“That,” Davis said, “is both insane and the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Fenaday turned a cold look on Davis. “I’m a desperate man, Ambassador. You find me a way down onto that planet with freedom of movement, or I’ll do it myself and you won’t like the results.”
Davis and Fenaday stood toe-to-toe, unblinking.
“Ambassador, shouldn’t you be off somewhere kissing the appropriate posteriors?” Mmok asked.
Davis shot him a murderous look, then spun on his heel, heading for the exit and his nervous staff.
It seemed to cheer Mmok immensely.
Fenaday gave the cyborg a sour look. “You’re a lot of help.”
Mmok shrugged. “He’s never going to do anything for us anyway.”
“Unfortunately true,” Telisan said, “but we did not need another enemy.”
“He won’t cross Mandela,” Mmok replied. “No one does.”
Further conversation was forestalled as the naval officer returned and conducted them to a luxurious suite where they could rest for a few hours. He also offered to take them on a tour of the space station. Fenaday sent Telisan, with Rask and an ASAT for an escort. The others stayed with Fenaday and helped Mmok search the rooms for surveillance devices. They found and disabled six of them.
The Army aide-de-camp showed up at their quarters on schedule, which provoked a loud discussion with Denshi/Navy security in the lobby, before they were let in. Two hulking troopers the size of bears accompanied an Olympian Army Lieutenant. The Lieutenant wore a slate-gray dress-uniform complete with fine chain-mail epaulets, a blood-red sash and an ornate holstered pistol. The soldiers with him wore city-camouflage uniforms, body armor and carried riot guns.
“Sorry sir,” the officer said. “I’ll have to search you. Just routine, sir.”
“Of course,” Fenaday replied. Expecting this, he had not tried to hide a weapon.
After the brief but professional frisk, they left the guest quarters, heading for the small lobby area under the unhappy eyes of blue-uniformed station security. Dominici’s soldiers and the Navy/Denshi contingent stared stonily at each other as the lieutenant bent over the desk, signing some form. Fenaday, standing unarmed in their midst, felt vulnerable.
A large, open shuttle car rested on its magnetic rail in the ten-meter-wide tubeway. It bore OSDF Army markings and the same slate gray of the officer’s uniform. They piled into the ten-person car with the guards facing outward in the front and rear. The Lieutenant sat with his hand on his sidearm, eyes roaming over the corridor, other rail cars and the few station crew in sight. Noiselessly, the car pulled forward into the traffic. They changed levels and directions, seemingly at random. Fenaday looked about at the stations and shops that lined the tubeway but quickly lost his orientation. As they came to one industrial area, an Army soldier stepped out from the maze of tan and silver piping and waved them down. He leaned in, whispering urgently but quietly to the officer. Fenaday noticed a fresh burn mark on the man’s armor. The air smelled faintly of smoke. In the distance Fenaday saw some more soldiers moving through the catwalks and piping.
The Lieutenant gave the soldier a quick order, and the party backtracked, heading for another corridor.
“What’s happening?” Fenaday asked, looking in all directions.
“Nothing to worry about sir,” the officer replied. “Just routine.”
Fenaday pressed his lips together, saying nothing.
The cart backed off, and they took an elevator to next deck and drove on. Eventually, they reached a checkpoint area filled with soldiers. After they debarked, the Lieutenant spoke to an officer at the desk. A squad of armored men trotted out to take the car they had just arrived in. There was a visible rise in tension. The officer and two troopers walked Fenaday past other guards and checkpoints, until they arrived at an ornate set of wood covered doors bearing the insignia of the Army, a sword upright in the middle of a DNA strand.
“Have a good evening, sir,” said the officer. “These men will be waiting for you when you leave. The sergeant at the last desk we passed will call for me.” He put a card into a slot, and the doors whooshed open. Fenaday noted that the wood veneer masked the thick armor of the doors. They’d withstand explosive decompression or gunfire.
