Mind Games

Chapter 2 – Duty Calls

Chapter 2 – Duty Calls

Sergeant Jerry Harper was awakened by the beeping of his military-issue wrist comm. He groaned and opened his eyes. He'd been having a good dream, too—a rarity for him. Most of his dreams during the past nine years had been war-related nightmares. He rolled over in bed, fumbled around on his nightstand, and grabbed the comm. “Hello?”

“Harper,” a familiar voice said. “You need to report in today. I'll brief you when you arrive.”

It took Jerry a moment to pin a name to the voice. “General Gardener?”

“Of course. Who did you think it was? Now, did you hear me? You're ordered to report in. Fort Chapman. Rifle Intelligence building. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir.” Jerry sat up, rubbed his eyes, and yawned.

“Good.” Gardener ended the call.

Jerry tossed his comm back on the nightstand and scratched his head. During the war, he was accustomed to orders trickling down to him through the chain of command. Generals didn't call sergeants directly except in cases of unusual circumstances, but Jerry couldn't for the life of him figure out what that could be. The situation with Brandon had concluded a few weeks ago. His old friend was now in a safe house on Homestead, and, as far as he knew, diplomatic relations with Skytower had more-or-less settled down. Jerry and Brandon were both still activated, technically, but the Volunteer Rifles should have discharged them by now and allowed them to return to their civilian lives. What was going on, and what could the military want with him?

He got out of bed and staggered towards the bathroom. Whatever they wanted, he was sure he wouldn't like it.

* * *

Jerry knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

He opened it and entered. “Sergeant Gerald Wayland Harper reporting in, sir, as ordered.”

General Vernon Gardener sat behind his desk. He waved a hand at the empty chair facing him. “Have a seat, Harper.”

Jerry sat and glanced around. It was Colonel Glover's old office. Gardener had apparently taken it over. There were framed photos of him on the wall, most of which showed him on various boats holding large fish. There were a few fish mounted on the walls, too, including an enormous swordfish directly behind him. The man was serious about his hobby. The only pieces of non-fish décor were his diploma from Homestead Military Academy—with gold valedictorian's seal—and his officer's commission certificate.

Gardener leaned back and clasped his hands over his belly. “First, let's get one thing clear. This won't be like your last visit here. No one's been kidnapped. You're not here for any kind of rescue mission. In fact, I don't expect you to be in harm's way at all. So don't worry, and try to relax.”

Jerry exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. “Thank you, sir. That takes a load off my mind.”

“I figured it would. Now that that's out of the way, let's get down to business. Have you been keeping up with the news?”

“No, sir. When I got back, I wanted to forget about... well, everything. I tried to lose myself in my job and my band. I've been trying to avoid everything 'off-world,' if you take my meaning, sir.”

“Understandable. You had a rough go of it on Skytower. But now you need to catch up, so I'll fill you in. The incident between the Commonwealth and the Hierarchy was serious, and neither side is ready to simply forgive and forget. We're still upset with them for the way they treated Brandon Woods. They tortured a Commonwealth civilian, after all, and our government doesn't take kindly to stuff like that. There's also the matter of their tanks firing on the Warhammer at the spaceport, and then the resulting space battle. Needless to say, the Commonwealth government isn't pleased, and our own Ealdorman Brewer is still steaming over it. He doesn't let his feelings show, of course, but I've known him for a while, and I can tell.

“As for the Paragons, well, we destroyed a pair of their frigates and basically started a civil war among the Seagate coalitions. They feel like their coalition war is our fault, and they want payback. They're only partially right—their coalitions do this sort of thing all on their own anyway, and they hardly need us to provide a spark—but they have enough of a point for it to matter on the political scene. Personally, I think the Hierarchy had all this coming, and more, for torturing a man like they did. That's not just my opinion, either. Ealdorman Brewer feels the same way, and so does the Commonwealth government. President Farmer hasn't officially spoken out yet—he's not convinced this issue is bigger than Homestead, so he's reluctant to get the entire Commonwealth involved—but he's more or less in agreement with us.

“So we're basically in a stalemate. Our diplomats are frustrated, and I'm sure their counterparts in the Hierarchy feel the same way. Neither side wants to bend, and that makes talking kind of pointless. But there are more than just two Breeds in the Wheel of Fire, and the Mentarchy has been paying attention. The Reliants have volunteered to step in as mediators. They've invited representatives from both sides to meet on neutral ground. Their idea is for the peace talks to happen in Locus on Cortex. Their hope is that we can work out this incident in a way that doesn't involve starting a new war. The Claim War wasn't that long ago, and no one wants to jump back into conflict if it can be prevented.”

Jerry nodded. “Sounds reasonable, I guess, sir.”

“Brewer thought so, too. He's personally going to Cortex, along with Auxiliary-General Mary Coldstone. We're sending some firepower, too. A Navy battle group. President Farmer hasn't officially thrown the Commonwealth into this thing, like I said, but he was gracious enough to loan us A.C.S. Sunfire and its associated ships.”

