The Caphenon

by Fletcher DeLancey

  “Captain, it’s not too late to end this now.”

  Ekatya saw the fake regret in her expression, heard the concern that dripped off her lying tongue, and thought that she would never get a better chance to extract some tiny bit of justice. They were probably going to throw her in a dark room somewhere anyway, so she might as well make the most of her opportunity.

  “Tell me how it works,” she said. If she didn’t know better, she’d think Colonel Micah actually looked impressed.

  Lancer Tal took off her jacket and handed it to him, revealing well-muscled arms. “Any fighting style you want; no areas off limits except the eyes and ears. The fight stops when one person is either knocked out or surrenders. To surrender, say ‘I yield’ or slap the mat twice.”

  Ekatya nodded as she took off her own jacket. To her surprise, Colonel Micah held out his hand, taking her jacket and turning to hang them both on pegs mounted in the base of the observation deck. Lancer Tal sat on the long, polished bench beneath the deck and began to undo her boots, and after a moment Ekatya did the same. When their boots and socks were tucked underneath, she followed the Lancer to the cushioned center of the room.

  “When does it start?” she asked.

  “Right now.”

  “Good,” was all Ekatya said before lowering her shoulder and barreling into her. But the expected impact never happened—somehow Lancer Tal got out of her way and shoved her as she went past, nearly sending her sprawling. She turned the extra momentum into a forward roll and came to her feet, spinning in place with her arms up in a defensive posture.

  Lancer Tal stood with her hands at her sides. “I hope your Fleet taught you better than that, or this is going to be a very short challenge.”

  With a furious growl Ekatya rushed her again, this time lashing out with a fist. It was blocked, as was the next and the next, but the fourth attempt connected with a cheekbone so hard that she stepped back and bent over, shaking out her hand. “Fuck!”

  She looked up just in time to see the kick before it connected with her side, sending her reeling. A foot tripped her up, and she’d barely hit the mat before Lancer Tal was astride her and smashing a fist across her jaw, which fucking hurt—her jaw had already taken one hit today. But the Lancer’s punch left her side exposed, and Ekatya landed a blow just below her ribs. The grunt it forced out gave her a moment of triumph, and she tried to follow up her advantage by digging one heel into the mat and dislodging her attacker.

  It worked a little too easily, which she realized when the Lancer’s leg locked around hers and they rolled, ending up in exactly the same position as before. Another smash across her jaw, this time from the opposite direction, and she let out a shout of frustration. Did she have to keep hitting her there? Her jaw had now been tenderized from both sides and below; there wasn’t any part of it left that didn’t hurt.

  She drove her fist toward the Lancer’s throat, a killing blow that she’d never have considered if she were in her right mind, but she was too far gone now. Lancer Tal blocked it and hit her across the jaw again, following up with a chop to the temple that had her seeing stars. Somehow Ekatya’s sheer rage got her free and back on her feet, and she managed a vicious kick to the ribs that she thought might have ended the fight, so pained did Lancer Tal look for a moment.

  But only for a moment. The Lancer’s expression changed into something dangerous, and when she came at Ekatya it was with murder in her eyes. Everything after that was a blur. She was only aware of hitting and being hit, of falling and rising and falling again, and then there was a voice saying You took everything from me and it was some time before she realized that she wasn’t being hit anymore. She lifted her head, which felt as if four people were standing on it, and saw Lancer Tal crouched an arm’s length away. Her brain must have gotten rattled, because she thought the Lancer looked distressed. That couldn’t be right.

  “I don’t think I yielded,” she tried to say, but managed only the first two words before coughing and spitting out the blood that she hadn’t known was in her mouth.

  “Micah, would you get us some water and a kit?”

  Slowly, Ekatya rolled to her side and pushed herself into a sitting position. “Is it over?”

  “Do you yield?”

  She didn’t want to. She really didn’t want to give this woman anything when she’d already taken so much, but her head hurt and it was abundantly clear that she was outclassed. And what was she fighting for, anyway?

