"Adam? Brennan?" Emma called out. The halls of Sanctuary echoed cavernously. There were no welcoming sounds to greet them, no Brennan poking his head out asking what took them so long, no Adam with a smile at finding Denise.
"This doesn't sound good," Shalimar agreed, taking the optic paralyzer off of Denise. The feral craned her head around: looking, listening, even sniffing the air, going tense at the emptiness.
The kid looked around, her eyes open and huge and taking in every gleaming aspect of her new surroundings. "Wow! Way cool! This is Sanctuary?"
"Not just another safe house," Jesse told Denise, crossing over to the wall to flick the light switch. Nothing happened; nothing turned on. The halls stayed dim, just barely illuminated by the emergency power generators. The lack of light sent eerie shadows lurking in and about everything, and Jesse dodged to avoid barking his shin on a wall planter. "The power's blown. Wonder what happened?"
"I really wonder what happened," Shalimar said, her eyes darting around. If she had had a tail, it would have been twitching. "I don't like this. Emma?"
"Bad vibes," Emma reported. "Bad vibes from Brennan, and I can't feel Adam at all. Nor Kenny." She looked back at them, eyes wide with concern. "I think we'd better look around fast."
"I agree," Jesse said, but glanced over at Shalimar. "Shal? You see anything?"
The feral's eyes had already turned golden, and she looked around her with sense that the others could only begin to imagine. "No one here but us chickens," was her reply. There was no amusement in her voice.
But something else had penetrated the Kilmartin consciousness. "Kenny? Why would Kenny be here?" Then it hit. His face fell. "Oh. You brought him in to replace me. Ow!" he complained as Shalimar punched him in the shoulder one more time. "Shalimar, stop doing that!"
"Then stop being a moron," she told him. "No one can replace you, Jess. And certainly not a computer nerd like Kenny. Remember this: you skipped out, right when we needed you the most! Now, get to work and fix Sanctuary so that we can find Adam and Brennan and the computer geek."
"No, wait." Emma's eyes glazed over. "Shalimar, we need to search Sanctuary first. There's something very wrong here." She gathered herself back to reality, fear already in her face. "Come on. We have to hurry."
Which is how they located Brennan, lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood.
Shalimar found him first. She caught the whiff of blood as soon as they entered the corridor leading to the computer room, and went flying forward, heedless of any possible danger.
"Guys!" There was panic in her scream.
There were only two things that could panic Shalimar Fox, and there was no fire here. Jesse and Emma dashed forward, Denise in their wake.
"Oh, man!" Jesse breathed. Behind him Denise gave a small shriek of dismay. This ain't a fantasy, Denise. This is for real.
The elemental was in trouble. His hand, covered in his own blood, plucked feebly at the hole in his shirt, trying to bat away the pain and maybe keep the rest of his blood from leaking out. Emma dropped to her knees beside him and ripped open the fabric for a better look.
It wasn't encouraging. The hole in Brennan's side looked impossibly huge, and the blood had already begun to clot. It was amazing that he was still alive, although that situation didn't look as though it would continue indefinitely. "We have to get him to the clinic for treatment," Emma said. "Where's Adam?"
"Million dollar question," Jesse said grimly. He held up a blood-encrusted object: a knife. "How much you want to bet that this was left behind by the assassin?"
"And that Adam didn't leave willingly," Shalimar added. She pillowed Brennan's head in her lap. "We're here, Brennan. Everything will be just fine." Praying that her words wouldn't be a lie.
Brennan's eyes wrenched themselves open through sheer willpower. "Adam," he whispered. "Kenny."
"We'll find them," Shalimar promised, dashing a tear from her eye. "We'll find Adam and Kenny, and Adam will be back to help you. We'll save them, and you. Just hang on, Brennan!"
"Kenny," Brennan insisted urgently, not finding the strength to say anything further. Blood appeared at the edge of his lip, dredged from somewhere deep inside.
They carried Brennan to the clinic, depositing him gently onto the med-bed, Emma flying into a flurry of action, trying to remember what Adam had taught her. This went well beyond a few experiments with a Petri dish and a Bunsen burner, but there was no choice. Failure to act would result in a dead elemental, and Emma was not willing to give up. IV's slipped into place, oxygen going over the nose and mouth, and bandages over the wound which appeared even more frightening when cleaned of blood and detritus. There seemed to be important pieces of Brennan hanging out over the edges of the knife slash.
"I'm afraid to give him anything for the pain," Emma muttered. "That could kill him."
