Requiem for the Conqueror

Chapter 33

Muscles pumping, Staff a struggled up the long slanting tunnel. He could sense MacRuder's strength sagging under the heavy battle comm they labored to carry to the surface. Distant light beckoned escape at the end of the square adit. Mac tripped and staggered, almost dropping the load.

"Hold it a minute." Staffa settled the heavy piece of machinery to the cut stone as MacRuder slumped. The Regan hung his head, gasping pants torn from a strained throat.

"Outta steam," MacRuder wheezed. "Sorry, didn't know I—"

"Go on," Staffa added gently. "I can carry it from here."

"But that's. " MacRuder clamped his mouth shut as Staffa heaved, lifting the burden, arms barely spanning to either handle.

"Go," Staffa grunted, pushing forward.

MacRuder nodded, plodding ahead, keeping out of the way.

Daylight stabbed blindingly even though the sun lay on the purple mountain rim of the western horizon. The crystal air soothed, a balm of freshness that carried no stink of death and combat, no metallic odor of blood or acrid sharpness of punctured intestines.

Staffa fought for breath as he stumbled out of the shaft and settled the heavy equipment onto a mat of flowers, bruising the soft carpet of greenery.

Practiced fingers flipped on switches, checking power, and folding out the antenna. He clutched the mike, adjusting the dish to send over 360.°

"Rysta!" he called, eyes searching the heavens. "For God's sake, don't fire! This is the Lord Commander! We've got most of your Division here. We're outside. You hear?

Don't fire!" His jaw muscles rippled as he waited for a response.

Silence. "Rysta! Damn you, you can have me! You hear? I know what Tybalt's orders are! By the Blessed Gods, what's the purpose of all these people dying for me?" His heart stuttered in his chest.

"Listen, Rysta, why kill the better part of an entire Division? It's not worth it! I give you my word, I surrender! No tricks! Spare these people!"

Frantically, he looked around, seeing the thick knot around him-mostly armored Regans. They watched him, hope shining on every face. Some held hands; some hugged each other. Others stood somberly, heads down, awaiting the inevitable. Here and there, people sat, fingers laced into plants and soil. Others, wounded, lay gasping, some beyond caring.

"Rysta? Gods Rot you, answer me!"

Across from him MacRuder panted, worry bright in his blue eyes. Kaylla chewed her lip, brow furrowed. Bruen held his face in his hands.

"Rysta!" Staffa bellowed into the comm. "Answer!" MacRuder bent over the transmitter, studying the readouts. "It's sending. No doubt of that."

Bruen pulled his head up; his hip hurt him, his bruised head was livid in the white sunlight. "I, too, will surrender. This was all my doing."

"Rysta?" Staffa continued. "The Seddi leader, Magister Bruen, will surrender. Just don't kill your own people!" The muscles in his chest and shoulders bunched as he slammed a palm into the comm. "Damn it, you don't shoot after a surrender! Section fifty-four, paragraph eight of the Regan Military Field Manual orders you to cease fire!"

He searched the skies, wondering.

"Nothing," MacRuder said softly. "Nothing is coming in. Not from above anyway."

"Rysta?" Staffa gritted. "If you want begging, all right, I'm begging! Whatever you want, you get." He closed his eyes, feeling his face go hot. That it should come to this, the Lord Commander begging.

He thrust the mike at MacRuder. "You try. They're your people."

As MacRuder's quavering voice beseeched the skies, Staffa walked off several steps and shook his head, waiting for that brief moment when the world turned upside down into oblivion.

He felt a hand touch the hardened armor of his shoulder. "You tried, Lord Commander," Kaylla told him.

He snorted sourly. "Looks like this time Tuff didn't come through, doesn't

it?"

"You've been seeking atonement. Maybe you've made more progress than you.know. Perhaps you have achieved your grace."

He met her knowing gaze and smiled wistfully. "You know what I did. Perhaps if I had managed to break the Forbidden Borders, left humanity in better condition than I found it. "

For the first time she looked awkward, deprived of her everpresent poise. "God will know. Only when that consciousness is finally shared, can you judge."

