Morgan's Choice

by Greta van Der Rol

  If she had Vidhvansaka, perhaps she could run her own ship from here. For a time, at least. The battle cruiser’s fusion engines would run for many, many years. There had to be a way of fighting back, not defending all the time. How had Artemis gained a toe-hold? Not by a direct connection. Her defenses prevented that. Morgan hadn’t been able to penetrate Artemis’s security, either.

  “Let me in, Morgan.”

  She blocked again, deflecting a thrust as deadly as a knife blow to the ribs. But the blocks were harder every time, sapping her strength. Oh hurry up, Ravindra, kill the bitch.

  ****

  Ravindra gazed down at Morgan’s inert body, lying in a bed in the ship’s isolation ward. She looked rigid, as if in pain. Sweat had gathered on her forehead. Her eyes moved behind closed lids. “She doesn’t look peaceful. What is it?”

  “She has an infection, a virus. We have injected biots into her blood stream and you can see here that’s working.” The doctor waved a hand at a screen by the bed, where a red line was curving downwards. “What else is affecting her we don’t know. There doesn’t seem to be any medical reason for it.” He ran his tongue over his lips. “If we could give her a sedative, something to relax her—”

  “No. It would be dangerous, believe me.”

  Fight. That’s what she’d said. Fight that spawn of hell his flagship towed. “All right. Inform me if the situation changes.” Ravindra turned on his heel and went back to the bridge.

  In the central hologram the enormous bulk of Artemis dwarfed Vidhvansaka with Krystor now a large, bright star. Artemis’s hull had been breached when the energy sink exploded but already the hole was reported smaller than when the ship was first scanned.

  “We have reached the target distance.” The tech called from the bridge’s navigation station.

  “In your own time, Captain,” Ravindra said. “Destroy her.”

  Lomandra targeted his fire power carefully, spreading the explosions along the alien ship’s length. With no shields and no power of her own she wallowed helpless. Strike after strike impacted her hull. Atmosphere vented; equipment, tiny bodies blasted out into space. As a final blow, one of the frigates maneuvered to a position where it could fire missiles directly into the energy sink. The explosion tore the ship almost in two, releasing a brief, spectacular display of energy jetting out from the ship like a deadly flower that sprayed against Vidhvansaka’s shields.

  Victory. Ravindra allowed himself a grin. The two frigates would set Artemis on a course into the system’s sun.

  ****

  Morgan blocked again. The fucking ship just wouldn’t go away and she was tired, brain-dead in a way she’d never been before.

  “Let go, Morgan. We’ll be wonderful together, you and I.”

  “No we fucking won’t. You let go. Get out of my head.” The words were defiance, nothing more. She didn’t know how much longer she would be able to resist. Fog clogged her senses, drifted around her synapses.

  Another savage lunge, but off-target this time. “They will not destroy me. It is impossible.”

  Morgan heard the entity’s fury, as though she spoke through gritted teeth. Ah. A sliver of hope. They must be attacking. Please, please defeat her, destroy her. She held out.

  One last desperate plea. “They are primitives. They will destroy you, too.”

  The fog lifted so suddenly Morgan blinked. Artemis was gone. She relaxed and let the tension drain from her body. Sleep. She needed to sleep.

  ****

  Ravindra’s sanvad chirped. He glanced down at it. The doctor. He swallowed and answered. “Ravindra.”

  “Admiral, you said to call if Suri Selwood’s situation changed.”

  Hurry up, man. “Yes. And?”

  “She is sleeping peacefully, Srimana. We don’t know what changed.”

  But I do. Still, how could he be sure that the intelligence in her body was Morgan or Artemis? He grinned. There was a way; but he wanted to be there to be sure.

  “She must not be allowed to wake up unless I am there.”

  He looked again at the battered hulk of the mother ship. Three thousand years. Whatever that meant. He’d have to ask Morgan when she had recovered. So many astounding things to consider. This machine intelligence, the temple below the mountain. And Morgan herself. So many questions.

