Mind Games

Chapter 3 – Masters of Conspiracy

Chapter 3 – Masters of Conspiracy

Master Keleusyn paced. Sort of. His feet didn't actually make contact with the floor's stones, of course. But he liked to pretend sometimes that his body could still interact with the physical world. It helped “center” him in a way so that his mind could focus on other things. And the windowless room of tan stone wasn't always the easiest place to focus, especially with that terrible altar. He sniffed. The grays thought they were so much more civilized than the other Breeds, but they were just as barbaric. They simply expressed their barbarism in a different way.

One of those gray barbarians knelt on the floor a few feet away. Proxy Taithoch was the speaker for the Mentarch, a human “leader” for an empire that suffered no human leaders or hierarchies. His gray hair, like every other Reliant's of the Mentarchy, was cut in just the right style and length so as to be neither masculine nor feminine. He wore the same dull gray tunic and trousers as everyone else. Equivalency, Conformity, Indistinction—it wasn't just a government slogan. The grays of the Mentarchy fervently believed it and lived it. The only thing marking the Proxy out as different from the rest was the chain around his neck indicating he spoke for the Mentarch. At the moment, part of that chain lay draped on the floor. Taithoch's forehead and palms were pressed to the stone in a groveling manner.

Keleusyn was disgusted by it, but he also never got tired of it. The grays were fascinating from a purely scientific perspective. They were more like dogs than humans, really. How little did a man have to think of his own worth in order to simper like that? It was a completely alien way of thinking, especially for Keleusyn, a former Tier 1 Paragon. That, he supposed, was what made the grays so revoltingly interesting.

Several feet away from both men stood a half-buried crystalline thing. It rose to about three feet above the floor, and was completely black, except for red sparks dancing in its interior. The paving stones of the floor around it were cracked and slightly raised in places, centuries-old damage taken from when the node drilled itself down.

Keleusyn gave it a wary look every now and then. He couldn't see it without thinking of the prophecy. He wasn't a believer in it, but it disturbed him nonetheless. Some Masters did believe it, and they could do some serious harm if allowed to act on that belief. Especially now that the Wheelstone was... He truncated that thought with a grimace. It all came back to those Agrarian soldiers. He never would have guessed a pair of sodbusters could cause so much trouble, but, well, there he was, pacing furrows in the stones like some hand-wringing ninny. He frowned at that thought, stopped pacing, and sat on the floor. He looked at Taithoch and altered the timbre of his voice, employing his Suasion. “I'm thinking too hard. Life wasn't meant for thinking. It was meant for joy, and mine is disturbed. I need to find my bliss again.”

The Suasion washed over Taithoch's mind like an ocean wave, and he trembled. “I would be honored to help in whatever small way I can, O Lord Master Keleusyn.” He raised his face slightly. “Instruct me, O Lord Master, so that I may better carry out the Mentarch's will.”

“No instructions at the moment.” Keleusyn sniffed. “The vibrations are hard to read. Could be Senzon again. Or one of his allies. Or maybe it's just the difficulty of watching Agrarians. They've always been hard for me to examine for any length of time. All that dirt they play in, I suppose. Muddies the waters.” He chuckled at his pun.

Taithoch either didn't get it or didn't find it funny. He lowered his face again. “As you say, O Lord Master.”

“Luckily, our target list has been narrowed considerably. Yes... Brandon Woods and Jerry Harper. One of them is the one the Fenysists think is the Destroyer. Bunch of nonsense, that. No man can destroy a galaxy. It's preposterous. But the electrokinesis part is real, and it must be dealt with. It's almost certainly Harper, but no sense taking chances. We'll deal with both. And maybe we'll do something political, too. We'll see. But, either way, prophecy or no prophecy, Woods and Harper must be neutralized.” Keleusyn lay back on the floor and clasped his hands behind his head. “So it's a good thing they're both on their way here, right, Taithoch?”

“The Lord Master is as wise and cunning as ever.”

Keleusyn grinned at the ceiling. “I really am, aren't I?”

