“Accident, you mean?” asked Geoff.
“Murder.”
“Thought so,” muttered Geoff.
“How did you find out?” inquired Jimjoy. “About the Impies?”
“Thelina stopped by. Said she didn’t know whether you were a charming liar, a lying charmer, guilty by association, or just guilty. She isn’t holding her breath, but she does suggest you take the next shuttle to Thalos—the long way. She’ll worry about the rest of the budget and the students, Oh, hades!”
Kerin turned to Geoff. “Here comes the entire second class. Can you get out there and keep them directed or misdirected?”
“Sure, but—”
“Thanks, Geoff.”
As he left, Geoff gave Jimjoy a look. The look said: You’re in for it.
“I don’t know what you did, if you did, or why, but she’s gone so far out on the proverbial limb for you she’ll never get back. I hope—never mind.” Kerin Sommerlee shook her head. “Just putting you two on the same planet together…we didn’t even ask for you…Sam thought—”
“Out on a limb? Why? Supporting my training idea?”
Kerin turned from looking at the incoming group to Jimjoy, black eyes drilling into him. “Training idea? Do you really think she’ll be able to conceal the fact that you plan to develop a team of killer commandos that will eventually match or exceed the Imperial Special Operatives? Do you think the Fuards would let you? Or the Matriarchy?”
“Who would believe it?”
“If it were anyone but you, no one.”
Jimjoy sighed. “Kerin, they don’t know it’s me.”
“Not yet. But how many more people will be the victims of trumped-up murder-suicides, or accidents? Why can’t the Empire just leave us alone? Why can’t you and Thelina leave us alone? Why can’t my girls just grow up without living through this war you seem determined to start?”
Jimjoy looked back at her, sadly. “They can. You can. Just welcome the Imperial reeducation teams, the fifty percent income levies, and the security guards on every corner in Harmony for as long as it takes for you to become dutiful little Imperial citizens.”
“That’s fine for you. You haven’t already lost your lover. You don’t have two little girls you have to leave every time you go into the field. You don’t have to wonder if you’ll come back. Or if they’ll remember you when you don’t. Or who will take care of them when the cause has taken their mother and their father.
“What will you say to Carill when Geoff doesn’t return? Or to Shera and Jorje? You’ll return. We won’t. The gods of war aren’t merciful to those of us who don’t glory in it.”
“I didn’t know…” Jimjoy’s voice trailed off momentarily. “And I didn’t ask you to go. I asked for volunteers, I didn’t ask Geoff.”
“No. You didn’t know about us. But you didn’t ask, either,” Kerin looked at the polished stone floor. “Sam did, and now I can’t even argue. He left hostages behind. So I want to blame someone…and you’re that someone.”
Jimjoy took a deep breath, absently noting that the pine-resin smell was stronger in the office. “Sorry. Still think it has to be done—if your daughters are to have a chance for what you want for them.”
“You’re an easy man to respect”—she looked back at him—“but a hard man to like. And probably harder to love. Thelina’s my friend.” She paused and caught his eye. “I don’t like to lose friends, either. Or see them hurt.”
Jimjoy looked away this time, swallowing. What he didn’t know about people…what he hadn’t wanted to know? He shook his head slowly.
Kerin shook her head even as he did.
For some reason, he wanted to hold her, to tell her things would be all right, to lie about the future. Instead, he forced himself to look back at her. She was staring at him, and there was darkness in both their eyes.
They stood there in the dimly lit office, neither speaking.
“You’d better get moving.”
Jimjoy nodded, then reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For reminding me.” As he slipped toward the back of the office, toward the door leading to the staff dressing room, he swallowed again, thinking about Kerin’s two girls, wondering if they looked like their mother, and about Geoff’s Shera and Jorje.
As a Special Operative, he hadn’t had to worry about the incidentals—except they weren’t incidentals. Not any longer. He moistened his lips as he began to strip off the jacket even before reaching his locker.
No, not incidentals….
XXVIII
JIMJOY SWALLOWED ONCE, moistened his lips, and took the wooden stairs evenly.
Around him swirled the gray mist that was a combination of frozen rain and fog, lending an unreal atmosphere to the late afternoon.
Thelina should have been back from the field training staff meeting. But “shoulds” didn’t always translate into reality. Especially where she was concerned. And her message had been clear. Get to Thalos. But he couldn’t leave without saying what he had to say.
Chuurrruppp…
The raucous call of a jaymar echoed from one of the bare branches hidden in the mist.
Jimjoy grinned fleetingly as he stepped up to the door, pleased at the scavenger’s call of support. At least he felt it was support of some sort.
Thrapp. Thrapp.
He waited, hearing the muffled sound of feet on the wooden floor inside, wondering whether Thelina or Meryl would open the door.
A sliver of golden light, followed by a breath of warm air—trilia-and cinnamon-scented—spilled onto the porch where he stood as the door opened.
“Oh….” Other than offering momentary surprise, Thelina’s face was unreadable.
“Sorry. I’d just like a moment, if I could.”
