A Matter of Honor Part 26

"Eight minutes. Then about three to land."

Corina was aware of her team, so she heard the estimate, but her main attention was still on Thark. He and his people were on their way to the Throne Room, hoping to find the Emperor there with his staff.

Others of the Crusade had been along parts of their route; they pa.s.sed bodies, all marked by blaster fire, and added others, unmarked or knife-killed, of those who tried to block their way. Thark was not proud of the number of beings who had to die. He had to remind himself sternly--and repeatedly--that their sacrifice was necessary for the birth of a new and greater Empire.

The Throne Room, when they reached it, was also empty except for a handful of Guards. Thark grabbed one of them while Valla and Kainor killed the rest.

The man was a typical human, with no trace of screen, so Thark found it simple to probe his mind. And this time he went deep, digging for everything the man knew instead of only for directions. The results were bad, very bad. Thark let the Guard's body fall and broadcast a message to the entire attack group. *No more killing. I need prisoners now, high-ranking ones. Bring any you find to the Throne Room.*

As soon as he received acknowledgements, he called Valla and Kainor to him. "We have a serious problem. The Emperor and Crown Prince have left Terra, an option we did not consider, and this one," he indicated the body, "did not know why or for what destination. All he knew was that they were picked up by a lander from the Empress Lindner day before yesterday. We must find and eliminate them, else the Crusade is doomed."

"If they are aboard a battle cruiser," Valla objected, "how can we destroy them? You know how powerful and well-armed those ships are."

Thark nodded. "True. But our ships are no smaller than Traiti warcraft, and they destroyed several such cruisers without the advantage of Talent to tell them the humans' intentions. It will not be easy, but it can be done."

"It will cost us many lives."

Thark agreed, somberly. "I know. Yet we cannot stop now. We have gone too far to fail."

Movement at the Throne Room's great door attracted his attention. It was Underofficer Jamar and another of his Sanctioners, half carrying and half dragging a bound and bleeding prisoner toward him. Thark purred briefly, pleased. The prisoner was better than he had expected, a Ranger who would surely know the Emperor's location. From the man's condition, it was as well he had ordered the killing to stop when he had, else he might have lost this valuable prisoner.

Aboard the lander, Corina heard swearing--which was interrupted by Nevan's "Launch!" command. A pressor beam sent them out the airlock and through the cruiser's wake, the lander's engines screaming as its pilot fought it through maneuvers it hadn't been designed for. Corina felt a sudden lurch of fear--could he do it?

*He's from Clan Leras and he's battleprepped,* Medart a.s.sured her.

*That part I'm not worried about--can you get anything else while we're going in?*

*If his maneuvers do not become too violent.* Corina re-established contact, to find Thark studying the youngest of the Rangers--she was the newest, but almost four standard years older than he--Ray Kennard.

Medium height and build, he was a fair-skinned redhead who might have been handsome but for his injuries. He had clearly resisted till he could fight no more, yet despite his injuries and his obvious weakness--he could barely stand--he seemed to radiate an aura of quiet competence. Thark felt grudging respect. This human wasn't like the tourists and administrators he was all too familiar with.

"How did you manage to capture him?" Thark asked the Sanctioners.

Jamar answered. "We found him in the Comm Section just as we received your message, Master. We attacked before he could get his weapon out.

He fought well, as you can see, but he could not defeat two of us."

The Sanctioner hesitated.

"Go on," Thark urged him.

"Master Thark--he is shielded! I could not read his intentions!"

"What!" Not another one, Thark denied to himself. He probed Kennard, only to find the Sanctioner was right. This man was shielded, at least as well as Menshikov had been. Could he, then, have been mistaken about the human lack of Talent?

No. He pushed that thought firmly aside, unable to accept it.

Kennard grinned at him, weak but triumphant. "I am, huh? Then Rina was right--Jim's not a fluke. You've blown it, traitor."

Corina lost contact as the lander lurched, making its firing pa.s.s over Prowler, and then made a fast landing. She was out of her seat almost as quickly as Nevan, though he beat her to the door. As soon as all were outside, she said, "Our countdown starts now. Go!"

