by Mary Andrews
They pulled up alongside an impressive corporate transport ship—The Cherubim. Laynald watched as they boarded and considered the odds of successfully stowing away but didn't take long to decide that telepathic crewmembers never made for good odds. He would definitely have preferred to make a stand back at the Jungle, but Rael had insisted. Laynald shook his head. Hope he knows what he's doing.
Retrieving the shooter from his pack, he dropped a marker into it. Sighting it to Cherubim's silver hull, nearest the ship's engines, he fired. The load landed with a splat, probably not audible through the heavily plated structure and rumbling engine noises. Laynald packed the shooter back up. Colorless, odorless and unable to be jammed, its payload would leave a light radiation trail that Nemesis’ sensors were set to follow. Laynald smiled. Nobody paid attention to minor radiations in the wake of high tech gadgetry. He secured the bag and mounted his glider. The ships lifting beacons were starting to signal departure. He set off for Nemesis. In the thirty minutes it would take Harbringer to receive clearance from the port, he would be happily monitoring them from orbit. Dark Ops vessels were untouchable, unstoppable and uncharted.
* * * *
Harbringer plopped down onto a soft sofa and motioned for Rael to do the same onto an equally comfortable looking chair across from him. “This is my private lounge,” he explained as he dismissed all but one of the guards with a wave of his hand.
Rael sat down as he had been told but did not relax. The remaining guard began preparing their refreshments, apparently per Harbringer's silent command. Rael watched him. Somehow, this guard did not seem like the others. He had finer features, was taller and more slender. His movements were more fluid too. And though he had the same long fine platinum hair and same steel gray eyes, he did not seem at all as cold and detached as the others. His presence was comfortably unobtrusive, but warm at the same time.
“This is Gabriel,” Harbringer told him. “He's getting us some coffee. You do like coffee, don't you? I've acquired some of the most amazing blends from damn near everywhere. Love the stuff. Picked up a taste for it centuries ago."
Rael leaned back in his chair and said nothing.
Harbringer frowned. “Now, come on. Don't be like that. We're finally all alone and able to talk without any annoying distractions. You can speak freely now. In fact, I've been looking forward to hearing what you have to say.” He studied Rael's features as a strange weariness overcame his. “You don't know what a relief it is to finally have you here. After centuries of service, I find myself longing for retirement. Even the thought of death doesn't bother me anymore. But enough of this. Surely you have some questions to ask me. Go ahead and ask. We have so much to talk about, and this trip isn't going to take very long. The temple's not that far away."
Rael sighed and spoke softly. “We really don't have that much to talk about. It's my job to bring scum like you to justice, one way or another. That's all."
“Oh really. How presumptuous of you. Do you know where I'm taking you or why? And, of course, there's the matter of your parentage. Was it me or just my fault? Then, what else ... let's see ... how old am I? How have I survived? Where did I come from? Why do you exist? How come I let you live, much less escape? Nothing. Absolutely nothing to talk about?"
Rael stared back contemptuously. “Nothing."
Harbringer shook his head, “You are so stubborn!” Then he smiled, a cold and malicious smile. He leaned forward in his seat. “You got that from me, you know, though your mother had more than her share of it too, as I recall, and so did your guardian. I miss her, she was a worthy opponent."
Rael looked away in disgust but refused to speak.
“Fine then, as my Heir Apparent you'll create your own damn legacy no matter what I do or don't tell you. Have it your way!"
Gabriel placed a tray with coffee and snacks between them. Rael noted that Harbringer seemed to calm as Gabriel handed him a steaming cup.
An exchange of more than a rendered service passed between them. Another damn telepath, he thought to himself. When did I join the PSI Ops? He refused the cup that Gabriel offered to him and looked the man in the eye. He felt a sadness that he had not expected.
Gabriel stepped away and took his place, standing by the door in silence. Rael found it hard to look away from him. But when he did, he found Harbringer studying him over the steaming drink.
