MindMage: BlackWing Pirates, Book 2

by Connie Suttle

  "Can you tell me where you were?"

  "No. Not now, anyway."

  "You've changed a lot. You got a tattoo. You look—stronger, I guess."

  "Let's hope I'm strong enough to face the Prophet next time," I said. "Because he's waiting—looking for me. If he discovers who or where I am, things could go very wrong in a hurry."

  "Yeah. So we're all right then?" She blinked at me.

  "Yes. We're all right. We can even sit at the same table and joke and tease and drink beer," I agreed.

  "That sounds good. Well, I have designs waiting, and they won't create themselves," she said and rose from her chair. "Thank you, Randl. We missed you, you know."

  "I know."

  She closed my cabin door behind her, the latch making a soft, snicking noise as it engaged with the jamb. I released a shaky breath.

  Thank you, I sent to Captain Anderson.

  For what? she replied.

  For giving good advice to Sabrina, I returned. Things worked out well enough, I think.

  Then you're welcome. Any time.

  Queen's Palace, Le-Ath Veronis

  Winkler

  "You have Randl working on this now?" I handed Kooper's comp-vid back to him.

  "Yes. For now, we'll let her travel to Campiaa with President Lebbon. Quin has already reviewed him and the rest of his party—they're unaffected for now. Shella will be watched carefully, and that's where you can help."

  "Because this is Harifa Edus' first Joint Conclave," I said. "You want me to go with Lukas, like before."

  "That's right. I'm considering who to send with Amlis, now that he's back on the sanity wagon."

  "Halimel may be available," I suggested.

  "That's a good idea. Perhaps one other, since Amlis and Rodrik are in uncharted waters, here?"

  "Then approach Aurelius. He has more experience with politics than anybody else I can think of."

  "I can see that," Kooper considered my choice. "Both those vampires have leadership experience. I'll ask them. I'll also ask them to help keep an eye on Ms. Karp, while she's hobnobbing with other assistants and their planetary leaders. We don't need a spreading infection this time, but we sure as hell want her to lead us to her boss, and I'm not talking about President Lebbon."

  "I got that the second you opened your mouth," I observed.

  "See, I knew you'd be helpful from the beginning."

  "Well, you scheming old bastard, why don't you go conscript two vampires, then?" I laughed. "At least I offered tea instead of coffee. See what you get from them."

  "I hate that blood substitute shit," Kooper rose and grinned at me. "Thanks for the tea."

  BlackWing X

  Randl

  Shella Karp was still Shella Karp—the original and not a substitute. Somewhere, somehow, she'd encountered the Prophet or one of his minions. The Prophet still had his hands on Pyrik; that much was evident.

  I pulled up the CSD report on the progress made in Lee'Qee, the site of a nuclear accident long in the past, which had been taken over by the Prophet's army—or a good portion of it, anyway.

  Stores of packaged food had been found in underground rooms and passages—most of it traced back to pirated goods from ships attacked by small-time pirating factions.

  Both the ASD and CSD were paying more attention to those small-time attacks. The BlackWing fleet was stretched to the limit as a result, and I understood Kooper's anger at losing VII much better, now.

  Lee'Qee was slowly being demolished by construction bots. The few humanoids involved in the operation wore suits appropriate for blocking radiation.

  Across Pyrik, too, some had fallen ill from the leaking radiation caused when the shields fell around Lee'Qee. As if the planet hadn't suffered enough already from heavy fines levied and the cost of cleanup.

  It made me wonder if Pyrik would remain in the Campiaan Alliance. It would be cheaper to cut its losses and drop out, although the population would suffer greatly from such an act.

  Alliance-mandated health care would likely be eliminated with no replacement provided, and those already suffering from radiation poisoning would die unless they could afford the expense of hospitalization.

  "What a fucked-up mess," I mumbled before getting back to the records on Shella Karp. Kooper had even provided her spending records, and those showed she'd taken a vacation shortly after the cancellation of the previously scheduled Joint Alliances Conclave.

