by Neil Davies
Baxter poured himself a drink, sipped it, and sat in a second armchair opposite Braben.
"They won't. Don't worry."
"But I do worry. If the real reason behind my actions ever becomes known, I won't stand a chance. That bitch Chivers would have me executed on the spot, and no one would try to stop her."
"But if you succeed..."
"Yes, if I succeed." Braben smiled, his headache temporarily forgotten. "If I succeed, I become the power behind Aks, and with that kind of military muscle behind me and the support I already have here among the more extreme of our military commanders, it will be simple to remove the Council and make Sellit my base of operations."
Baxter nodded, smiling, sharing his employer's excitement.
"The first steps are already under way. Aks is in turmoil, practically civil war. Walker's rebels grow stronger all the time and he is easy to control. Lane will step up the war against Earth. He has to in order to divert public attention away from the problems at home. Fire up a bit of nationalistic pride."
"Unite the people behind a fight against a common enemy. Yes. It's worked so many times in our history, and Lane doesn't have the imagination to try anything new. With the military effort directed outwards it will make the rebels even bolder."
"Not even the arrival of the Szuiltans can change that. If anything, they make Walker's task easier. Given a choice between alien rule and home rule, which would you choose?"
"Precisely," agreed Braben, his headache receding with the excitement of his thoughts. This had taken years of his life to plan, cultivating various rebel leaders on Aks and other worlds, planting agents loyal to him personally in key positions on a variety of colonial and ex-colonial planets, even on Earth itself. The human race was too disjointed, too varied in its political and social structures. A single source of command was needed, a galactic ruler, an emperor even, who could control and direct with one mind, one purpose. The ease with which the alien Szuiltans had involved themselves in an essentially human conflict was simply an example of the need for this single driving force. Aks was the first where circumstances had fallen right, but others would follow. Rebellion, civil unrest, open warfare. A planet in chaos, waiting for a strong leader, a leader that he, Braben, would control.
"There are some loose ends that need tying up," said Baxter, interrupting Braben's thoughts of grandeur and power.
"Yes," Braben sighed. "It was convenient that Drake insisted on going. He provided us with the perfect tool for stirring things up a bit more, pushing things along."
"Leaking news of his arrival was masterly," said Baxter admiringly. "Took away some of that public support that was keeping Walker and his people soft. Our reports show that they've become increasingly bold and brutal since. They're almost ready to take the battle to the centre of Akasian itself."
"Perhaps," smiled Braben. "But now Drake becomes a liability, especially with Chivers and Jareth probing away. Send the signal to Rawlings immediately. Tell him to kill Drake."
Chapter 52
Carina Burfield lay on her side, face pushed into the carpet, barely holding back the tears that threatened. She felt violated, abused. There may have been no physical forcing, but her situation had been made clear. Either she acted fully as an official mistress or she returned to the asylum.
She would do anything rather than return to the asylum!
Behind her, she heard Leader Lane climb to his feet, listened to his satisfied sigh as he tugged his trousers up from around his ankles, waited until she heard him walk to the door, the soft hiss of it opening then closing.
She rolled onto her back and let the tears come, the retching sobs.
He disgusts me. He revolts me! I can't bear his touch, his body on me, in me. I wish he were dead and not Jimmy.
She pushed herself to her feet, dragging off the clothes he had not already pulled off, and made for the shower, thrusting herself under the water as soon as it came on, heedless of the initial cold, then the increasing heat. She needed to cleanse herself of him, be rid of any odour or sensation of him. She scrubbed furiously, her hands, her breasts, between her legs, everywhere he had touched her or she had touched him.
Jimmy, I miss you so much. You wouldn't have treated me this way, not even at your most angry. You always cared.
She stepped out of the shower and, not bothering to dry, walked back into the lounge. She dropped into a chair, letting the water drip off her, pool on the leather-like covering. She felt that she could sense every movement of air in the room, every breath that rolled over and around her wet skin. She closed her eyes, letting memories slide through her usual defences, the walls she had constructed since that terrible day on Armistice.
I must try and face those memories, confront them, control them. If I can't do that then I'll never be free, never be as I was.
The doctors at the asylum had explained that to her, on one of the rare occasions when they bothered to explain anything to anyone. The shock of her experience had left her traumatised, unable to cope with reality, with life.
For months I could see him, Jimmy, sitting in that cell with me. I could talk to him, laugh, make love.
Her stomach tightened at the memory.
I must have been great entertainment for the bastards in that place!
She tried to calm herself, open her mind, let the scenes that skulked in the dark corners of her thoughts come forward. She knew they were there. They threatened her with their presence so often.
She remembered Armistice. She remembered being woken by the siren, the soldiers taking her to Jimmy. She remembered the corridor, the shouting, the firing, and Jimmy...
Her legs began to twitch, muscles involuntarily tightening. Her fists clenched. Sweat mingled with the water from the shower.
