The Phoenix Fallacy_Book III_Magnus

by Jon Sourbeer,

  The twists seemed endless, but finally he stopped. “You will find two of your husband’s S.T.s waiting at the end of the hall. They are appropriately terrified,” he paused, another wail from somewhere in the prison sounded. “I believe if you offered them the opportunity to leave, they would jump on it. Sometimes my old mind plays tricks on me, and it takes me a while to find my way out.”

  “Thank you, Charon,” Natalie said.

  He bowed, “It was my pleasure, Lady Delacroix.”

  As he slowly shuffled away, his voice carried back to Natalie, “Your Magnus, Lady Delacroix, is my kind of man.”

  Chapter 30: The Devil’s Dead

  Natalie walked slowly along the dark hallway, Aubrey behind her. There was a sharp right turn and a blinding light immersed her. She held up a hand to block it.

  “Who – who goes there?” A shaky voice said. She could see the outline of a Zeus trembling in the S.T.s hands. Another S.T. stood beside him, struggling to keep his own weapon steady.

  “Lady Delacroix, may I advance?”

  “Lady Delacroix, Hail Titan!” The S.T. said in a relieved voice, glancing at his companion, “I was afraid it was that creepy old man or something worse!”

  “No need to worry, although Charon may still be just down the hall to take you out of here, if you hurry.”

  The S.T. straightened up, “Sorry, my lady. I did not mean to act like I was afraid. Executor Delacroix has ordered me to guard this room until he returns.”

  “I’m aware of your orders, soldier,” Natalie lied, “But I need to get into the warden’s office. I will guard it for you.”

  The S.T. chuckled, but stopped suddenly as Natalie bristled. “I’m sorry, my lady. But I can’t. My orders are clear – no one is to get through, including you.”

  Natalie’s looked over her nose imperiously, “What do you think he’ll say when he finds out you disobeyed me?”

  The S.T. gulped, “I’m sorry my lady, but – “

  “How will you find your way out when I order Charon to leave you here?”

  The S.T. gulped hesitated for a fraction more and then stepped aside, “Please proceed, Lady Delacroix. We will simply wait for you here until you are ready to go.” The second Trooper immediately followed suit.

  Natalie smiled sweetly, “Thank you,” she took a step by the S.T.s and stopped. “Oh, and no one gets through this door. If anyone else arrives, send them away and let me know immediately.”

  The S.T. straightened and saluted, “Yes, my lady!”

  As the door closed behind her and Aubrey, another wail sounded from the prison, and the S.T. nearly jumped to the ceiling.

  The short hall beyond the door was dimly lit, but enough light was present for the pair’s dilated eyes. It slowly brightened as they walked, giving them a chance to adjust – it became clear why: the surveillance room itself was brimming with glowing screens. It was bright, almost cheerful, when compared to the prison; an island in an otherworldly place.

  A solitary chair sat in the middle of the room. A panel of controls unfolded from the side, granting Natalie access to all the office’s features. After fiddling with the controls, the glowing screens brought up all the cells with occupants in them. There were only three or four total. It was hard to tell if all of them were alive. The healthiest looking prisoner, however, was a man sitting miserably upon a hard metal floor. The displays brightened to give a better picture. It was Rassan.

  “No sign of Norm,” Aubrey said.

  “Then we will take that as a positive for now,” Natalie said through gritted teeth.

  A new set of controls appeared on the screen, and Natalie touched the cell in which Rassan waited. His face filled the screens, giving multiple angles from which to study him. The cell appeared without doors or windows.

  “So Rassan, are you Charon’s kind of man?” Natalie whispered.

  As if on cue, the sound of grinding gears echoed from the monitors, and one of the heavy cell walls laboriously lifted up. Beyond it, heavy iron bars separated the cell from a comfortable room with a rug, a large armchair, and fireplace. A single heavy door at the far end opened, and two S.T.s stepped inside. One hastily lit the fireplace and then the pair flanked the door. Burke stepped into the room, followed by Magnus, the cape of the Executor Ascendant draped across his shoulders.

  Rassan’s eyes darted about.