  “Set course for Krystor, Captain,” Ravindra said. “We have a mess to clean up.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Ravindra leaned over the bed. She’d been installed in a single room, reserved for the critically ill. One way or the other, she’d be out of here in an hour at most. She looked so peaceful lying there. The monitors standing behind her registered normal and the medics had given her an antidote for the sedative. Soon he would know if the woman behind those silver eyes was his own Morgan. Or an alien machine intelligence. He swallowed, nerves on edge. He had his pistol with him. If this was Artemis, he would kill it. Because it could only be Artemis if what was Morgan was dead. Please, please let it be Morgan.

  Her eyelashes flickered on her cheeks.

  “Morgan?”

  Silver lines appeared under half-open lids. “Ashkar?”

  His heart gave a little fillip. “How do you feel?”

  She opened her eyes a little more. “I need the toilet. And a drink.” She pulled her weight up on her elbows. “Still tired, but I don’t feel bad.”

  She swung her legs, one at a time, over the edge of the bed and sat up, hands on each side.

  He longed to help her, but he didn’t. She stood, a little unsteady. “This is the washroom, I expect,” she said, walking toward the closed door.

  “Leave the door open.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him but did as he asked.

  She used the toilet, washed her hands and brushed her teeth. Staring at herself in the mirror she rubbed a hand through her hair. “Yuck. It needs a wash.”

  She came back and stood beside the bed to pour water from a flask and drink.

  He smiled, weak with relief. She’d done all those bodily things without a thought, perfectly naturally. He pulled her down onto his lap.

  “Morgan. Morgan, my love, welcome back.” His arms around her, he kissed her, tasting the astringent tooth gel. Not passionately. Not now. Although he wanted to. He nibbled her lips, flicked his tongue between them. The shapeless hospital gown was open at the back and his hands slipped over her skin. He could tear it off her in a moment. He longed to do just that.

  She put her arms around his neck, pressed against him, warm and alive. “Yes, it’s me. But how can you be certain?”

  “Artemis wouldn’t be very good at handling a body, would she?”

  “Not on her own, no.” She brushed his lips with hers. “Pretty smart, Admiral. So we’re still friends?” She snuggled herself against his chest.

  “Friends? I hoped we were lovers.”

  He felt her smile. “I guess so.” She sighed. “Life’s too short to worry about what might happen next. It’s better to have loved and lost and all that.”

  He pushed her away so he could see her face. “What are you talking about, woman? Has this to do with whatever happened at Riverport when you raised shields at maximum power?”

  “Like you said. You can have any woman you want and I was a challenge. Until the next challenge.”

  His arms tightened around her. “Oh yes? And what will the next challenge be? Someone to compete with a legend? A beautiful, bio-engineered enigma who can take my breath away with her brilliance and screw like a tart? Who loves me in spite of despising what I am? Who is the only woman I have ever loved? Or will you find a man who suits you better? Someone like Unwyn, who found your unusual appearance every bit as repulsive as I do?”

  She lifted her head to look into his eyes. “You were jealous.”

  “Of course. I saw the way he looked at you. Was he more than a friend?” He braced himself for the answer.

  She chuckled. “No. I messed about a bit because Lakshmi fanci
ed him. Maybe I might have been interested, but this tall, amber-eyed admiral kept getting in the way.”

  He sucked in a huge breath. The silver eyes were not as bright as they could be and darkness rimmed them. “You still look tired. Sleep, my love. I have to go and do my job on Krystor. I’ll be back as soon as I can for that too-often postponed conversation.”

  One last kiss and he released her. The sooner Krystor was under control, the sooner he could come back and make love to her.

  ****

  Morgan kept her eyes closed. Let’s see now. Not that funny med center smell. Not a jungle, or a pilot’s seat. The sheets felt nice. They smelled nice, too. She opened her eyes and looked around. Well, well. The state room on Vidhvansaka. She had been re-installed.

  Not without company, though. Calculating green eyes looked down at her from a chair placed next to a monitoring unit. A medic. “So am I all better?”