“Come on in.” Thelina still wore a set of field greens, muddy beneath the knees, and a set of heavy greenish socks. “I just got back—literally.” Her left hand flipped toward her legs. “As you can see.” A smudge of dirt or mud on her left cheek almost appeared like a bruise, and her short hair was damply plastered against her scalp. She stepped back.
Jimjoy closed the door and glanced into the main room. Even from the foyer he could feel the warmth of the fired-up wooden stove. “Too cold to get cleaned up yet?”
Thelina nodded as she gingerly eased herself into one of the straight-backed wooden armchairs closest to the stove. “I’m also too tired. Sit down. You had something in mind?”
Jimjoy took the other wooden armchair, sitting on it at an angle to face her. He looked at her face, catching the almost classical lines as she closed her eyes momentarily. The warm light of the lamps and the flicker of orange from behind the mica of the stove lent a hint of softness to the cleanness of her features, to eyes and a nose perhaps a touch too strong in full sunlight.
What had she been like before?
“You had something in mind?” she repeated.
“Sorry…just thinking.” He straightened up in the chair. “You put yourself directly on the line for me. Why?”
“I didn’t do it for you. I did it because your program is the only chance Accord or the Institute has—and because I promised Sam I would, no matter how I felt about you.”
“Hades…Sam could have ensured a successor…couldn’t he?”
“Yes.”
Jimjoy turned in the chair, glancing through the glass of the sliding door at the mist outside. Beyond the far deck railing he could see only vague outlines cloaked in gray.
“Either he didn’t want a successor, or…”
“Or?”
“Nothing.” He understood, he thought. All of the first-class strategic brains at the Institute were women. And Accord was not the Matriarchy, but an Imperial colony.
“Nothing? You came over here in the rain to bother an exhausted woman for nothing?”
He sighed. “No. I came to thank you. I came to tell you that I still care for you, and I came to admit that
you were right. I was attracted to a facade at first. I admit it. But I’ve seen enough to know that the facade isn’t a facade, that it reflects you. And I wish Sam simply could have named you his successor.”
“Me?” Thelina sat up, looking surprised for the first time he had known her.
“Seems clear to me. For the most part, once you leave Sam and Gavin Thorson out, the sharpest of the Senior Fellows are women. You, Meryl, Kerin, Analitta…”
“What about you?” Her voice was softly curious.
“Me?” He felt like an echo. “I’m too new, too unknown. Too much of a lone wolf. I could do something about as big as my training group.” He broke off. “That was why I came—to tell you how much your support meant, especially when you don’t care that much for me.” He stood up and faced the window, where the twilight had begin to darken the mist and reduce the visibility further.
“Anyway…”
“That’s not quite what I said.” Her correction was also soft, though her voice did not sound tired.
Jimjoy shrugged without looking back at her. “I don’t know that I’ll see you again for a while.” If ever, he thought, the way things are going now. “And I wanted you to know”—he swallowed—“that you were right…and that I still care for you. Didn’t want to leave without telling you.” He turned and looked at Thelina.
She had left the chair and taken a step toward the door, not exactly toward him, but not avoiding him, either. She stepped to the glass beside him.
For a time, nearly shoulder to shoulder, they watched the mist swirl around the deck and the trees beyond, slowly darkening with the twilight. As they watched, he realized again how tall she was, something hard for him to believe for all her grace. Finally, his right hand found her left, and his fingers slipped into hers.
“Why do we fight so much?” he asked softly.
“Because I don’t trust men, and you don’t trust women.”
“Could we try?” His fingers tightened around hers, but he did not dare to look at her.
“Only one at a time…”
She returned the pressure, and he could feel the strength in her long fingers. As strongly as he had pressed, she had answered.
Jimjoy turned toward her, and found her turning to him, her eyes looking into his. He found his hands touching her cheeks, drawing her face toward him, even as her hands found his shoulders.
Outside, the darkness dropped through the fog like foam from the fast-breaking night.
In time their lips dropped away from each other, and they stood, wrapped in each other, unwilling to let go, holding to the moment.
“I’m still filthy…and tired…”
Her breath tickled his ear.
“Do you want a shower?”
“Not a joint shower…not yet. Remember, I hardly know you.” But there was laughter in her voice.
“I hardly know me.”
“We’ll get to know you together…slowly…Jimjoy.”
“That’s the first time you’ve ever used my name.”
“I don’t believe in easy familiarity.”
“I’ve noticed,” he whispered dryly.
She laughed again, softly, and he marveled at the hint of bells in her voice.
“Well, it’s about time you two got that over with,” announced a voice from the foyer.
They turned, not quite letting go of each other.
Meryl was grinning with every tooth in her mouth showing. “Now, maybe you can concentrate on planning the revolution.”
“That may be hard,” noted Jimjoy to Thelina, “since you’ll be here and I’ll be on Thalos.”
“Security has to inspect all installations periodically. I’m overdue for Thalos.”
He wrapped both arms around her, bear-hug fashion, and she reciprocated.
“Good thing for us lesser mortals that you two confine your affections to each other. A hug like that would break anybody else’s ribs,” Meryl remarked from the landing as she headed up to her room.
