Catalyst

by Fletcher DeLancey

  “We’re done,” she said, stepping back. “You can go take that shower now.”

  Ekatya could not meet her eyes. She pushed herself off the bed and walked out without a word.

  CHAPTER 31:

  Iceflame

  Every stitch of clothing she had on went straight into the recycle chute. Ekatya paused only long enough to remove the ensign’s insignia and leftover stun beads from her jacket pockets before stripping and throwing the whole bundle in. She would need to have another dress uniform tailored, but she would have paid for fifty new uniforms rather than wear that one ever again.

  She started the shower with cool water, wondering if normal people knew that dried blood came off skin more easily in lower temperatures. When she stepped under the spray, the entire shower floor turned pink. The odor that rose from her hair and skin was so strong that she wasn’t sure if she was smelling it or tasting it.

  After the first rinse, she turned the temperature as hot as she could stand and scrubbed her skin raw. It took two applications of shampoo before the water ran clean, and she silently thanked Dr. Wells for making that part easier than it might have been.

  Dressed once more in a standard uniform, she sat down at her desk and composed a report to Dr. Wells explaining what had happened and why she thought psychological services might be particularly necessary for two team members. A second report, focused on the chronological events and performance evaluations of each member, was logged with personnel and simultaneously added to her official log. She still needed to debrief with the team and suspected she would be awarding commendations to several of them. She had no idea what had happened during the firefight at the stair entrance, or how it had been decided that Trooper Blunt would be the one to stand at the cargo bay door, providing cover fire.

  Next she notified Commander Kenji of Lieutenant Kitt’s current task priority. A quick check of the ship’s status confirmed that they were traveling back toward the base space relay at L five point five. Halaama was well behind them.

  Her immediate duties done, she called up the forward sensors on her display and sat on her couch, watching the view. She needed to make her report to Sholokhov, but at the moment she did not see how she could do it without saying something that would destroy her career.

  As she stared at the star field, her mind went back to the moment of Ensign Bellows’s death. Again and again she watched herself reaching out, just before his head exploded. She had seen many things in her career, but never before had death been that close and that personal. Her skin was clean now, but she still felt the blood spraying.

  The thought hit with such force that it brought her up straight. She wasted no time putting a call through to Warrant Officer Roris’s quarters.

  It was answered quickly. “Yes, Captain?”

  “How did they kill Ensign Bellows?” She saw the confused expression and realized how that had sounded. “I mean, what weapon did they use? They had leadslingers. Unless their ammunition was the size of my big toe, it wouldn’t do that.”

  Roris’s face cleared. “No, it wasn’t a leadslinger. Those soldiers were different. Different uniforms, different weapons. Torado and I took them from the ones we pulled through the door. Wait, I’ll get it.”

  She vanished from the screen and reappeared a few seconds later. “Here it is. We figured they designed these for use in their ships. Though why they haven’t distributed them to all of their guards, I don’t know.”

  Ekatya stared at the ugly blaster in her hand. “I need you to bring that to my quarters.”

  “Do you want the other one, too? I can get it from Torado.”

  “No, one is fine.”

  Within ten minutes, she had the blaster on her desk and Sholokhov on her quantum com. As usual, he wasted no time on greetings or courtesy.

  “Captain Serrado, what did you find out?”

  “What you already knew. The Guild is Elin Frank.”

  He sat back in his office chair. “So it was him. I didn’t know for certain, but as soon as you reported on the lack of Voloth presence, he was my first suspect. You have proof?”

  “I have correspondence with the Great Leader, encrypted with Frank’s system. We haven’t decrypted it yet.”

  He leaned forward again. “That is your top priority. I expect a full report the moment you have that data in the clear.”

  She made no response, simply watching him for several seconds as he began to frown. At last she said, “You really don’t know the first thing about Fleet operations, do you?”

  “What?” His shaggy gray eyebrows drew together. “Captain, I am giving you an order.”