Jimmy, standing up. Get down Jimmy! Don't be a hero. But you are a hero. You are a true leader and I realise it now, I know it.
Her breasts rose and fell rapidly. She gripped the edge of the chair. It was too real, too frightening. She could hear the screams, see the battle raging around her.
Jimmy, I love you... Jimmy! Those shots... the bolargo...
Her eyes snapped open and she barely stifled the scream that tore at her throat. She slid off the chair onto her knees, face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably.
I should just kill myself.
She had tried several times over the first few months, once almost succeeding, only being saved by the quick thinking and medical training of an orderly. But then, as some portion of sanity had returned to her, she had found a meaning to life, a reason for staying alive and getting out of the asylum.
Her own life meant little to her now, but the memory of Jimmy was overpowering. She had not realised that she loved him until it was too late.
The least I can do is try and find out who was really behind the attack.
She had never fully believed the official story. Perhaps there had been rebels within the group, but she could not shake the suspicion that someone close to home, closer to the government, had been responsible.
Lane? I don't think he's got the guts. Perhaps the military, or someone ambitious further down the line?
Whoever it was, she was determined to find out and repay them for the misery they had caused her, and for the violent end to the life of the man she had loved without ever knowing it.
The door slid open suddenly, making her look up, startled.
Leader Lane strode in, followed closely by some junior advisor she could not remember the name of. Lane paused for a moment before crossing to the desk in the corner of the room and pulling some papers from a drawer.
"What are you doing?" he snapped without looking at her. "Get some clothes on. You have to be present when I meet the Szuiltan President in an hour's time."
She stood up slowly, ignoring the obvious staring eyes of the advisor.
"Why? I've no interest in the disaster you're leading this world into."
He turned on her suddenly, his eyes glaring
, and swung the back of his hand round, catching her across the face. She screamed, more in shock than pain, and stumbled against the chair, falling heavily to the ground. Her elbow jabbed agony through her.
"I don't care what you think or believe or have any interest in," he growled. "You are my official mistress and it is the protocol of these events that you should be there, so you will be there, and you will be the ideal hostess, the archetypal mistress of the Leader of Aks."
He's quoting, she thought as she rubbed her elbow, ignoring the stinging of her cheek, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing that he had hurt her. He's saying what he's been told to say.
It was obvious to her, even through the suddenness of the attack, that he was speaking rehearsed lines, ready-made for this situation. His anger was genuine enough, but his words were anything but spontaneous.
I wonder who's pulling the strings?
She climbed once more to her feet, noting how the advisor's eyes never left her.
He wants me, she thought as she turned a slight smile in his direction, watching him look away with embarrassment, only to look back again with only the barest of hesitations. He might prove useful to me in the future.
"I'll be there, and I'll be good. Larn knows I've played hostess at enough similar occasions in the past, when we had a real Leader."
For a moment she thought he was going to hit her again, and she flinched involuntarily. But, despite the anger in his eyes, he refrained from striking out and, instead, strode back towards the door, picking up the advisor in his wake.
"I'll send someone for you when it's time," he said without turning, as he left the room.
Hostess at an official engagement, she thought. Yes, I've done plenty of those before. She shuddered. But never one for anything like the Szuiltan President!
Chapter 53
A morning mist swirled soothingly around Tina Harrison's feet as she and Martin Lichfield strolled through the unprotected forest that sat incongruously within the bounds of the Earth Controller's official residence.
Dawn had broken less than an hour before and bird song filled the air around them. A slight drizzle began to fall from the open sky and she turned her face upwards, smiling, almost laughing as the moisture covered her face with a refreshing sheen.
"It seems so long since I felt something like this," she said, looking at Martin who had turned the collar of his jacket up against the damp. "Why does natural rain like this feel so much better than the stuff created by weather control systems? Theoretically it's all the same, so why can't they reproduce this?" She spread her arms and turned her face skywards again.
"Not even Reagold's weather control systems?" said Martin, a hard edge of sarcasm in his voice. "I thought nothing was beyond your corporation?"
She slipped off her light jacket and threw it to him.
"You can't goad me into an argument, not on a morning like this."
Martin watched her turn and walk deeper into the forest. He was aware of her entourage moving in the trees around them at a respectful distance, but he could not shake the overriding impression that they were alone out here, two lovers taking a morning stroll through the countryside. He saw her stop, turn, and wait for him to join her.
For a moment he did not move, simply watched as the drizzle became rain and began to mould the thin dress around her breasts, her nipples dark and inviting, her hips, the gentle curve of her abdomen, along the length of her thighs. He felt the familiar beginnings of lust stirring within him. They had been lovers for just under a month, and what began as duty quickly became pleasure. But the guilt...
Sharon. What could I say to you to make you understand?
He hurried to Tina, offering to return her jacket. She shook her head.
"It's only rain. I want to feel it all over me."