She was badly disturbed by the bodies littering the landing pad. Even though she had watched him do it, she found it hard to believe the one who had taught her so much could be responsible for this. The Thark she had been so sure she knew would never have been capable of such slaughter!

She followed Medart's sudden movement toward the green-clad body halfway to the Palace entrance. He stopped, knelt to turn it over and close staring eyes, then he looked up at Corina. "Darlas. He never had a chance."

A taut, quiet voice interrupted. "There is a living one we can still help, sir."

Medart looked up into cold-steel eyes. "Right. Let's get to the Throne Room, then."

Hobison and Greggson had already led the rest of the a.s.sault group inside; Corina heard the Security Chief curse, then comment, "They'll be easy enough to find, Captain. Just follow the bodies."

"Yeah," Hobison agreed tonelessly. "Split up, then. You, Marshall and Eustazio secure Communications; the rest of us will search-and-silence.

Double-check that your weapons are on stun, then go."

As soon as the rest were out of the way, Medart began leading the other two through the Palace's private section. Nevan would have been better at point, but he couldn't know this part of the Palace--

"Down!"

Medart dropped automatically, heard a stun-bolt go by overhead, and saw a gray-kilted Irschchan fall two corridors ahead. "You okay, Rina?"

"I am fine." Corina had also dropped at the warning; now both Rangers stood. She turned to the Sandeman. "How did you do that?"

Nevan gave a tiny shrug. "I heard @, probably. Or saw a flash of kilt, I can't be sure. Since I knew it wasn't one of our people, I fired."

Medart managed a chuckle, despite the circ.u.mstances. "They call it combat instinct, Rina--but I'm beginning to think it's an aspect of Talent."

"An aspect that works through a shield," Corina said. "That will have to be explored later--for now, we can only use it. How much further?"

"Not much." Medart began moving again, taking a straight line until he made an abrupt turn that took them into a corridor with several widely-s.p.a.ced doors. "Our offices--this hall brings us out behind the Throne, but I have to check something. Wait a minute."

He went into one of the offices, emerged seconds later. "The security cameras are getting the whole thing--we've got plenty of evidence.

Let's finish this up."

He led them through a door at the end of the corridor. It opened behind draperies; when the three stepped through those, Corina found they were on the Throne's marble dais, two meters behind the plain, high-backed wooden chair. She moved forward, between it and one of the swirling-silver columns that flanked it.

The scene below her was sickening. Bodies scattered around were bad enough, but there was worse: Thark's calm, merciless beating of the helpless Kennard, while Valla and Kainor looked on in apparent approval. These couldn't be the gentle, affectionate people who had taught her with such patience over the last four years, now b.l.o.o.d.y and fearsome.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward to the edge of the dais and called, "Thark!"

He turned, startled, and looked up at her. "Corina!" he exclaimed.

"What--" Then he noticed the drab green kilt, totally uncharacteristic of her. Now what? he wondered. He strode to meet her as she descended from the dais, drawing his b.l.o.o.d.y soul-blade as he went.

Corina unsheathed her own blade, the movement attracting Thark's attention to the bit of metal at her belt. A human would have paled in deep shock; Thark's only visible reaction was an agitated twitch of his ears.

"You? A Ranger?" It was too much for him to accept. First humans with shields--blades, with Talent!--and now Losinj a Ranger? "No!"

"It is true, Thark. I am placing you under arrest for treason against the Empire."

Thark started to answer, was interrupted by gunfire. The Sanctioner holding Kennard had let the human fall to go for his blaster; Nevan dropped him, Valla, and three others while Medart shot Kainor and the remaining Sanctioner. His demoralization was completed when the Sandeman said, "Good shooting, Ranger Medart. Do you want that last one, or may I take him?"

"Neither," Medart replied. "He's hers--give me a hand with Kennard."

"Yes, sir." Nevan holstered his blaster, and the two men went to kneel by the fallen Ranger.