“Have you ever killed before, Barba?” he asked mildly. He spoke loudly, using his voice to cover the sound of his edging around to face her.
“Back off, Lieutenant.”
“That illegal weapon makes you brave, heh?”
“Stop talking.” She lost some of her assurance.
“You must be the one Laud Gregor bribed into forging the mural of Discord,” he mused. “Did he tell you he planned to subvert the Covenant with that little bit of skullduggery?”
“Laud Gregor is the Covenant,” she insisted. “We have to obey him, no matter what we think. Our caste doesn’t have to think, we only have to obey.”
“That’s a load of crap. As a scientist, you think all the time. Think about this: Laudae Sissy, High Priestess and Avatar of Harmony is the Covenant. Laud Gregor is only her adviser.” He edged a micron closer. Almost. Almost close enough.
“I said back off!” she nearly screeched.
“No, you back off.” Jake struck out with his left hand, pushing the blaster aside as he lunged with his stiletto.
An energy whine whizzed past his ear. Then the thunk of rock shattering.
His blade bounced off gel armor. Damn.
She righted her aim.
Then she crumpled, the blaster shooting wildly
Jake dropped to the ground, desperate to avoid a killing bolt.
“Are you hurt?” Colonel Jeoff da George pa Law Enforcement HQ H Prime crouched over Jake, feeling arms and legs for trace of injury.
“Just my pride.” He wiped dust off his face. “What’d you hit her with?”
“The hilt of my dagger to the back of the skull. Just like in training.” Jeoff looked at the heavy knob of his weapon with surprise.
“First time outside of training you’ve engaged in combat?” Jake jerked himself back to standing. He scanned the campsite. Shadows moved all around him. The blaster noise had roused all the scientists.
“I’m a forensic scientist.” Jeoff continued to shift his stare from his dagger to Barba.
“Thanks for the assist, Jeoff. But I’ve got to get out of here. Fast.”
“I know. We Military have to stick together. Whichever Military you serve.”
“Keep them occupied. You heard enough to arrest her for altering the mural. That should be enough to bring Temple authorities down on her hard.”
“But Laud Gregor will . . .”
Jake didn’t wait to hear the rest of Jeoff’s protest. He didn’t want to know the awful punishment Gregor would dish out for failure. A worse crime in the eyes of the HP than blasphemy—if the blasphemy helped him.
He grabbed the night vision goggles off Barba’s face and ran downhill. Anywhere downhill and away from the prying eyes of the bone teams.
And Sissy.
He knew he could never outrun Sissy.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
SISSY RAN HER HANDS OVER the black kit box. “What in Harmony’s name did Jake want with this?”
Her finger caught on the latch. Not quite closed.
She paused before refastening it. A lump of fear grew in her throat. Hastily she flipped open the lid.
The black velvet altar cloth lay askew, its folds uneven and corners turned back.
She drew it out, refolding it carefully as she mentally counted off the items that should nestle into assigned compartments. Candles, incense, blessed ritual water. A leaflet of prayers printed out for the bereaved. A crystal wand. Seven crystals of varying colors and sizes.
The fourth crystal compartment, the one reserved for a grief blessing, gaped empty.
“Why would he need that crystal?” Her heart swelled a moment. Would he miss her so much that he needed the black crystal tones to ease his grief at leaving?
A flash of memory near blinded her. With the clarity of a Harmony vision, she was back in Lord Chauncey’s factory, watching the spinning nav unit. Waiting for the precise moment to drop in a tiny shard of a black crystal at the core.
A crystal grown in the same Badger Metal/crystal matrix as the one Jake had stolen. The crystal that sped communications through the depths of space.
The crystal that locked onto a beacon on Harmony Prime so that no spaceship would ever get lost in hyperspace.
The Lost Colony could not have gotten lost.
If not lost, where were they?
All thoughts of Jake fled.
A new flash of insight made her sick to her stomach. The Lost Colony had cut themselves off from Harmony. They sought a different way of life, away from the strict caste system of their mother planet.
