Part 6 (1/2)

Califa shook her head, wis.h.i.+ng she'd never begun, never drawn such attention to herself, an unwise action for a slave. Yet the others were chiming in with Rina, urging her to begin again. Even Hurcon grudgingly admitted she ”had a decent voice,” and waved at her to go on.

To refuse now, Califa realized ruefully, would bring even more attention down on her. She wasn't being treated as a prisoner, yet she knew that could change easily if she angered them. And she found that she was enjoying this tiny taste of freedom far too much to risk losing it. So she sang.

She had learned the song long ago, from a Clarion s.h.i.+pworker who had visited her mother. He had been one of the few ”visitors” her mother had had that had ever paid any attention to the child who lived in the same dwelling. He had been very kind, Califa had thought then, never realizing until later that his kindness had no doubt been merely pity. But he had taught her this song and others, and had praised her voice in words she remembered to this day. And six-year-old Califa had wished mightily that this gentle man were her father.

She sang it for him now, the notes high and sweet and clear. In her voice, the song behaved as it was meant to; it soared, it danced and sparkled like crystal dust caught in a feather of a breeze.

When the last note died away, the crew broke into a boisterous round of applause and cheering. Califa blushed, pleased. But her color faded when she realized there was one among them, a latecomer standing near the door, who wasn't applauding, but was studying her intently, as a pilot studied an instrument that gave an unexpected reading.

Dax.

She didn't know when he'd come in. She'd been too intent on the music, and remembering the longforgotten pleasure of letting her voice run free. She lowered her eyes, not looking at him, yet she was still aware of his every movement. He crossed the room slowly, nodding a greeting to all. The noise level in the room rose once more as conversation resumed. But not, Califa noticed thankfully, the singing. Perhaps the leader didn't approve of such frivolity, she thought.

”Please,” Rina whispered, ”don't tell him we were talking about him.”

It took a moment for Califa to remember the girl's urgent plea. She gave her a rea.s.suring nod, and the girl breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to her food.

Dax poured a cup of the strong, thick, Arellian coffee that Califa had been delighted to find on the table. It was a rare commodity these days; too many of the growers who had once specialized in producing the pods that made the reviving brew had become traitors, refusing to aid the Coalition.

At least, that had been the version Califa had heard; Larcos's this morning had differed. The growers were now laboring in Coalition camps, he'd said, or reduced to trying to grow enough food for what survived of their families after the Coalition slaughter and scorching of the landscape.

Califa felt a pang for her home world. Perhaps she should have asked for a posting there, when she'd been taken off active duty. Then none of this would have happened. She would still be free, a n.o.bly injured Coalition officer retired with honor. She would never have taken the wolf into the fold, and Shaylah would never have Stop it! she ordered herself. But it was getting harder to keep her old s.h.i.+pmate from her thoughts, as she'd sworn to do. But she'd made that oath before she'd been collared, back when she'd been smugly sure she knew what treason was. Now, she wasn't sure of much of anything anymore. Except that she had more than fulfilled any obligation she'd had ever had to Shaylah Graymist. And that the decision to do so had cost her, in essence, her life.

A life given for a live saved, she repeated silently. It balanced the scales. Even if Shaylah had long considered them balanced, Califa hadn't. When they had served together on theBrightstar, Califa had merely observed the overload on a weaponry circuit, shouted a warning in time for Shaylah to get clear, and helped her escape after the ensuing explosion. On Darvis II, Shaylah had risked her life to come back for her trapped comrade, disobeying a direct order from the team leader not to go back into the blazing ordnance bunker. Although Shaylah had then called them evenfor Califa's sake, she had said, since she felt such things needless between friendsCalifa had never felt it so. Until now. The hardest part was, deep in her soul, she knew Shaylah would not think them even. She would never trade her own life for a friend's life spent in torment and torture. It was a quality of mercy Califa had ridiculed in her friend before; now she wished she had treasured it.

She heard a laugh, deep, resonant, and flagrantly masculine. She didn't need to look to know who it had come from, but she did nevertheless.

Dax didn't look as if he felt much like laughing. He looked weary, his face drawn, his eyes darkcircled, as if he'd had no more of a restful night than she. But if he was as tired as he looked, he wasn't letting it affect his crew.

”sector scan an hour ago, and still no sign of anyone on our tail,” Larcos told him.

Dax nodded. ”Good. We'll proceed as planned, then. Four nights from tonight.”

A cheer went up, including from Rina. Dax grinned at her. ”You'll have the coordinates and the course laid out by morning, navigator?”

Rina gave him a look that could only be described as smug. ”It's been done for hours.”

Dax lifted his cup of the Arellian brew to her in salute. Rina flipped a rockfowl bone at him; he dodged it, laughing. When the room had settled down once more, Califa looked at the young blonde quizzically.

”We're going to Boreas,” she said in answer to the look.

”Boreas?” Califa's brow furrowed. ”Why? What isn't ice year-round is impa.s.sable mountains and poisonous seas. There's nothing there but the crystal mines.”

