At last Her curiosity was satisfied, for She knew of him all there was to know. “Child,” she said, enfolding him in warmth, “you need not fear My wrath, for your heart and courage are worthy of My love, and the lonely melody of thy blood is joy to My ears, a song that shall forever live in My heart. I know the measure of thy Way, and that the time of My return draws near. You are The One who shall redeem the sins of others, and who in turn shall return to grace.”
She held him in Her heart that he would know Her love, and told him, “Do not fear the Darkness, My child. For while in this lonely place My eyes are blind to what is, to what will be, there shall come a day when I again will open My eyes to the light of the sun of the world of My birth, and smell the scents of the garden of the great palace that was built in My name. And on that day, My son, shall you be saved.”
Reza would have spoken then, but She held him, stilled him. “Until that day, you must live according to the Way you have chosen, for the glory and honor of She-Who-Reigns.”
She withdrew from around him, fading into the Nothingness from which She had come, into the voices of those whose spirits had comforted Her mourning heart through the ages. “Rise, My child,” she commanded from afar. “Awaken.”
Thirty-Three
“President Belisle, I demand an explanation.” Counselor Savitch was more than furious. She was outraged.
“I’ll be honest with you, counselor,” Belisle said, a sneer on his face as he looked out the closed French doors onto the still ash-covered balcony of his parliament office. The two of them were alone. Despite their protests, Savitch and Belisle both had insisted that her Marine bodyguards remain outside the door. “Your coming here was, shall we say, an unpleasant surprise,” he told her. “I had asked the Council for Marines to help the cowards in the Territorial Army keep the Mallorys in their place, but no one ever counted on getting a half-breed traitor like Reza Gard and that motley band of thugs in Marine uniforms.” He grimaced. “That was a mistake that no one was able to foresee.”
Melissa Savitch shivered at the hatred in the man’s voice, wondering what anyone could ever have done to him to make him so completely devoid of compassion toward a fellow human soul. But he didn’t think of Reza as human, did he? she thought.
“Yes,” he went on, almost as if to himself, “he really took me by surprise, and calling you in made it a damned bleeding liberal party.” He turned from the glass doors to face her, a sly, serpentine smile on his face. “But that’s all in the past, let me assure you.”
“Just what is that supposed to mean?”
“It means, counselor, that your services are no longer required,” a new voice said. Behind her, the door to one of the three anterooms adjoining Belisle’s office had opened, and a Marine whom she had never seen before silently stepped into the room.
“I’d like you to meet Colonel Markus Thorella, commander of the First Guards Marine Assault Regiment,” Belisle said as he began backing away from her.
She was about to say something when her eyes caught sight of the dark metal shape in Thorella’s hand.
“Sorry, counselor,” he said. His voice did not sound particularly apologetic.
Thorella’s predatory smile was the last thing she saw before the blast from his pistol vaporized her skull.
“Sir!” shouted the comms technician from her console. “We’ve got trouble!”
“What now?” Washington Hawthorne growled, covering the distance to the lance corporal’s position in three great strides.
“Sergeant Bayern radioed ‘Black Watch,’ then she went off the air,” the comms tech said as her fingers flew over the console’s controls. “I haven’t been able to raise her again. No contact with PFC Morita, either.”
Hawthorne’s face grew tight, his fists clenching tight. “She didn’t get out what it was?”
“No sir,” the comms tech told him. “But I heard what sounded like firing, pulse guns.” She paused. “Two shots. I think Bayern was already hit when she called in.”
Hawthorne’s blood ran cold with anger. “Goddamn,” he hissed.
“What happened?” Enya asked quietly, afraid of what she might hear. “What is ‘Black Watch?’”
Hawthorne turned to her, his eyes angry white orbs in his black face. “That’s a shorthand code for what we call a losing proposition, when Death has you by the collar and you’ve only got time to get out a word or two. Two Marines, and probably Counselor Savitch, are gone. Dead.”
“My Lord,” Enya whispered, getting unsteadily to her feet. “Why? What could have happened?”
Hawthorne turned on her, his voice savage not because he wanted it to be, but because he needed the truth, and fast. “Were any of the Mallorys planning anything against Belisle or Savitch? Anything?”
Enya shook her head, shocked that he would even consider such a thing. “Of course not,” she said angrily, her own fears boiling up inside. “We had everything to gain from the Counselor’s intervention, and literally nothing to lose. None of the Mallorys, even the farthest fringes, planned anything but cooperation with her. We did not trust Belisle – as I see now was wise – but we were not planning anything against him. We have suffered too much and waited too long for what the counselor promised to deliver. Only now it looks as though it was all in vain.”
Hawthorne nodded, relieved. “I’m sorry Enya, but I had to know.”
She nodded that she understood. “What will you do?” she asked.
“I’m not sure yet,” he said, uncomfortable with the situation. His choices were extremely limited. It had been bad enough sitting a few kilometers from some kind of Kreelan-induced cataclysm, the full effects of which they could not even guess at. Now he had to deal with what appeared to be treachery and murder on the part of fellow humans. “It looks like we’ll have to send a recon patrol in to find Savitch, but–”
“Reza!” Enya suddenly exclaimed as she saw the Marine captain emerge from behind the curtain that separated his sick-bed from the ops center. His face was extraordinarily pale, even in this dim light. She ran over to help him as he began to slump against the wall. Hawthorne was close behind. “You should be in bed!” Enya told him as she helped him up. “You look terrible.”
He shook his head, a look of impatience on his face.
“Captain,” Hawthorne said as he took over from Enya in helping Reza, wrapping one tree-trunk of an arm around his commander’s waist.
“Washington,” he rasped as his exec settled him onto one of the metal chairs clustered around the tactical display, “we are in grave, grave danger.”
“What do you mean, sir?” Hawthorne handed Reza a canteen, from which Reza drank greedily. He was soaked with sweat, dehydrated.
“First, tell me exactly what happened when I passed out.”
Hawthorne turned to Enya, who guiltily explained everything that had happened in the mountain and since then. Reza listened in silence, his eyes focused on the wall, on something only he could see.
“What does it mean?” she asked when she was through. “What will happen to us? To Erlang?”
“Very likely,” Reza said, “this world will be destroyed.” They sat in stunned silence as he went on. “You have stumbled upon something that has been lost to the Empire for over one hundred thousand years, something that they value over all else in the Universe: the tomb of the First Empress. She was the most powerful of their kind who has ever lived.” He paused for a moment, taking another drink. “I have no doubt that every available Kreelan warship within hundreds of parsecs is heading here at this very moment.”