Treasure of Light (The Light Trilogy) (65 page)

“What the
hell’s
going on here?” Tahn demanded in a low savage voice. He clenched his hands into shaking fists.

One of the men gave him an imperious look, a slow smile creeping over his face. “We’re conducting experiments on Gamant fertilization,” he announced, laughing. “Want to help? Come on, we’ll give you a chance, too.” He brutally shoved the child into Tahn’s arms.

Cole caught her. Her young skin felt soft and clammy beneath his fingers. Stringy brown hair draped down over the girl’s narrow chest. She seemed as frail and transparent as a blade of grass. She looked up at him pleadingly and he couldn’t move—his muscles had gone rigid. She had the face of a Renaissance angel, sad, eyes wide and afflicted.

From behind, he heard Baruch’s irrationally calm voice say, “Captain, we need to see what Major Lichtner considers important.
Captain … let’s go.”

Seconds later, Baruch gripped him by the arm and pulled him away. Stunned, Tahn released the girl and allowed himself to be guided quickly across the parade ground. The raucous laughter began again and his very soul withered to dust. Ahead, he caught sight of Lichtner’s back.

“I can’t believe …” he began.

“Can’t you?” Baruch whispered. “The Magistrates did a similar thing on Jumes before you were ordered to scorch it.”

Tahn stopped, roughly shaking off Baruch’s hand. He glared in rage. “Don’t give me that goddamned bullshit! I know—”

“Do you? Did you review the clandestine files? Maybe we’ll
both
go review them when we get back to the
Hoyer.
That way the facts can stand for themselves.”

Tahn’s breathing came in shallow gasps. Could it be true? He
hadn’t
checked the secret documents. Had the Magistrates established such programs on Jumes? Is that why the populace had revolted? And he’d…. His whole body cried out for him to leave this place, but he strode hastily forward, following in Lichtner’s path. Behind, he could hear Baruch’s resolutely quiet steps.

They had to sprint to catch up, rounding a corner which led out away from the compound. The photon shield cast a curiously filtered light, like the golden shadow of a veiled full moon. In the distance, Tahn could see a line of people standing before a ditch: naked, pitifully starved, hands bound behind their backs. Old women, young women, and little girls. A series of crisply uniformed soldiers stood on the opposite side of the ditch, rifles aimed.

Tahn shoved past Lichtner’s guards, running to grab the major’s arm and ruthlessly swing him around. “What is this?” he demanded with hushed fury.

Lichtner glared at his restraining hand, then smiled maliciously. “A routine elimination of useless subjects, Captain. The science team culls them out and we ensure they’re properly disposed of.”

“Disposed of?”

“Certainly. They’re of no use. Come, come, Captain. They’re just Gamants. You, of all people, know they’re subhuman beasts. Indeed, our experiments here prove it. Just wait until you read the reports on—”

The shrill sound of rifles discharging jarred Tahn, he whirled, heart pounding. Violet beams slashed relentlessly through the old women, bearing down toward the children. Some whimpered, most held their chins high, definantly staring death in the face.

“We’ve ordered our men to limit both the number and length of their shots to two, one-tenth second bursts for each victim,” Lichtner explained proudly. “And, yes, I know very well the Magistrates order five shots, but we don’t need to waste our energy resources on Gamants.”

Tahn jerked with each renewed blast, feeling the shots as if they slashed his own body. The high energy shots literally burst the atoms of the victims’ flesh. A fine mist of blood filled the air.
And from somewhere deep in his mind voices called, strained voices, tears in them, fear.
Jumbled images of Paris flashed, the Arc de Triumphe, the Pont Neuf…. From that part of his mind that had gone insane in self-defense, he felt tendrils rising up, thin wispy fingers grasping at him.
No! No, leave me alone! For God’s sake, leave me alone!

The soldiers kept firing into the women and children until the sandy soil ran red with blood. Like the wails from ancient banshees, Lichtner started screaming,
“Stop it! Stop! That’s too many shots! I said two! TWO! DAMN YOU ALL—STOP IT!”

The firing ceased and Lichtner stamped around, fuming, waving his arms violently, cursing his men. Even before the last moan faded, men with mechanical equipment approached from behind, bulldozing the dead into the ditch.

