by Chris Reher
"Many rebels here on Shaddallam?"
He nodded. "We have no numbers for them, but they are gathering in the north."
She tucked the bag into her belt. "Why you help me?"
He stepped back. "Your reasons for seeking out our oppressors are your own. But I shall hate to see your quest untimely ended because of your inept ploy to disguise yourself as a botanist." His cackle was old-womanish as he retreated to the back of the store.
"Man," Nova called after him.
He poked his head around a stack of crates.
"Why no door on that building? Why all people hide?"
"Oh, there is a door. But it isn't on the building. And why do we hide?" He came forward again. "Strangers come here. Not the odd trader that passes by here from your world beyond the sun, but strangers who take all and give nothing. They come here sometimes from Shad Laika. So we hide."
Nova left the shop and hurried across the square, the smell of rotted meat, sewage and the tanneries again assaulting her senses. Tychon would be waiting for her at the path leading into the dusty plains that surrounded Shad Lengh. She walked faster, eager to share her find with him.
* * *
Tychon was leaning against the wall of a stable, morosely watching the little people scurry about that maze which they called a town. No one had wanted to speak to him. It didn't seem to be shyness that kept them at a distance but a rather profound loathing for strangers.
When he had finally caught a child by the cowl of its robe he had succeeded only at being soundly cursed; one did not need to be a linguist to know when one was insulted. The child had not been a child, but an adult female. No doubt the indignant woman had taken him for one of Tharron's rebels. He thought it rather admirable that she had neither cowered in fear nor tried to stab him with some hidden weapon. Tychon berated himself for not having taken the time to learn something about the natives of Shaddallam and a few words of their incomprehensible language.
He loosened his stifling burnoose to spit into the sand. This place lived with the fear of the rebel, he could taste it, smell it.
He let his attention wander, observing a group of hunters returning with the day's catch of large desert birds destined for the tannery. He recognized the creatures as sandrunners, Shaddallam's main source of clothing, food, transportation and income. At least that much he knew of this place.
"Tychon," a low voice sounding like thunder at the end of a storm made the long hair along his spine bristle. He turned, slowly coming to face the most dreaded of Tharron's officers.
The Caspian was accompanied by only three others from the same planet. Tychon's initial impulse was to run; the man before him bore an overwhelming presence that made his few companions seem like an army. Four guns sighted on him.
He tried an easy smile. "Pe Khoja, as I'm still standing! I haven't seen you since you got thrown out of Aram."
Pe Khoja ignored the barb. "Didn't think you'd track us down quite this quickly."
"I'm honored that you would welcome me personally," Tychon moved away from the wall, cursing their luck. They had traded planes with Eagle Five before taking the last jump to Shaddallam, exchanging one nondescript vessel for another. Five had recently been refitted - surely rebel spies had not yet identified it. Shaddallam received enough off-world traffic that they would not have raised suspicion by landing here. Yet it seemed that all traffic arriving on Shaddallam was met with great scrutiny. Tychon wondered if this was more than just a place to hide Kiran. Could this be Tharron's main base? His home? "Running short on minions already?"
"You taking out a few Rhuwacs isn't exactly leaving us short-handed."
Tychon glanced along the now empty path behind him. Miraculously, everyone seemed to have found some urgent business to keep them indoors. By now the Eagle would be surrounded by Rhuwacs.
He watched Pe Khoja's fingers play over the firing mechanism of his gun. The rebel would not even call this an execution. But what was he waiting for? Everything Tychon knew about this Caspian would have him on the ground already, of no more significance than any of the hundreds of other dead Union members that didn’t bother Pe Khoja's conscience. Yet he hesitated, his hooded eyes studying Tychon as if some scheme was forming, not quite decided upon, but possibly useful.
"Ty!"
The five men turned at the sound of Nova's voice. Tychon groaned.
"Ty! There you are. I found– " Nova stepped from among the houses and froze when the rebel detail came into her line of sight. Her eyes lit on Pe Khoja's smooth features. Although she had never met him, she had seen his picture often enough to have it etched into her mind.
