A weary Anatolia had risen to her feet, collecting her belongs as she read the lists of files scrolled across the monitor. She caught one of the names at a glance.
SUBJECT: VET HAMLIN
With quick fingers, Anatolia accessed the file, dropping into her chair, thoughts of the shuttle vanished. Around her, people were busily tapping keys, or soberly giving the system verbal commands.
Someone whooped, shouting: "I've got her personal journal! I'm patching it straight through to Chrysla!" Anatolia stared in disbelief as Vet Hamlin's file filled her
screen. The biographical data were accurate, listing Vet's mother and father, their addresses, ages, political status, and vital statistics. Marka's name came up, and the baby's.
The text of the file began with Vet's arrest. Minuteg passed as a stunned Anatolia read the entire transcript of the interrogation. Mouth gone dry, heart pounding, she read the final entry:
SUBJECT DISPOSITION:VET HAMLIN WAS GIVEN LETHAL INJECTION AT 5779:17:19:08:05.
CORPSE DISPOSED OF AT CREMATORIUM C-3.
Other references at the bottom told her where she could find the holo of the actual interrogation. The very thought of watching Vet in that cold, featureless room sickened her.
Vet had been her only friend until Sinklar came wandering out of the rainy night to change her life. Vet had helped, at least insofar as he could understand what had happened to her after the pimply kid drove her into the streets.
He paid for his friendship with his life. He died because of me.
"Rotted Gods, " Anatolia whispered as she slumped in the chair. "Vet ... damn it!" Tears blurred her vision. "Professor Daviura?" A voice asked nervously.
Anatolia wiped at her hot eyes, sniffing to clear her clogged nose. "What?"
"Are you all right? " -
Ana stared up at a technician in Regan battle armor.
Yes. I'm all right. Just found a file. A friend ... who ... Tears blurred her vision again.
"I thought you were going up on the shuttle? I'm supposed to take over this station."
"Yes. I guess I'd better hurry." Anatolia blinked her vision clear and glanced at the chronometer, startled by the amount of time she'd spent on Vet's file.
She barely nodded, memories of Vet spinning in her head. Ily had killed him.
She'd sucked him dry of information, and disposed of him like a soiled tissue.
Anatolia forced herself to stand. The tech gave her an uneasy smile as she slid into the chair.
Sinklar would be waiting.
Blessed Gods, she had to contact Marka, try to explain what had happened to her husband.
Anatolia had reached the main hallway and stopped at the foyer before the lifts that would take her to the roof. She nodded to the uniformed assault trooper who stood with a blaster across his hip and hesitated. Ana bit her lip and walked to the wall comm. Her fingers trembled as she input Vet Hamlin's old address.
A young woman's face formed, dark eyes staring out from a thin-boned face.
"Ana?"
" Marka? Listen. I've got some bad news."
At that moment the building went silent, the muted shush of the fans dying.
The guard looked around suspiciously. "Ana? Where are you? What news? What's going on?
Where's Vet? I've been worried sick for-"
"Marka, be quiet. Something's wrong here." A terrible unease ate into Anatolia's gut. Someplace down the corridor, a man cursed.
"Something's wrong here, too! Where's Vet?"
People burst out of the computer room, smashing the doors wide. Shouted orders carried down the hallways. Anatolia's sense of panic grew.
"Ana? Ana? Talk to me! WHERE'S MY HUSBAND?- Marka never heard the answer.
CHAPTER 9
They came in separate aircars, generally driven by slaves. As each stopped before the energized security barriers of the Estates' main entrance, the occupant stepped out and nodded to the security officer in his family livery.
They totaled eleven visitors, seven men and four women. Each had been carried up the long incline by gravlift and ushered into the main hall where Marvin Hanks waited at the head of the large table. From the dispenser, each of the visitors chose his or her favorite drink and waited, engaging in small talk.
When the last had arrived, Marvin Hanks stood and placed his hands behind his back. Chin on his chest, eyes lowered, he waited for a long moment, and then looked up, resplendent in his golden jacket and gleaming black trousers.
