Redemption of Light (The Light Trilogy) (11 page)

CHAPTER 13

Captain Amirah Jossel stepped out of her shuttle and down to the soft red sand of Horeb. Afternoon light pierced the heavy cloud cover in pale blue luminescent shafts. Red and gray banded bluffs jutted up around the palace, forming a blocky fortress. She’d been here once before, or rather she’d flown by, twelve years ago. It had been her first assignment on a military energy ship, a clandestine forces vessel ordered to scout the heavens for primordial black holes. They’d thought they’d found one near Horeb. The reflected gravity waves they’d picked up had looked extremely promising. But the political situation on the planet had been so volatile that they’d put aside any attempt to retrieve the precious commodity. Amirah looked up when a mean-faced little planetary marine trotted around her ship and saluted halfheartedly.

“I’m Sergeant Horner,” he greeted her stiffly. “I’m supposed to take you to the governor’s council chambers.”

“Good afternoon, Sergeant. Thank you for meeting us.”

She took a deep breath of the rain-scented air. Lightning struck one of the jagged peaks in the distance and thunder rolled over the ridges in a deep-throated growl. She waited for her security team, Lieutenant James Tolemy and Sergeant Chris Richert, to step out of the shuttle behind her.

“Very well, Horner,” she said. “Please lead the way.”

The ugly little man spun sloppily and stumbled sideways before catching himself and walking off. Amirah scowled. Drunk? Tolemy, a medium-sized man with graying black hair and a beard and mustache, lifted a disapproving brow. Amirah met his eyes and expelled an annoyed breath, giving him her best “I haven’t the vaguest idea” shrug.

They passed through a beautiful garden. Imported oaks from Old Earth and Sculptorian maples dotted the expanse, framing dozens of flower beds. The sweet scents of roses and daffodils carried to them on the cool breeze.

When they reached the palace doors, Horner hiccuped rudely as he input the entry sequence into the com patch. Amirah could smell the odor of whiskey on his breath. She stifled the urge to dress him down.
It’s not worth the effort. Whatever happens here, within five days you’ll be leaving this wasteland anyway.

Horner turned and gave her a suggestive grin. “The governor was expecting you three hours ago, Captain. He’s going to be angry that you’re so late.”

Amirah smiled threateningly. “His emotional inadequacies are not my concern, Sergeant.”

Horner opened his mouth to say something else, but at her stony glare, he wisely snapped it closed and darted through the door, shepherding them down the long corridor.

Pink marble arches rose in Gothic magnificence a hundred feet over her head. Stained glass windows filled every niche, each portraying a different image of the governor. She recognized many of the poses: Washington crossing the Delaware on Old Earth, Colonel Sarah Myers staking the first colony on the moon, Pleros of Antares 3 delivering his infamous “Limited Rights” speech which slashed the civil freedoms of his people and resulted in the massive Plerosian Revolts of the third millennia. She shook her head, disgusted. Ornias seemed to have a rather high opinion of himself. She’d never met the man, but the stories she’d heard raised her hackles. Allegedly, Slothen had destroyed several files which confirmed Ornias’ nefarious background as thief, embezzler, and murderer. The reasons for Slothen’s actions were a little vague. The “purgation notes” on the files cited “galactic security” considerations.

Tolemy and Richert followed behind her, mumbling profanely about government waste and mismanagement. As she turned a corner down a new hall, she grunted in distasteful agreement.

Plush Orillian velvet carpets tufted the floors. The geometric designs interlaced colors of ebony and carnelian, dusty rose and mauve. Etched mirrors lined the entire corridor. She glanced at her reflection as she walked. At the age of twenty-nine she possessed a trim athletic figure. Muscles bulged along her thighs and arms, stretching the fabric of her formfitting purple uniform. Five feet nine inches tall, she had pleasing shoulders which narrowed to a tiny waist—absurdly tiny a man not worth remembering had once told her. Her wavy blonde hair was cut straight over her eyebrows and fell in waves to the middle of her back. She had a delicately-shaped mouth and a light scatter of too-large freckles over her button nose. The bane of her childhood, they’d finally started to fade when she’d turned twenty-two. Of course, by that time, it didn’t matter anymore. Men avoided her like a leprosy victim. She’d already been awarded her own command and had received the Giclasian Gold Leaf, the Crossed Bars of Mars, and the Naassene Silver Cross. Few men had the internal fortitude to try and court her.

