Treasure of Light (The Light Trilogy) (59 page)

CHAPTER 43

Cole pulled a chair out from the table and carried it to the opposite side of his cabin. Standing on it, he removed the critical overhead panel and meticulously searched the monitoring area. Nothing. He replaced the panel and climbed down, going to the wall panel near the table com. He took it down, searching, searching. Still nothing. He and his jailers had played a game of “disconnect” and “reconnect” on the monitors for days—but something had changed. He dropped into a chair by the table and drummed his fingers on the top, scrutinizing every nook, every shadowed niche. Eloel had taken him down the hall for a private chat about nothing. What had Janowitz done while he was gone? Or was it just a ruse to keep him off balance?

His door com buzzed, Carey’s voice filtering through, “Cole? It’s Halloway.”

“Come in.”

She entered and blinked owlishly to accustom her eyes to the nearly complete darkness. Only the lamp on his desk gleamed, casting a bare pewter glow over the walls. He stood up, propping a hand on one hip. The chevrons on her shoulders sparked like fire in the light, her uniform glowing as darkly as old blood.

He turned and deliberately gave her a galled look. She took a step back.

“What did I do?”

He folded his arms, glaring. “Why hasn’t Baruch sealed my cabin yet? Surely he knows by now that I’m wandering the ducts.”

She started to answer, but he shook his head and walked to the table, motioning her over. He took a tiny hand com unit, shielding its screen with his body while he keyed in:
Suspect new monitoring devices installed, but can’t locate. Make plausible conversation.

She nodded, heaving a sigh of relief, then spat offensively, “How would I know why your cabin’s still open? What do you think I am? Baruch’s adviser?”

“You spend enough goddamned time with him.”

“Was that jealousy in your voice?”

“Not in your wildest dreams. Why do you think he’s letting me wander at will through my ship?”

Millhyser’s found a way into the main com through one of the training programs. We’ll attack just after we set Gamant civilians down on Tikkun.

“I haven’t the vaguest idea. Why don’t you ask him?”

“Because I think it might be a little ill-advised to discuss strategy with the enemy right now. We each know where the other stands. But the fool must not realize what effect my mobility has on my crew.”

She keyed in:
What’s the plan?
“Don’t be naive. Baruch knows crew mind-set as well as you or I. Better probably.”

“You give him too damned much credit. And you always have.” He slammed a fist loudly into the table. “I’m sick and tired of your tirades on his brilliance! I’m beginning to question where your loyalties lie.”

Millhyser setting up computer virus. Will effectively short-circuit Baruch’s ability to run or defend
Hoyer
from external attack.

She caught her breath, staring at him disbelievingly. “My loyalties are clear and you know it. Let’s get back to the subject, Captain. Baruch still believes Dannon’s alive. Maybe he’s willing to risk your presence will galvanize the crew in the hope that you’ll lead him to his ex-best friend.”

You plan on leaving us open to attack? Goal?

Shields will be functional to defend against
Jataka.
But Baruch won’t be able to run or return fire. I hope Bogomil catches on after getting silent treatment from
Hoyer.
He may make a few passes, but I know Brent. He’ll cut attack if we’re not returning fire.

“Well, in that case, Baruch is wasting a hell of a lot of time and energy—since Dannon’s dead.”

Goal?

Gives us time to take ship back from inside. Baruch can’t get away. Us against them.

“His ‘energy’ isn’t my concern!” Halloway growled indignantly.

“No? That’s not what I’ve heard. Baruch’s own people in my hallway have been whispering that you’ve spent the past three nights—”

“You sonofabitch! I ought to kill you for that!”
You’re locking us in the mental ward with the patients and betting we’ll come out on top? Sheer lunacy.

Got a better idea?

Negative.

“Kill me?” He laughed condescendingly. “Come on, let’s see you try. Come on, honey, let me see you fight!”
You’ve been with Baruch. What’s his mood?Nervous?

She shook her head.
Eerie. Calm. Galaxy by the horns.

“Shut up, Cole! Just shut up, for God’s sake!”

“What’s the matter? Afraid to try out your level one hand-to-hand rating on me?”
Probably has an unpleasant surprise for us up his sleeve. Any word on his fleet yet?

Negative. Suspect, however, that if he’d made contact, we wouldn’t still be headed for Tikkun. He’d set up rendezvous some place safer.

“Cole,” she said imploringly, “please, I know you’re worried. Calm down. Just relax for a minute. I don’t want to fight you.”

