MindRogue

by Connie Suttle

  "Now what?" Kooper asked as the attackers bumped into one another behind the containment shield I'd built around them—after destroying their weapons.

  "I suppose we'll have to figure out how to destroy their shields, or take them somewhere so they can starve to death," I replied.

  "Fuck," Kooper cursed as he watched obsessed attackers attempt to keep moving within the containment shield.

  The bodies of three dead agents had already been removed when Jett Riffler arrived on the scene. He'd traveled by mundane means to get to us, and managed the distance in record time.

  His dark skin glistened with sweat in the afternoon light as he walked onto the loading dock, flanked by two guards—he and they had run the remaining distance after a transport dropped them off half a mile away.

  "They can't see outside the containment shield—I constructed it that way," I told Jett before he could voice his concern. "If the Prophet is seeing through their eyes, he's not seeing anything except a blank wall right now."

  "So they laid a trap," Jett shook his head. "This makes things worse."

  "I think he drew us in with the Gant family, and then set us up for this," Kooper said.

  "If Randl hadn't been here, we'd be dead—most of us, anyway," Vik remarked.

  "When did you know the Prophet was involved in this—and had troops hiding?" Jett asked.

  "The moment we stepped onto the loading dock," I answered.

  "I'll be sure to write up the fools who didn't examine everything, including the platform," Jett rumbled while looking around the loading dock. Instead of only seeing a bloody floor and walls, as it had been, one wall was now collapsed, the others pock-marked with laser blasts.

  The concrete floor would be stained with blood, but I imagined it could be painted over. With the Prophet's small army nearby, although contained, the stink of his interference hung heavy in the air.

  "We've removed the one crushed by the wall," Kooper said. "His shield collapsed when the wall did. No idea how that happened, but he's flatter than a ribbon lizard, now."

  I turned to blink at Kooper. "It fell on him from overhead, didn't it?" I asked.

  "If you mean the wall, yes."

  "Maybe we can destroy the other shields the same way. We've been attacking them from the sides. Maybe we need to do that from the top—or the bottom."

  "We can try both," Kooper said. He sounded as if he were willing to try anything at this point.

  "I recognize some of them as those missing from Campiaa," Jett said. "Can you get anything useful from any of them?" He turned back to me.

  "It's the same as usual—they bear the obsession of the Prophet. They don't even recall their names at this point, they just want to kill me and anyone else who gets in their way."

  "There's no saving them, or any reason to question any of them?"

  "Not at this point," I replied.

  "Damn." Jett sounded weary.

  "They'll try to fight anyone who makes an attempt to question them, and you may not get answers of any kind," I went on. "These are just killing machines, now."

  "Are they clean, or is there forensic evidence we can collect to see where they've been?" Trent asked.

  "Is there a way we can place them in suspension?" Vik suggested. "In case a cure or something is found?"

  "That's an excellent idea," I blinked at Vik. "I think I can do that."

  "What are we waiting for?" Kooper rumbled. "Get on with it, and once they're rendered harmless, we'll see if they have evidence on them."

  BlackWing X

  Travis

  Things got complicated, Trent informed me in mindspeech. There are now fourteen of the Prophet's minions in stasis, after they tried to kill us. We only managed to kill one.

  I'd sent out tentative mindspeech initially, after he'd been gone eight hours. It should have taken less than half that.

  What about the warehouse? I asked.

  Kooper says it'll have to be shut down until further notice. Looks like the owners will have to set up their operations in an empty facility nearby until this is cleared up. Randl says the stink of the Prophet is all over it.

  Doesn't sound good, I said. Was Randl the main target?

  We think so. Maybe next time, he ought to show up in heavy disguise.

  Not a bad idea.

  Yeah. Nothing happened until he walked through the door, and then all hell broke loose.

  I guess the Prophet knows the coin trick won't work on Randl, I said.

