Counter-Measures

by W. Michael Gear

  I mean, he's dead. All right, I can accept that, but what difference did it make in the end? No one will ever notice. Was the Empire better as a result of his life? Rot, no! No one but me will ever notice that he's missing. " She shook her head. "If you'd asked him, Skyla, if you'd have said, 'Fred Gaust, are you happy with your life?' he'd have answered, 'No. They never appreciated me for all that I did for them. ' "

  "Most government people tend to say that."

  "And most are probably as gut-worthless as my father was. Well, I'm not going to be that way, Skyla. Since I've met you, I've either been scared for my life or weaving on my feet from exhaustion. I've watched real power being wielded by people like you, and Lady Attenasio, and Commander Braktov. I've seen respect reflected in your eyes and theirs." Lark pointed a freckled finger.

  "And you know what? It was respect for me. Not for my position, but for me as a human being. That's the difference between me and my father, and I'm sticking with it . . . if you'll let me."

  Skyla pushed back with one arm as she sipped her stassa. She gave Lark an amused inspection. "And what if I say no? "

  Lark caught the tone in her voice and grinned. "Then I'll march out the hatch and see if Commander Braktov will take me. If she turns me down, there's always Lady Attenasio. "

  Skyla scowled in mock disgust. "Kid, with an attitude like you've got, I guess you're bound and determined to get yourself shot at, so it might just as well be with me as with Rysta. "

  ' 'Do you mean that? You're not just feeling guilty because of what happened to my family?"

  "No, kid. I mean it - "

  Lark acknowledged with a simple nod, her expression turning evaluative. "While we're on the subject of Commander Braktov and Lady Attenasio, you could have pulled rank in there but you didn't. You could have told them to take you anywhere in pursuit of Ily and Arta."

  Skyla squinted at her drinking bulb. "Yes, I could have. Given the circumstances, it wasn't worth it. First, I'd rather have a ship of my own, small, fast, and mobile. Second, it would have meant a head-to-head fight with Chrysla, and I'm not sure it would have paid off in the long run. Not if MacRuder died as a result. Third-and pay attention to this-Chrysla had all of her data together when we walked into her quarters. She laid out the facts coolly and dispassionately. We can't make a judgment on where to chase off to find Ily. I got lucky on the jump to Terguz, and I could make a gut call on Ashtan, but this time I'm dry of ideas. :'Always have my data together. Got it."

  'More than that. Listen to what other people say. You don't have to like them, or even respect them, but every now and then you get an advantage-even from people you despise. You're not in command to assuage your ego. You're there to either win or minimize losses so you can win next time. "

  "And if Ily said something you could use?"

  Skyla gave Lark a crooked grin. , ,Okay, sure, I'd make use of it. It just means I might have to cut her throat behind the scenes rather than on stage front.

  "She likes you, you know." "Ily? Are you-"

  "Chrysla. You can tell just by the way she looks at you. There's a sympathy, and a vulnerability, and a respect all

  wrapped up. I think it drives her a little berserk, especially when you're so hostile. "

  "I'm not hostile. I'm . Skyla made a gesture. "I'm just not sure I trust her, that's all. It's ... It's . . . "

  "You don't have to explain. I was just making an observation, nothing more.

  Part of my job."

  "Youriob?" Lark shrugged. "I work for you, don't I? Maybe that information might come in handy one of these days. "

  Skyla studied Lark from half-lidded eyes. "You know, kid, you keep your wits about you, and you could go far in this business. "

  "Yeah, I know. " Lark's green stare had internalized again. "Provided Ily and Arta don't kill me first, right?"

  CHAPTER 36

  I swore in the beginning that I would keep this journal up to date; but then, I suppose that all people who decide to keep a journal swear the same thing. I feel a little goofy tonight. Too much klav and stassa and not enough sleep.

  We're all reeling on our feet, working like rodents on a grain transport. You can see it in the eyes. Everyone on the crew is faded looking except for their eyes, bloodshot, baggy, and burning.

  Observation: The more I see of civilization, the more it seems to be based on sleep deprivation. The more you advance, the greater the workload, the less sleep any given individual gets at night. There must be a formula.