Rael met his gaze and felt another surge of hostility overwhelm him.
Harbringer sighed and slammed the cup onto the table. “Enough of this. We've landed. Let's get this thing over with.” He stood up and straightened his jacket before starting for the door. Gabriel allowed him to pass into the hallway before motioning for Rael to join them.
Rael got up and followed Harbringer. To his surprise, only Gabriel accompanied them, apparently as escort. The other six bodyguards remained in place along the corridor. One by one, they each snapped to attention as Harbringer passed in some sort of tribute.
“What is happening here?” Rael asked Gabriel.
Gabriel smiled sadly. The inevitable, he answered.
By the third corridor, Rael decided that the others were not going to follow them. There were only two doorways left before reaching an open ship's exit. If Ira and Tristen were in one of those rooms, he would have to make his move soon or lose his dubious advantage. As suspicious as all of this was, they might still be able to pull this mission off after all. The thought of Harbringer in a Gov-interrogation cell made him smile, but only for a second. Powerful SOB's like him seldom paid in full for their crimes.
Harbringer, stopping at the last doorway, deactivated the lock and watched as the door slid open with a click. Ira and Tristen sat together on a cot across the room. Mallory stood up to greet them from a chair by the door.
Harbringer pointed to Tristen. “You come with me,” he said. “It's time we end this charade once and for all."
Tristen rose from the cot to follow Harbringer.
Ira, grabbing her arm, pulled her back and stepped in front of her. “No. I don't think so,” he said softly.
Rael, realizing that Ira was not wearing gloves, braced himself and moved so as to block the doorway and much of Gabriel's view of the room.
Harbringer advanced menacingly toward Ira.
Mallory, attempting a blow from behind, gasped as Harbringer twisted and flung him directly into Ira instead. They crashed into a pile on the floor by the little cot.
Harbringer roughly grabbed Tristen and was starting to turn for the exit as Ira reached out and seized his other hand. Skin-to-skin contact, the connection completed, Harbringer found himself unable to resist Ira's paralyzing intent. In a desperate attempt to shake it, Harbringer flung Tristen away with all his might, sharply cracking her head against the wall.
Ira gasped but managed to hold on, cruelly inflicting pain and terror into him.
Rael had been half watching, half concentrating on confounding Gabriel's attempts to gain entrance, but at the sight of Tristen sprawled helplessly at Harbringer's feet, something inside of him snapped. He envisioned his mother, Mahata and now Tristen. He body-slammed the guard and rushed into the room, locking the door behind him. Crossing the room in a rage, he punched Harbringer square in the face. Harbringer crumbled next to where Ira knelt.
“Stop!” Mallory cried out as he scrambled to reach them. “We need him alive to get past the guards! He's our bargaining chip, remember?” He tugged at Rael, dragging him away to prevent any further damage.
“I want this bastard dead!” Rael shouted.
From where she had fallen, Tristen pulled herself up. Suddenly everything had become very clear to her. Rael's voice echoed in her mind. She joined with Ira: like-unto-like in his possession of Harbringer, and she pushed ... I want him dead ... She pushed him along the same paths he had seen only once before. He could not stop or slow their progression, and she pushed harder ... dead! They raced together now, shattering the passageways they traveled, creating directionless maelstroms o
f internal destruction to the point of no return until everything exploded into a burst of white ... DEAD!
Ira found himself bathed in the warmth and brightness of what he knew to be death; floating free with Tristen, and Harbringer was there too.
“What have you done, girl? I was never meant to be your target,” Harbringer was saying.
“No, but he ordered your death."
“Probably just as well. Can you still get back?"
Tristen nodded, and Harbringer faded away, then with a crash of lightning, everything went black.
