Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Junior Psychonaut Razputin Aquato spun in Sasha Nein’s office chair, tapping the enter key on the agent’s computer with each revolution. Sasha was on his couch, surrounded by reams of perforated printer paper. He skimmed each page, tapping the eraser of a red pencil off his shoulder, only pausing to periodically circle something on a sheet, rip it free of its neighbors, and tack it to the wall with a flying thumbtack. Raz completed another spin just as the printer finished its job. He hit the ‘enter’ button on his next revolution and started it again. “Not to interrupt, Agent Nein, but remind me again what you’re looking for?”

Sasha circled another item and stuck it to the wall. “Agent Cruller reported strange activity in a number of foreign bank accounts. He asked me to confirm and, as we are low on assignments currently, I agreed to look into it.”

Raz raised an eyebrow. “Foreign bank accounts?”

“Any psychic criminal worth attention knows to cover his tracks, but a modern business still runs on common currency, no matter how nefarious. If a criminal can’t resort to bartering gold bars, then funds are transferred from accounts. And accounts have records.”

“But...” Raz used the spin to survey the tall, accordion-like stacks of punched paper waiting to be examined. “There’s a lot.”

“And I’m sure Hollis will have words to say about it when she returns from vacation, but until then…”

“Senior Agents to the Nerve Center,” the voice of the Grand Head barked through the overhead PA system. “All senior staff, report to the nerve center.”

“Sounds like Truman might have words right now.” Raz snickered.

Sasha untangled himself from the paper trail and headed toward the door. “I suppose we’ll find out.”

“Want me to keep printing?”

Sasha paused on the threshold. “Actually, why don’t you tag along? Could be educational.”

Raz jolted with sudden thrill, but did his best to stay casual. “He called for senior agents.”

“You’re my assistant today, Razputin.” He cut half a grin. “You can take notes if you want.”

“Yes, sir!” Raz swept a yellow legal pad off the cluttered desk and bounded after, leaving the chair spinning as he rushed to catch up.

The Motherlobe was business as usual outside. Agents floated from department to department, chatting both aloud and telepathically. Psychonauts headquarters was much bigger than Raz’s first impression of it. In addition to the main floor, lobby area, and satellite buildings in the canyon, there were extensive basements below and off-site housing and manufacturing further up the road. Even Whispering Rock was part of the ecosystem with the Nerve Center at the heart – or brain – of the whole enterprise.

Raz walked a pace behind Sasha down the ramp to the nerve center entrance. The Thinkerprint scanner surveyed both of them as they approached and opened the first of the series of security doors. Sasha stepped in, but Raz was snatched by his ankles and thrown into the landscaping. “Oof!”

“Gotcha!” Lili laughed.

Raz straightened his goggles as he pried himself out of a brain-shaped bush. “Hi, Lili.”

“You gotta learn to watch your back if you’re gonna be a Psychonaut,” Lili said.

“I already am a Psychonaut!”

“Not enough of one to go this meeting,” Lili lilted.

“I'm acting as secretary... oh no!” Raz searched the mulch for the legal pad. "You can't tell me you're not curious, too."

"Why would I be? It's probably about paperwork or employee benefits."

"Not at a super special Senior Agent meeting." Raz emerged from the dirt with a wad of crumpled paper and jogged toward the nerve center door. "See ya, Lili!"

"Don't get your hopes up!" Lili called. “I don’t think Dad’s going to let a junior agent into a senior meeting!”

“I’ll tell you how it goes!”

“Don’t bother!”

The Motherlobe’s center of operations was a hive of floating screens and flashing computer stations. Agents sifted through reams of international data, sorting evidence of psychic terrorists, troubling events, and news reports. Grand head Truman Zanotto hovered amid the rotating screens and floating agents, overseeing a table-sized read-out station with a steely expression.

Sasha stood with his partner, Milla Vodello, near the door. The Mental Minx smiled sweetly as Raz entered. “Agent Aquato! What a surprise!”

“Sasha said I could assist! Did Grand Head Zanotto say what this is about?”

“He won’t speak a word until all senior staff are present.” Milla’s brow furrowed. “I’m concerned it has something to do with the great uneasiness I’ve been sensing since this morning.”

Sasha set his jaw. “Have you identified the source?”

She shook her head. “It’s too unfocused, or too large.”

“All right, what’s with the rush?” Coach Oleander barked. The short man was dressed in camouflage. He marched into the nerve center with a hooded falcon perched on one arm. “I was in the middle of some very important research.”

“Falconry… research?” Raz asked, hopeful.

Oleander scoffed. “I’ll have you know this bird is a scientist.”

“That falcon thinks you are a tree,” Agent Compton Boole said. The former Grand Head was followed by his fellow founding agent, Otto Mentallis, his former co-agent Bob Zanotto, and a brain in a ball named Helmut Fullbear.

The brain beamed his words directly into everyone’s heads. Raz could tell he was smiling by the tone. ”Hey, kid! How’s it hangin’?”

“Hey, Psi-King,” Raz said. “How’s progress on finding your body?”

“Not much yet. Otto’s still working on a device to undo his other device.”

“It’s only taken him twenty years.” Bob grumbled.

Otto adjusted his glasses. “Forgive me if I gave up freeze ray development after my prototype all but killed one of us.”

“Enough pleasantries,” Truman said from above. The drone agents floating about the readout consoles scattered as he descended to the head of the table. Raz caught the vibe as he fell under the grand head’s narrowing eyes. Truman’s brow leveled. “I said senior staff only.”

“I said he could come,” Sasha said. “Of course if this is top secret...”

“It is.”

“I just came to take notes!” Raz waved the notepad like a peace offering. “I’ll be quiet! I - I can make everyone copies!”

“No.” Truman said. “Out of the question.”

“C’mon, Tru, let the kid stay,” Helmut appealed. ”I think we can all vouch for him.”

“Not this time.” He planted his hands on the tabletop, “We have a Hornblower problem.”

Otto scoffed. “Surely not!”

“Who’s Hornblower?” Raz asked. “A psychic spy ? A mental terrorist?”

“A top secret briefing,” Truman reiterated. “Not for Junior Agents. Everyone else to my office. We’re wasting time.”

“Apologies, Razputin,” Sasha said. “I know I got your hopes up, but if the mission is as important as it sounds, then it wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“But Sasha – !”

“There’s no point in arguing,” he said. “I’ll see you in my lab later.”

“Aw!” Raz groaned. He tucked the yellow legal pad under his arm and sulked through the sliding doors back to the atrium where his fellow unprivileged agents conducted business unaware of the super cool top-secret stuff was going down mere feet away.

A dirt clod bounced off the back of Raz’s head. He turned to see Lili leaning on the wall with her arms crossed and eyes half-lidded. She nodded like a drug dealer finding a mark. “What happened to your meeting?”

“Sasha totally flipped on me!” Raz whined. “How am I supposed to get above Junior Agent if they don’t trust me to know anything!”

“Why do you want to sit through a boring meeting anyway?”

“Because it’s senior staff only!” Raz cried. “This is where the big world-saving stuff happens. True Psychic Tales worthy stuff! The big time!”

“Okay, okay. If you gush anymore I’ll puke.” Lili’s mouth twitched in a barely perceptible smile. “Wanna sneak in?”

“Really?” Raz gaped, the deflated. “They’re upstairs in your dad’s office”

She flipped her pigtail over her shoulder. “Watch. And. Learn.”

Chapter Text

Harold didn’t run as fast or jump as high as he had as a young rodent. Years of snacking in a submarine can do that to you. But being stranded in the Rhombus of Ruin didn’t take away Harold’s rat instincts. He had a confounding knack of always being exactly where he needed to be whenever he needed to be there. In this case, it meant he was sunbathing in Lili’s garden in the quarry outside HQ.

Lili smiled and jogged to the pudgy rodent. “Harold! There you are!”

Harold nodded to her from his repose atop a tiny lawn chair. Chhht

“I hate to interrupt your ‘me time,’ but Raz and I need your help,” Lili said. She was as sweet as she ever got when talking to plants or animals… and sometimes Raz, but not often Raz. He hopped up the last bit of climbing vine to join his girlfriend in a patch of sunlight. Lili bent the bendy end of Harold’s swizzle straw toward him and let the rat take a long drag of lemonade before continuing. “Raz and I need to do some top-secret spy stuff. Would you be our man in the field?”

Harold chittered his reply. Raz wished he was a Zoolinguistic. He wasn’t sure if Lili was, but she took the sniffs as an agreement either way.

“Excellent! Would you let us tag along?”

Harold chittered again. He set aside his tanning reflector, took another sip of lemonade and rose onto his back legs in a beckoning gesture.

Raz snapped his goggles into place over his eyes and focused his power of clairvoyance on Harold. The world fell from around him a moment as his psyche fled his body and took a seat within Harold’s head.

The rat’s eyes became his eyes. The ears became his ears. The twitchy little nose illuminated every edible root, nut, and berry in Lili’s garden. He couldn’t read Harold’s thoughts – that was at least two additional psychic powers and probably one affinity – but he got a picture of what life was like at rat-level, and a projection of Harold’s perspective. Mostly he saw Raz and Lili as odd, bipedal rats.

“Okay, Harold,” Lili said both physically and telepathically. She was sitting in Harold’s brain just like Raz was. The effect of her thoughts in Harold’s brain, her words in Harold’s ears, and her words in Raz’s ears created a really upsetting echo. He watched himself cringe through Harold’s eyes. Lili saw it, too, because she reached her human arm out and slugged Raz in the shoulder as she continued. ”Dad’s having a secret meeting in his office upstairs. Can you climb through the walls and listen in on what he’s telling the others about? It’s really important.”

Harold nodded his head, bobbing the world up and down in the process, and scampered into the bushes.

Raz kept his focus on the rodent as Harold wove through the foliage. Before Raz really knew what path he’d taken, Harold was back in HQ, squeezing beneath floorboards and into vent covers. He wriggled through gaps in structure and infrastructure through cracks his girth should have probably kept him out of until he was crawling up the wall between Truman’s office and the conference room.

“Wait, we’re already here?” Raz thought aloud. ”It was that easy?”

”Easy?” Lili scoffed in his head. ”Harold’s a Psychonaut! Not just anyone can do it.”

Harold snorted in agreement.

Raz cringed. ”Sorry.”

Harold ascended another layer of ductwork into the ceiling and descended again into another gap and finally emerged into the Top Secret Senior Staff Meeting

Sasha, Milla, Oleander, Compton, Bob, Otto, and Helmut’s brain ball were seated in office chairs around a conference table. Truman stood before them, the red tie his daughter Lili gave him as a “welcome back to your cranium” present peeking from beneath his long, curly beard. He clicked a handheld button to advance through slides on an overhead projector where Oleander’s falcon was currently roosting. Its tail feathers obscured a corner of the new slide where the words “MIND BOMB” were written in scarequotes.

“A mind bomb!” Raz thought, awestruck.

Lili matched his enthusiasm. “You mean like TPT 48? The Great Mind Wipe of Professor Storch?”

“It has to be! But I don’t remember a Hornblower in that issue.”

“A horn blower?” Lili asked. “Why do you care about a horn blower?”

“Truman mentioned someone named Hornblower.”

“Dumb name.’

“It’s probably code.” Raz hushed her. “Look at the screen!”

Truman’s slide advanced to a mugshot of a broad-shouldered man with a hunched stance and shaggy mutton chops. His arms were thick and curled so tight with muscles it looked like his prison uniform was about to burst off. The label on the snapshot read Grinsmith Forrut Horatio and the prison number was followed by unfamiliar symbols.

Raz squinted. “Is that Elvish?”

“Mongolian,” Lili answered.

“Horatio escaped our international high-security compound this morning at two o’clock Krasnoyarsk Time,” Truman said. “Local governments are on alert, but he is already out of the Psilirium dampening zone. We have reason to believe he’s headed west.”

“And you’re sure that it’s him?” Otto said. “His sentence was eighty years’ hard labor.”

“That’s barbaric!” Milla cried.

“He shouldn’t have gotten himself arrested in Siberia,” Otto said.

“He mind-wiped eight hundred people,” Compton said, sadly. “We were only able to restore functionality to half of them. Hard labor is severe but he committed a grievous crime.”

Truman snapped his hand button and moved the slide to an image of Codename: Hornblower’s Psychonaut arrest record. “Horatio is a highly volatile individual. He has struggled with deep-seeded psychopathy since youth and an unchecked narcissism that has only been encouraged through childhood. This led him to groups like The Mentalists and the New Thinkers.”

“Blah, politics?” Oleander scoffed. “I thought he was in jail for mind-wiping people.”

“The Mentalists and New Thinkers are officially categorized as terrorist groups,” Sasha said. “They believe in Psychic superiority.”

“He developed a psychic technique he called ‘Mind Bomb’ that could separate the tether between the mind and body,” Otto said. “As exemplified by our friend Helmut, here, the human mind and body are connected by more than just meat. Non-Psychics have a weaker connection – most can’t survive a separation for more than a couple minutes. A notable example was our friend Gristol Malik who required a … er… surrogate body to keep his awareness active while his brain was removed.”

Truman cleared his throat and kept the conversation on track by advancing the slide again. “His theory was that the Psychics would be able to use their abilities to pull their minds and bodies back together, but Non-Psychics would not. He intended to separate the sheep and the goats as they say.”

“Lemme guess,” Oleander said, “the plan failed.”

“No, it worked perfectly,” Truman said, advancing the slides. “He released his Mind Bomb in a remote Siberian town called Kholodnyy. The blast severed the mind/body tether of everyone there. We know for certain there were at least five Psychics in that town, including one of our remote agents. She was able to pull herself together fast enough to identify him as the culprit.”

The slide transitioned to the photo of a sweet looking old woman in a massive furry hat. Raz didn’t recognize her at first, but the ring she wore on her finger meant she was likely Agent Bidel Nost from True Psychic Tales #144. She was a lot younger in the comic, but it said in her bio on the inside-back cover that she had retired to a Siberian town. Was that how Horatio found her? Did he target her home knowing there was a powerful Psychic living there? Raz grit his teeth. Harold chittered and drew his attention back to the conversation.

The slide had advanced to the image of a maximum security prison with layers of perimeter wall built high with brick and festooned with coils of barbed wire. Truman was summing up a marked list of security features including a Psilerium barrier marked by a large orange bubble.

Bob grunted. “How’d he escape? We build places like that to keep dangerous Psychics inside them. Was this Psychonauts oversight?”

“It was a Soviet facility, but our security system, yes,” Truman said.

“Were there no guards?” Bob persisted.

Truman advanced several slides showing the inside of the prison. Dead guards and inmates lined the walls. The Psilirium generator was broken. The front doors were wide open and several vehicles were missing from the carpark. Finally, the projector turned to the image of a city street littered end to end in fallen bodies. The room went stone silent. Raz’s chest clenched so hard, he almost lost the connection to Harold, his head filling instead with war, and drowning, and lice...

Lili’s hand found his hand in real life. He gripped it.

“Should we stop?” She thought to him.

“No, we gotta know more,” Raz replied. ”I’m sure your Dad has a plan.”

“The image you’re seeing here is Fanrong, China,” Truman said. “It was taken four hours after the escape.”

“How many people?” Milla asked.

“Over one-hundred thousand.”

“One-hundred thousand!” Compton muttered.

“It must have been the whole city,” Otto said as if the image before him were a math problem he needed to solve. “This would be all over international news otherwise.”

“Yes. And neither the Chinese nor the Soviets want news of it getting out, either. Bad for their image,” Truman said. “Thankfully that means we are the lead organization on this project and to a small degree, ensures their cooperation. China has already set perimeters around the city. People on the outskirts are in protective custody and everyone calling in or out have been told there is a power outage.”

“All this because of one guy?” Oleander asked.

“Yes,” Truman switched slides again, revealing security camera photos of Horatio, somehow more hulking than his mug shot with a wild beard and the upper-half of a prison jumpsuit tied around his waist. He was accompanied by two dozen other inmates wearing the same jumpsuits and toting shovels and pickaxes. “The escape happened during a routine Psilirium refueling procedure. In order to keep the barrier up and running, the stock of Psilirium needs to be replaced every five years. The projector is shut down, the core is replaced, and the system is booted back up. Horatio launched a Mind Bomb during the bootup, freed the inmates and used them to dig his way out of the compound.”

“How is that possible?” Sasha asked. “With Psilirium poisoning, his psychic powers would still be repressed.”

“Horatio’s natural psychic affinity is Geomastery,” Truman said by way of explanation. “Geomastery is considered a minor affinity in most. Often Geomasters go undetected in general society. He is able to sense space, distance, and volume at a glance. He used this to multiply the effects of this bomb to devastating size. While in prison, he was prevented from practicing the Mind Bomb as he’d originally crafted it. He had to… adapt.”

Truman switched the slide to a medical diagram of a man’s head and brain.

“While Horatio’s Geomastery was a psychic trait, his grasp of mathematics was a learned skill. He mastered the Mind Bomb on paper. And once he’d perfected his theorem, implanted it into the unconscious minds of his fellow inmates using suggestive hypnosis over half a dozen years. Horatio was the one who triggered the Mind Bomb at the prison, he was not the one who generated it. He used his fellow inmates.”

“He detonated… people?” Compton asked.

“Worse. Psychics,” Truman continued. “Those who, if he were sane, should be protected by his philosophy. This isn’t about who deserves to live anymore. Horatio is weeding the garden. He’s killing as many Non-Psychics as he can and he doesn’t care about preserving his own kind to do it.”

“How many Psychic prisoners were on site?” Otto asked.

“Forty-five.”

“How many did he detonate?”

“One in the prison, and a second in the city.”

“Only one Psychic was used in Fanrong City?” Sasha asked. “Generating an explosion of mental energy that size would shred the mind of a healthy Psychic beyond repair. The prisoner would have been killed instantly.”

“Even worse. The man was decapitated.”

Truman turned the slide. Raz shielded his face in real life, but it did nothing for his mind’s eye. Thankfully even Harold found the slide too galling to look at.

“How’d he trigger it without psychic powers?” Oleander asked.

“It’s old-fashioned hypnotic conditioning,” Otto answered. “He could have triggered it with a word or a symbol. Even a smell. And without worrying about the fate of the prisoner, he didn’t even need his detonator’s cooperation. They may not even know what they are.”

“Were all of the forty-five escaped prisoners given this conditioning?” Compton asked.

“Unsure, but we have to assume they were,” Truman said.

“So there are dozens of walking time bombs out there capable of killing whole cities. Triggered by a signal no one survived to know,” Oleander said. “So why are we just sitting here? We gotta catch this guy before he detonates again!”

Sasha pondered the question. “With residual Psilirium poisoning, Horatio would not have survived the blast at Fanrong. It’s likely he was far from the detonation site when the bomb went off. We know his gang are headed south. There’s only so far men can travel by motor vehicle in that area. They have to be on the Asian continent.”

“That narrows the field, at least.” Milla’s voice was troubled. Her eyes flit near imperceptibly to Sasha who canted his head a fraction. Raz hoped they were thinking something encouraging to each other.

“What of those who have already fallen victim to this?” Compton spoke in a trembling tone. “The hundred-thousand people? Can anything be done for them?”

“That’s where you come in,” Truman said, sounding a little more ‘Grand Head’ than he did before. “You all are my top agents. All previous assignments are suspended, I need all hands on deck for this one. I’m sending everyone in this room to Fanrong for recon.”

”Uh, hand raise?” Helmut thought. “Some of us don’t have bodies.”

“And some of us aren’t agents,” Bob added with a bitter snort.

“But some of you were and some of you can be again.” Truman fixed his uncle with a long look, one that addressed the tension and forced through it on sheer momentum. “As the Psychic Six… Seven… You have unparalleled experience in the field of deep mental exploration. Many of the victims are still alive and recoverable through mental reconstruction. I want you to save as many as we can.”

“Of course!” Compton regarded Otto, Bob, and Helmut’s floating brain, gaining confidence with each glance. “Whatever we can do, we will do it.”

“Thank you.” Truman relaxed a fraction. “Agent Mentallis will take lead. Establish a base camp and oversee progress on all sub-projects. You'll have to coordinate with local authorities in order to use their resources and facilities. I trust you can handle that."

Otto adjusted his glasses. “Fine.”

“Agent Boole will be in charge of the Psychic portion. The blast separated the tether between brain and body, for Non-Psychics that means coma or death, but for latent Psychics – those with a strong tether and no training – that means unfettered ability. The People’s Republic Agents have reported instances of astral projection, body-jacking, eruptions of Pyrokinesis, Telekenesis, and Geokinesis among other disciplines. I’m putting Compon in charge of subduing the minds and returning them to their bodies.”

“I will enlist Cassie’s help,” Compton said. “We will do our best.”

“And me and Helmut?” Bob asked.

“You two are in charge of the Non-Psychic mental reconstruction project.” Truman managed half a smile. “Helmut knows what it’s like to wake up out of nothing. It may be the difference between life and death for these victims.”

Helmut bobbed in his cerebral juices. “Sweet,”

“Yeah, yeah, but what about Horatio?” Oleander asked. “We can’t just sit around a ruined city while he and his bomb army are out there somewhere. He’s gotta be baked half to death by Psilirium at this point, I doubt he got far, we can still catch him!”

“I agree,” Truman said. “That’s why you, Milla, and Sasha are on offense. Milla will search the cognitive landscape, you and Sasha are in charge of the physical. We need to find Horatio and stop him before he launches any additional attacks.”

“Nice!” Oleander grit his teeth. “I always preferred a direct assault.”

Milla crossed her arms. “This is not a carpet bombing, Morceau. We need to locate Horatio and apprehend him. We cannot get inside his mind if he is in tiny pieces.”

“Ah, whatever, all we need is the brain,” Oleander snorted. “Otto can put it in a jar and we’ll figure things out from there.”

“You know as well as anyone that preserving his brain only works if his body is still alive,” Sasha said with a touch of the irritant that always cropped up when he talked to the coach. “The Mind Bomb breaks the tether between Mind and Body. One cannot exist without the other. We will run into the same issue if Horatio’s body or mind are eliminated. A certain amount of information can be drawn from an inert brain, but not the details we need. Not the trigger that changes a convict into an explosive.”

Oleander rolled his eyes. “Fine. Geez.”

“You all have your assignments,” Truman said. “Planes leave in two hours. Recruit any other staff you need.”

“I want Agent Nerumen.” Otto said.

Milla spun her chair toward him. “Gisu’s only a junior agent. Do you really think that would be appropriate?”

“I want her,” Otto said. “The Netavidad sisters as well. They’re strong elemental Psychics, they can help with the cleanup on the surface.”

“But the casualties…” Milla shook her head. “They’re too young.”

“They’re Psychonauts,” Otto said.

“If he gets them, I want Martinez,” Helmut added.

“No. No Junior Agents in the mental world,” Truman said. “And no Junior Agents around piles of dead bodies. Milla’s right, I’m not putting their minds at risk, and I’m not traumatizing them earlier than I have to.”

“How many adult agents are you allocating?” Compton asked.

“All available, although I’m keeping the name and nature of the target top secret,” Truman said. “Only those in this room know of Horatio’s involvement, the rest are told the culprit is classified. In all official capacities from now on, we refer to our target by his codename of Hornblower. If he is returning to The Mentalists, they’ll have ears to the ground. I don’t want him catching wind of us and detonating another bomb.”

“Gotcha.” Oleander gave two thumbs up.

“Good,” Truman said and clicked off the projector. “If everyone has their instructions, we have no time to waste. Horatio will likely need a safehouse to wait the Psilirium poisoning out. Once he’s back up to full strength, he’ll be able to sojourn anywhere on the astral plane and detonate his bombs wherever in the world they wander. He could actually get his wish – a world occupied only by Psychics, and the deaths of billions of innocent people. Let’s find him before that happens.”

“To work, everyone,” Otto said, rising. “Time to save the world again.”

Harold chittered as the Psychonauts rose from their seats. Lily released Raz’s hand and thought to him. ”We should go.”

”No wait.” Raz thought. Truman was staring across the table at Sasha and Milla with an intense look that betrayed mental communication. Raz focused in tight, but the exchange was over before he could hear it. Sasha and Milla waited for the other agents to leave before joining Truman at the front of the room.

Raz nudged Harold mentally ”Can you get closer?”

Harold chittered in reply. He hopped along the cabinets at the top of the room and hovered over the Grand Head and his superstar agents. Truman lowered his voice. “I have a job.”

“Top secret within top secret?” Sasha asked.

“It requires a certain finesse.” Truman replied. “I am aware that we are getting a late start on this. We need a backup plan for when Horatio’s Psilirium poisoning wears off. Before Hornblower was a terrorist, he had a profitable career as a Psychic duelist in the underground fighting scene. He was historically hard to beat.”

“What discipline did he use?” Sasha asked.

“Weaponkinesis.”

“Weaponkinesis,” Milla repeated. “I’ve not heard of this.”

“I have,” Sasha said. “Sparingly. I’ve read about it.”

“Then you know how exclusive a discipline it is,” Truman said. “Those who train in it usually maim themselves in the process.”

“How gruesome,” Milla said.

“It consists of multiple weapons – usually edged weapons – manipulated by Telekinesis,” Sasha explained. “The weapons are kept constantly in orbit around the duelist, shifting position to strike or defend. It is a flurry of flying knives that keeps the opponent at arm’s length and death close at hand.”

“Hence the maiming,” Milla concluded.

“It is also a mathematically heavy discipline,” Truman added. “And so Hornblower was naturally inclined toward it. Weaponkinesis is governed by strict rules that require a lot of focus and concentration. Duels between Weaponkinetics are seen as a religious ritual by the monks of the Lowha Lasung Monastery, which happens to be the order that trained our perp.”

“Would they be behind these attacks?” Sasha asked.

“Doesn’t seem so. They’re passivists.”

Sasha crossed his arms. “Then I’m not following your thought process.”

“Hornblower has been subdued by Psilirium exposure for a long time,” Truman said. “Everyone here knows what it’s like to suffer from that.”

“Unfortunately,” Milla agreed.

“When in the throes of the delirium, sufferers hyperfocus on elements of their psyche that their conscious mind is inclined toward,” Truman said. “I considered tapping into his Geomastery, but I doubt we’d get him to drop everything and take a pop quiz.”

“You said this technique was rule heavy,” Sasha said. “Would engaging him in this discipline hold his attention long enough for our agents to infiltrate his mindscape and root out the triggers for the bombs?”

“If we can find a duelist capable of meeting him one on one,” Truman agreed. “Unfortunately we don’t have anyone on staff with experience using Weaponkinesis. Like I said, it’s rare.”

“So we conscript a duelist,” Sasha decided.

Truman handed him a folder. “As part of your search, I’m sending you two to the Lowha Lasung monastery in the Himalayas to recruit someone who may be willing to duel with him. It’ll be a hard sell. Like I said, they’re pacifists. But perhaps if we explain that the goal is preservation of life, they’ll agree to fight on our behalf.”

Sasha nodded. “I’ll crate up the Kingfisher.”

“Why not the Pelican?” Oleander asked.

The three turned. The coach stood on the threshold with his hands on his hips.

He pointed at the ceiling. “Forgot my bird.”

The falcon chirped an irritated “Caw!” and swooped down to land on his arm.

“I heard the whole thing, by the way,” Oleander said. “A secret top-secret mission to recruit a deadly warrior? Sounds like a good time to me.”

“Morry, I don’t know…” Milla started.

“What happened to Time is of the Essence?” Oleander said. “This is a walk and talk, it’ll be fine.”

Truman slouched. “Fine.”

“Yes!” Oleander pumped a fist. “I’ll pack my bag. What’s the weather like at this monastery?”

“It’s on the top of a Himalayan mountain so… pack a sweater.”

Oleander marched off, bird in hand. Milla followed with a sigh. It was Sasha’s turn to hang back. He thumbed through the folder and waited for Truman’s attention. The Grand Head waited in the doorway. “Something else?”

“I’d like to bring Razputin if I may.”

Raz’s stomach leaped on an adrenaline springboard, but he focused on Harold to keep from losing the connection.

“I said no Junior Agents."

“I won’t involve him in any conflict with Hornblower. If this is a walk and talk mission in a pacifist monastery, it shouldn't be difficult. The most we have to worry about is Morry.”

Truman snorted. “You’ve taken a shine to him, haven’t you?”

“He reminds me of myself.”

“I don’t need to be a Psychic to see that,” Truman said. “What’s the draw? Psi-blast affinity?”

“He’s a bit of a generalist at the moment,” Sasha said. “His natural inclination is unrecorded, but if I don’t miss my guess, I think he’s a Telepath.”

“A Telepath? Really? What led you to that?”

“Mind reading is one of the first skills he mastered without instruction,” Sasha said. “Not to mention Telepathy and Astral Projection often go hand in hand. No one can deny his skill as a mindwalker. He navigates the mental world better than many of our fully-trained agents, and has done so since his first foray. If he is willing to learn, I’m certain Agent Aquato will grow into one of the Psychonauts’ most powerful Mental Navigators. Perhaps even the best.”

“Better than you?”

“Indeed. With training.”

Raz’s heart swelled so big he thought he might choke on it. Sasha Nein, his childhood hero, told the Grand Head of the Psychonauts that he, Raz, was a potential superstar. Pride flushed his face so warm he was concerned it was Pyrokinesis kicking in. Lili slugged him in the arm. Raz almost forgot she was in there listening with him. Harold snorted as if he disagreed.

“Alright, I’ll allow it,” Truman said. “Raz is clever, but he’s cocky. He needs to see aspects of this job he hasn’t read about in comic books. Just keep him out of harm’s way.”

“I will.” Sasha tapped the folder. “Let me brief Razputin. Assuming all is well. We’ll disembark as soon as possible. Tell Morry to leave the bird.”

“Of course you’d stick me with that job.”

Raz watched Sasha reach the door and was jerked out of his Clairvoyant trance by a slap to the face.

“Ow!” Raz grunted, rubbing his cheek. “What was that for?”

“Sasha’s going to brief you!” Lili said, her open hand still open in the follow-through. “He thinks you’re in his office! You gotta go!”

“Oh! Right!” Raz turned on his heel and dashed back toward the main entrance. “Thanks Lili! Thank Harold for me!”

Lili waved him off. “Go get ‘em, Tiger!”

Raz swung and leaped along the quarry terrain and rolled to a stop on the pavement. Instead of taking the front doors, he dove straight for the OttoB.O.N. pneumatic tube network where he bounced around like one of the brains in balls until he reached the branch for Sasha’s laboratory. He ascended feet-first, kicking upward and sailing with a backflip into the lighted room. With scarcely a pause, he dashed around the corner and hopped into the office chair, smacking the Print button as he rolled past. The printer began ribboning out another banking document. The chair spun and revealed Sasha standing arms folded in the corner of his sitting room, staring at him.

“Razputin.”

Raz gulped. “Agent Nein.”

“Am I to assume you heard every word of that meeting?”

Raz gulped again, harder. “Yeah?”

Sasha sighed and shook his head. “Head back to your family’s campground, ask your parents’ permission and bring a warm coat. We leave in two hours.”

Chapter Text

“The Himalayan mountains? Absolutely not,” Donatella Aquato cried.

“But Mom!” Raz whined, a repurposed Whispering Rock parent permission form in his hand. “This is a big save-the-world level case!”

“Even more reason you should not go.” Donatella snapped a wet towel as punctuation and hung it on a clothesline to dry.

Aquato family was still camped in the Questionable Area. Truman had given them a permit to run their circus in the parking lot on a semi-permanent basis hoping it would increase tourism (and by extension, revenue) to the whole facility. Things felt a little more lived-in when Raz visited, but the campsite was still heavy with a sense of transience. With Maligula neutralized and the curse of the Galochios no longer a thing, it would be reasonable for the Aquatos to relax and settle in, but its hard to get the traveling circus out of the psyche, and their home camp still felt ready to bug out at any moment.

Donatella pulled a pair of striped leggings out of her washtub and wrung out the water with a particularly aggressive twist. "Bah. It is bad enough that you and your little agent friends spend all your time blasting yourselves with your brains, you now ask to do it on the other side of the globe where no one can watch you."

“Come now, my dear, he’s not going on this mission alone,” Augustus said from the other side of the campfire. He was balancing on one foot and attempting to juggle a set of pins with only his mind. He wasn’t good, but he was getting it done well enough to have a conversation at the same time. “You’re not going alone, are you Razputin?”

“Of course not! Sasha and Milla are taking me.”

“Bah.” Donatella said again and hung another wet towel. "See how he chooses his work parents over his blood parents."

"Mom, its not like that," Raz whined.

She pouted. “And how am I supposed to make sure you’re eating when you’re in the Himalayas, hm?”

“I’ll bring snacks,” Raz said.

“And will you also be bringing peace of mind for your mother? Because you have not left any here.”

“Mom,” Raz whined. “Come on, please? Sasha says I need my parents’ permission or I can't go.”

“Your mother says ‘no,’ Razputin,” Augustus said.

“But you don’t understand!” Raz persisted. “This is my chance to really help out!”

Augustus set down his juggling batons and beckoned Raz closer. “I know it can be frustrating, son. Some day you’ll be an adult and you can make your own decisions, but right now you are ten years old and the adults in your life still have to look out for you. There will be other super secret world-saving missions you can go on in the future, I promise.”

“Not if we don’t stop the Hornblower from mind-bombing everyone,” Raz muttered, but knew better than to raise such arguments with his parents. Shoulders hunched, he sulked back to the parking lot. He wandered past the circus tent and through the shadow of the giant animatronic lumberjack into the pancake-shaped building near the bluffs. The Lumberstack Diner was previously a breakfast hut (and temporarily a weapons manufacturing site if he was honest about whatever Sam Boole was doing in there,) and the new hobby of ex-head of the Psychonauts Ford Cruller. Unlike Raz, he had opted not to live in the dorms of the Motherlobe, preferring the surroundings of nature and the nostalgia of his commune at Green Needle Gulch. He also enjoyed proximity to his new/old girlfriend Lucy, who was also Raz’s grandma/great-aunt Nona, and also sitting delighted at the counter, clicking her heels together.

Ford was in the kitchen flipping flapjacks wearing his apron and chef’s toque as if he were back in Whispering Rock’s cafeteria. He flipped a pancake toward the ceiling, caught it on his spatula, and posed to Nona’s polite applause. He grinned, triumphant as one of his previous attempts came free of the ceiling and splatted on the flour-dusted tile floor behind him.

Ford turned as the bell above the diner door tolled his new guest's arrival. “Why, hello there, Razputin! Come to taste-test the Lumberstack’s new menu? I’m cookin’ up some real winners.”

“No thanks, Ford.” Raz hopped onto one of the counter chairs and rested his chin on the formica."I'm not hungry."

“Awww, Pootie,” Nona said in her reedy voice. “Are you having a difficult time?”

“Oh… Don’t worry about it, Nona,” Raz sighed dramatically. “Mom and Dad won’t let me go on the big Psychonauts mission.”

“Ohh?” Nona asked.

“It’s not fair, either! Truman said I could go. And it’s not like I’m going solo, I’ll have all the stars of True Psychic Tales looking after me,” Raz sighed again. "This stinks."

“Buck up, Junior Agent, things aren’t that bad,” Ford said. A towering plate of pancakes slid across the counter and booped Raz in the nose. “Have a short stack.”

He could hardly believe Ford of all people would be so optimistic – including calling the mountain of fried pastry “short.” Raz picked up a fork and carved a wedge out of the heap. “Why weren’t you at the briefing, Ford? Bob and Helmut were there.”

“Don’t worry, I got the short version from Truman, then the long version from Milla.” He poured another disk of batter onto his cooktop. “They’ve got plenty of agents on the case, they don’t need an old bag of bones like me.”

“That’s not true, Ford. This Hornblower guy is – ”

“Ahem,” Ford interrupted with a pointed glance at Nona. Raz bit his lip. After the events with Gristol Malik and the defeat of Maligula, Raz’s grandmother/aunt had been growing more Lucrecia-like every day. She had a lot of memories to process, and a lot left still repressed. Even with her worst inclinations under control, she was still an unknown entity and a powerful psychic and Ford had placed himself on permanent Lucrecia-watch duty, both in penance for the damage he done and also to rekindle the romantic relationship they’d forged in youth. It was a comfortable place for him, too. He wanted Nona back to her healthy Lucy persona as much as anyone.

Raz stuffed a forkful of pancakes in his mouth to stall and tried again. “Truman wanted all hands on deck and I have a chance to be some of those hands. I even have a sub-mission picked out that’s pretty safe. If mom would just let me explain it, I'm sure she'd let me go.”

“Pootie, your mother worries,” Nona said. “She has much to worry about. Our family has run away from war, we had grief, and the unknown, and lies to handle everywhere we went, but all that time we always made it through because we were together.”

Raz swallowed.

“You ran away from home, you learned to use your psychic powers, you moved away.” Nona bent toward him. “You’re growing up, Pootie.”

“I mean, I am…” Raz hesitated.

“And being grown up means you have a lot more responsibility.” Nona wagged her finger. “People count on you .You count on people. Choices matter more. Do you understand all that?”

“Yes, Nona,” Raz said.

“Then I will sign your permission slip,” Nona said.

Raz’s heart leaped. He tried his best to contain the glow he knew was beaming from his eyes. “Would permission from my Nona instead of my parents be good enough for Sasha to let me go?”

“For Sasha? Hah!” Ford laughed. “Go pack your bags.”

"Yes!" Raz passed Nona his slip for a signature and bounded down from the stool. He barreled through the door, but paused to listen at the crack.

Nona was chuckling. “Little scamp.”

“He’s still a little boy, but he’s got big potential.”

“You’ll keep an eye on him, won’t you Crully?”

“I always do, my love.”

Chapter Text

The Pelican flight to the Lowha Lasung Monastery was going to take over twelve hours. Thankfully, Truman sent them with plenty to do. The Pelican team's top secret mission-within-a-mission was not a replacement for the duties doled out in the conference room, they had to scan the wider Chinese territories for signs of Hornblower and his escaped convicts from the air as they soared at high-altitude toward the Himalayan mountains.

Milla was in charge of the mental world. When truly, fully meditating, the legendary Mental Minx had the capacity to sense mental disturbances all over the globe. Back in the Motherlobe she had a dedicated meditation room in order to sink deep into the currents of the collective unconscious, but on the Pelican she was left to build a temporary vibe-zone in the back of the plane. The path between the cockpit and the bathroom was loaded up with cushions and wreathed in clouds of incense. Milla floated at the center wearing a flowing green dress with a silk shawl that drifted around her like one of Saturn’s rings. Her portable sound system beeped and bopped with atmospheric disco, and the cabin lights were kept low. Raz was nervous about getting around her to go the bathroom, which he put off as long as he could, but somewhere over the Pacific Ocean he woke out of a plane-doze and had no choice but to attempt it. He inched along the wall, using all of his Psychic Secret Agent and Professional Acrobat skills to stay quiet, but to no avail. Milla peeked one eye open. "Everything all right, Razputin?"

He grit his teeth. "Yeah I just... didn't want to bother you."

"It's not a bother, Darling, you can't startle me," she closed her eyes. "I am sensing you, too, after all.”

"Oh... right."

Raz relaxed a little but kept to the wall. "Have you found anything?"

"A great many things," she whispered. "It's morning on the continent. I can sense millions of minds waking, thinking, moving through their days. They are a field of color and energy waving in the mental winds."

"But you can't see Hornblower yet."

Her dreamy mood didn't falter. "Things will become clearer when we are closer."

Sasha spent the entire trip in the pilot’s seat, charting courses and tracking communication to other aircraft and between the Motherlobe and the away teams. If he slept at all, Raz didn't notice. Any quiet moment he spent poring through research materials, including a familiar stack of printer paper taken from his office that turned into Raz's job once China was awake. Oleander slept loudly for about three hours, but otherwise was on the computer browsing news reports, aerial maps, train lines, telegrams, police traffic, and reports of petty thefts. Most of it was in either Russian or Chinese, and Raz couldn't tell if he understood either of them. He flagged anything with a sense of urgency and filed it on a side monitor to send to Fanrong when they were in range.

They reached land mid-morning local time. Oleander looked up from his keyboard with his jaw heavy on his hand. "Sheesh. Finally."

Sasha didn't look up from the spiral-bound notebook propped on his knee. He used TK to turn the page, his lit cigarette floating above his right shoulder. "Don't celebrate. We're going to Nepal."

Oleander groaned. "So what? More reports?"

"Time moves even in transit. It's possible Hornblower has been detected by local reports while we've been flying."

I’m tellin’ ya, Nein, a group of forty guys moving together is not gonna show up in all this stuff!" Oleander scoffed. "They’re too clever! If they'll be spotted at all, it's gonna be spotted by military or airforce radar. How about I hack into the Chinese war machine? See what they're covering up.”

“You’re welcome to monitor those as well, Morry. Just add it to your report.”

Raz swiveled his chair and scanned columns of numbers for withdrawals around the time of the first mind bomb detonation. He couldn't help but agree with the coach about wasting time, but like Sasha said back in his office, even if Horatio didn’t have access to a bank account somewhere, his terrorist friends probably did and he'd need their help to buy a bunch of train tickets or rent a bunch of cars. Raz didn’t consider when he was bargaining with his parents that he’d be fighting a world-threatening villain with a highlighter, but suspended between the shrine in the back and the tension between Sasha and Oleander in the front, the last thing Raz wanted to do was complain about being bored. He peeked sidelong at Sasha’s research packet, wishing he could spin a little Clairvoyance and read over his shoulder, but certain Sasha would notice if he tried.

Sasha noticed anyway. “Something you need, Razputin?”

“I, uh… just…” He cleared his throat. “Are you learning about these monastery guys?”

Sasha sighed and turned another page. “What little there is to learn, yes.”

“What kind of monks are they?” Raz asked. “Are they all psychic?”

“Yes, it’s a requirement of the Lowha Lasung order.”

“Do they all know this Weaponkinesis fighting technique?”

“It doesn’t say.” The page turned again. “Very few outsiders have been welcomed at their temple. Most of the information we have is from rejected postulants who only had temporary access to a small portion of the grounds. Horatio is rare in that he was admitted as a full monk, but left the order to pursue his own agenda. Most the monks commit their entire lives to achieve their order’s primary goal.”

“And what goal is that?” Oleander asked. “World domination?”

“Their entire belief system is devoted to ‘tempering the soul,’ which is a phrase they cultivated to describe perfect balance between the mind and the body. According to their theology, a perfectly tempered soul would give them absolute control over their psychic powers.”

“Absolute control?” Oleander asked. “What does that mean? Threading needles with their minds?”

“Yes, fine skills like that. Also grand moves. Lifting whole buildings with telekinesis, hypnotizing and compelling armies of people, controlling the weather…”

“Blowing the minds out of everyone’s skulls?” Oleander finished.

Sasha looked up. “I believe that point is proven already."

Raz’s stomach curdled a little. “So Horatio went to the monastery to get this "perfect temper," and now he’s using it for evil?”

“I very much doubt a ‘perfect temper’ is even possible,” Sasha scoffed. “To achieve perfection in any field is an unattainable goal. Having excellent control over your psychic abilities is something we should all strive for, but to chase perfection is to spend your entire life in pursuit and always fall short.”

“That can be a path of life, too,” Oleander challenged.

Sasha leveled his brow at the coach. “If you thrive on disappointment.”

Raz tapped his thumbs on the stack of printer paper. recalling the advice Milla gave him when they were discussing the Deluginists. The ability to do something isn’t as important as the belief that it can be done. Beliefs drive people to actions. “You said these guys were pacifists right?”

“That’s correct.”

“Does soul tempering mean they like… focus on being good or moral…?”

“You’re thinking of the soul in a different way than these monks are,” Sasha replied. “The Lowha Lasung are not a religious order, they’re psychic scholars studying the tension between between the mind and the body. All people are a combination of body and mind, psychic or not. As psychics we have the ability to draw the two aspects of ourselves apart and utilize them independently. That tension between those two halves is what they are calling the soul. We refer to it as a tether or the mind-body connection, but it’s the same thing.”

“So the soul isn;t the part of us that can astrally project into other people,” Raz guessed.

“No, that is the mind,” Sasha said.

“And our minds are our brains?”

“Our brains are where the mind ‘lives’ so to speak, but the brains are not the mind. The mind is intangible,” Sasha clarified. “This is where the monks’ opinion of the soul comes in. Psychics can separate body and mind, but they aren’t really separate. Even when wandering a distance away, each element needs the other to survive.”

"So to them, everyone has a soul, and you can improve your soul, but it's not a soul-soul... Like a ghost or something?"

"Ghosts don't exist." Sasha said.

"But aliens do?" Oleander chided.

Sasha leveled a finger at him. "Until proven otherwise? Statistically yes."

Raz sighed. “I still don’t think I get it.”

Sasha softened and eased back in his chair. “That’s all right, Raz. You focus on those number readouts and leave the theory to me.”

Raz pouted and looked back at the printer pages. it took him a moment to realize the music had switched off. He looked up to see Milla coming forward on stocking feet. Her eyes were still glazed, meaning her mind was still far.

Sasha’s cigarette torpedoed flame-first into the nearest ashtray. “Is it him?”

“It may be.” She turned to Oleander without really looking at him. “Eighteen degrees south of our bearing, please.”

“Oh! Ah! Right!” Oleander spun back to his station and punched buttons with renewed enthusiasm. Up popped news bulletins and emergency reports from a place called Buxing – a much smaller city than Fanrong by the look of it, but still sizeable according to the map.

“Focus tighter on the northwest portion,” Milla instructed. “There should be a plaza – ”

A flash of scrambled mental noise flashed through Raz’s head. He dropped his paperwork and pressed his temples to still the ringing in his mind. The feeling hurt similarly to being ejected violently from a psi-portal – a combination of physical pain from the fight in the mental world and the disorientation of returning to the real world without warning. Only with this, there was no safe place for his mind to land back in. It was his own head, and his mind was a ping pong ball slamming hard against his skull and the backs of his eyeballs as the roar of thousands of screaming ghosts rang in his ears.

Oleander squawked. Sasha winced. Milla let out a scream and doubled over. Sasha was just in time to catch her before her knees gave out. She gripped fist-fulls of hair on the sides of her head as waves of mental energy streamed from it like pink ribbons in a high wind. She gritted her teeth and focused. The glow dulled and shimmered back into her head as if braiding itself into her fluttering hair.

Oleander blinked. “What was that!?”

“Another detonation?” Sasha asked.

Milla nodded.

“How many…?” Sasha started, but Milla shook her head and he let the question die.

Milla took a deep breath. She rolled her shoulders and tossed her hair, transforming back into the more balanced and serene Milla from his comic books, although Raz noted her hand still clutching Sasha’s sleeve.

Oleander cleared his throat. “Its fifteen minutes between us and Buxing. HQ and Otto are aware of it, but we’re closeer than they are. Are we gonna to detour?”

Sasha glanced to Raz and nodded.

“All right. Detour it is.” The coach drew a shaky breath and transferred flight controls from Sasha's station to his.

Milla released Sasha's arm and took his shoulder instead. She pressed her forehead to his arm, grounding herself. Likely preparing herself for what they would find ont he ground. The image RAz saw on Truman’s slideshow rose to his mind. Bodies laying in the streets. Fires burning. His head still ached from the shockwave at a distance, he couldn't imagine what it was like for someone on the ground when it went off. Or someone walking the mental landscape. What had Milla seen when Hornblower detonated his attack. Was the mental world a wasteland with all those sould-tethers snapped? Or, more likely, was it a hellscape crowded with thousands of displaced minds - all scared, all screaming like the echo he heard in his head.

Raz realized he was staring at Milla and averted his eyes in time to catch Sasha glancing down at him over his shoulder. His mentor's mind was tight as a drum, but Raz didn’t need telepathy to see his thoughts. Doubt. Regret. Guilt.

Shame rushed into Raz's heart like a flood. After being so proud and confident back hom, Raz's number one hero was sorry he brought him along.

Chapter Text

The Pelican descended on a marketplace in Buxing. From above, the town looked undisturbed. Cute single-story buildings stood side-by-side with old-world wooden houses, sloped roofs with clay tiles, and sheltered concrete-paved sidewalks. A statue stood in the market center surrounded by greenery. No fires burned. No buildings were broken. Not a blade of grass was disturbed. But when they arrived at street level, it was plain to see the roads and sidewalks littered with unconscious people. Cars were stacked bumper-to-bumper against light poles and walls. Spilled bags of groceries lay feet from shoppers’ arms. Bikers and skaters lay in tangled heaps with their vehicles crashed alongside. Blood smeared slumbering faces from busted noses and broken crowns. No one moved, not even the animals. It was eerie and quiet and terrible.

Raz watched out the porthole window with his lower lip between his teeth. He reminded himself that they weren’t all dead bodies yet. Truman said a portion of the Siberian town Horatio hit was saved after the mind bomb, and Helmut and Bob were working hard at saving the victims of Fanrong - even the non-psychic ones - but neither case stopped Buxing from looking like a massacre. The mind bomb took out every living person. No one was spared. His stomach churned with a mix of wanting to help and not wanting to look.

Milla was back in her boots and in charge. She checked her gloves and earrings with the same serious tone as she checked her radio. “Sasha and I will run a sweep. If there are signs of Hornblower’s whereabouts, we must know them immediately. Agent Mentallis is on his way with support. Stay by the radio and continue scanning the surrounding activity for signs of his movement.”

“Aye, ma’am,” Oleander said.

Sasha tugged the lapels of his suit jacket. “Raz, stay on the plane.”

Raz’s heart was still raw. He was so excited to be trusted and included, now he felt like a burden. He couldn’t help feeling he’d done something wrong. “But can't I…?”

“Please don’t argue,” Sasha said. “We’ll be back soon.”

“I’ll take the air,” Milla said.

“I’ll follow on foot,” Sasha agreed. “Let’s go.”

The two agents took off down the Pelican gangplank. They moved between bodies, not stopping to help or check for vitals. Raz stomach tightened more. He understood that stopping Horatio was the highest priority, but so many people needed help and he was just standing there, useless. Oleander returned to the pilot seat. “Don’t worry too much. We got here fast as we could. Otto will sort out the rest.”

“I hope so… just…” Raz gripped his own arm in a weak attempt at comfort. “We’re not really going to sit here and wait, are we?”

“Truman said no kids and dead bodies.”

“They aren't dead, though. We can still help them.” Raz asked. “How many of them are there?”

“I dunno. One report said 50,000? Something like that.”

“And we’re sure all of them were hit by this bomb?” Raz asked.

“You felt it go off in the plane, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah I felt it,” Raz shivered with the memory. “But 50,000 people…”

“When Sasha and Milla get back, we’ll start knitting some back together. Until then, you sit tight. Agent Mentallis will be here in ten - ”

The coach was interrupted by a distant explosion. The Pelican shuddered. Shingles rattled on the nearby storefronts and a thin cloud of dust drifted into the market square. Oleander stood for a look out the window then checked the local readout. “Wild Mind at seven.”

“What?” Raz asked.

“A wild mind. A psychic who is out of control of their powers,” Oleander explained. “It happens sometimes to latents in car-crashes and stuff. Concussions. Sleepwalkers, too. Their brains are still active but their minds are gone.”

“What do we do?” Raz asked.

“WE don’t do anything,” Oleander said. “YOU are a minor. We'll track the movement for Otto when he gets here and hope it doesn’t kill anyone.”

Another explosion shook the square. Flames flickered against a plume of smoke two streets over. Raz balled his fists against the wall on either side of the window. “But the town is full of people! What if that fire is on top of someone, they can’t move!”

“Bad luck.”

“Can’t YOU go do it?” Raz challenged. “I get not letting me go, but you’re a Psychonaut. You can’t sit here and do nothing.”

“No choice kid. Lassoing a wild mind takes two people,” Oleander said.

“Then forget Truman’s orders, let’s go get it done!” Raz said. “I know you’re not scared of Sasha and Milla – ”

"Hey there. I don’t like this any more than you do,” Oleander said. “Fact is, this type of work is not appropriate for a Junior Agent even if you were an adult. It takes coordination and timing and mental navigating and a whole lot of coordination that you’re not prepared for.”

“I’ve saved the world twice. Once against you,” Raz said.

Oleander pouted.

“Sasha said I was one of the best mental navigators he’s ever seen. I fought and defeated Maligula. You’re telling me I can’t at least try to do this?” Raz said. “Come on, Coach. You and me - partner mission! That way we can at least save one person out here.”

“Argh!” Oleander grunted. A third explosion rocked the square. Debris littered the rooftops on a street closer than before. One of the buildings sagged and toppled. The coach grit his teeth and hopped up from the console. “Okay, fine. But you gotta do everything I say!”

Raz snapped a salute. “Yes, coach!”

“Follow me.” Oleander opened the gangplank just long enough for the two of them to descend before sealing it up. He dodged around the unconscious bodies, leading Raz past the market and up a narrow alley near the site of the last explosion. Raz expected to see a shrieking maniac or a mindless zombie, but found more of the same silent storefronts and unconscious bodies. He glanced and down the street in either direction. “Did we lose them?”

“Shh!” Oleander hissed.

He pressed two fingers to his temple and reached out with his mind. Raz could sense the yellow-gold glimmer of Oleander’s mental influence beaming out in waves. Clairvoyance. Raz pressed two fingers to his temples and followed suit. His mind reached out, hunting for a subject to read. The bodies were all devoid of mental activity. He saw bits of ghostly afterimages trailing from a couple skulls, but mostly they were empty. Above them, in the middle of the street, a purplish-bluish figure appeared; a fully-formed astral projection. Raz could make out an arm and shoulder as the invisible man turned.

“Duck!” Oleander shoved Raz back into the alley and dove across the street. A concussive blast rattled the spot between them, popping Raz’s ears and shattering the plaster in the walls around him. Dust and swirled from the epicenter, but there was no crater in the asphalt. It was concussive, but not forceful. Raz snapped his fingers.

“Sonokinesis! TPT 107!”

”Razputin!” Coach Oleander beamed into his head.

Raz responded in kind. ”I’m okay.

”I’m gonna need to pin this guy down here. Your job is to find the body he came out of.”

”How will I know it's his?"

“No one in this town has a mental presence anymore, but this guy’s a latent psychic. Use your Clairvoyance on the bodies - just the bodies, okay? I'll keep the Wild Mind active. Every time he lashes out, you'll be able to see an echo of the mental activity in his brain. When you find him, report back. I’ll tell you what to do.”

"Got it!”

"Go!"

Oleander burst from cover and started assaulting the invisible foe with psi-blasts. Raz sprang from cover and sprinted past him, jumping and dodging his way toward the smoke trail that marked the Wild Mind’s first explosion. He skirted the fire from the second blast -- the Wild Mind had crushed a moped with a sonic explosion and the spilled fuel was burning off. Raz grabbed the vehicle with his mental fist and moved it away from the flames. A second alley spat Raz out near a restaurant door where a greeter was slouched vacantly against a decorative topiary. The column of smoke he sought was just ahead. He reengaged his Clairvoyance and started his search.

As Oleander said, the minds around him were quiet. Raz’s skin prickled. He'd never opened his mind on purpose and received nothing in return. Even as a little kid, he'd heard Dion and Frazie thinking or listened to the thoughts of the circus crowd while he was performing. Any group of people was always full of shopping lists, personal notes, and people who’d forgotten to turn over their laundry, but the streets of Buxing was quiet both mentally and physically. Not even the campers at Whispering Rock who had their whole brains removed were this empty. The crunch of his heels seemed weirdly loud as he moved from body to body. Another explosion boomed behind him. Raz jumped and turned, but a niggle tugged at his brainstem from somewhere behind him. Rounding on the street, he widened his perception and spotted the faintest of a blip of purplish energy from roadside crepe stand.

The owner of the stand was a middle-aged man in an apron. He was lean and tallish with a thin mustache and a bald spot on the back of his head. Raz lifted him with telekenesis and laid him gently on the road. The sleeve of his smock was singed from the cooktop, but the skin underneath looked fine. A pale purple veil encased his empty mind like plastic wrap.

Raz beamed a thought out to Oleander. ”Okay, I found his body.

”Good. You got your psi-portal with you?”

Of course. It hadn’t left his backpack since he’d stolen it off Sasha’s desk back in Whispering Rock. “I got it right here!”

“Good. This is the easy part. Go in his head and wait for me to contact you. I’ll use our mental connection to bridge the gap.”

“And that’ll put his mind back where it belongs?” Raz said.

“Some’in’ like that.”

Raz pulled the tiny door-shaped psi-portal from its pocket in his backpack and planted it in the middle of the sleeping man’s forehead. He snapped his goggles over his eyes and concentrated on his subject as the portal opened. The swirling depths of the mental world drew Raz’s consciousness toward it. He let his mind go and his astral projection leaped out of his own head and into the waiting landscape of the crepe vendor’s mind.

Chapter Text

Raz had been in a dormant mindscape before. When he first met Helmut Fullbear, the musician was a bodiless brain who’d been without thought for so long, he didn’t even remember who he was. It took Nick Johnsmilth’s body (Gristol Malik’s body. Raz still felt a little ill at the thought of that) to wake Helmut up and bring him into full cognition again. This situation was a bit different, but the optics were the same. Raz walked an invisible plane surrounded by darkness so deep it both felt claustrophobic and infinite at the same time. His footsteps echoed. Raz cleared his throat. “Hello?”

Caling out in Helmut’s mind summoned the dormant consciousness as a mote of light. When Sasha and Milla were brainless they could still speak in full thoughts, but as Raz's voice echoed into the vast dark, nothing replied. Raz cupped his hands and tried again.

“Hello! Mr. Crepe Salesman? I know you’re not home right now, but maybe you can try and talk to me? I’m here to help!”

Still no response. The purple sheen he'd seen on the outside was a sign that the mind was at least still active, it was possible to find a shimmer of it somewhere if he looked. Raz opened a levitation ball over his head. He hadn't mastered actual free-floating levitation yet. Milla promised to tutor him, but that was for another time. At present, the "training wheel" thought bubble was better used as lantern than as a vehicle. Raz dragged it with him like a balloon, spreading his signature orange glow and giving the place context.

Whatever the crepe vendor’s mindscape looked like before, it was currently in shambles - bits of furniture lay tossed around, buildings were titled at weird angles, and wedges of mental construct poked up from the surface in colorless juts. Every so often a doorframe or patch of roof tiles reminded him of the real-life Buxing, but other things were alien. An oozing puddle of uncooked batter leaked from oversized shards of porcelain. Curling arches, once decorative, were twisted into fearsome branches like trees. It was unnervingly hot. Raz's ears tingled as a wave of pale purple rippled overhead, dropping the pressure in the space so fast Raz could feel it in his diaphragm.

The fight must still be going. Raz cupped his mouth and tried again. "Hey! Coach? I'm here! Are you coming?"

Oleander didn't reply, either. Raz continued walking. He stepped down a short dip and stepped on the hissing surface of a metal cooktop. Raz's thought bubble popped as he hopped backward, the toe of his leather boot smoking in the lavender cast of a distant mental beacon. Raz lifted his goggles from one eye and squinted through the dark. A standing stone stood solidly in a cleared space behind him. It was the only vertical thing in the entire mindscape, and all the structures around it were bent backward in a ring around its base.

Raz jogged closer. The lavender glow was fading quickly. He pressed his hands to its surface and felt the crackle of mental energy diminishing as well. He knocked on the solid surface and felt it reverberate. Hollow. This wasn't crepe-related, it had to mean something. Another purple ripple raced across the sky. The stone regained its glow as the energy neared. A ring at the top rose on a stalk. Raz backed up for a better look. The ring lifted straight up, gaining light and energy with every inch. The glow swelled in the dark, revealing the image of a little girl carved as a relief into the rock's base. The girl was posed with her fists in her cheeks and her brow pinched. She reminded Raz of Mirtala when she was still afraid of the dark. She definitely was not the crepe-vendor, but she was important to him. Raz pressed a hand to her forehead and spoke again. “Is this... Is this your daughter?”

Again, no response. The ring at the top of the statue quivered at the apex of its ascent and slammed back down, releasing the mental light in a sonic wave that popped Raz's ears and sent him stumbling backward, eyes dulled and ears ringing.

”Raz!” Oleander's voice echoed above the keen. "Raz, where are ya?"

"Here!" Raz stood.

”Great!”

A perfect circle opened in front of Raz's face. The sudden light hurt his eyes as much as the thumper hurt his ears. The surface swirled like the entrance to a psi-portal, betraying glimmers of an overcast sky and flashes of light. The coach’s hand burst through the ring and extended a length of shining golden rope.

“Grab this!”

Raz tentatively gripped the dangling end of the string. Energy tingled through his glove, as if he was holding a live wire. “What is this thing?”

“Never mind that right now. Tie it to something.”

"But -- !"

The coach’s arm vanished back into the ring. The moment he let go, the rope was yanked back toward the open portal. Raz yelped and doubled his grip, digging his heels into the formless ground as the rope kicked and bounced like a bucking bronco was on the other end. Raz glanced around for something to tie it to, but there was only one real option. He yanked hard to gain some slack and dragged the gold rope toward the thumper stone.

Raz circled it twice, fighting for every inch with mental fists and physical leverage. Crackles of mental energy raced up and down the cord as it twitched and jumped. When it wouldn't give any more, Raz stopped to tie the knot. He put his feet up on the back of the stone and tightened the best taut-line hitch he could with the length he had. ”Okay, Coach. I’ve got it.”<

”Good job. Now hang on!”

As soon as he said it, the world around Raz trembled. Raz kicked a backflip off the stone and retreated a pace. The golden cord jerked against the stone. The sky glowed and the thumper rose from the top. Raz crouched low and fixed his eyes on the trembling knot. He wasn't sure if he could hold it if it came free, or what would happen to the vendor. The loops shooking loose against the stone's surface. A crack ribboned up the side, splitting the image of the girl's face across the nose. Raz's heart beat even faster, not sure what was worse - the string breaking free or the thumper going with it.

All around, the mindscape was falling to rubble. The feeble structures collapsed, throwing debris into the air where it hovered, refusing or forgetting to fall. Bursts of steam erupted from the ground around the clearing, melting mental formations like butter and carving canyons in the earth. The sky was a riot of exploding color. Sonic waves rippled the air. The thumper plunger reached its apex. Raz balled up and covered his ears, ready to be propelled either into the rubble or out of the mind altogether when a a thick ammonia smell rushed to his nose.

The rope went rod-straight. A scream rose from the portal and in a flash, the crepe vendor burst through the tiny portal and slammed against the standing stone. The crack in the surface split straight through, taking the girl's face off at the cheeks and felling the piston before it had a chance to strike.

The moment the figure burst through, light flushed the entire mindscape, illuminating a blue sky, dirt road, and grass-covered hills. Buildings reassembled from floating bits with an audible snap. Fresh walls grew from the earth, followed by curls of flowering vines. The thumper was overtaken by bursts of colored flowers. The vines climbed upward, past the edge of the broken stone and into a beautifully topiary. The girl's face was reconstructed in moss with two orchids opening in her eyes.

The crepe vendor collapsed like a ragdoll on the floor of his own mind. Raz uncurled, marveling a moment at the lush garden before approaching the fallen psychic. The portal ring was gone, as was the string sticking through it. The crepe vendor wheezed and shuddered. He was crying. Raz raised his goggles and approached as gently as possible. "Excuse me?"

The vendor froze, eyes bugging with terror and confusion. He was dressed in a grease-stained smock and apron with a fresh flower tucked in the pocket on his sleeve.

Raz thought of Lili and crouched down to establish a better eye-line. He waved. “Hi, there. You okay?”

The crepe vendor blinked up at him.

“So… good news. You’re psychic,” Raz said. “You probably didn’t know that before, so give it a minute to sink in. Bad news, your whole town has been flattened by a mind bomb. But don’t worry, I’m a Psychonaut, and my friends and I are here to help sort all that out.”

The man demanded something in Chinese.

“Oh yeah, I guess you don't speak English,” Raz said.

The crepe vender’s labored breathing eased. He rose onto his elbows and asked Raz a question in Chinese.

“Sorry, I can’t help you with that. But I’ll find someone who can, I promise.” Raz offered his hand to help the vendor stand. The man glanced between Raz's face and open palm. He reached out, but the strong punch of ammonia hit Raz first. He was yanked backward, out of the man's hand and back into his own body. Oleander was standing in front of him with a sardine-can-looking canister of smelling salts held under Raz's nose. Raz coughed, eyes watering, and waved the coach away. "What was that for?"

"I didn't send you in there to sightsee." Oleander gestured to the crepe vendor sitting on the curb.

The man's eyes drifted back to focus from an inward-facing stupor. He looked up and spotted Raz with a jolt of anxiety.

"Recognize me?" Raz asked him.

He beheld the bodies in the street and pressed the group with questions in a shaky voice.

“Morry!” Milla's voice called from overhead. She sailed down from the rooftops with her impeccable hair frayed at the temples. “Morceau, Razputin, where did you go? I was worried sick.”

Oleander went bright red. “We.. ah… we had a Wild Mind situation.”

"I see." Milla regarded the crepe vendor with a more motherly tone. “Hello there, Darling.”

The man crawled backward on his elbows, making more panicked demands in frantic Chinese

“Oh dear,” Milla said. She bent forward and attempted a slow, careful Chinese phrase with a heavy Brazillian accent. “Pingjing.”

The man looked unsure but calmed down a little. Milla straightened as Sasha descended to join them. "Otto's landed."

"Oh good," Milla sighed.

“They’re keying on our location. Eta two minutes.” Sasha lit another cigarette and looked straight at Raz. ""What did I say about the plane?"

"Uh..." Raz cringed. "Coach said I could."

Oleander slitted his eyes. "Benedict Arnold."

"They worked together to calm this poor soul," Milla gestured to the confused man on the ground. "His mind was wandering."

"Even so." Sasha spoke directly to Raz. "Listen. You are my responsibility on this mission, not Oleander's. When I say to stay on the plane, I expect you to stay on the plane. Keep this up and I will not bring you again."

Raz hung his head. "Yes, sir."

“Any sign of Hornblower?” Oleander asked.

“As suspected, he was far away from Buxing when the bomb went off,” Milla said. "We were able to follow a path of Psilirium residue to the train station. It appears a single perpetrator disembarked and made their way to the geographic center of the city before detonation."

Oleander grimaced. “He still alive?”

Milla averted her eyes ad shook her head.

The air hummed as Agent Mentallis arrived on a Psychonauts-branded hoversled, accompanied by a dozen agents in gray knitwear. Otto landed the sledge and barked to his companions like a general. “Split up. Half on triage, the rest on lasso. You know the drill.”

The agents scattered to action, filling the air with Psychic resonance from through Telekinesis and Clairvoyance.

Otto joined the knot of Psychonauts in the street with a pointed glance at Sasha. “So, what’s the report?”

"No survivors," Sasha replied. "The same as Fanrong."

“Nuh, uh. We have one!” Oleander gestured to the crepe vendor who was growing more and more confused and terrified by the second. “He's a latent Psychic. We’re hoping maybe he saw something.”

“Let me see.” Otto knelt in front of the man and lifted the eye-shaped pendant he wore around his neck to the crepe vendor’s eye level. The man stared at it in horror, only to be hit with a psychic beam that sent is eyes wide and jaw slack. After a second, Otto shut the pendant’s affect off and rose. The vendor blinked again, pale and sweating. Otto reported to the rest. “His name is Zhang Wei. He’s lived in Buxing his whole life. No psychic experience. I didn't see any sign of Hornblower, but he definitely witnessed the bomb go off. Not sure what sent him wild.”

“I think he was worried about his daughter,” Raz offered.

Otto glared at him, annoyed. "And you know that, how?"

Raz grimaced. “Uh...”

“We’ll brief you about it later,” Oleander cut in. “For now, we’ve got a lot of mopping up to do around here. The whole town has been dementistrated. What's the state of Fanrong?”

“We’re making progress,” Otto replied. “I wish I had more manpower. Video footage shows Horatio was definitely there before the attack. He left one of the prisoners at a hotel. No footage of the blast's origin, but it came from that room two hours later.”

“How many civilians have been recovered?" Milla asked.

"A couple thousand since this morning. Compton's making good progress, but Bob's team is having trouble. A lot of hands to hold."

Milla's jaw tightened. "You can’t spare any more agents for this town?”

“Not if we want to rescue civilians.”

"I see," Milla said.

Otto forged ahead. "What news from the outside scans?"

“Nothing on police scans, but we are chasing a lead,” Sasha reported. “Our course was headed southwest. After this event, I suspect Hornblower is as well.”

“What? Why?” Oleander asked.

“As a Psychic suppressed by Psilirium poisoning, he’d need to be at least as far from the epicenter of this attack as we were on the Pelican,” Sasha explained. “His command over his own mind is still too weak for him to knit himself back together without help from another psychic. If he was in Fanrong this morning, he must have sent his detonator up here as a distraction. I suspect he has some sort of safehouse deeper inland.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Otto agreed. “He doesn’t gain much from destroying either Buxing or Fanrong apart from his general goal of non-psychic genocide. That goal would be much easier to accomplish when he’s back to full strength.”

“He knew of course that the Psychonauts would respond when we heard that he had escaped the prison facility, and we are the only ones capable of catching him and preventing his plan," Milla said. "To attack these large populations of people is guaranteeing our priorities. It is all quite devious."

“Unfortunately, if we continue to pursue him, he will continue to deter us," Sasha said. He looked at Otto. "You know what that could mean.”

“It’s crossed my mind, yes,” he agreed

“What?” Raz asked. “What does it mean?”

“More attacks,” Milla replied. "Beacons to scatter us. Innocent minds in jeopardy."

“So what? We call off the search?” Oleander asked. “Just let the guy win?”
“We won’t let him win, but we will need to call off the visible search,” Otto said. “No more camera or radio scans. Mental world only for as long as he's still suppressed. I’ll discuss the details with Truman.”

“We will continue scanning the region from the air as we head south, but we must leave now,” Sasha said. “Every minute we waste is a card in his hand.”

“I am staying here,” Milla said.

Raz’s stomach flipped. Sasha's brow furrowed. "You're sure?"

“The strongest agents are all working in Fanrong. If we wait for them to join us, some of these minds will be lost. I may be able to save all of them.”

“All?” Oleander scoffed. “There’s thousands of people here.”

“It will be difficult,” Milla agreed, “But if it is possible, it must be attempted.”

“You’ll need a partner,” Sasha said.

“No, you and Morceau continue as planned.” Milla canted her head toward Sasha, sending some telepathic message Raz was unprepared to catch.

Sasha nodded. "We will take up mental scanning. Keep your focus here. Check in when you can."

"Of course, darling," Milla smiled.

Sasha nodded to the others. “Morry. Raz. Let’s go.”

“I don’t have to go,” Raz flit glances between him and Milla. “I've seen how it works, I could stay here and help - ”

“No, you come with us,” Sasha stated. “No arguing.”

“Right.” Morry saluted the agents remaining behind and clapped his hands at Raz. “March, soldier!”

“Okay, all right, I’m coming.” Raz sulked, but lingered long enough to hear Otto scoff behind him. "So," he said. "Explain to me why Truman let you two bring your Junior Agent and wouldn’t let me bring mine?"

“Otto," Milla sounded heartbroken. "He wasn't meant to see this."

“Well he has and it's not fair,” Otto replied. “Let's make this cleanup quick. I've got some angry letters to send."

“Very well,” Milla said. Raz felt the cast of her mental eye turn on him and froze. Milla's voice entered his mind. “Take care of yourself, darling. For your sake and mine.”

Chapter Text

Without Milla on the Pelican, responsibilities took a shift. Raz took over Oleander's task of reading the scanners and maps, and quickly understood why the coach was having a hard time concentrating on it. The information was as dry as the bank account statements and ten times more complex. It didn’t help that Raz couldn't stop worrying about Milla. Recovering Zheng Wei’s mind was hard enough with Oleander’s help… to do thousands of those by herself was going to be ten times harder. Milla was the Mental Minx, so Raz was confident she COULD do it, but couldn't figure out how she could avoid burning herself out. At the same time, he understood why she opted to stay. Milla was life and color. Her mind was a padded bowling alley to help cadets feel safe and supported, and the victims of the Mind Bomb would need that badly. Zheng Wei's mind was hollow and empty without him, and he was so scared and upset when he got back to it, Raz was still thinking about it. He was glad he was able to help him, even if it got him in trouble with Sasha. Raz hoped he was okay. He hoped Milla could find his daughter.

Oleander was in the pilot’s seat. It would normally be a point of pride for him, but the coach was getting worn down by the mission as well. He pouted and grumbled to himself from the helm, unhappy with Otto for calling off a direct charge against Horatio, unhappy with Sasha for being in charge of their little away team, unhappy with Truman for not nuking this terrorist from space, and unhappy with himself for not thinking of a way to end this more quickly than they were. Raz caught little flashes of blueprints and plans in his fluctuating thought-scape. Oleander wasn’t even trying to hide his complicated death rays and satellite-mounted warheads anymore. Raz recognized it as the coach’s primary comfort language and left him alone to stew.

While Raz scanned and Oleander planned, Sasha assumed Milla’s role as mental surveyor. Unlike the Minx’s ethereal, music-and-color-fueled meditation space, Sasha’s version of the zone was silent as a grave. Instead of floating, he lay flat with his hands folded over his chest. His glasses lay in state over his shoulder. His headphones were noise-canceling. He even made a little coffin out of the pillows and draped the head of it in a thick blanket to cut off the light. It also took him a lot more concentration than Milla. The air in the back of the plane was so charged with mental energy it vibrated. Raz could feel it creeping under his skin. He wanted nothing more than to put on music or start a conversation to fill the void but had the very distinct, unspoken impression that breaking this ironclad silence would damage something fragile and important, so he returned to his maps.

The Pelican was almost to the Himalayan mountains. Raz pulled up a region map where the Lowha Lasung monastery was marked with an ‘x’ like pirate treasure. Cities and towns appeared as flags for Police radio activity. There wasn’t time to screen every call, but the number of emergencies going on in any one place was notable. Raz wished he had a key to break the code of what he was looking at, but didn't dare ask Sasha, so he made notes of what he could and flipped through mugshots and security camera footage until the palpable silence was broken by a groan from the back of the plane.

Sasha rose from his shrine with the blanket draped over his head like a ghost. He leaned forward against his knees with the heels of his hands pressed to his eyes.

Oleander swiveled his chair toward ths ound. “Trouble, Nein?”

Sasha discarded the blanket, revealing a bedraggled head of hair and a pair of purplish bags under his eyes that were quickly hidden behind his tinted glasses as they floated back to his face. Sasha rose, TK’ing a cigarette out of his coat and pyro’ing it in mid-air as he approached the cockpit. By the time he was slouched into one of the starboard-side seats, the cigarette was half gone. He flopped an arm across his face and blew smoke. “I wish I had my lab equipment.”

“You rely too much on machines,” Oleander said. “A REAL Psychonaut runs on intuition and instinct!”

“Dare I ask what your intuition is telling you about this situation?”

“Violence mostly,” Raz answered privately and thought he caught Sasha smile.

Oleander soldiered on. “My gut tells me this guy isn’t headed for any terrorist group. He’s had years to sit and plan in prison right? You don’t spend all that time and energy to break out and go back to your old friends. if you ask me, he’s gone rogue.”

“That’s very interesting, but it doesn’t affect the immediate situation,” Sasha said.

“Yeah but it could affect what direction he’s headed,” Oleander said. “We’re headed to his old monastery. Dollars to doughnuts he’s waiting for us when we get there.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Why? They taught him everything he knows, right?”

“Yes, but he’s also killed thousands of innocent people.” Sasha peeked from under his arm. “Just because they are pacifists doesn’t mean they are forgiving. If Horatio returned to Lowha Lasung, he’d be confronted with an order of angry Weaponskinesis experts juggling swords and pitchforks with their minds.”

“Wouldn’t stop me.” Oleander scoffed. “We should at least check it out. If he’s headed the same direction we are, he could be directly under us right now! Then we could pounce on him and put a lid on this thing once and for all.”

“There is unfortunately a lot of mentalference at the moment,” Sasha replied. “Psychic energy from Buxing has clouded everything. I can sense glimmers of psychics on the ground, but I can’t see them clearly enough to identify who they are.”

“And out in the mountains?” Oleander prompted.

Sasha exhaled again. “I am not Milla Vodello.”

“Ah, yeah, right…” Oleander tapped his fingers on the console and rallied his spirits. “I can take a crack at it if you want?”

“Be my guest.”

The coach abandoned the pilot's seat for the meditation zone where he started constructing a pillow fort with a flurry of yellow-tinted psychic hands. Sasha took the coach’s place at the helm. Having stats and meters to look at seemed to heal him a bit Raz kicked his feet under his chair, antsy again in the fresh silence. He cleared his throat. “Agent Nein?”

"Yes, Razputin?"

“You uh… know how I helped the coach save Mr. Zheng?”

Sasha's sidelong glance was betrayed by a slight tilt of his head. “Yes.”

Raz bristled, but persisted. “I'm not really sure how Coach reconnected Mr. Zheng’s mind with his body. I was in Mr. Zheng’s head and it was really dark and empty, but then the coach opened up some kind of portal and handed me a string that yanked Mr. Zheng through. I did what he told me, but he didn’t really explain what was happening.”

The request for knowledge shifted Sasha out of disappointed-dad mode and into camp-counselor mode which made the plane a much more comfortable place to be. “Do you remember what I was telling you about the Lowha Lasung and their definition of the soul?”

“That it’s the connection between a person’s mind and a person’s body.”

“That string the coach handed you was an artificial version of the mind-body tether. Or I should say a surrogate version used as a bridge to assist the reformation of a mind’s NATRUAL tether after it is broken. While you were in Mr. Zheng Wei’s mind, Oleander was wrestling with his displaced ego on the real-world side.”

“Yeah, we saw him explode some buildings from the plane.”

“When a mind that has never wandered before finds itself without a body, it panics. If the mind has a psychic affinity – as Zheng Wei does – that natural proclivity is the first thing it reaches for. It’s likely he didn’t even know he was causing those explosions. To him it was a very frightening experience.”

“And fighting him helps that?”

“Subduing a Wild Mind is necessary, but we don’t want to hurt them. It’s not their fault they can’t find their way home.” Sasha was relaxing more by the minute. “The only way to truly calm a Wild Mind is to return it to its body and restore a sense of normalcy. This requires an accomplished psychic like one of our agents to astrally project themselves from their own body and meet the displaced mind one-on-one. The agent then uses an advanced Mental Connection technique called a Mental Lasso to capture the displaced mind. That was the rope you saw, it was a construct of the coach’s mind similar to a psi-blast or a mental shield that he attached to Zheng Wei’s astrally projected ego.”

“Awesome!” Raz cried. “Can you teach me?”

Sasha slouched against the console. “Not right now.”

“Right…" Raz sucked his lips. "So what do you do with the wild minds when you’ve caught them?”

“Reunite the mind with its original body, although it’s more complicated than simply dragging the two together. The tie between the mind and body has been severed, so that needs to be repaired. That’s why the coach needed your help. It’s extremely difficult for a single psychic to juggle maintaining the lasso, containing the ego, and traversing the collective unconscious to the original body all in one go. The common procedure is for one agent to be in charge of the mind portion of the patient and one to be in charge of the body. The mind agent – Morry in this case – uses the lasso to draw the displaced ego not into the ego’s own body, but into his own mental landscape. Once the displaced ego is in a mindscape, it will conjure its own mentally constructed body automatically – you’ve experienced that at camp when you were drawn into the coach’s mind in Basic Braining. You were taken out of your body, but you stayed sane because your mind was able to construct a new body in the mental world and maintain that sense of normalcy. Once a Wild Mind is back in a mindscape, they usually calm down.”

“And he needed me in Mr. Zheng’s head because...?"

"You and the Coach already have a mental connection," Sasha continued. "That emotional bond allowed him to locate you in Zheng Wei's mind and hand you the end of the mental lasso. With him holding the end with the mind and you holding the end with the body, the two of you made a fake soul-tether that allowed Zheng Wei's natural one to snap back into place with smelling salts as if nothing happened.”

Raz's heart leaped. He not only helped, he was ESSENTIAL. He beamed. “That's awesome!”

Sasha softened with a smile.

“Can you two stop gabbing?” Oleander barked through a gap in his pillow ford. “I’m trying to concentrate over here!”

“Sorry, Coach,” Raz called back.

Sasha respectfully switched to telepathy. ”I will teach you the mental lasso method when we have a chance, Razputin. Until then, remember; if you ever find yourself outside of your body with no tether, you can always use Mental Connection to find your way back. You have the talent and the skill, you needn’t be worried about the mind bomb as long as you allow your own thoughts to lead you home.”

An alert beeped on the console behind Raz’s chair. He swiveled to look at the maps. “We’re coming up on the Himalayan mountains.”

“Ascending.” Sasha reported. He switched the autopilot off and took the Pelican higher. The more their altitude increased, the fuzzier and more broken the signal on Raz's screens became until no input was getting through at all. Raz clicked the buttons, trying to pull up something, but all he saw was snow. “Uh... Is this normal?”

“It’s the mountains,” Sasha said. “It blocks incoming and outgoing transmissions.”

“Psychic ones, too?” Raz asked. “My head feels foggy.”

“Wait!” Oleander burst out of his fort in a jumble of pillows and dashed forward to fold himself over the center console. “Down there!”

“What?” Sasha stood. “What is it?”

“Psilirium residue!” He pointed through the windshield. “There! Down there!”

“Psilirium?” Raz cried. “That must be the prisoners!”

“It would have to be all of them to put off a strong enough residue field to sense from here,” Sasha said.

“What do we do?” Raz asked.

“Land!” Oleander said.

“Climb,” Sasha said at the same time.

“What?" Oleander cried. "You’re gonna run? We can stop them right now!”

“We need more information,” Sasha replied.

“Come on, Nein! Don’t be a coward.”

Raz flushed with adrenaline. “Sasha’s not a – ”

Sasha spoke over him. “Best case scenario - the three of us descend on Horatio in a private jet and capture forty-plus hostiles including a homicidal maniac with no way to call for backup. Worst case? Horatio detonates another bomb, the three of us are dementistrated out of our own heads, and every one of those men die.”

“They’re vicious convicts!”

“Guilty or not, they are still people and they are still victims,” Sasha insisted. “There’s no reason to act irrationally when we can be patient and do this the correct way. Keep your mind on that residue, I’m taking us up.”

“This is horseshit and you know it,” Oleander snapped.

Sasha turned to Raz. “Hit the green button in front of you and give us an exterior camera view. I want to see what’s below us.”

“Yes, sir!” Raz spun and punched the panel as instructed. A camera view popped open, revealing a green-tinted landscape of craggy mountains and patches of vegetation far below the plane.

It was rough terrain, too uneven for an accessible road. The stones scissored in on each other like teeth. Raz didn’t see any convicts, but he wasn’t even sure a group of men would leave a path in a place like this. They definitely couldn’t drive. Even off-road vehicles wouldn’t make it. If they were scattered on foot, they could be hiding in the crevices, perhaps. Raz focused hard on the camera view and projected his senses downward. He could feel the psilirium residue Oleander mentioned… it had the same warping brain-stem feeling as the Rhombus of Ruin did, and as a result it also tasted kind of fishy. Raz tried to pinpoint its origin but his reach was getting weaker as the Pelican angled upward.

Oleander had a stronger radar on it. “There’s a patch south and east. One a bit further north. They must have split up.”

“You can feel individual bodies?” Sasha asked. “Are you sure?”

“Are you doubting me?”

“Frankly. yes.”

“I’m going to write up a report on you when this is over, I hope you know that.”

“I think I see something,” Raz interrupted. He followed the coach’s directions with the camera and spotted a tiny building tucked into the rock. “See that?”

“What is it?” Sasha asked. “Can you zoom in closer?”

“This is as close as it gets.”

“That’s where the residue is coming from!” Oleander said. “There’s another one northeast! Can you find that?”

“I’ll look.” Raz steered the camera more. Sure enough, another hut was perched in the spot Oleander sensed it.

“Did they build themselves tiny houses?” Oleander asked. “How fast did they get here?”

“I don’t think those are convicts,” Sasha said. “There’s something suspicious…”

A red light flashed on the helm. Sasha flipped an array of switches with his mind and pulled up the Pelican’s schematics. An alarm was triggering in the engines where a purple meter was draining rapidly. Raz cringed at the sight. “Are we crashing again?”

“There’s a problem with the Psitanium Drive,” Sasha said. “This confirms it. We aren’t encountering convicts. This is a fence.”

“A fence?” Oleander asked.

“The monastery,” Sasha answered as if that made it clear. “Everyone strap in.”

Seatbelts clicked. The Pelican sputtered as Sasha took it into a vertical climb. The further from the fence the plane got, the slower the psitanium drained until the drive hit and held on 34%. The electric lights around them sputtered. A grating noise filled the cockpit as the engines stalled and the Pelican was left scaling upward on its own momentum.

Raz gripped the seat of his chair, his eyes wide in fear but his heart pounding with the thrill as the plane dipped onto it’s back and entered freefall. A wave of blue mental energy flashed across the windscreen. Sasha’s telekinetic hand gripped the nose and yanked the whole plane downward, completing a backflip and aiming them at the ground.

“You trying to kill us?” Oleander asked, but it didn’t earn a response.

Sasha flipped the bank of switches and the electrics came back on. The screen on Raz’s console ran startup procedures. The psitanium drive came back online. Sasha hit a button to rev the engine and activated levitation. The Pelican evened out, engines gearing up as they banked left and right through the mountains.

Oleander pressed his temples and looked behind him. “We’re inside the fence.”

“I know,” Sasha replied.

Raz released a long breath and unclenched all his muscles. The plane went silent again as Sasha wove through the crags. The low clouds parted ahead, revealing a high plateau where the monastery of Lowha Lasung perched like a vulture at the crest of the ridge.

Chapter Text

The Lowha Lasung monastery was a crumbling, windswept mound of buildings stacked into the sheer mountain like stone steps. Naked gray stone rose on the north and east sides land fell on the south and east with hardly a finger hold visible either way. The peaks of the surrounding mountains were shrouded by a ceiling of thick gray cloud. It was a foresaken spot of civilization in an untamable place. Raz swallowed a lump as the Pelican settled in the main courtyard, kicking dust and snow in a great whirlwind around its glowing Psitanium drive. Up close, the buildings had signs of geokinetic construction. Unmarred planks of rock jutted vertically from the plateau’s surface, joining at corners and forming doors and windows with mathematical precision. Spires of stone bound with rope stood high above the rest with strings of flags flapping in the high wind between them. The largest building was a temple, marked by four tall standing stones and a grand mosaic wall in the image of an open eye. A man with a walking staff appeared at the temple door. He stepped out on cloth-wrapped feet, his long white beard whipping like one of the flags from within the hood of his heavy cloak.

Sasha summoned his coat from the closet near the back and addressed his fellow passengers. “Suit up, agents. This is what we’re here for.”

Raz tossed his fur and canvas coat across the cockpit and caught it in mid-air. It was meant to survive a long Grulovian winter, but one step onto the Pelican’s gangplank proved that insufficient compared to the high-altitude Himalayan windchill. Coach Oleander had an army surplus wool jacket (cosplaying as always) which he belted on with a bandolier that was practically designed to piss off an order of pacifist monks.

Sasha went ahead of them into the wind with both hands raised in peace. "We mean no harm!"

The monk slammed his stick on the stone. He pointed to the logo on the side of the Pelican and shouted with a thick Mediterranean-sounding accent. “PSYCHONAUT!”

“We are!” Sasha called back.

“GET OFF MY MOUNTAIN!”

“We only want to talk!”

“BAH!” The old man scoffed into the wind. His reedy voice entered their minds with a hiss, as if he were standing right behind them and breathing on their necks. “We gave you our answer decades ago. No one here wants to join your little group. No outsiders!”

“We are not here for recruits,” Sasha thought back. “We would have honored your wishes but for extreme circumstances

“Is Cruller here with you?” The monk asked.

Oleander shot Raz a glance across the gangplank and asked privately. “They know Ford?”

Raz sucked his teeth. “At this point are you really surprised?

“Agent Cruller is retired,” Sasha told the monk. “I am Agent Sasha Nein, with me are Agents Oleander and Aquato. We don’t want trouble, just an audience. If allowing admittance to your monastery is unacceptable, we can have it aboard our plane – ”

“I’ll be dead before you get me on one of your vessels,” The monk said. “Fine. Come into the great hall, but I’ll take you no further.”

“We accept,” Sasha said.

The monk vanished back into the shadow of his temple. Sasha beckoned the other two to follow. Raz gulped and stuck close to Sasha as Oleander’s yellow-tinted mental hands closed the gangplank and erected a Pelican-sized shield behind them.

It was a relief to be out of the wind, but If Raz expected the inside of the temple to be warmer than the outside, he was kidding himself. The ‘great hall’ was a cavern of mentally and physically hewn stone without a single wooden plank or beam to support it. The walls were ribbed and arched giving the impression they’d been swallowed by a giant fish, with the indents between the 'ribs' so deep they were black. What rock he could see in the meager torchlight was carved with a language that wasn’t English or Mongolian. There were no chairs or tables, only a wide plinth at the head of the room where their cloaked guide stopped and began untying the multitude of hidden cords and belts holding him into his outfit. Underneath was a bony, grizzled old man dressed in hide with a long twisted white beard, a bald head, and enough hair on his eyebrows to make a toupe.

He dropped his cloak on the naked stone and sat on it like a cushion. “I am the Untainted Agrippa Pergola, abbot of this monastery and the only human face you will ever see. I’m not interested in anything you have to say, and I am displeased to be wasting my time on your nonsense. So what do you want?”

Sasha lowered his hood. “We have concerns about one of your former members.”

Pergola narrowed his eyes. “Grinsmith?”

“Horatio, yes.”

“He is dead to us,” Pergola said.

“Regardless, I’m afraid he has not forgotten the lessons he’s learned while among you. You are aware of his dueling history.”

“We are,” Pergola said. “And you know that we do not condone violence.”

“Horatio does. In fact, he has applied your teachings and theories to violence in a staggering new way.” Sasha’s voice deepened. “He has adapted your vision of tempering the soul into a triggering mechanism and amplified the power of a psychic’s mental strength into a bomb. He has already maimed and possibly killed tens of thousands of people with this technique and is currently at large intending to hurt more. The Psychonauts intend to stop him.”

Raz’s heart was pounding, but if the news affected Pergola he gave no indication. The old man sat as still as the stone beneath him. “And?”

“And?” Oleander barked. “And what are you gonna do about it!?”

“What am I going to do?” Pergola challenged. “The situation is dire,” Sasha insisted.

“It is none of our concern,” Pergola said. “Grinsmith is not a member of this order, therefore we do not acknowlege his existence. This monastery is our whole world - a pinnacle to perfection of the mind. Grinsmith existed to us for a time, but died the day he left. Our hands are clean and we will not dirty them.”

“As if!” Oleander scoffed. "Cowards!"

“Morry,” Sasha warned.

“YOU taught him everything he knows. YOU made him capable of this!” Oleander persisted. “You gotta help fix it or what kinda pacifists are you?”

"What kind of pacifists would we be if we abandoned our vows and committed bloodshed now?” Pergola said.

“But you’re letting bloodshed happen!” Oleander said.

“That is the point. We are not. We are doing nothing.”

“But people are DYING!”

”Morry!” Sasha warned more harshly.

Pergola banged his walking stick on the stone. “It is apparent you do not respect our philosophy, and as a result I will no longer entertain your delusion. Get off my mountain. Stop whatever injustice you perceive, kill whoever you want to kill, sully yourselves, but leave us alone.”

“Killing Horatio is not our goal,” Sasha appealed. “We need him alive to gain information. All we ask from you is help to prevent future killing. You won't even have to leave this mountain to do it.”

Pergola tilted his head. “Explain yourself, then.”

“Our reports confirm that you and your brothers at this monastery are masters in Weaponkinesis,” Sasha said. “Horatio has used this technique as a dueling style. We know it is complicated and deadly. We want to use a duel as a diversionary tactic, but we do not have a specialist on staff.”

“Good,” Pergola said. “You would only use it for war. This technique was developed for meditation.”

Sasha continued. “We know the duels are governed by a strict set of rules and procedures.”

“The rules are to protect the user," Pergola said. "It is a mentally-intensive skill. A practitioner - duelist or not - is as likely to kill himself as he is to kill other people. On the battlefield, these restrictions serve as a contract between participants. To break the rules of a duel is to abandon respect for life. Neither combatant is required to be civil. Desperation, rage, and bloodlust become legal, and lives become forfeit. But to duel an opponent as skilled as you… to meet an equal talent one-on-one in honorable contest is to enter a dance of death and power and mathematics that can winnow the soul down to the finest whisper. It is beautiful. They become gods.”

“This guy’s cracked,” Oleander thought to Raz.

Raz gulped.

“The qualities you’ve just mentioned are why we are here,” Sasha said. “We need a duelist of equal skill to meet Horatio in battle. Such a distraction will hold his attention long enough to infiltrate his mind and locate the triggering mechanism he uses to detonate his bombs. At this moment, he is traveling with a band of forty psychics, each with the capacity to kill an entire city full of people. They are being deployed throughout the continent and likely the broader world as well. As long as Horatio holds the detonation code, these human bombs are capable of widespread and irreversible damage. We aim to apprehend these men and disarm them, but we can't do that without Horatio alive, and we can't capture him without help.”

“You said we wouldn't have to leave our monastery,” Pergola said. “What exactly are you asking for?”

“A duelist." Oleander grunted. "Maybe you're too chicken to do it, but I'm sure one of your other monks will be willing to break an oath to save the world. Even if they won't, don’t you Weaponskinetics talk to each other? Invitational duels or something? Somebody’s gotta be able to do this for us.”

“There used to be entire schools that taught this skill,” Pergola said. “They all died off, one by one. Duels. Battles. Self–inflicted wounds. Our order has honed this practice to near perfection. Grinsmith, himself, has murdered all of the top-rated Weaponskinetics in the known world. All but us, because we refuse to engage. And we still refuse.”

“Then can you teach someone!” Raz offered. "Teach a Psychonaut how to duel?"

Pergola noticed Raz for the first time. He narrowed his eyes on Sasha. “You brouth a child here?”

“Uh…” Raz glanced at Sasha’s back, but his mentor remained firm and focused. The Junior Agent mimicked his pose. “I’m a Psychonaut.”

“Do the Psychonauts manipulate the young and innocent to fight their wars, now? Is this what Cruller has built?" He spoke to Raz for the first time. "How many deaths have you caused already, child soldier?”

"I..." Cold sweat broke on the back of his neck. Had he killed anything other than squirrels? Did mental constructs count as violence? "I mean..."

“He is not a soldier,” Sasha said. “But he is perceptive and his question is valid. If you will not raise your hand to Horatio, would you teach one of our agents to do it instead?”

“And permit access to our temple? No.”

“We don’t want to join your order,” Sasha said. “We only need the skill. Time is of the essence.”

“No.”

“This is stupid!” Oleander cried. “You call yourselves pacifists. Fine! We gave you an out! Yet you still refuse to help us. It’s not like you invented this technique. You’re just being selfish about it!”

“Bark all you want,” Pergola said. “I am the abbot. My word is final.”

“Alright,” Sasha conceded. He folded his hands behind his back. “We have laid our cards on the table, if you still refuse to engage then we will find another way to subdue Horatio. Our goal was always to prevent loss of life, but it is not our only option. We will sacrifice agents, we will miss opportunities to prevent terror, but we will succeed in the end with or without your assistance. And we can’t waste any more time than we already have.”

Raz gaped at Sasha's back, horrified at everything he'd just listed. He didn't want to sacrifice innocent people, or his fellow Psychonauts, or even their current mission. There had to be something more they could do. A spark of inspiration kindled Raz's mind. He grinned and crossed his arms. “You're right, we don’t need this guy! It was dumb to even ask - I bet he can't even do Weaponkinesis.”

Pergola’s brow furrowed.

Oleander's jaw sagged a bit at Raz's outburst. "Are you - "

Sasha quieted him with a telepathic. "Shh."

Raz's spirits rose. “I bet he said ‘no’ because he's scared. Him and all his friends are up here hiding on top of a mountain. I bet if he tried to fight Horatio, he’d get skewered in two seconds. All those oaths these monks have taken are just excuses not to clean up their own mess.”

“insolent – ” Pergola stood bolt upright. He thrust one hand out, capturing his walking stick in a halo of his silver-white mental energy. The stick spun like a propeller as it fell into orbit around him. Two-dozen other silver-laced rods and spears burst from the furrows in the walls and joined the walking staff in its path, each adopting a slightly different arc and distance until the formed a shield of rotating sticks and blades.

Raz marveled. The technique really WAS as beautiful and inspiring as Pergola said it was. The great hall glowed with the rippling light of Pergola’s mental energy. The weapons danced together – narrowly missing each other in their cycles as they gained speed and direction. Pergola, himself, never moved, yet he swelled to fill the entire hall with the power and chaos of his mind.

Pergola tightened his hands to fists and the ballet of weaponry changed configuration. The rods zippered together into a grid that parted into two walls before fanning like wings. He lifted his arms and pounded downward with both fists toward the earth. The spears slammed into each other, forming a wooden shield at each wrist. Pergola slid his back foot and shifted into a fighting stance. The three Psychonauts responded in kind, readying shields and mental attacks. Pergola smiled.

“Drop your weapons!” Sasha commanded.

The monk didn't flinch. “You Psychonauts are all the same. When Ford Cruller came here, he wanted the secret to a perfect temper, but he refused to give up his life of war and violence required to learn our ways. We are alike in one way. I may be unwilling to dirty my hands, but I will defend my home and my honor. Leave this mountain or I will remove you, myself.”

“Master!” A voice spoke in all of their heads.

Pergola’s spears rose from his wrists like a pair of silver wings. “What is it?”

“A pilgrim!” the same voice said from the entrance. A similarly old man wrapped in an equal amount of fabric stood pointing toward the courtyard. "On the steps! He's climbing!"

Pergola cursed in Greek. “Who else did you bring to accost us, Psychonauts?”

“No one!” Raz cried.

Oleander turned to Sasha. “You don’t think…”

Pergola sent his weapons back to their hidden bunkers and stormed through the cluster of Psychonauts to the frigid courtyard. The Pelican stood unmolested, protected by Oleander’s mental shield. Beneath the curve of it’s neck, a road-weary man climbed the last of the stone-hewn steps to the plateau. He was barely five feet tall, thin and shaky. He had on a puffy coat and hood with a massive mountain-climber’s backpack strapped to his chest with buckles and elastic.

Pergola carried his anger with him. “Traveler! I am abbot of this monastery! State your business!”

"This…” The traveler panted. “This is Lohwa Lasung?”

“It is,” Pergola growled.

The stranger unclipped the straps across his chest and dropped the heavy pack with a clunk. Raz advanced down the stairs, but Sasha gestured for him to stay back.

Oleander narrowed his eyes. “This guy feels funky.”

The traveler removed his mittens, reached into a pocket and pulled out a large envelope. He untied the string on the flap and reached in for a second, smaller envelope. The first one was whisked away on the high wind.

“State your business!” Pergola shouted again. “Be gone! We are not accepting pilgrims!”

“Sasha?” Raz asked, warily. The tiny traveler unzipped his coat and pulled down his muffler. Through the wind and high snow, Raz caught a glimpse of a shirt collar. Stripes like the prison uniform in Mongolia and the faint smell of fish. Raz lunged from the steps. “Stop!”

The man opened the envelope flap and exploded.

Chapter Text

All Raz could register was hurt. Forget about the headache he felt on the Pelican after the first mind bomb, forget the brain-rattling punch of being ejected from a mindscape without warning, his whole everything was just hurting like he’d been ripped into little pieces. His senses strained for input, his thoughts raced, his limbs would not respond to commands. Raz opened his eyes but nothing opened and nothing saw – he didn’t even see darkness. He gasped, but he had no lungs to draw air in. His heart should have been pounding, but there was no heart, no river of blood shooting through him, no stomach juices churning, no nerve-endings firing. There was no sense of his body at all!

Panic exponential values. This wasn’t even like that time he was just a brain. When that happened he could still at least twitch. He had something he could TK around that he could identify as “him.” And he had a sense that his body existed still, even if it was wandering around on its own operating on brainstem and nothing else. This was… this was torment.

“Okay, Raz. Keep it together,” he coached himself. “You were hit with a Mind Bomb. What did Sasha say? If I’m ever out of my body against my will, follow my thoughts back. I just have to follow my thoughts.”

Raz summoned up his psychic-training-rolodex of powers. First thing to do was find out where he was. Clairvoyance. He fought his blinding headache and sent a pulse out in all directions. Information flooded back like a salve to a burn. He spotted the purple glow of Psitanium from the jet, whiffs of orange Psilirium from the border fence, he saw his own bluish transparent hands floating in front of his face. What a relief! Just the hint of who and where he was was enough to stave off the panic. He was astrally projecting. He’d done that before. He could handle this!

He still couldn’t ‘see’ anything. Nothing purely physical registered to his Clairvoyance power unless it was touched with psychoacitve materials. He could see minds, though. Dozens of minds sailing away from the explosion. Some were more well-formed than others, but all the ones he could see were dressed in robes or homemade tunics like Pergola was. A couple of the projections were even moving, but most were frozen in shock. The ethereal wail Raz heard from the aftershock emanated from the figures as their minds screamed for context.

A flash of gold mental energy lit in the air above him. Raz spotted Oleander’s mental projection among the ghosts. He was holding the Mental Lasso Raz saw in Buxing, complete with a knotted loop that he twirled over his head like a cowboy. Oleander flung the lasso toward the purple Pistanium glow that marked the Pelican and hooked onto his abandoned body, which lit up like a Christmas light the moment it was snared. In a woosh, the coach’s mind was sucked back in, only for him to leap back out, lasso ready, and rope the mind of the nearest monk.

Blue light flashed in the distance. Sasha’s mind was even farther from the attack, sent sideways through temple and into space beyond. Raz triangulated and realized his own mind was floating downward. He was inside the mountain! The thought gave him another mental spasm, so he focused on his task.

“Follow my thoughts. Follow my thoughts.”

Raz hunted the mental landscape for a mote of free thought he recognized. Millions of thought bubbles crowded the space, but his own shimmered with a faint orange and green ripple he recognized as his natural aura. He reached out with Mental Connection skill zipped himself into the cloud. Inside, he heard his own voice repeating the mantra; “Follow my thoughts. Follow my thoughts.”

He searched for the next bubble in the line of his thoughts and anchored onto it, yanking himself idea by idea back toward his body. The train of “Follow my thoughts.” changed into “Where am I?” “What happened?” and “Help!” Raz mapped his own panic back to his prone form draped across the steps. A faint shimmer of signature orange twinkled in his head.

“Finally,” Raz thought in relief. He was pretty sure he was going to start crying the minute he got back in touch with his eyes. He tossed himself from the final thought bubble toward his glistening brain, but instead of zooming in, he sailed through it and kept going. Raz pivoted in space and connected to the first of his thought bubbles, which fittingly said “He could be a bomb!” He reeled himself in and zipped straight through his body a second time. Fresh panic ignited. He wasn’t just dementistrated, his connection to his mind was actually severed. He couldn’t get back to his body. His mind didn’t know where his body was. He was a free thought. A ghost that wasn’t actually dead.

“Keep it together, Raz,” he rallied but his thoughts were shaky. He spun again, hunting for the yellow or blue of his mentors amid the cluster of projections. He sent his thoughts out into the disembodied noise. “Agent Nien! Coach Oleander! ”

Neither replied. Raz searched his floating neighbors for flashes of psychic energy, but saw only terrified faces. Some of the stronger ones were attempting their powers – psi-blasts, shields, fists – others were treading water without progress. The weakest looking of the images hung limp. The edges of their cloaks and tips of their fingers and toes were dissolving like the edges of burning pages, their cores growing dimmer and thinner as their edges crumbled into fading motes of light. It didn’t help calm Raz down.

A pop of bright red and yellow psychic resonance kindled below him. It wasn’t the feeble whispers of the disembodied monks, this one was strong and bright and bloomed out of nowhere. The shimmer opened into a portal and a figure appeared from within. The shape darted through the inside of the mountain, running with weight and direction. The figure dashed along a stairwell that revealed itself as he went. He was a broad-shoulderd man with an unkempt beard and loose jumpsuit tied in a knot at his waist. A veil of pale orange residue drifted off him as he moved, like the Psilirium fence in the distance or the bomb before he blew.

“Hornblower!” Raz forgot his fear and reached for his thought bubble again. He hooked on to a cloud of “Where am I?” and sent himself flying straight through the temple walls to intercept the Psilirium shadow. .

Hornblower sprinted through a doorway and skidded to a stop in front of a wall. The Psilirium residue smoking from his brain and his clothes bounced off a shelving unit, revealing books and papers tucked into the alcoves. He spotted one among the rows and yanked it free. Another red and yellow portal opened and he jumped in, book in his hand. The portal closed and the room faded back into formless space.

“Rats!” Raz thought aloud. He grit his figurative teeth and reached out with Mental Connection to reel himself back where he’d come, but the toss into the void had taken him too far from his own thoughts. ”Uh oh.”

Raz reached out for other thoughts. He shot psi-blasts into the dark, but nothing could stop him from tumbling through space. Even the stone around him couldn’t drag his non-body to a stop. Raz flailed, trying to swim, or redirect, or do anything to save himself, but his launch was too good and too fast and the tiny purple dot that was the Pelican was getting further away by the second.

“Agent Nein!” Raz thought, desperately. “Coach!”

No pops of blue or yellow responded. The Pelican was shrouded by the psychic resonance of the astral monks. Raz really did wish he could cry.

“Sasha!”

Out of the dark, a loop of blue drew tight around his waist. Raz barely registered the crackle of mental energy before he was sucked backward through the dark and straight into Sasha’s mind.

Chapter Text

Raz burst through the walls of Sasha’s mind and skidded to a stop on the smooth black and white surface of the agent’s well-curated cubic mindscape. Galaxy bursts in neuron patterns pulsed in the peaceful quiet. Raz gulped mouthfuls of air, grateful for the sensation of lungs even if they were imaginary. His mind raced and all the panic and fear he’d banked while astrally-projected rushed in on him in waves. It was all he could do to keep from imaginarily throwing up all over Sasha’s nice floor.

“Razputin, what were you doing way out there?” Sasha asked. "I was looking all over for you."

The mind's owner stood casually above him, dressed in his typical suit jacket and sweater, with one hand in his pocket and the other gripping the end of a blue Mental Lasso. Raz mappped the string across the floor to his core where the loop was still pulled tight around his ribs. He tucked a finger under the lead and felt the mental energy crackle through his gloves, just like when he held the coach's lasso in Buxing.

Sasha raised his spare hand to stop him. “Leave that on. You’re not home yet.”

“Sasha!” Raz panted, his whole core shaking. He focused on the mission and reined in his nerves. "I saw Horatio!"

“You what?” He frowned. “Where?”

“He teleported into the temple! Into a library or something. I went closer to look, but he found something he wanted and teleported out again.”

“Teleported?” Sasha pondered. “Impossible. He is not registered as a teleporter, and if any of his gang was, they would still be suffering from Psilirium poisoning. They would lack the control to accomplish a full-body transferral especially from a safe difference from the Mind Bomb. Unless, of course, he had help.”

“His head was all psilirium-y and it didn’t look like he opened the portal to get out. He was waiting for it to appear,” Raz said.

“An accomplice on the outside with teleportation abilities. That narrows it down.” Sasha tapped his chin. “At the very least, hunting for him locally won’t help us anymore. We need to focus on his possible contacts…”

Raz tugging on the loose end of the lasso. “Um…”

Sasha was summoned back from his musing. “Right. Let's put you back together first.”

The surface of the cube below them shuddered and the circular panel they stood on rose from the plane. Below, blades and blocks shifted over adn around each other, maintaining the shape of the cube while realigning and reconfiguring. The geometry snapped back into place like a giant puzzle, and a tiny circle popped open, revealing Sasha’s resident yellow and orange teleporter bug.

Raz almost laughed. “You did all that for Oatmeal?”

Sasha's eyebrow arched. “Oatmeal?”

“Yeah, that’s his name.”

Sasha pressed his lips into a skeptical slant and gave Oatmeal a nod. The popper blew a bubble large enough to fit them both and sucked them out of Sasha's mind and into the Collective Unconscious.

The shared mindscape of the human race was always impressive to visit. It held every mind in the world represented by colored doors of different shapes and configurations. Raz first visited the Collective Unconscious through the Brain Tumbler in Sasha's laboratory. Back then he could only visit his own mind, but as he made new connections, those doors were linked to his through walkways and thought tethers. In the short time since Whispering Rock, his mental network had grown from himself and his teachers to a twisting ring of friends, coworkers, and even some of his family. Now that he was a Junior Psychonaut his map was larger than ever, but nothing could have prepared him for the massive atomic structure of moving paths that was Sasha's mental neighborhood.

Thousands of doors and raised walkways drifted around Sasha's central door. Some glowed brightly with lights and marquees. Others were dull and untended with a weak glow within. Many existed in clumps or tiers with a hub node or platform in their midst. Raz gaped in spite of himself. “Whoa!”

“A bit different from my perspective, isn't it?”

“Is this every mind you’ve touched?” Raz asked.

“Technically, yes. Every mind we enter generates a connection, although the strongest ones – the ones we reinforce through mental and social interaction – tend to stay close.” He guided Raz's attention along the walkway to their right and left. The most fortified and elaborate doors filled the row. Raz noted a dozen agents' doors, some with decorations, others more formal. A couple had mailboxes out front. Oleander's net-draped army-green bunker was only a couple stops away, as well as Ford's cracked frame, Milla's disco-colored studio, and Raz's own familiar tent-shaped entryway.

His heart filled with pride. “I’m so close!”

Sasha didn’t comment, but Raz could feel him warm a bit. They strolled to Raz's address. Sasha stopped him at the threshold. “Wait here. I have to go in first.”

"But it's my mind," Raz said. "Shouldn't it know who I am?"

"You have no mental tether. To your brain, you are a rogue thought. Your own censors will gang up on you. It's easier if we follow procedure."

Raz cringed. He’d never had anyone in his head without him there bfeore and the last time Sasha had peeked any deeper than a checkup, it was invaded by meat products. Raz hoped he hadn’t left anything embarrassing laying out. “Okay.”

"I'll tell you when to step through," Sasha instructed. He took his lasso in both hands and backed through the glowing entrance. Raz expected to feel something - a tingle or a snap, maybe - but his mind was still as dull and disconnected as before. The blue cord around his waist went taut, then tight. Sasha’s voice entered his mind. “Alright, step inside.”

Raz squared his shoulders. “Okay. I'm going.”

“Be warned. It’ll have a bit of a kick.”

Raz stepped through the doorway and back into his own head. The transition snapped through him in a disorienting flash. Sight, smell, sound, taste, touch, gravity, volume, cold, and pain rammed into his head like someone slamming doors in his skull. His mindscape tunneled and expanded around him so fast he was thrown out of his head and back to the frozen plateau, chilled to the bone with a massive headache. “Ahh!”

“I warned you,” Sasha said aloud.

“Ahh!” Raz groaned again. He pressed his pounding temples between his hands. “Now I really am gonna throw up.”

“Are you two done yappin’?” Oleander barked, arms folded. “I’ve got sixty-five random monks in my head and I’d like to get them out.”

“Of course.” Sasha unzipped the front panel of his winter coat and tugged out a psi-portal. “Pergola first?”

“Please? He’s starting to piss me off.”

Sasha waved his hand toward the mound of fur and snow that was the abbot of Lowha Lasung and carried it back to the temple to escape the elements. Raz was glad to be out of the wind. His head was killing him, and his body felt sluggish and feverish. He shivered as Sasha laid the mound out flat, revealing Pergola staring blank-eyed and slack-jawed into the middle distance. Sasha's psi-portal fit itself onto the monk’s forehead. The door's gray and orange pattern was distinctly "Sasha," although different from the red and blue one Raz had stolen from him weeks ago. The door on Pergola's forehead popped open and Sasha astrally-projected himself inside. Oleander pressed his fingers to his temple and turned his thoughts inward. Raz waited in the quiet, stomping his feet for warmth and hoping against hope that his headache would subside. He cleared his throat. It echoed a million miles. “Hey coach?”

“Not now, kid, I’m concentrating.”

“Do you really have all these monks in your head right now?”

“I grabbed as many as I could. Pretty sure I got ‘em all.”

“Isn’t that crowded?”

“Like you wouldn't believe.”

The body on the ground drew a sudden breath. Sasha’s projection bounced out and his portal returned to his hand. Pergola sat forward wheezing and panting like a tired mule. “That bastard!”

"Welcome back," the coach snorted.

Pergola ignored him. “Grinsmith Horatio! You shameless monster!”

“Do you see now why we needed your help?” Sasha asked.

“He warped our core tenant,” Pergola continued. “To reach the perfect temper is to find peace and separation. Your mind from your body. Yourself from the world. He stole that moment from me! He snapped my soul in two!”

“Easy now," Sasha warned. "You’ve had quite a shock.”

“My brothers!” Pergola’s face fell. “You have to restore them! Their souls...”

“We have them all safe,” Sasha said. “We will tether them back to their bodies, don't worry.”

“In exchange for my help, is that right?” Pergola rose shakily, teeth bared. “You’re holding them hostage!”

“No, we will restore them regardless of your cooperation,” Sasha assured. “We aren’t the type of organization you assume. We use our abilities to help prevent harm wherever and whenever we are able. The threat Horatio poses is not something we can allow. I hope now you see why.”

“Sir.” Raz stepped forward. “We understand it’s against your beliefs to harm people. We don’t want to hurt people either, but we will do what we have to. That's why we came here. We hoped you'd agree with that. We're all fighting for the same thing.”

“Will you help us?” Oleander asked.

“No,” Pergola said, more defeated than obstinate. “No, I cannot.”

“Will you teach us, then?” Raz asked. "Like we said before, we just need to duel him. We aren't going to use it for evil."

Pergola drew a slow breath and deflated against his walking stick. “I will teach one person. One only.”

“Great! Raz said. “When do we start?”

“I won’t teach a child.”

“Nor would we allow you to,” Sasha said. “You’ll teach me.”

Pergola gave him a head-to-toe assessment and pouted, doubtful. “You will have to unlearn all of these precious skills you've cultivated. It will be hard and I won't be lenient. Are you prepared for that?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s agreed.”

Sasha nodded. “We know how protective you are of your knowledge and your monastery. We will enter your temple only long enough to repair the minds of your brothers, then my associates will fly back to our outpost and I will remain here for your training.”

“No,” Pergola said. “Restore my monks but no one stays. I will leave with you.”

“You'd leave?” Raz asked. “After everything you've fought so hard for? Why?”

“Because you are not of our order,” Pergola said. “And now that I’ve agreed to this, neither am I.”

Chapter Text

Raz, Sasha, Oleander, and Pergola moved through the icy halls of the Lowha Lasung monastery, searching for bodies. The Geokinetics visible on the surface continued into the mountainside, giving the whole monastery an ‘ant-farmy,’ tunnelly feel. The halls wound up and down through the mountain in spirals. No steps, no windows except those at the surface. Branching pathways angled up or down through the stone in root-like with chambers ballooning off wherever the need arose. The curved walls were lit by candles in sconces. Raz could feel a trace of Psitanium in the wax. The mountain must have had a deposit in it somewhere - somewhere too deep to occupy, but deep enough to mine. The fumes of burning particles caused a buzzing, anxious feeling, but Raz could feel his psychic strength spiking with each one he passed. He wondered if it made recovering the minds of the brothers easier. Every limp body they found face-down or slumped against the walls took a couple minutes to sort out. Oleander was the Lassoist, which kept him on the outside. They would find a brother, ask Pergola his name, then send Sasha in for the hand-off.

In one chamber they came across four monks asleep in a half-prepared meal. Pergola used his silver-gray telekenetic hand to lift a bearded man out of a bowl of barley flour and shake him. The monk coughed a cloud of dust.

"Okay, who are these ones?" Oleander asked.

"Brothers Talamud, Bobinski, Athers, and DuPre."

"Ugh." The coach rubbed his temples. "I ain't gonna remember all that." He reached into one of his bandolier pouches and pulled out a pad of yellow sticky notes. "Tell me again."

Pergola's brow leveled. "Talamud, Bobinski, Athers, and Dupre."

"Gotcha." Oleander wrote each name on a note and slapped it to the corresponding forehead. "'Kay Sasha, you're up."

Sasha's psi-portal whizzed to the flour monk, but Raz stopped him before he could leap through. "Can I help?"

"Are you asking to tie off some tethers?" Sasha considered. "Hmm, I suppose. You have done it before, after all."

"No!" Pergola cut in.

Raz jumped at his intensity. "Why not?"

"No more minds touched than necessary!" Pergola said. "Especially not a child! It's bad enough these men have to deal with the two of you, I won't allow some boy to taint them further."

"Rasputin is a Psychonaut agent," Sasha replied. "He's more than professional - "

"I'm still abbot and I say no," Pergola snarled. "Now get this over with."

Sasha shook his head with a shrug and leaped out of his body. Raz pouted and sulked.

Kitchen monks done, they finished the upper branches and headed into the deep. Within the mountain the pathways were darker and narrower. Sasha had to duck in places, especially through the doorways which were more hole-shaped and less refined than the more architectural structures up top. Most the spaces down here were sleeping quarters. The monks possessed little and decorated even less and finding limp bodies on stone slabs felt an awful lot like walking through some ancient catacomb. It was getting warmer inside, too. Raz wondered if there was a furnace or a tap into volcanic gasses or something until they came across a body with his hair smoking and revealed it was pyrokinetic.

It felt like they'd been walking forever by the time they reached the lowest chambers. The gaggle of minds in Oleander's holding pen was dwindling, but so was everyone's patience. All of the monks were psychic, so thankfully they didn't need a lot of post-op care. Half woke up dazed and were left to sort their own minds out where they fell. Those that didn't rise on their own were awakened before leaving them. Lowha Lasung didn’t have a wealth of smelling salts in storage, so after the first two dozen or so patients used up the stores the Psychonauts had on hand, the method of revival switched to a swift slap to the face. Pergola volunteered for this duty, although Raz suspected Oleander would have enjoyed it.

The venture ended in the library where twenty monks and librarians sat slumped in their chairs.

"This should be the last of them," Oleander announced. "Finally."

Pergola led him around, making identifications that were transferred to forehead-notes. Raz turned his attention to the space. It was definitely the same room he'd seen Horatio appear in. The graded entrance, the shelves, even the ceiling were familiar, although the Psilirium RADAR pings he'd sensed hadn't revealed the sheer number of dust-covered books. There were thousands on stone shelves and racks including oversized atlases, twine-wrapped scrolls, and flaking leather-bound epics. Nearly every genre or topic Raz could think of was present, and every other spine had a different language or alphabet printed on them. There was even a shelf of romance novels.

Sasha pulled Raz aside. “Where did you see Horatio appear?”

“Over here… I think.” Raz jogged the head of Horatio's path. “He teleported in back here and he ran this direction and stopped around here.”

Raz found himself in front of one of the oldest collections. The books were all stitch-bound, but the covers were faded and the paper was yellowed and curling. Sasha stood behind him and scanned the higher shelves. He reached out and tapped his finger in a suspiciously dustless gap. "Fascinating."

