Kraken Mare (21 page)

I went numb. Not just the absence of pain type of numb, but ‘My foot’s asleep and I can’t feel it or walk’ kind of numb. Baptiste released his hold on my neck. I remained upright for about half a second before slumping to the floor in a heap.

“This power is truly amazing, Johnny. Frankly, I’m giddy with excitement. All this potential.” The prisoner hunkered down next to me, resting his chin on a palm. “Just think—in a few weeks, I’ll be anywhere I want to be, getting anything I ever wanted or dreamed about. Now there’s a thought—what do you think about a few hundred kids, some mini-me’s running around in about ten years? Introduce this little genetic quirk of mine into the gene pool. A few generations from now, and I’ll have a loyal army of supreme beings, all willing to do whatever they want. Homo Sapiens Sapiens would be supplanted as the dominant species. Homo Sapiens Baptiste, the new masters of destiny.” He paused, a twisted grin dominating his features. “The name may need some work, but you get the idea.”

The ghost fingers brushed across my mind again, and I felt the numbness recede. Not that it did me much good. You know that recovery period between your foot falling asleep and the ability to walk on it? Now imagine that, but all over. Warmth spread up from my toes to my knees as the feeling came back, intensifying as the seconds passed.

“How about those codes, Johnny?” Baptiste raised an eyebrow as pain erupted in my lower extremities. “I can do this all day, and night, and the next day…” Another twitch in my skull, and I could use my vocal cords again.

“Eat…shit…asshole…” It felt like my feet had been held in boiling oil, and the sensation was spreading.

“Hmm….” Baptiste said, tapping a finger on his chin. “Pain isn’t much of a motivator, it seems. Must be that hero worship we discussed earlier. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this again, but, well, you leave me no choice.”

The two remaining maintenance men marched into the room, stopping at crisp attention directly in front of me, each holding a pistol. The pain in my legs disappeared as suddenly as it had come.

“So here we are again, John, someone’s life in your hands. You remember what I can do, right?” At his words, the two men began to dance again, each placing his hands on his shoulders, forearms crossed at the chest before moving them behind their head. The prisoners dropped their hands to the opposite hip, again crossing their forearms, grabbed their ass and jumped. Behind them Kraken performed an intricate sequence of perfectly synchronized maneuvers, rings of the manta-like creatures weaving in and out of each other in time to Baptiste’s hand motions. “Just tell me the launch codes for the shuttles, and they stay alive a bit longer.”

The two mind-wiped prisoners raised their guns to their temples.

“Oh,” Baptiste continued, “I found your pet scientist as well. He’s currently holding a scalpel to his throat, just waiting for me to give him the word.”

I could wiggle my toes, but that was about it. Nothing else on my body was responding to my will. Granted, Baptiste had me dead to rights, even if I could move. The rifle was technically within reach, but for all intents and purposes, might have well been on a different planet. To make things worse, I had no way of knowing if the lunatic was bluffing about Isaac. I could probably justify letting the mind wipes die, for the short amount of time I had left, but knowing that I sacrificed the scientist?

Shit.

“You win, Baptiste.” The bitter words practically gagged me as they left my mouth. “You win. I’ll give you the codes.”

“I’m listening…”

God help me, I gave him the codes. I hated doing it, but the thought of being responsible for the deaths of the mind-wipes was too much. I had to, and I hated myself for it.

“That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?” Baptiste said, smiling.

Twin gunshots rang out in the room, each mind controlled man’s brains painting the other’s skull with pink gore.

“Goddammit, Baptiste! We had a deal!”

“True, we did. You were to locate Holomisa for me. You failed to do so.” False pity morphed his features into a parody of a sad puppy look. “This is all your fault, I’m afraid.”

Deep down, I knew he wasn’t going to let those men live, but there had been a glimmer of hope. That glimmer disappeared in a wave of guilt and fear. I looked over Baptiste’s shoulder to the window. The kraken had mostly disappeared, either driven away by Baptiste’s command, or scared off by his demonstration of cruelty and mental powers.
Can’t say I blame them
.

“That’s enough, Baptiste.”

