Counter-Measures

  Sinklar craned his neck to see Chrysla. She'd leaned forwarded, a gleam in her amber eyes. "Who better than the Lord Commander's wife?"

  "No - " Staffa said hoarsely. "I will not see you placed at risk again. "

  "My Lord," Chrysla gave him a level gaze, "this is a time for risks. Rysta is right, and you know it. If you seek to reassure an entire population with a political figurehead, only the Lord Commander would carry more weight than his wife. Before you deny me, you had betterconsider the psychological implications very carefully."

  Mac looked like he'd swallowed something he couldn't digest.

  "No." Staffa said firmly, despite the smile of appreciation he gave her.

  "That's my final word on the matter. Mac, if you and Rysta can stabilize the situation, we'll send a governor posthaste on a special CV. "

  Chrysla had crossed her arms, a determined light shining in her amber eyes.

  Staffa turned his attention to the others around the table. "In the meantime, people, we have to scramble. Each of US

  hag-our duty. Sinklar and I will travel to Targa and investigate the potentials of the Mag Comm. Kaylla Dawn will coordinate communications from Itreata. Dion, you and your fleet can cover most of the Regan Empire with half of my ships for backup. Tap will use the other half of the Companion fleet to protect and coordinate Sassan space."

  "What about Ily?" Mac insisted doggedly.

  "We'll worry about her when we get the luxury," Sinklar told him. "I want her as badly as anyone, Mac, but first things first. Let's keep people alive. When we know we have a future, then we can hunt Ily down."

  Mac's jaw muscles knotted, and anyone could see he was anything but convinced.

  Still, he nodded his assent.

  The look on Staffa's face betrayed his desperation. "We face a very difficult task. The problems will be immense but remember the stakes. If we fail ...

  well, there won't be much left of humanity in another year or two. Let's get to work. I'll be on the bridge if you need me."

  Staffa pushed to his feet, striding from the room. Chrysla stood for a moment, brow furrowed in thought. Then, she, too, stepped out-much to Mac's relief.

  "Dion?" Tasha asked "If I could see you for a moment, we'd better coordinate how we're going to handle this." Sinklar stood, a curious hollowness inside as he gave Shik

  a reassuring smile and stepped forward. "Shik? Is it all right?

  Shiksta's black eyes gleamed, fired from within. "Yeah, Sink. It's all right."

  At that, the big man turned and left the room.

  Building unease tickled in Sinklar's gut.

  "Ready to go get 'em, boy?" Rysta asked Mac as she shoved back from the table and stood. Her joints played a symphony of crackles as she straightened. She winced, the wrinkles rearranging on her dark skin.

  "Yeah." Mac answered, his attention on Sinklar's worried expression as he spoke with Shik and then to Ayms and Axel. "Listen, I need to talk to Sink for a bit. Given the speed at which things are starting to happen, I may not get another chance."

  Rysta studied him knowingly. "I'll send the shuttle back as soon as I get to Gyton. "

  "Thanks. " Mac hurried after Sinklar as he left the room, matching steps with his friend as he started down the long white corridor. "You got a minute?"

  Sinklar gave him a crooked grin and nodded. "For you? Anytime. I was just going back to call Anatolia. Let her know how the meeting turned out."

  Mac turned sober eyes on his friend. "Keeping in that close a touch? You're not charging headlong into another disaster with a woman, are you?"

  Sinklar chuckled. "No, Mac. " Then his expression became serious. "You warned me about Ily-and I still fell into her trap. You were right, Mac. I screwed it up. If it hadn't been for you, I'd have lost it all."

  "Yeah, well, don't worry about it."

  Sinklar placed a hand on Mac's shoulder. "I'm not forgetting ... about anything. Where we've been, what we've done." He shook his head. "Somehow it seems like I always fail you, one way or another. " His voice dropped. "Like at Makarta.

  "You didn't fail me." Mac slapped Sinklar on the back. 'So, what about Anatolia?"

