XY-n 6

She sighed heavily and watched them pass by her, heedless of the constant rain. And although her Psi ranged out ahead and behind them, ever vigilant to the threat of the Hunter of whose existence which she now knew, her heart ached nonetheless. The two who had left these empty spots were gone. One was dead and one was the killer - left for dead. She swept over them all again, becoming attuned to the presence of the new groups. There were so many, and so many more with talents, some with even new talents, yet some hiding things. This she could feel, but was determined not to pry. Suddenly the feeling of things hidden began to grow stronger, and her Psi pinpointed it with ease.

A small rover-type vehicle was approaching, loaded with as much cargo as it could carry. It also carried two passengers. One was the little one that she had named Xyn Psion, for his talents and his gift to her charge Dan. The other was a newcomer, a very small and sickly little XY known only as Tym. Shar shivered as the rover passed by her. The driver, somewhat of a stranger to her, she could feel. He was elated and cautious, his almost colorless eyes darting this way and that. Occasionally he would shake his head of long white hair and wipe the water from his slightly green tinted face. She felt heat as well as they passed, but what made her blood run cold was the fact that from Xyn Psion, she felt nothing. The little XY in the dirty white Suit gave her Psi nothing to sense. It was as if, were it not for the breathing and heartbeat, that she was scanning a dead man. The one she had heard called Tym, so frail and inoffensive looking, was curled up in Xyn’s lap. His thin arms were locked around Xyn’s chest and his face buried in Xyn’s shoulder. However, the little Psion’s eyes were vacant, staring straight ahead of him and seeing nothing.

It was from Tym that the sensation came, she suddenly realized. With a start, she turned and began to follow the rover. The driver nodded to her and turned back to his job at hand. Gently, suppressing a chill, Shar probed at Xyn’s Mind. Nothing. Then Tym spun his head around to face her, his eyes wide and his eyebrows creased into a hateful frown. For a split second, Shar felt something from him. In another split second, her defenses raised. Then it was gone. Tym whimpered and resumed his former position. That was all she needed to know.

Tym? She inquired. Nothing. Again. Please, no, came the faint reply, Please leave us alone!
The driver, whom Shar thought was called Chriss, slowed the rover a bit. Mentally, Shar ‘cleared her throat.’ Thank you Chriss, but this is a private conversation.

Chriss the Pyro pulled his limited Psi back to himself. Sorry, he offered.

Not a problem, thank you for slowing.

Again, she reached out to Tym. I know you’re hiding something, little one. Something very strong. I know you feel guilt, fear, hurt. I know you’ve been rejected, but no one will reject you here, nor drive you away. I also know that you feel responsible for Xyn, the one to whom you cling both night and day, but how are you to blame? No one knows the pitfalls and traps which befall a Psion, especially a novice little one.

Please ... please just leave us alone! Tym replied, and Shar could feel the pain in his thought. The pain joined with her own, and she reached out a metaphysical hand of sorts to Tym.

He didn’t take it.

Instead, Shar could feel the walls within his mind fortifying, feel his defenses going into full alert. The fragile looking little one was drawing himself up for battle, but yet it did not feel like any kind of Psionic tactic that she was familiar with. This was something new.

Don’t make me do it, he almost pleaded, his thoughts agonized, You’re distracting me. I have to figure it out. I have to fix it. I have to make it right. We’ll be OK, I swear, just leave us alone! I don’t what might happen if ... if ...

Shar felt his thought break off. Sweeping her raven black hair - which had gone flat from the rain - off of her shoulders, she drew herself up. If this strange little one wanted to, she was more than game for a challenge. In the past, she had been private and gentle. However, this one was hiding something from her - something dangerous. THAT much she could tell, and this was a very bad time for secrets. Their progress was too slow, and the threat of the Hunter or others like him, too great. With the pain in her heart worsened by what she knew she had to do, Shar brought her full will to bear. The driver stopped the rover and gasped in shock.

“Inform the other Psions,” she ordered.

He nodded and closed his eyes, then at her unspoken command, he jumped down from the driver’s seat and ran. He didn’t want to be anywhere near them. The rest of the line of Outcasts crossed to the other side of the empty street, none of them looking in her direction. It took only seconds for the Psions in the assorted groups to pass the word, and Shar began her investigation into Tym’s Mind.

It will be better if you tell me outright, Tym, she entreated one last time.

There was a pause, then Shar felt Tym’s Mind sweeping gently over her. It was NOT Psionic, however! It was like nothing she had felt before. A flash of fear seized her, but she threw it off. Shar had not backed down from anyone or anything since going Runaway so long ago, and this little one was not going to be the one who made her run again. His touch was fleeting and gentle, and somewhere deep inside of him, Shar felt a cry building. She lashed out at that feeling, found it, and envisioned taking Tym in her arms and integrating him into the lives of her other little ones. She could feel the pain building, and the familiar feeling of a simply angry little one who wasn’t getting his own way welled up. THIS she knew how to deal with. Come, she invited.

She was totally unprepared for what hit her. Suddenly the ruined city was gone, and she was running down a busy street with an angry man chasing her. Her lungs were on fire, her sides ached and her head throbbed. She saw that clutched in her tiny hand was a strange fruit of some kind, and that piece of fruit meant more to her than the entire world. She longed to bite into it, wolf it down, and run again. Instead she stopped, bringing her will to bear on her pursuer. She felt the hate emanating from him as he aimed a weapon at her. “YOU are not real,” she replied, throwing the odd fruit at him. It passed through his chest as if he were a phantom without so much as slowing down. It splattered on the pavement behind him, and some part of her wanted to wail in despair. “THIS is not real, either. THIS is not who I AM!” And with that, the scene vanished. Once again, she stared at Tym, who still sat on the catatonic Xyn’s lap. He was trembling violently and shaking his head.