MacRuder ceased transmitting, looking up numbly, eyes stricken. "Sink, you can't do this to us. Sink, we're here. You can't let us down… just run off and leave us without trying.

Staffa moved to reach out with a reassuring hand. "He didn't. He made every effort. It was Tybalt's order-not Fist's. As much as I would like to blame it on him, the fault lies with the Empire… and the Seddi."

Mac closed his eyes, swallowing hard.

"Damn it!" someone growled. "Why are they taking so long? If they want to kill us, Rotted Gods, get it over with!" "Maybe they're talking it over," Bruen mumbled, settling himself by the comm, shifting his weight.

Staffa picked up the mike again. "They might be charging the system. Takes a while before a full power discharge." "Great," Kaylla muttered hopelessly.

"Here it comes!" MacRuder cried as a glaring light filled the sky.

Staffa averted'his eyes from the flash and reached an arm around Kaylla, pulling her close. She buried her head against his shoulder.

I am at peace with myself. I did my best. He hugged her tighter as the comm began to crackle.

"Commander?" The Comm First's careful voice cut the silence. "I have the Lord Commander on comm."

Rysta shifted in the command chair. "I don't want to hear it. Cut him off. We've got our orders. Staffa's threats are meaningless now."

:'Yes, ma'am. Channel clear."

'Uh, ma'am?" the Comm First continued hesitantly. "What now?" Rysta's voice echoed across the bridge as the hum of power surged through the ship. She turned to throw her meanest glare.

"We have transmissions coming in." The Comm First bent over the monitor. "Early warning system indicates ships are inbound." Another crisp call caused her to freeze. "They're coming from out of the sun. ETA, five minutes." Rysta called, "Weapons, how long?"

"Another thirty seconds, Commander."

"Hold that. Out of the sun?" Options raced through her mind. "Rotted Gods, you don't suppose that's Ily Takka sneaking back for a last look?" She sneered at the monitor. "Comm, put it through. Let's see who this is. "

The main screen flickered, filling with a woman's features.

"Rotted Gods," Rysta whispered. "Weapons! Battle stations! All hands!"

"That won't be necessary, Rysta," Skyla Lyma's voice brought all eyes to the screen, riveting their attention. "We've got you dead to rights. You're powered up for planetary discharge. If we shoot now, every system on that ship will fry when your shielding overloads."

Rysta's eyes slitted, thoughts racing desperately, hating the truth of their situation. "What do you want?"

Skyla said coolly. "Roll ninety degrees and dump every erg you've got. Blow it into space." Her ice-blue eyes narrowed. "If you don't, Chrysla is going to blast Gyton into a mini nova. Think you're up to that?"

Rysta searched for an out. "The Lord Commander is on Targa. Back off and clear the system, Skyla, or we turn him into-"

"Then you're dead," Skyla stated uncompromisingly.

"And after Gyton, we're hitting Rega. You decide, Rysta. Do we get to pull Staffa off that planet and go home quietly? Or do we avenge ourselves on the heartland of the Regan Empire?"

Curse the Rotted Gods, Lyma and the Companions would go berserk if she blasted the planet-and long before then, Gyton would be gutted space junk. Anger

washed away with defeat. Wearily, she ordered, "Roll ninety and dump!" Suddenly, she felt very, very old.

Static faded along with the brilliant flare of light that streaked across the sky. Staffa lifted a hand to shield his eyes and shook his head. "I don't understand. Rysta? What the hell is going on?"

A coolly possessed voice came from the comm box: "Lord Commander? We heard your transmission. Please reply. If we do not hear from you immediately, we will destroy Gyton and assume all Regan forces on Targa to be hostile. "

Staffa chuckled, releasing Kaylla and lifting the mike. "Cutting it a bit close, don't you think, Wing Commander?" Her voice remained aloof and professional. "Certain pre-

cautions were necessary prior to entering the Targan system. This is hostile space, Lord Commander."

Warmth spread through Staffa. "Very good, Wing Commander. I take it you've neutralized the threat from above?"

