The Iron Admiral: Deception

by Greta van Der Rol

  “Come on, my dear. The sooner this meeting is over the sooner we can get back to other options.”

  Yes, indeed. ‘Other options’ sounded very inviting, in spite of the fact they’d been doing nothing else since she’d come on board. Breathing deeply, she followed him along the corridor to the foyer, where his

  guard stood to attention, and into the transit.

  Butcher waited in the hangar bay, along with a contingent of the grand admiral’s guard, all resplendent in dress uniform. She waited as the ceremonial necessities were dealt with, then Saahren directed her to the shuttle. Lifting the skirts of the gown she went up the ramp, Saahren behind her.

  “You look wonderful, Miss Marten,” Butcher said. “Truly beautiful.”

  “I expect you had a few things to do with the dress and the jewelry, SenComm,” she replied, smiling up at him. “As well as the flowers.”

  He chuckled. “I just made sure they were delivered.”

  The harnesses deployed from the seats and the shuttle launched. She watched the view screen while Saahren and Butcher talked last-minute business. Carnessa floated below, most of its sphere in darkness.

  The shuttle and its fighter escorts flew around the planet into the sunlight. Swirls of cloud hung over much of the sphere but this time the storms were in other latitudes. Ullnish basked in summer sunshine. Soon she could see the city’s sprawl around the river. Further to the west, the river Sher wound its way to the sea, down from the snow-capped peaks of the Bareback Mountains to Shernish Port. Was she homesick? Yes, a little. She was looking forward to seeing Xanthor; she had so many questions for him and he and his family would always be dear friends. But she’d never live in Shernish again. She glanced over at Saahren, his head bent and frowning, as he checked some detail with Butcher.

  Ullnish changed from a high level map to a child’s miniature into a real city, with streets and moving vehicles. The shuttle descended into the oval in front of the Suldan’s Palace, its curves and minarets glowing red in the sunlight. A phalanx of ptorix soldiers stood along the front of the palace.

  She looked at Saahren, eyebrows raised.What do I do now?

  “I’ll go first,” he said, “after the soldiers are out. You follow me and we proceed together.”

  “Shouldn’t Butcher be with you?”

  He rose to his feet. “You’re my consort. You walk beside me.”

  “Oh.” She stood. More than the grand admiral’s ptorix advisor; very soon his wife. She bit her lip. A first lesson in being the grand admiral’s lady.

  His escort had formed a corridor toward the palace entrance. They already stood at attention, weapons across their bodies.

  As soon as the grand admiral’s feet hit the polished limestone of the court the ptorix officer howled an order and his soldiers performed the equivalent of presenting arms—a jewel-hilted, curved sword in the left arms, a short beam weapon in the right. Saahren halted and saluted.

  His hand on Allysha’s elbow, he walked down between the human troopers. She tried hard to control the pounding of her heart. For the first time, she noticed news people, both ptorix and human, with cameras. She kept her attention on Saahren, reassuringly close beside her. He’d slowed his pace so she could match him, her heels clicking in time with his measured tread. She glanced up at him and he returned an encouraging smile, a mere lift of his lips. Butcher walked behind them, carrying a bag.

  The palace guard, resplendent in gold-encrusted dark blue robes, waited at the doors, weapons poised.

  At their head stood Ambassador Marratrax. She remembered him from the confrontation in Malmos, when Saahren had exposed the attack on Brjyl as a ptorix plot. His eyes glowed green for a moment as he looked at her.

  “Welcome to you, Grand Admiral. We are honored that you should join us.”

  “The honor is mine, Lord Marratrax. You will remember Miss Marten and also my adjutant Senior Commander Butcher.”

  She thrust out both her hands. Marratrax’s eyes whirled yellow for a moment as his fingers entwined hers, soft and gentle.

  “I greet you, Lord Marratrax,” she said in Ptorix.

  “And I, you. A little more than just an advisor this time,” he replied in the same language. His eyes sparkled, green-gold as the dress, amused.

  Flushing she stepped back as Marratrax turned back to Saahren.

  “If you will come this way, Grand Admiral.”

