Ayers

By Andrei Cherascu

AYERS is a prequel to THE MINDGUARD SAGA. Set a few months before the events of MINDGUARD, it can be read as a stand-alone or at any point in the series.

 

In the corrupt city of Mei Jhabo, a mysterious new thoughtenhancer has devastating effects on the consumer's brain. Its emergence is linked to the sudden rise of one of the city's most violent drug gangs. Leading the fight against it, Commissioner Celia Wallace employs the services of the famous Ayers-Ross Thoughtprotection Agency. Their mission: retrieve an undercover agent sent to infiltrate the gang and protect the information inside his mind.

For ambitious young telepath Alex Lea, this seems like the perfect opportunity to prove that he is a worthy successor to his idol, legendary Mindguard Sheldon Ayers. But, in this profession, the course of things can change in an instant.

After an ambush leaves him separated from his team, Alex must learn to become his own guardian first. Pushed to the limits of his ability, he comes across an enemy far more dangerous than anyone suspects and a plot that threatens the safety of the entire Federation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andrei Cherascu
• Release date: Dec 23, 2016
• ISBN: 9781386269069

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Ayers

by Andrei Cherascu

Copyright © 2016 by Andrei Cherascu

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, places or events is entirely coincidental.

To the memory of Picky,

Because our souls are one.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 0

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Prologue

Pessora Jungle, Rho Massa

January 19, 2324, Terra Antiqua Standard Calendar

The outcome was never in doubt. Once he found them, their fate was sealed. He would destroy their operation, burn down everything they’d built, and seize everything they owned. He would feed their bodies to the animals. But he had to find them in time—Sheldon’s life depended on it.

Deep inside, he knew it was too late. He tried not to think about it. He was there now, and he needed to focus on the only thing that mattered: bringing pain and death to the men who had hurt his best friend.

Damn it, Sheldon, Maclaine Ross growled as he exited the cover of the trees and opened fire on the rebel forces.

His men reacted as though he had just said, Attack! From behind their leader, they spread out, shooting with purpose. Mac’s orders had been clear—Take no prisoners!

They had captured Sheldon. Recklessly, he had walked right into the lion’s den. Mac knew he shouldn’t have allowed him to take part in a mission so soon after Kinsey’s death, but how could you tell a man like Sheldon you didn’t trust his judgment? It was impossible, even for Mac.

Damn it, Sheldon!

The way things were going, this would soon become the company motto.

Mindguards who were captured by the enemy didnot survive. There was no reason to keep them alive. They were the only thing standing between the captors and the information package they sought, so they were promptly executed. Every time.

In spite of that, Mac had to tell himself that Sheldon was still alive. He had to do it so he could maintain enough sanity to punish the murderers.

He screamed with rage as he shot at his enemies. Energy blasts burned through their flesh, tearing frightful cries from dying throats. Their own weapons barely slowed him down. He enjoyed seeing their terrified expressions when they realized they couldn’t hurt him. For their level of firepower, his body was virtually indestructible. All the while, his mind was under the impregnable protection of Isabel Mensah, who was a few feet behind him, flanked by a Rho Massa military task force.

As Mac advanced unharmed by their attack, the rebels froze in place, unsure of whether they should try to fight or run from the raging giant hurtling toward them. It did not prove a hard decision.

Some looked for cover behind the buildings, where they were swiftly taken down by the other Bodyguards. Others tried to vanish into the jungle, where they were met by military fire.

Sheldon dead.

Even as he was fighting, a part of Mac’s mind couldn’t help but imagine being at his best friend’s funeral, delivering the eulogy, telling strangers about Sheldon’s life.

What was there to say? What could he say that they would even understand?

Goodbye, Sheldon, this imaginary Mac said, throwing a piece of gravel into the grave of the man he loved like a brother. With those words, he also said goodbye to the world.

Amid enemy fire, with his body absorbing shots and healing almost instantly, Mac dropped his weapon and let out a grieving howl that must have frightened the rebels more than whatever beasts roamed this jungle at night.

They no longer looked like freedom fighters. Now, they looked like scared little boys.

As his team fired mercilessly, turning trees to ashes and men to meat, Mac leaped towards the man closest to him, wrapping his large hands around his neck. He wanted to ask him what they had done with Sheldon’s body, but the temptation to kill him was too great. Forgive me, Father, he prayed, as he crushed his enemy’s throat.

All of their lives as payment for Sheldon’s—that was how it was going to be.

He didn’t care about the Defense Minister’s orders. He didn’t care about the government of Rho Massa. He didn’t even care about the mission.

