Read Redemption of Light (The Light Trilogy) Online
Authors: Kathleen M. O'Neal
“I’ll find you, Rachel,” he promised. “I’ll find you and kill you for doing this to me.”
Anger filled him, but fear came, too. How had she walked out of the air onto that windy balcony? And whose voice had come from the clouds? Did he really remember that, or had he just been dreaming?
His body felt light, rising unwittingly off the bed, and he found himself floating in a glimmering golden haze. Flickers of light played across his closed eyelids, moving, forming half-coalesced images of amber eyes and glowing faces before melting away.
“It never happened,”
a soft, kind voice assured.
“You never saw Rachel. There was no voice from the clouds.”
Ornias peered through the golden mist, looking for the man who spoke. “But it seemed so real,” he challenged.
“You were delirious. That little beast, Horner, betrayed you. He drugged your wine just before you stepped out onto that balcony.”
“Why?”
“Mikael Calas’ rebel forces paid him two million notes.”
Ornias grumbled to himself. Horner had no loyalty beyond what he got paid for. Still, he didn’t recall drinking wine. Nor did he recall Horner being anywhere in sight.
“You’re a liar! Why are you—”
“Because the patterns of time have been altered by Rachel’s rashness. I have to put them back
—
if I can. You’d have been coming to Palaia anyway
—
but you’d have come through conventional means.”
Stinging tendrils crept through Ornias’ brain, as though someone tampered with his neural pathways. He fought back, struggling in the belly of the haze. “Who are you!” he demanded. “What do you want?”
Fiery golden arms swept him up and rocked him violently as though in the grasp of a storm. He felt himself being flung from one area of the glittering sea to another, and all the while his mind seemed to be playing tricks on him. As if molded from clay, the memories of Horner came back to him. And he saw himself climbing into a shuttle and fleeing Horeb and the terrible battles that raged in the skies overhead. Who had piloted the ship? Oh, yes, yes, Jiva Haro. He could see her smooth young face smiling at him. Yes, of course. That’s how it had happened….
A tiny sliver of light penetrated through the crate lid, landing across Yosef’s face like a burning slash of moonglow. He glanced sideways at Ari. His oldest friend slumped in the corner. He had his long legs crammed against the wall. In the diffused light, his straggly gray hair shimmered like icy twigs.
Another bang sounded, followed by a shrill scraping. Someone laughed.
Yosef pressed his ear to the crate wall, listening for any sound which might tell him where they were. After they’d left Horeb the first time, they’d landed once for a brief interval. “Puddle jumping,” Ari had called it. Their shuttle had settled again about a half hour ago and now soldiers swarmed all over, shouting orders, unloading crates.
“Hey!” someone shouted loudly.
Yosef jumped.
“Private Row? Jerry? Come here. I need help with this last crate.”
“On my way, Sergeant Nelson.”
The sharp clip-clopping of boots against the petrolon deck sounded. The hold bounced slightly as two men stepped inside. Yosef could hear their heavy breathing.
“Let’s clear some of this junk out of the way so we can slide the crate to the edge of the hold, then the lifter can grab it,” Nelson said.
Something squealed as it was pulled across the floor. A dull thud reverberated. Then Yosef saw Ari’s eyes go wide as their crate began moving in a zigzagging pattern. Grunts and gasps pierced the air.
“Goddamn,” Nelson cursed. “When the hell did they start making this stuff so heavy? It used to be feather-light.”
“I don’t know,” Row said through a strained groan. The crate edged forward another foot. “Maybe they’re using a new chemical compound. Or maybe the slime bags on Horeb put something into it they shouldn’t have. I don’t care how many armed guards you put around them, you can’t trust Gamant laborers. They’ll do anything they can to kill the lot of us.”
“Well, at least we finally caught that boy that’s been causing all the problems. Maybe now things will—”
“What was his name?”
“Calas. Mikael Calas.”
Yosef and An exchanged a dread-filled look. They’d captured Mikael? Oh, dear God. And what of Sybil and Nathan? Yosef forced a swallow down his dry throat.
“He’s Zadok Calas’ grandson. You must remember the stories about that old warhorse? Quite a soldier, he was. Beat the Magistrates lots of times when the odds were a million to one against him.”
Row snorted derisively. “You sound like you admire the old murderer, Nelson. That’s all he was. A clever old murderer with delusions of godhood.”
Yosef leaned heavily against the crate wall. Ari’s withered face took on an aura of pure hatred. Yosef tried to smile reassuringly, as though it didn’t really bother him that these strangers talked so about his brother, but Ari knew differently. Yosef fiddled aimlessly with his collar, trying not to succumb to the welling pain this unknown man had wrung from his heart.
