XY-n 7 : The Wind Begins to Turn

Under a Raging Moon, 1985

Abrams shook the Hunter’s hand as they paused at the door of Facility #32. A cold, late spring rain was falling steadily over the well-manicured lawn, a field of green grass that none of the little inmates had ever played upon. Abrams sighed, knowing that the Hunter was probably reading him like a book. He did not, however, care. All he cared about was the Hunter’s tale of where Xyn might be, the threat of a coming Race War, and how that tale could very easily be the truth. Maybe we should let them play outside now and then, he thought. What was awaiting them on that lawn was the Hunter’s new craft. Its silvery hull glistened in the rain and shone their reflections back at them despite the relentless cloud cover.

The Hunter whistled, and Abrams thought he could almost feel the delight coming off of him. That, of course, made him think of Xyn again. “Find him,” he said, as he and the Hunter stepped out into the steady rain to inspect the craft, “Find him and bring him back to me.” Abrams was suddenly glad of the rain, which had started the night before; it hid his tears from someone that he didn’t particularly care for, but someone that he needed nonetheless. As if to change the subject, he added, “It’s got multi-cell fuel packs, solar collection capability, and full Network interface with satellite uplink. It can have you over the Ruins in just under 6 hours. Pulls some pretty awesome ‘G’s’ too, even if it does look sort of retro. Of course, if they don’t get the Com-Tell satellite up and running again, the latter won’t do you much good and you’ll have to rely on the library banks in the craft’s memory. The onboard computer is also voice actuated, like your old one. Kind of looks like a miniature Old World fighter jet, no?”

The Hunter turned. “Yes, it does. I like it. I keep forgetting, your old place was built a lot farther out than this one. You’re actually here in civilization! Never did figure out why anyone would want to put a Facility for these little Bios way out there. Security issue? Remoteness? Oh, and by the way, we’re being watched,” he added.

Abrams looked confused, then the Hunter gestured up at the building. The second story window overlooking the lawn was lined with small faces, noses pressed up against the glass. A few of them waved.

Abrams sighed again and nodded. “We wanted somewhere out of the way, is all. Figured it was safer. In the end, it was that remoteness that did us in. No one could get there in time to really help us. I still can’t figure out how the damn fire could have started and spread so fast, though. It’s almost unnatural. I should have known that Xyn would wander if he got out. He was always so fascinated by the nature studies.” Again, Abrams looked up. He waved back. “The rest of the controls of the craft are all the same as your old one. Don’t wreck it, please, they’re in short supply. If Xyn weren’t considered so dangerous now, along with the rest of whomever is out there, you wouldn’t even know this craft existed. It’s frightfully expensive, you know.” And with that, Abrams turned to go back to his office and wait. No one else on the Network had been able to help him, and now this Hunter - no, THE Hunter - was all he had left.

“Abrams!” The Hunter called back as the door was almost closed.

“Yes?” Mr. Rick, as Xyn had always called him, replied.

The Hunter paused for a moment, considering. Then he thought of little Edward IV. “I WILL do my best to find him, even though I’m not sure why. I don’t fully trust you, and what this place does makes me sick to my stomach. I’ve avoided using my Psi to find out your reasons for wanting this one back, simply because I think I’d sleep better at night if I DON’T know why. However, it’s not MY place to judge whether you love him for himself or for what he can do for YOU. What your industry did to ME is unforgivable, but it’s been a great career so far. I have everything that money can buy - almost. It’s really a good life, in most areas. And don’t worry about your damn craft, either. I’ve never crashed yet. Oh, and if there’s no pressing parts extractions to take place, you might want to let the inmates up there watch the take-off.”

Abrams let the door slide shut without replying. He was angry at the last remarks, and he was sure that the Hunter could feel it. He was toying. That had to be it. Abrams carefully ordered his thoughts then, immersing his mind in memories of Xyn and the old Facility. He felt almost abstracted, taken aback somehow, at how clear the memories seemed. It was almost as if Xyn himself were there to clarify them, and he almost expected to feel that small, warm hand slip into his own at any time. A wave of melancholia swept over him as he watched the rain fall onto the clear glass of the bay window by the door. He watched the Hunter board his new craft, almost like a little one with a new toy. The Hunter was just closing the hatch when Abrams fell to his knees. His Mind was suddenly filled with a terrible scream - a scream of indescribable loss and terror.

“Jayk!?” the agonized wail tore through him, “Where’s Jayk?!”

On the lawn outside, the craft’s hatch suddenly flew back open as the Hunter stood bolt upright in the pilot’s seat. He was looking this way and that, his head snapping back and forth and his hands instinctively going for his weapons. His Psi reached out, and his defenses raised. He remembered his mistake near the bridge on the far edge of the Ruins, and he was not about to repeat it. He stealthily hid his own Mind while he listened with his ears and his Psi as well. But then the words ceased, and only a confused welter of emotions came to him. Panic was the foremost, followed by a wrenching feeling of loss and despair. Brief flashes of young faces crossed his Mind : a young woman with dark and flowing hair, a small and emaciated little XY, a small XY with freckles, orange hair and blind white eyes. Then finally another XY or XX, he couldn’t tell, with darker skin and long braided black hair that pulled back from pointed ears.

Then came the anger.

He sucked it in as a man starved for fresh air would gasp. A wry grin crossed his face, and his Psi locked onto that anger. He turned his head towards the Ruins, staring off into the general direction with his eyes closed. If the steady rain bothered him, he didn’t show it.

He smiled fully then, turning to wave at Abrams who was staring out a window across the rain soaked lawn with a look of recognition on his face. He mouthed one word, and the Hunter nodded.

“Xyn,” the Hunter breathed, “And all your friends, too!”

Putting her own personal guilt and pain aside, Shar tried to quiet Xyn’s outburst. If the little Psion were not stopped, then every other Psion on that side of the continent would soon be able to pinpoint their location, not to mention the Hunter whose Mind she had touched briefly some days ago. However, it was no use. After his initial scream, Xyn had turned his energies inward and let loose his Mind in a way that had nearly bowled Shar over. It had, in fact, knocked some of the weaker Psions in close proximity unconscious. As she struggled with Xyn, Shar saw that Chriss had slumped over the steering controls of the rover. She also realized that her group of Psions that were coordinating the large group of Outcasts would be useless until she could calm Xyn down, and without them, there could be no organization in a convoy so long.

Tym, the strange little one that Xyn had befriended before his catatonic episode, was also unconscious. Blood ran slowly from one side of his nose, and he had lost most of what coloring he had had to begin with. Xyn was holding him close, however, unaware of - or unconcerned - with the fact that Tym has sneezed blood all over his Suit. Shar was able to tell that Xyn had gathered something useful from Tym’s Mind before he had passed out, and she was almost afraid to know what it was. She did, however, have a good idea. Given the temerity of Xyn’s outburst, she was - for the first time in years - unsure if she would be able to contain the situation.