Sweat beaded out on Brennan's forehead, and it hurt to see him simply bite his lip against the agony stabbing him in the gut, but not a sound did he make. Not a whimper. Only the knuckles whitened in their grasp on the sheet covering his legs betrayed him.
Emma came to a decision. "I need room to work," she announced quietly.
"Emma?"
But the psionic had already moved into action. There was one area—psionics—that she was an expert in, and she would make use of her expertise to help this man that she cared so deeply about. She didn't need it, but tactile contact facilitated the connection. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, she gently touched Brennan's temples and entered his mind.
Different people experienced pain in different fashions, and sometimes the type of pain was reflected in the images that each brought forth. Brennan was no exception. Emma did not deliberately go into the minds of her teammates—in fact, only ventured forth when needed—but sometimes, late at night when dreams were the most vivid, their thoughts would come to her unbidden, inviting her to play in another mutant's fantasies. Some times she did—the thrill of the hunt from her feral sister, and the feeling of 'sand sifting through fingertips' sensation that Jesse sometimes got when phasing through a solid wall. From Brennan would come an almost orgasmic jolt rippling past every neuromuscular fiber, electrons coursing baldly through his nerves even in the deepest of his sleep.
But Emma avoided going into the minds of people in pain. It hurt too much, to share the visceral agony of a ruptured appendix or the lingering snarl from a scalding burn. Calm, yes, that she would project, inviting the other to join her in avoiding the pain; an escape from reality. But to deliberately go into Hell? No.
Not today. Her teammate lay on the bio-bed in front of her, too weak to even writhe in pain, yet the waves of sensation crashed at her mental blockades. She had to do something about it. Adam would have administered some amazing pharmaceutical miracle to the elemental; Emma hadn't a clue as to what to give. All she could offer was herself.
And that meant going into Brennan's mind and leading him out. Leading him to a place where he could avoid the agony, where he could focus on healing. It meant helping the elemental to survive until someone with real medical expertise—someone, say, like Adam—could arrive at this bedside to perform the physical half of the life-saving. That part couldn't come too soon.
The jolt stabbed first through her fingertips, gateway to the mind. Emma jerked with the shock of it, almost losing her balance before being able to acknowledge and withstand the pain. She shook her head at the others who moved in to help—their touch would only distract her from the task at hand—and moved deeper into Brennan's mind.
The Psychic Overworld was a reality unto itself, with little to no regard for conventional laws of physics. Emma had trained herself to traverse its dangers as well as anyone, and even Adam himself had no idea of what lay on these planes. How could he? He wasn't a psionic. Emma had just once tried to explain it to him, and they had both given up. Adam needed words to describe, and Emma used feelings without form. Understanding wasn't going to happen.
Brennan needed her now to survive. Emma slipped into the farthest recesses of his mind, searching for what she loosely termed the 'soul'. Once, twice, she thought she caught a glimpse of him, only to have the shadowy figure disappear in the billowing black smoke that seemed to be everywhere.
Brennan, she 'called' out, hoping the man might come to her. It happened that way sometimes, here in the Psychic Overmind; you thought of someone, and you were brought together for what was literally a meeting of the minds.
No luck. The man was so lost that he wouldn't, or couldn't—no, wait! What was that? That slight swirl of smoke, that puff of darkness that wrongly wafted left instead of right? Emma 'moved' forward.
And found Brennan. The man was huddled in a corner of his mind, knees drawn up and chin tucked down as far as he could go, trying not to draw attention to himself. Trying to avoid the notice of the pain that eddied around him, choking the psychic air that he breathed.
Brennan?
A wordless moan of agony was all she got back in return. There was no hiding from this sort of assault; every shred of feeling was there for Emma to examine in detail. Brennan tried to force himself into an even smaller ball of misery. Even here, here on the Psychic Planes, the knife wound to his side loomed large and red.
Conjuring bandages from pure thought, Emma rushed forward to try to staunch the flow of blood. The flow had been slowed back in the real world, but here, on the Psychic Planes, the blood symbolized the distress her team mate was suffering.
It wasn't just the blood trickling out, Emma realized. It was the smoke as well. The black viscous stuff was all around, making it difficult to breathe. Emma had to take a mental step back, keep herself clear of Brennan's pain, before she could continue.
Then it came to her: the smoke was an echo of the pain. The agony was too large to be contained in one frail human vessel, and was cascading into the psychic world around her team mate. That would have to be dealt with before anything else.
She knelt again at his side, determined to stick it out for his sake. Brennan?
