Requiem for the Conqueror

Chapter 34

Ily took a moment to fill her lungs, enjoying the scent of the Targan night. Above, drifting clouds made patches against the stars. The peace of the night pleased her. Arta Fera stood beside her, bound, her perfect body visible through a golden suit, now sonewhat worn and soiled. Ily scanned the sky, picking up a glare of thrusters as her dropping LC shed delta V.

They waited in an open plaza before the old Internal Security building. Around them, the city of Vespa had picked up its usual routine. Yellow squares of light marked the dark walls, and Ily could see people walking under the streetlights along the thoroughfare a block away.

"In a way, I hate to lose you to the psych techs," Ily remarked, shifting her eyes to where Fera watched the slowing LC. A slight sneer lay on the assassin's lips. "You could be a very powerful woman under my protection. You have time to consider. I could protect you, keep you from harm."

Fera's eyes gleamed in the faint lights cast by Vespa. "Arta Fera sells herself to no one!' I

"What have you to lose? You would remain loyal to the Seddi-considering what they did to you?"

Fera snorted in derision. "I was born to die, Ily Takka. That is my destiny. I was made to kill. I can be no more, no less, than I am."

"But there are other-"

"Don't patronize me, Regan whore," Fera hissed. "Can you be less than Ily

Takka? Can you prostrate yourself at the feet of another?"

"No, I can be nothing else than I am." A wry smile crooked her lips. "Very well, Arta Fera, I can see that our paths must always be at odds. I respect you for that-and there're not many whom I respect."

"Apparently." The auburn-haired woman looked up at the LC, now circling the city for set-down.

The LC's whine carried in the night air. The craft slowed further, pinning Ily's homing beacon and drifting their way over the slate and tile roofs of the business district.

"Well, Arta. Our voyage to Rega will be difficult and Spartan. I have ordered a special military Fast Transport for us. The FT won't be comfortable, but we will be in Rega almost before you know it."

"Your consideration is only too kind," Arta answered disrepectfully. "You have a ship full of men for me to kill?" "The crew is entirely female. I took the liberty of showing

them the records made of poor Sinklar's Gretta so they won't underestimate you. And, of course, I'll be thereand by the time you're aboard, your life will be mine. You've heard of the collar?"

"Overconfidence can be deadly, Minister."

Dust and jet blast whipped past, causing them to turn as the LC settled, skids grating hollowly on pavement. The whine diminished and the assault ramp slammed down, sending a square of yellow light across the brickwork of the courtyard.

Iwould kill you in a split second," Fera stated matterf-factly. "Yet you send me to Rega… for a purpose. Why?"

Ily smiled, eyes averted. "I sincerely hope the psychological techs make some progress with you, Arta. I could use a woman with your skills-provided you had your own will."

Ily pointed to the LC and followed Fera up the ramp, watching carefully as the female guards placed her in restraint.

She turned to a male tech who stood to one side, eyes devouring Fera with evident interest. Ily motioned him to one side beyond the hearing of the others. "You brought the collar?"

The man nodded and pulled a gleaming collar from the case he held. "Yes, Minister." He frowned. "I made the modifications according to your specs, but are you sure-"

"More than sure. May I have it, please?" Ily smiled and lifted an eyebrow as she fingered the cool metal.

Arta glared up at her as Ily smiled and reached down.

She settled the collar in place around Fera's smooth white throat and closed it with a sharp click of finality.

"And with that, Arta, you are now mine." Ily raised the control box, her thumb in place. When she thumbed the button Arta gagged and slumped, eyes suddenly fear-glazed as her mouth worked impotently.

"See," Ily whispered intimately, "you, too, can fear, Arta Fera. That pleases me a great deal."

She flipped the button back, noting how Fera's breasts heaved as she regained control. Arta shivered violently, eyes darting as her fear became palpable; then she closed her eyes, a single tear forming at the edge of her vision as she shook her head slowly, painfully.

"Minister," the tech said hesitantly as he looked up from the field intensity monitor he held. "Everything checks out perfectly for the moment. But remember-"

"I understand completely. Now, I have a final task for you. I need to have a package delivered to Sinklar Fist. You will take it to him, immediately… and deliver it to him in person." From her pouch, she took a small bundle. "Touch the code strip so it initializes to your body chemistry, then go. Time is of the essence.

