Counter-Measures

by W. Michael Gear

  Each time the dream repeated, the terror deepened, eating into Skyla's soul with the relentless inevitability of caustic solvent. The memory lingered like a tormenting wraith as Skyla pulled herself free of the nightmares. She groaned and worked her tongtke against the stale taste in her mouth.

  Stretching, she tried to breathe life back into sodden muscles. The seams on her padded undersuit itched where they ate into her skin. Her bladder demanded attention and her right foot had gone to sleep.

  The familiar bridge of Rega One gleamed with bank after bank of displays and healthy lights. Systems were maxed but appeared stable.

  "You all right?" Lark asked from her seat at the engineering station.

  "I feel numb." Skyla checked the monitor, noting the position of the CV. "How many gs are we pulling?" "Still right at forty-eight. No changes in the reactor or

  artificial gravity generation. Just for the benefit of those who like to live dangerously, we're still running right at one hundred and five percent. "

  Skyla kneaded circulation back into her leg before trying to stand. Rega One tried to mash her in the two gravities Skyla had chosen to live under rather than stress the gravity generation by an extra g. With careful steps, she walked to the hatch and ducked through. In the small toilet, she used equal care seating herself on the zero g pot and then sighed in relief. In the mirror her features looked twenty years older from the stress pulling on her facial tissues. The redshot eyes didn't help matters.

  Blessed Gods, will I ever sleep peacefully again? Or will I always relive those wretched days with Arta? Time after time ... after time ...

  A terrible weight had settled on her. She'd been right about Ashtan. After the crushing sense of despair, of the certainty of error, vindication had been hers. She'd called Ily's destination, and, but for a failed coolant pump, she'd have been there to trap Arta and her slimy mistress.

  And two innocent men would be alive. She propped elbows on her knees.

  Innocent? Could she say that about them? Hell, yes! Sex, after all, was a normal human drive. Arta's sexuality would tempt a Myklenian mystic.

  And you can't think of Arta without thinking of Chrysla. Rotted Gods, Chrysla had played her role to perfection. She and MacRuder had done the unthinkable.

  And is Mac so different from you, Skyla ? "

  You sleep with Staffa and Mac sleeps with Chrysla. Can you condemn Mac or her without condemning yourself and Staffa?

  That knot was more than she wanted to pick at for the moment. Kill Arta and Ily first. Worry about personal dysfunctions when the leisure presented itself.

  Skyla used the bidet and took a deep breath before she pulled herself up by the hand railing that was bolted to the wall for just such moments. She washed her face in the facial spray and then made her careful way, step by braced step, back to the bridge.

  Skyla paused at the hatch. A familiar frown chiseled a line through the middle of Lark's brow as she studied one of her monitors. The other instruments gleamed in the white light. The reactor monitors advertised the abuse of the system with glaring red readouts, while the navcomm holo tank reflected velvet tranquillity with only the white dot of Arta and Ily's CV disrupting the blanket of stars.

  This cramped little space would remain their home on the hard chase. Here, in the end, Skyla would face her demons across a mathematical battlefield of projected energy, velocity, shielding, and maneuverability. She would, that is, if they could manage to catch the CV before it went null singularity.

  "Any news? Are we going to catch them?" Skyla took a step and locked her knees to stare over Lark's shoulder. The

  targeting comm shot light blue lines across a red background as Lark worked on pinpointing a moving target. ,

  Lark looked miserable, hair pulled severely back into a ponytail. The luster had faded from her impish green eyes and her skin had taken on a pale sheen.

  "Doppler is still constant. From the readings, we're still gaining. When I haven't been running targeting exercises, I've been updating the plot and projecting interception. I think, Skyla, that it will be very close."

  "Pus Rot you, Ily, why couldn't you have stolen a slower ship?" Skyla braced herself and used her arm and leg muscles to settle back into the command chair. "What do you think, kid? Should we go to one ten percent?"

  "I'd. say no way . . . but I didn't just wake up from a nightmare the likes of the one you just had. " Lark glanced at her. "It's your decision, Skyla. Of course, we'll blow up if any of the systems-like that thrice-cursed pump-let loose. On the other, I wouldn't mind getting a chunk of Ily and her leashed bitch. "

  "Oh, yeah? What did they do to you?" Skyla extended an arm against inertia, drawing a cup of stassa from the bridge dispenser.

