MindRogue

by Connie Suttle

  "I worry that the Prophet may know exactly where Mebbers is, while we're still fumbling around trying to find him," Markus said. "Are we only taking X and XIII?"

  "I don't know. Maybe Randl does," I lifted my beer and drank.

  "Might be nice to get some help," Markus observed. "We have no idea what kind of forces Mebbers has, and if the Prophet is waiting, too, he can command the dead."

  "That opened up a few unexpected graves," David shuddered.

  Randl, I sent. I think Jett needs to pay attention to any cemeteries and mausoleums on A'pelur.

  Dude, you just gave me the willies. I'll pass that along, for sure.

  A'pelur was acustomed to burying their dead, and a quick search on my comp-vid revealed that graveyards were everywhere.

  Fucking hells.

  P'loxett

  V'dar

  "We have no new information to report," Perill informed me. Perill was more than motivated to find Varok; they were brothers.

  "Any guesses, then?" I toyed with my spheres. They and others like them had been gifts from my father before his death. More and more, they weighed on my mind, until I had at least two in my pocket at all times.

  "It could be anywhere, my Lord, including Wyyld II, Le-Ath Veronis or Kifirin."

  "Hmmm," I considered his choices. The High Demons of Kifirin would be formidable foes, but they'd never volunteered for such duties before. That left Le-Ath Veronis or Wyyld II. I doubted the Founder of the Reth Alliance would want my employees anywhere near him, because of the threat I represented.

  That left Le-Ath Veronis. Its Queen was also formidable, but its people could become vulnerable if I turned my attention to them. Not the vampires, mind, but the comesuli and humanoids.

  All would come to me if commanded.

  Still, the difficulty with Mebbers was nagging at me, too. "If Le-Ath Veronis holds Varok and the others, then they will continue to do so. They have a convenient habit of keeping prisoners safe and well-fed while they have them, and neither Varok nor Jiles will give them information. Is my ship ready?"

  "It went for a trial run this morning," Perill dipped his head.

  "Very good. I should make a short trip to A'pelur to do some advanced recruiting; this way, things will go much easier when we arrive."

  "It will be as you say, my Lord." Perill dipped his head again and turned to leave. The moment he closed the door behind him, I rose from my seat, straightened my clothing, and folded space to A'pelur.

  Chapter 16

  BlackWing XIII

  Randl

  "No disturbed graves so far," Trent slid onto a guest chair in my office.

  "Are they watching the graveyards and such, now?" I asked.

  "With as much manpower as they can spare, which isn't much," Trent grumbled. "I'm not sure they took the concerns seriously, either. Jett is having a standoff with the A'pelurian Prime Minister."

  "Fuck. I have a coin trip with Vik today, or I'd go myself."

  "I could go," Trent began.

  "No. If there is even the slightest chance the Prophet could show up," I said. "That's from your Commander. And your friend."

  "What about security forces on the ground, then?" he countered.

  "I think they'd have the good sense to run if they saw a grave opening."

  "Well, there's that," Trent agreed.

  "As long as I'm in split-time, I don't want anybody going ahead with that idea."

  "All right."

  "Tell Jett to compromise with the Prime Minister. Tell the Prime Minister to aim discreet cameras on those places. If any of them are disturbed or interfered with, he should inform Jett right away."

  "Because that could be the Prophet's doing," Trent nodded.

  "Exactly. That cuts down on necessary manpower—one person can watch several camera feeds at once."

  "I'll relay the information to Jett now."

  "Good. Send a message to Dori when you get his answer."

  "You rang?" Vik rapped on my open door.

  "I did. We'll talk later," I waved as Travis disappeared.

  "Road trip time, huh?" Vik, with both blades strapped to his back and his black leathers on, slid onto a chair with a slight creaking sound.

  "I call it a coin trip, but it's the same thing." I rose from my chair, stretched and Pulled both my sheathed blades into my hands. Strapping on the harness, I watched as Vik considered the pile of coins on my desk before selecting one.

