by Carysa Locke
He glared at her. “She has never claimed so many at once. Having one of them shot while she was influencing him appears to have overwhelmed her. But she’ll recover.” He wagged a finger at Mercy. “And don’t think you’ll be able to use this moment to wrest control from her. These people still belong to her. She just needs a few minutes to recover from the shock.”
Interesting. Mercy had no idea how to claim people, exactly, but she reached out and tested the wall that continued to separate her from everyone else. There was a little more give to it, but not much. Not enough. It was heartening to know it was weakened, though.
“Why would I want to claim them?” She shrugged. “Unlike you, having an army of mindless drones doesn’t appeal to me.”
“As always, you don’t look deeper than the surface. This level of influence is rarely necessary. Talented people need the connection of a queen, but only in extreme circumstances is she required to exert this much control.”
Mercy flashed an insolent smile. “Pirates aren’t so keen to join you, huh? Maybe something to do with the virus your people used to try and kill them all?”
He scowled at her. “Killing them all wasn’t the primary goal. Killing Lilith was.”
Mercy could swear she felt a wave of shock at his words wash through the crowd. Maybe she was imagining it, but she didn’t think so. So they were aware enough to process what was happening. They just couldn’t act against it. Yet.
“I thought you wanted a queen? Why go to so much effort to kill one?”
“Lilith was a problem. Her influence was being felt even in the furthest systems where we have Talented agents. She was powerful, and while we needed a queen, we needed one we could control.”
“Wow. I really don’t think you understand the whole function of a queen.”
“I understand much more clearly than you. And I’m done talking. Like your grandmother, you are a problem that needs removing.”
Mercy forced herself to act casually. She crossed her arms, looking around with a shrug and a bored expression. “Looks like your puppet isn’t working right now, Will. Pretty sure you can’t kill me without her.”
“I don’t need her to deal with you.”
“Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself.”
Willem smiled, and it was genuine enough to cause worry to stab through Mercy.
“You can’t kill me.” She was pleased at how confident she sounded. “You’ve certainly tried enough times to prove that. Hell, you can’t even get into my mind.”
She wasn’t one hundred percent sure of that, but she threw the challenge down anyway. There had to be a reason why he had yet to speak to her mentally. Willem’s smile faded around the edges.
“Your shields have improved, that much is true. But I don’t need to get into your mind to kill you. In fact, you’re going to do it for me.”
Mercy was startled into a laugh. “What? You honestly think I’ll what…kill myself for you?”
“I already know everything there is to Mercy Kincaid.” His arrogance scraped across her nerves. “You care about all of these people. And I think if I start killing them, one by one, you’ll do anything to stop me.” He raised a hand and pointed. “Let’s start with the one I know will hurt the most.”
Reluctantly, Mercy followed the line of his arm. He was pointing up. There were numerous platforms high in the room, probably used for storage once. One had several people standing on it. Including Atrea. Her hands were twisted behind her back, and a gag had been tied around her mouth. Mercy’s heart thudded hard in her chest, and she had to exert supreme willpower not to take a step toward her friend.
She stayed absolutely still, bile in her throat as she imagined Atrea broken on the ground. Like Kator. Like Wolfgang. No. That could not happen. She swept her gaze over the crowd, just a quick glance disguised as turning her head away from the sight of Atrea’s plight. She caught the flash of Vashti’s robes near the throne, and fought not to show the surge of hope she felt when she raised her eyes back to Willem.
He was watching her with a knowing smile. “You are going to take yourself to the nearest airlock – escorted, of course – and walk yourself into it.”
“You want me to space myself?”
“Fitting, don’t you think? You once imagined me so clearly in the same position.”
“Not happening.”
“I think it will. It might take a few deaths, but I’m willing to bet I won’t get through five lives before you change your mind.” He paused. “I’m going to give you five seconds to agree, or your friend is going to plunge to her death.”