  See, I've even forgotten to write down what I wanted to make note of. We've finished the dish-the big hemispherical electromagnet-and have moved it into place at Countermeasures' bow. The null singularity dome and generator have been removed and we're at the point right now of positioning the braces for attachment to the structural members in the hull.

  I've been around for awhile and, working for the Companions, I've seen a lot of design variations. Countermeasures has me and the whole team completely baffled. With the new reactors installed on the vessel's stem she can put out fifty gigatons of thrust and still provide enough electrical power to fill the needs of four planets like Rega. Okay, so what we've got is a huge electromagnet with incredible thrust-so what's Staffa planning on moving with this thing? What has enough charge, or can be charged, that weighs that much?

  A moon? A planet?

  That's what comes to mind at first, but let's be serious, it's got to fit within the arc of the electrodome. Otherwise Countermeasures isn't structurally viable. ,

  And, finally, how does moving an object gain us any ground on the real problem, manipulating the gravitational field: a force? All I can say, Lord Commander, is that we're on schedule, proceeding posthaste for completion, but you've got us puzzled something fierce!

  -Excerpt taken from Dee Wall's personal journal

  Staffa paused in the hallway before Sinklar's room. The news about Nyklos'

  suicide had come as a surprise. Curiously unnerved by the act, Staffa had decided to inform Sinklar in person. Now, he hesitated and wondered at himself.

  Rot you, Nyklos! How did you know? What made you guess that my nightmares would include you? Even now, in this spotless white corridor, Staffa could sense the electric animosity they'd felt for each other. Two bristling male dogs, Kaylla had once called them.

  Will you rest now, Nyklos? Or will I meet you one day when we join God Mind together? Will our energy mingle and create understanding in the end-or violent conflict?

  Muttering under his breath about being foolish, he touched the lock plate, calling, "Sinklar? This is Staffa. Are you in?"

  " Come in," the door comm answered, and the hatch slid back.

  Staffa stepped cautiously inside, his charcoal cloak swirling around him.

  Sinklar sat at his desk, feet kicked up, a cup of stassa in his hands as he studied the wall monitor opposite him. There, in bold display, was a page from the ancient history book. The rest of the room looked neat, everything stowed according to regulation. The holo tanks inset in the wall displayed scenes of Targa, and the air carried the faint scent of the pines.

  "Reading?" Reluctant to dive into the purpose of his visit, Staffa indicated the page of history. "How's the translation? "

  "Excellent. " Sinklar pulled his feet from the desktop, straightening and placing his stassa on the surface as he

  studied Staffa with his oddly colored eyes. "How did you manage to do this?"

  "Ran a scanner over the page and input the data into the machine. I suspected that the Mag Comm knew that ancient dialect. Are you checking every now and then with the dictionary? ",

  Sinklar nodded. "From my totally nonrepresentative sample, the Mag Comm gave me the best translation it could. Some of the names however ... well, what do you do with something like Themistocles? Or how about Gilgamesh? "

  " Gilgamesh?

  "A king from an early civilization called Sumer-a group of cities that seem to have been pivotal to the formation of later civilizations. They
turned old Gilgamesh into quite a character-worthy of an Etarian holo series." Sinklar's grin went crooked. "You and Gilgamesh. Think of that. You break the Forbidden Borders and they'll be talking about you forever."

  Staffa ran his fingers down one of the wall supports, restless gaze following the lines up to the ceiling. The idea seemed singularly unappealing, especially considering Nyklos' poetry. "I would just as soon be forgotten. I'm no hero, Sinklar. "

  "Heroes don't have much say in their fame or fortune, Staffa. They are named by others. Judged after the fact." "I really would rather be forgotten.

  Nothing I could do,

  no matter how grandiose, would balance the deeds of the Star Butcher. After I'm gone, see to it, will you?"

  "See to removing you from the record?" A frown had eaten into Sinklar's forehead. "Are you serious?"

