Redemption of Light (The Light Trilogy) (17 page)

“Neurophysiological experiments on Gamant dissidents. They were researching—”

“They were murdering,
murdering
men, women, and children. Innocent civilians! I saw the bodies of hundreds of dead babies thrown into trash bins. I
witnessed
the ruthless murder of children!” His voice had risen to a violent crescendo as his memories replayed scenes of horror….
Dawn. A line of people standing before a ditch: naked, pitifully starved, hands bound behind their backs. Old women and little girls. A series of crisply uniformed soldiers stood on the opposite side of the ditch, rifles aimed … violet slashes of light, whimpers, the red soil running with blood….

Cole’s gaze impaled. “I turned against a government that betrayed me, Amirah. I thought I was fighting for righteousness, damn it! Not the Magistrates’ right to mercilessly torture human beings because of their cultural beliefs.”

Rage seethed on her face. “You turned against your crew!”

He stifled the urge to shout at her. In a very soft voice, he said, “Amirah, I put those people down on the planet to keep them safe. I did it specifically so they wouldn’t be tainted by my actions. I didn’t think the Magistrates would take it out on them, not if I—”

“You betrayed them.”

“No,” he defended. “I did everything I could to make sure they wouldn’t suffer because of my treason. I’d been involved in the
Annum
incident—which I’m sure you’re aware of—where the Magistrates also probed the crew to death. I put the
Hoyer
crew down to protect them from that. I just … just didn’t know the twists and turns the future would take. I betrayed a brutal
inhuman
government—not my crew.”

“It’s the same thing!”

He ruthlessly slammed a fist into the rug. Red dust puffed in the firelight. “And you called
me
an idiot. What are you, some sort of empty-headed fanatic about the government?”

Her cheeks vibrated with the grinding of her teeth. “You know as well as I do that the government and the people are inextricably—”

“No, they’re not! A man can disown a political movement without disowning the people who compose it, Amirah.”

“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “If he betrays one, he betrays both.”

Cole forced his agitated nerves to calm, and kept his voice steady. “Indeed? If the Magistrates ordered you to kill your crew, Amirah … would you?”

She made a disgusted sound. “They wouldn’t. And what does that have to do—”

“Wouldn’t they?
If your crew were composed of Gamants, Amirah? They might. Yet Gamants are technically citizens of the government, too. Would you obey that order?”

She blinked suddenly, as though he’d slapped her. “No,” she whispered.

“Really? So, there are times when betraying your government is good. Is that right? When the Magistrates give you an unjust order,
it’s your duty to the
people
to disobey it, correct?”

A bruised expression came over her face. “Let’s talk about something else. I—I was wrong … when I said you couldn’t betray one without betraying the other.”

Cole suddenly felt confused. Her beautiful face had taken on a taut, haunted look that he didn’t understand. What nerve had he touched that wounded her so deeply? But he had no ardor to push the discussion; it made him sick to his stomach. “All right, Amirah. We’ve explored my past. Let’s discuss yours. Tell me why you refused to grant Jason Woloc the transfer he requested? And don’t tell me you’re unaware of his feelings for you; I can see it on your face.”

She toyed with her empty glass, moving it erratically over the faded geometric designs in the rug. The fire crackled, spitting suddenly. In the burst of flames, Cole saw his shadow blend with Amirah’s on the far wall. Sparks whirled out of the hearth to flit over their heads.

“What do you know about Lieutenant Woloc?” she asked sharply.

“Not much. His official record—he’s quite an officer. You should be very proud of him.”

“What would make you think he has feelings—”

“Oh, for heavens sake, Amirah.” He waved an arm for emphasis. “I know crew psychology. Any officer who requests as many transfers as he has is hurting. He’s trying to escape a situation where he thinks he’s failing himself, his duty, or his captain. And the wording of his requests …” He cocked his head knowingly. “Those were written just for you, you know? His way of telling you his feelings without making any demands, his way of pleading with you to let him go before he embarrassed either of you.”

Her facial muscles tensed. “People get over—”

“No, they don’t. You’re not that naive. Unless you were trying to fool yourself? Were you? Did you want to keep him around to bolster your own ego?”

Her breast heaved with impotent rage and the look she fixed on him made him shift to guard his vitals. “I wouldn’t do that to him. I like Jason Woloc.”

“But you don’t love him.”

“That’s none of your business, Tahn.”

“You’re a curious one, Captain. I don’t understand you. You don’t love him, but you can’t let him go. Why the hell not? Can’t you admit to yourself that you love him? Too proud? Afraid he’s going to try and dominate you on the bridge?
What?”