Steeling herself and reaching over Tym, Shar grasped Xyn by the shoulders and shook him violently, her Psi coming to full power in an instant. With her mouth as well as her Mind, mentally and verbally, she tried to get through to him.

She failed.

“Xyn, listen to me!” She implored.

Xyn’s eyes darted this way and that, and the lashing of his Psi was almost like a whip upon her skin. Tears streamed down his face, only to be swallowed up by the rain. He was shaking. “Jayk?” he said aloud in a frighteningly quiet tone, “He’s not here!? Where is he? I have to find him!”

“Xyn, listen to me! We had to leave him behind,” Shar explained, tightening her grip on him. He didn’t seem to hear her, though, and he continued to sweep the area with his Psi and mumble. His words were incoherent. Again and again she tried, but Xyn would not respond. He hopped down off of the rover and began to walk around it in a circle. He looked under it. He walked around it again. All the while, he still hadn’t put Tym down. It was almost comical, Shar thought, were he only not so agitated.

He was still casting his Psi out, harder than ever, and Shar shivered at the amount of strength that the little XY was exerting. He was pushing himself even harder than when he had reached out to the gang on the bridge, and he showed no signs of letting up. His eyes were growing wide and wild looking, and his mouth was open with his lips pulled back in what resembled a snarl. Foam was forming up in the corners of his mouth, and try as she might, Shar could not get through to him. Over and over she tried, finally throwing caution to the wind in favor of the group being found. She drew in a deep breath, and her eyes met Xyn’s.

There was no understanding in them as he stepped back from her, placing Tym ever so gently on the back seat of the rover. He began looking here and there again, his movements making almost no sense.

Then Shar brought the full force of her Mind down upon him, her tears of regret and despair hidden by the rain. She remembered doing it to Jayk in an attempt to stop his attack upon Kel.

Xyn gasped, sinking to his knees at the back of the rover and trembling with his efforts. Shar felt his Mind beginning to power down, then up again, and she felt the depth of his confusion and rage. In amazement, she realized that the tactic that had worked on so many others in times past had only hit Xyn’s Mind and bounced off. Ye Gods, she thought to herself.

The little Psion was shaking his head and mumbling, the rain water running down and dripping off of the tip of his nose, when she finally decided to employ the oldest cure for hysteria known to man - she reached out and slapped him across the mouth.

Hard.

As her hand contacted his skin, she knew what he knew.

He knew it all.

A small hand slowly came up to touch his stinging lips, and the Suit extended a glove over it.

You hit me, the stunned thought came to her, and she realized that, very probably, no one had ever struck Xyn before in his short life. It was something new to him. He wandered back to the rover, hand still to his mouth, and climbed back up to take Tym in his arms again. He began to rock.

I’m sorry, she replied, More sorry than you can know. I didn’t want to hurt you.

But Xyn was still shaking his head, his light brown hair grown back out to a quarter of an inch of soft and soaking wet stubble. In his arms, he held the insensate form of Tym close to him and moaned. You left him! came the accusation, followed by a fresh wave of tears. You said no one can cry here, before, when I came with Jayk! You said! I cried ‘cause I thought you hated me then and you told me I couldn’t cry!

Shar nodded a silent reply.

So he knew.

But she had made her decision, and while her later outburst of regret might have undermined her authority with the Leaders of the other gangs, she would not cast the rest of that respect into the winds by going back on her decision. There was too much at stake, too much to lose. The cargo was far too important, their location too important as well. They had done so much work - hacking the ship’s computers, sabotaging the Com-Tell satellite, coordinating the others to come. And there was still so much more to do.

She held her ground, and only nodded.

That big man was going to leave ME! Xyn cried in the silences of their Minds, he said to leave me behind and Jayk wouldn’t have it. He didn’t want Tym either. Jayk couldn’t help it, he didn’t know! He didn’t know what to do! He was scared! Then when he saw what he did ... he ... he c-couldn’t stand it. He was so scared of what he became! He wanted YOU to make it all better and you left him there!”

Again, Shar nodded. He was a Beast. He committed murder.

He was protecting us! Xyn countered, clutching Tym tighter.

You cannot even begin to understand the import of the loss of Kel, she lashed back at him, her own anguish over the loss of her past love coming to the surface again. Her heart ached, and she was frightened. Carefully she concealed the plans that she and Kel had made, what Kel had already seen to, and how easily things could fall apart with his loss. She prayed fervently to every Deity that she knew of that Xyn wouldn’t pick up on it. Obviously he didn’t as he went on.

He was mean, Xyn objected, Don’t think I don’t know. Tym showed it all to me.

He was not always so.

I don’t care! Xyn stated, getting some control over himself, When I came here, you took me in. Jayk told me what it was like, how people like me and him and you were looked down on, feared, hunted because we’re different. He made me understand what I was. He told me about being a slave and how you rescued him and how you had this plan to bring all the Outcasts together to make a better life. Were you lying then? Are you lying now? What about Tym? He demanded, looking down at the pathetic little one in his arms and hugging him tighter, Will you leave him behind next if the rover gets low on fuel? He burned himself out helping me come back from where we were, where you don’t even know we were! You don’t KNOW what was wrong with me, you only know Jayk thought enough of me to do what he did! Tym saw it all, and he can project it to others. He did me, he showed me. Jayk expected to wake up with me and you and have you make it all better! But what did he get? He woke up in a bloody gutter, cold in the rain, probably too weak to even crawl to shelter and all alone! And YOU let it happen! He trusted you, he worshiped you!”

The image from Jayk’s mind, the image of a Queen, came to Xyn then and he threw it at Shar.

Shar winced, the enormity of it all coming to her in waves as Xyn shared with her what Tym had given him. She understood Tym then, and began to grasp the edges of Xyn’s apparent illness and Tym’s strange power. Were the circumstances different, she would have found it enticing.

The convoy had stopped then, many of the Outcasts having gathered nearby to witness the silent exchange. The Psions who were still standing were all pale and shaken, and many of the others were hiding behind them. They all sensed that whatever was passing between Xyn and Shar wasn’t good, and they were unsure of what to do. Finally, someone came forward and took Tym from Xyn’s arms. Another pulled Chriss off of the rover and carried them to the cracked and broken sidewalk under a tattered awning to care for them. Xyn watched them, offering no resistance. He could feel that they only wanted to help. Then he looked back at Shar, his Psi beginning to power up again and turn backwards along their route, desperately searching, hoping. The amount of adrenaline-fired Will was amazing, and Shar’s Psi pulled away from it.

