“One missile or two, Chief?”
“One should do it, Captain. Target should be in firing range in eleven minutes.”
“Fire when ready, Chief.” He looked again at the plotting board. Suddenly he realized that for the first time they might actually be able to see what they were shooting at. “Piper, give me extended visuals.”
The small screen over his head flicked to life. He switched on the plotting overlay, found Wallbank’s star, and looked hopefully for a sign of the Sondak ship. Behind him Kleber was beginning her countdown.
Everyone on the command deck felt the tension as Kleber marked the passing minutes. Finally she said, “Firing, sir. One missile away. Time to target, seventeen point-two-two minutes. Beginning reload.”
Ishiwa waited patiently as the second countdown began. He moved his eyes back and forth from the plotting board to the viewscreen, hoping to actually see the missile strike home. Kleber moved beside him and looked up at the screen with assurance written all over her face. He was startled by how sharply distinctive her odor was – and how stimulating.
“Any time now, sir.”
She had hardly finished speaking when a tiny flash erupted on the viewscreen. A split second later the blip on the plotting board broke into tiny fragments that gradually disappeared like flakes of snow against the glacier of space.
“Wow,” Kleber whispered.
“Target’s gone, sir,” the deck piper reported.
“Well done, Chief,” Ishiwa said, giving her a broad smile and patting her arm. He let his hand linger there a moment longer than necessary.
Her face was flushed. “Thank you, sir.”
“Bon? How much longer can we hold this course before we have to circle back?”
“Approximately ten hours, sir.”
“Steady as she goes, Lieutenant.”
Three hours later they picked up a group of three ships exiting subspace. Kleber’s missiles destroyed two ships, but the forward crew had a minor delay in loading the third missile. By the time she was ready to fire, the third Sondak ship had accelerated out of range. Ishiwa decided to let it go.
“Circle to primary alternate course, Lieutenant. I suspect the Saks will be looking for us out here in a little while. The ship is yours.”
“Aye-aye, sir.” There was delight in Bon’s voice.
“Chief, report to my cabin as soon as your crew has secured the forward tube.”
“Will do, sir.”
A warm sense of elation filled Ishiwa as he slid down to the work deck and went to his cabin. Three ships with three missiles. Three visually confirmed hits. Now Olmis would truly come into her own as a force to be reckoned with. Kleber’s new technique was absolutely excellent, and damned near foolproof.
He smoothed an imaginary wrinkle on his bunk, then unlatched a small chest from under it. Opening the chest he withdrew a vacuum bottle of his favorite Yotoyo liquor and two polished steel ceremonial cups. Setting the bottle and cups on the small table, he took a quick glance around the cabin just as Kleber knocked on his door.
“Chief Kleber reporting as ordered, sir,” she said happily as the door slid open.
Again Ishiwa was aware of her distinctive odor. In a ship now permeated with the stale smell of human bodies, it struck him as odd that her scent should stand out so. Very odd indeed. “Come in, Kleber. Come in,” he said, closing the door behind her. “Have a seat.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I think the successful proof of your idea calls for a celebration drink.” He handed her a small steel cup and noticed the delicate way she fingered its fine engraving as he filled it with the fire-red liquor. “To the Olmis and her future,” he said after filling his own cup. With one quick motion he emptied it. The liquor burned a path to his stomach in a satisfying way.
Following his example, she drank the whole cupful without stopping. Ishiwa could see her eyes watering, and laughed. “That’s it, Kleber. Let it warm you up. We’ll drink the second one more slowly.”
“Good, sir,” she said hoarsely. She let out a long sigh. “That stuff has a big bite.”
Ishiwa was now fully aware of his intentions toward her and suddenly felt embarrassed. There was no formal regulation against what he wanted to do, but there were strict social prohibitions against any personal actions that might adversely affect the running of the ship. The strictest of those were on the captain. It also occurred to him that the look that had passed between her and Bon might have meant more than he thought.
“Is something wrong, Captain?”