I didn’t mean to! he cried at her Mind, Please, please don’t hurt us! Don’t leave us! We’ll get better, I swear we will, I can fix it! I know I can!

Shar thought for a moment, and the wave of sadness and fear coming off of Tym nearly buckled her knees. Then it came to her. Tym had flashed one of his memories at her. It was a memory so strong that it took the recipient by surprise and literally pulled him into itself. Shar was amazed! She was also amazed at Tym’s reply to her question, Can you not trust even your own kind? We will not harm you, Tym, that I promise.

LIAR! Tym’s Mind screamed at her, You loved him! You were listening to him! He wanted to leave Xyn behind to die, and you were listening to him! Jayk loved Xyn more than anyone, more than his own life, and almost more than he loved YOU! And what did you do to him when he tried to protect us? You left him! You left him laying in the gutter to die, just like HE wanted to do to Xyn!

Once again, the scene of Jayk ripping out the throat of the big man - no, not just any man - the group leader with the cybernetic eye, played before Shar’s stunned Mind. She saw Jayk changed, saw him lunge, saw herself hit him with the full unadulterated force of her Will. She felt shame at her actions. She felt the loss. The empty places in her heart cried out, and as she saw the blood fountaining up out of HIS ruined neck to splash all over Jayk once more, she heard Tym scream verbally, for all to hear, “I WON’T take that place! I won’t trust you! You might be the Queen to this band of Mutants and Outcasts and be the one with the grand plan, but I won’t trust you! You’re a liar and a bitch and I HATE you!”

It was the hatred in his voice.

The memory played out, and Shar didn’t stop it as she had before. She watched as Jayk came back to his senses, and she knew that he was frightened and afraid. A new sense of self-loathing, so recently cured by Xyn’s tender mercies, flooded through the exposed Beast Mutant and he began to tremble. Finally, she felt it become to much for him to bear. All of the times she had tried to comfort him over the past twenty Cycles came to mind. How hurt he had been when she’d rescued him from his life of slavery, and how many times she had tried to heal that hurt. Always, however, Jayk had resisted. Now, in the memory that Tym threw at her unmercifully, her Psi saw the horrible pain that had been in Jayk’s heart. In all of his long Cycles as a Slow Mutant, trapped seemingly forever in the body of a little one, Jayk had never willingly harmed another living soul. There were times when he had defended himself, yes, but this killing was far too much for him to accept. He was collapsing to the dirty sidewalk, and as he fell, Shar saw herself turning her back on him.

The ache was forming then, a piece of herself staying behind. No, two pieces. Shar realized, as Tym ceased his assault, what she had done. She had let her personal feelings and her own anger make the decision for her. The best interests of the group had been her foremost concern then. Jayk was a Beast as well as a Slow Mutant, and he could not be trusted. He had proven himself a killer, and he could not remain. She remembered leaving him, and she remembered the anger.

Anger spawned of love.

And pride.

There was no justification as she saw herself walking away.

Then with a broken hearted wail, and to the shock of the group, Shar buried her flawless face in her hands and screamed.

Every Psion in the group paused. All movement ceased. Little ones clung to the nearest Adult or each other. Only Xyn did not respond, or rather, no one saw him respond. Not even Tym, who had gone back to his careful plans of awakening his new friend.

Xyn looked up and blinked.

Then he looked at his companion in this strange place. “Jayk, that was Shar. I know her!”

Jayk’s elation was obvious. “Yes, Shar! You remember her? Do you know her? Do you know ME?”

Xyn thought about it. “I know you,” he said, as the wind picked up and the grass bent even further, “I know you, Jayk. You found me ... in the forest. You took me ... you took me ... home! To YOUR home. That’s where Shar was!”

Jayk smiled broadly, his curved fangs flashing and dripping as the rain soaked them clean. “You helped me,” he offered.

Xyn nodded, this brow creased in deep thought. “We did something. Us. Even though you’re not, I mean, well ...” he faltered, gesturing at Jayk’s smooth crotch, “I didn’t know and you showed me ...” Jayk was nodding, and the feelings that Xyn was remembering caused a stirring in his own crotch. However, Xyn had something there in his - and he now knew what it could do. It all came back at him in a sudden rush : the confusion, the pleasure, the seemingly infinite orgasm which had almost killed Jayk, and very good it had all felt. He found that he wasn’t ashamed, in fact, he wanted to do it again! There was, however, no time.

He remembered what he had seen of Jayk’s life, Jayk’s memories. He recalled being Xyn/Jayk and the pleasures as well as pain. Very carefully, he tried to reconstruct that merging, but then something slipped.

“YOU didn’t like me because you thought I was different, you thought I was dangerous!” Xyn suddenly yelled, pulling away from Jayk and standing up. “You made me leave! You hit me! You made me leave, and you said you’d kill me if I came back!”

Jayk, however, was ready for this. While Xyn had slept, Jayk had not only formulated his own ideas on what Chriss wanted do to Xyn (castrate him to enhance his Psionic Mutant powers) but he had also formulated what was wrong in this fantasy world into which Xyn had drawn them. The bald little Psion was backing away then, shaking. “No, Xyn,” Jayk explained slowly, “That’s not you. That didn’t happen to YOU. You think it did, but it happened to Tym. It isn’t real for YOU, Xyn, but it is for him. Tym’s got some kind of ability, like a Psi but not a Psi, and he somehow bonded with you and you can’t separate your Mind from his. TRY!”

Xyn thought about it, almost starting to run, when Jayk suddenly jumped him and threw him down. On impulse, he slammed his mouth down over Xyn’s, kissing the struggling and confused one as the rain continued to fall on them. He took him into a lovers’ embrace, and found himself not wanting to let go. On the wind, it seemed, as Jayk felt Xyn’s return of the kiss, there was a voice crying out. Xyn released him and was smiling again. “Jayk, I remember! But I remember someone else too. Some man who said he loved me and took care of me, but I remember that he was a man who hated me too! Everyone hated me and I had to run away!”

