“You’re asking me to betray my people.”

  “No, I’m asking you to save what remains of your people. I’m asking you to provide a few more bits and pieces of intelligence so that together with you my people can stop a vicious, useless, endless war.”

  “Not endless—”

  “You know what’s happening is beyond wrong. To steal from another intelligent race even if you were told it would save your own people. To take innocent lives in that pursuit. You knew that price was too high. You’ve always known. You would never have agreed to supply even bits and pieces of intelligence to me otherwise.”

  “Murphy—”

  “I’ve asked you this before. I’m asking again. Would you stop all this if you could, Duran? Stop the abductions, the experiments of your scientists and healers that destroy psychics and turn women they want to breed into mindless baby machines? The torture Sebring and her people use in order to gain information, destroying psychics utterly in the process? If you could, would you stop all that?”

  “I lack the power.”

  “Answer the question. If you could, would you stop it?”

  There was, now, a faintly arrested expression in his eyes. “My superiors are untouchable,” he said slowly.

  “Nobody’s untouchable. And nobody’s asking you to move directly against those above you in the chain of command. It won’t be any action of yours that . . . changes things. You’ll be doing your duty, just as always. Obeying orders out in the field in some operation far away from your superiors as they sit in some boardroom in some high-rise in some anonymous big city. Answer the question, Duran. If you could, would you stop it?”

  “Yes,” he said finally.

  Murphy half nodded, unsurprised. “Because along with everything else, you know it’s over, don’t you? In spite of your protests. You know it was over a long time ago. Whatever your superiors and the remaining first ones believe, there will be no Second Coming. Not of your people. Maybe of your enemy one day, but not of your people. No ship to return in answer to the message I’m sure was sent to them long ago, perhaps every year. Every month. Not even a reply to that message. Year after year. Generation after generation. Only silence. There won’t be a Second Coming. Will there, Duran?”

  “I can’t know that. You can’t know that.”

  “We can both know it. Because those who left the first ones here never came back. Years passed, decades, generations, and they never came back. If there was even a possibility of them returning to reclaim their people and whatever valuable information those people had collected, it would have happened by now. Because the need for information, for knowledge, for weapons, was so great. It was supposed to save your people, Duran. So why were you all stranded here with only exploratory vessels that could never have made the journey back? Why did no one return?”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” It was said rather mechanically.

  “They were supposed to return, weren’t they? Generations ago. Our society was a primitive one then, after all, no challenge for your people. The first ones didn’t expect to be here long. Not long at all. Maybe they even sent a signal explaining that. And then more time passed, and they had to cannibalize their ships for the technology they needed. The technology they didn’t find here. And more time passed. More generations.”

  He looked at her silently.

  Murphy stepped away from the crate she’d been leaning against, and reached her free hand into the big, worn leather bag she always carried. She produced a thick manila envelope, put it on the crate, and pushed it toward him.

  “Some light reading before bedtime,” she said.

  Duran didn’t touch the envelope. “What is it?”

  “A year or so ago, I got in touch with someone. An astrophysicist. Not on our side, but the friend of a friend. Someone I trust. And since he’s one of the most brilliant minds ever produced by humanity, anything he says is worth listening to. Worth considering.

  “I asked him about a situation such as the one facing you and your people. Just theoretically, you understand. A group of beings stranded here so long. So far from home. Brought here by some form of faster-than-light travel, and even then in multi-generational vessels because the journey was so long. I asked him to tell me what he thought of that. What his genius brain and his science told him about that. So he did.” She nodded at the envelope. “That’s a copy of his . . . report. Read it. Think about it.”

  “Murphy—”

  “You might want to keep it someplace safe. At least until you decide what to do with it. And there’s a list inside the envelope too. A few critical questions I need the answers to. And soon, Duran. Very soon. Today, in fact.”

  “I won’t betray my people,” he said.

  “You’re betraying them by believing they have a homeworld to return to.”

  “No.”

  “You have my number,” she said as if he hadn’t spoken. She turned and walked away, leaving the huge defunct warehouse and the man standing silently, staring after her.

  * * *

  • • •

  When Bishop and Miranda arrived at the Mackenzie home and what was becoming the hub of their base, Pendragon was riding comfortably on Bishop’s shoulder.

  And the federal agents, Tucker noted as he let them in, wore expressions that were both thoughtful—and stunned.

  “What’s going on?” he asked as they joined him in the den and command center where they always seemed to gather.

  “Your cat paid us a visit,” Bishop told him.

  “He’s not my cat, he’s Annabel’s cat,” Tucker said more or less automatically. “What, at your hotel?”

  “And our suite. Apparently, he slipped in while the table holding the remains of our lunch was wheeled out.”

  Apparently?

  Tucker blinked. “I’m not exactly telepathic, but I could have sworn he said—”

  “He did,” Miranda said. “We were all very right in believing Pendragon is not an ordinary cat.”

  “I’m not even sure he’s a cat,” Bishop began, then winced and added, “Hey, take it easy,” as he turned his head and stared almost nose to nose with Pendragon.

