MindSighted: BlackWing Pirates, Book 1

by Connie Suttle

  She'd chosen to stay behind on a dying planet when Amlis made the move with his people to Harifa Edus.

  Word of her death came shortly after. A part of his insecurity was the fear that he'd suffer from that same madness. If he continued on his paranoid course, he'd hand it to himself.

  "New Fyris is not being cheated by Harifa Edus," I said for the third time. "All transactions are conducted fairly and with just compensation, as dictated by Alliance protocol. I have gone over the agreements myself, and nothing is amiss."

  "But it costs so much to import from there," Amlis whined.

  "Transport isn't free," I said, a tinge of impatience in my voice. "Packaging for transport is also not free. Those who provide these necessary things are guaranteed payment, unless you wish to be brought up on charges levied by the Alliance."

  "No," Amlis held up a hand. "Perhaps I should read," he said.

  "Yes. Most certainly." I searched for his comp-vid while considering that he should study the agreements and cost sheets from Harifa Edus himself, rather than depending on someone else to do it for him.

  I handed the comp-vid to him. "Do you wish to have dinner in the galley, or shall I have it delivered to you here?"

  "Here is fine." He was already thumbing through the selections on his comp-vid. I hoped he'd take time to read through the schedule for the Conclave, too, and refresh his thoughts on how he'd like to vote on several questions.

  In other words, I didn't want to be forced to whisper in his ear throughout the Conclave. He needed to know and understand everything for himself. "I'll see that your dinner is delivered, with a glass of wine," I said, heading toward the door.

  "Make it a bottle," Amlis said.

  "Of course."

  Later, once Amlis had his dinner tray and bottle of wine, I walked back to the galley to eat.

  "Sit here," Lukas pushed a chair away from his table as I searched for a place to consume my meal.

  Winkler sat with him, and they were nearly finished with dinner.

  Setting my tray down with a sigh, I thanked the Grand Master before taking the offered chair. I hoped they'd make small talk and stay away from the subject of Amlis and his perceived rudeness—he should have joined these two and Rodrik for dinner.

  At times like these, I missed Morrett greatly; he and I would often have lively conversations over dinner, concerning this book or that topic. Unlike me, Morrett had escaped Amlis' clutches and had gone to work for the King of Karathia, as his librarian.

  Amlis had plenty to say about that, and it hurt to hear so many ill-spoken words aimed in Morrett's direction for abandoning New Fyris.

  Those words would never reach Morrett's ears—not from me. They were hurtful and untrue. Morrett had given Amlis his very best while employed by the Prince, and his library had grown exponentially as a result.

  Too bad Amlis chose not to read the books on mental health and emotional stability; he may have gleaned vital information from those volumes.

  "I was hoping Amlis would join us tonight," Lukas broke my silence.

  "As was I," I agreed and reached for my butter knife. It brought home images of my pap, who would do the same thing—butter his bread first of all.

  "Since we'll be sitting at the same table, representing Harifa Edus as a whole, I was hoping we'd be on the same page and vote the same way—especially on environmental issues," Lukas said.

  "I understand that," I nodded and cut into the fowl they'd served for dinner.

  "I'd like to keep the encroaching logging industry away from Harifa Edus," Lukas added.

  I felt the same way, but Amlis was looking at the money offered and not the detrimental effects of deforestation. I worried he'd choose to vote to allow logging in certain areas.

  For many years, that sort of thing had been all but outlawed by the Reth Alliance, and substitutes for wood were easy to manufacture. When the Campiaan Alliance came into being, it had already been logging—heavily—on many of its member worlds. Some of that activity had been greatly reduced, but those businesses were now looking for new sources of wood, as the trade in wood products in the Campiaan Alliance was very lucrative.

  Eventually, as it often happens, wood products made their way into the Reth Alliance due to trade agreements. Now, the logging industry in Campiaa was pushing to ply their trade in both Alliances.

  I'd done my homework on this measure, as it would directly impact Harifa Edus if the proposal was approved. Amlis, sadly, hadn't read anything on the subject, other than the amounts of money to be earned by allowing it.

