The Fireborn Chronicles

by Mary Andrews

  “Yesterday?” Ira paused, then looked around. “These are your quarters. How did I get here? What happened?"

  Tristen watched as his mind began to clear. He plopped into one of the chairs across the room from her.

  I'm sorry sir, she began. I heard your confusion, then the others grew nearer, and when I asked if you needed help, you came to me. When I shielded you they left, and their absence helped, but you were ... you were upset and disoriented. You said the healer told you to sleep, so I helped you sleep, and I continued to shield you while you slept, sir. There were no successful intrusions. The Master's presence and the use of his system disrupted their reception. She fell silent and began to tremble.

  Her fear unsettled Ira. He sat dumbfounded. “The station PSI Patrol was scanning yesterday?"

  Yes, sir.

  “Did they detect you?"

  No sir. The Master ordered me to remain unseen ... undetected.

  Ira nodded. “I see.” He paused, a little embarrassed. “But why did you lay with me? You had to have known how dangerous that was."

  Tristen seemed confused. I was cautious, and it was what you wanted. I felt it, sir.

  Ira blushed. “Look, I'm not like that. I can't share physical contact like others.” He felt her hesitation, but she made no response. Standing there in the room's soft lighting she looked lovely, her hair glistening and eyes so gentle. “Stop it!” he suddenly demanded.

  Tristen allowed the illusion to drop away and stood trembling before him.

  It annoyed Ira that she was still so beautiful, her long white gown even more flattering in its simplicity. “Don't do that again,” he told her.

  She recoiled from his admonitions. I am sorry, sir, I should not have presumed.... Her voice trailed off as he drew nearer.

  Ira felt flustered. He had allowed his feelings to sift through to her senses, his loneliness, compassion, confusion and his attraction to her. He shook his head. It was becoming harder and harder to distance himself from her. With each contact, they were becoming more and more attuned to each other.

  No longer wanting or needing to inflict his will upon her, he gathered his thoughts to try again. “You are an invaluable asset to this team,” he began. “I hadn't realized just how much I needed another of my own kind before. Your presence has strengthened me. You cannot ‘presume’ too much with me. We are a team here, and this can become your home now, Tristen. If you want it to be."

  Ira felt a panic wash over her. “What's wrong?"

  You know that I can make no plans, she finally answered.

  “Yes, yes, duty and destiny. I know, but there are no specifics to your mission now, are there? Your talents could not have been more tailor-made for our purposes here! Don't you realize you have become a major part of this Dark Ops Team? We are one of the most elite Special Agents in Gov service. Your influence with us will be felt across the universe. THAT sounds like destiny to me, and so perhaps our futures are intertwined!” He paused for a moment and watched her fidget before him. Her sadness became tangible. “You will be released whenever your mission is completed. What will you do with your life then?"

  Tristen looked startled. “I've never considered that before. It is possible that I'll be ‘retired’ for the greater good. It is not always feasible that the Chosen can be reintegrated into society. The Oracles may decree ... ."

  Ira interrupted, “You will have a place to go and a life to live of your own by then. There will be no reason for you to reintegrate anywhere. You could be set free.” He made it a point to look directly into the mirrors on the wall behind her so she would see the serious look on his face. “You might start thinking on it,” he suggested and turned to leave. “I really need to check in with Rael. Again, thank you for taking care of me.” He paused by the door and then turned again to face her. She still stood beside the bed. “But perhaps we shouldn't tell any one about the death thing. I'd just as soon it not be added into the team's arsenal. I'm still not very comfortable with that."

  Yes sir, she replied quietly.

  “I wish you would call me by my name,” he said softly, “Call me Ira, please."

  Tristen nodded. Yes ... Ira.

  He sighed. “Thank you, I'm going to shower and change now. How about something to eat, or would you rather rest? Do you need to eat or rest first? I can bring you a tray."

  She still stood and watched him as stoically as always. I'll be ready when you return, Ira, sir, she finally replied.