Jayk nodded. “The hate is Tym’s, not yours. He’s never been loved. You’ve always been loved, Xyn, before the day I met you in the forest AND after. NO ONE hates YOU! Tym’s trying to let himself love you, but he doesn’t know how. When you befriended him, that great loving heart of yours went out to him! His Mind is running away with him, and he can’t control it, at least that’s what I think. You’ve drawn us both here, Xyn, trying to break away, but HE can’t let you go. This is in YOUR Mind, and you have to break us out of it! Can you do that?”

“Somewhere out there,” Xyn replied, pulling them both up onto their knees, “There are three paths : you and I and the trip to the transport ship, me running for my life and being homeless, and me wondering why I’m not still in the facility with Mr. Rick and the Carebots. Only one is mine. In the real world, is Tym. He needs help. Shar’s there, and the rest of the gang. And other gangs. In the Ruins. And somewhere, Mr. Rick is out there too. He’s the man who took care of me in the Facility. He’s in the past now, but he’s a part of it, too.”

Jayk nodded, still clinging to Xyn as if he were afraid to let go. He didn’t want to mention what he thought of this ‘Rick’ person; it would only hurt Xyn more. “Hold onto that, Xyn, don’t lose it. You and I are the real path. The next is what Tym lived through, and the last is what he wants for both of you. I think something happened while you were taking care of Tym, something that sent you here and made you draw me in too. Maybe it was you trying to get back to ‘yourself,’ I don’t know. Use that Psi of yours, Xyn, and break us out of here. Who knows what’s happening to our bodies back in the real world?”

Xyn nodded, looking skyward. The rain was letting up.

“I think I can,” he said grimly, and with that, Xyn Psion gathered his own Will as he had felt Shar do in the past. Even Jayk felt it in his Mind as Xyn clutched his long-fingered hands in a crushing grip, pulling away from his body only enough to look into his dark, almond-shaped eyes. Xyn thought of Shar, Mr. Rick, and Jayk. He thought of Tym, and he carefully drove all of the thoughts of hate from his Mind. Focusing on those four alone, he held onto Jayk as if the world were at stake and let his Will loose.

The thunderclap was deafening, and both were thrown to the ground.

[br

The wind picked up a bit, then suddenly there was a clap of thunder that shook loose debris from the abandoned buildings all around them. Several ran for cover, but Shar only bowed her head.

Then, silence.

The rain continued to fall, hiding her tears.

No one spoke. No one moved.

It was Chriss, the Pyro, who finally broke the eerie silence as Shar knelt weeping. He approached her slowly, and laid a somewhat long and thin arm around her heaving shoulders. Very gently, he pulled her close and let the natural warmth of his Mutant body surround her. His Psi was listening, and the thoughts and fragments that Shar was spilling, literally and mentally, were overpowering. Her use of HIM and him was, however, confusing. Chriss couldn’t tell if she meant Jayk, or worse yet, his own group’s leader - the big man with the cybernetic eye. Chriss had never really considered HIM very loveable.

It took some time for Shar to regain her composure. She stared up at Chriss and whispered, aloud, “His name was Kel. We met in University, and we were ... we ... well, we were intimate.” Chriss’s face flushed. At least his confusion was cured.

“He was a genius in cybernetics, Kel was. He wasn’t always like you knew him, Chriss. Once he was loving, and he was loved in return. You knew him as harsh and demanding, always at work, but it was not always so. I knew a kinder, warmer Kel long ago.”

The young Pyro nodded, and the other Psions got the group moving again. There were startled looks as they passed, those who knew of Shar. Her own group, thankfully, had been at the front of the line. She was sure, however, that they had heard or felt her as well. Chriss got back onto the rover, and flipped a switch which extended the seat. “Ride shotgun,” he invited.

She thought about it for a moment, but Tym had gone back to his own contemplations and was totally withdrawn, his face once again buried in Xyn’s shoulder.

Shar climbed on behind Chriss, and he started the rover’s engine. She glanced over her shoulder to check the cargo and the two passengers, but she felt it with her Psi before she saw it. Elation. Triumph. Intense relief, but then confusion. What she saw was Tym grasping Xyn by the shoulders and shaking him, repeating his name over and over. Xyn was blinking rapidly and shaking his head while scratching at it. He was confused, but Tym was overjoyed. He was literally screaming and smiling, but he was still wary. His own Psi was also running full force - she could feel that as well. “I did it! I did it! I knew I could do it!” Tym was crying out, “Xyn, I’m sorry! Please believe me, I didn’t mean to! I don’t even know how I did it, it just happened! Please don’t hate me!” To Shar, it looked as if the tiny little one were now even more fragile and pale than before. Blood was running from one side of his nose, and his pleas were marred by coughs.

Xyn looked around, then took Tym’s shoulders in his hands. His joints ached and his body was stiff. He was also very hungry. He pushed those feelings aside, however, staring deeply into Tym’s eyes. It took him only an instant to regain his bearings, and his Suit beeped and hissed at him as he moved. The aches and pains slowly subsided, and Shar felt him focusing his Psi. It was a relief, and she was overjoyed as well, but it also frightened her. What would he do?

About then Tym sneezed, showering Xyn’s front in bright red blood.

He ignored that.

“Tym,” Xyn said in a voice dusty and rough from so many days of not being used, “Tym, listen to me!” Xyn’s Psi was bearing down on the little one, Shar could feel it. She was, however, too far gone in her own despair and wounded pride to interfere. This was between Tym and Xyn, and she felt that she had already done enough damage. But something else was wrong, very wrong. Tym was frightened beyond belief, and Xyn was looking this way and that, searching. Suddenly Tym literally collapsed, shivering and whimpering, as Xyn’s Psi let go. Shar felt the strange undefined defenses of the little one blown into nothingness, but she also felt no malice from Xyn. Only desperation, compassion.

