The Iron Admiral: Deception

by Greta van Der Rol

  She lay back on the grass, supporting her weight on her elbows, knees bent. The sun shone warm on her hair and face. Another couple of days, the doctors said, and she could return to her Malmos apartment.

  And then what? She had no doubt that Sean’s friends would have found out where she was, that they’d try again. The protective measures would be even worse. She’d be surrounded by Fleet security people, escorted everywhere, never given a moment of freedom. Even here on the grass, they knew where she was. Guards hovered, never too far away.

  She heaved herself to her feet and dusted her hands on her trousers. She’d been manipulated for long enough. Time to take charge, get some answers. She needed to deal with the ghost of her father, talk to Xanthor and confront Sean. After that, she could think about Grand Admiral Chaka Saahren.

  Two days, the doctors had said. She walked slowly down the slope back to her private bungalow. Two days and Vlad would come to take her back to Malmos. She’d be guarded around the clock. She was here, too, of course. The hotel grounds were as secure as current technology could provide and she herself was kept under direct surveillance. Even so, it would probably be easier to escape from here, where the surveillance was at least not so intrusive. Her steps slowed and she frowned. Sneak off; is that what she intended? Yes. The contract was ended; she was a free agent. She almost smiled at the thought of Chaka’s face if she told him she was going home, alone. He wouldn’t allow it, not for a minute.

  A bored guard stood outside her unit. She smiled at him and went inside, into another tastefully decorated, impersonal interior but here the windows were real, with views of the gardens. Allysha turned on some music—Manessa’s Fantasies, complex and hypnotic—and turned her mind to planning her escape.

  ****

  “Grand Admiral, I have a code five request for a conference from Admiral Leonov.”

  Saahren sat up straight. “Put it through.”

  There was a momentary delay as Arcturus sealed the room and then Leonov’s image appeared. He looked tense and very serious. “You’re not going to like this, Chaka.”

  Icy fingers sent shivers down Saahren’s spine. “What?”

  “She’s gone. We’re not sure when but we think yesterday.”

  Not again. Surely not again. Saahren’s nostrils flared but he kept his voice flat. “Where? How?”

  “She’s left a message. We don’t think anybody has grabbed her. Best if you look at that message first.”

  “Put it on.”

  Leonov’s image remained at one side and Allysha appeared.

  She spoke the words herself. Saahren thought she stood near the ocean, on grass. He could hear the muted roar of surf and her hair blew a little in the wind. His heart sped up at the sight of her. The bruises were gone and she’d lost that pallor.

  “By the time you get this, I’ll be on my way. I know you’ll be angry.” She sighed, eyes pleading. “But please don’t try to stop me. There are things I have to know, have to find out for myself, ghosts I have to

  put to rest. After that… well, I can get on with living again.” She paused. “I haven’t been abducted and I’m fine. Fit and well. I know you can find me. I’m asking you to trust me.” She smiled. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise.”

  The image disappeared.

  He stared at his hands, splayed on the desktop. Just when he thought he’d won. He’d been planning to return to Malmos next week to see the President. Or that was the excuse. She was too trusting, altogether too trusting. Did she think she was safe? That attempts to take her would stop? Why? That was the important question. What did they want from her?

  “She recorded that on the cliffs near the hospital.” Leonov sat in his office, behind his desk. Outside, the Malmos skies promised rain. “I sent agents to pick her up. She rigged the system in her bungalow to pretend that she was still there. Used holograms of herself, doing usual day-to-day activities, to fool human eyes. And the sensors… well, you know how easy she’d find that.”

  The subterfuge would have been child’s play for her. Nevertheless. “Are all your people totally incompetent? You know what she can do. Couldn’t you at least have put some people in to watch her?”

  “All the surveillance systems were operational. We were keeping her safe, not keeping her prisoner.”

  True enough. No point in blaming people. “When did she go?”

  “According to the system, about a day ago.”

  “She’s gone to Shernish,” he said. “That’s obvious.”

  “Yes.” Leonov chewed his lip. “I wish we knew what they want her for.”

