Treasure of Light (The Light Trilogy) (20 page)

Baruch loomed tall and hard-eyed in the entryway. A shorter man stood behind him, a bag beneath his arm. “Lieutenant,” Baruch greeted. “How’s the captain?”

“Pretty damned bad, Commander.”

“Severns,” he ordered, “see what you can do.”

The Underground leader walked inside and stood out of the way as the doctor went to Tahn’s beside. Carey met and held Baruch’s stern gaze. He looked rested, as though he’d had at least a few hours of sleep. Behind her, she heard Tahn whimper and her heart ached.

“Maggie?” Cole lifted a hand feebly. “No … no, reach … farther. I can almost touch…. Don’t! I—I need you. I—”

“It’s all right,” the doctor soothed. “Calm down. You’re going to be all right.”

“No!
Let me go!
Don’t… not the probes. Dear God,
please.
No more! I can’t…
Maggie.!”

Carey shifted uncomfortably. Baruch had no right,
no right,
to see Tahn like this. She gazed up at him through fiery eyes, but he looked over her shoulder to Tahn’s bed. The hard set of his jaw slackened and she saw a swallow bob in his throat. He lowered his gaze suddenly, glaring uneasily at the floor. Softly, he said, “I’ll come back later.”

He turned and left in a dark smear of black battlesuit.

She lifted her chin, blindly contemplating the closed door. What had he felt? she wondered. His expression had betrayed deep grudging emotion.

“Lieutenant?” the doctor called.

“Yes?”

“Could you stay with the captain for a half hour or so? I’ve given him a rather large dose of uro-steroids. I’d like someone to monitor him to assure he doesn’t have an adverse reaction.”

“I’ll stay.”

“Good. I’ll be on level three with your other injured soldiers if you need me.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

Severns nodded and packed up his bag. He strode past her, disappearing into the hallway.

Carey studied Cole. He’d quieted down, though his breathing still came erratically. “You all right, Cole?” she whispered.

No answer. Idly, she wandered around his cabin, picking up one object, then another. Tahn’s cabin brimmed with unique items from a variety of worlds, many Gamant in origin. She retrieved a small tapestry, beautifully woven in shades of blue and white and held it up to the light.

“From Jumes. When did you get this, Cole?” she asked almost inaudibly. “Before or after we destroyed the planet?”

The face of the little girl in the hallway rose in Carey’s mind. She heard again those pathetic suffocating cries and her stomach knotted. Hastily, she put the tapestry down.

CHAPTER 14

Ari leaned over the table, grimacing down at the plate of food the stewards had just delivered. Their cabin glowed warmly with candles they’d found in the supplies index. He glanced up hopefully at Yosef. “Do you know what it is?”

“Taste it. You’re brave.”

“Not me. I don’t eat anything gray.”

Yosef lifted a utensil and cautiously poked at the “meat.” Slicing off a miniscule piece, he put it in his mouth and forced it down his throat, unchewed. “It tastes like … no, never mind. That wouldn’t help matters.” A trickle of red seeped out from the wounded steak, draining with unnatural viscosity across his plate.

Ari watched the trickle critically. “Well,” he huffed. “At least it looks like it was alive once.”

“A philosophical conclusion, I’m sure.”

Yosef sighed and got to his feet. Grabbing Ari’s plate and his own, he carried them across the bright cabin and unceremoniously dumped the contents into the wall compactor.

Ari lifted his knife and gestured rudely with it. “You should have saved a specimen. That way we could have gone and demanded what it was and who was responsible for it.”

“Don’t be stupid. Somebody might answer.”

Dejectedly, Yosef waddled back to the table and flopped into his chair again. His gaze darted around their cabin, landing on the pile of empty beer bottles collecting beneath Ari’s bed. “Well, you know what it means, don’t you?”

“The kitchen crews have been pared down to nothing. Jeremiel can’t help it. A place like the kitchen has to be staffed by trustworthy people.”

“Arsenic-laced food might taste better than tonight’s dinner.”

