love of wealth and possessions.”

“At least money never dies,” Jayk whispered, “But someone might steal it. I’ve never had so much as two tokens to hold in my hand, but I’ve lost fortunes that you’d never understand.”

The Hunter flinched, Jayk’s remarks stinging him in a very tender spot. He thought about his acquisitions of wealth over the Cycles, wondering for the first time why he bothered. He had no one to leave it to. His own parents would be dead, if they were not already, and he had been an Only. No brothers, no sisters ... not even a cousin. And no son.

“I’d trade my fortunes for a few Cycles of your’s any day,” the Hunter replied, letting the computer guide the craft along its course to the New City Seaside where they would refuel the craft. “How old were you?” Jayk suddenly asked, implying the castration.

The Hunter realized this and gritted his teeth.

“14.”

“I think I was 13 or 12 in physiological time,” Jayk stated, “I tend to forget Cycles. Hell, I tend to forget Deca-Cycles! Pretty soon, you don’t want to keep track of ‘em anymore.”

The Hunter thought about it for a moment, and then he nodded. “It was part of my new career that the Authorities chose for me,” he explained, his voice quavering just a bit. “I was taken from my parents when someone turned them in for harboring a Mutant. They took me to a Facility and castrated me, completely. Everything down there - gone. I woke up the next day to find myself a prisoner to this damn Suit too, Upgraded to Approved status and all! I found out I had data in my head that I had no clue as to how it got there and had to get used to Network connecting. They trained me for Cycles and Cycles, weapons, hand to hand, endurance, survivalism, then sent me out with other older Hunters. I bet you didn’t know that most Hunters are not e-XY’s, did you?”

Jayk shook his head, listening intently, his face showing confusion.

“Most of them are just Approved XY’s, and they were a special belt at the waist that makes access to the XY Parts impossible. When they’re off duty, they go home and the belt responds to a signal from the Network to release, then comes right off. When it’s time to go back on duty, they can’t get into their crafts until they ‘belt up’ again. I didn’t have that option,” the Hunter stated flatly, the anger in his voice evident.

“Neither did I,” Jayk replied. “I got caught and the Hunter, which obviously wasn’t you - sold me to a Dealer. I think it was 20 or 21 Cycles ago, I forget. You’d have been just getting started on your career then, I think.”

“Did you ever masturbate?” the Hunter asked, curiously.

Jayk nearly choked, taken totally by surprise at the question. He nodded. “Once,” he said in a wistful tone, “Then they got me and I never had another chance. I was just starting the XY-change too.”

“I thought your voice was pretty clear and clean,” the Hunter noted, “And you do have longer arms and legs than most. I miss it, you know.”

“I think I do,” Jayk said, “But I miss home most of all.”

“And where is home?” the Hunter asked, probing gently.

“Under the Ruins,” Jayk answered, “It sure as hell isn’t with my old Master. THAT was never home for me. Out in the Forest, or in the Old City, or hiding in the Ruins - those were homes. At least there was love there. Now they’re all lost to me.”

He didn’t cry again, but the sorrow at the last remark was clear to the Hunter.

“Your Master didn’t love you?” he wondered aloud. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Jayk nodded. “No problem. But, no, he didn’t love me. He was in lust with me, not love. The site of me naked used to make him get so aroused. I hated him and IT at first, you know. I don’t want to go back.”

“I have to take you back. The Network knows. The report’s been filed.”

Again, Jayk nodded. “I know. But you’re not at all what I expected.”

The Hunter nodded this time. “I’m not what I expected, either. Here I am , flying a new long range Craft over the Forest, talking to a prisoner who’s a Slow / Beast Mutant e-XY, and still wanting to go and chase after a Facility brat who wandered off that might or might not be a Mutant! IN the damn RUINS no less! Go figure. So, was your Master ever able to make you climax? I mean, being cut and all...”

Jayk sighed, his face flaming. “Yes,” he admitted, and the Hunter could feel the shame. “Over time, it didn’t hurt anymore and I started to like it. It wasn’t the same sensation as masturbation, but it felt so good when it finally happened. My Master used to tell me how happy he was for me, since I was an e-XY and couldn’t just pleasure myself when I liked to - like a real Adult XY could. He used to tell me it was a shame that I’d never know the feeling of sexual release as a dominant partner. But the fact the fact that I was so young and Slow Mutant usually drove him wild whenever someone mentioned it. It’s not that I had a lack of sex problem.” Jayk then proceeded to describe the tamer aspects of his past sex life until the Hunter’s face was red and his hands were trembling .

“Ok, that’s enough, I get it!” He finally said, “Stop! Sometimes I get out of control,” the Hunter stated, after calming himself a bit, “I get so worked up with no way to satisfy it that I hurt myself and pass out so the Suit can fix what damage I do. I usually punch out walls and such. Works for me, at least. Break a few bones, let out some painkillers and sedatives ...”

Jayk was confused. He didn’t understand his captor’s line of questioning, and the sexual issue didn’t really make sense to him. Of course, he himself had no sexual drive since he had no XY-Parts left to provide him with such drive and desires. He had found that he could enjoy it when the opportunity presented itself, but it was not a ‘need’ for him as it seemed to be with XY’s. And why was he being asked these things, and what would he be asked next? What was the point of it all? Perhaps the Hunter, emasculated and hormonally driven by his Suit, was trying to find out how an e-XY like Jayk got off sexually?