"We have Gyton centered in the forward batteries. Two Regan Assault Transports are also in orbit. Jinx Mistress, Simva Ast, and Viktrix are closing in support. Sabot and Slap are in covering positions."

"Sounds like you brought the whole fleet."

"We considered it necessary," Skyla declared dryly. "Your record wasn't exactly impeccable on Etaria, Lord Commander."

He paused. "Yes, well, there were mitigating circumstances." He winced, knowing people were watching. "What about us?" Mac's worried voice rasped.

Staffa straightened and looked at the ring of nervous

Regan faces. "You're all safe. In fact, you might consider coming with us to the Itreatic Asteroids. We've always got a place for people with your talent and initiative-and no emperor orders Companions to leave their fellows to die in the dark. "

Glances flashed back and forth among the Regans. "Wing Commander?" Staffa turned his attention back to the mike. "We'll need evacuation for almost seven hundred people."

"Affirmative. Special Tactics Officer Ryman Ark has several squads in the assault craft. Should he expect hostilities?"

"Negative. I think it's all under control here."

"We have your transmission source pinpointed. Expect Ark in… seventeen minutes. "

"Affirmative." Staffa pursed his lips and stared up at the darkening sky. "Bruen, I'm afraid you'll have to evacuate with us." The Seddi took their turn shuffling feet and shooting nervous glances at each other.

"You'll have a safe haven in the Itreatic Asteroids." Staffa pushed his hair over his shoulder where the wind teased it. "You can't stop now. You all have work to Tursue. I'll need your help and your intelligence resources to see if we can sidetrack this war between Rega and Sassa."

Bruen-looking like a shrunken skeleton-rubbed a knobby hand over his face. "Evacuate with you to the Itreatic Asteroids? Who would have thought it? Especially after all these years, after all the plans ……

"You Rotted well can't stay here."

Kaylla paled, slipping to the ground, a sour expression on her face. "I'm not going," she gasped, shivering and clutching herself tightly. "I can't… face those men who……

Staffa bowed his head. "No, I suppose not. But where can you go? There's a Regan death warrant out for you. You've got to evacuate the planet."

Magister Bruen shook his head. "Such a mess we've all made."

Staffa wet his lips, kneeling beside Kaylla. He searched her frightened eyes. "I can't help the past. I know what I've been… who I am. But there's a safe place for you in the

Itreatic Asteroids. A place where you can be alone, pursue the work you began on Maika. There will be no men, no terrors from the past."

He swallowed. "One time on Etaria, I told you I would restore you to Maika

if I could. I… I intend to see to that promise. "

She shook her head, hot tears beginning to leave streaks down sun-browned cheeks. "I…. No. " A trembling fist went to her mouth. "No. Maika is dead for me… as are so many that I… loved. I wouldn't go back there."

"We need you," Bruen added in his cracked ancient voice. "Humanity needs you. You must take my place. I know you, Kaylla. I know the power of your mind, the way you have been tempered. The Seddi need someone of your capabilities, your strength. "

"Let me…. I must think."

Staffa straightened, feeling the fingers of the ghouls stroking at the back of his mind. He looked up, spotting the familiar contrails of assault craft in the ionosphere. He watched with approval as his lean-winged craft made a standard double-cover approach. The deadly wedges shimmered behind energy shielding as they settled around the clearing.

Staffa marched out to meet the first craft to land on the trampled valley grass before Makarta. The forward ramp dropped and Ryman Ark's trained people hit the ground at a run, their figures shimmering and indistinct behind the energy barriers. They deployed with weapons at the ready.

"Crack team," Staffa heard Mac mutter behind him. Staffa grinned as Ark trotted forward in full assault gear, his black face grim. Staffa shook his head, laughing with relief. "What? No finger ID necessary? You're slipping, Ark. '

"Been a while, Chief." Ark's lips curled into a smile as they hugged each other, pounding backs. Ark finally pushed back, a quizzical look on his face. "How in five Rotted hells did you get into this mess anyway?"

"It's a long story. How's Skyla?" he asked, a sudden lump in his throat.

Ark frowned. "I…. Rotted Gods, Lord Commander, I don't know. She was frantic getting us here. Regular tyrant.