  "She's a lot like Gretta. Strong. Been shot at and hurt. I found out about Ily by accident. Accessed one of 7balt's files by a random fluke of luck. There it was, all laid out for me to read like the sucker I was. "

  Sinklar chuckled grimly. "I went back to see my parents ... to see their bodies. You know, looking for a centering place. Anatolia was there in the lab, working late. She was sleeping in the women's restroom because she'd been chased out of her apartment during the riots."

  "And you couldn't leave her in the women's toilet?" Mac smacked his lips. "Ah, chivalry isn't dead."

  "You're a hell of a one to talk. Turns out you couldn't pull the trigger when you thought you had Arta Fera in your sights. "

  "Different situation," Mac growled defensively. "How did you know?"

  "Her eyes. Arta has animal eyes; Chrysla's were shocked, scared, disbelieving."

  "You almost wiggled off your chair in there when she wanted to go to Ashtan. That's where she's from, you know. "

  "I know. " Mac lengthened his pace, adrenaline starting to pump in his veins.

  "Want some advice?" "I'm not sure that I do."

  Sinklar hurried his pace to match Mac's, stating, "Sure you do, especially since you're always giving me advice, I ought to be able to give some back."

  "There's nothing to say about Chrysla. Blessed Gods, Sink, she's your mother!"

  "My advice is to contact her, ask her to go with you." "You've lost your mind!

  She's Staffa's wife! She's on his ship! "

  "And like you've pointed out, she's my mother! If Staffa says anything, tell him I told you to do it! "

  Mac smacked his forehead. "You're trying to get me killed! Besides, what makes you think she'd want to go with me?

  "Intuition . . . and something Anatolia told. me." "Wonderful! Pus-Rotted Gods! What does Anatolia know about Chrysla?

  "She has a talent for reading people."

  Mac clamped a sialon fist on his sudden flaring of hope. Forget it! "You sided with Staffa back there. You didn't look like you enjoyed it."

  Sinklar slowed before his hatch and palmed the lock plate. "We're stuck, Mac.

  " Sink shook his head as he stepped inside. "I don't know what to think.

  Anatolia and'I had a long talk about it. She made a pretty good argument that I have to at least give him a chance."

  "Anatolia said this?" Mac bit his lip. Sink? Are you sure you can trust her?

  Who is she? Where did she come from? Sinklar studied Mac thoughtfully, as if reading his mind.

  "I trust her opinion, Mac. Besides, I thought you were always favorably disposed toward the Star Butcher. Second thoughts about Staffa?"

  "Favorable? Yeah, I suppose I am. I watched him offer himself up to save his friends . . . and his enemies-which included me and my Section-from Rysta's bombardment. He didn't have a clue that Skyla was about to drop on Gyton like a rock. He meant everything he said. " Mac spread his arms. "To date, he's always kept his word."

  Sinklar turned away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Perhaps he has. But where does that leave us?"

  Mac walked over to the desk and sat on the corner, one foot dangling. "Who knows, but one thing's sure. We're all going to be working together. It will take time, but if we're all in the same comm net, all acting in the same military capacity, distrust will vanish."

  "It's Staffa's role in this that I question." Sinklar stood with feet braced, hands clasped behind him. "I still don't buy the fact that a man who kills billions in war becomes a benevolent despot in peace.

  "I can't speak to that, Sink. I can only tell you that he's always dealt fairly with me. And that morning on Rega, he didn't have to. "

  Sinklar shot an angry glance at the walls around him, as if he suspected eavesdropping. "Well, no'matter, we're in now. Time will tell." Sinklar tapped his thumb me
aningfully on the vibraknife.

  Mac rubbed his face, a feeling of exhaustion creeping over him. "You know, we've come a long way from that first drop outside of Targa."

  "A long way indeed," Sinklar agreed, smiling wistfully. "So many dead. So much pain to end up living at the Star Butcher's pleasure. "

  "You've heard these Seddi broadcasts about the quanta? You could almost believe them."

  "I'm going to keep an eye on the Seddi, Mac. " Sinklar shook his finger. "I hear that Bruen is out, retired. But by the Blessed Gods, if I see them pull one shady deal, I'll .

  Mac raised an eyebrow.

