Reavers (Book 3) (11 page)

“Real Weavers?” Frank asked, interrupting.

“Well, we can’t call them Weavers,” he said through slow movements.  “That would be too confusing.”

“This from the guy who refuses to use words,” Diana said angrily.  “You live to be confusing.”

“Good point.”  Frank rubbed his chin as he ignored Diana.  “How would we know if you were referring to humans who can sense emotions or the aliens that inadvertently gave us that ability in the first place?”

Frank noticed the blank expression on Diana’s face and the embarrassed one on Zia’s.

“Anyway,” Morio quickly grabbed Diana’s attention again, “most of them wanted to get away from us.  However, one of them was particularly attached to one of us.”

Diana stared at Frank.  It was obvious she was thinking things through.

“So that little girl Frank found in the marketplace . . .” Diana spoke slowly, “the one we had to rescue from the Brotherhood . . . she was one of the
real
Weavers.”

The three nodded as Diana put the pieces together.

“So instead of leaving with the rest of her kind, she changed her appearance so she could stay behind with Frank?”

Again the three nodded to Diana.

“Okay,” she paused for a while.  “There’s one thing I don’t understand.”

“Just one?” Frank joked.

“Why would
anyone
go to so much trouble over
Frank
?” Diana asked, ignoring his taunt.

Morio burst into laughter as Zia restrained a chuckle.  When Frank stuck his tongue out at Diana, she too broke into laughter.  After a few minutes the laughter died down.

“I can’t believe you kept this from us for
two
years,” Diana said as she socked Frank’s shoulder.

“I thought you knew!”  He rubbed his shoulder and shrugged.  “You treated her exactly the same as you did when she looked like a little girl.  I thought you had figured it out.”

“Did it ever occur to you Diana’s just a warm and kind person?” Zia asked.

Frank stared at Diana for a moment as if studying her.

“Nope,” Frank said tauntingly.  “Never crossed my mind.”

“Moron.”  Diana chuckled to herself.

“So how can you be sure we are safe?” Morio asked Zia wordlessly.

“Don’t be silly,” Diana said smugly.  “If the real Weavers could control the Brotherhood, a single ship should be easy for her.”

“Look who’s an expert now!” Frank taunted.

A light blush filled Diana’s face.

“We can’t really control people,” Zia said in a small voice.  “We just make some desires stronger and strengthen some emotions.”

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you!” Diana quickly apologized.

“So, basically just like a human Weaver,” Morio asked without words.

“Only stronger,” Frank said with obvious pride as he put an arm around Zia.

Zia smiled warmly as she rested her head on his shoulder.

“I do have a few other tricks too,” she said with a tiny smile.

“I’d be interested in seeing these
tricks
,” a deep voice said.

The troopers turned to find the cloaked man standing in the doorway.  A look of superiority on his face told Frank he’d heard everything.  An armed man stood on either side of him, pointing their weapons menacingly.  At first Frank thought they were Weavers, given their black uniforms.  However, he quickly realized that wasn’t the case.  While their uniforms were black, they lacked that shine that denoted Weavers.  Additionally, the way they clutched their rifles told him the rifles were their only weapons.  Frank had seen the same grip on several desperate thieves he had caught in the market square.

“What’s your mother’s maiden name again?” Zia asked nonchalantly.

Frank, Diana, and Morio all turned and stared at her in complete surprise.  Frank quickly turned his attention back on the three men standing in the doorway.  To his surprise, they were honestly thinking about her question.  The way their brows furrowed clearly showed they were trying to remember.  They looked like three schoolboys who showed up unprepared for a pop quiz.

“Alabaster,” the armed guard on the right said.

“Kaneko,” the armed guard on the left said.

“Rolling,” the cloaked man said.

With content looks on their faces, all three relaxed their stance.  The armed men lowered their rifles and the cloaked man smiled proudly.

“That
is
a neat trick,” Diana said in awe.

The three men stared vacuously at the four troopers.  It was like they were sleepwalking.

“What exactly have you done to them?” Diana whispered to Zia.

“Nothing much really,” she said sheepishly.

“She’s blocking their memory,” Frank said for her.

Diana tilted her head, not understanding.

“Something to do with long term memory,” he said scratching his head, trying to remember.  “She explained it to me, but I never really got it.”

“Some things never change,” Morio said silently.  “How many lectures did you sleep through back in the academy?”

As Frank shrugged, Zia chuckled warmly.

“You stayed behind for this idiot?” Diana asked her.

“He’s not all that bad,” she said defensively.

“Excuse me,” the deep-voiced man interrupted.  “How did you all get on my ship?”

“Terribly sorry,” Frank said with a wide smile.  “What was your name again?”

The man in the black cloak paused as he tried to remember.

“It’s like they are drugged,” Morio gestured.

“At least we are in no danger now,” Diana said relaxing.  “Although, I’d still like to know what’s going on.”

“Gazsi Kántor!” the man shouted as he slammed his fist into his open palm.

The troopers all jumped at the sudden sound.

“Gazsi, why have you picked us all up?” Zia asked sweetly.

“I did?” Gazsi asked no one in particular.  “That’s right.  My orders . . .”

The man in the cloak suddenly stood upright again, his relaxed posture gone.  He shot a dark gaze at Zia.

“I was warned to be careful,” Gazsi said as his eyes narrowed.  “I took you all far too lightly.  I wouldn’t recommend using that
trick
again.”

“Zia . . .” Frank asked in a worried tone.

“So that’s your name,” Gazsi said as a sinister smile started to form on his face.

