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“What do you want?” Hodgkins demanded.

Zhoh squatted down beside her and held the wrench upright beside him. He swung his tail forward, making his captive tilt her head back to keep the venomous tip from breaking the skin at her throat.

“To see you dead for your treachery,” Zhoh answered.

“Who are you?”

“I am Captain Zhoh GhiCemid, a true warrior of the Phrenorian Empire.”

Recognition flared in her dark eyes. “Rangha told me about you. You're
kalque
, and not fit to be part of the Phrenorian Empire. They sent you out here to bury you.”

Zhoh barely restrained the rage that filled him. His grip on the wrench tightened and all he could think about doing was crushing the female's skull with it. He raked her with the tip of his tail enough to leave a scratch that must have burned from the venom. The poison wouldn't kill her, but she would be in pain until she got meds.

“I am going to bring Rangha down,” Zhoh promised. “His association with you is going to cost him everything.”

“His association wasn't with me,” Hodgkins said. “It was with Velesko Kos. I just picked up the pieces after Kos got himself killed.” She rubbed at her jaw, careful not to touch the scratch, which already looked inflamed. “Are you planning on cutting yourself into the deal?”

“No.”

The noise of assault weapons being fired died away on the other side of the shuttle bay and Zhoh knew he was running out of time.

Mato shoved his head out of the shuttle cockpit. “I have found the case. It contained a computer that has records of the transactions she has done with General Rangha and others.”

“Can you delete mention of the general?”

“Yes.”

“Then do it.”

“That will leave gaps in the information. It would be easier to simply destroy it.”

“That would be even more suspicious than the gaps,” Zhoh said. “I don't want the Terrans to have any information about Phrenorian involvement with this woman.”

The female laughed sharply. “So that's what this is about? A cover-­up?” She scratched her neck and reached to the back of her collar.

Zhoh stood and hefted the wrench.

Sage and the female sergeant rounded a shuttle a hundred meters away and approached at a run.

“This is going to be interesting,” Hodgkins said. “You're working with the Terran Army and they're going to arrest me. How are you going to keep me from talking to them?”

“You will be dead before they get here,” Zhoh promised, knowing he was giving her no choice.

Hodgkins reached into the back of her collar and brought out a small handgun. Zhoh had no chance to identify the weapon before she fired, and he was already swinging the wrench.

The bullet slammed into Zhoh's chest, hitting him high and hard, penetrating the chitin and knocking him back just as the heavy wrench split Hodgkins's head open and scattered blood over the deck. The small pistol dropped from the female's quivering hand.

Letting go of the wrench, Zhoh calmly reached into his medpack and drew out two bandages. The bullet had cored through his chest and exited his back, leaving a much larger wound on its departure. A whistling hiss of air sounded behind him where the round ripped through the bulkhead and atmosphere was leaking out the hole.

A Klaxon shrieked and red lights started spinning around on the ceiling.

“Captain!” Mato called from the shuttle.

“I am fine,” Zhoh replied, even though he felt weak and his insides still trembled from the shock of the bullet passing through his body. It had not killed him. He would grow strong once more.“There should be a patch kit aboard the shuttle. Give Hodgkins's computer to Sergeant Sage and see to the hole in the bulkhead. Things are going to be confusing for a time, and it would be best if we could eliminate one of the most critical threats while the rest gets sorted.”

“Of course, Captain.” Mato handed the computer off to Sage, who appeared to be distracted, either from the wound, which had bled down his armor, or by communicating with the ship's captain and arranging the situation as best as he could before more sec teams arrived.

Zhoh thought Sage's disengagement from the dead woman was probably a combination of both. The bullet wound in Zhoh's chest throbbed painfully, but he ignored that, thinking of his coming meeting with General Rangha and how that would go.

But the female sergeant was engaged in the here and now. She stood before Zhoh in a challenging manner that he would not normally have allowed. However, temporary accommodations had to be made.

“Did you have to kill her?” the female sergeant demanded.

“I did not wish to be shot again, Sergeant. Her aim might have improved.” Zhoh knew there was no argument to that.

“You should have searched her for weapons.”

“I was about to do that.”

“Why did she try to shoot you with you standing right there?”

Zhoh focused on the dead female, knowing he had pushed her to the limit. “I think, Sergeant, she was distressed. We all live in desperate times these days.”

Frustration showed in the female sergeant's body language. She hesitated a moment, as if she might speak further, then she walked away to help Mato with repairing the bulkhead.

 

THIRTY-­FIVE

Compartment 683-­TAOPHQ (Terran Army Offplanet Headquarters)

Space Station DSC-­24L19

Loki 19 (Makaum)

LEO 332.7 kilometers

1128 Zulu Hours

S
age hadn't dreamed of Sombra de la Montána so deeply in years. That place and the years spent there were things he took out occasionally in the quiet times in a bar or during PT, places and instances when he could be alone with his thoughts because he didn't want to share that part of his life with anyone.

