by Mary Andrews
“So how are we to contact your friends?” Mallory was saying.
I'll take you to them now. She stepped around him and headed for the doorway.
He followed her too closely and ominously leaning over her shoulder, spoke through the veil.
She froze. He was so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath.
“Almost like old times, huh?"
From within, she felt Ira press her to action. Reaching up, she activated the door before them. As it opened, she stepped into the hallway. Ira's soft voice guided her to each turn and exit; relaying Rael's chosen path as they tracked her progress. Mallory found her newfound confidence unsettling, and Ira was reveling in it. Tristen was too busy concentrating on what she was doing to dwell on it.
She was enormously relieved when they re-entered the main hall. Laynald's vision joined with the others now. His skilled eyes kept her expertly informed of everything around her as he shadowed them across the room and out the main entranceway.
Into the evening she led them, among the bright lights and street performers, through dazzling spectacles and fiery twilit streets. Even the market streets had now assumed full carnival atmosphere as the sun set behind them. Through milling crowds gathering here and there, they hurried onwards.
Mallory found this increasingly uncomfortable. He sensed something wrong and didn't like it. “Hold up here,” he called out to her.
Tristen stumbled as the jolt from the collar shot through her.
“I said stop!” Mallory reached to grab her.
Then there was a flash of motion ... Laynald was moving in ... she saw herself clutching at the collar ... Mallory stiffened in mid-step...
Then, Ira stood beside her. He put his arm around her, gathering her to his side and quickly guided her away toward the spaceport. She melted into his side and allowed him to all but carry her to safety.
From behind them, she glimpsed Mallory being semi-carried, semi-dragged between Rael and Laynald. Through Laynald's eyes, she witnessed his quick retrieval of the tiny dart from the back of Mallory's neck.
* * *
CHAPTER 12
Finally back aboard the Nemesis, Ira and Tristen fully embraced. Ira brushed the veil from her head, allowing it to settle once more upon her shoulders. He mournfully touched her bruising face. We should put something on that to slow the swelling. Are you alright? His gaze fell to the collar. Why did you let him put that thing on you? I told you not to.
Tristen pulled her face away and turned toward the ship's interior. He needed to feel in control, or he would have bolted. I know him, Ira.
That's the problem. Ira started after her. We had contingencies for that, but no, you know best, and now you've succeeded in giving our prisoner a weapon that cuts our forces in half!
Tristen paused, turning to face him, Laynald can take him ... and he did, by the way.
Ira squared off before her. Why do you continually ignore everything I try to tell you?
She sighed and turned away, heading again for the door to the lift that would deliver them to the ship's main corridor near the sick bay. I did not ignore you, I disagreed. She stepped into the compartment.
Shaking his head, Ira followed her, allowing the sliding door to close behind them.
From the docking bay door, Rael and Laynald watched their silent exchanges. Laynald sighed and nodded toward the medical gurney he had left by the ramp. Together, they hefted Mallory onto it.
“Looks like the honeymoon's over, huh?” Rael said.
“Even accelerated relationships take a while to settle in, I guess. All the reports I could find insist that, as they fuse, they'll completely bypass futile arguments. But first, they have to learn to know and accept each other. Hopefully her discipline and training will expedite this. Then things should settle back to normal—I hope."
“You researched PSIonic relationships?” Rael shook his head. “I should've thought of that."
Laynald smiled, “Only made sense since this is definitely going to affect our work place. It was self defense—can't be too prepared, huh?"
Rael finished strapping Mallory to the gurney as the rumbling outer docking bay doors closed. “Did you do any research on how that slave collar works?"
“Yep, we still have some options to consider, and this guy's only gonna be out for about an hour, so we really should get to it.” He headed for the elevator with the gurney in tow. “Now the fun can begin."
