Warrior-Woman

by Mary Ann Steele

  Grudgingly, the dictator succumbed to admiration for his archfoe. Give credit where it's due, you smarting strategist. Signe refrained from leveling the military complex, or Ministry Main Habitat. You live. You didn't suffer instant annihilation, along with the top men of the civil government and your nearest and dearest, dwelling so dangerously nearby, until you belatedly moved them to Dayton for the duration. You don't lie dead, charred to a black cinder at the perimeter of a wasteland of molten slag. What incomparable conceit, yours! What unconscious effrontery, your assumption of the invulnerability of the heart of your world! Restructure your thinking, Arlen.

  Two undetectable vessels! Signe could have wreaked a fearful vengeance for Norman's depredations. Why didn't she at least blow Lacey's ship, and Danner's? Reluctance to destroy priceless, irreplaceable Earth-built artifacts wantonly, out of savage hatred? She blew Carey's only after hearing him give the order to fire on her prize.

  Gallant, her conduct during that snatch. Her restraint paralleled her sparing Dahl and those hostages she could so easily have sacrificed once their usefulness ended. Refusal to stoop to Norman's calculated brutality? Or unwillingness to goad me into launching a war of extermination? An attack on our capital would have precipitated such universal outrage I'd not have been able to refuse, and stay in command. Signe warned me against committing mass murder of civilians--as if she expected I'd contemplate launching my fleet on that course, in retaliation for the limited strike she led. She lumps me with Norman, damn her cheek!

  Well, I can't blame her. I found the thought of hurling our remaining sixteen ships against her world with precipitate haste tempting, but unworkable. Face it, Arlen. You lack the stomach for ordering the slaughter such a move would entail--lack the criminal mindset necessary to undertake mass murder of civilians on a scale dwarfing Norman's offenses. Signe harbors scruples that match yours, evidently. Well. Unproductive, indulging in retrospect. What to do?

  I need to develop a countermeasure. A means of detecting a ship shrouded in invisibility. How …?

  Determined to find an answer, the Commander-in-Chief forced his supple body to relax, and stretch. Reaching into a drawer, he removed a large datapad, and a stylus. Eyes more remote than ever, he concentrated, focusing the full power of his brilliant intellect on the problem.

  An hour passed, and another. Emerging from a state of intense cogitation, Arlen reached for the slender implement with his right hand, and positioned the electronic device with his left. Long, beautifully shaped fingers plied the stylus, swiftly filling the blank space on the face of the flat, rectangular object with calculations. A touch on a tiny switch at the base caused a blank page to appear. Continued feverish computation at length exhausted the memory of the device. Rising, the user plugged the datapad into his terminal, and saved his computations. Having erased the data from the portable unit, he began anew.

  Four hours later the investigator sat frowning blackly, his whole person radiating acute frustration. Glimmer of an idea, that. Radical notion, but elusive. You've reached a dead end--a blank wall. This problem ought to admit of a solution, but face reality, Arlen. You could spend decades working in vain for a breakthrough, or waste an inordinate amount of time delegating such a task to specialists you'd need to spend precious time recruiting and organizing--not to mention financing.

  You need help: assistance from a mind steeped in an esoteric branch of mathematics new, and dauntingly difficult of comprehension, let alone utilization, even by a man with your background. Who can you … Of course! Who else but the theorist who invented the tool you dimly see as essential to converting your tenuous notion to practical reality? Levi!

  Well. Raise him, Arlen. Summon him here. You can't fire his imagination over the vid. Levi. Of course.

  Two hours later, the checkmated seeker of a workable solution to the problem--a matter engrossing him to the point of forcing out all other concerns--narrowly observed the tall, spare individual entering his office: a man whom Arlen knew personally, but had not seen in many Earthyears. Genuine pleasure reflected from liquid dark eyes set in a face of profound sensitivity, as the newcomer strode eagerly forward with hand outstretched. "Commander, how are you? I'm delighted to see you!"

  You don't change, Levi , the world leader conceded admiringly. As ingenuous as ever--as untouched by petty slights and aggravating stumbling-blocks set in the way of your professional advancement by associates prejudiced against your unique, closely-guarded heritage and jealous of your towering genius . "And I you, Levi. Please, sit down. I've hot coffee at hand. Let me pour you a cup."

