Renegades

by Thomas Locke

  The senior administrator spoke for the first time since their arrival. “Alliance is a slippery term.”

  “A strong and trusted ally on Aldwyn,” Logan replied. “Someone we can trust after we return to Cygneus Prime.”

  That drew bitter mirth from Linux. “You’re leaving us to mop up your mess, is that it?”

  The general said, “Havoc is four times our size. Maybe five. They’ll come against us in force—”

  “We are not leaving,” Logan said, “until the issue with Havoc is resolved.”

  “Then you will die and your bones will be entombed on Aldwyn,” Linux sneered. “That is, if Havoc leaves more than dust and regret.”

  “That is entirely possible.” Logan rose from his seat. “I will not keep you any longer.”

  35

  Sean and Dillon were summoned back to the militia captain’s office. Logan was seated behind the desk, flanked by his two officers and Sidra. When they entered, he asked, “Have you seen action?”

  “We have. Yes.” Dillon’s response was so fast, Sean had to assume he had been expecting the question.

  “I don’t mean some mock exercise with other cadets, in the safety of a schoolyard.”

  “The answer is the same,” Dillon said.

  Sean said, “Dillon is the soldier. Not me.”

  Dillon shook his head. “Sean was as involved as anybody in the assault. Maybe more.”

  Logan seemed pleased by the exchange. “Assault?”

  “A planet called Lothia,” Dillon said. “We took part in defeating the aliens’ last attack.”

  Vance asked, “Aliens?”

  “Later,” Logan said.

  Sean told his brother, “I did what I needed to do. You fought. There’s a difference and you know it.”

  “Everybody with brains is scared going in,” Vance said.

  “You did great when it was all on the line,” Dillon said. “You saved the day.”

  Sean told Logan, “I’ll do whatever you say. But I’m a diplomat by training and temperament.”

  Dillon snorted. “You’re selling yourself short.”

  Logan had clearly heard enough. “Say we agree with your plan to hunt inside the Havoc fief. What do you need to make this happen?”

  What Sean needed was solitude and a bit of peace and quiet. Which he was not going to get. Logan insisted that Sean use a pallet laid out by the side wall. His glare challenged the twins to complain about the audience.

  Sean stretched out and shut his eyes. He heard Dillon pull over a chair and position it by the pallet. His brother gripped Sean’s left shoulder. Anchoring him to the here and now. Saying more clearly than words ever could that they were a team.

  Sean closed his eyes, took a long breath, released it slowly. He pushed everything into his gut, down to the point where the power to transit resided. He fashioned an energy bubble and compacted everything inside—his thoughts and emotions and fears and life. Then he just . . .

  Went.

  Sean drew up from his physical form and hovered there in the empty space above the six people gathered in the office—Logan, Dillon, Vance, Nicolette, Sidra, and himself. He saw how Dillon’s eyes were clenched tight, like he was trying to consume Sean’s confusion and fatigue, and replace them with his own strength. Then Vance spoke softly, and Nicolette shushed him. Sean caught the whiff of emotional tension between them, an old flavor, not good but healing.

  He turned away from the people and the room. He directed his attention to the target.

  And he flew.

  At the end of the Havoc tunnel, Sean passed through three huge chambers. The first contained the vanished market guards and several hundred merchants, all allies of Clan Havoc who had fled Logan’s arrival. The housing looked temporary and cramped. Sean passed over people lined up for a soup kitchen–style meal. They did not seem very concerned for a group that had recently been kicked out of their homes, which confirmed what Sean had suspected. The battle was far from over.

  The second cavern held a military barracks and parade ground and training area. A large number of soldiers were prepping for the attack on Hawk territory. Sean searched the troops but could sense no strangeness, no secret weapon.

  In that instant he caught the first faint whiff of danger.

  He could not identify the source. He could not even tell if the peril was directed at him. The presence carried a faint hint of venom, very old, very angry.

