by K S Augustin
And, with her arms now full, Cheloi had no choice but to kiss her.
To finally touch someone, to feel warm living skin beneath one’s fingers, against one’s lips, was wonderful. Cheloi felt Lith stiffen then yield to the embrace.
Cheloi breathed deep, savouring the myriad scents that comprised Lith. Her perfume, the slight fragrance of shampoo rising from stroked hair, dusty perspiration, and the unique enveloping smell of her. She heard the smallest groan, as if pulled reluctantly from the depths of Lith herself then, to her surprise, Lith took the initiative. Holding Cheloi’s face in both hands, she returned the kiss deeply and passionately.
Cheloi suppressed a sigh when Lith pulled away. Their eyes locked, bitter chocolate against warm caramel. Both of them were breathing heavily, but the lieutenant’s face registered shock. Cheloi wanted to calm her, stroke her cheek and reassure her, but she was too slow. Without a word, the junior officer tore her hands away, wrenched herself from Cheloi’s embrace and fled the room, leaving the commander to lean unseeing against the wall, thumping the earth with a half-clenched fist.
What have I done what have I done what have I done!
Lith locked the door to her quarters with a trembling hand and collapsed against the solid panel, boneless.
“What have I done?” she whispered aloud.
She had known of Rumis’ and Grakal-Ski’s absence from dinner that night. She should have thought up an excuse herself. She knew it would be only her and the Colonel in a small enclosed space. Her and the woman who was coming to dominate more of her waking thoughts. Her and the woman who appeared so self-contained and impervious…yet displayed a touching vulnerability at times.
“I had to tempt fate,” she muttered. “I had to act tough.”
She stopped, cast a panicked look at the door and silently swore, afraid that the Colonel would pursue her to her quarters. She moved away and sank onto the edge of her bed.
So many thoughts swirled through her head. Too many.
Nils.
What would he say? He and Lith were sometime lovers as well as being co-conspirators. They had met when Lith was breaking up with her lover at the time. A woman. While the relationship with Onu had been pleasant, Lith felt life had slipped into schedule. It had become boring and predictable. Stifling.
Not that her parents minded the split. Being old-school Perlim, they tried hard to accept the open sexuality of their daughter, but couldn’t. Women pairing with men was the natural order of things. Women pairing with women was something they considered to be a Fusion aberration. For their daughter to do both…! When, a couple of years ago, Onu drifted out of Lith’s life and Nils drifted in, they couldn’t hide their relief.
If only they knew. It was her connection with Nils, not the more bombastic Onu, that had put her on Menon IV. And now she was trading kisses with her enemy. What would Nils think of her, locked in an embrace with the notorious Perlim commander of Territory Nineteen? Sie was the person he despised above all others, blamed above all others for his own plight. She tried to bring Nils’ image to mind. To remember his laughing amber eyes, a match to her own, slim athletic build and brown shaggy hair….
Lith shook her head. It wouldn’t come. All she could think about was—
The Colonel.
What insanity made her think she could control the obvious attraction that had sparked between them? She had been doomed from the second she stood up and faced the Nineteen’s commander, from the moment she realised it was a sentient being she was dealing with and not the monstrous construct she had imagined.
What Cheloi Sie had wakened in her was an inferno next to what she had felt for Onu. Or Nils.
It was Sie’s eyes, with their lambent hint of sombre melancholy, that melted her resistance; Sie’s voice, dark and calm, that mesmerised her. Lith wanted to talk and laugh with Rumis, go drinking with him, play sport with him. But the one body she wanted in bed, naked next to hers, was the Colonel’s.
Lith tried to hush the moan emerging from her throat but failed.
She had spent almost a year in preparation for this very position and had been more fortunate than even Nils had predicted. Drawn into the little group of refugee planners hiding in one small corner of the Fusion, she had agreed with their aims, and with the summation of the Perlim Empire as a brutal galactic anachronism. Their thought of the Perlim as a corrupt institution was vindicated by the small bribes they paid to help set up Lith as a junior officer of the empire’s Ground Forces. She spent six months training, practising and ridding herself of any Fusion-tainted accent, then she “volunteered” for the Menon campaign, working her way closer and closer to her target. Territory Nineteen. Even Nils, in their private moments together, had not expected such success.
And here she was.
She had studied Cheloi Sie in particular, memorising the Colonel’s biography and military record, and she had studied the minute details of the Nineteen, Sie’s command. It all seemed so straightforward that last week on Laeyek Omni B, where she and Nils had snatched hurried moments of intimacy amid the final lecturing, briefings and bribes, hiding from both the Empire and the Fusion. And wasn’t that the greatest irony of all? That the Fusion, who believed in equality and liberty for all, should be the one body who failed them.
It was all the Fusion’s fault, Lith thought resentfully. If only the Lower Convergence had given some time to the petitions of the Free-Perlim Council, then she wouldn’t be here, trying to contain her desire for an inappropriate woman. Was the Council ignored because they were only a few hundred strong in a galactic union of billions? Did their lack of size mean they didn’t have the necessary credentials or connections? Whatever the reason, the dearth of any meaningful result regarding the rest of the wretched people still caught in the raptor’s clench of the Perlim Empire caused Nils, ex-Perlim himself, to break from the rest of the hapless Council. If nobody else had the courage to even begin chipping away at the monstrous edifice, he declared dramatically, then he would. And he formed his own splinter group, with the one overriding objective of bringing down the Empire. Single-handedly if necessary.
