Treasure of Light (The Light Trilogy) (3 page)

Mikael’s face went livid with terror. He let out a high-pitched shriek and started flailing against Tahn with his fists, striking him in the face and shoulders, struggling to get away.

“Mikael, don’t.” Tahn gathered the boy in his arms and hugged him, feeling the desperate sobs that wracked Mikael’s body. Tears soaked the collar of Tahn’s purple uniform. He held Mikael tighter, stroking his dark curls. Every muscle in the boy’s body had gone rigid. “I’m sorry, Mikael. I just wanted you to know that I’m here to help you. If you—”

“No, you’re not! You’re a liar!”
Mikael screamed and writhed in Tahn’s arms. “You hate me! You hate all Gamants.”

Like a stiletto between Tahn’s ribs … “I don’t hate you, Mikael. It’s just that I have to do things to protect all of galactic civilization and sometimes Gamants make that hard.”

“We don’t!”

Tahn held Mikael at arm’s length and gazed seriously into those dark eyes. “Listen to me. I’m going to tell you the truth. You know how the Underground goes around fighting all the time?”

“Yes,” Mikael sobbed. “Jeremiel Baruch, the leader of the Underground, is a very great hero. When I grow up, I’m going to be just like him.” A shining light gleamed in Mikael’s eyes when he spoke of the most hated criminal in Magisterial space—and Tahn’s most vehement enemy.

“I understand that you feel that way, but sometimes Baruch hurts Magisterial citizens.”

“Like how?” Mikael charged disbelievingly.

“At this very moment the Underground is stirring rebellions on lots of Gamant planets and, as a result, half of quadrant seven—that’s over on the Orion arm of the galaxy—is starving.”

“Why?”

“Because the Magistrates only have a limited number of battle cruisers, so they can only protect so many people at once. When they’re off fighting against the Underground, that leaves other planets open to attack from raiders. They—”

“Are raiders like pirates?”

“Yes, just like that.” He softly patted Mikael’s arm. The boy tilted his head so that the light iced his black hair with a veil of silver. “Raiders come in and cut off supply routes to blackmail planets into giving them their goods and resources for free.”

“You mean raiders steal things?”

“Pretty much. They make demands that no planet can really meet and then …”

When the door com buzzed, Mikael jerked and glowered at Tahn as though he’d been betrayed. From outside, a deep voice called, “Captain Tahn? It’s Doctor Iona.”

“Just a minute,” he called back. All the strangling tensions that enveloped him increased.

Mikael seemed to sense it. He gazed up in utter terror. Tahn hugged him one last time. In Mikael’s ear, he whispered, “Sorry. I was going to tell you before he got here. There’s something we need—”

Mikael wrenched free from his grip and stood panting. “That doctor’s going to hurt me, isn’t he?”

“No, no. I won’t let him hurt you.”

“Then why’s he here?”

“I want you to sleep for a while. You know you haven’t been sleeping very well. You wake up a lot at night, don’t you?” The hospital monitors they’d installed had recorded dozens of wakings during the night, most accompanied by screams and flailing arms. He’d watched the holos with mounting alarm. He’d felt that way himself once upon a time, unable to sleep for even a few minutes for fear some terror would slither out of the darkness to twine around his body and squeeze the life from him. But there were more reasons he wanted the boy to sleep—reasons of his own.

Mikael closed his eyes and tears traced glistening lines down his cheeks. “Sometimes I have nightmares. I can’t help it.”

“I know that. But you—”

“I’ll be good. I’ll go to sleep. Don’t let him hurt me!”

“Mikael, you’re the best boy I know. It’s not your fault you can’t sleep.” He lifted a finger and tapped it against Mikael’s temple. “It’s just that there are some … oh, sad things in your head that keep you awake. But you need to sleep. Doctor Iona is going to give you a shot. It won’t hurt. I promise. You’ll sleep for a few hours and when you wake up you’ll feel better. Here, let me help you lie down.”

