The Fireborn Chronicles Read online

  “Yes,” Ira objected, “He's a Gov-operative. This is a misuse of power—exactly the type of thing that can be used against this team."

  Laynald spoke up again. “Well, Ira, this operative has the best leads we've come across so far to a dangerous PSI ring. As long as we get results, Dark Ops can forgive a lot of sins, if they ever discover them. And the ambassador has seen things that we need. Also, Tristen needs to vindicate herself by helping us, if she wants to live to fulfill her destiny.” He looked at Tristen. “You are too dangerous for Gov-Ops to overlook for long. Your only hope of evading them is to be with us. Remember that."

  Rael sighed. “Yeah, that's true. So far we haven't told anyone about you, so after this is finished, I want you kept out of sight.” He tapped his finger on the table in thought. “Yes, I think that's about it, and oh, Ira, see that the ambassador has no memory of anything afterwards, especially her."

  For a moment, his temple links sparkled, barely visible amidst his platinum hair. Rael leaned forward and signaled to Laynald. “Ok, we're docking now. Everybody, stand by."

  Both Ira and Tristen nodded. Laynald smiled.

  Rael spoke out. “Nemesis com: audio only to Station Commander Kree."

  Kree's voice issued from the wall com. “Kree here, Nemesis Commander."

  “Have you checked on your ‘guest’ lately?"

  “He is across the room from me, pacing. Since your arrival he seems anxious."

  “Send him now.” Rael signaled to Tristen. “Do it."

  A crash sounded over the com followed by Kree's voice calling out, “Guards follow him! Uh, Nemesis, he's on his way."

  “Understood. Nemesis out.” The com clicked off. “Laynald, see that he boards Nemesis alone. He'll know the way. Just tell any station personnel that the ship is restricted, and they are welcome to wait outside."

  Laynald nodded and rushed from the room, leaving the common room door open, his rapidly retreating steps echoing down the corridor behind him.

  Rael watched Ira and Tristen rise in unison and move away from the table.

  They paused in the middle of the room and squared off facing the door, remaining there motionless and silently waiting. Rael shivered at the remembrance of his frantic need to find her when Tristen had summoned him. A warm comfortable calmness washed over him as Ira glanced his way. He nodded his understanding and appreciation. The kid is right, this is not a good time to muck up the atmosphere.

  He approaches, Tristen reported. Quickening footsteps echoed from down the corridor.

  Welcome, Tristen's words reverberated across their minds. You have come!

  Ambassador Dash stood in the doorway looking haggard, disheveled and wild-eyed, oblivious of everything except her. As he approached her, she reached up to smooth back his wildly tangled hair. I need some questions answered. He swayed before her, totally entranced.

  Ira hesitated, then slipping his left glove off, approached the ambassador to make contact. To his surprise, the man reached out and touched the Wall-Master's exposed hand ... flesh to flesh ... the connection opened. But facing no resistance this time, he flowed effortlessly to the man's core essence ... NO APPREHENSION ... NO FEAR ... TOTAL SUBMISSION. It felt unnatural. The core twinkled and glistened—yet another proof of her total control over him.

  Ira paused. Tristen's presence had so overwhelmed this man that he could not locate his consciousness. As if by command, the pathway sprang opened: He is engulfed ... CALM ... SOOTHING PEACE ... FULFILLMENT ... a beautiful woman's tender gaze; he is lost in her soft, sea green eyes ... there is nothing else.

  Her echoing voice surrounds him. Remember. Remember when we met. Visualize for me. Relive it. See it again. Show me what you saw.

  * * * *

  The crowded street on Tanivol ... people pressing him as he walks the busy walkways ... the sun sits low on the horizon. Colorfully lit signs play havoc against twilight skies. There are invitations of all kinds and shapes. A half-block from the port, Tristen stands among the milling crowd.

  Clutching her arm is a man; taller than most, well built, with long golden blond hair. He pushes her toward him.

