Carig wasn’t Hel’s only problem. If Halliwell wasn’t getting critical information, then it was equally true that information getting to Hel would have had to have been filtered or altered as well. The false feeding had gone both ways; otherwise Hel would have bypassed the process much sooner.
His enemies had timed it well. In other circumstances, he’d have picked up on the problem before now, but he’d been distracted by the chaos that had ensued after the fall of the Dusan. This level of tampering was beyond Carig’s reach and abilities. It was possible that someone on the Council was using Carig to do their dirty work. He could think of several members devious enough, including his cousin, Glarmere. The man took after his mother’s side of the family. Their father had been dangerous and devious, which is why Hel’s grandfather had arranged the mating between the two families. His motto was, keep your friends close and mate with your enemies’ daughters. His mother had never forgiven her father or her mate, though Hel’s father had redeemed himself somewhat by dying. If Glarmere was working with Carig, had he been party to the bombing? The blood tie was supposed to be sacrosanct—otherwise marriage was useless—though Glarmere wouldn’t cry at Hel’s funeral. The attempt to discredit him had Glarmere’s fingerprints all over it, and Hel suspected the bombing would, too.
Hel looked at his time piece. It was time to end the meeting, if they were going to make it to the death ceremony in time.
“If there is no further business,” he raised the meeting stone, but Glarmere rose in his seat.
“There is one more item, Leader.”
Glarmere had inherited the family stone face, but Hel could tell he was pleased. He’d lived with his mother long enough to excel in reading stone.
“Are you sure this can’t wait until the next session? We have the death ceremony.”
“I will be brief, Leader.”
Hel’s eyes narrowed. “Proceed—with brevity.”
“Since the Earth expedition is unwilling to proceed with a mating contract, I would like to propose a mating with the Carnarions.”
It was a clever move. The Council had been pressuring him to take a bond mate since the official mourning period for his bond mate had ended. The war had provided some distraction. What good was an alliance mating if the world disappeared to the Dusan? And the Carnarions lived on the distant edge of the galaxy, along the corridor that fronted Dusan territory.
If he refused to meet with the Carnarions, they’d be offended and the Council could use this to unseat him. Alliance mating was the duty of a Leader. His father had been happy to mate when and where he could, but Hel had managed to dodge that trap. The women his father mated with had elected to remain as Leader mates so the alliances continued.
A Leader was only required to pursue one alliance mate at a time. Even among the Gadi it didn’t look good to be courting more than one woman. Their women weren’t as oppressed as the General thought they were. The fall of the Dusan had raised the issue again. The Earth expedition had been a useful delaying force, since they didn’t seem to understand the concept. He could just give in and engage in negotiations, but that would require him to travel there or bring the prospective mate here. Either move would limit his ability to leave the planet.
Hel didn’t like limits and he did not like the Council forcing his hand.
“Leader? Is there a problem?” Glarmere had a pleased glow in his cold eyes.
“I’m curious to know where you heard the Earth expedition had decided against a mating alliance.” It was a gamble. This new, uneasy alliance with General Halliwell might crumble if Hel pushed too far, but all he needed was the appearance of negotiation. He didn’t want a mate from Earth anymore than the General wanted to give him one. Hel kept thoughts of Delilah locked in a compartment inside his head. He never allowed himself to want what he could not have.
Glarmere lost a bit of his glow. “At the final diplomatic meeting before their ship left our space.”
Hel put the tips of his fingers together and leaned back in his seat. “Would this be the same meeting where you were told we weren’t going to be allowed onto the Kikk outpost?”
Glarmere lost a bit of his stone face now. “Yes, Leader.”
“I’m open to discussing the Carnarions—when I’m sure negotiations with Earth have concluded.” He lifted the stone and dropped it on the pad. “This meeting is adjourned. It is time to mourn our dead.
* * * * *
It was a nice, tight little ship, Doc decided, more than halfway into her journey to Kikk, but she could have used room to move. Or more noise. She’d pulled up every problem she’d ever wanted or hoped to think about and still the journey dragged by. The way her mind worked, in some ways, she was almost an android, except with time. She knew that time couldn’t slow or speed up, that it passed the same for everyone, but that failed to change her sense that it was not fixed, that it changed its pace with willful intent to give aid and comfort to them, but only when she was vulnerable. It was if it knew.
Just thinking about it made her feel paranoid. Most of the time she could keep time, and time thoughts, on her back burner. She’d have beaten her head against something, if there were something she could safely bang it against. Shouting just made her head ache.
She leaned back in her seat and tried not to squirm. She hadn’t been squirmy when she was little, and it was too late to start now. She should have brought her iPod. She could have drowned out her thoughts with loud rock music. As if they knew she was in trouble, they closed in, closer than they’d gotten in a long time. She had to focus and she needed to do it now—a warning light flashed on her flight control panel. Most people would see that as a bad thing, but she welcomed the distraction. She leaned in to study the incoming data. She was being scanned? She entered a query to identify the scan.
Unknown. But they knew everyone in this galaxy, didn’t they?