  Randl knew something was up the minute he walked through the door. The Prophet can't hide his signature from Randl, like he can from anybody else. I didn't feel anything the whole time we were there.

  Does it feel like things are getting worse—like the Prophet's getting more devious? I asked.

  I think he thought it was going to be easy, until Randl showed up. Now, the Prophet has to kick things into overdrive to thwart Randl.

  Do you sometimes feel as if this is good and evil battling each other, with no way for either to win? I asked. Like being evenly matched, or something?

  I hope that's not the case, or this could go on forever, with piles of bodies left in its wake.

  Yeah.

  When do you think you'll be back?

  Maybe in an hour. We haven't had anything to eat, so Kooper may want a dinner meeting. If that happens, I'll let you know. Has Sabrina come up with anything there?

  She's using a scanner she modified earlier. So far, nothing out of the ordinary, but it takes time to scan every inch of a planet, down to the core.

  Nice. Kooper will probably be interested in that technology—right now, the only thing in production that'll scan to the core is huge and carried on a science ship.

  She modified a regular scanner that'll fit in your locker, I said. Appears to work just fine but it's slower than she likes. Now, she and Miz are working together to improve that.

  Sounds great. Let us know if you find anything, I said. Kooper's back and he wants a meal and a meeting.

  Randl

  For a while, we'd felt too nauseous to eat, so we'd used that time to write an official and an unofficial report for Kooper. The unofficial one would include my take on the Prophet's influence in the events—something that couldn't be proven for the official version that others would read.

  Kooper, Jett, Ildevar Wyyld and Teeg San Gerxon would be the ones to receive the unofficial versions, for their eyes only.

  The only other people who knew about those reports were the ones writing them. Mak had a good memory, so he wrote a report for the official files, with full understanding of what needed to go in and what needed to stay out. He and his brother had a good educational background, which I'd come to appreciate very much.

  Their former employer, Jewl Yarro, had only cared about their bodyguarding capability.

  "Ready for food?" I asked, slapping Mak on the back.

  "Since about two hours ago," he said, scooting his chair back from the borrowed desk and standing to stretch cramped muscles. All four arms went behind his head as he bent from side to side, eliminating kinks and cracking joints.

  "Good," I told him. "Kooper wants to have a meeting while we eat," I continued. "I'll buy you a beer or two, if you want."

  "I'd take about six," he agreed with a wry smile.

  "I hear that," I said. "Want to walk or fold space?"

  "If it's all the same to you, let's walk. My legs are cramped after sitting so long."

  We walked through the maze of hallways in the local CSD Headquarters, until we found Kooper, Trent and Vik standing near the front door. Jett was with them. He'd be coming to dinner with us; I could see it in his face.

  "A round of drinks," Jett said when a waiter sidled up to our table in a private, upscale restaurant not far away.

  Our drink orders were taken, with half of us ordering the largest beer they offered. "Room for two more?" Zaria arrived, and with her was another Blevakian. While I couldn't read her, I could read Bleek, who was one of he
r mates.

  Mak blinked without speaking; I determined quickly that Bleek was a hero—a legend on Blevakia.

  "How—is your son?" Mak found the courage to speak.

  "Barc is fine. He's getting high marks in an advanced school on Wyyld." Bleek was happy to talk about his only child. "How is your family?"

  "Thriving," Mak replied. "Very well, thank you." He knew they had things in common—both had worked for a criminal at one time, and had been rescued from that life by the ones they now stood beside.

  "If your eldest wishes to attend college off-world, her tuition will be covered on Le-Ath Veronis," Zaria leaned around Bleek to inform Mak.

  "Thank you—I'll remember that," Mak said.

  "Just tell her to write a letter to the Queen, asking to be admitted. I'll tell Lissa it's coming," Zaria added.

  "She loves studying history," Mak blurted.

  "There is no finer college to learn that subject—from instructors who actually lived through much of it," Zaria replied.

