Treasure of Light (The Light Trilogy) (75 page)

Her face slackened. The entire starboard of the cruiser lay open to attack. Just one more direct hit and….

“Uriah!” she shouted, as people scrambled back into their seats. “Get on com! Go ahead. Send that message to Kopal!”

It began as a whisper in her mind, then seemed to grow in strength to echo from everywhere on the bridge
—
a deep startlingly beautiful voice.
“Please countermand that order, Lieutenant.”

“What?” She rose out of her chair, gaze flashing over every part of the bridge. “Who said that?” She saw Uriah’s hand hovering shakily over his console, unsure what to do. As he started to lower it to comply with her order, she raged, “Wait!”

A shadow crept across the back of the room, like a gigantic writhing serpent of the deepest black. In a brilliant flash of light, a man of the purest gold appeared. Dressed in a dark green velvet cloak, he cocked his head, looking at her through the saddest eyes she’d ever seen. Magnetic, those eyes drew Carey powerfully.

“Lieutenant,” he greeted in a calm voice. “Thank you.”

He stepped down to the second level, walking gracefully and purposefully over to Neil Dannon. Dannon looked up at him in shock, mouth slightly ajar. Carey could only watch, too stunned to speak.

“Who … who are you?” Dannon asked.

The man of light’s amber eyes seemed to flare more brightly. “Your people need you, Captain Dannon. Will you help them?”

“What?”

“You must get into the navigation chair. Lieutenant Halloway’s weapons will be back on line in a few seconds and she needs an
expert
weapons officer—or everybody aboard this vessel will die.” The alien being smiled sorrowfully at Dannon. “You don’t really want that to happen, do you?”

Dannon didn’t seem to be breathing. He started to shake his head, then stopped. “I… I don’t think I can.

“Try. The road back is not nearly as hard as you imagine. Let me help you. Give me your hand.” The being extended glowing fingers. They cast a saffron glow over Dannon’s frozen features.

“Who
are
you?”

“I offer you salvation, Captain. Will you take responsibility for your sins?” the alien said soothingly. “Do you know that Jeremiel has wished a thousand times in the past few months that he had you at his side? He’s prayed for the clock to be reversed so he could talk to you—as you asked him to do so many times.” He stretched his hand farther, hovering only a few inches from Dannon’s. “Come, help
him.
Help your people.”

“Are you … are you an angel?”

Carey found herself hanging breathlessly on his answer. From the first time she’d read the ancient remnants of the
Pseudepigrapha,
she’d harbored a secret belief that “angels” existed—as a reclusive alien species. The glowing being turned slightly to throw her a curious smile, as though he’d read her thoughts. Then he lowered his gaze, looking back to Dannon.

“Yes, Captain. I’m an angel. Now, please, we haven’t much time. You were always particularly brilliant with weapons strategy. Remember the maneuver you pulled in the Opus system?”

Dannon blinked. Tears glistened in his eyes. Finally, he nodded. “You mean we’ve got to pivot—”

“Yes. Exactly, Captain. You see, the message you want to send to Rudy will only make him hurt for a split second before he decides it’s a ruse of Tahn’s. In that instant, I’m afraid Captain Bogomil will pick up your transmission and you’ll be struck devastatingly from both sides at once.”

Carey gripped her chair, digging her nails into the gray petrolon. “Blessed God.”

Dannon lifted a quaking hand a few inches. The angel reached out and took it, helping Dannon to his feet and smiling in quiet pride. “Please, take your chair, Captain.”

Olam Lars instantly yielded the nav console, running to strap into the auxiliary weapons center on the far wall. Dannon sprinted across the room, sitting down. Carey’s eyes widened as the
Hoyer’s
systems seemed to come back on line in a massive flood. The three-sixty monitors flared insistently with complete information. The audio com babbled, picking up several signals at once. Uriah nervously slapped controls to silence it. The thrum of a ship on full power eddied across the bridge.

And on the forward monitor, the Underground fleet started their next run, four lining out, two swinging around. A chill premonition of doom made Carey shiver; she braced herself.

