Warrior-Woman

by Mary Ann Steele

  So you did, but I'd have sworn that no captain recruited by Norman would ever have refused under those circumstances to accede to Signe's demand. Your willingness to forfeit your life to benefit Columbia deserves far better than the harsh punishment my shortsighted colleague plans to inflict on you, spacer-captain.

  That rapid mental evaluation of the situation caused no perceptible delay in the autocrat's spoken response. "Signe was right about your giving her only time," he declared ruminatively. "She'd have managed what she achieved, sooner or later. She was right about something else as well. You are too good a man for Norman. I could use an aide who keeps a cool head in a crisis. Your rank would be the equivalent of captain. Will you accept?"

  "Will I…yes, sir!" Dahl suddenly looked ten Earthyears younger to the shrewd student of human nature keenly aware that he had just forged a bond of no mean magnitude between himself and his new subordinate. "Thank you, sir!"

  "I'll inform your commander of my decision." Arlen's eyes briefly hardened in their turn, confirming the watcher's suspicion that the Commander-in-Chief despised Norman. Intense curiosity drove the next question put to the man giddy with relief. "Tell me frankly, Dahl: what do you think of Signe?"

  The reprieved officer's glance strayed to a point past Arlen's head, as an arresting, commanding, youthful visage eerily framed in silvery hair shimmered in his interior vision. Exquisitely aware that his interrogator possessed an astonishing ability to detect a prevaricator in the act of lying, Dahl strove to distill his impressions into a terse, baldly accurate statement.

  Memories flashed by as if fast-forwarded. Once more, the cold menace freighting the voice of his world's archfoe chilled his blood. Exactly as before, he grudgingly admired her courage. On the screen of his interior vision, he saw the fierce look of joy generated as the raider progressed with cool daring towards a cherished goal. Racked by fear, chafed by his bonds, he again marveled at hearing her sincere tribute to a defeated adversary even as he maintained his stubborn resolve to decline her gallant offer. The warmth of the memorable smile constituting her parting salute returned to fill him with a most inexplicable sense of regret.

  "I can't help but admire her, sir," he admitted truthfully, if a shade defensively. Having voiced that heresy, he added forcefully, "But I regard her as a downright dangerous enemy."

  Arlen smiled grimly. "My sentiments exactly," he acknowledged with perfect candor.

  Chapter Two

  Leaning forward across the polished surface of his desk, Arlen rested his chin on the steepled fingers of both hands, and meditated. Iridescent blue-green eyes gazed unseeing at the perpetually changing, subtly mind-stimulating, abstract light-sculpture dominating one corner of his severely uncluttered office. That spacious suite occupied a prime location: the lofty dome that formerly housed the bridge of the Columbia , the antique interplanetary vessel permanently moored within the web of habitats girdling the planetoid bearing the vessel's name.

  Relaxing the guard he habitually maintained over his features, the world leader pondered, sorted options, weighed and discarded ideas, and sifted tentative solutions to problems clouding the future of the state over which he presently exerted autocratic mastery. Acutely aware of the tenuous nature of his hold on that power, he cast his mind back over the past, and analyzed events paralleling his meteoric rise to dictatorship.

  Premature, your intense satisfaction over Norman's defeat , the Commander-in-Chief of the Columbian Military Forces scathingly chided his alter self. The bastard's expulsion from Main World of Gaea freed Signe to expand the scope of the war. True, your thrice-accursed rival just lost a superb base of operations: an arena where for the last ten Earthyears a strong military leader given little oversight by an ineffectual civilian head of state operated pretty much as he pleased. Leon failed utterly to control the war he let a power-mad commander in league with greedy civilian officials talk him into launching.

  >From the day that culpably weak-willed First Minister broke the Convention by sanctioning the manufacture--and the use!--of weapons that could kill at a distance, he cast a foul blot on Columbia's honor as well as his own. The Gaeans abided by that ancient agreement forged by Johann's successor: an agreement never abrogated. In no way did they offer gross provocation. On the contrary, they withdrew even deeper into isolation, and maintained their traditional refusal even to use swords to settle personal quarrels. They played right into the hands of militant foes, when they clung so tenaciously to the insularity that Johann's Gaean followers believed to form their best defense against allies they perceived as incorrigibly treacherous.