He wasn't sure why the village was so much in his mind now. It wasn't just his parents. He kept memories of his mother and father close to him at all times. Usually he thought of them, but they had lives in the village and in Texas.

Since he'd gotten free of the
Hooded Vorol
, he'd been commanded to ship over to the DawnStar space station, where General Whitcomb kept his offices, to be debriefed. Colonel Halladay had met him there, and had brought a physician to tend to Sage's wound and the stimpak shakes that had settled in.

Halladay hadn't spoken much, just listened while Sage related what had happened aboard the
Hooded Vorol
, and had taken possession of Ellen Hodgkins's computer. He'd sent it by military courier to Pingasa at the fort with instructions to get all the information off of the device that he could.

After that, they had gone to the general's outer office and taken seats to await the general's pleasure, which seemed like it might be some time in coming because there was a steady flow of diplomats and lawyers from various corps. All in all, the general had a circus on his hands and Sage didn't feel guilty in the slightest. They'd been chasing things since yesterday morning and still hadn't gotten out in front of them.

Even with the thought of having his stripes yanked, possibly being discharged from the Army, and almost certainly being returned to his old training position, Sage slept in an uncomfortable chair outside the general's office. He knew he'd done what he could today, and tomorrow would have to wait. If he got sent back to training, he'd start fighting all over again.

Or maybe he would hire on with a private security firm trying to save assets from the Phrenorians. One way or another, he could get back in the war. He wanted to stay with the Terran Army, though. That had been the only other family he'd ever had.

Maybe that was why he dreamed of Sombra de la Montána. He'd lost that family then, and he guessed he was about to lose this one. Most of the dreams were of that day the Colombians attacked and killed so many of the ­people he had known and grown up with.

He was kneeling with his mother, trying to stop all the blood pouring out of Manolo Paredes, the old man who took children fishing with him from time to time, when a soft hand gripped his forearm and shook it gently.

Sage blinked his eyes open and found Quass Leghef standing in front of him. The woman looked tired, but she was dressed in full regalia, a spidersilk dress festooned with jeweled insect wings and polished bits of wood. For a moment Sage thought the Quass's hands were covered in blood as his mother's had been in the dream, but she was wearing long maroon cuffs to accentuate the dress.

“Master Sergeant Sage, I apologize for waking you,” the Quass said.

Sage started to get to his feet, but Leghef held him down. “No, ma'am, it's not a problem.” He glanced over at Halladay, who was awake now as well. Sage distinctly remembered the colonel snoring.

“I'm glad you're all right,” Leghef said.

“Thank you, ma'am.”

“I also hear that you captured the men who attacked the fort.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Apparently that trail led you to other successes.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“I understand that you can't talk to me about it, but I believe I have most of the story.”

Sage didn't know what to say to that.

Behind the Quass, also looking resplendent, Pekoz stood patiently.

“I assume you're waiting to talk with General Whitcomb,” the Quass said.

“Yes, ma'am.” Sage didn't think there was going to be a lot of talking going on once he and Halladay were in the office with the general.

“Let's see if we can hurry things along.” Leghef tapped the purple-­and-­white
draorm
that encircled Sage's left wrist, smiled as though pleased, and took him by the arm to get him to stand. “Colonel, if you'll join us.”

Looking a little uncertain, Halladay got to his feet. “Yes, ma'am, but the general likes to do things his way and in his own time.”

“I'm sure we won't take up much of the general's time,” Leghef assured him, and she guided Sage to the general's door.

The blond female corporal Sage had met the first time he'd gotten an earful of General Whitcomb sat at the desk. She looked over at Sage in disbelief, who shrugged slightly, then put on a sterner look as she addressed Leghef. “Ma'am, you can't just—­”

“It's all right,” the Quass said. “I know the way.”

The corporal started to say something else, but Pekoz interrupted. “Young lady, this is the Quass Leghef. I believe it will be fine for her to see the general. He's expecting her.”

Defeated, the corporal raised her eyebrows at Sage and silently mouthed,
Wow
.

In spite of his current situation, Sage winked at the corporal, and then he followed Leghef into the general's office.

General Howard Whitcomb sat comfortably at his desk. He looked older today than he had the last time Sage had been there. Short gray bristles covered his round head and the gray beard growth showed he'd been up for a while. He sucked in on his right cheek as he listened to the man before him, and the effort made the old scar there pucker more deeply. He looked small against the vid port of open space behind him. Other space stations and starships floated in orbit below the green planet that claimed a large chunk of the view.

Sage and Halladay stood straight and saluted, their covers put under their elbows.

“General, sir,” Halladay said in a firm voice, “Colonel Halladay and Master Sergeant Sage reporting as requested.”

Whitcomb stared at them, and a red flush darkened his face. “You two were supposed to wait outside till I sent for you.”

