Games of Command

by Linnea Sinclair

  “Here they come again,” Sass warned.

  Kel-Paten knew that. He watched them even as he talked to Serafino and, as always, kept Sass in his line of sight. He quickly brought up three evasive-action patterns, chose two, and then realized neither would work. The fighters weren’t moving in to attack. They were moving in to suicide—and at an unbelievable rate of speed. They were already too close to use the seekers.

  “Serafino! I need aft shields at max.” Even as Kel-Paten shouted the command, he rerouted the power grid. “They’re going to ram us.”

  “Shit.” That was Sass. “Eden, grab the furzels, strap in. Hang on!”

  “No,” Serafino shouted back. “I can take us into jump now!”

  “There’s no gate here,” Sass argued before Kel-Paten could state the same concern.

  “Nasyry don’t use them. And I’m nas garra. A pilot guide, remember?”

  “Jace.” Fynn sounded angry and scared.

  “I know what went wrong last time, Eden. Kel-Paten, give me the con.”

  Kel-Paten had no choice. Blind jump or death. “You damned well better know what went wrong last time,” he said, shunting the command codes to navigation. He subverted all the fail-safes and engaged the hyperspace engines. The Traveler shuddered violently, as if from the center outward.

  “I never make the same mistake twice. Spike out, Kel-Paten,” Serafino advised. “Thirty seconds to jump.”

  “Forty-five seconds to impact,” Kel-Paten answered back. He withdrew the feeds in his wrist and reached for Sass’s hand. But she was already reaching for his. The fighters were closing fast.

  Alarms blared on the Traveler’s bridge, set off by the incoming fighters and the hyperspace engines being pushed beyond specs and capacity.

  Kel-Paten tightened his grip on Sass’s hand and felt the first twinge of disorientation.

  The Traveler jumped.

  The starfield outside the bridge viewports disappeared, replaced by a blackness streaked with colors. The shuddering stopped, hyperspace engines dropping into sync. Incoming alarms fell silent.

  “Hot damn,” Serafino said. “I actually did it.” Then he slumped forward in his chair, his arms hanging limp at his sides.

  Kel-Paten swiveled his chair around at the sound of footsteps coming down the short corridor leading to the bridge and watched Sass approach. To say she looked tired was an understatement. She looked exhausted. Barring another crisis, he would order her off duty as soon as he heard her report on Serafino’s condition. A ship in the sterility of jumpspace needed minimal human attention.

  “Don’t scowl, Kel-Paten.” She stepped through the hatchway. “Eden has him sedated. Tank and Reilly are perched on his chest like two furry med-broches. He’ll make it.”

  He assumed as much. If Serafino was at death’s door, he would have been called to sick bay a half hour ago. “I should have her sedate you next. You’re off duty as of right now.”

  “Lady Sass thanks you and will take a nap,” she said, settling into her seat at the copilot’s console. “But Captain Sebastian has too many things to worry about.” She cocked her head. “Don’t you want to know what happened in the outpost?”

  He’d figured her delay in returning from sick bay was because she was chatting with Fynn—something that would have very much worried him two weeks ago. He did wonder, however, if Sass had told the CMO about what happened on the Windblade. How would the CMO—whose determinations could justify filing a Section 46 on an officer—view his role as Sass’s lover?

  “You’re scowling again.”

  He reached toward her, curling the fingers of his right hand into hers. His left was spiked in to the ship through thin cables trailing from the armrest. Her hand was warm and reassuring, even through his gloves. It still amazed him how willingly she touched him when he was under full ’cybe power. “Tell me about the outpost.”

  “They ran into ’Fino’s sister, who not only cut off all his hair but decided to slice up his body with surgical lasers. All because Eden had rigged that implant in his head so she was the only one who could remove it.”

  “The implant that shut off his telepathy.”

  “And sent him instructions from PsyServ and recorded everything he did so that PsyServ could retrieve it later.”

  “Was his sister a simulation, like Zanorian?” He still played with hypotheses in regard to what had happened on the raft.

  Sass shook her head. “Eden said her aura showed she was real-time. She’s Bianca Kel-Rea. Recognize the name?”