“Nein!” Oleander called from the stacks. “Where are ya? Get over here!”

“Show Pergola this space,” Sasha told Raz. “Watch his reaction. Hopefully he'll identify what's missing without a fuss.”

“Yes, sir!” Raz saluted.

Sasha left to assist Oleander and was soon replaced by the abbot who was crabbier and more impatient than ever. “Don’t touch anything.”

“Mr. Pergola, sir,” Raz said. “What do you keep on this shelf?”

“These are the sacred texts of our order,” Pergola said. “They are writings passed down from scholar to scholar to help us reach our final goal.”

“What is your final goal, exactly?” Raz asked. “Agent Nein tried to explain it to me. Something about the soul?”

“You are too young to petition to our order, so you’re not to know our secrets.”

“Okay, sure,” Raz said. “Would reading these books tell me? Because while I was astrally projected into your mountain I spotted Horatio teleport in here and steal something off this shelf.”

“You what?” Pergola cried. “Why did no one tell me!”

“I just did,” Raz said. “It was in that gap up top. Can you see it?”

Pergola’s liver spotted face went red. “Vile betrayer. That cretin. That Philistine. He would have killed all his brothers for the Arcana.”

“Arcana?” Raz asked. “You mean like... magic?”

“No. Lars Arcana," Pergola said. "Our founding member. He was the only person in the history of the world to attain a perfect temper. We followers have sought to emulate his accomplishment for centuries, but none have succeeded. The book that was taken was his personal journal.”

“Why would Hornblower risk so much and cause so much damage to get a journal?”

“As a psychic you must know the importance of seeing another's thoughts," Pergola said. "To achieve a perfect temper is to fully exist in all parts of the self simultaneously. Wholly in the body, wholly in the mind. Wholly in between. And in being so, we relieve the tension between the elements. No more are we governed by conflict within ourselves. We are able to exist in perfect harmony and perfect separation.”

“And perfect Mind Bombing?” Raz prompted.

“Not if it’s done correctly.”

“What about the Weaponkinesis technique?” Raz asked. “Does the journal talk about that?”

“Bah,” Pergola spat. “Weaponkinesis. What an artless name.”

“What do you guys call it?”

“It is the crucible for the mind. A tempering meditation.” Pergola swept his bony hand toward the sky. “All the tension within ourselves is present in the technique. The space between the weapons, the patterns with which they move, the line the practitioner walks between life and death. To perform this skill is to take your life into your own hands. Many the unfortunate monk I’ve watched draw so close to a breakthrough only to stab themselves in the back with a fork.”

Raz gulped. “So you don’t fight each other with it the way Hornblower does?”

“Oh no, we do that, too.”

“Is that another level of the meditation?”

“No, we do it because we’re bored,” he said. “Apart from meals and lessons, there’s not a lot to do up here. And in an order of sixty-five persons, we do tend to butt heads. There’s only a handful of ways for men to blow off steam, you know.”

Raz paused to suck his teeth. “Did you try playing cards?”

“Ahh!” Oleander appeared, cracking his knuckles. “Alone at last!”

“Razputin,” Sasha said. “Did you find anything?”

“Yes, apparently Horblower stole a journal,” Raz said. “Mr. Pergola was just telling me — ”

“Wait? Hornblower was HERE?” Oleander cried. “In the monastery?”

“Yes, he teleported in during the Mind Bomb’s aftermath,” Sasha said.

“Aha!” Oleander poked a finger into Sasha’s chest. “I TOLD you so, Nein! I knew he'd be waiting for us up here! What do you have to say about THAT?”

“I would say there is a distinct difference between seeking refuge in Lowha Lasung and committing sixty-nine counts of attempted murder to acquire a book, but I yes concede. He was here when we got here.”

“Hah!” Oleander grinned wide enough to split his whole face. “You hear that, Raz? The gut prevails!”

Sasha rubbed his eyes behind his glasses and willed himself back to a more professional tone. “The journal he took. Would its contents justify the prison break and destruction of Fanrong?”

“To us, it is our most important scripture,” Pergola said. "A city the size of Fanrong has nothing to do with it. No one but we know it exists at all, but members of this order would die for it, that I can assure you."

Oleander frowned. “And you just keep it up here on a shelf?”

“It’s in alphabetical order,” Pergola replied.

“We should add recovery of this book to our list of tasks on this mission," Sasha determined. "Perhaps reading it will shed light on Horatio's broader plan.”

“You will not set eyes the sacred pages of Arcana!” Pergola roared.

"Fine." Sasha dropped his head into his hand. ”I think we're done here.”

“I need to speak to my people,” Pergola said. “They should know that I’m going and why I cannot return once I do. I’ll need to name a successor.”

“You have half an hour,” Sasha said.

“What? You insolent – ” Pergola gripped his walking stick with frustration. “Two hours.”

"Forty-five minutes."

"Deal."

“Good. We'll prepare the ship.” Sasha said. “Raz – ”

“Don’t tell me to stay here, he’s not going to let me,” Raz replied.

Sasha pressed his lips and started again. “Oleander and I need to take care of the victim on the plateau. I’d rather you not be a part of it.”

Blood drained from Raz’s face. “The… victim?”

“Yes.”

“The mind bomb victim? The head-exploded victim?”

“That’s right.”

“Are you going to bury him?”

“Unfortunately,no. His body could answer some of our questions,” Sasha said. “We will gather what we can of his belongings and bring him with us back to Fanrong.”

“Does he…” Raz struggled to swallow, his throat gone dry. “Does he have to ride in the cabin?”

Sasha’s posture eased. “It’ll be discrete.”

“Can’t put him in cargo! At the heights we’ll be going, he’ll freeze like a popsicle.” Oleander laughed. He caught a look at Raz’s greenish face and clapped him on the back. “Don’t stress out, kid! It’s not like he can blow up on us, he doesn’t have a head anymore!”

The coach chortled his way up the hallway. Raz lagged behind, hugging his elbows and dared to let his thoughts return to the moment the bomb detonated. The little man in the prison outfit arrived on the plateau alone. He walked an arduous path through the rocks, past the pislirium fencing, and up a million steps to get to Lowha Lasung, only to decapitate himself... and for what? Was it part of Hornblower's hypnotism? Was he puppeted up the steps? He seemed cogent when he arrived. He was even talking. Horatio could have had blackmail on him or something, but then why not appeal to these monks for help? If all of this was for Hornblower to get his hands on a book, the monks knew where the book was and would fight to protect it. They could stage an ambush, or reinforce their anti-psychic barriers, or do something to contain Horatio when he teleported to the mountain. Instead, the man willingly reached into his coat, opened an envelope, and died. The thought gave Raz chills. His family were refugees of war. His Nona was responsible for countless innocent deaths, possibly just as many as Horatio, yet somehow these concepts still felt unreal. It as if the tragedy of Maligula was too big for Raz to process other than as a story. Even seeing the bodies in Buxing, and being caught in the bomb's blast felt like something that could be undone and made better. A beheading though… that was permanent. Milla's words about the Deluginists returned to him again. People will do anything for an idea if the believe in it hard enough. What did the prisoners believe in that would make them do such a thing?

He emerged from the depths with Sasha and Oleander. They stepped onto the plateau with hoods up and coats zipped. The sun had set while they were underground, and it was colder and windier than ever. The Pelican was parked as they’d left it, although Raz noticed Oleander’s protective shield was down. It was probably blown off when the coach was ejected from his body, and once he became Lasso-jockey, he'd been too busy to reapply it. Snow was heaped against the landing gear, giving the jet a shackled look. It felt vulnerable. What if another prisoner was hiding on it? Or Horatio himself? The purple Psitanium light illuminated the prisoner’s backpack where he’d left it. The body just beyond. Raz tugged his hood to cover his eyes and stayed in the monastery's decorative doorway, his mind filled with headless prisoners, mindless monks, and bodies floating in Grulovian water.

Chapter Text

There were no signs of other intruders on the courtyard, so Raz moved from the lifeless cold of the monastery to the bright lights of the Pelican. He sat at the pilot’s console, watching the onboard temperature rise a degree at a time while Sasha and Oleander worked to stow the body of the dead prisoner. The pillow-lined meditation zone in back was shifted to the starboard side and the headless man and his luggage were secured against the port side near the bathroom. The corpse's name was Evan Durak. He was a criminal arsonist from the Republic of Georgia responsible for at least five deaths. Raz wasn't sad to be without him, still knowing his dead body was in the same room made his skin crawl. Sasha promised it would be discrete, and for all intents and purposes it was. The body was wrapped in tarps and zipped into a body bag that looked a lot like a gym duffel. He was short for a grown man to begin with, and without a head he was even shorter. The parcel wasn't even human-shaped except for the feet poking up. They stowed his massive backpack on top and covered the whole thing with a canvas blanket secured it to the wall with cargo belts.

Raz glanced back periodically, but kept his eyes largely focused on the on-board readout screen in front of him and didn't move until Sasha was standing at his side. “Are you all right, Razputin?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

“Everything is secured. You don’t have to worry about him it until we’re back with the others.”

“Okay.”

Sasha shifted his stance. Raz stared back at the console, embarrassed to be so emotional about some guy he’d never met and didn't like, but the death still got to him somehow as if being close to it left a stain on him.

Sasha remained casual. “Unfortunately, tragedy is not uncommon when we deal with villains like this. Fanrong, Buxing, here… I know you are precocious, but you can see why Truman and the rest of us limit your involvement in missions. The comic books and magazines don’t show every part of our job. This is a dangerous career you’ve chosen. People can get hurt. So can we. That’s why it’s important that we look out for each other both at headquarters and in the field.”

Raz bowed his head. “I know you’re sorry you brought me.”

Sasha paused. “Did I say that?”

“No, but you feel it. I can tell.”

Sasha took a long breath, then sat the other captain’s seat and propped his elbows on his knees. Raz swiveled his chair, expecting a lecture or a dressing down, but found Sasha's brow knit. The Psychonaut folded his hands in front of him and took another breath. “I do not regret bringing you on this trip. I regret only that you’ve been put in harsher situations than I intended. I am sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.”

“You are still young, Razputin. There is a lot still left to learn. I only hope what you’ve seen and heard so far on this trip can be a pathway to deeper and more critical thinking. My goal was to challenge you, not traumatize you. If this is too much, or you are ready to go home, I will send you back right away.”

“No, no, I want to help!” Raz pressed. “It just got REAL suddenly. It’s not like I don’t know that people die sometimes. Or that people’s heads explode. Dogen’s blown up like four people already.”

Sasha’s eyebrow twitched. “Not something to aspire to, by the way.”

“I’m just saying, I fought Maligula. I'm able to handle dangerous stuff,” Raz said. “I’m SUPPOSED to be able to handle it. I’m a Psychonaut, after all.”

“Junior Psychonaut.”

“That just means I’m new, that doesn’t mean I’m not tough,” Raz said. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, I trust you,” Sasha said. “Remember, your teachers are here for you. If you need to talk, or need help with a nightmare, or something’s stirring in your mind that you’d like us to look at, you can come to us any time you need to.”

“I will.” Raz sighed. “Thanks, Sasha.”

“Company’s coming,” Oleander announced. Pergola was making his way across the courtyard carrying a heavy rucksack and wearing what looked like four shirts, three sets of pants, and the most worn out boots Raz had ever seen (which is saying something because his dad’s boots had full-on holes in them.)

The gangplank opened and the monk dragged himself aboard with both hands on his walking stick. In full light, he looked even more frail and wasted than he had in the temple. Every bone and knob stood out from his skin like a gnarled tree. His long beard was white but also thinning badly in patches. His eyes, now visibly brownish, were sunken into heavy bags. He pulled down his hood and squinted into the onboard lights. “Cursed modern technology.”

“At least there’s heat.” Oleander snorted.

“Corporate, artificial comfort,” Pergola said. “What kind of crucible caters to your whims?”

“This is a plane.”

“The world is a crucible for the soul,” Pergola said. “We didn’t plant our monastery on the top of a mountain to heat it. Suffering builds character.”

“Sure, dad.” Oleander gestured toward the end of the plane with the corpse stowed in it. “Won’t you make yourself at home.”

“I will. And don’t expect me to treat it any differently than my own quarters. I am not a guest. I am here under unfortunate circumstances and I refuse to become secularized as a result.”

“Understood,” Sasha said simply.

The old man dropped his rucksack on top of the prisoner’s body and settled in. No one said anything.

“Engaging Psitanium lift,” Sasha announced. “Everyone prepare for takeoff.”

“Good, let’s get off this frozen rock,” Oleander said. He gestured for Raz to get out of his seat and swung into the co-pilot’s spot. Raz hopped into the neighboring chair and buckled in, the Pelican rumbleing to life all around him. A thin veil of ice fell from the porthole windows as the engines spun up and the jet rose vertically from the courtyard, spinning in place before shooting off to retrace their path through the mountains.

Hours passed in the dark terrain. Raz knew he should probably sleep, but had too much on his mind to settle in. Instead, he went back to looking at bank account readouts and hoped the blur of numbers would push him over the edge. The clock read three in the morning. Horatio had been at large for two days and was already so destructive. Raz wished he could have stopped him in Lowha Lasung when he popped into the library. He was a handful of meters away from their number-one target, but too astrally-projected to do anything about it. Raz focused his doubt and worry into determination. The Psychonauts would catch this guy, that was for sure. They had a Weaponkinesis expert and a plan. All they had to do was find him, and Raz could help with that. He highlighted another line of numbers and glanced back toward the bathrooms where Pergola was meditating cross-legged on the floor.

Without an arsenal of weapons, he’d opted to juggle the stack of pillows piled in back. The plush squares rotated around him, dancing with each other or spinning on their own axiis as they charted paths around his seated form. The show lacked the impact of the spear display, but it was still beautiful in its own way. Raz was never a math whiz, but he could tell by the arcs and near-misses that there was complex and intentional geometry going on. The pillows arced over and under, barely missing each other without a bend or wobble in their pattern. Pergola conducted it all with his eyes closed and his hands on his crossed legs with palms open skyward. Raz imagined Sasha in Pergola's place, using this advanced new skill to duel a world-threatening killer. The comic book version was going to be epic.

The Pelican escaped the range and returned to clear airspace. Oleander’s readout screens cleared of snow. Indicators flashed as messages poured in. Sasha switched the jet to autopilot and opened his own display to check the incoming. Sasha opened and closed each one in rapid succession, speed-reading with pauses on number-dense sections. The earliest messages were timestamped from before they even reached Lowha Lasung with dozens mapping updates through the afternoon and evening. A couple were from the Motherlobe, some straight from Grand Head Zonatoo, several were from Fanrong HQ including one from Otto’s private email that read simply “Back!” with nothing else in the body. Sasha scrolled past it without opening it, his brow furrowed behind his glasses. The two fingers of his right hand were buried deep in the skin of his temple.

“What are you looking for?” Raz asked.

“A report from Buxing.”

“You mean a report from Milla,” Raz said.

Sasha didn’t answer, but his silence said enough. The vein in the side of his neck was bulging a little.

The coach tapped a button on his console. “Message from HQ.”

Sasha grunted. “What does it say?”

“Another bomb detonated.”

Sasha dropped his hand. “Where?”

“South America,” Oleander said. “Some place called. Azaroso.”

“But why?” Raz asked. “How!?”

“Hornblower’s terrorist allies must have taken in the whole bunch,” Oleander said. “We already know they have a teleporter. They’re probably all over the world by now.”

“When did the Arazoso bomb go off?” Sasha asked.

“Argentina time? 1am.”

“So ten this morning,” Sasha checked his watch and corrected himself. “Yesterday morning.”

“Truman’s called Hollis off her vacation to man the recovery there.” Oleander said. “They’ve pulled a bunch of agents out of Fanrong to help, too.”

Sasha shook his head. “They're scattering us.”

“This Argentina town, Azaroso, was more rural so not as many people per square mile as Fanrong and Buxing, but footprint-wise it’s right on the money. We should be able to calculate the area of effect of one of these bombs by comparing the three.”

“That would be helpful for records, but little aid at the moment,” Sasha said. “We can barely sustain the manpower to do what we are doing now, let alone station an agent in every city of comparable size all over the world.”

“So much for preventing further attacks,” Oleander said. “This is an embarrassment. We should have nuked him after Siberia.”

“Please, Morry, not now.” Sasha turned back to his inbox. “Can you find a report on Buxing.”

“I see Otto’s official. Do you want the stats?”

“Go ahead,” Sasha said. “Milla’s not answering me.”

“You mean telepathically, right?” Raz asked. “Can you guys talk now? Even at this distance?”

Sasha glanced over his shoulder. “Distance means nothing in the collective unconscious.”

“I wouldn’t worry. She’s been busy!” Oleander said, scrolling the message. “Of the 10,000 victims in Buxing, we only lost 28. The survivors are in the care of Republic authorities. There’s going to be a lot of therapy in their future, but their minds were saved. Kudos to her.”

“She IS very impressive,” Sasha agreed.

“They were still in Buxing when the South America bomb lit,” Oleander said. “Maybe she’s not answering your mental phone tag because she’s in Azaroso? It is her home turf down there.”

“Argentina and Brazil are two different countries.”

“Yeah, but like, it’s her native language and stuff.”

“While Milla DOES speak Spanish, you forget Brazil speaks Portuguese.” Sasha closed the messages. “Something’s wrong. I’m phoning ahead.”

“At 3am?” Oleander asked.

“Someone will be on coms,” Sasha depressed the radio transmission button on his console. “Fanrong, this is Pelican. Status report please.”

The radio crackled. A woman Raz didn't recognize came on. “Pelican, we read. Were you successful?”

“Moderately.” He glanced back at Pergola and pressed the button again. “We have cleared the Himalayas and are headed your way.”

“Belay that,” the woman said. “I have a high-priority transmission from the Grand Head. He says in the case of success, he wants you to return to HQ.”

He steeled. “We will go by way of Fanrong.”

“No. Directly,” The woman replied. “He was insistent.”

“Why so urgent?” Oleander asked. “We already know about the third site.”

“I’m not authorized to discuss it over open coms.”

“Tell me,” Sasha interrupted. “Is Agent Vodello in Fanrong?”

The line went quiet for a moment. The woman came back on. “That's classified.”

Sasha stiffened. “She’s my partner, I should know if she’s there or not.”

“It’s Grand Head Zonato’s classification, Agent Nein, not mine,” the woman said. “Proceed to HQ. Fanrong out.”

Sasha’s fist balled on the arm of his chair. Oleander raised his voice an octave. “Now don’t freak out. It probably means she’s in Argentina, just like I said. You heard ‘em. They can’t say it on the radio.”

Sasha exhaled through his nose and reached for the radio again. “I’m calling Truman.”

He dialed in the numbers but before he could transmit, the ‘incoming’ light flashed on the radio panel. The number wasn’t the Motherlobe or Fanrong HQ. Sasha’s hand hovered over the panel. He slid away from “transmit” and clicked “receive.”

“This is the Pelican.”

“Agent Nein!”

Raz recognized THAT voice. He hopped off his seat. “Morris?”

“Raz! Good, you’re there, too,” Morris Martinez, Junior Psychonaut and pirate radio DJ, whispered through the speakers. Raz could hear nerves in his normally confident voice. “I’ve been trying to contact your plane for hours.”

“What’s happened?” Sasha asked. “Where are you?”

“I’m in Fanrong,” Morris said. “Otto brought us in as backup.”

“Guess he got his way after all,” Oleander grunted.

“Agent Nein,” Morris persisted. “It’s Milla.”

Sasha paused a tense breath but stayed even-toned. “What’s happened?”

“She’s… something’s wrong with her. She came in to help us mindsweep and now she's in… I don’t know what you’d call it, a trance I guess? I can see her on the security cameras. No one's allowed in there and the brass can't get her out of it. I’m worried she's gonna hurt herself or something.”

“She's still on site?” Sasha said.

“Yeah, here at the main building.”

“We’re on our way.” Sasha said. “ETA two hours.”

“Faster if you can make it,” Morris said. “Martinez out.”

Sasha didn’t bother placing his call to the Motherlobe, he opened the engine panel and clicked off ‘autopilot.’ Oleander gaped at him from the other captain’s chair. “Get there in two hours? It’s a four-hour flight.”

“I’m overspinning the engines.”

“That’s gonna burn all the fuel we have!”

“We can get more in Fanrong.”

“Sasha,” Oleander leaned toward him over the console. “I get why you’re doing this, but don't forget, Milla’s a professional. You and I both know exactly what this is, she’s worked herself too hard. She gets scary-looking when she's overcooked like that. Morris doesn't know what he's seeing. She's fine. If something goes bad, she'll need medics not us, and the best psychic specialists are already there with her. Truman ordered us back to HQ. Hornblower’s our priority. What have you been saying all along about the good of the world before the rest?”

Sasha glared across the console at him.

Oleander raised his hands. "I'm just sayin' don't lose your focus."

"We’re psychic, Morry. We can do two things at once," Sasha said. "If Truman wanted us back to HQ, he should have messaged us directly not put up these infuriating roadblocks. He knows about this.”

“He’s the Grand Head of the Psychonauts.”

“And it's my call.”

“You’re going to get yourself demerits,” Oleander said. “Hollis will pull your funding.”

“Fine. More time to practice knife spinning.” Sasha finished his calculations and rose from his seat. “I need twenty minutes. Fetch me if it’s an emergency.”

“But… Sasha…” Raz appealed, but could only watch his mentor march past. With the back of the plane occupied, the superstar agent had no choice but dodge a flying pillow and ungracefully lock himself in the bathroom. Raz grimaced and turned his questioning glance to the coach. Oleander grimaced back and opened the pilot controls at his station. The Pelican’s engines were warning-light red. The coach didn’t touch them.

Chapter Text

Sasha returned to his seat after exactly twenty minutes and spent the next hour checking the accumulated mail. Raz didn’t know how Sasha could concentrate on messages when Raz’s own mind was trapped on a hamster wheel of worst-case scenarios. He was worried about the victims in Argentina, and Hornblower's location and where he'd strike next, but he was also worried about Milla – and specifically about how worried SASHA was about Milla. Sasha always said she could handle anything. What was happening to make him defy the Grand Head’s direct orders? He respected both Truman's authority as Grand Head and Truman as a person, he also knew the stakes of their mission and he still chose Fanrong.

While Raz was learning levitation, he had taken an unauthorized peek at Milla’s traumatic memories. She had a history of crippling nightmares, but the Psychonauts knew what to do with nightmares. And if she needed assistance the average Psychonaut couldn't give, why would Truman hide it from Sasha - the one person in the whole organization who knew her the best? Unless it was already too late, and Truman was trying to keep Sasha on task until he could break the bad news in person. Bile crept up Raz’s throat, but he tamped it back down. Morris wouldn’t have called if there was nothing they could do. He was Milla’s intern before he became Junior Agent, he knew the rhythm of her mind. Perhaps it was a little selfish of them compared to the fate of the wider world, but Raz agreed that if Milla needed their help, they needed to be there.

The sun was rising as the Pelican bore down on Fanrong. It was a much larger city than Buxing – dotted with multi-story buildings and laced with elevated highways, river traffic, and train tracks. Military helicopters asended and descended throughout the city, thier blades stirring ribbons of smoke from extinguished fires. Flashes of color burst from tiny patches in the distant suburbs but overall, the city looked normal on the outside. The Pelican slowed its approach and didn’t bother to hail HQ. The "incoming"light flashed on the dashboard. Oleander punched it with his fist.

“Pelican, what are you doing here?” Otto asked.

“I think you know very well what we’re doing here,” Sasha replied.

“I think I know very well what you should be doing INSTEAD."

“Where are we landing?” Sasha insisted.

“Go on to the Motherlobe, Sasha, we have things handled here.”

“There’s not enough Psitanium left on board to cross the Pacific. We are landing either way, just tell me where.”

“Fine, fine,” Otto conceded, but didn’t sound disappointed. “Tell Truman I tried. Coordinates incoming.”

“Why are we stopping?” Pergola asked.

It was the first time the monk had spoken since coming aboard. His halo of pillows hovered in the air. His eyes were red-rimmed and irritated. Sasha’s jaw flexed a moment before answering their passenger in peak professional tone. “Just a pitstop. Personnel recovery, then we’ll be on our way.”

“I did not enter this terrible machine to sit idle,” Pergola said. “How long will it be?”

“If it’s what I suspect, not long,” Sasha replied.

“What do you think is wrong, Sasha?” Raz asked. “Is Milla in danger?”

Sasha relaxed a smidgen. Asking for information worked again. “Do you remember what I told you at the end of my training course?”

“Never speak of this again?”

“Before that.”

“When you lose control of your own mind it’s hard to get it back,” Raz recited.

“You’ve seen Milla absent her mind. You have even seen her under Psilirium delusion. But you have not seen her at the other end of the spectrum. At her mental limit.”

Raz couldn’t help but marvel at the thought. Her comic book moniker ‘The Mental Minx’ was earned in True Psychic Tales through charm and cunning, but also through amazing feats of psychic power – flying faster than planes, lifting amazing weights with her mind, masking her presence in a room through mass hypnosis. She was a legend.

“Milla is one of the most powerful psychics the Psychonauts has ever had,” Sasha said. “Long ago, when she first joined us, she was untaught and untested. She didn’t know when to hold back. She’s learned since, but in circumstances like Buxing, and considering the amount of work she’s tackled in a short amount of time….”

Raz swallowed hard “So it’s not that she wasn’t answering your calls because she was working too hard?”

Sasha bowed his head. “She isn’t answering my calls because she can’t hear me over the noise.”

Landing coordinates appeared on the screen and Sasha fed them into the console. The Pelican rerouted to an office building at the heart of the city. The roads below were full of human activity both military and psychic. A Chinese police helicopter rose off the pad on the roof and the Pelican took its place. Sasha disengaged the engines and popped open the gangplank. “The ship is yours, Morry. I leave refueling and resupply to you.”

Oleander gestured to the rear of the plane. “What about the corpse?”

“He can stay on the plane.”

“And the dead body?”

“He can stay on the plane, too.” Sasha summoned a folder of papers to his hand and jogged to the gangplank. Razputin, keep up!”

Raz sprinted across the helipad to the rooftop access door. Three gray-clad agents burst from below. They met Sasha with questions but he slipped through their midst. Raz cringed an apology to them and followed him down.

The office building was decorated in a stiff modern style. Bits of metal sculpture hung on the walls, chairs with polished metal legs gathered dust twelve feet from each other. Most of the top floor was a ballroom with one wall full of windows and another full of mirrors. Sharp beams of sunlight lanced through the former and reflected off the latter, making the room so bright Raz had to squint through his fingers. When his eyes adjusted, he found himself in the Psychonauts’s Fanrong HQ. Folding tables and borrowed furniture crowded the center of the ballroom, stacked with monitors and draped with power cords and data cables. Curtains and blankets shrouded the far corner where an elaborate observation center was cobbled together in a way only Otto Mentallis could have managed.

The man, himself, stood at the center. He turned from his cluster of CCTV feeds and communication readouts to meet Sasha face to face. “Nein.”

“Otto,” Sasha said. “Where is she?”

“Downstairs. Let me brief you.”

“Can we do it enroute? Time is an issue.”

“Hey there, Raz!” a voice interrupted from behind Otto’s back.

Raz cringed with a glance at Sasha and leaned around the two to see. “Hi, Gisu.”

Gisu Neruman waved from a rollie office chair where she was in charge of a bank of televisions. Her head was covered in her usual scarf, and her feet were propped up by her levitating skateboard. A young man stood beside her. Raz’s jaw fell all the way open.

“Dion!?”

“Hey, Pooter,” Raz’s older brother snorted. “You look like you’ve been mucking out elephant stalls.”

“What – ? How are you – ? Why?” Raz felt like he was dreaming. “What are you doing here?”

“Gisu brought me,” he said. “Otto called her up last night – or I guess this morning, here? With the time difference? Whatever. We just got here a couple of hours ago.”

“But you’re not a Psychonaut. You're not cleared for this mission,” Raz said. “You’re not even Psychic! And more important - I couldn’t get Mom’s permission to go overseas and I work for these people! Why did she let you come?”

“Hah, please.” Dion combed through his quaff of brown curls. “Asking Mom was your first mistake.”

Gisu snorted and Dion beamed her a smile. Raz wanted to puke on himself.

“Razputin,” Sasha prompted.

“Coming!” Raz leveled a finger at his older brother. “We’re going to revisit this.”

“You bet, baby brother,” Dion scoffed. “I’ll just be hanging here.”

“Don’t… expose him to anything,” Raz said to Gisu, although the snide look on her face made him regret it immediately. Sasha and Otto were already out the door and Raz sprinted to keep up.

Otto was in the middle of this briefing. “We got the news about Arazoso on the way back from Buxing. I lost a third of my staff to the new location. Milla offered to help while she was waiting for you all to pick her up.”

“She offered this even after all she’d already done?”

“Are you surprised?”

“I’m still waiting on her status,” Sasha urged. “What are we looking at? Is she awake? Is she talking?”

“Depends on your definitions,” Otto said. “Definitely not talking. She’s too busy for talking.”

Sasha shook his head. “I was afraid of that.”

They boarded an elevator and headed down to ground level.

“Psychic rescue and recovery is in the lobby,” Otto said. “The Fanrong city hospital is on the corner. Bob and Helmut are located over there for Civilian R and R. Compton and Cassie are technically headquartered here, they are mostly on radio right now. We’ve clocked an astounding number of latent and private-sector psychics.”

“The People’s Republic of China is not the most favorable place to be an active psychic,” Sasha said.

“It’s caused a nightmare for us. I plan to write up an incident report.” The elevator door dinged and slid open, Otto gestured them out. “After you.’

The lobby was even more crowded than the ballroom. Every inch of wall space was occupied by a person wrapped in blankets or bandages. Some Chinese personnel were working, but most of the attending nurses were Psychonauts. A domestic ambulance team navigated the revolving glass door with a man on a stretcher. They dumped their passenger on the tile and ran off with his bed.

“Agent Mentallis!” An Asian man in a white lab coat ran toward them through the chaos. The man’s accent was local but the Pscyhonaut badge on his lapel proved he was an agent as well. “Agent Nein. We haven’t met.”

Sasha greeted with a handshake. “Doctor.”

“Dr. Cao, here is in charge of psychic triage,” Otto said. “He knows more about the details than I do.”

Dr. Cao nodded. “Milla’s in the manager’s office. Follow me.”

They shoved through a nondescript door and down a narrow hallway. The moment Raz stepped in, his hair stood on end. The place was charged with psychic energy. Every bulb in the recessed lighting had burst. Potted plants had withered. The air was cold. A pink sheen rippled like water in the frosted glass of the manager’s door. Dr. Cao opened it ahead of them and released the full force of Milla’s mind onto his companions.

She was suspended in the center of the room, her legs crossed at the ankles and hands open to the sky. The pink mental aura around her flared and ribboned from her head where a wide blanket of fine pink cords crowned her like the sun. Her eyes were shallow and as blank as Zheng Wei’s when Raz found him draped across his crepe stand. A bubble shield extended ten feet around her, including into the ceiling and floor which were now dented, and into the walls where every bit of furniture had been pressed flat against the curve.

Sasha drew a shaky breath. “Scheiße.”

“She’s been like this for hours,” Dr. Cao said. “It started innocently enough. She asked for a quiet place to meditate, so I put her back here and left her alone to do her thing. But when I came back to check in…”

“This isn’t your fault,” Sasha said. “I’ve seen her like this before.”

“You have?” Otto asked.

“Once, but yes.” Sasha stared at the storm, Milla’s wild power reflecting harshly off his lenses. “It’s a conductive spiral. Her power gains strength as her command over it weakens. She summons more strength to make up the difference and so it repeats. She’s overtaxed herself.”

“What exactly is she doing?” Raz asked. “What’s got her so focused?”

“She’s hunting for minds,” Otto said. “Every one of those cords is a Lasso she’s using an astral-projection of herself to drag from her head. I had fifty agents on recovery, but lost half in exchange for keeping Compton and Cassie on-site. Milla’s pulling the weight of twenty-five people and has peeled off so many layers of herself in the process that it’s left her mind frayed. It’s a testament to her willpower, but it's only going to get worse and if this shield gets any bigger it might start damaging the building.”

“We’ve done all we can to get through to her, but this shield keeps us out both physically and mentally,” Dr. Cao said. “Truman approved me to EMP her.”

Raz grimaced. “Electro Magnetic Pulse?”

“Extra-Mental Projection,” Otto clarified. “Think of it as a psychic electro-shock. It’ll turn her brain off for a minute.”

“And put her on psychic rest for the foreseeable future,” Sasha said. “Not to mention scatter all the minds she’s gathered back to the aether around us. Some might even be lost for good.”

“So what? You prefer we leave her like this?” Otto asked. “You can’t play the hypocrite now, Nein. Not after putting her ahead of the rest of the world.”

Raz’s heart stirred. He stared up at the Mental Minx in awe and horror. Milla’s dead eyes stared back, unseeing, but the mind behind them was far from inactive. Ghostly flashes raced up and down the blanket of Lassos as a dozen projected Millas moved in and out at lightning speed. Lost minds were dragged in at the end of their tethers.

Sasha took the glove off his right hand. “Let me make an attempt.”

“We’ve tried that,” Dr. Cao said. “If you touch it, she’ll repel you. Probably at speed.”

“If she doesn't nuke you flat-out,” Otto said. “It would be bad enough losing her at a time like this, we can’t lose you, too.”

“I’ll be fine.” Sasha raised his bare hand to the shield. He paused an inch from the surface. “Razputin.”

Raz straightened to shuddering attention. “Yes, sir?”

“If this doesn’t work, I’ll need your assistance,” Sasha said. “You’re the most capable mental navigator I have right now. Either Milla comes back to us on her own, or we are going in after her. And depending on how this goes, I may not be in a state to take advantage of any gaps in her defense. I know you have a psi-portal. You see an opportunity, you jump.”

Raz lowered his goggles. “Understood.”

Sasha’s attention returned to the crackling wall of mental turbulence before him. The shield snapped against his bare palm like static electricity. The first touch threw a spark that bounced Sasha’s hand back toward his shoulder. He winced, the skin on his fingers already swelling red, and tried again. He wound up and planted his whole hand against the surface. The shield screamed like frightened child. Ribbons of energy lashed from its edges, ripping stripes in the walls and tossing loose articles into the air. Otto and Dr. Cao ducked. Raz’s heart pounded in his ears. Sasha persisted, leaning all of his weight into the hand against the shield.

The surface bowed to the pressure, like poking a finger into a balloon. Pink swirls snaked his fingers and climbed up his arm. Sasha grit his teeth and a wash of blue gloved his fingers as he inched a step closer.

“Sasha?” Otto warned from near the wall. “Don’t get too bold…”

Sasha formed his hand into a blade and twisted his wrist to narrow the tension to a point. The move pierced the shield but did not break it. The bubble bounced back to its original shape with an audible SNAP, fraying Sasha’s sleeve from his wrist to his shoulder but allowing his hand to remain inside. Sasha pressed his temple with his free hand, and a mist of smoky silver energy swirled down the bridge of his extended arm and into the rarified space beyond the shield. The mist coalesced into a full-bodied astral projection of himself. Sasha’s ghostly image stretched his neck, rubbed a thumb into his right palm, and floated up to meet Milla face to face.

The Mental Minx noticed his proximity. She blinked, and met his projection’s gaze. Her eyes brimmed with tears. Her mind echoed like a rattling cage. “Oh darling.... Not you, too….”

Milla reached toward him, not with her physical arms but like an insect emerging from a discarded carapace. Ghostly arms peeled from her physical ones, legs straightened from her physical legs. Sasha’s projection drew back from her reaching hands, baiting her out, and she followed him inch-per-inch until all but the ends of her billowing hair was free from her shell.

Milla’s projection was a whisper compared Sasha’s. The edges trembled and dissolved like water poured on a chalk drawing. It left wispy trails as it followed his projection downward, hands reaching more and more desperately the longer the two remained apart. Milla’s projection closed her eyes and painted an arc before her with her hands. A length of sparkling magenta manifested between her outstretched palms. She cast one end of the cord back toward her body where it joined the bundle of other strings rooted deep in her mind. She formed the other end into a loop and pursued Sasha's projection down to the floor. He pressed his ghostly back against his bodily hand. Milla touched down in front of him and flung the loop over his head. Raz held his breath, psi-portal in hand, as the Lasso descended only for the projection to vanish from within the loop before it could tighten. Sasha retreated back up his arm. Milla's Lasso fell empty as she stared through the veil of her translucent shield and into the eyes of her actual, real-life partner.

The fogginess cleared from her projected face. The ghost gained definition as the tears spilled in drops from her physical eyelids. Her steely expression softened with relief and exhaustion. Her mind and her body both exhaled a sigh. The lasso ropes around her head twanged like strings of a harp as one by one, the copies of herself returned from beyond. Some towed minds, but others didn’t. Each brought the end of a Lasso, and their return added a shade of warmth back to Milla's face as she descended from her angelic position in the air. Her shield thinned and faded. Sasha dropped his extended arm, but held eye contact with the astral projection before him as Milla's body approached it. She stepped into her ghostly skin the same way her mind had left her physical one. Foot. Foot. Arm. Arm. Face. Mind.

Milla's eyes deepened, restored back to full awareness. She dropped all psychic influence over the office, surged forward, and threw both arms around Sasha’s neck.

The oppressive atmosphere of the office lifted. Furniture pinned to the walls by Milla's shield dropped onto their legs or sides. Plaster fell from the dented ceiling, and the rare lightbulb not popped by her aura flickered back to life. Raz exhaled in relief and returned his psi-portal to his backpack. Silence descended, broken only by sniffles as Milla went limp against Sasha’s shoulder, her face obscured by her hair. Sasha held her back, arms tight as if he’d snatched her from the edge of a cliff. Otto and Dr. Cao descended on them in a rush.

“Agent Vodello!” the doctor said. “Report, quick. What are you feeling? Are you in pain? Any dissociation?”

“Hush,” Otto waved him off. “Sasha, step back. We need to evaluate her condition.”

“Hey, leave them alone for a sec, alright?” Raz chided.

“It’s alright,” Milla said, shaky. She stepped out of Sasha’s embrace, eyes red and cheeks wet. Raz’s heart twisted at the sight, but Milla tossed her hair over her shoulder and put on a smile. “I’m fine, gentlemen. A momentary lapse.”

“Momentary?” Otto challenged. “It was twelve hours.”

“Was it? It seemed shorter.” She kneaded the side of her neck. “There was just so much to do…”

“Too much,” Sasha said. “When was the last time you slept? Or ate?”

Milla pouted. “Oh, darling, stop.”

“How many minds are in your head right now?” Otto asked.

She rolled her eyes. “Agent Mentallis, I am very used to having whole camps full of children bouncing and rolling through my mind. It’s a party in there, you know. They’re fine.”

“Yeah, but how many are there?” Otto pressed.

She shrugged. “Two, three thousand?”

“Three THOUSAND?” Raz squawked.

Milla regarded him, a little humbled. Sasha put an arm around her back. “That’s it. You are laying down. Where can we go?”

Dr. Cao retrieved a walkie-talkie from his pocket. “I’ll clear a bed in recovery.”

"No, no, no! Please." Milla threw up her hands. “Save those for the victims of Fanrong. I am fine. Really. Tired perhaps, yes, but there’s no need for that.”

Dr. Cao regarded her skeptically, but lowered his radio. “There’s a break room with a couch across the hall.”

“That’ll do,” Sasha said.

“I still have to check you out,” Dr. Cao said. “Both of you.”

“Both?” Milla started and noticed Sasha’s sleeve. “Oh, darling, your hand!”

He tucked it behind his back. “It’s nothing.”

“Send up a copy of your evaluation as soon as you have it,” Otto told the doctor. “Razputin, come with me. I’ll put you to work.”

“To work?” Raz raised his eyebrows to Sasha. “Can I?”

“Don’t ask him, I outrank him by miles,” Otto said. “And I need every hand I can get. Heck, you’re apparently such an accomplished mental navigator, maybe I’ll send you into Milla’s mind while she’s asleep so you can make some space.”

Milla blinked slowly but didn’t argue. Raz cringed on her behalf and appealed to Sasha anyway. His mentor nodded. "Agent Mentallis will look after you.”

Raz relaxed, excited to be useful. "Great!"

Otto snorted a laugh and turned to the door. Sasha stopped him by clearing his throat. “One thing before you go.”

“Oh?”

“There’s a monk on the Pelican with Oleander. He’s an important resource Truman requested we recover. He’s not cleared to assist here, but he will need food, possibly clothing, and personal protection until we get him back to the Motherlobe.”

“Which is why it was top priority for you return home instead of here.” Otto nodded, understanding. “I’ll see he’s taken care of.”

“Also there’s a dead body onboard you’ll be interested in.”

“Oh good!”

Otto proceeded to the darkened hallway. Raz followed Otto a step, but paused at the door. Milla’s head was back on Sasha’s shoulder, her arms clutching his arm, and her eyes sunken and dull. Raz cleared his throat. “Agent Vodello?”

She perked back up with a little effort. “Yes darling?”

“I’m…” He wet his lips. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

“Thank you, sweetie,” Milla said. “I hope I didn’t scare you.”

“Maybe. A bit,” Raz admitted, “but it was impressive, too. I just wish there was some way I could have helped.”

“You always help me, darling! Just by being yourself,” Milla said. “When we believe in each other, we commit our mental energy to boost each other up. As long as you keep believing in me, I’ll have the strength of heart and mind to help everyone in the world.”

“Not all at the same time, though, right?” Raz asked.

She pressed her lips in a chastened smile. “Not all at the same time. Thank you for coming to help me. Both of you.”

She turned her loving gaze on Sasha who cut a tiny grin. “Anytime. Anywhere.”

Chapter Text

Raz left the superstars to Dr. Cao and joined Otto on the elevator back to the top floor. Otto sighed and scribbled notes with a pen and TK as it ascended. Raz rocked on his heels, not sure of what to say in light of the misadventure he’d just witnessed. “Agent Mentallis?”

“Yes, Raz?”

“Is Milla really going to be okay with so many people in her head? Coach Oleander was stressing out with only sixty-five in his.”

“Some people have the capacity for sixty-five and some people have the capacity for more,” Otto said, still writing. “There are a lot of factors at play. If you’re asking whether three thousand minds crammed into one mental discoteca is healthy, I’d certainly say ‘no’ but Milla can handle it. Sasha being here to keep her focused is going to help a lot. Her type of person always takes better care of themselves on behalf of someone else rather than for their own sake.”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” Raz said. “Is that why field agents have partners?”

“Among other reasons. Personally, I never saw the value in such things. I have my inventions. They keep me grounded.”

“You don’t have them now.”

“Don’t I?” Otto cut a sly smile. “You’ve only seen floors one and fifteen. I’ve got a makeshift lab tucked away in the middle.”

“Really? Where?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

The elevator chimed and released them to the top floor of the building. Gisu and Dion were right where Raz left them. He dashed over, leaving Otto to organize his new notes.

Gisu swung in her chair. “That was pretty epic.”

“You were watching?” Raz asked.

“Yeah!” Dion barked a laugh. “My favorite part was when you didn’t end up doing anything.”

Gisu poked him in the ribs and returned Raz’s attention to her display wall. “Otto’s got cameras all over the city. This one over here taps the in-house security.” She pointed to a boxy little monitor with a black and white screen and built-in joystick/keypad combo, then directed his eye up a layer of televisions to the same image spread broader. “I made some modifications to it of course, but it lets me poke around. It’s how I let Morris know about what was going on.”

“You told Morris?” Otto asked from two tables over.

She flushed pale and strung a loose curl back under her scarf. “You know, because he mentored with her.”

“Uh huh,” Otto said.

Raz cleared his throat. “Oh, is uh, Morris here, too? I had no idea.”

“He is,” Otto confirmed. “As are the Natividad sisters, and Mr. Gette, and Sam Boole although I’m not sure what she’s found to do with herself. They owe you a big ‘thank you’ by the way, Raz. If Team Pelican hadn’t pulled best-friendie favors with the Grand Head they’d all still be home and not participating in this exciting Psychonauts field trip.”

Raz grimaced. “They’re welcome? I guess?”

“You can also take credit for your… delightful… family reunion.” Otto regarded Dion with disapproval. “DIdn’t I give you an assignment?”

“I don’t actually work here?”

“We’ll see about that.” Otto grabbed a foot-long portable field telephone off its dock on the table. “Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s a monk on the helipad I need to deal with. I’ll make a couple calls on your behalf, Raz. I was serious about the Mental Navigator position. I’ll try to find a spot for you with Helmut or Compton. In the meantime, get some rest.”

“Sounds good, sir!” Raz said.

Otto marched off giving Raz, Gisu, and Dion a minute alone. Raz had a couple questions for his brother, most of them starting with 'why' but some starting with "how." Raz opened his mouth, but Gisu beat him to the opening line. She leaned on the arm of her chair. “Want to spy on Milla and Sasha downstairs?”

He sputtered through a double take. “What?”

“Downstairs. In the break room. I’ve got a camera right there.”

“They put a camera in the breakroom?” Raz asked.

“It was pointed at the fridge but I can swivel it around.” Gisu said, conspiratorially. “Come on, don’t tell me you’re not curious. We could catch them making out.”

Raz nearly swallowed his tongue.

“Yuck. Who would want to see that?” Dion asked.

“Lots of people,” Gisu said. “Gossip about these two is a hot commodity back at the Motherlobe. Half the staff thinks Whispering Rock is a cover for their remote romantic getaways. Folks would pay good money for kissing videos.”

“Ugh,” Dion gagged. “Kissing’s gross.”

“That’s not what you said on the plane ride over here,” Gisu teased.

Dion went bright pink. Raz attempted the tongue-swallow again.

Gisu punched a couple buttons and an overhead view of the first-floor employee break room flashed onto the CCTV screen. Raz recoiled, preemptively guilty for violating his mentors’ privacy, but Sasha and Milla weren’t making out. They weren’t even on screen. Gisu poked the joystick on the original unit and took a full sweep of the area before focusing on a couch along the back wall. She raised the volume until they could hear voices murmuring in the hallway. The break room door opened and closed at an eardrum-rupturing decibel. She cranked the gain back down and let it play out.

“I still think this is very unnecessary,” Milla was saying.

“You say unnecessary, I say precautionary,” Dr. Cao retorted. “It’s medicine.”

Milla and Sasha walked into view. The former was trailing a bundle of cords like a bridal veil in her wake. She poked the sensor glued to her temple. “It seems excessive.”

“Allow a specialist a little self-indulgence. I’ve never seen a mind as full as yours. It is a privilege to document it.” Dr. Cao crossed to the couch and placed the device connected to Milla's cords on the end table. “This will record your brain waves. I’ll peek in every thirty minutes to check the readout. Invisibly. I wouldn’t want to disturb you.”

“Thank you,” Milla said.

He leveled a finger at her. “I want at least three hours’ rest. That’s two REM cycles. Understand?”

“I do.”

“I’ll stay with her,” Sasha said.

“What about that urgent call back to HQ?” Dr. Cao asked.

“We're currently refueling. I have a little time.”

“Okay. Call me if you sense any concerning developments." Dr. Cao jabbed a thumb at the kitchenet across the room. "If you get hungry, there’s granola bars in the cabinet and someone’s lunch is in the icebox.”

Sasha’s voice was flat. “We’ll be fine.”

Dr. Cao vanished, followed by the click of the door off-screen. Milla poked at the other sensor pads on her head. “This is very embarrassing.”

“We don’t want you burning out on us,” Sasha said, more kindly.

“If I didn’t know better, I suspect you all were worried about me.”

“Nonsense,” Sasha dismissed. “I’d be interested to see these findings as well. What you’ve accomplished in the last twenty-four hours is impressive to say the least. You said you had how many? Three thousand minds right now?”

“Three thousand five hundred and fifty one,” Milla answered.

“Your MRI images must be spectacular.”

She took his arm, weary but good-humored. “You intend to stay here with me the whole time I'm asleep?”

“Where else would I go?”

“Home, of course. Did you find a duelist?”

“Yes and no,” Sasha said. “I found an expert in Weaponkinesis, but it seems I am the duelist.”

She gaped at him. “Oh darling, I don’t know…”

“It was the only compromise Mr. Pergola was willing to make,” Sasha said. “Perhaps we can still convince him to face Horatio one-on-one, but for now it seems I will be acquiring an exciting new skill. That can only work out well, right?”

She shook her head. “If anyone can handle such a task it's you, Sasha. You can overcome any challenge. I just worry... about the maiming.”

“I haven't forgotten," he said. "We'll worry about that later. For now, the plane is fueling and you need to sleep.”

Milla sighed. "Alright."

She MUST have been mentally taxed because she actually walked to the sofa. Sasha guided her to head to the pillow against the arm, making sure none of the cables or sensors were tangled in the process. He took off his suit jacket and tucked it over her shoulder, revealing the cloth bandage peeking out from within his right glove.

Milla noted it. “I’m sorry for hurting you.”

“It wasn’t on purpose.” He sat on the floor near her head. “You overdid it.”

“I had to. Those people…”

“What did I say? Worry later.” He folded his arms on the couch. “Rest now.”

She smiled, snuggled close, and let her eyes close. The box on the end-table bleated softly as her brain waves changed length. Sasha glanced up at it to confirm that she was asleep, floated his glasses from his nose to the table, and pressed his forehead to Milla’s brow. A shimmer glowed between them, moving from his mind to hers. Raz knew what that felt like... a warm bath of strength and heart-swelling energy, just like when his dad and his Nona gave him all their strength to fight his hardest battles.

Dion squinted at the monitor. “Is that how psychics make out?”

“No, that’s boring,” Gisu rolled her eyes.

“Not worth selling to the gossip mongers?” Raz asked.

Gisu pouted. “Not that you were going to let me do it, right?”

“Figures baby bro would be a narc,” Dion said. “You’re such a goody two-shoes.”

“I’m just looking out for the team.” Raz shrugged. He glanced back at the screen where both agents were now sleeping. He flicked his little finger and used TK on the joystick to point the camera back at the fridge.

Chapter Text

Otto took a long time coming back from the helipad… long enough that Dr. Cao’s report on Sasha and Milla beat him back to the command center by nearly twenty minutes. Raz hovered around Gisu and Dion after it arrived, his mind full of a hundred questions but his curiosity too great to focus on them. He kept glancing at the report folder on Otto’s desk, dying to know what Dr. Cao said about his mentors and more than a little concerned that it was urgent. Sasha was really worried about Milla, and despite her insistence, Raz agreed. What if she needed more help than they were letting on? If Dr. Cao's report recommended she head back to the Motherlobe, Otto needed to know it before the Pelican was ready to take off.

Raz inched his way over to the report on the desk. “I’m gonna just… take this upstairs to Agent Mentallis.”

“That’s top secret, Raz,” Gisu warned. “You’re going to get in trouble.”

“Since when do you care about getting in trouble?” He teased.

“Oh, I don’t.” Gisu grinned. “You do, though.”

“I won’t read it, I’ll just carry it.” Raz lifted it with Telekinesis. “See? I won’t even touch it.”

“Okay, then, good luck!”

Gisu spun back toward her monitors and Raz towed the floating file through the command-center with his mind. The staircase he and Sasha used to climb down from the helipad was open, so Raz slipped up the steps and back to the rooftop where workers were busy moving equipment around. Oleander was among them, barking out orders. He’d taken the opportunity to change back into his camo flack suit for the chore of fueling up.

“Look alive everyone!” the coach cried. “We’re on a priority mission, you know! The sooner we get this baby juiced up, the sooner we save the world! You’re welcome!”

“Coach!” Raz called and sprinted over.

Oleander hooked his hands on his hips. “Well, soldier. Do you have a report?”

“Yes - ” Raz stopped short with a glance at the hovering folder. “Not that one, but I do have a report from downstairs.”

“And?”

“Milla’s okay. Sasha had to kinda trick her back to normal, but she’s better now.”

Oleander nodded sagely. “And our dust-off time?”

“Sasha's staying with her for the next two and a half hours.”

“Good, that’ll give us a chance to restock supplies!” Oleander said. “Otto's on the jet talking with our ratty old monk. Waste of time if you ask me. What a piece of work.”

“I know he's resistant to help us, but I didn’t think he’s THAT bad,” Raz said.

“You didn’t have him nagging you inside your own head.” Oleander tapped the brim of his hat. "Insufferable."

“That was for like, ten minutes.”

“Yeah but he used them to the full extent.”

“What was he yelling at you about, anyway?” Raz asked.

“He didn’t like the state of my mindscape. All those monks had a huge cow about it. You’d think a bunch of pacifists would appreciate someone else fighting their battles for them but no.”

“Wait, you put them in Basic Braining?” Raz asked. “Wasn’t there somewhere else in your mind you could store them that wasn’t a literal warzone?”

“I didn’t have time to give them the grand tour! I sucked 'em in and left them where they landed,” he scoffed. “The Basic Braining course is built on my surface level. Every mind has a landing zone visitors see when they portal in. Before I took the job at Whispering Rock, my landing zone was a bigger version of that recruiting office you started in when you took my class. It took me weeks to craft it into an obstacle course for you kiddos… carefully scaffolding basic mental motor skills, putting in jumps and trapezes, locking up vaults I didn’t want you to see.”

“So your mind didn’t naturally come like that?” Raz asked.

“Nah, the surface level is pretty pliable. It’s where dreams and stuff go. The personal hard-to-move stuff is deeper down and not so easy to get to by the random visitor. Not unless that visitor knows how to peel back layers. Like the Psychonauts, you know? The psi-cadets at Whispering Rock more often than not have never been inside another person’s mind before. They dive in and impact right on the surface like tiny missiles. That’s why the agency's camp counselors and teachers build little classrooms into their landing zones to help them acclimate. You know about that, I’m well aware. After what you did to Hollis's.”

Regret surged like ice from the pit of Raz’s stomach. He had not forgotten, nor did he suspect he ever would. Breaking out of Hollis’s classroom and affecting the rest of her mind was one of the biggest mistakes he’d ever made. “So, I guess my landing zone is my family caravan. Do you think I could craft a new one someday, too?”

“Sure, kid. It just takes time and meditation,” Oleander said. “If it turns out you have a knack for mental construction, you might even end up building the veneer constructs we use on our assignments like Sasha does. That’s a valuable skill, kid. Fast track for promotion if you can make a mastery out of it. Lotta responsibility, though. Best to start slow. You can beam yourself into your own head already, right?”

“You mean like with the brain tumbler?”

“Well, yeah, but you can do it yourself if you turn your third eye inward.” Oleander thumbed his impressive mustache. “Actually, that’s probably Advanced Junior Psychonaut stuff. Don’t want you little geniuses screwing up your own heads before you’re ready.”

"Can you teach me?"

Oleander looked flustered. "I mean, I COULD, but ... you know, a meditation expert would be better at that. Ask Milla, assuming she hasn't burned herself like a matchstick at his point."

“Ahem,” Otto interrupted the discussion. He stepped into their midst and pointed to Raz’s floating folder. "For me?"

"Yes sir!" Raz popped a salute and TK’d it into his hand. “Message from Dr. Cao.”

“Good.” Otto tucked it under one arm with the rest of his papers and spoke to Oleander. “That monk of yours is something else.”

“Innit ‘e?”

“Hope he keeps up his end of this bargain you've conscripted him for. Color me doubtful.” Otto checked his notes. “I took the liberty of using your radio to contact Truman. He gave me an update on Argentina.”

“Yeah?” Oleander asked.

“Hollis says there’s evidence of Mentalist activity,” Otto said. “The New Thinkers are active on the continent but stay further north and the mental resonance implies teleportation. We've got the New Thinkers' only documented teleporter on ice after the Zurich Incident.”

“On ice?” Raz asked. “You killed him?”

“No, actually on ice," Otto said. "A glacier. She's In our penitentiary in Antarctica.”

“Was Argentina the reason for that the urgent classified summons we got on the way here?” Oleander asked.

“No, Truman wouldn't tell me about that. If you ask me, it was to keep you away from us.”

Raz frowned. “But why?”

“Because your mission leader is predictable,” Otto said. “Regardless of whatever Truman's keeping secret, this Argentina development has upped our timetable, and any senior staff-member you ask will tell you that if Sasha Nein was allowed to rendezvous here in Fanrong he’d find out about Mila’s imminent EMP and do exactly as he’s just done. Now we’re losing precious time.”

“But having Milla not-EMP’d is better, though, right?” Raz asked. “It means she can still help.”

“We’ll see about that.” Otto tapped Dr. Cao’s file with a snort. “Regardless, Truman’s been updated on her status and the minute the Pelican’s ready to fly, he wants it in the air. Expect to leave without Agent Vodello.”

Oleander dropped his gaze. “Right.”

“And you may have to sneak Sasha off in his sleep.”

“Gotcha.”

"But... Uh..." Raz gulped. “Is kidnapping people really necessary? We can spare a few hours, right? Or maybe they can leave together?”

Otto shook his head. “With all those minds in her head? Not a chance.”

Raz tried again. "Then we'll wait for them to get cleaned out. You're the one who said Sasha and Milla were better together."

Otto dropped the sardonic attitude a moment and adjusted his glasses. "Don't fret, son. As codependent as those two are, they’re still professionals. They’ll survive. Besides! You can’t waste time worrying! You’re going to be too busy on mind recovery! While he was on the phone, I got Truman to reassign you to my team. Congratulations, you’re officially part of the Fanrong recovery unit.”

Raz’s sagging heart bolstered, then sank again as he remembered the piles of bodies in the Fanrong briefing. “I won’t be, like, working in the morgue or anything, right?”

“Close enough, I’m assigning you to body duty,” Otto said. “You and Bob Zanotto will be stitching non-psychics back together over at the hospital. Mr. Gette is already on that job, so you’ll work twice as fast together.”

Knowing Adam was going to be with him helped a little.

Otto made another note on his paperwork. “Go get your stuff off the plane. You’re moving in with the other Junior Agents on the tenth floor. We’ve got a little barracks going down there. It’s cramped, but there’s room to wedge you in.”

“I’m used to eight people in a wagon, I think I can handle it.”

“Then get a move on, Junior Agent.” Otto addressed Oleander one last time. “I’ll send someone up for that ”special luggage”in back. Don’t want it smelling up the upholstery and god knows I need something to get my mind off this nightmare.”

Otto left for the staircase. Oleander propped his fists on his hips. “Sounds like our Hornblower friend is getting cocky. Maybe Truman will let me build that death ray after all.”

Raz forced a smile. “Let’s work on finding him first, then we can think about blasting him.”

“Better to be prepared,” Oleander said. “Don’t uh… don’t talk to Pergola while you’re up there, okay? I don’t trust him.”

“He’s the whole reason we came here.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s not a snitch,” Oleander said. “For all we know, he and Hornblower are in cahoots and getting him in the Motherlobe is the first step toward mind bombing the whole quarry. If Truman’s got any sense he’ll brainbox him the minute we touch down.”

“Brain box?”

“Mental handcuffs,” Oleander said. “Psychoisolation helmet. They’re not a full-on off-switch like a geodesic dome unit is, but putting them on a psychic's head makes them a little less powerful. Less dangerous. Before we started using the Psilirium security system, it was the best way to keep a malicious psychic from attacking people while behind bars. You’ve probably seen ‘em on babies, actually. They keep the little tykes from hurting themselves before they’re old enough to control their powers.”

Raz thought immediately of Dogan Boole. “You mean like exploding people’s heads?”

Oleander sucked his teeth. “Just a note… home-made brainboxes aren’t… agency approved.”

Raz felt retroactively unsafe.

A pair of agents in lab coats emerged from the staircase. They reported to Oleander. “We’re here for a body?”

“On the ship,” Oleander said. “Follow the kid.”

Raz led them up the Pelican’s gangplank and into the cabin. Pergola was still meditating in the back, although instead of his bundle of fur and leather, he was now dressed in a gray sweater, slacks, and real shoes. Seeing the old man trussed up like a businessman was jarring. He was still grizzled and haggard, but less mystic and foreign. Pergola’s floating pillows slowed to a stop as the crowd stepped aboard. Raz eyed him, considering for a moment whether the coach’s suspicions were correct. It all could be a ruse, he supposed, but Pergola gave up his whole existence for this mission, and he needed the Psychonauts’ help to recover the book that was stolen out of his library. Still, he was a bit of an asshole, and the possibility was something to consider.

Raz pointed to the bundle of blankets in the corner. “Thee uh... package is under there.”

“Thanks, kid,” the leading agent said.

The pair moved to the back, ignoring Pergola’s silent, close-eyed posture as if he was part of the furniture. Raz opened his backpack and started gathering his stuff. He only had his toothbrush, some snacks, a spare set of clothes, and his winter coat on board – that and a few issues of True Psychic Tales, but those weren’t luggage as much as they were mission-essential study materials. He thought about bringing the highlighter and bank account records with him, but let them be. If Sasha really WAS kidnapped by Oleander, Raz imagined he’d appreciate an excuse not to talk.

By the time he’d gathered all he needed, the agents had vanished and Pergola’s pillows resumed their rotation. Raz watched them, fascinated. One of Pergola’s glossy eyes opened. “You.”

Raz gulped. “Yes?”

“Your mind is too open.”

“I’m… sorry?”

He raised his other eyelid. “To the unscrupulous, an unrefined soul is an open doorway. Every mind you touch erodes the gates to your true self. The friend, the enemy, the student, the stranger… it does not matter. Like a broad highway road, an oft-trodden soul allows passage for wandering minds. To temper the soul is to refine it like gold, burning off imperfections. That is what I have been doing back here during this flight… purging the connection that tiny, violent man has to my mind.”

Raz frowned at him. “You mean Oleander? You’re locking him out of your collective unconscious?”

“Bah. Clinical government words.” Pergola closed his eyes again. “I am purifying my own mind by torching everything that doesn’t belong.”

“Listen, for what it's worth, I’m sorry we had to go into your head,” Raz said. “Having a stranger invade your mind is violating, but the Psychonauts know that. We have rules about how and when to act. They taught me to always ask for permission before intruding on people, but sometimes desperate times require us to push the boundaries a bit. I mean, if Oleander hadn’t pulled you into his mind, you’d be dead right now.”

“That’s your theory.”

“That’s, like, actual fact.” Raz said. “Your mind and your body were disconnected. You wouldn’t be able to get back into your own head without our help. If no one, like, fed you and stuff, your body would die and then your mind would die, too.”

“My mind and body were only disconnected to a point,” Pergola said. “I could still use my psychic powers. I was still housed in my flesh, my mind was just wandering. The goal of my order is to achieve the finest and most delicate of connections. To temper the soul is to heat it until it is pliable. To this end, I have spent thirty years folding and stretching the fabric of my subconscious.”

Raz pressed his lips. “Like taffy?”

Pergola opened his eyes to glare. “Like steel.”

“Oh… right, yeah that’s better.”

“The goal of our order is to refine our souls until the connection between our higher selves and our carnal bodies is thin as a whisper, only wide enough to walk by my own heart.”

“Sometimes a thin cord is easier to break,” Raz said.

“And sometimes it is strong enough to kill 100,000 people in one blast.” Pergola regarded him with another pointed glance. “The secrets of my order are sacred to me, this last student is the final time I will pass on the secrets of our weapon technique, but I am willing to teach you to temper if you desire it. You are young, you can still protect yourself from these so-called Psychic Special Agents who are now asking a literal child to open his mind to thousands of faceless strangers. Those connections will remain open if you don’t learn how to shut them.”

Raz’s throat tightened. He was reminded again of Milla’s mind-storm. Three-thousand minds were in her head, that meant three-thousand more doors in her mental neighborhood, plus the ten-thousand from Buxing. When he glimpsed Sasha’s view of the Collective Unconscious, he saw doors upon doors upon doors. Sasha had flung the less important ones away from him, but they were all still there. How many were villains? Psychic terrorists? Undesirable minds who now had a door to Sasha’s mind in THEIR neighborhood as well. With a chill, Raz remembered Dr. Loboto’s door in his own head. It was just standing there next to Lili’s door, and Nona’s door, and his dad’s door. Could someone like Dr. Loboto get to them through his mind?

A smile spread across Pergola’s lined face. Raz squared his shoulders and gripped the strap of his backpack more tightly. “You can do what you want with your own mind, but being a Psychonaut means helping people who can’t help themselves. In Buxing I helped a man who was so scared about being out of his body that he lost control of his psychic powers. I had to go into his head to get him home, which means there’s a door back there in my head now, too, but I had no choice.”

“And does that make you feel vulnerable?”

“I mean it’s weird, yeah, but the reason we have a connection now is because we had an impact on each other. That happens to everyone whether they’re psychic or not. Even if we don’t speak the same language, or live on the same continent, or ever see each other again, that experience is now part of both of our lives. Maybe it does make me a little more vulnerable, I don’t know, but I’m not sorry I did it. I’m not sad I helped save his life.”

Pergola’s smile widened. “Then that weakness will be the first thing I will teach you to burn out.”

Chapter Text

Raz paused for a breath at the bottom of the gangplank, mulling over Pergola’s offer to teach him tempering. Raz saw the value in locking away mental doors – Milla’s experience downstairs was an example of what could happen when a mind is stretched too thin – but every connection he’d forged so far were either people he’d helped or people he cared about. He didn’t want to lose those. Even if Otto’s upcoming assignment meant Raz’s mental neighborhood expanding by thousands of people he’d never met, he couldn’t escape the disgust of letting them all suffer to save his own mind a little clutter. He doubled his grip on his backpack and continued across the helipad to the stairway door. Agent Mentallis said the Junior Agent sleeping quarters were on the tenth floor. That would be a safe next place to go. Maybe he could think there.

Raz didn’t bother with the elevator, he hopped onto the railing and descended the floors one slide at a time until he spotted the number ten. The sleeping floor was appropriately dark and quiet for a team of Agents on call at hours. The floor was full of conference rooms in its previous life. The placards once used to list what meeting or talk was being held inside each chamber now had labels like “Body Recovery Shift 1,” “Mind Recovery Shift 2,” “Flight Crew,” and ““Senior Staff.” Raz spied lines of sleeping bags and cots through narrow windows in the doors. Everything looked so glamorous in True Psychic Tales, the comics never featured the parts of missions where agents slept on the floor unless they were in an igloo or a dungeon or something.

The Junior Agents' room was at the very end of the line. Raz could tell by the handwriting that Otto wrote the sign, himself. People were talking inside; Norma, Lizzie, and a third voice. Raz rolled his eyes and shoved through the door. “Frazie? You too?”

“Raz!” Frazie jumped, an odd, almost guilty look on her face.

“Cool off, Pooter,” Lizzie teased. “We're off duty.”

The Natividad sisters were wearing their pajamas; Lizzie in a tank and boxers and Norma in a full gown with a collar and everything. Frazie was just in her striped bodysuit, obviously here for sleeping as well. She crossed her arms across her chest. “Listen, Raz, I’ve got as much right to be here as you. And by that I mean you don't have a right because Mom didn't give you permission to come!”

“Yeah, but Nona did.”

“Since when does Nona outrank Mom?”

“Since her name qualified as a parent or guardian.” Raz crossed his arms as well. “It's more legit than you two. Dion didn’t ask Mom at all, and neither did you I’d guess.”

That nervous look came on again. “I didn’t ask about leaving the country if that’s what you mean.”

“What did you ask about?” Raz asked.

“Sleeping over at Norma and Lizzie's.”

Raz raised an eyebrow. "A sleepover?"

“It was the perfect time to have one,” Norma said . “All the senior staff were on assignment, so we took over the common room on the concierge floor and used that big projector screen to play ‘Creatures from Further Space’ and scream after quiet hours. You really should have been there.”

“Nah, He’d probably call the front desk on us,” Lizzie scoffed. “Teacher’s pet.”

“I’m not – ” Raz checked himself and kept his head. “That still doesn’t explain why my brother and sister are here.”

“That's because in the middle of the alien monster attacks, one of the agents burst in and demanded we get our bug-out-bags and hit the trams," Lizzie said. "Like it was an air raid or something."

"We didn't know what was going on, so we just followed everyone else," Frazie explained. "Before I knew it, I was strapped onto an airplane and halfway to China.”

“They didn’t check ID?” Raz asked.

“The doors opened for Norma and Lizzie and I walked through.” Frazie propped her hands to her hips. “Seriously, Raz, I came here on ACCIDENT and I don’t want you telling Mom and Dad any different, okay? It’s the truth.”

“Okay, I believe you,” Raz said. “Were Dion and Gisu at your movie night, too?”

“Yeah, everyone was there,” Lizzie said. “Although not everyone was making out as much as those two were.”

“Ugh, stop!” Frazie groaned. “That is so gross!”

Raz grinned. At least he and Frazie were on the same page about that one. “Why are you guys headed to bed while Gisu’s still upstairs at work?”

Norma scoffed. “Some of us have been on our feet all day.”

“Agent Boole had us running all over fighting Wild Minds across the city,” Lizzie answered. “There’s a lot of them around here. We’ve been hog-tying and corralling for hours like a pair of cowgirls.”

Raz’s heart leaped. “You know how to Mental Lasso? Can you teach me?”

“Are you kidding? We’re not cleared to use Mental Lassos.” Lizzie replied. "We fight with the thing until it's cowed and our assigned agent does the actual Lassoing."

"Can you imagine having some random screaming victim stuck inside your head? No thanks.” Norma adjusted her glasses. "Look me up when Otto invents an a psychic net or something."

“He's working on one actually,” Gisu said from the door. She and Dion entered together prompting another eye roll from Frazie. Gisu tugged down her scarf and tossed the baseplate of her skateboard on the pile of blankets that must have been her bed. “He's been drawing up plans in his secret on-site lab. The situation's been inspiring. Mother necessity and all that.”

“Shouldn’t he be focusing on the brain-crisis thing that’s happening?” Frazie asked. "Isn't he in charge?"

It was Gisu’s turn to roll her eyes. “Agent Mentallis is a technopath? For him, tinkering IS dealing with the brain-crisis thing. His mind works better when he’s making things, and when I say better I mean like BETTER. He’s a genius resting but he’s like, astronomical when he’s really rolling.”

Dion’s eyes narrowed. “He’s like a million years old.”

Norma lit up. “Oh my god, are you JEALOUS?”

“No!” Dion went pale. “Why would I be jealous of… of the Crypt Keeper in a puffer jacket?”

Norma slid a clever look at her sister. “I don’t know, Dion. I think you’re afraid your girlfriend’s got a taste for older men."

“Or at least smarter men,” Lizzie snorted.

“Well, she doesn’t have to look far for that,” Frazie added.

The girls laughed together as Dion went from white to purple. “Shut up, I’m not jealous!”

“And I’m not his girlfriend,” Gisu scoffed.

“Yeah!” Dion took a double take. “Wait? You’re not?”

“No, stupid, we haven’t even been on a date.”

His face fell. “But we, like, made out. Like a lot.”

“That’s just fun, that doesn’t mean we’re dating.”

Dion deflated as Frazie and the Natividad sisters split a seam laughing. Raz’s heart sank with him. It was always fun to see Dion get a notch or two knocked out of him, but Raz didn't like seeing him sincerely hurt. If Lili dismissed HIM so casually, it would crush Raz into powder.

“Come on you guys, give it a rest,” Raz said. “We’re on a life and death mission right now. Let’s focus.”

“Spoil sport,” Lizzie teased with a grin. She gestured to the corner of the conference room. “Your spot’s over there, Pooter. We promise not to go through your stuff while you’re gone.”

Raz pressed his lips and moved to his new quarters without comment. He dropped his coat and overnight bag, but covertly moved his toothbrush and his comics to his backpack. Couldn’t be too careful.

“Hey,” Gisu said from behind him.

“Yeah?”

She gave him another sealed folder. “Your assignment. Otto told me to bring it down.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Raz took the folder. He spotted Dion sulking near the wall and raised his eyebrows at her. “Did you mean that about just having fun? Or was that to save face in front of the girls?”

Gisu brushed her curly bangs out of her face. “Don’t be lame, Raz.”

“No really,” he insisted. “I can tell you don’t think a casual relationship is a big deal, but Dion’s not like that. We grew up in a traveling circus, we’ve never been in any one place long enough to actually, like, date somebody. I’m not going to tell you what to do, but just… think about that, okay? Don’t assume he’s thinking the same way you are.”

“Raz, I’m a Psychonaut. I know exactly what he’s thinking,” Gisu said, but the retort betrayed a bit of understanding. “I’ll set some boundaries.”

“Good idea.”

“Also, just letting you know, it’s my fault your brother and sister are here,” Gisu said. “I didn’t intend for them to come on an actual Psychonaut mission, but when we decided to do movie night we needed to get them in after curfew so I gave them Thinkerprint access. They needed at least level two to get into residential, so when they called up off-duty agents Dion and Frazie limbo’d under the qualification bar. Otto doesn’t know i did it, so don’t rat me out to him. I’ll revoke their access as soon as I’m back at the Motherlobe, I promise.”

"Okay." Raz said. “And for what it's worth, I really don’t mind that you guys are getting to know my siblings better. Being psychic always made me the weird one. Maybe if they see it’s cool, they’ll be more okay with it. I just don’t want them to get hurt. Emotionally OR mentally.”

“That might be hard to prevent around here.”

“Why? Did you clear them for field work, too, while you were adjusting permissions?” Raz asked.

“Geez, kid, you’re such a rule follower,” Gisu teased.

"I'm really not, I'm just trying to be mindful." Raz insisted. “In the words of your most esteemed mentor in TPT #196, “Rules and Safety are two important and legally distinct things.””

Gisu smirked. “Otto’s a genius but he’s also a kook. Open your folder.”

Raz paged through the contents. The first page had photos of both Dion and Frazie listed as “Civilian Volunteer” with "Approval” stamped large and red across their faces. The next page had Raz's assignment. He was assigned to Bob Zanotto's "Body Recovery Unit Supplemental" and instructed to escort Civilian Volunteers to Hospital HQ for assignment. Raz sighed and slipped the folder in his backpack. “Please tell me they’re the only two Aquatos here besides me?”

Gisu pressed her lips. “I mean... as far as I know.”

"Thank goodness for that." Raz clapped his hands. “Sibs! We're on assignment! It's time to get to work!”

Chapter Text

The lobby of the hospital was even busier than the lobby of Fanrong HQ. For every one latent psychic exposed by the Mind Bomb, there were a thousand normal-minded people suffering from simultaneous involuntary existential crises. Every hospital bed was full, every cot and gurney was full, the waiting rooms were full, and the hallways were full. The regular doctors and nurses were all victims as well, so the patents were treated by a handful of military and Psychonaut physicians. Raz, Dion, and Frazie walked through the front doors of the Emergency Room and into a sea of unconscious people, unclear about where to go or what to do. All Raz’s assignment packet said was to find Agent Zanotto and ask him for direction. The people working at the Emergency Room front desk were all speaking Chinese. The first Psychonaut they ran into didn't have time to direct them and simply told them to “follow the yelling.”

Beyond the ER, the halls of the hospital were packed with so many gurneys and beds it was hard to get around. Gurneys were double-parked along the walls, leaving just enough space in the middle for beds to take turns rolling past. The workers squeezed between the beds as if they were simply furniture and not people in need of care. No was hooked to any machines or IVs, they just laid on their backs staring at the ceiling the same way Zheng Wei was when his mind had gone wild.

"I don't like it in here," Frazie said.

Raz gulped. "I see why they need our help."

“Not my help!” Dion cried. “We aren't even supposed to be here! All I wanted was to watch movies and make out. Now I’m not doing either. I wish I was home.”

“Start walking then,” Frazie said. “Be sure to let Mom know where we’ve been.”

“No way, I’m not telling her! Raz needs to tell her, he’s the Psychonaut.”

Raz sighed. Even with the family camping in the Questionable Area, the world of the traveling circus and the world of the Motherlobe felt like two happy bubbles Raz moved between when he wanted to. The sudden venn-diagramming of his life complicated both his job and his heart. His Psychonaut archetype chafed against his “Little Pootie” archetype, and the fight for dominance was ongoing. With a deep breath, he willed Psychonaut Raz to the forefront. “If Nona hasn’t told Mom by now, I’ll tell her when we get back, don’t worry.”

“Really?” Dion gawked. “You’re just gonna tell her?”

“Mom getting mad at me is so low on the list of stuff I have to worry about right now I’m almost looking forward to it.”

Dion whistled. “Wow! Someone’s grown a spine.”

“This is why he’s my favorite brother,” Frazie said.

Dion snorted. “I thought Queepie was your favorite brother.”

“Oh yeah, but he doesn’t count. Queepie is a tier up.”

“You’re right, at least a tier.”

Raz’s chest muscles unclenched a fraction as he pushed through the next layer of doors and into an even more congested landscape of patients. Bob’s voice could be heard barking orders somewhere ahead. A set of double-doors opened halfway up the hall and two agents used TK to move a line of gurneys toward a bank of elevators. Two more agents popped out to grab more beds and pull them in. The sign above the door was in Chinese. Raz hoped it wasn’t the morgue.

It appeared to once have been the ICU. Bob was at the central desk surrounded by open bays with accordion curtains folded back against the walls. The standard machinery and monitors were pushed aside to make room for lines of beds and exam tables where mindless people slept. Psychonauts moved among the bodies. Some hovered over the victims, enshrouding their heads with clouds of sparking Clairvoyance. Others were frozen in concentration as their astral projections hopped in and out of open psi-portals on a dozen different heads. Junior Psychonaut Adam Joseph Gette was working near the administration desk with Helmut’s brain ball balanced on the table beside him. They studied an elderly woman with a glaze in her eyes. Helmut spoke through telepathy. ”Okay, I think she’s coming around.”

“Really? You got her back?” Adam asked.

“She was in a lot of pieces, but she’s a tough old gal. She’ll pull through it.”

Bob rose from his seat behind the reception desk and approached the gurney. When Raz first met Lili’s great uncle he was in patchy clothes with wild gray hair and a trademark Zanotto beard full of gardening equipment. He was still squat and still gray, but dressed fresh for business with new glasses, a clean apron, and a pair of clippers still tucked behind his ear. “You finally done over here?”

Helmut rolled across the desk to a little ball-caddy made of towels. “Yeah, babe. We’re good.”

Bob grabbed a clipboard off the peg rack behind him. “So what’s the final grading? A one? A two?”

“Oh she’s a definitely a three.”

“A three? After the state she arrived in?” Bob asked.

The brain in the ball cocked to one side. ”You doubt my skills?”

“Doubt? That was ‘impressed.’ That was my impressed voice.” Bob scribbled on the top sheet of paper and unclipped it from the pad. “Gentry!”

“Here, sir!” An agent across the room reported.

“Get this one upstairs.” Bob handed the loose page to Adam who pinned it to the woman’s bed. “Send Nvita and her crew back down here. We’re going to need another triage sweep.”

“You got it, boss,” Agent Gentry said. They hooked the edge of the gurney with their mental fist and dragged the old woman out. Raz held the door to let them through.

"Raz!" Adam brightened. “Good! You’re here!”

”Razputin!” Helmut bobbed in his nutrient fluid. The slosh displaced his tiny brain-sized viking helmet. “Otto said you were on your way to us! How’s it hangin’?”

“Uh, I’m okay,” Raz said. “You guys are working hard.”

“Yeah, well, you know. Global crisis and all that.” Helmut settled back into his caddy. “All in a day's work.”

Helmut’s appearance finally registered to Dion who recoiled at the sight. “Gross! Is that a brain?”

Bob’s brow leveled into a shelf above his glasses. He used TK to move his husband's helmet back into place. “Who’s this?”

Raz folded in on himself a little. "Dion and Frazie. My older siblings.”

“Oh! The civilian volunteers!” Helmut said. “Okay, that makes sense.”

Bob pouted. He drew another clipboard toward him with his mind. “Psychics?”

“Not me,” Dion said.

Raz slid a look at Frazie. She averted her eyes. Raz answered for her. “They’re mostly acrobats.”

“But they come from a psychic family, so they know about psychic stuff,” Adam added with a dose of cheer. “I know them already, Mr. Bob. They’re good people, don’t worry.”

“Hmmm.” Bob looked doubtful and checked a couple more boxes with is pen. “Fine. Mr. Gette, congrats. You’re a team leader now.”

“Nice!” Adam grinned.

“These three are your team. Get to work on the back hallway,” Bob said. “Compton’s pinged me about a massive influx of minds rolling in. We better be ready.”

“Leave it to me, sir!” Adam saluted. “C’mon, team. We have a lot on our plate.”

Adam led them out of the ICU and into the congested hospital halls. Raz had to trot to keep up with the older boy’s long strides. He knew Adam to be easygoing and responsible in the Motherlobe, but it looked like he was coming alive in the field. He directed the group’s attention to each door they passed, sharing procedure and catching them up.

“When the Psychonauts arrived, the first task they had was collecting bodies off the street," Adam explained. "They declared the hospital as the non-psychic center right off, but there’s way more non-psychics than psychics so they hit capacity before the other Junior Agents and I even got here. We’ve commandeered the nearby office buildings as temporary housing for the ones who are whole again and walking around, but the upper floors of the hospital are still busting and who knows how many more people are out there.”

“So there’s no telling how long this is going to take?” Raz asked.

“Agent Mentallis is always coming up with new ideas on strategy, so you’ll have to ask him. Around here we’re interested in healing,” Adam said.

Dion lolled his head back. “Come on! We haven’t even been here a day! He’s talking like he’s an expert!”

“I am an expert!” Adam waved the clipboard in the air. “We’ve got a whole system here. Color and number. Mr. Bob is real logical. Back when he was a full-time agent he was like Hollis, you know? A tactical guy. Look, we’re here. I’ll show you.”

Adam jogged around the final corner and into a service corridor. The room was packed with a grid of gurneys parked wall-to-wall. They completely blocked the utility door at the back. There wasn’t even room to walk between them. Raz stared, goggle-eyed. “You just left these folks here?”

“We ran out of room,” Adam said.

“But there’s not even a nurse!" Raz insisted. "You just left them all piled up like some kind of traffic jam! Like you were storing packing crates!”

“You can throw stones later if you want to,” Adam said. “We’ve been working nonstop from the minute we landed. We didn’t have the staff to watch over every hallway. These people are mindless still, anyway, so it’s not like they’ll remember, and it's not like they'll wander off. We’re getting to everyone as fast as we can, which is why the four of us are here now! Let me go over the rules, okay?”

Adam unclipped a sheet of colored stickers from the clipboard and passed them to the Aquatos. “We need to rank these people according to the severity of their impairment. You heard Mr. Bob talking about a number system – that’s for after the minds are reconnected. It corresponds with the recovery floor they need to go to. One is the ones who need the most treatment to get back to normal. Fours and Fives are pretty much healthy and they get sent to the office building for evaluation and hopefully release. That’s the usual ‘civilian volunteer.’ Down here on the ground floor, we sort people by colors. The lady Helmut just sorted? She's a Red Three. Someone who was Red and is now a Three.”

Frazie waved the sheet. “That's the colored stickers?”

“Exactly,” Adam answered. “Minds separated from their brains start to degrade pretty fast and everyone’s got a different level of natural fortitude. Psychics have the strongest minds – even the latent ones – so they’d be graded Blue. Blues aren't conscious but you can tell they're Blue because they're restless. They look like they're having a nightmare or something. We put those near the front door so they can be moved across the street to Dr. Cao's department. Green is the next best condition. Green people appear to be sleeping normally; peaceful expression, closed eyes, normal color in their face, et cetera. Yellow is like medium-dead? Eyes half-lidded, slack jawed, feeling clammy. And Red is pretty much a dead person with a pulse. Their eyes are the tell on that one. If their eyes are going cloudy that’s definitely a red. We send those straight in to Mr. Helmut to keep them from degrading past the point of being able to repair them.”

Rez cringed. “Please tell me there’s no Reds in this group.”

“There wasn’t when we put them here, but there might be now,” Adam replied. “That’s why we’re here to check.”

“What if they’re at the back?” Dion asked.

“Let’s look!” Frazie slugged Dion in the arm. “C’mon whiner.”

Frazie flipped forward onto the nearest bed using the guard rails along the sides and progressed across the tops of the mindless people in a series of cartwheels and handsprings. Dion followed suit, using all his skills as an acrobat to reach the back of the hall without touching any patients.

Adam scratched his scalp below his hat. “Didn’t expect that.”

“Don’t know why not,” Raz replied.

“You said the eyes, right?” Frazie called as she balanced on one of the beds near the utility door. “Look for people with glazed-over eyes?”

“That’s right!” Adam called.

“I found one! Now what?”

“Allow me!” Raz said. He pressed his fingers to his temple and levitated the bed Frazie perched on up toward the ceiling. His sister did a backbend onto the adjacent bed and watched with pride as the gurney floated over its fellows and came to rest on the clear spot of floor in front of Adam.

The team leader double-checked Frazies assessment and gave her a thumbs-up. “Good work! Keep looking!”

“Aye, aye!”

Adam grabbed the gurney with his royal-purple mental fist. “I’ll take this one back to Helmut! Keep pulling them until I get back!”

“You got it!” Raz agreed.

The three Aquatos worked together, identifying Reds (and some "Oranges" probably) and pulling them free. Adam returned to grab their spoils and ferry them back to Bob and Helmut two or three at a time until there were only three remaining.

“Good job everyone!” Adam panted. “Are you sure that’s all of them?”

“All the ones I could find,” Frazie answered. “Want us to move on to the other colored stickers?”

“Think you can identify the categories on your own?” Adam asked.

Dion combed through his hair. “We are PROFESSIONAL civilian volunteers, thank you very much.”

“Carry on then, Aquatos!” Adam said. He beckoned to Raz. “I’ll lead. Bring the extra.”

Adam snatched the first and second beds and Raz followed with the third, this time noticing rooms marked with colored sheets of paper along the route back to the ICU. One of the Yellow rooms was full of parabolic chambers. One of the Green rooms used to be a family waiting room. Each of the colored wards had a Psychonaut attendant with one of Bob's clipboards as other agents moved beds in or out. Adam was right, even if it looked like people were being neglected, the system was working. If only they had the manpower to care for everyone right away.

Adam punched open the swinging doors to ICU and swung his beds in ahead of him. “This is it, Mr. Bob!”

“Good job.” Bob floated another stack of papers toward him. “I’ve got some names for you to find. Can your team handle it?”

“Absolutely!” Adam nudged Raz. “Ready for a scavenger hunt?”

“Always!”

Adam jogged back to the hall, but Helmut rolled up to Raz before he could leave. “Hey, kid!”

Raz bent over him. "Yeah?”

“Otto called down with a more thorough report of everything that happened. He said you were Mind Bombed." He rocked back in forth in a brain-ball expression of concern. "You doin’ okay? You need a nap or something?”

“Oh!” Raz softened. “No. Thanks Helmut. I’m okay. I wasn’t flung free for long.”

“Good to hear. If you start feeling kinda funky, just let me know. Sudden sensory restoration can mess you up. I’M happy to pop in and give you a hand.”

“Thanks, but it sounds like you’ve got your hands full, figuratively speaking.” Raz gestured to the Reds. “Adam said you get the worst ones.”

“Yeah, some are real bad off,” Helmut sank. “ It's pretty overwhelming.

“No panic attacks, I hope?”

“No, no. Close a couple of times, but Bob helps with that. He has everything all lined up and organized so I can just focus on the folks in front of me. These people are really hurting, but I know what it’s like to be scared like that. I prop ‘em up and hunt around for their identity until their minds can be located, although when they get to this point, it's more about sensing a vibe than getting a name. When the crew arrives with their minds, they’re pretty much just energy with a lasso around them.”

“If anyone knows how to read vibes, it’s you, Psi-King,” Raz said. “Keep up the good work.”

“Don’ my best!” Helmut replied. “Offer stands open. We’re not too busy to look out for our own if you need us.”

“I’ll let you know.”

Raz returned to the hall where Adam was waiting. “What was that about?”

“Nothing important.”

“One side, boys!” A field agent called. Raz tucked and rolled to the wall as a telekinesis-propelled gurney rushed past him followed by no less than three agents.

“An emergency case,” Adam guessed. “Wonder who it is.”

“It’s the mayor of Fanrong.” Morris Martinz rolled up on his levball-propelled chair. Despite the chaos and panic, he was as immaculately pop-collared and quaffed as ever. “He was in a helicopter when the bomb went off. We found it crashed on top of a skyrise.”

“And you brought him to Bob?” Raz asked. “He needs like a DOCTOR doctor.”

“The army guys took care of that part. Now he needs his brain sorted,” Morris said. “You know how Truman keeps harping about the brain-body connection ever since he got hijacked? How one can't survive without the other? This guy's like patient zero for that. His body isn’t going to heal right without his mind there to run the whole healing process. If he doesn’t get his mind back in him, he’s a gonner for sure.”

“Does Agent Boole have the mind recovered already?” Adam asked.

“Yeah, he had to go way out though. The bomb shot all three helicopter passengers straight up in the air. If we didn’t have Milla running periphery – ” Morris stopped himself. He rolled closer to Raz. “She's okay, right? Did you see her? Did you get here in time?”

Raz glanced up at Adam, inviting him into the private conference. “Yeah we did. Thanks for the tip.”

“Gisu said she'd gone nuclear," Morris said. "Is she going to be okay?”

“I think so,” Raz said, but even as he did, doubt crept in. Her glassed-over eyes, the way everyone was afraid to touch her, Sasha actually swearing when he saw her. Maybe they were closer to a mental-health tragedy than everyone was admitting. That would be a good reason for Truman to approve an EMP. Better her in mental recovery than permanently injured or dead. Raz swallowed hard. “Sasha's still with her.”

“Good,” Morris said. “He’s always been her ground, you know?”

“Yeah…” Raz deflated. “I just wish he could stick around."

“He’s leaving already?” Morris said. “But… didn’t he see what was happening? Doesn’t he care?”

“According to Otto, he won’t have a choice. Truman wants the Pelican crew back home, and Milla’s got too many minds in her head to go with them.”

“Chingdada madre,” Morris said.

“Maybe we can help her out.” Adam held up the stack of papers Bob just handed him. “We've got all these bodies organized by name. Can either of you do the Mental Lasso thing?”

“Not me.” Morris slouched. "Otto said that's 'advanced learning' which is bullshit if you ask me."

“I can't do the Lasso, but I've done the tie-down part before,” Raz offered. “And Milla’s already been collecting all the lassos in her mind. If we can get in there, we can locate the minds that belong to your bodies and hand them through from her side without pulling them into our minds at all.”

Adam thumbed his chin. “That could work, but how are you going to get in? I’m sure she’s locked down tight as a drum.”

“She said she’d leave the back door open,” Raz answered.

“That means the Collective Unconscious!” Morris determined. “Heck yeah, Raz, we’re back in business. Do you think Zanotto would notice you missing?”

“Actually, I’M his team leader if you don’t mind,” Adam puffed out his chest. “I don’t need three volunteers to identify bodies. Your sibs will be helpful and Milla needs you much more right now.”

Raz’s heart swelled, then deflated. “But how are we going to get into the Collective Unconscious? The only way I know is through a Brain Tumbler. I can’t imagine a non-psychic hospital will have one of those.”

“I know where you can get one.” Sam Boole’s voice said from directly above them. The trio looked up and saw her peeking through the ceiling tiles directly over their heads.

“Sam? What the hell?” Adam asked.

“I’ve been observing things,” Sam replied. “You wanna get a Brain Tumbler, I can get you a Brain Tumbler, but I ask something in return.”

“This is no time for your bridge troll schtick!” Morris said.

“I just need you to help me out with something. One little thing while you’re in the Collective,” Sam backed into the dark of the ceiling until only her eyes were visible. “What do you say?”

Raz frowned up at the lurking cryptid, weighing the value of helping Milla with whatever nonsense or nightmare might be folded into this bargain. He set his jaw. “It’s a deal.”

Sam giggled. "Okay. Follow me.

Chapter Text

Sam led Raz and Morris out of the hospital and back up the street to Psychonauts HQ. They avoided the front door, instead entering through a fire entrance opened for them by a stack of rats who then escorted them up a long staircase.

Morris levitated backward up the flights, eyeing Sam studiously out of the corner of his eye. He exchanged baffled glances with Raz after each floor. “So this Brain Tumbler you’ve found, I'm guessing the Psychonauts brought it with them?”

“Nope.” Sam said.

“So it was just part of this normal office building?” Morris persisted.

“Nope, nope.”

“Were you in charge of looking after it or… were you assigned to like, the tech department?”

“Nope, I was actually assigned to my grandpa's department,” Sam replied. “Agent Boole is in charge of stitching up the psychic victims like Agent Bob is assigned to stitching up the non-psychic victims, except a lot of the psychic victims are actually aggressive ghosts blowing stuff up."

"Wild Minds," Raz defined.

"Yeah, so he’s been using Fanrong’s animal population to scout the city and locate roaming minds and bodies the cops might have missed. I'm doing that job - the Wild Mind part, not the body finding part - specifically, I'm in charge of the rats."

Morris watched their swarm of leaping escorts. "I can tell."

"Brown rats are your general man-about town rats. Black rats are mostly down in the sewers, so I’ve been running squads both places. These guys, here, told me about the sixth floor.”

“What’s on the sixth floor?” Raz asked.

Sam grinned. “You’ll see.”

They arrived at landing number 6 and entered a darkened hallway full of private offices. Sam and her rat army led Raz and Morris up the hall to what looked like a closet, although Raz couldn't read the Chinese label. One of the rats peeled off and vanished around the corner. Moments later, the door clicked and opened on its own.

Regardless of what the closet used to be, the scene inside was unmistakable. Electronic parts, loose wires, meticulously organized tools, and half-built gadgets packed the small space. A single lamp hung from the ceiling, illuminating a workstation with a laser-gun-looking gizmo sitting at its center.

Raz marveled as he crossed the threshold. “Otto’s secret lab!”

“Yep! And it just so happens to hold exactly what you’re looking for.” Sam presented the laser-gun in grand fashion. “Ta da!”

“Um…” Morris rolled his levball to the table. “I think you’re confused about what a brain tumbler is.”

“This is the new and improved version,” Sam said. “I read his notes. Apparently not all of the agents assigned to the mental-navigator division are super good at brain hopping, so Agent Mentallis was thinking about ways to make them better and voila! The Brain Tumblr Mini TM!”

“He invented this in the last twenty-four hours?” Raz asked.

Sam shrugged. “You know what they say about necessity.”

“That it leads to us toasting our brains with a half-conceived and very unfortunately shaped gizmo?” Morris asked.

“Come on, you scaredy cats,” Sam prodded. “Do you want to help Milla or not?”

Raz DID want to help Milla, and it wasn’t like he’d never been brain-tumbled before. Still, the Mini looked haphazard. Sam was right in that necessity was the mother of invention, but haste also made waste and he didn't want his brain tossed in a bin. Still, the thought of Coach Oleander abducting a sleeping Sasha and leaving Milla all alone to deal with her exhausted body and over-crowded mind was worth a little risk. Raz raised his eyebrows to Morris. “Well?”

Morris groaned. “I’ll do it for Milla.”

“Great.” Sam put her hands on her hips. “First I need that favor.”

Raz braced for impact. “What is it?”

“I'll show you.” Sam walked over to a catering-style presentation platter and lifted the dome-shaped lid. Underneath was an extra-fat brown rat with bugging white eyes and it’s tongue lolling out of its mouth.

Morris scoffed. “What are we supposed to do with a dead rat?”

“He’s not dead. Mr. Rattatoing is just… indisposed.” Sam set the lid aside. “See, Gramps put me on scout duty because of the whole Zoolinguistic thing, but once I’d sent all my squads out to look I was out of stuff to do. I could see how much help the mind-cowboys needed, so I started trying to figure out how to do their Mental Lasso thing.”

“You taught yourself an advanced techinique? Just by watching?” Raz gawked at her. “Can you show me?”

“Oh sure.” Sam squinted her eyes shut. “You gotta astral-project first, then all you gotta do is think of a really long snake and visualize holding it in your hand.”

Morris sounded doubtful. “A snake?”

“Yeah. Helps to imagine it wearing a little cowboy hat – for the lasso part.” She pressed her knuckles to her temples and floated out of her own head. Her astral projection cocked her head to one side and thumped the upward-facing ear with the heel of her hand. Her signature strawberry-red mental energy sparked and a vaguely snake-shaped coil of glowing energy spooled out of her opposite ear and into her hand.

Raz and Morris both leaned in. “Whoa!”

“You really figured it out on your own?” Raz said. “Sasha said he didn’t have time to teach me. He made it sound complicated.”

"Maybe his way is harder?"Sam flicked the tail of the snake like a whip, leaving sparks of red. The lasso vanished as she sank back into her head. “It's easy enough if you're good at visualizing. The hard part is making the loop on the end.”

“Is that what you need our help with?” Raz pressed. “You couldn’t make a loop so you couldn’t hold on to Mr. Rattatoing’s mind and need our help to find it?”

“Oh, I’ve found it, alright.” She tapped her forehead. “He’s been running around in here for the past six hours and I can’t get him out. That’s the favor.”

“Get a rat’s mind out of your head?” Morris asked.

“And I assume put him back where he belongs?” Raz finished.

“I mean if you want to,” Sam said. “His mental acuity has degraded pretty bad since I pulled him out. Rats aren’t meant to astrally-project, you know. I’m pretty sure if you put him back in, he’ll just run into the walls.”

Raz frowned. “So instead we just let him float off?”

“Hm, that’s a good point.” Sam tapped her chin. “Do either of you want a pet rat in your head?”

“I'll pass,” Morris said. “Besides, neither of us knows how to do the Mental Lasso, let alone mind-walk into a rat to tie it down.”

“Rats are easy, their brain’s the size of a grape,” Sam said. “All they think about is mating and not getting eaten.”

“That makes me want to go in less,” Morris said.

“Let me try to make a Mental Lasso first," Raz said. "If I can't do it, that’ll answer this question pretty quick.”

Morris bit his lip. "Good luck."

Raz lowered his goggles and attempted to force himself out of his body. Before the Mind-Bomb, he'd only ever astrally-projected himself into a psi-portal, and it wasn't as easy to do without one. Psi-Portals were gateways to mental worlds, which is where Mental Projections belonged, so they acted like a magnet for projections. To maintain a free-roaming ghost-form required the psychic to not only mentally recreate their own body with their mind, but also to replace all the senses and functions they were missing using their psychic abilities. Lack of context is why free minds without psychic experience decayed or went wild, and Raz could testify to how unsettling it felt to find himself ghosted by a Mind Bomb. He thought back to watching Sasha astrally project himself earlier. Extending one hand palm-outward, Raz closed his eyes and pictured himself running down his own sleeve, tracing the seam in a spiral around his elbow, climbing the rolled-up cuff of the jacket Sasha gave him on his first day at the Motherlobe. His imagined self ran up the slope of his forefinger and jumped into thin air. Raz's head spun with a sudden pop of weightlessness. He tried not to notice how much the sensation reminded him of floating untethered in the rock of the Lowha Lasung mountain.

“Nice, Raz!” Morris cried. The echo of his voice scattered as if Raz were underwater. Raz opened his eyes behind his goggles and for a brief moment, beheld a ghostly image of himself floating in the air before his hand before the projection was sucked back into his face with a twang. “Ow.”

“You can’t open your real eyes, dummy,” Sam said. “Haven’t you astrally projected before?”

“I have.” Raz raised the lenses to rub his eyes. "Let me try again."

“Remember. You gotta visualize.” Sam stage-whispered into his ear. “Snake with a cowboy hat.”

Raz did not imagine a snake with a cowboy hat, but he could imagine a rope. He summoned up memories of pitching the family circus tent. He recalled the weight and texture of the heavy bundle of twine, the pull of its coil against his leather gloves, and the tickle of the frayed bits of fiber when brushed his bare arm. He thought about tying it into knots on the tent stakes – how he had to use his legs and stomach to get it as tight as he could. He drew this memory with him back out of his body. It was easier the second time, a lot more like leaping into a psi-portal. He kept his real eyes closed and opened the mind’s eye of his projection. He was floating in the space above the three Junior Pyschonauts, peering down at Sam, Morris, and his own body frozen in his “casting” position. His arms and legs were bluish and translucent, just like they had been after the Mind Bomb, except this time he held a thick length of sparking orange rope in one hand.

“That's it!” Sam cheered from very far off.

“It was easier than I thought it would be,” Raz thought back. The Mental Lasso was alive and tingly like Sasha’s and Oleander’s had been, only this time Raz could feel the electric charge in his head as well as his hands. The Lasso hung limp with weight like he expected a real rope to, and bolts of shining green energy raced along the twisted fibers, emitting a faint “whizz” as they went.

“You’re a natural, bro,” Morris said. “Now try and get the rat out.”

“Don’t forget the loop!” Sam shouted.

Thankfully Frazie used lassos in her Sugarcube act so Raz knew how to tie a traditional Honda knot. The rope she used to catch barrels and straw dummies was a lot thinner than the one he’d conjured from the tent memory, but he did his best with what he had, testing the strength of the loop with his before letting it swing. “Can you project Mr. Rattatoing’s mind out for me to catch?”

“If I could do that, I wouldn’t be asking you for help.”

“But I’ve only seen agents use a lasso on loose minds.

“Just put it on my head. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Raz sucked his astrally-projected lips. “Okay, if you say so.”

He could imagine a lot, but tossed the Mental Lasso toward Sam’s ginger head as requested. It caught around her crown and tightened, slipping straight through her skin and into her cranium. Sam went walleyed as it cinched tight.

“Ugh,” Raz cringed.

“Ugh!” Morris agreed. “Is it supposed to do that?”

“I don’t know!” Raz tugged the rope. He definitely had something caught. He hoped it was Mr. Rattatoing. “Here goes nothing.”

He gave the lasso a hard yank and the loop pulled back out through Sam’s forehead. He had Mr. Rattatoing, all right. The rat was bleary-eyed and panicked with all four feet scrambling in the air. Unfortunately, he also had Sam, who was bound to the rat as if he were the gemstone in a horrific tiara.

Sam's projection didn't come free easy. She stretched cartoonishly as she was drawn out, feet still stuck in her brain until coming free with a violent SNAP. Mr. Rattatoing went spiraling in one direction and Sam flipped in another. Raz’s lasso fell limp as the two floated off like lost balloons.

“Ahh!” Morris screamed.

“Ahh!” Raz thought-screamed.

Sam cooed soundlessly, dazed and awestruck in a dreamlike state. She floated through one of the shelving units, unimpeded by physical matter, and drifted up into the ceiling.

Morris pointed. “Catch her, Raz! Before we gotta go up a floor!”

Raz tied another knot and flung the lasso after her drifting projection as it vanished into the acoustical tiles. The lasso wasn’t bound by physical space, either, but caught on something in the ceiling. He yanked, hoping he hadn’t dementistrated another rat. Sam emerged from the ceiling, snagged by her ankle.

He pumped a projected fist. “Got her!”

“Now what?” Morris asked. “Do we stuff her back in? Drag her all the way back to the hospital and get Agent Zanotto and Mr. Fullbear to fix her?”

“Sasha told me on the plane that the next step of the Lasso is to pull the loose mind into your own head for safekeeping. I think I have to do that.”

“You need smelling salts?” Morris asked.

“No, no. I got it. Maybe if I just open my eyes…”

Raz became suddenly aware of his own physical body. His eyes opened behind his goggles and his projection sucked back in the same as before. He watched in fascination and mild horror as the Mental Lasso reeled into his forehead, towing Sam by the ankle until she, too, vanished into his mind. He felt her jostle around like a loose part in a broken toy, but didn’t go in with her. He raised his goggles and stared at Morris, dumbfounded.

Morris stared back. “Did you? I mean? You got her?”

Raz could feel something bopping around in his mental landscape. He covered his ears, trying to make out what was being done or said, but his mind was outward-facing not inward-facing. It was a little maddening. He closed his eyes and tried to turn himself inside-out, but it wasn’t as easy as visualizing a lasso in his hand. He needed help.

Morris rolled closer, brow knit. “Raz?”

“Brain Tumbler,” he grunted.

“You mean the Mini?” Morris asked. “You sure? We don’t even know if it works.”

“It’s that or back to the hospital,” Raz said. “We could always go upstairs and tell Otto we found his secret lab.”

“It’s your call, dude.”

Raz understood why Sam asked them for help. She wasn’t even a rat and her presence was unnerving at best. Raz thought about all the minds he’d visited. The psychic manifestations of each mind's owner he met in those mindscapes were not their owners’ conscious constructions like the teachers' were. The Fred and Edgar he saw in their habitats were personifications of their subconscious. Was Sam in there talking to a subconscious version of him? Was she tidying up his figments and unlocking memory vaults? The thought made him shudder. He’d always been a mind-walker, never the mind-walked. Raz pressed his hands against the earholes of his helmet and tried to listen to his own thoughts but it was like thinking through a confusion grenade. Everything was upside down and inside out. He nodded. "Let's do the Mini."

“Okay.” Morris rolled to the desk and picked up the tiny Tumbler. He searched the sides for an on-switch and pressed it. Lights flashed across the top and a caged fan on the side spun to life with a high-pitched whine. “I was wrong. It's not a gun, it's a hair drier."

"I guess that's reassuring."

"Do I just aim it at you?”

“Heck, I don’t know!”

“Wait!” Gisu burst through the lab door on her skateboard, skidding to a stop. She grabbed the Mini from Morris’s hand and switched the gizmo off. "Are you stuipd?"

Morris rolled back, affronted. “What?”

“You wanna blow his head off? Let me do it.” Gizu grabbed a screwdriver and went to work on Otto’s device.

Raz squinted at her, Sam still bopping about unsupervised. “Is there a security camera in here, too?”

“Of course there is.” Gisu replied. “I rushed down here the minute I saw what happened. Knew you all would screw something up.” She took a metal plate from the worktable and attached it to the Mini to cover the fan. “There. Otto was messing with the cooling unit.”

“And it’s safe now?” Morris asked.

“More or less.” She grabbed a curved bit of wire from the desk that turned out to be a mounting stand. She fit the Mini to the top and maneuvered Raz beneath it until both were in position. “Okay. That’ll do it.”

“Wait. I’ll need someone in Sam’s mind, too.”

“I’ll go,” Morris said. “Do you have your psi-door?”

“Yeah, here.” Raz TK’d it out of its designated pocket in his backpack. “When Oleander did it, he opened up a window and handed the end of the string through to me. Do either of you know how to do that?”

“You’ll need one of these.” Gizu rummaged in a drawer and pulled out an over-sized magnifying glass. The handle was twisted with red wire and a capsule of purple Psitanium. “It’s called a Looking Glass. Its like a psychic field phone.”

Raz took the gizmo. “Otto really needs to work on his naming conventions.”

“At least he didn’t name this one after himself,” Gisu said. “This works like the Otto-shot. You carry a mental copy of it into your mind with you. When you want to use it, turn the tuner and dial up who you want to call.”

Suddenly the perfectly circular opening the coach reached through in Zheng Wei’s mind made a lot more sense. Raz tucked the Looking Glass into his backpack. “Got it.”

“I’ll watch the door. Make sure no one walks in on you. I already froze the camera feed down here… you’re lucky you’ve got me on security. If Otto finds you messing with his stuff he’s going to be PISSED.” Gisu switched on the Mini and took her place on guard. The gizmo sputtered and coughed, then buzzed to full life. Raz felt the familiar pull of the Brain Tumbler at the back of his head as the gizmo drew him inward, out of his body, through the barriers of his own mind, and into the Collective Unconscious.

Chapter Text

Compared to Sasha’s Mental Neighborhood, Raz’s was a humble little cul-de-sac. Still, what started as a simple ring of doors had grown into a node-based network of islands and peirs representing his family, his teachers, his classmates, and everyone he’d helped in his short time as a Psychonaut. Minds he’d entered automatically clustered around his center, but new ones had popped on as he forged closer attachments to the people of his new life.

He had yet to visit the mindscapes of his fellow Junior Psychonauts. Truman said it wasn’t appropriate for them to mindwalk each other unsupervised until they were all practiced enough to build safety nets and walls. The excuse was something about security being a top priority for every Psychic and the fact they were all technically still minors putting too much liability on the agency. In spite of all that, a door still existed for each of the former interns in Raz's corner of tbe Collective. He spotted Sam’s leopard and zebra-print door a quadrant above him as he swung his way along the nodes and into his own tent-shaped doorway

. Raz tucked and rolled to a stop in the landing zone of his own mindscape and looked up to see the smoky void around his family’s traveling caravan surrounded in a ring of polka-dot green wallpaper.

“Raz, there you are!” Sam was on a stepladder with a bucket of paste and her red hair tucked back with a kerchief. “Took you long enough!”

“What are you doing!?” Raz cried.

“It was just so dreary in here I got bored. Then inspired!” She unrolled the bolt of yellow and blue striped wallpaper she had clamped under her arm. “Like it? It spoke to me.”

“Where did you find that?” Raz asked.

“Manifested it.”

“You can manifest things in my mind?”

“Oh Raz, it’s just like building a mental construct,” Sam said. “It’s all about visualizing! Use your imagination.”

“But I didn’t agree to that! This is my mind, not your mind!” He said. “Take it down!”

“What? But I just put it up!”

He crossed his arms. “Take it down, Sam. I’m sending you back home.”

“You’re no fun.” She stuck the long trail of stripes to an exposed patch of wallpaper paste and slid down the ladder. “Thanks for not letting me float away, though.”

Raz lost his high ground. “Sorry for pulling you out of your head.”

“That’s okay. I was just as surprised as you were.”

“Hold still and let me put another Lasso on you.” Raz conjured up another rope.

Sam raised her hand. “No need for that, Raz.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not a Wild Mind, silly. I was just involuntarily projected.” She smirked. “If it was that easy to break a mental tether, terrorists wouldn’t need to make human bombs to do it.”

“So you’re still attached to your own mind right now? You could have gone back to your head this whole time?”

“Yeah, but I waited for you.”

“Waited? You scared us half to death! We thought we were going to have to tow you back to the hospital.”

“Oh no,” Sam dismissed. “I mean, maybe if I wasn’t psychic you could have snapped me free of my brain. Or if I was a baby. Or a rat. How’s Mr. Rattatoing, by the way?”

“Oh… uh…” Raz grimaced. “I think he floated through the wall.”

“Ah well, at least he’ll have Rico.”

“Who’s Rico?”

“The rat I was practicing on before him.” Sam said. “Do you want to go help Milla now?”

“First I gotta call Morris. He’s in your head waiting for me to hand you through to him.”

Raz pulled out the Looking Glass and switched it on. A tiny screen on the handle turned on revealing an image of Raz’s own face. He twisted a knob on the side and cycled through everyone whose doors were represented in his neighborhood: Oleander, Sasha, Milla, Linda, Boyd, Gloria, Fred, Edgar, Laboto, Hollis... He finally reached the Junior Agents and stopped at Morris’s face. The thick, warped lens of the Looking Glass rippled and opened a window to Morris who was rolling through a lush jungle full of flowering plants.

“Is that your mind?” Raz asked. “I’ve never seen it before.”

“I haven’t either, really,” Sam said. “Coach put me in the Brain Tumbler once, but he said it was unproductive.”

“Hey!” Morris rushed to the circular window and peered through. “Sam? You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, you guys worry too much,” Sam said. “How do you like my crib?”

“It’s got mosquitos,” Morris said and slapped his neck.

“Imaginary mosquitoes,” Sam rolled her eyes. “Join us over here. Raz’s place has literally nothing in it.”

Raz glared. “Hey!”

“Where’s your portal-maker guy?” Morris asked.

“Over by the pyramid. You know what, this is faster.” Sam thrust her hand through the lens of the Looking Glass, burying her arm to the shoulder. Raz heard shuffling and squawking before Morris was yanked through the opening by the collar. He spilled onto the floor of Raz’s mindscape first with his lawn chair following. The metal chair beaned Raz in the head before clattering onto Morris like a stiff blanket.

“Güey” Morris groaned and righted himself.

Sam shut the Looking Glass off and handed it to Raz. “There we go. The gang’s all here.”

Raz tucked the glass in his backpack. “How do you know all this stuff, Sam? I get Gisu knowing about Otto’s lab, she’s still his assistant, but you aren’t a technology person. Did the coach teach you?”

“Coach doesn’t care about gizmos. He’s a big picture guy,” Sam says. “No, the rats showed me all this.”

“Rats?”

“The rats see everything, Raz.” Sam’s smile faded. Her eyes drifted out of focus. “Rats see all.”

“This has become way more than I signed up for,” Morris grunted, rubbing his face. “Are we going into Milla’s head now or what?”

“If we aren’t already too late.” Raz jogged. “Come on, Oatmeal’s around the back of the caravan.”

“Oatmeal?” Morris asked.

Raz stopped in front of the portal-popping worm chilling in the mist. “His name.”

“They have a name?” Morris pulled a face. “I always just called him an earwig.”

Raz grimaced. “An earwig? Ew.”

“He never told ME his name.” Sam bent over the wiggling little wormie. “Why didn’t you tell me your name, huh? You talk? Why didn’t you say something?”

Oatmeal buzzed at her and inflated a spit bubble, sucking the three of them out of the conversation and back into the Collective Unconscious.

Raz’s neighborhood had shifted in the short time he was in his head. As he, Morris, and Sam emerged from his tent door, they found themselves standing on a rippling path. Sam’s door had shifted closer and attached to the sidewalk. Morris’s was right beside her’s adorned a giant pair of headphones and an array of platinum records. Ahead of them, Milla’s Dance Party rose into view, summoned by the unspoken desire of all three to enter it.

“Convenient.” Sam conjured up a raspberry-colored levball and bounded across the gap. “See you all in there!”

“Sam! Wait!” Morris cried, but she’d vanished into the pool of light. He conjured a blue and yellow trampoline platform and bounded after. “She’s gonna make it worse!”

Sick panic seized Raz’s imagination as he recalled the discomforting buzz and thump Sam’s activity in his own head. Milla was asleep. Her mind was full to bursting. He grappled onto a node and propelled himself in her head.

He landed in the same lobby he’d appeared in for Levitation training at Whispering Rock. The patterned walls and colorful bohemian furniture was unchanged, but the vibe was completely different. The pounding thrum of Milla’s internal rhythm crackled baseless and crunchy as if through a public loudspeaker. The party lights were now flat floods with no gels or movement. Every inch of floor space was occupied by a person. The smell of burnt hair and sweat hit Raz’s nose at first breath. The air was warm and sticky from the crush of Chinese-speaking victims packed shoulder to shoulder. Everywhere Raz glanced, he was met with the adrenaline flashes of direct eye contact. The people were pleading for an explanation, each one a normal citizen of Fanrong who’d been going through their normal day only to find themselves captive. Those Bob would called Blues and Greens sought comfort in huddles. Yellows shuffled against them and around them with thoughtless expressions. The Reds who were too weak to manifest a new body floated above the mass in clouds of white sparkles like balloons tied down by one of Milla’s fuschia-pink Mental Lassos.

There was no sign of Sam or Morris in the forest of limbs. Raz had to follow the rules of the house and float for a better view. He summoned a levitation ball and hopped straight up in the air before transitioning to a thought balloon. Those around him squawked in a alarm, his psychic powers one more nightmare to their weird waking dream.

The crowd was even thicker than his first impression. Thousands of pink Lassos looped and spooled through the crowd until they converged at a single point in the middle of the room. Raz remembered the statue of the little girl in Zheng Wei’s mindscape. Milla had anchored each loose mind to something in her head to secure them. Raz drifted back to the ground and started following the tethers inward, hoping Sam and Morris would do the same.

The more people Raz’s past, the more it made his stomach turn. This wasn’t the way Milla Vodello treated her guests. Every camper who came through her levitation training course was given individual attention, and her calm, soothing nature made everyone feel safe even as they were throwing themselves against walls. If she had a choice, she would never leave people shivering and afraid in her presence. It was antithesis to her entire personality, but speed and necessity won out. His heart broke for them and his heart broke for her – even moreso when he arrived at the anchor point at the crowd’s center.

An old wooden crib stood in contrast to plush, modern surroundings. The slatted walls of the bed were woven thick with the tethers of the masses. Raz dropped his arms to his sides, he didn’t know why he was shocked. Not all deeply rooted memories were based on love or connection. Of course the memory rooted deepest in Milla Vodello was the one that changed her whole life.

“Razuptin,” Milla’s voice muttered, soft and worn at the edges. Raz turned to see her standing behind him with dark bags under her eyes and her hands clasped in front of her.

His heart twisted in his chest, filled with pity, empathy, and shame. He never intended to see this raw side of her. It felt like a violation. His voice cracked. “I thought you were asleep.”

“I am asleep, sweetie.” She tried to smile, but it was weak. Her eyes were clouded with exhaustion. “I felt someone moving around in here, so my mind returned me to shallow sleep to I could see who it was.” She blinked slowly. “Can I help you with something?”

He swallowed, stirring his sour stomach. “No we…. I wanted to help out. I thought that while you were sleeping, I could come and clear some of these minds out of your head, so you could leave on the Pelican with Sasha.”

A bit of color returned to her cheeks. “That’s very thoughtful of you, but Sasha’s already gone.”

Raz’s heart sank. “What?”

“The Pelican crew left half an hour ago.”

“Did…” Raz gulped. “Did the coach have to kidnap him?”

“Kidnap?”

“Otto said they’d have to smuggle Sasha out in his sleep.”

“Oh.” Milla smiled behind her hand. “No, darling. He went willingly. And he apologizes for not saying goodbye. They were in a bit of a rush.”

Raz’s spirit lifted. “You can talk to him again?”

“But of course! You know we’re never more than a thought away, recent circumstances notwithstanding.” She sighed. “But those concerns are over now. No more Psilirium fences or solo recovery missions for us.”

“And are you feeling okay?” Raz pressed. “Sleep helped?”

“Yes, darling. Thank you for asking.” Milla’s brow knit. “You said ‘we’ earlier? Are there more in here with you?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got ‘em,” another familiar voice spoke aout. The crowd shuffled as Helmut Fullbear – hat, mustache, cloak and all – ushered Morris and Sam into their midst.

“Agent Fullbear!” Milla beamed, even more herself. “Always a joy to see you in the flesh, darling!”

“As close as I come to it, anyway.” He slapped himself on the hip and gestured to his two charges. “Caught these party crashers rushing the line over by the bouncer. Bob had a feeling something went screwy when two Junior Agents vanished under our watch, but the pieces didn’t click until Dr. Cao called us to say that your brain waves went wonky.”

“Milla!” Morris zoomed over to her. “You’re here! Gisu said you were like a hurricane or something. I thought you’d lost it.”

“So sorry to have frightened you, darling.” She conjured a pink leviball and sat beside him. “As I understand it, I owe you a ‘thank you’ as well. Sasha said you called him for help.”

“Uh, yeah, uh…” Morris scratched the back of his head. “No one else was doing anything.”

“I should be chastising you about spying on official channels and breaking the rules, but I’m grateful you did.” She smiled. “We are government agents, but we are also humans and you did not forget that even with orders from the Grand Head. I am happy to know that you and the other Junior Agents care so much about my wellbeing that you were willing to take a risk.” She squeezed his arm and raised her eyes to include Raz and Sam in the lecture. “It is important, however, to weigh those risks carefully. Saving me from further harm is one thing, but leaving your post to come in here and complicate things is another. I have no doubt you had good intentions, but I am being well cared for by Dr. Cao and you three are very badly needed elsewhere. If you prove yourself untrustworthy to your teams, they won’t be able to rely on you when it counts.”

