“We’re about ready,” Ryman said as he came up. “My people and yours are scouring the building, rounding up what’s left of Ily’s people and evacuating prisoners. Still no sign of her.” Ryman squinted out at the city. “I’d hate the thought of her slipping away.”
Mac stared around the blasted rooftop. “Yeah, me too. That woman is just plain malignant. Listen, we don’t want this building blown.”
Ryman lifted an eyebrow, the action pulling the scar on his cheek.
Mac nodded. “Ryman, when this is all over, we want the records. Ily has a network that stretches all over the Empire. We want to be able to stamp every trace of it out. Her Ministry is a relic of Empire we can do without.”
Ark grunted something noncommittal. “I imagine the Lord Commander would concur with that.” Ryman paused, hearing something on his comm. “They just stepped out of the lift in Ily’s quarters. I have to go make sure everything is prepared for the Wing Commander.”
Mac nodded, watching Ark stride up the ramp. Should I have told Staffa who I was bringing up? It might have been a kindness, a way to prepare him. At the same time, the admission would have meant Mac’s tenure as Chrysla’s champion had come to an end. “And, Chrysla, I’m not that strong.”
MacRuder strolled obliviously across Ily’s roof, preoccupied by the tragedy that was about to befall him. He saw them step out of the lift tube. Sinklar came first, wearing smudged overalls, squinting in the bright light.
As their eyes met, Mac opened his arms. Sink grabbed him, pounding his back as he whooped and tried to crush his friend. “Now who was trapped down in the darkness?”
Mac grinned crookedly as his troubled heart swelled. “You’ll notice I didn’t leave you for as long.” His smile fell as he looked at Skyla, who stumbled wearily, an arm around a blonde woman and an STU’s shoulders.
“The Wing Commander needs to be warmed up, kept quiet,” Sinklar said.
Mac pointed at the Companions’ assault craft. “Put her in there. Ark has a special setup.” Then he turned to Sink. “You ready? We’ve got a conference aboard Chrysla ASAP. Who’s the blonde lady?”
Sinklar gave Mac a sidelong glance. “A good friend. Her name is Anatolia Daviura.” Sinklar jerked his head toward the assault craft. “What’s with all this? What’s been happening?”
“We have to go dicker the terms of surrender.” Sinklar stiffened. “Surrender?”
‘ ‘Here’s all that I know.” Mac jabbed a finger at the sky. “Staffa’s fleet is up there. He’s got something called Countermeasures which can jam all our communications. Our ships are defenseless and under his guns. Down here in the dirt we have roughly seven ‘loyal’ Divisions, and not a rat’s chance in hell to deploy them into any kind of an offensive formation. To put it in the best possible perspective, if the first shot is fired-we’re dead.”
“That bad, huh?”
Mac nodded. “Knowing you, you can pull something out of it, but I don’t know if we could win in the end. Staffa wants to talk,,so let’s talk. If it all falls apart, we’ll make it up as we go. Meanwhile, it doesn’t hurt to discuss the situation.”
Sinklar ground his teeth. “He’s aligned with the Seddi. “
Mac didn’t bat an eye. “You haven’t heard the worst yet.
“Oh?” “You’d better talk to him. He’s your father. Whoa! Don’t look at me that way. Not only that, your mother, Chrysla Marie Attenasio, is alive.”
Sinklar’s mismatched eyes narrowed skeptically. “Are you sure?”
“I’d better be. She just entered that Companion assault craft. “
The smooth ramp might have led up into the gaping mouth of a beast instead of an assault ship. Sinklar placed each foot on the incline with care, feeling the rough surface through his soft shoes. The pounding in his breast matched the sudden sweating of his palms.
“Go on,” Mac chided, from behind. “She’s a delightful lady. You could have done a lot worse for a mother. “ Sinklar stopped, seeing the first seats. “How do you know, Mac? I mean, she’s the woman in the holo Staffa showed us, right? Maybe it’s another Arta version.”
“Sorry, pal. I chased down that path myself and caught my tail in the process. Will you hurry up!” Sinklar nerved himself, striding up the last of the
ramp and into the ship. The place smelled fresh, the upholstered seats clean, and every surface had been padded or covered with contoured molding. A knot of people huddled in the back, Anatolia’s calm voice dominating.
