Enigma

by C. F. Bentley

  The constant drip and hum of machines annoyed her. She endured their presence as she’d endured so much.

  Ah, the breathing of her constant guard in the corner. A quick peek revealed Lieutenant David. He paged through a reader, absorbing the information with a smile. She allowed her eyes to flutter open as if slowly reviving from slumber.

  The machines responded with increased humming and beeping. They recorded her wakefulness when she deemed it safe. A little reprogramming and she’d make them record her presence when she chose to absent herself. She never knew when she needed time to escape.

  “The one who saved me?” she whispered. Her voice came out a raw croak.

  Lieutenant David jumped to bring her water. She sipped from the bulb cautiously. Other captors had slipped truth drugs into simple sustenance. But then if these humans wanted to force her to reveal information they could include the serums in the cocktail of things dripping into her veins.

  The first taste of water revealed nothing more noxious than the faint citrus taste added at the recycling plant. She drank again, more deeply.

  And coughed most of it back up as her stomach rebelled.

  Lieutenant David looked panicked. He pressed a summoning button frantically. “My apologies, Miss Adrial. I am not allowed to slap your back to help clear your throat. I’m sorry. Doc Halliday fears your bones are too fragile for rough treatment. I’m sorry. I dare not touch you to assist in any way. I’m sorry.”

  Adrial swallowed her smile along with some life-giving air. Her guard was half in love with her. Not the first time. She knew how to use him now to find the next key in her search. She’d delayed too long. She must continue her quest immediately.

  The Messengers of the Gods had decreed.

  Leave no trace of your passing.

  Gently she placed her hand upon his to still his repeated summons. “The nurse will come in good time. Now tell me of the one who rescued me from the wreckage. Such a strange being with eight limbs, pincers instead of hands, able to hold air inside himself while traversing vacuum. Tell me how he brought me here to your safekeeping.”

  Sissy sat heavily in the chair at Jake’s right, across from Admiral Marella. All her hopes for relief from the press of the station against her senses swirled away.

  The dogs sat silently at attention on either side of her. Monster edged beneath the table a bit, as if ready to grab the admiral’s leg in his strong jaws to keep her in place.

  “We’re close to an agreement on the treaty.” She didn’t believe her own words.

  “If you say so.” The admiral leaned back. Her gaze drifted to Jake with affection. She looked feral and cunning.

  Sissy stiffened, every hair on her body standing on end, like Cat when confronted with something new and scary. She knew in that instant that Jake and the admiral had been lovers. Jealousy flared along her spine, hot and explosive. She needed to lash out, wipe the satisfied smirk off the woman’s face, as she wished she’d slapped Lady Jancee.

  Remember your manners, her mother’s voice said sharply in her memory.

  Sissy almost looked around for the ghostly presence. Instead she took in a deep breath and mastered the emotions warring within her.

  “And if I brought Lord Lukan to the pen within the hour, what excuse would you make to keep me away from this new planet?”

  She heard Jake draw in a sharp breath that whistled lightly between his teeth. His fists clenched atop the table. The thin-bladed knife he wore inside his sleeve stood clearly outlined beneath the cloth of his black uniform.

  Admiral Marella pushed her chair back and stood. Her civilian trousers and jacket fell neatly into place without a wrinkle. Dog came alert, ears lifted, teeth bared, a low rumble in his chest.

  Composed and haughty, the admiral left the room, not once looking back over her shoulder. As the door swished shut behind her, she spoke. “Jake, my office, ten minutes. Come alone.”

  “That is one person you don’t want as an enemy, Sissy,” Jake said quietly. “She’s dangerous.” He captured her hand with his own, squeezing it to emphasize his warning.

  “More dangerous than you?” Sissy asked, returning the grip on his hand. She tried to hide her own fear. Whether fear of the admiral or fear at her own audacity she didn’t know.

  Jake gave out a short laugh, more a release of tension than true humor. “Not at the moment.” He leaned back, released her and placed both of his hands behind his head. Far away from touching distance. “So what brings you to my conference room, Laudae Sissy?”

  His relaxed pose didn’t fool her. She’d seen him play this act too many times just before leaping into action with weapons flying and teeth bared. The dogs were less subtle and thus slightly less dangerous.

  “I . . . I . . .” Words deserted her. Why had she come? “What exactly does hyperspace do to a body that a pregnant woman shouldn’t travel?”

  “Huh?” He snapped forward, hands once more on the table, jaw hanging open. “You aren’t . . .”

  “No, I am not.” She should be insulted. He knew her. Knew her qualms about adopting the Temple attitude toward sex outside of a committed marriage. On the other hand, the slight was trivial compared to the joy in finding something, anything, that could surprise Jake.

  “I ask on behalf of Lady Jancee. She really needs to go home, be among familiar people, in familiar surroundings.”

  So did Sissy. But she didn’t have that luxury.

  Jake exhaled deeply and lost a lot of his puffy indignation. “I’ll ask. The ship’s surgeon who came in with Pammy has more experience with that sort of thing than I do. I can’t imagine Spacer females grounding themselves for a small thing like pregnancy. Some of them claim to have lived their entire lives aboard ship, never having set foot dirtside. A point of pride with them.”

  “Please do.” She bowed her head shyly. “Would you mind if I stayed here a bit when you go to meet Admiral Marella?” At the moment, the vibrations of only a single power plant penetrated her defenses. She caught its rhythm, allowed her body to breathe with it. Her heart beat a nice counterpoint.

  Almost music. Almost synchronization.

  “Stay as long as you want. But I’m not going to Pammy’s office. I’m not at her beck and call anymore. Besides, I have too much to do. How about I bring some of my detail work in here. You can help me sort through graphs and accounting sheets. You’re better at seeing patterns than I am.” He yawned and stretched. “Some lunch would be nice too.”

  Sissy settled more comfortably in her chair. “Just like back on Harmony, where you taught me how to read memo doublespeak.”

  “But you were the one who found the pattern of repeated names on troop casualty rosters that Gregor faked in order to get reassignments where he wanted.”

  “We work well together, Jake.” She dared touch his hand.

  He turned his palm upward and clasped hers. Warmth and well-being spread through her faster than the fine wines Lord Lukan served at formal dinners. For the length of one hundred heartbeats she pretended they had the right to touch each other.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  A step sounded outside Adrial’s door. She put aside her reader and rested her head limply against the pile of pillows behind her neck and back. As the frosted bio-plastic swooshed open, she composed her face into resigned endurance.

  “Are you in pain, Adrial?” Doc Halliday asked. She hastened to the array of machines that pumped and dripped, measured and assessed.

  “No more than any other time,” Adrial sighed. “I think I should sleep now.” Surreptitiously she flipped the document on her reader to show a series of meditations written by a High Priest of Harmony two hundred years ago.

  “Not just yet. We need to talk.” Doc Halliday pulled a stool over to the bedside and planted herself on it as if she intended to grow roots.

  A stimulant hit Adrial’s veins and forced her eyes open and her mind spinning. The machines reflected her response.

  Too late to control them.r />
  Doc Halliday looked behind and above Adrial to the screens filled with numbers. “Good. Your heart rate and respiration are closer to normal now. You need to breathe deeper, force oxygen into your system to promote healing.”

  As if Adrial didn’t know that already, hadn’t sped her recovery with a series of meditations that opened the flow of air throughout her body.

  “I see you’ve been using the ultrasound to hasten the bone mending,” the physician continued casually. Almost too casually.

  “A marvelous device,” Adrial replied weakly. She tried to figure out from her posture and the size of her pupils what the older woman wanted.

  She gave nothing away. Perhaps the doctor had learned control in the same school Adrial had.

  Instantly she grew wary.

  “What do you know about the Squid People who piloted the ship that brought you here?”

  “Squid People?” Adrial feigned ignorance.

  “Were you a stowaway that you never saw your pilots?” The doctor returned question for question. A good interrogator.

  “I saw them. I did not know the term Squid.” The stimulant kept pushing the truth out of Adrial. She could hedge but not lie. There must have been something else in that drug cocktail.

  “So why did you choose their vessel, and what do you know about them?”

  “They were coming here. I took passage away from where I was.”

  “And . . . ?”

  “And they sought spiritual peace with The One who collects the lost and gives them purpose. I seek the same thing. I found Laudae Sissy. Do you think I could meet her?”

  “Maybe. First we need to talk about your condition, Adrial.”

  “What is wrong?” she asked in alarm. Surely she would have found something drastically out of place during her meditations.

  “Many things. Our scans indicate that you have been abused and raped many times.”

  Adrial relaxed. “Oh, that.”

  “Yes, that. We need to know who did this to you, to prevent them from continuing their crimes.”

  “It is no crime for the Law to torture their prisoners,” she said quietly.

  Doc Halliday stiffened and snorted in disgust. “That is a heinous crime on all the planets and stations I’ve visited. No one has that right, especially not the Law, who are pledged to protect and serve.”

  “The Law have lost the sacred rituals,” Adrial replied. “The temples are profaned. They must be cleansed so that the rituals may be made sacred again.”

  “What temples? Which religion?”

  “The Messengers of the Gods can’t find the temples. Without a temple, the angels cannot touch their people and make them prosperous and plentiful.” With that, Adrial chose to fall into unconsciousness, as if speaking so many words in a row exhausted the stimulant and left her weaker than ever.

  Two days later Jake relaxed into his old black uniform from his days on Harmony. The sturdy cloth with gel armor packs that could inflate in any number of strategic places molded to his body like a second skin, flowing with each movement and ample ease to stretch into awkward positions without resistance.

  He stuffed weapons, handhelds, extra comms, minor tools, and electronic keys into the multitude of pockets on his thighs, arms, and chest. Even a few secret ones on his back. CSS fatigues weren’t nearly so practical or comfortable.

  Class As from either military were a pain in the neck.

  “General Jake?” Mara’s voice came over his private comm.

  “Devlin here,” he replied, wondering if he really needed a sixth throwing star. Better make it seven and keep the divine symmetry.

  “Ambassador Telvino requests your presence in the diplomatic conference room, ASAP.” She paused and cleared her throat. “Sir, what does ASAP mean?”

  “It means get my ass down there ten minutes ago.” He headed for the door. He was glad he’d found his old major’s oak-leaf insignia for her, even though the governments hadn’t confirmed her as his first officer or the promotion he requested for her. He had to drag out old battlefield promotion traditions to justify it to the ambassadors.

  “I don’t understand the origin of the word.”

  “An acronym. As Soon As Possible.” Which meant he could legitimately override the trams to make sure one awaited him at the hub, and he could increase the speed to max. That little privilege saved him many minutes in waiting time as he moved about the station.

  Jake almost ran into a Harmony corporal as he stepped off the tram and bounced toward the lift.

  “Excuse me, sir. Laudae Sissy requested I remind you of your meeting in the comms wing tonight.” With a formal bow he beamed a message from his comm to Jake’s with a touch of his wrist. Then he remembered to salute before hurrying off to catch the tram Jake had just debarked.

  “Guess I’m not the only one with too much to do and too many people demanding my time.” He decided to enter the diplomatic conference room with more dignity than sliding down the circular staircase. He used the time on the lift mechanism to answer five messages that had piled up while he was en route. Two from Sissy, one each from the ambassadors, and a fifth from Doc Halliday. The last one had nothing to do with the meeting and wasn’t urgent. He ignored her polite request to autopsy the Squid People in the crashed spaceship. That could wait.

  Apparently the meeting couldn’t.

  “General Devlin,” Sissy said from behind her formal veil and all-concealing robes before Jake had set half a foot inside the conference room. “Please explain in detail to Ambassador Lord Lukan the state of the war with the Maril. He does not comprehend the urgency in signing a treaty of alliance and mutual defense with the CSS.”

  Jake took a deep breath, noting that Lukan’s son Garrin sat beside him, bristling with indignation. The young man, barely into his twenties, took offense at everything that involved contact outside Harmony. Telvino had a Marine lieutenant beside him, taking notes and accessing detailed records of previous meetings. Sissy had all six of her girls and two dogs arrayed about the room, observing the actions from every angle.

  Pammy was notable by her absence.

  “Map, recent battles with Maril and adjacent star systems,” Jake called to the computer system.

  “Authorization code and retinal scan required,” the androgynous voice asked firmly but politely.

  Alternately cursing the lengthy procedure to pry information from the machine and admiring the security, he went through the ritual, making sure he took no shortcuts. Sissy had set a formal tone. He intended to play along.

  If he’d had the spectacles, he bet the computer would have acknowledged his right to the information without question.

  Dozens of pinpoints of light flashed into the air at the end of the table to fill one third of the large room. Tiny letters appeared beneath the purple and blue lights, naming the star systems that belonged to Harmony and to the CSS. Green lights appeared around the edges, frontier worlds that traded with the CSS but did not belong to the Confederation. Yellow lights marked pirate worlds, the ones that had no affiliation and no respect for the laws of any of their “trading partners.”

  Jake counted twenty-two of the latter and whistled through his teeth. Last time he’d checked, there had been thirty-five.

  Last, the Marilon Empire was revealed as a cluster of red that spread out and out again. They’d absorbed the twelve pirate worlds and seven of the frontier outposts. They surrounded Harmony’s grouping of seven purple lights, leaving only a narrow corridor of protected access.

  Telvino gasped as he too recognized the significance in the number of changes.

  “Explain this?” Lord Lukan asked. He rose and walked around the map, peering at colors and distances with curiosity.

  Sissy reached out to the Harmonite Empire as if she could touch her home. Then her hand dropped abruptly back into her lap in great disappointment.

  Jake explained the color coding. Lukan nodded.

  “Meaningless.” Garrin spat. “Harmony i
s safe. We know how to defend our borders. We have never needed help before. We do not need it now.”

  “Sir, if you will be patient a bit longer, I think you will begin to see what is happening on a broader scale.” Jake nearly bit his tongue in two keeping himself from barking at the man as if he were the rawest recruit with a subpar IQ.

  “Map, show position of Labyrinthe Stations,” Sissy chimed in. Seven black bars appeared in seemingly random positions. “And the CSS military space stations.” Another dozen black Xs appeared.

  “Map, on the worlds most recently acquired by the Maril, show those absorbed into the empire and those wiped clean of inhabitants,” Jake added, more intent on his own agenda.

  Sissy gasped as five worlds blinked rapidly while dozens of others pulsed more slowly.

  “Gentlemen, I have it on good authority that from the worlds the Maril have absorbed, they recruit troops to fill their expanded fleet,” Jake said. His gut twisted a little at the thought of having to fight his own kind. “They have begun an intensive crossbreeding program with humans to insure loyalty of the next generation as well. Map, highlight recent battle activity.”

  Tiny pinpoints of light darted around the three outermost systems belonging to Harmony. Dozens more showed around the CSS space stations and the rim worlds, both in peaceful trade and pirate status.

  “They . . . they’re closing in on Harmony V, III, and II,” Garrin gasped, half standing. He paled and clutched the table for balance. “Do we have enough troops to defend all three at once?” He looked at his father with bleak hope.

  Lukan shook his head.

  “Don’t you see the pattern of occupation?” Sissy asked.

  “What?” Jake whirled to face her, fully aware that she of all people would find a pattern where the most brilliant of strategists couldn’t.

  “The cleansed worlds . . . they . . . they are equally spaced among the Maril worlds. It’s as if each one is the center of a grouping of equal numbers of systems.”