Page 22 of Advance and Retreat (Dark Empire #6)

As her thoughts spun on in a whirlwind of fury and bruised dignity, Laughter caught herself eyeing a nearby open-air club. Black-haired Kalquorians and humans drank and mingled together in various levels of soberness. All appeared quite happy, and no one lacked a glass.

I wouldn’t mind knocking back a few...dozen. The temptation to drown her troubles in liquid forgetfulness slowed her feet and turned them toward the club.

To make your dreams happen, you must remain responsible at all times. You never know when opportunity might knock...or when letting go into recklessness could knock opportunity away.

Her father’s voice in her head stopped her in her tracks. He’d missed out on his dreams, dreams Laughter had come to share. Dreams they’d almost made come true together.

She turned from the club. Her steps headed her to the room she’d rented instead, resolutely taking her away from the siren call of trouble.

* * * *

J edver

––––––––

T he Mereta will die this evening.

Mereta hoped the sudden quickening of his heartbeat was due to his Dark rider as the All gave its command. Hadn’t he come to terms with death years ago? It was merely a transition from this life to the next.

If the Dark noted the momentary rising of his pulse as odd, it didn’t seem to attribute it to anything in particular. Perhaps it hadn’t noticed. How is it to happen?

Two Kalquorian prisoners will be used to assassinate the Mereta, then be killed themselves by Galactic Council security officers.

It will happen during a scheduled vid speech the Mereta is to give to those planets remaining allied to the governing body.

It will help convince more of the Separates they should remain allied to the council, and therefore quiet the protests against the leaders controlled by the All.

Some will see the All’s presence on those involved in this plot.

No matter. It will confuse those who don’t see. Their questions will cause chaos, which is to the advantage. It is good.

It is good.

Mereta detected a slight hesitation before his rider’s response. Did it have questions of its own?

It did. After his death this portion shall rejoin the All?

No. Another Separate will be occupied.

A definite hesitation. It is good.

His rider’s reluctance was of no matter. The Dark would obey the All’s decision and offer Mereta up for sacrifice.

He considered his position. Death would be preferable to the half-life he’d been relegated to. He could at last join the all-pervading Spirit from which the universe had been birthed and exist in perfect tranquility for eternity. It was a tempting notion.

However, his was not the only fate being decided.

Perhaps his end prescribed by the All was as ordained by destiny.

On the other hand, the harm to his dimension’s civilization couldn’t be ignored.

Causing no harm nor allowing harm to be caused if he had the power to prevent it was a valued tenet in his faith.

Mereta had valuable information on the All, which Kalquor and its allies could use to defend themselves. Perhaps they could even vanquish their enemy if they knew what he’d learned. To be true to his beliefs, he must attempt to flee to the empire and share his intelligence.

The moment his Dark’s telepathic connection to the All ended, Mereta sent it sensations of safety and belonging, those elements it missed most by its separation from its home in the All.

It sank into the peace it craved above all else.

It was easy to goad it deep into the recesses of Mereta’s mind, where his own serenity resided untroubled by outer circumstances.

He wasn’t sure how conscious it was of what was happening when he submerged it in such a fashion.

It hadn’t yet questioned Mereta’s activities when he assumed control, as he did now.

It went willingly enough, as if escape were all it wanted.

He had sometimes sensed it reaching for the serenity he gave it when it commanded his body.

Few beings who’d been given a glimpse of the utter peace of Universal Spirit didn’t desire to remain in its tranquility.

His Dark quiet and still, Mereta rose from his desk. He left his office, strolling the corridor purposefully but not in panic.

His time was short, and he had much to do. Fortunately, he had a head start. He’d already packed a few belongings during a previous period of resuming command of himself. He’d claim them. From there, he’d attempt to reach a shuttle bay, commandeer a craft, and leave Jedver.

Logic dictated he had no chance of a successful getaway. His vow of harmlessness and service to others insisted he try for the good of those who didn’t deserve extinction. If he could, he must put off the ultimate liberation of his soul for their sakes.

* * * *

P iras couldn’t move his gaze from the nano’s closeup of Mereta’s face. “Is it me, or does he suddenly look different? Like he was before the Darks?”

The undercurrent of anger and despondency Mereta usually wore had vanished. Only the crease between the secretary-general’s brows betrayed anything besides peace in his aspect. He appeared to again be the spiritual master Piras had known him as.

“That isn’t all. The Dark on him is less...present. Hazier and thinner, somehow.” Lokmi’s tone was awed.

“You’ve never seen this happen to the ridden?”

“Never.”

The nano kept pace as Mereta drifted quickly but serenely through Galactic Council headquarters. When he paused to answer an aide’s question, the sneering quality he’d spoken with since they’d begun their surveillance was gone as well.

Hope uttered a startled noise.

“What is it?” Piras asked.

“The second voice...the Dark’s telepathy. I can’t hear it. It’s just him . Mereta.”

“What the hell is happening?” Kila growled.

“I don’t know. Could he have shaken off the Dark’s influence? Is he in control?” Piras aimed his questions at Hope.

“How would it be possible?” She shrugged helplessly as Mereta continued on his way, appearing to head for the exit. “I heard the Dark perfectly well earlier.”