  Take her up on it, I told Mak in mindspeech. Zaria is right about this.

  Kooper cleared his throat, taking us back to the reason we were here to begin with. "I'm not sure Randl should come to future sites, unless a way can be found to get him in without the Prophet knowing," Kooper said.

  "That's why I'm here," Zaria said.

  "Why are you here?" Kooper lifted an eyebrow when he turned in her direction.

  "To change his outward appearance and a few other things. Don't worry—to those who matter, he'll still be the same. To the Prophet and anyone else who doesn't need to know, they'll see someone different. Every time."

  "I'm not going to ask how that's possible," Kooper shook his head. "Whatever you need to do, I suppose."

  I could tell Kooper saw this as usurping some of his power. I saw it as a potential life saver, and not just of my life.

  "I'm not trying to take anything from you, Director." Zaria sounded frosty. "I'm attempting to preserve what you still have."

  "I get that." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "We've had a trying day."

  "I know." Zaria sounded more amenable.

  "What do you need to do?" Kooper asked.

  "It's already done," she shrugged. "Remain cautious, Director. Things will proceed as they will."

  With that, she and Bleek rose from the table and disappeared. Mak was disappointed—he wanted to talk more with Bleek. Kooper's initial reaction to Zaria's assistance had precipitated her early exit.

  I understood Kooper's frustrations up to a point. Being what he was, he was limited in what power he could employ to combat the threat the Prophet represented. Zaria, on the other hand, could do more, and didn't appear to have the same restraints.

  Kooper found that frustrating, as would I.

  I realized then that I held a unique position in this war with the Prophet—I was under no obligation to follow a set of rules delivered alongside the power I held.

  Zaria was the same as I—we were rogue participants in the Hierarchy's eyes, I suppose. We'd come to our power through other means—I'd been born to mine. I had no idea how Zaria's developed.

  Perhaps those were questions for Quin—when we had time to talk. Director, I sent to Kooper, stop worrying about it. I know you're frustrated. I think we all are after today.

  Let's order now—we have plenty to discuss, he replied.

  BlackWing XIII

  Randl

  I didn't know at first, until the restaurant manager thanked Kooper when we walked out of our private dining room later. The only person he remembered seeing was Kooper. All the rest of us looked different to him. I didn't delve too deeply into what he saw, only that he wasn't didn't recognize the rest of us.

  Zaria had changed all of us, and not just me. The Prophet would be hard-pressed to put a name or identity to X's and XIII's crew from now on.

  Thank you, I sent to Zaria as I approached the bridge. Dori would be there, and I'd tell her what we found at the warehouse. We'd also discuss any information she'd received from Sabrina regarding the deep scan of Ca'Lex.

  Be careful, Zaria's reply entered my mind.

  We'll do our best.

  BlackWing X

  Travis

  Trent was exhausted, but he wanted to know if we found anything. I couldn't put him off until the next day; I knew Dori would deliver the news to an equally exhausted Randl when he arrived on XIII.

  Beneath so much jungle growth and piled debris, we'd found two deep, square holes, where undoubtedly there'd been liquid concrete poured at one time.

  Both holes were now empty, and mostly filled in with vines and detritus. We'd have to visit the planet to learn what we could on how long the holes may have been empty, and what, if anything, we could determine about the contents before they were removed.

  We'll go to the planet's surface in the morning, Randl's mindspeech told me how tired he was.

  Yeah, I responded.

  Chapter 5

  Ca'Lex

  Randl

  "There's a trog-fly nest near the top of the hole," Miz pointed out as we stood at the edge of the first emptied crater. "It couldn't have tunneled in from the side like that if the concrete were still there. I estimate by the age of the larvae that the hole has been empty for around twelve days."

  Miz was a walking science comp-vid, we discovered. Who knew what other sorts of information he had stored away?

  "It takes eleven days for the eggs of the trog-fly to hatch, and these are newly hatched, according to the size—only a day or so old."

