Redemption of Light (The Light Trilogy) (4 page)

Carey tilted her head and studied the device curiously.

“Jeremiel’s original analysis on the
Hoyer
twelve years ago supports your thesis. I remember him telling me about it. In fact,” she smiled amiably, “he told me to be careful. Even though I’d worn the device before and nothing happened, he said it could flare to life at any time and I should be prepared.”

“Prepared for what?”

“Having God call for a chat.”

He rubbed his chin testily. “I see.”

“If the
Mea
is a singularity, it lends credence to a lot of the ancient legends about it. The great Gamant philosopher, Sinlayzan, called
Meas
‘thunder stones.’ He believed they were related to the gate of the world, the
loka-dvara,
through which a soul might pass to the beyond.”

“Well, that’s crystal clear, isn’t it? The ‘beyond’? There’s no telling where that damned thing could take you if you let it. If it were mine, I’d blow it out a hatch.”

“Would you?” she asked, amused. In the dwindling light, her auburn hair took on a brassy gleam which highlighted her pearlescent complexion. “The device that allowed Yacob, one of the fathers of the People, to talk to God? You know it’s said that he went to sleep on a stone at the place where heaven and earth opened on to each other and Epagael came to him. Gamant zaddiks, holy people, say that at one time the sky sparkled with thousands of
Meas
—they called them Indra’s net. But the Magistrates collected them all and—”

“Forget the legends. Doesn’t it bother you that it only shines when you wear it? It’s like the thing’s calling to you in particular.”

To make his point, he reached out and bravely clasped the blue globe in his hand. The glow died, leaving the
Mea
dull, gray and lusterless—as though the “gate” had been locked and bolted against him. As soon as he released it, the blue aura rekindled, pulsing like a beacon.

“For God’s sake, Halloway. For centuries the Magistrates have been trying to access the parallel universes predicted by mathematics. Has it ever occurred to you that this quaint, archaic necklace might be the key?”

“It has occurred.”

He spat a disgruntled subvocal curse. “Oh, I get it. You like the idea of getting sucked into a black hole. And to think that for twenty-five years I’ve thought you had good sense.” He made an airy gesture of self-reproach.

She adopted a thoughtful pose. He grimaced. Her stance accentuated the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips. He crossed his arms and drummed his fingers on his biceps. In all the years she’d been married, he’d never lost that deep feeling of attraction to her. Of course, that was mainly because he loved her—as more than a friend—though he rarely admitted it even to himself. For a period of three years after they’d joined the Underground, he’d tortured himself over it, vacillating over whether or not to tell her about his feelings. But he knew that such a declaration would have forced her to make a decision between him and Jeremiel and he’d be damned if he’d do that to her. Worse—he wasn’t sure he could handle her decision.

Carey kicked him playfully. “But what if God has some critical information on Horeb that we need to know? Don’t you think we ought to ask?”

“Why don’t you ask me if I’d like to be captured by the Magistrates just to see if they’ve forgiven me?”

“You think it’s the same risk?”

“Pretty close. Though the
Mea
might be worse. I …”

The words died in his mouth when he saw Rudy Kopal burst out of the office.

He grabbed Carey’s arm hard.
“Something’s wrong,”
he shouted as he ran wildly toward Kopal. From the corner of his vision, he saw Carey whirl, crouching.

“Cole! Get down!”
she screamed.

Rifle fire shredded the peaceful beauty of Kiskanu, flares of violet crisscrossing the forests. Cole hit the ground rolling and came up with his pistol leveled. Through the scope, he spotted over a dozen Magisterial marines rushing through the trees. Their purple uniforms sent a flush of terror through him. He opened fire, slashing down through the onslaught.
Goddamn, how did they get on the planet without the scanner detecting their approach?
Unless … unless they’d been here all along. Trap? But how could the Magistrates have known the Underground would come to the Anai system?

