Counter-Measures

by W. Michael Gear

  Chrysla smiled wistfully, propping her chin on a fist. She studied him, longing in her large amber eyes. "Not the way I thought it would, Mac. It doesn't feel like home."

  He reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder. "We'll go find your family as soon as things settle down - She shook her head, the longing in her eyes intensifying. "It's too late for that, Mac. Even if they survived, what would I say to them? How's the ripa crop this year? Did Aunt Child really die last year? How terrible?" She shook her head, a tear in the corner of her eye.

  "They'd ask about me. What can I tell them? About being the Praetor's captive?

  About life with the Lord Commander? About war and famine?

  He leaned over, drawing her into his arms, hugging her protectively.

  "Homecomings are never what we'd hoped." Images of his father's studied attempts at making conversation fading into sorrow.

  "What's wrong? " She reached up, tracing her fingers along the side of his face.

  "Thinking about what we lose along the way."

  "But you saved Ashtan. We arrived in time for once, Mac. We gave these people a little more time."

  He stared into her eyes, seeming to fall into their amber depths. He stroked her soft skin, a warming excitement in his gut as he bent forward to kiss her, gently at first, and then with growing intensity.

  Her arms went around him, pulling him close. Heart pounding, blood rushing, he pulled back, aware of her breasts against his chest. The soft warmth of her body melted the last of his reservations.

  Mac swallowed hard, reading the glow of desire in her skin, in the excitement building in those amber eyes. He shifted to ease the pressure of his erection.

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes," she whispered. "I've waited too long for this. I want you, Mac."

  "I smell like a horse."

  She laughed, lips parting. "Me, too. There's one hell of a sensual bath next door. How tired are you?"

  "Got my second wind." He lifted an eyebrow. "Are you really sure? You're not just . . . well, feeling guilty?"

  She nodded, kissing him again. "I'm sure, Mac. I have been for a long time. "

  Her slim fingers unsnapped the fastenings that secured his armor.

  Oh, Blessed Gods, this can't be happening! "About Staffa . . . "

  "Shhh. " She placed a finger to his lips, sitting up with him as she stripped his armor off. "One thing at a time, Mac. Stand up."

  He followed her instructions, aware of her scent, aware of the way her hair swayed as she undid the fasteners for his legs. He stepped out of the armor, curiously selfconscious. Need electrified him as he reached for her, undoing the clips at her shoulders, breath catching in his throat as her armor fell away and she stood before him in the padded undersuit.

  Chrysla watched him, eyes like honeyed pools as they peeled the last barrier away. Was he dreaming, or were his forbidden fantasies finally coming true?

  She took a deep breath which lifted her perfect breasts, the nipples tightening; glints of the light danced in her red pubic hair.

  "Oh, Mac! " She stepped to him. Running her hands over the muscles of his chest, she sighed, then conformed to him, kissing his neck and lacing her arms around him.

  For long moments, he stared into her eyes, sensing the depths of her longing.

  Then he kissed her, reveling in the pressure of her breasts against his chest.

  She reached down, found his erection, and gasped as she gripped his hot fiesh.

  The pounding urgency grew as he lowered her to the sleeping platform. The light shot threads of copper through her hair as she lay back and drew him onto her, opening herself -

  Locked together, they lay still for a moment while Mac savored the sensations stirring within him.

  "Don't ever leave me, Chrysla. "

  "Never, Mae. I promise." And she sighed as she began to move.

  CHAPTER 22

  The CV shuddered under Guy Holt's feet as the heavy cargo was lowered to the hold deck. Couldn't these dock guys ever get the knack of loading down.

  Guy muttered to himself, scratching the back of his neck as he waited for the heavy lifter to back its way out of the hatch. One thing Holt could say about the fall of Rega, it had definitely made an impact on his life. Nor did the future hold many prospects for boredom. Like it or not, Guy was going to be getting a lot of overtime-just like this trip.

