Pras’ kind had always been gifted with telepathic abilities. The oldest and most powerful immortals were able to connect and communicate with each other on mental pathway similar to that fledglings and their makers. As with even the more adept human telepaths, those abilities were limited by the distances between star systems. Among the more powerful vampiric nobles, one’s mental reach rarely extended beyond a planetary system or two.
Fighting alongside the warriors of the Nyacene had presented many opportunities to acquire enemy technology during the previous era. He’d reverse engineered one such device. The projector functioned in a similar fashion to the human telepathic relay system. Instead of relying on relay station, the device gave him a temporary boost in abilities that was sufficient to bridge the gap, so to speak. The technology was dangerous and would most likely do irreparable damage to any human who attempted to make use of it. Being one of the un-dead came with certain benefits, after all.
At Pandora’s helm was a cushioned cradle of sorts. Pras settled back into it and reach for the wired nodes at the left and right terminals. He attached one to each temple and braced himself for what would come next. His whole body tensed momentarily as a singularly painful jolt of electric energy hummed through his bones. The silvertone walls ahead went dark and a large viewscreen flickered on, displaying the imagery Pras projected as he reached out across the expanse of the stars with his mind.
There was a sharp intake of breath. The sensation of seeking was rather like being dumped into freefall after being swished around in a giant whirlpool. Pras’ stomach churned. He ignored the urge to disconnect abruptly. Instead, he sharpened his focus, shortly thereafter honing in on his target.
“There you are!” he murmured and just like that, he was inside his subordinate’s mind.
Pras was immediately assaulted by a blinding rush of sensations. He felt the other man’s body stiffen, the way his blood hummed with pleasure.
“Emanuel.”
There was also no small measure of surprise at the sudden invasion. There was a low chuckle.
Pras. Impressive timing, as always.
The eyes swept downward toward the warm, supple and completely naked body pressed up against Emanuel. The fledgling’s sharp teeth had sunk deep into Emanuel’s neck some time ago. Pras felt it to his toes, the slow sweet outward seepage of energy, Emanuel’s steadily increasing arousal. The boy, fed leisurely and greedily, as if from a bottomless well. Pras raised a brow at that. Emanuel was being uncommonly generous with this one, wasn’t he?
“Oh my, does this mean you’ve mellowed with age?”
Dare I ask to what I owe this rare honor?
Pras chuckled. “Don’t sulk Emanuel. It doesn’t become you.”
At the risk of getting my head taken off the next time we meet, could you hurry this conversation along a bit. Please?
Pras smiled briefly. So there were some things that hadn’t changed. Good, that was good. “Have the Var truly begun to move into human territory again?”
Emanuel hesitated. Inside his mind, Pras could feel his stubborn resistance. He had avoided probing too deeply but if Emanuel’s trademark stubbornness was going to rear it’s ugly head right now...
Surprisingly, he relented.
They’ve been at it for several decades--Galactic Standard. They seem to have become quite active lately. My sources inform me that they recently targeted Y’chen. Rumor has it that the young daughter of the emperor has gone missing since, however it seems neither side is currently able to ascertain her current whereabouts. It might interest you to note that the Guild of Assassins has joined forces with the Coalition of Planets. Since most of the strongest telepaths were killed during the attack on Mikonos, the relay system has been virtually crippled, hampering the movements of ships between systems. As luck would have it, Benjamin Amavel of Y’chen and the Coalition’s ambassador to Y’chen are Class Zero telepaths. They’re spearheading the development of an emergency relay system for the time being.
“Impressive as always, Emanuel. Thank you.”
Gratitude? Well, that’s a rare sentiment coming from you, oh Revered One.
“Your bitter wit is appreciated, as always. Tell me, what of my fellow ancients?”
Ranella went to ground over a century ago. She has not been heard from since. Andromeda Five and Taytum Dras seem to be feuding with each other. Rumor has it, Taytum actually made an attempt on Andromeda’s life. Andromeda was forced to turn a blood contractee during that incident. Things might get very ugly between them soon.
Pras sighed. “That doesn’t sound encouraging at all. Nevertheless, attempt to arrange a meeting of the seven.”
Whereabouts?
“You secure a location. I will come to you--and Emanuel, a blood contractee, if you will.”
The humans populating the opposite hemisphere of Pras’ world were actually descendants of Pandora’s human crew and Pras’ former blood contractees. They’d willingly settled there when he first exiled himself to this tiny corner of the galaxy. Generations later, any fealty to the one who’d brought them to this place would have long since eroded.
Are your requirements the same as I recall?
“Mmmhmm,” he replied tiredly. The device was starting to take a physical toll.
Emanuel’s companion, apparently having had his fill, raised his head to stare curiously into Emanuel’s eyes.
There was that low, lazy laugh again. “Mind your own business, Gwyn.”