Mercy hesitated for four. When he raised his hand like he was going to give an order, she made an abortive move forward, and her shoulders slumped. “Wait!” She had to buy Vashti time. A few seconds, or minutes. She wasn’t sure how long. “Fine. I’ll go.”
Willem laughed. “So quickly! I gave you too much credit.” He jerked his head at two of his people. Not pirates. He was taking no chances. “Take Mercy to the nearest airlock. Make sure she goes in, and make sure she ejects herself into space.”
Mercy stood as stiffly as possible while Willem’s people took hold of her arms. “I said I would walk myself.”
“I can still have your friend killed.”
Mercy allowed herself to be dragged backwards three steps. She reached for Vashti’s mind, too afraid of drawing Willem’s attention if she looked in that direction. Right now he was focused on her, and she needed that to remain the case.
Whatever you’re going to do, do it now. She received no direct reply, but more of a feeling from her aunt. Anticipation, and a grim determination.
Seven more steps. One of the men holding her tripped, lurching to the side. He went down, almost pulling her with him. Confused, Mercy stared at him. The man holding her other arm gave a high, thin scream that jerked her attention to him right before he crumpled to the ground. Their minds were gone, snuffed out in an instant.
The next one to touch you will die slowly.
Reaper!
Willem cursed and spun toward Rani just as Vashti moved. Vashti lunged forward and stabbed the capsulet into Rani’s neck. At the same time, Willem flung his hand toward Atrea. Kill her.
“No!” To Mercy’s horror, Atrea was thrown bodily from the platform, almost in slow motion. After the most excruciating few seconds of her life, Mercy realized it was slow. Someone was using telekinesis to catch her, and lower her gently to the floor.
I’ve got her, Reaper said.
Telekinesis lifted Vashti off her feet and threw her from Rani in a violent motion. She hit the ground hard and didn’t get up again. The young queen put a wavering hand to her neck, and then her eyes rolled back and she slumped onto the seat of her throne. Willem was right there, his hands gripping her shoulders, his face a mask of fury as he shook Rani. Her body moved like a rag doll.
The wall came down. Mercy felt it. People all around her started to blink and move and wake up. Rani’s iron control faded, and Mercy could touch their minds again. That connection bloomed inside of her, building in a wave of power unlike anything she’d ever experienced. It was the warmth she felt when she touched Talented minds, but brighter, stronger, like comparing the warmth of a summer day to the molten heat at the center of a star. It spilled over her skin like fire, and her breath hissed between her teeth at the intense flash of heat. She went rigid with the pain.
“Mercy.”
She heard Reaper’s voice as though from a great distance, not because a wall still separated him from her, but because it was everything she could do to hold the power contained. If she let her attention waver even for an instant, it would explode.
Reaper pulled her close. She was vaguely aware of his arms holding her, even as his mind reached through the heat and connected with hers.
Let it go.
No. I can’t.
You must.
I don't know what will happen.
Trust your instincts. Trust what
you are.
She bit back a sob as the pain intensified. In her mind, her skin had ignited, curling black as though eaten by fire. The longer she held the surge of power, the greater it built, the sharper the agony.
You must release it before it kills you.
What if I kill everyone in the room?
You won’t. He sounded so certain.
How do you know?
It’s not who you are. Let your instincts guide you. Control it, but let it go.
Mercy took a ragged breath. She could hear a keening cry, and knew it was her own voice. I’m afraid.
I’m here with you. I’ll always be with you.
Something within her settled, grounded. She let her shields fall.
The power left her in an explosive blast that rocked through the room, the ship, the system and beyond. She felt the shockwave expanding past the hull of Nemesis, past planets and stars, in an instant that transcended distance and time. It went on and on, the fire within her dying to heat, and then warmth, until only a trickle was left. She could barely feel it, but it connected her to every mind in the room. To every Talented mind within range.
She wasn’t sure what that range was, but in that moment, it might have included the entire expanse of the universe. She took a shuddering breath, and then another.