Then, as we closed… I don't know. She tightened up. Clammed up hard as a Riparian shellfish. When I left the bridge, well, would you believe she was wringing her hands? That one?"

"All right, load up. Let's blow this rock and 1 want that tunnel over there blasted on the way out."

"Got something hidden in there?" Ark mused thoughtfully.

"An obsession. One I must come back to someday." The Mag Comm's presence tickled at his mind, beckoning.

He turned, watching hudded knots of Regan soldiers where they muttered to each other, MacRuder at the center of the largest circle, arms moving passionately.

"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.

"To love.

She said nothing, furious gaze never leaving his face. "Drink," the Imperial Seventh ordered, sipping at his sherry.

Slowly, the glass touched her lips. Never did the hatred in her eyes waver. Finished, she put the glass on a sculpted counter. "I'll kill you, Regan."

"No, my dear, not so long as you wear the collar."

A curious light danced in her eyes. "It shuts off all feeling? It did when your bitch, Takka, used it the first time on the LC."

"Everything below the neck. That's why I've already won. By couldn't have pleased me more than by making a gift of you. "

Her eyes flickered as a slight frown formed.

With his glass, he gestured. "Come closer. Ah, don't hesitate like that. You have no choice. Come-or suffer the collar. "

She swallowed, throat working. Almost trembling, she took a step, then another, the light material swirling around her long graceful legs.

Tybalt reached out a hand, feeling her shudder as he placed it on her shoulder. "That's it, dear one. See, not so terrible, is it? The collar can overcome any assortment of obstacles. Even psychological training."

She went tense, trembling, every muscle in her body twitching as he ran his fingers along the side of her face. "You know, Arta, I will take very good care of you. It isn't such a bad life, being my slave. "

She had closed her eyes, teeth chattering behind tight lips.

"Ily let me see the tapes of your interrogation. I know you were trained on Etaria. You know the arts of love, my dear. It's up to me to liberate them within you. That's why you'll never want again, dear Arta. Ask and I shall grant you most anything."

"D-don't … touch me," she managed, fighting revulsion.

"That I won't grant-or your freedom either. No, dearest, I'll keep you for myself." His fingers dropped to the broach at her shoulder, unpinning the soft material. He stepped back as it fluttered down her body, shimmering in the subdued light.

"Marvelous," he breathed. "The most exquisite woman I have ever seen."

She seemed to still her trembling, opening her eyes to watch him guardedly as he unfastened his own garments, stepping out of the pile they made on the floor. Something changed in her expression as he came close.

"Easy, Arta. Relax. We have all night. Don't fight me. I control the collar."

He caught her in mid-leap, stepping out of the way as she crashed nervelessly to the floor.

He released the control. "It might turn out to be a long night. This is a simple stimulus response reconditioning. You can learn to control your training." Tybalt refilled his sherry as she gasped on the floor. "Stand up."

Patiently, he dropped her time after time while she fought the collar and him. Finally, drained, she withstood the impulse to attack as he reached and ran a hand down her skin.

"There, see, the training can be overcome." Tybalt smiled and reached forward to kiss her. His lips touched hers.. He triggered the collar before her knee was halfway to his crotch.

"Can't do that, dearest," Tybalt chided.

She seemed to be on her feet more quickly this time, as if drawing on some inner reserve.

He kissed her hard, pressing himself to her, feeling his passion grow. Again he triggered the collar before she could strike.

"You have incredible endurance," Tybalt murmured. "The Seddi are truly masters at their craft. " He dropped

beside her as she lay on the floor, triggering the collar again, allowing his hands to caress her. "No, the time has come, dear Arta."

Each time she began to resist, he used the collar. Finally he lay on her, his manhood spent. He filled his lungs with the odor of her as sweat trickled down his sides to mix with hers.

Sighing, he forced himself up, going for more sherry. "We will get better at that, you and L"

The second time he took her, she controlled herself. After his orgasm he lay on her, staring into her eyes, dazzled by the amber and the depths of her black pupils. She chuckled softly and reached her long arms around him as a cunning satisfaction filled her expression.

