by Sharon Lee
Vepal stood at the sidelines at parade rest, and waited for duty to be done.
* * *
Pilot Erthax sat on the edge of the chair, back straight, both feet on the floor. A pilot on the edge of action, in fact. Agent ter'Menth allowed him to remain so, while she played at tidying things away on the blank screen before her. He was, she thought, rather more patient than she had supposed he would be; though his control over his expression was not nearly so fine as Vepal's. Still, it was to be expected; that command should be the ideal to which all lesser troops must aspire.
"So," she said, without, yet, fully looking at him; "you are come behind your commander's back, to make your own arrangement with Perdition Enterprises?"
There was a moment of charged silence. She heard him take a hard breath.
"You would have me to be without honor," he said, "but you have not yet heard what I have to say."
"Then speak," she said, meeting his eyes squarely. "I will listen until – ah, until I grow bored, does that seem just to you? When I am bored, I will call your commander and desire him to take you into his care."
Interestingly, he laughed, a soft, disdainful sound.
"That is fair, recruiter of soldiers. I will speak quickly, not to risk you growing bored by the sound of my voice."
Another breath, as if to prepare himself for a long speech, which he began, keeping his gaze locked with hers.
"Commander Vepal does not have the ear of the High Command. He is malkonstituita – scorned, impotent. A laughing-stock, as I think the phrase may go. If you wish to deal with the High Command, and I think you do, you will need someone whose messages they read; and whose advice they listen to."
"And this would be you?"
He did not move his eyes from hers.
"Yes."
"I seem to recall that Commander Vepal is an ambassador between the Yxtrang and the whole rest of the universe," she said, watching him closely.
He laughed again.
"Oh, he is that! He is a Hero, and a fool, and because he is the first, he cannot be executed for the second. So, he was given a title, and a mission, and sent away; High Command hoping that the universe would kill him, sooner than late. Me, they set to watch him, and to report his actions. If you want to send a message to the High Command, Recruiting Agent, you need me."
It did seem as though the pilot was telling the truth. However. . .
"I recall that Commander Vepal sent two high security messages from this station, bound for Temp Headquarters."
"He did, yes. They were decoys. I have the texts here."
He reached to the pouch on his belt, and pulled out two thin sheets of hard copy.
"All of his messages are copied to my files," he told her, putting the papers on the desk before her.
She glanced down, but of course could not read them.
"I will need to have these translated, but for the moment, let us suppose that you will tell me what they say."
"Yes."
He tapped the first page.
"This addresses the Finance Officer on the matter of short payments to our expedition." He glanced up at her, and smiled, teeth very apparent.
"You see that he has no standing. The Troop does not cheat the Troop."
"I am informed," she said, truthfully. "And this next one?"
"That is to the Records Officer, inquiring after the current roster of High Commanders."
"So it may be that he strives to do what he was asked," said ter'Menth, "but merely wishes to ensure that he addresses the correct authority."
"Possibly. But he might have also sent a high-security message to the Secretary of Council, who would have distributed it to the High Command."
"I see. So, stipulate that Commander Vepal is stalling, and is not dealing with honor. What do you want?"
Another toothy smile.
"I want to help you. I will send your message to the Secretary of Council."
"So kind," she said, blandly. "And in return for this, you will want – what?"
"A command," he said promptly, which did not surprise her, "the ship I pilot – " here he paused, as if coming to agreement with himself. "And Vepal."
Certainly, it was a bargain she could make, with very little chance of damage to herself or the mission. She inclined her head.
"I accept your assistance and your terms," she told him. "Payment upon receipt of a reply from High Command."
"I agree," he said.
"Good. You may use the sealed unit in this facility to send your message. I will give you the text."
His look of extreme satisfaction faded a little.
"Better it is sent from the ship, with the proper equipment."
"No, I insist that you use our equipment. Forgive me, but this ship of yours seems not in the least secure. My equipment does not leak."
He thought a moment, then thrust his chin forward.
"Yes," he said. "I am ready now."
"Excellent," she said. "Allow me to call my expert, so that there will be no misunderstanding regarding the message, and then we two will repair to the comm center."
* * *
Inspection ended, and the Paladins were dismissed. JinJee Sanchez strolled over to him. Vepal was aware of many eyes on her – on them – and recalled the troop's wager. His ears burned, but he kept his face soldierly, and his demeanor everything that a commander should display before a valued colleague.
"Vepal," she said, reaching his side. "I am happy to see you." She paused, searching his face, and put her hand on his arm.
"What is wrong?"
He glanced around at the multitude of bright, interested eyes, not all of which dropped modestly when his gaze crossed theirs.
"Possibly nothing is wrong," he said, returning his attention to her scarred, strong face. "But I would like to discuss the matter with you. . .in a more private setting."
That may have been misphrased; he heard one of those nearest repeat . . .a more private setting and turn sharply to her mate. JinJee heard, surely, the corner of her mouth lifted in a half-smile.
"I will be pleased to be private with you," she said, her voice pitched to be heard by the farthest soldier. Vepal wished he could share her amusement, but the worry that had brought him here was stronger than when he had left Recruiter ter'Menth.
