Free Endgame by Ann Aguirre Page A

all while plundering La’heng and stealing from its rightful rulers, while the La’heng serve and follow orders.
    I’m getting mad all over again, just thinking about it.
    “Easy, Jax,” Tarn says. “Save that fury for the enemy.”
    I muster a half smile. I’m tired, cranky, and missing March. But there’s more work to be done.
    “Are you two heading back to Jineba?” I ask.
    “Soon,” Tarn replies.
    Nodding, I push to my feet. “Be careful. They’ll be looking at all air-traffic logs. And thanks again for your help.”
    Leviter smiles once more, and it’s fairly alarming. “No thanks needed, Ms. Jax. We’re just getting warmed up.”
    Once I leave the conference room, I go looking for Vel. As I expected, I find him with the prisoners, who are awake…and in a fury over their incarceration. “When my prince hears what you’ve done, he’ll make you beg for death.”
    On another planet, serving a prince would be impressive, but in relation to Nicuan, such claims to royalty mean less than nothing. There have been so many emperors over the turns that pretty much all the noble houses can claim royal blood. His boss is no more important than any other.
    I address Vel instead of the captives. “The tall one, right?”
    To replicate somebody’s face, Vel needs to study it. A glance from across the plaza in the dark won’t suffice. Once he’s perfected the man’s appearance, he can slide into his life. Hence, Slider, the somewhat derogatory nickname for Ithtorians…but when I first met him, that’s exactly what he’d done with my now-deceased friend, Dr. Solaith. Doc.
    Mary bless and keep you, Doc. Wherever you are.
    “That’s the plan,” he answers.
    Of course. That will be easier for him and less painful.
    But the centurion he indicates looks terrified, not as full of bravado as his squad-mate. He glances between us, trying to figure out our plan. It won’t help.
    “Have you checked his personnel file?”
    Vel reminds me, “Communications are down.”
    Right.
I touch the intercom. “Constance, we’re ready for you.”
    My PA has been at the base since March left, facilitating completion and organizing resources. She’s also the head of R&D, along with a number of other responsibilities. Only a VI—or maybe AI is more accurate—would be capable of multitasking with such efficiency.
    “On my way.”
    “Who are you people?” the smaller soldier demands. “Torture won’t work. We will
never
reveal any of our prince’s secrets.”
    Oh, the poor bastard.
He still thinks this is some petty, house-related coup. If he had any inkling just how big the plan is, he’d piss his pants. I smile at him, which seems to make his fear worse. They’re bound to their chairs, with wrists lashed together behind their backs. If I hadn’t wasted a turn of my life trying to reason with men just like them, I might feel a flicker of pity.
    Before I can reply, Constance arrives with an armload of machinery: cords and discs and a console to monitor the whole process. The guards go from anxious to terrified, but it’s not what they think. In some ways, it’s worse. This is an insidious device, certainly, but not for the reasons they believe.
    “Which one first?” she asks.
    “The tall one.” I turn to the La’heng waiting just outside. “Take the other one back to his cell. We’ll deal with him presently.”
    Separation will ratchet up his fear as he tries to envision what horrors his friend is suffering. If we let him watch, that mental preparation might give him an edge later. Not that I’ve ever seen anyone resist this machine. Still, there’s no point in bettering the man’s odds.
    Once the La’heng guard hauls him off, struggling and kicking the whole way, Constance gets to work. She attaches wires to the centurion’s skull in proximity to the various pleasure centers of the brain. Then she discovers the perfect current through trial and error. There’s no pain, only incredible pleasure of