"I'm sorry, Staffa, I never understood." Unbidden, her words returned to mock her: . . . Nothing comesfree. Pain is everywhere, living is suffering. If you can scramble hard enough and keep the Rotted Gods'Jetid breath at bay, the more power to you
Alone in the darkness, Skyla stuffed her fist into her mouth and cried for her words, spoken in pride, and, most of all, she cried for herself.
"Legate? This is Delshay. Are you all right?"
Myles forced his attention from the program he was working on. He and Hyros had been given the most remarkable quarters for passage on the Companion warship Cobra. The large airy room created an atmosphere more in tune with those found in better housing developments rather than those of a fighting ship. The room measured ten by fifteen paces, not counting the toilet and lavatory. One entire wall could be programmed for holo functions ranging from scenery, to starscapes, to visual massage by means of colors and shapes designed to soothe. For the moment, they'd filled the entire wall with a new software program for economic function analysis.
" Come in, Commander," Myles called amiably, as he jotted notes on his personal comm. He set the comm to one side on his desk and composed himself.
Delshay, resplendent in her throbbing -purple armor stepped through the hatch as it slid silently sideways. She stopped in the center of the room, violet gaze taking in first Myles, then Hyros. From her braced posture, she seemed somewhat ill at ease. Myles took a moment to study her. The formfitting armor-once you got past the color-betrayed the tensed muscles. Delshay's build could be called wiry, possessed of an almost nervous energy. Broad shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist and slim hips which accentuated her small, high breasts. Her yellow-blonde hair had been severely braided and then clipped to the back of her weapons belt. She was a tempered warrior ripe for bloody combat-but with no antagonist in sight.
Myles glanced at Hyros and made a small gesture.
' 'If you will excuse me," Hyros bowed and, despite his best manners, couldn't help but step wide around Delshay. She seemed not to notice as she crossed her arms, balance shifting from foot to foot.
' 'You asked if I were all right? " Myles reminded as he laced his fingers together on the desktop.
Her squint hardened, and she stepped to the side, wary eyes on the program. "One of my security people mentioned that the food consumption for your cabin was below our expected rate. We wouldn't have noticed, but we'd programmed your comm for the intake generally associated with Sassan dignitaries. As a result, we were worried that perhaps you were not feeling
well."
Myles rotated one of the rings on his fingers as he considered. "Do you generally monitor the caloric intake of your crew, Commander?"
Delshay stiffened slightly. "No, Legate. We do, however, take the safety, security, and well-being of our passengers very seriously. If for no other reason than to avoid a diplomatic incident. "
"I see. Let me put your mind to rest, Commander. Neither I nor Hyros are indisposed. Your food is excellentand better fare than we have had since the quake. You may have noticed, Commander, that I'm not the bulbous mountain of fat that I once was. I intend to lose at least another fifty kilos, and perhaps sixty. That is why the consumption is down. I'm eating enough to maintain my health-and no more." He slapped a hand to his ample gut. "I assure you, any extra calories I need can come from here."
She nodded, the action restrained, suspicious. "I understand, Legate. "
"Is there anything else I can answer for you, Commander? "
"You're different. You don't fit the mold of a Sassan political figure. The Lord Commander trusts you. Speaks fondly of you, as a matter of fact. I was waiting for the rest of your advisers to be summoned, yet your aide left us alone. A bit daring, don't you think? "
Myles chuckled, "Yes, it does seem to be a bit of a change from the usual Sassan simpering, doesn't it? Commander, let's be honest. The success of the Sassan Empire came from its superior administration, not from the strength of character of its leadership. Divine Sassa was a petulant, obese monster whose real nature and personality were carefully hidden from the rank and file population. Oh, he was clever enough when it came to politics, but let's face it, he provided a political figurehead for the continuation of a theory of social control, namely his Divinity.
"How did you break the mold?"
