“Well, Tulio?” Korman was saying. “It’s yours. It’s for all four of you, in fact. Immortal, superior bodies—free to escape this prison. Free to run an empire.”
Koril smiled. “So it’s an empire now, is it? And who would I be in this? Lord—or pre-programmed servant?”
Korman shrugged. “Your old position is, of course, already taken. But you would lead the Synod, as a matter of course. You never really liked being Lord anyway.”
Koril sighed. “That’s true enough. And yet I feel I cannot take your offer for two reasons. I do not trust those alien friends of yours as much as you do—though I’m sure I would once I got my new, unproved body. Without a guarantee you cannot give, that of an unmolested mind, I can hardly accept. And, as for the second reason—do you remember Jatik?”
Korman looked puzzled, then brightened for a moment “Of course. Little weasel of a man. Sore for Diamond Rock. As bizarre a psychopath as we’ve ever had here on Charon. Killed in the desert, if I remember.”
Koril nodded. “Killed coming to me. But he made his report, Dieter, before he died. He saw those friends of yours, those aliens. Tell me, Dieter—what would a man like that find so terrifying that he would brand it pure evil? It is a question that has troubled me, and driven me on, these past several years. More than anything, it’s why I’m here.”
Korman laughed. “Evil? The Lord of Satan, Agent of the Destroyer asks me about evil? What would that little psycho know about evil, anyway? Different, yes—incredibly so. Alien in many senses of that word. But evil! The former Lord of the Diamond, Lord of the Most Sacred Order of Brethren talks of evil!” And again he laughed.
“Now!” Koril yelled. At that moment all laughing stopped as a wall of Warden force at least the equal of what I had seen below lashed out with blinding speed right at Korman. Taken aback, he had only a simple shield himself and so he burst into flame before our very eyes, flame so intense I could not bear to look at it.
The others, less intent on Koril’s speech and less confident than their leader of their own powers—after all, all of them hadn’t been able to kill Koril alone the last time, or even keep him prisoner—struck back. Ignoring the flaming Korman, who toppled to the floor and continued melting into an acrid puddle, each of our sores took on the four remaining head to head.
I wasn’t sure how they had managed to melt a robot of the type that had penetrated Military Systems Command and outsmarted all the Confederacy’s best security devices, but I wasn’t about to stay around and ask questions. I moved slowly and cautiously towards that alcove, and Darva followed. We were, as we had hoped, totally ignored.
Still, I stopped when we reached the alcove and looked back. It was no longer just wa being traded, willpower against willpower. The Synod sores were coming straight on, but the four, under Koril’s direction, began twisting, turning, forming a careful mathematical pattern. Such was its nature and intricacy that it actually began disturbing the air between the two sets of antagonists. Incredibly I saw ripples there, then crackles of real, visible energy—electrical bolts forming and shooting, at first randomly and then laterally.
“Oh, by the gods! They’re creating their own tabarwind!” Darva exclaimed.
“Let’s get the hell out of here!” I responded, and we ducked into the alcove.
Frankly, the place didn’t match the exterior. It was dark and dank and smelly. There were all sorts of pieces of furniture and stuff as well as controls for the curtains and whatever else was in the room. Still, far in back was indeed a service corridor which ran in one direction to a lift, clearly visible. Obviously the service entrance. We picked the other direction, as roars and howls of thunder and the crackle of raw energy sounded behind us. What was happening in that room back there would have been the sight of a lifetime—but it would almost certainly have ended ours.
Sure enough, at the end of the corridor a wooden stair led upward. We both hesitated at the bottom, then Darva looked at me. “Where’s Kira or Zala or whatever the hell she is?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I didn’t really notice. Back there, I suppose. Hell, forget her—now.” I took the lead and walked slowly and carefully up the stairs, laser pistol drawn.
I reached the top, stopped, and waited for Darva. I don’t know quite who or what I expected up there, but it sure as hell wasn’t Yatek Morah.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Twists and Turns
Darva tired before I could stop her, but Morah merely shrugged off the shots and dissipated the energy harmlessly. He was still dressed as I remembered him—in his black trooper uniform, although he had added a red-lined cape of the same material. His eyes were still bizarre and almost impossible to look at.
“Put away those things,” he told us, gesturing at the pistols. “They are of no use here—and there is no need for them.”
I sighed and bolstered mine. Darva, uncertain, did the same. I looked at him, then at Darva, and sized up the situation. “Does ‘Darkquest’ mean anything to you?”
Darva looked blank, but Morah actually chuckled. “Now where’d you learn that little phrase?”
“I’m it. Park Lacoch. The same boy Korman threw to the wolves a year ago.”
Morah sounded genuinely amused. “And of what use is that information to me now? I already know the true nature of Embuay, and I also know the location of Koril’s base.”
“That may be true, but it’s not my problem,” I responded casually. “I was given a job to do, and the first chance I got I did it.”
That comment, and my calm manner, seemed to give him pause. “You may be right at that.”
“Look—I could’ve taken the safe way out at Bourget, but I didn’t. I deliberately got myself caught and wound up a changeling. Whether or not “you no longer need the information, it says something about me, I think. I’ve paid a pretty high price to be just a redundancy.”
Darva looked at me strangely. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Sorry, honey. I’m a bottom-line pragmatist. I’ll explain it all to you later. Let’s just say Morah and I aren’t necessarily the opponents we might seem to be.”
She looked at Morah with obvious distaste. “Your girl Zala sure wasn’t any help to you, you know.”
Morah nodded, and I felt a little relieved that she was at least going along with me for now.
“It is true that the girl’s been something of a disappointment so far,” the Chief of Security admitted. “Is she with you?”
“Back there—someplace,” I told him. “We didn’t exactly want to stick around for the fireworks.”
“Yes, well, I can understand that,” he responded, sounding a little nervous and preoccupied. “How many are down there?”
“Koril and three others, all damned good,” I told him truthfully. “Plus your girl, of course, if she survived all that”
“Hmmm… Yes. I see…”
He looked and sounded worried, and it gave me no end of satisfaction to see such emotions in him. His appearance, manner, and those damnable eyes all carried such an air of overwhelming power that I would have sworn he was above such things.
“How come you aren’t down helping out your fellow—whatevers?” Darva asked, sensing the same thing.
’1 am not required to,” he said simply. “I am not on the Synod.”
“What! But Koril said—” I began, but he cut me short.
“I told you before I was Chief of Security. I just did not tell you whose security.”