He didn’t have to wait long to find out.

“ I think I can use that data, thanks. And you were intimate with N, weren’t you, Jayk?”

The Mutant’s mouth fell open, and dumbly he nodded. Then he remembered that this Hunter - THE HUNTER - was a Mutant too. He was a Psion, in a Suit, and Upgraded. He was every Mutant or Runaway’s worst nightmare come to life. He was the Authority connection that could bring Runaways out of the Ruins and come back for more! Jayk shuddered, knowing that he couldn’t lie to him and get away with it.

“I couldn’t hide it from him, from Xyn. He saw into my very soul, without even trying. He didn’t even know he was doing it. He was so pure and trusting, and I corrupted him!” Jayk explained. “YOU know that the more and more deeply you get into someone’s Mind, the more they rub off on you?”

The Hunter nodded. “I try and avoid that.”

Jayk nodded slowly. “Xyn knew what I wanted. What I had had. He saw what my life had been like and how sad I was. He saw how bad I just wanted to die. He knew NOTHING, yet there he was, willing to let me do what I wanted with him! Then it went too far, and in one night Xyn grew up. He came to my bed a lost little XY, and by morning, he was a fully educated young one. I know he probed DEEP into my Mind, he had too. He even found a way to make me feel HIS orgasm. It almost killed me, too, it was so good. I hadn’t even thought about it in a long time until it just came to me. I don’t know though, maybe he was wondering about it and that made ME think of it?”

The Hunter stared, his own mouth now agape. “THAT can be done? I mean, the orgasm part?”

Jayk nodded, but remained silent.

“Amazing.”

“It was something I never thought I’d know in this life,” Jayk replied.

They flew on for quite some time before either of them spoke again. Finally, it was Jayk who broke the silence. “And now since I loved him, still love him, you’ll drop me off with my old Master and go back for Xyn, won’t you? You’ll catch him and then what?”

The Hunter nodded. “I have to. It’s why I got this craft. I have to go back to the Ruins. What I’ll do is most likely turn him back over to Abrams at the Facility for the reward.”

“Like I said, too bad I’ll never see him again. I guess our lives together are over,” Jayk mourned, his dark eyes filling.

“You’re so full of love, did you know that?” the Hunter asked, “I can feel it. You want so badly to give it to someone who can return it. You’re not the only one who’s lost the one they loved, though. I never saw my parents again after I was taken, and my life is a lonely one. If Abrams isn’t lying, I can understand his desire to have Xyn back. If Xyn was using his Psi on him, without knowing it, then the loss of Xyn is probably just literally killing him.”

Jayk said nothing. Only his thought was to be heard. But you’re not so old, like me, either, and I could care less if a Facility butcher lives or dies.

“Something else is bothering you,” the Hunter observed, “I can see his face.”

Jayk turned towards the window, staring down at the clouds. It was breaking up as they went further South, and soon they’d be able to cruise normally again. “There’s no way to find out,” he stated in a voice filled with pain, “He was taken away over a Cycle ago in the Old City. I never should have gone. I never should have taken him with me.”

“Computer,” the Hunter ordered, “Access voice command protocols for the prisoner. Allow records search for all captures, regardless of status, in the last 3 Cycles.”

“Confirm,” the computer replied, “Security code required.”

“Eunuch-1434,” the Hunter spoke flatly.

“Authorization confirmed,” the computer answered, lighting up a screen in front of Jayk’s wide eyes.

“What’s this for?” he asked.

“Ask it what happened to him. Find out who took your little one and where he went. You might not want to know, though,” the Hunter advised.

Jayk stared at the screen. He cleared his throat. “Computer, search capture records for last 2 Cycles. Search for XY’s Unapproved.”

“7,324 matches found,” the computer responded, “Narrow search parameters.”

“Old City Main, Defective XY, little,” Jayk added.

“14 matches found. More parameters or end?”

“Red hair. Blind,” Jayk said, his voice catching in his throat.

“ONE match found, displaying images ...” the computer happily stated.

Suddenly there appeared on the screen before him the image of Scot, just as Jayk remembered him. Then slowly, the face changed in an age progression. The hair shortened into a well kept crew cut, but it was still flaming red. The freckles were the same, although the skin had better color tones. The face was fuller, and Scot looked so much better than he had while living in the Ruins with them. The full body shot showed him a bit taller, more muscular and fleshy. There was something wrong with the image, however, as it changed back and forth to show the changes in Scot’s health records.

Then Jayk looked at the eyes.

He sucked in a sudden breath, and let out a low, amazed sound. He ordered a zoom-up on the face only.

Scot’s eyes were no longer solid white. Instead, they were like spherical mirrors floating behind the lids. There was no iris or pupil, however, only the simulated reflection of Jayk staring into them. He sat and stared, unsure what to make of it. Kel had had a cybernetic eye, but Scot’s looked totally different. His did not protrude or look monstrous as Kel’s had, and when the image blinked those eyes, he looked like any other little XY. They looked almost natural, except for the mirror effect, which caught the light this way and that and was actually quite pretty.

“Current status,” the Hunter added.