  She approaches with the crowd, just another passerby. She stops before him. She is lovely, and she holds up a silver ticket token, and under the guise of placing it into his hand, she reaches for his arm, sliding her hand up under his sleeve just enough to touch his wrist. With physical contact, everything goes white ... the Siren's soft voice beckons to him. It is the same vision that Rael had experienced before. He feels the same intoxicating lure, but without Ira to intercede, Tristen's lure takes root. A white flash again and then, as people mull around the sidewalk on the main street from the spaceport, the compulsion takes effect. It draws him through the streets at breakneck speed.

  They approach the building and enter without resistance; through the entrance, to the hallway, to the privacy booth, through the hidden corridors, into the tiny interrogation room. Waves of euphoria overtake him, his vision blurs. He becomes disoriented. The sound of her voice engulfs him with a torrent of indiscernible questions. They wash over his mind and roll over him, there in a flash of thought ... your name, assignment, rank, area of operation ... do you know this man ... Rael's face ... Commander Rael Pointe ... everything turns white.

  * * * *

  Somewhere amidst it all, Ira recognized Rael's presence. He had obviously succeeded in his attempt to receive and control the flow of images, so Tristen had managed to maintain the shunt between them. Ira felt the grating white noise amidst the nothingness. Rael must've told her to stop. He and the ambassador floated in a sea of contentment waiting for her return. Ira shuddered at the extent of her control. Everything about this situation was so dangerous. He hoped it would end soon.

  Rael's voice grated from a distance across their minds as he jacked into the Computer-link. Ira strained to shield himself from the searing presence. He expected that Tristen's discomfort would be excruciating at this point. He struggled to streamline his focus, hoping to keep the data stream as manageable as possible to quicken the process.

  Rael's voice sounded: “Review all information pertaining to Rael Pointe.” Faces and conversations race by at an unnatural speed.

  Rael had expedited the interrogation. The link at the speed of thought raced through hours of interrogation. The images were dizzying, but Ira knew that Rael could handle them with the efficiency of the computer that he was now fused with. Though Ira found it repulsive and unnatural, it served a greater purpose, just as his own talents did.

  Rael's voice grated through him again. “Tristen, release him. Ira, make him forget."

  * * * *

  The room fades into view. Rael is seated at the table, and Tristen stands before him. He nods, and she turns and walks off with Laynald at her side ... CONFUSION ... DISORIENTATION ... Ira takes control, gently removing the ambassador's confusion and creating a receptive state of relaxation. He retreats carefully back from the ambassador's core. There are no longer any abnormalities, not even a tendril of Tristen's presence remains. Ira slips back into his body, connected only through the physical touch of the other.

  * * * *

  “How do you feel?” Ira asked.

  The man looked dazed. “I'm not sure. I think I may have a headache. Who are you...? Where...?"

  “You look tired,” Ira suggested. One by one, select memories dropped away.

  “I sure am tired,” the ambassador said.

  “How do you feel?” Ira asked again.

  “I feel well enough to never stop at that accursed planet for supplies again.” He shook his head in disbelief, “I can't believe I've been out for so long. I'm sure glad you guys came along, or I'd still be out cold."

  “We take care of our own,” Ira said with a smile. “You feel fit for duty?” He released the contact and stepped away. Soon the ambassador would really see him and realize he was speaking to a Wall Master. Then he would begin to second-guess the situation. If only he could afford to era
se that part of people that made them fear him so. Ira sighed, knowing full well that to allay suspicion here he would have to invite it. He stood his ground and openly slid the dark gloves back on, allowing the Dark Ops ID insignias to flash crimson across the back of his hands.

  The ambassador eyed him suspiciously and answered in agents-cant to confirm Ira's security level. “Yes, I've probably got a lot of damage control to take care of now.” He looked around the room for the first time. Seeing Rael sitting at the table across from them, he asked, “Is this your ship?” As if to dismiss Ira, the ambassador headed toward the captain.