There was no more mission. Sheldon was dead!

One of the rebels attacked him with a knife and Mac almost had to laugh. He grabbed the blade in the palm of his hand, ignoring the pain, knowing that the wound would close within seconds. He seized the knife and drove it into the man’s skull, enjoying the warm feeling of blood on his fingers.

Around him, he heard cries of pain. His auditory insertions quickly registered that none of the voices belonged to his teammates. Good, he thought, lunging at another enemy.

He grabbed the man’s head, squeezing it like a vise. What did you do to my Mindguard? he tried to articulate, though what came out was more growl than speech. The man’s response was a scream, as Mac’s strength sent death signals through the nerve endings in his head.

What did you do to my Mindguard? Mac repeated, more coherently this time, though the man was likely deafened by the throbbing pain. The look in his eyes suggested his brain was no longer in the condition to produce coherent thoughts. Deeming him useless, Mac squeezed harder. He couldn’t hear the cracking noises, but he could feel them in his tactile receptors as the osseous tissue caved and his fingers dove into the mush that was now the man’s skull.

As a devout Christian, Mac understood the gravity of the sins he was committing. He was prepared to face the consequences. God didn’t matter now—only Sheldon.

Sheldahn’s here, Isabel said, snapping him out of his rampage. He’s alive!  

What? Mac shouted. Isabel, what?

Sheldahn’s here, she repeated, with a tone of exhilaration Mac had never heard before. He’s alive, Mac. I can feel his thought timbre. But it is very weak.

Where? Where is he?

He started running towards her as his men pushed the rebels further back into the jungle, forcing them to abandon their outpost. The military could take it from there. As far as Mac was concerned, the part of the mission that included the Ayers-Ross Thoughtprotection Agency was finished. He didn’t care if anyone else agreed with him.

What about the Carrier? asked Francois Gaultier, one of the Bodyguards, demonstrating a level of professionalism of which Mac was no longer capable.

I can’t feel the Carrier’s mind, only Sheldahn’s.

Mac was now close enough to hear her real voice instead of its reproduction in his auditory insertions. He grabbed her shoulders and looked into her eyes, noticing in them a look of concern.

Where? Where’s Sheldon, Iz?

Behind this building. In the tent.

She barely finished the sentence before Mac bolted in that direction. He stumbled as he ran, almost losing balance and falling to the ground like a giant oak.

The outpost comprised three wooden buildings, built in haste, and a circular tent most likely used to cover up an interrogation room. Mac burst in, almost ripping open the flap. A thick wooden door led to the underground chamber. He ripped it off its hinges and threw it to the side, then jumped into the dark hole, landing with a heavy thud. His retinal insertions automatically switched to night-vision, revealing a gruesome scene.

There were two men inside. One was dead, the other one alive—but just barely. They were both naked. The Carrier was lying on the floor, still tied to a chair, missing his feet and a piece of his head that had been blown off by an energy weapon. Somehow, he still managed to look better than Sheldon. Mac’s eyes widened at the sight of his friend’s physical state.

Oh Sheldon… oh God…

The Mindguard was also lying on the floor, tied to a chair. His legs were bent at all sorts of unnatural angles, broken in countless places. He had been trampled. His right foot had been burned away by an energy blast, leaving in its place a sickening stump. His head was swollen, making his face almost unrecognizable. His hair stuck to his skin with sweat and blood.

The entire image made Mac queasy, though he had seen far worse in his life. Overwhelmed by the horrifying sight, it took him a moment to notice the strange wheezing sound Sheldon made when he breathed. But he was breathing, and that was a good thing.

A thought flashed through Mac’s mind: Sheldon was alive and the Carrier was dead. It didn’t make any sense. It should have been the other way around. They should have killed the Mindguard the moment they captured him. They had clearly tortured him for information. But why? What information could they possibly have wanted from him? Why was Sheldon alive and the Carrier dead?

He dropped to his knees and crawled over to Sheldon, untying him. He was completely unresponsive. It’s all right, Mac said, holding his friend and gently stroking his bloodied hair. It’s all right. I’m here now.

He wasn’t sure if he rather wished Sheldon would come to and talk to him or remain unconscious throughout the entire ordeal.

It looked bad. It looked horrible—but he was alive! That was all that mattered. All they had to do was keep him alive long enough to get him to a hospital. A few weeks of intensive care and genetic treatments and a few more months of stasis-rehab and he would be good as new.

I’m here, buddy… I’ve got you…

A couple of seconds later, Francois Gaultier descended into the torture chamber. He took a moment to assess the situation, looking around the room in equal parts sadness and confusion, before his gaze stopped on the sight of his Head of Operations cradling the head of the world’s most accomplished Mindguard.