  Some had suggested a counter-proposal, to grow wood on deserted worlds specifically for harvesting.

  The logging industry didn't appreciate it, because that meant there were no businesses there to support the workers or to provide local crews to control the bots needed to cut and transport the logs. Additional transport from those worlds would only add to the already high cost of logging, so they'd managed to convince both sides that it wasn't a viable option.

  Therefore, we were left with a simple yes or no vote—to allow logging or not. To me, it felt like a big step backward, but I had no vote in the Conclave and was never going to get one.

  "The Prince is still considering his options on all questions," I said. It was the most diplomatic answer I could give. It didn't sit well with Lukas, just as the truth of the matter didn't sit well with me.

  "That's a fine way to say he hasn't read it all, yet," Winkler drawled. He was right; I nodded and took another bite of my bread.

  "What is your opinion on the matter?" I asked Winkler after swallowing.

  "Hmmph. You're talking to a werewolf, son. We like cover—it's inborn. Downing a forest of trees goes against our nature."

  "And against nature in general," I said. "Except in some cases. Parasites and such."

  "Agreed. Clear what you need; leave the rest." I found I liked this werewolf, and imagined we'd agree on most things.

  "I can't speak for the Prince," I reiterated. "I can only speak for myself, and I have no vote to stand with yours."

  "I appreciate your candor," Lukas said, his voice calm. "Will you convey an invitation to the Prince to have dinner with Winkler and me tomorrow evening? Rodrik is welcome, too."

  "I will tell him," I said.

  He nodded. Winkler and he rose from the table and walked out of the galley, leaving me to my thoughts.

  Winkler

  "Ten to one he refuses," Lukas sighed as we stopped at the door to his suite.

  "I won't take that bet," I said. "He's paranoid, I'd lay a bet on that, though. I'd lay another bet that Randl knows all about it, but it's not his job to discuss the Prince's issues."

  "Privacy being the main concern. I have no doubt that Randl is an exceptional employee, or we'd have learned about Amlis' troubles long ago."

  "True. How do you approach a Prince and tell him he needs a therapist?" I'd already decided to fold space and visit Lissa to tell her all this, rather than sending mindspeech only. Mental instability in royalty and rulers of worlds was a ticking time bomb. "Good-night, Lukas. I have some things to do before bed," I waved and walked away.

  "I imagine you do," he grinned and opened the door to his berth.

  Queen's Palace, Le-Ath Veronis

  Lissa

  "He's paranoid as hell; I can smell it on him," Winkler said. "He wouldn't have dinner with Lukas, when he should be using every second of this trip to hammer out decisions for Harifa Edus at the Conclave. Did you know his assistant has visions?"

  Winkler had changed topics so quickly it surprised me.

  "Visions?"

  "Well, I don't know what else to call them. He's blind, but he has mental sight, I guess. He says it takes a few seconds to form the images in his mind."

  "Did you find out anything else?"

  "No."

  "I'll look into that," I said. "Our biggest worry is Amlis and his load of insecurity."

  "Yeah."

  "I'd consider asking Quin
to heal him, but she may not want to get that close. They have issues from the past, and I'm not sure she even wants to see him."

  "What the hell did he do to her?" Winkler was ready to slap him into next week—Quin was one of the gentle souls, and any mistreatment raised his hackles.

  "Bree says he had her beaten because she spilled his food—her way of attempting to tell him it had been poisoned."

  "Hmmph." Winkler wanted to growl, I could tell. "I think I could show him a bad time," he said.

  "Rodrik delivered the beating."

  "Two at once. Not a problem."

  "Honey, you can't go around beating every ruler or politician that's fucked up. You'd never have any time off."

  BlackWing X

  Randl

  I knew the name of the ship—its actual name. The title it bore on the outside, however, was Raptor II.

  Amlis had grudgingly agreed to have dinner with Lukas and Winkler, but only after Rodrik convinced him to go. Amlis was collapsing upon himself the closer we came to Pyrik, and that wasn't a good thing.

