Counter-Measures

by W. Michael Gear

  Ily stood, fists balling. "You despicable little gutter rat!" "Easy," Gyper warned. "Beware, Ily. Your arrogant

  temper has always been your worst failing. "He gestured over his shoulder. "My security is just beyond that door. Are you willing to destroy yourself just to glut your rage?" :'Ily," Arta said coolly. "He's right."

  'I'm right. " Gyper walked to the dispenser, unable to keep from staring appreciatively at Arta. He filled a cup with fruit drink and gulped it down.

  "And I'm one of the last friends you have left."

  :'But you expect a return.

  'Of course." He gestured with the bulb. "You have a ship-free and clear, complete with registry, and a safe port. All I ask in return is that you keep me informed of events which might work to my advantage. "

  "Playing both sides?" Ily lifted an eyebrow, hating the mollification she willed into her voice.

  "Absolutely. I know you, Ily. You can't bring the past back. I haven't asked what your plans are. I don't want to know. But let me give you something to think about." He remained calm under her withering glare. "Use your head. Listen to Arta. You're smart enough to change with the times, to use it to your advantage.

  "Words from a saint!"

  Rill laughed. "As if I were a saint! No, I'm in it for my own profit and power, pure and simple. Right now, I have to give a little, bend with the galactic wind." His expression sobered. "I understand what you're going through. If you keep your wits, and don't lose your head, you'll be back.

  People are always looking for leaders. "

  "I thought you were abrogating that to the Seddi. "Rhetoric," Gyper replied.

  "That's hot now, the heady new fission to power their optimism. I'll ride it out ... and be there when they want to toss the mundane dry work of government back into my lap.'

  Ily crossed her arms. "So that's all there is to it?" "Sure. Throw the dumb pus lickers a couple of treats. Mark my words, Ily. In the end, nothing will have changed. I'll still be here, running Terguz. " His lusty smiled widened.

  "And you can drop in any time. Just remember who your friends are. "

  Ily took a deep breath, slowly shaking her head. "I don't know how you do it, but Blessed Gods help you if it all comes unglued.

  "What could go wrong?"

  Ily pointed at the monitor. "Your mob out there could go nova on you. My advice is to keep your back door unlocked-and keep a ship on full-time readiness. "

  "I'm way ahead of you, Ily. " He stepped around the desk. "After what I just saw, I'd rather sleep on a sialon drum of plutonium than spend another night here."

  "What about the Wing Commander's yacht?"

  "It's yours. Consider it a down payment." Ily gave him a saucy look, licking her lips. "Unless you'd like another kind. "

  Gyper shot a sly glance at Arta who had watched like a golden-eyed predator.

  "Maybe the three of us?"

  Arta blew him a kiss before adding in her melodious voice, "I want you to think about something. I have killed every man I've ever had sex with. I get the greatest pleasure when I kill them in that long second after they ejaculate. They're so relaxed then, and death comes as such a surprise. " She stood up, stretching, flaunting her full-breasted body to mock him. "I will delay the execution for political purposes, but then they know and watch me with betrayed eyes . . . knowing my power over them. " Arta stepped close, smiling shyly. "Still interested?"

  A nerve in Gyper's cheek twitched, revulsion vying with desire.

  Arta glanced at Ily. "Shall I come back in a couple of hours? "

  Ily studied Rill thoughtfully as she stepped out from behind the desk. "I'll meet you, at the ship. I think we'll stay up there. Gyper's populist leanings make me nervous."

  Arta closed on Rill, a gleam in her amber eyes as she laced her arms around his neck, pushing herself against him, hips undulating as she kissed him. When he began to respond, she pushed him away. "I'll be waiting. Nice to have met you.

  Ily placed a restraining hand on Gyper's shoulder as Arta walked to the door, hips swaying with insolent sexuality. "Can you get your hormones back in balance and discuss business? "

  Gyper closed his eyes, exhaling. "What is it about her? Pheromones? "

  "Among other things." Ily knotted her hands in Rill's opened tunic, black eyes staring into his. "Very well, you have your partner. But let's get some things straight. That's all I'll be, Rill. I don't take orders from anyone. I don't work for anyone. You don't have any claims - "

  Rill grinned at her. "I wouldn't want you any other way. Mutual benefit.

