by neetha Napew
“You’re lucky,” the medician said again. “It was a coldsleep prep dose. If you’d hit the tank controls by mistake, you might have been in coldsleep immediately ... or if you’d chosen to enter coldsleep early, the residual in your blood could have killed you. It didn’t completely clear until the third day.”
“The cabinet?” She remembered her fear of that featureless interior.
“Nothing: it was normal.” The medician looked at her curiously. “You’re in remarkably good shape, all things considered. That lump on the back of your head may still hurt, but there’s no damage. You’re not showing any signs of excessive anxiety - “
Sassinak slurped the last bit of broth and grinned. “I’m safe now. And not hungry. When can I get up?”
Before the medician could answer, a voice from the corridor said, “That’s Sass, all right! I can tell from here.”
“Not yet,” said the medician to Sass. Then, “Do you want visitors? I can easily tell them to let you rest.”
But Sassinak could hardly wait to find out what had happened so far. Mira, all trace of fashionable reserve gone, and Jrain, almost visibly shimmering into another shape in his excitement, were only too glad to tell her.
“I knew,” Mira began, “that it couldn’t have been your fault. You aren’t ever careless like that; you wouldn’t have hit the wrong button or anything. And of course you, of all people, wouldn’t cooperate with slavers or pirates.”
“But how did you find me without the beacon?”
Mira nodded at Jrain. “Your Weft friends did it. I don’t know if Jrain can explain it - he couldn’t to me - but they tracked you, somehow - “
“It was really the Ssli interface,” Jrain said. “You know how they can sense other vessels in FTL space - “
“Yes, but I wasn’t in FTL space after the pod went off, was I?”
“No, but it turns out they can reach beyond it, somehow. Doesn’t make any sense to me, and what Hssro calls the relevant equations I call gibberish. The pod is really too small to sense - like something small too far away to see - but we knew exactly when you’d been dumped, and the Ssli was able to - to do whatever it does in whatever direction that was. Then we Wefts sort of rode that probe, feeling our way toward you.”
“But you said - “
“Because you’re alive, and we know you. We had to go in our own shapes, of course - “ He frowned, and Sassinak tried to imagine the effect on Fargeon of all the crew’s Wefts in their own shape, clinging, no doubt, to the bulkheads of the Ssli contact chamber. Or on the bridge? She asked.
“He wasn’t pleased with us,” said Jrain, a reminiscent smile on his face. “We don’t usually clump on him, you know: he doesn’t like aliens much, though he tries to be fair. But when it came down to risking the loss of your pod, or giving in to Achael’s insinuations - “
“Kirtin changed right there in front of the captain,” put in Mira. “I thought he was going to choke. Then Basil and Jrain - “
“Ptak first: I was the last one,” Jrain put in.
“Whatever.” Mira shrugged away the correction and went on. “Can you imagine - this was in the big wardroom, and there they were all over the walls! I’d never seen more than one Weft changed at a time - “ She quirked an eyebrow at Sass.
“I have. It’s impressive, isn’t it?”
“Impressive! It’s crowded, is what it is, with these big spiky things all over the walls and ceiling.” Mira wrinkled her nose at Jrain, who grinned at her. “Not to mention all those eyes glittering out at you. And you never told me,” she said to Jrain, “that you’re telepaths in that shape. I thought you’d use a biolink to the computer or something.”
“There wasn’t time,” said Jrain.
“But what about the rendezvous with the EEC ship? Did we miss that?”
“No. What we decided - I mean - “ Mira looked sideways. “What the Wefts decided, was to let that go on, and then pick you up afterwards. It seemed risky to me - the further we went, the further away you were, the harder to find. It was a real gamble - “
“No,” said Jrain firmly and loudly. Mira stared at him, and Sassinak blinked. He took a long breath, and said more quietly, “We don’t gamble. We don’t ever gamble.”
“I didn’t mean like a poker game,” said Mira sharply. “But it was risky - “
“No.” As they looked at him, his form wavered, then steadied again. “I can’t explain. But you must not think - “ an earnest look at Sassinak “ - you must not think we gamble with your life, Sassinak. Never.”