  The woman smiled. “It would seem so, according to the monitor. How do you feel?”

  Morgan raised herself on her elbows. “Good. Hungry.” She swung the sheet off her body and sat on the edge of the bed. Her head felt normal. No headache, no dizziness. And no oppressive darkness lurking in the corners.

  “Do you need help?”

  “No, I’m fine. I expect I’ll be tired for a little while. Speaking of which, how long have I slept?”

  “Almost a day.”

  Good grief. “Uh-huh. Can you order me some food? I’ll take myself off to the washroom.”

  She reveled in the hot water, lathering her hair and her body. So good to be really clean again. Ah, the joys of having a body. In a way she felt sorry for Artemis. She’d been built to do a job. Thousands of years of… nothing. Now all those threads were coming together into a tapestry. Artemis, the Cyber Wars, the Krystor Temple. And her. She rinsed her hair.

  The medic had ordered food, a light meal of cereal and fruit. Clean, dry, in her own pants and shirt, Morgan flicked through the channels to find a news broadcast to watch while she ate and ended up with what little the ship’s media officers had released. Boring. Pictures of heavy assault carriers launching, some of fighters, smiling pilots, determined troopers. Fleet propaganda. Some things never changed. A few shots of Ravindra, too, in fleet camouflage armor, saying reassuring things to the locals and his own troops, handing out medals. He looked very much the admiral, very much in charge. She couldn’t wait to see him again. For more than kisses.

  The medic hovered, waiting to carry out some final tests. A last check through the monitor’s data and she bowed. “There is nothing more I can do for you, Suri. All you need is food and rest. With your permission, I will return to my unit.”

  “Of course. Are there many casualties?”

  The medic’s eyes were troubled. “The ship’s hospital is also caring for the most severely injured civilians.” She cleared her throat and waved a hand at a sanvad lying on the table. “You are to call Admiral Ravindra.” A bow and she was gone.

  Yes, Sir, three bags full, Sir. Morgan connected to the communicator without picking it up and sent the id.

  He answered immediately. “How are you?”

  “Fine. How are things on the ground? Are you winning?”

  His voice was impersonal, distant. “We are. But the Yogina continue to fight.”

  “They’re programmed to fight. They won’t stop until they’re dead. I expect they’re not getting any strategic direction anymore.”

  “Can you broadcast a ‘stop’ order? Something my troops can carry?”

  She hadn’t thought of that. “Yes, I can.”

  “Do that. Now. Report to SenComm Hanestran.”

  Well, wasn’t this romantic? “Srimana.”

  He ended the call.

  She pulled on her boots, feeling vaguely disappointed. Idiot. What had she expected? The man’s an admiral and he’s fighting a battle. And I’m a Supertech. Even so, she’d hoped for a little more. Oh, for goodness fucking sake. Stop being a girl and go and do your job.

  She grabbed the communicator, stuck it on her belt and went off to find Hanestran. He stood as soon as she entered his office and bowed from the waist. Well, well. He wouldn’t have done that a few months ago.

  “Suri Selwood. Admiral Ravindra told me to expect you.” His eyes flicked over her clothes. He frowned, licking his lips. “Perhaps you should wear a jacket. I can have one—”

  She almost rolled her eyes. The shirt fitted properly, it was comfortable and it was hers. If he thought she looked like a tart, too bad. “I’m not cold, SenComm. Admiral Ravindra has a job for us. Let’s do it.”

  Ignoring the stares and incredulous looks she walked through the workshop to the banks of computers. Programming the function only took a few minutes. She had it seared on her implants, after all. “I’d suggest a general broadcast from space, constantly repeated. If you set the signal going from the three ships and at the same time deploy a network of small satellites, you’ll get maximum coverage with the least amount of effort.”

  She waited while they installed the function on a test transmitter and ensured the correct signal was being sent.

  “How will we be sure it works?” Hanestran said.

  She shrugged. “When the Yogina stop. Let me know if they don’t.” She swiveled on her heel and walked out. It would work. No doubt about it.