“Not for long enough to make it count.”

Yosef looked at him over the rim of his spectacles, then frowned disconsolately. “How much longer do you think we’ll be here? I hate ships. They’re all white and smell antiseptic.” He longed for the familiar fragrances of ripe barley and wet leaves.

“Jeremiel said we should be finished rescuing refugees in a couple of days.” He reached across the table to pat Yosef’s forearm comfortingly. “We’ll be home soon.”

“Home?” He winced at the sound of his own voice: like a five-year-old who rips open a beautiful gift at Chunuk and finds the box empty. “I’m not sure where that is anymore, Ari.”

“You don’t want to go back to Tikkun?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head forlornly. Images of his little house on Mandean Street flickered through his mind, the trees shading crimson and gold with autumn’s strength. Homesickness overcame him. He threw up his hands miserably. “I have to find some place safe to take Mikael.”

“Is he still out from that drug they gave him?”

“Yes, I checked in on him just before dinner. He was having another nightmare. Jeremiel was there. We talked for a few minutes. He said it was the second time he’d tried—you know, as a formality, Baruch feels he should be one of the first people to greet the new leader of Gamant civilization. Jeremiel said he couldn’t understand why Mikael hadn’t awakened yet. It worried him—and me.”

Ari waved a hand. “Don’t let it. After what that boy went through on Kayan, he probably needs a week of sleep.”

“What planet can I take him to, Ari? Where can we live without worrying the Magistrates will fly over the horizon and kill us all?”

Ari sighed expressively and stretched his long legs across the carpet. “Tikkun may be all right. We don’t know—”

“Then why haven’t Jeremiel’s bases there contacted him yet?”

“Who knows. It could be anything.”

“It could be that they’re all dead.”

Ari gazed at him levelly and into those faded gray eyes rose a flame of battle. In the flutters of candlelight he looked like a fierce gray mop. His withered face underwent a slow metamorphosis, as though Yosef had lifted a fist and shouted, “Thou shalt see me at Phillipi!”

“Well, if that’s so, then you won’t have to worry about a safe planet for Mikael—because the only safe place will be in a cruiser surrounded by a dozen others. There’ll be a full-scale Revolt, Yosef. It might take the people of Tikkun months to get the courage, but they’ll kill every Magisterial soldier alive—or die trying.”

A sharp ache invaded Yosef’s heart. He looked around the white cabin, going over the gray carpet and gray blankets, the white and black furniture. He felt he’d suffocate. “Pray God spares us that.”

The 6th of Tishri, 5414

Jasper opened the gate and plodded up the narrow dirt walkway toward his grandson’s home. Noon sunlight streamed down through the latticework of the wrought iron canopy over the porch, landing in searing patches of molten gold on the brown tiles beneath.

Jasper wiped his tennis shoes and rang the bell, inhaling the dry sweet smells of autumn. Salome trees in full color lined the winding street like a twisting amber and ruby necklace. Leaves showered the ground with every strong gust of wind, cartwheeling over dying lawns and into the streets.

“Coming!” he heard Pavel yell and in a few short moments his grandson appeared at the door, bearded face flushed, black hair awry. Dressed in blue pants and a black shirt, he looked hot. “Grandpa! Come in. Why didn’t you call to tell me you’d be early? I’d have gotten some beer or—”

“You haven’t got any beer? I’m going home.”

He started to turn and walk away, but Pavel gripped his white sleeve and dragged him back, smiling reproachfully.

“I have two cans. After that, you’re on your own.”

Jasper shrugged. “Okay.”

He stepped through the front door into the parlor. It was a broad sunny room spreading twenty by twenty-five feet. A tan leather couch and two matching chairs squatted against the wall to his left. On his right, a long table with eight chairs sat. An oval rug sporting geometric designs in blue and gold covered the center of the wood floor.

Jasper strolled to the couch and dropped down in a brilliant patch of sunlight; it set the silver threads in his white shirt glimmering. “Where’s Yael?”

