He felt a hand touch the hardened armor of his shoulder. "You tried, Lord Commander," Kaylla told him.
He snorted sourly. "Looks like this time Tuff didn't come through, doesn't it?"
"You've been seeking atonement. Maybe you've made more progress than you.know.
Perhaps you have achieved your grace."
He met her knowing gaze and smiled wistfully. "You know what I did. Perhaps if I had managed to break the Forbidden Borders, left humanity in better condition than I found it. . . . "
For the first time she looked awkward, deprived of her everpresent poise. "God will know. Only when that consciousness is finally shared, can you judge."
MacRuder ceased transmitting, looking up numbly, eyes stricken. "Sink, you can't do this to us. Sink, we're here. You can't let us down ... just run off and leave us without trying.
Staffa moved to reach out with a reassuring hand. "He didn't. He made every effort. It was Tybalt's order-not Fist's. As much as I would like to blame it on him, the fault lies with the Empire ... and the Seddi."
Mac closed his eyes, swallowing hard.
"Damn it!" someone growled. "Why are they taking so long? If they want to kill us, Rotted Gods, get it over with!" "Maybe they're talking it over," Bruen mumbled, settling himself by the comm, shifting his weight.
Staffa picked up the mike again. "They might be charging the system. Takes a while before a full power discharge." "Great," Kaylla muttered hopelessly.
"Here it comes!" MacRuder cried as a glaring light filled the sky.
Staffa averted'his eyes from the flash and reached an arm around Kaylla, pulling her close. She buried her head against his shoulder.
I am at peace with myself. I did my best. He hugged her tighter as the comm began to crackle.
"Commander?" The Comm First's careful voice cut the silence. "I have the Lord Commander on comm."
Rysta shifted in the command chair. "I don't want to hear it. Cut him off.
We've got our orders. Staffa's threats are meaningless now."
:'Yes, ma'am. Channel clear."
'Uh, ma'am?" the Comm First continued hesitantly. "What now?" Rysta's voice echoed across the bridge as the hum of power surged through the ship. She turned to throw her meanest glare.
"We have transmissions coming in." The Comm First bent over the monitor.
"Early warning system indicates ships are inbound." Another crisp call caused her to freeze. "They're coming from out of the sun. ETA, five minutes." Rysta called, "Weapons, how long?"
"Another thirty seconds, Commander."
"Hold that. Out of the sun?" Options raced through her mind. "Rotted Gods, you don't suppose that's Ily Takka sneaking back for a last look?" She sneered at the monitor. "Comm, put it through. Let's see who this is. "
The main screen flickered, filling with a woman's features.
"Rotted Gods," Rysta whispered. "Weapons! Battle stations! All hands!"
"That won't be necessary, Rysta," Skyla Lyma's voice brought all eyes to the screen, riveting their attention. "We've got you dead to rights. You're powered up for planetary discharge. If we shoot now, every system on that ship will fry when your shielding overloads."
Rysta's eyes slitted, thoughts racing desperately, hating the truth of their situation. "What do you want?"
Skyla said coolly. "Roll ninety degrees and dump every erg you've got. Blow it into space." Her ice-blue eyes narrowed. "If you don't, Chrysla is going to blast Gyton into a mini nova. Think you're up to that?"
Rysta searched for an out. "The Lord Commander is on Targa. Back off and clear the system, Skyla, or we turn him into-"
"Then you're dead," Skyla stated uncompromisingly.
"And after Gyton, we're hitting Rega. You decide, Rysta. Do we get to pull Staffa off that planet and go home quietly? Or do we avenge ourselves on the heartland of the Regan Empire?"
Curse the Rotted Gods, Lyma and the Companions would go berserk if she blasted the planet-and long before then, Gyton would be gutted space junk. Anger washed away with defeat. Wearily, she ordered, "Roll ninety and dump!"
Suddenly, she felt very, very old.
Static faded along with the brilliant flare of light that streaked across the sky. Staffa lifted a hand to shield his eyes and shook his head. "I don't understand. Rysta? What the hell is going on?"