They had done for themselves what Sissy could not do for all of Harmony.
Laud Gregor knew this and lied about them so that no one else followed their example into rebellion. He wanted the realignment of Workers and Professionals to free up Spacers and Military to bring the Lost Colony back to Harmony.
Or slaughter them.
As their ancestors had slaughtered the original inhabitants of Harmony.
She had to sit down.
Jake was right.
“Jake! Oh Harmony, why did I send him away?”
“It is with a sad heart that we must inform Harmony of the death of Lady Marissa,” Guilliam intoned with just the right amount of droop to his posture and his voice. “She suffered a massive heart attack last night. Her son, Lord Lukan found her this morning.”
Gregor kept one eye on the television where Guilliam read the official Temple and HC statement of grief over the death of Lady Marissa.
With the other eye he watched the reaction of Admiral Nentares da Andromeda pa HQ H Prime and General Armstrong da Beaure pa HQ H Prime. Both of them heaved sighs of relief as they watched with him.
“Maybe now we can get something done,” Nentares said. “The last two Maril incursions got away. We fear they took valuable fleet observations with them.”
“I have sent Laudae Penelope to fetch Laudae Sissy from her mountain retreat.” A little lesson in humility to both of them. He’d not go begging again.
“I have a report that her hearing has partially returned.” Gregor made a show of shuffling papers on his desk and reading one aloud. The physicians told him that if her hearing would return the process would have begun by now. He needed no more reassurance. Sissy would return and reopen the government and Temple whether she wanted to or not.
“Have the Military forensics people confirmed the diagnosis of heart attack for Lady Marissa?” Armstrong asked.
“Her personal physician said there was no need for an autopsy,” Gregor said. “He found no evidence of suspicious circumstances.” And he wouldn’t. A hefty bribe of two weeks’ vacation at a private retreat on an exotic tropical beach guaranteed that.
Easy enough to arrange an accident so that he never returned.
“The task of informing the public falls to the Temple because Lady Marissa was born to our caste and chose to marry a Noble,” Guilliam read from a prepared statement. “Upon the death of her spouse she assumed his place with the High Council. Her sister, the late High Priestess Laudae Marilee, remained in Temple. A state funeral for this remarkable lady will be held tomorrow at noon, here in the Crystal Temple forecourt at the High Altar. After the ritual, High Priestess Laudae Sissy and High Priest Laud Gregor will open the High Altar and reveal for the first time this century the tablets containing the original Covenant with Harmony.”
Both the Military and Spacer officials raised eyebrows at the last.
“We hope this distraction of opening the High Altar will not keep Laudae Sissy from authorizing the shift of troops and ships to the frontier,” Nentares said.
“I assure you, Laudae Sissy will sign the orders to arm merchant vessels and shift Workers and Professionals into noncombative roles. She will also cosign the necessary arrangements to reassign Military to defend the outer colonies on the ground, freeing your caste to take to the stars.” Along the way to the frontier, all those extra troops would also stop off to subdue and reabsorb the Lost Colony. Gregor had the p
aperwork already prepared. He’d forge Sissy’s signature if necessary.
“Lord Lukan, eldest son of Lady Marissa will assume her place on the High Council,” Guilliam continued. “He and his twin brother Bevan have been managing her estates and businesses for the last three years to relieve their mother of some of her burdens. They chose not to inform the public of her history of heart failure and were prepared for this transition.”
The statement would run another two pages. Gregor ceased to listen. He knew the words by heart. He’d written them. He’d made certain to keep out any mention of rumors that named Lady Marissa as the instigator of the bomb and the fire and the other assassination attempts on their beloved Laudae Sissy.
Gregor’s face grew hot, and his stomach churned. he groped for his pills. His hands came up empty. Desperate to control his errant body before the heads of Spacer and Military noticed anything amiss, he slapped a button that would summon an acolyte.
Caleb poked his head through the door to the outer office. He took one look at Gregor and hastened to the credenza behind him. In seconds he slipped two of the pink digestion tablets and one of the blood pressure pills into Gregor’s hand before bowing and retreating.