“There, that’s it. Good. Keep her warm. Someone needs to stay and talk to her.
“I will. “
Sinklar’s nerves hummed. He knew that voice. It echoed in his dreams powered by hatred and murder. Arta Fera. You killed Gretta. Robbed my life of warmth and companionship.
Mac jabbed a finger into his back, propelling him forward.
Ark emerged, a grim look in his eye. As he passed, he said, “Get strapped in. We’re going up.”
People melted into seats, Anatolia standing from where she bent over a med unit. -The other woman, back to Sinklar, had familiar auburn hair, and a tooattractive body.
Anatolia noticed him, noticed his expression, and approached warily. “You all right? We’d better get strapped in. Marie is going to .... “
Sinklar couldn’t tear his gaze away as the woman settled herself in the seat next to the med unit, talking in soothing tones to Skyla. Sinklar felt the ship tremble as thrust built. Even over the roar, he heard her say: “Skyla, I’m not Arta Fera. She’s a clone. I’m your friend. It’s important that you know that. The Mytol will help you understand.”
At that moment she raised her haunted amber eyes, and time seemed to cease. Chrysla straightened, a’disbelieving frown etching her forehead as her other hand reached out, the fingers slightly curled: a saint reaching for atonement.
“You ... you’re Chrysla?” The words choked him. Her control failed, a thousand emotions playing across her face. “S-Sinklar. That’s what they called you?”
He nodded as words fled.
Anatolia pulled Sinklar down just before the assault craft tilted its nose heavenward and g pushed him back in the seat.
“Sink? What’s wrong?”
“Chrysla,” he whispered, craning to see her, to understand the mixture of reactions that brewed inside. Arta’s hatred gleamed in his memory, but these amber eyes-so similar, yet so different.
Sinklar forced his stare away, seeing Mac watching with a misery of his own.
“Sinklar?” Anatolia asked firmly. “What’s wrong?” “My ... mother.” He choked out the admission. “And. . . “ How do you say this? He clamped his eyes closed. “I’ll know the truth ... if she’s from Ashtan.
“We’re on the way up,” Ark’s terse voice erupted from comm.
Staffa thumbed the controls that folded the instrument clusters to one side and rose from the command chair. Chrysla’s bridge hummed with activity as the specialists manned their stations, some speaking confidently into their headsets. The monitors surrounding the domed ceiling displayed different views of the planet and the cities dirtside. Others showed the Regan fleet through the targeting comm’s perspective, firing solutions gleaming in fluorescent numbers.
“Pilot, you have the helm.”
“Affirmative,” Lynette called through the ship’s systems.
“Lord Commander?” the Comm First called, “We’ve got a vessel moving outsystem and it’s ... never mind. We’ve got a friendly reading. Scrub that.”
Staffa turned back toward the hatch, “Keep your eyes open.” She’s coming. Ily, may the quanta help you if you harmed her.
He slapped the hatch control and charged into the corridor, taking the bridge
lift for the lock where Ark would dock his craft. As the lift sped Staffa out toward the hull, he whispered like a litany, “Be all right, Skyla. Please. I need you.”
The long anguish was coming to an end, only to be crushed by another catastrophe. “Is that the price? Skyla for human
ity?”
He stepped out of the lift as it slowed and raced anxiously out into the foyer. Several armed personnel waited along the walls to ensure no trouble would ensue.
Staffa clasped his hands behind him, a battleground for hope and despair. Hope that Skyla would be well, greeting him with the old chipper smile, a hard glint in her blue eyes, despair from the devastating reality that with the latest Sassan, earthquake, no hope remained for humanity. Both systems were gone nowthe ultimate joke of the quanta.
You fool, Staffa! You’ve killed them all. He paced angrily, muscles knotted and jumping. If it hadn’t been for Ily stepping up the timetable.... But then, how did a person lay blame? Could it be charged against Ily? Why not against Staffa, for creating the situation in the first place? Why not against MacRuder for blasting Sassa, or Sinklar for sending him? Or against Bruen for instigating war on Targa?
