“Not at all.”
“Excellent. Well, Alexa, I’ll leave you to get settled in. Here is a new tablet for you.” She set the device, smaller and sleeker than the one Alexa had lost on Mandala, on the kitchenette’s faux-travertine counter. “You’ll find a schematic of the station on there, so you should be able to find Ambassador Castillo’s office without any problem. It is on Deck Five. I’ll let him know that you’ll be down to see him in an hour.”
“Thank you, Chima,” Alexa replied, and hoped she would be able to get herself presentable in just an hour. At the moment she felt as if she wanted to spend at least a day scrubbing the last vestiges of Mandala from her hair and skin. Since she knew she didn’t have that luxury, she only added, “I’ll be there.”
Chima smiled and let herself out, and Alexa locked the door behind her. For a second she stood in the middle of the small, luxurious apartment, looking around, trying to get used to the trappings of civilization after spending days tramping through the woods of an alien planet. Then she took a deep breath, shook her head, and went to the bathroom. She didn’t have a day, but twenty minutes was better than nothing.
All right, half an hour.
Lirzhan sat directly across from Ambassador Trazhar in her elegant office decorated in the blue and green shades his people so loved. Her gloved hands knotted on top of the desk of polished pale wood. “You are certain? This woman, this human, is sayara?”
“Yes, Ambassador.” The disapproval emanating from her was palpable, and he made sure his tone was neutral as he replied, “It is not without precedent.”
“The barest precedent,” she replied. Then she sighed. “But if you have felt it, then it is true, and we must do what we can to work with the situation. This Alexa Craig — have you told her of it?”
“I have.” More than told her — kissed her, tasted her lips, knew then that she was the missing half of my soul.
Ambassador Trazhar leaned back in her chair. “And how did she react?”
“At first she was dubious, but — ”
“But?”
“I convinced her of the truth, Ambassador.”
Of course he could not see the Zhore woman’s face, as they were not connected closely enough to interact without wearing their hoods, but he sensed that she smiled somewhere within those heavy black folds. “It seems you did. Well, then, Lirzhan, you may proceed however you think wise, but do be…discreet. This station is not so large that much passes without someone noticing.”
“I will be very careful.” He hesitated. “But then there is the matter of Mandala itself.”
“Yes. Tell me more of how this accident occurred.”
“It was no accident,” he said flatly.
She sat up a little straighter at those words. The hood tilted to one side. “Explain.”
“The shuttle was deliberately pulled from subspace and fired upon. Once we were on the planet’s surface and made our way to the science station, we were again attacked. It was only after we discovered the mining facility that I realized what the Gaians were up to.”
“Mining facility? I was led to believe that Mandala was an uninhabited and unimproved world.”
“That is precisely what the Gaians want us to believe, Ambassador. But it appears that they have established a mine and a research facility there. I have no idea how precisely it works, but it seems that a certain mineral unique to the planet has a peculiar quality that, when refined and attached to some sort of targeting equipment, is capable of pulling a ship from subspace.”
For a long moment Ambassador Trazhar said nothing. Lirzhan could sense the sudden roil of her emotions, even cloaked and hooded as she was. Outrage first, then worry…then fear.
“This would change things greatly, if the Gaians were able to continue developing this technology. And not for the good.”
“My thoughts as well.”
“And Ambassador Craig? Is she aware of what her people are doing on Mandala?”
“Not yet, Ambassador. We were separated, and it was while attempting to recover her from the mining facility where she was being held captive that I discovered what the Gaians were doing. Afterward, I did not have an opportunity to speak to her in private.”
“Good. Then please do not say anything of this to her.”
He leaned forward. “And why not? Surely she has the right to know exactly why an attempt was made on her life — not once, but several times.”
“Normally I would agree with you, but as she is an agent of the Gaian government, and it is clear that the Gaians have been hiding even more from us than we previously suspected they were, then I think it far better for her to remain ignorant of the subject, at least until I have sent word on to the Assembly back on Zhoraan. It is for them to decide what should be done with this information, but as it violates every treaty currently in existence in regard to safe shipping lanes and the right to uninterrupted commerce, I am sure our government will lodge a formal complaint.” Her voice hardened. “So until that time, you will hold your tongue, Ambassador Lirzhan, whether this woman is sayara or no. Do you understand?”
So many arguments bubbled to his lips, but he knew none of them would do any good. On one level, he did understand Ambassador Trazhar’s position.
That didn’t mean he had to like it.
“As you wish, Ambassador. If I may go now? I have had a wearying several days, and wish to rest and meditate before I take up my new duties tomorrow.” That was all he would allow himself to say. He knew that she would be picking up the resentment and worry churning within him, so there was no need to use any words to express it.
“Go, Lirzhan. You have your liberty for the next twelve standard hours. After that I will expect you to be in your office, beginning your work here.”
It was not as much as he wanted, but better than nothing. He inclined his head, and left the chamber.
It was good to feel human again. Hair washed, face and body clean, makeup carefully applied — Chima Amadi had been very thorough, and so there had been cosmetics and hair products in the small, well-appointed bathroom, in addition to three new suits and assorted underclothing, along with a new pair of boots and another pair of flat-heeled shoes for when the boots were not appropriate. Everything fit, more or less, and seemed stylish enough to Alexa, who had never worried too much about fashion, as long as her outfits were sleek and plain and not likely to go out of style anytime soon.
