Warrior-Woman

by Mary Ann Steele

  "Instruct my aide to slip in here without knocking, and leave a sandwich and a glass of milk on the table."

  "A hot sandwich," Amin insisted as he took his departure.

  Having reassumed his former posture at his desk, Arlen once again sank into a profound reverie. Signe scored a point , he admitted, nowise given to deluding himself. If Columbia spawned more men like Dahl and Amin, and fewer like Norman and Galt, we'd be far better off. It's a wonder you succeeded in outmaneuvering Galt, who almost certainly instigated the assassination of Leon. You pulled off a risky coup because you command certain loyalties--a gratifying confidence in your ability to lead, on the part of those officials of the civil government least motivated by self-interest. That advantage, none of your four rivals--Galt, Courtney, Norman or Dexter--can boast. That reservoir of trust, plus your abundance of unmitigated gall, tipped the scales in your favor. Well. You need to plan …

  Ten minutes fled into oblivion before a sharp knock again interrupted Arlen's cogitations. Now what in hell … "Come in!"

  Amin's tall figure filled the entry. "You've a visitor who swears to the vital importance of her business, chief. She didn't want to be seen arriving. I've arranged that she wasn't. I'll await her, and escort her back out. May I show her in?"

  Mystified, Arlen rose. Out of old habit, he took up a position so that his desk formed no barrier between himself and the expected caller, who would need to traverse a certain distance in the view of the man awaiting her. That ploy gave a highly trained observer the few seconds he needed in which to study subtle kinesic responses--posture, body-orientation, gestures, facial expression, and eye behavior--of the person entering. "Please do."

  The autocrat's mobile face betrayed no hint of the astonishment gripping him as he beheld the premier courtesan of the capital enter his office. The woman moved with the surpassing grace of a dancer. Glints of gold highlighted wavy brown hair bound in a coil seemingly poised on the verge of tumbling down its owner's back. A few tendrils, artfully arranged to suggest wanton disorder, hung in long spirals. Those eye-catching curls caressed the cheek of a heart-shaped face, the beauty of which imprinted itself unforgettably into the beholder's memory.

  The legendary artist's suit, superbly tailored to accentuate the flair of her hips and the rounded contours of her breasts, flaunted the curvaceousness of her body. The costly fabric, a pale, luminous green, hid nothing of the visitor's erotic appeal. A faint but delicious fragrance wafted about her exotic person as Arlen took both of her hands in his own, and exclaimed, "Adrienne! What a pleasure! Please, sit down. I'll send for coffee."

  Adrienne seated herself. The smile she turned on the military dictator bore no trace of seductiveness. Her cultured voice fell pleasantly on his ear as she urged, "Don't go to the trouble, Arlen¾please. I won't take any more of your time than is absolutely necessary. I debated fiercely with myself before venturing to intrude upon you here, but I decided finally that you'd believe the assurance I gave your captain: that only a matter of crucial importance--one I couldn't trust to any electronic line of communication--would occasion my coming."

  "You worried for no reason."

  The woman's eyes, as darkly blue-green as her host's, betrayed a hint of world-weariness oddly at variance with the serenity of her ageless, lovely face. "Arlen, you've been a guest at my nightly gatherings often enough to know what sort of men make up my circle."

  "The cream of Columbia's power structure: men as intrigued as I by conversation enlivened by the wit and charm of a fascinating hostess." Incapable of lying, the dictator spoke what he perceived to be unvarnished truth.

  "What a compliment, those words, coming from you! And yes, power these days dominates the thinking of the men who patronize my salon, as never before." A flush darkened Adrienne's creamy cheeks, and her eyes hardened momentarily. "Not all who frequent my quarters seek more than conversation, but a good many of those men, at one time or another over the Earthyears, paid handsomely for my services. I've never tried to pry secrets from my clients, Arlen. Never! Any secrets to which I've become privy, I've buried. I most assuredly don't make a habit of intruding on a man who's never been my lover, to confide to him a secret I learned from one sharing my bed! I've never done that, before tonight."

