Pala's anger echoed his words, leaving a bad taste in her mouth. Not only had the Miners' Union tried to kill her and her men, but they'd done it for nothing more than money. She cut the connection and handed Trgyl the note, pointing in the direction Quade and his unit were burning. “Go to him there.” The visor sang her instructions.
As Trgyl lifted to the sky, Physe hailed Pala, walking from across the base. His face was grim, purposeful and tight with exhaustion. His voice was burred. “It was Riyst who programmed that sphere. He must have had help; there were very few times he would have been alone long enough to reprocess all thirty-two MR-405s during the journey.”
“I can bet who helped.”
“Stastny would be my guess.”
Pala’s thoughts snaked to Cabot. He hated to be left out of anything. “Cabot, too.” She looked sharply at Physe. “You ready for some nap time yet?”
He looked over at the camp. “Yeah. Kinda spooky though. You wonder if, when you fall asleep, you’re gonna wake up again.”
CHAPTER
32
Just before taking orbit around Colossus and deploying the rangers, Interplanetary Peace Coalition Marshal Devlin Riyst checked the numbers calibrated into the MR-405 gunnery sphere in front of him. Nothing was out of place. Every chip that was supposed to be left untouched was listed. That canteen he’d given Cabot for Pala was listed as primary target. Not that he’d told Cabot that. If he had, he was sure Cabot wouldn’t have been able to keep his girlfriend occupied like he was at the moment. The guy just wasn’t geared to keep certain secrets.
Riyst reached behind him, picked up the casing and placed it in position over the portal of the sphere. The magnetic cement grabbed hold of the plate and pulled it in tight against the curve. Beside him, Stastny was just finishing with another.
Within two hours, eight StarGazers would lift out of their bays, each taking four of these MR-405s with them to the giant planet below: RK-197d, Colossus. Forty-eight hours from now, these eight groups of gunnery spheres would wake up and begin their programmed mission of killing. He would be sure to be gone from here. He would leave The Sultesque floating around the planet as dead weight. Meanwhile, he would be on Idyah, trying to coerce a certain Idyan empath to join his team.
Working with Stastny had taught him one valuable lesson: It was important to have plausible deniability.
CHAPTER
33
Pala was dying. It crept through every aching smooth-edged joint and every burning capillary of her body. Her breath bubbled deep in her lungs. Joining Suez and her team, she returned to the fungus field and began burning it. There wasn’t any more warring against the virus that she could do; it was up to the scientists now. Quade also had plenty to do; dealing with Khamasa wouldn’t be easy. And with the relay power of Riyst's ship, Sultesque, gone, Quade would have to figure out how to send a quarantine warning to Earth.
Throughout the rest of the night, the virus fever boiled within her. More and more, she kept away from her men. They were all infected, but like Denten, she didn’t want to be forced to stop. It would accomplish nothing.
Calls came over her visor, telling of men who’d fallen in spasms and were being sent back to base camp. The hospital tents were full again and patients were being set up in the open. When her breathing stifled in her visor, she took it off and flung it aside. She wouldn’t need it anymore.
It was close to dawn when her first muscle tremor hit. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make her sit down to rest her shaking leg. When the tremor stopped, she tried to stand, but her leg folded and she fell to the ground, both legs now kicking involuntarily. Immediately, rangers were there, helping her to a sitting position. Somewhere she heard Trgyl’s chirrup and prattle. Quade’s hulking figure appeared and leaned over her, scooping her into the cradle of his arms.
The scent of his sweat filled her nostrils and his voice rumbled through his chest. “Why do you have a visor, if you don’t have it on? Makel’s got an anti-toxin he’s testing. Says he wants the worst patients first. That’s you.”
Pala leaned her head against his chest, gritting her teeth while her legs continued to jerk and wrench until it felt like her bones would snap in two. A moan escaped through her clenched jaw, and Quade tightened his grip on her. “I knew you looked too tired, but I thought it might be because of Denten. When Trgyl flew in with the message, I knew you were sick. Hang on, Pala.”
