Xavier: An Omnes Videntes Novel Read online

  Xavier

  An Omnes Videntes Novel

  By Wendie Nordgren

  Copyright © 2017 by Wendie Nordgren

  www.wendienordgren.com

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, places, and events are fictional and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Victoria Cooper Art

  Also by Wendie Nordgren

  The Space Merchants Book One

  The Space Merchants of Arachne Book Two

  The Parvac Emperor’s Daughter Book Three

  Omnes Videntes Book Four

  The Spider Queen Book Five

  Clue and The Shrine of the Widowed Bride Book One

  Clue and the Sea Dragon Book Two

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter One

  Rocks and gravel crunched under her feet as she ran to the sound of crickets and the wind that whipped around rocky outcroppings and through the branches of scraggly trees. Her tortured lungs struggled to drag in each painful breath. Pausing, she held her right side, willing the pain to dissipate. Mouth opened to get as much air as possible, she looked behind her fearing to find a pair of bright, glowing yellow eyes searching for her in the night. Daring not to hope that she had avoided discovery, she turned and willed herself forward. However, this time all she could manage was a jog, inspired by sheer terror.

  It was just a little farther. If she could make it to the escape pod that she had modified, she would have a chance. Bishop didn’t know about the pod. Had he known about it, he would have destroyed it. Bishop would never risk exposure by allowing one of his tech slaves to escape. As a secret base location, the small planetoid was perfect. Otherwise, it was worthless except for its ability to attract space junk.

  She and the other slaves were allowed to roam the desolate landscape each morning and evening. Bishop believed the small freedom to wander outside of the compound unsupervised increased productivity. She had discovered the escape pod a year ago. Since then, she had worked to repair and enhance it with a propulsion and guidance system. It was hidden beneath a layer of dirt and a pieced together reflective cloaking system powered by kinetic energy.

  Not seeing any of the AIs that Bishop used for security, she darted from behind a rock and over to the escape pod. Quickly, she brushed away the dirt. The movement of her hands against the ridged surface sheeting was enough to charge the reflective cloak for days, and passing through space would keep it charged. As quietly as possible, she opened the hatch, climbed inside, and then sealed herself within the pod. This was her one chance. When she didn’t return in forty-five minutes, the AIs would search for her in earnest. If they caught her and returned her to Bishop, she would never see anything but the lab or her room for the remainder of her life.

  “Stars, let this work.”

  Fastening her harness, she supplied power to the propulsion and guidance systems. The pod should have enough power to hurl itself into space and lock onto a planet with a habitable zone. It was a safeguard designed into every escape pod. She didn’t know where she was, where the nearest habitable planet was, or how long it would take to get there. She didn’t care. She didn’t care if she died in space. She just didn’t want to die a tech slave.

  Without wasting precious time, she pushed the command. Her hands were forced down to her sides, her chin pressed painfully into her chest, and her fingertips tingled. The force of liftoff pushed her pelvis down into the seat. Then, her spine decompressed as her hands lifted up and life support engaged. Through the dirty hatch in front of her, she could see stars. Still, she refused to accept her success. If anyone had been looking in her direction, they may have noticed a cloud of dust. Bishop could be tracking her, or he could be sending his AIs after her.

  Nervous sweat chilled her skin. She wore a T-shirt, exercise pants, and running shoes. She had no credits, no family, and no permits. She didn’t exist. She didn’t know how old she had been when Bishop had found her in the gutters of Amphictyon. She didn’t know who her parents had been, why they hadn’t searched for her when they had discovered her missing, or if she had been abandoned. She had stopped caring. Bishop had taken her, assigned an AI to serve as her nurse, and had trained her to make weapons.

  She liked in when things worked. Broken things that couldn’t be repaired or repurposed upset her. The weapons she had been making broke everything upon which they were unleashed. She found it to be deeply disturbing but didn’t understand why. The AIs and other tech slaves couldn’t replicate her work. Their minds were too trapped by linear thinking to bypass the sudden and sporadic problems created by her destructive little inventions. Unfortunately, that made her valuable to Bishop.

  When twenty-four hours had passed, she rewarded herself with one of the ration bars in the small compartment to her right. She washed it down with water sucked from an accordion straw located in a compartment beside it. To the front of her seat, there was a suction device that had been unpleasant to use when she had been forced to relieve herself earlier. Knowing from where the recycled drinking water came had ruined her appetite. On the bright side, the knowledge could make her rations last longer. The pod hadn’t been designed for distant journeys. It had been designed to help a passenger survive a catastrophe long enough to be rescued. However, she had disabled the distress beacon.

  Chapter Two

  Xavier glanced down at the conference table and saw his own eyes reflected back at him. Most humanoids found his eyes to be unnerving. Each of his eyes would look completely normal for a Laconian if they matched, but having one white eye like an Enyo, and one black eye like an Eriopis within the same skull was a constant reminder to everyone of what he was. He was a Laconian hybrid. He and his brothers had been created in a lab by Dr. Stanley Crispus. They had been grown in amniotic chambers.