The computer replied, “Missing Bio Defective, Scot R. Jennings, aged 9.1 Cycles, Old City Main, 1.2 Cycles gone. Retrieved by Hunter #17, returned to parents. Unapproved XY, was Upgraded to Approved .8 Cycles ago. Defective parts replacements - eyes, Processor installation, Nanobots installed. Secondary Processor installed .2 Cycles ago. Extended memory chips pending. Citations include extreme intelligence even before Upgrades, form and function of body, and personality. Health, perfect. End record.”

“Happy ending,” the Hunter noted.

Jayk, however, only sat in silence and continued to stare at the image of the little one that he had cared for for just over a Cycle. He thought of how much he had enjoyed it, how guilty he had felt in some of the thoughts he had entertained; thoughts that he couldn’t act upon. He thought of the pain of the loss, watching the Hunter take the Defective little one away as he cried out for help that never came. He wondered if Adults who lost their little one to malfunctions felt as he did.

And now this.

Part of Jayk felt the weight of the world fall off of his shoulders, while part of him still cried over the loss of Scot.

“He had parents,” Jayk whispered.

“So it would seem.”

“And they repaired and Upgraded him!” Jayk breathed in astonishment.

The Hunter nodded.

“But he never said a thing to any of us! If he was just lost and not really Runaway, why didn’t he want to go back to them? Why didn’t he have a marker Beacon when I found him? Why didn’t he tell us? Why did he so want to stay with me?”

“Why, why, why?” the Hunter mused, then said wistfully, “Why ask? Maybe he was just happier with YOU.”

But whose Mind?

Surely it was not his own.

Tentatively, with the cold still tearing at his exposed skin and his ears filled with the roar of wind, he took a step forward. His bare foot touched solid ground, and the darkness began to dissipate. He reached out with his Psi, unafraid and knowing that he was really in the Infirmary and under the care of - at least - Shar, if not others. He knew that his body was safe and secure on Tym’s bed, his hands touching the cold skin of the dying little one.

And that was where he was.

He had come, following his Psi, in search of Tym and arrived in this place. He thought of how time had slipped away from him and Jayk when they had been in his own Mind. He picked up his pace, sweeping ahead of him with his Psi over a rough and desolate landscape. Somewhere up ahead was Tym, and Xyn had no desire to waste any time in getting him out. One thing that the little Mutant didn’t have was time to waste, judging from the state of his body.

“Tym?” he called out, both Psionically and verbally, “Tym, it’s me, Xyn. Where are you?”

“Go away,” came a faint voice on the wind as the gray sky began to brighten just a bit.

“I can’t do that,” Xyn replied, “Not without you.”

“I don’t talk to strangers.”

“I’m no stranger,” Xyn answered.

“Yes you are.”

“I’m not. I’m a friend, a friend who won’t ever hurt you like they did.”

“You already did,” Tym retorted hotly.

Xyn sighed. It was true. He had gone away in search of Jayk, leaving Tym with Chriss.

“But I came back.”

“Why? I said I was sorry, Xyn. I said it over and over. I got so tired trying to bring you back when you ran from me. I didn’t mean to scare you! I didn’t mean to make you go all loopy and stuff. I only wanted ... I ... I just ... please! Go away and let me alone!” Tym cried, his tearless sobs tearing at Xyn’s very Soul.

“I didn’t understand you then. I do now,” Xyn explained calmly, running to where his Psi and the voice led him. He jumped over huge gaping wounds in the very ground, dodged rocks and snags of dead trees. The smell of the air itself was stale and sterile, and even though he knew he was not running in his body, that it was all mental illusion, he still panted. Then he crested a hill and saw it. Saw Tym.

The little one was sitting naked in a field of dead weeds near an empty basin that Xyn thought might once have been a lake. There were small skeletons here and there of what Tym must have imagined living in that lake. A huge dead tree reached its bone-white limbs up towards the gray and threatening sky in mute supplication, as if calling out to some long-forgotten god that neither cared nor listened any longer. Tym was staring at the tree, but no tears fell from his contorted face. He merely sat and stared, his emaciated body shaking now and again as if some great pain wanted to force its way out, but could not.

Then Xyn realized what he was seeing.

The waters had dried up, and the wild had died.

Tym had recreated his own version of Xyn’s mental hiding place, into which he had drawn Jayk to help him.

This place, however, was not the beautiful green and blue that Xyn remembered. His retreat had been a comforting place, warm and secure and filled with life. Until the storm of blood had come. Somehow, Tym had seen that place and tried to flee there as Xyn had fled, hoping ... but for what?

Xyn probed with his Psi, even though he was WITHIN Tym’s Mind already. What he found wrenched at his heart, and tears came to his eyes.

Xyn had created this place, originally, based upon a fond memory of Mr. Rick showing him holo-images. This one had been his favorite, and Mr. Rick had promised to someday take him outside - OUTSIDE! - to walk on the green grass and see the blue sky without glass in front of it. He even promised that they’d try and catch the animals he called “fish” living in the water, and Xyn had been amazed. Mr. Rick had held in in his lap and he had been, he suddenly realized, much much smaller then. He remembered the touch of his big hands and his arms wrapped around him, and the feel of his lips when he kissed him on the cheek and told him to follow a Carebot back to his dorm for the night. It was a comforting memory, reminding him of a much safer and happier time.