No, she said.

I have to find him! Xyn almost begged, and Shar could feel fear as well - fear that he would have to fight her in order to find Jayk. She didn’t want that. Carefully, she reordered her thoughts.

You will do yourself harm, Xyn Psion, as well as alert any other who is like us as to where we are. Remember the Hunter? He will sense you. Yes, I made the decision to leave Jayk behind. I regret it, more than you can know! I loved Jayk in ways you cannot know, but the man he killed, Kel, was also very dear to me. I knew him for uncounted Cycles, and I loved him. I was intimate with him. Had things gone differently, he might have been my Husband. Our plans here may be damaged now, perhaps beyond repair, but I cannot and will not give up what we have here. What I did, I did for the good of the group. And it pains me.

But Xyn was shaking his head and rocking again, and Shar finally saw what the others had seen on Xyn’s face all along. No longer was he the innocent little one from a Bio Facility, lost and alone. No longer was he frightened and unaware of what he could do. In a flash, Shar saw the images in his Mind of he and Jayk in that strange place. She saw the waters and the wild, the cobalt blue of the perfect sky, and the deep green of the soft grass. She knew where it was, and she knew what Xyn and Jayk had felt for one another. She saw their naked bodies, or rather, their bodies-of-the-Mind, entwined in the grass in the grips of passion as the rains washed the blood from their skin. There was love there, as she looked deep into what Xyn wanted her to see, love that was almost a tangible thing. There was sex, confusion, pleasure - but more than anything, there was healing for both of them.

She had not understood.

Her own personal anguish was multiplied as she realized how Tym had been the one to send Xyn there, accidentally, and how Xyn had called Jayk there to help him. Of course, it had to be Jayk; whom else would Xyn call out to? She realized at once Tym’s potential, how it had all been an accident, and how devoted Tym had been to bringing Xyn back. The frail little one’s cryptic replies and his staunch resistance of her were now so clear. The enormity of her mistake weighed even more heavily upon her as her Mind instantly equated her own feelings for Kel to those of Xyn for Jayk. In her quest for the overall good of the larger group, she had forgotten her original goal - the day to day well-being of her own small group of little ones.

And she realized that Kel, in so many areas, had been wrong.

In her Mind, she wept bitterly.

But her face showed nothing.

Xyn Psion, I am so sorry, she offered, but it is days hence, and the rains are cold. The winds have turned, and the savage Season comes upon us soon. The rains are only the start. The green spring is a fickle time, and we must be underground here to be safe. Even with a rover, it will take you days to make it back to him. This I know you wish to do, but it would be a waste. He will be dead before you arrive.

The words struck Xyn harder than the slap to his mouth had, and his shoulders slumped. His Suit hissed and beeped at him again, and he pulled up his hood, folding his gloved hands in his lap. Shar recalled seeing, before, that his nails were turning blue. And so was the Suit. Much had been taken out of Xyn during those interminable days of catatonia, and probably Jayk as well, she assumed. Her glimpse of that wild place had astounded her. Then she remembered the blue glow when Xyn had put his wondrous Suit on Dan to heal him. It had glowed blue then, and Xyn had said that it was having a rough time with the wearer. She realized that the Suit was working hard on Xyn now. Yet somewhere, days back, Jayk lay exposed in the cold rain.

He had no Suit to protect him.

Xyn was exhausted, and his head felt as if it were about to split open. He had rested his head on his knees and continued to rock back and forth. His whole body cried out for food and rest and warmth, and try as he did, he couldn’t shake it off. Shar moved towards him, and sensing her approach, Xyn drew his hooded head up sharply. The rocking and moaning ceased.

“Stay away from me,” he warned in a low and squeaking voice, “Don’t ever come near me again.”

Shar stopped. There were gasps from the others, and Xyn looked up to see that Chriss had recovered himself and was leaning up against a wall holding Tym in his lap. Small curls of steam rose off of both of them, and for an instant, Xyn longed for that warm embrace. Please take care of him, Xyn sent to Chriss, Don’t let anyone hurt him. He’s been hurt so much already! The Pyro nodded, his strange pale eyes flashing.

“What is this?” Shar demanded, suddenly feeling overly tired and not understanding why. Xyn gestured vaguely, and she turned and looked around. She was met by gaunt faces and travel stained clothing, each worn by someone who had trusted her and believed in something better. They might have been Mutants and Outcasts, but the journey was wearing on them. In her battle with Xyn, and in her own obsession with returning to safety with the stolen supplies, she had not noticed it before. The weariness of the entire convoy came over her as she reached out to them all, this time not in an effort to coordinate tactics. Her Psi passed over those both familiar and strange, and all of them seemed to be saying rest, we need shelter and rest - it’s cold - I’m tired ...

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Xyn said sarcastically, “Who were you planning on leaving behind next?”

“Inform the group to seek shelter in the buildings. We will resume at dawn,” Shar said with her voice and her Mind as well.

“Have a good trip,” Xyn replied in a shaky voice, turning his back on her.

“Xyn Psion,” she demanded, as he hopped down from the rover, “What are you about?”

“It outta be obvious,” he snapped without facing her. And although his knees buckled and he was shaking badly, he flatly stated, “I’m leaving. I’m going back for Jayk.”

“Jayk is as good as dead,” Shar retorted, “We took care of you while you were indisposed, gone to that strange place of the Mind. But no one was there to take care of Jayk, and the cold rains have not let up since he ...” but she could not finish the sentence. She didn’t even bother to try and use her Psi nor explain the coming Storms. The thought of Jayk lying in the gutter as the rain fell steadily on his body was almost too terrible to bear. How long could someone, even one as hardy as Jayk, survive before dying of exposure? If Xyn was in such bad shape, mustn’t Jayk also be? She also realized that Xyn was ‘eavesdropping,’ and she was amazed that he had slipped into her Mind to see the vision.

“It’s not that far!” Xyn objected verbally, “We crossed the Flats from the Forest and got back home in one day!”

“And it took all day!” Shar retorted, “And you took Jayk’s shortcut! You went the other way, Xyn, not THIS way! You also went underground and out a sewer pipe, not overland. Where you were was the short stretch of the Flats, and it took Jayk months of searching and sunburnt skin to find it. True, the Forest extends there towards our Ruins, but this is the far side - the most barren area. That’s why we brought the ship down here, because it is so inaccessible for outsiders. It’s hard enough to get to once one is IN the Ruins! You’ve been unconscious for days on end while we traveled back with the cargo! You have no idea of the time and work involved!”

