gaian consortium 03 - the gaia gambit

by Pope, Christine

  It had all been for nothing. She had compromised her honor, and risked the lives of her crew, for a lie. Slowly she reached up and unclipped the stars from the collar of her uniform, then laid them on the shining stainless steel surface of Admiral Horner’s desk. She did not bother to speak. What, at this juncture, could she possibly say? His cold-eyed stare told her without words how much he condemned her…and how lucky she was that she would only suffer the disgrace of a dishonorable discharge, and not a full court-martial and life imprisonment in the GDF brig on Europa.

  Still silent, she turned and left the admiral’s office. She knew she would never return.

  * * *

  Rast entered Admiral sen Trannick’s chambers and wondered what the reward for his success might be — reassignment to his home world’s system defense fleet, or perhaps even a promotion to commodore and his own regional command. One could never be sure, when carrying out a wager so successfully, but the admiral had been known to be generous when someone pleased him.

  Unlike the Gaians, the Stacian commanders maintained their offices shipboard, and not on a space station or moon base. Also unlike the Gaians, those of high rank generally had quarters that would be considered sybaritic by most impartial observers. Admiral sen Trannick’s chambers were no exception; tapestries of Iradian silk covered the walls, and a rug with intricate but muted patterns cushioned the floor. Carved stone jars holding the ubiquitous merh that scented Stacian clothing and hair ointments were placed around the room to cover up the synthetic odors that always seemed to emanate from the great starships’ ventilation systems.

  The admiral rose from his desk as Rast entered, the older man’s scarred face cracked in a great smile. “Ah, sen Drenthan. Quite the success!”

  That it had been. If only he had made the bargain for two nights instead of one. All during the journey here he’d ached to touch Lira Jannholm again, to bury himself in her. What would it have been like to lie down with her and know that she still would be there in the morning, instead of fleeing at her earliest opportunity?

  “Thank you, Excellency,” Rast said. “Truly, I was a little surprised Captain Jannholm even agreed, but you must have known more of her character than I guessed.”

  “Oh, that.” The admiral shrugged. “An amusing ploy, but not the real story.”

  “Oh?” Rast didn’t much like the sound of that. After all, his commanding officer had seemed fairly invested in suborning Lira Jannholm, in getting Rast a taste of a human female.

  About that, the admiral had been right. Lira did taste delicious.

  Rast asked, his voice somewhat sharper than he had intended, “And what is the real story?”

  The familiar rapacious glint returned to Admiral sen Trannick’s eyes. “Someone reported her actions to her commanding officer. They recalled her immediately to base…and so I sent in a squad of Trenth-class cruisers to attack the outpost on Chlorae II. The arriving colonists had a nasty surprise waiting for them, I’m afraid.”

  Over the years Rast had learned to think before he spoke, and so luckily he did not say what first sprang to mind — that the admiral’s actions were a clear contravention of the Eridani treaty, and would lead to bitter and protracted reprisals from the Gaian government. He also did not much like the thought of Stacian ships gunning down unprotected civilians and scientists. It was one thing to face your equals in battle, but lying in wait to shoot miners and their families out of the sky was quite another.

  Beyond that, though, he thought of Lira. If she had been recalled, then she must have faced some sort of punishment. The Gaians had no more tolerance for traitors than his own people did. Was she now sitting in a brig, awaiting court-martial? Had they executed her? His knowledge of Gaian methods of punishment was fuzzy at best. Had their roles been reversed, he would have been asked to make the cuts of sacrifice on his wrists and offer his life as compensation for the shame he had brought on the fleet, on Stacia itself. But he did not think that was the Gaian way.

  He cleared his throat. “And what of Captain Jannholm?”

  A shrewd copper-hued glance from beneath the admiral’s heavy brows. “Made an impression, did she?”

  Since he knew showing any concern for Lira’s fate would not meet with a favorable reception, Rast made the one reply he thought was safe. “We made a bargain, Excellency, and she comported herself honorably. It would be unfortunate if the Gaian command didn’t understand that she was trying to act in their best interests.”

  “Well, apparently they didn’t see it that way. Our Intelligence operatives have reported that she was removed from command and discharged from the fleet.”

  Odd that he should feel so relieved by the news of her disgrace…but that’s all it was. Disgrace, and only in the eyes of those too blind to see what she had really done. He knew she possessed more of a sense of honor than most in the Gaian fleet. She might be disgraced, and stripped of her rank, but at least she was alive. Alive, and apparently free to pursue her own fate, whatever that might be.

  “And where is she now?”

  The admiral almost smiled. “No one knows. She left her sector HQ and disappeared. But what does it matter? She’s gone, and Chlorae II is ours. And you, Captain sen Drenthan, are now the commanding officer in charge of the defense force at Syrinara.”

  It was a promotion, and an enviable one. Syrinara was the fifth planet from the sun in the Stacian system, and the first one colonized and terraformed after the Stacians adopted the technology the Eridanis had given them, using it to escape their home world’s harsh conditions. On Syrinara, which had a milder climate and the refreshing novelty of actual oceans, much of the food that supplied Stacia and its fleet was grown. Besides being assigned to Stacia itself, Rast could not think of a more desirable promotion, one that put him in line to move even further up the chain of command.