  Dr. Crispus, an Eriopis, had fallen in love with and married Nora Cale, an Enyo. They had met at the Medical and Research University of Zagreus. Nora had been studying to become a nurse. There was a reason why relationships between Eriopis telepaths and Enyo empaths were taboo. After suffering two miscarriages, Nora had committed suicide in 2364. After losing her, Stanley had left the university to work for a private biotech research facility.

  A year later, he vanished. Nora’s death had broken him. Stanley devoted his life to creating hybrid Eriopis and Enyo children who could survive. Where he had gotten the eggs he had fertilized was his secret. His earlier progeny didn’t survive for very long.

  Eriopis males formed strong telepathic bonds with their fathers until they matured and formed bonds with their female mates. Their wives gave their racing telepathic abilities the stabilization they needed. In return, telepathic Eriopis males provided their wives with profound sexual satisfaction. They had the ability to stimulate a female’s endorphins with their touch sending them into an addictive ecstasy. They prided themselves on pleasing their females. Most Eriopis males kept multiple wives satisfied. Enyo males were empaths. Without their clan mothers to stabilize them through empathic bonds, they were feral and dangerous.

  Combining the two Laconian races always resulted in either miscarri
ages, like those that Nora Crispus had suffered, or in children who succumbed to rage and insanity. Dr. Crispus had conducted countless illegal genetic experiments before creating his hybrid children. While in hiding as a physician on a mining colony, he had delivered a female infant, activated dormant recessive genes, and stimulated her brain’s supra marginal gyrus thus modifying her brain chemistry. Dr. Crispus had planned to use her to control his sons. His plan had worked, but not as he had hoped.

  She did control them through empathic and telepathic bonds with love, acceptance, and understanding. Xavier loved her. They all did, but Teagan’s romantic love belonged to his brother, Zared. Teagan’s love for her adopted hybrid brothers, while deep and true, was familial. Xavier and his hybrid Laconian brothers had been forced to accept it on Amphictyon. When Zared had almost died protecting Teagan from a stealth missile and his consciousness had been hidden from their own, the passionate feelings shared between their brother and his mate had vanished. Their confused feelings for her had vanished as well.

  To Xavier, Teagan was a cherished younger sister. To Rozz and Jezzie, she was more of a clan mother. Each of them had time in those terrifying days while they had feared for Zared’s life to evaluate their feelings. Now, Izaac was the only one amongst them still conflicted. Clear to all of them was that they belonged together. Teagan needed her hybrid brothers as much as they needed her. They were her Omnes Videntes.

  “Xavier,” Inquisitor Eli Beck said from across the table. “We need investigative leads if we are to eliminate the threats to the Imperial family. Find the manufacturer of the thermo-resonator missiles and learn everything that you can. Do whatever you think is best with him once he is no longer of use. Dismissed.”

  Xavier stood, saluted, and left. Walking toward Teagan’s wing of the Palace, he stopped once he was near enough and closed his eyes. Reaching out with his telepathic and empathic senses, he strengthened the bonds between them, luxuriating in the love and acceptance before he was forced to leave. Zared approached. Xavier clasped his brother’s arm as they pressed their foreheads together. Feeling centered and controlled, Xavier released his brother’s arm and went to the land port where his ship awaited him.

  According to the small control panel, she had survived another twenty-four hours. She again rewarded herself with a ration bar. She could either sit up straight or recline with her feet up. That was all. There was a constant cramp in her back, and her tailbone ached. Bishop must have begun searching for her. To slow them down and give herself time to escape, she had dropped a few molecular resonators into rock fissures along her usual walking path. The little devices had widened the cracks and then dissolved leaving her hair and nail clippings behind. With any luck while scanning for her, they would detect her genetic material and waste precious hours attempting to dig her out.

  Through the hatch’s viewport, she could see the stars and knew she was moving, but so far, no planets had appeared. Desperate hope had managed to fill her even though she had diligently attempted to evade the emotion. She needed to disappear. For that to happen, she needed to land on a colonized world and hack into credits. The hope she had tried to deny turned to fear that the cloaking system would fail, Bishop would find her, and he would take her back.

  “Stop it,” she said to herself.

  When Bishop had taken her from Amphictyon, food, clothing, and shelter had been enough to please her. It was as she had gotten older and listened to the other tech slaves that she had begun to realize that she was being cheated. A man, whose job had been to modulate missile casings, had argued with Bishop. His name had been Tory. On a few occasions, he had smiled at her kindly, but she had never learned what had prompted his behavior. One day, Bishop had entered the lab to check on their progress.

  “This is criminal! We have rights! You can’t imprison sentient beings, keep us like animals, and force us to work for you!” Tory had slammed his gloved hands to the work surface and stood. The pale-blue jumper he wore was loose around his middle, just like it was for the others. The matching hair net hadn’t covered his ears. Tory had gone red in the face with anger. The other workers had stood and mumbled agreements. “We have homes and families. They are looking for us, and when they find us, you will be punished!”