“But ... but ... I could ...” Xyn grappled with the idea, his voice breaking off into thought. For all he knew, she might be right. After all, he was a stranger to the Ruins. He tried to remember how long it had taken to get to the ship in the first place, and it seemed so long ago that he couldn’t remember it exactly. He sniffled.

“It is too late, Xyn Psion ...” she began, “You can’t reach him now.”

“And whose fault is that?!” He demanded, his voice breaking and his eyes filling with fresh tears.

From behind her, Shar felt sorrow and loss. She also felt suspicion and fear, and she knew that her authority was in question more than ever before. Soon she would have to meet with the various Leaders of the smaller factions that she had called to join her and explain it all. But how could she explain it to them when she could not explain it to herself? She had seen the chance and taken it, but had she gambled too much? Cut her time too short? If only Kel were still there!

Xyn’s mind was made up, however, and from what Shar had seen, a fight would only impair them both. There was no way she was going to be able to convince him otherwise. He simply didn’t grasp the notion of direction and distance. The group could do without one or the other, but it did need a strong Psion in case the Hunter came. Once again, Shar relived her decision to leave Jayk behind as she watched Xyn turn to go.

He left them as he had met them - with nothing but his Suit. He didn’t even have a pack to carry supplies in. As the entire convoy sought shelter for the night, unpacking blankets, food packs, and such, Xyn disappeared in to the gathering darkness without so much as one look back. If anyone noticed the faint blue glow of his soiled Suit, they didn’t know what it meant. He felt a few of them saddened as he passed them, but most were simply afraid or too exhausted to care. He made it almost two whole blocks along the way they had come from before he collapsed, shaking uncontrollably, in the recessed doorway of some long-forgotten shop.

“Jayk...” he moaned weakly as his Suit struggled to stabilize his fluctuating vitals, “I’m coming, Jayk!”

Back at the rover, Shar turned to Chriss and Dan. “You want us to go get him now?” Dan asked, having come back from several blocks up at Shar’s urgent summons. She nodded, noticing that Dan was panting. He must have run all the way. She smiled at that.

“He won’t speak to me, but perhaps you two can persuade him when he fully recovers,” she replied in voice filled with pain.

“The head of the convoy is almost home,” Dan mentioned, “I thought you should know. We’re less than a day out here at the very tail-end.”

Shar smiled a weak smile. “It will be good to be home. We WILL beat the Storm after all. Find him, my son. Bring him back to us before he does himself harm.”

“Follow me with your Psi,” he told Chriss, taking off at a dead run, “He can’t have got far,” he called back.

“‘my son?’” Chriss asked in confusion, “You talk fancy a lot, but you’ve never called anyone that, even when you don’t know a guy’s name.”

Shar seemed abstracted, lost almost, and Chriss knew that her Psi was running only hard enough to keep in touch with the rest of the convoy. He could feel their relief as well, and was looking forward to his own bedroll.

He knew that it really wasn’t his place to pry, but his sudden elevation to Leader of his gang had given him some courage. That and he thought that he had felt something else. He watched as she nodded gravely, then suddenly buried her drawn and worried face in her hands. She sobbed once, then regained her composure.

“That is because Dan IS my son,” she announced, “and Jayk, whom I loved as family until he changed, killed Dan’s father.”

Her words struck Chriss almost physically. He had no idea what to say, but then, people had sex - they had little ones - it was natural, he guessed. He just hadn’t considered Kel that type of Adult, and he couldn’t see it. The fact that Kel had managed to develop a relationship with someone like Shar amazed him, but he decided to drop it. He didn’t like to think about things like that.

Shar noticed his puzzlement. “It was a long time ago, Chriss,” she explained, “And I know things like this make you uncomfortable. The Kel that YOU knew was not the Kel that I knew, though. He was wise, thoughtful, caring. You knew ‘Kel the Outcast gang Leader.’ I knew ‘Kel the enlightened and gifted University student.’”

Chriss nodded and picked up a small pack and turned to follow him, but Dan was already gone, vanished into the darkness. “Wow, that kid can RUN now!” he observed, his own limited Psi locking onto Dan and following him.

Shar smiled. “Had Xyn not arrived when he did, he would not even be here, much less running after his fleeing savior,” she stated, “And there would be another vacant space in my heart. Only a few weeks ago, Dan was almost too ill to even stand.”

“He’s powerful, Xyn I mean,” Chriss offered, not wanting the former topic to continue.

Again, Shar nodded. “I owed him a debt, the very first day I met him,” she mused, allowing herself a few tears, “And how did I repay him? I allowed my own grief to cause the death of his best friend. He restored my son to me - unasked and out of pure love - and I repay him by taking his only remaining love from him.”

Chriss flushed, having known that Xyn and Jayk were lovers. He continued to follow Dan’s movements with his Psi, thankful that he had it still and how he had discovered how to maintain it. It was nothing compared to his Pyro capabilities, but at least it hadn’t faded away as he had seen it do in many others.

Other XY’s.

Then he thought of something else. “What was wrong with Dan?” he asked.

“He was very sick,” Shar explained, “with a Remnant. It had settled in his lungs.”

Chriss looked puzzled. “But, you’re a Mutant, and Dan’s your son?”

Shar nodded. “But his father was NOT a Mutant, and only his enhanced Nanobots kept him alive here in the Ruins. As I said, he was a genius in nanotechnology and cybernetics. Dan inherited the Nanobots in the Approved fashion, after all, we were both Approved before going Runaway. Dan has a Processor and Nanobots to sustain him, but something is wrong with his system. His Nanobots aren’t keeping him healthy and doing the proper repairs. That’s why he got sick, and his Approved body began to degrade. Perhaps it was because he was born here in the Ruins, I don’t know. If only Kel were there, he could have repaired him, I’m sure, but alas ... ah Kel ...” her words broke off, and she began to muse.

Chriss immediately switched off his limited Psi. He looked back at Shar, and realized that she had noticed. He flushed again.

“I’m sorry. Kel told me all about it, Chriss. I know of how you submitted to castration to preserve your gifts and prove the theory, and that is commendable. I also know how you feel about the subject of intimacy, so we’ll drop it for now. Go after them.”

“But what if Xyn was even more powerful?” Chriss asked, knowing that his own mental clumsiness would probably betray his idea anyway.

Shar thought for a moment, recalling the force that she had had to use to reach Xyn in the climax of his fury. “Then he would be almost invincible,” she replied, “For I almost could not reach him as he is now.” She paused. “Ah,” she then realized with a small start, “I now know what you are thinking, yes! But keep in mind, Chriss, just because castration was right for YOU does NOT mean that it is right for every Mutant. It is not in the heart of everyone to make such a sacrifice. So few have a love so great.”