"Captain Whiteside," Pe Khoja breathed, a slow grin touching his lips. He, too, had seen her likeness many times. He had always envisioned a formidable she-warrior of size and strength to match her Delphian mate and the stories that were told of them. Tharron would not be pleased that his hated adversary had turned out to be no more than a slip of a girl, tall, slender and, he had to admit, quite beautiful for a Terran.
Tychon thought that he had caught an expression of hatred for her, and all that she stood for, pass over the rebel's face.
Nova's hand flashed to her gun. Before her weapon was drawn a single beam of light cut across the space between her and one of Pe Khoja's men. Her body shook in a brief spasm and then crumpled into the dust.
"Nova!" Tychon rushed to her.
Pe Khoja whirled and struck the marksman hard enough to throw him off his feet. "Idiot!"
The rebel raised his hands to ward off any further blows. "Our orders are to shoot her on sight!" His visions of reward and praise faded at the sight of Pe Khoja's angry visage.
The leader watched Tychon sit on his heels beside the still figure. "Take her along," Pe Khoja snapped. "She'll come around."
Tychon looked back over his shoulder, his hand still touching her neck. "She's dead."
Pe Khoja motioned to another of his guards to confirm Tychon's words. The rebel dropped to one knee beside her, feeling for signs of life. Tychon closed his eyes.
"So she is." The soldier used his clawed foot to turn Nova over. "Looks like we finally got her."
Pe Khoja studied Tychon's pale and stunned expression. "I think Tharron might have a few questions for you, Delphi. Let's take your plane. Eagle Class, isn't it? I've admired them for some time now." He looked back to Nova's inert figure, then at Tychon. "Leave her here," he said to his men. "Perhaps they'll make use of her in the tanneries."
One of the rebels unclipped Nova's weapons belt and pulled it roughly from under her, then unfastened her wrist band. He studied it appreciatively. "This set is worth more than what you got for your sister, Jhov."
The Caspians' rough laughter accompanied them as Tychon was led away, disarmed, a gun stabbing his ribs on either side. He did not look back at Nova. His head ached.
* * *
Since the invitation to take a seat among the ten leaders of the Union, Baroch had had to resign himself to the constant and watchful presence of others at closer quarters, even as he slept. Even during precious time spent with his wife and their two children, even in his quiet moments lost in study or absorbed in khamal, Union agents maintained a vigil over him. He had grown accustomed to the intrusion but would never come to like it.
To remain impartial, Baroch had made his home on Feyd rather than on his native Delphi. In spite of the relentless heat it was a good place to build a home, not as harsh and fast-paced as Targon and not as remote and dull as Pelion or Myra.
The house itself was large, rambling into several directions with deep, open verandas designed to catch every breeze. It did not have an office. On this one thing Baroch had insisted. Any business conducted on Feyd was handled in one of several comfortable sitting rooms, more often than not in the presence of his wife and over a tray of Feydan delicacies. If formality was required, the dining room converted into a soundproof, bugproof meeting room.
He was not entirely certain of the necessary formality
called for when four Shantirs arrived on Feyd. The audience had been requested politely but the purpose for it had not been disclosed. That it was urgent was evident; Shantirs did not travel this far to visit a Factor for social reasons.
Baroch decided to receive them in the ornately paneled, secure dining room. Knowing what he did of members of the sect, he was certain that they would prefer to sit in formal austerity rather than lounge casually around a pitcher of tea. As an afterthought, his aide replaced the humorous Nebdanese tapestry with a likeness of Phera.
The Shantirs were ushered in and guards posted themselves outside. Normally, two or three would remain with Baroch as standard security procedure. But to a Shantir even an honor guard would mean immeasurable insult.
Introductions were made. Baroch knew one of them, Shan Cy'lan. All three were Shantirs of the highest order and the Factor made no attempt at small talk.
"Your presence here is welcome, Elder Brothers and Sister," he said. "How can I be of service?"