  Do you think this could be another trap? Dori sent. Is the Prophet hoping you'll come to check on this?

  No idea, I replied. Zaria's disguises are in effect, though, and I don't feel anything overly strange, Prophet-wise, about the area, other than what's coming from this hole. I hesitate to touch the area around it, though, in case he's set a trap for me that way.

  I don't want you to touch it, she confirmed. It scares me.

  "I'll take a soil sample," Travis said. We wore protective suits, and I had no desire to pull mine off to get a feel for what happened, here.

  With a soil sample, I could place a shield around myself aboard ship and see what I could determine that way. I didn't want to frighten Dori or the others, either, but I felt a watchfulness about the area—as if eyes were on us. The feeling was vague—more of a slight discomfort, rather than a full-blown concern.

  "Take enough for two testings," I said aloud.

  Travis turned toward me; I could see his frown through the clear mask of his suit. I need some for me, too, and not just the science team, I sent. I don't trust the Prophet in this.

  Understood. Travis took the trowel Miz handed to him and began shoveling dirt into a collector before sealing it shut. "The other location is two miles away," he said. "Prepare to be transported, everyone."

  The second hole bore similar signs of age, according to Miz. More dirt was shoveled into a second collector. In both locations, jungle conditions were present. This entire section of the planet was choked with trees, vines and rampant plant growth.

  Trees were closer to the second hole, however, and I became wary, as the feeling of being watched increased somewhat. I didn't detect malice in the watchfulness—not specifically, anyway, just a wary regard, as if whomever it was held deep concern—and curiosity—over our presence.

  It wasn't animals or shapeshifters—those had a different feel. This—I had no explanation for it, as I hadn't felt it before.

  "Ready for transport to the ship," Travis announced. Seconds later, we were taken away from the planet's surface. I'd folded my crew away while Travis did the same with his.

  Half an hour later, my share of the soil samples landed in my office, courtesy of Miz, Trent and Markus.

  "Properly sealed," Miz set both bio-containers on my desk. "If you'd like assistance in doing the analysis," he offered.

  "Miz, I'm going to touch them," I admitted. "With my bare hands. I'll be shielded
when I do it."

  "What will that do?" Miz turned to Markus.

  "He can feel the past through objects that were present during certain events," Markus shrugged. "I can't explain it better than that."

  "I didn't do it while we were there in case the Prophet was watching, somehow," I hedged. "I didn't exactly feel his presence, but."

  "Travis says he felt like he was being watched by something," Trent offered.

  "Good. Then I'm not the only one," Markus said. "What I felt—David calls it the willies."

  "Markus, Miz, interview everyone who went to the surface," I said. "Ask them who felt as if they were being watched. Send a report to me afterward."

  "On it," Markus said. He and Miz strode out of my office, leaving me alone with Trent and the samples on my desk.

  "You don't think it was the Prophet, do you?" Trent asked.

  "No. This was something I hadn't felt before. Perhaps the Prophet has new allies," I said.

  "That's not good."

  "It may be something else," I said. "I may know more when I touch these." I tapped the containers in front of me.

  "Need someone to watch?"

  "I'll ask Vik. He should be able to intervene or call in the troops if needed."

  "Good enough. Hard to come to terms with him being an older brother, you know."

  "I think he feels the empty years between you and Travis," I said. "Things should have been different, but they weren't."

  "Things should have been different with Reah, but they weren't," Trent sighed.

  "Every family has its share of darker times, I think," I said.

  "What about yours?" Trent asked.

  "Except for my mother dying early," I began. I recalled my vision of her after touching the Prophet's coin. Someone had harmed her in the past. I still hadn't gotten to the bottom of that, yet.

  "You may be luckier than most," Trent said. "I have to go. Trav's watching the bridge until I get back."

  I watched him disappear in front of me. Luckier than most, he'd said. That remained to be seen.

  Prophet's Compound