Arlen met his spouse at the door to the lock. No trace of the conflicting emotions racking his mind showed on his face. In accents rigidly controlled, he greeted the woman whose own features plainly reflected a most unwonted determination, and embraced his son. Only after gaining the privacy of his quarters, and instructing the boy to remain in a separate cabin, did Arlen allow his displeasure to show.
Sternly, the autocrat demanded, "Karyn, whatever possessed you, to disregard utterly my explicit injunction that you stay where I know you're safe? You've laid Oliver open to dismissal for gross disregard of my orders. I've enough weighing on my mind right now, without the added worry your presence and Tiryll's poses! You're going back. At once!"
Trained eyes observed unmistakable evidence of an imminent loss of habitual self-control. Desperation lent poignant urgency to the voice that pleaded. "Arlen…please. Not at once. Tomorrow, yes. But tonight… Arlen, it's been so long since… I've missed you so…" Tears spilled down pale cheeks--tears at variance with an expression overtly rebellious.
A familiar scent impinged, bypassing neural channels overlaid on the most primitive center of a brain endowed with a high order of complexity. The image fleetingly entertained earlier expanded into boldly colored, sharp relief. Arlen grew conscious of a stirring in his loins: an urge as primal in origin as his subliminal mental response to the tantalizing odor.
Mastering potent anger, he gathered his wife into a close embrace, to feel hot tears vaporize against the front of his uniform. "Karyn," he murmured reproachfully, stroking her hair as he held her close against his chest. "You think I haven't missed you? And Tiryll? You think I haven't longed for a night in your arms? But not here! I'll try to take the time soon to pay a visit…manage a short stay…"
"You've been too busy to miss me! Too wrapped up in your work to miss either of us! You don't know what longing is!" The ultrafeminine body pressed against Arlen's chest stiffened. Violet eyes met his squarely, challengingly, belligerently.
The vehemence of Karyn's retort shocked her husband. Seldom if ever did she raise her voice. That shrill accusation, totally out of character for a woman who normally bore herself with admirable self-command, and who unfailingly preserved a dignity befitting the wife of a public figure, reverberated off the metal walls of the cabin, filling her spouse with profound dismay. He read more than petulance in his wife's body language. Accurately, he gauged the depth of what he recognized as near-despair.
Guilt washed over him. You miss Karyn at night, he acknowledged with bitter honesty. She misses you constantly. She's got too much time on her hands … she's right …
"Karyn, look at me." The deep voice breathed command. Still mutinous, the matron stared into eyes filled with raw pain. "I am wrapped up in my work. I admit that. I have been, and will continue to be. I can't promise otherwise, but don't make the mistake of assuming that my absorption forces all thought of you…and of my son…out of my consciousness. Karyn, if I didn't cherish you both…love you as deeply as I do…I'd not be able to stand separation from the two people I care most about of any alive. Believe me. But your lives are at risk every moment you both spend here!"
Touched by those words, but no whit swayed from her purpose, the woman regained the best part of her command over herself, but her voice lost none of its unaccustomed insistence. "If the danger here is so great, we could lose you , at any time! Arlen, you want to know that we're safe. Once you do, you thrust us out of mind. But you don't care if I live daily--hourly--with the frightful thought that you could be dying even as I pace the deck worrying about you. Tiryll lives constantly with the same thought. He's growing so fast! He's changing and maturing…without you. Let us share your danger for a few hours…a night! Just a single night! At least after even so short a time with you, I think I'd be able to face the loneliness better."
As his wife's arms tightened convulsively around the Commander-in-Chief, he felt her bosom heave. Intuitively, he divined the overwhelming severity of her distress. You could lose her! Forfeit her regard … her trust … The autocrat's hitherto inflexible resolve to send the first--the only--love of his life back to her refuge without delay, wavered, as the impact of her physical presence on his senses weakened his judgment.