The man did so, noting the change in color on the ID strip. He snapped a salute and trotted down the ramp. "Pilot?" Ily called to the comm. "Take us up! We've got a ship to catch!

The tech watched the LC rise into the night, squinting and shielding his eyes against the blast of jets as they scoured the pavement. Odd that the Minister wanted a collar tampered with that way.

He turned to his task of finding Sinklar Fist and took three steps before the package in his hands exploded with force enough to scatter pieces of his body for tens of meters.

Sinklar listened to the last of Kap's report on the mobilization and looked up at Mhitshul's soft cough. His aide pointed to one of the comm monitors in the cramped LC command cubicle. Was he going to live the rest of his life in the cramped quarters of an LC?

"Stay in touch, Kap. You're doing a great job." He cut his connection and swiveled in the command chair. Ily's features formed in the monitor Mhitshul had indicated.

"I take it everything went according to plan? You didn't have any trouble with Fera?"

"Safe and sound, Lord Fist." She smiled at him. Sinklar could see severe gray bulkheads curving up immediately behind Ily's head. Apparently her FT didn't offer much, elbow room. "I'm not taking any chances with Fera. She's too dangerous. I put her in a collar. She's already had a demonstration of its effect and she's been mellow as a kitten."

"Don't take any risks." Sink leaned back, unease eating;

at his subconscious. What is it about you, Ily? Why do I always have the feeling you know more than you let on? "I assume you're leaving orbit?"

"We should be on Rega by the time you finish crushing the Seddi."

Sink nodded, stretching his aching back muscles. "Very well Minister. We shall await word from you before shipping for Rega. I'd hate to arrive to an unfriendly welcome."

"Timing will be everything." Then a gleam filled her dark;

eyes and she gave him a wicked smile. "I have talked to Rysta. She hates it, but she will not buck the jessant-delis — or me. Commander Braktov informs me she will accede to your every demand. She also informs me she accepts your command under protest — and is filing a statement to that effect with the Emperor."

"Can that inhibit the Seddi campaign?

"By the time her protest goes through channels I shall be on Rega." Ily grimaced. "Won't be a fun trip under that sort of acceleration, but necessary, I'm afraid. Tybalt will have received my report by then. Don't worry. I'll attend to all the difficulties at that end. You and your troops will arrive to a heroes' welcome."

"Have a good trip Minister Takka."

Her lips parted slightly, and her eyes seemed like dark pools — oddly stirred. "Have a good war Lord Sinklar. And may our future be bright." The screen flickered and went dead.

Sinklar frowned as he settled back into the command chair. What hidden message had she been giving him? Fill-

ing his lungs, he bent over the combat board again, only to find his attention wandering to that last look of promise. She'd almost appeared girlish, more attractive than usual.

He blinked, haf-ashamed that he might have compromised Gretta's memory and forced himself to address the tactica problems of crushing a mountain stronghold.

Staffa lifted the light bar and squinted. They had reached the end of the ancient tunnel in the rock. A dusty door blocked the way. Staffa glanced around, wary of the low ceiing and the encroaching stone that hemmed his broad shoulders. The dust underfoot showed no sign of passage. How long had this secret way been abandoned?

"This is it." Kaylla tapped a code into the lock where it mounted flush to the dusty stone. Staffa threw his head back, breathing deeply of the cool musty air. How far down had they come? Claustrophobia preyed upon him even though the corridors and tunnels held more air than most starships. Rationally, he could prove to himself these tunnels were safer. Here a crack in the wall didn't mean death by decompression.

"That's got it," Kaylla muttered to herself as she bent her athletic frame to the portal and heaved.

Nothing happened.

"Here, you hold the light and let me try," Staffa suggested. He put a shoulder to the stained duraplast. "How long's this been closed?"

Kaylla — barely visible behind the light bar — shrugged. "Who knows? Bruen says he was the last one here. That was with Hyde a couple of centuries ago."

Staffa braced himself and strained. The thick door reaked and gave, swinging easily once it passed the sill.

Rock might have shifted," Staffa admitted, studying the lintel.

Kaylla pushed past into the room. "Shut the door. We don't want any more moisture to creep in here than necessary."

Staffa pulled the heavy door shut, noting the tight fit. He turned to inspect the sanctum sanctorum of the Seddi.

e room measured no more than six by four meters.

Crowded antique wooden shelves of native pine sagged, suffering from dry rot and fungus. Staffa walked over to a globe that piqued his curiosity. It stood on a metal stand in one comer.