  "Ready?" He stood and held the coin out to me.

  "Would it change anything if I wasn't?"

  "Hmmph. Not likely," he grimaced. Reaching out, I touched the coin and slipped us into split-time.

  Is anybody here? Vik sent as we walked through empty hallway after deserted corridor, inside a massive, dome-shaped building.

  I don't sense anything, and I don't hear anything either, I said.

  Why did it bring us here? He asked, meaning the coin. We were traveling toward the center of the building, because the curved halls were getting sharper in their turns.

  Prepare for a trap, I cautioned. Would someone finally be able to see us, here? The air held the heavy scent of fear, and I had no explanation for it. Everything was spotless, too, without a mote of dust anywhere. If the place had been abandoned, as it appeared to Vik and me, it should have been otherwise.

  Doorways on our journey were all open, revealing empty rooms beyond. No furnishings of any kind were left there for us to consider. The walls were a pale, hazy blue, with no signs of normal wear on them. The stone floor, of variegated browns, looked the same—as if ours were the first feet to walk upon it.

  The last turn we made led us straight to the center of the building, opening onto an enormous, grand theater of sorts—also empty. Row upon row of circular, stone seats stretched downward toward a large, round dais. I blinked at my surroundings, while the fear in the air increased.

  It is a sanctuary—for sacrifices made to the god, the woman sent while coalescing.

  Vik, as usual, saw nothing.

  Which god? I asked, tasting bile in my throat.

  The god who always comes at the last, she replied. We have to go; time is running short and we are in danger.

  But, I protested. Except for the feel of increasing fear, I saw no danger here. The building was empty and I'd seen none but her.

  We are in what you call split-time, here. I cannot hold it long—there is a sacrifice taking place now.

  My breath stopped at her words.

  Vik, I turned toward him, we have to go now.

  Take these with you, the woman said. My mouth opened in a silent shout when gold and silver coins poured from her open hands, flew in a curved flight and pounded into my back—so forcefully that I staggered as some of them hit me.

  Go. Now. She shouted at me after the last coin struck. Swiftly, I turned toward Vik as she faded from my sight and the sanctuary came to life with the roar of a huge, bloodthirsty crowd. I grabbed Vik's arm, flying out of split-time and back to the ship.

  Vik screamed in anger the entire way; it seems he'd also caught sight of what had been hidden from us all along—the sacrifices being made on the dais far below.

  Sacrifices to the god who always comes at the last.

  BlackWing X

  Travis

  Vik couldn't stop breathing smoke. Clouds of it rose and dissipated about his head as he paced inside my quarters.

  So far, he'd been too angry to speak; he'd growled instead as he made turns in the short space opposite my bed. I wasn't sure how long it would take for him to calm down enough to form coherent words.

  "Can you tell me anything?" I asked after a while.

  "Sacrifices. Fucking, bloody Ra'Ak, rogue gods, who the hell knows what else was there," he flung up a hand and went back to pacing.

  "You didn't bring anyone back this time, did you?"

  "Something happened, so we didn't see any of it until the last, and that's when Randl grabbed me and got us the hell out of there."

&n
bsp; "He probably did the right thing. He'd stay and fight unless the odds were overwhelming."

  "It was that, all right. To the tenth power, at least."

  "Where is he? Randl?"

  "Went straight to his office and shut the door. He's probably fuming, too. When I left, Dori was knocking on the door and yelling at him to let her in."

  "That's not good. Look, want a drink? I think I need one."

  "I'll take a bottle of the strongest thing you have."

  "All right." Reaching into the bottom drawer in my bedside chest, I pulled out a full bottle of bourbon and handed it to him. "Pour one glass for me—the rest is yours," I said.

  BlackWing XIII

  Randl

  The sun and moon of my back tattoo now glittered gold and silver, because that's where the coins had embedded themselves.

  How the fuck would I explain this to Dori, let alone anyone else? Vik hadn't seen the people I had in split-time, so my refusal to talk about it had now come to haunt me.

