MindRogue

by Connie Suttle

  Dad was furious about it, too; he merely hadn't voiced his opinion as yet. I watched his jaw work as he ground his teeth. How do you fight this? I had no ready solutions. The Prophet was playing Russian roulette with people's lives, as Gran would say.

  "Do you think it's as simple as dropping a single apple into a barrel?" Tybus asked Kell.

  "I worry that it is exactly like that," Kell replied. "There's no reason to target either of those families. They have no ties to any government, have only the standard military service if that, and never served in the field while there."

  Kell and Opal had done thorough research on both families—up to a point. "Were any of them having affairs outside the home?" I asked.

  "We're working on sorting that out, too," Opal said. "We've found nothing so far, but we still have a few friends and neighbors to interview."

  They'd considered the transmission by sex angle, just as I had, but to our knowledge, the Prophet wasn't aware of that possibility, yet. I worried that he'd discover it if he hadn't already, and then we'd be in more trouble than we already were.

  "We're still working on how and when the Chief Forensics Specialist got away," Kooper said. "I'm having all his recent movements tracked, hoping to uncover more information."

  "We're having a real manpower problem," Jett said. "Too many things to investigate, and not enough people to do the work," he directed his remarks at Dad.

  "I'm asking Ildevar for investigative resources from the RAA," Kooper said. It was a good idea—the Regular Alliance Army had their own arm of intelligence operatives, some of whom were on par with Kooper's people.

  "Can we do that, too?" I asked Dad. "Conscript Regular Campiaan Army operatives for a temporary assignment?"

  "I'll speak with Generals and Admirals this afternoon," Dad said. "Jett, I'll let you know how many they can reassign temporarily afterward."

  "Thank you," Jett said. "That will relieve some of the pressure."

  "Randl, what do you have?" Kooper turned to him, now. He'd remained silent up to now, listening intently to everything said.

  "I'm telling you what's likely to happen in the future," he said.

  "What's that?" Kooper didn't sound happy.

  "He won't identify himself, but the Prophet will be asking for information on me. He knows you have a price on my head, now, and is likely following every scrap of information published in any way about me. He may go so far as to offer an exchange—making the slaughter of innocent families cease—for any reliable word on me, so he can more easily track me down."

  "What does this mean?" I asked.

  "It means I have to step up my game on crimes committed—without actually committing any. Kooper, whenever you catch any real pirates in the act of committing a crime, then those crimes, whenever possible, need to be attributed to me and the BlackWing fleet. Feel free to tell everyone that I've taken over the BlackWing Pirates, because that much is true."

  "You mean, take what the real pirates do and twist those crimes slightly to lay the blame on you?"

  "Yes. If any pirate ships get destroyed while attacking transports, then lie and say more got away. It'll be better if the criminals are killed in the commission of the crime, but use your own judgment. The more false information we can feed the Prophet, the better off we may be."

  "He'll be gunning for the entire fleet," Jayna said, sounding alarmed.

  "That's why we need to leave at least half the BlackWing ships out of this. Let them keep their alter egos in place during this operation. Only ask those who are willing to have the Prophet target them to fly under the BlackWing flag."

  "I can do that," Kooper appeared thoughtful.

  "Queen Lissa, will you coordinate with Quin, and make the final decisions on whether a serious crime is suitable to attribute to me?" Randl turned to Gran.

  "I can do that," Gran nodded. "Easily."

  He was asking her to employ a certain amount of power to make reasonable determinations. I didn't blame him in this. With Quin and Gran both considering the crimes in question, I felt we'd be relatively safe in twisting the facts a bit.

  "Does he have any ships left to chase you down?" Tybus spoke for the first time, to ask Randl a question.

  "I don't know. If he doesn't, I figure he's working to get some. He's able to fold space, but I doubt many of his minions can do it. Having ships enables his troops to be in several places at once."

  "He wasn't counting on the RAA and RCA to fight his newly-acquired fleet in Campiaan space," Dad said. "We destroyed his fleet—or most of it, I'm sure."