  “You honor me, Excellency,” Rast said at once. He knew a swift acknowledgment of the honor he had been given was the best way to please the admiral.

  “I thought you’d be happy. So come, share a drink with me and seal the deal. And, Captain — ”

  “Yes, Excellency?”

  “Forget her. She has served her purpose.”

  “Of course,” Rast replied automatically, although he knew it was not quite so simple as that. No, it would be some time before he could completely erase the thought — and feel, and taste — of Lira Jannholm from his mind.

  And at the moment, he wasn’t sure what troubled him more…that he could still taste her on his tongue, or the niggling sense at the back of his mind that the admiral was playing a far larger game than Rast could begin to imagine.

  * * *

  Jupiter’s red eye glared down from the heavens as Lira debarked from the shuttle and made her way through the domes of the Ganymede base.

  What was that old saying?

  Home is the place that where you go, they have to take you in.

  Of course, no one ever said that the people at home had to be exactly enthusiastic about welcoming you back into the fold…

  No one had offered to come and meet her, and she hadn’t asked. She didn’t have much to bring with her anyway — just two suitcases of sleek composite, one of which was only half full. Ships’ captains didn’t have that much in the way of personal belongings, or at least GDF captains didn’t. She’d left her uniforms behind, and her civilian clothing and other personal items made for a meager enough collection. Well, it made traveling that much easier, although being crammed in the economy-class stateroom she had shared with another woman traveling alone brought home more than anything else the realization that she was not a ship’s captain anymore.

  She was no one.

  Everything around her looked more or less the same, and yet subtly different from the last time she had seen it, some five years ago. She supposed it was she who had changed, and not the base on Ganymede.

  The base was a mixture of above-ground domes and miles of subterranean facilities. Because her parents held
high-level positions — her mother a botanist overseeing one of the greenhouse facilities that grew food for the colony, her father on the committee that handled the day-to-day management of the base — they lived in a complex in Dome 3, near the moon’s equator. No one had bothered terraforming Ganymede; it was too far outside the habitable band to make such an endeavor economically feasible, so the atmosphere was a thin trace of various oxygen compounds too toxic to support human life.

  Through the domes the stars still shone, bright pinpricks she could remember gazing at every day of her childhood. They were the spurs that led her outward into the greater galaxy. No staying here on Ganymede or even the Gaian system as a whole — she’d wanted up and out, and as soon as possible. Not much to feel homesick for here, as she’d always had the vague impression that her parents had had children more because it had been expected of them than because they’d actually wanted them. True, they were proud of her acceptance to the university on Eridani at barely sixteen, her expedited track at the naval academy, her early appointment to captain, since those were the sorts of accomplishments that they could trot out at cocktail parties.

  She had a feeling they weren’t quite as proud now.

  Not that she’d gone into any great detail about what had happened, but word had a way of getting around, even with the light-years that separated Gaia’s far-flung colonies and bases. All Lira could hope was that people only knew she’d done something so dreadful she’d been drummed out of the GDF. Tough as she wanted to believe she was, she really didn’t want to explain what she’d been thinking when she shared a bed with a Stacian. She could only imagine the revulsion on the faces of her parents or her old acquaintances and classmates if the whole sordid story ever came out. Beyond her tawdry liaison with Rast sen Drenthan, though, the deaths of the colonists weighed heavily on her, their stilled voices a reproachful murmur at the back of her mind. Yes, she’d only been trying to ensure their safety, but that hardly mattered now.

  Dome 3 consisted mainly of residential units, occasionally broken up by an eating establishment, shop, or pub. Not too many of those, of course. It wouldn’t do to have the populace tempted by too much drink. Just enough to give the semblance of someplace to rest and unwind, although the alcohol served on Ganymede was carefully lowered in potency so it couldn’t cause too much trouble. She still remembered the first time she’d had a glass of undiluted wine at the university on Eridani — she’d barely been able to walk afterward.

  Her parents had a spacious end unit that occupied two levels. As Lira approached the entrance, her steps gradually slowed. Something in her very much wanted to turn and run, to take her meager savings and go someplace where no one had ever heard of Lira Jannholm, disgraced starship captain. But she wouldn’t be that kind of coward. No, she’d face whatever might come next with her head held high. Perhaps she had made a dreadful mistake in going to Rast sen Drenthan, but it had been a mistake born of a desire to ensure the safety of Chlorae II, not for any personal gain. Her intentions had been good.

  And we all know what’s paved with those good intentions, she thought, then shook her head.

  Better to get this over with. She paused at the door, set down one suitcase, then reached out with her free hand to push the buzzer.

  * * *

  He should have been completely satisfied. His new ship, the Tarlentha, was newly commissioned, sleek and elegant and with captain’s quarters that would have pleased a man with far more extravagant tastes than he. The promotion brought with it an extra measure of respect; it was clear the admiral favored Captain sen Drenthan, and his new crew were far more obsequious than his former shipmates, who had tended to be a rowdy bunch. This group ran a tight ship, but Rast had the feeling he would miss the easier companionship on board the Brensa before too much time passed.

