The High Lama was so excited he lost his concentration, and the psychic thread he'd striven so hard to maintain in the high mountains unraveled.
Regis drew a deep breath. Clearly, whatever was happening back there was too much for the man to handle. If he was right, and something inside Regis writhed, agreeing with his worst thought; he'd have to return. If the High Council allowed passage through, then he was to consider it an order and better hustle.
Hurriedly he dressed, at the same time calling watch control to have his private shuttle readied.
Roger Tate and his wife Elizabeth met him on the landing, and he saw immediately he was going to have trouble. They had suited up and were preparing to accompany him.
"Here now, you two, where do you think you're going? This is a one man operation. When I get back, I'm going to have a talk with that watch commander, whoever he is right now.” He glared at the monitors. “I don't like privately ordered commands piped all over the place. Aside from the security risks, it's improper military behavior."
Roger snorted. “What is the bloody point to having a military designed base, when all we're geared for are rescue operations? And now, when there might be a call to arms, you tackle it alone. It's not fair."
If these people were whom they said they were and came in force, nothing they possessed would move them, and they'd be blasted out of the skies. But at that moment another joined the argument.
"You're right about that!” came the call from behind them. Regis swung around only to groan. If it wasn't one thing it was another. Anthony Pembroke and his wife were coming down the ramp similarly suited up.
The beautifully regal woman came over and took hold of his shoulders, saying, “And where does my lord's master think he's going alone?"
"Listen, all of you,” Regis pleaded. “There is absolutely no need for any of this. I am capable of protecting myself, given any kind of circumstance, but that does not go for the rest of you."
They looked at one another and smiled.
"All right, it's true, you've been augmented and can control cellular processes, along with other biological functions, and you can even train others to do the same. Your paranormal abilities are quite formidable, that's all agreed, but let's be blunt about this."
He took a deep breath and told them what had really happened of late to short-circuit wild-haired excursions. “You've become too valuable to risk."
Mouths dropped open in astonishment. Regis took the opportunity to check and then recheck the safety buckles of his shield harness, glanced at the LED tell-tales, seeing green lights winking merrily, and with a grunt he turned and made his way alone to the landing platform where, instead of the shuttle he requested, was a Hornet fighter.
Struggling to maintain a frown, he clambered inside the cockpit and began pre-flight check-offs, calling them out to control.
"Geo-calibrator—check. Hydrogen generator—check. Anti-stasis shield—check. Coolant systems—check. Multi-cannons and burst ports—check. Guidance systems—check. Oxygen generator—check. General power systems—check. Autopilot—check. Transmitter—check. Camouflage-stealth system—check. Control, everything checks out down here."
"This is Control, commander. All checks confirmed. You are clear for liftoff."
"Open dome."
"Commander, we've just got word from Lieutenant Drew. She tells us you were observed in full gear but without personal weapons."
He shook his head in annoyance. “You may thank Lieutenant Drew for her astute observations and inform her that some time past I found I didn't need them anymore."
"Very well, commander. As long as it's on the record that you refused to arm yourself."
Again shaking his head, hating that he was the one who had instituted these safety procedures, unaware at the time what a headache they would be every time he went on a trip. He shrugged.
"Yes,” he said. “That's right."
"Safe flying, commander."
The dome opened.
"ETA Nepal, approximately three hours, thirty minutes."
"Confirmed. ETR?"
"Make it seventy-two hours."
"Confirmed. If you are not back in seventy-two hours, we go on alert and come for you."
"Control, who are you? You sound too happy about that."
"Lieutenant Hideki, sir!"
"Lord Inichi's nephew,” Regis muttered.
"Yes, sir!"
The floor under the single man fighter lifted its oval body upwards until it seemed it was going to crash into the ceiling, and then a section irised open, revealing the midnight sky ablaze with stars.
A slight lurch signaled that the couplings were unlocking. He thumbed on the anti-stasis field, and a lightness filled the instrument loaded capsule as the Hornet silently rose to 500 meters. Autopilot was centered due southwest by 270 degrees. Easing into lateral thrust, anti-stasis revolved against the current gravity stresses, and he suddenly accelerated to Mach 2.
Behind him, his people stared, silent.
"I don't like this,” declared Anthony.
"Well, what would you have us do?” Roger demanded. “Disobey orders? You know how cross he can get."
"We could sneak up on him."
"You know that won't work. His powers have increased to the point where even he isn't sure what he can and can't do. I think he surprises himself."
The girls looked at each other and at their men and realized they shared worried frowns. Taking their mates by the hand they led them wordlessly back to their separate apartments, experiencing telempathic feelings.
The alarm calmly piped and awakened him. Then an automatic voice told him they were in an approach pattern. He grunted sourly. Roger and his multiple safety designs were going a bit far.
His craft slowed from its Mach 5 velocity, and the pressure against his chest eased. He'd figure something out about that. He'd licked the problem of skin heat against the craft, ensuring that with enough reflective capabilities heat was dissipated, but in-line gravity stress was still a problem.
