Signe's reflexes equaled Conor's in swiftness. Forcing from her mind hatred, outrage, searing pain, and vitriolic anger, she concentrated on one overmastering, savage necessity: to kill in retaliation--to blast the enemy capable of such incredible black treachery. Aiming the weaponry manually, she waited, her mind operating with surreal clarity. When the chance offered, she fired, even before Conor's exhortation reached her ear. A Columbian military ship vanished: annihilated in a blinding burst of light the twin of that which minutes earlier killed Sean and Yuri.
No other chance offered. Having glanced at his fuel gauge, Conor bowed to bitter necessity. Still focusing every faculty, mental and physical, on maneuvering to evade the two ships in hot pursuit, he headed back to Gaea.
"Eric! Man the weaponry!" Signe grated. Harsh commands to annihilate the Gaeans issuing from the military band broke off abruptly as the Commander switched to the little-used commercial frequency she employed when some crisis made verbal communication a necessity.
Morgan, Wong and Jassy, reeling with shock, heard the announcement delivered in a voice radiating incandescent fury. "Attention! Arlen just blew Sean's ship! Right on the lock! He used the weaponry of an Earth-armed ship! Killed two men he'd just given his word would be allowed to dock, meet with him, and leave! Blatantly committed an act of callous, premeditated perfidy! Damn his soul to the mythical fire! I trusted his word! The bastard never wanted peace! We've only fuel enough to get us home! You three watch yourselves! We destroyed one enemy vessel, but eleven Earth-armed ships hunt you! Keep us informed over the voice-coder!"
Signe tuned the transceiver to that frequency, and so never picked up the expostulations of shock, outrage, and anger equaling her own, which issued from the captains hearing Amin's wrathful explanation. No vessel--commercial or military--heard the impassioned version of the tragedy that Signe transmitted over that little-used frequency. No instructions came to the Special Force from the surface.
Amin visualized Arlen's instantaneous demise. On the screen of his mind, he saw a crater-lake of molten slag form below the location where Fifth Corps' Headquarters transmuted into an expanding sphere of radiant energy. Curbing his rabid desire to destroy every Gaean ship between his force and the Gaean Group, he acted on the black certainty that he had better keep the Special Force close to his world, in case either Galt, or Dexter, or both, took advantage of the opportunity to seize power on the surface. Snapping curt orders to his subordinates, he left Lacey in command of the Special Force, and docked. Only then did he realize that Fifth Corps' Headquarters remained unscathed.
Within Fifth Corps' communication cabin, Arlen stood watching the board as Sean's ship descended. Automatically, he scanned the graphic displays, taking note as Sean's Gaean-accented, unemotional voice announced, "We've sealed to the lock. We're preparing to…"
The fearsome blast--a rapidly expanding sphere of raw energy, which annihilated Sean's vessel and caused a crater-lake of slag to form where the lock and its environs formerly stood--killed Norman and twenty Third Corpsmen instantly. Tightly focused, unimaginable energy designed to be launched at a target from afar, directed straight downward by a vessel clamped securely to a lock a negligible distance above the solid surface of a planetoid, rocked Fifth Corps' Headquarters to its foundations. The deck rippled beneath the feet of those standing, sending them sprawling. The walls perceptibly wavered. A titanic explosion all but deafened the stunned men knocked into a tangle of bodies on the still-vibrating deck. The sound of seals crashing into place across the entrances leading to the military corridors assaulted ears still ringing from the initial din. The air heated perceptibly. The board went dead. The lights failed.
Dim emergency lighting revealed thunderstruck faces staring wildly at each other as the men scrambled to their feet. "The Gaeans!" Orloff gasped, speaking the thought of all.
"Keep calm, gentlemen," the Commander-in-Chief ordered imperiously. "Fulke, dispose your men so as to find out what's going on outside. The rest of you, stay put, until we're certain no new attack is imminent." Arlen's deep voice, icily level, resonant with authority, galvanized Fulke into action even as it froze the others in place.
Galt's fingers still gripped a small device hidden in a pocket. Relaxing his hold, he withdrew that hand in which he now clutched a square of cloth. Wiping his brow, he drawled sardonically, "They missed you, Commander, but they can hardly have failed to kill Norman."
"It would seem so." Dust of my ancestors! Signe did this . Signe!
