Games of Command

by Linnea Sinclair

  “That won’t be necessary. One of my nurses can see her to her quarters.”

  “I’m sure your staff has more-pressing concerns. I’ll see her back to her quarters myself.” He stared down at her.

  “Admiral. Captain Sebastian will be released if and when I say she is released, and if and when she is, she will be released to no one other than one of my medical staff. I’m sure you have more pressing concerns.”

  “I don’t. I’ll be here at oh-nine-hundred.”

  Sass didn’t think he would murder her in front of witnesses. Obviously, neither did Eden. “I’ll advise you at oh-eight-thirty,” the CMO said, “if she’s ready to be released. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do.”

  Kel-Paten’s icy gaze went from Eden to her, causing a chill to flit up Sass’s spine. But no, not a chill. Something else. Something different.

  Because his gaze wasn’t the least bit icy at all.

  SICK BAY

  Sass let out a sigh she hadn’t realized she was holding in when the door closed behind the Tin Soldier. Then she lunged for her clothes. There was a lot of work yet to be done.

  “How much were you able to get?” Eden offered her the small datadrive.

  Sass finished pulling on her boots, then accepted it, holding it in her line of sight and squinting. “Won’t know ’til I get back into this thing. I don’t think it’s wise for me to use your office in case you-know-who pops back in. Can I use Cal’s in the back?”

  Cal’s office it was. Eden brought in another cup of coffee and left Sass alone to unravel the data.

  She made a backup copy first, in case fail-safes or traps existed. There were over fifty directories, some with names she recognized but most with only numbers. Nothing blatantly labeled PsyServ Secrets.

  A block of files with Triad Med Ministry transit tags caught her eye. They were also security-locked. She unlocked them, bundled them, and shot them over to Eden’s personal in-box.

  Twenty minutes later a noise caused her to look up. Eden, in her doorway. And not with fresh coffee, damn! But a distinctly pinched look about her eyes.

  “Trouble?”

  “From the odds and ends you sent me, it looks as if PsyServ has experimented with implants for over twenty years, most of which failed and killed the recipient. Serafino’s must be one of the more advanced designs.”

  “Wonderful. For Serafino, that is. At least his won’t malfunction—”

  “It is. The fact that he’s able to bypass the implant means it’s breaking down. When it finally does, it’ll kill him.”

  “Not wonderful. How do we fix it?”

  “That tidy bit of information isn’t in the stuff you sent me. Any more?”

  Sass made a quick scan of the files. “Don’t see anything here. Maybe it’s inside one of these. Can you work with what I’ve given you?”

  Eden sat down with a sigh. “I can increase Serafino’s telepathic access time. But I can’t remove the implant, no.”

  “Is it possible Kel-Paten doesn’t have that answer?”

  “We still have more than we had before, Tasha. And if Serafino can be more of, well, himself, maybe he can help.”

  “I’ll send you my next download shortly,” Sass told her as Eden headed for the door.

  “Give me five minutes,” Eden said, glancing at her watch. “I need a cup of tea. Desperately.”

  “Got it.” Sass turned back to the comp and resumed scanning the files. The medical terminology meant nothing to her, but she dutifully unencrypted what she could and sent it to Eden.

  Four hours later they were no further along except for an added appreciation of the deviousness of PsyServ.

  This time when Eden appeared in her doorway, she had both tea and coffee.

  “I can now understand why Triadian telepaths kill themselves rather than be recruited,” Eden said.

  Sass blew across the top of her mug. Small steam clouds swirled. “I really thought we’d find the answers here.”

  “We did,” Eden reassured her. “Just not all of them.”

  “What do we do now?”

  Eden thought for a moment. “I can make some adjustments on Serafino with a sonic laser tomorrow, before we hit Panperra. That should increase his access time and slow down the implant’s deterioration.”

  “What about this Faction? And what about the admiral’s involvement?”

  “Those are command decisions, Tasha,” Eden said.