“Worried? Why would I be worried?” he shouted, then exhaled tensely and paused for several moments. “Carey … I’m sorry. I’m just—just crazy right now.”
We’ve laid plans.

She gave him a dubious look.
I’m not going to like it, am I?

You might. You’ve got guts. You’re the only member of crew who has access to Baruch. Want you with him when we initiate attack. Kill him if possible.

Affirmative.
“Cole,” she said poignantly, “you weren’t serious when you made that crack about Baruch, were you? You don’t really think I’d—”

“No. No, of course not, Carey. Forgive me. I just…. I’m sorry if I hurt you. I know you’d never betray me.”

“Good,” she said in a painfully small voice.

She grinned and he shook his head. They shared a look of conspiratorial warmth that set his soul to aching, then Carey picked up the mini-corn again.
Timetable for initial stages?

I’m ordering Millhyser to organize placements of key players immediately. Virus will not be introduced in system until just before refugees start going down.

“Anyway,” Carey said. “Just be glad Baruch’s too busy to take your freedom of movement seriously.”

Tahn lifted both brows and softly rubbed his chin. “He’s too smart not to. He’s up to something. He goddamn scares me to death.”

“Aye, Captain. Me, too.”

He tugged his head around to look at her. Something in her voice made him think that statement had a double meaning. He cocked his head questioningly. Taking the mini-corn, he keyed,
You all right?

She closed her eyes, nodding emphatically. “Well, if there’s nothing else you want to discuss, I think I’ll go back to my cabin.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Carey.”

“I hope so, Cole. Depends on how nervous Baruch gets.”

He reached out and squeezed her shoulder, nodding confidently to her. A brief smile flickered over her taut face. She patted his hand in return, then headed for the door.

Carey strode briskly down the hall, stomach rising threateningly into her throat. She forced it down. Eloel walked at her side, escorting her to the tube. She couldn’t let the enemy see her vulnerable.
Blessed God… I owe Cole my life a dozen times over. But kill Jeremiel? Oh, no. Stop it!
Who
physically dragged you out of the shuttle wreckage in that firefight on Horin III, at risk of his own life?
Who
gave you his bed and blankets and nursed you like a sister when you caught Puxa fever during the fighting on Sythian VII? Cole…. Always Cole at your side, helping you, encouraging you, smiling away your darkest fears. A hell of a captain
—
and friend.
When they rounded the corner and caught sight of the tube, Carey’s feet faltered, unable to take another step. She slumped against the wall, a sob lodged silently in her throat. Her stomach ached so terribly, she had to bend double.

Eloel stared down stoically, eyes glittering like the darkest obsidian. “Then don’t do it, Lieutenant.”

The words affected Carey like a brutal fist in the face. Had Baruch slipped in monitors despite their caution? No. Cole would have checked thoroughly. Eloel was guessing. Anger fired Carey’s veins, the burst of adrenaline bolstering her. She swallowed and forced her body to straighten up. Bracing a hand against the wall, she carefully made her way to the tube.

Jeremiel sat at his desk in the darkness. His breathing came quick and light. His blue jumpsuit rustled in the foreboding quiet. He squinted, trying to decipher the jumbled clues. The glow of his com unit cast amber light over his bare chest and hands, glimmering like a golden ghost across the rumpled white sheets of his bed.

NEUROPHYSIOLOGICAL RESEARCH: FILE NUMBER 19118.

Subject: Tikkun Experiments. Planetary Commander: Johannes Lichtner.

… strange levels of metabolites in cerebrospinal fluid. Suspect… arousal systems … aggressive sensation seeking results in inability to accept peace… abnormally high number of receptors in basal ganglia … misfiring of circuitry sets brain’s interpreter up for devising wrong methods … responds to endogenous events by delusional referents like journey through the
Mea …
serves to cope with turmoil … genetically founded….

“I don’t understand,” he whispered to himself. “Are you saying that Gamant brain structure is different? Or that we have abnormal levels of neurotransmitters? Why is either important to the Magisterial government? Developing new mind probe techniques?”

He lightly pounded his desk with his open hand. Desperation raised its ugly head. The hours slipped by as though each were a millennia of agony. If he could only find the hourglass and smash it, he could thrust them all into the eye of the cyclone and this endless tarrying would be over. He turned his attention once more to the final sentence fragment at the bottom of the file: Suggest massive sterilization of females over the age of….

His chair squeaked as he pushed slightly away from his desk. “God Above, what have we done to deserve such punishment?”