“So what do we do for now, then?” Sam asked. “Just sit around and take orders?”

“Use your best judgment, sweetie,” Milla said. “Support your teams as best you can in the places you were assigned, because every moment we spend here is one that Agent Boole, Agent Zanotto, and Agent Fullbear are short-handed. I am sure Helmut has very important work he should be doing instead of chasing three wayward minds.”

Raz spoke on behalf of the three. “Sorry about that.”

“No sweat pipsqueak, just ask next time.” Helmut poked Raz in the head. It gave him a certain thrill, considering how rare interacting with all of Helmut typically was. Helmut offered a hand and helped Milla up off her levball. “As it’s happened, this gives me a chance to consult you a moment. I know you gave us carte blanche to start liquidating your guest list, but Bobby wants to get a filing system in order - you know him. Do you mind if we do some redecorating in here?”

“Not at all, darling. Do whatever you like with the front of the house. In fact, while I’m awake enough to think about it, I think I can help make some room for you to work,” Milla said. With one purposeful touch, the old crib vanished back to the nightmare it belonged in, releasing all the tethers in a flash of pink light. The loose minds marveled as the loops around their chests and limbs released. Milla rose to float above them and clapped her hands for attention.

Her voice projected like a loudspeaker. “Attention everyone!”

The minds faced her, drawn by her warm tone.

“I know most of you cannot understand me,” she said, “but I still want all of you to be greeted and welcomed. Thank you so much for your patience. Tomorrow this will feel like a marvelous dream, but for now, relax and enjoy. This party is for you!”

The lights shifted from flat brightness to colored spotlights as the music swelled, thumping Raz’s diaphragm with a deep dancing beat. The giant bouncer statue in back raised its arms in the air and revealed a new chamber waiting beyond the entrance ramp. Instead of the head of the levitation course, a broad dance hall stood, papered in stars and dancing with sparkles. A fully-stocked buffet and bar hugged the right wall, and one of Milla’s faceless dancers jammed on the turntables along the left. Between the two was a massive dance floor paved with lighted tiles. Discoballs threw flashes of light across a constant rain of streamers and confetti.

The minds around them ‘ooh’ed and ‘ahh’ed, their woes seemingly forgotten in the face of this new spectacle and entered the party as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Helmut let out a laugh that echoed above the tunes. “Groovy, Milla! I like it!”

“Naturally, darling,” she said as she descended. “I added a little empathetic spice to the mix. Nothing intrusive, just enough to enhance the surrealness of the moment and help sell the idea of a dream.”

“You can do that?” Raz asked. “Did you do that at Whispering Rock.”

“Of course not,” she said, affronted. “You children are psychic! You know what it means to hop into someone’s mind and experience a mental world. These poor people have never even heard of such a thing. It’s better for their mental health to lift the burden of disbelief. Afterward, when their minds are reunited with their bodies, our therapists will sit down and talk through all that has happened to them, but for now they can relax and enjoy and I can drift back down to REM sleep where Dr. Cao preferred I go from the start.”

“Are you still on the couch in the breakroom?” Raz asked.

“No, no. When Sasha woke me to say goodbye, I agreed to move to a recovery room. A small one. For observation.”

Raz bit his lip. “And you’re SURE you’re okay.”

Milla sobered. “I will be, Razputin.”

“Okay kiddos, it's time for you to go back to work,” Helmut told the Junior Agents. His brow leveled on Raz. “Except you.”

Raz gulped. “Me?”

“I don’t care what you said before, you need a nap.”

Raz flustered. “No, really. I’m okay! I want to help!”

“You’re starting to sound like someone I know very well,” Milla chastised. “Get some rest, darling. If Sasha and I need it, you need it even more.”

“You heard the lady,” Helmut said. “You’re off duty for the next five hours. I’ll call Otto to authorize it. Martinez, from here on you’re one-on-one with me. After you wake up from wherever the lot of you disappeared to, I want you back to the hospital.”

Morris gulped. “Is this a punishment?”

“This is strategy. You’ve shown everyone exactly how enthusiastic you are about helping our friend Milla...”

She nodded. Morris blushed.

“You and me will get to work on some kind of bouncer line or something for the lobby," Helmut finished. "Something to help sort all these people into Bob’s color system.”

“Rad!” Morris grinned. “I mean, yes sir!”

“I look forward to seeing your interior design,” Milla said.

“Check in when you feel better,” Helmut winked. “Good night, Agent Vodello.”

“Good night, Agent Fullbear. Good night, Junior Agents.” Milla gave a grateful nod and vanished through the floor as a ball of light. The other four pulled out smelling salts. Raz had used up the set Sasha gave him in the Lowha Lasung monastery, but still had Maloof’s case from Whispering Rock in his backpack. He took a strong whiff and woke up alongside Morris and Sam in Otto’s secret lab. The Brain Tumbler Mini was still running. Raz’s head was killing him.

“Took you long enough!” Gisu cried.”Sam successfully back in her own head?”

“Actually, we went to a dance party,” Sam popped Raz’s psi-portal off her forehead and tossed it back to him. “I gotta report in to Grandpa. Let me know if you see any ghost rats on your cameras, okay?”

“Whaa?” Gisu asked.

“Thanks for lookin’ out.” Morris said briefly.

“Yeah, you’re a champ,” Raz punched Gisu’s arm as the three filtered back to the hallway. “Goodnight!”

“Good… night? What? But it’s nine in the morning!” Gisu cried.

The ghost of Mr. Rattatoing squeaked somewhere in the walls.

Chapter Text

Sleep was EXACTLY what Raz needed. His official wakeup time was 2pm local time, so he bedded down in his assigned corner of the Junior Agents' conference room and dropped straight to sleep. He dreamed about being an untethered mind, floating through the Motherlobe like a balloon. He drifted past people he trusted – Truman, Hollis, Sasha, Lili – flailing and begging for help, but no one saw him until he slipped out into the quarry and floated into the sky. He was approaching outer space when a raspberry-tinted snake in a cowboy hat bit him on the arm.

Raz sprang flailing back to the waking world. "Ahh!"

“Hey!” Lizzie cried and dropped his arm. "Rude, Pooter!"

She and Norma were leaning over him. The clock on the wall read 1:00 pm. Raz wiped drool from his cheek. “What’s going on? What's happened?”

“You almost slept through the action, that’s what happened,” Norma replied.

Panic seized him spine first. “Did Hornblower attack? Was there another Mind Bomb? News from HQ? Is Milla still okay?”

“Whoa, cool down there, bud,” Lizzie said. “Geez you're uptight, aren't you?"

"Relax, this is the fun kind of action," Norma said, conspiratorially, "Compton’s located another Wild Mind out in the field and all the other agent teams are busy, so he's called in the Natividad sisters to get their hands a little dirty."

Lizzie cracked her knuckles. "We saw you being a lazy bones and thought you’d like to get in on a little ghost bustin’.”

The idea was exciting, but Milla's lesson from the dance party was still fresh in his mind. “I’m actually assigned to Agent Zanotto’s team.”

Norma rolled her eyes and adjusted her glasses. “You’re such a snob.”

“Come on, Pooter. You’re not really going to skip out on honest-to-god field work to follow the RULES, are you?" Lizzie pressed. "We get to use psychic powers out in the open on a REAL city street fighting a REAL psychic threat! When’s the next time we’re going to get to do that?”

Raz sucked his teeth, neglecting to mention that he’d already done that once on this mission and would probably end up doing it again.

“Whatever, kid. Do what you want. This was only a courtesy call, you know,” Norma said. “We are the ones being called up for work. We just thought you’d enjoy the fun. Of course if you’re too scared of Bob Zanotto...”

“No, no, no!” Technically he was officially off duty until 2pm. That was an hour away. Maybe if he was quick… “I’m in.”

“Great.” Norma grinned. Rarely a good sign. “There’s a transport downstairs. Get your stuff. We'll meet you on the elevator.”

Norma and Lizzie left giggling. Raz laced up his shoes, made sure all his comics and things were still in his backpack, and dashed to join them on the elevator before the doors closed. The three Junior Agents rode down to the first floor where psychic triage was still bustling with patients and nurses. Without Milla to worry about, Raz was able to pay attention to the agents moving from person to person. Everyone in the building - barring the People's Republic military personel - was a psychic. Raz wondered how many of the Fanrongians KNEW they were psychic before the Mind Bomb went off. Probably not many, considering how many Wild Minds there were. Those in the lobby were awake and aware, although looked very confused. Agents and translators spoke to the more mindful-looking ones. Some were handed papers - were they recruiting? A girl close to Mirtala’s age ran through the crowd with a yellow legal pad. Raz paused to watch, remembering the last moment of normalcy he'd experience before this Hornblower thing took everyone's minds, bodies, and attention. The little girl handed the writing pad to a blonde Psychonaut who thanked her in Chinese and continued speaking with a shivering man on the ground. The girl dashed from the blonde to a Chinese man consoling a weeping teenager a couple feet away.

Raz stopped in his tracks. Even without the grease-covered apron, there was no mistaking who it was. Zheng Wei. Raz waved for Norma and Lizzie’s attention. “I’ll be right back!”

“Huh?” Lizzie asked.

Norma put her hands on her hips. “We’re not going to be late because of you!”

“I’ll only be a second!” Raz wove through the clusters of patients to Zheng Wei and who Raz assumed was his daughter. He stopped a pace off and waved at them. “Hi there! Remember me?”

Zheng Wei practically leaped away in shock.

The girl conferred with him in Chinese and turn to Raz. “It is you! You helped father?”

“You speak English!” Raz cried.

The girl blushed. “Little.”

“What’s your name?”

“Ling,” she said. “You?”

“Raz.”

“Razzzzz.” Ling lingered on the hard 'z' at the end and giggled. “Funny.”

Raz grinned. “What are you two doing here?”

“Father wanted to help. He is … “ Ling struggled for a word. “Brain show.”

“Psychic,” Raz said.

She laughed, as if it was obvious and raised her foot. “Psy… kick.”

“Did he know he was Psychic already?” Raz asked.

“No, but learning!” Ling tapped her head. “Maybe me too? When the bomb went off, I flew around but not scared. Thirty-three says that could mean powers! Maybe. Some day."

"That's neat," Raz said. "But what are you doing here?"

"Father sits with other people like him. Talks to them about brain kick.”

“PSYchic.”

She pouted – again very Mirtala of her. “Talking makes everyone feel better. Father, too.”

“That’s great to hear. I’m glad you’re both okay.” Raz frowned. “You said Thrity-three?”

“Yes?” The woman with the notepad turned around. She was statuesque with bobbed blonde hair and sharp cheekbones. Raz recognized the tone of her voice. It was the agent who answered Sasha’s call from the Pelican and told him that information on Milla was classified.

“Agent 33,” Raz said, shrewdly. “We haven’t actually met.”

She replied, meeting his tone. “We shouldn’t be meeting now.”

“Why are you working down here in the lobby? Shouldn’t you be on coms? Where I ASSUME you were assigned?”

“My coms shift ended at five this morning,” Thirty-three answered. “I’m volunteering my free time down here.”

“Uh huh,” he said.

“Is this about the call on the radio?” She brushed her hair out of her eyes. “Don’t blame the messenger, kid. I assume you’re upset because your team is getting a dressing-down about disregarding directions. Notice that that has nothing to do with me. It doesn’t matter to me who gets in trouble with who, I was just following orders.”

“Just seems a little suspicious,” Raz said. “You said you were just following orders. Do you follow these orders often. Did you follow orders when we called Motherlobe before the Rhombus of Ruin for example?"

Thirty-three pouted. "I was not working coms before the Rhombus Incident. I was on vacation"

"At the Lady Luctopus while Gristol Malik just HAPPENED to be there?” Raz pressed. “A place where Psychics are NOT ALLOWED?”

“Dry up, kid,” Thirty-three said. “Yes, I was at the Lady Luctopus… utilizing their spa and country club where psychics ARE allowed. As long as they don’t place or take bets and don’t participate in any sponsored competitions. Which is fine. I don’t care for golf, but I do like a hot-stone massage. Is that a crime?”

“No, I guess not,” Raz said. Otto confirmed that the order to go straight to the Motherlobe did come from Truman, after all. Perhaps he was being unfair. “You don’t know anything about the Mentalists, do you?”

“First you think I’m a Deluginist, now you think I’m a Mentalist?” Thirty-three scoffed. “I suppose I should expect no less from a ten year-old special agent.”

“I didn’t say you were one, I just asked if you knew anything about them.”

“I know a lot about them. They’re psychic supremacists,” Thirty-three said. “They believe that psychics are the next logical step in human development, and that our mistreatment across the globe is merely old biological hardware afraid of becoming obsolete. I admit I can see a bit of their side, but that doesn’t make me a terrorist. I have plenty of friends who are non-psychics and I wouldn’t want to kill them just because I think they’re diminished without powers.”

Zheng Wei asked something in Chinese. Ling translated. “Something wrong?”

“No, nothing,” Thrity-three said. “Ask your father to sit with Mr. Xiǎo, here, a while. He’s having a hard time.”

“Yes, miss!” Ling said and obeyed.

Norma cleared her throat loudly from the door. “Agent Aquato? You coming or not?”

“I am!” He narrowed his eyes at the blonde. “Carry on, Agent.”

“I intend to, thanks,” Thirty-three said with a snort.

Raz returned to Norma and Lizzie who were groaning up a storm. Lizzie kicked the revolving door to get it moving. “Circus seconds must be longer than real seconds because that took forever.”

“I was investigating,” Raz said. “Do you know much about Agent 33?”

“Yeah, she’s an Omnilingualist,” Lizzie said.

“That means her psychic affinity is understanding and translating languages,” Norma defined with the over-sweet tone of a kindergarten teacher.

“I know what an Omnilingualist is,” Raz said, neglecting to admit it was because of comic books. “Why’s she got a number and not a name?”

“Well, I heard it’s because in her real life, she was a convicted criminal,” Norma said.

“Nuh uh,” Lizzie contested. “I heard it’s because she’s a stealth agent and that her name is a secret to protect the agency. No one knows her real name, not even Truman.”

“That’s dumb. The Grand Head would have to know her name,” Norma said.

“Not if he wiped it out of his head for security.”

“How would not knowing who works for us enhance our security?” Norma asked. “That makes no logical sense.”

“And hiring a convicted criminal does?”

“Sure it does! Compton was a convicted criminal and he’s YOUR mentor,” Norma replied. “And Raz found out Hollis was a criminal, too. She just didn’t get convicted because she called the Psychonauts before she could get arrested. Right, Raz?”

Raz’s heart seized and plummeted. “I… uh… I promised not to discuss that stuff.”

“Evasion!” Norma said. “Proves I’m right.”

“Proves nothing. Thirty-three is NOT a criminal,” Lizzie said. “And if she is, changing her name doesn’t do anything about changing her face. I’m sure there were mugshots.”

“Not if she committed her crimes while invisible,” Norma said.

Lizzie's head lolled back. “Oh my god, stop! Next you’ll tell me she’s an alien under cover.”

"Aliens don't exist, idiot."

“Actually,” Raz interrupted. “Until science proves otherwise, aliens are still a statistical possibility.”

“Oh my GOD shut UP!” Lizzie groaned again. “I hope the Wild Mind fries you both.”

The three of them piled into the black transport van waiting for them at the curb. The vehicle was driven by local police with a People’s Republic of China insignia sewn on their uniforms. Raz watched them through the window, but lost interest when he noticed Compton Boole was and Cassie O’Pia waiting on the foreward-most seat. Both were dressed in formal Psychonaut-gray suits. Lizzie and Norma went to stiff attention, but Raz cut a broad smile. “Compton! Cassie!”

“Hello there, Raz,” Cassie said. “Weren’t expecting us along, were you?”

“Nor were we expecting YOU.” Compton raised his heavy brows under his bowler cap. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”

“I woke up early,” Raz said. “Is it okay if I come help?”

“Oh, I suppose,” Cassie said. “Otto keeps saying ‘All hands on deck.’ Why not yours, too?”

Compton knocked on the glass partition separating the body of the van from the cabin and the vehicle pulled forward onto the busy street. The block between Psychonauts HQ and the city hospital was barricaded off even though, logically, all the citizens of Fanrong were incapacitated. Republic cops moved the striped barriers and released the van into Fanrong proper. The city beyond was still and quiet, but not quite as ghost-towny as Buxing was after the Bomb. People still walked. Some businesses were open. Raz tapped on the window. “Are those people released from the hospital?”

“The Blues, yes,” Compton confirmed. “Those with a particular grasp on reality recovered quickly from the bombing once we’d connected them back to their own brains.”

“Mostly those who were asleep at the time the bomb went off,” Cassie said. “They thought they were dreaming. Also those under psychedelic influence. Someone used to having hallucinations just assumes they’re having another one. For people like that, the hard part is explaining that they are no LONGER hallucinating after waking them up.”

“The third option, of course, are Psychics who are already aware of their identities,” Compton agreed. “In a town this big, there were more than a few of those. The Wild Mind we are fetching today has been seen flitting about the suburbs for hours, now, purposefully evading capture. The state of the mind is Red, so it's not in full control of it's own faculties, but since it's still going I suspect that we have the body safely cared for back at HQ. We only located it because one of our released patients was allowed to move back home.”

“What kind of Wild Mind are we fighting, Mr. Grand Head?” Norma asked.

Compton pressed his lips a bit at his old title. His time as Grand Head of the Psychonauts was long ago and not particularly enjoyable. Raz didn’t know if it MADE him an agoraphobe, but it certainly didn’t improve his mental health. He regarded Cassie a moment for support and answered. “We believe they could be a Medium.”

“A Medium?” Lizzie asked. “Like someone who talks to ghosts?”

“Not ghosts,” Compton corrected. “Other minds."

“Like what Milla does?” Raz asked.

“Agent Vodello is a very gifted Aural Reader,” Cassie said. “She can sense the state of the minds around the world. She can channel other minds, but it’s not something a powerful psychic likes to do. To channel like a Medium does is to surrender control over your body to someone else.”

“Like when Malik put his brain in Truman’s body?” Norma tried.

“That’s a more physical version of the idea,” Cassie said. “Most Mediums don’t use their affinity very often. It’s like Precognition. Those who are naturally attuned to it can do it fairly easily. Sometimes accidentally. Those with training can even do it on command. Those without the natural predilection, however, can’t simply learn how to channel or see the future. At least not without heavy drugs. I’m pretty sure I had a vision once in Green Needle Gulch but it was hard to tell with all the LSD.”

The Natividad sisters gaped at her. Raz smothered a chuckle. The Psychic Seven did some crazy far-out stuff in Green Needle Gulch. He was surprised she wasn’t huffing pure Psitanium at the time.

Compton cleared his throat. “In any case. This Wild Mind has been like an open radio signal for a while now. No one was trying to contact this person before, but apparently another Psychic has tapped in and is having a bit of fun with them.”

Norma cleared her throat. “What kind of fun?”

“They’re not causing any damage, just skulking around places they don't belong. Exhibiting remarkable awareness for a Red,” Compton said. “It’s likely the controlling mind is merely curious, but we’ll see when we get there.”

“Is the Medium going to remember causing all this trouble?” Raz asked. “This extra Psychic isn't hurting them, are they?”

“No, no. It will likely register as lost time for the Medium," Cassie answered. "That is, if they remember anything at all at this point. When minds degrade this far, they lose a sense of self. We won’t find out the mind’s real identity until I’ve got them in my head.”

“Your head?” Norma asked.

“Yes. I will be the cowgirl on this rodeo mission,” Cassie giggled. “Cowgirl and babysitter. Can’t let Junior Agents into the field without a little supervision.”

“Lame!” Lizzie slouched in her seat.

Raz was thrilled to have Cassie and Compton along. He loved seeing the Psychic Six-now-Seven in action, it was like living one of his comic books in real life. And fighting a Medium was a new experience, too. More than one of the super-villains in True Psychic Tales were Mediums, but he'd never actually met one... unless Chloe Barge back at Whispering Rock was actually a Meidum. She did hear a lot of voices. In any case, he was also grateful not to be pulling out another Mental Lasso. He could still feel the echo of Sam poking around in his head. Maybe he could ask Compton or Cassie how to "turn his third eye inward" or at the very least pop in to tidy up. His discomfort wasn't important though. It was a real Psychonauts field mission and the excitement of that was more engaging than the feel of wallpaper clinging to his mental walls

Chapter Text

The black van ignored traffic lights, signs, and speed limits on its way through Fanrong. Evidence of previous Wild Mind activity zoomed past – scorch marks high on buildings from Pyrokinetics, juts of earth from Geokinetics, slashed plaster or broken siding from concussive Psi-blasts, and clusters of government workers sorting through piles of rubble and debris. Raz spotted a team of other Psychonauts at the far end of a branching street fighting an invisible foe with Psi-blasts and Lassos. A Wild Mind, but not the one Raz and his team were there for. The van sped deeper into the suburbs.

At least there weren’t a bunch of bodies laying around. The military had collected most of the obvious victims, but there was no telling how many people were still mindless in the apartments or businesses. They swerved around a couple wrecked and abandoned cars, but most of the path was clear. Vehicles were parked along the side of the street. Raz didn’t even notice they were wrecks before spotting broken headlights and smashed bumpers. Forklifts could have moved them to the sidewalks, but this looked like Psychic work. Was that what the average medium-rank Psychonaut ended up doing?

Raz drummed his fingers on the window. Perhaps he’d be assigned to a cleanup team like that someday, although something deep in his heart told him ‘no.’ He was being mentored by the two top field agents in the organization – three if you counted the coach – and had the confidence of literally all the founding members. He was climbing a completely different ladder up the ranks than the agents pushing gurneys in the hospital or moving cars in the street. The idea both made him excited and made him feel guilty. He couldn’t do anything the average psychic agent couldn’t do, at least technically. Instead, he’d gotten where he was by taking risks and putting himself in places other people told him he didn’t belong. He reflected a moment on the lecture Milla gave him and Morris in her mind, and the reprimand Sasha gave him when he went after the Wild Mind in Buxing. With one breath the adults told him to follow their rules and with the next they praised him for leaping by faith. It was confusing. Raz decided to talk to Lili about it when he got back to the Motherlobe. Maybe she had a better perspective since she also didn’t care about rules.

A sudden blast of blue flame brought the van to a screeching halt. Lizzie sat up straight. “What was that?”

“According to our information, that’s our Wild Mind.” Compton unclipped his seatbelt.

“I thought it was a Medium!” Raz said.

“True, but is seems the psychic controlling it is a Pyro,” Cassie said.

“Excellent!” Norma adjusted her glasses. “I love a firefight.”

“Hold on, Miss Natividad.” Compton stopped her at the van door as Cassie put up a mental shield. “This is a Wild Mind not a censor or a nightmare. You can’t attack them head on.”

“Why not? It’s not like we can kill them,” Lizzie said.

“It’s because they’re a person,” Raz answered in the seniors’ stead. “Maybe a person who is having a really bad day, but still a person. They haven’t done anything wrong, technically. We’re just here to contain them, not … I don’t know the word you want to use. Banish them? Defeat them?”

“Defeat is a good choice,” Compton agreed. “Razputin is right. And to continue the cowboy analogy from earlier, your job is to corral this mind in such a way that Cassie can lasso them. I will provide the Clairvoyant field to help you target, but you should use your own powers of Clairvoyance as well for accuracy. Try to capture the mind in a bubble shield.”

Another plasma blast struck and shattered the shield above the van. The Non-Psychic drivers covered their heads as the metal above them warmed. Compton pressed fingers to his temples and raised his signature mustard-yellow barrier around the vehicle instead.

“Phew! A tough one,” Cassie said and took over direction. “All right, Junior Agents, let’s give ‘em what-for!”

Lizzie leaped over Raz and onto the pavement. A third plasma blast hit Compton’s barrier. He tensed and it held, but Raz could see it’d taken damage. He rolled to his feet, ready to fight. The street was empty of people, including the Wild Mind, although Raz thought he saw a shimmer moving about in the air. He tried to get a bead on it, but Compton’s shield muddied his Clairvoyance. The Junior Agents formed a line at the edge of Compton’s shield. Compton raised one hand to get everyone ready. “On three…” he dropped fingers to count. “Go!”

The shield vanished long enough for him, Raz, Norma, and Lizzie to dash through. Cassie raised a lavender shield to replace it and keep the van covered.

“Open your minds, agents!” Compton called. “I’m going to blast the field. Locate where the mind pings!”

He sent a mental wave through the street. The Clairvoyant field was unimpeded by the physical world, just like Oleander’s in Buxing. Raz closed his eyes and felt the ripple of the floating mind hovering above the van. He focused his own power of Clairvoyance, but the mind whizzed off like a bullet, too fast to lock on. Raz shot three Psi-blasts ahead of its path. The Wild Mind skidded to a stop and he got a good Clairvoyant look. What once was a human projection was little more than a jumble of thoughts. Sparkles shimmered off the edges like embers, emitting a rainbow of faint colors. Raz frowned. Was that the Mind’s psychic signature? Or the Controller’s? He sent a mental hand out to herd the Mind to ground level, but a blast of fire from Norma drove it skyward instead.

“Hey!” Raz said. “I was doing something.”

“This is OUR assignment thank you,” Norma said. A wave of solid ice manifested beneath her and carried her into the air. Lizzie lifted Raz as well, using her Cryokinesis as both shield and platform to support her teammates. Raz surfed along the banks and curves of her path, shooting Psi-Blasts at the Wild Mind and focusing hard to keep a Clairvoyant image visible for targeting.

The Wild Mind growled in a low psychic tone. It spoke in a language he didn’t recognize. French, maybe? Before shooting another blue plasma bolt from the region that could have once been its head.

Raz raised a mental shield, but was preempted by an ice wall that took the impact, instead. Raz skated on with a backward glance at the melting barrier. “Thanks, Lizzie!”

“You owe me one!!” Lizzie shouted. She followed Raz and Norma’s paths from the ground, painting flos of ice ahead of them with her hands. The ice paths brought the combatants into a spiral around the Mind. Norma blasted the mind with flame, torching her own ice platform in the process. Lizzie compensated with a loop-the-loop that Norma took without flinching.

Raz zoomed in, shield charged and ready. He projected it forward, his signature orange and green shimmer encircled the lights like an eggshell. Raz staggered. The Mind was incredibly hard to hold onto. He focused all of his attention on the shield and let Lizzie’s ice path guide his movements. She banked him into a gentle ramp and deposited him on the ground.

“Good catch, Raz!” Norma jumped from the ice and landed on the sidewalk beside him.

“I can’t hold it!” He winced, his Brain Tumbler headache back in full force. “It’s kicking free.”

“I got ‘cha!” Norma raised a hand toward the floating shield and added a layer of red to the outside of Raz’s orange bubble, just as his it breached with a dizzying snap. Raz stumbled, but steadied himself and shook his thoughts clear.

Norma took on solo control of the Wild Mind with a withering. “Argh!”

“Gotcha sis!” Lizzie added her smoky-blue shield to the outside of the Red.

“Three on one!” Raz cried and added a fresh orange shield as an outer layer. Norma dropped hers before it broke, pausing just long enough to breathe before layering her red to the outside. Together, they created a three-way leapfrog of shields cycling blue to orange red to blue as the Wild Mind fought confinement.

Compton’s yellow hand manifested above the cycling orb and guided it toward the van. “Cassie?”

She dropped the shield over the van and shut her eyes. An astral projection of herself rose from her physical body. She held out an astral hand and a lavender-colored lasso spun itself together before her.

Compton turned to the Junior Agents. “Let it go!”

Raz, Lizzie, and Norma did so gratefully. The Wild Mind burst forward, only to be ensnared by Cassie’s Lasso and dragged toward the van. Two amorphous limbs clawed without fingers as the Lasso tightened around the Mind’s “neck.” Cassie opened her physical eyes and reeled the mind into her head. The Lasso met resistance. The Wild Mind fought back, tugging and bucking like a bronco. Cassie anchored herself more securely and grabbed the lasso with two lavender fists. Both parties yanked. The WIld Mind let out an echoing scream and ripped clean in half.

Raz gasped. The half of the Mind in the Lasso whooshed back to Cassie. The half remaining coalesced into the image of a young man. He was stunned beyond emotion, his wide eyes glowing plasma blue. Shoulder-length hair billowed off his scalp as he stared dumbly at his hands.

“Who is that?” Norma asked.

“Shh!” Compton scolded.

The Mind was thinking. Raz trained on the voice, his natural proclivity for telepathy coming through in the clutch as he heard the mind’s distorted voice think. “I’m loose! Auguste! Pull me out”

Raz leaped into action, thrusting his Astral Projection out through his face – easier the second time, or perhaps easier with intention – and conjured up his own Lasso to snatch the Controller. He flung his knotted loop with the full strength of his astral arm and caught the young man by the wrist just as he was starting to fade.

The young man jumped and stared straight at Raz’s projection. ”Psychonauts!”

His mental projection warped, stretching like Sam had as he was pulled against Raz’s tether. The captured projection contracted to a pinpoint and zoomed off at rocket speed. So did Raz’s Lasso, and doubling his grip, so did Raz.

In a blur, Fanrong receded like a speck below him. The panic chemicals that flooded his body were left far behind as his Astral Projection stretched out like the ribbons of a tattered flag. The young man at the other end of the Lasso cursed and swore in his own language. He was also noodling, but the other direction as he was drawn to wherever his body was. The boy whipped his wrist, trying to shake Raz’s Lasso. Raz was bopped about like a ragdoll, his mind stretched to snapping, but Raz held on with projected fists and mental fists as the world swept below him.

They were over the ocean. It must have been the Pacific. In the length of a blink they were back over landmasses again. Was it North America or South America? Were they headed for Argentina? He saw mountains and trees and snow and the ground rushing to meet him. He gasped and the scent of ammonia filled his nose.

He had a nose.

He had a body!

Raz dropped the Lasso and zoomed back across the distance to his own head. He hit himself with enough whiplash to knock him backward.

“That was a close one!” Compton patted Raz’s shoulder and tucked his tube of smelling salts back in his suit jacket. “We almost lost you.”

“I was in the air!” Raz cried. “We crossed the whole ocean!”

“Did you make it back to his body?” Norma asked.

“I didn’t get that far, but I think we were landing.” Raz said. “We were going somewhere cold.”

“Cold…” Compton puzzled. “That’s a clue if I’m not mistaken. Let’s get back to HQ.”

“Agreed. Hopefully Dr. Cao has Ms. Mèng body on hand,” Cassie said.

“Is that the Medium?” Lizzie asked. “Does she know who that guy was?”

“I’m afraid she doesn’t know much of anything at the moment,” Cassie reported. “She’s in a pretty sorry state. We can ask again when she wakes up, assuming she does.”

The black van was intact, although the roof was still smoking and the drivers looked terrified. Cassie spoke Chinese to one through the window and he started the engine. Raz and his team piled back into the vehicle and drove off just as backup arrived.

Raz was still feeling mentally stretched. The discombobulating effect of the plasma psychic’s pull on the end of the Lasso was worse than the Brain Tumbler regular OR mini size. It was almost Mind Bomb-y. Raz swallowed a nauseating lump in his throat. “Agent Boole?”

“Yes, son?”

“If you hadn’t used the smelling salts on me, what would have happened?”

“I bet you’re feeling a little bruised, aren’t you?” Compton said. “I know that feeling. The seven of us spun ourselves pretty far afield a couple times.”

He tried again in a tiny voice. “Would I have broken my mind-body tether? Like the Mind Bombs?”

“It's quite possible," Compton said. "You were moving very fast and going very far. It's hard to snap the connection of a Psychic to his mind without strong concussive force, but the thread can wither under stress. If you'd let go of your Lasso construct and weakened the connection further, it's possible that you could have been stranded somewhere between here and wherever you were going Then there's no telling how long it would take us to find you.”

Raz gulped, recalling the existential terror of tumbling through the Himalayan Mountains with no loose thoughts to claw back with. "You could put me back together when you did, though."

“We'd certainly try,” Compton said. “Of course there's no telling what state your mind would be in when we found it. The human animal is a whole creature, and our minds are intended to be a part of our brains. As psychics, our minds can wander safely knowing they have a place of safety – a home, if you will – to return to. Without a home, the mind goes feral and forgets what it is or who it used to be.”

“That’s why the Wild Mind we just encountered has lost all coelescence,” Cassie added. “Without a human brain to connect to, she forgot she was human at all. Even having found her now, we still might not have a chance to really save her. It's a difficult state to be in."

Compton nodded. "The reason the Psychonauts are here is to repair what damage we can but unfortunately, none of these poor people will ever be the same after this."

"Never ever?" Lizzie asked with a glance to her sister. "Not even with all the doctors and stuff?"

Compton shook his head. "I'm afraid sometimes there’s trauma there that even Otto’s Astralathe can’t fix. Every one of these victims have endured horrific injury, their subconscious minds will never forget what it was like to be lost and all future decisions will be tainted by that experience. Like an abandoned house cat gone feral, the mind will remember the betrayal and it will scratch, and claw, and defend itself however possible to keep from being hurt that way again.”

"That's why we are offering them post-traumatic therapy as part of our installation here," Cassie said. "With cooperation and exploration we can make the stress better. It's the least we can do."

Raz stared at his lap, shaken by how close he came to losing his mind for good. He poked at the figurative scar on his psyche, feeling the curl of the glue and paper stuck over it. Would Pergola's offer to close off doors help him feel more secure in his head? Would it fortify his “home?” If only he could see what damage had been done so he could fix it. If that was possible.

Cassie bent forward and patted his knee. “Don’t worry so much, Raz. Nothing bad happened. If we all stick together, we can keep each other safe.”

"Not to mention your stellar mental fortitude," Compton agreed. “Why didn’t you tell us you could make a Mental Lasso, Razputin? Very impressive.”

Raz blushed a little. “I only learned it this morning.”

“From who?” Compton asked. “Bob?”

“Your granddaughter, actually.”

“Sam!?” Lizzie and Norma cried.

Compton was aghast. “And who taught HER?”

Raz shrugged. It hurt his head. “I'm pretty sure she taught herself through observation.”

“Oh my. That girl is more crafty than I give her credit for,” Compton said. “These kids never cease to worry me.”

“Why not teach us the Mind Lasso?” Norma pressed. “Obviously it could be useful, and if Sam already knows…”

“Absolutely not!” Compton cried. “You children are not ready to play tug-of-war with people’s minds! You’ll scramble your brains!”

“Raz can do it,” Lizzie said.

“And look what almost happened to him!” Compton bounced a fist off his knee. “When you have some more experience, you will be taught this and more, but you can’t even enter your own mindscapes yet. How will you clean up the mess? It will put you all in Bob’s hospital.”

“Hopefully we won’t need to use it for much longer, anyway,” Cassie said. “It’s not a widely applicable power. It's very difficult to break the mind-body tether of a Psychic and pulling the minds out of Non-Psychics is illegal in most countries.”

Raz wondered how much jail time his experiment with Sam had earned him. He decided to change the subject. "Who was that Pyrokinetic guy, anyway? Did either of you recognize his face?"

“Not me, I don’t know the names and faces of the current Psychic threats,” Cassie said.

“I did not recognize him initially, but if the culprits are the Mentalists as Otto now suggests, it’s possible he is one of the Pyros in their employ,” Compton said. “Whoever it was, they must have been an extremely powerful psychic or else he would have been pulled into Cassie’s mind by the Lasso along with the Medium.”

“He was the strongest Astral Projection I’ve ever seen!” Cassie cried. “It was like wrangling a bull! And I’m no weak mind, either. Not only was he Astrally Projecting and using Pyrokinesis at the same time, his whole consciousness was in that Medium! This wasn’t someone poking around for fun. This is a trained Psychic for sure.”

“He was talking to someone else telepathically while he was floating there,” Raz said. “Auguste, I think? He said ‘pull me out.’ I bet he had a team helping him.”

“That could very well be the case,” Compton said. “If additional five or six Psychics were lending him their mental energy, it would strengthen his manifestation to the point that the energy required to perform those tasks would be a fraction of what was required normally. The real question is how he knew there was a Medium loose down here to inhabit, and by what means was he able to target said Medium from such an incredible distance! It’s an awfully long way for a large team to pinpoint, especially since the bombings are still being hushed up.”

“Why didn't he get tether-snapped, then?” Lizzie asked. "I thought that was why Raz nearly died."

"Distance does not matter in the Collective Unconscious," Cassie said. "With the proper technical and mental support, knowing where you're going is all that really matters. You should have read my book!"

The van parked outside HQ and let the team out.

Cassie swept to the door. “I’ll locate Dr. Cao. Get poor Ms. Mèng back where she belongs.”

“Take Razputin with you, he is supposed to be working mental recovery right now, anyway,” Compton said. “The girls and I are heading upstairs to do some research.”

“Research?” Lizzie groaned again. “We’re supposed to be field agents!”

“Research is a very important part of field-agenting,” Compton tutted at her. “You can’t fight someone you know nothing about.”

“Don’t we have people for that, now?” Norma asked. “Get Adam to do it. He’s mad for research.”

“Now, then. Stop complaining. You’re here to do a job and this is part of it. To the elevator with you.” Compton tipped his hat to the remaining agents. “Good luck, Cassie.”

“Good luck, Boolie.” Cassie beckoned to Raz. “Come along, young man. We have a mind and body to reunite.”

Chapter Text

Raz and Cassie entered the Psychonauts HQ lobby ahead of Compton and the Natividads. The sisters were sour in spite of the epic Wild Mind wrangling they'd all just pulled off. Raz watched them board the elevator over his shoulder as he followed Cassie to the reception desk. Norma was glaring at him as if he'd robbed her of something. He didn't know why. SHE was the one who invited him on the mission with them, for whatever reason. Maybe she was hoping to show him up with her field-combat skills and got jealous after learning he knew how to Lasso and she didn't. That seemed a very "Norma" type thing to do, but it was only a guess.

Cassie stopped at the reception desk. Agent 33 was behind it going through files. She didn't notice Raz when Cassie spoke up. "Where is Dr. Cao?"

"In reconstructive therapy," Thirty-three said. "Three tough cases at once."

"I'm afraid I have a fourth," Cassie replied. "How long will he be?"

"Hard to say."

"Do you have the body of a Mèng Yáng? She's a Medium."

"Mèng Yáng... I'll ask. Zheng!"

Zheng Wei stood from among the crowd. The two conversed in Chinese and he jogged off into the halls. His tiny daughter saw Raz and bounced over. "Razzzzzzz."

"Hi, Ling," Raz said. "How are you and your dad getting along?"

"Okay." She yawned. "Tired."

"I bet it's really hard to translate Chinese to English all the time."

"Yes." Ling sighed.

"Maybe you should take a rest? Have some time off?"

"We'll rest when we're done," Thirty-three said, her voice flat and humorless.

Raz tried to channel his best Lili Zanotto face. "And how long have you been working today? You were on the phone at three this morning, now you're here doing this at what? twelve hours later?"

"Who are you, my mother?" Thirty-three asked.

"Just saying, a little kid and a guy who just got his mind ripped out might need softer gloves."

"Listen, punk, when YOU'RE in charge of a team, you can direct them the way you want. Half my Chinese speakers are still in Buxing. I've only got a handful of people here at my disposal. I'm doing the best I can."

He grunted. "Let the kid nap."

Thirty-three rolled her eyes and leaned over the desk and spoke in Chinese. Ling brightened a little and waved. "Bye, Razzzzz!"

"Bye, Ling."

She dashed off. Agent 33 cast Raz a withering look and started hunting through clipboards.

Cassie peered at Raz, her brow pinched in concern. "You doing okay, young man?"

Telepathy rattled his head. His mind still felt ropey and the niggle left by Sam's redecorating was as persistent as a toothache. He was starting to understand why Sasha wanted to have an actual lesson in mind-wrangling before doing it. Putting random people in your head was unpredictable, roping the wrong person almost got him killed. He replied out loud. "I have a headache."

"No surprise. A stretch like that will take a while to feel normal, but I promise it will," Cassie said. "Think of it as part of the adventure. Now you know how far you can go."

Raz smirked up at her. "How far have you stretched before, Cassie? Have you ever Astrally Projected yourself halfway across the world like that Pyro did?"

She hummed in thought. "I once made it to Hong Kong."

Raz marveled. "Really?"

"The seven of us challenged each other to Astrally Project ourselves to specific targets. At first we tried to fly as far as we could, but we could only go so long before our minds got tired. Like yours is, I'm sure. Then we tried to project ourselves someplace we'd been before. We tried to go to our home towns and seeing mine was farthest away, I won the challenge."

"So you, like, teleported yourself? But just your mind?" Raz asked. "That's amazing."

"It's easier if you know where you're going," Cassie replied. "And if you use..."

"Psychodelics?" Raz filled in.

She smirked and shook her head. "Otto's technology."

"Oh. Right." Raz pondered. "So does that mean the Pyro has been to Fanrong before?"

"Could be."

"I mean, it can't be a coincidence. He and his friends obviously knew there was a Medium here. They also knew a Mind Bomb was going to go off."

"I'm sure Boolie will get to the bottom of it," Cassie shrugged. "I don't like to involve myself too much in international politics. I prefer to walk the landscapes of self-reflection and improvement. Curate the experience you value. The world is full of dark and wicked things and deep down, so are we. Should I spend my energy trying to control the chaos of the world, or the chaos in myself? If Lucy is any example, prioritizing external evil over internal evil leads to the failure of both attempts."

Mentioning Maligula put Raz on a wholly different train of thought. Nona was just trying to help her people back then... HIS people. Grulovia was heading back to war and she wanted to help. Out of context, that path was the same one the Psychonauts were walking at that very moment. Wasn't fighting against evil people a good thing? Except Lucy lost her humanity in the process. Raz raised his eyes to Cassie. "You don't think we should be here, do you?"

"It doesn't matter what I think."

"It does to me."

"Then I hate to disappoint you." Cassis shrugged. "I came out of retirement to help my friends, not save the world. If I wanted that responsibility, I never would have left at all."

Dr. Cao appeared and placed a stack of clipboards on the reception desk. "Can you ask the PMRCs to visit room five?"

Agent 33 sobered. "Sure, doctor. Only room five?"

"Yes, thankfully."

A knot tightened in Raz's throat. He glanced to the recovered patients around him, discarding reasons for why the person in room five would need military transport. Thankfully Cassie spoke before Raz was forced to settle on the obvious one.

“Zhi?” Cassie said.

Dr. Cao looked up. “Ah, Cassie! How many are you checking in?”

“Just one with me this time,” Cassie said. “A Mrs. Mèng Yáng. Medium.”

Dr. Cao sighed. “Use the color system, please?”

“Oh, ah… I’m not sure.” Cassie frowned.

Raz spoke instead. “Red."

Dr. Cao tugged a small grin. “You’re sure.”

“Definitely. Like bright bright red.”

“Okay. Let’s go find her.” Dr. Cao took a fresh clipboard out of a box and marched two of them through the lobby.

They traversed a hall to a conference center ballroom area where the bodies of mindless psychics were laying on blankets on the floor. The air buzzed with the tinny hum of psychic energy. Raz projected a little Clairvoyance and could see clouds of mental activity shrouding each empty head.

Zheng Wei was in the back corner. He saw them walk in and speed-walked over on long legs. "Mèng Yáng."

Dr. Cao, Zheng, and Cassie all conferred in Chinese and the former street-vendor walked them to an elderly woman in the corner. Dr. Cao checked the pages on the clipboard. “It's her alright.”

“Okay, then.” Cassie raised her eyebrows. “Razputin? Would you like to do the honors?”

He gulped. “Me?”

“If you're not too tired.”

“No, I’m just…” Raz squared his shoulders and pulled out his Psi-portal. “I’m ready.”

He set the tiny door on the old woman’s head and tapped the door to open it. The door drew Raz’s mind from his body, which was a lot nicer than forcing it out of his head with sheer will. He lowered his goggles and released himself to its pull.

Inside Mèng Yáng was dark, just like Zheng Wei’s mind had been, although her space was more tightly contained than his. The walls bowed inward, fluttering slightly as if stilled by a breeze. Raz ducked under a bit of low-hanging canvas and ventured forward on plush ground. The floor was covered in blankets, and the walls all the way along were made of some kind of black tenting material. He tested the seams, hunting for something solid in the drapery her could tie Cassie's lasso on to, but everything was soft or squishy and nothing stood straight when he moved it. Maybe Mrs. Mèng was more of a Medium than they thought, and this was a mental seance room ready for fortune telling.

He stumbled over a wrinkle in the floor and bumbled into a wide gallery with a low ceiling. The darkness of the inactive mind shrouded anything more than three feet in front of him. Moving inch by inch, he reached blindly with his hands for a crystal ball or something. Instead, found a desk in the middle of the room with an old-fashioned treadle sewing machine built into the top. Raz gave the machine a shove. Solid. He sent a thought up to Cassie. “Okay, I’m ready!”

The air near his head started rippling. The space bowed inward, straining the fabric of reality before splitting like a pair of pants as Cassie’s hand forced itself through.

“Ahh!” Raz jumped. “What happened to the Looking-Glass-window-thing?”

“Looking Glass? Who needs a Looking Glass?” Cassie dangled the lavender end of her Mental Lasso. “Take it.”

Raz planted his feet as best he could on the soft terrain and took hold of the tether. Cassie released her grip and the Lasso snapped taut with even more force than Oleander's had. Raz lurched forward, but caught himself against the desk and reeled back on the cord. He dragged his end over the top of the sewing machine and crawled with it through the bottom between the pedal and the wood. He climbed on top again, wrenching as hard as he could to make enough slack for a knot. He tied it like a tent stake and shouted. ”All good!”

”Okay, come on out.”

A part of him wanted to stay inside and watch. Zheng Wei’s reconnection was an explosion of life, filled with flowers and color and smells. He'd love to see what Mèng Yáng's mental world looked like for real, but it was kind of a violation of her privacy as well. Zheng Wei was so confused and bothered after waking up, perhaps popping out was easier for the patient. He opened his tin of smelling salts and returned to the real world.

Cassie was crouched over Mrs. Mèng with two fingers on the sleeping woman’s forehead. Dr. Cao noted the time and administered his own tube of salts to the sleeping woman's nose. Mrs. Mèng’s eyes flew open. She raised her shaking hands and poked at her own face.

Zheng crouched down beside her, speaking gently. She blinked at him, her fear dissipating as he spoke in a conversational tone. Dr. Cao joined in, too, adding his clinical tone to the conversation. Raz wished he understood any of it. He envied Agent 33 and her affinity for languages. Was that something like being a Medium or a Precog or could he take a class in that? He’d have to ask when he got back home.

Cassie whispered down to him. "They're explaining what's happened."

"Is she okay?"

"Oh yes, she’ll be fine," Cassie said. “Thankfully part of being a Medium meant she was possessed for most of her sojourn. She’s lost a lot of time, but she also doesn’t remember being puppeted. And she was already aware of her affinity.”

“She was?” Raz asked. “Was she conducting seances?”

“Oh no, nothing like that.” Cassie laughed. “She heard voices from ‘beyond,’ but chalked it up to religious experiences. She considers herself a spiritual leader for her family.”

“Her head looked like a big tent.”

“She’s a seamstress,” Cassie said.

“Ah, yeah, that makes sense.”

Dr. Cao and Zheng Wei helped Mrs. Mèng up from her blanket. The old woman stooped forward like Nona did, evidence of a hardworking life. Dr. Cao let Zheng take her solo and she was ushered away to recovery. Cassie smiled. "What a bright young man."

"He didn't know he was a Psychic until yesterday." Raz said.

"He's since decided to sign up," Dr. Cao said. "Become a Psychonaut."

Raz cheered. "Really?"

"Yes, he told Thirty-three that he wanted to help people like that little melon-headed kid helped him."

A runner rushed up with a note for Dr. Cao. He read it quick and cleared his throat. “Otto says the coast is clear on the Wild Mind front for now, Cassie. He suggests you go off-duty, but Bob is requesting help on his side of things. It’s up to you.”

Raz gulped, aware he was the reason Bob was understaffed. “So we’re going over to the hospital?”

Dr. Cao sucked his teeth. “In this case, that's not necessary.”

The doctor brought Raz and Cassie out of the conference room and to a small security office at the end of a line of doors. Inside was a wall filled with CCTV monitors similar to the ones Gisu was using upstairs to spy on people. Instead of camera views of the building, every screen was filled with undulating sine waves and EKG lines. A low beeping echoed off the glass, emitted by a half dozen little machines strung with electrical wires, draping back and forth. In the middle lay Milla Vodello as if lying in state. She was tucked into an actual medical gurney with her hands folded on her waist and an IV running from a pole to her arm. Her head was crowned in censors and cords eerily similar to the halo of tethers she'd worn in her mind storm.

Raz bit his lip. “And we’re SURE she’s okay?”

“She’s fine,” Dr. Cao said.

“You’re SURE sure?” Raz watched her heartbeat map itself on a staticky little screen. “Like for REAL sure, sure?”

Dr. Cao gestured to the machinery. “We’re monitoring every aspect of her health right now. We're even taking over some of her basic physiological functions to ease the mental burden so she can focus on the work."

That sounded terrible. Raz swallowed. "Is she in a coma?"

"We sedated her to keep her under," Dr. Cao answered as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "One of those 'basic functions' I mentioned. We don’t need a repeat of earlier.”

Raz’s throat tightened. Milla preferred to be levitating pretty much at all times - it helped her think. Her meditation room back at the Motherlobe was even built around the concept and seeing her tied down felt like Dr. Cao was robbing her of something she needed to thrive. Although, she had to have consented to this arrangement... heaven help anyone crossing her if she hadn't. Raz took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

Dr. Cao checked the readouts on one of Milla's machines. “Last note from Bob said we’ve got her passenger list down to two-thousand. Considering where we started, that’s incredible progress, but Truman’s requested she report back to the Motherlobe as soon as possible, so your extra help will be appreciated. Honestly, once these minds are restored, we’ll have the bulk of our current bodies accounted for. We've got weeks worth of work left, but the mind-restore step won't last much longer.”

“How many were lost do you think?” Cassie asked.

Dr. Cao shrugged. “Hard to say until the final tally comes in. We’re still sweeping houses. At this point the morgues are filling as fast as the beds.”

Raz’s tenuous calm fell like a sheet of glass. His eyes bugged, but he managed to stay as professional as he could. Losses were logical in an operation this size. In True Psychic Tales, only guilty people met a bad end. None of the people in Fanrong were anonymous background shapes like the extras in the comics. Innocent people had died. The person in room five had died. Raz understood why Milla went overboard to save who she could.

Dr. Cao pulled a striped Psi-Portal out of his coat pocket and fit it to the center of Milla’s head. "Bob's already in there, so you might as well hop in."

“Okay. Wake me if Agent Boole needs my help.” Cassie nodded to Raz. “After you, young man.”

Raz took another deep breath and lowered his goggles. As wild as his emotional roller coaster still was, entering Milla's Dance Party was a relief and helping Milla be freed even more so. Cassie pressed her fingers to her temples and focused her mind.

Dr. Cao tapped the door of the psi-portal and the two psychics dove in.

Chapter Text

Inside Milla’s mind, the party was in full-swing. The untethered Fanrong citizens were in high spirits, lounging about the couches and bean bags as if they weren’t all in mortal danger. Milla must have put the mood-adjusters she mentioned in the punch, because some of the partiers were acting very drunk for people with no connection to their own chemicals. As promised, Agent Zanotto had taken charge of the back wall of the lobby where he’d manifested a wide desk against the wall. Helmut had styled it as a coat check and five sweater-clad Psychonauts served as tag attendants behind the counter with color coded ropes to help form lines. There were even coats on the racks behind them, although not the kind of coats that normal people would probably wear. Most of them were paisley and half had fur collars and cuffs. Guests waited in lines between the velvet ropes to claim their “outerwear” from the agents. The Blue and Green lines were full, but the red and Yellow lines were empty. The team must have taken care of the worst patients first.

Helmut was leaning heavily on the front of the desk with a megaphone when Raz and Cassie projected in from HQ.

“Will a Li Na please report to coat check to gather your belongings?” Helmut called toward the party room. “ A Li Na to coat check, please!”

Raz traipsed over. “You know they don’t speak English, right?”

“Some do.” Bob was buried behind the same mound of paperwork at the coat check as he was in real life. “All of them know their name though.”

“Li Na!” Helmut called again. “Li Na to coat check!”

“Allow me,” Cassie said. She took the megaphone out of Helmut’s hand, adjusted the volume, and shouted in Chinese.

A group of ten women of various ages drifted from the party. Helmut held an empty hand out to Bob who slapped a polaroid photo of a sleeping woman in her twenties against his palm.

Helmut checked the image, then held the picture to the crowd. “Which one of you is this Li Na?”

One of the Li Nas pointed at the photo in alarm.

“We have a winner!” Cassie said. She lowered her megaphone and beckoned the young woman as she approached the counter.

Bob pulled a colored ticket from her assigned clipboard and handed it to the girl. “Cassie, can you tell her to get in the colored line?”

“Of course,” Cassie said.

“Actually, how long can you stay?” Bob asked. “Can you take over the megaphone?”

“Babe!” Helmut cried. “You’re giving away my job!”

“Sorry, hun. You don’t speak Chinese.” Bob said. “Come back here and take my job. I’m needed on the outside.”

“Oh! A promotion!” Helmut rounded the counter and kissed his husband on the top of his bald head. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

“You know me a lot better than that,” Bob said, but tugged Helmut down to kiss him on the lips instead. “See you later.”

Helmut blushed across his nose. “Good luck out there!”

Bob smelling-salted away and Helmut plopped into his chair behind the desk. Raz summoned a levball and rolled up like a customer. “Anything I can do?”

“Hmm.” Helmut sifted through the pile of papers, already muddying Bob’s careful organization. “You can’t make Lassos, can you?”

“Yeah, I can!” Raz said.

Helmut brightened. “Do you have a Looking Glass?”

“Right here!” Raz summoned the gizmo out of his bag with a little spin.

“Well lookit you,” Helmut said. “Let me ping Morris and see if he’s ready to do some head-hopping. I’d give you Adam - he’s more efficient - but he’s still busy with your sibs.”

“How are they doing, by the way?” Raz asked. “I didn’t mean to abandon them earlier but one thing led to another…”

“Oh they’re doing great!” Helmut smiled. “Especially together, they’re getting the organization done super fast. With thousands of new minds to stitch up, having the bodies all documented and sorted is taking a lot of stress off Bobby and the team. We wouldn’t have this swanky ‘Milla HQ’ setup without them assisting with the hospital stuff outside.”

“That’s great. I’m really glad they’re a help and not a bother. You never know with them.”

“Hey now, no need to be sassy,” Helmut pressed a finger to the brim of his viking-style hat. “Morris has, like, fifteen minutes until he’s free. Why don’t you run up to the party. Tell Milla Bob’s flesh-side now.”

Raz’s heart leaped. “Milla’s here?”

“I mean this IS her mind.”

“I know, but Dr. Cao said she was sedated. I thought she was sleeping.”

“She is!” Helmut said. “Run on up and see.”

Raz grinned and steered his levball up the ramp to the bouncer sculpture. Inside, the party was even snazzier. Untethered minds laughed and smiled, eating the mental snacks and drinking the mental punch. A DJ manned five turntables at the head of the room. The mental construct had no face, but was wearing rhinestone framed glasses and a huge zebra-striped hat. He pumped his fist in the air as he added another disco tune to the mix. The dancers below echoed his “whoop” of enthusiasm and shimmied to the new rhythms as the light show overhead shifted around them. In the middle of the dancefloor was Milla Vodello, back in her favorite long-sleeve mini dress and leggings, and smiling as broadly as any guest. A group of children clustered around her, bouncing and clapping. Milla was dancing with a little boy that only came up to her knee. She twisted him back and forth by the hands and he was howling with laughter.

Raz popped his ball and ran up on his feet. “Hi Milla!”

“Razputin, darling! How are you?” She cheered above the music. “I hope you slept well.”

“Well enough,” Raz said. “I see you’re feeling better.”

“Music is medicine, young man.” Milla winked.

She was right. All the people around her were victims, but no one would know it. Especially the children. He thought of Compton’s words in the van about how being untethered was trauma to the psyche. Nothing could take back what they’d experienced, but with Milla’s help, perhaps the good memories would even the odds.

“Helmut wanted me to tell you that Bob’s gone back outside,” Raz said.

“Oh Helmut! Isn’t he brilliant? His design fit right in with my party atmosphere. The transition is seamless and these people don’t even have coats!”

“I’m going to help reconnect people, but I have a few minutes. Is there anything I can do for you until they need me?”

She beamed at him. “Just have a good time, darling! Nothing would make me happier.”

One of the kids grabbed his hand and he joined their dance circle. It was just like Levitation class back at Whispering Rock, when he and his fellow Psi-cadets were bumping Levitation Balls like bumper cars. He wondered if any of the children around him for Psychic. Maybe they’d make it to summer camp some day. The DJ flipped the next LP and he joined the crowd in the following cheer. Dancing always felt good, but to move in concert with the thrumming bass notes and the bouncing melody made him feel like part of the concert. Dazzled by the flashing floodlights and reflections off the discoball, he almost forgot he was on duty until Cassie’s voice boomed in through the megaphone.

“Agent Aquato! To coat check, please!”

“I gotta go!” Raz waved. “By Milla!”

“Miss you already, darling! Come back soon!”

Raz sashayed his way off the dance floor and back to the lobby, filled to the brim with good vibes.

“There’s a music lover!” Helmut said. “Look at him, he’s glowing.”

Raz smiled so hard his cheeks hurt. “Is Morris ready?”

“Yep, you’re assisting Lupe on the Greens.” Helmut handed him a badge and a clipboard. “Go take your spot. ”

Raz slipped behind the counter, still bouncing along with the distant music. “Yes, sir, Mr. Psi-King!”

Lupe was a twenty-something year old Dominican woman with waxed-down black curls and a feather in her hat. Raz had met her briefly at the Motherlobe before. She was one of the few agents in the Noodle Bowl happy to say “hi.”

“Aquato!” Lupe said in a bubbly squeak. “It’s fun to see you in the field. Great to have assistance!”

“Agent Alcaro,” Raz said. “So how do we do this?”

“Oh it’s easy,” Lupe flipped the end of her feather. “I’ll take the next one. Just do what I do.”

She whistled to the queuers in line and extended one hand. “Ticket?”

The Chinese woman in front of her was baffled, but handed over her green slip. Lupe referenced the serial number on the back and reached for her Looking Glass. It was similar to Raz’s, although much sleeker and more well put-together with Otto-Matic branding on the handle. She dialed through images on file until another woman appeared on the screen.

“Carla!” Lupe called.

The woman on the other side was dressed in full Psychonaut formal uniform including a military-looking hat Raz had never seen anyone wear. She addressed Lupe in exasperation. “Number?”

“One-Nine-Nine-Six.”

“Okay I’ll call back.”

Carla vanished from the lens. Lupe set the gizmo on the counter and returned to the customer in front of her. “Stand up straight, please?”

The woman still didn’t understand what was being requested, but standing straight didn’t seem to matter. Lupe manifested a pansy pink Mental Lasso and flicked it over the woman’s head in one quick motion. The woman in front of her squawked in protest as the Lasso pinned her elbows to her sides. The Looking Glass beeped and Lupe ignored her captive’s string of aggressive Chinese to answer the call. “Carla!”

“I’m in,” Carla said. “Hand her through.”

“You got it!” Lupe thrust her end of the Lasso through the glass to Carla. The pink string went tight. The woman in the loop drew back, fighting the pull for a minute before she was sucked bodily through the tiny hole. The man behind her in line gaped in horror as Lupe called an enthusiastic. “Next!”

He inched forward with his ticket ready.

“Thank you!” Lupe took the green slip and handed it to Raz. “You’re up, kid!”

Raz mounted a leviball and bellied up to the counter. He pulled out his Looking Glass and dialed in Morris’s face. The agent, himself, didn’t appear on the screen but his mind did – a quintessential teen bedroom-looking space plastered wall to wall with band posters. Morris’s voice echoed from within. “Hey, Pooter!”

“Hey, Morris. You ready for a number?”

“I’m ready, hermano.”

Raz read the number off the back of the ticket. Morris read it back to confirm and hung up the call. Raz looked up at his customer who was still shaken from watching the last Lasso incident. Raz doubted this process needed to be as dramatic as Lupe was. He held his arm straight as a demonstration to his customer. “Hand up!”

The man in front of him frowned and extended his arm. Raz summoned an orange Lasso and tightened it around the extended wrist.

Morris called back. This time he DID appear on the screen, although not much else did. The mind around him was dark with vague shapes and forms like the other victims’ had been. “Kay, ready!”

“Here he comes!” Raz slipped his hand into the Glass with a tingling sensation. It was icy cold on the other side. His Lasso crackled both in his hand and in the back of his head. Sasha said there was no distance in the Collective Unconscious, but somehow it felt like he was reaching across the world to make the transfer, especially when Morris took hold of the end. The pull Raz had fought as the tie-down man and the pull he’d witnessed on the previous customer were one and the same, and it turned out all of it was coming from him. Raz cringed as his brain fought to maintain the tether. It was way harder without holding it. The Lasso wanted so badly to knot itself back up into his mind, but he had to keep the connection strong until the man was back home.

It took less than a minute, but felt much much longer. The man at the counter let out a “Waa!” and was reeled through the lens like fish on a line. Raz exhaled and let go.

“Good job, kid! You’re a natural!” Lupe cheered.

“Thanks.” Raz rubbed the base of his skull. “That was tougher than it looked.”

“That’s why I’m glad you’re here to help,” Lupe assured. “I’ll take the next one and we’ll do turns you-then-me until we’re done. The rests will make this go way faster.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Then let’s do it!” She shouted to the line. “Next!”

***

Raz worked on the Green line for a full work shift. Lupe was let off on break before Raz was, and was replaced by another agent who was much less friendly. After trying to make friends and failing, Raz gave the man space and caught up with Morris through the Looking Glass instead.

“While you were being lazy upstairs, I was back at the hospital assisting Bob and Helmut,” Morris said. “I actually helped them set up the coat check, but I don’t know how to make Lassos so I was forced to move to the real-life side when we were done.”

“They didn’t teach you?”

“Nah, something about being a minor and breaking like, a law or something? I tried to teach myself like you did. I even tried imagining a snake with a cowboy hat but it didn’t work. I don’t know why, either. Usually I’m good at manifesting stuff. I guess the whole Astral Projection part threw me off.”

“It’s not as easy as it looks,” Raz agreed. “I’m lucky I caught on so quick.”

“Luck nothin’ you’re some kind of savant,” Morris scoffed. “You’ve been like this since you elbowed your way into the intern program. We learned tons of stuff from Hollis, sure, but we didn’t catch on immediately like you did and we’re older than you.”

Raz went sheepish. “I mean… I’m not like special or anything.”

“No, you’re related to one of the most powerful Psychics in this history of Psychics.” Morris said.

Raz’s heart fluttered. Morris was right. Maligula wasn’t his grandmother, but she was his great aunt. He wondered if his REAL grandmother was Psychic as well. The sisters were identical twins, so they had the same genetics. She’d have to be at least somewhat Psychic to pass the powers on to his dad, and Augustus Aquato was as much a natural talent as Raz was. Maybe his Grandpa Lazerous was Psychic too! If only they’d survived the fall of Grulovia, he could have been raised as a troupe of Psychics as well as circus performers.

“Your turn, kid,” the Agent in front of him said.

Raz bounced up to meet a young man with a nervous look on his face. He’d asked Cassie what the Chinese word was for ‘ticket’ was before she was called back to Compton’s team. He tried to get the accent right. “Plao？”

The man offered his green slip. Raz communicated the number to Morris who hung up to go look.

“This is your last one, kid,” Helmut said from behind him. Raz spun on the ball to see his team leader peeking through the coats. “It’s midnight out there. you’re off until morning.”

“Midnight? Really?” Raz cried. “Time went so quick.”

“It’s all jumbled in the mental world, yeah,” Helmut said. “More reason to clock-out. Don’t want to lose track and be here for a million years.”

He was speaking from experience, so Raz didn’t argue. He tied a Mental Lasso to the untethered mind in front of him and handed it through the lens when it turned back on. “Hey, Morris, I’m off duty after this.”

The other agent grabbed the end of the string. “I should have been off an hour ago.”

“Why are you still here, then?”

“We were making progress,” Morris said. “I‘ll meet you up there.”

The twang of the Lasso was less annoying after a whole day of repetition. Raz watched the young man flash through the lens and tucked the Looking Glass back in his bag. He waved at the grumpy agent. He was probably one of the Psychonauts that lingered around the Motherlobe, but Raz couldn’t recall the man’s name, which was awkward. “I’m off. Um… good luck?”

“Hmph,” the man replied.

Raz pulled out his smelling salts, but paused. He should probably say goodbye to Milla. He hadn’t seen her since he clocked in, and it wasn’t like she could take a break. He elbowed through the coats and rolled around the outside of the lobby to get back to the dance floor. It was quite a bit emptier. A slow song was playing and pairs of minds swayed together looking tired and maybe a bit stoned.

Milla’s child companions had all been safely restored to their bodies, leaving her by herself near the speakers with a glass of punch in her hand. Raz jogged over to her with an encouraging smile. “You doing okay?”

“Of course, sweetie,” Milla said, a bit melancholy. “Are you? You’ve been working very hard.”

“I’m alright. It’s tiring but it’s really important.”

“That, it is.”

“You seem sad,” Raz ventured. “Why not go down and hang with Helmut and the coat check team? They’d be nice company.”

“Perhaps I will, dear, thank you,” Milla said, although made no outward sign of following through. Raz wondered what kind of mental drain hosting a never-ending party was. The music and lightshow were things she had running all the time, but Raz had seen a mind “turned-off” and it didn’t look like this. Her body, he assumed, was still being monitored by a bunch of machines on the outside. She was sedated but was she really resting? Was it restoring her at all?

An idea struck. Raz extended a hand. “Want to dance?”

Milla’s face lit in a flash of charm and gratitude. “What a gentleman! How could I refuse?”

She placed her hand in his and allowed him to guide her to a spot on the floor directly under the disco ball. The DJ transitioned to another slow song. Raz summoned a leviball to even-out their heights, but even with levitation he was still only up to her neck. He checked the dancers around him to see what they did with their hands. In each couple, the two clasped one hand together and the other was either on a hip or a shoulder. There was no way Raz was going to reach Milla’s hip from where he was. He awkwardly tried to maybe put it on her ribs but she moved it to her upper arm and proceeded to “lead from behind.”

“I don’t believe we’ve danced like this before, my mysterious stranger,” Milla said in a coy, teasing way. “I have waited in the corner all night for you, darling. A girl will start to wonder.”

“I… uh…” Raz’s tongue went dry. “I was held up at the office. You know.”

“Oh, I do.” Her gaze dipped to the side, staring at nothing. “These missions take so much time. There’s so much pain in a place like this. It breaks your heart.”

“Yeah.” He didn’t know what to say, but sensed it wasn’t necessary.

After a beat, she continued. “I wish we could live in a world where such things never happened. I know, intellectually, that wicked people will always exist. Without wicked people there could never be good people. Balance, you know? Sasha would say it’s the law of statistics. I think of it more of scale. For every wicked person out there in the wider world, there is a good person to counter them. If we are lucky, those people end up being one and the same. Like your Nona for instance. A good person triumphed over her wicked self and tipped us all a little further to the side of good.”

“What about Horatio?” Raz asked. “Do you think he’s a good person inside?”

Her face tightened. “It’s tempting to say ‘no’ isn’t it? How could someone capable of such widespread pain and horror be in any way good? But if we say that, then we lose any possibility that it may yet be true. I have to remind myself of that often on missions. Giving people a second chance is a conscious choice on our part. It’s a delicate balance between granting someone grace to mend their ways and naively trusting in dreams. Humans are complicated creatures. We are minds and bodies and souls all tangled together in small, fragile shells..”

“'Souls' like the tether between the brain and the mind?” Raz asked. “Tension? Like the monks say?”

Milla regarded him with an odd, nostalgic look. “'Souls' like what makes you ‘you’ and me ‘me.’ The intangible part of the mind that manipulates the chemicals of the body without either’s direction. We are flesh and we are thought, but there’s always just that little bit more to humans that make us unique. Some might call it intuition, some call it experience, but all recognize its existence. It’s why even at birth, identical twins differ in want and need. We are more than nature, darling. We are miracles, and all of us together make the world a wonderful place to be.”

Raz beamed. “I’m glad you’re in the world, Milla.”

“I’m glad you’re in the world, too,” she said with a little laugh. “I’m very proud of you, darling. You’ve been brave these last two days, and very helpful. Sasha could not stop praising your accomplishments.”

“Really? I kinda thought I was in the way.””

“Of course not! We wouldn’t have invited you if we thought that,” Milla said. “You must understand. There’s a difference between not wanting you with us and not wanting you hurt. I think you’ve seen today the type of people we are dealing with. If anything happened to you, I would never forgive myself.”

Raz bowed his head. “Gisu called me a goody-two-shoes and said I was obsessed with following rules, but Sasha got mad at me for leaving the Pelican and not following orders. Then later, when we broke the rules to come help you, you said that was a good thing… but Sasha’s still getting in trouble with Truman for doing it. How am I supposed to know what choices are risks and which are mistakes?”

“You don’t, darling. That’s what living is all about,” Milla said. “Perhaps it was wrong of you and Sasha to come help me. Perhaps it was wrong of you not to. The important part was that you looked at the situation and you made the best decision you could with the information you had before you. Yes, Truman was angry you disobeyed him, but Sasha made that choice knowing such a thing was likely to happen. Just as, I suspect, you did in Buxing when you and Morceau left the plane to help that poor Wild Mind. You looked at the situation and made the best decision you could. It was Sasha’s job to scold you, but just between you and me, he’s proud of you for that, too.”

“He is?”

“You always impress us, darling. Frankly, it’s sometimes hard to know what to do with you.” She leaned in, conspiratorially. “You make Truman nervous.”

"I do?" Raz gulped.

“He wants to make sure you have good direction. And that you aren’t a bad influence on Lili. I’m sure he has nothing to worry about.”

“No! I mean, I hope not.”

“And that right there is proof of what we’re saying,” she said. “In hindsight, helping me was a good thing. And helping Zheng Wei was a good thing. And bringing you along on this mission was a good thing. But that doesn’t mean all risky decisions are good things. Information changes. Situations are unique and complicated. The future is hard for most of us to read. We can only do our best…”

“With the information we have,” Raz finished.

She nodded. “Now you’ve got it.”

The DJ turned over another record. Raz gripped her arm a little tighter. “Are all Psychonaut missions going to be like this?”

“I hope not, sweetie, this one is an ordeal.”

“Because I’m not sure I’m up to it,” Raz said. “I’ve never seen a dead body before. A real one, i mean. It… feels funny.”

“You never really get used to these things, I’m afraid, but really you shouldn’t want to,” Milla said. “We should hold on to our humanity. Our sense of right and wrong.”

“It bothers you, too?”

“Of course, but Its also encouraging to see the Psychonauts rise to such an occasion. We’ve saved thousands of lives today. Ten thousand yesterday, and thousands more tomorrow. People who would have died can now return to their loved ones and their lives, all because we were a team. I think that’s very special don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Raz grinned.

“Feel better?”

“I guess.” Raz’s grin went lopsided. He noticed they’d stopped dancing. “Maybe I just need a bit more music medicine.”

“That sounds nice,” Milla smiled. She drew Raz back into rhythm and joined the surrounding couples in their gentle sway.

Chapter Text

Returning to his body reminded Raz that bodies needed stuff like food. Thankfully others knew it, too, because he found a sandwich with his name on it and a water bottle on the desk beside Milla’s bed. The note taped to the plastic wrap was from Dr. Cao and read simply. “Go to bed.”

It seemed like he’d just been in bed, but after hours of playing tug-of-war with his mind, he was ready to go back. Milla still lay on her gurney, although someone had come in and moved her onto her side. The screen with her EEG read an even line of theta waves. Barely asleep. Dreaming. She’d need a nap when she was done, too. Raz left her half of his sandwich and ate the other half on the elevator ride up to the tenth floor. Most of the other agents were sleeping as well, obeying the circadian rhythm regardless of jet lag. The room assigned to the Junior Agents was full. Lizzie and Norma were bundled in their blankets alongside Gisu. Dion and Frazie were on the other side of the room snoring in the corner. Adam was still missing. Perhaps he napped earlier. Sam was also missing, but that wasn’t a surprise. Morris was already tucked in his spot. Raz’s dance with Milla must have taken too long, so he didn’t wait up. Raz left the door cracked open and stole away to the bathroom to brush his teeth real quick before climbing fully-clothed into bed.

A creaky old voice spoke to him from within. “Hello there, son.”

Raz’s mind blurred. He was no longer on the conference room floor, instead he was on the floor of a misty cavern surrounded by looming figures. The space came into focus and the figures became square. And plaid. One of the panels peeled off and fluttered over him like a blanket.

“Hooie! It’s a mess in here!” Ford Cruller wheezed. “What you been up to? Interior decorating?”

“Ford?” Raz rolled out from the tangle of wallpaper. “You’re in my mind?”

“I thought I’d pop in and see how you were getting on.” Ford tugged at another panel of wallpaper. The glue loosened with a sticky ripping noise and sank down the wall. “What happened here?“

“Sam Boole happened. She thought it was drab.”

“I mean she’s not wrong.” Ford pulled the wilted sheet free of the wall. “We better get this cleaned up before it mummifies you from the inside.”

Raz took a long look at the walls of his mind. The handful of wallpaper panels that Sam had installed had multiplied by the dozens. Full sheets of polka-dots and stripes criss-crossed his mind like a patchwork quilt. It made the space feel tight and claustrophobic. The ceiling was lower. A low ache pulsed through his head. “How’d it get so much worse?”

“I bet it’s been nagging your mind for a while?”

“Twelve hours-ish?”

“Yeah, we gotta train you in mindscape maintenance one of these days,” Ford said. “Constructs aren’t supposed to sit in a human brain forever. They aren’t permanent. They wear out.”

“The wallpaper is a construct?” Raz asked. “Like Sasha’s office construct?”

“It was created by another Psychic and applied directly to your mindscape, so yes, it’s a construct,” Ford said. “Normally, your censors would stamp out anything foreign, but this stuff is fused with your psyche. Your mind is taking ownership of it, and in the process and it’s going a little batty. Drive you crazy in a couple weeks.”

Raz cringed. “What? Really?”

“The technical term I guess is Dissociation but yeah, it’ll affect your thinking,”

“Is that what happened with Dr. Loboto?” Raz asked. “Sasha’s construct wore out so Loboto’s mind took it over?”

“Sasha was actively inside that construct so I doubt that’s what happened. Usually the mind inside is the wheel that holds the whole thing together. He’d have to have laid the office construct on top of a different, older construct to make cracks like you all reported. You said it was Deluginist, right?”

“I mean, we thought so… but then it turned out Malik wasn’t actually Psychic,” Raz shrugged. “I bet the Maligula vision was the old construct crumbling under the new one. Loboto was so scared when Maligula appeared, and he didn’t even know who she was. She probably had a mood-affector involved. Like Milla’s punch. She helped everyone feel happier, and whoever put the Maligula vision in Loboto made him feel afraid.”

“Sounds like a good theory, although I can’t see why that would make a difference right now unless you think Deluginists are behind this whole Hornblower thing.”

“I don’t know what I think anymore.” Raz held his pounding head. “Thinking gives me a headache.”

As he puzzled, the wallpaper panels around the cavern started to shiver. A barber-pole striped rectangle crept from beneath its neighbors, pulling itself with gluey tendrils like the foot of a clam. Raz gagged a little. “Ugh.”

“And that’s why censors are so important.” Ford tugged another sheet of paper free. “See? Here they come now.”

The door of Raz’s caravan burst open and a team of six goggle-wearing business men descended the stairs. The mental policemen circled a fallen piece of wallpaper and pounded it to death with their giant “cancel” stamps. The paper crinkled and withered until it was dust on the ground. The censors gave it an approving “no” and attacked the next sheet.

Raz put his hands on his hips. “At least I’m not crazy.”

“No but you’re pretty banged up,” Ford said. “Let’s give the little fella’s a hand. I’ll see what I can do to help.”

Ford conjured a couple ladders and the two started pulling down wallpaper. With each panel they removed, a little of Raz’s headache went with it. Before too long, the last bit of foreign wall dressing was gone. Raz and Ford sat on the ladders and watched the the censors turn them to dust.

Raz surveyed the tidy – and perhaps Sam was right….a bit boring – surface of his mind. “Hey, Ford? Can you teach me how to redecorate in here?”

“You want to borrow the Astralathe?”

“I mean, I don’t want to do something drastic, I just want to, like, put a couch in or something.”

“Ah, the old-fashioned way. Sure I can teach you. Later though, when you’re back in the Quarry. You’ve got enough on your mind, so to speak.”

The last of the paper was destroyed and the censors turned on the ladders. Ford rose. "Now, now, that's enough of all that. " He Psi-blasted the little guys to pieces and parts and vanished both ladders back to his own imagination. Raz dropped out of the air and landed in a crouch. Ford floated down beside him with a satisfied sighed. “Alrighty, then. Let’s take a final once-over and make sure it’s all gone.”

Raz walked the perimeter of his mind, thinking about all the stuff he’d like to populate his landing-zone with. Did he want a big moveable cube like Sasha’s? A sitting area like Milla’s? An obstacle course like the coach? If his landing-zone was a visiting area, maybe he wanted a tent in the woods, or a swanky hotel, or palace… Whatever he put in, he wanted some place to sit down. People should feel welcome in his mind, not cold and lonely. He wondered what this natural manifestation said about him on the inside.

He rounded the caravan and found Ford examining the floor behind one of the wheels. Oatmeal watched over his shoulder, trumpeting in curiosity but too glued-down to do much other than look.

Raz dispersed the mist on his way over. “Did you find something wrong?”

“Looks like that little rubber-banding adventure you had with the Lasso has left some cracks.” Ford waved away the fog, revealing a hairline fracture spidering out from beneath the weight of the wagon wheel.

Raz grimaced. The clouds rushed in to cover the broken bits as if hiding his mind were hiding its shame. “Can you fix it?”

“Only time is going to fix that,” Ford said. “You gotta be more careful with your brain, son. Stop harpooning fish too strong for you to real back in.”

“Does that mean you were watching the fight?”

“Not in real time, but I got the gist of what happened from Compton’s report,” Ford said. “I’m keeping an eye on all these goings-on back in Green Needle Gulch. It said he was projecting from somewhere far off. Probably a Psitanium deposit.”

“Psitanium! Of course!” Raz cried. “We thought it was from a lot of Psychics working together.”

“I mean, that too. There had to be at least five of them to keep that Medium possessed for twelve hours straight. Even with Psitanium enhancement, the human mind wears out after a while.”

“Do you think it’s the Mentalists?”

“It very well could be,” Ford siad. “You said the man you roped-and-rode was young and the Mentaltsts usually target the young and disenfranchised. Psychic runaways. They even approached Sasha when he was a teen.”

“They did?” Raz leaned in. “Did he join?”

“We got to him first, thankfully,” Ford said. “They were recruiting pretty hard though. Even as a teenager, Sasha Nein was a remarkable Psychic. Taught himself a lot. Got in a lot of trouble.”

It wasn’t hard to imagine Sasha testing his limits. Raz could only guess what his mentor would be like if he’d joined with the terrorists instead of the Psychonauts. Would he be a supervillain right now? The thought made Raz a little sick. “Would any of the Mentalists he knew back then be involved in this Hornblower thing?”

“Oh no, I doubt it,” Ford said. “Turnover for Mentalists is pretty high. They’re a violent group. Get themselves killed a lot. Still, it’s not out of the question to run into a thirty or forty year-old punk every now and then. I suppose some could still be around, assuming they haven’t moved on to better things.”

“Would they still want to recruit him… like, the one who got away?”

“To their peril!” Ford wheezed a laugh. “After all this time? With all his training? Sasha would devastate anyone the Mentalists threw at him. They’d be in jail before you could say ‘guten tag’.”

Raz bit his lip. “Even Horatio?”

Ford’s good humor faded. He thumbed his mustache with a frown. “I suppose we’ll wait and see.”

A couple new censors hopped out of Raz’s caravan. Ford rose, cracking his back. “I guess that’s my cue. Better let you get back to REM sleep. Your dreams will be a lot better without all that muck clinging on.”

“I did have a nightmare this afternoon. Was the wallpaper why?”

“Maybe, or it could just be the trauma.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Welp, goodnight, Razputin.” Ford patted him on the head. “I’ll look into the Mentalist thing on my own. Try and see if there’s any connection to folks we’ve run into before. This Hornblower character’s got a sordid history in the Psychic underworld, but nothing’s buried so deep it can’t be found with a good hard look.”

“Sounds good, Ford. Thanks for the help,” Raz said. “Say ‘hi’ to Nona for me.”

“I most certainly will.” He gave a nostalgic grin and vanished in a puff. Without him to focus on, the world around Raz’s started to blur. His head muddled and he dropped back into the sine-wave of sleep. He awoke hours later, stirred by the movement of his fellow Junior Agents and sunlight flashing through the vertical blinds.

Excusing the fact that their dormitory was an office building, the morning routine wasn’t too bad. A breakfast buffet made mostly of bagels and doughnuts was waiting upstairs on a long line of tables. The last table had assignments folded into labeled envelopes. Raz found one with his name on it and carried it to the spot on the floor where his friends were all sitting.

Adam and Sam were there, although Adam looked exhausted. He must have been headed TO bed not getting up from it. “Hi, Raz.”

“Morning Pooter,” Lizzie said. “Where you goin’ today?”

Raz sat and opened his folder. “Hospital again. Third floor.”

“Me too,” Gisu groaned. “Waste of my talents if you ask me.”

“We’re on the second floor,” Lizzie said, indicating Norma.

“First,” Morris reported.

“I’m on the first, too,” Sam said. “Which vegetables are on the first?”

“The worst ones are on the first,” Adam answered. “Patients that need intense psychotherapy to recover.”

“Mistake sending Sam in there, then,” Lizzie laughed.

Norma elbowed her sister. “She probably speaks their language.”

“Shut up,” Sam pouted.

“Leave her alone, you guys,” Raz said, biting his bagel. “We’re supposed to be a team.”

“Speaking of, I wanted to ask you something.” Norma leaned in..

Raz paused chewing. This was never good.

She dropped her voice to a whisper. “We didn’t invite you on that mission yesterday just for fun. We had a proposition but we were too busy being babysat by Compton and Cassie to bring it up.”

Raz swallowed. “Well?”

“Well!” Norma adjusted her glasses. “Lizzie and I have been wondering – ”

“Mornin’ losers,” Dion interrupted. He and Frazie stood together with a pile of doughnuts and a glass of orange juice each. Dion’s brow leveled at Gisu. “Morning Gisu.”

“Morning Dion,” Gisu said, even more irritated than before.

Lizzie and Norma clammed up and scooted away, allowing the Aquatos to sit together with their backs to the wall. Frazie offered Raz one of her doughnuts. “Got your favorite.”

“Thanks!” He reached for it but Frazie redirected it into her own mouth before he could grab it.

“Whoops!” She said chewing.

Raz wrinkled his nose at her, but recognized a bit of normalcy where he could get it. They were literally on the other side of the world, yet they could have just as easily been around the campfire back home. He noticed the folders they carried. “You two get assignments?”

“Yeah, weird,” Frazie said. “It’s like we’re part of the group or something.”

“We better be getting paid,” Dion added.

“Of course you’re not, you moron. You’re CIVILIAN VOLUNTEERS,” Lizzie snorted. “The definition of the word is not-paid.”

“Aw man,” Dion sulked and stuffed a whole jelly doughnut in his mouth.

“So what were you guys up to last night?” Frazie asked Adam and Sam. “You never came to bed.”

“I was reconnecting minds the whole time,” Adam said with a yawn. “I know the action was all at Milla’s place, but we had heads full ten or twenty people coming in and out all night. Most of them almost past help, but we did what we could.”

“I was running the streets with a pack of wild dogs,” Sam answered.

The crowed blinked at her. “Really?”

“Yeah, they were pets,” Sam said. “Some belonged to people who are still in the hospital and jumped the fence when they got hungry. Some of them their owners’ bodies were still lying on the floor and needed help, so we ran a sweep of the city park area listening for barks. Found about fifty people. Not a bad haul.”

“That’s great, Sam,” Raz said. “You did that all night?”

“Until about midnight. The cats helped some too. And the rats of course. The rats are good at finding dead folks, so we tallied a bunch of those as well.”

Dion swallowed his doughnut with an audible gulp. “Like… DEAD dead folks?”

“You know a different kind of dead folks?” Sam asked.

“No, I mean… the people in the hospital were kind of dead folks.”

“They aren’t dead yet,” Adam corrected with another yawn. “Whoo, man. I’ll be ready for this mission to be over.”

They finished up breakfast and everyone headed for the hospital decided to walk there together. Adam followed them to the elevator, ready for bed instead of work. The rest packed into the open car, but Adam stopped Raz before he could get on. “One sec, okay Raz?”

“Oh, uh… sure.”

“Oops! Can’t hold the door, oh no….” Lizzie said in mock drama and she hit the “close door” button.

The door sealed and ‘ding’ed. Sam’s voice called up, diminishing as the car descended. “We’ll wait in the lobby!”

Raz sighed and shook his head. “Apparently they do this because they like me.”

“It IS because they like you,” Adam said. “They’d ignore you if they didn’t.”

“Figures my work family turns out to be exactly like my real family.”

“Speaking of,” Adam said. “Just wanted to let you know your sibs did a great job yesterday. For all the horsing around they do, they’re good at taking directions.”

“That comes from the circus,” Raz said. “When you’re building a human tower, you gotta work together everyone falls over.”

“Bob’s asked me to write up a report on them. It’s going to be a positive one, just letting you know. Nothing to worry about.” Adam pulled a white envelope out of his pocket and offered it to him. “He also told me to give you this. He wants you to read it before you report to him at the front desk.”

“He’s still at the desk?” Raz cried. “Does he get a break at any point?”

“He could probably take one if he wanted to. I caught him asleep at his desk last night when it got slow.”

“It got slow at some point?”

“I know, right?” Adam grinned. “We’re doing good work around here. I’m glad Truman let us come along on this mission. I think this is the kind of thing I want to do. Like as a Psychonaut. Make it my career.”

Raz perked up. “You mean mind recovery?”

“No, team management!” Adam said. “Organizational systems, schedules, sending people places, writing reports. So many clipboards! Just hundreds and hundreds of different clipboards.”

Raz grinned. “You can’t beat a good clipboard.”

Adam adjusted his hat. “Anyway, you better get down there before the crew leaves without you. Good luck on the third floor. It’s a doozy.”

“Why? What’s on the third floor?”

“Awake people.”

Raz grinned. “I’ll find a way to survive.”

He opened Bob’s note on the ride to the lobby. It mostly said what Adam told him – to report into the front desk when he arrived, but added a post-script about some secret “important issue.” He hoped he wasn’t in trouble, although he couldn’t imagine what he’d done wrong.

The lobby was a lot emptier than it had been the night before. It looked like Dr. Cao was making progress with his patients, just like Bob was with his. Raz was proud of both of them and everyone else involved. It really WAS good to know they were making a difference.

By some miracle, the Junior Agents actually WERE waiting for him by the door.

“What was that about?” Sam asked.

“Adam had a note for me.”

Dion beckoned him to continue. “And?”

Raz cut a shrewd look. “It said you guys were annoying jerks who cried like babies all day.”

Dion’s eyes widened. “I didn’t cry!”

“But you were annoying,” Frazie said. “Not that that’s different from any other day.”

“Shut up, sis,” Dion said. “Adam didn’t really say that, did he? He didn’t tell that to Mr. Bob?”

“No, I was teasing,” Raz said. “You guys did fine.”

To Raz’s surprise Dion looked sincerely relieved. Frazie held up her labeled envelope. “We’re assigned to the third floor today. Gisu says you’re up there with us.”

Raz cringed at the idea of working a shift with both Gisu and Dion in the same place. “That’s right.”

“We’re reporting to someone who’s just named Thirty-three,” Dion said.

Raz cringed even harder. “We are?”

“Yeah, what kind of name is that?” Dion asked.

“Convicted Criminal,’ Norma said and winked.

His eyebrows shot up. “What? Really?”

“She’s one of the field agents,” Raz answered, more matter-of-factly. “She’ll be a good fit. She speaks languages, like all of them, so she can talk to the patients without an interpreter.”

“That’s something, I guess,” Frazie shrugged. “Think she’d tell us her real name if we asked her?”

“I’m going to introduce myself as Civilian Volunteer Fourteen and see what she does,” Dion said.

“Probably tell you you’re an idiot,” Lizzie snorted.

“Because you’re an idiot,” Norma agreed.

Dion pouted the rest of the way to the hospital. The streets were still packed with People’s Republic military vehicles and troop detachments, but the Psychonaut activity was down and a lot of the ambulances were parked. The lobby of the hospital actually had open seats in it, and the hallways were mostly clear of patients. Raz sent the rest of the crew upstairs and popped into the ICU per Bob’s request. The Reds were all cleared out. Helmut was back in his ball caddy, bobbing upside down in his bowl.

“Agent Zanotto?” Raz asked.

Bob shushed him with a nod to the ball. “He’s asleep.”

“He doesn’t have ears so it’s probably fine,” Raz said. He put the envelope on the counter. “You wanted to see me?”

“I did, yeah.” Bob shifted his clipboards around. “I wanted to talk to you a bit more about you running off during your shift yesterday morning.”

“Oh…”

“I’m compiling reports on the Junior Agents. It’s the only way Truman agreed to let them come. You weren’t part of that briefing, so I wanted to inform you that you’ve been under review this whole time. I’m also aware that it’s not fair to report actions you’ve taken as violating the Grand Head’s directives when you didn’t know what they were. So here’s the deal. Agent Nein’s report on your behavior before you got here notwithstanding, you shirked off my orders to do what you wanted, then joined up with Compton’s team even though you’re technically my agent. That’s two points off already, which means one more and you’re looking at disciplinary action.”

“I guess that’s fair,” Raz sighed. “Although in my defense, I didn’t think helping Compton was going to be a problem. I was technically off-duty.”

“Hmm, maybe. But it did make you late.”

“Not REALLY late, though.”

Bob snorted at him. “Come on, Raz. Do I look like I want to put you on the no-fly list? You’re an actual asset to this operation. Some of our full-grown agents aren’t actual assets around here.”

Raz tried not to smile. “I mean, I try…”

“Just toe the line from now on, okay?”

“Don’t worry, sir. I’ll stay on task.”

“Good.” Bob made a note on the page in front of him. “Get upstairs.”

Raz took off for the door, but stopped just inside. “Sir?”

“Yeah?”

“Is Milla okay? When I left her she was in a recovery room. Are you still working on her mind?”

“We wrapped her up a couple hours ago. I just finished dismantling the coat check set,” Bob answered. “Otto’s got her off the schedule for the rest of the day so she can recover. Let’s hope she’s better at following directives than you are.”

Raz grinned. “Me too, sir! Me too.”

Chapter Text

A side effect of the triage on the ground-floor being cleaned out was the crowd on the upper recovery floors. Adam said the third floor was the “awake” patients. What he failed to mention was that they were awake and very very confused. The third floor wards were packed with beds and chairs scavenged from all over the hospital. Patients deemed well enough to move from the second floor were escorted up there to freak out or cry or whatever they needed to do to process what they’d gone through. As a result Floor Three was the designated “Upset people” zone.

In addition to Zheng Wei and his daughter, Agent 33 had a small army of recovered Psychics working with her. These newly-awakened Psychics sat and talked with patients who needed one-on-one attention. They did their best to explain what happened to them from the perspective of someone who lived through the trauma a well. Some just sat and listened, others offered comfort. These were the real and intended use of the “civilian volunteer” designation, and a sly means of getting new recruits for the Psychonauts. Half of those assigned to Thirty-three had already requested a formal Psychonaut application. Of course none of the Junior Agents knew any of the Chinese languages, so they were put to work fetching glasses of water and snacks.

“Neruman!” Agent 33 shouted across the ward. “Stop levitating stuff to people. You’re freaking them out!”

“But it’s faster!” Gisu called back.

“Does it look like I care?” The blonde replied. “Just stop it!”

“Okay, okay, sheesh.” Gisu sulked up her assigned aisle holding a trash bin to patients ready to dispose of their granola wrappers, plastic cups, and used tissues.

Raz delivered the last of his tray-full of paper cups and ventured to their supervisor. “Agent 33?”

She stopped speaking to a patient and turned, annoyed. “Agent Aquato?”

“Are you sure this is all we can do for you?” Raz asked. “I mean, we’re full-blown Psychonauts. We’ve got specialized skills and the people conscripted yesterday are more useful than us.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Agent 33 said. “Dismissing humanitarian assistance as part of your broader responsibility tells me a lot about you as a person.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Raz said. “Humanitarian assistance is super important, I just wonder if there’s not something more useful – ”

Agent 33 cocked a hip and folded her arms. “Not all assignments are Psi-blasts and Levitation. Only a couple favored agents get to be superstars, the rest of us concern ourselves with the actual people on the ground. No mission we run is ever victim-free. A Psychic menace devastates a township? The Psychonauts send a Face in first to defeat them and make the news, then send the rank-and-filers in the back door to rehabilitate both the citizens and the Psychic’s reputation in general. The people sitting in these beds have every reason to hate Psychics forever after something like this. One Psychic came in unprovoked and destroyed their way of life in a fraction of an instant. Without us to provide balance, they’d never trust a Psychic again – and that’s assuming they trusted us to start with.”

Raz’s heart clenched. “I recognize all that, I’m just asking — ”

“You don’t see the stars of your comic books sticking around for weeks after an incident making sure everyone’s nightmares are taken care of,” Agent 33 continued. “You don’t see the agents with the branding lowering themselves to help the ones they inadvertently hurt.”

“Now hold on, there, ma’am,” Raz said. “If you’re talking about Sasha and Milla you’re wrong about that. They help people on the ground a lot. Sasha and Coach Oleander helped clean up after a Mind Bomb all by themselves, and not only did Milla sacrifice her own health to rescue thousands of lost minds, she spent all day yesterday in a coma making sure they were happy and cared for in her head.”

“And where is she and her human-tongue-depresser-lookin’ partner now, then hm? Delivering aid packages? No, they’re back at HQ for senior staff briefings. Or at least they will be. The Mental Minx isn’t sticking around any longer than she has to.”

Raz stiffened. “She’s leaving?”

“I’d bet my next paycheck on it,” Agent 33 said. “In the meantime you, I, and our fellow aides will remain here doing the most valuable work – making sure everyone’s got food and water and no one’s still panicking about having their brains ripped out.”

Raz sighed and took up his tray again. “I’ll get back to work.”

“Good idea.”

Raz went to fill more cups from the massive PRMC water tank on the card table at the front of the room. He had to admit Agent 33 had a point about superstar vs rank-and-filer. Raz didn’t want to join the Psychonauts to hand out boxes of tissues, he wanted to be like his heroes. At the same time, he couldn’t dismiss the irony of a woman who apparently cares so much about the feelings of others being so abrasive and rude to a literal child. His whole chest was tight thinking about it.

Frazie leaned in beside him out of nowhere. “Hey bro.”

“Gaah!” Raz nearly spilled the cup he was holding. “Frazie. Don’t do that.”

“The Mental Minx,” Frazie ventured, unbothered. “That’s Work Mom, right?”

“Work Mom?” Gisu asked. She and Dion joined them to fill more cups. He was firmly in the pouting phase of grief.

“The tall gorgeous one with the hair.” Frazie answered. “She’s Work Mom.”

“Often referenced in combo with Work Dad,” Dion added.

“Hold up.” Gisu gave Raz a prying look. “Sasha and Milla are your Work Mom and Work Dad?”

Raz shrugged, wearily. “Our mom refuses to learn their names.”

“I see, so this is your mom’s fault,” Gisu said. “What does she call Coach?”

“Little Annoying Soldier Man,” Raz replied.

Gisu snorted. “Okay. And Hollis?”

“Prima Donna Woman.”

“And Truman?”

“Beardy Boss.”

“Beardy Boss!” Gisu burst into full-bellied laughter. “Oh my god! I’m calling him Beardy Boss from now on. Your mom is a genius!”

Raz groaned. “It’s not funny, okay? Mom’s getting better about the whole Psychic thing, but it hasn’t been easy. I’ll take the victories I can get.”

“So what does she call us?” Gisu asked.

“She can’t really tell you all apart,” Frazie answered instead. “When I say I’m coming over to visit, she calls you all our ‘Little Psychic Friends’.”

“And let me guess, she calls me your ‘Psychic Girlfriend’?” Gisu teased Dion.

Dion’s reproach paled into something close to shame. He rubbed his arm and averted his eyes in a way Raz recognized in himself. “She uh… she didn’t know about you.”

Gisu was agog. “You didn’t tell her about me?”

“What does it matter? You weren’t my girlfriend anyway.”

“Yeah, but YOU didn’t know that!” Gisu cried. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell her about me! Some not-boyfriend you are!”

Dion rounded on her. “Mom HATES Psychics! She’s hated Psychics our whole lives, even though like half the family was Psychic. It’s been two weeks since we found out Nona was a terrorist, I wasn’t gonna spring that on her NOW. I was one of the normal ones! What was she going to think when she learned I was in love with a Psychic? I’m normal, not an idiot.”

“Did… did you just say you were in love?” Frazie asked.

Dion’s eyes widened. His face flushed.

Gisu blushed a little, too. She smoothed the scarf around her face to hide it. “Well, anyway. She’d have to get used to it. And you ARE an idiot.”

Dion pouted again. “Apparently I am.”

She wilted. So did Dion. Raz cleared his throat but was interrupted by Agent 33 before he could speak.

“Hey! Stop congregating. It’s not THAT kind of water cooler!”

“Yes, ma’am!” Raz called back.

Raz carried his restocked tray back into the aisles of chairs. Frazie followed behind him with a box of cracker packets and a trash can, leaving Gisu and Dion to refill their cups. Only a couple of the patients took any water. Most of them were still in shock. Some were crying uncontrollably.

Frazie leaned forward. “Why are they acting like this if they’re cured?”

“Their minds are back in their heads, but that doesn’t take away the experience of being blown up. I’ll tell you first hand it wasn’t a lot of fun.”

Frazie gaped at him. “You had your mind ripped out? When?”

“Day before yesterday.”

“What was it like?”

“It wasn’t as scary to me as it was for them, but it wasn’t fun.” Raz searched for the right description. “You know how when we thought the family curse was real, and getting sucked underwater meant no matter how hard you swim you can’t get out because it’s literally holding you down and you really want to breathe but you know you can’t because you’ll just drown yourself?”

Frazie blinked a couple times.

Raz sucked his teeth. “Guess that was just me.”

“So how’d you put yourself back together?” Frazie asked. “Do they teach you that in Psychonauts Intern Training?”

He shook his head. “Sasha did it for me.”

“Is that Work Dad?”

“Yes, that’s Work Dad.”

“Glad he was there. This looks awful.” Frazie tightened her grip on the trash can as she inched past a patient babbling in Chinese. “Wish I knew what they were saying.”

“Me too.”

“You know, Number Lady isn’t the only one who speaks every language,” Frazie ventured.

Raz snorted at “Number Lady,” “Are you saying you’re Omniliguist like Thirty-three?”

“No, all three of us are!” Frazie grinned and posed with the cracker box balanced on her head. “Acrobtics! Anyone can understand that.”

“You want to put on a show for them?”

“Why not? It’ll cheer them up,” Frazie said. “Get their minds off the fact they had their minds… off.. or something.”

“I don’t think that’s the kind of humanitarian aid Agent 33 had in mind.”

“Forget her, this is better,” Frazie insisted. “We’ll do the bottom half of the Aquato Inverted Pyramid. The version before Queepie came along. Dion and I will do Mom and Dad’s part and you can be Dion’s bit.”

Raz surveyed the worried crowd and took the trash can from his sister’s hand. “I’ll finish with the snacks. You talk to Dion. I’ll meet you in the middle aisle.”

Frazie fired a finger gun at him. “Gotcha!”

Raz rushed to distribute supplies to the rest of his assigned patients. Gisu watched him from across the room with suspicious eyes, but was distracted by a cheer as Frazie shouted to the ward through a handmade paper megaphone.

“Attention! Attention!” Frazie called. “All eyes turn to the thrilling physicality of the amazing Aquatos and their feat of daring high-flying abandon!”

The patients stared, baffled, as Frazie cartwheeled away, singing acapella carnival music as Dion came back-handspringing down the center aisle. He popped a double flip and stuck the landing with a bow. Frazie banged a bedpan for applause and their audience complied.

Dion took up the job as jukebox as Frazie mounted a bedframe and contorted herself into a one-handed handstand. She waited through the following applause before springing toward her brother. The two grabbed hands on the fly and flipped each other sidelong, locking knees and leaning out to form the triangular point of the inverted pyramid.

When Raz was little, he watched his mom, dad, and older siblings do this trick a hundred times. He knew their parts well, even if the move was retired now that so many Aquatos were performing together. He charged toward the assembly, performing greater and greater leaps with larger and larger numbers of flips until he was soaring toward his singing siblings from above. He swan-dived onto their joined hands, grabbing them at the wrists and using them as a pommel horse to kick and twirl through a gymnastic routine that finished with a hand-standing split. Frazie and Dion grabbed his feet, forming the “base” of the inverted pyramid and shouting “Ta da!” to enthusiastic applause.

“Woohoo!” Gisu shouted with a whistle. “Encore!”

“Excuse me, what was that?” Agent 33 asked, less impressed. “This isn’t a circus!”

“Actually, it is,” Raz said, still upside down. “We’re a traveling circus, so technically everywhere we go the circus goes, too.”

“Just thought we’d bring a little… levity!” Dion used his and Frazie’s arms to trampoline Raz upward. The two on the ground slipped out of their “pyramid” stance and stood casually as the youngest Aquato landed with one foot on each of his siblings shoulders. The crowd clapped again.

“See, look what a good job we did,” Frazie said. “Everyone loves a good show.”

Nearly every eye in the ward was on the impromptu performance. People who’d been weeping were smiling and leaning forward to see what the kids would do next. Agent 33 couldn’t argue, but clearly didn’t enjoy being wrong. She crossed her arms. “Well, no more flying feats, You’ll kick somebody in the head.”

“Kick you in the head,” Frazie mumbled at Thirty-three’s retreating back.

Dion snorted. “Who needs ‘er? I thought that was pretty good.”

Frazie reached for her basket of snacks with the toe of her booth. “Bet you boys can’t juggle these saltines.”

“Bet you I can!” Dion said.

Raz sighed and hopped down from their shoulders. “I should get some more waters.”

“Quitter,” Frazie snorted.

Raz left the two tossing crackers back and forth and headed back to the water cooler for more paper cups. Gisu was still there, sipping her own beverage. “So that’s a normal day in the life of the Aquatos, huh?”

“More or less until recently.”

“Not bad. I can see how it could come in handy as a Mental Navigator. Of course nothing beats a good hoverboard.” She sipped again. “You guys still put on shows.”

“The other family members do. I’m busy with Psychonaut stuff.”.

“Too bad. I might come watch sometime. The other Jr’s might come, too, if I recommend you.”

“I’m sure the family would like that.”

“Would you like that?”

“Being in the circus has been my identity my whole life,” Raz replied. “Now that I’m here, I feel like I can finally mean something. Do something that matters.”

“I think this matters.” Gisu gestured to the circle of patients massing around Frazie and Dion’s juggling act. “Can’t fix a mind without fixing a heart, too.”

He raised his eyebrows to her. “Been thinking a lot about hearts recently, Gisu?”

She shrugged one shoulder and finished her up. “A bit.”

“Ahem!” Norma’s voice coughed from the double doors beside them. Raz turned to see her beckoning. “Raz! Over here!”

“I’m on duty!” He held up his tray of water as proof, but Gisu floated it out of his hand.

“I’ll take over.”

He regarded her laid-back pose skeptically, but curiosity beckoned even more urgently than Norma did. Raz made sure Agent 33 wasn’t looking and tiptoed through the doors. Both Natividad sisters were waiting for him in the hall. Raz’s guard went up. “What’s going on here? Do you need help? Did you find something in your research?”

“Ugh, no, boring.” Lizzie said.

“We have unfinished business, remember?” Norma asked. “We wanted to ask you an important question.”

Raz’s frowned. “What question?”

Lizzie’s tone leveled. “Is Frazie a Psychic?”

Raz blinked, brain backfiring a moment. He cleared his throat. “You invited me on a life-threatening mission to ask about Frazie?”

“We tried asking her, but she dodges us every time,” Lizzie said.

“We notice things. In general, but also about her. And not just in Fanrong,” Norma said. “She moves too quick. She’s got intuition. She goes invisible.”

“We THINK she goes invisible,” Lizzie corrected.

“So instead of speculating, want to know the truth from someone on the inside,” Norma said. “Because if she IS Psychic, she should totally join the intern program and become a Junior Psychonaut.”

“Then she can move into the dorms with you and hang out all the time,” Lizzie agreed. “She’s cool. She’d fit in great.”

“So give us the truth, Aquato,” Norma prompted. “Is she Psychic or not?”

Raz cringed. “I uh… I can’t really say…”

“So dodging runs in your family too, Pooter?” Lizzie sneered.

“I just think she’s the one who has to tell you this kind of thing or not me,” Raz insisted. “Even if I take a guess, she’s the only one who knows for sure what she is or what she isn’t, or if she feels safe admitting any of that. You understand..”

“Ugh, you’re such a goodie two-shoes,” Lizze groaned.

“I’m not! I mean, I don’t mean to be – ”

“I didn’t want it to come to this, but you leave us no choice,” Norma said. “I’m going to prove she is a Psychic whether she knows it herself or not, and when it happens I want you to remember we had this talk.”

“Norma, don’t,” Raz said. “Frazie’s cool whether she’s Psychic or not, right? You’ve been hanging out. You don’t want to ruin your friendship over this.”

“I won’t ruin it when I’m right.”

“But –” He attempted another tactic but was interrupted by Otto Mentallis who stomped off the elevator burdened with a pile of folders and a deep, sleep-deprived scowl.

“There you girls are! I assigned you to the second floor!”

“I, uh… we were just talking!” Raz stammered.

“Nevermind, I don’t care.” Otto whipped a clump of manila folders from the pile in the crook of his arm and TK’d a labeled one into each of the Junior Psychonauts’ hands. “New orders from the top. Gather your things from HQ and find your assigned carriers.”

“Carriers?” Lizzie asked. “We’re leaving?”

“There’s been a fourth bomb,” Otto said. “Labria, Algeira. Global news already knows. We’re bugging out.”

“To go to Africa?” Raz asked.

“For home,” Otto said. “The world thinks it’s our fault.”

Chapter Text

Raz sat strapped into the airline seat of the Psychonauts’ largest crew carriers, a passenger jet christened “Albatross” in typical naming convention. Five jumbo jets full of agents landed in China after Fanrong was hit. Two of them left for Argentina. Of the three remaining, the Albatross was headed west for home with the Junior Agents, a couple hundred field agents, and the command staff aboard. Of the other two, one with Agent 33 and her teams was headed east to Northern Africa and the fourth victim town. Even with the world turning against them, the Psychonauts still had to help. Dr. Cao and a small team was left in Fanrong to finish the cleanup.

Raz wished them luck. Fanrong had a lot of work left to do and with such a small team, and the Labria team was landing in a hotbed of media and international politics. Raz watched the city recede from his airplane seat beside Frazie and Dion, thinking about how large it looked from above and how Labria in Algeria was twice Fanrong’s size and only a fifth of their forces were headed there. Oleander guessed after Argentina was hit that the cities were being targeted because they were small enough to be completely contained by the Mind Bomb, but that was not the case, now. There were other cities in Algeria that would fit that trend, but they weren’t chosen. They chose one with plenty of witnesses. It seemed Hornblower and the Mentalists WANTED the attack to make news. What had changed between the Argentina attack and the Algeria attack that led to that decision? Was it because Horatio got the book from the Lowha Lasung library? Did it have to do with the man controlling the Medium and what he learned from the Pscyhonaut recovery project? Raz needed more information to know for sure. If only Norma and Lizzie had learned something in their research worth telling him intsead of concerning themselves with Frazie's Psychic status…

“I just think we should be heading to Africa! Not back home!” Gisu kicked the seat in front of her out of frustration.

Sam stood in the affected seat and glared at her over the seat back. “Rude.”

“Perhaps we weren’t needed in Africa,” Adam suggested. “You know, my mother used to work for the OAU in their Psychic deployment division. They don’t have the numbers we do, but the people they've got are capable.”

“Used to?” Dion asked. The three Aquatos were in the same row of seats with Raz on the window and Dion on the aisle. Raz wished they’d swapped before takeoff. Dion smirked. “She get fired?”

“Excuse you.” Adam frowned. “She had her reasons. My point is that the Organisation of African Unity will be providing support Fanrong didn’t have from China, so maybe things will work out.”

“Does every country have a 'Psychonauts' of their own?” Frazie asked Raz.

He brightened, thrilled to be consulted. “The OAU isn’t a country, it's a collection of countries. Like an African UN. They have a Psychic management division, but it’s mostly for supporting Psychics in their communities, not for like… attack and defense reasons. The Psychonauts are pretty unique about that.”

“Which is why Truman’s sending a bunch of us there, anyway,” Adam added. “We can do the field world and the local department can do the therapy and support. Cooperation is going to be very important.”

“It better be,” Morris muttered. “If Agent Vodello got overwhelmed managing one of these attacks, I can’t imagine what a bunch of untrained government employees are going to do.”

“Not every Psychic needs to be measured by the yardstick that is Milla Vodello,” Norma groaned. “A team of eight got Buxing under control, right? I’m sure the entire continent of Africa has more than eight Psychics.”

“I’ll remind you, one of those eight was Milla,” Morris noted.

Norma threw up her hands. “Eight plus whatever number she represents, then!”

“Hello, children,” Milla said. The Junior Psychonauts went stiff, but she sashayed up the aisle from first class as if she hadn’t overheard them just talking about her. “How is everyone doing? Was take off okay?”

“We’re okay, Milla,” Morris said. “You?”

“Never better, darling, thank you.” Milla was ordered back to the Motherlobe by Truman even before the rest were. Otto said it was because she was still on the Pelican’s special detail, but that was probably an excuse to pull her out of the heavy mental-lifting. Sasha saved her from getting her brain rebooted, but she was still not quite back to her usual easy-going self. A shade of that exhausted film still coated the back of her eyes, like part of her mind was still wandering. She smiled and blinked the haziness away. “I wanted to check on you all before settling in. Is everyone comfortable?”

“Comfortable enough for coach,” Lizzie muttered.

“Very good,” Milla said. “Try to get some sleep on the way. The captain is going to lower the pressure in the cabin to make us all nice and drowsy. It’ll do us some good.”

“Milla?” Raz asked. “What’s going to happen with the news and everything? Is the government going to shut us down?”

“I hope not, darling,” she replied. “Legally, we are a for-profit international organization. There is some government oversight, yes, but that’s mostly to do with permissions and funding. The quarry where the Motherlobe is located is technically a property of the United States that they lease to us to use. If they really want to shut us down, they would start by locking us out of there.”

“Lock us out of the Motherlobe?” Raz asked. “They’d really do that?”

“Not if they know what’s good for them!” Adam interrupted. “The Psychonauts have saved their butts too many times to get rid of us now!”

“It’s a delicate situation,” Milla said. “But there’s no use in worrying about things we can’t change. The best we can do right now is rest up and be ready to meet any challenges head on. I hope with all my heart that this fourth bomb is the last, but if it’s not… you Junior Agents may be called on again to help.”

Gisu rallied. “We’ll be ready!”

“Yeah, we’ll be ready,” Raz agreed with less enthusiasm. His stomach was double-knotted, but he tried not to let it show.

“Thank you, children. If you need anything, the senior agents and I are just through the curtain at the front. Don’t hesitate to ask, okay?”

“Okay,” the Junior Agents chorused.

Milla floated back to first class. Dion leaned into the aisle to watch her go. “Your work mom is really… uh… nice.”

“You mean she looks nice,” Gisu snorted.

Dion glared at her and sank back into his seat for another marathon pouting session. The other Junior Agents pulled out headphones and books. Raz returned to the window, his mind swirling with Fanrong and Buxing and Lowha Lasung.

Frazie whispered to him. “Do you think we’re going to get called up for duty again after we get back? Dion and Me, I mean. We’re on their books now. What if they need Civilian Volunteers for Algeria?”

Raz raised an eyebrow. “Is that something you’d want?”

“No,” Frazie coughed. “I mean, maybe. If everyone else was going.”

“I’m not. You can’t make me.” Dion said.

“Don’t be a sissy,” Frazie smirked.

“So I’m a sissy for not wanting to get my brains blown out by a mental terrorist? Did you see those people? My luck I’d be a Red 1 and end up hospitalized for life.”

“Ah, I see, you’re right. You’re not a sissy, you’re a jerk,” Frazie said. “Those people didn’t ask to get exploded.”

“I know they didn’t.” Dion sank deeper into his seat. “I just want to go home.”

The jet left Chinese airspace and arched above the Pacific Ocean, headed back to the Motherlobe. The low pressure trick worked on Raz for about five hours at the beginning and five more at the end. He woke to the sound of the seatbelt light turning on. He was drooling on the window where a view of the sunny continental US unfolded below them.

Watching the Motherlobe come into view was thrilling every time. He knew the brain-shaped main building from the pages of True Psychic Tales, but to see it in real life and to rush toward it in the Pelican alongside his comic book heroes? Magic. Approaching in a passenger jet lacked that extra spark, but gave him butterflies nonetheless. The Albatross shuddered as it switched from jet power to Psitanium drive power. Raz craned his neck and got a good look at the Pelican parked in the premiere spot in front of the main entrance of the Motherlobe. The Albatross passed the quarry depression and hovered above a camouflaged trapdoor hidden in the hillside behind the main building. The ship descended straight down into an excavated cavern big enough to hold all of the Psychonauts vehicular equipment. Planes, cars, ATVs, snowmobiles, submarines… everything super-secret agents needed for international interventions. Two carrier jets were already in their designated spaces along the wall. Argentina had beaten them home. The Albatross spun as it descended and tucked in the row beside its smaller companions. The passengers had to wait for the Psitanium whirr to cease before they were allowed to disembark.

Descending the stairs into the hangar cavern filled Raz’s head with the chilled air and earthy smell of the Pacific Northwest. He’d only lived at the Motherlobe for a couple weeks so far, but it still felt comforting. As if he were home. Morris bounced his lawn chair down the rail of the mobile staircase. “Last one to the cafeteria is a rotten egg!”

“Not before I get a shower,” Gisu groaned. “See you back at the farm, Raz?”

“I’ll be along. I gotta check in around here first.” He turned to Frazie and Dion, brow knit. “Would you guys like to bunk with me for a while? There’s only one bed in my room, but I can make room on the floor.”

“Thanks, Raz, but Dion and I are going to skeedaddle,” Frazie said. “Mom’s probably worried about us.”

“I thought you were too scared to face her.”

“Scared? Of Mom?” Dion crossed his arms. “I’ve seen war, now, Raz. I’m wisened.”

Frazie shook her head. “We’ll take care of things back at camp. Looks like you have someone waiting for you.”

She pointed toward the main access door where two figures were waiting. Sasha Nein and Lili Zanotto who was trying very hard not to bounce on her toes. Raz grinned, stupidly. Frazie knocked him on the head and steered Dion into the throng headed for the surface elevator. Raz weaved through his fellow disembarking agents until he and Lili met eyes. "Lili!"

“Raz!” She clamped him in a hug so strong it almost dislocated his shoulders. “You were gone forever! I have so much to tell you!”

“I can’t wait!” Raz wheezed through compressed lungs.

She let go and smoothed her dress, appearing once again to be too cool for school. Raz’s attention turned to Sasha, dressed in a black suit with one of what Raz was quickly realizing was an endless number of striped turtleneck sweaters. The agent nodded, one hand in his pocket. “Welcome back Razputin. How goes the mission?”

“It’s been... educational,” Raz said.

Sasha cut half a grin. “I hoped that it would be.”

“Hello, darling!” Milla floated in to lace her hands through Sasha’s crooked arm. “Is training going well?”

Sasha’s half smile pulled tight and lost all sincerity. “It’s… challenging. Our special guest is difficult to work with, but I haven’t changed his mind about dueling, so the work carries on.”

“I see…” She frowned at a spot on his right cheek where a purplish blotch peeked from beneath the corner of his glasses. “Is that a bruise?”

Sasha’s face tightened further.

She raised his lenses for a better look. “Do you have a black eye!?”

“Milla.” Sasha squinted hard in the overhead light and nudged the shades back into place. “It’s fine.”

“Good, you’re finally here.” Hollis Forscythe joined them from the levitation shaft. The Second Head’s navy power suit highlighted the newly bronzed look of her dark skin. She canted her head toward Milla. “Doing all right?”

“Everyone keeps asking me that,” Milla sighed. “I’m fine. No more passengers. No more tethers. I even gave the DJ the day off.”

Hollis looked satisfied. Raz took the opportunity to change the subject. “How was your vacation, Agent Forscythe?”

“Divine. In fact my husband decided to stay an extra week.” Her face fell into a scowl. “He keeps sending me overnight postcards with ‘Wish you were here’ on them. No message. Extra postage. It’s what I get for marrying a man with a sense of humor.”

Otto, Compton, and Bob joined the group one by one. Cassie was missing, but that was normal for her. She never liked Motherlobe stuff. Helmut was tucked safely in the cat-carrier Bob carried like a backpack. Raz spied through the plexiglass window and saw him sleeping upside down in his ball.

“What’s the news on Argentina?” Otto asked Hollis. “What state did you leave it in?”

“You’ll get the full story upstairs,” Hollis answered. “Senior staff meeting in thirty minutes. We’ll be in the nerve center. Bring whatever paperwork you’ve prepared. I expect an honest report out of all of you. Especially you.” She leveled a finger a Milla. “I’m watching you.”

Milla shook her head at Sasha who was wholly amused. The senior staff turned straight for the levtubes, mustered by last-minute presentation prep. Lili tugged the strap of Raz’s flight helmet. “You know what this means right?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Rodent Recon?”

She snickered wickedly. “Rodent. Recon.”

The two hopped a lift upward and went straight to work.

Chapter Text

“I can’t wait to show you what I’ve found!” Lili cried. She sprinted through the atrium of the Motherlobe, towing Raz behind her. Headquarters was oddly empty with everyone resting or out on assignment. It robbed the place of a certain spirit.

Instead of hopping into an OttoB.O.N. hatch or steering toward the central elevator, Lili dragged Raz up the branching path toward the Agents’ offices. When he first visited the Motherlobe, Raz wondered why Sasha and Milla were the only ones in the “Agents” section off the atrium while all the other agents were either on the basement levels or in satellite buildings around the quarry or up the road. After the first school visit he understood completely. It was for show.