She hadn’t the time for them anyway. But loneliness certainly stood as the single greatest curse of command. Too often of late, she wandered sleeplessly around her cabin, wishing she had someone, anyone, to talk to, to confide in about the insanity that wouldn’t let her sleep—the insanity that now affected even her waking hours.

The flashbacks had become her constant companions. Fortunately, a few seconds into each of the events, she could distinguish it as unreal and force herself out—except at night in her dreams where the visions seemed to be growing more and more powerful, taking over her entire unconscious world.

And other problems plagued her. There was more to this Horeb mission than Slothen let on, for example. Her orders had been crisply urgent:
Retrieve Colas no matter the cost. Immediately return to Palaia. Top priority. All other priorities rescinded.

She frowned at herself. Actually, she did have someone on the
Sargonid
she could trust—Jason Woloc, her second in command. But she couldn’t talk earnestly with him about her fears. Their professional relationship was too delicate to chance such confidences. He loved her. She’d known it for over a year. But she didn’t feel the same way about him. And besides, a captain couldn’t seriously date one of her officers. It stirred up gossip and charges of favoritism, which made for poor ship morale. Still, she liked Jason a great deal. Perhaps in another time and place….

“We’re almost there,” Horner said and pointed to the huge, intricately carved wooden doors at the end of the hall. “Best be careful how you talk to the governor, Captain. He’s got connections everywhere. He’s big with the Magistrates.”

Tolemy cleared his throat in a disgruntled manner and hooked a thumb at his pistol, then pointed at Horner, silently requesting Amirah’s approval. She shook her head and mouthed,
“Mine.”

Horner caught the exchange and his pig eyes narrowed threateningly. “You battle cruiser martinets—” he began.

Amirah pushed by him, reaching to pound a fist on the communications patch outside the huge doors. “Captain Amirah Jossel to see Governor Ornias,” she called.

A honeyed male voice answered, “Just a moment, Captain.”

Amirah ground her teeth while she waited, checking the walls and ceiling for hidden “eyes.” “Jim,” she ordered her security chief, “stay here. My orders are to meet with the governor alone.” Yes, strange orders, indeed. Slothen had also instructed her to take no more than two officers for her security accompaniment. A contingent she thought grossly inadequate given the war situation on Horeb and the threat of Underground intervention.

Tolemy and Richert lined out on either side of the door, standing with their arms crossed and scowling disdainfully at Horner. One of the doors swung open and Amirah stepped through it into the council chambers.

As the door closed behind her, her gaze drifted upward involuntarily. The domed octagonal chamber was fifty feet in diameter. Pink and gray marble columns rose splendidly on each wall, providing an exotic frame for the rare paintings Ornias had collected; their ancient pigments shone darkly in the murky light penetrating the windows. Here and there, a priceless vase sat atop a sculptured table, or a Cassiopan emerald clock ticked in perfect time.

Governor Ornias stood twenty feet away, beneath the awe-inspiring frescoed dome which pictured an ancient battle; Soldiers fired at each other, blood spattering the azure heavens. Ornias had a crystal glass of amber liquid clutched in his manicured hand. Tall, with sandy hair and a tightly braided beard, he had strikingly cold lime green eyes—like a snake, she thought. The golden threads embroidering his long amethyst robe glimmered when he moved. He smiled admiringly at her.

“I’d no idea you’d be so attractive, Captain,” he said silkily.

“And I’d no idea you’d be so incompetent, Governor,” Amirah parried. “I’ve reviewed your files quite thoroughly.”

His smile faded into a grimace. She straightened and locked her hands behind her in an at-ease position. Ornias’ gaze brazenly drifted over the swell of her breasts.

“Yes, well …” he said in a faintly amused tone. “Everyone has a right to their opinion. I must say, your reputation has preceded you. I’m honored to—”

“Enough of the ‘pleasantries,’ Governor. We have business.”

