Gates of Hell

by Susan Sizemore

  “Then let’s do it,” Mik said, already heading toward the door.

  Martin looked at Roxy and Pyr. “Consider this a wedding present,” he told them, and followed the engineer.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “This will work. Trust me.”

  “It sounds disgusting, warped, and perverted.”

  Roxanne leaned across the big table in the center of the common room and graced her bondmate with a dangerous smile. He felt that smile all the way down to his bones. “Your point, dear?”

  From the opposite side of the table, Pyr returned the smile with an equal edginess. “I wasn’t disagreeing, merely making a personal comment.”

  It was the best idea anyone had come up with in the three days since the Raptor suddenly disappeared from Bucon sensor detection and raced back toward where it had all begun. As far as most of the crew knew, they’d collected booty from Halfor’s stronghold, slipped away from the hated regular Bucon navy, and were now running for one of the Raptor’s most frequented ports. The crew had plenty of cash, and a supply of Rust. Several more had been healed by Roxanne, including Pilsane, and all was the way it should be, according to their pirate mindset. Pyr hadn’t bothered explaining that they were on a mission to destroy evil and save the universe. Why complicate his crew’s simple lives? It was something to keep inside the clan, if only the clan could come up with a way to do it.

  So they were having one more meeting to discuss possibilities over a large meal Kristi had fixed for them. Roxanne suggested her solution near the end of dinner, after staring into a mug of coffee cradled in her hands while the rest of them ate dessert.

  They were within orbiting distance of Orlin now and final decisions had to be made. They had the Shireny cloak to keep them from being detected, and they had the Door to get them into the death-cult temple. Now all they needed was a way to distract or combat Persey’s Bucon guards and Idel’s fanatical followers while they eliminated the leaders of the Rust conspiracy.

  “I like Roxy’s idea,” Martin said.

  “It might work,” Axylel said. He flushed faintly as he looked at Roxanne. “If you really think they’ll respond to that sort of stimulus.”

  “How?” Mik wondered. “I mean, without a way to amplify—”

  Roxanne’s laughter interrupted the engineer. “Don’t need an amplifier. Do I?” she asked Pyr. Pyr couldn’t think of a circumspect comment, so he glared at Martin’s chuckle. Linch picked up his ligret and began strumming an ancient and bawdy ballad.

  “It would be nice if we could simply vaporize the place from orbit,” Pilsane said, wistfully.

  Pyr was certain the temple would now be too shielded for anything that simple. Using the Door in front of Idel had been a mistaken bit of bravado. Once the Raptor was away from Orlin, the conspirators would have stopped hiding behind the facade of a primitive temple and improved the place’s defenses. Using the temple to manufacture Rust had been a good cover for a time, Pyr thought, though he also felt a fool for not suspecting Idel was involved when they’d met. For some reason, the fact that a bioscan of the huge building showed nothing but Orlinians when he’d gone there for a meeting had seemed proof that Idel was no more than he seemed. Pyr looked at his left hand, where the girl’s teeth had sunk into flesh. He had been rather distracted that evening.

  “I like the idea of using the Door to send down a very big bomb,” Axylel said.

  “We don’t have a very big bomb,” Mik said. “We could go somewhere and steal that sort of materiel, but I don’t think we should risk taking the time.”

  “I don’t want to risk harming the civilian population,” Pyr said. “They aren’t all religious fanatics. They aren’t all demons because they aren’t of the People,” he added, with a stern look all around. There wasn’t a hint of argument from anyone else at the table. He remembered that Linch and Mik had Orlinian lovers.

  “Perhaps we should call our ships from the other side of the Rose,” Linch suggested. “No,” he said before anyone else could. “That would only draw the attention of United Systems sensor probes. Then the Systems would send a fleet.”

  “It would send Bucons to Orlin as well,” Pyr said. “This stays a private party.”

  “Which is exactly what I’m talking about,” Roxanne spoke up.