He settled her into the shuttle and sped back to base camp at a dizzying speed, the whistle of Trgyl’s wings close beside. It was too fast for Pala to adjust her vision. She shut her eyes and concentrated on the rasping sound of her breathing. At times it seemed abnormally loud to her. At other times, it almost faded into silence. By the time they reached camp, her breathing was continuously shallow and painful. The convulsions kept up their torment. Her chest felt as if someone had tied a rope around it and kept pulling it tighter. Quade flew the drifter right in to the hospital area.
Makel was supervising injections. He picked up a power syringe and hobbled to the shuttle. Peering in at her, he said, “I hope this anti-toxin works for you, as bad as you are. It seems to be helping the others, but time will tell.” He placed the nozzle of the syringe against her jugular vein in her neck and smirked. The dark bags beneath his eyes made him look more menacing as he spoke. “Believe me when I say that it pleases me knowing how much this will hurt.”
He pulled the trigger.
Fire jolted into Pala’s neck and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. It licked up and down her spine, forcing tears from her eyes. The flames exploded into her brain and swallowed everything. It infused her, filling her, until she became pain itself: gasping, writhing, suffering and humbling. It stretched from eternity to eternity, no beginning and no end.
Visions of Cabot, Quade and Denten entered her mind and melded together into one, disintegrating away. The background developed into hues of green and brown and she found herself walking in the jungle. Dark shadows darted out at her: Makel, Stastny, Khamasa, Riyst. The images mixed, making no sense until a year-old memory lanced through, crystal clear.
Pala had been standing in the auditorium with a group of two hundred twenty other cadet inductees. The walls were draped with banners of different branches of the Interplanetary Peace Coalition. In the front upper left corner hung the Rangers’ flag. It was a simpler design than the others: blue background with the red diamond and the gold trefoil. Its simplicity made the emblem crisper to the eye, more respected, and more feared.
Somewhere behind the viewing glass was her father: Brigadier General Harcourt de la Croix, the greatest IPC General that had ever lived. She knew they were both feeling the same thing: it was as if her whole sixteen years of life, and his since she’d been born, had been for the express purpose of this one fine moment.
Quade stood to her right. The Chief Justice of the IPC marshaled into the room, flanked by dignitaries from the many representing planets. As one, every member raised their right hands. The words of the oath came out, the sound reverberating from the walls in a thunderous echo. Pala’s face heated with excitement. This was it. She added her voice to the others:
“I, Pala de la Croix, having been appointed to the Interplanetary Peace Coalition in the grade of Cadet Ranger, do solemnly vow that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservations or purpose of evasion; that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office upon which I am about to enter; and that I will support and defend the Constitutions of all the Coalition planets against all enemies, foreign or domestic.”
Quade’s voice broke through the memory. It jerked her back to the tent and Colossus. He was speaking to someone.
“—by now.”
The other voice answered, too soft and low for Pala to hear. Quade’s rough hands took hold of hers, his thumb stroking the back of her knuckles.
Her eyelids were heavy, and didn’t want to move, but at long last, daylight fluttered through her lashes. Th
ose tiny glimpses showed her that the world around her was the color of a new tent. Quade sat beside her, silent and guarding her from death, his thumb still stroking her knuckles. She squeezed his hand.
His thumb stopped moving.
She tried to speak. Forcing the words out seemed to take a lot of effort. “Quade.” She barely heard it.
“Pala.” His voice was gravely and thin. He shifted, jostling her harshly. “Makel!”
Immediately another shadow fell across her and Makel's face barely came into focus. “Pala, can you hear me?”
“Yes.” That seemed easier. Quade squeezed her hand and held it that way. It was a little tight, but bearable. She felt him lift it, and then something soft and warm pressed against her fingers. A kiss. She pushed her eyes further open, her heavy lashes fighting to close again. She saw Makel’s sharp twisted face. The words he’d said as he injected her sprang back into her mind. She’d just bet he enjoyed every second of her pain.