Then panic.

Xyn was searching, both with his Psi and his eyes, but he was searching the streets and all around them as well as in Tym’s Mind.

“Jayk?” he screamed, jerking his fuzzy head this way and that and scratching at it unconsciously, “Where’s Jayk?!” he screamed aloud.

They were a young couple, and with them was a Carebot and a little one. The Hunter inclined his head politely and greeted them. “Thank you,” the young lady said to him. He nodded and smiled. He stepped back a bit as the Carebot passed by last, saying “Thank you, sir.” He didn’t like robots. They gave him the shivers for some reason. Cyborgs, if one wanted to use the archaic term, didn’t bother him. After all, all Approveds were technically Cyborgs - some more than others, but Cyborgs all the same. In fact, he himself now fell into that category. His Processor and memory chips and Nanobots qualified him for that.

“You’re welcome,” he muttered as they passed by him. He turned to go inside, but stopped when he heard the sound of running footsteps and felt a tug on his sleeve. He turned and looked down. The little one was short, probably seven or eight Cycles of age, and he was dressed in a plain beige jumpsuit and brown sandals. He was bald, just like all of the Facility Bios were, and his deep brown eyes sparkled. The Hunter noticed the young couple smiling back then, but the Carebot was trotting back up the walk shaking its head. “Don’t bother the nice man, Edward,” the young lady was saying, “Come along now!” The little XY didn’t respond.

“Edward?!” the young man called out.

The little one still didn’t move. Surely he couldn’t be deaf. That would have been repaired. The Hunter probed him just a bit with his Psi, and smiled. The little Bio didn’t know his new name yet. “H2!” the Carebot demanded, and the little XY snapped his head around with a smile on his face. “But he’s a Hunter!” The little one replied, as if this were to explain his behavior, “He’s a Hunter and he might not know! He wasn’t there then!”

The young couple looked him over again, their faces awed. “Oh my,” the young lady began, “You’re a Hunter? Well, do excuse our new son, please. We just got ownership of him today. Our first!”

The young man was clearly embarrassed. “Dear,” he chided, “the man has work to do. He doesn’t want to hear about us. Come along, Edward. He has business to take care of.”

The Carebot was there then, reaching out to take the little one by the hand. The Hunter swiftly scooped him up into his well-muscled arms, however, putting up a hand to stop the robot. He then looked into the little one’s smiling face. “Are you hunting for N?” he asked, as the Carebot looked irritated. The Hunter enjoyed that, the very thought that the creepy robot might be annoyed. He smiled back.

“Who?” he asked.

“N!” The little one said again, “He got lost after the fire. Me and my dormies got out, but a lot of the older Bios got burned up. They couldn’t find N, but M and O died. Well, O died a couple of days later. He was burned real bad. It even melted some of his Suit. I was burned some, but mine all healed, see?” He then rolled up his sleeves to show the Hunter the new pink skin on his arms that didn’t match the rest of his white tones. The Hunter suppressed a shiver. Suits were supposed to be fireproof, he had been told.

“H2,” the Carebot said again, “Your parents are ready to go.”

“Shut up,” the Hunter demanded of the robot, “This little fellow has something to tell me, if you don’t mind.”

The young man approached them, and the Hunter offered him his free hand. “Edward Daniels III, nice to meet you,” he said, “And is this N- person the same one that’s been all over the newscasts? Tragic! Lost, alone. Poor little thing. I hope you or someone finds him soon. Oh, and I see you’ve met Edward IV here.”

The Hunter smiled. “Adopting?” he asked, as Edward IV rubbed at his off-colored spots. The young man flushed a bit, leaning in so as to whisper. “My wife’s sterile, and well, we’ve wanted a little one for a long time. Money isn’t the issue, but we just finally decided to adopt. They only let us have one for now, so we let the computer pick him at random. That and I sort of felt that cloning was well, rather selfish of me. The only problem I think we’re going to have right off is getting him to respond to the name ‘Edward’!”

“MEN!” they heard the young lady snort, already walking away. “Dear, I’m going to wait in the vehicle. Don’t be long gossiping. And they talk about us ... just as bad, worse even ...” she was muttering to herself as she walked away and got in.

They all smiled at that, except for the robot, of course, who had shut up.

Normally, the Hunter would have been annoyed by all of this. Why did he care how much money these two had spent on buying a little one, or how they’d managed to afford one who hadn’t been used for any parts yet?

There was, however, something so earnest in the little one’s face. He realized that had he met him out on the streets with no ID or a Beacon that he would have just stunned him and taken him away. He would have either brought him here or sold him to a Dealer. Then he wondered ... perhaps this was one of the rare babies that he had brought in in the past. Now and then, Unapproveds would leave unwanted infants out where a Hunter was sure to find them.

He looked back at the little XY and said, with some ache in his heart, “Yes, you got all fixed up really well.” He made a show of examining the small, pink hands, “ Now, as you asked, I DO know about N! If I find him, I’ll bring him right back here. The Director wants him back, you know.”

Little Edward IV, formerly known as H2, nodded. Impulsively, and not sure why he did it, the Hunter rubbed a comparatively huge hand over the little bald XY’s head. “You’ll have hair before too much longer,” he offered.

“That’s one mystery we’re looking forward to solving,” Edward III laughed, “Little Edward here’s never had hair before. He doesn’t know what it’s going to feel like, or what color it will be!”

“I have to wait a while for it though,” the little one reminded him.

“Why’s that?” the Hunter asked in an interested voice, his Psi probing delicately.