  That's the deal."

  "Taken." Ily pulled him close, kissing him, tongue probing his mouth. "Now, let's seal the bargain."

  With practiced hands, he stripped her, caressing her body. She unfastened the rest of his tunic, running her fingers through the mat of hair on his chest, then lower, as she drew him to the couch.

  ' 'How do you want it?" Rill asked hoarsely, as she pulled him down by the penis.

  "Memorable," she told him, images of the Terguzzi crowd spinning in her mind.

  "Just in case you're dead by the time I need you."

  The insides of a CV could be called spartan at best. The vessels were built for speed, not comfort. That fact constantly reinforced itself as Nyklos maneuvered around the I-beamed structural members and ducked through a low hatch. He climbed down a metal ladder, boots ringing on the steel rungs, and pulled his tunic straight when he reached the lower deck.

  The small cargo area held little more than a couple of cases of data cubes, Bruen's antigrav gurney, and its battery support pack-should the power fail for whatever reason. The gumey had been latched securely to the deck plating to secure it in the event of sudden g changes.

  "Good to see you again, jailer," Bruen greeted him dryly. "Did you have a nice sleep up there in the little hammock?

  "I slept well enough, Magister. The pilot informs me that we're on schedule.

  We'll be null singularity in another five hours, ship's time. "

  Bruen stared up at the gray struts overhead, his eyes watery blue. "I wish I could have died while you slept. Despite the fact I wouldn't have been around to see the expression of dismay on your face, I would have enjoyed it immensely. "

  Nyklos checked the life-support system, studied the medical readouts that monitored the old man's blood sugars, urea, proteins, and lipids. All appeared

  to be normal. "When did you become so bitter, Bruen? What did this to you? "

  The old man refused to meet his eyes. Instead, he turned his head away, the fleshy skin contrasting with the pillowy white of the gurney cushions. "You, of all people, have the audacity to ask? Bitter? Me? Just because the quanta have robbed me of everything I ever worked for?"

  "We've got a chance to win, Magister. " ,

  "Bah! In the hands of the machine? Win?" He shook his head, the effort slow and painful. "You're all fooling yourselves. You, Kaylla ... and Staffa. You don't know the insidious power of the machine. It's inhuman."

  Nyklos crossed his arms, a frown lining his forehead between the bushy black eyebrows. Looking down at the emaciated old man, he could remember the -other Bruen, the one he had known, loved, and devoted himself to those many years ago. That Bruen-straight, self-possessed-had talked with an idealistic sparkle animating his expression. Bruen and Hyde had led the Seddi through their greatest period of growth, recruiting people like Nyklos, Wilm, Tyklat, and others. Inspired, they had filtered throughout Free Space, working toward the distant goal of human freedom and dignity.

  And the Bruen who had personified hope? Gone, all gone.

  Bruen licked his thin brown lips and chuckled in disgust. "Don't give me that look of pity, Nyklos. Save it for yourselves. After you deal with the Mag Comm, you'll need it. "

  "I don't pity you." Nyklos sighed in resignation, turning away. "I just wonder what happened to the man I once would have died for. " He started for the ladder that would take him back to his cramped quarters on the upper deck.r />
  "Wait! " Bruen called, voice cracking. "Wait, Nyklos. Talk to me."

  "Not when you're wallowing in self-pity." He placed a hand on the ladder.

  "All right, all right. " Bruen heaved a sigh. "You win. What would you like to talk about?"

  Nyklos had taken a step up the ladder. Hanging there, he looked back. "You."

  "Me? Hah! "

  "You, Magister. I want to know what happened to break you, to turn you into this sour old monster you've become. "Go lick pus off a corpse."

  Nyklos nodded in acceptance and clambered up the ladder with athletic grace.

  In the glare of the overhead lights, Bruen swallowed hard, pain in his weary eyes. "Nyklos?" he whispered, "Come back. Don't leave me alone down here. Not when all I have for company are memories."

  The truth was, the memories hurt too much, for they reminded him of another Bruen. Young, idealistic, fighting for the people.

  How had it all gone so wrong?

