chapter 48

 

 

Tal rarely came to this part of Blacksun Base. The prisoners here were nearly always in judicial limbo; charged with a crime but waiting for their hearing. Somewhere in here, she knew, Cullom Bilsner was awaiting his hearing for attempted assassination. She also knew that it would be a very short hearing with a foregone conclusion. When a prisoner’s guilt was already established by a corroborated empathic scan, there was little left to accomplish at the hearing itself other than an assessment of the severity of the crime, an accounting of any previous offenses, and the sentencing. Bilsner’s crime had a preset severity of a level five state offense; the sentence would be life imprisonment. Tal felt no pity for his self-destruction. He had come very close to taking away the most precious thing in her life, and that she would never forgive.

For powerful empaths, the procedure was very different. Since an Alsean with sufficient strength and training could defeat an empathic scan, these individuals entered their hearings presumed innocent and the burden of proof fell to the state. Such hearings tended to take much longer and sometimes the quality of the final judgement was questionable; but the system would remain until a reliable means of scanning high empaths could be developed. There was a great deal about the Alsean justice system that Tal wished she could change, but the technology was simply not there. Alseans had not yet learned how to defeat their own empathic gifts. At times Tal would have given a great deal to have such technology available, but in her more reflective moments, she was very glad it was not.

“He’s in here,” said Colonel Razine, stopping in front of a door indistinguishable from the others in the corridor. “I’ll be outside.”

Through the large window in the door, Lead Merchant Parser could be seen sitting on the bunk, his expression one of martyred forbearance. He looked up at the sound of the door opening and smiled as Tal and Micah stepped into the room.

“Lancer Tal, what a pleasure. I would offer you my hospitality, but I’m very short on spirits at the moment. Or a chair.”

Tal stood in the middle of the tiny room, her arms crossed. “Or honor. Stooping to blackmail now, are you?”

Parser waved a hand in dismissal. “Blackmail would imply you have something to hide. We all know you have far too much honor for that. What I propose is more along the lines of an insurance agreement.” His gaze moved past her. “Perhaps your Guard would wish to wait outside?”

“My Guard wishes to break your neck, actually, but I’ve managed to restrain him for now,” said Tal. “He stays. Anything you have to say can be said in front of Colonel Micah.”

“I see. Well then, since I have no hospitality to offer and you don’t seem to be in a hospitable mood, we should probably begin our negotiations.”

Tal said nothing, hoping to unnerve him, but the man was insufferably confident. Parser was not a high empath, and she had no difficulty scanning him. She did not like what she saw.

“Let me be the first to congratulate you on an admirably quick investigation,” Parser continued, unaffected by her silence. “I honestly did not expect you to find me quite so soon after your meeting with Donvall. On the other hand, I’m rather pleased by it, since the cost of maintaining Herot Opah in proper security is not cheap. I was rather hoping I wouldn’t have to lay out that expense for too long.”

“Wages are less in southern Pallea,” said Tal, taking a shot in the dark. She scanned him, looking for his reaction to her guess, but found nothing. The dokker was smiling at her, and she had to stop herself from clenching her fists.

“Ah ah.” Parser waved his finger. “I don’t know where he is, so probing me won’t help you. That would be rather foolish of me, wouldn’t it?”

“Get on with it,” said Tal.

He shook his head. “Not even a pretense at respect. At the very least, I’d think you would respect me as a worthy opponent. But that has always been a failing of your caste. Warriors simply assume they’re better than any other caste, regardless of ample evidence to the contrary. But it wasn’t warriors who found your missing assassin, was it? It was the merchants. A man on the run can go a long way without ever being seen by a warrior, but he has to deal with merchants if he wants food or a roof over his head. My net is spread all over this planet, Lancer Tal. You may have the title, but I have the power.”

“And you wield it with all the usual integrity of your caste. For a man who defended the merchants so eloquently, you certainly are proving the warrior caste’s point. Shantu was right.”

“Shantu is a fool. He helped me form the task force and never saw what I didn’t want him to see. And if you’re trying to anger me, you’re failing rather miserably. What you call integrity, I call simple-mindedness. You hobble yourself with your beliefs. That’s why you lost this game before you even started playing. The tiles are already laid on the board, and you stepped into the trap the moment you had me brought here.”

“Not a very elegant trap,” said Tal. “Holding a hostage and threatening murder seems a rather blunt instrument for a game player like you.” She had to break through his calm somehow. She’d been scanning him constantly, but he was so cool and confident that nothing useful was turning up.

“What matters is the end result,” he said. “This is my only offer. Don’t fool yourself into thinking you have options. You will release me, and you will give me the vid that you are undoubtedly making as we speak.” He waved at the featureless walls, where a tiny hidden cam was indeed documenting their meeting. “You will then record a special announcement for tonight’s even-ten news broadcasts. In it you will state that you had me brought in for questioning regarding corruption in the task force, but that I’ve been absolved of any suspicion and that you formally apologize for any mark on my reputation. You will then announce that the true culprits have been caught; a merchant named Falton Mor and a warrior named Vass Nelwyn. Detain them, give me your recording by even-nine, and I’ll make sure it gets to the appropriate individuals in the media. Then you’ll get your assassin back.”

Tal had to admit the man was clever. By personally announcing his detention and then clearing his name, she’d be mixing just enough truth into the lies to make it nearly impossible to bring Parser down later. Any attempt to nail the dokker afterward would no doubt be met with a media blitz that would be extremely damaging to her own reputation. Admitting she’d made the original announcement to save the brother of her bondmate would only make her look worse, particularly to the warrior caste. She would expose herself as weak and easily controlled, and a military coup would be almost guaranteed. Lead Warrior Shantu would lead the charge.

“There’s one problem with your plan, Parser,” she said. “You’re counting on the fact that I have a vested interest in Herot Opah’s safety. I don’t. If you kill him you’ll save me the effort.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt you have a personal issue with him. I’m also certain you wouldn’t mind at all if he turned up dead. But it’s not whether he dies, Lancer. It’s how he dies. If you don’t agree to my very reasonable offer, Herot Opah will be killed by the Lancer’s own warriors. I think that will be enough to put you right out of office, don’t you? I can’t imagine your lover will appreciate it, either.” His face suddenly grew hard. “You’re still thinking you’re better than me, when the truth is that I’ve outmaneuvered you at every turn. The moment your AIF warriors came to detain me, a vid made its way to every major media branch on Alsea. It’s breaking news, so I’m certain it’s being aired even now if it hasn’t already. As you stand there, wasting time trying to find a way out, all of Alsea is watching Herot Opah being escorted out of the Napoline transport station by two Lancer’s Guards. Imagine their surprise to learn that, instead of being brought to trial, he was taken out and murdered. Two of your real Guards will also be found dead—the killers, of course. They’ll go to an early Return from the shame of their actions, but fortunately they’ll leave a final communication explaining that you ordered the revenge killing. It’s hard to see how such evidence might be questioned when the whole world already knows that your Guards found Opah and took him from Napoline. Bypassing justice…” He shook his head. “Not a good trait in a Lancer. Neither is murder. And violating the sanctity of family, as well—you ordered the death of your own lover’s brother. Even if you subject yourself to an empathic scan, it can’t be used in your hearing because you’re a high empath. And adjudicators can be bought.”

He made a show of brushing invisible lint off his trousers. “It’s really not such a difficult decision. Agree to my terms and keep everything as it was. You even get to give your lover the gift of her brother’s life.” He looked up with an expression of vicious triumph. “Or you can say no and be responsible for three deaths and the loss of your lover, your title, and your freedom. I don’t imagine you’ll last very long in prison, not without your precious Guards to keep the other prisoners from killing you.”

It took every bit of Tal’s empathic strength to front her rage. Her hands itched to beat that expression off his face; she had not felt this kind of bloodlust since learning of her parents’ assassination. And the worst of it was that she could not see a solution. She felt battered by the scheme he’d laid out so matter-of-factly, every sentence another door closing on an avenue she hadn’t even had time to think of yet. He’d been planning this for a long time, that much was clear. He had even taken away her most desperate option of sacrificing Herot to the pursuit of justice. There was only one weakness she could see to his plan, and she prayed Parser might be just a little overconfident.

“Very good,” she said. “You’ve covered every possibility but one.”

“And what is that?” he asked conversationally, leaning back on his hands.

“You may have a wide net, but you’re out of communication with it now. You can’t order Herot’s death from in here. I’m afraid we’ll have to detain you a little longer—in solitary confinement.”

He laughed. “Go right ahead. I never intended to order his death.” He pushed himself forward and stood up, walking into her personal space. “I’ve been ordering his life. My warriors have standing instructions to kill Opah in the absence of our daily communication. He lives from one day to the next because I say so. And the next scheduled contact is in, oh…” He craned his head to look at her wristcom. “About one hantick from now. You’d better hurry, Lancer Tal.”

Her hand was around his throat before she even registered the thought. “Then you’ll make that call from here,” she snarled.

“Can’t,” he rasped, and for a tense moment she seriously considered crushing his windpipe. With an enormous effort of will she shoved him away, disgusted with herself that he’d been able to break her control. He stood at a safe distance, rubbing his throat but still giving her that damnable smile. “My warriors will not accept any communication unless it’s from my vidcom unit at home, and accompanied by a code. And just in case you’re thinking of breaking the law yourself and exerting empathic control on me, don’t bother. Their instructions also include a warning to kill Opah if I appear to be giving them any instructions that don’t make sense or fail to coordinate with earlier communications. Give up, Lancer Tal. I told you the trap was sprung the moment you detained me. You’re standing in it now. The only way you’ll get out is if I open the door.”

They stood in silence while she thought furiously. It didn’t help. Parser had won, and Herot was the key to it all. If she could find him and pull him out before even-ten tonight, she could avert the whole disaster and take great pleasure in burying Parser. Failing that, her only other option was to give him what he wanted and then work on a way to take him down later. It would mean a whole mudfield of coverups and lies, and she’d have to play a very careful game. But she’d worry about that later.

“You’ve gone to a great deal of trouble,” she said. “Everything neatly in place to strip me of my title and put me away. How do I know you won’t do it once I give you what you want?”

“Because this isn’t personal. It’s business. I don’t want a new Lancer in your place; then I’d have to watch and wait and set up a whole new trap to make sure your successor is under my control. I want a Lancer I can work with. You can keep your title; I know precisely how little it’s worth.” He straightened the sleeves of his jacket. “Time for a decision. Will you keep me here and lose everything? Or will you taint yourself with just a little whiff of corruption?”

As she stared him down, she knew he’d lied. It was personal. Whatever secondary goals Parser was accomplishing, the primary one was to stain her reputation with the very thing she’d publicly ordered him to regulate in his own caste. This was revenge.

She turned and looked at Colonel Razine through the window. The door opened immediately, and she strode into the corridor. “Free him,” she said shortly.

“What?” Razine was so stunned that it took her a piptick to get her front back in place.

“You heard the Lancer.” Parser stepped out behind her, followed closely by a rather murderous-looking Micah. “It appears that my detention was an unfortunate mistake.” He looked at Tal. “The vid?” he prompted.

Gritting her teeth, Tal said, “Get him the vid of our meeting.”

Razine looked between them, her face hardening. “Yes, my Lancer.”

“I’ll accompany you,” said Parser, stepping to her side. Razine stalked away without acknowledging him, and the two of them vanished through one of the many doors in the corridor. Tal heard raised voices, then a sharp order, and a moment later they reappeared. Parser was insufferably smug, and Tal would have given almost anything for the chance to kill him. Herot had no idea what he was costing her.

“Process him and get him out of here,” she told Razine. The colonel clearly wanted answers, but she pressed her lips together and silently walked away.

“Have the announcement at my house by even-nine,” Parser warned. “If it’s not there by then, I’ll assume you’re breaking our agreement.” He gave her a mock bow. “Good day, Lancer. It’s been a pleasure negotiating with you. Oh, and one more thing: be glad it was Herot. My original target was Jaros, but Herot made himself far more useful.” He turned and caught up with Razine, leaving Tal faint with fury as she watched them disappear around the corner.

“What are you going to do?” asked Micah quietly.

Tal was still staring down the empty corridor. “Make two announcements,” she said. “And pray that we can find Herot in time to air the right one.”

 

 

 

 

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chapter 49

 

 

On the return flight, Tal ordered Micah to redirect Salomen’s entire Guard to Hol-Opah, then made a vidcom call to Shikal explaining why. “Well, at least Jaros will enjoy this,” she said bitterly after ending the call. “He gets his own personal Guard at last. Shikal and Nikin aren’t quite as happy about theirs.”

Micah couldn’t think of a single appropriate reply. Instead he busied himself with his own order to Tal’s Guards, instructing them to return to the training room in half a hantick. Tal would produce the announcements by that time and rejoin them for their next attempt at finding Herot. At this point, every tick counted.

Tal’s final call from the transport was to Salomen, and though she hadn’t asked for privacy, Micah got up and made himself scarce. By the look on her face afterwards, he knew Salomen hadn’t taken it well. The last few ticks of their flight were spent in tense silence, and Micah felt guiltily grateful when she vanished the moment they landed. He’d only seen her this tightly wound once before, and felt just as helpless now as he had then.

When Tal was late for their next scheduled Sharing, Micah used the opportunity to fill the Guards in on what he could. As he expected, they immediately channeled their anger into a cold determination. What he hadn’t anticipated was that Salomen would do the same thing. His respect for her rose another notch; the woman really did have a warrior’s heart.

Ten ticks later Tal arrived. Her expression was thunderous, and she strode into the training room as if she planned to walk right through the wall on the other side. The hum of conversation in the room ceased instantly as every Guard stood alert.

“Has everyone rested enough to try it again?” she asked without preamble. At the general affirmation, she nodded shortly. “We need to finish this. Right now. Salomen, are you ready?”

“We’re all ready,” Salomen answered.

“Good. Get in position, everyone. We’ll go straight to Whitemoon and start from there.” She turned to Salomen and whispered something to her as the Guards formed their huddle. They made a curious picture as they stood there, a motionless island in the center of the shifting Guards. A few pipticks later the shifting ceased; by now the Guards had this down to a routine.