  Lark had turned back to her boards, expression thoughtful. "It's not me. It's that guy I saw on the Ashtan terminal. And it's you, too. I've heard your nightmares too many times. All the lessons you've pounded into my skull tell me to stay at one oh five. My guts tell me to go one ten and get the bitches for sure."

  "We'll stay at one hundred and five percent." "You're sure? "

  Skyla lifted the stassa to her lips and sipped. "I'm sure." She paused. "That part I never told you about at Terguz? The big secret? I took you along to keep me sane, Lark. I wanted you to keep me alive. That's what I couldn't tell you then. "

  "I know." "You know?"

  "Miracles do happen ... even inside my head. Yeah, I figured it out. I've also figured out that you're not nearly as fragile as you think you are." She hesitated. "Chrysla's right about you. "

  "Rotted Gods, you and Chrysla. Both as crazy as particles on an event horizon."

  Lark laughed. "Yeah, right. I remind myself of that every time I run a targeting program. Are you sure you want me manning the cannon? I've never shot anything in my life, and given my success ratio on this thing, I'm not likely to." "How bad are you?"

  I'In forty-six plotted shots, I've hit them four times." Skyla rubbed her forehead, the stassa easing into her gut. "You'll have to do better than that.

  Is there any improvement, or should I start preparing myself for the inevitable and try and ram them?"

  "Great! Ram 'em! Truth is, I might get good enough to tag them if we get enough chances to shoot and they don't get us first."

  "Neither one of them has space combat experience. That's what I'm counting on." Skyla narrowed her eyes as she stared at the pinpoint of light that marked the CV's location. Blessed Gods, tell me they're on that ship. Tell me Mac and Rysta aren't going to beat me to the punch and cut them out of Victory.

  "Right, Wing Commander. That makes three of us. Them and me. Are you sure you don't want the targeting comp?" Skyla shot a quizzical glance at the girl. "Do you want

  to repeat your lessons? The ones I started telling you about just before I went to sleep? Remember, sub-light tactics?" Lark almost smiled, then lost it.

  "Doppler affects combat

  at near light speed. The tactical advantage held by the pursuing ship is that it has better tracking data on the lead ship than the lead ship has on the pursuer. That advantage, however, is balanced and offset by the fact that firepower decreases factorially as the pursuing ship approaches the speed of light."

  "You've got it. Okay, you shoot, and I'll try and weave us back and forth so they can't hit us while we get close enough so you can punch a hole through the spindle. " Skyla gulped the last of her stassa. "What I'd give for a battleship about now."

  A long silence prevailed.

  "You think that's them?" Lark asked absently. "Or will we catch up and find the CV boosting on automatic?" Skyla shoved her stassa bulb under the dispenser. From

  long practice, she pulled,the bulb out just as it filled and blew to cool the liquid. "It's them. I've told myself that over and over again. Staffa says that observation creates reality, well, fine. I'm going to observe Arta's blasted corpse in that CV. I'm going to see Ily with her guts strung all over the cockpit in that same CV-- she pointed with the dr
inking bulb-"right up there.

  "You hear that, Seddi God? I'm observing. You make it real, you bastard. "

  "Yeah," Lark mumbled. "And while you're at it, teach me to shoot straight, okay?"

  CHAPTER 32

  ID-893756306 DOCNEG

  Name: Diane de la. Luna Clan: Ceilo Vista Place of Birth: Vega Prime, Vega, Sassan Empire Date of Birth: 5720:06:13:14:39 GST Occupation: Representative's Assistant

  Uut Station: Ashtan New Station: Itreata

  Greetings! Know all authorities by these documents that the above-named person, Diane de la Luna, is duly authorized to represent the affairs and duties of the Representative's office as is required by her government, clan, and family.

  The Honorable Diane de la Luna is hereby and forthwith authorized to meet and conduct negotiations with such parties as are responsible for political relationships within the Territories of the Itreatic Asteroids, their Free Zones, and Holdings. Further, be it known that as Representative of the Vegan Clans, de la Luna is fully authorized by said Clans to conduct such business which might be conducive to trade, commerce, or economics by any person, or persons, either within the Imperial government, its assigns, or executors, or such individuals representing private concerns interested in passing goods through Vegan ports, or on ships bearing Vegan registry.

