She shook herself from side to side, pulling away in spite of his hold on her wrists. “I wanted only to be a healer, nothing more. But they made me take additional training. They showed me the Writings. They forced me to acquire a hunger for higher knowledge. And now they punish me for it. Why, Brock? Why?”
He held her still and forced her to look at him. “Ellisne!” he said sharply. “What do you feel? At this moment?”
She tried to pull free, but he would not let her.
“Ellisne! Answer me!”
“Fear. Betrayal.” Frowning, she would not meet his eyes.
“Beneath that,” he said insistently. “Look! Be honest.”
“I can’t—”
“You must!” He shook her roughly. “Tell me how you feel!”
She gave a low cry and with sudden strength jerked her hands free to press them to her chest over her atrox. She shut her eyes as though to shut him away. Her face was drawn and colorless.
“I hate them!” It was a cry of sheer pain. “It is all a game to them. It’s all a lie. I hate them! I want to make them—”
Her eyes flew open, and she stopped the words with an audible gasp. “No,” she whispered. “I mustn’t. It’s wrong to say such things.”
“Say them, Ellisne. You must say them. The magstrusi have hurt you. They have played with your mind and then discarded you with contempt. Haven’t you the right to disobey one Forbidden? Just one? Tell me now. What do you want to make them do?”
“I want to make them die!”
And then she was in his arms, trembling uncontrollably from the lash of her emotions. He held her close, leaving himself unshielded so that he could share and absorb her grief and bitter hurt. There had been no one to hold him all those years ago. But he had survived because of his own strengths. And now, as his arms tightened about this lovely, stricken woman, he felt the relief of being able to finally trust her. The timestream where she stood as a future assassin was sealed off. With a sigh, he closed his eyes.
He waited until the trembling had stopped and she was leaning quietly against him, spent from her own emotions and his. Then he gently touched her temple, her ear, and her chin with his fingertip in the formal gesture of request.
“Share with me,” he whispered. “Even part way. I know we cannot flick together or even drift because of my atrox, but—”
“Hush.” She laid a finger gently across his lips to silence him, then touched his chin, ear, and temple in the formal answer. Her eyes glowed into his with gratitude and trust, mirroring that which was awakening in his own heart. “I am strong enough for both of us. Let us share. Teach me, Brock.”
11
The security monitor focused on Nls Ton as he sprawled on a vast Chaimu bed. His sand tiger slept at his feet. The soft light from glowtapes played across irridescent hangings. Her face expressionless, Falmah-Al pressed a switch and the monitor zoomed in on his face. The soft jowls and slack open mouth repulsed her. He was gaining weight upon the rich delicacies of Impryn. He had stopped his obligatory exercise routine and dispensed the duty of daily troop reviews to his deputies. In private he wore the exquisite robes of a Chaimu honorable, his soft hands caressing the delicate cloth colored in hues none of them had ever seen before. He threw parties for select members of his administration who ate and drank themselves into stupors until dawn. His chambers were decorated with priceless objects spirited away from the plundered treasuries designated for shipment back to Kentra. Falmah-Al had carefully documented every priceless gwirleye secreted away under the lock of his seal. He was amassing an enormous private fortune for himself. She made no effort to remind him of regulations and his violations of them. Ton had always been ambitious, but at long last his greed had overwhelmed his caution. He was governor on the treasure house of the entire Held. Kentra was far away, and the whole Collective was euphoric with victory. Many standards had been relaxed, but that would not last for long. Falmah-Al hummed quietly to herself as she switched the monitor back to auto. She had enough documented on Ton to make sure his head would roll in the next purge. She might even use him to start one. Or she might yet decide to utilize the Fet device her people had located this morning near Ton’s chambers. Fet assassins were supposed to be among the best in a culture that accepted poisons and vendettas as a daily fact of life.
