The Price of Conquest

Tyler pushed away the remnants of his morning meal. "When are we going to come up with some way to get the hell out of here?" He stood and began to pace along the main chamber's side wall like a trapped animal.

Kressa set aside her empty plate and glanced at B'Okhaim and Cody with a small smile. Although she doubted she felt any less trapped than Tyler, watching his antics amused her.

B'Okhaim looked at Tyler over a plate still filled with an array of the exotic foods that had awaited them when they awoke.

"Assuming we could get out of here, where would we go?" he asked. "The question we should be asking ourselves is whether we should make a move at all. With this kind of hospitality, we should be grateful to our hosts, not plotting against them."

"And it wouldn't be crack to talk about our plans," Cody said, "even if we had any. The th'Maran must have this place wired. Even if they don't," he lowered his voice and shot a glance at Kressa, "they could tell what we're planning if they wanted to, right?" He tapped a finger to his temple.

"They might not be able to read our minds," Kressa said, "but they could probably listen in without too much trouble."

Tyler continued pacing. "So we just sit here and wait. Is that what you're suggesting?"

B'Okhaim gave him an impatient glower. "Look, Tyler, we've gone over this place half a dozen times, and there's no way out. What do you suggest we do?"

Tyler halted and turned to face B'Okhaim, but it soon became clear he didn't have an answer. He turned away, then looked back a moment later with a hint of a pleased smile playing across his features.

"What about this judgment they have planned for Kressa?" He gave her a quick look. "That doesn't sound very pleasant. Are we just going to sit here and let that happen?"

B'Okhaim and Cody glanced at her.

She met their uneasy looks with one of her own, last night's troubled thoughts resurfacing. Before finally managing to get to sleep, she had decided to go along with whatever the L'Aron Om asked of her, to make it easy on all of them, but she'd also realized she might be able to use an encounter with the Om-Mar to their advantage.

"I'm not going to say I'm not worried," she answered slowly, "but this Om-Mar is supposed to be the thing that sent the th'Maran to unite with the humans. If I can meet him or it or… whatever, maybe we can find out exactly who the th'Maran are, why they came to us, and why we were brought here."

"Any idea why they chose you for this judgment," B'Okhaim asked, "as opposed to one of us?"

"I assume it's because I've had some psi training." She glanced down at the table and resisted the urge to begin toying nervously with a discarded eating utensil. "I just wish I knew what I'm being judged for, when it's going to happen, and if there's anything I can do to prepare."

Something glinted in the corner of her eye, and she glanced at the room's main entrance. Colored lights shimmered across the door's smooth gray surface. The accompanying sounds commenced as the lights fanned out to rime the foyer with dancing color.

"Someone's coming." She stood and faced the door.

It slid aside a moment later, and two th'Maran stepped through the opening, one male and one female. They wore robes similar to those of the Triad, but without the diagonal slashes across the front. The mental lights and colors blazed at their entrance.

They looked straight at Kressa, and the male beckoned her forward with a wave of his hand.

Kressa glanced at her companions. Tyler looked mildly amused, but B'Okhaim and Cody returned her worried look, their gazes sympathetic. She swallowed hard, then stepped forward to join the th'Maran.

They met her eyes, silently conveying she was to accompany them, and then turned toward the door. Kressa followed, but looked back at an anxious cry from Cody.

He sprang to his feet, apprehension twisting his features. "Kressa…"

She flashed him a heartening smile. "Don't worry, Cody. I'll be fine," she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. "It takes more than some judgment to bring down a Packer now, doesn't it?"

"We aren't in the Territories," Cody said, his voice stern.

Kressa gave him an indignant look. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Kressa, be serious. These guys are—"

She stopped his outburst with a sharp look. "Being serious won't make things any less so." She turned away again. "I'll be all right."

The th'Maran stepped from the room, and Kressa followed. The door closed behind her, and she felt suddenly very alone despite the presence of her silent escort.

As she accompanied the two th'Maran through the unadorned maze of corridors, the waves of color and sound followed their passage. Kressa studied the strange show, wondering at its purpose.

Was it a form of th'Maran art meant to brighten the lifeless gray corridors, or perhaps something to help them in the use of their psi abilities? A power source maybe?

She drew energy from the rippling patterns of light and sound. The show dimmed. Fascinated, she poured energy outward. The lights grew brighter and the sounds in her head more clear. She drew the energy back again.

The two th'Maran did not react to the changes.

Heartened, she continued to gather strength from the lights and sounds as they developed around her.

The corridor they were following ended in a closed door. It opened as they approached. Sunlight poured in, and the male th'Maran motioned Kressa through the bright opening. She started forward, but hesitated when she saw what existed beyond the doorway—or, rather, what did not exist.

The door opened onto a narrow walkway at least fifty meters above the ground. It led to a door centered on a triangular building some thirty meters away. There were no handrails to protect the walkway's users and no visible means of support for the walkway itself.

The female th'Maran stepped onto the narrow bridge and brushed a hand against the clear cylinder that enclosed it.

Feeling foolish for her apprehension, Kressa followed the woman. The male stepped after her, and the door closed behind them.