  "Can you really see the stars?" Trent took a chair at my breakfast table, a cup of hot tea in his hands.

  "I see them as blurs of light," I replied.

  "That's how I see them, too, at this rate of speed."

  "Then my mind isn't playing tricks on me," I confessed one of my worries to him.

  "No," Trent said. I turned to look at him; his smile settled into my vision of the galley interior.

  "Hey, bro," Travis pulled a chair beside his brother's. "Randl," he nodded at me.

  "What is that tea you drink?" I asked. "The scent is quite different from anything I've drunk before."

  "Falchani black," Trent's smile widened into a grin. "It's strong enough to keep a warrior on his feet for three days, according to my dad."

  I lifted an eyebrow. Same mother, different fathers, same birth date. Yes, I'd read of such before, but usually not in humanoids. Animals were generally the ones who could accomplish that feat.

  "Is Amlis having dinner with Lukas tonight?" Travis asked.

  "Yes, after much convincing."

  "Good. I worried we'd have to run interference."

  "Run interference?" I hadn't heard that term before.

  "It's a term used in a game played on Old Earth, called football," he explained.

  "Interesting. Can you expand on that?"

  "It's when a player goes ahead of another, to smooth the way for the one behind him. Sort of an expendable, blocking for a more important player."

  "Ah. I see," I nodded. "I'll remember that—for future use, you understand."

  "Did you ever play sports?" Trent asked.

  "No. the delay in my visions prevented it. I do play games of strategy, however."

  "Do you know how to play Irzu?" Travis asked. Irzu was a game of strategy popular on Falchan. Others played it elsewhere, but the masters were always Falchani.

  "I've never played that one—I had no way of getting the proper stones or a playing board or cloth," I admitted. "Imported items in New Fyris are limited to necessities, for the most part."

  "I'll get you a proper set," Travis said. "I have to go; the bridge is calling my name." He slapped his brother on the back when he stood, before walking out of the galley.

  "He's Captain of the Day," Trent said. "I get desk work. We switch every four days. Works out great."

  "That sounds wonderful," I admitted. "My job is the same thing, every day."

  "Must be tough, dealing with a paranoid prince," Trent said. "Enjoy the view. I have paperwork to deal with." He rose and stretched.

  I wasn't surprised that he knew about Amlis—it was getting more and more difficult to hide the insecurities. Amlis fairly radiated with it, in my opinion.

  It was one of the reasons I wanted to see Quin—or Morrett. I wished to speak with either or both in private, and ask their opinion. I could trust either, I think, not to tell anyone else about the fears I carried—and the guilt of perhaps being responsible.

  More than anything, I wanted to ask Trent and his brother about their real mission. The one involving a man thought dead, who'd arranged for transport to Pyrik. That man was secretly held in an ASD facility, while the pirate ship made its way to Pyrik.

  Travis and those others aboard BlackWing X wanted to see who arrived to meet that ship. They suspected treachery, and wanted the man's contacts and their motives.

  The ASD moved in mysterious ways—that was a common phrase everywhere in the Reth Alliance. It intrigued me. I'd never been close to anything such as this, and I wanted information.

  Trent walked out of the galley, while I wondered if he knew I might be of assistance in his investigation.

  My life in New Fyris was deadly dull, except for the burgeoning mental illness of the Prince who employed me.

  With a sigh, I contemplated what work I could accomplish during the empty hours of the day—unless Amlis required my services.

  I sincerely hoped that wasn't the case.

  King's Palace, Karathia

  Bel Erland

  "Ready?" I asked Morrett. Dad wanted both of us with him during the Conclave. Garwin Wyatt had sent mindspeech, asking when we'd be there. He and Dormas were already at the hotel in Mer'bali, Pyrik's capital city.

  We'd have three guards, Granddad and an assistant with us, to represent Karathia. People—especially those without power, generally kept their distance. Granddad could play the role to the hilt, too, as Gran often said. He'd stride through hotel lobbies and ballrooms alike, his robes billowing about him, as if he were the grandest warlock anyone would have the fortune to see.

