superb breasts, and stopped at last on her perfect face. "Oh, those amber eyes are magnificent. Look at the hatred and cunning in them, Ily!"
The Minister of Internal Security tapped a button on his desk. Two of Tybalt's guards entered. Ily handed them the collar control. "Remove her. Watch her.
She's a trained assassin and extremely dangerous." Ily's eyes slitted as one of the guards took the control. "And don't lay a single finger on her either-she'll kill you."
"Wait," Tybalt lifted his hand, walking around the Seddi woman one last time.
His blood raced. "I've never seen a woman like this."
"Lord Emperor," Ily reminded,*voice tight. "There are significant matters of state we need to discuss."
"Yes, yes, of course." Tybalt sighed, pulling himself up straight as the guards led Arta Fera out. His longing gaze lingered on her tight buttocks as she left. In his fevered imagination, he pictured his hands running over her smooth flesh.
"Most marvelous," he managed after the door shut. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to still the hunger of his hot body. Such magnetism! What it would be like to possess....
"I'm not sure I did myself any favor," Ily said tartly. But, Lord Emperor, watch her. She's trained to kill-and she hates Regans. Do you understand the danger?"
"Yes. Yes, I understand."
She pointed at his personal comm. "Please register that. If she kills you, I want it on record that you were fully warned about her capabilities and the threat she poses."
"What triggers her?" His glance drifted to the now closed door as he noted Ily's caveat and entered it. Damn the stirring of his manhood anyway!
"Sex, Lord Emperor." Ily smiled at him wickedly. "The Etarians trained her in the arts of love ... to be a Priestess. The Seddi psychologically conditioned her-to kill the man who couples with her. Her motivation is hatred. She killed Sinklar Fist's girlfriend simply because she was Regan. She negated First Mykroft's security and coordinated the destruction of the Second Targan Assault Division in Kaspa. She worked with the assassin who killed Atkin and Kapitol. She killed scores of Regan soldiers on Targa."
Tybalt started. "You don't say! A woman with that incredible magnetism? What an inconceivable ... waste!"
"Perhaps," Ily agreed, steepling her long fingers. "You are warned. Now let's get down to business. You got my message that Sinklar has Staffa trapped on Targa?"
"Yes." He tore his gaze away from the door and tried to think through the rush of hormones deluging his brain. "I followed your recommendation on that matter. Fist has one day to clear his people and any equipment he wishes to save. Rysta will level Makarta from orbit."
"And my request for Sinklar's Lordship?" Ily strolled forward, hips swaying enticingly. She bent over the monitors, allowing her full breasts to rub over the duraplast; and the last of Tybalt's thoughts fragmented.
He looked up into her passionate black eyes, unsettled, hungry to fulfill his stirred passions. "That will be a little more difficult. The political situation here is very delicatewhat with the Sassan invasion planned and preparations underway. To simply make a new Lord would be-"
"Completely within your power." She leaned forward and kissed him. Tybalt reveled in the feel of her lips. Her tongue slid across his teeth before meeting his.
Breaking loose, he took a deep breath and leaned back, staring at her, realizing how he'd been manipulated. "Oh, I've missed your audacity." He chuckled. "Indeed. No one has the sheer unabashed gall that you do, Ily.
You've been nothing but trouble. The military is literally foaming at the mouth over this Sinklar Fist. Half the Council is crying for your blood! What the hell have you been doing out there? Whatever it's been, it had better be good, because if you don't have answers, it won't be pleasant for either of us. "
She smiled saucily at him and stepped around the desk before running hands over his chest. "I had a terribly trying time out there, Tybalt. I'm horny as hell. Maybe I shouldn't have brought the Seddi thing in here so soon. I thought maybe it would, shall we say, warm you to the occasion." "Always the cunning one, my hot pet?"
She leaned her head down to spill waves of silky black --acyoss his chair. He traced fingers across her muscular thigh as the desire ignited by Fera's sensuality grew.
"Always. Would you have me any other way?"
"No. I suppose not. You keep my respect that way. Now do you want to tell me what the hell is happening on Targa?"
