A Darker Shade Of Pale

[Keeper]

“I told you before, she’s none of your concern,” Karkarov said, then stopped, studying the agent.
“I hit had her stripped naked and beat her with a belt, then I raped her,” he said matter-of-factly, and on seeing Black’s face darken, he quickly added, “But you will accept this and do nothing about it.”
The command battered against Blacks defences which were momentarily stunned by the news and was scarcely able to fight off the oppressive words.
Karkarov struggled to read the man’s face – he seemed in turmoil. “Does that bother you?”
Answer… answer… tell him… came the command and off-guard as Black’s mind now was, it reacted too slowly.
“Yes, it does,” he answered, horrified.
“Why?” Answer… answer…Black couldn’t resist. “Must resist,” he thought but the words tore painfully from his mouth. “She is somebody I knew on another world.”
“Who?”
ANSWER!! The command shouted.
“My dead wife.” Bastard! Black didn’t say aloud.
Karkarov just grinned.
“How did you get to this world?” the Russian changed the subject.
The secret! Blacks mind focussed on the secret, but Karkarov had a hold on him now and Black struggled to push him out.
“Parachronic Conveyor,” he said.
“A machine?”
“Yes.”
Karkarov grinned again. “I’ve needed someone on the inside. It has taken some effort to get someone here, and you’re it. You will help me get one of these conveyors. You will help me, Mr Black, won’t you?”
Obey… obey… obey… help him… obey…
“Aaaarrrgggghhhh…!!” Black’s mind yelled at the command, sending it reeling away like a scolded dog.
Karkarov swooned and pressed a hand to his forehead, massaging his temple.
What is this? Karkarov thought as he screwed his eyes up tight.
He caught hold of a sofa to steady himself.
There had been a scream and then pain. Was this investigator resisting? That was one of his most powerful commands and no one had ever resisted them before.

[Keeper]

Caleb Black let out a long sigh.
In his mind’s eye all was at peace again, the commands from Karkarov batted away as black regained control.
Pieces of the puzzle were slotting into place now that he was able to think clearly again.
“Karkarov wanted someone on the inside of the Infinity organisation in order for him to get his hands on a Conveyor. And he’s a telepath – a puppeteer, in fact.” Black thought silently.
The Infinity agent had, at first, wondered if Karkarov was a passive psychic, thinking himself very persuasive, but not knowing why people so readily did as he asked. But now it was quite apparent that Karkarov was well aware of his ability, able to alter the level of insistence from gentle hint to bellowing order.
Another thought came to Black then. Could it just be possible that Karkarov himself was behind the attacks? Had he organised for the bomb and the financial embezzlement?
With his apparent levels of power it wouldn’t take much for him to command the accused men to plant the bomb or embezzle funds, and then forget that they ever did it.
Karkarov must have either guessed or found out through Mavin that Infinity would get involved if someone were to openly threaten one of their important assets. It was a sure fire way of getting someone with higher security clearance to come to Calicos.

But the Russian had made one or two errors; first he had failed to understand that he couldn’t just take a conveyor, the ones on this world were not portable, and second, he had underestimated Infinity.

[Keeper]

Boris Karkarov had his eyes screwed up as though he was peering into a very bright light. He was also fighting off the most horrendous headache he had ever had. Through his squinting vision he could see Black sitting relaxed where he had been all along.
“Answer me!” Karkarov hissed through gritted teeth, still trying to regain control.
Answer… answer…
Black climbed from his chair and cocked his head as a man examining an unexpected or unusual item.
The powerful command seemed no more bothersome than a fly buzzing around his head.
“No, Mr Karkarov, I will not help you. Nor will I submit to your commands any longer. You were foolish to reveal yourself so soon, before you knew what you were up against. Consider yourself lucky that I have orders to protect you, otherwise you would be dead. However my report is not going to look favourably on your choices and your actions.

The throbbing was already subsiding and as the almost blinding pain receded, so Karkarov’s anger surged forward.
“You what?” he bellowed. “You will obey me!”
Still he does not understand, Black shook his head as the command crashed against the barrier in his mind and shattered into a thousand pieces like glass.
Black walked towards the door without another word.