  “I yield.”

  A flask of water was pressed into her hand as Colonel Micah said, “You fought bravely. Here, rinse and spit into this.”

  She accepted the bowl he held out and gratefully rinsed the blood from her mouth. Then she drank half the flask. With her head a little clearer, she glanced between them and was baffled by their identical expressions of respect. “I didn’t fight that well. I just got my ass handed to me.”

  Colonel Micah’s mouth curved into a grin. “You lasted almost six ticks against the leader of the warrior caste. Take the compliment, Captain. You fought well.” He handed a small case to the Lancer and stood. “I think you two have things to discuss. I’ll be outside.”

  She watched him go. “What did he mean by that?”

  Pulling items out of the case, Lancer Tal said, “In a moment. First you need some cleaning up.”

  Instinct had Ekatya ducking and blocking the arm that reached for her face, and Lancer Tal sat back, revealing a damp cloth in her hand.

  “It’s over, Captain. I’m not going to hurt you. Let me help.”

  “Why would you want to? Haven’t you done enough?”

  Lancer Tal dropped her head, and when she looked up again, there were tears in her eyes. “I did everything I could, and it wasn’t enough. I’m about to lose my whole world because I based my battle plan on assets I don’t have. I’ve failed my people, I made an enemy of someone whose friendship I treasured, and I’ll almost certainly be dead in a few days, so for the love of Fahla, will you just let me help?”

  Shocked, Ekatya could only nod. She closed her eyes at the first touch of the cloth, expecting it to sting, but instead it cooled her hot skin and eased the pain. “What’s on that?”

  “Anti-inflammatory salve. It will keep your face from swelling up.”

  “Good. Because right now it feels twice the size it should be.”

  “Don’t worry, it doesn’t look as bad as it feels.”

  “It feels pretty bad,” she mumbled.

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  She kept her eyes closed as the cloth moved around her face, soothing and cooling wherever it touched. The laugh rumbled up out of nowhere, spilling out before she could stop it. “Of all the things you have to be sorry for, the one thing that gets you to apologize is this? I will never understand your culture.”

  The cloth left her face, and she opened her eyes to see Lancer Tal sitting back on her heels.

  “You want me to apologize for the empathic force? I won’t. Would you leave anything undone if it meant you could save your entire civilization? It’s nice to sit in judgment from a secure seat, Captain. I wish my seat were as high as yours. I did what I had to; it wasn’t personal.”

  “It wasn’t personal? You forced Lhyn to leave me and you don’t call that personal?”

  “I didn’t force her.”

  But she’d hesitated for a moment, and the loophole was obvious. “So you had someone else do it.”

  “That was the plan, yes. But it turned out to be unnecessary. I know you don’t want to hear this, but Lhyn made that decision on her own.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I’ve never lied to you. I haven’t always told you the whole truth, but I didn’t lie. Lhyn was never forced.”

  A retort rose up, but then Ekatya remembered Lhyn’s impassioned arguments. That was entirely in character for her; she hadn’t acted out of the ordinary in any way until this morning. And the look in her eyes when she’d said she was staying, when she plead
ed for Ekatya to stay as well…

  She shook her head. “Then you really did take everything from me. Congratulations, Lancer Tal. You may not keep the victory for long, but you did win it.”

  Lancer Tal stared at her without answering. At last she dropped the cloth and dug back into the box, emerging with a tablet in one hand and several transparent strips in the other. Holding out the tablet, she said, “Take this and keep it in your mouth until it dissolves. It tastes terrible, but it will seal the cuts inside your cheeks.”

  Ekatya eyed it, thinking about how easy it would be to dispose of an inconvenient and no-longer-needed captain with a quick bit of poison, but at last her better instincts took over. “I suppose if you wanted to kill me, you could have done it with your bare hands,” she said, accepting the tablet. She popped it in her mouth and winced. It tasted like the bottom of her boot.

