He moved onto the next one—another maintenance worker, this one a supervisor.
What's (I have to) going (Where'd he go?) on? (make that payment.) Where (If he doesn't) am (come back,) I? (I need the overtime.) Why (I'll kill him.) is this (Have to get that present) happening? (for the boys.) Help me!
Next was one of another drudge.
Hope the (I love you.) company covers (I love you.) this. Hope she (I love you.) doesn't use this (I can sell this.) as an excuse (I love you.) to sleep (I bet the information net will pay a ton.) around. Hope (I love you.) I can get a (This'll be my pass off this rock.) good deal (I love you.) for this.
By the time he reached the final person, Abameta was ready to throw himself out a high-story window. These people's lives are so dull, he thought with disgust. All they cared about was money and their own little, pointless lives.
The last one, though, was a technician, the first non-menial staff member Abameta had come across.
Must protect (Help me!) the experiments. (They're all dying!) Must protect (It hurts!) the (The fire's everywhere!) scientists. Must (Someone please, help me!) protect the (I can't feel my legs!) computers. (The Shango-oti!) Must protect (It hurts so much!) the project. Ojiji (No! No! No!) must go (My body's on fire!) on, or they'll (Help me!) kill me. (I'm dying!)
That got Abameta's attention instantly. There was an intensity here that was missing from the others, especially given that—unlike the others—the anxiety this one felt was unrelated to his own injuries. Plus the terms Shango-oti and Ojiji jumped out at him.
Closing his eyes, he probed deeper.
Ojiji must go on.
Fabayo's gonna kill me!
Oh, mogbe, does this hurt!
Why won't they make the pain go away?
The Shango-oti is getting loose!
Someone call Fabayo, he'll need to tell his bosses about this!
Abameta smiled.
Oranmiyan sighed as he looked down at Abeje's supine form on the deck. He had been hoping that she would go down without a fight.
He should have known better. However, the sedative he gave her did its job.
For a minute, Oranmiyan just stared at her. It's been so long…
Abeje had perfect cheekbones and lips that were both full and pouty. Oranmiyan clearly remembered the taste of those lips. Right now, her straight brown hair was tied back in a ponytail, but Oranmiyan would always remember it splayed sloppily across the pillow after they made love.
The hospital gown she wore did nothing to compliment her lean figure, but it had shifted enough that Oranmiyan could see her toned arms. She was in even better shape than when last he saw her.
Oranmiyan knew Abeje a lot better than she knew herself. He was the one who taught her the forward and backward rolls during their training. Oranmiyan had quit the training before the end, once he realized what the Hegemony really was. In fact, leaving Abeje behind was his only real regret.
When Hembadoon first recruited him, he wouldn't have even needed mindwiping. He had been as patriotic a citizen of the Olodumare Hegemony as one could imagine, ready, willing, and eager to do whatever was necessary to protect the Hegemony from its enemies.
He was younger, then, and more foolish. That fateful day when he'd encountered that Eso super-soldier changed everything. For the first time, his mind was opened.
And for the first time, his mind was closed. After mindlinking with that experimental super-soldier—the only one of its kind, and one it took three trainees, Hembadoon, and two full-fledged Ori-Inu to bring down—other telepaths couldn't read Oranmiyan, and mindwiping stopped working. Oranmiyan had no love for the Oyo rebels, and had happily killed dozens of them both before and after his fateful mindlink, but he was grateful for whatever it was that that one experiment had done to him.
But what he learned from that mindlink destroyed the entire world that Oranmiyan had spent his life believing was the real one. He quit training, letting them think he was dead, and then moved on.
Since the discovery of Shango-oti, he knew that all Ori-Inu could enjoy the freedom that he had gained. Freedom to think. Freedom to fulfill their potential, not be stifled by Isembi's rules and regulations.
Freedom to act.
Bending to his knees, Oranmiyan gently picked up Abeje's sleeping form and brought her out of the room.
Soon she would be introduced to the wonders of Shango-oti.
And then she would be free, and they'd be together again.