* * *

Master Corastyth concentrated on masking herself and listening. It was difficult—she was completely inside a stone wall—but the vibrations proved to be just strong enough for her to decipher them. Keleusyn's voice was dim and muffled, and most Masters wouldn't have been able to eavesdrop on him like that. They would have had to have been in the same room, or used the Second Sight, or listened in some other way that would have betrayed the listener's presence.

Corastyth wasn't like most Masters.

She had been a Felid once. Not just any Felid, either, but a Calishul, a priestess of a long-dead religious sect.

A quirk of the Felid genetic code was the Felids' heightened sensitivity; they could see better, hear better, and generally experience the world in a fuller way than the other Breeds. For some rare Felids, that sensitivity included a sort of sixth sense. The Calishul had dedicated themselves to exploring that sixth sense, and the experienced among them could actually feel the Luminiferous Plane, the realm of the Masters. They couldn't go there, of course, or touch it or see it, but they were aware of it in a way no other Breed could be.

Corastyth hadn't been eager to become a Master. She had felt the Plane, but leaving the material world behind had been a daunting prospect. She sometimes still wondered if she made the right choice. This was one of those times. The Masters' constant meddling and maneuvering in the affairs of flesh-and-blood humans was distasteful. It wasn't the sort of enlightenment she had hoped to experience when she ascended. And it certainly wasn't the sort of beneficent wisdom that, in her opinion, the Masters had been purposed to bestow upon the people of the galaxy in the first place.

Keleusyn's voice stopped, and there was a shuffling sound. It must have been Proxy Taithoch leaving the room, which meant the meeting was over. Corastyth listened for another few moments just to be sure. When she was satisfied the two had gone their separate ways, she sent out a psychic call through the Luminiferous Plane, and then disappeared.

She materialized in the woods on another planet. The forest floor was covered with dead leaves and pine straw, and there were thorny vines and thick underbrush everywhere. The air was full of the sounds of insects and birds, though their racket abated for a few moments when she appeared. The creatures couldn't see her unless she wanted them them to, but they could sense her arrival somehow. Some disturbance in the local electromagnetic spectrum, she supposed. When no danger presented itself, nature resumed its calls and whistles and buzzes.

She walked over to a half-buried boulder and sat upon it. She traced a line on it with her finger. It wasn't actually a boulder. It was a carved stone, and all that remained of the Calishul Temple. A once-thriving religion was now nothing more than a ruin hidden in the wilderness. It was a familiar story. Even the mightiest things couldn't withstand the ravages of time, and what seemed permanent one day might be consigned to oblivion the next. She wondered if anything ever truly lasted.

A voice broke her reverie. “You wanted to talk?”

She looked up. Senzon approached her, the underbrush passing through his immaterial body as if he was some story-book ghost. A part of her wanted to shift away, to do whatever it took to avoid hearing what he had to say. She mentally scolded that part. It was girlish and cowardly, and now was the time for a stout heart.

Senzon stopped a few feet away and looked at the stone. “Thinking about your old friends?”

Corastyth nodded. “I miss them terribly.”

“It's not good to think about them. Not right now.”

“I know.”

“You're not a Calishul anymore. You know that, but knowing's not enough. You have to believe it, really and truly in your heart. You have to convince yourself of it. If you can't, then it might screw everything up.”

“I know.” She sighed and looked up at him. “I'm trying. I really am. And I know what I have to do.”

“Then you know you have to do it very soon. Three days of cross-space travel. Then the peace talks start.”

“I'll be ready.” Her lips twisted at the thought of what she had to do. “I'll make contact when the time comes. I'll hate myself for it, but I'll do it.”

“Have you learned anything more from Keleusyn?”

“Yes. That's why I'm here, and it's why I called you. He's definitely planning something. There's a trap of some sort waiting for Woods and Harper. I still don't know any details, though. It's not easy eavesdropping through solid rock.”

“If I could do it, I would. But I can't. You're the only one I know who can, so you're the one I need.”

“I know.” She gave him a sad smile. “It must be lonely being you. Having everyone think you've gone mad.”