“I have to get a Processor put in my head first, and a big shot of Nannerbots!” the little one exclaimed, “Does that hurt?”

“Edward!” - “H2!” the young man and the Carebot said in unison. The little XY looked confused .

The Hunter laughed, remembering his own upgrade. “No, it won’t hurt a bit,” he assured the now-worried little one, “All they do is give you a drink, you go to sleep for a bit, and when you wake up you have a little tiny bandage over a little tiny hole in the top of your head and what looks like a bug bite on your arm. And the word is ‘Nanobots.’ Those are what keep you healthy and happy outside of the Facility. In a couple of days, you’re all healed up and you can grow your hair in and see what color it is.”

Edward IV seemed happy with the explanation and nodded. He then scratched at his stomach. “Do clothes always itch so bad?” he asked, “Cause if they do, I want my Suit back!” Then he looked at his hands and arms and grimaced. “And is this new skin gonna change color and match ever?”

They all laughed at that. “You’ll get used to it, Edward,” the father replied, “And, yes, your skin will all match up someday. They have to keep the Suit here, you know. They don’t let Approved little ones have Suits. That’s why you have to have the upgrade.”

The Hunter thought for a moment. “If he was wearing his Suit, how did he get burnt?”

The little one’s face grew distant. He looked down at the ground. “We were in bed. I wasn’t wearing it, no one was. The alarms went off, but the fire was too fast. Some of them ran. I went for my Suit, like you’re supposed to, but I went back for H1. I was gonna pull him out but it was too hot and ... and ... I couldn’t hold on anymore! I dragged him some, but ...”

The Hunter saw what it looked like, and as Edward IV began to cry, he gently reached into the little XY’s mind and carefully attempted something that he had never done before. Very delicately, he let his Psi fall on the memories of the fire, of H1's screaming, of the burning pain in the little hands and arms. He merged himself into it, surrounded it, then imagined pushing it back a bit. Edward IV’s eyes went blank, then his tears stopped and he looked confused.

Don’t think about it too much, Edward, and remember your new name! the Hunter thought. The little one smiled again, nodding in delight. It seemed to have worked.

He then took aim at the new father, who seemed to not know what to do. Don’t mention it to him again, whatever you do. He won’t remember it very often anymore, and you’ll just upset him. As far as me, you know what I am now, and I was never here. Got it?”

Very carefully, the Hunter handed the little one back to his new father, who nodded. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small mail-chip. The young man took it, staring in awe. “That’s very secretive,” he offered, “but if little Edward here thinks of anything to tell me about N, just let me know. Once you use it I can mail you back, or if you’d like to report Runaways or Unapproved problems as well, don’t hesitate to use it! It’s the duty of all good Approveds to report crimes. It also will link you to the Central Runaway Network, if you’d like to browse that for familiar faces or make a report. And I WILL let you know if I find N,” he said to Edward IV.

The little XY smiled at him, swinging his sandaled feet below the crook of his new father’s arm. He wrapped his arms about the young man’s neck, and laid his shiny head on his shoulder. The Hunter watched them turn and go with an obscure pain in his heart. At least one little Bio was going to a good home, it seemed, and not being parted out or enslaved. The little one was still chattering as he turned to go inside, realizing that he had made himself a bit late. He didn’t care though.

“Sir, are you quite alright?” the Carebot asked.

“What?!” the Hunter demanded as the robot turned and watched the family drive off.

“You’re crying. Are you ill or in pain? I am fully trained to see to the needs of ...”

Absently, the surprised Hunter wiped the wetness from his cheeks. “Shut up, I said.” And with that, he jerked the door back open leaving the robot to watch the shiny and expensive auto carrying his former charge, H2, off to his new life.

He marched through the vestibule as if he owned the place, upset that his Psi had not only confirmed that the fortunate little Edward IV WAS indeed going to a loving home, but that he was also one of those abandoned Bio infants that he had brought in some years ago. He never forgot a Mind. Faces, yes - Minds, no. And with what he had just done for the little one, to his own surprise, he was sure to remember Edward IV forever.

He flashed his badge at the clerk on duty, and the inner door opened. A brief whoosh of warm air swept over him, a bright light flashed, and the opposite door opened to admit him into the Facility itself. The slight pause didn’t bother him. He knew that it was necessary to insure the health and safety of the inmates who were so valuable. As he headed down the hall to the office of Director Abrams, he allowed himself a bit of musing. How many times had he thought of trying to keep one of those infants? The thought of a son, any little XY to call his own, appealed to him and he was reminded of the ancient saying, “We always want what we know we cannot have.” Grimly, he knocked on Abrams’ door.

“Enter!”

The Hunter did that. He found himself in a rather spartan office with only the desk, Network interface console, and two chairs near the desk. The rest of the office was empty. Abrams, the Director of Facility #32, sat behind that desk in an off-white business suit. He was much younger than the Hunter had guessed, figuring that his mail and readouts had contained an old picture. He guessed him to be near 24 Cycles at the most, which was old for an Unapproved but young for those lucky enough to rate Implants. It seemed, as the Hunter pulled up a chair, that Abrams was making use of the Network. There was a thin and dull blue line of light running from the console to Abrams’ right temple. Now and again, the light would flicker and scan over his eye. His right hand also never left the pad near the screen. He was clearly pissed.

“Fucking people pay a bloody fortune for a little Bio then show up days late to claim him! The nerve! If they’re that hard up for a little one, why bother ME? I have things to do, dammit. Jesus, if I’d known that H2 or Eddie or whatever they’re going to call him was so damn chatty I’d have had his voice box paralyzed for a couple of nights. They show up late and who has to take care of the little bugger? Me, of course! Can I take a Carebot to do it? Noooooo .... what the hell do I want with a little one?” Abrams ranted on and on ...

