by Allan Cole
“We are as shocked and saddened as the rest of the galaxy at the innocent lives that were lost.”
He frowned, thinking he might have gone too far. “Not that we accept responsibility for the incident!” he added.
At that moment Tanya sensed a familiar presence and smelled a foul, familiar odor. She glanced behind her and saw that Kriegworm had entered. From his red goggle-eyed look of horror, she could tell he’d been listening in and didn’t approve.
Tanya ignored him, concentrating on the admiral who was saying, “HolidayOne was clearly the result of a conspiracy. No one knows who is responsible, of course, but we on the Borodino have our ideas!”
“So noted, Sir,” Tanya said. “But I don’t see what any of this has to do with my problem. The problem that may force me to abort the mission immediately and return to headquarters to report your interference with my investigation.”
The admiral’s jaw dropped. A most amusing sight, Tanya thought.
“Abort the …” he gobbled “… interference … return to headquarters … I… uh …” and then he straightened it all out, showing how he had made rear admiral in the first place, drawing himself up and saying, “What seems to be the trouble, Major Lawson?”
“Why was I personally scanned by your security, Sir?” she said, making it sound like an accusation, rather than a question.
Tanya shot a look at Kriegworm, who had his big fiendish head down, examining his Rolex. He didn’t want any part of this.
Meanwhile, on the port screen, Rear Admiral Amiriani had the wisdom to frown, as if considering deeply.
Then: “But … but … That was purely routine, Major. The Borodino is a top-secret military post. Everything must be scanned before it enters or departs our zone.”
“Except for me, Sir,” Tanya said.
“What?” Amiriani was startled.
To Kriegworm’s horror, Tanya threw the book at the admiral: “Sir,” she said, “it is expressly forbidden by the charter your government has signed with the United Worlds Organization to in any way search, touch or interfere with an official representative’s person or belongings in any manner, including the use of magical surveillance techniques.”
“Pardon?” Amiriani had the look of a stunned bull.
“If you review the charter item in question, Sir,” she said, “… which, I’m sure you have posted in all appropriate places aboard the Borodino as is required by the terms of that very same charter …” she tilted one corner of her lips for a small smile, stealing breath to go on … “you will see that my memory is quite accurate. And that I quoted correctly.”
Amiriani waved at her. “Quite correct, I am certain, Major,” he said. “No need to look it up. However, it should be noted that the Borodino is a special case. A very special —”
“If that’s how you want to view the situation, Sir,” Tanya said, cutting him off. She shrugged. “I’ll make note of your ‘special case’ plea when I report to my superiors.”
She started to turn away. “Excuse me, Sir,” she said, “but I must give the captain my orders for an immediate return to Earth.”
Kriegworm waved at her frantically, hissing in alarm. He clearly thought she’d gone mad to risk this break with the Russians. Tanya, fearing he was giving her game away, prayed Amiriani hadn’t noticed the dissension on her little team.
Evidently he hadn’t, because the next thing she heard was:
“Please, please, Major! Don’t be so hasty!”
Tanya turned back to see Amiriani turn on all the charm at his command— which was considerable. “Can’t we discuss this further?” he urged.
“I’m convinced that the unforgivable intrusion on your person was accidental. Surely, some young lieutenant, eager to do his duty, failed to key you out of the security sweep.
“Why don’t we put this unfortunate incident behind us so you can proceed with the Borodino’s full and eager cooperation. We want to get to the bottom of this tragedy at once.
“And it would be cruel to deny the families of the innocent victims an answer to what became of their loved ones, and why.”
Tanya pretended to hesitate, mulling over his appeal.
The admiral placed a hand of insincerity across his broad chest. “Let us make peace, Major,” he said. “For the good of all.”
Tanya rewarded him with a smile. “Very well, Sir,” she said. “I’ll overlook the incident.”
Amiriani had to struggle manfully to keep from sagging in relief. His own superiors would have skinned him alive for making such a mistake with this stubborn and dangerous woman.