  A born aristocrat, this man--in the best sense of that word , the caller applauded mentally as with courtly grace the autocrat served his guest.

  Over the rim of his cup, Levi studied the striking face of his host. Prominent brow-ridges accented deeply set, blue-green eyes shaded by thick brown lashes. Smooth dark eyebrows rose occasionally, in unconscious punctuation of perceived irony. Two pronounced, parallel, vertical lines above the bridge of the nose derived from that tendency. Two deeper creases slanted from either side of a nose lacking classic straightness, drawing the eye of the beholder to boldly contoured cheekbones. Two faint, v-shaped furrows framed a wide, bowed mouth, the lower lip so full as to emphasize the hollow separating it from the firm, cleft chin and lean, strong line of the jaw. Fine, straight, closely cropped brown hair hid nothing of the wide expanse of forehead. The whole countenance exhibited mobility: an ability to express subtle nuances of emotion worthy of a trained actor. Yet the face never lied--a circumstance well known to the visitor scanning it minutely.

  A man of presence, Arlen--uncorrupted by power grasped adroitly and wielded wisely. A decisive but principled leader. What a pity this dismal phase of our history brings to the fore that side of a many-faceted, keen intelligence. Able military officers in a society steeped in a mercenary-fighter tradition far outnumber uniquely gifted researchers. Physicist, physician, psychologist, inventor, this former student of mine--as versatile a mind as da Vinci's--as original as Newton's. Now, what does this dynamic warrior-statesman need with an academician suffering acutely from burnout--a mathematician well past his prime?

  Smiling at the professor whose courses challenged even a man of his intelligence, Arlen began his assault on an obstacle he refused to regard as insurmountable. "I'm stymied by a problem to which I absolutely must find a solution, Levi. Let me explain."

  Lifting a datapad from a pile on his desk, the Commander-in-Chief thrust the device covered with equations in front of his colleague. With fervor that awakened a corresponding excitement in his hearer, he launched into detailed explanations of the dilemma facing him, his glimmer of insight that pointed to a solution, and his need of specialized mathematical aid.

  His scholarly face intent, Levi listened. When the Commander ceased speaking, he perused the calculations. His excitement intensified as he grasped the nature of the problem. A finger darted to the switch, moving a blank page into view. Wielding a stylus with vigorous movements of a sinewy hand, the consultant scribbled computations.

  Fifty minutes later, Columbia's foremost mathematical theorist radiated a frustration matching Arlen's. "This approach won't work," he breathed. "Nor will yours. It's more flawed than mine, although your conception of the application of so unique a breakthrough, should one prove possible, seems sound. I can solve the problem. I'm certain of that, but doing so will take fourweeks: an endless succession of fifteen-hour days spent immersing myself totally in the work."

  "Will you undertake to solve it, Levi? Spend the time--put forth the effort? Assist in a national emergency? Drop your theoretical pursuits--your teaching duties--achieve the breakthrough that'll enable me to design and build the device I envision?"

  Levi's smile warmed Arlen to the core. "Any leader but you would have issued me an imperious order, not a request," he observed accurately. "Yes, I'll undertake the task, and help you later, as far as I'm able, in the practical application." Dust of the ancient pr
ophets! Arlen just offered a challenge I can't refuse. Might it lever me out of my worn groove--re-ignite the old fire? Will I prove able?

  "I appreciate your ungrudging readiness to offer assistance no one else stands capable of giving. Levi, I'll not ask you to do this out of altruism or patriotism. I'll see to it that your reward--financial and professional--exceeds that of the work normally engaging you."

  "Reward!" Astonishment prompted that soft utterance. Your present eminence in no way affects your innate generosity of spirit, Levi acknowledged inwardly. Bleakness surfaced in the theorist's eyes as he shook his head. "I need no reward, Commander. A national emergency takes precedence over personal financial concerns, and you've no absolute guarantee that I'll solve the problem, except my perhaps unwarranted faith in my ability. I'm fifty Earthyears old--past my prime as a creative thinker. I'll do my best for you, but I'd hate to accept any reward before I knew I'd deserved one. Arrange to reimburse the University for the salary of whatever professor the Chancellor hires to substitute for me, and let's put off any talk of other remuneration until we see what success attends my attempt."