  “Looking for something Rassan?” Magus motioned around the room. “An explanation, perhaps?”

  He casually turned to the S.T.s, “Leave us. Lift the bars. Alert me as soon as you have news of my wife.”

  The S.T.s bowed and retreated from the room, closing the heavy door with a slam. The thick iron bars lifted and Burke stepped into the cell.

  Rassan pressed himself further back, eyeing Burke with despair.

  Magnus cocked his head at the Overlord, “Your fear would be better directed at me, Rassan. I am the one who controls your destiny. The only reason you are still alive is so that we could have our little chat.”

  “BURKE WILL BETRAY YOU!” Rassan screamed, curling and protecting his head from Burke’s oncoming blow.

  But none came. Rassan slowly unfurled himself, studying Magnus’ incredulous gaze. Burke had not moved one step closer, but his visor made him unreadable.

  “Burke worked with me to instigate the coup against the Executors, he wanted to seize power and become an Executor himself!” Rassan waited a moment, letting this sink in, “I swear it! I don’t know what he has told you, but Burke is power hungry! He wants to control Titan himself!”

  Magnus chuckled. “Now why would he do that?” He stepped forward a patted the huge Infernus on the back, “Surely he would realize that once you were in control, you would have no reason keep him alive? And he certainly couldn’t rely on the promises of a man who had just backstabbed all of his sworn Executors now, could he?”

  Rassan hung his head. Natalie couldn’t help but think the man was totally defeated, on his hands and knees as he was. An odd huffing noise emanated from him, and Burke stepped forward, a hand raised in concern. But has he approached, Rassan threw back his head and laughed.

  Burke’s concern melted away and he slapped Rassan heavily with the back of his glove. Rassan stopped, a dark bruise appearing on his cheek. Magnus smiled shook his head, “That’s not necessary, Commandant Burke.”

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” Rassan gasped, looking at Magnus. “My life rests with a fool. You are a fool, Magnus Delacroix.”

  Burke stepped forward again, but Magnus waved him off.

  Rassan rubbed his cheek, “All the Executors were unworthy, but you most of all. The fact that you still trust the man beside you… how on earth did you join the Titan ranks? I always assumed you were a lesser blood relative of one of the fallen Executors from the plague, but this—” he began wheezing. “This—” he started laughing again, rolling onto his back. Without warning, Magnus joined him, laughing hysterically, uncontrollably. After a moment, Burke joined in, the hearty laughter of all three men creating the oddest, most disturbing scene Natalie had ever witnessed.

  The intercom sparked to life, startling Natalie and Aubrey.

  “Lady Delacroix. An S.T. arrived on behalf of Lord Delacroix, but I sent him away as ordered. He told me that Lord Delacroix wished to speak with you immediately, and he would be reporting back to him shortly.”

  “Thank you,” Natalie responded. “Please keep me informed of any other visitors.” Her troubled gaze returned to the screens.

  Rassan had stopped laughing. His face reflected his unease. His gaze was focused solely on Magnus’ wide grin.

  “Rassan, Rassan, Rassan,” Magnus stepped around the large chair, allowing his right hand to rest upon the head cushion. He glanced at Burke, “What did I tell you?” He motioned at Rassan with his left and smiled. Burke chuckled.

  The cornered Overlord’s head swiveled between the two.

  Magnus nodded at the armchair, “Sit down.” Rassan went very still
. Magnus looked imploringly at him, “You’ve always wanted to sit in an Executor’s chair, haven’t you?” Rassan’s eyes darted between Magnus and the cushioned chair.

  In a flash, Burke grabbed the Overlord forcefully by the neck and threw him into the chair, holding him down until he stopped struggling. Rassan clutched the arms, gasping for breath. Magnus smiled, “Isn’t that better?”

  He turned his back to his prisoner and paced the room, “Did you know that long ago, Executors used to sit in those very chairs while they determined a prisoner’s fate? That when they designed this prison, the idea was to make every small detail assault the prisoner’s mind in some way, so that eventually, they would only know one thing: that their fate was held by the man sitting in that chair. The designers even made the outer layer of the walls resonate at certain ranges of the human voice. When a prisoner wailed, they would make their own prison shake and protest. Total isolation, total darkness. Suffer in silence, or suffer in protest.”