* * * *
Mallory Switt felt strangely relaxed and rested when he opened his eyes. He realized that medical restraints were being used to bind him to the examining table; he yanked at them anyway. They held as tightly as the ones he used on his prisoners. He sighed. The room was obviously a medical lab, but for some reason the lighting had been left dimmed. That seemed unusual since most interrogation sites were overly bright. He strained to look around the room again: wall scanner, assorted cabinets and shelves. Why am I here alone? He reached out with his mind for Tristen. Where are you, little one?
“She's not here.” Ira's soft voice startled him from across the room.
“Who's there?” Mallory strained to locate him.
Ira stepped out from the shadows, his steel blue eyes glistening eerily as he smiled. “Don't worry that you couldn't sense my presence, Mallory. I'm just like that.” The laser red insignia of Gov-Dark Ops activated and showed through the back of his gloved hand as he ran it through his fine raven hair. “I trust that you are comfortable there.” He crossed the room toward the examination table, exuding malice with each step until he finally loomed over Mallory.
“Who are you?” Mallory gasped as an unnatural dread churned up from his stomach. “What are you doing?"
Ira smiled again and casually removing his gloves, leaned over him. “Things have changed, Mr. Switt,” he whispered.
Mallory tensed, fighting an inexplicable terror he could not contain. “She said you had a deal for me.” He grappled to catch his breath, his heart pounding louder and louder, and his head aching.
Ira cradled Mallory's face in his hands, forcing him to meet his unnatural gaze, “All in good time, Mallory ... all in good time."
The words echoed through Mallory's mind.
Physical contact finally completing the link between them, Ira pushed further. Matching the prisoner's turbulent resonances, he spiked a feral terror in him, speeding up his pulse, impeding his lungs, clouding his vision.
As a raging nexus of pain ripped through him, Mallory screamed.
Releasing him, Ira stepped back and allowed his handiwork to dissipate. He watched as Mallory's eyes cleared and then smiling cruelly, lashed out once more for good measure.
Mallory's body lurched against his bondage.
Ira loomed over Switt's stricken form and allowed time enough to recover. “As I said earlier,” he began softly. “Things have changed, Mr. Switt—and these are not ‘just like old times'.” He picked up his dark gloves and leisurely slid them on again, allowing Mallory time to contemplate what he had said. “I'm going to assume now that you no longer harbor delusions as to who is in charge."
Heart pounding, sweat glistening from his forehead, Mallory nodded.
“Very good.” Ira released the bonds with a snap and stepped away. “Sit up, Mr. Switt, you have some business to attend to."
Mallory fought back a wave of nausea as he pulled himself up and slid to the table's edge. Throwing his legs over its side, he struggled to regain his composure.
Across the room, the sickbay door slid open. Tristen stepped in, closely flanked by Laynald and Rael. Mallory smiled at her weakly, noting that though they all wore different styles of clothing, they were all in black. Laynald and Rael each in turn flashed the same ruby red Dark Ops Ident just as Ira had earlier. The room's lighting glared to normal intensity.
These must be your new friends, huh? Mallory thought to her.
She crossed the room and stood before him. Yes, do not make them your enemies.
“Remove the collar, Mr. Switt,” Rael ordered from behind her.
Mallory looked at him dumbly. “Are you the commander here?"
“I do not like to repeat myself.” Rael glanced over to Ira. “I thought you explained to him who is in charge?"
The collar dropped from Tristen's throat and fell to the floor.
Ira walked up and retrieved it. He paused for a moment to tenderly stroke the bruised flesh on her neck where the collar had been, then glared at Mallory. He handed it to her. “Put it back on, Tristen,"
She replaced it, once more holding it to her throat until it locked shut again.
“Watch closely what I do here.” Ira phased, again matching Mallory's resonance, and commanded the collar to release—just as Mallory had done. It dropped to the floor again.
Tristen picked up the collar and, stepping closer to Mallory, she put it on. Then with unseeing eyes aimed directly toward him, she released the lock and dropped it to the floor herself. No more hostages, she sadly thought to him. You must cooperate now or die. Then she turned to the captain. Thank you, sir.