  "I wouldn't have said it if I wasn't. Listen, from the time I was forced out of Myklene by the ruling Council, I did what I was trained to. I was the Star Butcher. You know the list of atrocities I committed. A monster shouldn't receive anything for his deeds-let alone notoriety. "

  Sinklar jerked a thumb at the history book. "Some of these guys may not have equaled your record, but they were pretty grisly. I've scanned the section on a fellow by the name of Ghengis Khan. He left pyramids of human heads in cities he completely depopulated. In the process, he crossed half of the Earth-on horseback, if you can believe-and only used swords and arrows for weapons.

  "Then when you get to something they call the Twentieth Century, you've got guys named Hitler, Stalin, and Pol,Pot. Some of them ran death camps-factories-that did nothing but kill human beings by the millions. "

  Sinklar's expression turned sour. "Think of it. A death factory!"

  "Overpopulation? "

  Sinklar lifted an eyebrow. "You'd never make it as a Twentieth Century despot.

  You're much too pragmatic. No, they killed them because they didn't like their ethnic affiliation. " At Staffa's blank look, Sinklar added, "It means you'd kill people from Riparious just because they were Riparians-even if they were living on Ashtan. "

  "Why? What difference would it make where they came from? "

  "I told you, you'd never make it as a Twentieth Century despot. Even at the height of the Star Butcher phase, you were interested only in conquest-and as efficiently as possible. Not in the infliction of misery for its own sake. You never ran a death camp. "

  "Don't apologize for me. You can't. And what you say is all the more reason for me to be forgotten. It's too easy to be a monster. Why remind people.'

  '

  Sinklar lowered his voice. "You're not a monster."

  "I came down here to tell you that they just checked on Nyklos. He's dead."

  Sinklar came to immediate attention, the question intense in his eyes.

  "The Seddi-especially the top people-are equipped to take their own lives.

  Nyklos tried this once before. That time Skyla had dripped a little Mytol between his lips. His trick tooth didn't work. In this instance, it did."

  Staffa bowed his head. "My fault. I should have remembered."

  "Kaylla should have remembered," Sinklar tilted his head pensively. "I guess he didn't have the courage to face her. Don't torture yourself over it. Nyklos took responsibility for himself. When you think about it, a person's life is the only thing which is irrevocably their own. After his integrity went, maybe Nyklos had nothing left."

  A long silence passed before Sinklar asked, "Any word on Skyla?"

  Relieved by the change of subject, Staffa said, "Rysta picked her up. They're spacing for Itreata and should arrive just before we do. She's fine . . . and has a young woman with her. Lark's her name. Daughter of the Administrator on Terguz. " Staffa pushed on the wall, as if testing its solidity. "Mac's still in cryostasis. From what Rysta's people can tell, his condition is isostatic.

  Not healing, not deteriorating. "

  Sinklar picked up a data cube and started tossing it into the air. Casually, he asked, "How are you going to deal with Chrysla? "

  Staffa walked over and sat on the bunk before leaning back against the wall to stare at the Targan scene in the holo. "What would you suggest? Public execution? How about electric shock? Flaying has always been a favorite of mine. They scream louder as they see what their muscles really look like, and the blood drips drop by drop."

  :'Nyklos really got to you. I thought you didn't like him. 'I didn't. He left me a note that opened old wounds. It will pass and I'll resume my usual cheery optimism. After all, what's another dead man? But we were talking about Mac and Chrysla. Let's deal with them, shall we?"

  Sinklar examined the data cube briefly, then gave Staffa his full attention.

  "Go ahead."

  "I've already sent the orders to the medical staff on Itreata. They're going to treat Mac as if he's the most important person in Free Space. Total genetic coding, electro-stim, cranial-neuro rehab, blood filtering, and gereostabilization. He'll come out looking better than he did when he shipped for Targa the first time. "

  "That wouldn't take much. He was horribly hung over, as I recall. And Chrysla?

  :'Why are you so concerned?

  'Ben MacRuder is one of the most important people in all the universe to me.

  He and Chrysla are lovers. They're happy with each other and want a chance. I intend to see that they get it. Do I have to recall my Divisions to ensure their safety?"

  Staffa laced his fingers together over his stomach and lifted his thumbs in a gesture of acceptance. "She's free, Sinklar. I've told you how I feel about her. I'm not going to make it difficult for her, or MacRuder. They have my blessing."