“Are you ailing?” Armstrong asked. He bounced out of his chair and poured a glass of water for Gregor from the pitcher on the credenza. While he was at it, he undoubtedly read the labels on the pill bottles Caleb had left in plain sight and easy reach.
“I will be fine as soon as Laudae Sissy returns and we return Lady Marissa to Harmony’s womb.”
“We cannot wait for her return to address the offer of peace and alliance with the CSS,” Nentares said. “Their fleet waits just beyond the frontier. A word from you and they will assist against any further incursions by the Marils.”
“I cannot authorize that without full agreement from the HC. Laudae Sissy still has veto power over such drastic action.”
“Is Lord Lukan more agreeable than his mother?” Armstrong asked.
“Yes.” He’d better be.
“Then start persuading Laudae Sissy. We can’t wait beyond the end of tomorrow to send the message. Tonight would be better,” Nentares said.
Jake burst out of hyperspace blasting identity codes on all Harmony frequencies as well as CSS modulations. His anonymous little solo merchant craft bucked and shuddered hard enough to rattle his teeth.
“I don’t like these transitions any better than you do, brat,” he coaxed the vessel.
He fought off the last hyperspace disorientation and sleepy drugs as he scanned the spacescape for signs of someone friendly. He’d used the drugs because he couldn’t risk a visitation from the ghosts of all the people he’d killed on Harmony. He had to sleep through hyperspace, no matter how dangerous that was on a solo mission.
Staying awake was more dangerous to his sanity.
“Confirm identity,” a bored female voice blasted back at him. At least she spoke in the familiar accent of a native-born Earther.
Jake breathed a sigh of relief and re-sent the codes Pammy had given him oh those many months ago when he left SB3 and civilization. Right at the edge of sensor range he caught a blip that resolved into a massive battle wagon bristling with weaponry.
“Those codes are six months out of date,” the female said with a little more interest.
“Warning. CSS Battleship Nobotov has locked on automatic targeting system. Warning,” the sensor display blinked at him with ominous red letters.
“Nobotov, please back off on the weapons display. All I’ve got is a little asteroid blaster on my bow,” Jake requested. He wanted to scream in frustration. Little Miss Bored and Anonymous in communications might take that as a threat and decide to liven up her day a bit.
“What else you got hidden inside?” a male voice asked. Probably a weapons officer.
“Nothing but a Badger Metal sword, dagger, two boot knives, and a brace of wrist stilettos,” Jake replied. He didn’t mention the nasty little serrated throwing stars at the small of his back or the black crystal in his pocket. He might need a few surprises.
“Where you been, Harmony?” the weapons officer chuckled.
Jake could picture the guy running deeper sensor scans looking for signs of anything more lethal. All the while the two spacecraft crept toward each other at ten thousand klicks a second.
“Run my codes past Pamela Marella,” Jake said. Time to stop dancing around each other and start seriously negotiating getting Jake aboard that vessel. Alive.
“Admiral Marella is not available,” Communications replied again.
“Admiral?” Jake put aside his amusement that Pammy would actually have a normal identity to cover her existence as the spymaster. She’d always insisted, to him at least, that she was civilian through and through. Somewhere in his foggy brain he had to have an emergency code.
Something about spring flowers. No an older quote. Something so archaic it came back into fashion at least once a generation.
“A rose by any other name looks like a daisy.” No that wasn’t it. Ah, “A rose by any other name is still a rose.” And Lieutenant Colonel Jeremiah Devlin was at heart Major Jake Hannigan. Or was he Jacob da Jacob pa Crystal Temple HPS Bodyguard?
He wasn’t sure anymore who he was. Only that he was alone and missing Sissy.
“Admiral Marella sends her greetings. Opening docking bay five for you Lieutenant Colonel. Please remain inside your craft for decontamination and await escort to the captain’s ready room.”
“I need to debrief. Got anyone aboard with a security clearance alpha alpha alpha?”
The female whistled. A long pause. “Captain says you’ll have to wait for Admiral Marella to arrive. About twelve hours.”
