The Empty Warrior (73 page)

Well, what do I do now?

I know not Achilles. These are your people, not mine.

I was thinking to myself, okay?

Ah, I see, but do not worry that I am too intrusive. You will soon learn to channel the thoughts meant for me while keeping your own to yourself.
Regulus’ reply was kindly and covered with fondness. O’Keefe inwardly smiled at the dog’s mental touch.

Who is the leader here? Do you have any idea?

There was a moment of psychic quietude as Regulus conferred with his lieutenants. Then without warning the answer bloomed in O’Keefe’s mind.
His name is Kebler Nelkris.

Nelkris?
thought O’Keefe, momentarily stunned.

Yes, that is correct, Kebler Nelkris. You are surprised. Is there a problem?
O’Keefe could feel a sudden distrust of the conspirators implicit in Regulus’ thoughts.

No, I don’t think so. It’s just a bit of a shock. This guy wouldn’t be any relation to a Valessanna Nelkris, would he?

Again Regulus silently consulted the others and then waited for them to forward what pieces of information their acute perceptions had provided the pack. It took a little longer to get a reply this time, but at last O’Keefe got the answer he had expected and hoped for, or at least thought he hoped for.
The two,
Regulus thought to him,
Valessanna and Kebler, are mates. Vega, sired by Keid and born of Maia, and his pack, who are assigned to watch this barracks, have overheard Kebler speak of her on occasion, ofttimes in his sleep. Apparently they were very close.
There was a short pause, and then Regulus was back in his head.
I sense this bothers you, that the two of them were close.

“No, damn it, it doesn’t bother me,” O’Keefe blurted out in frustration at the growing awareness that the dog was still able to sense more of him than he would have liked.
I just got to know the woman a little bit, that’s all. I don’t even like her.

If you insist,
Regulus replied, but doubt was woven tightly with amusement in his thoughts.

“You know, I’ve only known you for an hour or so and I can already tell that you are going to be a pain in the ass,” O’Keefe said softly. Without waiting for a response he whispered urgently into the darkness, “Hey, Kebler. Kebler Nelkris! I need to talk to you.”

There was no response. Not a word, not a movement, not even the rustle of a shifting body. O’Keefe tried again. “Hey, Nelkris, I know your wife. Your wife, Valessanna. I was staying at her house, your house; before I was captured and brought here.”

That finally provoked something. There was the sound of someone swinging out of a bunk and landing on the floor with bare feet. Momentarily a figure appeared from between two of the tiers of bunks. That figure was typically Akadean; short, brown, and curly haired. But in the darkness O’Keefe could see no distinguishing characteristics whatsoever. He looked like most everyone else in Ashawzut. O’Keefe wasn’t sure he would recognize the man if he saw him again in the morning.

Nelkris approached warily, frightened of the dogs, and stopped some fifteen feet away from O’Keefe and Regulus. “You were with my wife?” he said in somewhat of a combative tone.

“Oh, knock it off, buddy,” O’Keefe said with disdain. “I was her prisoner, okay, not her lover.”

“Who are you? And why were you a prisoner? Better yet, why were you staying in my home if you were a prisoner?” The man yet retained some of his belligerent demeanor, but nevertheless he took two small steps back toward the bunks.

His fear does not abate, but rather increases
, thought Regulus.

“No,” O’Keefe said, drawing the word out and infusing it with sarcasm. “Even I could figure that out.”

“What?” Nelkris asked in confusion.

“Sorry,” O’Keefe said. “I wasn’t talking to you.” He paused for a moment, thinking how to proceed. “Look,” he said at last, before reaching out and wrapping his right arm around Regulus’ neck. He brought his left hand up to gently stroke the dog’s chest. Regulus raised his nose toward the ceiling to give O’Keefe easier access. A low rumble of contentment commenced from deep in the dog’s throat.

“See?” O’Keefe said. “He’s a good dog. He won’t hurt anyone as long as no one threatens me.”

