Sanctum of the Primus
Hilton Head, Terra
July 18, 3043
The two ROM bodyguards from Mu carefully shut the doors behind Myndo after she entered her private quarters buried deep beneath the island off the coast of Carolina. She lowered her hood and walked over to the sideboard setup in the parlour, where she poured herself a glass of red wine. And she jumped in shock as a voice broke the silence.
“Your plans have failed, Primus.â€
Myndo turned around cursing at the wine stains on the front of robes, and she snarled. “How did you get in here?â€
The adept rose from an overstuffed wing chair facing the flickering fireplace and he turned to face the Primus of ComStar. “Here at the heart of ComStar, Primus, who pays attention to a simple Adept of the Order? Did I startle you?â€
“Thomas, I haven’t the patience for your games this evening,†Myndo growled as she ceased trying to wipe away the stains—but she had only succeeded in marring more of her robes. “What do you want?â€
“To inform you that your plans have failed, Primus.â€
She stopped, and looked up at the misshapen, horribly scared man, his features half concealed by the hooded robes he wore. Not even the cybernetic prosthetics which had been surgically implanted could restore his full range of movement—the explosion and fire which nearly killed him had been that severe. “Failed, Thomas? I have provoked the Clans of Kerensky into a conflict with Hanse Davion from which the FedCom will never recover—the Kuritas as well will be destroyed, leaving only our favored Free Worlds League and ComStar to pick up the pieces from the ashes and rebuild. When they have all bled themselves white, then we shall move and finish their destruction. I have not failed; I have fulfilled the promise of ComStar. We shall have peace in my time.â€
“No, Myndo, you have failed. Your bomb will not kill the ilKhan—I have seen to that.â€
“Explain yourself,†she whispered in a low growl. “And you will refer to me by my title, Adept Thomas.â€
“Myndo, did you think that I, Thomas Marik, would never discover that it was not my cousin who planted that bomb on Atreus—but a ROM agent acting at your direction? Did you think that I would never ferret out that my injuries, although severe, were not as crippling as you had hoped for? That you ordered my surgeons to purposely maim and scar me, to prevent someone with the knowledge I possessed from assuming the role of a Lord of a Great House? Hmmmmm?â€
Thomas walked over to the side board and he poured himself a glass of wine, and took a sip. “It was a bold plan, I grant you that. But then I lived. And too many people within ComStar knew of that for you to quietly kill me. But then you made your mistake, Myndo; you replaced me with a double, implanted with my memories, a double that you believed loyal to you. You are wrong—I am Thomas Marik; he is Thomas Marik; and we have always been loyal first and foremost to ourselves. You kept me alive, even after your duplicate replaced me; as a court jester, perhaps. Condemned to a lowly rank, and shuffled back and forth among the Divisions here. I was seen as nothing more than your plaything—an object of derision and horror to be ignored as harmless. That was your mistake, Myndo.â€
“I do not know where you are getting this disinformation, Thomas, these lies,†Myndo said slowly, with a pleasing smile on her face. “You know this is not true.â€
“Ah, Myndo, but it is. While you have cast your vision on the broad picture, I have been working on the details—you will find that ROM is no longer yours, but instead mine. I have full access to the confidential files—and I spoke with my surgeons at length before they died under my interrogation.â€
“So it is revenge you want?â€
“Actually, I was content in my role as a hermit monk, safe and hidden in the shadows. I never wanted to be Captain-General; I had a vocation, you well know, and I only wanted to serve Blake and humanity. I was content, until I learned through my connections of what you intended to do—the conflagration you planned to ignite. That is not serving humanity, Myndo. You condemn millions of the innocent to death for your own personal gain—that is not the Will and Word of Blake.â€
“It is too late, Thomas, you cannot stop this.â€
“I already have, Myndo,†Thomas said sharply. “My agents were aboard your ship when it departed Terra two years ago. They had orders to ensure that your device would not get within a thousand kilometers of the ilKhan. There will be no holocaust amongst the civilians of the Inner Sphere in response to what you attempted.†He paused and took another sip of wine. “And that was when I realized that you must be removed, Myndo Waterly. You are ill, and I wish you to receive care from medical professionals in an environment where you can injure none—not even yourself.â€
“I AM PRIMUS!†Myndo screeched, and she hit the panic button concealed within the folds of her robes. In answer, the guards at the door burst in, their weapons raised. “KILL HIM!†she spat.
Thomas raised one hand. “Lower your weapons and return to your post, Adept Caleb, Adept Lars. The situation is well in hand.â€
The ROM agents slowly lowered their weapons as the Primus stared at them in shock. “As you command, Primus,†they answered and closed the door behind them.
Thomas chuckled and he shook his head. “You always ignored the details in favor of the big picture, Myndo. I, on the other hand, have long been aware that it is the little cogs inside the machine that allow it to function. Step aside; you have my word that you will live out your life in comfort—but you will never wield political power again, Myndo.â€
“NEVER!†she screamed as she pulled out a concealed micro-laser from her pocket and fired into the abdomen of Thomas, who grunted and staggered as the beam cut and burnt through his lower chest and abdomen, steam rising from the flash-heated blood. But the beam ended, and Thomas rose back to his feet, even as he pressed one hand against the horrific wound to keep his intestines from spilling.
Myndo tried to fire again, but the micro-laser held only that single shot. “You would have . . . fared better with . . . a slug-thrower, . . . Myndo,†he gasped. “Lasers that do . . . not kill immediately . . . depend on shock and pain . . . to incapacitate . . . their victims. I am . . . no stranger . . . to pain.â€
He staggered forward, and Myndo turned to run, but Thomas grabbed her from behind, and she heard the wet sploosh as his intestines and blood dropped onto the floor. But his arms—the mechanical arms she had ordered the surgeons to fit upon him after sawing off the still intact living limbs—; those arms and hands still had strength, and they circled around her throat. She tried to scream, but she could only try to draw a gasping breath beneath their constricting hold.
“Perhaps this is for the best, Myndo,†Thomas whispered, as his blood pooled on the floor at his feet. “Given the power of your rank, perhaps I would have seen my soul transformed in something as monstrous as my appearance—I might well have become you. Let us die together, then.â€
The last thing Myndo heard, as her sight began to gray was the crack of her vertebra as Thomas twisted her head with the last of his strength. And then both collapsed upon the floor. And the lights went out for the last time.