  Sean waited a long moment, wondering if he should turn back. But the danger did not strengthen. In fact, it seemed to withdraw. Sean’s impression was of an evil lighthouse sweeping across some vast distance, passing on.

  He pressed on.

  Clan Havoc’s third cavern was by far the largest Sean had ever seen and contained a fortified empire. Groves of trees ringed a fair-sized town, and beyond that was a castle, with guard towers and banners and courtyards and a massive outer gate. From the cavern’s other side stretched a vast array of tunnels that Sean knew led to mines and Tiko’s smelting operations.

  Inside the palace’s main hall, Sean found his prey. Three senior Diplomats. In Duke Tiko’s audience hall.

  They were led by his enemy. Kaviti.

  Just as Sean identified his nemesis, the distant peril swiveled back in his direction. He was certain it did not originate from Clan Havoc. But that did not lessen the sense of threat.

  This time, the peril shifted away, only to return and fasten upon him. Sean felt like he was suddenly bathed in a superheated lava flow. The volcanic fury was off-world, he was certain of that. The peril shrieked like a thousand band saws. Totally inhuman. Readying for an assault.

  Sean zipped back. Gasped. He bolted to his feet, only to fall back to the pallet. He heaved a terrible breath.

  Dillon said, “Tell me.”

  “They’re coming.”

  Logan demanded, “How many?”

  “Hard to tell. A lot of them.”

  Dillon asked, “Did you see the weapon?”

  “No. But it’s there.”

  “How do you know?” This from Vance.

  Sean looked at his brother. “I saw three senior Diplomats.”

  Logan asked, “Ghost-walkers from your group? Working with Havoc?”

  “Ambassador Kaviti is one of them,” Sean said.

  His brother actually smiled. “For real?”

  “He’s leading the crew.”

  Dillon laughed out loud. “Bro, you just made my day.”

  36

  Sean transited to Cylian’s office first. Finding it empty, he shifted to her apartment. A bored-looking young Messenger was sprawled in Cylian’s parlor. She leapt to her feet at Sean’s appearance and demanded, “You are the agent the Ambassador’s team has been awaiting?”

  Sean repressed the first response that came to mind, which was, How many other men have popped into Cylian’s private quarters? He said, “Yes. I’m Sean.”

  “I’ve been stationed here with orders to inform her the instant you arrive, Major.”

  “Tell Cylian I can only stay—” Sean stopped because the young woman was already gone.

  Sean could not completely hide his disappointment when both Carver and Anyon showed up with Cylian. The colonel wore a full-dress uniform. Anyon and Cylian were decked out in formal evening attire. They looked utterly exhausted. Strain etched itself as deep as flesh-colored tattoos on all three faces. Cylian looked on the brink of collapse. Sean wanted to demand to know what was going on, offer help, whatever. But there was no time. Logan had loaned Sean his own timepiece, which was now strapped to his left wrist. The amount of time he had been granted here was already half over.

  Carver said, “Report.”

  “The weapons exist,” Sean replied. “We have not seen one. But the reports came from a source who did not know we were searching for them.”

  “Perhaps the source is a plant,” Anyon fretted. He still carried a dinner napkin in his left hand.

  “Our ally on Aldwyn is named Logan. He a
nd his crew have developed a method of transiting all on their own. He has used this to recapture a market cavern from their foes, Clan Havoc. The information came from one of their troopers.” Sean gave that a quick breath, then added, “There’s more.”

  “Speak.”

  “There are three senior members of the Assembly dealing with Havoc. They supplied the technology to develop these weapons. They insisted on the production remaining on Aldwyn.”

  Anyon understood instantly. “So it could be kept secret from us.”

  “That is our thinking,” Sean said. “One of the Diplomats is Kaviti.”

  Anyon sank into a chair. Wiped his forehead with the napkin. “Tell me everything.”

  Sean gave it to them as quickly as he could. As he was finishing, Logan’s timepiece pinged. “I have to leave.”

  “We need to plan,” Anyon protested.

  “You’ll have to do so without me,” Sean replied.