* * *
CHAPTER 15
Laynald had not found his trip particularly long, but the destination had proven to be unexpectedly remote. On a planet whose every square inch was marketable, it seemed that Harbringer owned a mountaintop. It was devoid of anything, just rocks and grass, a few trees, a landing pad and a tiny ornate structure. Laynald studied it closely from what little coverage he had found among a nearby shrubbery. It was a pagoda-shaped framework made up of golden rod work. It stood open to the elements with what could easily have been an altar taking up most of one side. The ceiling was solid and well designed with exquisitely ornate trimmings carved into it. Something about it bothered him, but he couldn't quite decide what.
Harbringer's ship had landed well over forty-five minutes ago, and there was still no sign of activity. A glimmer of movement from the ship caught his eye. The long loading bay door-plank was rolling down to provide egress. Laynald strained to identify the lone figure emerging. Stumbling and falling halfway down the plank, she scrambled unsteadily to her feet and staggered away from the ship. Laynald followed her through the recon-scope. She was gasping for air and crying and clutching at her head in obvious pain, but she continued to rush straight for the temple.
Rael's voice rang out. “Tristen!"
Laynald looked up from the scope to locate him, half way down the gangplank, racing toward her. “Stop! Tristen!"
She reached the building and stumbled again, this time careening onto the small stairway, stunning herself just long enough for Rael catch up. His momentum sent them both crashing headlong through the doorway and onto the floor of the little pagoda. A pillar of light erupted from the altar, and above, the sky ripped open, and three glimmering figures materialized before them.
Laynald gasped as he recognized them. They were the Oracles from Tristen's world. A holographic receiver, he decided, but then one of them reached down and helped Rael lift Tristen from the floor. “No,” Laynald whispered. “It's a matter transporter.” He picked up a twig and tossed it toward the building. A shield deflected it, unnoticed. Where is Ira? he wondered. If he can reach her maybe she'll snap out of it. He left the tiny recon-scope recording the building and made his way toward the ship. Nearing it, he was relieved to finally hear familiar voices from within.
Mallory half dragged, half walked Ira through the ship's open door and down the gangplank. “Where have you been?” he asked as he noticed Laynald. “You've got to help me with Ira. We have to catch up with Tristen before.... “He looked on helplessly at the glowing temple where Tristen knelt before the triad of robed men. Rael stood arguing with them. Little one? he called out to her.
“Nooo!” Ira, weaving in and out of consciousness, struggled to escape Mallory's grip. Breaking free, he lunged forward toward the building. Tristen!
She turned her head toward him and shook it. It is time.
Her anguish ripped through his mind.
They have come for me, Ira. And Rael was the target. They wanted him, not Harbringer. I did not know. I am sorry.
Ira raced and stumbled toward her. By the temple's steps, he felt the tingle of force fields barring his way. Tell them to let me in, he demanded, let me join you!
Tears rolling down her face, Tristen closed her eyes. No. You can be safe here once I am gone.
Ira threw himself against the shields.
Tristen collapsed.
One of the Oracles reached down and touched her. Both Tristen and Ira stirred. “They are bound together,” he stated flatly. The shimmering barrier dissolved. Laynald and Mallory rushed forward to help Ira through the threshold to Tristen's side.
Laynald sized up the Oracles as he ministered to Tristen and Ira's wounds. In between injecting stimulants and applying disinfectants, he managed to catch Rael's attention. Rael signaled for him to stand ready with his darts instead of pressing an attack on the Oracles. Laynald frowned and turned his full attention to reviving Tristen. When she responded quicker than he had expected, he leaned down and whispered, “What have you done, girl?"
My duty. Her eyes filled with tears. But you must stop Ira from following me.
Laynald shook his head. “It is too late for that. You are both in this now, so get your head together and help us.” He watched her struggle to regain her composure.
Closing her eyes, she began taking slow deep breaths—just as he'd seen Ira do a thousand times before. Within seconds, Ira reciprocated, his chest rising and falling in unison with hers.
She reached over and brushed raven hair away from his eyes, running her hand along the contours of his face. Their eyes fluttered open. Draw strength from me, my love, she told him. I don't know how, but I want us to stay together. Tell me what to do.
