Devoted Deceptions, A 4th Millennium Adventure, Book 3

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Devoted Deceptions, A 4th Millennium Adventure, Book 3 Page 18

by Cherie Singer


  Then, little by little, she came to feel the disquiet stemmed from something else. Something to do with the children? Unable to rid herself of the feeling, she left a message for Cass at the Burnelle compound on Bellona, then tried to bury herself in duty.

  A few moments before the official start of day watch, Mykal Lyon strode his way into the fighter bay. He stopped, had a few words with a technician, then continued toward Cat.

  "Good morning, Commander."

  "I'm surprised you can call it good. Mykal, about what happened in the gym...I'm not sure what to say, other than--"

  Lyon shook his head. A cryptic smile appeared on his face. "The incident has come to a conclusion. My only regret is that the episode came to your attention."

  Cat checked his face for signs of lingering injury, found nothing. "Albright does good work."

  "Indeed she does."

  "I wish the situation hadn't escalated to blows."

  Lyon shrugged. "Better blows than sidearm fire, which--"

  "--is harder to dodge," they finished together, then both laughed, at ease with one another.

  "Mykal, did you have an opportunity to scavenge and hoard the list of items from the refitting being done to the Falchion?"

  "Every bit. Most of the items had been slated for reprocessing. I found a corner in one of the cargo bays, stashed everything in drums."

  "Good."

  "Commander, if you put this collection of junk together--"

  "Yes, Mykal?" Cat grinned in reaction to the puzzlement in his green eyes.

  "You have a collection of junk."

  "Precisely. Now I think I've decided what to do with it."

  "And that would be?"

  "I want all the scrap material stored between the inner, true hull and the outer hull of my fighter. Rig a shrouding device powered by the replicated plunarium to the outer hull."

  Lyon didn't look puzzled anymore. He looked shocked. "The replicated crystal explodes if you power with it!"

  "That's what I'm counting on. You can install the systems, can't you, and keep it a secret?"

  "I can, certainly. But the reasoning escapes me."

  "I have a gut feeling I'm going to need an extra pawn in this game."

  Cat watched the flight crews' progress as they filed in. A niggling little thread of worry crept into her consciousness. Something, somewhere, didn't feel right, but she couldn't put a name or occurrence to what bothered her. The flight personnel assembled into straight lines and fell silent. She noticed a pilot missing from one of the flight squads. "Lieutenant Lyon, I believe we're short a pilot."

  "Aye. Manahan won't be flying this morning. He had a slight...accident and is unable to report."

  "How serious?"

  "He will live, Commander," Lyon said without inflection.

  Cat sharpened her focus on Lyon. Had to be bad for a Bellon not to report for duty. "Something I should know about Manahan?"

  "No, Ma'am. As I said, he will mend. I ordered him to stay in his quarters for the watch."

  "I see." A reprimand, then. So be it. "If the situation changes, or if you decide I should know more..."

  "Aye, Commander." Lyon, as the fighter crews' immediate superior, began the pilot evaluation. "Most of you have managed to make your fighter an extension of yourself. You need that connection to stay alive, to keep your comrades alive. I have a few points I'd like to make, however, so pay attention. I won't repeat myself."

  The uneasiness and uncertainty Cat felt earlier faded to the background as a new tendril of emotion edged into her awareness. She paced between the crew members, but couldn't identify the person radiating a sense of resentment and rivalry. When the feelings changed to a slow, simmering anger, she recognized the undercurrent. Wulfe watched them from somewhere, probably the higher observation deck.

  Lyon finished. Cat took over the review, stopping in front of each crewman as she made specific comments. "Fortier, you're still too hesitant. A two-second delay can get you or your wing partners killed. Do us all a favor and spend an extra hour practicing the basic maneuvers. You'll be fine once you can do them in your sleep."

  "Aye, Commander."

  Cat gave several favorable evaluations until she stood in front of Blackwood. She'd considered this one carefully and in the end decided she could be fair. "Blackwood, you follow the pack. With your instincts, you should be out front, a leader."

  "Commander?"

  Cat gave the female a narrow-eyed look. "If you stay where you belong--both in and out of your fighter--you're going to make one Underworld of a pilot, Blackwood."