“I asked the colonel and the sergeant to join me,” Leghef said. “They're wasting their time sitting outside when they have so much to do.” She looked at the man sitting in one of the two chairs in front of the general.

Seated comfortably, wearing an expensive suit, the man looked to Sage like he was part of the diplomatic corps. He had that perpetual young, energetic look about him, like a polished stone in someone's collection.

“Quass Leghef, it's so good to see you,” the diplomat said. “I'm sorry it has to be under these circumstances.”

“Thank you, Guariento, but you can go now,” Leghef said.

Guariento blinked his eyes and looked shocked. The youthful look aged about ten years and he didn't look so peppy. “Excuse me?”

“I'm going to need that chair and two more,” Leghef said, “so go fetch them from outside and go on about your next appointment.”

“Quass, have I done something—­”

Leghef sat herself in the other chair in front of the general's desk. “Not yet you haven't. I still need those chairs.”

Guariento looked at Whitcomb but got no help there. He stood, nodded, and buttoned his jacket. “Of course, Quass.” He left the room.

“Quass,” Whitcomb said hoarsely, “with all due respect, I have a calendar full of appointments. Surely you realize—­”

“Would you like to compare calendars, General?” Leghef asked with an edge of contempt. “You're running a fort from up here, and I'm down there running a world that is trying to fall to pieces. I've got meetings scheduled with you, with the Phrenorians, with the (ta)Klar, and with several of the corps, in addition to my own ­people. If you don't wish to talk, I'm certain I could shorten my list.”

“Madam, I would like to meet with you, but I'd like to suggest another—­better—­time.” Whitcomb almost sounded polite.

Leghef gestured to Sage and Halladay. “Return their salute, General, so they can join us.”

“I don't see why they need to be party to whatever discussion we're about to have.”

“Your inability to see such a thing is partly why we're having this discussion,” Leghef said.

Reluctantly, Whitcomb saluted and leaned back in his chair, preparing to recover his battleground.

Guariento returned with two chairs. Pekoz helped him with the door, then took one of the chairs for himself. Halladay, closer to the diplomat, took the other chair, crossed the room, and sat his chair beside the Quass, leaving the chair on the other side for Sage.

The diplomat stood looking lost.

“Thank you, Guariento,” Leghef said. “That will be all.”

Guariento left, and he looked relieved to be doing so.

“Quass Leghef,” Whitcomb said, obviously deciding to fire the first salvo, “forcing your way in here is egregious.”

“You're right. I should have made you force your way into my house, but I'm particular about who I invite there.”

Sage made himself keep a straight face, and he couldn't believe how adamant the woman was.

“As to the order of business,” Leghef went on, “I want these two men to return to my planet with me. Nothing else will be acceptable. They both have things to do to continue providing protection for my ­people, and I disparage of the way you've seen fit to take them away from us.”

“Madam, Quass or not—­”

“I am Quass for certain, General, and make no mistake about that. I have the majority of the Quass behind me and I am here representing their wants. And they want these men returned. They—­
I
—­want soldiers who are on the planet with us, who are facing the same dangers we are.”

Whitcomb's face purpled. “You cannot come into my office and tell me how to run my army.”

“No, but according to our treaty agreement with the Terran Alliance, I do have the power to say whether you have a fort on Makaum.” Leghef let that hang for a moment. “So do you want to listen to my
suggestions
, General? Or would you rather pack up your fort and go?”

Whitcomb glared at Leghef. “Do you know how long you ­people would last against the Phrenorians? The minute the Terran Army pulls out, they'll take you ­people.”

“They will,” Leghef agreed. “And with the way the Phrenorian War is headed this way, Makaum is going to be an important world to have for resources to fight that war. Do you want to tell the Terran Alliance that you cost them this world? Because that's exactly what I'll tell them.”

For a moment, Sage thought Whitcomb was going to continue the fight, that he was going to test Leghef's resolve, then the general's shoulders bowed slightly and Sage knew it was over.

“I have received a bill for reparations to the damage that was done to your city,” Whitcomb said. “I needn't tell you that we're not going to pay that. Since you expressly desired Colonel Halladay and Master Sergeant Sage to pursue the ­people who ambushed
my
fort.”

“You weren't going to get it done,” Leghef said. “As for payment, don't bother. The Phrenorians have already been in touch and are offering to pay the cost for repairs. I think all of us are glad to hear that Green Dragon corp has decided to pull out of Cheapdock, and probably off of Makaum.” She stood. “So do whatever you see fit, General.” She turned to Halladay and Sage. “Let's go. Tonight there is a party, and both of you are going to be my guests.”

Halladay and Sage stood, saluted Whitcomb, who delivered an unenthusiastic response, and performed an about-­face before following the Quass out of the office.

As they waited for the elevator to take them down to the shuttle to return to Makaum, Sage looked at Leghef. “Thank you, Quass.”

She smiled at him and touched the
draorm
again. “I could do no less, Master Sergeant, and I am happy to have helped.”