Redemption of Light (The Light Trilogy) (25 page)

“Yes, Master.”

The nolo came to life—

Slothen walked forward and put the pistol in the child’s limp hand, folding her fingers around the grips. Once she felt the weight of the weapon, Amirah lifted the pistol expertly. Slothen smiled, baring his needle-sharp teeth. They gleamed in the light streaming through the door.
“She called me
‘nahash,’
that means serpent in the Gamant language, Amirah. Yes, do you understand? Serpent.”

The child nodded and her face contorted against something too terrible to be borne. She screamed jaggedly and fell to the floor on her knees, the pistol still clutched in her hands.

Her grandmother crawled across the floor and enfolded Amirah tightly in her arms, pulling her to her blood-soaked chest and rocking her tenderly.
“Shh, baby! Don’t cry. I don’t know what they’ve done, but you must remember who you are. Don’t be a pawn for them!”

Slothen backed away toward the door. Just before exiting, he whispered,
“Serpent, Amirah
—
‘nahash.’“
Darkness fell over the room.

Amirah sobbed in wild despair and fought madly, insanely, shrieking and trying to get away, but the old woman managed to hold her fast.

‘Wo,
Amirah! It’s me! It’s Sefer—Grandmama! I love you, baby. Stop this! Don’t let them
…”

Amirah jerked one arm free, lifted the pistol and triggered it. The shot severed her grandmother’s head. Blood splashed Amirah in hot red gouts and she screamed and screamed.

Slothen cut the holo completely. The room went dark until he turned up the lights. His blue forehead shimmered in the glare. “What do you think?”

Mastema fingered his withered chin. The lavender walls suddenly seemed too bright, too stark. He swallowed convulsively. “It might work. Now I understand why you wanted her in the hands of the Underground. That’s certainly where
he
would be—
if they know who he is.
When are you sending the armada to Horeb for cleanup duty?”

“They were dispatched days ago.”

CHAPTER 25

As the
Marburg
approached the tumbling rocks of the asteroid belt, Williamson heaved a sigh and got out of his chair to pace the carpet of the upper level. The three sixty screens glimmered. He studied the activities of each level of the ship. Deck four mess was scurrying to deter mine the cause of a dispenser malfunction. Engineering had suffered a minor inexplicable fire in one of the com units monitoring the singularity drive maintenance section. The flames had been quenched, but Engineer Tulem reported continuing efforts to determine the cause. He’d dedicated five of his twenty member crew to the project.

Williamson rubbed a hand over his moist bald head and squinted at the details. Curious. One of the engineering techs had noted “swelling blackness hovering over the com unit” just before it burst into flames. His heart started to throb suddenly, even before he heard Vela Kerr scream:

“Captain!”

Williamson glanced at her, then rapidly followed her gaze to the forward screen. Twenty, no thirty, ships dropped out of vault from different directions to form four flying wedges that streaked through the belt. He dove for his command chair.

“Shields on full! For God’s sake, Kerr, get us out of here. We’ve got to have maneuvering room!”

“I can’t!” she shouted back. “We’re surrounded!”

The deck shuddered beneath Williamson’s boots, building to a violent gut-raking quake that shook all the hope out of his soul. Gouts of violet fire spun from the invading armada. Combining their firepower, they poured every erg into the
Marburg.
Stunned and desperate, he shrieked, “Return fire! Target that cruiser!”

Cannon blasts flashed from the
Marburg,
lancing the big silver ship. But his own shields began to waver, fluctuating wildly under the concentrated attack. Individually, these petty craft could do nothing to him! But when orchestrated in concert, they could kill him and his entire crew in less than a heartbeat.

“No, no!”
Toktaga yelled shrilly. Dark hair fringed her forehead. “We’ve been ambushed!”

The lights on the bridge flickered. Consoles flared, overloaded, and went dead. Shields three, four, and five vanished, leaving the entire port side vulnerable. Williamson’s shocked brain could barely take it all in. His lips moved spasmodically with soundless orders.

Kerr spun around in her chair. “What are we going to do?
Captain!”

“I—I don’t—”

“We’ve got to escape this formation or we’re dead, damn it!”

“I—we …
Ram that cruiser!”
he shouted in a flash of illumination, coming half out of his seat.
“Full speed ahead!”

She lunged to comply and the g-force slammed Williamson back into his chair. He clutched the arms as his ship hurtled headlong through a flickering obstacle course of freighters and starsails. Violet beams continued to rake the
Marburg.

