Treasure of Light (The Light Trilogy) (6 page)

“Ryngold,” Morcon ordered. “Hang back. Run the final check.”

“Aye, Sam.” He faded back to stand by the security com on the wall.

Tahn hit the button to open the doors to the landing bay foyer. Lieutenant Halloway and the security team followed. Jamie tried to ease his anxiety by letting his gaze drift admiringly over Halloway. A tall woman with shoulder-length auburn hair, she had pale translucent skin and blazing green eyes. No man aboard had ever been able to approach her. Cool and tough, she kept to herself for the most part, shunning parties and rarely appearing in any of the lavish lounges on the ship. But everybody admired her from afar.

Jamie brought his attention back, accessing the bay monitor and keying in a level one alert on deck nineteen. The alarm panel above him flashed blue in silent rhythmic pulses, changing the stark white walls to pale azure. He could see the empty landing pad, Mike Fritz manning the control console.

“Sergeant?” Tahn inquired tersely of Fritz. “What’s the status of the shuttle?”

“Simons reports he has Baruch in custody. No problems. ETA is two minutes, sir.”

Tahn’s face paled visibly as though he waged a violent battle with himself. He looked like he’d clenched his fists to keep them from shaking under the tension. Finally, Tahn pulled in a deep breath and ordered, “Notify the bridge to commence Prime Mover One.”

“Aye, sir.”

Jamie closed his eyes a moment, bracing himself. The ship lurched slightly as violet beams lanced out, blasting the surface of Horeb. He glanced at the close-range planetary monitor. Three hundred miles below, he could see a huge crimson wave rise from the melted sandstone ridges, rolling toward the capital city of Seir—a sea of blood to drown Gamant inequities. Damn them all, anyway. The
Hoyer
had been forced to initiate a level two scorch attack against Kayan less than a week ago. Gamants were all insane. They’d wantonly broken the Treaty of Lysomia, attacking Magisterial military installations, killing hundreds of soldiers. Horeb had compounded the sins by flaring into civil war and hiding a Magisterial criminal. They had to be heroes, protecting one of their own. Baruch ranked number one on the government’s hit list, and they knew it. Even though a Gamant Councilman had betrayed and turned Baruch over in the end, the Magistrates didn’t tolerate disobedience very well.

“Oh.” He heard Halloway whisper emptily to herself as she turned away from the planetary monitor.

Jamie felt the soft reverberations through the ship like widening rings across an enormous pool of black. He could almost hear the screams of the thousands. It made him ache a little, but he quickly dismissed it. Horebians had brought it on themselves. Obeying orders, that’s what the
Hoyer
was doing, just keeping peace in the galaxy.

“Shuttle docked, sir,” Fritz acknowledged. “Simons reports all clear.”

Tahn swallowed convulsively. “Open the doors.”

The foyer emptied as people flooded into the broad white-tiled bay. The ceiling stretched seventy feet high.

In an abrupt movement that made Jamie stiffen, Tahn whirled, eyes scanning the bay as he dropped into a combat crouch.

“What the hell…” Jamie whispered nervously to himself. His monitor showed nothing! Simultaneously, the communications light on his console flared. He cursed at it and struck the key, demanding the origin point. “Level five lounge? Damn it! Can’t you guys wait another ten minutes to know for sure that we’ve got Baruch?” Jamie put the com request on hold.

Halloway’s hand dropped to the butt of her holstered pistol as she carefully scanned the bay. To Tahn she whispered, “What is it?”

He shook his head. “Nothing … I—I thought I saw a shadow. Something black … moving over the walls. I’m just skittish, I guess.”

Blood drained from Jamie’s face until he felt lightheaded.
A shadow?

“Materialized guilt,” Halloway murmured.

Tahn heaved a disgusted breath. “Remind me to prosecute you for insubordination.”

“Aye, sir,” she responded curtly, but her eyes still searched the wall.

Jamie forced his gaze to the newly arrived shuttle.
Forget it! You don’t have time to worry about your imagination or anybody else’s.
The com light flashed urgently now, changing from blue to red, demanding attention. The shuttle sat like an ebony spear point on the floor. After a short time, the side doors parted and a man fitting Baruch’s description stepped out. Tall and muscular, his hands were bound behind his back. Blond hair clung to his chiseled face in damp curls, but his blue eyes gleamed like fiery sapphires. He looked haggard, desperate. Did he know what the Magistrates had in mind for him? That he’d be a living vegetable in less than two weeks? Four more men stepped out behind Baruch, dressed in the purple and gray of security personnel. Simons prodded Baruch in the back with his rifle to make him walk.