“Please,” he said, looking at her as directly as he could, “call me Ruto.” He hoped the intimacy of sharing his given name with her would help her understand what he was feeling.
“Captain, I, uh…oh, brackets!”
Her exclamation startled him. He looked down into his cup as his embarrassment turned into shame. “I apologize,” he said softly. “I meant no –“
“Please, Ruto, it is I who should apologize.” Kleber reached across the table and touched her cheek lightly with her finger tips. Then she stood up without warning, stepped across the cabin, and dimmed the lights.
Ishiwa looked up at her in amazement and confusion.
“Take me,” she said as she zipped open the front of her tunic. “Take me quickly the first time.”
Like a man in a dream out of control Ishiwa moved across the room to her, pulling his clothes off as he went. Even in the dim light he could see the hard lines of her body marked by scars he didn’t understand. When she pressed herself against him, there was no room for scars or prohibitions or understanding.
Flesh to flesh they slid down onto his bunk. Her mouth devoured his with eager kisses. Her hands pulled at him insistently, demanding only one thing. Her scent went straight to the center of his loins and drove him with a sensuous madness.
There were no slow, gentle caresses as they explored each other. There were no linger kisses to be savored. Their bodies pounded against each other in a blind, panting fury of lust that bruised their flesh with exquisite agony.
Her hips found a staccato rhythm of their own, bouncing under him with unstoppable desperation. Suddenly she arched her back in a series of hard, trembling spasms. She bit sharply into his shoulder. Ishiwa clenched his teeth to keep from screaming as his body was paralyzed in the moment of release.
“Missiles, missiles, missiles,” a faint voice whispered beyond his shuddering moan.
For a long minute or two neither of them moved, their bodies stuck together in momentary exhaustion. Then Kleber turned her head slightly and kissed the hollow where his neck joined his shoulder. A quiet joy pushed against the lethargy in his muscles as he buried his face in her hair and sucked in the delicious smell of her.
Ishiwa didn’t want to leave her. He rocked gently on his elbows and knees, fighting the drowsiness that threatened him, enjoying the slick feel of her. Kleber’s fingers traced the muscles of his back and the ridges of his spine with slow delicate movements. Gradually her hips responded to his rocking with a motion of their own.
He raised his head and kissed her softly, gently – her mouth, her nose, her cheeks, and her mouth again. She returned her kisses and teased his lips with a flicking tongue. When his body paused, her hips moved insistently until they rocked together, synchronized by a need only partly sated.
Slowly, but relentlessly they moved toward a second peak until Ishiwa thought he would die at the moment it came. All his energy focused on that one overwhelming sensation as she pulled him over the crest of the peak and down into the deaf and blind oblivion of relief.
Finally he collapsed beside her, his breathing and hers shaping a ragged melody that seemed to fill his cabin. As his mind drifted quickly toward sleep his fingers traced the scars along her ribs, and he wondered faintly how she had gotten them.
She gently stilled his hand and pulled herself against him. “You may call me Andria,” she whispered.
◊ ◊ ◊
“We
’re agreed on that, then,” Pajandcan said, with a smile. “The next item of business is the command structure. I have chosen Admiral Dimitri to command the main attack group and Admiral Devonshire to command the reserves.” She looked around the crowded conference room and said a quick silent prayer that she would get to see all these faces again.
“Are you sure we can’t muster another legion of Planetary Troops, Admiral?” General Schopper asked.
Pajandcan appreciated and respected his concern, but they had already covered that problem and she was ready to move forward. Still it wouldn’t hurt to reinforce what she had already told them. “No, we can’t, General. The Joint Chiefs have authorized us to undertake whatever defensive operations we think are necessary. Admiral Gilbert is the only one who knows how far reaching our defensive planning actually is, but there are a limited number of ships and troops he can afford to divert to us. Besides, when we –“
“Pardon me, Admiral,” a brevet sergeant said, entering the room without ceremony, “but this just came off the code from Wallbank, and I thought you’d better see it immediately.”
