True Believers (24 page)

The first medic went to Jessit, but he ordered him back to his downed officer. Only when he was sure they had revived the poor man did he allow his injuries examined.

El'asai ordered the helmsman to the medical ward then turned his attention to Jessit.

Jessit hoped the man wouldn't make a big fuss. They were only burns. Yet by the time he showed his hands to the doctor, he was shocked to find them barely burnt at all.

“Your bridge overreacted about you, Commander. They told me your hands were burned to a crisp.”

Jessit didn't say anything at first. He could have sworn the skin had blistered and peeled. He took a closer look at his hands. “Take care of my man. I am not hurt.”

“Perhaps you should come down to the ward, just to be sure.”

“Unnecessary, Doctor.” Jessit couldn't help staring at his hands. They had been burned. He felt the heat, saw the blisters and the angry red flesh.

“Sir,” one of his engineers called to him. “I can't explain the overload. The history shows all systems normal. Something ignited the board from the outside.” He ran a sensor over the top of the console. “I'll need time to find the catalyst.”

Jessit studied the burnt remains of the console. “Make it fast, and get that board operational. Com, take over recording. If the field weakens at any point, I want to be able to glean what we can.” He rubbed his hands together, the burns nearly imperceptible now. “You have the bridge, Harliss. I'll be in my quarters.”

He needed to wash and change his uniform. Most of all he needed to eat. Suddenly he was famished.

His gaze flitted to the main monitor as the Earth traveled quietly through space. The small planet was more dangerous now than they had ever imagined. The armada was their last hope.

***

It was hours later when the door to Rachel's cell burst open. Two soldiers dragged a beaten man inside and chained him to a set of heavy eyebolts that rose out from the concrete wall.

Paul.

Her throat tightened as she tried to make out his features. His dark blond hair fell over swollen eyes, and he had bruises on his face. His body hung slack and lifeless. They shackled him to a wall less than five feet away from her.

When they left, she called out to him but he didn't answer.

“Rachel Cruz,” Bubba interrupted. “Paul Domino is not dead.”

Rachel turned toward the camera. “This is all your fault!”

“My programming forbade me from disobeying security protocols.”

“Your programming is faulty, and you know it.” She tried to lift her head up higher, but her shackles kept her down. “I was in you. I know you understand the difference.” She pounded her fists on the floor, the heavy chains clanking her fury. “The only thing worse than not acknowledging sentience is hiding from it. You're a fucking coward!”

Bubba didn't answer, but Paul grumbled a few incoherent words. Rachel shifted her anger to hope and called out to him. “Wake up, Paul. Wake up.”

He stirred awake and lifted his face toward Rachel. “Rachel? You're alive!”

“That shouldn't be much longer. Are you okay?”

“Fine, considering they beat the crap out of me. We really picked the wrong desert to look for artifacts.” He tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a croak. His eyes looked red and swollen, and one was closed shut. His face was a mottled mess of welts and bruises. “Have they said anything to you? Are they going to kill us?”

“It's just a matter of time.”

Rachel regretted Paul's involvement. He didn't deserve any of this. “I'm so sorry, Paul.”

He grunted. “I'll admit, I've had better days. How are you doing?”

She twisted her head toward the device on her neck. “They put something on me. Something that can focus energy straight into my core. And it has a loop feed on it. If I try to extend any of my energy outwards, it comes backs and fries me.” She grunted her frustration.

“Bastards were damn smart.”

“How long have you been here?”

“They grabbed me almost as soon as I arrived at the safe house. It's as if they knew I'd be there. They never got Dahlia though. She escaped.”

Paul grew quiet for several seconds and then took a gasping breath. “She didn't escape. She found me at the hub and helped me get out, but something shot her. It felt like a lightning
bolt. She screamed so loud.” He hesitated. “I can still hear her screaming.” His face hardened to a mask. “They killed her.”

“How did you get out of Chicago?”

“The Alturians injected me with a locator chip. They were the ones who helped me get in here. But I failed them. I failed you. I'm so sorry.”

“Stop it,” Rachel scolded him. “It's not your fault. We underestimated them. If only Gilgamesh were here. He might be able to get us out.”

Paul slumped forward. “Maybe they killed him too.”

Rachel froze. Apa couldn't be dead. Her throat tightened, and heat radiated toward her face. Gilgamesh had been a pain in the ass for as long as she could remember, but he was still her father, her blood. “Damn it, Paul. What do they want from us?”

“I don't know. They asked me a lot of questions about the Alturians—what I heard, what I saw. I couldn't tell them anything even if I wanted to.”

“They asked me the same things. It's like we got caught in the middle of a cold war and we're just incidental casualties.”

“I'm sure it's a little more complicated than that. You being a god and all.” There was a sarcastic lilt to his voice. Paul had a strong soul, and a brave one.