"You know that planet?" Kaylla came over, bringing the light bar with her.

"No." Staffa reached out and turned it, noting the shape of the continents and the vast expanses of blue which had to indicate seas. Cracks laced the dust-coated plastic.

'The alphabet is standard." Staffa shook his head. "But the names?"

Kaylla squinted. "Eyendeyea? What kind of a place is that? Or Cheyenay? You ever heard of them?"

Staffa turned the globe on its stand, noting the demarcations. A square in the Eyendeyean Okeeeyean caught his eye. "Lift the light a little."

As the beams fell on the square that held the legend, Staffa's heart hammered. "Earth," he sounded the word out reverently. "Rotted Gods!"

"Perhaps this is just a construct? You know, a prop? Someone made it from imagination?"

Staffa studied the globe as he chewed at his lip. "No, I don't think so. Look at the continents. Look at all the names. Each one has different sounding names. Why in Rotted Hell would anyone make up a name like this one? What is that? Ahuhstrahleyeah? I think this is real, a globe of an actual planet. If it had been created-a curiositywould the Seddi have stored it with such precious documents? Would they have placed a fancy of the imagination inside a vault like this? 'Ibis is Earth. It's not a myth."

"Then where is it? Perhaps the answer lies in the files," she suggested, turning away.

Staffa wanted to growl as she took the light with her. Reluctantly, he tore his gaze away from the globe, following her to the musty drawers. A single case rested on the top of the numbered cabinets. Staffa reached for it, noting the atmosphere seal that guarded the contents.

"Odd," he mumbled. "Doesn't weigh much."

Kaylla checked the instruments hanging from her belt. "We haven't changed the internal environment much. Would you like to open it?"

"I'd like to ransack this whole room! I want to study

every document here." He looked up from the duraplast case he held in his hands. "Kaylla, don't you understand? This is the legacy of our ancestors.

These are the only clues to who we are, where we came from."

She caught his infectious excitement.

Staffa propped the case on the file cabinet and unlatched the hasp. The hinges moved stiffly, but the case opened to reveal a square of fifteen by twenty centimeters. Staffa lifted it carefully from the case, noting, to his surprise, that one side fell apart.

Taking another grip, he lifted it all the way out. The outside consisted of fabric stretched over a hard leaf while the inside consisted of sheets of paper bound on one side. "What do the words say?" Kaylla wondered.

"I don't know, the alphabet is similar to ours, but the words? I've never seen anything like them before. Why didn't they make this out of flexible ceramic, or use a data cube? Paper, for God's sake? What a poor medium to write on.,

"Indeed," Kaylla agreed.

He filled his lungs with the musty air as if to suck in the knowledge hidden here. Staffa pattered his fingertips on the file cabinets. "Why do you suppose Bruen had us come here?"

Kaylla lifted the light bar, and reached to rub dust from an inscription on the wall. It read:

THE PAST IS MYSTERY THE PRESENT IS NOW ASSUME THE MANTLE YOU ARE THE LEGACY

"My God," she whispered, awed. "Of course!"

"Of course what?" Staffa grumbled absently as he reverently fingered the ancient book.

"Bruen knows he's going to die soon." She turned to him. "He sent us here to see. He's made us his successors! Given us the legacy!" Her face went blank, eyes losing focus. "Why us? Why not… someone more. "

"Responsibility. Oh, Bruen, you do make me suffer." He closed his eyes, seeing the old man's plans. "Another irony, Kaylla. From the destroyer, I have become the savior. Your

Bruen moves in deep circles. From sin, he would turn me to grace."

"Possibly." She continued to stare at the inscription. "The Magister is a more charitable person than I am." Kaylla used her fingers to brush the fine dust from one

of the wooden cabinets full of documents. "If we are to share this legacy, Staffa, how do I work with you? I can't forget what you did. I don't even like being around you right now. I know you as a monster. "

He placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. "We'll work that out. You decide what you're comfortable with. And there's something else you should begin to think about. I don't know what Bruen is planning for us, but don't you think it's odd that he's given you so much responsibility in the short time you've been back."

She shifted nervously.

"He has. and you know it. He's also spent a lot of time talking to me. He's dying, Kaylla. He knows he's only got a short time to live and too many of his possible successors have been killed in this crazy Targan revolt trap of his. The rest of his people aren't ready for the political maelstrom about to be unleashed."