He shrugged. “Sometimes. And sometimes it helps. It makes people underestimate me.” He chuckled. “And I probably am crazy, at least a little. But I've always valued the truth above my own vanity, so there you go.”

She turned back to the stone and traced the line again. It had been a letter once, but the elements had eroded it, making it illegible. She still remembered the temple at the height of its glory, and the contrast stabbed deep into her soul. Nevertheless, she kept coming back, tracing that line, making her own heart ache with the thought of old friends long gone. It couldn't be good for her mental state, yet she couldn't resist. Strange, that.

“Anyway,” Senzon said, “you know what to do. Good luck meeting with him.” He gave her a sympathetic look. “I mean that. I'd help if I could, but you're the one he needs to see, not me.”

“I'll do my best.”

Senzon nodded, and then disappeared.

Corastyth sighed and looked around. Other than the stone, there was no indication a temple had ever been there. As far as she knew, she was the only Calishul who had ever become a Master. She was the last of her sect, the only thing left in the Wheel of her religion. It was one of the galaxy's many tragic stories. Humans, it seemed, never tired of producing such stories.

She set her jaw with newfound determination and ran her tongue over the tips of her fangs. She couldn't change the past... but she could still affect the future.

She sat there for a long time, thinking of the old days and wondering if they had adequately prepared her for the galactic firestorm she feared was to come.

* * *

Jerry parked his car in the lot next to Fort Chapman's capital-ship landing pad. He removed his bag from the trunk and set out on foot towards the pad. Once again, he was back in uniform and preparing to board a military vessel. This time, though, he wouldn't be sneaking out with a handful of people on a corvette. Today's departure was a much bigger deal, and the sight in front of him was something of a spectacle.

A.C.S. Sunfire, a capital ship of the Agrarian Commonwealth Navy, sat on its massive landing struts in the middle of the heavily reinforced concrete pad. It was a full-sized battlecruiser, the Navy's newest, constructed after the Claim War. It shone like polished quartz in the sunlight, and it had graceful curves that were a satisfying mix of sleek and deadly. Every side of the vessel was studded with guns of various sizes. Its loading ramps were down, and men and women and gravlifts poured in and out, taking on provisions and equipment and performing various other chores. The Navy men, or “vacs” as the infantry called them, seemed to have an extra spring in their steps, undoubtedly due to enthusiasm for their shiny new ship.

Jerry noticed a small crowd of Riflemen, Auxilians, and civilians near the battlecruiser, and he headed towards them.

“Hey, Sergeant!” yelled a familiar voice.

Jerry grinned and quickened his pace.

A gorgeous young Paragon woman stepped out from the crowd and waved. Her lustrous white hair shone even brighter than the Sunfire, and her copper-colored skin glistened with beads of sweat in the summer heat. Her white eyes sparkled like diamonds. She wore a modest Agrarian dress, typical attire for Homestead, but she still managed to fill it out in a way that captured every male eye.

“Irylia?” Jerry asked. “What are you doing here?” He dropped his bag and gave her a hug. “I didn't know you were coming with us.”

“I'm not.” Irylia grinned. “I just thought I'd see everyone off. I've got responsibilities here now, love. I can't just go running off to other planets willy-nilly.”

“Well, I'm glad you're here. It's nice to see a friendly face before heading upstairs.” His brow furrowed. “Wait a minute. Responsibilities? What responsibilities? What are you talking about?”

“I sold all my businesses on Skytower. Didn't Miss Carpenter tell you?”

“No, she didn't.” Jerry frowned. It wasn't like his landlady to not tell him something.

“Yeah, she's been great. Who'd have thought, right? A Reliant and a Paragon working together without any Suasion involved.” Irylia laughed. “I actually thought about trying it. I'd be lying if I said I didn't. It's in my nature, you know? But I knew you'd be upset if I did. And I didn't want to make my favorite sodbuster angry.”

“I appreciate that. Miss Carpenter means the world to me. So, uh, what are you two up to?”

“Oh, right. She's helping me get settled business-wise. I'm investing in the local economy.”

