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PART I

KAMERONE Cree ignored the gasps of surprise. He felt the uneasy gazes watching

his every move; smelled the terror as people stepped aside, plastering themselves against

the corridor wall rather than risk touching him. Whenever any of his kind appeared on

Frontier Station Khamsin-14, the arrival was reported at once and people reacted by

locking their doors. Women were kept securely behind the closed portals and men found

reason to sequester themselves inside their quarters. His kind was feared and he liked it

that way. No one dared intrude on his privacy and no one dared to deny him what he

wanted. Along with the other six Elite warriors like himself, he enjoyed autonomy

unprecedented in Rysalian history. What he desired, he received. What he said was

declared law. What he did was never questioned.

Until now.

On this morning, of all mornings, no one would want to admit they had seen him

standing outside the closed doors of the Court of Military Inquiry. No one would dare

discuss either him or the reason one of his kind would have been called to the Court.

"I will let them know you are here, Captain Cree," the guard on his right commented.

He glanced disdainfully at the guard, his clenched jaw the only outward sign the

Reaper Captain was agitated.

Actually, Cree was infuriated. His hands itched to reach out and tear the heads from the

two Security Officers who had been sent, just after dawn, to escort him to the Court. A

powerful bloodlust built inside him and it was all he could do to stand still as he waited

for permission to enter the judicial chambers. It was imperative that not one flicker of his

eyelid; one tremor of his hand; one involuntary tensing of his muscles; one quiver of his

voice betray him to those bastards behind the door. He knew if he showed the slightest

weakness, they would crucify him.

"They are ready for you, Sir," the guard informed him.

Cree let out an annoyed breath as the thick doors to the judicial chamber opened. He

was not guilty of the charges that had been leveled against him, but he knew that would

make no difference to the Tribunal. The Court of Military Inquiry had been out for his

blood for more than a year and today, he was sure they would get it.

Striding to the Bench, Cree executed a sharp salute, his boot heels clicking together.

"Captain Kamerone Cree reporting as ordered!" he barked, his attention steady at a point somewhere just above, and to the left, of the Chief Justice's head.

The five elderly Rysalian Lords who sat on the Bench of the Court of Military Inquiry

stared at him, their sharp gazes traveling down his tall form. They examined the press of

his shirt, the straightness of his tie, the cleanliness of his pants; the high sheen of his

black boots, then passed judgment on the gleam of his insignia and the shine of his belt

buckle. They paid close attention to the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed,

searching for fear, watching for nervousness. They made note of the unwavering

steadiness of his gaze, the impassivity of his face, the rigidity of his posture frozen in

salute.

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"At ease, Captain," the Chief Justice finally ordered.

Cree's right hand came down sharply. He placed his hands behind him and clasped his

wrists at the small of his back. Shifting his legs apart, he lowered his gaze to the Chief

Justice, blinked to rid his eyes of dryness, swallowed casually, then respectfully directed

his full attention to the man seated before him on the Bench.

"You know why you are here," the Chief Justice stated formally.

"Aye, Your Grace, I do," Cree answered.

"How do you plead?"

Cree knew it did not matter what plea he entered. He had already been tried, convicted,

and sentenced long before he had been summoned to the Court. The fact that he was there

was proof of his guilt in the eyes of the Empire. The Minister of Acquisitions would have

made sure of it. Trying to keep the bitterness and anger from creeping into his voice, he

replied, "Not guilty, Your Grace."

The Chief Justice's mouth twisted. "No more than we expected from one of your kind,"

he snorted contemptuously. The old man shuffled some papers in front of him and

without glancing either to his right or his left, asked for comments from the rest of the

Bench.

"At the request of the Minister of Acquisitions, we have no choice but to recommend

disciplinary action," Justice Largus Cul stated.

"I agree," Chief Justice Ilya Ruan concurred.

"May I be permitted to speak?" Cree asked.

"No, you may not!" the Chief Justice snapped.

Cree had to bite his tongue to keep from lashing out at the old man. A muscle bunched

in his jaw, narrowing his eyes with the tightness. His countenance took on a belligerence

that did not escape one Justice's notice.

"Wipe that disrespectful look from your face, Captain!" warned Justice Cul.

Not daring to look at the man who had spoken for fear Cul would see his fury Cree

blanked his expression. He returned his gaze to a spot above the row of men and waited

for whatever punishment was going to be meted out to him.

"Recommendations?" the Chief Justice asked the others.

"Whatever we decide in regard to his punishment must be sufficiently harsh enough to

discourage further rebellion," offered Justice Ruan.

Cree's hands clenched into fists behind his back. He wished he knew who was

responsible for him being here. If it were the last thing he ever did, he would find that

person, rip off her head, and drain the blood from her worthless body!

"I agree," Justice Cul concurred. "A year on Helios Twelve would not be amiss. The Captain needs to be taught humility."

"It will take more than a year at hard labor on a penal colony to teach this fool

humility, Cul," muttered Justice Traye Onar.

"That is true," agreed the Chief Justice.

"Well, then," Justice Ryda Lona drawled as he threaded his fingers together and sat forward to glare at Cree. "I vote for Active Reinforcement."

The dark brown gaze of Captain Kamerone Cree widened, then shifted incredulously

to the wizened old man. He spoke before he thought of the consequences of doing so.

"For what?" Cree demanded. "I have done nothing wrong! I..."

"
Silence!
" the Chief Justice barked. "Did you receive permission to speak, Cree?"

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Cree shook his head. "No, Your Grace, but..."

"Then be quiet!" came the sharp rebuke.

"But Your Grace, I..."