Myles gave her a careful inspection, finally saying, "I took Staffa at his word, Commander. He came to talk us out of going to war against Rega and provided us with the Seddi data. He forced me to look past the blinders of my social status and enculturation. When I finally did, I didn't like what I saw.
Either of myself, or my government. I made a conscious decision to betray my Emperor and government for the sake of the people. I became both a Companion and Seddi. I took responsibility for my own actions and their effect on God Mind."
She played a staccato on the grip of her blaster with, callused fingertips as she considered him. "I may have to revise my opinion of you. Had Divine Sassa-or even your friend Jakre- suspected, they would have made it most unpleasant for you. "
"No one sleeps easily when they engage in espionage and treason, Commander.
The stakes are much too high." He frowned. "But in this instance, we may be too late, with too little to save the people." Myles indicated the complex program. "Magister Dawn sent us the basic program. Hyros and I have a long way to go. The vaunted Sassan program had been refined over the last fifty planetary years, tailored to the realtime needs of empires instead of being an analytical tool used by economists."
"You don't sound very optimistic." She glanced at the program, apparently absorbing little of it.
"Should I be?"
One shoulder lifted in a shrug. "Tiger sent a subspace. Jakre seems to be coming to his senses, but reluctantly. He's working with us on the redeployment of the Sassan Fleet. Magister Dawn is building a command control based at Itreata which will deal with individual Sassan captains without having to go through Jakre. Do you think they'll obey such orders? "
I IThey should. " Myles stared vacantly at the desktop - "I suppose the blinders are off for all of us. I know the situation the empire was in, how close we were to the edge before the Regan strike at Mikay. The pinch will be tightening everywhere. Even the most foolish will be rubbing their empty bellies and looking to the skies for relief. "
"Let's just hope we can provide it." Delshay no longer appeared to harbor suspicions of Myles. "You've allayed a
great number of my reservations about you, Legate. I must be candid. I'd come to dread this mission and had begun -to wonder what Staffa saw in you.
Now, well, it's a pity that fat pig, Sassa II, didn't have more men of your caliber in his court. Perhaps your history would have read differently. "
"I thank you for the compliment. And, having made your acquaintance, I understand even more why the Companions share the reputation they do. My compliments to you and your crew, Commander."
The hard set of her lips gave the slightest bit. "If you need anything, Legate, let me know. "
He gestured at the cluttered program filling the wall. "Several more years to work on this? Not within your power? Oh, well. In that case, Hyros and I shall just keep wringing our brains out in the endeavor to make this workable. "
"And you only have one lover ... not a coterie." Delshay said. "You are indeed a most unusal Sassan Legate." "Excess was one of the terrible weights that broke my
empire, Commander." Myles wiggled his fingers which flashed with the colors in his rings. "The foundation and fashion of Divine Sassa's court was gluttony in every dimension of existence. Hyros is a warm, compassionate human being. We suit each other."
"So, you don't miss the old orgies?"
"'Would you? Surely, in your position, you could have anything you wanted. As many as you wanted. Let me guess, Commander, you, too, have satiated that drive for diversity." Myles waved his index finger back and forth. "Fact is, if you can find another person to really care for y
ou, if only for a limited period in your life, you're infinitely richer."
Delshay chuckled. "A philosophy lesson from a Sassan! Now, that takes pus-Rotted hell, doesn't it? But answer me this. I thought you had the hots for the Wing Commander. "
Myles suffered that trip-hammering of his heart. "The Wing Commander?"
Delshay kicked at the deck plating as she crossed her arms. "I told you. We take security very seriously. I studied all the holos, watched you drooling all over yourself when Skyla was around. You didn't exactly hide your interest."
Myles winced and groaned to himself. "She's an attractive woman. I was . . .
well, I . . . Oh, Rot it all, leave it at the fact that she is an attractive woman. A lot of women are attractive. You are. And I was a great deal more naive and thoughtless than I am now. " He met her lavender stare. "In all honesty, she'll always haunt my dreams. For my part, I will wish her and Staffa eternal happiness-and forever regret the foolish lusts of a more immature, version of myself. "
Myles smiled, amused at himsel 'f, then made a gesture. "What about you, Commander? Do you have any regrets? Aspects of your life you would be glad to go back and change?"
