Gates of Hell

by Susan Sizemore

  “Overkill if you ask me,” Roxanne commented.

  Linch cocked an eyebrow at her. “When the Trin knows the Systems is vowed to kill him?”

  “They were paranoid to begin with.” She gestured him forward.

  There was a small room beyond the staircase, brightly lit. It contained a surveillance board and banks of screens. There was no one behind the control console to monitor all those screens and sensor readouts. There was a security door on the other side of the room. The shield that should have sealed it was turned off. The door was partly open. Roxanne and Linch exchanged a look. Trap?

  Let’s go have a look, shall we? They shared the thought, and moved together to the doorway.

  “I told you no!”

  The sound of a blow rang in the air a moment later.

  A whimper followed. A woman’s voice said, “Please.”

  Roxanne felt the presence of the Trin and one Orlinian. She took a cautious look beyond the open door. Linch pushed the door open a fraction further, any noise he made covered by a cry of pain. Roxanne had shielded herself from most of the violence since they’d arrived in the temple, but the woman’s fear and the hunger that fed it hit hard against her senses. The Trin’s contemptuous anger added salt to psychic wounds.

  The Trin had knocked the woman to the floor. She scrambled to her knees and touched him imploringly. “I love you,” she said, and rubbed her forehead against his thigh. “Love me.” The Trin raised his hand to strike her again.

  Roxanne was sick with the knowledge that the Trin’s abuse of the aroused woman was her doing. She snarled with fury and pressed the pad that deactivated the Trin’s personal shield. She ran forward as the Trin raised his bald, bumpy head to look at her. He thrust the Orlinian away and raised a hand weapon with lightning speed. Roxanne saw his finger begin to press the trigger, knew that she had no time to dodge.

  And the knife flew past her shoulder, so close a whisper of air caressed her skin, and then the blade lodged hilt deep in the Trin’s exposed throat.

  She felt the bastard die. He was dead even before the weapon fell from his hand and he dropped to the floor. She looked down at the body, and was aware of Linch stunning the Orlinian woman as she fought off the reaction. Then Roxanne took a deep breath and looked at Linch.

  “I don’t let anyone hurt women,” he said. “Even when the women like it.”

  ———

  “Twelve mindblind that I can detect,” Pyr said. “Idel among them, I think.” Specific identification of someone with natural telepathic shielding was tricky, but one of the impressions Pyr received could be described as a dark star made up of pure ego wrapped in overwhelming pride. That was the high priest he remembered. “I think he’s pissed. And I detect eight others too suspicious to fall for Roxanne’s diversion. Sixteen, all on the move.” He stood just beyond the reach of the light thrown by the nearest torch, pressed his back to the mosaic of a dying galaxy that decorated the wall, and closed his eyes to concentrate again. “Heading our way. Do it now. Hurry.”

  He and Pilsane had made their way cautiously from the chapel to the temple’s great carved entrance doors without encountering any opposition. It looked like that was about to change. Pilsane rushed over to the doors. Pyr stepped forward to cover Pilsane’s back as he sealed the entrance and set a portable shield that would keep any angry mob of rescuers rushing from the city streets at Idel’s call for help.

  “Done,” Pilsane said after a few seconds. He trotted back to Pyr’s side. “Now what?”

  Now all they had to worry about were vigilant fanatics and their furious leader on the inside. “Going to be fun,” he said. He looked around the great chamber with its huge, open expanse of tiled floor. Not a lot of places to take cover. Pillars were few and far between. There was more space than anything else between the doors and the fire-crowned statue of the death goddess and the skull throne to the side of it. The place had been brighter the last time he’d been here, illuminated and heated for the Hunters’ Festival by hundreds of torches. “We wait here,” he decided. “Let them come to us.”

  Pilsane looked at the soot-blackened ceiling and the silver line of Idel’s security lightweb. “That’s going to be activated any second now.”

  Pyr smiled. “I have a thought about that. Use the statue as cover.”

  “And you’re going to be where?”

  Just do it, he instructed.