  "Ma'am, yes, Ma'am." The look of surprise on Blackwood's face lost to an expression of reserved pleasure.

  Cat moved on, said something to all fifty-five of the pilots present, and most of the tech crews. One of the last, Xiang, held her attention. "You're a flasher, Xiang. I don't care for flashers."

  "A what?"

  Lyon shouldered his way into Xiang's line of vision, came up against Cat's outstretched arm. "You say: A what, Commander? You read me, Pilot?"

  "Aye, Sir," Xiang acknowledged Lyon's reprimand. "I'm a what, Commander?"

  "A flasher. You know precisely what I mean. I understand you've completed your teardown and rebuild assignment."

  "Yes, Ma'am."

  "Who's the tech who checked your work? Where is he?"

  "Sebring, Ma'am, and he won't be on duty for two more hours. Sebring worked night watch, Commander." Xiang held a handcom out toward Cat. "This is the authorization."

  Before Cat could take the unit from him, her comm tag chirped. "Culver."

  `You have an incoming message from Bellona, Commander.'

  Cat hesitated, her mouth going dry. She wanted to take the message, feared something had happened to the children. "Is the transmission tagged as an emergency?"

  `No, Ma'am. Standard reply only.'

  Her stomach unknotted and Cat allowed a small breath of relief to flow outward. Still edgy, she responded, "Log the message into my personal system for later retrieval, Seleen."

  `Aye.'

  Cat turned her attention back to the flight teams. "Listen up, people. The lieutenant and I are both going to fly with you. Xiang, you get to chase your furies. Anyone not scrambled in the next five minutes doesn't fly today."

  The crews broke rank with whoops and war cries. Cat and Lyon followed them toward the pilots' locker rooms, dealt with last minute orders and gave instructions to Xiang.

  Amid the general clatter of twenty-some women skimming in and out of clothing in the locker room, Blackwood approached Cat. "You were generous in your evaluation, Commander."

  "Don't you think you deserved it?"

  Blackwood smiled briefly, sealed her suit. "Yes, Ma'am, I believe so. I didn't expect something so favorable, is all. You're an honorable officer."

  Cat watched her walk away, then finished pulling on her flight suit. Blackwood would make a leader, a good one, and soon. Cat exited the locker room, began to cross the flight deck. She completed the final adjustments to her suit, gave some of the tabs a tug here, a pull there, tightening the soft, protective fabric to her body. When she cleared the observation deck, she turned and looked upward.

  Shadows enclosed the upper observation deck, but she knew Wulfe still watched them, hidden in the dimness. The emotions fermenting in him--jealousy, resentment, the same riot of contrasts--sent out an identifiable aura.

  With a casual movement, she opened the top of her suit, reached inside as though making a minor adjustment, providing him with an eyeful of her breasts. The gesture, prompted by sheer devilment, would seem innocent enough. After all, she'd turned her back to the scrambling crews to protect her modesty. Let him wonder.

  While the pilots checked in with their preflight verifications, Cat set up the exercises so she and Lyon could observe everyone's targeting accuracy and maneuvering abilities. Xiang alone would take a separate sector of surrounding space to bring down a handful of armed furies.

  Once lau
nched, she and Lyon linked back and forth on a private channel, pointing out the flaws and brilliance of the pilots observed and made notes for their reviews.

  Then, in the middle of the session, Xiang's young, terrified voice came over the general link. `I can't stop it! The last fury is on me and I can't target! My computer's off-line! Shut it down! Shut it down! My weapons won't fire!'

  "We're on our way," Cat answered, immediately setting her fighter for a new course. A glance at her readouts told her Lyon flew at her left wing. Seconds later, she saw Xiang's fighter pull a loop as he panicked, trying to evade the fury. "No! Pull back! Allow it to bypass, then you target and fire manually. Xiang! Pull back! Pull back!"

  The fury locked on Xiang and released its deadly pulse before she could target. The direct hit blew the craft, Xiang and his copilot into oblivion. A second later, Lyon destroyed the fury. All comm chatter went dead as everyone absorbed what had happened.

  Cat's ears rang with the silence.

