“Yes, sir,” she said, “but I wanted to let you know that the tunnels were originally excavated by the alien civilization over ten thousand years ago. There are artifacts down there and possibly clues to the puzzle Captain Porter is trying to solve. You’re aware of her work?”
Her father nodded immediately, but the captain shook his head. Admiral Liao hesitated, then said, “Not entirely.”
“You might want to search those tunnels before collapsing them.”
“That would be difficult with the enemy down there,” Liao said dryly.
Tamryn turned her palm upward. “Perhaps a deal needs to be made, after all.”
He scowled at her. “I find it disconcerting that you’re fighting to keep these people alive, people who were responsible for your comrades’ deaths.”
Tamryn sighed. She had been afraid they had been thinking that, even if they hadn’t voiced it until now. “More deaths won’t bring back Wu and Ram and the others. But perhaps we can take the blood of the fallen and use it to fertilize soil so that something valuable can grow.”
Liao shook his head and looked at her father. “I can’t talk to her, Tomas.” His dour expression said he was wondering if he needed to. After all, what was she but some junior officer barely out of the academy? Being her father’s daughter didn’t automatically make her someone worth listening to.
“The intelligence you’ve given is appreciated, Tam,” her father said, “and we should be able to use whatever information we find on Brax as a lever, but you are, I’m afraid, a newly minted lieutenant. You don’t have the experience necessary to be involved in these decisions.” He nodded at her, his expression gentle even if his words stuck in her heart like a dagger. “Dismissed.”
She wanted to argue, and maybe she would have if they had been alone, if they had been father and daughter instead of junior officer and commanding officer, but as long as she wore her uniform, no matter how grimy it was after days on the run, she had to interact with him in that latter capacity.
“Yes, sir,” she said tightly and walked out.
Chapter 28
The Marathon was a big ship, complete with guest quarters for transferring dignitaries and finance ministers around the system. Tamryn was given a room that was spacious by the standards of Frost Station Alpha, complete with a private lavatory and kitchenette. She suspected the assignment had more to do with her father’s influence than anything else. Had she been reporting solely to Admiral Liao, she might have ended up in the brig. Even if he hadn’t said as much, she was certain he suspected her loyalties. The only good thing about Brax’s men retaking the station was that it probably hadn’t come out that she had been seen kissing the enemy. She just hoped that nobody else had been killed over there. Every death would make it that much harder to find peace. If it wasn’t already impossible.
No, she mustn’t think that. She must not give up yet.
While she took a shower, she contemplated a plan of action, one that her father would resent her for, but if she didn’t try, she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself. Even if she was just a junior officer, as he had bluntly pointed out, and treaties and negotiations should be left in the hands of those qualified to do them, she had a reason to care. Nobody who was “qualified” did.
As soon as she had dried off and changed into a fresh uniform that someone had dropped off, she strode to the computer built into the room’s desk and sat down. With the network delay, it would take a while to receive a response, so she couldn’t waste any time in writing her letter. She thought of recording a video but decided she couldn’t be trusted to compose something polished and persuasive if she simply babbled to a camera.
When she logged into her mailbox, she was tempted to peruse the stack of messages that had come in while she had been offline, especially the ones with worried headings from her mother, but she had a mission to accomplish first. She spent over three hours writing a five-page proposal, then sent it off, hoping her computer usage wasn’t being monitored and also hoping that her grandfather wasn’t so busy that he wasn’t checking messages. A part of her was terrified as to what might happen if he wasn’t busy, if he read it and accepted the proposition. It would mean the end of the only career she had ever wanted.
She bit her lip and stared out the porthole, where the icy white rim of Glaciem was just visible in front of the stars. A frigid, barren moon. Even with terraforming, it would never be like her home world of Paradise. If the Glacians were lucky, they might manage to grow a few crops. If not for Makkon, this place would have no draw for her. But Makkon was there, and he was real, and she missed him more than she would have thought possible after the short time they had spent together.
And this went beyond him, and beyond her desires too. It was true that all she had ever wanted was to be an officer, to have a career independent of her family’s influence, but... if she could do more good here, in another capacity, didn’t she owe it to the galaxy to accept that?
Less than two minutes after Tamryn hit the send button, her door chime sounded. She flinched, afraid she was about to receive confirmation that her network usage was being monitored. Had some overly zealous intelligence officer on the bridge kept her message from going out? Had her father already been alerted?
“Come in.” Tamryn shut down the holo display and turned away from the desk.
Her father walked in, and the feeling of dread in her gut doubled. He couldn’t have already read it, but maybe just knowing she had sent it had been enough.
“Sir?” she asked warily.
He sighed as he walked to the bed and sat down. He looked like he wanted to lie down. Before, she had been too concerned about her own fate—and that of the Glacians—to notice the dark circles under his eyes. How long had he been awake, worrying about her? Worrying about what she had gotten herself involved with? She could tell herself that she hadn’t had any choice, but she had requested this duty station months ago, so she couldn’t blame anyone else for her involvement. She had never told her family it had been a request, but they probably knew.
