“Run it,” Sol said, voice wooden as he stuck his coffee cup into the dispenser.
Kraal’s aged face formed on the screen and Sol smiled wryly, knowing the disparity between their relative time and the one Kraal had spoken in so many light-years away. With time dilation, things happened quickly in other parts of the galaxy.
“To Captain Solomon Carrasco, Brotherhood ship Boaz, good day. We have received several complaints from New Maine concerning your behavior regarding one of their diplomats, a certain nephew to the king, um, one Fan Jordan. Our records here on Frontier allow us to build a reasonably accurate profile of Ambassador Jordan and no doubt you have had to take measures to, shall we say, subdue his passions? Would you care to respond at this time? If this would be inconvenient, please resume your duties. We have noted your continued silence and assume you have your reasons. Don’t let the subject worry you as we will handle any complaints on this side. Feel free to ask should you require assistance from us. God speed and good luck. Please give my regards to Speaker Archon and his lovely daughter.” The image faded.
Sol rubbed his chin, desperately missing the beard which had refused to grow after med regenerated his face. “Clean bill of health from Frontier,” he mused.
“Do you want to send a reply?” Boaz asked.
“No, I don’t think that will be necessary.” Sol frowned, sipped his hot coffee, and wondered, “How much more do you think we can get away with?”
“Captain, I have broken the code on the New Maine response.” The image formed on the screen.
A long-faced man with the crown and scepter of New Maine emblazoned on his jacket stared out. “Greetings, your Highness! We have received your appeal for relief. Security at the palace has been strengthened. Would you please acknowledge your present situation? If we do not hear from you, we will assume your royal personage is either incarcerated or dead—and appropriate action will be implemented.” The screen blanked out.
“Appropriate action?”
“I would imagine they will have a ship dispatched to get their ambassador,” Boaz decided, running through the statistical manipulations and picking the highest probability.
“Delightful!” Sol chuckled. “We’ll be back at Arcturus before they get spaced.”
Only he was wrong.
* * *
Sol stopped nervously before the hatch. A curious reluctance ate at him. “Come on, if you can use the ship to spy on her, you can sure as hell talk to her, too.”
He stepped into the observation blister.
She stood proudly, back to him, staring out at the distant suns, the wealth of starlight barely tingeing the red of her hair. In silhouette, she might have been a goddess, every curve adding to her allure.
Sol hesitated, letting the image of her settle into his mind—a bit of time locked away forever in his memories.
His heart betrayed itself as he softly said, “Connie?”
She turned, a slight smile hovering for a fleeting instant on her lips. “Hello, Captain. Seems I can never get down here without you showing up.”
He chuckled softly, moving up to stand beside her. “I’ve got a confession to make. I cheated. Heard you were coming down here.”
“Another noise complaint?” She arched a fine eyebrow, green eyes evaluating.
“Mouse said you were walking too loudly on the deck plates.”
She crossed her arms, slender fingers supporting her chin. “I told you you’d use that once too often.” She studied his face for a moment. “Captain, you look a little haggard.”
He shrugged. “It’s all starting to go too fast. I feel controlled by events instead of in charge. So much is happening—and I can’t make sense of it.”
“You’ll wish you hadn’t in the end. Despite your secret society, ignorance is bliss.”
“Perhaps.” His voice caught as he searched for words. “Actually, I wanted to come down and thank you. Bryana gave me a full report. You were the one who spoke for Jordan. Myself . . . well, I might have let my passions get the best of me. Thank you, you’ve lessened my burden—and that of the Craft.”
Her smile hung wearily on her lips, hair tumbling down her back as she lifted her chin. “I wanted to space him. Father was adamant, practically foaming at the mouth.” She shook her head. “Then I remembered something Nikita said about responsibility in a politician. About not wanting to do things. I don’t know, so much is at stake, what’s a measly assault? When I got calmed down enough to look at it rationally, I saw that kicking Fan out a hatch would only complicate things.
“But thank you for a most timely rescue. This time, I needed it. He brought reinforcements with him.”