The angel’s eyes caressed her face for an instant before he walked over to her command chair. She fought the urge to back away from him. His cloak swayed with his movements. Hesitantly, so as not to frighten her, he reached out a hand and gently touched her shoulder.

“Lieutenant,” he said softly, for her ears alone. “Be kind to Jeremiel. He’s been hurt enough.”

She gazed into those gentle amber eyes and heard herself murmur, “Yes. I will.”

A gush of warm wind swept the bridge. A huge dark maw spun out, blotting the sight of the transport tube. He backed away into it, vanishing in a swirl of green cloak. It spun closed behind him.

“Carey?” Dannon called with controlled urgency. His eyes were focused on the forward monitor. “Are you ready?”

“I am. Just tell me what the hell we’re doing.”

CHAPTER 57

The acceleration pressed Rachel back into her chair like a rough hand. She watched Tahn check and recheck the monitors. He took the ship straight up, then swung around and headed back for Block 10. Rachel panicked. “What are you doing?”

“Cleanup duty.”

They soared over brush and stony plateaus. In the distance, Rachel could see Gamants racing in three distinct groups of a few hundred each across the sands. At the gate of Block 10 twenty or thirty Magisterial officers stood. Several more soldiers ran for the ships lined up outside the walls.

“Damn it,” Tahn cursed.

He roughly nosed the
Eugnostos
down and Rachel watched the determination on his face when he programmed the weapons. He struck the “fire” button and brilliant purple arcs lanced out from the shuttle, panning the soldiers in front of the gate and slashing through the pilots who fought desperately to get into their ships. Rifle bursts splashed their shields like lavender paint. Diligently, expertly, Tahn swung back around and battered each vessel. The ships ruptured, throwing dirt, men, machinery, and chunks of Block 10’s walls into the rain-drenched skies of Tikkun.

As the
Eugnostos
swooped up and started to head away, Rachel reached over and gripped Tahn’s forearm hard. He gave her a deadly look.

“What’s the matter?”

Rachel’s heart thundered. “Hit the camp.”

He shook his head lightly. “But what if there’s still some survivors in there. They might—”

“Anybody who’s left in there will consider death a gift from God compared to what awaits them when the Magistrates retake Block 10.”

Tahn’s blue-violet eyes softened—as though he, too, could visualize the horror of the probe deaths these victims would be forced to endure.

“Understood,” he said.

They hurtled down again. When the cannons let loose, the camp’s photon shield flared like molten gold—warping and fluctuating into an obscene wound before it vanished. Tahn methodically hit the gray buildings inside, sending fragments tumbling like huge bits of shrapnel into the air. When he pounded Lichtner’s personal quarters, he took special care to leave nothing standing but a jagged mass of rubble.

“Yes,”
she hissed. “Yes.”

They shot up and away. Below them, the continent of Amman shone half in sun, half lost in dark clouds. Across the eastern portion, dark tangles of trees fringed the borders of an aquarmarine ocean. Rachel gazed contemplatively at it, remembering the magnificent cerulean expanse that spread outside of Dor—longing for it.

She shifted her gaze back to the Yaguthian Desert. Sunset crept over the westernmost edges, darkening the cliffs with patchwork shadows. A few flecks of gold sparkled in strangely regular patterns, equidistant, formed into rough squares. Fighting against the acceleration, she leaned forward, to get more of the portal’s view.

“Captain?” she asked. “Do you know what those patterns of lights are?”

“I’d suspect more camps like Block 10.”

“More….” She sat in stunned immobility. More of them? But, of course, undoubtedly nine other Blocks existed before number ten. How many after? Lichtner boasted of killing at least twelve thousand. If each camp had a similar record …. She bowed her head in silent prayer to a God she no longer believed possessed any compassion.

Tahn reached over and started to punch one of the com patches, but his hand halted in mid-motion. He stopped so suddenly that Rachel’s breath caught. She spun to look at him. His eyes were glued to the long front portal, chin squared so bluntly that it seemed he fought a tearing inner pain. Rachel saw the arteries in his throat throbbing rapidly.

