Hurricane (Hive Mind Book 3) Page 7

  The sight of his emotion drew me into letting down my guard and talking more openly myself. “I was taken to Hive Futura for my training too. Like you, I was sedated for the flight there, and found the idea of flying back very frightening. You may have heard there was a reason why Halloween stories about the Truesun scared me more than those about the hunter of souls. All through the journey, I kept thinking of how the Truesun was on the other side of the aircraft wall, trying to find a chance to blind me.”

  “You remained conscious for the whole of the return journey then?” asked Morton.

  “Yes.”

  “I had to be sedated. The whole experience of going to Hive Futura was traumatic for me. I have never left the Hive again. I will never leave the Hive again even if my life depends on it.”

  Morton paused for a moment, and seemed to be watching me closely as he spoke again. “I’m told that you have now fully acclimatized to going Outside.”

  “My Strike team, my Tactical Commander, and I had to overcome our fear to go Outside and apprehend a target that threatened the Hive,” I said defensively. “I wouldn’t claim to have fully acclimatized to it though. The scale of Outside is indescribable, and conditions vary drastically at different times of the year due to something called seasons. I’ve only spent a small amount of time there, so I’ve only encountered a few of the possibilities.”

  “I applaud your courage in going Outside at all.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m told you didn’t just go Outside in daylight though. You’ve spent nights Outside as well.”

  I wished I could read Morton’s thoughts as he said those words. No matter what he’d learned as an adult, no matter what logic told him, the childhood tales of Halloween still had power over the deepest levels of his mind.

  Morton still believed in the existence of the hunter of souls and his demon pack. Was he picturing the man in the black cloak and the red-eyed helm sneaking up on me while I was sleeping Outside? Was he imagining the hunter of souls kneeling at my side to give me the demon kiss? Did Morton believe that the hunter’s wild breath had possessed me, transforming me into a member of his nightmare pack?

  Morton’s next words confirmed my theory was right. “Are you sure those nights Outside haven’t affected you at all? Haven’t changed you in some way?”

  There was no point in me trying to reassure Morton by telling him the Halloween stories were a myth. Their grip on him was too strong to be broken, so I needed to argue using the rules of the Halloween stories themselves.

  “Remember the Halloween story of the sleepwalking child. The hunter of souls invaded her dreams and lured her out of the Hive. She woke to find herself in the darkness of Outside, with the hunter of souls and his pack raging in fury around her, but they were powerless to harm her. Although she was physically Outside, her unshakeable loyalty and faith in the Hive protected her, and at dawn the light angel came to lead her safely home.”

  Morton looked thoughtful. “It’s true that the real defence against the influence of Outside isn’t the strength of the walls of the Hive but the strength of our loyalty.”

  I nodded, and drove home my argument with the rest of the story. “When the child re-entered the Hive, she was welcomed by a crowd of people, but one man challenged her. He said the child must have been recruited into the demon pack and should be sent back Outside. The child replied saying that members of the pack couldn’t sing the Hive Duty songs, and then sang Hive Duty song number ten.”

  I paused before self-consciously starting singing.

  “The Hive is our world.

  It houses and feeds us.

  The Hive is our world.

  It guards and protects us.”

  Morton laughed and seemed to relax. “Yes, and then the child challenged the man to sing the song, and when he tried his true appearance and identity was revealed. The hunter of souls had disguised himself to make a last attempt to entrap the child, but she led the crowd in singing the Hive Duty song, and the power of its words drove him back Outside.”

  We seemed to have successfully dealt with the dangerous subject of me going Outside, because Morton was looking at me with approval now. Ever since I’d been told I was a telepath, I’d been accumulating a list of questions I wanted to ask other telepaths, and I couldn’t resist taking this chance to ask the most important one.

  “Could you please explain something to me? Why is there a rule that true telepaths mustn’t meet?”

  Morton’s expression flickered for an instant. Lucas was an expert behavioural analyst. He’d have been able to tell whether that reaction was because of alarm, anger, or some other emotion. I couldn’t.

  “Sapphire told me you’d asked her that question,” said Morton.

  I was startled. Morton disapproved of Sapphire, but they still talked to each other, and they’d talked to each other about me.

  “You have been told the rule that telepaths should not meet,” said Morton. “You have not been told the reason for that rule because the Hive only inflicts troubling knowledge on its loyal members when they have absolute need of it to perform their work. The Hive knows best in this matter.”

  There was only one acceptable reply to that, so I gave it. “The Hive always knows best.”

  Morton clearly considered that ended the discussion of this subject, but I risked continuing to argue my case.

  “Telepaths are in a very different situation from other members of the Hive though. We can’t help learning random knowledge from the minds we read.”

  Morton frowned. “Yes. You’ll discover that learning random knowledge is not a good thing, Amber. I have seen things in the minds of others that I wish I could forget but can’t. They have haunted my dreams, driving me to the point of asking for my memories of them to be erased, but my request was refused. The Hive knows only too well that tampering with the minds of telepaths may damage their abilities.”

  I was unnerved, not so much by Morton’s words but by the look in his eyes when he said them.

