Even more incredibly, each of the Twice Bound became impervious to the attempts of more-powerful psionics to dominate their minds. The phenomenon made a strange kind of sense once Khal Teth thought about it. Normally a psionic could bond another if his mind had greater power than the opponent. But each of the Twice Bound had also bonded Jack, adding his psionic power to theirs. That meant that the only person capable of bonding any of them was someone who could forcibly bond Jack and, by association, Khal Teth, a feat that was the exclusive domain of the Circle of Twelve.
There were limitations. A weak mind could not channel the power of Khal Teth’s brain without destroying itself. But the fact that no one could gain mental dominance of any Twice Bound gave each connected citizen his or her own special brand of power. And though Jack might eventually reach a limit beyond what Khal Teth could handle, he could currently channel the sum of all of their psionic power.
So, for the time being, Khal Teth would continue to honor his most recent bargain with The Ripper, as the man surreptitiously built his army of followers in these cold lands where only the Dhaldric who had the poor fortune of being assigned to these duty stations would choose to live. Until Khal Teth was named overlord, he would continue to let this most dangerous of men do things his way.
CHAPTER 33
“Now that be a mob,” said Captain Moros, pointing at the line of Khyre people who were making their way along the steep mountain trail into Jack’s remote canyon campsite.
Jack nodded as he shrugged the coat’s collar up to keep the sleet pellets from sliding down the back of his neck. This Dhaldric body might be great in the water, but it was ill suited for dealing with the harsh weather on Quol’s back side. He’d even draped a thick scarf over his head to keep his ears from freezing off.
Moros watched, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Ripper, you show poor appreciation for my homeland’s balmy weather.”
Jack ignored the good-natured jab. What he had seen so far of the Basrillan continent reminded him of springtime in Norway, with its deep fjords and high, glacier-capped mountains. But at the lower altitudes, the meadows were filled with waist-high turquoise grass and brilliant orange flowers.
He had chosen this particular spot for encampment because of its sheltered beauty and abundance of fish in the stream that wound its way through the broad meadow. Captain Moros had selected fifty Khyre men and women from among Jack’s Twice Bound followers to set up the camp, including the transparent hypertent at its center. It reminded Jack of a megatech version of one of the old-time revival camps that his mom had taken him to see when he was in grade school.
Funny. Despite her best efforts, religion had never stuck to him. Now here he was, offering up his own brand of the gospel, promising to lead these people out of slavery if only they would sneak out of their cities to pledge their lives to him. Hopefully he wouldn’t get them all killed for their trouble. But for a chance to save Earth, Jack would risk it.
As the last of the group made their way into the big tent, Jack stood up from the rock he had been sitting on.
“Well, Captain Moros,” he said, “it looks like it’s time to welcome some brand-new Twice Bound. How many will this make?”
“With this mob of five hundred and seventeen, the Twice Bound be more than three thousand strong.”
Jack nodded and began walking from his overlook down to the ceremonial tent. Three thousand was far fewer than he needed, but to avoid concentrating his Twice Bound in any one location, he had traveled from city to city, like a wandering minstrel. And all that travel slowed him down.
Captain Moros had 350 Earth years of experience recruiting his ships’ crews, also developing detailed knowledge of the Basrillan coastal towns and cities. Thus he had been instrumental in prescreening and recruiting candidates to join Twice Bound ranks, especially targeting those with exceptional technical or military skills. With Khal Teth’s cooperation, Jack searched the mind of each new recruit during the double bonding, and the prescreening cut down on the number of applicant rejections.
As Jack neared the tent, he could feel the minds of those who awaited his arrival. He was getting surprisingly good at accessing the psionic abilities of Khal Teth’s brain, most likely the result of closely observing how the Altreian performed each bonding. Thousands of repetitions over the last several orbdays had unlocked an understanding of myriad psionic processes, like how to search another’s mind for hints of betrayal and how to shield one’s thoughts from other telepaths.
Khal Teth was conditioning his mind, much as Jack had conditioned Khal Teth’s body. He was still a neophyte, but repetition worked wonders. As Jack followed Captain Moros into the big tent, the gathered crowd grew silent at the sight of this Dhaldric barbarian who offered them freedom in return for a pledge of fealty.
Then Jack climbed up onto the platform where, one by one, those gathered would step up to become Twice Bound. But in so doing, he sharpened his focus. For the next several hours, as he bonded with these new applicants, he would use this opportunity to enhance his psionic skills.
Parsus felt the mind of the high lord who approached from the hallway and adjusted the nanoparticle door to allow her entrance to his chambers. If he had ever decided to take a mate, it would have been Shabett, but such a merging would only have weakened him. To rely upon the loyalty of another only provided an opportunity for betrayal, even if she was the civilian head of the Altreian military. He had brought home this lesson to his twin brother.
She stepped into his audience chamber dressed in a flowing chartreuse gown, its narrow straps crossing her upper arms but leaving her shoulders bare. Glittering fire-agates hung in loops from the delicate tips of her swept-back ears, complementing the beauty of her silky-smooth scalp. When her eyes met his, she inclined her head so casually that he almost thought he had imagined it.
