Read Stackpole, Michael A - Dark Conspiracy 03 Online
Authors: Evil Triumphant
Stackpole, Michael A - Dark Conspiracy 03 (6 page)
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thing
s of fantasy, Fiddlebackhad kindled in me a belief that total purity could be gained through ab
lution.
Physical cl
eanliness became linked with mental, emotional and spiritual purity for me.
I had lived my first life in this suite. The open construction had its utilitarian aspect, but it also served to do one other thing. It denied me privacy and, growing up without it, 1 felt no need for it. Likewise, the lack of personal possessions worked to do exactly
what Fiddleback wanted. It allowed him to create in me an agent of considerable skills with so
malleable a sense of self that I could go and become anything or anyone for the purpose of carrying
out Fiddleback's bidding.
This lack of personal identity proved vital for Fiddleback and me. Because of it, I was able to slip
between dimensions like a shark moving through still water. Since I did not have a strong sense of
self, greed and a need for personal power was not something 1 developed. Fiddleback correctly
guessed that he could train me in things the way he had trained Pygmalion, butsincemy identity came
as a reflection of Fiddleback, 1 would never rebel. As long as I was in his control, I could not and
would not rebel.
There Fiddleback's incredible arrogance failed him. Coyote, my predecessor and possibly the first
Coyote, anticipated my being used in Phoenix. He initiated an elaborate plan that forced me to
discover my own identity. Following clues he laid out for me, and building upon the basic virtues
with which I had been raised, I created the persona of Tycho Caine. I discovered I was a highly
skilled assassin and, while looking at the world through the glimpses of it that Coyote provided, 1
discovered that the person I had become did not want to have anything to do with Fiddleback and his
machinations.
My first life, the life I had lived in this place, had ended when Coyote had me kidnapped and
chemically induced amnesia in me. Out of Fiddleback's control, I had found my true self. The loyalty
which had kept me bound to the Dark Lord had been changed over into a loyalty for my fellow
human beings, and that led me to oppose the creature that had created me. That opposition started me
on my second life, and that second life
included taking up the mantle of the man who had given me that second life.
I became Coyote and rediscovered the powers that I had been given by Fiddleback. As Coyote, I made
them work for me, and that proved to be to Fiddleback's detriment. If not for the intervention of
Pygmalion, Fiddleback might have destroyed me. As it was, Pygmalion made off with a prize that meant
my old master and I had to join forces or both be consumed by whatever grand plot Pygmalion had
devised.
The suite to which I had come felt familiar, and I hungered for that. 1 knew my surroundings would not
seduce me back to Fiddleback. They would, however, provide me some peace, and that, in turn, would
allow me to concentrate and rest. Both of those things were vital because the game we would play out
over the next few months would not forgive mistakes or condone stupidity.
Our penalty for failure would be death. My reward for success would be surviving to again oppose
Fiddleback.
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I kicked
off my shoes at the door. In stocking feet I walked to the back and lay down on the sleep
ing mat.
I set my watch
's alarm for five hours and hoped for a peacefu
l sleep. I knew that when I awakened and
we started the planning for the campaign against Pygmalion, peace was the last thing I would have for a
long time.
I emerged from my sanctuary after a dreamless nap and soothing bath. Wearing a green shirt and cuffed
black slacks, I headed through the GalBro complex until I reached the briefing room in which the first
planning session was to take place. The long, narrow room had been filled to capacity, with everyone
finding a seat around the lozenge-shaped maple table.
I patted Tadd Farber on the shoulder as I worked my way past him and toward the front. Aside from the
people I had seen earlier in the day, others associated with the effort to oppose Fiddleback had assembled for the planning session. 1 took a mental census of the room and felt a momentary bit of embarrassment
as 1 realized I was the last person to arrive before we could begin.
Standing next to the Yidam's daughter, I saw Sinclair MacNeal, a tall, handsome young man whose
family owned the largest construction contracting company in Arizona. He had been my agent in Japan
and had located the Galactic Brotherhood while I had been training in Tibet. Fiddleback had pierced the
secret of his identity and would have killed him had Rajani not intervened on his behalf.
Rajani stood between the Yidam and Sin, but remained closer to the dark-haired human that her own
father. Like the Yidam, her flesh was jet black, but her eyes shared the same golden hue as her
fingernails. Though her yellow blouse and blue sweater hid her arms, on the backs of her hands I could
see the tattooed gold lines that ran from her fingernails along the backs of her fingers and on up her arms.
