Requiem for the Conqueror

Chapter 34

The chatter of voices blared in an unholy din coupled with the clatter of armor and clunking of weapons. A feeling of relief filled the assault transport's large gymnasium as men and women stripped off armor, laughing and greeting

old companions. Sinklar watched — heart breaking — from the A7 companionway. He steeled himself, stepping into the crowd.

Someone saw him, elbowing a friend. The hush spread, as all eyes turned in his direction. What can I tell them? How can I make them know what I felt down there?

Sinklar heard a sudden comotion and turned as someone forced through the press of bodies. MacRuder's blond hair and familiar features shot a curiously anguished relief through Sink. Mac's face beamed as he walked close, stopping an arm's length from Sinklar before rushing to hug him and pound his back.

Sinklar pushed him back and held him at arm's length. "Mac? I tried. everything. "

In the sudden silence, the Division First's voice carried. "The Lord Commander told us how hard you tried to break us out. We know you had to leave or be blown up." He turned, arm out in a grand gesture. "Look, we all came back!"

A loud cheer boomed to shake the very deck plating under his feet.

Sinklar raised his hands, a quivering smile on his lips until he waved them to silence. "We've all been harrowed and tried. Your comrades and I did all we could, paid with our blood and souls in an attempt to win your freedom. Now, through luck and curious fortune, we're united once more. And, as the Blessed Gods are our witness, we'll never be divided again!"

Another cheer drowned the room, leaving his heart thudding against his chest. Once more he waved them down, climbing to a rec table so he could be seen. The air carried the rich odor of hot bodies. He looked out at their faces, some beaming, others concerned.

"We were desperate, fighting a cunning adversary. We were winning." His voice dropped. "Then the order came. I could not countermand the Emperor's orders. Not with Gyton's guns over our heads. I want each and every one of you to remember that order — remember the guns over our heads. because events are unfolding — and we'll never find ourselves in that wretched state of affairs again!"

Their enthusiasm roared from hundreds of voices, to buffet him with a rhythmic shout of, "SINKLAR! SINKLAR! SINKLAR!"

Skyla passed through the bridge hatch and stepped into the transport tube. She accessed Staffa's quarters and crossed her arms. What would she do? Had that spark in his eyes in Etarus been for her? Now doubt assailed her. "He was probably just glad to be free of the collar — to see a friendly face."

She couldn't forget the way they'd held each other. Skyla sighed and rubbed her tired eyes. The certainty grew that Staffa would expect their relationship to remain the same as it had always been.

She straightened and stepped out of the tube as the doors opened, and almost ran into Nyklos.

"Hello!" Nyklos cried, brightening.

"What are you doing here?"

Nyklos gave her his toothy smile, mustache curling. "Maybe you could help me. I heard they brought Bruen aboard. I thought I might get to see him."

"I'll make sure you do."

He placed a hand on her arm as she started past.

"You're going to see Staffa, aren't you?"

She looked coldly at his hand, then into his eyes. "You don't have to play the game anymore, Nyklos. The Seddi are coming to Itreata. I think the sparring is over."

He nodded and pursed his lips, a sadness in his eyes. "I

wish you the best. I sincerely do." And he hustled away down the hall.

Skyla frowned, shook her head, and made her way to Staffa's double hatch. Two of Ark's people stood at the door and snapped out salutes. Skyla palmed

the hatch, hop ing her bridge command override worked. The double doors slid open and she entered.

The room looked the same, still opulent, the red couch a painful reminder of the psychologically disoriented Staffa who'd left in search of himself. The Etarian sand leopard snarled down at her. The collection of battle trophies on the walls mocked her.

An old man sighed as he settled into a gravchair next to the incongruous fireplace. Even from the rear, Skyla could recognize Kaylla Dawn, the woman helping him. Dawn wore the upper half of stained grimy battle armor over what had once been a tan robe, now spotted with blood and smudged with dirt.

Dawn turned and locked eyes with Skyla. For long moments, they studied each other.

"Wing Commander, it's good to see you. You arrived in the nick of time once again." Kaylla hesitated, somewhat unsure. "I guess we all owe you our lives. I'm starting to believe you're almost bigger than life. Staffa told the truth about you."