Tahn stood and led Mikael to his bed where the boy sat on the edge, refusing to look at him. Cole’s stomach roiled. Mikael took a deep breath and dragged a sleeve over his eyes, trying to be brave. Cole patted Mikael’s hair and went to the door, turning on the light panel over the table before hitting the entry patch. The door slipped open and Iona stood in the hall. He was a medium-sized man with close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair and a bulbous nose; the gold braid on his shoulder epaulets glistened in the dim white light.

“Come in, Doctor. Mikael’s calm and ready for you.”

Iona entered, glancing surreptitiously at Mikael before putting his bag on the table and rifling through it. “I’m glad to hear it, sir, given the insanity running rampant across the rest of the ship.”

Tahn grimaced in understanding. He had a few final arrangements to make with the High Councilman on Horeb who was “selling” Baruch to the Magistrates, but it looked like they’d finally ended the Underground leader’s reign of terror. The crew was going wild with joy. In the off-duty lounges champagne flowed like a river. Only a year ago, Tahn would have been in one of those lounges, celebrating with his crew, exulting in that triumphant flush of victory.

But he no longer knew what he was fighting for. He glanced back at Mikael. The child sat hunched on his bed, his brown eyes as wide and hate-filled as an innocent prisoner facing his executioner.

Once again, all the old doubts consumed Tahn, gnawing at his insides. He started pacing. When he passed the mirror over the table, he caught his reflection and stopped. He looked as frantic as a man caught in a cross fire, not knowing which way to turn. Disturbed, he dropped his gaze to the floor. In the circle of light thrown by the table lustreglobe, he saw, for the first time, the tiny piles of lint scattered across the carpet, beside the table legs, beneath the chairs, humped like anthills against the walls. He frowned, wondering what they were. They had no toys aboard. Had Mikael created his own game?

He turned halfway around, pointing to the lint. “What’re these, Mikael?”

The boy blinked owlishly. “They’re mountains.”

“What happens in those mountains?”

Mikael licked his lips anxiously, like he didn’t want to tell him. Then, in a suddenly violent voice, he blurted, “People kill each other!”

Tahn clamped his jaw tightly. Undoubtedly the boy’s game centered around killing Magisterial soldiers, taking revenge for the destruction of his world. In a kind voice, he asked, “Did you win?”

“My side always wins.”

“Good. Sometime, if you want someone to play with, I’ll fight on your side.”

Iona turned around and Tahn saw Mikael blanch. The boy pushed jet black curls out of his eyes and twisted his fingers in his lap, watching the doctor fill a syringe with sedative. The breathless look on Mikael’s face made Tahn queasy.

“For God’s sake, Iona. He’s only seven. Do you need so much?”

The doctor straightened indignantly. “I thought you said you wanted him out for the next twelve hours, Captain? Was I mistaken?”

“Does it take that much?”

“This dosage is adequate to keep him out for twenty. I think he needs the rest and that should give us enough time to complete our Horeb mission and be far away before—”

“That’s enough, Doctor.”
The words cut as sharply as glass, and Tahn knew it, but anger and futility taunted too powerfully just now for him to be civil. The last thing in the world he wanted was Mikael to know that he was going to kill another Gamant planet.

“Forgive me, sir. I didn’t realize—”

“Forget it.”

Guilt swelled in Tahn’s breast. He’d been treating his crew like strangers for the past week. So much so that they seemed to tiptoe around him. He couldn’t help it. He felt trapped, on the verge of reckless actions. His mind had gone round and round the circle of possible alternatives and the only way he could see of resolving his inner conflicts was to resign his commission.

At the thought, a cold wave of fear splashed him. The Galactic Magistrates would erase all the memories he’d gained while in government service, claiming it was a matter of galactic security. Then he’d be confined to an institution for the rest of his life. They had little sympathy for captains incapable of carrying out their orders, no matter how onerous.

And they’d gotten goddamned onerous in the past year. How many planets had he killed? Four? Or should he count the half measure on Nuja? And at this very instant he stood on the precipice of another attack on Horeb.

The ache in Tahn’s stomach intensified as he watched Iona lift the syringe again. “This just looks big, Mikael. It won’t cause any pain. Sometimes, though, it makes you hear or see funny things. You just ignore them, all right?”

“Like what?”

“Oh, strange voices or flashes of light. But they aren’t real. Don’t let them scare you.”