I can feel them all. They were hers.
Not only their minds. She could touch their Talent. She felt Reaper’s ability to kill as though it was her own. Cannon and Sanah’s empathy rolled through her, and she felt the wonder and awe as people tested their new connection. Beneath that, she felt their anger and loathing. Not for her. For Willem. For Rani. For what had been done to them now and in the past. Nayla’s biokinesis told her every injury in the room, and with it, Mercy reached out and stopped the last of Jaxon’s lifeblood from leaving his body. She closed the wound.
Nayla.
Yes, my Queen. The young woman was already moving through the crowd. She knelt beside Reaper’s dog and placed her hands on him.
Mercy moved on to Wolfgang. Only his implants allowed him to live. Their repair nanites worked to keep his body alive, but they were losing the battle. It was a function they’d never been designed for, keeping flesh alive and blood flowing. Mercy took over the task, mending the bones that had been broken, knitting back together the torn tissue and arteries that Willem’s people had inflicted. The Talent seemed guided by a hand beyond her own. She was afraid to think about it too closely. Afraid that she did, it would stop working and Wolfgang would die.
The flicker of life she felt from him became a steady beacon, small but definite.
Arigatou gozaimasu. For the first time, Mercy understood Doc’s ancient dialect clearly as he thanked her while kneeling beside Wolfgang’s prone form. I will take care of him now. The doctor’s tone was more gentle than she’d ever heard it.
Mercy eased back and hesitated over Kator. Even with the seemingly endless bounty of Talent at her disposal, there was nothing she could do for the dead. She gently closed his eyes as she opened her own.
Reaper still held her. Though it felt like endless time had passed, it was only a few seconds. Willem still held Rani. He only now stepped away from her. Mercy could feel his surge of fear as he looked around the room, taking in the hostility of the pirates. She heard his thoughts as he planned his escape, calling for his teleporter, Octavia.
But Octavia didn’t belong to Willem anymore. She was Mercy’s now. And so was he.
No. Mercy spoke the word without heat or inflection, but Willem still winced when he heard it. He put a hand to his head, no doubt realizing that her voice was well past his surface thoughts. Inside his shields.
Mercy moved through his thoughts and memories. She saw him steal the research Sanah once built and turn it into a deadly virus to kill Talented minds. To kill Lilith. She saw him plan the operation that kidnapped Mercy, saw him coldly decide to take Atrea as leverage. She saw him create Rani, manipulate her, use punishment and reward to build her into someone he could control.
But nowhere did she see her mother. A pang went through her. Pallas had never been with Willem and Veritas.
You—you can’t kill me. Willem sounded far too confident. He had not yet realized that the true threat was Mercy, not the pirates facing him. He tried appealing to her. I have information you need. Your mother! I can help you find her.
His lies should have angered her, but Mercy looked at him and felt nothing. An emptiness rose within her, Reaper’s Talent. A numb cold that was soothing and pleasant. She looked at Willem, and saw a thousand different ways to kill him. Ways to stretch it out and make it last. Ways to cause torment and pain.
You have nothing I need. She chose the most efficient method. She was already inside his shields. It took only a moment’s concentration to crush his mind. He never even screamed.
As his body crumpled, the room wavered around Mercy. She realized she felt weak. Somewhere behind this place where she floated among Talented minds and abilities, pain hammered at her head, the kind of nausea-inducing headache that was unbearable. Burn out. It seemed even a queen had limits.
She allowed her awareness to drift back to herself, to pull back from all the people who were hers. The moment she did, she doubled over and vomited at Reaper’s feet. It didn’t improve her headache. Blackness edged her vision.
“I think I’m going to pass out,” she said out loud. Because thinking the words hurt too much.
“I’ve got you.”
She felt Reaper lift her into his arms just before the blackness rushed in.