An explosion rocked the field and black clouds of smoke billowed out of the gray office building to darken the sky. Underground soldiers dove for cover in ships or behind piles of crates. Cole slithered along on his stomach to take shelter behind the landing gear of the closest ship, Kopal’s fighter. The half-filled hold gaped open, but the entryway was closed.
Hell of a choice.
He’d have to expose himself for a full five seconds to access the entry console on the hull.

The pad had come alive with the sounds of shouting and racing feet. On the far side of the field, where Rudy’s team fought, an eerie luminescent web of lavender laced the sky. In front of the office, three Giclasians lay dead, their six-legged, balloon-headed blue figures sprawled hideously. On his right, Cole saw Josh Samuals’ team fanning out. Flooding toward the line of ships, their pistols whined through the warm autumn evening. The coral rays of sunset glittered in Samuals’ blond hair. A crackle of violet blasted a supply wagon in front of Josh and a burst of petrolon fragments impaled the air. Samuals hit the ground hard, covering his head with his arms, but his vulnerable right leg took several hits of shrapnel. Blood splashed the crates. Josh struggled to stand, but fell again, shrieking in pain.

A glint of blue caught Cole’s attention and he turned just in time to see an enemy marine’s foot slide behind the adjacent ship. He quickly brought up his pistol and triggered it. A shrill scream echoed and a rifle beam shot in from Cole’s left, lashing the landing gear in front of his face.

He lunged for the opposite side of the gear and trained his scope on the dense tawny underbrush in the forest. Four, five, six. … He switched his pistol to wide beam and panned the entire area. The garish flash reflected from the drifting clouds like waves of lavender lightning. In the brief lull, he lunged to his feet. Flipping open the control panel on the side of the ship, he closed the hold door and began inputting the main entry sequence. Shots flared around him, one flashing from the hull of the fighter. The gangplank descended with agonizing slowness. Just as Cole started to leap inside, he heard a series of screams and shouts from behind him. He dodged behind the plank. Four members of Rudy’s team had been caught in the center of the landing field. They took the concentrated fire of a dozen rifles from higher up the mountain slope. Bodies writhed hideously beneath the wide-beam fire.

The hum of ships powering up washed over the pad. One fighter lifted off in a blast of dust and dry leaves, then shot away into the sunset-washed skies, piercing the mauve clouds like a silver dagger.

Carey.
Where was Carey?

Frantically, he searched the last place he’d seen her. He spotted her, two ships down, closer to Kopal than to him. She’d dragged a wounded sergeant—Stacy Lepin?—over to the gangplank of a freighter and was struggling to haul her inside. But before she could make it, the ground beneath her feet quaked so violently it threw her backward. A lurid burst of purple light engulfed her, blinding Cole.

“Carey?”
he shouted, thoughtlessly standing up. Hit? Had she been hit? A furrow lanced the ground beside him. He jumped sideways and wildly returned fire. Two Giclasians went down, their bodies decapitated.

Frantically, he spun. Carey lay on her back in front of the freighter. Blood soaked her chest. Spatters of it created a horrifying pattern across her beautiful pale face.
Oh, God …
Despite the insane shrieks and rifle blasts, she didn’t move. Cole’s heart pounded so painfully, he couldn’t breathe.

Insanely, he ran out onto the field, legs pumping. He had to get to her, to drag her to safety. Lying in the open as she was, she’d be a prime target!

Rudy Kopal ran toward her, too, and Cole saw Kopal briefly reach down, trying to grab her
Mea,
but a shot slammed the ground beside him and Rudy lunged forward again, intersecting Cole’s path. He grabbed Cole’s arm and viciously hauled him back toward the fighter,
Trisagion.
“Don’t be a fool! We’ve got to get out of here!”

Cole raged, “I can’t leave her! Let go of me, damn it!”

“Listen to me!
We can’t afford to lose both of you!”