Jerry gave a low whistle. “The Sunfire, sir? That's, uh, a bold choice to send to a Reliant planet, given its namesake's history.”

“That's the point, Harper. We're not screwing around here. We don't expect trouble from the Reliants, but we want them to understand we mean business, too. Their Mentarch can't possibly miss the hint.”

“How do you think they'll react, sir?”

Gardener waved a hand dismissively. “They might get their backs up a little, but they won't do anything to start a war. That's the whole purpose of this meeting, after all—to prevent any further violence. But we want to make it clear that we're not just going to roll over for whatever the Paragons demand. That's why we're sending a battlecruiser. And not just any battlecruiser, but the one named for an Agrarian planet where the Reliants committed some of their worst atrocities. It's also why we're sending heavy hitters like the Ealdorman and the Auxiliary-General to make our case. And it's why we're sending you and Corporal Woods, too.”

Jerry blinked. “Sir?”

“You heard me, Sergeant. You're going to Cortex.”

“Sir, I'll do my duty, of course, and I'll go wherever the Rifles send me. But I don't understand. I'm not a diplomat. I'm just a Rifleman. Not even that anymore, really, since my activation was only for the rescue mission. Other than that, I've been out for nine years, and now I'm just a landscaper and a banjo picker. How could I possibly be of any use on Cortex?”

“You're going to testify.”

Jerry's brows shot up. “Testify, sir?”

“That's right.” Gardener leaned forward and put his forearms on the desk. “You're going to go into that room, in front of representatives from all four Breeds, and you're going to provide eyewitness testimony to back up our government's accusations against the Hierarchy. Woods will do the same. He's the central character in this whole business, after all. He'll tell the whole galaxy about how he was kidnapped and tortured. And you will confirm that he was in rough shape when you broke him out of that cell in Bay Point Redoubt.”

“Yes, sir.” Jerry swallowed. “Breeder help me.”

Gardener chuckled. “Relax, Sergeant. It won't be that bad. Just answer the questions truthfully.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And don't reveal any classified information.”

“Yes, sir.” He started sorting through everything, trying to figure out what he could say and what he couldn't. It all quickly became a jumbled mess in his brain.

“And don't start any fights or break any laws or otherwise get yourself in trouble while you're there.”

Jerry nodded. His head was spinning.

“So there's nothing to it. You'll be fine.”

“Yes, sir.” He felt anything but fine.

Gardener frowned. “You seem worried, so let me ease your mind a little. I know you're eager to put all this behind you and get back to your civilian life. The Ealdorman knows this, too, and he's willing to give you what you want. Once these peace talks are concluded, you'll be deactivated permanently. You'll be free to go back to your life of mowing lawns and playing music in bars.”

“Really, sir? That would be great.”

“That's right. No strings attached. Do this job, and we'll let you out. That's the deal. Now, unless you have any questions...”

Jerry shook his head. “No, sir.”

“Good. Then you'll receive your official deployment orders soon. Dismissed.”

* * *

Jerry spent the night before his deployment packing and getting his affairs in order. His landlady, Miss Carpenter, had agreed to hold his place for him, so he'd still have a home when he returned. The government hired a landscaping outfit to pick up the slack for his clients while he was gone. And his bandmates were sympathetic to his dilemma. They decided a break from performing wasn't such a bad idea, and maybe they could get some songwriting done during the pause. Jerry hated not being part of that, but he was also eager to see what they came up with. Maybe he could collaborate with them via cross-space communications while he was off-world.

He tried to remember what season it was in Locus. The city was in a mountain valley, and usually cool or cold, so he had packed winter clothes. But had the snows fallen yet? He couldn't recall. If so, then he might need to purchase some ice cleats.

He sighed. Worrying was pointless. The military would issue him whatever he needed. For some reason, though, he couldn't stop his mind from racing through all the things that might go wrong. He stuffed a pair of socks into his bag. “Just do what you're told,” he mumbled to himself. “Don't think too much.”

“Always good advice.”

Jerry gasped and spun around.

Master Senzon sat on his chest-of-drawers. His hands were clasped in his lap, and he swung his legs back and forth, causing them to periodically disappear into the furniture. He wore the dull gray tunic and trousers of the Reliants of the Mentarchy.

“Stop doing that!” Jerry sat on his bed and ran his hands through his hair. “You really are going to give me a heart attack one day. Can't you just walk up from a distance or something so I can see you coming? Would that really be so hard?”

Senzon didn't seem to hear. “I don't think you should go to these peace talks. In fact, I think you should avoid Cortex altogether.”

Jerry snorted. “You said the same thing about Skytower. 'Don't go to Skytower... don't go to Skytower.' Now it's 'Don't go to Cortex.' Is there anywhere I can go? Or am I just supposed to cower in my home for the rest of my life?”