  Had the descendants of those original Gaeans allowed trade to flourish between two far-flung Groups plagued with an imbalance of natural resources, the war would never have started. We lack dense metals. The Gaeans lack water ice. Their metallic planetoids undoubtedly yield natural alloys and minerals unknown to us. Our stony bodies provide light metals and ceramics they're obliged to do without. Interworld trade makes sound sense. If only they hadn't remained so damned suspicious--so stubbornly resistant to change!

  Well, this war served to lock the Gaeans into that mindset forever, damn the perverse luck. Norman forged an admirably effective military organization. Give the rotter credit where it's due. Your former peer transformed Third Corps from a mediocre body entrusted with guarding public officials during public functions, into a formidable force of savage warriors primed to follow a ruthless leader whose ultimate goal they knew to be absolute power over Columbia.

  Norman ruled that following with an iron hand, but pandered to their basest instincts--condoned butchery and rape while methodically stripping Gaea of portable wealth. My militant rival stands guilty of mass murder of civilians: crimes abetted by captains as culpable as himself--men like Yancey. Crimes those sadistic brutes committed before I seized power. Crimes for which I can't hold them accountable, and stay in power. Well, that latter need's paramount. Vital. Damned if I'll …

  A knock on his door jarred rudely upon Arlen's speculations. Suppressing all evidence of sharp annoyance, he called out, "Come in!"

  The door slid open to admit a tall figure as aristocratic in bearing as the world leader. Lively dark eyes formed the most arresting feature of a hawk-profiled, ebony face. The newcomer's lean, supple body moved with the fluid grace characteristic of the master swordsman, as he strode with hand outstretched towards the superior who rose to greet him.

  "Amin!" the autocrat exclaimed, allowing his keen satisfaction to show. "I felt certain you couldn't arrive before tomorrow morning!"

  "I'm well ahead of schedule, thanks to Evan. Not only did he deliver the parts I needed, he placed half his crew on twelve-hour shifts, and arrived with the other five spacers to spend a full eight hours helping us with the repairs. When I protested, he growled that any man who'd just put in two fourweeks of duty on the Ice World needed a boost to his morale. Winking at me, he pitched his voice to carry, and boomed out his intent to see that my crew got an extra night to spend with the girls. Morale soared, naturally. I owe my old comrade, damned if I don't."

  "So do I, for whatever time you can spare me before you take Evan's advice yourself." His own lithe, hard-muscled frame exhibiting no less grace than that distinguishing the visitor, Arlen moved two chairs beautifully crafted of gleaming dark laminate from where they stood side by side on the opulent deckcovering. Gesturing Amin into one, the autocrat seated himself opposite the Senior Captain and trusted friend who figured prominently in the deliberations that had occupied his mind before he retreated into musings on the history of the conflict.

  "The night's young yet, chief. I guessed that I'd find you working overtime. Who's the new man on your board?"

  "Dahl. My two former aides I caught selling information to Galt. After demoting them both to the lowest rank, I inflicted the punishment the offense merited. That incident prompted me to seek out a man I judged loyal enough to me personally that he'd prove incorruptible. Dahl I appropriated from Norman, a move t
hat did nothing to mitigate the hatred I incurred when I relieved my colleague of four of the six first-class military ships he brought back from Gaea--especially since Signe wrested one of Norman's two remaining Earth-built vessels from Dahl, a fourweek ago."

  "Mm. I must say, Norman has been plagued by a daunting series of setbacks lately. Cheers me no end, that circumstance. Evidently Dahl proved innocent of any negligence?"

  "Given that a force comprised of the cream of Gaea's warriors, led by Signe herself, materialized out of the void without any of the six men manning two boards seeing a thing on their screens, I couldn't accuse either the miners or Dahl's spacers of negligence when she took them utterly by surprise from the rear. Just how she managed that feat mystifies me. Her raiders must have landed in the slip formerly used to dock drones, but an incoming drone should have shown up as clearly on the scanning screens as would a military ship.

