“It’s been less than a minute. I don’t even know where he is, whether they’ve been active.”
Tannis turned to Skylar. “What about you. You said this guy was on your most-wanted lists—you must at least try and keep track of what the Rebels are up to.”
“Small stuff, as far as I know,” Skylar said. “They’ve been quiet for a while. The consensus within the intelligence section of the Corps was that they were building up to something big. But we had no clue what. That was before I left, but I haven’t heard anything on the comms about them since then.”
Tannis took a sip of her drink. “And how well do you know this Devlin guy?”
“Well, I’ve read the files. You know we nearly caught him once?”
The Trog turned from where he stared at the screen as though willing it to give him something. “No, I hadn’t heard.”
“About five years ago. We nearly killed him, but he somehow gave us the slip. We’re pretty sure he was injured though.”
“Maybe he’s dead,” Tannis said, peering around the Trog at the blank screen.
“No. I’d know if he were dead.”
“Hey, something is happening.”
The screen was blinking. Tannis jumped to her feet so she could see the words flashing up.
Welcome back. Where and when?
The Trog turned around so he could see her. “Well?”
“It needs to be soon, and we don’t know where your brother is. Can you ask him?”
“I’d rather not. They tend to be a little touchy about giving away their location. Give me a time and a place and we’ll see if he can make it.”
“Janey, can you bring up that intel on the Church’s ship—we don’t have much time and we need to work out where to intercept it.”
Janey flicked a few keys and a 3-D screen came up in front of them. The planets of the Trakis system popped up one by one, the El Cazador appearing somewhere between Trakis Two and Seven. A second group of ships showed up close to Trakis Four. Tannis studied the configuration and tried to work out where would be the best place to intercept. She didn’t want to leave it too late, but on the other hand, they needed time to plan.
They also had no clue where the Rebels were based, so they might have to give a few locations before they hit one that worked. “Janey, can you put in the variables and give us a few suggestions to start with. Begin with the closest, and we’ll work our way out.”
…
Okay, so he was feeling like shit. Physically, the symptoms were fading, and he’d been starting to feel better when they hit him with the guilt thing again. He hadn’t thought he could experience guilt anymore. He’d actually believed it was part of the whole Meridian thing, a bit like the lack of sexual urges. But just like lust, the guilt had been in hiding, waiting for someone to wake it up with a few well-pointed comments.
Like he was responsible for the near genocide of a whole species.
Though the GMs weren’t really a separate species. They were as much human as…well as he was. Maybe more so, because he was still changing. Who knew what he would end up in another five hundred years? The idea excited him more than it scared him. Though it scared him, like the fear he’d felt going into combat when he was a pilot on earth. Fear of the unknown.
But back to the guilt. It was beginning to dawn on him just how much he had to be guilty about. The GM purge had been wrong, but the Council had referred to them as collateral damage, acceptable to maintain their precarious hold on power. The world thought they were all powerful, but it didn’t take much to sway the balance, and the Church had the masses behind them. All those people who knew they would never have the means to obtain immortality through Meridian. And it wasn’t only money that was required—the selection process had become strict when it was obvious that even at the exorbitant prices, there were still many more people applying than there was Meridian available.
But the need to maintain power didn’t justify anything. Why should they be in charge anyway? What made them believe they should rule the world just because they were immortal? All that meant was they could make the same mistakes over and over again.
They had forgotten that people mattered. Half the time, he hadn’t thought of them as people at all, just pieces in this game he was playing—the let’s-rule-the-universe game. He’d become distanced from everyone. Even his own people.
Christ, he was a self-pitying bastard right now.
Or maybe he was just drunk. On Earth, he’d been able to drink everyone under the table. But it had been a long time, and he could feel the alcohol like a buzz in his brain. He liked the feeling. Relaxing back in his chair, he sipped his drink and watched them all through half-closed lashes.