by Chris Reher
The base had been built over the initial objections of Delphi's Clan Council when the planet had joined the Union less than twenty years ago. It was therefore small, no more than a token embassy. All foreigners lived on the base, immigration and settlement of off-worlders was discouraged outside the strict perimeters of the compound. What little trade existed was restricted to appointed agencies that rented space on the Union base. Few off-world Union members were granted visas and their visits were always closely monitored. Trespassers were subject to the strict Delphian penal system and tourism was nonexistent.
So far, Delphi allowed its own people to leave the planet as they wished, although grudgingly. Tychon had gone against convention by enlisting. When he had encouraged his wife to join him, he had enraged those who held with tradition. Delphians who had followed his example and entered the Union's military had, like Tychon, become able soldiers. It was their surety of eye and movement as well as their inborn ability to channel stress into productive energy that was coveted by squadron leaders as far away as Ud Mrak. Nova did not know that the lack of Delphian support staff on the airfield was because nearly all of the recruits were quickly moved on to train as pilots or engineers.
The Clan Council had been furious over losing so many of their young people to the military. The Union's presence on Delphi meant protection against Tharron's growing rebel force but the Council cared little about battles fought elsewhere, nor were they interested in trade revenues and the free exchange of thought and friendship among the Commonwealth of United Planets. Their only interest was the preservation of D'Elph'Pi and its population.
But the people of Delphi listened to the house of Phera. That clan had long ago ceded its rule to an elected Council, reserving only a few seats for itself. A fierce loyalty remained for Phera and his kin and when Phera expressed his views, the people listened. It was only because of his views that the Union had been accepted on Delphi at all.
Anders Devaughn, despite his sunny disposition and easy ways, had become an able ambassador. He kept the Council at bay, working hard to establish a sound relationship between the Union and Delphi, all the while spiriting gifted new recruits off to training camps as fast as they came to enlist. He was one of the few outsiders who had access to other parts of Delphi.
Today Tychon, as one of rare Delphian Vanguard pilots, was received with enthusiasm. When the service shuttle delivered them from the airfield to the main administrative building of the base, a crowd of people surrounded him and his companions. Everyone seemed to talk at once. Nova had never seen more than two or three Delphians in any one place and here now were at least ten of the tall natives, some in uniform, some not, eager to have a word with Tychon or to welcome Anders back home.
She observed a blue-haired officer leaning close to Anders in conversation. Although his face remained carefully neutral, his hand rested lightly on the Terran's arm. Nova saw through the guarded expressions around her that even the civilian Delphians were glad to see him safe.
Colonel Jervada sent word that the base was to observe a day of celebration to mark Anders' safe return and to honor the Vanguard officers' presence on Delphi. Messages were sent from the base to the cities of Delphi and Phera's residence, requesting the presence of Tychon and Anders' civilian friends and the few pro-Union Council members.
Nova wondered if their arrival here was just one of many occasions that called for celebration. More likely, she thought, there were too few reasons to enliven the segregated existence on this small base.
She returned to the Eagle in the short lull between debriefing and dinner. There she exchanged her uniform for an opalescent sheath purchased on her visit to Feyd. She was only mildly scandalized by the way the sheer envelope of fabric clung to her figure. She used a stiff brush to bring her thick copper tresses under control, for once allowing her hair to fall unrestrained over bare shoulders.
"Now I will look like a peasant next to you."
She looked up into the mirror to see that Tychon had also returned to the ship. He had stopped by the door to her tiny cabin to regard her with undisguised appreciation.
His casually unzipped combat jacket revealed a loose shirt bearing a Feydan advertising logo. The long legs were encased in real Terran-made cotton trousers. As always, he looked neglectfully casual although it did not take a second look to notice the military crispness that seemed to permeate his being nor did one miss the deadly weapon lashed to his thigh.
She smiled, unsettled by the look that had crossed his sharp features before she was able to read its meaning.
