Treasure of Light (The Light Trilogy) (73 page)

Rachel glanced at Tahn. He straightened to his full height, tall, commanding. His blue-violet eyes looked ravaged. Her gaze slid back to Lichtner. He, too, had stiffened, as though he and Tahn shared an understanding of what that meant: elimination. Her heart raced. Murder? It must be. But… boys? Children?

Tahn snapped, “Your scientific team, I presume, is involved in the culling process and that’s why they’re unavailable?”

“Correct.”

“Fine. Sergeant Eloel and I would like to see some other part of the camp while we’re waiting for them, if you don’t mind.”

“Shall I interrupt my own schedule to accommodate you, Tahn?”

Tahn smiled challengingly. “Kind of you to offer, Major. Thank you. One of the first things I’d like to see is what you’ve done with
my
prisoner. Baruch.”

Lichtner’s face pinched nervously, like a thief caught in the act. He shoved his chair back with a loud squeal. “I hardly think you’re qualified—”

“If we’re going to argue custodianship, Lichtner, perhaps we should circumvent nasty bickering and tran the Magistrates. They
authorized
my custody of him.”

“But, after all, Captain, you lost him when you became his hostage.”

“According to manual 1141, legal prisoner transfers occur only when the authorized officer—me, in this case—requests assistance and relinquishes the prisoner after dutifully filing the 1141 paperwork.
I don’t recall doing either.”

Lichtner smiled insidiously. “He rather treated you like a brother, Tahn. You didn’t seem to be his hostage, you looked like his … accomplice.”

Tahn clenched his fists. “I suggest you don’t repeat that, Major.”

Lichtner’s lips puckered offensively. “Well …. Come with me. We’ll find something to
occupy
you, Tahn.”

“Baruch.”

Lichtner downed his glass of whiskey and walked haughtily across the room. His dozen security officers followed like pet lap dogs. Tahn fell in line. Rachel quickly grabbed the
Mea
and shoved it in her pants pocket before trotting to catch up. The sacred gate felt curiously cold—like the flesh of a corpse frozen in a glacier. Lichtner stopped by the door to pick up a ruby-handled pistol from a table and tuck it into his belt holster, then he exited into the courtyard.

Rachel leaned close to Tahn as they approached the door. “Too easy. Why did he give in?”

Tahn shook his head. “Don’t know. Unless he’s already received orders concerning Baruch from somebody I don’t know about.”

“Orders?”

“Later.”

As they strode through the flower garden, out the gate, and onto the parade ground, Rachel’s thumb played with the safety of her rifle. She surreptitiously noted the positions of Lichtner’s security people—arranged strategically in an elongated diamond around them. They proceeded quietly and quickly by a series of gray windowless buildings and headed out across an empty expanse of red dirt.

The open area seemed mostly to be coarse gravel heaped carelessly in mounds. The rain had nearly stopped. An amorphous cloud of mist still clung to the tops of buildings, splashing Rachel’s face with an occasional drop. In the distance the vague rumble of thunder rolled over the desert.

To her right, Rachel saw movement. She jumped, staring openmouthed as she swung the barrel of her rifle around. Small explosions tormented the ground, shooting wisps of dirt high into the damp air. She shook her head, baffled. Lichtner’s guards laughed, nudging each other as they pointed at her.

Tahn came up beside Rachel. She could feel the warmth of his arm against her shoulder. “Come on,” he said. “You don’t need to see this.”

“But what is it?” she asked, loudly enough that Lichtner overheard.

The major stepped forward, smiling proudly. “My Gamants are buried here,” he boasted. “Those from last spring. I suspect we’ve accumulated twelve or thirteen thousand in this camp alone.”

Rachel couldn’t breathe. The explosions. Gases released by the buried decaying bodies of… of thousands. The rifle in her arms became a flimsy lifeboat.
How could she stand here so calmly?
Somewhere in the past months she must have lost her mind. She who had screamed in rage and terror at the murder of a few hundred on Horeb
stood here calmly?
What had happened to her? Her soul ached as though aflame. Why?
Why didn’t her hands rise like talons to rip out her eyes to prevent her from witnessing this?
How could she keep them clenched so still, so tight, around her rifle and not lift it to blot out this obscenity? She turned to glare in fiery hatred at Lichtner.