The voice came from behind me, in the vicinity of the open cells. Apparently, it had shocked Baptiste enough to release his hold on me partially— the pain lessened slightly, allowing me to roll my neck around, and get a better look. I blinked, hard,
trying to clear the blurriness at the edge of my vision, not trusting my eyes.

Captain Emery Holomisa faded into view, seemingly coalescing from thin air as I stared at what had been a previously-empty spot in the cell.

“You want me,” he said, “You got me.”

Chapter Thirteen

The more I know about people, the better I like my dog

-Mark Twain

The former captain strode forward, stretching and rolling his shoulders. A panther uncoiling from a nap, he exuded casual grace as he moved, weight naturally on the balls of his feet, each step measured and careful. In comparison to his clean-shaven and groomed appearance, Baptiste looked like twenty miles of bad country road; I looked like something that had wandered in front of the car.

“Now’s your chance, Baptiste.” Holomisa brought his hands in front of him, one curled into a fist, the other, palm open and perpendicular to the floor. “You talk a big game. Can you back it up?”

Baptiste’s grin, frightening before, took the number one slot for my nightmares as it stretched across his face. Moving like a heavyweight champ, he reached in between his shoulder blades with one hand, then the other, before bringing both hands into a chin-level guard position. He bounced slightly, shifting from one foot to the other in rapid succession.

Holomisa’s breathing slowed—long deep breaths making his chest swell twice its size. He began an intricately paced series of hand motions.

The two men closed, measuring each other. Baptiste feinted, a pulled left jab that came nowhere near Holomisa, before a quick uppercut sought the other man’s chin. Holomisa didn’t look surprised, watching as the fist occupied the space his head had been only moments before, the motion becoming part of an open-handed strike to Baptiste’s Adam’s apple.

Baptiste rocked back, gagging, shaking off a blow that would have crippled a normal man.
He recovered quickly, anger flashing in his eyes as Holomisa began weaving his hands in front of him, still breathing slow and deep. Baptiste advanced, more carefully this time, keeping his elbows together, fists in front of his nose.

Holomisa’s hands stopped for a split second, seemingly leaving him wide open. Baptiste took the opportunity, throwing a jab towards the other man’s chin, following it with a hard right hook to the torso. Holomisa’s hands were flickers as he deflected both punches, redirecting the energy with graceful ease before lashing out with his foot. Baptiste staggered, breath leaving at the force of the kick to his stomach, doubling over slightly as he fought to regain his balance. Holomisa followed through with a heel to the temple.

The shot broke Baptiste’s concentration, causing him to lose his hold on my brain. The agonizing pain left me, as though a switch had been flipped. I slumped, drained.

Holomisa pressed his attack, two quick steps leading to a flurry of punches. Starting at the other man’s solar plexus, Holomisa worked his way up, finishing at the chin with a spinning elbow. He continued the movement while setting his feet, before grabbing Baptiste by the arm and heaving with a grunt of exertion. The look of shock on the monstrous prisoner’s face as he found himself airborne was almost worth the pain I felt.

Almost. I still hurt. A lot. Moving was the last thing I wanted to do, but the thought of being close enough to catch a badly aimed punch or kick gave me a good incentive to try.

The agony of trying gave me all the incentive I needed to stop.

Holomisa closed again, trying not to give Baptiste time to recover. Unfortunately, he was a fraction of a second too slow, the next strike whistling as it passed Baptiste’s ear.

Baptiste rolled, gaining his feet and deflecting Holomisa’s kicks with crossed forearms, before stepping in and throwing his weight into a head butt. The muffled crack of bone as his forehead connected with Holomisa’s was loud in the relative silence of the room.

The captain, slightly stunned at the sudden move, but still functional, turned his stagger into a sidestep, narrowly avoiding Baptiste’s wide haymaker that would have taken his head off if it had connected. He sidestepped again, allowing Baptiste’s momentum to carry him out of reach
and giving him room to breathe. Holomisa shook his head before returning to his relaxed ready position.

“You lack discipline, Baptiste, counting on brute strength and dumb luck to carry you through.” Holomisa watched the other prisoner as he slowly circled, his steps bringing his back into my line of sight. “That and what you think is unpredictable behavior.”