He watched her reflection in the mirror. "I have put you up for a commendation. You did well on K'lar Four." He did not append the usual 'Greenie' to his sentence. His hand touched her shoulder. Nova turned at the contact but he was already walking toward the cargo bay door.
A large group of people had assembled by the time Tychon and Nova arrived at Colonel Jervada's suite. Most were high ranking Centauri, some Delphian pilots, and Nova spotted a few of the red-skinned Bellacs and one or two Pelion natives. There was even an Aramese visitor, his furred body crisscrossed with a network of coolant tubes. The murmur of conversation blended the languages of dozens of regions from several Union planets. Despite the fact that Delphi resented foreigners, it still remained a vital crossroads, close to several charted jumpsites.
After the solitude of space, the lively gathering was at once refreshing and a little overwhelming for Nova. She searched the crowd for Anders and was disappointed to hear that he had not yet returned from the base hospital. A stranger here, she remained at Tychon's side.
He seemed to know everyone. A tall woman, her silvery blue hair cropped to chin length, clasped a hand possessively on his arm. "Shan Tychon," she purred in a delightful lilt, her sapphire eyes barely registering the Human beside him. Most of her words were incomprehensible. She used a dialect foreign to Nova, who took the time to study this elegant creature carefully.
"I am based on Targon now," Tychon said politely, using Delphi's mainvoice for Nova’s benefit.
The woman looked shocked and replied something that conveyed a mixture of affected sympathy and absolute disgust. Nova felt offended; she had always liked Targon.
Tychon took Nova's arm. "Excuse us, please. I see that Colonel Jervada is looking for us." He steered Nova through the crowd, accepting greetings and congratulations along the way.
"Wow!" Nova managed at last.
"What?"
"Are all Delphian women that beautiful?"
"I suppose." He looked back to where they had left the woman with her equally stunning companions. "Those ones can't fly planes, though," he added with a smile.
Nova smiled back, glad for his attention among these strangers. She was aware of suspicious glances and some outright calculating stares directed at her. She could imagine what thoughts passed through those finely honed minds and preferred not to know for sure.
"Tychon, my boy!" Colonel Jervada exclaimed when they had finally reached him. "Have I told you how grateful I am to you and your very charming crew?" He took Nova's hand in both of his. "They don't make soldiers like they used to! At least not on the outside. Young Devaughn tells me you freed him single-handedly from a horde of rebels."
"Well, Rhuwacs. And Major Tychon–"
"This is how legends are made, Captain," the Colonel interrupted with a chuckle. "The true stories are generally uninteresting. Or classified." His eyes moved beyond her. "Ah, there's our lost son now!"
Anders had arrived at the door. Someone started a cheer. Others applauded.
"Hey, Derry! Heard you took a Rhuwac mate!"
"Who had to pay to get you out?"
"Who paid Tharron to lock you up?"
Anders grinned, looking around the room for Tychon. There was more back slapping and catcalling as he made his way to them.
"See? This is what I look like with my nose where it should be." He presented himself to Nova. The last of his bruises were erased, the fractured n
ose repaired. "Now will you marry me?"
Nova laughed and shook her head.
"Well, I tried," he sighed. "Oh, you're so beautiful in that dress! Colonel, if she weren't enslaved to the Vanguard, she would run off with me immediately. She practically told me so herself! I suppose the Major is taking her to that Targon desert?"
Tychon nodded. "Targon is on alert. I have had a message that Tharron's base on Magra is indeed mobilizing. We expect that they’ll take a few leaps so that we won’t know from where they’ll arrive. Captain Whiteside and I will be there when they reach Targon."
“If they’re not using stable sites they’ll have to bring more than one spanner,” Nova said. “This might be a good opportunity for us to take a few of them out. I don’t imagine that Tharron has many to spare.”
Jervada frowned. "Was it explained anywhere why they decided to hit Targon of all places?"
Nova shrugged. "They may be aiming for the research center. Or they may just want to cause confusion by taking out Trans-Targon's seat of government."
