Redemption of Light (The Light Trilogy) (49 page)

She ducked into the command cabin and eased down into the copilot’s seat. Jason dropped into the pilot’s chair and methodically struck all the patches to power up the shuttle. “Ready, Captain.”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she teased lamely. “Initiate take-off, Lieutenant.”

He threw her a fond look. “Yes, ma’am.”

The bay doors slipped open to reveal the magnificence of space. Stars limned the heavens in twinkling lacy patterns. Below, the massive bulk of Palaia glowed. From this angle, through the layers of electromagnetic shells that shielded it, the station gleamed like a burnished copper coin. Amirah sat for several minutes, watching the station, and the huge gaping darkness that blotted the sky beyond.

Amirah noticed that Jason’s gaze was riveted there, too. “I’ll input the secret dock codes if you’ll reconfirm our approach, Jason.”

“Affirmative.”

Amirah keyed in the lengthy sequence and heard Jason call, “Shuttle
Theudas
to Palaia central control. We have been cleared for landing at dock C-A. We are on our final approach; please open a shoot through the shields.”

Amirah watched numbly as a “hole” pierced the image of a hazy planet to reveal a transparent domed space station of enormous magnitude. On the satellites visible in the distance, garish flashes of purple erupted.

Amirah leaned forward, scrutinizing the gunfire through the rectangular forward portal. “Jason, ask central what’s happening on those satellites? I don’t like the looks of this.”

“Hold on.”

Jason hit the necessary patches, uttered the request, and waited. When the message came in, he struck the audio patch immediately. Amirah listened to a mechanical Giclasian voice explain, “Minor skirmishes are occurring on several satellites. They are contained and pose no threat. Please proceed toward dock C-A.”

She and Jason exchanged a wary look. Almost inaudibly, Woloc inquired, “Where did the revolting Gamant population get weapons? Spoils of battle?”

“Probably.”
Good for them.

Out her side portal, Amirah saw the shuttle’s wings gleaming with a golden fringe of fire, as though set aflame by the steep descent. A barrage of mortar fire exploded on one of the satellites. Several squadrons of fighters swooped down low, lancing the ground like fire-breathing dragons. The attacker’s mortar barrage quieted. Closer, on Palaia, sunset radiated in carnelian blazes from the drifting clouds.

“Entering dock, Captain.”

The receiving petrolon lock loomed out of the blackness like a siphon. The
Theudas
soared down it, slowing until the grapples attached and tugged the ship into a safe, brilliantly lit niche. A Giclasian maintenance team hurried out, their legs and arms rotoring in a blue blur.

Jason unfastened his seat restraints and peered intently at Amirah. “Ready, Captain?”

She lifted her face and said a silent good-bye to this shuttle and the life she’d known and loved for years.

“Captain?”

“Yes. I’m ready. Please assemble the security team and prisoners, Lieutenant.”

“Aye, aye.”

Jason saluted crisply and barreled through the entry to the passenger compartment. He uttered a few standard commands and a thudding of boots sounded. By the time Amirah entered to stand next to Tahn, all the prisoners were on their feet, ankle restraints removed, but hands bound in front of them.

The side door parted and two members of the security team raced down the gangplank to secure the bay. In the buzz of voices that began, Tahn leaned sideways and whispered, “What’s all the fire on the satellites?”

“War.”

His handsome face tightened. He swallowed hard when the entourage began to move, Mikael and Sybil down the plank first, then Funk and Calas, and finally Baruch. Tahn hesitated and Amirah saw him clamp his jaw. He peered out the doorway through pained eyes. She realized he was terrified. The possibility of being returned here must have stalked his nightmares for years.

“Relax,” she whispered. “If you see a probe chair, I
guarantee
it won’t be for long.”

He threw her a tortured smile. “Right.” And he marched out of the shuttle and down the plank into the huge white bay. Ten or twelve small silver fighters dotted the north wall, other than that the chamber was empty.