Fulke returned after five minutes. "That ship must have fired its weaponry at the surface, while clamped to the lock, sir. No other ship took damage. Seals shot into place, and held. No installation suffered a lethal drop in pressure but the military corridors. Norman and the honor-guard are presumed dead. I've got officers assessing how many other corpsmen died. Likely not many. Norman had his route pretty well cleared. Why in hell did she do it?"
Silently, Arlen pondered that question. Did Norman form the magnet for this obscene attack? Did I ? Did both of us serve as targets? If so, why did those two thrice-damned Gaeans wait till they docked? Why didn't they blast us from above, as they descended? But they'd have died almost instantly in that case as well. Amin's spacers would have targeted them manually--blown them before they could abort the descent, or re-aim the weaponry. They didn't know how far away this installation is from the military locks. If they thought my headquarters directly adjoined the locks, as did Norman's, in Gaea, they likely figured they'd kill me as well.
Damn! Signe set this up! Employed the same sort of fanatics as she used to land that lethal outfit in Lock Three at Chemen! Signe!
All these Earthyears, I've admired that woman's gallantry! Honored her, for her steady refusal to employ her weaponry against civilians! Well--she didn't today. But they lied! Signe deliberately, callously, violated a truce! Sent me a pair of fanatical, lying assassins!
At that moment, Arlen's regard for his archfoe took a mortal thrust. A most inexplicable regret washed over him. I deemed Signe a chivalrous enemy , he railed inwardly . She's no better than Norman! Well, she revenged herself on him, all right. Damn her to slow rot!
Arlen spoke, striking chills into Paige, who had stood mute, aghast at the thought of what his acting as intermediary might bring down on his head. "Signe evidently sent me a suicide mission, gentlemen, which targeted Norman, my own self, and three of my Commanders. Had the Gaeans gained all of those objectives, they would have thrown our military establishment into dangerous disarray." Eyes cold as the deeps of space impaled the shaken engineer. "Well, Paige, your estimate of those men's motives proved vastly erroneous!"
His face working, his heart thudding, the engineer nonetheless met Arlen's baleful eyes squarely. "Sir…I believed them to be men of honor. I simply can't…"
Sturdy faith in his judgment overrode stark fear. Frantically, the man cast about for an alternative explanation. Hoarse with emotion, he queried, "Could that blast have been some ghastly accident? I'd have staked my life… I did stake my life, waiting here with all of you! I simply can't imagine either of those men to be capable of an act of gross treachery!" Conviction clearly infused that adamant assertion.
Gripped by cold rage as he was, Arlen yet noted all the kinesic evidence that the engineer spoke exactly what he thought. "I know you to be sincere in what you say," he conceded grudgingly. In a tone less accusatory, he added, "I didn't expect such perfidy myself, of a leader I admired until today. If anyone's to blame, I am. You face no reprisals from me, Paige. You're free to leave."
Taking that as dismissal, the civilian withdrew in haste, before the dictator whose authority extended to ordering him spaced changed his mind.
"Fulke, Galt, Orloff, see to your headquarters, and assess the damage. Report to me as soon as possible."
"Yes, sir." Three men replied simultaneously.
Vastly relieved by his cognizance that Arlen's attention had been focused on Paige, and not on the subordinate striving to conceal smug el
ation, Galt strode away. That madman's device worked like a charm , he gloated. Arlen never suspected a thing. Well, that blast will scotch the possibility of any negotiated end to the war. Permanently!
Amin entered as the three officers left, his ebony face grim as death. As he beheld the man he had earlier assumed to be dead, his heart hammered, and his chest constricted. Gripping Arlen's hand, he all but crushed it. "When I saw that sphere of light erupt on the vid, I felt certain those damned envoys had leveled Fifth Corps' Headquarters," he rasped. "I judged that the blast had to have occurred right above, or directly on, the locks. I figured you'd bought it!"
Despite the fury gripping him, Arlen divined the extent of Amin's mental turmoil.
"The Gaeans flew a ship fairly close in," the eyewitness asserted. "One that balanced on its exhaust, and observed the descent. Three of us attacked it, seconds after the blast. The man at the helm dodged with more skill than I'd have believed any Gaean could muster. He targeted Yukio's ship, and got clean away when three other enemy vessels intercepted those of us pursuing. I'd have harried them back to Gaea, had I known you were still alive, Commander, but I figured that if you'd died in the blast, Galt or Dexter might pull some instant coup."