Ira reached up and gently took her hand in his. Help me up. They rose from the floor together. As they stepped forward, they continued breathing, blinking and even moving in unison, but it was Ira's gait they used and Ira's voice that addressed the Triad. “Your needs have been met,” he began, reaching out with his mind to further emphasize the words and gain access to the mind of the Oracle nearest to them. A hollow nothingness met his touch. Ira choked back an unfamiliar surge of fear from Tristen, then pressed forward, checking the other two men as well—again nothing. Drawing himself to full height, he stepped forward to loom over them as he continued. “I petition on behalf of the Chosen for release from your service."
The first Oracle smiled up at him. “Petition denied.” A containment field activated with a hiss, encompassing everyone but the Triad and Rael.
“Wait,” Ira called out, but the three turned away.
Rael circled away from where his team members stood, positioning the Oracles between him and them—just in case an opportunity arose. “As I understand it,” Rael began, “I'm your target, and she delivered me to you, so her part is done now. Set her free."
“Not possible; she serves us still. But it is you who we need to assess here,” the closest of the three stated.
“What did Harbringer tell you?” the next one asked.
Rael paused long enough to wonder how three balding old men in shiny robes could possibly look so much alike—and be so much trouble. “Nothing, I refused his explanations."
“Why?"
Rael rolled his eyes and stared at them. “Because I hated him beyond all reason."
“The Chosen One reports that you ordered his death. Is this so?"
“Yes,” Rael answered, “but I am an agent of the Law authorized to make such decisions."
“He was not of your realm; he performed a necessary duty."
“As do I. Perhaps you should consider speaking to my superiors. The Universal Government should, after all, hear your side of this.” Rael's temples flickered almost imperceptibly in the room's lighting as he attempted to locate a terminal—any terminal near enough to tap into. I sure would like to find the control panel to that altar-teleporter.
All three of the Oracles smiled. “Now, if you've satisfied your curiosity, we would like to discuss your future."
Rael sighed and motioned them to continue.
“The one you ordered killed, Harbringer, was Chosen centuries ago to stabilize our world's economy. He very successfully accomplished this, but realized that extraterrestrial commerce would inevitably disrupt his design for our world, so we allowed him to extend his works to realms beyond ours—as a preemptive measure.
“He was charged with bringing order t
o universal chaos and has been working to stabilize your system for centuries. His labors insured your government's prosperity, but he found himself isolated, apart from his creations and therefore unable to fully complete his design. What needs to be done now requires a more personal involvement, an infusion of sorts, and so you were designed, Chosen One—as his replacement."
Rael choked back a creeping horror. “But my mother..."
“Chosen for her aptitudes, intellect, strength of will; she had no family to interfere; she was strong, healthy, well placed. Your conception was controlled; your link implants are unique. His genetics enhanced your abilities. You were placed with a woman of power, standing and high moral ethics. Her career was guided, and she fostered yours, as was the development of your team. Finally, another was Chosen to retrieve you.” The Oracle glanced toward Tristen. “She further enhances your team, and now that your government's structure is weakened, everything is in its proper place."
“Who are you people?” Rael struggled to stay calm. So much depended on how he handled this. He looked toward his people. Ira and Tristen seemed to be holding each other up. Their fear was real enough. She told me she had a mission, that she was chosen. Laynald, too, seemed pretty intent on what the Triad had said. Laynald believes them, too, and Mallory was the perfect person to draw us together. How is this possible?
“This is why Mahata was killed?” Rael realized aloud as all the pieces spiraled firmly into place.
“Yes. You have now inherited Harbringer's life's work, his entire empire. Every aspect of it is completely at your command. You will now guide the universe as you see fit. And you will do well, just as we have foreseen."
Rael shook his head in disbelief. “This is ludicrous. What makes you think I won't just hunt down your planet and blow it out of the universe? It has been known to happen before, you know."