“Oh.” Jerry wasn't sure how to react to that. He wondered how well her business sense would transfer from Paragon Seagate to Agrarian Stonefell County. It would be a major adjustment for her. But she was clever and resourceful, and he wouldn't bet against her.

“Your friend's already here.” Irylia jerked her head towards the crowd. “He's yukking it up with those Volunteer Rifles.”

Jerry looked. Brandon Woods stood among a small crowd of uniformed infantry, apparently telling some story or other. Jerry had seen it before. Whenever Brandon started telling some whopper, he liked to gesture a lot for emphasis. The occasional glint of his mechanical hands told Jerry the man was spinning a yarn. It would all be true, of course—Brandon wasn't a liar—but certain points would be embellished, and other, less-flattering details would be left out.

“I tried to cheer him up a little,” Irylia said. “I told him his new hands looked sexy. I don't think I convinced him, though. It's too bad. He seems like a nice fellow. Just a a lot of sadness inside, you know?”

“He's been through a lot. I imagine it'll take him a while to get over everything. If he ever does at all.”

“Sergeant Harper?” asked a new voice.

Jerry turned. A man close to his own age was there, looking at him with questioning eyes. He wore a Rifleman's uniform and bore the rank of captain. The name “Riverside” was stitched on his breast. Jerry came to attention and saluted. “Sergeant Gerald Wayland Harper, sir.”

Riverside returned the salute. “At ease, Sergeant. I'm Dean Riverside, captain of the Stonefell Guards.”

“Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Riverside's mouth tightened sightly. “You're a survivor of Third Blackshoals, correct?”

“That's right, sir.”

“You were in Lieutenant Harold Boatwright's platoon?”

Jerry blinked. He hadn't heard that name in a while. “That's right, sir. Did you know him?”

“He was my second cousin on my mother's side.”

“He was a fine officer, sir, and a good man. I'm sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, Sergeant.” Riverside's expression softened. “He was a few years older, and we only saw each other a few times at family get-togethers. But we always got along. He was gracious enough to entertain a young brat like me.” He grinned, but it quickly faded. “My mother was heartbroken when she heard about his death on Blackshoals. She and her cousin were close. She was in the delivery room when Harry was born.”

Jerry wasn't surprised. It was a typical story. Homestead Volunteer Rifle companies were organized by county, and almost everyone in 3rd Regiment, Company D, the “Stonefell Guards,” was related, closely or distantly, to everyone else. If he did enough digging into his family tree, Jerry would probably discover he and Riverside were fifth cousins twice removed or something.

“If you can...” Riverside winced. “How did he die? I know it's a terrible question, but I can't get it out of my mind.”

“Honestly, sir, I don't know.” Jerry gave him an apologetic look. “I was ordered into the citadel, and I was still in there when the battle ended. I can't testify to anything that happened outside during that time.”

“I understand. And maybe it's for the best that I don't know. For a long time, I've felt like I had something to prove, and I think Harry's death is the reason. Maybe it's the mystery that drives me, you know?” He cleared his throat. “You might be interested to know that the Stonefell Guards are deploying on the Sunfire. We'll be the ship's infantry detachment for this mission. We were chosen for symbolic reasons relating to you and Corporal Woods, but I've reminded the men that this isn't just a sightseeing cruise for an honor guard. They need to be ready to fight as if this was a time of war. Because frankly, there's no telling what might happen in situations like this.”

“That sounds like wise advice, sir.”

Riverside glanced to his side. “I think some friends of yours are waiting to greet you, so I'll leave you to them. See you aboard, Harper.”

“Yes, sir.”

Riverside walked away.

“Handsome fellow,” Irylia said, eyeing the retreating man's backside.

Jerry chuckled. “You really are insatiable, you know that?”

“Aw, Jerr-bear. That's the nicest thing I've heard all day.” She grabbed his face, pulled it down to hers, and gave him a passionate, open-mouthed kiss. After a moment, she broke away with an audible smack and giggled. “I see Shariel coming over here, so I think I'll wander off. See you when you get back, love.” She slapped him on the butt and scurried away.

