As Dev hung up, he felt the same. Turning, he found Katya looking at him. She took off the wireless headphones only when he slid the phone into a pocket. “I want so much to ask what’s put that look on your face,” she said, reaching out to place one hand over his.
“Katya, there’s a chance we might have to turn back.” He tightened his fingers on hers. “But if we do, I’ll bring you back. I promise you that.”
And though he knew how badly she wanted to reach her destination, she gave an immediate nod. “Your promise is more than enough for me.”
His heart expanded, until he couldn’t even remember what the metal felt like. “How secure is your mind?”
“It’s a vault. Nothing can come in or get out into the Net. But like you said, Ming must have the psychic key to open that vault—he could use it at any time.”
He understood what she was telling him, but the possible benefits outweighed the risks in this case. About to ask her what he needed to know, he frowned. “You have a nosebleed.”
Making a small sound, she lifted a hand to her nose, taking the tissue he ripped from the pack provided in the seat pockets. “It’s the altitude,” she said.
He wasn’t so sure. “How’s your head?”
“Fine.” Slipping the tissue into the disposal bag, she made a face at him. “I’ve never been a good flier. What was your question?”
Still not convinced, he made a mental note to have Glen check her out on their return. “What do you know about the genesis of Silence?”
“Aside from what’s in the public domain, I know that it’s not as effective as the Council likes to make out—the anchors, the strong Psy the Net needs to maintain itself—they’re extremely vulnerable to sociopathy.”
Dev had guessed as much. “But it is effective at a certain level?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “You know there are abilities that predispose the individual to mental illness—or ones that drive them toward such illnesses because of what they demand.”
“Go on.”
“For example, some high-Gradient telepaths have trouble building shields—it’s as if their abilities are too strong to contain and the power leaks out. With Silence, at least they have an effective barrier of emotionlessness—even if things creep in, those things don’t affect them as deeply.”
Dev considered that. “Justice Psy—they have a rep.”
“Yes. Because the J-Psy work so closely with humans, they’re more prone to breaks from Silence.”
And when Justice Psy broke, some very nasty people had a way of ending up dead. Dev didn’t necessarily think that was a bad thing, but if the highly trained J-Psy weren’t able to control their abilities, how could he expect it of a scared seven-year-old? “Is that why the Js always take breaks between cases?”
Katya nodded. “From what I know, they generally work about a month, then go back in for intensive reconditioning before being given their next case.” Her eyes lingered on his. “We all came from the same stock,” she murmured. “It’s inevitable that even in a mixed-race population, mutations and recombination in the gene pool would produce an individual closer to Psy than to human.”
He’d known she would understand—she was too smart not to. “Pretty sure the Council’s figured that out, too.”
“It’s a possibility. But there is a certain arrogance among the higher levels of the Council superstructure—the Psy have become so used to thinking themselves the most powerful people on the planet that they fail to take something as simple, and as powerful, as nature into account.” This time, her eyes were troubled. “Dev, if your people are considering what I believe—don’t.”
“You just told me that for some gifts, it’s the only choice.”
Her hand tightened around his. “But it kills something in the individual and in the group. The PsyNet . . . it’s beautiful, but it’s dying, bit by slow bit. How could it not? We give it nothing but emptiness.”
Dev understood her speaking of the Net as a living presence. The ShadowNet, too, had an entity of sorts that was its soul, its living imprint, though it was far, far younger than its counterpart in the PsyNet. “I’ve heard whispers of the NetMind.”
“There’s a DarkMind, too.” Her voice was hollow. “Ming told me—I guess he thought I wouldn’t remember, or he didn’t care. The NetMind has split in two.”
She didn’t have to say any more—if the fabric of the Net itself was being torn asunder, then how could Silence possibly be the answer? And yet . . . “There are still killers in the Net, but there are fewer.”
“Yes.” She swallowed. “I think, for a while, it did make things truly better. We were able to breathe without fear of what we might do, what might be done to us. But that soon became replaced with another kind of fear.”
“The Council.” Dev thought over the implications. “That kind of a power structure is unavoidable once you embrace Silence—it rewards the naturally emotionless, people who have little to no empathy.” The sociopaths.
“It’s a flaw in the system that we’ve become blind to.” Katya leaned her head against his shoulder. “What will you do?”
“Fight for my people.”
PETROKOV FAMILY ARCHIVES