“You’re as subtle as your reputation suggests, Captain. I suppose such arrogance goes hand-in-hand with being a great war hero. Despite your manners, however, I would like to get to know you better. May I get you a glass of sherry first? Or something else, Captain?

Amirah gave him one of her best loathsome looks. “No, Governor. I expect this to be a short meeting.”

“Indeed? I’d anticipated a lengthy discussion about Horebian affairs.” Ornias turned abruptly and walked away from her to stand before the broad windows. Outside, dark clouds roiled, rain falling in wavering misty blankets. The red ridges glimmered a bright orange beneath the flashes of lightning that split the heavens. “And just what, pray tell, are you supposed to tell me, Captain?”

“Magistrate Slothen wants Mikael Calas,
alive and well and immediately.
If you are unable to bring him in within the next two days, I’ve been put in charge of the cruiser forces orbiting Horeb and I’ve been instructed to use all the resources at my command to attain his capture.”

Ornias leisurely paced the black, rose-strewn carpet. “And why does Slothen want Calas alive? It seems to me it would be a great deal easier to deliver him to Palaia Station in a less formidable state. That boy’s become quite a nuisance, Captain.”

“I’m well aware that he’s grown into a first-class soldier, but if you can’t corner him, I’m certain my people can.”

“Are you?” Ornias smiled dubiously. “Do you know I’ve lost more than twelve thousand marines to Calas’ uncanny military strategies?”

“I do,” she answered unswervingly.

The Governor tipped his chin like a king examining a truant servant. “I’ve been trying for years to capture Calas, without success. Just how does Slothen expect me to suddenly—”

“Find a way.”

He uttered a soft sound of angry disbelief and shook his head. “In two days? May I enlist your cruiser’s weaponry to blast his polar hiding place to dust? We have him cornered there at this very moment. Only yesterday we—”

“I’m not authorized to use cruiser weaponry unless you have failed through conventional methods. However, I can assign several more platoons to your planetary marine corps if you deem it necessary.”

“That would help. But really, Captain, this is ridiculous! You’re placing me in an impossible situation. Even with more soldiers, I seriously doubt—”

“Nonetheless,
you have two days.”

A dark suspicion stirred in Ornias’ eyes. He cocked his head inquisitively and paced before one of the ancient paintings. “Slothen seems terribly anxious to have this completed, Captain. Is there something you’ve failed to tell me?”

Amirah ground her teeth. In the dim light streaming through the windows, Ornias’ robe gleamed extravagantly. It set her on edge. “Nothing that we’ve confirmed, Governor.”

“Uh-huh.” Ornias caressed his beard thoughtfully. “And what have you heard that’s unconfirmed?”

“We have unverified reports on the low dattran bands suggesting Baruch may be planning an assault on this planet.”

Ornias’ face paled suddenly, as though an icy finger had traced his spine. His lime green eyes narrowed. “Why haven’t I been notified of such a possibility before now?”

“It’s just rumor. Nothing to worry about yet.”

The governor’s arrogance and bluster seemed to fade before her eyes. She kept her amusement hidden. Everyone knew that he and Baruch were old enemies. A dozen years ago, Ornias had betrayed and sold Baruch to the Magistrates for five billion notes. In a still unexplained maneuver, Baruch had captured the ship destined to take him to Palaia, the
Hoyer,
under the command of Captain Cole Tahn, and escaped. Certainly if Baruch captured Ornias, the governor’s death would be a slow one.

While she waited for Ornias to muster the courage to discuss the issue further, she let her thoughts drift to Tahn. A highly decorated officer, his brilliant military strategies were still taught in Academy. During the early days of her training, she’d had a terrible crush on him. In the holo lectures on tactics, he’d been so handsome, so utterly confident and in control—he’d quickly become one of her greatest heroes. She’d memorized nearly every element of his career. Arguments still raged as to whether he’d died in the fighting over the planet of Tikkun or now lived in hiding amid the Underground. She believed the former. A man of his superior valor and loyalty didn’t just decide to switch sides one day.