“So, we’ve been properly introduced,” Zia said with a warm smile.  “But why did you want us to board your ship?  Where are we going?”

Gazsi clicked his heals.  The two guards broke from their dreamlike state and raised their rifles again.

“I’ve been tasked with bringing the lot of you in,” Gazsi said coldly.

“So you know who I am?” Zia asked, sounding honestly surprised.

“You are an added perk.  My orders are for Morio and his friends.”

“What do you want with him?” Diana asked defensively as she moved closer to Morio.

“Personally, I have no interest in any of you,” Gazsi said with his gaze still locked on Zia.  “My orders were to collect you and bring you in.”

“So you’re a glorified deliveryman?” Frank scoffed.

“Oh, I’m so much more.”

Gazsi broke his gaze on the girl and stared at Frank.  There was murder in his eyes.  A cold shiver ran down his spine as the man moved his hand slowly toward his hip.

“What’s your favorite color?” Zia asked casually.

Gazsi instantly paused.  His brow furrowed as his posture relaxed.  The armed guards once again lowered their weapons.

“I think they need you on the bridge,” Zia said before any of them had answered.

“Really?” Gazsi asked as if he was half asleep.  “We must be leaving Hellacus space . . .  what are you two doing?”  Gazsi grabbed the armed men and lifted them clean off their feet.  “Get back to your posts.”

The three left the room completely oblivious to the four troopers they had just picked up.  Frank let out a sigh of relief.

“We still don’t know much,” Diana said.

“We do know one thing,” Morio said without words.

“What’s that?” Zia asked.

“Someone has it out for us.  Someone powerful enough to order a man like
that
around.”

The rising sun pierced the room through a window, covering the ceiling with a golden light.  As the sun ascended higher and higher, the illumination in the room slowly intensified.  As the light crept downwards, the warm color fell against Brent’s closed eyelids.  Slowly drifting from slumber, he squinted his eyes as they adjusted.  The instinctive urge to stretch was quickly deterred.  His entire right side was being clung to by familiar warmth.

With a smile, he kissed the forehead of his sleeping wife.  Shifting gently, she clung to him just a bit tighter.  She had never been an early riser.  Even back in the academy she barely got up in time for morning meals.  A sense of serenity filled him as he watched her sleep peacefully.  He treasured mornings like this.  As the golden light washed over her, he couldn’t imagine a more beautiful sight in the entirety of the universe.

A rapid tapping suddenly intruded on his idle thoughts.  He knew that sound well.  Octavia was standing just outside their door, tapping in perfect rhythm until she got a response.

“What’s wrong now?” Cassandra asked groggily.

“What is it?” Brent shouted to the closed door.

“It’s urgent,” a muffled voice said through he door.

Whenever Octavia said urgent it meant she wouldn’t go away until she’d talked it over with him.  Cassandra sighed as she sat up and stretched.  Brent moved up behind his wife and kissed the nape of her neck.

“I promise I’ll keep it brief,” he said apologetically as he got out of bed.

Cassandra wrapped herself in the blankets of the bed as she tried to hide from both the sun and Octavia.  He quickly crossed the room and snuck out the door, trying not to make any sound.  As soon as the door was closed behind him, he turned to Octavia.  The young girl was holding a fresh Weaver uniform in her arms.  This would not be good news.

“Need me looking proper?” he asked causally as he walked away from the bedroom.

“I know the university is important to you, but remember you have
other
responsibilities,” Octavia said in an overly polite tone as she followed.

Brent paused in his tracks.  Normally he ignored the emotional presence of others, but this was important.  Quickly expanding his senses, he checked the house.  Not one awake person nearby.

“It’s rare for you to mention that in public,” he said, facing the young girl directly.

“It’s been three years since the Forged pulled back the Shards, but the Commonwealth is still just as paranoid,” she said with a slightly annoyed look on her face.

This was bad.  Octavia had gone so far as to mention the Forged.  To utter the name of the leaders of the Shard so casually could mean only one thing.

“Which one?” Brent asked bluntly.

Octavia blinked rapidly in disbelief.

“How’d you know?” she asked finally.

“You’d never refer to them by name unless one of them was coming here.”

“Third is already on his way here.”

“Third?  What does he want?”

“I’m not sure.”  Octavia fidgeted, obviously worried.

During the Great War the Shards were controlled by a single central consciousness.  Near the climax of that war, that central consciousness created the Forged to take over control, eight independent minds intended to lead an army of mechanical monsters known as Shards.  Given their origins, it made sense they were a close group.  For one of them to hide something from another was irregular to say the least.

“So how much time do I have?” Brent asked.

“A week or so, maybe a little longer.  He has to avoid detection, after all.”

“If that’s the case, I’m going back to bed.”

“But . . .”

“Don’t worry,” he said gently as he patted her head.  “I’ll be ready.  Plus, I’ll make him apologize for keeping you in the dark.”

Octavia smiled and hugged him.  Quickly releasing him, she handed him the uniform before departing.  Knowing her, it was anything but ordinary.  Octavia was overprotective of him to the extreme.  That was her way of showing how much she cared for him.  Brent studied the Weaver uniform as he headed back to his room.

It seemed perfectly normal.  Opening the door to his room, he found a large mound of blankets in the center of the bed.  With a shrug, he hung the uniform in the closet before heading back to bed.  As he sat on the edge of the bed, the mass of blankets shifted so a pair of eyes could peek out while the rest of Cassandra remained hidden.

“What did she want?” she asked through the sheets.