When they closed, Fenaday’s guards remained on the other side. He walked into a space more like a hotel suite than the office he anticipated. A small table on a plush white rug was set with candles, a bottle of white wine and two glasses.
Fenaday turned at a sound from the adjoining room to the left. Its door opened. Dominici stepped out from what was evidently her bedroom from the furniture he glimpsed. She wore a diaphanous robe, hiding only the details of her body. She smiled at his surprise. “Not used to female admirers, Captain? I would have thought you much in demand.”
“Umm, not so I noticed,” he replied, confused.
“Foolish women,” she said, walking up to him. Her eyes, level with his, were a dark, intense brown. They seemed to draw him in. “Let’s save the wine for after,” she murmured, letting the robe fall. It slid over her breasts, dropping past her flat middle to the floor. She leaned forward, pressing her mouth to his. Fenaday’s brain whirled as she leaned her body into his. He could feel her nipples against the front of his shirt. She moved to pull him down on her, onto the rug, but he pulled slowly, insistently, back.
Dominici looked at him with mock chagrin on her face. “Am I going too fast for you? I thought you liked assertive women.”
“I like all types of women,” he replied, his face and other places hot. Gently, he disengaged her arms from his neck. “This isn’t the reason I came or that I thought you invited me.”
“Business first, pleasure later?” she said huskily.
Fenaday got himself under better control. After living with Shasti, he was again used to the warmth and excitement of making love. Distracted and exhausted by the desperate preparations for rescue, he hadn’t realized how much he missed it until now. The thought that Dominici understood this and was using it angered him. More than ever, he hated being manipulated and he doubted a woman of Dominici’s position was such an undisciplined alley cat. No, if she had such needs, she would attend to them discreetly. This was manipulation.
Dominici watched the by-play on his face with more understanding than he suspected was safe for him. “So,” she said with a slight smile, “you’re not quite as easy to handle as I thought. That’s good. One hopes for sense in an ally.” The seductive mien dropped off like the clothes she’d shed.
Fenaday stared at her; some of his bemusement must have shown through. Dominici’s smile broadened. She bent down and picked up the filmy robe. Casually draping it over her body, she sat back on a couch arm, completely unselfconscious. The effect was more erotic than her initial invitation.
“Then you weren’t interested,” he said slowly, trying to figure out her game.
“Oh, I’m interested,” Dominici replied. “But this is mostly business.”
“Odd sort of business for a general,” he muttered.
Dominici laughed. “Don’t be prim with me, Robert. I believe in total war and I use every weapon I have. If I could make you mine, it might be a worthwhile conquest and I assume you would be worth having. I guarantee you would enjoy yourself. I’m very talented, one of the side benefits of a long and healthy life.
“Besides, Denshi has spies in the military, possibly on my staff. You were seen being delivered to me. Rumor will be I bedded you for curiosity or sport. They may buy curiosity or they may figure out the real reason, but I have sufficient cover to turn aside any inquiry. Sometimes a reputation is useful.”
Fenaday found his eyes dropping to the curves of her body. Dominici looked like a woman in her late thirties or early forties, but her body appeared even younger. The briefing said she was in her sixties. It was almost impossible to believe. Beyond a few lines to the face and a touch of gray in the hair, there was little sign of age on her.
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br /> “Of course,” Dominici continued, “I can see that I might not measure up to your standards. Shasti Rainhell would be a hard act to follow. She is one of the ‘Engineered,’ Third or Fourth-Generation even. The new race, heir to Olympia. I could not hope to compete with her perfection.”
“You are not ‘Engineered,’ I take it?” he asked.
“No,” Dominici frowned. “My parents were selected by the Order of Geneticists under the old Allessandro program. What you see,” she said, rising in a mocking pirouette which caused her filmy robe to float around her, “is what God and Dr. Allessandro, if there is a difference, intended.”