A coolly possessed voice came from the comm box: "Lord Commander? We heard your transmission. Please reply. If we do not hear from you immediately, we will destroy Gyton and assume all Regan forces on Targa to be hostile. "
Staffa chuckled, releasing Kaylla and lifting the mike. "Cutting it a bit close, don't you think, Wing Commander?" Her voice remained aloof and professional. "Certain precautions were necessary prior to entering the Targan system. This is hostile space, Lord Commander."
Warmth spread through Staffa. "Very good, Wing Commander. I take it you've neutralized the threat from above?"
"We have Gyton centered in the forward batteries. Two Regan Assault Transports are also in orbit. Jinx Mistress, Simva Ast, and Viktrix are closing in support. Sabot and Slap are in covering positions."
"Sounds like you brought the whole fleet."
"We considered it necessary," Skyla declared dryly. "Your record wasn't exactly impeccable on Etaria, Lord Commander."
He paused. "Yes, well, there were mitigating circumstances." He winced, knowing people were watching. "What about us?" Mac's worried voice rasped.
Staffa straightened and looked at the ring of nervous Regan faces. "You're all safe. In fact, you might consider coming with us to the Itreatic Asteroids. We've always got a place for people with your talent and initiative-and no emperor orders Companions to leave their fellows to die in the dark. "
Glances flashed back and forth among the Regans. "Wing Commander?" Staffa turned his attention back to the mike. "We'll need evacuation for almost seven hundred people."
"Affirmative. Special Tactics Officer Ryman Ark has several squads in the assault craft. Should he expect hostilities?"
"Negative. I think it's all under control here."
"We have your transmission source pinpointed. Expect Ark in ... seventeen minutes. "
"Affirmative." Staffa pursed his lips and stared up at the darkening sky.
"Bruen, I'm afraid you'll have to evacuate with us." The Seddi took their turn shuffling feet and shooting nervous glances at each other.
"You'll have a safe haven in the Itreatic Asteroids." Staffa pushed his hair over his shoulder where the wind teased it. "You can't stop now. You all have work to Tursue. I'll need your help and your intelligence resources to see if we can sidetrack this war between Rega and Sassa."
Bruen-looking like a shrunken skeleton-rubbed a knobby hand over his face.
"Evacuate with you to the Itreatic Asteroids? Who would have thought it?
Especially after all these years, after all the plans ......
"You Rotted well can't stay here."
Kaylla paled, slipping to the ground, a sour expression on her face. "I'm not going," she gasped, shivering and clutching herself tightly. "I can't ... face those men who ......
Staffa bowed his head. "No, I suppose not. But where can you go? There's a Regan death warrant out for you. You've got to evacuate the planet."
Magister Bruen shook his head. "Such a mess we've all made."
Staffa wet his lips, kneeling beside Kaylla. He searched her frightened eyes.
"I can't help the past. I know what I've been ... who I am. But there's a safe place for you in the
Itreatic Asteroids. A place where you can be alone, pursue the work you began on Maika. There will be no men, no terrors from the past."
He swallowed. "One time on Etaria, I told you I would restore you to Maika if I could. I ... I intend to see to that promise. "
She shook her head, hot tears beginning to leave streaks down sun-browned cheeks. "I.... No. " A trembling fist went to her mouth. "No. Maika is dead for me ... as are so many that I ... loved. I wouldn't
go back there."
"We need you," Bruen added in his cracked ancient voice. "Humanity needs you.
You must take my place. I know you, Kaylla. I know the power of your mind, the way you have been tempered. The Seddi need someone of your capabilities, your strength. "
"Let me.... I must think."
Staffa straightened, feeling the fingers of the ghouls stroking at the back of his mind. He looked up, spotting the familiar contrails of assault craft in the ionosphere. He watched with approval as his lean-winged craft made a standard double-cover approach. The deadly wedges shimmered behind energy shielding as they settled around the clearing.
Staffa marched out to meet the first craft to land on the trampled valley grass before Makarta. The forward ramp dropped and Ryman Ark's trained people hit the ground at a run, their figures shimmering and indistinct behind the energy barriers. They deployed with weapons at the ready.