" We all do, Legate. I think I'll downgrade you a notch on my security net. "
At that, she whirled, palmed the hatch lock, and vanished into the corridor beyond.
Myles nodded soberly. Divine Sassa-and their own a*rrogance-had doomed them all, all but poor Legate Roma, who would drive himself to the limit of endurance to save a few more human lives.
Because out of all of my peers, I at least have managed to redeem myself. He'd seen that in the thawing of Delshay's stony formality.
Ily awoke from unpleasant dreams. She shifted, pulling the tangle of her long raven-black hair from her face. Beside her, Gyrer barely stirred.
She lay in a small spare room, one of the apartments in the Internal Security Directorate. After her rise to power, she'd insisted that all Ministries have quarters like these. It allowed her people to have some of the comforts of home when work demanded long hours. It also gave her agents a safe haven, a retreat to themselves-a perk of the job.
Her body complained as she sat up. Abused muscles still ached from the attack on Rega. Not only that, she'd strained herself to give Gyper his full measure of pleasure. The man had put on weight since the last time she'd bedded him.
Tuming, she, studied him through half-lidded eyes. The heavy muscles in his shoulders had softened. Thick hair matted his chest and thighs. Lying as he was, on his side,
his round belly sagged. In sleep, a look of childish innocence possessed his face.
How far can I trust him? The nagging question persisted. Gyper's motives seemed clear. He expected to gain from her freedom, and, given his behavioral profile, she would have expected that from him. Nevertheless, his statement on the shuttle worried her. He could have gassed her, easily, without muss or fuss.
That knowledge grated. Throughout her life, Ily had hated vulnerability-and she'd never been as vulnerable as she was now. Gyper had been her best bet, but in the future, she couldn't afford to trust anyone. That meant she needed another identity, a cover which would allow her easy movement without having to rely on a potentially flawed network. Besides, Gyper had given her a briefing. Ashtan was in shambles. Her agent there had broken and run at the first sign of trouble.
For the moment, she could slow the hemorrhage within her system through the Security comm net. Inform her people that she was alive, still wielding power.
But how many would remain loyal, especially when faced with the looming specter of Companion justice?
Staffa, you did this to me. So help me, I'll pay you back in kind.
She stood quietly, wincing from tenderness as she walked to the toilet and sat. Sinklar had made a much better lover than Gyper Rill, but then, Fist had the advantage of youth, and he didn't outweigh her by thirty kilos.
So what now, Ily?
First thing would be to obtain a new identity. The idea annoyed her. She had plenty of identities, all established and ready to slip into. Unf6rtunately, the records for each persona had been filed in the Regan Comm Central. Nor did she carry the necessary hard documents, all left behind at the time of MacRuder's attack.
Next, she would have to abandon Skyla's fabulous yacht for a more spartan and less conspicuous vessel. When the Companions arrived at Terguz, as they were sure to, her trail needed to be confused, leading the pursuers off in the wrong direction. After the insult to their Wing Commander, the Companions would cling to her tracks like Riparian blood leeches.
Finally, she had to discover a way past Itreata's impregnable security. From Skyla, Ily had learned just how serious the challenge would be. The Companions screened everyone, everything, that entered their domain. Detection buoys ringed the system around the TWin Titans. Itreata couldn't have been placed in a better location for defense. The Forbidden Borders covered every approach but one. Unless a ship carried extra shielding, the violent radiation released by the binary stars would cook a standard ship within days, so coasting in was out of the question-provided one was foolish enough to suspect that Staffa's active detectors wouldn't pick up either the mass or radiation from a dark ship.
That left the standard way, declaring oneself, racing the radiation, and docking like she once had, but then, she'd been a legitimate diplomat.