  "Signe planned her raid well ahead of time, solely to acquire the prize she stole. Dahl's lieutenant stupidly tried to employ his implant against her. She ran him through, thereby striking fear enough into one of the engineers in charge of the mining operation that he obeyed her order to man his board as if nothing were happening. When Signe holed Dahl deeply enough to draw blood, and asked whether he stood prepared to die on the spot to keep her out of space, he said yes. Evidently his response moved her to admiration, because she stayed her hand. She herded his ten crewmen aboard the ship, and strapped Dahl into the couch next to hers.

  "She then coolly announced that with or without his instruction, she intended to lift the ship into orbit around the station. To save the lives of the men incarcerated aboard, he coached her. He assured me most emphatically that she'd done her homework. Once in free fall, she propelled him, securely bound, into a lifeboat that she demanded he show her how to fly. Immobilized, he talked her off the ship, and taught her enough to enable her to dock the boat without blowing the station where her captains still held forty miners hostage. Signe then managed the astonishing feat of completing a successful rendezvous with the ship. She informed Dahl when his ordeal ended that he was too good a man for Norman. I found I agreed with her."

  "Howling hordes of hell!" Shock sufficient to breach the guard over his expression that the Captain habitually maintained showed fleetingly but plainly.

  "Amin, we're about to find ourselves at war in space."

  "Surely not!" With no hesitation whatsoever, the officer flatly contradicted his superior. "One Earth-armed ship against nineteen! No one in his right mind would buck those odds, and Signe's eminently sane. No, she likely intends to do whatever she can to guard her world against any new invading force."

  The Commander-in-Chief took a few seconds to weigh that vehement assertion. Amin I know to be as shrewd a judge as any authority I could consult, he readily conceded. He's a bold strategist with sixteen Earthyears of experience as an officer, a highly competent leader, and a daring and resourceful risk-taker. But so is that infernal woman. Look at the coup she just pulled off! Damn her to the mythical fire!

  No strong emotion surfaced on the face more striking than handsome. His melodious voice as serene as the features so perfectly obedient to their owner's will, Arlen replied equably, "I don't control all nineteen of the Earth-built ships armed with the irreproducible weaponry, Amin, as you well know. Dexter and Courtney each control three. Galt retains four at his command, and Norman one, now that I've relieved him of the four that bring my complement to eight. No prerogative enjoyed by a commander remains more jealously guarded than possession of those irreplaceable vessels.

  "Galt just dispatched two of his four first-class ships to O'Neill, hot on the heels of that archrenegade, Chapell. Dexter takes care to base his three far from the capital, claiming with some justice that his responsibilities demand that pattern of deployment. Courtney keeps one in the capital, and two anywhere except here. Two of mine of necessity guard the outposts on the Ice World.

  "Norman, you'll remember, lost two during the war. The Gaeans sabotaged both ships on the locks, damn their willingness to sacrifice two priceless antique artifacts! Norman left the hulks in Gaea. When I interrogated him under truth compeller, he stated that the hulks are beyond repair, so they indubitably are. But even if they weren't, the Gaeans lack the facilities, the parts, and the expertise to rebuild them. Norman stripped Gaea of parts, destroyed the single factory capable of manufacturing replacements, and slaughtered the experts that staffed it, right after he invaded."

  Full lips curled back over perfect white teeth as Amin retorted contemptuously, "Typical blunder, that sort of barbarism: ruthless slaughter costly to the perpetrator. Norman's calculated brutality made rebellion inevitable. Now that Signe has won, however, she'll find plenty to occupy her in a world devastated by a decade of systematic looting."

  The deep voice turned softly ruminative as the visitor added, "What I've gleaned from hearsay about Norman's nemesis positively fascinates me." A slight pause occurred as a lusty captain possessed of an enviable reputation as a charmer of ladies, even among spacers who prided themselves on the number and variety of their conquests, recalled certain facets of the legend. "Sigurd's daughter commands fanatical devotion," he observed musingly. "A warrior who's all woman, I'd guess her to be--matured, but not coarsened by her experience. She's foreign to yours and mine, though, I've no doubt, chief. I simply cannot envision a female combatant, and most assuredly not a female swordsman who routinely fought hand-to-hand--against Third Corpsmen , no less--and held her own!"

