“President Belisle, I demand an explanation.” Counselor Savitch was more than furious. She was outraged.
“I’ll be honest with you, counselor,” Belisle said, a sneer on his face as he looked out the closed French doors onto the still ash-covered balcony of his parliament office. The two of them were alone. Despite their protests, Savitch and Belisle both had insisted that her Marine bodyguards remain outside the door. “Your coming here was, shall we say, an unpleasant surprise,” he told her. “I had asked the Council for Marines to help the cowards in the Territorial Army keep the Mallorys in their place, but no one ever counted on getting a half-breed traitor like Reza Gard and that motley band of thugs in Marine uniforms.” He grimaced. “That was a mistake that no one was able to foresee.”
Melissa Savitch shivered at the hatred in the man’s voice, wondering what anyone could ever have done to him to make him so completely devoid of compassion toward a fellow human soul. But he didn’t think of Reza as human, did he? she thought.
“Yes,” he went on, almost as if to himself, “he really took me by surprise, and calling you in made it a damned bleeding liberal party.” He turned from the glass doors to face her, a sly, serpentine smile on his face. “But that’s all in the past, let me assure you.”
“Just what is that supposed to mean?”
“It means, counselor, that your services are no longer required,” a new voice said. Behind her, the door to one of the three anterooms adjoining Belisle’s office had opened, and a Marine whom she had never seen before silently stepped into the room.
“I’d like you to meet Colonel Markus Thorella, commander of the First Guards Marine Assault Regiment,” Belisle said as he began backing away from her.
She was about to say something when her eyes caught sight of the dark metal shape in Thorella’s hand.
“Sorry, counselor,” he said. His voice did not sound particularly apologetic.
Thorella’s predatory smile was the last thing she saw before the blast from his pistol vaporized her skull.
* * *
“Sir!” shouted the comms technician from her console. “We’ve got trouble!”
“What now?” Washington Hawthorne growled, covering the distance to the lance corporal’s position in three great strides.
“Sergeant Bayern radioed ‘Black Watch,’ then she went off the air,” the comms tech said as her fingers flew over the console’s controls. “I haven’t been able to raise her again. No contact with PFC Morita, either.”
Hawthorne’s face grew tight, his fists clenching tight. “She didn’t get out what it was?”
“No sir,” the comms tech told him. “But I heard what sounded like firing, pulse guns.” She paused. “Two shots. I think Bayern was already hit when she called in.”
Hawthorne’s blood ran cold with anger. “Goddamn,” he hissed.
“What happened?” Enya asked quietly, afraid of what she might hear. “What is ‘Black Watch?’”
Hawthorne turned to her, his eyes angry white orbs in his black face. “That’s a shorthand code for what we call a losing proposition, when Death has you by the collar and you’ve only got time to get out a word or two. Two Marines, and probably Counselor Savitch, are gone. Dead.”
“My Lord,” Enya whispered, getting unsteadily to her feet. “Why? What could have happened?”
Hawthorne turned on her, his voice savage not because he wanted it to be, but because he needed the truth, and fast. “Were any of the Mallorys planning anything against Belisle or Savitch? Anything?”
Enya shook her head, shocked that he would even consider such a thing. “Of course not,” she said angrily, her own fears boiling up inside. “We had everything to gain from the Counselor’s intervention, and literally nothing to lose. None of the Mallorys, even the farthest fringes, planned anything but cooperation with her. We did not trust Belisle – as I see now was wise – but we were not planning anything against him. We have suffered too much and waited too long for what the counselor promised to deliver. Only now it looks as though it was all in vain.”
Hawthorne nodded, relieved. “I’m sorry Enya, but I had to know.”
She nodded that she understood. “What will you do?” she asked.