"We need Sinklar Fist," she told him flatly. "He took the entire planet-and pacified it. He made Rysta's heroes look like blathering idiots and killed half of them. I might add that he's about to break Staffa. Such talent is worthy of a Lordship, don't you-think?"
Tybalt studied her coldly. "We did some checking. He's the brat child of Seddi assassins-like your delightful Arta Fera. He was raised as a ward of the state. Where did his parents come from? Originally Targa, we think. Beyond that, we know nothing. The Judicial Magistrate who convicted his parents placed Fist, as an infant, in a state institution for unparented children.
After that his record contains one example of precocity after another until last year. Would you make a guess on how your Sinklar Fist placed in the national educational placement exams?"
Ily pursed her lips. "Top ten percent?"
"Number three." Tybalt enjoyed her startled expression. "That score is his
'official' placement. I turned some of your people loose on the investigation.
Fist actually scored first. The other two, uh, scholars, seem to have gotten their scores for political reasons. You know, the usual, currying favor for some patron with a bright child-the normal graft of running a government like ours."
She began chewing her thumb. "I don't understand. He should have automatically been accepted at the university. How did he ever-"
"Exactly." Tybalt whirled in his chair, grabbing a stylus from his desk.
"Someone-and we have no data on who paid a substantial fee to a personnel officer in the military conscription office. Your Sinklar was drafted as a private and went off to war. Made the first Targan drop. You know what that means?"
"Should have been instant blaster fodder." She nodded. You have no clue as to who his mysterious benefactors or enemies are?"
"None." Tybalt enjoyed the expression of concern on her face. Damn, why couldn't the rest of his Ministers be as J)right and motivated? "You see the problem here?"
Preoccupied, she nodded. "Yes. And it leaves me in a cold rage. Someone had him spotted. Who? How come we never knew about Sinklar Fist? How many more geniuses like him are being weeded out of our service?
Who's behind it ... and why?" Her eyes had narrowed to slits. "I don't like unknown factions stepping on my turf, Tybalt. I will get to the bottom of this. "
"I'm glad you're back Tybalt smiled, watching her lithe body. "For more than one reason."
"You will make Fist a Lord?"
"We can hush up the fact that his parents were Seddi assassins. Incidentally, he went to see them. The Judicial Magistrate who handled the case has since been ... retired for his indiscretions. Fist actually went to view the bodies.
Does that suggest anything to you? Are you sure where his heart is in this fight against the Seddi?"
Ily's hard squint left no doubt. "His hatred for the Seddi is well founded-and I have no doubt that it's authentic. I knew about his parents, of course. I checked on that first thing. That failed attempt on your life might have been the greatest blessing that ever happened to you. It kept Fist out of Seddi hands."
"Are you sure? Maybe his escape on Targa wasn't as miraculous as you think?"
"Trust me, I've seen his eyes, watched his expression. I've seen the spot where he blew the Seddi army into plasma. Were he Seddi, we wouldn't own Targa now. Does he get his Lordship?"
"He's without background! How long has it been since a Tybalt elevated a ... a nameless, classless.... My God, Ily! He's an assassin whore's refuse. If that should come out in the end? The scandal would
-"
"Garbage!" She laughed, trilling tones leaving him off balance.
"What did you say?"
"Garbage! Besides, who would dare insult a man who will have just ripped Sassa to shreds and who controls an army that worships him?"
"That's another potential sore spot. 11y, I just have my-" "We need to have Sinklar Fist placed in charge of the Regan military forces. You realize that, don't you? With him, Sassa will be a simple nut to crack."
"And the Companions?"
Ily's eyes blazed with satisfaction. "Sinklar will work his magic again, Lord Emperor. Without Staffa, they won't be ready for Fist's brilliance. I've seen him. He's incredible! He'll have the Itreatic Asteroids before Skyla Lyma can twist her hair into a braid."
"And if I say yes to all this?"
"Oh, I don't think there's an if in the equation. You know we need him . . .
just like I do. I sent you the tapes, you watched him maul Rysta's Divisions."
Tybalt flushed with excitement. "I really have missed you, Ily. No one else provides the stimulation you do." He stood as her sensual eyes searched his, a hidden smile on her lips that hinted of ... triumph? Tybalt pulled her to him, kissing her hungrily.