  Magnus turned back to Rassan, “But you were right, Rassan – about those men. They believed that they needed cheap tricks, and frightening sounds to keep in power. They were not strong enough to do it alone. Every man that has ever sat in that chair has been a fool.”

  “You know, Rassan, you did everything I wanted and more today.” Only Rassan’s eyes moved, he hardly seemed to be breathing.

  “I’ve studied you for a while, and I’ve known that you’ve held a rather low opinion of the Executors for a long time.” Magnus motioned to himself, “Of me, especially.” He shook his head knowingly, “It’s understandable. I suppose we have one thing in common. We both know that the old Executor caste was utterly incapable. They had nearly driven Titan into the ground. What we needed was real leadership, the kind that can only come from a single source. Rule by committee is a recipe for disaster.”

  He cocked his head at Rassan, “Of course, eliminating the Executors myself would have been out of the question. They watched me like a hawk – and to remove them all? Impossible. And if I were held responsible, why, my leadership would undoubtedly be challenged. No, a simple coup on my part could not work.”

  Magnus raised his arms in the air, “Let me paint a picture for you. A bitter, confident Overlord suddenly sees an opportunity to make a newly minted, weak Executor indebted to him. He has no idea who planted the first bomb, but he could see how the other Executors treated this outsider. He suspects the most powerful man in the Corporation, Executor Agathon, has decided to make a move. And the golden opportunity just drops right into his lap. He overhears Infernus guards discussing how this Executor seems a bit rattled and out of sorts. That he seems to need reassurance. He can manage this crisis. He can turn it to his advantage. All he needs to do is play both sides – become the point man for the attempts and for security. So he arranges a meeting with Agathon. It’s clear that the rumors agree with his own suspicions. It seems odd during the meetings that Agathon plays the part of the clueless bomber so well, but if anyone in Titan might be the Overlord’s equal, it would be him. And it matters little, really, who did it. The Overlord has his in – Agathon buys into it completely. Agathon doesn’t really want the Executor dead, just powerless – this Overlord is offering to continue making attempts to rattle the Executor. Why should Agathon get his hands dirty? And if something truly does happen, well, no one will shed a tear. And Agathon is so satisfied with the results, the pressure upon the Executor, he cares little that he hears rumors of the Overlord is using the Executor for his own gains. Agathon is an Executor, and he believes that really, the Overlord just wants an in with Agathon. But the Overlord knows who really has the power here. He has known Titan for a long time. He knows how the Executors work. He knows what the Overlords want. And he knows that as long as he bides his time, working the angles and walking a fine line, no one will say a word – because appearances are everything. For any party to reveal their part would throw their power into question. For Agathon to reveal his knowledge would threaten his position with the other Executors. They don’t like the newcomer, but they don’t like the idea of a threat against them either. And the newcomer would never say anything – he is weak. To admit his reliance on an Overlord for his safety would call into question his power. The Overlord is safe, and his power is growing.” Magnus smiled at the look on Rassan’s face, “Am I warm?”

  “And the Executors loved the attempts. The others suspected your duplicity, but it worked in their favor. They believed you too frightened to pull the trigger, and now I posed so little threat to their own plans and schemes.”

  “But you needed me. I was the real in. Even a weak Executor has more resources than the strongest Overlord. All of the Corporations survive due to their caste system, and the Executors permit none to join their ranks.”

  Magnus examined his hands, “There are rare exceptions, of course. But these are few and far between, and for them to work, you need someone to give you legitimacy...”

  “I helped you!” Rassan spluttered.

  Magnus laughed, “Hardly. There is always another of your kind. The real secret was in how I started Rassan. You see, I know something that the other Executors and Overlords do not understand. Something I learned many years ago. It isn’t the Executors and Overlords who run a corporation. It’s the S.T.s. Everything that must be done in a Corporation, passes through an S.T. Goods, communiques, enforcement – everything. No matter what secrets are hidden, there is always an S.T. connected to it. S.T.s helped me plant that crude bomb on my Behemoth. S.T.s helped me find you.”