“I - oh, all right, Jrain. You don’t gamble. But if one of you doesn’t get all this in order and tell me what happened, and where we are, and where Achael is, I’m going to crawl out of this bed and stuff you in a pod.”
Jrain, calmer now, sat on the end of her bed. “Achael is dead. That evidence you spoke to the captain about - remember?” Sassinak nodded. “Well, the captain had it put under guard. The pod, and the items removed, like the blood samples. Achael tried to get at it. He did get into the med lab, and destroyed one test printout before he was discovered. Then he broke for the docking bays - I think to steal a pod himself. When the guards spotted him, and he knew he was trapped, he killed himself. Had a poison capsule, apparently. The captain won’t tell us, not all the details, but we’ve had our ears open.” He patted Sass’s foot under the blanket. “At first the captain wanted to think that you and Achael were co-conspirators, but he couldn’t ignore the evidence . . . you know, Sass, you really did cram that pod with evidence. You did such a good job it was almost suspicious that way.”
“Fleet Intelligence is going to get the whole load dumped on them when we get back to Sector HQ,” Mira put in. “I heard Fargeon won’t even trust the IFTL link.”
“We’d better go,” said Jrain, suddenly looking nervous. “I think - I think the captain would rather you heard some of this from him ...” He grabbed Mira’s arm and steered her away. Sassinak caught his unspoken thought . . . And he’s had quite enough to put up with from Wefts already this week.
“Ensign Sassinak.” Captain Fargeon’s severe face was set in slightly friendlier lines, Sassinak thought. She was, however, immediately conscious of every wrinkle of the bedclothes. Then he smiled. “You had a very narrow escape. Ensign, in more than one way. I understand you’ve been told about the drug that showed up in the blood samples?” Sassinak nodded, and he went on. “It was very good thinking to take those serial samples. Although normally - mmm - there’s nothing to commend in a young officer who manages to get sand- bagged and shanghaied, in this case you seem to have acted with unusual intelligence once you woke up. You have nothing to reproach yourself for. I know Lieutenant Cavery looks forward to your return to duty in Communications Section. Good day.”
Following that somewhat confusing speech, Sassinak lay quietly, wondering what Fargeon did think of her. She had been expecting praise, but realized that to the ship’s captain her entire escapade was one big head- ache. He’d had to leave his intended course to go looking for her, even if the guidance of Wefts and Ssli made that easier than usual. He’d had to worry about her motives, and the presence of unknown saboteurs in his ship; he’d had to assign someone else to cover her work; when they got back to Sector HQ, he was going to have to fill out a lot of forms, and spend a lot of time talking to Fleet Intelligence ... all in all, she’d caused a lot of trouble by not being quicker in the evacuation drill. If she’d managed to turn and drop Achael with a bit of fancy hard-to-hand, she’d have saved everyone a lot of trouble. She shook her head at her own juvenile imagination. No more Carin Coldae: no more playing games. She’d done a good job with a bad situation, but she hadn’t managed to avoid the bad situation. She’d have to do better.
So it was that Fargeon’s annual Fitness Report, which he showed her before filing it, startled her.
“Clear-headed, resourceful, good initiative, outstanding self-discipline: this young officer requires only seasoning to develop into an excellent
addition to any Fleet operation. Unlike many who rest on past achievements, this officer does not let success go to her head, and can be counted on for continued effort. Recommended for earliest promotion eligibility.” Sassinak looked up from this to find Fargeon’s face relaxed in a broad smile for the first time in her memory.
“Just as I said the first day. Ensign Sassinak: if you realize that you can’t ever start at the top, and if you continue to show your willingness to work, you’ll do very well indeed. I’d be glad to have you in my command again, any time.”
“Thank you, sir.” Sassinak wondered whether to strain this approval by telling him what she suspected about Achael and Abe’s death. “Sir, about Lieutenant Achael - “
“All information will go to Fleet Security - do you have something which you did not put in your tape?”
