MindRogue

by Connie Suttle

  Avii Castle

  Quin

  I found Charla and Barkins sitting on the terrace outside Gurnil's Library. She'd climbed up all the way from her suite near the lowest level of the castle to look out over the ocean.

  "That's a long walk to make," I said, announcing my presence.

  "I never thought I'd wish to have wings before," she admitted, turning to look at me. "My mother had a huge, nasty parrot when I was little. She let it attack me if I did something wrong."

  "That would certainly give anyone pause where birds are concerned," I agreed, sitting on the chair beside her bench. "I also know what it's like to climb stairs instead of flying from terrace to terrace."

  "I needed the exercise," Charla sighed.

  I read in her expression that someone had offered to fly her to the Library terrace, and she'd declined. An off-duty male guard offered, actually. Charla was too terrified of his wings to accept.

  "Oskar is a good man," I told her. "He just happens to have wings."

  "He introduced himself," she turned her head away. "He seems nice. I just—can't. Not right now."

  "I know. Don't let your fears keep you from making friends, Charla. You're free for the first time in your life to do that—on your own terms."

  "Barkins liked him. He tried to lick his face."

  "Animals are usually the best judges of character," I agreed. "And I have it on good authority that his shift goes to dinner at eight bells—in the guard's mess. They accept visitors, and since Barkins is so well-behaved, I think he'd be a star at dinner."

  "I don't have wings," she reiterated.

  "Neither do most of the women and men in Casino City and Sun City. That doesn't keep the guards or anyone else in Avii Castle from getting to know any of them."

  "I'll think about it," she said, sounding glum.

  "It's better than having dinner alone in your suite, sometimes."

  "Oh, no, somebody fell off the ship," she rose and pointed at the tourist boat far below.

  "Jumped, more than likely," I said. "Wait, here comes a guard, now." She and I watched as a guard, with two strokes of long, multi-colored wings, dropped like a well-aimed rocket toward the cold water surrounding the tourist boat.

  Charla held her breath as the tourist was plucked deftly from the waves. The guard then flew the jumper to the boat, where he was deposited, soaked but intact, on the deck. A waiting security officer took charge of the miscreant and saluted the departing guard.

  "The tourists try that all the time, thinking we'll haul them to the castle rather than putting them back on the boat," I explained as Charla bounced with glee. "We only allow those we've invited to come here. Those people on the boat would pay a lot to have what you do—you're a special guest of the King and Queen of the Avii."

  "That—I've never seen anything like it," Charla giggled. "It was so—efficient. And fun."

  "We see at least two jumpers a week," I said. "The guards train for water rescues."

  "Has Oskar rescued anyone?"

  "More than he can count, I'm sure," I said. "He's one of the regulars on boat duty. It takes what Justis calls finesse to snatch them out of the water like that on the first try. Not all the guards are as good at it."

  "Do you think he'd talk to me about that?"

  "Are you kidding? What man doesn't like to brag about his exploits?"

  Charla laughed again. To me, it was a sign that she understood her new-found freedom to be a normal person—for the first time in her life. I couldn't wait to tell Randl about it—he'd seen what I had in her—that deep within, she'd hated what her mother made of her.

  I'd been made for a purpose, too, and had it not been for the intervention of three powerful ones, Zaria included, I'd have traveled a far different path. Like Charla, I wouldn't have liked it, either.

  "Not every wrong will be righted in the universes," I said, startling Charla with my swift, inexplicable change of subject. "Therefore, we must right as many wrongs as we can, if it lies within our ability."

  "That sounds—deep." Charla blinked at me. She didn't say what else she thought—that she was confused by my statement.

  "Tell me," I turned toward her. "If you saw someone trip and fall, would you hold out a hand to lift them up, or sniff at their clumsiness and walk past?"

  "I'd help them up if I could."

  "And that is why you are a special guest of the King and Queen of the Avii. Want tea? I think Gurnil may have some in the Library."