  "I feel confident he threw everything he could at us," Randl agreed. "He'll be looking for more ships, if he hasn't found some already."

  "I'll make sure the word gets out to increase security in shipyards and such," Jett said.

  "As will I," Kooper blew out a frustrated breath. "Fuck. Knock one head down and a dozen more pop up."

  "Well, it's either a hydra or a game of whack-the-mole," Gran drawled. "The hydra is more evil. I'll go with that one."

  "Are there any criminal factions left with a fleet of ships?" Jayna asked.

  "There may be a few. I'd say most of those are outside both Alliances," Jett replied.

  "I agree. After the Prophet took over two of the Big Three, and Randl took the third one, the rest have only a few ships here and there inside Alliance air space." Kooper made a face as he considered the possibilities.

  "The Big Three had a sizeable fleet available for the Prophet to take, and he managed to take two-thirds of it easily. What remains is more scattered and would require more time and effort—unless he decides to go after military fleets. Perhaps it is time to consider unusual uprisings that would require their presence," Jett offered.

  "Do you think he has something planned?" Dad asked.

  "It's possible," Randl responded. "Are there any missions scheduled that require more than one or two Alliance ships?"

  "There's nothing now," Kooper said.

  "That doesn't mean the Prophet won't manufacture something," Jett pointed out. "He could easily start a rebellion on an Alliance world."

  "True," Gran said. "We'll be keeping a careful watch on anything like that from now on."

  "I want his head," Kooper growled. "The Prophet. I really need suggestions on how to find him—faster."

  "We're working on that, but we need time," Randl said. "He won't make it easy, you can bet on that."

  "Nothing has been easy where he's concerned," Dad noted. He was still angry that the Prophet had not only destroyed much of Campiaa City, but had killed or kidnapped so many of its citizens. Like Kooper, he felt helpless against an enemy of this magnitude.

  Unlike Kooper, Dad didn't blame Randl for not capturing or killing the Prophet already. He knew, as did I, how long it had taken to track and destroy Vardil Cayetes and his bunch.

  It had taken decades, and Zaria was the one to destroy him at the end.

  The Prophet wasn't going about his takeover in the usual fashion, though, and Kooper didn't like scrambling to combat new threats he couldn't fight with his regular troops.

  This time, Randl was working against the Prophet, with Zaria's help. Somehow, that irked Kooper, too.

  Gran, I sent. Why is Kooper upset that Randl is the one going against the Prophet?

  Because he can't, even with the power he has. The Prophet is a special case, and Kooper is frustrated that he has little in his personal arsenal to take him down.

  This stems from frustration?

  Kooper isn't used to this kind of threat, and a feeling of impotence is never a good thing. Your Aunt Bree is aware of the situation.

  Aunt Bree. The Mighty Heart. I hoped she could redirect Kooper's frustration, then, to keep Randl unfettered in his search for the Prophet. He didn't need another worry to weigh him down.

  Is there anything we can do?

  I'm not sure. I'll think on that, Gran replied.

  Kend Industries Warehouse, Jaledis

  Le'Vestar Lim
n

  Yurik wanted to growl at the Prophet's recently-acquired servant, Jiles. Jiles was young, a criminal, and a warlock. Folding space and petty theft appeared to be his complete repertoire. I imagined he was a low priority as criminals went on the King of Karathia's wanted lists.

  With an obsession placed by the Prophet, that low priority status could change quickly. Jiles was the Prophet's new toy, and he'd employed his limited talents already to steal food and other necessities. Now, Jiles had gotten us into a warehouse, so I could search for a suitable machine to manufacture missing parts for an old starship. I hoped to find raw materials, too, or we'd be forced on another trip to get them.

  If Mae and I had been sent together, we'd have attempted escape. She'd been commanded to stay behind, so I was accompanied by Yurik and Jiles, who were particularly unhelpful in looking for the proper machine and materials. While I searched the massive warehouse for a suitable parts replicator, however, an idea was forming in my brain.

