Thieves of Light

by Michael Hudson

  "Do you know, I'm good at this," Bhodi said to Pike after slicing a half-second off his time in the ten-target speed test.

  "Yes, you are," Pike agreed. "How does it feel?"

  "It feels good. Except there's something wrong."

  "What's that?"

  "Well-it's too easy. They're not shooting back, for one thing. Which means I'm standing here flat-footed, something that'll never happen in combat."

  "Very true," Pike agreed. "And I've been waiting for you to say something about it."

  The next day, Bhodi was brought to a second gunnery arena, adjacent to and the same size as but outfitted very differently than the firing range. The arena floor was broken up by waist-high sand-colored walls into dozens of trenchlike boxes of assorted sizes.

  "The dueling range," Pike said. Halfway across the arena, a claw-fingered, four-armed monster rose up from behind one of the walls and pointed a pistol in Bhodi's direction. "Your opponent."

  Bhodi stared. He remembered the creature from Li-hon's presentation on board Fraanic. "Not real, I take it."

  "A simulacrum. But programmed with the fighting reflexes of the real thing, as best we know them from our combat recordings."

  "Does it have a name?"

  "Around here we call it Warriarr-double 'r' on the end, a little pun. What the species calls itself we don't know. We've never captured one. We've never even recovered a body." Pike paused. "But then, that's true of most of the species that make up the Arrian Alliance. Anyway, these beasties are the ones we run up against most often."

  "Cheerful thought."

  Pike shrugged. "I'd rather fight Warri than the Bugs or the Dogs."

  Bhodi had little trouble deciding which species Pike was referring to. The squat canyon-jawed Dogs and bulging-eyed Bugs had stayed in his mind as vividly as the Warri. "Why?"

  "The Bugs are faster than Warri, and awfully good shots. And the Dogs are just plain tough. They keep coming long after you think they should have gone down."

  "How do you match up when you run into all three at once?"

  "Happily, the Arrians don't mix it up much. There's no telling whether it's a racial thing-pride or prejudice-a problem of discipline, even something religious. Maybe the Bugs think the Dogs smell bad, and vice versa. Anyway, more than half the Arr squads are made up wholly of Warri. The rest are usually all one species, plus a Warri commander and maybe a Dog."

  "So the Warri run the show."

  Pike nodded. "There's even some thought in the Intelligence branch that the Warlord of Arr is Warri."

  "It would seem to make sense, considering," Bhodi agreed.

  "Whoever the Warlord is, I hope he never wises up and starts sending out mixed squads. Right now, our battlefield organization is one of our big edges. In pure size and strength, the Qeth are the only Guardians who match up with a Warri, a Bug, a Dog, or a Destructor. And the Celtans are the only allies who match up in toughness. Hell, the Warri don't even wear any armor in combat."

  Shaking his head in disbelief, Bhodi asked, "How can battlefield organization overcome that?"

  "Because it takes advantage of our advantages. We're faster-even I can outrun anything but a Dog. And we're more versatile. Like I told you before, we're all different. We all have things we do better than anyone else. It's a good team-a good platoon-or at least it was."

  "Was?"

  "I don't know what we are, now. We haven't fought as a platoon in three months-just pairs. Me and the kid, Tivia and Lord B."

  "Why?"

  "I guess because Li-hon's not ready to take us out again. Do you know how casualties go in the Force? A platoon can go six months or a year without losing anyone. Then somebody goes down and it seems like you'll lose a replacement or two and another regular before you find the fighting sync again. That's why he wants you, Bhodi. He thinks you're the missing piece that will pull us back together." Pike gestured toward the simulacrum. "Ready to find out how you match up?"

  Bhodi undipped his Allison. "Sure."

  "Then put your helmet on," Pike said. "Warriarr's weapon is real."

  The dueling range's deadly game of hide-and-seek had two objectives. Once you had your enemy located, you tried to keep him from moving. Once you had him pinned down, you tried to keep him neutralized. Ideally, you maintained enough fire superiority to be able to keep your head up and the whole contested area in view.

