MindRogue

by Connie Suttle

  Because of tradition or superstition or whatever, Quin sent a mental sigh. That's not good.

  Not for us, anyway, if the Prophet has been there and managed to hide the evidence of it.

  That's what I would do—make sure nobody knew I was there if I could.

  Same here. We still don't know where Mebbers' stronghold is, so the Prophet likely is ahead of us, there.

  All he has to do is grab an employee of Mebbers' and have compulsion laid. They'd tell him anything he wanted to know.

  Or play the torture card. That works, too. Plus, if he can find several employees, he could walk right into the compound without lifting a finger.

  I've always wondered how long it takes him to work his necromancy spell.

  No idea. It's possible that we happened to cross paths, too—him just before leaving A'pelur, while we reached his range of effect. The bodies flopped and jerked for ten minutes.

  Do you think the reaction of the bodies may have been stronger outside their sealed container? Quin asked.

  It's possible. We won't know unless they're out of it and back in proximity to the Prophet, and I don't want them out of that container.

  I understand. They're too dangerous. I have to go—Justis has put dinner on hold.

  The bodies were dangerous—and capable of spreading the Prophet's disease. As a sealed barometer of his nearness and influence, they were useful. Outside that purpose, they were hazardous to an extreme.

  Go have dinner with Justis—I'll let you know of any new developments.

  Thank you.

  Absently, I pulled the first coin I'd received in split-time from my pocket. The bag I'd received on my second trip lay in a desk drawer. I wanted to carry them, too, but there were too many to fit easily in all my pockets.

  Unless you make them smaller—and carry them like the ones on your back, whispered into my mind.

  Opening the drawer, I pulled out the bag of coins and dumped them on my desk, being careful not to mix them with the other pile for coin trips.

  Like the last coins—these were gold and silver, mixed.

  How hard would it be to stamp them into my skin—like the ink of a tattoo?

  Not hard, as it turned out.

  Afterward, I surveyed my work; the all-seeing eye of Horus on my back was now filled in with gold and darkened silver. I hoped that nobody could see it—as Dori hadn't seen the others.

  "You're the last," I told the first coin, and feeling contrary on its placement, I stamped it into my right upper arm, where tattoos generally lay. Then, I gave it rays of gold, as if it were a shining sun.

  Somehow, it felt right.

  I didn't notice the added weight of the coins, either, and I was grateful. For better or worse, if I ever faced the Prophet again, I'd carry the remnants of dead worlds with me, perhaps as a reminder.

  A reminder of what could happen to the worlds currently in existence, if I failed to destroy V'dar.

  I'd asked her which god the sacrifices were made for—the woman I'd seen on the last coin trip. She'd said, the one who always comes at the last.

  Sacrifices.

  I'd seen sacrifices.

  Men, women and children, driven into holes and drowned in liquid concrete. Those whose bones were apparently being ground into powder and used as building materials in who knew how many places, so the Prophet could control whomever came close or inhabited those places.

  The Prophet could control anyone through the very food they consumed if he wanted. Even after their deaths, he could control them for his own purposes.

  How could V'dar be considered a god?

  Were gods always gods in the beginning, or had they drawn power to themselves to become stronger—to become the gods they were—over time?

  Was V'dar becoming?

  Was he the one to come at the last?

  Could we stop him before he controlled everything?

  The deep breath I drew trembled with these new revelations. How could we stop him? Already he was too strong and elusive. We'd been chasing after him for nearly two years and hadn't come close to finding him.

  All we'd done was beaten back his army. I'd angered him. Wounded him, perhaps, which only fueled his fury against me.

  I had no doubt in my mind, now, that he could raise another army of the dead on A'pelur, should he desire it.

  Kooper, I sent.

  Randl? He sounded surprised to hear from me.

  It's time, I told him.

  Time for what?

  To offer me in exchange for leaving A'pelur alone.

  No.

  You need to listen to me in this. There's too much at stake.