  Dad would hide a smile and follow in Granddad's wake.

  I was looking forward to meeting Quin and Justis for dinner when they arrived; Mer'bali was famous for its seafood dishes and I hadn't had good seafood in a long time.

  My mother, Reah, could cook seafood better than anyone, but she seldom cooked nowadays—not since she'd taken the throne of Kifirin. Dad and I were both surprised when she took the throne so willingly, after Jayd and Garde went crazy and tried to destroy the planet.

  She'd named my youngest sister Lexsi as her heir, though, and that was the best choice. Lexsi was a guli, and she and her husband, Kordevik, could cut through the bullshit of any argument and hand your ass to you before you understood it had been removed.

  "Ready?" Dad walked into my suite, followed by the guards and the royal scribe.

  "Yeah. I've sent all the bags and trunks ahead," I replied.

  "Good. Do you want to do this?"

  "Sure." I grinned and folded space, taking Dad, Morrett and the others with me.

  Mer'bali, Pyrik

  Garwin Wyatt San Gerxon

  Mer'bali stretched to the sea's edge—the sea that gave Mer'bali its name. Translated, it meant sea of harmony. In the distance, the late afternoon sun glittered on its surface, giving credence to the name.

  When I turned twenty, Dad and Tybus told me what I'd known already—that there were two instead of one. If Tybus ever noticed that I'd never called him Dad before, he never mentioned it.

  I called him Uncle Tybus, now, and I often acted as a diplomat for both, clearing the way with this leader or that, so the Campiaan Alliance would run smoothly.

  "Do you have the contact information for Phrinnis Tampirus?" Dad strode into the room, fixing a cufflink on his shirt.

  "I have the contact information for President Tampirus," I said, giving the President of the Pod'l-morphs his proper title without bothering to turn around. "And the contact information for Prime Council Derik of the Sirenali."

  Revalus, home to the Pod'l-morphs and Sirenali, had joined the Campiaan Alliance. This was the planet's first Combined Alliance Conclave.

  "Do you have plans tonight?"

  "Bel and I were planning dinner," I said. "We're both hoping Quin and a few others will join us."

  "Your grandmother says that BlackWing X is following a pirate freighter. They captured a passe
nger making his way to Pyrik under a false identity. Travis and Trent are working with Kooper to find his contacts here."

  "Can't have a conclave without intrigue," I sighed. "Who is he really?"

  "Someone who was reported dead at least two decades ago."

  "Nice. Where has he been all this time?"

  "That's just it—nobody knows. Word has it he's obsessed and they can't get any useful information out of him."

  "And there I was, hoping the word obsession had reverted to its old, standard reference to stalkers, love-struck idiots and diehard fans."

  "You sound like your grandmother."

  "I come by it honestly."

  "Son, you're just making it worse."

  "People could do a lot worse than sound like Gran," I pointed out.

  "True."

  "What do you want me to do instead of having dinner with Bel?"

  "No, go ahead and have dinner with him. I was hoping you could meet Travis and Trent after they get in, to find out if they have new information, that's all."

  "I can do that. Easy," I said.

  "Good. Keep me posted. I have dinner with the Ambassadors to Venks and Benks tonight. It will probably go on forever, or I'd come with you."

  "Lucky you," I said, meaning the exact opposite. Venks and Benks orbited the same star, and the leaders were so intelligent they often accused one another of stealing their sunlight. Go figure. That's why Dad was meeting with the ambassadors instead of both leaders; they couldn't stand to be in the same room.

  "Are you sure you can handle this on your own?" I turned to tease my father.

  "The ambassadors aren't quite as stupid as both Presidents, thank the gods," Dad grinned. "I think I can make it through dinner and drinks without killing one or both of them."

  "Are you sure you can't employ compulsion?"

  "I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to," he said and lifted his jacket from the sofa. "I'll have my usual CSD guards and Dormas with me. Tell Bel I said hello."

  "Thanks, Dad."

  "If you happen to see your mother, tell her I'd like to see her while she's here."