by Neil Davies
Through the concussion that scrambled her thoughts, she knew what she must do. She raised the communicator to smash it against the wall, the voice of one of her tutors calling out to her over the years... destroy all evidence that might lead back to the Council, even if it costs your life.
"STOP!"
The shout came from behind her. It was a voice she recognised, a voice that fuelled an anger so strong it overcame her fear and her shock.
She turned, her eyes taking in the Aksian soldiers clambering over the rubble, weapons raised and aiming at her. They had surrounded her in seconds, professional and expressionless as they pointed a dozen guns at the unarmed woman kneeling on her living room floor. But beyond the soldiers, beyond the weapons, she searched the room for the owner of that voice, knowing what she would see but not wanting to believe it. Her initial anger was subsiding in a confusion of pain and nausea but she had to see, had to know for certain.
He stepped out of the settling dust, a handgun holstered at his side, a smile splitting his face.
"Hello Ursa."
She spat dust and blood from her mouth.
"Richard, you bastard!"
She smashed the communicator against the wall, activating the vial of acid that would eat away all vital components, and heard a desperate shout of "alive" before the butt of a gun smashed into the back of her head and she lost consciousness.
Chapter 20
The space station Armistice turned lazily in orbit about the ex-colony world of Stain. It had been built soon after independence, when both funds and skilled technicians were at a low. Consequently its design, although sturdy, was simplistic and, even when it was built, old fashioned. Its tubular central hub sprouted legs like some hideously overgrown spider, and at the end of each leg small clusters of accommodation, recreation and business units gathered. The elegant, modern cruisers that lay idly nearby seemed out of place.
"The Aksian Leader has not arrived yet, but he is expected shortly," said Martin Lichfield, standing smartly to attention before the Controller's desk.
He had slipped into his new role with relative ease and found his comrades generally easy going and friendly, many of them ex-Terramarines like himself. Nevertheless, his new Commanders still seemed happier to assign him solitary duty, such as this information gathering and delivering exercise, rather than teamwork. Perhaps they were just being cautious? Martin suspected the real reason lay in a more physical source, one that stood just behind the Controller.
"He's late. Does that prove to you how much he really cares about all this?" spat Loadra vehemently. He strode away from behind the Controller's chair and turned on the thoughtful man who sat there. "I suspect treachery in this."
The Controller sighed. Perhaps, in the final analysis, Loadra would prove to be too difficult a case to turn around. Perhaps it would be easier just to eliminate him.
He swivelled his chair away from his religious advisor in case his expression revealed his dark thoughts.
"He is not late, Loadra, he is simply arriving after us. There was never any time set for our arrival, only for the signing, and that doesn't take place until tomorrow."
Loadra wanted to shout of the obscenity that was Aks and its bastardised religion, but he held back. He knew from previous encounters that there was no convincing the Controller on this basic issue. Instead, he turned his thoughts to another outrage, another source of anger and dismay.
"Why are we signing this damned treaty here, on 'Armistice'? Why Stain? It's an ex-colony world, allied, surely, with Aks. We are handing ourselves over to our enemies."
"You know the reasons, Loadra. If you choose to ignore them and twist the truth, that's something for your own conscience. Stain is neutral. She was one of the earliest colony worlds to achieve independence and our relationship with her has always been good. And she has never allied herself with Aks. She has remained strictly neutral throughout this bloody war."
"Aks should have been brought to one of our loyal worlds."
The Controller snorted in disgust. "Aks would never have agreed to such a thing, any more than we would have agreed to travel to a world supportive of Aks."
He turned his chair back to face Loadra.
"I can't decide whether you're just stupid or plotting something more devious with this constant complaining and feeble attempts at undermining the peace process."
Loadra reacted as if he had been slapped in the face. He stepped backwards and glanced towards Martin, who still stood to attention by the door to the Controller's cabin.
"Controller, I am shocked that you would suggest such a thing." Loadra bowed his head. "I am always your loyal servant and advisor."
Martin almost laughed. The man was so theatrical.
The Controller seemed to notice Martin for the first time since he had relayed the message. He waved a loose hand towards him.
"You may go. Inform me as soon as the Leader's ship is sighted."
Martin saluted, turned on his heel and marched out of the door. As it slid shut behind him he could hear the conversation start up again, the Controller's accusatory tones, Loadra's pleading obedience, sickening in what Martin saw as its fake loyalty. Surely the Controller could see through such thin and obvious acts? Then why was Loadra still his religious advisor? Why was he still in such an influential government position?
As he headed back towards the barrack quarters, walking now rather than marching, he wondered at how his attitudes had changed in such a short time. Loadra, the High Priest, had always been such a figure of authority and power, demanding respect from those under him. When Martin first joined the army he had been in awe of the man, in awe of the religion he preached so powerfully and with such emotion. Now there was doubt. He saw Loadra as little more than a scheming, lying, manipulative politician, and the religion that he had believed in for so long now continually showed its weaknesses and its uglier aspects. It was not that he doubted Larn, but he doubted those who represented Larn in this world. Nevertheless, he still believed in the Controller, and he believed that this treaty was right and necessary.