  An idea that involved repairing an ancient starship, and then convincing the Prophet to allow Mae and me to stay on board, in case more repairs were needed.

  Once aboard and away from the Prophet, we'd make our escape—provided we could successfully throw off the Prophet's hold and become what we truly were.

  Neither Yurik nor Jiles understood what was needed; they merely wandered through a cluttered warehouse like lost souls, staring at things they didn't comprehend.

  "Here," I called out softly. I'd found what was needed—granted it was an older model and quite large, but it would certainly get the job done.

  "This," I pointed to the machine, sealed in clear plastic. On the outside, it bore an inspection sticker, telling me that it still worked. Not far away lay crates of manufacturing materials—metal, plastics and such.

  "Those, too," I pointed to the crates.

  If Jiles weren't obsessed, he'd have balked at moving such a large amount. As it was, he'd been instructed to do whatever Yurik said. Squaring his shoulders and shoving back a swath of too-long brown hair, Jiles prepared to move the required materials, the machine and three people.

  Founder's Palace, Campiaa

  Kooper

  The alarm went off on my comp-vid the same moment Jett's sounded. We were wrapping up the meeting when the emergency messages arrived.

  Jerking my comp-vid out of a pocket, I scanned the message. "Kend Industries' main warehouse was just burgled," I snapped. "A replicating machine and raw materials were taken."

  "By whom?" Randl stood immediately.

  "They don't know—all the security vids were killed while the thieves were in the warehouse. The alarm sounded the moment several items were removed from their pressure sensors."

  "Perhaps we should take a look," Jett said.

  "Randl, Jett, you're with me," I said and folded space.

  Kend Industries Warehouse, Jaledis

  Randl

  "Power was used to temporarily disable the security vids," Kooper said, staring at the static images recorded by security cameras.

  We stood behind the Chief Security Officer, who worked the console to show us what they had—or in this case, didn't have.

  "This warehouse holds most of our older, working models of replication machines and such," the chief told us. "One of the larger ones is missing," he tapped the console to bring up the image of an empty space in the warehouse. "And raw materials, too." He switched the camera to other empty spaces.

  "Do you know how it was done?" the chief asked Kooper. "These are state of the art security cameras, and it's impossible to use a device to take them out of service."

  "I'd say it was either a wizard or warlock," Kooper said. "Randl, do you think you can tell anything if we go down to the floor?"

  "I may be able to see something."

  "With your permission, Chief?" Kooper turned to him.

  "Come with me," the chief said. Jett, Kooper and I followed him to the trans-vator down the hall.

  Instead of going to the empty spaces, I chose objects that stood next to the empty spaces. Without the advantage of a wall, it was the best I had. Placing my hand on a large machine that lay adjacent to the missing replicator, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

  The images came immediately. "Three were here," I breathed. I didn't report it then, but one of those three I recognized immediately.

  Le'Vestar Limn, one of our missing Or'myr.

  The other thing I knew from seeing his image, was that he was working his way out of the obsession placed by the Prophet.

  The other two were so consumed by their obsession, I couldn't get anything other than their images.

  Kooper had a database, however, and I could employ power to recreate images to feed into that database. If there were any records anywhere, we'd learn who Le'Vestar's companions were.

  "Kooper," I said, opening my eyes and removing my hands from the machine I'd touched. "We may have big problems coming our way."

  Chapter 9

  ASD Headquarters, Le-Ath Veronis

  Randl

  "You think he's found a wrecked ship, or one that needs repairs, and he's commanding Le'Vestar and Mae'Sandar to get it ready to fly?" Kooper shook his head. His worries, like mine, had just increased ten-fold.

  "I think so," I said. "If they can repair one, then they can do the same for others. I never considered protecting impounds and scrapyards, but it looks like we need to."

  "Fuck. I have lists longer than the Kletic River of stolen goods from scrapyards," Kooper cursed. "Those are considered the lowest of low priorities. Nobody investigates those cases if they can help it."