  CHAPTER 16

  A great many people who were fools had risen to positions of high authority in the Imperial Sassan government. That a person could do so was, in actuality, an artifact of the Legate's administration through his massive computers.

  After all, most high positions in the Sassan Empire were for the promotion of pomp and circumstance.

  Of all the things Penzer Atassi had been, a fool was never one of them. At that moment, he stood before the giant tactite window that covered one entire wall of the Governor's dome. His gaze was fastened on the Imperial Sassan colony of Antillies. From his vantage point, the colony looked like nothing more than sprinkles of light floating against the star-shot black velvet of space. Strategically, however, the Antillies were much more than islands of humanity orbiting a red star. The Antillies had been named for a belt of asteroids singularly rich in titanium, helium three, and rare ceramics. The Antillies fed the manufacturing maws of Formosa, Malbourne, and Imperial Sassa.

  Penzer had always been a student of history. And now, the moment he'd anticipated had come-albeit, not in the manner he'd expected. His Holiness Sassa II was dead in the ruins of his Capitol. Power bases would shuffle and slide, but Penzer controlled raw materials. And with them, he could now proceed to build an empire of his own.

  A raging headache brought Skyla Lyma back to awareness. She tried to swallow, but her tongue had dried out and was stuck to the roof of her mouth. The next thing to hit her awareness was the nagging pressure in her bladder.

  She blinked sticky eyelids open and sat up. The pain in her head could have been a cracked skull, the way it felt. Queasy tickles ran around her stomach on rodent feet. Despite dehydration, her gut tightened, saliva barely wetting her throat before she bent double to vomit.

  " Pus-Rotted Gods," she whispered, slumping backward, her head resting on the floor of her cabin. The place seemed to spin and turn, not quite in focus.

  Her stomach revolted again, dry heaves wracking her as she rolled on her side.

  Croaking sounds came from her throat while her gut heaved her lungs up against her ribs in suffocating spasms.

  , Finally spent, she lay gasping, the vile taste of bile burning in her mouth while yellow-brown liquid trickled down her chin.

  "I'm going to die." She propped an arm and levered her body up. The mess on the floor had pooled and it reeked. Screwing her face into a scowl, she staggered to her feet, blinking, wincing, and stumbling to the shower.

  With trembling fingers, she peeled out of her splotched and stained armor. She turned her head away, gut heaving at the smell of her padded undersuit. Sweat had discolored the material under her arms, around her crotch. Desperate for relief, she stripped the garment away and flung it across the room before stumbling into the shower.

  She slammed a palm into the controls, slumping against the far wall as warm water pounded against her. The ache in her head hammered angrily. Sick, so very sick.

  Turning her head to the flow, she opened her mouth, gulping the warm water, vomiting, and gulping more. "Rough one, Skyla. Rotted Gods, I hurt."

  She lost track of time, half collapsed in the shower while the system recycled the water, heated it, and shot it over her numb flesh.

  Nodding off, she was caught by the memory of Arta Fera's baleful amber stare and Ily's insinuating voice asking, "Did this Chrysla look exactly like Arta?

  The same hair, the same eyes, same height and weight? "

  "If she didn't, Ily, you maggot-sucking bitch, I wouldn't hate Chrysla so much. " But she did, because Staffa had loved Chrysla Attenasio with all of his heart and soul. "And how can I compete with a saint? Huh? Tell me that, Chrysla, you soulless, sexual vampire. "

  The flashback slipped over her, stimulated by the warm water . . . skin against skin, auburn hair entwined with pale blonde as Fera placed slim hands on either side of Skyla's face and kissed her, the hunger of her passion devouring Skyla's soul as Fera's tongue slid across hers.

  Skyla clamped her lip in her teeth, hating the memory of response. A piece of meat, she'd shut off her brain and followed the mechanical movements she'd learned over the years. Flesh on flesh, that was all. Just subtle friction on mesoderm rich in nerve endings-and all the desolation of the soul that implied.

  . . . many times a day do Ark's STU check the monitors in the science department? And when they do, do they crosscheck facial features with personnel files ?

  "Leave me alone, Ily. You got what you wanted from me. Now, leave me alone."

