by Allan Cole
It was easy to shut down a fiendish device, but it was very difficult to detect a small eavesdropping thing lurking somewhere between the plas-steel plates of a floor or wall.
In those circumstances a collapsed fiend, lying like the dead, was the best spying device. However, it was very difficult to make a fiend behave like this. But Brosha had instructed him on how to get around that problem.
The tiny spirit, smaller then a needle’s head, hid himself in an unseen fissure. He was not a psychonic, not a telepathic creature. He was only listening, listening, listening, lying in a deep trance. Even Miss Lawson’s talents failed to detect such a “bug”.
However, for some reason Vlad wasn’t able to intercept and decrypt the coded messages sent by Miss Lawson’s assistant, the ugly Ogre-Mage Kriegworm. It made him quite uneasy, but there was nothing he could do about it at the moment.
Analyzing Lawson’s questions and tactics during her interrogations he started worrying that she was going to come to “Option Two”— which, in Fathers Onphim’s tongue meant, “She’s going to blame our side.”
That damned Amer, thought Vlad, looking through Lawson’s questions over and over again. That damned cunning Amer bitch, weaving her spiderwebs, eager to report: “Yes, I’ve got them!”
But at the same time his original opinion about her was strongly supported: she was not just a pretty face. Several times Vlad caught himself thinking, How good is she at shooting, I wonder? Instead of, How good is she in bed?
And yes, he really wanted to meet her. Just to meet her. To lock eyes with her. To hold her gaze for a space of time, giving freedom to the burning flame inside, allowing a small amount of Sword Church power to float through.
Oh yes, it would be a real delight, pleasure, enjoyment— choose any word you like. To cross swords with such a seductive enemy. There was something in this thinking that set his blood boiling, making him silly, making him forget the Rule: “The best enemy is a dead enemy, so shoot from afar.”
There was no heroism, only foolishness in close combat. Vlad understood this rule perfectly well. But now there was something strange scenting the air, something unnatural and rather unfamiliar to the Sword Church acolyte: Temptation. A challenge.
During the now swiftly moving hours sometimes Vlad was sure Lawson had discovered his presence and was searching for him— spreading the force field of her mind all over the battlestation.
The fact that he couldn’t armor himself against his beautiful enemy made him angry— not with Lawson, but with himself. He should have been better prepared to face her.
But there was something worse, much worse. And it may or may not have anything to do with Lawson.
He was becoming increasingly convinced there was someone else on board. Someone like him!
A vague shadow crawling on the very edge of his mind and sight. Someone powerful, diligently making his way— to what aim? Vlad didn’t know.
He felt the enemy, he smelled him, he was ready to rush after him— but that enemy was also cunning and careful. A tiny movement of Vlad’s mind and searching gaze— and the faint shadow faded into a darkness.
Oh yes, there was a decision to be made. A fast and simple one— inform Amiriani and launch a thorough hunt. A round-up. A swoop. And take this miserable thing by its throat and force him (or her, or it) to crawl on his knees.
Yes, this would be sweet. And yet it was not suitable. The Odysseus Corps and the Church Of The Sword had been at war for many years. But those long years had somehow melded those old enemies into partners in a dangerous and most secret game.
There was another Special Rule for such things. If he encountered an Odysseus assassin he must deal with him in person. A knight’s courtesy, so to speak. Strange? Yes. But it was so and Vlad was too good a knight to change the rules of honor.
He waited. His enemy would be active, but Vlad wasn’t too worried. After all, what could the Amer do about the spy Vlad suspected was on board? Automatically, he’d separated the two in his mind. The Odysseus Corps warrior and the spy had to be two separate individuals. There was no other possibility.
Never mind the spy. If there even was a spy. The main thing was the recent arrival of the Odysseus Corps killer.
