Майкл Гир - Requiem for the Conqueror

"We have transmissions coming in." The Comm First bent over the monitor. "Early warning system indicates ships are inbound." Another crisp call caused her to freeze. "They're coming from out of the sun. ETA, five minutes." Rysta called, "Weapons, how long?"

"Another thirty seconds, Commander."

"Hold that. Out of the sun?" Options raced through her mind. "Rotted Gods, you don't suppose that's Ily Takka sneaking back for a last look?" She sneered at the monitor. "Comm, put it through. Let's see who this is. "

The main screen flickered, filling with a woman's features.

"Rotted Gods," Rysta whispered. "Weapons! Battle stations! All hands!"

"That won't be necessary, Rysta," Skyla Lyma's voice brought all eyes to the screen, riveting their attention. "We've got you dead to rights. You're powered up for planetary discharge. If we shoot now, every system on that ship will fry when your shielding overloads."

Rysta's eyes slitted, thoughts racing desperately, hating the truth of their situation. "What do you want?"

Skyla said coolly. "Roll ninety degrees and dump every erg you've got. Blow it into space." Her ice-blue eyes narrowed. "If you don't, Chrysla is going to blast Gyton into a mini nova. Think you're up to that?"

Rysta searched for an out. "The Lord Commander is on Targa. Back off and clear the system, Skyla, or we turn him into-"

"Then you're dead," Skyla stated uncompromisingly.

"And after Gyton, we're hitting Rega. You decide, Rysta. Do we get to pull Staffa off that planet and go home quietly? Or do we avenge ourselves on the heartland of the Regan Empire?"

Curse the Rotted Gods, Lyma and the Companions would go berserk if she blasted the planet-and long before then, Gyton would be gutted space junk. Anger

washed away with defeat. Wearily, she ordered, "Roll ninety and dump!" Suddenly, she felt very, very old.

Static faded along with the brilliant flare of light that streaked across the sky. Staffa lifted a hand to shield his eyes and shook his head. "I don't understand. Rysta? What the hell is going on?"

A coolly possessed voice came from the comm box: "Lord Commander? We heard your transmission. Please reply. If we do not hear from you immediately, we will destroy Gyton and assume all Regan forces on Targa to be hostile. "

Staffa chuckled, releasing Kaylla and lifting the mike. "Cutting it a bit close, don't you think, Wing Commander?" Her voice remained aloof and professional. "Certain pre-

cautions were necessary prior to entering the Targan system. This is hostile space, Lord Commander."

Warmth spread through Staffa. "Very good, Wing Commander. I take it you've neutralized the threat from above?"

"We have Gyton centered in the forward batteries. Two Regan Assault Transports are also in orbit. Jinx Mistress, Simva Ast, and Viktrix are closing in support. Sabot and Slap are in covering positions."

"Sounds like you brought the whole fleet."

"We considered it necessary," Skyla declared dryly. "Your record wasn't exactly impeccable on Etaria, Lord Commander."

He paused. "Yes, well, there were mitigating circumstances." He winced, knowing people were watching. "What about us?" Mac's worried voice rasped.

Staffa straightened and looked at the ring of nervous

Regan faces. "You're all safe. In fact, you might consider coming with us to the Itreatic Asteroids. We've always got a place for people with your talent and initiative-and no emperor orders Companions to leave their fellows to die in the dark. "

Glances flashed back and forth among the Regans. "Wing Commander?" Staffa turned his attention back to the mike. "We'll need evacuation for almost seven hundred people."

"Affirmative. Special Tactics Officer Ryman Ark has several squads in the assault craft. Should he expect hostilities?"

"Negative. I think it's all under control here."

"We have your transmission source pinpointed. Expect Ark in… seventeen minutes. "

"Affirmative." Staffa pursed his lips and stared up at the darkening sky. "Bruen, I'm afraid you'll have to evacuate with us." The Seddi took their turn shuffling feet and shooting nervous glances at each other.

"You'll have a safe haven in the Itreatic Asteroids." Staffa pushed his hair over his shoulder where the wind teased it. "You can't stop now. You all have work to Tursue. I'll need your help and your intelligence resources to see if we can sidetrack this war between Rega and Sassa."

Bruen-looking like a shrunken skeleton-rubbed a knobby hand over his face. "Evacuate with you to the Itreatic Asteroids? Who would have thought it? Especially after all these years, after all the plans ……

"You Rotted well can't stay here."

Kaylla paled, slipping to the ground, a sour expression on her face. "I'm not going," she gasped, shivering and clutching herself tightly. "I can't… face those men who……

Staffa bowed his head. "No, I suppose not. But where can you go? There's a Regan death warrant out for you. You've got to evacuate the planet."

Magister Bruen shook his head. "Such a mess we've all made."

Staffa wet his lips, kneeling beside Kaylla. He searched her frightened eyes. "I can't help the past. I know what I've been… who I am. But there's a safe place for you in the

Itreatic Asteroids. A place where you can be alone, pursue the work you began on Maika. There will be no men, no terrors from the past."

He swallowed. "One time on Etaria, I told you I would restore you to Maika

if I could. I… I intend to see to that promise. "

She shook her head, hot tears beginning to leave streaks down sun-browned cheeks. "I…. No. " A trembling fist went to her mouth. "No. Maika is dead for me… as are so many that I… loved. I wouldn't go back there."

"We need you," Bruen added in his cracked ancient voice. "Humanity needs you. You must take my place. I know you, Kaylla. I know the power of your mind, the way you have been tempered. The Seddi need someone of your capabilities, your strength. "

"Let me…. I must think."

Staffa straightened, feeling the fingers of the ghouls stroking at the back of his mind. He looked up, spotting the familiar contrails of assault craft in the ionosphere. He watched with approval as his lean-winged craft made a standard double-cover approach. The deadly wedges shimmered behind energy shielding as they settled around the clearing.

Staffa marched out to meet the first craft to land on the trampled valley grass before Makarta. The forward ramp dropped and Ryman Ark's trained people hit the ground at a run, their figures shimmering and indistinct behind the energy barriers. They deployed with weapons at the ready.

"Crack team," Staffa heard Mac mutter behind him. Staffa grinned as Ark trotted forward in full assault gear, his black face grim. Staffa shook his head, laughing with relief. "What? No finger ID necessary? You're slipping, Ark. '

"Been a while, Chief." Ark's lips curled into a smile as they hugged each other, pounding backs. Ark finally pushed back, a quizzical look on his face. "How in five Rotted hells did you get into this mess anyway?"

"It's a long story. How's Skyla?" he asked, a sudden lump in his throat.

Ark frowned. "I…. Rotted Gods, Lord Commander, I don't know. She was frantic getting us here. Regular tyrant.

Then, as we closed… I don't know. She tightened up. Clammed up hard as a Riparian shellfish. When I left the bridge, well, would you believe she was wringing her hands? That one?"

"All right, load up. Let's blow this rock and 1 want that tunnel over there blasted on the way out."

"Got something hidden in there?" Ark mused thoughtfully.

"An obsession. One I must come back to someday." The Mag Comm's presence tickled at his mind, beckoning.

He turned, watching hudded knots of Regan soldiers where they muttered to each other, MacRuder at the center of the largest circle, arms moving passionately.