  “Yes, I could have.” Lancer Tal’s touch was gentle as she applied a transparent strip to Ekatya’s face. “And I should be insulted that you’d even consider a motive like that, but I’ve already dealt with one challenge today and another one would tire me out and put you in the healing center, so I’ll let that one pass.”

  Ekatya snorted, but couldn’t say anything with the tablet in her mouth.

  Two more strips were applied before the Lancer spoke again. “I really am sorry about hurting you. But not even Micah could look the other way if I refused a challenge, and you knew exactly what to say. I thought I could knock that anger out of you more quickly, but you’re stubborn.”

  Yes, I am, she thought, and fought down the tears that tickled at the back of her throat. So stubborn that she wouldn’t listen to Lhyn, dismissing all of her arguments with platitudes about duty and orders, and what had that gotten her? She’d given up everything and still been betrayed on both sides.

  She should have been stubborn when it counted, not when it didn’t.

  Lancer Tal finished with her face and held up the water flask. “Has it dissolved yet?”

  “Ugh,” she said in answer, reaching for the flask. “You weren’t kidding about the taste.”

  “I also wasn’t kidding about the benefit.” Lancer Tal picked up one of her hands and began brushing the cloth over her knuckles.

  Ekatya held up her other hand, inspecting the abraded knuckles, then looked more closely at the Lancer’s face. “Why don’t you look as bad as my hands?”

  “Because you kept hitting me on the cheekbones, like a first-season trainee without a sip of sense. That’s the most armored part of our faces.”

  “Just my luck.”

  “Well, if it makes you feel any better, that kick you landed in my ribs really hurt.”

  Ekatya thought about it. “It should make me feel better, but it doesn’t.”

  “Then maybe there’s hope.” Lancer Tal let go of her hand and picked up the other one, while Ekatya viewed the results of her ministrations. The abrasions already looked several days old.

  “There’s more than just an anti-inflammatory in that salve, isn’t there?” she asked. “You’re accelerating the healing.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why are you doing this for me?”

  “Because you’re the person whose friendship I treasured. I never wanted to make an enemy of you.”

  “Well, you certainly did everything you could to make it happen.” But Ekatya couldn’t find the same anger that had been burning up her guts ever since things had gone to Hades in the shuttle. What would you do to save your world? she asked herself.

  Anything. Anything at all, no matter the personal cost. What did one person’s honor or guilt matter when weighed against a holocaust?

  Lancer Tal set her hand down gently. Shifting over, she used the cloth to wipe up the blood Ekatya had spat onto the mat, folded it up, and laid it next to the box. Retrieving one more tablet, she held it out. “If you want to keep your head from pounding like twelve units of Guards are marching through it, take this.”

  Ekatya didn’t question this time, swallowing the tablet without a word.

  They sat looking at each other for several uncomfortable moments before Lancer Tal asked, “Why do you keep saying I took everything from you?”

  “Because you did. You put me in one impossible situation after another. First I had to choose between Lhyn and my responsibilities. Then I had to choose between wrong and more wrong. And when I decided not to blow the Caphenon, Baldassar—”

  “You didn’t give the command?”

  “No, I cancelled it. But apparently I’m just as transparent to my first officer as I am to you, because he had a failsafe in place and a detonator.” It was almost comical—Lancer Tal had a failsafe on top of Baldassar’s failsafe.

  “We didn’t know that. We thought it was you.”

  So now Lhyn hated her. Perfect. “When I cancelled the command, Baldassar relieved me of duty, which he had every right to do. My crew wouldn’t support him, but by the time I get off this planet—if I get off this planet—my captain’s bars will be long gone. That’s on top of the ship I already lost, and all right, that one isn’t your fault, but right now it feels like it. But none of that is as bad as losing Lhyn.”

  “But I didn’t take Lhyn from you.”

  “Stars and Shippers, she stood right next to you and told me she was staying with you!”

  “No, she told you she was staying. Not with me.”

