Wormhole Cultivation [Book 2] - Chapter 69: Trick Shot (Patreon)

Novak knew how to pose.

He sat in someone else’s armchair, in a fake office, beneath a fake window, and looked as though he’d lived there for twenty years. One leg crossed over the other, an elbow on the armrest, a cup of steaming tea in his hand. On one side, the wall with the paintings; on the other, the window.

He was in full Great One mode.

He took a sip, savoured the tea, and set the cup on the table.

He smiled mockingly.

“Lost something, Ghaurzakh?” he asked.

Some Six or other addressing him while seated, by his bare name, when Sevens fell to their knees before him, was a deliberate insult. But that was exactly what Novak intended. He meant to make the enemy howl with rage.

The Great One held out his left hand, index finger pointing upwards, and Trazgul’s head appeared on it. He spun it with his right.

The head turned long enough for everyone who would watch the video to enjoy Novak’s dexterity. He tossed it into the air and caught it with both hands, horns up, faceplate towards the camera. The camera loved the details: blackened metal swollen from the heat, a crack across the visor, torn strands of flesh sticking out of the neck.

Novak set the head on his finger again and spun it, then gripped it as if to throw and continued the motion without it; the head vanished into his spatial pocket.

“Your lads left this behind in the mountains,” Novak said, looking at his hands with distaste. He passed his hand over the table, and the same packet of wet wipes appeared there, the one he’d been given earlier, when he’d soiled his previous shirt.

Novak took one out and began wiping his hands.

“I can give it back,” he said without looking at the camera, and then, when he raised his eyes, his smile turned nasty. “If, of course, you’re not afraid of meeting in person.”

He tossed the wipe onto the tea table, took out another and carried on cleaning.

“Either way, call me back. I’m sure you’ll find a way to get in touch.”

Novak looked into the camera for a few more seconds for dramatic effect, then came back to life.

“Are we done?”

The cameraman glanced at Artem, the senior person in the lab, but he just shrugged.

“How should I know?” He glanced sideways at Kaluya, who was unusually pensive. The general said nothing, so Artem went on. “I’m a scientist, not a PR man. Though we could do a few more takes, to be on the safe side.”

“No more takes!” the doctor protested. He was only a Four, but a fairly insistent one. “I want to see you in a radiation treatment capsule in ten minutes, sir!”

“No can do, doc!” Novak replied, getting up. “I’m expected at Outer Oort No. 1.”

The doctor swore under his breath.

“At the very least, you need a course of injections and external decontamination, so you don’t contaminate anyone else.”

“Then we’d better get started,” my master said, shamelessly taking off his clothes and stripping for a foam bath in the adjoining glass box. He paused for a moment and looked at Kaluya. “This needs to be leaked online as soon as possible.”

“Command may have other ideas,” Kaluya said, shaking his head.

“To hell with command!” Novak replied. “If I waited for permission every time, we’d be completely in the shit by now!”

Kaluya burst out laughing.

“And this isn’t completely?”

“Completely will be when Ghaurzakh is standing as close to me as you are now!” Novak answered with a smile.

Kaluya grunted, and I saw something I’d never seen before. He straightened and saluted Novak.

To him, it must have signified extraordinary respect, because Novak returned a deep bow. And only then did he carry on undressing.

After the shower, the injections in his shoulders and stomach, and another litre of drugs, he put his black combat jumpsuit back on. And so we travelled: stone filtration chamber, space base.

Little had changed at the Oort bases since I’d last been there. At least at this one. There might have been fewer people at the Inner Oort. After all, the bases there had been set up purely as outposts for crossing the Oort Cloud and reaching the star system's outer edges, out to the wormhole.

Oh, and they’d improved the artificial gravity, raising it from a third to a comfortable one g, so I didn’t have to adjust my stride.

The Federates had their largest embassy here, at Outer Oort No. 1: several entire compartments with independent power supply, life support and defence systems. They had installed and maintained them themselves, so it was safe to say this was exactly where they spied on us from.

And at the head of it all stood Master Aoran.

Ironically, he and Novak both held official diplomatic titles, but by now I did not doubt that Aoran also held some rank in intelligence. Perhaps not in Counterintelligence, like Novak, but that was because the Ka Federation had the luxury of looking outwards, whereas for humans, for many years and even centuries, the critical task had been rooting out demons in our own ranks.

Aoran received us in a room that looked nothing like an office. With its all-white furnishings, it looked more like a hospital ward filled with random objects.

Bare white walls, a low table with cushions instead of chairs, a teapot and cups, all white. The only splash of colour was the yellow-skinned Aoran in a blue robe with silver embroidery. If it weren’t for the room’s overall whiteness and his long, sharp knees sticking up high above the table, you could have called it Japanese style.

It wasn’t, of course. Most likely, it was xeltar style. I suspected their third eye saw far more than just qi, and that was easier against a white background. Hence the white room as a backdrop, to see the other party better, and the bright clothes to conceal himself.