He could have used advice concerning thermodynamics, not a field he took great liking for in school.
"Sir, we're coming up on target,” announced his console. “Weapons at the ready."
"Thank you. Weapons stand down."
"Are you certain, sir?"
Regis sighed. Well, at least the ADT, the automatic distance-guidance co-pilot worked, which made certain everyone on a mission returned safely.
At three thousand feet above the monastery he descended. As a precaution, his weapon systems switched on. He sent out a mental probe, and almost lost control when a pair of sweet, firm lips brushed against his own.
"What in the—!"—!” He probed again, and a beautiful face with clear green-violet eyes met his own ... and his breath caught.
Shar-Mei?
"Well, haven't you missed me?"
"It's not possible. It can't be."
"Nothing is beyond the capabilities of Battle Maidens, mister. Don't you forget it!"
The craft landed like a feather in the courtyard, and he stumbled out of the cockpit to face a dozen Battle Maidens in fighting gear. At their head to greet him was the horrible, wonderful Shar-Mei, who had sworn when they were nine years old that he was hers, and if a woman wanted to fight her about it, she was welcome to try. No one did.
Of course, when her father heard this, he let his wife know whom her daughter had selected, and she murmured that at least it was a fine house to join.
He contacted Reg-I-Nald's father and started a contractual understanding, so the little brat wouldn't bother him about it when she got older.
"Shar-Mei?” He looked stunned.
She, on the other hand, looked at her compatriots apologetically. “He always was a little slow."
They looked him up and down and grunted. Good shoulders. Fine head. Clear eyes. But what about his teeth?
He blushed.
"Look at yourself!"
He looked at himself.
She reached up, his height slightly above hers, and straightened a forelock. Then she pulled his head down to meet her lips. At first, there was a tender, thoughtful kiss, and then Regis jerked away, a hand going to his mouth.
"Ouch!” he exclaimed. “What was that for?"
"Just getting back for that thumb. I still bear the scar, you know."
"Oh.” He looked sheepish. “Forgot about that..."
"I didn't."
"Yes, well, what are you doing here on Earth?"
"Number one,” she ticked off. “I've come to take you home. Number two, we're to marry. Number three, we're to rear at least three strong offspring, and if you're especially nice, I'll let one of them be a boy."
"Shar-Mei,” he tried patiently. “I don't know how you managed this, but this does not look like an official visit from the High Council, and if it isn't, you better know that I've been exiled here. It was to be a little longer than it has been. Besides, as long as father doesn't make any waves over there, the family business will be allowed to prosper. I wasn't so dense I couldn't figure that out."
Shar-Mei sighed with exasperation. “Stars give me patience."
One of her troupe laughed, but squelched it when the commander looked in her direction.
"Look,” she said. “Why do you think you haven't been contacted once in all this time?"
He shrugged helplessly, wondering what the other was getting at. “I don't know. I suspected they were satisfied with my performance. I've tried my level best to make this world a wiser, safer place to be."
"My people have picked up bits and pieces of what's been happening around here, and I admit I'm proud of you. One of my logistics people tells me that in two hundred years, they'll probably be approached and asked if they wish to apply for Galactic status."
He swallowed with pride.
"And all that's to the good, Reggie, but I've disturbing news for you, boy, so catch up. Things are not what they seem. You were abandoned."
"What are you talking about?"
"We're talking major sabotage by the High Council, frightened to death that you were going to become some super leader and take over."
"What!” he exclaimed, wounded. “I never!"
His child-like response was so cute she smiled. “Of course not, you ninny. But that's what they were thinking. And to prevent something that was never going to happen, they went to a great deal of trouble to arrange transfers of key personnel to oversee the placement transmitter."
Things were thrown at him too fast. He blinked in astonishment.
"How did you get here?"
She slapped her holstered photonics. “With these."
He whispered, “You—you threatened members of the High Council?"
"Reggie, that's one of the reasons you've got to come back with me. Ninety percent of the Senate has resigned. The High Council is in a shambles. All the colonial sectors are seceding from the mother planet, alien trading factions are embargoing our commerce, portions of the military are planning coups, and people are rioting."
"By the stars,” he breathed. “What next?"
"Detention camps."
His head swung up as if it had been slapped. “Such places are forbidden!"
"Reg-I-Nald, if ever a Bearer of the Light was needed, it's now!"
He stiffened. A blue fire sparkled in his eyes. “All this to get rid of me, was it?"
"Apparently, just having you in the vicinity was enough to turn over a lot of rocks, and what was beneath were worms dressed as councilors, and their chief, Amaron himself."
"Place in a shambles, is it?"
"Just about."
He grinned softly. “Need me, do you?"
"Well, frankly, I can take care of myself, but there are a couple billion others who'd appreciate a helping hand, yes."
The High Lama slipped up quietly and motioned Regis aside.
"What is it, High One?"
