“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Attika. “The drugs you hooked me on caused unspeakable pain.”
“Yes, but I offered you relief.”
Attika turned her eyes away and laughed bitterly.
Linsky looked at Tyana and gave her a playful smile. “Clearly, Attika hasn’t told you about those days. Well, I’m not surprised. It’s probably not a story befitting the image of the revolutionary leader she strives so hard to project. Never mind, I’ll tell you. It all started five years ago. The PRA was still a functioning nation, Grand Guardian Harken had his firm hand at the helm. Things worked well. The trains ran on time and people knew their place in society. Life was good.”
“Life was not good,” growled Attika. “Tyana grew up in the PRA, so you can save your lies for someone else.”
“Then there was a mishap at a secret government facility,” continued Linsky, ignoring Attika’s warning. “An item of great power and significance was stolen by a man whom we all trusted.”
“The Apollo Stone,” said Tyana. “I’ve heard this story.”
Without warning, Linsky struck Tyana’s cheek with the back of his pale hand, nearly knocking her off her feet.
“You know nothing!” he roared. He paused a moment to wipe spittle from his lip before continuing in a calmer tone.
“I’m sure Attika has told you how she and her band of conspirators freed Brandt and his friends from SPD custody. She no doubt spoke of the fugitives’ harrowing escape from the train outside Frederick and the ensuing chase across half a continent. She might have even told you how we captured her in that old warehouse. But I am quite certain she did not tell you how quickly she yielded to us and gave up the names and whereabouts of her insurgent friends. And I’m equally certain she did not tell you what happened to them in the days that followed.”
Linsky locked eyes with Attika and leered at her like a hungry jackal stalking a wounded animal.
“Did you?” he asked quietly.
“I was drugged!” she shouted in response. “You poured your chemicals into me and pulled everything out of my brain!”
“Yes, yes,” said Linsky with a laugh. “Tell yourself that, but we both know you could have done more. You just wanted the headaches to stop. You couldn’t take the pain.”
Without warning, Attika lunged for Linsky’s throat.
“That’s a lie!” she shouted.
Linsky was able to catch one of her wrists as she sprang forward but the second caught him in the larynx. He pulled her hand from his neck and punched her in the jaw with his scale-covered right hand, causing her to tumble against the wall behind her. She tried to renew her attack, but one of the Storm Front officers dashed forward and grabbed her. She struggled but he soon pulled her arms behind her back to restrain her.
“You couldn’t take the pain, Attika!” snarled Linsky. “And after your release from the hospital, you still kept coming to our little meetings. Telling me more and more about the Septemberists - anything you thought might be useful.”
“I had to come to you to get more drugs!” she countered.
“Oh, yes, the drugs, the little pills you loved so much. They made the pain go away at least for a while. Your insatiable need for drugs aside, I found the conversations we had during those visits to be quite touching. You told me many things, Attika. And I confess I invited you to share some of my more cherished thoughts as well. There was a true bond between us.”
“You’re a monster!” she shouted. “A sadistic monster!”
“I was hurt that day you didn’t come,” said Linsky, ignoring Attika’s screams. “We went searching for you. We looked and looked, but you were nowhere to be found. You’d left the Capitol District and fled into the countryside.”
“I went to a doctor who freed me from the constant pain your interrogation drugs inflicted on me,” she said more quietly. “But by the time I got to him I was nearly dead.”
“Yes, yes. I’ve heard the story from one of your associates. Poor Attika was in such pain, he told me, such terrible pain.”
Linsky leaned closer to Attika and grinned. “But the pain was not just from the drugs, was it. The pain you suffered when you arrived at that doctor’s doorstep, or root cellar to be more precise, was caused by the injuries you had sustained when your skull struck ground.”
Attika was now looking down at her feet, slowly turning her head from side to side.
“No, no, no,” she said softly. “It isn’t true.”
“Of course it is, Attika.”