"Any other pressing business Lord Emperor?" she asked as she ran her fingers over the fabric covering his rising penis.
"Let's see," he offered huskily, bending down to unfasten her cloak. Even as he stripped her and lowered her to the thickly carpeted floor, the memory of the Seddi woman burned in the back of his mind.
"Greetings, Staffa kar Therma," Sinklar Fist's voice sounded haggard over the comm wire.
Staffa's heart beat faster. Did he dare admit that Fist had identified him? A cold chill ran down his back. Rega would throw all of its might against the Seddi now. Ily would see to that—anything to cover her tracks. And even if he could get word to Tybalt, what would the Imperial Seventh think? The Lord Commander fighting alongside the Seddi?
Staffa steeled himself, thoroughly aware he might have just condemned the Seddi. He glanced quickly around the rock warren of the improvised ops room.
"Congratulations," Staffa answered, keeping his voice even and pleasant.
"I would have taken great pleasure in destroying you, Star Butcher. I regret, however, that the job has been taken out of my hands. You have only a few hours left. I've been ordered to withdraw. Orbital bombardment will complete the destruction of Makarta." A pause. Then: "I'm sorry. Those are Tybalt's orders. You can still surrender yourselves."
Staffa stared woodenly. Defeat had filled Fist's voice. / wish I could see you, Fist. I wish I could stare into your eyes—the window of your soul—and see what manner of man you are.
"And your six hundred men and women bottled up on Level ive? You will doom them, too?"
Fist sounded as if a part of his soul had sickened. "The Emperor so orders. I
... cannot save them. I tried."
"Human life, Sinklar, is a cheap thing at best. You'll learn. I've stood in your shoes many many times. I sorrow for the people I destroyed." He paused.
"I even sorrow for a golden locket that will be buried in these caverns with us. It should be out in the worlds of men, a thing of beauty to be admired.
What sorts are we that we destroy creations— knowledge?"
"Maybe we're truly damned as the Etarians believe. The Rotted Gods are loose—and their breath pervades the universe. Existence is suffering, Star Butcher. Pain, misery, and injustice are our legacy. Power is the only reality."
"A unilaterally enforced myth," Staffa returned, a bitter note in his voice.
"A flawed epistemology. An illusion like the rest of—"
"But one strong enough to prevail in this instance."
"That is always the tragedy of it," Staffa agreed.
"If you abhor it so, why did you fight? Why did you plunge Targa into a meaningless revolt? How can you talk about justice when you incited your own people to butchery? I can't believe you! You talk about flawed epistemology? I hope your soul chokes eternally on its own hypocrisy."
Staffa caught himself nodding at the dark monitor. "I didn't start the conflagration on Targa. And even if I told you why it happened, you'd never believe it. The Seddi believe the quanta are God's joke on the universe. The ultimate irony. Perhaps it's true. I haven't found my atonement yet, Sinklar.
Nevertheless, fight for the Seddi—not so much for their lives as for what they can offer humanity."
"Indeed? So much sacrifice for gifts of assassination, intrigue, murder, and revolt? Spare me your misguided-"
"Hope," Staffa corrected. "Possibly a way out of the trap of the Forbidden Borders. Perhaps a way back to Earth and-"
"Another myth."
"No, not a myth. A dream," Staffa countered. "A goal for all humanity.
That's what we don't have now. Where are we going, Sinklar? When you leave here, I will be dead and buried. You in turn will fall upon the Sassans and, to be honest-you'll win. You might even perform a miracle and take the Companions. But what then? Where does it end? You will destroy humanity in your conquests. The dreams will be no more than radioactive dust. Cracked shiny slag on broken worlds enclosed in poisoned atmospheres. A bright and beckoning future, don't you think?"
11 This conversation is pointless, Star Butcher." He sounded weary. "Your last hope is to walk out of there, lay down your arms. Isn't that a source of hope?"
Staffa laughed. "In Ily's hands? Are you serious? Tell me, how much do you know about her? Rotted Gods, you don't trust her, do you?"