  And yet…

  Something about the situation didn’t feel right, didn’t smell right. He’d pondered the situation, in those few rare moments when his time was not occupied by some demand, some new situation to learn from and absorb. For one thing, the political currents he encountered here on Syrinara were far different from those he had dealt with while patrolling the farther reaches of the Stacian Federation. Some days, he thought he was expending more energy on keeping track of whom to curry favor with and who could be safely ignored than on actually running his ship.

  Even so, he had stolen minutes here and there when he could be alone in his quarters, when he could sit and think about how he had gotten here, and the woman who’d been the casualty of his new success. Learning where she had gone proved to be more difficult than he’d thought; after all, he couldn’t make outright inquiries through regular channels. But a man he’d had dealings with years before when securing a few black market items for his parents’ comfort said he might be able to track her down, given enough time, and Rast had to be content with that for now. At least he knew for a fact that she wasn’t dead.

  Given all that, he should have allowed himself to push the matter aside until he had more concrete information as to Lira’s whereabouts. That proved impossible, however. He kept ticking the timing over in his mind, and something about it didn’t seem to add up. Unless Admiral sen Trannick had those five cruisers poised in exactly the right position, they could never have reached the Chlorae system in enough time to intercept and destroy the incoming colonists before they even had a chance to land on the planet’s surface. No, it was almost as if he had known the Valiant would be withdrawn.

  And how was that possible? He would have had to receive some sort of intelligence from within Admiral Horner’s office that Captain Jannholm was about to be discharged from service. Rast was willing to believe many things, but somehow he couldn’t believe that two such sworn enemies would have colluded to make sure the Gaian colony on Chlorae II was destroyed before it had even begun. Such treachery would make Lira Jannholm’s perceived disloyalty pale into nothingness. No, there had to be another explanation.

  It could have been luck — if one believed in such things. Once upon a time he might have said he didn’t, but he’d seen enough over the years to think there had to be some underlying force at work, one that sometimes seemed to have a capricious capacity to play havoc with the plans of sentient beings, or to bring unexpected favor at a roll of the bones. Admiral sen Trannick had had enough inspired guesses and turns of fortune during his career that one could call him lucky.

  Better that — better to think that it was the work of the old gods some still believed in — than to think Stacian and Gaian were working together toward some goal whose motivation he couldn’t begin to guess. Because if that were true, it meant everything he had been told, everything he believed, was a lie.

  * * *

  “And how long do you intend on staying?” Her mother’s tone, brittle in its casualness, told Lira everything she needed to know about her welcome here. Not that she had expected much different.

  She wanted to make an airy comment about staying here on Ganymede indefinitely, of enrolling in some sort of coursework at the moon’s one rather mediocre college, but she didn’t feel quite brave enough for that. For a second or two she didn’t answer, but only concentrated on chewing the mouthful of eggplant strata she had just taken. At least the food was good; some of the best hydroponics setups in Gaian space were located right here on the Jovian base.

  “Not long,” she replied. “I just need to explore some options. In fact, I’ve already had a few offers from independent shippers and charter companies.”

  This was a bare-faced lie. While one might have thought the skills she’d obtained in the navy would be in some demand, no one had come forward to claim them. Blacklists weren’t just for the military. At this point, Lira was fairly certain no one respectable would touch her with a ten-meter cattle prod.

  The tight lines around her mother’s mouth seemed to relax slightly. “That sounds promising.”

  “Oh, it is.”

  They lapsed into a tense little silence. Altho
ugh Lira had expected her father to be here, he was conspicuously absent — a last-minute emergency had called him away, according to her mother. That was possible, but Lira thought it rather more likely that he wasn’t quite ready to face his disgraced daughter, and so manufactured a crisis that would keep him safely away for some hours. And luckily her younger sister and brother were long gone, her sister with the GEC, and her brother a climatologist working on the ongoing Gaian rehabilitation project. At least the human race’s home world wasn’t quite the polluted mess it had been several centuries earlier, but there was still some ways to go before it began to approach even a semblance of its former beauty.

  Her siblings seemed the safest subject to broach, and so she inquired about Janna first, then Liam. Lira guessed her mother knew exactly what red herrings these lines of conversation were, but of course she gave no hint. Marta Jannholm had never been one for confidences, and Lira knew she wasn’t about to start now.

  The conversation lurched this way and that until the food had been consumed. A gleaming mech came to clear away the empty plates. The machine was a new addition; her parents must have been doing better than she thought.

  Glad somebody is, flitted through her mind, and she chided herself for the self-pitying thought. No one had held a gun to her head and demanded that she sleep with Captain sen Drenthan. No, she’d brought that disaster on herself. The Stacian would have to live with his treachery, though. That might be cold comfort, but better than nothing. Although Admiral Horner and everyone around her might think differently, she knew, at bottom, that she had tried to do the right thing.