Alliance of Serpents (5 page)

The blood had drained from Petreit's face,
and his fingers quivered visibly around the clipboard. "Y-Y-Yes,
Sir! Right away, Sir!" His exit was more than hasty.

When the door had slid closed once again,
Kindel motioned for Barrine to return. "Doctor, how long until you
can reproduce the stone in mass quantities?"

The lanky man looked up from his desk with
lips pursed as though frustrated with the question. "As I said, I
need to examine the test hatchling before I can determine whether
or not the experiment was a success."

"How long, Doctor?"

Barrine sighed heavily, his unfocused eyes
softening as he thought. "Even if this experiment goes well, it
will still take months to produce the number you've requested."

Thorus ground his teeth and headed for the
door. "That's not good enough, Doctor."

"Sir, due to the sensitive nature of the
specimen and the complex analysis required to—" The door closed
behind Kindel, cutting the doctor off in mid-sentence. His
attention immediately shifted to his associates standing on either
side of the door. "Why was Lieutenant Petreit allowed to enter? I
ordered that no one be permitted access."

"The information he possessed seemed
relevant, Master," Scimitar answered. "We thought you would want to
hear it."

Kindel opened his mouth to admonish them, but
thought better of it. The information
was
important, if
there were
any
two members of the crew he'd share it with,
it would be his assistants. "Keep whatever he told you to
yourselves," he told them. "Come, we have one more stop to
make."

The prison level was more quiet than usual,
though the addition of the new guards likely had a good deal to do
with that. Given the abilities of the most recent arrival to the
ship, it was necessary to take considerable precautions when seeing
to the security of his cell. Sartan Truce was a sorcerer; he could
easily blast through the prison bars without the proper defenses in
place. Placing two of his Zo'rhan soldiers beside his cell to hold
a magical energy barrier in place around the man was a necessity.
It would contain his magical abilities, and keep the ship's prison
level in one piece.

The two soldiers, both Zo'rhan men uniformed
in grey and well versed in the magical arts of their people, nodded
slightly toward him as he and his assistants approached. They stood
completely still, hands held palm-up at either side and eyes locked
on Truce. The barrier would remain invisible unless attacked, but
there was no doubt Sartan knew it was there. "No trust between
allies, eh?" the bearded man laughed when he saw Kindel. "What, did
you think I was gonna try and blow up the ship or something?"

"The thought had crossed my mind," Kindel
responded flatly. "Tell me more about this weapon of yours."

Truce laughed again as he rose from the thin
bed against the wall. "And give you all the leverage you need? I
tell you everything, and then you don't need me anymore. Sorry, but
I'm not the fool you think I am."

"You willingly walked into
my
prison,"
Thorus shot back. "Some would consider that foolish."

"I call it a necessary risk," Sartan
countered. "Perhaps, if you agree to a partnership, I might
consider giving you limited schematics regarding the weapon. But
for now, all I'm prepared to tell you is that your Aeden pals have
it."

Kindel swallowed a growl and forced away a
sneer. "I could easily kill you and then retrieve the weapon from
Aldoric myself."

Truce's grin never faltered. "You could, but
you wouldn't have a clue of how to work it. If anything, it would
be
more
dangerous to you."

"Why should I believe for a moment that an
alliance with you would be any less so?"

Truce folded his arms and began pacing back
and forth. "I admit that it does require at least a period of
unconditional trust so that you can see that the Kyrosen will obey
your orders."

"And why should I believe that your people
are as trustworthy as you yourself claim to be?"

"My people follow my orders," Truce said
simply. "If I order them to swear oaths of allegiance to you, they
will be on their knees before I've finished the order."

"So you say," Kindel said through a wry
smile. "But oaths don't give me any insurance."

"What would
you
have me offer, Thorus?
What will it take to convince you of my honesty?"

