“They’ve been here already.”
“Who’s been here?” Javas demanded.
Brendan stared at the Emperor, his voice deadly serious. “Your son, and his… people. They’ve completely ransacked my home. I tried to find some additional weapons but they were very thorough about it. My comm screen, most of my medical gear, everything. My horse—” His face twisted in a mixture of rage and sorrow, and he checked the load on the shotgun and gripped it so tightly in his hands that his knuckles went white. He started fidgeting nervously, the pitch of his voice rising as he continued. “The bastards didn’t even kill him cleanly. They cut his throat and let him bleed to death in his stall.” He scanned the area again, his breath coming in quick gasps. “I—I can’t, won’t, let it happen again! We’ve got to get you out of here, find a comm station.”
Cut its throat? Eric remarked inwardly. The guards on the shuttle had their throats—
“What are you getting at?” his father demanded. “You can’t let what happen again?”
He didn’t answer, but continued looking almost frantically around at their surroundings for any sign of movement. Eric watched Brendan for several moments and studied the look of fear in his eyes, trying to identify something there that was more than simply being afraid for one’s life. I’ve seen that look before, he suddenly realized. Glenney’s face had had the same fearful expression when they were caught in the shielding before the shuttle had crashed. His father’s eyes had flashed the same terrible visage, if only momentarily, back on Luna when it seemed that an attempt was being made on their lives. Not a fear of death itself or even of impending disaster, but a fear of being totally helpless to prevent something from happening. For Glenney, it was the knowledge that he was failing in his only duty, that of protecting him and the Emperor. His father must have felt the same way about him when the threat first appeared. But in Brendan’s case—
“Let what happen again?” his father repeated, grasping him by the sleeve. He jerked Brendan around angrily, nearly unbalancing him, forcing him to look directly into his face. “Answer me!”
The sudden confrontation with his father seemed to snap Brendan out of his building panic. His eyes lost some of their wildness and he made himself calm down, swallowing audibly in an attempt to slow his breathing. He relaxed his grip on the shotgun and reached an unsteady hand into one of his pockets, then extended his outstretched palm. “Sire, does this look familiar?” he asked. There was more than a hint of shame in his voice.
All traces of anger, and a good deal of the color, drained instantly from his father’s face when he saw the object—a simple gold bracelet—in Brendan’s hand. The Emperor picked it up carefully, as if it were red-hot, and examined it wordlessly, a troubled frown spreading across his lips. As he turned it over in his hand, the shiny metal reflected the occasional ray of direct sunshine that managed to sift down through the trees. Part of its gleaming surface was obscured with a good deal of dried blood, but on one side Eric could just make out what appeared to be a delicately ornate engraving of a majestic bird, rising from flames.
Chapter Sixteen
“My God,” Eric said, almost under his breath, “is that what I think it is? Father, Glenney’s security reports—they contained a description of this bracelet, connecting it to the group responsible for my grandfather’s death. Surely they’ve not reorganized to fight the Sun project?”
Javas’ lips drew into a tight line as he stared at the object. “Where did this come from?” he asked quietly, his eyes not moving from the bracelet in his hand.
By this point, Brendan had regained most of his self-control. He continued to warily survey their surroundings, and it was clear to Eric that his concerns dealt not only with those who had apparently been here but also with finding a clear means of escape. “Sire, I found it on my dining table, a spot of dried blood beneath it. He placed it on my table himself, his hands still dripping, after killing my horse.”
“Who did?” the Emperor demanded. His father could contain himself no more, and gripped the bracelet so tightly that Eric thought he saw it beginning to flatten in his hand.
Brendan lowered his head, his words a whisper. “His name is Johnson, Sire. He was, is, the leader of those on Earth who would end your father’s dream to save the Sun. He has no other goal in life but to stop this project. The man is absolutely brutal, bloodthirsty in every way, and thinks nothing of sacrificing others to achieve his ends.”
The Emperor turned away, his eyes reaching skyward. Eric had never seen his father so torn with emotion. He shook his head slowly, speaking under his breath. “All those in the landing bay. Mila. Glenney. How many others?”
There was an uncomfortable pause before Brendan added, “Your father.”
The Emperor lowered his head slowly and faced the two of them. Something passed then between Brendan and his father: a look, a nod, the tiniest raising of an eyebrow. His father sighed heavily, wearily. “And this man is allied with my—with Reid Valtane?”
“It would be more accurate to say that Reid Valtane is a product of this man.”
They had remained still, talking quietly long enough that the natural sounds of the backwoods had returned around them as they spoke. But a sudden flurry of birds through the treetops caught their attention just seconds before they heard the horses approaching over the ridge on the northern side of the house.
There were three of them, and they rode swiftly, noisily, down the ridge in their direction with weapons waving above their heads. They were still at the crest of the heavily wooded ridge, and since they were riding through the thickest part of the backwoods undergrowth it would be several moments before they reached the clearing; but even at this distance Eric could hear them laughing, already enjoying the chase.
“Come on! This way!” Brendan was immediately on his feet, already moving to the south, down the gradual incline leading to the main trail. His father pocketed the bracelet and turned to follow, calling to Eric to do the same.
“I’m right behind you,” he yelled. He jammed the pin laser through the ever-present layer of dead leaves and flicked it on, then tamped it the rest of the way into the moist dirt underneath, hoping silently that one of their pursuers was directly above it when it overloaded.
The three of them ran as fast as they could through the underbrush, trying to reach the main trail. While the horses could easily outrun them on the trail, they were better able to negotiate the underbrush and downed branches and seemed to be making some headway. Since Brendan was leading them through the underbrush, Eric assumed that the path he’d seen earlier must not have been as direct a way to get to the trail as the way they were going. Still, if the horsemen took the path, the surer footing for their animals might lead them there before them, even if it was a slightly longer way to go. He slowed as he ran, looking over his shoulder, and saw the trio was following them in nearly a straight line. Good, he thought, crossing his fingers, right over the laser. Now, if only the timing is right.