He was sick of killing people. At least the Controller seemed to share the horror of the ordinary soldier, the ordinary people, at the slaughter, whereas Loadra... well, Loadra seemed to cling relentlessly to the jihad philosophy, the holy war, that all Earthmen and women were indoctrinated in from early school days. To Martin the jihad was no more. There was no holy war, just bloody, murderous, meaningless war that bred slaughter and barbarism on all sides. They were told so much about the atrocities perpetrated by Aksian soldiers, but he had witnessed some of those the Earth army was guilty of. There could be no good side or bad side in war, only your side and their side, and one was a bad as the other.
Chapter 21
Carina Burfield sunbathed on the bed of Leader Carlton's cabin, her hands clasped behind her head, her legs stretched out, slightly apart. She was naked and enjoying the effect she was having on the Leader as he sat at his desk deep in conversation with Mayor Lane via vid-link. She was also aware that, each time the Leader shifted his position slightly, Mayor Lane, back on Aks, caught titillating glimpses of her recumbent form. She stretched and rolled, turning more towards the screen. Mayor Lane was powerful and, quite probably, the next Leader of Aks. She saw no harm in preparing her ground now. She wanted to be certain the Mayor remembered this call.
Leader Carlton glanced yet again towards the bed. Larn, she was beautiful and he needed her desperately, but for now he must concentrate on Mayor Lane. If he realised that the Mayor could also see Carina, he showed no concern over it.
"Tell me again Mayor. What are you ranting about?"
The Mayor hesitated before answering and Carlton knew he was controlling his anger at the Leader's deliberate choice of words, but it was the Mayor who had instigated this call and Carlton was in no mood to care about hurt pride.
"Earth continues its dirty tricks Leader," said the Mayor, his voice steadier now than it had been since the call b
egan.
"In what way?"
"We have captured one of their agents. My own Personal Assistant!"
"Miss Mirram?" A memory of a harsh, plain woman floated across Carlton's mind and he glanced back towards the delicate and sexual beauty of Carina. The contrast was startling and he almost lost the thread of the conversation. "You say she is an Earth agent?"
"Yes. All these years when she has been privy to my most secret conversations and messages she must have been communicating with Earth."
"And you're certain she works for Earth?"
The Mayor sighed. It was an unquestionable fact in his mind.
"She was discovered trying to communicate with them."
"And you've analysed this communication to confirm the destination?"
The Mayor paused. He hated to admit failure on anything to the Leader, it simply provided him with a smug satisfaction that the Mayor found unbearable.
"She destroyed the communicator before we could stop her, but there can't be any doubt. Who else would she be spying for?"
"Have you interrogated her?"
"No. She is still unconscious from the blow she received and the drugs she was given to keep her under control."
"Well, I suggest you question her and find out who exactly she’s working for before making any further accusations. Don't bother calling back until you have proof."
He switched the vid-link off and stood, already unbuttoning his shirt.
On the bed, Carina smiled. There had been perhaps some risk in being so forward, so blatant, but she was sure it had achieved the desired result. Carlton was desperate for her here and now, and back on Aks, she was certain, the Mayor was thinking of her too.
Chapter 22
The traversable wormhole dropped The Seven Deadly Sins some 80 plus hours from Szuilta at the old ship's cruising speed. It was almost double the average trading distance, but the wormholes had been engineered long before the discovery of Szuilta.
The journey had only recently been assigned as an official trade route, which at least gave some guarantee of safety. Except in the most unusual of cases, the combatants involved in the many and varied interplanetary disputes that raged at any given time in the known galaxy stayed away from the assigned trade routes. All but the most resource-rich of planets relied heavily on imports for survival, and the traders of Sellit held the monopoly on trade. It would not do to risk their displeasure. In consequence, trade ships travelling the agreed lanes were invariably safe from attack and seldom saw any ships except other traders. That, in turn, led to a heavy, crushing boredom.
Most relied on drugs to compensate.
Steve and Jack did not take drugs. It was not a moral position, nor was it a health concern. They just couldn't afford them.
Jack played chess against the computer and lost.
Steve studied star charts, listened to the small selection of music chips he had onboard, and read antiquarian Science Fiction, dreaming of adventure among the stars.
"The Aksian fleet arrived just under an hour ago and is anchored on the opposite side of 'Armistice' from the Earth fleet."
Steve Drake opened his eyes from the semi-sleep he had drifted into and sat up. Jack Holt was already watching the news-holo floating above the control console, showing slightly wavering, flickering images of a spinning space station and, almost invisible among the stars, several space cruisers at anchor.
"Reception's a bit fucked," said Jack, "But it's the best I can do."
"Ssshh," hissed Steve. "I want to hear this."
