"That sounds worse than forensic health," the chemistry researcher remarked.
"It often smells worse too," Marek added.
The student grimaced. "Fine. But you are going to investigate."
"Yes."
There was no point denying it. The student nodded as though he had accomplished something.
Through the smeared glass window, the city kept going past. The air conditioning inside the armored transport struggled, leaving the cramped cabin smelling of stale sweat and hot synthetic fabric. Knowing Project Meridian existed did not mean he could simply walk into a government office and ask for the file.
The people handling Meridian equipment tonight had already confiscated everything they could reach. They had prepared recovery orders.
Prepared classifications and control procedures.
Someone had known before any of these happened.
And if his father had discovered something about the same project eleven years ago, then there was a chance the official report about his disappearance had been incomplete.
Or... false.
Marek did not know which one was the truth. That was exactly the problem.
He needed access. Information. Enough control over his Mark that the government could not simply put him in another room and tell him to wait.
The thought bothered him slightly. Not because he wanted power.
He had never particularly wanted power before. But he was beginning to understand that power and permission were becoming dangerously similar things. People with information could decide what everyone else was allowed to know. People with weapons could decide where everyone else was allowed to go.
And now people with stronger Astral abilities would probably begin doing the same.
The dark-red scale sat beneath his collarbone. If that was how this new world worked, he had no intention of remaining helpless inside it.
The vehicle suddenly slowed, the brakes whining sharply.
Everyone looked toward the front. A civilian bus blocked part of the road. Its front wheels had gone over the curb. Several windows were broken.
There was nobody inside.
The driver maneuvered around it carefully, the engine growling in a low gear.
The security officer studied the bus. "Fresh damage."
The chemistry researcher frowned. "How can you tell?"
"The hazard lights are still on."
The amber bulbs blinked through the dim street.
The student leaned closer to the window. "There is blood."
A dark smear crossed one of the bus doors. The officer turned away. "Keep moving."
The driver increased speed. Another abandoned car appeared farther ahead. Then came another. The street became even quieter for some reason.
Too quiet.
The emergency sirens they had been hearing almost constantly were suddenly distant, swallowed by the concrete.
The student noticed. "Where is everyone?"
The officer touched his radio again.
"Control, Convoy Three. Approaching North Junction."
Static.
"Control?"
Nothing.
The driver’s face had gone pale. "This is getting worse."
"Keep going."
Out the opposite window, several storefronts had been forced open. One had its entire glass front shattered, the shards glittering like spilled ice over the pavement.
A pharmacy. Shelves inside had been emptied.
Another building had smoke coming from one of the upper windows, carrying the acrid stench of burning plastic into the van’s air intake. There were no firefighters. Neither the police were there nor the civilians.
Only the convoy.
The maintenance worker shifted. "I don’t like this."
"You seemed calm before," the student replied.
"I work maintenance."
"So?"
"When a building suddenly becomes quiet, something is usually broken."
"That is surprisingly applicable."
The security officer raised one hand. Everyone stopped talking.
The radio had activated. "Route Eight secure. Proceed through North Junction."
The driver visibly relaxed, exhaling a long breath.
The security officer did not. He stared at the receiver. Then, pressed it.
"Control, confirm Route Eight secure."
No answer.
The same voice returned. "Route Eight secure. Proceed."
The officer’s expression changed.
"Problem?"
"That was not Control."
"What?"
"The authentication tone didn’t play."
The driver immediately hit the brakes. The tires screamed against the asphalt.
Too late.
Something moved across the intersection ahead. At first, Marek thought it was another vehicle. Then, he realized it was a concrete traffic barrier. The entire barrier slid sideways.
The entire barrier slid sideways. Faster than anything that heavy should move.
It crossed the road directly in front of the lead security vehicle. The driver of the lead vehicle tried to turn. The barrier struck its front quarter.
Metal folded inward with a deafening crunch.
The vehicle lifted partially from the road before smashing sideways into a streetlight. The streetlight bent. Glass exploded across the pavement like a gunshot. Their driver swore and turned the wheel.
Someone outside shouted.
