Dreamspy. Jacqueline Lichtenberg
what you know of the process now. After an exploratory, you won’t be able to help him through his ordeal. If you tell us voluntarily, we’ll let you see him through.”
Slowly, Kyllikki moved her head in denial.
The other woman grabbed Kyllikki’s arm to expose it for the doctor’s injector. As the doctor approached, she leaned close to Kyllikki’s ear and said, “He was drinking your blood, wasn’t he?”
Kyllikki’s mouth dropped open in shock. At least they have no idea of the truth. But because of the mistake, the occupation commander probably thought he had a rogue luren captive, a luren other luren would be hunting down to kill, a luren he could use with impunity.
The door opened and closed. A man wearing a commander’s uniform with the six red triangles of a Master Coordinator on the shoulders stood facing Kyllikki. Mentally, she tensed. The man was short, somewhat overweight, with bushy eyebrows shading sunken eyes. She didn’t recognize him, but he had the rank to entitle him to a yacht like the one outside.
He raked over the hardened surface of Kyllikki’s barriers with casual precision, then dismissed her as what she appeared to be, a terrified paramedic. He gestured to her interrogators. “Come with me. All of you.” He jerked the door open and stalked out, the three close behind him, leaving only the two women guards flanking the door.
Kyllikki let out a tremulous sigh that was almost a sob. The man had to be the ranking telepath with the occupation, and he had perceived nothing out of the ordinary.
Three more deep breaths, and courage returned. If she was the only Eight Families telepath on Barkyr, she had an advantage she had to use before it was too late. Mentally, she followed the group, using the Metaji Search technique and keeping the indelible key image obscured behind her barriers. She had no trouble following the man who’d questioned her; his worried mental jabbering was distinctive.
She laid her head back against the apparatus behind her and closed her eyes, eavesdropping shamelessly, suffering only a small twinge of conscience for her Metaji oath. After all, they were under Teleod law now.
“Commander Aarl, do you realize what you just interrupted? I almost had her—”
“You had nothing but a woman paralyzed with fear. But that’s not important now. I have new orders direct from Zimor, The Lady of Laila.”
“A diving capsule?” asked the doctor.
The telepath sighed in exasperation. “How else would I get direct orders? But this one was bumped and rerouted twice before it arrived. Results were expected long ago.”
Kyllikki knew Zimor used her Pools to send message capsules all over, controlling the progress of the war. Their wakes were reputed to be much more destructive than those of ships, but Zimor neither believed that nor cared.
“Then your interruption was justified. What can we do?”
“This is classified, not to leave this room. I’ll know if any of you break security.”
“Agreed,” they chorused routinely.
“One of our prisoners, someone whom I believe must have come in on one of Prosperity’s pods, is actually working directly for Zimor. She wants him extracted from the herd without blowing his cover. Then he’s to be sent to the Dessiwan Internment Facility for potentially useful prisoners. I have his rebriefing tapes and documents.”
The interrogator sat down at a desk and began pulling up data on a screen. “We don’t have the detainees geneprinted and tagged yet, but I have the list of names they’ve provided. What name is the spy using?”
“The cover name is Elias Kleef. Something of a high profile name in Imperial circles, I’m told.”
He is Zimor’s! And with that, she knew beyond all doubt that he was a Dreamer, Bonded to her cousin, Zimor’s Dreamspy. There was no other way that Zimor could have known to launch that message capsule days ago. In fact, it must have been sent while he was in Otroub’s pod, expecting rescue from Barkyr...and ignorant of the intended takeover of the planet as well as Kyllikki’s identity. But as soon as Elias knew, Zimor knew. It’s the nature of the Bond.
The implications tumbled over each other in Kyllikki’s mind, but her attention was called back to the pacing commander. “He’s a triple-five operative, uniquely valuable though not irreplaceable, but he works, as I said, directly for Zimor herself. There was no facial view with the data, and no geneprint, no way to pick him out.”
The doctor said, “We found Abtrel by just sending someone in to page her. Why can’t we do that with this Kleef? He wouldn’t have any reason not to answer the page.”
The commander paced. “My orders are to get him out without anyone noticing. Where is he now?”
The man at the desk read from the datascan: “He came in on Prosperity’s Pod Fifteen, and was judged healthy. He should be in Building Five-eighteen-A. I have an idea.”
“Well?” prompted the Master Coordinator.
“Make them answer roll leaving their buildings for the meal, and you and I will be watching Building Five-eighteen-A for Kleef; then in the dining hall, I’ll take Kleef out of the serving line with some medical excuse, and you can have him in space before they finish eating.”
“He’d still be missed,” observed Aarl.
The doctor said, “We’d planned to resort them into different barracks tomorrow, increase stress before questioning, but we could do that tonight after the meal. That way, everyone will have lost track of friends and family, and one missing person won’t be conspicuous.”
They reached swift agreement on the plan, and since they had so little time, the interrogator sent orders for Kyllikki to be taken to a cell, a converted walk-in storage closet with one tiny vent and a camper’s latrine package.
She let herself lose touch with the interrogator. She had to think. But one thing Kyllikki knew now. She had to escape. She had to steal that yacht and escape. She’d need Idom. Somehow the two of them had to capture Elias and get him to the Emperor. Elias was the only proof worth offering of the fact that Zimor was raiding the interdicted Dreamer’s planet, breaking the accord between Teleod and Metaji that had survived more conflicts than she could name.
If the Metaji Empire was really losing the war, this could turn the tide. This could be the weapon the Metaji needed. But only the Emperor could wield it. He’d have to find a way to convince the Eight Families to turn on Zimor. With Elias himself as proof, that wouldn’t be impossible.
But she couldn’t leave Zuchmul behind. She either had to destroy his brain so he’d be permanently dead, or take the stasis case with them.
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