She slid her hand carefully over the sleek black surface of the small conical device, feeling the play of temptations. It would be so easy to arm the device and slip it into the security monitor now patrolling Ton’s chambers. He need never awaken from his nap.
No! Her hand jerked back as though burnt. She would not use Held ways, not even to exact her own revenge.
Abruptly she left the monitor booth, stepping out past two guards who snapped to attention. Her deputy was a slim young woman in a plain black uniform who was waiting for her with a salute.
“Is my shuttle ready?”
“Standing by, Colonel.” Tirza held out a flimsy with the correct amount of deference in her eyes. She was newly assigned and Falmah-Al found it a refreshing change to be able to trust the person at her back. “This message just arrived from Major Millen.”
Falmah-Al’s stomach tightened. She snatched the flimsy and read it in a glance. “Gazal atallah Im,” she swore, calling down enough blasphemies to make the deputy gasp, and headed outside for her shuttle at a run.
She sprang up the steps through the hatch and slapped her hand in a loud thump against the bulkhead behind the cockpit. “Molaud! Take it up! Zist!” She glared at Tirza scrambling aboard with a clumsy leap just as Molaud activated hatch closure. The engines whined shrilly as the shuttle swung around in a slow arc, already lifting in a maneuver that used an enormous amount of fuel but shaved minutes from take-off time.
Falmah-Al threw herself into a seat and fastened the safety restraints. “Tirza, as soon as we are in the clear, get me By-Rami. Yes, I know he’s off the duty roster for this week, but that’s changed now. I need him.”
The deputy bent over the communications board and as soon as they shot up over the city into a dark bank of clouds that buffeted them with sharp turbulence, Tirza flipped on the speaker and nodded to Falmah-Al.
“I have him on, Colonel.”
Falmah-Al leaned forward “Major, you’re back on duty. I’m putting you in charge of the governor’s personal security in my place.”
There was the briefest of pauses as By-Rami absorbed this sudden change of status. Then he said, “How long will you be gone?”
“Unknown. Deep space,” she replied curtly.
“There’s been a positive on the scanners?”
She frowned. They were on open communications. She did not answer the question. “I know I can trust you to guard the governor’s safety. I’m preparing my official log now on the shuttle. Deliver it to Ton first priority.”
“Yes, Colonel. Any other instructions concerning the governor’s well-being?”
“No.” She was not ready to strike against Ton, and she didn’t want By-Rami getting too eager. “I’ve advised the governor against making that inspection to the camps and he’s agreed to postpone it. Tregher has become a useless bore. There should be no need for enhanced security, but use your own judgment if trouble arises.”
“Acknowledged.”
Falmah-Al leaned back, and Tirza cut communications. Damn, damn, damn. Falmah-Al’s fingers drummed against the arm of her seat. She’d given the dire-lord all the rope she dared and then some. Ton was sitting back and watching her stick her neck out farther and farther on this gamble, and he made no secret of how quickly he would chop her career in half if she failed to deliver the godas she’d promised. Now it looked like that ghost was going to elude her after all. Deep space! He was aiming at nothing, leading them nowhere, laughing at them. Damn him and his lying ghost-woman! She’d see them both fried. She’d peel them down to their skeletons layer by layer. She’d take them to their home planet and let them watch while she destroyed it just as she had Mabruk.
Then there would be no more damned ghosts. Falmah-Al threw back her head and laughed, but there was no amusement in the sound.
Millen was waiting for her at the airlock leading to the trim little courier sloop already prepped for departure. “The cruiser Im Naga is waiting just beyond the Mystbellian Cloud for a rendezvous, Colonel,” he said without preamble and without a salute.
She glared at him but came aboard the sloop with suitable piping from the crew. It did no good to reprimand Millen for details he considered unimportant. He was the best man she had. She left him alone.
“Welcome aboard, Colonel,” said the lean first officer of the sloop. “We’re ready to go at your word.”
“Then go,” she snapped. “We have no time to waste.”