  Come to a meeting on Le-Ath Veronis in three hours. We'll discuss this with all pertinent parties.

  I'll be there.

  P'loxett

  V'dar

  I had more than thirty of the small spheres. I couldn't carry all of them with me, so the two largest ones had been my choice to hold in my pocket and toy with upon occasion.

  I'd been drawn to the box containing the others after my return from A'pelur.

  What would Father's advice be in this?

  Failing that, what would my uncle have said? He'd perished not long after my father's death.

  Uncle V'ili wore a frown whenever he visited me—as if I were an aberration to his race. Father always said to ignore it—that Uncle V'ili acted that way most of the time. It no longer mattered; he was dead.

  Father was also dead. All I had left of him were my spheres. You were born for a purpose, Father always said.

  What purpose is that? I'd asked him when I was younger.

  You were born to rule everything, he'd told me. I'd learned much from him throughout my life. He was quite powerful. Still, someone had killed him. I'd never learned who or how. Should I discover their name, I'd target them with the full force of my anger and power. They were an enemy, just as Randl Gage was an enemy.

  I will avenge you, Father, I vowed silently to the spheres.

  "Greetings," a wispy figure rose from one of the spheres in my box. "We are gifts from your father. Gifts of power, to make your transition complete."

  I stared at the cloudy, ghost-like vision before me.

  "Transition?" I couldn't decide whether I appreciated the sound of it.

  "Your father, Liron, decreed it; therefore, our power now belongs to you," the wisp informed me.

  "But," I held up a hand.

  I staggered and fell as the might and energy contained in thirty-four spheres ripped into my body.

  Chapter 17

  Queen's Palace, Le-Ath Veronis

  Randl

  Travis, Vik and Dori insisted on coming with me. Dori knew something was up, and I also knew how strongly she'd object to my idea of a trade—me for A'pelur.

  It won't stop the Prophet from taking other worlds, and if you die this time, what will they do next time? My conscience continued to nag at me.

  If we laid a trap instead, would he suspect and prepare for that possibility?

  "Even if you do this, as you suggested," Kooper's deep voice contained suppressed anger, "the damage is already done if the Prophet has invaded those graveyards. He can call on them anytime. This is foolish and you know it. You'll be throwing your life away for nothing."

  What have you done? Dori turned toward me with a frown.

  "I haven't done anything, yet," I said, hoping to calm her and Kooper at the same time.

  "We have troops on the way," Jett informed us.

  "Ships, too?" My breath stopped for a moment.

  "Yes. Why?"

  "Oh, no. No, no, no," I shook my head forcefully. "He may be hoping for exactly that—that we'll send ships he can take from us."

  "He lost that game last time," Kooper growled.

  "And has had plenty of time to reconsider and plan his next moves to prevent it from happening again," I said. "He has an idea of what he's up against, now, and he's not stupid, Director. Far from it, actually."

&nb
sp; "He also has a weapons expert at his command," Travis pointed out quietly. "Le'Vestar Limn could be building whatever the Prophet wants, with the materials and expertise at his disposal. Face it—if he and Miz's sister could have broken away from the Prophet's obsession, they'd have done it by now. A single ship, armed with ranos cannons, can do a lot of damage. If the Prophet is on board, well, we've seen what sort of damage he can do, all by himself."

  "We still don't know where Mebbers is, and we could be dealing with him and the Prophet at the same time when we get there," I said.

  "Then I suggest you go now," Kooper snapped. "I'll send the other BlackWing ships to join you, to support Jett and his people. Surely you can take out one ship, no matter how it's armed or protected. We will not offer a trade for you. Not now. That is my command."

  This will kill Miz, if it kills his sister, Travis remarked in mindspeech.

  I know. Come on, we have preparations to make. Will you contact the rest of the BlackWing fleet? Have them flying their pirate flags when they arrive in A'pelur's orbit. I'll inform Jett not to shoot at us.

  On it.

  "Director," Vik said, his voice thoughtful. "I understand it's your job to send your agents into danger now and then. Generally, they have a chance at survival when they go. I'd consider this carefully, if I were you."

