I stared at Mong as if he were an instrument of lunacy. “What sick fuck would even think of doing that?”
“You judge me, Rusco,” said Mong. “Remember, judgment is a dangerous thing.”
“Where’s Blest?” I growled at him. “You plug him in one of these tanks?”
“Blest is currently occupied, redeeming his sins. He raised firepower against me. For that he must suffer.”
I winced at the implications. So, Mong’s hints suggested that Blest was beyond saving.
“Move out,” he commanded.
Hadruk and two others motioned me away from the altar and we trudged down a windowless corridor located behind the altar. Guards prodded me from behind. The light dimmed. I could feel Hadruk’s rank breath on my neck.
I heard then a woman’s scream. A man’s hearty laugh followed and a heavy slap. I turned to see a flash of reddish-gold hair, a figure like Lady Volia’s suddenly pushed through a half-opened, double-door in carved teak.
Mong grinned. “Perhaps if you are well-behaved, Rusco, you may experience some of my Orpheum’s pleasures one day. ’Tis a novelty.”
Almost at the same time I saw a figure who looked like Blest hauled into another room. I could only guess that each victim would be taken to task in the most practical way. The Temple of Light… What a fucking joke! Temple of Pain. Fane of the Loony Tune.
“Perhaps you’ll want to rename your hallowed shrine to ‘Temple of the Deranged’,” I said.
“Deranged. Very good, Jet Rusco, perhaps that is one way of seeing it, but I hope you will be convinced otherwise.” He brandished a fist. “Come! The hour is late.” He beckoned with a sweep of arm, his voice resuming that cordial earnest mockery that I’d come to detest about Mong.
He drew me aside, his jaw working as if dissatisfied with my attitude toward one so great.
“You have potential, Rusco, but your sly sneaking and vindictive brooding erodes your sense of reality. You are like an old woman trying to get one up on everyone she thinks has slighted her. It’s unhealthy. It has made you gaunt and unlikeable, like an old crow cawing for the cheese it cannot have. Withdraw from the past and embrace the future.” He raised his hand in a righteous flourish. “’Tis a healthy, healing attitude. My program can help you on the path of your journey toward enlightenment.”
“Gee, Mong, would you do that for me? And I only wanted a nice ride away from a nuthouse, on a starship, at first available convenience.”
He tsked, shook his head with a screwball gleam in his eye. “Impossible, dear Rusco, I’m afraid you’re quite disillusioned into hoping for such a fantasy. Once a guest’s landed at Othwan, there is no going back.”
I swallowed, the thought chilling me, even more than a prolonged death at the hands of this psycho, a lunatic of lunatics.
“Let us test out the amalgamator. I’m sure it will be of interest to you.”
Chapter 17
Mong’s men transported the amalgo to the farthest room at the end of the hall and set it in a prominent position against the back wall. It looked like a new-fangled electric radiator. Didn’t seem to require any mechanical tweaking either; the flat facing plates continued to radiate their infernal green glow. The plates were wide enough to fit three men striding abreast, no more. None of the others spoke as Mong remained deathly silent for a time. He stared off into space like a Sphinx. “Ever am I searching for their lost worlds,” he intoned. “I can use this device to find them. Maybe acquire more samples and apparatuses that will help me resurrect their hallowed race.”
A sick feeling grew in the pit of my stomach. For what purpose and at what cost?
Mong nodded to Hadruk who withdrew a light oxygen mask from his side pack. Then he tossed it to me. “Put it on.”
Mong inclined his head to Hadruk. “Give me gauze.”
Hadruk handed him a roll. Friend Mong tore off a strip, spat on it and tossed it at me. “Look after that hand, Rusco.”
Grumbling foul words, I wrapped the stuff around my left claw. Hadruk accelerated the process by forcing the mask’s straps around the back of my head with no gentle hands.
“Hey, watch it,” I warned.
“Shut up,” he grunted.
“As for what lies on the other end of this warphole—” Mong shrugged, held up a palm. “It is a gift, I give you, Jet Rusco, to be first to venture to an unknown realm. The first to explore a new world, a place of vast potential, or perhaps terror and eerie surprise. A crap shoot. Perfect for a hustler like yourself.”
I gave a mocking salute while managing a sick grin. “I know, Mongo, why risk your own balls when some expendable stooge can risk theirs?”
“On the contrary, Mr. Rusco, Balt will accompany you on this important mission.”
“Good ole Balt? Really? Is he up to it?”
Balt stammered, licked his lips. “Sir, I’m hardly the best choice for the mission. Hadruk is much more qualified—”
“No arguments, Balt. I have thought the matter through. Are you ready?”
“I must prepare my war gear, lord—”
I put on a sour face and pushed forth. “I must freshen up and take a few things with me, like some Black Dog ale and a pint of regen—”
Mong shoved me through with a vicious snarl. I staggered between the space enclosed by the parallel plates and was gone in a second.
Harsh, strident sounds buzzed in my