  Pilsane gave him a sour look. You’re going to do something melodramatic, aren’t you? He sent the thought as he dashed across the chamber to take up his position.

  Pyr waited in the shadows without answering the navigator. It had nothing to do with his being melodramatic. He hated melodrama. He did have a few questions he wanted answered. He needed to get close enough to Idel to ask them. It was the young high priest’s sense of theatrics that Pyr counted on to get him where he wanted to be.

  While he waited for the troops to arrive, he turned his thoughts to another part of the temple, shifted the focus of his attention into the other half of his soul.

  Roxanne turned a half-amused skeptical look on Linch. “Situational ethics, I’d call it. If she’d been holding a weapon—”

  “She wasn’t.”

  Roxanne didn’t argue the point. She nudged the dead Trin with her foot, then bent down and slowly drew the knife out of his throat. She cleaned it on the Trin’s clothes and handed it back to Linch. Then she looked around the room, grinned, and rubbed her hands together. “Data storage everywhere. One thing I’ve always admired about the Trins is that they document everything. This room will hold the formulas for the disease and the cure and—”

  May I interrupt for a moment, dear?

  Her head snapped up, her attention focused inward to reply to Pyr. What?

  I still have a battle to fight up here. I will need your help in a moment. Be prepared.

  Prepared for what?

  You’ll know.

  With that, Pyr focused back on his own situation as Idel and his followers rushed into the great hall. Idel’s disciples were creatures with pale, scarred skin. They were wraith-thin, ghost-people dressed in white rags. Instead of carrying the traditional bone blades of the Orlinian religion, they all held Bucon energy weapons clutched in their fists. It would have been much less work for Pilsane if the fanatics carried knives, but Pyr was confident his navigator could cope with odds of a mere fifteen to one for at least a few minutes.

  Pilsane opened fire as the Orlinians started to spread out around the room, drawing their attention. Pyr found the dark-haired and black-clad high priest in the center of the white crowd and considered simply stepping forward and shooting Idel down. But Idel dashed away from the group and up the steps to his throne before Pyr could get off a clear shot. A moment later, the green spiderweb lights of the defense system came to life. The criss-crossing bars of deadly glowing energy could have blanketed the huge room. Instead, they covered an area that took up no more than a five-foot circle around the skull throne. The high priest was now safe in the center of the lightweb and nothing else mattered to him. Idel then sat down, crossed his legs, and prepared to watch his followers fight for him against the invader lurking behind the cover of the death-goddess statue. An excited smile lit Idel’s unmarked face. He looked perfectly relaxed and happy to watch the show.

  Pyr smiled. He had counted on this childish behavior. The guards rushed to circle the throne. They formed another band of protection beyond the perimeter of the energy web rather than rushing the lone enemy behind the statue. Pilsane began picking them off from his more protected position. The return fire was blistering, but Pilsane continued to cope. Pyr used Pilsane’s diversionary shots to edge his way along the wall. Once he was in position, he decided he would have to take care of the guards behind the throne himself. He would lose the advantage of surprise, but it couldn’t be helped. But the world shook and buckled as he raised his weapon to fire. Pyr was knocked to his knees as a great rumbling roar filled his ears. For a long mome
nt it seemed that the whole building was going to fall down around them.

  Earthquake? Martin and Mik, Pyr thought as he jumped to his feet. He didn’t know how or what, but he was certain his engineer and the Terran were somehow responsible for whatever had just happened. It felt like half the temple had just been blown away, but the main shrine seemed to have suffered only a good shaking and some fallen masonry. The defense web still glowed its vicious green. Idel was still safe, but his protectors were in disarray. The two Pyr had to get through to reach Idel had been thrown to the floor. One looked to be unconscious, the other was just starting to get up. Pyr grabbed the opportunity and was on the man instantly, giving him no chance to ever rise again. With the Orlinians out of the way, Pyr took a deep breath and turned to the energy web.

  Now, Roxanne.