  Chapter 13

  WULFE STORMED onto the main level of the flight deck. Adrenalin surged through his body in a mighty rush. The way Cat had charged to Xiang's rescue--gods, the fury could have killed her before anyone else had the chance to act in her defense. His heart triphammered like a faulty pulse cannon. He couldn't take the stress of her presense without doing her in himself. She had to go! He wanted her off his ship!

  Lyon climbed out of the Wildchild, took a fast, appraising look at Wulfe. Wulfe simply stared in return.

  Lyon snapped a command to the agitated flight crews milling around in confusion. "Find something worthwhile to do. Now!"

  The air pressure in the bay fluctuated, then returned to normal as Cat's fighter--the last to return--whooshed in and settled to the deck plates with a conspicuous, ungraceful thud. Cat emerged, her movements stiff and halting. The honey-bronze color of her face had vanished to be replaced by a stark ashen shade that momentarily cooled Wulfe's anger.

  Lyon moved to stand between him and Cat. "Captain--"

  "Stay out of this Lieutenant. I suggest you find something worthwhile to do, too, unless you enjoy being caught in a crossfire."

  Wulfe stalked toward Cat, the breath hot and raspy in the back of his throat. "What the narg do you think you were doing?"

  She loosened her tight collar with a shaking hand. "Instruct--"

  "You make one nargging poor instructor. I ought to teach you more than one lesson! Something you won't soon forget."

  Cat came toe to toe with him. "If you can do better with the flight crews, do it or get off my back!"

  "You incompetent little fool! Your disregard for life--"

  "Nothing you bloody well say to me is going to change what happened out there. Even you don't have that much power!"

  "You doing a simple preflight check on Xiang's craft would have saved his life! You allowed something to distract you!"

  "Don't you think I know that?" Cat screamed the question at him. Color flooded her face. Her fist battered the center of his chest in bruising thuds.

  Her wild-eyed stare challenged him, his authority, his dominance. Cat's defiance knifed through his defenses, carved away the armor shielding explosive emotions. One backhanded blow to silence her. Or one punishing kiss.

  "Captain," a faraway voice intruded and severed the tentative connection that seemed to be trying to form with Cat. "Captain?"

  Wulfe jerked his gaze from Cat. Relief and exasperation jockeyed for supremacy. He found the female, Blackwood, watching him. "What is it, Pilot?"

  "I distinctly heard Commander Culver give Xiang the order to double-check his work and do a complete preflight."

  "What?" After the scene in the gym, he'd have picked this particular pilot as the last one to take Cat's side in anything.

  Blackwood nodded. "The commander also asked for the results of his preflight before he launched. He said he'd been cleared."

  "He did," Mykal Lyon stated. "I heard Xiang's report, too."

  Lyon's defense of Cat grated on Wulfe's nerve endings a helluva a lot more than Blackwood's.

  Cat's clenched fist rested against Wulfe's chest. Her muscles jittered ever so slightly. She seemed to sag a bit as she turned her attention to the pilot. "Why are you defending me, Blackwood?"

  "I'm not, Commander. I'm simply telling the truth. Xiang's own lies killed him, not you nor any incompetence on your part. His own arrogance accomplished the task quite well." Blackwood turned and marched across the flight bay.

  An Earther would feel remorse at this point, but he didn't have that leeway or luxury. Wulfe cleared his throat. "Cat--"

  She jerked her hand away, stepped back. "Satisfied?"

  He should be, but the confrontation left something inside him raw and empty and savage. Not to mention the vestige of admiration over her unbridled response to his accusation. Such spirit. "Aye, for now, but--"

  Cat spun on her heel and strode away, head high, shoulders squared, without another word, not giving him a chance to finish.

  Lyon cleared his throat. "Captain--"

  Wulfe rounded on Lyon. "If you ever try to interfere like that again, Mister, you'll spend the rest of your life back on Bellona living with the Nomads."

  Lyon looked him square in the eye. "You might as well send me now, then, because I will always try to defend what is just. I do not call that interfering."

  "You don't know how badly you've made me wish I had been the one to knock you senseless in the gymnasium."

  "You might want to talk with Manahan before you decide, Captain. I believe he regrets his indiscretion."

  "Manahan is the pilot who was missing earlier? I wondered at the time if he's the lucky man I saw all but crawling out the back exit to the gym. Cat interrupted us before you could tell me what happened. Care to give out the information now?"