Jamie ran a check of the shuttle. No more life-forms. He exhaled in relief and briefly propped his forehead against the cool petrolon hull.
No Trojan Horse Move, thank God.
He struck the button on the security com. “All is well. Stand down from level one alert. Go to three.”

The blue alert panel stopped flashing and the walls returned to their whiter than white hue. Jamie pulled the syringe and checked the fluid level again. He tucked it in one of the outer fabric shells of his waist pack, within easy reach. Unslinging his rifle, he trotted out into the bay to stand behind Morcon. Tahn paced beside him, clenching and unclenching his fists.

Baruch started walking and the tension in the room felt as concrete as a brick wall. He came to a halt no more than three feet in front of the captain. Stiffly, he greeted, “Tahn.”

“I keep my promises, Baruch. You’ll be well-treated.”

“You’re a butcher. Have you initiated the scorch attack yet? How many babies do you think you’ve already killed?”

For the briefest of moments, Jamie felt time stop, as though they all hung suspended over a chasm of dark swirling nothingness. Then … the ship lunged sideways, g-force making them all stagger.

“Cole!
Look out!
” Halloway screamed.

Jamie had just gotten his feet under him when he saw Baruch’s hands flash from behind his back and he slammed Tahn in the temple with the butt of a pistol.

Shrill whines erupted, rifle fire bursting from everywhere. Men all around Jamie slumped to the floor in bloody heaps. He dove, rolling to come up with his rifle aimed at Baruch’s broad back when a blinding flare of violet slashed his legs. He toppled forward, screaming, writhing, trying to reach for his rifle which had clattered away across the floor. A spread of crimson widened around his body; he looked down to find his legs severed just below the hips. Shock and terror overwhelmed him.

“Harper, GO!” Baruch shouted and threw himself on Tahn, kicking and repeatedly bashing the captain’s head with his gun.

The three shuttle officers dressed in
Hoyer
uniforms sprinted into a transport tube and disappeared. Impostors. His fault! Jamie tried to drag himself to his rifle, but he felt so weak, so very weak. What the hell had the lurch been? It felt like the very fabric of space heaved. Phase-change? Stunned, his eyes riveted on Halloway, she lifted her pistol, trying desperately to get a clear shot at Baruch, but he and Tahn were twined so tightly, she had no chance. Finally, she aimed at the floor and fired. The diversion shot flashed around the bay, whining like a shrieking banshee.

Baruch lunged to his feet, dodging into the tube before Halloway could get off another shot.

“Someone’ll stop them,” Jamie murmured to himself. But… but if they headed directly for Engineering, they’d have the element of complete surprise on their side.
Impossible!
Four men couldn’t take a battle cruiser! No! Oh, dear God, no! Why had he given the order to stand down! But there’d been no negative indications. How could he have known Baruch would try something so insane?

Jamie saw Tahn crawl weakly to his knees. Nausea overwhelmed the captain and he vomited repeatedly onto the white tiles. Halloway gripped Tahn by the arm and pulled him to his feet.

“Lean on me. Cole?
Cole!
We’ve got to get out of here!”

Tahn seemed disoriented, unable to focus his eyes. Concussion? He reeled in her arms as Halloway supported him across the bay and through a side entry that led to Defense.

Jamie lay still, staring blindly at the mangled corpses surrounding him on all sides. Morcon had been cut in half by the beams. Jamie blinked. A gray haze fluttered around the edges of his vision. He worked his leaden fingers in the copper-scented pool of blood that shot in jets from his femoral arteries. With the slow deliberateness of an assassin, blackness closed in, and he felt cold, so cold….

His consciousness waned just as the First Alert sirens wailed through the bay.

CHAPTER 4

Harper braced himself in the tube, breathing hard, adrenaline searing his veins. Jeremiel had said they’d have no more than thirty seconds maximum. Dear God, he prayed Baruch was still alive. He had a baseline competency in the systems, but he’d never be able to handle this massive twenty-level cruiser without Jeremiel. He stared at Uriah, a skinny youth with black hair, then at Janowitz, short and stocky and platinum blond.