“Who are you, and what do you want?” asked Nelkris, still somewhat frightened, but now more amazed than terrified.

“I don’t have much time, and you have too many questions. So here is the short version. I know what you are planning; I know about the uprising. I need you to wait. I have my own plan, and you are going to mess everything up if you insist on proceeding. I’m going to take on Elorak in the arena. If I win, the dogs will attack the guards and let everyone out of the pens.”
You can do that, right?

Oh, yes.

“Then we all go after any bad guys that are left, and hopefully everybody gets out of here alive. If I lose, you can simply start your little revolt sometime later on. However, if you don’t do as I say now, you, and I mean you personally, will have to deal with the dogs. Understand?” O’Keefe asked, raising his eyebrows to accentuate the last word.

Nelkris nodded. “We’ll wait then,” he said, obviously not really understanding, but impressed enough by O’Keefe’s alliance with the dogs to readily agree.

“Good,” O’Keefe said. “Hopefully, we’ll both live through this and I’ll see you again. And don’t get impatient. I can’t do anything until there are enough ships in the hangar to get us all out of here.” He turned, starting to leave, but Nelkris spoke up before he took two steps.

“Tell me, what do you know of Valessanna?” he asked quickly, a pleading note to his voice.

O’Keefe turned back to the man. “I wish I could tell you something,” he said. “But I don’t know what happened to her. When I was staying in your house, she was gone most of the time, supervising a refit of
Vigilant
.” Nelkris appeared puzzled.

“
Vigilant
is a police cruiser; it was her latest command. It was damaged fighting the Vazileks. Anyway, it was in a shipyard for repairs when the Vazileks hit Sefforia. I don’t know if she was aboard or not. I don’t know if they got away or not. I was taken from your house before the attack, so I don’t know anything. One of her crew is here with me, and I asked him about it, but he doesn’t know anything either. Sorry.”

“Damaged fighting the Vazileks? Where? Who are you?”

Before he could answer, a thought from Regulus materialized in his mind.
We must go.
O’Keefe could feel the urgency of his assertion.

“I have to leave now,” he said to Nelkris. “I’ll get back to you when we’re free. And if I were you, I’d get back in your bunk real quick.”

Regulus was already up on four legs and mentally prodding the Earther along. O’Keefe was the last one out of the barracks, and when he entered the corridor, even he could hear it; the heavy scraping of steel treads accompanied by the low rumble of a diesel engine. A lizard guard, getting closer by the second.

I must carry you if we are to effect escape
, Regulus urged.
A dragon approaches.
He lay down and O’Keefe clambered onto his back, straddling his spine and wrapping his arms around the great dog’s neck. Regulus stood, O’Keefe held on, and they, with the rest of the makeshift pack, were off at a steady run.

A complex ballet of evasion ensued, with some dogs joining the group along the way while others dropped behind, watching their rear. Still others sprinted ahead to check as yet unobserved passages in the fore. But the main body of the pack ran steadily, never wavering, never unsure. In the midst of them, with Regulus so close both physically and mentally, O’Keefe felt as secure as a child carried by a doting parent. The reassuring intrepidity oozing from the mind of Regulus and the rhythmic gait of his balanced strides were like soothing balms to senses too long abused by the bloody rigors of Ashawzut. O’Keefe’s absolute trust in the animal was conveyed subliminally, channeled through the nanite construct, and their bond continued to grow stronger as the floors of the corridors swept by beneath the footsure paws of the alpha male.

O’Keefe did not have a thought to spend on the lizards that prowled the colony; he had no fear left for them and was too busy reflecting on the events of the past few hours. He had gone from fearful, fatalistic resignation to numbing terror to exultant euphoria in seemingly the blink of an eye. And now he sat astride a being who was not simply an ally, but a fighter, as pugnacious as O’Keefe himself; the dog was a warrior chieftain with an army of thousands of pure predators under his command. O’Keefe had never been so confident. Elorak didn’t stand a chance against them.