  “Yes, I heard your order. What I didn’t hear was any indication that you know the protocol for a commanding officer. When you send a team on a mission and the team leader reports back, it is customary,” she spat the word, “to inquire after the welfare of that team before asking for results.”

  “Ah. I presume from this that not everyone returned unharmed.”

  “You’re not going to get those files decrypted as quickly as you want. The only member of my crew who knew Frank’s encryption system was Ensign Bellows, and he’s dead.”

  “I’m very sorry to hear that,” he said in an approximation of sympathy. “But it’s clear that he performed admirably before his death, since you know about Frank.”

  “You are something else.” Ekatya suddenly felt weary beyond measure. “We’re working on the files. It will take at least a week. In the meantime, I do have other proof.” She held up the blaster. “Frank tried to sell these to Fleet, but we weren’t buying. He has one on display in his personal collection, in his house. He bragged to me about its stopping power. I can attest to the truth of that brag, because I saw it in action. This is the weapon that a Halaaman soldier used to kill Ensign Bellows.”

  For once, Sholokhov showed a genuine emotion. “Frank has already sold weapons to the Halaamans? That…surprises me. Captain, you’ve done well. That blaster is all I need to get started. Send me a scan of it, and have it checked for atomic markers to establish its planetary provenance. If those are already out there, then another shipment may be on its way. I want you to hold position outside the Lexihari system while you decrypt those files, and we take care of business on our end. I may have another assignment for you.”

  “Wonderful, I can’t wait,” she said. “At least I don’t have any more inexperienced ensigns you can send out to die.”

  He paused. “I understand you’re upset, Captain, so I’ll ignore that. But don’t do it again.”

  The screen returned to the priority blue emblem. She stared at it, then set the blaster back on her desk.

  “The galaxy would be a better place if it had been you,” she muttered.

  She passed the orders to Lokomorra and watched her wall display as the star field shifted, rolling to the left. When the stars ceased moving, she changed the display to the video Lhyn had taken from the east bank of the Fahlinor River. The broad river flowed in the foreground, while across the water lay the manicured lawns and landscaping of Blacksun’s State Park. Beyond was a forest broken by the tops of eight buildings: the six caste houses, each with a domed roof of a different color, and the even larger domes of the State House and Blacksun Temple. Through some bit of data wizardry, she could not see the shift when the recording looped. The water flow was uninterrupted and always different. She had spent hours upon hours with this scene on her display, and other than the large purple bird that drifted down the river now and again, she never saw the same thing more than once.

  Letting the sound of the river soothe her frayed nerves, she took advantage of one of the best perks given executive officers: her personal matter printer. Lower ranks and noncoms ate in one of the messes on board or bought meals in one of the restaurants, but she had the option of eating in her quarters. Rarely had she appreciated that more than today, when s
he could not bear the thought of interacting with one more person—other than Lhyn or Andira, both of whom she fervently wished were here. Lhyn would know that this was not a time for questions and would provide comfort merely by her presence. And Andira wouldn’t need to ask. She would understand.

  But Ekatya couldn’t talk to either of them for another three days, and given the distances and number of base space relays involved, she would have to choose one or the other. Right now, she wanted comfort more than understanding.

  After a dinner she hardly tasted, she sat on the couch with a glass of iceflame in her hand. It was cold going in, hot going down, and exactly what she needed.

  “Phoenix, play Kyrie Razinfin, Flight of the Return. Volume level eight.”

  It seemed the best way she could honor Ensign Bellows. She had no body to take back to his parents. He had been too new for a memorial to have any real effect. She would give one, of course, but he had been aboard for less than three weeks. Ninety-eight percent of her crew had never heard his name.

  But the Alseans could mourn the loss even of those they did not know. So she sat with her eyes closed and listened to Alsea’s most famous vocalist sing the lament she had first heard in a stadium packed with fifty thousand people. When the tears began to flow, she did not try to hold them back.