Sasha and Milla were comic book stars. Not only did the kids who came visiting already know them by face, they loved and trusted them before they even arrived. Kids expected to meet their heroes, so their heroes were presented in the grandest most comic-book-appropriate fashion possible – not that either of the agents minded. They both liked kids and definitely liked the extra space the Atrium level gave them. The presentation-strategy worked on adults just as well, and as Lili and Raz rounded the corner by the aquarium, they nearly barrelled into a meeting of Truman, Sasha, and Milla in the sitting area outside their workspaces alongside a fourth man wearing a stiff gray suit with a tiny American flag pin on his lapel.

Lili yanked Raz into one of the topiaries before they were caught.

“Agents, I’m sure you remember Mr. Webb from the CIA,” Truman said.

“But of course! From the conference last year,” Milla offered an elegant hand to the official. “Agent MIlla Vodello. Herbert, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, ah, yes,” Webb’s stony, chinless countenance cracked beneath her charm. He took her hand and almost looked like he was going to kiss it before shaking it congenially. “Bert if you like.”

Milla’s smile broadened. “Bert. A pleasure.”

The look on Sasha’s face told Raz he disagreed about the “pleasure” part. “Is there something we can help you with, Mr. Webb?”

“Yes, actually.” Webb clasped his hands behind his back. “The President sent me in response to troubling international reports. Grand Head Zanotto has already shared the facts from your side. He said you two could speak to the details.”

Truman’s confirming nod had a twist to it, implying a telepathic message that both Milla and Sasha acknowledged by pinning smiles on their faces. Sasha stepped forward. “Why don’t we step into my office?”

The four moved close enough for the double doors to activate, revealing the banks of lighted computer panels and experimental technology amassed inside. Webb staggered a moment, stiff professional posture gone. Truman put a hand on his back. “Don’t be intimidated, our R&D department is all about furthering the possibilities of the human mind…”

A chittering noise drew Raz’s attention as Harold the rat wriggled out of a hole in the wall and sprinted toward the closing doors.

“Harold!” Raz hissed, but Lili slugged him in the arm. She focused on Harold with Clairvoyance. Raz hurried to do the same before the rat slipped through the closing panels and into Sasha’s laboratory. The light panels were even more dazzling in Harold’s blurred long-distance vision. He diverted away from the dancing dots into Sasha’s cluttered parlor. Harold scaled the decorative wall one ledge at a time, avoiding the pinned bank reports still stuck opposite the couch, and settled in a gap near the ceiling. From there he had a birds’ eye view of the central exam table where the four adults stood within a semicircle of rolling cork boards where printed readouts, newspaper clippings, and marked reports were secured in labeled columns. To Raz’s relief, there was no yarn. Mr. Webb didn’t need to draw any conclusions about their sanity.

“As you can see, we’ve been following the situation very carefully,” Sasha explained. “You’ve been told about the Psychic terrorist who escaped Mongolia earlier this week. We are receiving reports from around the world concerning his whereabouts.”

“He has a team of forty convicts moving with him,” Milla added. “These convicts are the ones who are creating these emergencies.”

“Under the terrorist’s direction,” Sasha finished.

“And do we know who this terrorist is?” Webb asked.

“We’ve code-named him Hornblower,” Truman said. “I’ll… forward you his file.”

“Yes, that would be good,” Webb said. “Do you have PROOF of his involvement at all these sites? The President will find it hard to believe that one man who just escaped from prison can decimate cities on three continents mere hours apart.”

“We will have more evidence within the hour, but there is solid proof it is him.” Sasha passed him a collection of photos.

Webb looked at them and recoiled. “They’re headless!”

“The uniforms are from the prison.”

“But why don’t they have heads?” Webb said. “What in god’s name is happening?”

“We have it under control,” Truman said. He nodded again to Sasha who pulled a folder from beneath a pile of books on the exam table. Truman took the folder and removed a page. “Here is a list of all our flight times in and out of various cities corresponding with blackout times when the same cities went dark. You can see that we responded to the events as quickly as possible. Local authorities have initialed the arrival times to confirm our movements.”

Webb took the sheet with a shaky hand. “I assume you have on-the-ground reports from China and Argentina. I want those reports forwarded, too.”

‘“Of course,” Truman confirmed.

“How can you prove you didn’t send these…” Webb gulped, “...headless men in ahead of you with your telekinesis or whatever?”

“Telekinesis would be highly impractical in that case,” Sasha said.

“While we do have one agent on staff with the capability to Teleport persons from one place to another, sending a full grown man such a distance from the Motherlobe would be extremely difficult.” Milla clarified. “We have eye-witness confirmation that Hornblower is using his own Teleporter to move his convicts, but it would be too much for one Psychic to manage without taking several smaller trips. They’d have better luck going further if they had a team of support-minds bolstering their abilities, or if they teleported to places with high concentrations of Psitanium to enhance their Psychic powers. The Psychonauts have most of the major Psychoactive mineral deposits under surveillance either with on-site installations or remote security.”

“What makes you so sure he’s not using one those? If this was an inside job – ”

“I’ve had Nerve Center staff monitoring all our stakes carefully since we learned of the Teleporter,” Truman said. “None of our sites have been disturbed, but ours are far from the only ones out there. Many of the largest deposits are under the jurisdiction of foreign governments for example. Others are yet undiscovered.”

“Undiscovered?” Webb repeated, warily.

“There’s more Psitanium in the world than most people think,” Sasha informed him. “The largest craters are well documented, but there are smaller impact zones in remote regions of the world. There could be thousands of Pscyhoactive fallout zones yet undiscovered. An exciting concept.”

“This still doesn’t prove you folks aren’t involved,” Webb said. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d rather you weren’t. It’s just my job to prove it.”

“Of course, darling,” Milla said. “How about I line up some interviews with our agents who have just arrived from the field. They can give you a first-hand assessment of what we’ve been doing.”

“And I can prepare a cache of security footage and local police and military reporting from the Pelican’s memory to give perspective on the sites before and after the attacks took place,” Sasha added.

Truman cleared his throat.

Sasha’s shoulders squared. “I meant, I will FIND someone to do that.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Truman said to the broader group. “How about I get you quarters and a workspace on site, Mr. Webb? Then you can stay as long as you like and do a deeply thorough job for the President.”

“Uh… fine, just fine,” the CIA agent stiffened again, looking even less assured now than when he arrived. Raz’s guts rolled in anxiety.

Truman led Webb out of the room and Sasha and Milla exhaled a joint sigh. Sasha dropped his head into his hands. “Mein Gott.”

“Don’t worry, darling. We’ve done nothing wrong,” Milla said. “He won’t find any evidence if there is none for him to find.”

“It’s just one thing after another.” Sasha adjusted his glasses. “If only I were three men instead of one…”

“Focus on your main task,” Milla coached. “Do you have your report ready for the staff meeting?”

“Mostly. It’s here and there.”

“How can I help?”

“Okay, Harold. That’s enough.” Lili’s thoughts intruded on the scene, reminding Raz that he was both remote-viewing via rat and that he wasn’t doing it alone. ” Regroup at the rendez-vous point before we lose our chance!”

Harold chittered. He traversed the top of the decorative wall and squeezed into the ceiling through a loose panel. Raz drew his mind back from Harold’s awareness just in time for Truman and Webb to walk past their topiary hiding place. Lili tugged him deeper into the leaves.

“I’m afraid this situation isn’t going to fly with the president. He’s a bit stacked against you,” Webb said, scanning his papers. “I hope for your sake this isn’t a cover up.”

“Why would it be a cover up?” Truman asked. “What does he think goes on around here?”

“Magic, honestly,” Webb said.

Truman cracked his knuckles behind his back. “And what do YOU think goes on here?”

“It’s not my job to think. It’s my job to observe.”

Truman nodded sagely, then stated. “I think I’ll put you in the mail room. Nice and private in there.”

Lili waited until they were safely out of earshot and gave Raz a nudge. The two sneaked from the planters and into the sitting area where Lili dashed straight for the service closet to the left of Milla’s meditation room. She reached into a pocket in her bolero jacket and pulled out a homemade skeleton key to pick the lock.

“What are we doing?” Raz asked.

“Shh! You’ll see in a sec.” Lili twisted the handle and slipped into the darkened room. Instead of mops and brooms, the closet was full of half-constructed steel frameworks and machine parts. A falcon sat blindfolded on a perch in the corner with a leather vest strapped across its chest. Lili unclipped the bird’s headgear and released it from the leash tying it to is perch.

Raz tilted his head. “Is that Oleander’s scientist bird?”

“Her name is Tonka, thanks very much,” Lili replied. Tonka snapped a short screech.

“Has she been in here the whole time the coach was on the Pelican mission?”

“Yes!” Lili seethed. “I knew as soon as he volunteered to go that he would forget about her! That’s why I broke in here. Oleander’s been using this closet as a secret workshop for ages. He’s hoping Dad will turn it into something official, but honestly he’s just jealous Sasha and Milla got special treatment. He’s got a workshop downstairs, but it’s not on the main floor so he doesn’t like it as much.”

“So this is all his equipment,” Raz noted, scanning the broken and salvaged bits of electronics and machinery. He recognized the dismembered bodies of a microwave and a Cob-Web Duster. The trash can was full of scratched-off Otto-matic brand labels and price tags. “Can you tell what he’s been working on?”

“Robots mostly, but look at this!” Lili removed the bird’s vest, revealing a circular glass lens and a coiled antenna attached to the back. “I found it when I broke in to spring Tonka from the clink. It’s a remote surveillance harness.”

“Whoa! That’s actually pretty cool,” Raz said. Lili handed him a clunky handheld receiver covered with even more antennas. There was a pane of glass in the middle. Raz looked in the tiny lens and his own face appeared on the playing-card-sized screen. “Have you tried it out?”

“Naturally.” Lili smirked. Harold appeared from the detritus of a nearby shelf. She held up the vest. “Ready for a new mission, Agent Kasparov?”

Harold gave a little nod and offered Lili his back. She strapped the camera harness on with a little effort and took the receiver from Raz. “Using this, not only can we watch people but we can record them using this.”

She pulled a handheld tape-recorder from her jacket. The flower stickers on top proved it was part of her private spy kit.

“It also means we don’t have to concentrate as much on maintaining Clairvoyance,” Lili continued. “Using mental powers wears your mind out, especially over a distance.”

Raz said and rubbed his neck. “Don’t I know it.”

“It’s going to make spying on the senior staff way easier.” Lili leaned toward her rat. “Can you sneak into the Nerve Center so we can monitor the senior staff meeting there?”

Harold nodded and squished back through the clutter. Raz and Lili squeezed shoulder-to-shoulder to watch his progress. Raz tried not to focus on how close they were to each other. She smelled like her garden. The heat of her cheek put him in mind of that first kiss at Thorny Towers, when the excitement of the fight with Oleander was still coursing through his chest and the world exploded.

“So…” Raz squeaked and gestured to Tonka. “Why didn’t you set her free when you broke in here to feed her?”

“She says she likes it in here,” Lili shrugged.

“She says?”

“Apparently Coach gives her good mice and it’s easier than hunting them outside. I think she’ll fly away eventually, but right now she’s happy for a long nap without a bigger bird trying to claw her to death.”

“She told you all that? Are you a Zoolingiust? Like, a REAL one?”

She blushed. “I mean, yeah.”

“Awesome! I suspected but didn’t know for sure. Could you always talk to animals? Did you teach yourself?”

She tucked a loose strand back into her pigtail. “I guess I’ve always had it a little, but animals aren’t as easy as plants. Since Agent Boole’s stopped spending so much time in the GPC, Dad asked him to give me lessons. We were supposed to have our third one yesterday but he was on assignment.”

“You can take lessons in that?” Raz leaned even closer. “Can you teach me how to do it?”

“Sure Raz, but it’s not as easy as giving you the code to the OttoB.O.N. You need to have a knack for it already or else you can’t really get more than surface thoughts.”

“How do I know if I’ve got the knack?”

“Do you know animals’ names?”

“Like wild animals?”

“Yeah, every animal has a name,” Lili said. “Do you know what they’re thinking?”

“If I use Clairvoyance.”

“No, not like that. Like when they’re close to you. Can you hear their thoughts?”

“Like… words?”

“They don’t really use words.”

“I can usually guess what Harold is thinking, but Harold is better at pantomime than your average rat.” Raz said.

Lili pouted at him. “And the squirrels?”

“Squirrels?” Raz flinched. “What about squirrels?”

“If you don’t know about squirrels, you don’t have the knack.”

He slouched in disappointment.

Lili patted his shoulder. “Sorry, Raz. It’s okay. Not everyone can be good at everything all the time.”

The screen in front of them flashed brighter as Harold emerged into the Nerve Center. Lili whipped out her floral tape deck and hit the red button with a flourish. Raz cranked the volume on the hand-held receiver and filled the tiny closet with Truman’s crackling voice.

Chapter Text

Raz immediately wished he’d Clairvoyance’d Harold instead of relying on the surveillance camera. The screen in the handheld monitor was tiny, and the view from above even tinier still. He could make out Sasha’s black suit and Milla’s long dark hair, but had to guess who the other shapes at the rounded briefing table were by general size. Truman was standing at the head of the table – his squarish beard looked like a seat cushion until he started talking.

“Okay, I want a full report of everyone’s departments. Share accomplishments, challenges, and next-steps. Hollis, you first.”

“Azaroso’s as good as we are going to get,” Hollis replied. “The local facilities are marginally sufficient for patients’ needs, but local law enforcement is not. Neighboring cities didn’t bother sending backup, assuming the city was experiencing a power or communication outage. It wasn’t until we arrived that an organized victim recovery program even began. Thankfully Azaroso is smaller than Buxing and MUCH smaller than Fanrong, so we are caught up quickly, but there were losses in the interim. And of course we’re not there now. I’d like to request a second team be allowed to return and check on them.”

“Denied. We can’t afford it,” Truman said.

“What if I petition for volunteers?” Hollis appealed.

“It’s not the money we can’t afford, it’s the press and personnel. Check in remotely,” Truman said. “Okay, Otto. How’s China?”

Otto’s smudge identified himself by leaning back in his chair. “China would be fine if we were still there. Unfortunately we had to pull out short-notice and spread our team to two separate additional continents, so China’s now a shitshow, thank you very much.”

Truman grunted. “And the next steps?”

“Cao is the new team leader. I think he can handle it,” Otto replied. “Most of what we actually need to be involved in is medical, so he can focus our attention on mental recovery. Unfortunately that means the rest of the operation is going to the People’s Republic, which means he’s going to have a rough time getting anything done. I guarantee our HQ is already dismantled and anything we may have left behind is being raked for military intel.”

“Did we… leave anything behind?” Hollis asked, suggestively. “Maybe on one of the middle floors?”

“I didn’t,” Otto retorted. “Why would you ever suggest such a thing?”

“Let’s say a little birdie told me.”

“The birdie underestimates my ability to pack a suitcase.”

“Let’s stay on topic,” Truman said. “Agent Zanotto, you’re next.”

“Reconstruction in China has gone well, all things considered,” Bob said. “We won’t have the final numbers until everything’s collated, but based on what moved through my office, specifically, I’d guess we recovered ninety percent of the city’s dementistrated population. Of that, we’ve restored maybe a quarter to full for full-ish health with more requiring additional therapies.We left 1,573 mindless bodies in the hospital when we pulled out with an additional ten-thousand in recovery on the upper floors and our off-site locations. The number of patients we were expected to care for was overwhelming, so those numbers are extremely impressive if you think about it.”

“What about deaths?” Truman asked.

“Can’t count them all yet. My tally was 5,056 at the end of yesterday – ”

“5,000 dead?” Compton cried.

“That’s just MY count. We’ll need Cao’s report to see what casualties he’s got in his department, and you’ll have to ask the Chinese government how many they found dead on the scene,” Bob said. “I’m sure the People’s Republic’s grand accumulated total will be less than any of those numbers individually.”

Truman hung his head. “Right.”

“At least that’ll work in our favor with the news,” Hollis sighed.

“The news?” Compton sounded appalled. “Thousands are dead.”

“You implying we didn’t work hard enough?” Bob challenged.

“No, I just…” Compton’s dark smudge got smaller. “It’s tragic.”

“With 100,000 estimated victims, I say it’s pretty damn good,” Bob snorted. “My team was top notch and efficient. We couldn’t have moved any faster, especially after we were robbed of personnel halfway through. I’d like to see anyone else do better.”

“It’s also important to remember that many of those souls were lost before we even arrived,” Milla said. “Half of the fatalities in Buxing were from physical traumas sustained in the process of suddenly losing consciousness. Those driving vehicles, those performing dangerous tasks, simply walking can be fatal if you happen to be in a hazardous area when you fall. It is very sad, but we could never expect to save all of them.”

Raz thought that ironic coming from her, but the consolation seemed to work on Compton whose blob uncurled in its seat.

Bob continued. “Helmut was in charge of the actual mental reconstructions, so I’ll let him report on the process we developed to achieve maximum restoration in minimum time.”

Helmut’s ball rolled across the table and parked next to Truman. It rocked there in silence for several long moments as the crew sat quietly staring at it.

Lili frowned. “Did the microphone break?”

“No,” Raz said. “ He’s using telepathy! We can’t hear him through the camera.”

“I hadn’t thought of that!” Lili said. “Maybe using this tech was a bad idea.”

“It’s a good idea, just not a perfect one,” Raz said. “Maybe there’s a way to add a psycho-receptor or something on it?”

She glared at him with half-lidded eyes. “Do you even know what a psycho-recepter is?”

“I know they use them in the comic books.”

“Yeah, because they’re comic books,” Lili said.

“Creative approach.” Truman’s voice drew their attention back to the monitor. “And it’s a good tactic. Could you two write an SandP tutorial for us so our other teams can use it?”

Bob watched his husband roll back to his seat and answered. “Sure, we can do that.”

“And Agent Zanotto…” Truman paused to clear his throat. “I agree with your assessment. Those numbers really are impressive. I’d like to… see you in my office after this meeting is over. In an official capacity. Assuming you’re interested.”

Bob crossed his arms. “I’ll think about it.”

“Right. Compton,” Truman said. “Any findings on that projected mind you encountered?”

“Not yet, but we will have better luck with the resources here at the Motherlobe,” Compton replied. “I can confirm that he was a Pyrokinetic with a blue flame manifestation, which sets him apart from the general population. We are using that criteria to narrow our search. We also know that he had additional Psychic support in his mindwalking and that their location was somewhere in either the northern or southern regions of the Western Hemisphere. I also believe they were using the Medium as a conduit for watching our recovery process. It will not surprise me if we find many of our tactics thwarted in this new fourth location.”

“I’ll send that ahead to Labria.” Truman said. “I’ve put Agent 33 in charge of the Algeria site so we’ll wait for word from her on how that’s going, but everyone here needs to be ready to spearhead another operation should additional bombs go off. We’re under the government’s magnifying glass, now. We’ve got a CIA agent on site who’ll be conducting his own investigation. I request you tell him the bland, fact-based, unembellished truth. He won’t understand half of it, but what he does record needs to be irrefutable. Bring receipts. Don’t mention Hornblower or the New Thinkers by name. We are blaming it on a “Psychic terrorist” and “escaped convicts.” Neither title is a lie, and the subterfuge leaves the possibility open that we’re still stumped about who’s bankrolling it. We have to assume that the New Thinkers are listening in on US Government intel. At least two elected officials are related to members of the club and there’s one I know personally who actually pays them dues, so treat this Mr. Webb with kid gloves.”

“Fantastic. That’s all we need,” Oleander groaned. “A spy in our spy agency.”

“We were fools to expect any less,” Otto agreed. “Big brother is always watching.”

“All the more reason to end this operation quickly,” Hollis said. “First step toward that is still finding Hornblower.”

“I thought you said there was Mentalist activity in the South American site,” Oleander grunted. “Why all this focus on the New Thinkers? Did they take responsibility?”

“No but we’re certain it’s them.”

Otto frowned. “Were you certain before or after we talked on the radio?”

“Sorry Otto, with China AND Russia involved in this one, I didn’t want to take any chances,” Truman said. “The Mentallists have run recruitment campaigns among the Psychic destitute in the regions near Azaroso before, but right now there’s more evidence this global aggression is from the New Thinkers.”

“So they still have locations all over the globe, then,” Bob said. “ In my day, they had something like thirty different little clubhouses for rich snobs. Have they gotten bigger in the last decade?”

“Our reports say fifty separate groups in thirty-five different countries,” Hollis replied. “New clubs open with every new generation. It’s a hereditary Psychic supremacy terrorist organization.”

“Oh wonderful,” Bob said. “How are we supposed to investigate fifty sites with our agents spread so thin?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Otto said. “Truman, it can’t be the Neenks. Aquato reported witnessing a Teleporthic-transference with a visible aura when on assignment with the Pelican. The only Teleporter in the New Thinkers who has that kind of specialty is Chablis Jeaune, and she’s still in custody.”

“Actually…” Truman activated the central display built into the conference table. The light-based projection was too much for the tiny rat-mounted camera to handle, the wall of text appeared as a white slab of nothing.

The obscured information sent Otto bolt upright from his chair. “You’re kidding!”

“I’m afraid not.”

“ANOTHER prison break?” Otto cried. “Are we amateurs? What in Hell have we done wrong here?”

“The Antarctica site was compromised at the exact same time as the Buxing attack,” Truman said. “We now believe Buxing was a diversionary tactic. They detonated two simultaneous Mind Bombs – one in Buxing and one in a plane over our Antarctica prison facility. The Mentalference from one masked the ripples of the other.”

“Oh no….” Milla put her hand to her mouth. “If only I had been in my meditation room, I could have sensed it.”

“If you were still at the Motherlobe then, you wouldn’t have been in Buxing,” Sasha said. “And the casualty count in both it and Fanrong would have been higher.”

“I suppose. I still feel I should have noticed.”

“I’m guessing they bombed Antarctica to get their teleporter back?” Oleander asked.

Truman nodded. “Every inmate and staff member were dementistrated instantly, allowing the New Thinkers to move in and recover the bodies of Jeaune and the five other Neenk members we arrested in Zurich.”

“The rest they just… left adrift,” Hollis said. “No one even knew the bomb happened until the shift change when our observation systems noted a lack of movement. By the time my team arrived to investigate, it was too late for the victims.”

“Your team?” Compton asked.

“Truman called me up off of vacation to spearhead the Antarctica investigation in an attempt to keep it as quiet as possible,” Hollis said. “Unfortunately, there wasn’t much we could do. Even though every inmate in the facility was Psychic, their minds had drifted too far for too long and could not be recovered. Six hours later, the Argentina bomb went off, so my team abandoned the prison and got to work there. It was a tremendous loss of life, and a blatant dismissal of the New Thinkers’ code of Psychics First, but it is what it is.”

“Did the Antarctica facility have a Psilirium security system like the Mongolian one did?” Bob asked.

“No, it wasn’t worth the cost,” Otto said. “Suppressive helmets, isolated cells, and solitary confinement were preferred. And honestly, if the inmates succeeded in staging a prison break, they’d be still stranded somewhere in Antarctica with nowhere to go but north.”

“So the Teleporter was in full control of her Psychic abilities when she was recovered,” Milla determined. “She didn’t have to wait for an incubation period to pass before teleporting Hornblower’s inmates directly into the cities they intended to harm.”

“So how do we stop them before they hurt someone else?” Compton asked. “Do we have a plan?”

“We have, actually,” Truman floated the projector’s remote control to Sasha. “Pelican team, you’re up.”

Sasha’s smear rose and called up something else bright and indistinguishable from the central display. “The breadth of this mission is undeniable, but I think we can all agree that the axis around which it turns is Hornblower, himself. As far as we know, he is the only one capable of turning a Psychic into a Psychic bomb, and as long as he is at large he can teach others the process of creating them, and create more himself.”

The slide advanced to what could have been a map of mainland China.

“While our team was operating in Asia, the Pelican crew was sent on a separate mission to acquire a duelist in case Hornblower evaded our initial sweep of the continent. This has unfortunately happened, so the Pelican project has now become a top priority. Here is a run-up of our progress so far.”

The central display changed again, conjuring more incomprehensible white squares that seemed to be photos.

“I’ll begin with a more complete dossier on our culprit. Grinsmith Forrut Horatio, codenamed Hornblower. Age forty-seven years. Geomastery affinity, Telekinesis specialty. Born in Cape Town, South Africa to British parents. Educated by the state, but did not advance past grade nine. Three arrests for petty crime and general violence before entering the region’s underground Psychic dueling rings at sixteen.”

The screen changed again. This time Raz could make out the familiar silhouette of the Lowha Lasung monastery cut into the white-topped Himalayan mountains.

“We believe he learned about the Lowha Lasung monastery through the duels, because that is where he went next. The dueling specialist we recovered there – a monk called Agrippa Pergola – has filled in this portion of the timeline for us. Horatio joined the monastery claiming that he was seeking a perfect ‘soul-temper’, a colloquial term for fortitude and mental focus, but time has proven the real goal was to master a rare sparring technique he’d encountered in the dueling circuit called Weaponkinesis. The monks have used this technique as a form of meditation for decades, but it was originally cultivated by their founder Lars Arcana as a means of proving his utility both in Psychic ability and social status. I have a video of a duel for us, I warn you there is blood.”

Harold’s camera did not pick up the video very well and did not pick up color at all, so Raz was spared the bloody part. What he did see was two rippling shapes surrounded by flying specks of dark static. A hulking figure that could have been Horatio stood to the right surrounded by a dozen orbiting projectiles. The figure opposite him spun and jumped as if he were in a kung-fu movie, his own rotating blobs sailing around to block attacks. The circle of weapons Horatio controlled expanded and contracted, lashing out in singles or pairs until the entire swarm flared up into an arch over his back and struck the other man with a punch full of blades. Those watching in the conference room recoiled.

Lili snickered. “I can’t wait to see this crazy duelist monk guy take the Hornblower down.I hope he cuts him into cubes.”

Raz frowned at her. “Sasha didn’t tell you – “

“Hush!” Lili leaned closer to the screen as Sasha closed down the video and raised a bullet-point list that, of course, Raz couldn’t read.

“This technique is tailor-fit for Hornblower’s strengths, not only in regard to his affinity for Geomastery that we’ve already discussed, but also because of his mental history. His psychoanalytic evaluations from school and prison make note of his ability to hyperfocus. His fellow monks describe him as a black-and-white, all-or-nothing perfectionist. This is why upon leaving the monastery. he re-entered the dueling circuit to continue proving himself the superior mind.”

Otto hummed in understanding. “A classic megalomaniac.”

“And a jealous one,” Sasha confirmed. “Weaponkinesis is regarded as a pure expression of Telekinetic proficiency – so much so that only Telekinesis is allowed on the field during a duel. The introduction of any other physical or mental abilities is a violation of the pre-established rules, causing the duel to become ‘tainted.’ Most legitimate duels end with the defeated member incapacitated, but every ‘tainted’ duel is guaranteed to result in at least one death if not two.”

“Two?” Oleander asked with a knowing lilt.

Sasha paused to glare at him. “The point of the duel is for the combatants to prove who is the most capable within the parameters of Telekinesis. Once other techniques enter the field, the hypothetical floodgates are opened as each combatant rises to meet the other’s challenge. A fighter shields, and shields become fair game. One Psi-Blasts, and Psi-Blasts are suddenly legal. All that matters is that one wins, and winning happens when the loser is incapacitated. Add two dozen spears propelled by panic and insult to that chaos and you have a bloodbath, especially with the duelist we’re currently hunting.”

Milla was fidgeting. Sasha remained as cool and clinical as ever as he turned to a slide of statistics with Horatio’s mugshot sneering from the edge. “As you can see, Hornblower was extremely deadly even before the Mind Bomb. After abandoning the Lowha Lasung monastery thirty years ago, he has literally destroyed the global Weaponkinesis dueling circuit. I mention all this not to bolster his reputation, which is more than well established, but to highlight the largest crack in his mental defenses. According to Pergola, Horatio is so hungry for a proper challenge that it borders on obsession. This fixation is his greatest strength and also his greatest weakness. We plan to capitalize on it thusly.”

He nodded to Milla who brushed the hair off her shoulder. She took his place at the console and brought up a flow chart.

“Step one, of course, is getting Hornblower out into the open.” She gestured to the screen, revealing an old warehouse building. “This is a former duelist arena. It was shut down years ago, but if we can bait Hornblower to meet us there with the promise of one of these Weaponkinesis duels, it puts us at an advantage. Once away from the protection of the New Thinkers, we can trap him long enough to apply a veneer construct to his mind. We will use a Psi-Portal to infiltrate his mindscape and uncover the locations of his remaining human bombs and also the trigger signal he has implanted in their minds to detonate them. Once we have the information, we can neutralize Hornblower and take him into custody.”

“That’s my cue!” Oleander barked. “See, I’ve been working on this laser – ”

“No lasers, Morry,” Hollis said quickly.

“But it’s the perfect opportunity!” Oleander said. “This Hornblower guy can shish kabob anyone in a twenty-foot radius. If I can get him in the crosshairs of my laser gun, I can take him out at half a mile!”

“No lasers,” Truman confirmed. “We’re taking him alive.”

“Why?” Otto asked. “After all he’s done, you’re really considering him a candidate for rehabilitation?”

“I don’t know what we’re considering, yet,” Truman said. “Regardless, we need to keep him alive in case we need more information about the creation - and more importantly, diffusement - of these human bombs.”

“Okay, I’ve been gone a while so let me see if I understand this so-called plan,” Bob said. “First we find Hornblower, then we get this duelist expert to face him so we can use one of Sasha’s mental constructs to trick him into giving us the keys to his megaweapon, then we round up all his goons, deprogram their heads, and hope the New Thinkers didn’t take notes on his exciting new bomb-making hypnosis skills while Hornblower was palling around with them.” He shook his head. “I dunno. Seems risky to me.”

“Especially considering the duelist we’re working with,” Otto agreed. “I spoke to Pergola briefly in Fanrong. He’s no fan of the Psychonauts. Not a fan of anything, really. No offense to the Pelican team, but should we really be pinning this entire mission on the hope this guy will enter a Psychic duel that’s nearly guaranteed to get him killed?”

“I’m afraid you misunderstand,” Truman said.

“Sasha will not be applying the mental construct,” Milla said with a faint tremble in her voice. “I will.”

Her partner took a deep breath. “And I’ll be fighting the duel.”

Lili went tense at Raz’s side. The crowd in the conference room stared, then exploded in a cacophony of questions and protests. Truman tried to get everyone in line, but there were too many demands. Sasha brought them to order by raising both hands. “Calm down, I’m well aware it isn’t ideal. The good news is that I don’t have to win it, I just have to occupy him long enough for the construct to be applied. Once we achieve that, the Psi-Portal will end the due automatically – hopefully before either of us come to harm.”

“This is madness, Sasha,” Otto snapped. “Have you no regard for the consequences? What could happen?”

“Is it pride?” Bob pressed. “You doing this for clout?”

“Not at all,” Sasha said. “The decision was made for me the minute we left Lowha Lasung. Pergola refuses to compromise his principles, and there’s not another duelist left on the planet to recruit. If time is truly of the essence, then the solution we’ve presented is the best one to stop this terrorist action from becoming a non-Psychic genocide.”

“But…” Hollis sounded confused and a little betrayed. “Hornblower has trained in this Weaponkinesis thing for decades. How could one of us – any of us – match that level of mastery after a couple lessons?”

“Why is a duel even necessary?” Compton asked. “Why can’t we tranquilize him on site and extract the information later?”

“We can and we will, but don’t forget that he’s a powerful Psychic,” Truman said. “It’ll take time to cut through his defenses, especially if we want to do it covertly. The last thing we want is for him to find out this is a Psychonauts trap and call in the New Thinkers or heaven forbid detonate himself as a bomb.”

Helmut bounced up onto the table.

Truman nodded to him. “We have to believe that he could. He crafted this Mind Bomb in order to implant it in others. It’s a construct like our constructs, just administered through hypnosis instead of mental projection. This is also why we are using the mental-construct route instead of neutralization and capture. If we apply a mental construct, Sasha can continue the duel inside of his mind while Milla looks for the information we need. As long as Hornblower is focused on the fight he won’t notice our activity and do something drastic.”

“And participating in a horrifically dangerous duel doesn’t count as drastic?” Bob prompted.

Truman steeled a bit. “We’re using every precaution.”

“And what about – Oh!” Bob stopped short as the ball beside him rolled forward.

Eyes turned to the brain as he inched toward Sasha and Milla. Raz grit his teeth, frustrated he couldn’t hear what was being said, but not nearly as frustrated as Lili whose fingers were tightening around the edges of the display. A flash of pyrokinesis turned one of Oleander’s notebooks to ashes and frightened Tonka off her perch. Raz jumped. “Hey!”

“Agggh!” Lili shoved him aside and kicked her way out of the store room. She tore down the hall at top speed, a ball of sparking rage Raz struggled to keep up with.

“Lili! Wait!”

He was on her heels when they reached the Nerve Center. The doors read her mind and opened. She slid through each set as soon as they were wide enough to permit her and burst into the top secret meeting before Helmut finished his speech.

“ – I know I’ve been out of the loop for a while now. Maybe you guys run the place differently, but I just had to say my piece – “

“You JERKS!” Lili skidded to a stop on Sasha and Milla’s side of the table and lobbed the handheld display at them with all her might. Aggression sent the gadget wide of its target. The superstars didn’t even flinch as it bounced off the table.

Oleander stood. “Hey, that’s mine!”

Lili cut him off with a roar. “Are you all KIDDING ME ABOUT THIS?”

“Lili!” Truman cried in alarm.

“Lili,” Milla cooed.

Lili jabbed her finger at them. “How can you two be so… so… So STUPID!”

“Lili!” Truman said, this time in a reprimand. “Control yourself.”

“No! I… I …” Lili’s anger bubbled into a nasal roar. She turned on her heel and ran back the way she had come, body-checking Raz as she passed him at the door.

“Lili!” Truman called again, but no one moved to follow her.

Raz slid a step back, knowing she needed him knowing it was the right thing to do, but stalled by the circle of Psychonauts in front of him. These were people who’d taken on the responsibility of saving the world simply because they had to - shrouded with concern. He locked eyes with Sasha across the table, but Sasha broke the gaze immediately, his concrete slab of confidence visibly cracking. The shade of doubt frightened Raz more than any of his previous worries.

Heart lodged in his throat, Raz jogged through the open door and followed Lili back into the Atrium.

Chapter Text

Lili stormed out of the Motherlobe and went straight to her garden. Raz took the most direct route through the quarry, levitating and jumping along the stones and fences scattered near the walls. He climbed the clinging vines up from the lake and found Lili hugging her knees in the bushes near the back. She was a Herbophonist who made a hobby of cultivating plants attuned to human emotion. Raz had no idea before he met her just how much plants could do. The garden around her was drinking up her distress like fresh water and shrouding her in dark leaves and a fresh patch of petunias.

Raz approached softly. “You okay?”

She wiped her eyes, embarrassed but resigned. Raz stopped a couple paces away and waited a long time for her to answer. She pulled her knees up to her chest. “You knew about this, right?”

“About Sasha dueling?”

“You tried to tell me in the closet,” she muttered into her crossed arms. “You knew the whole time.”

“Yeah, I knew…”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Lili said. “Why’d everyone let me believe that old guy in the basement was here for the fight?”

“Probably so they could tell everyone about it at once,” Raz said. “I didn’t think you’d be so upset about it.”

“Of course I am! Are you kidding?” She pivoted in her seat to face him. “I literally just got my Dad back after thinking I lost him, and now they’re doing it to me again! It’s not Dad but… but it’s one of us, you know? Part of our family? If this goes wrong, then Sasha will be gone just like THAT. And Milla? She won’t be the same again EVER. And nothing will be the same! Everything will be awful and we’ll spend every day thinking how we never should have let it happen… except it did happen, and we can’t change it even with all our gadgets, and knowledge, and our Psychic powers.We can’t put it back the way it was before this. Just like with Dad, now. We rescued him and ‘fixed’ him back to normal, but he’s not normal! He was overprotective before, but that was just with me. He’s scared now. He’s lying to everyone and worried about spies being everywhere.”

“He got betrayed by someone on senior staff. You can’t blame him for reacting – ”

“He never trusted Nick Johnsmith, not even once. And before you say it, yeah, I know that we beat him up. I know he’s in jail and he can’t hurt us. I also know that we got Dad back and he didn’t die. But…” her voice shook. The leaves around her trembled. “At night when I’m trying to sleep, I think about how close I was to losing him. If things had been different, he could have been permanently hurt. Another Lili in another parallel universe is back at Mom’s crying right now because Dad is dead. And that Lili could have been me so many different times. The Rhombus, Mailgula… and yes I KNOW we won all those times. I KNOW he’s not dead but he COULD be. He could be dead RIGHT NOW and that feels… that feels so bad.”

Raz sat down beside her. “It was really scary, yeah, but it all worked out.”

“I just don’t know why this keeps happening to us.”

“Because we’re Psychonauts, Lili. It’s what we signed up for.”

“I didn’t sign up for it,” she pouted. “It’s not fair.”

“Lili?” Truman Zanotto announced himself as he levitated into their midst. Lili balled tighter and pivoted away from him. Raz moved to stand but Truman bid him stay and knelt in front of his daughter. “Lili. Look at me.”

“Why?” Her anger was edged with a smothered sob. “Shouldn’t you be back at your meeting approving more stupid ideas to get people killed?”

“I know you’re upset, you don’t have to prove it to me,” he said. “Hollis is covering the meeting, but just so you know, the other agents are in favor of the Pelican team’s plan.”

“What? Why?” Lili’s eyes were red as she turned back. “Don’t they care?”

“Of course they care, but they care enough to support their friends and colleagues when they take on something difficult,” Truman said. “That scene you pitched just now, you’re acting like we’ve already lost. Do you really think Agent Nein would present a plan of action without thinking it through? Do you think Agent Vodello would approve it if there was no chance her partner would come back? Don’t you believe in them at all?”

“Of course I do! That’s why I’m so mad!” Lili bit down on her lip to keep it from trembling.

Raz had to do the same, as moved by the tortured look on her face as he was by the team’s approval. When Frazie brought up their mother’s pejorative names for Sasha and Milla, it made Gisu laugh as if getting close to their mentors was something the other Junior Agents didn’t experience. But Raz DID feel like Sasha and Milla were his work parents, and Lili did, too. Sasha and Milla, Hollis, Otto, the coach… they all helped Truman raise her at Psychonauts HQ. As worried as Raz was about his mentors, Lili was worried about her actual, all-the-time family, and that must have felt even worse.

Lili grunted. “Why are we the ones who have to fight this guy, anyway? He’s killing Non-Pychics, isn’t he? Make them take care of it.”

“How can we convince the rest of the world to trust us if we don’t step up when we’re needed?” Truman folded his hands on his raised knee as if it were the desk in his office. “We’ve been very fortunate for a long time. The last few years, groups like the New Thinkers have laid low and made mistakes. We’ve gotten ahead of them whenever they tried to act, and that’s kept them quiet. Our other missions have been small-time. Gimmick villains, Psychic troublemakers. They made good issues of True Psychic Tales magazine, but they weren’t at the level the Psychonauts used to deal with ten, fifteen years ago. It’s come at a cost – I’m sure you’ve heard Hollis complaining – but not having work was a sign of peace. The agents you idolize from the past? This is what they dealt with. It was more dangerous than the comics would have you believe.”

“But we just went through the mess with Gristol Malik,” Lili said. “We just saved you from being brain-napped! Shouldn’t we get a break or something?”

“We can’t control when or if things happen. Even Precogs can only look at possibilities, not choose them,” Truman shrugged. “Maybe Maligula and Hornblower are related somehow. Maybe the proximity of these incidents is just another coincidence. We won’t know anything for sure until we get more information, and it's our job is to investigate, find the truth, and stop these attacks from happening.”

Lili hung her head. “I wish NONE of this was happening.”

“I think we all of agree with that.” Truman pressed his lips tight and rose from his kneeling position. “Come on back inside, okay? You can ask Sasha and Milla all your questions. Maybe it’ll give you some peace of mind.”

“I don’t think it will,” she said, more defeated than indignant. “It still feels really bad.”

“I know it does.”

“I should probably apologize, though. I called everyone stupid.”

“I don’t think they took it personally. They could tell you were upset.”

“That doesn’t change that I did it.”

“I’ll go in with you,” Raz offered.

Her brow knit, but her eyes were grateful.

Truman pressed a finger to his temple and looked up. “Sounds like I’m needed. You two follow when you’re ready, alright.”

He nodded to Raz and floated away. Raz waited a beat for Lili to process. She drew a long shaky breath and exhaled a fraction of her anger. “Thanks for being here, Raz.”

“I’ll always be here,” he said. “And I’m scared too, if it helps. I was there when Sasha agreed to Pergola’s lessons. What he said in the meeting was the truth, Pergola refused to break his vow of pacifism. He was never going to fight for us, he even kicked us out. We were going to leave empty handed until I…” Adrenaline iced his nerves. In the monastery, when Pergola was being stubborn, Raz was the one who suggested he teach one of them to fight. Sasha didn’t go to Lowha Lasung planning to volunteer as a duelist, but he did know about Weaponkinesis, and he agreed to take on the responsibility.

Lili cocked her head. “Until you what?”

“Until I got him talking!” Raz swallowed a knot. “And we convinced him to teach one of us the technique so he didn’t have to get his hands dirty.”

“Coward.”

“He’s something, anyway.”

“Did he pick Sasha or did Sasha volunteer?”

“He volunteered. Pergola had us over a barrel.”

Lili studied the petunias. “I guess we are a lot safer with Sasha knowing Weaponkinesis than Oleander.”

Raz snorted. “You’re right about that.”

“Did you ask to learn it?”

“I did, but Sasha wouldn’t let me.”

“I’m glad he didn’t.” She reached out blindly and took his hand. “Can we take the long way back? So I can think more?”

Raz smiled. “Sure, Lili. Whatever you want.”

Chapter Text

Raz and Lili traversed the whole quarry before arriving back at the Motherlobe’s front door. Lili kept quiet, likely considering her words to the team when they finally made it back to the senior staff meeting, but after skating past Otto’s Lab, the GPC, Morris’s treehouse, and the goat island, the Nerve Center was empty. Lili blinked in distress. “Where’d everyone go?”

“Your uncle and your dad are upstairs,” Helmut’s thought waves answered. He rolled away from the Levitation tube in the wall where he’d apparently been waiting for his husband. ”Everybody else is at Sasha’s for a post-meeting meeting. Apparently that’s a thing they do.”

“Why aren’t you at the meeting?” Raz asked.

Helmut rocked in the brain-ball equivalent of averting his eyes. “Eeeehhhhhh I think I better stay here."

“Attention Mr. Fullbear,” Truman’s voice boomed through the loudspeaker.

Helmut bounced a foot off the ground in surprise.

The Grand Head sounded official. “Mr. Fullbear, please report to my office immediately.”

“Uhoh,” Helmut quivered. “I think I’m in trouble.”

“What would you be in trouble for?” Raz asked.

“I dunno, but a theater kid is never called into the principal’s office for a pat on the back.”

“Mr. Fullbear, now would be best,” Truman said again.

Helmut whizzed back to the tube. “Sorry, kids, gotta go.”

Raz looked at Lili who wore an even darker expression. Raz tried to smile. “Rodent recon, again?”

She paused. “I think we should check on the others.”

Raz tensed at her resigned tone, “Okay, Lili. Your call.”

She led the way out of the Nerve Center and up the branching ramp to the Agents’ department and Sasha’s office/laboratory. The door wasn’t locked and inside, surrounded by blinking lights, were Hollis, Otto, Compton, Milla, and Sasha. The first four were gathered in chairs around the exam table, poring over files and readouts in deep discussion. Sasha stood a few paces away studying the semicircle of cork boards with his arms crossed and a lit cigarette in one hand. A ballpoint pen orbited his head like a moon.

Raz jogged forward. “Hey! You’re doing it!”

“Hm?” Sasha turned. The pen’s center of rotation twisted with his head, giving it an odd halo effect. “I’m actually up to five at once. Not bad considering I only started practical application this morning.”

Four more pens floated out of the caddy on the cork board and joined the first’s revolutions. The whole solar system picked up speed as the satellite paths widened to make room for new members. Sasha concentrated more closely, nudging the new objects into equidistant rotation until all five were mapping separate spirals around his head and shoulders.

“My natural inclination is to merge them all onto the same path,” he continued more stiffly. “But simple circular movements are predictable and make for weak defense. My homework today is trying to get up to ten in perpetual motion on instinct alone. If I’m spending my conscious time thinking about where all the pieces are moving, I’m not paying attention to my opponent, and we certainly can’t have that.”

“No, no we can’t.” Raz deflated a little. The pause gave Lili a chance to step around him and approach Sasha with her eyes on the floor.

“Agent Nein? I, uh…” She threaded her fingers behind her back. Sasha waited, his expression neutral. The rotating pens stirred the smoke from his lit cigarette into a veil. Lili frowned so deep her face went red. She grunted, then growled out a long snarl and abandoned words altogether. She surged forward and hugged Sasha tight around the leg.

Raz’s heart skipped. Lili had hugged HIM before – she’d done it downstairs – but she wasn’t really the touchy-feely emotional gestures kind of person. Sasha wasn’t either, as far as Raz knew. He searched the agent for a reaction and found Sasha melted like butter as he stared down at her.

The cigarette joined the orbiting pens as Sasha reached down with his freed hand to pet the back of her head. Lili relaxed and snuggled against his hip. Two of the spinning pens collided at speed. One beaned Sasha in the back of the head and the other sailed in an arch over the exam table. Conversation stopped as the other agents watched it pink off the plexiglass wall.

“Ahem.” Hollis stopped talking and fixed Sasha with a glare. “Care to join the class, Agent Nein?”

“Sorry,” he said. The remaining projectiles tucked themselves back into their caddy. Sasha and Lili exchanged a look, the senior tilting his head to initiate a telepathic exchange Raz respected both of them too much to listen in on. The body language between them implied something along the lines of ‘we good?’ Lili nodded, and released his leg so that he could return to the table. .

“Thank you, darling.” Milla patted his arm as he stopped beside her. She regarded Raz and Lili with a smile. “Hello, children. Everything all right?”

“Hi, Milla,” Lili came to her side. Raz thought she was going to get a hug, too, but Lili stopped short, sounding more natural. “I’m sorry I yelled before. I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“Thank you, sweetie. We understand. Those were some big feelings you encountered. Do you feel better now?”

“Yeah, better.” Lili tugged a small smile. “Are you talking about the mission?”

“Attempting to,” Otto said. “There’s been some disagreement.”

“We were laying out our strategy going forward,” Hollis said. “It’s not an appropriate conversation for Junior Agents, but considering that scene you two just pulled, I assume you’d find a way to listen-in regardless.”

Raz shrugged. “Just practicing our spy game.”

“Cute.” Hollis plowed ahead. “Agent Boole? What were you saying about your lead?”

“It’s actually fortunate Agent Aquato is here for this, as he was a witness,” Compton said. “Razputin, will you tell Hollis what you saw when we contained the Medium in Fanrong.”

“You mean the Pyrokinetic?” Raz asked.

“Yes. If you would?”

Raz's Junior Psychonaut heart leaped. He steadied his composure and hopped into the chair Sasha wasn’t using. “Junior – ” his voice squeaked. He cleared his throat. “Junior Agents Natividad, Natividad, and I engaged the Wild Mind in combat. It was being controlled by an astrally-projected Pyrokinetic. His flame was blue instead of red like normal, which means he's got a unique skill!”

“It just means the fire is hotter,” Otto said. “He could train to do that.”

Raz’s professional act lost a bit of its pomp. “When Agent, I mean, Psychic Legend Cassie O'pia used her Mental Lasso to contain the Medium in her mind, the controller was left as an astral projection which gave us a chance to see what he looked like. A younger man with long hair. He was speaking something like French...”

“A young man?” Hollis asked. “How young?”

“Like twenty maybe?”

“A long-haired Pyrokinetic strong enough to resist Cassie's Lasso and hijack a Medium with a French accent…” Milla puzzled.

“And one who knew that Fanrong would have compromised Mediums to take advantage of,” Compton said. “As said before, I believe this intruder was using the Wild Mind on purpose to spy on us. I had the Natividad sisters search our incident reports and camera footage for evidence of this Willd Mind throughout the city. The Medium was definitely being puppeted, and the only way that could happen is if the Pyrokinetic was either projecting from a short distance or, as was proven by Agent Aquato’s in-field experience, he was being assisted by additional powerful Psychics bolstering his projective fortitude through mental transference. We can positively identify the use of the blue plume as early as twelve hours prior to the Medium's capture.”

“A twelve hour possession would turn even an Astral Projection specialist's mind to jelly,” Hollis said. “What's the most likely explanation?”

“Capture and re-capture,” Compton replied. “It’s likely this group has been taking turns occupying this Medium, possibly since the bomb went off. And it’s possible Fanrong was chosen as a location specifically because there was an active Medium there to use for this purpose. Agent Bidel Nost, the former agent whose town in Sibera was targeted for Hornblower’s first bomb detionation prior to his arrest, was also a Medium. That can’t be a coincidence.”

“You think they nuked a whole city just to spy on us?” Otto prompted. “Correction… they sprang Hornblower from prison so that he could use one of his special human Mind Bombs to nuke a city just to spy on us.”

“Our theory right now is that Hornblower was contracted as a Geomaster and Telekinetic to craft the Mind Bomb FOR the New Thinkers,” Milla reported. “Being arrested in Siberia did not cancel this contract. Once he’d perfected the Bomb, he broke out of prison – either with their help or on his own – and re-engaged his old employers. They have been the ones picking targets.”

“How did he know the New Thinkers even still wanted his bomb?” Raz asked. “His prison sentence was eighty years, wouldn’t they give up and write it off as a loss?”

“The New Thinkers are a secret society,” Sasha shared. “It’s generational. He was sentenced to eighty years, yes, but only served eight before he escaped. Regardless, even if he’d been in for longer there would likely still be someone at the chapter he’d been employed by who could resume the work, even if they were a generation removed.”

“Neenks are one of those old-money supremacy groups anyway,” Otto expounded. “Even if the CHAPTER he talked to had closed down, there’s installations of them all across the globe. It’s not unlikely that a weapon of this magnitude was proposed at one of their big annual conferences with leaders of multiple chapters allied together.”

“And all of them want to kill Non-Psychics?” Raz asked.

Milla looked downcast. “The motto of the New Thinkers is ‘New Minds New World.’ They were formed to ensure Psychics inherit the Earth. The Mentalists are similar, but act out of anger. They feel that being distrusted in society is a cause to lash out. Others, like the New Thinker chapter leaders that attend these annual or sem-annual chapter meetings, see the conflict of Psychic vs. Non-Psychic as a world war. Individual chapters often launch regional schemes, but the goal is always to eliminate Non-Psychics from the world so that only Psychics remain in power. Their latest attempt was thwarted three years ago, when the Psychonauts infiltrated the annual meeting in Zurich. They were preparing to launch a coordinated attack targeting Non-Psychic leaders in ten different countries. If we hadn’t intervened, I hate to think what might have happened.”

Lili gasped. “Is that from TPT issue 250? ‘Attack of the Mountainous Mind’?”

Otto groaned. “Those damned comic books…”

Hollis smirked at him. “Internally, we call it the Zurich Incident.”

“You’re right!” Raz exchanged excited glances with his girlfriend. “Sasha and Milla infiltrated a gala party under cover and stole the detonation device! So those were the New Thinkers?”

Milla nodded. “That’s right.”

Raz was buzzing with excitement. “Were they using Mind Bombs then, too?”

“Not quite,” Sasha answered. “They planned to smuggle Extra-Mental Pulse devices into the targeted capitol buildings and detonate them simultaneously. An EMP is similar to a Mind Bomb in that it would kill Non-Psychics by wiping their minds clean and allow Psychics to recover, but different in that the injury to Psychics is more extensive and the field of influence much smaller. Any Psychics in range of an EMP would require days or weeks of psychotherapy to return to normal function, often while in a medicated coma. Psychics generally heal from mental and physical injury more quickly than Non-Psychics, but brain injuries are just as permanent.”

Raz was aghast. “And Truman was planning to use one of these on Milla?”

Milla bristled. Raz ducked his head, flush with regret, but she smiled at him and gripped Sasha’s hand as it moved to her shoulder.

“The one we were going to use in Fanrong was of my own design,” Otto answered. “It’s smaller with a targeting function. We’d be safe on the other side of the office door, and Milla’d be awake again in a couple hours with a pretty massive headache. The ones the Neenks intended to use were primitive at best, they would have taken out a whole city block and knocked any Neenk nearby out for days. Sloppy at best.”

“That sounds like the time with Dr. Stortch,” Lili offered.

Compton nodded. “The case chronicled in True Psychic Tales Issue 46 was about the development of the FIRST Extra Mental Projector by Dr. Lyman Storch. We visited him to confiscate the device and possibly recruit the doctor to our agency, but there was an accident and he unfortunately did not survive.”

“That’s right, you were in that issue, weren’t you Agent Boole?” Raz asked. “The Dasterdly Dealer attacked and Dr. Storch ended up wiping his own mind to defeat him.”

“The Dasterdly Dealer was invented by the publishers,” Otto snorted. “In reality, Storch wiped his own mind with the device during an ill-fated demonstration, but that doesn’t make an exciting story for boys aged 12-18. At least we got a fun gadget out of it.”

“It is important to note that while the term ‘Mind Bomb’ did appear in that issue, that was ALSO an addition of the publishers. There has never been a technique called the ‘Mind Bomb’ like we’ve seen recently and Dr. Stortch’s invention functions differently than Hornblower’s attack,” Sasha continued. “From a broader perspective, the coordinated EMP plan that we foiled in Zurich and the situation we are seeing in the present share many similarities. The global aspect was a fear tactic then as it is now, and much like the Mind Bombs we are dealing with at present, the goal was to kill Non-Psychics and leave Psychics alive. It’s possible the intent was always to use Hornblower’s method, but was changed to the EMPs after his arrest.”

“Did they know Dr. Storch before he died?” Lili asked.

Compton shrugged. “There are a lot of New Thinkers, although they weren’t considered terrorists back then. More of a Psychic Men’s Club.”

Raz puzzled. “Then is it coincidence that they commissioned a ‘Mind Bob’ that works like the EMP, or do they read comics too?”

“That’s not out of the question,” Milla said. “While there were many older members in attendance at the Zurich conference, a majority of the leaders had turned their power over to the next generation, and those young Psychics were the perfect age to have grown up reading such magazines. The books are valuable for many reasons, including recruiting young Psychonauts, but we can't keep them out of the hands of bad actors as well, and they do contain plots to take over the world.”

Raz frowned. “Don’t the Psychonauts control True Psychic Tales?”

“No, darling. It is from an independent press, but we do have some leverage over the stories they run,” Milla said.

“They are only allowed to produce editorialized tales sampled from previously disclosed documentation.” Hollis clarified. “Any tips they get from letters or contributors must be sent to us for review before being released. The write-in story submission feature essentially turns the magazine’s readership into our very own trained-spotting team. And the magazine as a whole allows the public a chance to see the Psychonauts – and by extension all Psychics – doing good in the world.”

“Plus our corporate oversight also keeps state or agency secrets from escaping containment,” Sasha finished.

“And if anything does, we can slap them with the 2,846 unfiled copyright and likeness violations I've tallied so far.” Otto futzed with his glasses. “My portrayal in the second issue was particularly egregious.”

“They hadn’t found their creative footing yet,” Compton appealed.

“They had photos to reference. What they did was a choice.”

Raz gulped, thinking back over all the hand-written story submissions he'd mailed into TPT over the last couple years. He had no idea they were being scrubbed for targeting information. Hopefully no one took him too seriously. “Can we learn any more about the New Thinkers’ plans from the comic books?”

“We’d have to read a lot of issues,” Hollis said wearily. “Forgive me, but I don’t think that’s a good use of our time.”

“WE could do it!” Lili nearly cheered. “Raz and I have a huge knowledge of True Psychic Tales. And the Psychonauts keep a full catalog of the issues in the archives! We can screen them for possible leads and report back to the group!”

Milla hummed a laugh. “It could be useful research, Hollis.”

The Second Head shrugged. “Fine, what could it hurt? Junior Agent Zanotto, you’re in charge of the TPT Research project. Assemble a team and prepare a presentation for the next all-project meeting. I want a full report on any appearances of EMPs, Mind Bombs, or terrorist organizations that could relate to this event. Keep in mind, the publishers were instructed to change all names and identifying marks except the Psychonauts logos and the identities of the agents they’ve purchased likeness rights for, so it may be a bit of a hunt.”

“We can handle it, ma’am!” Raz said with a salute.

“Good, because we don’t have a lot of time,” Hollis said. “Which brings me to the reason I called an additional meeting. I’m declaring a Project Race.”

“Project… race?” Compton asked.

“I know the Pelican Team has worked really hard on Truman’s duelist plan, but I hate it. I hate the whole thing.”

Sasha steeled and crossed his arms. “Care to explain why?”

“Because Hornblower is a crazed murderer,” Hollis replied. “You’re a combat specialist, Sasha, I know. If this mission was about infiltrating a dueling ring, I’d be all-in. But this ‘tainting’ element? I hate it. You tainting it turns the whole thing into a brawl, but how do we know Hornblower’s pride won’t kick in once he’s losing and send him ballistic on you while YOU’RE still following the rules? Even in a controlled arena we can’t get close enough to him to dart or Door him, and using something like knockout gas or tear gas will just activate kill-mode before he falls down. No thanks, this is madness. I’d rather nuke him from space.”

Otto snorted. “Less work for all of us that way.”

“So this is my proposal,” she continued. “Team A and Team B. Team A is Truman’s original plan. Sasha keeps working all-in on the combat training. Milla keeps building the mental construct. Compton, keep doing your identity sweeps, but in addition I want you to try and locate Hornblower’s hideout. We have reason to believe that Hornblower’s human bombs are already distributed all over the world, but that doesn’t mean Hornblower, himself, is not holed up somewhere long-term. If Team A has finished their project by the time we find out where that is, we can bait him out to the dueling site without making a public display.”

“And if Team B wins?” Compton asked.

“We launch an assassination attempt.”

Raz gasped. The others went stoic. Otto coughed out a laugh. “Are you actually proposing Morry’s laser gun?”

Hollis’s face darkened. “If we have to…”

“Hollis,” Milla said, disapproving. “Assassination is not what the Psychonauts are for.”

“The minds of the world are at stake, here,” she doubled-down. “If we can eliminate this menace cleanly and quietly, perhaps that justifies the means. Especially with the assignment I’m giving you, Agent Mentallis.”

“Oh?”

“You’re captain of Team B. I want you to work on a neutralizer for Hornblower’s mind bomb. If the technique works ANYTHING like our known EMP technology, then perhaps there’s a technological way to counteract its effects. If we have a way to keep the human bombs from hurting other people, then we’ve bought ourselves time to track the bombs down individually using more traditional methods and dismantle their hypnotic conditioning over time instead of gathering information from Hornblower’s mind and apprehending them all at once.”

“So your alternative plan is to allow the undetonated bombs to stay at large in the hope that Hornblower’s elimination will also prevent them from firing,” Milla glanced at Sasha and wet her lips. “That’s quite a gamble, darling.”

“I personally won’t miss having him around,” Otto offered.

“Whether or not Hornblower deserves capital punishment is not the issue, at least not at the moment,” Compton said. “Don’t forget we have a CIA agent in our midst. Our multinational agreement to ‘do no harm’ is the only reason the Psychonauts weren’t dismantled after Grulovia. In spite of all the good PR we have done, the fact remains that the world at large is still afraid of Psychics. They know what we are capable of at a thought, and they have seen that power abused as recently as yesterday. If we turn the wrong card… if word got out that we were willing to take lethal force… we then change the way the leaders of the world think our organization operates. Not only will we be considered a Hornblower-level threat, ourselves, but a Hornblower-level threat with hundreds of employees, multiple off-site locations, a full fleet of vehicles, and a government-funded research and development department. They WILL end us, hopefully jail us, possibly kill us… and all for the same reasons you’re now willing to kill Horatio.”

Hollis glowered. It was easy to forget Compton used to be Grand Head, but now that he’d found his confidence again, Raz understood. Even Otto averted his eyes from the plans on the exam table. Raz pinged Lili telepathically. She poked him back with a bit of the nervous energy she was feeling as well.

“If we can guarantee the assassination doesn’t get back to us, we could pull it off,” Sasha offered.

Milla rounded on him in shock. “Sasha!”

“I’m just thinking logically,” he replied. “We are dealing with convicts and terrorist groups. It’s not out of the question that internal politics could see them turn on each other. If we could build a solid alibi around a scapegoat, we could do it. It would blur the line of ethics into a smear, but it’s possible as long as all evidence of our involvement is destroyed with them.”

“That will be my assignment then,” Hollis said. “I’ll work on our scapegoat. Maybe we could even pin it on the Mentalists. That would kill two birds with one stone.”

“Not literally, though,” Compton pressed. “Assassination is not becoming a regular thing around here.”

“No, our image will remain intact,” Hollis said. “Is everyone clear?”

“Clear enough for my portion, I suppose,” Milla said. “Although neither option is ideal, at least mental constructs and infiltration is something I know well. I’m not confident in this cover-up plan.”

“Nor am I,” Sasha said. “It’s an interesting puzzle, but I still prefer our original plan. In the A scenario, we risk the life of one agent who has volunteered for the job. In the B, we risk the future of the entire organization and welfare of Psychics worldwide. The cost-to-benefit ratio seems clear.”

“Seems clear to me, too,” Otto said, almost to himself. He raised his head. “I’ll take the challenge, Hollis. Your project race is on.”

“Excellent.”

“Are we invited post-meeting meeting?” Truman asked. He, Bob, and Helmut entered through the sliding double doors. “Is this something I should be worried about?”

“It was… supplemental,” Hollis said. “I’ll fill you in on the essentials.”

“Hey everybody, check it out!” The brain ball zoomed up, his fluids sloshing with excitement. “I’m official!”

Raz hopped down from his seat and leaned in. The tiny viking helmet floating in the juices had an even tinier little Psychonauts badge pinned to the side. Raz grinned. “You’re a full agent, now!”

“Heck yeah!” Helmut bounced. “Took forty years, but I finally sold out to ‘The Man.’ My father would be so proud.”

“You deserve it, Helmut.” Milla grinned. “No one exemplifies what the Psychonauts stand for more than you do.”

“Awww, if brains could blush.” Helmut turned a little circle.

“I’m assuming Agent Zanotto was reinstated alongside you?” Sasha asked.

“Yeah, well, it was easier than holding a grudge,” Bob replied.

“Their performance in Fanrong justified their acquisitions and promotions,” Truman said. “They’ve both been escalated to Senior Agent. I’ve given Helmut an executive position in the mental health department – he’s not a therapist, but his actions in Fanrong satisfy the field-work requirement of a Mental Navigation specialist, so he’ll be head of a special Internals department. Bob will specialize in field-systems management.”

“Although I’m going to work specifically on the Grulovia case first,” Bob said with a pointed nod at his bodiless husband. “You know, after this whole international crisis is dealt with.”

“Does that mean you’re getting an office and a lab and everything?” Lili asked.

He shrugged. “I’ve got a mailbox now, yeah.”

“That’s great!” She raised her hands in excitement. “Will you be focusing on Herbaphony? I’ve been cultivating some highly psychoactive plants in my garden! They’re really talkative. I could give you clippings if you want!”

“Oh, uh… yeah, sure I guess.”

“I’ll get some right now, before I forget.” Lili jogged back to the door. “Don’t start our project without me, Raz! Be right back, Uncle Bob!”

“Uh, okay.” Bob said but she was already out the door. He searched the faces of the group. “That was a change from earlier.”

“Her family is really important to her,” Raz said.

The Grand Head nodded. “So what was this about a project?”

“Lili and I have a research assignment!” Raz offered. “We’re going to review all the TPT back issues for relevant information.”

“That sounds like a good direction for you.” Truman raised his eyebrows to Hollis. “Anything else?”

“Nothing to alter our current course of action,” Hollis replied. “I just had a couple more questions.”

“Something we should discuss?”

“Later,” she said. “After I do some more research.”

“Fine.” Truman said. “Let’s all stop standing around. Get working on your assignments. I’m going to establish an all-project meeting every morning until this thing’s resolved. In-person if possible. 6AM.”

The group agreed.

“Your tutor is waiting for you down in the sparring arena,” Truman told Sasha.

“Tell him I’ll be right down.”

“I’m not telling him anything. He’s highly unpleasant.”

Sasha cut a smile. “Let me know if you want a turn throwing things at him.”

“I’ll pass.”

Milla and Sasha left together, followed by the rest until only Raz and Hollis remained. The Second Head stacked up her briefing papers. Raz rocked on his heels. “Agent Forscythe?”

“Agent Aquato.”

“I… uh…” He suddenly felt like he was in trouble. “Thank you for giving Lili and me an official assignment. We won’t let you down.”

“You better not. There’s lives on the line,” Hollis said. “Considering this is the second top secret meeting I’ve witnessed you barging in to, you might as well have a reason to be here.”

“To be fair, the one in here was supplemental.”

She paused her shuffling to narrow her eyes.

Raz went stiff. “Why wasn’t Coach Oleander invited to this meeting?”

“Because I couldn’t the stand the thought of his face when I suggested using his laser gun.”

“So you ARE using that?”

“I’m willing to explore other options.”

“Would it put all of the Psychonauts at risk like Agent Boole said?”

“Not if we do our jobs right.” Hollis set her jaw. “What are you really trying to ask, Razputin?”

His stomach clenched around the growing knot in his gut. “Everyone’s really worried about Sasha.”

Hollis’s heavily padded shoulders sagged a fraction. “Yes, they are.”

“The duel..” Raz said. “You don’t think he’s coming back.”

“We can’t afford to think like that right now,” Hollis replied. “Despite his aloof reputation, Sasha Nein is not immune to doubt. As for me, I think in contingencies. It’s the boss’s job to be ready if something goes wrong… and something ALWAYS goes wrong. That’s the hard truth.”

Raz swallowed again, mouth dry.

Hollis regarded him with a gentler tone. “If it makes you feel better, if this were a guaranteed suicide mission, none of my agents would be anywhere near it. I do believe he can do it, and he has my support, but my goal is not to shift the risk one way or the other, it is to put nobody at risk at all. Nobody except the terrorists, who will learn that the Psychonauts are a clever and powerful adversary who are stronger, quicker, more clever, and more capable than they give us credit for. If they think they can yank us around the globe, they’re mistaken. We’re going on the offensive, and we will not lose one single soul to their schemes.”

Raz rallied so hard he couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, ma’am!”

“And as for you, don’t forget the rule of positive mental energy,” Hollis said. “If you’re really worried about Sasha, send him positive thoughts, not negative ones. Even at a distance, It’ll help.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Hollis switched back to Second Head mode. “And stop spying on meetings.”

“I’m back!” Lili practically skipped into the lab with a towel-wrapped twig in her hand. “Where’s Uncle Bob?”

“He left just a minute ago,” Raz said.

“Then we can still catch them!” Lili grabbed Raz by the sleeve. “Hurry up, Raz!”

“Okay Lili!” Raz called as he was dragged. “Thanks Hollis!”

She nodded. “Dismissed, soldier.”

Chapter Text

When the Motherlobe was first erected, it was designed for five agents and supplemental staff. Twenty people at max. As Raz understood from Adam’s extensive historical research project, Sasha’s lab was once Otto’s, Milla’s meditation room belonged to Cassie, Compton was in the classroom, and Hollis’s office belonged to Bob. Ford, as founder and generally-assumed-to-be-sane head of the Psychonauts was named as Grand Head and given the space above the Nerve Center. As agents were added, so were new spaces. Compton took over for Ford as Grand Head and moved up, leaving his old office for someone else. Otto outgrew his indoor space and build his own shop in the quarry. Cassie split entirely. Additional office spaces were set in the lobes on either side of the Atrium, but they were only accessible by Levitation so when Non-Psychic staff were hired, they needed places for THEM. So they added basements.

Raz and Lili got off the elevator on Basement 1, just below the water level of the outside quarry. The space was treated with grand twentieth-century university styling with whitewashed walls, vertical lines, and arches over the doors. The ceiling near the circular elevator shaft was done at a slant with reinforced glass allowing an exterior view straight into the basin lake. Sunlight filtered through the water, giving the B1 lobby a dreamy cast broken by the shadow of fish and boats above. Someone’s styrofoam takeout container was wedged against the glass in the lower corner.

The rest of the basement was built into the quarry wall. Like the hangar bay, Geokinetics had excavated directly into the stone, weaving a branching network of paths below the earth’s surface. Whichever Psychonaut was the interior designer believed HEAVILY in theming with an obvious Brain motif. Arches crowned with brains in shields like family crests marked each of the five hallways branching off from the lobby with Latin labels underneath marking the core tenants of the Psychonauts. Raz couldn’t read Latin, but knew the tenants by heart: Broaden the Mind, Do no Harm, Forge a Frontier, Defend the Weak, Cover your Ass (the last one was more eloquent in Latin.)

Bob’s new office was down the Broaden the Mind hallway. Raz and Lili passed large portraits, landscapes, photos, and the office doors of other agents on their way. Raz recognized some names, but no one had their door open. Presumably they were busy working on the Hornblower assignment. At the end of the long hall was a levitube that took them up a half-floor to a more modern-looking sub-basement labeled Broaden Your Mind A – or as Raz thought it, ‘Broaden your mind, eh?’ The space was less collegiate than the floor below it with nine-foot ceilings instead of fourteen-foot and more contemporary looking furniture. He imagined it was added last among all the agent offices and looked a lot like the office Raz visited in Loboto’s mind. He wondered if Sasha had taken inspiration for his construct from there. Perhaps his office was down the same hallway before he was famous. Raz would have to ask.

The levitube had taken them closer to the surface, and Bob’s office was way at the end. It was a hike from the main lobby, but as the Thinkerprint door opened, Raz understood why this was the perfect place to put Bob. A huge solarium was built into the south wall where the edge of the Psychonaut subsystem met the slope on the back side of the hill the quarry was dug from. The windows matched the angle of the forest floor, making Raz feel a bit like a worm looking up from the dirt. Roots were visible through the glass panels in the dug-out walls. Bushes and tall grass cast shadows into the office where they curled over the panes. Sunlight flashed through the old-growth canopy high above where the chirps and calls of nature went on undisturbed.

The space was previously used by some kind of Psychonaut botanist. Earthy flower beds and hanging plants soaked sunlight through the window, but neglect had browned them all to curls and sticks. The couple that clung to life were already being treated by Bob who had a watering can in one hand and a trowel in the other.

“Lookin’ nice, Babe.” Helmut thought from the floor.

“Looks like work,” Bob replied.

“Feels nice, too!” Helmut rolled into the sun. “I want a dog bed over here.”

“We can do that.”

“Here you go, Uncle Bob!” Lili sang out. The two men turned as she pracned over to present her towel-wrapped clippings like a bouquet. “These are from my favorites! I know you’ll get them to grow really well down here.”

“Uh, thanks, Lili.” Bob took the bundle from her, almost nervously. “We uh… haven’t really gotten a chance to know each other before all this, have we? Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay, Dad told me you were having a hard time and were probably better off on your own,” Lili said. Raz bit the inside of his lip, knowing how not-correct that was. “He also told me you were a Herbophonist like I am! Dad has an affinity for plants, too, but he doesn’t listen to them talk as much as we do. I can’t wait to compare tips with you!”

“Uh… sure, I guess,” Bob said. “Come by any time.”

“How do you feel about all this, Agent Zanotto?” Raz ventured. “I know leaving the Psychonauts wasn’t something you… chose. Does coming back make that feel better?”

Bob grunted. One of the shriveled vines lifted a long tendril and carried Lili’s clippings to a sunlit tray of damp soil. “That was a pretty rocky stretch of my life. Coming back to work isn’t going to make it go away.”

“Will it make it worse?”

“We’ll see.” He regarded his husband-in-a-ball, who was already dozing in the sunlight. “I’m not aimless like I used to be. Got purpose back. We still have to get Helmuts body out of that frozen lake in Grulovia. That’s not going to be easy, and it’s still possible when we recover it, we’ll find out it’s unsalvageable and that thawing it out will do more damage than keeping it frozen.”

“What does that mean for Helmut?”

“He’ll be the way he is now forever… or at least until his brain finally dies of old age.”

“I hope that’s not the case,” Raz said.

“Me too. Having him back has changed the whole world for me. There’s joy in my life again. I gotta do everything I can to help him. I owe him that much and more.” Bob regarded Raz again, hands on hips, looking more like the man behind the desk in Fanrong than the sad hermit in the Gulch. “Truman offered to let me come back on the condition that I stop harmful behaviors and sign up for the organization’s mental health and wellness program. It wasn’t a hard choice, thanks to you. You got me a head start on both of those things, so it was easy to say yes. Will I stay with it after we get Helmut back? I don’t know. We’ll see how it goes. But, the Bob Zanotto who left the Psychonauts is not the same one who’s signed back up. It’s better I see what this Bob will do, instead of dwelling on the other one.”

“Want to see out the window, Uncle Helmut?” Lili asked. “I can lift you up.”

”Oooh! Yes, please!” Helmut bounced his ball back upright and rolled into her arms.

Bob cringed. “Careful!”

“Relax, Babe, I can still levitate a little.”

Lili boosted him up on one shoulder and rolled him onto her head for a look out the slanted glass ceiling. Raz could see ripples of Helmut’s rainbow-tinted mental signature beaming out, surveying the woods above them with waves of Clairvoyance.

“Did you see there was a hatch here, Uncle Bob?” Lili asked. “Looks like you can climb out and take samples if you want.”

“Good, it’s a long hike otherwise.”

“Isn’t that a security hazard?” Raz asked. “A door in and out of the Motherlobe without a Thinkerprint lock?”

“No more of a hazard than putting a whole-ass window back here,” Helmut said.

“Beides, It’s got a deadbolt,” Lili said. “Just don’t forget to lock up when you leave.”

“The levitube has a Thinkerprint, so no one’s getting too far. If someone wants to break in and steal plants, they’d have an easier time grabbing some on the way,” Bob replied. “And I really hate to break it to you, kids, but If an evil Psychic wanted into the Motherlobe, they wouldn’t really need a door to do it. Citing recent events.”

“Good news is everyone on staff has the ability to shoot lazers from their brains,” Helmut twisted in his tank. ”Thanks for the boost, Lils. You can set me back down.”

Lili levitated him back to the floor. “We should get going, too. We’ve got to get to the library.”

“Library?” Bob prompted. “You helping Compton?”

“We’re doing top-secret Psychic research!” Raz said. “Reading through all of True Psycchic Tales magazine for clues.”

“Ehh, I never took stock in those comic books,” Bob said. “They editorialize too much. And we never look right.”

“Hold up. We’re in comic books?” Helmut asked. “Am I in them?”

“You’re in at least one,” Raz shrugged.

“He’s in three,” Bob answered. “They were going to put him in a fourth but I veto’d it.”

“WHAAAAAT?” Helmut rolled backward in shock. “Babe, why?”

“They were going to put you in as a ghost,” Bob said. “I… I didn’t want to deal with that.”

“Was that issue #43, the Scepter of Lost Souls?” Lili asked.

Bob rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what it was called. I never looked at ‘em again.”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Raz said. “Come on, Lili.”

Helmut called after them as they jogged toward the door. “Let me know if you find the ghost one! I hope I’d be scary!” .

“We’ll let you know!” Raz called back. The office door slid open. Raz paused to catch a snip of conversation before it closed.

“So… You decide which of our children you’re moving here from the apartment?”

Bob gave a chuckle. “I’ll ask the garden for volunteers.”

The two Junior Psychonauts made the trek back to the B1 lobby and boarded the main elevator down to Basement 5 - The Archive Level. The interior decorator chose a Forest of Knowledge theme for that one. They were far too deep in the ground for natural sunlight, but the Psychonauts architects tried to compensate for it by installing even more planters with full-sized trees alongside the expected aquariums, aviaries, and water features. Images of books, numbers, and letters were tucked in every crevice from being woven in the tree bark to hidden in the flowers. The walls were treated with a reflective paint that filled the underground space with soft ambient light and decreased the claustrophobic feeling Raz expected from what was essentially a cavern.

Three department entrances peeked from among the trees like secretive grottos. The Records Glen had all the legal stuff like tax forms and accounting; the Archival Clearing held a collection of important objects and remnants that put storage room Raz was locked in on day one of his internship to shame; and Natural Resources, whose door was the biggest and grandest of all with vines weaving up the rough-hewn stone frame and in and out of the letters that composed the sign overhead. Lili shoved ahead of him through the Resources door like it was the only one there.

Most Agents called the Natural Resources room the ‘library’ because that was what it was – a supermassive collection of books and magazines from all corners of knowledge, not just the Psychonauts. The forest theme carried in from the lobby in the form of twenty-foot natural-wood shelves packed end to end with books. Even the walls were lined with built-ins and crowned with faux greenery to spare the collection from moisture contamination. The knotted wood was present in the furniture as well, giving the reading area at the front of the library a lodgy feel. Armchairs bound in leather or fur huddled around cozy lanterns. Broad tables made of thick slabs of tree trunk were ready for groups, and smaller desks with partitions waited for those needing privacy. The distant ceiling was a dome of clear glass, revealing the stalactite ceiling of a naturally occurring cavern. The glass protected the bookshelves below it from the drips, and also held the spherical light fixtures like a giant overhead ball pit.

Lili jogged up to the reception desk where a dark skinned woman with waxed black curls was stamping books with a repetitive ‘clunk.’ “Hello Lupe!”

The librarian paused and beamed at the Junior Agents. “Hello there, Lili. Hi there, little man. Knew I’d run back into you sooner or later.”

“Agent Alcaro!” Raz cried. “This is a bit of a step up from being a dance-party coat-check girl.”

“Coats, books, it’s all about the system,” Lupe said. “What can I help you with?”

“We’re here on a top secret Psychonauts mission,” Lili replied. “We need to check out all the issues of True Psychic Tales that you have.”

“Ooh! I see!” Lupe grinned. “You’re here for the sensitive stuff.”

“It really IS a top secret mission,” Raz assured her.

“Oh sure. I mean, aren’t they all?” Lupe picked up her keys. “Right this way, Junior Agents.”

Lupe led them into the narrow rows of hyper-tall bookcases. Raz marveled at the scale of them, glancing through gaps in the aisles to see Agents floating at different heights throughout the stacks, pulling books out with Telekinesis to carry back to the study area or read while midair.

Lupe noticed his awe. “It’s okay to be impressed, it’s only natural.”

“How many books do you have?” Raz asked.

“Many many many thousands. All meticulously organized and curated by Yours Truly,” Lupe batted her eyes. “You can be impressed by that, too if you like.”

“Is that why you were assigned to Agent Zanotto’s department in Fanrong?” Raz asked. “Your organizational skills?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“Did you ever think of being a field agent like that?”

“Me? A field agent? Noooooo,” Lupe snorted to herself. “Do you know how many things can go wrong on a field assignment? How unpredictable working with people can be? You know what doesn’t actively buck against an infinitely complex and intricate organizational system? Books. The most chaos I have to deal with on a daily basis is someone putting something back on the wrong shelf.”

“How could you even tell?”

“I know it’s hard to believe…” She lowered her black-rimmed glasses for a conspiratorial look. “I’m Psychic.”

Raz grinned. “You don’t say.”

They continued deeper into the stacks, following Lupe’s professional march through a zig-zag of letters and genres. After what felt like a city block, Lili grabbed Raz by the arm and braked them both to a stop. “Look!”

A trapezoidal man in a gray suit was studying a shelf at the end of the row. His feet were firmly on the ground, and his brow was furrowed as paged through the massive tome he balanced on one arm.

Raz gasped. “It’s the CIA guy! Mr. Webb!”

“What’s he doing down here?” Lili asked.

“Research by the look of it.”

“We should find out what he’s reading about.”

“But….” Raz nodded after Lupe speedily walking away from them.

Lili grunted. “Divide and conquer! I’ll go with Lupe, you spy on Webb. Find out what he’s up to. I bet it’s nothing good.”

“Right. I’ll meet you at the front desk.”

Lili jogged after their guide and Raz lowered his goggles. He didn’t use invisibility often – his stamina in it still wasn’t great, and any Psychic using Clairvoyance could spot him, anyway – but Mr. Webb was not Psychic and only a dozen feet away. As long as he didn’t sneeze, Raz could get a good look at the book in Webb’s hand and be out without anyone knowing.

Raz tucked out of view and cloaked himself and approached his target. He hadn’t noticed through Harold’s rat eyes how fit the broad-shouldered blonde was. Webb’s stiff, carapace-like gray suit was tight across the chest and upper arms. Maybe he’d been football player or a weightlifter before joining the CIA. Or a soldier. Or a secret service agent. Outside of the Motherlobe he would have been formidable, but in a place where all the heavy lifting was done with the mind, it made him look even more out of place. Raz ducked under his arm for a clear look at the book cover.

Psychic Affinities and Specialties - A guide to Terms and Classifications

Man, he was even more lost than Raz thought.

Webb frowned deeper as he flipped through the whisper-thin pages. He checked a note in his hand and shifted the book to find the appendices in back. A huge chunk of paper flopped onto the front cover. The book flipped out of his grip and right onto Raz’s invisible face.

“Ahh!” Webb cried.

“Mph,” Raz said. The surprise broke his concentration, revealing him in an instant. He floated the book off of his head with a scowl. “Watch where you throw stuff.”

“Oh, sorry little boy. I didn’t see you walk up.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Raz closed the textbook and made a show of returning it to Webb’s hand with Telekinesis. “For someone paid to be suspicious of everyone, you aren’t very observant.”

Web’s weak jaw set. “Let me guess? The girl at the desk told you who I was. I expected as much, but it’s put me at a disadvantage. Are you here for a school trip, or…?”

Raz crossed his arms. “I happen to be a Psyconaut Agent.”

“Are you, now?” Webb pulled out his little pocket notebook and flipped to a blank page. “And how old are you, young man?”

“I’m ten.”

“Ten is quite a bit younger than eighteen.” He jotted a note with a tiny half-pencil. “And do you attend school as an agent?”

Raz’s heart skipped. “Oh! Ah, yeah, I do. Of course! They teach us on site.”

“Us?” Webb made another note. “And how many children are employed by this agency?”

“We’re not really EMPLOYED employed. We’re more like… apprentices,” Raz said.

“Unpaid apprentices.” Webb jotted more notes. “And as apprentices you aren’t sent overseas are you? Involved in dangerous missions? Put in the way of any physical harm?”

The last three days flashed through Raz’s mind like a slide show. He was extra glad Webb was not Psychic. “Actually, as Special Agent Nein’s assistant, I was mostly printing out bank statistics and taking notes on meetings.”

“Hmm, I see.” Webb flipped through the notebook. “Agent Number Nine. Is that a serial number?”

“No, it’s his name.”

Webb paused and flipped forward to a different page. “Oh, right! The German guy. Psi-blast and combat specialist. Mastery in Telekinesis, Telepathy, Mental Construct.” He frowned again and checked the the table of contents at the front of his text book. “Mental Construct… Mental Construct…”

“It’s crafting scenes you can project into other people’s minds,” Raz told him. “We do a lot of Mental Navigating around here as therapy and resource gathering, and it’s easier when our subjects are living out a scenario that we are actors in. Like when you’re dreaming and you’re back in highschool and you’re only wearing your underwear. Everything seems really matter-of-fact while you’re in the story of the dream. It’s only after you wake up that you realize anything was off.”

Webb’s mouth drew tight in alarm. “You brainwash people?”

“It’s not brainwashing,” Raz insisted. “We don’t make them do anything they wouldn’t do otherwise, we just give them a scenario to play it out in.”

“So you could be making me imagine all this right now,” Webb said with narrowed eyes. “How do I know you’re really a precocious ten year-old and not some secret agent manipulating me?”

Raz pressed his lips to keep from smiling. “You don’t, actually. I could be a mental construct right now.”

Webb's massive shoulders squared. “And how would I know if you weren't?”

“You’ll just have to trust me,” Raz leaned in. “Of course if I am an illusion or manipulation, you can’t trust anything I’ve said at all. Not what I said about my identity. Not what I said about Mental Constructs. Not even anything in that book you’re holding. It could all be an illusion projected on your vulnerable Non-Psychic mind.”

Webb’s face tightened further. He slotted the book back to its place on the shelf and cleared his throat. “You never gave me your name.”

“My name’s the same as your name, Bert,” Raz said. “I’m all in your mind. And take it from me… don’t think too hard while you’re in here. Those pictures you saw in Agent Nein’s office? The ones with the exploded heads? Those were definitely real, and it could happen to you if you’re not very careful.”

“Ahh!” Webb flinched and backed into the shelf. “I… uh… I need to get some fresh air.”

“Okay, Bert, you do that.”

“Thanks for the… the heads-up, kid,” he said. “If you’re a figment of my imagination, you were really looking out. If you weren’t, I know it’s probably easy for an apprentice or whatever you are to feel threatened by having a government agent in your house. You could have easily let my brain explode, so I appreciate the warning.”

Raz’s grin faded. “Uh, no problem.”

Webb hurried up the aisle. Raz took a circuitous route the same direction, keeping an eye out for Lili and Lupe, but not finding them until he’d returned to the reading room and the front desk.

“There you are!” The librarian crossed her arms. “Good thing you’re a better Mental Navigator than you are an orienteer.”

“I got distracted.” Raz shrugged. “Did we get the comics?”

“Yeah! Look at them all!” Lili pointed to the pyramid of bankers’ boxes stacked on the desk. “They filled three whole shelves!”

“Normally I wouldn’t let a single patron check out hundreds of books at once, but Lili’s got an ‘in’ with the Grand Head so I waived the rules,” Lupe snickered a little. “You better bring them back, though! And No dog-ears!”

“You bet, Agent Alcaro!” Raz saluted. “There’s a lot of boxes to levitate… do you have like a cart or something?”

“Oh, these won’t be ready for a while. I have to scan all the barcodes.” Lupe lifted a laser gun. “Give me your face.”

Raz gulped but stepped forward. She beamed the red line over his head and got a ‘ping’ from her computer.

“Looks like this is your first time visiting us!” Lupe said. “Thinkerprint library card is now on file. These materials will be due in two weeks. If you turn them in late, your fee will be $240 dollars a day.”

“Yikes.”

“Can you deliver them up to the classroom in the Think Tank when you’re done scanning them?” Lili asked.

“Not a problem. I’ll have a runner send them up as soon as they’re ready.”

“Great! Thanks! C’mon, Raz,” Lili sped to the door.

Raz jogged to keep up and didn’t catch her until the elevator. “Where are we going now? Upstairs to wait?”

“Yeah well… I actually wanted to visit the training gym,” Lili said.

“And see Pergola teaching Weaponkinesis?”

“Yeah. And maybe have a little chat with him about not fighting the Hornblower himself,” Lili pouted. “Any idiot can see that he’s still the best candidate for the job. Teaching someone new with the world on the line is so stupid. I’d like to set his pants on fire.”

As much as Raz would have liked to see Agrippa Pergola vs. Lili Zanotto, his common sense knew better. “I don’t think he’s going to want to talk to you.”

“He talked to you.”

“Not willingly.”

“Yeah, well, he won’t have a choice this time, either.”

The elevator doors dinged and opened allowing them to step aboard. The car was empty. Lili waited for it to start moving before speaking again. “Okay, spill! What did you learn about the CIA guy?”

“He was reading about Psychic powers. The difference between affinities and specialties and masteries and stuff.”

“Anything to be worried about?”

“He’s keeping notes on us all,” Raz said. “And he’s really gullible.”

“Maybe we can use that to our advantage,” Lili said. “Spin his perspective. Maybe even use him to bolster Hollis’s alibi.”

Raz sucked his teeth. “I take it that means you’re rooting for Team B in the Project Race.”

“Aren’t you?”

“I mean, I don’t want the agency to get in trouble with the world governments,” Raz said. “But I don’t want anyone to get hurt either.”

“Except the Hornblower.”

“Yeah, maybe except him.”

“Maybe?” Lili cried.

“I just…” Raz hugged his arms. “My nona, you know? She did stuff that was just as bad and she was given a second chance. I can’t help thinking about what my family would be like if the Psychonauts had decided to kill her in Grulovia.”

“No offense to your grandma, but probably a lot better off.”

Raz’s whole body recoiled. Maybe she was right. If Ford hadn’t done what he did, it would have spared the whole family a lot of recent pain and turmoil. But then again, his dad would have been left at that orphanage where he could have been adopted by someone who lived in a whole different country. Then he wouldn’t have met Raz’s mom and he and his siblings wouldn’t exist! Not to mention all the happy years Raz remembered with Lucrecia Mux as Nona Aquato. It was hard to see the removal of his entire family as them being “better off” even considering the war crimes.

Lili read his face and pouted. “I’m sorry Raz. But the Hornblower is not your nona. Maligula lost control of her mind while trying to protect her home. Hornblower actually wants to kill the people he kills. He’s doing this on purpose. Who do you want to live more? Someone like that or someone we actually care about?”

Raz’s stomach flipped. The elevator doors dinged and opened onto Basement 4; the Health and Wellness floor.

“At least we can see what Team B’s competition’s looks like,” Lili said. “Let's take a look.”

Chapter Text

Raz wasn’t sure where “health and wellness” was located before the basement system was excavated. Knowing the Psychic Six, formal healthcare was probably just asking Ford for a tab of acid and a bandage, but more likely the clinic was either in the Bowling Alley, the Hair Salon, or both. He knew that the Hair Salon was installed specifically to occupy Ford’s wandering personality as his mental degradation worsened and being in charge of the mail room stopped holding his full attention. The Bowling Alley was likely built to meet the same goal, although Raz suspected it was Compton’s idea considering he was the one in charge at the time and he really liked bowling.

Upon the first major expansion – what Adam’s history project called the Basement Initiative – the top priority was giving the new agents a place to put their desks, the second was digging out a massive hangar for their government-funded heavy machinery, the third was storage of all the stuff they’d accumulated, and only after all that did they get around to housing physical and mental health in its own dedicated floor.

The B4 main lobby had a heavy Mount Olympus motif. Stone benches and planters enforced the Mediterranean theme with sandy colored floors and lion-headed drinking fountains. The walls were fully occupied by stylized reliefs of buff men in tiny togas performing feats of Psychic mastery. There was a Psi-blast guy, a Levitation guy, an Astral Projection guy… the Invisibility guy was carved INTO the wall instead of out of the wall, which was a nice touch. The lobby was even domed like a mountain with a chandelier that looked like a brain-shaped sun hanging at the summit. At floor-level, a fountain dripped water through a tower of nymphlike women holding clay pots. White scroll-topped columns supported triangular capstones above the three wings. Roman-style text was chiseled into each doorway; the Corpus Coliseum (a training gym) on the left, the Inner Sane-ctuary (Psychatric) on the right, and Medical, whose sign looked a lot newer than the rest.

Raz followed Lili off the elevator with a cough. “So did the Psychonauts do their own interior design or did they contract somebody?”

“You expect people who expand their minds for a living NOT to be creative?”

“Creative sure, but as a government-funded agency I expect a little restraint.”

“Okay, Circus boy.” She teased. “Race ‘ya to the Coliseum.”

The two took off at a run, dodging loiterers with duffel bags and one with an IV pole on wheels on their way through the columns to the exercise gym. The mythological influence took a more Egyptian direction inside. The columns had palm leaves and blue accented the gold stone in the walls. The original job of this space was for Psychic sparring and exhibition. The entrance was huge with roman centurion guardians crossing swords thirty feet above the grand entrance ornamented with more sculptures and trophies. A broadly-set receptionist with long black hair and a backward cap offered them a key from a line of hooks as they dashed past. Raz waved a 'no thank you,' and caught a glimpse of a hall full of private locker rooms just beyond his desk. Beyond him was the main workout room located in oval depression surrounded by five layers of bleachers like the set of some chariot movie. In spite of the lofty goals of the designer, the sparring floor was now covered in blue foam-padded vinyl, the marble floor had non-stick rugs on them, the elaborate sculptures were also towel racks, and the public bath had been walled off and turned into communal locker rooms. The gladiatorial arena itself, nobly intended for grand displays of gymnasial sport, now had free weights, climbing ropes, and a ballet barre. Agents and staff in Coliseum-provided gray sweats and headbands worked their bodies and their minds on the clanking equipment. Raz paused to watch one man lift two weights with his arms and a third with telekinesis before noticing Lili wasn’t done with their race. She dashed left through a an archway and a portion of the Coliseum with less grand intent. The Roman/Egyptian mashup was still present but subdued, almost if done against its will. Private exercise rooms for classes and specified sports were denoted by hieroglyphs and arrows directing people down different hallways. A map on the wall labeled a basketball court, a handball court, a tennis court, a swimming pool.

“Come on, Raz!” Lili’s voice echoed up the broadest hallway labeled with two figures in profile shooting Psi-blasts at each other. The Lowha Lasung monks were not the only Psychics who refined their mental skills through competition and combat. Psychic dueling rings were popular all over the world, and Psychic sparring was a common way to practice new skills. There were shooting ranges, and obstacle courses, and racks of props and tools to experiment with. There was even a space titled “burn room” listed under the image of a man on fire.

The grandest of the additional hallways led to the exhibition sparring ring, relocated from the entrance hall after the actual bloodsport arena found new purpose. Raz followed Lili’s voice around the corner where the hall fluted out into an observation deck. Theater-style seats descended the space toward a wide plexiglass window for safe viewing of Psychic combat below. In the middle was a box defined by a rails with a closed-circuit speaker system where the judges were meant to stand.

Milla Vodello was in it now, watching down into the sparring ring with her arms folded and her thumbnail in her teeth.

“Milla!” Lili skidded down the gentle slope past the seats and popped up at her side. “Came to watch too?”

“Hello, darlings!” She beheld Lili and Raz with her usual grace. “Have you started your research project?”

“Kind of. We wanted to see what was going on.” Raz slipped in beside her. “You look worried. Are Sasha and Pergola fighting?”

“Not yet, they are apparently still working on the basics..” Her tone gained edge as she turned back to the field. “I just wanted to see how this lauded new expert instructs the one of the most capable and accomplished Psychics of the modern world, that’s all.”

The teeth in her statement reminded Raz of Sasha’s black eye. He turned his attention to the ring. Unlike the gold grandeur of the gym, all sign of filigree or flourish was forgotten in the arena. The walls were white plaster and paint, the floor was foam padded in patched navy canvas, and the ceiling was set with deep-recessed can lights. There was a locker room door in each of the far corners with a single wooden bench stretched between them, but it was clear the seat wasn’t meant for seating watchers. Scars from duels past – burns, Psi-blasts, cracks, water stains – exposed the potential danger contained in the space. When two Psychics went at it, anything could result. No wonder the judges and spectators wanted to view from a distance.

Sasha and Pergola were sitting on the floor in the center. Pergola was the same crotchety old kook. He’d shed the business attire Otto gave him in Fanrong for the gray sweats provided by the gym. It suited him better, although Raz hated seeing the Psychonauts logo on his chest. Sasha was still in the suit and sweater ensemble he’d worn upstairs. It made tactical sense – he wasn’t going to fight Horatio in sweats – but felt right cosmically as well. He was the professional, Pergola was the interloper. Plus, Raz couldn’t really imagine Sasha Nein wearing anything with elastic cuffs and a drawstring waist.

The two each sat silently within individual swarms of flying projectiles. They juggled foam-padded batons instead of blades, much to Raz’s relief, but that didn’t make Pergola’s ability any less impressive. Over three-dozen objects whizzed about his center, stirring a fine cloud of his shimmering silver aura. The pieces danced in and out, marking variations on depth as well as height, path, and speed. The furthest of the projectiles skirted the ceiling, and the nearest almost clipped his knees. He was staring fixated at his student who controlled a more meager collection. Raz counted ten – so he’d hit his goal – but it looked like work to manage. Sasha sat with his elbows on his crossed legs and his fingers threaded under his glasses where he pressed deep into the hollows of his closed eyes.

Lili joined Raz at the window. “That’s Weaponkinesis?”

“Yeah,” Raz said. “Although at the monastery he used spears.”

“Spears? I can’t imagine thinking about that many spears at one time.”

“He’s been practicing it his whole life. That’s why he’s an expert.”

“Yeah, well, maybe he should use that skill for something good like saving the world.”

Pergola’s swarm shifted. One projectile splintered off and tossed itself across the space to join Sasha’s group. The Psychonaut laced it in blue energy and steered it into his web where its flock of brothers shifted into a new patterns to make room. There were some minor collisions, but they resolved themselves quickly. Pergola took advantage of the distraction and lobbed a follow-up baton straight into Sasha’s face.

Milla’s whole body was tense, but her partner merely scowled and floated the new baton up with the rest. Sasha’s voice spoke through the overhead speaker. “Was that necessary?”

“When you are in a fight, you can’t wait for your opponent to give you a warning.” Pergola replied.

“That may be true.” Sasha said with his last drop of patience, “but I am not in a fight. I am in a classroom.”

“Do you have time to be coddled?” Pergola replied. “It was my understanding back at the monastery that the fate of the world was at stake.”

“It is.”

“That you were willing to submit to my instruction.”

“I am.”

“Then I fail to see the issue here.”

“Fine. Let’s continue.” Sasha rolled his shoulders and fixed his posture. “I’m ready.”

The two resumed their previous positions. Pergola floated a thirteenth baton across the gap in a calmer fashion. Sasha’s scowl deepened as he took possession of the addition. The cloud around him scrambled to find a new pattern that could fit it. Batons struck the floor, him, and each other. Sasha slowed the rotation to compensate, sending a couple into wide orbit, but others ribboned out on their own opening Sasha’s center up for a second direct baton to the face.

”Ach!” Sasha’s collection dropped like a dozen stones as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I thought this discipline was about trust.”

“You suspect I am NOT teaching you the rules of my craft?” Pergola said. “That I am NOT trying to keep you alive in this duel? Perhaps I was mistaken, and I should not have sacrificed my entire way of life to come do this for you, and in reality you prefer to die on the floor with a hatchet in your face.”

“I am trying – ”

“Because that is what that last blow was,” Pergola pressed. “I killed you just now.”

Sasha fixed his posture, but Raz caught the slightest tremor in his shoulders as they squared. “Let’s try again.”

Milla tutted a short breath and swept away from the window. Raz spun in shock and followed her up the aisle. “You’re leaving?”

She was restrained but pleasant as always. “I have a lot of work still to do.”

“Yeah, but…” he gestured back to the window, but she didn’t follow with her eyes. Panic quickened his pulse. It felt like some kind of abandonment, although Raz wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like she was going to go down and rescue her partner from his own assignment… although glancing again, the look darkening her face suggested that if she stayed, she just might.

“We all have our roles to play on this mission,” Milla said. “What good will his part be if I don’t complete mine?” She brightened in a way that was most undoubtedly forced. “Would you mind joining me in my meditation room later? I could use your assistance.”

Raz’s heart fluttered, trading panic for thrill. “You want MY help?”

“But of course! I lost my chance to observe the Lowha Lasung monastery in person after Buxing. What better resource for recreating the environment than a real-life eye-witness?”

“You’re going to make the construct look like the monastery?”

“If I can believably, yes. That was the plan all along,” Milla said. “Come by when you can, won’t you? I’ll be waiting to get started.”

“Right!” Raz said. “I’ll be there.”

Milla waved a demure goodbye and floated up the hallway. It wasn’t until she was around the corner that his stomach dropped out. “Oh no!”

Lili came up behind him. “What’s wrong?”

“I just agreed to help Milla. I forgot about our research project!”

“Oh, Raz.” Lili shook her head and took a long glance over her shoulder at the observation window. “Tell you what. You go help Milla with the Mental Construct and I’ll round up the other Junior Psychonauts to help us with the research.”

“What about talking with Pergola?”

“I’ve just decided that that old bag of bones is not worth my time,” Lili said. “We need to get cracking on those comics if we’re going to win the Project Race.”

Raz cut a grin. “WE are in the Project Race, now?”

“Of course we are, duh! We’re the most important part!” She said. “Team A and Team B are working on solutions, but Team TPT is working on the stuff that makes all those things happen. Sasha and Milla need to know where to find Hornblower for this duel, if we get them the right clues they can take him by surprise.”

Raz eyed her. “So you’re not rooting for Team B anymore?”

“I’m rooting for Team Get this Overwith Fast,” Lili said. “I know what Sasha's like when he's working frustrated. He’s going to vent off a LOT of steam in this fight. And have you SEEN Milla mad? We pitch those two at him and the Hornblower’s gonna get ripped in half.”

“Wow. I wish I saw whatever you just saw in there.”

“The Weaponkinesis thing is still stupid, but they don’t have to stick with that the whole fight, right? Just use it to get his attention? After that, they can do like normal and kick major butt,” Lili said. “And besides, if we find clues about the EMPs or the Mind Bomb Otto wins either way! And we don’t have to risk Sasha or the rest of the agency because we’ll stop the bombs from going off at all! We can save everyone!”

Raz leapt to match her fighting spirit. That was the goal of the day – no one hurt and no one dying anywhere in the world. “Okay, Lili, let’s do it! You round up the others and I’ll join you in the classroom when I’m done helping Milla.”

“Yes, sir, Agent Aquato!” Lili shot him a sarcastic salute and skipped to the upper corner behind the seats where she kicked open a hidden OttoB.O.N. hatch and vanished from view.

Chapter Text

Milla’s meditation room was all soft shapes and round edges, humming with music and scented with perfume and incense. At the center was Milla’s seeing platform – an elevated dias with enhanced mental resonance to help her think more deeply and sense more broadly than her already incredible mind normally could. When Raz entered her chamber, she was hovering in its swell, her skirts billowing about her and the long sash of her wrap dress woven basketlike through her long hair. She smiled down. “Hello, darling. Thank you for coming.”

“My pleasure, Agent Vodello.” Raz tried not to look too excited. “I don’t know if I’ll be that helpful but I’ll do what I can.”

“Oh, darling, you’re essential!” She gestured to the space on the podium beside her. “Join me.”

Raz’s insides did a flip as he hopped onto the dias and bathed in the Psitanium-boosted thermals of her pedestal. He took a seat on the cushioned surface with his legs crossed and Milla floated down to sit beside him.

“So what do we do first?” Raz asked. “Do I describe the monastery and you imagine what it looks like?”

“I think it would be faster if we took a more hands-on approach.” Milla raised her hand, revealing her blue and cyan Psi-Portal floating above her palm.

Raz gaped. “You mean I get to help build it?”

“But of course!” She fit the tiny door to her forehead and tapped it open. Raz lowered his goggles and took a mental dive, tumbling back into Milla’s dance party mindscape with a little pop on the landing.

Milla was already standing in the middle of the club lobby in decor-matching tie-die. Although the loose minds and the coat check were all long gone, evidence was there. Footprints of the desk were still pressed into the carpet, drink stains marred the upholstery with splashes on the stylish wallpaper, and an upsetting black stain was etched onto the ceiling. Milla regarded them, embarrassed. “I’m afraid I’m still not fully recovered from our ordeal. I was tidying up a bit before you arrived, but stains keep popping up. It’s my own fault. Bob and Helmut did a good job cleaning up, but it’s the nature of any party to leave things a little disheveled.”

“Considering the crowd, I’m surprised it’s not worse,” Raz encouraged. He gestured to the bouncer statue with its arms folded across its chest. “Is the dance floor still there?”

“Oh no, it’s tucked back where it belongs,” Milla replied. “I have a series of different constructs on a rotation. The Levitation course you ran at camp is permanent, of course. It is the biggest.”

“So you just have pre-built rooms and things already set up?”

“A couple here and there,” she said, airly. “I pull out that dance hall when I have guests over. I have a nice little conversation room for when I’d rather sit and talk, and of course there are rooms just for myself.”

“What about…” Raz bit his lip, remembering the old crib and the cage of nightmares he wasn’t supposed to find in the middle of her Levitation course. Why hadn’t she buried that one like the extra dance hall? Milla cocked her head, waiting. Raz tried to choose careful words. “Memory vaults. Or secret rooms…”

She sobered.

He course-corrected in earnest. “Like the coach’s white room! Where he was keeping his death tank plans! Why didn’t he tuck that away where I couldn’t accidentally find it at the end of Basic Braining?”

“Because it was foremost on his mind, of course,” she answered without missing a beat. “The surface level is where our conscious mind thinks and feels. Even if he did tuck it deep into his memory, he was still actively thinking about it. It was only natural to have it rise to the top again.”

“How many layers does a mind have?”

“Minds are infinitely complex and always changing. Even as Psychics, the surface level is the only one we can really manipulate and control with our will. The rest of our minds – the deeper levels where our pasts, secrets, and demons all live – are beyond our control. To venture down there is to see truths even we don’t expect. It’s where intensive therapy happens, and where we learn about ourselves and each other. The only way to change what is in the deep recesses is to do the work of confronting and processing those parts of ourselves. You can’t fix yourself with paint and fancy decor, that is only a veneer. Who we really are lies deeper than even the Psychonaut themselves can venture.”

She turned serious. “And then again, some things don’t stay in those regions. Even with all our Psychic health and training, some events of our pasts will always be on our minds in one way or another. You can try to destroy them with technology, like Ford attempted with Otto’s Astralathe, but you’ve seen how that method only buried the thoughts. Generally it is better and healthier to accept that you’ve been changed by the experiences you’ve had, and allow it the space it needs to live quietly as a part of you, so that the rest of your mind can do its best to move on.”

Raz bowed his head. “I guess that makes sense.”

“We’re not going to worry about that today, though!” She tossed her hair and a brand new door with white trim appeared in the wall at the head of the lobby. “Are you ready to get started?”

Raz grinned. “Yes, ma’am!”

“Then let’s go!”

The two passed through the new door and into a plain white room. Their footsteps echoed off the perfectly straight walls and perfectly even floor and ceiling, creating a close wave that felt sterile and default. Definitely not standard Milla Vodello.

“So here’s our canvas,” Raz determined. “We are going to build the construct in here and then you can project the whole thing onto Horatio's mind like with hypnosis or something.”

“That’s correct.”

“So when Sasha put the office construct on Loboto’s mind, did he build that in a room like this and then push it on him in like, the minute he spent staring at him?”

“Oh no, the office construct is one we’ve used many times. He keeps it on hand in case we need a scenario in a hurry,” Milla replied. “An office is a situation people from all over the world are often familiar with, and the setting is capable of staging many types of scenes to get what we need. The ‘Employee of the Year’ award was a sequence of events we staged for Loboto in order to get the name of his boss, but we’ve used the same construct for public speaking scenarios, presentations, employee reviews…whatever situation will get the information we need from our subject. Sasha actually refers to it in his reports as Template B.”

“What’s Template A?”

“Template A is an interrogation room. Something like this.” Milla closed her eyes and pressed a finger to her temple. The room around them shifted. The walls closed in, the ceiling extended, a wooden table and four chairs popped from the floor as if spring-propelled and a single naked light bulb used its own cord as a bungee from the ceiling. Milla opened her eyes and beamed with approval. “It’s a quick easy construct he can cast onto someone in a blink if he has to.”

Raz poked at the new scene. The wood was as solid as real life. Moving the chairs stirred a thin layer of dust that swirled into the light of the bulb like fireflies. “Do you keep this in your head, too?”

“Oh no, I don’t have a collection of constructs like Sasha does,” Milla said. “I think more in sounds and colors and feelings. Holding on to a lot of preconstructed scenes in my mind isn’t natural for me, so it’s easier to build them fresh when I need them and let them go when I’m done. With my personal set dressing as an exception of course, a dance floor is no chore for me to keep thinking about.”

Raz rattled the chair on the far side of the table. One of the legs was too short… probably to keep the interrogated person off-kilter. “So you thought all this up just now?”

She hummed, amused. “It may not be my affinity, but it wasn’t terribly difficult to learn. Other agents like Sasha and Hollis are naturally visual thinkers. They’re good enough at concept perception and manifestation that they’ve earned a mastery in them. I’m no master, but I’m good enough to be dangerous at it.”

She winked. Raz grinned. “So anyone can learn?”

“Not necessarily anyone. Every Psychic has their own strengths and weaknesses,” Milla said. “We have no less than five Psychonauts on staff right now diagnosed with Aphantasia who are literally incapable of visualizing any impermanent concept in their head, let alone manifesting something out of pure imagination. In spite of that, they are still very capable Psychics who are excellent at their jobs. Agent 33 is one of those.”

“Thirty-three…” Raz pouted.

“She thinks in languages and words.” Milla continued. “I visited her mind once when she was being considered for senior status and she offered me a chair that was literally just the word “chair” spelled in black letters on a white field. A very interesting mind.”

Raz chewed the inside of his cheek. “She didn’t get senior status, though?”

“Not yet, but now that she’s in charge of this new recovery mission in Algeria, perhaps she’ll finally earn her wings!” Milla said. “I hope she does. She has such a unique perspective.”

“Uh… yeah…” Raz scratched the back of his head. “Do you think I could learn how to do constructs, too?”

“I don’t see why not. The best way to learn it is to give it a try! Let’s start now.” Milla clapped her hands once and the interrogation room furniture vanished. The room glowed bright enough for Raz to pull on his goggles. Squinting, he saw shadows twist and move through the glow until the room became a large, gray and brown building.

He and Milla were standing on the cracked pavement of an abandoned warehouse. Daylight slanted in from broken skylight panels, illuminating the trailing roots of weeds growing on the sagging roof overhead. A portion was blocked out in the center between two support beams where the cement was still crumbled but obviously fresher. Frayed ropes, rusted folding chairs, and a broken judge’s table betrayed it as a dueling arena, but two massive weapon racks on either side proved it to be a Weaponkinesis one. There were no weapons, thankfully, but the sight still gave Raz a start. He swallowed past his tongue. “This is a copy of the place you and Sasha are going to lure Horatio to?”

“Yes. It is located in eastern Europe. Horatio has fought here before, and it’s far enough from civilization that he may be willing to meet us there.”

“You’ve been there, too?”

“No, but I was able to build it fairly accurately from photos,” Milla said. “I did most of this on the plane home from China. It’s a rough build. A lot of the details are missing. Thankfully it’s run-down now, so I could dress it up a little. The tiny details are what give it verisimilitude.”

“Verita…?”

“The illusion of being real.”

“And I’m going to help with that?”

“Oh, no no! This part is mostly finished. I asked you here to help with the second part.”

“Second part?” Raz asked.

Milla closed her eyes and the warehouse warped around them. The skylight dimmed, the walls constricted and rounded, and the chairs and other trappings faded into empty stone walls.

“HERE is where I need your help,” Milla said. “The warehouse construct will be the landing zone. Once I have this successfully applied, I will place a Psi-Portal on Horatio’s head and Sasha and I will leap in and meet him here. Horatio’s subconscious will wake up in the warehouse and he and Sasha will continue their fight without realizing anything strange had happened to him. While he is distracted, I will shift the construct around him to the library of the monastery where he learned the technique.”

“Won’t that tip him off that he’s being manipulated?” Raz asked. “Would he assume Sasha was doing it and hack him to death?”

“The reason we are using the duel strategy at all is because of the focus it triggers in him,” Milla said. “On the outside, yes, it would distract him, but the version of Horatio we will be fighting in here is his subconscious mind. It is a waking dream, and he will be more accepting of the reality we impose on him so as long as Sasha keeps him distracted. If it happens gradually enough, it will seem as natural as breathing.”

Raz was still skeptical, but trusted that Milla knew what she was doing. “Why the library? Wouldn’t the great hall be better? That’s where Pergola tried to fight us.”

“The library is for my benefit, actually,” Milla said. “The goal of this is to extract information from Horatio. Where would he store his most valuable research and insight? Lowha Lasung is where he perfected his combat mastery, and the library is was where he studied his philosophy. You, yourself, saw him destroy one of his followers in order to recover a prized book from this library. The theory here is that by evoking this pivotal place in his psyche, his subconscious mind will fill in the gaps we leave with the information we want.”

“In… the books?”

“Yes.”

“So while Sasha is fighting the mental Horatio on one half of the library, you’ll be looking for books on the other half.”

“Exactly.”

“What if you can’t find what you need?”

“Thankfully, I am the master of this construct so I can manipulate the way it appears while I’m in here without it clawing on his mind,” Milla said. “I thoguht about programming in a prison cell construct in case this doesn’t work, but I fear recreating the Mongolian prison will trigger a compulsion for him to escape from it… and his last escape involved detonating a Mind Bomb. We don’t want that to happen again.”

Raz gasped. “You mean, he could blow himself up with you two inside?”

“It’s a risk, yes.”

“Would your heads explode?”

“No no no,” she laughed. “But his would, and we would be thrown clear with our mind-body tethers snapped the same as if we were in our own brains at the time. Thankfully our bodies will be near at hand, so we could Lasso ourselves back inside and keep from being stranded, but it would destroy all the knowledge we might hope to find in his brain. The secrets of the Mind Bomb, the trigger used to detonate his affected followers, the location of his gang and his New Thinker co-conspirators. All of that would be gone and the duel will be for nothing.”

“Can’t we just… find the New Thinker’s hideout and steal the notes for his Mind Bomb off his nightstand or something?”

“That’s what Compton is attempting with his assignment. Sasha and I are in charge of managing Horatio, but we have to consider the possibility that Horatio has taught the New Thinkers how to create more Mind Bombs, and we can’t allow such a weapon to stay in the hands of terrorists. If all goes well with this mission, we will end with Horatio in custody, the chapter of the New Thinker’s headquarters seized, and evidence of the Mind Bomb scrubbed from the world. Even the de-programmed convicts will have their memories altered. That way, nothing like Fanrong, Buxing, or Labria will ever happen again.”

“I like the sound of that,” Raz said.

Milla turned her attention back to the stone walls. “Remember, this is going to be a rough draft so it is not going to be perfect right away. There are a lot of details, large and small, that go into a proper Veneer Construct that I will have to spend time on after we’re done here together. What we are making right now is a framework to hang those things on. Now, tell me about the Lowha Lasung Monastery’s library.”

He frowned. “Well for one, it wasn’t a natural cave like this. It was a carved-out cave.”

She furrowed her brow and the walls changed to a more faceted texture.

“Better. And the ceiling was lower.”

It lowered.

“And the furnishings?” Milla asked.

Raz offered a plaintiff expression. “I don’t know if I could tell you exactly how it looked. I didn’t think I’d have to memorize it when I was in there.”

“It doesn’t have to be one-to-one,” Milla said. “Sasha said that Horatio stole an important book. What did that book shelf look like?”

“Um… it was wood. And it was old,” Raz said. “And dusty! Really super dusty.”

“Good! Now that you’ve told me, try to imagine it here in the middle of the room.”

Raz recalled the moment talking with Pergola, but it put a sour taste in his mouth. Instead, he remembered Sasha asking him to relive what he’d seen in Clairvoyance; the slanted stone floor, the old hand-made shelf, the leather books in tons of languages, Sasha reaching over Raz’s head to tap the blank space the book of Lars Arcana left in the dust.

“Once you have a picture of the shelf in your mind, try to project it outward, like an Astral Projection,” Milla coached. “Imagine it standing here with us in this space and place it there with your imagination.”

Raz concentrated on the bookshelf, but projecting an idea from his head was not the same as projecting a fist or a Lasso.

Milla’s voice sweetened. “If you’re struggling, try to use all of your senses in turn. How did it feel? How did it smell? The more specific details you can apply, the easier it will be to create it as a construct.”

Raz closed his eyes and zeroed in on the dustiness – the feel of it clinging to his fingers, the smell of it and how it stuck to the inside of his nose. The wood was old and dry with uneven fibers. He imagined running his finger across it and applied that feeling to the image. Opening his eyes again, he focused on the patch of carved stone in front of him. A version of the bookcase appeared out of nowhere with an exaggerated “pop.”

MIlla clapped her hands. “Wonderful darling! You're a natural!”

Raz poked his constructed bookshelf, beaming with pride. He’d gotten the feeling and the smell right, but the books were all wrong. He didn’t know what languages they were in or what they said, so they appeared as a bunch of scribbles. “I didn’t get the spines right.”

“That’s alright. That sort of information is what I hope Horatio brings into the construct himself,” Milla said. “The construct is a veneer, meaning it’s an overlay, but the foundation will be his natural mind. His psyche will integrate it into his mindscape as a means of staying sane and in doing so, bits of the man will intermingle. The trick to using a Mental Construct like this is giving his unconscious mind something to work with. What can you tell me about the rest of the space? Were all the bookshelves like this?”

“The ones in the middle of the room were,” Raz said. “The ones on the walls were carved into the stone.”

“Like this?” Milla spread her arm wide and compartments were depressed into the walls like the vaults of a catacomb. Books popped from the shadowed depths by the hundreds, all standing in neat lines with the proper amount of dust.

Raz had worked so hard for a bookshelf, and here Milla had a whole room full in a blink. He was excited for the day he could do the same thing. “The rock was more gray.”

Milla squinted and the hue shifted.

“There!” Raz said. “And there was a big table in the middle where a bunch of monks were studying.”

“A wooden table?”

“Yeah, like the shelf,” he said. “The edges were smooth where a lot of elbows touched it, and the chairs were stools.”

“Three legs or four?”

“Three legs!”

Milla's brow furrowed and the table burst from the floor.

Something was off. Raz puzzled. “Four legs.”

The stools hopped, sprouting extra limbs.

“The entrance was over here!” Raz oriented himself with the table and dashed to the proper spot. “It was round like a tunnel and extended up at an angle.”

The entrance appeared, the path extending like inflating a carnival balloon.

Raz dashed into it, his memory fishing more details. “There were some bits of wood in the floor for traction.” He pointed to where they belonged as he ran past and they popped into place. He pointed up. “The lights were little black metal lamps. Looked like they were made out of tin cans and burnt.”

They appeared.

“And this shelf!” Raz dashed back to the bookshelf he'd created at the start and grabbed hold of it with his mental fist. “It belonged over here. And it was bigger! And taller!”

He set the bookshelf down in the right place and it twitched and rippled until it fit his dimensions.

“There were tons of these in a line.” He marked the path with his finger as he ran up the “aisle.” Milla floated behind him, duplicating the shelf one after another. Raz traced out a dozen lines of bookshelves throughout the room; half running north-to-south, half running west-to-east. He returned to the entrance. “And there was a map rack right here.”

“A map rack?” Milla asked.

“Like a towel rack with maps?”

She conjured up a towel rack with paper maps folded over the horizontal rungs like decorative facecloths.

Raz grinned. “Perfect!”

“Phew!” Milla made a show of wiping her brow. “We've made great progress! Anything else important, darling?”

“Um… you said other senses,” he pondered. “The whole place was icy cold and it smelled really dirty. Like rock and mildew and lots of creaky old men.”

She barked a sudden laugh. “Creaky old men, you say? Alright.”

She concentrated, and the temperature dropped. The smells he suggested wafted through.

Raz wrinkled his nose. “Less corn chips, more old socks.” She hummed and it shifted until he could feel it on the back of his tongue. “Close enough.”

