Treasure of Light (The Light Trilogy) (37 page)

“We were growing concerned. Why haven’t you reported confirming receipt of the Horebian cargo and requesting further instructions?”

Cole straightened indignantly, setting his jaw. “With all due respect, Magistrate, our last dattran notified you we had concluded arrangements regarding Baruch and requested two weeks off-duty time on Lopsen. We’ve been
patiently
awaiting
your
reply.”

Slothen blinked as though taken off-guard. “Did you?” In his most juddering mechanical voice, he continued, “Oh, forgive me, Captain. Now that I think about it, I do recall that message. Things have been rather hectic here, as I’m sure you can imagine. I’ll certainly have to reprimand my staff for not reminding me.”

“May I take that as authorization for a vacation, sir?”

Slothen’s blue hair writhed and Tahn grimaced, just as he always did. “No, I’m sorry. We have a new mission for you that is of urgent strategic importance.”

“I see.” He ground his teeth a moment, concentrating on looking disgruntled. In irritation, he lightly pounded a fist into his chair arm.

“I do apologize, Captain. Please assure your crew that we will make amends as soon as possible by giving them a full month off on a planet of your choice.”

“How soon, Magistrate? My crew has been riding herd on these lunatic Gamants for nearly a year straight. We’re—if you’ll excuse me—goddamn tired. You cannot expect mentally and physically exhausted soldiers to perform at peak capacities.”

“I realize that. Please ask them to be patient. I’ll take the matter up with the military advisory council.”

“We’d appreciate that. Thank you for allowing me to express my dismay. What is our next mission?”

Slothen turned slightly and acted as though he were speaking with someone else in the room, but no sound of voices penetrated the bridge. He must have doused the audio. A moment later, Brent Bogomil’s face filled the monitor.

“Cole?” Bogomil called affably. “How are you? How did the scorch attack on Horeb go?
I hope you reached a hundred and one percent efficiency.”

Tahn’s heart stopped. Bogomil knew! The 101 code was brand new and only used to clandestinely inform another commander of desperate problems. “Yes, Brent. A hundred and one percent.”

“Good. You had me worried. We’ve tried to tran you twice since we arrived at Palaia and couldn’t get through.”

Tahn responded calmly, “We had some downtime on the link, Brent. Nothing major. So tell me, how the hell did you get a vacation at Palaia when we’re still stuck orbiting Horeb?”

Sweat seemed to pop out over Brent’s pale face. He wiped at it nonchalantly. “Unfortunately, this isn’t a vacation, Cole.
Jataka
has simply been rerouted. We’re to rendezvous with the
Hoyer
around Tikkun.”

“Oh, in the name of God, Brent! Another Gamant mission?”

His crew responded to his outrage by shifting disgustedly. Moans and subvocal curses laced the air. He wanted to kiss them.

“Sorry, old friend. It looks like we’ll be doing a dog-and-pony show for the next few months. Slothen promises me, however, that our crews will have ample planetside time to enjoy themselves in lieu of full vacations.”

He leaned back in his chair, briskly rubbing the knots out of the back of his neck. “It’s not the same and you know it. But I guess we don’t have a say in the decision. What’s the show?”

Bogomil hesitated a moment, then lifted a shoulder apologetically. “The Gamant Underground is wreaking havoc across Sector Four. We have rebellions cropping up everywhere. The Magistrates think that if we make a spectacle of Baruch—you know, haul him around and point the condemning finger at him—his people will lose some of their fervor for war. What do you think?”

From the corner of his eye, he caught the wolfish looks exchanged by the Gamant guards. Baruch himself, however, glared unblinkingly at the screen.

Tahn responded, “I think it’ll be a witless debacle, Brent. What idiot thought it up?”

Bogomil glanced sideways at Slothen. “We’ll be accompanied by a new Gamant ambassador. Hopefully, he can make the thing work.”

“Uh-huh. Who’s this new ambassador? Some soft diplomat we’ll have to cart around?”

“I believe you know him, Cole. He’s the former High Councilman of Horeb. His name’s Ornias.”