The boy looked up at him accusingly from beneath dark lashes. “Are we orbiting Horeb, sir?”

Tahn held his breath. “Yes.”

“I have a cousin on Horeb. Can I go see her? I think she lives in a city named Seir.”

“We’re not going to stay for very long. We’re just here to pick up a prisoner.”

“But the doctor said we’ll be here for hours. Maybe if you didn’t give me that shot I could go down for just a few minutes.”

“No. I—I’m sorry.”

Mikael fumbled with the sleeve of his brown robe. “I guess it doesn’t matter. My cousin probably thinks I’m dead anyway. Just like everybody else does.”

Tahn shoved his hands in his pockets, straining at his own impotence. He had no choice. His orders from Slothen obliged him to target the capital first. In an hour, this boy’s cousin would be swallowed by a massive wave of molten rock and debris.

He fought to keep his voice steady, “Why don’t you lie down, Mikael. This won’t take very long.”

“Yes, sir.” Bravely, Mikael stretched out on his back. He dug tiny fingers into the gray blanket and watched intently as Iona came across the cabin to lean over him. The syringe gleamed silver.

Gently, Iona said, “I’m going to push up your sleeve, all right, Mikael?”

“You’d better hurry. I might throw up.”

“Oh, don’t do that. This isn’t nearly as bad as it looks.”

Iona moved the brown cloth from Mikael’s left arm and then placed the barrel of the syringe against it. A whoosh of air sounded and the cold barrel went away. Mikael opened his eyes and looked curiously at the cold spot on his arm.

“See? That didn’t hurt, did it?” Iona asked.

“No, sir.”

“When the sedative starts to be absorbed, it will ache a tiny bit, but by then you should be asleep. So you won’t feel it except for just a minute.” Iona backed away.

Tahn heaved a sigh and walked to Mikael’s bedside. Kneeling, he forced a confident smile. “Are you okay?”

Mikael just glared.

Tahn pulled the blanket up and tucked the edges around Mikael’s legs, making sure he’d be warm enough. “There’s nothing to worry about, you understand? You’ll just sleep for a few hours and when you wake up—”

“You’ll take me to Magistrate Slothen? So I can talk to him? I need to talk to him. An angel told me I had to.”

“An angel?” A tingle touched Tahn’s spine. Imaginary friends? Defense mechanisms came in many forms. He had a number of his own that were no less exotic—like having to position chairs to form a barricade around his bed every night after a major battle to keep the ghosts at bay. Thank God his crew knew nothing about such things or they’d wonder about his sanity.

“Yes, sir. The angel’s name is Metatron. He comes as a big dark shadow, then turns into a bright and shining man. He’s the one who took me down the mountain to Colonel Silbersay’s office before …”

At the pained look, Tahn’s heart slammed against his ribs. “I’ll take you to Slothen. Under the Treaty of Lysomia, it’s your right. I’ll make sure nobody stops you. Don’t worry, now. You just get a good sleep.”

Mikael’s mouth pursed and his eyes glistened with bitterness. Tahn felt sick to his stomach. Gently, he ruffled Mikael’s hair before standing up.

“I’ll see you in a few hours. I have some arrangements to conclude with a Councilman on Horeb, then I’ll come back and we’ll—”

“About the prisoner?” Mikael demanded.

“I’m afraid so.”

Mikael’s face contorted. “You’re going to hurt Horeb, aren’t you?”

Tahn opened his mouth to give some quick lie, but no words would come.

“Aren’t you?”
Mikael demanded, bracing himself up on his elbows.

Tahn blindly studied the boy’s tiny shoes placed so carefully at his bedside. “Sometimes, Mikael, I have to do things I don’t like. It’s just that—”

“Because the Magistrates tell you to?”

“Yes. I’m an officer in their fleet. I have to obey orders.”

Mikael wiped a hand beneath his runny nose. On the verge of angry tears, he said, “You’re a bad, bad man.”

“Mikael, I—”

“Go away! I don’t want you here anymore!”
He curled on his side and closed his eyes, evading everything Magisterial that filled the world around him. Tucking a finger in the corner of his mouth, he sucked softly.