  "I'd love tea."

  Randl

  "This was a futile search," Kooper said, sounding more than a bit accusatory. "We found nothing that could have affected the Gant family that wouldn't have affected others, too. We've even interviewed friends and relatives who'd seen them up to a month before their deaths, and they recall nothing out of the ordinary with any of them."

  He hadn't delivered the lecture by comp-vid, either. He paced before my desk while snake scales appeared and disappeared on his neck and arms. He was more than frustrated, and felt helpless in the face of this mystery.

  "How's the baby doing?" I asked as quietly as I could.

  "The baby is fine—nothing out of the ordinary with it," Kooper grumbled. "For now, it's in government custody, but there's nothing to prevent the release to the closest relatives, who are waiting to take it in."

  "At least that's one bright spot in this awful mess," I sighed.

  "We've gone through the local waste recycler, but that's just a mash of everything they've discarded, plus what came from their neighborhood."

  "Do you still have it?" I asked.

  "We moved it to a holding tank. You're welcome to go take a whiff—but I warn you, it's completely foul."

  "I'll come take a whiff, then," I offered.

  "I'll transport us," Kooper offered.

  Dori, I'm taking a short trip with Kooper. Be back in a few, I sent mindspeech.

  All right. Keep us posted.

  Will do.

  With a nod, Kooper folded us to the ASD facility, where the holding tank was located.

  "Something's off, here, and it's not just the stench," I said after studying the tank for a few minutes.

  Kooper, standing not far away, hadn't taken his eyes away from me the entire time. "Can you be more specific?" he asked.

  "It's minute, but there's a bit of a feel from the Prophet."

  "You think they threw something away that he'd contaminated?"

  "That's what it feels like for now. Since this has already been ground up for recycling, and it's as much liquid as solid, I don't know how you're going to pinpoint any particular source," I said. "Especially since none of that ever shows up on any scientific measuring device."

  "Fuck." Kooper swiped the back of his neck with a hand. At this point, we were both frustrated.

  He didn't say it, but he was concerned about the same thing I was—that however this had happened to the Gant family, it could happen again to another unsuspecting household.

  "I'll ask somebody to do an analysis, to see if any concrete components are in this tank," Kooper shook his head. "This is infuriating."

  "Don't let this overwhelm you," I advised. "We have to take a longer road than we want on this, and as you said, it's infuriating."

  "I've chased Vardil Cayetes from one end of the Alliances to the other, and I never felt this frustrated," Kooper said.

  "Vardil used methods we could eventually name and define," I said. "This—defies anything anyone has ever seen or dealt with."

  Kooper didn't add that Vardil's death had come at the hands of Zaria—that kill wasn't his. He'd wanted it, though. Again, it revealed the differences in his position and the one Zaria held.

  She wasn't constricted by a set of rules mapped by the Hierarchy. I didn't point out to Kooper that even if he weren't held to those rules, he'd still be no farther along that we currently were, and hadn't held the necessary resources to track Vardil Cayetes at the end, either.

  He'd be no farther along
with the Prophet than he'd been with Vardil's locations and dealings, had Zaria not become involved.

  Pulling out his comp-vid, Kooper tapped commands to a science team. It could take days to go through the contents of the entire tank.

  "So, I found the stink of the Prophet in their house, but not on them. Then, we find more evidence here, in the waste from their neighborhood. This is mind-boggling," I said. "Will you forward the autopsy reports to me? I think I'd like Markus and Miz to take a look, after I go through them."

  "I'll do it now," Kooper tapped his comp-vid again. "You should have it by the time you get back to the ship."

  "Thanks. I'll let you know if anything sticks out."

  "You do that. I assume you can get yourself back?"

  "Yes."

  I disappeared before I could read more frustration in his features.

  "Are you sure it won't bother you?" I did a comp-vid conversation with Quin, rather than sending mindspeech. I asked if she'd review the autopsy reports, too.