  Her shapely body taut, her eyes suddenly overflowing with bitterness, Adrienne leaned forward in the chair facing her host's. "I wouldn't now, except that the threat hanging over Columbia at this point in our history exceeds in magnitude any our world has ever faced. You're the leader best fitted to see us through that peril. If we lose you, we could succumb while your rivals waste their energies fighting each other. So I bear you a warning, trusting that you won't let slip how you heard it."

  "Rest absolutely assured of that." She's speaking what she perceives to be the absolute truth. You'd better heed her warning!

  "Courtney has engaged for some time now, in distilling poison, drop by drop, into the ear of one of his captains. He has gradually succeeded in discrediting you in the eyes of a man your former peer hopes to maneuver eventually into issuing you a challenge in the presence of an ample number of shrewdly chosen witnesses. Warrior that you are, you'd not prevail against this adversary, any more than would any of your four rivals. If you accept the challenge, you'll die¾and if you coldly refuse to fight a subordinate, you'll stand convicted in the eyes of the beholders, and the men under you, of cowardice: fear of facing Brant across swords."

  "Brant." Arlen's deep voice betrayed none of the cold fury his informant's revelation generated. "You think Brant capable of agreeing to maneuver me into a duel purely to further the ambitions of his commander?"

  "No. I surely don't. Nor does the man setting this trap. Courtney's wily persuasiveness at times approaches yours, but he's not constrained, as you are, by any compulsion to adhere to the truth. To the men under him, Courtney projects a bluff heartiness--a calculated pose hard for them to see through. He's most careful never to be caught in a lie, and so enjoys a totally undeserved reputation for forthrightness.

  "It takes a woman who sees him in unguarded moments, away from his men, to penetrate that mask he's worn until it seems his face. No, he's playing Brant like a finely tuned instrument. Brant's proud, jealous of his honor, and worried about his career. He fears losing command of his ship in some power struggle among his superiors. His fear I judge to be well founded. Courtney deftly worsens it. Brant's action, if--or rather when--it comes, will be the sincere act of a touchy duelist seeking satisfaction for deeply wounded honor."

  Pausing, the woman ventured a bold prediction, knowing this autocrat's capacity to hear truth spoken without giving way to irrational anger generated by wounded pride. "If you try to use your eloquence to persuade Brant that you offered no insult--that the Commander who appreciates his ability and a peer he has no reason to suspect of duplicity both deliberately lied to him--you'll merely succeed in convincing him that you're dishonest as well as craven, and provoke him into escalating the public confrontation fatal to your reputation. Be sure that Courtney will produce a witness to the incident he fabricates to inflame Brant, who won't realize that the Commander of Fourth Corps occasionally covers up indiscretions--even crimes--by subordinates from whom he later exacts a price. Why do you suppose I see your retention of power as so crucial?"

  "I'll end by owing you my life--or my honor, which I value more," Arlen stated gravely, deeply impressed by the worldly woman's penetrating insight, and grateful for the warning. "You're absolutely right. No one of the five of us, including Dexter, could prevail against Brant in a duel. I don't know of anyone who could, since Nigel vanished."

  A vivid image of a tall, lithe figure smiling sardonically at her out of a face remarkable for its ugliness rose to send regret lancing through Adrienne's inner being: regret sufficient to breach for a few seconds the cool detachment she habitually maintained over the impulses of her heart. Mastering that ephemeral upsurge of emotion, she wrenched her mind back to the problem at hand. "You haven't much
time in which to plan your defense, Arlen. Courtney fears that Galt might anticipate him--launch some devious ploy of his own. That might well happen, but at least you've been forewarned of the most imminent danger. I won't take any more of your time."

  "Don't rush off--please. I'd appreciate your answering a question, unless you've some pressing engagement."

  "I haven't. I'm merely reluctant to impose on you."

  "What dire threat do you see hanging over Columbia?"

  "You surely don't suppose that Signe will rest content to disband her military force now that she has driven Norman out, do you, Arlen? Or expect that the hatred Norman bred in his archfoe and her followers will fade any time soon? Or assume that so formidable a warrior won't strive to regain the mine Norman still operates in Gaea? If she succeeds, our world's present glut of the dense metals for which our industries developed a voracious appetite over the term of abundant supply will dwindle to nothing.