  Someone had forgotten, or misplaced, the Ashtan order which was supposed to have been shipped a month ago. Now, one of the lighters-the craft that ferried grain to orbit-at the Ashtan grain terminal was down, and the demand for Ashtan cereals was skyrocketing. With comm service restored on Ashtan, a desperate somebody had finally managed to get a message through to the Regan factory that made shuttle controls. There, a bewildered clerk had checked the manifests-also screwed up because of the destruction of Comm Central by the Star Butcher-and found the crate containing the guidance and automated piloting nacelles sitting in the warehouse, waiting for shipment. The situation had been deemed desperate enough to dispatch Holt's CV-and pus eat the cost!

  Indeed, business would only get better as more and more screwups meant more and more frantic contracts for CVs to carry critical goods across the space lanes.

  I'm not going to be getting a whole lot of rest for the next year or two, but, by the Blessed Gods, I might be able to take one hell of an Etarian vacation!

  "No! " Holt roared as one of the hands sought to strap the heavy sialon crate to a strake. "Use the rings inset in

  the floor. What do you want to do? Rip the whole side of my ship out?"

  The dockhand shot an irritated look over his shoulder, but refastened the tie-down to a deck ring and muscled the boomer closed with a vibrating snap.

  Holt glanced at his chronometer. At this rate, he'd be in Ashtan before he knew it. And who knew what kind of discoveries awaited him there? Another foulup, no doubt. The Blessed Gods alone knew how long they could keep running this way. If they didn't get things fixed soon, something, somewhere, would snap and they'd all be paying for it. Not just a few well-off commodities brokers.

  "Let's say you get off Terguz. What next?" Skyla asked as she maintained the awkward duck-walking pace through the low tunnel. Each step had to be taken in a swinging stride as she straddled the fifty-centimeter-wide powerlead in the floor. Motion sensors detected their approach, illuminating the light globes, only to let them die as they passed. Breath fogged-all tainted with the odors of ammonia and chlorine.

  "I don't know," Lark answered. "I'll find something. Take the next left."

  "Find something?" Skyla laughed as she entered yet another tunnel. "Now, that's rich. You're not bad looking. You're young and healthy. You can always hook for a living. " She glanced up at the insulation that had been sprayed over the ice. Not a cheery place to be. No wonder Lark wanted out.

  "I won't have to hook for a living." "All virgins say that.

  "I'm not a virgin."

  "Wasn't the kind of virgin I was referring to. I was talking about the kind that want to catch the first ship to anywhere and enjoy all the excitement of the fast life in Free Space. Sweetheart, it ain't that easy."

  "And you know all about it?"

  "Yeah, kid. I've been there. Listen, how many ICs do you have in your account?"

  "Around five hundred."

  "That will get you two months of room and board on Etaria-that's assuming they let you land. Lots of places demand that you get a round-trip ticket or proof of financial support before they let you off the orbiting terminal. But let's say you make planet and get to Etarus. You've got two months' rent. What happens in month three?"

  :'By then I've got a job. "

  'Oh, yeah? Where's your work permit?" :'Well, I go down and apply for one. "

  'Sure, you do that. And to get one, you need to grease the desk dick's hand with about four hundred ICs. But you've paid rent to have an address so you can get a work application. Where do you get the ICs, babycakes?"

  "Don
't call me that."

  Fine, sweetmeat, you're still short a bunch of credits. "

  You going to find them on street corners, or call home to Daddy? "

  :'Never! 'So, how do you think you're going to survive? Listen, Lark, Etaria, or any other planet, for that mattef, has a way of handling transient people.

  It's called slavery. They find you without support, you go on the public works program.

  "What if you marry someone?"

  "Oh. sure, you're guaranteed of that? Got a marriage contract lined up with some nice aristocratic family on whichever world you land on?"

  "He doesn't have to be an aristocrat."

  Skyla turned, pointing a hard finger. "You listen to me, bitch. Don't you ever figure on a man taking care of you. You hear me? Never! That's nothing more than another form of slavery, sugarcoated and socially acceptable, but it's still slavery! You got that?"

  Lark's look showed disbelief.

  Skyla shook her head, angry with herself. "What in Rot am I doing? You're too old, you've already sucked up that Regan Aristocratic pap! You expect a man to take care of you! You've lived with it, seen your mother being a sweet, wonderful hostess while your father was the Lord and Master. "

  "I don't buy a lot of what I'm supposed to."

