Parsus issued a number of mental commands, then leaned back into the comfortable couch that occupied the elevated portion of his audience chamber.
The Twice Bound movement was about to meet its end.
The Dark Promise’s engineer, Drogo, retrieved his bag from beneath his bunk, reached inside, and extracted a rectangular hand-sized device that he tucked inside his tunic. Then, with a quick look outside the crewmen’s berth, he made his way to the stairs that led down to the ship’s engine room.
As he entered the machine-filled space, ship’s crewman Koloth looked up to meet him, her wide eyes questioning.
“Is this not your break?” she asked.
“I ate. Take your turn.”
Crewman Koloth acquiesced and set the tool she had been using down atop the leftmost of the hydro-jet engines. Before Drogo could change his mind, she made her way out of the engine room.
Drogo watched her climb the steps that led to the next deck, then made his way to the aft, where the jet nozzles exited the compartment.
As he knelt to place the device between those nozzles, he hesitated. Could he really betray his captain? Betray his people? He looked down at his hands and willed them to stop shaking.
Those Dhaldric demons had taken his wife and three children. This was the act that would save them, even if it meant they and the other Twice Bound would go back to the way things had been before the coming of The Ripper. But had that been so bad? No. He had been stupid to think that the Twice Bound could make a difference.
With a deep breath, Drogo flicked on the switch that electromagnetically attached the device to the hull. Then he reached for the button that would snuff out his worthless life and rob the Twice Bound of their vengeance.
Having finished making the deal that would result in the off-loading of his hold and a nice deposit into his merchant account, Moros headed back toward the dock, where his boat awaited its captain. Right now all he needed to do was to return to the Dark Promise and await The Ripper’s order to send the communication that would summon the distant fishing fleet.
But as he stepped onto the dock, an explosive shock wave dropped him on his back. He looked up to see a cloud of smoke from which the flying chunks of debris that had been the Dark Promise hurtled forth. All along the dock, the torn bodies of the dead lay scattered among the writhing, screaming forms of the wounded.
A warm wetness ran down the left side of his face, blurring his vision. When he attempted to rise, a wave of dizziness assailed him, accompanied by a wave of sorrow. Worse than the loss of his beloved Dark Promise was the knowledge that he would fail The Ripper. Without the communications gear on his vessel, he could not relay the message to the fishing fleet.
Finally, managing to rise, he was almost knocked back down by one of the emergency personnel who rushed onto the dock. As sirens echoed through the hovercraft bay, Captain Moros lifted his eyes to the massive edifice that formed the roof above him. Somewhere up there, the leader of the Twice Bound moved among their enemies.
As of a few moments ago, The Ripper was truly on his own.
As he walked along the beautiful arc of the Parthian’s outer walkway, Jack felt the loss of all but one of the Twice Bound crew of the Dark Promise, followed by the rumble of a distant explosion. Almost immediately, alarm Klaxons sounded throughout the Parthian. Coming to a stop as panicked Altreians raced past him, he turned to look out through the transparent wall at the expanse of sea. Since the docks were beneath the Parthian, the Dark Promise wasn’t visible to his eyes, but when his mind reached out to Moros, he could see the devastation through those of the captain.
Moros was injured and disoriented, so Jack sent him a soothing thought. “Captain Moros. Get yourself some medical attention, and don’t worry about me.”
“But the fleet—”
“The fleet was always a fallback plan. I’ll be fine without it.”
Refocusing his attention on the critical task that lay just ahead, Jack dropped his mental link with Moros. He squeezed his fists so tight that his knuckles popped, and he resumed his path toward the overlord’s chambers. The Ripper would have to do this the old-fashioned way after all.
Parsus could not sense the mind of the one called The Ripper, but his seekers informed him of the barbarian’s progress toward his chambers, still draped in the illusion of High Lord Shabett. So intensely were the overlord’s eyes focused on his door that he barely noticed the low rumble and slight tremor that vibrated up through the floor and into his feet. The alarm Klaxon and the accompanying mental update from the military operations center changed that.
Sabotage had finally reared its ugly head in the very bowels of the Parthian.
The explosive hadn’t been a big one, just enough to destroy a single fishing boat without producing significant damage to the hovercraft bay. The vessel had to have been small not to have triggered the detectors that scanned all inbound and outbound craft. The fact that this distraction had happened even as The Ripper strode these halls could be no coincidence.
The Ripper was not the only one with the power to hide minds from outside scrutiny. And now he was about to come up against the best that the Altreian Empire had to offer. Parsus was more than ready for him.
As he stumbled along with the crowd of the dazed and confused walking wounded, Moros thought about what The Ripper had told him. Take care of yourself . . . Don’t worry about me . . .I’m fine, or words to that effect. In all the cycles he had been captain of the Dark Promise, he had learned that if something looked like fish dung and smelled like fish dung, you didn’t need to taste it to be certain. And even though he couldn’t see it, The Ripper’s reassurance smelled like fish dung.
