MindMage: BlackWing Pirates, Book 2

by Connie Suttle

  Wall cuffs were a sort of invisible chain—a connection between a device on a wall and a cuff wrapped around a prisoner's wrist. It couldn't be removed without the proper electronic keys, and those devices were kept elsewhere until needed.

  The cuffs effectively kept the prisoner within a set perimeter, and the perimeter could be adjusted as needed, so the prisoner couldn't approach guards delivering food or cleaning infirmary rooms.

  Charla had already attempted to attack Susan when she brought Barkins in; Susan's hen had subsequently retaliated against Charla.

  In fact, Charla still bore a red mark on her nose where Susan pecked her. I saw it when Jett and I walked into Charla's infirmary room to see her.

  "Well, Director Jett Riffler," Charla's voice held deep sarcasm. "Come to make me more miserable?"

  "He didn't, I did," I told her.

  "Who the hells are you?" she demanded.

  "I'm the one who pulled you the hells out of your house before you and your people died in it," I said.

  "You're fucking blind. How am I supposed to believe anything you say?"

  "Director," I turned to Jett, "I know how to convince Jewl that her daughter is alive."

  Kooper

  My opinions of Charla and Jewl were already low, but Randl's information sent them to the bottom of the Campiaan Sea.

  "She was mad at her mother, so she stole a piece of jewelry?" I asked Randl.

  "Yes. Afterward, she accused a servant of taking the necklace. Jewl had the servant killed and Charla buried the necklace outside Jewl's compound so she wouldn't be found out."

  "How does that convince Jewl that Charla's alive?" Jett asked.

  "I know where the necklace is. All we have to do is tell Jewl to look there," Randl replied.

  "Write the message," I scooted the comp-vid across the desk toward Randl. "I'm assuming you can add other things to make her believe the message is actually from Charla?"

  "No worries," Randl said and began tapping a message on the comp-vid. "I'll use her personal code this time, too. Charla didn't use the proper one last time."

  "I should have known," Jett growled. His opinion of Jewl and Charla hadn't improved, either.

  Our offer of immunity—at least during Conclave, didn't sit well with Jett or me, and I ground my teeth in frustration over it. This could be the only way we had of making sure the Prophet didn't get to all members of the Big Three, however. I hoped that once Randl laid eyes on Jewl, he'd know how to contact the other two.

  Even Charla didn't know that; Jewl always acted as the go-between in those dealings. Charla also didn't know her mother's location at any given time; Jewl moved constantly so she couldn't be tracked by the authorities.

  "Message sent," Randl tapped the screen with a finger and handed the comp-vid back to me. "We'll see how long it takes Jewl to respond."

  "How do you know she will?"

  "She will. Trust me."

  Mountain Retreat

  Randl

  "It wasn't just any piece of jewelry," I said. "It was a piece given to Jewl by Charla's father—before he was killed by CSD agents. Charla still doesn't know that—Jewl never told her."

  Vik and David found Dori and me after we made our way back to the retreat. My headache threatened to return, but I was staving it off with more tea and painkill. Kooper had already sent a message, telling me that Jewl contacted Charla, and a deal was in the works.

  Kooper didn't like the idea of offering immunity during Conclave, but that's all it was—a short period to sort out the trouble coming with the Prophet.

  We knew he was coming, we just didn't know how or when. I hoped that finding Adarr Gramm and Rale Linn would tell us the how, or at least part of it.

  When Jewl arrived on Campiaa, as she surely would, I'd be there as part of the greeting party to see what, if anything, I could glean from her. As for my power, I felt it stir, but it was still mostly dormant.

  It wasn't a good feeling, knowing that in a few days, I needed to be more ready than I'd ever been, because the Prophet certainly wouldn't have drained himself days prior to the execution of his plans.

  Tension was getting to some of the others, and I mentioned that to Vik and David. Dori sat beside me in the retreat's library, having tea with me while the four of us talked.

  "Kooper may blow a gasket if he doesn't calm down," David observed. It took a moment for me to understand what a gasket was. Dori hid her smile against my shoulder as I worked out the meaning of the unfamiliar phrase.