  In that kind of pop-up, snap-shot combat, it was difficult to take out your opponent. Unless Bhodi froze while exposed, his helmet would keep a head shot from being a killing shot, though he could be temporarily blinded by the dazzle if he took one in the faceplate. And Warriarr's single ailette, projecting up from his right shoulder like a metallic wing, made a perfect head shield when he turned sideways to the line of fire.

  In the first minute, Bhodi learned that he was quicker than Warriarr. If he was already up when Warriarr poked his head above the wall, Bhodi could usually duck down before the simulacrum got off anything other than a blind prayer shot. Or Bhodi could stay up and try to burn some energy around or through Warriarr's ailette to his unprotected skull.

  The danger for Bhodi was when Warriarr would stay up, letting Bhodi hold target harmlessly on the ailette, and then return fire left-handed around the edge of the shield, like a counter-punching boxer. Warriarr fried Bhodi's faceplate twice before Bhodi learned to pull off of the shield and pop a blast inside the little angle formed by the edge of the ailette and the wall, right under Warriarr's pointed chin.

  It was a tough shot, but when Bhodi could make it work, it invariably sent Warriarr ducking for cover, giving Bhodi the heads-up advantage. It also seemed to make Warriarr angry. After Bhodi's first chin shot, Warriarr disappeared momentarily, then rose up to his full height, offering Bhodi a free shot at his whole torso-if Bhodi cared to face the murderous crossfire from the twin pistols Warriarr held in both his lower hands.

  Bhodi declined the offer, retreating hastily behind his own wall to reconsider his options. What was it I told David? The best cover is cover you don't depend on for too long — He didn't know if he was allowed or expected to do what he was considering. But then again, Pike didn't hand out any list of dos and don'ts -

  The moment there was an interruption in the laser fire raking the top of the wall, Bhodi sprang up and dove forward over the wall into the next trench. Scrambling along on hands and knees, he went as far to the right as he could.

  He paused there a moment, listening, wondering where Warriarr was and where the simulacrum thought he was. A peek would tell him the first, but the price might be betraying the second. And if he was going to expose himself, he wanted to gain something for it. Tensing his muscles, he drove himself upward and forward over another wall.

  In mid-dive, he caught a glimpse of Warriarr. Warriarr likewise caught a glimpse of him. Laser fire blazed overhead as Bhodi hit the floor, making the material of the walls sizzle and pop. Bhodi ignored the angry noises and scooted to the left as fast as he could. When he ran out of trench, he went for his Allison. Praying that he had the angle, he rose up, the Allison blazing away.

  His first shot caught Warriarr on his unprotected right lower shoulder blade, just below the crisscross straps that held the ailette and two sheathed throwing knives. It was not a critical area, but as Warriarr turned in surprise-and perhaps in pain-Bhodi caught him full in the face with a shot that he held until Warriarr toppled over backward and disappeared.

  Vaulting the walls like a hurdler now rather than a high jumper, Bhodi approached the "corpse" cautiously.

  "Well done," a voice said from behind.

  Bhodi turned. It was Pike, reentering from the observer's booth.

  His face still a blank, Bhodi looked back to the inert form of the simulacrum. Then a broad grin spread across his face as he holstered the Allison.

  "Yeah," he said happily, more to himself than to Pike. "Well done."

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  To Bhodi's disappointment, two days later his gunnery work w
as unexpectedly interrupted when Pike and Parcival were called away on a mission. Their departure was so abrupt that Pike left Bhodi no assignments and made no arrangements for him to continue his work in the combat gunnery center.

  "Sorry," Haj said with a shrug. "There's one reservation in advance, for tomorrow in the firing range. I can let you have that, since your instructor made the request. But a challenger alone has to wait in line behind all the other instructors for training time, and I can tell you right now that someone's going to snap up the slots Ferthewillihan was using."

  "The firing range? There must be some mistake," Bhodi protested. "I'm way past that. What about the maze room? That's where I really need to be."

  Haj shook his head. "Impossible. The maze room is fully scheduled-and I would not be responsible for placing you in it without proper preparation in any case."

  "Why? What goes on there?"