“Overlord,” she said, her mellifluous voice enhanced by the sending from her powerful mind.
Rumor had it that Shabett could bewitch male or female with but a whisper, yet another reason why Parsus had never let her lips anywhere near his ear.
“Shabett,” he responded, “it is a little late for a formal audience, do you not think?”
“I bear disturbing news from Basrilla.”
As was standard for all members of the High Council, her mental guard was up, and he could draw no hint of what she was about to reveal. The continent of Basrilla was an unpleasant place for any Dhaldric to be assigned, but it provided the industrial infrastructure and major land-based support facilities for the Altreian space fleet. Basrilla and its sister continent, Janiya, formed Quol’s industrial hub and were home to the bulk of the Khyre population.
Thanks to the way the Altreian political system was structured, no trouble worthy of High Council interest had arisen there for thousands of cycles.
“What is it?”
“I have received a series of reports from smaller towns and cities, mostly along the Basrillan coastal region, of growing numbers of our Khyre citizenry being freed from their masters’ bonds.”
“There is nothing unusual about that. Why isn’t this being handled by the Basrillan political hierarchy?”
Shabett seated herself on a comfortable divan that was set at an angle to the chair in which Parsus lounged.
“That would be the usual way of things. But these Khyre subsequently fail to show up at their assigned places of work. And there have been isolated incidents of theft of military property.”
“What?” Parsus felt his temples throb. Such a thing was unthinkable. “How many Khyre are we talking about?”
“Because some of their masters are unwilling to reveal such weakness, a precise estimate is unavailable. But it is certainly in the thousands, and, like a sickness, it is spreading.”
Unable to remain sitting, Parsus rose and began slowly pacing, his brow wrinkled in thought. Nothing like this had happened since the establishment of the Altreian Empire. He couldn’t understand how such an event was
even possible.
“Surely we have recaptured and interrogated some of these freed Khyre.”
“A small number have been arrested, but the local interrogation efforts have gleaned little in the way of useful information.”
“Why not?”
“These Khyre refer to themselves as the Twice Bound and appear to be impervious to all mental probes or to forceful rebonding.”
This brought Parsus to a halt. “Have you sent some of our senior inquisitors to take charge of these interrogations?”
“As soon as I learned of it, I dispatched three of my best. They should be arriving at their destinations shortly. In the interim, local officials have requested permission to try some long-banned physical-interrogation techniques.”
“No,” said Parsus. “Your inquisitors will be there long before any such archaic methods could produce results. You said that we have gained little useful information. What have we learned about these Twice Bound and their leaders?”
“Only that they appear to be structured in small, independent cells. It is unclear how they receive their instructions. There have also been some outlandish thirdhand rumors that appear to be little more than myth.”
“Enlighten me.”
Shabett crossed one leg over the other and laced her fingers as her eyes found his.
“There have been scattered reports of a wandering Dhaldric vagabond, a madman who patterns himself after Dhaldric warriors of old and calls himself The Ripper. It is ridiculous, but the sightings have some correlation to the rise of the Twice Bound.”
“And what does this vagabond reportedly look like?”
“A tall, heavily muscled male wearing ragged clothes and with two ivory knives strapped to his sides.”
Parsus felt a wave of relief pull a laugh from his lips. “There is little chance of that being the source of our Basrillan problem.”
Shabett rose from the divan and smiled. “Agreed. Now, I must be getting back to my work. I will inform you as soon as my inquisitors have acquired the information we need.”
Parsus inclined his head, dismissing Shabett, then watched as she left his chambers, before resuming his seat. For a moment during her rendition of this unusual problem, he had suffered the fear that somehow Khal Teth had survived to plague him. But the description of this Ripper character had eliminated that possibility, remote as it had been.
No, his brother was good and truly dead. And soon, Parsus would have the answers that would enable him to crush this minor insurrection before it could become more than a minor annoyance.
Lord Inquisitor Grellen stood at the forefront of his two high inquisitors, all dressed in the white robes of office, staring down at the five Khyre who proclaimed themselves Twice Bound. At High Lord Shabett’s command, these prisoners had been brought to the port city of Ashelan so that her interrogators could gather the information she required in a single session. The three females and two males were shackled hand and foot to the red prison bench that stretched along the wall. As he paced slowly in front of them, tilting his head to study their faces, each of the five met his gaze. No trace of fear showed in their eyes.
Grellen smiled. That was about to change in ways beyond their comprehension.
At his signal, Inquisitor Trantor seated himself in front of the female prisoner on the far left side of the line while Inquisitor Quoran sat facing the male Khyre farthest to the right. Grellen stepped back to observe the finest of his high inquisitors at work. Less-advanced civilizations interrogated prisoners separately so that they couldn’t synchronize their lies, a time-consuming process that had no place in his world. Much better to let those who would be next observe what was happening to their compatriots, building unbearable dread. The mind was a beautiful thing to break.
He inhaled and released a slow breath, drawing the prisoners’ eyes to him.
“Do any of you, who call yourselves Twice Bound, care to make a statement that might ease the tribulation that awaits you?”