A wordless moan.
Brennan, it's all right. I'm here. I'll help you.
Hurts.
I know. Let's put it into the box. We've done it before.
Can't. Even the mental groan sounded like a gasp, and Brennan showed Emma the 'box' where he had tried to shove away the pain. It was a convenient mental imagery that usually worked: push all the pain into a small corner of the mind so that something bigger could be dealt with. Emma had helped Brennan do it before.
Brennan's box was a small trunk, scuffed metal bands reinforcing the sides and top with a large padlock on the outside. The material itself appeared to be of dark wood, weathered by the multitude of life experiences the elemental had gone through, with a stray almost runic-looking symbol dotted here and there, carved into the very essence of the wood. Emma didn't recognize the symbols but she had no doubt that Brennan would.
It was obvious that Brennan had already attempted to do exactly as Emma had suggested, but it wasn't working. It was the 'smoke' that needed to be contained, and the 'box' was neither large enough nor air-tight to do the job. For every waft of smoke that had been fanned into it, more leaked out, expanding the area of agony that Brennan had to cope with.
It wasn't going to work. Stronger measures were needed.
Emma considered. 'Tools' were no problem; all she had to do was to dream up what she wanted, and she would have it with the speed and efficiency of thought itself. No, the concern would be that whatever solution she literally dreamed up must be effective for Brennan. She needed to remove this black smoke, this symbolic pain, from around him.
A filter. No, that was passive. Any 'air' on this psychic plane that happened to pass through it would be cleansed of agony, but how to cycle all of the air around them? More would simply leak out of the elemental, and they'd be back to where they started…
No. Not a filter. Something to clean the area: a vacuum cleaner. A nozzle to inhale the smoke, a continually running engine to pull the air through the filter inside the nozzle and spit out clean and refreshing oxygen so that Brennan could cope with his injuries.
As quickly as thought, the vacuum canister arrived in her hands. Emma looked at it: a squat floor model on wheels, looking every bit as modern as the 1940's. She sighed; this was Brennan's nightmare. If he wanted something that looked like it belonged in a museum alongside an Edsel, then who was she to object? As long as it worked. Emma flipped the switch.
The little canister roared into action, the nozzle vibrating in her hands. Smoke was pulled into the machine; Emma glanced over to see that the resulting air being blown out by the exhaust fan was clear and pain-free. She allowed herself to feel a small bit of triumph.
First, clear the air around her team mate. Emma concentrated on that first, making a space so that she could see him. More smoke appeared from behind, but that didn't worry her. This was a long term project.
Slowly, Brennan relaxed, leaning back against what Emma now could see as a representation of Sanctuary itself. The walls were cold and steel-colored but still: this was the only real home that Brennan had known. His growing up years were turbulent, and the years shortly thereafter no better. Sanctuary was truly a safe haven for the troubled boy turned angry man, and when he hurt, Brennan came here. Where someone else might see hard metal and lack of warmth, Brennan found comfort and security.
Sanctuary was home.
And that Emma was able to see it was encouraging. She increased her efforts, moved the power button on the canister up a notch to 'high', knowing that even the power button settings had simply appeared when needed. It was actually Emma's efforts that had been switched into overdrive, but the actualities of the situation were unimportant. The symbolism held, and the smoke/pain was pulled into the vacuum and cleansed.
Emma knelt by his side, aiming the nozzle at the thickest area of smoke. Brennan?
Emma. Even that much exhausted the elemental.
It's going to be all right, she told him. Where is Adam? And Kenny?
Kenny. There was no mistaking the swirl of dark anger that emanated from the elemental at the thought of the computer mutant.
Brennan? What's wrong? What did Kenny do?
Computer. Brennan's head lolled to the side, trying to summon the energy to 'tell' the empath what had happened. Took…computer…
Kenny took Adam into the computer? Emma felt horror; as an empath, she could think of nothing worse. To be reduced to a mere flow of electrons dancing through various circuit boards and processing units? That was natural for a computer mutant but how had Adam, a normal man, been dragged along? For it was clear from Brennan's condition that Adam had not gone willingly. And that concept supplied its own answer as to how Brennan had acquired a knife thrust to his gut. How did Kenny do it?
More smoke oozed out, and Brennan couldn't bite back the cry fast enough.
Emma came to a decision. I'll be right back, she promised him, caressing his face, trying to comfort him. She put the nozzle into his hand, helped him to direct it at the greatest area of darkness. I have to tell the others.