  He ran it through his memory banks. “An Officer Galen Kel-Rea was an evaluator on a PsyServ training project fourteen years ago. The Vax transported the team to their meet-point on Fendantun. That’s the only reference I have for a Kel-Rea. Other than that he was a pompous bastard.”

  “That pompous bastard married Serafino’s sister shortly after you met him, brought her under the influence of these Ved creatures, and together they set out to control Serafino—one of the few rogue Nasyry around—for PsyServ. They twisted your transporting Kel-Rea on that mission to you being the match-maker who put them together so that PsyServ could pretend to hold Bianca hostage. It was close enough to the truth—Kel-Rea was on the Vax and Bianca was part of PsyServ—that it registered as true to ’Fino. He underwent the surgery believing he was saving his sister’s life, when in fact she didn’t care if he lived or died. She’s an oullum; she hates all telepaths. And, yes, Officer Kel-Rea has an implant too. That’s how PsyServ used—or misused—the Intergalactic Psychic Concordance and Protection Statutes. The high suicide rate they quoted for telepaths as proof that the talent drove them insane was a ploy. The suicides were due to failed implants. Telepathy itself is completely benign.”

  He nodded, seeing the facts fall into place. “But telepaths sense the Ved. So restricting those talents is the only way the Ved and PsyServ can ensure their own survival.”

  “Brilliant deduction. No wonder I love you.”

  He squeezed her fingers, because her words of affection tended to make his own catch in his throat. It was all too new, too tenuous. And he’d wanted her so very badly for so very long.

  “Did Dr. Fynn have any explanation why I can hear Tank?” he asked when he found his voice again.

  “The furzels were injured in the outpost. That’s something else I need to tell you. To heal them, ’Fino and Eden took them into Novalis—the place, not his ship. The furzels became stronger. ’Fino told Eden he thought they accessed the old knowledge, so maybe their telepathic range expanded too. That’s how Tank was able to transport me off the Windblade and back to the forest after the transbeam failed. And how Reilly brought Jace to this ship. They weren’t capable of anything like that before.”

  The Windblade. When he closed his eyes he could still see the ship’s battered image on the scanner. Could still see the curl of smoke, the harsh glow of flames.

  “I couldn’t get a lock on you,” Kel-Paten rasped. “You don’t know how—”

  “It’s okay.” She leaned forward and brushed her lips over his.

  It wasn’t. He had failed her—something else he’d never forget. He cleared his throat. “Back to Serafino’s implant. You told me on HV-One it contains proof of PsyServ activity. Now we know it has Ved activity as well. If that’s intact—”

  “Eden says it is.”

  “—they’re going to want it. Is he functional enough to give us a list of agents controlled by the Ved?”

  “He will be, in a little while.” Her fingers tightened around his. “Branden, what we know will tear the Triad apart. It could well end the Alliance, since PsyServ was involved in the treaty negotiations. The U-Cees will balk at what they see as psi-manipulation.”

  Those issues had hovered in the back of his mind ever since he saw the guard at the outpost with a Zonn-X, and he told her that.

  “If the treaty fails, we could be enemies again,” she said.

  “Never.” He caressed her fingers with his thumb. “I know th
e Triad. Once our ministers realize what’s happened, they will immediately act. I promise you. The Alliance will stand.”

  “But just in case…” She sucked in a breath. “I have no authority to make this offer. But I need you to know that you, your crew, and the Vaxxar are welcome on my side of the Zone and as part of our Fleet.”

  His thumb stilled. She was talking as if another war was a certainty and the Triad was in the wrong. “My existence has been far from perfect,” he said slowly, “but one thing I’ve never regretted is serving the Triad as an officer. It is who and what I am. I would fail in my duties if I let the actions of a small faction in PsyServ alter that.”

  “The Faction may not be that small. They’ve been involved with PsyServ for over two decades.”

  “PsyServ is not the Triad. Our code of honor is strong. There could be a few rough spots when we get back, but then everything will proceed as before. Trust me.”

  “You’re the only one I trust,” she said. “And I hope you’re right.”

  “I am.” He brought her fingers to his lips, brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “Now. I’m ordering Captain Sebastian off duty. No arguments. I have a randomizer search program running, gathering jumpgate fixes. If Serafino wakes and can help, fine. But if he doesn’t, I can still get us home in about two hours.”