:'What are you getting at?" Her expression had hardened. 'He's going to leave the leadership of the Seddi to you, Kaylla. "

She glanced away and shook her head. "That's crazy!" "Is it? Do you think Wilm could wield the power of the Seddi? Nyklos? Name anyone here who has the ability to keep the order alive and safe. Name anyone who could do it better than you. You've been forged by processes that would have broken just about anyone else. You have the political savvy from your days on Maika. You have the intelligence, the endurance, and the will to survive-no matter what it takes. And, yes, you know me as a monster. You don't trust me-and neither does Bruen, at least, not totally. You'll keep a careful watch on me and the Companions. "

"And your role?"

"I control the Companions, the wild card in Free Space politics. You and I can make the difference, Kaylla. You've lived in grace, I in sin. Now we must combine our

strength-Seddi intelligence and Companion force. That's what Bruen is betting on."

Kaylla sighed, forcing herself to relax as she stared around the room. "Damn you, Staffa. I don't want to be a leader. I want time to heal, to mend the wounds and come to grips with everything that's happened to me. I can't assume the mantle of leadership."

"Sometimes we're chosen for our strengths, Kaylla-not for our desires. "

She exhaled, eloquent in the silence, resigned.

Staffa pulled one of the file drawers open, It bothered him that the flimsies were cracked and falling apart. He closed the drawer before more damage could be done. "My people will be needed here."

She turned, face ashen. "Oh? Your people? Your bloodsoaked Companions? In here?"

Staffa bit off a retort. "Among other things, the Companions have siphoned off the finest minds in Free Space. My technicians can save all this. How many more years do you think these documents will last locked away in this environment? That globe, for God's sake, is made of plastic! Plastic! The book, is, of all things, paper! Organic, can you imagine? The flimsies in the drawers-possibly the very information we need to break the Forbidden Borders-are fragmenting.

Kaylla looked around. "And how do you propose doing all this? Do you think Tybalt will allow your Companions to come tromping into this nest of Seddi sedition to release all this information?"

Staffa's grin tightened his lips. "Oh, I'll find a way. I promise that." He paused. "And maybe Tybalt will. Despite some of his other faults, he's a rational human being. By the time I give him an earful about Ily, he might just listen to reason."

Kaylla crossed her arms, a pensive quality in her eyes. "And the Seddi? Do you think Tybalt will just forget everything that's happened? Allow us to hang out in Makarta and preach a new epistemology?"

Staffa paced around the dim room. Shadows danced on the walls and between the cabinets as Kaylla moved the light bar nervously. How much knowledge lay crumbling in this damp, fungus infested fortress? "I doubt Tybalt would

appreciate your staying here. But there's room for you in the Itreatic Asteroids. And what the hell could Tybalt or Sassa the Second do about you then? I think Free Space needs the Seddi. What's left in Rega? What's left in Sassa? Nothing! People spend their lives perpetually rebuilding from the wars. No, we're bottled here-stagnant and dying. What is life if humans are stagnant? We must have a new frontier. The Seddi might be able to breathe a little hope into humanity." He balled his fists, looking at the machine smoothed rock overhead. "We must have a dream!"

:'Brave words. 'Watch me."

The ground shook under their feet. Staffa braced himself, calling, "What the. "Earthquake!" Kaylla shouted, bolting for the door. Staffa swung it open, pushing her out into the darkness.

With all his strength he pulled it shut. The lock clicked gratifyingly. They stood there in the narrow rock-lined tunnel. The silence was overpowering.

"Just like the pipe in the desert, Staffa," Kaylla whispered with a quaver in her voice.

"Let's go.,

They didn't make five minutes' progress before the rock around them vibrated and pitched. The second shock pulsed violently, the stone groaning, dust and particles cascading from above.

Staffa bellowed, "Run!"

The sun rose over the eastern horizon to shed its bloody rays over the mountainous terrain of Targa. A breeze whispered softly through the pines that dotted the ridges. The stringers of clouds that raced westward across the indigo sky burned with the fluorescent red-orange of morning. A faint nip lingered from the cool night air.

Sinklar sat on the crest of a rocky ridge, on a basalt outcrop, his back to the vanilla-scented trunk of a pine. Around him lay a blanket of needles that had turned brown to match the soil. Dry grasses clung precariously to cracks in the scabby protrusions of rock that jutted irregularly from the soil. As the morning brightened, Sink picked a branch

from the ground beside him. One by one, he snapped off the brittle twigs from the limb and began peeling the desiccated bark with a thumbnail.