"Hope the ride in the box wasn't too much of an inconvenience. The accommodations were a bit spartan."

"After Etaria, anything would have been a relief."

Skyla could sense the strain between them. Rotted Gods, the Seddi woman and Staffa hadn't. Well, why not? Staffa was a healthy normal man, and Kaylla Dawn possessed the poise and the kind of athletic body any man might become enamored with. Instead of stiffening, Skyla forced herself to walk forward, taking Dawn's measure.

The Seddi woman's tan eyes seemed to harden, but she turned, indicating the old man. "This is Magister Bruen. I believe you dealt with him over the comm."

Skyla nodded, "I did. Welcome aboard Chrysla, Magister Bruen. She recognized his withered face. The old blue eyes looked tired now, and a terrible bruise mottled his forehead.

Bruen smied wearily. "I, too, offer the Seddi's special

thanks and gratitude for your timely arrival. I greatly fear that had you been on the scene a few moments later, things would have turned out very differently."

Skyla gave him a predatory grin. "Oh, we'd been monitoring the communications from the time we'd come out of null singularity. Rysta told us exactly when she'd fire, and one thing about her, she's worth her word."

Skyla strolled nervously around the room, wishing she could shed the sudden energy that bunched inside her. "But tell me, I heard you offer yourself to Tybalt and Ily. They'd have probed you. The entire Seddi organiation would have been compromised. Everything. How could you do that?"

Bruen grinned at her, pointing a knobby finger into his mouth. "Upper right rear molar. Unlike Nyklos', mine's full — and would have been used long before Ily got her talons into me."

"By the way, I just ran into Nyklos in the corridor. He'll be wanting to see you. I have no doubt but that he's full of information on the Companions." Skyla couldn't help herself, she kept glancing at Dawn, wondering.

Amusement showed in Kaylla's eyes. "Yes, Skyla, you are all I expected you to be."

"I beg your pardon?"

Kaylla moved to the red couch, seating herself gracefully. "I am not Staffa's lover. Nor will I ever be."

Skyla lifted an inquiring eyebrow, heart skipping a beat.

"I see the look on your face, the uncertainty. Staffa saved me in the desert." The tan eyes hardened. "But after what he did to Maika, there's too much misery between us for anything more."

Skyla poured a glass of fine bourbon and nodded. "I see." So what's your angle? Why are you here?

"You know, you're a lot like Staffa," Kaylla added softly. "You're worthy of him. Capable, intelligent, and spirited."

Skyla smiled coolly. "Aren't you being a bit presumptuous?"

"Not at all. You're all I heard about in that damn desert." Kaylla bent forward to cradle her chin in her palm. "I think you're the reason he stayed alive out there in the collar… in the heat and sand."

Skyla leaned against the paneling, grip white-knuckled on

the glass. "What do you want, Kaylla Dawn? Why are you here?"

Kaylla stood, walking forward to stare into Skyla's eyes, unflinching tan meeting icy blue. "I want peace, and, like Staff, I think I want a chance to take a crack at the Forbid den Borders. In the meantime, a lot has to be done in Free Space or we're all in trouble. Magister Bruen is an old man. It ooks like I have to assume a lot of his responsibilities, and it looks like we're going to have to work out of Itreata for a while."

And how is it going to be between us? Skyla finished the unspoken question. The woman had guts and grit. No wonder Staffa dragged her out of the desert. He'd always had an eye for quality people — when he was thinking straight.

Skyla poured a second glass of whiskey and handed it to the woman, clinking rims in a toast. "Welcome aboard, Kaylla Dawn. If you need anything, give me a holler."

Kaylla's hard glint relaxed and she sipped the amber liquid.

"A day of surprises," Ben's raucous voice invaded Skyla's thoughts. "For everyone!"

"Yes," Skyla whispered. "A day of surprises."

Bruen leaned back on the couch and dabbed at his bruised head. "Kaylla told you the truth. She'll be running things for the Seddi. I'm too old for what is to come."