“I’m not sure yet,” he said, uncomfortable with the situation. His choices were extremely limited. It had been bad enough sitting a few kilometers from some kind of Kreelan-induced cataclysm, the full effects of which they could not even guess at. Now he had to deal with what appeared to be treachery and murder on the part of fellow humans. “It looks like we’ll have to send a recon patrol in to find Savitch, but–”
“Reza!” Enya suddenly exclaimed as she saw the Marine captain emerge from behind the curtain that separated his sick-bed from the ops center. His face was extraordinarily pale, even in this dim light. She ran over to help him as he began to slump against the wall. Hawthorne was close behind. “You should be in bed!” Enya told him as she helped him up. “You look terrible.”
He shook his head, a look of impatience on his face.
“Captain,” Hawthorne said as he took over from Enya in helping Reza, wrapping one tree-trunk of an arm around his commander’s waist.
“Washington,” he rasped as his exec settled him onto one of the metal chairs clustered around the tactical display, “we are in grave, grave danger.”
“What do you mean, sir?” Hawthorne handed Reza a canteen, from which Reza drank greedily. He was soaked with sweat, dehydrated.
“First, tell me exactly what happened when I passed out.”
Hawthorne turned to Enya, who guiltily explained everything that had happened in the mountain and since then. Reza listened in silence, his eyes focused on the wall, on something only he could see.
“What does it mean?” she asked when she was through. “What will happen to us? To Erlang?”
“Very likely,” Reza said, “this world will be destroyed.” They sat in stunned silence as he went on. “You have stumbled upon something that has been lost to the Empire for over one hundred thousand years, something that they value over all else in the Universe: the tomb of the First Empress. She was the most powerful of their kind who has ever lived.” He paused for a moment, taking another drink. “I have no doubt that every available Kreelan warship within hundreds of parsecs is heading here at this very moment.”
“Can we capture or destroy it?” Washington asked, groping for some kind of leverage, something he could fight the enemy with when they came. “Maybe even take it hostage?”
Reza shook his head. “You cannot take a spirit hostage, nor can it be captured or destroyed.” He nodded toward the wall display that showed a panorama of the outside and the glowing bowl that once had been a mountain, and was now only a reflector of the crystal heart’s mysterious aura. “Anyone or anything who is not of the Blood and ventures into that light will perish as surely as if they had set foot upon the face of a star.”
“And if you think that’s good news,” Hawthorne said grimly, “you’re going to love this…” He told Reza about what had happened to Bayern and Morita, and his suspicions that Savitch was dead.
Eustus suddenly appeared through the tunnel entrance to the bunker, his back soaked with sweat: the air conditioner in his skimmer was not working.
“Reza!” he blurted. His eyes were wide with relief that his friend and commanding officer was alive. But his enthusiasm dimmed when he saw the look on everyone’s face. It was the expression of the Damned. “What’s wrong? What the hell is going on?”
“Eustus,” Enya said, coming to embrace him openly in front of his fellow Marines, something she had promised him she would never do, “I fear I have killed us all.”
“What–” He never got a chance to finish.
“Captain,” the corporal at the comms console interrupted, her face ashen, but for a different reason, “Sir, I think you’d better come over here.”
Reza did as she asked, walking unsteadily the two meters to her position. “Yes,
corporal?”
“It’s a call for you, sir,” she said, stepping away from the terminal.
And there on the visual display was the grinning face of Colonel Markus Thorella.
“Well, well, well,” he said, “if it isn’t my favorite captain.” The smile grew wider, more menacing. “It’s been a long time, Gard.”
Reza’s blood trilled with fury at the man’s face, Belisle just visible behind him: the mysterious deaths of his two Marines had just been explained.
* * *
The two men glared at one another for a long time, Reza struggling to restrain the fire in his blood, Thorella smiling with unconcealed smugness.
“What did you do to my Marines?” Reza asked in a voice as cold and empty as the depths of space.