Marek saw him for less than a second. A man wearing gray detention trousers stood near the intersection. A red Aries Mark burned along his forearm.
His hand remained extended toward the concrete barrier. The barrier had stopped moving.
Their van had not.
It swerved hard. The chemistry researcher grabbed the side of her seat. The student shouted. The security officer reached for his weapon. Something hard hit the van.
Marek’s shoulder slammed against the wall. The impact rattled his teeth. The maintenance worker caught himself against the floor.
The vehicle tilted.
Another impact struck the opposite side.
"What was that?" the student shouted.
Nobody answered.
The van struck the curb. Everyone lurched forward. Marek caught the seat in front of him before his face reached it. The red scale beneath his collarbone pulsed.
The First Motion inside it reacted.
For one unpleasant moment, Marek felt pressure spread beneath his skin. Then, the black circle pulled it back.
The officer fired through the front passenger window.
Two shots. The concussive blasts were painfully loud inside the metal box, filling the cramped air with the sharp reek of cordite.
Someone outside screamed.
Then, another voice shouted, "Down!"
The officer immediately dropped. A metal road sign came through the window with a violent shriek. It crossed the front cabin and embedded itself halfway into the opposite wall.
The student stared at it. "That was a sign."
"Yes."
"I know that. I mean—"
"I know what you meant."
The officer raised his weapon again. "Stay down!"
This time nobody needed to be told. Gunfire came from outside. Several rounds struck the van, pinging off the exterior like metallic hail. The reinforced body stopped some of them.
One punched through the rear panel. The chemistry researcher covered her head. The maintenance worker pulled her lower without thinking.
His blue scale flashed.
Marek noticed.
The man noticed too. "What?"
"Your Mark."
The blue light faded. "I didn’t do anything."
"You grabbed her."
The man turned his hand over.
The chemistry researcher slowly moved away from him. "Did you take something?"
"I don’t know."
Another impact struck the vehicle. This was not the time. Something heavy hit the rear doors. The locking bar bent inward. The officer twisted around.
"Everyone away from the back!"
They moved forward as much as the cramped vehicle allowed.
The rear doors shook again.
Metal screamed. Outside, several people were shouting.
One voice laughed.
Another voice shouted, "Check the transport!"
"Government?"
"Yeah!"
"What’s inside?"
Someone answered, "People."
The student whispered, "That is technically true."
Marek looked at him. "Not helping."
"I learned from you."
"That is unfortunate."
The chemistry researcher stared at both of them. "Can we not do this now?"
"Yes," Marek said.
The student nodded. "Agreed."
A gunshot hit the rear door. Then another. The officer fired through the gap near the front cabin. Someone outside cursed.
Marek looked toward the driver. The man was slumped forward. Blood covered the side of his face. Marek strained forward to check the rhythm of his breathing, but the crumpled metal of the partition blocked his reach.
The vehicle was no longer moving.
That was worse.
The officer tried his radio. "Convoy Three under attack at North Junction! Multiple Awakened detainees! Driver injured! Request immediate—"
He was cut off by another voice, but not exactly another. His own voice came through the radio instead. Perfectly copied.
"Convoy Three secure. No assistance required."
The officer froze.
Everyone heard it.
"You did not say that," the student said.
"No." Marek did not need the interface to identify the Sign.
Gemini.
Another transmission followed.
Again, in the officer’s exact voice.
"Repeat. Convoy Three secure."
The officer ripped the receiver from his vest. "Damn it."
"This is bad." The chemistry researcher’s forehead creased.
"Yes."
"How bad?"
"Other units may believe it."
"They won’t. The transmission codes are wrong..."
He paused for a while and continued, "Probably."
The student stared at him. "You could have stopped before the last word."
"I could have."
The rear doors shook again.
Harder.
The locking bar bent farther inward. Marek could now see through the gap. A large man stood outside. Gray detention uniform. Bare feet. Blood across one side of his head.
A golden Taurus Mark spread from his neck toward his upper chest. He gripped both rear doors. The officer raised his weapon. The Taurus-marked man pulled. The metal frame warped, shrieking against the force.
The officer fired.