He’d heard from “certain sources” that she was a bitch. He didn’t doubt the description then— and he certainly didn’t now that he’d met her.
Tanya knew exactly what he was thinking, so she gave him a parting shot.
“I’ll ignore it, Sir,” she said, “but I should warn you that there will still be a reference to the incident in my raw notes. Which, I suspect, will be subpoenaed by all parties when I report.”
She shrugged, saying, “They can’t be erased, you know. Once entered in a Master Investigator’s raw notes, they become a matter of legal record.”
After an exchange of a few pleasantries, a much chastened rear-admiral signed off. The port screen flickered and suddenly there was a view of the massive Borodino battlestation, in all its deadly glory.
Tanya smiled, chalking up another victory.
“Pardon, ma’am,” Kriegworm said, spoiling her mood, “but I think we maybe made a mistake with the admiral. If you don’t mind me saying so.”
Tanya gave him her full attention. Kriegworm’s bulky, eight foot form was draped in the usual gray suit, decorated by the Rolex on his scaly wrist. The heavy scent of eau de cologne thickening the air.
“How so?” she asked, fighting revulsion.
In her heart she knew Kriegworm was one of God’s creatures who must struggle to live out his span. Once again she thought of a roach. An eight-foot roach. And wondered what the hell had been on God’s mind!
Meanwhile, Kriegworm was saying, “The exchange was rather rude, don’t you think, ma’am?”
Tanya snorted. “Not any ruder than the missile he fired that killed all those people on the HolidayOne!”
An hour later she was being piped aboard the Borodino with full military honors.
A much chastened rear-admiral at her elbow. A very worried Kriegworm at her heels.
And she thought, Boy, wouldn’t Harry be surprised to see me now!
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
To Vlad it was as if the very size of the immense battleship had slowed time to a crawl.
And through the tough armor, through the uncounted combat chambers, through all that combined massif of decks, guntowers, missile batteries, radar outposts, fiendish pens, et cetera, no one in the whole galaxy— not even the greatest Wizards of old— could quicken that lack of movement.
For Vlad, it was as if the small drops of time were falling in slow-motion from an ancient Chinese water torture machine. And they were gradually driving him mad.
He was only a few hours away from the arrival of Tanya Lawson and he was still at a complete loss.
Not a single trace of a diversion or sabotage. Moreover, all the battle records of that unhappy launch were ambiguous.
His first impression had been false. Now he was beginning to wonder if the crew had indeed fired too hastily, paying no heed to minor clues which should have stayed their hands until they had time to investigate more closely.
Such as the discrepancy between the size of the “attacking” vessel and her magical innards. Of course, there were no traces of criminal laxity.
It was beginning to look like the entire crew— from Daniel Carvaserin down to the lowest member— had suddenly turned mad.
Vlad gritted his teeth. He was sitting in a small cabin on the middle officers’ lounge deck. Despite all his talents, he didn’t dare manipulate the combat records to cover the Borodino’s ac
tions.
An experienced investigator like Lawson would surely trace him. Father Onphim had sent an imperative “NYET!” to Vlad’s coded inquiry to do so. And Vlad had been vastly relieved to receive that negative response.
But what could he do further? The boy, Billy Ivanov, was still in such shock that he refused to talk to Vlad, or anyone else.
The tech team interrogation had also resulted in nothing. No traces of any manipulation, by hand or by magic, with the inner connection systems.
Vlad had even investigated the Optic Disc Drive Dwarves Team, but that had also been a useless effort.
Patiently he’d studied all the paths of the magical signals, talking with tiny dwarves and little gargoyles— different kinds of fairies, who worked as information transmitters.
He’d interrogated the fiendish crew of vidpallets and vidscreens. And the radar-wave bearers, grim creatures, whose food was a Vacuum— nothing. Not a single trace of a plot or anything like one.
However, there was SOMETHING. Practically all the fiends aboard Borodino were both frightened and astonished.