  She'd been hired as one of Lebbon's new assistants when she returned from her time off.

  I looked for images before and after that happened, and found several. At the beginning of her vacation in the mountains outside the small city of Ba'Moru, she didn't have the obsession.

  In the image taken on her last day of vacation, she had the beginnings of obsession. Somehow, she'd been approached by the Prophet or his minions during her time off, and they'd probably researched the applicants for Lebbon's assistants before targeting her.

  Kooper, I sent, we need a list of all the people who applied for positions on Lebbon's staff, before he gave the job to Shella Karp.

  I can get that for you. Do you want a copy sent to Quin?

  Yes, please.

  I'll get someone on it right away.

  Thank you.

  Setting Shella Karp's records aside for a moment, I turned to Vrak Falken. First up were two images—that of a young Vrak Falken at eight years of age, and a more current image.

  Two different people, as suspected. How had the Prophet selected him for replacement, and what had happened to the original?

  I couldn't see his death in the boy's image—that meant the original Vrak could be alive somewhere. Kooper had already done an image search in both Alliances, and no true match had been found.

  The real Vrak could look much different, now, thanks to the Prophet's manipulation. How many others had been killed or changed in some way, to suit the Prophet's machinations? Did the Prophet take the original Vrak and place him in his army? If so, how and why?

  I was back to one of my original questions—what did he want from all this, and why did he want it?

  Time to examine the coin from Vogeffa II.

  Pulling it from the drawer of my tiny, bedside table, I flipped it in my fingers a few times before settling back on my bed and closing my eyes. My fingers tightened about the gold disc as I searched for images in its past.

  The first image made my body jerk—a woman lay on a bed, her back turned toward me. The coin flipped through the air and landed on the bed beside her as the shadow at her back turned away.

  It took a moment for me to realize she was weeping.

  Chapter Five

  BlackWing X

  Travis

  "What else did you learn?" I asked Randl during dinner. He'd already told me as much as he could from his research on Vrak Falken and Shella Karp.

  "I learned that the coin from Vogeffa II was once used to pay for sex." That upset him in some way. He didn't explain why.

  "Was there anything else?"

  "I haven't gone past that point, yet. This will take time, I'm afraid."

  "Did you contact Kooper with your findings?"

  "On everything except the coin. I didn't think he'd be interested in what I've found so far."

  "True."

  "He's sending more information on the applicants for the job Shella got with President Lebbon. She had to get her obsession somehow, and I'm attempting to see whether they reached the other candidates, too."

  "How did they get to her?" I asked. "In your opinion?"

  "They had to approach her while she was on vacation—the image I saw of her when she first arrived showed no obsession. Just a day or two before she left, she had the beginnings of it."

  "Is there a way to retrace her steps? To determine a location?" Dori asked. She, Terrett, David and Sabrina sat with us at the same table, and they'd listened while Randl spoke about his research.

  "I don't know. I think several days were spent hiking up
the mountain, which is covered in forest for the most part," Randl shrugged. "That would be a strange place for the Prophet or one of his soldiers to approach, mostly because she hiked with her fiancé and a group of other people. It was a guided tour, as I understand it."

  "Does it list the tour guide's name?" Dori asked.

  "I can get that, I think."

  "Good. I think I'd like to visit Ba'Moru and sniff around."

  "You have permission to go, as long as you're back before we reach Cloudsong," I said. "I'll advise Kooper, if that's your plan."

  "Randl?" Dori turned toward him.

  "I was thinking of going on my own," he confessed. "If you want to go, then we'll go."

  "We'll go," Dori turned back to me. "We'll figure out who the hiking guide was and talk to him."

  "I only need to see him," Randl pointed out.

  "Then we'll see him," Dori grinned.

  Ba'Moru, Pyrik

  Randl

  "A friend recommended him as a guide," Dori told the hotel desk clerk. Before leaving BlackWing, I'd found the name of Shella's hiking guide. Caille Morr had served as a trail guide for more than five years, and was regularly requested by vacationers.