“Fabulous detail, darling,” Milla laughed again. “It would amuse you to know the “sock” smell as you call it is from the ladies’ Coliseum locker room. So it's not just creaky old men.”

“That's a relief I guess,” Raz grinned. “Not your locker though?”

“Never!” She hummed another laugh and floated off the floor. The ceiling rose with her, giving her more room to fly. “This is a marvelous start, darling. Thank you so much for your help.”

“Do you need anything else?”

“If I do, you'll be the first to know,” Milla said. “I may ask you to check my work when I'm done. Would you mind?”

“Anytime you need me!” Raz said. Milla's smile faded a little. He frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing at all, sweetie. Thank you again. I have a lot of behind-the-scenes work to do in here. Would you mind showing yourself out?” She gestured to the white door that still stood at the back of the construct. “You’re welcome to stay in the dance hall a while if you’d like to, although I’m sure you have your own project on your mind.”

Raz saluted. “Good luck, Agent Vodello!”

“Many thanks, darling!”

Raz slipped back to her dance party where color, music, perfume, and spotlights refreshed all his senses. The white door rolled up like a window-shade once he was through it, sealing the Mental Minx and all of their hard work inside. Raz took in the discarded paper cups and party plates piled on the tables. He pressed two fingers to his temples and blasted them to smithereens with a couple targeted shots. He dashed up and down the length of the lobby, dispelling trash and tidying up where he could. He surveyed his good work proudly and opened his smelling salts.

Both he and Milla had started floating while they were inside her mind. Raz opened his eyes and dropped back to his boots on the dias. He paused to reorient himself to the real world, staring up at the angelic shape hovering above him with her eyes closed. Even though she was in the same position she’d assumed during her Mind Storm, every other aspect of her was warm, gentle, and benevolent. He smiled just to watch her, although his conscience told him it was rude. Usually she could talk to him when she was like this, but he didn't want to bother her now that he knew she was busy. Besides, Lili was waiting in the classroom on the other side of the building. He waved a silent goodbye and hopped back down to earth.

Chapter Text

“Okay, listen up team!” Lili paced the front of the classroom like a general surveying her troops. “This is a research and recovery mission! Today we are attacking THIS” She swiped her stick of chalk at the wealth of library books stacked before them, “uncharted informational territory!”

“I can’t believe we’re spending all afternoon looking through all your stupid comic books,” Dion groaned in Raz’s direction. After Lili’s recruitment campaign, the research team consisted of Raz and Lili, the six Junior Agents at varying degrees of enthusiasm, and – to Raz’s distress – Frazie and Dion.

Raz glared at his older brother. “It’s important Psychonauts research.”

“It’s dumb kids stuff,” Dion insisted

Raz rolled his eyes and waited for a pause in Lili’s marching orders to shoot her a telepathic ping. “Why did you invite my family to this?”

“I didn’t,” Lili thought back. “Norma did.”

“Norma…” Raz panicked a moment, reliving the interrogation in the halls of the Fanrong general hospital. ”Why?”

“Don’t ask me. She told Frazie and Frazie told Dion. I don’t even know how they got in here.”.

“I know how.” Raz slid a covert glance at Gisu who was just as annoyed as he was. She flipped idly through the comic book in front of her, caring about the contents about as much as she did about removing his older siblings’ Thinkerprint access from the Motherlobe database.

“We have a lot of books to get through so listen up!” Lili continued. “We’re on the hunt for someone who looks like THIS MAN!”

She held up a picture Raz had drawn of Hornblower. It wasn’t a super-good likeness – Raz was more of a conceptual artist – but he did his best to include all the relevant features from the Mongolian prison footage. Wide, stocky body. Full, graying beard. Arms that could bend steel. “Public Enemy Number One! If you find anyone who looks like him, you mark it up here!”

Lili rapped the chalkboard behind her where a list of categories were set up in columns.

“We’re looking for any reference to these specific criteria. One! Appearances of the Hornblower or characters who look like Hornblower. Two! Villains that are in terrorist groups – the New Thinkers specifically but they may use different names. Three! References to Mind Bombs, EMPs, or any other mental explosives. Four! Pyrokinetics that have blue fire instead of red. Five! Places that are cold with trees”

“Cold with trees?” Morris asked. “That could be anywhere!”

“No, that could only be places that are cold and have trees!” Lili stomped her foot. “Pay attention!”

Dion raised his hand. “Is this really important enough to waste our time on? The last time I was involved in this weirdness people were actually dying.”

“This is VERY important to PREVENT people from dying,” Lili said. “And we needed this done yesterday, so get to reading!”

The crowd before her groaned. All except Raz. And Adam, of course. The taller boy floated an additional stack of books out of the boxes for each team member. “Come on, gang! This could be fun! We’ve all read these stories before, now we can do it with a brand new perspective as true honest-to-goodness Psychonauts. It’ll be extra thrilling.”

“Speak for yourself,” Lizzie huffed. “I haven’t read a comic book in my whole life.”

“You haven’t read ANY kind of book in your whole life,” Norma mocked.

“Read you like a book, smartypants,” Lizzie replied.

Frazie giggled. Norma stopped scowling to grin at her. “You know, all these comics depict real Psychic adventures by actual Psychonaut agents. They’re fictionalized for security reasons, but all of them actually happened in Psychonauts history.”

“Oh I know. Pooter’s obsessed with them,” Frazie snorted.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Gisu muttered.

Raz thought about the curated collection of issues he kept in his backpack at all times and pulled the strap just a little bit tighter. “They’re educational.”

“We’re not here to read them for fun,” Lili insisted. She floated a notepad and pencil to each person. “When you find something, make a note of the issue and story number on the chalkboard and write down notes about what you found there and how it fits. On our second pass, we’ll narrow down the analysis and write up a report.”

“SECOND pass?” Dion said. “Nevermind, I’m going home.”

“Figures you’d give up easy,” Gisu muttered under her breath.

He heard her, probably on purpose, and spun in her direction. “I didn’t give up. I decided what was worth my time and what wasn’t.”

“Oh did you, now?” Gisu deigned to look him in the face. “Like you have so many better things to do with your time.”

“I’ve got lots to do with my time! You don’t know one thing about me… not even one thing!” Dion knocked over his allotted pile of comics as he stormed out of the classroom. “Forget this!”

“Dion,” Frazie whined.

“I got him,” Raz said and saluted his girlfriend. “Continue your briefing!”

Raz followed Dion into the Think Tank lobby. The sun was setting over the Quarry through the large picture window. He had no idea it was getting so late.

“Dion!”

His older brother stopped withi a fierce glare as Raz caught up. “What?”

“Don’t leave mad,” Raz said. “We really could use your help.”

“Give me a break.”

“It’s true!”

“Can it, alright?” Dion spat. “I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”

“I never said you were stupid.”

“And I’m glad you’ve got all these new friends and whatever, but I’m not interested in this little project of yours. I know you think all those comic books are the real deal, but it’s propaganda, all of it. You can’t trust fortune-tellers, just like Mom always said. It was a fact before and it's a fact now.”

“How can you say that?” Raz pressed. “After what you saw yesterday, you really still think all Psychics can’t be trusted? Do you think the Psychonauts are risking all this just for fun?”

“It was a Psychic who did this!” Dion cried. “It was Psychics that killed half our family and manipulated and lied to us our entire lives! I’m not saying YOU are like that. You and Dad are still, like, people. And that Bob guy was cool, although his pet brain was kinda weird, but that doesn’t make every Psychic on the planet suddenly a hero and it doesn’t make the Psychonauts any less likely to stab you in the back. If you ask me, joining this weirdo club is a big mistake. It’s gonna get you all mind-wiped and I’m not going to be the one to say ‘I told you so’ when it happens.”

“Yeah you will.” Raz crossed his arms. “You’re always the first person to pretend they were right the whole time, but all that is just to cover up how embarrassed you are to have been wrong.”

Dion flushed bright pink. “You take that back!”

“Look, I’m sorry you and Gisu didn’t work out,” Raz said. “I tried to talk to her about it for you, but your issue’s with her, not with the Psychonauts. This mission really is life and death — ”

“Stay out of my business!” Dion snapped at him. “Don’t talk to me about missions and whatever. I’m not your mission. Get out of my life!”

“If you’re just gonna pout about it, maybe we don’t need your help anyway!” Raz countered. “The rest of us will save the world without you.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

Dion balled his fists and stormed back into the atrium of the Motherlobe. Raz took a breath to calm his nerves. Family drama was the last thing he needed weighing on him.

“Hey, Raz?”

Frazie was in the doorway. Raz sighed and traipsed over. “You going home, too?”

“No. I mean… not right now.” Frazie hugged herself around the elbow a lot like Raz usually did.

His heart softened. “Sorry.”

“You’re okay, it’s fine.” Frazie slouched. “I’ve been thinking a lot about the stuff we saw in that hospital. All the agents running around and using their psychic powers. Dion’s wrong about your new job. You really are trying to help people.”

“It’s why I wanted to join.” That and finding a place to belong. He was glad his parents were more cool about Psychics than they used to be, but Dion’s outburst was proof that home still wasn’t totally welcome. Raz was with his people, now, and he could actually be a hero to the world… and to kids like him who needed someone to look up to when everyone else in their lives were angry or afraid.

Frazie cut a lopsided smile. “I just wanted to tell you I get it.”

“Well, you know… you’ll get it even MORE after you read some more comics!” Raz said. “They’re super cool. And you’ve met a bunch of the characters already!”

Her smile widened. “Are Work Mom and Work Dad in it?”

“Yeah!”

“Is Beardy Boss in it?”

“Beardy Boss is in some of the best ones!”

A shuffling sounded from the office at the end of the hall. Hollis’s door was open. Raz noticed a chair overturned on the rug.

“What was – ?” Frazie started but Raz shushed her with a gesture and tiptoed closer. Frazie followed, leaning in over his head to listen around the jamb.

Beardy Boss was inside, talking with Hollis. Truman was looming over the Second Head, fuming hot enough to turn his face red. The chair he’d toppled lay behind him on the floor.

“An assassination attempt!?” Truman cried. “With a CIA agent on campus? Are you serious?”

Hollis remained seated with her fingers threated and her elbows on the arms of her office chair. “It’s just something I’m considering.”

“Don’t you know the ramifications if – ”

“Boole’s already given me the riot act,” Hollis said. “It’s a calculated risk.”

“Then you understand why it's out of the question,” Truman stated. “Look, I don't want to fight with you. I’m not even going to reprimand you - exploring all options is valid - it’s the fact you went behind my back that gets me. We could have discussed it…”

“After Antarctica I don’t think so,” Hollis said. “Your mind’s stretched far enough as it is. And in my defense, I was going to discuss it with you, I just took the steps in a different order.”

“I’m handling the situation.”

“You’re paranoid.”

“I’m being cautious,” he insisted. “The Psychonauts were too trusting before. We let a mole burrow straight into the heart of this organization and NO ONE was the wiser. We’re lucky I was the only one targeted. He could have murdered all of us in our sleep. There are still cracks in out structure. We can’t be too careful.”

“Yes, we can.” Hollis softened her voice and rose to meet his face. “Look, I learned a lesson too, in the last couple weeks. Overthinking makes us blind to our own faults. You’re putting on a brave face and I commend you for that, but you’ve been anxious ever since the Malik Incident. You’ve been keeping information from the team, playing things close to your chest, micromanaging everyone. Throwing agents into the grinder as a diversionary tactic.”

“I’m not having this argument again,” he said. “The hope was to capture Hornblower right away, but we didn’t. Now we’re doing this. And it’s going to work. All we need is to get Hornblower alone and we’ve got this.”

“I agree. Lure him out in the open and I’ll put him in a body bag.”

“I like her,” Frazie whispered.

Hollis continued. “You hatched this duel plan without consulting the group and it’s sketchy AT BEST, but by springing it on us how you did, you’ve put me in a position where I can’t speak out about it without setting it up to fail. You’re wasting our resources, Truman. You’re calculating the risk but you’re risking the wrong thing.”

“I’ve made the best logistic choice,” Truman said. “It’s my job to ensure the continued existence of this agency.”

“But you’re forgetting what this agency was created FOR,” Hollis insisted. “Helmut was right in that speech he just gave, the spy thing may be our job, but it’s not what we are.”

“It’s what we are now,” Truman retorted. “We’re Psychics, we have a responsibility to the world to police our own.”

She tutted. “We don’t owe the world squat. If anything, it’s the world that owes US. We should help where we can, yes, but we aren’t the world’s babysitter. Every violinist or airplane pilot or garbage man doesn’t take the responsibility for their entire subgroup on their shoulders. We do the jobs we’re hired for. We alert government leaders when we have to. We take action where we can, but we have our own priorities.”

“The safety of the world is not a priority?”

She sighed and lowered her voice. “I know what our job is. I know you’re under a lot of pressure. I just don’t want you to lose your humanity in the process here. Our tenants compel us to protect the weak, but it doesn’t say we are a military organization. You aren’t deploying some bit of technology, we’re talking about our own people risking their mentality, their health, their lives. Our responsibility is to them first.”

Truman hung his head. “I hear you. I know. I wish I could agree with you.”

“I wish you could, too.”

“We can discuss this more later. What I need now is trust.” He leaned in. “I need to be able to trust my team not to undermine me in the middle of a crisis situation.”

“Then show some trust in return,” Hollis replied. “Trust me to do my job.”

“To hatch plans behind my back?”

“To support you in ways you’re too busy to consider. To stay on message and help the world in the best way I know how.” She crossed her arms. “Do you know who does trust you? Nein and Vodello. They’re putting all their faith in your plan. Weigh the value of that, Truman, because when they’re gone, they’ll take a lot of people with them…. and if we lose one, we’re very likely losing them both.”

An alarm sounded on her desk. Hollis punched the button and sat to investigate the screen. “Another explosion.”

“What!?”

“Huge blast of mentalference on the southern coast of Australia.” Hollis said, typing furiously. “Malacquie city. 150,000 people.”

“Damn!” Truman grabbed the loudspeaker microphone off her desk. His voice echoed in the hall above Raz’s head. “Senior staff. Nerve Center. Now!”

Raz and Frazie jumped back as the two heads of the Psychonauts charged past them. Lili and the Junior Agents met the leaders at the classroom door.

Lili jogged out. “Dad?”

He raised a hand without pausing. “Stay here, Lili.”

“But – ”

“Work on your assignment, I’ll see you at home.”

The Junior Agents exchanged glances. Raz ran to Lili’s side. Her brow knit, but he didn’t need telepathy to know what she was thinking. He fit his goggles over his eyes. “I’ll go find Harold.”

Chapter Text

Psychorat instincts came through again. He found Harold under a bush near the Nerve Center, eating a plate of French fries like he’d been waiting for a while. Raz crouched down beside him. “You heard the overhead announcement, huh?”

Harold squeaked.

“Would you be my eyes and ears again, please? I won’t make you wear a vest this time.”

Harold nibbled through his potato wedge like a paper shredder and nodded his mousey head. Raz tucked himself behind a topiary and projected his mind onto Harold’s. He could still taste the salt from the rat’s snack as Harold wove through the plants to the Nerve Center door.

The senior staff appeared n a hurry; Bob and Helmut arrived on the elevator from downstairs, followed by Oleander with Tonka who Harold saw as a giant exclamation point with wings. Otto and Compton levitated up from the front door lobby one after the other, each carrying bundles of paper covered in separate collages of department-specific labels. Sasha and Milla were last, descending together from the Agents hall. Milla looked terribly sick – she must have still been in her meditation chamber when the Australia bomb went off. Raz recalled how she reacted on the Pelican during the Buxing blast; he couldn’t imagine what it felt like amplified by her dias. She floated in fits, holding tight to Sasha’s hand as he guided her down the ramp like a deflating balloon. He stopped in the beam of the Thinkerprint door and let her go in ahead of him. Harold took the opportunity to sprint in as well.

Hollis met Milla on the threshold. “You okay?”

“Where did it happen?” Milla mumbled. “I can tell it’s somewhere south…”

“Southern Australia near Tasmania,” Truman answered from the front of the room. He pounded his fist on the counter and brought up a map.

Oleander snorted and moved Tonka to perch atop his pointed hat. “Another day, another horrific act of mass terror.”

Truman grunted. “From what we can tell, it was a single detonator targeting the center of the city near a tourist district. They timed it for late afternoon when the dinner rush was starting. It’s safe to assume this was deliberate.”

“A tourist spot,” Bob said. “Not just maximum victims but maximum victimized countries.”

“News crews are already on site,” Truman said and punched a monitor, displaying live video of people slumped over in seats or collapsed in the road. Raz’s adrenaline spiked hard enough for Harold to catch an echo of hos panic. He chittered and Raz did his best to calm down.

“Local police are securing the area, but we need to get there right away,” Truman said.

“Do they have a local Psychic department like Africa?” Helmut asked.

Hollis pulled a face. “Kinda?”

“I’m not wasting any more of our time on preamble. I need a volunteer to head the task force,” Truman said and then thrust a finger at Sasha. “Not you!”

The agent raised his hands as if at gunpoint. His partner looked sicker than ever.

Truman rounded on the rest. “Otto? You good for another?”

“I… um…” Otto shuffled his papers and glanced at to Hollis, then Compton.

Truman grunted and tried again. “Bob?”

Bob flustered. “Uhh…”

“We just got back from the last one!” Helmut protested. “We haven’t even been to sleep yet!”

“I’ll go,” Hollis volunteered. “Bob and Helmut can come with me. We’ll use the same procedures we honed in Fanrong.”

“But what about the spies my team encountered?” Compton appealed. ‘Won’t they be looking for those procedures?”

“We don’t have time to mix it up,” Truman said.

“I can add a little spice,” Oleander said. He pointed to the bird. “Me and my new Aerial Surveillance Specialist can sweep from above. If they try the Medium-possession thing again, we’ll spot it. The Neenks won’t be expecting that!”

“What about personnel?” Bob asked. “Do we have the staff to get it done?”

“We’ll muster all we have here and conscript the Australian Department of Minds,” Truman said. “They’re mostly a research department, but they can be trained.”

Compton cringed. “Will that be enough?”

“It will have to be, otherwise we’re looking at thousands more dead,” Truman said. “Mr. Demarrow says the personnel carriers are still doing routine checks and fueling in the hangar. Dr. Blackwell has released most of the Fanrong team to active service, I’ll put a call out for volunteers and get them going as soon as we can. Demarrow says four hours minimum.”

“That’s too long,” Otto said. “Considering how long the flight alone is going to take, we need to be moving right now if we’re going to.”

“The Pelican’s ready to go,” Sasha offered. “It won’t carry many, but Hollis and the command staff can push the drive and make it there twice as fast as the Albatross.”

“Do it,” Truman said. “A quick aside – I’ve heard back from Thirty-three in Labria. Her talk with the ACPO has provided support for the recovery, but the work there is daunting. We’ll see in the morning how the numbers are. I can pull her out and send her team to Australia if I we to.”

“She won’t thank you for that,” Otto scoffed.

“I don’t need her thanks, I need her cooperation!” Truman leaned over the desk with a grimace of anger and urgency. “The world is at stake! Is everyone on the same page here?”

“We are on the same page, Truman,” Milla said. Her voice was weary and annoyed, which by contrast to her ‘normal’ sounded almost vicious. “You don’t have to shout at us.”

He flustered and, chastened, pulled back from the console. “I’m just making sure we’re all clear. If this falls apart, it could be the last mission the Psychonauts ever take. We’re going to get dismantled, either by international politics in a broad Pscyhic crackdown, or by the New Thinkers in a world-dominating genocide. Let’s pick the third option.”

Oleander’s mustache twitched. “Lasers?”

“No, Morry, not lasers,” Truman wheezed.

Otto whispered to the coach through the corner of his mouth. “Maybe lasers.”

Oleander cracked his knuckles. “Sweet.”

“Hello, Imaginary Boy.”

The voice in Raz’s ear startled him clean out of the bush. He lost his connection to Harold, and with it all the sights and sounds of the meeting. Instead, he was staring up at CIA Agent Webb.

The boxy man put his hands on his hips. “What you doin’ in the plants, son?”

“Oh, ah… nothing,” Raz stood up. “What are you doing in the plants?”

“I’m on the walk.”

“That’s plant-adjacent.”

“Uhuh.” Webb arched an eyebrow. “That was a clever little stunt you pulled down in the library. The receptionist at the front door said Mental Constructs were only used in official missions and that knowing you were in one would probably kick you out of it. Which means you were pulling my leg.”

“I wasn’t… I mean…” Raz bit the inside of his cheek. “I was teaching you a valuable lesson.”

“Lesson?”

“That… once you lose control of your own mind it’s hard to get it back?”

Webb crossed his arms. “Except I hadn’t lost control of my mind.”

“No.”

“And you just did that to scare me.”

“Better to make you scared when you’re sane than when you’re not,” Raz scrambled. “Trust me, I’ve seen inside the minds of people who HAVE lost control. They’re completely taken by their delusions. It gets to the point that they don’t even realize something is wrong with them, and I knew at one glance, you weren’t prepared for something like that. I could tell when I saw you reading that book.”

“Hm, that does make sense,” Webb said. “This is my first experience with Psychics. I can’t be too naive.”

“You’re absolutely right!”

“Which means I can’t buy your BS at face value.” He tugged his notebook and pencil out of his pocket. “What’s your name, little boy?”

“I… uh…”

“I’m going to find out sooner or later.”

“Mr. Webb?” Milla’s musical tone interrupted the interrogation. The senior agents were back in the Atrium – minus Truman and Hollis. Otto and Sasha were talking outside the Thinkerprint door. Milla spoke to Webb, but had her eye on Raz. “Is there a problem?”

“Oh, ah.” Webb flipped a new page in the notebook. “No problems, Ms. Vodello. Just doing my job. What was with that announcement I just heard about a senior staff meeting?”

“Another emergency abroad,” MIlla answered. “We are dispatching a response team now. In the meantime, I’ve compiled that list of names you requested, but I’m afraid many of the agents you wanted to speak to will be leaving soon. If you want to conduct a few emergency interviews, you will have to track them down and speak to them on your own.”

“That’s fine, ma’am. I’ll handle it.”

“Wonderful. Follow me to my office.”

Raz’s heart pounded in his throat. He took a step after them. “Milla?”

He wanted to make sure she was alright. After the trauma in Fanrong, she was finally acting normal. Now she was back to how she’d been before. Milla turned toward him, the answer he was looking for visible in her sunken eyes.

Raz averted his gaze and swallowed the knot in his throat. “Never mind.”

She and Webb took the ramp to the Agents hall. Raz stood on the walkway and waited for his heart to stop pounding. Otto called from the door. “Ah, Razputin. I’m not surprised to see you here.”

Raz grit his teeth. Did they sense he was watching the meeting or just guess that he was? It would be a safe assumption at this point. He decided to play dumb. “Is it another Mind Bomb?”

“Yes, and it brings us to eight,” Sasha said.

“They keep up this pace, they’re going to run out of convicts,” Otto snorted.

“That only proves they’re prepared to make more.” Sasha lit a cigarette. “We need to resolve this soon before it gets worse.”

“How much worse can it get?” Otto asked. “We’re already looking at the extinction of Non-Psychics and the end of the known world.”

Sasha smirked. “I dare you, take a moment and consider the number of nuclear power plants in the world versus the number of Psychics trained to run them.”

“Your imagination knows no bounds.”

Sasha peeled back his sleeve to check his wristwatch. “I better get downstairs. I have an appointment to get my nose broken.”

“You shouldn’t let him do that to you!” Raz interjected. Both men stared at him, stunned by the outburst. Raz reined himself in. “We watched you training earlier. He’s being mean to you on purpose! You shouldn’t let him get away with it.”

Sasha tugged a good-humored smile. “I appreciate your concern, but it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before. I’m sure you’ve noticed as an acrobatic performer that Psychics heal faster than Non-Psychics. I can handle a couple bruises in an effort to save the world.”

He was right, the one Milla spotted on his cheek that morning was barely visible anymore. The Aquatos had spent their whole lives balancing and tumbling and trapezing, and Raz never really noticed a difference between his ability to heal from cuts and bruises in comparison to the rest of his family. Of course the first thing his parents taught them was how to take a fall, and Donatella had no patience for excuses. The healing aspect definitely made sense about the stretching, though… stretching was the ripping and healing of tissue and he, Augustus, and Frazie were the most flexible of the group. Not that Frazie was PSYCHIC or anything. Sheesh.

Sasha dragged on his cigarette and nodded to Otto. “I’m off. Good luck with the neutralizer.”

“Luck is for the average man,” he said. "Come by later. Check on my progress.”

“I certainly will.”

“Sasha…” Raz started, but he was already at the elevator, leaving Raz even more unsettled. He looked up to Otto with a plea in his eyes. “We’re in trouble, aren’t we?”

“I wouldn’t worry,” Otto said. “We’ve been in the weeds like this before, it’s always worked out.”

“You mean it?”

“I mean, Helmut died for twenty years and he came back fine. Kind of. Lucy, too, in a way. Things equalize eventually.” Otto shrugged. “Besides, if this goes pear-shaped and the world ends, who’ll be around to blame us for it? It’s a no-lose scenario when you think about it like that.”

Raz gnawed on his lip. "... I guess?"

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have a Project Race to win.” Otto saluted. “Happy Researching, agent.”

He levitated down the central lift, leaving Raz to steep in his muddled and complicated thoughts. There was a rustle in the leaves. Harold scampered out from the topiary and picked another fry from his basket. Raz hooked his hands on his hips and sighed. “How about you? Think we're all doomed?”

He chittered a ratty reply and drilled through another wedge.

Chapter Text

Raz entered the classroom as nonchalantly as if he was returning from the bathroom. He pinged Lili to let her know he had news, but neglected to share it with the whole group. Best to see what the higher-ups were telling the agency at large before disseminating the secret knowledge. Except with Lili of course. Raz started dumping info to Lili Telepathically before even sitting down.

“Australia, huh?” Lili said. “That means there’s been a bomb on every southern continent. Do you think that’s a clue?”

“I dunno, it could be, I guess,” Raz thought back.

“I’ll add it to my case file and bring it up at the all-projects meeting tomorrow. I’m keeping a notebook full of ideas.” She continued pacing the chalkboard, but Raz noticed her composition notebook covertly fold itself open beside her bag. “If Hornblower and his friends are in the southern hemisphere that really narrows down the places your snowy tree scene could be located in.”

“Good thinking.”

Raz settled into one of the bean bag chairs in view of the chalkboard and summoned a bag of potato chips from a bin stolen straight out of the Noodle Bowl. The rest of the Junior Psychonauts were scattered around the room, hunting through loose piles of comic books while snarfing snacks and drinks like disaffected youths in a secret clubhouse. Lili got up between reading stories to make loud tick marks on the chalkboard and remind everyone to take notes. Only Adam appeared to be doing it. Raz watched her with pride. As much as Lili whined about the Psychonauts not living up to their legacy, his girlfriend was already a great project leader. He could imagine Special Agent Potato Masher manning a command center like Bob in Fanrong, or navigating a computer system like Hollis in the Lady Luctopus. He and Lili had already worked together as that kind of team in Gristol Malik’s mind, perhaps someday he’d be the man in the field doing dangerous missions and she’d be the voice in his headset keeping him alive and unlocking doors. Raz liked that idea. It felt possible. He settled deeper into his seat and started on his own stack of comic books.

Lili had given him the most important issues to look over – more proof of her managerial skills. At the top of the pile was Issue #250 - Attack of the Mountainous Mind. It was the one about Sasha and Milla infiltrating what he now knew was the New Thinker annual all-chapter meeting in Zurich, Switzerland. In real-life as well as in the book, the meeting was set up as a gala for wealthy aristocrats, but was also a cover for a secret society meeting going on in the basement. Sasha and Milla went in disguise as obscure foreign royalty, only to locate the secret bunker and prevent the simultaneous assassinations of every government leader in the world – of course in real life it was a series of EMP bombs embedded in key government centers. The comic also called the group the Thought Provokers instead of the New Thinkers. Raz thought changing the target gave the New Thinkers too much credit, he also thought the Thought Provokers was a way cooler name.

Lili was working on Issue #46 - The Great Mind Wipe of Professor Storch. In that one, the Extra Mental Projector was called the Mind Bomb for similar zest. In the comic, the Mind Bomb was a psychoactive machine not a Psychic technique and at the end of the story, the machine was destroyed when Dr. Storch overloaded it to defeat the villain. The meeting in Sasha’s lab taught them that a lot of that was fake, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t something to glean from it. The whole Mind Bomb thing was too much of a coincidence to write-off. Horatio had to have gotten the name from the comic if not the whole idea. Just like how he found out what town the retired agent in Siberia lived in when he went to stage his first Mind Bomb test. Horatio HAD to be a True Psychic Tales reader, that meant they weren’t only looking for clues to his past behavior, but they potentially could predict what ideas he’d have next! The idea energized Raz head to toe, and he pored through books with a juvenile delinquent Telekinetic’s perspective in mind.

Hours passed. Raz made a couple notes but didn’t find anything substantial. He was enjoying the chore, though. After discovering the Psychonauts existed, he’d read every issue of True Psychic Tales he could get his hands on, but that was a fraction of how many issues there actually were. Every book had twelve stories, and each story was a slice of real-life adventure from twenty years of Psychonauts history. Not all the Tales were useful. In #134 There was a story about a Psychic walrus in the zoo. Hornblower probably wouldn’t care about that one. In #156 there was one about an alien abduction, but it was a write-in story by a kid, so it wasn’t totally reliable. Raz was excited to read one about Telekinetic jugglers at a Renaissance Faire, but it turned out they were faking it, so not likely. Adam had a point about reading old stories anew, as well. One of the adventures in issue #424 felt super badass when Raz was reading it at the circus, but after becoming a Psychonaut it read more like a typical day at Whispering Rock. The more in-depth stories branched multiple issues, like the introduction and eventual defeat of Psychic supervillain The Frontal Lobe which took a whole year of issues between his intro and his exit. Nothing spoke to Raz in his new Hornblower Mindset, although his inner fanboy mindset was thrilled by every page.

“I found some trees!” Sam called from one of the beds on the far side of the classroom.

“Are they on a mountain?” Lili called back.

“No, but they’re pine trees!”

“If they’re not on a snowy mountain it doesn’t count,” Lili said. “Keep looking.”

“Geez, okay Bossy,” Sam muttered.

Norma cleared her throat. “I actually have an issue with your categories. There are far too many stories to make a note of every example of some of these things. Every instance of psychic dueling? That happens at least once an issue. It doesn’t pare anything down.”

“I’m not asking for every time two Psychics fight each other, I’m asking for formal Psychic duels,” Lili said. “Tournaments and fight clubs and stuff.”

“Well, then you should have said that,” Norma said. “Now I’m going to have to start over.”

“Don’t bother,” Gisu pouted. “This whole project is just busywork to keep Raz and Lili from being nosy.”

Raz sat up. “No it’s not!”

Lili smirked. “Just ignore her.”

Frazie shrugged from the couch beside Norma. “I’ve never read any of these before. They’re kinda fun? Maybe?”

“It’s like watching paint dry,” Lizzie said from her other side. “Give me a Wild Mind any day.”

“I found one in #35!” Morris offered. “Trade ya?”

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “Yeah sure.”

The books floated past each other over Raz’s head as he took another handful of popcorn from the fresh bowl he and Lili were sharing with Harold. Above them, Adam was absolutely in his element, picking meticulously through his stack of comics and writing paragraphs in his notebook. He bolted to his feet. “I found him!”

“Found who?” Lili asked.

“Hornblower!” He hopped into the study space under the steps and directed Lili and Raz to the center panel on the page. “Here!”

The whole team gathered to peer over his shoulder. The panel displayed a crowd scene full of rough-looking Psychics fighters. A dozen angry men and women displayed their favorite fighting styles in their different signature colors. In the back near the edge was a squat man in a tracksuit with the mutton chops Horatio wore before going to prison. A couple of nail bats floated over his head in an amber-brown sheen.

“That’s how you drew him, right?” Adam asked Raz.

“It’s just a background guy,” Norma said. “Set dressing at best.”

“But he’s using Weaponkinesis,” Adam insisted.

Norma adjusted her glasses. “TELEkinesis. Anyone can float a bat. You don’t need to be a specialist.”

“Well, I think it’s him,” Frazie said.

Norma went stiff and changed her tone. “I guess it’s equally likely to be him as it is not to be him.”

“If it is him, that means he was present where and when this story took place!” Raz said. “What’s this issue about?”

“Psychic dueling,” Adam said. “That’s why I picked it up. It’s about a ranked fight club in Central America.”

Raz inspected the panel closer. It wasn’t taking place in the warehouse Milla constructed in her mind. This one was in a stone ruin in some kind of jungle environment. He flipped deeper into the story. “Which Psychonauts are in this one?”

“Just Truman,” Adam said. “It was when he was a field agent when Agent Boole was Grand Head. He’s investigating the ring to make contact with one of the other duelists. Her.”

Adam reached across Raz and tapped the image of a young woman with a shaved head and a nasty scar on her shoulder. A large stone floated above her head laced in black mental energy.

“Ooh! She’s punk,” Frazie said. “What’s her name?”

“Rosetta Stone, same name as the story,” Adam said. “She does Geokinesis.”

“Didn’t you say Hornblower did Geokinesis?” Morris asked.

“Geomancy, not Geokinesis,” Lili replied. “One’s rocks, the other’s math.”

Morris frowned. “Why do they sound so much the same?”

“Beats me. I’d have called it Numbermancy,” Lili said.

Raz paged backward and found a fight between Rosetta Stone and a young Truman. The Psychonaut used Psi-blasts and Telekinesis to turn the teen’s stone projectiles against her. She was forcing the floor below him to break, but Truman was already floating above it. Raz whistled. “Look at him go.”

“Grand Head Zanotto is one of the greatest Psychonauts in the history of the organization,” Adam stated. “He took solo missions no one else in the organization was willing to take, and when he partnered up with Hollis or Sasha? Dynamite!”

“You’re just saying that because he was your mentor,” Lili scoffed. “Dad’s not some supercool action hero, he’s a lame dad like anyone else’s. Besides, he told me the fight in this comic was fake. He actually just talked to her.”

Raz frowned. “So he didn’t go to this dueling ring?”

“He went, but he didn’t fight in it,” Lili said. “The whole point of the mission was to shut the thing down. It was a front for drug activity.”

His heart sank. “So he probably didn’t meet Hornblower, then.”

“Maybe not, but if Hornblower is in this picture, he had to have been there.” Adam insisted. “Maybe Truman provided a description of the fighters he encountered when they went to write the issue, not even knowing who Hornblower was. Either way, it can’t be a coincidence that he’s in the comic. Maybe some of the New Thinkers are in this panel, too. We should look for them in the other issues.”

“Raz, can you draw bigger pictures of these duelists?” Lili asked. “I can put them on the wall next to the Hornblower.”

Raz really wanted to keep reading, but grabbed fresh paper instead. “Sure, Lili.”

The crew returned to their books with slightly more vigor. After ten minutes, Morris piped up. “I’ve got another story about the Thought Provokers in this one. It might be too old though. Looks like Ford is in it.”

Frazie wrinkled her nose. “Does he make the problem worse? Like usual?”

Raz bristled. Ford caused the Aquatos a lot of pain, but he was still the greatest leader the Psychonauts ever had and technically Raz’s first mentor - Raz wouldn’t have gotten to do Sasha’s advanced training without Ford’s signature, after all. “The New Thinkers have lasted generations, so I’m sure Ford has met them. What are the New Thinkers doing in the book?”

Morris flipped the pages. “Trying to kill all Non-Psychics, again. That’s their main schtick, it seems. This one appears to be their origin story.”

He handed the comic to Raz who gave the story a look. The first page was a single panel of a group of cloak-clad old men standing in a circle holding candles. Above them on the wall was the symbol of a hammer made of a brain on a stick. Frazie popped up behind him but dismissed the image with an eye roll. “What are they? A cult?”

“Pretty much,” Morris said. “Ford is infiltrating their club in order to expose the leader’s identity. At this point, they’re a mysterious group that claims to be the true leaders of the world. There’s a whole speech at the end when the leader’s hood comes off about how Non-Psychics are an inferior species hitting each other with clubs like cave men and the Psychics are like gods.”

“Pshh,” Frazie dismissed. “And you Psychics wonder why normal people don’t like you.”

Raz glared, but watched her sink into a nearby beanbag and held his tongue. It wasn’t he and his friends she was conflicted about, after all. She picked up the book she was reading and turned another page. The story was about Truman and Hollis saving a class of elementary-school kids from a Psitanium golem. The notebook beside her was empty, but the “read” pile on the other side was getting very full.

“Here you kids are.” Hollis stepped into the classroom. “Still hard at work?”

“We are, actually. Look at our chalkboard!” Lili pointed to the list of issues and numbers accumulated under each label. “We’re making real progress!”

“Very good!” She said. “Any clues about which chapter of the New Thinkers we are dealing with?”

“No but we found someone who looks like Hornblower in a background panel.” Adam floated the issue from Raz’s drawing station for Hollis’s perusal.

“Interesting!” She considered it a moment and checked the cover before floating it back down. “Anything else?”

“I found trees,” Sam offered with a shrewd look at Lili. “And they WERE on a mountain, thank you very much.”

“I look forward to hearing tomorrow’s report. It’s good to see young agents applying yourselves….” Hollis trailed off, narrowing her eyes on Frazie who was failing to hide behind her open magazine. “What’s she doing here?”

“Um….” Raz sucked his teeth. “Civilian Volunteer?”

“Did she sign in?”

Frazie peeked over the top of her barrier. “That’s a thing?”

Hollis shook her head and got back to business. “To the ACTUAL Psychonauts in the room, i know you heard the overhead report. There’s been another bomb in Australia. The Albatross is leaving in the morning for Malacquie to try and help.”

Gisu’s eyes lit. “Are we going?”

“Not this time, I’m afraid,” Hollis said. “Instead, I’ll need you all to fill in around here. Agents Aquato and Zanotto’s research project is a great start, but you may be given new assignments as needs arise. I want you all to stay on-alert and check your mailboxes frequently. I won’t be around to hunt you down. For now, it’s coming up on curfew. Time to pack it in.”

The team let out a collective groan and filed past her back to the Atrium. Lili and Frazie waited for Raz to pack his drawing materials and picked up the rear.

“One moment you two,” Hollis said.

Raz paused. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Eggbeater. Potato Master.” Hollis paused with a look at Frazie before folding her arms behind her back. “I want to give you YOUR additional assignment right now.”

“Additional assignment?” Lili asked.

“IF you think you’re up for it.”

“We’re up for it!” Raz’s heart leaped. “What’s the assignment?”

“I’m leading the dispatch mission to Australia. This means I won’t be around to keep tabs on the place. Specifically, tabs on the Grand Head.”

“We’re spying on Dad?” Lili asked.

“Not spying. Call it… a personal assessment,” Hollis said. “Truman and I… we’re having a disagreement. I’ll be keeping up with his official reports from the team leaders and the All-Projects meetings, but that won’t give me the in-person perspective. Agent Zanotto, you know the Grand Head better than anyone else around here ever could. Just inform me if he starts acting out of the ordinary.”

Lili slid Raz a worried look. “Is he in trouble?”

“His brain hasn’t been swapped again if that’s what you mean,” Hollis said with forced humor. “But he didn’t take the recovery course I recommended before I left on vacation, and now with all these plates spinning…” She surveyed the worried faces before her and cut herself short. “I just know he’ll keep boiling that kettle if we let him. I don’t want him to hurt himself, and I don’t want to lose Hornblower because our director’s had a nervous breakdown.”

Lili took an uneven breath. “I’ll keep an eye on him, ma'am.”

“Just give me your perspective. No need to lose faith,” Hollis said. “Hopefully we’ll only be gone a few days. I want to be back before the duel mission kicks off. Would young Miss Aquato like a ride back to camp?”

Frazie blushed bright red and bit her lip. “Um…”

“I’ll walk her home,” Raz said.

Hollis pressed her lips. “Are you sure? It’s dark already.”

“We’ll go through the mine,” Raz said. “It’s okay, the walls glow.”

“Alright, just be back in the Hypnository before the doors lock,” Hollis said. “Lili? Do you need an escort downstairs?”

Lili rolled her eyes. “As if.”

Hollis chuckled. “Okay, Agents. Have a good night.”

Lili and Raz turned toward the lobby but Frazie held back. She raised her eyebrows to Hollis. “Agent uh… Forscythe?”

Hollis set her jaw. “Yes?”

“Good luck in Australia,” Frazie said. “I’ve been reading about your adventures and I know you’ve done cool stuff, so I think you’re going to do really great there.”

Hollis’s half smile highlighted her intrigued eyes. “Thank you, Miss Aquato.”

“You’re welcome,” she said and shuffled after her brother. “Bye.”

Chapter Text

The levitube at the center of the Atrium was designed at a point when Otto and the others had only Psychic employees in mind for the Motherlobe. With Levitation as the only means in or out of the building, it ensured no unwelcome guests or bad actors made it in. Back then, being Psychic was a cause for normal businesses not to hire people, so the Psychonauts wanted to be a haven for anyone needing work not just those wanting to be super spies or inventors. It worked well until they hired a Non-Psychic janitor and had to take turns piggybacking him and all his cleaning equipment up and down the lifts. Suddenly there was a need to install more traditional elevators, although they took steps to see that the security aspect still kinda worked – the elevator doors were so well hidden in the Atrium walls that no one could find them without already knowing where they were, and after Otto got his Thinkerprint access system going, you could only use them with a registered escort. By the time the basement project kicked off, they didn’t even bother installing levitubes, which was fine. Truth be told, they were more flash than function, anyway. Frazie, of course, couldn’t Levitate at all so in order to get down the main tube to reception, she and Raz had to utilize the old-as-dirt secondary platform function which took a million times longer than just floating down. The levitube opened like normal and with the press of a button, the floor at the bottom of the shaft released a disk that floated up like the platforms in the basin. He and Frazie stepped aboard and their weight forced the ring very very slowly down the short tube to the entryway. It made Raz grateful he was Psychic, and wish he had his time-warp pin on.

. The quarry basin was a beautiful place after dark. The Motherlobe had lights tucked in the folds of its cortexes that cycled on timers to give the brain-shaped building an ethereal shine. Floodlights from the GPC and Otto’s lab reflected off the lake water, mingling with the reflection of the Milky Way to form a blanket of rippling stars. Hanging lanterns installed around the rock walls looked like fireflies year-round, and the cool air conjured mist atop the sun-warmed water. Off-duty agents gathered around fire pits or grills on the outdoor seating areas, adding the human sounds of camaraderie to the chirp of the frogs and plunk of jumping fish.

The Pelican was parked in its usual place of honor, glowing purple and gold as it ran final checks in preparation for Australia. Raz was almost tempted to wave ‘hello’ to it as he and Frazie passed beneath it. After crashing it in the Rhombus of Ruin and the journey to Lowha Lasung, the jet felt like a real member of the Psychonaut team. He hoped it had a good trip Down Under and it wouldn’t miss Sasha, Milla, and Oleander too much while it was gone.

Raz stepped to the edge of the quarry wall and sighed. He loved everything about the place - the quarry, the building, the people. He couldn’t imagine a cooler place to live and work. He presented it to Frazie with unvarnished awe. "It's something, right?"

"Something, yeah," Frazie said, unimpressed. "Little flashy for a secret base."

"No one said it was secret. The mailing address is printed in the comic books."

"Seriously? I'm surprised the Hornblower hasn't blown you up yet."

"This is probably the one place on the whole planet it wouldn't make sense to detonate a Mind Bomb," Raz said. "If he really wants to kill Non-Psychics, the ratio here is way off. Plus just about everyone employed here can fix themselves."

"Hmph." Frazie crossed her arms but looked a little relieved. "Race you back to camp?"

"Okay, you're on!"

The siblings hopped along the logs and rails on their way to the old Psitanium mine. If it was just Raz, he would have OttoB.O.N.’d his way to the Questionable Area, but it was nice to go through the mines sometimes, especially with a friend and ESPECIALLY in the dark. The walls glowed teal and magenta from psychoactive algae and ribboning veins of Psitanium. Frazie cartwheeled and bounced off the walls and foliage, finding hand-holds and springs in the carved-out formations as naturally as if they were installed for her to use. Raz kept pace, picking different paths and hopping grind-rails as they braided through the tight passage. It felt like one of their circus performances, reawakening all the fun and excitement of tossing and catching each other from trapezes and platforms. The Flying Aquatos - daring death from great heights, and drawing gasps from their audiences. As much as he loved using his mental skills, it wasn't the same excitement as feeling his heart and lungs work as he pushed his muscles to their limits through tumbles and flips.

They emerged in the parking lot at the Questionable Area where the Aquadomoe was bathed in its own spotlight halo. The blue striped canvas, tiered construction, and flags at the top of the tentpoles made it look like a castle against the dark shroud of the trees. His heart beat with exertion and a different kind of love - not the awe of the Motherlobe but an appreciation for the beauty of the scene and a nostalgia for all the milestones and accomplishments it had staged through his life.

“Hey Raz,” Frazie said, panting. “Can I talk to you a sec?”

“Sure!”

“It’s… um….“ She stretched her quads in the pause. “It’s been fun the past couple of days – even with the whole war hospital thing. It’s been cool seeing what you and your spy friends do. And you and me hanging out like we used to.”

“Does that me you forgive me for running away from home?”

“As if!” Frazie laughed. “I get at LEAST a year of abuse out of that before you’re off the hook!”

He snorted.

Frazie’s smile faded. “Do you think you’d consider moving back to camp again? I know you’re really committed to the Psychonaut thing, but that’s not a reason to be so far away all the time.”

The question deflated all the joy in his heart. “I mean, the dorm comes with the job.”

“But we’re your family.”

“I know you are…” He didn’t want to bring up their mother’s prejudice – or Dion’s since the afternoon found him backsliding again. He knew they were trying to understand. His hesitation wasn’t JUST about that. He was afraid that returning to the circus would suck him back in, and he’d find himself locked into the routine of transient performance that he’d risked everything to escape. He was living his dream, world-crisis and all. He didn’t want to give it up, even for Frazie, and he felt guilty for it. Raz wet his lips. “It’s not like I don’t come and visit all the time.”

“It’s not the same.” Frazie tugged her hair for a moment before tossing it over her shoulder with an overly-exasperated stage sigh. “I can see the truth, now. Everything becomes clear. You love your Psychic family more than your real one.”

He bristled. “No I don’t!”

“And I mean, who can blame you? Your Psychic family has a twenty-four hour ice cream station and a free bowling alley.” Frazie cut a smile that let him know she wasn’t mad. “At least come in and say ‘hi’ while you’re here.”

Raz's stomach flipped. He rubbed his arm, feeling conflicted and still a little emotionally raw. “How did Mom deal with you two going to China?”

“Oh, she doesn’t know.”

“Sorry, what?”

“She thought we were staying over at your place and blamed you,” Frazie said. “It made her so happy to complain about your work life, Dion and I just let her go for it. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?”

“Frazie!” Raz groaned. “You said you would talk to her!”

“I did. Then I decided to let her live in her delusion.” She slugged him. “Night Pooter.”

He wilted. “Night, Frazie.”

She swung up into the treetops and vanished like a whisper. Going invisible? Raz couldn’t tell, but he was pretty sure she did.

He took steps toward the mine, but something about returning to the Motherlobe felt like running away from home again. There was an OttoB.O.N. stop at the dorms, he might as well take that route… but there was also an OttoB.O.N. stop at Green Needle Gulch. Ford could always use company, and he'd probably appreciate an update on the most recent mission status. Plus, it wasn't the caravan or his dorm, and it bought him some time. Raz kicked open the hinged metal lid hopped into the tubes.

He popped out at the Heptadome and jogged the boardwalk over the water to Ford’s refreshed lake house. In the distance, the windows of Cassie’s apiary-library glowed like a star. Bob and Helmut had moved from the Gulch to HQ, not because they preferred it, but because Helmut was a brain in a jar and getting to and from the Motherlobe was easier that way. That left Ford by his lonesome in the middle of the lake. He perked up when Raz entered.

“Hello there, son. This is a late night for you,” Ford called from the loft. Levitating screens floated past him in alternating paths, displaying shots of Fanrong and the other Mind Bomb locations.

Ford’s old place in the Gulch was his new spy-central station. After closing up camp for the summer, Sasha and Milla got a truck to bring all of the tech and spy equipment out of Ford’s hidden sanctuary. It was sad to see, in a way. Raz learned a lot in the Psitanium cave under Whispering Rock, but he understood why Ford wanted all of it out. He’d basically been trapped down there for years during the worst season of his mental disjointment. Even if he returned to camp as a counselor, Raz doubted he’d go back to the isolation and the dark. Besides, Ford had recruited himself for “Lucy Watch,” which kept him tied to the Gulch or the QA most of the time. Late at night, however, when Nona was safely back at the campground with her family, he was once again former Psychonaut Grand Head Ford Cruller scanning the airwaves and mindwaves for disturbances.

Raz climbed the ladder and joined Ford at the rail. “Have you found anything new?”

“Oh, I’ve been popping in and out when I can. There’s a lot going on in the world right now,” Ford said. “I’m sure you know about Australia.”

“Yeah, the first team is leaving for there now,” Raz answered. “Were you watching when it happened?”

“Pfft. I can’t watch every camera everywhere all over the world at once,” Ford scoffed. “I did get this, though.”

He pressed a finger to his temple and whisked one of the screens out of rotation. It was displaying a series of security camera images. Ford tapped a hidden button on the side of the display until he found the image he wanted. A lanky man with an unkempt beard was standing at a bus stop. Raz didn’t recognize him from any of the Psychonaut reports. “Who’s that?”

“The bomb.”

Ford advanced the slides one by one. Raz held his breath, afraid that each frame would show blood and guts as they flipped past; the man sat on the bench, he opened his backpack, he removed a large envelope, he opened the envelope and retrieved a smaller envelope, he was on the ground without a head.

Raz exhaled, glad the camera missed the splatter. “Can you zoom in and see what the envelope says?”

“It’s too blurry to make out anything on the little one, but the big one lists the man’s name and an address.”

“His address?” Raz asked.

“The bus stop’s address,” Ford said. “That means we were right in our theory that these people are being sent to these places on purpose. As for what was in the smaller envelope, there’s no way to tell. Probably instructions about how to detonate themselves.”

“That’s horrible,” Raz said. “We gotta recover that envelope.”

“I agree. I’ve already told Milla to share the request with Agent Forscythe.”

Raz recalled the harried look on Milla’s face and frowned. “Why didn’t you tell Hollis directly?”

Ford groaned. “Psychonaut leadership is still… hands-off with me. History, you know?”

“But your mind is fixed now, they should trust you.”

“Eh, it’s not quite that easy,” he said. “Besides, I’ve been giving Sasha and Milla my tips for so long, it’s just easier to keep doing what I’ve been doing.”

“Easier for you, maybe. Sasha and Milla are both working super hard right now. They don’t need more on their plate than what they already have.”

“It’s just a tip here and there,” Ford insisted. “Besides, it looks good on their resumes to have me feeding them exclusives. Heck, I’m probably the reason they’re superstar agents at all. They should be thanking me!”

“They’re superstar agents because they constantly put their lives on the line saving the world!” Raz snapped. “If you care about them at all, you’d cut them some slack.”

“Alright, alright, sheesh.” Ford brushed the conversation off his gray knit uniform like lint. “Did you come here for an update or to bust my chops?”

“Depends on what you’ve got.” Raz crossed his arms. “Anything besides the envelopes?”

“I followed that lead you mentioned before. Did a deep dive into the Mentalists and their global movements.”

“Oh! I guess no one told you. It’s the New Thinkers now.”

“Oh, I know. But if you ask me, I think there’s still something here.” Ford ambled to his screens. “There’s been a lot of Mentalist activity in the places that were hit… BEFORE the bombs in each of the cities went off.”

“What kind of activity?”

“Well for one, every town except Buxing had an underground dueling ring in it,” Ford said. “And every one of those rings disbanded as soon as the prison break became known. Not only that, but train and bus ledgers of those places show an exodus of known Mentalist fighters OUT of the different cities.”

Raz gaped. “They evacuated!”

Ford hummed confirmation. “That means someone tipped them off.”

“Horatio was a duelist,” Raz said. “Was he a Mentalist, too?”

“Could be. As far as my sources know, you aren’t required to join up in order to participate in the competition, but they definitely use the rings to recruit their new members,” Ford said. “Either way, it can’t be a coincidence, which means it’s a lead.”

“Both the Mentalists AND the New Thinkers working together?" Raz shook his head. “Have you told Truman?”

Ford scratched his neck. “...I told Sasha.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised to hear that.”

“Look here, son. I don’t have to take your sass,” Ford pressed. “I’m your senior. More than that, I’m the founder of your organization. Show some respect.”

Raz dropped his arms with a sigh. “I know I’ve only been a Psychonaut for three weeks, but I think you’re scared.”

“Scared!?”

“Scared of rejoining the team, and scared of yourself,” Raz said. “You lived for twenty years not being able to trust your own mind and now all of a sudden the world has opened back up. That’s a lot.”

Ford brushed him off, again.

“You know it’s never too late to challenge yourself,” Raz said. “You can still do a lot of good. And you don’t have to hide behind Sasha and Milla’s reputations to do it. Just think about it, alright?”

“I’ll be thinking about your nerve,” Ford said, but it wasn’t malicious. He hooked his hands on his hips. “Innit past your bedtime?.”

“Yeah, curfew’s technically at eleven, but honestly, I’ve been traveling so much, I couldn’t tell you WHAT time it was.”

“Time for you to go home,” Ford said. “Allow me.”

Raz went stiff as Ford extended a hand in his direction. In a breath, the creaks and smells of the lake house were traded for the familiar cedar and old-sock smell of his dorm room. It was the first time he'd been back since traveling to China. It wasn't grand or flashy, but it was a little place that was his where all his stuff was as he liked it and he felt safe and sleepy. Raz exhaled a long sigh and climbed onto his bed, grateful to be exactly who and where he was.

Chapter Text

The Psychonauts’ sleeping quarters, AKA the Hypnository, was a custom-built on-site apartment complex located a short distance up the road from the Motherlobe between the quarry and the interstate highway. Residency was not required for employees. Many agents and staff members opted to live off-site in the suburbs or the nearby town of Nanich which, unbeknownst to the legacy locals, was about 10% Psychonaut at any given time. Most of the Non-Psychic staff lived in town, and any agents with families who wanted to take advantage of the public school system. Hollis and her husband lived in a house halfway between the Motherlobe and downtown Nanich where he worked as a consultant. Sasha and Milla had apartments on the Hypnositorys top floor, but also kept private condos in the city – Sasha claimed the loud-quiet of city noise helped him log-off, and Milla liked having a private garage.

Raz’s place was a one-room studio on the fourth floor next to the elevator, but compared to cramming into a caravan with his seven family members it might as well have been the palace at Versailles. A ten year old living alone was borderline illegal, so he and all the other Junior Agents’ places were structured a lot more like boarding-school dorm rooms. They didn’t have kitchens, couldn’t have candles, weren’t allowed pets (although Sam found a way to get a goat in once,) and there was an assigned a male and female RA who lived at the end of the hall. Raz was far from complaining. He had a real bed, and a bathroom, AND a closet! Plus, he got to decorate the walls with all the cool stuff he’d collected. The first things to go up were his favorite True Psychic Tales centerfolds including a poster of Sasha and Milla fighting mutant werewolves, a map of the comic book’s version of the Motherlobe, and portrait of the Psychic Six posing valiantly on a waterfall. He’d also pinned up the Whispering Rock pamphlet his grandmother gave him, and the oversized green-knit Psychonaut sweater he wore after his fellow interns hazed him out of his real clothes. Ford had given him an official him-sized set of Psychonaut Knits at Whispering Rock, but he’d left them on the plane after the Rhombus of Ruin and the on-board squirrel had bitten holes in them. Raz kept meaning to ask Nona to fix them for him, but she'd been really distracted getting her memories back and of course there was no rush. Only a couple of the Psychonauts still wore the knits every day. Most came to work in a suit and tie. Raz took his style direction from Sasha and Milla who seemed to wear whatever they wanted without breaking any dress codes. Raz’s go-to was the green-striped sweater from Nona, the friendship bracelet from Lili, and the faded hand-me-down black suit jacket from Sasha. As embarrassing as it was to be pranked on his first day of work, he got a sick souvenir out of it and he wasn't going to let that go in a hurry.

Raz slipped out of his apartment at 5:00am on the dot, even though the All-Projects meeting wasn't until six. He and Lili wanted to go over their big presentation before the meeting started, plus he was too excited to sleep in. The Thinkerprint lock sealed automatically as he ventured into the empty fourth-floor hallway. The design philosophy of the Hypnository was “brain-hotel chic” with atrocious geometric carpet and brocade EEG patterned wallpaper accented by brain-shaped crystal lamps. Across the hall from the elevator was the floor’s “common room and concierge desk,” which for the teens on the fourth floor was more like a “study hall and babysitter.” The female RA was busy pinning notices to a cork board behind her work station, but looked up with a smile when Raz closed his door. “Good morning Razputin!”

He waved. “Morning Stacy.”

“Are you ready for another big day of international crisis?” She said with boisterous enthusiasm and no trace of irony. Stacy Doom was Precognitive Psi-cadet Elka Doom’s non-psychic older half-sister, which probably had something to do with her forced positivity. “There’s bagels and milk out today if you want them.”

“No thanks, Stace. I have a meeting at six.”

“Oh ho! Look at you Mr. Professional. Make sure your special spy work doesn’t overlap with Pizza and Bingo Night tonight!” She tapped the flier she’d pinned to the board. “I know that you’ll be there!”

Raz smirked. “Is that a Psychic prediction?”

She laughed. “You know it’s not!”

In spite of Stacy’s programming attempts, the Junior Psychonauts represented most of the under-eighteen staff members, so the fourth floor was never busy enough to need organized entertainment. Raz wondered how many of his neighboring apartments were empty and how many would fill up when new interns arrived. The thought stirred butterflies in Raz’s stomach. It was weird enough thinking about other cabins full of kids at Whispering Rock, but more kids in the intern program? That felt REALLY weird. Would Sasha and Milla take new mentees when they got there? Would that leave any time for him? Raz shivered the idea away. He wasn’t that insecure, was he? It wasn’t like he had any kind of CLAIM on Sasha and Milla apart from their history together. They weren’t his private tutors. They weren’t even his official mentors! Norma and Morris had more claim to Sasha and Milla than Raz did, and yet the superstars still spent time guiding and instructing him just because he asked. New interns couldn’t take that away, no matter how many there were, yet the worry still nagged him. It felt a lot like Sam’s wallpaper plastered to the inside of his head. Was that crack Ford found bothering him? Raz pressed the call button on the elevator and tried to put the whole thing out of his mind.

The Penthouse floor had a Thinkerprint access code just like the OttoB.O.N, and just like the OttoB.O.N., Lili slipped it to him right away. It made it easier for him to come pick her up in the morning, which he did often, and to visit after-hours which he did less-often. Her dad was still the Grand Head of the Psychonauts, and it’s weird to hang out with your boss at the same time as your girlfriend. The Thinkerprint reader scanned his head before whisking him to the top floor where he exited on to the dawn-lit luxury of the executive hallway.

A ribbon of sunrise lit the treetops through the east-facing windows. The west wall had a line of decorated apartment doors. Bob and Helmut’s stood out most, hung with plaques promoting positive vibes and cluttered with sun-hungry potted plants. The place used to be Nick Johnsmith’s apartment, which was fitting since Helmut occupied his body for a while, too. It was hard to believe that the Gzecarovich of Grulovia was plotting revenge in the same place the most important members of the Psychonauts slept at night, but it also shed some light on why everyone trusted him so much. He was a neighbor… maybe even a work friend. Floormates with Thinkerprint access. Vetted.

At first Raz considered it weird that being head of the mail room was a senior-level position at all, especially since Nick wasn't even Psychic. As it turned out, Postmaster General was REQUIRED to be a Non-Psychic position. Some would say a TOKEN Non-Psychic position so that the organization could say a Non-Psychic was on the advisory board in their government review. Ironic that it put Gristol Malik in the perfect position to kidnap Truman Zanotto in his pajamas and bathrobe, which was how he answered the door when Raz knocked.

“Good morning, Razputin,” Truman said. “You're here early. All-project meeting isn't for another hour.”

“I know, but we wanted to get a head start,” Raz said. “It's our first senior staff presentation. We wanted to make sure we were ready.”

“Very responsible of you,” Truman said. “Do you want to come in or…”

“I'm ready! Dad, out of the way.” Lili ducked under her father’s arm. She was dressed in the most subdued outfit she owned with her school bag on her shoulders and her pigtails wound into two buns on the back of her head. She was really taking this ‘'team leader' position seriously. “Ready to go, Raz?”

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Okay, bye Dad.”

He smiled and shut the door. Raz lowered his voice in case the Grand Head could still hear him. “Anything for Hollis’s special assignment?”

“Only that Dad seems even more worried and upset after the Australia bomb, but really who wouldn't be? And he's still mad about the Project Race. AND I found this.” Lili pulled a stack of polaroid photos from her backpack. “Hollis said Dad was playing things close to his chest, so I picked the lock to his office after he went to sleep and took photos of his notes.”

Raz flipped through the pictures. Truman’s handwriting was atrocious, but Raz’s eye was drawn to familiar words; Malik, Grulovia, Deluginists, Loboto. He handed the photos back. “They’re all about the Mailigula Incident.”

“He’s still investigating it, even though the case was closed,” Lili said.

“It WAS pretty traumatic for him.”

“And personal!” Lili said. “He’s blaming himself for not suspecting that there was a mole.”

“But it wasn’t his fault, Nick Johnsmith tricked everyone.”

“But not Dad!” Lili said. “Dad NEVER trusted Nick, even before we knew he was Malik. Even Sasha and Milla accepted Nick for who he said he was, but not Dad. That leads me to this.”

She pulled one of the photos from the back of the plie. It showed a sticky note that simply read. “M NOT PSYCHIC.”

“M must stand for Malik,” Raz said. “But we already knew he was Non-Psychic.”

“Yeah, and a Non-Psychic couldn’t have put that block we saw in Loboto’s head!” Lili said. “Sasha and Milla agreed that only a powerful Psychic could put a block that strong in somebody’s brain. If Gristol Malik couldn’t have done it, that could only mean one thing!”

“He had an accomplice!” Raz said. “That explains why Truman lied on the radio, and why he chose to blame the Mentalists until we were all in the same building.”

“AND it means that Dad ISN’T paranoid!” Lili cried. “He’s being extra careful because he doesn’t know who to trust.”

“But who could have been working with Malik?”

“It could be someone on campus, but Malik wasn't restricted just to our building. There was the Lady Lucktopus, but he traveled all over the world while he was on the run."

"Another Deluginist?" Raz asked.

"Could be. Although considering Dad's refusing to let the whole agency in on his suspicions, I'm thinking it might be closer to home. At least we can be confident it's not anyone on senior staff. They're the only ones Dad's being honest with, and if he trusts them, so do I." Lili stuffed the stack of polaroids back into her pack. “I’m going to pop down to the archives and see if I can find anything else.”

"See if you can find anything about the Mentalists, too," Raz said. "I talked with Ford last night and he thinks someone is tipping the Mentalists off to where the next bomb will be. Maybe whoever helped Malik is helping them, too.”

“But who would help the Mentalists AND the Deluginists? Someone in Hornblower's gang?"

"Maybe one of the New Thinkers has been betraying the group from the inside. The Psychonauts certainly don't know where the attacks will take place."

"And Compton did say something about Hornblower not knowing how to make a Lasso... so maybe it's a New Thinker, but I don't think there's anyone in the New Thinker cult that works for us," Lili said. "Maybe somebody's lying."

"What if it's a field agent? They'd know how to make a Lasso."

Lili considered. "What if it’s that CIA guy Mr. Webb? His boyscout routine could be a front for secret Psychic powers?”

Raz grinned. “What if it’s Pergola?”

“Oooh, I hope it is him! I’d like an excuse to beat him to death with my fists!”

“You'd do Sasha a favor.”

As if summoned, a door at the end of the hall swung open and Sasha Nein stepped out of his penthouse apartment. Raz and Lili zipped their lips and trotted to meet him at the elevator.

“Morning, children.” Sasha said, sounding weary. He wore yet another horizontal striped sweater – this one gray-on-gray – and carried a briefcase on his shoulder with a leather strap.

“Morning, Sasha,” Raz said. “I’m surprised to see you here! Did you sleep on campus last night?”

“Campus, yes. Sleep, no.” He tapped the case at his hip. “I was up compiling data on flight details.”

“I thought Truman told you to get someone else to do that,” Raz said. Lili jabbed him in the ribs. That exchange had happened in the private meeting they'd spied on between the superstars and Mr. Webb. Sasha quirked a sardonic eyebrow. Raz broke a cold sweat. “I mean, I heard Truman SAY that he told you to get someone else to do that.”

Sasha shook his head. “Don't bother, Razputin, I'm too tired to act surprised,”

He hit the ‘call’ button. Lili leaned around to survey the hall. “Is Milla coming? Shouldn’t we wait for her?”

“Agent Vodello has a hard time sleeping when there's so much mentalference in the world. It tends to enter her dreams,” he said, even wearier. “She decided to stay in her meditation room last night. I doubt it was very restful, but at least there she can make sure that the events of her nightmares aren’t real.”

The elevator arrived and the three rode it down to the basement. The bottom floor of the Hypnository was a stop on the Motherlobe’s underground tram system. There were two lines – one constantly bouncing between the dorms and HQ, and the other running back and forth to Nanich so the agents living on campus didn't need a car to go get groceries. The tram was styled in fifties-retro-future at its finest. It reminded Raz of visiting the houses in Boyd's mind – all wonky shapes and formica with random starbursts all over it.

A couple yawning staff members were waiting on the platform. Raz could tell by the jumpsuits they were Non-Psychic janitors ready to spiff up the Motherlobe before the doors opened at six. The jumpsuits moved further down the platform when the tram to HQ pulled up, so that the Psychics and the Non-Psychics were occupying separate cars.

Raz’s throat tightened. He and Lili hopped into one of the aisle-facing seats. Sasha opted to stand. He leaned into the support pole, pulled a packet of papers out of his briefcase and started reviewing them as the doors closed and the tram car pulled out.

The top sheet of the packet was typed with a typewriter and read "Mentallist Movement Log" across the top. Raz watched Sasha's face. “Hey Sasha?"

"Hmm?"

"I visited Ford last night. He told me about the weird stuff he's been finding. Do you think the Mentallists have something to do with Hornblower?"

Sasha flipped to the next page. "The Mentallists and the New Thinkers don't move in the same circles. One group consists of the richest and most historic Psychic families in the world and the other is full of runaways and delinquents. If the two are connected its not for mutual benefit."

"Could they have hired the Mentallists or something? Maybe to help move the bombs around?"

"It's possible I suppose. More reason to review those bank transfers."

"Ah." Raz had forgotten about the bank printouts. He changed the subject. "What floors do the Non-Psychic staff live on?”

“They don’t have an assigned floor, but tend to stay on the first and second.”

“Why don't they mingle with the rest of the employees?”

“Pay grade, mostly,” Sasha replied. “Unlike the Penthouse floor reserved for senior staff and the north hall of the fourth floor set aside for interns, the rest of the units are rent-based with relief bonuses bundled into everyone's salaries. Some of the Non-Psychic workers can afford the upper apartments if they want them, but frankly the job of a special agent carries a higher risk than other positions and grounds workers don’t get hazard pay.”

Raz frowned. “I thought my apartment came with the job.”

“It does, but you still pay a base monthly fee for amenities and such. It comes out of your paycheck.”

Raz gaped. “I get a paycheck?”

Sasha looked up from his papers with an arched brow. “You thought you worked for the Psychonauts for free?”

“I didn’t… I mean…How much do I make?”

"You'd have to ask your father He signed your contract."

Raz had no idea what a normal salary was for a regular agent let along a junior one, although if apartment size was the indicator, probably not much. He suddenly beheld Mr. City-Condo-and-a-Penthouse with new eyes. “How much do YOU make?”

Sasha smirked. “Enough.”

The Motherlobe’s tram station was on Basement 2 next to the vehicle hangar. The Non-Psychic personnel made their way from the car to the mechanical elevator in the corner, but Raz, Lili, and Sasha took the levitubes to the Atrium. The place was dim, lit only by the high flood lights and even higher windows, with none of the screens or lamps powered up yet. Raz and Lili beelined for the classroom, but noticed Sasha heading for the Noodle Bowl. Raz put on the breaks. “Are you getting breakfast?”

“The team is meeting for coffee.”

“Are…” Raz glanced at Lili. “Are we meeting for coffee, too?”

Sasha cocked his head. “Do you drink coffee?”

“Raz does!” Lili shoved her boyfriend in the back and added, privately. “Remember Hollis's special mission! Try and ask about Dad!”

”Oooh!” Raz straightened his messenger bag on his shoulder. “Gotcha!”

Lili proceeded up the Think Tank ramp. Sasha waited for Raz to catch up and the two entered the Noodle Bowl together. Milla and Otto were already sitting at one of the larger tables. Compton had gotten up to dispense himself a cup of coffee from the industrial-sized percolators near the buffet line. The kitchen staff clinked and clattered behind the scenes, readying the food for the shift-change rush. The overnight snack station was looking picked over – third shift was treated to a build-your-own taco bar. Raz was a little jealous.

“Good morning, darlings,” Milla bid from her seat. “It’s a pleasure to see the two of you. Did you have a good rest?”

“I did,” Raz said. “Sasha was working.”

“Naturally.” Otto kicked the chair beside him out from the table and bid Sasha to sit down. “How did it go with Pergola? Did you break your nose?”

“No, I did not.” Sasha took the offered seat. “But we’re starting combat training this morning so it's still on the schedule.”

“Oh, I hope not. I like your nose.” Milla scooted a cup of coffee across the table and Sasha toasted her before downing half of it. Raz climbed into the empty chair next to Milla who patted his arm in greeting and continued the conversation he'd interrupted. “So what were you saying about the neutralizer, Otto?”

Otto slouched in his chair. “I can’t decide if I want to focus on fortification or prevention. A Psilirium core would counter the Psychic blast from the bomb but also decrease the mental defense of the victims, on the other hand Psitanium would increase the mental strength of the victims but also increase the intensity of the blast. It’s a Catch 22.”

“Considering our new tip from Agent Cruller, perhaps focusing on limiting the blast radius is better,” Milla suggested. “Knowing that each bomb is deployed with a preassigned location, once we gain access to Honrblower’s mind we should be able to set the neutralizers in the epicenter of the blasts before they happen.”

"True." He returned a zealous grin. “But if my team wins the Project Race, we won’t have access to Hornblower's mind because he’s gonna get fried with Morry’s space-lazer.”

Milla smirked. "No space-lasers."

“Ah, good morning Agent Nein,” Compton said as he arrived with his coffee. Sasha was leaning heavily on his hand and didn’t answer. Compton set his coffee cup in front of Raz and was surprised to find his chair stolen. “Oh! And Agent Aquato! I wasn’t expecting you to join us.”

“I just thought I’d get to know everyone on a peer-to-peer level,” Raz said. “Get that watercooler talk before the big team meeting, you get me?”

“If you don’t know us well enough after hopping into our minds, I’m afraid there’s nothing more we can do for you,” Compton said. Milla levitated a chair from the neighboring table. He accepted it with a nod and started dumping sugar packets in his coffee. “How is your comic book research project coming? Any leads yet?”

“We’re still in the…. uh… collating stage,” Raz said. “Although Agent Cruller gave us some new tips we can follow up on.”

“Another tip jockey for Agent Cruller!” Otto elbowed Sasha. “Look out, you're becoming obsolete.”

The jolt knocked Sasha's chin off his wrist. He nodded awake just before face-planting in his coffee. “What? Who? Sorry?”

Milla smiled, gently. “You fell asleep, darling.”

“Oh…” Sasha moved his cup and fell asleep on his folded arms, instead.

“So, uh,” Raz ventured. “What do we think of the mission? Truman’s got a lot of plates spinning, right?”

“The Grand Head is trying his very best,” Milla said. “He’s under tremendous pressure right now, especially with Hollis overseas. It would be best if we focus our energy on supporting him as much as we can.”

Raz flushed. “O-of course! I wasn’t trying NOT to support him.”

“I’m proud of him for giving his uncle a second chance,” Compton offered. “Bob has been through so much. I know this means a lot to him.”

“Whether it means a lot or not, Bob needs the senior-level permissions if he wants to lead the Grulovia mission he’s proposing,” Otto said. “If you ask me, Bob’s quitting after that. Assuming Helmut’s body is salvageable, he’ll need full-time attention starting off. He'll probably need to learn how to use it again.”

Milla’s brow knit. “You don’t think being under the ice has harmed him, do you?”

“My Hyperhyglaciator was designed to trap Lucy alive,” Otto said. “The flash-freezing amplifier enhances a Psychic's Cryokinesis, seizing all cellular activity including entropy, but it wasn’t intended to be used for two decades of suspended animation. Worst case, he’s been atrophied beyond recovery, best case he’ll be very very stiff.”

“Considering he’s alive at all, I’m hoping for the latter,” Compton said.

“And we're certain he's alive right? His body I mean,” Raz said. “Could his brain live by itself in just the brain juice?”

“He needs both to be as cogent as he currently is,” Otto replied. “The ‘brain juice’ as you call it substitutes normal bodily nutritional supplies like blood and food, but the mind is still in both places at once. When we extract brains, the brain stem is left behind to run the bodily systems. A body can technically be considered alive without the higher functions of the cortexes, but cognition is very limited. You've been around brainless people, you know what they're like. Similarly, the rest of the brain can exist in nutritional fluid, but the mind itself is actually split between the two pieces and both need to be sustained separately to keep the body from assuming its dead and shutting down. This can be done with Non-Psychic brains by putting them in a surrogate body, but Psychic brains can communicate with their own brain stems over distance, which is why we can go remote. My nutrient fluid helps with that, too. It’s got a stimulant in it to make communication between the halves easier so the Psychic can remain awake.”

“Which is different from when Loboto took everyone’s brains in Whispering Rock,” Raz guessed. “His juice kept them alive but didn’t have the stimulant in it.”

“No, it did not.” Otto adjusted his glasses. “The amateur.”

“What’s this? A breakfast club?” Mr. Webb walked in, dressed in the same suit he’d been wearing the day before and holding a stars-and-stripes patterned travel mug. “Or do Psychics not have to sleep?”

"Good morning, Bert, "Milla replied with a warm smile. “I hope you weren’t up all night like we were.”

“Burning the candle at both ends as they say.” He took a sip from his tumbler but it was still empty. “I came in for some nitro. I have a lot of catch-up studying to do on this whole being-Psychic thing. Never met a Psychic before you people, I’m starting at square one.”

“Too bad you missed enrollment in Whispering Rock,” Otto chuckled.

Mr. Webb’s eyebrows arched. He reached for his notepad. “Whispering What-now?”

“He’s teasing you,” Milla soothed and narrowed her eyes at Otto. “I know it's a lot to take in all at once, but we’d be happy to answer any questions you may have.”

“Oh, thanks kindly, but I won’t take up your time,” Webb said. “I do wish you all had a real coffee chain in here, though. This cafeteria stuff is awful.”

“Standard issue,” Otto said.

Compton stirred in his sugar. “I recommend honey.”

“Honey?” Webb asked. “In coffee?”

“Honey and cream with a hint of lavender. It’s very good.” He said. “I can give you some from my apiary if you’d like it. And I believe my fellow agent is growing lavender downstairs but he may be conversing with it currently.”

“Oh, ah… no thanks.” Webb said. “Might be considered a bribe. I appreciate it, though. I’ll leave you to your breakfast.”

“Just a moment.” Sasha dragged himself off the table and handed Webb two cassette tapes out of his briefcase. “Here are the travel records scraped from the Pelican’s onboard memory. Arrival times. Local news reports. Air-traffic contacts.”

Webb’s face lit. “Excellent! Thank you.”

“And here is the redundant paperwork to prove its legitimacy.” Sasha stood to drop a heavy accordion folder into the CIA agent’s unprepared arms. He dropped his tumbler, but Milla caught it with her mind before it clattered on the table.

“Wow!” Webb shifted the massive folder and took his cup from the air. “So thorough.”

“Just doing our job.” Sasha’s tight, insincere smile was back. “By the way, if anyone asks, you received these from my assistant.”

“Oh. Sure, yeah,” Webb winked at him. “Your secret's safe with me.”

Milla hummed in consideration and checked the clock on the wall. Brightening, she levitated from her seat and floated around the table to take Sasha’s arm. “Forgive us, Bert. We actually have a meeting to attend. You must excuse us.”

Webb flustered. “Oh! Of course. Duty calls.”

“With a megaphone,” Otto rose. “Good luck with your research, Mr. Webb.”

“Yes. Good luck,” Compton said, more sincerely.

Milla granted the CIA agent a final smile and drew her partner away, leaving Raz and Webb alone on either side of the deserted breakfast table.

The CIA agent pursed his lips. “So we meet again, Imaginary Friend. You seem to be everywhere, don’t you?”

Raz balled his fists against his knees. “I try to be.”

“I still haven't caught your name.”

“I’m uh… needed elsewhere.” Raz double-jumped off the table and sprinted out of the Noodle Bowl, leaving Mr. Webb standing with no coffee and - Raz hoped - no clues.

Chapter Text

The senior staff members each took seats around the Nerve Center conference table, notes and coffee in hand. Raz and Lili grabbed spots side-by-side, thrilled to be sitting front-row at the top-secret meeting instead of spying on it from above. Around them at the observation stations and communications consoles, the third-shift agents were clocking out and the first-shift agents were filtering in. The sun was fully up over the edge of the quarry, but the light shining in through the windows was muted. The artificial glow of the projected screens tinted everything green.

“Thank you all for meeting so early. We’re waiting on one more, but we can get the preliminaries out of the way,” Truman said. “I’m pleased to report no additional explosions over-night and the Pelican is currently over the Pacific Ocean.”

“That’s a relief at least,” Milla sighed.

“And I think we’d all like to extend a hearty welcome to Agents Aquato and Zanotto,” Truman nodded to the youngest members of the assembly. “It’s good to have you at a meeting you were actually invited to.”

Raz attempted a casual chuckle. Lili didn’t flinch a bit. “The pleasure is ours, Grand Head Zanotto.”

The sliding double-doors behind them opened. Truman nodded. “Doctor. Welcome, aboard.”

The crowd turned to see a jetlagged Dr. Cao sulk into the remaining seat.

Compton’s brow arched. “Dr. Cao! You’re here!”

“Only because they drove us out!” He spat.

“Who is ‘they’?” Sasha asked.

“And out of what?” Otto added.

“The People’s Republic Military. And out of the whole damn continent!” The doctor pounded his fist on the table. “They’ve taken control of Site A5. Our Psitanium monitoring equipment? Our research? Confiscated. They didn’t even warn my team on the coast. As for me and the Fanrong group, we were right in the middle of treating patients when armed soldiers stormed in and threatened to handcuff us if we didn’t leave. There were so many people left to treat who are now in the hands of those… those politicians!”

“Calm down, Zhi,” Truman said. “Were you able to recover anything from home?”

“Yes, thankfully,” he said. “I have a mild Precog on staff. She saw them coming early enough to bundle the samples and move any patients out before the PRMCs kicked in our door. They’re safe at the Nagasaki lab but what a loss to medical science.”

“I’ll make some phone calls, see what I can do,” Truman said. “We knew Site A5 was tenuous.”

“A5?” Raz puzzled to Lili. “Is that?”

“TPT 478.” She confirmed. “‘The Monsters of the Undersea Forest.’ It’s an island at the edge of a Psitanium Impact Crater. We have a small team researching the mutations there… or I guess we had one. It’s technically Chinese territory. Looks like they wanted it back.”

“I’m assuming this new aggressive posture is because of Australia,” Sasha ventured.

“That and our close ties to the American government,” Truman said. “We all know know how China is about that. All the hackles raised by the Africa attack had us on the ropes, anyway. Another attack so soon afterward was enough to knock us out.”

“Are we being removed from Labria as well?” Milla asked.

“Agent 33 is in negotiations,” Truman replied. “We’re lucky she intuits languages because she’s been called up in front of the representatives of every OAU country to explain why we need to be there. The locals aren’t happy. No one trusts Psychics.”

“And so we are fighting the same war we’ve been fighting for centuries,” Compton said, resigned. “Are we sure Australia will even let us land?”

“We aren’t, but Hollis is on it,” Truman replied. “Thankfully the United States and Australia have a good rapport. The same thing that got us kicked out of one place might get us IN to the other.

The mood around the table skewed doubtful. Raz tapped his shoes together, not sure what to say or if his input was even appropriate. Being in the room feeling the emotional swells was a lot different than watching the meeting through Rat-Cam. His heart was racing.

Truman tapped the center console and pulled up a blank screen. “Let’s get to business. Project updates. Agent Zanotto, how about you go first?”

“Thank you, Grand Head!” Lili announced. She punched a button on the console in front of her and stood in her chair so everyone could see her. “The TPT team has been hard at work scouring our extensive research materials for these important criteria.”

She stomped the “next” button and revealed a photo of their current chalkboard tallies.

“We’ve been eliminating irrelevant issues of the magazine and hunting for signs of our quarry. Significantly, last night we uncovered an image of the man himself!”

She stomped again and an enlarged copy of the panel with Horatio in it appeared. Raz wondered where she got it, as the copy from the library was still in his backpack. Perhaps she had an issue at home – Raz hoped so, since Horatio’s tiny appearance was circled five times with a red pen and surrounded by arrows.

“That’s a wonderful find, darling!” Milla cheered. “Who would think he would appear right under our noses!”

Lili swelled with pride. “We have drawn up forensic recreations of his on-page accomplices!” She gestured eagerly to Raz who fished in his backpack for the sketches he’d thankfully managed to finish before leaving home that morning. Lili yanked them from his grip with her mind and presented them for approval. “Here are the duelists present in this story! We hope to uncover their identities. Maybe one is in the New Thinkers!”

“That’s a very good lead,” Compton said. “Hand them here, I’ll get my team to work.”

“Thank you, Agent Boole,” Lili said. Raz’s throat caught with the thrill of watching his hand-drawn references be passed over the table to official Psychonauts agents. Lili beamed as she hopped back into her seat.

“Thank you TPT team,” Truman said. “Agent Boole, please continue with your progress.”

Compton took control of the console. “For Dr. Cao’s sake, I’ll unpack a bit first. The team has splintered out into several sub-projects. Mine is research and location tracking. My team has been hard at work searching for the chapter of the New Thinkers responsible for this global attack.”

Dr. Cao sat up straighter. “I thought it was the Mentalists?”

“No,” the crowd chorused.

Truman had the grace to look a little ashamed. “That was subterfuge.”

Compton cleared his throat and advanced his slide to a photo from the Mongolian prison the day of Hornblower's escape. “Our first clue in this mystery was the prison break itself. There is no mystery about the timing. We know for a fact that the Psychic inmates at the prison were poisoned with Psilirium in order to keep their Psychic powers under control. There's ample evidence that poisoning does not prevent the Mind Bombs from detonating, but it WOULD have stopped anyone inside the prison from using a Mental Lasso to re-establish their mind-body connections. As we all know, reeling yourself back into your body takes concentration... which Psilirium Poisoning is specifically known to prevent. We investigated this question further to see if Hornblower's gang had any additional help from the outside, but prison footage does not show any extra parties entering or leaving the prison. Unfortunately the security cameras are not sophisticated enough to sense Mental Energy spikes, but we have reason to believe that someone who hadn't been exposed to Psilirium had to have assisted them at that point. Someone who knew about the repair cycle of the security system and arranged for the timing. The prison is high-security. If the New Thinkers were planning a prison break, they wouldn't be able to coordinate through letters or visitors. It would have to be set up ahead of time. Naturally, the most likely candidate is the group of New Thinkers he was already working with."

Compton turned the slide to display a map of the world.

"With this in mind, we can eliminate chapters of the New Thinkers that were started in the last eight years. Based on that and Agent Aquato’s observations during his unscheduled long-distance Astral Projection, we have narrowed it down to forty-one groups located within mountain ranges or at the proper latitudes for winter weather. Currently the southern hemisphere is in winter, so we’re focusing there. ”

“That’s quite the spread,” Truman noted.

“It’s someplace to start,” Compton replied. “Previously all we had was the New Thinkers and snow.”

“Agent Cruller is also tracking Mentalist activity from his outpost in the gulch.” Sasha dug through his briefcase. “He’s provided me with some transit logs.”

Truman glared at him. “When did you have time to confer with Ford?”

Sasha paused with his hand still in the bag. “He can teleport.”

"Uh huh." Truman narrowed his eyes into a prime 'I'm keeping my eye on you' face. “Okay, go on.”

Sasha floated the typewritten packet he’d been reading on the train across the table to Compton. “The Mentallists evacuated from each of the bomb sites before detonation. Ford believes they got a tip.”

Compton frowned. “From who? From Hornblower?”

“He did return to the dueling rings after his time as a monk,” Sasha ventured. “Even a sociopath can exhibit loyalty.”

“Hmm.” Compton added the packet to the pile of papers accumulating at the research station he’d claimed in the corner of the Nerve Center. “I’ll put someone on it.”

"It is important to locate the groups that helped in the escape, but I still have a question about WHO was responsible," Milla said. "A Mental Lasso is not a natural affinity. Someone had to have learned it. There's also a concern about the Psilirium Poisoning. All of the prisoners were suffering from Psychic confusion, the only way a person could have used a Mental Lasso to help them is if they arrived WHILE the security system was down and Compton said that no one entered or exited the building who wasn't already accounted for."

Sasha nodded agreement. "Who supplied the Psilirium for the refueling?"

"A mining company in the heart of Soviet Russia," Truman answered. "Government run."

"I'll get my research staff to look into that company, too," Compton said. "Although my priority will continue to be looking for Hornblower and his men. Catching a bomb before it detonates is more pressing than finding the masterminds, even if stopping them at the source is better for the world in the long run."

"Unfortunately true," Truman said. “Was there anything else, Agent Boole?”

“I’d like to request more staff.”

“We don’t have more staff.”

“Well, I’d like to request more, anyway.”

“I'll make a note,” Truman said wearily and clicked a button on his console. "Agent Nein. Care to report on your ACTUAL project?”

Sasha pouted at his tone, but stowed his briefcase with a nod to Dr. Cao. “I’m head of the Weaponkinesis project. I’ll send you my slide deck from yesterday to outline it.”

Dr. Cao gestured back. “That’s fine.”

Sasha straightened his sweater and squared his shoulders for lecture mode. “I'll start by saying that we are making progress. It’s a difficult assignment, but I’m up for the challenge and lessons are progressing in spite of my own limitations.”

Milla’s brow knit. “Limitations?”

Truman’s concern was more severe. “What limitations?”

Sasha's eyebrow twitched. “The discipline relies heavily on subconscious control. Each new object I add is given its own path and is expected to enter a holding pattern so that I can give my attention to the actual duel. My instructor can manage three dozen items at once. According to him, my opponent has mastered even more. I can consistently maintain twelve.”

“Twelve?” Truman asked. “That’s it?”

“Twelve’s pretty good considering he started yesterday,” Otto noted.

“I could potentially do more,” Sasha continued, half to himself. “But each new projectile requires the rest to shift in order to avoid collisions, and I am having the most frustrating time moving from twelve to thirteen. There is something about that prime number… I haven’t found the proper calculation either on instinct or on paper. I simply can’t explain it.”

“Perhaps it’s not the math that’s troubling you,” Milla suggested. “As much as Hornblower relies on his Geomancy, math and music are kindred spirits. Instead of the proper equation, perhaps what you need is the proper pace and rhythm.”

“Hmm, that’s good thinking.” He thumbed his lip. “I’ll look through my collections to see if something I have meets the mathematical requirements. If it’s a piece I have memorized, I can recall it as needed and humming it in my head will take some of the burden off the strict patterning I’ve relied on thus far.”

“Good. Get to work on that,” Truman said, flatly. “Any progress on this neutralizer I’ve been hearing so much about?”

Otto heaved a deep sigh. “It’s hard to neutralize something when you don’t know how it works.”

“Did you get any clues from the detonated bodies?” Compton asked.

“Some. It would be more helpful if we had their brains but we do what we can.” Otto tugged a notebook out of his jacket pocket. “I have requested documentation from the Mongolian prison for any notes or figures Hornblower may have left behind. It appears he destroyed them as part of his escape, proving he wasn’t as crazed by Psilirium poisoning as we were hoping. The jury’s still out as to how that’s possible. What the prison WAS able to send, however, was information on the detonated body there, confirming a theory I’ve been crafting.”

He uploaded a slide showing the forty convicts who’d escaped with Horatio. Eight were printed over with giant red letters.

“These human bombs all have names and rap sheets, but for brevity – and because I don’t feel they deserve the respect – I’ve labeled the spent ammo M for Mongolia, B for Buxing, and F, LL, and A in the same way. I expect I’ll soon be getting an LV from Africa and an MQ from Australia and that they will fit this same trend of very familiar toxicology levels I’ve observed in all of the others. Familiar to yours, Milla.”

Her eyes widened. “Mine? In what way?”

“On Cao’s physical after your little episode in Fanrong.” Otto nodded to the doctor to acknowledge his contribution before continuing to Milla. “You displayed a spike in the same neurochemicals during the event. It seems Hornblower’s hypnotic trigger initiated a conductive spiral. Mass-destruction via Mind-storm.”

Raz’s whole body stiffened with a horrified glance at Milla. “Does that mean she almost – ?”

“Oh no,” Dr. Cao chuckled. “Mind-storms aren’t typically external. At least not catastrophically. Agent Vodello was mostly a danger to herself. Possibly the building. But mostly to herself.”

Milla breathed in through her nose. “Let’s talk about something else, shall we?” She reached to the console and pulled up the images Ford showed Raz in Green Needle Gulch. “I also got a visit from Agent Cruller last night. He provided security footage of who will soon be known as subject MQ. These images confirm Sasha’s report from the monastery about the envelope detonator.”

She paused on the lanky man at the bus stop pulling the smaller envelope out of the larger envelope.

“I have already contacted Hollis to try and locate these two envelopes in Australia,” Milla said. “I also contacted Thirty-three to try and locate a pair in Algeria assuming all bombs use the same trigger.”

“Well done,” Truman said. “Do we know what’s in these envelopes?”

“Whatever it is, it must be visual or action-based,” Sasha said. “The man who opened the envelope on Lowha Lasung was caught in a high wind, preventing any kind of auditory or inhalant trigger. The wind also prevented Oleander and I from recovering the papers afterward, although we did try.”

“And we weren’t even looking for envelopes in the other locations until long after the sites had been cleared,” Otto said.

“It could be a trigger word,” Dr. Cao offered. “Something written on the flap that responds to oxygen exposure. That could explain why it’s an envelope within an envelope - to delay the chemical reaction until the bomb can read the word.”

“That’s pretty technical for a guy locked in a cell for seven years,” Otto countered.

“It doesn’t mean he trained them on a chemical reaction, just that he delivered it with one,” Dr. Cao said. “He could have trained them with a spoken word or a flash card or a tattoo he already had. The important part is the word not the delivery.”

Truman nodded. “All good points. Zhi, would you be willing to assist Agent Mentalis on his project?”

The doctor sat forward. “Dr. Blackwell has requested me to join her team downstairs. A lot of our agents are still reeling from the Mind Recovery efforts. My experience has value there.”

“Ah, well, Dr. Blackwell will get what she wants.” Truman said. “Would you be willing to update us on the medical team’s status as a project lead?”

“If you like.”

“Milla, how’s the construct coming?”

“I have it mostly completed,” she replied. “And I wanted to present an additional proposal if I may.”

Truman gestured for her to go on.

“The warehouse we intend to bait Hornblower to for this duel is surrounded by dense forest. I know that isolating him from his bombs and the support of his co-conspirators is the point of choosing this remote location, but I am concerned about ambush. I suggest we seed the woods with agents and local police to secure the area, both to keep Hornblower’s allies out and to possibly engage him should something go wrong.”

Otto cocked his head. “Are you nervous about being able to apply the construct on site?”

She breathed through her nose again and chose her words carefully. “It will be a stressful situation. I am still recovering from recent events. I simply want to ensure success in as many ways possible.”

“I’ll look into options,” Truman said. “But Milla, we have full faith in your skills, here. Just do your best.”

Milla clasped her hands and nodded. “To finish my report, I’d like to give an update on Mr. Webb. I have scheduled interview times with him throughout the day, so keep an eye out for your appointment. Some of you may have spoken to him already. Has anyone had their interview yet?”

The crowd shook their heads. Otto crossed his arms. “Nor do I intend to.”

“Agent Mentallis,” Truman warned.

“It’s a waste of time,” he said. “I have a terrorist-action-prevention gadget to perfect. If he wants to know my side of the story he can read my report.”

“I’m afraid the CIA does not work like that,” Truman said. “You’re interviewing with him and you’re walking the party line about it. Understood?”

“At least that will make it brief,” Otto groused.

Dr. Cao frowned. “Who is Mr. Webb?”

“A thorn in our side,” Sasha lilted.

“He’s a very nice man,” Milla said. “He is in a bit over his head, but he’s not investigating with any personal agenda. Just the regular amount of Non-Psychic suspicion and strong sense of duty.”

“I’m not sure if that’s better or worse,” Compton whinged.

“Regardless, you will all be receiving an appointment time in your mailboxes today. That will now include Zhi as well, I’m afraid,” Milla said. “Please be gentle with Mr. Webb. Don’t forget that we are the senior staff, so we represent the ruling body of this organization. Our testimony will factor heavily into his report and if we don’t want to lose the Motherlobe as a home base, we need to cooperate.”

Otto sat a little straighter. “He’s not taking my lab.”

“He is if we make ourselves look suspicious enough,” Milla said with a disciplinarian smile. “Remember, Psychics are friends of the people. We are pleasant and helpful and – with one notable exception – not at all capable of demintistrating nearly one-million innocent people over the course of four days.”

“Hmph.” Truman deactivated the center console and stepped back from the table. “That covers all the major talking points. If there’s nothing else to be shared?”

The crew shook their heads.

“Then update me with important developments. See you all here at the same time tomorrow.”

The team leaders dispersed back to their projects and the Grand Head floated up to his office. Raz and Lili hung back for their own post-meeting meeting.

”Well?” Raz whispered in Lili’s head. “Anything for Hollis after that?”

“Dad was just being Dad,” Lili replied. “That tone he used was classic ‘I caught you sneaking out of your room last night’ Dad voice. He’s trying to keep everybody on task.”

“So you’re not worried?”

“Not as much as I was. Not now that I know he has a reason”

“You didn’t bring up the potential leak.”

“I want to do some more research before I mention any of that. Lili thought. See if anyone around here’s putting up any red flags.

“Hello, children.” Milla interrupted their mental conversation with her physical arrival. “How do you feel about your first official mission briefing?”

“I thought we did great!” Lili said.

“I thought you did, too,” Milla smiled and handed Raz a folded note. “I thought I’d deliver this one personally. I’ve scheduled your interview with Mr. Webb for this afternoon, but because you are a minor I don’t want you meeting with him alone. You should bring a chaperone with you.”

“A chaperone?”

“I’m happy to assign you someone, but If you would like to choose your own, the option is open. As long as they are over eighteen and were not present on the Fanrong mission. Just let me know if you still need one before the scheduled time.”

“Okay.” Raz considered the slip of paper. “Should you really be managing Webb, Ford, AND the construct? It seemed like the Grand Head was keeping you on a tight leash.”

“He’s keeping my partner on a tight leash,” Milla said, unenthusiastic. “Sasha’s mind wanders when he’s stressed.”

Raz recalled Milla’s shift during Otto’s report. Sasha wasn’t the only one feeling pressured. “I’m sorry people keep bringing up the Mind-storm. I can tell you don’t like it.”

She sighed. “It is what it is. I can only blame myself, but I confess that it’s difficult to devote so much energy to making a positive change in the world, only to be defined by your moments of sorrow.”

“I don’t think it’s like that!” Raz pressed. “You’re the Mental Minx! The whole world knows how powerful you are, everyone here just wants to make sure you're okay, too.”

"That's right!" Lili confirmed. "We're here for you, Milla! Just like you're always here for us."

She smiled, this time warm and wide enough to narrow her eyes. “Thank you, sweetie. And you know I always will be. Good luck with your research. I can’t wait to see what you children turn up next!”

Raz beamed. “We won’t let you down!”

“Thank you, darlings. Neither will I.”

Chapter Text

“Me? Chaperone?” Ford wheezed a laugh and flipped another pancake onto the griddle.”You’re makin’ a big mistake, son.”

“Milla said I needed a chaperone and it needed to be someone who wasn’t in China for the mission,” Raz said. “I know you were spying on us, but you weren’t actually THERE so you’re the only one I can ask.”

“I’m on the books as a crackpot and a mental hazard,” Ford said. “Three weeks of sanity does not a reliable resource make.”

“You’re not even being interviewed!” Raz said. “You’re just there to make sure he doesn’t hit me with a phone book.”

“Oh my,” Nona gasped.

“Besides, it’ll give you a chance to file an official Psychonauts report on your findings!” Raz pressed.

“For the last time, I’m not interested in being an active agent again. I’m too old.”

“You wear your Psychonauts uniform every day of your life.”

“Old people like routine.”

“Ford!” Raz whined.

Ford rolled his eyes and flipped the pancake onto a plate. “Why don’t you ask your dad to chaperone? He’s psychic. He wasn’t there.”

“And let him find out exactly what I did overseas? Not on your life,” Raz said. “He thinks I’m learning to bend spoons and juggle bowling pins.”

“Oh nonsense,” Ford said. “It’ll be a bonding experience for you.”

“If by bonding you mean grounding, then yes because it’ll definitely be a grounding experience the minute Mom finds out what I’ve been up to. Even worse when she finds out my siblings were involved.”

“Ask some other agent, then. The whole building wasn’t overseas.”

“Crully,” Nona said with a plaintiff rasp. “Help the boy out, will you?”

He brushed the idea aside. “It’ll help him more if I stay out of it.”

“Excuses,” she insisted. “You owe him. And the family. Only reason they don’t like Psychics is because of you. He comes to ask you for help and you say ‘no’ after doing all that? Have backbone.”

“I’m not who you remember me as,” he insisted. “I’m a janitor. And a sailor. And a barber sometimes. I’m a chef currently, and I’m almost done with your pancakes. Wouldn’t you rather eat pancakes then take Razputin’s side against me?”

“Help. The. Boy,” Nona thumped her fist on the counter. “Are you a man or a mouse?”

“Lucy…”

“Don’t ‘Lucy’ Me!” She huffed. “I am war criminal! I am old feeble woman. You are able-bodied Psychic grown man. Stand up!”

“UGH!” Ford groaned aloud. “But I don’t want to!”

“Too bad.” Nona sniffed, nose in the air. “I won’t eat pancakes unless you do it.”

“But…” he gestured desperately to the griddle. “None of them?”

“Feed to squirrels.”

“Squirrels? You wound me!”

“Feed to squirrels and rabbits. I eat no pancakes unless you help the boy.”

“Fine, Lucy, you drive a hard bargain.” He set the full plate in front of her. “Eat your pancakes.”

“Oh goodie!” Nona tucked a napkin in her collar and gripped her fork. “I love your pancakes, Crully.”

“I love your pancakes, too,” Ford said. He cast Raz a withering look. The Junior Psychonaut drummed his fingers on the counter, gloating as little as possible, but still very purposefully doing it. Ford slid him a plate with a single pancake, a sign of respect for a fellow duelist who’d successfully won the day.

After lunch they walked Nona back to the camp. Ford still wasn’t accepted by the bulk of them, although Mirtala was coming around. Regardless, he preferred to keep a safe distance. Raz didn’t blame him. He was impressed his mom even let her mother-in-law back in after the whole Maligula thing.

The Aquato family was doing their stretches. Donatella walked the perimeter of the campfire circle as Augustus, Dion, Mirtala and Queepie ran through a series of splits and lateral bends Raz knew all too well. Dion bristled when he saw Ford at the edge of the camp, then even more when he saw Raz. The oldest brother rose to a handstand and back-bended away into the nearest tent. Raz summoned his courage and took his Nona’s hand. He was going to have to confront them sooner or later, at least now he had Mr. Webb’s appointment as an excuse to leave.

“Ah! My little Pootie,” Donatella cooed like curdled milk. “Gone for how long this time? A month?”

With all the weird timezone shifts, Raz honestly wasn’t sure. He bit his lip. “Not a month.”

“And was it to go overseas? After your mother specifically told you not to go?” Donatella continued in the same tone.

“I… uh…”

“First he runs away from home, then he moves to a stuffy office building, then he leaves the country…” Donatella said. “Next you’ll want to take your picture off the posters. You’ve grown too big for circus life.”

“He didn’t leave the country.” Frazie manifested from a nearby tree. “He was at the Psychic Dorms with us. We were staying there.”

“We are not talking about that!” Donatella shushed her. “You and Dion are grounded from that place for the rest of the week! You do not make sleepovers without your mother’s permission. Your father was worried sick.”

Augustus paused mid-hamstring stretch to glance, baffled, between Frazie and Raz.

“I would ground you, too, if I felt like I could,” Donatella told her middle son. “Obviously at ten years old, your mother’s opinion doesn’t matter.”

“Pootie asked permission,” Nona said, intention clear although her arms were still shaking. “I gave him permission so he could do his job. You’re just old-fashioned stick in the mud.”

”I am?” Donatella was appalled. “Who has spent every year of his life struggling to keep him alive? All the tumbles he’s taken. The family enemies. Flying tomatoes. His mother is the one who looks out for him, not these Psychic slave drivers dragging boys off to dangerous missions.”

“They aren’t slave drivers!” Raz said. “They’re peacekeepers! It’s important work and I’m actually really proud to be helping with it.”

“Proud, he says,” Donatella scoffed. “Proud to read palms and curse your enemies?”

“Proud to do good in the world,” Raz replied.

“Bah,” Donatella dismissed.

Augustus rose from the ground, stretching his back. “That’s very noble of you, son. It’s a sign of character to want to help out.”

Raz’s spirits lifted in spite of his mother’s skeptical stare.

His dad knelt to meet both Raz and Nona face to face. Lucy was not Marona – she was his aunt, not his mother – but she was still the one who raised him and as Augustus took her arthritic hand from Raz, he could tell there was still love there. Nona beamed at Augustus, so proud she could pop.

He patted her hand and frowned sidelong at Raz. “I know you weren’t in your dorm.”

Raz gulped. “You do?”

“Psychic connection, remember?”

“Oh. Yeah. Right.”

“I did not tell your mother,” Augustus thought. “I want you to stay with the people who support and accept you for what you are, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to choose them over us. You can have both.”

Doubt kicked Raz in the throat. It was alarming and unwelcome. “I tried. You said ‘no’”

“No to dangerous missions, not ‘no’ to the whole thing. Life is about compromise. We don’t want you to get hurt”

Raz thought about the cracks in the floor of his mind. If he had obeyed his parents and stayed home, he would have avoided those injuries. His mind wouldn’t have been severed in Lowha Lasung. His psyche wouldn’t have been stretched from Fanrong to who knows where. He wouldn’t have seen so many bodies… He gulped. “I came back fine.”

“And what about next time?”

“Next time I’ll be fine, too,” Raz said. “I’m a Psychonaut. I can handle it.”

Augustus’s face tightened. “Please, just be careful.”

“We are having Grulovian Borscht for dinner, Razputin,” Donatella announced, splitting what to her had become a long, awkward, silence. “You are welcome to join us, if it’s something you want.”

“I actually have a kind of important assignment right now,” Raz said. He made brief, loaded eye contact with his father. “But I’ll try.”

“Good. I will make your favorite biscuits,” Donatella said. It was a threat not a bribe.

Raz bit his lip and nodded. He scanned the camp for a sign of Frazie, intending to exchange significant looks, but she was gone again. She must be making herself scarce for more reasons than just him. His guts knotted up, he could search for her, but it was time for his interview. He sucked his teeth. “I gotta go.”

“Of course! How dare I expect more than five minutes of my son’s time,” Donatella said.

“No I actually GOTTA go. I have an appointment.”

Donatella leaved a long dramatic sigh. “Do as you like, Razputin. I will keep your dinner warn for you should you ever wish to return to the poor family who has sacrificed so much for you.”

His shoulders were tight, he felt bad about it, but his mother’s grousing only made him want to leave faster. “Bye.”

“Hi-Bye, Raz!” Mirtala called, upside down.

He managed a smile for her. “Hi-Bye, Tala. Hi-Bye, Queepie.”

“Hi-Bye, Traitor,” Queepie chirped.

Chapter Text

Raz joined Ford on the forest path, his head and heart in conflict over his parents and his job. Why was every aspect of his life so horribly complicated? Why couldn’t his mom and dad just let him save the world for a minute before demanding he split time?

Ford noted his expression as he approached. “Trouble?”

“Always,” Raz said. “Are you backing out as my chaperone?”

“And endure Lucy’s emotional wrath? Not a chance.”

At least there was something Ford was more scared of than himself. “Tell me. Do you think Mom and Dad were right to try and keep me home? The China mission WAS really dangerous. Even Sasha and Milla said they wished I hadn’t been so involved.”

“It’s none of my business what either of your sets of guardians think,” Ford said. “Remember, I threw you mind and body into the jaws of a lake monster and you came out knowing how to shield against projectiles so I’m a big fan of the more hands-on method.”

Raz snorted a laugh. Linda was probably the mildest example of Ford’s environmental teaching methods. “Are you ready to go?”

“Ready as I can be,” Ford sighed. “Just do me a favor and don’t take me on a grand-tour the old stomping ground. I’m going back for your sake, not to get a lecture from Bob’s nephew about stuff I can’t change.”

“I’m not interested in that, either.”

“Good. Where’s this Webb guy’s office?”

“I think Truman put him in the mail room.”

“Ugh. That’s a place I know almost TOO well.” Ford’s eyes unfocused a touch – the only sign that he was engaging his deeply specialized psychic power.

The Teleportation affinity was something only a few Psychics had. It made Ford both powerful and dangerous to friends and enemies alike. Ford could teleport his body to any place, and teleport his mind to any one without needing a Psi-Portal. Raz wondered if Otto used him as a model when he made them. He could also teleport other people a certain distance with or without his presence, which was really convenient when Raz had to bounce back to hsi sanctuary with a backpack full of other people’s brains. There were limits, though. From what Raz understood, Ford could get from the Motherlobe to Whispering Rock by himself no problem, but getting himself AND someone else the same distance was beyond his limit. Considering his Teleportation skill was doubtlessly enhanced by the Astralathe, if Ford couldn’t do it, it probably couldn’t be done at all.

In a blink Ford and Raz were standing in the Motherlobe’s mailroom. The place was as bustling and noisy as ever. Crisscrossing conveyor belts shifted packages about the ceiling, and dropped them layer by layer until they flopped off into waiting hydraulic tubes. Ford watched the machinery clinking and clunking with a sigh. “Automation. Nobody believes in the personal touch anymore.”

“Agent Cruller?” Lori, the temporary postmaster, bolted out of her office in astonishment. A couple weeks ago, a muddled Ford had given her a barber-pole style haircut. Now it was crowned by brown roots. “I can't believe you're here! Back in the mail room! Where you made your mark!”

Raz personally thought Ford made his mark in Grulovia, but everyone had a different yardstick. The Ex-Grand Head brushed lint off his knitted uniform. “Don't believe everything you read in the history books.”

“Have you returned to claim your title?” Lori asked with baited breath. “Postmaster General?”

“No, I am just here as a supervisor. You're doing a great job.”

“Oh thank you! Thank you, sir!” Lori said. “Could you… maybe talk to the Grand Head Zanotto and recommend that I stay on permanently? A senior staff position…I've always dreamed…”

“I think your work speaks for itself,” Ford said. “Carry on.”’

“Of course, sir! Yes sir!” Lori saluted.

Ford cast Raz an incredulous look, as if the interaction was all the proof he needed that returning to the Motherlobe was a mistake. Raz thought it proved the opposite and said it with a smirk. The two approached the storage door next to the giant ventilation fan where Truman had established Mr. Webb’s CIA headquarters. Raz had been in the tiny room before – well, he'd sent a paper-flat Archetype construct in before – but he hardly recognized it in its current state. An old wartime-looking green metal desk had been wedged through the door and sat facing outward with four folding chairs assembled around. A filing cabinet and a stack of cardboard banker’s boxes filled the back wall. The room was lit by an overhead flood and a single table lamp with no lampshade. Truman might have been willing to play ball with the government, but he obviously wasn't excited about it.

Webb was seated behind the desk, working on a boxy little briefcase laptop and surrounded by a debris field of Noodle Bowl to-go boxes and empty coffee mugs. Paperwork and library books cluttered the floor on all sides of his chair. His suit jacket hung on a ruler which he’d pinned to the top of the filing cabinet with the library’s copy of “Psychic Affinities and Specialties.”

Webb stood as Raz and Ford entered, straightening his tie and extending his hand to Ford first. “Salutations. You must be – ” He checked a note on his desk. “Razputin Aquato. A pleasure to meet you, sir. I promise this won't take long.”

Ford’s eyes sparked with a sly look at his companion. For a split second, Raz considered pulling the ruse off – if Ford was down for it, Webb would never guess the difference – but Raz couldn't think of a good reason to continue lying to the government apart from his own amusement. The case was complicated enough already.

“I'm actually Razputin.” Raz went on tiptoe to extend his hand over the desktop. “Pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Webb.”

Webb's eyebrows rose. He pivoted his whole body to shake Raz's hand. “I thought you were a figment of my imagination.”

“I was for a while.”

“And is this your grandfather?”

Ford pouted. “In a way.”

Webb was satisfied. “Well, it’s good to meet you, too, sir. I see by the uniform you’re also a Psychonaut. I'm glad to see it, actually. It clears up a question I had about how a child this age could be an employee of this company.”

“He's a very powerful Psychic,” Ford said. “Child prodigies like Raz are at risk if left unsupervised. Razputin's home life was not supporting his Psychic growth. The Psychonauts prioritize uplifting the young and giving them tools to manage their powers while they're still developing. It makes them better Psychics and turns them into valuable members of the broader society.”

“That's a good thing, since on paper it looks like you're training child soldiers,” Webb said. “This Whispering Rock Training Camp is a point of concern. Kids as young as five?”

“It’s a summer camp, not a training camp,” Raz said.

Webb offered them a seat. “Tell me more.”

Raz did so with conviction. “Whispering Rock is an important part of the Psychonaut program! It teaches kids to how to safely use their powers and gives them tons of outdoor activities for betterment of both their bodies AND their minds.”

“I see you feel quite strongly. An alumnus?” “Last summer,” Raz said, proudly. “And the incentive to attend this camp is access to these media “superstars” Nein and Vodello.” Webb flipped through his notebook. “And some guy named Oleander who has a psychotic flag on his file.”

“Morceau Oleander was given a thorough examination and has since passed all the required clearances,” Ford said.

Webb gave Ford fresh attention. “You seem to be well informed about it.”

“I signed the paperwork.”

“So you're paper-work qualified.” He tilted his head. “I didn't catch your name, Mr… Aquato?”

“Cruller.”

“Cruller.” Webb flipped through his notebook again. “That's familiar.”

“He's the greatest leader the Psychonauts ever had!” Raz beamed up at Ford who refused to make eye contact. “He's the hero of the battle of Grulovia, and the first leader of the Psychonauts even before they had government funding. He recruited all the founding agents and saved the world like fifty times.”

“Thats quite a reputation,” Webb said.

“You don't have to ask us. It's all public record.” Raz fished in his bag with a mental fist and retrieved his stack of magazines. “Straight from the pages of True Psychic Tales.”

Webb made a note of the titles. “Looks like a comic book.”

“It's a nonfiction graphic periodical.” Raz tapped the cover on top of his stack – issue 85, ‘The Deluge of Grulovia.’ “Everything in here actually happened. Or, I guess it’s what people believed actually happened. It's not what actually happened anymore.”

“I see.”

“I'm… sure they'll print a follow up story sometime soon. You know, whenever they check their submission inbox.” Raz tucked the books away. “They're real enough, though! Based on true stories.”

“Based on.”

“Yeah, based on.”

“Ahem.” Ford crossed his arms. “You promised this would be quick?”

“Yes.” Webb returned to his laptop. “I'm verifying what happened with the brain bombs in Fanrong and Buxing, China. And also Azaroso, Argentina; Labria, Algeria; Malaquie, Australia; and whatever other places explode in the future. Can you give me an account of your movements over the past couple days?”

“Yeah, um…” Raz sorted his words carefully. Truman said tell the truth with no embellishments. He tried to be as dry as possible. “I got on the plane.”

“The Albatross.”

“No, the Pelican.”

“The Pelican.” Webb sounded more interested. Raz's hackles went up. “So you were with the special project team, then?”

“You interviewed Agent Nein already?”

“I interviewed Agent Oleander,” Webb said. “He was on his way to Australia so I had to squeeze him in.”

“What did he say?”

“That interview is over. It’s your turn now.” Webb folded his hands on the desk. “Just give me a rundown of what you said and did.”

“I uh… I was on the plane.”

“Yes?”

“And we were flying to China.”

“Yes.”

“One of the Mind Bombs went off when we were in the air,” Raz said. “Milla was meditating when it happened, so she was able to tell us right where it was. We landed and investigated. Then we took off again and went south…”

“To the monastery.”

Raz’s heart sank. Oleander really had shared the whole sequence of events. Ford heaved a long sigh, apparently dying of boredom. Raz gave up. “We went to the monastery for a fighting specialist, which we got. Then we went to Fanrong where I transferred to Agent Mentallis’s department to help the victims there. I wasn’t in Azaroso or Labria. I definitely wasn’t in Australia. I spent the time in China putting loose minds back into their own bodies.”

“And how is that done exactly?”

“Look up the words “Mental Lasso” and stop wasting our time,” Ford said. “Human minds aren’t as securely attached as you might hope they are. I’m sure you’ve met a person here and there who’s come a little loose. I could knock YOU loose if you wanted me to show you how it’s done.”

Webb’s eyes bugged. “You what?”

“Sure. All I gotta do is put a Lasso around your head. Yank you free. You could see what life looked like as a ghost. You’ve always been curious about that, right?”

“I mean… no. Not like, regularly?” Webb swallowed hard. “Don’t you have to be dead to be a ghost?”

“It’s an Astral Projection.” Raz tapped a paper on the desk. “Write that down, too.”

“Don’t worry, I can put a little string on you and reel you back,” Ford said.

“If he’s not out of range,” Raz added.

Ford wagged a finger at him. “Quite right. If you’re not out of range.”

Webb went a little pale. “What happens if I’m out of range?”

“Then you drift off into space,” Ford said. “Up into the atmosphere where you’ll dissipate like chemtrails spread in the air.”

“And die,” Raz added.

“Yes, then you’d definitely die.”

Webb bit his lip. “The Psychonauts… do that kind of thing?”

“No, but the Psychic terrorist we’re hunting does,” Raz said.

“Codename Hornblower,” Webb confirmed. “He’s dissipating people?”

“Dementistrating people,” Raz corrected.

“Now that just sounds silly.”

“It’s not silly when you’re sleeping in your bed at night and suddenly find yourself flying through the sky,” Raz said. “Or tumbling under the ground. When you don’t have a body, nothing can stop you from going in any direction at all.”

“Wow. Okay,” Webb went even paler. He cleared his throat. “Was… uh… was there anything else you wanted to share with me?”

“Nope, that about covers it!” Raz grinned.

“Fine. I have a lot of work to do. I may contact you later for some follow-up questions Agent Aquato.”

“Raz is fine.”

“Raz, then.” Webb shook each of their hands again. “Thank you for your time.”

Raz and Ford excused themselves and headed around the corner toward the Atrium, sharing a little fist bump one they’d passed out of view. An old man was standing on the overflow landing, wearing sweatpants, no shoes, and a withering expression. “Cruller.”

Ford stopped and returned the glare. “Pergola.”

Raz went rigid with a shuffle of emotions – shock, distress, anger. He decided to stick with anger. “What are you doing up here?”

Pergola ignored him. “Your agent told me you weren’t with us anymore.”

“Not with the Psychonauts.” Ford clarified.

“I was hoping you were dead.”

Ford crossed his arms. “That’s a little severe don’t you think? ”

“I see you’ve grown senile and forgotten what you did to me.”

Raz stowed his anger for later and started taking mental notes.

“What I did to YOU? How about what YOU did to ME?” Ford demanded. “I came to you for help and you teleported me into naked air off the side of a mountain.”

“Wait a sec!” Raz interrupted. “HE teleported YOU?”

Pergola’s ample eyebrows leveled into a shelf. “I am a Telekinetic.”

“Oh don’t be obtuse,” Ford said. “You were born as a Teleporter. You’re a Teleporter.”

“I am as I said was,” Pergola sniffed. “Teleporting can take you many places, but it cannot get you anywhere you haven’t already been.”

“We both know that’s not true,” Ford said.

“In any case, you deserved it,” Pergola said. “You manipulated me. You stole from me.”

“Oh come off it, Agrippa. You know why I did it,” Ford said. “It was for Lucy. My girl. She needed your help.”

“No, she needed YOUR help. She had nothing to do with me.”

“Wait, Nona’s in this too?” Raz asked, reeling. “Ford!”

“Later, Razputin,” he bade. “Auggie, it was twenty years ago. You moved on, I moved on. Let’s just leave it be, okay?”

“I have done one better than that,” Pergola scoffed. “I burned you out of my mind.”

“Burned me out?”

“That connection you used to get into my head? That doorway established through friendship and training? I burned it in the Crucible – with mental torches, and ice, and acid. I destroyed every scrap of you left in my mind so that you could not return to me even if you tried. I’ve tempered myself into purity. You mean nothing to me anymore.”

“From where I’m standing now, sounds like I still mean a great deal,” Ford said. “At least enough for you to nurse this grudge for literal decades.”

Pergola’s nostrils flared. “Do not come to find me. Do not come into my mind. Do not be anywhere near me, do you understand?”

“Sure, Auggie, happy to do it, but you understand something, too,” Ford said. “Interconnection is more than just minds entering minds. We forge relationships through interaction, affection, even proximity. Connections give us depth and breadth of experience. If you peek into the Collective Unconscious, you might find some of those doors you thought you burned off grew back when you weren’t looking.”

Pergola threw up his hands and vanished with a sucking noise that Raz felt in his ears. Raz stared at Ford. “Start talking.”

The old man sighed. He sank on his knees like a decompressing piece of machinery, then popped back up. “You want ice cream?”

Raz took a double take. “Huh?”

Ford resumed his march toward the Atrium. “Let’s go get ice cream!”

Chapter Text

The soft serve machine in the Noodle Bowl was a Junior Psychonaut favorite. It had chocolate, vanilla, and twist options, and enough toppings to fill a ten year-old heart’s desire. Which is why, even with the drama of the interrogation before him, Raz fixed himself a massive sprinkle and hot fudge sundae to dig into while he glared at Ford across the cafeteria table.