  "No doubt that's why the Prophet has targeted them." Jett was already convinced that the Prophet was scavenging scrapyards for parts or junked ships. "In fact, he could have obsessed who knows how many scrapyard employees, to let him know when anything arrives that he'd want."

  "It makes sense when you put it like that," Kooper tossed out a hand. "Fuck. Planet-fucking hells," he growled.

  "Can you get images and information on scrapyard owners and employees to Quin?" I asked. "We really need to know if they're obsessed, and if they are, what's been taken from their businesses."

  "We should be discreet—we don't want to alert the Prophet that we know of this new enterprise," Jett cautioned.

  "I know," Kooper kneaded his forehead. "I'll get Quin on this right away. Randl, did you see anything else in Le'Vestar?"

  "Only that he's working on throwing off the obsession. It still lingers and prevents him from changing to his dragon or protecting himself. I imagine Mae is in the same state, and he won't leave her behind—that's why he didn't attempt to escape while on Jaledis."

  "We have information on one of the two thieves," Kell and Opal arrived. Kell handed a comp-vid to Kooper.

  "Jiles Tamber, Second-level warlock and petty thief," he handed the comp-vid to me after scanning information quickly.

  "That's him, all right. The Prophet now has a warlock, and may be looking for more."

  "I'll let King Rylend know where this one is," Jett said when I handed the comp-vid to him. "This will certainly move Jiles up the wanted lists."

  "Any suggestions before I send you back to work?" Kooper asked.

  "I do have a suggestion, and a gift for you," I said.

  "What's that?"

  "Here," I handed a memory chip to him. "Travis offered. I didn't have anything to do with it."

  "What is it?" Kooper fingered the tiny chip.

  "An invitation from his father and grandfather," I said.

  "Drake and Dragon?" Kooper was puzzled and curious at the same time.

  They want to teach you meditation. Dragon was Warlord on Falchan during the worst wars that planet ever saw. I think he knows a thing or two about stress, and how to relieve it. I hope you will take this in the good spirit it was offered, I added.

  At that moment, I could read Kooper easily. If he admired anyone, it was the Dragon Warlord. I'll give this serious thought
, he replied.

  Thank you. Tension drained from my body—I worried that Kooper would find it an insult and refuse the help.

  "I'm gone," I said. "Contact me if you need anything." I folded space back to the ship.

  Avii Castle

  Quin

  "He used to work for my mother," Charla said when I showed her the image of a scrapyard mogul. "I saw him many times—I had to allow him to stay at my house on Campiaa whenever he wanted to gamble. My mother insisted."

  I'd seen Jewl's image in Ex'ero Plumb's. Thankfully, he wasn't obsessed. Some of the others were, and I'd already sent that information to Kooper.

  "He's Crillie," Charla admitted, turning pink. "I always assumed he and my mother," her face turned a deeper pink.

  Crillie. I wanted to turn pink, too. Crillie men were equipped with two penises instead of one, each operating independently of the other. There were plenty of jokes about Crillie men, too. I cleared my throat and pretended I hadn't heard any of them.

  I need images of all of Ex'ero Plumb's employees, I sent to Kooper.

  Is he obsessed, too?

  No. Not yet, but he has more than seventy scrapyards, and there's nothing to keep his managers and employees from being obsessed.

  That's true, Kooper agreed. He's Crillie, you know. There's a joke about him fucking his patrons twice on the costs of his parts and scrap, Kooper added.

  I think that joke may be told about any Crillie business owner, I responded, feeling my face turn hot.

  That could be, Kooper said.

  Charla says she saw him plenty of times—that he worked for Jewl, I changed the subject quickly. She says that her mother and Ex'ero may have been lovers.

  I'll let Randl know. This may work to our advantage in some way, Kooper sounded thoughtful. Find out everything you can from Charla, and keep me informed.

  Of course, Director.

  BlackWing XIII

  Randl

  "He's Crillie?" Dori's eyes were wide as she stared at Ex'ero Plumb's image. She, Travis, Trent and I sat at a table in the galley, discussing the latest information.