  "Just like that? No ill will? No smarting male pride? " "None. A bit of wistful

  melancholy, perhaps. Fate, the.

  dance of the quanta-call it what you will-took her from me. That chance, at that point in time, was stolen from us. No matter what we'd like, Sinklar, we must live in our present, not the past."

  "So I don't have to go to war."

  "Did you really think I'd start foaming at the mouth and scream and blast Mac into little pieces?"

  Sinklar tossed his cube up and grabbed it out of the air. "Honestly, I'd come to hope you wouldn't. The more I got to know You, the more I suspected you'd understand. "

  "Very well, since we're dealing with such things, I'm not the only one with a problem here. In orbit over Rega you managed to do everything in your power to avoid Chrysla. You don't have to beam eternal filial love with your every glance, but you do have to come to terms with your mother. "

  Sinklar's fist closed as he caught the data cube. "You don't see Arta Fera looking back every time your eyes meet. You don't association those amber eyes with the rotting corpse of the woman you love. I do."

  Staffa pulled himself to his feet, stepping to the hatch and then hesitating.

  "Look in the mirror sometime, Sinklar. Take one hand and cover your gray eye.

  See who's looking back at you. That amber eye is the same as Arta Fera'sthe same as Chrysla's. Where do you want to set the limits of your responsibility to your mother? At who she is ... or the color of her eyes?"

  Sinklar's fist had tightened until the knuckles whitened.

  Ily sat just out of visual range of the comm monitor as Arta Fera prepared to bring the CV Insystem. through the Itreatic Asteroids. Through the right port, the glaring violet-white display of the Twin Titans continued their gaudy dance of radiation and violence.

  The CV had been hailed hours ago from the deep-space detection buoys which monitored the approaches to Itreata. Arta had responded appropriately, sending the signal ahead.

  Now they would see if the first part of their gambit would pay off. Before the Chrysla sham could work, they needed to set foot on Itreata.

  This was a stupid idea, Ily told herself. You were sick, hurt, half-crazy to think of this. It will never work!

  It's got to!

  "Greetings, CV 720, this is Itreata Insystem.
We have found your registry in the Vegan catalog and cross-checked. May your clan prosper. Our compliments to the de la Luna family. Honor be with you. We're sending visual, please lock on our signal and respond."

  Well, at least that much had worked. Itreata hadn't recognized the CV as Holt's Regan ship. ,

  Arta's fingers dialed the signal in and locked, the comm flickering and forming a woman's face. Delay on the lightbound signal would take about thirty seconds at this distance.

  "This is Lady Chrysla Marie Attenasio. We have your signal locked. Do you need data on Delta V or vector for course correction? "

  I'm going to get us killed through this idiotic stunt. Illy d closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. The seconds dragge past.

  ."Negative, Lady Attenasio. We have your position precisely plotted and will request Insystem control of your navcomm when you close to within 0.2 LY. We had you scheduled for arrival aboard the Regan cruiser Qyton, after rendezvousing with the Wing Commander and Rega One. Do you need medical for First MacRuder? Please inform."

  Chrysla paused the transmission. "They expected me? She's aboard Gyton?"

  Ily panicked for an instant, then waved it away. "No! No. Tell them . . . tell them plans changed. The CV was faster. Gyton will be following."

  Ily triggered the comm. "Itreata Comm, that's a negative on medical for MacRuder. Given the time to match with Rega One we thought it prudent for me to take the first available transportation in. What is the current location of the Lord Commander?"

  As they waited for the response, Ily pinched the bridge of her nose. "They act like she's alive! Rotted Gods, I . . . wait. Skyla said they never found the body. Maybe she got

  off Pylos? Maybe she escaped Myklene and made it out alive?

  "Remember the attempt to arrest MacRuder and Rysta on Rega? Supposedly I took them from your people at the Defense Ministry. Now Itreata seems to think Chrysla is with Qyton. Do you suppose that was her?"

  "How do I know? Go with it! Assume she's alive! Play their game! By the Rotted Gods, just don't get cute and kill us both!"

  The woman on the comm link responded, "The Lord Commander is in transit from Targa. Do you wish to patch a message through to him?"