Lose… ?
“NO!”
He couldn’t let himself believe…. He struggled to throw off Kopal’s iron hand, but Rudy held him tight. “For God’s sake, Kopal, she’s your best friend’s wife!”

“There’s nothing we can do for her! Come on, we have to get out of here!”

“No, damn it, let me—”

“She’s dead, Tahn! Dead, do you hear me? DEAD!”

Blood drained from Cole’s head. He stared at Rudy as though he’d just heard his own eulogy uttered. No, it couldn’t be. How could he live without. … In the background, over Kopal’s shoulder, purple uniforms dotted the slopes like ants. There had to be hundreds.

“Hurry!” Kopal shouted. Gripping Cole’s sleeve, he flung him into a shambling trot toward the fighter’s gangplank. They ran inside and Cole numbly dropped into the pilot’s chair. Rudy took the copilot’s seat. Three levels of computer screens displayed different colored information over their heads. In shock, Cole carried out the pilot’s routine automatically, rapidly hitting all the right patches to assure lift-off.

“Ready?” Rudy asked, his eyes blazing with fear.

“Ready. … No, wait!”

Through the portal, Cole saw the remnants of Samuals’ team trying to get to them. Using the line of ships as cover, they ran an obstacle course of fire. One woman went down under the flares, her body cut in half, the torso thrown into the center of the field. But three made it. As they raced up the plank, two bursts of rifle fire struck the ship. Tahn activated the shields. They snapped on in a translucent wave even as he was sealing the ship.

“They’re in! Go, go,
go.!”
Rudy ordered.

Tahn punched the acceleration switches and the ship shot upward, skimming the top of the trees before swooping into the star-strewn skies.

Rudy suddenly jerked forward, eyes searching the console. “Oh, Mother of God,” he whispered hoarsely.

“What’s wrong?”

“Didn’t anybody recharge this ship?”

From behind, a gasping voice blurted, “We were … going to do that … once we got loaded.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Kopal?” Cole demanded.

“It means, Tahn, good buddy, that we’d better come out of vault on the money and within Jeremiel’s reach, or we’ll be sitting ducks when they come through after us.”

Adrenaline and a near-hysterical sense of futility flushed Cole’s system. He slammed a fist into the control console. “Is anybody after us yet?”

Rudy gazed hard-eyed at the screens. “Not yet, but I wouldn’t suggest dallying.” His fingers danced over his computer console. “Coordinates for vault are in the system. Twenty seconds to initiation. Do you want me to …” He paused suddenly. “I lied. Four fighters and … what the hell is that? Starboard!”

Cole whirled to stare out the side portal. Softly, he said. “A goddamned battle cruiser. We were set up, Kopal. Give me readings. Can I—”

As if in response, a blast rocked the fighter, throwing it sideways. Warning sirens blared through the command cabin. Someone started crying, a soft suffocating series of sounds.

Cole lunged for the weapons patches. “Rudy, give me energy readings. If I return fire, will we have enough—”

“Negative.
We’re just going to have to pray the shields hold.”

Another blast slammed their fighter, shuddering through the ship. Tahn leaned forward to check his monitors. “We’re up to speed. Initiate vault.”

Rudy tapped in the sequence. A long tunnel of luminescent yellow formed, purple wavering around its edges. They hurtled down it, going faster and faster. The ship lurched when the stars disappeared.

“We’re safe,” Kopal whispered. “For now.”

Cole leaned back in his chair, breathing hard, wondering idly who the captain of that cruiser had been. The man had pulled off a nearly perfect ambush. He …

Cole stared hollow-eyed at the ceiling. The ship had gone quiet. In the ablative silver paneling overhead, he saw his jaw quiver and clamped his teeth to steady it. A weight like the condemning hand of God crushed him.
Oh, Carey … Carey….

When the universe ended, the silence would be no more terrible than this.