  Pendragon’s tail lashed, and he said, “Yaaah,” in a tone even humans realized was profane and very catlike, then jumped down from his perch and loped toward the other side of the condo and Annabel’s room.

  “He dug his claws in,” Bishop explained to the others, briefly rubbing his shoulder through the casual dark shirt he was wearing.

  “What do you mean you’re not sure he’s a cat?” Tucker demanded.

  “Long story. He said we’re supposed to wait for—”

  The doorbell rang, and Tucker went with a smothered curse to let in Tasha and Brodie. “I haven’t called you yet,” he told them rather severely. “In fact, I haven’t called any of you.”

  “Were you supposed to?” Bishop asked mildly.

  “I was just about to. Murphy’s on her way, and wanted me to get the rest of you here.”

  Miranda sat down at one end of a long couch and smiled at him. “Well, we’re here, Tucker,” she said as her husband joined her. “And we have more than one thing to report.”

  Tasha and Brodie were already making themselves comfortable on the couch across from the other couple.

  “Is this about Pendragon?” Tasha asked.

  “Beats the hell out of me,” Tucker told her, perching on the wide arm of a chair.

  Miranda looked at Tasha and Brodie with lifted brows. “Did he talk to you too?”

  “We both heard him,” Tasha answered. “It was weird, because even though we didn’t see Pendragon, and even though he didn’t sound at all like I’d expect a cat to sound, we both knew it was him speaking to us. Telepathically.”

  Tucker, whose genius ability to utilize the logical, mathematical side of his brain was matched by an equally genius ability to tap into imagination and creativity on the other side of his brain, didn’t seem the least disbelieving, only curious. “What’d he tell you?”

  Brodie replied, “To come here. He said it was time we knew his story—and that he’d already told it directly to Bishop and Miranda because they’re the only bonded pair among us who’re both telepaths.”

  “I wonder why that matters,” Tasha mused. “Easier to communicate clearly with two strong telepaths?”

  “Could be,” Bishop said.

  Sarah emerged from the hallway leading to the other side of the condo, wearing a slight frown. “Annabel is settled down watching the latest animated classic from Disney. And Pendragon just joined her. I gathered I was supposed to come in here.”

  “He told you, huh?” Tucker said.

  “Yeah. And Annabel said very matter-of-factly that he talked to her just like that.” Still frowning, she added, “She also said everything was about to change.”

  Tucker reached out for his wife’s hand and drew her to sit in the chair where he was perched on the arm. “I thought I was beyond being surprised, but . . . Do we have to wait for Murphy to hear all this? Because I got the impression she was still a half hour or more away.”

  “Pendragon says Murphy knows,” Miranda said simply.

  Bishop murmured, “Secrets on top of secrets on top of secrets. I get the feeling she’s been a step ahead of a lot of us for quite a long time.”

  Brodie scowled. “Dammit.”

  Tasha, smiling faintly, said, “Probably more need-to-know stuff.” Then she turned her attention to the Bishops. “So what is it Pendragon needed all of us to know?”

  The couple exchanged glances, and then Bishop began to speak in a measured tone. “Apparently, psychics weren’t the only ones experimented on by the other side. According to Pendragon, they also tinkered with the biology of a number of animals believed to be intelligent.”

  “I don’t think I want to hear this,” Tasha murmured.

  “We weren’t crazy about it either,” Bishop told her. “But it’s important that we do know.” He barely paused. “Pendragon said they were still interested in psychic abilities, apparently trying to discover, using animal subjects, if there was anything psychic linked to instincts.”

  “That’s reaching,” Tucker said.

  “Leaving no stone unturned seemed to be their mantra. They extracted DNA from a number of species and studied it, even tried to manipulate it at the molecular level. They also attempted to reintroduce the DNA they had tinkered with back into the animals. As you may imagine, most of them either died or had to be destroyed.”

  “I knew I didn’t want to hear this,” Tasha murmured.

  Brodie reached over and took her hand, but addressed himself to Bishop. “Was Pendragon the only exception?”

  “He believes he was the only feline exception, at least where he was being kept. Said the other animals were kept in different labs at the time, labs he believes were eventually abandoned, destroyed, when that line of experimentation ended. And that before that, when he saw his chance to escape, he did.”

  Slowly, Sarah said, “Why turn up in my life?”

  “Well, according to Pendragon, whatever they did to manipulate his genetic code gave him telepathy—and the ability to see the future. And he saw enough of it, he claims, to have known that you, Sarah, and Tucker would play an important part in the—endgame. He knew the same thing about Annabel, which is why he protected her, and why he brought her to you.”

  Brodie said, “Is anybody else’s head spinning, or just mine?”

  * * *

  • • •

  Hello?

  Katie wasn’t a telepath, so she was startled to be pulled from a deep, exhausted sleep by an unsteady voice in her mind. She came awake, blinking, to find that her captors hadn’t turned off the lights this time, or maybe she’d slept through one of the irregular cycles and the lights were back on again—

  Hello? Is anybody there?