Moab spread her team in a diamond around the prisoners and herded them forward. Amirah brought up the rear, pistol drawn, heart echoing like thunder in her chest. Jason walked stiffly at her side. When they stepped into the long tube that would take them down to the planet’s surface, she chanced a look at Tahn. His gaze darted recklessly—as though gauging his chances for escape if he tried to fight his way out.

The tube stopped and the door slipped open. The raw scents of rain-soaked vegetation and rich soil swirled in on the warm breeze. Outside, Amirah could see the blood red ball of the false sun hanging over the horizon. She inhaled deeply, fighting the panic that reared like a raging bull inside her.

Moab began moving the prisoners out. “Come on, Calas! Walk straight ahead. The rest of you follow in single file.”

Amirah waited until the tube stood empty before she, too, exited. Along the perimeter of the landing field, shuttles and fighters nestled side-by-side; their silver wings reflected the deepening colors of sunset. Heavily armed Giclasian guards stood before each one. Amirah scrutinized the blue aliens. Ordinarily Palaia sported an equal number of all species in its guard ranks. What had happened? Did the Magistrates only trust their own kind now?

“Captain?” Jason said in a low warning voice. “Slothen’s ahead of us. You see him?”

Amirah braced herself, clutching her pistol grips tightly and looked up. She saw him. Standing atop a raised platform surrounded by dozens of guards, Slothen lifted two hands to her in greeting.

Amirah’s soul screamed at her to run, to pull her pistol and kill everyone in sight, to
do
something. But she calmly lifted her hand and saluted.

They proceeded quickly to the dais. Amirah’s security team waited at the base of the structure with their prisoners while Amirah climbed the stairs. She felt oddly as though she were ascending a gallows. Her blood throbbed so violently in her ears that a light-headed sensation tormented her.

Slothen greeted her with a bow. His blue face and red mouth both looked strained. His eyes kept straying to the satellites. “Welcome, Captain Jossel, and congratulations. We here at Palaia are deeply grateful for the valiant service you’ve rendered to the government.”

“Thank you, Magistrate. I understand you requested that we search Calas to see if he wore a necklace. Here it is, sir.” Amirah drew the gray ball on the chain from her pocket and handed it to Slothen. He took it gingerly, as though afraid of it.

“Actually, Captain, Master Magistrate Mastema requested it. Please, step forward and let me introduce you to him.”

Amirah blinked in confusion. Slothen had disturbed Mastema in his Peace Vault? Blessed God. Slothen stepped aside to reveal a withered old Giclasian lying on a mound of multicolored pillows.

She stepped forward.

“Master?” Slothen introduced. “This is Captain Jossel.”

Amirah saluted perfectly. “I’m honored, Master.”

Mastema barely looked at her. He reached hungrily for the necklace. “Give it to me!” Slothen handed it over and Mastema held it to his breast. “Let’s get inside where it’s safe. I want Calas and Tahn under the probes immediately.” He irritably shouted at his guards and they shoved his gurney off the dais and toward a door that led into the squat gray building to their right.

Amirah noted with relief that it was exactly the corridor they’d expected.

Slothen stepped around Amirah. “Please have your security team escort the prisoners this way, Captain. We’ve relocated the neuro research division into this building. We’ll be taking the prisoners directly to the probe lab. From there, you and I and your first lieutenant will proceed to our temporary government headquarters near the main control room. A staff of military advisers are awaiting our arrival.”

Amirah felt a twinge of panic. She’d expected to have more time … at least a half hour to find out … but if Slothen wanted to separate her from Cole immediately … she’d have to … oh, God. “You’ve evacuated the old headquarters? Are things so bad here, Magistrate?”

“We’ll discuss it inside, Captain. Please hurry.”

“Aye, sir.”

She trotted down the stairs to Moab and commanded, “Escort the prisoners through the door that Magistrate Slothen is taking.”

“Aye, ma’am.” Moab nodded, but her steely eyes traced the string of satellites, noting the increased rifle fire and activity of the fighter ships. In the glare of sunset, the satellites seemed close enough to touch.