“Aye, aye.” He stepped to the intercom. “Colonel and party are aboard, Captain.”
Minutes later the sloop was easing out of space dock. Falmah-Al, followed by Millen and Tirza, made her way immediately to the small but efficient bridge where a crewman showed her the tiny blip on the long-range scanners.
“It doesn’t make sense,” said Millen, expressing the frustration she was hiding now. His flat yellow eyes squinted at the screen. “They’ve been holding this course for days. They’ve even refueled once. The plotted completion for their current trajectory is nothing. Our charts aren’t mapped in that area.”
“Heldfleet?”
“Our long scanners could pick them up. There’s nothing out there.”
“And all the spies can tell us is that the godas are closer in. Gazal!” Falmah-Al shook her head. “What is the fool doing? Tregher assured us under authority probe that the dire-lord is determined to activate them. Why, then, is he going in this direction?”
“Perhaps he’s on to us.”
Her exasperation flared out. “How could he be? Held technology is behind ours. They haven’t scanners even approaching the range that we have.”
“Still, he could be deliberately leading us wrong.”
Her head snapped up. “Millen, what are you saying? Do you suspect that our mental protectors aren’t working?” Behind Falmah-Al, Tirza surreptiously rubbed the spot behind her ear.
“No, no,” said Millen with an irritable shrug. “It’s just a hunch. It’s just a postulated explanation for the dire-lord’s actions.”
“I don’t want guesses, I want facts!” snapped Falmah-Al, slamming her hand down upon the top of the screen. “Say you’re right, Millen. Say he suspects we’re watching him. Say he’s taking his time in an effort to throw us off the trail. He knows, damn him, that we can’t afford not to find them soon. The Collective is divided now by those mewling idiots who fear our military successes will cause the godas to be set off. We could all be recalled if there’s a turnover in government.” She clenched her fists. ‘‘I want those godas. And I want them now.”
She nodded at the captain, who was on the other side of the bridge beside his first officer. Both were making a pretence of not listening to her and Millen.
“Gentlemen, how long until we rendezvous with that cruiser?”
“Approximately two days at current speed, Colonel.”
“Increase speed, and open communications to them. I want an intercept course already plotted by the time I come on board. The dire-lord is to be overtaken and stopped.”
“Aye, aye, Colonel.” The captain’s gaze swung away and he began issuing rapid-fire orders in a low, calm voice.
Millen snorted. “How are you going to force the information from the dire-lord? We tried that once, and it failed.”
“It might have succeeded if the ghost-woman hadn’t intervened.”
“I doubt it.”
Falmah-Al drew in her breath with an angry hiss, but Millen’s flat yellow eyes never wavered.
“I went over that interrogation machine myself, Colonel. He wasn’t responding. He wasn’t even close to responding when she rescued him. Half the readouts didn’t register, and the rest were unreliable because of calibration errors. He’s Sedkethran, not human. Our methods aren’t—”
“Stop telling me what we can’t do,” she broke in. “I want a positive course of action.”
“All right.” Millen lifted a hand in a casual shrug. “The dire-lord is running a bluff. He’s the only one in the galaxy who knows the location of the godas.”
“Yes! So?”
“So we already know from talking to Tregher and that deputy of his…um, Davn, that no one in the Held wants the godas to be activated. The suprin must have ordered Brock to start galactic annihilation. Otherwise, I don’t think he’d be doing it.”
“Perhaps,” said Falmah-Al impatiently. “His motivations are of little concern.”
“Aren’t they? If he’s running under orders he’ll never surrender his information, no matter what method we try. What we must do is call his bluff.”
“How?”
“By threatening to blow him out of space.” Millen’s lips curled to reveal white, evenly spaced teeth. “If he dies the godas can’t be activated. Because no one else knows where they are. The Collective will be safe.”
Falmah-Al frowned, considering it. “Good, but it isn’t sufficient just to destroy him. I want those—”
“Of course. I am merely stating the worst scenerio first.”