  "If the Gaeans gain the slightest inkling of the dangers you face--of your less than absolute grip on supremacy--might they not be tempted to strike before you win the power struggle confronting you? Or does your thinking parallel that of the men who disdainfully dismiss Signe as no real threat, simply because she's a woman?" The smile accompanying that last drawling question grew purely wicked.

  That thrust evoked an appreciative laugh. "Your political acumen never ceases to amaze me, Adrienne. No, I agree wholeheartedly with your assessment, daunting as I find the thought of fighting on two fronts. You've placed me deeply in debt to you for your warning. I'm fortunate that men find you irresistible."

  "I confess to harboring regret that the most attractive man of my acquaintance remains unshakably faithful to his wife." Those words, bearing no provocative nuance whatsoever, emerged as a simple statement of fact accompanied by a smile that warmed the beholder to the core.

  Touched by the woman's honesty, no whit insensible to her potent allure, Arlen replied gently, "I have no needs Karyn doesn't satisfy, Adrienne."

  "I'm keenly aware of that. Karyn's too innocent to realize how unique a man she married. Arlen, please…take care." The courtesan's richly vibrant voice took on a husky note as she uttered her final words. Flashing her host an enchanting smile, she rose.

  Opening the door, the autocrat allowed his guest to precede him into the outer office, where the Captain guarding the entry awaited her. "Amin will see you to your quarters," Arlen declared in a tone that brooked no argument.

  "My pleasure." Death of Earth, might she … A lusty spacer-captain deprived of any commerce with courtesans for a span of eight weeks--an eternity, to Amin's way of thinking--experienced a pronounced stirring in his loins, as with courtly grace he offered the lovely woman his arm.

  Amin's in need , the canny professional shrewdly deduced. Well, now . Smiling up at the high-ranking officer eloquently expressing delight at the prospect of spending time in her company, Adrienne departed with her escort.

  Arlen relieved his aide of the meal he offered. "Dahl, shut down the board, and go off duty."

  "If you're leaving, sir."

  "I'm not, but you are. You've put in thirteen hours of overtime over the last seven days, and fifteen during the prior week. Don't think I haven't kept track. I'm gratified by the way you've handled an onerous job requiring the exercise of tact and discretion. On your next long leave, you'll take the requisite number of hours sufficient to compensate for whatever overtime you've accrued, in addition to the other leave due you."

  Shock melted into gratitude, which showed in the aide's eyes. "That's generous of you, sir." Damned generous, but I need more than a boost to my credit balance. Rot my foul luck …

  "Not generous, Dahl. Fair. I'll lock up when I leave."

  Seated once more behind his desk, the Commander-in-Chief achieved a state of profound concentration. No distraction interfered as he assessed the ramifications of Adrienne's warning, pondered deeply on his future, determined on a bold course, and hatched a plot of his own.

  Seated next to his charge on the cramped bench-seat of an autocab, the aristocratic warrior inhaled the faint scent of her perfume, and drank in the sight of her shapeliness. Smiling, the courtesan remarked, "I appreciate both your considerate reception of an unexpected caller tonight, Amin, and your willingness to see me home."

  "It's seldom that an order coincides so exactly with a man's personal wish. I'd have offered if Arlen said nothing."

  "I believe that, of so gallant a captain."

  "A captain who just returned from eight weeks of duty on the Ice World finds the sight of any woman a pleasure, but to be afforded the chance to converse--for however brief a span--with one whose loveliness sets her apart even in a capital famous for the beauty of its women fills me with delight."

  Adrienne's musical laugh set her admirer's nerves tingling. "What a compliment!"

  "Not at all. I spoke the bare truth."

  "Two polished tributes in succession." A thought impinged. Genuine interest rather than cursory politeness prompted the courtesan to inquire softly, "What's it like, Amin, to view a world-sea of ice on your screens?"