  "You're afraid of the Prophet?" Kooper demanded.

  "Hell, yes. I'm not worried about me, though. I'm worried about the rest of the fleet. You're sending them into grave danger, and you know it."

  "Then what's your suggestion, Agent Roth?"

  "Keep the ships away who have nobody with power aboard. They're the most vulnerable to the Prophet's influence."

  "I agree with Agent Roth," Jett spoke for the first time. "Leave them out of it. You know what could happen to them, otherwise."

  "That only leaves BlackWings I, II and VII," Kooper complained.

  "Then only send those," Queen Lissa said. "Vik is right in this. At least the ones with power have some kind of defense against this menace."

  "Fine. What about Jett's ships?"

  "I'd like to leave them out of this fight, too," I said.

  "I can pull them back far enough that a ship's sensors won't detect them," Jett offered.

  "Then do that." Kooper's anger was heating up again.

  "I'll ride on XIII, with Randl's permission," Jett turned to me.

  "That's fine," I agreed. "Are you ready to go now, or do you want some time before boarding?"

  "I'll come now. Do you have a ranos rifle I can borrow?"

  "Of course."

  "Director." I jerked my head in a half-nod at Kooper. It wasn't anyone's fault that he wanted to tear into the enemy and destroy them. He was welcome to come, take up a rifle and use it if necessary.

  I hadn't made the rules that bound the Hierarchy. Perhaps it was time someone reminded him of that; I sure as hell didn't want to.

  "Let's go," I said, my voice sharper than intended. Travis folded us away from Le-Ath Veronis; my anger was showing, too.

  P'Loxett

  V'dar

  "You're sure of this?" I asked. I felt more powerful now than I ever had, and with my new power came new advisors. I found I trusted their opinions and advice.

  Very sure. The same one spoke for all, I learned quickly.

  "Then I should go now to lay the trap." I smiled at the thought. They said he'd come—the one I wanted more than anything. I would be most pleased to kill him this time. With my new companions inhabiting my body, how could I fail?

  BlackWing XIII

  Crew Meeting with X and XIII

  Randl

  "Zan, I want you to monitor Akrinn and Lorvis. If they so much as move a little finger while we're in orbit around A'pelur, I need to know it," I said.

  "What can I do?" Perri asked. She and Zanfield sat next to one another. I didn't want to speculate yet; things would work out or they wouldn't.

  "Perri, how far away can you sense a warlock or witch's talent? I know this is difficult for you, but we have to find Mebbers' hideout. If we don't and the Prophet gets there first, then he'll have an entire nest of criminals at his disposal to fight us."

  "Usually I have to be close," she began, although she sounded better about performing the task than I thought she would.

  "We may be able to help Perri with that," Nari and Tiri volunteered. "And, with the support of the technology that Sabrina is developing, we may be able to pull all of us together to find Mebbers—or those who work for him, at least."

  Sabrina, who sat with Travis and Trent, turned toward the twins and blinked. "You think so?" she asked them.

  "We have DNA from Perri, which will be close enough to that of three powerful Karathians on the surface of the planet. If we work our talent of vibration locating into your equipment, and bring Perri's ability to sniff out power signatures with us, I think we have a chance," Nari explained.

  I stared at the twins—could this work? "Go, then," I said. "Keep me advised."

  "On it," Sabrina stood, as did the twins and Perri.

  "Good luck," Zanfield said softly to Perri, who turned briefly to give him a grateful nod.

  If what they proposed actually worked, it could be a first—when multiple talents were combined with technology to achieve a specific result.

  I liked the idea.

  "Who's bringing the other three BlackWing ships?" Jett asked.

  "They're bringing themselves—there's someone powerful enough aboard all three," Travis replied. "When they meet us here, we'll fold space to a designated orbit around A'pelur. If Sabrina and the others have their machine working, I hope we'll find Mebbers quickly."

  "We don't know when the Prophet will come, do we?" Vik said.