Tym had recreated this place, originally, based upon that fond memory which he had found in Xyn’s Mind and so desperately longed to experience for himself. Only for Tym, there was no one like Mr. Rick. There was some man, but he hated Tym and drove him away. Tym was outside - lived OUTSIDE! - for most of his short life and he longed only for a warm bed in a safe house and something to eat. He had seen all that he had ever wanted in Xyn’s memory when the young Psion had carried him off of the transport ship and fed him. It was part of his Mutant abilities, Xyn gathered, to lose himself in another - or vice versa, which Xyn had discovered the hard way.

But Tym had failed in his recreation, having had only his own experiences to build with.

And now he was hiding in it, wrapping the gray desolation about his dying self as if it were a warm security blanket.

Xyn gasped as he realized what he had done in breaking himself and Jayk out of his own hiding place of the Mind, even though Tym had been trying to use his own strange Mutant ability to help him do just that. Tym had been lost in Xyn’s own happy memories as he had clung to the him during those terrible days of catatonic state. Then, in breaking them out of it, Xyn had evicted Tym as well.

Tym nodded, as if hearing Xyn’s thought.

“Everywhere I go, I bring ruin,” he cried, “maybe dying in the Ruins is right then.”

“No, Tym,” Xyn replied in a voice filled with regret, “You didn’t know. I didn’t know. You didn’t understand what you could do when I befriended you. You were just like a starving little one confronted by a feast - you dived in and ate your fill. But it made you sick. Too much too fast, and the host - me - wasn’t prepared for the mess you’d make,” Xyn mused.

“You ran from me,” Tym said softly, “I hurt you and you ran. I tried to take what was yours and make it mine. I didn’t mean to! I only wanted ... wanted ... a little bit ... I didn’t ...” but the little Mutant couldn’t get it out. His body shook again as he choked, yet he didn’t cry.

“I didn’t want to leave you,” Xyn said.

“You wanted Jayk, not me.”

“No. It’s not like that,” Xyn countered, desperately trying to wrap his Psi around Tym’s entire “universe” as it were, and pull them both out of it before Tym’s body died in reality. “You can love as many friends as you can make. It isn’t one on one, like you’re thinking.”

“Oh. Well, no one’s ever loved ME, so what did I know?” Tym said sarcastically.

“If I hadn’t cared, I’d have never taken care of you that night,” Xyn retorted, his Psi expanding and expanding and his head beginning to ache terribly.

“Then why did you take it all way from me?” Tym cried, sounding as if the world were coming to and end, “Why did you tear it out of me like you did and leave me with Chriss? I’m scared of him, and you left me with HIM!”

Slowly, Xyn approached Tym and sat down beside him. He reached out a hand, but the little one pulled away. Stealthily, Xyn expanded his Psi even further, and pulled Tym into a tight embrace. Still, he resisted.

“No! Not again! I can’t take it again! Just let me die, Xyn. Go away!”

“I can’t do that,” the young Psion answered, tightening his grips both physical and otherwise, “You don’t understand what happened, neither of us did. And if you stay HERE much longer, you’ll die. Your body, and THIS place too, here in your Mind, will both die!”

“I didn’t call you in like you did Jayk in your Mind,” Tym said, “and if I won’t go, who’s goin’ to get us out?”

“I am,” Xyn replied, “because I drove you to this place, but not on purpose. I let you see love, caring, tenderness - then I accidentally tore it all out of you when I left, or woke up, whatever. I didn’t mean to, and I certainly didn’t want to hurt you in doing so.”

“I don’t believe you.”

That hurt.

More than his throbbing head was causing him, Xyn felt more pain from Tym’s words. He felt hot tears of shame on his face, and he reached up to wipe one away. When he drew his hand back, however, he held within it a small crystalline jewel. He held it out to Tym, but the little one looked away.

“I don’t want ANYTHING from you, no more. Not from anyone! Go away!” Tym cried out, trying with all he had to pull out of Xyn’s grasp.

Then, on impulse - or perhaps frustration at not being able to get through to him - Xyn hurled the small jewel towards the empty basin of the lake. It struck the dead and dry ground with a resounding splash sound, and the Earth before them split open even as Xyn cried out in the most exquisite pain that he had ever felt as his Mind and Will suddenly exploded.

Back at his bedside, Shar watched Tym’s vitals degrade. She also watched Xyn, lying beside him, writhing in pain. Still, she poured her Psi out at them, calling ... calling ... come back to me!

The waters that burst from the crack in the Earth were dirty and gray at first, but as Xyn cried out in pain and lost his grip on Tym, the waters turned blue and foamy and began to fill the basin. The sky suddenly began to swirl, and the wind blew again, warm this time. There came with it a fresh scent, and the dead weeds began to sprout up new green shoots as the basin filled with blue and the clouds coalesced into puffy, white clumps overhead. The dead snag of a tree suddenly swelled with buds, and Tym gasped.

He looked all around, lost in the wonder of it all in a state of change, for how long he did not know.

He breathed in the fresh and clean air, stared at the fluffy clouds, and as the blue waters came up to the edge of the basin to meet them, he felt the caress of those waters on his dry skin. The basin filled in fully as the tree burst into green leaves and the weeds and grass flowered in multiple colors all around them. A fish jumped in the water with a resounding splash. The air was suddenly alive with the songs of a thousand birds. Then a voice seemed to be carried on that warm and vital wind, calling his name, and Xyn’s.

But when he looked over at the one who had come to save him, Tym saw that Xyn had fallen back into the enlivened grass on his side.