“Good. I need to clean up and get some sleep.” And have a medic remove his caste mark and Pammy’s nanobots. He was tired of looking like a Nordic god. He wanted to be plain Jake again. Though his face would look mighty naked without the red square encircled with purple.
Briefly he wondered how he would identify people without caste marks? Should he salute or bow to a superior?
Did any of it matter if he never got to see Sissy again?
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
"TELL LAUD GREGOR THAT I refuse to preside at the funeral of Lady Marissa,” Sissy told Penelope. She returned her attention to the alien skeleton laid out upon the altar inside the burial cave.
Interesting that the aliens placed their dead in a fetal position, as if truly returning to the womb. Humans laid their dead straight, as if they merely slept.
She’d learned a lot about bones these past months. With a little time to think, she could assemble one from scattered fragments, and had done so several times.
But this alien puzzled her. It didn’t fit the pattern of either the humans or the other aliens she’d encountered.
“The people are expecting you, Sissy. The media have already reported your return to the city,” Penelope replied. She kept her hands close to her sides and her eyes carefully averted from the bones.
“You look pale, Penelope. Are you all right?” Sissy reach a concerned hand to the woman’s arm.
Penelope shied away from her touch. “How can you . . . how can you abide to touch those things?” She shuddered and backed up three steps toward the entrance.
“I have learned to revere them.”
“I . . . I’m not supposed to leave without you,” Penelope said, looking over her shoulder longingly toward the exit.
“I cannot preside at the funeral of the woman who tried to kill me. She slaughtered my entire family, wiped them out except for the two youngest. She murdered my friend Shanet and your daughter as well. I cannot forgive her, even in death. She deserved execution, alone and unloved at the mercy of a machine, not a peaceful heart attack at home within the bosom of her family.”
Penelope hung her head. “She was good to me when I was a child and my mother ignored me, like a proper Temple.”
“She murdered your daughter.”
<
br /> “You are right. She does not deserve a state funeral, but Laud Gregor has ordered it. We must obey.”
“I refuse. And I urge all other Temple caste to refuse as well. Let him preside by himself. I will return afterward for the opening of the High Altar. Not before. Not in time for his display of pomp and circumstance.” Sissy loved that phrase. Jake had taught her that one. It described Gregor so well. “After the funeral, I will convene the HC. We must address the matter of possible invasion and the CSS offer of peace.”
“I will convey your message. I think that since I am ordered not to return without you that I, too, must delay until after the funeral.” Penelope flashed Sissy a conspiratorial grin. “But I cannot remain in this cave a moment longer.”
Sissy let her go. The welcoming silence enfolded her. External silence while she tried again to decode the whispering bells in her head. She knew the sound akin to the murmurs a baby heard while still in its mother’s womb. Surely Mother Harmony was trying to communicate with her here in the womb of all life.
If only Harmony would give her a vision, a prophecy, something to explain or enlighten. But there were only the constant annoying half-heard conversations in her head.
Gregor counted the ten hover cams scattered around the forecourt. All precisely as he had ordered them placed. They each had a good, but not complete view of the back of the altar. Only he and Sissy would know how to operate the hidden mechanism.
He had the archivist to thank for finding the ritual to open the altar. But he’d had to put up with more admonitions about being slackard in waiting so long.
Temple and Noble caste marks filled the first rank of observers. Beyond them Professionals and Military crowded close, pushing and shoving for a better view.
The respectful murmurs of the crowd had risen to a crescendo of impatience. And now it verged on angry.
He’d had enough of angry crowds these past few weeks. If they only knew what he’d done to end this crisis, they’d bow down and worship him.
Didn’t they know how much pride he’d sacrificed in getting Sissy to come back to the capital? Then she’d had the audacity to humiliate him further by refusing to show up for the state funeral! Now she made him wait again, until the last vestiges of funeral music had died away, the casket was carted off to the crematorium, and the remnants of black ribbons cleaned up, and the black crystal removed from the altar before she graced the audience with her presence.
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