Skyla laced her fingers together. "Nyklos told me quite a bit under the drug. You seem to have a most effective covert network on Etaria. Are you capable of fighting for those things Nyklos said the Seddi believe?"

Bruen's lips pursed. "Our covert people can make all the difference. And, for better or worse, we're out from under the machine's menace. Perhaps we enslaved ourselves to it. Perhaps we made a bargain with evil. Look what it's brought us to."

Kaylla joined in. Then you understand the problems Free Space faces? That our continued insanity means detruction for the species?"

Skyla studied her suspiciously. "Perhaps. The future looks bleak for the momet. I've had that slobbering Myles Roma, Sassa's Legate, tripping me up the whole time I was trying to organize the fleet. He tells me Rega is poised to strike."

Skyla lifted an eyebrow. "And how do you propose to stop it? Rega and Sassa are crying for each other's blood."

"It may be too late," Kaylla said somberly. "We must prepare ourselves for that eventuality, too."

The hatch slipped back in a whisper. Staffa stood there, filling the lock, battle-grimed and haggard from lack of sleep, but his gray eyes gleaming with power and assurance. A shy smile — crept across his bearded face.

"Hello, Skyla." "Staffa.11 They seemed pinned in place, each equally dumbfounded. "A-hem!" Bruen cleared his throat, breaking the spell.

"Ark said I was to have a room down the hall. Kaylla, if you would be so kind?" He got to his feet, wincing as he moved one hip. Kaylla took his hand, leading him to the hatch. Bruen looked up and winked. "We can talk later. On the way to Itreata. Meanwhile, I'll call my spy, Nyklos, and see what secrets he's learned about the Companions."

Staffa nodded and helped them out, then he slapped the hatch shut, sighed, and rubbed his brow.

Skyla turned, concerned by the weary lines in his face, the slight slump to his posture. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"I found more than I was looking for." "Your son?"

"On Rega. Bruen and I will sort that out later." "And the other, the…. 11

"What it is to be human? Yes." He lifted a gemmed goblet from the restraint barrier and slowly rotated it. "I'm not the man I was when I left-or ever thought I was for that matter."

"I expected that. It's rough out there."

He nodded, replacing the goblet, the action that of a man who didn't know what to do with himself. "I know. I learned that on Etaria. Thanks for covering for my stupidity. "

He seemed as confused as she.

He looked at her, eyes going soft. "Skyla. I had a lot of time to think. About the Companions, about… us. She steeled herself while blood rushed in her veins. "Kaylla said you talked about me in the desert."

He swallowed hard, facing her, searching her face. "This is difficult. I know I can't expect you to-"

"Staffa, I don't run off across war-torn space for just any man." She smiled

at him, seeing relief in his hard expression.

"I regret all those years I wasted grieving over Chrysla. I'll probably always love her, but she'd become a myth to me." He shook his head, fingers tightening on air as he made a fist. "All those years… and all that time you were there." He reached for her and she buried herself in his arms.

"Chief?" The comm came to life. Tap Amurka's face formed. His eyes widened and a red flush started to creep up his throat. "Sorry, Lord Commander. But we've got a subspace message coming in. We got a fix-it's from Rega. The thing's in code, but we're working on it. Might take some time to crack. You might want to, uh, come up to the bridge. "

Staffa nodded, turning Skyla loose. "We're both on the way.

Stepping onto Chrysla's bridge felt strange to Staffa, as if somehow nothing had changed. Heads bent to the comms, everyone busy. Helmut reclined with the worry-cap on her head. Amurka monitored his systems in the revolving chair. The overhead panels gleamed brightly and the monitors showed all systems at maximum. Skyla relieved the duty officer at the tactical weapons comm and slid into the control chair, placing the headset on her pale hair.

Staffa slipped into the command chair, instrument pods folding down around him like the metallic petals of a grotesque flower. "Open a line to Gyton."

The Regan Comm First's pale face formed. "Yes, Lord Commander?" She sounded distraught.

"You have just received a transmission from Rega. You will not power up to answer. Is that understood?"

She nodded, clearly distressed. "Understood, sir. We are offering no resistance."

"Get me your commanding officer." Staffa settled back in the chair.