He needed someone to discuss this with. None of his own people knew the slightest shred about the Magistrates’ neurophysiology programs. He longed so to rush to Carey’s cabin that he found his muscles tensed on the verge of standing. He forced himself to relax.

“You can’t.”

He’d seen her too often already. He couldn’t risk further jeopardizing her position with her captain. Tahn had to trust her implicitly or Jeremiel’s own plans would come tumbling down around his ears. He shook his head, self-ridicule stinging in his chest.

To divert his mind from Carey, he turned to gaze at the
Mea.
It lay innocently on his white pillow, the golden chain snaking down to disappear amidst tumbled sheets. “The Magistrates are worried about you. They think the journey to the throne of God is delusional. Is it? I could resolve that question rather quickly, couldn’t I? All I have to do is place you against my forehead.”

He lifted a hand toward it, then recoiled, turning instead to abandon the neuro file. When it vanished, he input the secret access codes for the new file he’d been accumulating. He leaned back as data swelled on the screen. It took three hours, but he reread every line, once, then twice. He scrolled up to the beginning. His cursor flashed rhythmically on the first line.

Weight: Four billion tons.

He tugged on his beard, frowning. The
Mea
felt feather-light, almost weightless. Could the mass be in another universe and the magnetic trap merely serve as a spatial referent for the edge of a cross-universe vortex? A protective railing around the precipice to the void? The computer had no answer.

Absently, he murmured, “Outer containment vessel consists of cooled beryllium ions organized into a series of concentric spherical shells which form some sort of magnetic trap.”

High-energy gamma rays: 10 MeV.
But no radiation penetrated the containment vessel. Why?

He exhaled heavily, shaking his head. “A primordial black hole.”

In the past several centuries the Magistrates had tried to pry loose the secret of passage through the ring singularities of black holes to the parallel universes predicted by mathematics. But they never had. Though they utilized the holes in their cruiser engines to warp space and time in this universe, they’d never discovered the key to other universes. In fact, the last ship they’d sent through Palaia Zohar carried a Gamant apostate named Zevi in its crew. His desperately insane voice had been the last words anyone heard from the
Bashi.
Jeremiel remembered sitting rigidly on the bridge of the
Zilpah
listening intently to that final haunting transmission:

“Ship breaking up. Crew dead. But I feel like I’m floating…free… free.
…”

Maybe they’d been trying too hard, tackling major black holes when they should have concentrated on the tiny singularities that powered their engines and served as power plants on a thousand developing worlds? Maybe
physical
passage was unnecessary … impossible? But the pure energy of thoughts traveled unhindered?

“Curious,” he murmured to himself, studying the cerulean gleam of the sacred gate. Legends said the
Mea
had originally freed Gamants from the Magistrates’ tyranny millennia ago—though no one knew anymore what that meant since they still seemed to be captives.

“At the quantum level, primordial black holes are indistinguishable from white holes. They pour out so much matter they … glow.”

He slowly turned in his chair, scrutinizing it more closely. The stories Rachel told of Aktariel seemed far more frightening now. He reached over and picked up the
Mea
by the chain. A hypnotic pendulum, it swung before his eyes. Its light mixed with that of his com screen to make him feel like he floated in a silent aquamarine sea.

“Are you the key? The one device that makes passage to another universe possible? How about transporting the
Hoyer
to heaven? It would certainly make things easier. Better yet, how about taking all of Gamant civilization?”

He ground his teeth softly, thinking.

“You’re closed to Rachel, but open to me?
Why?”

White foamy swirls eddied across the cerulean surface of the
Mea.
The glow grew until it flared so brilliantly he had to look away. His breathing went shallow, gaze landing fearfully on his walls. They gleamed as though crusted with sapphires.

He almost jumped out of his skin when his com buzzed.

“Jeremiel?” Jonas Wilkes called. “I have two small visitors here to see you.”

Heart pounding, he said, “Who?”

“Sybil Eloel and Mikael Calas.”

He lifted his brows. He’d been feeling guilty about neglecting the boy. He reached over and threw his sheet over the
Mea,
then slipped a black shirt over his head and pulled it down. “Please, let them in, Jonas.”

He stood up as the door snicked open. In the square of light from the hallway, he saw them. Sybil stood nearly a head taller, brown curls fluffing around her face. Mikael looked terrified; he was biting his lower lip.

“Hi, Jeremiel,” Sybil said amiably. “Can we talk to you?”

“Sure. Come on in.”

