Treasure of Light (The Light Trilogy) (68 page)

“Yosef,” Ari murmured hoarsely. “We have to hurry. I think this means we’ve lost Engineering. We have to—”

“Good guess, old man,” Dannon said, though he knew that wasn’t the case. If Tahn’s people had recaptured Engineering, they’d have already corrected the com virus and flooded every deck but their own with toxic gas—that or decompressed the ship again.

Neil straightened up as Funk pointed his pistol; it shook in the wrinkled fist. “Yosef, we have to get rid of Dannon and go find Sybil and Mikael. They’re probably—”

“Yes,” Yosef murmured in agony. “Let’s hurry.”

Ari stepped forward, extending a hand to get Dannon moving in the right direction. Neil whirled with the supreme grace of a ballet dancer, gripping Funk’s arm and twisting it until the old man cried out in pain. Dannon grasped the pistol and stepped back, leveling it at Calas’ chest. Drop your gun, old man!”

Calas did as instructed, gently placing his pistol on the floor. Neil reached down and picked it up and tucked it in the waistband of his trousers.

Calas rushed to Funk’s aid, shoving up his sleeve to look at his hurt arm. Ari made a choked back sound of agony. The wounded look in Calas’ faded eyes made Neil wince.

“I didn’t break it,” Dannon assured, backing farther down the corridor. “Get out of here, you two old fools. Tahn’s people don’t have any soft spots for Gamants. Go find some place safe to hide.”

Calas’ mouth puckered as he gently stroked Funk’s arm. He looked up at Neil angrily. “Where is that, Mister Dannon? I don’t believe any safe place exists for Gamants anymore—not in this galaxy.”

Neil regripped his pistol. From out of the depths of his memories Jeremiel’s deep voice spun like a silken web of sound,
“Without us, Neil, there’ll be no sanctuaries for Gamants. No place where any of our people will be able to sleep two nights in a row. I know you hate this. I don’t like it either. But it’s either the Underground, or oblivion.”

Neil shuddered. He could still clearly feel the weight of Jeremiel’s strong hand on his shoulder, squeezing warmly.

Calas watched him through sharp eyes as though he suspected something of what Neil must be feeling. He left Funk’s side to hobble forward. His wizened face slackened into kinder lines. He looked up, unafraid of the pistol Neil leveled at his bald head.

“Mister Dannon, it’s never too late. Our side still needs trained soldiers. Come back to us?” He extended a withered old hand.
“Come back.
…”

Neil clamped his jaw, fighting the urge to grasp those elderly fingers. “You think Jeremiel will forgive my sins, Calas? Don’t be a fool. He wants me dead.”

“I don’t think he does. I think he hates you only because he still loves you so much and he has to punish himself for those feelings; it’s tearing him apart.”

An old and brutal ache stirred in Neil’s breast. “Get out of here, Calas. Go find a niche in one of the bays. They’re nonessential. Tahn’s people won’t check them until they have leisure time. Which shouldn’t be for a few hours.”

He turned and ran lightly down the corridor, heading for the bridge where he knew emergency supplies existed. But he couldn’t get Calas’ words out of his mind—they lingered like a festering stab wound in his heart.

Yosef watched Dannon disappear down the hall and looked anxiously at Ari. “Where can we go, Ari?”

“Engineering.”

“But I thought you said—”

“I did, but that look on Dannon’s face made me rethink.” Ari waved his good arm disgustedly. “If Tahn’s balloon brains were in Engineering, every Gamant aboard would be dead. Come on. Those have to be our people in there.”

Holding his injured arm, Ari trudged down the hall, stepping wide around the dead bodies that littered the floor. Yosef swallowed to keep his stomach down, and followed in Ari’s footsteps.

CHAPTER 51

The 20th of Tishri.

Morning sunlight burned along the edges of the highest cliffs like a flaming curtain of woven cornsilk. Pavel’s eyes drifted over the magnificence. The towering stone wall that sheltered Block 10 rose at least a thousand feet straight up from the valley floor. Today, they had the photon shield turned low, extending only twenty feet beyond the walls. High above, ser hawks soared on thermals, wings spread in a gesture of such freedom that Pavel felt his captivity like a hangman’s noose against his throat.