The listener's gut convulsed. "Yukio's dead?"
"Yes, sir. He and all his crew."
Rage looked nakedly out of Arlen's eyes. Signe sacrificed one of her Earth-armed ships, but she evened the loss. Damn! Yukio! A man I valued highly! Why in hell …
Forcing a torrent of black anger out of his consciousness, Arlen reviewed everything he knew of the assault. Paige spoke the truth as he saw it, and what an opportunity for either Galt or Dexter, if the enemy had wiped me! But Galt would have died, as surely as I would have, had those thrice-damned assassins blown Fifth Corps' Headquarters. Dexter would have been the only Commander to survive. "Amin, are you absolutely certain that no ship on our locks annihilated that Gaean vessel?"
"Arlen, I was sitting with my eyes glued to the vid, directly above the ship descending. Had another ship fired on the Gaeans across the locks, I'd have seen an elongated brightness, not a sphere. No pulse shot across the two hundred meters or multiples thereof separating the two vessels. Two Earth-armed ships rested on the locks: Evan's, and your own. You know damned well that Evan didn't violate the truce!" That bold, impassioned reply Arlen recognized as an exhortation hurled by his oldest friend, not by a subordinate.
So I do , Arlen silently admitted as he nodded.
"Five second-class ships--three belonging to Fourth Corps, one from Fifth, and one from Second--rested on their respective locks. The ship from Second was closest to the one that blew. It might have sustained damage. But whatever the source, that blast damned well issued from an Earth-built weapon!"
"So…the envoys loosed the pulse. I can't imagine their doing it by accident. 'We're preparing to…' Preparing to fire, that bastard must have meant! Did the Gaeans aloft attack you when they heard those words?"
"We attacked them. They never broadcasted a single word over the military band--then, or later. After failing to score, I called off the chase, thinking I'd better keep the Special Force close in. I thought you dead, Arlen!" Expressive eyes eloquently testified to the depth of the fear that had gripped their owner.
Touched, despite his wrath, by that glimpse into Amin's soul, Arlen admitted glumly, "I never expected such perfidy of Signe. Never! I'm to blame for allowing her supposed envoys to dock in an Earth-armed ship. I suppose I ought to thank the Powers that they didn't slag the entire military complex!"
Evan's large bulk filled the doorway. "Sir, I just heard you're all right. I thought…" The brawny warrior strode in, his rugged face wreathed in vast relief.
"Evan, were you aboard?"
"No, sir. I was ashore, in a corridor not far from the locks--on leave, sir. Tilden and Warton were aboard, relaxing in their cabin. They rushed to the board--thought the ship might shift off the lock. The shock wave from the blast rocked it violently. They saw that glowing crater, and figured Signe must have attacked in force. While Warton manned the weaponry, Tilden tried unsuccessfully to raise Fifth Corps' Headquarters. He called the orbital fort, and heard the details from Lacey. I got there right then. I had a hell of a time circumventing the area sealed off. Lacey ordered me to report to you, and see whether you need help. Tilden and Warton wait outside, sir."
If ugly supposition surfaces, that pair of same-sex lovers can bear incontrovertible witness under truth compeller that no Fifth Corpsman loosed the blast from the bridge of Evan's ship , Arlen noted with relief. "Evan, find out what the men guarding my personal vessel saw. Report back to me here."
Alone once more with his oldest friend, the autocrat remarked bitterly, "I appreciate your concern for the idealistic fool who let this happen."
Laying a comforting hand on his superior's shoulder, the Acting Commander urged softly, "Don't take all the blame on yourself, Arlen. Norman earned the Gaeans' mortal enmity. It wasn't as if he were an innocent victim. Neither were his guard of veterans, I'll wager."
"Perhaps not, but he died doing the duty I laid on him--died through my miscalculation. I find myself regretting that aspect, at least. Well. Keep me closely informed of what transpires on our perimeter, Amin."
"I most certainly will."
Evan arrived back shortly after Amin departed. "The guards outside your lock sustained injuries when the blast occurred, sir. They've been taken to Fourth Corps' Infirmary: the one nearest. The two men mounting guard on your bridge activated the board after the blast rocked your vessel, but they saw exactly what Tilden and Warton did--a crater brimful of slag. They raised Lacey when they couldn't get through to Fulke's officers. He told them to withdraw the air from the inner lock, and stand by for orders. I had to contact Lacey myself, to get those rescinded, so that I could go aboard."