Sinklar heard the careful steps behind him, but he didn't turn, didn't acknowledge the intrusion.

"You all right?" Mac asked softly. "Mhitshul's half-panicked because your bunk's empty. He's sure the Seddi have assassinated you. "

Sinklar took a deep breath and tilted his head back against the rough bark. The breeze made a shushing sound through the thick needles above. "I'm fine, Mac. I just wanted to think. "

"Want me to leave?"

Sinklar frowned, rolling the stick between his fingers. "Oh, I don't know."

Mac stepped over and squatted on an outcrop across from Sinklar. "You don't sound so good."

"What is there to feel good about?" When Mac remained silent, Sinklar continued, "I'm tired, Mac. And I don't know what's what anymore. I've lost my center, my balance. That old certainty I had when we… you, me, and Gretta…. " He looked away, trying to ease the hurt.

"You can't change what happened, Sink. You can't change what's real. People get killed in wars. Even people we love get killed. You know that. It's just the way the universe works. "

"Why?" he asked hollowly.

Mac pulled a knee up, looking out over the valley below them. While the sunlight rouged the ridgetops, the valley bottoms remained in velvet purple shadow. Mac's blond hair glinted in the ocher light; his face remained thoughtful. "I don't know. I don't think anybody does. I loved her, too, Sink. I just wish… wish I could bring her back."

"Yeah." A vision of Gretta laughing, her blue eyes sparkling with love, filled Sink's memory. The gaping wound to his soul opened, and an ache built under his jaw. He couldn't stop the welling of hot tears. When he got control of himself, he looked over to see Mac wiping his eyes and sniffing, too.

"Hell of a pair, aren't we?" Sinklar asked as he blew his nose.

Mac rubbed his puffy eyes and spat. "Just human, I

guess. Maybe we needed that-needed time to cry, to grieve. "

Sink retrieved his stick from where it had fallen and studied the smooth wood where he'd chipped off the bark. "Sink?" Mac asked uncertainly. "What's going on? I

mean, well, you spent a lot of time with Minister Takka. You haven't been yourself. You're… different. I'm worried. "

"I'll be all right. I'm just tired, I guess. Mourning does strange things to the brain. Maybe I'll ask Anatolia Daviura when we get back to Rega… find out what happens exactly. See if I can find out why it's so hard for me to feel free anymore. "

"We're safe, aren't we? I mean from Rega? The Emperor isn't going to arrest us or anything?"

"No." Sinklar raised his eyebrows. "Ily's going to make sure we're heroes, and then we're going to war against the Sassans." He studied his friend through bleary eyes. "Suddenly we're the salvation of the Regan Empire. First we crush Divine Sassa, then we tackle the Companions. After that, we live out our lives in splendor and bliss, our every want acceded to, our every desire fulfilled by a grateful humanity."

"You never sounded this bitter before."

Sinklar gave his friend a weary smile. "Until now I never had time to think about it in the grander context. We were too busy, remember? Too many people were trying to kill US."

Mac chewed on his thumbnail. "And Minister Takka?" "I'd trust a Cytean cobra before I'd trust Ily." Sink tapped the slim stick on his armored knee. "She needs us right now-maybe even more than we need her. Free Space is about to come apart at the seams. Rega and Sassa are going to war. We're the random factor, the one that changed all the scenarios. But, Mac, be very careful around her. Don't ever speak freely."

"You think I'm an idiot? I didn't like her from the moment I met her." Mac hesitated, shifting uneasily. "Sink? What are you going to do when she tries to seduce you?" "When she what?"

Mac fidgeted. "You heard me. Maybe you're still too close to Gretta's death, but she's laying the groundwork,

friend. She's very good, very discreet, but watch how she postures, the way she meets your eyes, how she hangs on your every word. I might not have noticed

myself, but Mayz did-a woman's eye. Once she mentioned it, I couldn't help but notice.

"I'm not interested in any woman.

"I'll remind you of that periodically." Mac shook his head. "In the meantime, the seismic charges are set. I guess we're ready to take out the Seddi.

Sink nodded. "Then let's do it. "

"You don't have your usual enthusiasm."