CHAPTER 3

The white command cabin of the fighter spread in a twenty by fifteen foot oval around Cole. The stench of dirty uniforms and stale sweat stung his nose. He squinted out the side portal. In the past two weeks, a nightmare feeling of terror had swept him up, the panic so strong he could barely endure the cramped environment of the fighter. He coped with it by spending hours staring out the portal. He’d learned the technique of self-abandonment long ago in a light cage on Old Earth. The Pegasans had tortured him endlessly. He’d escaped the agony by searching deep inside until he found his soul, then he took it and put it within the sheltering walls of the cathedral of Notre Dame, a place so hard and impervious, their probes couldn’t hurt him. Since the Kiskanu attack, he’d done the same thing with the vault. His mind existed in the midst of that terrible darkness, a place so cold and timeless that thoughts of Carey’s death couldn’t reach him.

Cole absently fingered his new growth of dark, heavy beard. None of them had had the luxury of a shower or shave, and the last time he’d looked in the mirror, a stranger’s face had stared back, the blue-violet eyes piercingly empty.

“Tahn,” Rudy said. “We’ve got five minutes before we exit vault. Are you ready.”

Cole nodded without turning. Behind him, he could hear the soft voices of the crew. They rang with such a hushed fear and urgency that his mind seemed to act like an echo chamber, resonating with memories of other desperate times.

… And again he heard Carey’s voice on that terrible day so long ago just before they’d scorched the Gamant planet of Kayan:
“What the hell are we doing, Cole? What the hell are we … whatthehell
…”

Rudy’s chair creaked and Cole opened his eyes to stare back out at the utterly black womb that held them. The path he and Carey had walked since that day had been sinuous and steep. She’d married Baruch. Cole had become the captain of an Underground vessel. He’d made the right decision when he’d betrayed his government—
because it had betrayed him first!
In the past twelve years he’d discovered the true extent of the Magistrates’ war against Gamants and it made him so ill he could barely endure the thought that he’d willingly participated in those efforts for so many years.

Carey … Carey … only she had understood.

“Initiating exit,” Rudy informed.

Cole swiveled around to his console. In the process, he caught the wide-eyed looks of Franzia, Uro, and Rangor who sat silently in their chairs at the rear of the fighter. His heart pounded. He felt their fear more intensely than his own. Three levels of computer screens flashed different colored information to him. He checked them fleetingly. Rudy threw him a worried glance. Kopal’s brown curly hair stuck to his forehead in damp wisps, accentuating the pointedness of his nose and the deep olive tones of his skin. His gray eyes bored into Cole.

Rudy input the exit sequence. Under his breath, he asked, “Are you with me, Tahn? I can’t pilot this ship by myself if we run into trouble. Do you want me to—”

“I’m with you.”

Rudy nodded, but he continued to glance up periodically, evaluating.

Cole stared at the chronometer, watching it slow. The numbers flashed in green—the color of Carey’s eyes. His memories displayed them for him, warm, calculating, that hint of a smile around the edges. He could feel the muscles knot in the pit of his stomach.
Goddamn it.
The crew had gone silent. He forced his mind back. “What’s our location, Kopal? How close are we going to be to the
Zilpah?”

“If Jeremiel’s had the luxury of staying stationary, we should exit very close. But if he’s moved and those Magisterial fighters come out—”

“Count on it,” Cole interrupted. He glanced out the forward portal. A tunnel of luminescent yellow had formed as they hurtled out of vault. Purple licked around the edges like waves of violet flame. Haggardly, he said, “I suggest we all prepare for combat.”

A brief flurry of activity clattered around the command cabin, people scrambling to brace themselves in their seats. The
Trisagion
didn’t even have enough energy left to make the EM restraints operable.

“Here we go, folks,” Rudy informed.

The saffron tunnel vanished and the stars burst to life, streaking the skies like pearlescent blue-violet tubes. The Moran gas nebula gleamed, a fuzzy splash of white gauze against the black velvet background.

