Fearful Symmetry (The Robert Fenaday and Shasti Rainhell Chronicle Book 2)

by Edward McKeown

  Dominici nodded. “They are the best. So Rainhell turned up? What of Pard?”

  Telisan walked to the edge of the bridge, where his friends had been found, and pointed down. Dominici looked over; a smile of satisfaction lit her face. “One less nightmare. Of course, we’re going to join him unless we can find enough evidence to stop the Navy’s counterstrike and the president cashiering me. Find anything, say, a little alien?”

  It hit him. “You knew,” Telisan shouted. Sharla turned in astonishment. She’d never heard her fiancé raise his voice before. The troops by the armored cars shifted, their weapons covering the Denlenn.

  The accusation did not appear to discomfort Dominici. “Of course I knew. Or rather I had strong suspicions but no proof. So, what do you have for me?”

  Telisan glared. “All that you could wish, an alien ambassador of a new species, quite dead. The Denshi have an alliance. I’m sure you will find abundant evidence in the complex.”

  “What do they look like?” she asked quietly. Abruptly, it occurred to him that Dominici might have served off planet in the Conchirri war. His eyes flicked down to her chest.

  “I’m not wearing it,” she said, noting his eyes. “I don’t wear campaign stars on my battle armor.”

  “Ah,” he replied, “so you were there.”

  “Yes.”

  “They do not look like the Conchirri. This is a new species entirely. Their skin is what humans see as tan. We Denlenn see different spectra. They have three upper limbs, two legs and a prehensile tail. The one I found was already dead. We discovered an order for its extermination in a Denshi computer.”

  Dominici turned and waved for the officer to allow Vaughn to come up, accompanied by the woman and the alert looking troopers. “Take a look over the rail,” she bade the big human. “You are now paramount in Denshi.”

  Vaughn looked over for a moment. When he turned back, the expression in his eyes made the soldiers shift and raise their weapons.

  “Sir,” the black-haired woman said sharply, as if to call the weapons to his attention. His eyes flicked to her, and then back to lock on Telisan’s yellow cat’s-eyes.

  The Denlenn stared back fearless, not troubling to reach for his laser. Sharla, more practical, slid her hand over the butt of her auto-pistol.

  “Your work?” Vaughn grated.

  “He died in fair combat with Rainhell and Fenaday.” Telisan stared back into Vaughn’s volcanic blue eyes. “An honorable death, better than you deal, assassin.”

  “My own preference is face to face,” Vaughn said. “Perhaps we will so meet one day.”

  “Enough of this, boys,” Dominici snapped. “We have a dead alien of an unknown species, an illegal alliance with that same species, Denshi’s computer and paper files, and a Confed Task force due into the system in weeks, if not days. Mr. Vaughn, you need my support. You are up to your neck in it. I already have everything I need to stop the breeding of the Engineered and return Olympia to what it was. If you want to make a place for the Engineered in our world, you need to deal with me.”

  “So it was you,” Sharla said, picking up the threads, “who went to Mandela with the word of what you suspected, with the news that Pard’s plans were nearing fruition. You knew it was only a matter of months before Pard and the Engineered finally maneuvered you out of power.”

  “Or killed me,” Dominici added. “Yes, I went to him. Time was short and measures desperate. That’s why the first team went in the way it did. It’s also why Mandela arranged a backup plan as desperate as the first. If you brought down Pard and developed the evidence we needed, you would be heroes. If not, we would all deny anything to do with you. It would be seen as a private quarrel between Pard and Fenaday over Rainhell. Everyone else being sucked in based on their loyalties, or in Mmok’s case, deceptions. Each of us had our own reasons,” she added. “I want my planet back.”

  Telisan smiled without warmth or humor. “Fenaday told me of an old joke among humans. It concerns a woman who swallowed a fly, then swallowed a spider to get the fly. When she got up to a horse, it killed her. You may find the Confederacy has different plans for your world than you do. The task force is not coming so you may return to your old ways. You may find that, like Mr. Vaughn, you need to face a new reality.”

  “Maybe,” Dominici said. “If so, well, my mother used to say, ‘Blessed are the flexible, for they shall not be bent out of shape.’”