He wasn’t moving.

Tym swallowed hard, and not knowing if he could do it right or not, he brought what he thought were his own Mutant abilities up to power. He reached up into the sky, down under the waters, into the tree and the grass and weeds. He called, and he listened. The voice on the wind seemed to answer him, but he didn’t understand it. Still he tried.

He thought of all the things that Xyn had said to him, wondering if any of them were true. So badly he wanted to believe some small part of it! What IF Xyn had been right, and he himself had been wrong? What if Xyn really did love him, when no one else had before? And if he didn’t, then WHY did he come here to begin with? Why had Xyn come looking for him after all that he had done to him?

Tym began to shake and cried out, “I didn’t mean to! I hurt you. Everything I did was wrong, and it made you get sick! It made you run and hide HERE! Then Jayk killed that bad man, and they left him to die! I killed Jayk, just like I’m killing you now! It’s all my fault. Why does everything I touch have to die?!” he screamed, taking the still form of Xyn in his arms and holding him, wishing him to be alright. Wishing that he loved him like he loved Jayk.

Wishing that someone, anyone, loved him like that.

Wishing that it would stay and never be torn out of him.

‘But I didn’t mean to,’ Xyn had said, and finally, as the leaves of the tree rustled in the warm wind and the waters lapped their bare legs, Tym believed it.

There was a sudden clap of thunder that shook the entire world, or at least the world in which they were trapped, as Tym buried his face in Xyn’s shoulder and let go.

Hot tears, the first in so many long and terrible Cycles of running and hiding, streamed down his face and soaked the unconscious Psion’s shoulder. Tym clung to him and cried, his thin chest heaving as he sobbed out all of the pain and suffering he had endured because even other Mutants had been afraid of him.

And as his tears fell, his Mind let go with all that he was worth and he screamed.

Suddenly they were falling, their arms wrapped tightly around one another. Someone somewhere was crying out, “Don’t let me fall, no one’ll catch me if I fall!” The thunder shook them again, rattling their very bones with its force. Tym didn’t understand most of it, but he DID understand where he wanted to be, and it wasn’t falling in the darkness. With what little he knew of control, as the other Mutants had called it, he looked up and cried out for help.

Shar heard that cry, and sensing the “hand” that had been offered and refused once before was being offered again, she reached out into the Psionic darkness and took it. Both forms on the bed flinched, and Xyn sat bolt upright with a pained yelp. His Suit was hissing and beeping softly, pumping him full of whatever it sensed that his Bio body needed. It lit up blue for an instant, then returned to soiled white. Next to him, Tym shook and gasped, his monitors lighting up like a Unification Day Display. He sucked at the oxygen that was being delivered though the face mask and his hand began to warm within Xyn’s. He squeezed it and sighed, his eyes fluttering open for only a second. Shar increased the flow of all the life support devices to which he was connected, and pulled her Psi back in. She smiled at them both. “Are you quite alright?” she asked Xyn.

The little Psion shook his head and blinked a few times, powering down his Psi as his headache dissipated. “Thanks for the lift. I think I’ll be OK now. How long?” he asked.

“Just a bit over a whole afternoon is all,” she stated as if nothing unusual had happened, then added, “You know, Xyn Psion, you really must learn not to run yourself so hard like that.”

“Yea, I think you’re right. Quick trip though,” Xyn replied, trying to stand. He failed.

Shar caught his arm and helped him into the bed next to Tym’s, whose eyes were now darting this way and that under the lids. His lips, beginning to color up to a faint pink, were turned up ever so slightly in a smile.

“Sleep here for the rest of the night,” Shar ordered, “Kefe and the others will guard our refuge through the darkness. Rest, and know that you have done well.”

But Xyn was already asleep, and for the first time in so many Cycles, some part of him sensed that the little one in the bed next to him was having pleasant dreams and not nightmares.

As the darkness began to fall and the Carebots had put all of the little Bios to bed, Rick Abrams was pacing the halls of his Facility. The day had not gone well for him. There had still been no word from the Hunter. There had been no more strange happenings such as the feeling that he had had the previous day that Xyn was alright. One of the Carebots had broken down in the middle of learning time. There had been one adoption of a little XX, which he had been ordered to oversee since Ms. Jones was on vacation from the XX dorms. There had been three Parts extractions - one kidney, one lung, and one XY emasculation. And two Suits had malfunctioned on VERY little ones, leaving Abrams in quite a state. He had handled it all professionally, however, and returned to his office only to find that he had run out of coffee.

The coffee, he mused, had been the worst part of it.

He was just getting ready to go back to the office and log on to the Network when he heard a soft chime from the comm system. “Incoming message, Director Abrams, Priority One,” the soft voice spoke from everywhere at once.

“In my office,” Abrams replied to the ceiling, wondering why he still looked up to address the system that was literally everywhere.

Once back the office, he logged on and called up his messages. This one was a live feed!

“‘Bout damn time,” the Hunter said to him from the screen before him.

“I’ve had a long day,” Abrams retorted. “What have you got?”

The screen cut to side view of Jayk. Abrams gasped. “What in hell is THAT?” he demanded, staring at the sleeping Mutant.

“THAT,” the Hunter replied, “Is a Slow/Beast Mutant, e-XY, 15 Cycles of physiological age, close to a Kilo-Cycle of real age, AND your little N’s boyfriend. He’s also a runaway slave, and the Law is clear that I have to return him to his Master.”