Her blond hair had been pulled back into a pony-tail and would have made her look like any college co-
ed had she a more carefree expression on her face.
Reaching the head of the table, I nodded to the group of people. "Thank you for coming here this
evening. I especially appreciate Lt. Colonel Yoshirnitsu Asano leaving his hospital bed to be here." I bowed my head at the bandage-swathed member of the Japanese emperor's Internal Defense Cadre. "The
emperor's support and the role of the IDC will be vital if we are to succeed."
"Our task can be summarized in rather simple terms—stop Pygmalion and recover from him the
emperor's grandson, Ryuhito. Accomplishing this task will be far from easy, and I know some of you
have already begun to work on aspects of what we will need to do to succeed. As always, any job can be
accomplished with two of the following three elements: It can be done quickly, it can be done
inexpensively and it can be done perfectly. Luckily forus, with the emperor's resources and the resources of Lorica Industries, expense is not a consideration. Bear this in mind as you plan—no reasonable request for equipment or personnel will be denied."
I pulled out the chair in front of my place at the table. "Clearly, though, the first step in dealing with Pygmalion is learning who and what he is. Any insight we can get into his personality will make
destroying him more and more possible." 1 hit a button hidden beneath the edge of the table that lowered a panel at the far end of the room. Behind it, a video screen blinked to life with a blank blue field
displayed on it. "Jytte, if you want to begin the briefing."
The statuesque blond woman nodded stiffly. By any but the most twisted standard, Jytte would have been
identified as being gorgeous. She eschewed cosmetics and jewelry and wore her hair unadorned and
loose, so it fell to mid-back. Her dark eyes flashed with fearful intelligence, as if she were a wild creature
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trapped in a most beaut
iful cage. Her gray jumpsuit had been tailored for a man and likely had been
chose
n in an attempt to make her more androgynous and less appealing, but it failed.
Jytte Ravel pointed a remote control at the screen, and a picture flashed up on it. A black-and-white
snapshot that had to have been taken back in the mid-
20th century, it showed a smallish child wearing a cowboy hat, checked shirt, jeans and a pair of toy
pistols holstered on his hips. "This is Nicholas Hunt in 1957. He is 4 years old in this picture. It was taken at his family home by a relative."
Jytte's voice came almost as mechanically as the motion with which she punched the remote's buttons.
"This shot is an X-ray of Nicholas Hunt's skull. It was made approximately a month after the picture you just saw. You will note that the right side of his head has been broken. The cheekbone was dislocated in
the fracture and a portion of the skull fracture is depressed, right there, above his right ear. Because of the level of medical technology at the time, the skull fragments were removed and a metal plate was inserted
to replace them."
Another slide flashed up. It showed Hunt a couple of years later and struck me as a mugshot, but 1 knew
it had to have been a school portrait. The boy in the picture had a lopsided smile and his right eye
remained half closed. He appeared to me to be nervous. 1 could almost feel his uneasiness at having his
picture taken.
"As you can see," Jytte explained emotionlessly, "the injury left him with significant left-right facial and cranial asymmetry. In addition to that, the brain damage done by the injury made Nicholas lisp ever so
slightly. Those who actually knew him and went to school with him recall his childhood having been
difficult. Children are cruel to those who are different..."
Jytte's voice changed, and 1 looked over at her. She still held herself tightly, but I heard anger and sorrow bleed into her voice. I knew she had none for Pygmalion because she hated him more than even I
despised Fiddleback. Her comment had been for herself, and
that surprised me because she had never even admitted to remembering her own childhood, much less
talked about it.
"Hunt was nothing if very bright, and his social exile meant he spent a great deal of time with books. His home life was no more appealing than his schooling. While his family claimed he had broken his skull in
a fall, most people believed his alcoholic father had beaten him. His mother promptly divorced his father and moved away. She took refuge in religion and became involved in a repressive Christian cult called
People of the Cross."
Jytte's voice became cold and clinical as she described the sect Pygmalion's mother had joined. "People of the Cross believed that Jesus had attained his divinity through the tortures he suffered during his
capture, trial and execution. The group's megaloma-niacal leader, Tilden Tyler, built a theology around
personal denial, torture, starvation and deprivation. Members believed that they would attain divinity
when they had proved their worthiness by subjecting themselves to the sort of punishments Jesus had
endured. Through accepting enough pain, they believed, all their sins
and
their Original Sin would be forgiven, returning them to the original state of grace which meant divinity, since God
had
created man
'in his image.'"