“We’re in the right place,” Rudy murmured tautly. “But where’s the fleet?”

Cole forced a swallow down his tight throat. He reached up and hit the communications patch. “Fighter
Trisagion
to
Zilpah,
do you read?” He waited a short interval, then repeated,
“Trisagion
to
Zilpah,
mayday, mayday. Anybody out there? Our coordinates are one-forty, twenty-two, by three…. Baruch, for God’s sake, if you can hear us, we’re in deep trouble out here, Repeat, our coordinates are one-forty, twenty-two, by three. Over.”

Behind them, a single blip flared. Cole’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me that’s not a battle cruiser, Kopal.”

Rudy vented a tight breath. “The mass readings indicate it’s one of our fighters. Must be Zimmern.”

An audible sigh of relief reverberated around the cabin, punctuated by nervous laughter. Cole hit the communications patch again.
“Trisagion
to
Hullin,
do you read, Zimmern?”

A pause. “Zimmern here, Captain Tahn. Where’s the fleet?”

“Baruch must have been forced to leave. Listen Lu, we’re expecting unfriendly company.
Trisagion’s
low on energy. If you can get to us before any Magisterial vessels appear, I want you to cover our backs for as long as you can, but if things look bad—get out. Make a run for it. Try to find the fleet and report on the attack in the Anai system. Tell Baruch … tell him Carey’s dead.”

In a bare murmur, Zimmern responded, “Aye, sir.” Several seconds elapsed before he continued, “What will you do if we have to—”

“Manage the best we can.
Just go.”

“Affirmative, sir. Good luck. Zimmern out.”

Tahn cut the dattran and swung around to Rudy. “What’s our energy status?”

Kopal filled his cheeks with air and exhaled loudly. “Damn near zero.”

“How long can we sustain thrust at current levels?”

“About ten minutes.”

“Oh, well, that’s lovely.” Cole leaned back and massaged his forehead. “That’s
just
lovely.”

On the second overhead monitor, five more ships exited vault, then six, seven, eight. He saw Rudy glance at the readings. “Fighters. No cruisers.”

“Oh, I feel better.” An unpleasant chuckle of futility escaped Cole’s lips. He bowed his head and shook it. He’d always imagined death’s preamble would be terrifying, but he only felt a sweeping sensation of unnatural calm.
What idiot ever said life was the merciful gift of God? Some ridiculous prophet, no doubt. Clearly, death is the gift.
There’d be no more insane battles, no more wrenching feelings of hopelessness, no more necessity to watch precious friends die.

Rudy swiveled around in his chair and gave Cole a broad grin. Cole’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. In that soft drawl that marked his upbringing on the planet of New Savannah, Kopal said, “Just because I’m in the mood, Tahn, I want you to know something.”

“What?”

“I never really liked you.”

Cole lifted both brows. “A frivolous point, I should think, at this particular moment.”

“Spurious, not frivolous.”

“Did you think I didn’t know?”

“Didn’t matter. I—”

“Well, what’d you bring it up for?”

Kopal drummed his fingers on his white console. “I thought I owed it to you to tell you.”

“You Gamants have a very peculiar sense of honor.”

Kopal grinned halfheartedly. “Maybe, but it was weighing on me. I could never understand what Jeremiel saw in you. You’re arrogant, offensive on the best of days, and a blackguard at heart.”

“It was the arrogance that Baruch
liked,”
Cole assured him, pointing a finger. The constant past tense didn’t seem to affect either one of them.

Rudy gave him a wry smile. “Wouldn’t doubt it. Jeremiel’s always had questionable tastes.” He heaved an audible sigh. “On the other hand, I suspect you’ve saved forty or fifty thousand Gamant lives in the past ten years. You’re a brilliant military tactician, Tahn. For that, I’d like to thank you.”

Cole swiveled in his chair and met those gray eyes. A warm and authentic gratitude stirred in their depths. “I never liked you much either, Kopal … until now.” He leaned forward and extended a hand.