On that occasion, the Companions had met her, escorted her to special quarters, and restricted her movements. Though she couldn't prove it, she suspected that she had been under constant surveillance the entire time. When she'd seduced Ryman Ark that time, she'd had the equipment to mask any eavesdropping. Like everything else, those devices had atomized in the Ministry of Internal Security.
Under Mytol, Skyla had confided that Staffa's security matched every face with chem-coded ID. Each member of a party was accounted for entering and leaving.
In Ily's case, Itreata had her chemical code on file. Every human body produced a chemical fingerprint as reliable as dermatoglyphics, blood type, or bone structure. Skyla had made no bones about the fact that security ran cross-checks on their files.
Unless I can change my body chemistry.
For that, she needed a good biochem lab-and no such thing existed on Terguz.
Rega contained such a facility, but then, so did Vermilion and Ashtan.
Ily finished and stepped into the small shower. As warm water soaked her, she worried at the problem. All she needed was to pass security. Let them place her in their special quarters. Once there, she need but get a simple message to one man. He could figure out the rest. And he would-Ily was sure of it.
The drying field caressed her body as she stepped through.
"About time." A naked Gyper Rill leaned against the doorway, arms crossed.
Admiration for her- filled his dark eyes.
"After last night, I thought you'd sleep for hours." "You just stroked my appetite. "
She pointed at his crotch, resigned to giving him what he wanted. "Looks like your appetite is a little limp, Gyper. " She walked to him, wrapping herself around him, undulating. "But I think I can make you hungry."
He sighed, staring down into her eyes. "You're a rapacious bitch, did you know?"
"Uh-huh." She reached down, squeezing him until he grunted. "That's not all I can tighten up with."
"I know. " He moaned as she bit the side of his neck. "How do you keep those muscles toned?"
"Exercises," she whispered, leading him toward the sleeping platform. "A woman like me has to keep in shape. And you've got something I can practice on for now. But later, after I wear you out, I need access to your comm. Can I have it? "
He tossed her onto the bedding. "That depends on what you do next."
Ily laughed, playing the old familiar game as he settled next her. She pushed him onto his back and bent down, using her mouth until he gasped. "Much more of that, and I'll spoil the fun."
His jaw dropped as she straddled him and settled on his s
training penis. His eyes had fixed on her breasts while his hands clamped her buttocks. She tightened her vaginal muscles, rotating her hips. "Dol get access to your comm?"
His body trembled. "Yes, yes . . . just don't stop." Ily smiled in satisfaction.
For Will Blacker, the changes in Free Space hadn't all been to his liking.
Before "Ilybalt's assassination, he'd been showing a profit. Coming from an aristocratic Regan family of mediocre status, he'd been working hard for the last sixty years to better the status of his family and children. As the empire expanded, he had taken every opportunity, every load, to get ahead. For the last twenty years, he'd made progress. His freighter, the Victory, had made every run within the empire at least once-even to being the first into Maika after the conquest. He'd spaced into parking orbit under the very guns of the Companions. Regan Divisions were still mopping up pockets of resistance as he readied his lighters to descend to the planet's surface.
That kind of audacity, along with the willingness to drive himself past the brink of endurance and good health, had been paying off. Back on Rega, his five children had a brighter outlook. Vesta, his oldest daughter, even had a shot at University next year. His sons would have other options besides the military, or following in his dog-tired footsteps. All but little Billy.
Despite the fact that he was only five years old, his eyes lit at any mention of the stars. Trade was in the boy's blood. One day, Billy would man the cockpit aboard Victory. Or, at least, it had seemed that way until Tybalt's assassination.
Will took another drink, a sour feeling in his gut. The ramifications of the conquest were still settling into his brain. What would trade be like now that the Star Butcher controlled both empires? What did it all mean for his kids?
For the future?
He glanced around the bar. The name over the door said WAYSIDE. Will had been coming here to drink ever since he'd landed his first load on Terguz.
Normally, the place was jumping, whores and other happiness dealers crowding a man's elbow, offering anything he had the audacity, or the credits, to try.
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