Mindlink (34 page)

What if he was hurt? Bleeding. Crumpled to the floor, in agony.
But she wouldn’t know because the link was broken. She’d never know.

She had to know. To get to him. Help him. Now.

All the anguish and uncertainty swirling through her mind
crystallized and she latched onto the one thing in her control.

“Natalie,” she shouted over the thunder of engines. “Find my
mom. Tell her I love her. And that I’m sorry.”

At the last second, head throbbing, she rolled. Off the
gangplank and through the shrinking gap. She fell to the hard floor of the
Acquisitions pyramid.

Hidden in the bowels of the docking mechanism, she lay stunned,
gasping, lungs on fire. That was why she never did her own stunts. She watched
through blurry, crossed eyes as the spaceship roared overhead. It shimmied,
rose, and blasted through the bay doors into the sky.

In a long line of spectacularly stupid decisions, she’d made
yet another. The big difference was she didn’t regret this one.

She had to save Sam.

Chapter Eighteen

For a moment, Sam expected to roll over and press up
against Ashley’s warmth. Instead, as he blinked into consciousness, the cold,
inflexible floor ground skin against bone. He had a splitting headache, courtesy
of a Security handheld. However, his head could never hurt badly enough to
disguise the fact he was alone in it.

She’d gotten away.

He’d completed the launch sequence before Security surrounded
him. Ramlah was surely here in Kir Barsha and hadn’t wasted any time divulging
all the information at his disposal. Security couldn’t have known Sam would be
linked any other way. As soon as he’d seen the disruptor in the worker’s hand,
it was over.

Possibly the information had come from the residents, if they’d
been captured. He hoped that wasn’t the case, but regardless, the distraction
they’d hoped to provide hadn’t worked.

Blackness veiled his vision. A hard shake of his head increased
the intense headache. They’d blinded him. Voices speaking proper Hahlan murmured
from all around him.

“I see you are awake.” The powerful cadence told him exactly
who had spoken.

The king.

He’d been concentrating on the launch and hadn’t noticed the
Security workers were the king’s personal force. It hardly mattered. Ashley
hurtled toward Earth and nothing could change that now. Neither could the king
take away Sam’s grim satisfaction in winning that round.

“Your Highness.” Sam sat up, but not in deference. His hip hurt
from striking the floor after being subdued by Security. “Was it necessary to
blind me?”

“I shall take no chances this time,
ZXQ
,” the king said.

He gritted his teeth. “My name is Sam.
ZXQ
doesn’t exist.”

A rustle. Someone moved toward him, but years of experience
using his hearing to decipher his surroundings told him it wasn’t the king. His
Highness’s higher quality robes whispered when he moved.

“You exist to serve the king, regardless of whatever ridiculous
moniker you humor yourself in choosing.”
ORU
. Sam
recognized the voice of the king’s assistant. His Highness’s loyal puppet had
been the source of the rustle. “You dishonor the Telhada, your fellow citizens
and your king by attempting to escape your rightful sentence.”
ORU
circled with more rustling.

“The king dishonors the Telhada and its citizens by lying to
them,” Sam countered. “This entire society is a fabrication, loosely bound by
religious murmurings and instilled fear. All citizens must know the truth.”

Silence. Then
ORU
laughed.
“Impressive speech. Who will spread this truth? You?”

“Yes.” Or one of the residents. Death seemed inevitable, but at
least they might poke holes in the Telhada’s system along the way.

The king cleared his throat. “It’s quite a shame someone of
your intelligence and skill is defective, but genetic programming is precise
only to a degree. If you had completed your appointed job, we might be closer to
bridging that gap. Now,” he snapped, “I require the location of Kir Dashamun. If
you give it, I will show you mercy and allow you to be recycled. Otherwise, you
will be interrogated. Painfully.”

Sam scoffed but almost couldn’t release the sound through his
suddenly tight lips. Interrogation would be doubly painful now that he knew the
true pleasure and intimacy of linking. The idea of having his mind invaded, his
memories voyeuristically perused—especially those of the physical and mental
bond he’d shared with Ashley—turned his stomach.

Yet if the king did not already possess the location, Ramlah
may not have turned against them as they’d assumed and neither had the residents
been forced to divulge it. The residents might still be unharmed. He would
ensure they remained that way. “Interrogate me now. I will never willingly give
you any information.”