  “For Fahla and Alsea,” she murmured when the song made its triumphant finish. “Or in your case, for the Seeders and the Protectorate. If I had a sword, I’d raise it for you. You deserved so much better.”

  The sound of the river rose again, filling her quarters with its soothing voice. It had almost lulled her to sleep when her entrance bell rang.

  She startled upright and hoped enough time had passed to erase the signs of her weeping. Her self-consciousness only increased upon finding Dr. Wells at her door.

  “I come in peace,” Wells said before Ekatya could utter a word. “And bearing gifts.” She held up a bottle of liquid, clear on the top half and red on the bottom.

  Ekatya felt an unwilling smile crack her face. “Iceflame?”

  “Good for special occasions.” Wells was still in uniform, but her hair was out of its twist and draped halfway down her back. It was a careful statement, Ekatya thought: not quite casual, but not on duty either.

  She stepped back and watched the doctor walk in. “Have a seat. I’ll get another glass.”

  Wells set the bottle on the coffee table and sat on the couch. “That’s beautiful,” she said, indicating the display on the opposite wall. “Where is it?”

  “Alsea.” The short answer invited no questions; Ekatya was not in the mood. On her way to the kitchen, she stripped off her uniform jacket and hung it across the back of her desk chair.

  “I know you’ve eaten,” Wells said, “so I thought it was time for the next phase of treatment.”

  Of course she had monitored her matter printer usage. “Then this is an official visit?” she asked, pulling a glass from behind its polished wooden brace.

  “Yes. I’m here to officially get us both drunk.”

  “And you think that will help?” Ekatya sat on the couch and offered the glass.

  Wells looked her in the eye as she accepted it. “I think it’s the only thing that will.” She shook the bottle, blending the two liquors, then filled both glasses and held hers up. “To Ensign Bellows.”

  Ekatya clenched her jaw against the tears she had so recently shed. “To Ensign Bellows.” She downed the drink in a gulp, shivering at the freeze in her mouth that turned into a roaring flame in her throat. The heat evaporated the tears, leaving her calmer and less afraid of looking vulnerable. Without a word, she held out her glass.

  Wells shook the bottle and poured again.

  “To fresh starts,” Ekatya said.

  Wells smiled. “To fresh starts.”

  On their third shot, Wells proposed a toast to “my idea of the afterlife: a place with no Sholokhovs, and where being right isn’t a complete fuck.”

  Ekatya nearly inhaled the drink she had just brought to her lips. When she got over the burn of that one—three in a row really did increase the heat factor—she said, “I have never in my life wished so hard to be wrong.”

  “I believe you. You told me this would happen back when I changed your language chip.”

  “Yes, but even then I never dreamed it would happen like that. Fucking Hades, what a horror. He was so—” She paused, remembering. “He enjoyed that mission. I keep seeing him smiling. And I told him I was proud of him. Fifteen minutes before he died.”

  “Then he died happy and proud,” Wells said gently. “I read your report. He never knew what hit him. He never had a chance to be afraid. It was completely painless. He had a good mission, he made his captain proud—he was cut down too soon, but Captain, I have seen a lot of people die. There is no kinder death than what happened to him. If I could choose my own death, I would choose something like that.”

  Ekatya had not thought of it that way. She swallowed hard and held out her glass.

  “One more, and then we need to slow down.” Wells refilled their glasses.

  “I thought you came here to officially get us drunk?”

  “I said slow down, not stop.” She handed over Ekatya’s glass, held up her own, and said, “To caring captains who make their crew proud. I’m thrilled to be serving with one.”

  Ekatya choked, then threw down the drink in a desperate effort not to cry.

  Iceflame really was effective. By the time that one hit her stomach, the water in her eyes was from pain. “Shekking Mother,” she gasped. “That hurt.”

  “My language chips didn’t work for that.” Wells looked amused. “But it sounded…emphatic.”

  “It’s an Alsean curse. It worked its way into my vocabulary.”

  “Shekking,” Wells repeated in an experimental tone.

