An Abyss of Light (The Light Trilogy) (20 page)

He strolled along the base of the high cliffs, inhaling deeply of the damp stone and pine.

CHAPTER 11

Around Capitol, the high mountains glimmered in the starlight. The rain had stopped, leaving dark clouds clustered over the peaks. Pines pierced the sky like dark spears. Mist huddled around their trunks, swirling in the breeze.

Jeremiel crouched on a forested hill overlooking the city. Towering triangular buildings clotted downtown Capitol. Reflective-paned windows gleamed ghostly in the murky light. The streets lay empty to the fog, though the landing field’s main gate swung wide open.

He shook his head, heaving a disgusted breath. What did they expect? That he’d take the bait and waltz right into their arms? “Surely you don’t think me that much of a fool?” he whispered to the cool damp wind. “Then again, maybe you do. You brave boys in purple aren’t known for being particularly bright.”

A frigid gust flattened his suit against his ribs as he stepped out to get a look at the corner of the spaceport. The twelve foot fence and a single gray building were visible. Six transport vessels dotted the landing field, but only one sat close enough to the fence that he might be able to get to it. From what he could tell, he’d have to walk down one street and up another to gain enough elevation to make his leap viable.

Where would they be waiting? On the field, in the buildings or hiding in the highlands around the perimeter?

He uneasily surveyed the forested hills, then pulled his pulse-pistol and set it on wide-field before tucking it back in the slanting pocket at his side. Silently, he strolled down onto Tenth Avenue. Around him, brick apartment buildings squatted. The narrow slitted windows threw irregular patches of light across his path. From somewhere singing and laughter rose, wafting down the cold empty streets.

The sounds warmed him. He hadn’t had a family since his father died when he’d turned fourteen, but he craved such togetherness. Loneliness stood as the single greatest debility of command. Soldiers feared getting too close to their generals, lest they discover the man’s or woman’s weaknesses. The only reliable general was an invincible one. Frail humans couldn’t be trusted.

He clenched his hands into fists, straining against his own impotence. Syene had understood. For three years she’d been his shield, a thin, shining blade that had flashed between him and the world, screening callers, never letting anyone see him unless he were in stern control of himself. No one but she knew the times he’d wept after losing soldiers to a poorly executed battle plan. No one but she knew the bouts of self-doubt that plagued his soul. Painful memories of her tinkly little-girl laugh haunted him. The sound rose so clearly in his mind that he thought he’d heard it. He jerked, starting to turn, hope bursting in his breast, before he physically stopped himself. Dead.
She was dead.

Steps faltering, he leaned a shoulder against a wall and stared sightlessly at the fog. His heart pounded painfully. The mist shifted, forming strange haunting shapes, almost faces, which melted instantly. He licked his lips and shook aside the perspiration-soaked ends of his blond hair where they glued themselves to his face.

He’d taken two steps forward when the scratchy sound of petrolon against fabric made him halt in his tracks.

“Real easy, mister,” the soft voice said from behind. “Get your hands up…. That’s real good. Now turn around. I want to see your face.”

Fool! Were you wallowing in your own sorrow and missed their approach?
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Jeremiel turned.

The marine held a rifle pointed at his stomach. Young with raven hair and hard green eyes, he looked like a combat veteran. His purple uniform showed dirt and worn sleeves. Not the gear of a martinet. He stepped forward and Jeremiel stifled a frantic urge to pull his pistol and kill the man. But the sound of fire would attract attention from all over Capitol. He’d spend the next two months in hiding and the Magistrates would tighten security around the spaceport. He’d never get off Kayan.

Smiling nervously, he spread his arms wide and walked to meet the marine. “What’s this all about, Lieutenant? I’m on my way home from work.”

“We’ve notified every business and every home. Don’t pretend you don’t know about the curfew. What’s your name?”

“Michael Schacter. I own my own equipment business on the other side of town. I’ve been working in my shop most of the day. I got no messages from the police.”