  What she suggested would require her going into the temple with them. Pyr hated the idea of risking Roxanne’s life on this mission. He looked around the table. They were all there, all the people he cared for; Axylel, Linch, Pilsane, Mik, even Martin. He hated the idea of risking his son, his friends, and his family. “You’re right,” he said to Roxanne. “This plan has the best chance of working.” He looked at Linch. “Put us in orbit precisely over Idel’s temple. Get the Door ready, Mik.”

  “This will work, right?” Martin asked her as they waited for the go-ahead inside the Door room.

  There was a flatness to his expression, a faint dullness to his chocolate brown eyes, as though he was alert, but slightly removed from his own emotions. That was as it should be. He was feeling the effects of a little something Roxanne had whipped up in sickbay and administered to the commando party. It wouldn’t work for long, but it didn’t have to. It would give them an edge while she got to work.

  “I’m pretty sure it will,” she said.

  “Ready,” Mik called before Martin could voice any more skepticism, and they moved into the position.

  They all stood in a circle, facing outward with weapons drawn. She was back-to-back with Pyr. She leaned into him, fitting her curves against him, aware of his warmth and the hardness of his back, the breadth of his shoulders. She let herself think of his thighs, and the tight muscles of his ass. He smelled of leather, with silk beneath and bare, beautiful flesh under that. She smiled, and thought of sex.

  “Now,” Mik said.

  And the world turned into lightning.

  When the brilliance cleared, the room was made of blood-stained stone, and the air was cold. Roxanne did not have time to consider the wonder and glory of having teleported without having to do the work herself.

  They had gone from here to there, and there was full of enemies.

  She kept her mind on erotic, arousing acts rather than trying to take in many details of their surroundings. She saw the flash of eyes, and knives, and sharp, serrated teeth, but looked into souls instead of faces. She aimed her emotions at all those bodies, sent need deep into cold, isolated flesh, tapped the erotic fantasies lurking near the surface in every mind—and twisted them to her own desire.

  Touch, she thought. Contact. Want. Now!

  She sent out all the longing in the world into the minds and bodies inside the temple of death. She hit the enemy as hard as she could with a hot, aching, distracting fireball of total lust.

  ———

  Pyr was aware of the distraction as no more than a pleasant sizzle on the edge of his senses. He kept his attention on business as they appeared in the grizzly temple chamber. Mik had put them into one of the lesser chapels. The shielding on the place had indeed been upgraded since their last visit, making a proper bioscan impossible. So they’d taken their chances on the emergence site, and hoped the place would be deserted. It appeared they’d interrupted a service. The chamber was crowded with Idel’s followers, armed with knifes and energy weapons. Their numbers were disguised by smoky torch light and deep shadows. He caught a glimpse of a body spread out across an altar as the worshipers swung their attention to the intruders.

  Weapons were raised, and immediately began to drop. A cry of alarm was choked off, another turned into a low moan of desire. Hands reached out, but not to take them prisoner. The Orlinians turned on each other, eyes hot, hands groping, melding into heaps of urgent flesh. Axylel had mentioned the death worshippers holding orgies. Roxanne’s telempathy thrust them into that already established mindset. An orgy should be starting all over the temple right now. It was an excellent diversion, hopefully diverting enough to buy the Raptor’s crew the time they
needed.

  Some of the enemy were mindblind, of course. Pyr shot two of the unaffected believers who came at him with knives raised, heard another shot over the gasping groans of an aggressively aroused woman on the floor in front of him, then turned to face his crew. “Split up,” he said. “Good hunting.”

  Each had their own assignments. Linch stayed put to look after Roxanne. Mik, Axylel, and Martin went out a rear entrance of the chapel. He and Pilsane cautiously moved through the doorway that led toward the main sanctuary of the temple.

  ———

  Roxanne concentrated on projecting emotion without being caught up in it for a few more minutes. She wanted to give it enough time to effect as many people as she could reach. She started the fire, but the blaze grew on its own after that. She was going to have to remember this diversion for future use; it was much better than killing people. It was good that the Orlinians used sex as part of their worship, and she’d never met a Bucon that didn’t like to have fun. But she couldn’t think about sex all the time. And the drug she’d given her own people would wear off soon.

