Treasure of Light (The Light Trilogy) (16 page)

“Something saner. You rushed a heavily armed prison planet with six cruisers to rescue
two … two
people?”

“I liked them.”

“You must have. Your maneuver around Antares Minor, however, was brilliant.” She gave him a small smile, watching him closely.

He smiled back—hard and calculating—as though he saw right through her congenial act. “I didn’t know you were a fan of mine, Lieutenant.”

She lifted a shoulder and studied the way the light refracted through her glass to cast coppery designs across the black surface of the table.

In Antares Minor, they’d had his fleet boxed tight in an asteroid belt, outnumbered five to one. Rather than surrendering like any sane commander who knows he’s lost, Baruch stationed four of his ships in strategic locations, secretly evacuated his crews, set his matter/antimatter engines on time-delay for merge and ran the rest of his fleet like bats out of hell for the light vault. They’d shot three of the bats out of the sky before they realized the stationary ships were decoys. The entire asteroid belt, including fifteen Magisterial vessels, vanished in the explosions. He’d wasted six quality ships and two crews to get the remaining six out. The Underground fleet barely had fifteen vessels left.

“You killed fifty thousand government soldiers in that maneuver,” Carey informed.

“Really? I’m disappointed. I thought it was more.”

“Hopefully Epagael will cast you into Aktariel’s pit of darkness for such feelings.”

“I doubt it. I deserve at least a week in the seventh heaven as a reward.”

“You think the archangel Michael will let you in? His reputation for justice must be greatly exaggerated.”

He massaged his forehead. “Your file didn’t say you were an expert on our religion. Perhaps we should discuss the pros and cons of Sinlayzan’s rationalistic philosophy?”

She ground her teeth. She’d always had what Cole called “an unhealthy interest” in Gamant theology. Maybe some of those long hours of studying ancient texts would finally come in handy. “If you like. Don’t you think his views on teleological ethics are myopic?”

Baruch laughed softly. “You’re a surprise, Lieutenant.”

“Answer my question.”

“Myopic? A little, yes.”

“More than a little. Implementation of his philosophy on Secus IX in 5102 resulted in nearly total genocide for the native life-form. The end, Commander, doesn’t always justify the means.”

“Basically, I agree, but I’m surprised to hear a Magisterial officer express such a sane opinion. I can’t see any of you caring about methods given your—”

“Your vision’s pretty limited, isn’t it?
You and Sinlayzan. Is that a Gamant trait?”

He set his glass down and looked her over in detail, as though distastefully examining a slab of maggot-ridden meat in an open bazaar. She took another long drink, letting the amber saint warm her stomach and bolster her courage.

He cocked his head. “Let me clarify my former statement. Under certain conditions, Lieutenant, I think the end
can
justify the means. For example, I’d lie, cheat, steal—do anything, say anything—to overthrow the Galactic Magistrates and their brutal alien government.”

“And I suppose you think that’s ethical? A lot of innocent—”

“I’ve watched millions of my people die under your cannons, Lieutenant. Do you know what it’s like to witness old men, women, and helpless children running in terror before they’re slaughtered by anonymous villains from the skies? Do you have any idea—”

Desperate rage smothered her. Unthinkingly, she slammed a first against the table, coming halfway out of her chair.
“You just murdered twenty-seven hundred of my crewmates, Baruch! Don’t be so damned righteous!”

He leaned forward tiredly, blue jumpsuit rustling loudly in the sudden quiet. “And you’ve killed four of my planets in the past year. Half a million people, Lieutenant. My Underground kills
soldiers,
not babies. Didn’t you ever feel a twinge of conscience murdering innocent people?”

Unsteadily, she lowered herself back into her chair. “No soldier likes to kill civilians, Commander.”

He tipped his chair back on two legs, resting his head against the white wall as he scrutinized her. “Well, maybe the Magistrates have human beings in their service after all.”