He stopped, turned around, and began moving against the flow of people leaving the docks. He didn’t head for the dock where the Dark Promise had blown up, but toward the second one to its right. Along the way he was stopped twice by well-meaning officials who attempted to direct him toward medical assistance. But when he showed his identity badge, informing them that he was the captain of the Green Fin, a fishing vessel that was docked there, and explained that ship’s procedure after any serious incident was for all hands to assemble on deck, he was allowed to continue. The well-established practice that enabled a captain to account for every member of his crew proved invaluable.
But instead of the fishing boats, Moros headed for the small sea-guard hovercraft that had been dry-docked for maintenance. Since all of the maintenance personnel had been evacuated from the docks, nobody was near the vessel. With a quick glance around, Captain Moros hopped aboard and ducked into the bridge.
Biometric recognition was normally required in order to power up the hovercraft’s systems. But this boat was in maintenance mode, which allowed those working on the vessel to power up to perform tests and make repairs. He couldn’t start the engines, but engaging the engines in dry dock was rarely a good idea. Luckily he was after something else.
Moros switched on the power for the subspace radio, surprised to see how his hands shook as he adjusted the settings and tuned in to the desired channel. He glanced down. Where had all that blood come from? Then he remembered his head wound, and that thought unleashed a wave of dizziness that narrowed his vision. Shock.
He gritted his teeth and continued, desperately aware of the passage of time. If one person of authority passed by and glanced into the hovercraft, the game would come to a rapid end. If this had been one of the fancy starships, its AI would have linked with the captain’s mind and helped him. Instead, Moros somehow had to gather the focus to do something he used to know but now couldn’t quite recall.
But then his fog cleared long enough for him to lock in the final settings, and he gasped with relief as the video connection happened.
The man at the far end looked as frazzled as he felt.
“Moros? What happen to you?” asked Captain Jantho.
“Sabotage. Best guess, a crew-member betrayal.”
Jantho issued a string
of curses.
Moros interrupted him. “Time to move the fleet closer.”
The darkness in Jantho’s look increased the tightness in Captain Moros’s chest.
“Would that I could. We have a traitor of our own. The sea slime sent a message to military command and we be attacked from the air. A third of the fleet lost before the remainder could submerge and disperse.”
The news robbed Moros of his breath. “Can you get nobody to come?”
There was a brief silence on the line as Captain Jantho rubbed his chin. “I come. Maybe others, though I know not how many.”
With growing despair clouding his vision, Moros wiped the blood from his eyes. “Gather those who be able, and make haste. The balance be weighted against us.”
Jantho inclined his head, and then the connection died.
As he powered down the equipment, a new voice snapped his head around.
“Who are you and what are you doing on my boat?”
If he had any luck at all, Moros would have now faced a returning member of the maintenance crew. Instead, he now found himself facing a Dhaldric sea-guard captain and his ensign, both of whom held pulse blasters leveled at the captain’s chest. Before he could answer, Moros’s tenuous grasp on consciousness faded away. He never felt himself hit the deck.
Jack felt the group of guards approaching from ahead before they rounded the gentle curve to become visible. He considered killing them, but that would lead to a violent confrontation with Parsus. And he couldn’t afford to kill Parsus. Not yet. Not until he extracted what he needed from within the overlord’s mind. But these men and women were definitely aware of his disguise and were advancing toward him with bad intent, weapons drawn. And without the presence of the Twice Bound, he wouldn’t be able to overcome the psionic help Parsus could give them.
As much as he hated to do this, he had to turn the situation over to the only one who could.
At last.
Khal Teth felt the thought try to growl its way out of his throat but stifled the impulse. Instead, he swatted the gnats who swarmed toward him.
As the twenty-three guards slumped unconscious to the floor, he dropped the Shabett illusion and stepped across their bodies, reveling in the barbarian appearance that The Ripper had adopted. He found his reaction strange, considering the disdain for physical prowess that the Dhaldric race had long maintained. But because this fit body seemed to sharpen his mental powers, looking like a barbarian worked for him.
With a massive psionic sending, he amplified the fear that the explosion and the alarms had triggered in the occupants of the level he was on, sending them scurrying into whatever corners or cubbyholes they could find. Anything to get away from Khal Teth.
So intense was his concentration that he could feel the presence of four members of the High Council that Parsus had summoned to his chambers, despite their attempts to jointly mask their minds from his. His mind touched that of Parsus, finding a boldness equal to his own. Unsurprising. In fact, he was counting on such arrogance. Parsus was, after all, Khal Teth’s identical twin. Feeling his muscles ripple with each stride, he grinned.
He and Parsus were no longer identical. And while The Ripper had been learning Khal Teth’s psionic techniques, Khal Teth had been absorbing The Ripper’s combat skills and tactics. Once he dealt with Parsus and his cronies on the High Council, that new knowledge would come in very handy for the new rule Khal Teth would put into place.
Up ahead, the entry to the overlord’s chamber came into view. Its nanoparticle door was closed solid, but Khal Teth could feel the eagerness in Parsus’s mind. Parsus would welcome in the brother he had yet to recognize, thanks to his appearance and the more powerful mental block that Khal Teth maintained.
Yes. This was going to be well beyond sweet.