Sybil put a hand at Mikael’s back and gently pushed him inside in front of her. When the door closed, she looked anxiously from Mikael to Jeremiel and back again, then she laughed suddenly and ran forward, arms outstretched. Jeremiel knelt down to catch her, hugging her tightly. Her arms twined like thin vines around his neck.

In his ear, she whispered, “Be nice to him. He’s scared.”

He hid a smile and nodded against the top of her head. “I will.”

Sybil stepped back and winked conspiratorially. “You’ve been awfully busy and we know it, but Mikael just wanted to talk to you for a few minutes. His grandfather told him something very important to tell you. You
need
to hear it.”

Jeremiel nodded seriously and stood up. Blessed Epagael, how she’d grown up since that day on Horeb when she’d crawled into bed with him and begged to be patted because she’d had a bad dream. Bowing respectfully, he greeted Mikael, “Leader Calas, I apologize for not having met with you before this. I’m at your disposal.”

Mikael shifted uncertainly, glancing at Sybil. She trotted back across the room, whispering, “That means you can talk to him for as long as you want.”

“Oh,” Mikael heaved a relieved breath and smiled shyly.

Jeremiel smiled back. “Your grandfather was one of my heroes, Mikael. What did he tell you?”

The boy frowned anxiously and walked forward. He’d taken only four steps when a massive blue light spurted from beneath his brown robe. Jeremiel spun breathlessly when the
Mea
on his bed responded by blazing to life, as well. The combined radiance flooded his cabin with a magical wash of azure. Sybil gasped and backed up until she hit the wall by the table. She stared openmouthed at Mikael who stood in the center of the room; his eyes had gone blank, as though he stared through the light to another universe. Baruch haltingly began, “Mikael, what’s—”

As though his words had triggered it, a beam shot out from Mikael’s
Mea
to strike the one lying beneath Jeremiel’s sheet. Across that thin bridge of light, a wall of icy blue fountained up, splashing the ceiling and showering down around them in a glittering luminescent veil. The children’s faces took on an ethereal sapphire gleam.

Zadok’s voices old and comfortingly familiar, echoed from the blaze:

“Jeremiel, you must hurry. The Antimashiah has come. You will know her by the initials AKT branded into her forehead. You must destroy her before she joins forces with Aktariel.”

Heart hammering, Jeremiel’s gaze darted around the shimmering room. He could almost perceive faces in the haze—amorphous, fiery images that swam in ghostly patterns. He felt light-headed.
Rachel?… the
Mea…
Aktariel… the Laced Star.
… He glanced at Sybil. She’d hidden behind a chair. Did she know those letters appeared on her mother’s brow?

“Zadok?” Jeremiel called frantically, “Are you sure? I can’t believe that she—”

“
You must kill her, Jeremiel. You have only days. Kill her… kill her… kill her.
…”

Zadok’s voice faded into nothingness and the ocean of dancing blue light vanished, returning them to the semidark cabin. Jeremiel’s breath shuddered in his lungs. He stared piercingly at Mikael.

After a long silence during which Sybil’s labored breathing seemed to fill the room, Mikael shook his head and came to again. He smiled at Jeremiel. “Did Grandpa tell you?”

“Yes. You—you didn’t hear him?”

“No, sir. But he told me he loved me before he left.” The boy turned luminous eyes on Sybil, who hunched against the wall, hiding behind a chair. “It’s okay, Sybil. We can go now.”

He held out his tiny hand and Sybil ran across the room to take it. Jeremiel watched them head for the door. Sybil kept throwing agonized looks over her shoulder at him.

Stunned, in shock, Jeremiel could only stare as they exited into the hallway and his door slipped shut again.

Sybil held Mikael’s hand as they ran past the guards and down the hallway toward the transport tube which would take them back to level nineteen. Mikael smiled happily, but blood boomed so loudly in Sybil’s ears she could barely think. Hearing Zadok’s voice come out of the light had scared her badly. She didn’t know what to think about Mikael anymore. He was still her best friend, but….

She watched him out of the corner of her eye.

He looked just the same.

They rounded a corner and Sybil worked up the courage to ask, “Mikael? Who is the Antimashiah? Did your grandfather tell you her name?”

“No. He just told me about the initials on her forehead.”

Sybil pushed brown curls out of her eyes and thought hard. She’d been dreaming about Aktariel all the time lately, because her mom did. Maybe God was trying to tell her something? Like maybe the Antimashiah was on board with them? She shivered suddenly, her eyes going wide at the terrible thought. From now on, she’d look at the forehead of every woman she passed.