The marine scrutinized Jeremiel, examining every facial feature. Recognition dawned in his eyes. “You’re going to have to come with me to headquarters. We’re—”

“What?” Jeremiel demanded, stepping closer, readying himself. “I have a family waiting for me at home. How long is this nonsense going to take?”

The marine’s finger tightened on the trigger of his rifle and a prickle climbed Jeremiel’s spine. “
If you don’t back up, mister, you may never get home.”

“I’m backing.”

“Turn around and head for the spaceport.” He pointed up the street with his rifle. “I’ll be right here behind you.”

Jeremiel nodded hurriedly and walked into the silver veils of mist that eddied up the street. Gaunt pines clustered in the distance, towering somberly over the dark gray building.

“I don’t see any lustreglobes on in the terminal. Which building are we—”

“Just keep walking.”

“I’m going. Don’t get nervous.”

“Nerves aren’t one of my problems.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

As they neared the government installation, glossy-leafed ivy and wild grape appeared in planters along the streets. Wind whistled through the trees surrounding the landing field. Close … they were close.

“Take this left up here,” the lieutenant ordered.

Jeremiel complied and ducked beneath the overhanging branches of a Kayan oak. Thick berry brambles formed a jade wall on his right.

As the marine ducked to follow, he dropped his gaze for a split second. Jeremiel whirled and kicked out with all his might, knocking the lieutenant backward. The man reeled, tumbling into the berry bramble as he snapped a wild shot from his rifle. A violet beam lanced the fog, the shrill whine echoing from the buildings.

Damn it! The entire sector will be grabbing rifles and heading in this direction!
Jeremiel jerked his pistol from his pocket and leaped, trying to reach the soldier before he could get off another shot. “Hold it!” he shouted.

The lieutenant brought up the rifle again just as Jeremiel reached him. Instinctively, Jeremiel slammed the barrel away with his fist, sending the gun flying onto the wet street. The marine lunged desperately, knocking Jeremiel’s feet out from under him, trying to wrench the pistol from his strong grip.

“You … can’t make it, Baruch,” the marine panted, slamming a knee into Jeremiel’s side as he fought for the pistol. “We’ve got … people everywhere.”

Panic rushed like fire through Jeremiel’s veins. He heaved the marine aside and rolled on top of him, struggling to twist the pistol so the barrel aimed at his enemy’s head. If the boys in purple in the buildings had been unable to triangulate from the echoes of the first shot, another would make it easy. And bring the weight of Kayan’s military might down on him, but it didn’t look like he had a choice.

“Don’t be a fool … Baruch,” the marine gasped, gripping his forearm in iron hands and shaking, trying to dislodge the pistol. “Surrender. The Magistrates—”

“Will hang me from the highest tree.”

“You’ll get a trial.”

The marine thrust up violently, bashing an elbow repeatedly into Jeremiel’s temple. A light flashed in his head, momentarily stunning him. The marine wrenched the pistol from his hand and pushed from beneath him, in one move rolling away and lurching unsteadily to his feet.

“You damned bastard,” the marine accused, aiming the pistol at Jeremiel’s middle. “You just signed your death warrant.”

Jeremiel sat up, noticing absently the blood streaking his face in hot rivulets as he tensed, waiting for the shot. When it didn’t come, he gazed questioningly at the marine. The man stood, breast heaving, green eyes hard.

“Planning on collecting the reward?” Jeremiel said through a long exhalation. That seemed the only explanation for why he wasn’t already dead. Some strange part of his soul, deep down, felt a vague sense of relief at the thought of death, while the rest of him screamed for him to get up and do something.

The marine’s jaw moved with grinding teeth. In the background, fog wavered before the gray buildings. “Can’t. Government employees are prohibited.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“Don’t hardly think you’ll need to, friend. We’ll ship you directly to the neurophysiology department.” He smiled grimly. “After ‘chatting’ with them, you won’t need to remember anything ever again.”

“Something to look forward to,” Jeremiel groaned as he struggled to get his feet under him, falling back to the ground.

