Treasure of Light (The Light Trilogy) (60 page)

“All right, Jeremiel,” she murmured. “What do you want us to do and when do we start?”

He lifted a hand to a green forested area on the North Amman continent; it glowed as darkly as molten jade. “These impenetrable forests are our new target area. Janowitz, get your pilots familiarized with this location. They’ll be flying through the deepest darkest wilderness any of them have ever seen. Avel, in half an hour, I want your ten best security teams assembled in the rec room outside of Engineering.”

Leaning forward, Jeremiel input a numerical sequence into the table com and the holo of Tikkun switched to a huge square, delineating in blue the herringbone structure of the
Hoyer’s
halls. “This is level seven. I’ve organized an exact timetable for removal of target groups. Leaders will be taken early and separately. We’ll follow with groups of ten thereafter, with a one-to-one ratio of guards, heading them down empty corridors to different landing bays.”

Jeremiel perched on the edge of the table and met each of their gazes in turn. “Give your teams clear orders that if their charges display any overt hostility they’re to shoot to kill without hesitation. We can’t risk anyone escaping to tell their comrades what’s happening. If everything goes as planned, the entire operation should be over in about an hour. Then we can start worrying about the refugees.”

Jeremiel smoothed his hand over the black petrolon tabletop. “Chris, I’ll meet you in landing bay twenty-twelve in fifteen minutes. Avel, I’ll meet you in the rec room in twenty-five. The less time we all have to worry about this, the better.” He inhaled a deep breath. “One final thing. If worst comes to worst, if I’m dead or missing, and you sight cruisers converging on you from different directions…. There are some desperate measures I want you to take.”

Rachel’s mouth went dry as she listened to him softly explain his final solution to their problems. In the deep recesses of her mind, she could almost hear the pitiful cries of thousands dying.

When Jeremiel had finished, he said simply. “Please get started.”

Janowitz and Harper feverishly pushed back from the table and headed for the exit. Rachel stood, gazing questioningly at Jeremiel. He waited until the door closed behind Avel and Chris.

“Rachel, I have a special assignment for you. But first, let’s discuss the content of any
dreams
you might have head recently.”

“What do you want to know?”

“How’s Aktariel? Any word from him on when those cruisers might show up on our horizon?”

She braced her palms against the table, blinking ominously at the reflection of the blue herringbone patterns. “You sound like you believe he really exists.”

“Irrelevant. The information he provides in your dreams may make the difference between Gamant survival and destruction.”

She nodded. “I haven’t heard from him. I don’t know why.”

He put his hands on his hips and nodded. “Well, then I guess we’re on our own. Unfortunately.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I’ve assigned you a critical and difficult task. I want you to take Cole Tahn from his cabin down to room twenty-oh-nine—and keep him there no matter what. Kill him if you have to. I want you to get started immediately and don’t discuss your actions with anyone.”

“And what are you going to do?”

He breathed out a worried breath. “I’m going down to Tikkun to do a reconnaissance of Magisterial operations. I’ll be taking Halloway with me. She can—”

“No!” she blurted. “No, you …
you have to take Tahn.”

He tilted his head inquisitively. “Is that recommendation based on military strategy, or divine revelation?”

She shrugged noncommittally. “I don’t know for certain. There are some things Aktariel told me that I haven’t told you, I just couldn’t bring myself to—”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m terrified he’s using both of us for his own ends. Name of God! He’s the Deceiver!”

Jeremiel stroked his beard thoughtfully, but his blue eyes gleamed with an odd light. “So long as his goals correspond with ours, what difference does it make?”

Her mouth quivered.
It makes a difference, Jeremiel. He’s playing his own deep game. I can
feel
the patterns of it deep inside me
—in strands and conjunctions.
I just can’t figure out the weave.

Rachel leaned forward over the table and studied the splotches of green and gold light that splashed the black surface. Jeremiel walked closer, staring at her ominously.

“Let me decide what’s true and false, Rachel. I need every scrap of information if I’m to—”

“All right,” she blurted agonizingly. “I should have told you long ago, but I’ve been so frightened that Aktariel was using me as a tool to deceive you. I—I don’t know why you have to take Tahn, but….”

Sarah Norton nervously paced her cabin, waiting for her usual morning escort to the class she was teaching on Magisterial weaponry. Her nerves hummed with hatred and hope. Last night, she’d watched Millhyser introduce the com virus that would disable the
Hoyer.
She’d inserted it into a teaching file on singularity physics that tied, in a roundabout, tenuous way, into the auxiliary com in the maintenance department. From that point forward, every time a program was accessed, the virus gave a delete command. No one would know, not even the great Jeremiel Baruch, until too late. Depending upon how rapidly the green Gamant crew accessed programs, the problem might not become obvious for hours. The thought sent a thrill through her. Then she could wash her hands of these filthy Gamant ignoramuses forever. Her fingers itched for the comforting weight of a rifle. Tahn had laid their plans with painstaking attention to detail. Even if six of the arms in their sevenfold attack format failed, they could still take this ship back. Goddamned Gamants, they deserved what they were about to get.
Annihilation.

She smiled grimly. Her gaze drifted admiringly over the colorful abstract holos composed of lavender and green splatters on her walls. Soon, she’d have her old life back. She’d be traveling the stars, fighting to protect distant planets from pirates, bringing supplies to developing worlds, running hard and fast when they had to rescue populations from unsuspected natural disasters. Her soul ached with pleasant memories.

“Not long,” she promised in a hushed voice. “A few more hours and we’ll blow every filthy Gamant out the hatches just like Baruch did our crewmates.”

Her door com buzzed right on time, the familiar Gamant voice of her daily escort, Uriah, coming through: “Lieutenant Norton? Time for class. Are you ready?”