  The training supervisor frowned. "If Ferthewillihan told you about the maze room, I don't understand why he didn't explain its purpose."

  "I didn't hear about it from Pike. I heard about it from another challenger, down at the gunnery center." Seeing Haj's look of disapproval, Bhodi added, "I wasn't snooping. He was scheduled to go in that afternoon and was nervous. Made him chatty."

  Haj regarded Bhodi sternly. "Challengers are to discuss their training only with their instructors. Each program is unique, and all that can come out of comparing one with another is confusion."

  Scanning down a list on his display, Haj continued, "I see that you were next scheduled to work with Parcival on field maintenance of arms and equipment. I am reluctant to seek a substitute for Ferthewillihan unless that becomes absolutely necessary. But as you haven't begun working with Parcival, I could possibly seek a replacement among the other Guardians on-station-"

  "No," Bhodi said quickly.

  "Very well. I understand your preference to take instruction from within the platoon-"

  That was not it at all. Bhodi did not want to be sidetracked into the kind of tedious detail that "field maintenance" promised to include, especially in light of whom he had been scheduled to study with. But Bhodi said nothing to correct the misimpression.

  "What I would suggest is that you approach Tivia about some supervised practice. Ja-Nin is a discipline, not a tool. It needs your constant attention, and I'm afraid you have been neglecting it in your enthusiasm for gunnery."

  "No to that, too."

  "What?"

  "Look, let's be straight," Bhodi said. "I know that that's not what Li-hon wants me for."

  "Why do you think that?"

  Bhodi realized belatedly that he was in danger of putting Pike in dutch with the training supervisor, and he tried his best to cover up. "Look, it's just obvious that's not my role on the team. I'll never be good enough to take on a Destructor or a Dog hand-to-hand. And what even Tivia would do against six limbs is something I'd like to know. So why should I spin my wheels over Ja-Nin when I could be sharpening up on what I am good at?"

  "Is that how you see it?" Haj asked stiffly.

  "Yeah."

  "Then I suggest you speak to Sergeant Li-hon about your problem," Haj said. "Perhaps he will be able to find a solution."

  "Can he get me into the maze room?"

  "Li-hon is the most respected instructor of strategy and tactics in the entire Force, as well as the most senior," Haj said in a curiously emotionless voice. "As such he may request priority time in any training facility for any of his students."

  "Which means me, right? He's my sergeant, so he must be my S amp;T instructor."

  "He is when he says he is. It's customary for a challenger to master all other disciplines before beginning his study of strategy and tactics. I doubt very much that Li-hon will find reason to make an exception in your case."

  "But he could, right? So I will go talk to him."

  "Do that," Haj said. "I am sure he will have interesting things to say."

  The great lizard lay curled on his side in the corner of the room, cushioned by the shredded padding of his nest.

  "Nar-lex-ko-li-hon."

  He blinked in the darkness of his quarters. "Yes, First Guardian?"

  "There is a problem-"

  Li-hon sighed. "A new problem or an old problem?"

  "A new problem which concerns an old problem."

  "That would be Bhodi Li."

  "Yes. Haj-til-ko-van has submitted a supervisor's recommendation for peremptory dismissal. It is most strongly worded. He said the boy is completely unfit for further training. He blames Pike."

  Li-hon struggled to a sitting position. "Let me see the rec."

  A full wall of the chamber flashed into light. Li-hon quickly scanned the symbols projected there. "Haj is too harsh," he pronounced. "Pike did what was necessary."

  "It is beyond refutation that humans lack discipline and motivation. In that Bhodi has proved himself no exception. Is there not now enough reason to think that it is Parcival who is the exception, and give up the effort to find warriors among the human population?"

  "They show more than enough motivation when they know the reason why," Li-hon disputed.

  "And hasn't Bhodi Li been told of the Arrian menace? Is he ignorant of the threat to his homeworld?"

  "The threat is still not real to him. He still thinks that he will somehow be safer going home."

  "Then the problem is an immature mind. He is unable to grasp a need greater than his own."

  "Yes. But that, at least, is open to change."

  "Then you intend to dispute Haj-til-ko-van's recommendation?"