  “Curiosity is a dangerous trait in a telepath,” said Morton. “An appalling burden of knowledge is forced upon us. It is unwise to add to that burden by deliberately asking to know more.”

  Morton wasn’t going to answer my questions, so I tried another approach.

  “I’ve only been a telepath for a few months, while you have four decades of experience. I’d be grateful for any advice you could give me.”

  “Every telepath follows their own unique path, Amber, but I believe three pieces of advice hold true for all of us. I have already told you the first. You should curb your curiosity.”

  I felt it was unnecessary for Morton to keep emphasizing that, but gave a dutiful nod of acceptance.

  “The second piece of advice is that your Strike team will constantly care for you, cosset you, and carry you. That can give you a false sense of security. You must always remember that your Strike team can only fight the physical battles for you. Mental battles are far more deadly, and you must fight them completely alone.”

  This time my nod of acceptance was perfectly genuine. “I’ve already discovered the threat posed by the echoes of my targets. Should I be prepared to face any other dangers?”

  “I can’t warn you about other specific dangers,” said Morton. “As I said, all telepaths follow their own unique path, so we face different problems. My Tactical Commander has informed me that you feel far more of your target’s emotions than the rest of us. I suspect that will make your path as a telepath especially hazardous.”

  I didn’t say anything. I’d hoped to get some helpful advice from Morton, but that comment wasn’t helpful at all.

  “My third piece of advice is to control your behaviour carefully,” said Morton. “The members of your unit are all imprinted with the fact that telepaths can break under the pressure of their work. Your people will do everything possible to ease the strain on you by making your life outside your work relaxed and pleasurable.”

  Th
ere was a peculiar, pained expression on his face as he continued speaking. “The actions of ordinary Hive members are constrained by the opinions of others, but the people in your unit will indulge you rather than criticize you, Amber. That can lead you to extremes of personal conduct, where ignoring the rights and feelings of others endangers yourself and those around you. Such conduct led to one of Keith’s own unit members stabbing him.”

  I frowned. Keith had wanted that stabbing incident kept strictly secret. In theory, only Keith’s unit members and the Tactical Commanders of the other Telepath Units knew about it. I’d learnt about it from Lucas though, and Morton had presumably seen the knowledge in Saanvi’s mind.

  “Others will not judge you, Amber,” said Morton, “so you must learn to judge yourself against the highest standards. Both Keith and Sapphire indulge themselves with undesirable practices, but you should avoid copying them. I’m aware you are currently engaged in an irregular, intimate relationship with your Tactical Commander. You should either regularize that relationship or abandon it.”

  I was outraged. “My relationship with Lucas isn’t irregular, and it isn’t any business of yours either!”

  “You asked me for advice, Amber,” said Morton coldly. “Nearly forty years ago, Claire warned me I had to put limits on my behaviour.”

  I blinked. Claire was the telepath who’d lived in my unit before me. When she died, the unit had been shut down for a few years, and then opened again when Lottery discovered me.

  Every wall had been redecorated before I arrived. All the equipment had been replaced. The carpets and furniture were all new. There was no trace of Claire left here, but I still had an odd feeling as if a ghost had appeared next to me. Claire had lived in this apartment before me, walked the corridors of this unit, and sat in its park. She had served the Hive faithfully as a telepath for seventy-five years.

  “My wife, Celandine, died because I did not listen to Claire’s warning,” said Morton. “For nearly four decades, my penance has been to live my life according to the strictest of rules. I suggest you learn to moderate your conduct now before your actions result in anything so irredeemable happening to someone you love.”

  Morton’s holo vanished, and I realized he’d ended the call. I stood staring at the blank wall of the bookette room, struggling to absorb what I’d been told. Morton’s wife had died nearly forty years ago, and he blamed himself for her death. Why had Morton flung that revelation at me? Why had he ended the call without giving me the chance to reply to it? Why had he called me at all?

  Nothing about Morton’s call made any sense. He’d claimed he wanted to thank me for taking over his target, but then started talking about my trips Outside. The whole conversation seemed to have rambled aimlessly, as if he’d called me for a specific reason but was dodging getting to the point. He’d finally told me about his wife’s death and ended the call. Did that mean the real purpose of the call had been to tell me about Celandine?

  I tugged at my hair in frustration. Why would Morton call me, a total stranger, to confess his guilt about his wife’s death? What had happened between him and Celandine four decades ago? I desperately wanted to discuss this with Lucas, but I couldn’t because of that wretched rule about telepaths not meeting.

  I groaned. I hated keeping my conversations with other telepaths secret from Lucas. I had no choice though. Lucas was my Tactical Commander. If I confided in him that telepaths had a way to contact each other, it would put him in an impossible position. As my partner, Lucas would understand how vital this contact with other telepaths was to me. As my Tactical Commander, his duty would be to report the illegal calls and ensure the communication channel was blocked.

  It wouldn’t be fair to make Lucas choose between me and his duty to the Hive. I’d have to think through Morton’s call by myself, but I couldn’t do that now. I’d told Lucas that I needed to talk to Eli, which was perfectly true.

