Free Redemption of Light (The Light Trilogy) by Kathleen M. O'Neal Page A

up, the engraving glimmering: To my best friend. For never openly declaring mutiny. Love, Cole. An ache of longing for her welled deep inside Cole. He hastily finished his whiskey.
    “The trip to Shyr lasts a month minimum,” Jeremiel explained coolly. “Once we load the Horebian refugees and make vault, Rudy and Merle can handle the final elements of off-loading people, setting up villages, bringing in the remaining supplies: seeds, farm equipment, more stock—”
    “I get your point.” Cole fiddled anxiously with his empty glass, shoving it back and forth across the black table top. So Jeremiel had been clandestinely planning on rescuing Carey all along—good. They had a better chance if the two of them went together. But if the fleet lost both of them…. “Would it do any good for me to remind you that you’re too valuable to risk and you should obviously let me go alone?”
    “No.” Baruch leaned back in his chair.
    “Let’s talk seriously. I know Palaia Station better than you do. I’ve been there several times. You’ve never been there.”
    “Irrelevant. It’s a two person job. Neither of us can do it alone.”
    Cole draped an arm over the back of his chair and briskly massaged the muscles at the back of his neck which had already tied themselves in knots of anticipation. “All right, I’m with you. Let’s discuss this brilliant sabotage mission I’m supposed to pull off before we go after Carey. Any more word on how Mikael and Sybil are doing on Horeb? The old Gamants on Kiskanu said they’d heard that Ornias had ordered all the children under seven rounded up because he feared some rumor about the coming of the Mashiah. They said it was the final sign. Do you know what that means?”
    Baruch reflectively smoothed his fingers over his reddish beard. “Yes. It’s a very old prophecy. …”
    Two hours later, Jeremiel watched his door slip closed behind Cole’s broad back. He slowly walked to the table to refill his glass. He picked up the bottle of rye, then set it down again and went to the drink dispenser on the wall. He keyed in for a strong cup of taza. As he reached for the cup, his hand shook. He gripped it in both hands and watched the steam rise in a fragrant veil to curl around his face.
    Even if he and Cole both survived the Horeb battle, neither of them had any idea how to break through Palaia’s defense net. The space station was shielded by an infinite series of electromagnetic shells. For over twenty-five years, Jeremiel had been trying to crack the puzzle of Palaia. Doing it now would take a miracle.
    But it didn’t matter.
    He had to find out if Carey was alive.
    He sipped his taza and fought the ache that constricted his chest like the icy hand of God.

CHAPTER 6
     
    The Governor’s Palace On Horeb
    Governor Ornias and his new Minister of Defense, Fenris Midgard, briskly walked the long atrium that connected the palace with the Detainment Center. Windows lined both sides of the hallway. Beyond them, misty rain fell in silver veils over the ridges that surrounded the palace like a fortress, changing them from ruby red to a deep dark purple. He despised this filthy wasteland. If the Magistrates weren’t paying him five billion notes a year to govern it, he’d be somewhere far away. Somewhere decent.
    They turned a corner and Ornias caught his reflection in the glass. He looked himself up and down and smiled admiringly. A tall man with sandy hair and lime green eyes, his elaborately braided beard accentuated the perfect oval of his face. His gold silk robe glimmered like flame in the murky light. Let those other Magisterial fools don hideous uniforms, he preferred the sensuous luxury of satins, silks, and velvets.
    “Governor,” Fenris said as he restlessly balled his fists and tucked them into the pockets of his purple uniform. A short, thin man, he had graying brown hair and a nose as long and thin as a spear point. “I know Magistrate Slothen’s demand that we find