Then it hit me.
And the realization was worse than being clobbered with a shally stick.
The Mayir had everything now.
Not only did they have control of the repository on Bandala and the Kryrk, but now they possessed all the artifacts the Sean bot had stowed about the Vostok.
Who knew what kind of power was locked away in those crates?
It was hard to judge time, sitting there on an ice-cold floor, in the pitch darkness. I had dozed off several times, only to wake with cramped muscles and a frozen butt.
At some point, the lights blazed on suddenly and we were all blinded.
“Beck, get on your feet!” The voice was hard.
When I didn’t move quick enough, I got a sharp kick in the side that almost caused me to vomit.
Powerful arms hauled me to my feet and I was dragged from the cell by two commandos.
“Wish me luck, ladies,” I murmured to Chiraine and Narcissa.
“Shut the fuck up,” one of the commandos growled as she shoved me into the corridor. The other slapped a pair of stun-cuffs on me and powered them on.
My eyes adjusted to the light quickly enough and I saw that I was in a narrow corridor lined with cells—maybe eight or ten. That was a lot of detention cells. All were empty save the one I had just come from.
As I was marched forward, I got a look at the two commandos. One male, one female. Both mean-looking. They were clad in crimson flight suits and armed with K-45s and shally sticks. One walked by my side, and the other placed herself directly behind me. It was standard formation for transporting a hostile.
We traveled through a maze of mostly-empty corridors before arriving at a bank of lifts. This ship had a lot of capacity, but I didn’t see a lot of crew. Maybe they were all on Bandala sorting through crates.
I had a lot of questions, but I also didn’t want to get zapped again, so I kept my mouth shut.
The lift took us up to the command deck, which was more populated with uniformed Mayir. No one really gave me a second look, though.
They just marched me through, then down a narrower corridor guarded by four crimson legionnaires, the Mayir’s elite soldiers. We stopped outside of a reinforced door and one of the legionnaires mumbled something unintelligible into his comm.
A moment later the door opened and I was ushered into a richly-appointed office that wouldn’t be out of place in Beck Salvage’s headquarters.
A number of crimson-suited officers stood around a desk where a corpulent man with reddish-orange hair sat. From the officers’ deferential stance, it was clear that the fat man was the one in charge.
“Jannigan Beck, sir, captured on Yueld,” one of the legionnaires announced.
“Beck, huh?” The fat man regarded me with close-set beady eyes that had a feral look about them. “Any relation to Sean Beck?” He spoke in a loud, grating voice.
“I’m his son.”
No sooner did the words escape my lips, when the closest guard elbowed me in the gut. “You will address the Field Marshall with respect, scum!”
I took a deep breath, trying to push through the pain.
“I’m his son, sir.”
“Well, then, my condolences to you.”
“What?”
“I was informed that we attempted to revive your father, but he did not survive the karokinesia procedure.”
“No!” Anguish stabbed through me.
“There was nothing to be done. Believe me, we would have very much liked to have spoken with the great Sean Beck.”
“You’re lying!”
“Why would I bother lying to someone like you?” he asked. “Sean Beck is dead.”
As the words sank into my brain, I felt all my muscles turn to jelly. I slumped down and would have fallen, if not caught by the soldiers at my elbows.
“Put him in a chair,” the fat man ordered.
As they dumped me in a fine wormcloth upholstered chair, I heard the fat man prattle on, but I was so overwhelmed I couldn’t pick out any individual words.
How could this have happened?
My father…dead.
After all we had been through. I crumbled inside.
“I asked you a question,” the fat man said imperiously.
“What?”
My ignorance earned me another blow from one of the guards. I tasted blood in my mouth, but I didn’t care. All I could think about was my father.
“I said, do you know who I am.”
“No idea…sir.”
“I am Molda Prundt, Field Marshall of the Mayir Crusader Party.”
I wanted to say ‘goody for you,’ but I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t want to get smashed in the face again.
“I understand it was you who originally found the Shimese weapon.”
“If you are referring to the Kryrk, then yes. Sir.” I had to shield Chiraine, Ana-Zhi, and Narcissa as much as I could.
Prundt nodded. “I am indeed. Impressive.”
“Not really. It was all in the Ambit.” I didn’t even know what I was saying. My mind had gone numb at the thought of my father.
“And where is the Kryrk now?”
“What?” I stammered.
“Don’t bother to obfuscate, Beck. We know you used the Kryrk to try to destroy Bandala, and yet it was not among the artifacts we recovered from the ship you stole from us.”
A million thoughts raced through my head, but one thing was clear. The Mayir didn’t have the Kryrk.
I had to buy some more time.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Come now. It is a simple question. We know from the Rhya that you did not unload it in Umbanor. We also know you didn’t have it when you were killing my men in Roan Andessa. So what did you do with it?”
“If I tell you, will you let me and my crew go?”
“Go?” Prundt barked out a laugh. His laugh was inexplicably high and girlish-sounding. “Where is it you want to go?”
“Anywhere I don’t have to smell your Mayir stench.”
Then they hit me again. Everything went black.
I’m not sure if I was dreaming at all or just lying there unconscious
