Chapter 3

            Iraq desert, approx. 50 miles SE of Baghdad

 

            The frigid desert air whipped in little fits across the low rolling hills.  A shadow moved amongst it—with it—his legs gliding in near silence as he set a punishing pace, his goal in sight.  Few men in the entire world could run at that pace for 5 miles, but Alexi Ramizov was no ordinary man.  He was the latest ‘graduate’ of the Mindblades.  Blessed with psychic powers that most people thought were a joke or a belief reserved for gullible old divorcees in trailer parks, the Mindblades were the elite of the elite.  A force funded by the U.S. government for black ops—missions too deadly or publicly damning to be carried out in the open—they were almost unknown; classified to such an extent that other ‘secrets’ were leaked out to cover their presence, like the ‘alien research’ being done at Area 51.  Few had any inkling that the true secret hidden in the Las Vegas desert military base had nothing to do with aliens and everything to do with a secret team of psychic assassins; psychic assassins who would never be identified.  Never leave a witness was the first rule of the Mindblades.  The dead don’t identify their attackers; don’t make claims about spinning energy swords or floating assailants in black.  And Alexi was now one of them.

            But even amongst the Mindblades, Alexi was different.  His psychic potential tests had recorded the highest numbers of anyone since Rhistal—the director of the Blades and by far the most accomplished and powerful of any of them, except possibly Alexi.  However, Alexi’s penchant for disobeying orders and hesitancy to do things ‘by the books’ caused concern, but Alexi knew he was worthy.  He would prove them wrong.  He would be the next Rhistal; perhaps greater.

            Funneling psychic energy into his body to stave off fatigue, he kept his brisk pace, covering the miles quick enough to break nearly any world record had anyone been timing him.  But Guinness’ books were the farthest thing from his mind this night.  His target was all that consumed his thoughts.

            Yusuf Ali had been terrorizing American troops with his guerilla warfare of late; his band of rebels responsible for at least 150 deaths.  Recent intelligence had him and his soldiers holed up in some remote caves in the desert.  All attempts to infiltrate his base of operations had been turned back, and the caves were far enough underground that the government wasn’t sure that bombing would do the trick.  Besides, they had been staking the place out for a week or so and seen too many women and children for their liking.  Despite what might be said, the U.S. military was still trying to avoid civilian casualties when possible.

            So the Mindblades had been contacted.  Alexi knew the only reason he had been given the job was to test him again.  If he messed this one up—as they probably expected him to—then nobody would be the wiser.  Who’s going to believe the words of some terrorist outlaw in the middle of Iraq?  Still, Alexi considered it an honor to be helping the legitimate military.  His family had a long and proud tradition of service to their country dating back to when his great grandfather had been a colonel in the Soviet Army.  After they defected to the U.S., his father had joined the Marines, as well as two of his brothers.  For all he knew, he might be saving one of their lives today.  He felt a momentary pang of guilt for being forced to lie and fake his own death in order to become a Mindblade.  It was a bittersweet feeling knowing that his papa would be proud of him for serving his country, but that if Alexi ever revealed the nature of his service, that he would then be forced to kill his own father.  And Alexi would not hesitate with the deathblow; duty demanded as much.  Never leave a witness.

            Alexi cleared his thoughts as he approached the cave system, slowing to a brisk jog and crouching lower in the Iraqi night.  He stopped about a hundred yards from the entrance, the world a hazy technological green through his night vision goggles as he scanned the front.  Guards stood or sat in the recesses of three of the caves, idly chatting as they watched the open ground in front of the cave mouths.  It was no wonder the military didn’t want to risk a frontal assault.  Anyone approaching would be seen easily and shot before they even knew they were being shot at.

            Anyone but a Mindblade.

            Alexi lowered himself to his belly and half crawled, half slithered across the sand.  The material of his black jumpsuit was designed to hold light, never reflecting it.  It did its job so well that one had to peer closely just to see wrinkles in a lit room.  In the dead of night, he had full confidence in his ability to remain unseen, especially from a bunch of untrained guards who would be watching for an army, not one man.

            His slithering crawl brought him to a small outcropping of rock that connected to the cave complex and he ducked behind it, watching.  Patience always paid of for Alexi, but he had begun to see that it was not just patience.  Good timing, proper timing always yielded the best fruits.  The reddish-brown rock swept off to his right in a slight curve, growing taller as they circled towards the caves proper.  Alexi moved behind the rocks, keeping low as he padded over the hard stone—careful to avoid the sand and revealing footprints he would leave in it.  Soon the rocks began to ascend and he climbed, still low, up the shallow slope, not stopping until a hidden sentry up ahead moved a bit.  In the grainy emerald of his technological eyes, Alexi could see the man stirring in a light sleep.

            Alexi focused, sending his consciousness outwards in a cone that swept the area for 50 yards in front of him, searching for other thoughts.  His senses seemed to bubble away flying fast across the rocks and sand, but sensing nothing besides the guard’s dreams of some strange Iraqi food.

            His senses snapped back and the Mindblade darted forward, covering the last bit of space to the sentry in five silent steps.  The guard’s eyes opened long enough to see a black figure seem to appear from nothing.  Strong arms gripped his chin and hair and he found himself looking sideways and up to the sky quickly before his sight went black again.

