Hand clenching around her coffee, Jinx eyed Channing as the doctor stared moodily across the lab. Okay, she had to have misunderstood the woman. Neurotech could allow mind-to-mind coms, but there were no human psionics. A few alien species, like the Xykeree, had forms of extrasensory communication, but psychic abilities in humans were weak to non-existent. She'd come across plenty of papers stating exactly that in her research on delusions and mental health. It was ridiculous to think—

A hundred seemingly unimportant moments from her time with Kaplan streamed through her mind. His team reacting in eerie synchronicity in battle. Kaplan jolting to attention minutes ago, somehow alerted to the fact Channing had bad news. The long, intense looks. The weird buzz...

The blood drained from Jinx's face. Oh, no, no, no—no. She had not been hanging around a bunch of mind readers, her thoughts open to the goddamn public.

Every cell of her body locked up in rejection.

And perversely, that snapped her out of her head spin.

Knee-jerk fear. She'd seen the ugly results of it too often living in the backworlds. Aliens beaten or murdered. Alterants burned alive by religious fanatics because if you dared to mess with "the Creator's design", you were a contaminant—polluted flesh.

She fought down her instinctive horror. The universe was full of unnerving phenomenon and creatures. Hell, Throleans ate their children if they were born deformed. Vok collected the skins of their defeated enemies. A person didn't belong out in the void if she wasn't up for weird and disturbing.

But the idea that someone—frigging Kaplan?—could see into the sick mess of her mind? She shuddered and reconsidered every second she'd spent with him. He'd questioned her for hours on the Fire Witch. He'd known she'd left out details.

But he hadn't known what.

She looked back to Channing, found the doctor still lost in thought.

Maybe the woman was high on lab-brewed chems. Jinx felt her breath come back. Wouldn't be the first time a med-tech self-medicated. "Doc, there's probably another explanation for people avoiding you. Like, I dunno, the fact you scan and prod their personal bits?"

Channing sighed, dragging up a wan smile. "I'm sure you're right. I can see why you were accepted as a candidate. For someone so new to this, you seem very well adjusted. I suppose knowing you're a latent talent helps. Lord, so many people I know would just die for the chance you have."

"They would?" Jinx inhaled then ditched all subtlety. "They want to 'read minds' that badly?" She watched for the doc's reaction to those words. Not even an eyelash bat. Crap. She scrambled to regroup, wondering how to follow on from that line of crazy. "Ah ... do you?"

"Me?" Channing blinked. "Oh, I've never really considered... But imagine the possibilities." Her eyes widened—lit. "The ability to sense and interpret the brain's neurological activity. To be able to experience, first-hand, the extrasensory abilities I'm studying. That would be so illuminating—priceless really from a research standpoint. But of course, there are the drawbacks of enhancement to consider—the psychological, physical, and social complications." She frowned and shook her head. "Ms Koel, if I were a viable candidate like yourself, I wouldn't rush to make the decision to be genetically altered. Please take all the time you need to think things through. Don't get caught up in the excitement."

Alteration. Jinx felt reality shift a few sickening degrees. Humans weren't naturally psychic, but modify a few genes?

The doctor might not be tripping on lab-brewed chems.

Head going light, Jinx drew in a breath. Okay. She'd decide how she felt about this later, after she had more information—and maybe a shot of damn vodka. "How about you run me down on the procedure, doc? You know, give me your take on what's involved. I'd appreciate it."

"Oh, of course." Channing straightened on the couch, lowering her coffee to her lap. "But I can only give you the basics. As you know, the exact process is classified, and my work is more focused on the already altered. Rha Si epigenetics, the high level of mutations in later-generation psi and—Sorry." She winced and waved away the rest of her words. "That's not relevant. Um, the procedure. Well, naturally, the genetic-alteration component comes first—a number of gruelling procedures over a year or more to integrate the alien genes. You can expect terrible headaches, mood swings, vomiting, blackouts, and, potentially, personality changes. But with the improved candidate screening process, deaths are now rare."

Deaths? Jinx stared. "That sounds ... like a regular damn party, doc."

"The awful hangover after one, maybe." Channing sighed. "And only the start of the process, I'm afraid. If integration is successful—and the success rate is only about thirty-four per cent, I believe—then the neurotech will be implanted to help regulate psionic reception and projection. No Rha Si can survive without it. The altered human mind just can't process all that stimuli. Even with the tech, it's all very disorienting and painful initially. You'll have to be isolated to minimise the trauma. And it'll take about a year for the tech to be calibrated and things to settle down. Then training begins. At least five years of it."

And people wanted to put themselves through that? Had Kaplan? Jinx swore inwardly. God. She didn't want to believe any of this.

But there was something odd about Kaplan. And mind reading was definitely the kind of enhancement the military would use and keep quiet—to hell with ethics and the risk to personnel. And there was a risk. Anyone who messed with alien DNA could suffer a weird array of side effects. She personally knew a G-alterant who slipped into a hibernation torpor if his air con was set too low. "Doc, what other possible effects should I know about?" What exactly had Kaplan signed up to?