[Keeper]

The Russian was not used to being ignored when he gave such commands, but he was also a strategist, and had planned for such a mishap. He hadn’t been sure just how effective his power would be against these – aliens.
“There’s more than one way to skin a cat, Mr Black,” Karkarov said in a sinister tone.
Black pulled the door open.
“Wait!” Karkarov now pleaded, and Black looked back at him.
“It’s over, Mr Karkarov,” he said.
Laughing Karkarov said, “Not yet it isn’t!”
Alerm bells went off in Black’s mind. He turned to see Karkarov’s two bodyguards in the hall. One had a gun pointed at him. The man pulled the trigger before Black could react.
It sounded all wrong and the slap on his leg didn’t feel like other times he had been shot.
Looking down Black saw the pink tufted flight on the end of the dart.
Shit!
He ran, pulling the dart out and throwing it aside.
Already his legs were heavy and sluggish, and his head was beginning to become groggy.
Hi couldn’t make it to the front door, his mind was too cloudy, his abilities cut off by the anaesthetic running through is veins and he dropped to his knees at the foot of the wide marble stairs that led up to the next floor.
There was another figure on the stairs, frozen halfway down, her face an expression of abject fear, the mascara around her eyes was smudged and running in streaks down her cheeks.
Her hair was a mess and her maid’s uniform dishevelled and torn.
“Nikki” Black called out, barely able to speak as he dropped into unconsciousness on the floor.

[Keeper]

Caleb Black felt sick as the world began to coalesce around him.
It felt as though the world was moving, spinning around his head. As his eyes opened he saw the room and had to shut them again as bile rose in his throat from the nausea.
Slowly he opened them again, ready this time for the image of the upside down room.
Karkarov’s two bodyguards were there, one sitting in an armchair playing solitaire with a deck of cards. The other was standing near Black, watching baseball on a portable TV.
“He’s waking up, go and get the boss,” the nearer one said.
Black’s head pounded as he watched the man walk out of the room on the ceiling and he realised it was him that was inverted, not the room.
“Too slow,” Black cursed his own mind for its sluggishness.
“Quiet!” the bodyguard said, emphasising his point by punching Black in the stomach.
The wind rushed from Black’s lungs and his throat burned as acid from his stomach surged into his mouth.
He threw up, coughing and blinking as the vomit flowed up his nose and into his own eyes.
“You filthy bastard!” the bodyguard swore, jumping back from the suspended man.

[Keeper]

Boris Karkarov entered dramatically. This morning he was dressed in comfortable casual slacks and shirt.
“Good morning, Mr Black, how’s it hanging?” he laughed heartily at his own joke.

Black was struggling to focus his mind, what with the stinging bile and throbbing pressure in his hand.
Slowly his mind’s eye crept forward, leaving his corporeal self and projecting out into the room.
This place was dark and full of equipment he had seen before on some of the DVD’s in Karkarov’s office. There were tables and chairs and a set of stocks all standard S&M dungeon stuff.
Then there was the device that he was attached to; an X shaped frame that could lean forward and back and rotate.
Black realised he must have been upside down for some time as his face was bright red and puffy.
They had stripped away most of his clothing, thankfully leaving him with his modesty.
Black had seen Karkarov perform at this cross on some of his home-movies.

Karkarov looked up and down the tethered body. It was lean and muscular, bearing more than a few scars, but what intrigued him most were the bizarre tattoos that festooned his body.

Ignoring them for the moment he moved over to a silver case sitting on a bench at the side of the room. Black watched from outside himself as the Russian extracted a hypodermic needle from the case.
“You proved rather resistant to my demands yesterday, Agent Black,” Karkarov said as he filled the syringe from a small bottle.
“I have here an interesting concoction that will help you get over the anaesthetic. It might also have something in it that will make you more open to my suggestions.”

Realising too late, once more, Black returned to his own mind and concentrated on controlling his body. He needed to burn off the drug before it took effect.

“Tell me about you odd tattoos,” Karkarov instructed.
Tell… tell… came the insidious whispers and Black, distracted by his own efforts to combat the drug failed to defend himself against them.
“They are ritual markings. They show my place and rank in the Obsidian Gestalt on Pheonix.” He couldn’t stop himself speaking; the commands were just too strong for him at the moment and this was something he was never comfortable talking about.