  "Randl, you need to come," Sabrina rushed into the library.

  "What?" I asked, rising swiftly. I could see what caused her fear, however. With my heart racing, I and the others followed her as she made a hasty retreat to the kitchen downstairs, where Travis and Trent were waiting.

  Travis

  Trent and I washed our hair two or three times per eight-day. This surprise had waited until the evening before, when we'd done our usual and hadn't bothered to look closely as we combed and re-braided our hair.

  A white streak—mine just to the right of center, and Trent's slightly to the left, now threaded its way through our black hair.

  Sabrina, almost in a frenzy, had rushed to find Randl, to see what he could tell us. As for a cause, we'd never experienced anything like this, and neither had our fathers or grandfathers.

  Randl skidded into the kitchen, closely followed by Sabrina, Vik, Dori and David. He blinked at me as I held up a mug of Falchani black in a mock salute.

  "Fuck," Randl sighed and came closer to get a better look at our hair. Color washed out of his face as he sat heavily on the chair next to mine and shook his head.

  "This is my fault," he said. "For asking you to help me during split-time."

  "But," Trent began, his gaze landing on Dori.

  "Dori didn't interfere, and I had her shielded," he explained. "I am really, really sorry."

  "But I thought," Trent reached beneath his shirt and pulled out his medallion. A grim expression settled on Randl's face as he studied it.

  "It worked, I think," Randl admitted. "If it hadn't, I believe things could be worse."

  "How much worse?"

  "I don't know. I just have that feeling, that's all. I thought I could take all those monsters out without your help, but it didn't turn out that way. If you'd joined the fight early on, well, you could have a full head of white hair, at the very least."

  "That's not good news," Trent went back to his tea. "I have to say, though, this is sort of cool. I like it."

  "You're joking," Sabrina snapped.

  "Not joking. It's an inch-wide hunk of hair. Easy enough to change if I want to do it," Trent shrugged. "Like I said, it's like a battle scar or something similar—to show I've engaged in something nobody else may have ever done."

  "I don't believe this," Sabrina tossed out a hand.

  "It changes nothing," I frowned at her. "It's as Trent says—it's a small price to pay to keep Randl alive. Face it, he's done more than that for all of us already."

  "Men," Sabrina huffed and stalked out of the kitchen.

  "I think she's in a snit," David said, looking up at Vik.

  "You think?" Vik said.

  They didn't touch on what concerned me, however. Was Sabrina so shallow that a few strands of white could affect more than how our hair looked to her?

  It was something to think about.

  P'loxett

  V'dar

  One success, one partial failure. The latest word was that Prince Amlis survived, but his heir didn't. A partial victory, to be sure, but the main objective—Randl Gage's father—was dead, confirmed by official reports.

  Perhaps that would teach him not to come against me again—I could hurt him in ways he couldn't imagine.

  "The reports on Adarr Gramm and Rale Linn—both are taking the bait," Varok set a comp-vid beside my chair and backed away.

  "Who knew that ancient gold and precious artifacts from Vogeffa II would tip the balance in our favor?" I chuc
kled. "It did us no good, as it could be traced back to us in inconvenient ways. It is good to find a use for it, no?"

  "It is as you say, Prophet," Varok bowed his head to me. He didn't like giving up treasure that he'd collected, although in this case, it was a brief necessity.

  "No need to worry," I waved a hand. "Once we have those two criminals in hand, all of it will come back to us, should we desire it."

  "Of course." Varok bowed again, but not before I saw the light of relief in his eyes.

  "Leave me now, I must attend to personal business," I waved Varok from the room. He scuttled away quickly, determined not to arouse my anger.

  No, my anger was at a simmering point for now. To celebrate my victory in killing the only living relative of my enemy, I resolved to visit the catacombs beneath my makeshift palace.

  So much was in store for the Alliances, and none of it was good—for them, anyway.

  Founder's Palace, Campiaa

  Travis

  "What happened?" Kooper studied the white streak in my hair before turning to examine Trent's.