  Marratrax leading, they entered the cool, high-ceilinged confines of the palace. Allysha hadn’t been here before. She admired the decorations on walls and ceiling, stylized animals and birds, their eyes picked out in gold and precious stones. Xanthor would probably be able to tell her all about them. No-one spoke. Marratrax and his escort glided almost silently across the floor. Saahren had six of his escort with him. Their boots rang, echoing, in the entrance hall. The heels of Allysha’s shoes provided a soprano counterpoint.

  They stopped in the suldan’s ante-room. The main door, arched and ornate, clearly led to the Suldan’s office but lesser doors were to left and right.

  “Marratrax will take you to Xanthor,” Saahren said.

  Butcher handed her the bag he had carried from the shuttle. She nodded her thanks.

  “This way, Lady,” said Marratrax.

  The right hand door was open and in the entrance stood…

  “Xanthor!” She rushed forward, into his arms. And Ceta was there, with Bartok and Farex. She hugged each one, soft blue fur against her cheek, gentle tentacles waving on her shoulders.

  “So. You’ve come back with a different man,” Xanthor said.

  Allysha licked her lips, suddenly anxious. “He said you approved.”

  “He is very suitable, Allysha. He wanted my blessing on your marriage,” Xanthor said, his tentacles writhing gently on her shoulder. “It was perhaps a way of establishing his good intentions.”

  She frowned. “What about Jossur?”

  “He is an admiral, not a murderer.”

  They’d put a chair in the room for her. She sank down onto it. “But… You said, at that meeting in the University…”

  Xanthor’s fingers swirled and his eyes were blue.

  “I said what I was told—what I believed—was true. Later, when I started to think perhaps I had not been told the truth…” He lifted his arms, all four. “By then, I was not allowed to voice my concerns. I have seen the evidence. The planet was not bombarded. Your father died in a tragic accident. The cycle of life is often strange.” Xanthor’s tentacles swirled in a complex pattern. “And in war, truth is expedient.

  We on Carnessa cannot afford to alienate the Khophirate.”

  “You didn’t even tell me,” Allysha whispered.

  Xanthor put undulating tentacles on her shoulder. “You were so sure. You would not have believed me because you didn’t want to.”

  She sighed, deep and from the heart. “I guess I’ve learned that there’s no point in blaming anyone but me for the gulf between us when Papa died. I’m so sorry. But I’ve accepted it.” Yes, and forgiven herself, perhaps. Just a little. She shook her shoulders, shaking off the past. “What’s been happening, Xanthor?”

  Time passed as Allysha and Xanthor’s family traded stories. She told them about the ptorix decorations in the old mine.

  “I brought you these,” she said, placing the bag into Xanthor’s swaying top tentacles. “From Tisyphor.”

  Xanthor pulled out the carefully wrapped items one-by-one; the books and theghabra , exclaiming with pleasure. “They are truly beautiful, every one.”

  He left the diary until last. He opened the book in reverential fashion, read a few pages and sighed. “I will do my best to find those who should have them. I thank you most deeply.”

  The mere thought of the contents of the diary brought back memories of the laboratory, the ghastly howls of the dying ptorix. Her fault. She’d been too trusting of Jarrad. Still, that was the past. The future would have its own challenges.

  “I hope you can find Fyysor
’s family,” she said. “If not, they should go the University.”

  “Be assured I will do my best.”

  Butcher’s entrance saved her from any further introspection. He bowed his head briefly at the ptorix then turned to Allysha. ‘We’ve finished.”

  Her heart hammered. She’d never been so nervous, ever. First a divorce, and then a marriage.

  Saahren stood with Suldan Bentrax and Marratrax, towering over them. The golden bars on his shoulders and the triple lanyard strung across his breast glowed in the soft light. He beckoned her to him, a sparkle in his dark eyes.

  “Meet Suldan Bentrax.”

  She bowed, fingers interlaced. “Lord Suldan.”

  “You are Professor Marten’s daughter,” Bentrax said in burred Standard.

  “Yes, Lord Suldan.”

  His fingers swirled gently. “I attended some of your father’s classes.”

  She nodded, swallowing the emotion that welled unbidden.I’m sorry, Papa. She did so hope he would approve this time.

  “I have heard of your courage. At Brjyl and at Shernish University and again at the GPR laboratory.”