"Regis,” said the monk without ceremony. “You must leave. The situation has been explained at last, and I must admit that were you to remain, pleasant as that prospect may be, your own world becomes endangered."
"But there's still so much to be done,” Regis said. “I'd leave behind everything I've struggled to build."
"Will you leave it in the hands of those who would destroy your work?"
"Er, no."
"Then the solution is clear. What has passed will not be undone. What you've built will remain, what you've planted will grow, and our world, thanks to your contribution, has matured."
Reg-I-Nald was still hesitant.
"Regis, without your Rescue International Network, there are those who would not have survived. Those who could not pass on their genius to others. Nothing you have done has been in vain. The moment you stepped on our world, we were blessed. If that had not occurred, fifty, perhaps seventy years more, and we would have been lost. We will not forsake the gift of life."
"But—"
"I'm suggesting that Earth was part of a greater destiny. To partake of what awaits means that you must now go on."
Oompal slipped up beside them, openly weeping. “The High One is right. You must go. You must."
Abruptly he turned, his attention fixed on Shar-Mei. “You were transmitted?"
"Yes."
"Then you've no hardware to get back. How can you be sure we'll be picked up?"
She laughed softly, the other Battle Maidens mirroring her humor. “Oh, I don't think that's a problem, my love."
"When's next transmittance?"
She glanced at a ring inset noting the time and consulted a voice com, receiving information by mute-tone.
"In half a drome. Temple grounds."
Regis licked his lips. “Ten minutes."
He stared into the mountains, remembering the seven long years of effort, self-training, the training of others, and the many trials that led to this moment.
Regis shed his instrument harness and handed it to the High Lama. “This device, formed in the shape of a triangle, must be inserted in the control panel of the ship. It will give you immediate communication with my base. Tell them what happened. The ship should be picked up before another day is over. They'll send someone. Tell them there is a time lock on the vault. They'll know what that means. I've left instructions in the event of an accident.” He looked over his shoulder at Shar-Mei and had to shake his head. “Some accident."
The High One vowed it would be done. Oompal bowed and thanked the Gods she was witness to the miracle of his presence on Earth and all he stood for, the Coming of Light into Darkness.
Shar-Mei stared. Embarrassed, he nodded shortly. Before he knew what was happening he was caught by Battle Maidens and hustled. They were anxious to get back.
* * * *
"Duck, you fool!"
Doral ducked and felt the wave wash of a blaster blistering the space he'd occupied.
Synthis leaped up with a snarl and let loose with a battle rifle on full automatic. “Take that, scum!” Two Imperial troopers were blown backwards, and fell, their chest harnesses and shields in bloody tatters.
Doral pulled at her tattered gown and hauled her around the corner. “Will you please take things more calmly. I saw it coming, but don't get them so mad that they start another charge. And try not to kill those fools. Just a little while ago some were customers!"
"Don't you dare dictate to me,” she scolded. “They're shielded, and we're as naked as gristle warts in a high storm!"
"Well, we wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for you,” he accused. “If you hadn't acted so rashly when we got word what was happening down here, we could have been better prepared!"
"Yes, but if it weren't for Shar-Mei finding out about their last ditch effort to destroy the transmitter, we wouldn't have been in time to stop them!"
Synthis...” Her feminine logic was too convoluted to make much of it. He shook his head and agreed.
"All right, we're here now, just where you want us."
/> "Now all we have to do is make sure they don't get by?"
"Don't get by? What in the hell are you talking about, woman? It was never my intention to stop them, just divert them. You're the one who put a photonic in the middle of my back and marched me here, or did you forget that bit?"
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Correct me if I'm wrong, but are you saying you didn't want to rescue our son?"
He sighed with exasperation. “Will you reason this out? Our son, as you so easily entitle him, happens to be a grown man able to take care of himself, and if this is any kind of a statement of the fear he's able to generate from out of time and space, then I'm confident he needs our help like a battle cruiser needs cuddling from a sailboat!"
"I hope you're not referring to my weight—coward!"
"Bitch!"
"Whoremonger!"
"Interloper!"
"Wimp!"
"Parasite!"
A helmeted face looked around the corner at the far end of the hall, spotted them arguing, and thought he would have a clean shot, but instead, he got it in the face from both.
His colleagues looked at his headless body and waited for further reinforcements. Those two weren't going anywhere.
"If you would let me handle the affairs of this family without going off the deep end every time you find out I'm keeping things from you, you might realize it was for yours, and everyone else's, own good,” Doral bit out. “But that would be too much to hope for. You've always got to stick your fingers in the gruel and stir matters up. Have you any idea what this is going to cost us when it's over?"
Angrily, he switched to solid slugs from beam power and tried for a ricochet. From the sound of the yelping, it had an effect.
"No, I don't,” she admitted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “But if I know you, you're sure to make a profit."
"Damn right!"
There was a whumping sound at the end of the hallway, and the body of the headless trooper was pulled back.
The Fourth Guardian Page 27