Damn it, Sheldon!

I’m sorry, Mac, Francois said, but Mac didn’t have the strength to answer. The Bodyguard sighed, then quietly climbed out of the awful chamber. Mac could hear him calling for a medical unit.

It’s just you and me, buddy, he whispered to Sheldon. It’s going to be okay, I promise. You’re going to be okay.

Chapter 0

Mei Jhabo, N’harat Seyka

January 18, 2325, Terra Antiqua Standard Calendar

The city of Mei Jhabo had two redeeming qualities. Exactly two and no more.

After sixteen months, Celia Wallace felt entitled to that opinion. There were no hidden layers to Mei Jhabo waiting to be discovered by an adventurous urban explorer, no charming idiosyncrasies that only a local could truly appreciate. In the capital of N’harat Seyka, what you saw was what you got and what you saw was addiction and crime.

Nevertheless, it had its two qualities. The first was that a person could still legally purchase good old-fashioned cigarettes, not just those disgusting advancigs that were the norm in most of the Federation. The second was the city’s beautiful night sky, which was especially spectacular if, like Celia, one had an interest in astronomy.

She lived on the fifth and last floor of an apartment building near the Kamo District. Her apartment had access to a roof terrace, where she would often retreat to smoke, install her holoscope and inspect the night sky.

On this occasion, the sky was cloudless and the weather was perfect. In fact, the weather was always nice in Mei Jhabo, so perhaps there was another redeeming quality to the place after all.

Much like her other hobby, smoking, Celia had picked up amateur astronomy around the time she joined the Department for Oversight of Telepathy and Thoughtenhancers. Since her work often took her to distant places, she had developed a passion for stargazing on foreign worlds. She suspected it was partly her subconscious trying to remind her that there was more to the universe than drugs and crime.

She lit a cigarette as she installed the device and pointed it towards her favorite constellation. It was another sleepless night, but that was normal. Celia got by on far less rest than most people needed. Many an early morning had found her staring at the sky, if only to avoid studying mission files.

She loved this time of night. The only people awake at this hour were the only ones that mattered to her: criminals, their victims and people like her—the equalizers.

She took a drag on her cigarette and exhaled slowly. Meanwhile, she activated the holoscope, enjoying the light-show as the device transmitted its three-dimensional data to her retinal insertions, projecting the star map around her.

The effect was calming. Distant suns glittered like jewels, their extraordinary energy reduced to a sparkling spectacle that existed merely for her enjoyment. She felt like a god at the center of the universe. Slowly, she rotated the map using the motion-sensors in her fingers and delighted as the celestial bodies chased each other around. She didn’t focus on them, but on the infinity beyond. She needed a clear mind—Landau was due to arrive any minute.

Just thinking of Landau Madison made her smile. So typical of him to show up in the dead of night.

Ever since Celia was offered the position of DOTT Commissioner in Mei Jhabo, being away from Landau had been torture. She felt as if a vital part of her was missing—the part that had always felt safe, despite the dangerous situations they’d faced together. She could always count on him to watch her back, and he could count on her. It was what had made them one of the most successful Deep Cover Units in modern DOTT history. Now she felt exposed and vulnerable, working in a city she didn’t like, asked to put her life in the care of people she didn’t trust.

But she had to take the challenge. It was their creed. Landau himself had encouraged her to accept the position. In fact, he had downright threatened to stop talking to her if she backed away from any challenge, ever. That was how they lived their lives.

She hungrily inhaled again, then blew out the smoke towards the Kamo hills.

At that hour, the slum was a blanket of darkness. She could almost smell its stench. This proximity had never bothered her before. Normally, she enjoyed being so close to one of the most dangerous parts of town. From the roof, she could see the hilltop District in its entirety. Usually, that gave her a sense of control, but after the recent events, the view from her roof just made her anxious.

Her anxiety didn’t last long. A few moments later, the peaceful silence of the night was disturbed by Landau’s approaching ride. He was making his usual entrance, tires screeching from a mile away.

Celia smiled. As an undercover agent, Landau was a virtual chameleon, but in his personal life he seemed to try to be as ostentatious as possible. The Mei Jhabo traffic laws forbade flying vehicles, which was fantastic for Landau because tires made a lot of noise.

Just a few seconds after his midnight wake-up call to the world, a text message appeared on her retinal insertions.

Incoming!

She purposefully didn’t answer, just to tease him a bit. Another text followed.

Celia, I’m here. Wake up and get decent, or put out the cigarette and come give me a proper welcome.