“AND claim the reward, right?” Abrams asked sarcastically. Then he paused. “He’s Xyn’s WHAT?!”

The Hunter laughed. “Oh, don’t be such a prude, Abrams! You knew Xyn was on the verge of growing up, didn’t you?”

Abrams flushed. “Yes, I had a hell of a time keeping the bidders off of him here. You wouldn’t believe how many of them wanted his ... uh ... well ... his Parts, shall we say.”

“Isn’t that what you’re there for?” the Hunter laughed.

“I WANT this one,” the Director retorted with some heat, “And you DO realize you’ll be paying the bill for the craft’s fuel out of the reward money, don’t you? And what does this freak have to do with calling me?”

“I was just getting to that. I found him in the Ruins, you see. Wonderful craft you got here, Abrams. Flew in, found him, and captured him. Wasn’t hard to do. Seems he was the one who found your Runaway N and took him in. He knows a shortcut from the Forest to the Ruins too. Only took them a day to get back there. I’ll bet you had no idea you were so damn close out there. I got a lot of good information out of him, and it turns out that he knows right where our little N is, AND what he’s become. You know you’re sending me out after a very powerful Psion Mutant, don’t you?”

Abrams flushed. “I suspected it,” he countered, knowing that he could lie over the comm channel and not be caught.

But the Hunter laughed. “I touched his Mind, once. He’s got some kick-ass bitch backing him up though, and he’s learning. He’s assimilating knowledge and life experiences with every Mind that he touches, and he’s touching a LOT of them in the last few weeks. I think that you’re in for a big surprise when you finally get N back, buddy. He’s NOT the little innocent Bio you knew any more. He’s grown up - or working on it, at least.”

Abrams felt his flesh creep. He imagined Xyn alone, then with Jayk. The very sight of Jayk frightened him, and he couldn’t imagine what Xyn could have learned from Psionic contact with the likes of such. He pulled up a holo-image of the Ruins and stared at it. It was, of course, an old image, back from before the Comm-Tell satellite had gone bad. “Xyn’s in there,” he breathed. The Hunter nodded. “Jayk here confirmed it. And I now know where to find him. I was less than a day from him when I picked this one up.”

“Then why in hell didn’t you go AFTER Xyn then?” Abrams roared, hearing a mumbled reply on the other end of his communication. “What was that?”

“Seems you woke up Jayk with that last outburst,” the Hunter answered. “Anyway, we’re off to New City Far South. I’ll call you when I hit the Ruins again. Have a good night.”

The connection closed, and without a reply option. Abrams slammed his fist on the desk and swore, the pain in his heart much greater than the pain in his hand.

Speeding along high over the coastline in their craft, the Hunter and Jayk laughed.

“I loved that!” The Hunter burst out, “I absolutely loved it!”

“Do I look like a freak to you?” Jayk asked, his fangs gleaming in the cockpit light. Then he jerked his head. “Can you scratch my ear please?” he asked, looking down at his cuffed hands.

The Hunter, for some reason, found that extremely funny and laughed harder as he scratched Jayk’s pointed ear.

“Thanks,” Jayk replied, settling back down into the seat. Then he sighed. “Are we there yet?” “We will be by dawn,” the Hunter answered, his laughter fading. “I suppose I should contact your Master and let him know we’re coming.”

Slowly, Jayk nodded. “I guess it’s not so bad,” he said in a soft voice. “I just hope he’s not mad at me. Shar kind of wrecked his place bad when she rescued me.”

“I’ve been wondering about that,” the Hunter inquired, “How in the hell did SHE get from the Ruins to Far South?”

Jayk shrugged. “Dunno. She never told me where she got the flyer, or how it got so far without running out of fuel. My Master probably thinks I died in the crash she staged, though. All I know is that it was a LONG hike back to her place!”

“That it would be,” the Hunter agreed, placing the call. They waited for a reply. Eventually, a sleepy looking older Adult’s face appeared on the screen. He was bald, and his beard was trimmed into a neat goatee. His eyes were piercing as he stared into the screen.

“Yes?” he answered, then he saw the indicator on his own screen that signaled an official communique. His eyes widened. “How may I help you, Hunter?” he asked, seeming to come awake very quickly.

“I’m sorry to disturb you so late in the evening, good sir, but I believe I have something here in my craft that belongs to you.”

The Master looked puzzled. “I don’t believe I follow,” he stated, turning to speak to someone else in the room.

“Maybe this will help,” the Hunter offered, switching the video feed to Jayk.

The Master stared into the screen, his eyes wide and his mouth open. He then leaned back a bit, his expression a mystery. “I never thought to see you again,” he said to Jayk, “You’ve been well I trust?” His voice, however, betrayed his emotions.

It wasn’t exactly the greeting he had expected, but it was enough to let them both know that Jayk’s old Master was indeed pleased to see him. Jayk nodded at the screen, averting his eyes. “He looks good trussed up like that,” the Master commented, “It will be good to have him back. When may I expect your arrival, Hunter?”

“Early in the morning, sir,” the Hunter replied, “I’ll make sure our Jayk here is well rested and ready to greet you.”

“I shall look forward to that!” The Master said, a leering grin spreading across his face. He then closed the comm channel and the screen went dark.