  Carver asked, “Can I return with you?”

  “Negative. They don’t trust us.” He shot Cylian a look that he hoped carried some of the emotions he was feeling.

  “Wait!” Carver stepped toward him. “What is your assessment?”

  “The Assembly was asked to come now because the ruling council on Cygneus Prime heard about Havoc, the Diplomats, and the weapon.” The words tumbled out. “You are intended to serve as their shield against this unknown threat.”

  “What comes next?”

  Sean did not have time to soften the news. “War.”

  37

  Logan emerged from his strategy session accompanied by his officers and noncoms. He found Kyle, the corporal guard, waiting in the corridor. “Did the twin return?”

  “Twenty seconds late.” Kyle handed over the timepiece. “He asks to speak with you.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “Scouting the market area over by the tunnel. Sidra’s with them. I hope that’s okay, sir. You didn’t say nothing about holding them here.”

  “You did right, Corporal.” He signaled for Vance and Nicolette to join him. “Let’s move out.”

  They found the twins standing in the middle of the broad avenue leading to the tunnel’s entrance. When they came into view, Logan halted where he and his officers could observe the two off-worlders. He watched Sean and Dillon huddle, their hands shaping structures in the cavern’s dusty air.

  “They’re working on something, sure enough,” Vance said.

  Logan nodded. “Have they discussed a strategy?”

  “Not with me.”

  Kyle said, “The quiet one, Sean. He said he had half an idea.”

  “Looks like more than half to me,” Vance said.

  Logan disliked the feeling this gave him, having his authority challenged in such a way. Their survival rested on a knife’s edge. It was unsettling to think that their existence might come down to trusting these two.

  The twins chose that moment to break off their conversation and come trotting over.

  Sean said, “Dillon has a plan.”

  “It was your idea,” Dillon corrected. “I just put meat on the bones.”

  “Tell me,” Logan said.

  Sean did most of the talking. He sketched out a concept that had promise, but only if Logan was willing to place these two off-worlders at the center of their unit.

  Logan wished he had a chance to step back and ponder. For days, if need be. His entire life had been built around the secrecy that was only possible when all outsiders were treated as potential foes.

  When Sean stopped, Logan decided he had no choice but to accept their plan. His uncle’s refusal to offer support had stripped him of the freedom to take an alternate route. It was either this, or die. Of course, they could still retreat. Which was . . .

  Logan realized there was something he had to do. Now. Before the battle. While he still could claim a breath as his own. He needed to seek the counsel of a general who understood the risk involved in trusting strangers.

  He said to Vance, “I need to report in.”

  “You mean, talk with Gerrod?” Vance frowned. “I doubt you’ll find any help in that quarter. The general’s adjutant wants to watch you fail.”

  “Which is why I intend to go directly to General Brodwyn.” He turned to Sidra. “Can you take me back to Cygneus?”

  The fierce young woman showed an instant’s dismay. “Cross space? With you?”

  “You’ve taken prisoners to Aldwyn’s far side. You’ve jumped from the surface to Hattie’s ship. The only difference is the distance you’ll be covering.”

  Vance asked, “You’re sure that’s necessary?”

  “Vital,” Logan said. He turned back to Sidra. “Well?”

  Before she could respond, Sean said, “I volunteer.”

  That turned them all around. “You can do this?” Logan asked.

  “Indirectly. I’ll bring you in contact with the Assembly’s representatives. They’ll take you where you want to go.”

  “Can I trust these off-worlders?”

  “With your life,” Sean replied.

  Vance asked, “You’ve crossed space with others in your care?”

  Dillon replied, “Hundreds of times. More.”

  Logan saw a sudden confluence of forces, a drawing together of multiple strands of fate. He said to Dillon, “Put your plans into action.”

  The twin showed a warrior’s grin. “Immediately.”

  Logan turned to the others. “Nicolette, Vance, Sidra, you will accompany me?”

  It was Nicolette who replied, “To the galaxy’s hidden depths.”