She turned away to glare at the fire shadows crawling over the hearth walls and Cole grimaced dourly at himself. Why did he have to challenge her so ruthlessly on this subject? What was he doing? Punishing her for feelings about her second in command that he couldn’t come to grips with himself?
She’s wrong, you’re not an idiot. You’re a bastard.

“Tahn,” she said tautly, “is your strategy to use Jason’s feelings for me against me? To kill him and my ship?”

He met and held her gaze. “If I can.”

She tried to lift her glass but clumsily knocked it over. It thudded dully on the rug. Carefully, she regripped it. Her anguish was all too visibly revealed on her face.

Cole pushed to his feet and walked stiffly away to the opposite side of the room, where he slumped down against the red sandstone wall and folded his hands in his lap.

He watched her in silence for an hour, until she rolled into a fetal position on her side, buried her face in her dirty purple sleeve, and fell asleep. Her breathing had fallen into deep, rhythmic patterns. The glowing coals in the hearth cast ruby reflections over her wavy blonde hair which spread in a silken veil over the rug.

He vacillated, castigating himself, then decided he wouldn’t wake her to put EM restraints on her hands until he decided to sleep, too. In the meantime, he thought about Jeremiel and the fleet. They’d be very close to Horeb by now—if Rivka had survived to send word that Cole had achieved the first stage of their plan. But she must have. He could almost sense Baruch’s presence, like a looming tidal wave on the horizon. Silently, he prayed those Magisterial cruisers would fall for the trap they’d been endeavoring to set with Jossel’s capture.

She moaned as though hearing his silent meanderings and stretched out her bound legs.

Cole readjusted his shoulders against the wall and studied her. Her beautiful face had tensed, nostrils flaring with quick breaths. Dreaming. He gingerly pressed his fingers against his wound, testing the sensitivity. It felt better. Maybe he could sleep. If he could find a position that didn’t. …

Jossel sat bolt upright. Cole jumped but didn’t rise. Her turquoise eyes had a glazed look of abject terror, as though she were staring at demons crawling out of the depths of the pit of darkness.

“No. Don’t. …” she murmured and began sliding backward as quickly as her ankle restraints would allow, knocking over her dinner goblet and thrashing through the mound of empty food containers.

“Amirah?” He got to his feet and walked cautiously toward her.

She didn’t seem to see him at all. She screamed and flopped on her stomach, using her elbows to haul herself swiftly toward the door.

Cole pulled his pistol but hadn’t the slightest idea what to do with it. She was clearly asleep. Or experiencing something much worse. Her facial expression hinted at the latter—too much terror, too real. Delusion? Flashback?

‘Wo,
Grandmama, no!”
she wept in a child’s voice, soft, so pathetic it made Cole hurt deep down.
“Hurry! We have to hurry! It’s coming! … It’s almost here! … What does that mean, ‘nahash’? I don’t know what a holy serpent is, Grandmama! What is it?”

Her next scream sent a jolt like electricity through Cole. He ran headlong for her. She seemed to be trying to fend off some unseen creature. She lashed out with her fists and feet, all the while sobbing insanely and staring wide-eyed at nothing.

He knelt ten feet from her. In a soft, unthreatening voice, he said, “Amirah? Amirah, wake up. I don’t know where you think you are, but you’re not there. You’re on Horeb. You hear me? You’re on Horeb with Cole Tahn. Wake up, Captain. Everything is all right. You’re in no danger … for the most part.” He felt compelled to add that last. He kept talking, trying to bring her out of it as gently as he could.

Jossel’s wrenching sobs turned into muted little girl cries that sounded like a mewing kitten. Cole shook his head. Had she regressed in her dreams to an earlier time? What terrible thing had happened to her, he wondered?

“It’s all right, Amirah. Don’t worry. You’re not in any immediate danger. You got that? You’re twenty-nine and doing fine. You’re currently the most respected captain in the entire Magisterial fleet.” Her muscles started to relax, long legs sagging firmly against the floor. “That’s it, Amirah. Come out of it. You’re healthy and safe. You’re—”

“Hardly … safe, Tahn,” she said weakly. She lifted her dirty purple sleeve and wiped the tears that streaked her face. Wet blond strands of hair had glued themselves to her temples and chin. “Thanks … now get the hell away from me.”

“My, you’re gracious. What was that all about?”

“Just a bad dream.”

“Didn’t look like a dream. It looked like a delusion. Had it before?”

She fixed him with her old predatory gaze that let him know she was indeed feeling better. “Why would that concern you?”