Williamson watched mutely as shields one and two buckled and collapsed. His body tingled with numbness.
If he’d only stayed close to the
Hammadi,
he and Stein could have concentrated fire and blasted these petty ships to kingdom come….

He sucked in a sharp breath. The head-on shot that whirled from the enemy cruiser lanced Engineering and split his ship in half. Reaction mass boiled out across the blackness of space.

He barely heard himself scream.

Relief drenched Jeremiel when they exited vault and saw only three cruisers. “Sound battle stations, Eli,” he commanded.

“Aye, sir,” his communications officer input the order and a flurry of activity swept the bridge, officers checking energy readings, reconfirming calculations already laid into the ship’s computers. Blue alert flared on the overhead monitors.

Jeremiel braced himself as the
Zilpah
shot toward the two cruisers orbiting Horeb. One of those vessels had reacted with stunning swiftness. Already cannon fire splashed his shields in blasts of purple. But on every monitor he saw his own ships dropping out of vault, forming up to box the planet. When enough had appeared, he scrutinized his bridge crew.

He noticed the frantic movements of Shira Gaza’s fingers over her nav controls. She’d taken over Carey’s duties—and had gone very pale in the past few minutes. Unaccustomed to the responsibilities of being second in command, her brown eyes had tensed as though she expected some monster to rise up and swallow her whole. Her nervousness put the entire bridge crew on edge. An engineering navigator by training, Gaza had never before seen battle from the stunning vantage of the bridge—but she was the best he had. She’d started to sweat profusely. Her short ebony locks fell around her triangular face like charred weeds. In the back of Jeremiel’s mind, he wished Carey were here.

“Gaza, target that closest cruiser. Fire.”

Her fingers danced over her console and a beam of violet shot out from his ship. She missed. The shot glanced off the shields of the cruiser on the right and slammed the planet. A burst of dust and debris plumed on the planet’s surface. Jeremiel’s heart lurched.
Had she hit any population centers?

“Retarget, Gaza,” he ordered tautly.

“I’m sorry, sir. I must have—”

“Fire!”

Sweat beaded on her face as she struggled to comply. She made small anguished sounds under her breath. Jeremiel caught the horrified look Eli Gustav shot him. She’d been his communications officer for fifteen years. Tall and whip thin, she had a birdlike face with a beak nose and dark eyes. A mass of red curls framed her narrow face. She glanced repeatedly from Jeremiel to Shira Gaza.

Beams lanced out again, this time striking both cruisers dead-on. The starsails ana freignters, all which had now exited vault, added their power. The enemy’s shields wavered in violent swirls of purple.

On the monitor to his left, Jeremiel could see Rudy’s ship and thirty-odd supporting vessels pounding the cruiser that had been circling Sinai. Thank God those cruisers had fallen for their bait and separated. A brilliant wash of white illuminated the asteroid belt. Jeremiel could make out Merle’s cruiser and several freighters streaking the star-strewn background beyond the system, turning to get into the fight again. Her contingent must have come out of vault seconds before they did. And that’s why that Horebian cruiser had responded so rapidly. The enemy captain must have caught the beginning of the asteroid belt fight and immediately gone to battle stations.

“Commander! That cruiser on the left is dispatching fighters,” Shira shouted, voice breaking under the strain.

“Easy, Lieutenant,” Jeremiel said coolly. “Forget the fighters. Concentrate on those cruisers.”

“But our smaller vessels—”

“—Will have to take care of themselves until we’ve neutralized the central threat.”

Two dozen daggers of silver burst from the enemy’s bays, darting and dodging the fire of the oncoming flotilla. The inertia of the Underground fleet kept it on a nearly straight line heading, making it easy for the fighters to outmaneuver them. Two starsails flared and died.

“Look!” Gaza thrust an arm out at the forward screen.

The cruisers around Horeb sailed closer together and combined fire, striking the
Zilpah
with a blast that shivered the ship’s bones. Eli clutched wildly for her console to keep from falling out of her seat. Shields five and six wavered, fluctuating, redistributing energy.

Jeremiel’s throat tightened.
Good move.
Those captains had ordered the fighters to engage the smaller ships, compelling his support forces to fend for themselves. Which left the
Zilpah
on its own, facing the combined firepower of two superior vessels.

Shield three failed. Shira slammed a fist into her com. Her mouth gaped open in horror. “Oh, my God! We’re open!
We’re open!”