Micah watched carefully while Tal and Salomen made their connection, and this time he saw it from the start. It began with their hands, which first glowed red, then orange, then the yellow-white color of molten trialloy. Streaks of that molten heat shot outward, swiftly merging with other streaks and weaving themselves into the shifting curtain of fire he’d seen during the prior Sharing. He’d spoken with Salomen about it while they waited, learning to his surprise that she’d never seen it before, either. The glow was a visual form of the energy being channeled by their Sharing, she’d said. It had been tremendously boosted by all the Guards focusing their own powers, and had manifested itself in this extraordinary all-enveloping flame.

A perfectly sound explanation, thought Micah, watching his friends standing calmly at the center of the fire. But it’s still magic.

Tal’s face showed no signs of her prior anger; she had slipped back into whatever mental state allowed her to guide the combined energies of twenty-three people. In the silence Micah settled himself against the wall, preparing for a wait. He prayed to Fahla that it wasn’t too long.

 

 

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Tal had no idea how long they’d been in this link. The effort of focusing so much power, and from such diverse sources, took every bit of her concentration. She had none left over to track time; for that matter, she had none left even to help Salomen search. If Salomen had ever had any doubts about the strength of her own talent, this would surely lay them to rest. She was single-handedly leading all of them, taking the energy Tal poured into her and flying all of their minds high over the southern continent, methodically eliminating one sector after another. It was painstaking work, with none of the pleasure they normally found in a Sharing. But it was also covering more ground in a single morning than an entire army of investigators could cover in a moon’s time. They were already at the midpoint of Pallea, and since this part of the continent was sparsely populated, they should be able to cover it quickly. Tal just hoped she had the strength to keep going. The first Sharing today hadn’t been nearly so taxing as this one, so she guessed they’d been in the link quite a bit longer.

The directed pattern of their flight suddenly shifted. Salomen was doubling back and dropping lower, taking a closer look at something. Since she’d done this two or three times before, Tal wearily waited for her to satisfy herself and move on. But now Salomen was circling, homing in, and the hope that blossomed in her mind touched every person in their link.

“Is it…?” Tal whispered.

“I don’t know…I think, maybe…oh, thank Fahla! It’s him! It’s him, oh, Herot…”

Salomen's emotions overwhelmed her, and she lost the concentration that had enabled her to guide their Shared search. Without a focused receptacle for the power she was channeling, Tal felt every bit of it turn back on her. A white-hot storm of energy roared through her, immobilizing her limbs and burning out her empathic senses in an agonizing flare. Her body flew backwards, crashing into Gehrain and the Guards behind him and sending three of them down in a pile with a stunned Tal on top. Still paralyzed, she could not even put her hands out to stop her fall. She rolled to the floor, landing at an awkward angle and fighting her sluggish lungs as she tried desperately to breathe.

“Andira!” Salomen was next to her, an arm around her back, her panicked breathing loud in Tal’s ears. “Fahla, I’m so sorry! Are you all right? Please, please be all right!”

Tal couldn’t answer. The empathic flashes she and Salomen had experienced were nothing compared to this. She wasn’t sure she’d ever move again.

“Everyone step back. Give her some air,” said Micah’s voice. Thank you, Micah, she thought, waiting for her head to shrink back to its normal size so she could lift it. At least now her lungs were working again.

“Micah, it’s my fault, I lost my focus for a shekking piptick and the whole thing exploded on her. Andira, I’m so sorry; please…”

The sheer terror in Salomen’s voice gave Tal the strength she needed. “I’m all right,” she said thickly, and tried to push herself up. Several pairs of hands pulled her into a sitting position, but her head was still too heavy. Cradling it in her hands, she said, “Damn, that hurt. Let’s not do that again.”

Salomen threw her arms around Tal, her body shaking with deep, wrenching sobs. “I’m sorry! I didn’t even think…”

Even through the throbbing in her skull, Tal knew this wasn’t just about her. “Shh, Salomen, I’m all right. Really.”

“Are y…you sure?” Salomen could barely get the words out.

“I’m sure.” With an enormous effort, she lifted her head and looked into her tyree’s streaming eyes. “But I have to tell you, that was the biggest shekking flash of all time.”

The laugh that came out of Salomen was barely distinguishable from the sobs. “Fahla, you scared ten cycles off the end of my life!” She laughed again, then cried a bit more as Tal rested her pounding head on Salomen’s shoulder. “I’m really sorry, Andira.”

“Don’t be. It’s all right.” The words sounded a bit untruthful given her current position, but Tal didn’t care. “Salomen, you found him. That’s the important thing.”

“I can’t believe it. Honestly, I didn’t think we would.”

“But you did.”

“We did.” The emotional overload was easing; Tal could hear it in her voice. “But I lost it. Andira, he was hurt and frightened. They’re hurting him.”

“That’s about to end.” Tal took a deep breath and straightened. The throbbing was starting to fade. “Do you remember where we were?”

“In general, yes, but we lost the link before I could really focus in on it.”

“Micah?”

“I’m right here.” He knelt beside her.

“We need a topographic map of central Pallea,” she told him. “Detail to one hundred paces.”

“I’ll have one here in two ticks. Anything else?”

“How about a new head?”

He smiled. “Sorry, my friend. You’ll have to make do with that one. But I can bring in some food and water if that would help.”

Come to think of it, she was starved. “What time is it?”

“Mid-two and twenty.”

“We’ve been in the link for three hanticks?” Great Goddess, no wonder she was tired. She looked up, seeing for the first time the ring of concerned faces around her. “You must all be ready to eat the practice mats in here.”

“Well, the black one was starting to look pretty good,” said Gehrain, causing a ripple of nervous laughter among the other Guards.

“Micah, while you’re getting the map, contact the kitchen and get a late midmeal sent down.” At his nod, she looked back at her Guards. “We’re taking a break. It’s far past time to eat, but we’ll have to make it fast. Hopefully, by the time we’ve gotten some food inside of us, I’ll have a normal sized head again and we can go back for another look. Now that we know where Herot is, we need to examine his location more closely. I want to know how many Alseans are there, what they’re feeling, and where they are in relation to Herot. I want all of you to pick up as much detail as you can, because we’re going on a mission. Herot will not be spending one more night as a hostage.”

 

 

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It was not going to be easy. Vellmar was thrilled. A cycle and a half of total boredom at Koneza, and now she was going on a covert rescue mission within a day of taking her new post! It simply did not get better than that.

She kept her enthusiasm carefully fronted. It wasn’t entirely appropriate given the circumstances, but she couldn’t help what she felt. On top of everything else, she’d been chosen for the penetration team because of her blade-handling skills, a perfect vindication against all the warriors who had ever looked down on her for having subpar accuracy with a disruptor.

Their second, more focused assessment of Herot Opah’s location had revealed three warriors in close proximity to him. By their placement they’d concluded that one was in a holding area with him while the other two were posted just outside. They had hovered as long as they dared, waiting to see what the nearest warrior was doing, but to the Guards’ dismay he did nothing at all. Afterward Vellmar had watched in sympathy as Lancer Tal had explained to her bondmate, as gently as she could, that there were only two reasons to place a warrior inside the holding area with a prisoner. One was to question or intimidate him, but this warrior had not done either. The other was to ensure the prisoner’s instant death in the event of a rescue attempt. Given the situation, Vellmar thought Raiz Opah had taken this news surprisingly well.

They’d found five other warriors in the near vicinity, most likely the second shift; and a careful examination of the surrounding area had revealed two additional guards posted at a perimeter. By checking their map they’d learned that both external guards were posted at high points in the topography, giving them good views of a large area. Parser was taking no chances with his valuable prisoner. Lancer Tal had commented that this was not surprising; her interview with the man had made it clear that he believed in covering all possible options. Though he’d never expected Herot to be found, he’d taken precautions just in case.

Their best option was immediately ruled out. They had the numbers and the firepower to simply overrun the building where Herot was being kept, but the threat to him made that impossible. Instead they would need to land their transport at a distance, hike in unseen and unheard, take out the two perimeter guards, and then send in an extraction team. Part of the team would disable the guards near Herot, while the others would take out the five guards off shift. The off-duty guards were spread throughout the building, which made coordinating the two parts of the mission difficult. The team members in charge of neutralizing the off shift warriors would not be able to act until Herot was secured, for fear of raising an alarm. Nor would any use of disruptors be possible until then; a single shot heard by any of Herot’s guards would result in his death. As the best blade handlers in the group, Lancer Tal and Vellmar were natural choices for the primary mission.

Vellmar stretched her legs out more comfortably as the coastline of Argolis passed beneath them. This was her first trip in the Lancer’s long distance transport, and what a luxury ride it was! The main cabin was enormous, effortlessly swallowing all of its passengers and their gear. She’d chosen a seat near the back, wanting to be away from the main group of Guards. Prior to all of her training missions, she had prepared by going to her place of serenity and clearing her mind of anything but the objective. Visualize success and achieve it—she’d had that drummed into her head from childhood, and it had served her well. Having a quiet physical location made it much easier.

She’d been surprised when Lancer Tal and Raiz Opah walked past her to sit in the very last seats; why weren’t they in their private cabin? A moment’s reflection produced the most likely answer: the Lancer did not want to remove herself from her team prior to the mission. She made a mental note to ask Gehrain about it later.

They’d been forced to put this mission together on an impossibly tight schedule, since the flight alone would eat up a significant amount of their available time. They had no real preparation time and no second chances. She tingled with excitement; never in her career had she been involved in something so important. This was what she’d trained for. And she felt very sorry for Varsi, who had missed out due to her resemblance in height and weight to Lancer Tal. With the right uniform and nanoscrubber drops altering her hair and eye color, Varsi could pass as the Lancer from a distance. Her part of the mission was to be seen around the corridors and grounds of the State House in case Parser’s spies were watching; the Lancer was taking no chances that her departure so close to the deadline might be noticed and acted upon. When Chief Counselor Aldirk arrived to escort Varsi, he’d looked her up and down and announced that she made a better Lancer Tal than Lancer Tal did, prompting the Lancer to comment that if she didn’t return, at least there would be no interruption in government. Vellmar had laughed along with the rest, but when she’d glanced at Raiz Opah, her amusement had ended. The producer was clearly not happy with her bondmate’s participation. She and the Lancer had been in a hushed conversation since the transport had crossed the mountains, and Vellmar could guess what it was about. When their voices suddenly rose in volume, her guess became a certainty.

“What more can I say to convince you? This is part of what I do!”

“You are the leader of our world! How can you risk yourself like this? It’s folly!” Vellmar blinked at the anger in Raiz Opah’s voice.

“Because I’m also the leader of my caste, and I don’t lead by staying safely behind a desk while others take the risk! Trust me, that’s not the way to earn the respect of the warriors.” Lancer Tal paused, then continued in a calmer tone. “Tyrina, I’ve trained all my life for missions like this, and I’ve successfully completed quite a few before now. Please give me some credit for being good at my job.”

“‘Good’ is not good enough, Andira. You expect too much from me. How am I supposed to sit here quietly while not one but two members of my family are in danger?” Raiz Opah lowered her voice, whispering forcefully, “You had better damn well be perfect.”

“I promise you that I will be.”

“You cannot make that promise.”

“Then what do you want me to do?” The Lancer’s voice rose again, and Vellmar could hear her exasperation. “You’re asking for assurances that you won’t believe!”

“I want you to stay here! You have twenty Guards on this shekking transport and only six of them are going in with you. Surely you can find someone among the other fourteen who can throw a Fahla-damned knife.”

Vellmar winced. She was embarrassed to be hearing such a private argument, but if she got up and moved now it would look too obvious. She slid lower in her seat and stared fixedly out the window.

“Thank you very much for your staggering estimation of my skills.”

“I’m sure your skills are just fine. I’m also sure that this transport is full of equally skilled Guards who have less to risk.”

“Equally—! Goddess above, Salomen! Do you have so little understanding of who I am?”

Vellmar heard a growl of utter frustration, followed by the rustle of a body moving.

“Where are you going?”

“To my cabin! Maybe I can get the mental space I need to not get myself killed there! Please do me the courtesy of giving me a little privacy. I cannot do this now, Salomen. I just can’t.”

A moment later Lancer Tal brushed past Vellmar, her anger showing in the stiffness of her bearing as she strode up the aisle. Vellmar watched out of the corner of her eye, trying not to appear as if she’d noticed anything. She sympathized with the Lancer; an argument like this was extremely detrimental to a warrior’s readiness. Raiz Opah was tough and strong, but she clearly did not understand her bondmate.

Several ticks passed as Raiz Opah shifted repeatedly in her seat. Vellmar wondered if she should go back and say something; perhaps she could help. But it wasn’t her place and she had no right to presume that level of intimacy. Then again, no one on this transport had that level of intimacy, so perhaps she should brave it after all. She went back and forth in her mental argument at least three times before the issue was taken out of her hands as Colonel Micah walked past her. The creak of a chair indicated his greater weight settling down.

“Are you all right?” he asked quietly.

“Not really.” Raiz Opah’s voice was strained. “Colonel Micah, can’t you talk sense into her? She doesn’t need to do this! I don’t understand why she’s insisting on it. It’s dangerous and unnecessary and it scares me halfway to my Return. And it’s not as if she can claim she doesn’t know what it’s doing to me. I’m sitting here terrified, and she’s angry with me!”

“Ah. You argued over her choice to lead the primary mission?”

“Why is she doing it? Why? It’s…it’s just foolhardy!”

There was a long pause.

“Salomen, I must ask you…did you say that to Tal?”

“No. Well, not like that.”

“What did you say?”

“I just pointed out the fact that there are many other people on this transport who could be going in instead of her.”

Another pause, and Vellmar could well imagine the Colonel stifling his groan. His front was not strong, and she could feel his dismay.

“What?” asked Raiz Opah. “What was so wrong about that? It’s true.”

“No, it’s not. And you offered her grave disrespect by saying it.”

“For Fahla’s sake, I did not disrespect her. I just—”

“Implied that she is no more accomplished or qualified to lead than any of the Guards who serve her. But worse than that, you told her that she’s not likely to succeed.”

“That is not what I meant.”

“But it’s what you told her. And it’s what she’s feeling from you, isn’t it? She feels your fear.”

“How am I supposed to not be afraid? I can’t hide that from her.”

“No, but you can tell her that despite your fear, you know she’s the best person for the mission and that she’s coming back to you. That’s what she needs to hear. No, please, listen to me. This is important, and your understanding may affect whether Tal walks out unscathed or not.”