  “Stay limber,” Telisan recommended. “As for us, we are leaving your hospitality as soon as we can. Mandela has other plans for us. He asks you provide us with resupply, rearmament and cooperation. We need to lift as soon as possible.”

  Dominici smiled. “So, as I suspected, you still work for the Confederacy. Your presence at Enshar and here was a bit much to ask of friendship. I’d ask you where you were going if I thought you’d tell me.”

  Telisan looked back at her, impassive.

  “Well,” Dominici said, “give the old bastard regards from the old bitch. You’ll get what you need, Mr. Telisan. I think the sooner you leave, the better for all concerned. Smooth sailing.” She turned and strode away. Vaughn, with a last deadly look at an unaffected Telisan, followed her.

  Telisan and Sharla headed back to the shuttle.

  “You did not correct her,” Sharla observed.

  “It plays to our advantage,” he returned. “She measures all by her own yardstick and to her it makes sense. I do not believe she knows the meaning of the word, ‘friend.’”

  “Beloved,” Sharla said, “few people measure up to you on that standard in any species.”

  Telisan flashed a smile at her and stood a little straighter. “Come,” he said, “let us see if Arpen and Dr. Mourner can work a miracle for us.” Side-by-side, they jogged back to the shuttle.

  *****

  Dr. Mourner leaned against a desk, fatigue evident in every line of her small body. “The trauma drugs saved Rainhell and Fenaday. Death didn’t get a firm enough grip on them, but it came damn close. We were able to resuscitate them, thanks to the medics’ work. Another few minutes and it would have been too late.” Mourner and Sharla stood in the ICU recovery lounge of Gaugamela Military Hospital, north of Marathon. Arpen remained inside with Shasti and Robert, watching them and the teams of Olympian Army doctors and nurses who had battled for twelve hours to save the pair.

  Telisan reached behind him and poured a soft drink. He handed it to Mourner, who drank gratefully. “Are you all right, Doctor?” he asked.

  She smiled at him. “Always the gentleman. Do you have any single brothers?”

  “Regrettably no,” he said. “What is your prognosis?”

  Mourner looked about. All around the lounge stood Olympian Military Police and Special Forces. Dominici was taking no chances of a last minute assassination attempt on Fenaday or Rainhell.

  “I judge it safe to speak,” Telisan said.

  “Shasti was injured the worse,” Mourner rubbed her eyes. “I’ve never seen anyone who heals half as fast as she does. She amazed even the Engineered specialist we brought in from Hagen’s lab. She’s actually in better shape than the Captain is right now. I think we have Robert’s spinal cord patched completely but we will have to wait till he awakens for a full test. He lost a lot of blood, and we had some trouble with shock. If he stays stable for another six to eight hours, then I think we’ll be out of the woods.”

  “This is wonderful news,” Telisan said. He poured himself and Sharla drinks as well and tried to still the shaking of his hands. It had been so close.

  “What’s going on around us?” Mourner asked.

  “We are safe for now,” Telisan said. “The Confed fleet has entered the outer system. It broadcast a terse message about assuming orbit around Olympia and for the Olympian Military not to interfere with its approach.” More messages, Telisan assumed, were passing between Dominici, Ambassador Davis and Mandela, but he was not privy to those. It sufficed for his purposes that Dominici honored her agreements.<
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  “Indeed,” Sharla added, “the Olympian media are making much of the attempted murder of Captain Fenaday by Pard.”

  “I’d be happier if we were back on the ship.” Mourner looked about at all the soldiers outside the glass walls of the lounge.

  “How soon will they be stable enough for that?” Telisan asked. He had more reasons than did Mourner for wishing for the safety of the starship. She had seen holos of the new aliens. Dominici made sure the media aired them almost constantly. Only seven people in Sidhe’s crew knew he had a live alien secreted in the pressure chamber aboard the Sidhe. He needed to bring Mourner into the conspiracy but had not yet done so.

  “Surgical repairs are complete, barring a problem on Robert,” she said. “It’s now up to the regenerators, stimulators and the natural healing power of the body. Arpen, Yamata and I can do what remains, complicated as it is, aboard ship. Give me about two-days and control of the transfer, and I’ll get it done.”