  "Yes. Please record it."

  "Haj-til-ko-van will be displeased."

  "That doesn't matter. Not to me, anyway."

  "You understand that this makes you a partner in Bhodi Li's challenge."

  "In my mind, I always was," Li-hon said. "Where is Bhodi now?"

  "En route to see you. Now in Corridor Gold, Section Yellow, about two minutes away."

  "Can you delay him until I get out? This conversation will go better in the platoon room than here. And that way I won't have to make a scene about being disturbed in my quarters."

  "I will delay him at the section boundary touchpoint."

  It seemed to Bhodi that everyone and everything was determined to squelch his enthusiasm for continuing his training. Bhodi was eager to prove himself, to face the next hurdle and transcend it. But the First Guardian had stolen his instructor, Pike had run off and forgotten him, Haj had been uncooperative right up to the point when he located Li-hon for Bhodi, and now the boundary sensor at the Section Green entry point was refusing to acknowledge his presence and pass him through.

  "Nothing to worry about," the boundary-keeper said as an intermittent stream of traffic in both directions passed through without difficulty. "It happens sometimes. Just keep trying."

  Bhodi did, touching his bracelet to the sensor every time there was a break in the traffic. Each time, the response lamp above the saloon-door-style gate stayed dark, glowing neither red to pass him through nor violet to turn him aside.

  More than five minutes slid by before he finally connected with the station's traffic management computer and passed through the touchpoint. But his frustration did not end there. When he reached the Command Quad and found what he thought was the doorway to which Haj had given him directions, the door did not open for his bracelet, and there was no response to the chime that he presumed sounded inside.

  So either Haj had been in error, or Bhodi was in the wrong place. It was hard to be sure which, because Bhodi could not read all the symbols beside the threshold. The numerals were right-21-but maybe the rest didn't say Nar-lex-ko-li-hon, or Command Quad. For all he knew, the symbols said Laundry, High Voltage, or Employees Only.

  Why do they have to have such a damned complicated alphabet, Bhodi fumed as he retraced his steps to the section boundary. Forty-two letters and it all looks like sloppy Chinese. If they can give me this translator plug, why can't they give me
some sort of computer contact lens that'll make it look like English to me? Because they like to make everything harder than it has to be, that's why At the touchpoint, Bhodi filed a where-is query with the boundary-keeper. He was told that Li-hon was in the Ninth's platoon room, located two levels down along the Section Green's outermost corridor.

  I wonder where he'll be when I get there, Bhodi thought. Are we playing spacetime hide-and-seek?

  But he forgot his annoyance when he reached Level 10. It was not physique alone, but something in their faces that told Bhodi that the people he saw in the corridors were Guardians. He had moved into Intellistar's inner world.

  That impression was confirmed by Bhodi's first glimpse of Platoon Row. He stood looking down the length of a long, dimly lit lounge. Most of the seating areas were empty, but near the far end a half dozen Guardians in combat suits were clustered together. The left wall was solid glass-or whatever the Alliance used in place of it-and looked out to space and a spectacular starscape. To the right was a line of widely spaced thresholds interspersed with large, colorful emblems hung like medieval heraldry on the wall.

  As Bhodi started along the row, his eyes scanned ahead and found an emblem he knew. It was the same symbol that appeared on the sleeve of Li-hon's fatigues-the emblem of the Ninth Platoon. He stopped at the door nearest it, paused, then touched and went inside.

  Li-hon was seated in the hexagonal pit that dominated the center of the room, perched on a stool and poring over the glowing display lying on the table at the center of the pit. But Bhodi almost didn't notice Li-hon, for his eye was drawn immediately to the back wall. The upper third of the wall was filled with portraits of individual Qeth, Celtans, and other Alliance species. There were more than fifty portraits in all, three rows across and a third of a fourth row.

  "Ah, Bhodi," Li-hon said, rising up. "Haj said you might be trying to find me."

  "Who are they?" Bhodi asked, still staring at the wall of faces.

  "That's the Ninth's Wall of Honor," Li-hon said, turning to look that way himself.