  Ira paused, again. “You know, I've never seen you smile.” He shook his head and sighed. “Oh well, I'll be back to get you in a while.” He turned and reached for the door touch plate. The lock released with a click. The sound annoyed him. He did not like to see her caged like this.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 8

  The Grand Inquisitor, as he was known, had never really liked Rael very much. No answer ever satisfied him. Every question returned repeatedly. In fact, Rael wondered why he should bother to answer at all anymore. For what felt like the hundredth time he was asked to recount the events of the last few days.

  Rael slammed his hand onto the Inquisitor's desk and explained, yet again, how his Wall Master had revived the ambassador and found signs of PSIonic tampering and that they were anxious to return to the crime scene to resume following leads to what they suspected to be a ring of PSIonic renegades. The Inquisitor did not seem impressed.

  Finally, Rael stormed away from him. Facing one of the room's hidden wall cameras, he raised his voice. “Enough of this! I will not compromise my leads any further. I want to speak to whoever's in charge now. NO, make it the new Ops Commander ... and right now or this meeting ends. My investigation is time sensitive. If you're too busy to deal with me, I'll be on my way.” He started toward the door. “I'll report my findings when the investigation is complete. I have nothing for you now anyway."

  The Inquisitor's com-light flashed, and a male voice issued from it. “Have Commander Pointe report to Ops Com head office Level 2."

  Rael didn't waste any time. He headed for the main compound, leaving the furious Inquisitor ranting to whomever was on the line. Finally, I can get some answers of my own.

  On Level 2, the halls were quiet and sparsely traveled. The new Ops Commander's name had yet to be posted. Things like this were always predetermined.

  Rael pressed the buzzer and braced for whatever or whoever waited within. The door chimed, scanned for approval and slid open to allow him in. He froze in the hallway.

  Sitting across the room behind an impressively large desk, was Lythia. “Don't get too happy yet. I'm still fighting to make this more than an interim position. Care to join me, or do you want to just stand there at the door?"

  Rael sighed his relief and pulled up a chair across from her. “You look good there. Perhaps you should stay."

  “I plan to, and your willingness to work for me is necessary to strengthen my case. Momma M was grooming me. She left me a power base with her connections and allies, but she had a few wild cards for me to deal with, like you and your team. Are you going to be a point of contention for me or an asset?"

  Rael leaned back in his seat and thought for a moment. “If I'm right, my current investigation ought to guarantee your place here. But for now, I'm not talking. I don't know who's involved, but it's big—intergalactic—in fact. Just leave my team alone long enough for me to do this, and you'll be the first to know what we find."

  Lythia shook her head. “Rael, you're risking everything. If I'm not granted this position, then everything Momma Mahata worked for will be jeopardized."

  “I know,” he answered. “I'm one of them.” He stood up and looked toward the doorway. “You do whatever you need to do to hold on here. My crew can handle it, and when I complete this mission, I'll return to set everything right, ok? Just trust me, and it'll be safer for everyone."

  “Mahata told me to trust you and your judgment at all cost. I hope she was right because this is a bad time for me to be gambling.�
� She shook her head and waved him on.

  Rael nodded, “I know, just try to give me some time."

  She sighed and leaned back in her chair. “You'll be the death of me yet."

  Rael looked her directly in the eye, “I hope not,” he said softly, then started back to the Nemesis.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 9

  As always, the crew met in the common room. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee permeated the ship, and this morning's breakfast was much more lavish than usual. Supplies from the station had included fresh fruit, a rare treat at any time. Laynald had scrutinized and tested everything, and with his approval, the morning feast began.

  Glad to be back aboard the Nemesis and on the mission again Rael had set them on a return course to Tanivol. But for now he decided to let his team luxuriate before resuming work in earnest.

  He was pleased to see Ira looking well rested. And he smiled, noting how well he and Tristen were now shadowing each other's movements back and forth as they ate and drank.

