MindRogue

by Connie Suttle

  "Quin, can you help him?" Dori pleaded before I could stop her.

  "I can." She smiled and sat beside me, before taking my head into her hands. I didn't argue—my head was still foggy from the unexpected trip into split-time that I'd taken. The fogginess left me feeling queasy, too, but I wasn't telling Dori that. She was worried enough as it was.

  Slowly, Quin pulled the fog from my mind, and with it, the nausea affecting my gut. I felt so much better when she took her hands away, I wanted to laugh.

  "If that ever happens again, I know to call you first," I grinned at her instead.

  "I'd like to introduce Nari and Tiri," Zaria said, once I was healed. "They'll be joining you onboard, and helping you search for the Prophet."

  "Any help is certainly appreciated," I said. Maybe they could get a lock on Mae, just by coming in contact with Miz.

  "My idea, as well," Zaria confirmed my thoughts.

  "Maybe I can help some, too," Quin offered. "Although Justis doesn't like me being gone for days at a time."

  "We can communicate through comp-vid," Tiri grinned at Quin. They knew one another, that was plain, without my reading them.

  "Then keep me posted," Quin smiled back. "I'll help as much as I can."

  "We may need your help when Kooper gets information on recycled concrete," I said. "I'm sure he'll ask you to study images."

  "He's already sent images of those who worked at the packaged food facility," Quin told me. "I just got them a few hours ago, and haven't had time to look, yet."

  "Will you keep me in that loop, too?"

  "I'll send you anything I get."

  "Good. I need to revisit the Gant family, I think. Something about them raises my hackles. They feel different from Huyer Food Distribution to me."

  "Then I'll pay close attention to these new images, to see if I get the same feel."

  "I really appreciate your help with this, Quinnie," I said.

  "It's no trouble. You know I want to see this resolved. We both would like for people to stop disappearing and being murdered."

  "Yeah. That's exactly what we all want," Dori huffed.

  You think the bones of victims have been crushed into a lot of recycled concrete, don't you? Quin sent.

  Yes. And that, somehow, is spreading the Prophet's disease. We don't have any proof of it, and frankly, we may never be able to scientifically prove that an obsession can be spread like that. How do you separate an obsession from somebody's brain, so you can point it out to somebody else?

  I know. It sounds impossible, doesn't it?

  I just want to know how long the concrete blocks removed from those planets have been used as building materials in both Alliances. I think we can extrapolate the intent and point to the evidence from there.

  "It's not going to be an easy job," she said aloud.

  "We may have to do some snooping around all of WildTree's recycling facilities—off the books," I said.

  "I want updated images on all their employees," Quin agreed.

  "I think I can ask Travis and Trent to do some of the legwork," Dori said.

  "We'd like to speak with Miz'Sandar Keel," Nari and Tiri chorused.

  "He's at the shooting range with Chief Markus," I said. "They usually go after dinner, to get some practice in."

  "I can take them," Zaria smiled. "Quin and I will leave after that."

  "I'll find berths for you—unless you'd like to share a larger one," Dori offered.

  "We'll share—it's easier to bounce ideas off one another," Nari grinned.

  "Good enough. I'll find you after I get it set up, and we'll get uniforms for you, too," Dori said. "Welcome aboard BlackWing XIII."

  Chapter 6

  Miz'Sandar

  "Most of us have an official, ASD-issued ranos pistol—with the new safety technology. That means the pistol assigned to an individual can only be used by that individual. If the enemy takes the weapon and attempts to use it, it'll probably kill them." Markus handed me one of Sabrina Kend's disposable ranos pistols to study. "That one won't fire a lethal blast—it's built for practice."

  I'd passed Markus' tests on laser pistols and rifles. Ranos technology was the next step in my training.

  "When we go on classified missions, we usually have one of these with us," he nodded toward the pistol in my hand. "They can be destroyed easily if we're taken into custody, and they only fire a limited number of times before destroying themselves anyway. This technology is so secret, only the BlackWing ships carry them."