Kindel thought for a moment. The Kyrosen
couldn't have much in the way of assets after living in a desert
for so many years. What kind of collateral could he demand that
would be significant enough to force Truce's loyalty? The man had
already stated that he wasn't willing to give up the specifications
of this weapon of his—a wise choice, considering it would pretty
much eliminate any need for him or his people to be involved—and
there was little else Sartan could offer. The Kyrosen didn't
possess much, and material things were easily replaced anyway.
Their society's main strength—and weakness, in Kindel's mind—was
their interdependence on each other. On their own, each Kyrosen was
nothing more than an average sorcerer. But together, they created a
well-oiled machine capable of achieving just about any goal they
set their sights on. However, if a key part of that machine were to
be removed . . . "You shall be my collateral," Kindel finally said.
"I will allow you to conduct a transmission—supervised, of
course—to appoint a new leader to the Kyrosen while I keep you in
custody. You will remain in my prison cells until I possess this
weapon of yours. If the Kyrosen so much as fire one shot in my
direction, or if the weapon turns out to be some kind of fairy tale
invented to deceive me, you will die a slow, painful death,
followed by the rest of your people. If all goes well, however, I
will have you all on transports to wherever it is you want to
go."

If there was any hesitation or unease about
the plan, Truce never showed it. He slid his hand through the bar
as soon as Kindel finished speaking. "You have a deal."

Thorus shook his hand, never breaking eye
contact. "Don't think of betraying me, Sartan. You'll be pleading
for mercy the instant you turn your back."

"You have nothing to worry about, Thorus,"
Sartan assured him. "From this moment on, the Kyrosen are loyal
allies of the Vezulian Armada."

*******

"But I don't want him listening in on my
thoughts!"

Damien slunk down in his chair, though
Kitreena thought she saw the beginnings of a smile in the way the
corners of his mouth were turned. They were alone in the conference
room—one of the few times Kitreena had been able to corner Damien
since the incident on the planet—and now he seemed almost amused by
what had been happening to her. Imagine, her personal thoughts and
feelings on display for Arus to hear! It was frightening and
mortifying all at the same time.

She dropped into the black cushioned chair
perpendicular to where Damien sat and let her arms hang lazily over
the sides. Usually, nearly thirty people sat around the long
polished table giving reports of their assigned patrols throughout
the universe. The meetings took place every two weeks when Damien's
Covert Operations team convened with the latest information on
enemy activity, whether it be the Deltorian Pirates, the Vezulian
Armada, or any other criminal faction out there that liked to stir
up trouble. The huge screen in the wall at the far end of the table
was often used to display fleet positioning and intelligence
recordings, though it stood blank now. There would be no Covert Ops
meeting today. More important matters needed to be addressed.

"It's going to take time," Damien finally
said. "You'll learn to control your abilities, but first and
foremost you must develop patience. Without that, anything you
learn will be rushed and incomplete, and you'll never be able to
truly and fully utilize the power you have within you."

"How?" she groaned, throwing her hands up.
"You said it yourself; no one else out there has the same abilities
as I do. Who's going to teach me how to control them if no one
knows firsthand what I'm going through?" With another agonized
groan, she put her head in her hands. "If I could just keep Arus
out of my head, I'd be fine with taking the time necessary to learn
the rest of my skills."

"Well, I've sent requests out to several of
my connections of Malziar and Por'Alless. If anyone can give us
some tips on how to control a telepathic connection, it would be
them. I know their race is quite different from humans in many
ways, but I can't imagine the process of telepathy can be all that
different."

Kitreena looked at him skeptically. "And what
do I do in the meantime? For all I know, Arus could be hearing my
thoughts halfway across the ship!"

"Well, you might try explaining it to them.
Now that we've decided to—"

The whisk of the door behind her cut him off,
and Arus took a slow step into the room. "You . . . wanted to see
me?"

Damien stood as he entered, and bowed deeply
when the door had closed. The Zo'rhan were big on honor, something
Kitreena had never fully understood. But she respected it anyway,
for Damien's sake. "Welcome, Arus," he said once he was upright
again. "Have a seat, make yourself comfortable. We have much to
discuss."