Sinklar shrugged, watching the sun creep into the valley below. "I'm just gloomy, Mac. I've got a bad feeling, that's all. I need more time to get over Gretta, to deal with myself. I'd just like to go somewhere, be alone, think. Can you understand?"

Mac gave him a warm smile. "I understand. I think everyone else does, too. Anything else bothering you?"

Sinklar threw the stick, watching it spiral in the morning light. "I never told you the truth about my parents. They were assassins, Mac. Seddi assassins. That's why I was a ward of the state. I never knew them, but I suppose they were the same as Arta Fera. "

"Is that why you're so determined to finish off Makarta?" Sink climbed to his feet, stepping out where he could shade his eyes and stare up at the sun. "Think about what they did here on Targa, about how many people they killed-and for what? They wouldn't even send this Bruen to talk about ending the war. What kind of people could sleep at night after what they made Arta Fera into-and probably my parents? Well, Mac, one thing at a time. If we're going to make a difference, we've got to start here. After that, we'll clean up Rega before we're done."

"That's a tall order, Sink." Mac got to his feet and smacked the dust from his butt.

Sinklar gave him a sober look. "Oh, I don't know. We've sort of become used to filling tall orders, don't you think? I'm going to make a difference, Mac. Let's see what kind of legacy we can leave. The Seddi are only the first disease I'm going to destroy."

Kaylla took off like a frightened antelope, sprinting up the rocky tunnel. The light bar's illumination bounced weirdly before her while Staffa pounded along behind, aware of the tons of rock hanging over his head.

He almost lost his feet as yet a third stunning shock wave shivered the rock. "That's no earthquake! That's bombardment! Those are seismic gravitational charges that we use for underground installations!"

The fourth blast left them stumbling as echoes rolled ominously down the tunnel.

They ran out into a lower corridor, now black from power failure. A man called and came staggering out of the darkness. "Everything's cut off! We've lost power!"

Kaylla whirled on her feet, staring at Staffa.

Staffa pulled his blaster, and leveled it at the narrow entrance they'd just exited-the only entrance to the archives.

"What are you doing?" Kaylla cried as he exploded the

top of the tunnel. She was pulling at his arm as he shook her off, taking two more shots to cave the branch in. "You…. You…. What have you done?" Kaylla's

voice echoed with stricken disbelief.

Staffa slapped a hand on her shoulder, spinning her around and staring into her eyes. "As soon as they can shatter the defenses, the Regans are going to be all over this mine of yours, Master Dawn. You really want them to find all that?"

She looked at him in a daze and shook her head. "We've got to get to Bruen. We're out of time here!" He turned, seeking his way in the blackness.

"Here! This way, Staffa." Kaylla pointed in the beam of the light bar. She left at a run. In the broader tunnel, Staffa had no trouble keeping up. Occasional rocks hit the floor while swirls of dust eddied in the bouncing light as Staffa pushed himself up the slanted floor. Occasionally, frightened men or women ran past with light bars.. Calls and screams became more common. Staffa vaulted over a man who lay facedown in a pool of blood, his scalp laid open by falling rock.

"Go right!" Kaylla ordered. "It's shorter to Bruen's." Staffa made the turn to come face-to-face with a collapsed

tunnel. Cursing, he backtracked to the main hall and ran again, leery of

the debris that littered the floor.

"Another… blast… like that," he gasped, "and the whole place will come tumbling down."

"Bruen!" Kaylla shouted as they rounded a corner. The old man was being carried out of the personnel section, face matted with blood.

The Magister waved at her. "Easy, child. It was only a silly little rock. Scalp wounds always bleed terribly." "How are the surface entrances?" Staffa demanded. "Did

they target them from orbital?"

Wilm looked up from where he dabbed at Bruen's head with plastaheal. "Not yet. We think they just cut the tunnels to Kaspa, Vespa, and Decker. That seems to be what they were after. "

Staffa smacked a fist into his palm. "Then we have a chance. Wilm, Kaylla, take separate squads and gather all the weapons you can. Evacuate all the tunnels. We've got to get out. If they seal us in with a seismic pulse, we die in darkness. Pray they haven't cut off escape."

"And just what do you think is outside?" Wilm demanded hotly.

Staffa wiped sweat from his face. "Maneuvering room. We have any combat armor here?"

"Armory three," someone said from behind him. "Wilm, Kaylla, go!" Bruen ordered, waving his hand, taking the plastaheal from Wilm. "Do as Staffa says. He may be our salvation."