There was a long pause.

“I’m listening,” said Raiz Opah.

“Thank you. Salomen, you’re a courageous woman, and I know that has been taxed to the limit recently. You have every right to be fearful. But you’re Tal’s bondmate, and that means you have a power no one has ever had until now. You can give her strength, or you can take it away. And right now that power is more important than anything you personally feel. If you let your fear for her overwhelm you, she’ll be handicapped at a time when she needs every advantage. She’ll be distracted by worry and the echoes of your fear, and that can easily mean her death.”

Though Raiz Opah's front never wavered, Vellmar knew the Colonel's words were hitting her hard.

“If you’re trying to frighten me even more, you’ve certainly succeeded.”

“In a way, I am. I need you to understand the power and responsibility you hold. And you need to understand who Tal is. You are not bonded to a scholar; you’re bonded to a warrior. And not just any warrior, but the leader of our caste. She did not attain that position by standing in the back of her unit while others earned the honor. She attained it by being out in front, every time. Sometimes her role as leader of Alsea is secondary to her role as leader of our caste, and this is one of those times. She must be out in front, Salomen. A warrior does not arrive at a point one day where earning honor is no longer necessary. We strive for it every day of our lives until the day we Return. She retains the respect of our caste only as long as she retains her reputation. And she cannot maintain that reputation by letting others take a risk that she is qualified to take.”

“With all due respect, Colonel Micah, that’s dokshin. She is the Lancer. That should never be less important than her caste role. She has a responsibility to the people of Alsea.”

“Yes, she does. A responsibility that she cannot carry out without the support and respect of her caste. If she were a scholar our caste would never expect her to take any risks. But she’s a warrior, so the expectations are different. We’re not a perfect caste by any means, and Fahla knows we have our quirks. We’ll overlook bad judgment and poor decisions—up to a point—but we will not overlook cowardice or dishonor. Tal understands that, and she knows the obligations of her role. She knows she has to do this or lose face in the eyes of her caste at a time when their support is critical. More than that, she wants to do this. We all do. There are quite a few Guards back in Blacksun who were crushed to be left behind. You must accept that this is part of her identity, the same way she accepts that your bond with Hol-Opah is part of yours. The question is not whether Tal should go. You need to set that aside. The only real question is whether you will help or hinder her, and right now you’re hindering her.”

Vellmar was impressed, not just with the Colonel’s argument but with the fact that he was speaking with such brutal honesty to the Bondlancer. Apparently there was someone on this transport who could presume a high level of intimacy with Raiz Opah.

“All right,” said Opah in a resigned tone. “I don’t like it, but I can see that I don’t have any choice.”

“No, you don’t. I’m sorry for that, and I could wish that you’d had much more time to learn and understand our code. You’ve been on a ride you never asked for, and I’ve had nothing but the deepest admiration and respect for how you’ve handled it so far. Truly, I could not have chosen a better bondmate for Tal.”

“Thank you. Though I don’t feel like a good bondmate at the moment. She’s up there in her cabin, still seething because of me. At least I understand a little better why she’s so upset. But I don’t know how to fix it. I cannot change my emotions, and I can’t front them from her.”

“But you can choose which emotions you give the most weight to. We’re two hanticks away from a difficult mission, and each of us prepares for that in our own way. I know how Tal prepares because I taught it to her. She imagines the mission, from every angle she can think of, with every possible variation. But every one of them ends in success. If one of her imaginings leads to failure, then she goes back and rethinks it until she figures out a way to make it end successfully. That’s what she’s doing right now, or would be if she could concentrate. But I suspect she’s having a hard time concentrating because she thinks you don’t believe in her. She thinks that you’re sure of her failure, because you told her she should send someone else in her place. And if she can’t visualize her success, then there’s a very good chance it won’t happen. So you need to tell her that you are sure she’ll succeed, and that she is the right person to lead the primary mission. She understands your fear. But she needs to be able to set it aside, and she can’t do that if she believes that your fear comes from a certainty of her failure.”

“Shek. You ask as much from me as she does.”

His voice was very gentle. “I ask only what the Bondlancer should give.”

After a pause, Raiz Opah spoke so softly that Vellmar could barely hear her.

“I’m just so tired of being afraid.”

Their whispers dropped even further, and Vellmar became aware that she was putting far too much effort into listening. It was one thing to be unable to avoid hearing, and another to actively intrude on someone’s privacy. Ashamed, she yanked her gear bag open and noisily rustled around in it before taking out a well-worn book. Opening it to her marker, she did her best to lose herself in the text. But she had barely read three pages before Raiz Opah walked past, her head high as she made her way to the other end of the main cabin. When she vanished through the door, Vellmar lowered her book and looked after her. Until now, it had never occurred to her how difficult it might be for members of other castes to understand her own.

A heavy hand on her shoulder nearly jolted her out of her seat. Colonel Micah looked down at her with a knowing expression. “And how are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m counting the ticks,” she said, trying to ignore her embarrassment. “And looking forward very much to watching Raiz Opah see her brother walk up the entry ramp.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “You and me both, Vellmar. Let’s make sure it happens.”

“Oh, it will,” she said confidently. “Lancer Tal is leading us.”

He smiled broadly, squeezed once more, and moved back to his seat.

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 50

 

 

Leaving Salomen in the transport was one of the hardest things Tal had ever done. Though the second part of their flight had been a great improvement over the first, she was still achingly aware of her tyree’s fear. She understood it better, thanks to the long talk they’d had in her cabin, but it was still a constant presence in her mind. The only way she could deal with it was by channeling it into a vision of Salomen seeing both her and Herot return. The thought of sensing such joy and relief in her tyree’s mind was a powerful motivator.

Two Guards stayed inside the transport with Salomen, in addition to Lead Pilot Thornlan. Four more were posted in a perimeter around the landing site, scanning for any approach. Thornlan was under strict instructions to evacuate if there was any danger of the transport being boarded; removing Salomen from the scene was Tal’s first priority. She’d made sure Salomen was nowhere in hearing range when she gave that order.

Her final preparation entailed pulling Salomen into her private cabin for a long, fervent warmron; the best possible attitude adjustment she could ever imagine. Just before she’d stepped out, Salomen had stopped her with a touch and said, “Come back to me.”

Two hanticks of hard hiking later, Tal was still unable to get the words or their staggering import out of her mind. This entire mission had the single objective of rescuing Herot, but Salomen had made her own priority very clear. She had not said “Bring Herot back to me.” Tal could barely wrap her brain around it, but what she was sensing from her tyree even now made it impossible to deny. She felt humbled and guilty about her initial angry response; shouldn’t she know Salomen better by now? Well, when this mission was over, she planned to make a point of demonstrating just how much she understood.

It had been a while since she’d hiked terrain this steep. Central Pallea was nothing but high ridges and narrow valleys, and they’d had to land two valleys away from Herot’s location to be certain that neither of the outlying guards would see or hear their transport. That meant a long slog through thick forest with a team of fourteen Guards, all in total silence. Losing the element of surprise was not an option. At least she knew they still held it; in her Sharing with Salomen right after the landing, they’d done a final assessment of the enemy and verified that none of the guards were alarmed. Their landing had not been detected, but that was just step one.

Though they were all in excellent physical condition, there wasn’t a single team member who didn’t breathe a sigh of relief when they finally made the top of the second ridgeline. Quietly they all settled onto the soft ground just this side of the summit, taking the opportunity for a well-earned break. Tal popped the mouthpiece of her water bag between her teeth and gratefully sucked down what seemed like half her supply. Unlike Blacksun Valley, central Pallea was hot and dry this time of the cycle. She was certain she weighed considerably less now than when she’d left the transport, and her damp uniform was palpable proof.

They were all wearing covert mission uniforms, which used nanotechnology built into the fabric to detect localized reflected light wavelengths and match them. Here in the deep forest, their uniforms blended in perfectly with the various shades of light and dark green. If they’d been in the plains near Koneza, their uniforms would reflect shades of silvery green and brown. The fabric was also effective at conducting moisture across a one-way differential, so the fact that she could feel any dampness at all meant she’d been sweating a great deal.

She gave everyone five ticks to rest and hydrate before motioning to her two optics teams to start the search. The forest gave them plenty of cover, but their enemy had the same advantage. Somewhere on this ridge, far to the left, one of Parser’s warriors was keeping watch. The other was on the ridge across from them. While the optics teams scanned for the outlying warriors, the rest of them studied the large, dilapidated domed building sitting in a clearing below.

“I see Parser spared no expense for housing,” Tal whispered to Micah. “That thing looks like it could fall on their heads at any moment.”

Micah nodded, still watching the building through his own scanner. “Not good,” he whispered back. “Old construction like that is going to make noise when we move through it. It will make this much more difficult.”

“Perhaps we should keep the secondary team outside until the primary team has secured Herot.”

He shook his head. “Too dangerous. The moment you start taking out guards, you elevate the risk of discovery. You don’t need five other warriors descending on you while you’re trying to get Herot out.” He paused. “Heat signatures show no change in their numbers. And there are no unusual animals inside.”

Tal nodded. Since heat scanners were in the toolboxes of most well-equipped warriors, a means of defeating them was a necessary defensive capability. The technology to completely conceal body heat had not yet been invented, so Alsean engineers had produced a method of redirecting it instead, packaging the system in a small powered unit that could be worn on a belt. Different models produced different heat signatures; and if by any chance the enemy guard on the next ridge focused a heat scanner on them, it would have revealed a herd of boren, grazing animals common to this terrain.

“Targeted,” came the whisper from her left. Tal looked up to see a Guard hand her optic scanner to her partner and speak into his ear. He nodded, raised the scanner to gaze at the opposite ridge, then nodded again. They packed the scanner away and looked silently at Tal, who pointed toward the ground and then made a fist. Take him out. Go. A moment later the two Guards had vanished without a sound. Theirs was the most difficult job of all: they had to get over to the opposite ridge as quickly and silently as possible, working through an area under constant observation. The primary and secondary extraction teams could not move until both outlying guards had been neutralized.

The guard on this ridge was more difficult to locate due to their near-parallel positions, but a slight curve of the topography gave them the angle they needed. As soon as the second team found the guard, Tal sent them on their way. She and the remaining ten Guards sat silently, watching and waiting.

Fifteen ticks later, a quiet click from Tal’s wristcom notified her that the nearest guard was neutralized. The team crossing the valley took another seven tenticks to accomplish their objective, no more than expected given the terrain. Nearly a hantick lost already, just to remove the two easiest guards. Tal looked up at the sun, already low in the sky, and shook her head. They were on schedule, and she had planned the operation for just after dusk, but she couldn’t help the feeling of a looming deadline.

She rose, drawing the eye of every Guard, and made an “O” shape with her fingers and thumb. We’re clear to proceed. In less than half a tick all eleven of them were over the ridge and moving silently downslope. They would be joined at the bottom by the other four Guards, who had been instructed to regroup just outside the clearing around the house. Their new job would be to guard the house and clearing, watching for any possible reinforcements or escapees once the real assault began. A second set of four Guards in Tal’s team would also remain outside the clearing, ready to storm the house once the primary extraction team was clear. To make that easier, they would wire the front door for a quick entry.

They arrived at the rendezvous point without any hindrance and paused to check their gear one more time. As anticipated, the sun was now below the ridge, drawing a lengthening shadow across the valley, but it wasn’t yet dark enough for Tal’s tastes. She was not about to lead six warriors across that clearing until she was sure they weren’t going to be instantly visible to anyone looking out a window.

As four of her team spread out to ring the perimeter, she centered herself and extended her senses, verifying Herot’s location now that she had the building in front of her. By coordinating her sight with her empathic senses, she now had a far better understanding of where Herot and the enemy guards were relative to the building’s layout. Of course, what they found on the inside could be different; no empathic senses could reveal the locations of doors and corridors. And if there were any guards in there who were skilled enough to hold perfect fronts, they would be entirely invisible to their senses. A heat scanner would take care of that problem, but the mission of the primary extraction team depended on speed and silence. They would not stop to use a scanner unless it was absolutely necessary. Besides, she did not expect that the warriors in this remote location would be so cautious as to constantly maintain a flawless front. Every one of her Guards, on the other hand, had been doing just that since coming off the ridge. Only Micah lacked the ability to maintain such a front indefinitely, but Gehrain had been chosen for his team for precisely that reason. He was strong enough to wrap his own front around Micah’s, keeping him invisible to the enemy. Their empathic stealth would enable both teams to move through the building while maintaining an invaluable advantage: they knew where their enemies were, yet were invisible themselves. Only a visual sighting would set off an alarm, which was highly unlikely when they were monitoring the enemy at all times.

The situation near Herot was unchanged; he still had one guard with him and two just outside. Of the other five guards, two were relaxing in a room upstairs—by their mood Tal guessed they’d just gotten off shift and were drinking—two were together on the opposite side of the building from Herot, and one was walking away from Herot’s location. He was fronting, but not well, and she could sense irritation and relief. She frowned. He had most likely just been relieved of duty, which meant that one of the guards with Herot was fresh and alert. Probably all three of them; the guards upstairs weren’t relaxed enough to have been drinking long.

Her wristcom vibrated, and she looked down to see a message from one of the Guards on the perimeter. Opah’s window boarded. No entry. She wasn’t surprised; she hadn’t expected it to be as easy as breaking the glass and killing Herot’s guard with one quick shot. That was why she and Vellmar had spent most of a hantick that day practicing their throwing. Not that Vellmar had needed it; the woman had extraordinary accuracy from the very first throw. But Tal hadn’t done much blade handling in the last moon except for a hantick here and there, when she found time to unwind with Micah. Still, it hadn’t taken long before her muscle memory kicked in. After that she and Vellmar had worked on coordinating their throws, which Tal had enjoyed despite the situation. Accurate throwing required a perfect bonding of brain with body, and there was something satisfying and almost poetic about the feeling it brought. She was reasonably certain, however, that Salomen wouldn’t find anything remotely poetic about it.

Choosing a first floor window on Herot’s side, Tal checked one more time to be sure that none of the guards were likely to be looking outside. Their emotions showed no sign of nervousness or alarm; none of them suspected the presence of an enemy force. But that could change in one piptick of any of them happened to be looking out a window when her warriors were exposed in the clearing.