  "This is fascinating," I turned the pistol in my hand, checking the charge.

  "Chief Markus?" Zaria appeared, with Quin and two other women I didn't recognize.

  "Zaria?" He dipped his head respectfully to her and Queen Quin.

  "I've brought Nari and Tiri to you—they want to speak with Miz," Zaria smiled at both of us.

  "Nari and Tiri—the noted archaeologists?" I'd read about some of their discoveries—they'd found things others had searched for—sometimes for centuries.

  "They want to help find the Prophet—and your sister," Zaria said, while both women nodded and smiled at me.

  "Any help would be much appreciated," I blurted. At that point, I had no idea what archaeologists might do to help, but I was willing to try anything if it got me closer to Mae.

  "Good. Quin and I will leave you to talk, then. Be sure to take your ideas to Randl," Zaria turned to Nari and Tiri. "He'll see the possibilities in them, I guarantee it."

  Quin waved before she and Zaria disappeared; folding space was a talent I very much wanted for myself, and would never have. At least I knew people who possessed it, as it was an elegant way to travel.

  "Now you've seen a Larentii—twice," Markus grinned at me.

  I went still for a moment. "Zaria is Larentii?"

  "I've never seen her that way, but some of the others have," Markus shrugged. "They say it's amazing, and that she has wings, too, if she wants to show you those."

  "I didn't know Larentii had wings," I frowned while running through the catalog of information in my mind on the race of blue giants.

  "Only Zaria has wings," Nari smiled. "We'll sit over here while you continue your lesson, and when you're done, we'll ask questions," she said.

  "No pressure with an audience," Markus slapped my shoulder. "Come on, you can do this."

  What I wanted to do was wrestle Markus to the floor for taunting me, but I didn't say that. Instead, I lifted the pistol as he'd taught me, took aim and fired.

  Randl

  "Nari and Tiri need something belonging to Mae'Sandar," Zanfield informed me as he slid onto the chair opposite my desk. One of his eyebrows lifted high, as if he expected me to stare at the colors moving about in it, like wind moving wheat in a field.

  "You know this how?" I set down my comp-vid, which held images to peruse, so I could turn my full attention to Zanfield and his bi-colored brows.

  "Markus and Miz told me," Zanfield waved an arm. "Miz doesn't have a hair or a fingernail of hers with him. That means we need to go to her quarters on Campiaa, and find something the twins can use."

  It was my turn to lift an eyebrow, although mine wasn't nearly as spectacular as Zanfield's. "I think we can ask Wyatt to get something," I said after considering the problem. "I think I'll ask him to collect some things that she may have used for a while, too. For me."

  Zanfield's face morphed into a studied, thoughtful expression. "So you can touch them?"

  "Yes."

  "You won't disappear again, will you?"

  "Thank you for your concern, Zanfield, but I was in control last time. I just didn't take time to tell anybody I was leaving to go into split-time, because somebody would argue, and I hate that."

  "You should have taken somebody with you," Zanfield sniffed.

  "You know those white streaks in Travis and Trent's hair? They're lucky that those streaks are the only thing affecting them after going into split-time with me. I wasn't shielding them at the time, so we got lu
cky. Splitting time for anyone else appears to be—detrimental."

  "Are you saying that our lives could shrivel and turn white?"

  "I think that's what I'm saying—except for the white part, unless it's your hair."

  "Good to know," Zanfield now appeared troubled.

  "I think Travis and Trent survived because they're immortal," I added. "I believe that a mortal, unshielded in split-time, wouldn't last long."

  "What about you, then?"

  "I can't answer that with full confidence," I said. "What I suspect is that I create split-time, therefore it has less of an effect on me, unless I empty myself of power while I'm there. That's not to say it doesn't affect me; this last time, it clouded my brain. That's why Quin had to help me."

  "You don't suppose the Prophet is doing that somehow?"

  "I don't know. I don't even know whether that's possible or not," I admitted. "It's something to think about, though."