The Lord Commander looked down, a thin lifeless smile on his lips. "Grace, Magister?"

"Perhaps, Lord Commander." Bruen winced. "I'm too old for revolution. Hyde and I should have known better." He looked up from under the patch. "Why didn't they just seal us in here like rats?"

"Any indication of Makarta from the surface?"

"None. All the openings are in the outcrops overlooking the valley."

Staffa plucked the old man from the floor, awed by how little he actually weighed. "Then they didn't know quite what they were shooting at. Three main escape tunnels, right? The first shot was seismic. Beforehand, they'd dropped geophones. After the seismic shot, they had the

precise locations of the three tunnels plotted. Knowing that, it took one shot apiece to cave them in. They won't hit the main caverns until they know what they're dealing with."

Bruen frowned. "And that might mean they want Makarta intact for some reason."

Staffa's expression went grim. "Most likely captives. If they can take someone like you alive, the probes and Mytol will uncover all of the Seddi secrets. They'll be able to crush your spy network. Round up people like Tyklat. Make sure they wipe out the Seddi once and for all. "

Following Bruen's directions, Staffa stepped out into an atrium where hanging ferns obscured sunlight. He blinked, squinting in the light after the intense darkness. The cliff overhung the place and a low railing bordered the flagstones before the sheer rock fell away to the valley below. People crowded the tunnel behind them, afraid to step out into the open.

Staffa peered around, hearing the whistle of LCs in the distance. He left Bruen in the care of a young woman and crawled up next to a man with field scopes. "What's out there?"

"Must be three hundred Regan troops advancing through the valley," the man said in an anxious voice. As he spoke, a herd of horses bolted, running in panic toward the head of the valley. At a grove of trees, they shied, pounding sideways and splitting, some racing for the valley head, the others flying back down the way they had come.

"More there," Staffa observed. "You can bet if this Sinklar Fist is as good as everyone believes, he's got the mountain above us under control, too."

"So what do we do?" A young woman asked from behind them.

Staffa scanned their faces. "Have any of you fought Fist before?"

A young man in Initiate's robes crawled up. "I have, sir. He's different. "

"How does he set up his Sections?" "He doesn't," Bruen called gruffly.

Staffa turned, looking back to where the old man sat up, a lump over one eye.

"Fist has revolutionized warfare the way you yourself once did, Lord Commander." There came a general inrush

of breath. Evidently not everyone knew he'd come to Makarta. Cautious whispers passed back and forth.

"Fist uses small independent Groups, each pursuing its own initiative to

achieve a goal. The Section shares a series of goals which in turn act in concert with the needs of the Division. Unlike the Regan system, Fist's commander's are in the field and are allowed to use their initiative. The result is a great deal of flexibility and the ability to adapt to changing battlefield situations. And Fist, unlike his commanders, will not hesitate to replace an incompetent with a capable officer. Advancement is by merit."

"Just like the Companions." Staffa shrugged. "But are they as well trained?"

"They whipped five veteran Divisions," a somber-eyed youth reminded.

Staffa ducked as a heavy-duty blaster ripped the mountainside just above them.

"Get everyone back!" he ordered. "They've picked up IR from body heat in here." People-wasted no time retreating into the darkness.

"Are the other exits under fire?" Staffa asked.

"There are two more," Bruen sighed. "Both are like this one, and they're probably full of people generating body heat, too. Someone find out. And order them to stay back so they don't draw fire."

A young woman ran into the darkness.

Staffa frowned as he organized his thoughts. "The Mag Comm controls Makarta? The shocks must have damaged it." He stood as another blaster bolt ripped at the entrance, pitching dust and rock across the screening vegetation. "I need comm to the other entrances. Magister, send a runner through. I need to have the best-armed veterans ready to hold the'entrances. "

Bruen waved to a boy who left at a run. "And then what, Lord Commander? We could send teams to work on the blocked tunnels. We can hold the entrances, but what about another orbital strike? Will the mountain take it?"

"Crib up portions of the tunnels which your geologists tell you are the most stable," Staffa ordered. "It's a chance. In the meantime, I need to coordinate our defensive capabilities. From the looks of things out there, any sally would be an invitation to disaster."

Bruen sighed heavily. "So much for your maneuverability."