Ford by contrast chose a simple vanilla cone with a spoon in it.

“So.” Raz maintained eye contact as he took another spoonful of sprinkles. “Spill.”

Ford groaned again. He hadn’t stopped since the Lumberstack, but after encountering Pergola it was a constant. “As you probably figured, I didn’t start my Psychic career as a park ranger. I started as an explorer. Being a Teleporter, you have a lot of opportunity to travel. I circled the whole world. Visiting psychoactive locations and observing Psitanium craters on all sides of the globe.”

“Which is how you found the Questionable Area,” Raz finished for him. “When’d you meet Pergola?”

“Auggie and I met in Europe. We were young men. Both Psychic. Both Teleporters. You know how rare it is to run into another Teleporter in the wild? Anyway, we fell in together straight off. He’d been all along the Mediterranean already and spent a summer showing me places he knew where Psitanium had been incorporated into temples and promenades. It was a glimpse into the past, and a promise for the future…a great couple of months for two strapping young men with no need for train tickets.”

“If you were such good friends, why didn’t he come with you to Green Needle Gulch?”

“I wouldn’t call us GOOD friends,” Ford scratched his neck. “We fell out way before I got to the gulch.”

“But you mentioned Lucy.”

“Hey now, you’re getting ahead of me,” Ford said. “You gotta understand somethin’ about Teleportation. There’s two parts to the thing… being in a location and not being in a location. I have devoted my whole life to the former: seeing places, being present, experiencing what it means to exist. Auggie, well, he lived for the latter. He loved the freedom of being between spaces. Of not being anywhere. Not even BEING. We finally broke company after a visit to a Psilirium deposit in Nepal where he learned about a cloister of monks in the Himalayan mountains that devoted their lives to separating themselves not just from the wider world but from reality itself. The soul temper he is so proud of is an isolating measure. “Winnowing the connection between the mind and the body down to a thread” is just a poetic way of alienating yourself from anything that ties you to the real world. Agrippa wanted to live in the in-between forever and once I knew that, I couldn’t follow him around anymore. I wasn’t willing to give up this amazing world we live in for the sake of enlightenment and power. Where’s the joy in that?”

“Tempering makes him more powerful?” Raz asked.

“It’s a singularity of mind,” Ford replied. “Focusing on one thing so hard that you erase everything else. That dedication can make you a very powerful Psychic as long as you’re being tested on the aspect you’ve honed. He says he’s a Telekinetic now. I assume that is because he rejected his reliance on Teleportation until it atrophied away.”

“But we just saw him do it.”

“Well, unfortunately for him it’s a part of his DNA. It’s who he is. How he was grown.” Ford shrugged. “That’s why his monks dedicate their lives to tempering themselves. It’s a full-time job to suppress what you were born to be anyway. Every thought that enters his head needs to be sorted, incorporated, or destroyed. He’ll never be rid of hs Teleportation, just like Lucy will never be rid of Maligula. Both are just buried deeper now, that’s all.”

“Did Pergola know Lucy?”

“No, he didn’t know her. Lucy didn’t enter my life until years after we parted ways. He only knows about her because of the Maligula troubles.” Ford’s face fell. “After the governments of the world came to us for help, I knew I had to find some way to avoid putting Lucy to death. We’ve discussed all this already, and I don’t think either of us will mind if I don’t retread the events of those days, but before I decided to use the Astralathe to manipulate her mind, I explored less… destructive strategies. Hypnosis. Therapies. Even soul tempering, which I remembered from that time Auggie and I spent together. I Teleported to Lowha Lasung using the connection Agrippa and I still shared. I wanted a look at his sacred books to see if tempering could disconnect the Maligula persona from the Lucy one I knew was still in there. He refused to show me anything unless I joined his monastic order and gave up my connections to the rest of the world. Of course I couldn’t do that. I had Maligula to deal with, but I also had all my friends, and my home, and the beautiful places I’d come to love. So I turned him down, but I couldn’t leave without investigating the soul temper, so I waited until he was asleep and I teleported into his mind to see for myself.”

“You stole the knowledge from him,” Raz said. “That’s what he was talking about.”

“It wasn’t hard for me to find,” he said. “Agrippa’d destroyed nearly everything in his head that didn’t apply to his philosophy. His surface world was stark and empty. I followed the only clear path straight to the information I needed, but as you’ve experienced first hand at Whispering Rock, even an unconscious mind can sense a foreign body inside of it. Pergola caught me in there and booted me out. When I woke up, my body was already falling toward the rocks on the other side of his mountin. He wouldn’t let me back into the temple after that.”

“He tried to kill you!”

“I’m sure he knew I’d beam out the moment I realized I was in danger.” Ford heaved another sigh. “I never did get a look at his library or see his meditation methods. I went back home to my forest and the people I loved… well, all but Lucy.”

Raz took another melting scoop of his sundae as the former Grand Head sat in quiet reflection. The spoon slipped free of Ford’s soggy cone and the ‘pink’ of the metal jarred him to the present.

Raz pressed his lips into a meager smile. “I know it’s hard to go back to that time. Thanks for telling me about it.”

He took a little heart. “The world is a wide and marvelous place, Razputin. The mental world is as well. Each mind is shaped by what the owner sees and experiences in their lives. Those experiences have value – both the good and the bad – and we can share them with each other by forming relationships. The people we love, the moments we pass, the dreams we pursue all weave together into a rich unique tapestry that could never be duplicated. Sure, sometimes we can direct how it presents itself through meditation or tempering or mental construction, but what happens beneath our consciousness… that’s the real us. And it’s a shame to destroy that for any reason, especially when you’re doing it to yourself. Like ruining a priceless work of art or burning down an old forest. Some things are too precious to waste. That’s the essence of what being a Psychonaut really is – seeing people from the inside, knowing who they really are and where they’ve come from, and helping them if they need it. Not to make them something they’re not, but to make them the best versions of who they were already. It’s an honor and a privilege and not one to take lightly. You understand that, right?”

Raz understood. It was the same lesson he’d learned when he overstepped the boundaries of Hollis’s mind his first day. Respecting minds was the difference between a Psychonaut and a Psychic villain… a line Raz was determined never to walk again. He floated a clean bowl from the buffet and used it to catch Ford’s drooping ice cream. “When you were in Pergola’s mind, did you get a look at the book of Lars Arcana?”

“His mental version, yeah.”

“Did you see what was in it?”

“Not much. Just enough to realize his religion wasn’t what I was looking for.”

“Because Hornblower stole the book while we were in Lowha Lasung,” Raz said. “Pergola was really mad when he realized it was missing. That’s a big reason why he agreed to come with us – to get his book back.”

“The Lowha Lasung monks believe Lars Arcana was the only person ever to possess a perfectly tempered mind, therefore his experience is the only clue they have to acquiring one themselves,” Ford said. “If you lived your whole life trying to assemble a jigsaw puzzle, how angry would you be when some jerk breaks into your house and steals the lid off the box?”

“Mad enough to give up ever finishing the puzzle at all?” Raz asked. “Because that’s what Pergola’s done. He says he can’t go back.”

“You’ve seen why that is, yourself,” Ford said. “He’s reentered the world now. His mind is now full of planes and training gyms and mail rooms and everything else. He’d have to spend years burning all that stuff out of his head, and then even more after this whole training camp with Agent Nein. The two of them are forging a connection right so significant that Pergola’s only reserved it for his fellow monks. They’ll be tied together forever – or until one of them dies at least, which Pergola’s likely to do before he gets back to the level of curation he had before you all arrived.”

Raz wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that. Sasha learning Weaponkinesis from him was one thing, but to be connected forever? It gave him the creeps. “If Pergola were younger would they let him come back?”

“I really don’t know,” Ford turned his melted ice cream upside down into the waiting bowl and popped the cone off to take a big bite. “Frankly it’s none of my business. You heard him, he’s burned me out of his mind. I’m sure it’s taken years and years of concentration.”

“That we just undid in like, two minutes.”

“Oh way before that,” Ford snorted. “A Teleporter knows what teleportation feels like. He started thinking of me the second he arrived here on campus. Probably felt me moving around the Questionable Area, that is… assuming he hasn’t thought of me constantly for the last twenty years.”

“Holding a grudge is kind of the opposite of a soul temper, huh?”

“Absolutely,” Ford said.

“What about Pergola and Hornblower?” Raz said. “You said being a teacher makes a permanent link. He taught Hornblower how to fight. Think they’re still connected?”

“Eh, that depends. If Auggie’s tellin’ the truth and he destroyed their connection in the Collective Unconscious that's one thing, but if Hornblower used his own tempering to do the same on the other side then it’s possible they’ve been fully estranged at this point. Remembering Horatio exists would reassert him in Pergola’s mind, but it takes two to make a bridge. Like what you’ve been doing with the Mental Lassos and the Looking Glasses and what not. You gotta have a relationship if you’re gonna barge into someone’s mind without a Psi-Portal, otherwise you’d have to pick one door out of the billions floating around and hope its the right one. There’s got to be some part of the other person’s mind that already knows you and draws the two of you together. That's how mental neighborhoods form - the closeness of two people calling out to one another. Some drift in and out over time, but as long as there's a relationship they won't stray too far.”

“Do you think there’s a chance Pergola and Hornblower are in cahoots?”

“Auggie was so protective of his philosophy, he attempted murder… probably more than once. I find it hard to believe he’d stay buddies with someone who abandoned it.”

“Yeah but attempting murder just means he doesn’t believe in the pacifism thing as much as he says he does.”

“Auggie’s not a pacifist. He an apathist,” Ford snorted. “He doesn’t care about peace. He doesn’t care about anything. He wants no part of it.”

“Exactly.” Raz leaned forward. “See, Lili and I were thinking of a theory…”

“Bah! Don’t waste your time with theories,” Ford interrupted. “You start cookin’ up cockamamy stories about ‘what if’s and ‘what not’s and you’ll get all confused. There’s enough goin’ on without wasting mental energy on theories. Stick to the facts, kid. We’re trying to save the world here, after all.”

“WE’RE trying?” Raz cocked an eyebrow. “Like YOU’RE trying? Like a Psychonaut would?”

“Oh hush your mouth,” Ford snorted. “Give me some of your sprinkles.”

He reached across with his spoon and took a huge dollop of whipped cream from the top of Raz’s dish. He didn’t object.

Chapter Text

Raz expected Ford to teleport back to Green Needle Gulch as fast as possible, but was delighted when he proposed checking on Sasha and Milla instead. In light of the emotional jumble the past week had been, seeing the Whispering Rock team back together felt almost normal…. well, the team minus the coach but he was on the spy mission in Australia, so he was probably having the time of his life.

Ford teleported him and Raz from the cafeteria directly to Milla’s meditation room where both superstar special agents were working on their assignments. Sasha was sitting cross-legged on the floor with his fingers deep in his eye sockets. He wore a pair of pink and orange headphones and rotated a collection of Milla’s throw pillows around his head. Milla floated beside him with her eyes closed, but paused every few minutes to add a pillow to his load. Raz counted twelve. Whatever was in the headphones hadn’t breached the prime number barrier yet.

“Hello, darlings!” Milla unfolded her legs, touching down on the carpet from perfect standing height. Sasha was still immersed and didn’t notice. She levitated another pillow at Sasha and gave her guests a warm smile. “Ford. How nice to see you in the Motherlobe again.”

“Eh, it wasn’t my first choice for the afternoon,” Ford said. “How goes the mission?”

Her face fell. “This whole situation is very troubling. I can’t escape the feeling that something deeper is happening. Something closer, but i can’t place it.”

Raz gulped, recalling Truman’s notes on Deluginists and Lili’s suspicions about the leak. “Closer how?”

“I don’t know,” she said, thoughtful. “The ripples of the Mind Bomb are unmistakably distant but there’s an echo somewhere nearer that feels different than the stress and anxiety I’d expect to sense in a situation like this. I wish I could explain it, although we may have to wait for hindsight to pin down the specifics.”

“What about your project?” Ford asked. “The construct?”

She brightened. “Oh! That’s going well! I’m putting on all the finishing touches thanks to Agent Aquato, here.”

Raz blushed. “I was more of a consultant than anything.”

“And what about…” Ford sniffed at Sasha.

The thirteenth pillow had upset the atomic patterns of its fellow satellites. Their nucleus was grimacing as pillows bounced off other pillows. The items went wide and narrow, up and down, fast and slow as Sasha struggled to normalize the pattern. He pulled the headphones off, grabbed his glasses and buried his knuckles in his eyes, but was smacked sidelong by pillow and let the whole mess drop to the floor in frustration.

Milla sighed. “It’s been like that all morning.”

Sasha muttered something in German as he regained his feet. “I can’t figure out what is going wrong! There is only one more!”

“At least you’ve grown accustomed to twelve,” Milla offered. “That’s an improvement from yesterday.”

“I suppose.” He dusted his slacks and cracked his neck. “Ford. Razputin. Any news from your respective sources?”

“Haven’t had time. Someone needed a chaperone.” Ford glared down at Raz who averted his eyes.

“I uh…” He scratched his neck. “I had my interview with Mr. Webb.”

Milla tilted her head. “And how did that go?”

“I tried to be unsuspicious.”

“He scared the pants off him!” Ford wheezed a laugh. “Threatened to dementistrate him in the office and send him floating into space.”

“Razputin!” Milla cried.

“No I didn’t! I just said it was possible!” Raz said. “Everyone knows forced demintistration is illegal.”

“Not to mention rude to guests.” Sasha lit a cigarette. “Anything else from True Psychic Tales?”

“Actually… I wanted to bring up something Lili and I were talking about,” Raz said. “It’s super top secret.”

“He says he has a ‘theory’,” Ford air-quoted.

“Intriguing,” Sasha prompted.

Raz took heart. “Lili’s reopened the case with Gristol Malik. We never discovered who was responsible for brainwashing Loboto and you guys said a strong Psychic had to have done it. Lili thinks there’s a connection between that and what’s happening now. Maybe even the guy who helped spring Hornblower from prison! Or what Milla is sensing in her meditation.”

“A third actor?” Milla asked.

“THAT’S your theory?” Ford cried. “You think this Hornblower plot is a New Thinker, Mentalist, DELUGINIST co-op? You’re pullin’ my leg.”

“It’s hard enough to believe two terrorist organizations are working together, let alone three,” Sasha agreed. “They aren’t generally cooperative.”

“Maybe they’re forming a Legion of Evil?” Raz offered.

“Hah!” Ford coughed. “Only in the comic books.”

Raz’s spirit sank. “You think we’re on the wrong track?”

“On the contrary,” Sasha said. “I’ve been considering something similar.”

“You have?”

“Well, not a Legion of Evil.” He smirked. “More about the proximity of all these events in sequence. After years of minor crises, we have two major events within the same month, not to mention Morry’s timely lapse of sanity. In our line of work, you learn not to trust coincidences.”

“You don’t think the coach could be involved do you?” Raz asked.

“If he was, it was without his knowledge,” Sasha said. “We gave him a thorough go-over after your brain-merging event. The coach may have a strong mental defense, but he’s not terribly reserved in his planning and organization. We found evidence of the entire Brain Tank plot stretching back years, but nothing about Malik and nothing about Maligula. I’m confident he is cleared.”

“Years?” Raz asked, appalled.

“The Brain Tanks were a project he was preparing to present to the Psychonauts for development,” Milla answered. “Truman encourages all of us to pursue independent study, like Morry's done with his falconry project this week. If something we've researched is viable, we can present it to the senior staff for approval and sponsorship. Whispering Rock started that way.”

“So the coach was going to propose Brain Tanks for Psychonaut funding?” Raz cried.

“And BattleBots, and laser guns, and space missiles,” Ford said.

Sasha puffed his cigarette sourly. “Some abuse the privilege.”

“Says the man who petitioned a separate Brain Tumbler for camp,” Ford snorted.

“That was a private purchase, thank you very much.”

“In any case,” Milla redirected. “We determined that utilizing the Thorny Towers site for his secret laboratory was detrimental to his health. The Psitanium radiation in that area is very unsafe. His mental fortitude protected him for the most part, but ingrained a growing sense of paranoia. After Truman turned down his BattleBot plans, he had a mental break that launched during the Thorny Towers Incident.”

“He tried to get Hollis to approve those plans, too,” Raz noted.

“And she disapproved them, as well,” Sasha said.

Milla shook her head. “It's all in the paperwork you received at the end of camp if you want to review it.”’

“But what about Dr. Loboto then?” Raz asked. “Could the coach have put the block on while he was having his mental breakdown and just forgotten it?”

“I admit, it is suspicious that Dr. Loboto was involved in both the Thorny Towers Incident and the Maligula Incident, but I doubt it very much,” Milla replied. “Both Morceau and Caligosto testified to working independently, and certainly not out of any loyalty to one another. Morry was unaware of what was going on in the Rhombus of Ruin and just as concerned and surprised about Maligula as we were. Dr. Laboto admitted to working with Nick Johnsmith after Sasha broke the blockage but didn't implicate the coach, which would have been natural at that point.”

“Besides, Malik knew where Whispering Rock and Thorny Towers were! He was senior staff. Heck, he sorted their mail!” Ford said. “You're graspin' at straws, son.”

“I mean, I don't WANT the coach to be involved in all this, but it had to be SOMEBODY, right?” Raz asked. “I mean, SOMEONE put the Maligula construct in Loboto's head.”

“That is true, and it is good that you recognized it as something we need to look into,” Milla said. “As investigators, we must examine all possible leads, but you can’t let curiosity distract you from your primary assignment. The Hornblower case must take precedent right now, and you have a role to play in that, am I right?”

“Yeah, you're right,” Raz conceded. “Lili was really excited, but I’ll go down to Basement 5 and tell Lili to backburner it. She's down the archives right now pulling out incident reports.”

“Actually, she is in her uncle’s solarium,” Milla replied.

“Oh okay, I’ll go there, then.”

“I’ll accompany you to the elevator,” Sasha announced. “I’m presently scheduled for my first trial by combat.”

Milla's brow knit. “Already?”

“I'm afraid Mr. Pergola does not give me much choice,” Sasha said. “I will just have to avoid the number thirteen for now.”

“Why don’t you go straight to fourteen?” Raz asked.

“That will only lead to seventeen, and then nineteen, and then twenty three.” Sasha soured. “I am trapped in prime number purgatory.”

“I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it, darling.” Milla consoled him. “Better to tackle this here at home than against our real enemy. Perhaps the sparring match will give you new insight.”

He softened. “I hope so.”

“Is it okay if we come watch?” Raz asked.

“You can if you like.”

“Ah, not me.” Ford cracked his knuckles. “Gotta get back. Lumberstack ain’t open when the chef is out.”

Raz cocked an eyebrow. “Does anyone ever come when you ARE open?”.

Ford pursed his lips. “You.”

“Okay that’s fair.”

“I hope you’ll return,” Milla pressed. “You know of course you’re always welcome, and your input has been a valuable addition to the project. You could join the team.”

Ford twitched his mustache with another longsuffering groan.

“Of course we appreciate your assistance in any way it arrives,” Sasha noted.

Milla nodded. “Just don’t feel like you have to be a stranger.”

“Eh…” he slouched dramatically. “I’ll consider it.”

“Lovely,” Milla said.

Ford waved them both off and poofed out of existence. Raz raised his brow to the pair. “Think he’ll be back?”

“I don’t know,” Milla considered. “The decision is his, and we can’t make it for him. The best we can do is assure him that the option remains open and trust that the conclusion he comes to is the best decision for him, no matter what it is.”

“I suppose we will see,” Sasha determined. “Let me know how the construct is progressing. I can make myself available to test it when you’re ready.”

“You concentrate on your lessons,” Milla said. “I’m sure I will have plenty of volunteers when the time comes, right Razputin?”

“Sure!” He noticed Sasha’s posture dip a fraction and backpedaled. “I mean, we’ll both help!”

“Wonderful. I know I can always rely on you two,” Milla said. “I was thinking of proposing a Captain’s Table dinner for tonight. I know we are all very busy, but it will be good for morale. Do you think I should?”

Sasha managed a grin. “It would be something to look forward to.”

“Then there’s no question at all,” Milla said. “I will see you darlings at dinner, perhaps our friend Ford as well, if he can get away.”

“He will, I’m sure of it!” Raz said.

She smiled, but looked doubtful. “Good luck, my darlings. Thank you for your hard work”

“Bye, Milla!” He held the door open for Sasha who tarried a moment with his partner. They exchanged a private thought that ended with her hand on his cheek, then parted without another word spoken.

Chapter Text

Milla said Lili was in Bob’s new office. That was only one floor down and didn’t give Raz a lot of time alone on the elevator with Sasha. One on one chats with Sasha was a treat even when there wasn’t an international super-crisis to deal with, so the minute the doors closed Raz cut right to the chase. “Did you mean what you said about our theory?”

“Your theory that the Deluginists might be involved?” He dragged his cigarette, free hand in his pocket. “I said it was unlikely, so yes.”

“But you said you were thinking of something similar.”

“I’m thinking a lot right now. Best to stay focused.”

Raz gnawed his lip in disappointment, but couldn’t waste the time. “Did you know that Ford and Pergola knew each other in the past?”

“I did.”

“Did he tell you about it before or after we picked Pergola up?”

“Agent Cruller supplied a dossier for our case file. Of course, Ford knowing people in the broader Psychic ecosystem is not particularly significant. He is very well traveled, and has been an ambassador for Psychic-kind both before and after founding the Psychonauts. Even with a fractured mind, he was still a public figure.” Sasha peered down. “You sound suspicious.”

“I mean, I could tell Pergola didn’t like Ford when we met him, but I didn’t know they were like besties. Or that he was a Teleporter. I feel like that’s kind of important,” Raz said. “He knew about Weaponkinesis, too. Did he tell you about that in his report?”

“Ford encountered Weaponkinesis in his soul-tempering exploration, but that portion of his history was blocked from him with the Astralathe along with everything else concerning Lucrecia Mux’s survival and whereabouts. Even then, his encounter with it was brief, although he did provide a summary of it when he shared his experience with Soul Tempering. I alrady knew about Weaponkinesis from researching the undergound dueling rings.”

“Have you ever met anyone who’s used it before now?”

“Not in person, no. It’s not easy to learn, especially when all potential teachers have been killed off.” He puffed the cigarette. “And as for Pergola and his Teleportation, he wasn’t the only one of his brothers to surrender his previous specialties in favor of Telekinesis and the Soul Tempering philosophy. Every man in that monastery was Psychic, as you recall, and arrived with their own affinities. Geokinetics built the monastery. Pyrokinetics kept it warm. Hydrokinetics drew water. Their common goal was to narrow their minds to as fine a point as possible, but you can’t winnow out your DNA as much as they try. I suspect the only reason they took on Telekinesis as their new primary skill was because Lars Arcana was a Telekinetic and they worship him like a god.”

“Who was he?” Raz asked. “Do we know anything about him without that book Hornblower stole?”

“Only what can be found in public records. He was a British colonist back in the early 1800s. Psychic oppression was still the rule of law back then, so he kept his abilities hidden in order to serve in the royal armed forces. That’s where the soul tempering philosophy comes from. He suppressed his Psychic powers through meditation to continue serving undetected and became a driven, dutiful soldier as a result. After becoming an officer and being granted a governnorship in India, he witnessed Psychics in smaller villages using Levitation and Telekinesis to perform their daily tasks. This prompted him to re-examine the potential of his own skills, and he created the discipline of Weaponkinesis as a means of endearing himself and his fellow Psychics back to the British military. Obviously it didn’t work. Psychics weren’t employed by western powers for warfare for another hundred years.”

“That’s why he made the monastery?” Raz asked. “To escape the British government?”

“Once they found out he was a Psychic, he was stripped of all decoration and title,” Sasha confirmed. “And once they found out he was Psychic AND could juggle two-dozen swords with his mind, they really wanted him dead. He vanished to the Himalayas, but he’d honed Weaponkinesis by sparring with local Telekinetics and they continued the practice. That is how, in more recent history, Hornblower was able to use it as a dueling specialty a full continent away from the monastery. Say what you will about the strict rules and arcane philosophy, it is a very effective self-defense and war-making skill for those already gifted in Telekinesis.”

“Or math,” Raz put in.

“Yes, or math.” He puffed his cigarette. “There is SO much math.”

“You like figures and science, are you liking Weaponkinesis? Like, at all? You seem really frustrated.”

“I am.” He finished the smoke and burned the butt in midair. “I would much rather be doing these figures on paper and learning Weaponkinesis as an exploratory discipline in my spare time. The rush to master something this complex is undermining my ability to retain it. After hours with Pergola in the training gym, it’s a relief to fall face first on the floor of my apartment and think of literally nothing.”

Raz cringed. “Is that even possible?”

“For short stints.” Sasha cut half a smile. “You know, it is interesting to examine a specific discipline from the point of view of an opponent who favors it. Hornblower was drawn to this fighting style long before he knew of Lars Arcana or the New Thinkers. There’s something in it that fascinated him, and that is a window to his mind. Understanding how this discipline works and engaging with it myself makes me feel like I’m coming closer to understanding the way his thought patterns may work. Knowing how your opponent thinks is a great asset in the field, not just when in battle, but in every aspect of a mission that’s so tied to one mind.”

It was a relief to hear a bit of curiosity back in his tone. “So you ARE having at least SOME fun.”

The other half of Sasha’s smile appeared. The elevator door ‘ding’ed, revealing the Olympian styles of the Coliseum. Raz had forgotten to punch the button for his floor. Sasha stepped off, but paused when Raz didn’t follow. “Were you coming?”

“I uh… I should probably go get Lili first.”

“Very good. Best to stay on task.”

“Right.” The doors slid closed, Raz shouted through the shrinking gap. “But we’ll be right back! Good luck!”

He rode the car back up to Basement 1, where he dashed up the hall and took the extra lift to Bob’s hallway. Agent’s Zanotto’s office door scanned Raz’s head as he approached, then failed to open. Raz struck it with face-flattening force..

“Ow!”

“Oops!” Lili peeped from the other side. The Thinkerprint scanner overhead flashed green and the door slid aside to reveal her at the wall panel, looking apologetic. “Guess Uncle Bob forgot to give you access.”

“Guess so.” Raz said, nasally.

“Here, I’ll do it. I know he won’t mind.” Lili recovered a handheld Thinkerprint scanner from the top drawer of Bob’s desk. Agent Zanotto was still in the process of moving in, but the desktop was already organized into rows of clipboards and office supplies like a garden of paperwork. Lili held the scanner to Raz’s forehead and took a reading. The gadget beeped. “There you go. You’re approved.”

“What are you doing here, anyway? Did you hack in?”

“Uncle Bob asked me to water his plants while he’s away. I was just finishing up.”

She levitated a watering can out of the running sink. In the short hours Bob was in possession of the solarium, he’d already packed the space full of greenery. The greenhouse windows sparkled with mist. The loamy smell of wet soil hung heavy in the humidity. Lili floatd watering can floated across revitalized vines and flowerbeds, including her propagated clippings which were already taking root.

“Dad said if Uncle Bob decides to stay, maybe I could be his personal assistant and do official gardening for the agency!” Lili said. “I’ve been running lots of experiments on medicinal herbs and mood-absorbing plants like the ones I used on Dad when Dad was really Nick.”

“That would be great!”

“Yeah!” Lili said. “Of course I could only do it over summer… and every other weekend. Mom’s house, you know?”

Raz’s stomach flipped. He knew intellectually that Lili’s parents were divorced, but hadn’t considered what that meant in terms of her sharing her time between two coasts. Away from the Motherlobe. And him. Raz cleared his throat and focused back on business. “Did you find anything in the archives about the Maligula leak?”

“I DID!” Lili raced back to the desk, returned the scanner, and flopped her school bag into the middle of Bob’s neat rows. “I used Dad’s authorization code on the attendant to get at the official Maligula Incident report. I couldn’t bring it with me, but I took pictures until I ran out of film.”

She laid the polaroids out in a line, displaying officially stamped and approved Psychonauts documents. Raz recognized the handwriting samples of Sasha, Milla, Oleander, and Hollis. Truman had signed off on the last page, certifying the case as closed. There was a whole page about the Maligula Block in the report on Loboto’s Mental Navigation and a second page on the huge chore it was for Sasha to dismantle it in his lab afterward. All of Agent Nein’s personal notes were in German, which wasn’t helpful, but the conclusions were handwritten in English. “Psychic Block set by third party. Manifested in Mindscape as Trap Room (see Oleander report 02.) Decay of Template B revealed Thorny Towers/Maligula construct (see Aquato report 01.)” Raz’s heart did a tiny little kickflip at that one. “Conclusion: Loboto hired by Psychonaut infiltrator/Deluginist contact. Male - Possibly. Psychic - Highly Likely.”

“And look at this!” Lili swept the report polaroids aside and laid out new ones. “I pulled Nick Johnsmith’s application forms from personnel. You’ll never guess who approved him for the Mail Room position.”

“Agent 33!” Raz said.

Lili gave him a double-take. “No. Coach Oleander. Where’d you get Agent 33?”

Raz bristled. “You told me to guess.”

Lili lifted the relevant photo. “Agent Morceau Oleander vouched for Nick Johnsmith on his application form. He’s a senior staff member, so his recommendation let Malik bypass the first round of interviews including the brain-scans usually required for promotion to senior positions. Dad signed off on Nick after an in-person interview assuming that the previous steps were taken legitimately, but in the Maligula Incident report Coach says he didn’t meet Nick Johnsmith until he was already hired. Either he was lying or…”

“Someone forged his recommendation letter!” Raz said.

“Bingo!” She grinned. “Look at the handwriting!”

She put a photo of Oleander’s report next to the application form. The samples matched perfectly including the signature, except Oleander’s written report was messier than the referral. Both samples had the same scratchy strokes and the same backward slant. The ink at the beginning of every line of the confirmed handwriting sample was smudged, but there were no smudges on Nick’s application. Raz frowned. “It looks identical to me.”

“Yeah, except the forger forgot the coach was left-handed.” Lili tapped the smudges. “His hand dragged the words as he was writing, but the forger’s hand didn’t. If you weren’t thinking it was a forgery, you’d assume Coach was being careful with the application, but when is Oleander careful about anything?”

“Right. Brute force by default,” Raz agreed. “It does make sense why the hiring office wasn’t tipped-off, though.”

“And Oleander is the perfect patsy for this plot,” Lili confirmed. “Since Malik was working with Loboto, it makes sense he knew about the Brain Tank plot, or at least saw how close Thorny Towers was to Whispering Rock. If the Maligula plan went sideways, Malik and the leak could blame it all on him. Any investigator would buy a story like that.”

“Except we stopped Oleander before they could use him as a scapegoat!” Raz said. “I was just talking to Sasha and Milla and their full mental examination officially cleared Oleander of involvement BEFORE the Maligula plot was even a thing.”

“That may have even escalated Gristol Malik’s plans!” Lili said. “With the Brain Tank plan exposed, Loboto needed a place to hide out anyway. Where better than the Rhombus of Ruin where he was available to do the brain swap with Malik who pulled the trigger on the Maligula plot because further investigation into Oleander would betray his ties to Nick via the recommendation letter.”

“Which is also why he needed my help to reassemble Ford’s mind,” Raz said. “He was running out of time and had to scramble. I’m sure he recognized my name as one of Maligula’s relatives, since Lucrecia went back to Grulovia looking for her sister Marona, who was already an Aquato by then.”

“This is really hot stuff, Raz! Really hot!” She swept the polaroids back into her bag. “I can’t wait to report it to Hollis when she gets back from Australia. I wish we had a list of suspects! Any ideas?”

“If it’s not the coach and it’s not anyone on the senior staff, I don’t know who it could be,” Raz shrugged. “We know it’s probably a Deluginist, but aside from that it could be anyone. All they need is access to Whispering Rock, and anyone with a True Psychic Tales subscription can find that. They advertise in every issue.”

“I still think we should narrow our search to people at the agency,” Lili said. “Nick Johnsmith knew a lot about everyone through sorting their mail, but only someone who worked here already would know the senior-staff hack to get him in. I’ll keep thinking on it. What about our Hornblower project? Did you find anything else in the comic books?”

“Not yet. I mean, as long as you don’t count high-stakes Psychic adventure and daring-do. I found plenty of that,” he snickered. “No more duelists or anything, though.”

“That’s too bad.”

“But listen to this one,” he leaned in. “Ford and Pergola? Were buddies.”

“Really?”

“And Pergola is a Teleporter!”

“What? No way!” Lili clapped her hands in flurried excitement. “Wait! That means it COULD be him!”

“What?”

“Our suspect!” Lili said. “If Pergola can Teleport and knew Ford, then he probably knew about the Psychonauts! And if he knew about the Psychonauts, he could poof himself here any time he thought he needed to!”

“But the Lowha Lasung monastery was surrounded by a Psilirium fence,” Raz said. “It kept Sasha and Milla from talking to each other, it even stalled out the Pelican.”

“That doesn’t matter if he does it through the Collective Unconscious!” Lili said. “He could locate Ford’s mind and beam himself straight to Whispering Rock! Maybe even influence Ford in one of his personalities to do things for him. If he had one of Ford’s belongings, he could even move his body there. A Psilirium fence works really well on the surface, but would be weaker inside a mountain and you said the monastery went really deep.”

“REALLY deep! The library was deep enough that Hornblower could get in using HIS Teleporter.”

“That tears it!” Lili cried. “Pergola definitely escaped his monastery to spy on us, and if he can do that we can believe he went other places, too. Maybe he’s been dueling with the Menatlists. Or he could even be part of the New Thinkers, himself!”

“But Pergola’s a pacifist,” Raz said. “He wouldn’t blow up a city – ”

“HE doesn’t have to,” Lili insisted. “I read the report Sasha made about him. He’s okay with Hornblower killing people as long as his hands stay clean. The New Thinkers are all about ending Psychic oppression in the world, that fits Pergola’s philosophy, too.”

Raz ran through the timeline in his head. “When Agent 33 spoke to Sasha on the radio, she confirmed that our mission was a success before conveying Truman’s cryptic order to skip Fanrong and head home. Maybe your dad suspected Pergola was on the plane! Ford wrote a whole dossier up on him, so Truman would know about Pergola’s history as a duelist. There was a really good chance PERGOLA was going to be the guy recruited to fight Hornblower. Maybe Truman wanted the Pelican home so fast because he wanted to keep a possible villain under guard.”

“And who better to guard him than the Psychonauts’ top agents!?” Lili said. “Milla was supposed to be on the Pelican with you, after all. She and Sasha together could keep him in check until we could throw him in the GPC for safekeeping.”

“AND if Pergola was a member of the New Thinkers, then he was probably present during the Zurich Incident and knew about the Mind Bomb plan,” Raz said. “Heck, he knew Hornblower BEFORE that meeting! He probably introduced them!”

“Then, when we infiltrated the meeting, he could have easily escaped capture by blinking back to his mountain before he got caught,” Lili agreed. “Sasha and Milla caught one Teleporter there, right?”

“Chablis Jeaune.”

“Well, Teleportation is an inherited affinity! And there’s only so many of them in the world at all… they could be related!”

Raz could see it playing out. Pergola leaving his prestigious family on a backpacking trip, getting to know the Mentallists in Nepal and joining the Lowha Lasung monastery where he became a liaison between Hornblower and the New Thinkers. The monastery was an effective cover. No one would venture to the Himalayas to find him, except for Ford who already knew where he was. It all fit in place, but it also meant that the mastermind behind everything could be three floors below them at that very moment. Fighting Sasha. “I gotta go!”

“What? Go where?” Lili asked.

“It’s combat training day!” Raz said. “Sasha and Pergola are fighting in the Coliseum right now!”

“Sasha's fighting him? Like FIGHTING him, fighting him?" Lili asked. "Why would he do that when he's only been training for a day?"

"He's says its part of the lessons."

"I don't like the sound of that at all," Lili said. "What if Sasha doesn't know he's a villain? The only reason he asked to let you come along on the mission to recruit Pergola was because he thought it was safe. If Dad didn't share his suspicions then, maybe Sasha and Milla still don't know."

"Maybe there's still time to catch him before the fight starts," Raz said. "I'll tell Sasha about Pergola. He'll know what to do about it. Maybe it'll stop the lessons altogether."

"I'll keep doing more research. I need to check in with the TPT team anyway, I'll tell them to start looking for Teleporters in the comic books. We're going to need evidence if we're going to present this to Hollis."

"Or Truman!" Raz said. "If we find the proof we should present it at the All-Projects meeting."

"You're right!"

"I knew that old guy was bad news," Raz said. "From the moment we met him there was something fishy about him!"

"Well, he won't get away with it!" Lili growled. "He's going to burn for what he's doing to us, you just wait and see!”

Chapter Text

Raz took the OttoB.O.N down to the Coliseum. It was faster than the elevator and time was in question. If Sasha took Pergola at this word, his life could be in immediate danger. He balled himself into a mental shield and navigated the tubes to the observation room above the training pitch. He remembered an intercom system at the judge’s station. He kicked out of the tube and nearly rammed into a woman in a suit and tie.

She deflected him with a mental sheild. “Hey!”

“Whaa?” Raz staggered. There were two dozen agents and staff in the observation room, half of them wearing workout gear. Some had coffee. All were there to watch the sparring match. Raz elbowed through the forest of legs, winding his way to the judge’s station where Norma Natividad was standing in front of the intercom microphone. The “talk” light was off, but Raz’s suspicions were broadcasting loud. “Norma? What are you doing here?”

“Are you kidding? No way I was going to miss this,” she snickered. “I’ve been dying to see Agent Nein get his ass kicked.”

His face flushed. “What!? But why?”

Norma rolled her eyes. “I can’t expect you to understand. Everyone sees how you worship him. I swear you’re as bad as Morris.”

“I don’t …” Raz started, but he had to admit he kind of did. He bit his lip. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Trust me. He was my mentor way before you came into the picture,” Norma said. “Agent Nein is a braggart and a know-it-all. From the moment I got to his office, all he did was talk talk talk all day about science and theories and whatever piece of boring classical music he was listening to. Every tiny task we did came with some college-length lecture about its global significance like he was some genius and I was five years old. When he was on assignment, he left me with towers of paperwork. And when he was in the office, he put me in his mind to run ENDLESS censor Psi-Blast drills. I did that nonsense for like three days straight before I complained to Agent Forscythe about it. Thank god for that, too. To think I petitioned for Agent Nein as a mentor because he was the number-one field agent, but instead of learning spy stuff like I CAME here for, he made me his secretary and gave me busywork. Asshole. It’ll do him good to get his ego knocked down a peg or two.”

“But – !”

A burst of excitement spread through the crowd behind them. Norma pressed to the glass. “They’re starting!”

Sasha and Pergola were ten feet apart in the middle of the field. Two lines of batons marked their starting places; twenty four for each of them. Sasha was waiting with one hand in his pocket. Pergola was cross-legged on the floor, but rose with a grunt, slow and rickety as ever.

“For the record. This is not a duel,” Pergola’s reedy voice hissed through the loudspeaker. “This is a purification ritual. My brothers and I would meditate to refine our thoughts. The movement of the implements stoked the flame, but that was nothing compared to the rising heat of a duel between equal combatants. This is why we call it the Crucible. When done right, it will burn deep into your mind, making it malleable and stretching it thin like glass in the furnace. That is the goal of our order – a tempered mind. One practiced can find the purifying fire alone, but fighting is faster. If you’re doing it right, you’ll understand.”

Sasha’s face was like a wall. “I’m here to learn.”

“And I want you to learn,” Pergola said. “I want to prove to you the art of this practice, and the only way to do that is to expose you to the truth. And to follow the rules.”

“I know the rules,” Sasha said. “Only Telekinesis. The duel ends when one combatant can no longer continue.”

“For our purpose today, it ends when I say so,” Pergola snapped. He raised the east-side batons into an arch above his head, balled his fists and punched down, slamming the weapons into two solid walls along his forearms. It was the same way he faced Raz, Sasha, and Oleander at Lowha Lasung. The stack of batons floated off his forearms six inches from his skin and followed the motions of his wrists like gauntlets as he assumed a fighting stance. “Lock in to prove your intent. There is no handshake, no countdown. Once both are ready, the duel begins. Any questions?”

“No.” Sasha’s line of batons rose in two parts. He mimicked Pergola’s movement and locked himself in. Raz felt the impact in the pit of his stomach.

“Good.” Pergola’s complement of batons burst from his wrist like a slow-motion explosion. The projectiles sought their familiar tracks, weaving in and out in different directions like electrons about an atomic nucleus. The pattern gained speed with each revolution. Sasha followed his instructor’s example and sent his twenty-four batons into orbit in pairs.

Pergola snorted. “Cheeky.”

His cyclone burst to life. Six stayed with him in orbit, but the rest snapped like a whip crack and drove down on Sasha with all their accumulated speed. The Psychonaut split his items in half, sending twelve forward to create a wall before his splayed hand, but Pergola’s wave avoided it and scraped through the rotating defenses instead. Batons collided and scattered, bouncing across the padded floor. Pergola snatched them up on the rebound and threaded them into his own arsenal. Sasha broke the wall back into orbiters as he retreated from the wave. His collection moved with him like a cage, now several projectiles weaker.

Pergola laughed. “Too easy.”

“We’ve just started.”

“Then try harder!” Pergola sent a second barrage bolstered by his new acquisitions. Sasha buckled down, his batons swarming to cover the holes in his defense even as more were bust open. Raz tried to count how many projectiles he had, but it was impossible in the scramble. There were definitely less than the initial twenty-four. Probably closer to eighteen. It was still more than Sasha was accustomed to managing. The Psychonaut retreated again, his face tight and jaw set as he reined his dwindling collection. Pergola kept the onslaught coming. He sent a rogue baton in from the side, aimed for Sasha’s ribs, but a kamikaze baton from Sasha knocked it clear before impact. Both batons returned to Pergola’s collection. The old man sniffed. “Sloppy!”

Sasha widened his stance and split his forces into a two-layer defense. Raz could count now; seven projectiles at close range to cover Sasha’s body and seven more darting ungracefully at the outer edge. Fourteen total. Dangerously close to Prime Number Purgatory. Pergola adjusted his attack, aiming specifically for the outliers with targeted projectiles like homing missiles. Sasha let him claim two of them easily to put him back down to twelve, but doing so let two of Pergola’s batons squeaked through. The inner line saved him from taking a blow, but his outer line lost another member while he was distracted. Sasha retreated another step and the crowd behind Raz murmured in anger or worry.

Norma looked smug. Raz frowned at her sideling and pressed his nose to the glass. His breath fogged the view – the temperature was dropping inside the pitch. Silver dazzled like glitter, gaining shape and form as Pergola’s strength mounted. Searching arms of mental energy grabbed batons like a hungry amoeba. The man at the center was trembling with concentration and something else. Excitement? Hunger. He twitched his arm and another wave slashed at Sasha’s number. The Psychonaut was down to ten satellites, but they were moving easier than before. His shoulders unclenched as he studied the storm in front of him. Pergola kept two dozen batons in close defense with fourteen running constant attack passes. Sasha’s tight rotations deflected the blasts with little disruption to their patterns. Pergola’s shifted in response. A flight of five batons rushed from the silvery cloud and sliced downward through Sasha’s orbiters. Several spun loose, but Sasha kept control and redirected them back toward himself with enough speed to clip the attackers before they left his sphere. The five fliers spun out of geometric balance and scattered. Pergola’s mind thrust in to reclaim them but Sasha’s blue signature laced them first. He corrected their spin and all five joined his network to his hidden audience’s approval

“Yes!” Raz muttered.

“Good!” Pergola’s tone was strained. His hands were shaking. “Faster!”

Pergola doubled his pace, batons whizzing past the observation window and assaulting Sasha from both sides. The Psychonaut clenched and unclenched his fists, his fifteen defenders spinning like propellers to cover more area. He redirected his weapons to target Pergolas aggressors and take them for himself. The sides inched closer to even.

Pergola’s sunken chest heaved within the drape of his t-shirt. “Yes! More!”

The monk lunged his body forward, rushing thirty batons with him as he crossed the pitch’s center line with more speed than Raz thought him capable of. He drove Sasha back. The Psychonaut moved to maintain distance, but stopped when his batons clipped the back wall. Pergola kept coming, pressing tight until the two webs intermeshed into a sparking a riot of silver and blue. Batons buffeted each other, spinning and tumbling as the combatants snatched ammo back and forth. The pitch clouded with a haze of plaster dust and sparking energy. Sasha shielded his face with his arms.

“You’re on the ropes!” Pergola seethed through clenched teeth. “Fight back!”

“I am!”

“Fight for real!” Pergola shouted. “Fight for your life!”

Sasha shifted weight forward and drove into the gale. Batons burst like fireworks off his defense as it extended outward to make space for him to launch an attack. A cascade of five blueish meteors hit the ground at Pergola’s feet, driving him closer to the center line with each blow. The swarms parted and normalized. Sasha was still fifteen strong.

Pergola wheezed, eyes alight. He shot batons down in squadrons. Sasha kept mobile, his arms tight as he strafed past the waves, but widening as he sent blows back. Pergola met his mounting aggression and added to it, mounting the clash blow by blow until the air crackled with energy. Batons struck the floor, the walls, and each other as they threatened the fighters with near misses and dodges. The numbers on either side shifted. Pergola grabbed two, lost one, gained three, lost two. Sasha had ten, then eleven, then fifteen, then back to ten.

The audience cooed and cursed as Sasha gained or lost ground. Danger prickled the skin on Raz’s arms. Glimmers of blue and silver laced the churned air as Pergola’s outer defenses were ravaged and Sasha’s inner guard took direct hits. Pergola’s attacks rained in pulses. Sasha adjusted his rotating lines to capture interlopers. He had twelve, lost one, gained two, lost three, stole them back. The geometry shifted in ripples as pieces moved faster than Raz could see. The pressure in the observation room plummeted. Raz’s ears popped and something below snapped, like the release of a coiled spring. Sasha’s blue resonance flashed and the whole mess went wild.

Pergola drew his weapons back as Sasha staggered, thirteen batons whipping and collided amongst themselves. Sasha fought to regain control. He sent a single baton wild to eject the wrench from his gears, but the remaining twelve were erratic. Pergola zeroed in on a widening gap and blasted a baton straight to Sasha’s face. It aimed to break his jaw, but met a blue Psi-Shield and deflected skyward, instead.

Pergola’s eyes flashed silver. “NO!”

The monk unleashed his full complement of projectiles at once. Sasha gave up on the batons and raised a full Psi-Shield to take the hits. His arsenal flew in all directions, putting dents in the walls and ceiling. One clunked off the window glass and made the crowd jump. Pergola sent every one Sasha rejected back down in hammer blows punctuated with silver Psi-Blasts and mental fists in a flurry of assault that showed no sign of exhaustion. The bold blue of Sasha’s shield faded as the onslaught of Psychic powers and physical projectiles chipped away its integrity. Sasha replaced it as it shattered, but Pergola teleported into close quarters and hit Sasha with a psychic blast that blew him clean out of his defense. The Psychonaut hit the wall below the observation room hard enough to shake the glass.

Raz froze, dread chilling through him as Pergola’s attack ceased. The electric charge faded and with it the good-humor of the onlookers who stood disappointed and confused. They shifted, muttering to each other. Some ventured back to their workouts. Others stayed in case of a rematch. Norma was talking but Raz couldn’t hear her above the pulse pounding in his ears. His heart was a snare drum as he pressed his face to the window. He searched the ground below for a sign of his mentor, but he couldn’t see Sasha at all let alone if he was hurt. Pergola stood before the point of impact, seething through his teeth. Wisps of silver shimmered from his eyes and his stooped back like steam from a hot poker. Raz grabbed Norma’s wrist. “How do I get down there?”

She started mid-sentence. “What? Why?”

“I mean it, Norma! How?”

“Uh…” she pointed back toward the hall. “There’s a staircase – ”

Raz left her at the window and shoved through the dispersing crowd. Halfway up the hall was a pair of facing doors labeled “Locker Room Hall.” Raz burst through the right-hand one and levitated down a flight of stairs to a tiled hallway where the Team Locker rooms were labeled West and East. He barged through the west door shoulder first and found a labyrinth of blue metal lockers and gold tiled shower stalls. The door to the practice pitch was crowned with a painting of a falcon between a pair of feathers on sticks. Raz sprinted toward it. He had to know if Sasha was okay. He had to know if Pergola had done the worst thing he could have...

The old man’s voice piped in over a tinny loudspeaker. “Telekinesis only!”

“It was a reflex.”

"You tainted the duel!"

Raz skidded to a stop with his hand on the doorknob, the broken tone in Sasha’s voice piercing through him to his core. Sasha may have been Raz’s idol, but he was also his teacher. And his friend. And he sounded so small and defeated compared to the Sasha he knew. Raz hated the sound of it. How could Norma call him a show-off when he’d put himself through so much already? And she treated Raz like some kind of fanboy as if Sasha and Milla and everyone else weren’t earning every ounce of respect he gave them? Frustrated tears brimmed Raz’s eyes. He wiped them away and shoved through the door and onto the pitch.

The field was scattered with loose batons, chipped paint, and bits of ceiling tile from the final explosion. Sasha was sitting against the wall, massaging the side of his head beneath a giant semi-circular crack in the plaster. Pergola loomed with a flushed face and a halo of silver energy. His fists shook in pure rage.

“Are you asking for mercy?” Pergola demanded. “Do you think HORATIO will show you mercy?”

Sasha dropped his hand. “No.”

“The rules of this discipline are not for fair play!” Pergola persisted. “The Crucible is the ultimate form of trust. Grinsmith will trust you to follow the rules – there’s no victory for him if you don’t – and you can trust him to do the same as surely as you can trust him to kill you. Because he will kill you.”

“I know that.”

“Tainting it will only kill you faster!” Pergola spat. “He’ll grind you to paste! He won’t even consider it – your life is worth nothing to him. You are nothing more than a vehicle to his glory. Your existence justified only by your role in the duel. And if you perform like this then you’re worth less than that! You are NOTHING.”

“Hey!” Raz sprinted across the pitch and barred the space between them. “Leave him alone!”

Pergola tutted. “The child again.”

“Look, he gets it, okay?” Raz challenged. “Reminding us over and over that Horatio’s deadly is dumb - we already KNOW he’s deadly. You’re supposed to be teaching right now. How about giving actual lessons and techniques and … I don’t know… strategy or something instead of screaming and being a bully just because you think you’re better than us!”

“Raz.” Sasha’s voice was flat. “You’re not helping.”

Raz flinched and stepped aside with a pit in his stomach. He kept a sharp eye on Pergola, but a wary eye on Sasha as he stood, shedding plaster dust.

“I tainted the duel. I admit it," Sasha stated. "Let’s try again..”

“No.” Pergola spat. “You don’t have what it takes to master this discipline.”

“I can if you let me.”

“What ego!” Pergola scoffed. “Do you think you can make demands right now? After you ruined everything? This was your folly, not mine.”

“It won’t happen again.”

“Yes it will,” Pergola said. “You and Grinsmith are the same creature. He may have mastered the discipline, but he didn’t understand the art of the Crucible. Mathematics, instinct, poetry… for years I meditated alongside him as he threw himself into refinement with a hunger unmatched by any of us. I watched him achieve the most perfect temper of any of us has reached, yet he couldn’t let go of the ego that poisoned him. He still valued power and prestige and accolades, and so he failed to surrender himself to the Crucible. To find perfection in the burn of that purifying fire…”

Sasha’s jaw muscle flexed.

Pergola took a step forward, eyes narrowed. “You felt it, didn’t you? That spark of heat, deep in the moment when the world burned away? The fire?”

Sasha inhaled. “I did, yes.”

The hair rose on Raz’s neck. Pergola clapped his hands with a hungry smile. “THAT is the soul temper! The refinement of the mind when the sense of self vanishes and everything in the world burns away except the instant you exist in. Tell me how it felt. Did you sense the impurities precipitating away? When the thoughts become meaningless? That is the tension of the soul! It is what we are without the chaff of life and thought and influence. For what is more pure than the strain between the mind and the body when you’re forced to earn each breath by the skin of your teeth? When you begin to feel the gaps between the seconds. To taste eternity. Transcend time, itself. THAT is the moment we hunt our whole lives for! That spark of pure energy that only exists when the soul pulls taut… in that whisper-thin instant between the moment the knife that will kill you touches your skin and and the moment it enters. In that fraction of second, you change to something eternal. Neither real, nor unreal. Suspended in infinity by the rapidly thinning tether we know as the soul.”

Raz bit his lip. and glanced up at Sasha with a fresh pang of concern.

Sasha was unimpressed. “Horatio believes this?”

Pergola blew a disappointed snort. “He did. Once.”

“What happened?”

“Ego,” Pergola reiterated. “Shallow selfishness. He did all the work, winnowed himself to the head of a pin, but couldn’t release that last bit and join Lars Arcana in ascension. In the process, he burned away ethics, conscience, respect for life and death… even loyalty to his own brothers. He does not care about Psychics and Non-Psychics as you suspect that he does. He doesn’t even care about control. Only power. You will not be able to reason with him.”

“Power is more than drive and will.” Sasha said. “And life is more complex than you assume. A man cannot function on one thought at a time.”

“Horatio is not a man anymore,” Pergola said. “He is a force of nature.”

“He has a human mind.”

“To his detriment,”

Sasha’s voice evened. He drew a steady breath. “He’s still out there. If I've disappointed you, it’s not too late to face an opponent you find worthy. We can get you both in the same place on equal ground and you can find that moment of tension you’re searching for — ”

“Don’t say another word,” Pergola snapped. “I had my chance at Horatio. I won’t face him again.”

“Then I’ll reiterate,” Sasha said. “Can we continue? Because if no one else is going to face him, I will. Not for ego or for ascension or philosophy or power, but because he needs to be stopped and I’m willing to do what you tell me to if it means I can do it.”

“If you’re sincere in that then yes, we can continue. But you have to prove it to me in practice, not words.” Pergola’s voice dripped with acid. “I will not make another Horatio in an effort to stop him. I will not train a monster and unleash it to the world.”

“You won’t.”

“We’ll find out,” Pergola said. “No more today. We resume tomorrow but understand this; from now on you are not training to defeat Grinsmith Horatio. You are training to defeat me. And if you can’t defeat me, you won’t defeat him.”

“I understand.”

“You’d better.”

“I do.” Sasha bowed his head and started for the locker room. “Come along, Razputin.”

“But…” Raz took a step, but paused to glare at Pergola. The silver shimmer had dimmed, and he was once again a fragile poorly-dressed old man with sunken eyes and skull-deep hollows in his temples and his cheeks. Raz snarled. “I’m on to you.”

“Oh?”

“You’re hiding something,” Raz said. “I don’t have proof of it yet, but when I find it, I’m going to expose you to Grand Head Zanotto and get you thrown straight in jail.”

“In jail, you say?” He raised one thick eyebrow. “I remind you, I came here at your request, little boy.”

“Yeah, well… I didn’t know you were a jerk.” Raz spat. He dashed across the pitch to the locker room, but Pergola’s voice followed as an echo in his head..

“I haven’t forgotten our little exchange on the airplane, young man. Soul-tempering could burn that pride out of you. It’ll be your downfall, but if you purify yourself, you’ll be stronger than your colleague. Stronger than anyone. All you need do is ask.”

Raz ground his teeth. “I’d rather get put through the wall.”

Chapter Text

Sasha was not in the locker room when Raz arrived, nor was he anywhere in the Coliseum when he made his way upstairs. Anxiety mounted the more he searched. Sasha seemed 'off' after his fight. Hurt, surely. Discouraged. And after discussing with Pergola about the Crucible, maybe something even worse. Raz tried not to panic as he exited to the Olympian lobby. No Sasha. He hopped the lift up to the Atrium, but he wasn't there either. There was a chance Sasha had gone back to the Hypnository, or out to the quarry, but Raz followed his gut up the ramp to the Agents wing. If he knew Sasha he was either in his lab getting back to work, or with Milla.

The lab was vacant as well. Raz ran a lap around the cork boards and poked into the sitting room where more of the pinned-up bank account paperwork had fallen to the floor. Sasha was missing, but there was evidence of his presence; the ashtray was full, a box of vinyl records was open on the couch, the cognac bottle Sasha kept on top of the cabinet was sitting next to the computer. Nothing looked more recently disturbed than that morning. It made sense - in addition to his physical safety to the Hornblower project, Sasha had sacrificed the privacy of his lab to it as well. The cork boards in the main room were packed tight with printouts and notes in other peoples’ handwriting and the exam table was piled high with books, boxes, and binders.

Raz scanned the boards briefly to see what had been done. The team was hard at work tracking Hornblower’s location. Raz wished he could add something from the TPT team so Hollis could blow Hornblower to pieces with a space laser, but he’d been neglecting his project team for the whole afternoon. He did find a note in Sasha’s handwriting pinned in the middle of the map, but it was in German. Raz heaved a heavy sigh and went next door to see Milla.

The smell of lavender and the mellow twanging of sitar music welcomed Raz into the Meditation Room. Milla was not on her dias. The room appeared empty, although Raz found it hard to believe she’d leave incense burning without her there to look after it. He stopped at the edge of her colorful carpet. Were she and Sasha together? Had she left in a hurry? Had something happened?

“Razputin?” Milla asked softly. She was sitting at her computer desk along the wall. An unusual sight, but logical. It was there to be used. She spun in her chair, face drawn. “You look upset. Can I help you with anything?”

“No, I…” he started, but the knot in his chest was undeniable. He matched her low tone and approached. “Can I talk to you? About Sasha?”

“Of course you can, darling. But quietly. We don’t want to wake him.”

She gestured to the empty room. Raz spotted a pair of feet sticking out from the space beyond the podium. He tiptoed to the back of the room. Sasha was stretched out on his stomach in the light of the window like a cat. His glasses on the rug above his right shoulder and his was face buried nose-down in his crossed arms.

Raz relaxed. That was one mystery solved.

“The poor dear.” Milla floated in from above. “He told me about what happened.”

“Should he be sleeping? He’s probably got a concussion.”

“Oh no, he’s alright. Just a little discouraged,” Milla said. “He was able to raise a shield before he dented the wall.”

“Oh. Good…” Raz cleared his throat. “I know I’m not supposed to put negative thoughts into the world or whatever, but I’m getting really worried about all this.”

“I know, dear.”

“If we find Horatio’s location and Sasha’s not ready, is he still going to fight him?”

Milla took a breath. “No. He won’t.”

“Are you sure?”

“Razputin,” Milla cooed. “Field agents are assigned partners for a very good reason. Sasha is taking the forward position in this assignment, but I am still active as support. We will not do anything we both don’t agree to, and I won’t agree to something I know is a mistake.”

“And you don’t think this is a mistake?”

She set her jaw. “When we say we are exploring all options, it requires exploring all options. Every mission has its bumps in the road. Diversifying possibilities is how we adapt to new information. Perhaps Compton’s research team is less glamorous than a flashy performance fight or an elaborate mental scenario, but it’s equally important. Just as your research project is important. Otto’s neutralizer may end up being the most important element of all, but we can’t put all of our expectations solely on him. What did we learn earlier? We can only make the best choices…?”

“With the information we have.”

“That’s right,” Milla said. “As long as we do that, we’ll be ready for anything.”

“Senior staff, report to the nerve center!” Truman’s voice interrupted on the loudspeaker. “Senior staff and Hornblower project leads. Nerve Center, now.”

“Oh dear,” Milla sighed.

Raz’s heart sank. He was starting to sour on senior staff meetings. He almost suggested letting Sasha sleep through this one, but Milla was already poking her partner with a shimmering magenta finger. Sasha groaned, returned his glasses to his face, and levitated himself upright like opening a trap door.

“Senior meeting, darling,” Milla said.

“Another bomb?”

“Not that I can sense.”

“Das erleichtert.”

Raz rushed forward. “Sasha, are you okay?”

He lit a cigarette. “I’m fine.”

“It’s just when you left, I didn’t know…” Raz forced himself not to ramble. “I just wanted...”

Sasha fixed him with a curious look that relaxed into understanding. “I apologize for vanishing on you. I needed a moment. This assignment has become rather difficult.”

“Are you really going to try again tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

“I…” Raz cringed. “I don’t think you should.”

Sasha’s brow arched. “Don’t you?”

“Lili and I believe Pergola’s bad news," Raz said. "He hid the fact he was a Teleporter and we think he’s lying about even more. He hates the world, and the Psychonauts, and he REALLY hates Ford. We think he could be part of the New Thinkers. He might even be a Deluginist.”

Milla’s eyes widened. “A Deluginist?”

“Somebody put that Maligula construct in Loboto's head, and Pergola’s whole schtick is curating his own mind and doctoring stuff. And as a Teleporter, he can go anywhere he wants at any time. The New Thinkers have a teleporter, too, right? They could be related.”

“Chablis Jeaune and Agrippa Pergola are not related by blood,” Sasha stated.

Raz’s brow knit. “Do we know that for certain? I thought Teleportation was a family thing.”

“We are certain because we have extensive files on Chablis Jaune because of her incarceration,” Milla said. “This includes blood samples and family history. She and Mr. Pergola are not blood relatives, nor are they related through any family association.”

“Not even their Teleportation is related,” Sasha said. “Ford and Pergola use what we call True Teleportation, which allows them to move themselves from place to place by thought either mentally or physically. Miss Jeaune uses a Teleporthic-transferrance. A portal, essentially. She creates a fluctuation in space time she then steps through to move herself and others from place to place.”

Raz recalled the red and yellow Psychic resonance he saw in Lowha Lasung when Hornblower teleported in. It didn't seem weird at the time, but it WAS different to what he saw Pergola doing in the mail room. His spirits sank. “Is it really that different even though it does the same thing?”

“The two techniques are similar in the same way that Telekinesis and Levitation are similar,” Milla summarized. “They both can move an object through the air but behind the scenes, the mechanics of the two are different and specialized. Levitation affects the air, space, and gravity around an object to make it lighter and therefore float.”

“And Telekinesis requires seizing an object directly and moving it with the mind,” Sasha said. “Even within the discipline, Telekinesis has different forms. You can use a mentally constructed hand to lift an object, like you favor Razputin, or you can lift with only energy the way Weponkinesis requires.”

"Okay, so he's not a secret terrorist," Raz grunted. “But Pergola’s still hiding something. I can feel it in my gut.”

"He may be, he may not be." Sasha slouched a fraction. “Regardless, I assure you he is sincere in what he believes. The essence of this soul emper philosophy he’s built his life around is the elimination of unnecessary elements… like refining gold. It’s a form of self-hypnosis. Narrowing one’s thinking as a general philosophy is both isolating and limiting, but narrowing your thinking onto one core concept increases your belief in it to the point of fanaticism. This is what he and his brothers are doing with Telekinesis. By changing the physical composition of their minds, they’re making themselves more powerful in one very specific way at the cost of the rest.”

“They’re changing their actual brains?” Raz cried.

Sasha brightened substantially. He swept the cigarette out of his hand. “All learning alters the brain, it's one of the marvels of life and sentient cognition! Experience changes us on more than just a psychological level, it moves neurons, grows dendrites, and transports cells and chemicals to alter our physical tissues. In this way everything we learn is etched into our bodies as permanently as words carved into a stone slab. Those packets of information can lay dormant for decades only to be activated by a smell or a song… even more proof why the mental and physical aspects of ourselves are so essentially tied together. No matter how far our minds wander, our thoughts and feelings are still being written into the creases of our brains through chemical reaction. It’s a fantastic miracle of nature!”

Raz grinned as well. “That’s why Pergola switched back to Teleporting so easily?”

“Despite his claims to the contrary, I very much doubt he ever stopped,” Sasha said. “The monks preach high ideals, but you and I both saw that they still used their powers daily for heat, water, Telepathy. Pergola can diminish his emphasis in Teleportation, but he can’t dismiss his genes. No matter how much he enters his own mind and to burn away chaff, he can’t change the structures that actually MAKE him a Psychic – both the affinities he was born with and the skills he learned throughout his life.”

“You mean the Psi-blasts. And the Mental fists. And whatever that blast was that broke your shield.”

“Sonokinesis.” The cigarette returned and Sasha sighed a puff of smoke. “I admit, it was more aggression than I was prepared for. Frankly, the whole ‘tainting’ aspect of these supposedly purified practices confused me when I was researching the technique but after participating, myself, I’m beginning to understand. Weaponkinesis has been a dueling style in Psychic circles for a century independent from the teachings of the Lowha Lasung, and the determination to keep it a pure Telekinetic-on-Telekinetic conflict was baked in from the start, but it has only been since Hornblower left his monastery that an assured destruction rule was enforced. I suspect it was written backward into the rulebook to compensate for what was likely a post-soul-tempering reflex in him. Pergola said at the start that the match would end on his say-so, yet when I lost, he immediately employed destructive behavior AGAINST his previous statements. I wonder if Pergola could help reacting as he did. Without the emotional and experiential scaffolding to compensate for the change in events, Pergola defaulted to rage and lashed out. Like a tantrum thrown by a child too young to properly speak. He has the intention, but lacks tools.”

“Can we assume the same reflex led to Hornblower’s extermination of the other Weaponkinetics?” Milla asked.

Sasha nodded. “Horatio likely exhibited the same response when he re-entered the dueling population and instead of schooling such a frightening person back into fairer dueling practice, the community of Weaponkinetics he entered braced themselves for his behavior. In time, it became a rule. And now it’s become my problem.”

Raz replayed the duel, clearly seeing the drunk look on Pergola’s face when they fought and the silver glaze that slicked his eyes when Sasha triggered him. He also remembered Pergola talking about the crucible fire. That it came from pulling the soul apart. “Hey Sasha?”

“Yes?”

“Were you telling the truth downstairs?” Raz asked, mouth dry. “When Pergola asked you about feeling a fire burning during the duel, you said ‘yes.’ Did you really feel something? Or was that a lie to get his cooperation?”

Sasha paused, drawn inward as if reliving the scene as well. “It wasn’t a lie.”

“Did he do something to you?”

“No, it wasn’t like that,” he said. “I felt this ‘burn’ he was describing, but it’s not magic. It’s adrenaline. This style taps into survival instincts still present from long ago in human ancestry. Activating the ‘fight’ in ‘fight or flight.’ In addition to raising your heart rate and flooding your bloodstream with chemicals, it narrows your focus to the point that your perception of time is altered. It slows, and all the patterns and attack strategies become instincts and reactions with no time to think ahead. You start to vanish into the moment. The world… contracts… until there is nothing except two forces in battle... like universes casting galaxies across space and time... immortal...”

The pressure in the room started dropping. The lights dimmed and a low ringing drowned out the ambient music overhead. A cast of blue energy crackled at the edge of Raz’s vision.

Milla bent her head. “... darling?”

Sasha blinked and the room normalized. He cleared his throat. “It's intoxicating.”

“I see,” Milla said, clipped. “Maybe we should keep our eye on that?”

“Right.” Sasha averted his eyes. “Yes.”

“If this is the reaction the Lowha Lasung monks experience when practicing this technique, it’s no wonder they consider it so precious,” Milla continued, sounding practical. “Could this fire you’ve sensed hold some clue to the development of the Mind Bomb?”

“I hadn’t considered it, but it could,” Sasha noted. “Otto has already determined that the bombs are a conductive spiral. It is possible Horatio adapted his experience with soul-tempering and Weaponkinesis into a shortcut for building massive concussive force. The mathematical portions of Weaponkinesis can apply to more than just objects. If he’s hypnotized each of his bombs to narrow their focus on projecting force and applied calculations to stabilize the storm patterns in their heads, then the trigger we are looking for could cause the same reaction as tainting a duel. Sudden disruption causing a burst of mental turmoil that creates an explosion.”

“We need to inform Otto about this,” Milla said. “Perhaps it could be useful for his neutralizer.”

Sasha nodded. “Let’s get to Truman’s meeting.”

The two strode toward the door, but Raz had one more lingering question. Okay, he had a lot of questions, but one really irritating one. He jogged to keep up. “Hey, Sasha?”

“Yes, Razputin?”

“What was Norma like as a mentee?”

Sasha broke stride. “Norma?”

“We were watching your fight together,” Raz said. “She told me what it was like having you as a mentor so I wanted to hear your thoughts, too.”

“I don’t have many, to be honest.”

“Sasha,” Milla chastised.

He shrugged at her. “She struggled to listen and never thought to ask questions. The first real challenge I gave her she complained to my boss. It was clear she was dissatisfied. When she sought other instruction I didn't argue. You can’t force someone to learn from you if they don’t want to.”

“Some students need more patience than others.” Milla narrowed her eyes on him. “You can’t tell me a young Sasha Nein wouldn’t be just as stubborn with authority.”

“A young Sasha Nein would not have filed formal complaints. He would have solved the problem, himself.”

“That’s what she did. She just used different methods.” Milla wagged a finger. “I think you see too much of yourself in her.”

“Oh, please.”

“A talented young Psychic driven by ambition, burdened with curiosity, and too smart for their own good?" She tutted. "Deny it all you want, darling. Rewind the clock a little ways, and you’ll see that I’m right.”

He returned a playful smirk. "As always?"

She smiled knowingly back."

The group arrived at the Nerve Center door at the same time as Lili. She grabbed Raz’s arm. “Did you tell them?”

“Tell us what, sweetie?” Milla asked.

“About Pergola being a Neenk Mentalist Deluginist!”

Sasha shook his head. “Lili.”

“What?! He is!”

“I’m glad you two are broadening your thinking, but let’s stay on task please,” Milla said.

“This is on task!” Lili shouted behind her. “Adam! Hurry up!”

Junior Agent Adam Joseph Gette was headed down the Think Tank ramp, but broke into a run at Lili’s bark. He jogged up, holding his hat to his head. “Sorry, I didn’t know there was a rush.”

“The world is ending! It’s always a rush!” she cried. “Did you bring it?”

“Yeah!” He pulled a comic issue out of his jacket and showed it to the superstars. “We made a breakthrough! Lili told us to start looking for Teleporters and I remembered finding this — ”

“Save it for the meeting.” Lili grabbed Adam’s arm and Raz’s coat collar and dragged them both into the Thinkerprint scanner. She yelled over her shoulder at the superstars. “Come on, you two! Dad said ‘now!’”

Sasha and Milla shared an amused glance as the second bank of sliding doors opened and the Junior Agents were admitted to another Senior-Level meeting.

Chapter Text

Half of the senior staff was still in Australia, so the crowd already assembled for Truman’s emergency Hornblower meeting was whittled down to Compton, Otto, and Dr. Cao. And Raz of course, and Lili, and Adam who was practically buzzing with excitement as they climbed onto the central holographic meeting space and grabbed seats. Raz went straight for the place he’d claimed for the All-Projects meeting that morning, but found it occupied by a bob-haired blonde wearing a black double-breasted suit-dress and a deep scowl.

He hit the brakes. “Agent 33?”

She glared. “Agent Aquato.”

“Hello, ma’am,” Adam said with less attitude. “I thought you were still in Africa.”

She widened the glare to fit both boys. “You’ll hear it in my report.”

“Good, you’re finally here,” Truman said as Sasha and Milla took their seats. “There’s been a development.”

“I’m getting sick of developments,” Otto grunted. He had a piece of equipment disassembled on the holographic display station in front of him and was cranking at it with a screwdriver. “Can we make this quick so I can get back to work?”

“Please tell me it’s not another bomb going off?” Compton added.

“Thankfully it’s not that,” Truman said and noticed Adam. “Um… welcome Mr. Gette. What are you doing here?”

“I’m representing the TPT Research Team,” Adam said. “Sir.”

Truman sent a questioning glance at his daughter who cocked her chin pointedly. “You heard him.”

“This is not an All-Projects meeting, Lili. This is an emergency meeting of the senior staff.”

“Yeah, well, this is an emergency, too,” Lili said. “And Adam discovered it so he’s going to explain it.”

“Alright, I won’t argue.” Truman switched on the display console. “Brief news from Australia. Hollis and the support team WERE allowed to land, but only long enough to establish an operational base and train the locals in our procedure. After that, we’re hands-off.”

“Hands-off?” Thirty-three cried. “Are they serious? Them, too? WE’RE the ones who know how to deal with these threats. Why are they prioritizing bullying us over the health and safety of their own people? You should have sent me down there, I could have gotten us two weeks at least.”

“Three…” Truman warned and appealed to the rest of the group. “As you’ve all noticed, Agent 33 has returned from the field. Go ahead with your report, agent.”

“Thanks muchly.” Agent 33 pulled a leather-bound memo book from her jacket pocket. “I spoke to the OAU leadership council about the value of employing the Psychonauts for this type of cleanup. They didn’t want to spend big money on us, which is a joke, but they appreciated our recovery strategies so I was bargaining a renewable contract with Agent Bob Zanotto’s field instructions as leverage… at least until the Australia bomb happened. Up to that point, my team applied themselves toward establishing a Fanrong-style recovery system with help of local law enforcement and EMTs from the unaffected portion of Labria. I gained the trust of the Algerian government, which previously had no dedicated Psychic department and had been relying on the OAU Mentelligence Angecy for help. The newly formed ‘Algeria Department of the Psychic’ has already started the process of becoming a satellite member of our agency, which will give us a much needed presence on that side of the globe. It will allow them to utilize our Resources for their startup procedures and give us access to their Psychoactive mineral sites. I was even allowed to visit the underground Psitanium mine beneath Labria to conduct Mind Lasso training. I think this partnership is going to bear a lot of fruit for us after this is over.”

“That’s excellent, dear!” Milla said.

Thirty-three puffed her chest..

Otto punctured her with an impatient snort. “Are we done, now? Some of us have time-sensitive work to do.”

“ALL of us have time sensitive work to do,” Compton corrected.

Truman sighed. “What Three neglected to mention was what happened after Africa. Her international progress is all well and good, but the bomb in Australia - specifically the rejection of the Psychonauts by China and other Asian powers – caused them to put everything on hold and send us home. The Mentelligence Agency is in charge of the recovery now, still using what we’re calling the Zanotto-Fullbear method, but without our oversight. The OAU has requested we not return until the Mind Bomb threat is eliminated for international security reasons. The Labria team is currently decompressing downstairs in Health and Wellness.”

“So we’ve been barred from Africa, Australia, AND Asia, now?” Dr. Cao pouted. “We’re running out of continents.”

“It’s bullshit, but it would have been worse without my negotiation,” Agent 33 insisted. “The inroads we made are significant. We just gotta get Hornblower and we’re gold.”

“If only it were that easy,” Sasha huffed.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s progress.”

“Yes, Three. Good work,” Truman said. “Moving on.”

Raz blinked and Ford Cruller was standing beside Truman as if he’d been there from the start.

Dr. Cao burst up in shock. “What – !?”

“Agent Cruller is adding himself to the team,” Truman said, nonchalantly.

Otto set down his screwdriver. “Took you long enough, you old goat.”

Ford smirked. “I’ve had an enlightening afternoon.”

“You’ve observed something?” Compton asked.

“A lot of things.” Ford cast a significant look at Raz and added a floppy disk to the holographic console. “I’ve been monitoring global movements from my headquarters in the Gulch and have noted some patterns we need to discuss. I supplied Agents Nein and Vodello with my observations up to this point, but things are happening quickly and it’d be faster if I was in the loop. I know the New Thinkers are our confirmed Hornblower accomplices, but the Mentalists are making some pretty interesting decisions. Allow me…”

A list of thousands of tiny city names appeared on the holoscreen. Everyone squinted. Truman hovered up a stack of printed copies and distributed them to the group. “These are all the locations in Hornblower’s target city-size near Psychoactive mineral deposits that also have Mentalist dueling rings.”

Thirty-three scanned her copy. “Labria isn’t on here.”

“Labria is larger than his target size,” Sasha replied.

“Then what’s the point of the list?”

Ford cleared his throat and resumed his report with firmer intent. “HERE are all the locations that fit the Hornblower MO and HERE.” Ford hit a button. “Are the ones on the list whose Mentalist dueling rings shut down just this week.”

The list shortened by half. There were still tons of places, but Raz could at least make out some of the words; Fanrong, Malacquie, Azaroso…

Lili stood in her chair. “I know those places!”

Truman nodded. “The bomb sites are included – ”

“No, not those!” She snapped her fingers. “Agent Gette! Report your findings!”

Adam stood straight up, flustered. “The, uh… the TPT team has been hard at work on our full-comic research. This afternoon we found this.”

He opened the comic book he’d brought with him and showed the page around like they were in a library reading circle.

“Here in Issue #202 on page forty-five, halfway through the sixth tale, ‘The Perils of Agent Portia’ is a blackboard with a list of city names.”

Truman lifted the book with two mental fingers and laid the page flat on a lighted portion of the circular console. An enlarged scan appeared in the air, displaying the image of a war-room full of maps and machines. Photocopies spooled out of the table in front of him and Truman distributed those as well. Raz squinted between the overhead display and blurred paper copy. The blackboard was tucked in the back of the middle panel as part of the set dressing. The text was still really tiny even close up.

Lili resumed the report. “Fanrong, Azaroso, and Malacquie are on the blackboard AND in Ford’s list…. but so are the rest of the cities he found! Cavaral, Mexico. Belluchi, Italy. Lovat, Poland… AND Labria, Algeria!”

“Let me see that!” Ford snatched the book off the counter with his mind.

The image vanished and attention turned to him comparing it to the printout of his city list. Compton stood in his chair and peered under Ford’s arm with his reading glasses on. “She’s right. Every city listed in the picture is present.”

“It doesn’t have Buxing or the Siberia city from before he was arrested,” Adam continued. “And it doesn’t list the prisons or the monastery either, but we figure it can’t be a coincidence.”

“What is the context for the blackboard in the story?” Milla asked.

“It’s a list of Psitainum deposits Agent Portia was investigating while looking for the rogue Teleporter, The Great Id,” Adam replied.

“The Great Id is a recurring True Psychic Tales villain,” Lili added.

“And the comic book stand-in for the Farseer cartel,” Otto said.

“He was?” Raz asked.

“He was?” Agent 33 asked at the same time. “Why didn’t we know that?”

“I did,” Otto said. “I’m in that issue.”

“So the Great Id wasn’t actually a Teleporter?” Lili asked.

“The Great Id wasn’t real,” Otto replied. “He’s a fake villain.”

She frowned, eyes moistening a little in frustration and embarrassment.

Raz thought at her privately. ”That was your big breakthrough wasn't it?

“I knew The Great Id wasn’t a real person, most of the supervillains aren't, but I thought for sure him being a teleporter tied back to Pergola somehow, maybe even proved he and the Hornblower are in cahoots.”

“That would have been really good evidence, you’re right,” Raz said. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. Sasha and Milla already told me Pergola wasn't related to the New Thinkers teleporter, so our theory is a bust anyway.”

“Agent Mentallis.” Adam picked up the discussion in the pause. “In the book it says you gave Agent Portia the hologram that helped her save the day. Was that part real or faked?”

“It was real,” Otto said. “Not my finest work, but good in a pinch. The Hologram made the Farseer’s leader believe he was meeting with one of his allies. It was the first test of the software we’re using in this room, actually, and wasn’t much more believable as a simulation, but it got the job done. We ended up relying on Colombia’s local police force to bring him down for real. Thankfully Psitanium powder is considered a narcotic throughout Central and South America, especially when sold to Non-Psychics, so they leaped at the chance to cooperate. He wasn’t in jail long, but we confiscated his stockpiles. There’s a little bit of Farseer contraband in every Cobweb Duster sold in 1962.”

“Are you serious?” Raz asked. “Ford! What year was mine from?”

He snorted. “Not that one.”

“This comic book list is a significant find,” Truman said. “We need to investigate all of these locations as soon as possible.”

“Are you serious?” Agent 33 ripped the printout of the comic page in half and stuffed it into a pouch at the back of her memo pad in disgust. “You’re really going to waste time and resources on a picture in a comic book? Don’t be naive.”

“But Labria – ” Lili protested.

“It’s a list of Psychoactive mineral sites. Labria is a very public Psychoactive mineral site,” Thirty-three snapped at her. “Plus the comic book people published that issue a decade ago! It’s obviously a coincidence.”

“It’s a good point, and I would agree with you, except for the inclusion of Azaroso,” Compton said. “Not only is that village not large enough to draw global attention, but it’s isolated. It has no Mediums, no New Thinker chapters, no sway in the region. It doesn’t even have cable television. There’s nothing to interest the New Thinkers other than its proximity to a Psitanium impact crater, and if the true goal was to find a city Fanrong’s size in South America, there are plenty to choose from with international news reporters and larger populations of Non-Psychics to victimize. The most significant thing to happen in Azaroso happened this week.”

“But it’s a kids’ book!” Thirty-three insisted.

“It’s a graphic nonfiction periodical!” Raz retorted. “And we have reason to believe Hornblower reads it!”

She rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”

“He’s right! The idea for the Mind Bomb CAME from True Psychic Tales to start with!” Lili added.

Thirty-three glared at them. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“We are exploring every possibility,” Milla said with a pointed tone. “It never hurts to be thorough.”

“Which brings us to the reason I called this meeting,” Truman said. He clicked a couple buttons and raised a frame from a grainy security camera in a crowded train station.

“I’ve taken the liberty of tapping security cameras from the remaining cities on my list,” Ford said. “It’s a lot to get through, but I happened upon this frame. This guy right here?” Ford highlighted a figure in the foreground with a ring of glowing green thought. “This is the leader of the Belluchi City Mentalist ring on his way out of town.”

“And this.” Truman applied his own thought bubble to a figure in the back. “Is one of our convicts.”

“What!?” Otto cried.

Compton scrambled to raise his panel of prisoner headshots alongside the frame. The convict was one of the non-exploded ones – an elderly black man with a pale scar on the side of his head. The same scar was visible in the security footage.

Dr. Cao gasped. “It’s him, alright!”

“Belluchi’s on both lists!” Adam added. “He must be heading there to blow himself up!”

“We have to get there right now,” Otto concluded. “Launch a preemptive action. Cut him off at the pass.”

“One problem,” Truman said. “Not long after we were banned from Africa, we were also banned from Europe.”

“Banned from Europe?” Raz repeated, confused. “But nothing even happened in Europe.”

“The EC Psychic Protection Offices conferred with their international peers,” Truman said. “Specifically the OAU’s Mentelligence Agency. Both groups acknowledge that the rumor of our involvement is hearsay, but also note that Europe and North America are the only two continents not yet hit by a bomb. Considering this is a global terrorist campaign, they aren’t willing to take chances, so we have been officially uninvited to visit until the bomb threat is eliminated.”

“And how are we supposed to eliminate it if we can’t get in?” Sasha pressed. “Especially when we have a lead on a suspect. What is the alternative? We let it happen and feign ignorance? I won’t accept that.”

“Nor will I!” Compton agreed.

“And this is why I needed all of your input,” Truman said. “I don’t want this call to be mine alone, and we don’t have a lot of time to make a choice. We have to prevent another attack if possible, but our credibility – possibly our very existence – is on the line here. What do we do?”

“Whatever we can,” Milla said and the others agreed.

Truman nodded proudly. “So let’s hear strategies.”

“We can’t go in like we have the other locations,” Sasha determined. “This is an infiltration mission. A precision strike. Undetected.”

“So we send a solo agent,” Agent 33 said. “I volunteer!”

Truman shot her a look. “No.”

Her face fell. “What? Why?”

“You just got back, darling,” Milla said. “You were in charge of two mind-intensive missions right in a row. You need to take a break on this one.”

“Besides, you’re not as anonymous as you used to be,” Sasha warned her. “Europe and Africa have been sharing notes. Your recent public negotiations might blow your cover.”

She scoffed. “I can blend in as well as the two of you can, Mr. and Mrs. Comic Book Heroes.”

“Comic book drawings are not photos,” Milla said. “We’ve been careful about that.”

“Then I’ll go undercover!” Agent 33’s voice rose. “I’ll locate the bomb and neutralize it before it goes off.”

“I said ‘no’ and I meant ‘no,’ Three,” Truman said. “Anyone else?”

“We won’t be able to land on an airfield, that prevents us from taking one of the passenger gets,” Otto determined. “We should fuel up the Osprey and make a water landing. It can hold ten people. The Psitanium drive can get it there in twelve hours.”

“That might be too late,” Milla said.

“Not if I get to him first,” Ford snickered.

Otto tilted his head. “Are you volunteering for a Psychonauts mission, Mr Grand Head?”

“I admit I don’t want to,” Ford said. “My mind’s in one piece but it’s more stapled than stitched, and I’m not looking forward to having it blasted to pieces if I arrive there too late.”

“I’m working on a warning sensor,” Otto said. “For the Neutralizer. We know the bombs function like a Mind Storm, that involves a burst of Mentalference. I can give you my prototype. It’ll warn you if the Psionic energy of the area shifts so you can bop out before it blows.”

“And leave all of Belluchi mindless?” Dr. Cao prompted.

“No, we do both,” Truman said. “Ford teleports in first to find the guy, and the Osprey arrives as soon as possible just in case we need a recovery team. We’ll beg the EC’s forgiveness after the fact.”

“That’ll look awfully suspicious,” Otto noted. “You want it to look like we WEREN’T involved, right?”

“Belluchi is on the coast,” Compton said. “If we strip the Osprey of our branding and land in the Medeterranian, we can deploy agents by boat for covert recovery. Making a Mental Lasso is a very Psychonauts-y technique, but it’s not exclusive to us. If we compose a cover story…”

“Hollis has already been working on that for her Project Race project. She left her notes on the cork boards. See if you can cobble something together.” Truman said. “I’ll message Mr. Demarrow in the hangar with instructions on the Osprey.”

“If we find the convict before he blows, we should do what we can to take him alive for study,” Otto said. “My Neutralizer research would go gangbusters with access to an undetonated bomb.”

“How do we contain a blast of such size?” Dr. Cao asked. “Perhaps a brainbox? Or a GPC unit?”

“Modern Brainboxes aren’t designed for that kind of thing,” Otto said. “Market-ready ones would rip apart like tissue paper. I’m working on enhancing them with Psilirium lacing, but I’m only in the development stage. My focus has been on other things.”

“And a GPC?”

Otto breathed in through his nose. “It would require testing. Most units would be split open just by the force. Ours, here, could probably contain it but I’d have to run some numbers first.”

“Dr. Blackwell won’t authorize anyone explodable being housed on campus,” Dr. Cao said. “I’m not crazy about it either, for the record.”

“Containing the blast is not necessary,” Sasha said. “We know that the bomb is triggered by opening a series of envelopes. If that action is prevented, so is the detonation, and we can do that with a pair of handcuffs. Additionally, if we take the subject alive, it would give us answers to most if not all of our remaining questions; Hornblower’s location, the chapter of the New Thinkers behind him, the locations of other bombs… It could change the focus of the whole mission.”

“Then we have to try,” Truman agreed. “Plan of action; Ford teleports in and begins searching; Osprey carrying ten agents follows within the hour. All who approve show your hands.”

Everyone but Agent 33 agreed.

Truman narrowed his eyes on her. “Majority rules. Ford, tell me what you need.”

“I’ll set him up,” Otto said, rising.

“Just like old times,” Ford chuckled.

Otto cut him a knowing smile. “I’ll get you that alarm module and a satellite camera. I also have a psychosiesmometer I’d like you to carry in case a bomb DOES go off. I’d rather study him with his brain intact, but short of that, the detonation readings would be just as valuable.”

“Before you go, Otto, I have a proposal of my own,” Milla interrupted. “Assuming we are all free this evening, I wanted to invite the project heads to a private Captain’s Table in the bowling alley tonight. I know there is still a lot to do, but If you can spare two hours at seven o-clock, I think it would be good for everyone’s mental health if they could come.”

“Are you serious?” Agent 33 cried. “A group dinner? Now?”

“It’s going to be a waiting game for the next twelve-to-fourteen hours either way,” Dr. Cao shrugged. “I’m in.”

“So am I,” Compton agreed.

“Not me,” Otto said. “Too much work.”.

Milla cocked her head. “I’m serving sushi.”

He paused. “I suppose I COULD make an appearance…”

“I can’t believe this!” Thirty-three huffed. “The world is at stake and its best defense is having sushi and going bowling!”

“Oh we won’t be bowling,” Otto said.

“We’ll hopefully be drinking,” Dr. Cao agreed.

Agent 33 gawked even harder. “But – ”

“It’s a good idea, Milla. Thanks for taking initiative,” Truman interrupted. “I’ll definitely be attending – hopefully to toast Agent Crullers’s success abroad.”

“Or drown his sorrows.” Otto elbowed Ford in the ribs and hefted his machine parts toward the door. “See you in my lab.”

“What a nice time this is going to be,” Compton said, actually smiling. “I’ll invite Cassie. I wish Bob and Helmut were here. Oh and the others of course.”

“Let them be jealous,” Dr. Cao snorted. “Should I bring Dr. Blackwell?”

“But of course!” Milla smiled. “She’s as much of a senior agent as the rest of us.”

Sasha scoffed. “Not that she’ll come.”

“What about us?” Lili asked. “We’re project heads! Can we come to dinner, too?”

“I don’t see why not,” Truman said. “As long as you’re in bed by nine.”

“Nine? But curfew’s at eleven!”

“And you have an All-Projects meeting at six,” Truman said. “Bed at nine.”

“Aw!”

“I’ll tell you what you miss.” Raz said.

Ford appeared directly behind him. “Don’t you have somewhere to be tonight?”

Raz jumped, his adrenaline spiked. “Do I?”

“Dinner? With your family?” Ford hinted. “Grulovian Borscht.”

Mom’s bribery dinner. Raz had forgotten completely. He grimaced. “Don’t you think a senior-level dinner party is just a LITTLE more important than that?”

Ford smirked. “Listen, son. I’m here because you convinced me to be, but that doesn’t mean I’m leaving my duties unattended. You agreed to family dinner, and I’m counting on you to cover my slack and look after your aunt. Lucy’s bedtime is 7:30. Make sure she takes her meds.”

Raz slouched. “Aw man…”

“Looks like it’ll be up to you, Mr. Gette,” Truman said.

Adam’s eyes widened. “Me too?”

“I’ve been keeping up with your reports,” Truman said. “You’ve stated your intention to lead future projects. That’ll require senior status, someday. It’ll be good for you to see how the team gets along. Maybe do some more networking?”

“Y-yes, sir Mr. Grand Head!” Adam beamed.

“Very good,” Truman said. “Agents dismissed. Drinks tonight are on me.”

Chapter Text

Raz and Lili sat in their seat in the Nerve Center, processing the ramifications of the meeting. Lili was still sulking about her Teleporter discovery being moot and Raz was still sulking about missing the Captain's Table. The rest of the team had returned to their different projects, including Adam, but Sasha and Milla hadn't moved. Raz watched them across the table. They were deep in some telepathic discussion that had Milla's brow knit. Raz widened his perception a little bit, hoping his natural Telepathy might catch a snippet, but their heads were locked tight. Were they trying to keep the kids out? Or somebody else? Agent 33 had also lingered. She sat across from the superstars, pouting furiously with her eye twitching. The negative aura settling over her put Raz's nerves on end. He poked Lili and slid out of their chair The two rounded the conference table to Sasha and Milla's side.

Milla noticed them coming and lost her frustrated look. "Hello there, darlings! Wonderful job on your presentation today. Very exciting!"

Lili lifted her chin. "If by exciting you mean groundbreaking and important, then yes!"

"It can be all of those things," Milla giggled.

Raz turned to Sasha. "Did you tell Otto about our Mind Storm discovery?"

"I left him a memo. He'll read it when he's done with Ford."

"Do you really think catching this bomb is going to change everything?" Raz asked.

Lili was feeling more bold. "Will it mean you don't have to do the whole fight construct combo thing?"

Sasha shifted in his seat. "If the bomb knows the locations of his companions, it targets our attention. Assuming Otto can finish his neutralizer, it will allow us to protect the target cities from becoming more Fanrongs and slow our pace down considerably. We may still need to infiltrate Hornblower's mind, in which case the "Team A" portion of this mission will still be required, but it will buy us time to fully prepare... which is my hope in all this."

"Time is really our greatest weakness," Milla agreed. "Everyone's on edge anticipating where and when the next bomb will detonate. Knowing Belluchi is next on the list gives us a little reprieve, and if the image you presented today is accurate, perhaps we can afford even more, but either way it will take all of us working together for this to work out. We just have to be strong."

"Ahem," Truman interjected. Sasha and Milla both tensed a little. It made Raz nervous. Truman stepped into their midst. “Can we talk?”

Sasha and Milla exchanged glances rose to meet him. Milla turned on her usual smile. “How can we help?”

“I heard about the events downstairs.” Truman raised his eyebrows at Sasha. “Should I be concerned?”

Sasha's expression soured. “About what?"

"You dented the wall."

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but that practice pitch is going to need far more than a new wall. It's starting to look like Swiss cheese," Sasha replied. "If that's a problem, you can divert my lab budget to cover repairs now that those funds are no longer mine."

"Don't be bitter, you'll earn it back," Truman said. "And I wasn't asking about the wall."

Sasha's expression soured further. "I’ve lost fights before, Truman. There was a time before the Psychonauts when I lost a new fight every day on my walk home from work. I am a senior-level combat specialist. I know how to take a hit when one is thrown at me.”

“I know you do. I didn’t mean - " Truman stopped himself short with a long breath. “I didn’t send the Pelican team to recruit a duelist intending one of you to come back as one. This may seem like a natural next step from your perspective, but I'm pivoting mid-stream and it's a lot to manage. As Grand Head, I'm sending my two top agents into an extremely dangerous situation, and as your friend... you understand my concern.”

Sasha dropped his tense shoulders. “We can handle it.”

“I know you can. That's why I approved your fighting lessons. It's why I cleared Milla for construct duty even though she was in an EMP-worthy Mind Storm two days ago."

Her cheeks reddened. Sasha frowned. "Is there a point to this?"

"I just don’t want either of you to think I’m forcing you to do this mission,” he said. “This is not about pride, or skill, or even loyalty. This is about a realistic assessment of the task in front of us. Tell me straight. Are you two okay? Should I pull the ripcord on this project and reassign you elsewhere?”

Milla pressed her lips and addressed her partner. “Tell him what you told me.”

Sasha's jaw muscle twitched. “Is this still the best option we have for accessing Hornblower’s mind?”

"I wish I could say I'd found a better one, but yes it is.”

“Then my opinion hasn't changed,” Sasha said. "It's difficult and exhausting, but its within my specialty and I'm making tangible progress. It hasn't come without setbacks. I'm pressing my mental limits, but Milla's keeping an eye on me. If I stop thinking clearly, she'll tell you. If I'm physically hindered, I promise not to hide it. Lessons with Pergola resume tomorrow. I'll update you if the details of the situation change going forward."

“Alright, I trust you both,” Truman said. "I'll help any way I can. Just say the word."

“Thank you, darling” Milla said. "Your support means the world to us."

"And yours to the world." Truman said. "Did you solve the prime number problem?"

"Unfortunately no." Sasha lit another cigarette, but sounded more casual in the cleared air. “I can move past it well enough - patterns that are even numbers or multiples can borrow the routes of their component numbers, but Pergola was right. My aversion to thirteen is an obvious weak point. He aimed straight for it. And unfortunately I'm not finding seventeen or nineteen any friendlier, either.”

“The music idea didn’t help?”

“It will if I can manage to find the right piece,” Sasha said. “We’ve already gone through everything in my collection; symphonies, sonatas, operas… some of the most complex and intricate passages written by the most brilliant composers in human history and I still can’t find anything that fits my specific needs. The only tune that’s come close is Bavarian polka, which I’ve been listening to for hours.” He appealed to Milla. “Kill me?”

“There, there, darling.” She patted his shoulder. “Perhaps there is something in MY collection that you will like better.”

“Anything would be an improvement. I hear the tubas in my sleep.”

Curiosity spurred Raz to interrupt. “If you hate polka that much, why do even have any?”

Sasha paused mid-smoke as if the question had stalled his brain. He met Raz's eye. “I’m German.”

Truman laughed out loud.

“Mr. Grand Head!” Agent 33 burst from her seat fast enough to make Raz and Lili jump. She marched around the table and inserted herself into the cluster. “Can I speak to you for a moment? Privately?”

Truman appealed to Sasha and Milla, but they were no help. He sighed. “Alright, let's take it upstairs. I’ll see you two tonight.”

He and Thirty-three hit the levitube. Milla addressed Raz and Lili again. "You should probably get back to your team, children. Even if we catch the bomb before he goes off, we'll need to locate Hornblower in order to stop him. There's no time to dawdle."

"We won't, Milla," Raz promised.

She took her partner's arm. "We'll see you later."

The seniors excused themselves and Lili elbowed Raz in the ribs. “Follow my lead.”

“Huh?”

She turned herself invisible.

“Oh!” Raz cloaked himself and the two hurried to the levitube at the back of the Nerve Center. They emerged in Truman’s Grotto just as Raz’s Invisibility started to wear off. Truman and Thirty-three were already at the end of the hall. Lili tugged Raz into cover behind one of the topiaries and waited for the adults to float over the water feature into the Grand Head’s sitting room/office.

Raz’s heart was pounding. “Should we get Harold?”

“No time! Give me your hand!”

Raz did so and Lili turned both of them invisible together. Raz had never tandem-Invisibility’d before. His mind twinged a little, sensing both himself and Lili as shimmering ghosts as they hopped over the stepping stones and into the Grand Head’s sitting room. Truman was at his desk with his back to the Atrium window. Thirty-three was standing in front of him with her hands on the tabletop. Lili tucked Raz behind the couch across from them just as her invisibility ended.

“I only have a couple minutes,” Truman was saying, “What did you want to discuss?”

“I wanted to make sure this was going in my file.”

“Is what going in your file?”

“Oh come on, I pretty much solo’d Labria,” Agent 33 said. “I want to make sure this win is going in my senior status petition.”

“Senior status?” Truman cried. “THAT’S what you wanted to discuss?”

“You told me we could reopen my application if circumstances called for it,” Thirty-three said. “This is ‘circumstances’.”

“After all of that downstairs, that’s what you’re concerned about?” Truman said.

“You gave your Uncle Bob senior status for his leadership in Fanrong,” Thirty-three persisted. “Your Uncle Fullbear got hired AND senior status for his! I should get the same!”

“Agent Zanotto had senior status before we let him go. He was merely reinstated for good conduct.”

“But Agent Fullbear – ”

“I’m not saying it’s off the table, Three, I’m just asking you to be patient,” Truman said. “Keep performing at this level and we’ll discuss it again after the crisis is taken care of.”

“So the superstars get to have a bowling party mid-crisis and I don’t get a promotion?” Thirty-three scoffed. “That’s some preferential treatment, Truman. The others were nepotism hires, weren’t they? Be real with me.”

“You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

“OR…” Thirty-three said. “This is because of me.”

“Not that again.”

“You’re never going to trust me, even after you promised this was a fresh start.”

“This IS a fresh start,” Truman said. “We believe in rehabilitation and self-improvement above all else. Plenty of our agents have criminal records. You are not an exception.”

Raz gasped. ”She WAS a criminal! Norma’s gonna be insufferable when she finds out.”

“Raz, hush!” Lili snapped.

“And how many of these ex-criminals have senior positions?” Thirty-three pressed. “None I bet.”

“One spent years as Grand Head.”

“Compton doesn’t count.”

“He went to jail, he counts.”

“Name another one, then.”

“I’m not going to name more because myself and my predecessors promised them the same thing I promised when I recruited you,” Truman said. “Joining the Psychonauts is a chance to start again on the right foot. They appreciated the opportunity. I hoped you felt the same.”

“I do. Of course I do. But I didn’t simply promise to be a good person for this job, I sold out my friends for this!” Thirty-three insisted. “You’d think that would mean something, but you’re blocking me out at every turn. You won’t even send me on a solo assignment!”

“Three, stop it.” Truman drew a deep breath. “I promised you that joining the Psychonauts would be the start of a new life. No connection to your past, a full cover story for your family, and an expunged criminal record. You’ll notice that I’ve kept my word. Total anonymity… and in a PSYCHIC organization with GOVERNMENT oversight, no less. That was hard work, Three. HR is still pissed off that I inputted your first name as Agent and your last name as a number.”

“Yeah, but my petition – ”

“I told you I’d consider it. Be happy with that,” Truman said. “It’s not my decision alone, you know. Go to the Captain’s Table. Rub elbows with the current seniors and win points with them. If they recommend you, you’re golden, but I’m letting you know right now that if you pull me out of the war room to talk about this again, you’re going back in the drawer. I have no patience for glory-hounds.”

Thirty-three scoffed. “This is NOT about glory!”

“I encourage you to journal about that.”

She scoffed again, louder, and stormed past the couch. Raz and Lili went invisible, just in case she returned for a final jab, but she floated off without a word. A shadow cast over them from above. Raz looked up and saw the Grand Head staring down at them if the two weren’t transparent. A faint cloud of mental energy hovered at his third eye. Clairvoyance. Raz groaned and dropped the camouflage. “...Um…”.

Lili did the same. “Dad, we uh…”

“I know I should be mad,” Truman said. “But I run a spy agency, so let this be a lesson that you still cast shadows when hiding behind furniture.”

Lili cringed. “Oops.”

“And your bedtime just changed from nine to seven.”

“What!?” Lili cried. “But the dinner!”

“Captain’s dinners are for project leaders who don’t spy on their coworkers,” Truman said. “And Razputin, I’ll be telling your supervisor about this.”

Raz cringed, but stalled. “Who…is… my supervisor, now?”

“Hollis is your supervisor.”

“Rats!”

“I also want the two of you to swear something to me,” Truman said. “Whatever you heard just now, that was supposed to be private. I could go in and doctor your memories, it would be in my right as Agent 33’s Grand Head to protect her secrets, but I’m choosing to trust you, instead. You just learned that Agent 33 has a difficult past, but we all have pasts and this agency is not a court of law. Thirty-three has earned a second chance as much as any of us, and whether you uncovered her secrets through spying or in a vault in her mind you are expected to honor the sanctity of her privacy. Do you promise not to share this information with anyone else?”

Raz and Lili exchanged glances.

“If you don’t think you can, I can snip that part out. It won’t hurt.”

“No, you can trust us!” Raz said, quickly.

“I hoped that I could,” Truman said. "I'll see you both in the morning.”

Chapter Text

There was no word from Ford’s mission when Raz and Lili got back down to the Nerve Center, so the Junior Psychonauts returned to the Think Tank classroom to get their report ready for the next morning’s All-Projects meeting. Even if they caught the bomb alive, the paperwork persisted. The mountain of True Psychic Tales issues waiting for them didn’t talk about that part of the job.

“This is the most boring assignment in the history of Psychonauts assignments,” Lizzie whined. To Raz’s surprise, the Natividad sisters had returned after lunch. Adam had given them the ‘find duelists’ category for review, and the pile in front of them was more like a tower. “I’ve already looked through a bunch of these!”

“And it’s even more pointless now that Agent Cruller’s going to solve everything by himself.” Norma tossed her half-read comic into the banker’s box, but hit Sam in the head with it instead.

She peeled the issue off her face. “Rude!”

“You guys have too much faith in that old weirdo,” Frazie said.

She sat in the circle under the entrance walkway with the Junior Agents minus Gisu. Raz was surprised to see her, too. She was technically still grounded from the Motherlobe, but that apparently didn’t stop her from sneaking out. It had stopped Dion. Raz was disappointed at that.

Frazie held a comic page toward Raz for approval. “Okay, Pooter, what about this one?”

It was another sketchy establishing shot with fir trees. Raz looked up from the extra-large pile of unread comic issues he and Lili were feverishly flipping through. Technically he was supposed to be looking for more Thought Provoker appearances, but secretly he was still looking for Teleporters. He surveyed Frazie’s panel. “Nope, that’s not the place.”

“Boo.” She went back to reading.

Raz did the same. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Sasha and Milla about Pergola. Their evidence was enough to convince him, but he couldn’t dismiss his gut. There was something really fishy about the old monk whether he was the one who helped spring Hornblower or not. He’d had a bad taste in his mouth since their first meeting in the mountains, and after watching his mentor get flattened, Raz finally knew which side of the Project Race he was on. Sasha and Milla were doing what they thought was necessary, and he respected them for that, but Sasha didn’t deserve to be treated like a punching bag, especially by someone who was probably evil.

“How about this one?” Frazie asked, showing another panel.

Lili frowned at it. “That’s the same as the last one.”

“It is?” Frazie re-examined it. “No it’s not, there’s a bird in it.”

“They added the bird then, that’s the same picture used twice.”

“Sloppy job,” Morris said from behind his own comic. “They should have some respect for their craft.”

“Cut the artists some slack,” Adam said. He’d been on cloud nine since Truman invited him to the Captian’s Table. It made Borscht Dinner even more unappealing to Raz. “They have hundreds of pictures to draw every month. Who cares if they recycle a picture of trees?”

“I do, because this is apparently my life now.” Lizzie stretched and stood. “I’m going, too. We still on, tonight, Frazie?”

Raz’s hackles shot straight up. “What’s still on?”

“None of your business, Pootie-Patootie,” Norma laughed and winked at Frazie. “Usual place, okay?”

“Usual place,” Frazie nodded.

The sisters floated themselves to the door, passing Queepie and Mirtala who were bouncing and tumbling in from the lobby.

Raz popped up at the sight of his younger siblings. “What are they doing here?”

Frazie blinked at him. “Oh. I’m babysitting. That’s how I snuck out. I said I was taking them to swim in the quarry.”

“Hi Raz!” Mirtala said, bells jingling in her hair. “Where ya been all day?”

He forced a smile. “I’ve been busy. Where have YOU been all day?”

“Oh we’ve been everywhere!” Queepie said. “Did you know there’s a room full of scissors?”

“And one full of lights! And one full of airplanes!” Mirtala cheered. “And I found something else! Meet my new friend!”

“New friend?” Raz cringed.

She popped back into the hall and dragged in a little girl with dark hair in pigtails. Mirtala presented her like the result of a magic trick. “Tada!”

Raz’s reeled. “Zheng Ling!”

“Hi Razzzzzzzzzz!” She prolonged the ‘z’ until both she and Mirtala were giggling.

Frazie stood, her fists on her hips. “Tala! Where did you get that? What have I told you about stealing strangers’ kids?”

“I found her at the food!” Mirtala said. “Did you know they had ice cream?”

“Hey boss!” Queepie hand-springed off Raz’s head and landed next to Morris. “I ran the radio show while you were gone!”

“Good job, Deejay,” Morris said. “Did you play the new song?”

“I played it once, but then I dropped the record and it rolled into the lake.”

“See if you can find it. I’m gonna do a request show next weekend.”

“Ling!” A desperate voice called from the door. Zheng Wei stumbled in, horrified, then heaved a sigh.

“Baba!” Ling pointed down the staircase at Raz. “Look!”

Zheng’s face brightened. “You!”

“Me!” Raz said. “Did you come back with Agent 33?”

Ling translated, but Zheng answered. “Want to help.”

“And you’re learning English!” Raz marveled.

Zheng shrugged one shoulder and gestured to the building around them. “Have to.”

“Number lady made Baba her purse-annant,” Ling said.

“Purse Annant?” Morris asked.

“Personal Assistant!” Lili cried. “Agent 33 mentioned she had one! She must have meant him!”

“Lucky!” Adam said.

Frazie frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means she’s training him one-on-one,” Adam said. “It’s like the mentors in the intern program. Normal recruits gotta work from the bottom up, but personal assistants get to shadow an established agent to do a specific job.”

“So an apprenticeship,” Frazie summarized.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Adam said. “You’re super lucky if you get picked to be one. Agents don’t have to take them like the seniors and the interns. By claiming Mr. Zheng as a personal assistant, Thirty-three’s committed to teaching him everything he needs to know to be a field agent like she is. When he’s ready, he’ll get promoted straight to her level. I was really hoping that Truman would take me on when I graduated. The intern program is like a trial run to see if the mentors and mentees fit.”

“Agent Mentallis is totally going to pick Gisu,” Sam said.

“He is?” Morris asked. “Did the rats tell you?”

“Not the rats. My guts,” Sam said. “I’m actually taking bets for how long it takes. Want in? The over-under is pretty steep so far.”

Morris considered. “Five bucks he files paperwork the minute Hornblower gets caught.”

Sam saluted. “I’ll put you in my book.”

“Ahem.” Lili tapped Raz with her foot and nodded up at the Zhengs. “How do you know these people?”

“Oh, sorry,” Raz gestured. “Guys, this is Zheng Wei. I helped restore his mind in Buxing and he joined the Psychonauts in Fanrong.”

Adam climbed onto the walkway and presented his hand. “Adam Joseph Gette, at your service, Mr. Zheng.”

Zheng shook it, a little confused.

“And these are Lili, Frazie, Sam, and Morris,” Raz continued. “The little kids are my siblings Mirtala and Queepie.”

“Queepie!” Ling burst into giggles again. “Queeeeeepie.”

Mirtala joined her. “Queeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeepie.”

“Queeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee – ”

“Ling!” Zheng Wei interrupted.

She ducked her head. “不好意思.” (speaks in Chinese)

“And this is the… classroom!” Mr. Webb appeared in the doorway behind the Zhengs, holding a reception-desk-distributed Motherlobe map in his hands. “Oh and look who it is.”

Raz dropped his arms. “Oh no.”

“What is this, Grand Central Station?” Morris cried.

Lili scoffed. “What’s HE doing here?”

Raz groaned. “I don’t know, I think he’s stalking me.”

“Well, Mr. Aquato! Looks like we meet again,” Webb said. “I went down to the library to check out that magazine you recommended me earlier and lo and behold EVERY SINGLE ISSUE was checked out by some super high-priority Grand Head approved research project. Who would have thought my imaginary friend was behind it all along.”

“The Librarian was right, Mr. Webb,” Lili said. “We ARE conducting very important research up here. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait for us to finish with the books before you get a turn.”

“Or you can drive into town and buy your own,” Adam suggested.

“I’m more interested in these ones, actually.” Webb tugged his notebook out of his pocket. “What exactly are you researching in here?”

“Like we’d tell you,” Morris said.

“I mean, that’s your choice. But word of advice? You probably should,” Webb said. “Otherwise I have to go to Grand Head Zanotto and get clearance to interview you one by one on the subject. And I’d have to put this evasiveness on the official paperwork, too, of course. It’ll make you all look more guilty than you already do.”

Frazie’s eyes went wide. “Guilty?”

“Oh yeah, you all look super guilty,” Webb said. “And off the record, the President of the United States already assumes your agency is involved in this Psychic bomb terrorism thing, and right now my ‘plus’ column on that one is more crowded than my minus column.”

Lili groaned. “Fine! We’re going through all the comics looking for the Hornblower.”

“Lili!” Raz gaped.

She rolled her eyes. “As I’m GUESSING you know, the Hornblower is KILLING people? So maybe instead of bothering us about comic books, you let us do our job and stop that from happening.”

Webb cut an appreciative smile and tucked his notebook back in his pocket. “I can wait my turn.”

Zheng looked up at Hornblower's name. His brow knit. He asked Ling something in Chinese

Webb answered in Chinese instead.

Zheng spun on his heel, awestruck. “You?”

Raz’s jaw dropped as well. “Wait, you speak Chinese?”

“I think that’s pretty obvious,” Morris lilted.

“That’s why I was sent here,” Webb answered. “I know nothing about Psychics, but this mission has to do with US/Chinese relations, and I can read the party memos in context.”

Zheng rushed Webb, elated and speaking a mile a minute. Webb replied with a smile and soon the two were laughing together.

Raz leaned down to ling “What are they saying?” .

“Baba and the man are getting dinner together,” Ling answered. She tugged her father’s pant leg and asked him a question.

Zheng surveyed the confused children and cleared his throat. “Can Ling…stay?”

“You want to stay and help?” Raz asked her.

Ling jumped up and down. “Yes!”

“Not if you’re counting on me to watch her.” Frazie gestured to the clock on the wall. “We have to get home.”

“Aw,” Ling’s face fell.

Mirtala took the tiara off her head and put it on Ling’s instead. “There! You can keep that until tomorrow when I come back to play more.”

Ling held it to her head as she bounced. “Okay!”

“Come on, Raz, or we’ll be late,” Frazie said. “I don’t need to be more grounded than I already am.”

“Right,” He looked to Adam. “Take good notes tonight, okay?”

“Notes?” Adam asked. “It's a dinner, not a meeting.”.

“It’s gonna be a meeting, though,” Lili said.

Raz nodded. “It's always a meeting.”

“Uh, okay,” Adam said. “I'll do my level best, Team Leader.”

“You better!” Lili ordered. “I want notes delivered to Agent Aquato before 11:00 PM curfew, got it? Raz. Pick me up tomorrow morning and we’ll go over them together, okay?”

“Okay.”

Raz packed up his messenger bag and joined his family in the hall. Ahead of them, Mr. Webb and Mr. Zheng yammered in Chinese, the two men more engaged with each other than Raz had seen either on their own.

Chapter Text

Borscht dinner was the most boring dinner in the history of Aquato family dinners. Donatella made a big deal about how Raz descended from his brain-shaped ivory tower to grace them with his presence. Augustus was glowing with joy to have the family back together and kept beaming at Raz from across the campground in a way that almost made Raz guilty for appearing. Neither asked about how Raz spent his time, or how work was going, or if he was missing the literal coolest thing he could imagine. Instead he was stuck cutting a notch in his family punch-card. It wasn’t that he was UNHAPPY to be with his family, he’d just be HAPPIER about it after the world was saved. As it was, he spent the entire fireside meal checking his watch and imagining how cool it would be to be somewhere else.

Dion didn’t look at him the entire meal, then sulked off to his and Frazie’s sleeping tent before Donatella served seconds.

She did make Raz's favorite biscuits, though, so that was something.

“It’s good to have you with us, Pootie.” Nona’s shaking hand dunked a biscuit into her soup and lifted it, dripping to her mouth.

Raz smiled a twinge and levitated a second one into her bowl. “Are you getting sleepy, Nona? Ford said your bedtime was 7:30.”

“Pah!” She scoffed. “Crully worries so much.”

“He has a lot to worry about. He’s on a big mission right now.”

“Big mission.” She soaked the new biscuit in her soup. “Not so big for my Crully. He saved the world, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

She coughed out a laugh. “You save the world, too. Little Bambino.”

“I’m trying to, Nona.”

“You’ll do it,” she leaned in to whisper. “I know you will. It’s in your blood to want to help people. You will help people.”

He grinned. “Not many people would cross the ocean and try to stop a whole war like you did, Lucrecia.”

“I wasn’t talking about me, smart-breeches,” she said and yawed. “Oh… remembering makes me tired. My bedtime is 7:30.”

“I’ve heard that somewhere.”

She set down her bowl. “Help me up, Pootie.”

“Sure, Nona.”

He offered his arm and walked with her to the sleeping tent she shared with Queepie and Mirtala. The Aquatos didn’t own much that wasn’t performance related, but that didn’t mean they went without. The tent was stuffed with blankets and pillows. Queepie had a couple toys – some given to him as gifts, others he made himself – and Mirtala had a small collection of truck-stop stuffed animals lining her sleeping place like a little private sleeping audience.

Raz held Nona’s hand as she lowered to her mound of colorful pillows. “Do you need anything? A glass of water or something? Ford told you to take your medicine.”

“Oh yes.” She pointed a quaking finger to the tent wall. “The little box.”

Raz fetched it. Inside were a collection of pill bottles with Psychonauts branding. The labels were stacked with words Raz couldn’t pronounce, but he recognized the word “anti-psychoactive” on one of them and the name “Dr. Metradora Blackwell” on all of them.

He offered the box to her. “What are these for, Nona?”

“Crully got them for me. We saw the nice doctor.”

“Nice doctor? At the Motherlobe?”

“Oh yes,” she said. “She gave me medicine for my shakes.”

Raz exhaled and put a hand on her trembling hand. “Has it helped?”

“Don’t know. Crully says ‘patience’,” Nona said.

Raz showed her the anti-psychoactive; a white cylinder with a green cap. “What about this one?”

“That is for the water.”

He bit his lip. Raz assumed Nona’s subconscious was the only thing keeping Maligula in check, but it looked like the Psychonauts were providing some kind of chemical assistance. Maybe a Psychic dampening drug? He didn’t know such a thing existed. “Do they help?”

“Oh yes. The voices… they’re quieter…”

“And does it make it so you can’t use your Hydrokinesis?”

“No, no I can do it but…” She gummed her lip. “SHE does the water tricks so I don’t. I try not to.”

Raz considered the bottle again. “If it doesn’t stop your Psychic powers, what are they for?”

“Nice doctor says… SHE… is a mania. Medicine for things that aren’t there.”

“It stops hallucinations?”

“Yes.” She sighed. “Nightmares are quiet. Memories stay.”

“If it helps you keep your memories, I guess it can’t be THAT bad,” Raz said. He handed the green bottle to her. “I’ll get you that water.”

“Thank you, Pootie.”

Raz ducked out of the tent and found himself in the middle of a circus performance. Augustus was standing on one of the logs with Frazie, Queepie, and Mirtala listening intently. Raz kept his eye on the show as he grabbed a glass and filled it from the water barrel in the back.

“The music swells! And then, when she gets to the edge of the diving board, I light the ring on fire!” Augustus posed with his palm extended and a ball of flame burst in the air before his hand. “Aha!”

“Wow!” Queepie and Mirtala cheered.

“You’re getting good at that, Dad,” Frazie said. “You didn’t even need a pine cone that time.”

He swelled with pride. “I want to add more special effects to the act, but I don’t want anyone to know where or who they’re coming from. I want to awe with mystery!”

“Then why not become a magician instead?” Donatella tutted.

“Because I’m an acrobat,” Augustus said. “If I were a magician, everyone would know I was going to perform a trick before I even did anything! Plus, I don’t want to rely only on Psychic powers. I’ve thought of investing in a confetti cannon! I think that would add a lot of dazzle.”

“Can I ride in it?” Queepie asked.

Augustus sized his youngest child up, but paused too long and felt his wife’s eyes on his back. “You’ll have to ask your mother.”

Donatella didn’t give him the chance. “Ah, Razputin, there you are! When are you coming back to the circus? You have been missing from all of our usual routines.”

“Sorry,” he said. “It’s been really busy.”

“We are up to two shows a week now! People ask where the seventh member of the troupe has gone.”

“They do?”

“Why yes! We have you all over our new posters.”

His hackles rose. “What do you mean ‘all over’?”

“I mean all over!” She snapped her fingers and Mirtala popped up from her seat. The young girl bounded off several boxes and up the side caravan to unfurl a ten-foot poster painted on canvas. The members of the Amazing Aquatos were posed in a ring with Raz front and center wearing his helmet, goggles, and little stripey onesie.

He nearly spilled the glass. “When did you make that!?”

“In all the time you’ve been away from us,” Donatella replied with a razor edge. “The kids have been painting and painting. We’ve hung them along the highway and all over Nanich to bring people out.”

“This is hanging in town?” Raz asked.

“Yes, at the train station!”

“The train station?” He wilted, imagining Sasha, Milla, and Hollis seeing it as they rode to work. “Did you have to?”

“You say it like you don’t want audiences for our performances,” Donatella replied. “Perhaps you’d rather the family business flounder and we go work at your pancake restaurant with the Old Liar.”

Raz’s brow leveled. “Is that the name you’ve picked for Ford?”

She batted her long eyelashes. “I haven’t decided.”