Intuitively aware of her husband's mental agony, Karyn pressed her advantage by turning a tear-wet, beseeching face up to his. His mouth closed over hers. The passionate intensity of his partner's response, the scent of that signature perfume, the sensual warmth of the shapely body melting against him: all combined to vanquish Arlen's resolve. His own unslaked longing for the sound of this woman's voice and lilting laugh, his surpassing need for her presence in his bed, rose in a wave to submerge his fear beneath suddenly irresistible desire. "All right," he whispered hoarsely. "One night. Early tomorrow, Oliver will fly you back. Drastically early tomorrow. But right now…we'll dine…just the three of us. We'll catch up on our visiting, and retire early. Karyn, you don't know…can't guess…how often I've lain awake tossing…wanting you…missing you…"
"I miss you every hour of every day!"
The patent truth of that cry from the heart pierced Arlen's own with swordthrust force.
Two hours spent in soul-satisfying conversation with the radiant wife buoyed by her victory over her husband's scruples, and the son hungry for the company of the father he idolized, drew to an end. Having tucked the boy into bed, Arlen bid him goodnight. Impulsively, the world leader knelt beside the bunk, and brushed his lips across Tiryll's forehead.
Two sturdy arms shot round his neck, and tightened. "Father, I've missed you." That admission came couched in a husky whisper.
"I realize that, Tiryll. Believe me, I've missed you . I want you to know that I'm proud of you, son¾for the manly way you've done your job: studied hard, and cared for your mother. After I've finished doing my job, these separations will come to be only a memory…like a bad dream. Now, slip off to sleep, lad. I'll be waking you early."
"Goodnight, Father." The boy's smile at that moment uncannily mirrored that of the man rising to gaze down at the son in whom he indeed felt pride, and a veritable wealth of love.
As the door slid shut behind him, Arlen beheld Karyn emerge from the shower, and stride unclothed, arms outstretched, into his enveloping embrace. Sweeping her into strong arms, he carried her to his bunk, passion looking nakedly, hotly, from eyes darkened with the intensity of his desire. Hers reflected the need in his. Stripping off his uniform, he dropped on her. He found it no chore to arouse her to a fierce response. When at length both partners lay spent, slack, entwined in each other's arms, an innately considerate lover knew that he had lifted his wife to an unprecedented height of bliss.
Satisfaction flooded his mind. The tiredness he had felt when he forced his body out of his bunk that morning, he recollected only dimly. Physical release combined with the joy the evening afforded him filled him with a sense of languorous well-being. His hands moved over the soft flesh of the woman he loved, in a caress that evoked a long sigh of pleasure from his spouse. "That was marvelous," she murmured. The soft expulsion of breath through the lips touching Arlen's bare skin sent a delicious impulse racing down an obscure neural pathway.
"I love you, Karyn."
The fervor of that impassioned declaration brought conviction the woman did not need. "I know that, Arlen," she whispered. "I've known it for twelve Earthyears. But I wish…"
"This war won't last forever. Once I achieve what I'm on the verge of accomplishing, I'll have rendered Columbia impervious to attack. The war will dwindle to a state of border skirmishes…a periodic testing of defenses. I know the toll my absence continues to take on you…on both of you. That realization tears at me constantly, but six fourweeks…or less…will see a breakthrough. I'll be home far more often, from then on. I promise you that. Muster enough patience during the short time left, Karyn. Soon, the pain attending this enforced separation will fade from memory." She's got no work to absorb her … nothing to occupy a mind obsessed
with fear …
"I'll try to cultivate patience. Truly, I'll try. Arlen…"
Give her memories to cherish . Arlen's mouth closed over his wife's, and for a considerable time thereafter, no words proved necessary.
Dahl lifted at 2000 that night.
At 0230 of the sixth morning, Preston, whom the Commander-in-Chief had recently promoted to the rank of captain, descended to Lock One. The man formerly Amin's lieutenant, having been issued orders to lift and join Evan, headed for the main communications center to report to Merck, the Fifth Corpsman in charge of the command center in Dahl's absence. As he strode away, his second officer set the spacers fueling the ship bound for the Ice World.