At last the dusk had deepened enough for her to feel safe about the crossing. She held up her forefinger and thumb in an “L” shape and looked at each member of the two extraction teams in turn. Every one of them responded with a short nod, and she closed her hand into a fist. Let’s go.

Vellmar was right behind her as she ran to the window, with Senshalon hot on her heels. The largest of her Guards, Tal had chosen him specifically for his physical strength. The three of them flattened themselves against the wall, watching, sensing and waiting. Then Tal held up her fist, and Micah led his four-man team across the clearing to join them.

So far so good. Tal watched as Vellmar and Senshalon silently opened their packs. Vellmar scanned the window with a power-sensing unit and held up her hand, palm outward. The window was wired for an alarm. Taking four thumb-sized power routers from her pack, she attached one just outside each corner of the window, effectively routing the alarm’s power up and over the window before it continued on its normal path. She scanned again and nodded. Senshalon promptly pressed a large suction cup to the window and used a plasma pen to melt the glass in a thin line, drawing a person-sized square around the suction cup. The bottom cut was flush with the window frame, allowing for the easiest entry. With a soft expulsion of breath he lifted the glass section out and walked away, carefully leaning it against the wall several paces from the others. As soon as he had returned and shouldered his pack, Tal put her hands on the frame and silently hauled herself up.

She was facing a dark bedroom, sparsely furnished with a bed and desk. The bed was directly below the window, and she prayed that it would not creak when she stepped on it. Turning herself in the opening, she lowered her legs onto the bed and only gradually allowed her weight to settle, holding her breath. At last her full weight was on the mattress, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Carefully stepping off, she stood to the side and waited as Vellmar and Senshalon followed her in. When the bed did not creak even under Senshalon’s weight, she knew it would be fine for the rest. As soon as he stepped off she moved to the door. Micah would monitor his own team; this was where they split up.

The house was old and rural, its doors opening on hinges rather than power slides. Tal had anticipated that possibility, and quickly sprayed the hinges and latch with lubricant. It opened without a sound, revealing a curving hallway. Herot was being held down the hall to her right, toward the back side of the dome. She extended her senses, reading Herot’s guards in the same place and no others within a dangerous range. Holding her fist up, she opened the door all the way and stepped out, keeping to the wall to avoid any creaks.

Their progress was noiseless until they were halfway to Herot’s room, when Senshalon’s weight caused a floorboard to creak. To Tal’s sensitive ears, it sounded like a falling rock hitting a boulder. All three of them froze in place. Tal had been monitoring the three enemy guards with every step, and knew instantly that they’d been heard by the two outside. One of them was curious, but not enough to leave his post to investigate. Tal pointed at Senshalon and motioned him to go ahead of her. As he passed, she unsheathed one of her throwing blades, hearing a soft snick behind her as Vellmar pulled hers as well.

They made it another ten paces before Senshalon set off another floorboard. Once again all three of them froze, and this time the guard’s curiosity turned into suspicion. Voices indicated a short, irritable argument between him and his partner at the door; it sounded as if the suspicious guard was being accused of manufacturing a reason to leave his post. These two were bored with their duties.

With a final, sharp statement to the remaining guard, the suspicious one began moving toward them with no effort at stealth. Tal waited, expanding her senses to all of the guards in the house. This one hadn’t voiced an alarm yet; he wasn’t nearly suspicious enough. None of other guards seemed concerned, least of all the second one at Herot’s door. The ascendent emotion she emanated was pure annoyance.

Senshalon was standing three paces ahead of her, balanced on the balls of his feet and tensed for a sprint. Tal and Vellmar drew their arms back as the footsteps approached. As soon as Tal saw the first glimpse of the enemy guard she let her blade fly, seeing Vellmar’s arm flash down at the same moment. The guard came around the curve of the hall, saw them, widened his eyes, and died with one blade embedded in an eye socket and another in his throat. He did not utter a sound as he crumpled, nor could his last thoughts betray them. Tal had wrapped her own front around him, shutting off his surprise from detection by the others. Senshalon was already running toward him even as the knives had been released, just managing to catch him before he hit the floor. Lowering the guard noiselessly, he pulled out the knives, wiped them clean, and handed them back as Tal and Vellmar joined him. Tal readied her knife for another throw and centered herself. Focusing on the other guard at Herot’s door, she projected emotions and doubts onto her.

Curiosity. Where did he go?

She felt the guard’s reluctance to leave her post. She had her orders, and due to Tal’s forceful prevention of suspicion was not seeing any reason to override them yet.

Curiosity. Annoyance. No harm in leaving for a moment. Probably just a stupid joke. Idiot. She injected an expectant annoyance.

No harm. No harm. Just for a moment. Curiosity…annoyance…joke.

She felt the guard’s purpose tilt over the edge and reached out to nudge Vellmar. She could not release her empathic hold; this kill would be her Lead Guard’s.

They waited as she continued to project onto the guard, and before the woman even came fully into view Vellmar’s blade was in the air, followed almost instantly by a second. They struck in precisely the same locations as before. This time Senshalon was closer, managing to catch the dead guard while she was still standing straight up. He lowered her to the floor, pulled out the knives and returned them with a look of admiration. A few steps later and they were in view of Herot’s now unguarded door.

Tal reached into her vest pocket and pulled out a small device, remembering vividly the last time something like this had been used on her. She motioned Senshalon to one side of the door and Vellmar to the other while she stood directly in front, her thumb hovering over the activation button. Focusing once again, she projected emotions onto the guard inside.

What the shek…? Idiots. What are they doing out there? Irritation.

This one was more resistant than the woman; he was better trained and more highly skilled. Still, he was not a match for Tal. In fact, all three of these warriors were less skilled than she’d expected. They felt more like mercenaries than sworn warriors.

Sharpening her senses, she pressed harder. Irritation. Am I the only one who does my duty? Irritation…irritation…anger!

This time he responded; she readied herself as she heard him stomping toward them. A heavy footfall landed just inside the door as it was yanked open.

“What the—” He stopped, frozen, his body rigid under the assault of her immobilizer. They could not afford an attempt to kill him with a knife; since he was partially shielded behind a door, there was too much chance that he might get a single shot off before they could finish him. The only way to prevent that was to prevent him from moving at all. He thudded to the floor, his mouth open and eyes bulging. This time Senshalon could not stop the noise of his fall; the effects of an immobilizer passed easily through touch. And this was a lethal model.

Tal pushed the door open as far as she could—the guard’s body partly blocked it—and found Herot at a glance. He sat on a rumpled bed, his eyes wide with fear. “Lancer Tal!” he whispered too loudly. She shook her head and put a finger to her lips, knowing that Vellmar had wrapped her own front around him. Tal did not have the strength to deal with him, not while she was blocking the empathic energy of the dying guard.

This was by far the worst one. The other two guards had died instantly, but death by immobilizer was not so quick and a good deal more terrifying. The guard stared into her eyes, unable even to blink, desperate and panicked in a way that came not from the higher emotional center of the brain, but from the more primal core of instinct. Tal was buffeted by the sheer power of this deeper fear response, struggling to maintain her extended front under such an assault. It felt like she was committing the foulest kind of violation, denying him the chance to be empathically heard even in his final, dying burst of terror. This was one of the worst deaths imaginable, and the only way she could even slightly redeem it was to look into his eyes, giving him a connection with another Alsean as he felt his life draining away. At the last piptick his terror faded, replaced by another deeply instinctive response: the acknowledgment and acceptance of death. Then he was gone.

Tal closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she reached out for her tyree. It was impossible to absorb a death like that and not feel emotionally soiled. She needed to touch something more innocent, something far removed from the reality of what she had just done. Salomen was there, as always, and Tal knew she had some idea of what had just happened. But her support was unwavering, and her love was exactly what Tal needed most. Opening her eyes again, she met Herot’s gaze. For just a moment she saw his sister’s eyes looking out from his face, and smiled without thinking. But though the eye color was the same, the fear in them was not, and she snapped back to reality. Pocketing the immobilizer, she stepped across the guard’s body and helped Vellmar drag him into the room. Senshalon entered behind them and closed the door.

Tal immediately crossed to Herot and whispered, “Can you walk?”

He looked with horror from the dead guard to her face. His jaw worked for a moment before he answered, “No. I tried to escape two days ago and they broke my ankle. I can’t put any weight on it.”

Tal was not surprised. When Salomen had first sensed Herot’s pain, she’d suspected it might be from beatings that could result in a lack of mobility. It was another reason she’d chosen Senshalon. Herot’s face bore bruises and scrapes, but a cursory examination showed nothing in need of immediate medical attention.

“Anything else hurt?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No.”

Clearly he was lying; the stiff way he held himself indicated more bruising under his clothes. Tal respected his pride.

“He’ll carry you,” she whispered, pointing at Senshalon. “Do not make a single sound, do you understand? No matter what you see or hear.”

“I understand. But I can’t leave.”

She furrowed her brows, then followed his pointing finger downward. He was shackled to the bed with old-fashioned criminal cuffs and heavy cables.

“I see you managed to irritate these guards too,” she whispered, motioning Senshalon forward. She pointed to the cuffs, and her Guard immediately dropped his pack and pulled out the plasma pen. Herot watched in fascination as a blinding beam shot out from the pen, melting through the cables instantly. They didn’t have time to burn through the cuffs. Shouldering his pack once more, Senshalon gathered Herot and lifted him with no visible effort.

“Ready,” he whispered.

Tal expanded her senses and was relieved to feel no alarm on the part of the other guards. She raised her wristcom and tapped out a code. Target acquired. The secondary team was now free to use disruptors if necessary. It was going to get very noisy very soon.

She opened the door and led the way out. This time they didn’t worry about creaking floorboards, simply moving as quickly as they could back the way they’d come. Tal stayed out in front and Vellmar covered their rear, both of them constantly scanning for any approach. To Herot’s credit, he did not utter a sound as they passed the two dead guards in the corridor.

A shout shattered the silence, followed quickly by the sound of disruptor fire. None of it was near them, and they reached their destination without being seen. As they flattened themselves against the wall, well out of the way of the front door, she pushed the voice activation on her wristcom and barked, “Blow the door!”

With a deafening roar the door exploded inward, setting off an alarm that ripped apart the night. Two of her Guards leaped through the opening, disruptors at the ready. Two others began raining disruptor fire on every window in the front of the house, preventing any chance of an enemy warrior getting off a shot as Tal’s team sped out the gaping hole and across the clearing. As soon as Herot was in the cover of the woods Tal lifted her wristcom and called out, “Target is safe! Wrap them up!”

It was all over in a few ticks. Though the alarm still shrieked, the shouts and disruptor fire had gone quiet. The whole operation had gone like clockwork, and Tal allowed herself a sigh of relief. Time to get out of here.

“Unit leader to all teams. Check in.”

“Team green, two enemy dead upstairs. All clear.”

“Team red, two enemy captured, three dead downstairs. All clear.”

Tal waited, then frowned at the delay. “Team blue, check in.”

No response.

“Team blue, respond now.” She waited another five pipticks, but there was still no answer.

“Deactivate that shekking alarm!” she shouted to no one in particular, and two Guards scrambled to obey. “Teams green and red, stay put and wait for further instructions.” She pulled a heat scanner from her pack and snapped, “Who has the frequency locator?” Fear sparked at the base of her spine, but she refused to acknowledge it.

“Right here, Lancer.” Vellmar appeared in front of her, already scanning for the frequency signatures of both Micah and Gehrain’s wristcoms. She frowned. “I’m getting an intermittent signal. Not enough for coordinates.”

“And the heat scanner shows eleven bodies in the house,” said Tal. “We’re missing three.” She and Vellmar stared at each other.

“Basement,” they said simultaneously.

“Shek!” Tal swore. “Damn that Parser! Unit leader to teams,” she said into her wristcom. “We’re missing one enemy warrior, and possibly more that did not show up on our heat scans due to underground locations. Team blue may be in pursuit. Start looking for an access to a basement.” She thought furiously. Micah and Gehrain’s wristcoms were at least transmitting signals, so their basement location did not put them entirely out of range. The fact that she hadn’t heard even a broken attempt at reporting in did not bode well. She extended the range on her heat scanner and checked the surrounding area for anything suspicious, including large animals.

“You think there’s another entrance to the basement?” asked Vellmar, watching the results on Tal’s scanner. Her voice was loud in the sudden silence; the alarm had stopped at last.

“I’m almost certain of it,” said Tal. “The question is whether anyone has popped out of it. And it looks like the answer is no—so far.” She looked up at a circle of concerned faces. “Assume that we still have active enemies in the area and take no chances. Senshalon, you’re with me. Vellmar, you’re in charge out here. Stay on Opah with two others, put four on perimeter, and watch this heat scanner like a winden with a newborn.”

Vellmar immediately began organizing assignments, while Tal called Thornlan.

“Yes, Lancer,” came the instant reply.

“Get ready to transfer to my wristcom location. There’s room to land. Do not come until I give the word; we’re still securing the area. But you can tell Raiz Opah that her brother is safe. Call Aldirk right now; tell him to activate the second vid. And tell Colonel Razine that she is now free to act.”

“Confirmed. We’re waiting for your word.”

Tal made a sharp motion to Senshalon and jogged back across the clearing. She swore quietly as they crossed the threshold again; having to reenter the site of a covert mission was a sign of bad planning. Why hadn’t they thought of a basement?

Because we were in a rush and we don’t have basements on Argolis. That dokker Parser thinks of everything.

Then why didn’t he have Herot underground as well? We’d never have found him.

She couldn’t think of an answer. A few pipticks later she forgot the question.

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 51

 

 

By the time Micah’s team had gathered in the dark bedroom, Tal’s team was already out the door. Gehrain confirmed that none of the guards in the house were alarmed; everything was going according to plan.

If this house was like most, the staircase would be near the front door. They had entered to the right of it, as close to Herot’s location as they could safely get. Micah led his team out of the bedroom and turned left. They arrived at the staircase almost immediately, and he held up two fingers and pointed. Dewar and Nilsinian peeled off and began carefully ascending the stairs in lockstep, while Micah waited just long enough to be sure that no creaking steps would give them away. As he’d suspected, the old stairs protested the weight on them, but if any of Herot’s guards heard it, they apparently assumed it was from one of their own. Gehrain kept his hand in a fist, indicating that they were still undetected.