“Mom, I know he has a history, but he’s actually a really decorated Psychonaut. And frankly, it’s rude that you refuse to use their names.”

“Bah,” Donatella dismissed. “Don’t take sides with that trickster. He showed us who he is on the inside.”

“Mom…” Raz started, but couldn’t really argue. The Aquatos were still living in the fallout of Maligula’s reveal and would be for a while. Not everyone’s lives moved as fast as his.

Donatella gave a self-congratulatory sniff as if she’d won the debate.

“Raz! Raz! Watch this!” Mirtala did a back handspring off the caravan and landed feet-first on Queepie’s head.

Raz couldn’t help but smile. “That’s great, Tala.”

“Look at ME, now!” Queepie said. He catapulted his sister straight into the air and did a backflip before catching her head-down with two feet on her scalp.

Raz applauded. “Great job!”

“It’s easier without that pointy crown on,” Queepie said.

Dontatella frowned. “What happened to her crown?”

“I loaned it to my new friend!” Mirtala said.

“Tala!” Frazie hissed and cut a slashing motion across her throat.

Donatella’s eyes narrowed. “Where did you meet a new friend? At the pancake building?”

“No, at the brain building!”

“Tala!” Frazie snapped.

Donatella’s crosshairs switched to her older daughter. “Frazie?”

“She uh…” Frazie stammered, but there was no getting out of it; either she was at the Motherlobe against their mother’s wishes or she’d epically failed at babysitting.

“Now, young lady,” Augustus warned. “Lying is only going to make it worse.”

“I uh… I mean…” Frazie’s face went bright red.

Raz stood up. “I asked her to come!”

Donatella’s crosshairs refocused again. “Come to your work?”

“We needed help with something — ”

“INVOLVING her in your work?” Donatella blustered. “It is one thing to ruin your OWN life, Razputin, you are NOT to bring your siblings down with you.”

“I haven’t ruined anything!”

“Enough, I won’t hear another word,” Donatella said. “You are both grounded to the caravan!”

“What?” Frazie asked.

“WHAT?” Raz cried. “I can’t stay in the caravan! I have work to do!”

“You do not!” Donatella crossed her arms. “I am your MOTHER, you belong to THIS family. You will stay here in our camp tonight, you will perform with your siblings in our circus, and you will stop corrupting them with your dangerous fortune-telling nonsense.”

“But Mom!” Frazie interjected.

“Get in the wagon!” Donatella snapped at her. “And stay in there until tomorrow when we will discuss this further. Understand me?”

“I understand fine!” Frazie retorted. “You’re scared and you’re being mean about it!”

Donatella’s face went purple. “Caravan! Now!”

Frazie stomped to her prison. Raz fumed. He’d given up enough coming to family dinner instead of Captain’s Table, he’d rather be caught dead than sit in a cramped wagon and miss any more Psychonaut events. He TK’d the water glass from his hand to Mirtala’s so fast, the liquid sloshed over her hands.

“Hey!” Mirtala squawked.

“Give that to Nona,” Raz said and turned his back on the fire and started marching.

Mirtala’s voice peaked. “Raz? Where are you going?”

“Raz!” Queepie cried.

“Razputin!” His mother snapped. Raz broke into a sprint.

Augustus’s voice followed in his head. “Razputin!”

He sounded worried. Disappointed. Raz squeezed his eyes shut and ran as fast as he could away from the campsite and straight to the OttoB.O.N hatch. He knew he was making things worse. He hated himself for doing it on purpose, but he couldn’t do what his mother wanted. Instead, he jet himself back to the Motherlobe… the place where he really, truly, actually, belonged.

Chapter Text

The chemical scent of Psitanium and cleaning supplies saturated the air-conditioned atmosphere of the Motherlobe. It was 8pm, and the lobby was pretty sparse. Whether that was because most of them were in the hospital, abroad, or gone back to the Hypnository, Raz couldn’t tell at a glance. Maybe they were all in Italy helping Ford. At the very least, the Private Party sign was still up on the doors to the Astral Lanes when Raz burst out of the Brain-only network.

He didn’t pause to think, even though his heart was still afire with anger and disappointment. He’d run away from home again. It wasn’t as far as before, but it was still running away, and this time he’d left a line in the sand behind him. His mom was furious and his father was heartbroken, but Raz had no regrets. He knew 100% that helping to stop Hornblower was more important than being in a circus and that prioritizing the safety of others was the right thing to do, even if it was over his relationship with his parents. Definitely. Maybe. It’s what a hero would do.

The Thinkerprint door above the Astral Lanes entrance scanned Raz’s head and slid aside, releasing colored light and music into the deserted Atrium. Raz dashed through the inner doors, skidded around the shoe checkout and barreled into the bar expecting a high-class, exclusive, executive soiree. What he found was a long table full of overtired adults and one Adam Gette looking thrilled beyond words.

Otto was at one end, still working on his gadget from the emergency meeting. It had doubled in size with knobs and coils poking out at different angles. Beside him, Dr. Cao was looking pickled with a pyramid of empty beer cans and a cocktail glass in front of him. Thirty-three had apparently helped him with that accumulation, as she sat slumped down to her shoulders in the seat adjacent with a green-tinged scowl on her pointed face. Sasha was on Otto’s right, swirling a chunk of melting ice in a short glass of amber liquid. He listened to Truman and Compton on the other end of the table debating something about mushrooms with each other as Adam took notes.

Milla and Cassie were at the bar poring over a line of cardboard boxes. Milla perched cross-legged on the tabletop with her portable record player beside her. The groovy-looking machine was in full dance-party mode with colored lights and mirrors shooting speckles against the back wall. The sound was coming out of the bar’s karaoke system, which piped her selections through the rest of the room with two giant speakers. She flopped the attached microphone back and forth with her wrist as she and Cassie thumbed through hundreds of sleeved records. The alley’s regular bartender eyed them both with disapproval as he wiped the opposite end of the bar with a cloth.

There were five record cases present – one obviously Milla’s by the themed decoration, two labeled to match the karaoke machine, and two intended for the jukebox which was open with its guts exposed. Cassie pulled a single-sized record out of a cardboard box. “Would this work?”

Milla read the label on the new disk and looked doubtful. She flopped the microphone toward her mouth. “This one is ‘Love Sprain’ by the Contraband. Four-four time. Great use of synths. Let’s give it a listen.”

A poppy instrumental started playing. The tune was vaguely familiar, but it wasn’t until Milla started idly singing along that Raz realized it was a lyric-less radio hit from the bar’s Karaoke library. Sasha turned his ear toward the speakers for a moment, then shook his head and went back to watching the mushroom debate.

Cassie noticed Raz and waved. “Hello there, young man!”

“Hello, darling!” Milla said into the microphone, prompting the rest of the room to note his arrival as well. “What a delight! We didn’t think you would be joining us!”

“I came as quick as I could,” Raz panted. “What’s been going on?”

“About what you see,” Otto said. “Zhi was dancing on the table earlier.”

Dr. Cao swore in Chinese. “Waz not!”

Otto snorted. “Well, he will be in a minute.”

“He’ll be passed out in a minute,” Compton said. “Razputin, have a seat. I’m afraid we ate all the sushi, but I’m sure the bartender can get you something if you’re hungry.”

“No, that’s okay.” Raz said. He was already full of borscht and eating raw fish sounded kinda gross. “I’ll take a drink, though.”

Agent 33 barked an inebriated laugh. “Does the big senior-level child want to start with a cocktail or go straight to the hard stuff?”

“Cute.” Truman slid his untouched glass of ice water across the table to Raz with his mind. “Start with that.”

Raz hopped into the empty seat between Sasha and Adam and gratefully drew the glass to his hand. Adam leaned in to whisper to him. “It’s actually been really fun. Milla opened with an announcement that we weren’t going to talk at all about the mission so we sat around for an hour and talked about the mission.”

“I’m so proud of us.”

“I took a ton of notes.” Adam opened his jacket as if trying to sell Raz a stolen watch and exposed a pocket full of loose napkins. “Don’t worry, I told them all about our research project. They were very impressed.”

“My jaw is still on the floor,” Otto said.

Adam ducked his head, embarrassed to have been overheard. Otto cranked a socket wrench against his wobbling machine.

Raz appealed to Sasha, instead. “Any luck with the musical selection?”

He smirked, drink still swirling as he leaned heavily on the arm of his chair. “At this point I’m lucky to hear something I can tolerate.”

“You’re such a snob,” Thirty-three sniped.

Sasha arched an eyebrow toward her. “If I get killed because of this, I don’t want the last thought I carry to my grave to be ‘Love Sprain’ by the Contraband.”

“Who cares? You’ll be dead.”

“There’s a difference between being dead and being dead and irritated.”

“With his luck he’ll haunt the place.” Otto lifted his machine up to the light. “You didn’t bring an allen wrench, did you?”

Sasha set down his drink, pulled a portable toolkit out of his back pocket and handed it to Otto over his shoulder.

“I’m just saying…” Truman continued with Compton. “If you knew what those mushrooms were thinking, you wouldn’t be so happy to eat them.”

Compton was a shade concerned. “Do they love their children, too?”

“No, they’re mean,” Truman said. “Mushrooms don’t give a single damn. They are swearing at you in mushroom until the moment you pick them and then a little after.”

“That makes me want to saute them more, actually.”

“Okay, here is one of my personal favorites,” Milla said into the microphone. “It’s called ‘Charmeaux’ mixed by DJ One. If the spirit takes you, start dancing!”

She traded disks again and spun up a tune very similar to the one constantly playing in her mind. Dr. Cao stood. “I’m taken, Three! Let’s dance!”

She scoffed. “No way.”

“C’mon get up!” The doctor dragged her out of her seat and proceeded to get his groove on. Thirty-three watched him humorlessly. Raz tapped his fingers on the table. The spirit DID beckon him, and he recalled how healing it was to dance in Milla’s head during the Fanrong mission. After the evening he’d had, he could use some music medicine, but he didn’t want to embarrass himself the way Cao was currently doing. He spied sidelong at Sasha to see if this was the magic tune he needed, but the Psychonaut didn’t react.

“What’s all this?” A barking voice interrupted from the lanes. Coach Oleander stood slightly rumpled with Tonka perched on his shoulder. She flew off to roost on the signage as he cocked his fists on his hips. “A party? Why wasn’t I invited?”

“Morry! You’re back!” Milla said into the microphone. “Does this mean Australia decided against our hlep?”

“Not quite. We came back on the Kingfisher.”

“Kingfisher?” Raz asked.

“Our smallest aircraft,” Sasha replied. “Two-person. Collapses to fit inside larger aircraft.”

“We just landed in the hangar. Check this out.” Oleander pulled a rolled-up newspaper out of his bandolier and flopped it onto the table.

Compton leaned in and read aloud. “‘Psychonaut Threat Mounting.’ Threat!?”

“The story’s a bunch of BS,” Oleander said. “It gets the order of the bombs wrong and the numbers are 100% fake, but it’s everywhere. The articles it references are from all around Oceania. Everyone’s afraid they’re going to be the next target.”

“What can we do to refute it?” Sasha asked.

Truman sighed. “I have a couple ideas, but I’m not sure if they’ll work with Hornblower still on the loose.”

“Hey!” Oleander cried in sudden glee. “Is that Karaoke?”

Milla looked from him to her microphone

The soldier rushed to the box of records. “Got any All Paul in there?”

Cassie pulled out another single and Oleander practically slammed it onto the turntable before snatching the mic and belting out the opening line. Dr. Cao cheered. Sasha groaned and dropped his head back against his seat.

Agent 33 rolled her eyes. “That’s it, I’m going to bed.”

“Aw! Three!” Dr. Cao whined, but she was already leaving.

Truman waved at her over his shoulder. “See you at six.”

She stepped over a brain in a ball on her way past the ball return. It spun in a circle to watch her go before rolling into the bar. “Heya fam!”

“Helmut, you’re here, too?” Otto asked.

“Yeah, the whole no-body thing was freaking people out. I hooked a ride home with Morry and the bird.”

“You didn’t want to stay with Bob?” Compton asked.

“Hey, it’s not like we’re joined at the hip.” He heaved a chuckle. Obviously, he didn’t have any hips. ”Hollis asked me to get the Sane-ctuary ready for when the team comes back. A full week of this kind of work is wearing them out in a Mind Bomb specific kinda way. Best to get our therapists prepared for what they’re going to see in there.”

“I suppose that’s best,” Compton said. He lifted Helmut with his mind and set him safely on the table. “Can I pour a drink in your bowl?”

“Oh my god, YES.”

Raz grimaced. “Can you taste it that way?”

“Tasting isn’t the point.” Otto snorted.

Helmut swung toward the Junior Psychonauts “Oh! Hey kids. Fancy meeting you here. Ain’t this past your bedtime?”

“Curfew’s technically not until 11,” Adam said.

”A rebel! I like that!” Helmut pivoted to Truman. “Oh! Before I forget. Did Morry tell you about the thing?”

“The newspaper?”

“No, the thing we brought from Australia.”

Truman narrowed his eyes. “What thing is that?”

“Thank you! Thank you everyone!” the coach shouted as the song came to an end. He tossed the microphone back to Milla and bounded into Agent 33’s abandoned chair, which slid a foot toward Compton.

Milla shook her head. “Well, I suppose this is a karaoke party, now as well. If anyone knows this next one, come sing along.”

She set another pop tune on the turntable. Nobody got up.

“Morry, did you have something to report?” Truman probed.

He checked an empty basket for steamed buns. “About what?”

“Australia.”

“Oh! Right!” the coach said. “Great place. Did you know everything there wants to kill you?”

“That’s the joke, yes,” Otto said, still tinkering.

“They’ve got Psychic crocodiles,” he noted. “I caught a spider as big as my hand.”

“You caught it?” Adam asked.

“Well, it bit me, but I was holding it at the time.”

“Oooh!” Cassie called from across the bar. She pulled another disk from the jukebox collection and handed it to Milla. “Do this one!”

Milla checked the label and grinned. “Oh! This is a lovely choice.”

“It’s a favorite of mine,” Cassie said. “It’s rare to find anything I’m familiar with in these boxes. So much of it is new music.”

“It’s a mail-in service,” the bartender said.

Cassie and Milla looked over as if they’d forgotten he was there. Cassie cleared her throat. “Well, young man, start mailing in more things from forty years ago and I’ll start buying your drinks.”

“The agency is picking up the tab so do whatever you want,” the bartender replied.

Dr. Cao appeared beside Cassie and leaned on the bar. “In that case I’ll have another of … whatever the last thing you mixed me was.”

He smirked. “I cut you off, remember?”

“Oh come on, it’s been a hard week.”

“You should go to bed too, Zhi,” Cassie said. “You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

“I already regret it,” he said in a hoarse-whisper. “I shouldn’t have even started.”

“Everything in moderation,” she noted. “Have a seat, young man. Drink some water.”

Milla was already humming Cassie’s selection before she put in the pin in the groove. The instrumentals were in a jazzy, brass-quartet style with a lot of pops and scratches like it had been recorded from a copy. The voice on the disk was raspy and soulful. Milla sang along with it in a soft, natural way, as if performing was just something she did sometimes. The sound flooded Raz head to toe with warm tingles without the help of any Psychic powers. Milla’s high tones mixed with the archival noise in a way that enhanced the whole, and her elegant face glowed with it as she lost herself in the joy of melody and harmony. Raz’s heart trilled. She really WAS effortlessly charming, like a piece of music brought to life.

Oleander noticed the stars in his eyes. “You surprised?”

He blushed. “I guess not.”

“You want a turn at the mic next?”

The flush when lava hot. “Oh no, no! I’m not really…I mean…”

“Better get over that stage fright quick if you want to be a Mental Navigator,” the coach said. “Lesson one in mindwalker training is acting lessons.”

“You took acting lessons?” Raz asked both him and Sasha with a look.

Sasha raised his eyebrows. “Lesson two is improv.”

“You took IMPROV?” Raz cried.

He cracked a smile. The song transitioned into the chorus and he sat up a bit straighter. “I actually do know this one.”

Sasha took his glass and moved to the bar with his partner. Milla’s tone sweetened with her smile as he approached. Her voice softened as she offered him the mic, which he leaned in to meet, drawing their faces close as they finished the last couple lines of the chorus together as a duet.

Raz marveled, warmed by the simple joy of the moment. One second in Milla’s glow was enough to banish Sasha’s sour mood completely, and although Sasha wasn’t any great talent, he had no reservations at all about singing over a loudspeaker in front of his friends and coworkers. There was no showboating like Oleander or desperation like Cao. They were serenity and confidence incarnate revealed by scratchy record and a dozen simple lyrics.

Raz wanted to be like them more than ever.

Sasha backed off the mic and let Milla carry the second verse solo. “I’m afraid that’s all I know of it.”

“Is this a song from your childhoods?” Cassie asked.

He sipped his watery drink. “It’s a bit old for us, I’m afraid.”

“Something your parents listened to?”

He coughed, the idea clearly ludicrous.

Milla answered on-mic. “I’ll seek out anything you can dance to, darling.”

“That key change on the bridge is interesting,” Sasha noted. He slipped between the two women for a closer look at the boxes. “Do they have anything similar?”

“Morry? Helmut?” Truman asked, drawing attention back to the table where all other conversation had ceased. “You mentioned a THING?”

“Yeah, show them the thing!” Helmut said.

The coach rummaged in the ammo case strapped to his hip. “So the Pelican landed in Malacquie straight off. The whole town was dementistrated, but the neighboring city had rushed up to help. Hollis had a meeting with the mayor and the Australian Prime Minister at the city hall, which left me and Helmut free to do a little covert under-the-RADAR recon.”

Truman leaned in. “And you found…?”

”About five-hundred loose minds,” Helmut said. “We weren’t allowed to deploy a team, but one volleyball rolling down the street? That can bag some floaters.”

“You painted yourself like a volleyball?” Raz asked. “For real?”

“Heck yeah.”

“Did no one question why you were rolling around on your own?”

Oleander wiggled his fingers cryptically. “We were in disguise.”

“So YOU were dressed as a volleyball… player?” Adam asked.

”Upsetting shorts and all,” Helmut confirmed with pride.

“You’re an inspiration to the team,” Otto snorted.

“AND! While Helmut and I were working the ground, my highly-trained sky-spy was combing the city from the air and she happened to turn up…” Oleander tugged out a plastic evidence bag with a blood-stained envelope inside. “This!”

Truman stood. “Is that – !”

“The trigger envelope?” Compton finished.

“Yepperoonie!”

“Give that here!” Otto cried. He and Truman practically folded themselves over the table with arms extended. Oleander thrust the bag straight up in the air, only for it to be snatched free by blue telekinetic fingers and whisked across the room.

Oleander flailed. “Hey!”

The plastic slapped into Sasha’s open palm and he, Milla and Cassie leaned in for a closer inspection. The dining table emptied to join them. Raz dodged around Adam and inched close enough to peer at the evidence from beneath Sasha’s arm.

The large yellow envelope was addressed to someone named Carlsile Bosco – presumably the Bomb’s name – and sealed with a red string and a wide strip of packing tape. The top of the envelope was ripped open. Sasha flipped it over, displaying a splash of dried blood soaking the street address on the back.

Raz grimaced. “Is that… the bomb’s?”

“Yeah, he stuffed his face in it before he popped,” Oleander said.

“Probably to cover his tracks,” Cassie determined.

“Brutal,” Adam said.

Compton shrugged. “If that was part of the hypnotic compulsion, it would explain why we haven’t found any at the other sites. We’re lucky it wasn’t ripped to shreds by the force.”

Sasha turned the envelope over again. Milla considered the back. “Where does the address lead?”

“The spot he was standing when he blew,” Helmut answered.

Sasha tapped the sealed flap through the plastic. “The bomb in Lowha Lasung detonated after opening a white envelope contained inside this larger one. Is that present?”

“Yeah, we found it in the same alley,” Helmut replied. “It got pretty gooey, so we figured it was a good idea not to touch it too much. We stuffed it back in the big envelope before closing it up.”

“And the local authorities haven’t seen it?“ Truman pressed.

Oleander swelled with pride. “We smuggled it out.”

“Are we sure that was wise?” Milla asked. “The world already suspects us of dubious activity. Should we really be stealing evidence?”

“Hey, Hollis approved it.” Helmut defended.

Truman gestured for them to keep their voices low. “Let’s just… not tell Webb.”

“Fine by me,” Otto snorted.

Sasha unsealed the zipper-top on the evidence bag and slid the contents out with his mind. Raz’s stomach twisted, then knotted as the smaller envelope rose from within its larger companion. It was a plain, white, letter-sized paper envelope, the kind someone could buy at an office supply shop minus all the blood. The triangular flap at the top was glued shut by the stain. Sasha extended one hand to Otto who provided a bagged set of surgical gloves from his coat pocket.

Raz’s gut wrung even tighter. “You’re not going to open it, are you?”

“We will have to sooner or later.”

“Yeah, but the trigger’s probably still in there.”

Sasha replaced his black leather gloves with the sterile ones. “Let’s hope.”

Raz’s mind raced back to Milla’s meditation room and the far-away, Psychic trance Sasha entered post-duel. He swallowed. “Maybe you should let someone else…”

“What’s wrong, kid?” Oleander snorted. “Scared hes gonna explode?”

Sasha took the envelope in both hands and split the new seal. The rest of the team leaned in as he carefully peeled up the paper, extending the pointed flap of the envelope with excruciating slowness until the inside was revealed. Sasha’s head stayed intact. Raz exhaled all his air. The investigator frowned.

“What is it?” Truman asked.

“It’s nothing. It’s blank.” Sasha looked closer at the underside of the flap, poked two fingers inside, even turned the envelope upside down in case there was something to dump out. “And empty. It’s just a white envelope.”

“That can’t be!” Otto snatched the bloody paper with bare hands and repeated the investigation. “There has to be a symbol or a word or…something?”

“We know it’s not scent or sound. Perhaps a two-part detonation system?” Sasha offered. “I’d like to take these envelopes to my lab and run further tests – ”

“No,” Truman snapped.

Sasha actually looked hurt. “But -!”

"YOU are busy."

He frowned. "But I WANT to do it."

“And I want you alive at the end of this." Truman raised his eyebrows at him. "Prioritize, okay?”

Sasha sulked. Milla strung an arm around his shoulders.

“I’ll run the tests,” Otto said. “I’ll start the spectrometer now. Assuming Ford comes back with a hostage, we may find ourselves very busy in the next couple hours.”

“I hope you’re right,” Truman said. “Okay, folks. Captain’s Table is adjourned. Mr. Gette, Mr. Aquato, don't forget about curfew. Get some sleep when you can. I’ll be monitoring Ford's progress all night, 'll page you if anything comes up.”

"I can help!" Adam said. "The TPT research team won't resume until morning. I can stay up."

Truman considered him. "I suppose it couldn't hurt. I'll let you stay until 10:30."

Otto tucked the envelopes back into the evidence bag and marched toward the door. “I’ll be in my lab!”

“Make sure you test for invisible ink!” Sasha called after them. “And temperature sensitivity! It still worked in the cold!”

“Darling,” Milla warned. He removed the surgical gloves and crossed his arms.

“I’ll keep going on the research project. Hornblower won't find himself,” Compton said. “Cassie? Would you join me?”

“Oh I suppose,” she said, feigning disdain. “We should stop and get snacks.”

“Oh yes!”

Oleander raised his arm and Tonka swooped down from the rafters to perch on it. “Welp, my internal clock thinks its 2:00PM. If you need ME, I’m in the garage.”

“Perhaps your time would be better served working on something project-related?” Truman prodded.

The coach scoffed. “Kill-lasers will be project-related in the end, you’ll see.”

“And I gotta check on Bobby’s plants.” Helmut finished.

Raz grinned. “Lili’s been watering them like he asked. They’re bigger and greener than ever.”

“Great! I can’t wait to show him,” Helmut said. “I left him my hat so he can see through it.”

Raz hadn’t noticed the brain ball missing its tiny accessory. He nearly clapped in the revelation. “Through Clairvoyance?”

“You got it!” He sped to the OttoB.O.N. hatch, which opened for him. “See you folks in the morning!”

“Goodnight, Helmut,” Milla bade. She checked the clock on the wall. “We didn’t quite make it to nine, but we got very close.”

“It was all we could spare.” Truman sighed. “Thank you again for organizing this, Milla. I think it helped a lot.”

“My pleasure. Now if you’ll excuse us, SOME of us should go to bed.” She squeezed her partner around the shoulders. ”You’ve been falling asleep all day.”

He smirked. “I doubt I'll have much success."

"Certainly not if you dont try." Milla said. “You too, Razputin.”

Raz didn’t relish turning in. The high of the captain’s dinner was fading, and he knew that the moment he was alone, he’d be back to thinking about Mom and Dad and death duels and all the other things he was trying so hard to avoid. “I’m fine. I can help Truman.”

“Picked the wrong ally here, son,” Truman said. “You have a 6:00AM meeting. Get yourself to bed.”

“I’ll escort him,” Milla said and tugged Sasha’s arm. “I don’t believe either of you will go unless I see it for myself.”

She packed up her record player with her mind and floated it with them, leaving the bartender to reassemble the jukebox and Dr. Cao face down on the bar, fast asleep and forgotten.

Chapter Text

Milla walked Sasha and Raz back to the Hypnository like a pair of sad puppies. Raz was definitely tired – his days were packed to the gills lately – but he didn’t want to be alone in his room. His mind was poised to review the greatest hits of his recent history, and if his head was anything like Gloria VonGuten’s, the players on stage would do nothing but worry, argue, and look at pictures of dead people. That was a show doomed to close with bad reviews.

He trailed behind Sasha and Milla as they exited the Hypnository's underground tram. It was fifty-fifty whether they'd drop him at the elevator and continue into Nanich and their separate condos, or stay on campus and overnight in their adjacent apartments. Raz was glad they chose to join him on the elevator. The place felt safer with them in it.

Milla hit the button to Raz's floor before scanning her own head for penthouse access. She laced her arms around Sasha’s for the ride up. Her partner had spent the trip from the Motherlobe deep in thought and hardly speaking. Raz could feel the weariness hovering around him, although stubbornness encased it like a vault. Hints of the post-duel haze shimmered blue around his head. Raz watched him, confused and concerned. Whatever internal place his third eye was peering into was a stormy one. Milla noticed and ran a hand up his back. The touch brought their familiar Sasha back out, but only long enough to smile at her and retreat in again.

The elevator ‘ding’ed on the fourth floor and Raz faced the inevitable. He sulked out, resigned only to be called back by Milla. She leaned on the open door to keep the car in place. “Razputin, may I request your help again tomorrow?”

His spirits went skyward. “With the construct? Did you finish it?”

She nodded. “I’d like to test it. Assuming we’re not called up to duty again, would you mind joining me after the All-Projects meeting? I promise not to take too much of your time.”

“Yeah! Sure! I mean anything to help.”

“Thank you, darling. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight.”

The car closed and carried the two superstars upward, sucking the brief light of hope away with them. Raz took a long look at his apartment door and noticed voices behind him. Pizza and Bingo Night was still going in the concierge lounge, although only two people were participating. Mr. Zheng and Mr. Webb sat together at a table, placing poker chips on top of bingo cards.

Female RA Stacy Doom rolled the number tumbler and extracted a ball. “N3!”

“N3,” Webb repeated.

Zheng searched his card for the corresponding square. He pointed. “Three?”

“Thirteen,” Webb corrected.

Zheng paused to process. “Shísān.”

“Shìde.”

“Mr. Webb? Mr. Zheng?” Raz jogged up. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, if it isn’t my Imaginary Friend,” Mr. Webb said. His Bingo card was only partially filled. The number 3 sat bold and uncovered in the ‘N’ column, but Webb did not seem to care. “You’re on the fourth floor, too I take it? Or are you here for Bingo?”

Raz stalled. “You’re sleeping on my floor?”

“The Grand Head stuck me and the other new recruits down here because there were a lot of empty rooms, so…” He elbowed Zheng to include him in the conversation. “Howdy, neighbor.”

“Hi, Mr. Zheng,” Raz said. “I’m guessing Ling is asleep?”

“Ling?” Zheng processed the question and answered in English. “Yes.”

Raz’s heart twisted with a twinge of shame. “Can you tell her that my sister won’t be able to play with her tomorrow? I got in a fight with our parents and… I don’t think any of my siblings will be able to come visit for a long time.”

Webb translated for Zheng whose brow knit. He nodded to Raz, obviously sorry to have to deliver disappointing news. He asked a question in his native tongue and paused for Webb to relay it. Webb glanced between them. “He’ll let her know. And he says he’s sorry to hear about your fight… thing.”

“It’s okay.”

Zheng spoke again.

Webb looked even more uncomfortable. “He says he knows family’s important and he hopes you all patch up whatever it was that you fought about. Apparently his wife passed away a bit ago and you know how that is for someone.”

Raz was starting to feel uncomfortable as well. “Right, yeah. I um…. I should probably go to bed.”

“One sec.” Webb leaned back in his seat and tugged his crinkled notebook out of his back pocket. “Wei told me all about what you did for him in Buxing, and the way you all conducted yourselves in Fanrong and Labria. Pretty complicated setup.”

Raz braced himself for the worst. Zheng Wei was brand new, probably not even officially hired, and definitely not briefed on Truman’s proper Dealing-With-the-CIA etiquette.

Webb noted Raz’s face with a more reassuring look. “I think it’s pretty clear I’m on my back foot about Psychics and Psychonauts, but I know helpers when I see them. Wei’s got a good heart. It's possible that he’s been brainwashed into joining your group – you ARE Psychics after all – but he’s Psychic too, so I’m inclined to believe him when he says you’re helping not harming. And off the record, I’m glad you, specifically, were there to help him and his daughter. I sincerely hope you all are on the money, because if you are, you’re doing good work.”

Raz heaved a shaky breath. “We’re trying our best.”

“As am I.” Webb readied his pencil. “I was looking at True Psychic Tales magazine. What do you know about its creation? The pages in the back ask for submitted stories.”

“I actually know a lot about that, now,” Raz said. “TPT is a third-party publication that uses the Psychonauts for content. It’s also a revenue stream for us, as they license our stuff and pay us for fact-checking and promotions and things.”

“What percentage would you say is true? 50%?”

“All of it’s true!” Raz insisted. “I mean except the names of people and some of the places and probably half of the supervillains. For every Hornblower out there, there’s a Mentalist group or a Deluginist cult or something that’s easier to present as a single person for a twelve-page story. Plus the Psychonauts have to protect the facts sometimes, and the publishers have to keep it PG rated for kids.”

“I see.” He made a note. “ The ‘Deluge of Grulovia’ issue you said was particularly inaccurate?”

Raz cleared his throat. The comic in question suddenly felt very heavy in his bag. “That’s because the investigation’s been reopened.”

“I see. I suppose I’ll have to check with Records on that one, then.” Mr. Webb jotted another line. “And do you, yourself, speak Chinese?”

“Uh, no.”

“Are you or have you ever been a member of the Chinese Communist Party?”

“No, sir.”

“Do you have any familial ties to the People’s Republic or it’s Psychic Soldier division?”

“They have a Psychic Soldier division?”

Webb smirked and put the book away. “That’s all I needed to know from you, young man. Thank you for your time.”

“Um, okay.” Raz’s stomach gurgled. “Goodnight Mr. Zheng. Goodnight Mr. Webb.”

The CIA agent nodded. “Goodnight Mr. Aquato.”

Suddenly Raz couldn’t get into his apartment fast enough. He jogged to the door and leaned in to let the Thinkerprint plaque scan his head. A voice hissed in his ear.

“Psst!”

“Ahh!” Raz jumped and spun. Webb and Zheng were still playing Bingo. The apartment doors in either direction were all shut, the rooms either empty or locked. No one was in the hallway.

The voice hissed again, this time from the other side. “Open the door!”

“Ahh!” He jumped again, but recognized Frazie’s voice. He spun a circle, but didn’t see her. “Where are you – ?”

“Hurry, Nimrod! I can’t do this forever!”

The Thinkerprint lock flashed green and Raz unlatched the door. A rustle moved past, swinging the portal wide and exposing a view of the dark, empty bedroom. Raz shut the door behind him and flipped on the light. “Frazie?”

The quilt on his bed vanished, then reappeared wrapped tightly around his older sister’s shoulders. Her hair was stuck with sticks and leaves and her striped tights were more tattered than usual. She stood, back bent and blushing with embarrassment. “I’m Psychic.”

“I see.” He stepped toward her, but she flinched away. Tears shone in her eyes and on her cheeks where dirt from the forest was washed clean in tracks. “What happened to you?”

Frazie sniffed. “I sneaked out of the wagon after you left. Norma and Lizzie were going to meet me at their normal hangout spot. The tunnel under the Funicular – you know it. So I… I turned invisible and climbed out the window.”

“Like you always do,” Raz finished.

She slouched further. “I already knew you knew. Don’t make a big deal about it.”

“Okay, don’t worry. Go on with your story.”

“So I went to the hangout spot and the girls weren’t there yet. I thought I beat them there, but then suddenly the fire barrel went up. I jumped and while I was distracted, they…” Frazie cringed hard, pained by the memory and the act of retelling it. Instead of elaborating further she let the top of the quilt droop past her shoulders. Her circus costume was barely holding on to her neck. The ruffle hung slack, and the bodysuit below it was torn free of the stitching with only a frayed tangle of loose threads keeping the sleeve attached. She tugged the blanket back up to avoid showing her little brother any more skin than she had to, but he could tell the whole thing was ruined and he could guess as to why.

“Norma and Lizzie did that?”

“They set a trap for me.” Frazie hiccuped a sob. “They were hiding in the bushes and used their stupid mind powers to grab my costume from behind. I think they wanted to yank it up over my head, like as a prank maybe? But they didn’t know it was a bodysuit so it just… I mean you saw it!” She sank onto Raz’s bed, her face in her hands. “I went invisible and ran away as fast as I could.”

Hot fury surged up Raz’s neck and down his arms. The Natividads had been planning something as far back as Fanrong hospital and he’d been too busy with the Hornblower mission to investigate further. If he’d known what they intended, he could have saved his sister this grief. Raz balled his fists and stormed over to face her on the bed. “This was more than just a prank, Frazie. Lizzie and Norma did this on purpose to out you as a Psychic.”

“Well, it worked, then.” She wiped her face. “There’s no way they didn’t see me go invisible. I just can’t believe they’d jump me like that. And to think I called them my friends all this time. I’ve never felt so… so targeted.”

Frazie tucked her legs up and pulled the quilt over her head to become a miserable little ball. Raz sighed and summoned the green-gray Psychonauts sweater hanging in honor above his bed. He held it to her in both hands. “Put this on. It’s the sweater Sasha gave me on my first day as an intern, when Norma and the other Juniors pulled the same kind of prank on me.”

The blanket opened enough for her eye to appear. She studied the sweater and it’s Psychonaut logo skeptically. “Sasha’s Work Dad, right?”

“Yes, Sasha’s Work Dad.” Raz rolled his eyes. “Go on, take it. It’s too big for me, so it’ll probably fit you alright. You can keep it.”

The pause extended a beat before she extended two fingers and sucked the sweater into her cocoon by the sleeve. Moments later she emerged in the Psychonauts uniform with her tattered costume knotted into an additional skirt around her waist. The sweater fit a little better on her than it did on Raz. The sleeves were still too long. She balled them in her fists and hugged herself. “Thanks.”

“You look good,” Raz said. “Almost like a Psychonaut.”

“I guess this means Norma got what she wanted.”

“Wearing the outfit doesn’t mean you’ve joined the agency,” Raz said. “But you’re right, they both really want you to join the intern program. They even asked me about it.”

“And what did you say?”

“I said to ask you.”

Frazie snorted. “I guess I should be flattered.”

“They’re upsettingly aggressive about team building,” Raz said. “For what it’s worth, I think everyone likes having you around, but no one would blame you if didn’t want to join up after all this. It’s not compulsory. Same for admitting your Psychic. Even if I figured it out, you didn’t have to tell me if you didn’t want to… I mean before all this happened.”

“It’s okay, I’m kinda glad to admit it,” Frazie said. “At least I know you’ll be good about it. I don’t know about Mom. Or Dion. Or like… the rest of the world. Hanging out with your Junior Psychonaut friends was warming me up to it but after this...” She shivered. “I can’t believe I actually trusted them.”

“I mean I can’t blame you for that. What’s the alternative? Trust nobody ever?” Raz asked. “This was on them, Frazie, not you. They’re the ones who showed their true colors.”

She sighed again. “The worst part is that they were the ones I was going to tell. That I was Psychic, I mean.”

“You’d tell them before you told me?”

“No offense, but you’re my little brother,” she scoffed. “Lizzie and Norma were cool, you know? Like best friend material. I wanted them to like me. I was even starting to – “she stopped herself, blushing harder than ever.

Raz tilted his head. “You even started to what?”

“LIKE them. Well, one of them. I like both of them but I LIKE one of them.”

His hackles inched higher. “Which one do you like?”

Her blush went from red to crimson. She averted her eyes. “… Norma”

“Ew! What? Why?”

“I DON’T KNOW!” Frazie threw up her hands and collapsed backward onto his bed. “She was just cool and confident and in-control all the time. I thought she liked hanging out with me, too. You get that vibe when someone likes you back? Lizzie’s cool, don’t get me wrong, but Norma’s just… I dunno, intense. Every room she’s in she’s automatically the one in charge and she knows it. That really gets me, you know?”

Raz bit his lip, flush with his own embarrassment. Frazie was right about Norma – if you ignored the fact that she was a jerk – but she could have just as easily been describing Lili. Or their own mother. He suddenly understood more about himself than he wanted to know.

“I’m such an idiot,” Frazie said to the ceiling. “Moron of the century. The dumbest person alive.”

“No you’re not. Even Psychics can’t tell the future,” Raz said. “I mean, some can, but they don’t know everything..”

She propped up on her elbows. “So what should I do now, then, Fortune Teller? Forgive and forget?”

“I mean, I didn’t say THAT,” Raz grimaced. “It’s totally understandable if this ruined your friendship. I mean, they hazed me, too, when I got here and we worked through it, but that doesn’t mean it’s the right thing for everyone. I could have gone straight to Hollis and filed a complaint if I wanted to. Norma probably would have if it happened to her. Is that what you want me to do for you? Because I’ll do it first thing in the morning.”

“I don’t want to get anyone fired or anything.” Frazie flopped again. “I don’t think Norma and Lizzie wanted to do anything more than embarrass me – and prove I’m Psychic, I guess – but it’s not their fault our costumes are held together by safety pins. I’m really mad at them right now, but if they apologize then maybe we can patch things up.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I don’t know what I want!” She flopped her arms against the mattress. “I feel like a wreck!”

“Maybe… you want to spend the night here? Then you can think about it in the morning.” He raised his eyebrows. “It’s better than being grounded to the wagon, at least?”

“That’s true.” Frazie stared up, her sad, shameful expression replaced by the cool consideration of his sassy older sister. “I guess I could stay.”

“You take the head, I’ll take the foot?”

“Alright.”

Raz didn’t bother getting undressed or brushing his teeth. The two snuggled in side by side under the same blanket like the thousands of times they’d shared a tent on while the circus was on the road. Raz let his chest muscles relax. His life had become a roller coaster, and he really was tired from all the twists and turns, but with Frazie curled up beside him it felt a bit better. More normal. All the dark thoughts he was avoiding were less oppressive simply by having someone else in the room, and knowing that his sister shared similar experiences; their parents, being pranked, the hospital in Fanrong, and being Psychic… for real this time. Maybe in the morning, they could finally talk about it out in the open and some good would come out of the situation in spite of the bad. To his surprise, he actually felt hopeful.

Frazie rolled over and tugged the quilt clean off him. Raz let out a contented sigh and used a TK finger to turn off the light.

Chapter Text

Raz was not awakened by an all-hands-on-deck bug-out-for-Italy alarm in the middle of the night. He woke up to his 5:30am All-Projects Meeting alarm with Frazie still asleep beside him. He tiptoed through the room and scribbled a note in the dark explaining how to use the tram system to get REAL breakfast at the Motherlobe, and hurried upstairs to pick Lili up from her apartment. She popped out as soon as he knocked and slammed the door as hard as she could behind her.

Raz cringed. “Still mad about being grounded?”

“Worse! My mom called last night!” Lili shouted. “She wants me to back home TOMORROW!”

“Tomorrow?” He recoiled. “I thought you had another week before school started!”

“I do! But she wants me home for ‘Mom Summer’ before the school year!” Lili whined. “I was supposed to be there already but they gave me two extra weeks because dad got kidnapped and stuff. Now Mom’s cashing in and wants to take me to the coast for five whole days!”

“Can’t you ask her for more time? The world is at stake!”

“Mom won’t care about that,” Lili said. “I mean, she cares if the world ends, but she doesn’t think I’m old enough to be involved in Psychonauts stuff. She wants me to have a normal childhood. Like I’d be considered ‘normal’ anywhere other than here.”

Raz reeled a moment. On top of all the things that were going on with Frazie and Hornblower, now he had to figure out how to keep his partner in crime from being exported to the other side of the country.

Lili must have read his mind… or maybe just his face. “Don’t worry, Raz, I’m not getting shipped off THAT easy.”

“You have a plan?”

“Not yet, but there’s no way I’m leaving at a time like this,” Lili said. “Did you talk to Adam about what happened at dinner last night?”

“I actually made it there myself,” Raz said. “And that’s only half of it!”

Raz spent the whole elevator and tram ride to work recounting the evening’s events starting and ending with Aquato family drama that Lili rolled her eyes at. They disembarked at the Motherlobe and rode the lift to the Atrium where they dashed straight for the Noodle Bowl in the hopes that the coffee club was meeting again, but there were no seniors in sight. A pit formed in Raz’s stomach. “You don’t think they went to Belluchi without us, do you?”

“Surely they would have told us.”

“Surely?” He could easily see Truman or Milla leaving them behind to protect them… or Agent 33 doing it out of spite. He tugged LIli’s arm. “Let’s check in the Nerve Center.”

The two levitated their way across the Atrium and skidded through the door locks into the sunrise-tinted command center. The club and their coffee was clustered around Compton’s research station to the left of the door. Raz counted everyone exept Agent 33 was missing, Helmut (who was likely sleeping,) and Dr. Cao (who was probably hungover.)

“He has to be somewhere.” Truman spoke into a handheld radio. “Are you sure he wasn’t at the hotel?”

“YES I’m sure!” Ford’s cranky old voice hissed through the speakers in the computer bank. “I been out here for twelve hours. If ain’t around the next corner, I’m going home.”

Milla touched Truman’s arm and took the reciever. “Hang on a little longer darling, the ground team is making their descent.”

The speaker popped. “Yeesh. Finally.”

A series of still images cycled on the console’s main screen, displaying the Belluchi streets.The picture changed every thirty seconds, just like Ford’s security camera footage back at the Gulch, and mapped the old man’s progress up a cobblestone alley.

“So you haven’t found the bomb yet?” Raz asked.

“He’s been looking all night,” Sasha answered. “Truman’s mapped his movements but it’s difficult with our new restrictions. Being locked out of Europe removed our permissions to use the local security systems.”

“So we can’t look for the guy on the cameras?” Lili asked.

“Your father did some sneaking around, so we were able to track him a little bit,” Milla said. “We’re just grateful he hasn’t set himself off.”

“In the meantime Ford’s walking around dressed as a tourist to explain why he’s got a camera around his neck,” Otto said.

Oleander leaned down conspiratorially. “We got a photo of his reflection in a window a bit ago? Hilarious. Keepin’ that one for blackmail.”

“Morry,” Milla chastised.

“He was always good at disguises,” Compton noted.

Oleander grunted. “You know, if you used the A/V kit from my Aerial Surveillance system, the camera's be a lot smaller.”

“And how far does that bird camera transmit?” Otto asked.

“A quarter of a mile!”

“Yes, well, Ford is in Italy,” Otto said. “I win, you lose.”

Truman pressed his fingers to his temple and took the radio back. “Recon reports the Osprey has landed in the Mediterranean. Ten plain-clothes agents will be approaching by boat. Head toward the shoreline, Ford. Keep looking along the way.”

Ford groaned. “Alright Mr. Grand Head, but this is no way to treat an old man.”

A mirror copy of the satellite photos was displayed on Compton’s research terminal, where a facial recognition overlay scanned them for matches. The camera caught the entrance of a train station. Compton’s computer flashed a warning light. “There’s a possible match .”

“This better not be another false positive,” Ford groused. He headed toward the station, snapping photos on the way.

A large dark-skinned man was purchasing a ticket at the window. Raz recognized the scar on the side of his head. “That’s him!”

The computer confirmed on the next photo as the man turned and made direct eye contact with the camera.

“Uh oh.” Ford said.

The next photo was of the bomb's retreating back.

Oleander coughed. “We got a runner!”

Ford's next photo was twenty yards closer to the train station. The photo after that was a dozen yards more. The scarred man jumped the turnstile into the station lobby and vanished into the crowd.

Truman shouted into the radio. “Don’t lose him!”

Ford’s next photo was a shot from the station’s metal rafters like one of the pigeons. Compton’s computer spotted a possible match.

“Third platform!” Truman said.

The next shot was on the ground. The bomb was boarding the train. Ford pointed the camera at the train's number and snapped an additional photo before teleporting into the crowded car.

“I lost him,” Ford said. “We're pulling out. Is he on the platform?”

Compton typed on his console and a new holographic panel appeared with Italian labels in the corners – a hacked security camera. He ran it through his facial recognition. “No alerts on platform three.”

Sasha accessed another computer console and pulled open a train schedule. “Your line heads north, then west into France. The next station has possible connections to Germany, Croatia, and Austria.”

“Is he fleeing the country?” Milla asked.

“But why?” Lili demanded. “He’s already in Italy and Belluchi was on both lists!”

“There are also places in France and Germany on those lists,” Compton said.

“Yeah, but he’s IN Belluchi right now!” Lili said. “Why waste the time going there if he's not gonna blow it up?”

“We'll worry about that later,” Truman said. “Ford, advance to the next car. We need to make sure he's still aboard.”

“Okay but we’re walkin’ this time. I can’t teleport on a moving train on zero hours of sleep. Not unless you want me standin’ on the tracks staring at the caboose.”

“Do what you can,” Truman turned to Milla. “Ping the Osprey. Give them new landing coordinates. Meet the train at the junction.”

She pressed her temples. “I’m on it.”

The photos moved slowly down the train car, going at the agonizing speed of Ford’s feet. Every thirty-second photo felt like it took a million years as he transitioned from car to car, snapping iamges left and right as he went. Compton’s computer stayed quiet.

Milla looked up. “Wait.”

Ford paused.

“Go back the way you came. Look left.”

The photos obeyed her instructions. A figure was sleeping against the window with a leather jacket over his head.

Milla pressed her temples tigther. “I'm getting a sense of Iintent from that man.”

“You can pick up bad vibes at this distance?” Oleander asked.

She smiled withe her eyes. “Distance means nothing in the Collective Unconscious, darling.”

The jacket flew asied, exposing the bomb. A large envelope was on his lap. A small one was in his hand.

“No!” Raz cried.

“Ford!” Truman yelled.

The next photo was of Ford's hands clamped on the bomb’s wrist and a clear view of the envelope flap folded open. The following shot was of open sky. The next shot was static.

“Ah!” Milla flinched.

“Ford!” Truman shouted. “Ford! Come in!”

The next image was a shot fo clouds with a smear of Ford’s arm flapping in the wind. The headless body of the bomb was in freefall beside him. Raz stared at the shape until the image turned over to display the ground from eighty feet in the air.

Raz's heart was in his throat. The radio crackled.

The next shot was of the horizon.

The radio coughed. “Dagnabbit.”

“Oh, Ford,” Milla sighed. She dropped her head onto Sasha's shoulder. He was holding her hand.

“You alright?” Truman asked.

“I TOLD you I didn’t want to stitch my brain back together!” Ford raved. “I TOLD you!”

“Did he blow in the air?” Oleander asked.

“Yeah, I carried him up. ”

“Was it high enough to avoid the train?” Sasha asked.

The radio hissed. “Please, I’m a professional.”

The images watched Ford float down to the train tracks. Once landed, he teleported to the bomb's discarded body. Raz squinted, but it was little more than a dark smear on the black and white film.

Oleander coughed a laugh. “Intact brain nothin’! That’s not even an intact guy.”

Truman sighed. “Good work, Ford. Wait there. I'll tell the Osprey team to make haste. They'll be there as soon as possible.”

“Tell them to scrape up what they can,” Otto said.

“Sounds a plan,” Ford said. “They’ll find me asleep. Good thing I like camping.”

“Ford,” Milla warned.

He ignored her. “Cruller out.”

Truman dropped the radio receiver and severed the connection. “Damnit.”

Oleander snorted. “He's gonna be hella sunburned when they get there.”

“At least he didn’t explode in the city center,” Compton said.

“And Psychosiemometer was running,” Otto noted. “We’re not out of the woods yet but we’re at least on the path.”

Milla sighed. “Any progress is welcome.”

Sasha released her hand to thumb at his chin. “He must have detonated himself to avoid being caught. That means the bombs are not purely driven by hypnosis. They can decide to detonate regardless of the instructions on their envelopes. What are the odds we can recover the pair he used? That could tell us if his target was really Belluchi or not.”

“I’ll tell the Osprey team to check the train for it, but if he carried them into the sky, the odds of finding them are pretty low,” Truman said.

“Assuming he WAS supposed to go to Belluchi, why did he run?” Otto asked. “If it was cold feet, it wasn’t about dying.”

“Maybe he had a crisis of conscience,” Milla offered.

“Or someone tipped him off,” Oleander said.

The group regarded him, then each other. Truman’s face steeled. Raz swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. If Truman’s suspicions were right and there was still a leak in the Psychonauts, it was possible the Hornblower tipper-offer was one of them. But who knew about Belluchi? The senior staff did, of course. And the third shift who was watching the monitors for him, and if the Motherlobe Rumor Mill was spinning at full speed, probably everyone else in the building. Even Pergola could have found out if he was really the leak. Raz still didn’t trust him, but he was starting to admit that was more of a hunch. Raz cast a worried look at Lili who was feeling the same. Twelve hours had passed between the emergency meeting and the bomb explosion. How could they possibly narrow the suspects enough to present their theory to Truman or Hollis?

The Nerve Center doors opened and closed, admitting the missing team leaders; Helmut, Dr. Cao, Agent 33, and to Raz's dismay, the Natividad sisters. Rage flushed all of the fear and doubt from his system.

He poked Lili with his mind. “I’ll be right back.”`

Chapter Text

“Hey look, it’s Team Leader Aquato,” Lizzie said, aloof and casual as if she and her sister had not committed an assault the night before.

Raz charged across the Nerve Center and straight until their smug faces. “I want to talk about what the two of you did to Frazie.”

“You mean besides proving we were right about her being Psychic the whole time?” Norma asked.

“Can it!” He snapped. “You took advantage of her trust, invaded her privacy – ”

“Oh come on, it was no worse than pantsing someone,” Norma insisted. “It wasn’t like we embarrassed her in public, it was just us.”

“And we didn’t see anything. Because she went INVISIBLE like we KNEW she would,” Lizzie added.

“None of that’s an excuse!”

“Ugh!” Norma rolled her eyes. “You really are such a goody two-shoes now that you’re in tight with the senior staff. You didn’t care half this much when we locked you in the closet.”

“It’s one thing when you pull a prank like that on me, but it’s something else for you to pick on my sister,” Raz retorted. “I want you to apologize to Frazie and don’t tell anyone about her being Psychic until she’s ready to tell them herself.”

“Too late for that,” Lizzie said.

Norma nodded. “All the juniors know.”

“All of them?” Raz gaped. “You bragged about it?”

“Come on, no we didn’t,” Lizzie said, but her voice was less cocky and a blush was spreading across her nose. “We just told them she was Psychic. They’re really happy by the way. Can’t wait for her to be an intern.”

“Why? So they can haze her, too?”

Lizzie bristled. “No. We just really want her on the team.”

“If you think she’s going to want to hang out with you after last night, I’m going to have to disappoint you,” Raz said. “Apologize, then leave her alone. I mean it.”

Norma turned sour. “I think that’s up to her.”

“Yeah,” Lizzie agreed without conviction. “We’ll see what she says.”

“Okay folks, it’s six. Let’s get this started,” Truman said. “Circle up.”

The All-Projects team returned to their previous spots. Agent 33 took Raz’s chair again, so he and Lili had to share. Norma and Lizzie took a standing position behind Compton’s seat. He swiveled toward the Grand Head. “Shall I start?”

“No, let’s hit the highlights first.” Truman turned on the holographic console. “We’ve got a conclusion to the Belluchi mission. Ford found the bomb and managed to drive him out of the city before he exploded. This wasn’t the optimal outcome, but it’s not quite a setback. The Osprey team reports that Ford’s just been recovered. After a couple hours’ sleep, he’ll teleport home for a full debrief. The rest of you should continue your projects in earnest. Locating Hornblower and dredging his mind is still our ultimate goal, but anything faster or safer is always welcome on my desk.”

“Bummer, though,” Helmut said. “I was really hoping this’d be over by now.”

Raz had to agree.

Truman continued. “Hollis, Bob, and team are officially on their way back from Australia. Most of you were at the dinner last night to welcome Morry and Helmut home ahead of them. I’ll let them give the progress report.”

“Thank you, Mr. Grand Head!” Oleander stood and cleared his throat. “As we all know, Australia let us cross its borders in an administrative position. We were not to take action on the ground, our teams spent the time educating the Australian Department of Minds in the proper execution of the Zanotto-Fullbear mind recovery method. At the same time, Team Leader Forscythe took egghead meetings with government officials trying to get us more permissions. Suffice it to say, I’m not happy with all this. The time we spent in classrooms could have been spent saving lives, and that’s gonna show up in the cork board tallies.”

“This makes me sick,” Agent 33 spat. She had dark circles under her eyes from the previous night’s beer tower, although the scowl on her face was the same one she wore every day of her life. “The world should be begging us to help them, not tying our hands behind our backs.”

“We can only do what we can do,” Truman said. “Oleander brought some new evidence back with him from Australia. Otto, did your tests return anything useful?”

“Not really.” Otto tugged the sealed evidence bag out of his coat and displayed the envelopes through the plastic. “No hidden messages. No codes. No nothing. And the envelopes themselves are not anything special. I will say that I got a huge box of materials overnighted to me from the Mongolian prison day-one to help with my Mind Bomb research, and both the large envelope and the smaller one match the stationery provided by the prison. The larger envelopes are even production cousins to the initial letter I got in the mail, so I’m confident they not only came from the manufacturer but probably arrived within the month in one big box. Both of the envelopes Oleander brought are absolutely covered in fingerprints. The smaller envelope only has the MQ bomb’s and Horatio’s – and mine, but I know when I put mine there – but the outer envelope also has Chablis Jeaune’s prints.”

“The teleporter the Neenks sprang from Antarctica,” Oleander concluded.

“Yes, her. Horatio must have handed these to the bombs through her portals.”

“That could confirm our earlier suspicion that the bombs were distributed after the jail break,” Milla suggested. “It would also explain how Hornblower and his helpers were able to vanish so completely. The convicts were placed throughout the world while the group was still in China, allowing the smaller number to move via plane or portal. Then their instructions were handed to each of them individually when it was time to get into position.”

“It’s also a good sign that Hornblower is playing this close to his chest,” Otto continued. “He kept the detonation method a secret from his co-conspirators, and he had the kits all built before he left jail. There’s nothing inside the envelope that gives any sign it was filled with a powder or a chemical trigger, so it is likely the bombs are triggered by pure hypnotic conditioning. And nothing interesting was transferred into the white envelope after the bomb opened it except the blood. I’ll confirm this with the set from Belluchi, assuming the Osprey team can find them, but right now I’m confident that we’ve gotten all we could out of these things.”

“And your progress on the Neutralizer?” Truman prompted.

Otto shrugged. “Eh.”

“Eh?”

“Eh.”

“Hmm,” Truman said. “Who’s next?”

“My laser gun is in testing!” Oleander announced. “My aerial dry-run in Australia was a HUGE success.”

Agent 33 wrinkled her nose at him. “You aren’t planning to mount a laser on your bird, are you?”

“The bird’s part of the targeting system!” Oleander said. “I’ll be able to triangulate distance for precision firing, and if you let me mount the laser on our communications satellite – ”

“Heavens, no!” Compton squeaked.

Truman sucked his teeth. “The optics would be poor on that, Morry. How about you stick to the Hornblower investigation for now? Ford’s coming back with an important new packet of information via Psychosiesmometer. Why don’t you join Agent Mentallis’s team and help out there?”

Otto dropped the unfinished gadget he was extracting from his pocket. “I hope you’re joking.”

“No. You’ll need assistance.”

“Do you want this project done or not?”

“I resent your implication,” the coach grunted.

“Oleander is a technician. If he’s not a good fit for your seismometer, I’m sure you can put him on something else.” Truman clicked to the next slide on his console. “Next let’s hear from Medical. Zhi… are you okay?”

Dr. Cao was leaning on his station with an ice pack on his face. He moved it to answer. “I’ll live.”

“Anything from Dr. Blackwell?”

“She’s ready for Australia rehab. And she’s pissed you made Helmut director of the psychiatric department.”

“Hey!” Helmut squawked.

“No offense.” Dr. Cao said. “I’m extraneous down there until the Albatross lands, so I’d also like to move to Agent Mentallis’s team for a while.”

“That one I’ll take!” Otto grinned.

“Okay, it’s approved.” Truman sighed. ‘Fine. Helmut, is the Inner Sane-tuary ready for Australia?”

The brain ball rocked backward in a non-committal way. “Eeeehhhh, it’s fine. It’ll be fine. Everything’s fine all the time.”

Truman shook his head. “You haven’t started yet, have you?”

“I’ve had thoughts! I thought about it!”

“Just make sure it’s ready for Hollis’s team. There’s a lot of the Labria group that still needs treatment as well. We can’t let our own people down.” Truman said. “Milla? How’s the construct?”

“I will enter final testing this morning,” Milla reported. “I have a little more optimization to tweak, but once I’m content with the size I’ll begin practicing application. I want it to take as little time as possible to properly set, as a seamless transition from real-world to mental-world is an absolute necessity. My goal is under three minutes.”

“Way under, I hope,” Truman noted.

She moved her hand to the arm of Sasha’s chair. “No second will be wasted.”.

“Of course not, I’m sorry.” Truman said. “I’ll put out a general call for testing volunteers. If anyone here wants to spare her a couple minutes, feel free. Sasha? You go next.”

“Lessons continue today,” he replied. “My instructor and I have found something of an understanding after yesterday’s confrontation. Hopefully progress goes more smoothly from here on.”

“Hopefully,” Truman said. “Thirty-three? Anything from Africa?”

She crossed her arms. “Africa and Asia aren’t talking to us anymore so no, I have nothing to report.”

“Keep an eye on them anyway just in case something happens,” Truman said. “TPT team? Any more revelations from the pages of our favorite magazine?”

Raz and Lili exchanged a glance. Raz had spent the whole evening off-task either in the Questionable area or the Bowling Alley, and Lili was grounded, so there wasn’t much else to say. Raz cleared his throat. “Research is proceeding, Mr. Grand Head.”

“Very good,” Truman replied. “Okay, Compton. the floor is yours.”

“Thank you, Truman.” Compton hit a couple buttons on his console and raised a mirrored version of the interface from his research station. He adjusted his bowler and tie. “For this entire crisis, my team has focused on the New Thinkers. Researching them, locating their various club headquarters, and mapping their behavior. Agent Cruller has been doing the same for the Mentalists. There was also a question about workers within the Psilirium maintenance team. I regret to inform the group that every member of that maintenance team that arrived that day is deceased. All were killed by the Mind Bomb including the driver of their vehicle. My team is clocking the leader of the Belluchi Mentalist group for questioning. I recommend the Osprey team try and apprehend him if possible."

Truman hummed. "Good thinking."

"Which brings me to the most significant item on my agenda," Compton said. "Cassie and I have been working on a theory that we think is supported by the evidence we have found. Allow me to lay it out for you all so you can share your perspective.”

He brought up a rotating globe covered in scattered points of white light. Most were clustered in central Europe and the US, but there were spots scattered throughout Latin and South America, Africa (especially in South Africa,) India, Oceana, and Australia. There were no points in China, but one in Hong Kong and several sprinkled along the Pacific coast further south.

“There are seventy-four active New Thinker clubs that we know about,” Compton said, defining the lights. “Thirty-nine are in the Americas.”

The lights everywhere but the Western Hemisphere blinked off.

“Twenty-one in areas described by Agent Aquato’s observations.”

All but those few went out.

“Of these places, none in South America were located in regions with snowy mountains, which leads us north to the Arctic circle. That’s what solidified my new line of thinking,” Compton gestured to the map. “After the Zurich Incident decapitated the terrorist branch of the club, the North American New Thinkers have shifted perspective. Most chapters have rebranded as Psychic salons, attempting to rehabilitate their image through community outreach, Psychic awareness programs, and open membership.”

“Less Illuminati more Water Buffalo,” Otto surmised.

“Indeed. One in the midwest even sponsors a Thanksgiving Day Parade,” Compton confirmed. “None of these public clubs were acting suspiciously around the time of the Mongolian prison break, although Fangrong and Buxing got them talking, of course. The bomb at the Antarctica prison increased chatter further. Which begs the question, of course… who were the members liberated from the Antarctica prison and how have they affected global New Thinker behavior.”

Compton brought up a panel of six faces. One, a young woman, was labeled Chablis Jeaune – the teleporter. The others were older men and women with French or German-looking names. None were the long-haired Pyrokinetic Raz saw puppeting the Meidum in Fanrong. Another click of Compton’s keyboard and the five older members were displayed again, this time on security cameras in four different locations.

“These were taken before the Argentina attack. It appears these members were returned to their countries of origin right away – only possible with the use of a teleporter. Each of them have since gone off the grid and had no detectable interactions with their former, now-benevolent, club chapters. It is possible they could be pulling strings behind the scenes, but my theory approaches it from a different angle.”

Compton turned the slide to highlight Chablis Jeaune. She was only nineteen years-old with tight wavy hair, a tiny heart-shaped mouth, and a long thin neck. Raz thought she was pretty except for the unpleasant look in her eyes.

“Chablis Jeaune is the only daughter of Swiss New Thinker chapter-head Balser Jeaune, deceased. He was the host of the party we infiltrated in Zurich and the mastermind behind the EMP attack. He was sent to one of our hospital facilities after his EMP generator in the mountains exploded, but was never able to fully recover his mind. In the five years since his daughter was incarcerated, he declined in palliative care and passed away of natural causes.”

“So he didn’t organize this to spring his pride and joy from the hoosgow,” Oleander guessed.

“Nor did her mother, who was incarcerated with her,” Compton confirmed.

“I’m not well versed in this incident report,” Dr. Cao said. “Were the other Antarctica escapees also organizers? How did the attack work?”

“The goal of the plan thwarted in the Zurich Incident was to cripple major governments around the world,” Sasha answered. “Zurich was the location of the New Thinker’s All-Chapter conference where they intended to detonate their embedded EMPs. We now believe the EMP strategy was a replacement for Hornblower’s Mind Bombs after he was arrested in Siberia following a successful test of the technique. Mr. Jeaune was affected when the prototype EMP he’d commissioned detonated unexpectedly amid a structural collapse. Milla and I were lucky to escape with our minds intact, the New Thinkers unfortunately were not.”

Dr. Cao frowned. “How many deaths?”

“Thankfully none at the time,” Milla answered. “Many hospitalizations, however. The Psychonauts worked with the Swiss government to establish a clinic in Zurich, but many victims were relocated to their countries of origin for long-term recovery. Of them, six members were found culpable for the terrorist plan and those were the ones sent to our facility in Antarctica.”

“You can read about it in the comic books,” Agent 33 scoffed. “Why are we wasting our time with stuff we already know? Get on with this crackpot theory.”

“Y-yes, of course,” Compton flustered and lifted a folder from the stack in front of him. “One of the benefits of dealing with the New Thinkers is that it is a hereditary club, meaning we have a pretty good idea of the potential members without any infiltration. None of the highlighted chapters have members that fit the physical description of the Pyrokinetic who astrally-projected into our Chinese crime scene, which is why I propose that perhaps, this person is not a chapter member, but a future chapter member, the same as Chablie Jeaune. A NEW New Thinker, if you will..”

He opened the folder and removed a stack of photocopies. He floated one to Raz, one to Norma, and one to Lizzie. Norma caught her page and wrinkled her nose. “What’s this?”

“That is the reason I invited you here this morning,” Compton said. “You three Junior Agents witnessed the Pyrokinetic’s appearance while we were engaging the Medium. Without conferring with each other, can you identify the figure you saw from this lineup?”

The page held twelve pictures of young men and women. Unlike the mugshots, these subjects were all posed and smiling like school yearbook photos. In the left-hand column was a young man with wavy hair. One look sent Raz right back to the skies above Fanrong when the same furious young man was trying to kick him free of his Lasso. “That’s him!”

Norma and Lizzie had similar reactions.

“The one on the left four rows down,” Norma confirmed. “No doubt of it.”

Lizzie nodded. “Yeah. The douchey-looking one with the smirk.”

“You’re sure that’s the one you saw?” Compton asked Raz.

He nodded. “Definitely.”

“Cassie identified the same young man last night,” Compton distributed the rest of the copies around the table. “The boy in question is Jaoquin F. Leblanc. Twenty-two years old. Grandson of the head of the Montreal chapter of the New Thinkers – one of the reformed schools. The other faces on this page belong to other next-generation prospects with loose association to the actors in the Zurich Incident. Cassie and I had been tracking these twelve New New Thinkers before Europe shut down our surveillance streams. We located all but four in the timestamps following Fanrong. Mr. Leblanc, here, is one of them. Also unaccounted for are New York heiress Brigide Rockford, the nephew of the French chapter leader Auguste Briard, and the son of the Vacouver chapter leader Ivan Stratzinski.”

“Auguste!” Raz cried. “Auguste Briard! When we pulled Lebanc free of the Medium, he spoke to someone on his end he called Auguste! They must be the ones who were helping support his projection!”

“Exactly my theory,” Compton agreed. “It is our belief that these four Psychics plus the young Miss Jaune are the ones sheltering Hornblower. They are all members of reformed chapters, and while Miss Jeaune is the only one directly related to the Zurich Incident, Auguste’s second cousin was incarcerated alongside her, and although he wasn’t present in Zurich, Robert Rockford – Brigide’s grandfather – was one of the more aggressive leaders in the New Thinkers’ Psychic-First agenda and was only unable to attend that fated meeting because of poor health.”

Milla frowned. “But why would these four young people free Hornblower from the Mongolian prison? Surely not to impress their parents.”

“No! To throw it in their faces!” Oleander cried. “These kids obviously don’t care about loss of life, they’re Psychic Supremacists same as their ancestors. They broke Hornblower out to finish what the old guard already started! To put their chapters of the New Thinkers back on the path of Psychic Supremacy!”

“It does sound plausible,” Sasha admitted. “Can we locate these New New Thinkers?”

“Yes, how can we support you?” Milla asked. “Is there an aural reading I can search for?”

“Yes, what do you need to move forward?” Truman asked.

“A dedicated team,” Compton said. “My current staff is already overburdened searching the globe for potential Mind Bombs, and we can’t afford to drop one line of inquiry for another.”

“I’ll join the team,” Agent 33 offered.

Truman glared at her. “Three, no.”

“What? You don’t think I can handle it?” She challenged. “First Italy and now this?”

He frowned. “Three… be reasonable, here.”

“There’s no need to fight, I’ll take any volunteers I can,” Compton said. “Agent 33, if you and your assistant would like to join my team, I’d appreciate it.”

Truman’s brow leveled. “Agent Boole – ”

“Thank you, former Grand Head!” Thirty-three interjeted. She sliced agressive stare at Truman. “We’ll report in right away.”

Truman grit his teeth. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

She seethed and raised her chin. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Okay, that’s two members, and I know where to get the rest,” Truman said. “Otto, I’m taking your assistant.”

Otto’s face lit. “Oleander?”

“Junior Agent Neruman.”

“No!” Otto snapped. “I refuse!”

“Sorry, Otto. I’m transitioning all of the Junior Agents to Compton,” Truman said. “Norma, Lizzie, Raz, that includes you, too.”

“What!?” the sisters cried.

“What?” Raz recoiled.

“But our research assignment!” Lili protested. “Raz and me already have a job!”

“The TPT project is on hold. This is more important,” Truman said. “And you, young lady, are packing your bags. You leave for home tonight”

“Tonight?” Lili cried. “But I don’t have to be at Mom’s until tomorrow!”

“You WILL be there tomorrow because I’m sending you tonight.”

Lili balled her fists. “I’m not going!”

“So you want your mother’s lawyers up here on top of everything else?” Truman said. “I’m sorry, Lili, I know you don’t want to do it, but I’m afraid my hands are tied. Your mother is due her portion of your vacation. You either go home tonight or stay here and give her a reason to file for full custody.”

“But that’s not fair!” Lili whined. “The world’s gonna end!”

“My word is final. You’ve got six hours to wrap up the TPT project and file your report. At twelve PM, Raz is reassigned to Compton and you report to me.”

“UGH!” Lili roared.

Truman clasped his hands behind his back. “That’s everything on my list. Everyone else, back to work. We’ll meet again tomorrow if not before.”

The room filtered out project by project leaving Raz and Lili sink deeper into their shared seat with collective disappointment.

Chapter Text

Raz and Lili returned to the classroom in utter defeat. They’d spent so much time on the TPT research project and found so much semi-relevant stuff, Raz was certain that if they’d been given just a little longer, they’d uncover the smoking gun they needed to find Hornblower and his New Thinker friends. The only issue was that Compton’s leads were more likely to get them there faster. Still, Raz couldn’t escape the feeling that the clues he needed were all around him; to Hornblower, to Pergola’s deception, maybe even to the Maligula Blocker of Truman’s suspicions. If only they had more time to look…

Lili threw the last magazine into the waiting library boxes with an irresponsible amount of force. “This isn’t fair!”

“I know, but we gotta support the team,” Raz said, more to reassure himself than anything else. “We put a lot of work into this, but catching Hornblower is more important. Milla told me in Fanrong that we should go where we’re needed and do the best can with what we have.”

“Easy for you to say! You’re not getting shipped across the country like a piece of luggage.”

He tried to stay positive. “At least you’ll be back in two weeks?”.

“Forget that! I’m not taking a back seat just because Dad told me to. They can’t get rid of me THAT easy!” She grabbed her backpack off the floor. “Write up our report and return these boxes back to the library!”

“What – by myself?” Raz stood. “Where are you going?”

“Work to do! Tell ya later!”

She summoned a levitation ball and wooshed out of the classroom at top speed. Raz sagged back into his beanbag chair, a pity party of one. All at once he had no project, no team, and no girlfriend… and he didn’t even know where to START writing a report. At least he could do the library part. He floated the lid onto the last box and stacked the collection near the door. It was only 10:30am. He didn’t have to report to Compton at noon, but was that long enough to organize everything from Lili’s tally board into an All-Projects-Meeting-quality presentation? Sasha used a slide deck for his Hornblower talk. Compton had all kinds of images in his. Did the Psychonauts have a business office with a computer lab and a printer? He sighed. Maybe Lupe down in the library knew. If he asked nicely, maybe he could get her to send her book-goons upstairs to collect everything so Raz didn’t have to float the whole stack down on the elevator.

He snapped a final photo of the tally board with his Otto-shot, wiped everything clean and traipsed out of the Think Tank in a pout. He hit the button for the elevators and gasped with a sudden spring of hope. When he got off the Hypnository elevator the night before, Milla stopped him to ask if he’d help her with her construct again! She would definitely know how to write a report and he could ask her for advice about the case, or at least feel more useful. Raz diverted his path and beelined for Milla’s meditation room.

The scanner read his head and opened to reveal Agent Vodello seated on the floor cushions in the space before her dias. Coach Oleander was across from her, posed angelically with palms open like a Lowha Lasung monk. Their heads were both crowned in laurels of pink whorls. Spirals floated between them in glimmers of color and bursts of light.

Oleander opened one eye. “Hey there Raz. Won’t be a second.”

“Are you getting the construct put on?” Raz asked. “You can talk while she does it?”

“Oh sure! I’m not doing anything.”

Raz considered grilling him about Australia, or asking him more questions about his lapse into villainy, but Milla opened her eyes before he could speak. “All done!”

Oleander checked his watch. “Four minutes, fourteen seconds.”

“Oh.” Milla’s posture sank. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it, my nut is remarkably tough to crack.” Oleander thunked a knuckle against his pointed helmet. “I’ll go in and check it out.”

“Thank you, Morry. Let me know if you find anything amiss,” Milla said and turned a smile on Raz. “Thank you for coming, darling! Let me finish up with the coach and I’ll be right with you.”

“No problem.”

Oleander’s eyes rolled back with fluttering lids as he projected his mind into his own head. It looked uncomfortable.

Raz cringed. “So Coach has the construct in him right now?”

“He does.”

“Can you maintain more than one application of it at once? Does it take concentration?”

“Not at all! Once the veneer is on, it fastens itself to the person’s psyche, essentially replacing the surface layer of their mindscape. At that point it becomes theirs and I’m no longer involved… unless it needs maintenance, in which case I’ll need to go in and fix it.”

Raz frowned. “So your construct is part of the coach’s mind right now? Can he feel it?”

“Mm, that’s a more complicated question than you think it is, darling, but basically no. A subject can’t feel a constructed element unless it’s interfering with their conscious thought. When applied properly, a person can wear a construct for days or weeks, even years depending on the situation and never know they were there. At the same time, constructs are not meant to be permanent. They’re foreign to the subject’s mind, so a healthy host will break them down naturally as the person’s daily thoughts and experiences reshape their mental landscape back into its natural shape. As Psychonauts, we use constructs for Mental Navigation, but we do our best to remove them from people’s heads after we’re finished. A construct left to rot on its own can cause nightmares, headaches, and in worst cases, delusion. Even in a controlled scenario, applying a construct is imposing one person’s thoughts onto someone else. It blurs the line between ethics and responsibility, and that’s not what the Psychonauts are about.”

Raz thought about the Maligula construct in Loboto’s mind. Its presence was so frightening to the doctor that it changed his conscious behavior. The flea circus Ford pasted in Nona’s mind manipulated her thoughts and memories, yet even with Otto’s Astralathe in play, her mind had overwritten it on its own over time. On the other hand, Sam’s wallpaper construct had only gotten worse the longer Raz was stuck with it. Was that part of the decay? Or was he just going nuts?

“Looks good, Milla,” Oleander said as his awareness returned. “Good job on the smell.”

“That was Razputin’s contribution,” Milla grinned.

Raz puffed up his chest, but Oleander didn’t notice.

“Where’s the seam in the library in case Hornblower expands it?”

“The roof,” Milla answered. “He can extend it upward as much as he needs.”

“If it were me, I’d put it on the back wall instead,” Oleander said. “The oppressively low ceiling is a stand-out element of that stupid monastery. Tall people need not apply.”

She looked conflicted. “I chose the ceiling so that I could keep an eye on the duel… in case we need an intervention.”

“If we need that, it’s too late.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Milla’s face fell. “Thank you, Morry, I’ll consider changing it.”

“Okay then, I’m off!” Oleander announced. “Dr. Cao needs me to try on a bunch of helmets. Waste of my talents.”

“Wait, don’t you want Milla to take it off before you go?” Raz asked. “She said it causes nightmares.”

“Nah, I’ll wear it around a bit. It’ll give me a chance to check it more closely. I predict today is gonna be boring as hell.”

“I welcome all feedback,” Milla said.

The coach marched through the double doors, leaving Raz and Milla alone. She pressed two fingers to her temple and concentrated a moment before addressing Raz again. “Okay, Razputin. Are you ready for a try?”

“I… I dunno.” Raz hugged his arm. “It’s not going to hurt, is it?”

“Of course not! You’ll only feel a tingle. Please, have a seat.”

She ushered him to the cushions. Raz settled cross-legged on the pillows, his stomach full of butterflies. He trusted Milla implicitly, but wasn’t sure how he felt about someone plastering a completely new semi-permanent scene into his head, especially after his experience with Sam. Then again, Oleander’s dreams had glued themselves to his mind in Whispering Rock even before he knew he HAD a mindscape and that turned out pretty okay.

Milla settled onto the pillow across from him. “Make note of the time if you would, please, darling. I’m going to apply the construct as fast as I can, then we can go in together and see how I did. Sound good?”

“Sure, Milla.”

He checked his watch. 10:45. Milla closed her eyes and the whorls spun up around her head. They threaded in and out of her hair like flowers blooming from her mind. Raz looked up to check his own head for a similar effect, but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. A weird prickle was tingling from his neck to his scalp. “Is it working?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Can I talk during it or…”

“I need to concentrate, but you think about whatever you like, I won’t be reading you.”

“Okay.” He stared at his hands. On the Pelican after the Rhombus of Ruin, Sasha applied the office construct to Loboto’s mind in, like, thirty seconds. Of course he was a certified master at it, and the construct he was using was one he’d practiced a million times. Applying this brand new construct to Oleander’s mind had taken Milla four minutes, which didn’t sound like a long time until Raz was sitting still watching the seconds pass on his watch. He imagined Sasha fighting Horatio while the transfer took place, swarms of weapons caging each as more flew back and forth in a sparkling blur. How long had the fight with Pergola taken? Was it four minutes? Raz had a sick feeling Sasha was already in the wall.

The hands on his watch kept spinning, counting off another full minute as his knee bounced against the pillow. The tingle was spreading through his nervous system like his body was going to sleep. He fidgeted, anxious for the application to end, and understanding at last why a duel was going to be necessary. He’d need a pretty big distraction not to notice all the pricks.

The whorls around Milla faded away. “There we go, all done!”

Raz checked his watch again. “Three minutes!”

She sighed. “That’s more like it.”

“I guess it gets faster with practice?”

“Yes. Every mind is different, but the construct stays the same,” Milla said. “That’s why I requested many different volunteers. If I put it on the coach a second time, it would go much faster because I already know what anchor points to use, but each new mind has different anchors, and I have to find those first if the construct is to attach securely.”

“Oh! You mean like with the Mental Lassos!” Raz said. “When I went into Mr. Zheng’s mind in Buxing, the coach told me I had to find something solid to tie his Lasso to before we could rope his mind back in.”

“Precisely.”

“Is that why Sasha’s office construct broke down with Loboto?” Raz asked. “He couldn’t find good anchors? Or was it that the Maligula construct was applied first and was taking all the best anchor spots for itself?”

“It would be more accurate to say they were taking the same anchor spots,” Milla explained. “When the office peeled back it exposed Loboto’s true mind, not the false setting imposed by the previous construct. Sasha’s construct was fresher and more secure than the Maligula one, which Caligosto had been wearing for a while already and wasn’t strong enough to support both itself and the office, especially after the degradation it weathered in the Rhombus. Don’t forget that the doctor was exposed to Psilirium just like we were. Caligosto must have been relieved to have that jumble of foreign thoughts freed from this head.”

“Sasha got rid of them? You mean before Loboto escaped?”

“He broke the blockage, which will allow the rest of the foreign imagery to dissolve naturally over time,” Milla said and sighed. “We fully intended to do a deep cleanse on him in preparation for more extensive mental health treatment, but I’m afraid we were all very distracted at that time and he unfortunately ejected himself from the Brain Tumbler and left before we could do anything more for him. I still have hope he’ll come back some day and ask us for help. At least he hasn’t returned to his life of crime… not yet, anyway.”

Unless he had. Raz swallowed. The Psychonauts had looked for Loboto when he slipped containment, but with the Hornblower thing taking off, all other projects were suspended including the search for the mad dentist. It was hard to believe Loboto could ALSO be involved with the New Thinkers, but he WAS a common character in all the crises that had happened recently. Although, if Loboto was involved with Hornblower in any way, there would probably be more fish around.

“Well now, shall we have a look?” Milla asked.

Raz was shocked back to the present. He had a construct imprinted on his mind as he was sitting there! He’d already forgotten she’d done anything. “Sure, yeah, but… I still don’t know how to go in my own head without a Brain Tumbler.”

“That’s okay, darling, I can bring you in with me.” Milla’s Psi-Portal floated out of her skirt pocket and fastened itself to Raz’s forehead. She cast herself toward him, slipping into his mind like the drift of a cool breeze and wafting his consciousness with it. Raz’s awareness sank away from his eyes and back into his skull, dipping deep and dreamy into his subconscious like falling through a well of dark water.

Chapter Text

The next thing Raz knew, he was standing in the same decaying warehouse he’d visited in Milla’s mind the day before. The air was thick with the smell of damp earth and mildew. Vines draped the walls and exposed roots snaked through open patches in the broken roof. Above, the branches of a crooked tree scattered sunlight into blotches. The cement dueling ring from the earlier construct was set expectantly for two. The space for the audience was missing, replaced by four wooden racks packed with dozens of identical dueling blades. They were eighteen-inches long from the tapered tip to pommeled handle, and sharpened on both sides with barely any hilt. Light flashed on the cutting edges as Raz reached for the nearest blade.

Milla spoke behind him. “Careful. They’re sharp.”

She was dressed in a tight black dress and boots with her hair pulled back in a braid. Raz pressed his lips and nodded to her ensemble. “Is that part of the construct, too?”

“This is what I will be wearing during the operation, so I programmed it into the overlay so I wouldn’t have to think about recreating it when we project in.”

“And… all of these?” Raz gestured to the racks.

Milla’s smile was tight. “Real ones will be supplied on-site. It is the only way we can make sure the construct matches one-to-one.”

His stomach twisted. “Are these standard or…”

“According to the literature, yes.”

“It’s just… couldn’t they duel with those batons from the training room?” Raz asked. “They can be deadly enough, right?”

“Horatio will expect a proper fight. Just like this construct, we have to dress the set perfectly, otherwise this mission will fail before it even gets started.”

“Then we can use Oleander’s laser gun?”

Her smile drew a touch more genuine. “Even Horatio doesn’t deserve to be killed like that.”

“After all that he’s done? After everyone else he’s hurt? You still think that?”

“I have to, sweetie,” she said. “We have all done things in life we regret. Some more severe than others. If we can face those things and grow, we become better and stronger people than we were before. As Psychics, that strength is compounded with power, but so are our weaknesses. Forgiveness is not mine to give, but the Psychonauts do all they can to give people a second chance. Horatio made all the decisions he has made on purpose and he will face the consequences of those decisions, but he did not begin his life intending to kill and destroy. He changed, and he can continue to change. We must at least let him try.”

Raz wasn’t sure he agreed, but disagreeing felt cruel considering the flicker of guilt and regret in her eyes. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, especially not with a bank of weapons meant to be used against her partner lying feet away – each one conjured by her conscious thoughts and as a result of the construct, now constantly on her mind. “When will it switch over to the library?”

“It’ll change automatically in thirty seconds,” Milla said. “I can force it to change earlier if we need to, but I’d like to test the timer. It started the moment I arrived.”

“You can build timers into these, too? What other things can you do?”

“Masters in the art can do almost anything, although it’s always easier to recreate things we already know,” Milla said. “I had photos to guide the accuracy of this place, but the Lowha Lasung monastery I had to imagine from blank canvas and that’s always harder. Same with objects, textures, smells… it is easier to recreate from experience than it is to conjure from whole-cloth. That said, if I had enough time and the proper references I could make the Lowha Lasung monastery as alive and vibrant as it was when he lived there. I could even make a group of semi-sentient monks Horatio could speak to and interact with in the library. Thankfully for this assignment that won’t be necessary.”

“So you can manifest people?” Raz asked. “Like, characters?”

“Oh yes,” Milla said. “Most minds create such figures automatically every day. Using the construct, I can recruit Horatio’s natural manifestations or create my own as needed. I can even prepare vessels for concepts… such as programming a “father” figure and allowing the subject’s mind to fill it with memories of an appropriate person from their own life. When a mind summons these persons naturally we call them Archetypes, like the facets of the self Cassie O’Pia describes in her Mind Swarm book. When we use the veneer to create them, we call them Non-Person Constructs.”

“Like the dancers in your Dance Party,” Raz guessed. “And the not-censors in the minds I entered in Thorny Towers. Some had a subconscious version of the person whose mind I was in, but some of them had like random character people; girl scouts or actors or talking dogs….”

“Those are very common, especially in Non-Psychics, but they are a healthy mental response for any conscious mind! Often the mind uses such persons to sort out feelings and confusions – like we do in our dreams. They can represent aspects of a person’s personality, or traumatic experiences, or sometimes a perceived impediment to a goal. Archetypes supplied by the natural mind can almost feel real, because they are being fed by the fully-formed personality of their creator. It’s harder to build a full person from scratch. I’m sure you noticed my dancers aren’t quite realistic, and the office staff in Template B look a lot like people you’ve met in real life.”

Raz had wondered about that. “Is it fair to steal people’s likenesses for a construct?”

“In the case of the office, they aren’t really stolen. They’re Sasha’s personal experiences given manifest form. The human mind and heart are vastly complicated things, and as fellow human creatures we are hard-wired to sense when the person we are talking to feels ‘off.’ I could conjure a person for you in the blink of an eye, but you’d know they weren’t alive at your first interaction. They wouldn’t FEEL real. On the other hand, I could conjure a version of Sasha into this room with us and fill it with all the memories I have of him. He’s the person I know best in the world, so he’d seem quite lifelike to a stranger. But I don’t have HIM in my head, just my experience of him, and to someone like you who knows the real person well, I suspect you would catch on pretty quickly that he was a forgery. You simply can’t create a real person without a real heart to go with them.”

Raz dropped his gaze. “I guess that means you can’t come up with a fake Sasha to fight this duel for him, then, huh?”

“I’m not the one training in Weaponkinesis. I wouldn’t know where to begin.” The world around her started to smear. “Oh! The changeover.”

As it had on his first visit, the warehouse dissolved away, this time into the library of the Lowha Lasung monastery. Raz goggled at the study table, the shelves of books, the built-ins in the back… it was like he was still in the mountains, stitching monks back together with Sasha and the coach. The sense of claustrophobia was even the same. “It’s perfect!”

She warmed. “Thank you, darling.”

“What did the coach mean when he mentioned you putting a seam in it?”

“Building a construct in my own mind is one thing. I already know where everything is supposed to be, but projecting it on someone else’s mind – your mind in this instance – requires cooperation. This setting is yours now, and you have the ability to change it. You WILL change it, it’s only natural, and if we don’t program spaces where the veneer can expand, the construct will start to fracture. Plasticity is a good thing. It’s the reason why our constructs work for resource gathering at all.” She gestured to the nearest shelf. “Pick up a book here. See what’s inside.”

Raz reached for a blue one with no words on the spine. Unlike last time, when the books were full of nonsense swirls and gibberish, the book he held was packed with fine hand-written script. He scanned the page. “I, Lars Arcana, founder of the Lowha Lasung Monastery, soldier in the British Army under the direction of the crown, hereby pen these pages to chronicle my mastery of Weaponkinesis and my search for the perfect soul-temper – “ He gasped. “It’s the book of Lars Arcana!”

“It is.”

“But this is huge!” He held it out to her. “This is what Horatio stole! This is the reason he bombed the monastery!”

“It is and it is not.” Milla levitated the book from his hand. “The real Lars Arcana would not call his technique Weaponkinesis, that is a modern title. Nor would he mention Lowha Lasung, as the monastery itself was established in his absence. You filled in those details because this book is what you expected to find on these shelves.”

“I did this?” Raz asked. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It happened when your mind took possession of this construct.” Milla chose another book and opened it to reveal the exact same script. “Remember what I told you when we were building this together? Your subconscious filled in what you already thought would be here, but that’s not all it’s done. As we go deeper into this library we will find more offerings from your subconscious. Stories of your past, perhaps. Secrets you don’t want people to know. What do you expect to find in the dark corners of a library covered in cobwebs? In a stack of burnt paper? In the restricted section?”

Her voice was leading. Raz drew his head in like a turtle. “We’re not going to look in there are we?”

“No darling, I wouldn’t do that to you,” Milla said. “But we WILL look when we project this on Horatio. Especially when he is worn out and distracted by his duel. Secrets we hold on to the tightest tend to be the ones that slip free when our grip tires out. I’ve given his secrets plenty of places to hide, but he’ll make more. The seam…”

She waved her hand over her head and the ceiling rose to double, then triple its normal height. The wooden bookshelves around them were unchanged, but the vaults carved into the walls multiplied a hundred times in the transformation. New books appeared in the spaces as if they’d always been there. Raz felt a little tug in the back of his head, like the snag of Sam’s wallpaper. Even though Milla could control the structure, his mind was providing the content. He rubbed the base of his skull. “Horatio will do this automatically?”

She nodded, but her face was drawn. “Horatio’s mind will be unlike any I’ve ever projected onto. He has spent years burning away memories and manifestations as part of his religious training. I’m not sure how many anchors are left in him, or how deep those things beneath his consciousness actually hide. It is possible the wealth of his entire life experience will rush to this place, anxious to finally manifest after years of suppression. Relieved to have a place to go and be found.”

Raz scanned the high shelves around him, wondering what his deepest subconscious had divulged. What could he learn about himself – what would he want to learn? He remembered watching Maligula fall into the depths of his Nona’s mind and shivered. Maybe he was better off not knowing his darkest potential, or manifesting it by unnatural means. He wet his lips. “Milla, can I ask you something… kinda scary?”

“Of course, dear.”

“When Nona – Lucy – became Maligula, it was because Ford and the others made their minds vulnerable before she left for Grulovia. Ford said they explored depths of their minds normal Psychics shouldn’t go to or something like that. Otto’s tech helped, sure, but is that what the monks were doing? Is Hornblower more than a code name? Has he become something else?”

She folded her hands. “I don’t know.”

“And I still don’t trust Pergola. I know you said he wasn’t a New Thinker, but he’s not right in the head and Sasha learning this skill from him….” Raz recalled the sparking energy after the duel, and the haunted look on his mentor’s face in the elevator after the party. “He’s not… burning away parts of himself, right? The parts that we care about?”

Milla drew a sharp breath that made Raz’s heart skip, but re-folded her hands and smiled softly. “Every mission comes with risk. As Psychonauts we expose ourselves to dangers both physical and mental, and that’s why we have a support system to help fortify us and protect us against such things. Sasha and I check on each other all the time. We are only ever a thought away. I can tell you from personal experience that he’s exhausted and disheveled, but I promise you he will be alright.”

“I just…” Raz eyes pricked. He blinked and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “I’m getting kind of scared. And every time I say something about it people just tell me to think positive. But then they don’t investigate anything, either, because they need to get this duel done. Wwhat if it’s like Maligula? What if it’s permanent? We can’t let something like that happen.”

“Darling, I know how you feel.” Milla settled onto her knees and took his hands. “I don’t like seeing my friends upset any more than you do, but please hear what I’m telling you. I know our dear Sasha better than anyone on this earth. I hold him more closely and more highly any soul alive. I do not speak lightly when I ask you to trust us. We are not blind to what is happening, and we are not flippant about any step we have taken along the way. Mental and emotional energy have weight in this quarry. I know you are afraid, it’s normal and healthy to be scared when facing big challenges. Please use that energy toward helping our teammates and not despairing over the unknown.”

“I wasn’t trying to despair.” Raz’s voice cracked a little. He stared at her gloved hands gripping his and willed his nerves to calm down. “I was trying to do what you taught me and make good choices with the information I have.”

The tension in her shoulders eased as she returned an understanding, almost pitying look. “A big part of making those decisions is adapting when new information comes to light.”

“Yeah but…”

“Leave it to us, darling. Please don’t worry.”

Raz didn’t want to stop worrying. He couldn’t just let go of his concerns about Pergola and Hornblower and trust that the grown-ups would handle everything without him. He wanted to save his friends and punish the bad guys who hurt them. Deep down, he still knew something was wrong. The Motherlobe felt off-balance and like Truman, Raz was terrified that the threats they weren’t seeing were the ones that would hurt them the most. He lifted his gaze to meet Milla’s eyes, but noticed a change in the room around her. The tall ceiling was more conical. Thick ropes stretched from the corners down to pins bored into the floor. The spines of the books had shifted color to form vertical blue stripes. The Aquato Family Circus was asserting itself.

Raz reclaimed his hands and pointed. “Milla!?”

“Oh dear.” She slouched, more disappointed than concerned. “I suppose my seams were TOO flexible.”

I’m sorry! I promise I wasn’t trying to break it!”

“I know you weren’t, it’s alright,” she cooed. “You were thinking hard about something that mattered to you, and it drew a lot of strong emotions to the surface layer of your mind. This is good! You exposed a weak spot I can now work to repair. You’ve made the construct stronger through this, isn’t that nice?”

“I guess,” Raz said, but his stomach was in knots. He felt stuffed into a tight space, like wearing a shirt that was too small. “Can you take the construct off now? I think I want my mind back.”

“Of course, sweetie, I’m sorry.” Her eyes pooled. “It’ll just be a moment.”

Milla pressed her fingers to her temple and the construct fizzled away. The walls slanted in. The musky smell lifted. The shelves shallowed with a snap, exploding the books outward into rains of confetti. The big-top shape of the ceiling became actual tenting, just like the real tent in the parking lot of the Questionable Area. Trapezes fell from above as the constructed furniture dissolved into sawdust on the floor until all that remained was the big top, the sun shining through the canvas, and calliope music.

Raz frowned. “This isn’t the caravan.”

“No, this is the first level of your subconscious,” Milla said. “This is where you dream.”

“Why haven't I been here before?”

“You have, darling! This is where you and Morry merged the thoughts of your childhoods, and where you explored in the Brain Tumbler down In Sasha's Whispering Rock laboratory. You just haven’t seen it in its natural state before.”

“My natural state is our circus?” He pouted. “I definitely have to redecorate.”

“Careful, Raz. Your subconscious can teach you a lot about yourself. Forcing your mind to be something it’s not is the first step toward psychosis. Perhaps instead of changing this place to match your will, you should try to accept it as part of yourself.” She tapped his forehead almost playfully. “I know just by the few weeks we’ve been together that you are a boy filled with love and loyalty. This place represents more than your career as a performer. It is family, heritage, and accomplishment. Be proud of that.”

His heart twinged, but he nodded.

Milla broke eye contact and sat straight, her attention drawn outward “It seems we have a guest.”

“What? Where?” Raz turned to check the tent, but he was back in Milla's office, sitting on her pillows.

She levitated off the cushions and floated toward the door. “Hello there, sweetie. Are you looking for your brother?”

Raz twisted met eyes with Frazie gaping in astonishment from the shadow of Milla’s doorway.

Chapter Text

“Did you just fly out of my brother’s face!?” Frazie cried. She stood at the entrance to Milla’s Meditation Room still dressed in her tattered skirt and Raz's hand-me-hand-me-down Psychonauts sweater, although her hair was damp as if she’d showered. She pointed an accusing finger past Milla at her brother. “What were you doing to him? He’s crying!”

Raz blinked and noticed the wetness on his cheeks for the first time. He’d restrained himself while he and Milla were in his mind, but apparently he'd been weeping on the outside. He wiped his face on his glove and tried to train his expression back to neutral.

“Don’t be alarmed, sweetie. Razputin was helping me with something very important and it stirred up some big feelings.” Milla landed beside Frazie as softly as a cloud. “I’m glad to see you in the Motherlobe. Your brother has told us so much about you.”

“He has?” Frazie hugged her arm and plied Raz with her eyes. “You weren’t talking about last night, were you?”

“No! I wouldn’t do that!”

Milla glanced between them. “Did something happen last night?”

“No, I mean…” Raz appealed to Frazie.

His sister groaned and bounced her toe off the floor. “I told Raz I was Psychic.”

“Oh? How lovely,” Milla said with a calm smile. “I’m pleased you were able to confide in your brother about such a personal topic. How do you feel now that you've shared this part of yourself?”

“I dunno, weird, I guess?” She shrugged. “Like, obviously I already knew but saying it made it real suddenly.”

“That’s a very normal reaction,” Milla assured. “And just so you know, the Psychonauts are more than an international peacekeeping agency. We are here to support all Psychics no matter who they are or where they come from. If you need a safe place to go, the Motherlobe is here, and if you ever need a grown up to talk to, my door is always open.”

Frazie uncoiled herself from the ball she’d retreated into. Raz’s heart swelled, not in response to any emotional tampering from Milla's empathic powers, but from simply being caught in the glow of her gentle demeanor and motherly tone.

Frazie’s cheeks went red. “Thanks Work M– I mean, Agent Vodello.”

“Please call me Milla. It’s what I prefer." She said. "Perhaps, now that you are known to be Psychic, Razputin would like to give you a tour of our building. He can show you all the fun activities and resources our facility here has to offer, and if you feel like you would enjoy spending more time with us, I can put your name on the visitor list so you can come and go as you like…although considering you’re here now, I’ll guess you already can.”

Raz bit his lip. “She stayed in my room last night so…”

“You’re not in trouble, darling. The emotional and mental health of our visitors is our number-one priority,” Milla assured. Raz was grateful, although he couldn’t help thinking that the open-door policy was part of why the Motherlobe had security issues. Milla folded her hands over her heart. “I will still go through the official channels for you, Miss Aquato. Approved visitors can use our Health and Wellness resources, our library, and anything here on the Atrium floor. If you need anything else, we’re always ready to assist you. I hope you can consider the Motherlobe a second home.”

“Thanks… uh… Milla,” she replied. “And I prefer Frazie, by the way.”

“Frazie, then,” Milla said, warmly. “You children run along. I won't need any more help for now.”

Raz's brow knit. “Okay, if you're sure.”

"Quite sure, sweetie. Youve been a marvelous help."

Milla nodded farewell and Raz led his sister back through the sliding doors.

Frazie rocked on her heels. “She really is Work Mom isn’t she?”

He grinned. “Yeah, she is.”

“Is she as super-powerful as she is in the comics?”

“Even more if you can believe it,” Raz said. “In Fanrong she threw a dance party for three-thousand people in her head.”

‘“Wow. Kinda wish I’d seen that.” Frazie sucked her lip. “Are you sure you're okay? You looked really upset."

"I'm fine." His stomach knotted. "We were talking about Sasha. I'm really worried about him."

"You mean Work Dad."

"For the hundredth time, yes."

"Can I meet him, next?”

Raz grimaced and gave the doors beside them a skeptical look. “I mean we can try.”

The laboratory was empty just as Raz guessed it would be. It poked the emotional sore spot still bare after his conversation in the construct. Milla wanted him to let her handle the situation, but she also admitted that something was going on inside Sasha's head with no intention of stopping it. Sure, the world was in danger but their people were, too. Raz tried to focus on positive thoughts.

"Whoa." Frazie marveled at the flashing lights and strange equipment. “Fancy!”

"He has an aesthetic," Raz said. He climbed onto the raised platform at the center to peek at the cork boards still assembled around the exam table. In spite of being told multiple times to focus on his training, Agent Sasha Nein had extensively updated his evidence web with photos, clippings, and coordinates. All the notes and labels were in English, which told Raz that this spread was meant for public reference. He even recognized other agents’ handwriting on some of Sasha’s pinned posts. It was like a permanent unending All-Projects meeting, and was already up-to-date from the conversation that morning. The five New New Thinkers Compton identified were arranged in a line on the leftmost board with last known locations and dossiers pinned beside them. Raz pulled out his borrowed Otto-Shot camera and snapped some photos for later. Lili would want to see it, too.

The board beside the New New Thinkers had the bomb locations pinned on a global map with yarn lines branching off into statistics for population, affected individuals, recoveries, and deaths. Belluchi was on the board with zeroes in all but population, and the cities from the TPT blackboard discovery were ready and waiting in the corner. Farthest right was a section devoted to photocopies of Raz’s duelist drawings. In addition to Hornblower, the research team had discovered names and rap sheets for five of the dozen sketches: Snake Putonne – Psi-Blast, Incarcerated. Bones Hurley - Telekinesis, Incarcerated. The White Flame – Pyro, Deceased. Artless Smithee - Hypnosis, Institutionalized. Rosetta Stone – Geokinesis, Missing.

A typed memo from Hollis was pinned just beneath. Raz recognized the printer paper from his endless bank statement assignment. She must have sent it to Sasha’s fax machine. “Rosetta Stone - Missing Presumed Dead. Past connection to Hornblower. Scapegoat??? Update later.”

A thrill shot through him – Team B had a cover story! And it came from HIS research. That put Team B ahead in the Project Race. If Otto finished his neutralizer, Team A could cancel the duel. A sticky note with Truman’s barely legible handwriting was attached to the bottom. Raz squinted and tilted his head to make out the words: “Talk to me later.”

“What's this big barrel thing do?” Frazie asked from the corner.

Raz turned to see her staring directly into the active end of the massive Introspection machine. “That’s the Brain Tumbler. It sends your mind straight to the Collective Unconscious.”

“The what?”

“The place where all human minds are connected.”

“All Psychic minds?”

“No, all minds,” Raz said. “Although you can only get to the ones you personally know without help. It’s actually pretty neat. I’ve visited a lot of minds through the Brain Tumbler. They’re like their own little worlds.”

“Sounds creepy,” Frazie said. “I’d hate to see what my mind looked like.”

“Hang out here long enough and you’ll probably find out.” Raz snorted. “Come on, if Sasha’s not here I’ve got a good idea where to find him. We can tour on the way.”

Raz walked Frazie to the elevators, introducing her to loitering staff members and highlighting points of interest on their way. An elevator car was waiting. The two climbed aboard abd Raz punched the buttons for every floor between them and B5.

Raz gestured like a bellhop when the doors opened again. “This is Basement 1. The office floor. It’s where most of the agents have their desks and stuff. The Psychonauts have hundreds of employees on staff, but only some of them are actually Psychonaut Agents, and even fewer are field agents running missions and stuff. Lili’s uncle has a greenhouse down here with windows in the ceiling.”

“Cool.”

The doors closed and opened again.

“This is Basement 2 – “ Raz stopped short. He locked eyes with Lili who was waiting for a ride.

She went bright pink and glanced between the siblings. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m giving Frazie a tour,” Raz said. “She’s Psychic.”

“Didn’t we already know that?”

‘Well, now we know it for sure,” he said. “What are YOU doing here?”

“Going up!” Lili hit the wall button until the doors slid closed. “Bye.”

“Bye.” He said. The car moved down another floor.

Frazie crossed her arms. “Your girlfriend, huh?”

“She’s busy.”

“What was on Basement 2?”

“Specialist departments. HR. Legal. Coach Oleander’s workshop. The hangar bay…” Raz puzzled a moment. Which of those places had Lili gone for her ‘Stay at the Motherlobe Longer’ mission? The doors opened on Basement 3 before he could decide. “This floor has laboratories and storage. There’s an elevator in the hangar that brings food and supplies and stuff down here and I'm pretty sure there's a like a dumb-waiter service that sends loads of stuff to the other floors. There’s something similar that goes to the medical department - that's the next floor down. There's lift that goes from Medical to the labs for testing samples and there's a bigger lift that goes up to the hangar for people who come in by ambulance.”

“This place is like an anthill.”

“You should have seen this monastery I just visited.”

The elevator closed and opened again on Basement 4 – Health and Wellness.

“This is the place Milla said you could use as a visitor.” Raz ushered Frazie off the car and into the Olympian lobby. “Sasha’s probably training in the gym. He’s learning this super exclusive fighting style for the mission we’re on, but he said yesterday I could watch so it’s probably okay if we peek in through the window while he's working. He might be too busy to talk, though.”

“That’s okay, I still wanna see.”

The two passed beneath the gladiator statues and into the training gym where a collection of fitness buffs were doing their reps dressed in the standard Psychonauts-branded sweatpants and tees. One man at the back stood out from the rest. He was dressed in a blue tracksuit with the American flag on the arm like a human mailbox. Raz pressed his lips. “Webb.”

“Who?” Frazie asked.

Inspiration struck. Raz beckoned her after him. “Stick close and let me do the talking.”

The two wove through the excercisers to the back of the room where barbells and hand weights were stored on slanted shelves like the dueling knives in Milla’s construct. A wall of mirrors faced the workout benches, so bodybuilders could check their form and appreciate their progress. Webb hefted a pair of sixty-pound dumbbells. He spotted them coming long before they arrived.

“Imaginary Friend,” he said, stowing his weights. “Here for self-improvement?”

“Are you?” Raz asked.

“I always make time for physical exertion when I can. Wakes up the brain cells!” Webb stretched his shoulders. “Who’s this young lady?”

“My sister, Frazie,” Raz said. “She’s new.”

“Ah, a fellow greenhorn.” He extended a hand which she shook. “These brainiacs talk a big game, but I’m learning pretty quick that they’re just like anyone else.”

“Good to know,” Frazie said.

“Hey, I had a question,” Raz said. “You’ve got like, special CIA intel available, right?”

Webb made a show of tugging his collar. “I mean, we aren’t here to brag.”

“I just wanted to drop a tip about a guy we picked up,” Raz said. “He’s not part of the agency. He was brought in as a consultant. I get a bad vibe off him. I think he’s hiding something.”

Webb pouted. “But you’re Psychic, can’t you folks like… read each other’s minds?”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t keep secrets.”

“THAT’S good to know.” He pulled his battered notebook out of his back pocket. “What’s this guy’s name?”

“Pergola.” Acid splashed up Raz's throat, dissolving the certainty he’d used to hatch this plan at the gymnasium door. “Agrippa Pergola.”

“Agrippa Pergola.” Webb finished the name with an underline. “I’ll look into it. Thanks.”

“Sure.” Raz said with some difficulty. “Have fun with your weights.”

The siblings left the main workout room and entered the labyrinthine hallways. Frazie whispered when they were out of earshot. “What was that about?”

“I’m getting some outside help.”

“Your face turned green.”

His heartburn flared again. “...I know what I’m doing.”

Chapter Text

A crowd was gathered in the observation room above the practice pitch. News had apparently spread about the Weaponkinesis battles and employees in every uniform were packed shoulder to shoulder to spectate. Someone had even set up a popcorn stand near the doorway. Raz wrinkled his nose at it and tried to pave a path for he and Frazie to see through the window, but all of the seats were filled and the aisle was packed tight. Raz craned his neck to see someone he recognized and spotted none other than Ford Cruller standing at the front.

Raz projected to him. “Ford!”

The old man spun in place like he’d been tapped on the shoulder. ”Eh?”

Raz bounced and waved. “Behind you!”

Ford spotted him between two bumping heads and returned a tiny salute. In less than a heartbeat Raz and Frazie were standing beside him in the judge’s box right next to the window.

“WHOA!” Frazie cried.

Raz ignored her. “I’m surprised you’re back at the Motherlobe, Ford! I thought you were asleep on the ground somewhere in Itally.”

“I was for a bit,” He said. “I popped in about fifteen minutes ago. Plane travel is boring when you can travel by thought. You here for me or for the sport?”

“I told Frazie we could see Sasha training,” Raz said. “How is it going?”

Ford snorted. “See for yourself.”

Raz pressed his face to the glass. A full-on Weaponkinesis battle was already underway. Sasha and Pergola were defending their respective sides. Pergola stood motionless, his back bent and his muscles bulging out of his spindly frame. Sasha was in a low stance with his feet wide and hand at his temple. It looked like a page out of True Psychic Tales Magazine when Combat Specialist Nein was going at it with a supervillain. Batons whirled around and between the two combatants at blinding fast speeds. Their arsenals were roughly even. Every silvery projectile lobbed toward Sasha was pounded into the ceiling, wall, or floor by a matching blue satellite, and every missile the Psychonaut shot at the monk was scissored down by a line of silver batons like a guillotine. The rebounding projectiles were snatched up in a flurry of blue and silver flashes to keep the onslaught going. Sasha bounced on his heels. The old man was twitching.

Raz’s heart raced, scared but excited. No wonder the scene drew a crowd. “How long have they been at it?”

“A full minute this time. They did a shorter one earlier.”

“Did Sasha find the right piece of music to solve his prime number problem?

Ford shrugged. “He hasn’t had a meltdown.”

“That’s good at least.” Raz tried to count the moving pieces, but they were going too fast. His gut told him there were more than thirteen, though. “Has he won yet?”

“Hah, has he won yet. If he’d won they wouldn’t still be at it.”

“Defend!” Pergola shouted and pushed forward one step. His cloud of batons broke into battalions that crashed down in waves.

Sasha pulled the bulk of his arsenal to the front, assembling them into a propeller that rotated at his wrist like a shield. The rest of his batons swarmed in close, protecting his core in a pulsing orb of moving parts. The fall of each silver crest caused a splash of debris. Sasha’s shield shrank with each hit. He scrambled to rebuild it as a sneaky flight of silver batons flew wide to assault his back. Sasha’s swarm diverted most of them, but a couple slipped through – one narrowly missing his shoulder and the other broadsiding him in the back. Sasha stumbled forward, but recovered and pulled his blue-laced defenders in tight to cover the weakness. They trapped the intruding batons within their scramble and consumed them into Sasha’s numbers.

The Psychonaut moved the locus of the propeller-shield from his right wrist to his left, freeing his dominant hand. He reached back and clenched a fist, the physical movement cueing a Telekinetic shift that burst his swarm apart like a firework. Sasha twisted to hold the shield behind him as his full complement of defensive batons spiraled in irregular paths through the pitch and past Pergola’s firing line. The monk halted his offense and retreated a step, picking off the attackers as fast as he could lock onto them. A blue baton made him duck before turning silver. A second whizzed under his arm, sending Pergola a step left and into the path of a third baton which twisted to strike him lengthwise.

Pergola bent forward, clutching his gut, the wind knocked out of him for a beat before raising his silver-laced eyes and responding in rage. The silver sheen around him boiled bright as the weapons shifted paths, forming lines and blades that sliced toward Sasha in whips. The Psychonaut broke stance and went mobile, dashing left and right to evade direct strikes and moving his defensive cage with him. A spattering of Pergola’s batons squeezed through the line, one close enough to flutter Sasha’s suit jacket as he knocked it away with his spinning wrist shield. Pergola advanced a shuffling step, but kept bent and seething. His body heaved like a bellows as loose weapons drove in to tighten the assault. Sasha kept them at a distance with a kamikaze defense, sacrificing individual missiles to keep his core numbers safe. He pulled his arms in tight and bobbed like a boxer in a yard fight, pantomiming the movements of his batons with matching jabs of his elbows and shoulders..

A ricochet cut into Pergola’s inner circle. He heaved a gutteral noise like a wildcat and launched a lateral assault. The blow sliced into Sasha’s defense through a gap. The blue batons recalculated patterns, but they were a millisecond too slow. Sasha conjured a Telekinetic hand to move himself out of the way. A silver fist manifested and punched him into the floor.

The crowd in the observation room groaned. Raz’s heart sank. Below, Sasha’s cloud of projectiles scattered like bowling pins. Sasha pounded his fist on the floor and shoved himself up. “What did I do wrong that time?”

“You pulled yourself back.”

“That was Telekinesis!”

“No,” Pergola said. “That was Psionic Locomotion.”

“Psionic – ” Sasha stopped himself with a slow breath and regained his cool. “No one has called it that for over fifty years.”

“It’s a very old discipline.”

Sasha dropped his face into his hands. “Fine. Let’s go again.”

“Just a moment.” Ford interrupted.

He, Raz, and Frazie were in the arena. Frazie recoiled, disoriented. Raz gestured to reassure her as Pergola’s sour demeanor flashed back into rage. “You!”

“Haven’t purged me from your head yet, Auggie?” Ford asked him. “Keep working on that soul-temper.”

“You cad!” Pergola spat. “I’m not speaking to you.”

“Good, I didn’t want you to.” Ford said and addressed Sasha. “You need a break.”

“I don’t have time for a break.”

“Your nose is bleeding.”

It wasn’t bleeding much, but it was. Sasha wiped it on the back of his glove. “That doesn’t change anything.”

“You’ve been at this for hours. Your brain’s gonna burn out,” Ford said. “Let's get lunch. I’ll make you pancakes. Just give it thirty minutes then you can come back again later and give this old geezer the beating he deserves.”

“No!” Pergola snapped. He breathed deeply and folded his hands behind his back. “We will not come back.”

A flicker of hope lit Raz’s chest. “You won’t?”

“Not for today.” Pergola fixed Sasha with a stare that saturated the air with silver glimmer. “You landed a blow.”

“Was I not supposed to do that, either?” Sasha asked.

“No you weren’t. Not this early in your training, at least.” Pergola raised his chin. “We will fight again, but only once more. As proof of mastery. I’ll give no instruction, no coaching. This will be a real fight with traditional rules. A final exam.”

The dying hope entombed itself in Raz’s throat. “Final like… graduation?”

“Final like ultimate,” Pergola said. “Final as in the last. Twenty-four hours from now at the toll of midday, we will fight as two duelists on equal ground. The battle begins at mutual consent and ends when one combatant is incapacitated, just like dueling rules. If you can defeat me, you will be ready to fight Horatio. If you taint it this time, I will not hold back.”

“Hey, hold on!” Ford interjected. “This isn’t your monastery! You can’t make threats!”

Pergola slitted his eyes. “I told you to stay out of it.”

“Why you – ”

Pergola flicked a finger at Ford and the old man vanished. He returned his full attention to Sasha. “This is YOUR challenge to take or dismiss. Horatio’s not going to play with you, and I would rather break every bone in your body then send someone ill-equipped into hell to face the devil. Do you agree?”

Sasha’s brow leveled. “I agree.”

“Then prepare yourself however you need to,” Pergola said. “I will be meditating until the appointed hour and will not be disturbed. I also demand a judge preside. I want this done properly, in a way befitting my order, that honors our founder and the brothers who have fallen in this manner before us.”

Sasha nodded. “I’ll arrange it.”

“Good.” Pergola gave him a final head-to-toe evaluation and vanished in a shimmer of silver.

Ford reappeared a moment later. “Yeesh! Damn! What did I miss?”

“Where did he send you?” Raz asked.

“Straight up about eighty feet. He’s got one trick but he does it well.” Ford noted Pergola’s absence and frowned at the duelist. “Did you tell him to get lost?”

Sasha lit a cigarette. “No.”

“He’s going to have a final exam,” Raz said. “Dueling rules.”

Ford goggled at him. “You agreed to this?”

Sasha was looking more weary by the second. “It appears I don’t have much choice.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Ford demanded. “I’m gone for two seconds and you lose all sense in your head? He’s gonna kill you, you know. He’s gonna look for an excuse to do it.”

“Pergola won’t, but Horatio will,” Sasha replied. “We can’t forget who all this is preparing me to face.”

“Yeah, but if he takes you out here first – ”

“If he takes me out here, I wouldn’t survive Hornblower either way,” Sasha said. “At least here we have a controlled environment, a building full of Psychics, and the nation’s best psionic medical facility right next door. If I’m within an inch of my life I’d rather be so in this room than half a world away.” He paused to breathe, chest shuddering just a little on the exhale. “Besides, I do not intend to taint this duel. Pergola’s not a sadist, he’s a seeker, and he wants a proper duel as much as Horatio does. If he’s challenged me now, it is because he expects me to give him what he bargained for by coming here. A real duel with a Hornblower-level combatant. All I have to do is be prepared.”

Raz frowned. “Is twenty-four hours enough time?”

“If I start right away.”

“After a snack,” Ford insisted. “And a sit-down.”

Sasha brushed an errant hair out of his face like a surly teen. “Fine.”

“Hi, uh…” Frazie materialized out of thin air. She waved feebly. “I’m Raz’s sister. I don’t think we’ve met.”

Sasha switched from duelist to counselor in a heartbeat. “Hello there. It’s Frazie, correct?”

She grinned. “Yeah. Frazie.”

“I read about your contributions in Mr. Gette’s report from Fanrong. Promising work.”

“Aw, thanks. It was just circus stuff.”

“Circus stuff is a valuable skill if the situation requires it,” Sasha said. “The breadth of application when the human mind is involved is awe-inspiring. We never know what our potential can be until we challenge ourselves. I see you are already skilled in Invisibility, I’m interested to find out what other techniques you are drawn to. Visible or not, I hope to see more of you in the future.”

“I think you will, actually,” she said. “If that’s okay with the big boss, that is.”

“With Razputin as a recommendation, I’m sure you’ll have no concern." Sasha said. "Forgive me for cutting short our introductions, but I have a long day of practice ahead of me. I am sure we will have plenty of time for pancakes after all this is over."

"There better be, I ain't runnin' a breakfast joint for nothin' you know," Ford said. "Come 'ere, kids. I'll get us back to the lobby."

"Before you go..." Sasha bade. “If it’s not too much to ask I’d appreciate it if you gentlemen could be here to support me tomorrow. I’ll ask Truman to judge, of course, but having the rest of the team with him in the observation box would make this a bit easier.”

Raz’s heart stirred. “It would?”

“We take strength and energy from those around us,” Sasha said. “This mission has been a challenge, but tomorrow’s battle will be the most significant one yet. It could determine whether Milla and I move forward with Truman’s plan or abort and bow out. A lot is riding on me – potentially the world, if we’re being dramatic - and I’m not ashamed to admit that I am a bit nervous.”

Ford softened. “Don’t you worry, son. You’ll see me there and I won't be alone. I’ll round up the whole project! Your team's got your back.”

“Thank you.” He relaxed and cut Raz a meager smile. “Just promise to close your eyes if I get folded in thirds, hm?”

“Right...” Raz said, but had no heart for jokes. Frazie gave him a tight-lipped grimace, obviously in over her head. Raz swallowed his nerves. He didn’t want Sasha to fight Hornblower, but he still wanted him to succeed against Pergola. More than that, Raz wanted a future where he and all his friends could be safe and secure. One where he and Frazie and Sasha could drop everything and go get pancakes with Ford. That was a future he’d be willing to break all his own bones for… and a positive thought it didn’t take much to send into the world.

Chapter Text

Chapter 59

Raz and Frazie had one more level to visit before the Motherlobe tour was over. Basement 5. The Forest of Knowledge. Frazie stepped off the elevator with stars in her eyes. “You have trees in your cellar? Geez. This place is way bigger than I thought it was.”

“Yeah, I think they keep adding stuff.”

“How deep does it go?”

“This is it as far as I know, but it’s probably deeper.” Raz shrugged. “Some of our agents are Geokinetics – that means they move rocks. They can burrow out new basements just by thinking about it, assuming there’s somewhere for all the rock they’re moving to go.”

“And the building doesn’t collapse on top of them.”

“Yeah, that too.”

“Can you Geokin-essa-whatsit?” Frazie asked.

“I can Telekin-essa-whatsit,” Raz answered. “I can pick up rocks and stuff with my mind, but I don’t actually control the rocks.”

“I don’t see the difference.”

“It’s behind the scenes stuff. It’s not important.”

“Will I, um…” Frazie hugged herself again. “Do I have to learn to do the whatsits? Beaming into people’s minds like Milla, or throwing stuff around like Agent Nein, or lighting fires like Dad and his dumb pinecones?”

Raz studied her. “You don’t HAVE to do anything. You can learn if you want to, but no one’s going to MAKE you learn something.”

“So, I don’t have to join your intern program and go off on missions?”