Rael frowned at her bruised face and throat. “No, thank you, Tristen. Go with Ira now. I have to discuss some business with Mr. Switt here."
Ira gently drew her away to a seat along the wall behind the examining table.
Mallory sat watching their interaction. You have bonded with him, little one?
“YES,” Ira answered, “and you would do well to remember that."
Mallory raised his hands in surrender. Point taken. He turned back to face the captain. “Ok, what can I do for you Commander?"
Rael smiled. “Good of you to ask."
* * *
CHAPTER 13
Mallory returned to The Jungle with Tristen and two dark-clad lieutenants. Upon his arrival, he called his staff together and announced the new order of things. “The stakes have been raised, boys, so I'm bringing in the big guns now. These gentlemen,” he motioned to Rael and Ira, “are called ‘The Black Guard.’ They will head my security from now on. Keep them informed at all times, and you will follow their every command without question. Is that understood?"
A few of Mallory's old guard eyed them suspiciously. Ira slid his glasses down enough to reciprocate and sported a wicked grin to further enhance his eerie visage. Even Tristen flinched at what they saw. Rael's temple plates flickered brightly for the briefest moment, and the transfer of power was complete. Nobody seemed to want to question them any further.
“Well, that was fun,” Mallory finally said. “Everyone get back to your duties, and we'll be on our way.” He motioned for Tristen to follow him, and the Black Guard fell in line behind them. All right Commander, was that the way you wanted it to go?
Rael smiled. Not bad, Mr. Switt. You may live to tell of this someday, after all. Now take us to your main quarters. I believe your office is there as well, isn't it?
Mallory smiled back over his shoulder at Tristen. Come on, little one. Let's show everyone the way home.
Ira's rage raked across her senses. Tristen sighed.
* * * *
Mallory's office suites were magnificent. They were spacious, well furnished rooms with elaborate décor and at least two adjoining sets of quarters. Rael looked them both over and laid claim to the smallest one. “This will work just fine for my purposes. The rest of you can fight it out for the second room, but from here on out, Mallory is not to leave without an escort. Is that clear?"
Ira and Tristen both nodded.
“I'll be monitoring all your correspondences and communiqués as well."
Mallory frowned. “I don't suppose that we could discuss any of this, could we?"
Rael shook his head. “Nope.” Ira and Tristen flinched as his temples plates began flickering. “You probably should go now. I'm setting up an interface with the ship and Laynald through this desk-com.” He got a distant look on his face as he concentrated on something else.
Turning to leave, Mallory glanced back over his shoulder. “The other room is mine, you know.” He smiled. “But you can sleep with me if you would like, little one."
Ira answered softly, containing the anger that Mallory enjoyed invoking in him. “Keep your room. Those expensive couches in your office will provide more than enough comfort for us to keep an eye on things, and you, from there."
“Very well,” Mallory grinned, “but the offer stands if you change your mind."
They pulled the door closed as they left.
Rael dropped into a comfortable chair near the desk and allowed a smile to creep across his face as he initiated the beginning of an intricate campaign to undermine Harbringer's interests and holdings on this planet.
And so on Tanivol, payrolls suddenly became electronically lost. Funds mysteriously rerouted themselves to newly created, and barely hidden, accounts in Mallory's name. Intercepted messages went missing. Meetings were cancelled or rescheduled, and various utilities and services were sporadically shut off. Not one of Harbringer's planet-side properties went unscathed as Rael tirelessly poked and prodded his target. Finally leaning back, he reviewed his accomplishments, then nodded his satisfaction. Now that's what I call a personal invitation! Let's see how long it takes for that bastard to RSVP.
* * * *
From high atop the loft of the great tree, Laynald sat quietly watching the main hall's activities. After insisting that Rael reprogram the annoying fairies and fauna to leave him alone, he was finding this assignment almost pleasant. It had the joys of the hunt in a challenging environment. Suddenly, he leaned forward to see better. Sure enough, he identified a man moving through the crowds in a predatory manner. Heading straight toward where Mallory was making his rounds of the great hall.