Lith thought that was what she had fallen in love with. He spoke so convincingly that she believed every word that came out of his mouth. He told her that she was the obvious candidate to infiltrate the hated Empire and identified Menon IV as the best location for subversion. He informed her that as a junior officer, as well as being a woman and therefore invisible in the male-dominated Perlim military circles, she would be the perfect saboteur. All they needed was the perfect target.
It appeared no facet of the situation was beyond Nils’ planning abilities and winning rhetoric. Because she admired him, because he spoke so persuasively, because she wanted to do something rather than watch her parents continue to sink in misery-riven nostalgia, she was convinced. She threw herself wholeheartedly into his brilliant strategy.
But that was then, when the excitement of her covert mission still ran hot through her veins. When she still had Nils’ fiery looks and brave words to keep her going. But now….
Now Nils was far away and Lith couldn’t even remember his features clearly. Was the colour of his eyes more brown or green? She couldn’t remember. And what did that say about her? Was she shallow and fickle, attracted only to the nearest strong personality? Did that explain her attraction to Colonel Sie?
“She has blood on her hands,” Lith whispered, trying to bolster her own sense of righteousness. “She’s more than a killer. She’s a psychopath.”
As a member of a militant, breakaway faction of the Free-Perlim Council, Lith needed to remember her mission. She had to focus, and keep all other emotional thoughts at bay. She should concentrate on what she managed to do at Bul-Guymem, build on that, and ensure that nothing else interfered with why she was here. Not pity, not compassion, and certainly not lust.
Because, no matter how attractive she found the Colonel, no matter that the kiss they exchanged earlier in the evening was one of t
he most tender, filled with the most promise, of any she had ever experienced, she could not run away from the fact that she was not here to fuck Senior Colonel Cheloi Sie.
She was here to kill her.
Chapter Seven
Day 1,511 of the War:
“Why did you join the Covert section of the Fusion’s political arm?”
“We’ve covered this before, Doctor.”
“Humour me, please.”
Why did she think that talking to an AI construct would be any better than speaking to a real person? Maybe it was because she expected to discuss things once, have the artificial wetware record every word, then move on. She should have known better.
“You’ve seen my psych profile, haven’t you, Doctor?”
“You know I have.”
“Then doesn’t that tell you, far more efficiently than I could, why I joined?”
“It only tells me half the story, Laisen. It tells me why we chose you. It doesn’t tell me why you chose us.”
“Is it really that important?”
Copan seemed to consider it as he pursed his lips. “Yes, I think it is.” He tilted his head to one side. “You belong to a family of five, do you not?”
Just like the real Copan, the virtual Copan was relentless. She sighed.
“Yes.” She reeled off the facts as if reciting them from an e-pad. “Two parents, two older brothers. One brother is on the Galactic Trading Board on Anvil. The other is Chief Examiner for an artisan guild, stationed on Roamer Shun. My parents are semi-retired and holding academic posts on the Floks Nine Semi-Dyson.”
“None of your family has a military background?”
“None that I recall.” Her voice was dry.
“It’s strange in a way,” he mused. “With your skills, and your family’s leaning toward service, I thought a career with the Fusion military would have been a more obvious choice. Instead, you chose the Fusion’s covert arm where you’ve been an operative for,” he hesitated, “twenty years, is it?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Just so. Twenty-one. In that time, if you had joined the Fleet, you would have been promoted to a comfortable desk job by now. Instead, you’re still here, in a very hands-on role, risking your life for something you admit you regard more as a game. And with,” he smiled, “an annoying AI program to keep you company.”
She answered his smile with one of her own. “You are annoying, Doctor. Don’t be in any doubt about it.”
He acknowledged her comment with a gracious nod. “So what do you find attractive about such a position? Is it the autonomy? The variety of missions? Are you happy to be away from your family for such extended periods of time?”
“I get on well enough with my family,” she replied easily. “We’ve always been an independent lot, so I see them as much as any of us would want.” That wasn’t strictly true, but Laisen glossed over the thought. “The autonomy? Yes, I suppose that’s an attraction. Maybe,” she blinked a couple of times and tried to get her thoughts in order, “maybe I like it because it’s the ultimate challenge. Every mission is like a puzzle I’ve been tasked to solve. The question is, can I solve it and still get out in one piece?”
“But there are other challenges in the galaxy. Surely you don’t need to feel you have to constantly put your life on the line in order to accomplish something meaningful?”
She knew where this was leading. She had already built up a certain type of reputation within the covert arm. If there was any dirty work to be done, any potential for remorseless execution, nobody could do it better than Laisen Carros. Maybe twenty years ago, at the beginning of her career, she was an agent like any other. But then something happened. Something that flipped her from a cautious agent to someone relentless. If Copan continued this line of questioning, it was inevitable her record would be discussed. And that would wind its way to Eys. She didn’t want to talk about Eys. The Fusion, Copan, knew about her, but the vault that contained her innermost feelings for the woman she’d once loved was locked tight against Copan’s probing. She would happily even discuss Lith, but not Eys. Not yet.