  No hesitation preceded the reply offered by the cultured lover of classical literature who held a coveted military rank. "Unimaginably beautiful," he stated softly. "Forbiddingly, coldly, austerely lovely. A serrated, crevassed, fissured, tortured expanse…a frozen waste reflecting the dim light of the distant sun, and the turquoise radiance of the giant gaseous planet riding the black deeps above the horizon. That brooding presence bulks splendidly huge in the primal night of the void veiled by a myriad of unwinking stars. The onlooker gazes in wonder upon a vast, frigid surface unsullied by man and his works, most of it knowing not so much as the press of a boot. Awesome, the prospect. It drives home to the viewer a sense of his utter insignificance, by emphasizing the ephemeral nature of his collective reign, attesting to the unimportance of his individual flicker of existence, and accentuating his eternal loneliness."

  Smiling into the rapt face of his astonished companion, Amin entreated softly, "That recent experience prompts me to a boldness I might not have mustered otherwise, and impels me to beg the most legendary courtesan in Columbia to grant me an hour of her company, tonight."

  Adrienne found herself at a loss: a situation rare in her experience. She knew exactly the state of her guests' credit balances, and could assess in any given instant whether an applicant could afford an hour--or succession of nights--of her time. Amin, however, had never frequented her quarters. The adept in a demanding profession harbored no wish unwittingly to place Arlen's charming officer in an acutely embarrassing position. She nonetheless refused to compromise her exacting standards. "An hour of Adrienne's time tonight might impose an unwelcome limit on subsequent hours spent in the company of other ladies of the capital," she cautioned, smiling the wicked smile.

  "An hour of Adrienne's company tonight might fill me with such sublime bliss as to free me from any further need," Amin countered, his dark eyes glowing. "But I'd surely hate to gain that inestimable privilege, and find myself afterwards unable to meet my obligation." Cocking his head, he inquired, "What would my obligation be, were I to succeed in persuading you?"

  "Three hundred credits."

  Relief flashed swiftly across the ebony face despite the exorbitance of the sum. The man possessed of the means of gratifying his desire coaxed beguilingly, "Adrienne, think of what comfort the memory you could give me would bring a lonely captain, when next he gazes out on the world-sea of ice! Say that you'll grant me what I so yearn to enjoy tonight."

  A laugh that fell on his ears like chiming bells sent hope surging through the petitioner. "I yield to your persuasive eloquence, Amin," the courtesan replied. "I owe you, for your kindness, earlier--and for the vivid, unforgettable portrait of a world I'll never see, etched into my memory forever by the marvelously poetic power of your words."

  The wistfulness vibrating through the clear contralto voice touched Amin. Taking one of his companion'
s hands in his own, he gently caressed the fingers, his gesture more affectionate than amorous.

  What a gentleman he is! Adrienne mentally commended her escort. I savored the idea of a night free of the necessity of satisfying Courtney's needs--a night to myself. Well … Amin's handsome, personable, and charming. Grateful. Nice change, it'll be, using my arts on a man more appreciative than demanding.

  The automated vehicle threading its way through busy corridors veered out of one of two center lanes, and stopped before the door of a section. In response to a questioning glance, Adrienne nodded. Her client reached a finger to the panel below the front viewport. With a few staccato motions, he programmed the bulbous metal conveyance so as to set it free to respond to a new summons.

  Emerging from his side, Amin walked around the autocab, and opened the far door to assist his fellow passenger to alight into the space reserved for exiting or entering the public conveniences. With proprietary grace, the successful petitioner guided his hostess across the narrow pedestrian lane fronting the facades of the sections. Leaning on her escort's arm, smiling up into his hawk-profiled face, the woman pressed her palm to a small panel on the jamb. The door slid soundlessly open.

  Having stepped within, Adrienne felt arms encircle her from behind. Amin kissed her under one ear, and nibbled her earlobe, prompting a vivid memory to rise from the ashes of the past. Twice, today, I've been reminded forcibly of Nigel , she reflected with renewed regret. Dead, he must be. Lost at space. What a pity!

  Well, this man has gained comparable repute as a lover . When Amin turned her to face him, she slid her hands into the fastenings of his tunic, and slipped the garment down over hard-muscled black shoulders. Her patron welcomed the touch of her tongue on the hairless skin of his chest, a sensation that sent galvanic impulses coursing along quivering nerves. Deftly, carefully, he divested the lovely woman of her tunic. Dropping to one knee, he kissed first one breast, and then the other, his tongue intimately caressing each nipple in turn.