  She raised her empathic shields, put her mind on what else needed to be done, turned to Linch and said, “Want to go look around?”

  He moved up out of the shadows where he’d been protectively lurking. “Want to go kill a Trin?”

  She smiled. “Always to the point, I like that about you.” They stepped over bodies on the way out. She noticed that there was a lot of biting and scratching and other rough stuff going on, but people seemed to be having a good time. That some of them were dead disappointed her, but then Roxanne recalled that this was a religion where death after degradation and suffering was the ultimate goal. Weird, but if it made them happy…

  She made herself stop thinking about theology and sent her thoughts out in search of the enemy, hunting for a single mindset alien to Orlinian and Bucon thought. She briefly touched Pyr, Martin, and the others from the Raptor. There were many Bucons in a separate area of the temple. She let Martin know about them. She could sense the mindblind in the building; they left a blank pressure against her shielding, but her thoughts passed over them like water over smooth stones. She sighed when she found what she was looking for, and walked out of the chapel with Linch close on her heels.

  ———

  “Bucons ahead,” Martin said, without bothering to check the bioscanner clipped to his belt. Roxy’s word was good enough for him. He put away the projectile weapon he’d been given and took something else out of his pocket.

  The corridor was lined with deep niches, black holes that looked like open, screaming mouths. Some of the niches held grotesque statues, others held even more grotesque piles of bones. The torches that lit the place were few and far between. He gestured Mik and Axylel further back into the shadows of one of the niches while he considered options. Neither the engineer nor the datarat questioned his leadership. He almost wanted to remind them that he was still ostensibly a prisoner, but he guessed he’d earned their trust as well. He followed them into the alcove, careful not to disturb a pyramid of skulls along the way.

  Mik’s broad-featured face registered shock when he saw what Martin held. “That’s Pyr’s,” he said.

  “I know. Found it when I ransacked his quarters,” Martin explained before Mik could ask. “He never noticed that I ransacked his quarters.”

  “He wouldn’t,” Axylel said. He started to laugh quietly, then the sound died and he whispered, “That’s a needier.”

  “Forgot Pyr had that thing,” Mik said. He rubbed his jaw. “Could have figured out a way to convert it into a big bomb and we wouldn’t have to be down here.”

  “Pyr’s right about civilian casualties. Besides, big bombs don’t always do the job by themselves,” Martin pointed out. “Sometimes you need to deliver them in person.”

  Mik gave this, and Martin, serious consideration. “What’cha planning?”

  Axylel put a hand on Martin’s arm before he could respond. “How long have you had that thing?”

  “Since the first day we were brought on board.”

  “You could have escaped any time you wanted?”

  “No. Anytime after the Bucon fleet showed up, maybe, but not before then. But I let it play out,” Martin told Pyr’s son. “Logic told me not to, self-interest told me not to, but my instincts went along with the rescue plan. I trust my instincts even when they piss me off.” Besides, Roxy had said something about being a parent himself that had completely messed up his rational thinking where these aliens’ problems were concerned. So, here he was now with a needier in his hand. “And Stev Persey had better be beyond the next door.”

  “You have a plan?” Mik asked.

  “You want prisoners to interrogate?” Martin asked him. Mik shook his head. Drug dealers, Martin thought. Drug dealers who spread Rust addiction after the Meek died spreading the plague. Drug dealers who worked for a Trin. He looked at the small, powerful weapon in his hand. There wouldn’t be any prisoners. “I think I should go in first,” he told the other two.

  There were no guards before the heavy wooden door. It was shielded, but Mik took care of that defense quickly enough. Martin burned down the door and a section of wall rather than bothering to knock. The huge, low-ceilinged room beyond the rubble was better lit than the temple corridor, and warmer. The Bucons had installed modern appliances for their comfort and convenience in this refurbished section of the fanatics’ base. The walls were covered in dark tapestries, the floor was carpeted. Soft, comfortable Bucon chairs, chaises, and floor pillows made up most of the furniture. The place was their private recreation room, Martin guessed. They were certainly involved in recreational activities before Martin knocked down the wall and spoiled the mood.