Makel continued to stand over her. “The antitoxin didn’t work with the first dose. I had to reformulate it. You almost died. You can say thank you later.”
Trgyl’s gray head peered around Quade. He let out a bright chirrup and immediately flushed his dark charcoal. A mechanical visor voice emitted from a box hung around his neck. “You are awake!”
Quade glanced at him. “While you were out, Physe and Trgyl worked on the translation program. It’s going to take time to finish compiling his full vocabulary. And, of course, some of it won’t translate because it’s visual, like his color changes. But you should hear this guy. He’s been fussing over you, making us all crazy.”
Trgyl settled into a squat beside the tent flap and Quade gently said to Pala, “You scared me, too. You were in a coma for eleven days.”
Eleven days? How was that possible? She closed her eyes. She could still hear the memory of those voices at her induction ceremony. I will support and defend the Constitutions of all the Coalition planets against all enemies, foreign or domestic.
Quade continued. “The burn’s long done. We’re just waiting for everyone to get healthy again.” His voice sobered. “We lost quite a few men over this. Almost one-fourth of those that survived the initial attack.”
One-fourth. Her heart churned. So many.
Makel spoke up. “But, once we readdressed the antitoxin, we had great results defeating the virus. Everyone has been inoculated and we’ve aerial sprayed the affected areas of the planet. Only active cases have been a problem. You’re the slowest to recover. Of course, you were the most dead. A few more days and you’d have awakened in the ship.”
Pala’s eyes snapped open and she stared at Quade. In the ship? Khamasa must have betrayed them after all. She's the only one who could overrule Quade. Trgyl looked apprehensively from one to the other with a low moan.
Makel laughed. “That’s right, Pala. You and that paranoid freak, Denten, lose. We're going home.” He turned and left, whistling a happy tune as he went. Trgyl watched him go, but made no move to follow.
Quade nodded, his face grim. “Riyst is waiting to rendezvous in orbit.”
Riyst. Interesting that he should suddenly appear again. A pre-arranged time schedule? “Tell me what happened.”
“Khamasa returned to base, taking joint command as instructed. I spoke to her about what you’d said, and she seemed to agree. She went and talked to Makel for awhile. When she came back, she released Stastny and Harlen. She won’t speak with me privately.”
She could just see how it would have gone. Khamasa had at last shown her colors. Through the opening in her tent, Pala saw Physe speaking to someone through the opening of the kitchen tent. He left and Trgyl shuffle-hopped from Pala’s tent at an angle to follow him. Then Khamasa and Stastny exited the kitchen tent and walked in her direction. Whatever this was, it couldn’t be good. Watching them and without turning, she asked Quade, “Which one canceled the quarantine?”
“I don’t think anyone has. As near as I can figure, this is a prearranged schedule.”
“It’s not the schedule that was given to us.”
“We were supposed to be dead.”
Stastny and Khamasa stepped into the tent. Stastny was the first to speak. “I’m glad to see you’re alive and recovering Pala.” Khamasa nodded.
Clearing her throat and schooling her face to a formal frown, Khamasa began, “Pala, you’ve been through much more than anyone else here. More than anyone should ever go through. I can’t even imagine what you feel.”
Pala set her jaw. She didn’t want Khamasa’s sympathy. She wanted…. She didn’t know what she wanted. Was it just what was right? Or did it stretch to vindication? Or revenge?
Khamasa continued. “As Co-Mission Commander, I’m relieving you, Cadet Marshal Pala de la Croix, and Major Quade Justiss of duty until further notice.”
Stastny butted in, gloating. “Reinstatement pending the Earthside formal investigation of your actions, of course.”
Pala nodded, expecting as much. Now that she was well, she was a threat to the Miners' Union agenda. Stastny, as their representative would do whatever it took to get that Firone fungus additive back. She asked, “Why are you going back to Earth?”
“Why?” Stastny’s voice was unnaturally loud in the confines of the tent. “Because it’s our home. Not all of us are military maggots like you, Pala.”