  "Randl says it's the effect of interacting in the split-time he created."

  "I don't understand that in the least," Kooper waved off his concern. "We have a meeting scheduled with Jewl on Avendor—she agreed to connect with our people there. I want BlackWing X to rendezvous with Jewl. You'll bring her and two guards to Campiaa, for a reunion with her daughter and to work out a temporary deal during Conclave. She is to be treated as an ambassador, with complete immunity during her travels and while she's here."

  "Great. Are we taking the entire crew?"

  "Yes. You can fold space to get into Avendoran orbit, but you can't do that on the way back for obvious reasons. You'll have to hurry, too, to get back here in time to meet up with Zanfield Staggs before he marches into the Eclipse. Wyatt intends to go with you, in case a real diplomat is needed."

  "All right. I'll pull the troops together and we'll leave shortly."

  "Do it," Kooper nodded. "Keep me informed."

  "We will."

  Randl

  I understood that I'd be sending information to Kooper after we met Jewl and her escorts at Avendor's space station. Jett had already cleared her arrival, since Avendor was a member of the Campiaan Alliance.

  If Jewl or her escorts were infected, that information would go immediately to Kooper and Jett. BlackWing X would be traveling under her third disguise—Gloria I, which was registered in the Campiaan Alliance. The hull identification numbers and ship's frequency were already changed by the time Dori, Vik, David and I walked on board.

  Wyatt and Jayna were the last to arrive. After that, the ship's doors were sealed and we were on our way. Pap was left behind at the mountain retreat, but he wasn't alone; the other BlackWing crews, depending on their current assignments for Conclave, were there to keep him company.

  Travis

  We transported the ship to a place mere hours away from the Avendor space station. We made our way toward Avendor under more normal speed until we settled into an orbit there, waiting to dock when we received word that Jewl's vessel was arriving.

  They just received clearance to approach the space station, Kooper sent mindspeech. They'll arrive in two hours.

  We'll be there, I replied before ordering James and Nathan to take us in.

  At least the scanners should detect any weapons on board—if they were the usual sort. That was part of the agreement—Jewl could bring no weapons, only her guards.

  Nathan announced through the ship that we would be docking soon. Prepare yourselves, I sent. We're about to meet with one of the most wanted criminals in the Campiaan Alliance.

  Kooper should have gotten identification on the guards. Trent stated the obvious.

  Jewl had two Blevakians flanking her. Blevakians were four-armed behemoths who reportedly had six brain lobes instead of the usual, humanoid four. They wouldn't need weapons if they had extensive training in hand-to-hand combat.

  They're brothers, Randl informed us as we studied Jewl and her guards across the space that divided us. Electronic motors whined as a walkway was being moved into place; it would allow us to cross to Jewl's berth at the station.

  Only Trent, Wyatt, Randl and I had left the ship to greet Jewl and her party. Her ship would be leaving shortly, while we transported her to Campiaa.

  We didn't wear our uniforms; the agreement was to travel on a neutral ship provided by the Campiaan Alliance. Jewl wanted nothing to do with ASD or CSD troops. Therefore, we dressed in a transport ship's uniforms instead.

  Jewl bore little resemblance to Charla, so Charla must look like her father. She was also shorter than I expected—perhaps four inches taller than Mom, who was only five feet tall.

  Black hair hung in waves down her back, while gray eyes flashed her displeasure for where she was. The stone-faced Blevakians beside her looked like giants in comparison.

  The metal walkway clanged into place between us and the gate on both sides lowered, indicating it was safe to cross.

  Jewl approached us; the walkway was barely wide enough to accommodate her and the Blevakians, who refused to allow her to walk ahead of them.

  Just what we needed—loyal servants protecting criminals. Wyatt stepped forward to greet Jewl; Randl moved behind Wyatt's left shoulder. Trent and I stood back, hoping we wouldn't have to fight our way out of this.

  "Welcome to the Gloria I," Wyatt spoke first. "We'll make your trip as comfortable as possible."