He lifted his chin, eyes narrowing. “I know him. He’s about as slimy as they come.”

Baruch took a deep breath and quietly leaned a shoulder against the wall. He scanned the bridge, eyes gleaming with deadly intent.

“Can you work with him, Cole?”

“I can work with anybody. Well, I guess we’ll meet you at Tikkun, Brent. What’s our timetable?”

Bogomil’s face-vanished to be replaced by Slothen’s. The Magistrate pursed his mouth into a stern circle. “We have some arrangements to conclude—in the capital city of Derow, Captain. Why don’t you take it slow? Say you meet the
Jataka
in two weeks standard time?”

“Aye, sir. One last thing.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“We’ve been expecting some sort of appearance by Baruch’s forces. A rescue mission, if you will. Have you received any intelligence on the whereabouts of his fleet?”

“Yes, I have very good news to report on that score. We’ve destroyed half his fleet. We—”

Tahn sat forward abruptly. “Begging your pardon, sir?
Half!”

Baruch straightened, eyes narrowing as though he’d just heard his own last rites read.

“Yes, Captain. Eight Underground cruisers were picking up survivors in the Abulafia system. We cornered and destroyed all but one. The other half have vanished, however. We suspect they’re headed for Sector Four—and probably the Lysomian system.”

Anxiety tingled in Tahn’s chest. If the government had severely wounded the Underground fleet, the rest of the cruisers would be regrouping, preparing a counterattack. That “other half” could be right on top of him this very moment and he’d never know it. But if Baruch hadn’t been able to contact them….

“Well, we’ll keep our eyes open. Please let us know if you receive further intelligence.”

“We will, Captain. Slothen out.”

The screen went blank and the entire bridge seemed to heave a sigh of relief.

Baruch stepped forward, expression strained. His voice came out unsettlingly soft. “What happened around Abulafia?”

Cole blurted, “How the hell would I know? I haven’t been in any condition to tap clandestine trans.” Then his voice went hard. “So, how many people you think you lost? Twenty thousand? More?”

Baruch glared, fingering his pistol before leveling the barrel on Carey. She blinked and lowered her eyes in a gesture so fragile it made Tahn want to get up and offer some kind of aid, anything to make her feel better. He grimaced uncomfortably. When the hell had she developed that look?

“Halloway,” Baruch ordered,
“find out
what happened in the Abulafian system.”

“Certainly, Commander. Please have your people in Engineering release dattran control to me.”

“I have a better idea.” He motioned for her to come to him. She stood and walked toward him. When she got near, he grabbed her roughly by the arm and she let out a small cry of surprise.

Instinctively, thoughtlessly, Tahn lunged for Baruch, trying to protect Carey.

“No, Cole! Don’t!”

He saw only a glimpse of her frightened green eyes, before five Gamant guards had him laid out like a slab of meat on the bridge floor. Their smothering bodies and hard hands convinced him to stay there.

In the kindest voice he’d ever heard, Baruch murmured, “Sorry, Halloway. I didn’t mean to scare you. I want you to use the com in my cabin. That way I can watch your every move.”

“Try asking next time. I’m not deaf.”

Baruch gently shoved her into the tube. Two Gamants gripped Tahn’s arms and jerked him to his feet, then forced him in after her. Carey glanced over her shoulder, face lit with concern, to make sure he was all right.

They exchanged a brief look of shared understanding and Cole smiled faintly. They might be outnumbered ten to one, but they both knew what they had to do now. Until Bogomil or the Underground fleet showed up, Baruch had a few thousand civilian amateurs to work with. But he and Carey had five hundred trained Magisterial soldiers.