"Crack team," Staffa heard Mac mutter behind him. Staffa grinned as Ark trotted forward in full assault gear, his black face grim. Staffa shook his head, laughing with relief. "What? No finger ID necessary? You're slipping, Ark. '
"Been a while, Chief." Ark's lips curled into a smile as they hugged each other, pounding backs. Ark finally pushed back, a quizzical look on his face.
"How in five Rotted hells did you get into this mess anyway?"
"It's a long story. How's Skyla?" he asked, a sudden lump in his throat.
Ark frowned. "I.... Rotted Gods, Lord Commander, I don't know. She was frantic getting us here. Regular tyrant.
Then, as we closed. ... I don't know. She tightened up. Clammed up hard as a Riparian shellfish. When I left the bridge, well, would you believe she was wringing her hands? That one?"
"All right, load up. Let's blow this rock and 1 want that tunnel over there blasted on the way out."
"Got something hidden in there?" Ark mused thoughtfully.
"An obsession. One I must come back to someday." The Mag Comm's presence tickled at his mind, beckoning.
He turned, watching hudded knots of Regan soldiers where they muttered to each other, MacRuder at the center of the largest circle, arms moving passionately.
"Looks like quite a haul," Ark muttered, indicating the Regans.
"They bought their freedom already." Staffa lifted a shoulder. "Some may be coming with us."
"Good fighters, huh?" Ark had his hands propped on his hips.
"Damn good. Maybe the makings of our equals," Staffa brooded. "I'd rather have them with us than against us. A lot has changed in ree Space." He paused. "I have a mind to blast Rysta's ship to plasma."
"Why? Rysta can't hold a candle to us," Ark scoffed, kicking at the black dirt.
"I'm not worried about Rysta, but I am about a Regan First who's aboard Gyton.
His name is Sinklar Fist." A cold foreboding clutched at Staffa. "And I've got a terrible feeling we're going to be staring at him over blasters one of these days soon."
Staffa greeted the members of his crew who monitored the lock as he stepped out of the hatch of Ryman's assault ship after it settled gently into its hull dock.
"Welcome aboard, sir," one of the techs greeted.
"Good to be home." Staffa stopped for a moment, placing his hand against Chrysla's sturdy bulkheads.
"Lord Commander?" Skyla's voice called down from the speaker. "Could I see you as soon as possible?"
Staffa glanced up at the pickup. "What's the situation with Rysta's fleet?"
"Tap has them in his sights. At the first sign of trouble, he's got orders to blow Gyton into junk. Same with the rest of her ships. I suggest we conclude whatever business is necessary and space at the first opportunity. We could be sitting ducks if Rysta gets a message off to Tybalt."
"Good work Wing Commander. Meet me in my quarters as soon as possible." He thumped a gloved fist against the hull and added, "I'll be there as soon as I check on something."
"Affirmative. Stay out of trouble."
Staffa chuckled, anticipation of seeing Skyla rising in his breast. But first.
... He took a right down a lighted corridor and entered the main bay. Across the large compartment, MacRuder stood with the last of the Targan troops awaiting transshipment to the Regan transports. Behind them, the status light on the large oblong shuttle lock indicated that it was pressurizing. Armed Companions stood around the periphery, alert for trouble.
As Staffa approached, Mac grinned and stepped away from his troops. Mac stopped uncomfortably, blue eyes meeting Staffa's levelly.
"You're ready to go?"
Mac nodded. "Yes. I guess it just had to be this way. I hoped I'd see you, get to thank you again. I'll never forget what you did down there. Pleading like that for our lives when we would have killed you outright. You're not the monster I grew up believing in. You and Sink . . . you're a lot alike. Damn it, why do you have be on opposite sides?"
Staffa smiled grimly. "The time has come for a new way of thinking. You didn't deserve to die like that." He hesitated. "Are you sure you won't come with us?
I liked the way you handled yourself down there in the darkness. Men and women of your caliber deserve more than Rega will give you."
MacRuder frowned and stuck thumbs in his equipment belt. "I can't be part of the Seddi. I saw what they did on Targa." He lifted a hand to stifle Staffa's protest. "Bruen and I had a long talk on the way up, and I know why he did what he did. But knowing intellectually and having lived through it are two different things. I can't forgive him for
the suffering. I can't forget Gretta's body in that cell-all the men and women who died on that ball of rock. " He shook his head. "It wasn't worth it."