"In a moment, sir. He's on his way. " The Comm First looked even more unsettled.

"He? Where's Rysta?"

"Informing the new commanding officer of our condition."

Staffa waited, watching the reaction of the Comm First. She looked like her whole world had fallen apart.

Staffa switched channels and called into his fleet commu nications comm. "On deck everyone. Something's happen ing to the Regans. Let's go to Alert 2."

Lights flashed in combat readiness. Systems checks auto matically initiated while klaxons wailed throughout the Companion fleet.

"Outside of the message," Tap called, "a single shuttle crossed from one of the transports. Looked like it was traveling light."

At that moment a commotion occurred on Gytons bridge beyond the scope of the comm. The Comm First looked up, puzzled, eyes going wide. She nodded grimly and slid out of her seat. A young man, black-skinned and raw-boned, slid into the seat.

He studied the comm and opened a channel, looking up at Staffa. "Lord Commander? I'm Division First Shiksta. One moment, please, for Lord Sinklar Fist."

Lord? What the hell was happening?

"So we finally get to meet Fit face-to-face."

"Who?" Skyla asked.

"My opponent on Targa. A brilliant man — a deadly man. We'll have to watch him in the future. he's got talent."

He flipped the audio on again as the image flickered, leaving him staring right at Fist. Staffa straightened in he command chair. The two-toned stare transfixed him— gleaming, challenging. The mop of dark hair looked mussed. The line of the nose, the fullness of the jaw— everything about Fist spoke to him.

Staffa's mind reeled as he stared. It couldn't be! He leaned forward, seaching that face, examining the trait. Yes, that was how he'd ook — the mixture of features a patchwork of inheritane. Fist wore oversized battle armor and he perched uncomfortably in the command chair as if unsure of how to sit in it.

It can't be! Bruen would have told me. I's been so log since I saw him. Relax, Staffa. It could be your mind again — another of those chemical flushes that affect your

judgment. But the eyes How often did that happen! The odds. and in those colors!

"Greetings, Staffa kar Therma," the familiar high voice filled Chrysla' bridge.

"You. " Staffas voice failed him. "You're. Sinklar Fist?"

Fist nodded, odd eyes glittering. "I am. And it appears our situations are reversed. What will you do now, Staffa? Will you destroy MacRuder? Will you kill all those people you pleaded to save?"

"No," Staffa replied absently, entranced by Sinklar Fist's face. "No. I won't destroy you. You're. You're my. How old are you? Twenty-two?"

"More or less," Fist replied warily. "However, were I you, I wouldn't make the mistake of judging my abilities based upon age. Others have and regretted it."

Staffa twitched and said. "I don't think you understand. I have to meet with you — face-toface."

"Minister Takka tells me you're in the employ of Sassa." Sinklar shook his head. "Is that why you want to see me? Possibly buy me off? I won't do it. There must never be another Targa."

Staffa's heart jumped. "No, this has nothing to do with politics or war. I have to talk to you. about your parents. And it must be done in person."

"What do you think this is all about?" Mac asked, casting a nervous glance at Sinklar.

"I don't know, but I'm skeptical already." Sinklar shook his head. "If the Seddi are involved, it's got to be a trick or trap of some sort."

They sat in the empty shuttle, the only two passengers, as the craft slowed and matched with Chrysla. Sink craned his neck to peer over the lines of empty seats at the monitor that filled the space over the flight deck hatch. He studied the Companion ship's lines, trying to comprehend the differences in hull design and the weapons systems. Chrysla had been built like a huge three-sided wedge. Her black hull gave off little reflection, making her practically invisible against the stars.

The hatch clanged and the shuttle jerked as the grapple puled it close.

Sink rubbed his hot eyes and smiled nervously at Mac. "I wouldn't have done this if you hadn't vouched for him,"

"I was down there in the darkness with the guy. Sink, he didn't have to bring us out of that hole. And, to be honest, if it would have been me on top of him, I think I'd have left him to die."

The hatch beeped to indicate pressurization. Then gravity returned as the g plates powered up. "Well, let's see what the Star Butcher wants, but, Mac, I've got an eerie feeling that trouble's going to result from this."