The boy, who couldn’t possibly be five decades past turning, ignored the order with a grin. His endless, gray eyes flashed with a mix of amusement and curiosity.
“Who is it?” He asked softly.
“My sire.” Emanuel’s answer came after a brief pause.
Gwyn’s mouth went round in a surprised, “Oh?”
Emanuel brought a thumb to the corner of his mouth, wiped away the trickle of blood that had spilled there. “Had enough then?”
With a drunken laugh, the younger man bent to captured Emanuel’s mouth in a greedily kiss.
Stay a while, Pras. Enjoy the show, why don’t you?
 |
 |
Pras disconnected abruptly. He removed the nodes and leaned closed his eyes. Aside from the physical effects of separation, there was an emotional toll. Isolating his mind from Emanuel’s left him feeling bereft, and unable to stem the return of the blinding despair that had overcome him earlier.
“Pandora, you heard what he said didn’t you?” When she said nothing. “How long you going to stay angry at me? Say something!”
“What do you want from me Pras? I no longer have the power to console you. No arms to hold you... No body to keep you warm...”
“Oh, just be quiet then!” he snapped testily angrily, startling her into silence. “Is this truly the worst I could have done? I was too late to save you and I will forever be sorry that this was all I could do for you.”
“I was captured because of my own arrogance. I let myself believe that I was a god, Pras--that I was untouchable. I deserved what I got. You should have let it go at that.” She answered softly. “You should have let me die.”
“I am not sorry for saving you however I could.” he hissed stubbornly. “I am not!”
Pandora laughed. “You’re such a child, Pras.”
He laughed low in his throat. He threw his head back and laughed, it’s seductive timbre resonating throughout the empty ship. “It is laughable, isn’t it? The mighty hunter of humans, brought low by a ruffian child from a backwater world.”
“That Emanuel sent assassins after me!”
“I remember. Look at him now. Time changes everyone, I suppose.” He contemplated the frozen image of Emanuel and Gwyn on the screen. “I would do it all again, you know. Bow before that child who carried the wisdom of ages in her blood, follow her to the end of the universe and back.”
There was a rude sound. “I think that’s what angers me most, Pras.” Pandora’s voice echoed outrage. “That child became a woman right before your eyes but you never even noticed!”
His laughter echoed throughout the ship. After a while, Pras sobered. “You realize what Emanuel didn’t say, don’t you?”
“Of course,” Pandora responded haughtily. After a moment she mused, “Imagine that. Another Nyacene emerging from the Amavel bloodline. That’s unprecedented, isn’t it?”
“Pandora...”
“You once swore that you would never allow me to venture back down this path again.”
“I did.”
“We once said we’d had enough of war and death.”
“We did.”
“But Pras... that child.”
He patted the console gently and changed the subject abruptly. “Tell me what you think of Nikol. I know you’ve been examining him this whole time we’ve been talking.”
There was a choked sound, then a chuckle. “You think I wouldn’t be curious about the man sleeping in your bed? He’s interesting,” she declared after a moment. “Do you love him?”
“That hardly matters now. Things have gotten complicated.”
“What’s more complicated than the fact that you haven’t taken his blood even once?”
Pras slumped back in his seat and sighed heavily. “He says he’s an agent of the Guild of Assassins.”
“Oh my,” Pandora murmured after a long, stunned moment. “You really can’t escape Fate, can you?”
Once, while he was sleeping, he’d awakened briefly. Nikol thought he’d heard a distant scream but the dragnet that Pras cast across his mind had pulled him back under. His eyes had fluttered shut, even as the ground beneath him shuddered briefly.
He woke to an eerie silence later, becoming fully alert in an instant. He sat up, out of habit--wincing before he realized that there was no pain. His injuries had healed, even where Pras had grabbed him roughly earlier. Nikol bent his arms and flexed his fists experimentally. There was no pain. Not even a twinge. Even the nasty wound in his side had healed completely. What sort of device did Pras possess, that could do a thing like this?
He lay still for a few minutes, certain that it was the unnerving lack of sound that had nudged him into wakefulness. Still sleeping for what felt like an eternity was enough to make anyone restless. He tugged his clothes on. He looked around with a frown. Where was Pras? His scent, a subtly deep and mysterious scent clung to the air.
His face scrunched into a thoughtful frown. It was the same, the scent of the man who’d first captured his heart five years before, yet it was different now. Disconcertingly different. Nikol had had to realign his perceptions so quickly, his heart seemed to be having some trouble catching up. There was a sudden, sharp pang. What Pras had said. That tortured light in his eyes.
He gravitated toward the large transparent window that filled the length and breadth of almost an entire wall. He parted the veils that kept the suite shrouded in darkness and was suddenly awash in the pale, pink rays of the mid-morning sun. He stood there for a while, watching the way the pastel rays played hide and seek with the gnarly and twisted boughs of a great tree. It dominated the great garden, which tilted on a sheer drop below the mansions leeward side.