  "Giving you advice, honey, is just making talk to hear my brain rattle."

  Lark cursed, shaking her head. "You don't think much of me, do you? Well, who'd be under arrest right now if I hadn't decided to save your cute ass?"

  Skyla cocked her head. "I'll tell you exactly what I think of you, Lark. I think you're a spoiled rich kid-but you've got promise if you'll use your brains. That's half the fight. The other thing you need to go with brains is guts. Have you got those kinds of makings in you?"

  "Yeah, I do. "

  "What if I tell you . Skyla shook her head, returning to the awkward duck wall. "Forget it. I must be out of my mind?"

  Lark sighed angrily. "You, Silk? Out of your mind? Who'd have guessed that anyone wantin to walk into Gyper

  Rill's office and have a little chat with him was out of her mind? Especially if the Minister of Internal Security is hiding out there!"

  Skyla chuckled. "Yeah, well, kid, if I can kill Ily, and her assassin Arta, I can go home and relax."

  "Where's home?"

  "You wouldn't believe me if I told you

  "You're pretty pus-licking superior, did you know that, Silk? "

  "Yeah I did." Skyla threw a glance over her shoulder. "Drives you berserk, doesn't it? Uh-huh, and it fascinates you, too."

  "Hardly! "It's all right, Lark. I was the same way, once. My ticket out was a fellow named Mac Rylee.-

  "Thought you never depended on a man?"

  "Depended? Oh, I've had to depend on them for my very life. Time after time, just like men have had to depend on me. What I've never done is surrender my destiny to them. Partners depend on each other all the time, it's the nature of the beast. But get this straight, Lark, I've never sold myself to a man-and I started out as a whore's daughter." "So, how did you make it out, as you say?"

  "I cut Rylee's purse off his belt, and gave it back to him. Told him he could use a girl like me. He took me to . . . his superior, and I never looked back."

  "Maybe I could do that. Maybe I could show you I could be your partner."

  Skyla stepped down into another of the narrow maintenance closets, a rack of suits before a scarred duraplast door. Skyla walked over, placing a hand on the door, feeling warmth. "What's on the other side?"

  "The boulevard that runs in front of the Internal Security Directorate." Lark crossed her arms. "So what makes you so superior and arrogant, Silk?"

  "Guts, Lark. And the commitment to use them, no matter what."

  "You didn't look very gutsy in the Wayside."

  Skyla nodded. "Yeah, well, part of guts, and I guess arrogance, too, is that commitment I was talking about. I'm scared to death, but I'm going to walk right into the Internal Security Directorate, and I'm going to beat what I want out of Gyper Rill. If Ily or Arta are there, I'm going to kill them. "

  "Why? I mean, why not just call the . . . Well, someone to help you?"

  Skyla smiled,. placing a cold finger under Lark's chin and lifting it to stare into her serious green eyes. "Because, kid, there's no one to call. I'm all there is right here, right now.

  Lark's jaw thrust out. "I . . . I could go with you." "Look, I said I'd take you out of here if I make it. I meant that. Hell, I'll probably even find a way of keeping you out of the hook shops when you find a place you like.

  Everybody ought to be able to chase their dreams, no matter how screwy they are."

  "What if . . . what if my dream was to be like you?" Skyla shook her head, peeling out of the thermal suit. "It costs too much, kid. You lose too much of your soul."

  "I'll take that risk. Let me go with you. Please."

  Skyla hung the insulated suit on the rack. "Why? You go in there with me, the chances are that you're going to wind up on the floor with part of your body blown away. You're not trained for this sort of thing."

  "And who's going to watch your back?"

  Skyla removed the Vegan scarf, folding it up. "You're not, that's for sure. The first loud noise, you'd probably shoot me instead of the bad guy. Hey, the last thing I need is to worry about you while I'm in there.

  Trust me on this, all right? "

  Lark nodded. "All right."

  "Good. Now, assuming they don't have an arrest warrant out for you yet, take the next shuttle up to the station. Lay low. I'll either

  be there in a couple of hours, or I'm dead.i" Skyla hesitated, then reached into her pouch. "This data cube might be important. If anything happens to me, insert it into any comm with subspace linkage. It will open a channel to a woman. You'll know her, she has tan eyes, looks attractive-and she never surrendered to anybody either. Tell her what happened to me."