"So they attack one of the best-armed bases of the damn galaxy? They'd have to attack with atomics and no rebel would dare if they owned one. The center is a mile below ground."
"Rhuwacs are not known for their powers of reasoning," Tychon reminded him.
Jervada's face was surly. "It's not the Rhuwacs that are pushing the buttons. It's a priority that we cut off rebel supply of weapons and air power. Is that not your assignment?"
"It is," Tychon said. "We suspected that they were obtaining them outside Trans-Targon. But the funds for that just aren't there. Then we found that most of their weaponry is actually Union issue."
"You know who's behind this, don't you?" The Colonel's good humor appeared to have left him.
"As long as we can't move on Magra, Tharron's man there is virtually untouchable."
Anders swatted Tychon's arm. "Come now, I thought this was a party! I’m going to introduce Nova around. Maybe if she sees how normal people live she’ll hand in her combat boots." He led her away.
Tychon and Jervada watched them go.
"She is competent?"
"I think so."
"There are a lot of people here that don't approve. You are a very prominent entity, Major. They say that you are setting an undesirable precedent and flaunting Delphi's traditions, if not outright taboos. And if that's not enough, there is speculation on what merits she made Vanguard. She's young."
Tychon snarled. "I am aware of that. She'll prove soon enough that she did not make into Vanguard because of who her father is. And you know that it is only my clan who complains about me, uh, consorting with a Human, which, by the way, I am not. Only Delphians can possibly be that puritan." He hesitated briefly. "I think our co-habitation might do our backward friends some good. Segregation of Delphi isn't possible anymore. Not with the Union the only thing between Tharron and Delphi's wealth. Your people didn't get here by pointing out differences between Human and Centauri."
Jervada regarded Tychon as the Delphian watched Nova move gracefully through the crowded room. He saw many things in the way this man looked at her but they had nothing to do with Terran-Delphi political relations. "I have confidence in your judgment. I am also glad that you're on Colonel Carras' staff and not mine anymore."
"Targon isn't Delphi. I have no interest in others' prejudices."
Jervada decided to change the subject. "Have you heard that we may have a rebel problem on Delphi?"
"Here?"
The general nodded. "Strange things have happened. First, Anders' commuter plane is hijacked en route to Targon. Then we spotted an unidentified craft entering Delphi space, landing and taking off again within minutes and before we could investigate. Of course, Delphi Council is accusing us of ineptitude but while Delphi is not a Union planet we can't really question outside traffic. If our base is ignored it becomes a Delphian matter. We assume the plane was a rebel ship. Any other would have landed here on the base. And finally, someone used one of our satellites here to try to access Delphi's library. The Shantirs shut them down, of course, when they did not receive an access code. They were rather tight-lipped about that incident but the intruder could not have been a Union member. We've never been denied access to your library."
"As long as you don't try to access the wrong files," Tychon amended. "What do you think is happening?"
"Wish I knew. Tharron's never been interested in Delphi before. At least not so far. It’s too close to Targon."
Tychon shook his head in puzzlement. "Do you have more bad news?"
"Since you asked, Jelani wants to see you."
Tychon sighed; he had expected this. "I don't have time for him. It can wait, whatever it is. I'm sure he'll track me down eventually."
* * *
The party drew to a close much later. As Anders had promised, Delphian nights were longer than the cycles to which Nova was accustomed. Yet she felt far from tired when they prepared to leave the base residentials. Much of the food and drink had been new to her and Anders had encouraged her to try a little of all that was offered.
She felt giddy and lightheaded and agreed when Tychon passed the airfield carts and suggested a walk back to the Eagle. The crisp air at this altitude would go a long way toward evaporating this evening's indulgences.
Tychon strolled silently beside her as they neared the far end of the airfield, slowing his steps to suit hers, clearly enjoying the feel of Delphi beneath his feet.