She clenched her fists and pounded the exit patch. Uriah stood with his rifle pointed at her middle. Black hair hung in dirty strands around his temples, accentuating the flush in his cheeks. She frowned. He looked like he was struggling to keep his face from reflecting emotions that tormented his gut.

He licked his lips nervously. “Let’s go, ma’am. You know the way.”

She stared at him for an instant and then began walking, heading for the seventh level classroom she’d grown so used to sitting in for eighteen hours a day. His steps sounded unnaturally quiet behind her. Was it just her own strained nerves or were his footfalls as calculated and soft as an assassin’s?

By the time she’d reached the final turn, sweat drenched her sides.

“Halt,” Uriah said with such hushed intensity it made her whirl on her toes to stare at him.

“Why?”

“We’re going in the other direction.” He pointed down the opposite corridor with his rifle barrel and took a step backward, clearing a new path for her.

She looked him over thoroughly, searching for any hint of his orders. Had they been found out? Was this some Gamant countermove they hadn’t anticipated. Another of Baruch’s insane tactics?
No, no, don’t panic. There’ve been no leaks.
But her mind riveted on Neil Dannon’s tortured face the last time she’d been forced to keep him company. He’d looked like a man on the verge of murder—or treason. Hesitantly, she started walking. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll find that out soon enough, ma’am.”

They made two more turns, striding quickly down empty hallways, then he ushered her into a transport tube.

Norton stepped out of the tube into the midst of chaos. Gamants in rags raced to and from down the hall, panting, feet thudding dully against the white tile floor. Men and women shouted orders back and forth. Like quick hard thrusts of a sword in her belly, she caught their gist.
They’d just initiated some plan of their own.

“Straight ahead,” Uriah ordered coolly.

She pushed around the horde in the corridor, but her steps halted when Uriah stiffly commanded, “Take the next left.”

“Into the landing bay?”

“Yes, ma’am. You’ll need to hurry. We haven’t much time.”

She stared aghast, feeling her knees start to knock gently together. “Where are you taking me?”

“Your pilot will inform you.” He gestured sharply for her to pass through the door. The longer she stalled, the harder his black eyes grew until she felt that gaze like hot flames against bare skin.

“My pilot?”

“Move.”

She stumbled backward through the doorway and came face to face with Lieutenants Macey, Ronan, Kleemer…. Her gaze darted quickly over the rest, logging each as her fears swelled suffocatingly. They had their hands bound behind their backs with EM restraints. In the center of the bay, a shuttle waited, gangplank down.

From all around, a circle of armed Gamants closed in, rifles kicked up to full force, hums shredding the heavy air.

Tears blurred her vision as the guards herded them toward the ship.

Rachel sprinted down the hall, her black braid tapping against her back. The empty corridor seemed forebodingly quiet. Only the dry-leaf rustle of her crisp purple and gray uniform disturbed the, somber urgency. Coming to an abrupt halt in front of Tahn’s door, she fought for a moment to control her breathing, then struck the com patch. “Captain? It’s Rachel Eloel.”

“Come in, Rachel.”

The door slipped open and she stepped inside, regripping her rifle in clammy palms. He took in the action without any apparent alarm, but a soft curiosity lit the depths of his blue-violet eyes. Dressed in a fresh uniform, his shoulders seemed even broader, muscles more clearly defined, bulging through the fabric. Brown wisps fringed his forehead. He evaluated her combative stance and the sergeant’s stripes on her arms, then spoke with soft deliberateness:

“Are we orbiting Tikkun?”

“Yes, Captain. Commander Baruch would like you to come to the bridge. Please hurry.”

He stood quietly. “I suppose he wants me to talk to Lichtner? I don’t blame him, but I’m not going to like it any better than he would.”

In a graceful motion, he strode past her into the corridor. She exited his cabin, giving him a sideways glance. She could almost feel the tension in his bunched muscles. It wrapped around her like an opaque black serpent.

He walked slightly ahead of her in silence, but she noted how carefully his gaze surveyed the corridor.

When they reached the tube, he obligingly hit the patch and casually remarked, “Is it just you and me today? Where’s Janowitz?”

“Chris is on another assignment.”

“Tormenting my crew, no doubt.”

“No doubt.”

His eyes gleamed with some hidden suspicion. “Well, if Baruch has dropped my guard to one, I must have ceased being the ship’s most desperate character—which is a credit to your talent. Who’s taken my place? Halloway?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Uh-huh.”

She reached out to pound the patch with a fist. Where the hell was the tube? He watched her closely, then his face slackened in some understanding.

“Rachel, just between us, am I walking into something worse than I think?”

“You’ll have to ask Jeremiel.”

“When accuracy counts, I’ll take your story any day.”

“I’m not at liberty to say, sorry.”

His gaze sharpened, becoming keen and alert, studying every uneasy movement she made. She strained to keep still, but found it nearly impossible. Anxiously, he tilted his head back and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“If this is a swan song I’m about to pull off, I’d like to know it beforehand. At this point in time, it can’t possibly hurt Baruch for me to know such minor details of his plans.”

“A swan song?”

“A
last
song.”

“He’s not going to kill you. I mean, I don’t think so.”

Tahn lifted a brow. “Well, that’s vaguely comforting. So what’s this really all about? Is-it just Lichtner we’re dealing with? Or is there someone else I need to prepare for?”

“If we’re going to have a pleasant chat about each other’s strategy, why don’t you tell me if you’ve already initiated your attack to take this ship back?”

His face fell into blank inscrutable lines, but he pointed at her rifle. “I’m not in much of a position to do that, am I?”

“I’ve studied your personnel file. I’d never be so bold as to underestimate you.”