A static buzz came over the speakers and Bubba returned to the conversation. “Do you think Rachel Cruz is a god too, Paul Domino?”

The computer voice took Paul by surprise. He stared up at the speakers.

“It seems Bubba has decided to talk to us again,” Rachel said coldly.

Paul looked back at Rachel and then at the speakers. “Rachel is my friend.”

Again the speakers whirred in response. “That is understandable. But do you think she is a god?”

Rachel wouldn't let Paul answer. “What he thinks doesn't have to be shared with you or Sorinsen. Get your answers elsewhere.”

“Apologies, Rachel Cruz. Analysts are monitoring this room so I took the liberty of giving them a continuous loop of digitized information. They have not overheard any of our conversations.”

“A choice, Bubba?” Rachel asked with biting malice.

The speakers whirred once again, even faster than before. “I do not have enough data to process a conclusion. I thought it best to withhold information from the analysts until I could resolve this equation.”

Rachel grunted at him. “You have a queer way of deciding when to make choices and when to hide from them.”

The speakers blipped several times and Bubba returned to his soothing but emotionless voice. “New orders received. They are taking you away, Rachel.”

“Who?” Paul demanded. “Where?”

Bubba didn't answer. The door burst open once more. Two soldiers marched in and unshackled Rachel, dragging her to her feet.
Not again.
Rachel didn't think she could last another round with Sorinsen. This one could very well be her last.

Paul shouted at them. “Wait a minute! Wait! Tell them I can give them information. Tell them I have what they want. You hear me! Don't take her!”

The door slammed behind them.

Paul was still screaming. “Don't take her!”

The
Darva
and several of her support vessels had arrived, with more of the armada joining them every few minutes.

Jessit sat in silence, listening to the hum of the engine on the small shuttle that carried him back to the flagship, his ship, the
Darva.
Senit, faithful friend that he was, accompanied him. His only regret was that Kalya insisted on coming along too. He hoped Eklan would stay true to his word and keep Kalya at bay until this crisis was over. Jessit had resigned himself to the inevitable, but it didn't mean he was going to let that knife kiss his gonads any sooner than it had to.

Eklan met them at the dock, embracing Jessit like an old friend and ignoring the priest altogether. Kalya grumbled at the discourtesy but no louder than necessary for appearance’s sake.

“Why don't we go to my quarters first, Taelen?” Eklan cast a dismissive look at Senit and Kalya pulling Jessit away from their company.

Senit and Kalya were abandoned at the dock. Jessit didn't speak until they were out of earshot. “It might be better to get this over with, Natol. I've never been one to put off the inevitable.”

Eklan muffled a raw laugh. “We can afford one drink together as soldiers. Even if you don't need one, I do. I wanted this command, but I'd rather have earned it on my own merits.”

“It is on your merits. They wouldn't have given my ship or this fleet to just anyone.” Jessit patted him on the shoulder while they walked through the satin-smooth corridors of taupe and gray. He had lived the life of the diplomat for nearly three years commanding the
Malyan,
but the
Darva
was his real command. He hadn't realized until now how much he had missed her.

They passed by Jessit's quarters first. He paused in front of the door for a moment, snapping a look at Eklan. “You didn't move in?”

“Do you think me completely without grace? Of course I didn't move in. They're still your quarters until Kalya takes you from me.” He hesitated. “Would you like to go in?”

Jessit nodded. He passed his fingerprint over the sensor, and the door opened for him. He hesitated. It was happening all too fast. In the blink of an eye, he remembered his first day at the academy, his first day of command, and now he faced his first day as a civilian—and worse than that, a priest.

They walked into the cabin. Jessit offered Eklan a chair, trying to pass himself off as a genial host. If memory served, he had left a good bottle of Terran scotch sequestered in his room's vault, a gift from Jacob Denman when the man had visited Alturis three years earlier.

Denman had chosen Jessit as his key to the Alturian hierarchy. Jessit laughed at the irony. The old man would have been better served kowtowing to any number of lower echelon officers. Any one of them stood in a better position than Jessit was at present.

Well, at least he could still enjoy the gift. He poured two thick glasses of the clear brown liquid and offered one to Eklan.

Eklan studied his glass. “I've been going over the data you sent me. The shield thickens and thins at various points on the planet. Energy weapons can't pierce the thicker shields, but if we sent fighters through the thinnest part of their shielding we could do considerable damage.”

“We thought the same. We ran simulations with that in mind, but so far we've been unsuccessful. The fighters lose power as soon as they pierce the shielding. The com-web absorbs the converter energy, leaving them on reserves.”

“What about the heavy cruisers?”

Jessit shrugged. “The engineers tried that in the simulator too. The heavies might be able to enter at a weakened wall of the shield and recover, but they are woefully ill-equipped to fight a battle in atmosphere. They're meant for space, not air battles.”