Nilsinian gained the second floor and waved behind him. Go on. Micah did not hesitate as he left his Guards to their work. He knew them well, and as far as he was concerned, the upstairs was already secured.

Their own targets were still separated. Two guards were together in one room, and a third was unmoving some distance away. Micah moved cautiously to the arch on the other side of the stairs and freed a tiny cambot from his belt pouch, sending it just around the corner. Watching the vid feed on his wristcom, he saw a living area furnished with old, hard chairs and a rug that looked ready to crumble. The room had an abandoned air; this wasn’t where the guards spent their time. Quickly he sent the cambot to the archway on the opposite side, where it revealed another curving corridor that most likely went around the back side of the dome. Two doors were immediately visible before the curvature of the hall hid the rest.

Micah and Gehrain crossed the living area and crouched against the wall, just beside their hovering cambot. Micah sent it into the corridor to peek through the first doorway, seeing an office crowded with dusty bookshelves and a large, dented wood desk. Two men sat in comfortable old chairs in front of the desk, which housed a pile of papers, an open bottle of spirits, and two mostly empty glasses. The men were speaking animatedly, and Micah quickly tapped his wristcom and held it to his ear.

“—getting tired of it. I think they may walk, money or no.”

“Yeah? I’m getting tired of their complaining. They try walking and they’ll see the wrong end of my disruptor. Does no one understand the significance of an oath anymore?”

“Shek, Burlone, none of us swore a damned oath. Except Culsander, and that man is insane. The money just isn’t enough for the kind of duty we’re pulling. For Fahla’s sake, we’re in the middle of shekking nowhere! Why are we killing ourselves guarding that little dokker? He’s not worth anything alive; I hear the Lancer wants him dead.”

“She doesn’t want him dead, you idiot, don’t you ever check your caste account? She put out a directive ordering him to be kept safe.”

“Well I have no idea why. If I were her I’d want him dead. Come to think of it, I want him dead anyway. He’s irritating the dokshin out of me. Damn little fantenshekken!”

The other man laughed. “Still upset about that nose, eh?”

“Shut the shek up.”

With another laugh, Burlone picked up the bottle and began refilling their glasses. Micah wished he could hear more, but they had no time. He pulled the bot out of the doorway and left it hovering just outside as he held up two fingers for Gehrain, then pointed at the arch and held up one. Two guards. First door.

Gehrain nodded and Micah sent the bot to the next door, which was closed. He dropped the bot all the way to the floor and extended a tiny tube beneath the door, sending back a picture that was small and difficult to make out. It was enough to rule out the room, however—it appeared to be an empty closet. The doorway after that showed their third guard, lying in bed and intently studying a card reader. Micah showed Gehrain the footage, then pointed at the arch and held up three fingers. Third door. As Gehrain nodded his understanding, Micah recalled the bot. Plucking it from the air, he returned it to its pouch and reached into a second pouch for a thin cable, transparent and nearly invisible. Wrapping one end of the cable around an adhesive peg, he attached it to the side of the archway less than two handspans above the ground. A second adhesive peg went on the other side of the arch, and he wound the cable tight before locking it down. Pulling out an immobilizer, he set it to wide dispersal and connected it to the tripline. His trap set, he and Gehrain put their backs against the wall on either side of the archway. Silently each of them drew a goodnight, a basic combat tool named for its ability to instantly knock an opponent unconscious. Goodnights were nothing more than a grip and a spring loaded shaft with a flat, weighted end, designed to disable without permanent damage.

They waited patiently, hearing the murmur of voices and an occasional laugh from the office. Micah didn’t need Gehrain’s senses to know that Tal’s team was operating undetected; these men had no idea that they were losing their hostage and their salaries even while they drank.

He was jerked out of his musings by the silent vibration of his wristcom. Target acquired. Still they waited. Unless it became absolutely necessary, none of his team were going to make a move before Tal’s team was out.

A shout sounded upstairs, followed instantly by disruptor fire. Nilsinian and Dewar had been seen.

“What the shek?” bellowed one of the men in the office. Micah heard chairs scraping as both men scrambled out; a moment later they barreled out the archway, flying over the tripline and sprawling paralyzed on the floor. Keeping clear of the immobilizer’s dispersal angle, Micah and Gehrain swung their goodnights and put both guards out of commission. Gehrain deactivated the immobilizer and jumped through the arch in pursuit of the last guard, while Micah pulled out tielocks and swiftly locked the wrists of the unconscious men. Even as he snapped the second one shut, the front door blew in and disruptor fire began tearing up the outside of the house. Tal had gotten Herot out quickly. He ignored the pandemonium, pulling his own disruptor and running after Gehrain.

“Colonel! Down here!”

Following Gehrain’s shout and the sound of weapons fire, he found a closet door standing open in the now-empty third room. But when he reached it he realized it wasn’t a closet—it was a wooden staircase leading down.

“Damn,” he muttered. They hadn’t considered a basement; Argolis construction never used them and they weren’t common on Pallea. There could be anything or anyone down here. He activated the voice control on his wristcom and opened his mouth to alert the unit, but a tremendous crash distracted him. A moment later a disruptor shot impacted the doorway over his head, sending debris raining onto him and knocking him off his feet. He fell several steps down the stairs before catching himself, and then had to throw himself the rest of the way down as disruptor fire tore chunks of dirt and rock from the wall where he’d just been. Picking himself up at the bottom, he dove under the staircase, taking the nearest cover available. “Micah to unit,” he said breathlessly into his wristcom. “There’s a basement access in the third room from the living area. We’re in pursuit—” The steps just over his head blew apart and he flattened himself to the dirt floor. Deciding that his unit knew enough for now, Micah concentrated on saving his skin and finding this damned guard. He pulled out his cambot and sent it airborne, looking to his wristcom for the video and sucking in a breath as he saw the damage to his arm. Between his uncontrolled descent of the stairs and the rock shrapnel flying around, he’d somehow managed to scrape a good portion of the skin off his arm, resulting in a bloody mess. That wasn’t the problem, however. The shattered and blackened screen of his wristcom worried him a good deal more. He was cut off from his unit.

“Gehrain!” he shouted. There was no answer, but his ears picked up the sound of someone running away from him, deeper into the dimly lit basement. Carefully he poked his head out, seeing a shape flitting away. It was too short to be Gehrain. He sent several shots after it, his aim hampered by the stairs, then scrambled out and went in pursuit. The guard stopped, turned and fired, and Micah dove to the side, returning fire from a crouch. There was no more cover available for either of them; what little there had been was back by the stairs, and the dim light made it impossible for Micah to shoot from a safer location.

The guard resumed his dash, running in an irregular zig-zag for the opposite wall of the basement, where a metal power panel reflected what little light there was. Micah noted the shiny newness of the panel compared to everything else in this house and made a snap decision. If it was important enough for this man to ignore disruptor fire, then it was important enough to be destroyed. Adjusting his aim, he sent a series of shots at the panel, blowing it out in a shower of sparks and metal shrapnel. With a scream of rage, the guard turned on the spot and fired. Micah pushed off, rolling away, but there was nowhere to go and the disruptor fire followed him faster than he could move. A searing heat ripped through his side, pushing his body backward, and he felt the sharp impact as his head hit the floor. Clenching his hand around his disruptor, he tried to lift it, but the weapon seemed to weigh far more than normal.

It doesn’t matter, he thought calmly. I can’t see anything anyway.

He heard running footsteps, the deep slam of a heavy door, and then nothing at all.

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 52

 

 

“Lancer Tal! Over here!”

Tal had barely gotten in the door before Nilsinian called her. She ran into the living area, pausing at the sight of two unconscious men lying facedown with their wrists bound behind them.

“We found the entrance,” said Nilsinian, turning to lead the way down the corridor. “Colonel Micah and Head Guardian Gehrain got those two, so we started looking here. We didn’t have to go very far.”

He jogged past an office scattered with papers and turned into a bedroom that showed signs of recent use. Rubble littered the floor near an inside door, and Tal stopped at the opening. Crashing sounds emanated from below. “Are the others already below?”

“Yes. It’s clear; no heat signatures except our own.” He paused. “Colonel Micah and Head Guardian Gehrain are injured. We don’t know how badly; the others just went down. I was just about to call you.”

Tal was halfway down the stairs before Nilsinian finished his last sentence. “Look out for the last few steps!” he called after her. She barely registered the destroyed steps with their sharp and blackened splinters, simply vaulting onto the floor from the last intact step above them. Now she could see the source of the crashing sounds; a Guard was pulling crates off a pile and throwing them to one side. As she ran over, a body came into view beneath them.

“Lancer Tal,” grunted the Guard, pulling off another crate. Now that she was close enough, she could see it was Corlander, one of the assault team who’d gone in after blowing the door. “Head Guardian Gehrain isn’t badly injured so far as we can tell. But you need to see Colonel Micah.” He threw the crate away and pointed into the dimness. Tal couldn’t even see what he was pointing at; the basement had sporadic lighting and the center of it was almost completely dark. Then she saw a flicker of light.

“Senshalon,” she said without turning, “help Corlander.”

“Yes, Lancer,” he said from behind her, but she was already running as fast as she dared across the floor. The flickering light became two beams from headbands worn by Dewar and Wellernal, Corlander’s partner. They were bent over a huddled mass on the ground, and Tal sprinted the last distance, skidding to a halt and dropping to her knees. “Oh, Fahla,” she breathed. “What happened?”

“We don’t know,” said Dewar, sealing the oxygenator she had placed over Micah’s nose and mouth. A slight hissing sounded as she activated it; the oxygenator was building up pressure. “But whoever did this is gone. And he didn’t come out the stairs.” The hissing stopped; satisfied, she dug into her pack.

Belatedly remembering her own headband, Tal pulled it from her pocket and slipped it on. Activating the light, she looked more closely at the wreck of Micah’s body. A disruptor hit to his right side had done horrific damage, tearing open his lower torso, hip and thigh. The dirt beneath him was wet with blood, and only after seeing it did Tal realize that the knees of her uniform pants were soaked. The blood loss was severe, and they were in the middle of nowhere. Tal wanted to deny what she was seeing; it was just so wrong for Micah to be hurt like this. He had as many scars as the rest of them, but he’d never been badly hurt before. She hadn’t thought it was possible. Not Micah.

Something soft thumped to the ground beside her. “Lancer Tal, I need to wrap him,” said Dewar gently.

Tal nodded and stood back, watching in helpless grief as her Guard unrolled the pressure sack. Dewar was their medic, and knew far better than any of them what needed to be done. She called Nilsinian over and fired off rapid instructions to both of her assistants. It would take all three of them to gently maneuver Micah’s body into the pressure sack, which would prevent additional blood loss and give them more time to get him into surgery. Tal was now a bystander, her main task that of staying out of the way. She should have been offended at the way Dewar had simply elbowed her aside—surely she could have helped get the pressure sack on as well as Nilsinian or Wellernal—but she couldn’t summon the emotional energy. Instead she felt sluggish and foggy, staring at Micah’s white face until she had to close her eyes against the sudden sting. Emphatically she told herself that he would not Return. It was not his time, Fahla damn it! They would get him to a healing center and the healers would take care of him and he would be back to normal. He had to be. She could not accept otherwise.

Healing center. Yes. She needed the transport. Tal felt the fog thinning, and with an enormous effort she pulled herself out of her stupor. Taking a few steps away, she quietly called Thornlan, ordering her to retrieve her perimeter Guards and make haste to the new landing coordinates. “We have a medical evacuation,” she finished. “Notify the Redmoon healing center; they’re the closest.”

“The new one or the old?” asked Thornlan, and Tal remembered that there were two now. The new one had opened its doors shortly after she’d begun her moon at Hol-Opah, a lifetime ago.

“Call them both and find out which is best equipped for a severe disruptor injury,” she said.

“Calling now. We’ll be there in five ticks.”

Her next call was to Vellmar, informing her of their medical situation and the transport arrival. “Get everyone onboard the moment that ramp hits the ground,” she said, watching the activity around Micah. “We need to be in the air as soon as possible.”

“Yes, Lancer.”

Wrenching her eyes away from the sight of Micah’s limp body being lifted and handled, Tal looked around. Why in Fahla’s name had he let himself get caught so far from cover?

Her eye was drawn to the blown-out power panel on the opposite wall. Walking over, she inspected the ruined contents. She didn’t think it was an accident that this panel had been hit. Beyond the melted and scorched area, the panel shone with the brightness of new metal; an aberration for the dusty old house.

“What were you doing, Micah?” she whispered. A metal tube led from the panel to the ceiling, where it branched and ran in both directions along the edge. Smaller tubes angled off at regular intervals, perpendicular to the main trunks. Clearly this was all carrying power somewhere, but where—and why? Her light showed a gridwork of power tubes overhead, with yet smaller diameter tubes branching off vertically and vanishing into the ceiling. She took a few steps away from the wall, shining her light over the grid. The gleaming metal spread out as far as she could see before vanishing into the dark. Turning in place, she looked at the panel once more, then played her light along the wall. Hidden in the dimness just a few paces away from the panel was something else that didn’t belong.

She strode to the metal door, reaching out with her senses and finding herself quickly blocked. At least she knew there was no one directly behind it. This had to be the other exit from the basement, and given her limited empathic reach, she guessed it led to a curving tunnel.

Carefully she pulled it open a crack and shone her light through. In contrast to the thick, heavy door, the tunnel behind it was narrow, rough-hewn and barely large enough for her own head to clear. Anyone taller would have to walk bent over. She was looking more closely at the oddly thick door when Senshalon walked up.

“Lancer Tal, Gehrain’s awake. He was just knocked out by the crates collapsing on top of him.” He looked down the tunnel. “Well, now we know where the last guard went.”

“Yes,” she said bitterly. “The dokker got away, and we don’t have time to chase him.” She walked toward Gehrain, adding under her breath, “For now.” Senshalon nodded before peeling off to join the group around Micah.

When she reached Gehrain he was rubbing his eyes, still lying on his back in the dirt and surrounded by crates. “Lancer Tal,” he said as she came into his view. “I’m sorry; I couldn’t get him. He was down the stairs before I even got through the door and I never could catch up.”

“You did your best,” she said. “None of us thought about a basement.”

“Senshalon wouldn’t tell me about Colonel Micah. Is it bad?”

