Erin nodded. A minute later, the creature made more musical sounds, which Erin immediately translated. “He says the base at Pluto fired first. The Great Leader knew then that we would not let Zariqua Enassa go.”
“Good God!” Kansier exclaimed. “I just can’t believe that such a simple mistake caused all of this.” He protested, but his own attitude made it clear that he did believe it.
“No, Colonel, it didn’t.” Erin disagreed. “They’re a hostile race—perhaps not biologically, but they’ve been socialized to think and act in violent ways. In my opinion, they could not do the things they’ve done to a weaker civilization than theirs, one that didn’t understand what they wanted, without being ruthless. It sounds to me like they’ll find any excuse to justify what they’ve done.”
Dimitriev clenched his jaw, remembering his family, the attack on Central City. As he watched the helpless prisoner and listened to his denial of the truth, his own anger swelled to the point that if left alone with him, he knew he would have killed the alien prisoner in a heartbeat.
Watching Scott, Erin perceived his hostility. She wasn’t sure how long it would be before some revenge-seeking maverick decided to murder the captive. She looked back at the prisoner. He had really done nothing on his own. He was not responsible for what he had done. He was young and inexperienced, like the Discovery crew—couldn’t they see that? Despite the accusations he had made against her, she knew she had to find a way to let him go, for his own safety. From what she had learned about their numbers, one Orian pilot more or less would make little difference. And certainly he hadn’t seen anything on board to be of use to the Orians.
“I think the prisoner must be tired, sir.” Erin ventured disinterestedly, masking her new intent. “Perhaps if we give him time to rest, he might be more willing to discuss our enemies’ motivations.”
“Yes, I think you’re right,” Kansier agreed. “Romanik, have someone keep an eye on him—and post guards at the entrance to the Botanical Gardens. We’ll come by later this afternoon and see if he’s willing to talk to us.”
* * * * *
Erin slipped away from her room quietly. Kansier had dismissed her unit shortly before 0600, and then she had visited their alien prisoner with him at 0615. Afterwards, Kansier suggested she get some sleep in preparation for the interrogation that afternoon, but Erin had other plans, and she no longer required sleep.
She headed towards the botanical gardens and passed the guards. She found an alcove behind the greenery and hid herself, waiting until the guards changed duty and for Knightwood and Zhdanov to leave the laboratory.
Two hours later, the pair emerged.
“...and so I said I had nothing to do with it.” Knightwood was saying as they headed to the door.
“So who was at fault?” Zhdanov cocked an eyebrow.
“Not sure.” Zhdanov looked at her. The guards watched them leave but said nothing.
Erin tiptoed to the laboratory where one of Knightwood’s assistants, Dr. Casey, monitored the analyzers. The prisoner was asleep on the examination table. As Erin approached, he stirred a little.
Erin returned almost to the entrance of the Botanical Gardens and silently crept behind the guards, hiding in the doorway to a closer, smaller laboratory, unused at the moment except for storage.
Pain, she thought, and projected semi-sentient waves towards the two officers posted at the door.
One of them grabbed his head and squeezed both palms into his temples, losing his balance and dropping to his knees. The other officer rushed to him, alarmed, as he writhed around.
“Help!” she shouted, and Knightwood’s assistant appeared in the gardens to see what had happened.
Almost immediately, the other officer was struck by the same affliction, and collapsed to the floor, her body convulsing, jerking wildly.
“Message to Dr. Koslov: we have a disturbance in the Botanical Gardens,” Casey shouted hurriedly into her wrist communicator, then looked at the thing with a puzzled expression and shook her wrist.
“Why isn’t this damned thing working—” she stopped and shouted to the intercom. “Open signal: transmit bridge. Colonel Kansier, we have a problem in the Botanical Gardens. Send a medical unit on the double.” She waited for a response, but none came. After a minute, she could no longer bear to watch the suffering of the officers. “Hang on,” she said and kneeled beside them. “Nothing’s working—we may have lost power again. I’ll go get someone to help you.” Then she rushed to her feet and headed down the corridor, trying to keep calm.