Jerry gasped for air and tried to settle his racing heart.

“I see the Paragon hussy found you already.” Shariel Veruseven of Clan Veruseven stopped in front of him and put her hands on her hips. She was resplendent in full clan regalia. She wore the traditional tan pantaloons, stuffed into gleaming black leather boots that reached almost to her knees. Her white blouse was high-necked and short-sleeved, showing off wiry orange-skinned arms, and it was tucked into a wide brown leather belt. Her orange hair was cut short in the military style, so it didn't need to be tied back in any way, but she still wore the traditional braided leather cord around her head. Where it crossed the center of her forehead, the cord bore a steel jewel fashioned into her clan's insignia. At her side, in an elegant sheath of handmade Felid manufacture, hung her Chevalloy sword. She looked every bit the clan chieftain's daughter.

Jerry offered her his hand. “Nice to see you again, Shariel.”

She shook his hand and smiled. “Thank you, Jerry. It's good to see you, too.” She glanced at the retreating figure of Irylia and grimaced. “Horrible woman. I'm quite glad she's not coming with us. That battlecruiser isn't big enough for both of us. She's just so... depraved. Just like the rest of her Breed.”

“Your ways are not their ways,” said a new voice, “as I've reminded you before.”

Jerry and Shariel both turned. A woman in the white dress uniform of the Homestead Ladies' Auxiliary approached. A captain by rank, she was also a Reliant, and she had her Breed's usual gray skin and hair and completely black eyes. Unlike others of her Breed, she wasn't androgynous. Her feminine shape betrayed her as sexually dimorphous, a mutant, an anomaly... a Morph.

“'Their ways.'” Shariel sighed loudly. “I know, I know. I'm not ignorant about Paragon customs, Kajora. I'm simply being judgmental. There's a difference.”

“Hey, doc,” Jerry said, offering his hand. “Good to see you again.”

Kajora shook it. “Likewise, Sergeant. I've been keeping tabs on your medical file. It seems you've mostly recovered from our Skytower mission. I'm glad.”

He grunted. “Yeah, it looks like I'm going to live. You played a big part in that, though. I owe you a lot.”

“Just doing my job.”

“I really appreciate the two of you coming here just to see me off.” Jerry gave each of them a smile. “It's very thoughtful of you.”

“See you off?” Shariel shook her head. “We're going with you.”

Jerry's eyebrows rose. “You what?”

“Yes. I requested it as a favor, and your Ealdorman agreed.” Shariel raised her head slightly, and there was a proud look on her face. “There will be a Felid delegation at the peace talks, and a few clan chieftains will be there. It's the perfect opportunity for me to try to get them on board with my federation idea. I think arriving on the Sunfire will impress them. That's my hope, anyway.”

“And I asked to go for personal reasons.” Kajora's gray cheeks darkened slightly. “It's my old home, you know. I was born and raised in Locus. When my figure began to develop, and the Mentarch cut me off...” She cleared her throat. “Let's just say that I have some psychological issues I'd like to try to work through. I think going back there might help me to do that. These peace talks seemed as good a time as any to return, especially since it means I'd have so many people there to protect me. I asked the Ealdorman for the favor, and he granted it without hesitation. I suppose I must have impressed him somehow.”

“Somehow?” Jerry asked. “You saved my life more than once. And Brandon's. Come on. Admit it. You're impressive.”

She mumbled something unintelligible and gave him an embarrassed nod.

He was glad she was going, but he also wished there was a way to help her. He couldn't imagine what her impressionable years must have been like. Psychically cut off from the Mentarch, hounded like an animal... Cortex had hurt her badly, and now she was going back. It seemed crazy. But she was going with friends this time, as well as with a significant Agrarian military force, so things would go very differently. The Mentarchy wouldn't hurt her again. Jerry would make sure of it.

“I think it's almost time,” Shariel said.

He glanced around. The crowd had thinned. Many of them had probably already boarded. “Yeah. We'd better get aboard. Don't want to get left behind.”

They grabbed their belongings and headed for the nearest loading ramp.