“May I see him, Lancer?” asked Corlander.

“Go,” she said. “Dewar can probably use all the light she can get.” She crouched beside Gehrain and said gently, “It’s not good. Dewar is putting him in a pressure sack and we’re getting him to Redmoon as fast as Thornlan can fly. I’m just glad you weren’t seriously hurt. How do you feel?”

He rubbed his eyes again. “Fine except for the lights. I must have hit my head.”

“Your vision is affected?”

“I think so. I’m seeing pinpoints of light—wait a tick.” His gaze sharpened as he looked at her. “I’m not seeing them on you.” Looking straight up again, he said, “I’m seeing them up there.”

Tal followed his gaze and felt a chill run through her body. A small red light blinked at her, directly over Gehrain. Another blinked a few paces away, and now she could see several others in the ceiling around them, forming an incomplete grid.

“Spawn of a fantenshekken,” she breathed. “That’s where the power was going. It was another shekking trap!”

“What?” said Gehrain in confusion. “I’m sorry, my brain isn’t in full working order yet.”

“Micah’s was,” she said, glancing back at what she could see of him between the others. “He saved a lot of lives today. Can you stand up?”

“I think so.” He sat up carefully, then took her hand and allowed himself to be helped upright. “I’m fit,” he said.

Tal thought that might be an overstatement, but she wasn’t about to argue. “Everyone not needed for evacuating Micah, get out of this building now,” she shouted. On the other side of the basement she could see five light beams directed at her; the Guards by Micah were probably just as confused as Gehrain. She pointed upward and added, “The whole building is wired to blow. Micah managed to cut the power to most of the charges, but there are still a few operating.” And she didn’t think an attempt to cut the remaining power was something they wanted to chance; not with the panel already partially destroyed. “We have a missing enemy guard, and if he has a backup transmitter we could be in trouble. Move it!”

“Goddess above,” said Gehrain, staring upward. Tal heard a burst of voices at the other side of the basement, recognizing Dewar’s in the end. Two shapes left the huddle around Micah and began racing toward them.

Tal wrapped her arm around Gehrain’s waist and pulled his arm over her shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.” Corlander and Wellernal joined her as she led him to the stairs, wondering if she was making the right decision. The tunnel was undoubtedly the safer exit in terms of a potential explosion. But she had no idea what else—or who else—might lie in wait there. Or how long it was, or where it ended. No, better to count on the building staying intact for just a little longer.

She helped Gehrain past the damaged steps, passed him over to Corlander and Wellernal, and crouched down on the first intact stair. “Dewar, how close are you?” she called.

“We’re right behind you.” Out of the dimness Dewar, Nilsinian and Senshalon emerged, carrying Micah in a clasped-arm sling formation. “I would have preferred waiting for a stretcher from the transport, but…”

“I know,” said Tal. “We can’t afford to wait.” She reached out and took the weight of Micah’s upper body, backing up two steps until Dewar and Nilsinian climbed past the damaged section and retook their positions. As soon as Senshalon was on the stairs, she turned and hurried to the top. Kicking the rubble out of the way, she led her last Guards out of the bedroom and down the corridor, the back of her neck tingling with every step. Knowing what was right under her feet was disquieting, to say the least, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she emerged through the blown-out front door and saw blessed stars overhead.

The transport crouched in a nearly empty clearing; the only Alseans in sight were two Guards standing watch just beyond the ramp, and Vellmar racing toward them with a stretcher. “Put him on!” Vellmar said, speaking loudly over the roar of the transport engines as she laid the stretcher on the ground. “We’re ready to go as soon as we get him in.”

“Have you counted bodies? Do we have everyone?” Tal was taking no chances.

“You’re the last,” Vellmar answered, watching as the others gently lowered Micah onto the stretcher. “Our missing warrior never did appear. He must still be in the tunnel. Fahla only knows where it ends.”

“What I wouldn’t give to drop a shock charge down it,” Tal said darkly, and heard agreement from the others.

Several hands made short work of the security straps; the moment they were done Vellmar and Senshalon picked up the stretcher and flew toward the transport at a near-run, with the others in hot pursuit. Tal brought up the rear, and the last two Guards swung in behind her when she hit the ramp. They crowded into the main cabin, the roar of the engines fading to nothing as the door slid shut. Vellmar and Senshalon settled Micah’s stretcher on the lower equipment rack by the door; the moment they had it locked down, Tal called Thornlan.

“We’re all in,” she said shortly. “Get us to Redmoon.”

They were rising even as Thornlan responded. “Healer Graystone will be waiting for us at the new Redmoon healing center. Estimated flight time is twenty-three ticks.”

Dewar was crouching by the stretcher, holding a medical scanner against Micah’s wrist. “His blood pressure is low but stable; the pressure sack is working. But…” She looked up. “His pulse is erratic. Lancer Tal, I don’t know if he has twenty-three ticks.”

Tal had not taken her eyes off Micah from the moment she had come through the door. Under the bright lights of the transport, his condition was starkly clear, and she could feel the final wisps of denial evaporating. Instinctively she knew the truth of Dewar’s words; he was going to his Return even now.

“Then we’ll have to convince him that he does,” she said. In two steps she crossed the distance, settling on her knees next to Dewar. “He knows me, and he knows I won’t take no for an answer.”

Carefully she laid her hands on his energy points. It wasn’t a perfect match; the oxygenator made it impossible to get her hand in quite the right position on his cheek and jaw, and she was at the wrong angle for the ideal integration of their forehead ridges. But it was close enough. She leaned over, touching their foreheads together.

A warm, liquid darkness enveloped her; she was Sharing with a mind that was traversing the shadows between life and death. The first time she’d done this, back when she was a Lead Guard, the sensation had panicked her. It felt too much like dying, and she’d broken the connection almost immediately, breathing hard and shivering at the idea of going back in. Intellectually she knew that her body was whole and functional, but as soon as she’d connected with her injured Guard, her mind had become convinced that it was losing the body that sustained it. Sharing a second time had been one of the most difficult things she’d ever done.

She had learned a few things since then. Though the landscape of the shadows was far different from that of the conscious, it was not unsafe for a person with a strong mind and a clear understanding of her limits. Tal relaxed, not fighting the darkness, and let herself float upward. Where there was life, there was always a surface above which the darkness did not extend.

But Micah’s darkness was deep; deeper than she’d ever been before. It seemed as if she’d been floating forever, and she felt a moment of panic. What if he had completed his Return already? What if she was too late?

Even as she thought it, the darkness around her changed to a dim gray. This she recognized, and allowed herself to relax again. The moment she did so her journey upward increased its speed; the surroundings growing progressively lighter until finally, with an instinctive gasp, she broke into the light.

Micah. He was there, a tiny little piece of him that had not yet left. With a shuddering relief she embraced him. He was tired, so tired, but she had strength to spare. Stay, she thought, projecting it with all her might. Hold on.

He responded, his exhaustion easing slightly as he accepted the strength she offered. Though she felt herself growing weaker the moment he touched her, she would not let him go. I’m all right. Just hold on.

Vaguely she heard a murmur of voices, but it had nothing to do with her. That was elsewhere, in the conscious world. She could not be there right now. Micah was doubtful; he sensed her draining strength, and it was taking everything she had to convince him to stay.

Hold on.

Tal was confused. Who was that? Someone else was there, coming up through the darkness, sending an empathic plea to both of them that she had barely even registered.

Hold on. It was more powerful this time, and then a wonderfully familiar strength burst into the light.

I’m here. Hold on to me.

Tal reached out, her own weariness easing instantly at their touch, and Micah relaxed in their embrace.

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 53

 

 

Vellmar was startled at how quickly the transport appeared overhead; Thornlan must have flown it like it was on fire. As soon as the ramp extended she sent everyone in except the two Guards detailed for defense. Though she didn’t think it was necessary, their scanners having shown no one besides themselves in the area, she planned to err on the side of overcaution.

She felt Herot Opah’s mingled excitement and dread as he was carried up the ramp, and thought once again that it was odd having an almost completely unfronted person in their midst. Herot had very little skill and was broadcasting his emotions for all to sense. She understood now why Lancer Tal had instructed her to wrap her own front around him before they’d opened his door. If she hadn’t, every enemy guard in the house would have known the instant he laid eyes on the Lancer. The terror that had poured off him had taken her by surprise. Had he thought they were there to kill him?

He’d calmed somewhat while they were getting him out of the room, but the fear had returned as they’d passed the two dead guards in the hall, and she’d seen him looking at the Lancer with wide eyes. What did the man think, that they’d just walked in and asked politely for his release? Apparently it had never occurred to him that Lancer Tal was capable of killing, as if she were the leader of the warrior caste by virtue of her charm and exceptional baking skills. Herot and his sister must have come from two different planets; it was the only explanation.

Just as the last of her group cleared the ramp, three Guards burst out of the house, moving as fast as they could with Gehrain limping among them. Vellmar met them with her heart in her throat. “What’s wrong?” she demanded.

Gehrain waved the other two on. “Lancer Tal ordered us out. The whole house is wired to blow. They’re bringing up Colonel Micah now.”

“Shek!” Vellmar threw an arm around him and began helping him toward the transport. “Parker,” she growled into her wristcom, “where is that stretcher?”

“I’m almost out the door now.” True to his word, the young Guard appeared at the top of the ramp just as she got Gehrain to the bottom. He stepped aside to let Gehrain in, then handed her the stretcher. Vellmar pounded back down the ramp and ran for the house as quickly as she could; by the time she was halfway across the clearing, Lancer Tal emerged in front of three others carrying Colonel Micah. Despite knowing the severity of the Colonel’s injuries, Vellmar felt an enormous relief at the sight of them. It felt good just to have all of them in the same place.

But when she got a closer look as Dewar and the others secured him to the stretcher, her relief died a quick death. She’d seen her share of disruptor wounds during her training in Whitesun. It was a big city with a small but busy criminal underground, and no amount of weapons regulation laws could keep disruptors out of the hands of those who wanted them and had the cinteks to pay. The result had been more than a few high-speed escort trips to the health center; sometimes with one of her own warriors, usually with criminals. She’d learned that everyone bled the same, regardless of personal wealth or power, and with disruptor wounds they bled a lot. It was another reason she preferred blades: used properly, they were far less destructive.

Colonel Micah’s wound was a bad one, and it was obvious that he’d lost a great deal of blood before they’d wrapped him. She knew his chances of survival were not good, and could see in Lancer Tal’s eyes that she knew it as well. But they were all professionals with work still to do, and none of them spoke the words. Not until they had him in the transport and were en route to Redmoon, and Dewar said what all of them were afraid of.

“Lancer Tal, I don’t know if he has twenty-three ticks.”

Vellmar looked at the Lancer, still standing by the door and apparently unaware of Raiz Opah and Herot right behind her in the fore corridor. She seemed to have eyes only for the Colonel, and her expression was one of unyielding determination.

“Then we’ll have to convince him that he does.” She stepped to Dewar’s side and knelt, reaching out to touch the Colonel’s face. “He knows me, and he knows I won’t take no for an answer.”

But she wasn’t just touching him, Vellmar realized. She was lining up the energy points, and Vellmar gaped in astonishment as she lowered her head to complete the Sharing.

Sharing with a dying man? Was she insane? Vellmar looked at Gehrain, who seemed concerned but unsurprised. Then she bent down to Dewar and whispered, “Is that safe?”

Dewar was already pulling a second medical scanner from her pack. “Was anything about this mission safe?” she asked, holding the scanner to the Lancer’s exposed wrist. She swiveled her head back and forth, checking the two scanners.

Vellmar was about to request a more specific answer when Raiz Opah joined them. “Dear Goddess, I didn’t know it was this bad. I was hoping she was just reacting that way because it was Colonel Micah.”

“It’s not good.” Dewar didn’t take her eyes off the scanners. “I don’t know if she can hold him. She may not have enough time.”

Opah was watching the Lancer and the Colonel intently. “I didn’t even know this was possible. How can she Share if he’s not conscious?”

“Until the Return, everyone has some part of consciousness, even if we can’t see it on this side. She’s looking for it now.”

“How will we know when she’s found it?”

Dewar looked up at last. “We’ll know because her heart rate and blood pressure will start dropping.”

A dead silence fell over everyone within hearing range.

“Guard Dewar,” said Raiz Opah in a clear and too-precise voice, “Exactly what did you mean when you said Andira might not have enough time?”

Dewar had the same flawless front that all of them did, but Vellmar could see the nervousness on her face. She took a visible breath and said, “No one knows precisely how this procedure works. Somehow the connection of the minds translates to a connection of the bodies as well. Lancer Tal is using her own strength and health to bolster the Colonel’s. Theoretically, if she stays too long, she could drain herself past the point of recovery. But,” she hastened to add, “I’ve never heard of that happening. And the Lancer knows her limits.”

“Do you mean she’s done this before?” demanded Vellmar.

Dewar checked the scanners again. “Yes,” she said. “Once that I’ve personally witnessed, and apparently—”

A gasp from the Lancer startled all of them, and Vellmar saw her body stiffen sharply before slumping.

“She found him,” said Dewar. “His pulse is steady again.” She waited, watching his scanner. “And it’s slowly climbing.” Shifting her head, she checked the scanner she held against the Lancer’s wrist.

“Well?” Opah’s voice was preternaturally calm. “Is she sliding?”

Dewar nodded.

“Can you extrapolate the rate and predict whether she has enough time?”

Vellmar stared at Opah, startled. Brown eyes lifted to meet hers, and she saw the same expression in them that she’d seen in the Lancer’s just a few ticks ago.

“I think so,” said Dewar, and Opah’s eyes flicked back to her. “But I’ll need to watch the rate for another two ticks.”

Opah nodded and settled onto the floor beside the Lancer. She closed her eyes and visibly relaxed. Vellmar recognized the technique and knew exactly what she was planning.

Quietly she stepped around Dewar and sat next to Opah. “Do you know what you’re doing?” she whispered.

“No,” came the soft answer. “But I know I can’t sit here and do nothing. I’ve already done plenty of that this evening.”

Vellmar nodded even though the other woman could not see it. She glanced at Dewar, still reading the scanners, and tried to wait patiently.