"See," he cooed, "you can give pleasure without striking. "

"Yes," she added thoughtfully. "I am past that.",'Work for me. Give me the bliss of an Etarian Priestess." She followed him when he went for another glass of

sherry, and joined him, taking a glass, draining it. She smiled in private triumph as she sipped the amber liquor. Tybalt laughed, throwing his head back. "There is no

power in Free Space greater than Tybalt! I have broken the Seddi!" He reached to draw her close. "You, my dear, I have freed! "

"No, Tybalt," her sensual tones corrected. "You see, I have freed myself."

"Uh-uh!" He shook a finger at her. "That is a rule you must learn. Never correct the Emperor."

"Of course," she agreed, eyes slitted, head back.

'And we have a full night ahead of us!" He pointed at the floor.

Still smiling, warmth radiating from her eyes, she lay back, spreading her wealth of body on the soft fabrics. Tybalt set his glass down and lowered himself. Her fingers traced the lines of his back, nails making him quiver.

"Let me show you something," she whispered seductively to him. "Just lie there. Don't be afraid. After all, you control the collar." She stood, muscles rippling along her body.

Awed, Tybalt's heart skipped. "What a wonder you are, Arta Fera. "

A secret smile curled on her lips.

He triggered the collar as she leapt high and arrowed downward. The force of the impact smashed him into the unforgiving floor. His sternum and ribs

snapped loudly under her hard knee. Tybalt's mouth dropped open as he lay stunned.

She filled his vision as she bent. He stared up in pained disbelief. An odd croaking came from his throat. He tried to get his breath. Frantically, he triggered the collar again, seeing her fight it, seeing her still pulling air into her lungs as she ran long fingers around the collar.

"You see, Tybalt," she whispered, "I have freed myself." Panic caused him to scramble away from her, each movement a spear of agony in his chest. "Help," he mouthed, voice a hoarse croak.

"There is no help. I overheard the guard say you keep this room unmonitored so your wife can never have evidence to use against you."

Again and again he triggered the collar, tasting the brass of blood in his mouth; a gurgling rose in his throat.

She crushed her knee into his chest again, lancing white agony through his body. He gagged, trying to throw up. Her forearm-hard with muscle-cut his gag reflex short as she leaned down to look into his eyes.

"Enjoying it, Tybalt? Do you like the fear? The pain? Feeling degraded? Just like rape, don't you agree?" She tilted her head slightly before leaning forward, kissing him gently on the lips. "That last was for freeing me, Tybalt."

The Imperial Seventh stared, hypnotized by the blood on her lips-his blood-the same blood that dribbled down the side of his face. Unable to move, dizzy, pain-glazed, he saw her turn. Her kick jolted his entire body as she crushed his manhood against his pubis bone.

The white-hot grip of agony pulled him deeper and deeper into oblivion. Blood-smeared lips expanded into gleaming amber eyes-his last sight as he trembled and died.

Ily Takka smiled in satisfaction as Tybalt's physical signs weakened on the small hand-held monitor she carried. She flashed the jessant-de-lis at the guard and used the badge

to deactivate the security door to Tybalt's personal quarters. Ily stepped quietly into the room as Arta Fera bent over Tybalt's dark body, kissing him fervently. The Minister of Internal Security winced at the Seddi assassin's final kick, oddly shaken by the brutality of it.

Fera watched as Tybalt quivered and slowly relaxed. A fragment of rib had pushed though the side of his chest like a bloody lance. Fera turned then, seeing Ily for the first time. Eyes going to the blaster pointed in her direction.

"Very well done," Ily praised. "Couldn't have done it better myself."

Arta Fera tossed her head, flipping her full-bodied hair over her shoulder as she walked to the console and poured sherry into a glass. She rinsed her mouth and spit, wiping her lips clean on the expensive fabric hanging from the walls.

She checked herself in a reflecting glass and turned. "Now what?"

Ily leaned against the door, alert, pistol ready. "I hate to do it, but you'll have to be tried. The psych experts will confirm your deep trigger. The collar will be found to be faulty. Mareeah Rath's family will be so disgusted they'll want to cover up the whole thing."