“No.” He tried to hide his disappointment. He thought after volunteering in Fanrong and spending a day neck deep in True Psychic Tales that Frazie was actually coming to like the Psychonauts. “But you never know what you can do until you try. You obviously have an affinity for Invisibility, but that’s just the beginning.”

“Is an affinity just a power?”

“A Psychic Affinity is something you’re born with,” Raz said. “Or at least something your brain can do easily.”

“Oh, you mean like your thing with water.”

Raz stopped and faced her. “What?”

“The water hands,” Frazie said. “In the lake. You’ve got a water affinity.”

Raz was rung like a gong. The Curse of Gallochio that had followed his family wasn’t real, he realized that after the Maligula Incident, and he knew the hands that reached for him were his own Psychic powers working against him. Milla identified it correctly early on as a phobia, but after he’d faced the fear, his water hands persisted. Friendlier now, but still there as an automatic response. Wasn’t that the literal definition of an affinity?

Frazie snapped her fingers near his ear. “Earth to Raz. Hello?”

“Uh, sorry,” Raz blinked back to reality. “Yeah, I’m a Hydrokinetic – ” The word felt weird in his mouth. “That’s something I am. I am definitely that.”

“How many affinities can someone have?” Frazie asked.

“At least two apparently.”

They pushed through the library doors and approached the reception desk. Lupe was stamping her way through a huge pile of books. A tower of familiar boxes were stacked at her station. Raz pointed. “Are those – “

“Your loans, yes,” Lupe said.

“But I haven’t asked you to come get them yet.”

“Your little partner in crime ran in and asked me an hour ago. She’s a busy little bee today,” Lupe said with another clunk of her stamp. “She also asked me for a book on aeronautics.”

“Aeronautics?” Raz asked. “You mean planes?”

“Yeah, you chasin’ a lead?’

“Yeah… sure…” Raz gestured to Frazie. “This is my sister.”

“Hello,” Frazie said.

Lupe nodded to her. “Hello, sis. Like your tights.”

“Thanks,” Frazie blushed. “Those are the magazines we were going through upstairs, right?”

“Yeah, Truman’s closing our project down,” Raz said, sulking. “Another lead came up before us, so he doesn’t need our help anymore.”

“That’s not really fair. We’d only gotten through half of them when I left,” Frazie said. “How can he know you’re irrelevant if he won’t let you finish?”

“It’s a time thing,” Raz said. “He’s reassigned me to a new crew. Actually, I’m going to have to report to him in about a half an hour so we should wrap up so I can get you back home.”

Frazie hugged her arm again. “Um…”

“Or I could take you back to my room?” Raz offered. “I didn’t give you door access, so it won’t open without scanning my head.”

“That’s okay… maybe I’ll just stay down here,” Frazie said. “There’s lots for me to look at and I could keep reading your comics. I’ll even take tallies just like upstairs. Did you guys write the tics down?”

“Yeah, I took a picture.” He pulled the Otto-shot out of his bag and removed the most recent photo from the tray on the bottom. “Truman told me to write a report, but I don’t have time to do that right now. You can keep the picture long enough to copy the tallies if you’re sure that’s how you want to spend the afternoon.”

“Sure, I’m sure,” Frazie said. “I was looking forward to reading more. The stories are really cool and it’s fun that I actually met two of the stars today.”

“Are you in any issues, Lupe?” Raz asked.

The librarian giggled high in her nose. “Me? Noooooo. No, I don’t do that. Not selling my likeness rights, no matter how good the royalties are.”

“I’d do it,” Frazie laughed. “It’s like being paid to show off.”

“More like being owed damages. Did you SEE what they did to Agent Mentallis in Issue 2? Tragic.” The librarian floated the stamped magazines into another box. “These are back in my system, so you can take ‘em off my hands. Can I get you started at a study table?”

Frazie brightened. “Okay, sure!”

Lupe led the two of them to the corner where a circular table made from a massive cross-section of tree stood sheltered by shelves of travel books and tourist periodicals.

“Here you go, sis!” Lupe said. “A nice quiet corner just for you. Let me know if you need anything. The agency has a huge office supplies budget – some kinda grant, I think. I’ve got permanent markers and yellow notepads coming out my ears. I’ll hook you up.”

“Sure, Lupe, thanks,” Frazie said.

The librarian saluted and left them to their work. Raz dug in his bag and put Lili’s notes and research papers on the table. “You’re positive you want to spend time on this? It’s going to be a lot of work.”

“No it’s not, it’s only going to be as much work as I put into it,” Frazie said. “I’m not on the clock, remember? If I get bored, I’ll just stop and do something else. I’m sure they’ve got romance novels in here somewhere.”

“You read romance novels?”

“It’s none of your business what I read.” She grinned at him. “Go do your spy stuff. I’ll hang out down here. Swing by when you’re on break.”

“I’ll come get you for dinner!” Raz said. “I can show you the soft serve machine.”

“Ice cream for dinner. You really are all grown up.”

Raz left her to her studies and jogged back to the hall. He wanted to find Lili and ask about the plane thing. Was she plotting a hijacking? Hopefully not… although running into her on the hanger floor certainly looked more suspicious in this new aeronautical light. He pressed two fingers to his temple. ”Potato Masher? Are you there?”

Her mind answered with a bit of an echo, as if she were shouting down a tunnel. ”Don’t bother me, Raz!”

“Just letting you know Frazie’s in the library continuing our investigation. She’s going to keep making tallies – “

“Who cares!”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m in Otto’s Workshop nicking stuff for my plan. So stop distracting me.”

“Oh. Okay. Right.” Raz cut communication. Otto’s workshop, huh? He checked his watch – twenty minutes to spare. Perhaps a visit to Otto-matic Central wouldn’t be so out of place. Lili wouldn’t be happy, but he had to figure out what she was planning. Plus he could check on the neutralizer project and see how close Team B was to winning the race.

Raz jogged past the elevator and popped open the OttoB.O.N hatch with his mind. Tucking his knees to his chest, he cannon-balled into the system where he was routed into the stone wall and through the network. He used TK and wall-mounted maps to navigate the branching paths, shooting upward and swinging left into a long, arching tube that swept him around the quarry through the canyon wall. Otto definitely had to use Geokinetics to lay in the OttoB.O.N. system. There were no seams or hatches, just smooth stone walls lit by rings of phosphorescent light installed by bodiless Telekinetics in tanks of nutrient fluid. Raz reached the exit for Otto’s lab and burst out of the hatch into the cavern just behind the inventor’s cluttered desk.

Otto was not at his normal workspace, nor was Gisu who was probably already reporting to Compton. Blueprints and papers were pinned onto the shelves with various paperweights and a patchwork wallpaper of sticky notes was affixed to the cavern wall. In the back, the Brainframe flashed and rotated in deep thought. Perhaps the collection of donated brains was also pondering the Hornblower situation. Raz had never really asked what the braided system of preserved gray matter was typically used for, he figured he’d find out one day when he died on the job.

A chunk of the wall was open, revealing a previously concealed cavern full of storage boxes and spare parts. Raz ventured toward it, but stopped when he heard Sasha’s voice echoing in the small space.

“I’m really growing to hate this discipline.”

Raz ducked low and rolled into cover behind a stack of wooden crates. Through the gaps, he could see into the storage area where Sasha was leaning on a worktable smoking a cigarette.

Otto’s flag of gray hair bobbed above a dense pile of machine parts and cardboard deeper inside. “You can stop at any time, you know. No one’s forcing you to do this.”

Sasha dragged the end of the cigarette and blew a long cloud of smoke. “Is your neutralizer working yet?”

“No. But soon!”

“Let me know when.”

Otto’s salmon-orange Telekinetic hand nudged an ashtray across the table to his guest. Sasha took the hint and ground the smoking butt into it.

“Hollis’s race is just motivational, you know!” Otto shouted above the mess. “You’re in charge of your own life. If you hate juggling so much, just call the plan quits. No one would blame you for it.”

Sasha’s tone shifted. “So you doubt me, too?”

“Oooh, someone’s projecting.” Otto reappeared with a huge wooden crate marked ‘Etc’ and clunked it on the table between them. “Do YOU think you can do it?”

Sasha lit another cigarette in lieu of reply.

“Oh for God's sake, Sasha, you've only been at it thirty-six hours. Be realistic.”

“It is not that I don’t think it’s possible,” he sighed. “I only wish we had more time. Hornblower has hit five of the seven continents. Belluchi would have been the sixth if we hadn’t intervened.”

"You think Oleander was right? Someone told the bomb we were coming?”

“If they did, it had to be someone on second shift in the Nerve Center,” Sasha said. “Did you read Truman’s memo about the debriefing?”

“I’ve been busy.”

“The large envelope recovered by the Osprey team placed the bomb’s detonation in a largely residential part of the city at 3am.”

“Mind Bomb everyone while they were sleeping?”

“It fits the current pattern,” Sasha said. “A different time of day, a different targeted population, a different continent every time. Broad spectrum terrorism.”

“So what? Next we should expect a North American attack at… dinnertime?”

“Within the next twenty-four hours, yes.”

Raz gulped.

“3:00am in Italy would have been 6:00pm last night for us,” Sasha said. “While I hate to suspect anyone at the Motherlobe, the only people who knew we were headed to Europe in time to prevent the detonation were those in the Nerve Center during the emergency meeting and those preparing to leave on the Osprey. I’ve asked Truman to look into it.”

“Are we sure the Belluchi bomb didn’t catch cold feet?” Otto asked.

“We aren’t, this is speculation,” Sasha said. “I’m only entertaining it because of something Razputin brought up with Milla and I yesterday. He suspected Pergola was working with Hornblower – unlikely at best – but highlighted the significance of these three seemingly unrelated incidents happening in such rapid succession. First Morry, then Maligula, now Hornblower. There could be a connection.”

“Another mole?”

“Or the same one.”

Otto pouted. “So do you think the New Thinkers and the Deluginists are in cahoots?”

“No, nothing like that.” He folded one arm across his chest. “This Hornblower attack is at a much larger scale for starters. The New Thinkers already had all the resources they needed and they despise Non-Psychics, so they would be disinclined to work with a Non-Psychic cult.”

“Plus, who needs to resurrect Maligula when you’ve already got something like Hornblower in your pocket.”

Sasha hummed in agreement. “Of course with that said, if Malik had bargained something of ours… vulnerability, perhaps… it would make much more sense to launch these two attacks at the same time. Spreading our agents across the globe would make the brain swap much easier to execute undercover, and with Gristol Mailk as Grand Head he could use our resources for his necromancy plan. Finding Maligula alive was never something the Deluginists expected. When we raided the casino, we found proof that they still thought Maligula was dead and were searching for her body all over the world. If he was in contact with the New Thinkers about the prison break – an event tied to scheduled Psilirium maintenance – then having the Psychonauts compromised during a global disaster would help both of their plans. Instead, Truman was kidnapped a mere three weeks before the escape, and the strategy for locating Maligula’s body was reliant on reconstructing Ford’s mind, not a global search. No, there's no evidence of collusion between the Deluginists and the New Thinkers. Nor the New Thinkers and the Mentalists, for that matter. The Mentalists WERE warned, that’s clear, but I cannot understand what the New Thinkers stood to benefit from that.”

“Maybe they were just being nice?”

“That certainly fits my impression of them so far,” Sasha said. “No, I was considering something more amorphous as a cause. More global. Submarine perhaps? Tremors releasing Psionic chemicals into the water supply causing Psitanium maddening akin to Morry’s at Whispering Rock? A shift in geopolitics creating some legal advantage we’ve overlooked? There’s still those odd bank statements…”

“Maybe it’s astrological,” Otto suggested. “Everyone saw a message in the stars and took it as a sign to launch their separate plans.”

“Morry doesn't subscribe to new-age ideas.”

“He still reads his horoscope.”

“Hmm….” Sasha dragged the cigarette again.

Otto leaned on the crate. “Sasha. Seriously. You’re thinking too much, again.”

“Thinking calms me down.”

“Then think about this!” Otto Levitated a bulky metal gadget out of the crate. It was squat and orange with two massive wheels affixed on either side of a slanted chute. Otto dropped the machine on the floor of the storage room and punched a button on the top. The gizmo trembled, coughed a cloud of dust, and popped upright on a set of telescoping tripod legs.The words “Discus 2000” were printed on the side in blue letters.

Sasha lowered his cigarette. “You're joking.”

“Use your imagination!” Otto elbowed him. “If I could count the number of times I've wanted to point a skeet shooter at you over the years…”

Sasha heaved a laugh. Raz’s heart skipped. He hadn’t heard a genuine laugh out of his mentor since the first Mind Bomb went off. Ford said Sasha lost his sense of humor on missions – he certainly had on this one – but this new gadget had gotten one out of him somehow. Sasha bent over the machine for a more thorough examination. “Can you randomize the direction it shoots?”

“I'll build a little motor for it right now.”

“Excellent. Send it over to the Coliseum when it's done. I'll be there for the rest of the day.”

Raz went Invisible and tucked himself deeper into the boxes as Sasha marched past him to the laboratory’s exit. Otto stopped a foot from Raz’s hiding spot and called as the doors opened. “Say… Sasha?”

He turned, one hand in his pocket.

“I'll be thinking about your theory. Maybe after all this Hornblower nonsense is over, we can get a coffee and discuss it. Pick each other's brains a bit?”

He warmed. “Sounds good.”

“I’ll put it on my calendar.”

Sasha raised a hand in farewell and exited back to the quarry. Otto waited for the door alarms to die out before dropping his hopeful tone like a rock. “I know you’re there, Razputin.”

Raz clunked his head against the cave wall and climbed out of his hiding spot. “You saw me with Clairvoyance?”

“No, I sensed you bouncing around in my pneumatic tube system.” He tapped the eye-shaped pendant around his neck. “You know that’s meant for Brains Only, right? The Brain Only Network?”

“I have a brain,” Raz said. “It’s in my head, but it’s there.”

“Could have fooled me,” Otto snorted. “How much did you hear?”

“A lot.”

“And I suppose you’re feeling proud of yourself?” Otto said. “Sneaking around. Muddling people’s heads with your half-baked theories?”

Raz bristled. “I wasn’t muddling, I just had some concerns – ”

Otto’s eyes flashed. “Stop. Bothering. The man.”

Raz drew back, gobsmacked but Otto persisted.

“I’ve heard about what you’ve been doing. Lurking around Sasha and Milla, distracting them on purpose, undermining Sasha’s motivation, straight-up TELLING him you don’t believe in him.”

“I didn’t do any of that!” Raz retorted.

“Not according to my sources.”

“What sources? Not Sasha, right?”

Otto adjusted his glasses. “Not directly.”

“Listen, I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but I’d never try to sabotage anyone! Especially not Sasha, I want him to win as much as you do. I just had some worries – ” Raz stalled, every drop of indignation spitting back in his face. He HAD told Sasha he thought the training was bad. AND asked him to stop. And just moments before, he’d told Webb about Pergola. He’d sided against Team A in his heart if not out loud. And Milla said Sasha was worried… could that be his fault too? In the “send positive thoughts” kind of way? Raz flushed with shame, but set his jaw and met Otto’s confrontational tone. “It’s not like you want him to fight Hornblower, either.”

“Of course, I don’t.”

“Then just make him stop! You’re the one who said you outrank him by miles.”

“I outrank him, but I’m not going to disrespect him,” Otto scoffed. “He’s an expert in his field and a full grown adult. He can make his own choices.”

“But you think he’s wrong!”

“Oh, on the contrary. Being a reckless, duty-driven idiot might be one of Agent Nein’s flaws, but that doesn’t mean what he’s doing is WRONG. Saving the world is never wrong, as unpleasant as it sometimes is. Sasha and Milla are field agents, it is their job to take the risks the rest of us don’t. To take the HITS the rest of us don’t.”

Raz’s heart clogged his throat.

“If I order Sasha not to do his job, who does it instead? Me?” Otto continued, bitterly. “I’m too old to pick fights like that. Frankly, I wasn’t a strong enough Psychic at his age to try this sort of thing back then, either. Me? I do gadgets. That’s MY job. So I’m going to ‘gadget’ as hard as I can to make sure this mission comes off rosy. Do I want my friend to fight this guy? No. But when he does, come hell or high water, I’ll have done all I can to help him prepare.”

The tinkerer floated his new project with him back to the laboratory’s main workbench. The surface was covered in half-built machines and bundles of wire. In the center was a canister resembling a water cooler like the ones Raz used to fill drinking cups in Fanrong. There was even a giant red “N” printed on the side of it like it used to belong to a college football team. Raz cleared his throat. “Is that the neutralizer?”

“What I have of it.”

“Did Sasha and Milla tell you about the discovery they made yesterday? About Pergola and the Mind Storm?”

“They did.”

“Did it help?”

“Some.”

Otto set the shooter on the table, extended the legs, and bent himself for a closer look at the bottom. He groped about the counter for a screwdriver. The tension tightened with each screw.

“Um…” Raz rocked on the balls of his feet. “Has Lili been by?”

“Not that I’ve seen.”

“She said she needed a gadget.”

“Then maybe she used one of my well placed and convenient Otto-Matic Vending Machines which I’ve littered throughout campus to keep people from interrupting me.” Otto’s eyebrows arched, expectantly – a cue for Raz to get lost. Raz ducked his head and chose to use the front door, but Otto cleared his throat. “Razputin, wait.”

Raz turned, expecting to get snapped at again.

Otto set his screwdriver aside and straightened. “I’m not generally a touchy-feely kind of person, so I’ll try to make this brief. Everyone on the team is concerned about the duel plan, that doesn’t make you special. What DOES make you special is your mentor.” He paused to hold Raz’s gaze. “Whatever you are to Sasha, he is to me. And I know how far I’d go for him if the situation required it. Don’t take that for granted and act a fool about it.”

Raz sucked his teeth, not sure what “act a fool” meant and not prepared to process it in light of “whatever you are to Sasha.” Raz knew how HE felt about his mentor, but hadn’t spent a lot of time considering the other way around. What about Raz made him worth mentoring? What made him different from Norma, who he was more alike than he felt comfortable admitting. Both were curious, good at spying, and reminiscent of Sasha’s younger self… yet Raz was someone Sasha wanted supporting him through a difficult challenge, and Norma was let go with barely a thought.

Otto was still staring. Raz cleared his throat. “I’ll do better.”

“Good. Because if you insist on being a doomsayer, I don’t want to see you at the fight tomorrow.” Otto shoved a box toward him across the table. “Take this up to the labs for me.”

Raz did a double-take. “What?”

“Dr. Cao and Oleander in lab 3B on the second floor. I need this delivered immediately.”

“Compton’s actually expecting me upstairs right now…”

“Deliver it and don’t drop it.” Otto returned to tinkering with the shooter. “Team B appreciates your service.”

Chapter Text

Raz carried the cardboard box up the hovering platforms from Otto’s lab to the Motherlobe, irritated both by the nerve of Otto giving him chores when he was already late for his new assignment with Compton, AND by the accusation that Raz was sabotaging Sasha’s Weaponkinesis project on purpose! Him? Sabotaging a Psychonaut mission? Ridiculous. And to say it when Otto ALSO thought the whole thing was a bad idea and should stop at its soonest convenience was just hypocritical! Honestly! And what was that bit about Sasha considering Raz particularly important to him or something? Preposterous. Sasha and Milla took mentees all the time, it wasn’t like he was SPECIAL or anything… even if Sasha did ask HIM personally to be at the final exam. And requested he come on the Lowha Lasung mission. Especially if Raz really really wanted to be.,,

He hovered the box with Telekinesis between bounces to keep from rattling the glass bottles and stomped across the empty Pelican landing pad to the front entrance. The sliding doors opened, revealing a familiar figure leaning on the reception desk, attempting to barter his way in.

“I’m Augustus Aquato. You know? Agent Razputin’s father?”

“Dad?”

The acrobat turned with relief. “Oh good, there you are!”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for Frazie,” he said. “She snuck out after dinner last night and hasn’t come back. Your mother’s gone to town to ask if they’ve seen her there, but I thought she might come here.”

Of course it was Frazie. It wasn’t like Mom was worried about HIM. “Frazie’s fine.”

“You’ve seen her?”

“Yeah, she spent the night here,” Raz said. “She’s inside right now, dealing with some emotional stuff. She’ll be back when she’s ready.”

“What a relief!” Augustus clapped a hand over his heart. “We thought we’d lost her, too.”

“Too?” Raz prompted. He wasn’t trying to be surly, but talking to his dad had time-skipped him right back to borscht dinner.

“Come now, Razputin. We are doing our best. It’s just that – two children running away in the same number of months?” Augustus shook his head. “My heart can’t take much more of this.”

Raz’s stomach soured. “Sorry.”

“If Frazie really is safe, I’ll let you two be,” he said. “Your mother will be glad to know you’re okay. Just, promise me you’ll tell us if you go anywhere ELSE other than this? You left us once, then you came back, and now it appears you’ve left us again. I can accept it if you don’t want to return to the circus right now. It is far more important to me that we don’t lose you for good.”

“Dad… I… ” Raz considered the box in front of him. He didn’t have time to hash everything out with his father at that moment, but he’d already abandoned family dinner in favor of Psychonauts stuff, so he was pretty sure what the messaging would be if he did it again. “You haven’t been practicing your Pyro as much recently.”

“Well, we’ve been busy, son.” Augustus shrugged. “Two shows a week, you know?”

“Would you like to come in and meet some Psychics?” he asked. “Maybe there’s a Pyro in here that can give you some tips. And you can talk to Frazie about last night, assuming she wants to.”

The scar above his father’s eye scrunched. “You mean… come inside here?”

“Yeah. In the building.”

“You want me to go in with you?”

Raz frowned. “You think I’m embarrassed to be seen with you.”

“No! No, of course not.” He struggled to put his hands in his long-nonexistent back pockets. “You’ve just never asked me in before. I was startled, that’s all.”

Raz sighed. “Come on, I’m already late for work.”

Raz signed his father in as a visitor and got him a name tag. Like Frazie before him, Augustus didn’t know how to Levitate, so they had to take the slow platform up the levitube to the Atrium. The two rose through the floor hatch and into the sunlit dome of floating platforms, levitating agents, and indoor topiaries. Augutus’s eyes went wide and a flutter filled Raz’s stomach. It wasn’t hard to remember the first time HE saw the Motherlobe Atrium, with its inspiring design and emphasis on wonder. It was almost sad how quickly it had become ‘work’ to him, but that came with running back and forth through it all day. Augustus watched an agent floating overhead on the way to the elevator wall. “Astounding!”

“Just a normal day for us.”

“It’s hard to imagine a place where being Psychic is ‘normal,’” Augustus marveled with a twinge of regret. “If your grandfather… grandparents… could have lived to see it.”

Raz steered him to the hidden elevator bank and pressed the nigh-invisible button built into the wall. Plaster panels folded back, exposing three cylindrical cars. Augustus considered the polished metal walls as he boarded. “A bit unnecessary to hide them like that, isn’t it?”

“The Psychonauts walk a lot of people through the Atrium. Government folks, school visits, guests. They didn’t want anyone down where the REAL work happens.”

“Except us?” Augustus asked.

“Right.”

“I feel so daring!”

Raz couldn’t help grinning. “I have to drop this box off on the third basement, but then I can take you to Frazie in the library. It’ll only take a minute. Hopefully.”

The car stopped on Basement 3, a “let’s all work together” basement dedicated to science and progress, with a heavy Victorian Era vibe. There were quiet rooms, private study spaces, conference rooms, workshop space, and fully-stocked scientific laboratories… communal ones agents could reserve, not private ones Otto’s or Sasha’s. All Psychonauts were encouraged to take on personal research projects and expand their minds in whatever ways they felt drawn. If their project had promise, they could present it to the admins for funding used to write a paper, or a book, or make a prototype. Sometimes that meant using controlled testing spaces like wind tunnels or sound-proof rooms, but sometimes it took video equipment, or hot rooms, or even controlled substances. There was no telling what wild stuff went on in Basement 3, or even how deep into the quarry wall it extended.

The place was kept cluttered and intimate with dark-paneled cornices and whale-oil-styled lamps in sconces for light. The walls were papered in fabric with little brains stitched into it, but one hardly noticed the pattern behind the sheer amount of frames and cabinets hung up. Art, photography, framed newspapers, certificates, mounted artifacts or trophies, glass cabinets of old specimens, shelves of antique books, carved busts, and sculptures crowded every inch of every wall. The individual laboratory doors were made of reclaimed wood with big black metal rings for doorknobs and hinges that Raz was pretty sure were creaky on purpose. If Dr. Loboto had stuck around, he would feel right at home mutating fish somewhere in the labyrinth of spooky, numbered hallways… and assuming that no one had checked the corners recently, he might already be there.

The lobby outside the elevator was decorated like an 18th century discussion salon with ornate furniture and little cocktail tables. The walls and floors were just as cluttered as the branching hallways were, with electric-powered candelabras and a hanging stalactite forest of Edison bulbs to drive back the gloom. Agents sat in knots of conversation about the space, their voices muffled by the clutter and their groupings far enough from each other to feel private while still contributing to the overall vibe of progressing thought. The numbered hallways branched off on either side with odds on the left and evens on the right, and the salon was REALLY long to compensate with a full coffee shop built into the back wall.

The extravagance was almost sufficient to distract from the REAL dominating feature of Basement 3; The Vault. Directly behind the elevators, recessed from the metal shafts, was a massive set of steel doors with equally massive hinges and locks. The doors were emblazoned with an acid-burned relief of the Psychonauts emblem twenty feet tall and twenty feet wide. The brutalist installation marked the entrance to the warehouse portion of the Motherlobe where everything from toilet paper to tank treads were cataloged and stored. Raz had never been inside, but got the impression it was inhabited by gremlins, warped by time and endless dark to navigate the crates and shelves at the cost of tolerance for fresh air and daylight… a theory that wasn’t debunked by the only living employee, who was a single warehouse attendant trapped behind a frosted window, reducing them to nothing but a mysterious silhouette.

Augustus spun in a circle to take in the extremes. ‘My goodness!”

“I don’t think the big door is actually used,” Raz said. “I know for sure there’s an industrial elevator in the hangar one floor up that takes shipments of stuff straight down into the warehouse… so this might just be decor.”

“It seems you Psychonauts think of everything.”

“Brains are our business.”

“And your aesthetic, apparently.”

“Hmph.” Raz nodded toward the left-hand hallways. “Otto said this box belongs in laboratory 3b. I think it’s over here…”

The Aquatos advanced into the intellectual half of the basement, locating Hall 3 by a pewter plaque on the wall and advancing two doors inward to find the lab labeled 3B. Inside was a tall-ceilinged workspace lined with backlit stained-glass windows depicting scientific tools and packed with cabinets full of vacuum tubes, bunsen burners, glass piping, and colored liquid in coiled tubes.

Dr. Cao was working in the middle of one of the lab tables with Coach Oleander sitting on a tall stool nearby. He had something that looked like a colander on his head.

“Hey there, Razputin,” Oleander said. “Didn’t expect to see you down here.”

“Agent Mentallis sends his regards.” Raz slid his parcel on the tabletop. “What are you two up to?”

Dr. Cao raised his head. He was wearing a pair of magnifying goggles that made him look a lot like a praying mantis – one that was visibly irritated and balancing an ice pack on top of his head. “We’re testing activated Psilirium vapor.”

“Is that part of the neutralizer?”

“Could be.” He bent back over his workstation and dropped a milliliter of glowing liquid onto a gauze square. “Mostly it’s for hats.”

“Well now!” Augustus announced as he entered. “This is certainly a room, isn’t it? I confess, I expected the inside of your building to be more… modern looking. Which of you here is Dr. Frankenstein?”

Dr. Cao was unamused. “Who is this fun new character?”

“This is my dad, Augustus Aquato.”

“Aquato!” Oleander popped the experimental hat off his head with a sucking sound and replaced it with his usual pointed helmet. “Welcome to our humble abode!”

“Ah yes, Agent Oleander wasn’t it?” Augustus crossed his arms. “It’s nice to see you from the outside.”

Dr. Cao shot a pointed look at Raz. “Pardon me?”

“It’s a long story,” Raz said.

“Don’t be shy!” Oleander barked. “Gus here assisted in that little brain-meld episode Raz and I got tangled up in last month. Once you’ve been in a trench like that, you come out bonded, am I right?”

“Yes, uh, bonded!” Augustus grinned at Raz like he was doing the boy a favor.

The doctor gave up on his experiment and traded the magnifying goggles for his normal black-rimmed glasses. “I take it that means you are Psychic as well, Mr. Aquato?”

“Oh, I dabble a bit.” Augustus chuckled. “Nothing like what you do out here. Until recently, I was living a Non-Psychic lifestyle. For security, you know? Before these recent events, I hadn’t entered another mind since I was a boy! Most of my career has been as an entertainer. We have a circus set up in the Questionable Area if you haven’t attended. Psychonauts get a sponsor’s discount at the door!”

Raz groaned. Dr. Cao gave him a quick smile. “Things begin to make sense.”

Augustus eased his weight onto one foot. “That’s an interesting accent you have, doctor. Where are you from?”

“Dad!” Raz recoiled.

“Hong Kong originally,” Dr. Cao replied. “Although I’ve been all over.”

“Your English is very good.”

“I’ve been using it a while.”

“Dad, stop!” Raz persisted. “You can’t just ask people where their accent is from! It’s rude!”

“What’s rude about it? I think everyone should be proud of their heritage,” Augustus said. “As Grulovians, our history is all that we have.”

“Grulovia!” Dr. Cao brightened. “No wonder your family has such a strong Psychic vein running through it. Quite the Psitanium deposit out there. Have you visited our research center at the border? Wonderful facility.”

“I’m afraid we haven’t been back to the old country in some time.” Augustus sighed.

“Well, then, you might get another chance!” Oleander interjected. “Word on the street says we’re headed back to Grulovia sooner than later. Could use some translator/liaison-type assistance if you’re interested? Assuming we still exist after all this.”

“Still exist?” Augustus’s brow arched. “Is something wrong?”

All of Raz’s nerves stood on end. When he invited his father into the building, he wasn’t expecting to give him a crash course in all the stuff Raz had been purposefully keeping from him. “Everything’s fine! We were just leaving!”

“Not so fast, soldier,” the coach said. “YOU are late for an assignment! Compton put out a general ping asking where you were.”

Raz cringed. “He did?”

“You’re over an hour due for roll call.”

“I’ve been doing Psychonauts stuff!” Raz pointed to the sample box. “See? It wasn’t like I was goofing off.”

Oleander coughed a laugh. “Calm down, son, it’s only the end of the world! Compton’s got plenty of helpers. I’ll let him know where you’ve been.”

“Would you?”

“A’course! What else am I doing down here?” He eyed Dr. Cao with disapproval. “It’s not like I’m working on a LASER or anything.”

“Grand Head Zanotto said no lasers.” Dr. Cao replied for what sounded like a hundredth time.

Oleander scoffed, his fists on his hips. “Hollis said ‘’yes lasers’ and I like that answer a lot better.”

“She talked to you about her plan?” Raz asked.

“Oh yeah, we had a lot of time on the Pelican to discuss the details.”

“Did she mention her ideas about the scapegoat?”

“Nah, nothing about that.” Oleander said. “But she DID okay me to develop a long-distance Hornblower solution… as long as it’s non-lethal. Seems silly, but I can understand the practical application. If we’re gonna use this thing on future missions, having a non-lethal element broadens its operational scope as it were, and I’ve already got a blueprint drawn up on how to convert it to ‘kill mode’ later. She’s also letting me mount it on the Spoonbill!”

Augustus bit his lip. “You’re putting it on a bird?”

“For the last time no, it’s not going on the bird!” Oleander cried.

“The Spoonbill is a plane, Dad,” Raz explained.

“It’s our mobile field unit and vehicle carrier,” Oleander said with pride. “Holds a squad of ground troops with enough room left for an Abrams tank in the belly! AND, if we end up taking Hornblower prisoner, it’s the only aircraft currently equipped with a GPC containment cell, so he can’t get any messages to or from his dastardly cohort en-route.”

“Or detonate himself as a bomb when he’s caught?” Raz asked.

“No, he can probably still do that. That’s what this helmet is for.” Oleander rapped on the colander-hat with a gong sound.

Dr. Cao removed his ice pack and rubbed his temple. “If we get it done in time for the team to use it. Agent Mentallis’s current Brain-Box technology isn’t designed to prevent the function of a user’s mind, simply to prevent the thoughts from projecting further than the head. That works for most – a Levitator can’t levitate someone if their thoughts never reach them – but for something like the bomb that takes place entirely in the victim’s mind? It’s not good enough. And the structural integrity of even our best helmets wouldn’t survive a blast of mental energy the size of one of these bombs. We’re attempting to enhance them with skull-permeating chemicals.”

“The Psilirium aerosol.” Raz guessed.

“If we’re lucky,” Dr. Cao said. “The goal of this device is to make these men safer to deal with while we try to deprogram them, but we can’t use traditional Psilirium radiation without it affecting our team as well, not to mention making mental exploration and any Psychic treatment impossible, so Agent Mentallis is trying to come up with a device that can prevent a detonation without cooking our subject’s brain in the process.”

“Let ‘em cook a bit,” Oleander grunted. “Serves ‘em right.”

Dr. Cao pouted. “With that mindset we might as well kill them on sight.”

“Hey! Even better!”

Augustus regarded his son with gritted teeth. “Is this the kind of conversation you all have often?”

Raz cringed. “It hasn’t been a normal week – ”

“Saving the world is big business, Gus!” Oleander interrupted in his drill sergeant voice. “Gotta bash some heads in sometimes. I’m sure Raz told you about the cities full of mindless people we’ve been rehabilitating the last couple of days.”

Augustus’s eyes widened. “Cities full of what?”

“So you see, the world needs soldiers like us,” Oleander said. “To be a Psychonaut is to face dangers to mind and body head-on! We go where people run from. It takes heart, courage, determination! And without us, criminals like Hornblower would be left to run wild!”

Raz was bolstered by the speech, but Augustus looked skeptical. “I can understand how sometimes violence is warranted, but are you really building death rays and combat planes around here? When I spoke with your coworkers at that summer camp, they assured me that stealing brains and building tanks wasn’t common behavior for Psychonaut staff members. Wasn’t this supposed to be a peacekeeping organization? Or did I misunderstand?”

“We are,” Dr. Cao replied. “Unfortunately most of the time, we’re the only ones ASKING for peace when we’re invited somewhere. That’s why protecting ourselves is one of our five core tenants.”

“That line of thinking I do understand,” Augustus said. “I’m just making sure I’m clear on what kind of establishment my son belongs to. The world is a dark place, I’ve seen it but in my experience, it’s better to detract from that where we can instead of adding to the sum of it. Perhaps that sometimes involves Psychic helmets and elaborate chemical experiments, but sometimes it involves putting on a performance to make folks smile and forget their troubles twice a week. We all contribute the best we can.”

Dr. Cao smiled for the first time in the conversation. “I see where Razputin gets his spirit from.”

Augustus beheld his son with glowing pride. Raz blushed and cleared his throat. “We uh, we gotta get going.”

“Right, right,” Augustus said. “Thank you gentlemen for an enlightening conversation. Good luck with whatever strangeness you’re doing in here.”

Oleander saluted. “Keep fightin’ that good fight, soldier.”

Raz matched his father’s pace across the salon to the elevator, heart unsure about what had just happened, but acutely aware that Augustus now knew about exploding sky lasers.

“Don’t put a lot of stock in the stuff they were talking about in there,” Raz said. “We’re in the middle of a really important mission right now. It has everyone keyed up.”

“I thought they were very nice,” Augustus said.

“Yeah, but like… the tanks and stuff.”

“I’ve seen much more in this world than you think I have, Razputin,” Augustus said. “You forget I was a Psychic and a refugee long before you knew me. I’m glad at least someone is out here defending the victims of the world, although I wonder if that coach of yours is as right in the head as he claimed at your campground.”

“He passed all his safety checks, he’s just got a lot of enthusiasm.”

“He does have that.”

They boarded the elevator and descended two floors to the library. Augustus ‘oo’d and ‘awe’d at the forest scenery, putting Raz back on familiar ground just before entering the next warzone. He stopped them outside the Natural Resources door. “Okay. Frazie was really upset last night, so I’m going to go in first and ask her if she wants to talk. I’ll come back and tell you what she says.”

Augustus crossed his arms. “If you think that’s best.”

“Just… don’t run off anywhere.”

“I understand, Razputin. I can be patient.”

Raz slipped through the oaken doors and into the library. Frazie was still in the corner where he left her, surrounded by even more boxes of comics than she had been. Also present was Gisu reading a magazine, and Zheng Ling who was still wearing Mirtala’s tiara between her pigtails.

“Hello, Razzzzzzzzz!” Ling called. Everyone at the surrounding tables shushed her.

“Hi, Ling,” Raz said at a more appropriate decibel. “Did your dad give you my message from last night?”

“Yes but…” She pointed at Frazie.

Raz shook his head. “That still doesn’t mean Tala’s coming to play with you.”

“Aww.”

“Did you come down here to find Frazie on purpose or was it just luck?”

Ling shrugged. “Baba working with Number Lady. She said I couldn’t help her… now I’m helping here!” Ling showed Raz the issue of True Psychic Tales she was reading. “I found trees!”

He smiled. “Good job.”

“Write it down like I said.” Frazie tapped the notebook they were sharing. “The book number and the story number.”

She scribbled with a purple crayon. “Numbers, numbers, numbers….”

“Hey Frazie, can I talk – ” Raz stopped short and narrowed his eyes at Gisu who was watching him sidelong. “Aren’t you supposed to be upstairs on Compton’s research team?”

“I’m looking up reference materials.” She returned her eyes to the BMX magazine in her hand.

Suspicion mounted. “You are?”

“Lupe’s getting them.”

“Uh, huh.”

“As if you have room to talk anyway!” Gisu snapped in sudden anger. “You’ve been everywhere in the building except where you’re supposed to be. Too good for following orders or are you just bad at it?”

“I knew it! You’v been spying on me! Are you the one who talked to Otto about me?”

“It’s none of your business who I do or do not talk to.”

“Because he’s got some pretty unflattering ideas.”

“People talk around here, haven’t you noticed?” Gisu turned the page. “People even talk to Otto, even though he hates it.”

“What people?”

“Sasha, of course. Milla. Sometimes the two together, but not always. Truman comes by. Even Ford, now that he’s not crazy. Maybe he’s the one being unflattering.”

Raz crossed his arms. “For some reason I don’t think so.”

Gisu slapped her magazine closed against the table that made the eavesdroppers nearby jump. “Leave me alone, okay, Pooter? As far as I’m concerned, you’re the reason my life went haywire. Before you got here I had it great. My social life was great. I got to sleep through class. Slack off whenever I wanted to… now I’m stuck assigned to dumb Agent Boole reviewing security footage when I could have been Otto’s intern helping him build the gizmo that’s gonna save everyone’s cans.”

A spark of injustice fired in him, but they were in a library so he tamped it down and answered cooly. “Ignoring the fact that if I hadn’t shown up, Gristol Malik wouldn’t have gotten caught and you’d all be dealing with Maligula right now, AND ignoring the fact that that me defeating her got the rest of you all promoted… I think this misplaced anger is really aimed at someone else.”

“Oh my God do NOT bring up Dion to me right now.”

“I didn’t say anything about Dion.”

Gisu’s face reddened.

Frazie rolled her eyes. “Holy cow, are you two done? I’m trying to read.”

Raz sighed and finally finished the question he’d started with. “Can I talk to you in private?”

“Private? Really?”

“It’s important.”

She pouted. “Okay, make it quick. I’m in the middle of a really good story right now.”

Raz led the two away from the table where Gisu was still glaring and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Dad came looking for you.”

“UGH!” She heaved. The tables around shushed her.

“He just wants to know you’re okay. If you tell him to go away he’ll go. He’s waiting outside.”

“You mean you brought him down here?” Frazie grunted. “Him? Here? Really?”

“I was on a time crunch.”

She pouted and crossed her arms. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Why would I want that?”

“I don’t know, because you’re annoyed you have to babysit your older sister?”

“You’re not annoying,” he said. “I’m actually really glad you’re here. It’s fun to have someone in the family I can share this stuff with. I’d hang out with you more except we’re in the middle of a life or death international crisis that I’m currently late to help out with.”

Frazie’s scowl deepend.

Raz groaned in frustration. “Will you talk to him or not?”

She studied the floor, then the ceiling, and dropped her crossed arms. “Okay, I’ll talk.”

“Great, let’s go get him – ”

“Frazzzzzie!” Ling ran screaming across the library, leaving shushes behind her like a wake. She halted between the siblings and held up a book. “Trees AND mountains!”

Raz glanced at the panel and was struck through with a blast of adrenaline. He snatched the book from her hand and stared in disbelief. The twisted treeline. The mountain range. The cracks in the floor of his mindscape ached in recognition. “This is it!”

“Shh!” The tables hissed again.

He ignored them. “Ling, you’re amazing! I gotta get this upstairs. Make sure Dad gets to the elevator when you’re done, okay?”

“What? Raz!” Frazie called but he’d already busted out the library door.

Augustus jumped back. “Well? Did – ”

“She’ll be right out!”

Raz bypassed the elevators and shot straight for the OttoB.O.N. hatch, not caring if Otto could sense him in there or not. He dove in head-first for an express trip to the Nerve Center. He was showing up late, but he was bringing them gifts.

Chapter Text

“That’s it!” Raz pointed at the image of a landscape as it flashed across one of the stationary Nerve Center readout screens. Compton clicked back through the photos and levitated Raz’s issue of True Psychic Tales up for comparison. The mountain range on the screen and on the one on the page were remarkably similar with the same line of scratchy black trees crusting the foot.

The Junior Psychonauts minus Gisu watched over Raz’s shoulder. Norma rolled her eyes. “That could be anywhere.”

“It’s the same place! I know it!” Raz retorted. “It’s where the Pyro was dragging me when I had him on the lasso!”

“You’re absolutely certain?” Compton pressed him. “No doubt in your mind?”

“None at all. This is the same place!”

Compton leaned toward his console and pressed a button. “Truman?”

The speaker replied with the Grand Head’s voice. “Yep.”

“Can you come down here please?”

“Right-o.”

“I’m telling you, This mountain and these trees are generic as store brand,” Norma insisted. “At best they’re from the same continent.”

“Seriously,” said Lizzie. “I don’t know why we’re trusting a gut feeling based on a picture in a comic book.”

“We are trusting it because it’s Agent Aquato’s gut feeling.” Compton spun his chair to face the small crowd. “Razputin saw the place we’re looking for in an extremely vulnerable state of mind. If he had the trauma response he claims he did, then the image is similar enough to warrant more thorough investigation.”

“Trauma response…?” Raz poked at the base of his skull and imagined himself rubbing the cracks below the caravan of his mind. “I guess that makes sense.”

“What issue is it?” Adam asked, ready to take notes.

Raz reclaimed the magazine from Compton. ““Number 401, ”A Thought of Revenge. It’s the audience submission for that collection.”

“What’s the story about?” Morris asked.

“That was one of the ones that I read,” Sam offered. “It was about Psychic poachers exploding caribou with their minds.”

Compton looked scandalized. “I don't remember that happening!”

“Chill, Grampa. Hollis was in it. You were probably locked in the GPC already.”

Neither Raz nor Compton were reassured by this. Thankfully Truman descended through his levitube just in time to refocus the discussion. “Alright, Agent Boole, what have you got for me?”

“The Brooks range.” Compton enlarged the image on the screen. “Within the Arctic circle. It crowns the top of Alaska and bleeds into the Yukon. One of the wildest and most remote parts of North America.”

Truman considered it. “And this is where Hornblower is?”

“We’re not sure, but it’s possible.”

“I find it hard to believe there is one, but are there any New Thinkers chapters that far north?”

“There are barely any people that far north,” Compton replied. “But there IS a large New Thinkers chapter in Vancouver. One of my persons of interest is the son of the Vancouver chapter leader, in fact.”

“The Arctic Circle is a long commute from Vancouver,” Truman noted.

“I’m not proposing the club meets there,” Compton said. “Perhaps they have a safehouse or a retreat. The Brook’s Range is one of the last wildernesses on earth. There are few communities with more than a thousand residents and no roads, but many airstrips. Hard to reach but not wholly wild.”

“A bad place for rich men to have an exclusive club, but a good place for terrorists who can afford private planes to escape long-term,” Truman guessed.

“And hide forty escaped convicts if they need to,” Compton agreed.

Truman stroked his beard. “What’s your next step?”

“I’d like to lead a scouting mission to survey the area,” Compton said. “We can take the Spoonbill up to do broad-spectrum physical and mental scans. It’s very likely – if this was the same place the New New Thinkers were projecting form – that there’s a Psitanium deposit in the range somewhere near their location. The mountains are peppered with asteroid shrapnel, but it’ll be significant to find one near a settlement considering how few humans, let alone Psychics, reside in the area.”

“Just a survey mission?” Truman asked. “Not an engagement mission?”

“Neither our duelist nor the neutralizer are ready for deployment,” Compton replied. “Engaging at this point would only tip them off to our suspicions and drive them back underground.”

“Okay, I’ll approve it. Do you have a team ready?”

“I will need to bring Razputin. He’s my only eye-witness.”

Raz’s pulse spiked.

Truman eyed him. “So you and Aquato?”

“I was considering the entire Junior Psychonaut team, actually,” Compton said. “It’ll allow my primary agents to keep monitoring their current targets, and it will be good field experience for all of them concerning the use of our more specialized equipment. Plus it will allow them to contribute while keeping them far away from the danger should we locate it.”

The Juniors around Raz all drew breath. Truman considered them and pouted. “You'll need another senior-level supervisor.”

“Agent Vodello?” Morris asked, hopeful.

“Agent Oleander,” Truman said.

Morris slouched. “Aww!”

“And Cassie?” Compton offered.

“That’s up to her,” Truman said. “I’ll call Demarrow and tell him to prep the Spoonbill. Gather what resources you need. You can leave in two hours.”

“Two hours?” Raz asked. A bad feeling bubbled up his throat. “How long is this mission gonna take?”

Truman arched an eyebrow. “You have plans?”

“I just…” Raz stalled. “Will we be back by tomorrow?”

“It depends on what we find,” Compton said. “The Spoonbill is not the Pelican. It can’t burn two-times fuel for two-times speed in a pinch. It will be a four-hour flight just to reach the Brooks Range, and the range itself stretches from the Yukon to the Bering Strait, so that is at least a full day of surveying from the air, then possibly longer depending on what we find and where. I’d guess twenty-four to thirty-six hours round-trip.”

“Oh.” Raz’s spirit sank. There was no way he’d make it back in time to attend Sasha's final if that was the case. Locating Hornblower was more important than anything else of course, and Raz was the only one who could confirm they were on the right track, so he couldn't refuse to go… still, it felt bad. “Nevermind.”

“Alright, Compton, Team Spoonbill is a ‘go’,” Truman said. “Report back as soon as you find something.”

“Yes, sir!” Compton chirped and spun back to his teenage team. “I have a couple calls to make. Let’s meet in the hangar in an hour. Pack an overnight bag and an extra set of clothes. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“You got it, boss!” Adam saluted.

“You got it…” Raz muttered and followed his fellows to the Atrium door. He had his own calls to make before he left for the Arctic Circle; Frazie for one, assuming she was still in the library. And Lili if he could find her. And at least one more… he wasn’t going to ghost Sasha in his time of need. In spite of Otto’s direct orders no to, Raz was going to have to bother the man.

~

Raz couldn’t imagine Sasha Nein wearing anything that wasn’t pressed, shined, or knit, and upon arriving at the handball court two turns past the practice pitch’s observation deck, he didn't have to. He found the Psychonauts' top field agent decked head to toe in complimentary agency-branded workout kit including drawstring pants, baggy t-shirt, sneakers, and a sweatband. The gizmo Otto had tinkered together was in the middle of the rebound wall with Milla’s portable turntable safely tucked behind it. The record player was blasting dance-hall quality jazz music loud enough to hear over the whirr of the machine. Sasha strafed the four courts in front of it, rotating two dozen dueling batons around him as he squeaked across the vinyl floor as fast as he could.

Raz pressed himself to the wall by the exterior door and watched Sasha dart left and right. The duelist’s cage of projectiles moved with him, smashing clay disks as they erupted from Otto’s machine. The motorized add-on varied the skeet shooter's speed and direction, expelling six-inch diameter projectiles seemingly at random. Sasha dashed to meet each one, destroying the disks with his defenses or blasting them with individual batons like clay-seeking missiles. Close calls, he either dodged or destroyed with his wrist-mounted propeller–shield by bashing it broadside or slicing straight-on like a buzzsaw. The floor was littered with dust and jagged ceramic chunks, and the back wall was lined with boxes of clay pigeons used to feed the hungry ammo chute as it chugged through stacks of disks. Batons zoomed in and out of different orbital distances, spinning at intervals and moving with a practiced ease. The whole room shimmered with a cloud of blue sparkles.

The record on the turntable ended with a crackle and the needle arm shifted to replay it from the beginning. Raz's heart skipped as he recognized the opening notes. It was a cleaner, grander version of a song Milla sang to at the Captain’s Table – the one Sasha joined her to sing the chorus for. In this new light, Raz noticed Sasha’s entire defense was synced with the composition. The closest layer pulsed with the upright bass. The outer layer swooped and spun with the brass. The middle line swayed in and out with the vocals. Even the performers’ handclaps prompted spins and swirls throughout the array. Visual music with the same medicinal quality Raz felt from the dance party in Milla’s taxed mind.

Sasha braked at the second chorus and shot his batons straight to the floor as if magnetized. He replaced them one by one with disks from the shooter, each streaking toward him with blue sparkles like tiny UFOs. The squad grew to ten, eleven, twelve. When the song entered the bridge the disks shuffled with it, shifting key and tempo to match the subtle changes. The new patterns followed the instruments as his number climbed to thirteen, seventeen, nineteen, twenty-three. At twenty-five, the song shifted into the third chorus and the rejected batons burst from the floor to join their new companions like visual morse code. Everything moved in harmony. Sasha pantomimed the song’s ending cymbal in victory.

“Woohoo!” Raz called.

Sasha turned to look and the swarm rotated with his head. A baton clipped the ceiling and ricocheted into its neighbors, beginning a broad collapse that Sasha reined in with both arms like ‘woah’ing a wild horse. The chaos split and reorganized, batons stacking themselves into a pyramid on his left and pigeons forming a set of columns on his right. Sasha opened a palm to the shooter and switched both it and the turntable off with one flick as he jogged across the handball court. He stopped at the door, soaked with sweat and breathing hard. “Hello, Razputin.”

“Hello.” Raz pointed at the dented ceiling. “Sorry about that.”

“Oh, that’s alright. I need to practice that part, too.” Sasha cut a smile. The stack of clay disks behind him reloaded themselves into the ammo chute. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I…” Raz backpedaled, reticent to disappoint Sasha when he actually seemed happy for once, “… just came down here to check on you! Congrats on getting out of Prime Number Purgatory.”

“Thank you very much. And let this serve as a lesson.” His mentor wagged a finger. “When you encounter difficulties in any project and progress hits a wall you can either give up and accept defeat or find a new, more creative solution. By experimenting with ideas and attempting new tactics you may discover a fresh angle that is both effective and enjoyable!”

The positive energy was soothing. Reminiscent of easier times. “I'm glad you're having fun.”

“Learning new things is always fun. It's learning things in a hurry that spoils everything.” Sasha sobered a bit, studying him. “Are you sure you didn’t need something?”

“Nope! Didn’t need anything.”

“Your sister's announcement is an exciting development. I’m sure it’s unearthed a lot of complicated feelings for you. I’m here to talk if you need to.”

“No, no, that's fine. Frazie's fine.” Raz said, but Sasha was still suspicious and the conversation was getting awkward. Raz tugged the strap of his crossbody bag where his TPT copies were stored. Protecting Sasha’s feelings wouldn’t change upcoming events. Raz levitated the library copy of “A Thought of Revenge” from his pouch. It was still open to the page with the Brooks Range landscape. “We found some clues about the New Thinkers’ hideout.”

“Oh?”

“It’s in Canada. Or maybe Alaska.” Raz levitated the book into Sasha’s hand. “Compton’s taking the Junior Agents on a scouting mission to investigate.”

“That will be good experience for you.” Sasha skimmed the page and floated it back. “When do you leave?”

“Right away.” Raz caught the book and dropped his gaze to the dusty floor. “We… might not be back by noon tomorrow.”

“I see.”

“So I wanted to say 'good luck,’ I guess.”

“I appreciate that.”

Raz packed the magazine away, using the zipper on his bag as an excuse to avoid looking Sasha in the face. He didn't sound disappointed, but the playful tone was gone. Was he upset? Was he not? Raz felt bad about both options. The silence stretched until Sasha lowered to his haunches. He was now at Raz’s eye level and it was rude not to look back.

Sasha’s brow was raised but not knit. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I… uh…” Raz didn’t feel like retreading the talk he’d had with Otto. Or the one with Milla. Or the one with Sasha for that matter. Raz already knew he was scared, that he was worried about Sasha’s fight, and that he wasn’t supposed to think about why he felt that way on the off-chance that the negative feelings would somehow knee cap the same person inquiring about it. Then again, what kind of weight did Raz believe he really pulled? Why did a Superstar Secret Agent care what a ten year old thought?

Except he’d asked. And he was staring at him.

Raz cleared his throat. “I’m feeling bad because I wanted to support you like you asked.”

“You did?”

The challenge in the question stabbed deep into some soft spot Raz didn’t expect. “Well, yeah. You asked me to.”

“I already know what I did,” Sasha persisted. “I’m asking about you.”

Sasha’s tone and demeanor were nothing but curious, but Raz still felt a hint of danger. He’d seen Sasha and Milla interrogate perpetrators before in the comic books. Either could peel back a subject’s inhibitions and get the answers they needed just by asking the right questions, but as a pair they could bring a hardened criminal to tears. They had both played “good cop” and “bad cop” in turns, although it was more frightening when Sasha was the one being nice. Milla as “bad cop” made you scared for your life, and Sasha as “good cop” convinced you that he had everything under control… all you had to do was tell him the truth and everything would be fine.

Raz couldn’t feel any Psychic manipulation going on, but zeroed in on Sasha’s leading tone. Sasha knew Raz was hiding something.

“I… I mean, uh…”

“Milla has been keeping me updated on the state of the team. Including how you’ve been doing,” Sasha interrupted. “I doubt that’s a surprise to you.”

Raz braced himself to be told more about his own feelings.

Sasha continued. “I’m sorry if I upset you this morning with my request.”

Raz’s brain backfired like an old car. “What?”

“I apologize,” Sasha repeated. “I knew you had concerns and instead of addressing them, I put more pressure on you for my own sake. That was wrong of me. It is alright if you don’t come tomorrow.”

“You don’t… want me there?”

“Of course I do, but not at the cost of your wellbeing,” Sasha said. “You’re the reason I’m doing this, after all.”

Fear seized Raz with a pair of watery hands. It was HIS fault this was happening. He was the one who convinced Pergola to help them when the Pelican could have turned around and gone home. He was the reason Sasha was putting himself in so much danger. Raz’s throat tightened to a squeaky pinprick. “I am?”

“Yes,” Sasha said, earnestly. “You and the other young Psychics of the world who’ll suffer if this terror is allowed to persist.”

“Oh, thank god.”

“That is the mission of the Psychonauts – forge a new frontier, protect others and ourselves – especially Psychic children forced to grow up in a world that fears and rejects them. I haven’t forgotten that you came to us after running away from home.” Sasha’s tone skewed sentimental. “I was also a runaway… and not much older than you are now when I did. Except I didn’t have a place like Whispering Rock to run to, I had to navigate a judgmental and ignorant world on my own without any Psychic help or training and it led me to decisions I’ve thankfully lived to regret.”

“You were recruited by the Mentalists,” Raz recalled.

“I’m guessing Ford told you that?”

“Just that it happened, not anything else.”

“Hm,” Sasha considered for a moment, then dropped his knee and settled back on his ankle in preparation for a long story. “Before you ask, no, I was not complicit in any acts of terrorism. Nor did I meet Horatio through that association. What I DID do was join a Psychic dueling ring. It was running underground in Berlin and I was working in a steel mill there.”

“How old were you?”

“Fourteen.”

“Wow.”

Sasha warmed. “At that age, I was desperate to explore everything I could do with my Psychic abilities, which made me a perfect candidate for a group like the Mentalists. Up until then, I’d only ever experimented with my powers on my own. I was gifted from birth but I didn’t know any Psychics as a child. My father wasn’t one. My mother… I honestly don’t know. I lost her young and he never discussed her with me. His was the Greatest Generation, you understand. They lived through sadness and horror, but never spoke of it. Too painful.”

Raz could relate a little bit. He’d already seen his own horrors, and his family had lived through war – although that was before he was born. In his experience, talking about problems almost always helped him feel better, but talking could be hard when you didn’t know where to start. Raz had also peeked into some of Sasha’s memories back in Whispering Rock and gotten a good look at the broad-shouldered, mustachioed, unsmiling man that raised him… the one that never got over their mutual loss. “So does that mean your dad didn’t accept you as a Psychic?”

“I’m not sure he even noticed.”

“How could he not? The whole reason you ran away was because you read his mind.” Raz stopped himself short. He’d ALSO seen super personal private secrets while exploring Sasha’s mind. Embarrassing secrets. Stuff their owner now knew that he knew. Raz looked up, horrified, but Sasha merely smirked.

“Suffice it to say I had no one around to teach me Psychic ethics, either, hm?”

Raz bit his lip.

“And that wasn’t the only reason that I left home,” Sasha continued. “We’d quarreled before that. Many times. And to be honest, that day I embarrassed myself more than anything. I ran from the disagreement and I did so with shame, and cowardice, and an unwillingness to work through issues that could have been resolved with cooperation. Instead I chose to abandon the only family I knew, and a relationship that was worth preserving even if it took work. I would do things differently now, but back then I was young and I had a lot still to learn.”

Raz’s fears subsided, but his stomach knotted in their place. It wasn’t exactly like his exit from camp the previous night, but it was similar enough to summon the memory of his parents calling for him as he ran back to the Motherlobe. Raz cleared his throat, but his voice came out strained. “Did you ever see him again?”

“Who do you think gave me the Bavarian polka?”

The bad memory faded in the light of new hope.

Sasha noted it with another smile. “It’s never too late to learn from our mistakes,” he said. “As long as we’re still alive, there’s an opportunity to reach out, to restore, to rebuild… assuming both parties want that, and we’re brave enough to try.”

Raz returned a meager grin. “So what happened next?”

“Next?”

“Where did you go after you ran away?”

“The train station. Then the city,” Sasha answered. “Once on my own, I used my powers as much as I could. I stole, I spied, I doctored memories. I manipulated my way onto buses, into lodging, into employment. I convinced people I was older. I made them want to help me. I picked so many fights, the dueling circuit was a natural fit once I found it. The underground gave me access to a lot of undesirable people with less than noble ideals, but they TAUGHT me and I was so hungry for that. If Ford hadn’t found me there and recruited me to the Psychonauts, I’m sure I would be dead or far worse by now.”

“Was Ford still Grand Head back then?”

“He was, although not for much longer. This wasn’t long after the fight in Grulovia, so he was still mostly himself. The damage he’d done with the Astralathe was already there of course, but the cracks it left started small. They widened into chasms and eventually islands over time, but when I came to the Motherlobe he was still fairly lucid with passing moments of dissociation we wrote off as eccentricities. We had no idea what was actually happening with him, we still thought it was damage from the duel up until very recently. Of course you know all about that.”

The last thing Raz wanted to think about was cracks in his mind, and the second-to-last thing was the Deluge of Grulovia. He’d rather stay on Sasha. “Did Ford recruit you, himself?”

“He did.”

“Were you the first Agent he signed up?”

“Oh no, not by far,” Sasha said. “I was one of the youngest, though. So that’s something to note.”

“When did Milla join?”

“Years later. We were both adults by then. I’d been a field agent for a while, but was leaning toward the research and development aspects of our organization. Being partnered with Milla changed my trajectory and helped solidify the mission statement I’ve set for my career.”

“You have a mission statement?”

He nodded. “I always knew I wanted to make a future where Psychic children rejected by the larger world could find support and guidance, and Milla had a heart for protecting and nurturing young minds. She proposed a special interest project where we could engage with Psychic children one-on-one. We worked on it together between missions and presented it to the Grand Head. Compton approved the initial plan, then Truman helped us take it further. You know it as Whispering Rock, and it is why you and I are who we are now.”

Raz grinned. “A comic book hero and boy secret agent.”

“Working for a future where Psychics are supported and celebrated for their potential, not left to wander foreign streets and fall prey to bad actors.” Sasha grew serious. “I was very lucky, Razputin. If things had gone differently, I could be the one our friends are hunting right now. Wayward. Unloved. Driven by anger, hungry for power. Unafraid to cause harm. Someone neither you nor I would recognize today, yet still Sasha Nein. Still a duelist. And how many are out there now hurting each other who could be here with us if they knew another way? How many would still be alive if someone had shown up to rescue them from dark places, bad friends, and a hateful world?”

His brow leveled, then furrowed. The air started to shimmer.

“I won’t let this future our enemies want come to pass.” His voice had an echo. “We’ve made so much progress, saved so many lives and yet Hornblower and his New Thinker associates are destroying it all around us. The goal we have worked so hard to achieve is being blown to pieces with the minds of our own kind as the bombs. It must be stopped before the damage it’s caused is irreversible. Before it’s too late.”

Atmospheric pressure dropped, sucking the breath from Raz’s lungs. A high pitched keening whined until he could hear nothing else. “Sasha?”

Sasha didn’t respond. His attention was turned inward. A blue cast thickened between them, clouding the reflection in his glasses.

Raz drew a tight breath. “SASHA!”

The Psychonaut jumped and everything normalized with an audible “woosh.” Sasha cleared his throat and stood back up. “Apologies for that, too.”

“What is that?” Raz asked. “Are you okay?”

“It’s not a problem, don’t worry.”

“But you’re crucible-ing, right?” Raz pressed. “You’re burning parts of yourself away. Like a soul temper. Sasha, if it’s hurting your mind – ”

“It’s a conducive spiral,” Sasha cut him short. “A Mind Storm.”

“Mind Storm.” Raz nerves frayed even more. “Like with Milla in Fanrong.”

“And the Mind Bombs. And Weaponkinesis as an art,” Sasha said. “This technique is forcing me to unlearn my normal stress responses. It’s left me more vulnerable than usual. Which will be beneficial for the duel, but not healthy in the long run. I’ll be glad when this assignment is over.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“Not if I’m aware of it,” Sasha said. “Everyone is susceptible to running away with their thoughts. The danger comes when those who are supremely gifted or trained to wield greater power also lack the experience to rein that power in.”

“Once you lose control of your own mind, it’s very hard to get it back?”

“Precisely.”

Raz hesitated, choosing his words. “You apologized for putting pressure on me before. I owe you one, too.”

“Oh?”

“I may have said some stuff that came off wrong. See, I’ve been really worried – not because I don’t think you can complete your assignment. I think you can do anything.” Raz swallowed a knot before his voice cracked. “I’m worried because I don’t want bad stuff to happen to you. Stuff that’s not your fault. That you can’t help. That’s what I’m worried about.”

Sasha’s smile returned, wearier, but genuinely him. “Thank you, Raz. That’s nice to know.”

“It is?”

“It's always good to hear that someone cares about you,” he said. “I’ll remember that tomorrow when I’m taking my test. It might make the difference.”

Raz wet his lips. “I hope so.”

“Don’t worry about not attending, I understand why and would never hold it against you,” he assured. “We’re all working as a team right now, and to that end we all have to play our own parts. I wish you luck on your mission. Find where this villain is hiding, and we’ll all work together to put everything right.”

“Right.” Raz reached for the hallway door, but didn’t want to leave. He glanced up. “Be careful, okay?”

“I will,” Sasha said. “You be careful, too. I want you back safe.”

“I will,” Raz said. "Thanks, Sasha."

Chapter Text

“Thanks for coming to see me off,” Raz said, a little sheepishly. “Sorry I’m taking off again so soon after coming back.”

“I asked you to tell us when you were leaving and you kept your promise,” his father said. “And you’re certain it’s not going to be a dangerous mission?”

“Agent Boole said it wouldn’t be.” Raz looked past him to Frazie on the far side of the elevator car. She had her head down and her arm hugged to her side. “How’d your talk go?”

“I think it was… productive,” Augustus said. ‘There are still things for us to understand about each other, but change can’t happen if we don’t give it room to. We’re going back home after you leave to talk to your mother.”

“Really?” Raz tried to make eye contact with his sister but she refused to look back. He had no idea why she’d choose to return to the salt mines voluntarily, and didn't like seeing her so withdrawn when she was relaxed and smiling just an hour earlier. He poked the inside of her head with his mind and she glared at him.

“In fact, I think this will do positive things for us!” Augustus continued over their heads. “Maybe we can add a disappearing act to the routine! Perhaps change our name from the Amazing Aquatos to the Magical Aquatos? The Ah-Magical Aquatos? Has a clever ring to it.”

Frazie dropped her eyes. “Sure dad, whatever.”

The elevator doors opened and released the family into the second basement lobby. The level had a heavy corporate theme; polished faux-marble floor, mirrored ceiling, gaudy light fixtures, and a reception desk with a huge list of departments hanging behind it. Raz didn’t need assistance to find the hangar bay. A massive arrow directed him through a decorative set of wooden doors and into the flat artificial light of an industrial corridor. The hallway beyond the lobby was colder both in temperature and in tone with plaster-paneled walls and drop-ceilings with tube lights. It had a very I-got-lost-in-the-employee-section-of-the-mall feel to it – a reminder that the hangar was one of the first things the Psychonauts built when the Motherlobe was being installed. The Psychic Six intended everyone to use the levitubes to reach the atrium and only carved out the back hallway for Non-Psychic staff. Raz checked the signage as they passed a series of plain gray doors labeled “sanitation,” “electrical,” “boiler room,” and just before the hangar… Agent Oleander’s Mechanical Workshop.

Augustus stopped to pout at the door. “Is this where he built that awful tank we encountered?”

“No, that’s where he built his robot suit,” Raz said. “And probably his space laser. He built the tank at Thorny Towers.”

“Oh my.”

“It’s cool. He’s a Psychonaut. He doesn’t mean any harm.”

“If you say so,” Augustus said, but still sounded skeptical. The conversation with the Psilirium helmet must have lingered on his mind. Raz wished there was time to investigate, but after talking to Sasha in the Coliseum and dashing all over the place hunting for the elusive Lili Zanotto, he was cutting take-off time a little close and didn’t want to be late for work twice in one day.

Raz adjusted his tightly-packed crossbody bag and kept walking. “The hangar door is this way. You guys can make it back to the surface from there.”

The rest of the Junior Agents were assembled in the breezeway near the levitubes with Compton, Cassie, and Oleander. Before them, their chariot was taxiing into place. Raz stared up in awe. He’d never actually SEEN the Spoonbill in person, but he’d read about it in the comics dozens of times. It was a fat-bellied, squarish-shaped carrier twice as tall as it was long. The top floor was a command center for Psychic investigators and the massive cargo bay in the belly was twenty-feet tall. The cockpit jutted out of the front near the top like a beak… or maybe more like a polyp… and the stubby wings on either side were fitted with round Psitanium booster pods to give it vertical thrust and help keep it airborne. It looked about as much like a spoonbill as the Pelican looked like a pelican, but that didn’t stop it from being impressive. Its tow vehicle parked it on the landing pad below the skylight exit and a shower of sparkling sunlight glinted off the high windows that ringed the upper deck like a silver crown.

“This is what you’re traveling in?” Augustus asked.

Raz nodded. “Great, isn’t it?”

“Aquato!” Coach Oleander crowed. He ambled away from the pack and elbowed Augustus in the leg. “See? Told you she was impressive! I’m gonna put the laser gun right on the front there under the cockpit. Maybe with one of those gunner stations you see in old war footage. The ones with the swivel chairs? That’d be sweet.”

“It is… something,” Augustus said, insincerely.

The ship emitted an echoing whine and the entire back wall of the craft folded open to form an access ramp.

Compton clapped his hands. “Alright, crew, we’re ready to go! Grab your things and follow us upstairs to the Hub. I’ll brief you from there.”

He and Cassie led the way across the hangar and the Juniors gathered their belongings. Raz faced his family. “I guess this is it.”

“Are you sure you have to go?” Frazie’s lip was pinched between her teeth. “Aren’t there enough Juniors without you?”

“I’m needed to help identify the terrain.”

“And you can’t do that with Psychic powers?” she insisted. “Send your rat friend or something?”

Raz cringed, glanced at Oleander, and lowered his voice. “Ix-nay on the At-ray.”

“I’d just feel a lot better if we were talking to Mom together,” she said. “Technically we’re both still grounded. Maybe that’s how you could stay?”

“He’s gonna save the world, Fraz,” Sam interrupted them. She was dragging her massive army-style body-bag looking luggage by the strap and hadn’t gotten very far. “You want the world saved, right?”

She pouted. “I mean yeah…”

“Then we gotta find the Hornblower!”

“Hornblower?” Augustus’s brow arched. “Isn’t that the man who is causing all these disasters? THAT’S who you’re going to find?”

Raz grimaced. “Well, yes… but not like, directly.”

“I don’t know if I’m comfortable with you approaching such a character!” Augustus said. “That is not a small un-dangerous mission! You could be seriously hurt!”

“Heck yeah he could,” Norma teased. “Put through a wall. Right Pooter?”

Raz glared and she grinned, but not in a teasing way. Almost as if they were sharing a secret. Did she consider the two of them watching Sasha’s first Weaponkinesis fight together a bonding experience or something? He must have looked confused because her smile broadened further. Then she spotted Frazie behind him and her mouth drew tight. She levitated her suitcase and hurried past Sam to catch up with Adam, Morris, and Gisu without saying another word.

Raz raised his eyebrows to Frazie. “That was interesting. A crisis of conscience?”

Frazie snorted. “An act of desperation.”

“Hey, uh…” Lizzie interrupted. She’d tarried behind the group and approached the two siblings with her bag strap twisted in her hands. “Sorry.”

Frazie crossed her arms. “About?”

“You know what about.”

“If you can’t say it, it’s not an apology.”

“Oh my god.” Lizzie rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry for jumping you and making you go invisible.”

“That’s good enough, I guess,” Frazie said. “I’m still mad at you though.”

“Come on, It wasn’t that big a deal.”

“Wow! And just like that, the apology’s useless,” Frazie said. “I swear, I can’t believe I trusted you guys. It didn’t occur to you that maybe I was keeping it a secret on purpose?”

“We were just trying to make sure – ”

“What kills me most is that if I WAS going to tell someone, it probably would have been you two because you two were cool,” Frazie said. “But then you had to go and ruin it by being jerks. You’re as bad as Gisu duping Dion into falling in love with her. In fact, the whole lot of you are selfish bullies who think they’re better than everyone else.”

Lizzie pouted. “I don’t think that.”

“Yeah, well, don’t blame me for not believing you,” Frazie grunted. “In the end you got what you wanted. Everybody knows I’m a Psychic, now, so I’m not gonna go back to pretending I’m not. And I might stick around and learn stuff here, but don’t count on me joining the intern program, and don’t expect me to spend any time hanging around you. Or Norma. Especially Norma.”

Lizzie sucked her teeth. “She’s sorry, too, by the way.”

“Really? I don’t see her.”

“She’ll make it up to you,” Lizzie said. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Don’t bother, I don’t care what she does,” Frazie said, but Raz recognized the sing-song tone that covered her hurt. “I hope you both get your minds bombed out of your bodies so you can turn around in midair and take a good look at yourselves.”

Lizzie groaned, but let Frazie have the last word and left to join her companions on the plane. Frazie exhaled a long, deflating sigh.

“Well done!” Her father beamed. “You stood up for yourself brilliantly.”

“Thanks dad.” She slouched. “I just wish I didn’t feel like crap.”

“Ah, you’ll get over it,” Oleander said. “We Psychics are brothers in arms. Interpersonal conflict among soldiers is detrimental to the force. Liking each other isn’t required, but loyalty and teamwork is.”

“Big talk from you, all things considered,” Augustus said. “Did you face ANY discipline for last month?”

“All my projects got canceled!” Oleander said, offended. “I had a robot suit that would have done gangbusters against Maligula but all that got yanked pending executive approval.”

Augustus’s nostrils flared. “What a shame.”

“You’re not kidding! I’ve only got my Aerial Surveillance Specialist because I worked on it without telling anyone.” The coach’s bow shot up. “Oh! Right. Forgot my bird, again.”

He bustled off to his shop, passing the levitubes just as Lili descended from the floor above. Raz brightened. “You came!”

“Of course I came, duh! You may not be back before I leave for home. I gotta say goodbye, don’t I?” She pulled him into a hug and launched a rushed telepathic conversation. “My plan is all set. If I’m gone by the time you get back, it won’t be for long.”

“Are you going to tell me what this plan is or…?”

“The less you know the better. Then you can’t snitch if I get caught.”

“I wouldn’t snitch!”

“Hello there, Lili,” Augustus said in proper ‘dad of your boyfriend’ voice. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Hi, Mr. Aquato.” Lili smiled unnaturally. “Just wishing Raz luck on his Psychonauts mission.”

“That’s good of you,” he said, still cautious. “And for a final time, are you SURE this is safe?”

“It’s a research mission, Mr. Aquato,” Lili said. “They’re taking a bunch of readings from the air. They probably won’t even land let alone get in fights. The Spoonbill doesn’t have guns or anything on it.”

“Oh, I see,” Augustus said. “If that’s the case…”

“Not that Raz would have to worry. He’s a total wizz.” Lili winked at him. “The best the agency has!”

Raz blushed. Augustus regarded the two of them and thumbed at his beard. “You know, Lili, if you ever wanted to come by our camp sometime for a meal or a visit you’re always welcome to do so. Perhaps we can put on a private show for you. You’ll have a front row seat.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Lili said. “But I gotta get back to packing right now. Mom wants me home by the end of the day.”

“Oh I see. That’s too bad,” Augustus said. “The invitation remains open if you should change your mind.”

“Hello there, Little Man.” Agent 33 interrupted. “Brought the whole family didja?”

The blonde landed in the levitube behind them, followed by Zheng Wei who struggled to hold his daughter in one arm and the wavering tail of a lavender thought bubble in the other. A pair of duffel bags dropped through the tube after him.

Raz glanced between them. “You're coming, too?”

“It’s a training mission, correct?” Thirty-three crossed her arms. “I’m training my personal assistant. That okay with you?”

“I mean, I guess?” Raz said. “You’re not bringing the five year old, are you?”

“Absolutely not,” Agent 33 answered. “I’ve got enough problems. She can stay in the daycare with the rest of the toddlers.”

“Daycare?” Raz asked. “We’ll be gone thirty-six hours!”

“Overnight care, then.”

“She’s a kid not a pet,” Lili snapped.

Agent 33 rolled her eyes and spoke to Zheng in Chinese. Zheng spoke back in desperate tones, but she dismissed him just as quickly and marched to the plane.

Ling tugged her father’s collar. He leaned in, heard her whispers, then fixed Frazie with a pleading look. “You? Baby…sit?”

She blinked. “Me?”

Zheng indicated his daughter with a jerking motion of his head. “Please?”

“Um… I guess I can?” Frazie turned to Augustus. “Is that okay? We’d have to take her home with us.”

“She’s already friends with Mirtala,” Raz offered.

“Any friend of my children is a friend of mine,” he said. “If that’s okay with her father, of course.”

Ling translated, bouncing with excitement. Zheng nodded and struggled through more English. “Thank you very much, sir.”

“Yay!” Ling cheered and held Mirtala’s crown to her head as she climbed her father like a ladder to reach the floor.

“We better get going,” Raz said. “I’ll let you guys know when I get back.”

“Alright, good luck,” Augustus said.

“Yeah.” Lili winked again. “See you soon.”

Zheng followed Raz up the gangplank and into the Spoonbill’s cargo bay. The open space was bare-bones and industrial with exposed beams and pipes. Raz believed what Oleander said about it transporting a tank, one could fit with room to spare assuming it was all they were transporting. Housings on the wall provided places to secure smaller vehicles, or cargo containers. The only thing stored for the trainee flight was a crate of provisions draped with a tarp. A metal staircase was built into the wall toward the bow, allowing access to the Hub through a hatch in the ceiling. Below it was the door to the engine room, and beside that was the on-board criminal containment cell.

Raz watched it as he made his ascent up the staircase. There wasn’t a Psilirium security system installed like the one in the Mongolian prison, but the wide plexiglass observation window provided a clear view of three Brain-Box style dampening helmets hanging from the ceiling. Below it, the exposed metal wall was fixed with straps and shackles to bind villains and keep them secure. Raz tried to imagine Hornblower trapped in the cell. If things went really well, their team could return from the Arctic with him trussed up and like a Christmas ham. Either really well or really poorly. Raz wished Sasha and MIlla were coming with them.

He and Zheng clomped to the top of the staircase and through the porthole hatch to the command center colloquially known as the Hub. The mobile survey station filled the top floor from wall to wall with a central holographic display like the Nerve Center conference table and stations for twenty field agents set in a ring around the perimeter. Each station was specially equipped to monitor one of a broad range of inputs. RADAR, ultraviolet, mind waves, radio and a dozen more Raz could only guess at the purpose of. In spite of all the fancy equipment, the dominating feature of the room was a man standing in front of the cockpit’s open door. He dwarfed the opening in both height and width, dressed in a Psychonauts-branded jumpsuit with thick muscular arms, and a round belly like a barrel.

Compton spotted Raz and clapped his hands again. “Attention here please, everyone. I’d like you to meet Agent Demarrow, he will be our pilot for this mission.”

“Heya, kids!” Demarrow raised a hand and greeted them with a Jersey-ish accent. “Don’t ch’all worry. I’ll be takin’ good care of you.”

Gisu cocked her head. “I thought Agent Demarrow is the hangar chief. Why’s he coming with us?”

“B’cause you all are precious cargo, little lady!” Demarrow said. “The most important passengers need the best pilot, and around here that’s me.”

“It was Agent Vodello’s suggestion,” Cassie said.

Sam snorted. “Figures Milla would send us with the biggest nanny in the universe.”

Compton ignored her. “Thank you, Mr. Demarrow. Please get us ready to take off.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

The massive man squeezed into the cockpit and closed the door behind him. Cassie drew the crew’s attention to a matching door in the opposite wall. “Store your things in the bunkroom and come back in for your assignments. Bunks are first come first serve so no time to be picky.”

The bunkroom matched the Hub in square footage with two dozen wall-mounted bunkbeds instead of windows. Raz let the rest of the Juniors in first to stake claims and approached Cassie, instead. “I’m glad you decided to come. I know you don’t like Psychonaut work, but it’s always good to see you.”

“A field agent has to have a partner.” Cassie patted their mission leader on the top of his bowler hat. “Besides, someone has to look after you wily teens.”

“Ms. O’pia!” Zheng dropped his and Thirty-three’s duffel bags and rushed to Cassie’s side. She greeted him with equal enthusiasm and the two started speaking their native tongue with broad smiles.

“Zheng!” Agent 33 poked her head out of the bunkroom. ”You are MY assistant? The bags! Gǎnkuài!”

Zheng ducked his head and grabbed his burdens, muttering apologies to Cassie until he was out of the room.

She pressed her lips. “That woman isn’t taking advantage of him is she?”

Raz shrugged. “You tell me.”

“You know, communication is essential for human health and wellness. Almost as vital as breathing,” Cassie said. “Isolating someone from others through lack of communication can be a form of kidnapping.”

“He said he’s learning English,” Raz said, hopeful.

“That’s not a fix on its own,” Cassie replied. “I know a variety of languages – words are a passion of mine, you know – but language is more than understanding sounds and their meanings. Languages embody culture and history. One word in one language could require dozens in another to say the same thing and translating a thought from one language to another can change it in a hundred subtle ways. You can't absorb thousands of years of evolution and nuance in a day’s worth of lessons. Zheng can learn enough English in a week to get by at the Motherlobe, but without someone to CONVERSE with, well… that can make a man desperate.”

Raz thought about Mr. Webb and how the two fused at the hip the minute Zheng heard him speak. As far as friends went, Thirty-three was the more trustworthy of the two, but she was also kind of mean to him. Raz swallowed a knot. “Can’t he get a translator or something?”

“He most certainly can,” Compton replied. “I know the Psychonauts are primarily an English-speaking organization to you, but we are an international company with outposts and laboratories all over the world! And in light of Cassie’s statement just now I’ll note that we have a robust translation department where all important documents and testimonies are checked and double-checked for accuracy. If Mr. Zheng would like a personal Chinese-English translator we have many on staff to fill that request.”

“So why doesn’t he?”

“If I don’t miss my guess, it’s because Mr. Zheng is Agent 33’s personal assistant,” Compton said. “It is her responsibility to make sure he’s taken care of. If he’s made such a request it was likely through her.”

“And she ignored it?”

“I didn’t say that,” Compton said. “She’s an Omnilingualist. She could easily function as both instructor and interpreter, which I’ll assume she is currently doing.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s doing a good job,” Raz pouted. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Just be a good friend,” Cassie said. “We’ll watch them on this voyage. If something feels ‘off’ I’ll complain personally to young Truman as soon as we land.”

Compton looked nervous. “You will?”

She scoffed. “I’M not employed here. She’s not MY associate.”

“Welp, I’ve arrived!” Oleander declared. He posed like a park ranger with one boot on the open hatch lid and his hooded falcon held nobly on his wrist. Everyone but Raz and the grown-ups were still in the bunks. Oleander’s mustache twitched. “Don’t everyone cheer at once.”

“And I believe that is all of us.” Compton said. He took a seat at the command-station built into the bow-end of the holographic console and pressed a glowing red button. “Agent Demarrow, we’re ready for takeoff.”

The pilot responded with a radio crackle. “Aye aye, Agent Boole!”

Raz braced himself as the Spoonbill shuddered to life. The Psitanium drives spun up on either side of the Hub, casting a bright purple glow through the lateral windows. The ship bobbed a moment and ascended straight up. Raz rushed to one of the stations and peered out through the window, hoping for a final glimpse of Lili and his family, but all he saw was the stone wall as the ship completed its journey through the cavern and exited into the blue sky with its nose toward the Arctic.

Chapter Text

“Team, please report to the Hub.” Compton’s voice projected, meek yet commanding through the overhead speaker in the bunkroom.

The Junior Psychonauts stuffed their overnight bags into their chosen beds and filed back through the only door to join their supervisors. The Spoonbill sailed above the north-American terrain. Raz watched out the window, torn between where they were going and what he was leaving behind. He wished he could be both away and at home. Monitoring Team A and Team B together. At the Motherlobe AND at the Aquadome. Every place all at once. How was Frazie getting on with their mother? Was Lili already at the airport? With her shipped back east, no one was doing any Maligula Blocker research, either. What would they present to Hollis when she got back from Australia? Raz juggled the thoughts as best he could but it was hard to keep them all aloft. He took a deep breath and shoved everything but the current mission into the circus of his mind. Maybe his subconscious would have better luck.

“Alright, Junior Agents, listen closely,” Compton said. He, Cassie, Oleander, Thirty-three, and Zheng Wei were assembled in a line at the head of the holographic console. Raz and his peers obeyed with varying degrees of interest. Their mission leader held one of the tabbed folders from his research station up like a sign. “We have four hours to get to the Brooks Range. That gives you all plenty of time to familiarize yourselves with your monitoring stations. I have assigned each of you to one of the interfaces according to your specific interests and skills. It should make using the equipment there easier.”

He handed the folder to Cassie who used Levitation to distribute the assignments. If Bob’s productive love-language was clipboards and Otto’s was resealable envelopes, Compton’s was index cards. Each agent received a 3x5 scrap of lined cardstock with the name of their station and a bullet list of action items. Raz’s said “Topography” with two bullets. “Narrow down target location” and “Confirm results.”

“Air Traffic?” Norma asked with a scoff. “Really? Isn’t that what the pilot is for?”

“It is what commercial towers are for, but we won’t be interfacing with civilian networks on this trip,” Compton explained. “This plane was designed to help manage battlefield tactics. The pilot is responsible for flying. You will be required to keep track of civilian airpaths but also to detect and identify any suspicious movements that could belong to our perpetrator. It’s a very important job. Meanwhile, your sister will keep track of the weather.”

“Yay. Weather.” Lizzie lilted.

Compton shook his head. “The rest of you will all find your stations marked. Ms. O’pia and my fellow agents will be around to show you how they are used. I encourage you to explore the functionality so that we can all work together to survey our target area when we get there. If you have any questions please ask. I’ll be here at command.”

Adam saluted. “Yes, sir, Mr. Grand Head!”

Compton’s mustache twitched as the Junior Agents distributed themselves throughout the cabin. The stations all looked similar with floaty swivel chairs, wall-mounted desks and banks of CRT screens with flashing buttons. Lizzie’s station had a weather RADAR display. Norma’s had a ticker tape machine ribboning out coordinates on an endless string of white paper. Sam was monitoring something with a spinning bar. Adam was marking distances with a compass. Morris’s station had headphones and a microphone. Raz settled into the Topography station between Sam and Gisu. The skateboarder lounged in her chair, but at least she wasn’t complaining. Hopefully the tech aspect of the mission would make her pleasant to sit by. She’d been a real wet blanket after not breaking up with her not boyfriend.

Raz poked the machines in front of him. It was like the older, squarer brother of the Pelican’s survey station. A bulky, clacky keyboard was built into the tabletop. Above it, one screen displayed up-to-date information about the Spoonbill’s altitude, and another mapped the geological features of the land in colored rings. A third screen displayed a global map with a tiny brain pinpointing the Spoonbill’s longitude and latitude. A copy of the same map was visible on the room’s central hologram, along with copies of his fellow agents’ readouts and screens. On the desk in front of Raz was a bulky Otto-matic branded headband connected to the Topography station by two thick coils of yellow cable like a wig with costume Goldilocks hair. Raz hefted the weighted headgear. The inside was lined with odd-shaped protrusions and circuitry. He slipped the rig past his goggles and tightened it around his crown.

An orange sheen veiled his eyes. Raz blinked it away and was suddenly staring at the ground diredly below the ship. He jumped and turned his head and the view moved around with him. Above, the stomach of the Spoonbill stretched like a roof. His mind tingled. The headband had activated his Psychic powers without his say-so and was using Clairvoyance to tap his mind into a camera mounted between the wheels of the landing gear.

Cassie’s voice spoke in his ear. “Settling in?”

“Ahh!” Raz ripped the headband off. It left a weird fuzziness in his head. “You scared me.”

“I see you’ve discovered the psionic interface,” Cassie said. “Pretty impressive, huh?”

Raz reoriented himself to the Hub. The supervisors were making their rounds. Thirty-three and Zheng consulted with the Natividads and Oleander was with Sam. Adam and Morris seemed to be doing well on their own. Morris’s headphones were attached with a yellow cord just like Raz’s headband. So was Adam’s visor which wrapped all the way around his head the same way Sasha’s lab goggles did. Raz wondered if that was all that was similar.

Cassie drew Raz’s attention back to his own station. “Any questions about how it works?”

“A lot, actually.” Raz said. “What’s a pisonic interface?”

“It’s a bit of Psychic resonance tech. Otto developed it. The interface works with your brain, allowing you to access the ship’s functions with your mind.”

“I see.” He put the headset back on the desk. “Am I in charge of our altitude or the ground or…”

“Our physical surroundings. And what’s coming up.”

“Wish that was on my card.” Raz searched the station again. A shelf full of three-ring binders was tucked under the desk with the names of the seven continents printed on the spines. “I’m not navigator, am I? I don’t know how to chart or plot or whatever planes do.”

“Boolie’s taken care of that, but if we were on a real mission you would be.”

“This is a real mission!”

“Well yes, but… you know. With real agents.”

Raz pouted but she continued.

“You’re all at stations tailored to your particular skills. Your friend Samantha here is monitoring the long-range scanners. If we were in combat, she’d be warning us of fleet and battalion positions. Mr. Gette is in charge of short range activity and would be keeping track of our own troop movements while taking stock of casualties, resupplying positions, and all that. Mr. Martinez is at Coms. He would be communicating with the ground and with home base. Miss Neruman is at the Maintenance station and is monitoring the Spoonbill’s performance. There are also shield and cloak stations. Telekinesis enhancers. All sorts of things. It’s all very intricate.”

“Have we ever actually been to war with anyone?” Raz asked.

“You mean other than Grulovia?”

“I guess that was technically a war, but what you’re talking about sounds more like an actual wargames. Like armies vs. armies. The Psychonauts are supposed to be peacekeepers.”

“I mean they are that, but you know… they’re also for hire,” Cassie said. “Psychics have only been used at wartime for the last fifty-ish years. Not every country in the world has their own defense against Psychic attacks, so the Psychonauts make themselves available for those who may need a little boost. They don’t fight wars for anyone, but they’ll assist in defense as long as they are allowed to stay noncombatant. It’s part of the Articles of Organization.”

“That seems kind of… ethically blurry?”

“Business is done in the grays,” Cassie said. “If it helps, they also have Psychic lawyers at work around the world advocating for Psychics as ‘people not weapons.’ They’ve gotten quite a few uses of Psychics labeled as war crimes, so that’s good.”

“I guess?”

“As for the Spoonbill, I was actually still an agent when it was commissioned,” Cassie said. “Each of us had our own special station. I, with my excellent multitasking skills, worked at the short-range scanning station and Boolie worked at the long range, which is why we have the perch.”

Raz frowned. “The perch?”

As he spoke, Oleander threw the cover off of a wall-mounted seat attached to a rail five feet in the air. The front was criss-crossed with straps like the harness of a parachute. The coach popped Sam in, buckled the five fastens to secure her, and punched a wall button. The window beside the rail snapped open, forcing a blast of cold air to swirl through the Hub. Papers burst from desktops. The Juniors all yelped. Oleander threw a switch and the seat slid down the rail and rotated outward. The window panel re-sealed, leaving Sam dangling like a barnacle on the side of the hull.

Raz jumped from his seat. “What the heck!?”

Cassie chuckled. “Oh calm down, it’s supposed to do that.”

Oleander reopened the window and tossed Tonka into the sky. She flapped quickly to stabilize herself, then soared past the wing and toward the horizon.

“Samantha and her grandfather both talk to animals,” Cassie reminded him. “The long-range station has a thought-projector that lets her communicate with her animal field agents at a distance.”

“So the animals ARE the long-range scanners?”

“I mean there’s a RADAR in there, too, but it was Compton’s station so Otto had animals in mind when he designed it,” Cassie said. “Typically each station is given to a Psychic with a corresponding specialty. That empty station over in the corner is for shields, for instance, and a Psi-shield specialist would typically man it because they could bolster the ship’s onboard psionic capabilities with their own.”

Raz recalled the Pelican flying into the Himalayas and the moment when Sasha used his own Telekinetic hand to crank the plane out of a nosedive. He must have been tapping into the ship’s psionic abilities, just like Cassie was describing. “Does the shield station need a Psi-Shield specialist or can anyone do that?”

“The plane has a certain amount of autonomous functionality for Non-Psychic users, but all of the Psychonaut tech is meant to work WITH the agents. No, they don’t require an official Specialty to work it, anyone who can Psi-shield would do, but a specialist would get the most benefit from the enhancement. You don’t have to take my word for all of this... I assume since you are stationed at Topography that you know Geokinesis. Get that headset back on and try it out for yourself.”

“I don’t know Geokinesis,” Raz said. “I know Pyrokinesis.”

“That might help if there was a forest fire,” Cassie chuckled. “Do you know Sonokinesis? That would help with the RADAR module.”

“Nope, not that one, either.”

“Huh.” Cassie tapped her chin. “I’m not sure why Boolie put you here, then.”

“The maps, that’s why.” Compton hopped over. “Here Razputin. I’ve collected some coordinates and printouts I would like you to look at. Let me know if any trigger that trauma response that you reported and we’ll give those locations to Agent Demarrow in the cockpit to narrow our search. The more quickly we find the New Thinkers’ hideout, the sooner we can make a plan of attack.”

“Uh… okay.” Raz received a shoebox full of photo printouts. He was excited to be needed, but wasn’t sure about being defined by his recent trauma. He was starting to understand how Milla felt. “I couldn’t have done this from home with Otto’s satellite camera?”

“There’s no guarantee the quality of the satellite photos would be clear enough for your confirmation,” Compton said. “Plus seeing it in person will allow us to pinpoint more exactly. It’s really very important.”

“I’ll do my best, then.”

“You can also use the hologram projector on your station to pull up topographical information if you need a different view,” Compton said. “Our satellite system has scanned most of the planet, but we can zoom in on places if the triangulation is right.”

“We have a satellite system?” Raz asked, excited. “Do we have a rocket too?”

“We don’t have an aerospace department at headquarters, but we have access to several international space programs – ”

“Oh my god,” Raz cried. “Can I go to space?”

Compton bit his lip. “Theoretically? I suppose? We mostly send technicians…”

“I want to go to space!” Raz squeaked. “Do Psychic powers work the same in space? Can you move around with Levitation if there’s no gravity? What about space suits? Would a Psi-Blast break your helmet? Have Sasha and Milla been to space before?”

“Enough about space,” Compton said. “Your station is about earth. Look at the earth.”

“Okay, okay,” Raz groaned and set down to work.

It took over an hour to flip through the huge stack of pictures. An endless parade of mountain ranges and coniferous forests blurred through Raz’s head. He pulled out his library copy of “A Thought of Revenge” to compare it, but nothing twanged his brain chemicals. Perhaps anticipating it prevented it from surprising him. He sorted the photos into “yes” and “no” piles and checked the coordinates in his books of maps. Most of the “yes” pile was on the Canada side of the range, so he wrote a quick summary and handed it in. It was gratifying to watch their projected flightpath adjust accordingly, but he was still bitter he couldn't narrow it down to one destination. The sooner they found Hornblower, the more likely they’d be home in time for Sasha’s exam. The plane was still only halfway to the Arctic circle. Compared to riding in the Pelican, the flight felt like an eternity.

Raz sighed, pulled out a notebook and attempted to compose his and Lili’s research into a final report. They’d only made it through half of the TPT issues, and the ones they HAD reviewed were already reported on. The only copies he brought with him were “The Deluge of Grulovia,” “A Thought of Revenge,” and “Attack of the Mountainous Mind.” Nothing new to be found in those.

The other Junior Agents were fully engaged. Morris was thriving at the radio station. Lizzie was monitoring atmospheric temperature. Adam was projecting Clairvoyance. Even Gisu was getting into her job. Raz watched her flip through schematics and readouts, skimming the intricate drawings at a glance and typing away at her desk-mounted keyboard. Her eyes were glazed green with her signature psionic power. Raz had seen the end result of her skills – hacks, fixes, repurposings – but never actually watched her do it. It was different from Sasha doing maintenance on his equipment or even Otto making gadgets to help him process and concentrate. Gisu had some kind of trance going on.

Raz put down his notebook. “What are you working on over there?”

She blinked her eyelids separately. “Just noodling.”

“Noodling on the ship? While we’re in it?”

“Don’t have a cow, Raz, we’re not going to drop out of the sky.”

“But that IS what you’re doing,” Raz insisted. “You’re reprogramming the ship.”

“The techno-psionics on board are old as dirt,” Gisu said. “It’s tuned as good as it can get by standard practice, but it wants to do more. I’m just giving it a new way to think about things.”

“Want? Think?” Raz asked. “Are you… talking to it?”

“I mean no? Machines aren’t alive, but I can kind of intuit them, I guess. I can tell when they aren’t working at their best.” Gisu punched the enter button on her keyboard and the green glaze cleared. “See? Now it’s happier.”

“Whoa!” Adam pulled off his goggles. “What the heck was that?”

“Sorry!” Gisu called. “Just making you more efficient!”

“And giving me whiplash!” Adam yelled to her. “I was maxed at 100 meters then BAM! Double the input. My brain is plugged into this thing, you know! I was NOT prepared.”

“Neruman!” Agent 33 snapped. “Stop it!”

Gisu threw her hands up. “What? No ‘Thank you Gisu for your hard work?’ Just stop?”

“No! Yes.” Compton gave Agent 33 a critical glance and nodded to Gisu. “Are you sensing anything malfunctioning in the ship, Agent Neruman?”

She swung in her seat. “Nope, everything’s good.”

“Then I thank you for going above and beyond at your station and using your time so efficiently,” Compton said. “Please keep up the good work.”

Gisu’s face went blank. She sat up straighter and tossed her curl. “Thank you, Agent Boole, I think I will.”

“Wait! I’m getting something!” Sam, seated again inside the ship, leaned over her console. “There’s a blip.”

“A blip?” Compton asked.

“Northeast! Fifteen degrees!”

Raz tugged his headband back on and trained the attached camera in the designated direction. Gisu’s adjustments allowed him to zoom in way farther than he had the last time. A tingle prickled a line down the center of his scalp, raising the hair on the back of his neck as his eyes focused like binoculars. A spot was flying toward them. A plane. “It’s a private jet!”

“I don’t see a private aircraft cleared to fly here on my readouts,” Norma said. “What’s its registration?”

Raz pushed a little more mental energy into the equipment, earning yards more range and the start of a headache. He narrowed his eyes on the fuselage of the passing plane. There was a number on the tail, but it was too far to read. A dark speck banked toward it flapping its wings. Tonka.

“I have a visual!” Sam announced. “The number on the back is N5058C!”

“I’ve confirmed that on my camera!” Oleander said. “N5058C!”

“N5058C!” Norma repeated a third time, then seconds later. “Got it! Private listing. Belongs to a Ulysses Rockford.”

“What?” Agent 33 cried. “Repeat that?”

“Ulysses Rockford. New York City, New York.” Norma said

“You mean the US Senator?” Oleander asked. “What is he doing up here?”

“HE is likely not,” Compton said. “His daughter Brigide, though, is one of our targets. Gisu, the cloak please? Immediately.”

“On it!” Gisu hopped from her seat and crossed the Hub to the shield station. She put on an egg-shaped helmet and a green shimmer momentarily clouded Raz’s view through the belly camera. Her natural Invisibility encompassed the whole ship.

“Agent Demarrow! Intercept course!” Compton said. “Do not engage!”

“Aye, Cap’n!” The radio barked.

The Spoonbill’s wing boosters spun faster and the ship banked to the right. Raz kept his camera trained on the plane. It was flying steadily straight ahead with no alteration in course. Sam must have detected it before it noticed them. The miles between them vanished as the two sailed toward each other at cruising speed. Raz could make out a blue stripe and stylized eagle printed on the side. A line of portholes reflected sunlight in harsh bursts, but he could see shadows of people moving inside. Was that Brigide Rockford? Or her father? Raz pushed his energy a tiny bit more. The planes were 1500 kilometers apart and closing. They’d be on top of each other in fifteen minutes. It felt like forever.

“I’m getting weird signals,” Morris announced. “They’re receiving some kind of ratio input, but it’s encrypted or something. I can’t record it.”

“Miss Natividad! What’s the windspeed and direction?” Compton asked.

“In our favor,” Lizzie reported.

“Miss Neruman? Your status?”

“I can hold cloak as long as you need me to!”

“Alright folks, listen close,” Compton said. “A plane that size can’t hold more than half a dozen passengers. It’s very likely our target is traveling alone with a flight crew. Her path is taking her back to New York, so likely going home from her safehouse. We need to get ahold of her flight information. When we approach, Agent Demarrow will strafe so that we can take our readings – I will need all hands on deck for that one – then once we know what we’re working with, we will match speed and direction so that Agents 33 and Oleander can open the cargo bay and transfer via tow cable onto the back of the jet. From there, we will disable the engines and, if possible, detach the wings so that we can bring the fuselage on board.”

“We’re going to pull the whole plane into the cargo hold?” Adam cried.

“Excellent!” Lizzie grinned.

“Interception in ten minutes,” Norma announced. “Seven minutes!”

“Below please, Agents!” Compton ordered. “Cassie, take steps to seal the Hub. Distribute oxygen kits just in case.“

“Aye aye, Captain!” Cassie said. “Zheng! Bāng wǒ yīxià!”

Raz kept his headband on and listened to the Hub’s activity. Footsteps on the metal staircase tracked Oleander and Thirty-three’s descent to the first floor. The hatch clanged shut, followed by the sucking of a vacuum seal as the two floors were separated. People moved behind him, but Raz kept his focus. The Rockford plane was approaching so quickly, he had to pull back on the zoom. A silhouette was visible in one of the windows, but was concealed by a pop of Psychic red light. A sick feeling hit his stomach, but there was no time to speak as a sphere of reddish mental energy bloomed from the neck of the jet.

“Ahh!” Morris cried.

“Ahh!” Sam agreed.

Raz opened his mouth and was blasted clear out of his brain.

Chapter Text

Raz’s mind tumbled untethered through the open sky. Below, the Canadian landscape unfolded at thousands of miles per hour, wild and unsettled with nothing but trees and grassland to stop it. Raz was moving, too. The force of the Mind Bomb had ejected him from the plane, but it wasn’t enough to overcome the speed of the Spoonbill. It had slowed him down though, and the plane was getting away from them carrying his body and those of his fellow agents away on the wind. Raz resisted the urge to panic, recalling his lessons from past Mind Bombs. All he had to do was follow his thoughts. He closed his eyes and emitted a Clairvoyant blast, illuminating the loose minds of his fellow agents in a wave of orange and green.

The Juniors hadn’t kept their heads as well as he had. This was their first Mind Bomb ejection, and Raz recognized the mad scramble for connection like he was looking in a mirror. Above them, Compton’s mustard-colored Mental Lasso appeared in a lash. He whipped it toward the Spoonbill, but the increasing distance had drawn his body out of reach. The loop snapped shut miles short of its target and he let the string go. Oleander’s more golden yellow psychic signature caught light a league closer to the retreating plane. He launched his lasso like a harpoon and made it to the cargo hold. The line went taut and he was sucked away in a flash.

“Boolie!” Cassie’s keening voice echoed in Raz’s head as her violet-purple lasso appeared. Instead of targeting the plane, she sent the line straight over Raz’s head and snatched Compton around the waist with its loop. A yank and he was reeled toward her like a human yo-yo. Caught in her arms, they grabbed hold of each other to keep from parting again. It was good to know Astral Projections could hold each other, even if walls and rocks had no effect. The two spiraled past him overhead, propelled by momentum and unaffected by wind resistance. Raz summoned his own Lasso and hurled it up to catch them, but his range was shorter than theirs and stood no chance of reaching. He aimed a second loop at the plane, but it was further away than ever.

A flash of macaroni-orange appeared below him and a tow-hook shaped Lasso sailed toward the ship. Raz traced the line back to Agent Demarrow floating away from him in the opposite direction. Fresh panic hit. He hadn’t thought about the pilot, but Coach knew how to fl. Except before the bomb, Oleander and Thirty-three were in the cargo hold getting ready for decompression. Cassie had sealed the hatch.

Agent 33’s black and silver Mental Lasso whipped like a hair stuck to the sky. It hooked onto something invisible and sent her rocketing downward. Raz frowned and projected Clairvoyance again, this time noticing a ribbon of squirmy white dots in a line behind the Spoonbill. Stray thoughts mapped the path of the plane. Follow your thoughts. He followed Agent 33’s example and prepared another Lasso, the technique coming better and easier with each time he tried.

The orange and green loop tightened around the nearest thought-node, contact reverberating up the string’s length as it anchored tight. The thought belonged to Oleander and was full of not-child-appropriate words. Apparently Raz was right about the hatch being stuck closed, and there was no way to open it from below. Something about security. It was hard to tell through all the profanity.

Unlike regular connection, the Lasso didn’t reel him in. Instead, he became a pendulum, swinging wide and gaining speed with each revolution. Raz drew on his circus experience and released the rope from his mind as just as he came around. The slingshot propelled him after the Spoonbill, past winking nodes of thought and the minds of his fellow agents. He skated feet past Gisu who was flailing in shock. Green sparks popped from her mind as she tried to Levitate without a body. Raz projected at her. “Mental Connection!”

“Raz!?” she squawked. “What!?

“On the stray thoughts! Lock yourselves down!”

“Oh!” Gisu snatched one and zipped in. The thought held her like a little pocket of safety. “OH!”

“Tell the rest!” Raz instructed and hooked another thought to gain speed. It was one was one of his own repeating the mantra Sasha taught him. Where did stray thoughts come from? The brain or the mind? Or both? He’d have to ask Sasha. If they survived.

Across the sky, the other Juniors found and captured their own little life-rafts fo thought. Raz beamed another wave of Clairvoyance, taking stock of their progress. Thirty Three was moving perpendicular to their path. Cassie and Compton had adjusted their direction. Zheng Wei was cartwheeling wildly past half a dozen nodes. If he’d heard Raz’s instructions, he didn’t understand them. Raz focused on Thirty-Three. ”Mr. Zheng!”

“Busy!” She barked back. Her Lasso lashed again, hooking Demarrow like a loose parade balloon and trebucheting him toward the Spoonbill at mach-speed. “Oleander!”

The coach’s Astral Projection popped out of the plane and snatched the incoming pilot on the fly.

Raz couldn’t reach Zheng, and none of the Juniors knew how to Lasso. No one but Sam. He projected at her. “Sam!”

She was 100% unbothered. “Y’ello?”

“Catch Mr. Zheng!” He replied. “Snake with a cowboy hat!”

“You got it, Raz!”

Her raspberry red snake appeared leagues away. Raz mapped her movement node-to-node until she was close enough to whip her Lasso toward him. The snake sank its fangs into Zheng’s backside and held on, halting his movement as Sam settled into a thought. The terrified man screamed without sound as she reeled him bac in.

“Got ‘im!”

“Good hustle!” Raz said. He pulled down his Astrally-Projected goggles and turned attention to the plane. “I’m coming, Coach! Just hold on!”

The plane inched into range. He flashed an impatient burst of Clairvoyance and spotted his limp body through the metal wall. The wrinkled knot of think-meat in his skull glowed like an orange light bulb. Raz readied another Lasso and wound up with his whole arm. The loop sailed through the onto his skull. It hooked around his goggles like the horns of a steer and in a flash he was back at the Topography station with his face pressed against the keyboard and the psionic headband still clamped tight around his aching head.

Nausea bubbled up his throat as all his terror-related neurochemicals released in a flood. There was no time to waste. Raz threw off the interface and leaped from his chair. His fellow agents were slumped mindless over their consoles. Sirens blared as every station flashed and beeped beneath a rotating warning light like a disco of distress. Someone was pounding on the floor. Raz ran to the hatch. “Coach!”

“Raz!”

“How do I open it – ? ”

“No time! Get to Demarrow. Jump in his head!”

“Gotcha!” Raz whipped out his Psi-portal and dashed to the cockpit. Demarrow was slumped over the controls with his meaty forearm wedged between the steering column and the dashboard. Raz climbed on his back and entered his head from the top.

The mind inside was dark like the other Mind Bomb victims. Raz skidded across a slick cement floor crowded with irregularly shaped objects. Protruding handles, dangling chains, and racks of twisted metal cluttered the tiny space with something lumpy and irregular draped in fabric at the center. Raz swallowed a knot and tried not to think of Demarrow as Dr. Frankenstien as he whipped out his Looking Glass and dialed in the coach. “I’m here!”

“Thank god!” Oleander his yellow Lasso through the frame. “Here!”

Raz left the Looking Glass dangling on the yellow chord as he tied it to a sturdy piece of machinery. The tether snapped tight and Demarrow burst through the tiny lens like a soap bubble from a wand. The broad-shouldered man crashed through the equipment, bringing life and color to every bit that he touched. He slammed against the draped object and the whole room was restored. The cloth flopped over Demarrow’s head, revealing the unfinished body of a flame-painted hotrod with chrome pipes and duel blowers built into the hood.

Raz broke a wide grin. “It’s a machine shop!”

“Whoa! What the – ” Demarrow yanked the cloth aside, looking dazed, but recognized his surroundings. “Oh hey, It’s you! Thanks a lot, little guy!”

“You okay?”

“Never better!” He grinned and in a blink they were back in the Spoonbill’s cockpit. Raz hopped off Demarrow’s back and the pilot got straight to work, punching a series of flashing buttons and craning back on the flightstick with all of his might. The Spoonbill’s nose tipped up, but the spiny canopy of a fir-tree forest was still approaching fast.

Raz cringed. “We’re still going down!”

“Psitanium’s off! Takes time to crank up.”

“How much time!?”

“I’ll worry about that!” Demarrow said. “Coach’s got two more passengers! Give him a hand.”

“Two more?” Raz puzzled but did as he was told. He dashed through the hub and knocked on the hatch. “Who next?”

“Cassie!” Oleander said.

She was face-down on the floor near the holographic console. Raz slapped the Psi-door on the back of her head and rolled full-speed into the reception desk of her mindscape-library. The crowd of paper Archetype constructs were missing from the main lobby, and the books and papers were all shrouded in black graphite and dust. He seized the Looking Glass again. “Here!”

“Here!” The coach’s arm produced another Lasso. Raz dragged it out and looped it around the reception desk with a tug. In a flash, Cassie was with him. Her mind sailed up in an arc and landed atop the desk in an explosion of loose papers and index cards.

She patted herself to make sure all her pieces were there. “Oh my!”

“Alright?”

“I think so. Are we still crashing?”

“Maybe?.”

“Eggs,” Cassie said as a curse. “Tell Demarrow to retrace our path so I can collect the children.”

“Yes, ma’am!” He opened his smelling salts and bounced back into the Hub. A horrible raking sound mingled with the sirens and alerts as treetops smacked the belly. Sunlight flashed in bursts through the windows as branches smacked the underside of the stubby wings. The Psitanium drives were still dark. Raz rushed to the cockpit. “We need to go back for others!”

Demarrow’s wide grin was a grimacing. “One thing at a time!”

Ahead of them, the forest lurched in humps over rolling hills. Raz returned to the Hub where Cassie had the hatch open. Oleander burst through. “Finally! Got Boole?”

“I’ll head in now!” Cassie said.

The canopy was climbing past the windows. Raz took in the flashing stations, trying desperately to remember what each of them did. Was there a Levitation station? A Telekinesis station? He spotted Gisu slumped against the Shield station and inspiration struck. He yanked his goggled down over his eyes and wedge the egg-shaped helmet onto his own head. Like the Topography station, the helmet tapped his Psychic powers automatically. Raz projected a Psi-sheild and the technology responded by expanding an orange and green bubble around the entire ship. The scraping sound ceased as the shield swelled against the treetops.

“Good thinkin’, Raz!” Oleander called.

Raz returned a thumbs-up, but could feel the shield thinning with the snap of every branch.

Agent 33 burst from cargo bay with her hair wild and her tie askew. “Why are we still going down?”

“Ask Demarrow!” the coach grunted.

She thrust her head into the cockpit. “Do your job you cad! Do you want us to die?”

“I’m tryin’ my hardest, ma’am!” Demarrow appealed. “The spin’s still warming up!”

“Damnit!” Thirty-three glanced up and went white. “Bluff!”

Oleander frowned. “Bluff?”

She pointed through the windshield. “BLUFF!”

Raz stretched the cord for the shield helmet until he could see through the cockpit door. The Spoonbill had crested a hill, revealing a river cut into the landscape ahead. A straight wall of naked stone loomed on the far bank and the Spoonbill was headed straight for it. Demarrow yanked them into a turn, but the squat plane was slow and its tiny wings weren’t helping.

Thirty-three swore again and dashed straight to the topography station. She tugged the headband over her head and engaged the psionics. Raz felt his shield flicker as she pulled a portion of the plane’s energy reserve. She thrust her hand forward and the forest floor bulged upward, the trees parting like hairs over a scalp. The earth shifted and surged upward to form an earthen ramp. Raz’s shield settled into the curve like a pinball on a rail, dipping it low and zooming upward against the stone bluff.

Raz bit his lip, begging the Spoonbill for help as he poured all his mental energy into the shield. The orange thinned to a whisper as the plane scraped sand and rock on its skyward trajectory. The barrier cracked and shattered with a stab of pain just as the Spoonbill cleared the bluff and sailed straight up into the sky like a rocket.

The warning sirens changed tone. Oleander faced the holographic screen. “Wing power still down! We're gonna stall!”

“Not if I can help it!” Compton cried. He clawed up from the ground and slapped his hand on a touch panel built into the director’s station. The windows tinted yellow as a massive Telekinetic hand appeared on either side of the plane. They cupped the Spoonbill like a baby bird, steering it leftward and releasing it back to the air at a more useful angle. The wing-boosters lit like a pair of purple hurricane lanterns and the sirens snapped off.

“Engine’s up!” Demarrow shouted. “Boosters stabilized. Hover engaged!”

“Oh thank god,” Compton muttered.

Agent 33 leaned over the Topography station. “I see the Rockford jet! It crashed fifty miles off!”

“Nevermind that for now!” Compton said. “Demarrow, take us back the way we came!”

“But the wreck!” Thirty-three demanded. “There could be survivors – !”

“Ipsi cusdotiat!” Compton replied.

She glared. “What?”

“Tenant five!” Oleander explained. “Cover your ass!”

Compton’s brow furrowed. “Protect our own.”

Cassie crossed to her old station at Short-Range scanners and put on Adam’s headset. The ship’s hue shifted to lavender and her body glowed with a matching resonance. An Astral Projection rose from her back like an insect from its carapace, unfolding and opening itself into a line of five paper dolls holding hands. Archetype constructs. Cassie cast her arm forward and the Valkyries took flight through the walls of the ship, each trailing a purple Lasso with them from inside of her head.

Raz abandoned the Shield station and removed the headphones from Morris’s ears. Coms took Telepathy, something he was a natural at, and Raz noticed the difference immediately. Instead of piping energy in to use Topography or Shields, Raz had to pull back to keep his Telepathy powers from overwhelming him. His mind stretched to the horizon, picking up the Junior Psychonauts in their thought-bubbles but also every stray thought and input they’d had along the way. It was like using Otto’s Thought-Tuner times 1000%. Hundreds of voices in a variety of languages all talking at once.

He winced and narrowed his focus onto Cassie’s archetype constructs. Each was still Cassie, but functioned independently as they threaded through the sky on Spoonbill-enhanced strength. It still wasn’t far enough to reach the Juniors on its own, but Raz could hear their thought patterns as the plane came in range. All were still panicking, but less frantic in their little prisons. The first of the Archetypes reached Gisu and looped its Lasso over her head. The thought bubble she was trapped in shared its secret as she was sucked free; Norma’s voice reciting numbers. Raz glanced to Short-Range station and watched the Archetype drag Gisu’s mind into Cassie’s head. It bounced back out with a fresh tether and joined its sisters on the wind.

The second Archetype grabbed Morris who was begging in Spanish. He was pulled from one of his own bubbles that was doing the same thing. Adam was thinking hard about strategy; whether he could bridge his way bubble-to-bubble toward the plane, how long it took loose thoughts to break down, if he could leave some kind of message for his mother in case he fragmented to sparkles. His distress eased as the Archetype neared. Agent 33’s voice to screamed “NO!” as he was removed.

Lizzie was in Oleander’s thought. Norma was in Compton’s. Both thought bubbles repeated the words “Mind Bomb!” in shock as the girls left. Sam was humming pleasantly to herself as she waited for rescue. Zheng Wei was groaning miserably.

”So,” Sam was saying. “How you settling in? Different from China, huh? Have you discovered the ice cream bar? Percs of working at the Motherlobe. They don’t have stuff like that in other locations.”

Zheng Wei’s thoughts trembled as as he repeated something in Chinese. The Cassie construct thought a soothing phrase at him as it hooked him as it approached. Raz knew he’d been rescued when Sam said. “Bye, I guess”

The final Archetype grabbed her out with a “Wee!” The thought bubble was Gisu’s. Her voice whispered “Dion…” before going quiet. Raz pulled a face, but slapped himself on the wrist for it. There was no time to be petty. He reached up to remove the headset but a new voice whispered through the connection. A young man, screaming and sobbing in a half-French sounding tongue.

Raz froze. The voice triggered his trauma response even worse than the comic book had. He was flashed back to the moment in Fanrong when his mind was stretched over ocean and a Pyrokinetic terrorist with the same voice was kicking him in the face.

Raz burst up. “Wait!”

Oleander answered. “What is it?”

“There’s someone else out there!”

“Who?” Agent 33 rushed him almost desperately, the Topography headband still in her hand. “Who is it!?”

“I can’t see…” Raz snatched the headband and slipped it beneath headphones. Both systems charged his senses and he combined their functions to cast Clairvoyance into the void.

The mind of a young man was hurtling toward the plane at jet-liner speed with sparkles trailing from his body like a Psychic shooting star. Raz zoomed the belly-mounted camera in on him, its psionic wiring made him ripple and flash like a mirage but there was no doubt about who it was; the Pryokinetic from Fanrong. Raz reached his mind toward their pilot. The Coms station projected his thoughts at a reverberating volume. “I need a course correction!”

Demarrow’s reply rippled bright orange against Raz’s double-enhanced senses. ”What is it?”

“Another stranded mind!” Raz checked the compass on the holographic console. ”North! Ten degrees!”

“You got it!”

The Spoonbill shifted. Raz focused on the camera again, his mind straining as he zoomed out for a broader perspective on their paths. The Pyro’s mind had been ejected from the Rockford jet when the Mind Bomb went off and was headed down toward the earth at a shallow angle. If it went too deep, he would be lost under the ground. Raz couldn’t let that happen. For one, he was a suspect-slash-witness in the Hornblower thing. For two, he’d been in a mountain before, himself, and that was too terrifying to fathom. Raz drew a deep breath and trampolined an Astral Projection out of his head.

The Spoonbill gave him an additional push, although he wasn’t sure through which input. He flew straight through the cargo hold and into thin air, emerging next to the camera, and giving his mind an odd double-vision effect. Raz spotted the tumbling Pyro and whipped out an orange Lasso. If he timed it right, he could catch him the moment the two crossed paths, but it was going to be tight. Precise. Something panged in his head, but he couldn’t afford to be distracted. He concentrated on his Astral Projection. On the Lasso in his hand. On the Clairvoyance in the camera. On the natural boost from the headphones. On the fabricated boost from the headband. On each individual second. The world started to tilt, the landscape smearing like paint as excess mental energy from the Spoonbill bounced off the walls of Raz’s head. It reverberated through his brain like a church bell, each clang gaining amplitude, rattling his thoughts, shaking his control over his own powers. He drew up and focused to compensate for the strain and the cacophony intensified in response. The Pyro was almost on him. With a deep-throated groan, Raz redirected the Mentalference into a rainbow-tinted Time Blast and fired.

His power radiated across the sky, slowing his heart, slowing the Spoonbill, slowing the Pyro. The loose mind threaded the eye of his needle. Raz yanked and tightened the loop around the Pyro’s neck, yanking the young man through the walls of the Spoonbill and straight into Raz’s mind where time, space, thought, and emotion all crashed in along with him. Awareness returned like a sniper bullet. Pounded like a nail. Fried like an egg. Raz jolted on reflex. Both the headset and headband were yanked from his brain as he toppled backward. The Spoonbill’s psionic enhancements suddenly ended. Raz felt the drop in activity as a stab of hot pain.

He struck the window, then the Coms panel, and passed out before reaching the floor.