MindSighted: BlackWing Pirates, Book 1

by Connie Suttle

  I will, I replied. In some ways, it could give me a decided advantage.

  Quin and I spent the afternoon listening to Bargel's scientists, who knowingly altered information on their reports in exchange for money and favors for their research facilities.

  At least none of them bore obsessions, like Bargel did.

  "We'll see the real information later tonight," Quin said after the last scientist was led away in shock cuffs.

  We already knew some of what would be found—certain areas of Pyrik had radiation poisoning. Most of the land was designated as wildlife refuges, where the population wasn't allowed to go. The excuse was that certain animals were breeding there to increase their populations.

  I doubted many of those animals actually existed, because the same scientists who'd been paid to alter reports had likely fabricated information on the animals in question.

  "Both Alliances have rules regarding cleanup of old nuclear waste sites," Quin stretched her arms over her head and yawned. "It was probably hidden when Pyrik joined the Campiaan Alliance, because of the expense involved."

  "And then it was just left there, because nobody wanted to deal with it or pay for it," I agreed. "I can't believe the answers we want are this simple, though," I said.

  "I was thinking the same thing. Something else is going on; we just don't know what it is, yet. According to these scientists, there were six dump sites, all designated as wildlife refuges and closed-off from the public."

  "They didn't talk much about the old city where the nuclear plant was, but they all said it was clean. Only the dump sites were the areas of concern."

  "Pyrik will have heavy fines levied, at the very least, unless they can find a way to wriggle out of it," Quin observed. "Let's go—I can get someone to take you back to the ship after we get to my suite."

  Travis

  "Six dump sites, all leaking radiation," Kooper blew out a breath and dropped a comp-vid in front of me. He'd come to the ship's galley to give me an update on the questioning, and information on the new soil and air analyses. In return, he expected a report on Sabrina's findings regarding the sat-bot images.

  "Turns out," Kooper went on, "It's much cheaper to pay off scientists than clean up the mess. At least they were honest about the manipulation of their reports. Saved me plenty of time and trouble. Quin and Randl say they were telling the truth and none were obsessed."

  "I can't believe this is the whole of it," I said. "Why would they destroy a ship, if this is all it is? Sure, it explains the attempt on Riffler's life, but that's it. Why was Vrak so important? What is it that's affecting Vrak and the others we've seen?"

  "I have no idea. The forensics specialists are still examining everything there is to examine on those bodies. I won't get a report until tomorrow, at the earliest."

  "Here he is," Trent folded into the galley, with Randl at his side. Randl carried an expensive, leather valise.

  "Sit down," Kooper gestured. Trent and Randl joined us; Randl shoved the valise beneath the table before sitting in the chair beside mine.

  "Where did that come from?" I asked.

  "Quin gave it to me."

  "Ah."

  "She said I could carry my comp-vid and other things in it."

  "Nice."

  "What's the word from Sabrina?" Kooper asked.

  "She says the technology is identical to hers—from a year ago. She's made improvements since then, so if it's industrial espionage, the theft took place around that time. She showed me how the two designs are now different, by showing me the laser echoes from the sat-bot images. From above, the echoes look hollow. Her improvements show the echoes appearing solid. It would be very difficult to sort out which was the real laser blast until you were hit with it. Certainly not enough time to employ counter measures."

  "Spooky," Trent wiggled his fingers. Randl laughed.

  "It's still good enough to have everybody fooled from the surface," Kooper grumbled.

  "It does that well enough," I agreed. "What are they going to do about the dump sites?"

  "Teeg hasn't made a decision, and probably won't until Bargel's successor is in place. They'll have to hammer out a plan for cleanup, but that could take a while. I'm sure a fine will be levied, too, but the amount will have to be determined. Pyrik could be placed on probation, as a result."

  "And here we are, having a Conclave," Trent shook his head. Randl forced back a snicker.

  "What's the word on the scry spell on the building?" I asked.