“I was just going to ask you about that, captain,” Colonel Thorella said conversationally. “It would appear that the civil authority here,” he nodded to Belisle, “seems to think they got a little out of hand. What was it you said, Mr. President?” he asked rhetorically. “Ah, yes. Murdering Counselor Savitch. I’m afraid my troops and I weren’t quite fast enough to keep your troops from committing that heinous crime, but we were able to prevent Erlang’s lawful president from coming to harm.” His smile became the hard-mouthed frown Reza had learned to be wary of during his time on Quantico. “And then there’s this fascinating incident with the mountain, or what’s left of it. I’m afraid you’ve got some explaining to do, captain.”
“And what of the Mallorys in the Parliament Building?” Enya blurted out from behind Reza.
“Ah,” Thorella said brightly. “You must be the young and witty Enya Terragion. I’m terribly sorry, my dear, but your friends have been arrested as accomplices to murder. Even as we speak, the rest of your illegal council is being arrested. But don’t worry. We’ll be by soon enough to take care of you, too.” He turned his attention back to Reza, who stood shivering with rage. “And you, captain, should not have been so stupid as to try and be the great righter of perceived wrongs,” he said as if he were speaking to a child who had done something wrong, but who should have known better. “You were foolish to the last, and now you’re going to pay the price. Hawthorne!”
“Sir,” the big man said, reluctantly moving toward the screen. He knew what was coming.
“So nice to see you again, Hawthorne. It’s too bad you didn’t choose another regiment, though. You might have one day made a good regimental commander. As it is, you’ll go no higher than your friend.” To whom he turned his attention once again. “Captain Gard, as senior Marine officer on Erlang, I hereby relieve you of your command. Hawthorne, you are now in command of your company. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” he rasped, his eyes narrowed to angry slits.
“That’s good, because I have orders for you. First, you are to place Captain Gard and Enya Terragion under arrest and confine them until representatives of my regiment pick them up for holding pending court-marital for the captain and civil arraignment for Ms. Terragion on charges of conspiracy to commit murder. Second, you will order your company to stand down and prepare for immediate transport off-planet, as per President Belisle’s fervent wishes. You’ve done enough damage here already. We don’t need any more. Is all of that crystal clear, captain?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Carry on.” And the screen went blank.
It was a long time before anyone said anything. It was Enya who spoke first.
“Reza,” she whispered, placing a hand on his still-shaking arm. “I am so sorry.”
“That murdering bastard,” Eustus spat at where Thorella’s image was no more than a memory. “Can’t we send a message to Fleet?”
“And say what?” Reza asked quietly. “Whom do you think they will believe? A captain raised by their enemies, a man who is largely hated by his own kind, or a regimental commander of excellent standing who obviously has tremendous political force behind him?” He shook his head. “No, my friends, there will be no help from outside. But we are overlooking the real problem.”
“What’s that?” Hawthorne asked.
“The Kreelans,” Reza replied. “They are on their way.”
* * *
“I can’t believe they will cooperate so easily,” Belisle said after Hawthorne had radioed back that Thorella’s orders had been obeyed. “That bunch is like a cult of personality focused on Gard. They won’t give him up so easily.”
Thorella smiled and waved his hand dismissively. “My dear president, don’t be so apprehensive. I hate that half-breed traitor with all my heart, but I do have to admit that he does have a sense of honor, to a fault. He realizes that he’s in a box, and the only way his company can get out unscathed is if he cooperates.”
“You’re going to just let them go, then?”
“Of course not. But their cooperation will simplify their demise. One assault boat can hold all their personnel. We’ll have them leave the vehicles and heavy equipment behind, as I’m sure the Territorial Army could always use it.” He shrugged as he stepped on a spot of blood that had once belonged to Counselor Savitch, the coagulated liquid having penetrated deep into the office’s huge genuine Persian rug. “I hate to lose a boat and the flight crew, but it’s a price I’m willing to pay.”
Belisle nodded, satisfied. He liked this man, and was beginning to think that he might just request Borge to have Thorella posted here permanently.
“Now,” the colonel mused as he stepped toward the glass doors that looked out onto the glowing crater, “we’ll just have to find out about this little puzzle, too, won’t we?”
