The Price of Conquest

As the sharp hiss of the two assassins' rifles faded and the shriek of pulse guns commenced, Richard Shaw became aware of four distinct things: Bryant had purposefully distracted one of the assassins, a tremendous burst of psychic energy had exploded from the three minds that touched his, Emre had moved between himself and the spot where the truck appeared, and he was alive and unharmed.

But Emre was clutching at him desperately, struggling to remain on her feet, her eyes wide with shock. Instantly, Shaw realized the price of his well being.

No…

With a muffled cry, he pulled Emre close, and felt the once strong body quiver in his grasp. He stared down at her stunning features, perfect save for the pale lips, the pain-clouded pewter eyes.

No! She was not hurt. She couldn't be! There was no sign of a wound on what he could see of her beautiful body; she should not be feeling such pain. But even as he wished it, his hands felt the rough edges of charred cloth in the middle of her back where she had stopped the laser bolt meant for him.

I am sorry it should end this way, Richard, Emre's weak, tremulous voice sounded inside his head, and her eyes gazed deep into his. But you are alive, Richard. I— We saved you. Now you must—

"No." He collapsed to his knees and cradled her tenderly as the guns flared around them. "No, this is not the end. You will not die. Do you hear me, Emre? You will not die!"

A gentle smile touched her lips. "At least I have seen you again," she whispered, and the voice in Shaw's head echoed her words. She reached up to stroke his face with a trembling hand. "And the children have had a chance to know you. I love you, Richard." She shuddered, and her arm dropped to her side.

I love you, she said again in his mind. You were the only one who made me feel truly happy. I lived my entire life in the time I spent with you…

Her voice faded from his awareness, and he felt only emotions as Emre fed into his mind all of the things she had felt or seen or experienced in their time apart. She showed him everything, from their last moments together onboard the Esprit, through her return to Marasyn and what she learned there, her encounters and relationships on Arecia, her eventual decision to stow away to Calton, and finally, their daughters' detection of the intent of the rifleman in the truck, and Emre's determination that it would be her to die, not Richard, never Richard. Then the gathering of energies, the lance of power projected at the rifleman, postponing his shot for the instant it took Emre to move into place as a shield.

Through her memories, Shaw experienced Emre's wonder at bearing the first human-th'Maran children; learned why they were so special; shared the pleasure of feeling them grow inside her, getting to know them as individual consciousnesses, knowing that so long as they were near, Richard was never far away. So much she had felt, so much she had experienced…

But, Shaw realized, there was not one scrap of intelligence about Emre's Confederate acquaintances, those who had kept her well and safe and as happy as they could while she was away from him.

He felt not the slightest bit of resentment at the apparent holding back. This was not part of the conflict.

The stream of memories slowed after what seemed a long while, but far too soon for Shaw. Only three small lights remained. They flickered like candle flames in his mind, bonding him to Emre and their children.

He clutched at the tiny fires and strained to steady their glow, willing them to grow brighter. But, one by one, the flames faded, the candles fluttered away to darkness, and he was alone.

* * *

Kressa awoke to a throbbing pain in the side of her head and the silence of surrounding death. She sat up slowly and peered around. Beside her, the body of the driver lay sprawled in a motionless heap, his laser rifle clutched in dead hands, his features torn away by the same shot that had taken his life.

Other bodies lay scattered across the field and four rested lifelessly in the truck where it had drawn to a halt near the first Patrol car.

A lone Patrol commander stood several meters in front of the main building. Kressa recognized the copper-haired man as one of the soldiers from the car that brought Emre. Beyond him, in the open doorway of the building, several pairs of eyes watched unsurely. The commander shook his head and waved them back, and then he looked down.

At his feet, Shaw knelt on the ground, silent, his silver-gray head bowed over Emre's limp form.

Kressa gasped and sent a questioning tendril of mental energy in the th'Maran's direction, but there was no response.

Emre. The children.

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Tears rose in Kressa's eyes, and she scrambled to her feet.

"No…" She did little more than breathe the word, but in the silence that hung over the field, her single anguished syllable seemed as loud as a gunshot.

The Patrol commander glanced toward her, his features tight.

Reminded of the extent of her peril, Kressa closed her eyes and gathered all of her pain and all of her sorrow at Emre's death. She pushed it far back in her mind and barred it behind a strong mental shield. When she opened her eyes, the commander was looking down at Shaw.

Slowly, the governor raised his head and gazed out across the field. Kressa flinched as the same dark eyes she saw every time she looked in a mirror studied her across the distance. She met the uncanny stare, held by the power and sorrow within it.

Shaw spoke to the commander without taking his eyes from Kressa, then he looked down at Emre's still form.

The commander hesitated for a moment, and then he turned and started walking toward Kressa.

She tensed as he drew near, preparing to bolt, and then forced herself to relax. Where could she run? And how far could she expect to get? She waited and kept a calm expression as he approached.