The fellow was not only surrounded by Russian forces, but also he didn’t dare alert Tanya Lawson to his presence for fear of giving himself away to Vlad. Of course there was the nagging possibility Vlad’s enemy had been in league with Lawson from the start and they had conspired together before she’d docked with the Borodino…
Vlad took precautions. The mysterious person would most certainly attempt to infiltrate Borodino security. Let him do it. Vlad would keep an eye out. A close eye.
The trap would slam shut very soon.
One of the things that came to Vlad’s attention was a simple little fellow from the medtech team. Why had he displayed a sudden and quite strange interest in certain restricted zones? It was not forbidden, but this simple lad had never before shown such interests. His prior history showed that he mostly enjoyed X-rated computer modeling. But now …
Vlad came to the conclusion that the poor medtech was already gone. And that the man from Odysseus Corps had taken his place.
In his mind Vlad even applauded his unknown enemy. To penetrate the Borodino’s security was a damned good trick. The guy was practically equal to Vlad himself. Very good. When they finally met the duel would be most pleasurable.
From the very beginning Vlad had thought about the coming fight with his Odysseus enemy as a “duel,”— nothing else. Not bloody, clumsy fighting but a graceful ritual.
Meanwhile, Miss Lawson had at last confronted the unhappy Dolgov. Very swiftly she had checked up on Igor’s girlfriend, that Popova woman. The golden-haired Amer was like a bulldog.
But… what was that buzz?
What was happening?
Vlad rushed from his lair. The dreadful aura of approaching death made him run like mad for he felt the terrible lust for death and extermination start to overwhelm the mind of poor Igor.
He hadn’t gone ten steps when the gun fired.
And then Vlad looked up and found himself staring into the wild-looking eyes of Miss Tanya Lawson.
* * *
When Tanya’s eyes met Vlad’s there was a long frozen moment. The horror of Igor’s death retreated before a shock of magical awareness.
This was the man whose scent she had caught in the interrogation room! The man whose name Igor dared not speak when she asked the young lieutenant to list the names of those who had questioned him.
Vlad’s aura was so powerful that at first she thought he was a wizard. Tanya quickly corrected that mistake.
She thought, he’s no magician, but there’s magic in his making. On the surface this reasoning made no sense, but on a visceral level the realization cut through her like a knife.
The air around him was super-charged with his strength. Other men seemed small and weak-willed in comparison. He was also the deadliest man she’d ever met.
Not evil, though. Somehow his deadliness had an inner purity to it. He’d seen much, done much, suffered much. But he believed his cause was sacred and so was able rise above the common crimes of his actions.
There was still one more thing about the strange man with the pale blue eyes. And it was most disturbing. She felt a sudden attraction to him— like two powerful magnets had been placed near each other, opposite poles whipping up a storm of electrons whirling toward a sub-atomic embrace.
Then a double thrill of realization pebbled her spine. She turned her head slightly— still not breaking the gaze between herself and Vlad.
Another scent called to her— magical pheromones carried on etherous winds.
The world swirled about her with a sudden sense of deja vu.
And then she knew!
Somewhere on the Borodino was another man like the one standing before her! Someone with the same powerful purpose and deadly skills.
The same man who had watched her through
the monitors when she’d been in the ship’s lounge preparing to board the Borodino.
She clearly remembered the oddly pleasant feelings that had stolen over her while the man had watched. Feelings quite similar to the animal attraction she felt toward the one now standing across from her now.
What was happening here?
Who were these two men?
Blood rushed in her ears and she felt like she was on a bullet-train speeding through the night.
She closed her eyes to steady herself.
When she opened them again the strange young man was gone!
But she could still feel his presence quite strongly.
And the other one. He was still near!
Tanya’s heart trip-hammered against her chest. She had to find them both, and quickly. There was the stink of murder in the air.
She raced down the corridor, tracking the spoor of the two mysterious men.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Damn, damn, damn, Davyd thought. The last thing I want to do is kill this kid.