“I just wanted to know if I should expect similar conduct in the future. And I have other reasons.”
Good ones, Captain. You just exhibited a brand of delusional behavior that I’m very familiar with. Too damned familiar. After bad battles, my dreams still creep with things that go bump in the night.

Jossel sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. “I’ve had it before. Why don’t you help me out and tell me what I said.”

His eyes narrowed speculatively. She was inquiring in earnest. “You don’t remember?”

“Sometimes I do. Sometimes I just get parts. Almost always the same parts.” She let out a shuddering breath and blinked away the final tears in her eyes.

Cole judiciously lowered himself to the floor to sit cross-legged facing her. “Well, the most interesting part of the event was the sound of your voice. You seemed young, ten or twelve, maybe. You were talking to someone you called ‘Grandmama.’ You told her you didn’t understand what ‘nahash,’ or the holy serpent was. Then you seemed to be struggling bodily with something or someone. I didn’t know which. Most of the other things you said were just exclamations of fear.” He frowned thoughtfully at her. “You understand any of that now that you’re awake?”

She twisted her hands in her lap. “No. None of it.”

“How often does this happen?”

Amirah wet her lips and in the marmalade light of the fire, Cole saw her mouth tremble. She shook her head and meditatively whispered, “Nahash, holy serpent …
don’t be a pawn.
…” Her voice faded.

“Another phrase from the delusion? Do these events only hit you after battles? Or at other times?”

She lifted her head and gazed at him with a penetrating intensity. “You’re not exactly my type of confidant, Tahn. You don’t mind, do you?”

He lifted his hands apologetically and got to his feet. Backing away, he pulled the EM restraints from his pocket. “I don’t mind. Not if you don’t mind that I need to bind your wrists to your ankles and attach both to the wall by the fireplace so I can get some badly needed sleep.”

Amirah sighed and awkwardly scooted on her fanny back toward the fireplace. “You force me to do some very undignified things, Tahn,” she commented. She stopped by the old iron ring that extended from the wall. Fireplace utensils had undoubtedly graced it originally, but now it stood empty.

Cole grinned wryly. “Please turn around and extend your hands, Captain.”

CHAPTER 19

Rachel lifted a hand to shield her eyes against the brilliant glare of the noonday sun. She stood high atop a tan ridge overlooking a bustling community of white-robed men. They scurried like ants far below, chanting sacred songs as they worked. Fear charged her body.
Playing God
….

“I know what I’m doing, Aktariel.”

She fought back an overwhelming sense of desperation as she gazed down upon the chanting holy men. They seemed ethereal amid the rising waves of heat that blanketed the land.

“No,” she murmured to herself. “The time is wrong. Maybe later.”

She lifted her hand and a black whirlwind spun out of nothingness. She slipped from one void to another, skillfully covering her trail. But her heart withered under the knowledge that no matter how good she’d become at manipulating the interfaces, she’d never be better than
he
was.

She hurried, stepping in and out, backward and forward in time, until she almost lost her way amid the multiple planes of darkness and light.

Jason Woloc sat tensely in the command chair aboard the
Sargonid,
eyes focused on the huge forward screen where Horeb rotated like a gleaming orange ball, two-thirds light, one-third dark. A medium-sized man with a round face, large hazel eyes, and a crooked nose, Woloc had closely-cropped honey blond hair. His purple uniform stretched over his muscular chest, revealing the breadth of his shoulders and the trimness of his waist.

The bridge was forebodingly quiet around him. Amirah’s message had left them all teetering between rage and terror. Especially him. Twice in the past hour, he’d been on the verge of grabbing a fighter and flying hellbent to search for her himself.

He sucked in a breath and forced his mind to concentrate on the bridge. The oval room was composed of two levels and eight officers staffed the consoles. The captain’s chair with its massive array of controls and com links occupied the upper level. Below him, officers sat in twos at the four niches that adorned the perimeter of the oval. Thirty screens ran in a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree ring above them. At a glance, he could determine the status of any section of the ship. He noted absently that the second level mess hall was still undergoing repairs.

“Sir?” Orah Pirke, his redheaded navigation officer, called. His high cheekbones and dimpled chin gleamed with a sheen of perspiration. “I’ve got Engineer Rad on com. He says they’ve tied down the general origin point of the captain’s message.”

“Put him on.”

“Aye, sir. Screen four.”

Jason swiveled his chair around, gazing hard at the mini-screen on the wall to his right. Rad’s face formed. His flat features looked pale beneath the harsh lights of Engineering. Short black hair covered his head like a five-day stubble of beard.

“Where, Rad?”