They stopped in front of the transport tube and the guard, Joan Thomas smiled at them. Tall and slender with red hair, she had a friendly face. “Hello, kids, are you ready to go home?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sybil said as she pulled Mikael into the tube.

Joan hit the patch for level nineteen and Sybil cupped a hand to Mikael’s ear. “Mikael? Do you think maybe we’re supposed to help Jeremiel kill the Antimashiah?” She lowered her hand and looked at him.

He shrugged, then whispered, “I don’t know, Sybil. Maybe. Grandpa hasn’t told me yet, but it could be part of the war we’re going to lead.”

“Okay.” Sybil didn’t want to kill anybody, but if she had to, she guessed one of the best people she could kill would be the Antimashiah.

She grabbed Mikael’s hand and squeezed it hard. Together, they could do it.

CHAPTER 44

Rachel shoved her taza cup across the long black table, barely aware that Janowitz and Harper watched her in mute silence. They’d just dropped out of vault and Tikkun rotated lazily below them. Jeremiel had interrupted their rest period, ordering them to immediately assemble in this conference room. It was very early morning, and each looked a little ragged. Janowitz’s blond hair hung in spiky strands over his ears. Harper kept yawning and shifting in his chair.

The door snicked open and an irregular rectangle of light splashed the room. Jeremiel stepped inside. Dressed in the purple and gray of a
Hoyer
security officer, his handsome face showed more than gritty tiredness; he looked exhausted, as though he hadn’t lain down for even a moment last night. Instinctively, her gaze went to his chest where a small bump rose over his heart. So he wore the
Mea
now? He hadn’t tried to use it, had he? She’d called and called to Aktariel, demanding he talk to her. But he hadn’t come and she now wondered if the
Mea
was the only way Aktariel could reach her. Is that why he’d told her to give the sacred gate to Jeremiel?
He’d given up on her and was trying to find a new stooge?
She dropped her gaze and began puttering with her taza cup.

Jeremiel quietly studied the rotating holo of Tikkun that hung over the table. Alternating colors of blue, green, and gold reflected eerily from the dark mirrors of his brooding eyes. “Sorry to pull you all out of bed,” he explained as he walked forward. His blond hair and beard sparkled in the translucent waves of light, making it seem as though he passed through the hazy bands of a rainbow. He stopped to the right of the holo. “I’ve decided to make a major change in our plans. I’m discarding the old Plan A.”

Rachel jerked, sucking in a disbelieving breath, and a soft round of disconcerted whispers sounded. Harper and Janowitz exchanged uncomfortable looks.

“But, Jeremiel….” Avel lifted both brows incredulously. “I don’t understand. We’re completely organized for the original plan. Are you sure it’s advisable to make changes at this late hour?”

“Imperative. I’ve recently obtained some information which demands we refashion our strategy.”

“What information?”

He shot a quick glance at Rachel and she tensed. The
Mea?
Seconds passed like centuries before he responded.

“Apparently, the Magistrates have dispatched more battle cruisers for Tikkun than we’d previously thought.”

Janowitz paled, jaw slackening. “More than just the
Jataka?
How many more?”

“At least four.”

“But we’re still a week ahead of them, isn’t that right? Can’t we put our refugees down and—”

“We can’t be sure where those cruisers are. I’ve checked the long-range navigation signals and found nothing. Still, we must assume they’ll be here before we’re ready for them. Which means we have to neutralize the intraship threat immediately, put down our refugees, and pray to God we can get the hell out of here before those cruisers cage us.”

A dreadful silence descended. Rachel heard the careless scrape of Janowitz’s wazer pen across the smooth tabletop, the uneasy rustle of Jeremiel’s uniform. Then it broke when Harper breathed, “Blessed God, how are we going to do that?”

Jeremiel bowed his head. When he looked up, he focused solely on Rachel, but his eyes seemed to look through her, into some great future darkness they’d share. The hollow booming of her heart filled her ears.
I trust you,
his eyes said.
For God’s sake, don’t let me down.

Silent horrors congealed in her mind, horrors she’d been trying to ignore. They blossomed into a creeping terror that left her weak. Aktariel was the Deceiver.
What if he’d lied to her? What if those ships
weren’t
coming at all?
Had Aktariel misled her so that she would force Jeremiel’s hand, leading him down this particular path? And where did this path finally terminate? Surely Aktariel knew, or had a damned good idea. Bracing her hands against her chair seat, she straightened up.