  "We don't. If we find Mebbers, though, then we may have enough time to clean out his nest and substitute BlackWing crew members," I responded. "Mebbers' people won't know how to fight the reanimated dead the Prophet will send against them. Opening fire and blasting them will only release the Prophet's disease and infect anyone close enough. We on the other hand, have handled this before."

  "On Campiaa," Zanfield agreed.

  "Prepare yourselves for battle," Travis stood. "When the other ships join us, we'll fold space to A'pelur. Good luck, everyone."

  The only coin I now kept in my pocket was the coin from Vogeffa II. The one I'd seen my mother's image in. I sat at my desk, fingering the coin and contemplating a coming battle. I considered what we had to work with, what might be thrown at us, and how to counter V'dar's cunning with that of our own.

  Was it Destiny? Did it happen on its own? I was thrown into split-time to see my mother again.

  That was the last thing I wanted—at such a volatile time.

  BlackWing X

  Travis

  Bear Wright and Amos Thompson arrived first, in BlackWing I. BlackWing II wasn't far behind, and two of the eight reptanoid brothers, Farzi and Nenzi, joined us in the ship's galley. Jett had only met them a time or two, so they were catching up over cups of tea or coffee.

  When VII arrived, I was surprised to see it captained by Lynx, the former Saa Thalarr. With him was Lion, a tall, well-muscled black man who was also retired from the Saa Thalarr. Lion grinned and almost crushed me in a hug; we hadn't seen one another in a while.

  "Jett, this is Lion, and this is Lynx," I introduced them. Jett's eyebrows went up when he clasped hands with Lion and then Lynx. They're powerful, he sent to me in surprised mindspeech.

  Very, I replied. Although they have a strict set of rules to follow. That doesn't keep them from protecting themselves or those around them, I was quick to add.

  I didn't say that Farzi and Nenzi were more powerful than that, and also had a set of rules to follow.

  Kooper could be here with them, I reminded myself. After the last time he'd faced the enemy on Campiaa, though, I felt as if it angered him that Randl had acted to keep him from breaking the Hierarchy's rules and tearing into everyone.

  I
had no idea how he'd have come out of that fight, if he'd done as he wanted to do. Was that why he was hanging back now? Because he was afraid of losing his temper—and his power—by breaking the rules?

  He had a lot to lose—I realized that. The most important thing in that could be his mate, Breanne.

  "Where Randl?" Nenzi asked in a reptanoid's standard, shortened version of Alliance Common.

  "Thinking in his office," I said. "He's probably looking at this from every angle, and calculating what the Prophet will do in any situation."

  "He do well with that," Farzi gave me a nod. I agreed with him. Lately, Randl had been a half-step ahead of the Prophet in most things. There'd been a few surprises, but how could there not be?

  Commander Randl Gage's Office, BlackWing XIII

  Zaria

  For a moment, I studied the pile of gold coins remaining on Randl's wooden behemoth of a desk, considering how these particular coins had come to be there.

  Randl still thought of them as coin trips.

  They weren't.

  They were designated for other assignments. "You know where you belong," I told them softly. "Go now. Time is short and you are needed."

  The coins disappeared quickly while I watched. This—had been long in the design and the doing. Many fates rested on those ancient plans. Allowing my shoulders to sag with a sigh, I turned my thoughts to Randl, and how things were going with him.

  There was no easy way in this for him, and the timing couldn't have been worse. We live or die together, as it has always been, I breathed the oath silently. It was a borrowed oath, from a long-ago time. It was true then, and true now. I had already waged war in this battle. Only time would tell if I needed to take a more active role.

  Now, to wait. Perhaps I would keep myself busy in the meantime.

  An idea formed.

  Yes.

  I folded space.

  Avii Castle

  Quin

  I leaned over the glass balcony outside Justis' and my suite, to get a closer glimpse of the tourist boats below. Somehow, six tourists had planned a concerted jumping, all of them landing in the water simultaneously.