  "Nothing. Since it disappeared so quickly, there's no way to track it to a source."

  "So they could be spying from long distance, and know about everybody who went in and out," Randl said.

  "Your disguises would hold," Kooper reassured him. "They don't have your real images."

  "That's something, at least," Randl sighed.

  "You're worried about this, aren't you?" I turned toward him.

  "Very much."

  Kooper's comp-vid squawked before I could ask Randl a follow-up question.

  "Holy fuck," Kooper was standing the moment he read the message. "Come with me. We have something to sort out."

  Randl

  Three forensic physicians and one assistant physician were in holding cells, after they'd attempted to kill Jett Riffler in his hospital room.

  "These are the ones assigned to examine the bodies of those affected, aren't they?" I asked the moot question. I knew who they were. I also knew what the danger was that I'd worried about for two days.

  "What do you know?" Kooper demanded. He, Travis, Trent and I stood at high windows overlooking the prisoners' cells.

  "I think the act of examining those bodies unleashed something that is now affecting those four," I said, touching the glass. "They have the beginnings of the infection, for lack of a better term. If Quin were here, she may tell you that they carry the beginnings of an obsession. That obsession may have been to kill Director Riffler."

  "Are you saying that the obsession can pass from one to another, like a virus?" Travis sounded incredulous.

  "I can't say that for sure," I hedged. "It's so cloudy to me—their minds and my vision of them."

  "Travis, Trent," Kooper turned to them, his voice stern. "Did you clean your claws using power after you beheaded those two in Riffler's suite?"

  "Yeah. Our clothes and shoes, too. Why?"

  "We need to quarantine everything in that room. Anything their blood touched, everything," Kooper snapped. "I'm sending mindspeech to Quin. I hate to pull her in so late, but there's no help for it, I'm afraid."

  Bel Erland transported Quin into the facility. She hugged me immediately before turning to the four prisoners in the rooms below.

  "This is awful," she breathed after a few moments. "These—they feel exactly how Bargel did to me—with his obsession. Like it was growing."

  "Fucking hells," Kooper swore before lifting his comp-vid and tapping on its surface. "Bloody, fucking hells."

  Kooper Griff

  "Jett, did any of them touch you?" I demanded.

  I stood at his bedside, after having him moved to another room. Quin and Randl were busy examining the hospital staff, to ensure they were unaffected by whatever was eating away at former President Bargel and four forensics specialists.

  "No, I threw my dinner tray at the first one when he lifted a knife and came toward me. The guards grabbed all of them, then."

  "I've spoken to the guards. They're unaffected."

  Quin and Randl said so, after I'd pulled them all out of bed for a quick examination. I didn't say how grateful I was that the forensics specialists weren't practiced in sticking a knife in a body that could move on its own.

  Randl had been right to say the examination of those bodies made him uncomfortable. I made a mental note to pay special attention to his feelings from now on.

  "Care to explain that? How the physicians were affected and the guards weren't?" Jett scooted into a more comfortable position on his bed. "I'd like to get
out of this infernal bed, too, if you don't mind. I feel perfectly fine."

  "I know," I waved off his request. "Maybe tomorrow. Keeping you here keeps the population misinformed about your miraculous recovery."

  "Yeah. I appreciate that, by the way."

  "Thank Quin, not me."

  "That winged woman is quite talented."

  "In many ways," I agreed, "And I can't explain what I don't fully understand, yet," I told him. "When you're moved away from this facility, I'll give you what I have."

  "Good. I hope it's tomorrow."

  "I'm looking for a secure place for you, now. When I find it, I'll have you moved immediately."

  "I suppose I should say thank you, but it won't be sincere," Jett complained.

  "Thank me later. I don't give a damn about sincerity."

  "I understand that about you."

  Randl

  "For now, Kooper's considering it similar to a virus—a slow-spreading one," Travis said.

  We'd been up most of the night, going from one hospital employee to another, ensuring that none of them had been infected by whatever the four forensics physicians carried.

