Oh, shit.
Hognan nodded. “That is our conclusion.”
“Have you shown the subject the craft?” Darlnron demanded. “Does she recognize it?”
“The subject has a name, Councillor,” Eugen growled.
“General, please show Sandrea the captured Bluthen craft that the Vega has in tow,” Hognan asked.
A view of star-speckled black space appeared on the left side of the viewscreen. The image flickered, magnified, and then a ship appeared. She subjected it to an intent study. With nothing other than the Galactic background to measure perspective against, she couldn’t define its size, but its configuration evoked no response. The image revolved to offer a 360o viewpoint. Finally, she shook her head and looked up over her shoulder at Eugen.
“I find nothing about that familiar.”
“Send your team in, General,” Darlnron ordered.
“I am quite capable of directing this mission, Councillor, without the benefit of your limited experience,” Eugen offered politely. “My team is already in position and preparing to board the craft.”
You tell him, Eugen. “Team?” she asked.
“Lieutenant Graegen, Sergeant Kulluk, Privates Dovzshak and Kiresel. Their surveillance will be projected onto the viewer.” He squeezed her hand. “Any observations you may wish to make will be most welcome.”
His protective, loving smile warmed her heart. She returned it, then turned back to the viewscreen. The static image flickered into real time to show a shuttle circling the alien craft.
“Are you receiving the transmission, Councillors?” Eugen asked.
“We are,” Hognan confirmed.
“No sign of defensive shields or armaments,” Kulluk announced.
“There’s a docking port here, General,” Lieutenant Graegen informed.
“Proceed.”
The shuttle rafted up against the larger craft and the view switched to Graegen’s perspective. A loud hiss whistled across the comm then Kiresel advised, “Pressurization complete.” He tapped out a sequence on a console display and a panel in the floor snapped back. Kulluk crouched, reached into the hole, and pumped a stubby handle. A hatch slid open.
Dovzshak squeezed through the narrow access followed by Kulluk, Graegen, and Kiresel. A small, round chamber appeared, crammed with technical equipment and a slightly curved, metallic, almost vertical platform recessed into a bulkhead.
Revulsion tripped across her shoulders. Eugen stepped to her side and speared her a glance that was more concern than query. She gave a slow nod. “That’s it, General. That’s the type of mechanism I was hooked up to.”
His thumb rubbed the rapidly beating pulse at her wrist.
“That is the objective, Lieutenant.”
Kiresel knelt, accessed a panel beside the bench, and made a silent study of the connections inside. After a moment, he applied a long, thin tool to various contacts. “It appears to be linked to the computers, General.”
“Confirmed, General,” Dovzshak verified, studying the internals of a similar panel.
“Activate the device,” Eugen ordered then leaned close to her. “Doctor Drengel engineered an instrument that will emit your human DNA signature, hopefully allowing us access to the information and purpose behind that.”
The hideous memory of excruciating pain rose and she batted it down. “Thank you.”
Eugen’s warm fingers squeezed her wrist. Kiresel attached a piece of equipment to the workings behind the panel then placed a puck-like object on the couch.
“Device activated, Sir,” Graegen notified.
One of the monitors flickered and a hazy image appeared.
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“What is that?” Darlnron demanded. “It looks like a constellation.”
“No,” Hognan said, “the stars’ positions are too regular.”
Sandrea stared at the configuration. “General, if I may?”
“Yes, my dear?” He turned to her.
“They mean something to me as an amateur astronomer, but not in any context.”
“As an astronomer then, what do you see?”
“Lagrangian points—”
“For those of us not from Earth,” Darlnron butt in, “please be so good as to enlighten us.”
I was getting to that, you rude, insensitive bastard.
“Lagrangian points are points in a three-body spatial system where a small body of insignificant mass can remain in a fixed orbit with two massive bodies, influenced by their gravitational forces alone.”
“You mean that something like a satellite could be placed at one of these Lagrangian points,” Hognan asked, “and the gravitational tides from the planetary bodies would keep it there?”
“That is correct.”
A glimmer of respect flashed across Hognan’s countenance.
“An object under the influence of a Lagrangian point would have no reason to emit electromagnetic radiation and thereby reveal its existence,” Eugen murmured. “Not until it was activated. Can you extract further information, Lieutenant?”
“Attempting that now, Sir,” Graegen replied. “It seems we’re fairly restricted with what we can pull up even with the DNA prompt.”
One of the Lagrangian points pulsed and a set of numbers appeared.
“Well done, Private,” Graegen encouraged. “Can you read that, Sir?”
Sandrea turned her gaze to Eugen as he concentrated on the screen.
“They are the coordinates for the Kamspa system,” he said. “We held off an attack in that sector recently. Maybe”—the corner of his lips twisted—“it was not an attack at all, but a diversion to insert something in a Lagrangian point. What else can you get, Lieutenant?”
Eugen looked down at her. “The Kamspa system is not too close, but close enough to the Angrigan home world for this to cause concern.”