  Ekatya chuckled to hear her say it. “The second word means mother, which is a reference to their goddess. Shekking Mother is about as nasty as you can get. It’s a religious and sexual profanity.”

  “Oh, those are the best.”

  “Aren’t they? Almost makes me wish I were religious.”

  Wells’s laugh was a little scratchy, most likely from the alcohol, and it set Ekatya at ease. She turned sideways on the couch, facing her guest with one bent leg resting on the cushion. “Thank you for coming. And that is not something I expected to say when I saw you at my door.”

  “I know. That’s why I brought the iceflame.” Wells turned and settled back as well, reminding Ekatya once again of a lounging cat with her slanted green eyes and high cheekbones. “Captain, I’d like to take this moment to officially accept your apology. If you’re still offering it.”

  “It was always out there. And I accept yours as well. I was…not myself.”

  “No, you weren’t. But you had a giant excuse, which I understood as soon as you told me where all that blood came from. I’m afraid I was trying to make a point when I called you. I just picked a terrible time to do it.”

  “Did you ever.” Ekatya found that she could talk about it now without foaming at the mouth, something she would not have believed possible twenty minutes ago. “I knew you were making a point. That’s why I was so angry. It’s the same point Sholokhov keeps making with me, over and over—that I’m not the one with the power.”

  Wells shook her head. “No. No, what a sewage sump this whole thing has been. I wasn’t trying to tell you that you didn’t have any power. I was trying to assert the little bit that I can claim. I thought you were doing what so many of my captains have done—ignore the protocols they make everyone else follow and try to show me that I’m just one more member of the executive staff. Most captains hate the power of the chief surgeon. We’re the only ones who can tell you what to do. And after what you said when I installed your language chip, about holding a grudge…” She shrugged. “
I thought you didn’t respect me. I misread you because I hadn’t gotten past the sartasin fever order. And that’s entirely on me.”

  Suddenly, Ekatya saw that conversation far more clearly. She had indeed been ignoring protocol, and if her relationship with her chief surgeon had been healthy, it would not have been an issue. They needed to fix this.

  “No, it’s not,” she said. “It’s on Sholokhov. He did this to both of us.”

  “Let me take responsibility for my own stupidity, all right?”

  Ekatya looked at her seriously. “I don’t recruit stupid officers. And it is on Sholokhov, because he poisoned the well we were both drinking from. It seems to have taken a bottle of that to counteract the poison.” She pointed at the half-empty bottle. “You were the one smart enough to see that, and to bring it here in spite of our last interaction.”

  “I’m starting to understand why you have the reputation you do,” Wells said. “I hope someday you’ll tell me what you told Bellows.”

  Remembering her early days with Bellows, Ekatya had to smile. “You’re getting there faster than he did. Poor Bellows. He spent his first six months tiptoeing around me because I thought he was a spy for Sholokhov and—oh, Shippers.” She stared at Wells. “He’s done this to me twice. Or I’ve done it to myself. I’m an idiot.”

  “Well, if I’m not stupid, you’re certainly not an idiot.”

  A silence fell between them then, but it was not uncomfortable. The thrumming song of the Fahlinor River helped, and probably the iceflame, but Ekatya thought it might also have to do with the doctor who had braved the fire-breathing captain in her den.

  “Do you know,” she said, “for a while today, I thought I might have killed him.”

  Dr. Wells did not look surprised or horrified, nor did she immediately negate the statement. She simply tilted her head to one side and asked, “How?”

  “When I told him I was proud of him. I thought maybe I made him overconfident; maybe I shouldn’t have said anything until after the mission was over. But then I remembered—he made the same mistake earlier. He opened a door without checking for thermal signals behind it, and Lieutenant Korelonn called him on it. Less than an hour later, he did the exact same thing. He was just too inexperienced. Putting him on that team was like asking a first-year cadet to take the senior’s practical exam. But right up to that moment, I would have given him an excellent grade.” She shook her head. “What a loss. He would have been such a good officer. And I missed him by one second.”