Two could play the scan game. She initiated one at the source. A HUD—a heads-up display—appeared, showing her the area of origination, and with it some sort of energy signature, emanating from the surface of an uninhabited, class-five planet. According to the Garradian database, it was just off her course for Kikk. She’d blow by it in a few minutes—
Her ship slowed so abruptly it made her speed jeans inflate.
“What the crap?” That wasn’t supposed to happen. She did a systems check. Hyperdrive was online and functioning well within optimal ranges. The window was stable, but her ship continued to slow. If the ship was fine, then it had to be something out there slowing her down.
Doc keyed in a more detailed scan of the energy signature, increased shield strength to max and got ready to kick on her sub light engines. On the HUD, the energy signature looked like a giant hand reaching out from the planet surface. She was at its outer edge. The ship’s defenses weren’t reacting badly yet, but Doc felt something clench in her gut, a premonition of trouble incoming. She keyed on her radio.
“This is Test Flight One declaring an emergency.” She activated her beacon and sent her coordinates to the Doolittle and to the outpost. “I repeat, this is Test Flight One declaring an emergency.”
“…Test Flight One…nature of the emergency…” The voice came through in pieces. The field was interfering with the signal. Doc didn’t know why. She worked the controls, trying to clear transmission.
“Hostile energy field is interfering with my hyperdrive.” It sounded weird, but that’s what was happening. She felt the ship shudder as the field engulfed her ship, then a lurch, as if she’d stood on the brakes. Only her straps kept her from hitting the canopy—which didn’t mean the sudden stop didn’t hurt.
Okay, now they’d pissed her off. She kick-started the sub light engines and threw them into reverse. The ship shuddered, danced and shimmied as she fought the field’s attempt to drag her toward the planet. All that did was slow the drag.
Another system pinged a warning. The field was attempting to pierce her shields. What the freak? Based on her scan
s, it would have had the same effect as getting hit by a stun weapon. She checked shield strength. Holding for now. Interesting that they were attempting to disable ship and pilot.
She used the scanners to pinpoint the source of the beam and brought weapons systems on line. Targeting failed to lock. The energy field interfered with it, too.
Warnings began to blare about almost every system. On the HUD, she could see the field tighten and wrap around her, like a hand closing into a fist. If she could break free, she might be able to open a hyperspace window and get clear before they could expand it again. She transferred power from everywhere she could find to sub lights. She did some quick mental calculations, her hand hovering over her thrusters as she watched the field tighten.
“That’s right, shrink yourself down nice and tight…”
She hit the thrusters, not sure if the tearing sound was the ship coming apart or her overactive imagination. More warning lights kicked on, but she didn’t have time to shut them off. On the HUD her nose started to clear the edge of the field. She got a targeting solution and fired. Metal shrieked. The ship shuddered again, and she saw the nose go, felt the vibration as her engines sheared off. Her HUD flickered and went down.
“Pod deployment initiated,” a mechanical voice informed her.
“No shit,” Doc muttered, switching her efforts to gaining control of the pod’s descent. It was her last chance to elude whoever controlled the field, if it was still impacting her. Without her HUD it was hard to know anything.
She recalled the pod had a semi-flat side, almost like an egg, that was meant to be turned away from the atmosphere during entry. If that was down when she hit the atmosphere at the right angle—she did the calculations inside her head—she might bounce off. It was a long shot, but better than getting caught like a rat in a cage by a hostile bogey.
The pod’s autopilot resisted being turned off, so she found the wires and ripped them out. The pod bitched, but submitted. At least it had moved past the shimmy stage. Now it was more like a cha-cha.
Her gaze moved back and forth between the very basic tracking screen and the controls as the pod slowly turned its egg-shaped ass toward the planet.
More warnings blared. Did it think she’d missed the memo about being screwed?
“This is going to be bad,” Doc said, not sure if she was talking to herself or them. The angle still wasn’t right. And then it didn’t matter.
The pod hit the atmosphere.
It didn’t bounce. It might have splattered.
* * * * *
Hel still felt the chill of his mother’s outrage at being sent into hiding. It was inconsiderate of him to have his life threatened. Other Leaders had managed the plotting and counterplotting without almost getting blown up. Clearly he took after his father’s family.
He flexed his fingers, but the chill went deep. He’d felt warmer on Aris, the winter planet in the Zindi Quadrant. He almost wished he were back there.
At least he was finally alone. The last “Leader, if I might have a moment,” request had been dealt with. The Gadi sun was long gone. Most everyone was in their quarters, either sleeping or plotting against him. He rubbed the aching spot between his brows. He almost wished he were back on the Doolittle. Thinking about the Earth ship led, inevitably, to wondering about Delilah. Was she making rounds in the infirmary right now?
He closed his eyes and let himself remember what it felt like to hold her, to kiss her. Heat washed through him. Heat and something more. He opened his eyes, rubbed his face. If the General were reasonable—but he wasn’t and he never would be.
He could take her. He had the power. He was the Leader, but he had other ways to get what he wanted. He didn’t often think about his other life, his secret identity, not even here in his quarters. He was careful to keep the parts of his life separate, even in his mind. The one time he’d let the parts touch had been disastrous. His attempt to secure the Key for his people was the root cause of the problems with the Earth expedition now.