  “He’s right. We have lives to go back to. How long are you going to make us stay here?” a woman asked.

  “I demand freedom!” Tory yelled.

  Bishop drew a blaster and fired. Tory’s head had moved back as his stomach had moved forward. Drops of red had spread out into the air behind his puffy blue hair net. Then, she had heard the pop of sound and had watched as Tory had fallen. Blood had spread in a widening pool around his head. He had stared straight up at the lab’s ceiling with the word freedom frozen on his lips.

  “There. He is now free from this life,” Bishop had said emotionlessly.

  She could still remember the sounds of the breathing of the other slaves. Bishop had paced slowly. His shiny black shoes had begun leaving red footprints on the lab floor. Her hands had stilled on her work. “I’ll have him left somewhere so his family can find him. Then, everyone will be happy. Problem solved.” To the woman, he asked, “Are you happy to live here, or do you want your freedom, too, like your friend here?”

  The woman had closed her eyes and sobbed.

  Bishop had said, “I’ll tell you what. Since I’m in a good mood from solving a problem, I’ll give you all ten minutes to get cleaned up and back to work. When I return to check your progress, I’ll know who is happy to live here based upon who is working. How does that sound?” Bishop had walked away. He had snapped his fingers at an AI. “Clean that up and leave the mess on a habitable planet.”

  AIs had removed Tory and had begun decontamination protocols. The female slaves had cried all of the way to the cleaning units.

  She had continued working, focusing on what she could control and fix. Bishop had broken Tory. His head couldn’t be fixed. What had been inside of him had left red splatters on the blue jumpers of the other slaves, the lab’s work surface, and the floor. He couldn’t be repaired. The AIs had removed all traces of Bishop’s bloody footprints from the floor. By the time the other tech slaves had returned to their workstations, it was as if Tory had never been. However, the AIs couldn’t wipe away her memory.

  That night, she had begun to listen to the sounds coming through the wall from the room beside hers. She had realized that it was the woman and that she was crying. She thought the woman cried because of Tory. Having spent most of her life around AIs, she had seldom seen anyone cry. She didn’t understand the purpose of it or what it accomplished. The next day, when Tory wasn’t at his workstation, she began to understand. Tory was gone, but his words remained a part of her. She wanted to know what freedom felt like.

  After a few years of observing the woman, she had begun to understand sadness. The other tech slaves avoided her. During entertainment or exercise periods, they became quiet if she attempted to approach them, so she stopped making the effort and instead focused on the tasks she was given to do. She had tried to understand their enjoyment from movies or their laughter from jokes, but she got more enjoyment from completing repetitive tasks. Their exclusion of her did help her to better understand sadness. It was wanting something but not getting it. Over the years, she had learned fear from Bishop and the AIs who enforced his will.

  Now, in the escape pod, she had no tasks on which to concentrate. Instead, she began counting everything she could see inside of the pod.

  Chapter Three

  Xavier lifted off from Parvac’s surface in a stealth vessel. Inquisitor Beck had given him his pick of starships and crews with which to complete his mission. However, he preferred to work alone. The incessant thoughts of others were a distraction. His mission was too important for that. Until the threat to the Imperial family had been eliminated, he would find no peace.

  Xavier set his course for Amphictyon. A former mercenary for hire, he wouldn’t have any trouble findi
ng a weapons dealer there. The planet was a haven for techies, and the planet’s governing system did little to monitor dangerous inventions. However, with the Galaxic Militia breathing down their necks over detonating pulse blades, that might change. He could still feel Teagan’s pain over Luca’s loss. It would leave her only to return again, like rain. His mission was to find the person responsible for making thermo-resonator missiles. That was his part of the puzzle to solve, his part of the knot to unravel.

  The next night with the vessel on autopilot, he began researching the components of the missiles and where to find them. Launched thermo-resonator missiles would strike and heat through a ship’s defensive shielding. Then, the impact and heat would activate the resonator which contained substances that were chemically attracted to the metals in the ship’s hull. They would begin to react, and the ship would appear to shake apart with the force. In space, such a blast would cause the slow destruction of a vessel and leave a crew without much chance of survival. Having used them in the attack against Militia and Parvac ships while taking orders from Arlo Dano, Xavier knew all about them.

  As the hours crept on into a new day, Xavier amassed more information from the Inquisitor data base to which he had been granted access for his mission. He removed his uniform, cleaned and stored it, showered, and ate dinner with his towel wrapped around his hips. Sensing no sentient beings within his proximity, he powered down nonessential systems, laid down on his berth, and slept. When he woke, he scratched his stomach and dressed in the attire typical of a land port worker.

  She had counted everything in the escape pod seventy times because there were seventy things within it that she could see. One of those things was the viewport. There wasn’t a planet in sight. What if she starved to death long before her escape pod landed? She tried to appreciate her freedom. She was free of the lab, hurling through cold empty space. She clutched at the emergency blanket and shivered. The blanket was silver. Her rations were gone.