  His eyes swirled through blue and green and yellow. Then he twined his tentacles together and rocked toward her. “I thank you for all Qerrans.”

  Wow. The Suldan’s gesture was the sort of obeisance he would give to the Khophir. Her, Allysha Marten.

  Saahren saved her from having to speak. He glanced over at Butcher. “Fetch the prisoner.”

  Butcher directed a nod to the Chief Under Officer in charge of Saahren’s escort. He left the room with two men. Sean?

  The hint of a smile lurked around Saahren’s lips. He took her upper arm and guided her to a table against the wall. An ornate paper document lay there, with an old-fashioned pen.

  “Your divorce paper.” He pointed at a line at the bottom. “Sign here.”

  His eyes met hers. Thoughts tumbled through her brain. No joy, no sadness; perhaps just relief that it was finally over. And maybe a little bit of apprehension about what would happen next.

  He cleared his throat and nodded at the document, the words unsaid. Sign.

  She signed her name on the line.

  She turned as footsteps echoed. The two troopers had Sean between them, disguised of course and yet still recognizable. He looked well enough, except for the blossoming bruises on his right cheek and throat,

  but he flicked nervous eyes at Saahren.

  “The divorce papers, O’Reilly. Sign here.” Saahren pointed a rigid finger.

  Sean flashed a glance at her, throat muscles working. To her surprise, he said nothing, simply signed.

  She frowned. No smart-mouthed remarks? No snide comments about sharing assets?

  He straightened up and stared at her for a long moment, as if he was going to say something. In the end, he just gave her a slight nod and a jerk of a smile. She almost heard the unsaid words. Goodbye and good luck.

  “I’ve signed. You said I could go,” Sean muttered, his eyes on Saahren.

  “Chief, escort this…” he waved his fingers, “…to the door.”

  Sean stiffened as the troopers approached. “No need. I can see myself out.”

  Saahren’s brow arched. “I want to be sure you don’t leave with anything that doesn’t belong to you.”

  She watched Sean walk away between the troopers. Out of the door, out of her life. “You won’t hurt him?”

  “I promised.” He took her hand and smiled. One of Suldan Bentrax’s assistants picked up the document from the table and took it to the Suldan, who looked at it and nodded. The assistant applied a seal.

  Ambassador Marratrax turned to Saahren. “The divorce is final. We can proceed with the ceremony whenever you wish.”

  “Good.” Saahren took a step forward, drawing Allysha along with him. “Professor Xanthor?”

  Tentacles undulating, Xanthor presented Saahren with an ornately tooled box. He opened it and showed Allysha the contents. Two beautiful, ornate wedding bands.

  “I asked the Lord Admiral if I might have the honor of making them for you,” Xanthor said.

  She heard his quiet pride. Making jewelry was Xanthor’s hobby and he’d excelled himself. The rings were plaited platinum, gold and iron ore, designed for humans, not ptorix. They were simple and beautiful. Everybody had known about this wedding long before she had. And here she was, about to be married to one of the most senior men in the Confederacy hierarchy. She sighed.

  Saahren’s eyebrows shot up. He took her hand, her right in his left, and kissed it. “Allysha?”

  She smiled at him. “Memories. I’m ready.” She squeezed his hand. “Honestly.”

  The tension drained. “We can proceed, Lord Suldan.”

  Bentrax spoke the words of the marriage ceremony in Ptorix. Marratrax translated, Xanthor, Ceta, Farex and Bartok stood solemnly by as witnesses. Her mind in a whirl, Allysha barely heard the words.

  She answered mechanically. She hadn’t even had time to think about it. She’d been divorced for—what?—two minutes? Saahren slipped the ring onto her finger.

  The Suldan declared the ritual complete. Saahren stared down at her, deep into her heart, her soul. “My wife,” he murmured. “I feared this would never happen.”

  Butcher cleared his throat. “Aren’t you going to kiss the bride?”

  Saahren grinned and slipped his arms around her. “What a good idea.”

  She sighed and put her arms around his neck as his lips found hers.