“Sometimes us captains need to do things a couple of times to get it right. The first time was just a mock run to make sure I had the reflexes to get it right when the real thing rolled around.”
“Practice must have helped. You were on the money. Any further, and I would have had no choice but to space him.”
Sol exhaled, staring out at the stars. “Still, spacing that bastard would have made chaos look simple. God alone knows what the Mainiacs would have done in retaliation.”
She ran delicate fingers over the telescope mounting. “I suppose. Only I can’t help feeling trapped. Seeing behavior like Jordan’s out of a rational human mind doesn’t help matters either. I keep reevaluating what we’re about. The more I know about politics and the people in charge of them, the less certain I am about what to do.”
“The device?”
She looked up at him. “Father said you’d guessed that much. Yes, I’m more than nervous. The only glimmering of hope I see is getting it to Kraal. I listened most intently to your conversation with Nikita and Tayash. Perhaps, if there’s hope for humanity ...”
“Want to tell me more? Like what this thing is? A machine? A ... what?”
She reached over, resting a hand on his arm. A tingle shot through him. “No, Sol. Not yet. And it isn’t even for security reasons. I ... I want you to make your own decisions, unbiased. Please, don’t look at me like that. It takes all my discipline as it is to try and think rationally about this.”
He reached over, laying a hand on hers. “Very well, I’ll trust you for it.”
She nodded slightly. “Thank you, Sol. It isn’t easy to deal with, that’s all.”
“Your father said both of you were expendable. That it would even be worth an entire planet.”
She nodded, sober eyes on his. “He wasn’t being melodramatic. That’s why it all keeps getting so complicated.”
“I know it’s not much, but if you need to talk sometime, you know where to find me.”
She closed her eyes, a curious relief in her expression. “You know, I’ve never felt so damned alone in my life as in this last year.” She shook her head, leaning against him. “I can’t even allow myself to be human. Always circumspect, always in control. It’s a terrible thing to never allow yourself any vulnerability. We’re not built like that, not meant to live as impregnable fortresses.”
He placed an arm around her shoulder, thrilling at the firm feel of her flesh.
For long moments, they stood, staring out at the stars. “When this is over, maybe I’ll feel young again.”
“And what will you do?”
She shrugged, “Sleep for a week. Then I’ll go find a quiet spot and try and make sense of it all. I don’t know, maybe take Bad Boy and space for someplace out there.” She gestured at the stars.
“Kraal made you a member of the Craft. We’re doing a lot of survey work. There’s always a need for capable people.”
She cocked her head, hair slipping across his hand in a silken shower. “Is that an offer?”
Sol met her gaze frankly. “Would you like it to be?”
The blue pools of her eyes seemed to expand. “Sol, in all honesty, I can’t tell you how much I’d like to say yes. But we have our current affairs to see to, and we’d need more time together. To see how we got along.”
He laughed s
oftly. “That’s not quite the answer I anticipated. Are you always so pragmatic about men?”
She smiled wistfully out at the stars. “I wasn’t once. I was a couple of light-years younger then. I don’t know, maybe every girl goes through that starry-eyed stage. He was dashing, ambitious, powerful. I was out of my league and didn’t know it. He took me to his bed as an eager virgin. Oh, I bought it all, taken in by his charm and attention. Awed by his power, that a man of his stature and ability would care for me.”
“What happened?”
Her voice dropped. “I went where I wasn’t supposed to. Overheard him talking with one of his lieutenants, talking about the delight of bedding me while he destroyed my father and his fleet.” She shook her head. “I felt . . . trashed, degraded. Like everything else in his life, he used me only as a stepping stone to further his own advancement. I was a simple political tool to him, nothing more.”
“Looks like you survived.”
“I did. Immediately afterward, the universe dumped on my shoulders. Somewhere, deep inside, I reached down into the muck of myself and pulled enough threads of identity together to deal with it all.” She pillowed her head in the hollow of his shoulder. “Damn, everything inside and out came unraveled—and there was no one but me to rely on.”