“But he still has no inducement to tell us their locations. I have read about dire-lords, Millen. They go to the death for their suprins. He may even be eager to die at our hands.” She turned away. “No, I don’t like it. I want those locations. It isn’t enough to merely plug the hole. I want—”
“Power.” Millen’s eyes met hers as she glared at him. “I haven’t seen you this ambitious in a long time, Colonel.”
“It’s necessary.”
“Then convince the dire-lord that you want to deactivate the godas. Sedkethrans abhor war. Build on that argument.”
Falmah-Al shook her head skeptically. “He may be a Sedkethran, but he’s also a deviant.”
Millen cocked his head to one side and sent her an odd look. “And I thought you always claimed you could outnegotiate Ton if you ever had the chance.”
The barb hurt more than she expected, but she hid it by turning her back on the major. “I’ll consider your suggestions,” she said stiffly.
“Kezi,” he said as though in apology.
“Yes.” She flashed him a brief look to stop him from saying more there on the bridge. Inside emotions battled her. Why was she such a fool? She had wasted her youth loving Nls Ton, who had discarded her after she bore two dead children. And now she wanted a half-breed mercenary when her whole career and standing in society would be destroyed at the first hint of anything more than professional comradeship with someone who was not purely human. Why did she throw herself into these no-win situations? Keeping her feet professionally was difficult enough; she did not need to battle her heart as well. Only Millen’s own coolness toward her had thus far kept her safe. If he changed now…if he softened…she would be lost.
She moved away from him, aware of his gaze upon her, aware of those odd alien eyes that both repulsed and compelled her. Oh, to be far away and free, where she could wear the traditional drapings of an Imish woman for the privacy of her man without spies or recriminations! But that was not what she really wanted. She thrived on the challenges of the military. She lived for the chance to rise high upon the ladder of power. The soft ways of a woman were only her fantasy, discarded as she had been discarded.
“I’ll consider your suggestions more carefully, Major,” she said in a neutral tone of voice and left the bridge for the refuge of her quarters.
Brock was seated in the cramped corner of what constituted the galley, engaged in trying to resynthesize the contents of a food packet into something more palatable when the sharp whoop of alert sounded. He swept everything into a bin with one motion and ran for the cockpit where Rho and Ellisne were seated side by side. Rho was hissing, and Ellisne’s face was an expressionless mask. Only the darkness of her eye
s and her hands clenched rigidly on the edge of the control console revealed her fear.
“Rho! Status!” snapped Brock, looking at the viewscreen and seeing nothing but innocuous stars scattered across a field of black.
“Sensors just picked up a heavy battle cruiser closing on our starboard side, bearing zero mark five.” Rho stabbed around on his board, and the alert abruptly cut off. “Interception in approximately forty-five minutes.”
Brock covered his dismay by switching the screen to their starboard and increasing magnification to maximum. All he got was a blurred shape too dim to distinguish any characteristics.
“Held or Imish configuration?”
There was a pause while Rho checked the readings. “Merc! Imish power emission.”
“Meir above,” said Brock softly, feeling as though he’d been kicked in the stomach. Either they’d inadvertently crossed someone’s scanning range and were being checked out, or else Falmah-Al had decided he’d gone far enough. “I hoped we’d finally found Heldfleet.”
Rho whistled disconsolately. So had they all.
“Increase speed,” said Brock, snapping back to the matter at hand. “Evasion maneuvers.”
“If we burn more fuel we won’t make it to the next fueling stop,” said Rho.
“If they catch us we won’t need to refuel,” said Brock grimly.
Silently Rho switched helm controls to manual.
“Ellisne,” said Brock. “Call up astrogation. We’ve got to find a place to hide. Look for dust clouds, nebulas, asteroid belts, anything in close range.”
But she was already shaking her head. “There’s nothing. Nothing close by.”
The Goda War Page 14