“Home is where the heart is. There are worse places to cower.”

“Yeah, well, this mission is my ticket out of the Rifles for good, so I'm going.”

Senzon sighed. “Figures. You never listen. Breeder's whiskers, boy. Trying to get you to do anything is like having a tooth pulled without anesthesia.”

“There's a reason for that, you old goat. You told me I was going to destroy the whole Wheel of Fire. Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? A man can't destroy a galaxy. And even if I could, which I can't, I don't want to destroy the galaxy. I happen to live here, you know. And I'd certainly never destroy Homestead, land oath or no land oath.”

“Colonel Glover swore a land oath, too. Didn't stop him from betraying Homestead.”

Jerry c****d his head to one side. “Yeah, what's the deal with that? Were you ever going to explain it to me?”

“Sure. I've been talking to some other Masters, and I think I've got the gist of it. The land oath has a metaphysical component, and a Master is needed to sever that part of it. You already knew that from what Glover said right before that Felid killed him. But having a Master around is not enough. The oath taker also has to be willing to permanently forsake his home world. That's the only way breaking the oath is possible. Glover loved his wife more than anything, and that love was enough to get him over the psychological hurdle.” Senzon grunted. “I guess the poets were right. Love really is the most powerful force in the universe.”

“Well, I don't have a wife or girlfriend. And even if I did, I'm not forsaking Homestead. That's for sure. The idea is ridiculous on its face. So when you say I'm going to destroy the Wheel, well, that's the kind of talk that earns a mortal man a ticket to Stonefell Asylum, you know? You're a ghost, so you don't really have to worry about being committed, but still. You've got some cracks in the old cranial vault.”

Senzon frowned. “It's not just the Wheel of Fire that's at stake. The prophecy mentioned you destroying the Masters, too. You think I'm looking forward to that? I'm a Master, in case you forgot. And I don't want to die. But if it's inevitable, and I believe it is, then I want to manage the process as best I can along the way. You should have the same attitude.”

“Well, I don't. I'm not a Fenysist, and I'm not some 'bringer of the eschaton,' or whatever. So buzz off.”

Senzon shook his head. “The things I put up with... Fine. Go to Cortex, boy. Put yourself in the heart of the Mentarchy and hope for the best. See if I care. But you can at least try to prepare for the worst. Have you been practicing your gift?”

“No.”

Senzon cringed. “Not even a little?”

“Nope. I haven't tried any electrokinesis since I was in space over Skytower.”

“That's appalling. I'm really, really disappointed.”

Jerry shook a finger at him. “I nearly killed myself when I messed with those frigates. Kajora said I had some kind of weird chemical imbalance. Even she wasn't sure what was wrong with me. I still wonder if I did any permanent damage to myself. Maybe I did, and maybe the next time will be the time that kills me. I'm not going to risk that. No way.”

Senzon's mouth tightened into a gash, but then he nodded. “At least keep your eyes open. Can you do that, boy? Can you try to keep your wits about you while you're on Cortex?”

“Of course. I'm not an idiot.”

He grunted. “Says you. Well, it's a start, I guess. And a necessity. Something's not right there. Something's going on in Locus.”

“Here we go again...”

“Hush. This is serious. I'm serious. I'm not sure what it is, exactly. It's kind of hazy, and that's always a bad sign. It means some Master or other is masking something. But there's more to this thing than just peace talks, I can promise you that. Plots and undercurrents and whatnot. So stay focused, and stay alert.”

Jerry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I'll be careful.”

“Good. Then that's good enough for now, I guess. I'll talk to you again before you get there.” He disappeared.

Jerry stared at the empty space where Senzon had been. On the one hand, the man was an annoyance. On the other hand... As frustrating and boorish as he was, he had been right about Skytower. It had been a trap. And now the old nag was suspicious about Cortex. Jerry decided he'd be a fool to ignore his warning.

He thought back to the vision Senzon had shown him with the Second Sight. It had intruded into his thoughts many times in the days since. The windowless stone room, the shining node, the Masters, the Reliants... and then everything had gone horribly wrong. The bright white node had fallen and turned black, the Masters all fell over dead, and Fenys had chanted his final words.

Jerry shivered. The worst part of the vision was the node. There was an evilness there, an unearthly horror that he couldn't understand but could sense in his blood and his bones. That thing had been at the center of the prophecy, and now Jerry Harper was, too, a man fated to destroy the galaxy. Assuming Senzon was right, that is.

He shook his head and forced a weak chuckle. Senzon may have been right about Skytower, but he was still a nut. That prophecy stuff couldn't possibly be true. It was all nonsense. Jerry certainly wasn't any “Destroyer.” He'd go to Cortex, do his job, and come home. And that would be the end of it.

But he'd keep his eyes open anyway. It never hurt to be cautious. He stood and resumed packing.