  Be it known, therefore, that Diane de la Luna has every confidence of the Vegan Council, the Clans, and His Holiness Sassa II.

  The Great Seal of Vega

  Affixed this day of 5780:01:12:09:30 Phillipe Moctezuma Clan Councillor/Rep/Min Vega

  For long moments, Staffa remained where he lay, flat on his back, his stare fixed on the curve of his ceiling. Despite the muzzy sensations of too little sleep, the fact continued to drift around his brain. The Mag Comm claims it can break the Forbidden Borders.

  Could it? The machine wanted Countermeasures, the secret weapon Staffa had designed to cripple enemy battlefield communications. The ship was nothing more than an old Formosan freighter, but she packed more energy generation per kilo than anything in space. All that power was used to energize a single transmitter that excited heavy elements to create virtual pairs of subatomic particles. Those, in turn, were separated by a gravitational field, one set of particles broadcast and the other stasis warped. When the broadcast particles reached their destination, the captured half of the pair was released and stimulated by laser, affecting its twin across space-time, and creating havoc with comm systems in the bombarded area.

  Staffa stretched and yawned, his curiosity piqued. When he'd finally struggled through the desolation in his mind and sought to remove the golden helmet, he hadn't felt well enough to study the printout Mag Comm had made for Countermeasures.

  Sinklar had been there, sober as an Etarian priest before a consecration. He'd been unable to form the question on his lips that was burning in his oddly colored eyes.

  "The deal is struck," Staffa had groaned. "The printout. Send it to Dee Wall.

  Tell him to do it. Whatever it is." And he'd gone limp, brain starting to pound in gravelly agony with each heartbeat. "Mag Comm's going to break the Forbidden Borders. It's given its word, Sinklar. Its offer of faith."

  He'd slumped then, completely bereft of sense or sensation beyond the throbbing pain cracking his skull.

  Sinklar entered the room, bearing a tray covered with mirror-domed stasis plates. A crooked grin bent his lips as he settled the tray and clicked off the coverings to reveal

  steaming steak, tapa, and chubba, all garnished with habanero peppers.

  "That smells Staffa closed his eyes, aware of his hunger-cramped stomach.

  'Yes?'I ". . . better than anything I've ever smelled before. Including when I came out of the desert on Etaria."

  "Dig in. How are you feeling?"

  Staffa adjusted the gravity on his bed and speared a fat chunk of meat. "I'm tired, Sinklar. As tired as I've ever been. But for the first time, I think there's hope for us. Any word from Dee Wall on the modifications to Countermeasures ?"

  "Nothing. To be honest, I've had my mind on other matters. I thought we'd better clear the decks on developments which occurred while you were asleep.

  Not much, just sabotage, treason, and attempted assassination."

  "Assassination? Whose?"

  "Yours. Oh, and the Mag Comm's, if we can consider it to be alive and a politically powerful personality."

  Staffa had stopped chewing, attention fully centered on his son. His voice lowered. "Go ahead."

  Sinklar dropped into the gravchair opposite Staffa, gesturing with his hand.

  "You eat. I'll talk while you refuel." Staffa wolfed his piece of meat as Sinklar outlined the actions taken first by Bruen, then Nyklos, and what he'd done about them.

  "And Kaylla? How did she take this accusation of being my lover? Rotted Gods, if I ever tried to touch her, she'd throw up! "

  Sinklar's expression reflected distaste. "She looked shattered, Staffa. That's the closest words can come." "Should have shot him years ago. All right, go on. What

  next?" Pus drown Nyklos! Of all the ways to hurt Kaylla, he d chosen the worst. And she V trusted him, defended him. So much for justice.

  "Ark and Adze both asked me to wait for you to awaken before we came to any sort of decision." Sinklar pulled up his knee, expression composed as he measured Staffa with those two-toned eyes. "You gave me the responsibility. I used it. Since Nyklos admitted to everything, I was satisfied that we had the facts. I have also believed in accountability

  for a long time. As military governor of this planet, I therefore turned Bruen over to the Targan judicial system. He's currently awaiting trial in Kaspa.