"And I should trust a Seddi conspirator? Don't talk to me about trust. Your Seddi led my parents to their deaths. Left me an orphan of the state. I've seen too much Seddi evil. I just didn't know it would cost me so much to kill you all off .
I'll let you save Mac and your people. Let us walk out. Give us a head start and you can drop in and pull MacRuder out. "
Staffa laughed. "No, Sinklar, no matter what you think, the victory is mine. I had no more than two hundred and fifty men and women-some trained, most simple scholars. I took six hundred of your finest along with the others we've blown up, crushed, burned, and shot."
"He who controls is the final victor. Power, as I said, is the ultimate reality. I would have liked to tackle you and your Companions, Star Butcher.
It would have been a true test. Here, we were unevenly matched."
"Yes. We were."
"Farewell, Staffa kar Therma. I only wish I could have looked into your eyes."
The comm went dead. Staffa stepped back and seated himself on one of the wooden chairs by the heavy table with its litter of maps. He stared sightlessly
at the forbidding stone walls, lost in his own head.
"Did you mean all that?" Bruen asked. Staffa turned. "I didn't hear you come in.
Bruen stood in the doorway, one thin arm braced on the molding. The bruise on his forehead looked ghastly. He wore a spotless white robe. The tired old man settled himself on a rough-hewn bench and exhaled thinly in the cool air. "I don't make much noise these days. I am glad you feel that way-about the ideas, I mean."
Staffa raised his hands and lifted a shoulder. "Reality is an artificially created norm. We're insensitive to the quanta at our level of consciousness.
We perceive only the trends. It took Kaylla to point the direction ... and much thought to fully comprehend the chimera of reality."
"The quanta, and God, are the only reality," Bruen assented with a faint nod of his purple-bruised head.
For long moments they sat, lost in thought. Most of the comm monitors had gone dead-permanently now. The others fuzzed with snow, waiting for the circuits to close.
"I sealed off the Mag Comm," Staffa stated. "It is better buried than in the hands of the Regans. Now it appears nothing more than a foolish action. If Fist is correct-not bluffing-we're to be bombed into pulp by Rysta's fleet.
Ily's behind that, no doubt."
"What about the tunnel? The one you've been boring out from the
lower levels.
Is there any hope?" Bruen's eyes flickered for a moment. "Perhaps a few could make it out? Make their way to. . . ."
Staffa smiled wistfully. "We can't hide from the eyes in space, but, yes, we'll try." He laughed sourly. "Perhaps the quanta will pick that moment to change wave functions? Cause a glitch in the perception of normality? Blind our enemy?"
"It is a chance. We don't have many straws to grasp . . and observation does change reality."
MacRuder shifted his back where the uneven stone ate through his unhardened armor. He and the rest sat in pitch blackness, robbed of sight. There was a faint grating sound from above as the rock in the roof shifted—and Mac could sense everyone tensing. How long since the last Mast had rumbled through the black cavern? Rock had dropped. Two of his people had been badly hurt by the roof fall. He glanced at the atmosphere monitor on his wrist. Oxygen was going fast. Not much time left. Already his lungs were pulling with a noticeable deepness. A sensation of lightheadedness lessened the dryness in his mouth. He flicked on his IR for a brief instant to see the empty faces filled with despair before shutting the visor off, saving the batteries and his tortured conscience—plunging himself into blackness again.
Sink? Where are you? What's happening out there?
How long since the fighting had stopped? How long since the last tremor had shaken their unstable warren? What the hell did it mean? Had the Seddi been destroyed? Was Sink even now trying to find them? Blinking dully in the blackness, he eaned his head back and shivered from the chill creeping out of the rock and eating through his armor, sucking at his life.
"Mac?" a hoarse voice called. "The comm line is active. The Seddi want you."
MacRuder plugged into the line he'd had run to his perch in the rock. "Yes."
"This is the Lord Commander, Staffa kar Therma, MacRuder."
Damn that calm voice! So that's who we've been ghting? "So?"
"So I just talked to your Sinklar Fist. It seems Ily Takka identified me. They believe my death is more important than your salvation. Fist has been ordered to pull back and Rysta's fleet is going to pound us from orbit in a few hours."