  "Manahan made an...inappropriate...remark about Commander Culver."

  Wulfe ground his teeth together. If Cat wasn't defending Lyon, Lyon was defending her. "Dismissed, Lieutenant."

  "Aye, Captain."

  Wulfe glared after Lyon's retreating form. Lyon still seemed far too protective of Cat. Completely, totally unacceptable. A low growl of annoyance and displeasure escaped his throat.

  "Captain?"

  Now what? He could learn to hate that once sought-after salutation. Wulfe turned toward the man speaking, drew a complete blank on his identity. "Yes?"

  "Sebring, Sir. I heard what happened. Wanted you to know Xiang forged the technical authorization he showed to Commander Culver. Nobody checked his fighter after teardown. When I discovered what he'd done, I took the liberty of taking a look at this morning's log. Xiang circumvented the preflight, too."

  "I appreciate you bringing the information to my attention, Sergeant." Wulfe left the bay, weighing his options.

  He hadn't gone more then two decks before realizing he must reclaim his biranium grip on the ship and her crew, but couldn't accomplish that all-important task without clearing away the most troublesome obstacle first. Cat. Her presence distracted him more than any captain should be.

  Wulfe made a quick stop at his office to contact Flemming. He tracked the admiral down without any problem.

  `How does life find you today, son?'

  Wulfe examined the familiar ebony visage of Admiral Flemming on the secured channel and found added creases, more gray hair than black. The recent trouble with the Mallochons must weigh heavily on his old mentor's shoulders, but Wulfe couldn't believe so much time had passed since their last contact. Seemed like months. Or did he simply not recall recent conversations with Flemming? Something else he'd forgotten. "I have had far better days, old friend."

  `I'm not surprised.'

  "I appreciate your efforts on my behalf. Maintaining command of the Falchion is important to me."

  `I know that, Wulfe, but I acted selfishly. Keeping you in the captain's seat is in everyone's best interest.'

  "Roy, I've never asked you for preferential treatment, but I have a problem now
that I believe you can help solve."

  `What do you need, son?'

  Doubts assailed Wulfe. He hated the notion of airing personal business, even to an old friend. "Somehow, my mate managed to get assigned to the Falchion."

  `I'm waiting to hear the problem.'

  "You know we've been estranged for years."

  `Seems to me I told you once to settle the dispute and get on with life.'

  Wulfe didn't recall the useless Earther-type piece of advice. Increasingly uncomfortable, he groped for the right words. "Our problems go beyond that. Cat possesses a unique background. She's not an ordinary science officer. Or flight instructor, for that matter. Her background is...atypical."

  `And impressive, as I recall.'

  "More than you can imagine. Can you get her off my ship?"

  `Is she not capable of working with the pilots?'

  Wulfe's gut tightened as he admitted, "Cat is very capable. Roy, Space Corps must have someone else almost as good and who wouldn't create the problems she is. Has. Will. Narg it, someone without her problematic history."

  `Would that be her history, Wulfe, or her history with you?' A twinkle of amusement glinted in Flemming's eyes. `Or is she somehow harassing the troops?'

  "No, Sir. Damn it, Roy, this isn't funny."

  Flemming scrubbed a hand over his face, massaged a sober expression into existence. `You're right, it isn't, but unless you can give me one solid professional reason to pull Catherine from the assignment, I won't. Give me a call back when you can tell me that reason, and I'll listen.'

  Grim acceptance settled heavily on Wulfe's shoulders as the screen went blank, but the admiral's refusal left a curiously light sensation in the area of his heart.

  CAT PLUCKED earthy-smelling strands of blue moss from the ground beneath her, shredded the soft fibers to dust. Could things be worse? Sadness tried to choke her. Two young, inexperienced men had died because she couldn't keep her mind focused on duty. Regret twisted her insides.

  The near-soundless fall of familiar footsteps reached Cat through the trees and scented plants of the ship's arboretum. She didn't bother lifting her head. She simply turned until her cheek rested against her raised knees. Resigned to Wulfe's censure, Cat tightened her arms around her legs and waited. She briefly considered leaving on a secondary path, decided against running. Evasion wouldn't make the disaster go away. She sat, unmoving, deep in the shadows of the umbrella trees. The weight of guilt multiplied exponentially with each passing second.

 

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