  Burke crossed his arms and smiled. Magnus turned away from Rassan, pacing behind the Infernus and Overlord. Magnus made a circular motion with his hand and Burke chuckled, turning Rassan and the armchair to face the door. “S.T.s are extremely loyal to one another, and incredibly loyal to their Corporations. Nothing grates on an S.T. more than watching their beloved home, the one that raised them from the dregs of society and given them power, suffer at the hands of incompetence. Nothing is worse to an S.T. than someone who sacrifices their brothers and sisters for their own personal benefit and glory above the needs of the Corporation. Which reminds me, Burke?”

  Burke turned, “What is it, Magn—“

  BOOM. The explosion reverberated through the walls.

  Burke crumpled to the ground, a pool of blood slowly expanding from where his faceplate touched the floor. Rassan cringed, staring in horror.

  Magnus casually wiped off some of the blood that had splashed onto the small pistol he held with a cloth before continuing, “Some of the S.T.s under my command were unhappy with Burke’s late addition to the plan. They didn’t appreciate that he was willing to sacrifice his own men. Personally, I don’t think I could trust a man who just betrayed his Executors to gain personal power. I just hate traitors,” he looked to Rassan with an evil smile, “Don’t you?”

  Rassan struggled to push himself backward, but succeeded only in toppling over the chair. He cowered there, frozen.

  “But the rest of the story you already know, don’t you Rassan? And I think you’ve guessed the ending.”

  Magnus tossed the weapon into the air. Rassan instinctively caught it and fired desperately at Magnus. There was nothing but a hollow clicking. He looked at the weapon with confusion and shock, lowering his arm. Magnus pulled out Natalie’s pistol.

  Suddenly the door burst open, and four S.T.s piled into the room. “Sir, are you alright?” the first Trooper asked.

  “Ah, Robins. Good to see you,” Magnus said over his shoulder, “This traitor just killed Commandant Burke. It was lucky shot, but I think his weapon is empty.”

  Even behind their heavy visors, Natalie knew the anger on the men’s faces. “We’ll deal with this mudfish. You get yourself out of here, Sir, in case he still has a trick up his sleeve.”

  “Thank you, my friends,” Magnus said, quickly exiting the room. The thick armor of the S.T.s blocked Rassan from view, but he could be heard screaming, “No! Mercy! No! NO!” Natalie quickly cu
t the video feed but the sound had not quite cut out when, “PLEA—!” A loud report issued from the speakers, and then there was silence.

  Natalie quickly brought the feed to the corridor outside the cell, watching Magnus. In the distance, the glow from Charon’s biolume lamp could be seen slowly fading away as a Trooper ran towards the cell.

  “Executor Delacroix! Is everything OK? I was coming back with news about Lady Delacroix, sir, when I heard gunshots!”

  Magnus grimaced, “What’s your name, Trooper?”

  “Perkins, sir.”

  “Good to know you, Perkins. We’re fine now. But I am afraid that that traitorous Rassan got another noble Titan hero today. Commandant Burke is dead.”

  The S.T. jumped back in shock, “No! It can’t be!”

  “We’ve already taken care of it. Rassan won’t be troubling Titan anymore. Why don’t you come with me?” He put a hand on Perkins shoulder, deep concern on his face, and guided him away from the door. “Now, what news do you have for me about my wife?”

  “She’s apparently inside the Warden’s office.”

  Magnus stopped, “I instructed that no one was to enter that room.”

  “Yes, well, with all the confusion, sir, Lady Delacroix took control of it. I just found out,”

  Magnus started walking again, “Very good, Perkins. Let the others know I need to speak to my wife immediately. Bring her to me.”

  “Yes, Sir!” Perkins turned and ran off towards the fading light of Charon’s biolume.

  Magnus turned and looked up at the security camera that was watching the hall, “Are you up there, my dear?”

  Without a second glance, he turned and glided down the hall into the darkness, his cape swishing behind him.