“We live in chaos, Staffa. You might as well blame a siva root farmer on Malbourne for growing the meal that was shipped to the Praetor and providing the bit of energy that sparked his idea to create you.”
The quanta laughed.
“One day, God, the energy that is me will be returned to you. And when that happens, I hope you learn a bitter lesson from what I have to teach you, for it is defeat. “
How long? He glanced at his chronometer and took a deep breath to still his charged body. Defeat had finally come. The old enigma, the one that had haunted him from the beginning, had been held off by his cunning and daring. I’ve never lost a battle-until today when I should have won the most important.
Everything had come crashing down. “I failed.”
The welling desolation receded as the proximity light flashed, and a roar carried through the hull. A screeching sounded, followed by a thump.
The lock could be heard hissing, the status light going from red to green. Staffa stood, muscles flexing, as the heavy door swung back.
Ark, true to form, appeared first, checking swiftly to see that nothing was amiss, then stepping out. He saluted and said, “I’ve ordered Skyla evacuated first. I’ll keep my people around the Regans. They’ve been disarmed and scanned.”
“Thank you.” Staffa caught sight of the gleaming white hull of the med unit as four STU people guided it out on antigrav. He walked forward then, frightened of what he would find. Heart in throat, he looked down as the unit stopped before him, and stared into those eyes that had worried him so much.
“Skyla? Are you all right?” The grip of the Mytol gleamed in her dilated eyes.
“Things happened, Staffa. I...I.....Tears began to leak down the side of her face.
“I don’t care,” he told her, dropping to his knees to cradle her head. “Whatever happened, we’ll handle it ... together. You and “. love you, you know. “
“Knew you’d come. Knew you’d find me in the end.
I love you, too.” Her eyes closed. “Sorry ... sorry. Tired. Need to rest.”
He clasped her hand in his, walking alongside as the STO started the unit forward. At Ark’s interrupting cough, he halted, glancing back, seeing MacRuder, Fist, a blonde woman and....Frozen in time, Staffa gaped, an eerie prickling running up his spine. Dazed, he shook his head, but she stepped forward, those eyes out of his memory meeting his levelly. Only the slight limp defied the twenty lonely years.
“How.... Who.
She reached up, her soft fingers resting lightly on the side of his face. Then she melted into his arms as if it had been but yesterday that they parted on that long-gone station docking ring.
“You’re ... alive?”
“I’m alive.” She pushed back, smiling up at him. “But you’ve changed. Had I been Fera, she’d have had you.”
“I ... but.
Chrysla laughed. “I’ve missed you. Time and experience have done what I started. You’re looking good, Staffa.”
“You escaped Pylos?” He grabbed her hands in his, savoring their feel. “The Praetor ... he told me I’d killed you!”
“You saved me. Only you could frighten him to such an extent that his attention to security slipped.” The warm worship lit her eyes again. “I knew you’d come eventually.”
He pulled her to him again, running fingers through her soft hair. “For twenty years, I mourned. For twenty years I took my pain out on the universe.”
“What happened, Staffa? Did you find the traps the Praetor laid?”
“Yes. And I found myself. And Skyla......He closed his eyes. “It’s all right,” Chrysla whispered. “She’s been hurt-badly. Not her body, but her mind and soul. She’s going to need you. All of you. “ At his questioning glance, she added, “We’ll figure it all out later. For the moment, Staffa, just hold me.”
“You look like hell,” Sinklar shot a hard look at Mac as Staffa disengaged from Chrysla.
Mac stood stiffly, a wretched expression on his face. “Nothing that won’t pass with a little time. You’re not looking so grand yourself.”
“She’s really my mother? That means he’s.
“Your father?” Anatolia asked, lifting a pale eyebrow. She studied Staffa with greater interest. “Blessed Gods, that means. . . .”
“Want to ask to take a sample?” Sinklar asked dryly.
“You bet your ass I would!”
“So what’s he going to do?” Mac growled. “Keep em both?”
“Relax,” Sinklar warned, and scrutinized Mac in greater detail. Where did the hostility ... Rotted Gods!