Mac gave him a weary look. "Trouble? We're going back to Rega to deal with Ily Takka — and you're worried about trouble?"

Sink followed Mac into the lock, stepping out ito a very different ship than he expected. The inside of Chrysla gleamed — white and airy with space — unlike the claustro phobic mortician-gray Regan military vessels.

Two smartly dressed STO officers met them at the hatch, slapped out salutes, and stood at attention. Sink noticed that their equipment appeared more sophisticated than Regan issue. Microelectronics studded the helmets and shoulders. The armor looked different, too; it had a scalloped effect. A muscular black man, also in STO gear, approached.

"Good to see you again, Ark," Mac greeted.

The muscular black man smiled grimly. "Looks like the Regans cleaned you up, First. If you'll follow me."

Sinklar asked from the side of his mouth, "Hes Seddi?"

"Companion. He's Ryman Ark, bead of the STO bunch," Mac returned. "And you should have seen his peope deploy on the ground."

Ark led them down a well-kept corridor to a transport tube and motioned them inside. Sinklar couldn't even feel the acceleration. When the tube opened, it was to another polished white corridor. Soft music played through the ship's speakers.

"Not quite as grim an environment as the Regan fleet," Sinklar observed.

Ark smiled, bending the scar on his cheek. "There are advantages to being a Companion. But it's not all flash and

show. We go into combat feeling fresher than other troops. Those resources we don't put into training are put into morale. When we go into action, we want to be sharp enough to split a neutrino."

Sink glanced at Mac. "I'll keep that in mind."

Ark stopped before what appeared to be a standard hatch. "Sinklar Fist is here Lord Commander."

The hatch slid open with a hushed whisper.

Sinklar took a deep breath and passed through a functioning double airlock and into an opulently furnished room. He and Mac gaped. An Etarian sand leopard glared down at them from the wall. The rugs were unlike anything they'd ever walked on. Weapons, artwork, sculpture, and other bejeweled objects adorned the walls. Mac couldn't help but gawk at the fireplace. "We really on a ship? That can't work!"

"But it does."

Sinklar turned, seeing Staffa kar Therma step out of one of the carved doors that flanked the fireplace. Behind him came a beautiful woman with pale blonde hair and eyes of the deepest blue. Staffa wore a gray combat suit and high black boots. A charcoal cape swirled behind him. The woman wore white armor and had her long braid wrapped around her left shoulder.

"Good to see you again, Mac." Staffa shook MacRuder's hand and indicated the woman. "Allow me to introduce Skyla Lyma, Wing Commander of the Companions."

Sink's gut began to squirm. The Star Butcher seemed jittery. This wasn't going to be another Mykroft circus, was it?

"This is Lord Sinklar Fist," Mac replied in turn.

Sink waited, arms crossed, meeting Staffa's piercing gray eyes. "I don't think you invited us over for a social occasion. Could we get down to business?"

The Lord Commander nodded, a frown lining his forehead. He took several paces and whirled, staring frankly at Sinkar. He seemed agitated, nervous. "Tell me about your parents — that is, what you've been told about them."

Sink shot Mac an uneasy glance, seeing his friend's complete mystification. "They were Seddi assassins. About twenty years ago, they tried to kill Tybalt the Imperial Seventh. I talked with the Judicial Magistrate who tried the case. After their execution, I was placed in an institution as a ward of the state. "On Targa?"

"On Rega." Sinklar balanced on the tip of his toes, anxiety in his chest. "Does this have a point? I took your word that we'd be guaranteed safety, but my personal history doesn't have any bearing on-"

"Your mother was auburn-haired." Staffa said in a strained voice. "Do you remember? She had amber eyes, just like your amber eye."

"She had black hair," Sinklar said coolly. "The same as I do-and her eyes were gray."

Staffa rubbed his hands together. "Who told you that?" "No one. I saw them."

"Saw them?"

In Rega. In the Criminal Anatomical Research Lab. Both my mother and father are there. They're kept as …… He turned away.

The Lord Commander looked perplexed. "You say you saw your father? What did he look like?"