  "I think he's taking a group up the mountain tomorrow," the clerk replied. "They meet outside the Greenever Lodge before heading toward the mountain."

  "That sounds great," Dori said. "We'll meet him then, and ask about a reservation for his next hike."

  "So, one room?" the clerk asked.

  "Sure," Dori agreed. We'd brought clothing for an overnight stay, although I hadn't counted on rooming together. Dori was playing the couple card to its maximum effectiveness, however.

  It didn't matter—all I needed was a blanket and a floor to sleep on.

  "Here's the door code," the desk clerk handed Dori a comp-vid chip. "You have a nice view of Greenever Mountain outside your window."

  "Thank you," Dori offered a smile before turning toward me.

  As the dutiful boyfriend, I lifted both our bags and followed Dori toward the trans-vator.

  "You can have the bed," she said the moment the door shut behind us. "My ocelot can sleep on the sofa."

  "That doesn't sound fair," I protested. "I can sleep on the floor."

  "I'm the Captain in charge, here," she said. "You take the bed. My ocelot will be happy on the sofa."

  "Then it'll be that way," I agreed. "Where do you want your bag?"

  "In the bathroom. I think we're dressed well enough to find dinner and a drink somewhere. You can scope out the locals and have a meal at the same time."

  "That sounds fine," I agreed. "I was planning to go out and see things for myself anyway."

  "And I'm going out with you, in case I need to reel you in."

  "I usually don't need reeling in."

  "You know—I could see that early on," she agreed. "But you can never tell for sure about these things."

  "Whatever you say, Captain Anderson." I rubbed the back of my neck with a hand while attempting to deal with my current situation. She barely knew me, and had little to go on regarding my reliability and reluctance to be anything other than invisible most of the time.

  "Come on, then. I'm hungry."

  I followed her from the room.

  The Greenever Resort was Dori's choice of places to eat. There was a large restaurant and a smaller pub that sold sandwiches and lighter fare. She chose the pub as it was full, while the restaurant only held a few diners.

  She picked a table near the bar, in a location where we could survey the room without being obvious about it. "I'll have the Mergis white," she ordered wine for herself. I ordered my usual beer.

  Our waiter could have been a standard-hire for any pub, with a white cloth tied at his waist and a comp-vid in his pocket. I focused on the pub's patrons once he walked away to fill our order.

  What I found was troubling.

  Captain Anderson, I sent, there are seven people in this crowd with growing obsessions.

  Are you sure? And call me Dori, she replied.

  I'm sure, Dori.

  Can you get anything from them?

  I'm linking with Travis and Kooper right now, to transmit images. These can barely recall their names and what they should be doing.

  That takes talent, to transmit images, her mental words were dry. Are they locals or from somewhere else?

  Locals.

  I'm on my way, Travis responded.

  I'm sending Kell and Opal, Kooper sent.

  We can't just arrest them, Dori pointed out.

  No, but we can have them followed tonight, and send someone to observe the situation tomorrow, Kooper returned. I'll have identification on them soon enough.

  I was only half-listening to Kooper's mindspeech at this point, because Caille Morr walked into the pub.

  The description provided by our hotel desk clerk failed to do Caille justice. He was a mountain of a man; tall, with wide shoulders and bulging muscles, topped off by a full, dark head of hair and a bushy beard that covered much of his face and ended mid-chest. He was obsessed, too, but that was the least of my worries at the moment.

  He focused on Dori and me the moment he walked through the door, and was now charging like a bull in our direction.

  Things are about to get nasty, Dori shouted mentally at Kooper and me before rising from her chair to meet our new adversary head-on.

  Caille roughly shoved a patron off a barstool before he reached our table. After lifting the barstool high, he stalked forward, intending to break it over my head. Caille roared as he charged, but I was prepared to send a blast of wind at him to force him backward.

  I'd taken my eyes off Dori for perhaps two seconds.