Luckily for him, Karkarov didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.

The pain in his head, the disorientation, the nausea and the drugs made him lose his grip on his own mind and it summoned up an image of Nikki Simmons being raped on this very cross.
“It’s not Nikki!” Black shouted at himself, unaware that he had just vocalised the reprimand.

Karkarov laughed. “Oh yes! She was very surprised to hear you call her that, as was I. She doesn’t use her forename, even I didn’t know it, she’d always been Christine, or Chrissie. How is it that you know her again?”
Tell… tell… answer…
“She was my wife.”
“On another world?”
“Yes.”
“Very interesting. And these worlds, are they more like parallel universes rather than different planets?”
“Some are.”
“You said she was your wife. You are divorced?” Karkarov probed.
“She is dead.” You bastard, Black thought silently.
“So it must have been a bit of a shock to find her here. I would say what a small world, but I’m not sure that’s entirely appropriate in this case. Does she look exactly the same?”
“Different hair.”
Karkarov sighed getting bored now. “And you miss her?” he probed again, deliberately grating on the raw nerve.
“More than I thought,” Black answered, surprising himself with the statement.
“That could be useful,” the Russian muttered.

[Keeper]

“Tell me what you know of these… Parachronic conveyors,” Boris Karkarov instructed when he returned from his lunch.
Black didn’t answer right away, he was struggling with ‘The Secret’ that Infinity held so dear, but eventually he had to give in to the command.
“They are transportation devices that allow you to travel through time and….” He paused searching for the right phraseology.
“Dimensions,” he finally settled on.
“And you can operate one of these devices?”
“I have some basic knowledge of their operation.”
Karkarov glared at his captive. He so hated it when they told him things he didn’t want to hear.
“If I had one could you set it to go anywhere?”
“No.”
Karkarov didn’tlike being told no either, but in this case he had to put his annoyance aside as a pointless distraction, for the moment anyway.
“Who can?”
“Stations have operator teams, they are technicians who use and maintain the facilities, and some senior members of the Patrol are given training in their more detailed operations as are all members of the survey teams.”
The rotund Russian didn’t like the sound of ‘senior members of the Patrol’. They sounded like they’d have lots of people around them wherever they went.
“How do I get a technician?”
“You won’t.” black said flatly. “Techies don’t go into the field often and certainly not at the request of a native.”
Karkarov thought this over for a while. It made sense, but there had to be someone who he could isolate and use. “Could you call for one?”
“Not without a damned good reason and they would come as a team.”
Survey team then? Do you know any of them?”
“Yes.”
Karkarov smiled. “Get one for me.”
The command was a very strong one.
Black shook his head despairingly. “They won’t come here, they’ve already surveyed this world.”
Karkarov let out a yell of frustration. He wanted a conveyor, that was the important thing. He could set someone to reverse-engineer the damned thing if necessary.
“How do I get my hands on one of these conveyors?”
“You’d have to take over a hub facility, but Infinity won’t let you keep it for long. They send at least one kill team with orders to take out you or the facility, or both.”
“No one’s going to take me out, Mr Black, no one!” Karkarov spat and stamped a foot. “And you will not mention any such thing again.”
“I won’t,” Black promised.

[Keeper]

Karkarov was getting frustrated now. He’d invested too much time in planning and too much money nearly collapsing his company to be thwarted now.
He moved to a cupboard and removed a three foot length of hose.
“This,” he said waving the black rubber in front of Black’s eyes, “is a rubber hose. A favourite of many of our governments covert agencies for getting information from prisoners. Causes a fair amount of trauma damage without leaving much of a mark. It can ruin a person’s internal organs. I read that the Gestapo made much use of it in the Fifties.”

Karkarov positioned himself in frot of the agent and began beating him with the hose. He kept going until his arm ached and the body before him was purple with bruising and blood oozed in a constant stream from the man’s mouth.