At first glance, it was hard to discern whether it was by design or by blunder of nature that such a precariously balanced artifact existed. It was as if a shrub had sprouted out of the earth there, intending to become a tree. Perhaps it had hesitated as that chunk of earth began to tilt towards the sea. No longer certain of what it wanted to be, the sprout’s own indecision had driven it mad and it had become this wild, yet beautiful mess.
It was ragged, yet elegant. It was an insane work of art and a subtly brilliant feat of engineering. Balanced imperfection. Barely contained chaos. Just looking at it had always filled Nikol with such longing. His lips parted in sudden realization. The creation had Pras’ mark all over it but it was so old and seemed so at odds with the serene version of Pras that he’d come to know. This was... this was the truth and it had been staring him right in the face all along.
He touched the cool surface of the glass. What was wrong with him? He was an agent of the Guild of Assassins. How could he have overlooked something so obvious? A low wry chuckle escaped his lips. That too was obvious, wasn’t it? Blinded by lust. Blinded by his own heart. Even now. A wise man would get back in his ship and get as far away from this place as he could. Instead, he was more inclined to pay Pras back in kind for having given him the fright of his life.
Nikol turned away suddenly and frowned at the empty room suddenly. Just how long had Pras made him sleep?
Pras had left his weapon and other belongings on the floor for him to find when he awoke. He picked up his wrist console confirmed his fear with a groan.
“Hell...”
He’d been well aware that the remote relay point that he’d used to get here was on the verge of vanishing. The catastrophic attack on the Mikonos relay station had been one last, detrimental blow to what was left of the trans-galactic relay system. His window for returning had been very slim. It probably hadn’t been the best idea to try and come here in first first place but he’d had to see Pras, at least one last time.
If the relay point had really winked out, he’d had only two options left. Wait for another point to eventually appear, banking on the slim chance that the relay system would be restored any time soon; or go off in search of a relay point somewhere else in the outer territories. That wasn’t promising either. He could end up spending months in search of a single point at a time, relay hopping back to a Guild stronghold. He slipped out of the mansion quietly. At the very least he had to go back to his ship and confirm that he’d really missed his departure window.
Pandora adjusted her scanners to follow Nikol’s progress through the field. “You knew that would happen didn’t you?” Her accusation was matter of fact and she wasn’t really waiting for confirmation or denial.
Nevertheless, Pras shrugged. “The thought did cross my mind when he mentioned that the Mikonos relay station was destroyed. That’s the central hub isn’t it? It would make sense that the most remote relay points would die first.”
He knelt and pried another slat in the wall of the bridge open. “It wasn’t exactly a conscious decision to delay him. I didn’t bother to mention it to you, since it would take several days for you to be fully operational anyway,” he murmured, frowning at the mess of wiring he’d pulled out of the wall.
“So you made sure that even if he doesn’t accept you, there’s no way for him to leave you.”
Pras scowled. “When you put it that way...”
“And that’s why you’re still in here? Hiding. You realize, you will have to face him sometime?”
“Am am not hiding!”
He glared up at her nearest sensor point. “I just... think he needs some time.”
“Really?” She queried sweetly. “How much time did you have in mind, exactly? Centuries perhaps?”
Pras bit down on his bottom lip and scowled at the connections he’d just switched around. “You know,” he muttered. “You’re a mean bitch sometimes.”
Pandora’s focus shifted back to Nikol. He’d re-emerged from his ship and was strolling back towards the sanctuary. She didn’t care what Pras claimed. Any human, with or without latent telepathic ability who came into contact with him would have been able to sense that he was a predator by nature. He was too old and careless with his power to have been able to mask it completely. This meant that the pilot was either monumentally stupid or Pras hadn't been the only one keeping secrets.
She zeroed in on his face. It was strange. Beyond vague worry, he seemed untroubled. As he walked, he studied his surroundings with avid eyes. He didn’t seem mentally damaged or deficient. It didn’t make sense, that he seemed to be taking everything that had happened--even the loss of the relay, in stride. It wasn’t a quality one would find in the average human being.
The ability to adapt perfectly to any situation in which he found himself would require an abnormally high level of emotional dexterity. This would be the result of something deeper than special training. In fact, she would presume that it was this quality, which made him an asset to the Guild of Assasins. In all of her existence, Pandora had only encountered one particular type of human being, naturally possessing this particular subconscious mechanism. She shook her head mentally. She would wager her core that of the two men, it was Pras who’d been the obtuse blockhead right from the very start.
There was a sudden high wail from somewhere deep in the ship’s core, followed by a shudder that rocked the earth.
“Pras! What in the stars are you doing?”
“Minor misconfiguration,” he called out apologetically. “There, see? It should be better now.”
“I do not want you messing around with my insides until I’m fully operational and done running a complete diagnostic.”
“This will only take a few--”
“STOP TINKERING!”