"Citizens of Phillipia. This morning my agents effectively eliminated the Director of internal Security who had planned to sabotage the comm system-much as happened to Ashtan. To have done so would have been disastrous to our economy and would have thrown the planet into turmoil. "
One by one, he searched their eyes. "You, my friends, are the last of the Phillipian royalty. The last of a breed that challenged the very Forbidden Borders." He smiled. "Well, as of tonight, that is going to change. The Regan bonds have been shattered. The time to act is now, before the Star Butcher can tighten his grip." '
"Do we really want to challenge the Companions?" one of the matrons asked.
Hanks leaned forward, the flame of passion alight in his eyes. "This is our only chance, -Nova. If we act in unison, nd with full commitment to our goal, we can regain what is rightfully ours. After that, with a planet behind us, we can deal with the Star Butcher. Offer him whatever it will take to buy him off, but Phillipia will be ours again." "And if the Regan majority disapprove?"
Hanks leaned forward, his golden clothing catching the light. "Now, we aren't about to let that stop us, are we? We have a planet and a heritage to reclaim.
If they push us to it, what are a few bloody Regan corpses after the millions of Phillipian dead they've piled up over the years.
Staffa struggled to collect his thoughts as he paused outside of Chrysla's hatch. Unable to control events, they now seemed to control him. Before Myklene, before the Praetor had unleashed hell in his brain, he'd been able to concentrate, to block the roil of emotions. Even in the most desperate moments of combat, that talent had never failed him. Now his mind screamed in pursuit of ten thousand details, traveling in every direction at once. Worry stalked him with the single-minded intent of a hungry siff jackal. People he cared about were in jeopardy. He hadn't even had time to visit with Skyla, to reassure her.
All it takes is a single mistake and we're all dead. Taking a deep breath, he thumbed the door comm. "Chrysla? It's Staffa."
"Please come in." The hatch slipped sideways to admit him into her personal quarters.
The cabin measured four by five meters, spacious for a warship. Holographs of Ashtan filled the wall tanks with views of the planet. Rocky ridges thrust up from fertile valleys filled with grains. Neat houses clustered around silos and herds of animals enclosed in multistoried feeding pens. In other scenes, clean cities gleamed in crystal morning sunlight.
Chrysla stood in the center of the room. She wore a loose dress with an empire waist. Her eyes seemed to enlarge as she studied him, concern replacing reserve. Her glossy hair spilled over her shoulders in gentle waves as she shook her head. "How long since you've slept?"
"I can sleep when we've spaced for Targa.
She crossed her arms, then paced to the far end of the room. "I didn't want to press the point in the meeting, but . . . "
"I know. I appreciate it. " He raised supplicant arms. "Sending you to Ashtan is out of the question. I can't provide adequate protection. I need my most qualified people to--
"I'm not asking for protection."
He lifted a skeptical eyebrow. "Chrysla, you're smarter than this. What kind of foolishness is this? You know who you are. To my enemies, you're an incredibly valuable target. Or did you miss that fact over the last twenty years-?" "I am well aware of my value to different people."
"Then you know that Free Space is ready to come apart at the seams. You've just come from-"
"I know what I've just come from. " Her
full lips pressed into a thin line.
"Staffa, I survived on my own out there in the wreckage of Myklene. Broke, hurt, and penniless, I still managed to get aboard a ship headed for Imperial Sassa. From there, I would have made it to Itreata. "
"And what if it hadn't been MacRuder who took Markelos ? Piracy is-. suddenly going to be a very viable option for planets running out of resources. "
"Then I would have handled that, too."
"Sure. Rape and slavery. You're a beautiful woman. Kaylla Dawn explained how women are treated in this age of ours. And she's right! Women become property-things to own, abuse, or play with. Haven't you had enough close calls with that?"
Her jaw muscles bunched as a chill entered her voice. "I'm familiar with rape.
The Praetor made a practice of it. I'm no blushing innocent anymore. I've Paid my dues, physically and emotionally. But that brings me back to my point.
Right now, you need every talented person you have. You need me! "
"Not as a hostage!" he shouted back.
