He turned to his task of finding Sinklar Fist and took three steps before the package in his hands exploded with force enough to scatter pieces of his body for tens of meters.
Sinklar listened to the last of Kap's report on the mobilization and looked up at Mhitshul's soft cough. His aide pointed to one of the comm monitors in the cramped LC command cubicle. Was he going to live the rest of his life in the cramped quarters of an LC?
"Stay in touch, Kap. You're doing a great job." He cut his connection and swiveled in the command chair. Ily's features formed in the monitor Mhitshul had indicated.
"I take it everything went according to plan? You didn't have any trouble with Fera?"
"Safe and sound, Lord Fist." She smiled at him. Sinklar could see severe gray bulkheads curving up immediately behind Ily's head. Apparently her FT didn't offer much, elbow room. "I'm not taking any chances with Fera. She's too dangerous. I put her in a collar. She's already had a demonstration of its effect and she's been mellow as a kitten."
"Don't take any risks." Sink leaned back, unease eating;
at his subconscious. What is it about you, Ily? Why do I always have the feeling you know more than you let on? "I assume you're leaving orbit?"
"We should be on Rega by the time you finish crushing the Seddi."
Sink nodded, stretching his aching back muscles. "Very well Minister. We shall await word from you before shipping for Rega. I'd hate to arrive to an unfriendly welcome."
"Timing will be everything." Then a gleam filled her dark;
eyes and she gave him a wicked smile. "I have talked to Rysta. She hates it, but she will not buck the jessant-delis — or me. Commander Braktov informs me she will accede to your every demand. She also informs me she accepts your command under protest — and is filing a statement to that effect with the Emperor."
"Can that inhibit the Seddi campaign?
"By the time her protest goes through channels I shall be on Rega." Ily grimaced. "Won't be a fun trip under that sort of acceleration, but necessary, I'm afraid. Tybalt will have received my report by then. Don't worry. I'll attend to all the difficulties at that end. You and your troops will arrive to a heroes' welcome."
"Have a good trip Minister Takka."
Her lips parted slightly, and her eyes seemed like dark pools — oddly stirred. "Have a good war Lord Sinklar. And may our future be bright." The screen flickered and went dead.
Sinklar frowned as he settled back into the command chair. What hidden message had she been giving him? Fill-
ing his lungs, he bent over the combat board again, only to find his attention wandering to that last look of promise. She'd almost appeared girlish, more attractive than usual.
He blinked, haf-ashamed that he might have compromised Gretta's memory and forced himself to address the tactica problems of crushing a mountain stronghold.
Staffa lifted the light bar and squinted. They had reached the end of the ancient tunnel in the rock. A dusty door blocked the way. Staffa glanced around, wary of the low ceiing and the encroaching stone that hemmed his broad shoulders. The dust underfoot showed no sign of passage. How long had this secret way been abandoned?
"This is it." Kaylla tapped a code into the lock where it mounted flush to the dusty stone. Staffa threw his head back, breathing deeply of the cool musty air. How far down had they come? Claustrophobia preyed upon him even though the corridors and tunnels held more air than most starships. Rationally, he could prove to himself these tunnels were safer. Here a crack in the wall didn't mean death by decompression.
"That's got it," Kaylla muttered to herself as she bent her athletic frame to the portal and heaved.
Nothing happened.
"Here, you hold the light and let me try," Staffa suggested. He put a shoulder to the stained duraplast. "How long's this been closed?"
Kaylla — barely visible behind the light bar — shrugged. "Who knows? Bruen says he was the last one here. That was with Hyde a couple of centuries ago."
Staffa braced himself and strained. The thick door reaked and gave, swinging easily once it passed the sill.
Rock might have shifted," Staffa admitted, studying the lintel.
Kaylla pushed past into the room. "Shut the door. We don't want any more moisture to creep in here than necessary."
Staffa pulled the heavy door shut, noting the tight fit. He turned to inspect the sanctum sanctorum of the Seddi.
e room measured no more than six by four meters.
Crowded antique wooden shelves of native pine sagged, suffering from dry rot and fungus. Staffa walked over to a globe that piqued his curiosity. It stood on a metal stand in one comer.
"You know that planet?" Kaylla came over, bringing the light bar with her.
"No." Staffa reached out and turned it, noting the shape of the continents and the vast expanses of blue which had to indicate seas. Cracks laced the dust-coated plastic.
'The alphabet is standard." Staffa shook his head. "But the names?"
Kaylla squinted. "Eyendeyea? What kind of a place is that? Or Cheyenay? You ever heard of them?"
Staffa turned the globe on its stand, noting the demarcations. A square in the Eyendeyean Okeeeyean caught his eye. "Lift the light a little."
As the beams fell on the square that held the legend, Staffa's heart hammered. "Earth," he sounded the word out reverently. "Rotted Gods!"
"Perhaps this is just a construct? You know, a prop? Someone made it from imagination?"
Staffa studied the globe as he chewed at his lip. "No, I don't think so. Look at the continents. Look at all the names. Each one has different sounding names. Why in Rotted Hell would anyone make up a name like this one? What is that? Ahuhstrahleyeah? I think this is real, a globe of an actual planet. If it had been created-a curiositywould the Seddi have stored it with such precious documents? Would they have placed a fancy of the imagination inside a vault like this? 'Ibis is Earth. It's not a myth."
"Then where is it? Perhaps the answer lies in the files," she suggested, turning away.
Staffa wanted to growl as she took the light with her. Reluctantly, he tore his gaze away from the globe, following her to the musty drawers. A single case rested on the top of the numbered cabinets. Staffa reached for it, noting the atmosphere seal that guarded the contents.
"Odd," he mumbled. "Doesn't weigh much."
Kaylla checked the instruments hanging from her belt. "We haven't changed the internal environment much. Would you like to open it?"
"I'd like to ransack this whole room! I want to study
every document here." He looked up from the duraplast case he held in his hands. "Kaylla, don't you understand? This is the legacy of our ancestors.
These are the only clues to who we are, where we came from."
She caught his infectious excitement.
Staffa propped the case on the file cabinet and unlatched the hasp. The hinges moved stiffly, but the case opened to reveal a square of fifteen by twenty centimeters. Staffa lifted it carefully from the case, noting, to his surprise, that one side fell apart.
Taking another grip, he lifted it all the way out. The outside consisted of fabric stretched over a hard leaf while the inside consisted of sheets of paper bound on one side. "What do the words say?" Kaylla wondered.
"I don't know, the alphabet is similar to ours, but the words? I've never seen anything like them before. Why didn't they make this out of flexible ceramic, or use a data cube? Paper, for God's sake? What a poor medium to write on.,
"Indeed," Kaylla agreed.
He filled his lungs with the musty air as if to suck in the knowledge hidden here. Staffa pattered his fingertips on the file cabinets. "Why do you suppose Bruen had us come here?"
Kaylla lifted the light bar, and reached to rub dust from an inscription on the wall. It read: