What kind of mad scheme is she trying to talk you into?"
Sinklar pointed at Countermeasures. "She wants to be on the first ship through the Forbidden Borders. "
Staffa sipped his single malt and enjoyed the carefully neutral posture Sinklar struggled to maintain. "And, naturally, if you go, she goes, correct?"
"You're that familiar with her methods?" The faint ghost of a frown cracked Sinklar's composure. "Is there something about her I should know?"
"Let me put it this way. What exactly is your interest in her? Lover? "
"I'm not ready for another lover. " Sinklar turned his gaze from the Countermeasures holo to the fire. "She wants to work with me. To her way of thinking, it will be mutually beneficial. And I will say this for her, she spotted one of the problems I've been struggling with. She's right. I'm not ready for a desk job, Staffa. I guess I got spoiled by all the excitement. I'm having a tough time slowing down to the placid life of an administrator. "
"Ah, splendid youth when the lure of excitement boils like nitrogen in the blood during decompression."
"What a charming metaphor."
"She's an attractive woman," Staffa added. "You'd probably do very well with her."
"I told you, I'm not interested in her-not that way." "Most of the guys on the gun deck are. I hear they've
driven the scuttlebutt up to sixty credits now. The bookies are laying three to two odds against Stew Mako. "
"Who? And how did you know about the scuttlebutt? That's supposed to be her big secret. "
"It is. To everyone except Ark and myself. That bulletin board was my . . .
well, it was Skyla's idea, actually. She thought it would be smart to initiate it to keep track of the crew's mood. When grumbles start making the rounds, it shows up in the scuttlebutt before it goes critical. We fix the situation if it needs fixing, or knock a head or two if it's a discipline matter."
:'Then I take it that you're not impressed by Adze." 'Quite the contrary, Sinklar. I didn't mean to give you that opinion. She has a great deal of potential and native ability. The best I've seen in years. She's a damned fast learner. Keeps her head when the shooting starts. Thinks on her feet, doesn't panic in a disaster, and has too much guts for her own good. "
"And the negatives?"
Staffa sipped his drink, tilting his head. "She's still young. Every now and then she makes a judgment that I find a bit premature. Her tendency is to shoot first and worry about the consequences later. She's impulsive, headstrong, and completely convinced that she's invincible." Staffa nodded and grumbled to himself. "A younger copy of Skyla Lyma. She just looks different is all."
Sinklar didn't say much as his gaze drifted between Countermeasures and the fire.
Staffa turned his drinking bulb, remembering. "And having said that, you could do a lot worse. If you want, I'll approve any transfer."
Sinklar shrugged. "I'm not sure I'm ready to make that kind of commitment yet, but thank you."
* "
Staffa finally laughed and added', I guess it wouldn't be such a bad thing if you and Adze came with me."
"With you?"
Staffa nodded, raising his eyes to the ghostly holo of Countermeasures.
"You don't think I'm going to miss being on the first ship out, do you? I've invested my life and the lives of a lot of other people in cracking this bottle. Free Space doesn't need me. It has Kaylla, the Mag Comm, Myles Roma, and Dion Axel." He smiled wearily. "And maybe MacRuder and Chrysla.
"Then you're not coming back?"
I'No, Sinklar. What would I do? There's no place in Free Space for the Star Butcher. I was created to be a destroyer. When the Forbidden Borders go down, my time will have passed. Humanity will have a new future, and new leaders for those challenges."
He shook his head. "It's common among survivors to wonder why they were the ones lucky enough to live when so many around them died. It creates a dilemma which hounds them throughout their lives. Was it divine intervention? Fate?
Some unaccountable action? I've seen soldiers ponder for years, trying to understand that the difference of one seat in an assault craft can mean death or survival. A sense of unworthiness develops as the individual asks, 'Why did those good men and women die while I survived?' "
"I know the syndrome. " Sinklar smiled wearily. "For me, I think about the Kaspa Section Three post office. Three of us made it out-and two hundred and eighty died."