  "What about giving Nari and Tiri something from the Prophet?" He turned to a safer subject—in his mind, anyway.

  "Zanfield, that just sent shivers down my back. I worry that the Prophet will know if they delve too far into something he's touched. They don't have the ability to shield themselves like I do. I feel it's dangerous to even suggest it."

  "Then we're back to Mae's things," Zanfield said.

  "Yes, we are. I'll communicate with Wyatt and ask him to find something for us."

  "Thank you. I can mark that task as done," he pulled his comp-vid from a pocket and tapped on it for a moment.

  "You're anybody's idea of a dream employee, you know that?" I teased.

  "I'm just trying to get it right the first time," he grinned. "I'll let Markus and Miz know."

  I watched as he rose and walked out of my office. Once the door was closed behind him, I lifted the comp-vid again to study images of the Gant family—those the ASD had gathered from recordings of the family outside their home. The images came from cameras at schools, shops and restaurants, days before the massacre.

  I'd sent copies to Quin, so she was seeing them at the same time. So far, she'd sent me nothing in return—and she'd have seen whether they were affected before I did. Something was missing here—a piece of information, perhaps, that nobody had provided.

  Kooper had interviews with neighbors, too, but those held nothing out of the ordinary.

  I was back to the biggest question in my mind; why did the Prophet choose the Gant family?

  What about the packaged food facility, too? Was it to lure me in? Did he know I'd show up to look? How could he? I was enemy number two in both Alliances, and had he known I'd show up at Huyer Distribution, he'd have come himself to destroy me.

  Instead, he'd sent minions to do the job.

  Travis, I sent, I think there was another reason the Prophet attacked Huyer Food Distribution.

  Be there in a sec, he replied, showing up almost simultaneously with his mindspeech.

  "What's up, bro?" He slid onto the chair Zanfield had vacated only minutes earlier.

  "I think we need to check those crates and pallets at Huyer," I said.

  Travis drew in a breath. "You think they were collecting food, don't you? They waited until the employees did away with themselves, before taking what they wanted."

  "Only I think they got interrupted, and hid when someone else showed up."

  "This means," Travis hesitated while he sorted his suspicions before saying them aloud. "This means the Prophet has control over what's in that recycled concrete. Doesn't it? Like turning it on and off."

  "Just as he has control over the people he's infected. He can control the bones of dead people," I breathed.

  "This goes back to his ability to reanimate the dead."

  "And that terrifies me in ways I can't begin to describe."

  "Kooper," Travis had a comp-vid in his hand quickly. For this, he wanted a face-to-face, rather than mindspeech.

  "What do you have, Captain?" Kooper's voice was clear, his words curt.

  "Have someone check the crates and boxes at Huyer. In other words, do an inventory. Randl and I think the Prophet's people were stealing food and got caught. They hid, but when Randl arrived, the opportunity to kill him was too good, so they acted on it."

  "I'll have an inventory done before the day's out." Kooper cut off the communication.

  "Fuck me," Travis sighed. "Fuck me running."

  "I'll put the rest of our speculation in a comp-vid message to Kooper and Jett," I nodded at Travis. "They need to know everything."

  "How far away can the Prophet be to reanimate bone dust? There has to be a limit to the distance, don't you think?" Travis asked the question now turning in my brain.

  "I don't know," I said. "Or even if there is a limit."

  "Don't scare me more than I already am," he held up a hand. "I don't know what Trent will think when I tell him this."

  "Want to hold a joint ship meeting so we can tell the rest of them, after you tell Trent?"

  "Yes. I'd prefer that you be there to answer questions, because I have no answers."

  "You think I have answers?" I tapped my chest. "I'm trying to figure all this out on the fly."

  "Let's have the meeting after Kooper lets us know about the inventory at Huyer," Travis suggested.

  "Good enough," I agreed. "I'll clue Dori in while you tell your brother; that way neither will be mad because we didn't tell them first."

  "Right on the money, as usual," Travis said. "I'll see you later."