She gripped her glass hard, taking another long drink. “Baruch, what are you going to do with all the refugees aboard?”

“Put ‘em groundside somewhere.”

“And then?”

“Explain.”

“I’m no fool. I suspect your fleet is on their way here right now.”
Are they?
“When they arrive, are you going to use me and my crew as sacrificial offerings in the stead of the Magistrates?”

“Gamants aren’t fiends, Lieutenant, no matter what you’ve heard. Our hoofs and horns vanished centuries ago. Evolution, you know.”

“Does that mean your men won’t rape me and pillage my ship?”

“First, it’s not your ship. Second, they’d certainly want to, but I assure you I’ll forbid it.”

“Gallant of you.” She shook her head. Her stomach had started to ache again.

“Let’s get down to business, Halloway. You called this meeting. What do you want?”

“I …” She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. “I need your help.”

His face was bland, but his blue eyes glittered questioningly as though wondering how she had the guts to ask. “Indeed? What for?”

Carey reached out and retrieved the whiskey bottle, refilling her glass again. “I want you to open the locks on level two.” When she looked up, she found him watching her like a cat at a mousehole.

He thumped his thumb against his glass. “And what will I get in return?”

Carey swallowed hard. “I … I’ll order my crew to lay down their arms. And I’ll cooperate as best I can with your orders. That’s what Cole intended when he talked to you last.”

“And will your crew obey you?” A suave brutality tinged his voice.

Carey lifted her head and glared.
“Yes.”

He smiled as though intrigued by the entire conversation. “Let me get this straight. I’ll kill your enemies for you and you’ll willingly become my prisoner. Is that it?”

“Yes, Commander, that’s it. I’m trying to save as much of my crew as I can. You said you’d put us down on the nearest Gamant planet alive and well. I assume you intend to keep that promise.”

“I do.”

“Do we have a bargain?” Carey held her breath.

“You’ll also order your scientific staff to train my people, correct?”

“Correct—just as Tahn agreed.”

He eyed her closely, then finished his drink and set the glass on the table. “I’ll open the locks.”

She exhaled in relief and slumped back in her chair. “One other thing, Commander. I have several wounded people stashed in a wardroom on level three. And Captain Tahn is very ill. He might be dying for all I know. I need medical personnel. When you decompressed the ship, you killed all—”

“We have two physicians in our group. I’ll send you one for exactly one hour.”

“I won’t have to worry about him murdering Tahn in his sleep, will I?”

“I’ll leave orders that that task is my
sole
prerogative. What else do you need?”

“Permission for my bridge crew to go back to their own cabins. They—”

“Negative. Once they’ve officially surrended, however, we will prepare cabins for them on level seven and have their nonmilitary possessions brought up. You and Tahn will continue to stay on level four.”

“You want to keep us separated from our crew?” She laughed shortly. “Your people outnumber ours four to one and you’re still bringing up more refugees. What do you think—”

“Even if the odds were a million to one, Lieutenant, I’d take the same precautions.” He braced a hand on the table and pushed up, reeling slightly before he caught himself. Even in exhaustion, his physical presence was daunting. He moved with a leashed power that struck her unsettlingly. “Please keep me informed about the status of your crew. If I can do anything else to ease—”

“I’ll let you know, Commander. Thank you for talking with me.”

She hurried by him, hitting the exit patch and striding out into the rifle barrels of a half-dozen guards.

Gen Abruzzi rubbed his square jaw as he studied the now blank forward screen. A middle-aged man, he had a long narrow face the color of varnished walnut. Deep black eyes sat in darkened hollows beneath his drooping lids. Gray hair formed a woolly, close-cropped mat around his head. He shifted uncomfortably in his command chair, contemplating the things Bogomil had said. Oh, Brent had tried to sound nonchalant, merely asking the
Scipio
to keep an eye on the
Hoyer’s
location, to report if the vessel undertook any unusual maneuvers. But there was more to it. Cole would have never allowed a routine malfunction to go on for so long. A few hours, yes, but ten hours, no. And who knew how long the link had been out before Bogomil tried to tran him?