I didn’t know how that would work with us and our black jumpsuits. They ought to stand out against a white background too.

Aoran nodded to us and gestured for us to sit, pouring hot tea from the white teapot into white cups. Good thing the tea wasn’t white. It was faintly greenish.

“Jake, congratulations on your victory over a Six!” he said. “Your achievements truly outstrip every reasonable forecast. But it seems to be giving your master false confidence in his own strength.” Aoran mockingly raised all three eyebrows and looked at Novak.

Novak smiled and saluted Aoran with his cup.

“You know better than anyone that I assess my own strength soberly,” he said before taking a sip.

“Then where do these foolish thoughts of defeating an Eight come from? You’re not even in your best shape right now. Far from it!” Aoran raised a hand, cutting off the reply. “First, I want to hear how Jake defeated a Six. It’s connected, if I’m not mistaken? I see you didn’t spare yourself either and recently drained yourself almost to zero,” he said, turning to me. “So tell me about your battles and your achievements.”

I quickly wet my throat before answering.

“Technically, Adam finished the Six off,” I said. “I only held him in place.” And then I went into the details.

When I’d finished, Novak took over. He told him about the bomb, Trazgul, and Vezhkar, and finished with the video.

Aoran didn’t like that.

“He’ll do everything he can to kill you. Reputation is decisive for a clan leader, and you’ve given him a resounding slap in the face.” Aoran shook his head. His eyes went blank, as if he wasn’t looking at us but was locked in analysis inside his head. “It would be more logical for him to finish capturing the planet, but now you’ll be his priority.”

“Good!” Novak said. “I hope he tries to do it personally.”

Aoran looked at Novak sadly.

“You do understand that if you meet in person, even if you deal him a mortal blow and Vezhkar, as you hope, takes advantage of the situation and finishes him off, you won’t survive it. And that sacrifice will be in vain. Nothing will change for Earth.”

“Are you joking?” Novak asked. “We already have the advantage in Sixes! Without the Eight, we can literally throw bodies at the demons and crush them with numbers. Add a couple of tricks to that, and they won’t just have to retreat, they’ll have to run for it!”

“And then what?” Aoran asked. “It will attract the attention of other clans, and the next invasion will come better organised.”

“Let’s survive this invasion first!” Novak said with a smile.

“You won’t survive it if you don’t abandon this plan!”

“The only alternative is to hand Vezhkar over to Ghaurzakh,” Novak said, shaking his head. “Compared to his uncle, the nephew is like a participation prize next to the cup.”

“Well, there’s no need to rush that either. Vezhkar could be useful. Participation prizes aren’t all that bad; it’s just a matter of perspective,” Aoran joked.

“How?” Novak asked. “Because I honestly don’t see any use in him. He’s too effective as a fighter and a commander. Family is his only weak spot, albeit in a rather unusual sense. So if he isn’t going to be my knife in Ghaurzakh’s back, I’d better get rid of him.”

“Turn him into your spy,” Aoran suggested.

Novak thought about it seriously.

“The video I’ve published is already online. If not right now, then very soon, both Vezhkar’s and Ghaurzakh’s emotions will peak. They’ll be at their most vulnerable to any influence, but if I give them time, they’ll recover and be able to counter it. I’m not sure I can keep this noose around his neck forever. What’s more, the longer I drag it out, the more questions there’ll be about why I didn’t present the evidence straight away…

“The witnesses could ‘die on missions’. And Vezhkar can always say our drone data is fake. And I’m not sure his uncle would kill him. He’s too useful!”

Novak shook his head, dismissing the idea.

“One of them has to die now!” he said, his head-shake turning into a nod. “So I’ll meet Ghaurzakh, show my cards and try to wound him. If we’re lucky, they’ll finish each other off. The daughter clans will be at each other’s throats, and the organised invasion will be over.”

Aoran looked at Novak for a long time.

“The nuke trick won’t work,” he said. “At the Stage Eight, a cultivator is more energy than flesh and blood. Yes, he still looks solid, but fundamentally he is as far from ordinary mortals as possible. A mere release of energy, however powerful, won’t kill him.

“If anything, a nuke would do more harm to Vezhkar, and he wouldn’t be able to do what you want of him.”

“I wasn’t counting on that,” Novak said. “It would be too easy. That said, I drew inspiration from Jake’s idea.” My master turned to me. “Show him the Trouble Generators.

“Actually…” Novak looked around. “We won’t trigger any security alerts here if Jake uses Blade and Space techniques?”

Aoran tilted his head, intrigued.

“No, all the security systems are under my personal control.”

It was my turn to look around. There was extraordinarily little room here to activate Double Cycle comfortably. I had to make sure I didn’t fall flat on my face!

Especially with two old masters watching me with curiosity and… hope?

The Great One must be slipping if he’s counting on me this much.

Or maybe I was actually growing?

To hell with it, I wouldn’t know unless I tried.