Veriasse got Everynne on her bike, and one man walked forward. Gallen could not mistake his stride. He carried himself with dignity and a calm assurance. He had been in charge of this operation.
He was an older man, with long dark hair and eyes as black as obsidian. He wore a small goatee. “Well done, Veriasse,” the stranger said. “We meet again.”
Veriasse nodded at the man. “Jagget.”
“Yes, Commander Jagget, of the planetary defense forces. To tell you the truth, Veriasse, I was not sure I would be able to take your Terror away, but I had to try. No offense, I hope.”
“Of course not. But I am curious-why do you call yourself planetary defense forces when this is a dronon world?”
“I work under their direction now,” Jagget said, “The dronon appreciate competence, even if it does come from the hand of an old enemy. I was able to convince them that we could handle this situation better than their green-skinned oafs. The element of surprise, you know.”
“I find your wavering loyalty unsettling,” Veriasse said. “In fact, I cannot believe it. Primary Jagget would never give his loyalty to an alien usurper. I would expect more from even one of his mad clones.”
Jagget shrugged. “Believe as you will. I caught your act on Fale, Veriasse. The incident is being broadcast all over the galaxy.” He looked at the Terror, licked his lips, glanced at his men, as if trying to make a decision.
Then he gazed deep into Gallen’s eyes. “Young man, if you really are linked via ansible to Terrors on eighty-four dronon worlds, detonate them now, this very second. And if you feel you must, destroy this world, too!”
Jagget stepped forward threateningly, walked several paces toward Gallen. Jagget’s eyes went wide, and Gallen could tell that he planned to die. He was trying to force Gallen’s hand. He wanted to start the war.
“Stay back!” Veriasse shouted, pulling out his incendiary rifle.
Jagget raised his hand in a commanding gesture. Three men among the crowd shouldered their own weapons. Jagget clones.
“Young man,” Jagget said, walking up to Gallen, looking deeply into his eyes, “ignite it, now! Other worlds have burned themselves down in order to keep from falling to the Dronon Empire. It is a worthy trade. Release the Terrors, and someday this sector of the galaxy will remember your name in honor!”
Gallen held the Terror aloft, looked out over the warriors. These were humans whose genes had not been twisted by the dronon. They could not have been subjugated long enough even to feel any loyalty to their conquerors, yet for the most part, they had sided with the dronon. They would have captured Everynne if they could, would have turned her in. As it was, she was unconscious, and Gallen could not tell how badly hurt she might be. And they had killed Orick.
Even now, only their fear of Gallen held the locals at bay. Except for Jagget. Jagget alone seemed to be a true patriot, and he was begging for Gallen to end it all. Set this world afire rather than leave it in the hands of the Dronon Empire. Perhaps he knew the hearts of his people too well.
In that one moment, Gallen would have freed the nanotech warriors within the Terror, if he had had the ability. Jagget walked up to him, grabbed Gallen’s wrist, shook it so that the Terror fell to the ground. He stared into Gallen’s eyes.
“You can’t do it, can you?” Jagget whispered fiercely, as if Gallen had just betrayed all of his hopes. “You’ve got only one Terror, and you’re trying to get it to Dronon-just as Maggie said.”
Jagget spun, spoke to his soldiers. “I’ll be escorting these people to their destination.”
“Sir,” one young woman objected, “shouldn’t we report their capture to Lord Kintal?”
“You may report it to the dronon bastards if you wish,” Jagget said calmly with just the slightest hint of a threat. “But of course, our orders to stop these people were based upon the false assumption that they had many Terrors in their possession. Since that report is obviously spurious, we have no reason to detain them.”
The woman looked at him warily, took a step back. “I’ll report that everything was quiet on my shift,” she said. “May I take a car thereafter, along with my personal leave?”
“Yes,” Jagget said. “I think that would be wise.”
“You mentioned Maggie,” Veriasse said to Jagget. “Where is she?” Veriasse had Everynne on the bike, his arms cradled around her. Everynne’s eyelids fluttered. She tried to raise her head, struggled to regain consciousness, then fell back.
“She will join us shortly.” Jagget unclipped a small commlink from his belt, spoke swiftly in some personal battle code.
“We’ll need a room for a few minutes,” Veriasse said. “And some hot food.”
“Very well,” Jagget agreed.
Veriasse lifted Everynne, carried her to the back of the compound, down to a small apartment. There he laid her on a bed, lightly tapping her cheek as she struggled to awaken. A dozen soldiers followed them into the apartment. Veriasse turned on them, shouted for them to leave.
Only Gallen, Veriasse, and Jagget stayed to nurse Everynne. Veriasse removed her robe, turned her on her back. She had two burn marks from the stunners, a light one on her lower back, a severe wound on her neck.
Veriasse caught his breath, pointed to the neck wound. “This one may leave a scar.” Jagget went to a sink, returned with some water and began spooning it over Everynne’s back. Meanwhile Veriasse took out his sword, nicked his wrist and let the blood flow over her wounds.
“What are you doing?” Gallen asked.
“The nanodocs in my blood will help heal the skin,” Veriasse said. “Unfortunately, the burn has seared the blood vessels at the subdermal level. The nanodocs in her own system will not be able to combat the wound very effectively. I am hoping to prevent a scar.”
Gallen sat, and together they watched the wound. Over the next fifteen minutes, much of the burned and blackened skin dissolved; the swollen red welts reduced in size. Everynne finally woke during that time and whimpered at the pain. Veriasse bid her to be still.
At the end of the fifteen minutes, fresh new skin began to grow over the wounds, but there was a distinct red mark on the back of Everynne’s neck, shaped like an I.
Veriasse put his head in his hands, sat still for a long time. “I fear,” he said heavily, “that all my years of preparation have been jeopardized. Now that the nanodocs have finished knitting the tissues together, we can do nothing to speed the healing process. The blemish should clear in a few days but … We must delay our trip. Everynne’s blemish makes her ineligible to challenge the Lords of the Swarm.”
“How long of a delay do you need?” Jagget said.
Veriasse shook his head. “A few days.”
“Veriasse,” Jagget said, “the dronon have been sending in troops all week. They know you’re here. I could try to hide you, but I don’t think I could hold them off that long. At this very moment, the vanquishers have this entire area surrounded. The sooner you leave here, the better your chances of making a clean escape.”
“It’s only a small mark,” Gallen said. “Her clothing might hide it.”
“The dronon wear no clothes,” Veriasse said. “They will have the right to inspect her without clothing.”
“Cosmetics,” Jagget said. “Body paint?”
Veriasse looked up, skeptical. “If the dronon discover our deception, they will kill her outright.”
“It’s worth a try,” Jagget said. “You can’t wait for her to heal. The dronon have already built one gate key. They can build another. In a week’s time perhaps, none of the worlds will be closed to them.”
Gallen studied the two men, feeling trapped. Their inability to make a choice galled him. He wished the scar was permanent. Everynne had never wanted to come on this trip. She had been chosen as a sacrifice, and only her generosity let her continue the journey. The only way she could hope to win this battle was to walk away. At least, then, she could live her own life. A scar on her neck would have been a ticket to freedom.