“She’ll have to back out before we arrive,” said Dewar at last. “He’s drawing too much strength from her. But it might be enough; he may be able to hold on after that.”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Andira,” said Opah, her eyes now open and focused sharply on Dewar, “it’s that ‘mights’ and ‘maybes’ are unacceptable. Especially when it comes to someone she cares for. Do you have a third scanner?”

“No. Raiz Opah, I really cannot advise—”

“Then don’t. Tell me what to expect.”

Dewar looked at Vellmar helplessly; Vellmar could only shrug. “She’s the Bondlancer,” she said. “In reality, if not yet in name.”

“Thank you, Guard Vellmar,” said Opah without looking at her. “Guard Dewar?”

With a visible sigh, Dewar said, “I’ve never done it personally, but from what I’ve heard, it feels a lot like Returning. Your mind will automatically fight it, but the more you fight, the longer the journey takes. You’ll have to relax and accept what’s happening. Somewhere in there,” she gestured toward the Lancer and Colonel Micah, “you’ll find a light above the darkness. That’s where they are. He…may not want to stay. If it’s his time to Return, he’ll know it. You cannot hold him if that’s the case. But so far he’s staying with the Lancer, and that’s a good sign.”

“Salomen.”

They all looked up at the unexpected voice. Herot had hobbled over with the aid of a crutch, and stood looking down at them with fear etched in his face. “Please,” he said. “I just got you back. Please don’t go.”

Brother and sister stared at each other, and the occupants of the main cabin collectively held their breath.

“You’re here because all of these people risked their lives for you, Herot.” Opah’s voice was quiet, but sharp enough to cut glass. “I will not stand by and let one of them die if I can do something about it. And let me tell you this: if Colonel Micah goes to his Return, then you will have finally created a mess that you can never, ever clean up. Andira will never forgive you, and I cannot forgive anything that would hurt her so badly. So you had better pray.”

She turned away, ignoring the pulse of anguish that burst out of him, and gently brushed the Lancer’s bound hair aside. Laying one hand on the back of her neck, she reached out to rest the other over the Colonel’s heart. Her eyes closed.

Dewar looked worriedly at Vellmar. “I can’t do it all. Check her pulse. Tell me if it goes below thirty beats per tick.”

Vellmar hesitated, then gently pressed her fingers against Opah’s throat, searching for the pulse. Right about…here. She pressed harder to make contact, and felt a strong beat against her fingers. Holding up her wristcom, she began counting to establish the base rate. Eighty-four beats per tick; healthy and normal. She relaxed the pressure, watching Opah for signs of contact with the others.

Herot hovered over them, and though Vellmar tried to ignore him, she found his presence distracting and annoying. After a second check of Opah’s pulse, she turned to him and said, “I don’t think you’ve been officially informed yet. Herot Arrin Opah, you are in the custody of the Lancer’s Guards on the charge of direct enabling of an attempted assassination. You will be remanded to the Alsean Investigative Force upon our return to Blacksun. In the meantime, I suggest you sit down and get the shek out of our way.”

He nodded slowly and turned away, only to twist back as his sister gasped and stiffened. Vellmar immediately began a new count.

Already seventy-nine beats per tick. This was going to be a long trip.

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 54

 

 

Tal was tired; more tired than she could ever recall. Holding on to Micah and Salomen had become more instinct than active intent. Though time did not exist here, she knew enough from her state of exhaustion to understand that out there, in the conscious world, she was approaching the point of departure. She would either have to leave this place, or leave her body.

If Salomen is here with me, why would I want to go back?

It was a seductive thought. Back there lay responsibility and work and fear for Micah. Here it was…peaceful. And the two people she cared for most were right here with her.

She’d been in this link long enough now to view her pre-Sharing self as someone entirely removed from the present. That other Andira Tal was stressed, worried, and in fear for her closest friend. She was juggling too many things, dealing with too many betrayals, and scrambling to keep up with the latest threats to her title, her governance, and her loved ones. She was living a ridiculously stressful life compared to this quiet, comforting place. The greatest draw of that life were two very special people, and they were linked with her now, so what was left? It was so simple here.

Voices murmured in the distance, and she felt a jostling. Irritably she drew away, willing those who would disturb her to leave her alone. A small alarm sounded in her mind, telling her that she had gone too deep, but it was easy to ignore.

She floated in the link, her exhaustion giving way to a feeling of utter contentment. No, there was nothing left. It was too late anyway, wasn’t it?

The voices grew louder and the jostling more violent. Salomen responded with the same irritation that Tal had, but then something changed. Salomen was feeling—relieved? Relieved about what? Tal wondered about the odd emotion, her thoughts moving slowly as she drifted. And then Salomen let go.

No! Shocked into a moment of clarity, Tal reached out. Salomen!

But her tyree was already sinking, and Micah was pulling away. Everything had gone wrong.

Come. She felt the call as clearly as if Salomen had spoken the word. Then the voices broke in, the words taking shape.

“Lancer Tal, you must come back. We cannot move him until you do. Lancer Tal, please!”

At last her conscious mind processed it. They were in Redmoon. She was only here to hold Micah as long as necessary. That time was up; she wasn’t supposed to stay. This wasn’t her place…and Salomen had gone back.

Micah broke away from her and began to retreat. She had no other options; there was no way she could hold him in her current state if he wasn’t holding her as well. With her remaining strength, she sent him one last command.

Don’t go. Don’t you dare go.

She waited for a response, but felt nothing at all. There is no more time, her inner voice warned her. Turning away from Micah, she followed Salomen into the darkness. It closed around her, enveloping her in its soft weight, pushing her downward. Faster and faster she sank, too tired to slow herself down, and wondering how hard she would hit when the bottom arrived. Then she impacted her own body, her physical senses reeling with a sudden flood of input. So much light and noise, and Fahla, she was weak as a newborn child! As she slumped to the side several pairs of hands caught her, gently lifting and pulling her backwards until she was resting in something soft. Her eyes fluttered open in time to see Vellmar and Senshalon pick up Micah’s stretcher and vanish out the door. Dewar stayed, holding a medical scanner over first her wrist and then Salomen’s, who was in the seat next to her.

“You’re going to need a nap after that,” she said. “And I’d suggest you stay here for a few ticks before running after the colonel. Especially you, Lancer Tal. You went right up to the line.”

I went over the line, thought Tal, but she wasn’t about to admit that. Dewar did not need to know, and Salomen would take her apart if she realized it.

“I know,” she said instead. With considerable effort she lifted a heavy arm to rub her forehead; it ached where it had been pressed so long against Micah’s. “I’ve never had to go that far before. He’s…he’s ready to Return, Dewar. He only stayed because Salomen and I asked him to, and he pulled away just before I came out. I don’t know how long they have before he forgets about us.”

“He’s in the hands of the best trauma healer on Pallea,” said Dewar. “If there’s any chance at all, Healer Graystone will bring him back.”

Tal nodded, unwilling to verbalize her thoughts in front of anyone but Salomen. Several Guards were standing in the large space between the front row and the bulkhead, their faces showing the concern they were all fronting. She felt a bit awkward as Dewar pressed a skinspray against her wrist; she wasn’t accustomed to receiving treatment in front of her unit.

“That will help with the fatigue and the rubbery muscles,” said Dewar. She reached for Salomen’s arm and sprayed her as well. “But the best thing for you is a little sleep. Don’t fight it.”

“I promise that if a nap knocks on my door, I won’t argue,” said Tal. She looked into Salomen’s tired eyes. “Are you all right?”

“I think so.” Salomen was resting her head against the seat back, clearly unwilling to make the effort of lifting it. “I feel completely drained.”

“You are,” said Dewar. “It’s a good thing we weren’t any farther away than this. But the two of you kept Colonel Micah stable. Given the situation, we couldn’t have asked for better.”

Tal rolled her head from from side to side, stretching the kinks from her neck, and stopped when she saw who sat on the other side of her. One seat away, with a crutch leaned up against the hull, was the man who had caused all of this. A surge of anger energized her as their eyes met. Without breaking their gaze she pushed herself out of the seat and slowly walked to stand in front of him.

“Have you been informed of the charge?” she asked.

He nodded. “Lan—”

“Save it,” she interrupted. “You and I are going to have a long talk later. Until then I don’t want to hear a word out of you. Dewar, Nilsinian, escort the prisoner to the healers to get that ankle treated. I suspect he’s got a few other scrapes and bruises that may need looking at. Do not let him out of your sight. And Gehrain, go with them.” She saw the look on Gehrain’s face and raised an eyebrow at him. “That was not a suggestion. You need to get your head checked.”

“We’ve been saying that for a long time,” muttered Nilsinian, and the other Guards laughed. Tal recognized the humor for what it was.

“I know we’re all worried,” she said. “And we might as well worry in the healing center as here, so let’s go in there and frighten the natives.” A unit of Lancer’s Guards in full mission gear was guaranteed to do just that, but none of them had planned on a side excursion. They were fresh out of regular uniforms. “I want two Guards on our other guests and four on the transport perimeter. The rest of you can go. Choose your own. And Dewar, I want to know everything about Micah just as soon as you know it.”

“Of course,” said Dewar. She and Nilsinian helped Herot from his seat and flanked him as he hobbled out the door. Gehrain followed behind, still limping slightly.

In the absence of an order from her, the Guards discussed among themselves who would stay on watch. Parser’s warriors were still unconscious and would probably be considerably surprised to wake up and find themselves secured to seats in the Lancer’s transport. Tal looked forward to that; she had some questions to ask.

While the Guards set up a rotation schedule, she went to the pilot’s cabin and poked her head in. “Thornlan?”

The pilot turned around. “Twenty-one ticks,” she said. “I think I need to go out and apologize to my engines. Will he be all right?”

“We won’t know for a while; with that kind of injury the healers never say anything until they’re sure of the situation. Do you want a break? I’m staying here.” Regulations required at least one qualified pilot to remain in the transport whenever it was off base.

“I wouldn’t mind,” said Thornlan. “I could certainly use the chance to stretch my legs.”

“Then go. And thank you for getting us here so quickly.”

“Colonel Micah gave me this post.” Thornlan smiled at her. “Over someone’s objections, I heard. I owed him.”

“Sooner or later, everyone does,” said Tal. “And I have no idea whose objections you’re talking about. I’ve always thought you were the best pilot for the post.” She waved Thornlan out and followed her into the main cabin, which was now empty of all Guards except Corlander and Wellernal. As Thornlan went down the ramp, Tal stopped in front of Salomen and spoke to the Guards sitting in the back.

“I want to know the moment they come out of it. Even if I’m asleep. If you knock on my cabin door and don’t hear an answer, come in anyway.”

They exchanged glances. “Yes, Lancer,” said Wellernal.

“Don’t worry,” said Tal. “We’re too tired to be caught in any compromising positions.” It was only partially a joke; she could feel Salomen on the verge of more than just exhaustion. It had been a rough day for all of them.

“Wouldn’t you prefer to rest in my cabin?” she asked quietly.

Salomen held out a hand, allowing Tal to help her up and lead her the few steps into the private cabin. Shutting the door behind them, Tal wasted no time pulling her into a warmron. “Finally,” she murmured.

Still Salomen said nothing, simply holding her tightly. Tal did not dare release the hold she had on her own emotions; one of them hovering near a breakdown was enough. She projected what little calm she could, stroking Salomen’s hair and eventually letting go enough to kiss her throat, her jaw, and finally her lips. At last Salomen responded.

“I’m all right. Don’t worry.”

“Of course I’m going to worry. You’re never this quiet.”

That earned her a tiny smile. “Little do you know. I’ve been quiet for the last several hanticks.” Her smile vanished. “And terrified for you. Turns out I was afraid for the wrong person. I’m so sorry about Colonel Micah.”

Tal shook her head; she couldn’t talk about that yet. “Tyrina,” she said, “I need to change and make two quick calls. And when I’m done, you and I are going to sit here and just be alone for a while. Is that all right?”

Salomen nodded as she stepped back. “Do what you need to,” she said, sitting in the nearest chair at the conference table. Tal leaned down and kissed her again.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you too.” She looked more alert, and Tal could sense her control sliding back into place. Once again she was reminded just how strong her tyree really was.

Pulling a clean uniform from the clothing cupboard, she swiftly peeled off her mission clothes. The pants were the worst; Micah’s blood had dried, making the knees of her pants stiff and crusty. She felt sick as she pulled them off and threw them in the storage cupboard, and even worse when she saw how much of her skin was stained red. Wetting a cloth in the small sink, she scrubbed her legs ferociously before sliding on the clean pants. Remarkable, she thought, how something so simple as a fresh uniform could make her feel like a new woman. It also helped change her frame of mind from mission leader back to Lancer. There were a number of loose ends that needed tying up.

Salomen was watching her as she tucked in her shirt. “Now you look more like the Lancer I know,” she said. “You were a little intimidating in that mission uniform.”

“That wasn’t the design intent, but I’ll take any advantage I can get.” Tal walked over to kiss her again, then stepped past her and unlatched her fold-down desk, revealing a vidcom unit set into the bulkhead where it would be visible to anyone at the conference table. Quickly she pulled the chair from its recessed cubby and slid it into place, locking it out of habit even though the transport was on the ground. A few pipticks later she had Colonel Razine on the screen.

“Lancer Tal! I’m glad to hear from you. I presume from your message that you recovered Herot Opah.”

“Yes, we did. Do you have Parser back in custody?”

“Oh, yes,” said Razine, a rare smile lighting her face. “That was the most enjoyable thing I’ve been able to do all moon. He was not a happy man. He said the game was not over, but I think that was just grandstanding.”

Tal frowned. “Did you scan him?”

“There was no need.”

“Do it anyway. Ask him what he means about the game; I have a nasty feeling you’ll find too much confidence. We almost got caught in a trap where Herot was being held; Colonel Micah stopped it from killing half a dozen Guards. I’m on edge enough now to think Parser might have other traps set as well.”

Razine swore softly. “We underestimated him.”

“Not anymore. I want you to go to the High Court. We need a warrant for empathic force. I’m done playing that dokker’s games; he’s going to tell us everything.”

“I’ll be there first thing in the morning. Is your team all right?”

“No. We’re at Redmoon right now. Colonel Micah suffered a severe disruptor injury.”

“Oh, shek. I’m sorry, Lancer Tal.”

“So am I,” said Tal grimly. Saying it out loud made it harder to maintain her hold; she was getting angrier. “This is one case I’m going to speak for, Colonel. If my recommendation has anything to do with it, Parser’s going to have to dig up to find the fifth level of the pit.”