In the deeps between worlds, a ship cloaked in blackness akin to that shrouding the starless night of intergalactic space relentlessly absorbed the pallid rays of a distant sun. The intrepid voyager sucked into its very substance the turquoise radiance reflected from the magnificent gaseous sphere holding the fragile artifact on its course. No ghostly observer discerned the tenuous shape of intersecting rings as the invisible construct moved against the star-eaten backdrop of infinity. No capricious Power observed the grotesque, outsized excrescence rising from the central of three lifeboat locks. No inhuman, all-seeing eye noted the strange protuberances disfiguring the graceful, curving sweep of the vessel's heat shield. Alone in the vastness, the hurtling warship black as a mythical spider, and as deadly, plunged in carefully calculated free fall through the vacuum of the void.
Inside the vertical torus rapidly rotating within its protective envelope, Signe sought to relax mind as well as body. Lying full length on the inadequate padding integral to the unorthodox harness fastened to the metal plates of the deck, she surveyed the ranked array of twenty-eight members of her assault force: men and women as uncomfortably accommodated as was she. Theo alertly monitored the screens at the board. Next to him, Malcolm rested, in anticipation of taxing maneuvers to come.
Wong occupied a makeshift couch situated beside the Captain and the Lieutenant. Adrenaline flooded his wiry body as he reviewed one last time the sequence of manual actions he knew he must perform faultlessly once Signe gave the order for the upcoming assault to begin. Exquisitely conscious that thirty-two lives hung on his skill, he forced all thought of his comrades' danger out of his mind, and focused solely on the unnerving challenge facing him.
Reclining between Ryan and Jess, Conor observed the tension stiffening the slight frame of the martial expert. Too soon, Wong, he warned, as if seeking to communicate on an extrasensory band. Relax. You'll tire your brain--dull those lightflash reflexes. Conserve your energy.
Whether by coincidence, or some uncanny touching of two minds momentarily and miraculously attuned, the hunched shoulders straightened, and the stiffly erect torso slumped back against the awkward seat. That's better, lad. No sense spending yourself prematurely . A ghost of a smile fleetingly lit Conor's seamed, scarred face.
Two hours later, Wong marshaled every iota of his formidable computational skill, and exerted to the utmost his superb mind-body coordination. Slim fingers delicately manipulated sensitive controls. Black eyes riveted themselves to a graphic display weirdly different from any hitherto seen aboard a military ship. A wasp-like object, sooty in color, predatory in aspect, separated itself from the central lifeboat lock, and flew in formation with the undetectable ship in synchronous orbit over Chemen. Obedient to the governing intelligence, the eerie entity spiraled downwards in a trajectory parallel with that of the vessel now beginning its descent to the surface of Columbia.
Having activated a control extraneous to the board, Theo stared through narrowed, anxious eyes at the video screens. "It's working!" he hissed at Wong and Malcolm. "The Gaeanite dust is obscuring our exhaust to perfection!"
Wong never heard that exclamation. Mind at a white heat of concentration, he painstakingly guided by remote control the unique vessel built with his own hands, and Inigo's--the ship that once bore two would-be warriors to Main World, to enlist in the force commanded by the leader behind the legend. The wasp-like shape descended slowly, inexorably, towards an aperture open to the void. Wong ceased breathing as he negotiated the unmanned vehicle through the wide circumference of a lock, and watched its graphic image drop at an infinitesimal pace downwards.
Sensors trailing from shielded wires attached to the perimeter of the remotely guided vessel dragged along the deck of the inner lock. Those sensitive devices recorded the final crushing of the ladder melting from the heat of a clouded exhaust, and conveyed with exactitude the steadily diminishing distance separating the base of the invading vehicle from the deck towards which it settled. As the mothership clamped to a lock two hundred meters beyond that penetrated by its unmanned companion, Wong saw his creation come flawlessly to rest on the plates. His heart palpitated wildly. By sheer force of his will, he sat back and audibly inhaled a long, deep breath of air.
"Allow us fifteen minutes," Signe rasped to the operator of the ingenious contrivance. Dropping through the hatch, she led twenty-eight crack raiders towards a rendezvous with destiny.
At 0250, Arlen escorted his wife and son, and the old family retainer profoundly relieved to find that he still held a job, to the narrow corridor giving access to the lifeboat locks. Four contingents of guards patrolled the premises. "I'll say good-bye here," Arlen told his wife. Drawing her against his chest, he kissed her. Having freed her lips, he dropped to one knee to embrace his son. "Take care of your mother, Tiryll," he adjured the boy softly.