  She stared, wanting desperately to believe, but she didn’t trust this woman’s word anymore. “Then I don’t understand. Why were you going to force her if it wasn’t to keep her for yourself?”

  “Keep her—” Lancer Tal’s calm vanished into a look of utter shock. “You actually think…how could…Great Mother!”

  For a moment there was such horror in her expression that Ekatya braced for the worst, but then the Lancer’s body seemed to collapse in on itself.

  “No wonder you wanted to kill me. No, Captain. Not ever. Not in this lifetime or fifty others; I would never—” Her breath caught in her throat, sounding almost like a sob, but it turned into a humorless laugh instead. “I think you might be confused as to who the monsters really are.”

  Ekatya was definitely confused. “You wanted to control me through her, didn’t you?”

  “Not you. Your decisions. One decision, actually. I needed you to stay, to help us. You’re the only one who can command what’s left of your ship. But you needed the right motivation.” She paused, looked toward the ceiling, and then shook her head. “All right. Why not, everything we know is going to get blown to its Return in a nineday anyway. Captain Serrado, there is no way I could take Lhyn from you. Me, or anyone else. It’s simply not possible, because you’re tyrees. A tyree bond cannot be broken from the outside. And a tyree would do anything to save her bondmate, no matter the cost. That’s why you risked your career to save Lhyn even though you hadn’t yet committed to each other. And it’s why I knew that if Lhyn stayed, you’d come back.”

  She remembered Lhyn saying something about tyrees when they were in the healing center. Some mythical type of Alsean bonding…oh, right.

  “Soulmates?” she scoffed. “I don’t believe in that.”

  “Nor do I, at least not the way Lhyn explained it. A tyree bond isn’t some magical fiction. It’s real and measurable, a very specific connection between the empathic centers of two people. It’s a bond that goes beyond the emotional into the mental and physiological. It’s profoundly deep and precious, and we consider it one of Fahla’s greatest gifts.”

  “We’re not empathic.”

  “Which is exactly why it’s so shocking that you’re tyrees and why I’ve classified the information. I really don’t know how the Alsean public would react to the idea of sonsales aliens being tyrees.”

  “And why do you think that’s what we are?” Ekatya wasn’t buying this.

  “Because I can feel it. The two of you broadcast it every time you’re in the same room. It’s impossible not to know. No high empath could avoid feelin
g it, and the way you broadcast, I don’t think mid empaths could miss it either.” Her expression gave way to a wry smile. “All this time I’ve wondered whether I should tell you, and when I finally do, you refuse to believe. Fahla does love her irony.”

  “How am I supposed to believe in some deep and precious empathic bond when I’m sonsales, and yet somehow…I have it anyway? With the woman who left me, no less.”

  “Fahla grant me patience. You have something I’ve only dreamed of, but you don’t know it, don’t know what to do with it, and don’t believe it! What I wouldn’t give to have what you’re intent on throwing away.”

  Ekatya studied her. She did seem very earnest, and the fact that she was openly showing this much emotion said something about her level of honesty. “It’s an interesting concept,” she allowed. “And it sounds like a nice sort of thing to have, but I still don’t—”

  “I could show you,” Lancer Tal interrupted.

  “You must be joking. You think I’d let you anywhere near me after what you did to my crew? Not to mention the fact that you just beat me senseless.”

  “I never took you for a coward.”

  Ekatya waved a finger. “That sort of manipulation won’t work on me. I’ve used it too often myself.”

  “That’s not manipulation; it’s the truth. You have a bond that shouldn’t be possible among your kind. It’s even rare among my kind. You shouldn’t be able to doubt that Lhyn loves you, yet you do because you don’t understand the bond you share. I can show you exactly how she feels about you, and you’re going to run away from that? There’s no other explanation besides cowardice. You’re afraid to know.”

  “I’m not afraid to know; I’m afraid to let you touch me!”

  Well, speaking of irony. She’d done her best to hurt this woman earlier, and now she’d managed it by sheer accident.