  “Let’s hope that won’t be necessary.” Logan reached out a hand to Sean. “Quick, now. Time is not our ally.”

  38

  Logan’s undercurrent of fear heightened as Sean gestured for them to link up. But there was nothing he could do about it. Logan gripped the off-worlder’s hand and said, “Go.”

  Ghost-walking was smoother with Sean than with any of his own people. He mentally spoke the word they used. Transiting. The act was as simple as taking a next step. Half a second later, they stood inside a pleasant and spacious dwelling. The chambers Logan could see were empty. “Where are they?”

  “A Messenger is supposed to be on constant duty. We shouldn’t need to wait long.”

  “Do you really think I can be trained to travel like this?”

  “If you can detect other . . . ghost-walkers, then my guess is, absolutely. But that’s not something I know much about. Yet.”

  “Where are we?”

  “Serena. Capital of the Human Assembly.”

  “How far . . .”

  “I don’t know exactly. A long, long way.” There was the sound of water running. “Heads up. We’re on.”

  A young woman in a sky-blue uniform appeared in the rear corridor. She showed alarm at the sight of them standing in her parlor. “My apologies, Major! So sorry to keep you waiting, sir!”

  “No, wait—” Sean began, but the woman was already gone.

  Logan asked, “Major?”

  Sean looked embarrassed. “Anyone appointed to the Diplomats’ school is brevetted major. But it’s just to get things done.”

  “I would imagine some trainees take advantage of the rank,” Logan said.

  “Probably. I don’t know for certain. I’ve only had the assignment for two days.”

  Logan turned to Sidra. “It’s time for you to check on the situation.”

  Just as Sidra vanished, a genuine beauty appeared, a flash of brilliance so strong the room paled simply by holding her.

  Sean said, “Advocate Cylian, this is—”

  A man in an officer’s formal uniform appeared, followed by an older gentleman in the finery of high office. The officer had an empty sleeve pinned to his upper arm.

  “Ambassador Anyon, Colonel Carver, Advocate Cylian,” Sean said. “This is Commander Logan and his two adjutants, Vance and Nicolette.”

  The Ambassador demanded, “You speak the tongue used
by the Cygnean ruling council?”

  “Centuries before the council came into existence, it was known as the Hawk tongue,” Logan replied. “I speak it.”

  Sean said, “Logan is heir to the Hawk fief.”

  “Which no longer exists,” Logan added. “I serve the ruling council on Cygneus Prime.”

  Sean went on, “He needs to speak with his commanding officer, a General Brodwyn.”

  Cylian said, “She serves as the military’s representative to our negotiations.”

  “She may wish to send her adjutant, Gerrod,” Logan said. “Tell her that is not acceptable.”

  “Time is crucial,” Sean said.

  “In that case, I should make the request personally.” Anyon motioned to Carver. “Colonel, attend me.”

  When the two men vanished, Sean said, “Something is wrong.”

  Cylian did indeed look both strained and exhausted. She wiped her face. “We are under great pressure.”

  “It’s more than that,” Sean insisted.

  “Perhaps this should wait.”

  “Cylian. This could be important.”

  “The first two nights, the Ambassador’s entire team experienced savage dreams. Now we are sleeping here on Serena.”

  Sean shook his head like a boxer throwing off sweat. “Anyon wouldn’t make a shift like that just because of nightmares. Tell me the rest.”

  She glanced at the others. “Anyon’s Watchers started their first planetary survey, then . . .”

  Logan asked, “Watchers?”

  “She means those transiters, ghost-walkers, who have heightened their senses. They do what I did, the hunt. And they do what you do, searching out new transiters.” Sean turned back to the woman. “Tell me what happened, Cylian.”

  “One came back screaming. He’s been sedated ever since. The other . . . She won’t wake up.”

  “What—” Sean’s next question was cut off by the Ambassador and colonel reappearing. With them was a tall, severe woman with the expression of one who never smiled.

  Vance said, “Ten-hut.”

  39