“Major?” Tahn commanded sharply. “We’d like to see Baruch.”

Lichtner’s proud smile dimmed. He shifted to throw out his chest. “Very well, Captain, but let me warn you, he tried to escape this morning. We had to take defensive action.”

Rachel’s eyes glazed.
If you’ve hurt Jeremiel
….

Lichtner plowed across the field with Tahn in hot pursuit.

Rachel followed, but with each step she took her heart pounded more painfully. She could feel the heels of her boots grinding into the emaciated faces of people she almost recognized—relatives long-lost in the fickle mists of time. In a desperate motion, she reached down and clasped a handful of sand and put it in her pocket—hoping she could carry one victim away from this unholy ground.

They strode toward a new building, partially completed. It loomed like a tall gray monster over a broad plaza. Outside, a line of children stood. Boys. Crying. She saw Tahn’s shoulder muscles bulge as though in self-defense against the mournful sounds. A short distance away, a group of perhaps sixty men labored on the building, filling trucks with dirt, lifting pipes, hammering ruthlessly. Surrounding them, twenty armed guards milled.

As Lichtner passed, the lead guard, a tough looking criminal of a man, sidled up to him. “Eh, Major? You want me to save the fun part for you? You have time today?”

Lichtner sniffed, and glanced at Tahn. A slow smile crept over his face. “Yes. Save it, Blobel.” Then he strode by, leading the way up a short series of steps and into a broad white room.

A long desk sat in the front. A male nurse manned the com console behind it. Doctors moved purposefully up and down the halls, bowing their heads to Lichtner.

They passed two doors and stopped at the third. Lichtner stood aside. Tahn swept by him, into the room. Rachel heard his outraged whispers before she, too, entered.

Lying in the bed beneath a white sheet, Jeremiel had a bandage wrapped around the right side of his head, covering one eye. Was he asleep—or dead? The visible flesh of his face bore deep burns, salved with a yellow gluelike substance. Frantically, Rachel’s gaze searched the area of his chest. Did it move?

Tahn walked forward and threw off the sheet. Rachel’s stomach rose into her throat. She took a half-step forward. Hideous oozing wounds covered his muscular body, each plastered with the yellow glue. Rachel heard Tahn’s labored breathing, saw him tighten his hands into fists. As though in slow motion, he turned and lunged at Lichtner.

“Guards!” the major shrieked, shuffling away.

Two soldiers caught Tahn’s arms and held him back. “What the hell did you do, Lichtner?” he demanded. “This is no defensive action.
What did you do?”

Shuddering with anger, Lichtner shouted, “How dare you question my word! My guards will testify that’s how Baruch received his wounds. And I immediately ordered my staff to care for him! I know what a valuable cargo he is!”

Voices rose in bitter cries of rage and recriminations, but Rachel ceased to hear. She walked forward, insuring her body hid her actions, and gently rested a hand on Jeremiel’s exposed arm. He felt so hot. So very hot.
What have they done to you? I’ll kill him, Jeremiel. I promise.

She closed her grip on his wrist, squeezing tenderly. For the briefest of moments, she saw his eye flutter open. In that instant, their gazes touched and she read his alarm, his dark dread that she stood next to him. His lips trembled as though he fought to speak. Then, silently, he mouthed, “Don’t try. Get out. Now.”

She squeezed his wrist again and backed away. Behind her, Tahn yelled in rage, “Get a gurney, goddamn you! You’ll transport him to my shuttle immediately, or by God, Lichtner, I’ll—”

“Don’t threaten me!”

Tahn stood red-faced, so angry the tendons in his neck stood out. He shook off the restraining hands of the guards. His eyes glowed like living starbursts. “Lichtner,” he said in a low voice that burned. “I guarantee you an inquiry. And I’ll certainly be bringing up the Silmar affair to back my charges.
You understand me?”

Lichtner’s chin jutted out. “Then there’ll be mutual charges, Captain. I’m not going to let you get off. They’ll court-martial you—”

“Get a gurney!” Tahn took a threatening step forward, daring the guards to halt him. He glared into Lichtner’s face. “I want Baruch in my shuttle in fifteen minutes. I’ve got better medical facilities aboard the
Hoyer
than you’ll ever dream of down here. Move!”