From below, Ira and Tristen caught Laynald's image of their would-be-assailant as he began closing in on them from the rear. In unison, they both spun to face him, shoving Mallory from danger.
The assassin, now brandishing a weapon, lunged for a clearer shot. Customers scattered. Mallory summoned his telepaths to his side. All programmed servers and entertainers froze as everybody sprang into the fray. In an almost choreographed manner, both hunter and prey stood poised in mid-motion.
From the loft, Laynald loosed a dart: dropping his target neatly into the arms of Mallory's men.
During the commotion, Ira palmed the dart from the assassin's neck. “Secure him below and make sure that he is properly disarmed."
Mallory nodded at them and smiled at Tristen. “Good job. Do you think we should, maybe, follow him downstairs and interrogate him, little one?"
Ira roughly pressed him away from the crowd and toward the hidden exit from the hall.
Tristen followed, caught again in the wake of her mate's anger and Laynald's ever-present viewpoint. This had been the closest that anyone had gotten—this week.
Laynald signaled for another drink and remaining in shadow mode, continued to provide surveillance reports and back up contact with Rael.
* * * *
About a week later, Ira sat across the room from Mallory, who pretended not to notice him. Switt seemed to have adapted to constant surveillance all too well. It annoyed Ira to be around him, and his overly familiar attentions to Tristen did not help.
“So tell me, little one,” he was saying, “what is it that Commander Pointe has been doing all this time? Other than the pleasure of your company, everything's been pretty uneventful here lately, wouldn't you say?"
Ira spoke up from his vantage point. “As we speak, you are making enemies—lethal ones. Harbringer's people have even sent a few hunters after you. Laynald's dispatched seven so far, I think. Since he's so good we haven't had to deal with many of them, but even better assassins are surely on their way if we don't hurry and make our move soon. We should be contacting Harbringer directly. In fact,” his smile broadened, “you may have already. Rael's pretty good at what he does too."
Mallory looked annoyed. “Then I don't see why you needed me at all."
“
Neither do I,” Ira stated flatly.
“Stop it, Ira,” Tristen reproached him.
In timely fashion, Rael stepped into the room. His platinum hair looked unkempt and his clothing disheveled. He motioned them toward the desk. “All right it's show time.” He flicked his hair out of his face. “Mallory, pull up a seat here.” He tapped on the desk. “I've got Harbringer on hold."
“What?” Mallory scrambled for the chair. “Are you crazy? He'll kill me! Nobody keeps him waiting. Hell, what are you saying? I'm not important enough to even get through to him.” He dropped into the chair and reached out to activate the com screen. “What does he want, anyway?"
Rael stopped him.
“Compose yourself, Mallory.” Rael said with a smile. “Here's where you earn your keep. Harbringer's time is at hand."
Ira found the menace in his voice unsettling.
“Oh, and Mr. Switt, you're wrong. You have become very important to him of late. Why this last week alone, you have blatantly undermined and usurped all of his planetary holdings here. You were very efficient too, I might add. In fact, you were devastating."
Mallory dropped back into his seat and cocked his head to the side. “Is that so?"
“Oh yes. In fact, I do believe that he's developed a whole new respect for you of late.” Rael paused. “But now that you've made your point and flexed your muscles for him, I think that you might be trying to decide what you want to do next.” Rael walked around the desk and sat down across from Mallory and out of sight from the screen. “You see, you know that Harbringer wants me, and now he knows that I am in your control. (But in fact, you now have my whole team except for Laynald—probably killed in the takeover, you know.) Any way you've come to realize that Gov intervention will soon become inevitable now, so you're wanting to make an arrangement with him to get you out of the target zone.” Rael leaned back in the chair. “Got it?"
Mallory nodded, “I see. Since he's been trying to get you all along, this could work!” He signaled for Tristen to stand behind him within sight of the view screen.
“Just like old times, little one."