* * *
“They’re here.” Eustus turned away from the tactical display, his face pale and drawn. Outside, the skimmer from Thorella’s regiment that had come for Reza and Enya had just touched down.
Reza emerged from behind the blanket that served as a door to his impromptu quarters. Enya, who had been sitting beside Eustus while they waited, not holding hands but wanting to, gasped.
The Marine uniform was gone. In its place he wore his Kreelan ceremonial armor, the great rune of the Desh-Ka a flame of cyan on the black breast plate. The talons of his gauntlets gleamed blood red, reflecting the crimson light of the tactical display. The great sword given him by Pan’ne-Sharakh was sheathed at his back, and at his waist hung the short sword Tesh-Dar had entrusted to him, along with the most valued of all his possessions, the dagger that had been his gift from Esah-Zhurah. On his upper left arm clung three shrekkas like lethal spiders.
“Do not be frightened,” he said in a voice that none of them had ever truly heard before. It was not the voice of a company commander. It was the voice of a king.
“Why… why are you dressed like that?” she asked. He looked exactly as the warriors in the tomb must have before they died. She shivered involuntarily.
Reza smiled thinly. “I have worn the Marine uniform with honor for years,” he told her. “I will not wear it while I am under suspicion of such acts as I have been accused, for that would be to disgrace all who wear it honorably.” He looked at the others. “Thorella has always treated me as the enemy, as a Kreelan warrior. I do not wish to disappoint him.”
“Isn’t there anything we can do, Reza?” Hawthorne asked quietly as the command post guard shouted that Thorella’s people were waiting.
Reza turned to him. “Get our people off this planet if you can, my friend. But do not trust Thorella. He will try to destroy all of us to eliminate the evidence pointing to his crimes.”
“What about Enya?” Eustus asked, in a way ashamed of his concern for her when he had an entire company of his own people to look after. But he could not help it any more than he could still his own heart.
Reza put a hand on his shoulder. “I swear that no harm shall come to her from Thorella’s hand, my friend. I cannot make the same promise for when the Kreelans come, but Thorella shall not harm her.”
“And what of my people?” Enya asked quietly, bitterly. “Belisle wil
l murder them, finish what he tried to do five years ago.”
“I cannot see the future,” Reza told her softly. “But we shall do what we can.”
He looked around him then, at the people who had been his friends and fellow warriors for so long. “Go with honor, my friends,” he said simply. There was no more time for good-byes.
After a quick embrace and a last kiss from Eustus, Enya turned to follow Reza through the dark tunnel to the even darker world beyond.
Thirty-Four
“What is that thing, Gard?” Thorella asked as he stared at the blue glow streaming from the crater, pouring its light forth into space. He could see the movements of his regiment’s skimmers and tanks as they took up their positions around the city and partway up the ruined mountain. He and a few of his most trusted troops had come in first to deal with Gard and Savitch, landing over the horizon and coming overland in a skimmer to avoid detection. The rest of the regiment had been landed soon after Gard had been taken into custody. Thorella would have liked to kill him straight away, but his sponsor had convinced him that a gory show trial, followed by Gard’s execution, would be much more satisfying.
Reza remained silent. He would kill Thorella, no matter what the cost, he had decided, but the time had not yet come. He had also decided to kill Belisle, as well. Despite Nicole and Jodi’s best efforts to educate him that society alone was best left to judge the crimes of others, he knew that it was not always so. These two men had committed murder and would continue to do so with impunity unless he stopped them. Too much power lay behind them, power that lurked in the shadow of the pillar civilization had built to Justice, power that crushed its victims without remorse, without compassion; the laws of society could not reach them. For Bayern and Morita, killed by fellow Marines; for Melissa Savitch, who had answered his call for help and died for her trouble; for the Mallorys who had died and those who would soon die, he would kill Thorella and Belisle. He was the only instrument of Justice that might prevail. He alone could avenge the fallen.
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