  Those four were now quarantined and their cells off-limits to anyone not wearing biohazard suits. Quin and Bel Erland went back to their suites at the hotel when we finished our examinations; Travis, Trent and I sat at our favorite table in BlackWing X's galley, having a beer before going to bed.

  "Activities canceled until noon," Trent yawned before taking another swallow of beer from his bottle.

  "Yeah. Thanks, Captain Trent," Travis said.

  "Oh. I forgot," I said, pulling the case from beneath the table, where I'd left it earlier. "I have something for you. From Zaria."

  Travis and Trent froze.

  "Zaria?" Travis whispered after several moments passed.

  "Yeah." I dug around in the satchel, searching for the boxes with their names printed on them. "Here." I set the appropriate boxes in front of them. "I have one, too. She said not to take them off, not even in the shower."

  "Holy shit, bro—Zaria is trying to tell us something," Trent breathed as he lifted his medallion from the box.

  "She said they'll only work for the person whose name is on the medallion," I added.

  Without another word, both medallions were placed around their necks and hidden beneath shirts. "What did you mean, Zaria is trying to tell us something?" I thought to ask. These two knew who Zaria was.

  "What did she look like when you saw her?" Travis asked a question of his own.

  "Dark hair, intense blue eyes, white wings," I shrugged. "Quin says Zaria is her mother."

  "For all intents and purposes, Zaria is Quin's mother," Trent said. "She's also Larentii—whenever she feels like it."

  I stilled. "Huh?" was the only thing I could articulate past that.

  "Don't worry about it. If Zaria gives you something, it's time to sit up and pay attention," Travis said. "Who else has a box?"

  "David, Sabrina and Jayna," I said. "I have a message for Sabrina. Zaria says she could balk at receiving a gift from a stranger."

  "If Zaria says so, then you can take that to the bank," Travis said.

  "Why would I take it—wait, that's another of your strange phrases, isn't it?"

  Trent choked so hard on a laugh, his brother had to slap him on the back.

  Sabrina

  Something had happened the night before, I just didn't know what it was. I'd be damned if I'd ask what it was, too. Determined to learn what it was on my own, I faced Jayna in my first self-defense lesson aboard ship.

  "That's good," she said after I managed to break out of her hold on the second try. "You should work on your strength, though. I believe Travis and Trent want Randl to work out with weights. You can do that together. In a few weeks, we'll see about training you with weapons."

  "My aim was good enough to take down an attacker," I grunted as she came at me again.

  "From close range," Jayna reminded me and knocked me flat on my back. "Come on, you need to keep your feet under you. Standing with your feet together guarantees that somebody can knock you down with little effort."

  "Great," I hissed when I got my breath back. Rolling over, I pulled myself to a standing position as smoothly as I could.

  "I'll get Travis or Trent to teach you balance," Jayna added. "You'll come up from a fall easier and more gracefully than you ever imagined possible. The Falchani have a knack for it."

  "And there I was, thinking I'd done a good job," I deflected her next strike.

  "You're not bad—at least you've had some training and only picked up a few poor habits along the way. I knew nothing when I started, and was clumsy as all hells."

  "For all of five minutes, probably," I grunted as she hit me with a follow-up blow to the shoulder. I hadn't been ready for that one, and only managed to turn my face away in time.

  I was beginning to realize how quickly I'd go down if faced with a trained, experienced fighter. My training would only protect me against an average, uneducated attacker. My resolve to learn everything I could from Jayna solidified in fierce determination.

  If I could honestly protect myself after three years with the ASD, then I'd suffer through it gladly. There'd been a time when I'd felt more helpless than I'd ever felt, when my family and I had been kidnapped by one of the worst criminals the Alliances had ever seen.

  We'd been separated, too, and I found myself herded onto an abandoned outpost, amid many strangers. The outpost had failing life support systems and, as we were useless as hostages in the kidnappers' eyes, we'd been left there to die.

  If I hadn't employed everything I'd learned from my genius father to divert energy to a distress call, we'd have died.