  “Command’s damned tired and hungry,” Sass growled. “I don’t like this, Eden. It was so much easier before the Alliance. At least we were relatively sure who our enemies were.” She looked at Eden. “How accurately can you read him, being he may have this scrambler installed? You’ve hinted that he’s more human than we all think.”

  “I can’t rule out that he might be programmed to appear more human as a cover.”

  “So you’re telling me you can’t read him at all.”

  “Not reliably.”

  “Can Serafino?”

  “Once I get him fully functional, better than I can. I’ve asked him the same questions, by the way.”

  “Because you’re concerned you can’t read Kel-Paten.”

  “Because I’m concerned,” Eden told her, “that what I’m reading might be wrong. In which case he’s masking something serious. But if I’m reading him correctly…”

  “If you are?” Sass urged her.

  “We’ve seriously misjudged him. It’s not an easy position.”

  “You’re saying there’s a chance Serafino’s wrong and the admiral may be on our side in this?” Sass asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t let me work in the dark. It’s too dangerous for all of us.”

  Eden turned her mug in her hands before speaking. “By tomorrow I should have Serafino’s telepathic time increased. We’ll have to schedule another meeting. I’ll get Serafino to read him and see if he can unravel that inconsistency I sense.”

  “Just one inconsistency?” As tired as she was, Sass picked up on that.

  Eden closed her eyes. “Just one,” she said finally. “When he’s with you.”

  “I’m the inconsistency?”

  “That’s when I get the conflicting readings. When he’s focused on you.”

  Sass glanced at the comp screen. “Eden, he has a whole set of files on me. I didn’t bother to open them because I thought Serafino was the issue here. But Serafino did say that he thought I was brought on board for Kel-Paten to handle. If what we have here is a list of acceptable fatal accidents with my name on them, then that might be enough for me to contact the U-Cees for assistance when we get to Panperra.”

  “Do you want to take a break? I can have the galley deliver something.”

  Sass glanced at her watch. It was almost 1800. “I was hoping to relax with a meal and a beer after we decided there was nothing more with Serafino, but we’ve just opened up a whole other can of frinkas, and this one’s got my name on it. So bring me whatever’s quick and easy.”

  Sass sipped at the mug of hot soup Eden brought and opened up the files, one after another. Most she recognized as her official U-Cee personnel files and even—gods, was he thorough!—an old report on the academy coursework UCID had concocted as hers. Just how long was he keeping tabs on her—and why?

  A chill ran up her spine. Did Kel-Paten know not only who she was but who she wasn’t? His files on her were only the official ones, the ones designed to create Tasha Sebastian. She found nothing on Lady Sass. That was of little comfort, however. Just because she didn’t find them didn’t mean they didn’t exist. Or that he didn’t know about Zanorian, Gund’jalar, and Lethant.

  It would bother her if he found out the truth about her unsavory past associations. Oddly—or perhaps not so oddly, Sass being Sass—she realized she could handle his being her assassin far better than she could handle his disdain.

  Shaking her head at her own musings, she returned to her work. The next group of files contained tra
nsit-tagged downloads from different times and sources. They were coded so that new data automatically appended to the parent file whenever it entered the system. It was a common method.

  But why Kel-Paten kept a transit-tag file on her was a mystery. Until she opened and read it.

  For one very long moment she sat frozen in disbelief, a series of conflicting emotions churning through her. Then she was on her feet, lunging toward Eden’s office, swearing in every language she knew.

  SICK BAY, DR. FYNN’S OFFICE

  When Eden saw Tasha striding through the main area of sick bay, she knew something was wrong. For one thing, it completely blew Tasha’s cover story of being sick. And second, there was always the remote chance that Kel-Paten would come in. Eden’s glass-fronted office provided no place to hide.

  Tasha didn’t try to hide. She plopped down into the chair across from Eden’s desk, her eyes wide in amazement. “This is unbelievable. It makes no sense.” She waved one hand in the air. “But then again, it makes perfect sense.”

  “What?” Eden asked.

  Tasha picked up Eden’s teaspoon and pointed it at her. “I thought at first that this might be part of his cover. That he created all these log entries in the past few weeks. But they go back years, Eden. Since I was on the Sarna Bogue!”