Iriken had heard the commotion and awoke. His restrainments had been broken by someone. He moved to the door and watched the assistant, listening to the strange unintelligible cries. Then miraculously, she left.
He felt pity for the creatures on the floor, but he had to concentrate on his own escape. He went back for his helmet and pulled on the rest of his uniform. Picking his way over the two moving bodies, he hurried out the corridor and retraced the path he had memorized when the creatures had led him here.
He passed a couple of officers in the corridor near the Great Bay, but none of them noticed him. His face had been hidden by the helmet.
Iriken’s own plane would not make it out, he knew. He had no choice but to try to fly one of the Kiel3 planes. Several hundred of them filled the floor space of the Great Bay—he hid among them while officers moved in great haste from the Stargazer across the Bay to the corridor he had just left.
Seeing his opportunity, he managed to open the canopy of one of the ships unnoticed. He waited inside several minutes, trying to figure out the controls of the strange planes. Suddenly it occurred to him through some divine miracle that—he knew how to fly the plane! As though he had done so before. A telepathic gift perhaps from that strange Zariqua Enassa, he thought. A large centrally located throttle appeared the main mechanism of flight control. There were no thought sensors, no reflex initializers. But for some reason the cockpit seemed familiar enough.
He followed the strange sensation guiding him and activated the engines, taxiing away from the other planes and down a clear path to the air lock. He had no idea how to open the door, and searched around the communications console for some kind of trigger to activate the air lock.
A loud noise interrupted his search. Looking up, he saw the great doors opening and headed into the air lock chamber. The inner doors closed behind him, leaving him in the darkness. Then starlight showed before him in a small arc, widening into a field of bright pinpoints of lights. The outer doors opened with a faint sound that deadened into space.
Iriken took the plane out and headed towards home.
Chapter Twelve
She waited in the cockpit, a feral smile lighting her face. She had lost count of the hours but didn’t care. Her mind replayed the glorious sensation she had felt when she left the confines of the ship and found her prey: two returning fighters that had taken matters into their own hands.
She danced among them, hoping they would play a little while at least, but they were not able to match her speed and agility. One after another they exploded into the silence of space radiating particles that rejoined the cosmos as interstellar dust. She sighed, disgruntled because they had been too easy.
Then her last target finally approached.
She waited for the doors to open. She would not fail her order to mete out the death punishment, but she hoped the encounter might last a little longer than the previous one.
Soon the plane emerged, a pitifully slow and fragile Kiel3 fighter. She targeted it in her sights, but it made no sign of trying to avoid her.
The poor thing didn’t realize it would soon cease to exist.
Then a strong grip came over her mind. If she made a move to oppose it, there would be pain—blinding pain—she remembered that all too well. It would be better to obey, yet she despised the control this other mind had over her.
Hold, the voice told her, and constrained her hands, holding them immobile, not ev
en granting her the option of refusal.
Iriken saw the fighter and wondered that the Orian fighter had not come out to protect him as he made his escape from Selesta. It had sat waiting for him and rushed towards him, then suddenly stopped. It followed him into Enlil’s fighter bay and landed just behind him.
Iriken stepped from the Kiel3 plane the Orian scientists would no doubt wish to analyze for weaknesses. He turned to the other fighter, and waited for the pilot to accompany him.
The figure moved stiffly down the decline strip and dropped to the floor. Its hands reached up mechanically to remove the helmet.
“Erika!” Iriken shouted and headed towards her, his face a banner of confusion. “Why have you been placed among the pilot divisions?” he asked in concern, drawing towards her. As he spoke, he began to realize that the experience on Selesta had heightened his emotions; it was a sudden shock to know that he was not the same as when he had left, that he would never again be the same. Had the Zariqua Enassa done this? he wondered, but he did not know. It did not matter.
He was delighted to see Erika.
However, his pleasure quickly changed to horror.
Erika’s glazed eyes had begun to regard him coldly, with inhuman animosity.