“Very well. High Priest
UBA
will
perform the procedure,” the king said, sounding bored. “He will join us
shortly.”

Security had brought him to a place with no readers, then.
Also, if he must wait for the High Priest, no one else in the room was trained
to interrogate. Where was he?

More rustles, from different angles. Though his head felt like
it would burst at any moment, he inhaled, identifying the light, clean scent of
the queen’s hair lotion and a musky odor he didn’t recognize. The throne room.
Excellent.

It was a long way to the recycling chamber from Kir Barsha and
this time, he had a wealth of Ashley’s memories, not to mention a keener
understanding of the city, on his side. As soon as his vision returned, he’d
escape. For now, he could do little other than determine people’s approximate
position in the room and use simple voice recognition.

Without thinking, he walked his fingers in search of Ashley, to
link with her so she could be his eyes. His hands clasped nothing but thin air
and he realized. Sorrow twisted his lungs so sharply, he couldn’t breathe.

She was gone and it was the right thing. The Telhada couldn’t
reach her, allowing him to focus on the task at hand as best he could. But
without Ashley, his brain operated half as well, stretching toward ideas and
connections just out of reach. Perhaps that was the true danger of linking, to
obtain such an integral function and lose it.

The silence stretched. The court wasn’t present today as the
lack of stray movement and sound indicated.

“Why is the High Priest not in attendance?” Sam asked. Perhaps
he could lull the king into a conversation and barter some time. Long enough for
his vision to resolve.

“He is dealing with another matter,” the king said and didn’t
elaborate. The king rarely indulged in idle chatter, but it had been worth the
attempt. Perhaps
UBA
would be detained for a while,
yet.

“I apologize for the delay, Your Majesty. The interrogation did
not go as planned.”

Sam’s hopes died as the High Priest’s voice rang out and echoed
throughout the throne room. It hadn’t been enough time—he was still blind.

“How disappointing. It’s appropriate then, to have obtained a
backup. Did
RML
give you any information at all?”
the king asked.

“None, Your Highness.”
UBA’s
tone
was grim. “The subject self-destructed during the process. Quite painful for us
both, I’m afraid, at least until he died.”

Who was
RML
? The conversation
wasn’t random and obviously intended for Sam to hear. But what was he to take
from it?

“Unfortunate. You may begin with
ZXQ
then.” His Highness sat on his throne with a whisper.

The High Priest rustled toward him, his adder-headed staff
tapping against the stone floor. Finally, blotches of light peppered his sight.
He buried that fact, along with all his half-formulated escape plans.
UBA
halted in front of him.

“Stand,”
UBA
commanded and Sam
complied. The more cooperative he seemed, the easier it might be to surprise his
captors and he didn’t want to be incapacitated.

Pain crushed through his skull as
UBA
linked with him and he braced for the onslaught of
UBA’s
images. None came.
UBA
had been too well trained in the art of mind-mining.

Sam resecured his memories as the High Priest’s mental
tentacles slithered into his brain. He pushed the image of Ashley’s octopus at
the man. The
human
man capable of destroying his
brain with little effort, but also capable of falling victim to human
shortcomings.

“Stop. Your weak tricks have no effect on me.”
UBA
exhaled into his face and Sam suspected his close
proximity was intended to be part of the intimidation factor. Once upon a time,
it might have worked. “Now release your memories to me,
ZXQ
. Your childish games grow tiresome.”

Blurred shapes sharpened, zooming in and out as Sam tried to
center on something, anything, to restore his vision. A diversion was in order,
to allot more time.

He leaned closer to the High Priest and pretended to still be
blind. “My name is Sam. Do not address me by the Telhada’s inhumane and
insulting designation.”

UBA
laughed. The man meant to
generate fear but he would be sorely disappointed. Fear was the farthest thing
from his mind. Sam ensured it.

“I will not tell you again,”
UBA
said. “Stop blocking me. Where did you learn that technique?”

Agony crackled through the link along with the faint sense of
UBA’s
impatience. And something else...

Vague threads of strategy. Plans. The High Priest wasn’t as
adept at blocking as he’d first seemed. He had secrets and Sam could unlock
them.

Pain knifed at the base of his skull.

“You shall never know,” Sam promised, then clenched his teeth.
“But if I have an opportunity to devise another list, actress will be on
it.”