She had included her suspicion that Achael had murdered Abe, but would anyone take it seriously? “It’s in there, sir, but - about my guardian, who was killed - “
“Abe, you mean.” The captain permitted himself a tight smile. “A good man. Fleet to the bone. Well, this is not for discussion. Ensign, but I would agree with your surmise. Achael was a prisoner on the same slaver base where you and Abe were; the most logical supposition is that Abe knew something about his conduct or treatment there which would have been dangerous to Achael. Perhaps he was deep-conditioned, or something. He killed Abe to keep his secret, and suspected that Abe might have told you something.”
“But what might be behind Achael?” asked Sass. But with this question, she had gone too far. The captain’s face closed again, although he did not seem angry.
“That’s for Security to determine, when they have all the evidence. Myself, I suspect that he was merely protecting himself. Suppose Abe knew he had stolen from other prisoners - that would ruin his Fleet career. I would be willing to wager that the final report will conclude that Achael was acting in his own behalf when he killed Abe and attempted to incriminate you.”
Sassinak was not convinced, but knew better than to argue. As Fargeon predicted. Fleet Security agreed with his surmise, and closed the file on the murder. Achael’s attacks on Sassinak, and his suicide, made a clear pattern with his years as a prisoner: too clear, Sassinak thought, too simple. When she was older, when she had rank, she promised herself, she’d find out who was really responsible for Abe’s death, who had set Achael on his trail. For now, she’d honor his memory with her own success.
BOOK THREE
Chapter Eight
The striking, elegant woman in the mirror, Sassinak thought, had come a long way from the young ensign she had been. She had been lucky; she had been born with the good bones, the talent, the innate toughness to survive. She had had more luck along the way. But . . . she winked at herself, then grinned at that egotism. But she had cooperated with her luck, given it all the help she could. Tonight - tonight it was time for celebration. She had made it to Commander, past the dangerous doldrum ranks where the unwanted lodged sullenly until retirement age. She was about to have her own ship again, and this one a cruiser.
She eyed the new gown critically. Once she’d learned that good clothes fully repaid the investment, she’d spent some concentrated time learning what colors and styles suited her best. And then, one by one, she’d accumulated a small but elegant wardrobe. This, now . . . her favorite rich colors glowed, jewel-like reds and deep blues and purples, a quilted bodice shaped above a flowing, full skirt of deepest midnight, all in soft silui that caressed her skin with every movement. She slipped her feet into soft black boots, glad that the ridiculous fashion for high heels had once again died out. She was tall enough as it was. Her comm signal went off as she was putting on the last touches, the silver earrings and simple necklace with its cut crystal star.
“Just because you got the promotion and the cruiser doesn’t mean you can make us late,” said the voice in her ear, the Lieutenant Commander who’d arranged the party. He’d been her assistant when she was working for Admiral Pael. “Tobaldi’s doesn’t hold reservations past the hour - “
“I know; I’m coming.” With a last look at the mirror, she picked up her wrap and went out. As she’d half-expected, two more of her friends waited in the corridor outside, with flowers and a small wrapped box.
“You put this on now,” said Mira. Her gold curly hair had faded a little, but not the bright eyes or quick mind. Sassinak took the gift, and untied the silver ribbon carefully.
“I suppose you figured out what I’d be wearing,” she said, laughing. Then she had the box open, and caught her breath. When she looked at Mira, the other woman was smug.
“I bought it years ago, that time we were shopping, remember? I saw the way you looked at it, and knew the time would come. Of course, I could have waited until you made admiral - “ She ducked Sass’s playful blow. “You will, Sass. It’s a given. I’ll retire in a couple of years, and go back to Dad’s shipping company - at least he’s agreed to let me take over instead of that bratty cousin .... Anyway, let me fasten it.”
Sassinak picked up the intricate silver necklace, a design that combined boldness and grace (and, she recalled, an outrageous price - at least for a junior lieutenant, which she had been then) and let Mira close the fastening. Her star went into the box - for tonight, at least - and the box went back in her room. Whatever she might have said to Mira was forestalled by the arrival of the others, and the six of them were deep into reminiscences by the time they got to Tobaldi’s.