Cy'lan was their spokesman. Baroch understood that his guests were telepathically linked and required only one voice. "Lord Baroch," he began. "We are here to represent the Shantir community, not the Clan Council of Delphi. An unfortunate incident has occurred within our enclave in Chaib Psa. It was decided to report this incident to you. We have also come to you to confirm a suspicion which we have harbored for some weeks now."
"Tell me of the incident," Baroch replied guardedly.
"One of our number has been murdered. We discovered his body in our library."
Baroch sighed inwardly. A dead librarian. Were these people suspecting rebels inside their monastery?
"He died while defending our stores of most valuable archives. A so-far tamperproof access system was bypassed and copies were taken."
"Copies of what?"
Cy'lan hesitated only briefly. "The accessed file pertains to the removal of an artificially induced mental block. One specific mental block. It is the one given to Kiran Tar Phera."
"By the Gods!" Baroch breathed.
Cy'lan regarded him shrewdly. Baroch knew what he was talking about. Baroch had not asked why the child carried a mental block. He had not asked why anyone would want this file badly enough to murder a Shantir. Baroch knew! "Lord, since you appear to be aware of the reality of the Tughan Wai, our suspicion is confirmed. People outside the Shantirate know that he exists and they know who he is. Most likely, he is at large and no longer on Feyd, or with Shan Tychon and his consort. Quite possibly, he is in the hands of your enemy! Is that not so, Lord Baroch?"
Baroch glared at Cy'lan, furious for having been put on the defensive. The old man sounded accusing. A number of retorts ached to be flung back at the Shantir. You created this abomination! You let him leave Delphi! You relied on a mindless machine to guard your secrets! You failed. You made the mistake, Shantir!
The Prime said none of these things. Mentally, he was already composing a few urgent messages. "Who was it that broke into your information system?"
Cy'lan seemed uncomfortable now. "A traitor, no doubt. Someone who has fallen under Tharron's manic influence."
Baroch's blue eyebrows knitted into one thick line. "Who would know where to find the file? Who can possibly train the child? It was a Shantir, was it not? It had to be! One of your very own!"
Cy'lan cleared his throat. "Jelani Tar Phera."
"Impossible!" Baroch shouted. "Are you saying that the boy's own uncle is a rebel?"
"He may be under Tharron's influence," Cy'lan allowed. "It was his task to find the child and bring him back to Delphi. Since Shan Tychon continued to refuse to return his son to the Court, Shan Jelani spent many months in places where rebels come and go freely. He was tempted, no doubt. The advent of the Tughan Wai is a challenge of phenomenal magnitude." The Shantir paused, appearing to listen to some unspoken comment. "He arrived on Delphi past midnight," he continued. "A private liftplane brought him to your Union base near Chaib Psa. It was shown that he left Delphi again by mid morning. The indicated flight plan was false. It listed an intention to cross the reach to Targon but the ship was traced as far as the jumpsite to K'lar."
"Shaddallam," Baroch nodded to himself, then suddenly lunged forward in his chair, nearly halfway across the polished table. "K'lar? Did you say K'lar? Even a Union liftplane would take at least fourteen hours to get to that 'site from Delphi. Are you telling me that you have waited that long before coming here?" He calculated rapidly. "Given the time it took for you to travel here, your 'incident' took place three days ago!"
"Four," Cy'lan said. "Please understand that this matter involves one of Delphi's most secret sciences. We had to deliberate carefully over all possible consequences."
Baroch closed his eyes. Consequences! How about tens of thousands of lives at stake? "What do you suggest?" he asked with forced politeness. Carras! He had to send a message to Targon at once. Did Carras know about the mental block? If Tharron now had a Shantir with the secret to reach the Tughan, time was no longer on their side!
Cy'lan glanced at his silent companions. "Of course, we would like to have the opportunity to study the Tughan and its effects on the boy. When Kiran had reached an age of reason, we had intended to take him into the Shantirate. It would mean much to Delphi to know how our experiment fared. But, after much discussion and many reviews of all information available, we now feel that the experiment should be aborted."
