Alien Deception (48 page)

Stepping out of the elevator, he checked to the left and right. There was no one else in the corridor. Trying to look as calm as he could, he cautiously proceeded to the room indicated by the Dracarian desk clerk. Leumas imagined his Dracarian friend was probably going to have a nasty headache for quite a while when he woke up—a downside to influencing. The effects varied, but most developed a headache that would throb unmercifully for quite a while.
Still, some things were necessary to get the job done,
he thought.
And besides, the alien had needed an attitude adjustment.

The corridor was not well-lit. Only half the lights appeared to work, causing shadowed pockets where the corridor seem to be eaten up by the darkness. Although Leumas was unnerved by it, given the hotel's location and reputation for confidentiality, it was probably purposely lighted that way to ensure privacy of and for its guests. Still he stepped cautiously, his feet feeling the sponginess of the carpeting as he passed doors looking for the number he sought. Old paintings hung on the wall, a contrast to the more modern-day holographs that displayed continually changing views. The more he saw, the more he was beginning to feel he was in a museum rather than a hotel. The word "tomb" came to mind, but he wished it away quickly.

Leumas had performed much undercover work in his role as initial contact agent for the Council, but very rarely had it involved the searching out of an adversary or someone who could possibly harm him in return. Training was more about how to blend in and not be noticed—more defensive than the offensive tactics required at this moment.

Arriving at the room, he was unsure of what approach he should use. He checked his stun weapon and ensured the safety was off as he prepared to knock on the door. His stomach soured at all this cloak-and-dagger routine. He cleared his throat and then took deep breaths, trying to calm himself so he would be ready for whatever happened next. He knocked three times on the door. There was no answer. He knocked again in the same way and achieved the same results. He gripped the door handle, turned it and pushed. The door didn't open.

Taking his stun weapon, he set it on its lowest setting for a pulsating burst. He pressed the muzzle of the weapon up to the lock mechanism and pressed the trigger. A crackle similar to the static electricity sounded and a small arc of light appeared. He retested the door mechanism and it turned freely now.

Slowly, and as quietly as he could, he pressed the door open all the way to get as clear a view as possible. There was no movement. He proceeded into the room, silently closing the door behind him. He began his search.

He was in a sitting room, surprised to find that the room's furnishings, although old, still possessed a sense of elegance that he even found appealing. High-backed chairs surrounded a small table, and there was a sofa with intricate wood trim that curved along the its back reminding him of a serpent. There were some modern additions—communications portals and a vid screen—but, on the whole, the rooms maintained their old yet quaint appearance.

He scanned every foot of space looking for any telltale sign of an occupant. He saw nothing. No suitcase, papers, magazines, clothing or any other indication of an occupant. He moved toward the entrance into the next room. He flattened himself against the wall to the side of the doorway and listened. Nothing. He moved through the doorway and crouched while he scanned the room. Nothing. No sign of anyone.

The bedroom was simply furnished: a large wooden dresser, a bed and two night tables with lamps upon them. The bed was made and showed no signs of any recent use. No suitcases or clothing. He moved to the closet and opened the partially ajar door with the toe of his shoe. Empty hangers swayed back and forth on the pole, disturbed by the air he had let in.

A door led to another room, probably the bathroom. He repeated the same tactic he'd used entering the bedroom. The bathroom yielded the same results. No toiletries except for the usual hotel items on the counter. Clean towels sat on the shelf.

Lowering the gun, Leumas wiped at the sweat now dripping down his face and exhaled strongly. Pocketing the weapon, he opened some of the dresser drawers. Like everything else in the rooms, they were empty and showed no signs of use.

Could the Dracarian on the front desk have lied?
he wondered. No, he couldn't have lied under influence. The only way that could have happened was if he had been given false information to begin with.

That could only occur if he had been influenced to provide me false information!