CHAPTER 28

Jeremiel squinted against the harshness of the lustreglobes in the transport tube. Though he’d spent most of his life in this stark light, after living on Horeb for a few months, he missed the soft silken glow of candles and braziers which reminded him so much of the halcyon days of his youth on Tikkun. Slothen’s hideous face had ripped the sack of his memories wide and they tumbled in a flood into his waking consciousness. While he’d listened to that stiff monotone speaking intergalactic lingua, he’d seen the dead faces of a hundred friends, the smoking devastated surfaces of a dozen planets—and he’d longed to retreat from the harsh lights and hear someone speak to him in Gamant again. He glanced at Rachel. She stood tall and stoic on the other side of the tube, dark eyes taking it all in. Dressed in a gray Magisterial uniform, perspiration shone in a shiny patch across her forehead. He wished he could get close enough to talk to her, to ask if she’d had any interesting
dreams
lately, but the tube was too crowded.

He bowed his head to avoid the glare of the overhead panel, and found himself gazing into Halloway’s eyes. Pressed close as they were now, he could smell the subtle fragrance that clung to her, something earthy, like wild-flowers after a rain. Where had he smelled that scent before? She had a strained alert look on her face that made him avert his gaze, feeling raw inside. Was she afraid he might hurt her again?

He lowered his voice for her ears alone, “On the bridge … I was on edge. I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t you?”

“No, I’m sorry. I just…” He stopped when Tahn turned to pin him with a wary, calculating gaze.

“What are you going to do if you can’t find your fleet before we get to Tikkun, Baruch?”

“We’re not going to Tikkun.”

Tahn braced an arm against the tube wall and gave him an amused look. “No? Come on. You know if you don’t at least head the
Hoyer
in that direction, the Magistrates will be all over this ship and you and your friends will be dead. And second—”

“But in that case, Captain, so will you and yours.”

“Second, something’s up. And I know the way you think. If the government has destroyed half your fleet and initiated some sort of suppression action on your home world, you won’t be able to keep your fingers out of it.”

Jeremiel’s gaze drifted back to Rachel. She looked at him fearfully.
Five cruisers, she’d said. Dear God.
His gut had been crawling since she’d first mentioned it. But he couldn’t base future strategies on someone’s “dreams.” He needed concrete data. And yet…

The transport tube stopped on level four and Jeremiel pulled Halloway back against the wall. “Rachel, take Janowitz and Uriah, make certain Captain Tahn gets back to his cabin safely. Post a guard to make sure he stays there.”

“Wait a minute, Baruch.” Tahn struggled against the hard hands that gripped his arms. His purple uniform clung to his back in sweat-damp folds.

“What do you want?”

“Let’s discuss ship psychology. You know what happens when a commander is absent. The crew gets crazy.”

“Your point?”

“Let me go to the bridge. So long as you have the controls routed to Engineering, I can’t do anything, but my presence there will damn sure help my crew to stay calm. And the closer we get to Tikkun the more anxious they’ll be.”

Jeremiel ground his teeth and probed the depths of Tahn’s blue-violet eyes, seeing the pleading, but something else lay deeply buried there, too. What? He scrutinized his enemy a while longer. Naturally Tahn wanted to be with his crew, any commander in his position would, if for no other reason than the comfort of camaraderie. But beneath the emotion openly expressed in Tahn’s gaze, a logistical undercurrent flowed.

Jeremiel shook his head. “Negative. Maybe after we’ve—”

“You’re cutting your own throat, Baruch! My people won’t get any funny ideas if I’m there to ride herd. But if I’m not, there’s no telling what sort of trouble they’ll dream up. For God’s sake, if you want this to work,
let me go to my bridge!
Let me … let me be with my crew.”

The struggle in his imploring voice made Jeremiel’s brows draw together. “I want
four
guards on his door, Rachel, including you.”

“Understood.”

“Damn it, Baruch!” Tahn shouted, fighting the hands that dragged him out of the tube.

Jeremiel hit the patch to close the door and then punched level twenty, glaring threateningly at Halloway. “He’s persistent.”

“What did you expect?”

“I expect—”

“The hell you do.
You’re just being cruel. Are you tormenting him for his past? All he ever did was follow the orders of the Magistrates. Would you have done differently in his place?”

Her eyes gleamed like frozen emeralds. An ache rose to thump with Jeremiel’s heartbeat. He didn’t answer.