He turned her, staring down into her eyes. “For the record, I like the way it turned out.”
For a long second, they stared into each others eyes. He bent down, kissing her gently before she pushed away.
A curious confusion filled her.
“I’m sorry,” Sol added gently. “It just seemed like the thing to do. Something about the starlight, it always gets to me that way.”
She smiled up at him. “I could get to like starlight.” She hesitated. “But, Sol, let me think this through first. I don’t want to start anything I can’t finish.”
She disengaged herself, stepping back, the old reservation in her eyes.
“I understand.” He smiled reassuringly. “You’re not the only one who’s a little nervous. It’s been years since . . . Well, that’s another story.”
She gave him a ravishing smile. “And I’ll want to hear it.”
With that, she was gone, her scent lingering gently on the cool air.
* * *
In one of those odd coincidences, Sol was reviewing the tapes Boaz had made of the day Texahi was poisoned when the ship interrupted his study.
“Captain, you are needed in the hospital. Ambassador BenGeller is dead.”
Even as the news settled in, Sol was already sprinting through the corridors.
Paul Ben Geller was laid out on a med unit. Boaz’s probes were flying around his body and Sol winced at the sight of things moving under pale flesh as remote sensors moved through muscle and nerves. The sight always reminded him of worms ... or some horrid creature inside the body.
Mary Ben Geller lay on a pad across from her husband. “How’s Mrs. Ben Geller, Boaz?”
“Asleep, Captain. She was hysterical and I thought it proper to sedate her.”
“Leave her be.” Sol looked up as Ensign Wheeler came out of the back.
“Not good, Captain. I don’t know what could have done it. According to the symptoms, he just went to sleep and died.” Wheeler spread his hands. Boaz will have autopsy within a couple of minutes, I’d imagine.
“I have found the instrument of death, Captain,” Boaz informed.
“Instrument?” Sola asked, seeing Wheeler’s tightened expression.
“Affirmative. I have located a delicate glass needle in the ambassador’s arm. I am currently extracting it.” A long probe sailed out and thin metallic fingers pulled the soft tissue aside. The tiny sliver of glass came out in pieces and was withdrawn into the bulkhead for analysis.
“Do you need me here anymore, Boaz?”
“Negative, Captain. But I have the cause of death. It is not pharmacopa. This time we are dealing with a toxin derived from sitah root, a scrubby violet plant which grows only on Reinland. It is, I might add, a very specialized poison.”
“We’ll discuss it further in my quarters,” Sol decided. He turned to Wheeler. “Keep your hat on about this, Ensign. Not a single word to anyone. Even after we break it, you don’t know a thing. Refer any curious parties to me or Speaker Archon, understood?”
“Aye, Cap.” Wheeler nodded. “Uh, from the silence, I assume that there was more than met the eye with Ngoro and Texahi, too?”
“You don’t talk to anyone!” Sol repeated as he left.
“Archon to my quarters,” Sol muttered into his belt comm. There had to be an end to this one way or another, and this time he’d have it if he had to jail Archon in the process!
CHAPTER XXIV
She watched the white ship drop from light jump. She could feel this ship, and she quieted her stir of anticipation. The other craft had been coming in—all from that desolate section of the galaxy, but they were exceedingly primitive, unlike this more advanced arrival. Did such advancement signify a Master?
Patience. The long wait was almost over. Curious, she probed, but her instruments detected only humans in the huge white ship. She digested that knowledge with the understanding that Masters—jealous of each other’s power—might not trust themselves in Phthiiister’s domain or her presence.
Phthiiister, last of a long line of Hynan successors. Not since the Aan had conflict grown so violent over her possession. Each of the competing lords had challenged her Masters. Eternal competitors, they’d sought to develop defenses—some way to rival her powers. In the end, every means had been tried, the epitome of Hynan science had engaged her and Phthiiister. True to the nature of organic life, the drive to overcome had powered the Hynan to their destruction—the battleground raging across the universe to end here, in this tiny spiral of a galaxy. Here, mad Phthiiister had come and destroyed the last bastions of resistance in person. And here, he’d damned himself to live the last of his days, toying with suns, cackling crazily to himself as he worked the spring.