  Maybe it was because she was so tired, or maybe something in that frightened mind-voice triggered an ability in her she’d never had before, Katie didn’t know. All she knew was that it felt like instinct to reach out with her own thoughts.

  Hello. Who are you?

  Emma. I—I was afraid nobody would answer. They never do.

  Not psychic, Katie explained.

  They said there was a psychic in the next room, but so far I’ve never been able to reach them.

  Tests. They want to understand how your ability works. Probably have another captive psychic in the next room. Another telepath. Easier for you to communicate to another telepath. I’m Katie, by the way.

  Katie. If they figure out how my ability works, Katie, will they let me go home?

  How long have you been here, Emma? Katie knew she was dodging the question asked.

  I’m not sure. There was a party Sunday night, because a friend’s parents were out of town and . . . and so there was a party. It was really late when I drove home. Started to drive home. It was nearly morning. I . . . I don’t really remember what happened, except that my car went off the road and . . . and . . . it started to get really dark, and cold . . . So I guess I’ve been here since Monday morning.

  Katie wondered if they were even in the same week, the same month, but didn’t ask because that voice was awfully afraid. How old are you, Emma?

  I’m . . . sixteen. My dad’s going to be awfully worried. And my mom. I didn’t know anything bad would happen, Katie. I was just going to a party so I could see Toby . . . and he could see me in real clothes and not the school uniform . . .

  Sixteen? They had grabbed a kid?

  As tired as she was, as fearful, as depressed and worried as she was, it was somehow good to think about what somebody else was going through—and get mad about it. They’d grabbed a kid? Just taken her away from loving parents?

  That was when Katie Swan got mad.

  That was when she got mad as hell.

  * * *

  • • •

  “It makes sense in a twisted way,” Tucker said. “I mean that they’d experiment on animals. Maybe even that they’d want to determine whether various kinds of animal instincts had any tie to psychic ability, though I still say it was reaching.”

  “They can’t possibly have known how successful they were with Pendragon,” Tasha said. “Somehow, he was able to hide that, or their technology failed them—or their psychics did.”

  “That’s true,” Brodie said. “If they’d had an inkling he could communicate as clearly as he can . . . Well, I don’t know what they’d have done with him. Or to him. Because we still don’t know what their ultimate goal is.”

  “Yeah, we pretty much do,” Murphy said, just suddenly there in the living room even though no one had heard her come in. The sudden arrival made Brodie jump in surprise. Which was nearly as rare as hen’s teeth.

  “I see you started without me,” she said mildly.

  “Jesus,” Brodie said. “Either I’m slipping in a major, major way, or you’ve learned to fucking walk through walls.”

  “The latter.” Her tone was rather suspiciously solemn. She didn’t remove either her jacket or the ever-present large bag she wore slung across her thin body. Instead, she simply went into the living area and sank down in the comfortable chair she favored with a sigh. She looked both tired and curiously alert as she glanced around the room. “Coffee ready?”

  “Couple minutes,” Sarah said. “I stopped at the kitchen and put on a pot.”

  “We didn’t start without you,” Brodie told Murphy. “Except about Pendragon. Which apparently you already knew.”

  “That he was part of a . . . different avenue of exploration in their eugenics program?” Murphy nodded, clearly not at all dismayed by Brodie’s irritation. “Yeah, I knew. The boss has another cat who escaped the program, apparently from a different lab. Not telepathic or precognitive like Pendragon, but amazingly empathic.”

  “How long have you known about this?” Brodie demanded.

  Murphy lifted both brows at him silently.

  He swore mostly under his breath. “A lot longer than I needed to know, obviously.”

  “Decision made at the top,” Murphy said, still mild. “Other than the boss, I can’t tell you who else knows, though I’m sure some do. At least a few specialized researchers pretty much have to know as much as me and probably a hell of a lot more. We’ve been putting together a puzzle for years, still are, and there are some pieces I don’t know if we’ll ever be sure of.”

  “Psychic animals?” Tucker said. “What use could they hope to make of psychic animals?”

  Murphy waited until Sarah returned to hand her a cup of coffee, nodded her thanks, then said matter-of-factly, “Some of them still believed if they mixed just the right molecules or, hell, maybe just atoms, in a petri dish, they’d come up with something that would make their own people psychic.”

  “That’s been their endgame?” Brodie asked. “All this time it’s been about finding some way to turn nonpsychic people into psychics?”

  “That and how to use psychic abilities as weapons.”

  Bishop said, “That’s a road to hell.”

  Murphy nodded. “Yeah, we get enough fear and anxiety from some nonpsychics now about what we can do. Being able to use our abilities as powerful weapons would not exactly be the icing on the cake.”

  “But animal DNA?” Tucker demanded skeptically.

  “They’ve tried everything. Every combination you could imagine and quite a few that would never occur to a sane mind.” She shook her head slightly. “Amazing how an utter commitment to a goal can create tunnel vision.”

  “But what did they create in Pendragon?” Tasha asked.

  “Something a hell of a lot more than a cat, that’s for sure. And here’s the kicker, at least for me. Sarah might feel it stronger than I do, but I’m reasonably sure Pendragon is bonded with Annabel.”