"Brown hair. He was the one with yellow eyes. He looked… kind. And maybe a little sad. But then, that was before I learned about the Seddi-and the way they trained their assassins."

Skyla Lyma looked at Staffa, a frown tracing her smooth skin. Mac shifted uncomfortably, clearly wishing he was somewhere else.

A fist seemed to tighten around Sinklar's heart. This was insane! "Lord Commander, I don't know what the game is, but-"

"It can't be!" Staffa wheeled, smacking a hard fist into his palm. "There can't be eyes like that anywhere else! The age is right. Everything fits!"

"If you're trying to play on any latent sympathy I might have for my parents, it won't work," Sinklar declared, stepping forward. "Just what are you looking for?"

"My son!" Staffa told him, his jaw muscles knotted and jumping. "When I saw you-saw your eyes…. You see, my son had your eyes!"

Sinklar backed away a step, unconsciously moving closer to Mac, staring cautiously at the Lord Commander.

"Look," Staffa insisted, bringing a small holo cube out of his belt pouch.

Sinklar took the cube-Mac leaning over his shoulder to see-and thumbed the button. His breath caught.

"Rotted Gods," Mac whispered.

"Do you recognize her?" Staffa pleaded, panic in his eyes.

Sinklar nodded, a wooden feeling in his gut. "Arta Ferathe Seddi assassin who killed Gretta." He dropped the cube from numb fingers. "I think this charade is over, Lord Commander. I take it we're free to go?"

Staffa shook his head, a stricken look on his face. "Her name is Chrysla. She …… He swallowed. "Twenty-two years ago, she bore my son. The Praetor of Myklene abducted them both. I've spent all of my life looking, trying to find her… to find you. "

Sinklar could see the hurt in Skyla's eyes as she put a hand on Staffa's shoulder. "Maybe Sinklar isn't the one." "Maybe." Except Staffa didn't sound convinced.

For the briefest of moments, Sinklar's heart went out to the man. Yes, I know that feeling, the loss, the sensation of being adrift, without place. "I'm sorry I can't help you."

Staffa's lips quivered, as if halfway between a smile and tears.

The hatch slipped open again, and an old man with a bruised head hobbled in. He didn't see Sink where he stood to the side.

"Bruen," Mac growled.

Sinklar's teeth ground. Bruen? The twisted Seddi monster who'd started all of this? He stared at the old man and knew true hatred. To Staffa, Sinklai added hostilely, "Then again, considering the company you keep, maybe I'm not so sorry after all."

Bruen gasped at the sound of his voice and turned, eyes going wide. For a second he appeared stunned, then shot a frightened gaze at the Lord Commander. "You… you asked me to meet you here?"

Staffa seemed to pull himself together and pointed at Sinklar. "What did you do, Bruen? Sinklar says his parents are lying in the Criminal Anatomical Research Labs on Rega. Who are they? Sinklar Fist is my son, isn't he?"

Sink flinched at the fury brewing in the Lord Commander's words. He could feel Mac's tension, like a compressed spring.

Bruen closed his eyes and sighed. "I'm tired of lying, Staffa. The dance of the quanta cannot be denied. Everything the machine plotted and planned has come undone, and I'm no longer sure what's right anymore. It's all beyond me. Maybe if Hyde were still alive, he could-"

"Rot you, Bruen, answer my question!" Staffa knotted his fist in the old man's robe, hissing in a deadly voice, "Is Sinklar Fist my son?"

Bruen winced and nodded, sagging in defeat, his voice cracking dryly. "Yes. We got him from the Praetor." Sinklar shifted uneasily, slowly shaking his head. To Mac

he whispered, "They're all Rotted berserk!" "And Chrysla?" Staffa insisted.

"The Praetor kept her. Kept her until you gutted Pylos off Myklene. "

"And this Arta Fera? She's not Chrysla?" Staffa thundered.

"No!" Bruen pleaded. "She's a clone, Lord Commander. A clone provided by the Praetor!"

Staffa went white and loosened his hold on the old man's robe. "To assassinate me." He closed his eyes and walked wearily over to lean against the fireplace, propping himself on one arm. If looks were lethal, Skyla Lyma would have riven Bruen into slag.