Staffa chuckled dryly. "Yes, so much for that. We're bottled for the moment. If we try and—"

He threw himself flat as rock, fire, and dust erupted from the entrance, concussion blasting through the tunnel. In the aftermath, grit and pebbles cascaded, light blotted by swirl-;

ing dust,

"Looks like they got the range," a woman remarked, puling herself up to dab at a cut on her face.

Staffa coughed the dust from his lungs and nodded. "That's why we can't take them head on." He pulled himself to his feet, darting further into the darkness. Three men were passing out shoulder blasters and partial suits of armor.

Staffa inspected Bruen critically. "If you're up to it, I need to see a schematic of Makarta. If they've covered the, holes, perhaps we can make a new one where they don't expect it."

They took off down the passage, following a man with a light bar. Halfway to the meeting rooms, the lights flickered and began glowing. From somewhere, air began moving, bowing the dust toward the outside.;

"Looks like the Mag Comm is on the job again," Bruen said dryly. "In spite of our troubles, I enjoyed a momentary relief believing it was dead."

Staffa nodded, turning to the nearest wall comm. "Get'. me the entrances."

One by one they checked in. "This is Wilm. They've been hitting each of the escape routes with heavy fire. Softening us up, I'd guess."

Staffa nodded. "Watch out. They'll try and take you by force in a concerted rush." Or would they?

He turned. "Magister, I need a schematic of the tunnels. Your Fist is no one's fool. He's on a mining planet." -

"Of course, Targa's a mining planet. We have equipment here ourselves. I just sent most of it off to clear the tunnels." Bruen muttered. A dark blue bruise swelled ugly over one eye." He looked up. "What are you thinking?";

"Were I Fist, I wouldn't try the entrances. Too good a way to get people killed. No, I'd soak-off there. Tie up the defenders. While they fought to hold the entrances, I'd use

mining equipment to drive a new bore into an abandoned section of Makarta."

Buen gave him a quizzical inspection. "How did you think of that?"

"I'm making assumptions based on what your people were telling me about his tactics. If he's no smarter than any other Regan officer, Rysta's people would have cut him to chowder. Given that, how would you break Makarta without bleeding yourself dry in the process? I'll bet he's going to do exactly what I would." Staffa shook his head, eyes narrowed. "If I'm wrong, we'll be out of here in a couple of days. If I'm right. this could be very interesting, Bruen."

"Quick," Bruen snapped at one of the Initiates. "Get details with geophones into the areas closest to the surface." He turned to comm. "Kaskel? Drud? Fricks? Get our equipment back here!"

Staffa bent over a monitor and frowned as he studied the layout of Makarta. A faint concussion shivered through the mountain. "Very well, Sinklar Fist," he whispered absently, feeling his opponent's presence through the rock. "Was that an attack? Or a ruse to use seismic exploration on our rabbit warren?"

Kaylla appeared at the corridr. She pushed through the press wearing armor, eyes grim, a blaster in one hand.

"Make room!" she called, "I want Masters only in here. In the meantime, we've got cribbing details. Give the crews a hand with the mining machinery! Someone needs to establish a medical detail. Someone else needs to see to the preparation and rationing of food. Lets go, people!"

Staffa barey heard her, his eyes on the rock overhead. Another faint concussion sounded.

"What is it, Staffa?" Kaylla asked, moving up beside him.

"Like Sylene," he whispered. "We'll fight like they did on Sylene. Mining machine against mining machine, cutng and counter-cutting. But we also have to hold tose thee entrances — he'll try and flank anytime we show weakness."

She stepped close and lowered her voice. "But we still an't win."

"No," he replied gently. "We can't win. Not this time."

Bitterness rose in her. "Everything I've ever believed in is here."

"We aren't dead yet," Bruen chided. "Staffa will think of something."

He ground his teeth, thinking of the hopelessness of the situation. An inevitable defeat awaited him here. "Ily is with Fist. Our deaths will be painful if we surrender."

"I'll die here with a blaster!" Kaylla gritted.

"There can be no thought of surrender," Bruen seconded. "To do so would condemn every Seddi alive out there. So what do we do Lord Commander?"

Staffa relished the burning anticipation in his chest. "Make them bleed for it, Magister. Staffa kar Therma does not sell his life cheaply."

"Fist always has orbital at his beck and call," Kaylla reminded. "If we hurt them too badly, Fist may simply decide to bury us. How many of those gravitational pulses can we take?"

"Two, maybe three. After that, enough of Makarta will fall in that those who aren't crused will be trapped."