  I'd finally sent mindspeech to Dori after she kept pounding on my office door; I told her we'd seen a sacrifice happening, and I needed to collect my thoughts. She'd left me alone after that.

  I did need to collect my thoughts—after colliding with hundreds of coins, which were now attached to my body. I couldn't remove them, even with power. I'd tried that already and it was painful, so I let them be.

  Dori my love, will you meet me in our cabin? I sent.

  I'll be right there.

  Thank you. I folded space to our shared cabin and removed my shirt. Time to come clean with my beloved, first.

  "What is it?" she asked, the moment the door closed behind her.

  "I want you to look at my tattoo and tell me if anything's different."

  "Turn around," she made a circle with a finger. I turned my back to her, so she could see for herself.

  "Did something happen?" she said. "Because I'm not finding anything."

  "What?" I whirled to face her.

  "It looks like it always does," she shrugged. "So, what happened?"

  "I uh, got hit with some stuff. I thought it might have damaged the tattoo."

  "Let me look closer." She gripped my arms and moved me around to look at the tattoo again. Her hands on my back sent shivers through me—it was something she often did in foreplay. I chewed my lower lip when my body responded in the usual way.

  "Honey, I don't see it. You must be tougher that you think," she swatted my shoulder. "Now, do you want to talk about what you saw, or do you want to think about it some more?"

  "I still need to digest it," I said, turning to kiss her. "Give me a few, all right? Vik's talking to Travis about it—as much as he can. It was really bad."

  "I don't know how you can just walk into those situations and not come back scarred for life," she said.

  "Just kiss me again, and get it out of my head," I coaxed.

  "I'd be happy to," she replied.

  Zanfield

  "Two more days before we reach A'pelur," David said. "We'll recharge while in orbit."

  "Vik's drunk," I said.

  "Is that what you came to tell me?"

  "It is."

  "Where is he?"

  "Asleep in his cabin. I had to ask Mak and Jak to carry him there; he passed out right after he skipped into the galley."

  "You think he needs to be in the infirmary?"

  "No. He just needs to sleep it off, I think."

  "Did you report it to Randl?"

  "No—he and ah, the Captain are both in their cabin."

  "I—see," David nodded.

  "It can happen—people often turn to sex for some reason after a death or deaths, as in this case."

  "How did you find that out? That there were deaths?"

  "From Travis. He said to let you know, since you're the senior officer in charge at the moment."

  "I am, eh?"

  "That's what he said."

  "Nice. Well, carry on," David made a shooing motion. "I'll contact Markus and Miz. They shouldn't wake anyone unless it's an emergency."

  Perri

  "Do you know what happened?" I asked.

  Zanfield set a cup of tea on the other side of my galley table and sat down with a sigh. "It ah, appears that Vik and Randl saw something horrible and came back to the ship in a rush to get away from it." He stared out the nearby window without really watching stars slip past. I watched his face as he sipped tea—it had become a mask to conceal what he knew.

  "You don't want to tell me what it was, do you?" I couldn't decide whether that upset me or made me feel protected because he wanted to hold it back from harming me in some way.

  "I don't—but not because I don't want you to know. I don't want it to upset you. Vik is drunk and passed out in his quarters because of it—so it's not an easy thing to hear."

  "Tell me in the shortest, blandest terms, then," I said.

  "Sacrifices. The humanoid kind. They couldn't save any of them."

  "Oh." After a moment, when all sorts of scenarios passed through my imagination, I shivered.

  "I wanted to keep that from happening." Zanfield noticed the shiver, since he was now watching me carefully.

  "I appreciate that," I told him. "But what kind of agent will I be if bad news or horrible things wreck me every time?"

  "Vik has been an agent for years," Zanfield pointed out. "You see how he's sleeping off a drinking binge after seeing horrible things."

  I blinked at Zanfield. He was right. Plus, Vik was High Demon, and they were scary as hell to begin with. "That puts things into perspective," I nodded at his assessment. "How do you know all this?"