Chriss nodded. “We need to talk about THAT then,” he said, setting off to follow Dan.

The Hunter made a side trip when he realized just how much of a craft he now had. Not only could it get him to the Ruins and back without running out of fuel, but as the old saying went, “Getting there was half the fun.” He flew the craft up high until the lights of the Facility looked like so many fireflies on a summer’s night. He could see them, and could also see the tiny pinpoints of light that indicated the New City. He had plans for this hunt, and he was going to need some help if he were successful. He began his descent at a speed that was less than prudent.

He was grinning like a little one on Unification Day when he parked his craft in front of a seedy-looking tavern in the heart of the New City and went inside. Loud music blared from hidden speakers, and the Hunter thought of small animals being tortured. Of course, he stopped to watch the show taking place on stage and awaited a break in the music to order a drink at the bar. As he slipped the waiter a gold token worth more than a case of the beverage, he whispered, “Tell Acer I’m here.” The waiter smiled and asked how he should be called. “Tell him the dude in the white Suit is here to deal,” the Hunter replied with an evil grin. The waiter fled.

On the stage to his left, several women were throwing various items of clothing into the riotous crowd. They were shapely and beautiful, and the Hunter wasn’t sure which upset him more - the lewd women on the stage, or the even more lewd young men on the floor cheering them on. A familiar sensation began to overtake him, and he knocked the drink back in one gulp. He tried to grip a on his nerves; he simply didn’t have time to bust up his hands again and let the Suit repair them. The music and the cheers were near deafening, and his head was beginning to ache a bit. He wondered if it was from the noise, the frustration, or his wild ride there. Fortunately, the waiter returned promptly just as a very dark skinned lady with unbelievable breasts threw her bra into the cheering crowd. An Unapproved with a soon-to-expire work permit caught it and pressed his face into the large, warm cups. The Hunter sneered.

“I’ll be back for you,” he mumbled to himself.

“Acer says to come up at once!” the waiter replied, glancing at the stage with a smirk. “My, and it’s so early in the day too!”

The Hunter made his way up a well hidden staircase in the back of the bar and arrived at Acer’s door. He didn’t bother to knock - he simply went in. He was expected. When he entered the room, bare of furniture but for a desk with a Network terminal, he was greeted in a loud voice from a very fat man. “Ah, so good to see you, Hunter!” Acer called out, rising ponderously up from his desk and severing his link to the Net. “What goods have you brought me this afternoon, and so early too?”

The Hunter glanced around the familiar room. Only a few nights before he had brought the little Nightstalker here to the Dealer. He was familiar with the place, and Acer was his favorite Dealer. He glanced at the one door and the plain walls with no windows. He knew where that door led. He also knew that the room was totally secure. “You busy in there?” he asked.

Acer shook his head ‘no.’

“Let’s talk,” the Hunter stated, jerking a thumb at the door.

Once they were inside, the fat man smiled. “Why so secretive, my friend?” he purred.

The Hunter’s Psi told him that Acer was almost in a frenzy. Sneaking around appealed to the fat man, and the Hunter wanted him keyed to a fever pitch. That way, he knew he could trust him. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small data chip. Acer recognized it as a limited funds transfer module. He smacked his lips, almost drooling in anticipation. The Hunter waved it, and the fat man snatched it up and pocketed it. “Aren’t you going to verify it?” the Hunter teased.

“Oh, dear, no,” Acer replied, “I know YOU, my friend. Tell me what you need, and I’m sure the chip will pay for it!”

“That’s why I like you,” the Hunter said, and his Psi told him he had nothing to worry about. Not yet, at least. “Alright, here’s the deal. I’m off on a hunt. A very special hunt for a peculiar little one. He’s a Bio, Runaway, and he might be a Mutant too but that’s classified. When I find him, I’m bringing him here...”

“The usual?” Acer interrupted, his eyes darting to a small panel on the wall. The Hunter could feel his anticipation and sexual arousal. He shook his head.

“No, not in the least. Very UNusual, in fact. When I bring him here, you are to keep him out of sight at all costs. No gelding, no reselling - because I’ll be back in a few days for him. I need you to hide him for me. Oh, and one other thing. You’ll have to use the neural inhibitor on him at ALL times.”

Acer gasped, a fat hand going to his throat in mock consternation. “DO you know how much those COST?” he groaned.

“Don’t fuck with me Acer, I know you have one. Just remember, no gelding! If the little XY has so much as a pimple when I get back, I’ll liposuction your ass down to nothing with a garden hose!”

Acer snorted. “You’re no fun at all, you know,” he sighed in a wilting voice, “I haven’t had a single deal since you brought me that nasty little Nightstalker Mutant a few nights ago.” Then his eyes brightened. “You wouldn’t believe how he begged and pleaded when I got the tools out! He offered to do things that scared even ME!” The Hunter could feel the sheer delight in the Dealer, and he also could guess how many of those favors Acer had made the little one perform before he’d gelded him anyway. It was just how the Dealer was - make them think they were going to get out of it then cut them up anyway.

“The usual?” the Hunter asked.

The Dealer nodded. “Complete genital nullification, cryo storage of the balls. Sold those online the next day. A couple of hours later, I had the little eunuch all freshly healed and in the arms of his new Master. It was love at first sight! You wouldn’t believe what those glowing eyes can fetch when they see them glow! And the agility! My goodness, I think the little bugger could suck a fellow off and scratch the back of his head with his toes at the same time! They just love those Nightstalkers, almost tireless!. You want to see the video?”

The Hunter smiled. “No. You know, one of these days, someone is going to figure out that they got their replacement balls for their defective little Approved XY from a Mutant, and when the grand-little one is a Mutant too, they are going to be PISSED!”

The Dealer laughed until he was wheezing, leaning back and deploying the control panel. A vicious looking exam table just the right size to hold a little one slid from a hidden slot in the wall and he sat down heavily. The table creaked. “That’s the beauty of dealing underground! We replace the future stock!” he declared, laughing again.

But the Hunter had heard enough.

“Can you do it for me, then?”

The Dealer’s laughter died at once. “You have my word, Hunter. Your little Runaway Bio XY will be as safe with me as if he were my own son.”

“You’d sell your own son if you had one.”

“Oh!” Acer sighed, putting a hand over his heart, “You think so badly of me!”

The Hunter snorted, but his Psi told him that the Dealer was not lying. He could be trusted.

“I’ll be back within the week,” he warned, “Just remember what I said. If he IS a Mutant, that neural inhibitor will be your only chance of survival.” And with that, he stalked out of the room and back to his craft. The Dealer watched him go, fingering the funds transfer chip and sweating.