“She’s in the backyard. She brought young Jonas Wallace home to play this afternoon, to help her celebrate her great report card.”

Jasper nodded. Yael, twelve, was retarded, but the Magisterial doctors on Tikkun made no attempt to correct the problem—though every non-Gamant child suffering the same problem had long ago been fixed. The government took Gamant children like Yael and put them in classes learning useless things like coloring and ceramics. Jasper roughly brushed off his pant leg. “Where’s your father? I thought he was coming early to get that fancy dessert of his started?”

Pavel spread his arms a little forlornly. A veil of sunlit dust swam with his movements. “You know how he is when he gets caught up with weddings or funerals. Everything else fades from his mind.”

Jasper pursed his lips, drumming his bony fingers on the warm back of the couch. Blast Toca! In his entire life, he’d never known his son to be on time for any family gathering. Outsiders, his “flock,” always came first. He glanced at Pavel and saw the small lines of hurt etching a web around his dark eyes.

“Was it a joining or a burying.”

“Burying. And, too,” Pavel hurriedly explained, “he had some business to take care of in the city. Major Lichtner called him in to talk.”

“Lichtner? That military pimple brain? About what?”

“I don’t know. We’ll have to ask …”

Pavel stopped. From outside came the sound of the gate slamming. “I didn’t forget!” Toca’s voice penetrated the room. “I’m coming.” He burst through the front door, breast heaving. Tall, his hair had grown sparse and gray, but the fire in his black eyes still blazed. Herringbone wrinkles deeply lined his face. Dressed all in black, the silver triangle around his neck shone brightly. “You’ve been bad-mouthing me anyway, I suppose.”

“You deserved it!” Jasper tormented. “You think a corpse is more important than a breathing granddaughter?”

Toca’s mouth tightened in guilt—a practiced look Jasper had seen a thousand times, designed to make his accusers recant and plead for mercy.

“Well,” Toca said apologetically. “I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t bore us. Pavel and I have heard this same story too many times to buy it. Who died?”

A twinge of real shame reddened Toca’s cheeks which made Jasper feel better. Pavel gave him a look of suppressed amusement.

“Old Benjamin Powe. And he couldn’t have had a better send-off. Lots of tears and wailing. The line of autos following the hearse to the graveyard stretched for miles.”

“Of course it did. He owed everybody money,” Jasper noted irreverently, contemplatively studying the dirt under his fingernails. “His debtors were probably hoping to corner the family before they could get away with dignity.”

Toca gave him a disgruntled look, then walked to the couch and dropped down on the other side. From the backyard, sweet high giggles rose.

Pavel smiled. “Jonas came to play with Yael.”

“Ah …” Toca nodded in understanding. “Well, let me see this spectacular report card? Where is it?”

“In my room. I framed it and hung it on the wall. I’ll get it.” Pavel ran out of the room and down the long hall, steps echoing.

Jasper eyed his son seriously and Toca frowned. “So you went to talk to Lichtner? What did that idiot want?”

“Oh, nothing very important, Papa. The Magistrates are initiating a registration program. Starting tomorrow, they’re setting up temporary offices all over the city. We each have to report.”

“Report what?”

Pavel trotted back in the room and handed Toca the framed card. Standing with his hands on his hips, he waited for his father’s response. Toca glanced admiringly down, then gave Pavel a broad smile. “She’s the smartest girl in school. I’ve always known it. What did her teacher—”

“Report what?”
Jasper pressed. Fear had risen to thump a little out of time with his heart.

“What’s going on?” Pavel inquired, taking the frame back and setting it on the table.

“Oh.” Toca waved a hand in irritation. “Papa’s upset because the Magistrates are starting a registration program. We each have to go in and report our names and addresses. We also have to provide a list of our whereabouts, twenty-four hours a day, for the next two weeks straight.”

Pavel shook his head. “That’s crazy. What if we don’t know? I haven’t the vaguest idea what I’ll be doing tomorrow night.”

“You’d better. Any errors or omissions will be punishable by imprisonment. They’re serious.”