  “Forgive my manners, Ambassador,” Rael said, while presenting him with the Gov's praetorian-style salute and allowing his own Dark Ops ID and insignia to activate across the back of his hand. “I'm Commander Rael Pointe, Dark Ops.” He watched for any sign of recognition, especially at the mention of his name, then satisfied that Ira hadn't lost his touch, he continued. “You are on board my ship, the Nemesis, docked at Station 15. You were retrieved from Tanivol in a catatonic state. By the time we were called in, you had been in and out of consciousness for at least a week. We were assigned to find a way to revive you.” Rael smiled and motioned him to sit. “Come join me, and we'll discuss getting you back to your vessel. I understand they're still treating it like a plague ship since we let slip a few rumors after you were found—as a little precautionary measure."

  Ira spoke up one last time from behind the ambassador. “How do you feel now, sir?"

  “Pretty darn good except maybe for a dull headache.” The ambassador frowned and eyed the young Wall Master suspiciously.

  Ira ignored this and nodded. “Yeah, me too.” An uneasiness started to creep over him, something was wrong.

  For a moment, Rael's temple plates flickered. He looked over to Ira. “I need you to go help Laynald make sure everything's all right."

  Ira nodded and headed for the door, trying not to appear anxious.

  “Black robe and those long gloves; that marks him as a Wall Master doesn't it?"

  “Yeah, and good thing for you he was available.” Rael added, “How are you feeling?"

  “Probably better than I should. How bad was I?"

  “Pretty scary, according to the station commander. We still have a few leads to follow up on though."

  “Speaking of which, my mission was urgent a week ago; by now it's either critical or obsolete. I need to mission up, and since my ship's still planet side, maybe you wouldn't mind letting me use your com-line. I'm sure you have a secure line from here."

  Rael smiled. No one anywhere could provide a more secure com-unit than the Nemesis. “Come up to the bridge. I'll give you some privacy, and then, if you need a ride to retrieve your ship, we are planning to head back there for another look around as soon as possible."

  “Sounds good to me."

  Rael spoke aloud, intending that his guest recognize the ship was on vocal command mode. “Nemesis com: to star base: Kree."

  Kree's voice came over the room's wall-com. “Kree here, didn't really appreciate the way your officer treated my men, Commander—"

  Rael cut him short. “Ambassador Dash is ready to leave now. Please gather and return any of his possessions to the Nemesis as soon as possible. He will sign for them if you like, and we will be reporting to Dark Ops directly. Would you like me to ask them to call you back to lodge any complaints?"

  Kree clicked his mandibles in discomfort but said only, “Not necessary. The property will be dispatched immediately. Need any further assistance?"

  Ambassador Dash shook his head.

  “None Commander, we will leave as soon as the ambassador's belongings arrive. Nemesis out.” He cut the com-line.

  “You're not gonna be well liked around here are you?"

  “We don't encourage them to feel too comfortable in our presence. They love us when they need us; anything more just causes trouble."

  The Ambassador nodded, “Yeah I know what you mean, especially with a PSIonic team member."

  “Yeah.” Rael rose from the table and motioned him toward the door.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 5

  Laynald stood waiting for Ira outside Tristen's quarters. “I sure am glad to see you. I think something's wrong with Tristen.” He motioned to her room. “I mean, I'm not the most sensitive person around here, but I know body language. And she didn't seem right. I don't want to take her to the sickbay; it's not a very good place to hide someone. Maybe this is something you can help her with. She doesn't respond well to me just now."

  Ira sighed. “She doesn't really have a choice with me though, does she? You remember how hard it was on my sister whenever she had to link with Rael for the searches?"

  Laynald frowned, “Yeah, tore her up pretty badly, as I recall. You think it's something like that with this one?"

  “Possibly. I suspect that Tristen acted as a buffer for almost all of Rael's contact. I think she shielded us, but I know some of Rael's feedback bled through. Hell, even the ambassador came out of it with a headache."