Another point flickered. This time the spatial reference appeared incomplete. There seemed to be enough of it however to breed a fair amount of disquiet in the room.
“Bad?” she asked.
“Quite possibly another close neighbour,” Eugen answered.
For another half-hour or so, Dovzshak and Kiresel attempted to persuade the computers to divulge more information. To no avail. Kiresel thumped the bulkhead in frustration.
“I’m sorry, Sir.” Graegen eventually announced their defeat.
Oh, dear, that’s . . . probably not good.
An unpleasant path appeared in her immediate future; one she’d only go down under duress and kicking and screaming.
“We require Miss Fairbairn to communicate with the craft,” Darlnron instructed.
Damn, I knew it.
“No!” Eugen snarled.
“May I remind you, General, that you follow the orders of the Council?”
“And may I remind you, Councillor, it is the Council’s burden to regard my advice. This is a set up. Miss Fairbairn is possibly the sole remaining asset of the Bluthen capable of discharging their plan. You cannot believe that the convenient appearance of one of their unmanned ships and the incomplete access to information can be anything other than a blatant lure.”
“I believe the situation demands the risk, General. We need to know what they are planning. The human can access their computers. Our world is at stake!”
“Putting Miss Fairbairn into that machine could well see the fruition of that risk.”
“General, can you say in all certainty that your . . . relationship with Miss Fairbairn has not clouded your judgment?”
“Putting my perfectly clear judgment to one side,” Eugen ground out, “are you proposing to force Miss Fairbairn to comply with your plan?”
Darlnron turned an insincere smile on her. “I’
m sure Miss Fairbairn will see the dire urgency of our need and . . . volunteer.”
You mean before you force me to volunteer.
The soft swish of the door opening turned her in her seat. An Angrigan sergeant marched in, his rifle held in casual readiness. As were those of the eleven soldiers that followed. Kendril and Ragnon swung to face the squad.
“What is this?” Eugen growled.
“An escort for our esteemed guest,” Darlnron said.
Sandrea felt the threat of personal dominoes set to tumble. If the Council tried to force her, Eugen would intervene, and Kendril and Ragnon would probably follow his lead. This could get very ugly, very quickly.
Eugen turned to the Councillors. “Has this action been sanctioned?”
Displeasure landed heavily on Hognan’s features. “Much to my disgust and our disgrace, yes, General, it has.”
Eugen’s eyes swept the armed guard.
Oh, God, now he’s contemplating the best way to engage them.
From the corner of her eye, she caught Kendril and Ragnon roll their balance to the balls of their feet.
Fuck, this has to stop now.
For her, right here, right now, what it boiled down to was the immediate threat to Eugen’s life and those of her friends. Not a possible, unidentified, future threat to millions or billions. She could endure the hopefully short-lived shattering experience of linking to the machine to keep her love and her friends out of dire trouble.
“Sandrea?”
That single word held Eugen’s promise that he would protect her against whatever threatened. The necessity of choosing the lesser of two evils loomed before her.
“The way I see it,” she said, “the Bluthen are gambling on my vulnerability to the machine, even though I proved less than compliant, to initiate whatever they have planned. The Council is gambling on the Alliance’s ability to control any potential danger I might cause while linked to the machine against discovering just what that danger may be.” She rose to her feet and wrapped a hand over the tense bulge of Eugen’s forearm. “I will do it, Eugen, if you will stand by me.”
Problem was, she’d trust Eugen’s judgment over anyone’s. If he said it was a trap, that’s precisely what it was. Well, she’d just have to hope the Council’s faith in the Alliance’s abilities to counter whatever she might unwittingly start was well founded.
Within Eugen’s eyes, outright dismissal waged angry war with acceptance of her agreement. His large hands cupped her elbows.
“If you choose not to go, I will not let them have you.” Concern roughened his voice. “You’ve already endured too much. We will find another way.”
Love flooded her heart and gave her courage against the fear clawing at her soul. “And I won’t let you sacrifice yourself. Come”—she clutched him tighter as he opened his mouth, no doubt to argue—“we can do this together and we probably don’t have time to find another way.”
Tension straightened every line of his body. The torment clouding his eyes saddened her and she placed her palm to the side of his face. His clenched jaws contained boiling emotion.
“General, you will follow orders!” Darlnron’s voice rose in querulous insistence.
That man really is irritating.
Eugen snarled. “Then you can keep—”
“No, Eugen!” She covered his mouth with her hand. “It has to be this way. You know the Bluthen. Whatever they have planned, it will be diabolical. The Angrigan culture is now my culture, and I will defend it. Sometimes the only way around a situation is straight through it.”
He pulled her hand to his chest. Concern spilled from his eyes, then he nodded.
She tiptoed up and pressed her lips to his. “Come on then, my General,” she whispered.
“I will not forget your transgression, General.”
Darlnron’s voice grating on her nerves, she took a deep breath and turned to the viewscreen. “Will you stop being such an asshole?”