"I see. Evidently the envoys did this themselves, on Signe's orders--or at least, with her consent. They violated the truce so as to kill Norman."
Evan's granite face and brawny body radiated wrath. "Damned treacherous bastards--sir."
"So it seems. How badly were the guards hurt?"
"The shock wave hurled them into a wall. They sustained severe bruises, and burns from the heat, before the seals closed. Painful, the burns, but not life-threatening."
"Well. Report to Fulke, Evan. I expect he needs all the help he can get, about now."
"Yes, sir. Tilden's rounding up my crew. I figured we'd be needed."
Having snapped a salute, Evan departed. After brooding for a span of seconds, Arlen resolutely squared his shoulders before striding out prepared to hear the reports of what he knew to be catastrophic damage.
Morgan heard Signe's impassioned accusation with stunned, disbelieving shock. Pain enshrouded him, searing his affectionate heart. Oh, no! he cried in his mind. No! Not Sean! No! His poor mother … Tears burned behind the warrior's eyes, even as he maneuvered his ship. Consumed with a feral desire to kill, he recklessly expended precious water as he strove to take out a Columbian vessel while dodging the enemy's fire.
Luke, his eyes on the board, nonetheless sensed the white heat of his captain's incandescent wrath. Cursing under his breath, the second officer grasped the controls of the weaponry, hoping desperately to succeed in obliterating the foe whose third pulse narrowly missed its target. His lean, tough face contorted in fury, he fired four times, but failed to hit the enemy. "We're running low on fuel, Morgan," he grated through clenched teeth, frustrated beyond bearing by his failure to score.
"I see that. Those miserable bastards are withdrawing to their haven¾perish their accursed souls! Damn that foul brute whose word's a glib joke! We've no help for it, Luke. Head for home."
Signe sat between Eric and Conor, her eyes filmed with tears of pure rage. "I let them go, Conor! Your judgment was sounder than mine. I sent Sean and Yuri to their deaths! The gall of that smooth-tongued brute! Arlen passed his word--lied, in the hearing of his entire force of men! How can they
serve a bastard of that stamp? How could a man like Dahl respect him? Well, Dahl served Norman. They're all alike! Rotten to the core--to the bone! Why did I think there was ever a chance? Damn my stupidity! Will I never learn? Arlen's as vile as Norman! A worse backstabber! Fully as callous! Damn him to endless fire--perpetual torment!"
The intensity of the hatred mirrored in the warrior's blazing blue eyes shocked Conor. Sensing that such corrosive venom posed a danger to the mind harboring it, he considered what he might say, but found no words adequate to his need. Staring into the oval face contorted with passionate fury, he made no reply.
Eric waited until the Commander's initial wrath spent itself, waited until she fell into seething silence, before countering evenly, "Signe, you acted on tenable, solid grounds. You made a judgment I saw as reasoned. We don't know for certain that Arlen's responsible. It's just possible that one of his rivals for power blew Sean's ship, and Arlen with it. Three commanders waited with him, not four. The absent man could have done this as part of an attempt to overthrow a military dictator. Even if Arlen survives, we won't know but that he only escaped dying by the span of a molecule.
"Signe, I feel as devastated as you do, over the deaths of two comrades for whom I cared deeply, but even as I sit here filled with anger and grief, I find it hard to believe that a man could so change in a few Earthyears as to lose all concern for his honor--break the word he gave in the hearing of all his men."
Glaring at the Senior Captain through eyes narrowed to slits, Signe rasped, "Let's suppose you're right. Why isn't Arlen striving to raise us now? Making voluble protestations that the offenders are being punished?"
"Perhaps he's dead."
"If he is, we'd better prepare for an invasion," Conor warned harshly.
"Either way, we'd better prepare for an escalation of the hostilities," Signe asserted, her eyes still smoldering. "Eric, I admire your idealism. It's hard for a man himself the soul of honor to believe a leader capable of the perfidy we just witnessed, but I sadly fear that we've underestimated Arlen's capacity for treachery. Even if the bastard's dead, all chance of a negotiated settlement's ended. Permanently!"
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