Parsus had summoned the other eleven members of the Circle of Twelve so that they could all be in close enough proximity to link their minds as one. But the disarray that had resulted from the sabotage in the hovercraft bay had delayed several of the high lords. Not that it would matter. Though impressive, The Ripper had relied on his ability to physically shock and intimidate his foes to achieve success. And Parsus had taken steps to make sure that no such tactics would be employed within this chamber.
The battle would come down to a contest of minds. Parsus wouldn’t require the help of the other high lords to emerge victorious, yet it never hurt to be prudent.
Sensing The Ripper pause outside his door, Parsus issued the thought command that dissolved the portal into a thin curtain of translucent mist. And through that curtain, The Ripper stepped into his chambers.
As the barbarian passed through, Parsus issued a mental command for the door to resolidify, something that should have sliced his nemesis’s body into two nearly equal halves, leaving an unsightly mess on his lovely floor and in the hallway beyond. At least he tried to issue the command. Parsus was so startled when The Ripper blocked the thought that he sprang from his chair. Across the room, The Ripper gripped one hand with the other and squeezed, producing a cracking sound from his knuckles.
The sight of that muscled body, wrapped in a savage black uniform with ivory blades strapped to each thigh, prickled the overlord’s scalp. But it was the red glint in those dark orbs that robbed Parsus of breath.
“Hello, my brother,” said Khal Teth. “It is good to see you, too.”
Khal Teth felt the other minds in the room coalesce and blocked them even as the twins stood frozen in concentration. And though Parsus’s mind was powerful, Khal Teth wrapped it in crushing bonds that dropped the overlord to his knees. Then Jack’s thoughts intruded on Khal Teth’s with a clarity that startled him.
“You need what Parsus knows.”
Even though the thought intrusion angered Khal Teth, The Ripper was right. Parsus had millennia of knowledge that his brother had not been privy to but would need in order to establish a ruling coalition.
Khal Teth walked forward, coming to a stop directly in front of where Parsus struggled to make his trembling body rise. Placing his right hand in the center of Parsus’s high forehead, Khal Teth thrust his mind across that boundary, his pent-up fury letting him shrug aside his twin’s futile resistance to the mental violation. For several moments, Khal Teth’s mind became one with that of his brother, absorbing even the most intimate of memories.
Only when he withdrew did he realize his mistake. The melding of minds had tired him far beyond what he would have expected, enough so that the four assembled high lords and Parsus began to chip away at the mental blocks he had placed upon them. Khal Teth felt the mental strain clench the muscles in his jaw.
Had The Ripper sensed that this would happen and enticed him into this trap? That made no sense. If Khal Teth died, so would Jack, and so would his beloved Earth.
Then things got worse. Two more high lords entered the chamber, one of them High Lord Shabett, and Khal Teth felt the power of their minds join that of the group. Parsus swatted away Khal Teth’s hand and struggled back to his feet, shaking with the effort.
What only moments before had offered Khal Teth a clear path to victory had turned into a mental stalemate. Yet Khal Teth felt his strength gradually returning. The others felt it, too. He could sense the fear building in their minds. Fear mixed with hope. Hope of what?
The answer entered through the portal: three more members of the High Council. Two short of forming the Circle of Twelve.
This time it was Khal Teth who felt fear knot his stomach. For The Ripper to have come all this way only to rob Khal Teth of his victory was madness. Why had he done it?
The answer that came was one he understood all too well.
Jack felt Khal Teth falter. He had known the danger involved in nudging the former overlord to merge his mind with that of Parsus but, if what he planned was to have any chance of success, he had to take the risk. Now the strange intuition that had saved his life and almost gotten him killed hundreds of times was forcing him to take another.
Steeling his will, Jack took advantage of Khal Teth’s outward focus and, with an effort greater than any he had yet attempted, retook control of the Altreian body. For the briefest of moments, the shock of the withdrawal of Khal Teth’s mind from the fight threw the assembled high lords into confusion. And in that moment, the ivory blades of The Ripper flashed out with such violence that they almost severed Parsus’s head from his body.
Amid a fountain of blood, Jack’s momentum carried him into Shabett. His foot-long blades impaled her a second before Jack hurled her dying body into two other high lords, sending them tumbling over a small table on their way to the floor. As he continued toward his next victims, one of their minds found his, latching on with such strength that it stalled his attack.
Jack grunted with the effort of raising a mental block, drew his pulse blaster, and fired, burning a hole through the middle of the attacking female’s head. As she slumped to the floor, Jack stepped across the body, ignoring its death spasms. Blood soaked and dripping, he stood before the cowering survivors of the High Council as they huddled together like frightened children.
“Listen carefully,” Jack said, his voice low and calm. “If anyone tries something that makes me angry, I will cut you into pieces your friends and family won’t recognize. Any questions?”
There weren’t.
Just then, Jack felt the power of the Twice Bound funnel into his mind. As the first boatload of his allies entered psionic range, their added power extended his range, bringing about a reinforcing cascade that made his head throb. As he studied the terrified faces of the surviving high lords, letting them feel the awesome power of his mind, a slow grin creased the corners of his mouth.
The Altreian Enigma (Rho Agenda Assimilation Book 2) Page 29