She smiled. I know, she replied. I heard you from a mile away!

Good!

As they texted back and forth, she could hear the roaring engine of what she was sure would not be a subtle ride. The vehicles Landau rented on department dime were always cause for laughter at the DOTT. When the black behemoth took the corner, its vulgar headlights blinding vagrants and alley cats alike, Landau sent his last text. What a shit ugly place!

I got it for the view, she answered, watching him park across the street from her building in the only available spot. He got out of the car and looked up, his gaze sweeping the roof in search of her. She looked back at him in utter disbelief at the fact that he was only sixty feet below. Her former partner gave her a small, sarcastic wave, and she mimicked his gesture. His hand then went inside his black jacket, retrieving something she couldn’t see, but could easily guess. A small light flickered as he lit his cigarette.

There’s no smoking inside the building, she texted.

Bullshit, he answered and disappeared through the front door.

Celia hurried back inside, listening for his footsteps in the hallway. The loud thud of his boots made her smile. When he finally appeared, his large frame barely fitting through the doorway, cigarette dangling from his lower lip, Celia had to hold back from jumping into his arms and giving him the biggest hug. He looked around her living room and drew a quick conclusion: What a dump!

Welcome to my luxury penthouse, she said with a broad smile.

He walked over and gave her the hug she’d been reluctant to offer him. They remained that way for over a minute.

Missed you, she said, and he whispered, I know. He finally let go and took a step back, looking into her eyes. That’s why you’re wasting my time with this nickel-and-dime operation.

She chuckled. I needed your nickel-and-dime expertise.

Landau carelessly threw his jacket onto the nearest chair and looked around her living room again, shaking his head.

Celia shrugged. I didn’t have time to clean.

I can see that.

I know you’re a pig, though, so I figured you wouldn’t mind.

I am. And I don’t. And you’ve lived in worse places than this.

Did I ever.

Without asking permission, he walked over to the fridge and studied its content. Celia rolled her eyes. You sure I can’t get you anything?

He pulled out a bottle of diet soda and made a disappointed face, before putting it back inside and rummaging further. He finally found a Scholan beer, which seemed to be to his satisfaction. Sighing, he opened the bottle and downed half its content in the blink of an eye.

So, how’s life? Celia asked.

On Freeland? Fucking boring. Same as always.

Well, I might be able to alleviate your boredom.

I’m counting on it. He let himself drop onto her old couch with a loud thump. Celia was surprised the thing didn’t fall to pieces.

You? he asked.

She just shrugged.

You don’t like this place, do you?

She hesitated for a few seconds. I think I’m just getting tired of all of this.

Landau raised a finger to interrupt her. If you’re going to say ‘I’m too old for this shit’, I will get up and leave.

I liked it better in DCU.

Ah, the curse of the promotion.

Yeah, well…

He laughed. I take it you’re not fond of your new team?

I’m not sure I can trust them. It’s not like Freeland or even Thesydan. She shook her head. It’s a different kind of place.

Yeah, I know. It’s a mess. Looks like one too. That’s why they sent the absolute best agent in the DOTT to clean it up.

The absolute best agent in the DOTT has been cleaning up so many messes in so many places she feels like the world’s most underpaid maid.

Oh, for cryin’ out loud, Celia!

She rolled her eyes. I know it’s hard for you to imagine, but for some of us, life doesn’t just boil down to ‘I want to be a tough-guy.’ There are other things.

Oh, yeah? Like knitting and painting… folk-dancing and stuff? You still got that holoscope?

You still got that drinking habit?

He gave her a loud, gravelly laugh, placing the empty bottle on the coffee table. You bet. He straightened his back. All right, your five minutes of polite small-talk are up. I’m getting bored. Why am I here?

Celia sighed, then nodded, more to herself than to Landau. You’re here for this.

She gave a vocal command and the portable holoprojector on the coffee table sent visual data directly to their retinal insertions. The life-size image of two men materialized in the middle of the room. They were seated on similar chairs, though it was clear from the framing that they had been in different rooms at the time of recording. They sat motionless, staring directly at Celia and Landau with mouths agape and drool dripping from their chins. Celia studied the images carefully, as if she were the one seeing them for the first time. Landau’s expression remained unchanged.

Who are these guys?

"Senators Francis Milhillan and Devon Katidis. Four months ago, the Anti-Corruption Bureau ran an operation that resulted in a number of high-profile arrests. Five N’Harat Seyka Senators and one IFCO Educator were brought in on charges of corruption and tax evasion. They were held in custody at the Mei Jhabo