“We’ve gotten mixed signals, sir. There seem to be three possible origin points: Horeb, the planet Sinai, and the asteroid belt that hovers between the tenth and eleventh planets. Sinai seems the most likely.”

Jason caressed his smooth chin. A soft anxious murmuring had broken out among his bridge officers. The world of Sinai was a poisonous gas mote, holed like Swiss cheese. “Are you certain, Rad?”

The engineer nodded firmly. “Aye, sir.”

“Did you get a precise fix on the point of Sinai?”

“Negative. The cracks and cavities of that ball of dust make it impossible to tell. If they’re holding her deep inside, the message could have bounced a thousand times before it escaped.”

“Any word on the ransom yet?”

“Negative.”

His stomach felt as though a hundred scorpions were spiking him with their stinging tails. “All right, Rad. Thanks. Keep me informed. Woloc out.”

He cut the link and stared speculatively at his bridge officers. “Well, what do you think?”

Pirke swung around in his chair and lifted a shoulder. His red hair gleamed with a brassy tinge. “Sinai’s a perfect hiding place. If she’s there, it’ll take hours of probing with our best equipment to find her.”

Gever Hadash, the com officer, massaged her lean weasellike face and shook her head. Long brown hair cascaded over her shoulders. “I think it’s a ruse, sir.” Her green eyes sparkled calculatingly. A small hand-held distortion device would have been enough to confuse the signal. How could they have gotten off Horeb?”

Jason frowned at the forward screen. His thoughts ran rampant, trying to decipher the conflicting possibilities. “What about that fighter the
Hammadi
destroyed? Could it—”

“Negative,” Pirke declared, shaking his head with certainty. “It never landed.”

“But,” Hadash pointed out, “the fighter could have been a diversion to draw our attention away from a tiny vessel slipping away from the other side of the planet.”

Jason’s pulse started to race. “How could such a ship escape the scanners of five cruisers?”

“Unknown,” Hadash granted with a shrug. “But if we were bunched at the time, it could have.”

“Run a check on the locations of every Magisterial vessel during the two hour interim between when Governor Ornias found the bodies of Richert and Tolemy and the time we received the captain’s message.”

“Aye, sir.” Pirke began inputting the request.

In the meantime, Hadash eyed him severely. Her lean face seemed even more feral when she concentrated like that. “You realize, of course, that it’ll take two cruisers to adequately search the nooks and crannies of Sinai. Three would be better. Even then, it’ll take hours.”

“Approximately how many?” Jason asked.

Hadash guessed, “With two cruisers? Four or five, at least.”

“And with three cruisers?”

“Maybe two hours.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to work out some of the knots in the muscles. A tension headache pounded behind his eyes. “Well,” he began, but stopped when Pirke whirled back around in his chair, eyes narrowed. “What?”

“At approximately sixteen hundred hours, when that fighter dove between us and the
Marburg,
a narrow opening existed on the other side of the planet that aimed directly at Sinai. Gever’s right. A small ship could have escaped.”

Jason leaned forward pensively. “Hadash, get me Captains Williamson and Stein. Two cruisers searching Sinai will …”

The com aura snapped on in a golden halo around Hadash’s head. Her eyes went vacant, staring at the ceiling. Jason waited. After a few seconds, she swiveled around in her chair.

“Governor Ornias requests visual with you, sir.”

“Put him on. Let’s get this over with.”

The governor’s tanned face formed, a smug smile curling his lips. His sandy hair gleamed with a saffron tinge from some hidden light source. Dressed regally in a virid-ian silk robe shot through with silver threads, he stood in his council chambers. Pink marble columns framed his image.

“Good evening, Lieutenant Woloc.”

“Good evening, Governor. I assume you have not apprehended Calas yet?”

Ornias grimaced. “Indeed? Well, you’re
wrong.
I have both Calas and his wife. Sybil Calas is severely injured. I’m sure with your superior equipment you can have her walking and healthy in two or three days. When may we transport them?”

Jason’s jaw went hard. The Magistrates had ordered the
Sargonid
to return to Palaia the instant they’d apprehended Calas. The orders had a Priority One rating, which meant no other emergency could supersede them.

“Regarding Calas’ wife, Governor, can you sustain her for six hours?”

Ornias lifted a brow. “I thought the Magistrates were in a hurry, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, Governor, that is correct. However, the kidnapping of our captain has added a twist to this—”

“I’m well aware of your problems, Lieutenant Woloc. However, you must understand that every instant I hold Calas in my palace, the tensions on Horeb rise. His fragmented band of brigands is certainly planning a rescue attempt. I won’t be held responsible if they succeed.”