Something had gone wrong aboard the
Hoyer.

Abruzzi leaned forward slightly, gazing at his second in command. Tenon Lamont, a tiny Oriental woman with short black hair, looked back pensively. They all felt it—that anxious foreboding in their bellies. If somebody had dropped a net around Cole, they’d be on their way. But it had to be done delicately—especially if the “somebody” turned out to be Baruch. The lunatic Underground genius might do something desperate. “Lieutenant,” he said, “what’s the location of the
Klewe?”

She ran a check through her com, then swung back around to face him. “They should be just finishing up a delivery mission in Sector Three. Do you want me to contact Captain Erinyes?”

“What course has he logged for the next week?”

Tenon hit a few more keys on her console. “He’s cutting across Sector Two, heading for Four to provide strategic support for Governor Puyo on Komati. They apparently have a civil war brewing in the Mysore system.”

Abruzzi pursed his lips disdainfully.
Strategic support, my ass.
Erinyes was probably maneuvering for political leverage, trying to make himself look good. Rumor had it he planned on running in the next election for a seat to the Magistrates’ military advisory council. A pompous two-bit politician, Erinyes’ uncle—Nafred—already served on that board. As a result, the
Klewe
hadn’t seen battle in twenty years. Worse, Erinyes was rarely where his flight plan said he would be. The
Klewe
could be sitting in dock at Palaia right now. If anybody else neglected to update their flight plan the central command would kick the hell out of them—but not Erinyes.

He hesitated. “Oh, hell … No, no, let’s wait. With his reported course, he shouldn’t be more than a few hours away at any given point in the next few days if we need his assistance to pull Tahn out of some fire.”

“Aye, sir.

“In the meantime, keep monitoring the
Hoyer.
I want to know the instant they send another long-range dattran. We’re too far away for them to pick us up on their scanners, but as we get closer I want you to keep us hidden behind Horeb’s sun.” He slid back in his chair, rubbing his chin again as he eyed each of his bridge crewpeople in turn. They fastened him with worried gazes. “If there’s an applecart tilted out there, we don’t want to push it over. Not yet.”

CHAPTER 12

Carey sat immobile in the command chair on the bridge. Baruch had taken over the
Hoyer
exactly twenty-four hours ago—but it seemed like centuries. Her purple uniform hung in a mass of blood-spattered wrinkles, accenting her pale complexion and the reddish sheen in her auburn hair. A dull glitter lit her eyes as she watched her crew. Only an hour ago, Baruch had opened the second level lock. After he’d shut it, she’d taken a security team and gone down herself to scout the area. No sign remained of the Clandestine Services officers—but she couldn’t be sure that some hadn’t escaped in the final moments. Baruch had released the shipwide communications link to her so she could comply with her side of the bargain. She hadn’t used it yet.

She didn’t need her bridge officers’ concurrence before ordering the crew to lay down their weapons, but it would help to have their backing. Until Tahn regained consciousness she needed every ounce of support she could get.

Scarlet blazed on Rich Macey’s freckled cheeks as he paced before the blank forward screen. The other seven officers hunched over their consoles, lips pursed, nostrils flaring in fear and indecision. Hera tapped a pen irritatingly.

“h’s our only choice,” Carey pointed out.

“To give up?”
Macey blurted. Skinny and red-haired, his blue eyes had a wild look. He threw up his arms. “What the hell is going on? First Tahn lets us get slaughtered, then you make a deal with Baruch—”

“Tahn did not
let
us get slaughtered. Lieutenant,”
Carey said coldly. “I’ve served with the man twice as long as you have and I can tell you for a fact that he’s risked his life repeatedly to save his crew. Losing the
Hoyer
was nobody’s fault. Baruch just outmaneuvered us, that’s all.”