Treasure of Light (The Light Trilogy) by Kathleen O’Neal Read Free Book Online

stung like salt in a gaping wound. Dannon pushed Farin an arm’s length away. A good fistfight might be just what he needed. Maybe it would ease the ache caused by the bitter indictments hurled from the darkness of his soul.
    “Jealous, Delio?” he asked, smiling. “Because she has better taste than to cast her pearls at the feet of a swine like you?”
    The little man’s jaw shook with rage. He clutched his glass so hard his fingernails went white. “ Me a swine? Do you know what this ship is doing right this very instant, Dannon? Or have you been too drunk since Kayan to know anything?”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “Tahn just headed for Transportation to pick up your friend Baruch. Once we’ve got him, we’re scorching Horeb. It’s a level one attack. The entire middle section of the planet’s going to get wasted. This is definitely Baruch’s last stand. You tried to betray him on Silmar and got a hell of a lot of his people killed, even though he escaped. How does that make you feel? Another Gamant named Ornias finally finished your work for you. We’re going to deliver your friend to the nearest neurophysiology center and have his brain probed until he’s nothing but a vegetable.”
    Neil paled. Jeremiel… on board? How had he missed such talk? Surely the crew had been discussing it everywhere. But then, no one would have seen fit to whisper it to him so he could prepare himself.
    Farin shouted, “What do you care, Delio? Baruch’s been your enemy since the day you stepped out of Academy! You sound like you want to hold a wake in his honor!”
    Some of the anger faded from Delio’s face. He frowned down into his drink. “Anybody who’s fought against Baruch respects him—that doesn’t mean I like him. I hate his filthy Gamant guts.”
    From the corner of his eye, Neil saw Doctor Iona stride into the lounge with two security guards. The white in his hair glimmered in the lamplight. His gaze darted anxiously around the room, then, spotting Neil, he trotted forward.
    “Dannon, move. Tahn wants you in Transportation, now.”
    He eyed the security staff, one red-haired, one black-haired. Both with hard faces. “What for?”
    “Baruch will be here any minute. Tahn wants you to give the positive ID.”
    “What?”
    Iona waved him toward the door. “Come on. You haven’t got much time. Baruch should just about be here.”
    In a staggering moment of lucidity, memories burst wide in Neil’s mind. His thoughts riveted on strategy sessions held over a few cool amber ales, just he, Jeremiel, and Rudy Kopal.
    “Oh … God.”
    Terror welled. No, it couldn’t be. Operation Abba? Seven years ago, they’d been stretched out on the lush dry grasses of Lysomia VI, drinking ale, watching the towering clouds, bantering strategy. Insane strategy — things to be tried only when they were already dead men, trapped, and no other path lay open to them. An autumn-scented wind blew up the canyon, dry and brittle, rustling in the maple forests. A few crimson leaves spiraled from the limbs to cartwheel across the meadow.
    Jeremiel had contemplatively brushed his fingers over the dry grass, his blond hair shimmering a reddish gold in the slanting rays of afternoon light. His deep voice rang like thunder in Neil’s ears. “No, six would be too many. If you’re going to take a cruiser, it’ll have to be a small strike force. Maybe three or four. They’ll have no more than forty-five seconds total to …”
    Neil threw his glass to the floor and ran for the exit. Behind him, he heard Iona shout, “Guards! Stop him! I don’t care if you have to physically drag him, get him to transportation!”
    Neil almost made it to the door before two men tackled him and knocked him to the floor. He rolled, punching, kicking, struggling to get away. One of the security men slammed a hard fist into his solar plexus and Neil gasped, unable to catch his breath.
    “You … fools!” he croaked. “You stupid… stupid fools!