Ornias paced gracefully around his magnificent chamber, casting evil looks at Jason. The gold filigree outlining the frescoed dome gleamed with a fiery radiance over the governor’s head. Something about the manicured primness of the man affected Jason like a foul stench in his nostrils.

“I understand, Governor. However, if you could sustain Ms. Calas for a few hours, it would give us the chance to—”

“Perhaps we don’t understand each other, Lieutenant,” Ornias said tautly. “Mikael and Sybil Calas are now
your
responsibility. Why can’t you take them aboard and then search for your captain?”

Jason’s fingers tightened over his chair arms. There’d be no point in telling this pompous military appointee that orders obliged him to leave as soon as Calas set foot aboard the
Sargonid.

“Please ready Calas and his wife for transport, Governor. We’ll reroute one of our supply shuttles to pick them up.”

Ornias gave him an oily smile. “They’ll be ready.”

The screen went dead.

Jason ground his teeth. His officers stared at him questioningly.
Oh, Amirah, forgive me.

“Pirke,” he ordered. “Set course for Palaia. Hadash, contact Williamson and Stein. I’m certain they’ll carry out the search for Captain Jossel with the same diligence we would.”

“But, sir!” Pirke objected.

Jason lifted a hand. “We’ve no choice, Lieutenant. Hadash, go on.”

“Aye, sir,” Gever whispered forlornly as she swung back around to her console.

Jason watched Pirke’s fingers inputting the course to Palaia and sank back in Amirah’s command chair. He could feel the gentle contours of her feminine body imprinted in the petrolon cushions. They molded around him, slightly different from his own, as though her body pressed warmly against his.

He clamped his jaw against the pang of desperation that struck him,

Yosef wiped clammy palms on his camo jumpsuit and peeked around the edge of a crate marked, “Inert.” Ari slumped in the shadows on the ground behind him. In the past two hours, Ornias had tightened the security on the loading dock until they could barely breathe. They’d sneaked in when several of the guards had run to gaze out at the sudden din surrounding the palace. But they’d come back. Planetary marines in gray uniforms swarmed all over now, rushing through the maze of crates and supplies that crowded the landing field. Misty rain drenched the red ridges, shimmering like liquid wax on the marble columns of the palace. Four Magisterial vessels surrounded the magnificent rectangular structure.

Yosef turned around. “Ari, those ships are still there. What do you think they’re doing?”

Ari blinked owlishly. His gray mop of hair stuck out at odd angles, frizzing in the rain. “What ships?”

“Name of God!” Yosef hissed in irritation, pointing at the palace. “You looked at them ten minutes ago. Do we need to jump start your brain cells again?”

Ari shoved to his feet and hobbled forward. The pack of books he carried on his back made him look like a hunchback. His brown suit had mud clinging in lumps to the legs. He peered intently through the veils of mist. “Oh, those ships.” He sighed gruffly and started to hobble back to his place.

Yosef grabbed Ari’s arm and swung him around.
“Why
do you think they’re there?”

“It probably has something to do with that missing captain.”

“What missing captain?”

“Jossel, or whatever her name was, from the
Sargonid.”

“Where did you hear that?”

Ari waved a hand dismissively. “From that stupid loading dock worker who was slithering around earlier. He was whispering to his companion about it. I …” Ari drifted off, eyes going vacant. He grimaced and massaged his butt, frowning as though deep in thought. “Do you know,” he asked indignantly, “that my tailbone hasn’t hurt this much since Agnes wanted to try that twisted Kama Sutra position back in—”

“Oh, for God’s sake! What did that stupid worker say about Jossel?”

“What worker? Oh … Oh, nothing much. Just that she’d been captured by a terrorist force here on Horeb.”

Yosef eyed Ari askance and reflectively played with the folds of skin hanging slackly ever his throat. “There are no terrorist forces here. Unless you call Mikael’s rebels terrorists. Do you think maybe Jehu or Sammy escaped the chambers?”

“No. Those planetary marines rounded up everybody important.”

Yosef nodded. He and Ari had witnessed the forced evacuation. They’d hidden in the rocks outside the chambers and watched the ship that came to pick up Mikael and Sybil, then they’d slipped off to join the refugees rushing into small ships to flee. Except they’d headed their ship for the spiny ridges that surrounded the palace. Yosef’s knees still ached from climbing through the rocks.

He leaned a little farther out from behind his crate and surveyed the dock again. Some sort of shift change was in progress. Marines scurried back and forth, muttering obscenities, whispering behind their hands as they scrutinized the Magisterial soldiers in purple uniforms who roamed the interlocking rows of supply stacks.