Майкл Гир - Requiem for the Conqueror

Every time she saw him, he became someone different. Rysta shivered, feeling

a chill play along her spine. A barely throttled pain gleamed in his eyes. His glance fell on her, bringing a tightness to her chest — the feeling of a stiletto poised over her heart.

"We are clear Commander." There was a note of finality in his curious voice.

"I want you to know, First, that I dislike hitting our people as much as you do. The orders came straight from Tybalt."

The corners of his mouth quivered as his back arched slightly. Tension rippled across the busy bridge, tangible, menacing.

He replied in a barely audible whisper that reminded her of a threat. "I know."

Rysta didn't remember putting her hand on the worn service blaster at her belt. She did it instinctively, and the smooth butt of the weapo comforted her. Once before, in the eyes of an Etarian sand leopard, she'd seen that same look.

His awkward, high-pitched voice startled her as he added, "You have your orders. Go ahead. Condemn my people. Kill them." He swallowed, mouth twitching, before he turned and walked stify from the bridge.

Someone muttered behind her.

Rysta took a deep breath and blew it out. "Power up. Targeting is locked on. Let's melt that rock and be on our way."

The Weapons First called, "Main bombardment batteries are powering up."

"Commander?" The Comm First called, "We've got people on the surface down there. They blew out a section of ountain."

"Weapons First, you may fire when ready," Rysta ordered.

"And if I get comm from the surface?" The Comm First

asked.

Rysta hesitated, looked back at the hatch Fist had just

left through, and said, "Ignore it. Damn it, we've got our:t

orders. Just kill them all."

"Powered up!" Weapons First noted. "Batteries locked."j

Rysta's breath hissed through her worn teeth. "Farewell,(

Lord Commander."

Muscles pumping, Staff a struggled up the long slanting tunnel. He could sense MacRuder's strength sagging under the heavy battle comm they labored to carry to the surface. Distant light beckoned escape at the end of the square adit. Mac tripped and staggered, almost dropping the load.

"Hold it a minute." Staffa settled the heavy piece of machinery to the cut stone as MacRuder slumped. The Regan hung his head, gasping pants torn from a strained throat.

"Outta steam," MacRuder wheezed. "Sorry, didn't know I—"

"Go on," Staffa added gently. "I can carry it from here."

"But that's. " MacRuder clamped his mouth shut as Staffa heaved, lifting the burden, arms barely spanning to either handle.

"Go," Staffa grunted, pushing forward.

MacRuder nodded, plodding ahead, keeping out of the way.

Daylight stabbed blindingly even though the sun lay on the purple mountain rim of the western horizon. The crystal air soothed, a balm of freshness that carried no stink of death and combat, no metallic odor of blood or acrid sharpness of punctured intestines.

Staffa fought for breath as he stumbled out of the shaft and settled the heavy equipment onto a mat of flowers, bruising the soft carpet of greenery.

Practiced fingers flipped on switches, checking power, and folding out the antenna. He clutched the mike, adjusting the dish to send over 360.°

"Rysta!" he called, eyes searching the heavens. "For God's sake, don't fire! This is the Lord Commander! We've got most of your Division here. We're outside. You hear?

Don't fire!" His jaw muscles rippled as he waited for a response.

Silence. "Rysta! Damn you, you can have me! You hear? I know what Tybalt's orders are! By the Blessed Gods, what's the purpose of all these people dying for me?" His heart stuttered in his chest.

"Listen, Rysta, why kill the better part of an entire Division? It's not worth it! I give you my word, I surrender! No tricks! Spare these people!"

Frantically, he looked around, seeing the thick knot around him-mostly armored Regans. They watched him, hope shining on every face. Some held hands; some hugged each other. Others stood somberly, heads down, awaiting the inevitable. Here and there, people sat, fingers laced into plants and soil. Others, wounded, lay gasping, some beyond caring.

"Rysta? Gods Rot you, answer me!"

Across from him MacRuder panted, worry bright in his blue eyes. Kaylla chewed her lip, brow furrowed. Bruen held his face in his hands.

"Rysta!" Staffa bellowed into the comm. "Answer!" MacRuder bent over the transmitter, studying the readouts. "It's sending. No doubt of that."

Bruen pulled his head up; his hip hurt him, his bruised head was livid in the white sunlight. "I, too, will surrender. This was all my doing."

"Rysta?" Staffa continued. "The Seddi leader, Magister Bruen, will surrender. Just don't kill your own people!" The muscles in his chest and shoulders bunched as he slammed a palm into the comm. "Damn it, you don't shoot after a surrender! Section fifty-four, paragraph eight of the Regan Military Field Manual orders you to cease fire!"

He searched the skies, wondering.

"Nothing," MacRuder said softly. "Nothing is coming in. Not from above anyway."

"Rysta?" Staffa gritted. "If you want begging, all right, I'm begging! Whatever you want, you get." He closed his eyes, feeling his face go hot. That it should come to this, the Lord Commander begging.

He thrust the mike at MacRuder. "You try. They're your people."

As MacRuder's quavering voice beseeched the skies, Staffa walked off several steps and shook his head, waiting for that brief moment when the world turned upside down into oblivion.

He felt a hand touch the hardened armor of his shoulder. "You tried, Lord Commander," Kaylla told him.

He snorted sourly. "Looks like this time Tuff didn't come through, doesn't

it?"

"You've been seeking atonement. Maybe you've made more progress than you.know. Perhaps you have achieved your grace."

He met her knowing gaze and smiled wistfully. "You know what I did. Perhaps if I had managed to break the Forbidden Borders, left humanity in better condition than I found it. "

For the first time she looked awkward, deprived of her everpresent poise. "God will know. Only when that consciousness is finally shared, can you judge."

MacRuder ceased transmitting, looking up numbly, eyes stricken. "Sink, you can't do this to us. Sink, we're here. You can't let us down… just run off and leave us without trying.

Staffa moved to reach out with a reassuring hand. "He didn't. He made every effort. It was Tybalt's order-not Fist's. As much as I would like to blame it on him, the fault lies with the Empire… and the Seddi."

Mac closed his eyes, swallowing hard.

"Damn it!" someone growled. "Why are they taking so long? If they want to kill us, Rotted Gods, get it over with!" "Maybe they're talking it over," Bruen mumbled, settling himself by the comm, shifting his weight.

Staffa picked up the mike again. "They might be charging the system. Takes a while before a full power discharge." "Great," Kaylla muttered hopelessly.

"Here it comes!" MacRuder cried as a glaring light filled the sky.

Staffa averted'his eyes from the flash and reached an arm around Kaylla, pulling her close. She buried her head against his shoulder.

I am at peace with myself. I did my best. He hugged her tighter as the comm began to crackle.

"Commander?" The Comm First's careful voice cut the silence. "I have the Lord Commander on comm."

Rysta shifted in the command chair. "I don't want to hear it. Cut him off. We've got our orders. Staffa's threats are meaningless now."

:'Yes, ma'am. Channel clear."

'Uh, ma'am?" the Comm First continued hesitantly. "What now?" Rysta's voice echoed across the bridge as the hum of power surged through the ship. She turned to throw her meanest glare.