"You know I always do that, Father," the child replied stoutly.
"Arlen, take no unnecessary chances," the matron breathed. "And call often."
"I gave you my word," Arlen reminded her. "Oliver, call my board, once you've set down at Dayton."
"I'll do that, sir."
Chin high, shoulders straight, Karyn turned, and walked without a backward glance down the passageway, firmly clasping Tiryll's hand in her own.
After watching for a few seconds, her autocratic husband strode back into the larger thoroughfare he must cross, to enter his ship.
At that moment, a thunderous explosion rocked the deck upon which Arlen stood. An incandescent ball of fire erupted far down the corridor fronting the military locks, momentarily blinding the shocked observer. The harrowing sight abruptly vanished, as seals crashed into place, sealing off the section of the passageway fronting Lock Three. Shouts arose in the near portion: the half so abruptly truncated. A second, more muffled roar followed directly on the first blast.
Realization hit the dictator with stunning force. Signe just struck with no warning! That blast created an impassable barricade! She's after Preston's ship--or mine! Karyn! Lifeboat locks … Signe won't strike those. Lift, Arlen! You can't afford to lose what you've got aboard!
Even as those thoughts flashed through his brain, Arlen acted. Sprinting into Lock Six, he beheld Dahl's lieutenant. "Miles! What in hell's happening?"
"We didn't see a damned thing, sir, but something exploded in Lock Three. The main board's dead."
"Follow me!" Moving with precipitate haste, Arlen mounted the ladder, raised the elevator, and gained the bridge. Dropping into a couch, he stared into the vid.
Blackness blotted out even the stars. A hoarse, Gaean-accented voice issued from the panel. "Don't try to lift, or to fire! I'll annihilate the base! You can't see me, or the ship that just docked! Try to prevent any ship's ascent, and I'll blast you! Hear, Arlen?"
Fury clawed at the Commander-in-Chief's vitals. He made no reply. His face seemingly carven of stone, he watched as a sphere of glowing plasma soared upwards from Lock One. Five minutes later a second exhaust ascended from Lock Two. The latter appeared eerily misshapen: obscured by a cloud of black vapor that all but concealed the incandescence from view. "Signe's shielding the plasma," he grated. "Spewing out a fortune's worth of an exotic rare something, damn her to everlasting fire!"
Ten minutes later, the two vessels vanished. Amin's voice sounded
from the board. "Commander, I'm docking. I can't raise your board. I'm docking, hear? On Lock One!"
Arlen turned to the vid, to behold an ebony face contorted in rage. "I expect that bastard aloft can hear that you're not pursuing," he grated. "Make the descent, Amin. I don't know what happened to Preston, but Signe just made off with his ship."
Having emerged from the lock, Arlen raced across the corridor to the entry of the passageway from which he had so lately emerged. Horror all but paralyzed him, as he saw that a seal barred him from passing the portal. Two white-faced Fifth Corpsmen stood with their backs to the heavy slab of metal. "You can't go in there, sir," one informed his superior with desperate vehemence. "The corridor must be breached."
"No…" The word barely registered on the ears of the guards. One man reached out a hand to steady the haggard leader whose face drained of color.
Pounding feet sounded in the stairwell. Merck burst from the door. "Sir, don't go in there. The explosion in Three breached two of the four main air vents serving the corridors, and blew the pump. The air escaped back down the vents in a matter of minutes--into space--from this corridor, and the one below it. Seals kept the air from rushing out of the rest of the base, except for the breached area around Lock Three."
"My wife…my son…are in there! Were…unless Oliver managed to lift…"
"I've got men deployed to reroute the vents from a spare pump, sir. That'll take some time…twenty minutes." His eyes riveted to the ice-white face of his superior, Merck fell silent, fearing to offer hope that he judged would prove false.
Arlen stood rigidly still, his mind churning. Dead. Karyn's dead. Tiryll is. Dead. You killed them both, by your fatuous willingness to listen to her. Dead! And the base … Preston … Controlling a sudden onslaught of faintness, the Commander-in-Chief clutched at the shreds of his self-possession. You're in command here. Pull yourself together! "Merck. Did Preston survive? What happened?"
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