The heavyset Khyre female on the left spat a wad of phlegm that spattered Inquisitor Trantor’s white shoes. Grellen stared at her. Whatever joining the Twice Bound had done, it certainly had not improved this prisoner’s manners.
“Anyone else?” he asked.
When none of the others responded, Grellen spread his hands.
“All right, then. Let us begin.”
Grellen sensed the powerful mental probes from his two high inquisitors cut into the brains of their subjects to reveal the secrets hidden beneath, feeling no sympathy. These prisoners had already missed their opportunity to cooperate with the authorities and, in so doing, had decided to place themselves at the mercy of the high inquisitors.
When the probes failed to pull screams from their subjects, a frown clouded Grellen’s features. At both ends of the bench, the subjects of those probes stared into the faces of their interrogators and smiled. As if on cue, all five spoke in unison.
“We are the Twice Bound. Pledged to The Ripper as he pledged to us. Your fear marks his coming.”
Grellen felt his eyes widen in shock. His inquisitors increased their concentration, focusing all their psionic might on piercing the mental barrier that blocked them from the minds of these Khyre. He watched in fascination as his inquisitors switched targets, their jaws clenching with the mental strain. But despite their best efforts, the chant of the Twice Bound continued, unabated.
Taking two strides forward, Grellen halted before the prisoner in the center and gazed deep into her eyes, focusing all the psionic power of a high lord into her mind. The time for half measures was at an end.
Jack was getting better at manipulating the entanglement of his mind with Khal Teth’s. Tonight he and his thirteen Khyre commandos moved through Ashelan’s dark alleys on their way toward his chosen target. And as he moved, he hazed the minds of all who would have otherwise observed them.
The port city of Ashelan was Quol’s second largest, with a population of just over twenty-three million. Although the Khyre formed the vast majority of its population, the Dhaldric formed its political elite, as they did everywhere on this Altreian home world. Whereas the inland third of Ashelan was as beautiful as anything on Quol, with the exception of the Parthian itself, the city grew steadily more industrial as one progressed toward the port.
The vast dock area reminded Jack of an alien version of the shipping centers of East Asia, albeit with advanced technologies that included a skyport that supplied the spaceports and starships of the Altreian fleet. Still, the locale had that gritty feel that came with heavy industry. The contrast between the shadowy night and the brightly lit work areas almost made him feel at home.
An outbound shuttlecraft lit the sky as it ascended from the distant spaceport, followed several seconds later by the deep rumble of a sonic boom. At street level, there was only pedestrian traffic, but aircars, buses, and transports zipped overhead, landing or taking off vertically from the designated landing pads sprinkled throughout city plazas and rooftops.
Unlike on Earth, where video-monitoring equipment was ubiquitous, there had been no requirement for monitoring the people of Quol since the ascension of the Dhaldric race to power. Once their mental control of the population had been established, crime had all but ceased to exist except for the occasional misuse of power. And when the rare crime did occur, the government inquisitors quickly solved it, eliminating the culprits from the Altreian utopia. Tonight Jack intended to weaken the glue that held their perfect world together.
Jack brought the group to a halt where the alley opened into a broad plaza, its dimly illuminated walkways intended to enhance the view of the night sky. In all the Khyre cities that Jack had visited, they had built these open spaces to celebrate the heavens. On this side of Quol, without the magenta illumination from Altreia, the night appeared even more spectacular. Backdropped by a spray of stars and planets, the lacy orange Krell Nebula and Quol’s purple moon took his breath away. But this intentional minimization of light pollution
gave Jack what he really wanted: the dark.
Across the plaza from where he crouched, the low facade of the House of Inquisition rose to a squat roofline, atop which the silhouette of several government aircraft sat unlit and unmoving. Jack studied his objective, then issued a mental command that sent all his commandos into their final assault positions. Moros dropped to a knee beside him, his own pulse weapon at the ready.
So far so good. Now they just had to wait for the go signal. There was no chance they would miss it when it appeared.
The realization that he could not penetrate any of these Khyre minds staggered the lord inquisitor. What could it mean? Was a member of the High Council behind this insurrection? There were only a few members of the High Council who had more psionic ability than Lord Grellen: Overlord Parsus and High Lord Shabett the most powerful among them. Clearly the overlord would not incite such insurrection. Shabett or one of the other high lords could have initiated a plan to overthrow Parsus, but Grellen didn’t believe it.
That left one, distinctly uncomfortable, possibility. If Khal Teth was not dead . . . well, it was time to find out the truth of that. If mental enticements were not sufficient to extract the information he required, then he would have to fall back on more-primitive means.
Lord Inquisitor Grellen issued his mental orders to the senior officer who waited just outside the door of the interrogation room. Several moments later she stepped through the nanoparticle door, set a black case on the table, and departed.
Grellen touched the magna-clasp and lifted the lid, revealing an assortment of carefully arrayed tools, edged, pointed, and blunt. He lifted them, one after the other, carefully watching the faces of the captives for signs of fear or revulsion that he could not pick up from their minds.
The Altreian Enigma (Rho Agenda Assimilation Book 2) Page 21