  I will forever be grateful to those who hadn't ignored the weak signal and strayed from their shipping route to investigate. That act had saved many lives—mine included.

  It was an arm of the ASD that saved my father, too, although the full story of how that happened would probably never be explained to me.

  Too many closely guarded secrets and a mountain of classified information was involved, no doubt.

  "I think I've beaten you up enough for today," Jayna said. "Come on, clean up and we'll go to breakfast. I hear they're making omelets."

  "Here." Randl slid a small box toward me. I'd chosen my usual table and ate alone in the galley—until Randl set his tray on the other side and pulled the box from his pocket.

  "What's that?" I asked after I swallowed what I was chewing.

  "It's something Zaria sent for you," he said and pulled out the chair opposite mine to sit down. "I have one, too. Zaria says that if you have a problem accepting gifts from strangers, to tell you that Fergue is the biggest asshole in the Alliances."

  "She sent the same thing to Travis and me," Trent said, setting his mug of tea on the table and pulling in another chair. "Trust me, Zaria is trying to protect you in some way. David and Jayna got one, too, and the rest of us are already wearing them."

  I snorted a breath before reaching out to lift the lid from the box. Inside was an elegant gold chain with a beautiful, gold pendant hanging from it. My name, in lovely script, was engraved on one side.

  "She says to always wear it, even in the shower," Randl said.

  "Who is Zaria?" I thought to ask as I held the pendant in my hand, examining it closely.

  "Quin's mother," Randl shrugged.

  "Quin. Queen Quin, of the Avii?"

  "Yes."

  Somehow, she'd been involved in the rescue of my parents—they said so. "I'll wear it, then," I said and pulled the chain over my head.

  "Good." Trent released a sigh, as if he were worried that I wouldn't accept the gift. "Now," he said, more business-like, "Who is Fergue?"

  "A lying, cheating asshole," I said. "Any other questions?"

  "No." Trent shrugged and sipped tea to hide his grin.

  "What's on the agenda for today?" I asked.

  "A trip to your home world
, for some investigative work and to test the hyperdrive after I repaired it," David said as he ambled up to the table. "I think you need to homestead on a bigger table," he said, dragging another chair in and sitting between Randl and me.

  "Hmmph," I said and cut another chunk off my omelet. The food was good and I wasn't about to let them keep me from eating.

  "We have ASD vids for you to study while we're on the way," Trent said. "There'll be a test later to ensure you learn your lessons."

  "They're interesting," Randl said. "You'll be able to ask questions, too."

  "How long is the course and when will the tests be given?" I asked.

  "If you attend the classes, six months. With the vids—as quickly as you finish them and declare yourself ready for testing." Trent grinned.

  "When will we get underway?" I asked, pointedly ignoring him.

  "When David and I make it to the bridge—less than an hour," Trent replied. "Dave is our engineer and after every repair, he's always on the bridge to see how things go."

  "Because long-distance finger-pointing is never as much fun as doing it in close quarters," David said. "Captains Trent and Travis prefer the short-distance method."

  "There'll be things to sign on your comp-vid, too, before you get started on the lessons," Trent said, rising and stretching. For a moment, I wanted to reach out and pull the end of his long, black braid.

  Since he was one of my new bosses, I didn't want to spend time in the brig for assaulting the Captain's person, or whatever the legal, ASD-ish term was.

  "What sort of things?" I asked instead.

  "Confidentiality agreements, permission for extensive weapons training, that sort of thing. Basically, you're telling Director Griff that you won't get in trouble, or get the ASD in trouble, and you'll keep secrets, as a working member of the ASD."

  "Right."

  "I'll let you play with an ASD-issued ranos pistol if you sign those agreements and mean it," Trent said.

  "Seriously?"

  "Yeah. Kooper says to let you examine the real thing after you're officially signed up, and compare your design with it and send him a report on potential improvements. After that, bro and I will teach you the proper way to use it."