  Laynald had eaten quietly and had finished early. He also sat watching them, but he wasn't smiling. He worried that young Ira was becoming too enamored with Tristen and would be unable to handle her if she turned on the team. He suspected subterfuge on a PSIonic level could become very dangerous and hard to manage. That worried him even more now. He frowned for a moment. He'd really come to like Ira, but he'd buried friends before.

  Ira found himself extremely sensitive to the room today. He felt Laynald's worried attention but decided to do nothing about it. Laynald always worried. That was his way. Rael seemed to be holding up pretty well, all things considered. Ira flashed momentarily back to the sight of Momma M standing in the light. Fear and an exhilaration, of sorts, washed through him.

  Tristen's “voice” called him back. Be careful what you dwell on, she warned.

  Ira startled.

  Rael was speaking. “All right, if everyone's about through eating, I guess we may as well get started."

  The table-screen hummed to life. “I've been doing quite a few extensive searches these last few days. A massive cross search of them has provided a name to our target."

  A man's face appeared on the screen alongside a long list of names dates and places. “This is T.L. Harbringer,” Rael began. “He's called the Corporate Overlord because for the last couple of hundred years he has systematically gained control of every single one of the Gov's core corporate planets. Then with those resources at his command, he designed The Hive system and implemented its construction on a purposely-vacated planet, strategically located to protect and broaden his power base. He is currently the most powerful man in existence, but nobody seems to notice him."

  Laynald tapped on the tabletop, “Where does he come from originally? How far back have you traced him?"

  Rael grimaced. “You're gonna love this, the trail grows cold at none other than Tanivol. Seems that our Mr. Harbringer is also responsible for the development of its planetary pleasure industry. Which I believe brings us right back to our PSI ring, and they were looking for me.” Rael paused for a moment before continuing. “All right, why me? Well I kept asking myself where I fit into this, and then Momma M mysteriously died and left me an interesting piece of documentation proving he was responsible for my real mother's death. Seems that her life's work, Pointe Industries, fell victim to one of his more hostile takeovers. Harbringer assaulted, raped and abducted her and then consigned her to The Hive Planet.” Rael went on to reveal his findings from Mahata's package.

  “Wait a minute, are you Harbinger's son?” Ira asked.

  Rael smiled. “If so, I won't be for much longer."

  “Won't his demise leave a substantial amount of wealth and power up for grabs?” Laynald asked. “Hmmm. Does he have any other heirs?"

  Rael scowled at him. “I'll worry about that later. For now, let me finish up this little melodrama. Seems that the Corporate Overlord who controls The Hive must have become aware of a rogue operator who could compromise their system. I figure my existence has finally become either an embarrassment or a threat to some very powerful people."

  Laynald tapped on the screen lightly. “The Hive system is The Gov's most highly cherished service. It provides a place for Gov planets to relocate their undesirables and criminal elements."

  “They're addicted to the work drugs,” Ira complained.

  “Euphoria is an excellent incentive. With these undesirable elements removed, all planetary economies thrive. The Hive has become indispensable. And, with direct linkage through each of The Gov's planetary communications systems, they provide a full time workforce with unlimited availability—the ultimate temp service. You could rule all things big and small in the known universe,” Laynald told Rael.

  Rael ignored Laynald's mercenary moment. “Yes, it's a brilliant concept, but my escape from The Hive is exactly what put Momma M in danger's way. She managed to convince The Gov to let her raise and train me into their service. With me in their pocket, I guess they believed that the universe was just a little more balanced. But it put Mr. Harbringer in direct contention with her. She protected herself and me by immersing us into The Gov Ops system. Her position afforded her protection until now, but I think he's started moving to expand his power base deeper into The Gov system.” Rael paused. “I already have enough reasons to see him dead, and I'm trying not to take this all so personally, but I'm having trouble just now. How does all this sound to you?"

  Laynald studied the screen on the table top, “What species is this guy?” He pointed at the listings. “Look at the time spread here. He never changes. Not just any one can manipulate planetary economies like he has done either. We need to know where he came from."

  Rael frowned. “Tanivol financial reports only identified him as an off-worlder back in 3503."