Fenaday found his breath a little tight and forced his eyes back to her face. Dominici was attractive. She lacked Shasti’s height or symmetry, and the muscular build looked a bit chunky for Fenaday’s taste. Still, she was well made and very fit.
She is not my friend, he reminded himself. She is playing with me, trying to get a hold on me. This is business. He reached for the wine bottle and poured two glasses. He moistened dry lips with a sip of cool, slightly sweet white wine, offering the other glass to Dominici. “I sense a dislike of the new order and I thought Pard was the reason for our meeting.”
“I am sure whoever sent you gave you an extensive briefing on the divisions in Olympian society,” she replied, walking over to him and accepting the other wineglass. “Possible friends, definite foes. Oh, please do not bother to deny it. You are here for Pard and the team that came before. Army Intelligence established that a Confederate strike force dropped on Olympia approximately sixty-three standard days ago, though I will grant we have no idea how.”
Dominici returned to her perch on the couch arm, leaning back as if to display her superb body the better. “None of the members of the team,” she began, “were taken alive. Your Rainhell was seen, but not taken or killed.”
Fenaday controlled himself with an effort. Shasti’s alive. At least she was. Relief washed over his senses. He snapped back to focus on what Dominici was saying.
“It was clear from the bodies,” Dominici continued, “after genetic testing, that they were Confed. We know some survivors escaped, we don’t know how many since we don’t know the original size of the force. Of course, you could remedy that?”
He said nothing.
Dominici sighed, appearing irritated. “Fenaday, the only reason your people are still alive and at large is that we have been running interference for them. We were the ones who captured the other members of Leda Jenner’s cell, to keep them out of Denshi’s hands.”
“Then you would know where the alleged survivors are?” he asked.
“We did not get all of them alive,” Dominici said, gently swirling her wineglass. “Unfortunately, the one who knew the location of the safe houses was killed.”
“You’re not holding the off-planet team?” he asked cautiously.
“No. To the extent we have a common enemy in Pard, I’m your friend.”
“Well, you have been very friendly so far,” he said, trying for lightness.
“Then return the favor,” she purred, leaning forward.
Think about sports, food, cold showers, anything, he said to himself.
“Motivation,” he said, unexpectedly, “why? What is your problem with Pard? Why don’t you go to the government with what you know? Pard’s been good to the military, buying up every weapon in sight. You could earn great favor with him.”
“Pard loves the Navy, not the Army,” Dominici raised the glass to her lips and sipped, watching him through the raised rim of the crystal.
“Not enough, General,” Fenaday said. “You’re asking me to trust you. You claim to know my motivations. I need to know yours.”
She looked at him thoughtfully, then put down her glass on a table, “What am I?”
“What?”
“What am I?” she repeated.
“Olympia’s senior army general.”
“No, that’s who I am. What am I?”
“A woman,” he shrugged.
“Thanks for noticing,” she smiled. “A human woman, just so. I may be the product of selective breeding and special training, but I am all human. There is no real difference between us on a DNA level. Not to be immodest, I just have better codes.
“Pard is taking Olympia in a different direction than Allessandro intended. He and the Order of Geneticists are moving into creating people, making a new species of humanity. They are fucking with DNA, the ultimate tie that binds. Olympia is being divided, not by the usual squabbles, but by a growing gap between people like me and people like your friend, Shasti the Engineered. She is not very far down that road. You could call her human plus. The newest people are not being born; they are coming out of labs, exclusively.
“How long before they discard the basic model? Nature’s haphazard design, with all its flaws. How long until the newest people have horns, claws, extra organs, three eyeballs? How long till the freak show?” she asked, pacing around the room, arms folded across her firm breasts, the sheer robe trailing behind her.
“Allessandro believed in human perfection. The Geneticists and Pard are perverting that into a new alien race, right under everyone’s nose.” Dominici walked over to the table to refill her glass. Fenaday had to stop himself from looking at the supple way her body moved. He shook his head when she gestured with the bottle. She sipped some wine before speaking again.