            Alexi lowered the guard to the ground again, his neck twisted at an impossible angle.  He moved the corpse to appear as if it were sleeping and stepped past it, scanning the desert for any signs he had been noticed.  Seeing none, he crept forward again, finally making his way to the designated spot on the top of the small hillock containing the caves.  Using microwave sensors, the military had supplied the Blades with a rough map of the interior of the cave system, including the likely cavern that served as Yusuf Ali’s sleeping chamber.  Alexi had studied the system at length, memorizing it and finding what he figured would be the least-guarded route—a series of winding tunnels that shrunk down to less than 3 feet in height at some points but connected to a small opening high up the side of the hill.  An opening that would have no need for a guard, being too high up from the ground and too far down from the top of the steep hill to be easily entered, even with appropriate climbing gear.  Peering over the edge of the rock, he saw the opening high up the hill’s sheer face.  Glancing back behind him, he checked the moon to be sure it would cast a shadow over the hill—effectively hiding him—and was satisfied at his timing; the moon would not give him away this night.  Checking below one last time for errant guards, he slipped over the edge and dropped.

            Stretching his mind, Alexi found ‘footholds’ on the hill’s face.  Grabbing them with tendrils of thought, he slowly lowered himself to the opening, making no sound as he floated through the air like a black cloud slipping into an equally dark hole.  Once inside, he settled softly, crouching in the dark tunnel as he moved quickly.  His mind extended, again, reaching out to ‘feel’ for thoughts and alert him of any guards.  But his assessment of the guard’s concern for this tunnel had been on.  No soldiers met him as me moved lower into the caves.

            He came to the shortening of the tunnel.  The roof sloped downward until it was just large enough for a man to slip through and Alexi crouched, peering through the hole.  Ali’s room should be only a few dozen feet down the tunnel from here, which meant there should be at least one guard.  Using the light from a small lantern some ways down the hall, his night vision goggles lit the cave up brightly, revealing two men standing to either side of a makeshift doorway made of nothing more than a patterned rug.  Reaching up to flick his goggles off for a moment, Alexi gauged the amount of true light in the tunnel.  He smiled, a plan forming in his mind as he saw that this portion was woefully dim for the naked eye.

            Clicking the optics on again, the assassin slid under the small gap in the tunnel.  Reaching the other side, he crouched low in the darkness.  The darkness of the tunnel posed a slight problem as his mindblades would be almost impossible to hide.  He thought a moment and waited to see if any soldiers patrolled this area; it wouldn’t do to be seen.

            After a time, Alexi became convinced that nobody would come and slipped the pair of knives he kept in his boots from their sheaths.  He crept closer, making only a whisper in the dark cave as he approached the two dead men.  Stopping a few yards away, just outside the lantern’s light, he lifted the knives, bringing them up beside his head and flicking his arms forward.  The missiles sped through the air and Alexi reached out, grabbing them with his mind in flight and forcing them forward to embed themselves into the two men’s throats.  Both reached up and grabbed, a whisper of a scream the only indication anything was wrong.  Alexi was on them in an instant, fists slamming hard into their chests, stealing the last remnants of their breath and silencing any noise they might slip past the blood rapidly filling their throats.  He caught one in each arm and lowered them to the ground silently, his head swiveling to be sure he remained unseen.

            Taking his knives back and wiping them clean on the soldier’s uniforms he snuffed the lantern and flicked his night vision on again.  He pushed an edge of the rug that made a door aside and slipped into the chamber.  The cave was irregular with a few small alcoves here and there.  A large pile of pillows lay in the center of the room with two bodies lying atop it, unmoving save for their shallow breaths: Ali and his wife.  Alexi wasn’t excited about the wife being so close.  If he used his knives, Ali would likely make just enough noise to wake someone so close, but his mindblades would light up the room.  Quickly running through his options, the assassin slipped his mindblade from its sheath.  Glancing back out of the doorway to be sure no one had come, he let the blade slip into the air, held aloft by his thoughts as it silently moved towards Ali and his wife.  The blade hovered in the air above the sleeping general and Alexi lowered it slowly, point down, until it rested a few inches form his head.  With a mental gesture, the energy blade sprung to life, lighting the room for the briefest of moments before he turned it off again.   The blade had done its job, though, searing a clean hole through the target’s head without awakening the woman.  Alexi smirked, amused at his own cleverness until he saw her stir and sit up.

            “Yusuf?” she said, touching her husband’s body.

            Light flared again, making a circle in the air as it spun, the energy blade cutting cleanly through her in less than a breath.  She crumpled to the pile of pillows, smoke trailing from her body in the dim light cast by the mindblade.

            Alexi pulled the blade to his hand, annoyed at his failure to do it without being seen.  The mindblade went dark and Alexi went to replace it when another form slowly emerged form one of the alcoves.  Alexi narrowed his eyes and crouched, hands going to his weapons, but no soldier appeared.  Instead, a small girl—no more than eight—crawled from her own bed with wide, terrified eyes.  She stared at the specter that was Alexi the Mindblade, mouth agape in disbelief as she clutched her thin blanket to her chest, already shaking with sobs.

            Alexi grimaced.  Already this mission felt sloppy, a failure.  Two people had seen him.  But such was the way of things, he supposed.  No intel was ever perfect and the human response was rarely completely predictable.  He couldn't control the appearance of unexpected people while on a mission.  But he could control what those people saw and said; whether they could spread the tale of the secret assassins who weren't supposed to exist.  Never leave a witness.

            Alexi’s mindblade leapt from his hand a second time.