When the Hunter arrived at his craft, he jumped in and ordered the computer to set a course for the Ruins. Whatever data Abrams had had the thing loaded with, it didn’t argue. He told it where to go, based on the location that he had visualized from his Psi when he had heard Xyn’s voice in his Mind. The craft rose into the darkening sky, still gray from the seemingly endless rain, and set off at maximum velocity for its destination. The Hunter leaned back and clapped down his visor. He called up various displays as the computer flew the craft. He even allowed himself the luxury of a short nap after reviewing everything that he could find on Xyn, or ‘N-Runaway-32' as the computer referred to him. After awakening, he yawned and stretched and called for a proximity check. He didn’t really need it.

As he glanced out the window, which cleared itself of the rain streaks at his command, he saw the Statue. Long ago, they told him, the Flats had been a harbor that had expanded into a deep blue ocean. In the midst of the harbor, someone had put up a huge statue of a woman with a book and a torch. The Hunter slowed and circled the statue, actually in awe of such a creation. True, time and the elements had not been kind to the lady. Many of the points of her crown were gone, and the torch that she still held aloft even after the BioGenic Wars no longer glowed. The Hunter circled her again, his face awed.

Remembering the poem from his school days as best he could, he looked into the unchanging and somehow sad eyes of the lady statue and said, “I will take your poor, your tired, your weak and huddled masses, dear Lady, since it seems that they still come to you, even now.” He then continued on at a slower rate towards the Ruins, dropping into stealth mode as he approached the shore - or rather, where the shore once was. Looking down, it resembled a steep cliff that was overrun in brambles and brush. The buildings stood in and behind the wild growth, and he climbed higher, activating his scanners for any Bio-signs. He almost missed it, thinking something was wrong. He just couldn’t place it, however.

“Transponder data, weak signal encountered, debris, chemical residue,” the computer piped up.

“What?” the Hunter demanded, still wondering what it was that looked so wrong.

“Signal and residues correspond to that of ...”

But the Hunter interrupted the helpful computer as it finally hit him. “The missing transport ship!” he breathed.

“Affirmative,” the computer replied, “Auto-destructed. Correction. Transponder indicates coded message, standby ...”

He stared. The skyline of the edge of the Ruins was all wrong. There were some buildings missing, he knew. He’d been there and scanned the area not that long ago. That, and the Brush line seemed to have suffered a fire. “So that much is true,” he sighed, thinking of the supplies that someone had to have run off with. It was another piece of evidence that fit his theory, and he thought of little Edward IV again.

Finally the computer spoke. “Unable to recover data. Transponder components badly damaged. Data missing. Code unknown.”

“Access Com-Tell for detail scans,” he ordered, wondering.

The computer chirped and tried again. “Com-Tell not responding.”

The Hunter snorted and continued his work. Another piece of his theory confirmed.

It took him almost four hours to get any readings as he scanned the buildings and below ground as best he could. Then he cursed himself, remembering that this craft was far superior to his old one and that he needn’t scan the same areas twice to be sure. When the red light blinked and the computer chimed in, “Bio-signs detected, humanoid, Mutant, port side, aft,” he jumped a bit. Night was falling, and the Ruins were taking on an even more haunted look. He was thankful that here was no moon to illuminate the windows in the amazingly tall buildings. “Change course to intercept,” he ordered, and the craft did that.

He stared at the controls, wondering why the readout didn’t change. Normally a Bio-sign didn’t hold still; it was always moving, running, hiding. This one, however, didn’t. “Second Bio-mass detected,” the computer reported in its genderless voice, “Humanoid, Approved, XY, deceased. Time of death, four to six days. Amend : Runaway Approved. Close proximity to Bio-sign one.”

The Hunter gasped. One dead, one alive? He verified. As he moved in closer, his craft making almost no noise and running with no lights, he focused the sensors to a tight pattern. The snow on the readout screen in front of him slowly cleared as he drew closer. He looked into the image of broken windows and cracked walls. The streets were deserted, with only fragments of debris here and there. The street scene he viewed looked basically like the New City streets, only dead. Here, there were no lights, no running vehicles, no happy people running the sidewalks day and night. Here there was only death, desertion, emptiness, loneliness ... and surprisingly - longing. But here was where Xyn was, and RIGHT here was where a Mutant was, ripe for the picking.

He was no fool, however. He slowly brought his Psi up to power, cursing how long it was taking him these days, and defended himself. He would not be caught unawares if SHE were out there, if SHE knew he was coming and was setting a trap. When he felt ready, he drew closer. The image on the screen zoomed up as the sensors compensated, and the Hunter swept the area with his Psi as well, softly, so as not to attract attention. He felt life, but that was all. The sensors were correct - one dead, one alive - but just barely. The second life-sign wasn’t moving because it was injured and near death. Very near.

He was ready as he set the craft down in a littered alley and disembarked, one hand on his weapon, the other on his vizor which linked to the craft’s sensors. Slowly, still sensing the area and the Mutant in general, he approached. His booted feet made no sound on the pavement, and he wondered why these two would be out in the Ruins alone and one of them dead. As he got within range of his own two eyes, his questions were answered.

The dead one lay on the pavement, his head near the gutter. The rain that had fallen for days on end had washed most of the blood from his stiffened and pale corpse. The Hunter gasped as he saw the cause of death, the throat totally torn out by - it seemed - some animal. “Runaway Approved,” he breathed, staring down at the cybernetic eye which had gone dark upon death, and the real eye which stared blindly up at him with a cloudy cast. The mouth gaped open as if in shock. Apparently, this Adult’s last thought having been that he just couldn’t believe that he was dying. To the Hunter it appeared as if this dead Adult were still crying out for salvation, the hands curled into claws that might have been reaching skyward. He shivered and swept the area again, then gently nudged the living Mutant with his black leather boot.

It whimpered, but lay still.

He rolled it over with his boot, aiming his weapon at it. He gasped and jumped back when he saw the face. It was dressed in colored clothing meant to match the Brushline, and at first he assumed it was an XX by the long braided hair. The Mutant’s almond shaped eyes were closed and mucous had crusted around those eyes and the nose both. It was slim and just a bit more than a little one, although clearly not an Adult. A pair of white and sharp looking fangs hung from its upper jaw, and it was what remained on and around those fangs that shocked the Hunter so badly. In an instant, he knew that he had found what had killed the Adult. In all of his time as a Hunter, he had never seen anything like it. There, near the half-open mouth of the Mutant, were the remnants of the Adult’s trachea and larynx and a sizeable portion of the jugular vein. All of the blood had drained away, but either from the rain or from having been sucked out by the Mutant, the Hunter had no idea. He steeled himself and nudged the Mutant again, pulling the gore from around its mouth and hurling it aside.