  "I'll get through it," she said. "If you're concerned, then I am, too. At least we know they weren't poisoned—Kooper's people went through the food and drinks at the home and found nothing."

  "They found nothing they can detect with normal devices," I said. "We're not looking for those things."

  "True. How long before we know whether there were any components of recycled concrete or human bone in the collected waste?"

  "Kooper says it could take days to go through the entire tank."

  "Horrible, isn't it?"

  "Yes."

  "At least they got to it before it went through the treatment facility, to break it down further."

  "I know." The thought of it made me want to shiver, and certainly turned my stomach. If Kooper hadn't held up the process, the whole thing could be on its way to being used as compost, somewhere.

  "Randl?" Trent tapped on my open office door.

  "Quin, I'll talk to you later. I think Trent has information."

  She signed off quickly, so I turned off my comp-vid and nodded for Trent to take a chair.

  "We know Nari and Tiri are working with some of Mae'Sandar's things," he began.

  "They have hair from her brush, some favorite jewelry and such," I agreed.

  "What if we had something a bit more—personal?"

  "Like what?" I refused to read Trent, so he could reveal his story at his own pace.

  "Well, Sabrina looked at what you did to search for evidence of the kidnap victims—in case they showed up on Alliance cameras or scanners. She thinks that if we had something of Mae's from when she turns, that it could be used like a beacon to identify her—even from a distance. She says that she can take the scanner tech she just developed for Ca'Lex, and with your spellwork or whatever it is you do, you may be able to hone it to recognize Mae out of thousands of other individuals scanned."

  "Now there's a thought," I said. "Like if we were flying by empty or abandoned planets, we could scan them, to see what's there?"

  "That's what she's aiming for."

  "Damn. We need that like yesterday," I stood and rubbed my forehead. "I'll talk to Miz. Maybe he knows of something we can use. Tell Sabrina to get to work on her end, and I'll see what we can do on the power side of the equation."

  "I think you can do whatever you did for the scanners in the Alliances," Trent added softly. "I know Sabrina wants to find Mae, but I'd like to find any of them. It could lead us to the Prophet's hideout. Once we have that information, we can deal with him and his remaining minions."

  "Is she already working on this?"

  "Yes. She was refining the design we used for Ca'Lex, when this idea came to her."

  "See if she wants help from Miz—I know he wants to be involved any way he can."

  "I'll ask. He's like a walking comp-vid anyway."

  "Keep me updated on the progress," I said. "I'll consider the best way to hone in on Mae while Sabrina is working with the design."

  "I'll do that." Trent rose from his chair, nodded and folded away, leaving me standing beside my desk, considering all the possibilities.

  It might have been helpful to us if we'd preserved even a shred of the Prophet's dead army on Campiaa to analyze. We may have been able to pinpoint their worlds of origin from DNA samples.

  Instead, I'd transported all the active, reanimated dead to Tiralia, and they'd been consumed by the planet's poisonous atmosphere. When the attack on Campiaa was over, every scrap and ash of those bodies blasted well enough to disable them disappeared, leaving us with only wrecked buildings and the dead and injured of Campiaa to deal with.

  V'dar had carefully thought out his attack, start to finish.

  What he hadn't done, though, was consider himself the loser in the fight. Because I'd hurt him afterward, I was now his main focus for revenge.

  I worried that everything else that was happening had been planned for a very long time. Tapping my comp-vid, I gave it a voice command. "Bring up the records of the Prophet's attack on Campiaa, and any information prior to the attack," I said.

  "Retrieving requested information," a pleasant voice replied.

  Perhaps there was something we'd missed in the landslide of other occurrences on Campiaa. The only way to determine that was to go through everything, line by line.

  Again.

  Chapter 7

  BlackWing XIII

  Randl

  I toyed with the gold coin from Vogeffa II while I read information on my comp-vid. That's where Dori found me when it was time for our evening meal together.

  "Stop spinning that coin and come eat," she pretended gruffness.