“Liao thinks they brainwashed you,” her father said, rubbing his forehead. “Having been down there to see that hulking man standing next to you, I suspect it’s something else. Either way, he’s right in that you’re not the most reliable source right now.”
“Oh, are we going to jump straight into criticism?” Tamryn asked defensively, mostly because she wanted time to think about what he was saying, about how she wanted to respond to what he was saying. “No I’m-glad-you’re-safe hug first?”
Her father snorted, but stood up. “You’re right. I apologize.”
He walked across the room, and Tamryn stood up, accepting the hug and returning it. She had hugged him briefly in the combat shuttle, but he’d been encased in armor at the time, with twenty soldiers watching on. That tended to subdue one’s emotional outbursts.
“Thanks for coming for me,” she said into his shoulder, blinking back tears she hadn’t known would threaten. Reunion or not, this wasn’t the time for them, not when he had accused her of being an unreliable source.
“When that garbled threat made it back to Paradise, and we saw that man with his hand around your throat.” Her father cleared his throat; his voice sounded thick with emotion, and she felt guilty about making them all worry. “We’ve all been worried. Your mother threatened to shoot me in the foot with that Ancient Earth crossbow in the living room if I didn’t quit everything and come out here personally.”
“Mom is a formidable woman for an accountant.”
“For anyone.”
“True.”
“You have a lot of that in you,” he said, patting the back of her head, then letting her go.
“Even when I’m being an unreliable source?” She couldn’t quite keep from sounding hurt.
Her father sighed and returned to the bed. He leaned his elbows on his knees, threaded his fingers together, and studied them before responding. “Liao isn’t certain we can tr
ust your word in regard to the tunnels and whether or not they have value.”
“I saw them for myself. They have random artifacts stuck into the walls of their dwellings, as if they’re old fossils between the layers of rock. They’re so common that the Glacians think nothing of them. I first saw the artifacts in a lavatory.”
“Hm.”
Tamryn found herself gritting her teeth and forced herself to unclench her jaw. “I understand if you don’t agree with me about what should be done in regard to the Glacians, but everything I told you was true.”
“You didn’t talk much about the man.” He regarded her warily.
For a second, she was tempted to feign ignorance and ask what man.
“I went back and looked at the feed on my combat armor’s camera,” her father said, studying his hands again. Tamryn swallowed, having a feeling she knew where this was going. “I zoomed in on him. Not much of his face was visible under all of those furs, but a part of that tattoo was.” He lifted his gaze to capture her eyes. His voice hardened when he continued. “He’s the same man who was standing behind you when they sent that message and made you talk, isn’t he?”
“He... wasn’t the one with his hand around my throat if that’s what you’re asking.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.” He leaned back, bracing his hands on his knees. “Tam, if he was a part of that raiding party, if he was a part of killing our soldiers, it’s unfathomable that you let him go down there. He should have been shot.”
“You would have shot him for trying to help his people, but you were perfectly willing to give that other man a pile of gold and a ride to wherever he wanted? Commodore Arkt was among those who tried to take over the system all those years ago. Makkon wasn’t. He was a hunter back then, nothing more. Until he was forced to try and save his people from starvation.”
She stopped, aware that she was giving her father more reason to believe she had been compromised rather than less. Indeed, he wore a concerned expression rather than an argumentative one.
“Tam, did you do anything—make any choices—that are going to come to light in a negative way once we’ve taken back the station?”
“No,” she said firmly, though it was all she could do not to wince at the memory of that kiss. That was the one thing that people had seen, the one thing that couldn’t be attributed to being drugged.
She searched her father’s face and thought she read disappointment there. A queasiness spread through her gut. Was it possible he already knew about the kiss? Or had heard condemning reports from Porter or someone else on the station? All along, she had been worrying about what that might mean for her career, but the idea of her father finding out and thinking poorly of her... that was even worse.
“Maybe...” Tamryn groped for a way to explain in a way that would make sense to the military mind. “So, I ended up fighting off pirates with the Glacians, and Makkon—that man you saw—may have decided he liked the way I shoot. I thought I might be able to use that to improve my situation—all of our situations—but that was all there was to it.” Until they had been locked in a refrigerator together... and until she had spent the night with him. With a flash of fear, she wondered for the first time if there had been a camera inside of that vault, the way there had been in the vault across the hall. In the dark, it wouldn’t have picked up any visuals of their activities, but she distinctly recalled that there had been sounds. Could she play all of that off as trying to “improve” her situation? Even if her superiors believed that—and she shuddered to think of such a feed being played for her father—would it make them think better of her? Or worse? Soldiers weren’t supposed to act like prostitutes to battle the enemy.
Her father was gazing at her, that worried expression still tugging his lips downward.
“It’s possible I came to... not hate him as much as I should,” Tamryn said, “but I never stopped doing my duty, trying to escape and trying to defeat him and the others. I swear that to you.”