Amirah watched the Gamant prisoners begin to march and led the way. When they got inside the gray building, a new scent stung her nose: pungent, antiseptic. A long hallway extended ahead of them. Slothen stood waiting for her at the next door.

“Captain,” the Magistrate informed stiffly. “We have to go through one wing of the hospital to reach our headquarters. I hope none of your security team members are squeamish?”

“I’m sure they’ve seen far worse in battle than your hospital has to offer, sir.”

Slothen scrutinized her team, then said, “Good. Please follow me.” He struck the entry patch and the door opened. He lurched forward.

Amirah followed. A muted wail undulated from somewhere ahead. She turned and almost involuntarily her eyes sought out Jason’s. He glowered as though already sickened by the place. Amirah passed through the next door and entered the first hospital chamber.

A wall of beds lined one wall. On those beds, people lay, eyes wide open, staring sightlessly at the white ceiling. No sound or sudden motion disturbed them. Their slack expressions never changed. One old woman wore a silver triangle around her wrinkled throat.
Gamants.
Helmets hung suspended over every bed.

“What is this?” Amirah whispered to herself.

But Jason responded, “Neuro
research.”
It sounded like a curse.

Amirah felt her team push through the door behind her. She stepped forward numbly. Some members of her team gasped, but Baruch’s people only stared in deathly quiet. Amirah’s feet seemed to walk by themselves toward the next door.

She glanced back at the old woman with the silver triangle and her heart did a triple-step. For the first time, she noticed that the woman had a tattoo on her forearm: 166TSEL. A relocation camp prisoner. Had this old woman known Sefer? They’d be about the same age if Sefer had…. Amirah’s heart clutched up.

Epagael, how could you let her end up here on Palaia again?

She slammed a fist into the entry patch and stepped aside, gesturing for Moab to push the prisoners through first.

She propped her hand on her pistol as they filed passed. Funk and Calas. Mikael and Sybil. When Sybil stepped by and entered the new room, an urgent female voice begged,
“Are you the one?”

“Who?” Sybil asked.

“The one we’ve waited so long for. God’s Anointed. Or should we look for another?”

Amirah caressed her pistol grips as Baruch passed in a slight swish of black uniform. Tahn came next in line. He stopped a moment, but he didn’t look at her. His gaze roved the beds as though seeing the fate of humanity writ large on the half-alive bodies. Finally, he turned and gave Amirah one look, a look that sent a jolt of frightened adrenaline through her. No amusement quirked his face now. Only a naked anger—as though he were asking her,
“When? WHEN?”
Then he lowered his eyes and stepped through the door.

Two security officers walked through behind Tahn and then Amirah and Jason entered the next room.

A sharp cry brought her up short. A little dark-haired woman with a long face extended a hand through the bright golden bars of her light cage, reaching out to Amirah pleadingly. “You’re
her,
aren’t you?” Her eyes blazed. “Aren’t you?”

Amirah shook her head, puzzled. This room contained living Gamants. Men, women and children … children … huddled like beasts inside their cages, most oblivious to their environment.

A tumult broke out among the prisoners. From the edge of her vision, Amirah saw Baruch take three running steps toward one of the beds before Moab slammed him across the back with her rifle and he sank to his knees groaning. Tahn cried out hoarsely and threw himself at Moab, kicking, screaming,
“Let him go! That’s his wife, damn it! Let him go. LET HIM GO!”

A melee of shouts and flying fists blurred the opposite side of the room and Amirah spied the woman with auburn hair lying limply on the bed in the light cage. A chill swept her.
His wife. Carey Halloway.
Amirah would have known her anywhere.

“Amirah!” Tahn’s voice lanced like an icy wind. Her security team had forced him back against the wall and surrounded him. His chest heaved. “Let Baruch see his wife. Let him see her! It can’t possibly hurt anything.”

“Moab,” she ordered mildly. “Let Baruch go.”

Moab’s mouth puckered in stunned disapproval, but she released Baruch.

Baruch ran swiftly forward and braced his hands on the light bars, staring down anxiously, trying to judge whether Halloway’s chest moved.