"That's another reason I need to leave. I need to come to terms with why. Not because I'm a victim, but because I'm a perpetrator. Don't you see? Those who commit atrocities never ask why, they simply assume that things like that happen: people must die to make social progress. I can look you in the eyes and tell you that all the victims of my wars died to buy the rest of us time to break the Forbidden Borders. They were sacrificed to allow us to solve some of our most pressing problems.
"That's the easy answer, Sinklar. Nice and neat. I can accept it, just as a soldier can accept that his friends must die in war. But as a perpetrator seeking morality, I have been forced to ask: Why was I the one who had to kill them? What made me different? How did I get chosen for the role of mindless butcher? How could I have become that agent of misery, suffering, and terror?
Am I so different from anyone else, Sinklar? From Peebal, or Koree, or Kaylla?
Is it in the genetics the Praetor manipulated to create me?"
Sinklar shook his head, his pained gaze on the fire. "It's over, Staffa. Don't torture yourself."
Staffa curled his fingers as if seeking to capture something out of the air.
"Don't you see, Sinklar? If the killers can
learn to ask that question, perhaps humanity can finally turn a corner into a new era."
Sinklar stared at the fire for quite a while. Then he asked, "Where will you go?"
Staffa waved an arm. "Out there! The quanta Rot it, child, I have two whole universes to discover.
I'Two?'I "Outside and within."
"Do you think Skyla will want to head off into the unknown like that? Just cut all the strings?"
Would she? "I'll have to ask her. "And you'd take Chrysla?"
"She's one of the best ships in Free Space. I built her. She's mine. I can't think of a better vessel for uncharted space. " He waved any concerns away.
"Oh, we'd have to return to Itreata every now and then for a rejuv for us and a refit for the ship. Maybe Ark, or Dee Wall, or some of the others might have the same need for excitement that you do. They might want to trade off every now and then."
"What if Skyla wants to stay here?"
Staffa glanced disdainfully at his son. "Then my judgment when I picked her was worse than Adze's when she picked you."
"If . . . if it turns into that kind of relationship."
"Yes, if it does. You're a smarter man than I was at your age. You need to know yourself first." Like I need to discover myself, my son. And no matter what, humanity could slowly begin to forget the nightmare of the Star Butcher.
I will have atoned. If only Peebal, Koree, and a little bald man from Phillipia could know. Perhaps someday, in shared God Mind, they would.
Andray Sornsen almost trembled as he hurried around his lab. In anticipation, he'd sent his associates home early, and now he fiddled with a pile of reports, straightening and reshuffling in an attempt to create an air of organized professionalism.
For twenty years he'd dreamed of this day. For most of those same years, he'd believed her dead. Yet not for one
instant had his love for the golden-eyed girl with red-shot hair faded from his memory or heart.
Was it possible? Could those hallowed days he'd shared with her on Ashtan live again? Granted, a psychologist inherently understood that the past couldn't be recaptured but perhaps a new present could be manufactured on the rubble of dusty dreams.
The Lord Commander had a new woman-his volatile Wing Commander-and at this opportune moment, Chrysla-risen like a resurrected Blessed angel-had returned.
His lab was a large place, more than forty meters in length and nearly as wide. At the time of Sornsen's arrival, a worrystricken Staffa kar Therma had granted his every requestsince this was supposed to have been Chrysla's laboratory. As a result, he not only had a complete pharmacy but every piece of equipment imaginable.
Despite his resentment at being a virtual captive, he'd done good work over the years, the sort of work Chrysla could be proud of-even if he hadn't been able to publish the material he'd generated about the Companions. Perhaps now that she was here, coming to see him, that would change. Not only could he disseminate his data and analyses, but he could prove himself to her, explain how the years had tormented him.
The door chimed and opened. At that moment, Andray Sornsen straightened his smock and arched his back. The pounding of his heart and the thrill of adrenaline left him paralyzed by the excitement of the moment.
She entered, tall, athletic, the light glinting in her auburn hair. Those familiar eyes seemed to glow as she saw him and hesitated. "Andray?"
"Chrysla Marie." He took an uncertain step forward, adrift in his own confusion and uncertainty. "I . . . I've missed you . . . "
"And I you, Andray," she told him, a smile bringing small dimples to her cheeks. Extending a hand, she added, "Come, tell me what you've been doing all these years."