Jayk’s heart sank, but he made no sound. He merely sat and watched the familiar face on the screen fade away, remembering how life had been there. Warm bed, plenty of food, entertainment, manual Network access, and of course - constant attention. He closed his eyes, thinking of Xyn. They had long since outflown the Storm, and the skies over Far South were clear. Jayk stared out at the stars, realizing that he was closer to them than he had ever been before. Closer even, than when he had climbed to the roof of the tallest old building in the Ruins. Goodbye, Xyn. If you’re ever in Far South, look me up, he thought, wishing so badly that he were a Psion and not a Beast. The Hunter turned to look at him, and Jayk felt his Mind invaded, softly ...

... as if someone were tapping on his shoulder, and Xyn rolled over in his sleep. He felt it again and sat up in bed, rubbing at his eyes. To his right, Tym slept peacefully, his sunken and drawn face turned away and lost in the huge pillow. Support devices chirped and pumped, and some others in the Infirmary snored or moaned in pain. There were a few coughs, and soft footsteps of those attending them. He felt it again, and looked around.

At the foot of his bed, he saw a pair of shining cyan eyes. “Hello, Kefe,” he whispered, “Did you hear something?”

“Not a thing. Just passing through. Have you been asleep long?” the young Nightstalker asked.

Xyn nodded and scratched at his fuzzy head. “I thought I heard someone.”

“Well, you ARE a Psion, you know,” Kefe replied, softly stepping away, “Gotta go. Rounds to make. See ya.”

“Kefe?” Xyn called after him in a low voice, his Mind suddenly alert.

The young Nightstalker paused. “Yes?”

“If you see Chriss, tell him I’d like to talk to him, please?” Xyn asked.

The glowing eyes bobbed up and down as Kefe faded into the darkness. “Will do.”

Then Xyn stood up warily and looked around. His head ached just a bit as he brought up his Psi, as Kefe had suggested. Suddenly he was disoriented, his eyes filled with stars! There was someone there, and he knew that someone. No, two someone-s. All he could see were stars, and all he could feel was regret. There was also shame, then came a flash of desire and he felt himself getting an erection. He felt his head looking down, and he gasped as he stared at his hands. One of his fingers was missing, and his lip sent a stab of pain through him as he clenched his teeth and a fang bit into his lower lip. He reached down to feel at his XY parts, aroused and amazed, yet his hand pressed against nothing under his Suit as he felt at his groin. Yet he was suddenly so full of life, and the darkness of the Infirmary didn’t seem so dark anymore. A few quick steps carried him to the door, and his legs seemed springy and coiled as if ready to pounce!

Again, he felt the longing and the loss - then the desire. Then came the frustration, which he didn’t totally understand. But everything else, he DID understand! The feeling came back explosively, and deep under the Ruins, Xyn ceased to exist as somewhere high above the coastline and far to the South, Jayk ceased to exist as well. Across seemingly impossible distance, the two became one again as they had done that night in Jayk’s room - Xyn’s room ... the room ... the room that was all that mattered!

JAYK! He screamed soundlessly, his head throbbing and his Mind and Psi expanding to their limits. He stared into the starfield, trying to figure out where he was. Then he looked down. Pinpoints of light, much like stars themselves, flickered underneath him far below. There were streaks of light, and patterns that rose above the ground. On particular cluster of multi-colored lights caught his attention, and he saw a large wheel spinning on the ground like an animated rainbow. He felt movement, and although he had never left the Earth before, Xyn knew that he was flying.

JAYK! He called again, his eyes filling with tears as he ran past a startled orderly and down the hallway towards his room - Jayk’s room ... my room ... our room ... the room ... the room where I need to be!

He felt the many others Psions of the gangs ‘look up,’ startled, as he ran down the hallways. Then Shar’s thought came to him. He lives!

Still, Xyn ran. He’s out there somewhere! How did he do it?

The only way would be for another of our Kind to do it for him. Someone very powerful, indeed, or someone so pained and despondent that they cannot feel the danger of overexertion. Feel the Presence, Xyn Psion, feel WHO is the carrier of Jayk’s thoughts! We KNOW this Mind!

It can’t be him! Xyn wondered, Why would HE do that for Jayk?V I do not know, Shar replied, But I DO know where he is taking him. And then her Mind was gone, leaving Xyn to himself - to Jayk ...

... and the Hunter.

He puffed as he ran, but his lungs seemed so much larger and so full of air! He ran and ran, and when he reached the room, warmed by the constant glow of the brass ceiling lamps, he dived over the bed to land in the old chair. He stood in it stared at the bookcase, his Mind and Psi racing. It WAS Jayk, but it was also someone else. Xyn had thought that he had known that Mind, and although he instinctively wanted to recoil in terror of it, he did not. Instead he embraced it, clung to it, amplified it as best he could without hurting himself again.

Goodbye, Xyn, he heard Jayk’s voice calling to him, coming from everywhere and from nowhere all at once. The books spoke to him, as did the bed. The voice came from the closet, from the ancient rug! Everywhere around him, the very room spoke to his Psi! He held onto it for as long as he could, staring at his hands where a finger was/wasn’t missing and scratching at his pointed/round ears until that feeling of being Xyn/Jayk - which he thought never to feel again - began to slowly fade. His shining blue eyes filled with tears, and he fought down the urge to overextend himself again. His throat tightened up, and he swallowed hard. He could not have spoken aloud if he had to.