“I have to go…the shuttle…”
“I know…but…I do inspect, Professor, and don’t forget it.”
“How could I? How could I?”
XXIX
JIMJOY GLANCED AROUND the rough-hewn rock room, then at the group of twenty-plus fourth-year students and apprentices packed inside it. When the asteroid base had been built, it had not been designed for large meeting rooms.
Part of their training would consist of using new equipment to enlarge the quarters and facilities on Thalos, since the Institute would need additional off-planet facilities—hopefully for a long time to come.
In the meantime, the room was already getting uncomfortably warm, increasing the odor of oil and recycled air.
“You all know why you’re here, I presume…” His tone was not quite overtly ironic.
Mera Lilkovie, in the third row, nodded.
“So why doesn’t someone tell me?”
“Because Accord is about to rebel against the Empire…”
“…we want to be free…”
Jimjoy waited until the words had died down.
“All of what you say is true, in a way, but no one yet has wanted to tell you the rest of what’s going on…and I don’t, either. But you deserve it, and anyone who doesn’t want to stay on this team after I explain doesn’t have to. But you will spend six weeks on one of the asteroid stations. And you’ll understand that, too, after the explanation.”
A few frowns crossed faces in the back.
“It’s very simple. Without a new Prime, there’s no real authority at the Institute, and no one wants to take chances. If we wait until that’s sorted out, Accord will be under military occupation with a military reeducation team in place. I’ve seen military reeducation.” He paused. “How many of you have…seen the debriefing on what happened on New Kansaw?”
This time nearly the entire room nodded.
“New Kansaw is the third system which has been ‘reeducated’ in the past decade. Unless we do something, Accord will be next.”
“But…”
“How…”
“…against the resources of the Empire…”
Once more he waited until the murmurs had died down.
“You were all approached because you are troublemakers of a particular sort. You prefer action. You tend not to take anyone’s word for anything. You’re going to have to take mine—since we’re going to succeed.
“Without a fleet, without a large standing military force, we will quietly become independent and probably free a large number of other Imperial colonies or dependencies as well.” Jimjoy managed to keep a straight face.
“Wait a stan, Professor. Just how do you propose this miracle?”
“By doing the impossible. First, we will take over Accord orbit control and operate it as if it were still Imperially controlled—except for some obvious gaps in information we will not pass along. Second, we will undertake certain steps to ensure that the Empire cannot mount a full-scale military attack against Accord.”
“…right…”
“…so obvious…and so wrong…”
This time the muttering went on for a while.
Finally, Jimjoy stood up straight. “TEN-HUTTTTTTTTT!!!!”
The sound reverberated through the chamber, stilling it, though none of the students and apprentices physically responded to the ancient command.
“Thank you. The Institute does not believe in either exaggeration or hyperbole. I am here to train you to help accomplish both tasks. Successful completion of this course entails advancement to journeyman status in applied ecologic management tactics—a new field for the Institute, but the privileges and status are just as valid and real for all the newness.
“As the old saying goes, that is the good news. The bad news is that half of you will be engaged in extremely hazardous efforts and about thirty percent of you may not live to see advancements to Senior Fellow status. Of course, if enough of you don’t undertake this effort with me, we’
ll all be dead, exiled beyond the Rift, or on the mushroom farms.”
He looked over the group—quite silent as the implications of what he had said penetrated. “I realize fully that I have given you insufficient information for an informed decision. Any more information for anyone not committed to the effort will cost lives of those who are.
“I can only stress that I am personally completely committed and that I’m not associated with losing ventures.” He paused and glanced across the open and young faces. “Some of you may know I almost didn’t survive several of my ventures and that Accord is my home by choice, not birth. Some of you will die. I wish there were another way. Neither I nor the other Institute fellows associated with this effort can see one.
“This is not a lark, and it is just the beginning of a long struggle. Those of you who choose to join the team will go down in history—one way or the other. You have until tomorrow to make your decision.”
Then he turned and walked out. His steps echoed off the stone and into the silence.
XXX
“ROOSVELDT, CLOSURE IS green. Delta vee on the curve. Commence backburst.”
“Stet, OpCon. Commencing backburst.”
Jimjoy moistened his lips, listening. He glanced over at Arnault, watching the youngster check the small tank he carried for at least the fourth time in as many minutes. Lined up behind Arnault, the rest of the squad waited, each Ecolitan carrying some apparatus vital to the operation—a tank, laser welders, or cutters. Everyone carried stunners. The only weapons intended to cause death were the knives in Jimjoy’s belt.
“Roosveldt, delta vee excessive. Increase backburst. Increase backburst.”
“OpCon, increasing backburst.”
Jimjoy tapped Arnault on the shoulder. Arnault nodded and tapped the next Ecolitan apprentice.
Jimjoy wanted to shake his head. Mounting an operation mainly with apprentices was crazy, but they had to start somewhere, and the handful of Senior Fellows who would have been helpful were too valuable to risk.
“Roosveldt, increase backburst. INCREASE BACKBURST…”
WHHHHHSsssssstttt…
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