  He wanted to close his eyes as he stepped into the deadly green light, but he couldn’t afford to indulge the wish. The last time he had walked through this fire it had been set at a low level. This time it was cranked to kill. This time he didn’t walk, he ran as fast as he could. The pain seared into him and through him and—

  Ouch! Shit! What the hell do you think you’re doing?

  He would apologize to Roxanne later, if they lived that long.

  You live through this and I’ll kill you myself.

  Pyr had the briefest image of Linch holding her as she absorbed the agony and smiled through his own pain as she shielded him from the worst the energy web could do. Moving up the stairs and through the security field took a few excruciating, eternity-long seconds, then Pyr stepped out of the pain and remembered how to breathe.

  Sorry, he thought to his wife. Then he stepped around to the front of the dais and smiled at Idel. “Did you miss me?”

  The young man screeched in surprise and fury. It was the most satisfying sound Pyr had ever heard. Idel lunged for the security web controls on the throne arm and started to call for his guards. Pyr grabbed him by the throat and lifted the high priest from his seat before Idel could complete either gesture. He held Idel aloft one-handed, fingers pressing hard into the priest’s neck.

  “Let’s talk,” he said. He dragged the young man to the edge of the dais, and loosened his hold enough so that Idel could breathe.

  “Why aren’t you dead?” was the first thing Idel got out.

  Pyr couldn’t help but smile proudly as he answered. “Because my goddess is cuter than your goddess.”

  And is currently on her way upstairs to kick your shalsae-bonded butt!

  “And more beautiful and powerful,” he added quickly. Roxanne’s laughter echoed in his mind, but he concentrated on Idel. He looked into the young man’s eyes. There was no arrogance there now, only terror—and fascinated curiosity that bordered on religious awe. “Yes,” Pyr told Idel after a moment. “I am death. Worshipping me might be a good idea.” What Pyr wanted were answers, not adoration. He wanted to know how many Meek missionaries Idel had sneaked across the border to infect the Outsiders, as the Orlinians called the People. He wanted to know where each death-loving parasite was now. He wanted to know how the high priest had made his bargain with the Trin and every other detail of the conspiracy, but he would take all that from Idel’s head soon enough.

  He asked, “Was the girl’s biting me an accident? A whim on her part, or did you order it?” Pyr looked forward to shaking the boy like a rag doll if he didn’t answer fast enough. The sound of weapons fire grew louder and more intense in the background. Pyr became aware that Mik, Axylel, and Martin had arrived to help Pilsane, that Roxanne and Linch would be in the sanctuary in moments.

  “No death is an accident on my world,” Idel answered without any urging. “The plan the Bucon and Trin agreed to was to get you off world, draw you to Halfor. It was thought you would die deep in the Empire and take some of our other enemies with you along the way. I didn’t trust that the Bucons could finish you off. I commanded Lita to poison you and tell you she killed you as a festival present. It was my own private diversion. It amused me to know you were already dying when I set you on the scent.” Idel laughed, a low, fatalistic sound. The slight movement he made might have been a shrug.

  They looked at each other with the understanding that nothing further needed to be said.

  Pyr took a few efficient moments to strip the death goddess’s high priest of every thought in his mind. The process was brutal by its very nature, but over quickly. When he was done, Pyr knew what he needed to know and Idel of Orlin no longer existed as an intelligent being. Pyr did Idel a favor and quickly broke his neck. Then he shook off the despondency brought on by such an act, switched off the security web, and turned to face the triumphant crew of the Raptor.

  They were all there, everyone he loved, standing at the base of the dais, unhurt, and radiating satisfaction. His bondmate, his son, his friends—covered in pride, glowing with the triumph of the moment. All of them had been in enough fights to appreciate how transitory the sensation was, but right now they didn’t care. They were all looking at him and grinning. There was much left to do, but he smiled as he started down the stairs. The universe wasn’t saved, it never was, but a little part of it was going to be all right. They’d killed enough people for one day. They could rest now.

  And party, Roxanne thought as she rushed up the shallow steps to meet him. “We need to party. And have lunch.”