  The lights made them easier to see when he swept the needler’s focused energy beam around the room. Most of them were making love when he killed them, but Martin refused to dwell on the irony of it all. The only meaning that mattered was that he was ridding the universe of a dozen or so pieces of vermin. The bright light did help him pick Persey’s long black hair and sharp profile out from the rest of the group. Martin halted the sweep of the needier before it reached Persey’s naked form.

  Persey rose to his knees, grabbed a weapon, and fired as Martin came toward him. Martin dodged the projectile and heard it ricochet off the thick stone wall to his right. He also heard Mik and Axylel enter behind him, their weapons taking out the Bucons Martin hadn’t hit with the needier. Persey took shelter behind a thick pillar and kept shooting. Martin held his fire and moved forward cautiously, using furniture, pillars, and fallen pieces of wall for cover. He wanted to get very close to Stev Persey. Close enough to choke the life out of the bastard who had wrapped a wire around Dee Nikophoris’s neck, who sent a pack of addicts into a hospital to murder the staff, who had stabbed Roxy in the heart and left her for dead. Mostly he wanted to kill Persey with his bare hands for Dee’s sake. He owed Groupie Persey’s life, taken in as brutal a way as hers was taken.

  Only problem was, about halfway across the wide room to where Persey lurked, Martin could have sworn he heard Dee Nikophoris laughing at him. “What’s with the macho crap, Viper?” he could imagine her saying. “I’m too dead to be impressed. Just kill the bastard for me.” It was his imagination, but it was also very much the sort of thing Dee would say—the sort of thing she would never say again.

  Martin laughed. He laughed very loudly, and not altogether rationally. Then he thumbed the control of the needier, stepped out from behind cover, and vaporized the pillar Persey hid behind, and Persey with it.

  The Bucon bastard was dead. Honor was avenged. Martin looked up at the ceiling. He didn’t think it was going to stay up much longer without the pillar to support it. He gestured for Mik and Axylel to back toward the entrance. “I think we better get out of here.” A rumble from overhead punctuated his words. “Fast!”

  ———

  “This place is ugly,” Roxanne whispered as they moved down a lo
ng, winding staircase. The way was narrow, the stones cold and damp, and she spoke mostly for the reassuring sound. Linch wasn’t much of a talker.

  Just like a Trin to hang out in the basement. Trin weren’t much for decor. Trin warlords were into power, competing with each other for the Galactic Villain championship, and building bigger and better death-dealing stuff.

  What good was power, Roxanne wondered as they reached the last twist before the bottom of the stairs, if you didn’t build centrally heated palaces with big bathtubs and great scenery? They paused for a moment, two telepaths sensing out the unknown territory beyond the dark shelter of the staircase. “I mean, what good is ruling the universe if you don’t even go out to dinner occasionally?” she muttered, knowing her words went unnoticed by anyone beyond them. Power for power’s sake? Hell, she had that, if she wanted to use koltiri gifts that way. She’d build a big house and throw great parties if she ruled the universe. And institute universal peace and happiness and all that other stuff that sounded great but really didn’t work in practice because people always refused to cooperate with anybody else’s idea of peace and happiness even if you put a lot of drugs in their water… “Okay, that won’t work, but I’d like the house.”

  “What?” Linch finally whispered from behind her.

  “Just kvetching,” she murmured back.

  There were guards at the bottom of the stairs. They were making love. Roxanne and Linch stepped over them. After a moment, Linch turned back and dispatched the guards. Roxanne nodded to him. No use risking an escape route. They hurried down a low, dim corridor, through an arched doorway, and down more stairs. This time it grew lighter as they went further down. Torches had been replaced by glowbars. The moisture in the air disappears i as well, as did the faint scent of decay. The gruesome temple of the death goddess had completely changed into a sterile, efficient little world by the time they reached the first protective shield stretched invisibly across the stairway. It was easily burned out; Mik had been playing with the shield he’d taken off Kith’s body. He’d passed out his brand-new shield disrupter to them all before they left the ship. They used Mik’s disrupter twice more by the time they reached the bottom of the stairs.