Fighting the pain, he wormed back into
UBA’s
brain. It was almost unbearable but he held on, determined to
understand the High Priest’s agenda and whether he worked alongside the Telhada
or pretended to while plotting against them.

Fuzzy images appeared, bit by bit. Ramlah. Ramlah was
RML
. He was dead. Sam was ashamed to feel relief.
Ramlah miscalculated the value of his information or the trustworthiness of the
High Priest. Both.

Sam would not make the same mistake.

The High Priest turned away in a swirl of blurred robes and
addressed the king. “Your Highness, this is not working. He has somehow
developed an ability to obstruct my interrogation.”

Yes. Somehow. Perhaps the High Chairman of Security might be
well-advised to funnel prisoners to the recycling chamber one by one in the
future instead of in groups. That practice had saved his life and embracing the
link, embracing all of Ashley, had saved his soul.

Breathing heavily, the High Priest said, “An additional source
of persuasion might change his attitude.”

The king mused for a moment and Sam wished he could see more
clearly to better gauge the situation. “If you give us the location of Kir
Dashamun, I will expunge your sentence from the records and restore you as a
citizen in good standing. Accept the offer. You will not receive a better
one.”

Sam schooled his expression and his thoughts. “You have
mistaken me for someone who desires your oppressive rule. You have lied to your
subjects for so long, you fail to see the harm. I no longer trust you or any
guarantee you make. I decline.”

A crack echoed through the throne room from the direction of
the king—flesh smacking against something solid. “Not only will I restore your
status, I will award you the promotion we discussed prior to your issues. The
High Chairman of Research. If you accept, I will forgive your lack of reverence,
provided you never speak such blasphemy again. This is your last chance.”

That garnered his attention.

If he accepted, he could work from inside the system. The
people of Kir Dashamun could be warned ahead of time. After all, he deserved
something for his trouble, for his years of effort and loyalty. His team needed
strong leadership, the kind only he could provide. The offer was tantalizing.
Seductive. The best of both worlds.

Sam shook his head. What was he thinking?

Yellie. He couldn’t put her at risk, or Kalum, who had just
reunited with his family and begun to heal from the Telhada’s evil. The doctor
had stayed behind, dedicating his knowledge to the people of Kir Dashamun, and
his sacrifice warranted better thanks than betrayal. Hundreds of people would be
displaced, if they even escaped in time. Where would they go?

The insane notion of accepting the offer slid away. Then he
recognized it—
UBA’s
crafty attempt at mind control.
Ashley’s flood of images and emotion wasn’t as subtle or insidious.
UBA
wouldn’t be successful twice.

“I understand, but you do not,” Sam said to the king. “I want
nothing from you other than the crown on your head so I may flatten it in full
view of all citizens. It is a minor victory for those whose natural lives you
have stolen.”

Sam’s full vision snapped into focus.

“You are sadly misguided.” The High Priest shook his head. “The
king is the bond of this society. Tell me,
ZXQ
. When
did you ever want for anything in your entire life? What basic rights do you
believe he denied? Food? Shelter? Meaningful education and satisfying work?”

“Freedom,” Sam said and oriented himself in the room.

The king lounged in his ornate chair, banded headdress in
place. The queen stood attentively by his side, elegantly draped, her expression
serene. Prince Inaros, the source of the unfamiliar smell, sat nearby, his
child-sized headdress listing. Two Security workers, handhelds poised, stood
guard behind him. A third worker, with a disruptor in his hand, kept watch near
the throne. The court was indeed absent today, no doubt languishing in the
pleasures afforded those born to the Telhada. Pleasures forbidden to the lower
class, lest they become dissatisfied with serving the privileged.

Sam continued talking as he sorted the visual information.
“Freedom and truth have been denied to me and to all citizens.” Paltry words to
encompass the full scope of what the Telhada had divested from those they ruled.
The sun. Significant connections with others. Emotions.

The price of such things—even heartbreak—should have been their
choice to pay.

He lowered his voice to speak to the High Priest. “When did you
decide you should be the ruler of Alhedis instead of the king?”

UBA
blinked and a shadow flickered
across his expression. The High Priest’s unease filtered through the link. Sam’s
ability to control his implant had grown steadily stronger the longer he stayed
linked with Ashley but the level of skill he’d acquired surprised even him.
Ramlah hadn’t lied about
UBA’s
ambition, but only
Sam knew how far it went.