Then, suddenly he realized that Billy hadn’t stopped talking. And what he was talking about might just be winning him a reprieve.
“You only want to ask some more stupid questions,” the boy was saying. “Like that other guy who was here before. Did you talk to him?”
Davyd was a little dazed as he drew back from his agony.
“Talk to whom?”
“The other guy. Vlad.”
“Never heard of him,” Davyd said, a broad smile spreading across his face.
He was much relieved. The boy’s suspicions were so far off the mark that Davyd would be able to spare him. For the time being, that is. The interview wasn’t over yet.
“At least Vlad didn’t pretend to be somebody else,” Billy said. “So I guess that makes you a big liar.”
Davyd set the tray down. “How did you know I wasn’t a tech?” he asked.
The boy gave him a crooked grin. “That’s a secret,” he said with some pride. “My secret!”
It was then that Davyd sensed the small trickle of magical power emanating from Billy. He blinked in sudden realization, thinking, Now I understand! The boy’s a little wizard. That’s how he’d survived!
Laughing, Davyd sat on the edge of Billy’s bed.
“Okay, you got me,” he said. “I’m not really a tech. And like you guessed, I was sent here to ask you some more questions.”
Billy was delighted at this confession. “Who sent you?” he demanded.
Davyd pretended to look this way and that to see if anyone was about. “Promise you won’t tell?” he said.
Billy crossed his heart. “Promise,” he said.
Davyd pointed upwards, as if at the heavens. “My bosses,” he said. “Real big shots.” He sighed. “The thing is, if I don’t come back with any answers I’m going to be in really big trouble.”
Billy frowned. “That’s not right,” he said. “Why should you get in trouble because I won’t talk?”
“That’s how big shots are,” Davyd said.
“I’m sorry,” Billy said. “You shouldn’t have to get in trouble because of me.”
“That’s all right,” Davyd said. “I understand.”
Then, pretending he had an idea, Davyd let his eyes widen. “I know,” he said. “Why don’t we just pretend?”
“Pretend what?”
“That I asked you some questions and you answered them. I’ll make something up. Then I won’t get into trouble.”
He looked at Billy, as if worried. “If I do, you won’t tell, will you?”
“Wouldn’t that be a lie?” Billy said.
Davyd thought a moment, then let his shoulders fall, as if in defeat. “Yeah, it would,” he said. “I hate lying. I wouldn’t have done it this time, except they made me.”
He rose and started packing up his tray. “Never mind,” he said. “I’ll think of something.”
Davyd was about to walk out the door when Billy stopped him. “Wait a minute,” the boy said.
He turned back, a shy smile on his face. “You mean, you’ve changed your mind? You’ll help me make something up?”
Billy shook his head. “No. We’ll give them the real thing.” He settled back into his pillows.
“Go ahead,” he said. “Ask your questions. And I’ll answer every single one.”
Davyd sat back down. “Thanks,” he said. “You’ve probably saved my job. But let’s make it simple. Just tell me what happened. I’ll put it in my report and tell them not to bother you anymore.”
Billy nodded, then started relating the tale. He left out a few little bits that might be embarrassing— such as the beautiful Lupe who’d captured his boyish fancy. He tried to tell it straight, without emotion, but the deeper he got into the story the more he had to fight back tears.
Suddenly, the awful memory overwhelmed him and he found himself flung back into that night of terror, reliving the events …
…He was asleep. But his dreams had turned grim and he was uneasy. A sudden sense of cruelty roughed his senses and he shot up in bed.
He felt It coming for him!
A beast rushing down with slavering jaws.
Instinct took over and as he threw up his hands he hurled a hard spell!
His first spell.
But potent.
And then… boom! Billy closed his eyes. Fire scorching and hammering all around.
And he shouted … Lupe! Lupe!”
Then he was back in his room, sobbing and ashamed of the tears.
Davyd leaned close, wanting to comfort Billy, but not making that mistake. Instinctively he knew the child would feel humiliated if he treated him as anything less than an adult.