Tahn reeled on his feet. Another flash—the old pagan temple before the cathedral of Notre Dame, sunken. The dead eyes of hundreds stared out at him where he lay huddled on his side in his cage.

“No …” he murmured through gritted teeth, struggling to keep his mind blank—
blank! Keep it blank! Yes … yes, that’s it… blank … blank
… He started to feel blessedly numb, like a sleepwalker running silently through a nightmare that seemed to have no beginning or end.

He inhaled unsteadily and his gaze landed on the bloodied corpse of a two- or three-year-old girl; she kicked one last time, body shuddering as a dozer shoved her into the ditch.

And … from somewhere far away and long ago the sound of insidious alien laughter wafted—creeping from a dark door he thought he’d managed to rebolt. On the other side of the ditch, the ruby-eyed demon appeared; it smiled and lifted a hand, beckoning him across. When he didn’t move, the beast laughed, a hideous laugh that echoed thunderously. “
Welcome to Moriah, Tahn.”

“Captain,” he heard Baruch say softly from beside him, too softly for anyone else to hear. “We’d like to see the rest of the compound. Tell Lichtner.”

Tahn shook his head. “No. No, I can’t. I don’t—”

“Yes, you do. We have to know the full story here. Do it!”

Tahn swallowed convulsively and gave Baruch a desperate glance. The demon faded into nothingness. Cole clenched his jaw so tightly his head shook. Where had it gone? What the hell was Moriah?

“Tahn,” Baruch whispered insistently. “Tell Lichtner.”

Cole shook his head. How could Baruch take this so calmly? Had he lost his mind? These were his people, for God’s sake, dying for nothing. Nothing! Then it occurred to Cole that perhaps Baruch could take it because he’d seen it so often, because he’d had to learn to steel himself against this stunning feeling of violation and despair. For an eternity, he stared into those hard blue eyes.

“Lichtner,” Tahn said coolly, “we don’t have all night. We’d like to see the scientific facilities.”

Lichtner’s lip curled. “Very well, Captain, but they’re nowhere near as entertaining.” Pivoting on his heel, Lichtner signaled his men to follow and they marched off toward a far building. Tahn and Baruch followed.

Outside, a crowd of perhaps fifty stood. Men and boys, they held hats and coats in their hands. Magisterial officers in clean, crisply pressed uniforms shouted at them: “You filthy Gamant swine, move!” “Stop!” “Don’t look me in the eye or I’ll kill you right now!” “Go on, get out of here!” “Run! Run! Run! To the registration booths over there! Hurry it up!”

Lichtner turned, briefly explaining, “These are new subjects. We just shipped them in today from Derow.” Haughtily, Lichtner and his guards strode away, leaving Tahn and Baruch alone.

The crowd ran obediently, passing by Tahn. One little boy staggered toward the end, sobbing, tears streaking his dirty face. Dressed in brown rags, he lifted a weak hand. “Where’s my daddy? Do you know where my daddy is? Please, let me stay with my dad? Where is he?”

Tahn started to kneel, to talk to the child, but Baruch shoved him out of the way and knelt himself. In a bare whisper, Baruch said something in Gamant. The boy’s mouth dropped open slightly and a small flame grew in his eyes. He reached out and took Baruch’s hand, kissing it, wiping his tears on the big callused palm, murmuring soft sobbing words. Then he quickly turned and forced his trembling legs to run. He caught up with the group before they entered the booths.

As they followed Lichtner, Tahn whispered, “What did you tell the boy?”

“I told him to stay strong, not to lose heart, that the Underground was on the way to free him.”

“You lied to him?”

Baruch gazed at him hard. “Maybe. Doesn’t matter. Every extra breath he gets into his lungs helps defeat you and yours, Captain.”

The words seared Tahn’s soul. Baruch marched forward, leaving him to follow into the facility; it smelled dank with the odors of petrolon and mildew. Stark white walls extended fifty feet high, enclosing a building that must have covered ten acres. Crates littered the floor, stacked fifteen feet high in places. They maneuvered around them, winding down narrow walkways.