  “You still say it’s GPR chasing her?”

  “Nothing’s happened to change that perception.”

  His first instinct was to send people to bring her back. And yet she’d asked him not to, to trust her. And if he didn’t? If he dragged her back? “Any sign of O’Reilly?”

  “No. But we’re still looking.”

  “It doesn’t matter, anyway, I guess. Find her, Vlad. But give her room, if you can.”

  ****

  Allysha sat in a booth in the transit lounge on Piermont station, in orbit above Melchior. The planet hung in the view screen, a gibbous ball. Patches of light glittered on its night side, especially along the margins of Atlantis, the largest continent. In places clouds obscured the ground.

  Oblivious to the view, she sipped at a glass of juice while checking the people in the lounge. The tiny sensors in her earrings collected information around her and relayed warnings to her implant. All clear so far. Business people chatted or read news sheets, a couple let their kids jump on the furniture, a number of people snatched a quick bite to eat or a drink from the refreshment counter or the vending machines.

  She caught her breath at the sight of a couple of uniforms and let it out again. Relaxed fleeters, being transferred or going on leave. No sign of pursuit. Not so far, anyway. She flicked a mental eye to the boarding announcements. The flight to Kentor would board in ten minutes. The seconds crawled by. The father of the rioting children had finally taken them in hand; now they were crying.

  Her ticket flashed; the flight to Kentor was ready to board. At last. The tension in her shoulders eased, she picked up her bag and walked as casually as she dared, along with a few hundred other people, to the airlock at gateway seven. She’d paid a first class fare; or rather, Marian Blaxland had. Blonde wig, blue lenses, high heels, tight dress and an ID card. And, of course, a personal privacy shield to screen her

  from detection. The false identity was the easy part. She’d change to something else on Kentor and book

  a passage to Carnessa from there. She’d be home in a few days.

  ****

  Sean followed Orac out of the derelict house into an equally decrepit street lined with collapsing houses.

  The house where Allysha lay, probably dead by now, was invisible, two blocks away. Dead. He’d never meant to hurt her. But now he’d have to be in really big trouble himself.

  “The gunship’s still there,” Orac said, checking his sensors. ‘We’d better clear off.”

  “Where to?” Sean hoped his nervousness wasn’t obvious.

  Orac’s face was blank, devoid of emotion. “Tepich will want to know.” He turned to the small man in the dark clothing. “Hang around and keep an eye on those troops. Let me know if they move or if anybody’s on our trail.” The man nodded and jogged off between the houses.

  Tepich. Shit, oh shit. Sean’s knees turned to water. Just the mention of the man’s name was enough to make him tremble. The third fellow, Brinsen, pushed him in the back. “Let’s go, O’Reilly. We don’t keep the boss waiting.”

  He hurried along between them past the rotting garbage, the blank windows, his heart thundering in his chest. “Look, give me a minute will you?” he said, slowing his pace. “I need a leak.”

  “Sure.” Brinsen followed him into an alley, stood behind him as he did his business against a wall. They were keeping an eye on him, n
o doubt about it.

  A few more blocks on, Orac nudged him down into a subway station and onto a half-full commuter train. They sat on a bench, one on either side of him. Three stations on, Orac said, “We get off here.”

  Sean jumped out of the train ready to run but Brinsen caught his arm. “You stay with us, O’Reilly.” He twitched aside his coat so Sean could see the weapon.

  Outside, late afternoon light cast shadows in a busy street. A tram rattled along a line in the center of the roadway. People filled the sidewalks; locals in business suits, women with shopping and many Fleet uniforms. This might be his chance. But Brinsen guided him over to the wall, out of the traffic flow. Fuck.

  If his heart beat any faster, he’d explode.