  Standing, she pulled her hand out of his. “If you get bored being brilliant, you know where to find me. Cabin two, starboard side.”

  He watched her leave, indulging himself with the sway of her hips, and then turned back to his calculations. The program already defined three strong possibilities for gate exits. If he concentrated on those for the next fifteen minutes, he might just find himself not only bored but with forty-five minutes to spare before he had to be back on the bridge.

  He did it in twelve.

  “Five minutes to gate perimeter,” Kel-Paten said, wishing it was Sass sitting in the copilot’s seat and not Serafino. But even though he felt sure his calculations for the Tygaris gate were flawless, their entry into jumpspace was at Serafino’s hands. If something went wrong on exit, he wanted those same hands in the best position to get them out.

  “Five minutes,” Serafino echoed. “Looks good. Feel free to drop me off at the casinos, come back in a few days. I should have at least a sweet million credits by then. I really need to upgrade this ship, now that I have her back.”

  Sass’s light laughter from the nav station made him smile. Actually, he’d had a difficult time keeping a silly, idiotic grin from his face ever since he left her cabin ten minutes before. The woman was amazing. Wonderful. Incredible. And he was finally taking her to Tygaris.

  Well, almost. First they had to get Serafino safely ensconced on a Triad Fleet ship and—according to Dr. Fynn—back in sick bay for at least another three hours. Which was also why he chose the Tygaris gate from those the randomizer search had offered. This was Captain Ralland Kel-Tyra’s sector.

  “And,” Serafino drawled, glancing over his shoulder to where Fynn was seated next to Sass, “Doc Eden and I have to do some very special jewelry shopping. So make that a sweet two million.”

  “I’m glad to know you’re willing to spend as much on me as you are on your ship,” Eden retorted with a laugh.

  “Sweetling!”

  JaceFriend looooves EdenFriend. Tank was on the bridge, probably near the nav station. BrandenFriend looooves Mommy!

  “Two minutes,” Kel-Paten said over the din. “Doctor, secure the furzels, in case we hit any problems on exit.”

  “Aye, sir,” Fynn answered. “I have them.”

  “We’re going to exit weapons hot—I don’t know who those PsyServ fighters might have talked to by now. But this ship will broadcast my personal ID. The Dalkerris or any one of Captain Kel-Tyra’s fleet will recognize that immediately. That doesn’t mean there won’t be confusion. But that does mean I do all the talking until I give the order otherwise.”

  “One minute and it’s still sweet,” Serafino said. “Damn, but I’m good.”

  “Have a clear fix,” Kel-Paten announced, tripping codes in his mind as the ship edged toward the gate. “Locking fix. We have a lock. Integrating.”

  The Traveler shimmied slightly.

  “Not to worry.” Serafino made adjustments. “Disconnecting hyperspace engine.”

  “Deep-space sensors online. Scanners on,” Sass announced. “We have live data.”

  “Sublights coming on in three, two…” Serafino tapped at his console. “We’re on sublight.”

  “Confirming position,” Sass said. There was a moment of silence. “Position confirmed. Tygaris jumpgate.”

  Through the viewport, the first twinkle of the starfield glistened in the vanishing color-streaked haze of jumpspace.

  “Confirming with Tygaris jumpgate,” Kel-Paten said, monitoring sublights, scanners, sensors, life support. And Sass. He could still feel the slick heat of her skin against his as he opened the Traveler’s communications ports. He needed to establish contact with the Triad quickly. He’d just come through a jumpgate in a ship on the Triad’s known-enemy list, weapons showing hot.

  He sent out a sequence of codes that every computer in the Triad would immediately acknowledge far more quickly than any spoken identification. Some trock-brained ensign might not remember his face, his name, but no Triad computer would permit its system to fire a weapon on a ship broadcasting Admiral Branden Kel-Paten’s personal codes.

  But a PsyServ ship might.

  So he intended to obliterate anything that fired on them. He had two seekers left.

  He saw the huntership just as Sass did. “Triad huntership, diamond class, forty minutes out,” she said, relaying coordinates.

  Diamond class. He had the coordinates before she did. He knew the ship well. Very well. Thank you, sweet gods.