One round struck the man’s shoulder.
He jerked slightly. Then found the wound.
Blood appeared.
The man looked back inside. "Oh."
The officer fired again.
The Taurus man moved aside. A different person appeared behind him.
A woman.
Marek saw a Gemini Mark across both palms.
She smiled.
Then spoke in the officer’s voice, "Don’t shoot."
The officer hesitated for less than a second.
That was enough.
A hand reached through the damaged doorway. The Taurus man grabbed the barrel of the officer’s weapon.
The officer pulled back.
The cold steel warped in the detainee’s grip.
The officer released it immediately. "Back!"
Everyone moved. There was almost nowhere left to go. The chemistry researcher pressed against the side of the van.
The student turned to Marek. "Can’t you do anything?"
"With what?"
"You took that woman’s injury, I mean that woman from the laboratory."
"That does not mean I can do anything using it."
"You don’t know?"
"No."
"Could now be a good time to find out?"
Marek looked toward the red scale. The First Motion was still inside.
He could feel it.
Contained.
He did not know how to release it, or whether doing so inside the van would kill someone. It could even return to Elia. Or it would simply begin rupturing his own organs.
"No."
The student stared at him. "That was a very fast answer."
"I had several reasons."
The maintenance worker raised his arm. His blue scale was brighter now. "What about mine?"
"You don’t know what is inside yours," Marek said.
"I know."
"Then, definitely no."
The chemistry researcher touched her green scale. "Mine came off a spill."
"Also no."
The student checked his own Mark. Every scale was black. "I suddenly feel less left out."
The rear doors shook.
"What happens if they get inside?" Marek asked.
"They take the vehicle."
"That was not what I meant."
The officer understood. He glanced at the four Ophiuchus Bearers. Then toward the rear doors. "I don’t know."
Nobody knew what Ophiuchus could actually do.
Including the four people sitting inside the vehicle.
The words appeared inside Marek’s sight.
[UNCONTROLLED VARIABLES DETECTED]
[MULTIPLE HAZARDOUS CONDITIONS PRESENT]
Marek focused. The world did not disappear. The gunshots did not become quieter. The shouting remained outside.
But his attention narrowed.
The Aries man. Taurus. Gemini. Several others he could not see. Weapons. Injured driver. Damaged vehicle. Three other Ophiuchus Bearers whose Marks were carrying things nobody fully understood.
Marek’s interface changed.
[CASE BOUNDARY INCOMPLETE.]
He stared at the words, unable to define what that boundary actually required.
The Taurus man grabbed the doors again.
The officer pulled a sidearm from his ankle. "Stay behind me."
The student looked around the cramped van. "Where?"
The officer did not answer.
The Taurus man pulled. The locking bar snapped with a sharp crack. One rear door bent outward. Followed by another.
The chemistry researcher moved back, while the maintenance worker raised both hands without knowing what he intended to do with them.
The student went completely pale.
Marek remained where he was.
The Taurus-marked man pulled one final time. Both rear doors tore free. They struck the pavement behind him. The man looked inside.
For several seconds, nobody moved. His eyes passed over the four black circles surrounded by thirteen scales each.
He stopped.
Someone behind him shouted, "What is it?"
The Taurus man stared at Marek’s Mark. "I don’t know."
For once, that answer was coming from the other side. Then, another escaped prisoner stepped beside the Taurus man.
He saw the Marks.
His expression changed immediately. "Wait."
The Taurus man frowned.
"What?"
The other prisoner took one step backward. "Those are the ones they said not to piss off."
Marek stared at him.
The security officer stared at him.
The student slowly turned toward Marek. Apparently, Dr. Mercer’s warning had reached the criminals and detainees, too.
Marek had no idea how.
And judging from the way the Taurus man was now looking at him, neither did he. Then, the red scale beneath Marek’s collarbone lit up.
The Taurus man immediately stepped back.
Marek looked down at it.
He had not done that.
[FOREIGN CONDITION DETECTED.]
[TRANSFER ATTEMPT IN PROGRESS.]
Marek froze. ’What?’
Something outside the van was trying to enter his Mark.