Surely, no one could confirm Old Scratch’s words about a great power, but no one considered the missile firing a common incident. The battlestation had made many such shots during training— but this was different.
Why?— no one could explain.
Chyvaist, the DeathSpirit, had been extremely grim and ungracious. Vlad had forced the battle fiend to speak, but even his deadly power had been unable to make Chyvaist a single bit more hospitable.
“Yea, boss,” hissed Chyvaist. “I was there, in the warhead. And it was a damnably good blinding field around that little beauty we punched. I was sure…”
“But when thou penetrated the field,” Vlad was very patient and calm, “thou saw a civilian ship, didn’t thee?”
“’Twas too late to abort,” Chyvaist said grimly. “That fiendish explosive… thou must know.”
“Of course. But what didst thou feel in the last moments before execution?”
Vlad hated such questions. Questions must be clear and plain, especially when talking with fiends. However, Chyvaist balled himself up in a globe of wrath.
“What didst I feel? Listen, softskin, thou art the first to ask me ’bout it, and I’ll tell thee. I felt someone’s mockery.”
“What?”— Vlad was astonished.
“Mockery. A faint laugh. It sounded like one of my goblins chuckled.”
Goblins never chuckle. Not in all the long millenniums of slavery.
“And thou?”
“My balls were burnin,’ like you softskins used to say, I expect. And there was nothing more. But, I repeat my last— I think that one of my poor fellows really chuckled before he was taken by the flame…”
And that had been that.
As Vlad reviewed his notes, the loudspeakers suddenly blared into life, announcing that the Stardove, the liner bearing Master Investigator Tanya Lawson, was preparing to dock.
Vlad was out of time.
He made a grim face. So it is. Nice to meet you, Ma’am.
At first Vlad decided to monitor everything from a distance. That way he could avoid any physical contact with the woman.
He felt as if he were standing on the very rim of a great defeat. Possibly the greatest defeat in all his long life.
Oh, there were ways to get around it. Such as declaring someone from the crew— for example, that miserable wretch of a firing officer, Dolgov— an Amer spy.
And he could make Dolgov an offer, promising him life in exchange for his “true” testimony. And then Dolgov could be hidden away where no one would ever find him while the official announcements were made.
Obviously, both Daniel and Brand Carvaserin would prefer that way. Both Wizards would— but not Vlad.
He felt as if he’d been stricken with a black fever. He wanted to take that scum— what scum? Who knew?— by the throat.
Vlad steeled himself. By damn, he would not retreat!
But how could he turn his defense into an offense? Where, by god, did the cotton string end?
Oh yes, he suspected Daniel Carvaserin. But suspicion was nothing but suspicion and this one was pretty naked. Nothing to confirm the accusation. Nothing!.. Nothing except faint visions and the imagination of two fiends who could not be called as witnesses in a human court.
Vlad forced himself to cast aside such thoughts.
Lawson— let’s keep an eye on her…
He flicked the vidscreen into life and saw her for the first time and his eyes became chained to the screen in a single moment.
And he thought, Oh yes, vot eto da, this is a woman!
He’d never considered himself a lady-killer. And he rarely was so rude as to ogle girls, even if they weren’t looking.
But this woman was marvelous! A beauty unlike any he’d seen before.
Vlad’s senses were rocked by the sight of her.
The blonde in a UWP Major’s uniform reminded him of a tigress— a tense and fearful grace in each movement. Proud head raised, unruly golden curls forced under a UWP forage cap. A woman’s glance, keen and professional, swiftly and tenaciously running to and fro.
And for a moment Vlad’s eyes met Investigator Lawson’s gaze and never mind he was looking through a vidcamera. Through the eyeholes of numerous fiends, carrying, sorting and exposing the signal.
For Vlad Projogin got his second big surprise as he felt a swift touch of inner fire.
The woman before him was a mage— and a rather powerful one!