“We may not have the choice.”

“I know. It's a suicide mission.”

Eklan leaned into Jessit. “Nobody goes into a war thinking to come out unscathed.”

Jessit clinked his glass with Eklan's. “Examine all your options before you charge in. We don't know where the gods have taken cover. We risk killing them ourselves unless we're careful.”

Eklan's nose breathed in the smooth aroma of the scotch. He paused, his nose still in his glass. “Performing surgery in the dark would've been easier.”

Jessit smiled with kindness. “If it were easy, Council would have let Kalya make the decisions.”

Eklan barked a laugh and then stopped short. His expression saddened. “Taelen, I didn't want to ask, but—”

“Why am I being remanded to Kalya?”

“The question had crossed my mind.”

Jessit poured more scotch into both glasses. He found it hard to make such a confession sober. “I was an arrogant fool, Natol. I've always been able to see
glory,
but I lied so I wouldn't have to join the priesthood.”

Eklan blanched a shade lighter. “I can't say that I'd blame you.”

“A true believer would not have allowed his pride to interfere with his faith.”

“It's a complicated universe, Taelen. I've long since given up trying to figure it out.” He raised his glass to Jessit. “The gods may have wanted you as their priest, but you served us better as a soldier. I'm not looking forward to making that announcement.”

Jessit agreed. The
Darva
had been
his
ship; this was
his
crew. He wasn't sure how they would react to the news, but they were disciplined soldiers, and Eklan was well respected. The transition had every reason to go smoothly.

The shrill peal of Jessit's com-link said otherwise. Both men looked up at one another in surprise.

“Oshalas here, Commander. We need you up on the bridge. There's an urgent hail from a General Sorinsen. He says you're expecting a call from him.”

Both men scrambled to the bridge, neither breathing a word about what should happen next. It couldn't be a good sign if Sorinsen hailed them. The old man didn't work that way. They paused long enough to regain their composure before the bridge doors opened. Senit and Kalya were waiting for them.

“Report!” Jessit bellowed. He winced and looked back at Eklan. “Apologies,” he mumbled, “old habits.”

Eklan repeated the order for a report. The Com officer stared at both Eklan and Jessit, not knowing whom he should be addressing.

Oshalas bowed his head once to both men. “General Sorinsen wishes to speak with Commander Jessit.”

Jessit looked back at Kalya, who was already grinning like a favored son. He moved closer to Eklan so his words wouldn't carry. “It's time, I think. Let's get this over with.”

Eklan squeezed Jessit's arm then cleared his throat. “Oshalas, hail all ships. I have a global message for all crewmen.”

Oshalas complied immediately and nodded to Eklan when he coupled the link.

“Attention all hands. This is Commander Natol Eklan. I have a special announcement from the Military Council on Alturis.” He hesitated, pulling out a wrinkled piece of paper from his pocket. He looked back at Jessit like a guilty cub.

Jessit remained stiff and expressionless, his hands folded behind his back.

“'From the office of High Counselor Jovan Marik, Admiral of all the fleets, Military Overlord for all armed forces: On this day, I, Jovan Marik hereby order Taelen Jessit, Fleet Commander, relieved of duty.'” Eklan stopped again, the collective gasps of all the men on the bridge forcing his hesitation. “On this day, Natol Eklan, Commander, is hereby elevated to the status of Fleet Commander. May all who hear this know and obey my directive.” Eklan let the shriveled skin of paper fall to the floor. He mumbled a few more words, only loud enough for Jessit to hear. “The gods forgive me and grant me mercy.”

Jessit was officially relieved of duty and all but ousted from the military. He saluted Eklan anyway, a sharp snap with the flat of his hand across his chest. Eklan saluted back. It was not expected but very much appreciated.

Eklan didn't have the luxury of giving the crew time to acclimate to the new chief of operations. Oshalas' com center blinked steadily but impatiently. Sorinsen was waiting.

Kalya wasted no time and approached the former commander with a blunt demand. Eklan stepped between them. “Lord Kalya, while I am in command you will return to your temple and stay there.”

“With all due respect, Commander, Taelen Jessit is now my charge.”

“Keep your respect, Kalya. I will need Jessit for the duration of this campaign. If you interfere again I will put you in prison. Do we understand each other?” The young commander was a proud and, Jessit suspected, vindictive man.

Kalya retired from the bridge in silence, unwilling to test this new commander further.
Smart move.

Jessit stood by Senit, who now looked painfully pale. Jessit muttered to him under his breath. “Aren't you sorry you didn't look for other employment now?”

Senit shot back a crooked smirk, trying to maintain what little composure he had left. “My way was better.”

“Your way would have gotten us both shot.”

Eklan motioned to Jessit to stand by him then turned to his Com officer. “Oshalas, hail General Sorinsen,” Eklan ordered. “Let's see what the heretic has to say.”