Nelson paused. “Well, everybody’s got a right to their opinion, but I sure as hell respected the old codger. My granddad fought against Zadok in the last Gamant Revolt. He had a lot of respect for Calas. Called him a ‘goddamned miracle worker.’ And meant it half-affectionately. But I’m glad we caught his grandson, too. Maybe things in the galaxy will calm down now.”
“I doubt it,” Row guipped. “Gamants are too stupid to know what’s good for them. I think we’re going to have to grind them out of existence before they’ll swallow their pride and give up all their antiquated separatist beliefs to live like civilized people with the rest of us.”
One final long groan of exertion came and the crate stopped moving. Yosef looked up. Through the tiny crack in the lid, he could see the brilliant glare of a hundred lustreglobes. Dozens of boots cracked against the floor outside. The voices he heard carried to him with a slight echo, as though the room gaped as broadly as a cavern. His mind searched out every time in his life he’d ever been in such a room and he—
He nearly fainted. He gripped the fabric over his heart and breathed hard.
The landing bay of a battle cruiser?
No, it couldn’t be. Ari must have realized where they were, too, for his eyes widened.
“There,” Nelson groaned. “The lifter can get it from here. How about some lunch? We’re fifteen minutes late for mess right now. I don’t know about you, but I’m half-starved after all the work this morning.”
“Lunch sounds great.”
“Yo! Savon!” Nelson called. “Let’s give these people a lunch break!”
A soft din of approving voices responded. The sound of boots retreated. The noise in the bay died away to nothing. Yosef sank back against the wall, wiping the beads of perspiration from his forehead.
Ari watched him through slitted eyes. “I think we ought to go find that little ass first thing. I’d like to toss him one of these canisters as a gift.”
Yosef shrugged. Only Ari would understand how the conversation about Zadok had hurt him. “Forget about him. Start thinking about Mikael. I wonder where they’ll be keeping him? In the brig?”
“Probably.” Ari smoothed a hand over his pointed chin. When he spoke again, a tightness had constricted his throat. “Or he could be in the probe room next to the hospital. You should be prepared for that, Yosef, in case we find him … not—not well.”
Yosef squeezed his eyes closed momentarily. “Hurry. Let’s get out of here so we can go look. Maybe we can stop any medical procedures before they get underway.”
Ari nodded and adjusted the pack of books on his back before crawling forward. He gently shoved up on the lid, then slid it sideways and peeked out owlishly. Finally, he threw his long spidery legs over the lip of the crate and tumbled over the edge. A sharp crack sounded when he landed. “Name of God!”
“What’s the matter?” Yosef asked, scrambling up to peer out into the white, starkly lit landing bay. He had to stand on his tiptoes to glimpse Ari because Ari was lying prostrate on his stomach on the white tiles of the bay floor. He’d obviously missed stepping on the nearer floorboard of the shuttle.
“Did you hurt yourself?” Yosef hissed accusingly.
Ari groaned and pushed up with his arms. “I broke my skull!”
“Good. Then you won’t mind this.” Yosef carefully lifted two of the finger-length canisters and held them upright in his left hand while he climbed out of the crate and eased down to the bay floor. Even the cans bore the ominous red triangles.
“Here,” Yosef said, thrusting one of the canisters at his friend. “Take this. Put it in your pocket.”
“My pocket? What for?” Ari took one between two fingers, glaring at it in case it did something sinister. He got to his feet. “Are you crazy? One wrong move, one trip in the hallway, and we could blow out this side of the cruiser.”
“That’s the point,” Yosef answered as he slipped his into the breast pocket of his robe. “Who’d dare threaten a man with one of these in his hand? Now, come on, we’ve got to get out of here before they come back.”
Yosef waddled forward, heading for the exit. The landing bay stretched in a two-hundred-foot square. Two fighters sat anchored against the far wall. Cartons, crates, and boxes filled every niche, stacked three and four high.
Ari speeded up when they neared the exit. He pushed Yosef back against the wall while he gazed out the tiny window to scrutinize the hallway beyond.
Yosef stood quietly for several minutes, then began to get suspicious. Ari had started to sweat. Tiny rivulets traced down his cheeks to soak his collar.
Worried, Yosef asked, “What’s wrong? Is there somebody out there?”
“Yeah,” replied Ari. “A gorgeous redhead. I love these formfitting purple uniforms.”
“Get away from that door!” Yosef twined his fingers in Ari’s sleeve and gruffly jerked him backward. “What’s the matter with you? We’re supposed to be finding Mikael and you’re ogling women?”
“You know nothing about espionage. I wasn’t ogling. I was spying. There’s a big difference. You have to be extremely careful and extremely subtle or they catch you and crush your gonads with pliers.”
