“It’s Void-tech,” I said. “Whatever it is, it’s powerful.”
The sensation suddenly stopped, and the tower became eerily quiet.
“How does he do that?” Beatrix asked. “How does he know what we are saying?”
“He’s probably got microphones all over the place,” Reaver said. “Did you notice how many self-important people were staying in the palace? I’m sure Tortengar made them feel spoiled like all they had to do was run their business, eat the food, and live a life of comfort while he managed the intricate details and affairs of his city. In reality, he was probably keeping them here to make it easier to spy on them.
“And the people thinking he’s a brilliant leader, always a step ahead of them. Any plots to overthrow him would be dealt with before the ink could dry. Wouldn't be the first time.”
“If he were a good leader,” Beatrix said, “he would not need to spy on his people. They would come to him. He would trust them.”
“What we saw in the city proved he’s a bad leader,” I said. “We didn’t need any more evidence than that. Any leader who won’t take care of his people or empower them to take care of themselves is a bad leader. He allows them to suffer just that so he can live in luxury. He enslaves them and profits from slavery, which by itself is enough reason to kill him.”
“He’s also an asshole,” Reaver added.
We all laughed.
Near the top of the staircase, the door to Tortengar’s throne room came into view. It was open, revealing the opulence of the room beyond.
The floor was flagstone with sparkles of lightning-blue stone scattered throughout. The part of the wall we could see was covered in richly colored tapestries that showed scenes of some hero defeating various monsters. The hero, dressed in gold and red, was depicted as handsome while his opponents were terrifying in stature. I could only assume it was supposed to be Tortengar, though someone who’d really defeated as many enemies wouldn’t have tapestries made of the events. If anything, he’d have his enemies’ heads mounted on his wall.
Beneath the tapestries were fine wooden chests with big gold locks on them. Inside, I guessed, was the wealth of the people, kept from them by their greedy dictator. If the rest of the walls were occupied with similar-sized chests, there could be enough treasure to purchase an entire planet.
I looked forward to returning it to the citizens. For good or bad, they would have the choice of what they wanted to do with it. Either way, it would get the money moving again.
The room itself looked to be about twelve yards wide. I couldn’t see around the corners, but I did feel a slight breeze. There was a window or door open to the main palace somewhere in the room.
“Don’t be shy,” a voice, much higher-pitched than the one that came from the speakers, said. “Come in.”
I glanced over my shoulder at my warrior companions. They smiled predatory grins, adjusted the grip on their weapons, and waited for my command.
“Try not to kill him,” I reminded them. “It’ll be hard to get him to answer questions if his brains are splattered across the floor.”
“No promises,” Reaver said.
I leapt into the room, tucked into a roll, and heard a snap of power behind me. When I sprang to my feet, I found a four-armed alien dressed in red and gold, wearing a multi-pointed hat. He was sitting in a high-backed black chair a dozen feet away, which I hadn’t been able to see from outside the room. His eyes were white marbles except for the yellow edges, as if he were jaundiced. There were no irises I could identify, and the pupils were large.
His skin was the color of violets, if the flowers were kept in a dark room and hadn’t been watered for a long time—more gray than anything else. The nails on his long fingers were manicured, long, and pointy.
Behind him was a doorway that opened onto a small balcony.
When I looked around, I found my companions were locked out of the room by a forcefield, which darkened and became almost opaque when Beatrix struck it with her hammer.
“I assure you,” Tortengar said, his voice eerily calm, “your friends will never make it into this room. Nobody ever has, without my permission.”
I pretended to cast a mournful glance at the women doing their best to fight their way through the forcefield. Beatrix had stopped hammering on it, and Reaver was blasting it with her rifle. Neither appeared to be having any positive effect, and none of it was making any noise at all.
What I was really doing, though, was inspecting the room. Somewhere, there had to be a shield generator. It would be protected, I knew, but not as well protected as the room itself. If I could find it, I could drop the shield and allow my reinforcements to enter. Judging by their angry frowns, I was certain I’d have to remind them again not to kill Tortengar until I had the information I needed.
The dictator leaned back in his chair, drummed the fingers of one hand on the armrest, and steepled the fingers of two others while he stared at me. “Not so tough when you don’t have your—”
I’d heard enough. I snapped my pistol up and fired. The blast of energy was absorbed and dissipated by some kind of energy shield. Blue sparks danced across its invisible surface for a full second after the shot failed to reach him.
Torgengar flinched, inspected himself, then laughed.
“You see?” he said as he waved his hands about the room. “You have no power here. You can’t kill me. I am Tortengar. I command Thaz’red, and soon, the entire planet!”
A dull, steady thrum snapped both of our heads toward the doorway. Sparks flew in time with the low beats.
“It would seem,” I said, turning back to the dictator, “that your time