  “Proceed on that basis,” Telisan said.

  Mourner nodded and headed back to the ICU.

  A young officer walked up to Telisan. “Call for you on the secure line, sir. It’s General Dominici.” Telisan followed the human to a desk in a small room. An enlisted man handed him a com, then both he and the officer stepped out.

  “Telisan here.”

  “Commander Telisan,” a male voice said, “hold for General Dominici.”

  The com clicked, and he heard the General’s voice. “Telisan, my people tell me your captain and Ms. Rainhell are going to live.”

  “Yes,” he replied. “I plan to move them back to Sidhe as soon as possible. Have you ordered Sidhe refueled and resupplied?”

  “Yes,” she said. “You’ll be pleased to know the Olympian government is in a desperate fervor to please the acting captain of the star-frigate Sidhe. No doubt that attitude is helped by the size of the incoming fleet. Your boss Mandela seems to be playing his cards close. I haven’t been able to even get an acknowledgement from him. Any chance you can do something about that?”

  “I plan to communicate with Mr. Mandela only after we are in space and outward bound,” Telisan said. “The quicker I can get ready for space, the better.”

  “Damn. It will be days before your ship is repaired and supplies are ready.”

  “All the more time for you to get Olympia under some sort of control,” he replied.

  “I thought so,” she said. “Mandela’s still waiting to see if it’s over or if we blow up into a full civil war. There’s good news on that front. Vaughn has finally chosen to throw in his lot with me, assuming control of what is left of the Denshi order. He’s fighting some holdouts, but they won’t last long.”

  “Excellent news,” Telisan said. “General, I must ask you not to reveal my plans for leaving to any party. I also ask that for security reasons you not discuss with anyone the location or condition of Captain Fenaday and Ms. Rainhell. I particularly ask that you not discuss this with Ambassador Davis.”

  “That imbecile,” Dominici said. “I wouldn’t give him the time of day. He was far too chummy with Pard for my taste.”

  “We had similar concerns,” Telisan said.

  “Agreed then. He remains out of the loop. I’ll keep you posted on developments.” A dull boom sounded over the phone.

  “Have to go, Mr. Telisan,” Dominici said. “The Navy’s calling.”

  The line went dead. Telisan placed the com on the desk and turned away, already deep in thought. Conflicts warred in his Denlenn soul. As a Confederation officer, he’d fought fiercely for the government during the war. He was no longer on active duty, but knew that for a technicality. Now, he felt torn between loyalties. It had happened to him before, on the Enshar Expedition, when he found himself caught between his oaths to Duna and to Fenaday. He’d served the greater good by cleaving to Duna’s side. It had cost his soul bitterly when the Shellycoats struck, almost wiping out their expedition. Fenaday forgave Telisan’s betrayal and the deaths that came from it. Something the Denlenn had never forgiven in himself.

  They had come far from when Telisan had met a broken privateer in a Marsport bar. Now Telisan joined in a second quest, one that predated his own, the search for Lisa Fenaday. It fell to him to see the quest reach its end, or meanly fail. He knew his own soul would not allow him to let his friend’s last desperate hope die.

  Once the Navy learned of the existence of these new aliens, they would never permit anything as quixotic as a rescue mission. The Voit-Veru had clearly conspired with the Olympians. The Confederacy, still recovering from millions of casualties in the Conchirri War, would take no chances. Likely, they would flood the new system with warships, suddenly and without warning. Prisoners gone so many years would be of no import in such a calculation. Telisan had watched too many front-line soldiers sacrificed this way by those like Mandela. Efficient, perhaps, but not the Denlenn way. There was no honor in it. Did a Confederacy with so little loyalty to its own deserve his? It always troubled him that the reciprocity of served and serving, found in his own military, was not reflected in the wider Confederacy. Yet no one could deny that ruthless human efficiency had won the Conchirri war.

  I am Denlenn and Selen, he thought finally, I can only be what I am. The universe might depend on a rock falling upward, but the rock, being a rock, only knows how to fall down. When we reach the system’s edge, just before jump, I will have Sharla relay every piece of data we extracted from the databanks of Denshi and the prisoner. The Confederacy will have all it needs to deal with the threat and mount a strike if need be. The government has thousands of ships and tens of thousands of personnel. All Lisa Fenaday has is the Sidhe.

