"A unilaterally enforced myth," Staffa returned, a bitter note in his voice. "A flawed epistemology. An illusion like the rest of—"
"But one strong enough to prevail in this instance."
"That is always the tragedy of it," Staffa agreed.
"If you abhor it so, why did you fight? Why did you plunge Targa into a meaningless revolt? How can you talk about justice when you incited your own people to butchery? I can't believe you! You talk about flawed epistemology? I hope your soul chokes eternally on its own hypocrisy."
Staffa caught himself nodding at the dark monitor. "I didn't start the conflagration on Targa. And even if I told you why it happened, you'd never believe it. The Seddi believe the quanta are God's joke on the universe. The ultimate irony. Perhaps it's true. I haven't found my atonement yet, Sinklar. Nevertheless, fight for the Seddi — not so much for their lives as for what they can offer humanity."
"Indeed? So much sacrifice for gifts of assassination, intrigue, murder, and revolt? Spare me your misguided-"
"Hope," Staffa corrected. "Possibly a way out of the trap of the Forbidden Borders. Perhaps a way back to Earth and-"
"Another myth."
"No, not a myth. A dream," Staffa countered. "A goal for all humanity. That's what we don't have now. Where are we going, Sinklar? When you leave here, I will be dead and buried. You in turn will fall upon the Sassans and, to be honest-you'll win. You might even perform a miracle and take the Companions. But what then? Where does it end? You will destroy humanity in your conquests. The dreams will be no more than radioactive dust. Cracked shiny slag on broken worlds enclosed in poisoned atmospheres. A bright and beckoning future, don't you think?"
11 This conversation is pointless, Star Butcher." He sounded weary. "Your last hope is to walk out of there, lay down your arms. Isn't that a source of hope?"
Staffa laughed. "In Ily's hands? Are you serious? Tell me, how much do you know about her? Rotted Gods, you don't trust her, do you?"
"And I should trust a Seddi conspirator? Don't talk to me about trust. Your Seddi led my parents to their deaths. Left me an orphan of the state. I've seen too much Seddi evil. I just didn't know it would cost me so much to kill you all off.
I'll let you save Mac and your people. Let us walk out. Give us a head start and you can drop in and pull MacRuder out. "
Staffa laughed. "No, Sinklar, no matter what you think, the victory is mine. I had no more than two hundred and fifty men and women-some trained, most simple scholars. I took six hundred of your finest along with the others we've blown up, crushed, burned, and shot."
"He who controls is the final victor. Power, as I said, is the ultimate reality. I would have liked to tackle you and your Companions, Star Butcher. It would have been a true test. Here, we were unevenly matched."
"Yes. We were."
"Farewell, Staffa kar Therma. I only wish I could have looked into your eyes."
The comm went dead. Staffa stepped back and seated himself on one of the wooden chairs by the heavy table with its litter of maps. He stared sightlessly
at the forbidding stone walls, lost in his own head.
"Did you mean all that?" Bruen asked. Staffa turned. "I didn't hear you come in.
Bruen stood in the doorway, one thin arm braced on the molding. The bruise on his forehead looked ghastly. He wore a spotless white robe. The tired old man settled himself on a rough-hewn bench and exhaled thinly in the cool air. "I don't make much noise these days. I am glad you feel that way-about the ideas, I mean."
Staffa raised his hands and lifted a shoulder. "Reality is an artificially created norm. We're insensitive to the quanta at our level of consciousness. We perceive only the trends. It took Kaylla to point the direction… and much thought to fully comprehend the chimera of reality."
"The quanta, and God, are the only reality," Bruen assented with a faint nod of his purple-bruised head.
For long moments they sat, lost in thought. Most of the comm monitors had gone dead-permanently now. The others fuzzed with snow, waiting for the circuits to close.
"I sealed off the Mag Comm," Staffa stated. "It is better buried than in the hands of the Regans. Now it appears nothing more than a foolish action. If Fist is correct-not bluffing-we're to be bombed into pulp by Rysta's fleet. Ily's behind that, no doubt."
"What about the tunnel? The one you've been boring out from the lower levels. Is there any hope?" Bruen's eyes flickered for a moment. "Perhaps a few could make it out? Make their way to. "
Staffa smiled wistfully. "We can't hide from the eyes in space, but, yes, we'll try." He laughed sourly. "Perhaps the quanta will pick that moment to change wave functions? Cause a glitch in the perception of normality? Blind our enemy?"
"It is a chance. We don't have many straws to grasp. and observation does change reality."
MacRuder shifted his back where the uneven stone ate through his unhardened armor. He and the rest sat in pitch blackness, robbed of sight. There was a faint grating sound from above as the rock in the roof shifted — and Mac could sense everyone tensing. How long since the last Mast had rumbled through the black cavern? Rock had dropped. Two of his people had been badly hurt by the roof fall. He glanced at the atmosphere monitor on his wrist. Oxygen was going fast. Not much time left. Already his lungs were pulling with a noticeable deepness. A sensation of lightheadedness lessened the dryness in his mouth. He flicked on his IR for a brief instant to see the empty faces filled with despair before shutting the visor off, saving the batteries and his tortured conscience — plunging himself into blackness again.
Sink? Where are you? What's happening out there?
How long since the fighting had stopped? How long since the last tremor had shaken their unstable warren? What the hell did it mean? Had the Seddi been destroyed? Was Sink even now trying to find them? Blinking dully in the blackness, he eaned his head back and shivered from the chill creeping out of the rock and eating through his armor, sucking at his life.
"Mac?" a hoarse voice called. "The comm line is active. The Seddi want you."
MacRuder plugged into the line he'd had run to his perch in the rock. "Yes."
"This is the Lord Commander, Staffa kar Therma, MacRuder."
Damn that calm voice! So that's who we've been ghting? "So?"
"So I just talked to your Sinklar Fist. It seems Ily Takka identified me. They believe my death is more important than your salvation. Fist has been ordered to pull back and Rysta's fleet is going to pound us from orbit in a few hours."
Mac shuddered at the certainty in Staffa's voice. His face contorting with despair, MacRuder managed numbly, "A few hours?" The hotness behind his eyes welled into tears. "Oh, Sinklar," he whispered, heedlessly, "don't let us die in here! Not in the darkness."
"I'm sorry," the firm voice continued. "I would… I
would save you if I could. We have a tunnel running within five meters of your cavern. We might be able to blow it."
"Then what?"
"That's up to you. Would you come out unarmed?"
Mac bit his lip to forestall tears of frustration. The total blackness around
him closed in, deepening the bone-grip ping despair.
"How do we know it's not a fake? That you're not trying to pull a fast one?"
The calm voice asked, "I give you my word — just like I understand from the Seddi that Sinklar gave his word to Butla Ret."
Mac's guts turned runny. To comm he mumbled miserably. "We. Yes. Yes."
"You'll hear our tapping. That's where the charge will be placed. Clear your people away from the area."
Sinklar paced with the relentless persistence of a condemned man as he stalked the vacant engineering office. The holo in the center of the room mocked him with its colorful display of Makarta. Around the walls, the computer monitors stared at him like blind eyes.