But the Hunter knew he was lying. There was no reason at all that he couldn’t have left H2 with a Carebot. His Psi told him right off that Abrams DID want a little one - a very specific little one. The little one he had just read about, in fact, only some days ago. He smiled. “I have an idea where N might be,” he offered, interrupting Abrams’ rant.

It worked.

Abrams pulled his hand off of the pad and moved his head, breaking his Network connection. “Where?” he demanded.

The Hunter toyed with him. After thinking about his recent run-in with little Edward, formerly H2, he had decided that he didn’t care for Abrams’ tone. He himself would have taken that one home with him in a heartbeat, but that would have been a large mistake unless he could have come up with some reason as to why he couldn’t bring him in. He sighed. “Guess,” he replied sarcastically.

Abrams face hardened. The Hunter’s Psi could feel his frustration, desperation. He was growing angry, and thoughts of retribution were running through his Mind. “That’s YOUR job, dammit!” he growled.

The Hunter smiled. “I don’t think I need to remind you that I’m not just a Hunter, Abrams. I’m THE Hunter, whom YOU requested. You did so because I am the best, remember? You want this brat back, remember? Yesssssss,” he crooned, smiling evilly, “you DO want him back, and it is not I who forgets himself. It is YOU! Remember, boss man, I’m the Psion here. You might be able to order MY death, or worse, but not before I melt your Mind down to where even your memory chips are smoking, so don’t fuck with me!”

Abrams backed down. He let the anger run out of him, calming himself with thoughts of Xyn and how he had felt before the damnable fire that had killed so many and somehow managed to get his favorite little one lost. He was still working on the problem of how the fire had gotten started, and none of it made sense. It also made no sense as to why Xyn hadn’t come back. If he had survived the fire, why would he have left if he could have felt how badly Abrams was worried about him?

The Hunter was smiling, listening in to Abrams line of thought. “It doesn’t work that way. You see, your little brat didn’t KNOW he was a Psion. He knew he was different, but he didn’t know why. You don’t teach them things they really need to know, Abrams. He knew he could feel how others felt, hear their thoughts sometimes, but he didn’t know how to use it. He knew everyone liked him, thought YOU loved him, but he had no clue as to why. He only knew he had to keep it quiet at all costs, because he got that from you. Now, tell me why you want him back so bad - and don’t give me a line of shit about Resources and money and adoptions and such.”

Abrams was shocked. In fact, he was hurt by the Hunter’s ruthless invasion of his Mind. “You, sir, are a very bad man,” he countered, “but I’ll tell you this much. I love that little one as if he were my own. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because HE made me love him. Maybe it’s because he’s just plain loveable. Maybe it’s because I desperately want a little XY to call my own and they won’t let me have one. I’m sure YOU can understand THAT one,” Abrams concluded, his last remark stinging the Hunter to his very core.

The Hunter nodded, his mind racing back over and over to dwell on his own truncated childhood. He remembered being taken. He remembered his training and schooling. He remembered his castration. Painfully, he remembered it. He could relate to Abrams’ desires, IF they were true. He did not, however, use his Psi to look further. Instead, he switched it off.

Abrams sighed. “Xyn used to do the same thing when he got tired,” he offered.

“Who?” the Hunter asked, confused.

Abrams flushed. “Just a nickname for a nameless little Bio. The N designation fit the XY classification on paper and sounds like ‘zin’, don’t you think? He used to laugh and say he was the only Bio here with a nickname.”

“You’re not supposed to get attached to them.”

Abrams slammed his fist on the desk. “Dammit, I’d like to see YOU do this job, day in and day out, and not get attached to them! And he was a Psion Mutant, anyway! How do I know he didn’t do it to ME and not vice versa?”

The Hunter sneered and walked over to the window. He sniffed. “You have coffee in here somewhere,” he stated, “I can smell it.”

Abrams muttered an unflattering word and reached into a part of the back side of his desk that visitors couldn’t see from the front. He poured two cups of the steaming coffee and offered the Hunter one. He sipped it and smiled. “Why don’t YOU do MY job for a while and see if you like it any better? Oh, and before you head out, we’ll cut off those annoying, heavy, dangling XY parts of yours first so you don’t damage the merchandise before you bring it in.”

“IF I bring it in at all.”

The Hunter sighed, returning to his seat. “Touche’,” he admitted.

“Now, where’s Xyn?”

“N,” the Hunter put emphasis on the one letter designation out of spite, “Is in the Ruins, or maybe under the Ruins.”

Abrams’ face paled. “How?”

“Simple. The place burnt, he got out, the fence had a hole in it, and he went through it. He walked into the forest and kept going. He might have stopped late that night and napped, but I doubt it. He IS wearing a Suit you know, and these damn things are indestructible. Personally, I hate mine, but I digress. He could have broken a leg and the Suit would have fixed it in a few hours. He walked and walked, then he walked some more. See, I don’t think he knew he could use his Psi to feel you from so far off. What he knew how to do with it, he did in very close proximity to others. I’d say the best he’d ever done was Psi his way down a dark hall there, or knew you were coming around a corner. Hell, he’d never even been OUTSIDE before! He saw the sky and the grass and the trees for all of his life through the windows, but he never touched them! He never felt the wind or the sun on his face. He grew up in an artificial environment, reading about outside, and longing for it. Eventually, he ran out of trees and ended up on the fringe at the Flats. Now, his Suit could have protected him if he tried to cross it...”

Abrams listened, fascinated, as the Hunter went on.

“...my theory is either he did that, and found the Ruins. He might have felt it out with his Psi, but I doubt it. It’s more likely that my other theory is true - that one of the Mutants and Unapproveds who can survive there when even most rats can’t, found him in the forest while out scavenging for food. It is the right time of year for that. They would have taken him back with them, adding to their ranks you know.” He paused and sipped his coffee, giving it time to sink into Abrams’ mind. He could see that Abrams was making full use of his Processors with scenarios.