Her father’s comm beeped before she could find out if he believed her or not.
He touched the pin. “Yes?”
“Message from the moon, sir,” a young voice said. “The Glacians have sent videos of some walls with symbols on them.”
Makkon. A surge of warmth flowed through Tamryn’s veins. He had to have been the one to send it. Was there any chance she could go to the bridge with her father? If not to talk to Makkon, at least to see him?
“I’ll come take a look.” Her father frowned at her, and she wiped her hopeful expression off her face, afraid he saw her thoughts all too clearly. “Get some rest, Tam. You’re not confined to quarters, but I suggest you stay here and reflect on the last few days. I’ll hope that with some time and separation, you’ll come to stop... not hating the enemy as much as you should.”
Her father walked out, and her shoulders slumped. No, she wouldn’t be allowed to see Makkon. Not now, and maybe not ever, unless something came of the message to her grandfather. She would have to wait at least two days before she could expect a response. That sounded like an eternity.
Chapter 29
“President Shenta?” Makkon asked, peeking into the operations/computer room that had become the Glacians’ headquarters. A bulky comm unit took up one corner, maps of the surface and blueprints of Frost Station Alpha occupied the walls, and a big stone table sat in the center, with several people around it. The president, technical advisers, and the woman who taught his nieces and nephews. With Arkt dead, a new military adviser hadn’t been added yet. Makkon wasn’t even sure who could qualify to replace him. Maybe Brax, if he was still alive.
Everyone looked toward him, their expressions expectant. This was the first time anyone over the age of fourteen had made eye contact with him since Shenta had spoken to him upon his return. He had considered himself in exile as he puttered around, recording those language examples. He suspected this summons had to do with that. In the middle of the night, he had sneaked into this room and sent the videos up to the Fleet ships. At the time, there hadn’t been a response, and he hadn’t dared stay in here waiting for one, not when he hadn’t had permission to communicate on his people’s behalf.
“Sit down, Makkon,” President Shenta said. “Or perhaps I should say pack.”
“Ma’am?”
“Your presence, along with mine, has been requested on the Galactic Conglomeration Fleet ship, the Marathon.” She arched her eyebrows. “For negotiations.”
The video. This had to have something to do with that. But why would they have requested him specifically? He hadn’t given his name when he had transmitted the recording. He hadn’t wanted those military officers up there to know someone who didn’t have permission to talk to them was sending messages. Had Tamryn said something? Was she even in the position to say something? She would have even less sway with her people than he had with his, unless her family connections had meant something to the military. Even then, it was hard to imagine her being granted the power to have anything to do with negotiations.
“You sure they don’t just want to shoot me?” Makkon asked.
“No, I’m not sure of that at all. It’s been two days, and we haven’t heard anything regarding our people on the station. I have no idea if they’re still alive or not.”
“At least we haven’t been bombed,” one of the advisers said.
The president stood. “Go, Makkon. Pack. We’re meeting them upside in twenty minutes. A shuttle will take us to the ship.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Shenta?” the teacher asked. “Perhaps someone else should negotiate on your behalf. So we’re not putting a hostage in their hands.”
“I’m not much of a hostage anymore. I’m president over less than five hundred people.”
“At least take more men, more bodyguards.”
“If Makkon can’t keep me alive, I doubt anyone can.”
The statement surprised Makkon, especially since nobody had been pleased with him since
he originally returned without the rest of the team. From the wryness of the president’s expression, she hadn’t meant the words to be kind, more a statement of fact. Well, he would accept that. It was more praise than he’d had in a while.
He did not have much to pack, so he was ready before the president, clad in his furs and wearing the same weapons he had taken to hunt down Arkt. He passed the mining ship on the way to the elevator and saw that men and women were in the process of loading it for an evacuation. Whatever the GalCon military had said about negotiations, his people were preparing for the worst. He couldn’t blame them.
“Let’s go,” the president said as soon as she joined him. She wore heavy furs and a mask, only a couple of inches of her fighting ferret tattoo visible.
“Yes, ma’am.” Makkon activated the elevator, and they rose in silence, the hundreds of meters of rock and then ice skimming past.
When they walked out into the daylight, Makkon expected to have to walk to the ravine again, to the same pickup point Arkt had arranged, but the sleek cylindrical shuttle waited on the ice in front of the cavern entrance. He tried not to find that ominous. After all, he had known their enemies could find them now, thanks to Arkt.
“I would kill that man if you hadn’t already,” the president murmured, her voice almost lost on the wind. Apparently, she found the presence of the combat shuttle alarming too.
Two soldiers in armor waited outside the shuttle hatch. Even though Makkon knew it was unlikely Tamryn would have been sent down here, he couldn’t help but glance at their faceplates, and then at the faces of the other people inside, a pilot and four more armed soldiers. None of them belonged to her.
Everyone loaded, and the shuttle took off without much conversation. These were only the delivery soldiers, not the people with whom they would negotiate.
Frost Station Alpha 1-6: The Complete Series Page 32