He nodded and staggered off to one of the little cells down the hallway. He entered the alcove and collapsed on the hard pallet.
Sinklar blinked, trying to rid his eyes of the gravelly feel. His mouth tasted stale. A numbness of the soul battled with the fatigue in his mind and body. Every muscle ached. Despite his exhaustion, fear crept through his very veins as he stared at the comm monitor in the command center in his LC. Stacks of flimsies covered the little fold-down table behind him. The monitors surrounding him displayed the diagrams of Makarta. Sinklar thought he knew the place by heart.
"We're inside," Kitmon reported through the comm. "We backtracked, fooled one of their, listening posts. Anyhow, this time we killed them before they could blow the roof. We're there, Sink! It's only a matter of time now!"
"Be careful," Sinklar warned, his gut churning.
"Yeah, my net tells me they know we're in. My people are drawing fire. This time it's for real," Kitmon sounded ecstatic.
Skyla smiled at him, her face almost shimmery with beauty. He reached for
her, drew her near, entwined her in his arms as he hugged her close. Her body pressed warm and firm against him, her breasts full on his chest. He pulled back, staring into eyes as blue as an Ashtan sky.
"Staffa!" Kaylla called to him, changing Skyla's eyes from cerulean blue to tan, Skyla's classic features blending into the Maikan woman's high-cheekboned severity.
"Staffa!" Kaylla insisted. "Wake up, damn it! They've broken through! "
His eyes came open to a dim gray room with rock walls and cumbersome wooden furniture. He blinked, forcing himself to sit up. "Where?"
"Level Two, just back of the distillery." Kaylla stared at him, face bleak, lips pursed.
"Withdraw everyone from Levels One and Two. Shoot the mines under the Novice quarters. What happened to our team in there?"
"We don't know. They were trying to set up the tunneling there. Something must have gone wrong. The Regans caught them. Someone didn't get to the switch. I don't know."
He pulled her close, seeing defeat in her eyes. "We still have the renegade hole. Maybe, somehow, that will work." She looked up at him, tan eyes filmed with tears. "Yes," she mumbled, voice unsteady. "Maybe it will."
He left her, running for the upper levels, hearing a cacophony of explosions. His body roused to the old battlesharpness. People rushed frantically through the hallways,
faces grim, the despair of defeat in their eyes. Staffa charged up the steps, taking them three at a time. He rounded the corner into the main hallway on Level Two. The sounds of combat filled the air.
The ubiquitous Wilm was crouched behind a sharp spur of rock, blaster ready, covering the Novice quarters. "What happened?" Staffa asked as he threw himself down and crawled forward.
"Broke through. They're still organizing. Damn, there's a lot of them!" Wilm shook his head, white dust incongruous on his black skin. "Got me as to how they managed it."
"Are our people out of the upper level?"
"Yeah, they skedaddled down our first trap tunnel." "Shoot the mines."
"But what about all of our equipment? We'll lose half our counterstrike ability!"
"Wilm, we can't get it back!" Staffa gritted. "Why leave it for Sinklar Fist to use against us? Evacuate to Level Three and blow it!"
Wilm let out a series of curses and jerked his head in a nod. He fired a string of shots into the darkness beyond, waving his people back. Blaster bolts strobed the air in actinic violet as Initiates and partially armored Seddi retreated. Staffa recognized the redhead from the sally tunnel a half-second before a blaster bolt caught her in the hips. The blast tossed her torso in one direction, her legs in another.
"Go," Staffa motioned to Wilm. "Get to the switch. I'll cover. "
The Master gave Staffa a hard look, biting his lip. "No, Lord Commander. You stay out of the way. You're more important than I am. I'll cover and you flip the switch. Just blow these damn Regans apart."
The rock behind which they crouched shuddered and snapped, sharp fragments spattering around while dust filtered down with a brimstone odor.
Staffa slapped Wilm on the back and ran. Fear iced his veins. He found the jury-rigged switch, waiting as men and women pelted by, some wounded, others burned. Wilm came running, nodding as he passed.
Staffa pushed the switch. Concussion slammed the floor.
Somewhere behind him rock fell. The very mountain shook as tons of stone tore loose. This time, there could be no escape. Not as they were pushed further and further into the bowels ofTarga.
Sinklar had shoved himself into the corner of the acceleration couch in the LC's command module. He continued to glare at the comm display across from
him. A dull ache throbbed behind his eyes. The weightless sensation of falling hovered at the edges of his senses. Periodically his vision blurred and he'd jerk upright as his head bobbed with fatigue.
"I wish you'd get some sleep, sir," Mhitshul told him. "Soon as we get Mac out."
He could see Mayz start in the bright sunlight and look up at the comm pickup where she monitored the latest sally. Then the LC shook while a muffled rumble rolled across the land.
"Sink?" Mayz called.
"Here. What the pus was that?"
"They've blown half the mountain down. It's crazy. They could have killed everyone." Mayz shook her head, dark features tense and worried.
"What do the engineers say?" Sinklar rasped hoarsely. His heart dropped like a sodden weight. Mac? Damn it! Mayz filled her lungs and shrugged. "It's all loose in
there. No way to excavate it without strip mining the mountain.'
"We don't have that kind of time. What do the seismic people say about Mac's position? Did they survive?" His heart stopped dead in his chest as a terrible dread sucked at his soul.
"They report the cavem is still intact down there." Mayz looked relieved.
"Thanks for the update. Continue tunneling from the other side." More dead. Another Section gone. Sinklar hung his head, physically ill.
Mayz turned back to her duties.
Mhitshul disappeared through the hatch, eyes averted. Sink filled his lungs and rubbed his face with a tired hand.
What if he agreed? He could let the Seddi go. Get it over with instead of bleeding his force down to dregs. Was Mac's life worth it? Or Mayz's, or Shik's? All he had to do was.
A light flashed as one of the monitors lit with the features of Rysta Braktov.
"Sinklar Fist?" No honorific, this didn't bode well, but somehow, he couldn't bolster the energy to care. "I have just had confirmation from Rega. We have an ID on your mysterious 'Tuff.' Her smile cut like a scythe. "Your antagonist down there is the Lord Commander of the Companions. Staffa kar Therma."
Sinklar straightened, blinking and shaking his head. Had he heard right? "Staffa kar Therma? The Star Butcher?"
Rysta crossed her arms. "The very same."
"Holy Rotted Gods!" Sinklar smacked a fist against his knee. "If I'd only known!" He immediately began to recall the Lord Commander's strategies, the devious and intricate ways he'd smashed defenses just as impregnable as Makarta Mountain. The key lay just beyond his grasp, but it would come to him now.
"But you didn't." Rysta's eye narrowed to a squint. She didn't look pleased. "Nor did I. His presence here is a mystery. and it appears it will continue to be."
"Why?"
Rysta hesitated and gave him a sour look. "Because you are to evacuate Makarta in preparation for orbital gravitational flux bombardment."
"Impossible!" Sinklar shot to his feet, glaring at the monitor. "I've got six hundred people inside that mountain!"
He could see Mhitshul leaning in the hatch, eyes wide. The LC had gone deathly silent.