She looked up at Linsky with frightened, pleading eyes. “The surgery made me better. It did. It took away the pain.”
Linsky clucked his tongue several times and said, “You may be free of the migraines, but it wasn’t the surgery that did it. Do you know what I think finally banished them?”
“Don’t say it,” whispered Attika. “Please don’t say it.”
Linsky took no heed of Attika’s quiet entreaties. Instead he turned his gaze to Tyana. Raising an eyebrow, he said, “I think it was the fall from that three-story building that did the trick. The impact must have somehow rewired her neurochemistry.”
“Stop!” shouted Attika as she looked downward once more, her hair falling around her face, hiding her tortured expression. “You’re lying,” she groaned. Then she looked up and said more firmly, “You’re a damned, dirty, liar!”
Linsky shrugged. “At times, yes, but not in this matter. You know it’s true, dear, although I find it remarkable that you actually believe the story you have fabricated to explain your injuries. Is the thought of your failed suicide attempt so disturbing to you? Many others have chosen that path. You’re not alone.”
“Give me a knife,” snarled Attika as rage quickly replaced sorrow. “You’re an inhuman psychopath, Linsky. You want to kill me, but once is not enough. You need to kill me again and again with your prisons, your torture, your pursuit, and your lies. And don’t think for a second that I don’t know why.”
“Oh you do?” asked Linsky, amused. “Please tell me. Tell me why.”
“It’s simple. You want to kill me because you love me.”
Attika’s surprising assertion caused the Storm Front leader to laugh. He gave her a sideways glance and grinned.
“Don’t bother trying to deny it,” said Attika as her voice grew stronger, more confidence. “I knew it the moment I first saw you. I could see it in your eyes. The way you watched me. How you savored my scent. But these thoughts and emotions that you felt for me only confused you. Do you know why?”
“No, Attika. Why?” he asked glibly, though not without betraying a hint of sincere interest in her words.
“They confuse you because you’re an anti-human. You’re incapable of understanding or showing true affection, so you respond in the only way you know, through cruelty. For you, to love is to hate. To hate is to love. Give me a knife, Alexander, and I’ll show you true love. The love you crave but cannot comprehend.”
“No, Attika,” said Tyana. “Don’t…”
Attika shot the younger woman an angry look that immediately silenced her. Then she returned her attention to Linsky.
“If you kill me, I’ll be yours forever, Alexander” she said enticingly. “Isn’t that what you want? To be joined with me in the most sacred way possible, through death by your hand?”
Linsky scoffed, but he was clearly affected by what Attika had said. She had struck a chord somewhere deep in his being that he could not ignore.
“Very well,” he said after a few moments’ thought. Without taking his eyes off her, he held out his hand to one of his Storm Front officers and said, “Your knife please.”
The Stormer complied. Linsky then drew his own blade and walked to the middle of the room. He turned and looked at Attika, a knife in each hand.
“Shall we?”
The Stormer holding Attika’s arms released her. She stepped forward, slipping through Tyana’s warning grasp, and accepted the proffered k
nife. She briefly tested its weight and balance.
“I gave you my own blade,” said Linsky with an exaggerated wave of his hand. “It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”
Attika nodded her head then quickly glided toward Linsky, swinging her blade three times in an attempt to gain a quick victory. But Linsky slid backward with cat-like agility to avoid each slice then spun to his left and delivered a minor cut to Attika’s shoulder, causing her to cry out and twirl away. Attika quickly renewed the fight, swinging her knife high. She spun on the ball of her right foot and drove the other into Linsky’s chest. He stumbled backward several steps, then ducked and spun away as Attika lunged for the kill.
“I’m happy to see you’ve been keeping your skills up, my dear,” said Linsky.
“You never know when you might need to kill a rat,” she replied.
Linsky frowned. “How disappointing. I thought we’d progressed beyond name calling.”