  Laynald nodded, “Well, you're the expert in this, so I'll let you handle it. I'm going to go check on the situation with Rael. He wants to take the ambassador back to Tanivol, so we can be sure that he doesn't remember anything. We don't want him to run into Tristen at all, so she's confined to quarters for the duration. Think you can handle her like that?"

  “Yes,” Ira answered. “In fact it's been nice having another PSIonic around. It'll give us time to get her better situated.” He started for her door.

  “Do you want me to come in with you, or would I just get in your way?” Laynald asked.

  “I'll call you if I need any help.” Ira reached for the door access panel. He could feel from where he was that something was wrong.

  “I'll wait around out here for a couple of minutes when you go in just in case things are worse than we think,” Laynald added.

  “All right,” Ira said, then after taking a few cleansing breaths he pressed the access code for entrance. The light from the open doorway spilled softly across the dark room. He found Tristen curled up on a lounge chair, cradling her head in her hands.

  “Stay there,” he told her before she could rise to greet him as she always did. He brought the lighting up to a soft glow and allowed the door to slide shut behind him. The auto lock clicked with finality in the silent room.

  Tristen sat up in the chair and struggled to appear calm and alert for him. She was doing a fair job of blocking her pain from a distance. Apparently, she wanted to appear competent and ready for her next assignment.

  Slave training, Ira thought. We're not going to get many complaints from her. Then he wondered at her willpower, stamina and control. This type of control came from an extensive and specialized kind of training that slavers couldn't provide. Ira looked at her again. She was waiting for his orders. He sighed. Rael's link had scorched her. He was starting to feel it bleed through despite her efforts. He wondered at how she had weathered it and still managed to shield the link beyond while maintaining such a complex contact with them.

  He crossed over and knelt before her. At this proximity her anguish intensified, raking across his senses. He leaned closer and siphoned away some of her pain. She allowed his help, uneasily.

  Ira paused and looked directly into her eyes, forgetting that they were sightless.

  “Why do you fear my help now after all we have just done together?” Her confusion bubbled forth. “Answer me.” He leaned back and waited.

  I ... I am at your service, she stated softly, but you should not pay for my ineptitude. I can handle this discomfort, sir. You should not ... hurt for me.

  Ira paused and considered what to say. “I am told that you are to be my ward now. Even Rael has realized how attuned to each other we have become in such a short time. He would not have ventured such a dangerous process as what we just did if he didn't have faith in our abilities. Your input and voice are necessary here. If we continue working li
ke this, we will fuse and function as one in time. Your pain, your problems, your needs are mine now. Remember this.” Ira reached up and brushed the side of her face with his still gloved hand. “We are a team now,” he whispered. The ache that pulsed in her head slowed and gradually dissipated along with a few memories of the painful encounter. She startled, for a moment. “Trust me.” He leaned her head back into the comfortable chair. “And REST.” Her eyes slowly closed, and she drifted off into a deep sleep.

  Ira leaned back and watched her for a moment. He remembered how hard it had been for his sister when she had tried to do this. Rael's link with the computer was, at its purest form, incompatible with most PSIonic senses. It had not taken long for them to realize that she could not stay, so eventually Rael had helped her to join another unit, and Ira had been left here alone. Totally alone with him.

  Ira stood up and looked around the room. Perhaps soon he would have enough time to help set up this room to better meet her needs. He found a light blanket and covered her, then dropped into the seat next to hers and watched as she slept.

  * * * *

  The bridge, as always, was silent. Lights twinkling across its many panels lit the room like a panorama of stars as they reported and monitored the ship's systems to the central computer, which in turn notified Rael. He virtually felt the distress of his ship's systems when something was wrong.

  Dash stood in the doorway and looked around “Very impressive,” he said. “Total mobile remote?"

  Rael nodded.

  “Well I've heard of fully automated systems before, but I've never really seen one.” He looked around the room once more. “I guess you don't really need those bulky controls, after all, huh?"