  Arlen's deep voice shook with passion. "Levi, your whole professional career has been one of unselfish service! I'm well aware of the obstacles you've fought to surmount--hindrances placed in your path by small-minded lesser intellects calling themselves theorists and professional educators. I've no doubt whatsoever that you'll solve this problem I've set you--and when you do, I'll demand that you accept a reward commensurate with the unique nature of your contribution."

  Shades of the ancients ! "My greatest reward lies in the magnitude of the regard a supremely able former student feels for me, sir." And that's no lie.

  "A regard you deserve, Levi. Well. I'll assign you quarters and an office, and arrange matters with the Chancellor. I stand in debt to you, as does Columbia. I'm recruiting you, as of now, for an indeterminate period of enlistment, into the Special Force. Your rank as my personal technical advisor will equal that of captain, and so will your salary. Your induction will simplify your gaining access to militarily sensitive information, and electronic components."

  "Why…sir…that's most generous of you!" I can't believe what I just heard!

  Levi's positively elated to find himself abruptly torn from his peaceful academic life. Why? I'd have thought … "Not generous--fair. It's the least I can do, and not all I intend to do. I'll make the demand I mentioned, when you complete the task. Until then, don't hesitate to ask for any special aid or equipment you need, or my personal services as a consultant with regard to the physics involved in my glimmer of an idea."

  Sliding the door closed in the wake of his newest recruit, Arlen experienced a surge of hope. If anyone can find a solution, Levi's the man, he congratulated himself. And he's eager. Past his prime? I'm thirty-six. Will I feel jaded at fifty? I hope not!

  The taut frame of the man whose mind characteristically raced ahead of his motor system relaxed at this juncture. Well, Arlen, you need to outfit yourself with a specialized laboratory you can move at a moment's notice. Your personal vessel. That Earth-armed ship you reserved for your own use, despite the shock your captains strove to conceal, and the wrath your rivals prudently refrained from expressing to your face.

  Yes. And you need high-handedly to seize the three Earth-built passenger vessels that once plied interworld routes. Enlist the help of the First Minister for those acquisitions--make use of Neville's talent for diplomacy. Three orbital forts-, and your perfected device. Assume that you will perfect it. Signe will find herself permanently shut out of the space around Columbia. Perhaps she'll die annihilated in the process of discovering our invulnerability, fighting as she does in the forefront of any strike she launches. Damned if I'm not forced to admire her unbelievable courage! So. You've work enough facing you to keep three men busy for a fourweek.

  Five hours later, the Commander-in-Chief rose, stretched, ate a standard meal, and headed for Fifth Corps' Infirmary, where he looked in on Lacey.

  Having awakened some twenty minutes earlier from a long spell of unconsciousness produced by the drug known as sleep inducer, the Captain severely wounded during the recent raid fought an uphill battle against an overpowering lassitude with the same characteristic tenacity that had kept him on his feet after taking so wicked a thrust.

  Smiling into the ruggedly handsome face of the man whose narrow escape from death still sent chills chasing down Arlen's spine, the visitor noted the tight set of Lacey's mouth, and the sickly hue disguised by the coppery cast of the Captain's skin. "Awake, I see," Arlen greeted him. "Feel up to talking?"

  "That's about all I can do, right now, sir. My ship. Did Signe…"

  "No. She refrained from blasting either yours or Danner's--coolly demanded that I issue an order forbidding either captain to fire on those she captured. The two ships in which she and her raiders arrived we found to be utterly undetectable. Nothing shows up on scanning screens--not the slightest shadow. I therefore allowed her prizes to lift. She could have annihilated two Earth-armed vessels with ease, but she acted with a gallantry I'm forced to admire even as I seethe at the losses we sustained."

  "Two ships…both undetectable…" Stunned, Lacey gasped, "So that's why…"

  "That's why she took Marcel and yourself so completely by surprise. Besides, she ought to have run short of fuel while conducting those maneuvers at the Ice World."