"Although official sources will neither confirm nor deny it, rumours continue about a military action carried out by Earth forces on their journey here. These rumours have led to increased tension on Aks and further calls for the treaty to be scrapped. The radical elements on the ex-colony world seem to be growing stronger and louder as this historic moment draws near. Leader Carlton continues to insist that the majority of his people are fully behind him. Reaction on Earth is, perhaps predictably, muted. The Earth's population, never one for undue demonstration or effort, seem happy to let events unfold as they may. And so, all seems set for the historic signing of the treaty to go ahead tomorrow as planned."
"Looks like it might actually happen," said Steve as Jack switched off the hologram.
"You sound surprised," said Jack. "You thought something might go wrong with the whole thing?"
"I thought, when they reported that rumoured attack by Earth Terramarines, that Aks might use it as an excuse to pull out. Seems I was wrong."
"You sound disappointed."
"Not disappointed, no." Steve smiled. "Makes you think though doesn't it? I mean, if we'd stayed on Earth and not run away to the Traders... well, we would have been drafted into the army like everyone else. We would have been part of all this."
"If we weren't already dead."
Steve laughed. "Trust you to be morbid." He paused, memories of another life flashing across his mind. "I suppose Martin will have ended up in the army."
"Martin Lichfield? I guess so. I wonder how he managed? He was always so anti-violence, so against that military style of life, taking orders, doing as your told, everything planned and organised."
"He was the intellectual one, definitely. Funny, " Steve closed his eyes again, drifting into a world of wistful reminiscing. "I never would have guessed that Sharon would fall for him, for that type, you know. She was always so wild, so exciting."
"She was also a hell of a lot brighter than me and you put together. Maybe they hit it off that way, intellectually, if you see what I mean? You and Sharon were... well..."
"Sex," interrupted Steve. "Me and Sharon were sex. That's all. Nothing more." But there was a tremble in his voice that said otherwise.
Jack watched his friend for a moment. They had all known that Steve and Sharon were serious, the kind of serious that normally ends up with marriage and a couple of kids. He didn't know the details, didn't know who had said what to whom, but the ending wasn't quite as anyone had predicted. Steve had left for the Traders. Sharon had stayed. Only they knew the truth.
"I heard they got married," he said, the inquisitive nature of his agent's training winning out over the diplomacy of friendship.
Steve seemed to hesitate for a moment before answering.
"So I heard."
"I miss them, you know? Even after all these years, I miss those old days."
"Yes."
There was a finality to the word and Jack understood. Steve did not want to talk about Martin and Sharon anymore. The old wounds, the old feelings were obviously still there, however deeply hidden under the surface of the hard-drinking, womanising Trader image that Steve, and most others in his profession, maintained.
Jack turned back to scanning through the news and magazine holos in search of some interest. The ship could fly itself.
Steve watched him through half open eyes until he was sure the conversation had ended. He closed his eyes again.
Sharon. It was funny how the name still haunted him, still made that little butterfly in his stomach flutter. He didn’t really know if he had loved her, he had been too young to seriously think about such things. They had a good time together, they cared about each other and, yes, they had occasionally talked about their future together, she more than him. And that had been the problem, or at least that's how his memory chose to see it. She had wanted more. She had wanted to settle, to plan, to organise their future while he... well, she had always been the mature one and he had always just wanted to have fun. In the end he had run away, left to ‘make more of myself, find adventure, be a success’, but really he had been running away from Sharon, from a commitment he was not prepared to make.
For a moment he thought of Suzy back on Sellit. Was he doing it all over again? But Suzy was no Sharon. Perhaps he really had loved Sharon?
Shit!
The problem with long space flights was the opportunity they gave for meandering thoughts and memories you would rather not reme
mber.
He pushed himself up from his seat.
"I'm going for a shower."
He was half way towards the door when something hit them and The Seven Deadly Sins was forced into an abrupt and violent deceleration that flung Steve off his feet and sent him sprawling over the seat he had so recently vacated, smashing his head against the console and dragging consciousness from him as he slid to the floor.
Chapter 23
Mayor Lane turned off the newscast in disgust. The treaty was going ahead despite the rumours of new Earth aggression... rumours! It was fact! Carlton knew it was fact, and yet the old bastard was willing to let it go unpunished, allowing the Earth heretics to literally get away with murder. And not only did they attack and kill Aksians while on their way to a peace treaty, but they sent their spies to watch and record everything. They were spying on him, on the Mayor of Aks. That was unforgivable.
He did not share the apparent doubts of the Leader about who Ursa's masters were. Who else but Earth would infiltrate a spy into the very centre of Aksian politics? Who else could she have been reporting to but Earth and its bastardised religious freaks they called a priesthood. What did Carlton know? He was too busy screwing that whore of his to see anything of any sense anymore, and he doubted that she could get any real satisfaction out of it. The old bastard was probably impotent, a failure in bed as everywhere else. He could show her how it should be. He could show her what she had been missing all these years with Carlton. Yes. When he was Leader perhaps he would keep her on as his official mistress. She did have a certain attraction.
The communicator inlaid in his desk blinked. He activated it with a flick of his thumb.