  When she finally pushed herself up and stepped through the drying field, the skin on her hands had shriveled. Bracing against the wall, Skyla stared at the mess in her cabin. Then, shaking her head, she plodded down the corridor, naked, to the galley. Amidst the shambles of stripped machinery, she programmed the, diSDenser for a meal of Riparian catfish, Ashtan beef, and a'bowl of ripa soup.

  She hesitated for a second, then selected a steaming cup of stassa. When the tray arrived, Skyla took it and settled on the cushions at the dining table.

  The table surface consisted of a slab of black Formosan marble from which all the gold had been chipped. Food stains had built up in the mortises.

  Skyla ate woodenly, barely aware of the vents straining as the atmosphere plant struggled. When she finished, she slipped the tray into the receptacle and swayed on her feet.

  Taking the stassa, she sipped it as she walked toward the bridge. She rubbed her red-shot eyes, checked the stats, and made a few minor adjustments to the reactor.

  "Relax, Skyla. You're in null singularity. Nothing can happen in null singularity. " She closed her eyes, locking her jaw as a fit of trembling swept through her.

  ". - - did Chrysla's cells become the basis from which the Arta clone was created?"

  Skyla pounded a fist against the side of her head, trying to beat Ily's voice out.

  "No one ever found the body? "

  " Hell, no, Ily! " Frustrated tears ate their way past her eyelids. "She was dead . . . dead. " Her nose had plugged and a lump ached under her tongue.

  "Why didn't you stay that way, Chrysla? Why did you have to come back? Why now, when I . . . I . . .

  " No - It's okay. You're all right. No one can get you here. Not Arta, not Ily, not . . . not even Staffa. "

  She turned then, ignoring the spatters of stassa that had dripped on the deck next to the command chair.

  Bits of the nightmare slipped through her mind. Fragments of Ily's interrogation room . . . cold . . . a doorway opening. . . . The rest slipped away just as Skyla almost had the key. Someone stepping through the door. Who?

  Returning to the galley, she drank down the last of her stassa, flipped the bulb into the recycling receptacle and stared at the dispenser. Her eyes closed and her pale-skinned fists knotted and curled at her sides. As if in defiance, her hand rose, trembling fingers pressing the stud on the dispenser.

  A new bulb fell into place, a trickle of amber liquid dribbling to splash in the globe-then it ceased.

  " I'm sorry," the dispenser's voi
ce comm informed. Supplies of Ashtan whiskey are exhausted."

  Licking her lips nervously, Skyla pressed the next stud, experiencing weary relief as Riparian single malt flowed freely.

  ' 'Here's to you, Skyla. " She lifted the bulb in salute, chugging the rich liquor. Her stomach complained but didn't toss up her meal.

  . "It's okay," she whispered to herself. "You're in null singularity. Nothing can happen to you here. You're not even in the universe anymore."

  Still naked, she walked slowly through the wreckage scattered about the yacht, barely noticing the other drinking bulbs scattered here and there.

  Her ice blonde hair shimmered in the light as she bowed her head, tenderly cradling the whiskey between her breasts.

  MacRuder swung across the cold darkness, while a dreadful sensation of desperation clawed at his heart. What if the

  cable snapped? What if he fell? If that one thin line frayed, or if someone had tied off carelessly, he could easily die here, crushed against a foam steel girder, or broken against unforgiving hull plating.

  From the days on Targa, training had been a part of the Division's everyday functioning. Through training, the First Targan Assault Division had accomplished the impossible. Time after time, they'd beaten the odds. Now, they braved a new environment.

  I'You're out of your mind!" Rysta had barked, disbelief reflecting in her black eyes.

  "As long as we stay within five meters of the hull, nothing will happen."

  "You'll get your asses cooked, that's what will happen!" "We'll wear protective gear."

  "You'll probably die! No one ever has to go EVA in null singularity! Who would you fight? The only thing out there is blackness and bottled radiation!"

  But he'd seen the grudging admiration in her eyes. Rysta had begun to understand his berserk methods. The last time Mac had worked EVA from Gyton had been at light speed when they'd taken the Markelos. Fully two thirds of his force-ground trained assault troops, hadn't been able to nerve themselves to jump into the psychedelic insanity of distorted light cones and weird colors.

  MacRuder had promised himself that such a failing would never happen again.