She sat now in Ambassador Castillo’s office, which wore darker tones than most of the spaces, both public and private, that she’d seen so far on the space station. Here were wine and deep brown and smooth cocoa tones, and real plants drooped graceful green leaves from stands in several places around the room.
“Here you are,” the ambassador said, setting a cup of what smelled like real coffee in front her.
The heavenly aroma reached her nostrils, and Alexa inhaled deeply. When was the last time she’d had a real cup of coffee? There had been none on Eridani, as the senior ambassador didn’t care for it and so preferred to avoid the expense of providing it for his support staff. Obviously that was not going to be an issue here on Targus Station.
“Now, then,” Castillo said, and although his manner seemed kindly enough, something about the almost undetectable narrowing of his dark eyes told her that she would have to watch her step, “tell me about this adventure of yours on Mandala.”
“Ambassador,” she began, then paused. It was so difficult to decide what the best approach was here. She’d known from the beginning that she could mention nothing of her relationship with Lirzhan. Even so, how much should she say about the attempts on their lives? What if Castillo knew something of the operations on Mandala?
No, she could not believe the conspiracy was quite that far-reaching…for the simple fact that the more people knew about something, the greater the chance that someone would slip up and reveal sensitive information. Besides, if Castillo were in on the plot, he would have done whatever he could to prevent
the rescue party from going to the planet to rescue her and Lirzhan.
She took a breath, and continued. “I am not certain exactly what is happening on Mandala. It is clear that someone — most likely Gaian, but perhaps some other interests are involved — has established a secret facility on the planet. They are mining something. I did not have the opportunity to see what precisely it was. What I do know is that the attack on the shuttle was no accident, and neither were the subsequent attacks on Ambassador Lirzhan and myself.”
Throughout this speech Castillo’s heavy black brows were lowering, so much so that by the time he was done, his eyes were partially obscured. “Attacks? What others were there, besides the initial assault on the shuttle?”
“Armed men in a skimmer shot at us the day after we landed in the escape capsule, and again at the science station several days later. I can’t say for certain whether it was the same team or not. Mercenaries, it looked like, but definitely human. And then of course I was detained at the mining facility itself, although I was not mistreated.” Well, that was only a partial lie. She hadn’t been hurt. True, it had seemed clear enough to her that Marquand intended to execute her and Lirzhan, but the rescue team had gotten there first, and so…technically…she wasn’t poorly treated.
The ambassador’s frown did not lessen. “This is…troubling. I will need you to make a full report so that I can send it on to both the Defense Force and the GEC. It sounds as if someone is operating an illegal facility on the planet’s surface, and the authorities will need to know about it.”
Oh, I’m pretty sure they already know all about it. She didn’t bother to say such a thing out loud, though. She could already tell that Castillo knew nothing about what was really going on down on Mandala…or he was one of the galaxy’s best actors. Too bad she didn’t have Lirzhan’s gift of empathy so she could sense whether the ambassador was nervous, whether he was deliberately lying to her.
“Of course, sir,” she said automatically. It would be a carefully edited report, but she’d known all along that she would have to give some account of what had happened to her on the planet’s surface. “Do you need anything else?”
“I’ll have Chima show you your office, get you set up. Ms. Nguyen has already removed all her effects, as she’s leaving on the outbound shuttle tomorrow. Once you’re settled, you can begin with the report. Luckily, the representatives from Miris and Bathsheva won’t be here until the day after that, so you’ll have plenty of time to go over the agreements in question and get ready to sit down at the table with them.” He stood, and extended a hand. “Welcome on board, Alexa. The Consortium would have lost a great asset if you hadn’t survived Mandala.”
“Thank you, Ambassador.” Empty words, but necessary ones. She summoned a smile and left Castillo’s office, only to be greeted by Chima, who rose from her desk, dark eyes warm.
“Let me show you where everything is, Alexa. The office has been cleaned and prepared for you, and the computer set up for your use. The files for the upcoming talks are already there for you as well.”
And so she chattered and smiled, and made Alexa feel far more welcome than she thought she had any right to be. She wondered what Chima would think of her if she’d heard some of the traitorous things Alexa had uttered to Lirzhan back on Mandala. Not so much the good little Consortium drone there. Oh, no.
But she forced those thoughts from her mind and made what she hoped were the appropriate responses, and eventually Chima went back to her own desk and left Alexa alone to make her report. For a long moment she could only stare at the micro-thin screen before her, fingers resting on the virtual keyboard projected on the gleaming desktop. Then, finally,
I was en route to my new assignment on Targus Station when the shuttle I was traveling in was abruptly pulled from subspace and suffered heavy fire. Lirzhan, the Zhore ambassador, and I were able to flee the ship in an escape pod….
Fourteen
Two days passed before Lirzhan had a plausible reason for seeing Alexa. The separation pained him in every fiber of his body and soul, but if he were too importunate in his pursuit of her, someone would be certain to notice. He knew she had participated in the talks with the representatives from Miris and Bathsheva, but as the Zhore were not directly involved in that shipping dispute between the two Gaian-controlled planets, he had no reason to be present.