  Ira tilted his head, comparing the information on the screens. “Rael, can you map these sightings over a star chart?"

  The screen flickered, and a star grid appeared, displaying each sighting across the star fields. Laynald stood and leaned over the additional table screen. “Looks like he hopped from planet to planet, finishing with one and moving to the next. The man's a financial genius! Look how he leaves each world. I see design in this. He has a plan, a specific direction, he's driven to achieve financial order everywhere he goes."

  Rael watched in silence, giving everyone time to study his findings. His gaze fell on Tristen. She looked uncomfortable. “What is wrong?” he asked her.

  She slowly shook her head.

  Ira concentrated on Harbringer's pictures still scattered across the screens. He felt her anxiety spike. “You know him?"

  No, sir, she answered.

  Laynald grimaced. “It is essential that we discover his origin. His longevity suggests he's either a clone or a member of an unknown species. He hasn't seemed to age according to records that span over two centuries.” Laynald scanned through the files on the screen. “You can learn a lot on a pleasure planet. Enough to easily launch you into the corporate universe. He worked, invested, manipulated, expanded and exploited his way to where he wanted to be.

  “Then he designed The Hive system to eliminate undesirable peoples and the problems that all planets contain so that they would not stand in the way of his plan. His efficiency is amazing! Do you realize that he's successfully linked himself to the foremost support system of the Universal Government?"

  Laynald looked up from the screen and scrutinized Rael. “He's always known where you were. What's changed now that's caused him to turn his attention toward you?"

  Rael looked annoyed, “He had eliminated the head of Dark Ops to unbalance its structure and stir things up, and I'm a leading factor for its defense. So now that my position is in jeopardy as well, he wants a confrontation. It's time to either use me or lose me. That's where I fit in.” He turned his attention to Tristen again. “What is your part in this?"

  Tristen shifted uncomfortably, I don't understand, sir.

 
Laynald leaned forward, “How did you end up at the Palace? How long were you there?"

  I don't know, sir, she began. I awoke from stasis on Tanivol. I was sent immediately to my training for The Palace.

  “Training?” Ira asked softly. He felt her emotions waver.

  Uh ... I was ... they ... it was....

  “Slave indoctrination,” Rael stated flatly.

  She nodded.

  Ira was taken aback by the surge of anger beneath Rael's soft voice.

  “I'm all too familiar with their abusive methods, and I'm sorry to have to do this, but I need to see faces, names, locations, all of them from the moment you were chosen to when we met on Tanival. Tristen, we need to see everything you saw,” Rael said.

  She complied so quickly that all three of them found themselves immersed in her memories.

  * * * *

  A garden ... green vines climbing slotted columns.... the reflections of two moons sparkling in a shallow pond ... a woman motioning to come inside ... Romanesque lounging areas ... draped cloth walls and windows ... two men robed and hooded. They are the Oracles. The woman is excited. Her husband arrives. There is a flurry of activity as they rush around to accommodate the elders. Eventually they rise and motion for her to follow ... one last look at the pond ... silver moonlight now reflecting ... small fish darting back and forth. There is a long ride through the darkness across a deserted plain.

  Through the sleek, solar transport's windows a bright constellation can be seen high in the horizon. The trip is long, and she falls asleep ... awakening in a small sterile room ... female attendants garbed in flowing white gowns attaching the sensors ... the input links ... then the sleeping draught and nothing ... flickering moments ... a ceremony ... the circle of Oracles ... being guided to lie on a table ... a scalpel gleaming in the harsh lighting ... everything moving ... spinning ... flashes of light ... darkness.

  There is a rhythmic pulsing ... a hissing sound ... the air thickens, she smells exhaust fumes ... forms flash in and out of view ... there is a tingling numbness ... the feel of rough hands ... being lifted ... blurred sporadic, multi-viewpoint vision, disorienting overlapping views ... She sees canisters, supplies being loaded ... three stasis tubes opening: two women and a boy; the occupants stirring to consciousness in a docking bay.