"Come," he said brusquely, and turned back in the direction of the food hub, JinJee at his side. "To our regular table, I think."
She walked beside him, smile deepening at the sound of stealthy footsteps behind them.
"Did you wager as well?" Vepal asked her, with some bitterness.
She shot an amused glanced up into his face.
"I, wager? For shame, Comrade. You know as well as I do that commanders must withhold themselves from such public displays."
She paused briefly, and added, as one being fair.
"Of course, nothing prevents one from wagering with oneself. Does it?"
He was, for a moment, diverted – and a moment was everything that they needed.
There were six of them, in leather, guns belted, blades out.
"Keep 'im occupied; we'll take her," was the growled order, barely heard over the thunder of their boots on decking and a shout that was perhaps meant to freeze him with terror.
Vepal roared, to show them how it was done, and swept out an arm, knocking the nearest of his three against the wall, where he struck with a boom, and slid to the deck, head lolling, knife fallen from lax fingers.
The second made the error of leading with her knife. He broke her wrist, took the blade away, and thrust her, too, against the wall. She struck with a cry, and also slid to the deck, no more than dazed, by Vepal's estimation, but with the fight gone out of her.
The third – but the third was abruptly removed from his consideration by a merc in gleaming leathers, who disarmed the attacker handily, snaked an arm around his neck, and brought him to his knees on the deck.
Vepal spun, but JinJee's attackers were in like cas
e, scattered like so many fallen batons on the deck. Several of the Paladins moved among them, retrieving weapons and applying restraints.
"This one's awake, Commander," said the soldier who had taken Vepal's third. She gave him a conscious look.
"Sorry to spoil your fun, sir."
He considered her, found the humor at the edge of her face, and gave her a nod.
"Not at all," he said courteously. "It would have been rude to keep them all for myself."
The shadow humor blossomed into a grin, and she hauled her prisoner 'round on his knees as Commander Sanchez arrived to look down upon him.
"Orburt Vinkleer," she said.
He grinned, showing a gap between his teeth.
"Hi, JinJee. Lookin' fine."
She did not return the compliment.
"Did you mean to attack myself and Commander Vepal, or are you merely drunk?"
"Orders," he said, his grin widening. "Just followin' orders, zackly like a bought 'n paid for merc."
"Whose orders?"
His grin became a laugh.
"Why would I tell you that?"
"Why wouldn't you? A solid client roster must be to your benefit, as you seek. . .legitimate work."
"Signed the NDA, didn't I?"
"Did you? Will your commander be angry, that you failed in your mission?" She glanced about them, before returning to Orburt Vinkleer.
"At least, I assume that this was not the outcome you envisioned."
"Just showing what happens to them who don't sign on nor get out. Little demonstration for the other hanger-ons."
"Ah, I see." She considered the man, and suddenly snapped out.
"What is the target?"
"Like to know, wouldn't cha?"
"In fact, I would; wouldn't you?"
He made as if to shrug, an action his restraints made difficult.
"S'long's they pay me, I don't care who we hit."
"Of course not," JinJee said politely. "Very well, Orburt. My soldiers will escort you to your quarters. Try anything like this again, and you will be returned in a body bag. This may be a game to you, but we are professionals."
She nodded at the soldier holding the prisoner.
"Get them out of here," she said. "No need to be gentle."
"Yes, Commander," said the soldier, and yanked Orburt Vinkleer to his feet.
Others moved, grabbing the downed fighters and throwing them ungently into field carries. Vepal and JinJee watched them out of sight; he very much aware of the four Paladins flanking them, at a respectful distance, and also of the glow along his nerves, the feeling of power rising in his muscles; the first signs of the euphoria. The little skirmish had been enough to waken biology, but not enough to finish it.
He took a breath. He was an Explorer. He was in command of biology.
Teeth set, he bowed his head, and spread his hands.
"My apologies," he said to JinJee; "I came to warn you of this possibility."
She considered him, silent, her expression speculative. It came to him suddenly that the possibility that he had come specifically to guide her into this trap fell well within the bounds of logic. He took a breath, and met her eye.
"I did not," he said, "think that anything would happen so – soon."
"I see," she said then, and gave him a nod.
"I would like to hear what it was you were going to tell me before we were interrupted," she said, then. "I wonder if you will join me in my quarters? On board our ship."
For him, this was a test, Vepal thought. For JinJee, it was an extra measure of security.
He nodded, feeling the telltale shiver in his blood. Taking another breath, he refused the euphoria of battle. He was civilized; he was rational. There was nothing, any longer, for him to fight.
"I'll be pleased to attend you in your quarters, Comrade."
* * *
"The Commander has not returned," Ochin Rifle stated. He did not say the rest of it; could not say the rest of it, as Erthax outranked him. But it was plain for any of the Troop to hear, unvoiced as it was.
Erthax had failed. He had failed his duty to the ship and to the commander.
He, however, Erthax thought, was not a Rifle. He was a pilot; his wits were quick, and his ability to spin a tale far superior to anything that the Rifle might produce. The Rifle was limited to statements of fact, no matter how damning. Erthax was able to be. . .creative.