"I'm not asking you to be Seddi. I'm asking you to join the Companions, to help me stop the coming war, and maybe to help all humanity find a dream.
We've made ourselves the enemy, when in reality it's the Forbidden Borders.
Help me break them. Come with me."
MacRuder pursed his lips as he met Staffa's questioning gaze. "I'd like that, Lord Commander, and I sincerely appreciate your offer, but I owe Sinklar. I guess it all goes back to a Kaspan rooftop in the rain. He kept us alive. He kept me alive time after time down there. He tried to get us out. The only reason he left Makarta was because the Emperor ordered it." He looked pained.
"If I turn my back now, all those people who died in Makarta trying to save us died for nothing. I can't have that on my conscience."
Staffa nodded his understanding. "You're a good man, MacRuder. You know, the chances are excellent we will meet again ... in less friendly circumstances."
MacRuder nodded, a deep sadness reflected in his blue eyes. "I know. Perhaps it's up to these Seddi quanta." "Remember, Mac. You always have a place with us. If
you ever need to get in touch with me, use the code 'Makarta. ' "
A light flashed on the shuttle loading lock and the heavy door rolled back with a hollow metallic boom. MacRuder waved the last of his people into the lock, then offered his hand, shaking Staffa's firmly. "I guess that's my ride." "Take care, Mac."
"You, too. And stay out of dark places, Lord Commander." MacRuder turned and walked through the cold gray lock to the shuttle.
"None of them stayed. They all went," Staffa mused to himself. "Who is this Sinklar Fist?" He turned and walked down the familiar decks. Chrysla welcomed him like an old friend.
Skyla waited for him. What would he say? How could he tell her how much he'd come to love her?
The door closed behind Tybalt as he stepped into his private quarters. Arta Fera stood in the center of the opulent room, her auburn hair glinting in the light like honeyed gold. She turned, eyes glowing amber, appraising him, a startlingly seductive figure against the blue background of the room. Velvet hangings drooped over a padded sleeping platform. Gold inlay gleamed in the sandwood furnishings. The collar sparkled against the smooth tones of her throat. She wore a floor-length blue gossamer gown, gathered under her breasts. The outline of her sensual body was a
barely hidden secret.
"You know what I am," she told him levelly, fists clenching at her sides as she braced her feet defiantly.
"Indeed I do," he answered as he stepped over to the console and poured two crystal goblets full of Ashtan sherry. He turned to face her, offering a glass. Her head went up disdainfully.
Tybalt lifted his right arm, exposing a black bracelet. "You know what this is?"
She shook her head, tumbles of red brown hair waving with the motion.
"It controls the collar on your neck." Tybalt glanced down at it and a frown lined his forehead. "Quite a sophisticated device actually. The Companions make them. Very expensive. Each individually tunes to the thought patterns of the wearer. With this, I need only think-" he paused, smiling-"like this."
Arta Fera's mouth came open as she crumpled to the padded fabrics covering the floor.
Tybalt walked around her, bending down to stare into her frightened eyes. "You see, my dear Seddi assassin, no matter what your training, I control you. I know about the sexual trigger in your mind. The idea fascinates me. You must kill the man who possesses you, but possess you I shall, Arta. And when you strike-as you must-I'll take you out just that quick."
As he straightened and mentally released the control, she lunged at him. He triggered the collar again and watched her wilt.
"First, you will drink with me and we will talk like civilized human beings."
He released the collar and she began to move again, gasping for breath as her eyes cleared. She sat up slowly, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, head bowed in a mass of silky hair.
"I hate you, you know," she whispered.
"Of course you do. Makes it all the more amusing for me. Stand up. " He waited for a moment. "Do you want me to use the collar again? I can, you know. For as long as it takes to convince ... or kill you. "
She got to her feet, amber eyes blazing in her perfect face. Jaw muscles rolled under smooth skin as she took the sherry.
"To love.
She said nothing, furious gaze never leaving his face. "Drink," the Imperial Seventh ordered, sipping at his sherry.
Slowly, the glass touched her lips. Never did the hatred in her eyes waver.