“Al’Kara, I need your help again,” La’Haja called from another chamber.
“Of course, cousin,” Al’Kara said as she swayed into the main laboratory chamber toward La’Haja and the Callistian. The smell of antiseptic was strong. A handful of the altered Callistian guards stood watching—or being forced to help feed and watch—their smaller brethren making too much noise from the rows of cages along the far wall. Al’Kara did detect the sharp scent of unwashed bodies that the antiseptic smell didn’t fully mask. Her arrival caused a stirring of agitation in the caged Callistians; several of the cage doors had to be smacked by the guards with thick palms or clubs. She made a note to inform La’Haja of it.
Al’Kara took a moment to take in the changes in the two types of Callistians, the guardian creatures and those in the cages. The guardians were broader of the shoulder and close to a meter-and-a-half tall, with thicker, sharper fangs and teeth in their jaws. Some held simple clubs and jagged spears, but they were inexperienced in their use. They had been altered into these large, brutish versions to be used as guards, though they were stupid in the ways of war and still tended to attack things with their hands more than their crude weapons.
Some were servants that La’Haja had made from the captive Callistians—like the one who was strapped to the surgical table. Al’Kara knew she was being used by her cousin. She wasn’t stupid—without Al’Kara’s Mind Blade powers, La’Haja’s magic would be useless. Yet the spell La’Haja had had to put on her to break her strange bond with the Space Ranger, Rick Tavish, was necessary. When La’Haja had found them, her cousin had helped free her, and the spell kept Al’Kara free and safe. It was the only way.
Al’Kara had to help La’Haja find the cure for the Long Death, the Golgoro-only disease. It was the only way to allow the Golgoro to survive the oncoming apocalypse. It was the only way, La’Haja had been saying since Al’Kara arrived. The only way. The words sang in her head again and again. For a moment, the briefest flash of worry came to Al’Kara about the Space Ranger, Rick. It was driven from her mind, for she knew he was an enemy of La’Haja and would do anything to stop her from finding a cure for the Long Death..
“Are you ready?” La’Haja asked from behind a mask made of raw, gray silk. Al’Kara mentally ensnared a surgical robe and face mask of gray silk waiting on a peg at the entrance. Her mind manipulated the strings to make them both tight to her skin without contaminating the protective coverings with her own body oils. “I am ready,” Al’Kara said, nodding and stepping closer to La’Haja’s left side.
“Good,” La’Haja said. She gestured for one of the servants to bring forth a large syringe and large-bore needle. The syringe was made of glinting green glass and polished brass, giving the tool a small degree of style. La’Haja would want something pretty, even here, Al’Kara thought while picking it up with her mind. The amber fluid in the vial sloshed with the movement of La’Haja’s latest formula combination to stave off the Long Death. That was what all the seers of Mars had called the coming plague. The Golgoro, or what Rick and his people called the Martians, would succumb to a massive extinction-level disease by the end of the Decade of Brass if no one did anything. She had seen it, and yet none of the Golgoro elders would lift a finger to stop it.
“This had better work,” La’Haja said. “It must be administered—”
“I was paying attention when you told me this earlier, cousin,” Al’Kara said, the syringe hanging a scant half-inch from the small yellow-skinned Callistian’s jugular. The vein bulged out thanks to the restraints and the thrashing of the simian-like being. “I will wait until you finish the incantations over this creature. Please, begin.”
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La’Haja cast a sidelong look at her cousin, then started to intone the venerable language of Mars, flowing from one complex ancient word to the next in a melodic voice. Meanwhile, her hands hovered over the Callistian’s heart. La’Haja’s hands started to glow a soft wan green, still a touch more sickly yellowish-green than I’d like, Al’Kara thought with a wince. Though uncomfortable with the darker, sinister color of her cousin’s magic, Al’Kara knew it couldn’t be avoided. Not with the Long Death so close. Last time Al’Kara had been on Mars, she’d glimpsed others with the beginnings of the wasting disease and had been happy to flee with Rick off Golor—Mars. Why would I flee with him if he’s my enemy? She pushed the horrid images and questions aside, choosing to focus on the task at hand.
With the last of La’Haja’s words intoned, Al’Kara’s mind shoved the large-bore needle into the jugular vein of the small creature. It let out a pathetic cry as the needle sank into the thick vein. A wail tore from the creature’s thrashing form as the amber fluid was injected with a mental push of the syringe. Once finished, the empty syringe was plucked free to hover over the hole made. The torn flesh and vein looked as though it was already healing itself. Al’Kara hadn’t pulled the needle away fast enough, for the flesh crept over the needle, pulling it back into the growing puckered scar on the Callistian’s jugular.
Sensing that the creature was healing quickly, Al’Kara felt a growing sense of hope. She looked into her cousin’s eyes and saw the same hope reflected there. Maybe . . . maybe this time . . .
Before she could finish her thought, the creature spasmed with a noiseless shriek, cracking open its jaws beyond the breaking point. When the creature found its voice, its wail of agony clawed at Al’Kara’s ears. It strained and jerked hard against the restraints. Al’Kara reached out to try and untether them, seeing the way the flesh of the test subject abraded itself—and then started to re-grow over the straps. La’Haja slapped at her hand. Jerking her hand back, for a brief instant, Al’Kara felt the flare of her psi-blade solidify in her hand. No . . . there is only peace. A blade can only be used with stillness of mind. She banished the blade, not wanting to see what color it could have been.
The pair watched. Al’Kara felt sympathy and a touch of empathic pain for the creature while it writhed, its scream starting to grow weaker. The un-altered Callistians in their cages were silent for a moment as the scream stopped, yet the agony still twisted the test subject’s face. Then the cages erupted in a cacophony of screeches and banging, howls of rage and thirst for revenge.
The subject’s skin and flesh continued to grow over the straps, regenerating faster and faster, unable to stop itself from halting the healing process. After five minutes, the mass of growing muscle and flesh was as large as the operating table itself. La’Haja dropped her hand, and an angry sigh escaped her lips.
Al’Kara also let out a sigh and raised her right hand to the pulsating flesh blob that was the creature. Summoning her mind-blade with the stillness needed, her projected psi-blade emerged as a thin stiletto rising from her middle finger. She shoved her hand into the growing mound of flesh, approximately where the brain stem was located. She felt the resistance against the blade, and the thing continued to grow. She moved her hand lower, mentally widening the blade that emerged from her left hand, slicing through the creature’s chest, cutting through and around the heart to stop it from growing. For several heartbeats, the thing continued to grow. Al’Kara growled, a flicker of red curling along the pale blue psi-blade, widening the blade more and eviscerating the heart tissue. After a spastic shudder of breath from the thing, it stopped moving and died.
“That was a dismal failure,” La’Haja said, ripping her mask off with her hands.
“A pity. It looked like it was working,” Al’Kara said, dismissing the blade. She clenched her hands to keep them from trembling, working her mask’s ties with her mind to give it something else to focus on instead of dwelling on the color of the blade.
“Destroy it, and get another one. We must find a cure.”
“Of course, cousin,” Al’Kara said. With a few deft strokes, she carved the thing up and had the guards tow the bloody sections away to be disposed of.