  He opened the voice comm and didn’t even try to keep the smile off his face. “Dalkerris, this is Admiral Branden Kel-Paten. Put me through to Captain Kel-Tyra, priority one.”

  The wait was less than three minutes. He didn’t know if Rall was asleep or in a meeting or simply filling his coffee cup in the wardroom. But when the visual link came on, it was Ralland’s typically messy office—stacks of files, a discarded jacket, a holo-album, a racquetlob helmet—in the background. And Rall, uniform shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. Three diamond stars sat crookedly over his breast pocket.

  “Admiral Kel-Paten.” Ralland Kel-Tyra sat ramrod straight in his chair. “May I say it’s very good to see you, sir. I—we were worried.”

  “You should know better than to worry about me, Rall.” Kel-Paten leaned back. “You’re among friends. You can drop rank.”

  Kel-Tyra’s shoulders relaxed. He crossed his arms on top of his desk, his lean face creased with concern. “What in hell happened?” His gaze darted, taking in the rest of the bridge. “Captain Sebastian. Serafino.” That rated a quirked eyebrow. “And…ma’am, I apologize, but I don’t know you. Doctor, I assume?”

  Fynn wore a blue med coat. “Eden Fynn, CMO on the Vaxxar, Captain. No reason you should know me. You look far too healthy.”

  “Dr. Fynn. Of course.” Kel-Tyra nodded, then looked back at Kel-Paten. “The old man’s planning your funeral arrangements. You have no idea how godsdamned glad I am to see you, Branden.”

  “The feeling is mutual, Rall. We’ll be alongside in thirty-one minutes, seventeen seconds. Would you be so kind as to provide a secure docking port? And I do mean secure. This is priority one. The Illithians are not our only problem.”

  “I want Serafino and Eden to stay on the Traveler for now,” Sass said, fiddling with the clasp on Kel-Paten’s insignia. They had docked without incident at an airlock on the command tower, two decks down from the bridge on the Dalkerris’s port side, clamps locking on with a clang that reverberated through the Traveler. Serafino and Kel-Paten were working the shutdown checklist on the command console. Through the viewport, the hatchway tube’s lights rotated red. Air pressure had yet to eq
ualize in the extended rampway.

  Sass pushed out of her seat at navigation. “Here.” She handed the insignia to Kel-Paten, who turned to her with a questioning frown. “Let’s not complicate matters for poor Ralland Kel-Tyra. He’s had enough to worry about without wondering why I’m wearing that.”

  “Actually, no, he wouldn’t wonder at all,” Kel-Paten said softly, with a quick glance at Serafino. But he took the gold and diamond stars and slipped them into his pocket.

  Serafino turned. “Sending me back to sick bay?”

  “Eden wants you there,” Sass answered. “It would be embarrassing to our cause to have you pass out cold in Kel-Tyra’s ready room.”

  “Eden just wants me naked,” Serafino replied, grinning. He ducked as a lightpen sailed past his head and clanked against the viewport. “And that’s exactly how I want her. But, honestly, Sass. I’m fine.” He shoved himself out of the seat. “And I think if Rowdy Rall hears it from my own—”

  Serafino’s legs buckled. Kel-Paten caught him under the armpits, then lowered him back to the chair.

  “This is embarrassing,” Serafino rasped as Eden waved her medicorder in his face.

  “The things you do to get my CMO’s attention.” Kel-Paten stepped toward Sass. “Doctor, can you get him to sick bay or do you need me to carry him?”

  “I’ll manage,” Eden and Serafino said in unison.

  “I’m sure you will,” Kel-Paten put in smoothly as Sass chuckled. “Sebastian?” He looked down at her.

  “Kel-Paten.” She caught a sparkle in his eyes. He’d powered down. A good sign, she thought, as they headed down the corridor for the airlock. A very good sign. This might not be the Vax, but they were home. They were safe.

  Mommy! Mommy! Tank go with!

  She picked him up. “Sweet baby,” she started. She was sure Kel-Tyra wouldn’t appreciate—or understand—a fidget in his ready room. But she owed her life to the furry creature. And she hadn’t had time to spend with him with all that happened. What little free time she’d had in jump, she and Kel-Paten spent exploring each other’s bodies, making incredible love.