“Don’t order me around Tahn. You don’t have
any
authority….”

The words died in Lichtner’s mouth as Rachel calmly lifted her rifle and aimed it at his white face. She switched off the safety with a loud click. “I believe my captain requested you to release this prisoner to him, Major. I suggest you do it.”

Lichtner’s mouth dropped open in outrage, but he wisely waved to one of his men. “Do it, Sokal. I wash my hands of this entire affair!” Turning, he raced out of the room. His guards followed.

When Rachel and Tahn stood alone, she noticed how badly his hands quaked. He came up beside her, eyes wild with renewed fear. “God forbid, I’m beginning to like Gamant brassiness,
Lieutenant
Eloel. Now, we’ve got to hurry. I don’t know how long he’ll stay backed down. He may be tranning the Magistrates right now.”

“Tell me what to do.”

He took a faltering breath. “I’ll search the bedside table for belongings. When they get Baruch on that gurney, you slip one of your pistols under the sheet. I doubt he’s got the strength to—”

“I do,” a weak voice whispered.

Rachel spun. Jeremiel’s one eye opened drowsily. A smile flitted across Tahn’s face. “I figured you did.”

A clattering sounded in the hall and two men dressed in white gowns pushed an antigrav gurney in. They glanced at Tahn’s flaming granite face and seemed to visibly wince as they hurried to the bed. Undoubtedly everyone within five miles had heard his enraged commands. Rachel stood stiffly, watching them prepare to slide Jeremiel off the bed onto the carrier; he groaned, squeezing his eyes closed against the pain. In the foray of lifting and hurried instructions, Tahn brashly searched the bedside table. Finding nothing, he backed away, a fierce look on his face as he eyed the hospital staff. “Both of you,” he ordered gruffly, “come outside with me.” He belligerently shoved one of the interns into the hall.

Rachel quickly tucked a pistol beneath the sheet, putting it in Jeremiel’s hand. She felt his feeble fingers go tight around the grips. With Tahn’s loud angry voice as cover, she whispered, “Hang on. We’re going to get you out of here.”

“… Tahn?”

“On our side.”

“Hoyer?”

“Ours. Halloway is commanding.”

His eye flickered open, questioning. At her confirming nod, a smile touched his lips. He seemed to sink back into the soft white sheet, breathing easier.

Tahn stalked imperiously back into the room, two grim interns behind him. He stabbed a hand out, “Take him. And make it quick!”

“Yes, sir,” the dark-haired man piped shrilly. He took the handlebars by Jeremiel’s head and carefully pushed the gurney out of the room, the other intern walking at his side.

Rachel and Tahn fell in behind them, eyes roving the white corridors for anyone who might try to stop them. The interns pushed out through the front doors and Tahn held one open for Rachel. She stepped outside.

Rain had started to fall again, drops misty, glistening like wavering sheets of silver across the compound. The interns took off at a trot, pushing the floating gurney between them for the front gate. Rachel started to step out behind Tahn, who had broken into a run, but her feet went leaden, melting into the white petrolon steps like poured metal.

Lichtner emerged from the midst of a group of guards. He stamped around, cursing, shouting at the laborers who looked on in horror from near the trucks. “You filthy Gamants! You think you can hide the sex of your children? Did you think we’d never check! Well, now you’ve asked for it! You
asked
for it! You stupid fools.” He jerked one of his ruby-handled pistols from its holster and pointed it at the little boys lined up against the hospital wall.

One child, almond-eyed with short brown hair, lifted his hands to the nearby Gamant adults, crying, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!”

Rachel saw a black-haired man with a black beard start forward, but the group around him tackled him, knocking him to the ground. He screamed, raging, kicking, trying to get to his child. “Yael! Yael!” he shrieked madly.

Lichtner laughed and shot the first child in line. A little blond boy crumpled to the wet ground like a frail twig. Blood spattered the white wall at his back. Rachel didn’t move a muscle, but something deep inside her seemed to snap. Her eyes grew crystal clear. The world shimmered.
How can this place exist in a universe with a shred of goodness? Oh, Aktariel.
…