“What’s wrong?” she demanded.

“Cruisers, lining out. We might have to …”

In a move so violent it made her cling to her chair, the shuttle veered sharply right, angling down like an out of control missile. The ground rose up in a swirling sickening rush of green and brown.

“Where are we going?” she shouted.

“Someplace safe!”

They dove toward the night side of the planet, toward a dark forest. For a few minutes, Rachel concentrated on the horizon. Stars twinkled dully through a layer of fog. Tahn skimmed the tops of the trees, cursing softly, slamming a fist repeatedly into his leg. He turned the ship in a tight circle, nosing down toward a small irregularly shaped meadow, covered almost completely by a canopy of trees. They landed amidst a spray of dry multicolored leaves. The ship made a dull thud when it struck too suddenly.

Tahn immediately shut off his EM restraints. His hands darted over the patches and Rachel saw the front portal change. The vision of trees swaying through the fog vanished. A new image crystallized in holographic detail. Ships, rushing headlong at each other. She jerked as a violet web of actinic brilliance lashed the scene. Three or four cruisers flared in silent agony, then went out. Several more wavered under fire, shields faltering. Then both sides veered away, swinging around. One ship shot across into the opposing side, forming up with them. Every ship moved—but one. A cold pit expanded in Rachel’s stomach.

“Is that the
Hoyer?”
she asked.

His gaze was riveted on the scene. “Yes. She’s taken at least six hits.”

“What does that mean? Is she….”

“No. Not yet.” He shook his head. “But Carey’s caught in the middle.” Anguish tinged his strong voice. He input several commands into his control com, waiting a few seconds for readouts. Then he slowly sank back in his chair.

“Those are Underground cruisers on the left.”

Her heart fluttered with hope. “And on the right?”

“Magisterial.”

“So, the Magistrates have more ships.”

“Might not matter. The Underground has better positioning. I’d wager they’re evenly matched.”

Sybil?
“Can we do something?”

“I… I don’t think so.” He caressed his forehead. “Trying to reach Carey could kill her. She’s obviously played her hand well. Did you notice that none of the Magisterial vessels fired on her? Just the Underground. I suspect that’s Kopal up there and if he hears my voice, the
Hoyer
is certainly dead.”

In a flash, Tahn climbed out of his chair. He hurried into the rear compartment. Rachel swung her chair around, watching him go to Jeremiel’s bedside. “Baruch?” He took a hand-corder and ran it over the length of Jeremiel’s body, checking vital signs. “Too weak,” she heard Tahn murmur. “And we don’t have any drugs to bring him out.”

From the corner of her eye, Rachel caught movement on the holo. She looked back. The cruisers had begun another run.
“Tahn?”

He careened back into the command cabin, eyes on the holo, breathing fast and light. He pressed a fist to his mouth as he watched.

Cruisers reconfigured, fanning out, facing off. They both took a deep breath and held it. Then something strange happened. Just as the Magisterial ships approached the
Hoyer’s
position, and the Underground came into firing range, the
Hoyer
pivoted like a supremely skilled ballerina, coming full around to fire into the onslaught of Magisterial vessels. The lead government ship flared and vanished. Another died swiftly, brilliantly. The others braked violently, swerving in erratic patterns, suddenly realizing they’d fallen into a trap. The Underground cruisers seemed momentarily confused.
They held their fire!
Swooping down around the
Hoyer,
four ships fell into formation with her, combining firepower. The remaining ships came to near halts, five against four, pouring ergs into each other.

“What the hell are they doing!” Tahn demanded, teeth gritted. “Get out of there!
Get out!

Rachel leaned forward breathlessly. “What’s happening? It looks like a standoff.”

“Gridlock,” he whispered miserably and shook his head. “The Underground waited too long to start firing. The Magisterial ships got too close, now none of them can pull away—without dying. They’ve got to fight it out.”