Again, a whimper and a light cough. The Mutant was hardly breathing.

It was either a good trap, or the Mutant was in no shape to put a fight. Still, a stun from his weapon would no doubt finish the Mutant if it were really in the shape that it appeared to be, and he consulted the computer via the vizor. “Confirmed,” the computer replied, “vital signs dangerously low, death imminent. No threat.” The Hunter smiled, holstering his weapon and kneeling down over the Mutant. He’d be paid more if the Mutant were brought in alive. He sent his Psi into it, cautiously, and was shocked to find some semblance of consciousness there. He was also shocked to find that it considered itself an XY. He probed deeper, and although he was trained not to empathize with his prey, he could not help but feel for this one. Something horrible had happened on this sidewalk there in the rain, something so unspeakable that the Mutant actually longed for death. He didn’t actually care, but he DID want it alive when he took it in. Besides, if he were to collect the pay, he would have to take it back with him and it smelled bad.

“I hate maintenance,” the Hunter muttered, “Alright, you, don’t move, IF you can move.”

Another whimper, but no movement.

Carefully he stripped the smelly clothing from the Mutant as his Psi probed further. He nudged its Mind a bit, and he was again shocked. It was conscious!

Help...

I am the Hunter. I’m taking you in, Mutant. Get up.

Let me die ... can’t get up.

“Why?” he spoke aloud.

Please let me die ... they left me.

I can’t do that. I am the Hunter. I must take you.

Noooooooo ... the thought began to fade, let me die, please ...

The Hunter shook his head, ignoring the pain and vast sadness he felt from the Mutant, and continued to strip the clothing off of the not quite-little one. He was thin, and he could count ribs. It was obvious, from the pallor of the skin and the blue nails, that he had been laying out exposed for a while. Spring had taken a chilly turn, and while the Storms were not yet due, the rains were cold. The Hunter was glad of his Suit as he felt the Mutant’s clammy skin. He gasped as he cut the brush-patterned pants away. This Mutant believed, from what his Psi had told him, that it was XY. Clearly it was XX. Then he looked closer at the vacant groin, feeling it carefully with a gloved hand. He felt shame from the Mutant, but ignored it. The genital area, or lack thereof, resembled his own too well. He heard a slight groan.

“Well, do tell!” the Hunter mused, his smile going unnoticed, “what are you, Mutant? Were you born that way or are you a Runaway e-XY?”

Runaway ... cut up long ago ... slave ... please kill me, Hunter.

No. I am a Psion, a Hunter, not an Exterminator, the Hunter offered, but you knew that?

Yes. THE Hunter. Know of you ... too bad.

More sadness and shame, emptiness, despair. It was such a stark contrast to the last emotion that he had felt with his Psi, the pure happiness of a little one about to be upgraded. He wondered at it for a moment, then shook his head. He didn’t have time to dwell upon it.

Then the Hunter spied the fountain, full to the top with the cold rainwater. “What you need is a good bath,” he said to the nearly insensate Mutant, “because I can’t fly you all the way back to a Dealer like you are now. You’ll feel better when you’re clean, trust me.”

Again, a whimper. The mouth moved, but no sound came out.

No, please, no Dealer. Just let me die.

Name?

There was a long pause, so the Hunter simply picked up the naked Mutant and carried him to the fountain. He dunked him in the cold water and began to scrub him with a cleanup kit he always carried in his pouch. It wasn’t the first time he’d been faced with the prospect of a long ride with a dirty capture. It had happened once, and he certainly wasn’t going to let it happen again! The Mutant gasped, the eyes snapped open, and he stared full into the face of his captor. He did not, however, try to struggle. His thin but lithe body remained limp in the Hunter’s Suit-protected arms. He seemed to know, and the Hunter could feel with his Psi, that he was far too weak. He seemed to be sniffing at the cleaning solution, then the Hunter’s Psi informed him that he was slipping down into total unconsciousness. He felt relief then, and some comfort.

What’s your name?

Jayk ... let me ... let m-me ...

Then his eyes closed and the Hunter could feel that he had passed out.

He was meticulous as he hurriedly scrubbed the Mutant down. His gloved hands ran over every inch of the slim body, feeling the ribs, squeezing the arms, noting the beginnings of musculature. He washed the face, noting the alluring shape of the eyes and cleaned off and under the delicate nose, being careful of the sharp fangs. He ran a hand over the smooth chin, beardless, and thought of what it must be like. He felt himself confronted with familiar feelings of frustrated arousal as he scrubbed at the long and lean legs, and he paid particular attention to the backside and the smooth area between those legs. He wondered how old the Mutant was, and how old he had been when he had been captured and gelded. Whoever had done it had done a professional job, obviously with modern healing tools. There was almost no scarring at all that he could see, in fact, the Mutant’s gelding looked to have healed up better than his own. It wasn’t hard to mistake an e-XY of such quality for an XX. Where the penis should have been, there was only smooth skin over slight indentation and no sign at all of a scrotum nor testicles. The Hunter felt down a bit further, and found the relocated urethral opening near the anus. Just like his own. He wondered if the Mutant had been conscious as he had been, forced to watch someone steal his impending Adulthood from him. “I hope you weren’t,” he whispered.

He sighed, then thought of the money that this one was likely to bring. He grinned.

He quickly finished up and rinsed the Mutant clean, washed the solution out of his long hair the best that he could, and carried him back to the craft. He opened up an emergency kit and pulled out a thermal blanket, wrapped the little e-XY in it, and strapped him into the passenger seat. As an extra precaution, he put a set of cuffs on the wrists and ankles then secured the blanket again. He then applied an emergency med-spray to the Mutant’s neck, dosing him full of nutrients and drugs and rapid healers. The computer soon beeped in alarm. “Pure Bio-sign, Unapproved Mutant, XY, age 15 Cycles, +/- 1. Dehydration, starvation, musculature cramps, chills, severe exposure. Decreased neural activity. Recommend spray #3 as well, feeding kit, warmth, rest.” The Hunter did as suggested, opening the emergency kit again and placing a padded cuff around Jayk’s arm. The cuff had a tube that led into a small box in the bottom of the pack, and the Hunter winced when he activated it. He knew that a needle was entering Jayk’s arm and forcing desperately needed fluids and nutrition into him that a shot simply couldn’t match. He turned up the heat, shivering again at the thought of what might have been Jayk’s most recent meal.

He certainly didn’t want this one dying on him.