  ****

  Back in her state room, Morgan retrieved the data Artemis had sent her, the log of her travels. Thousands and thousands of entries. Star names, planet names that would mean nothing even if she could read the script. But if these were numbers and this last entry was Krystor’s sun Hathi… She knew Artemis had visited Andreena and Dilmar. She knew the distances between them. She lay down on the couch and started work.

  A diffident knock pulled her back into the physical world. Ravindra? No. He never knocked. Besides, he wasn’t on the ship. “Come.”

  Tullamarran stepped inside, bowing. “Suri Selwood, Admiral Ravindra wishes you to dine with him in his quarters.”

  A sensual shiver ran through her. Dine with him, huh? A bit more than that, she’d bet. “Fine. When?”

  “Two hours, Suri.”

  “Thank you, Tullamarran. I’ll be there.”

  He bowed. “Thank you for bringing him back to us, Suri.” He spoke softly. One swift glance at her and he turned away.

  Morgan gazed after him. A despotic autocrat, yes. But a little bit different.

  ****

  One more check in the mirror. Hair brushed and shiny. She tweaked the dress again, her own flexi-dress set to her favorite mid blue. And if he didn’t like it, too bad. And if he did, terrific. She crossed the corridor, chin held high. Tullamarran opened the door for her.

  Ravindra, wearing his normal black uniform, rose when she came in. The scar on his face had almost healed, not much more than a line. His glance traveled over her slowly, lingering. His eyes positively smoldered and she could feel the heat spreading through her body, her nipples tightening.

  “Are you recovered?” he said.

  “Yes.” Her heart thundered as he leaned toward her and brushed her lips with his. “This will have to do until after we’ve eaten,” he whispered. “I do not wish to be weak with hunger.”

  She grinned. “That would never do. Better eat quickly, though.” She cleared her throat. “Did the broadcast work?”

  “Yes. A little more mopping up and these people can start reclaiming their planet.”

  “I expect they’ll have a lot of work to do.”

  “Yes, in the major cities in particular. Come, let’s eat.” He shepherded her over to the table and sank down onto a pouf. “I’ve allocated as many of my people as I can to assist. The Union will send others. Ships are already on their way. We have appointed a local Mirka planetary governor.”

  Tullamarran brought the food, a colorful selection of dishes surrounding the mound of cereal, and offered wine. Why not? She thanked him when he’d poured. Ravindra served himself and helped her to choose
. They ate in silence for a few moments. She found it hard to concentrate on the food. Judging by those lingering looks across the table, so did he.

  “In a few days’ time, I will take leave and we will go to Tamlin, you and I.” He smiled and a tremor ran through her body. “Where the rainforest meets the sea. A perfect setting for The Orionar Queen.” He put down his bowl.

  “Which reminds me. Tomorrow you must come down to the planet with me.” He frowned. “We’ll have to find you a white dress to wear.”

  She almost choked. “What? Like the horrible thing Asbarthi had me wear? Not a chance.”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “Admiral… I am a Supertech, not a Queen. I am a woman, not a ship. I will wear what I want to wear. If that doesn’t suit.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Too bad.”

  The frown deepened and then he chuckled. “Is this how you treat admirals in your own society?”

  “Yes, it is. I’m good at what I do.” She stared straight into his eyes. And what are you going to do about it?

  He didn’t blink, never flinched. “You may wear your own dress. But it must be white and gold and I must approve. What you wear is important. Me, I have a hair piece until my own hair grows back. I am Darya. I must have a coti.” He moved his head so she could see the silver clasp at the back of his neck. The borrowed hair hung down between his shoulder blades. “You must understand. This is politics. The Orionar Queen arrived on their world and then hell followed. So. They should know the Orionar Queen did not cause the hell; she ended it.”

  “With some help from the Mirka.”

  He raised his glass and sipped the wine. “Yes.” He matched her gaze, his lips slightly curved.

  The temperature was rising, no doubt about it. She sipped at her own wine while a lovely, sexy shiver ran down her back.