But he was tempted. What would happen if he sent his Ojemba after Delilah? He almost smiled, seeing his image reflected in the night-darkened windows. Even his Ojemba, as highly trained as they were, might find her a challenge.
He sighed, pain from his injuries gaining ground now that he was tired. He needed to sleep, but he felt uneasy. He turned, studying the familiar surroundings. This peaceful room was usually his sanctuary, the place where he sought solace and renewed vigor to face the challenge of leading his people. Tonight, solace was missing. It frustrated him to realize he’d felt safer aboard the Earth ship. This was home. Had it changed? Or had he?
Something, something more sensed than felt or seen, had him pulling his weapon from its hiding place against his back. He brought the lights down, moving so that he was no longer silhouetted by the moonlit windows. He knew the room, could move around it with his eyes closed. He drifted toward the door to the sleeping chamber and melted into the shadows.
No movement. No sound.
Still he kept still. He knew how to wait.
Cooler air began its scheduled flow from concealed vents. With the moving air came the scent of something, or someone, alien to this space. Hel had learned to use all his senses. Now he homed in on this smell.
It teased his memory. Not something recent. Something from the past…
A slight, barely audible rustle of clothing.
He keyed on the sound and sensed unease, perhaps rising anxiety.
Waiting took iron nerves and a strong will.
Hel considered triggering an alert, bringing his security into the room, but he was tired of being acted upon. Tired of reacting to events. In here, all alone, he did not have to play Leader. Whoever was waiting in there might wish he had called security.
A slight creak of wood. Hel knew now where the watcher waited. He avoided that spot when pacing. His mother looked for it when lecturing.
His eyes had adjusted well to the reduced light. His night vision had always been excellent. The door to his sleeping quarters was ajar. If he were the one inside and he had to come out, he’d nudge it wide, fire, then drop and dive out, firing multiple directions. In the dark, each shot would mark position, so continual movement was necessary.
It would be wise to assume this assailant was well trained until proved otherwise. He padded quietly to a tall chair. It would give some cover, depending on the type of weapon being used.
He could go into his quarters and remove the threat, but it amused him to string out the tension. He could almost feel the frustration of the intruder building to a boil.
Did he catch a sigh as the cooling system shut down?
He rested his weapon on the decorative edge of the chair, sighting the center of the door and waited. Not long now.
The door kicked back. A flash came from the darkness. Hel used it as the sight line for his shot.
A gasp was followed by a heavy thud.
It could be a ruse. He kept low, made his way to the dark rectangle. Pressed against the wall, he listened, thought he heard the rasp of air in and out of lungs. He reached around and flicked on the light and jerked back. Nothing happened. He waited longer than that, then eased up to the opening, put his weapon around first, then took a quick look.
It looked like the blast had caught her square in the chest, throwing her back a few feet. He still approached with caution, kicked her weapon aside, before kneeling to check her pulse.
Unease spiked again. He reached up and ripped her bodice down to her waist.
The bomb’s timer showed bare seconds to react. He hit the alert on his wrist as he spun and raced for the hallway. He met his security coming in.
“Bomb.” He snapped. They spun to cover his exit as he counted down the time to the blast.
“Now!”
He dove for the floor. His team covered him as the building shuddered. He lifted his head. Rubble spilled from the door of his quarters, but it appeared the blast had been contained. One of his men
helped him to rise.
“How far out is my flagship?” he snapped.
“It just broke orbit, Leader.”
“I want transport as soon as they are in range.”
He sighed. If someone was going to assassinate him, they could pay him the compliment of being marginally adaptable. Two bombings? If he weren’t so annoyed, he’d be bored.
Chapter Seven
The Doolittle had just cleared Gadi space when the distress signal from Doctor Clementyne was picked up. Halliwell, about to exit the bridge, switched directions, coming to a stop at the communications station. The doctor’s voice was calm, characteristically cool. Halliwell imagined her expression would be similar to the one she’d used giving him the bad news about a possible war with the Gadi. While the communications officer tried to determine the nature of the emergency, they received a data burst containing her coordinates.
“Ask her for more details about the energy field,” he ordered. His gut tightened with worry and guilt. She was out there alone because of him. He didn’t remember reading any intell on unusual energy sources. Was this something new? Or something else left off the briefings? Why had no one on Kikk noticed the energy field? “See if Kikk has anything on it, too.”
“There’s a lot of interference with the signal, sir.”
He waited tensely until the officer said, “I’ve lost contact, sir. Sorry.”
“How long before we reach those coordinates?” Halliwell’s voice was calmer than his thoughts. He’d lost many of his people in a variety of ways. It was always a blow, but loss went with any military command. They were hours behind her. It didn’t matter that she requested the fast egress. He’d let her leave alone so she could get to work on his problem faster. Giddioni had been planet-side for several hours now, and their secure communication setup ready. Could he have something to do with this? It was hard to see how, since Doctor Clementyne had covertly left Gadi space. Halliwell entered his private quarters and opened a channel—video and audio.
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