"Aborted?"
Cy'lan nodded. "Kiran is only six years of age. The Delphian brain develops at a tremendous rate at that age. We cannot know what will happen. He has not been under our supervision, he has had no training. We do not know how tightly the Tughan may be controlled once awakened."
"We know where he is," Baroch said. "Our agents are even now infiltrating the planet on which the boy has been detained. Our intention is to extract him quietly and return him to you."
The Shantir eyed him coldly. "Lord, that is a risk that must not be taken. We have brought information that illustrates the possible consequences should Jelani complete the creation." He reached into his belt pocket for a few disks and placed them before the Factor. "Kiran is too young. Of course, he could die but we cannot hope for that. You must move at once to end it. He must not leave that planet. Order your agents to destroy the boy on sight!"
"That is extreme!"
Cy'lan nodded to the Shantir seated on his left.
"Lord," Shan Yriam said, gesturing toward the disks. "These will explain the extremes we consider necessary. If you care to study them you will come to agree with us."
Baroch sighed, then called for a monitor. He went through the motions of installing the first of the disks, his mind already dealing with his message to Carras.
Yriam began to explain the data on the tape, her voice monotonous. Baroch watched, wanting to get this over with. Then a few phrases caught his attention. He leaned forward, now absorbed with what the Shantir had to tell him. Soon he was listening raptly, his eyes widening at what he was shown. Unaware of it, he gnawed at the skin of his knuckles in some attempt to keep his hands from shaking. The Shantirs were merciless, going on and on with their dreadful tale, oblivious of the terror that was growing within the Factor.
He was not aware that the display had ended, nor did he rise to usher the Shantirs from the room. When his aide cautiously approached him, he looked into the face of a man who had aged ten years in one afternoon.
* * *
Nova jarred into consciousness as though catapulted out of a nightmare of vast proportions. She recognized the foreign sun above and then the ground below her as something having to do with her personally. She blinked, becoming aware of the pain that engulfed her entire body. That, too, was to be taken personally. She crawled into a covered doorway, waiting for her head to clear. A sharp wind blowing from the plains had turned the day very cold and she shivered as she tried to understand what had happened.
"Ty?" she looked around, expecting to see his body in the dust of the road.
>
Nova? came the faint reply.
Ty! Nova projected. Where are you?
Tychon's mind pulled up a protective blank to ward off her signal. Easy! he warned. Pe Khoja is taking me and the Eagle north. Kira is there and I'm beginning to think that Tharron is, too! I cannot continue to speak to you like this. But through this khamal you will be able to follow us.
You're going north?
He sent an affirmative. Looks like mostly flatlands. See if you can get a skimmer or something. He paused, his signal fading. Hurry, please, I don't know how long I can tolerate an open khamal with you. Tychon retreated but his presence stayed with her like a distant white noise in her mind.
Nova took a moment to focus her thoughts, using her mind the way Tychon had begun to show her to attain the sort of tranquility that seemed to come so easily to him. It took a long time before she felt well enough to even stand up and look around. She raised her arm to activate her com system before she realized that it had been taken. Vanguard One was searching for the same tree only a continent away and now she had no way of reaching them. She staggered back through the village, grumbling and groaning and wishing for nothing so much as a warm bed to fall into. Few people had dared to move outdoors again and even fewer noted her distress. None offered help. She was barely able to knock on the herb grocer's gate.
She stumbled into the room when he opened the heavy door.
"Hey now, the Terran!" he exclaimed.
Seeing nothing resembling a chair, Nova collapsed onto the floor. "Got shot."
He shook his head. "I knew you'd be trouble. Didn't even make it to Shad Laika to find it."
She groaned. "Need air car. Transmitter."
"Do you really? Well, I have neither of these things." He began to move about the room, looking through jars and bins. "Air car, dear me. Can hardly walk and wants to fly!"
Nova barely listened to his mutterings, feeling herself pass out again. Her vision was edged in red.
"Here, Terran."
She blinked. "What?"