Hognan snorted.
“And withdraw your damned escort. I’ll only do this with General Mhartak and Alpha Squad.”
“Good luck, Sandrea,” Hognan said then turned to Darlnron. “She’s right, you know. You really are an asshole.”
Chapter 15
“. . . A Banquet of Consequences . . .”
A harsh sigh of anger tore through Mhartak’s throat at his Council’s shameful position. The bitter taste of accepting this unpalatable decision burned like corrosive on his spirit. All his knowledge and experience told him there was no reason for Sandrea to suffer through this fear-inspired decree and every reason not to. At this point he didn’t give a damn about his own career, but resisting the Council order would merely jeopardize Sandrea’s safety. Defying them would force him from her side and that was unacceptable.
Her desire to protect him from the menace of his own government and her immediate forgiveness for the death of her fellow Earthmen humbled and moved him. He knew, soul deep, that if he lost her, he would never recover.
She cocked her head to one side and gazed up at him. “Come on, my General,” she said, “let’s go see if we can rip the fork out of some Bluthen nighties.”
“I’m sorry, Sandrea . . .”
“Put a really big disappointment in their day,” she clarified.
He drew a huge breath and forced the reservations baying in his heart into quiet mutterings. He would not underestimate her abilities, nor would he fail in his duty and privilege of care for her.
“Lieutenant Graegen?” he said.
“Sir?”
“Extract your team, excluding Private Kiresel, then remain in formation with the Bluthen ship.”
Sandrea drew comfort from the big hand Eugen placed on her lower back as he urged her from the room. She sent a quick glance over his grim features and swallowed.
I know, dear heart, I know. It’s not my first choice on how to spend the day either.
Kendril and Ragnon trailed them to the flight deck where Drengel met them with a silent acknowledgement. Queasiness roiled through her stomach though her heavy heartbeat lumbered with less trepidation than she expected. That minor miracle no doubt achieved by the knowledge Eugen would be there to watch over her in the coming ordeal.
Dexter’s feet increased in suction against her skin and his tail wrapped a mite more tightly around her nape. She focused inward and dredged her memory for the precise relationship between her and the Bluthen machine. Peripheral attention noted their boarding of a shuttle, hands settling her into a seat, her body’s automatic compensation for the craft’s movement.
What had the Bluthen programmed her for?
No, that question didn’t seem . . . right.
What had the Bluthen programmed . . . in her?
Yes, that seemed more relevant. Dexter pushed his head into the nook behind her ear. She trailed comforting fingers over his body.
So, programmed in her. What did that mean?
“When you are ready, Sandrea.”
Eugen’s soft voice glided into her introspection. She blinked, focused her eyes and looked up. “Sorry?”
His lips compressed, anxiety dulled his eyes. “We are at the Bluthen craft.”
Already?
“Oh. Oh, right.”
Unease bit into her muscles and clashed head on with her burning resolution to deny the Bluthen any hold over her and perhaps by default an Alliance society. Eugen moved his strong, gentle hands to her arms then helped her to her feet. His wide-legged stance blocked her path.
“In your own time,” he ordered.
A sad smile eased the corners of her mouth. ‘In her own time’ would probably see destruction on a large scale before she moved. No, Bluthen dictated this timeframe.
“After you, General.”
> He remained concreted before her, his features locked in stoic calm. A muscle twitched at the top of his jaw and then he turned and dropped through the already open hatch into the enemy craft.
“Good luck.”
Sandrea turned to Kendril and frowned at her friend’s position in the pilot’s seat.
“You’re not coming, Shrenk?”
Kendril shook her head. “No.”
Disappointment punched through her. “Oh. Well then, I’ll see you soon.”
“Make sure you do.”
Sandrea grabbed her courage, nodded at her friend, and strode to meet her nemesis. Eugen’s strong hands supported her as she slid into the other spaceship. She nodded to a sombre Kiresel and moved aside to allow room for Ragnon and Drengel to drop into the craft behind her.
The cramped quarters permitted very little movement and despite Eugen’s impeding hands on her upper arms, she confronted the metallic couch. Ugly memories cascaded through her mind. Vengeful determination pursued them.
I am so going to wop some Bluthen ass.
She pressed her lips together. They hadn’t conquered her last time and she wouldn’t let them this time. Dexter’s low, throbbing growl rumbled into her ear. Tangible support radiated from her friends as she stared at the contraption. She reached up and gripped one of Eugen’s wrists.
“Don’t let me become an instrument of destruction, Eugen. Promise me.”
“Have no fear. The Vega will dampen any remote signals you may inadvertently send.”
“And what if I do something other than send a remote signal? Or the Vega is unsuccessful?”
A long moment passed before his ragged indrawn breath shuddered against her back.
He placed a light kiss on the crown of her head. “I will have you out of that thing in a moment.”
She forced down the hot sting of choking emotion, nodded, and steeled her heart with the shield of his love.
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