She threw her arms around his neck and crushed her mouth against his. He responded without hesitation but became suddenly aware of the Reagold entourage around them. There was suspicion among them. Suspicion and, in at least one case, jealousy.
I need to watch Roland. He hates me. If it should come to it, he is the one who would kill me without hesitation.
Tina pulled away laughing.
"If we were truly on our own, I'd have you right here, on the forest floor."
She pulled his hand to her breast, pressed his fingers against the wetness of her dress.
I don't think I love him, she thought, but he makes me feel so alive, so young. I want him desperately.
Her thoughts turned to the Director and the smile fell. What would he do if he found out about this affair? Would he be jealous? Did he see her as his alone? She knew she had not betrayed the corporation in any way, but the thought that he might see this as a personal betrayal frightened her. His power was absolute within the corporation. This could be both professional and personal suicide.
Yet I can't stop. I need this man so much that I'm willing to take the risk. And yet I say I'm not in love? Am I sure?
She shook her head, disturbed by the thoughts swirling in her head.
"Are you all right?" said Martin, concerned by the worried frown that had invaded her otherwise cheerful face.
"Fine," she said, her smile slowly returning. "I was just thinking about how our affair might affect my career, my life. Selfish, I know, but..." she shrugged, "I didn't get this far by putting other people first."
"I don't think you're being fair on yourself," said Martin, aware of how pathetic his concern sounded in light of his orders from the Controller. What he was doing was a job of work. That he gained some considerable pleasure from it was a bonus, but it was still work, an assigned task which he had agreed, reluctantly, to undertake. He felt suddenly sick, nauseous with guilt over what he was doing to Sharon, what he was doing to Tina.
I really am nothing more than a whore.
"What I'm trying to say," continued Tina, her voice soft, almost a whisper, "is that this is the first time I've risked my career over anything even remotely personal. My career, the Reagold Corporation, has always come first, always been my priority, yet now..." Her voice trailed off and she turned away from him, thoughtful.
She's falling in love with me, he realised. This is going further than it was ever intended. I'm not sure I can do this much longer.
He looked to where she stood in the rain, hair flat and glistening over her shoulders, her dress clinging to a body still trim and shapely despite her age. His eyes were pulled to the curve of her buttocks, the absence of underclothes made apparent by the rain, and he knew one fact above all others.
I want her.
As the sun climbed towards noon, it cast its light through the rain that still fell on the nearby forest and into Tina Harrison's bedroom.
Martin flicked the bedside switch to polarise the window and cut the glare to a manageable level. Tina stirred beside him, half asleep, her nakedness pressed against him, her head on his chest, tousled hair sprayed over him in curiously enticing patterns.
He bathed in the warm tiredness that came from being entirely satisfied by their recent lovemaking. He could not remember it ever being better with Sharon, although at first they had added the gentleness of genuine love to the animal act, and that thought would normally have bothered him. But not now. Now he lay still and enjoyed the feelings that still trembled through his body.
"What are you thinking about?" Tina's voice was deep, husky, a strangely animal sound that set butterflies fluttering in Martin's stomach.
"Nothing in particular."
She lifted her head and looked up at him.
"Were you thinking about your wife?"
Martin half smiled. She's done some checking on me then. That's only to be expected.
"No, not about my wife. We've drifted apart lately. If we were still close I wouldn't be here."
"That's nice. Any sort of fidelity is nice to see these days."
Martin laughed. "A strange thing to say, given how often I've been unfaithful this last month.
"
"Perhaps." Tina rolled away from him onto her back and sighed. "Oh shit. I'm going to have to get up. I've got a meeting with the priests this afternoon."
Martin watched her push herself up from the bed and cross to the bathroom. It had been so easy to start this affair, far easier than he had expected. It had been obvious from the moment he was introduced that she was attracted to him and he had let matters take their natural course, careful not to rush them. It was important she suspected nothing, that she thought all this to be of her own design.
The affair is easy, he thought. It's the rest of it I find so hard.
"Is the meeting going to be a long one?" he called after her. "You know the priests won't allow me to be around for these sessions of yours."
He heard the shower start, imagined her stepping under it, the water cascading over her body.
Larn. She's turned me into some kind of animal. I can't think of her without wanting her.
"Shouldn't be too long." Her voice was muffled by the shower. "Loadra's in on this one, and he never likes to be around me for longer than absolutely necessary. He's been like that ever since our first meeting way back."
Way back? It wasn't much, but it suggested a time before their recent meetings on Earth. It was the first time she had given even a hint of such a thing. Perhaps the Controller was right about the two of them.
"Perhaps when he's known you longer he'll feel differently?"
The shower stopped and he heard her wet footsteps on the bathroom floor.
"He's known me long enough," she said, coming back into the bedroom, throwing the towel to Martin. He climbed out of bed and began towelling her down.
"Loadra is one of those bastards who makes up his mind about you quickly, right at the start," she said, her eyes closed, a slight smile on her face from Martin's ministrations. "Probably even before he's met you."