It was in the middle of Eji-shift when Folami had compiled her report for the Oba.
Arriving on the flight deck, she saw that the command chair was empty, which meant the war chief wasn't on deck.
She called up the crew roster on her suit's computer, and found that Cavalry Master Ama was second-in-command of Eji-shift. She was currently staffing the tactical station.
"I need to speak to War Chief Tobi," Folami said without preamble.
Ama's contempt for Ori-Inu seeped through her every thought—not to mention the look of disgust she gave Folami. "He's not here."
With that, she turned back to her station.
Folami sighed. "Look, Cavalry Master, I don't care about your brother being recruited as an Ori-Inu or the fact that he got killed during a training exercise. Lots of people get killed in training exercises. It has nothing to do with me, or this mission, so kindly stop being a fool."
Now Ama grinned. "Oh, I was hoping you'd throw my brother in my face. See, he isn't in my service record, which means you got that by scanning me—and you can't do that. Wanna just report to the brig now?"
The cavalry master's glee at being able to punish someone for what happened to her brother hit Folami like a slap.
So she slapped back. "Sorry, Cavalry Master, but right now I'm on a priority mission from the Oba. I need to talk to the war chief so we can report our progress to Ife, and for the duration of this mission, I've been given extreme latitude on who I can scan. So unless you want me to start telling the rest of the shift what your taste in music is, which actor you hoard images of, and what you did at that pond when you were six, I suggest you tell me where the war chief is."
Ama's face fell, and Folami could feel the nervousness cascade across Eji-shift like a wave, because as soon as Folami left the flight deck, the cavalry master was going to take out her frustrations on her underlings.
Well, too bad. She should've just told me where the war chief is. Normally, Folami would never have been so cavalier with other people's thoughts, particularly those of her support. But she'd had enough of Ama's wholly unjustified superior attitude. Also, the report she had to give the Oba was urgent.
Through clenched teeth, Ama said, "The war chief is in his cabin."
"Thank you," Folami said with an exaggerated bow.
Then she thought about it, and decided to put her tenth-level to good use.
Closing her eyes, she concentrated, and temporarily shut down the minds of everyone on the flight deck, except for Cavalry Master Ama. Then she focused on each person's memory center.
After about half a minute, she opened her eyes. Ama was staring at her with fury.
"Calm down, Cavalry Master, I just did you a favor. All eight people on this flight deck no longer remember me coming in here and dressing you down, and no longer remember my bringing up potentially embarrassing facts from your past. Your authority is untarnished."
Ama simply glared at her, speechless.
Folami stepped close enough to Ama to smell the reconstituted eggs she'd had for breakfast. "Remember this favor the next time you decide to play games with an Ori-Inu. I could've done a lot more harm to you—instead I helped you. Because that's what I'm supposed to do, and what you're supposed to do for me."
Turning her back on the cavalry master, she said, "I assume I won't be seeing any reports on my scan from you."
Not waiting for an answer, she concentrated and released her hold on the flight deck crew.
Leaving it to Ama to explain
the subjective jump in time they'd all experienced, Folami took her second trip to Tobi's cabin. She had had to go to the flight deck in the first place because he'd gone quiet on communications. In all likelihood he was engaged in some manner of classified communiqué—but Folami's business superseded any other business he had right now.
This time, when she approached the door, it didn't slide open, and the screen to the door's right indicated that the privacy seal was on. The screen also indicated that Tobi had been made aware of her presence.
So she waited.
She sensed nothing but Tobi's normal thoughts on the other side. He didn't seem overly concerned—in fact, he was rather relaxed, and thinking about what he was going to have to drink.
Obviously, he wasn't involved in any kind of classified business, so Folami instructed the computer to override the seal, using the Orisha priority she'd been granted by the Oba.
The door slid aside to reveal Tobi sitting at his desk, his head framed by his weapons collection, a drink in his hand. He was in his regular uniform. Protocol meant that he would have to change into his dress uniform to speak with Isembi, but Folami suspected that the Oba wouldn't want to wait for this report.