Sinklar motioned to Mac, indicating the door, and said, "If you'll excuse us. I think-"

"Wait!" Staffa whirled, fingers curling. "Bruen, what about Sinklar's claim that he saw his parents in Rega?" "Tanya and Valient," Bruen said stoically. "Yes, they

were Seddi. Another of the machine's ideas. If Tybalt were removed before he could sire an heir, Rega's drive for Hegemony might be blunted. Oddly enough, a young security officer named Ily Takka broke the case, foiled the attempt, and we all know what happened after that. At the time it happened, they created a perfect excuse for Sinklar to be placed in Regan custody. Doing so kept him safe from discovery. "

"You know," Sinklar stated matter-of-factly, "I don't believe a word of this. I meant it when I said Mac and I are leaving. Now. Unless, of course, our safe passage was a sham as well."

"And if it was," Mac said coolly, "Shik is going to blow the hell out of this ship-outgunned or not. We'll die before we'll be prisoners." Mac stepped

up to Staffa, who stood like a statue, a lonely devastation on his face. "I took your word, based on what we shared down there in the dark. Are we free to leave?"

Staffa nodded his head and whispered, "Yes." Then he looked at Sinklar, reaching out with his hand. "I swear… you're my son. If I could run a serology, HLA, or DNA test, I could prove it."

"I think, Lord Commander, that I've had enough of this. Like I said, I don't know the game, but Mac and I are going to bow out. Good day, sir. Wing Commander, it was a pleasure to meet you."

Sink pivoted on his heel and walked to the hatch, palming it. It slid open easily and he and Mac practically sprinted out into the hall. Ark waited with crossed arms, and at sight of their faces led them wordlessly back to the transport tube.

What did it all mean? Sinklar's mind reeled in disbelief. Staffa kar Therma? His father? And Arta-a clone? He growled to himself and thrust it all from his mind. The Lord Commander had to be mentally disturbed. Brilliance and insanity were often linked.

They rode in silence. Only after they'd safely passed through the hatch into the Regan shuttle and the pressure door had slid shut did Mac speak. "Sink? What in Rotted pollution happened in there?"

Sinklar brooded for a moment as the shuttle pulled free of the grapples and powered up. "I'll be thrice-cursed if I know." He thumped his fist into the back of the seat ahead of him. "It's got to be more Seddi plotting. Some ploy to throw me off balance, maybe a psychological setup. The Seddi have an obsession with that."

"I got the feeling Staffa really believed what he was saying. "

"I thought he was crazy," Sinklar muttered, an unsettled feeling in his soul. "Keep in mind, this is the Star Butcher. That man-no matter what he seemed like on Targa-killed billions. Billions. And Bruen? Would you believe anything he said? The man's a monster, a vile monster."

Mac slapped his legs nervously. "It's crazy, all right, and I'm glad we're out of it, away free and clear. "

"We've got enough problems looming on Rega. Ily wants us to subdue the population. She thinks only the First Targan can do it. We've got another world to conquer-the final one."

"Yeah, right.

"You don't sound happy."

Mac raised an eyebrow. "What about Ily Takka, Sink? I don't trust her any more than I trust old Bruen back there." Sinklar grinned wryly. "Hey, don't worry about her. Just

who do you think's gonna win this war? Ily's a cobra, cold, heartless, and tricky." Sink settled back in the seat. "But I think I can handle her-as long as I keep the First Targan behind me. "

"And you will," Mac promised, a frown marring his expression. "You'll always have us-no matter what." Sink leaned back, trying to concentrate on Rega, on the

problems he and the First Targan would face there. Things would change-and he, Sinklar Fist, would make it so.

He couldn't shake the memory of Chrysla staring at him from the holo cube. Her amber eyes burned in the back of his mind-haunting, so curiously familiar.

Staffa stood before the curving transparency in the command observation blister and watched Gyton and her transports boosting for Rega. Behind the glare of the Regan drives, the stars glistened like sugar crystals on soot-black. In the distance, light-years away, the shimmer of the Forbidden Borders mocked. Staffa locked his knees, fingers laced behind his back, as his son disappeared once again from his life.