As she read the brief message a dry lump formed in Pajandcan’s throat. “Damn,” she whispered. With a quick shake of her head she passed the message to Dimitri. “Read it aloud.”
Dimitri quickly scanned the message, then stood up. His voice was filled with cold anger as he read. “Be advised that the light cruisers, Devera and Entios, and the troopship Skidmore carrying two legions of reserve Planetary Troops, were all attacked and destroyed by parties unknown within thirty thousand kilometers of Wallbank. All hands were lost. Suspect U.C.S. hunk or hunks operating on the fringes of the system.”
The room was filled with grave silence broken only by the hoarse clearing of throats and a few ragged sighs.
Admiral Dawson was the first one to speak. “Hunks,” he said softly. “We’ve got to stop those damned hunks.”
“You and I can worry about that later,” Pajandcan said finally. War meant losses, and they had to be accepted as they came. Yet no matter how much she understood the rational logic of that thought, Pajandcan had never learned how to take the losses in stride. Everyone hurt.
“I was counting on those reserves to free the Hundred and Second Legion for the landing on Sutton,” General Schopper said.
“We know that, General. We can still use the Hundred and Second.”
“But, Admiral! That will cut Wallbank down to –“
“Dammit! I know as well as you do what that means to Wallbank. And it’s all the more reason not to flinch from the Sutton operation. We have to hit the Ukes where it hurts, General, or they’re going to hit us even harder.”
“I’m sorry, Admiral, but I don’t see how I can commit the Hundred and Second now.”
“Are you saying you won’t, General?”
“I would be within my rights, ma’amm,” Schopper said. “There’s no way you can force me to commit troops I don’t have. And I no longer have a legion to spare for this operation.”
Pajandcan held her temper. She knew if she pushed Schopper hard enough, he’d go straight to the Joint Chiefs. That was within his rights also. Then the whole Sutton operation would be blown off the planning boards. But there was a lever she could use against him. “Suppose we consult with General Mari on this? I understand his next communication is due in a day or so.”
“Of course,” Schopper said quickly. “Technically he is still my commanding officer.”
“There’s nothing technical about it, Schopper. In the meantime I want the Hundred and Second ready to ship off Wallbank on one day’s notice.”
“Can’t do it, Admiral.”
Pajandcan put her palms flat on the table, stood up, and leaned forward. If Schopper couldn’t orbit on his own, she’d kick his engines out in space. “Let me put it to you this way, General. Either you have the Hundred and Second ready to ship within a day’s notice, or when we talk to General Mari, I’m going to demand that you be replaced.”
“I still can’t –“
“Dammit!” she said, interrupting him with a vengeance, “You’ll do what I tell you. Otherwise, I’ll write such a scathing report for your service that you’ll be lucky to hold on to the two stars you have.”
Schopper rose slowly to his feet, his face swollen with anger. “You can’t do that,” he said with a defiant shake of his head. “You don’t have the authority.”
Pajandcan gave him a tight, bitter smile. “Try me, General. Just try me. But I’m warning you right now that you’ll regret testing my authority.”
Everyone in the conference room hung poised in the tension until Schopper slowly lowered himself into his chair. Any support he might have found among his fellow officers went down with him into glowering silence.
“Now,” Pajandcan said without emotion, “if there are no further comments about our troop dispositions, we’ll move onto the next item on our agenda,” Pajandcan said slowly.
There were no further comments.
18
WITH A SIGH FRYE ROLLED OVER and looked at the clock. Zero-three-hundred hours. Too early to get up, and too late to go to sleep. Or had he slept? It was getting hard to tell anymore.
These days he worked as long as he had to, went to bed with details swimming through his mind, and got up with them still there. Sometimes the clock indicated that he had slept, but he got up feeling exhausted. Sometimes he knew he had lain awake all night planning strategy, but he got up in the morning feeling totally refreshed.