“What has happened, Erika?” Iriken ventured, alarmed, stepping back and away from that cold stare, hoping his words would restore some trace of the Erika he knew. “Why do you look at me in such a way?” he asked in confusion, then whipped around at the sound of approaching footsteps.
Iriken stood face to face with the Great Leader.
“Enough now my dear, you may go,” Sargon said, waving an arm. He was a tall, athletic, young-looking man—almost angelic-looking, with a head of blond hair and blue eyes that had once been pensive and sad, but now held the look of instability in them. Iriken suppressed a shudder, for the first time aware that he had recognized the instability there, where before he had only seen determination and wisdom.
“Why did you stop me before I could complete my task?” Erika asked, stuttering slightly. Iriken looked towards her, but she ignored him as though she did not know him. “It was your order,” she insisted, her face twisted with a paroxysm of bloodthirsty desire.
“There are certain things which I must discuss with my young friend.” The Great Leader said evenly. “You will have to return now. Do not disobey.” He warned, his voice peremptory. Then Erika bowed, leaving them alone without another glance at Iriken.
“What happened to her?” Iriken demanded, glaring with open accusation at his Great Leader. Sargon considered him a moment thoughtfully but then erupted into sardonic laughter.
“I redirected her thoughts and feelings more appropriately shall we say.” Sargon explained as though he had been right to do so. “I have eradicated her love for you, or couldn’t you see that?”
“You what?” Iriken rasped, horrified.
“I wanted to see if it could be done—deliberately. Yes, attribute the blame to me. I welcome it. But you see I required an experiment. Is it indeed possible to replace hate with love, and destroy the source of that love on purpose? Well, I got my answer. Yes, what better way to find out than to send your gentle sister to punish the three pilots who went to Selesta without my permission? She would have killed you, as she killed them.”
“And the Garen?” Iriken asked. “He authorized the mission.”
“Yes—he is no longer my advisor.” Sargon admitted, as though grudging an unfortunate necessity. “But I did not kill him—a momentary weakness on my part.” Sargon paused; it was a curious pause, Iriken thought. For just a moment, the Great Leader seemed to temporarily forget his own presence there as his mind worked over something; he seemed to be staring beyond Iriken at something remote.
“There, I see him. Yes well, he is quite safe—retired among the civilian population.” Sargon paused, then glowered at Iriken. “But you—you I would have killed for violating my trust, for revealing my plans to our enemy,” he said coldly, his terrible eyes full of burning anger. “How could you think you could bring back my—the Zariqua Enassa, who has hidden herself from me for so long?
Iriken no longer knew why he had even thought it possible. Or why he had felt such a need to try. Despite the melancholy that permeated the ship, it meant nothing to the feelings that welled in him as he thought of what the Great Leader had done to Erika.
“However, I am willing to forgive you for the news you bring to me of her. Come, let us return to my council room.” Sargon gestured. Iriken followed more out of curiosity than obligation.
“How very strange,” Sargon continued as they walked, “the anticipation I feel is almost more pleasurable than it will be to actually observe what she has become in your thoughts, once I have your mind focused on that meeting. But Iriken, why do you regard me that way?”
“I see now.” Iriken said, nodding; his expression bore a mark of enlightenment, his face that of one who had at last stumbled upon truth without ever having sought it. “I was wrong about you.”
“You were?” Sargon asked tonelessly.
“I thought you might forgive the Zariqua Enassa for her wrongs, when each time you recalled the fighters from Kiel3 to wait for her return, hoping that she would give herself up of her own volition.” Iriken explained. “But now I understand. You don’t love her—you despise her! Zariqua Enassa was right to be afraid—for you will stop at nothing to attain your revenge. You enjoy terrorizing her and the Kiel3 humanoids, who did nothing to incur your hatred. That hate, not your immortality, makes you—a completely inhuman beast.” Iriken stepped back, remembering what Sargon had done to Erika, no longer able to regard the Great Leader as anything but an unfortunate creature drowning in its own pain, but who knew the cause? What exactly had the Zariqua Enassa done to him? And how was he immortal…. Was that the cause of his suffering in some way?