Andray Sornsen barely nodded as Chrysla introduced her companion. The dam within burst, and he began to talk, chattering about his accomplishments and about the worry
he'd endured all these years. She listened, amber eyes centered only on him.
I
"Andray," she finally interrupted. "This is wonderful. But is there somewhere we could go to talk? Privately?" She glanced around. "Or will you be bothered here? I mean, you know, monitored?"
He shook his head. "Oh, no. This is a psychiatric facility. I need only lock the door and no one will disturb us. But why?"
She gave him a smile that melted his heart. "I have some things I need to talk through with you - Problems of my own. I wouldn't want them to . . . well, you understand. Let's say, get to the wrong ears - "
His breast felt as if it would explode from joy. "I understand completely. I have only my own monitors for recording a subject-for later study, you see.
What good would a psychologist do if the subject knew that security was listening?
You have a wonderful supply of drugs," Diane, the servant, remarked. "Here I see tritekscopalamine. What does that do?"
"Induces a form of paralysis, freezes a person for hours. Chrysla turned, studying her servant. "Perhaps the STU outside the door would like some? After that, Diane, access the comm to amuse yourself. You need not worry about me.
Andray and I . . . well, don't disturb us. "
"As you wish, my lady," de la Luna replied, reaching for the drug container.
"Wait! You can't just But Chrysla had stepped close, placing her cool hands on either side of his hot face. Andray Sornsen forgot himself as he stared into those wondrous eyes.
"Andray, it's all right," she whispered, kissing him lightly on the lips. "We need time. Just you and I. I'm here to fulfill your fantasies . . . all of them. I've waited for years to be alone with you. You've loved me, haven't you?"
"Yes ... oh Blessed Gods, I have. But to drug an STU . That sense of wrongness prickled at the back of his mind.
Trust me, Andray. "' Those amber eyes burned with excitement. Her arms went around his neck as she molded to him. His blood began to pound in his ears as her breasts
pressed firmly into his chest and she kissed him with greater vigor.
He tried to hesitate, to put it all in perspective. Something about her .
. . Why me?
"Trust me, Andray. " Her voice had dropped sensually. "Trust me and I'll be yours forever."
He closed his eyes, savoring her scent, aware of his rising desire as his erection snagged painfully in the folds of his clothing. The slight undulations of her pubis against his shot electric thrills along his muscles.
His doubts, the little voice crying out in his mind, drowned in the rush of sexual desire.
"I've missed you, Andray," she insisted. "I wanted you here in the beginning so we could be together."
His thoughts had turned to jelly as he tightened his hold on her, fevered with the secret desire he'd struggled through the years to forget.
"Love me, Andray. Please? "Your . servant? Diane?"
"She understands. Come, we'll go to your office. And after that, I'll never leave you. Never again. "
Andray Sornsen walked like a man possessed. There she was, the woman he'd loved and lusted for all of his lifestaring at him with an insatiable desire to comple)ne'nt his own. She pressed the door closed behind her, then sighed as she began kissing him, carefully removing his smock and shirt to run charged fingers across his chest.
He attacked her then, peeling her clothing away as he kicked his pants to one side. For long moments he reveled in the exploration of her body while she gasped and writhed under his touch. Then she settled back on the recliner beside his desk and he lowered himself. The feel of her soft body under his stimulated his hot flesh to the point of bursting.
When she tightened around him, he opened his eyes to find her staring at him-that amber gaze oddly predatory as her hips began to undulate.
Skyla stood behind the command chair as Gyton dropped back into regular space.
That moment of disorientation passed as the light cones began to straighten and the warship's null singularity drive deactivated. The bridge monitors indicated the ship's functions to be within the parameters for normal operation. Navcomm processors tackled the intricate chore of interpreting light warped by the ship's mass at this threshold of light speed. As the sophisticated comm unscrambled the blueshifted mess received by the sensors, the images of the Twin Titans appeared in the forward monitor and the familiar landmarks of the Itreata system firmed up.