  Music and laughter drifted in the air just ahead. A bar. What he’d give for a drink right now. Orac had just passed the doorway when a group of men erupted into the street. Two of them were fighting, thumping at each other, a fleeter and a local, surrounded by barrackers egging them on. Orac couldn’t get

  through. Sean darted sideway. Brinsen lunged for him and struck a fleeter, who smacked the man in the stomach with a clenched fist. Sean ran, darting between people on the crowded pavements, heading for a

  corner. He slowed down, panting. So far so good. Judging by the noise the struggle had turned into a full-on brawl. He sauntered down the street, listening to the approaching sound of a police siren. Two blocks away he boarded a tram.

  He hung onto a strap in a packed carriage, swaying with the other commuters as the vehicle rounded a bend. He’d have to get off this planet and fast. No. Not smart. They’d head straight for the space station for sure. He needed a supermarket, a store where he could buy things, disguise himself, somewhere to hole up. The tram was passing into the theatre district. It was too early for patrons but displays showed trailers, restaurants advertised meal and ticket combinations. The tram slowed, forcing him to adjust his footing to keep his balance. Maybe the gods of chance were smiling for a change. A theatre supplier; just

  what he needed. He jumped off at the next stop and hurried into the store.

  Two days later Sean used a stolen credit chip at the Gueri Nestor space port to buy himself a ticket to Chollarc, one eye over his shoulder for hovering thugs. He’d changed his appearance with hair dye and clothing bought at the theatre suppliers. High-heeled boots made him look taller and altered the way he walked. He’d stuck on a small mustache, and padded his waist and cheeks. Even if Tepich’s thugs were around, he was pretty comfortable they wouldn’t recognize him. He was Albrecht Dimmler, dealer in ptorix jewelry, off to Chollarc looking for bargains.

  He sat on a bench in a corner and fiddled with a coaster. He would have loved a drink but it wouldn’t be a good idea. Get off this world, get out of here, get away from Tepich. He was still nervous, of course

  he was, who wouldn’t be with Tepich after him, probably gunning for him now. Oh, Allysha. He hadn’t wanted that, hadn’t wanted to hurt her. She had to be dead. What a way to die, in pain and filthy.

  Although he’d showered and changed in a rented hotel room as soon as he could, he fancied he could still smell the acrid stink of vomit.

  He rubbed nervous hands along his thighs once too often and forced himself to stop. A figure appeared in the doorway, silhouetted against the brighter lights in the main hall. The man paused, looking around.

  Sean’s heart hammered, then eased to a normal rhythm when the man stepped inside. A military uniform, Fleet police. The Confederacy battle cruiser was still out there, he knew. He couldn’t see it, it was in a higher orbit, but a steady stream of traffic went up and down; transports for the troops. The city was full of them, all in uniform, chatting up the local girls, filling the bars. He was grateful. If the group of brawling fleeters hadn’t come out of that bar at just the right moment, Orac and Brinsen would have taken him to Tepich. He shivered at the thought.

  ChapterTwenty-Seven

  Allysha walked out of the arrival gate at Ullnish space port, looking over the gaggle of people waiting at the barrier to greet travelers. Nobody she knew, nobody who appeared out of place. Hard to believe that not much more than half a year ago, she’d sidled in here with Sean, escaping from inter-species violence. Now the place was calm and orderly. Bag in hand, she walked casually over to the train station where a train waited at the platform, ready to leave, its timetable coordinated with the shuttle. She climbed into a first class compartment with a number of other people, human and ptorix. Most of them would alight in Ullnish.

  The train pulled out, silent and smooth, into a Carnessan day. Allysha smiled to herself. This was home.

  The gravity felt right, the air tasted right. White clouds drifted on the horizon over the sea, far off to the left. The light had a different quality here, too. Everything was crisp and clean and well-defined, sharp almost. She stared out at the suburbs below the level of the train, here a human district, later a ptorix area, familiar and yet not. She’d never spent much time in Ullnish but the architecture was what she’d expect and the trees were the same as the ones she’d grown up with.

  Most of the passengers alighted during the short stop at Ullnish Central Station; no new person entered the compartment. As the train pulled out, she sank back into the upholstered seat and watched the countryside slide by beyond the suburbs. Summer was fading and the fields were golden. Beasts gathered under trees to escape midday’s heat. Soon, outlying parts of Shernish appeared, low houses with roofs that collected energy from the sun. Next stop home.