  He returned to the ICU and looked in the windows at his friends. “Rest and heal,” he bade them. “I am doing all you could wish.

  “Sharla,” he said, “I leave you in charge here. I must get to the Embassy, then the ship. Coordinate the transfer of Robert and Shasti back to Sidhe when it is possible.”

  “Depend on me,” she replied.

  Telisan turned to the Olympian officer nearby. “I need an aircar,” he said.

  *****

  The next few days were a blur of activity. Telisan, invoking Mandela’s name, recalled the survivors of the attack on Pard’s compound to the frigate. Many of the crab robots were badly damaged or destroyed, along with the HCR Cerulean. The robots had fulfilled their main purpose, drawing fire off the living. Still, fully half of the attack force lay dead or wounded. Invoking Mandela’s name and influence, Telisan transferred three squads of Marines and a dozen Army specialists to Sidhe bringing the landing force back up to strength. Telisan told Davis that Mandela needed Sidhe and the attack force. They would leave soon, and he could not say when they would return. Davis, happy to be rid of them, ordered it.

  Fenaday and Rainhell were transferred back to Sidhe’s Sickbay under the tightest security, to continue recovering in a medical coma under the care of Mourner and Arpen.

  Mmok remained out of his hair, working furiously to reassemble the robot company with salvage, spares on board and material he obtained from the embassy. It fit in well with what Telisan needed, so he encouraged the cyborg’s efforts.

  Rask recovered from a laser shot through the arm. He and Li searched the city trying to find some sign of Daniel Rigg and the rest of the team. Those answers lay behind the silent lips of their two patients still under guard in the hospital.

  Meanwhile, Marathon continued to come apart at the seams as factions jockeyed for positions in the new order. Dominici, still far from secure, hunkered down, awaiting Mandela. Navy and Army troops patrolled different sections of the city, cautiously watching each other. Incidents were common.

  Perez drove the engineering “black gang” mercilessly, readying the ship for transit. He was not in on Telisan’s plans. The Denlenn shared those only with Arpen and Sharla. Time pressed on him as he raced about the ship, checking every detail for the voyage ahead.

  *****


  “Graglia to Telisan.”

  The Denlenn did not sigh, but the equivalent feeling swept through him. What now? “Telisan here.”

  “Yes sir. There is an Army escort here with Mr. Vaughn. He wants to see you.”

  “Why?”

  “He won’t say, sir. Says he will talk to you. He’s got a pass countersigned by General Dominici, with a note from her asking you to meet him.”

  “Very well,” the exasperated Denlenn said. “I shall meet him at the shuttle airlock. Have Mr. Mmok and one, no, two of the HCRs meet me there.” He did not expect any threat, but the formidable Engineered assassin had no love for any of them. He checked his laser for good measure as he made his way to the main shuttle bay airlock. Fenaday’s suspicious human nature was rubbing off on him.

  Sidhe’s shuttle bay doors stood open on both sides of the frigate, thirty meters off the ground, surrounded by gantry scaffolding, allowing a stiff breeze to pass through the ship. ASAT, Marine and LF guards patrolled every access point. Telisan wanted to take no chances with the new head of Denshi.

  The tall Engineered and his army escort waited outside the ship’s pressure doors on the gantry side. McLoughlin stood by the airlock. He’d raised the gangway and stood there, tapping a heavy auto-pistol negligently on his thigh.

  Mmok and the HCRs came up behind Telisan. He nodded to the dour cyborg, who simply grunted, looking sourly out at Vaughn. Telisan nodded at McLoughlin and gestured for the gangway to be restored. McLoughlin manipulated the controls, and the heavy cargo gangway extended out. Surprisingly, only Vaughn walked across. The three soldiers and Tanaka remained on the far side.

  Telisan, used to being tall, disliked having to look up at the black-haired human. Vaughn saved him the indignity by stopping a long pace off. His startling blue eyes struck a chill in the Denlenn. Perhaps they were designed to. Vaughn nodded stiffly but politely.

  “What is it you wish, Mr. Vaughn?” Telisan asked, flanked by Mmok and his killing machines.