A pause. "Your soul is open to me, Bruen! Without mantra, tell me. I can see your very thoughts. Speak! I will know the lie of your words. I have seen your lies before! ARE THESE SETBACKS OF YOUR DOING?"
Bruen shivered, soul reverberating under the impact The tightness in his body came from rigidity — all of his muscles spasmed and erked. His heart pounded in his ears.
"I… I…" Paralyzed, his thoughts would not come.
"Yes, Bruen? Tell me!"
Invasion! Rape of self! Privacy sundered! Pain!
"Easy, Bruen, just answer the question," the voice ordered, brooking no hesitation.
"I. We have had nothing to do with the events!" Bruen heard his voice cracking as he thought out his answer. "We don't understand it either! None of this matches the projections! None of this is probable! I repeat, we don't understand!"
A long pause.
"Very good, Bruen. I see the truth of your words. You are indeed mystified." The Iag Comm's voice echoed through the trembling caverns of Bruen's mind. "/ also see that you are becoming very tired, Bruen. Go now, rest. Think Right Thoughts. Follow the Way. I will call for you soon. You will have to institute other plans. You will have to move fast." A pause. "/ would hate to lose you now, Bruen."
With staggering suddenness, the Mag Comm withdrew.
Bruen's mind whirled, while his body shook and shivered. His tongue lay like a withered root in his mouth. The sound in his ears came from the air he gasped. Uncontrolled, his arm wobbled free of the chair to fall limp. He loosed a racked sob as a splitting headache lashed his brain.
The helmet was lifted from his head. He pried his eyes open to stare through a gray film at two nervous Initiates and Hyde, who stood back, face pale and drawn, hands wringing nervously.
"C. can't stand," Bruen panted. "Can't… get… up."
They carried him to his spartan room and laid him on the hard bed. Hyde coughed and hacked his agitation before spitting into the little sink in the corner.
"W-what?" Hyde stammered, coughing again. "What happened down there, Bruen? Your face, it twisted and contorted — a sight from hell! You cried, the most piteous sound I have ever heard. What did the machine do to you?"
Bruen filled his lungs, fighting to keep his mind alert despite the pounding headache. "Almost got me. Tried to find the… the secrets I hide." He ran his tongue over dry lips. "Damned machine is worried. t's. it's frightened." He puzzled at the implications. "Why? What has the machine to fear?"
Hyde closed his eyes, sinking into an ancient wooden chair. "I don't know, od friend." His watery eyes betrayed the pain in his lungs as he coughed again. "And that frightens me even more."
"Yes," Bruen whispered, drifting into an exhausted halfslumber. "That should frighten us. Destruction looms just over the horizon and we know not what form it takes."
Sinklar palmed the controls to drop the assault ramp as the LC settled. As the steel clanged on pavement, Sinklar led Gretta and the rest of his staff out into the bright sunlight of Kaspa. The stink of the LC's whining turbines bit at his nostrils. A Sergeant Third wearing Second Division insignia rushed forward, saluted, and pointed toward a decorated platform raised above the square. On all sides, people stood behind barricades and a perimeter of armored and armed soldiers.
"What the hell?" Mac asked as he crowded up behind Sink.
"I think this is trouble," Gretta warned as Sinklar turned his steps toward the ramp that led up to the platform where the commanders of the Second Targan Division waited.
"Congratulations, Sinklar," Mykroft's smile appeared stiffly formal, his every motion that of a man in control as Sinklar and his officers strode up the reception ramp to the
bunted platform. Sink got the briefest opportunity to see that some ceremony was about to be performed. Sunlight glinted off armored security personnel on the rooftops where they watched the crowd.
"And I am very happy to see you again, Second Gretta," Mykroft continued as they stepped onto the platform.
Sinklar gave Mykroft a nod. "The pleasure is mine. But I'm not sure what congratulations are in order. Your message caught me completely by surprise."
Mykroft's smile didn't extend to his implacable eyes. "Orders from the Emperor. We have pacified Kaspa. The rebellion is over."
"Over?"
Sinklar glanced back as the LC, painted greenish brown, went silent as it shut down flight systems. The landing ramp from which Sink, Gretta, and the other Section Firsts had just walked remained open. Just about every major official on Targa crowded the raised platform. About them, the familiar wire fences of the Regan military compound stretched. From the number of armored troops at parade position, it looked like a reception of some sort. But what the hell was happening here? What bloody idiot thought the rebellion was over?
"I thank First Mykroft for his kind attentions," Sinklar began uncertainly. "But I have an entire Division strung out across the countryside in training maneuvers. Could you be so kind as to tell me why our presence was required in Kaspa?"
And I hate having a training exercise interrupted to come pay you political pleasantries when you'll hang me out to dry at the first opportunity, Mykroft! My only chance at survival lies in that Division and what I can teach them in a short week!
Mykroft's smile remained plastic — deadly. "But, of course First. We will only take a moment of your time to pay you honor for your most admirable victories and to demonstrate his Imperial Majesty's sincere appreciation for your services to the Empire."
Sinklar bowed politely. "Thank you First Mykroft." Then why do I feel like I've just stepped onto the spider's web?
Mykroft smiled again, extending his hand toward the cen-
tral podium. Sinklar straightened his back, committed— especially if Mykroft's explanation had a kernel of truth to it.
Sinklar took his place and looked out over the plaza. He could see that the entire square had been ringed with Regan troops. A muted hush fell over the crowd of Kaspan citizens as Mykroft came to stand beside him. Gretta placed herself at Sink's elbow, MacRuder, Ayms, and the rest lining out to either side.
Mykroft took center stage, a remote pickup zeroing on him. "Ladies and gentlemen. People of Kaspa. We bring you together today to honor the new commander of the First Targan Assault Division, Sinklar Fist. And to inform you that your Emperor, Tybalt the Imperial Seventh, has brought peace to Targa. You can once again walk the streets in safety."
A low murmur rose beyond the fence.
Something about this felt wrong to Sink. His skin began to prickle. Mykroft doesn't exactly speak for the Targans. Pacified? Hardly. Not the gentle folk who hounded Gretta, Mac, and me through the streets. No, they're waiting. Whoever coordinates the resistance is biding their time.
The people surrounding the fenced area might have been an ocean that rippled and surged, cries breaking out in association with movement among the masses. They washed up against the gray stone fronts of the buildings that lined the huge civic square. The high sun shimmered off the slate roofs that angled the light into the plaza.
Mykroft shook his fist to punctuate his words. "We are here today, ladies and gentlemen, to see an end to the havoc raised by the revolutionaries, and to punish the wrongdoers who have put this planet through turmoil and caused such loss of life and destruction of property. Join me now and watch the fruit born of the seeds of revolt against the Imperial Seventh!"
Mykroft pointed at the large administration building behind him. Garage doors opened wide and armored guards trotted out, shoulder blasters at the ready, while lines of Targans, hands bound, were paraded into the open air and lined up before the assembled masses of troops and spectators.