“Iriken,” Sargon laughed, no doubt reading Iriken’s thoughts. “You are the one who is misguided. Hate and love—there cannot be one without the other. Look how easy it was to turn Erika’s love for you around. And why? Because love is fragile, Iriken. Who can hold onto it when a single disappointment can corrupt it? I tell you no one hoped more than I that there could be love without resentment, without disappointment, when I believed it could become the simple purpose of my life. Believe me that I spared Erika that discovery by shattering her ideals for her. I would advise you not to harbor them yourself, boy—but then I don’t think you are entirely governed by them. So much the better. Hmm,” he said. “I do not hate the Kiel3 humans, but they are harboring what I want and require. They must as such be punished until they relinquish the Zariqua Enassa to me, and the ship Selesta. Yet you really think that I am an inhuman beast?” he laughed again, but nervously, as though the insult displeased him in some way. “Of course, because that is what you see. Yes—” he broke off a moment.
“How very young, and very wrong, you are.”
* * * * *
Iriken was released after the interrogation. Whatever the Great Leader’s plans for him were, at the moment it seemed he would not destroy the object that had contacted his obsession. Iriken obscured the memories in his mind as best he could, leaving sufficient doubt in Sargon’s mind as to whether or not his beloved Alessia, she who was called the Zariqua Enassa, had altered Iriken’s memories of her to thwart him. Sargon made no attempt to hide his irritation that Iriken had attempted to resist the interrogation. However, the Great Leader felt certain that the use of mindforce throughout Iriken’s memories carried Alessia’s signature.
Now that she knew how his people lived here, how they suffered—how he suffered without her—would she return to save them? Sargon wondered in spite of his better judgment, in spite of his bitterness. Could she rescue them, could he return to his own self once his faith had been restored—or was it too damn late?
Half-convincing himself that she would, he waited, no longer interested in what happened around him, in Iriken or anyone else.
Me
anwhile, Iriken left the Command Center unnoticed, determined to find Erika and release her. Yet notwithstanding considerable efforts over the next several days, he failed to locate her whereabouts. He began to return to the Command Center each day, hoping to overhear news of her.
Nearly a tenday later, Sargon heard Iriken listening outside the Great Leader’s chamber and laughed to himself.
“So, you want to know the plans I had for your beloved sister?” Sargon bellowed, drawing Iriken from his hiding outside the door.
“Yes,” Iriken answered boldly, without using a title to address his Great Leader.
Yet Sargon seemed not at all displeased; he seemed instead perfectly willing to answer Iriken’s questions. “Well, Iriken,” He continued as the would-be Garen-successor approached, “now that the mind control over her has weakened, she begins to regret her actions. So, of course I had thought it best to cease her suffering.”
Iriken listened expectantly, not daring to believe any of his words yet. If Sargon had already killed Erika, he would have told Iriken so; he had no reason to hide or defend any of his actions.
“But,” Sargon went on when Iriken said nothing, “as you have been the instrument of achieving part of the object of my desire—I will give you one reward.” He paused, watching wrinkles form between Iriken’s eyes as he waited for the conditions. “If you can find her before she kills herself, then you can take her with you.” Sargon gestured with one arm. “You may both escape, to wherever you wish to go, as long as it is to an area beyond my concern. Take her to a civilian sector—I have no interest in them. I will not kill you if you run.” Sargon added, sensing Iriken’s skepticism. “But never return here again, or you will both die.”
Iriken nodded soberly, his eyes never leaving the Great Leader, as though to the last, he still suspected some kind of treachery. Then, without a word, Iriken turned and strode briskly towards the door. Despite the threat he had made, Sargon watched sadly as the young man left the chamber, his pure, hopeful mind bent on freeing his beloved.
* * * * *
Across the Stars: Book Three of Seeds of a Fallen Empire Page 26