Rudy took it in a strong grip and shook, all the while holding Cole’s gaze.

They both went deathly still when the ship gave a final lurch and then sailed into a quiet drift pattern. The interior lights flickered, backup generators kicking on to maintain the life-support systems.

Rudy squeezed Cole’s hand hard one last time and turned to inspect the monitor to his right. “Shields dead. Thirty minutes of air left.”

“What an optimist you are.”

They exchanged a resigned sideways glance and both straightened in their seats, leaning over their controls, valiantly pretending some defensive action still existed to be taken. In the background, Kelly Rangor prayed, a sweet and high sound, her voice filled with tears. Someone else joined in. The soft drone of sacred words swirled through the ship.

The Magisterial vessels formed up in an inverted flying wedge and swung around, surrounding Zimmern’s fighter. Cole clenched a fist in his lap.
Come on, you goddamned Gamant God, give your Chosen People some help for a blasted change.

As though to spite him, violet beams lanced out, three vessels concentrating fire. The
Hullin
lunged sideways, shields flaring, absorbing, redistributing energy. In a mad attempt to slip out of the wedge, Zimmern fired back wildly and applied reverse thrust, shedding V. The Magisterial fighters shot forward, pitching headlong toward the
Trisagion.
Four ships veered off, heading back for the
Hullin.
The remaining four continued forward, closing on the
Trisagion.
By now their sensors would have revealed the ship’s vulnerability. The fighters descended like vultures on a dying rabbit.

“Damn it,” Cole murmured. He folded his arms, straining at his own impotence.

“They’ll be in firing range in ten seconds.
Five, four, three, two
…”

They all braced themselves, sucking in a final breath as though it would help. Ten more seconds ticked off like centuries of agony. The Magisterial fighters swooped down to within shouting distance. Cole peered pensively out the forward portal at the silver wedges which formed a semicircle around them. “What the hell are they doing?”

Rudy just shook his head.

Cole checked monitor number two. It showed the
Hullin
dead in space, shields gone—
but alive.

“I don’t understand,” Rudy growled hoarsely. “Why aren’t they firing?”

Cole started when the green communications light on his console flashed, demanding a response. A glacial chasm yawned in his chest to swallow all his sensibilities.
“They want us alive.”

Rudy’s eyes widened. “And we don’t even have the energy to initiate a destruct sequence? Oh, God.”

Cole listened to the nauseating rush of blood in his ears. The possibility of capture stood as the single greatest horror of every Underground soldier, but the horror ran especially deep in Cole. The Magistrates would want to make an example out of him, lest other human captains get any treasonous notions. They’d probe him until only a bare husk remained of his mind. Almost as though he were contemplating a stranger’s fate, he wondered if they’d ship him to the neurophysiology center before or after they court-martialed him. He grinned at the irrelevance of the question. Calmly, he reached down and slipped his pistol from its holster on his hip. He gripped the weapon comfortingly as he checked the charge level.

Kopal watched him through dark somber eyes. “Planning on leaving this show early?”

“I can’t let them take me alive, Kopal.”

“No. Don’t suppose you can. Well,
Baruch atta Epagael.” A
tinge of amusement rang in his voice as he praised God. “Judgment Day has finally arrived.”

Cole frowned. “Was that supposed to be insulting?”

“Not even slightly. It’s you and me, Cole, old buddy. I can’t allow myself to be captured, either. I know too much about Underground operations. My brain could betray the entire movement.” Rudy laced his fingers over his stomach. “How shall we do it?”

“I’ll handle us both … if you want me to.”

Rudy gruffly rubbed a hand over his mouth. “Well, make it good. I hear the Magistrates have recently developed some remarkably effective revitalization machines.”

“Don’t worry. At this range, there won’t be much left for them to work on.”

Rudy sighed and squinted at the flashing green light on the communications panel. “What do you think they want?”