“Get up.”

“Just give me a second to—”

“I said
get up!”
the marine shouted, taking a threatening step forward.

Jeremiel swung around with lightning speed, kicking the marine behind the knees, sending him tumbling in the general vicinity of the rifle. Jeremiel leapt for him, shoving the pistol out of alignment as he reached for the rifle. He gripped the stock as the marine slammed a stunning right into his solar plexus. They rolled, grunting and gasping, until Jeremiel found himself on top. He jammed the rifle down across the soldier’s throat, throwing his entire two hundred pounds across the barrel. The lieutenant writhed, kicking wildly.

When the marine’s eyes rolled back in his head and his wild arms went slack, Jeremiel drew the knife from his boot and quickly slit the man’s throat. Wiping the bloody blade on his victim’s purple jacket, he dragged him into the dense green brambles. The wan light glistened from a pool of blood on the sidewalk, but at least the body lay hidden.

Pulling up his hood to hide his blond hair, Jeremiel slithered through the vines to get to the other side, then crawled quietly along the black shadow of the jade wall, wondering where in the hell the other marines were? Why hadn’t they come? Had they expected a diversionary maneuver and told their ambush team to stick tight? Or were they watching him even now, waiting for the best shot?

He shoved the rising alarm from his mind, quickening his pace through the bramble. When he reached the end, he lay on his stomach searching the darkness ahead. He’d passed the edge of the building complex. His hill rose only fifty yards away, but it would be a dash across a nearly treeless expanse of wet grass.

He wiped sweat from his eyes and squinted at the compound. Fog obscured much of the pad, rippling in the single bluish lustreglobe lighting the field. Nothing stirred.

But he could sense the ambush in his tightening gut. “You’re out there, goddamn you. I know it.”

Rolling to his side, he pulled his pistol and braced it on a thick vine, slowly scanning through the scope. Red glows dotted the field: Twenty-eight in all.

“Too many.
Too damned many.
”

Blood surged in his ears as he sucked in a halting breath. They really planned to stop him this time.

He turned his scope on the ship just over the fence. A small transport, it looked well-kept, but he couldn’t tell from this angle what sort of engines or weapons it possessed. Fear crawled in his gut.

“Just be fast, baby,” he whispered. If it had legs, he might be able to get the shields up and lift off before …

A crunch sounded in the bramble.

Jeremiel stiffened, holding his breath. An animal? The plop-plop of mist dripping from the vines seemed immensely louder in the silence. He lay still for a full five minutes, listening, then let out a relieved breath and squinted through his scope at the ship again. Crates filled the area in front of the doors marked “Customs,” stacked ten feet high in places. And a series of square-bodied loaders hugged the sides of the buildings.

Another crunch. Closer.

“Jeremiel?”

Rolling to his back, he slowly brought his pistol scope to bear on the tangled briar. The man crouched not more than thirty feet away, ugly with missing teeth and a square head. But he wasn’t dressed in purple.

God damn, how had he gotten so close?
Silently, he cursed himself for being exhausted, negligent, for calling attention to himself.

“Baruch! I’m a friend. I’ve come to help you.”

Possible?
Yes.
Gamants from all over the galaxy often risked their lives to aid him or his forces. But more likely this fellow was one of the many bounty hunters who dogged his trail. In any case, he couldn’t take the risk.

Jeremiel scanned the vines thoroughly, discovering two more men moving quietly toward him. They didn’t have a shot yet, but would shortly.

Heaving an anxious sigh, he shoved to his feet and charged the hill. Mist fluttered around him as he sprinted toward the fence.

Yosef reclined in one of the lavender passenger seats of
Seros,
staring distractedly around the cramped cabin. Refuse scattered the ship, a can here, a wadded sheet of crystal paper there. Beer bottles and candy wrappers created a growing mound in the corner. How many days had they been here now? His heart ached a little knowing he’d missed Ezarin’s funeral. Would he ever get to see his brother?