  "All right." I gave her a lop-sided grin before standing and pocketing the coin. I'd considered delving into its history again, but couldn't bring myself to do it. Searching its past could prove too painful, now that I knew it had once been in my mother's possession.

  I wasn't ready to see more mistreatment aimed at her. Besides, I could still hear Pap's words in my mind—you find this bastard, and you teach him a lesson he'll never forget.

  "Let's go," I gestured toward the door of my office. "Lead the way, my lady."

  "Hey." Dori and I were nothing more than a tangle of naked limbs when we woke. Our food was still sitting on the table inside our suite—I'd placed a warming spell on it before we'd turned to other things, and now I was quite hungry.

  Reaching in, I smoothed blonde hair away from her forehead as she growled her satisfaction at being next to me in bed. "Hmmph," I chuckled at her and dropped a kiss on her nose.

  "Hungry," she yawned and opened her eyes.

  "Me, too. Wanna eat?"

  "Yeah. Can you have the server-bot bring it?"

  "I can transport it to the bed. If you spill your soup, though, that's on you."

  "You're so funny." She pulled away and scooted into a sitting position.

  As promised, I floated the food to the bed, setting the plates gently on our laps, while keeping the soup bowls suspended several inches above the covers.

  "Nice." Dori lifted a spoon and dipped into the floating soup bowl. "Tomato. I love tomato soup."

  "Me, too. And nowadays, I don't have to wait until my mental vision adjusts before I can eat it."

  "Cori and Marco's baby is teething," Dori said as she dunked her spoon into the soup bowl again. "Cori says it's driving them crazy, but they didn't want to ask for help, because it's a natural part of a baby's growth."

  "They still mad because we're together?"

  "Not after what you did on Campiaa. Marco gave you props for that, and Sal may have had a few words with him, too. The family is good with us being together. Mom and Dad keep asking when we can visit."

  "That's a good question. I don't have an answer," I admitted.

  "I sort of told them that. They'll have to accept that we can't drop everything and turn up every eight-day or two. Besides, their only grandchild is keeping them busy—they help with the teething fussiness half the time."

  "Isn'
t that what grandparents are for?" I grinned at Dori.

  "I think so. Cori wouldn't get any sleep at all if it wasn't for Mom and Dad. And," she hesitated for a moment.

  "What?" I stopped cutting into my pork roast for a moment to look at her.

  "They're hoping you can see what sort of shifter the baby will be."

  "Penny's tiny, still. She should be allowed to grow into her shifter, whatever that turns out to be," I frowned.

  "Well, you and I may know that, but when it comes to parents," she shrugged.

  "Yeah. I get that. Maybe I'll have a look. In a few years."

  "Jerk." She elbowed me half-heartedly. "This is my niece we're talking about."

  "You know," I said, "My father never placed expectations on me. Maybe it was because I was born blind, and on Vogeffa II, being blind was often a death sentence. My father loved me anyway. Had I not been born with the talent I have, he'd still have done his best to see me raised to adulthood and able to function as well as I could on my own."

  "Randl," Dori set her fork on the plate in her lap and dipped her chin, making blonde curls fall forward to cover half her face, "You were never just a blind man. Or a blind child. Do you know how grateful I am for that?"

  She lifted her head and turned to blink at me. Love for me shone in her eyes. "I never thought somebody would love me like this," I confessed and leaned in to kiss her. "That is what I am more than grateful for."

  "We're just a mutual admiration society of two, aren't we?" she murmured and kissed me again.

  "That works out great for me," I said. "How about you?"

  "Wouldn't have it any other way."

  Randl, mindspeech came from Travis, interrupting the moment between Dori and me. There's another family dead—this time on Pyrik.

  The differences between the Gant family and the Lindom family were that Pyrik was a CSD world and there were two of the Lindom family who weren't at home when the carnage started.

  The father and eldest son had gone out of town for a school trip, and they'd found the other three members dead on their return—the mother, the middle son and younger daughter.