“Captain,” Lichtner cast over his shoulder. “We are about to enter a surgical wing. Research here centers around disrupting the reward-generating system of the brain. I don’t really understand it. You’ll have to talk to one of our physicians when they come on duty in two hours. If you like, I’ll arrange a special tour for you.”

“Yes, do that. I want to talk to somebody who knows something.”

Lichtner’s thin mouth pursed tightly in anger. Guards flowed around them, heading for a door ahead. They opened it and Tahn nearly choked; scents of stale sweat and urine flooded over him like a foul tidal wave.

Lichtner led the way inside, briskly outdistancing everyone as if anxious to have this over and done with. They walked down a long white corridor and out into a large room.

When Tahn entered the room, his steps faltered, heart pounding so violently he thought it would burst through his ribs. People crouched in light cages down the length of both walls, huddling against the bright golden bars, staring at him through haunted eyes. He took a step backward.

“Major?” Baruch asked unemotionally. “Do you know what types of surgical operations are being performed?”

“Oh,” Lichtner waved a hand irritably, “it seems to me that I remember one of our biologists saying that when lesions are made in particular parts of the temporal lobes, it affects the reward system. That’s all I know.”

“What sorts of conclusions are these experiments leading to?”

As Lichtner walked on, he cast over his shoulder, “Apparently Gamants have peculiar arousal systems that cause them to be aggressive. You know, Lieutenant, that irrational fear of peace they have? They’re always fighting. If they can’t slit our throats, they’ll slit their own just to release their aggressions.”

“That’s a Gamant for you,” Baruch stated calmly.

They rounded a corner into a new section of cages and Tahn caught his breath. Involuntarily a shudder took his body. A woman with long blonde hair lay on her side in one cage, wavy tresses spreading like a rippling blanket over her face and naked torso. A trickle of blood flowed out of her cage, spreading across the floor, soaking the stones

“Cole? Oh, Cole … forgive me….
”

Rifle fire. Mortar blasts. The sound of weeds rustling, rustling in the cold winds. The sky changed to a sickly mustard color—and Cole’s soul became a long soundless cry.

He whirled. The broken cathedral stood like a huge gaping mouth in the distance. “For God’s sake, Williston,” he whispered. “They’re coming fast. Get out of here. Go!”

Williston grabbed him roughly by the arms as he tried to run. “Tahn? Are you all right?”

Hard blue eyes looked into his. “Daryl! Get the hell out of here! I gave you a direct order. What do you think you’re doing? Go! Go!”

He struggled against iron arms, fear swelling to smother him. The shrill whine of discharging cannons split the day and Tahn spun. Grabbing Williston, he hurled him to the ground, trying to cover his friend with his own body. “Stay down, Daryl. Down!”

Jagged screams. Dirt raining over on them. Williston shoved out from beneath him, glaring into his face, eyes wide with disbelief. Another explosion.

Tahn screamed and slammed a fist into Daryl’s shoulder, then crawled madly for the trenches. The vile odors of ionized air and blood strangled him. A moment later, Williston gripped his arm tightly, pulling him sideways. They struggled wildly against each other, rolling across the floor. For a split second, Tahn felt cold petrolon against his fingers. He reached down and grasped the pistol from Daryl’s belt holster and leveled it at the oncoming wave of Pegasan invaders. Williston slapped it out of his hand, knocking it across the ground.

“Daryl, goddamn it, can’t you see what’s happening? They’re going to kill us, man. Run!”

“Tahn, listen to me.” Daryl’s voice had gone so gentle, so quiet, it did not seem his at all. The hard hands on his arms loosened. “You’re not on Earth. You’re on Tikkun. The year is 5414. You listening to me?
The year is 5414.”

Tahn shook his head, hearing the words, but barely understanding them. Shadows seemed to loom behind Daryl, moving, whispering, one voice—insidiously gloating—stabbed at him like a bright shining sword.

“Tahn,” Daryl said softly. “It’s all right. You’re all right. You understand me? You’re not on Earth.”

Cole stopped writhing and lay panting, gazing up into sharp blue eyes filled now with something he didn’t understand—some touch of reluctant camaraderie. And in a sudden, shocking moment, he realized whose arms pinned him to the floor. “Baruch….” he whispered, shaking his head. “What… what happened?”