Soon they reached the entrance to O’Keefe’s barracks. Regulus slowed to a walk, but still carried him into the chamber as the other dogs waited in the passageway. O’Keefe slid off his back and turned to face the dog.
I will remain at your side,
Regulus crooned.

No, you can’t do that
, thought O’Keefe.
We can’t chance the guards seeing you here. If they see you coming out tomorrow, it probably wouldn’t set off any alarm bells in their thick heads. But what the guards see, the colony network sees, and you can bet the network would take notice. And when the network takes notice, Elorak does as well. We must do nothing to change our routines. Go to your den; sleep with the pack. I’ll see you in due time. Besides, it looks like we’re going to be in touch anyway.
He tapped two fingers to his temple as the thought was transmitted.

No, we will not,
Regulus replied.
The nanite construct has a limited range. We will be parted. But one of my packmates will always be near when I cannot be. They will watch over you in my stead. If need be, say to them, “Get Regulus,” and I will soon be at your side. Until then you are correct. Despite my most fervent wishes, I must return to the den. Goodbye, Achilles.
With that he backed hesitantly away before padding out into the corridor.

Goodbye to you, too, friend
, O’Keefe thought as Regulus trotted away. He stood still for a moment in the darkness before finding his way back to his bunk. Lindy was awake, propped up on an elbow and staring at him wide-eyed and agape. O’Keefe smiled and squatted next to his bed.

He bent close to Lindy’s ear and whispered. “We’re going to get out of here after all. I’m in tight with the dogs now.”

“What?” Lindy said, disbelieving.

O’Keefe clapped his friend on the shoulder. “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow when we eat, when there’s more noise in here. But everything is fine; get some rest.” He stood and hopped up into his own bunk, feeling the presence of Regulus slowly recede. When the link was broken at last and his psyche felt desolate once more, it took quite some time for the sweet release of sleep to steal away his consciousness.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE:

Crime and Punishment

The next morning when O’Keefe reported to the hangar, his proclivity toward paranoia had taken center stage in his mind, but it became quickly apparent that nothing out of the ordinary was occurring in the minds of those around him. None of the Akadeans in his work gang reacted to his presence, at least not visibly, any differently than they had the day before. They steered clear of him and eyed him suspiciously in the same way they always did. Either no turncoat had gotten wind of the events of the previous evening, or Regulus and his packmates were impressively effective at maintaining security. That thought evoked the specter of the trusty’s shriveled and mutilated remains, the grisly scene still, and perhaps forevermore, vividly imprinted on O’Keefe’s brain.

He pushed the memory away. There was no room for distractions now. Now he was impatient for action. Having suddenly and unexpectedly gained the backing of the dogs, he was ready to initiate the confrontation with Elorak immediately. Unfortunately, two considerations still forestalled that eventuality. Not only was the efficacy of his pistol still in doubt, but there was but a single freighter presently in the hangar, and she was one of the smallest designs that O’Keefe had yet seen. The ship was already half unloaded, and the men had only worked on her for three quarters of the previous day. It was hardly a vessel capable of transporting all the prisoners and the provisions they would need on what could be a very long voyage. O’Keefe was sure they would need at least two of the Vazileks’ standard freighters, and even then his fellow inmates would have to be packed in like livestock on a factory farm.

His work gang had been laboring steadily through most of the morning when O’Keefe unexpectedly began to feel the ethereal presence of Regulus.
Yes, it is I,
he felt the words coalesce in his mind,
and I have only now arrived. I wouldn’t think of interrupting your work, mind you, but I could sense your awareness of my presence, so I felt a greeting to be imperative. It would seem the nanite construct is still operating admirably. That is an extraordinarily good sign. Look for me to your left, near the stern of the freighter.
O’Keefe did so, and in a moment, through several other gangs of dockworkers and down the entire length of the ship, he saw Regulus sitting, looking over a massive shoulder while ostensibly standing guard over another group of inmates. His tail began to wag slightly when O’Keefe’s eyes found his.