From my angle, it was difficult to see exactly what Baptiste tried—all I saw was Holomisa’s lightning fast blocks and redirects. He didn’t press, though, allowing the other man to exert himself with no reward. Holomisa was on the defensive, trying to keep himself between me and Baptiste.

I needed to move, soon, or risk becoming a weakness in the captain’s strategy. That, and I couldn’t expect Holomisa to finish this on his own. I’m all for a fair fight when needed, but there was no need for one today. I just had to wait until Baptiste was completely focused on his adversary.

Holomisa turned his head slightly and gave a small nod.

“I’m not even breathing hard, Lieutenant,” he said. “I knew you Navy spooks were soft, I just never thought you were
that
soft.”

I don’t think the sound Baptiste made could be replicated by any other living animal. At least not something native to Earth. He launched himself towards Holomisa, arms wide, fingers extended into claws. His face, still in its nightmare form, morphed and distended as his emotions played themselves out on the canvas of his skull.

Holomisa moved, flowing under and to the side of the leaping prisoner, hardly exerting himself as he grabbed an arm. The motion turned into a spin, launching the other man to the far side of the room.

Baptiste seemed ready for it this time, or at least able to adapt faster, turning in midair to land on his feet, facing away from me.

I took the opportunity to test the limits of my mobility, making it about six inches before I had to stop. Any effort to support myself was met with violent shakes and a massive spike in pain. Whatever Baptiste had done in my head was still lingering. I needed more time.

“You're weak, Baptiste,” Holomisa said,
walking forward as the other man spun around. “Always have been. You give in to the darkness because it's easy.” He dodged a swipe, easily dancing to the side and landing a jab on Baptiste's chin. “You see power as a way to produce fear.” Another jab. “Men like you always want the control, but not the responsibility that comes with it. That takes work,” he punctuated the word with a right cross, “strength,” -left hook- “and hardship.” He finished with a quick right-left combo, knocking Baptiste back a step. “You don't have what it takes.”

Holomisa sounded like a fucking Jedi. I would have loudly approved except, well, the pain. I did manage to gurgle out something that may have sounded like ‘Woo hoo,’ if you listened closely.

Baptiste grunted as he took two solid body shots, one to each kidney. Holomisa may be the more honorable man, but it didn’t mean he fought by the Marquis de Queensbury rules, it seemed. Baptiste swung, a haymaker that could have taken Holomisa’s head off had it connected, leaving him open for another punch to the torso. I heard bones crack, audible even over the sounds of the
fight. Baptiste recovered quickly though, catching the captain unaware, and scoring a nasty gash to Holomisa’s side. It was only the captain’s reflexes that saved him—a split second slower, and he’d have been gutted. Baptiste smiled, long tongue flicking over his fingers.

“You taste good, Captain.” He continued to lick the blood from his hand, appearing to savor each drop. “You have a lot of heart.” Baptiste brought his hand down sharply, the remaining blood splattering on the floor. “I can’t wait to eat it.”

Holomisa’s face became hard as the wound closed.

“Do your worst, Lieutenant.” He stepped forward, features set in grim determination. “I doubt it will be good enough.”

I became enraptured in the conflict. Granted, there wasn’t much else I could do—
any attempt at movement sent spasms through my legs, and my arms were damn near unresponsive. I took several breaths, as deep as I could make them, mentally and physically preparing myself for one last ditch effort.

Baptiste, even after all the punishment I had dished out, and on top of everything he was getting from Holomisa, was still fast, strong, and extremely deadly.

However, if Baptiste was fast, Holomisa moved like Mercury. Quicksilver strikes flowed into each other, making it difficult to determine where one ended, and the next began. I had only seen a fighter move like that in old Kung Fu movies. It was mesmerizing.

A feral howl of frustration and pain erupted from Baptiste as another of his punches failed to connect. Holomisa’s kick cut the sound short as it slammed into Baptiste’s lower jaw, knocking the lunatic backwards. He held the pose, one foot extended at eye level, both fists even with his hips, for about three seconds before lowering his leg slowly.