Rysta swiveled her command chair and looked up. "Do you want to let them know now, Wing Commander?" "The sooner the better. Given the critical nature of the trouble, we'd better go subspace and let them worry about the fuses - "
"Comm First," Rysta barked, "give Wing Commander Lyma a subspace link to Itreata."
"Affirmative. I'm establishing the link right ... now. Go ahead, Wing Commander."
"Attention Itreata Comm, this is Wing Commander Skyla Lyma. I need a patch to Magister Kaylla Dawn and Itreata Security. I'm aboard the Regan battle cruiser Gyton. We're heading Insystem at 0.99 c, course vector two three eight by two four seven by zero six one. "
Skyla nodded as STO Wheeler's face formed on the monitor. "Hello, Rob. This is Wing Commander Lyma aboard Gyton. STO, be aware that we have reason to believe that Ily Takka and her assassin, Arta Fera, may be attempting to penetrate Itreata's security. If they're in the process, they'll arrive aboard a Regan CV. Any vessel matching that description is to be immediately boarded in force and the occupants taken. Any vessel matching that description and making hostile or unauthorized movements is to be immediately disabled. Do you understand?"
Wheeler had stiffened, her expression icy. "Is Lady Attenasio with you? "
"Right here. " Skyla pointed to Chrysla, aware that the focus of the pickup was expanding.
Wheeler appeared stricken, bracing herself with one hand as she turned. "I want a complete deployment. Get them! Now!"
Skyla's heart sank. "They're already there."
Kaylla Dawn's face, looking bleary and half-asleep, had formed in the second monitor. "What's wrong?"
Skyla cursed and stomped a foot to vent some of the frustrated anger. "Arta and Ily are inside Itreata. Apparently under Chrysla's alias. Secure Your systems, Magister. We're still inbound. Do you have any Companions on Itreata?"
" Delshay and Cobra are preparing to space."
"Patch a line through to Delshay. Roberta, coordinate with Delshay in deployment. We've got to find her. Your orders are to use any means possible to ap
prehend or neutralize the threat. "
The muscles in Roberta Wheeler's face were jumping, the corners of her mouth twitching. "My fault. It happened on my watch."
"Easy, STO, if you made a mistake, it'll show in the records and we'll correct it. If you didn't-and knowing you, I suspect you didn't-they used a flaw in the process."
Wheeler inclined her head slightly, then looked up at the monitor. "Wing Commander? The STU I detailed to monitor Lady Attenasio and her servant has just been founddrugged. My people are currently entering the psychology laboratory. They're . . ." Wheeler glanced away. "What? All right." When she looked up again, she announced in a brittle voice, "They're gone, Wing Commander."
"Rot it!" Skyla smacked the command chair back with a knotted fist. "Seal every section. I don't care if it means people go hungry, miss getting to their duty on time, or what. I want Ily and Arta found!"
"Yes, ma'am! "
Skyla placed a hand to her face and squeezed her temples. Think, Skyla. Where would they have gone? Obviously to Andray Sornsen, but what could he have told them? With his clearance, where would he have taken them?
Anywhere in the complex.
In the background, the wail of sirens could be heard. Wheeler was bent over, apparently talking to Delshay. Kaylla kept track from the other monitor when she wasn't glancing away to give orders.
Skyla turned to Rysta who was studying the developments from the command chair, eyes bright and thoughtful. "We'll need to keep an open link on the way in. Can you get us in fast? "
Rysta made a sour face. ' ''We're Regans, Wing Commander, not silly Sassans. You've got the best in the Regan military design here." She slapped the command chair. "Tell us what you need."
Chrysla placed a hand on Skyla's arm. "And let's not forget a medical unit for Mac when we get there - "
Skyla turned her attention to the monitor again. "Itreata Insystem, we're coming in hot. Prepare for our arrival." Rysta bent to one of her comms, ordering, "All hands,
prepare for high g deceleration. Repeat, prepare for forty gravities, people.
Stow all the loose stuff and batten down the hatches."
A constant chatter filled the rooms of the Seddi warren. Kaylla rubbed her temples as she stared at a schematic of the entire complex. From outside, one saw a moderately busy moon, the shadowed far side studded with installations.
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