The two surged forward simultaneously, each ducking, leaning, and spinning clear of the other’s blade. Attika landed a blow to Linsky’s jaw with the heel of her left hand then thrust for his abdomen, but he turned her wrist with his free hand and sliced her left arm. Attika quickly pivoted and drew the edge of her blade across Linsky’s thigh. He shouted in surprise and delight then reached for a handful of Attika’s hair but missed the target as she deftly ducked her head then rose up to deliver a high kick to his face, sending him stumbling backward once more.
Linsky quickly recovered his balance and locked eyes with Attika, a smile on his face as he wiped blood from his nose.
“You like this kind of love, eh?” said Attika. “I’ve got plenty more.”
But Linsky did not attack. Instead he lowered his weapon and said, “I would have danced with you all night, dear Attika, but alas, time is short.”
He looked toward the door where a wraithlike figure enveloped in shadows stood. The mysterious shape walked into the room trailing smoke-like wisps of darkness behind it.
“What the hell is that?” whispered Attika in a shaky voice.
The figure stopped in the middle of the room and looked first at Tyana then at Attika, who narrowed her eyes in an attempt to pierce the veil of darkness that surrounded it like a fog. Then she saw something familiar that made her swallow hard.
“It can’t be,” she whispered.
“Oh but it is,” said Linsky with a smile, delighting in the mixture of emotions playing across Attika’s face, first fear and confusion then horrified recognition.
“How can you be here?” she asked.
“I can be anywhere I choose,” said the figure in a voice that seemed to echo from far away.
“Harken,” said Attika. “You son of a bitch. I don’t know how you got here, but you can turn around and go right back to where you came from. Go back to your Sahiradin masters. The PRA is gone. The people are free!”
“How quaint,” replied the former Grand Guardian as a few tendrils of darkness flowed over his face. “Whatever illusions you or the people have about the nature of freedom will soon be dispelled, I promise you. Earth cannot withstand the forces arrayed against it. Not in its current state. I may be able to change that, but it will be much easier without your interference.”
With a scream, Attika dashed forward, her knife gripped tightly in her hand. She swung for Harken but her blade passed through an empty haze. A fraction of a second later, the Grand Guardian reappeared on her right side.
“I have no time for this,” he snapped. “Kill her Linsky!”
Attika lunged for Harken once more but never reached her target. Linsky stepped quickly forward. He gripped her extended arm and lifted it then drove his knife under her sternum at an upward angle. Shocked by the deadly blow, Attika placed her left hand on Linsky’s blade hand. They stood there, motionless for a long moment, face to face, chest to chest, each holding the hand of the other. Then Attika softly exhaled and slumped against Linsky, who gently lowered her to the floor, his eyes filled with tenderness.
“No!” shouted Tyana. She tried to run to Attika’s side, but one of the Stormers pushed her against the wall. She struggled to break free until the other Stormer pointed the muzzle of his M-35 at her forehead.
“What should I do with this one?” he asked casually.
“Kill her,” said Linsky.
“Any last words?” said the Stormer.
“Yeah,” she growled. “Go to hell.”
The man smirked and was about to pull the trigger when Harken intervened.
“Hold!” he said. All eyes turned toward the Grand Guardian.
“I believe she would be of more use to us alive. The Sahiradin have just now launched a grand assault against the Lycians. They are sure to gain a quick victory.”
Locking eyes with Tyana, he said, “Go tell the world what you saw here today. Attika is dead, the Storm Front is on the rise, the Sahiradin are about to gain a great victory, and their beloved Grand Guardian Harken is back.”
Tyana looked at Harken but did not respond to his words.
“Tell them!” demanded Harken. “Or I’ll send Linsky to carve you up like a roast.”
She nodded her head, though her eyes blazed with a deep rage.
Satisfied with Tyana’s response, Harken reached out and touched Linsky’s shoulder, who then placed a hand on each of the two Storm Front soldiers. Harken closed his eyes and turned his face upward. A heartbeat later, a dark shadow enveloped the group like the wings of a bat and they vanished without a trace.