"Let me guess," Tobi said, "you have a report for the Oba?"
"Good guess," Folami said with a wry smile as she entered the cabin, the door sliding shut behind her.
"You wouldn't have broken my seal for any other reason. That's one of the few things I like about you, Ori-Inu, you don't abuse your privileges."
Folami considered and rejected the notion of thanking him for the uncharacteristic compliment, instead getting right down to business. "We need to contact Ife immediately. And we shouldn't wait until you change—I've gotten the reports from the Ori-Inu on the ground, and it's not good."
"It wasn't especially likely to be." Tobi stabbed at a control on his desk. "Flight deck, this is Tobi."
"Flight deck."
"Cavalrywoman, set up the link to the Oba."
"Yes, sir."
Folami read what Tobi was thinking. Once this mission got underway, Tobi knew that instant communication with Oba Isembi might be vital, so he had the communications department and the Oba's technicians on Ife coordinate their efforts to provide a near-instant link between L'owuro and the Oba for the duration of the mission.
"Nice work," Folami said aloud.
Tobi snorted. "It's called being good at my job." He pointed at his rank insignia. "They don't just give these out for hanging around for a long time."
The flight deck came back. "Oba Isembi is ready for his audience with you, War Chief."
Tobi activated his holoviewer, which once again displayed the visage of the Oba.
"Shall I take it from the looks on your faces that you do not have good news?" Isembi asked sourly.
"I'm afraid not, my Oba," Folami said with a sigh. She had been hoping her face wouldn't be so easily read. However, the Oba had always preferred respectful honesty to falsehood, especially in matters in which he had taken a personal interest.
"Report."
"There are several people at the Kaduna Mining Corporate who are working on a secret operation called Ojiji. We've scanned half a dozen people, ranging from technicians and scientists to support staff, who work for this project. There is no mention of Ojiji in any official records either for Kaduna or anywhere else in the Hegemony."
That last sentence was said with a particular emphasis. She was hoping that this would turn out to be some kind of covert program the Oba had set up.
However, Isembi's next words, spoke with considerable venom, dashed that hope. "I've never heard of this—this 'Ojiji'."
Tobi then asked, "What's this project doing, exactly?"
Folami shot the war chief a look. He seemed genuinely curious about it, which surprised her. In Folami's experience, Tobi had never seemed the inquisitive type.
She said, "They're refining a gas called Shango-oti. Unsurprisingly, given the effects on Orisha Hembadoon, we've determined that it's a vapor designed to increase someone's telepathic abilities."
"And who exactly is running this project?"
With another sigh, Folami said, "We don't know. The local supervisor was a geologist named Fabayo, but he was just the point person at this refinery. He wasn't running the project, and he never told anyone who it was he reported to—said it was classified." Folami didn't bother to add that many of those scanned on the subject were somewhat bitter that they were kept unaware of the final authority over Ojiji.
She went on: "Unfortunately, Fabayo himself died in the explosion. His personnel record doesn't mention Ojiji, but it does mention that he was single, no living relatives, no friends. He was born on Ife, but he's lived all over the system since he got his doctorate—he went where the work was, and his work was focused entirely on geology."
"Ori-Inu," Tobi said impatiently, "the Oba doesn't need to know all that."
"On the contrary, War Chief," Isembi said with a small smile, "Folami is making it clear that Fabayo is a dead end, investigatively speaking. She is demonstrating her thoroughness in attempting to determine what, exactly, this rogue project is. I appreciate that."
After making a sidelong glance at Tobi, who was scowling, Folami continued. "My Oba, as far as we can tell, everyone who worked on Ojiji except for Fabayo assumed it to be legitimate. With your permission, I'd like to wait until Orisha Hembadoon regains consciousness before proceeding. We don't know how far he got in interrogating Kosoko."
"What does that have to do with anything?" Tobi snapped.
"According to the autopsy done on Kosoko, he had a transmitter implanted in his heart—a dead man's switch, which was linked to the explosive that destroyed the refinery."