“Good.” Razine’s eyes were flinty. “I’ll give him a dull spade. Do you need anything in Redmoon?”

“Actually, yes. I don’t know how long we’ll be here, and I have three prisoners to offload—Herot Opah and two of Parser’s men. He called them warriors, but I don’t think they were sworn; they felt more like mercenaries to me. And as long as you’re flying a transport out here, all of my Guards need their regular uniforms. They’re not dressed for a healing center at the moment. Aldirk will send those to you.” She paused. “We didn’t get them all. The one who shot Micah got away, and with Micah’s injuries we couldn’t run the shekker down. So I want Parser’s men scanned and questioned and if they don’t give the right answers, I want warrants for empathic force on them, too.”

“I’ll take care of it,” said Razine. “The transport can be there in four hanticks.”

“Good. Contact the Redmoon base and have them send out an explosives team to the coordinates I’m sending you.” She quickly accessed the transport’s logs and tied in the record. “There are explosives wired directly into the basement ceiling of the house where Herot was being held. The entry to the basement is in the third room from the living area, left of the stairs. Tell them to be extremely careful; some of the lead lines are already carrying a ramp-up current. My guess is that they all were, before Micah destroyed the control box and most of the power tubes.”

Razine sucked in a breath. “That was the trap? How much of the basement is wired?”

“All of it. And it extends beneath the entire house.”

“Great Goddess.”

“I know. I think the warrior who got away was trying to blow the house. There’s a blast door built into the basement wall right by the panel controlling the charges. He must have put a delay into the fuse wires; he probably planned to set off the charges and be safely behind the door when the floor blew and the house dropped into the basement.” She paused as a memory flicked on in her mind. “Parser said Herot would be found dead and it would be blamed on my Guards. He said two of my Guards would be found dead as well. Now I’m wondering if this was his back up plan. If the warrior in charge of blowing the house had realized we were inside just a few ticks earlier, he could have blown it with Herot and six of my Guards inside—and me.” Tal felt a spike of fear from Salomen, and realized she hadn’t had time to share any of this with her. She shot Salomen an apologetic glance, meeting a pair of wide eyes.

“And most of Parser’s men as well,” said Razine, drawing Tal’s attention back. “Then Parser could flip the whole thing over and say his warriors died trying to rescue Herot from us.”

“Exactly. And I would have just made a worldwide announcement of his innocence in the corruption investigation, so his word would have carried more weight than it should. Not to mention the fact that everyone on Alsea already saw what looked like my Guards taking Herot out of the Napoline transport station on the afternoon news. Though I don’t think his plan included catching me as well. It was a lot of work to go to on the remote chance we’d find Herot, but Parser really did think of everything. He had back up plans for his back up plans, which is why I’m worried about him saying the game isn’t over.”

Razine whistled softly. “I don’t think we should wait for the High Court to convene at its normal time. I’ll send a message to the adjudicators to meet me at morn-seven; that way I should have a warrant in hand and be inside Parser’s brain before morn-eight.”

“Good.” Tal was thinking about the warrior who’d gotten away. “Tell the Redmoon team that we don’t know where the tunnel from the basement comes out. They shouldn’t start defusing that house until they’ve secured the tunnel. And they need to set up a signal jammer. If that warrior is still around and sees a team go in, he might just decide to find out if there are any charges still active.” She shook her head. “I have to hand it to him, it takes a lot of horns to knowingly live on top of a bomb—especially one where the ramp-up charge is already on. My skin was crawling for the few ticks that I knew about it. I couldn’t wait to get out.”

“That might also explain why he used a built-in panel instead of a radio control. He didn’t want any mistakes.”

“And clearly none of the other men knew about it. I’d imagine it might have raised some eyebrows if any of them found a mysterious radio control in his room.”

“Fahla,” said Razine. “What a mess. I’m beginning to think you were lucky to have only one injury.”

Tal winced at the growing anger she felt from Salomen. “I’m thinking the same. I need to make another call, Colonel Razine. Oh, one more thing. Tell the Redmoon team they’ll be collecting five bodies. And find out who that house belongs to.”

“Consider it done.”

“Thank you. Keep me apprised of anything you learn, the moment you learn it.”

“Of course.”

Tal signed off, looked at Salomen and held up a finger. “I know. I just need to make one more call.” She hurriedly punched in Aldirk’s code.

Her Chief Counselor informed her that the correct vid would be aired on the news broadcasts. “Even though I somehow did not receive notification until it was very nearly too late,” he said pointedly.

Tal almost smiled; no matter what else was going on in the world, Aldirk would always be Aldirk. “I sent word the moment I could,” she said. “We hadn’t even wrapped up the mission.”

He nodded, mollified. “Then I presume our delightful Herot Opah has rejoined your company. I’m glad for Raiz Opah.”

Tal raised an eyebrow. “Do I detect a favorable opinion of my bondmate?”

“Why would this surprise you?”

“Because she’s neither warrior nor scholar.”

Aldirk sniffed. “Most of us cannot choose our caste. For a producer she seems quite accomplished.”

Tal heard a snort behind her. “Believe me, she is. Aldirk, I need you to clear my calendar tomorrow. I’m going to be in Redmoon.”

He looked briefly horrified before schooling his features into his usual calm expression. “Lancer Tal, that’s not possible. I’ve already—”

“Do it,” she said. “Colonel Micah is seriously injured. I’m staying here.”

He stared, clearly astonished. “Colonel Micah? How badly?”

“I don’t know yet. He just went into surgery, and based on what I saw when we found him, we won’t hear anything for at least a hantick.” I hope. If we hear anything earlier it will be bad news.

“I’m truly sorry,” said Aldirk, and to Tal’s surprise he really seemed to mean it. “Is there anything else I can do?”

“Yes, there is.” She outlined her clothing needs, and Aldirk promised to send everything to Colonel Razine. At last Tal signed off and tensed for the next encounter. “Salomen, I know you’re angry, but please—”

“I’m not angry at you.” Salomen stepped over and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Parser, Herot, the man who hurt Colonel Micah, yes. But not you.”

“Thank Fahla,” said Tal in relief. She rested her head against Salomen’s waist, wrapping an arm around her hip and almost purring as light fingers stroked her neck. It took several ticks before she felt capable of saying anything more, and she wasn’t even certain where to begin. At the end, she supposed.

“Thank you for helping me with Micah,” she said. “If he lives, it will be because of you. I know for a fact I couldn’t have held him long enough.” She caught Salomen’s hand and kissed her wrist. “That took immense courage, tyrina. The first time I did that it scared me to death, and I’d had much more time to get used to the idea.”

Salomen reversed their hold and tugged on her hand. “Let’s sit over here.”

Willingly Tal rose and let herself be guided across the cabin, where they settled in the side-by-side reclining seats.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Salomen continued. “There was never a question about doing it; I was glad to be able to do anything at all. I have to admit it was frightening, but I knew you were there. That got me through the dark part.”

“Then you should know you jumped into a deep ocean. I’ve never gone after someone so far down the path of their Return. For a moment before I broke out, I really thought Micah was already gone.”

“Andira…” Salomen looked down at their clasped hands, then met Tal’s eyes again. “Why do you think he’s so ready to Return?”

Tal felt all the control she’d mustered slip right through her fingers, and the tears sprang to her eyes. “Because—” She stopped, took a shuddering breath, and finished, “Because this is what he wanted most. This is redemption. Not the kind I wanted or even imagined, but it’s redemption for him. He’ll have died on duty, with a disruptor in his hand, in the act of protecting me and my interests. There is no better death.”

“But wouldn’t he want to live now that he’s proved himself? You said it yourself, he saved himself and five other Guards. Isn’t that a better redemption than Returning?”

“I don’t know. He may not realize exactly what he did. We don’t know what happened down there.” To her horror, Tal felt a tear slip down her cheek. She looked away, swiping at it with her hand. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just—”

“Shh.” Salomen leaned in, kissing away a second tear. “Every one of these is an honor to him.”

“He cannot Return.” Tal couldn’t hold them back any longer. She dropped her head into her hands and let them fall, for the first time in many cycles. “He just can’t. I don’t know what I’ll do. There’s no one else…” Realizing what she’d just said, she raised her head, trying to ignore the tears streaming down her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“I know.” Salomen was soothing her with touch and emotion, and Tal closed her eyes in utter gratitude. “Stop apologizing, tyrina. You’re right, there is no one else in your life like Colonel Micah. If he Returns you will have lost family. You don’t need to apologize for loving him.”

“Thank you for understanding,” whispered Tal. “Thank you for being here.”

With a soft exhale, Salomen wrapped her in a warmron. “This is a dokshin trade, isn’t it? You gave me back my brother, and now it’s Colonel Micah in danger. I’m the one who’s sorry, believe me.”

Tal thought that if she’d had to choose, there would have been no trade at all. Micah was worth twenty Herots.

“I’d planned to be here for your reunion,” she said, wanting to change the subject.

“Such as it was. I kissed him on the cheek and told him that if he wasn’t already so bruised I would have slapped him right across the face.”

Tal pulled back in disbelief. “You really said that?”

“I would have done it.” Her fierce tone and expression left no doubt. “I’ve spent all day watching you and Colonel Micah and twenty others giving everything they had to pull his backside out of the fire. He has no idea, no idea what has been done for him. And there are five Alseans lying dead in that house because of him. I felt you kill one of them, and I know what that did to you. And then I saw Colonel Micah. I’m so angry with Herot that I can hardly even look at him.”

Tal couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped. Salomen watched her with a furrowed brow. “What in Fahla’s name is so funny?”

“You! Do you know that I spent the whole hike into that house thinking about your reunion? It was my motivating force, seeing you so happy. I was envisioning how relieved you’d be, and how joyful…and you told him you wanted to slap him across the face? I couldn’t have gotten it more wrong if I’d tried!” She laughed again, a great gulping sort of laughter that turned into tears as she shook her head, embarrassed to be so out of control. She knew it was just her body releasing tension; right now laughter and tears served the same purpose. That didn’t make it any easier.

“I wish I could feel that joyful,” said Salomen. “Before, all I wanted was to get him back safely. And now that he’s back I seem to have skipped right past the relieved stage and straight into anger. I’m furious with him, Andira.”

Salomen’s emotion helped Tal get control of hers. She took a deep breath and reined herself in, feeling a little less stressed and a little more normal. Wiping her wet cheeks, she said, “Not that I ever want to defend him, because frankly I’d like to knock him out the transport door myself. But Parser said Jaros was his original target. It would have happened anyway, Salomen. This much of it is not Herot’s fault.” Even as she spoke she realized the truth of it. Herot carried a great deal of blame, but he couldn’t be blamed for Micah.

“But Parser couldn’t have used Jaros for anything other than a hostage. He couldn’t have threatened you with political annihilation the way he did with Herot. And that is Herot’s fault.” Salomen sighed. “I don’t know what to think anymore. And Herot is a changed man; I’ve never felt him so…subdued. He doesn’t have that edge of arrogance and entitlement that drove me so insane.”

“Herot had no idea what was in the world beyond the borders of Hol-Opah and Granelle. He got hit with a large dose of reality and found out how small he really is. That usually does change a person. And…” Tal hesitated.

“And what?”

“You should probably know this anyway. That warrior you felt me kill? Herot saw it. All of it. And he saw two other dead bodies on the way out. So I think he’s learned more about the world than even I could have wished. He looked absolutely terrified when I killed the guard in his room.”

“Then maybe he’ll think twice before talking big in a tavern about how easy it would be to kill you,” said Salomen sharply.

Tal stared at her in astonishment. That was not the response she’d expected.

“What?” asked Salomen. “You thought I’d be horrified that my innocent brother saw death? I would have, a nineday ago. But everything has changed since then. Herot lost the right to innocence the moment he told Cullom Bilsner which window to shoot at.” She tightened her jaw. “But he did not have the right to take away my innocence at the same time.”

Her voice caught on the last words, and Tal’s heart ached in response. She pulled her into a warmron, but Salomen was still speaking even as she rested her head against Tal’s shoulder. “I’ve learned more about the world than I wanted to as well.”

The guilt was hard to bear. Part of Salomen’s loss was due to her, much as Tal would have liked to blame Herot for all of it. “I’d protect you against it if I could,” she said, stroking her back.

“I know you would. But you cannot.”

Tal closed her eyes. Not anymore. It’s far too late for that.

“And stop feeling guilty, for Fahla’s sake.” Salomen lifted her head again. “What I lost to Herot, he took. What I’ve lost to you, I gave. There is an ocean of difference between the two.”

A tiny smile tugged at Tal’s lips. “Sometimes you’re so far ahead of me that the best I can do is simply hold you.”

“Perfect,” said Salomen softly. “That’s all I need.”

They held each other in silence, their bodies gradually relaxing, and Tal thought that no matter how difficult things might be outside her cabin door, here there was peace, simply from having Salomen in her arms. She normally felt divided six different ways, even on a good day—and today was not a good one—but Salomen did not divide her. Quite the contrary.

“You are so strong,” she whispered. “So strong. I’m in awe of you. You may have lost some innocence, but you have gained so much inner strength. Perhaps one had to make room for the other.”

“Perhaps.” Salomen sighed. “I was just remembering how afraid I was when I first understood what was happening between you and me. But the truth is, you’re the one who should have been afraid. My family has caused you so much pain. And now there’s Colonel Micah.”

“Don’t say that. Herot is only one member of your family; the others have given me more than I ever dreamed of. And even Herot may surprise us.”

“I still want to slap him.”

“Me too. Let’s take care of that right after our nap.” Tal’s body was feeling heavy.

“Are you as tired as I am?” murmured Salomen.

“More, I think.”

“Shall we take Dewar’s advice?”

“Only if we don’t move from here.” Keeping one arm around Salomen, Tal reached out with the other for the seat control, pressing both keypads simultaneously. The chairs reclined to a horizontal position, and Salomen snuggled against her.

“This feels good,” she said sleepily. “Somebody will wake us up when they know about Colonel Micah, won’t they?”

“Yes.” Tal remembered the prisoners and guessed they’d probably be awake first. Well, she’d take what she could get. She nuzzled Salomen’s head and kissed her, then let herself relax. Not three ticks later they were both asleep.

 

 

 

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