“We need to know about the plot you said it referred to,” Kila said. “It sounded like the All is up to something big. Didn’t the Dark say something about his death?”

“It did, but I didn’t get any details.”

“We have to reach Mereta. We have to talk to him.”

Piras’ clanmates turned from the vid feeds to stare at him. “Talk to him?” Kila spluttered. “He’s ridden by a Dark. You might as well tell the All itself we’re on the planet.”

The Dramok pointed at their subject. “That isn’t the Dark. It’s Mereta. He has command of himself right now. I’d bet a year’s pay on it.”

“You’re betting a hell of a lot more. You’re betting our lives if you think we can walk up to him and have a conversation.” Kila stared at him as if he’d lost his mind.

“Not to mention roaming the city to reach him. We’d be caught before we got one hundred feet from this building,” Lokmi added.

“We have to try.” Piras insisted. “Look at him. Look! This is the chance we’ve been waiting for.”

“I think Piras is right,” Hope said, though her tone was reluctant. “We came to pull Mereta out. Whatever is going on with the Dark, it’s got to be in our favor.”

“Insanity,” Kila muttered.

Mereta had reached the building’s shuttle bay. A security guard greeted him, and he answered.

“No second voice,” Hope confirmed. She glanced at Piras. “You need to get to him in a private setting. Somewhere no other Darks are present or could happen by.”

“His home. Guards patrol the outside, but they’re never allowed in. None we’ve observed are Dark-ridden either.”

“Sure, great. There are still plenty of Darks prowling around between here and there though,” Kila insisted. “How do you propose we get all the way to his house, Piras? It’s miles off.”

Mereta was on the move again, walking faster toward the shuttle they’d learned was his. He was forced to pause as a hovercart laden by bins passed in front of him.

A desperate idea flashed in Piras’ head. He considered it only a bare second. He pulled his com out and clicking Elcoger’s frequency, which would go straight to the Dantovonian’s earpiece. It would keep anyone in his vicinity from hearing Piras’ end of the conversation.

A brief beep responded to let him know Elcoger was listening.

“How would you like to make twice the amount of money we’re paying you?” Piras transmitted.

* * * *

M ereta was in sight of the small dwelling he used as his home on Jedver.

So far, no one, including the All, had evidenced concern over his unscheduled departure from his office.

Why should they? He was Dark-ridden, supposedly in thrall to his constant companion’s influence.

He was also the conduit through which the All received most of its news on the far-flung planets these days.

Nonetheless, he acknowledged relief to have made it this far.

He passed his closest neighbor’s home, an Alneusian ambassador’s aide. He sent silent gratitude to her, though she was certainly not at home. Dark-ridden herself, she’d nonetheless unwittingly provided part of the means for his potential escape from the planet.

He noted a delivery shuttle leaving a massive bin outside her front door and set his sights on his own quarters. It resided in a neighborhood occupied mostly by assistants and aides to Galactic Council representatives.

The usual residence of the secretary-general was a palatial mansion on top of a hill overlooking similar grandiose abodes of government elites.

Mereta had no use for opulence. He found peace and happiness in the simple life, where gratitude for the smallest pleasures could be properly appreciated.

His request for the five-room house he’d taken as his home while he served the planets of the Galactic Council had been met by varying reactions, from appreciation to horrified disbelief.

He’d concerned himself with none of the opinions given.

His Dark wasn’t interested in whether he had a palace or a shack either. It only wanted to finish its business so it could return to the All.

It remained in a blissful state of contentment, its host’s actions of little concern as it drifted in the true version of all there was, as Mereta experienced it.

It had moments of passing curiosity in why it had decided to leave the office but returning to where its host body slept was fine.

As long as it could remain in the tranquility where separation from the All ceased to be agony, it experienced no worry about what was happening.

Mereta flew his shuttle into its berth and closed the hatch against anyone who might spot it and wonder why he was home at such an hour. The more he could avoid notice, the better his chances.

He hurried into the house. He’d made it as much an oasis as possible for a temporary abode.

Paintings and tapestries depicted restful landscapes, an altar on which candles and fragrant incense waited to be burned, soft but supportive floor cushions perfect for meditation decorated his combination greeting and common room.

He glanced at the closet door across the room.

He checked on the Dark. It was bemused, again wondering offhandedly why it had chosen to be here.

He sent it a wave of absolute serenity, drawing on his connection to Universal Spirit.

It gave itself to the quiet and lost conscious awareness of Mereta’s surroundings.

He went to the closet and ordered it open. Inside, he grabbed a utility belt, its pouches full of tools, a couple of emergency rations, and a knife. He eyed the latter uncomfortably, but he’d serve the greater good if he absolutely had to. He hoped it wouldn’t come to such extremes.

He strapped it around his waist. It was too bulky to be completely hidden by his jacket, but it was as inconspicuous as he could manage. He didn’t dare try fleeing while dragging a travel bin with him.

Counting the items he’d already stored on his shuttle, he was as ready to try for freedom as he could manage. Mereta turned from the closet.

He was confronted by a man who’d stolen up behind him.