  Nor can I--but the reality exists , the listener silently conceded.

  "Bastard or not, Norman's a warrior. He handpicked those rapacious curs he led, for fighting ability and ruthlessness. He unleashed them on a civilian populace steeped in a tradition of pacifism, and countenanced what can only be called atrocities. Signe must stand in a class by herself: a wholly unique woman."

  "A damned dangerous one," Arlen shot back, reflecting that Amin's perception of Norman's conquest perfectly matched his own. "I've got enough on my hands right now walking a sword-edge over an abyss--consolidating my hold on the state while avoiding civil strife--without the added burden of fighting a war in space, now or in the future. If she'd rest content to administer her liberated world, I'd leave Signe to the task unmolested, but I'll wager a liter of the best brandy available in the capital against a shot of mediocre whisky on my belief that she harbors no such intent."

  "The notion strikes me that you'd better concentrate on the now, or you might not be around to face any nebulous future challenges," the visitor predicted in a tone of chilling certainty.

  Genuine mirth infused the laugh forming the response of the leader warmed by his realization that this subordinate at least, curried no favor, and spoke his thought frankly to his autocratic superior without first calculating the effect his bluntness might wreak on his career. "Considering that one of my four rivals undoubtedly engineered Leon's assassination, and another spent ten Earthyears cruelly oppressing a civilian populace, and all four commanders aspire to my present eminence, your assessment smacks of understatement, Amin."

  So it does. So beware, old friend!

  "I've pushed Norman to the wall: relegated Third Corps--what survives of it--to carrying out its former, mostly ceremonial duty of guarding our officials, military and civilian, during public functions. Defeat at Signe's hands rendered Norman relatively ineffectual, but during my two-Earthyear tenure as Commander-in-Chief, Galt has strengthened his hold on power. The Commander of Second Corps cleverly assumed some functions formerly in the domain of the Minister of Internal Security, knowing that I don't dare jeopardize the support I've thus far received from key figures in the civil government, by arbitrarily reversing decisions made by an influential official in the course of his day-to-day operation of his ministry. Dexter and Courtney bide their time while clinging stubbornly to what power I find it politic to leave them."

  "You've made solid gains since you outmaneuvered all of your self-serving a
ssociates right after Leon's assassination--to the undoubted chagrin of whichever of your four rivals wiped the First Minister." Amin's mind flashed back to that pivotal three hours. Arlen saw his chance and seized it , he acknowledged with respect. For sheer cold nerve, few men equal him. For the ability to react swiftly during a crisis with that extraordinary combination of intelligence, imagination, and daring, none do.

  "I may shortly need to employ supremely risky means to render my position wholly unassailable." The military dictator, who still personally commanded the Fifth Columbian Military Corps, ventured that blunt avowal of his intentions without the least qualm, knowing this subordinate to be utterly trustworthy.

  "Rest assured that you can count on me to back you to the hilt," Amin asserted promptly and vigorously.

  "If I harbored a shade of doubt that my oldest friend and senior captain might fail me in an hour of crucial need, I'd scarcely have gambled on the moves that gained me what I've won," the Commander-in-Chief responded, favoring his subordinate with an ironic smile. "During the next six fourweeks, we'll see a turning point in Columbia's history."

  "Perhaps," the man not entirely convinced of the truth of that final assertion replied equably.

  "Well. Call here every morning at 0600, while you're on leave. I told Danner to do the same. I'll impose on you now for an additional favor--one I hate to ask of a man who just docked. Dahl has been manning my board for nine straight hours. He downed a sandwich at 1300, while he worked. Spell him for thirty minutes, would you, so that he can eat a hot meal? Oblige me by keeping out anyone clamoring to see me--unless his business strikes you as vitally important--until Dahl gets back, and you depart to take Evan's advice?"

  "I'll guard your inner sanctum like the mythical eagle, and ask Dahl to bring you back a hot meal, chief."

  "Karyn will have my dinner ready when I get home."

  "It's 2010 now. I'll wager you haven't eaten since 1300--if then."