“You know that the Com-Tell satellite is still offline. Its orbit is even failing.”

The Hunter nodded. “Yes, I haven’t been able to uplink or scan the area in weeks. Odd, isn’t it? And isn’t it odd that the number of Hunters bringing in Unapproveds and such is falling too? They’re getting scarce. The legitimate ones with ID’s and Beacons in the Old City are all still there, it seems, business as usual. But us Hunters are having a rough time of it. Now, get this one,” he went on, “add this all up. Then look at my vehicle’s data and scans. We know we can’t get from here to there, or if we did, we’d die. BUT, I wouldn’t die. Xyn has a Suit, and so do I. He’s also a Mutant, even though he looks normal enough. No one here but YOU knew he was a Psion. I am both of those as well - Mutant, upgraded, but I am still a Mutant. And I have a Suit. No Approved can survive in the Ruins, that’s why they’re all going there. The search ended at the Flats, because they assumed he couldn’t go there either. The searchers couldn’t go to the Ruins, but I’m sure they don’t know about these Suits and what they can do. BUT I DO!”

Abrams was sweating now. “Go on,” he almost begged.

“So, our little Xyn, as you fondly call him, toddles on through the woods and comes upon an Unapproved Mutant of some kind. They hit it off. They want him, they like him. Remember the satellite being down and no scans, and the number of captures being down? They’re all going there, and he’s fallen in with THEM!”

“But that kind of life would be so hard?!” Abrams objected.

The Hunter shook his head. “Some days ago, a class 1 commercial transport ship went missing. It’s still gone. Guess what? It had to fly over the Ruins to reach the Old City for which it was bound. It was a robot ship, because they don’t even take chances on Approveds with fly-overs and they don’t trust upgraded x-Unapproveds for the job. Put it all together, Abrams. Then link up to this code, to my vehicle.” The Hunter handed him a data pad.

Abrams did that and his face went pale. It all added up. The satellite was down. There was no way to get anyone IN to the Ruins to look. No scans. No data. Unapproveds and Mutant captures falling fast. Then the transport ship going missing. It all made sense. Then Abrams hit the core of the data. He gasped. “Sweet Jesus!” he exploded.

The Hunter laughed. “There must have been 500 of them on that bridge,” he offered helpfully, as Abrams viewed the scans from the exhausted vehicle. “I watched them for a long time until I got your call. Actually, I was so low on power, I didn’t know if I’d make it back. We need to engineer longer range hunting craft, Abrams. Or if you’ve got one, I need one. This craft of mine won’t do for the trip I need to make. It’s built for one night, one city hunting.”

Abrams, visibly shaken, asked, “What trip?”

The Hunter smiled. “My trip to the Ruins to get Xyn back for you, of course.”

Abrams disconnected from the Hunter’s database. “I’ll get online and get word to my friends. This is serious, Hunter. They’re going there, you brought proof! Somehow they’ve botched the satellite and stolen a supply ship! My God, what if they get another ship down in there? They know WE can’t go in after them, and the legal Unapproveds won’t help us, you know! How in hell did they do it, and what does it mean?”

The Hunter’s face was grim. Even with his Psi off, he knew what Abrams was thinking. Anyone would come to the same conclusion.

“It means Race Wars,” the Hunter said sadly, thinking of little Edward IV and his new family.

His sadness was genuine.

Abrams logged onto the Network. In a few seconds, a vision only he could see was dancing in front of his mind as the scenarios he had thought up were sent out to his superiors, who in turn sent them to their superiors who in turn sent them on. In a matter of minutes, when they had all overheated themselves and some had rebooted, Abrams smiled. Then he grimaced as if in pain.

“So what do we do now?” the Hunter asked. There was a loud chime, and the lights dimmed.

“Your new craft will be here in the morning. In the meantime, I offer you the amenities of the guest suites here,” Abrams replied in a strained voice, “And if you can bring me Xyn alive and undamaged, I’ll trade you anything I’m worth for him. Off the record! Take him to a Dealer you can trust to hold him, but don’t bring him HERE. OFF the record!” Abrams then slid down in his chair, his face sweaty. There was another chime, and the lights brightened. “You may go now, sir. I’m usually worthless for hours after I over-ride security recorders like that.”

With a slow and heavy step, the Hunter left the office. He met a Carebot in the hall and inquired as to where the guest suites were. The robot took him there, and with no show of courtesy, he shut the door in its face. His thoughts were dark as he slid out of his Suit and headed for the shower.

If a Race War came, and many had said that it would long ago, then the Approveds would lose. It didn’t matter what they called themselves - Approveds or Cyborgs. The Unapproveds, or just plain old ordinary people with no Implants who could survive without them, had obviously had enough repression. The Hunter had seen the Old Cities, and he didn’t blame them in the least. He also couldn’t blame the Mutants, Runaway Approved or not, and the Ruins - East and/or West - were perfect staging arenas. Approveds simply couldn’t survive in the Ruins, and not long in the Flats surrounding them. There were far too many Remnants and Leftovers hanging around just waiting to infect someone. Only the various tribes of Unapproveds could survive there, and they were obviously pissed.

As he got into the hot shower and the soothing foam covered his body, the Hunter sighed. He rubbed it into his skin, tingling, being careful of his head and his new and fashionable short crewcut. He knew the foam would strip him of hair, but he liked having hair on his head. He smiled, wondering for some odd reason if Xyn’s hair had grown back yet. Surely it had. Then he wondered why he had thought of it, and remembered all of the pictures that the Network database had generated to help him find the little Bio. He continued to scrub, and as always, he shivered as his hand passed over his smooth and empty groin area.