Brennan closed his eyes. Help… Adam… he agreed.
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"But that's impossible," Jesse objected. "Adam's not a computer mutant. It's simply not possible for a normal to go traipsing through…" His voice trailed off as a thought occurred.
Emma knew better than to interrupt the flow of ideas. She laid a restraining hand on Shalimar's arm. The feral was restless, eager to tear a certain computer mutant to shreds if only she could find him.
The concept coalesced in Jesse's head. He came to a decision. "You guys put the CAMS module into the computer, didn't you?"
"Adam did," Shalimar agreed. "It was working great."
"I'll bet it was," Jesse muttered, almost to himself. "Listen, this is going to take a little bit. In the meantime, do not, and I repeat: do not power up Sanctuary. Not until I cut all the lines of communication to the outside world. One slip, and Kenny will take Adam so far away through the Internet that we'll never find him."
"So what do we do?" Shalimar asked.
Jesse wasn't quite certain himself, but the others wouldn't have known it by the confidence that he exuded. "I tear down the CAMS chip. The answer has to be there. That has to be the way that Kenny transformed Adam into electrons. Kenny does it through his mutation; he must have somehow developed a module that can do the same thing electronically." He grimaced. "And what one person can do, another person can back-engineer." Jesse looked grim. "And I damn well will."
Emma nodded. She now had her team on the right track. But would it be in time? "I have to get back to Brennan," she said. "Jesse, I'll do everything I can for him until you get Adam back."
Shalimar nodded. "What can I do?"
"Stay out of my way," Jesse told her. "No, wait. I'll need a go-fer. Start with a screwdriver, so I can open up the mainframe and take a look at that CAMS module."
"And me?" The voice was tiny, and they had all but forgotten the sixteen year old girl that they had dragged along with them. A girl who was only now realizing what it took to play with the big kids.
Shalimar took pity on the child who towered over her. "Come on, Denise. You can help me help Jesse."
Denise gave an unhappy smile. This situation was not what she had expected from Mutant X.
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"All right," Jesse announced. The floor was littered with computer guts, and Jesse sat on the floor in the midst of it all. "I've cut all possible connections to the outside world: wireless, satellite, you name it. We can power up Sanctuary, and Kenny and Adam are not going anywhere but around in circles. Kenny is stuck inside Sanctuary's computers."
"Will he come out?" Shalimar asked. "Out of the computer, I mean."
"Good question," Jesse shrugged. "I really wish we had Brennan up and running." A shadow crossed his face; Emma was with the elemental in the clinic, monitoring his status. It wasn't good; they needed Adam, and fast. Moving Brennan to a hospital, Emma told them, would likely kill the man. He had lost too much blood, and was losing more every minute. And then there was Genomex to consider; Eckhart would swoop down on the hospitalized man before anyone could sneeze. Jesse continued, "if we had Brennan, we could selectively fry parts of the main frame and confine Kenny to smaller and smaller parts of the Sanctuary computers. We could force him out."
"But we don't," Shalimar said bleakly. "What do we do?"
A sigh. "I think I can get the CAMS module to work for us."
"What?"
"I said, I think—"
"I heard what you said, I just don't believe it," Shalimar interrupted. "You want to go inside the computer yourself and battle it out with Kenny?"
"Well, not exactly," Jesse hedged.
"Good. It was a crazy idea."
"I kind'a want us both to go in."
Shalimar stared. "You're out of your mind."
"Yeah, and go into the computer's. It can be done, Shalimar," Jesse insisted, though it would have sounded better if he put more confidence into his voice. "At least, there's a sixty-forty chance I can do it. I think."
"Who's got the sixty, and who's got the forty?"
"That doesn't matter." Jesse brushed the comment away, which Shalimar took to mean that Mutant X was currently holding the short end of the stick. "What does matter is that there's a shot. We need to get Adam out of the computer—I'll be perfectly content to let Kenny spin his wheels inside for a while—and into the clinic with Brennan. How 'bout it? You game?"
"You got a better plan?"
"No."
"Then I'm in." Shalimar was not a happy feral. Best place for her was some place outdoors where there was plenty of room to swing a fist or two and leap from one surface to another, laws of gravity unimportant. Going inside a computer—sterile metal, no hunting scents to follow!—seemed like the worst possible place to be. "But that's assuming you can get this ridiculous scheme to work. After all, the odds are against you."
"Yeah." Jesse winced. "But it's better than doing nothing."
By the look on her face, Jesse hadn't convinced Shalimar. He continued his preparations anyway.