But then the Eridani ambassador suggested a formal reception to welcome the two new ambassadors to the station, and since the support staff at Targus Station loved nothing more than a party —anything to break up the monotonous routine of their days — the idea went from suggestion to reality quite quickly. The arrangements were made, the invitations issued on the station-wide ’net, and the very next evening a group of some hundred or so beings of various races had gathered in the large chamber used for everything from holiday gatherings to motivational inter-delegation team-building events.
The group from the Gaian delegation came in a little later than the Zhore, and so Lirzhan was already there when he saw Alexa enter, flanked by a tall dark-haired man he knew was Ambassador Castillo, as well as a pretty young woman with skin almost as ebony as Lirzhan’s own. But once he saw Alexa, he barely noticed anything else.
Instead of the severe dark suit that seemed to be the unofficial uniform for Gaian women who held important positions, she wore a fitted long tunic over straight narrow pants, all in a gleaming blue-green fabric with embroidery of a darker teal around the open neckline. For once her dark gold hair was loose on her shoulders. The only ornament she wore was a pair of thin gold hoop earrings.
He had always thought her beautiful, but seeing her now, like this, she took his breath away. In fact, he was so occupied with staring at her that he didn’t even hear the question that Arizhal, Ambassador Trazhar’s assistant, had asked him.
“I beg your pardon?” he said at once, and somehow managed to shift his attention back to the hooded young man who stood next to him.
“I was asking whether this sort of thing was usual protocol,” said Arizhal, who had arrived at Targus Station only a standard week before Lirzhan and Alexa had.
Lirzhan lifted his shoulders. “I am not certain. Targus Station is rather unique in having so many different delegations under one roof, as it were. But I do not think it is that unusual to have some sort of ceremony to welcome new ambassadors. Besides, I have heard that the Eridanis in particular are always looking for an excuse to throw some sort of get-together.”
“Curious. They do seem to be rather pleasure-loving, but even so they are a highly effective race.”
Under the hood, Lirzhan’s mouth twitched. He could not quite decide whether Arizhal were really this pompous, or whether he was just trying to impress one of his superiors. “Yes, they have certainly made a number of very important contributions to the galaxy as a whole. But if you will excuse me — I would like to speak with Ambassador Craig, as we have not had much of a chance to talk with one another after arriving here.” He could only hope he was keeping his anticipation in check, for he did not want his fellow Zhore to know how much he desired to go to Alexa, to be with her, even if it only meant standing a careful distance from each other and engaging in the sort of empty discourse usually required at these sorts of events.
“Oh, yes, Ambassador Craig. You two shared something of an ordeal, after all. She seems to have survived it quite well.”
That might have been a flicker of curiosity at the edge of his words there, as if the younger man would have liked to know exactly what had passed between Lirzhan and Alexa on Mandala. But Lirzhan had said nothing to anyone, save what he had told Ambassador Trazhar during his initial debriefing, and he certainly wasn’t going to start now.
He bowed slightly and made his way across the room to Alexa. She had just picked up a plastic goblet of the pale golden liquid humans referred to as “champagne” when she turned and saw him. The blue eyes lit up — but only for a second. Then her face was a mask of cool politeness as she exte
nded a hand.
“Ambassador Lirzhan.”
“Ambassador Craig.” Even through the thin leathery fabric of his gloves he could feel the warmth of her fingertips, the heat scorching through him all the way down to his loins. In that moment he was very glad of the concealing robes he wore. “You seem to be fully recovered from your ordeal.”
She glanced down at herself. “Too much? Chima insisted that I should be festive.”
“It’s perfect,” he said, barely above a murmur, for these were words he did not want anyone else to hear. “You are perfect. Besides,” he added in more normal tones, “it seems that many of the women here did dress up for the occasion.”
“That’s true. I suppose any excuse to get rid of the business suit will do.” A tilt upward of her head, as a strand of burnished hair touched her cheek before she pushed it out of the way. “Do you Zhore ever get tired of wearing the same thing day in and day out?”
“I hadn’t thought of it,” he admitted. “It is just how it has always been for us.”
“I suppose it does make getting ready in the morning that much easier.”
He could tell now that she was teasing him, but he found he didn’t mind very much. It was so good simply to be near her, to smell the intoxicating sweet scent emanating from her hair, to see the light in those lovely blue eyes of hers. “And how have you been?” he asked in an undertone. “Any questions you have found…uncomfortable?”
“No,” she replied, in an equally low voice. “I made my report as requested, but no one has followed up on it. I don’t know whether to be worried or relieved.”
“Perhaps some of both.” Truly, he was not sure what to make of the situation. He had thought the interests controlling the facility on Mandala would be more proactive in ensuring that word of the operations there did not get out, but perhaps because he had only reported to his own superior, and Alexa had done the same thing, the powers behind the Mandala facility were willing to wait and see what happened next. After all, if their operatives did anything too obvious, they would only be tipping their hand.
The Mandala Maneuver Page 18