  Lark nodded, taking the cube with reverent fingers. "Who are you? You're not just some wandering spacer, Silk." Skyla grinned as she stripped away the last of the torn

  robe and stood in her white armor. "Maybe that tan-eyed lady will tell you."

  Lark gaped. "Holy Blessed Gods, that's combat armor." "The best in the business." Skyla pinned her long braid to her epaulet and pulled her blaster, checking the charges. Next, she shucked her pulse pistol, making sure the weapon was ready. Finally, she hitched the bandolier of sonic grenades on her hip. Lark watched with interest.

  "See you in orbit, Lark." Skyla gave her a reassuring wink. "And thanks for trying to pull me out of the Vegan Rep's. It took guts."

  "Take care, Silk!" Lark leapt forward, hugging Skyla in a ferocious bear hug.

  "Don't get hurt. Please?"

  Skyla pried the girl's arms loose. "I'll do my best." Taking a deep breath, Skyla opened the door, stepping. out into another grimy hallway. She passed more public restrooms, then turned into the busy street. This time, Skyla Lyma walked down the middle of it like she owned the place.

  True to Lark's word, the Ministry of Internal Security filled one side of the boulevard, a discreet sign over the featureless door.

  Skyla glanced in both directions, then opened the door and stepped inside. Be here, Ily, because I'm going to kill you.

  Sinklar covered his ears. The mining machines roared, growled, and whined, fit to wake the very guts of the planet as they chewed into the red basalt. The cutters hammered

  at the tumbled rock, sending vibrations through the floor. Sinklar stood amid a knot of people who waited safely back from where the giant metal and ceramic mining machines shuddered and bucked. Overhead fixtures jiggled as they cast white light across the narrow cavern. The acrid odor of hot lubricants and ozone spread in the musty air.

  Sinklar cast a nervous glance at the rock overhead. Just how deep inside the mountain were they?

  "Won't be long now! " Staffa shouted.

  "What?" Sinklar winced, then motioned Staffa back from the collapsed face of the t
unnel. "I can't hear a word you're saying! "

  Staffa nodded, retreating. Sinklar barely realized when Adze dropped back in his shadow. She'd become as intolerable as Mhitshul when they got back to the surface.

  They had finally stopped at this side gallery. The roof arched a little less than three meters overhead. Dark comm terminals studded the walls around them, the powerlead and comm strip running along the base of the rock.

  "Won't be long, " Staffa repeated, pointing to the rock just above where the mining machine crunched up the tumbled stone. "I collapsed that so the Regans wouldn't find it when they came back.

  "Came back?"

  Staffa shot him a sidelong glance. "At the time I expected Tybalt would wonder what had been left behind. Ily definitely would have."

  "How about the archives? Isn't your conservation team arriving tomorrow?"

  "Yes." Staffa pointed. "Want to see where it is?" "Nothing's happening here."

  Sinklar turned, walking down the winding corridor. The humps and bulges made him think of being in an oversized intestine. The metallic grinding of the machines lessened with each step. Here, the lights gleamed, bathing the rock in a white glow.

  "What powers this place? Even the air is fresh."

  "The Mag Comm," Staffa told him, clasping his hands behind his back. "It powers all of Makarta. One of the things that frightened Bruen was that it cut them off once when they refused to communicate. That day you hit the tunnels with orbital, the lights went off, too. Other than that, the Seddi think the machine draws on the planet's core

  for energy. An inexhaustible source . . . and one they can't turn off."

  "How do you feel? It won't be long before you have to face that thing."

  Staffa nodded. "Yes, and we still haven't a clue as to how to deal with it.

  What do you think, Sinklar?"

  "I don't know. I want to see it first. " He shrugged. "We might be worrying for nothing. It might tell us to go mind our own business and solve our own affairs. "

  "After watching Bruen interact with the thing, I don't suppose that will be the case. He thought it was malignant, that it had an evil presence."

  Sinklar cocked his head. "Wait. Before we get too carried away, let's consider what we have here. The machine is just a computer, albeit a sophisticated one."