But there was something else in her eyes. Something he couldn’t describe. He sensed that beneath Tanya Lawson’s cold iron and invisible armor was a living heart, tempered and hardened by years of loneliness.
This woman could be everything, Vlad thought in sudden confusion. A fierce enemy and a seductive lover. A cold-handed sniper and a friend like no other.
To Vlad all her firm curves cried out to him like trumpets of doom.
It took him long minutes to recover from the shock of his reaction to her. He forced himself to take note of her assistant— a huge Ogre-Mage in an expensive suit.
Then he sighed, shaking his head. Well, she’s here. She’s here and this means I must work like hell.
He forced his senses to come to order. Haven’t you ever seen blondies? Both dressed and undressed? What’s going on, man? Father Onphim would be very displeased and disappointed, if he only knew.
Suddenly Vlad realized he felt like a student facing a difficult exam. In feverish haste he checked all his steps aboard Borodino. All his actions had been in plain disobedience to the guidelines both sides had agreed upon.
He’d interrogated Dolgov. Had talks with all the men from the crew involved in the incident. All those things were strictly forbidden under the UWO agreement.
And now he trembled before that woman, who might trace his work and maybe— if he failed— would be his judge and executioner.
Yes, she looked very much unlike all the ordinary pretties, to whom Vlad could easily say “dinner tonight, baby?”
In fact, he could hardly imagine a male who would dare to do so. And he certainly wouldn’t attempt to break through Tanya Lawson’s armor without an entire heavy tank regiment behind him.
After a short time Admiral Amiriani appeared on the vidscreen, red as a boiled beet. Vlad listened patiently as he complained about their guest from the UWP.
“You see, Major? You see?”— The Admiral looked like he was pissing his trousers. “Such a damned bitch! Major, I urge you to stop her. It’s clear she’s here to place the blame on us, on me, on us all!!”
“Be calm, admiral,” Vlad said coldly. “If things turn to the worst, I’ll deal with her. Be sure of that.”
“I can be sure? You promise?” asked the Admiral, sounding like a small boy.
“I promise,” Vlad said, nodding grimly— and thought that for the first time in his career he might be making an intentionally false promise.
The vidscreen
turned pale and Amiriani was gone.
Vlad pressed his fingers to his temples. He felt uneasy and he hated himself for succumbing to such weakness.
Miserable fool! You looked at a cute face and were overwhelmed. Caked, by damn, caked! No, no, he would not give up, he would not…
He sat down. Calmed himself. His breathing slowed. His eyelids drooped. Vlad tried to cast himself into a soothing trance. But something suddenly broke through his concentration.
A small, practically unnoticeable thing in the shadows. It was?… movement? Or something else? A faint tremble of alarm. What could it be?
He felt as if something was lurking somewhere near— on Borodino itself.
And this Thing was strangely chained to him.
Vlad was stunned by this strange sensation, which was accompanied by an acute feeling of despair. All was lost. All was lost.
He clenched his teeth and the sensation vanished as quickly as it had come.
Hastily, he rose and exited the cabin. He decided he’d better get closer to Tanya Lawson and watch her every movement.
At first glance she’d seemed to be a worthy and most capable enemy. Assuming she was an enemy, that is. If so, she’d be someone to test him before his ultimate victory.
Now he was worried that if such a contest came that victory would not necessarily be assured.
And he’d have only his own weaknesses to blame.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Davyd dropped off the catwalk into the ship’s cargo hold. It was supposed to be not only empty, but sealed— that was the deal when the UWP charted the liner for Lawson.
However, stacked against one corner of the hold was a neat pile of large crates marked:
BORODINO
MEDICAL SUPPLIES
URGENT
Of course, the crates actually contained many forbidden luxuries for the Borodino’s high ranking officers: American food, drink and gifts for their wives from elegant Amer shops.
This was the sort of routine violation of security that Sigmund Hammer— the Stardove’s owner— was notorious for. And it was not only known by all but encouraged. How else would the brass on both sides receive such perks as Russian caviar or American whiskey?