  After he folded away, I went back to studying images. Nothing. Not a damn thing stuck out. Borell Gant had never worked for anybody or anything that was tainted by the Prophet, as near as I could tell. His wives had never worked outside the home, either, and their past histories never listed a lover who'd be suspect.

  Why? I was back to my original question, and the answer, just as it had before, eluded me.

  CSD Headquarters, Campiaa City

  Jett Riffler

  "A quarter of the warehouse emptied," I handed the report to Kooper across my desk. "They were being selective, too. All the sealed meats were taken, sealed fruit was taken, certain vegetables, all in sealed containers, were taken, and a pallet of condiments, salt and such, was also stolen. The cameras, as you know, were compromised before the massacre began, so we don't know exactly how it started, or how the stolen food was transported."

  "Outside security cameras recorded no images," Kooper crossed long legs and shook his head at me. "The Prophet may have been taking it by employing power. I don't know whether he has anyone on his staff capable of it."

  "We can't discount that possibility," I toyed with my comp-vid. "Do you think he may have warlocks or wizards in his employ?"

  "Or obsessed, you mean?" Kooper said what I was afraid to contemplate.

  "Yes."

  "I need to have a conversation with the King of Karathia and his father, I think," Kooper said. "They'll be more approachable than the Grey House Wizards."

  "I may ask if Zaria can help."

  "Good luck on getting her attention," Kooper huffed.

  "I can try. You interview the King of Karathia. I'll let you know if I get an answer from Zaria."

  BlackWing XIII

  Randl

  "You're saying he can command the bone fragments in recycled concrete?" Miz asked after Travis and I made our announcements at the joint meeting. Before his sister disappeared in front of him, he'd never suspected anything like this was possible.

  "I can't say that with full certainty, but it looks that way," I told him. "We've checked the records for that warehouse—some of the concrete flooring was replaced more than eight months ago. There wasn't an incident until recently, when the Prophet decided to replenish food supplies. We've handed him a few setbacks after he attacked transport ships, so he's looking at other ways to feed his flock."

  "For the longest time, we couldn't determine why he was driving people into wet concrete," Travis said. "Until now, we thought he was f
eeding his dark fantasies, by forcing them to die in such a hideous way. Then, the first concrete block we found disappeared—and the hole was filled with dirt. After that, half the dirt disappeared, to get Randl's attention."

  "We have no idea how many of those mass graves exist," I said. "The ones we've found have been flukes, mostly, when someone notices an anomaly on one of the Prophet's chosen planets."

  "He's booby-trapped some of them, too," Trent grumbled.

  "I think it's only a matter of time before he wriggles his way into an important facility—through its building materials," I said. "Imagine if everyone at ASD Headquarters turned on each other. Not only would it wipe out everyone in charge, but it would send the rest running, because they'd finally understand that nobody is safe."

  "Uh, Randl?" Vik sounded worried.

  "What is it?" I asked him.

  "What was used to rebuild those casinos in Campiaa City?"

  "Holy, fucking, hairy weirdballs," I cursed.

  "I'll let Wyatt know," Trent offered.

  "Do it now," Travis said. "They need to start checking everything, as of yesterday."

  Trent's eyes unfocused as he put our fears into mindspeech to Wyatt. "He's telling his dad now," Trent was back to the present. "They're going to dig through the records, and trace every bit of the materials used to rebuild. They're in contact with Jett, too."

  "Good."

  "I have a question," Nari raised her hand.

  I didn't tell her she didn't have to raise a hand to ask. "What do you have, Nari?" I asked her.

  "Will you give us a chip of that concrete—from the warehouse?"

  "I don't think it's safe," I said. "Unless you can build an impenetrable shield around yourself, the Prophet may become aware of you and spend his energy to take you over—or kill you. I don't want either of those things to happen."

  "That's scary," Tiri said. She'd sat beside her sister at the long table in XIII's meeting room, listening quietly until now.

  "Stick with something of Mae's for the moment," I told them. "I doubt the Prophet will expect us to come at him from that direction."