He gasped. It had been seventeen Cycles past, but he still remembered being told at the age of 14 Cycles that he was going to train for a new career. He still remembered being told that this would require him to be castrated, genitally nullified, and how it had made him feel. He had wanted to run, but after his arrest, he wasn’t dumb enough to do that. He had known then that if he ran, he’d be hunted again and killed when caught. The same line of thinking still applied. It hadn’t worked the first time, and it sure as hell couldn’t work if tried again. He knew that he couldn’t change careers if he wanted to.

That, and at almost 32 Cycles, he was only beginning life as an Approved. In theory, the Nanobots could keep him alive for centuries if he had the right upkeep. He sighed again, scrubbing his crotch harder. If anyone could, HE could afford the upkeep of his new enhanced body. The question was, why would he want to? He rubbed harder, thinking of how he had been able to once take his penis in his adolescent hand and stroke it until it was throbbing and hard. He would lay in bed at night, some lotion on that hand, and think of XX’s and XY’s both of his own age. He would think of how he would have his way with them, how they would have their way with him, all the while stroking his penis and squeezing his testicles. He rubbed at that area now, but there was nothing there to touch.

His body began to tremble a bit as his desires rose. He thought of the ones he caught, how he got such a thrill when he stunned them. He thought of the few times that he had seen a Dealer actually cut an XY, making an e-XY as Dealers called them. He trembled and gasped as he thought of how they had done his own castration, under local painkillers. They had put him to sleep to install his Processor and inject his Nanobots, but for the nullification, he had been wide awake. They had simply numbed the area after strapping him down to an operating table. The shower they had given him had removed all of his hair, which was another shock. A simple device much like a tongue depressor had been stuck down his throat, which he found had paralyzed his vocal chords so that his screams would not upset the medical staff nor disturb their work. He had watched in horror as the nurse slid a length of tubing up and inside of his penis to drain his bladder. The tube looked like metal, but it had been flexible and left in place. Then the doctor had simply gone to work with a lazer scalpel. It had taken only seconds to remove the scrotum and testicles, which were removed separately from his penis.

For an instant, he had thought that they weren’t going to remove his penis after all. He could still hear the doctor saying to someone, “Take these to Cryo, they have a backlog of orders for good young balls. Make sure they zap the Nanobots out first, though.” Then he had watched, silently screaming, his chest heaving, as the doctor took his numbed penis, limp and sad looking, in his hand. “You’ll want to watch this son. I hoped you jacked off and enjoyed it in your room last night, because you’ll never do it again.” And then he had simply moved the lazer around the base, letting it burn down a bit to remove the core as well. His penis slid very slowly down and off of the metal-looking tube and that was the last he had ever seen of it. Mercifully, he had passed out when the nurse had applied the dermal regeneration salves and triggered the Nanobots inside of him for severe bodily trauma protocols.

The next day, he had awakened to find himself wearing the white Suit. He would later learn what it was for, and why he could not take it off without authorization. He could still recall the shock and fear he had felt when he had rubbed at his groin through the fabric of the Suit and felt nothing there. Then he thought of the last orgasm that he had, the night before they had taken him. It had felt so good ... He remembered crying then, even at fourteen Cycles of age, for days.

He had seen it all with his own eyes, and thanks to his memory chips, he could NEVER forget it. Why they had not put him to sleep for the nullification surgery, he didn’t know, and had never asked. He had been told that it was part of the job for which he was to train, as well as because he was a Mutant Unapproved being upgraded. He had been too afraid to question anything, and out of fear of what else they might do to him, he had kept quiet.

He rubbed himself all over, one hand reaching up to pinch his nipples and then move down to run his fingertips gently over his smooth and flat stomach. It gave him the shivers, and he recalled doing this as well, back before they had cut him. He would stroke and stroke and do these other things, until finally he would fire seven or eight jets of thick white semen into his blankets. He was now aflame with desire, fantasizing, his memory chips replaying the castrations and nullifications that he had witnessed. He abused his nipples until they ached, rubbed at his vacant groin until it actually hurt, but he could get no relief from the feelings that drove him. He was filled with high levels of male hormones from the Suit’s medical programming, but as driven as he was, he was helpless to escape. There could be no fulfillment, and even though there was nothing wrong with his prostate, the thought of something invading his ass made him almost ill. This he wrote off to childhood trauma with most of his medications having been administered rectally. That and the enemas, which had seemed to be the cure for anything. They had also given him many enemas before his upgrade, and the trauma of that cleansing session was still with him. He simply could not stand anything near his ass.

Yet as he cursed those who had done this to him, he began to wonder if he could work up the nerve to try it. It had possibilities. He had once fantasized about it, but he had been quite young then. He had heard that an XY could get off from having another XY screw his ass. The Dealers all told him that as well, that the ones who bought the little e-XY’s were going to do that to them, and genitals or not, they would learn to take pleasure in it. But that was another lifetime, and he had never even been with anyone before they had taken him from his parents. There was a voice speaking to him ...

“Shower time expired,” it said, and he realized that he was now drying under warm lamps. He ran his hands over his smooth and hairless body, flexed his large and well-developed muscles, and punched the wall. His snarl of rage would have frightened anyone into flight, but the room was soundproof. His face did not change emotions as he heard and felt the bones in his hand shatter. The pain, however, so great and powerful, flooded through him. He saw sparkles of light before his eyes. He flexed the ruined hand as best he could, and his bladder voided itself, sending a hot stream down the insides of his legs. The shower kicked back on and off when he was clean again, but the pain had done its job - his sexual passions and desires were gone.

He moaned softly, going back to his bed and letting the Suit envelope him again. Within seconds, it had begun to heal his hand and killed the pain. It also sensed his tension levels and stress, and he activated a manual over-ride to release sedatives into his bloodstream. In moments, the Hunter was asleep and dreaming.