  "Who are you to address me?" Jewl's tone was haughty.

  Don't, I sent, but my word of warning wasn't needed.

  "This is my servant," Randl stepped smoothly in front of Wyatt. Randl realized quickly that Jewl didn't need to know that Wyatt San Gerxon had come to greet her.

  "And who are you?" Jewl demanded of Randl. Wyatt took another step backward, away from Jewl and her guards. The situation had become cold and strained without warning.

  "I see you found the necklace," Randl said, as if he didn't feel Jewl's anger and the threat of intimidation from the two Blevakians.

  Jewl's hand went immediately to her throat. The necklace had to be beneath the black, raw silk tunic she wore; it wasn't worn on the outside.

  "Greetings, Mak and Jak," Randl nodded to the Blevakians. "I trust your families are well and thriving?"

  It was a standard Blevakian greeting, because both responded before they were even aware that they did so.

  "Madam Yarro, your trip will be pleasant, I assure you, and your daughter is waiting anxiously for your arrival. Your safety is guaranteed by both Alliance Security Directors, and you will be allowed to leave Campiaa when Conclave is over." Randl focused on Jewl again.

  "With nobody following me?" Jewl's left eyebrow lifted.

  "Of course. Now, time is short, but sufficient for you and your guards to inspect the ship and your quarters before we sail," Randl continued, his voice smooth and sure.

  "Are you blind?" Jewl asked.

  "In some ways, Madam," Randl confirmed. "In others, not blind at all."

  And that's putting it mildly, Trent's voice huffed in my mind.

  "We have refreshments waiting, when you are satisfied with your transport," Randl held out a hand toward the ship.

  "We will certainly inspect it," Jewl said, although the anger and ice in her had decreased dramatically.

  "Then come, we have gishi fruit and tea aboard," Randl said.

  And that's how you handle a criminal—give them gishi fruit, Wyatt's mental chuckle made me force back a smile.

  Although Jewl remained haughty, the Blevakians went about their business of inspecting the ship with a more casual attitude. Who knew that greeting them the proper way would smooth those wrinkles?

  When our three guests were settled into the VIP berth, and a tray of tea, tiny sandwiches and gishi fruit was provided, we disembarked from the Avendor space station and got underway.

  Randl

  You're sure she's not infected? Kooper asked
.

  She isn't, and neither are her Blevakian guards.

  Blevakian guards—plural?

  Yes.

  It's difficult to entice them away from their homeworld for any reason. Why are they working for her?

  There's a recession on Blevakia right now. They're supporting their families this way.

  Well, dip me in caramel sauce and serve me in a cone, Kooper grumbled. I could hear the wheels turning in his mind, though. He was considering whether any Blevakian could be lured into working for the ASD.

  It depends on the Blevakian, I said, letting him know I understood his thoughts.

  Right. Get out of my head, Gage.

  Out now, sir.

  At least you called me sir.

  Of course, sir.

  All right, now you're just annoying.

  Randl out, I sent.

  Thank the gods.

  That's funny, sir.

  Campiaa

  Kooper

  "Consider it house arrest while your mother is here," I told Charla, who eyed me warily before surveying her surroundings.

  Teeg had an empty suite in the San Gerxon Hotel and Casino—although he no longer had any dealings with the management of it; Wyatt and Dormas did that.

  It took up much of the top floor, and only a fourth of it was allocated to Charla and Jewl. It was guarded and would be, day and night. I'd also placed a shield around the quarters they'd occupy—in case anyone had thoughts of escaping.

  I was waiting to tell Jewl about the Prophet and his machinations after she arrived; the information could cause her to panic.

  She thought that ordinary kidnappers had almost killed her daughter.

  That idea would change soon enough. I needed contact information on Adarr Gramm and Rale Linn—as of yesterday. We had a narrow window of time to get things done before Conclave began.

  So many thoughts ran through my mind. What if the Prophet had already taken Gramm and Linn? How could we combat the full force of both criminal elements, in addition to whatever the Prophet could do?