The mental lights flickered along the walkway's clear walls with a crystalline appearance, and the sounds chimed higher, more bell-like.

Intrigued, Kressa studied the change in the phenomenon and realized it could just as likely be her mind's interpretation of the spectacle as an actual difference. She turned her attention to the view beyond the glass corridor.

Below the walkway, a vast city spread out in all directions, its odd-shaped buildings interspersed with patches of wild growth. Far to her left, the city gave way to rolling green hills that rose toward an azure sky to become a range of majestic snow-covered mountains, their tops shrouded in misty white clouds.

Too soon, they reached the end of the walkway, forcing her to turn her attention away from the magnificent view.

The two th'Maran ushered her through the door into a towering, bench-lined lobby, twenty meters wide by perhaps four deep. The air smelled of a sweet, spicy incense. Hints of mental ornamentation glittered from the dark walls, but Kressa could not focus her mind well enough to bring out the details.

A pair of immense black doors at least five meters high adorned the center of the back wall, their surfaces etched with intricate designs. Kressa's escort motioned her forward, and she stepped toward the doors, her mouth suddenly dry.

The barriers swung open as she approached. Little of the color or sound infringed upon the grand chamber beyond, and she paused at the threshold to take it all in.

Open to the triangular building's apex far above, the room's side walls leaned in to meet the sloping back wall in a point high over her head. A hidden light source provided regular, diffuse illumination throughout the room, and a tall, slender obelisk towered opposite the doors.

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Halfway between the door and the obelisk, a wall of pulsing energy hung in the air. Kressa focused her attention on it and detected a rippling sheet of pale blue light. Beyond that, an aura of similar blue surrounded the obelisk.

Curious, Kressa closed her eyes briefly. The azure light remained, and she realized that, like the lights and sounds in the corridors, the pale illumination existed as a purely mental phenomenon.

"Om-Mar," the female th'Maran said from behind Kressa. She gestured toward the obelisk.

Kressa stared at it, her heart pounding hard against her ribs as she gazed upon this object the th'Maran referred to as their creator, and then something urged her forward.

She approached the shimmering blue curtain cautiously, unsure what to expect. Her skin began to tingle as she drew nearer, and she put up a hand in an instinctive warding-off gesture. She felt a slight resistance, as though she moved through a thin barrier, and then she was past.

Something brushed her awareness. The gentle touch filled her mind with a series of random visions, questions, and feelings. Startled, she called up the power she had hoarded on the journey here, and tried to block the intrusion, but it proved as futile as fighting a th'Maran's touch, then her desire to resist melted away.

She let her shields fall and kept walking.

The power on her mind increased with each step, and the air seemed to glisten with energy. An irresistible urge drew her gaze to the obelisk.

She took a final step forward, stopped, and stared.

The obelisk stood at least ten meters high, with a base well over a meter wide. Formed of apparently ordinary stone, it appeared as gray and drab as its surroundings, but the psi power it radiated created a glow Kressa thought even the most mentally insensitive person could perceive.

The energy field behind her rippled, and she glanced over her shoulder. The two th'Maran stood just inside the curtain. The male gestured toward the obelisk, and Kressa returned her gaze to it.

The tranquil play of random thoughts and feelings that brushed her mind coalesced suddenly into a tangible consciousness, and a sexless, toneless voice spoke inside her head.

"Kressa Bryant." It pulled the name from her mind, and she realized there must be something alive, something aware, living within the obelisk, or living as part of it.

"I'm Kressa Bryant." She struggled to keep her voice even. "What— Who are you?"

"We are the Om-Mar." It inserted the meaning of its communication directly into her awareness.

Sensing a need in the Om-Mar and unable to refuse, she reached out to the consciousness. It— They responded to her probe, and the universe opened before her in a dizzying rush.

Facts, images, thoughts, and feelings from countless lives and unfathomable time and distance filled her head, threatening to overwhelm and eclipse her comparably fractional store of knowledge and experience.

She staggered back with a gasp, desperately pulling her probe with her.

The Om-Mar seemed to take her retreat as a sign that she had finished her examination. In truth, she knew she could never hope to comprehend such a vast, long-lived consciousness, and would never dare try.

The Om-Mar's feather-light mental fingers tightened their hold on her mind and snaked deeper, seeking knowledge of her.

She should have seen this coming, she told herself. It was only fair. The Om-Mar had opened for her; now she must do the same. She hated the encroachment, but she could not fight it.

After a long while, the Om-Mar's presence slipped from her awareness. Its retreat left a change in the feel of the energy around her, a kind of wondering.

"We are pleased with what you are, Kressa Bryant," it said. "There is power, an unplanned strength in your mind."

The voice faded from Kressa's awareness, and the chamber seemed to fill with whispers, as if all of the beings that made up the Om-Mar spoke at once.

She strained to comprehend the conversation.

The Om-Mar opened to her again, allowing access to the knowledge she sought, and she realized what it intended to do.

Terror clutched at her heart and panic seized her limbs, freezing her for an instant, and then urging her to flee. She tried to turn and run, to escape the Om-Mar's reach, but her communion with the being had induced a strange lassitude in her limbs.