Staffa smiled down at Chrysla and, holding her hand, stepped forward, a dazed insecurity in his expression. Those unsettled gray eyes pinned Sinklar’s, probing, and, yes, frightened. ,
Staffa frowned, as if trying to find a place to start. “It seems that we’re in trouble. Not just Rega ... or Sassa, but all of humankind.”
Sinklar mustered his thoughts, crossing his arms. “Lord Commander, just what are your plans for Rega? Right now, we’re at a bit of a disadvantage as a result of Ily’s machinations.”
The hard frost settled in Staffa’s gaze. “Sinklar, did you have anything to do with Ily’s abduction of Skyla?”
Sinklar shook his head, his own foundations suddenly shaky. “I thought she was infiltrating an agent into the Seddi organization. When I heard she’d taken the Wing Commander, well, that. . . .” Come on, Sinklar. He ground his teeth, hating the memory-hating
having to even talk about it. Bad enough to have been a dupe-but to admit to it? And to this man?
Anatolia spoke up levelly. “Ily Takka played a lot of people for fools, Lord Commander. How much so is probably best forgotten for the time being.”
Staffa gave Anatolia a quizzical look, and a hint of an understanding smile touched his lips. When his gaze returned to Sinklar, it had hardened again. “In other words-and correct me if I’m wrong-she ruined the timetable. “
Sinklar’s fists began to knot, and Staffa smiled again. “It’s all right, Sinklar. The war’s over. For everyone. “
“That remains to be seen.”
Staffa lowered his eyes. “Unfortunately, sir, that’s the only thing that’s certain. Sassa is broken.” The Lord Commander glanced uneasily at Mac. “Your strike pushed their production and redistribution past critical mass. The Legate was able to implement a stopgap, but it depended upon Regan resources to avoid famine and systems failure.”
“Sassan problems are not mine,” Sinklar reminded. Staffa let go of Chrysla’s hand, and waved as if to include the universe. “That entire Empire out there is now your problem. This morning I destroyed your ability to administer your Empire. Comm is gone. The Ministry of Economics, production, agriculture, all gone.”
“Why?” Mac cried, stepping forward.
Staffa’s gaze narrowed. “Because Sassan administration was so much more effective than the Regan version-and a lot less susceptible to fraud, graft, and corruption. Do you see, Mac? With the Regan Empire effectively decapitated, we would have simply inserted another head and gone about the business of feeding everyone.
Staffa rubbed his hands together, staring at the polished deck plating. “Your brilliance and Mac’s has a lasting legacy. When Markelos impacted, she released enough energy to destabilize the tectonic plates. I got a transmission from Myles this morning. The Capitol, including the giant computer complex which would have run Free Space, is rubble.”
“Which means no head.” Sinklar understood the implications immediately. “And that means the only way to feed starving people is by raiding other people. And from there, the whole system decays exponentially.”
“Why?” Mac asked. “Why unite the empires?” Staffa smiled sadly. “Because the enemy isn’t Sassan or Regan. It’s out there. The Forbidden Borders. I wanted to break the walls of the final trap, Mac. For that, I needed the combined resources of all of Free Space. If we break the bottle, we’ll break the shackles that bind us for all time.”
“Itreata makes computers.” Mac cried. “You make the best! Make more!”
Staffa chuckled. “But the detailed software was centered in Sassa and Rega. You don’t think my people wrote all that, do you? People like the Legate took the preliminary programs and modified them over time, eliminating the bugs, improving for greater efficiency. When that started to happen about ten years ago, I let them do the work for me. “
“Not exactly tactical brilliance,” Sinklar goaded. “Neither was listening to Ily,” Staffa countered. Chrysla shot him a reproving glare.
Sinklar bristled, propping his hands on hips. “What do you want from us, Lord Commander? We’re here to see if we can make a deal that saves bloodshed. “
Staffa clasped his hands behind his back, considering. “I want an end to the fighting-throughout Free Space. I need people willing to cooperate in keeping the peace and searching for an answer to the threat of extinction. “
“In other words,” Anatolia suggested, “you want allies?”
“Exactly.” Staffa reached out. “Will you join me, Sinklar? I need your help now. I need your brilliance.” “And the Seddi?” Sinklar asked.
“Make your own peace with Kaylla-as I have made mine.”
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