“Control should be exercised by a leader on himself before it will be accepted by his subordinates.” Holomisa was barely breathing hard. “Trying to control those around you, but not yourself, is the sign of someone who fears losing it. This is why you will fail, Baptiste.”

He watched with Zen-like calm as Baptiste caught his balance, shifted slightly, and rushed. Talons hissed through the air, narrowly missing the captain’s face and ribs as Holomisa danced out of reac
h. He was slowing down, though. A minor hesitation allowed Baptiste to counter a strike, opening up an opportunity to land a solid shot to the wounded side. Holomisa’s face paled briefly, before launching into a furious attack, hands and feet blurring into a kaleidoscope of motion. For every strike Baptiste blocked, two more made their way past his defenses. In desperation, Baptiste grabbed the other man, pulling him forward as he brought his forehead down. The impact bought him some space and time, allowing him to take a step back.

The ferocity of the assault had taken its toll—both men were gasping for air as they broke contact.

“I don’t understand you, Holomisa,” Baptiste’s words were labored, separated by short wheezing sounds. “What has anyone done for you in this life that demands your loyalty?”

“It’s a concept you can’t grasp. Honor.” He moved, watching the other man carefully. “You lack honor, Baptiste. You only see people as a means to an end, a tool to get what you want. It’s why your men hated you, your superiors hated you, and no one trusted you.”

“You’ve got a point, old man. I do have issues with ‘honor.’ It’s what allows me to do whatever it takes to win.” That nightmare grin reappeared. “Like this!”

Holomisa had misjudged his opponent slightly, allowing Baptiste enough room to maneuver. With a large step, he moved towards the closest desk, grabbing it under one end and heaving in one smooth motion. It flew in the captain’s direction, spinning on both the horizontal and vertical axis, giving Holomisa only one way out.

Holomisa dodged, a quick step to his right which placed him behind the projectile and a half second behind Baptiste. I could only watch in horror as Baptiste’s next two steps brought him within arm’s reach of me. My desperate lunge for the rifle fell short by a good foot.

Joy filled Baptiste’s eyes, echoing the laughing yell of triumph erupting from his throat as he reached for me.

Time seemed to slow, the murderous prisoner’s hand closing the distance between us in agonizing seconds, seemingly to prolong the dread of approaching doom. My traitorous legs wouldn’t find purchase on the floor, skittering across the smooth surface as I tried to get any amount of space I could. Baptiste’s talons locked on my foot.

Holomisa’s angle of attack was wrong, but the only one he could take. He leapt, extending one foot in front of him, the other curled under. It was the opening Baptiste had been waiting for. The trap was laid, Holomisa had no choice but to walk into it.

A quick step forward and the kick missed. No matter how good Holomisa was, he still couldn’t fight the physics of a flying kick. You just can’t change directions in mid-air. Baptiste’s other hand locked on Holomisa’s ankle, becoming a fulcrum for the other prisoner, using the forward motion of the flying kick to slam him to the floor. Holomisa tucked, taking the impact on his shoulder and rolling to his feet

Directly into Baptiste’s combo.

The uppercut snapped Holomisa’s head backwards, stunning him and putting him in perfect position to take the overhand punch square in the teeth. Holomisa dropped like a sack of potatoes, stunned by the ferocity of the attack. Another scream of triumphant joy from Baptiste heralded his final assault.

Kick after kick pummeled Holomisa’s body, a nonstop barrage of violence that left the downed man broken and bloody.

“Where is your self-righteous indignation now?” Bloody froth dripped from Baptiste’s jaws as his teeth tore into his lips and tongue. He didn’t seem to notice, focused as he was on his raving. “You could have ruled with me,
Captain
! But you had to cling to your precious
morals!”

He reached down, taking the other man by the throat. I watched in horror as his free arm reformed, skin peeling back, the bones of his hand and wrist fusing together. In seconds, what used to be a hand became a wide, flat blade.

It was now or never. I lunged again, screaming as the pain tore through my body. Every nerve ending erupted in fire as I closed my hand around the rifle’s grip and brought it around.