  "I've had plenty of time to study anything I wanted," he shrugged. "I know enough about psychology, because well, because. I could get a practitioner's certificate if I wanted. I do have a med-tech's license, and can set a broken bone if I have to."

  "You have a med-tech's license? Why?" I couldn't figure out why a very wealthy man would bother with that sort of thing.

  "To see if I could do it. I could have gotten a physician's license if I'd kept at it and attended classes, but I didn't want to be stared at every day because I was the one with all the money."

  "That sets you apart, doesn't it?" I was only beginning to understand that.

  "Yes. Everybody in both Alliances knows about Zanfield Staggs. A lot of people outside the Alliances know about me, too. I'm envied, cursed and targeted no matter where I go. That's why it's nice to be here. Randl and the crew don't look at me that way, so I'm grateful. And, this is a wish fulfilled. I've wanted to do this since I was young. I had no idea it would ever be possible in the real world."

  "What did you have to do to convince them?"

  "I didn't. They initially came to me, because they needed help getting into a casino undercover. I provided their cover. Randl, though—when he acquired this ship, he asked me to be a part of the crew. That was the proudest moment of my life."

  "So, what are all those vids of you in costume at casinos about?" I asked.

  "People expect a show from eccentrics. I gave them that. Plus, I loved the uniforms."

  "I'd never have known," I teased him. He always looked as if he were freshly laundered and pressed, with the creases perfect on his uniform. I'd never seen him out of uniform, and only now realized that.

  "Do you wear something else for blade practice?" I asked. "Travis says we may be sparring soon—you with your off-hand, of course."

  "I do. Vik says it's stupid to ruin a uniform with practice, so I dress like a Falchani," he grinned.

  "Authentic to the smallest detail, I presume?"

  "What other way is there?"

  I giggled.

  I don't giggle.

  Ever.

  A smile curved Zanfield's lips; it lit his entire face.

  "We have a problem," Markus rushed into the galley, Miz right behind him.

  "What's that?" Zanfield was standing in a heartbeat, his chair scraping across the floor with a s
harp squeak.

  "Those two dead bodies are flailing inside their sealed container," Miz said, then shivered.

  At least I wasn't the only one to react that way to something horrific.

  Randl

  Akrinn and Lorvis stopped jerking shortly after they'd started. That's why Travis, Trent and I watched the recorded vid of it, over and over.

  "There aren't any planets for light years, except for A'pelur," Trent shook his head as we ran the images back to watch again. "Here's the time and location data," he pointed out the information on his comp-vid.

  "How close were we to A'pelur at the time?" I asked.

  "A day and a half out," Travis replied. "The other planets in that system are uninhabitable. As in you'll melt, your ship will melt—that sort of thing."

  "Do you think the Prophet visited A'pelur, then?" Trent asked.

  "I don't know what or who else could animate those bodies," I said. "Any word from A'pelur on interrupted vid recordings in graveyards?"

  "Nothing yet, but I'll contact Jett."

  "Send him a copy of this recording," I said. "This concerns me. Even if there's no evidence from A'pelur, it concerns me."

  "Are there maps of all graveyards on A'pelur?" I asked.

  "Pulling those up now," Travis said. "I've sent the information to you."

  "Send it to Quin, too."

  "Done."

  "Have Miz and Markus contact me immediately if those bodies so much as twitch again."

  "Will do."

  "Good. I'll be in my office, looking at graveyard maps."

  "I think there may be a song in that, somewhere."

  "Yeah. We'll write that one later," I waved a hand and folded into my office.

  I have an uneasy feeling about this, Quin sent. She and I were doing the same thing—scanning the maps of graveyards on A'pelur. How many are buried there—in your estimation?

  The records show nearly a billion marked burials, but you know he's always chosen the fresher graves. The trouble is, A'pelur has a very stringent embalming process, which preserves bodies sometimes for centuries, without much decomposition. Something to do with an old king who wanted to be preserved for eternity, so he laid down the law, as Travis would say. It survived through the transition to a Campiaan Alliance world.