Panting with exertion Karkarov paced around the room. “How do infinity get to worlds you haven’t been to before?” he asked finally, turning to the inverted prisoner.
“Portable conveyor,” Black replied, although his words came out in a bubbling gurgle.
“I knew it!” Karkarov hopped with glee, his face bright. “You’re a strong one, I’ll give you that. I asked you specific questions and you gave me the bare minimum of answer. You will be more forthcoming from now on.”
“Yes.”
“Good! Can you get me a portable conveyor?”
“No.”
“You know someone who can?”
“Wallace…”
Karkarov grinned as a plan hatched in his mind. He would get her alone, where no one else would see or hear, and command her to supply one.
Looking at Black’s beaten and swollen body he imagined the cute blond form of Susan Wallace in his place, tied to the frame. He felt a stirring in his loins.

Opening the ‘Room’s’ door he summoned his bodyguards.
“Kill him and get rid of the body,” he instructed.
The two muscled men nodded and moved in past their employer.
“Wait!” Karkarov said. “Don’t kill him yet, I may need him alive.”
With that the Russian closed the door on Caleb Black.

[Keeper]

“Mavin,” Karkarov said into the cell phone.
“One moment sir,” replied his secretary.
“Paul Mavin,” the Head of Security for Zenith Corporation answered.
“Paul, I want you to get Miss Wallace for me, arrange a meeting in my office. Tell her I must speak with her on a delicate matter concerning the investigator she has sent.”
“May I ask what that matter might be?” Mavin was Infinity and he knew the I-Cops didn’t like to be summoned for no good reason, especially by local assets.
“Of course,” Karkarov said uncharacteristically. “It seems there is someone on my staff that could prove a serious distraction to him and cloud his judgement.”
“Very well, sir, I’ll contact her office straight away.”
Karkarov knew he would, Mavin couldn’t help but do as he asked.

[Keeper]

Boris Karkarov listened to the heads of his divisions argue back and forth, each trying to score points off of their fellow directors.
The Russian had already switched off to the inane twittering. His thoughts were now with the undiscovered worlds he would visit, and exploit!
He was so close now, he could almost taste it.

A knock at the boardroom door brought the heated conversation to a halt.
The door opened and a man in his mid-twenties entered. He was sweating and the Zenith Corporate Security uniform he wore was straining at the seams.
The conference phone in front of Karkarov rang and a little cautiously he answered it. Everyone else stared expectantly at the guard.
“Yes, hello?” Karkarov said to the caller.
“Mackenzie, sir, Duty Security Manager,” came the voice over the loud speaker.
“How can I help?” Karkarov said calmly, staring at the guard, who had so far said nothing.
“Our men have just found one of our guards unconscious. His uniform is missing. I think that our security has been compromised, sir. Shall I order the building shut down while we conduct a search for the imposter?”
“No need, Mr Mackenzie,” Karkarov replied. “I think we have your imposter here with us in the boardroom.”
Several eyes turned to the phone on the desk, and then back to their unexpected guest.
“Understood sir. There is a team on its way. What is the man doing?”
“Nothing, he does have one of your nasty looking rifles over his shoulder.”
“Do not do anything brash, Mr Karkarov, and don’t let him know there are people on their way up.”
“It’s a bid late for that, comrade. How long?”
“Thirty Seconds, sir.”
Karkarov gave an almost imperceptible nod, his eyes locked with the imposter’s.
It was the signal the Man had been waiting for.
He unslung the assault rifle and clicked off the safety in one swift move.
“Oh my god!” one of the board members gasped.
It was too late; the man squeezed the trigger sending a hail of bullets out into the sitting businessmen.
The noise was deafening and the staccato retort of the rifle drowned out the terrified screams of the Board of Directors.
The assailant walked the bullets up one row of seated men and women, then started on the opposite side.
Karkarov tensed despite himself as the man to his immediate right collapsed over the table, several holes in his chest and head.
He kicked his chair backwards toppling it to make it look as though he was trying to escape, even though he knew the man would not shoot him.

The door to the conference room burst open again and more uniformed men came in.
They were already bearing arms and the lead three men fired their weapons at the imposter.
Well trained, all three shooters found their mark, each hitting the man with a controlled three-round burst.
The attacker had so far shot at least three-quarters of the Board, killing several and leaving only four, plus Karkarov, unharmed.

There was momentary silence as more security guards came in and secured the room.
Then one board-member let out a half-agonised, half-terrified wail.
“Medic!” yelled one of the guards and a different kind of hell broke loose in the board room.