  " Sinklar!

  "Wait! Hear me out."

  Staffa frowned in irritation at his son. He'd given his word that Bruen could find sanctuary in the Itreatic Asteroids, live there in peace. He'd made that promise just on the other side of Makarta Mountain from where he now sat.

  "Accountability, Staffa. " Sinklar's expression had hardened. "Bruen threw this entire planet into civil war. Almost a million people are dead now because of his actions. He plotted to destroy the subspace link, assassinate you, and destroy the machine. I don't count those as a friend's actions, Staffa. He betrayed us. Betrayed you and the trust you'd placed in him."

  Staffa stared at his plate.

  "Staffa, I took you at your word. You say you believe in breaking the old unilateral epistemology. Either you trust me with responsibility, or you don't. Make your decision now, Father."

  Staffa closed his eyes, trying to fit the pieces together. Poor Bruen, hatred for the machine had eaten too deeply into his soul. A grim sense of justice played about the edges of Staffa's thoughts. Nyklos had finally proved true to his instincts. They'd never liked each other-hostile from the moment they'd met.

  "And Nyklos?"

  "He will be returned to Itreata where we'll have to establish a joint tribunal which includes Seddi, Companions, and any other interested parties. While we're at it, we might as well expand it, turn it into a codified legal system.

  That way everyone will know the rules."

  "Indeed? "

  "Rotted right, indeed! Staffa, we've an empire to administer. That's more than just moving tapa leaves from one planet to another. That means law. A codified system of behavior. Right now-at least in Regan space-it all hinges on how individual Administrators interpret Imperial doctrine. Not counting Internal Security, mind you. Pus alone knows how Ily's Directors handle legal affairs, but I doubt

  it's just. And the Sassans? That's completely outside of my experience. "

  "Yes, you're right," Staffa agreed. "The time has come for us to know all the rules. Accountability? Quite a concept to attempt to implement. Think you're up to it? "

  Sinklar's expression changed ever so subtly. "Rotted Gods, I've started to understand you. I know that look in your eyes, and I'm not going to like it. "

  ' 'Of course you will." Staffa resumed the attack on his breakfast.
"And what we like isn't always what we're allowed to do, or become. In your case, I'm dropping another load on your shoulders. We need a codified system of justice.

  Not just for Companions and Seddi. For everyone." :'Wait. Hold it. I'm not-"

  'Yes, you are. You're admirably suited for it. You've experienced injustice firsthand. You understand power and its abuses. You have a thorough understanding of history. And you have your new book. The Mag Comm can probably translate the whole thing for you. It might beat fooling around with faulty data cubes. Build your body of law, Sinklar. From the bottom up. A new epistemology."

  Sinklar had retreated into his own thoughts, frown lines eating up his forehead.

  ' 'o questions about the machine?" Staffa asked. "No nagging worry that I sold out humanity?"

  Sinklar shot him a startled glance. "No, not a one. You're acting terribly normal and relieved. You've dropped the mannerisms of the suffering saint that I've become so used to. If you had even the faintest suspicion that you'd been duped, that preoccupied insecurity would still be in your eyes. "

  Staffa swallowed the last of the succulent chubba leaves and pushed the tray back as he picked up the stass'a cup and sipped. "The machine claims that with our help it can break the Forbidden Borders within a month of the modifications being completed to Countermeasures. "

  " And the Mag Comm itself? How did it build a computer? "

  " Would you believe gravitational epitaxy?" Staffa explained the physics so far as he knew them. "That's why it needs us to build the robots. Solid-state products are one thing. Moving parts are something else. Our omnipotent friend isn't nearly as omnipotent as we could wish. He wants to deal, and his currency is data manipulation and infor-, mation. "

  Sinklar pulled at his knobby nose with a nervous hand. "In the end, what really made you trust the machine?" "Logic." Staffa sipped his stassa. "The machine is right.

  If it can break the Forbidden Borders, we won't be in competition with each other no matter what permutations the future takes. Our destiny as a species can't help but be different from the Mag Comm's. We're organic intelligences with limited life spans. We must produce, consume, exploit, and reproduce. The machine is an electronic-I think-intelligence that's stuck inside a planet.