“I have grandchildren, Fenaday—beautiful, near perfect, human grandchildren. But they are not Engineered. I don’t want to see them in a new underclass lorded over by freaks from laboratories. That is what will happen, if Pard and the Geneticists are not stopped.
“You’re suspicious of the armaments Pard’s building. So am I. He’s up to something big. Denshi manpower has been disappearing lately. Where to? Ships not on the Registry? Secret bases? If he isn’t stopped soon, it may be too late. So I need you, Fenaday. Pard is the linchpin, I need him taken out and I can’t move openly against him.
“You need me. Rainhell is down there and she can’t last forever with Denshi after her, even with my help. Denshi are good. They will get her.”
Fenaday stared into her dark eyes, trying to read something. Dominici revealed nothing. What choice do I have? he thought. I can’t stay in orbit forever.
“I believe you,” Fenaday said. “Maybe I’m a fool for doing so, but I do. I’m going to take the chance you are not setting me up. You’re partially correct about my mission. You hit on why I was sent, dead on. They want me to take out Pard. I’ll do it if I can, but I’m only interested in Shasti and the other members of her team. If it comes to it, I’ll settle for just her.
“A wise being I once knew told me he would forgo revenge for a home. I failed to follow that advice once. I won’t make that mistake again. I’ll go through Pard if I need to, but I would as soon go around. All I want is her.”
“You’ll have to go through him,” Dominici assured him. “Never doubt it. Pard knows she is here and he will kill her unless you kill him first. I assume you have the means to deal with Pard?”
“We didn’t bring an army,” Fenaday said. “We aren’t here for a stand-up fight. We have to approach by stealth, overwhelm the local force, make the kill and run like hell. The problems are: how to get down, find our people and, after the strike, how to get offworld again.”
“We are looking for your people now,” Dominici said. “I can provide you with schematics of Pard’s complex, data on troops, operations and most important, somewhere to run to after the strike. However your forces get onto Olympia, I don’t believe you would be able to get off without help. You’ll get Army protection on a base until you can be extracted.”
“If you can do all this, why haven’t you taken care of Pard yourself?” Fenaday asked.
She grimaced. “Not so easy. The Army holds the ground, the Navy holds the sky. I told you, Pard has people in the Army as well. If I moved against him openly, I would find myself relieved by the President and proba
bly in an accident soon after. I have one shot at him. Once I start, I am committed. Do or die. Understand this, I won’t be able to do much until Pard is dead, or at least till Denshi is in disorder. Once he is down and we occupy Denshi offices, we will find enough to disgrace Pard with some plot. He has dozens, I am sure. Likely we won’t even have to make anything up.”
“Can you do anything about getting us downworld?” he asked.
“No, damn it, that's Navy jurisdiction. I have no influence in that area. You’ll have to come up with something. Congratulations on having the smarts not to get boarded or docked to the station. Either would have been disaster. I know you got by our detectors the first time. Can you do it again?”
“Yes,” Fenaday said, “I think so. This close to the planet, we assume the ship is under surveillance. We’ll need a little luck, some diversion but we can do it.”
“Mind telling me how?” she asked sweetly.
Fenaday smiled back at her. After a moment, she laughed. “You’re right about the surveillance, but you picked your orbit well. They can’t park a ship or satellite close in such a high orbit without making a diplomatic scene they don’t need. It makes it much more difficult. Still, I don’t see how you could manage a drop without radar detection. However, that’s your problem. You don’t get my help till you attack Pard.”
“Everything hinges on Pard,” Fenaday said. “You’re taking huge risks even talking to me. Betting your life on the efforts of a privateer you’ve never met, with forces you don’t know. Ms. Dominici, a smart man might think you were pretty desperate.”
Fearful Symmetry (The Robert Fenaday and Shasti Rainhell Chronicle Book 2) Page 15