DON’T GO! He cried to that strange Being which was/wasn’t himself, realizing that he was losing the impossible connection over the unimaginable distances.

Goodbye, Xyn, it called again, weaker this time, If you’re ever Far South, look me up. I’ll be alright. I love you!

“I love you!” The Hunter gasped, his head pounding and his heart racing, “Someday ...” and then he slumped forward, the veins in his temples throbbing. Jayk stared at him, his mouth hanging open in shock. He felt the Psion slip from his Mind, and Xyn’s cry of “JAYK!” echoed in his pointed ears one last time.

But he didn’t cry. He was beyond that.

In sheer amazement, he stared at the unconscious Hunter as the Suit beeped and hissed and lit up blue here and there to shine through the Hunter’s regular clothing. A small trickle of blood ran from his left nostril, and his color was not good. His breath came in shallow and ragged gasps, and suddenly Jayk realized that he had no idea what to do about it.

The Hunter had exhausted, perhaps even damaged himself, in granting Jayk’s only remaining desire to say goodbye to Xyn.

“Computer,” Jayk said to the craft, hoping it had emergency protocols, “The pilot is disabled. You should engage full automatic controls and the secure the craft.”

There was a flash of light and some chirping and then a pause. “Confirmed,” the computer replied, the control panel turning yellow and dimming, “Previous destination confirmed, fuel sufficient. Authorities contacted. Distress call sent.”

Jayk breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

“Thank the gods for auto-cruise,” he said to himself, staring longingly out into the night at the stars and thinking of his favorite old chair and bookcase ...

... where he would sit and read for hours on end. He spent his evenings in the ragged old chair with the little one curled up in his lap as he made the stories come to life for him, since the little one could not read the books himself. At night, he slept in the big bed with that same little one spooned up against him, warm and secure. By day, he ran the Ruins and soon knew every inch of the place. He ran up and down stairs in long abandoned buildings which rose into the very sky, his young body becoming hard and lithe with each passing day. He let himself fall down old sewer openings to run for hours on end until he emerged into the Brushline. Some days, he would be gone well into the evening, returning from the Forest only when he had filled his pack with the things that he found there.

By nightfall, he would be back in the big room with the little one once again in his lap, listening to tales of forgotten times and heroes too strange to believe. And in the morning, it would all begin again as the days became weeks and the Savage Season and Storms passed. Yet even the Storms with their Rains, which often damaged some of the oldest buildings of the Ruins, did not stop him. And when the Summertime came and the Flats were too hot to cross, he would take his little one with him out into the Ruins to where they could just barely see the spires of the farthest edge of the Old City where some of their friends lived in secret.

One by one, the Summertime days came and went and he grew imperceptibly older and stronger - and bigger. He was never sick, and by the end of Summertime and into Colorfall, the little one was walking again and following his every step wherever he went. Amazingly, before the leaves had all blown off of the trees, he made the trip to the Forest with him to be greeted by what seemed to be an ocean of fire which burned over the tops of them and touched at the deep blue sky.

Finally, on one especially cold and windy Whitetime night, after the little one had fallen asleep in his lap to the tale of how Perseus had crossed the river Styx and descended into Hades, Xyn arose from their favorite old chair with Tym in his well-muscled arms. He put the little one to bed, covering him gently with the heavy blankets, and went to the closet. He pulled the heavy oaken door open and stared in at the too-small and ragged tunics and funny camouflage clothing for hiding in the Brushline. He stared at the clean, white Suit hanging next to them, and scratched up under his shoulder length brown hair at his round ear. He pulled off his hooded sweatshirt, suppressing a laugh, and then slid out of his multi-pocket pants. The rug was soft and warm under his bare feet as he padded over to stand in front of the antique mirror.

He shook the hair out of his blue-gray eyes and gazed at the reflection of the no-longer little one for a long time, lost in the curves and contours of the well-forming body that shone back at him. He flexed his arms, watching the biceps rise. He tightened his stomach, and satisfied with the ridges that appeared from just below the nipples to his waist, relaxed. He was, he realized with a start, becoming an Adult. True, he had only begun to seriously change and had far yet to go. His face was still smooth and his arms and legs virtually hairless. His voice still cracked and warbled on occasion, but he was growing well and fast for a pure Bio. He then became erect, and reaching down to stroke the several inches and enlarged orbs of his XY-Parts, he felt a flash of regret - then shame. He gazed at the hair that grew around them in distaste. His body shivered, and he pulled his hand back. It felt good, but it was also painful. The memory was simply too much, and he just couldn’t put Tym through another episode of it. The little Mutant had suffered enough on his own without adding Xyn’s suffering and loss to it.

“I cannot go on like this,” he whispered to the young XY in the mirror, “I miss him so bad.”

The Stranger in the ornate mirror didn’t reply.

Then, for the first time in almost a full Cycle, he risked the terrible headache that he knew was coming and fully powered up his Psi.

He had at last made his decision.

All of the planning was finally over. It was time to act.

Chriss, he called out quietly, as Tym whimpered in his sleep. He went quickly to the bed and sat down softly, placing a hand on the little Mutant’s brow. Tym smiled in his sleep, a small hand coming up from under the blankets to hold his. Chriss, come to my room before you go to bed. Bring Adam, too.