Arta's amber eyes took her measure. "It won't be that easy, Ily. Is there a shower here?"

"In the corner. Press the golden knob. But leave the door open. I don't like surprises."

Arta walked over to press the knob and stepped in. Finding soap she began washing, heedless of the water splashing onto the fine fabrics.

"And why won't it?" Ily gave herself plenty of room as she crossed to the console, pouring herself a glass of sherry, never allowing the pistol to waver.

"Because the deep trigger is broken. That's why I kissed the bastard. I owe him for that. The rest I paid back in kind. "

Ily sipped the sherry. "Then I should probably kill you now. "

Arta nodded, scrubbing thoroughly. "That would eliminate any threat from me. On the other hand, a lot of things were broken along with the psych trigger."

"Such as?" Ily cocked her head, turning the glass in her fingers.

"Such as my loathing for Rega." Arta turned off the water, studying the surroundings. "How do you dry off in this thing?"

"Silver handle on the right," Ily offered, amused at the way the woman jumped

as the energy fields ran down her body. Water trickled away in streams. "So?"

Arta stepped out, walking in a wide detour around Tybalt to get her gossamer dress. She picked it up, looking at it with disgust. "Anything else to wear in here?"

"To fit a body like yours? I'm not sure. Touch the wall there by the holo."

Arta did and shuffled through the garments standing in the antigrav field. She chose a long wraparound and tightened it about her.

"You once mentioned that you might have a place for a woman of my training and ability." Arta crossed her arms over the too-tight fabric at her chest.

"I have a dead Emperor here." Ily tilted her head toward Tybalt's body.

Arta's eyes never left hers. "And, as Empress, you'll need a good assassin. You know I'm the best."

"You're a quick study, Arta Fera. Perhaps a dangerous one. "

"We share similar opinions of one another. Before I came along, you had your plans laid. Where does Fist fit into all this?"

"He destroys Sassa and the Companions. He becomes my Emperor and enforcer."

"A little young, isn't he?"

"All the better. I can train him the way I want. What's your price?"

"Freedom." Arta closed her eyes. "I want your protection, an open expense account, and a small fast ship with a female crew. Nothing more. I don't have any aspirations for your position. I was born and bred for assassination and excitement. "

Ily made a decision and stepped to the rear of the room where she ran quick fingers over a gold design. The wall opened. "I guess you're going to escape instead of being

tried for assassination. Up there. Follow the steps. You'll come out in my quarters."

"And the guards outside the door?" Arta asked as she entered the narrow way.

"Don't worry. You killed them during your escape. Stay in my room. Your picture will be all over Rega within an hour. I'll get you up to my ship later." Closing the portal behind the woman, Ily smiled and laughed. Then she pulled the jessant-de-lis from her pouch.

She walked over to look into Tybalt's wide dead eyes. "And you thought you could kill me with this? Oh, you stupid fool. I disconnected the detonator the day you insisted on brandishing that silly switch around. Now we'll see who can handle Ily Takka."

She stepped to the wall comm. Her second in command's face formed on the viewer. "Gysell, the Emperor has been murdered! You will place an arrest warrant out for the Seddi assassin, Arta Fera. Institute immediate social control, the military is to be placed on alert. I want crowd control and a news blackout. The Rath family is to be cordoned off — for their protection, you see. I am declaring a State of Emergency."

Gysell's eyes widened. "My God! Do we have the authority?"

She held up the jessant-de-lis, the jaguar's head gleaming in the light.

"I understand," Gysell gulped.

"You will immediately have our agents round up the Councillors. I am placing them all under arrest. All official correspondence will be routed through my office from here on out."

"That's…" Gysell's face went ashen.

"Come, Gysell, you were handpicked for the job of Imperial Secretary. I could find another." She arched an eyebrow.

He studied her for a moment, color coming back into his face. "That won't be necessary, Ily. I'll see to crushing any rebellion. What are the charges against the Councillors?"

"Corruption." She cut the monitor and poured another glass of sherry. Facing Tybalt's body, she raised the glass. "To the future Lord Emperor!"