"The Commander has not returned," he agreed. "He saw me, and he was very much displeased. He ordered me back to the ship. We are to lock down until he arrives, which he will do when, in his sole judgment, it is time to do so."
Ochin frowned.
"You were clumsy," he said – a reinterpretation of what Erthax had told him. Not fact.
"You think the commander is so inept he wouldn't have seen me?" he answered, certain that it would be hours before Ochin could untwist himself from that.
"You were clumsy, because you did not convince him to have you, even when you were both already out." Ochin pulled himself up, and looked directly into Erthax's eyes.
"I have followed so myself, – twice. Both times, he took me, rather than to have me walk the docks alone."
The implication was plain: A mere Rifle had accomplished this, that a pilot had not.
Erthax held onto his temper, which was already frayed. He needed the Rifle, if not to stand with him, than at least to not stand against him.
"You are correct," he said moderately. "I did not try very hard to keep to him, once he had sent me away. My pride was touched, I think."
Ochin did not say what he thought of pride, if, indeed, a mere Rifle might be equipped to contemplate the concept.
"Now that I am here, shamed or not," Erthax continued; "our part is to follow his orders. We should lock down until he arrives."
"Yes," Ochin said after a moment. "That is all that we can do. Now."
There was a pause before he added.
"You should know that in fact the commander called, before you returned. The decks are uncertain. We are to remain locked down until he comes back. He will call again when he is on this level, to give us the order to open."
Erthax took a very careful breath. So close to being discovered, then.
"We will obey," he said.
CHAPTER FIVE
Her quarters. . .surprised.
Vepal had expected a soldier's cell; much like his own, on ship, or perhaps a little larger, like his permanent quarters at Temp Headquarters.
He had not. . .imagined that there would be pale cloth draped 'round walls and ceiling, nor a carpet far richer in pattern and in color than any other he had seen on-station.
Muscles aching, he stood at parade rest, watching her cross the room to a small auto-kitchen, and turn to look at him.
"Will you have something to quench the dust of – we can scarcely call it a battle, I think. Perhaps skirmish?"
"Thank you," he said stiffly. "No."
"I see."
She came back, stopping within what had become a comfortable speaking distance between them.
"I suppose that you will refuse a chair, too, until you tell me. So, then, Comrade – tell me."
He bowed, slight and stiff.
"I returned to my ship this evening and learned that Recruiting Agent ter'Menth had called during my absence, demanding that I come to her at my earliest convenience. I went immediately."
He paused to review a distancing exercise, and continued.
"She asked when I might expect an answer from High Command. I made an excuse, and also a bid for more information, which was turned aside. She then came to what seemed to be her core purpose.
"She said that I was often seen in the company of Commander Sanchez, and wondered how we had come to know each other. I told her the circumstances of our first meeting, and added that you were useful both to me and to Perdition Enterprises. By introducing me to merc command, you were creating an opportunity for we who will hopefully soon be united in a glorio
us mission to gain the measure of our comrades."
He could feel himself shivering with need. If he didn't engage in physical exercise soon, he would collapse in an ignominious heap of cramped muscles. JinJee might then amuse herself by having him delivered to her command's common area, where he might be mocked by all.
"Recruiter ter'Menth made note that you called only on mercs, and not on those who were . . .other. I suggested perhaps that you did not wish to intrude upon them, having no acquaintance among them to ease your way, as you eased mine. It seemed apt enough when I said it, but it appeared to me that it gave her thoughts an odd trajectory. She said, 'Perhaps I shall make it my business to mend that situation for her.' It made me. . .uneasy, and I came to lay the matter before you, even though I half-believed I was being foolish."
"And now we have learned that you were not foolish at all, and that Recruiting Agent ter'Menth likes to make mischief when she grows bored. Unfortunately, if her goal was to widen my acquaintance, she chose badly – I am well acquainted with Commodore Vinkleer. Now."
She crossed her arms over her chest, and sent him a stern look, such as a commander might bend upon a trainee who had failed to enumerate all of his weapons.
"I will leave you now," Vepal stated.
"No," she said. "Now, you will tell me what ails you, Comrade. Were you struck? If so, you must come with me to our medic. Vinkleer's rabble have been known to doctor their blades, and those who don't never clean them. The chance of infection is not trivial."
"No, I – I must go," he said. He was shivering in earnest now. How he was to achieve his ship in this state, he hardly knew. Yet, to betray himself before JinJee. . .
"No, you must not," she said, command voice snapping hard enough to allow him to gain some control. "You are plainly ill. You will sit down. I will call the medic to –"
"No!"
It was a roar. JinJee raised an eyebrow.
"I – no medic," he managed. "Please. It is – only biology."
A second eyebrow rose.
"How so?"
"The skirmish, as you so aptly put it," he said. "It was long enough to trigger a – a release of. . .specialized hormones. However, it was neither long enough nor violent enough to burn them. If I do not act – soon – my muscles will cramp and I will be unable. . ."