Jeremiel manipulated the
Zilpah
so that the aft shields took the brunt or the attack. “Eli? Get on the auxiliary weapons com. Reroute and take over the guns. I want you to finish the attack. Target the cruiser on the left. Gaza, in another twenty seconds we’re going to be at point blank range. Calculate a course so we can match with Merle and be ready to combine fire. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” she responded shakily.

Eli lurched from her seat, fighting the gut-twisting deck shudder to work her way to the com unit three niches over. She fell into the seat and began working the controls.

One of the Underground freighters miraculously hit an enemy fighter; it exploded. Bits of silver tumbled like ice crystals through the silent blackness of space.

Jeremiel glanced down, anxiously studying his chair control console. The temperatures of every shield had soared into the critical zone. If one of those cruisers didn’t give soon. … He cut the power to shields one, two, and four, leaving the
Zilpah
open to any attack from behind.

“What are you doing?” Shira shrieked. “Those fighters—”

“Shut up!” Eli growled. “He’s giving us more power for the weapons.”

The planet loomed up at them like a huge ruby red ball shot from a cannon.

“Now, Eli. Fire!”

She poured every available erg into the cruiser on the left. The ship frantically tried to move, lunging sideways, trying to put a starsail between the
Zilpah
and herself, while still combining her fire with the other vessel’s. The starsail, as though on cue, dove out of the way.

Merle swooped down from above, her guns flaring. She angled to meet Jeremiel’s vector and they combined firepower. A brilliant splash of light flared just as they soared over Horeb. Jeremiel swiveled to gaze at the opposite screen. They’d holed the cruiser’s hull. Atmosphere, debris, and bodies boiled into space in a sparkling torrent.

“Shift your fire to that other cruiser, Eli,” he ordered. “Shira? Initiate course correction. Bring us back around.”

“Yes, sir.” Her hands fumbled over the controls.

On the surrounding monitors, Jeremiel saw his surviving starsails and freighters following behind in a flood. Around Sinai, a Magisterial cruiser sat dead in space, listing sideways. Rudy’s contingent streaked the dark starry heavens in the distance, hurtling to match with him and Merle.

Jeremiel watched tautly as the remaining Magisterial cruiser sped out of Horeb’s orbit and accelerated for vault.

He pounded the air with a hard fist. “Get back on com, Eli. Contact Kopal and Wells. We’ll never get regrouped fast enough to catch that vessel before they make vault. We’re going to have to get Horebians loaded and out of here as soon as we can before reinforcements arrive.”

“Aye, sir.”

A few seconds later, Rudy’s drenched face appeared on the forward screen. His brown hair hung in limp wet strands over his forehead. Smoke filled the bridge of the
Hashomer.
In the background damage teams raced to contain the fires.

Jeremiel’s eyes narrowed, gut tightening. “You all right, Rudy?”

“Nothing we can’t handle.” He put a fist over his mouth and coughed. “I talked to Merle. She’s fine. She lost seven freighters. I lost a dozen starsails and four freighters.” He coughed again. “What are we going to do about that cruiser that’s boosting for vault?”

Jeremiel ground his teeth. “Let her go. We’ve got more important things to think about. Once you get your damage under control on the
Hashomer,
grab a shuttle and rendezvous with me here. You and Merle and I need to have a strategy session.”

“Affirmative. Give me two hours. Kopal out.”

The screen faded back to the star-streaked ebony sky. Jeremiel studied the lacy patterns of the galaxies, seemingly crocheted into lumpy bluish chains at their speed. He sank back in his chair. A hollow sensation of premonition crawled up his spine.

Too easy.

Those cruisers had fallen for the Wocet trap as though they’d had no information about the Underground’s impending attack on Horeb at all.

Maybe he’d been wrong about the officer breaking.’

Maybe the appearance of the Magisterial flotillas in the Moran and Tonopah systems had been pure coincidence?

Ludicrous.

Slothen was up to something. The government had just
let
the Underground destroy four of their cruisers.

A diversion? A soak-off maneuver? What?

He pulled in a deep breath. “Get me Captain Wells, Eli.”

Ornias lay on his back in his hospital room, drugged and drifting in and out of consciousness. Memories of the terrors on Horeb charged his dreams. He saw again the deadly look on Rachel’s face and heard the whine of the pistol when she’d cut off his hand. Then he found himself hurtling endlessly through a vast black sea which washed over him in glacial waves.

Cold, so cold.
He shuddered and unconsciously tugged at his blue blanket, pulling it up over his chest. His maimed hand, being held tightly in the stim unit beside his bed, ached suddenly and violently. It burned as though set aflame.