Billy shook free of the memory. Davyd unzipped a package of stimcloths and the boy wiped his face, the sharp scent of the astringent-soaked material gently shocking him into composure.
He laughed, a little giddy. “That was stupid,” he said. “Sorry.”
“Not as stupid as the guys who are making me ask you this stuff,” Davyd said, keeping his voice light.
Billy’s eyes brightened, his pupils narrowed from the mild pep drug contained in the cloths.
“What happened after that?” Davyd asked.
Billy giggled. “The next thing I knew I was sort of like, you know … floating in space. Like a fish.”
He wriggled his body, giggling some more. Then he became serious. “Then everything went sort of blank. I was unconscious, I guess. When I came to I was in this stupid hospital. And everybody else was … dead.”
His voice thickened and he stopped.
A long silence followed. Billy stared at his hands, pulling the net tight on his emotions. Davyd studied him, seeing his own self in the child.
A thousand years or more ago he’d been like this very same boy— an orphan at six when his parents died in a plane crash. Only Davyd’s special talents had kept him from disappearing into the warrens of the poor. His sharp mind and extraordinary physical abilities had saved him.
A star athlete from an early age, he’d easily won a posting to West Point. There he’d shone both in his studies and on the field, winning many medals for his country in the both the decathlon and military pentathlon.
He’d been headed for the Olympics when he was recruited for the Odysseus Corps.
A sudden feeling of depression overcame Davyd. All the old regrets came rushing in, along with the bloody nightmares of the people he’d killed.
Grisly scenes: blood, so much blood; people on their knees, begging for mercy, and no mercy in him, just hate and the mission the to take out the target at all costs.
In his pocket the gremlin-box grew warm and vibrated in alarm.
Something was wrong!
Davyd was under attack!
Battle drugs were pumped into his body and his thought process sped up. Where was the enemy? He looked at the boy— who was staring at him strangely.
Davyd thought, No, not from there.
But where? Where?
“What’s wrong?” Billy asked. “Are you okay?”
Davyd forced himself back into the role. “Sure,” he said. “Everything’s fine. But tell me … when you were still on the liner … you said something about an animal. A monster that woke you up.”
“It was my imagination,” Billy said. “There wasn’t any monster.” He signed. “Only the missiles.”
“But you didn’t, uh, sense the missiles, right?”
Billy’s eyes widened, realizing Davyd had figured out he had magical powers.
“Don’t worry about the magic stuff,” Davyd said, as if reading his mind. “I won’t mention it to anyone.”
Billy grinned, accepting the bargain. Then, very seriously, “I was dreaming about some kind of … beast,” he said. “Not missiles.” He shrugged. “Maybe I got mixed up.”
“That’s most likely,” Davyd said. “It was a coincidence.”
He didn’t believe that at all. If there was one thing Davyd knew, it was that there no such thing as coincidence. Just like his talking to Billy and the sudden attack of severe depression was no coincidence.
Davyd shivered. There was something there!
Something dark. Something fierce. Waiting …
But what?
What?
“Somebody’s coming,” Billy said.
Davyd’s head jerked back. He turned toward the door and caught a familiar scent. His nerves thrilled. Finally, a legitimate kill.
“It’s Vlad,” Billy announced. “The guy who was here before.”
Davyd nodded, “I know,” he said, flat.
Billy suddenly caught what was happening.
“Are you going to kill him?” His voice was very small.
Davyd pulled himself together. As badly as he wanted to face this man— this delicious, hateful equal— to do so would blow the mission.
No one must know he’d been aboard the Borodino.
“Not now,” he said and at the same time he leaned forward, sweeping the hypo gun off the tray.
The boy’s eyes were huge as Davyd took his arm pressed the gun against his bare flesh.
“Are you going to kill me?” Billy asked.
Davyd pressed the trigger, shooting the fluids into the boy’s arm.