She paused, then raised a'hand, gesturing for peace. "Slow down. We're both getting mad. Staffa, can we be rational? "
"I am being rational. You used to have more sense than this! "
She smiled, a twinkle of amusement -and understanding in her amber gaze. "Take a deep breath. That's it. Now,
stop balling your fists and bouncing from foot to foot. When you regain control of yourself, tell me who has more sense - "
Staffa glared at her for a moment, caught the infection of her amused smile, and slowed his aggravated movements. He chuckled, tension seeping away. "Very well, we're both rational again. The fact still remains that it's too risky.
Isn't it enough to have just escaped the Praetor? You've paid the price for twenty years? Why put yourself in harm's way again? Haven't you suffered enough?"
"I don't intend on becoming a hostage again, Staffa. I suspect that I know full well what Kaylla meant about the status of women. I also think it's worth fighting to change that. You're willing to take risks, yet you won't let me?"
"I lost you once. I can't stand that again."
She stepped close, a probing intensity in her amber stare. "You've told me about your time in the desert. Let me tell you about making planet on Rega.
Mac, Rysta, and I walked into Ily's trap. You know how we got out? I bluffed them into thinking I was Arta Fera. It seared me to death, Staffa, but I did it. After that, Mac tried to ship me off to Gyton before he attacked Ily's Ministry. I stayed, Staffa. Because I had to.
' 'Chasing off to a planet on the brink of civil war is a different color of quark. Ashtan could turn into an inferno. " "But that's just the point. I might be able to stop it.
Maintain civil order in your name." She cocked her head. "I'm asking you as one human being to another. You have the power to deny me. I don't dispute that; but think. The people on Ashtan-my people-will pay the price if everything collapses."
Didn't she understand? "I don't argue that. That's why I'm sending Mac and Rysta--
"And my second reason for going may make an even stronger argument. You went off to Etaria for yourself. I need to go to Ashtan for myself. Put yourself in my place. For the first time in my life I've been someone besides Staffa's precious wife. On Myklene, I reacted to events ... managed to survive. Getting off the planet, I manipulated the governor. Then, finally, when we landed on Rega, I took control of a situation for the first time in my life. Will you, disciple of the Seddi that you are, deny me the chance to take responsibility for myself? Isn't that what you learned out there in the desert?"
Staffa stood mute. Tell her no!
And make a hypocrisy of all of your beliefs?
"Let me go, Staffa. Either that, or imprison me here and now. "
"What about your son? After all these years, don't you want to spend a little time with him? Get to know him?" She lifted a slim eyebrow in a mocking manner. "Believe
me, now isn't the time. I'm a psychologist, remember? Sinklar has just taken a psychological beating. His soul is wounded and needs time to heal.
Complicating matters, he and Anatolia are developing a relationship at a time when Sinklar is drowning in self-doubt and guilt. Not only that, I remind him of Arta-the woman who killed his beloved Gretta. I've left messages on Sinklar's comm. I've tried to see him more than once. He needs to-"
"I'll order him in for psychological evaluation, give you a chance to work with him. You could probably do him some good."
Her expression turned wry. "Listen to what you're saying. You're grasping at straws. That's unlike you, Staffa. You know better than to even suggest such a disastrous idea. Or do you really think Sinklar Fist will placidly allow you to manipulate his life in that manner?"
Staffa sighed in weary defeat. "No. He'd hate me for intruding. "
"And that's what he'd feel about me. He needs time to come to grips with what happened. Too many people worshiped him. It's hard to be a young god, and then discover you're only mortal after all. " She paused. "Remember that when you deal with him, will you?"
"You've changed, Chrysla."
"So have you. You aren't the same invincible demigod I once loved and feared."
She raised her hands and let them fall. "And that's another reason I need to go. In a way, you're like Sinklar. You need time to come to grips with this new you. You must solve the current political crisis, deal with your son, and help Skyla. She needs you ... and, Staffa, you've been too busy to notice just how desperate she is. My presence aboard this ship adds to the pressure warping her psyche. She's a frayed cord at the moment. If you don't reassure her, she'll finally come unraveled - "
At that moment, his belt comm buzzed. Under Chrysla's cool stare he accessed the unit. "Yes?"