  "I couldn't imagine…" Arlen saw relief flood the black eyes riveted to his. "Perhaps Signe intended to run both ships utterly dry, sir…employ as fuel the water-shielding that protects against cosmic radiation…chance the harm her doing so would expose those aboard to sustaining."

  "Perhaps, but even so, she risked utter disaster. Lacey, how many men hit that lock? Can you make any sort of estimate?"

  Frowning, the survivor strove to recall the details of the fight. "Signe herself led them…a goodly number. A ship's full complement…or more. The scar-faced swordsman who dropped Lindsay had to have been Conor. A redhead holed me…a young man. Commander…some of those raiders…were women ." Shock looked nakedly from the eyes of a warrior whose every instinct prompted him not only to spare noncombatants of either sex, but also to act chivalrously towards any woman: friend or foe.

  Arlen precisely gauged the magnitude of that shock. Problem, that cultural difference will prove , he reflected bitterly. The worst of us precipitated a situation the best of us will find emotionally difficult to handle . "Signe descended in one black ship, and left the other tailing Rafael. She had to have fielded more than twelve fighters. It's possible she docked the other vessel first--disgorged a force, and then lifted again--but not probable. Damn! Strategist, that infernal woman."

  "Signe ran Marcel through. He's dead…has to be…right…?"

  "He is. Lindsay's alive--barely. He sustained two thrusts: one minor, and one nearly fatal. The raiders killed three of his cargo spacers, and wounded three others. The Gaeans took the remaining five men prisoner--hauled them along when they stole the full load of ice. Marcel's crewmen all died at the scene. You're lucky, Lacey."

  "I should've…killed that damned redhead…" Black anger freighted the invalid's harsh whisper.

  "You likely took on the third or fourth best swordsman in Gaea, Lacey, and survived. Be glad of that. Now, concentrate on getting well, and on following Ahearne's orders. Fine physician, he is. I'll look in again, tomorrow."

  "I…appreciate that…sir." Exhausted by the effort to talk, the patient closed his eyes, and drifted into a doze.

  Arlen strode out. It's a good thing Lacey didn't ask the full extent of our losses , he reflected dourly. No sense unnecessarily depressing a man wounded as severely as he is. Well. I've deployed the remaining fourteen ships of the Special Force around both Columbia and the Ice World, and initiated stringent measures to prevent that blasted woman from ever again taking a ship's crew by surprise.

  Should I deprive Galt of his one remaining first-class military ship? No. We still face t
he likelihood of raids by renegades--by that damned brute Chapell, who'll seize every possible advantage offered by a national emergency. In fact, I'd better transfer to Second Corps that new second-class military vessel fresh out of the shipworks. Its crude armament can't harm Chapell's ship--vessel of the same class, his--but it's all I can do.

  Only Gelett's getting wiped with all of his crew by Signe and her raiders--of Galt's senior captain's coming off no better than Marcel and Lambert--prevented my suave rival from stirring up a storm of criticism sufficient to undermine my hold on power to a fatal degree. As things stand, I'm less secure than I was. Damn! That pernicious woman will attack again, soon. Safe bet, that.

  What's driving her? Not revenge--not a desire to wage all-out war. She's bent on acquiring a fleet of Earth-armed military ships. Is she contemplating eventual conquest? A well-planned, relatively bloodless assumption of control of Columbia, rather like the coup I staged? That could be. Our populace, crowding a belt girdling a single planetoid, offers Signe an opportunity denied me. Impossible undertaking, conducting such an operation against a citizenry scattered over thirty-nine inhabited rocks.

  Norman benefited from the dual elements of surprise, and a pacifistic tradition that rendered Gaea's citizens wholly unused to bearing or wielding arms. The Gaean leadership held to the Convention. They built no weapons capable of killing at a distance. We broke that agreement, never abrogated, which Johann's successor negotiated between the first Gaeans and the first Columbians. The Gaeans even refrained from forging the swords the Convention allowed. That initial handicap renders Sigurd's and his warrior daughter's achievement all the more astounding.

  And now, she's decentralized her government. Amin and Evan deduced that, picking up the communications emissions of her civilian officials. Signe commands not only five Earth-armed ships, but also a crack force of veterans: men boasting greater experience in bloody hand-to-hand fighting than do yours. Men, Arlen? Men and women. Damn!