She turned her attention to him. “I’m curious. What do you think that home will be worth, once this virus gets loose there and kills everyone you love?"
“We’ve taken care of the problem.” He swept his arm to indicate the camp. “Everyone is inoculated. There will be sterile facilities set up for us until they develop something that will kill the virus completely.” His sour expression made it clear he regretted that Makel had saved her life.
“Exactly how long do you think that will take? When is it over? Who gets to say that? What are that person’s motives? Can you trust his opinion? These accidents have happened before: Ebola, Anthrax, Dritex, Polyrane. The list goes on. Who gets to say when it’s safe? And what about the risk of it mutating again once it reaches Earth? How many people have to die before it really is safe? What about your family, Stastny? Are you willing to gamble with their lives?”
He threw his hands up in the air. “Of course not. That’s the point of the sterile facilities. As usual, you’re not listening.”
She glanced at Quade, then returned to Stastny. "We know about the fields of transplanted Firone fungus. We know about the addictive qualities. Did you know about the peptide bonds that cause birth defects, and even kill unborn children?" His face blanched. To his credit, though, he put on a brave front. She continued, "My question is, does the IPC know? Some are bound to: Riyst and General Grollier to name a couple, but what about the Interplanetary Drug Agency? Do they know? I bet they figure it out really fast when all the deformed babies start showing up. But, of course, by then, the Miners' Union will have made trillions of dollars on the sale of Firone whiskey to addicts. They'll be able to afford to pay any lawsuits and still show a profit."
Stastny pinched his lips into a hard line. He turned around and left the tent shaking his head, Khamasa following.
Pala whispered to Quade, “Can you get a message to Physe?”
CHAPTER
34
The morning was thick with shimmers that rose above the plain of brown and dying vegetation. Already, the sweat that trickled down Pala’s spine had pooled around her belt. Sweat slid in rivulets out from under the black visors of the armed cadets that babysat her and Quade in the back of the shuttle.
Physe flew them across the camp and into The Hawk. The bodies were gone, leaving the bay empty, and the shuttle settled gently to the floor. The whine of the euphonic engines filled the confined space as if it was air within a balloon. Abruptly, it shut off and the pressure deflated. Pala struggled out of the shuttle, her legs shaking. Quade slid his arm around her waist, adding his strength to hers. Together they stumbled toward her q
uarters. She was supposed to be incarcerated there for the duration of the journey as Quade was in his own quarters.
It had been three days since she’d awakened from her coma, three days since she’d found out about the plans to return to Earth. For those three days she’d argued, pleaded with and tried to blackmail Khamasa and Stastny to listen. No matter what she’d said, they refused to heed Denten’s warning.
Behind Pala and Quade came a sudden scuffle of metal on metal, a loud thump, followed by a low groan. As one, she and Quade stopped and turned around. Physe had the two guards shoved to the hard metal floor of the ship, one unconscious, his hand cannon pressed hard into the back of the other guard’s neck. Physe looked up at her, “The Hawk’s all yours. Most of the rangers on the other ships are loyal to you, though there are a few I’m still not sure about. Naturally, Khamasa opted to take the VIPs with her. Harlen's captaining Base One's StarGazer with Makel. I rearranged the loading of the ships as you ordered.”
Pala saluted her thanks, taking command of the ship from him. She and Quade changed direction to the bridge. The hard scents of the alloy walls and the thick sweat from her rangers soaked into Pala, along with the metal shift of her boots on the floor. Suddenly, she felt right again, like she had before the whole tragedy of this mission had started. She felt unified and in control. This was her ship, her men, her mission.
Slowly she limped to the cabin, leaning on Quade. There she dropped into her seat, her body remembering the contours of her chair. Quade went through the pre-flight check and the whine of the engines filled the cabin as they warmed. As they lifted off the ground, the sound deepened and added volume until they flew through the planet’s atmospheric layers into the black of space. There, the euphonic drives softened in pitch, functioning at their premium.
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