"Ah, you've heard about the Originals." Channing nodded. "Don't worry. You won't be setting anything on fire or levitating matter. Only those from the Original genetic lines develop forms of psychokinesis. The procedure used during the war was highly experimental, and even the Qua-zi don't know why their genetic material caused those results. They're strictly telepathic, you see. No kinesis. But the procedure's since been refined. You can expect straightforward telepathy, maybe some empathetic enhancement, but no other psionic effects."

Jinx had no words. Those were not the kind of side effects she'd meant. Pyrokinesis? Frigging levitation?

"Oh, I'm sorry. I've unnerved you." Channing reached out a hand apologetically. "Please, don't fret. You'll have plenty of time to weigh up the pros and cons. Candidates are scrupulously counselled over three or more years before any alteration is undertaken. Really, the only decision you need to make soon is whether to have children. You'll be encouraged to do so of course. You latents are quite rare and are needed for first-gen alterations. That's the preferred method for Rha Si creation now. The other method..." She shook her head. "Let's just say later-generation Rha Si, those developed from Original genetics, have had issues with range and sensitivity."

Range and what now? Jinx cursed under her breath. She hadn't even asked the most important question. "Doc, how well would I be able to read minds?" What exactly were these G-alterants capable of?

Channing frowned, pursing her lips. "It's highly individual, I'm afraid. But the innate psionic range of a new Rha Si is usually a little less than a metre. However, once trained, you'll be able to use the amplification tech to increase your reach by a good number of metres—potentially fifteen to thirty for more basic psi sensing. It'll also help tune into individual minds. It's a brilliant piece of technology—alien of course, slightly incomprehensible."

"Right." Thirty metres? Jinx felt her mouth go dry. "The amplifier? That's the implant?"

Channing shook her head and tapped her ear. "The micro headset. Supplements the regulatory neurotech."

Jinx had to fight for her next breath. Kaplan, his cousin, High Councillor Shau, and her blonde henchwoman had all worn the units. How many of the mind-reading SOBs were there? What thoughts had they stolen? And if this was for real, how could Channing look so damn calm? "Doc, be honest. Are you really okay with telepathic alterants reading your thoughts?"

"Pity them, not us, Ms Koel. They have to listen to whatever drivel is broadcast around them."

"And you're okay with that?"

Channing—predictably—blushed then waved the issue aside. "It's fine. Really. There's regular counselling for us non-psi, and the work is so interesting. That makes up for a lot. The only real frustration is not being able to consult with anyone outside the community."

"And if you did?"

Channing's good humour faltered. "Oh, you really should reread your employment contract. Don't skip over that section."

"That bad?" Jinx recalled Shau's threats about treason.

"Oh, I shouldn't worry." Channing gnawed her lip. "I mean, it's not like we can talk out of turn that easily. Remember the one-on-ones when you underwent final vetting? That's when the nondisclosure programming was done. You try to speak to someone who isn't cleared, you get confused and forget what you wanted to say."

Mental programming? To stop someone talking? Jinx's gut dipped. Holy mother of... But if that were true, how was Channing talking like this? Had she assumed anyone working with Kaplan was 'cleared'? Would such mental controls be circumvented that easily? Shit. Would just having this conversation land Channing in legal trouble?

Shau's diamond-hard stare flashed to mind. Then the councillor's drug threat, a therapy to recover memories. Jinx felt herself go pale as that threat took on new meaning. Okay. Maybe Channing's problems weren't a top priority. The good doctor would be fine. She was clearly valuable to these people. Unlike certain other individuals.

Time to make goddamn tracks.

Jinx slipped off the couch and dumped the rest of her coffee into the recyce. "Thanks for the advice, doc, but I should let you get back to work. Any chance you could hook me up with a surface-bound shuttle? Kaplan's busy with this blood analysis stuff, and I don't want to interrupt."

"Oh, of course." Channing rose with a frown. "The senuri did seem rather focused on that DNA match."

Match? Jinx stopped halfway to the door and swung back to Channing. Kaplan had IDed the owner of the blood?

An individual with alien DNA—a G-alterant.

Oh, fu—"Channing, did that DNA belong to a—?" A burst of tinnitus cut Jinx off. What the hell was...? The thought trailed away as she spotted Channing. The doctor stood staring into space, coffee spilling out of her cup.

Every hair on Jinx's body stood upright. "Doc?"

Channing dropped her drink, sending it spattering across the room's shiny tiles. Without even a flinch, she walked out.

Jinx followed, her heart thudding. Another wave of tinnitus stopped her dead in the staffroom's doorway. The air seemed to almost vibrate, making it difficult to breathe. Channing looked oblivious. She simply strode into a side room off the main lab and started up some equipment.

Jinx curled her fingers around the doorjamb, her flesh going cold. The unreasoned fear she'd felt outside her accommodation that afternoon returned. But this was not her imagination. Not a paranoid delusion. Something was seriously wro—

The two other med-techs in the lab slumped simultaneously at their workstations.

"Oh, shit." Jinx didn't hang about to figure out what was going on. She dove for the main exit—just as a fourth med-tech entered from the corridor. An old guy, with a neat beard, blank expression, and a can of—

A blast of debilitating vapour hit her square in the face.