She stumbled, and the two th'Maran moved forward to catch her.

She grabbed their arms as they stopped her fall. Desperate, she gathered all of the energy available within her mind and within the Om-Mar's invading consciousness, and struggled to link her mind to theirs.

As she strove to join with the two th'Maran, to create an anchor she could cling to, the Om-Mar detached itself from the obelisk and began to possess her body.

The incursion was gentle, utterly without malice, and the part of Kressa still capable of individual thought realized that the Om-Mar, a being without physical form or perception of self, could not possibly understand what it was taking from her.

Despite the gentleness of the absorption, outrage flamed through her. That something so ancient, so powerful, should try to take from her what little she possessed…

Horrified, she gathered all of her remaining psi energy and formed it into a single mental lance. She knew it would deter the Om-Mar for only an instant, but it was all she could do, her last desperate bid for freedom.

"Why do you fight us?" The Om-Mar's words rang through her mind and body. "Accept us and you will have everything."

But she would not accept, and she could not fight.

* * *

To Jonathan, the Fruelar was a confusing maze of nearly identical blue-gray corridors and doorways, but Saunorel led him through the vast structure at a rapid pace.

They turned a corner into yet another featureless hallway, and Jonathan wondered at the bleakness of their surroundings. What he'd seen of Marasyn was beautiful. Even Sullis, despite the sharp regularity of some of its buildings, blended with the natural flow of the land. Why make the interior of this structure so lifeless? He filed the question with a dozen others he meant to ask later.

Saunorel halted before a door. "This is a lift. It will take us closer to where Kressa and the others should be."

The door opened. Saunorel motioned Jonathan inside, and then stepped in beside him. The lift moved upward briefly, eased to a stop, and the door opened to a corridor identical to the one they'd just left.

Saunorel guided Jonathan through several more unvarying corridors and stopped at another featureless door. After a long moment, during which Saunorel appeared deep in concentration, the barrier slid aside.

A large, bearded man and a teenage boy sat at a long table in the room beyond, the remains of a meal scattered before them. They looked up as Jonathan entered the room. A second man stood to one side. He studied Jonathan and Saunorel minutely.

"Thellan! Cody!" Saunorel rushed past Jonathan to give the man at the table a hug.

He stood to return her affectionate greeting, and then held her at arm's length to look her over carefully.

Saunorel glanced at Jonathan. "Captain, this is Keth's father." She returned her attention to the big man with a smile. "Keth will be happy to know you are well."

He gave her a sardonic look. "We'll see about that." He glanced past her to Jonathan. "Who's your friend?"

She turned to Jonathan with an apologetic smile. "Captain Westlex, this is Thellan B'Okhaim," she gestured to the big man and then indicated the boy, "and Cody."

Jonathan shook the bearded man's hand and smiled at the boy.

B'Okhaim waved a brawny hand toward the second man. "That's Devin Tyler."

Jonathan nodded to Tyler, and then surveyed the room.

"If you're looking for Bryant, I'm afraid you're too late." Tyler's words interrupted Jonathan's examination, and he looked over to find the man leaning against the front of the table, arms crossed. "A couple of her th'Maran friends took her away."

Jonathan wondered at Tyler's antagonistic tone. "What do you mean?"

"What Mr. Tyler is trying to say, in his own charming way," B'Okhaim said with a glare for the younger man, "is that Kressa was taken to some kind of judgment by something called the Om-Mar."

Jonathan recalled Ciroen's fears for the safety of those brought to Marasyn. His own fear began to grow. "How long ago was she taken?"

"Maybe ten minutes," B'Okhaim said.

Jonathan glanced at Saunorel. "Do you have any idea what might be happening?"

"If Kressa was taken to the Om-Mar—" She gasped and her gaze snapped to the main door. "The L'Aron Om's shorom! They must have sensed us."

Jonathan spun toward the doorway in time to see three male th'Maran step through. They spread out to block the opening, and then one of them glanced at Saunorel. She froze and started toward them, her movements stiff, as if she struggled against an unseen force.

"Hey, let her go!" B'Okhaim reached out a hand to draw Saunorel to him, and then jerked it away with a pained gasp when he touched her shoulder.

Jonathan pulled his stunner from his pocket and brought it up to fire, but the command to activate the weapon never reached his hand, and an invisible force shoved him aside. He struck the foyer wall with enough force to knock his breath from him and send the stunner skittering away.

Cody took a step toward the gun, but a single look from one of the th'Maran held him in place.

Jonathan straightened and reached for his pulse gun, but before he could draw it, one of the th'Maran stepped in front of him.

The strength drained from Jonathan's limbs, and he stumbled back against the wall, barely able to remain on his feet. Against his will, his eyes drifted up to meet the th'Maran's silver gaze.

The th'Maran removed the pulse gun from its holster, then brought up his free hand and passed it before Jonathan's eyes.

Jonathan's head began to tingle, his eyes fluttered closed, and a rushing sound filled his ears. He struggled to remain conscious, but the world rolled over gently and blackness enveloped him.