  “What entries?”

  Tasha ignored her question. “He’d have to have a phenomenal memory to do that. Granted, he probably does. But he’d also have to assume that I’d break into his systems and download these files, just to throw me off the track. That would be assuming a lot, even for Kel-Paten. Wouldn’t you say?”

  “I might if I knew what you were talking about,” Eden replied patiently.

  Tasha gave her a look as if she couldn’t comprehend why Eden wasn’t comprehending. “The log entries, of course.”

  “Oh. What log entries?” She was too tired to hide her sarcasm.

  “Kel-Paten’s. The ones he’s been dictating to me. For twelve years.”

  Eden sat back in her chair. “Oh.” Like that should explain everything.

  “Yeah. No shit. Oh.”

  “Tasha—!”

  “I’m sorry. Here.” She tossed a crystalline disk at Eden. “Here’s a small sample. Take a look and let me know what you think.”

  Perhaps log entries wasn’t the most accurate description, Eden noted as she read. Love letters might be more like it. Most written as captain’s personal logs, since he was a captain when he first saw Tasha on the Bogue twelve years before. They were very personal observations of what he was feeling, dreaming, and hoping for:

  Captain’s Personal Log…encrypt code SBSTN…subsequent encrypt code TASHA…transit tag this and all subsequent coded logs for delivery to TransGal Marine Depot 31 UPON MY DEMISE…Append…deliver to United Coalition HQ Varlow attention Lieutenant Tasha Sebastian…Append…deliver to U-Cee Huntership Asterion’s Star attention Commander Tasha Sebastian…Append…deliver to U-Cee Huntership Regaliaat tention Captain Tasha Sebastian…Append…deliver to Captain Tasha Sebastian, Alliance Huntership Vaxxar…

  Datestamp 351904.2

  It’s been four days since we first met and I still don’t know more than your last name. That I learned from the patch on your jacket: Sebastian. Gods, woman, I need to call you something more than that. My green-eyed vixen? Do you know how you haunt me? Do you know how I’ve damned myself for not removing you from that U-Cee supply ship four days ago?

  You probably thought I was angry over coming away empty-handed. You locked your ship down very well, scrambling its codes with a flair that’s more than impressive. Given time, I could have unlocked it—I always can. But standing on that bridge, I realized that your cargo and your ship’s military data were not what I wanted at all.

  The Triad doesn’t take political prisoners—how many times have I heard that? But this wouldn’t have been a political action. This would’ve been purely personal. But in that area my cowardice is rivaled by none. So I walked away. It is an action I will regret for as long as I live.

  I cannot accept that I will never see you again. I will find you. If it takes the rest of my life, I will find you.

  Captain’s Personal Log, Datestamp 350508.6…encrypt code TASHA…

  You have my hearty approval for your transfer to Asterion’s Star! Tasha, I’m so proud of you. Your first assignment on a U-Cee huntership. I could tell you they’re not half as good as the Triad. But you suffer because of my cowardice. Would you have hated me if I’d pulled you from the Bogue? Possibly. In the meantime, you can run circles around the U-Cees. I know you will. Hell, woman, you ran circles around me on that supply ship.

  I’ve read your personnel files, your academy records. Top of your class, all the way. You have no idea how much I respect that. Your family’s money could have paved an easy route for you, but you’ve chosen the harder one. I respect that even more.

  I miss you, Tasha. I miss the way you wrinkle your nose. I miss your smile. It’s been four months since I’ve seen you, and the holos my agents bring back to me don’t carry your energy.

  I may have to engineer an attack on the Asterion’s Star just to see you again.

  Captain’s Personal Log, Datestamp 381022.2…encrypt code TASHA…

  I’m sitting here in the bowels of Antalkin Station and I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again. I’m recording with an overlay note that should append to my personal files, all of which will be sent to you. Very shortly, I think.