"Abeje's mission was to track down an Oyo spy," Isembi said. "Obviously this Kosoko person was her target."
"Yeah," Tobi said, "but Hembadoon's report had him in prison—and gone completely insane. Anyhow, he's not likely to be part of this Ojiji."
Folami frowned, less at Tobi's tone, which she was used to, but his apparent surety that Kosoko wasn't connected to Ojiji. "Even so," she said, "his attack on the refinery may have been related to Ojiji."
"Don't be ridiculous. He was Oyo, like the Oba just said."
"If you two would like to continue this argument in private..." Isembi said still wearing the small smile, but now with a deadly undertone.
Folami straightened. Arguing in front of the Oba wasn't the wisest move for either of them—though, typically, Tobi didn't seem all that concerned. "Apologies, my Oba."
Isembi waved a hand as if he were swatting an insect. "No matter. The important thing now is to find out what happened to Abeje and who runs this Ojiji."
"Yes, sir," Folami said. "We—"
A double-toned klaxon blared through Tobi's cabin, the first tone long, the second short. That indicated an Orisha priority signal, which was just about the only circumstance under which the flight deck would interrupt this conversation.
"Sir, apologies for the interruption, but we're receiving an emergency call from the Ori-Inu on the surface."
"Which one?" Folami asked.
"All of them."
Tobi glanced at Isembi's image, and the Oba quickly said, "By all means, War Chief."
"Put it through, Cavalrywoman."
"Yes, War Chief. The signal's weak, though."
The cavalrywoman's words were proven correct a second later, as static blared through the speakers in Tobi's cabin. "...emergen...need backup immed...to..."
Folami recognized the voice as Abameta. He sounded panicked, something that didn't match his profile or her immediate impression of him at the briefing yesterday.
"Repeat, Abameta," Folami said, "you're breaking up."
Either the flight deck cleared some of the interference, or Abameta did on the ground. "We need backup—we're under attack."
"By who?"
"The missing Ori-Inu."
SIX
An unnamed shi
p
Oranmiyan wrapped his arms around Abeje, kissing her passionately, even as Abeje's parents dismissed her governess and a dozen Eso attacked her.
Shaking her head, Abeje tried to get her mind under control.
The memories were coming back in bits and pieces, and they confused and terrified Abeje.
Born on Oshun, a child of privilege. Sent into Ori-Inu training. Oranmiyan trained her, yet they were in bed together?
Did he take advantage of me?
No, that didn't make sense. Oranmiyan wouldn't do that to her.
He punched you in the face. He trapped you in a tube. He made you his prisoner.
No, he's making me free!
He faked his own death. He injected you with—with something. Shango-oti, he called it.
After that injection, when Abeje woke up, it wasn't in a darkened room or a claustrophobic tube, but a standard-issue cabin in a standard-issue transport. There was a desk, a bunk, and a commode. She woke up on the bunk, less concerned about where she was than who she was.
Oranmiyan came in and asked, "How're you feeling?"
"That—that is a very complicated question," she said honestly.
Unable to deal with what was inside her head, she projected outward, instead.
The ship had been on a parabolic orbit that took it back to Oshun after a day and a half. Abeje found that she was now able to hear so many thoughts she hadn't been able to hear before. One she recognized as Akanke, and she realized that the other Ori-Inu in the tubes had been awakened as well.
No, wait, she thought and concentrated. "I don't believe this—I can sense twenty other minds in the ship now. Sense them so perfectly clear. Oranmiyan, the sensation of a mind used to be a blip on a scanner, now—" She stared up at him. He was smiling broadly. "It's as if all twenty of them are right here, having a conversation with me." She shook her head. "It's like I've been color blind my whole life, and now I'm seeing a rainbow."
"That's the Shango-oti, sweets. It increases your telepathy, gives you all your memories back—it makes you free."
Abeje didn't know about that last part, but she couldn't argue with the first two. She could sense so much more, and so much more clearly, and her life from before Hembadoon recruited her was filtering back.
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