Arus was visibly wary. He sat down with the
appearance of a young man on his way to his own execution. "Have I
done something wrong?"

"Not at all," Damien assured him. "I'll be
happy to explain just as soon as Vultrel gets here. For the moment,
however, let's get the awkward issue between you two out of the
way."

Kitreena glanced at Arus, but consciously
made an effort to avoid eye contact. Still, it was blatantly
obvious that he was looking at her.
He's probably listening to
my thoughts right now!
"As you know by now, I'm a Morpher," she
said, forcing herself to stare at the table. "As a child, a Morpher
is just the same as any other human. However, throughout our
teenage years, our abilities begin to manifest themselves through
our emotions. The transformation you saw take place back at the
castle was brought out of anger."

"And she's got
plenty
 of that,"
Damien muttered to no one in particular. A quick look from her
erased his grin.

"As I was saying, my emotions bring out my
talents. Many Morphers have different talents while many others
possess the same. Unfortunately for you and I, it appears that I
have the gift of telepathy, a talent which none of my people share.
It is unique to me, for whatever reason, and I must learn to
control it on my own. In the mean time, I ask that you ignore any
of my stray thoughts that may wander into your head. I will try to
learn to control it as best as I can, but it may take time."

Arus' surprise was mostly hidden behind the
implant, though his hanging jaw gave it away. "Am I the only one
who can hear you?"

Kitreena looked at Damien, but he only
nodded. "It appears so," she answered after a sigh. "I don't know
why. Maybe it's because you were closest to me both times I
unconsciously tapped into my power. I can't tell you for sure, but
I promise I'll do my best to overcome this problem and control
it."

Arus held up his mechanical hand to
wordlessly assure her he understood before he quickly switched to
his human hand. "It's all right. Take your time. I'll ignore
anything I hear, and I swear I'll repeat none of it to anyone, not
even myself."

"There is much more about Morphers that we
wish to share," Damien spoke up, sitting forward in his chair. "But
I want to wait until Vultrel gets here to begin with all that. Have
you seen him?

"I saw him once when I woke up," Arus
replied. Kitreena flinched when she heard his voice in her head.
And he hates me now.
"I don't think he wants to see me right
now."

Damien gave him a nod of understanding. "He
is upset with you over what happened on the surface, I assume?"
Arus' gaze turned downward as he nodded. "We can speak with him if
you'd like."

"No! Please, don't press him. He's been dealt
a great loss and I don't want to make things worse."

"As you wish. I'd never consider interfering
against your wishes, of course."

The door slid open again to admit Vultrel. He
seemed even more cautious than Arus had, hesitating to enter even
after Damien invited him in. Once inside, he took a seat several
chairs away from Arus. His made his disdain known with glares and
pursed lips, but he did not say a word. Once comfortable, he turned
his eyes to Damien and waited expectantly.

"Very well," Damien began, rising from his
chair. "We've called you both here today because Kitreena and I
have come to an important decision. Given that you already know so
much, and because you, Arus, feel like you cannot return home,
we've decided to let you in on everything. Who we are, who the
Kyrosen are, where we're from, what we do, and just about anything
else you want to know."

"And what about me?" Vultrel spoke up. "I can
go home, can't I?"

"If that's what you've decided you'd like to
do," Damien responded.

"But it's all right for me to know all this
stuff?"

"Again, you know so much already," Kitreena
explained. "Regardless of what we tell you now, Terranias' society
has already been irreversibly affected by our interference."

Damien cleared his throat and continued.
"Myself, Kitreena, and the crew of the
Refuge
are part of an
intergalactic military known as the Aeden Alliance. I am the
Captain of this ship, though I don't like formal titles, so that's
why you'll always hear people refer to me as Damien. Kitreena is
second in command. I know she's young, but she has proven time and
time again that she is capable of handling her duties. Our purpose
is to protect and defend any planet which either accepts or
requests our assistance in any number of assorted matters. We've
liberated oppressed societies, rescued hostages from pirates,
recovered stolen goods, and even managed to diffuse a few wars
along the way."