  She stepped off the train into the echoing hall of Shernish Station, her shoes clicking on the polished sandstone floor. At this hour, the place was quiet with only a few people about; mothers with small children going shopping, a few elderly couples. She scanned her ticket at the gateway and passed into the

  street.

  Lissa Dooren, her ID said, a graduate student about to start a course at Shernish University in human-ptorix politics. Her black hair was tied back in a silver clasp and she wore dark brown contact lenses. Dressed in loose slacks and a long, loose top, she’d fit in with the rest of the human students.

  Walking purposefully through the human district she headed up the hill toward Lobok Avenue. Although everything was peaceful, small signs of conflicts past were evident. Here boarded up windows, there a burnt garden and charred front door. Allysha shivered. Things must have deteriorated after she and Sean escaped.

  She left the main road and entered Seaview Way, where the houses faced the ocean, sparkling-bright down below. The afternoon breeze blew briskly off the water, causing her loose clothing to flap around her body while the scent of sea spray filled the air. Number nineteen looked empty, its windows stared, blank and lifeless, and weeds grew in the garden beds. A ‘for sale’ sign hanging on the front gate flapped spasmodically in the breeze. Sean had sold the place, she knew, but maybe whoever bought it left because of the anti-human violence. Or something. That would make things easier. She grinned. She’d gone down a long road since last she walked down this garden path, innocent and trusting. Now, breaking and entering was easy. She stepped through the front gate and strolled to the back of the house.

  Beyond a paved patio, dense shrubbery all but hid the limestone crag that rose vertically behind the house. A fountain built into the rock stood silent. When it was running, water fell from a carved sea serpent’s head into a raised pool. She’d had the sculpture commissioned specially. Safe from prying eyes, she indulged in a few nostalgic thoughts. Warm summer evenings, the gentle babble of water in the pool, soft lights, a glass of wine, a zephyr from the ocean. It had been a nice place to live. Maybe she could buy it back. No. Whatever happened, she wouldn’t be living in Shernish again. She had work to do. Better move on.

  Standing at the back door she said the word for ‘open’ in Ptorix. As the door slid aside she smiled.

  She’d set that up as a convenience. No one knew the device existed, let alone know how to disable it.

  The
passage to the right led to what used to be her work room, cool and airy with a view of the courtyard. Her work table still stood against the wall, the chair neatly pushed in. The shelves were empty,

  the machines gone. All the surfaces were long undisturbed, covered with a fine patina of dust. Allysha snorted. Sean probably pedaled her gear to somebody for scrap metal. Just as well she’d kept the special stuff hidden.

  She pressed several spots next to her desk in a particular sequence. A piece of the wall slipped backwards and along, revealing a cupboard that contained a number of small items; tools, gadgets and a couple of data sticks. She placed the items into her bag and pressed a button inside the cupboard, returning the rock seamlessly back into place. Her bag on her shoulder, she left the same way she had come, making sure to lock up as she did so. She lingered for just a moment in the patio by the pool to whisper a last farewell.

  The Castle hotel, just below the University’s great gates in Port Road, was probably a bit up-market for a student, but Lissa Dooren could afford a private room for a few weeks. She explained to the clerk at the desk that she’d be looking for something cheaper and longer term, but the hotel would provide a good base for her search. She went upstairs to a clean room with its own washroom, a good sized bed, a

  desk and chair. Allysha opened the curtains, revealing the blank wall on the opposite side of the alley.

  There really hadn’t been any point in paying extra for the view down Port Road.

  Xanthor wouldn’t be home for hours yet and she didn’t want to risk going to the university. She sat down and checked her gadgets, making sure the brooches and pins that disguised sensors directed output to her implant. Just in case, she added a few small pins that could track her. You never knew when you might need someone to know where you’d gone. If anything, she was even better at this than she used to be, probably because she knew more about surveillance. She checked each one before she put them away, hidden amongst her tools.