Chapter Thirty
Mercy watched the azure blue shell of stasis crystallize around Rani’s sleeping form. The sedative loaded into the capsulet Vashti injected her with had sent the young queen into a deep slumber. Mercy tried to remember the ancient fable the snow white name came from. Did the woman ever wake up? It seemed there was something about blood on snow, so maybe not. Maybe Rani never would either, and that might be for the best. Mercy wasn’t entirely sure the girl was sane after everything Willem and his cronies had done to her, both physically and mentally. Doc said there were reasons not to clone the Talented, much less whatever Frain had done to create his own cloned queen.
But Mercy couldn’t quite bring herself to kill the girl, either. She was a child, used and abused by the people around her, and Mercy would not see her murdered for that. Maybe, between them, Doc and Nayla could help her somehow. Or, as Tamari grew older and into her power, maybe she could. The child seemed miraculous enough at the tender age of four.
A scanner was abruptly thrust into her face, interrupting her reverie. It had Mercy stumbling back a step and sputtering as Doc invaded her personal space.
She glared at him. “I thought we’d reached an understanding.”
“Oh yes?” He didn’t even look up from his scan. “What understanding is this?”
“The understanding where you respect my boundaries and I won’t try and avoid you anymore.”
Now he glanced up, dark eyes glittering with something that looked suspiciously like amusement. “And when did we have this discussion? I don’t recall.”
“We shared a moment when I healed Wolfgang. Don’t try and deny it.”
His head cocked quizzically. “Healed? You healed Wolfgang? Ie. No. What you did was triage. First aid. It is not the same as healing.”
Mercy’s mouth dropped open. “I repaired broken bone! Knit tissue together! What the hell is that if not healing?”
He picked up a bone knitter and waved it at her. “This instrument could do as much. Your efforts kept him from slipping away, I will grant you that. But I would hardly call it healing. That is what Nayla does. It is what I, as a doctor, do.”
“What’s the damn difference?”
He set the bone knitter down and stared back at her seriously, all amusement gone. “The difference is we are trained to heal. You are not. Do you understand? You were lucky. One slip—” He snipped the air with his fingers. “—an
d Wolfgang bleeds out instead of recovers.”
Mercy’s outrage drained to worry. “He’s going to be all right, though, isn’t he?” She craned her neck to look around him, even though she couldn’t actually see Wolfgang behind the privacy screen.
There were too many sections of the infirmary cordoned off for patients, from Wolfgang, to Jaxon, to Vashti – who had two broken bones – to a disgruntled and bad-tempered Atrea. She’d suffered a few bruises in her scuffle with Willem’s men, but Doc was most concerned about the malnutrition of her previous captivity…and whatever Tamari had done to heal her.
Doc moved Rani’s stasis pod to the only free corner of the infirmary. A second stasis pod lay there already, but this one was covered with a shroud. Mercy followed Doc over and touched the shroud with hesitant fingers.
“Has Kator’s family been by yet?”
“Yes. They are working with Cannon to make arrangements for the ceremony.” He hooked Rani’s stasis pod into emergency power, so if anything happened to take main power down on Nemesis, her stasis would remain active. “Max has not been by.” Doc said this almost casually, as though making a passing comment.
Mercy knew it wasn’t. “I’ll check in with him.”
Doc nodded, like he expected nothing less. “Well, your scans still show a massive improvement.” He gave her a look that held accusation. He hadn’t quite forgiven her for waking up after the events in the arena with near perfect health. If Doc couldn’t explain it, he didn't approve.
“Are you telling me I’m free to go?”
He grunted. “I suppose I have little choice. I’d love to keep you here and take samples and scans to study how you managed this feat, but I suppose Cannon or Reaper would simply come and drag you away before I had sufficient data.”
“So I can go?”
He gave a long suffering sigh. “Hai.”
“Take me with you!” Atrea’s cry came from around two privacy screens, but her voice was unmistakable.
Doc said something under his breath that didn’t sound complimentary. Mercy burst out laughing as she crossed the room to Atrea’s bed.