“You know the plan,” Harper said. “Full-scale attack. No prisoners.”

Janowitz’s eyes glowed. “We’re ready.”

The tube door snicked open and they lurched into the corridor, panning it with their rifles. Shrill whines erupted as purple beams lanced out. Four Magisterial crew members fell dead before they knew what had happened.

Harper led the charge, racing down the hall toward the double doors that led into Engineering. Jeremiel had explained that all C-J class cruisers had the same design. Engineering was a tri-level round chamber manned at any given time by about twenty people. Duty stations perched like wire birds’ nests on each level—making it damned easy shooting if you surprised the crew from below.

He burst through the doors, lifted his rifle, and took the top level. Janowitz and Uriah braced themselves behind him, taking the floor and second levels. Men and women screamed and struggled to get up to run. A few grabbed for guns as purple arcs sliced off arms and legs.

“Throw down your weapons!”
Harper demanded, and kept firing.

A cascade of pistols and rifles clattered on the floor. The dead hung from their wire duty cages, mouths agape, eyes wide with shock. Starbursts of crimson splashed the white walls, running in streaks and bars to pool on the floor. Several members of the crew had escaped. Only one man, a red-haired lieutenant, still remained. He’d been trapped in the square niche of blocky white consoles that controlled the entire ship.

“Janowitz, Uriah, go check the adjacent corridors. Clear them. Use whatever force is necessary.”

“Aye, Harper.”

Both men raced to the exit that most of the crew had escaped through. Harper watched them disappear, then whirled when he caught a glimpse of his remaining prisoner reaching for the nearest console. He leveled his rifle.

“Get away from those controls, mister.”

“Who—who are you?” the lieutenant shouted shakily. “You can’t just walk in here and—” He lunged for the console, fingers groping.

Harper’s shot took him squarely in the chest, bursting it wide. Blood and bits of bone shredded the air as the enemy soldier slumped face-first over the console. Sporadic gunfire continued in the corridors outside. Harper prayed Janowitz and Uriah were doing the firing.

He spun when he heard the pounding of feet. Jeremiel raced into Engineering, his black battlesuit spattered with blood. Baruch took in the room and immediately headed for the console beside Harper. His fingers flew, inputting data.

Harper watched words come up on the screen:
CANNOT DISCONNECT EMERGENCY BAFFLES WITHOUT PROPER AUTHORIZATION CODE. PLEASE INPUT.

The emergency baffles, Harper knew, kicked in the instant any section experienced decompression, sealing off the rest of the ship and protecting the crew. To Harper’s amazement, Jeremiel keyed in a lengthy sequence and waited pensively.

UNACCEPTABLE CODE.

Jeremiel input a new sequence. He tried six before the com responded:
CODE ACCEPTED. BAFFLES DISCONNECTED.

The Underground must have had spies in all the right places. Baruch struck a different series of patches, wetting his lips nervously.

The doors to Engineering snapped closed and the alert sirens ceased. Harper asked, “What are you doing?”

“Rerouting control of the ship. Sealing off this section, level seven, and the bridge and decompressing every other level.”

In a sudden wash of understanding, Harper sucked in a breath. The emergency baffles? When Jeremiel opened the locks, every unsealed portion of the ship would be swept clean as the oxygen rushed out into the vacuum of space. Anyone standing in those corridors …. “You’re … you’re going to kill thousands of people?”

“You want them in here with us?”

The desperate tone struck Harper like a fist in the stomach. He sank down into a chair. “No.”

Dannon lunged for the nearest transport tube, wondering how long he had? The sirens shredded his composure. Obviously, Jeremiel had made some move. Neil’s guards in the lounge had released him the instant the klaxons wailed.
It’s too late now to go anywhere but the bridge.
If Baruch had initiated Operation Abba, he’d first create a diversion so his team could get out of the bay and into a transport tube. They’d be at level twenty in exactly fifteen seconds if they’d worked it right. And Engineering would be lost. The very structure of the section left it open to such a devastating attack. The crew couldn’t move fast enough to get out of the way. They’d be sitting ducks for soldiers with rifles. Already he could picture the slaughter, people hanging from their cages, blood spattering the white walls.