His own expression remained steady, his gray-green eyes locked on hers.

She stepped toward him, unwilling to postpone the inevitable. The commander stopped beside her and gently took her arm in his hand.

"You're to come with me, Miss Bryant," he said in a decidedly uncommanding tone.

She obeyed without protest and allowed him to lead her to where Shaw knelt with Emre's body. As they halted before him, Shaw looked slowly upward.

His face looked calm, but something smoldered dangerously in his dark eyes.

"Release her," he said, and then bent close over Emre. He gathered her body carefully into his arms and rose to his feet.

The Patrol commander took a soni-key from his pocket, stepped behind Kressa, and removed the cuffs.

She flexed her stiff shoulders and rubbed her arms to help return full circulation. She used the time to weigh the odds against her, but her thoughts of escape lasted only a moment. If Shaw thought she had even the slightest chance of getting away, he would not have had the cuffs removed. And yet…

She looked at her father.

He stood in front of her, Emre's body cradled in his arms. He gazed at the th'Maran's head resting against his shoulder, eyes closed, her features relaxed and peaceful, as if she were only deeply asleep. Her long hair hung over his arm in a fall of molten silver. He stared at the pale, serene face for another moment, and then passed the body carefully to the commander.

"Take her inside, please, Maeller," Shaw said quietly. "See to it that things are under control. I'll be there shortly."

The man nodded and moved away.

Shaw turned and brought up a hand as if to call him back, but then he stopped, and his hand dropped heavily to his side. He watched the commander disappear into the building with Emre's body.

Kressa waited, unsure. Around her, blue-black evening faded to gray-black night, the darkness relieved only by the beacons scattered across the landing field behind her and the bright lights that illuminated the fronts of the buildings. Still, Shaw did not turn to her.

She took a hesitant step backward. Did he want her to run? Was he waiting for her to try something? He couldn't honestly expect her to just stand there and wait. She started to turn away.

"Tara."

Kressa froze, and an intense chill clutched at her innards. It tightened her shoulders and neck, and sent a shiver down her spine. Although she could not consciously recall it, she knew she had heard that voice say that name in that same gentle tone, so long ago…

She swallowed hard and stared at the back of the man before her. "Sir?"

"Why did you do it?"

Do what? she wondered. To which of a hundred different things was he referring?

"I… don't understand, sir. What… ?" She paused as Shaw turned to face her, and his eerie, too-familiar eyes met hers. She wondered if he felt the same unnerving familiarity when he looked at her.

"The—assassin in your car," he said. The anger lurking deep in his gaze was gone now, replaced by something bordering on curiosity. "Why did you stop him?"

"No one should die like that."

Shaw continued to watch her, as if waiting for her to go on.

She opened her mouth, and then closed it. She gazed past him and stared at her reflection in the dark, mirrored window that formed the front of the building. Why had she done it? Because Richard Shaw was her father? Yes, that was part of it. Because, as she said, no one should die like that? That was part of it, too. But…

"You made Emre happy, sir." She met his eyes. "She loved you and… you love her. You gave her the best life she ever knew. And you gave her the children."

"Ah, yes, the children." Shaw almost smiled. "I felt them, Tara. They touched my mind. They knew who I was."

Kressa nodded. "They were… very special children."

"So Emre showed me…" He was silent for a long time, his gaze lost in the distance behind Kressa. Finally, he looked at her again. "You may go now."

She stared in amazement. "But—"

"You came to Calton for a reason. I'm giving you the chance to complete your mission."

"But Gaunis— His men—"

"I'll take care of Gaunis's men. I can't hold them off forever, but I can buy you a day, maybe two. If you can complete your work in that time…?"

Kressa nodded. "And my ship?"

"The Conquest will remain undisturbed."

"But…" She hesitated. Why was she questioning the man's decision to release her? Why—?

"She loved you, Ta—Kressa." He searched her eyes and reached a hand toward her face, but he lowered it self-consciously before touching her. "She wanted you to know that."

And I loved her, Kressa wanted to respond, knowing it was true. But she couldn't say it.

"I guess she liked us Shaws," she said instead, struggling to keep her voice light.

Shaw gave her a gentle smile. "I guess so." He held her eyes for a moment more, and then gazed past her to the light-puddled landing field. "You should go now."

Kressa turned her head and studied the brightly lit scene of mayhem.

"Gaunis did this," she whispered, almost to herself. "Devin Tyler escaped from Marasyn. He must have gotten word to Gaunis about the children." She recalled the careful way Gaunis's men treated Emre, assuring she was not harmed, and remembered her thoughts at the time. It wasn't Emre Gaunis was interested in. Not really. She met her father's eyes. "Gaunis wanted the children."

Shaw nodded, but said nothing, his dark gaze lost somewhere beyond the field.

Kressa watched him for another long moment. She wanted to say something more, but she could not find the words.

She followed his gaze briefly, and then turned away and moved off across the field.