  The Illithians staged a brilliant ambush. I don’t know if we received bad information or I was just being more stupid than usual. In any case, they almost took the Vax, but my ship maneuvered out of their reach. Now it’s me they’re after because—with station comps down—I stayed behind. I’m the only thing—person—that can delete our military data from the station’s banks so the Irks can’t get it.

  But that’s…that’s not the point. The point is they managed a couple good shots at me. I’m not as indestructible as Triad intelligence would have you believe. Though you and the U-Cees probably have that figured out by now. Sometimes I wonder just who we’re fooling with all this cyber shit.

  Things don’t look optimistic at the moment. I’ve found a hiding place, but I’m sure it’s only temporary. They have a couple of teams looking for me. I’m flattered. Twenty to thirty Irks combing a dead station for me. I kept moving as long as I could, but I’ve run out of energy. And time.

  Tasha, gods, I’ve run out of time with you, haven’t I? All these years I’ve had dreams of taking you to Tygaris—we could play the tables. I know you’re hell at Starfield Doubles.

  But it’s not going to happen now.

  Tasha, I’m so tired. I miss you so much.

  I have to move again. I hear…something.

  I love you.

  And then, a more recent entry…

  Admiral’s Personal Log, Datestamp 460310.9…encrypt code TASHA…

  I don’t know where you found that No, No, Bad Captain shirt. Nor do I know where you found those pink sweatpants. But sweet holy gods, Tasha, you don’t know how close I came to totally losing it and making more of a fool of myself than I already have.

  It seems all I’m able to do in your presence is stare at you like some stupid schoolboy. I just want to talk to you. I’ve been trying so hard to reach you, but I’m so afraid, and the gods know if you found out you’d probably think it hysterically funny…but I’m so afraid of losing you. I don’t know how close I can get. I tell myself all the time that you’re here with me on the Vax and I should be thankful for that! It’s more than I ever thought I deserved. I know where you are, I know you’re safe, I know I can protect you.

  And I know to some extent I’m driving you crazy. You think I’m following you around. You’re right. I am. I just need to be with you, Tasha.

  After we handle this Serafino situation, we’ll go to Tygaris. I know I’ve been saying that for years. Even Ralland’s tired of listening to me. But I mean it this time.

&nbs
p; I’ve dreamed about this, Tasha. I need to make it come true. I have to ask you. And I have to figure out another way to keep you from playing racquetlob with that godsdamned lieutenant. Damn it, Tasha, don’t you know what he wants from you?

  I mean…that is, I want the same thing, but, Tasha, I love you, and I don’t care what he tells you, he doesn’t. He couldn’t. Not as much as I do. And not for as long as I have.

  Eden blanked the screen and looked at Tasha. The captain distractedly twirled the teaspoon on the desktop. Eden cleared her throat.

  “Interesting, eh?” Tasha asked, but the flippancy in her tone didn’t quite match the seriousness in her eyes. Or the uncomfortable aura Eden strongly sensed around her. Tasha was more troubled than Eden remembered in quite some time.

  “I’m relieved to know I’m not as bad an empath as I thought,” Eden replied.

  “This is what you were talking about a couple of days ago.”

  Eden nodded. “Kel-Paten has a hard time controlling his emotions around you. I just wasn’t sure why.”

  “And you are now? What about that scrambler?”

  “That doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel things. It just means I might not be able to get a true reading.” She tapped her screen. “But these do seem to answer the question about any recent changes in his emo-programs. Like you said, I can’t see him fabricating twelve years of log entries on the unlikely chance you’d stumble over them. Plus, the datestamps—you did check for forgeries?”

  “Genuine.” Tasha sounded almost disappointed.

  “Then I think I can say his logs accurately state what he feels—or believes he feels.” Eden damned the fact that Triad Medical had so little information on biocybes and none at all on Kel-Paten’s first sixteen, full-human years.

  Tasha closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair. “Those logs are tagged to be sent to me only after his death. I had no right reading them.”

  “You didn’t go looking for them. There were circumstances—”

  “The hell with circumstances!” Tasha rasped. “I feel like a total shit for some of the things I’ve said to him.”

  “He might be relieved to hear that. You could always ask him to go to Tygaris.”