For how long they sat there, the Hunter didn’t know. Long enough for the feeding kit to recycle once. He wanted details from this one. If “they” had left him, then “they” had to be near. No one could survive the savage Season rains or storms for long as this one had, left all alone and helpless as he had been. He assumed that “they,” meaning others including Xyn and this Jayk character, had all been together and somehow been involved in the disappearance of the transport ship. Obviously, they had raided it and carted off the booty, wanting to get back home before the Storms came. The ship had then been auto-destructed, leaving a large gaping wound in the Brushline at the edge of the Ruins. It was just all too perfect, what he had seen so far. And with the amount of cargo the ship had been listed as carrying, they couldn’t be moving very fast if they had wasted none of it; and surely they hadn’t. They couldn’t afford to waste anything. He agonized over the decision - continue on after Xyn, or take this one for the money? Risk a Storm? How close they all had to be, Jayk’s group that had abandoned him, as well as the ones he had spotted crossing the bridge! But they were many and he was one. And were they armed? And what if SHE was, in fact, aware of him now?

He dared not power up his Psi, however. He had let it idle down while cleaning up Jayk and the thought of how effort it would take to bring it to full power was disheartening. Besides, he didn’t want to announce his presence in case SHE was out there, or in case Xyn was really that good.

From time to time, as the computer scanned the area for more life signs, the Hunter checked his pathetic catch. A few times he even reached out a hand, having retracted the Suit’s gloves, and touched the sunken cheeks and the feverish brow. He wondered what it was like, to live this type of life. As the computer scanned and searched, he wondered why anyone would HAVE to live like this. It didn’t seem fair, how a select group of people had simply embraced their technology and ideals and disregarded and abused anyone who didn’t follow suit. The New World Order of Kadens the Unifier had taken over, but how many had it left behind when the dust of the BioGenic Wars had finally settled?

As the Hunter gazed upon Jayk’s sunken but soft looking face, he wondered how anyone could simply turn his back on a little one - or an Adult, for that matter - and force him to live in substandard communities, Old Cities, or simply on the streets like an animal. It was sad, he thought, how so many of the Approveds wanted that very thing while others bred them like rats and then threw them away to be hunted down ... as he himself did for a living. Again, and not knowing why, he thought of little Edward IV and his new parents. What had happened to THIS one’s parents? Was there any way to know? Probably not. Was there an end in sight to it, which would mean the end of his career?

It was paradoxical, he knew, and while he was confused, he found that he didn’t care. There hadn’t been much thrill in taking this one. Had they been as thrilled when they had taken him so long ago?

But he also wondered what it was that the Mutant had experienced that had forced him to kill - or made him WANT to kill - the Approved Adult as he had. The Hunter shivered, remembering the vacant eye and the agape mouth. He then muttered an oath and sent a Scavenger drone out to pick over the dead Approved’s corpse.

“No sense in wasting good salvage,” he said to himself.

It then occurred to him to try and find out who the Mutant was. He had said he was Jayk, but a search for “Jayk” yielded too many results. He then pulled Jayk’s head forward a bit, held his eyelid open, and scanned his retina. After a few seconds, the computer went wild with data. It beeped and blinked, an alarm sounded, and suddenly it said, “Jayk Norreth, Unapproved Mutant, Runaway Slave, pure Bio, New City Far-South. E-XY. 20 Cycles missing from legal Master. 13 Cycles in custody. Age : approximately 15.68 Cycles real time, error +/-1. Slow Mutant, chronological age unknown. Previous Hunt scans indicate 97% chance of failed capture. Facial features ...” as if the Hunter needed it. Jayk was sitting right next to him, and the silly computer had even come up with several pictures as well. It was the phrase “Slow Mutant” that had caught his attention. He smiled. “You’re worth a fuckin’ mint, kiddo,” he chuckled, already thinking of the next bits of data. He knew how much Slow Mutants were worth, especially little ones. Sure enough, within seconds, the computer had come up with the name and address of Jayk’s former Master.

“Reward offered,” it stated, “alive. Dead, no reward.” Then it paused.

“Sweet Jesus!” The Hunter breathed, staring at the sum of the reward. It made his normal pay pale in a huge comparison, and by Approveds standards, he was loaded. It DID make Abrams’ offer for Xyn pale in comparison, and that amount had almost frightened him the past day. Could ANYONE be that rich?!

There was a ‘clunk’ sound from the rear of the craft. The Hunter flinched and swore. “Scavenger Drone returned,” the computer happily reported.

The Hunter nodded. “Close all hatches, secure all systems. Prepare for takeoff, full-auto. Plot course to New City Far-South. Normal cruise, then maximum speed when we clear the Brushline. Engage.”

The computer did that, and within minutes the craft was high over the Flats, speeding along towards the statue of the lady with her book and battered torch. While the craft flew on auto-pilot, the Hunter looked at the images. They showed Jayk clothed, naked, intact, cut ... several combinations, in fact. He began to sweat and his Suit hissed. “I can see why your Master wants you back so badly!” He said, passing a hand to his crotch. He snorted. “And I know how you feel.”

Jayk didn’t reply. His soft even breathing, marred only by an occasional wheeze, told the Hunter that the drugs were taking effect and that his captive had passed into exhausted sleep. They flew on as the Hunter read more. It seemed that Jayk had a record, or a suspected record, several kilometers long. Of course, a Slow Mutant WOULD have that kind of time. “Is this Master still alive, even?” he asked, growing bored with the legal details.

“Affirmative,” the computer replied, “Everett T. Wilson, Approved XY Adult, age 118 Cycles, Maintenance verified. Address verified. Send message?” The Hunter declined, still deep in thought. He checked his own messages, but found nothing.

“I’d hoped he’d be anxious to write,” he sighed, “Must be getting old.”

“Negative,” the computer’s genderless voice replied, thinking it was being addressed, “The age of the Hunter is Approved low, estimate 85% remaining with Maintenance.”

The Hunter snorted and shut off the voice actuator. “Fuck you,” he grumbled.

It had been a brief trip, and while he had not found Xyn, he had found something else.

Jayk.

Then he heard it, coming to him faintly in the corner of his Mind where his Psi idled when it was only ‘listening’ and not ‘sending’. It was faint, but it was close. “Jayk ... I’m coming, Jayk!” Then it was gone, the ‘sound’ of a Psi fallen into unconsciousness. For a moment, he thought of turning back.

“N!” he gasped, keeping a tight grip on his own Psi, but knowing that he was surely within a day’s walk of the Runaway Bio. For a moment, he thought of waking Jayk.

For a moment, he thought of filing the required mission reports that were his duty.

But he did none of those things.

He smiled again, reading on about Jayk’s unique history and growing all the more frustrated as the winds began to turn and jostled the sleek craft.