Mira - the only one who had been there - had to tell the others all about Sass’s first cruise. “They’ve heard that already,” Sassinak kept protesting. Mira shushed her firmly.
“You wouldn’t have told them the good parts,” she said, and proceeded to give her version of the good parts. Sassinak retaliated with the story of Mira’s adventures on - or mostly off - horseback, one leave they’d taken together on Mira’s homeworld. “I’m a spacer’s brat, not a horsebreeder’s daughter,” complained Mira.
“You’re the one who said we ought to take that horse-packing trip,” said Sass. The others laughed, and brought up their own tales.
Sassinak looked around the group - which now numbered fourteen, since others had arrived to join them. Was there really someone from every ship she’d been on? Four were from the Padalyan Reef, the cruiser on which she’d been the exec until a month ago. That was touching: they had given her a farewell party then, and she had not expected to see them tonight. But the two young lieutenants, stiffly correct among the higher ranks, would not have missed it - she could see that in their eyes. The other two, off on long home leave between assignments, had probably dropped in just because they enjoyed a party.
Her glance moved on, checking an invisible list. All but the prize she’d been given command of, she thought - and wished for a moment that Ford, wherever he was, could be there, too. Forrest had known her, true, but he’d missed that terrifying interlude, staying on the patrol ship with its original crew. Carew, whom she’d known as a waspish major when she was a lieutenant, on shore duty with Commodore . . . what had her name been? Narros, that was it ... Carew was now a balding, cheery senior Commander, whose memory had lost its sting. Sassinak almost wondered if he’d ever been difficult, then saw a very junior officer across the room flinch away from his gaze. She shrugged mentally - at least he wasn’t causing her trouble any more. Her exec from her first command was there, now a Lieutenant Commander and just as steady as ever, though with gray streaking his thick dark hair. Sassinak blessed the genes that had saved her from premature silver . . . she wanted to wear her silver by choice, not necessity. She didn’t need gray hair to lend her authority, she thought to herself. Even back on the Sunrose. . . . But he was making a small speech, reminding her - and the others - of the unorthodox solution she had found for a light patrol craft in a particular tactical situation. Her friends enjoyed the story, but she remembered very well that some of the senior officers had not liked her solution at all. Her brows lowered, and
Mira poked her in the ribs.
“Wake up, Sass, the battle’s over. You don’t need to glare at us like that.”
“Sorry ... I was remembering Admiral Kurin’s comments.”
“Well ... we all know what happened to him.” And that was true enough. A stickler for the rulebook, he had fallen prey to a foe who was not. But Sassinak knew that his opinion of her had gone on file before that, to influence other seniors. She had seen the doubtful looks, and been subject to careful warnings.
Now, however, two men approached the tables with the absolute assurance that comes only from a lifetime of command, and high rank at the end of it. Bilisics, the specialist in military law from Command and Staff, and Admiral Vannoy, Sector Commandant.
“Commander Sassinak - congratulations.” Bilisics had been one of her favorite instructors, anywhere. She had even gone to him for advice on a most private and delicate matter - and so far as she could tell, he had maintained absolute secrecy. His grin to her acknowledged all that. “I must always congratulate an officer who steers a safe course through the dangerous waters of a tour at Fleet Headquarters, who avoids the reefs of political or social ambition, the treacherous tides of intimacy in high places ...” He practically winked: they both knew what that was about. The others clearly thought it was one of Bilisics’s usual mannered pleasantries. As far as she knew, no one had ever suspected her near-engagement to the ambassador from Arion.
“Yes: congratulations. Commander, and welcome to the Sector. You’ll like the
Zaid-Dayan, and I’m sure you’ll do well with it.” She had worked with Admiral Vannoy before, but not for several years. His newer responsibilities had not aged him; he gave, as always, the impression of energy under firm control.
“Would you join us?” Sassinak asked. But, as she expected, they had other plans, and after a few more minutes drifted off to join a table of very senior officers at the far end of the room.