Just as he realized how easily he had been maneuvered into the trap, he heard a hissing sound. Glancing up he saw vapor exuding from each air vent in the room. Covering his nose with his arm, he moved toward the door. He found it difficult to maintain his balance; the room swam before his eyes and his legs felt numb. He withdrew the weapon from his pocket only to drop it as his motor skills evaporated. He collapsed to the floor and thought he heard muffled laughter coming from very near where he lay.

The laughter scared him and sent chills through his body as they reverberated off the walls and his mind. He thought that laughter was familiar. He struggled with the dream-state trying to drag him under so he could try and place where he had heard it before. Just before losing consciousness he thought he had it.

But that can't be true. He's dead!

With newfound horror, he succumbed to a dreaded sleep and the nightmare he knew it would contain.

Chapter Twenty-two

“I opened my eyes but refused to see.”

Leumas 

Leumas slowly opened his eyes. He was still in the hotel room to which he had been so easily maneuvered and gassed to unconsciousness. He was lying on the bed instead of the floor. At least his captors cared somewhat for his comfort. He attempted to lift his head, found it ached immeasurably and took back the thought that anyone cared about his comfort.
Must have been Sironian immobilizing gas; it always leaves a nasty headache afterwards,
he thought.

Suddenly getting the skin-crawling feeling he was being watched, he rolled to his side and sat up on the edge of the bed. A very large humanoid shape sat in a chair about twelve feet from the bed; the backlight from the window behind darkened all but the outline of whoever it was. Leumas knew he was outmatched physically. Reaching for his stun weapon, Leumas was not totally surprised to discover he no longer possessed it. He remembered he had dropped it. He remembered laughter, and he recalled thinking he knew that laugh.

"And you might be?" Leumas tried to sound calm as he raised his arm to block some of the bright light in hope of seeing more of his captor.

"I am Carnis. But it is you I believe owes me an explanation, sir, seeing as how you are in my room," the shadowy figure said in a bland, almost robotic tone.

Leumas recognized the manner of speech. Carnis was speaking through a device that would make all voices sound the same, thereby eluding detection. Did he know this person? Is that why he was hiding his voice? His attempts to see any detail of his captor were useless and he lowered his arm. He didn't recognize the name Carnis, but he also doubted it was a real name in any case.

"I'm here investigating an incident you may've been involved with. You were bragging at a bar down the street about destroying an Arcturian ambassadorial vessel. As far as my name goes, I'd rather not reveal that at this point, if it's all the same to you."

"Dispense with your crap! I know who you are, Leumas! I knew you were coming before you even left Earth, and you fell for all the bait I planted. You're getting sloppy in your old age."

How did he know I was coming? Our suspicions of a spy within the UCDW must be correct.

"And I have every right in the world to kill you for being in this room," Carnis continued. "No one would ask any questions. The computer entry system would have all the proof necessary if anyone did care. And before you get any smart ideas of trying to escape, my associates are monitoring the room. "

"Did you have something to do with destroying that vessel?" Leumas doubted Carnis had any intention of letting him leave alive. But perhaps that confidence would make him talk. His last chance would be to attempt escape using his influence power.

"Of course, I did. Well, not directly. I did pay to have it done. Does that still count?" His voice quivered as if he were fighting back a hilarious outburst.

"Why?" Leumas asked. "You must've known the ship was ambassadorial and would not have any substantial weaponry. Why did you murder those helpless people?"

"Because they were there," Carnis said with an air of indifference. "The snooping Arcturian fools had gotten hold of some information I didn't want them to have. They could have interfered with my plans, and nobody will do that. Nobody will live one second after just
thinking
about interfering with my plans. Do you hear me?"

Even through the voice-disguising mechanism, Leumas heard the insane rage in the voice of his mysterious captor.

"So what are your plans? Some scheme to get rich? Terrorizing a sector of the galaxy? What?"