  It was long enough for her to shift to ocelot and launch herself at Caille, spitting and hissing, with claws extended. Reeling the spelled blast back so I wouldn't hit her with it, I watched in horror as Dori buzzed his head and upper torso like a furred tornado, clawing Caille's face to shreds before using her hind legs to push off his body and leap away.

  Caille, like a wounded bear, roared again while attempting to wipe blood from his eyes. Focusing on Dori now instead of me, he rushed toward her.

  Like any cat, she'd fluffed her fur as high as it would go and crouched, ready to spring at him again.

  What the hell? Travis' voice reached me—he stood near the doorway, taking in the situation.

  A few terrified patrons were struggling to get out of the bar while others, interested in the outcome of this fight, crowded against a wall to give Caille and Dori space to fight.

  Dori's ocelot yowled and spat at Caille, who didn't seem to care that she'd shredded him enough to require sutures.

  "Hey, stupid," I shouted at Caille, who stopped in his tracks before turning toward me.

  Jerking a chair up with my right hand, I tossed it at Caille and put power behind it. It smashed against his body, shattering the chair and momentarily confusing him.

  Dori launched herself at him again, clawing his shirt and chest to bloody ribbons before kicking off his body a second time. He screamed this time at the pain she'd caused with her back claws.

  I was ready to toss another chair when I saw it. The Prophet was watching, and Caille—well.

  Get Terrett, I shouted mentally at Travis, before encasing Caille in an impermeable shield. When he exploded, the shield contained his grisly remains and the green mist he'd blown outward.

  The others—those I'd noticed first who'd borne obsession—they'd melted from the pub, leaving no trace.

  Caille had covered their disappearance by attacking Dori and me. By the time Travis arrived, the others were already gone.

  I considered that the Prophet could have pulled them away, too, but I hadn't noticed that they bore the same cellular recording devices that Caille and Vrak did, which allowed the Prophet to see everything from their perspective.

  "What do you want to do with this?" I flung a hand at the shielded remains of Caille. Kooper had come with Kell a
nd Opal, once he saw what was happening.

  Dori sat at our table; Travis had helped clean her claws with power before she changed back to her humanoid self.

  "I'll send it to Karzac's bots; they can examine it in a leak-proof environment later."

  "Let me know when you want the shield released, then," I sighed and raked fingers through my hair.

  "We have as much information as we could gather," Kell approached Kooper and handed him a comp-vid. "Terrett took care of the accident explanations."

  "Good. I'll have images of every resident sent to Quin. We'll find out if any other locals have been infected."

  "Have her send what she finds to me," I said. "Why here?" I asked the question that troubled me most.

  "Do you think this is just incidental to Shella's infection?" Kooper asked.

  "I have the idea that Caille's infection is much older than hers."

  Kooper stared at me for a moment. "That doesn't make sense," he huffed. "Look, I'll do research on my end, and get back with you."

  He intended to look into the reason why Shella chose this vacation spot over others on Pyrik. I wanted an answer for that, too.

  In the meantime, I worried that we'd forced the Prophet's hand again, and things could go very wrong as a result.

  Whether the Prophet understood that we knew about Shella, the investigation had gone sour the moment we asked the desk clerk about Caille. At least we'd never mentioned Shella's name at any point.

  This game was now tied, and I worried how the next round would go.

  Queen's Palace, Le-Ath Veronis

  Winkler

  "Kooper?" He'd stalked into my office without knocking or announcing himself.

  "Tell me I'm an idiot. That's an order."

  "Why?"

  "No. Wrong. Tell me I'm an idiot."

  "Okay, you're an idiot. What idiotic thing did you do? You look like you've been rode hard and put up wet."

  "I'm a snake, not a horse," he waved a hand at my obscure reference. "I told Kell and Opal to look for the seven who disappeared last night after daybreak. They're not the only ones missing from Ba'Moru this morning."

  "How many?" I thought to ask.

  "More than three hundred, out of a population of fourteen hundred locals. It's not a big place, until you count the tourists who visit."