He’d designed this solar system to his liking, and ordered her to produce intoxicants with which to hallucinate the hours away. There, at the helm, he’d remained, remarkable nervous system dulled by the endless stream of drugs until his body expired—the last of his kind.
Thus she had waited—trapped by the damning spring— until the animals found her. Now the white ship approached, and Sabot Sellers watched from the fringes. If they truly had no superior Master, he would do nicely. Who would get to her first?
If only she could work the spring—but then, she’d have no need of Sellers or his ambitions; she’d simply destroy them all. At the thought of it, insanity burned an actinic brilliance within her.
* * *
Archon passed the hatch to see Sol musing over a large 2-D picture of the lounge portrayed on the screens along one wall. “Yes?” he asked.
“Paul Ben Geller is lying dead in the hospital. Boaz pulled a shattered glass needle out of his arm. Mary is under sedation. No one but you, I, and the medical ensign knows yet. I’ve been reviewing the records of Paul’s last day.”
“Oh, my God!” Archon sank listlessly into the chair.
“The poison came from sitah root. It produces a fungal reaction—quite painless—which functions on the red blood cells. The only passenger from Reinland is Mikhi Hitavia. Hitavia had the opportunity to slip the poison into both Ngoro’s and Texahi’s drink. Here he appears innocent. Note the video recording: Hitavia is playing Mark Lietov at the gaming booth. GSR, respiration, and pulse are normal for curves established for gaming players. He couldn’t have done it since he would have had to shoot through Malakova’s body.”
“Wait a minute. GSR? Respiration? I don’t . . . How do you know all this?” Archon looked bewildered.
Ignoring the question, Sol continued, “This has to be the moment when Geller received the lethal projectile. Notice, he’s scratching his arm. Entry of the missile would have caused a slight itch. Now, we’ve deduced the proje
ctile must have had a velocity of around twenty meters per second. That means close range. Interpose the lines, Boaz-” Two red zones inserted themselves on the photo.
“From the possible trajectories, seven people lie within range of Ben Geller. You, Speaker, Constance, Origue Sanchez, Malakova, Mary Ben Geller, Wan Yang Dow, and Elvina Young. No one else, as you can see, could have hit that target from where they stood or sat.”
“How did you get this data? I thought you said this ship didn’t spy on us?”
Sol added dryly, “I lied. Please, look at the hands of the subjects involved. Mary has hers pressed together. Wan Yang Dow has both hands clasping his drinking bulb. Malakova’s hands are spread wide in a gesture. Constance is flipping her hair over her shoulder with one hand while gesturing with the other. Sanchez has his chin cradled in his palms, no doubt bored by Elvina, who is engaged in old-fashioned knitting—I hear that’s big on Zion. Your hands, Speaker, are in your pockets.”
Archon stared, off balance. Finally he said, “So I’m a suspect? Yes, I suppose so.”
“Boaz?” Sol called. “What was the Speaker’s reaction?”
“His pulse, metabolic rate, GSR, and respiration were normal. He didn’t arrive at the conclusion he was the logical one to have murdered Paul Ben Geller rapidly enough. From my statistical analyses, I must conclude the Speaker—whose reactions I have become very familiar with—is totally surprised, Captain, and, therefore, innocent.”
“Thank you, Boaz. ” Sol sighed and dropped into his bunk. He looked forlornly at the speechless Archon. “I had to know. It’s not you. We must look deeper—but one of those remaining six people is the assassin.”
“This ship spies on us? It notes respiration, galvanic skin response, even pulse?”
“Oh, much more than that, Speaker. I had eyes installed all over the ship along with audio and IR pickups. She’s been monitoring everything, filtering it, bringing any altercation or threat to my attention. How else do you suppose I was able to intercept Jordan when he first made advances against Constance in the privacy of his quarters? We didn’t use that evidence because it would have tipped my advantage to the investigative committee.”
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