Майкл Гир - Requiem for the Conqueror

"Looks like quite a haul," Ark muttered, indicating the Regans.

"They bought their freedom already." Staffa lifted a shoulder. "Some may be coming with us."

"Good fighters, huh?" Ark had his hands propped on his hips.

"Damn good. Maybe the makings of our equals," Staffa brooded. "I'd rather have them with us than against us. A lot has changed in ree Space." He paused. "I have a mind to blast Rysta's ship to plasma."

"Why? Rysta can't hold a candle to us," Ark scoffed, kicking at the black dirt.

"I'm not worried about Rysta, but I am about a Regan First who's aboard Gyton. His name is Sinklar Fist." A cold foreboding clutched at Staffa. "And I've got a terrible feeling we're going to be staring at him over blasters one of these days soon."

Staffa greeted the members of his crew who monitored the lock as he stepped out of the hatch of Ryman's assault ship after it settled gently into its hull dock.

"Welcome aboard, sir," one of the techs greeted.

"Good to be home." Staffa stopped for a moment, placing his hand against Chrysla's sturdy bulkheads.

"Lord Commander?" Skyla's voice called down from the speaker. "Could I see you as soon as possible?"

Staffa glanced up at the pickup. "What's the situation with Rysta's fleet?"

"Tap has them in his sights. At the first sign of trouble, he's got orders to blow Gyton into junk. Same with the rest of her ships. I suggest we conclude whatever business is necessary and space at the first opportunity. We could

be sitting ducks if Rysta gets a message off to Tybalt."

"Good work Wing Commander. Meet me in my quarters as soon as possible." He thumped a gloved fist against the hull and added, "I'll be there as soon as I check on something."

"Affirmative. Stay out of trouble."

Staffa chuckled, anticipation of seeing Skyla rising in his breast. But first… He took a right down a lighted corridor and entered the main bay. Across the large compartment, MacRuder stood with the last of the Targan troops awaiting transshipment to the Regan transports. Behind them, the status light on the large oblong shuttle lock indicated that it was pressurizing. Armed Companions stood around the periphery, alert for trouble.

As Staffa approached, Mac grinned and stepped away from his troops. Mac stopped uncomfortably, blue eyes meeting Staffa's levelly.

"You're ready to go?"

Mac nodded. "Yes. I guess it just had to be this way. I hoped I'd see you, get to thank you again. I'll never forget what you did down there. Pleading like that for our lives when we would have killed you outright. You're not the monster I grew up believing in. You and Sink. you're a lot alike. Damn it, why do you have be on opposite sides?"

Staffa smiled grimly. "The time has come for a new way of thinking. You didn't deserve to die like that." He hesitated. "Are you sure you won't come with us? I liked the way you handled yourself down there in the darkness. Men and women of your caliber deserve more than Rega will give you."

MacRuder frowned and stuck thumbs in his equipment belt. "I can't be part of the Seddi. I saw what they did on Targa." He lifted a hand to stifle Staffa's protest. "Bruen and I had a long talk on the way up, and I know why he did what he did. But knowing intellectually and having lived through it are two different things. I can't forgive him for

the suffering. I can't forget Gretta's body in that cell-all the men and women who died on that ball of rock. " He shook his head. "It wasn't worth it."

"I'm not asking you to be Seddi. I'm asking you to join the Companions, to help me stop the coming war, and maybe to help all humanity find a dream. We've made ourselves the enemy, when in reality it's the Forbidden Borders. Help me break them. Come with me."

MacRuder pursed his lips as he met Staffa's questioning gaze. "I'd like that, Lord Commander, and I sincerely appreciate your offer, but I owe Sinklar. I guess it all goes back to a Kaspan rooftop in the rain. He kept us alive. He kept me alive time after time down there. He tried to get us out. The only reason he left Makarta was because the Emperor ordered it." He looked pained. "If I turn my back now, all those people who died in Makarta trying to save us died for nothing. I can't have that on my conscience."

Staffa nodded his understanding. "You're a good man, MacRuder. You know, the chances are excellent we will meet again… in less friendly circumstances."

MacRuder nodded, a deep sadness reflected in his blue eyes. "I know. Perhaps it's up to these Seddi quanta." "Remember, Mac. You always have a place with us. If

you ever need to get in touch with me, use the code 'Makarta. ' "

A light flashed on the shuttle loading lock and the heavy door rolled back with a hollow metallic boom. MacRuder waved the last of his people into the lock, then offered his hand, shaking Staffa's firmly. "I guess that's my ride." "Take care, Mac."

"You, too. And stay out of dark places, Lord Commander." MacRuder turned and walked through the cold gray lock to the shuttle.

"None of them stayed. They all went," Staffa mused to himself. "Who is this Sinklar Fist?" He turned and walked down the familiar decks. Chrysla welcomed him like an old friend.

Skyla waited for him. What would he say? How could he tell her how much he'd come to love her?

The door closed behind Tybalt as he stepped into his private quarters. Arta Fera stood in the center of the opulent room, her auburn hair glinting in the light like honeyed gold. She turned, eyes glowing amber, appraising him, a startlingly seductive figure against the blue background of the room. Velvet

hangings drooped over a padded sleeping platform. Gold inlay gleamed in the sandwood furnishings. The collar sparkled against the smooth tones of her throat. She wore a floor-length blue gossamer gown, gathered under her breasts. The outline of her sensual body was a barely hidden secret.

"You know what I am," she told him levelly, fists clenching at her sides as she braced her feet defiantly.

"Indeed I do," he answered as he stepped over to the console and poured two crystal goblets full of Ashtan sherry. He turned to face her, offering a glass. Her head went up disdainfully.

Tybalt lifted his right arm, exposing a black bracelet. "You know what this is?"

She shook her head, tumbles of red brown hair waving with the motion.

"It controls the collar on your neck." Tybalt glanced down at it and a frown lined his forehead. "Quite a sophisticated device actually. The Companions make them. Very expensive. Each individually tunes to the thought patterns of the wearer. With this, I need only think-" he paused, smiling-"like this."

Arta Fera's mouth came open as she crumpled to the padded fabrics covering the floor.

Tybalt walked around her, bending down to stare into her frightened eyes. "You see, my dear Seddi assassin, no matter what your training, I control you. I know about the sexual trigger in your mind. The idea fascinates me. You must kill the man who possesses you, but possess you I shall, Arta. And when you strike-as you must-I'll take you out just that quick."

As he straightened and mentally released the control, she lunged at him. He triggered the collar again and watched her wilt.

"First, you will drink with me and we will talk like civilized human beings."

He released the collar and she began to move again, gasp-

ing for breath as her eyes cleared. She sat up slowly, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, head bowed in a mass of silky hair.

"I hate you, you know," she whispered.

"Of course you do. Makes it all the more amusing for me. Stand up. " He waited for a moment. "Do you want me to use the collar again? I can, you know. For as long as it takes to convince… or kill you. "

She got to her feet, amber eyes blazing in her perfect face. Jaw muscles rolled under smooth skin as she took the sherry.