"
Silence!
" The single word was a dire threat left hanging.

Cree came to precise military attention: shoulders squared, arms rigid at his side, gaze

straight ahead. His lips were clamped shut, but his eyes blazed with fury. A muscle began

to tick noticeably in his lean jaw and his breathing became audible to even the most hard

of hearing among the elderly men.

Justice Vuin Barif pointed an arthritic finger at Cree. "Do you see what I mean,

Milords? It is for that very look of disrespect on his face right now that I am seconding

the recommendation for Active Reinforcement!"

"I agree," Justice Onar nodded. "This is not the first time his insubordination has been brought to the attention of the Tribunal." The elderly man smiled hatefully. "I think it is time the Captain was taught he is a servant of the Empire and not the other way around."

Cree swung his narrowed eyes to Onar and saw triumph blazing on the wrinkled face.

Of all the Lords in the room, Cree knew Onar was his worst enemy.

"Active Reinforcement is the recommendation, then," the Chief Justice pronounced.

"Are there any objections?" He swiveled his shaggy white head from right to left. When no one objected to the recommendation, he trained his hawk-like glower on Cree. "Do

you have anything to say in your defense before judgment is passed, Captain?"

Cree held the old man's stare. "What can I say?" he asked bitterly.

"What, indeed?" Onar scoffed and grinned as the young man's attention shifted to him.

"You brought this upon yourself, Cree."

"Other recommendations?" the Chief Justice inquired.

Justice Barif smiled viciously. "Since he is the highest ranking warrior in the Ministry of Acquisitions, I believe we have to make an example of him to the others."

"What do you suggest?" Justice Onar inquired.

"A month on Helios Twelve after Reinforcement," Barif declared.

"I will agree to that," Justice Lona put in, nodding thoughtfully. "That should be enough to curb our wayward Reaper's insubordination."

"It should," the Chief Justice proclaimed. He looked once more around him.

"Objections?"

"None from me," Justice Ruan grunted. "If anything, such a sentence is too lenient for our headstrong Captain."

Cree's bloodlust rose and the venom inside his veins scalded him. He would have liked

nothing better than to fly across the Bench and attack his tormentors, mutilating each in

turn until there was nothing left but a heap of yellowed bones and tufts of wiry white hair.

The vision of such a massacre was a red haze before his vision, but he knew he would

never be able to exact the revenge upon them they so richly deserved.

"Then it is the recommendation of this Court that Captain Cree present himself to the

Ministry of Behavioral Modification no later than oh nine hundred hours today to begin

his sessions with them."

"Do you understand the punishment as it was given to you, Cree?" asked Justice Ruan.

Cree nodded, not trusting himself to speak. If the old men took that as another sign of

his insubordination, then let them add another month or two of hard labor on top of his

unjust sentence.

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"Then you are dismissed," the Chief Justice proclaimed.

Cree managed a halfway decent salute before taking one step back, pivoting and, with

shoulders straight, spine erect, he marched from the room.

LIEUTENANT Drewe Lona, the nephew of Justice Ryda Lona, found his

commanding officer sitting beside the Reflecting Pool of Alel's Force. Cree was staring

morosely into the crystal waters and didn't bother to look up as Lona joined him.

"I just heard, Sir," Lona said quietly. There was no reaction from the Reaper. "Are you going to appeal?"

Cree slowly turned his head and looked up at his second in command. "Appeal what?"

His eyebrows shot up. "To whom, Drewe?" He looked away again. "They had me

sentenced before I ever stepped foot in that gods-be-damned room!"

Lona brushed some imaginary lint from the leg of his uniform. "When do you have to

report to Be-Mod 9, Sir?"

The Reaper snorted. "In one hour."

"One hour?" Lona gasped. "You're joking!"

With a tired sigh, Cree turned once more to the man. "Do I
look
like I'm joking?"

Shocked acceptance settled across the Lieutenant's face. "Why so soon?"

Cree shrugged. "They have to make sure I'm physically capable of undergoing

reinforcement," he said in a flat voice. "Once they're convinced I'm healthy and not liable to die during the session, they can torture me all they want."

"Don't say that!" Lona jammed his hands into the pocket of his light brown

windbreaker.

"Why not?" Cree inquired, looking up at him. "`That's what it is, Drewe, and we both know it."

Lona heard the unease in his Captain's voice and pulled one of his hands out of his

pocket to run it through his crop of sandy-blond hair. "I wish this wasn't happening."

Cree laughed sourly. "So do I."

"Do you have any idea how long it will take?"

Cree stood up. "If I know Onar, he'll have made gods-be-damned sure the session will

be as brutal as possible and last as long as it is possible for me to stand it without going

mad."

"I can't believe this is happening!" Lona ground out. "Not to you! Not to a Reaper!" He shook his head savagely. "Of all the Reapers, least of all to you!"

"Even the mighty can fall, Drewe," he scoffed. He turned away. "And I've fallen smack on my ass this time, but I know who to blame."

Drewe nodded. "The Resistance."

"Aye, the Resistance," Cree repeated. "And when I find out who authored this latest disruption of my life, I'll take great pleasure in ending her miserable life!"

DR. BRIDGET Dunne heard the woman sitting beside her gasp as the doors to the

Behavioral Modification unit crashed open. The receptionist, Ivonne O'Malley, came

hurriedly to her feet. "Oh, God!" Ivonne whispered. "It's him! It's the Iceman!"

Bridget looked up as the Empire's Prime Reaper came marching toward the main desk

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where she sat. She knew the Elite warrior wasn't looking at her—his entire attention was

focused on the woman sitting beside Bridget—but she felt the force of his fury anyway.