  I tugged at my hair again, forced myself to focus my thoughts on Eli’s problems, and tapped at my dataview to call him.

  “Amber.” Eli’s surprised face appeared on my dataview screen.

  I was trained to respond to the names of my Strike team by automatically linking to their minds. The sight of Eli’s face had the same effect now. I found myself in a mind where the top levels of thoughts were calmly focused on my unexpected call, but those nearer the subconscious were a whirling morass of fear.

  Eli loved his work. His leg injury had nearly ended his career, but he’d battled the pain and fought his way back to operational fitness. Now he was panicking at the thought of putting his life in a surgeon’s hands again. He wasn’t sure he had the strength to fight his way back to fitness a second time. He didn’t even know what this follow-up operation would involve, and he was too afraid to ask.

  “I don’t want to interfere,” I said, “but I’ve obviously noticed you worrying about having a second operation on your leg. If it would help you, then I’d be happy to talk to your surgeon for you.”

  The panic in Eli’s thoughts was abruptly replaced with hope. “If you could do that, it would be wonderful. I’ve got some questions I need answering, but the idea of talking to the man who operated on my leg …”

  I could see the fear taking over his mind again as he thought about the operation, so I hastily interrupted him. “There’s no need to distress yourself by explaining this to me, Eli. I’ve seen your thoughts about it, and know all the questions you’ll want me to ask your surgeon. Why you need the operation, what will be done to you, and how long it will take you to recover?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’ll talk to the surgeon and find out all your answers,” I said. “The unit is in twenty-four hour shutdown now, so try to stop worrying and catch up on the sleep you’ve been missing.”

  Eli gave a sigh of relief. “I’m so grateful, Amber.”

  “Sleep!” I ordered.

  I ended the call, sent a message to Megan asking her to arrange for me to meet with Eli’s surgeon, and then went back to where Lucas was eating his meal. Inevitably, he looked at my expression and frowned.

  “Something has upset you, Amber. Is Eli all right?”

  I shook my head. “I can’t discuss the private things I’ve seen in Eli’s mind.”

  “Respectfully point out that Eli’s pretence of everything being normal may fool his friends on the Strike team, but I’m fully aware he’s suffering from posttraumatic stress after his injury. He’s terrified of having another operation.”

  “Yes. Eli is the Strike team comedian, so his friends sometimes make the mistake of thinking he’s happy all the time, but he has problems like anyone else.”

  Lucas pulled a face. “I played the clown for most of my five years on Teen Level, so I’ve personal experience of how the comedy act can hide anxiety and depression. If there’s anything I can do to help Eli, please tell me.”

  “Megan has already reassured me that Eli’s surgeon is rated as one of the most skilled in the Hive,” I said. “I’ve asked her to arrange for me to meet him, so I can ask some questions that are troubling Eli.”

  Lucas nodded. “In that case, you’ve done everything you can to care for Eli. Now you need to care for yourself. The unit goes into mandatory twenty-four hour shutdown after an emergency run because it’s important for us all to have time to relax and recover, and it’s especially important for you. What would you like to do now?”

  Lucas was right. I’d done everything I could for Eli. Now I had to stop myself from brooding on Morton’s call or Lucas would realize something else was bothering me.

  I thought that physical activity would be the best distraction. Lucas and I often went swimming in the unit pool, but the repetitive movements of swimming could encourage rather than discourage thought. The Level 67 beach dress I was wearing gave me a better idea.

  “I’ve been to a beach and not even set foot in the water. Would it be too silly of me to want to go to the unit park and wade in the lake?”

>   Lucas laughed. “That sounds exactly the right amount of silliness. Just give me two minutes to change into beach clothes myself.”

  Chapter Eight

  Lucas changed into faded beach clothes that were relics from his years on Teen Level, and we headed to the park. I forgot about Morton as Lucas and I splashed around at the edge of the lake, having a water fight that left both of us drenched. Afterwards, we lay on the grass enjoying the warmth of the park suns, while Lucas teased me by filling his mind with wicked fantasy images of what he’d like to do next.

  Eventually, we squelched our way back to our apartment, and lay in the sleep field making some of those fantasy images into reality. I slept solidly for several hours after that, but then my restless mind woke me up with renewed worries about my conversation with Morton.

  The room lighting was set to minimum, but the wall next to me glowed with an image of one of Sofia’s wall paintings, showing a cluster of the colourful birds in our park. I turned to look at where Lucas floated beside me in the sleep field. He was three years older than me, but with his light-brown hair tangled, and his face relaxed in sleep, you could believe he was still a teen.

  Waste it! If Morton’s wife had died nearly forty years ago, then the two of them couldn’t have been much older than Lucas and me. What had gone wrong between them? How did Celandine die? Whatever had happened back then, Morton felt his actions had caused her death, and was still punishing himself for it.

  Was Morton piling guilt on himself over nothing, or had his behaviour genuinely been a key factor in Celandine’s death? Was there a danger that something similar could happen to Lucas and me?

  I stared at Lucas’s sleeping face. I didn’t know how I’d cope with losing Lucas in any circumstances, but if I knew I was the one who’d caused his death … No, that was too painful to imagine.