  ChapterThirty-Six

  At last the media people had taken enough pictures. Saahren and his wife, Saahren and Bentrax, Saahren, Allysha and Xanthor’s family. It was as close as anyone could get to a ptorix-human marriage and Saahren was at pains to make sure both sides were aware of the implications. Bentrax, of course, understood as soon as he’d suggested to the ptorix leader that the marriage ritual should be conducted here.

  “Best make your farewells, Allysha,” Saahren said. “It’s time we returned toArcturus .”

  She nodded and joined her ptorix friends for a last fond embrace. Bentrax and Marratrax moved quietly beside Saahren. He looked between them into whirling blue eyes tinged with violet. “Bronx has disposed of O’Reilly,” said Marratrax. “I expect we will find his body in the Ull quite soon. Do you wish to be advised?”

  Dead already. And he hadn’t broken his promise to Allysha. A quiet suggestion to Bentrax that Bronx may be interested to know when O’Reilly was to be released and what he looked like, that was all. With a man like that, he’d always known he wouldn’t have to act himself. If Bronx hadn’t carried out the sentence, somebody else would have. “Yes. Please convey the news to my adjutant. I appreciate your offer. Very much.”

  Allysha returned to him, radiant and lovely. And his. The grin spread across his face again. They walked together between the ptorix guard back to the shuttle.

  She stared at the ring on her finger and then up at him. “I can’t believe I’m married.”

  He chuckled. “You are, believe me.”

  “That was wonderful to have Xanthor present. But it would have been nice to have my team there. And I expect some of your officers like Captain Pedder and Admiral Valperez will be a bit put out.”

  He squeezed her hand as the shuttle took off. “There will be other ceremonies. The Fleet will want some sort of event in Malmos. And my mother will never forgive me if I don’t submit to a proper marriage ritual on Ceres.”

  Her wonderful green eyes narrowed. “I won’t have to wear a native costume, will I?”

  He laughed. “No. I’ll wear my uniform and you can wear whatever you like.” His mother would try, but it wasn’t going to happen.

  The shuttle slowed and shaped to land, slipping gently between the walls of the hangar bay.

  “This way please, Sir, Ma’am,” Butcher said.

  Saahren caught his eye and the adjutant grinned. “You didn’t mean to keep it a secret, did you?”

  A full ship parade. Th
ousands of fleet crew and troops stood arrayed in full dress uniform. They filled the parade arena, rank upon rank of black uniforms, their officers in white, all facing a wide corridor that stretched up the center to a stage where the ship’s admirals and captains waited.

  ****

  “Gosh,” Allysha said. It was all she could manage. All those men and women, absolutely silent in that vast space.

  Saahren put his arm around her, a reassuring pressure at her waist. “This is for us.” He started forward.

  Admiral Valperez stepped to the podium.

  “A number of you have wondered what this parade is about. Well, I’m happy… no, delighted… to announce the marriage of Grand Admiral Saahren to his beautiful lady, Allysha Marten. The ceremony was conducted by the Suldan of Qerra two hours ago.”

  As they walked past each unit, it was called to attention by its commander; if they were troopers they presented arms. It was like a wave rolling forward with their advance. She hardly noticed the faces.

  Saahren’s arm steadied her, calmed her nerves. She’d have to get used to this. She glanced up at him and he smiled, fond and intimate, happier than she’d ever seen him.

  SenComm Ernshaw caught her eye. Beyond him stood Anna and Sirikit, Todd and Hassan. Anna’s face glowed with barely suppressed delight.

  “Chaka,” Allysha murmured, “may I?”

  He stopped. “SenComm Ernshaw, release your officers.”

  Ernshaw gave the order. While he himself stepped forward to shake Saahren’s hand, Anna crushed Allysha in a hug. “Congratulations. Oh, you look wonderful. What a beautiful dress.”

  Sirikit joined in to admire the dress and the ring, and Hassan gave her a swift hug and a fond kiss on the cheek. Todd stood where he was, mashing his lips.

  Allysha felt sorry for him. She hadn’t realized, hadn’t understood until Saahren had told her. For a moment his blue eyes met hers and she saw his loss, his final disappointment. His eyes dropped. She glanced at Saahren. No triumph, no smugness, no jealousy. He hadn’t reacted to Todd at all, simply stood, tall and erect, an indulgent smile on his lips, watching her.