Rina nodded, unconcerned. ”And a big Coalition Outpost.”

”A heavily armed Coalition Outpost.” This was no secret, everyone knew that the crystal mines were fiercely guarded except in the winter months, when it was impossible for anyone to get through. Only the minimum contingent of troops remained there then.

”Of course. They have a huge supply annex, for those who are stuck there through the winter. That means guards.”

”Of course,” Califa echoed, an odd tightness knotting her stomach. ”So what in Hades is the skypirate wanted all over the system going there for?”

Rina grinned. ”Simple. He's going shopping.”

Chapter 5.

He was crazy. That was the only answer. He was off his axis, he was Jackaled, he had slipped his...o...b..t. No one who wasn't would even conceive of attacking one of the best armed of Coalition outposts, let alone with just a light cruiser and crew of twenty. No one who wasn't would fly all that distance just to commit suicide. No one who wasn't could get what seemed like sane men to go with him.

No one except maybe a legend.

She rose and paced the floor of Rina's quarters again. It had been three cycles of the s.h.i.+p's days since Rina had casually dropped her news. Califa didn't know what planet the s.h.i.+p's chronometer had been set to, but she a.s.sumed it was Clarion, where it had been made. But perhaps not; Clarion seemed too small for twelve-hour breaks of dark and light. Not that it made any difference. No matter what the schedule, they were marching closer and closer to disaster.

Califa tried to tell herself that you didn't build a reputation like Dax's by being conservative. It would take daring, boldness, even recklessness. But there was a line between recklessness and carelessness, between boldness and foolishness, between daring and stupidity.

But Dax was not stupid. She had seen too much bright, agile intelligence in those green eyes to think that. So why would he risk a raid doomed to failure? If he was so concerned about his crew's safety, why risk them on a suicide mission? Was his hatred of the Coalition truly so great? She knew the crew loathed the Coalition with a pa.s.sion she'd rarely seen. While Dax was the force that bound them together, was this the unseen criteria of his choices? Was this the one thing, the one common trait in the crew that seemed so different, so varied? It seemed each of them had a personal grudge, some reason for vengeance against the power that ruled the system with an iron hand.

And having heard their stories, she wasn't sure she could blame them. It was painful, beyond painful, to face the dark, evil side of the calling she'd devoted her life to, but if the tales she'd heard in prison, if the accounts of the crew members were not enough proof, she had only to touch her throat and the cool metal band that proclaimed her slave to the system in which she had once held a place of honor The whoosh of the door brought her pacing to a halt. Rina came in, her color high, her displeasure clear in her quick, jerky strides. Now it was she who paced the small floor s.p.a.ce of her quarters, made smaller by the cot Califa was sleeping on.

”He thinks I'm still a child. He treats me like a child. Sometimes I think he wants me to just stay a child forever!”

Califa had no doubt who the girl was talking about.It's been a long time since you were a child, Rina, though you should still be. Dax's words, the memory of his eyes, shadowed with pain, came back to hersharply.

”Perhaps he just wants you to have the chance tobe a child again, Rina.”

”Being a child is a waste,” the girl snapped as she spun and strode back across the room. ”Being a child means you're too young, too small, and too silly to know what you want.”

She whirled and started back again. ”It means everyone else thinks they know what's best for you. It means they don't care if you're perfectly happy where you are, they have to take you away, so you can be treated like a child.”

Rina's vehemence would have been amusing, if Califa had not also remembered the girl's answer to Dax, that time.If you hadn't rescued me...

”Is that what Dax did, Rina? Took you away from someplace where you were perfectly happy?”

The girl stopped midstride, her back to Califa. It was a moment before she spoke, and her words were oddly m.u.f.fled. ”I was doing all right.”

”Were you?”

Rina turned then, and Califa was shocked to see tears streaming down her face. ”Eos, sometimes I hate myself,” the girl choked out. ”I say these awful, wicked things, and I don't mean them, I even know I don't mean them when I say them, but I can't seem to stop them!”

Moved by a feeling she didn't understand, something all tangled up with her recognition of a child so much like she herself had been and the wish that someone who understood had been there for her, Califa raised her arms and opened them. Rina ran to her, throwing her arms around her, sobbing.

It was very strange, Califa thought. No one had ever turned to her for comfort. For cool-headed advice, for professional a.s.sessment of a tactical situation, yes. But never comfort. Not even Shaylah, when she had been clearly tormented in those last days, had had faith enough to trust her supposed friend to comfort her.

And had Shaylah been wrong? Califa wondered as she patted the girl's shoulders as the wrenching sobs continued. The woman she had been then would not have been at ease with such emotions, even from Shaylah. Perhaps especially from Shaylah. She certainly would not have welcomed a weeping child into her arms, nor would she ever have feltor at least admitted tothis odd sense of fulfillment that someone had come to her like this.

”II d-didn't mean it,” Rina stammered out again.

”Sshh,” Califa soothed. ”I know.”