Imperiously, Ari headed for the door on the other side of the bay. Yosef threw up his hands and waddled after Ari’s stalking figure. When they reached the door, Ari quickly jumped out into the hallway. “Come on, Yosef. Hurry it up.”
Yosef peered up and down the empty white corridor and sighed in relief. “Why did you jump out like that? What if somebody had been in this hall?”
“I would have startled them, that’s what, and then I’d have to disarmed them. And once we get our hands on a gun we can do anything. We can put these canisters in strategic locations, take over this ship, and free the galaxy, and then when we’re finished saving the universe we can go home and drink beer.”
Yosef glanced up sullenly. Ari’s gray mop of hair made him look like a deranged palm tree in winter. “I swear to God, sometimes I think your brain is possessed by a dead politician.”
He halfheartedly shoved Ari’s shoulder as he strode down the hall, his thoughts focused mainly on Mikael. Nothing made any sense. Why would they capture Mikael and put him aboard a battle cruiser? Why not just kill him if they wanted him out of the way?
Ari stepped out ahead of Yosef, sliding cleverly along the wall until he could see around the corner. “Okay, it’s clear. Come on.”
He stepped into the next corridor. Yosef followed and ran smack into two Magisterial corporals who had just entered from another connecting passageway. The corporals stopped, staring curiously at them.
From the corner of his mouth, Yosef accused, “Clear, eh?”
Ari lifted his long arms over his head. He walked forward like an ancient mechanical robot, a step at a time.
“Klaatu barada nikto!”
he said.
The blond with the flat nose whispered, “What language is that, Chuck?”
The brown haired one shook his head, “Got me. Look, old man, what are you doing here? This is a secured level of the ship. No visitors are allowed in the weapons division.”
Ari continued his stiff-legged walk and Yosef helplessly followed. What did Ari hope to do? Get close enough strutting like a demented mongoose to disarm them? Oh, Lord, what a thought. Already Yosef’s gonads ached.
When Ari was no more than five feet from the confused soldiers, he repeated,
“Klaatu barada nikto.
That’s girl talk. It means Take me to your leader.’“
Chuck propped his hand on the butt of his holstered pistol.
“Who are you?”
Ari puffed out his chest proudly. “I’m Ari Funk and this is Yosef Calas. We’re from Tikkun originally.”
“Calas?” Chuck’s dark eyes fastened on Yosef. He smoothly pulled his pistol and gestured with it. “Down the hall, both of you. I’ll
take you to my leader,
all right. Move!”
Yosef put up his hands and trudged forward. Ari joined him, a wide grin on his face. Leaning sideways, Funk whispered, “Now we’ve got them. Just wait until we get to the bridge.”
“You idiot! When we get to the bridge, they’re going to kill us!”
Ari pursed his lips disdainfully and patted his front pocket where the hypinitronium rested. “Not with these, they won’t.”
Chuck called from behind, “Turn right and go through those big double doors.”
Yosef rounded the corner and gasped when the doors to Engineering loomed up like square white barricades. “Oh, my.”
“Wait a minute!” Ari protested. He swung around and glowered at the two soldiers. “I thought we were going to talk to somebody important. We want to see the acting captain!”
Chuck’s right eye twitched in irritation. “Move, old man. I’m taking you to my
leader,
the ship’s chief engineer.”
“Bah!” Ari sliced the air with a fist. “He’s not good enough. Do you know who we are?”
Chuck gripped his pistol tighter and pointed it at Ari’s head. “No, but I guarantee we’re going to find out. Now,
move!”
Yosef grabbed Ari’s sleeve and flung him forward. Ari grumbled as he walked through the doors into a round tri-level chamber. Duty stations perched like wire birds’ nests on each level. Yosef’s gaze was drawn upward. He counted the men and women, tallying nineteen.
An ugly man with short stubby black hair and flat features straightened up from where he’d been bent over a console. His purple uniform stretched tightly over bulging muscles. He clasped his hands behind his back and stepped forward, examining Ari and Yosef the way he might check out bad computer programs.
“Who are these men, Corporal Gregor?”
Chuck jammed his pistol into Ari’s back and said, “They claim their names are Funk and Calas. But we don’t really know, Lieutenant Rad. We found them wandering around the weapons division alone.”
Rad circled Ari like a cat playing with a mouse and Yosef cringed at the gleeful look on his oldest friend’s face. Whenever Ari got that look, it usually portended some dim-witted action. Rad’s eyes narrowed. “You’re obviously civilians. What were you doing in the weapons division?”
Ari lifted his gray brows and grinned. In a casual move, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the deadly canister, holding it up so everybody in the room could see the red triangle. Soldiers gasped and stumbled over each other retreating to the far reaches of Engineering.