"Lynette Helmutt, sir. We've had an explosion at the Ministry of Internal Security. The whole building is gone." "Blown up?"
"Yes, sir. From the spectra, we'd guess it was a chemical explosive of some sort-and a lot of it. Replay on the monitors indicates that the blast came from within the building itself. If I were to guess, it was a timed delay. We do know that the subspace dish powered up several minutes before the detonation. "
"Get a rescue crew down there at once and cordon the area. Put Ark on the investigation. I want to know what happened. The STO is to debrief all survivors. See if we can reconstruct the manipulations they made to the computers. "
"Sir? From here it would appear that such an investigation would be useless.
The crater, sir . . . well, there's nothing left."
Staffa swayed on his feet. They'd ransacked the place for documents, arrested Ily's staff and management, but no one had found explosives. In the walls? In the floors and ceilings? Why didn't I anticipate this?
"Very well, First Officer. Use . . . use your discretion. Initiate a rescue operation anyway, just in case." "Affirmative.
Staffa stared woodenly at the floor as a terrible weariness settled over him.
"I should have known. I should have guessed that Ily would resort to something like this. "
Chrysla's warm hand settled on his shoulder. "You're not a god, Staffa. You can't anticipate-"
"Once, I could, " he whispered. "Is that what the Praetor did to me? Did he destroy my ability to think clearly?" She frowned, thought for a moment, and said, "Not from
the standpoint of brain physiology. I think you're stretching yourself too thin, caring too much."
He studied her with an agonized expression. "Eighty of my people were down there. They depended on me. There are billions of others in Free Space. Can they depend on me? "
She placed slim hands on his chest, staring up into his eyes. "You can't bring ghosts back. What's done is done. You're accepting too much of the responsibility. You can't be the single, solitary savior of humanity. Each of us has to take on our share if we're to survive. That includes Sinklar. Let him pull his weight. Give him a command. Something so that he doesn't sit there in his quarters and grow more sour by t
he day."
" Sinklar . - . " Cold dread settled in Staffa's chest. "Rotted Gods, Anatolia was in the Ministry, working on the records. "
"If she Chrysla shook her head. "I pray she's all right. If not, you'll have two to heal, Sinklar and Skyla. " "Comm?" Staffa barked. "Find out if Professor Daviura survived the blast. Inform me at once."
"Affirmative. "
Chrysla turned away, massaging the back of her neck. "Skyla is aching, too.
Give her a task that allows her to rebuild her self-confidence. "
He rubbed his gritty eyes. Pray to the Quantum Gods that Anatolia is all right. Can Sinklar take another blow? Or will he snap and crumble? "Let me think about it."
"Don't think too long," she warned. "People tend to take matters into their own hands.
The heavy hatch opened soundlessly as Skyla palmed the lock plate. She had dressed in her white armor and slung a duffel bag over one shoulder. Her tongue played over dry lips as she entered the armory and tapped her ID into the security comm. The locks clicked open on the weapons lockers as her nerves plucked like the strings of a lute. At the far end of the room, the armorer glanced up from the pieces of shoulder blaster spread across his workbench.
"Help you, Wing Commander?"
"No thanks. Just drawing equipment."
The armorer saluted and returned to his work, frowning at the charred ceramic cone on the particle acceleration module.
Despite the desperation pumping adrenaline through her veins, Skyla forced an appearance of calm as she opened a
locker, selecting a new Model 57 service blaster and holster. She input the serial number in the registry and moved to the next bin where she extracteda pulse pistol. Finally she selected a Model 14A shoulder weapon and a belt of charges. From the explosives bin, she pulled a belt of sonic grenades and checked out the lot.
"Got everything you need?" the armorer asked, as he employed an ultrasonic cleaning head to the PAM.
, 1 think so. Thanks - " Skyla piled her booty onto an antigrav and pushed it out through the hatch. She made her way down the winding corridors, returning salutes as she passed crew members. The ship bustled, preparing for the spacing to Targa.
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