At this very moment he wasn’t sure what had happened since he had climbed into bed three hours earlier. Frye tried to clear his mind. He took slow measured breaths and focused on his body, waiting for the insensitive heaviness that signaled the brink of sleep. Through the haze of his relaxation he saw an image of Melliman that triggered immediate thoughts about her.
For some reason he hadn’t been surprised by the delayed response from Personnel to his inquiry about Melliman. She was on her way back to Gensha for permanent reassignment. The officer who had given him the information told Frye she was listed on a roster of “unnecessary” personnel sent back by Marshall Yozel.
Frye had almost laughed when he heard that. Any commander who failed to appreciate Melliman’s skills and knowledge and got rid of her as “unnecessary”, had to be mentally incompetent. Or…the alternative made him frown. He had gotten rid of Melliman once, and he had certainly appreciated her talents.
Could Marshall Yozel have…No. He rejected that thought immediately. He knew Melliman well enough to be sure she hadn’t gotten personally involved with Yozel. Yozel wasn’t the type of man who interested her. No, Frye knew only too well what kind of man Melliman wanted. Him.
He rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling by the dim light from the clock. He could remember that night he had spent with Melliman as clearly as he wanted to. Now for reasons he refused to explore, he chose to remember.
Vinita’s ashes had hardly had time to settle on the slopes of her beloved Mount Cosio before Frye had turned to Melliman and smothered himself in her arms.
With an angry grunt he threw an arm over his eyes. That wasn’t quite true. Vinita had been dead for almost one hundred days by then.
But following his wanton use of Melliman, he had been overcome by guilt and shame. Despite all her assurances that she loved him, Frye knew he had used her that night – used her without thinking, as a substitute for Vinita. Now he was planning to use her as a substitute for Marsha.
With still another sigh he rolled over onto his side. That wasn’t true either. He had tried to use Marsha as a substitute for Melliman, and that experiment had failed miserably. Now he was taking Melliman back as his AOCO because she was the best one he ever expected to have. And because…
Frye twisted under the blankets and sat up angrily. The clock read zero-three-ten. Better to get up now than to torture himself like this. But better to get rest of some kind than to take his exhaustion to the Bridgeforce meeting lat
er. With grim determination he straightened the blankets and lay back down.
Once more he let his body relax and tried to clear his mind. Bridgeforce meeting…I’m ready, he thought. Have to be absolutely sure…attack Satterfield proceeding…reinforce Ca-Ryn garrison…Melliman…father…
“…Father? You said to get you up at six.”
Frye tried to dismiss the disembodied voice.
“Father? Are you all right?” Marsha asked as she crossed the room to his bed. When she put a hand on his shoulder he started.
“What?”
“It’s six,” she said. “You told me to –“
“Fine. I’m fine. Thank you.”
She left his room with a small pang of concern. He was working too hard without rest. Even if she hadn’t just had trouble waking him, the dark circles under his eyes would have told her that. It’s his problem, not mine, part of her mind said as she went to make sure breakfast would be ready when he was.
Frye out of bed and into the bathspa. Shouldn’t have slept, he thought groggily as he turned on all the water jets and let the streaming spray slowly massage the fatigue from his muscles. Dreams? He thought. No. Melliman. Thinking again about Melliman.
“Frye,” he said aloud as the water stabbed him from every side, “you might as well accept how you feel about her. She’s not Vinita…never will be. But if she still cares about you, there’s no sense in torturing yourself like this. No sense in it at all. Why don’t you meet her ship when it lands this evening and start this off right?”
He had no answer for himself, but he was awake enough now to realize that meeting Melliman when she arrived was probably a good idea. There was no sense in waiting any longer than necessary to find out what their relationship was going to be.
It wasn’t until the middle of the day during a break in the Bridgeforce meeting that Frye thought of Melliman again. Quickly he called his office.
“Marsha, find out when that troopship is arriving from Sutton, and arrange for ground transportation to get me to the port in time to meet it.”
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