Around him, grunts and gasps slashed the air. Men and women worked tirelessly to complete the new wing of the hospital. The Magistrates had sophisticated equipment which could accomplish the task far more quickly and efficiently, yet they forced the prisoners to build and build until they thought they’d drop from the ravages of heat and thirst. Beside him, Jasper labored to lift another shovelful of dirt into the back of a truck. His thin arms trembled with the effort.

Pavel wiped his sweaty forehead on his forearm, glancing fearfully at the black ships that dotted the azure sky. Guards had come and herded the boys away that morning—just to talk to them the guards said, just to give them a little lecture about anatomy. And every hour that passed, a chill bubble of fear swelled larger in Pavel’s chest until now he felt desperate to run and find Yael.

“Grandpa, I’m worried about Yael. Maybe they’d let me just go look—”

“Don’t be foolish. You saw what happened to young Pona. They mowed him down without a second thought for asking for an extra ration of bread. Stay put. Yael will be all right. And there’s nothing you can do just now anyway.”

“But, Grandpa, what if they find out—”

“There’s nothing you can do.”
Jasper hefted another shovel-load of dirt, wobbling on his weak knees. “Besides, they told us all to be prepared for a special show at seven-thirty. If you’re missing, there’s no telling what they’ll do.”

Pavel nodded obediently, but continued to worry. None of them had seen any of the women, and they’d been marched all over camp several times. Had they moved them? Ships came and went all the time. They could have. His mind had been wound so tightly around Yael, he’d barely thought of Aunt Sekan. It made him ashamed of himself. And his father, dear Epagael, how was his father? Dead? Yes … almost certainly. Tears welled uncontrollably in his eyes. He stopped working, leaning on the handle of his shovel.

“Grandpa, are you all right?”

“Don’t worry about me. You’re the one they beat half to death. How are you?”

Pavel gazed forlornly into those wise old eyes. A sheen of sweat glazed Jasper’s bald head, puddling in the wrinkles of his long face.

“I’ll make it.” He inhaled deeply of the searing air, steadying himself.

“Did you tell the doctors who bandaged your ribs that Lichtner and his boys did it?”

Pavel put all of his weight into his shovel, adding to the growing mound in the truck, delaying answering. Grandpa would chastise him, tell him he should have stood up for himself, but he couldn’t help what he’d done. He was more afraid than he’d ever been in his life. “I told them I fell down the stairs outside the amphitheater.”

“You… !” Grandpa began, then silently recanted. “Well, maybe that was for the best. But they might have been able to put a stop to such brutality if you’d told them the truth.”

“Maybe. But I believe Lichtner’s threats. I don’t want any more trouble.”

Jasper tried to lift another shovelful but lost his balance and stumbled into the hot metal tailgate. The blue truck was a monstrous thing, holding maybe ten tons of dirt, and they’d barely dented the gaping maw.

“Grandpa, why don’t you sneak around the side of the truck into the shadows. I’ll keep watch on the ships to make sure they don’t catch on. Rest for a while. I’ll keep shoveling. Maybe they won’t notice you’re gone until you feel better.”

“Why are there so many ships today? Are we such threatening men?”

Jasper braced a hand on the tailgate to support himself while he made his way to the shadows. He gripped Pavel’s shoulder lovingly as he passed by, but Pavel barely noticed; his eyes were glued to the ships. They didn’t move and he heard no scathing voice boom over the speakers.

“I think you’re safe, Jasper. Sit down. Rest your legs.”

“You’re a good boy, Pavel. You know that?”

“I thought you didn’t like me, Grandpa.”

“Don’t be foolish. I’ve just been trying to teach you to be a fighter. I only spent time on you because I love you. But you’d never listen to me. You thought I was just a crazy old man.”

“I was young—in more ways than one.”