As soon as they were gone, Tyana rushed to where Attika lay, but it was too late. Attika was dead. With a deep, trembling sigh, she gently lifted the Septemberist leader’s hand and pressed it against her cheek and softly wept.
Chapter 37
Some would say that truth is based on facts, but it is impossible to possess all of the facts, making it impossible to know the complete truth. Therefore, truth is like a lake. We only see its surface; its depths are hidden and its currents forever changing.
- Malcom Weller. The Collected Works of Malcom Weller.
Ravenwood pushed aside his plate and leaned back in his chair, one of just two in the small one-room apartment General Longmire had secured for him near Harmony Base. He had just finished a light supper, the only meal he’d eaten during a day filled with discussions with Earth Defense Force leaders concerning how Earth’s limited forces could best support the defense of Agurru. Now, as the clock approached midnight, he was settling down to perform the task he’d been avoiding for days, maybe longer.
With a sigh, he picked up his Personal Data Device and began to scroll through the many messages he’d received from the United Earth Council, for whom Ravenwood was the principle representative to the Lycians. Since convincing the UEC to vote in favor of joining the Alliance and fund the EDF, both the bureaucrats in Budapest and those on Tyseria had become suddenly interested in the actions and motives of each other. And as the official channel for such interactions, Ravenwood’s time was being consumed in ever greater amounts by the demands of the job.
With each message he read, Ravenwood grew increasingly frustrated. The corners of his mouth began to sink and soon he wore a deep frown on his fac.
Such is the nature of bureaucracies near and far, thought Ravenwood. Unlimited demands were placed on limited resources with no thought given prioritization, coordination, or time necessary to satisfy the request.
“Please look into an important matter on behalf of the Franco-German delegation and report back immediately.”
“There are rumors of conflict among several leading Visk syndicates who are seeking commercial relations with Earth. Make inquires and prepare a full report.”
On and on went the demands from Office of General Secretary Broussard, whose staff was mushrooming now that he’d received funding. Ravenwood grit his teeth as he glanced through the many missives, each one poking and prodding him, seeking to dictate his actions.
“When did I become the errand boy to
every sharp-dressed technocrat in Budapest?” he grumbled to himself.
Though happy that Earth was now a full-fledged member of the Alliance and pending member of the Trade Federation, Ravenwood could not help but feel nostalgic for the days when few listened to him and even fewer followed his advice. At least then he had complete freedom of action.
Ravenwood’s blood began to boil as he read another message. “Please confirm your presence at the upcoming joint meeting between General Secretary Broussard and Chief of Operations Rossini to discuss the UEC’s annual strategic plan. You will be briefed in your office on the essentials prior to the meeting.”
Ravenwood deleted that message. He had no intention of attending such a pointless meeting in his office or anywhere else. In fact, he wasn’t even aware he had an office and had no desire to see it.
With increasing speed, he flicked through the messages, deleting many and forwarding the remainder to Consul Styles. She had a good mind for such things, and he trusted her judgment implicitly. What’s more, she suffered fools with infinitely more grace than he.
Finally, Ravenwood was approaching the end of the list, though he was barely looking at them any longer. His mind had already moved on to the much more pressing problem of what to do should Agurru fall to the Sahiradin, a very real possibility given the size of the enemy fleet. Would the Tullans withdraw from the Alliance and seek a separate peace? Would the Visk calculate the odds of defeat and determine switching their allegiance? And what of the disturbing rumor that Khadiem had destroyed the Kisch and named herself Empress? If true, what new threats did that present and what new opportunities?
He was about to power down the loathsome PDD when a final message appeared for his review. He puffed in exasperation, a Tullan trait he’d adopted. He reluctantly accepted it, intending to forward the message to Beth. Yet, as he read it, he realized it was not another tedious demand on his time and energy. It was written in Malorian and bore no seal indicating who had sent it.
“Hear the song the Karazan sings. There is little time. Tell no one until you grasp the meaning.”
The Renegade Page 34