"What a wonderful staff on this base! I talked a bit with Captain Griffin and he absolutely agrees that I need to stay out of Feyd entirely. But then he got into an argument with Cillian Rafe about Humans on Feyd and so I left them to it. Did you have some of that orange noodle stuff? Not noodles at all…" She laughed. “I am babbling! You can stop me, if you like.”
“Not at all. I’ve just never seen a Human civilian before. You are very civilian tonight.” He smiled in anticipation when they reached the end of the runway. "Look," he said.
Nova stared speechlessly at the panorama before them. Her hands gripped the metal links of the high fence surrounding the base.
The ground on the other side of the enclosure dropped gradually to form a deep, vast valley. The moons of Delphi poured their light over dense forests, exposing the taller trees in stark relief. Thick streams of mist edged the meadows and obscured the lights of faraway settlements. The mirror surface of lakes shone everywhere on this cloudless evening. The valley narrowed in the South where she saw the only large city of Delphi, Chaib Psa, its graceful skyline bordering the rustic lowlands without the preamble of suburbs. All of this was ringed by snow-tipped mountains whose fringes formed the site on which the base had been built.
"It's so much like Earth! I've seen video that showed places like these. You grew up here?"
He inclined his head toward the foothills of Chaliss'Ya, Mother Mountain.
"And you left?"
He turned toward her with a sudden movement that startled her. Whatever he meant to say did not seem to want to pass his lips and she peered up into his face, desperate to understand his mood. The moonlight had softened his features and Nova realized that he was no longer the unsympathetic officer that she had met on Myra. Probably hadn’t been for days. The hand he now placed on her bare arm sent a rush of sparks through her body. His eyes touched her lips for an eternity and for some reason she felt that all the way down to her knees. Then he blinked, as though awakened from a daydream. He looked once more down into the valley and then he turned away, toward the Eagle. "I am a pilot, not a farmer. Maybe some day I will be back."
Chapter Five
The Eagle screamed into the well-guarded landing bays of Targon, the Union's military headquarters in Trans-Targon, after general quarters had already been sounded.
Even through the limited range of their real-vid screens, Nova perceived the high-pitched tension as the base personnel prepared for the impeding attack. Normal, efficient routine was put aside; all hands on d
eck, pilots and ground crew racing against time to ready planes and weapons.
This was her favorite of all places, where thousands of individuals from dozens of distant places came together to work and learn and live. Even the cool, only partially concealed rivalry between Terran and Delphian was usually ignored in this melting pot, allowing each to work for the continuity of the Union. Here rank was based on merit, not origin.
The base was a hulking gray complex of airfields, hangars and administrative buildings, all connected by covered roads, tunnels and conveyors. Constructed in what was essentially a combat zone, few buildings exceeded a height of more than a few floors. Most of the more sensitive areas were located well below ground level.
The planet was a mostly unexplored sponge of tunnels, shafts and caves ranging from small chambers to vast, vaulted caverns. Its surface was dismal, its atmosphere thin but livable, its sub-level water reservoirs no longer apparent on the featureless surface. The native inhabitants were cave dwellers that rarely sought the light of day. When the water had finally seeped entirely underground they had followed it, learned to hunt the white, fish-like creatures and to harvest algae and subterranean mosses for sustenance. When the Union arrived, there had been more than enough room to share, or perhaps the natives simply did not care.
What made Targon a suitable base was its central location, the hub of Trans-Targon. From here, space was measured, distances between planets charted into neat sectors, and jumpsites accounted for. Targon was Terra Centauri's embassy, its capital in the New Domain. That it was also its largest military base seemed only prudent.
Tychon and Nova slipped into formal uniforms before leaving the ship.
"Is that what you're supposed to look like?" Nova asked.
He looked imposing in the dark gray jacket, crossed diagonally by an ornamental ammunition belt. The gun at his side was anything but ornamental. His hair was brushed back over the crown of his head and caught in a tight braid at his nape, robbing him of anything that might soften his severe expression.