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White, Steve - [The Disinherited 01] - The Disinherited
entered bounded toward them. With a metallic snick, a long blade
sprang from under the armor s left forearm. Just as the guard started
to turn to face him, the newcomer swung the blade backhanded in a
long sideways cut with all the force of which powered armor was
capable, and the guard s head thudded to the floor. For an instant
the body stood. Then, fountaining blood from the stump of its long
thick neck, it toppled over toward Tarlann and Iael, drenching them
with the warm stickiness.
Abruptly, the firefight ended, and in the sudden silence the armored
figure approached and opened its viewplate. The man within looked
down at them and smiled.
DiFalco wondered what a boy he looked fourteen or fifteen, tops
was doing here. (Hell, what were any humans doing in this
chamber, fighting a battle?) And the man was badly wounded; he d
have to send for a medic. He opened his mouth to try to speak to
them, then decided to stop kidding himself about his aptitude for
languages. He called a Raehaniv Marine over to translate.
I m Colonel DiFalco, leader of your Terran allies. We and the
Resistance have taken this installation, and you re safe now.
The man smiled through his obvious pain and began talking.
Then, leaping out of the stream of rapid-fire Raehaniv, came the
syllables Tarlann hle Morna.
What?!
The Marine grinned. That s right, Colonel. He s Varien s son!
Ah, tell him we ll get him medical attention soon. And& tell him
he and I have a lot to talk about!
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The sun was high in the sky, a red ball shining faintly through the
smoke of the many fires, by the time they stumbled up out of the
depths of the subterranean abattoir that was the fortress and
emerged into the light.
Got to get Raenoli to put her people to work on fire control before
all the blazes coalesce and we get a firestorm, DiFalco thought in
his fatigue-sodden brain as he was assisted out of the powered
armor s access hatch. He was just remembering that it had already
been done when a shuttle came over the ruined buildings around the
landing zone and set down in a swirl of dust.
As the hatch opened, a rift parted in the smoke and glorious golden
sunlight seemed to ignite the flame-like colors of the woman who
stepped out and ran toward him.
No, DiFalco thought, weariness and horror lifting from him like an
insubstantial fog. Her fire comes from within, not from the sun. She
brings the light with her, and the darkness cannot stand against her.
Then they were in each others arms, oblivious to those around them,
even to Varien, who walked slowly down the ramp and set foot on
the world of his birth.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
They stood in the ancient chamber, gazing across the ages into that
inexplicable stone face that had been carved out of the stuff of this
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asteroid a light-millennium from Earth in an age when Earth s
humanity had gotten no closer to spaceflight than a thrown flint
hand-axe.
The maps in the Terranova system. This face here at Tareil.
Aelanni s voice was hushed. In both cases, the same perfectly
logical explanation for why they were left behind: they were relief
sculptures, part of rock walls. And yet& no maps here, no faces
there. Why?
DiFalco shook his head slowly and continued to study the face. It
could have passed for Raehaniv, which meant it was within the
range of Earth s races and mixtures of races, though not really like
any of them. And who really knows what Cro-Magnon s facial
features looked like, beyond basic bone structure?
Aloud: I don t know, Aelanni. It s as if they were two parts of a
puzzle.
But it still doesn t add up to a complete picture, does it? We re still
mystified Are there, perhaps, other parts?
There must be. DiFalco was grim. I ll tell you this: when we get
back to Sol, I m going to advocate a thorough search of the
asteroids and the outer-planet satellites for more of these bases, or
whatever they were.
But that would be an overwhelming task! Remember, the two we
know of were only discovered by blind chance.
Yeah at almost exactly the same time. That s another thing that
bothers me. He shook his head irritably. He hated mysteries.
Anyway, we have to start somewhere. For now, shall we get back?
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At her nod, he reached up and took off his virtual-reality headpiece.
Aelanni was doing the same, here in their suite in the Provisional
Governments headquarters in Sarnath. By now he had gotten used
to the way the universe, as reported by his senses, abruptly changed.
They regarded each other in silence for a moment and then, by
unspoken mutual consent, walked out onto the balcony. The building
secondary government offices before the war stood on a hill
with a fair view of the city, and Sarnath lay before them under
lightly-overcast skies, its wounds visible but the pulse of life
somehow perceptible. Already the work of rebuilding had
commenced.
DiFalco thought back to the first days after the liberation, when the
populace had come hesitantly out of the places it had taken shelter.
As the shock had worn off, a long-pent-up reaction had erupted with
irrepressible force even after all he had seen during the battle, he
still shuddered at the memory of what the crowds had done to the
ex-Implementers they had hunted down. He and Thompson sans
left arm, but with the replacement growing nicely in the tank had
tried to protect the ones who had surrendered by posting a heavy
Marine guard on the prisoner compound. Then they had toured the
lowest levels of the fallen fortress, and listened to tales of what had
been done there from those who had been freed. Afterwards, he and
Thompson had exchanged a long look and Thompson had given
his troops the afternoon off.
Finally the cathartic insanity had run its course, leaving the
Raehaniv drained, stunned by the realization of what they were
capable of. Rosen had speculated that centuries of social harmony
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had left them without antibodies against mob psychology. At any
rate, the habits of civilization had returned, perhaps even deeper for
no longer being taken for granted, and the Provisional Government
was having an easier time of it than DiFalco would have expected.
It was headed by a troika of Arduin, Tarlann and Raenoli. (Varien
had firmly refused any formal position.) Some had suggested that
they establish their headquarters in some relatively unharmed city
like Noreflarn, but Arduin had set his face against it: Sarnath had
always been the capital, and so it would remain, as a gesture both of
continuity and of defiance.
DiFalco and Aelanni clasped hands as they gazed over the city,
drawing on its quickening life. I ve been able to see some of Raehan
over the last few weeks, he thought, remembering his hurried visits
to various parts of the planet. This lovely world Aelanni s world
will live, and heal. That is enough.
The door chimed for admittance and DiFalco spoke a command, as
he could do by now without having Raehaniv computers turn up the
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