  He held her close and kissed her. “Of course,” he said. “Acting omnipotent always makes you hungry.” Then he put his arm around Roxanne’s shoulder, she put her arm around his waist, and they went down to join the others.

  ———

  “It’s been—eventful,” Martin said. “And that’s probably the least incriminating thing I can say about the last couple of weeks.”

  “Incriminating?” Roxy laughed. “Okay, so there’s the thing with the cloak, but you’ve behaved in exemplary fashion otherwise. If anybody’s going to get court-martialed…”She shrugged. “I think I’ve got a way around that.”

  Martin leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “I’ll be interested in hearing it.”

  It had been four days since they’d walked through the Door back to the ship from the temple with their arms full of the dead Trin’s data. Martin wasn’t actually sure how much time had passed since the day he and Glover arrived on Bonadem, but for all practical purposes, a couple of weeks would do. Besides, he’d lost over a decade in those two weeks. He wasn’t sure if Reine could adjust his age back to normal. Roxy had told him she didn’t know how to age someone, but she’d looked so teasing when she made the claim he wasn’t sure he believed her. Girl was downright giddy with love at the moment. He decided not to worry about it until he got home. Home. Damn, but he was homesick. And he thought the most surprising thing about this whole long, strange trip was that Pyr was letting him go home. In fact, he wasn’t the only one Pyr was letting return to the United Systems.

  There were several reasons, and Martin wasn’t sure which Pyr found the most compelling. There was all the disease data he was allowing Martin to take back with him. Then there was Pyr’s little problem with the Pirate League. Pyr’s heroics might make him the darling of the galaxy, but wouldn’t impress the League loan sharks who’d helped finance his pirate operation one little bit. The League was ancient and evil and insidious, its influence so well hidden that its existence was frequently disputed. Even heroes didn’t want the League mad at them.

  But the League had underestimated the United Systems’ determination to exterminate the Trin and those who helped them. Taking in the surviving Trin warlords had been a very bad policy for the League. And a good excuse for the United Systems to eat into the League’s huge power base. The Systems might not be able to destroy the League—it was ancient, powerful and insidious, after all. But it wasn’t omnipotent. Every little piece of intelligence that the Systems could gather on the League’s operations and weaknesses was being compiled. MilService and the SysSec were carefully plotting out a secretive and insidious
offensive of their own. Pyr’s datarat son had a nice collection of useful information on the Pirate League. This information would contribute to keeping the League too busy fighting the United Systems to go after Pyr.

  Of course, Martin felt half-sorry for anybody who was suicidal enough to go after someone as tough as Pyr. He chuckled, thinking, and God help anyone fool enough to disturb the domestic bliss of one of the Shirah girls.

  Martin looked around the central common-room table where they all sat. Axylel was beside him, glad of the company of those he loved, yet itching to be away as well. Mik slouched in his chair, tinkering with something as usual. Pilsane had a stack of datacubes in front of him, and held a cup of hot chocolate in one hand. Pyr was sipping a glass of wine. Everyone else had coffee. Pilsane pushed the datacubes across to Martin when Martin looked his way. Linch was playing his ligret, his head bent forward so that his blade-sharp features were obscured. Roxy and Pyr sat opposite Martin. They held hands.

  Martin still wasn’t sure how he felt about their being bonded, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He did have this vague feeling he should take Pyr aside and give him a stern, fatherly lecture about looking after his little girl. Martin also had the feeling that Pyr was a lot older than he was, a whole lot older than he was, even without Martin’s current teenage status. Pyr didn’t look much over thirty, but Axylel was around twenty, and had told Martin that he was twelve years younger than his sister. It looked like the aliens on the other side of the Rose had long lifespans. Reine would be interested to know that. She’d always been curious about who lived beyond the Rose, had written a song about it and—

  And Racqel had always known that Roxy would bond with a great warrior. Martin stroked his jaw. Hmm. Maybe the Shirah sisters weren’t going to be at all surprised at the news he was bringing home. Maybe the koltiri had always known where their little sister was destined to end up. And maybe this had something to do with what Roxy had to say about her status with the rules and regs of MilService.