Rotted Gods, how did this happen? He didn't believe a word I said. But then, put yourself in his place. Would you have believed?

He knew Skyla's tread from years of experience. "Do you want to be alone?" she asked softly. "I've been alone all my life."

"I'll be in my quarters if you need me."

"Just because I've been alone all my life doesn't mean I like it. "

"We broke the code on that Regan transmission we intercepted. " She stopped

beside him. "Tybalt has been assassinated. Sinklar is declared a Lord and has been placed in command of the Regan military. That's why the Comm First looked so wretched. Ily has evidently taken over the government."

"More bad news," Staffa whispered, voice husky. "Ily had to take Tybalt out. I can see her hand in that. We could have talked sense to Tybalt. He would have listened." He breathed a heavy, "Damn!"

"And he has no heir," Skyla reminded. "The Seddi plan to prohibit a Regan heir worked, Staffa. After they repaired the damage done to their network by the brain-probing of Tanya and Valient Fist, they changed their tactics.

Staffa shot her a quick look.

Skyla nodded. "I've been spending a lot of time talking to Bruen. He's a broken man, and he talks freely. They got to Tybalt's wife, Mareeah. They used a tailored virus to introduce a task specific RNA which changes the progesterone levels. Her eggs could never implant."

"And now the Seddi reap the vortex."

She hesitantly reached for one of his hands and he drew her close as her arm went around his waist.

"I came looking for him," Staffa added, voice hollow, indicating the light from Gyton's thrust. "People who search must accept what they find."

"I imagine you'll have another chance to speak to him. it will work out, Staffa. God, why is it so hard to say these things?"

"Because words are limited things, wretchedly overused when the subject becomes emotional." He continued to stare at the pinpoint of light.

"If I could change it, Staffa-"

"We all have so much we would change. Life, God, or the universe, don't give us that option for the past-only the future We perceive through the quantum wave function."

He looked down at her as she stood beside him. Starlight glistened in her pale hair and softened her white armor as shadows shaped to the sensual curves of her body. She'd crossed space for him — and brought him salvation in so many ways.

"Tell me," Staffa asked. "Do clones have souls? Are they part of God?"

"Well… I…" She shrugged. "I had a brief discussion with Kaylla before I came down here. She told me what you talked about in that box on the way to Targa. About the quanta, observation, and knowledge. If awareness, observation, and creation are shared God conscience, yes, a clone would have a soul."

She gave him a wary glance as he ran a finger down the faint scar on her cheek.

"Sinklar Fist has one gray eye and one amber." He held her at arms' length, her flesh firm and muscular under his hands. "Genetic dominance is a peculiar thing. Eye color traits are located at several loci in the chromosome."

"That's right."

"I'm his father. Chrysla was his mother. Simple dominance-recessive rules among the multiple alleles would dictate his eye color to be pretty much the same in both eyes. There would be variations in color but only slight ones. The alleles would be balanced."

"Unless the genetic structure of one parent was out of balance," she agreed warily.

"Once I asked the question: Who am I? I've found out. I… I never knew my parents. I only knew my creators." He closed his eyes. "The genes for one eye were constructed of dominant — the other completely recessive: hemizygous. The chromosomes pair and split in gamete production to create the haploid sex cells. Gray dominated the alleles for one chromosome but not the other. Something happened. I don't know what. Translocation? Position Effect? Recombination? Who knows? Chrysla's amber genes dominated the gray on the other chromosome. Damn it! Sinklar Fist has different color eyes because I… I…" He shut his eyes, jaws clamped, unable to say it.

"Because you're a clone. That's why you wanted to know about souls and God." She stared up at him, eyes like pools of blue.

He glanced at the disappearing Gyton and back at Skyla. "So much lost — so much found."

"Now all we have to do is teach a new epistemology,

enforce a peace, and shatter the Forbidden Borders." She reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

"Pretty tall order," Staffa told her.

"We've beat the odds before, Lord Commander. What makes you think this time will be different?"

He pulled her close and kissed her passionately. "Not a damn thing."