"My plans? You want to know them? Well, I have many; I have plans within plans. Where shall I begin?" His voice rose in volume. "I'm going to have a reunion with some old friends of mine, maybe travel a little bit. You know, visit some strange new worlds, have a little fun, maybe destroy some planets and, best of all, kill. I'm going to kill one hell of a lot of people if they don't see things my way, and even if they do, I might kill them anyway." He finished with a fervor that scared Leumas.

After the maniacal tirade, seconds passed that stretched into minutes as Carnis said nothing more and appeared to have calmed. Leumas wondered if perhaps he had even gone to sleep or suffered some type of seizure from his outburst.

Leumas wanted to leave and he wanted to take this madman with him. But someone with this much power wouldn't work alone, so it might prove a lot harder getting out of this place than it had been getting in. Leumas couldn't tell if Carnis had any weapons, although the massiveness of Carnis' body was more then enough of a defense. Either way, if his plan failed, he'd probably wind up dead. He prepared to put his last-resort plan into action as he began to arrange the thoughts in his mind and to push them into the mind of Carnis.

::I am going to leave now and you will come along with me. I am going to leave now and you will come along with me.::

"No, you're not." Carnis's apparent stupor was over and he was angry. "You're not going anywhere and neither am I!" He shouted with such animal rage that the voice-disguising device stopped working. The sudden change in voice smashed into Leumas with such force his ears throbbed with pain while an icy chill clamped his stomach.

Shocked at the outright defiance of this alien, Leumas began to push harder. He felt resistance and pushed as hard as he could, a level that would have killed the average person by causing a massive cerebral hemorrhage.

::I am going to leave now and you will come along with me. I am going to leave now and you will come along with me.::

"Stop it," Carnis screamed and threw the energy back into Leumas’ mind.

The overload slammed into Leumas’ brain; he blacked out and fell back onto the bed.

Carnis sat in his chair smiling.

* * * *

Leumas groaned as he woke, grabbing his head to ease the throbbing that pounded in his temples. As he opened his eyes, his vision was slightly blurred from the assault his mind had taken. All his senses must have been overloaded by the power behind the tremendous influence that had poured into his brain; a cerebral rape.

What was that? More importantly, who was it?
He sat up and tried to focus his eyes in the darkness. Night had come to Aruba.
How am I going to get out of here? Not even my ability to influence will… Wait—that voice. I know that voice. It sounded like—

The sound of a glass being placed abruptly on the table caused him to jump. He groped for the lamp on the bedside table. Clicking it on, he winced from the light. Shading his eyes, he looked toward the sound. As his vision cleared, he saw that his captor was still with him, sitting in the exact same spot he had been before. In that moment of recognition, Leumas found it impossible to breathe
.

I was right about the voice. My God.

"Have a nice nap?" his captor asked as he picked up the glass and filled it from a bottle of yellow liquid. He downed the contents in a large gulp. Rivulets of the liquid dripped from the corners of his mouth and down his chin. He made no move to wipe it away.

Leumas gasped as he recognized the face of the man who had so easily overpowered him. He took in the impressive figure whose physical appearance was usually enough by itself to ward off any thought of confrontation. That large frame, close to seven feet tall and massively muscular, seemed to dwarf even the large chair he sat in. His face, with its complexion of a stone-like texture, was twisted into an evil smile.

I'm not getting out of here alive.

"
My God," Leumas exclaimed, his voice weak and disbelieving. "It can't be!"
The miserable son of a bitch was dead. I saw it happen!

"Don't trust your own eyes, old friend?" Copolla grinned broadly at him, his large teeth yellow and stained.

‘Old friend' was something this creature had called Leumas on several occasions, most notably when he had banished Leumas from the Council on Zire. The phrase burned in Leumas’s mind, rekindling levels of hatred and anger he thought he would never feel again.

"Copolla," Leumas said, though it was hard for him to speak that name, let alone to even imagine he was still alive. "You're dead. You have to be dead! This is some kind of sick trick. You can't be here! Who are you? What did you do? Surgery? DNA alteration?"