He threw his weight behind his shovel, working enough for two men. He didn’t know how long he’d be able to keep it up, but maybe long enough for Jasper to catch his breath. They’d no right,
no right,
to force a three-hundred-year-old man to work like a field animal.

“Pavel?”

“What?”

“What do you think this show is today?”

The sweat on his body suddenly chilled. He shivered, shoveling harder. “I don’t know. I’m worried about it.”

“You’ve heard the rumors?”

Harshly, he answered, “I don’t believe them! What would Jeremiel be doing here? Eh? Why would he come to the pit of darkness without his fleet at his back?
It’s impossible.”

Jasper wheezed softly. “I hope to God you’re right.” Then, as though gathering his strength, he paused. “Pavel? What did those doctors tell you? You’ve been talking about it in your sleep. Tossing and turning like it’s driving you mad.”

He paled. “Have I?”

“Yes, but I don’t understand most of the things you say. And I want to know what’s going on. Tell me.”

He’d been hoping Grandpa wouldn’t ask, hoping no one would. Not that most of them would understand, but Lichtner had been clear—
tell no one.
He vied with himself for a minute, then two, finally deciding Jasper had a right to know. Besides, Pavel could trust him and he desperately needed to talk about it.

“You can’t tell anyone, Grandpa. I know they’re all asking, but if Lichtner were to—”

“I won’t tell!”

“All right,” he sighed. “The Magistrates are toying with the notion that Gamants possess their own brand of mental illness.”

“Bah! What? They think we’re all crazy?”

“Crazy and dangerous. They’re using the rebellions of the past and the Gamant Leader’s journey through the
Mea
to God as examples of our bizarre delusional behavior.”

“The
Mea’s
not bizarre.”

“To them it is. They consider it to be a symbol of our particular brand of lunacy.”

“It’s a source of comfort, not insanity. Gamant children are raised knowing that if things really get bad, they can go talk to God to get it worked out.”

“And Magisterial citizens are raised believing comfort comes from Slothen’s economic system.”

“That’s because they’re stupid. Do you feel comfortable? Eh?” Jasper waved an arm irritably.

“Not at this particular moment, but I used to. I never needed to take a trip to ask Epagael for advice. The government lulled us into believing we were safe, valued citizens of the regime.”

“So what do these hoity-toity doctors think the problem is with our brains?”

Pavel gazed around at the men working nearby. Starved and exhausted beyond comprehension, none seemed to be paying them the slightest attention. Some still bore the blackening bruises of the fight last night in the cafeteria. One desperately hungry old man had snatched a piece of bread from his neighbor’s plate and tried to run away with it. A gang had gathered to chase him down, beating him until they could take it away and divide it amongst themselves. Now, beneath the hot sun, sweat flooded down their dusty bodies, leaving trails of mud. Their tortured faces reminded him of the painted hollow-eyed masks worn by theater actors. Fill the shovel and lift, that’s all they knew on this terrible day.

Pavel exhaled tiredly and answered Jasper’s query. “They think there’s an imbalance of some sort that makes us feel vulnerable even when there’s no threat. They see our—”

“No threat!
Where the hell have they been?
They’ve blasted a half dozen of our planets in the past year! The idiots. Of course we feel vulnerable! And what does feeling vulnerable have to do with the
Mea?”

“They say our trips to Epagael are our brains’ way of coping with it—by creating comforting delusions.”

“And what do they think causes the vulnerability?”

“A genetic malfunction. An excess of endorphins or too many receptors—”

“Like the fishes?”

“That’s dolphins.” Pavel shook his head, wanting to laugh for the first time in a week. But he couldn’t quite remember the sound. “It’s a lot different. These are chemicals involved in the brain’s reward system—”

“Malfunction, hooey!” Jasper grunted and Pavel saw him extend his long legs across the sand, knees still shaking beneath his thin white robe. “They’re worried, that’s what. Old Zadok went to talk to Epagael during the last Revolt and we wiped out a few hundred thousand Magisterial soldiers. I bet they wish they could get their filthy blue hands on a
Mea
so they could go through, too!”