“You mentioned the military,” she cut in. “Can I tell you why I didn’t join the Fleet, Doctor?”
“Please do.”
“Have you ever treated Fleet personnel?”
“A few.”
“Believe me when I tell you that they’re all the same. Whether they’re Fusion, Nedron, Braan, they just can’t keep a secret.”
“Secret?” He looked puzzled.
“It’s the same here with the Perlim Ground Forces. There isn’t a military structure anywhere in the universe that’s airtight. They leak news, gossip and classified orders the way an antique spacesuit leaks atmosphere. When I’m on the opposite side of a proper army, I try to take advantage of it. When I’m in one, it irritates the hell out of me. If I had joined the Fleet, I’m sure I’d be in a very comfortable position right now, but only if I could weld shut the mouths of every subordinate under my command.”
Copan chuckled. “An astute observation.”
She shook her head. “It’s an impossible situation, being placed in a position of weakness through no fault of your own. Every indiscretion, real or imagined, gets passed along, dissected, commented upon, exploited. But here, on a covert mission, the only person who can betray me is myself.”
He sobered. “And that’s a very real possibility. This is the longest mission you’ve ever been on and only the fifth time a psych-kernel has been inserted in an operative’s brain.”
And the time Copan referred to, the years she’d already spent on Menon IV, didn’t include the months she spent waiting for the opening in the first place. It took almost three years before the Fusion found a good enough substitution for her. Three years while she slogged through Perlim language and culture, history and military tactics, absorbing as much information as she could on the prominent political and military players so she couldn’t be tripped up. The last year was the worst because it came down to nothing more than revision and waiting. Waiting until her assigned target could be killed under the right circumstances. Until the secret document traces could ensure proper revision. Until a capable officer with a solid combat record by the name of Cheloi Sie could be replaced by an impostor who would take the Fusion’s objectives to the next level.
If the real Cheloi Sie had died prematurely during the planning stages of the switch, Laisen would have been stood down and someone else closer to the next-best target would have been ramped up and the cycle repeat itself. This was no action from a young and impetuous conglomerate. If there was one thing she could always depend on, it was the thoroughness of Fusion thinking.
From the moment she had been stealth-displaced into the Thirty-Five, all communication with the Fusion ceased, as much for her own protection as for theirs. But for such an extended mission, they didn’t just drop her in and forget her. They knew there would be crushing pressure coming from many sides. So they added a neural psych-kernel to give her an outlet for her thoughts, instructed her on how to activate the wetware in her sleep and, after repeatedly asking her to confirm she wanted to be a part of this, altered her, sent her in and wished her the best of luck.
There was only one circumstance under which she would contact the Fusion again, and that was when she was ready for extraction. The signalling hardware, crafted from bone matrix, was concealed in her left wrist and programmed to burn out in fifteen seconds, after it completed sending three brief bursts of location information into the ether. From the moment she sent the signal, the time to rescue was measured in minutes. She didn’t know how the Fusion managed to pinpoint and remove someone so quickly but they had never failed, never in her twenty-one years of field work.
Days ago, she thought she would ask Copan about the likelihood of finally retiring. But the idea of extraction brought up a subject she felt was much more immediate.
“You’re sure I can’t take anyone away with me?”
She was thinkin
g of Rumis.
“Major Swonnessy belongs to a different society, Laisen.” The real Copan would have been irritated with repeating himself so many times, but the wetware version was relentlessly polite and understanding. Maybe that’s why Laisen kept bringing up the subject. The virtual Copan never seemed to know when to say enough was enough, and she still harboured the faint hope she could talk it around to her point of view.
“I know it’s very difficult to live a life for several years and not become attached to the surrounding people, but you must resist. Perhaps after this conflict is over, you can consider approaching him, but I would still caution you to leave such contact for a few years until he’s had a chance to adjust to a new life and create some mental distance between himself and his past. A personality can become dangerously volatile if confronted by a shocking revelation so soon after a period of extended trauma.”
Extended trauma. That’s how Copan described the bloodbath of Menon. The phrase levelled everyone to the status of victim, whether they were Perlim, Menon…or Fusion.
“And I can fuck Lith but not fall in love with her?” she asked with a twist of her lips.
He nodded, not the least bit offended. “That would be the best strategy.”
She leant back in her chair, clearly dissatisfied. The simulation was so complete, she heard the frame creak as she settled her weight into it.
“At least the Fusion is doing something about the Perlim situation,” Copan said into the morose silence.
Was the program bringing up small talk because it felt sorry for her?
She flicked her hand in a nonchalant gesture. “We have a lot of refugees from along the Laeyek border,” thoughts of Lith surfaced momentarily, “but they’re being treated properly enough as it is, without needing to know any more.” She suppressed a snort. “If only the Free-Perlim Council had an idea of what we were really up to.”
