Treasure of Light (The Light Trilogy) by Kathleen O’Neal

and already massive numbers of people had fled the planet, seeking refuge from the fire storms that ravaged Horeb. Many of the ships appeared barely able to fly. Hastily applied patches marred the hulls and blast marks scarred the wings and sides.
    “For God’s sake, how can we take care of them all?” Harper whispered. “We’ve only secured four levels and most of those refugees are starving or hurt. How can—”
    “We just have to get organized. Quickly.”
    Reaching over to the white control console on his right, Jeremiel input a series of commands. The images on the screens changed, showing a dozen landing bays. People disgorged from ships to flood down the gangplanks. Children filled many arms. Others supported wounded. Some carried the dead, faces still contorted in long-forgotten agonies.
    “Avel,” Baruch said wearily. “None of the refugees are to get into the Hoyer until we’ve secured decks ten through twenty. Keep them locked in the bays.”
    “Understood. I’ll organize security details immediately.”
    “We also need to set up a hospital and establish a command hierarchy. Rank goes as follows: Me first, you second, Rachel third and …” He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Who else? Who can we depend on?”
    “Now that we know Mikael Calas is alive, shouldn’t he be included in the—”
    “No. He’s just a boy. I’ll consult with him, yes, but… make Yosef Calas fourth in line, got it? He can act as Mikael’s guardian.”
    “What about cabin assignments?”
    “Four people per room. Try to accommodate families where possible. There’s no telling how long these refugees will be aboard. We want to make them as comfortable as we can.”
    “I’ll input personal data into the computer as soon as we obtain it. That should make assignments considerably faster and easier.”
    “Thank you.” Baruch turned around and leaned heavily against the console, folding his arms over his breast. His blond hair had taken on a dull sheen of sweat and dirt. “Let me just rest a moment and then we need to go down and take an inventory of the wounded. Many are going to need immediate attention.”
    Harper gazed back up at the monitors, watching hundreds more people flooding out of the ships. Blood drenched nearly every tattered garment. “Yes.”
    Baruch turned sideways and struck an adjacent monitor. When it flared to life, Harper frowned. Soldiers in purple uniforms battled against each other! One man went down beneath a barrage of fire, his upper torso slamming the wall before tumbling across the floor to stare wide-eyed into the monitor. His four assailants ran back down the long white corridor.
    Harper straightened up. “Where is that happening?”
    Baruch’s mouth tightened. “Level six.”
    “Why? What’s—”
    “Every battle cruiser has spies aboard. Undoubtedly the resident Clandestine Services officers are trying to take control of the ship from the ‘incompetent’ officers who lost it.”
    “By killing their own people?”
    “Oh, yes.” He smiled tiredly. “It’s standard procedure.”
    “Will the turmoil help or hurt us?”
    “Unknown.”
    Baruch started to straighten up but seemed to lose his balance. He stumbled sideways and grabbed the console to steady himself. Harper reached for his arm, supporting him.
    “You all right?”
    Jeremiel rubbed hands over his face. “I will be—once I get some rest.”
    Harper tried not to notice the way his commander’s legs trembled from fatigue. He wanted to tell Jeremiel to go to bed now, that he could handle things—but that would have been a lie. They all needed Baruch awake. Jeremiel hadn’t slept for two days and the past several months had already taken their toll on his strength. Baruch had come to Horeb directly from hot fighting in the Akiba system.
    Harper released his arm and stood by, waiting for instructions. As of three hours ago, he understood why Gamants all over the galaxy worshiped Baruch as a savior. On some of the