  Sinklar knotted a fist. "I'll do something. I promise that on Gretta's grave.

  "

  Mac dropped his gaze, staring at his armor, polished on the knees and elbows.

  Gretta's loss wobld follow them throughout their lives. Her encouraging smile, and the sparkle in her blue eyes had kept them going, kept them alive during the hard days on Targa. Her murder by the Seddi had torn Sinklar's soul out and left a bruise on Mac's.

  "We both loved her, Sink." And knowing that, are you sure you're ready for Anatolia Daviura? He couldn't even

  allow himself to think the rest: Or will she drive a wedge into that special relationship we've sharedfor so long?

  Mac gazed absently at the floor. Was that really it? He shook his head and pushed off the desk. "Hey, I'd better be getting back to Qyton. I just wanted a couple of minutes. You know, just to talk. Seems like we haven't had the time for that recently."

  "I'm glad, Mac Sinklar stepped forward and threw his arms around Mac. "I never got to tell you what a wonderful job you did. The strike against Imperial Sassa was a masterpiece."

  ' 'Yeah, right." And I killed, am still killing, millions of people, Sink.

  "Sure played hell with the empires, though, didn't it?"

  "It was a step on the way to unification. " Sinklar slapped him soundly on the back. "And, Mac? Thanks for breaking me out of Ily's clutches. Ana and I will never forget."

  Ana and you? "No problem. If you ever get in a fix like that, holler, I'll come a running." Mac pushed his friend back, staring into Sinklar's different colored eyes. "Take care of yourself. "

  Sinklar narrowed one,eye in a skeptical squint. "What's wrong, Mac?

  "Wrong? Nothing. Just got a lot on my mind. The Accursed Gods know what we'll find on Ashtan. " I hope you're happy, Sink.

  , It wouldn't hurt to ask Chrysla if she wants to go with you, you know."

  " I'll think about it." Mac turned for the hatch, stopping as he slapped the lock plate and looked back, aware of the sudden worry growing in Sinklar's eyes. He looks like he's seeing me for the last time. "What's wrong?"

  Sinklar shook himself, as if throwing off some disquieting premonition.

  "Nothing. See you down the way somewhere - "

  "Watch your backside." Mac stepped into the corridor, calling over his shoulder. "Targa!"

  "Targa! " Sinklar shouted back, following to stand in the hatchway as Mac strode purposefully down the shining white corridor.

  The entire way, he could feel Sinklar's upset stare burning into his back.

  Staffa strode onto Chrysla's bridge, excitement pumping vigor into his steps.

  They had a chance! Now, if only he could balance the wobbling tray of humanity long enough to keep the unstable worlds from rolling off like so many eggs.

  The bridge hummed with activity, First Officers monitoring their boards, alert for any irregularity. The overhead screens displayed locations and status reports on various Regan vessels. Other detectors monitored the situation on the planet, listening in on various communications.bands.

  "Status report?" Staffa asked as he dropped into his instrument-studded command chair.

  Lynette Helmutt straightened from where she stared over the Comm First's shoulder. "The Regans are starting to wake up to what's happening. Some of them are becoming a little nervous. The chatter's picked up over most of the bands. Outlying communities are still calling in reports of comm outage and demanding that it be fixed."

  "Contact Dion Axel as soon as she checks in. Coordinate with her. You'll have to be her ears and eyes for a while." "She'll cooperate? No surprises?"

  Lynette asked.

  "I think she understands the situation. The Regan military will listen to her-and you're going to have to put soldiers on the ground where people can see them. " Staffa sighed. "Let's hope Sinklar's training is as good as he thinks it is."

  "Right." Lynette turned back to the Comm First. "Get me a line to Axel's command. " That done, she added, "Lord Commander? I don't know if it's, important, but something's happening at the Ministry of Internal Security. The dish on the roof might have received a communication. We're not sure. Sometime later, we think it powered up and broadcast. Might have been a mistaken command put into the system by our people. " I

  "Find out. Get a directional fix on that Rotted dish. Ily had to run so fast that maybe she left something behind." Staffa leaned back, eyes narrowed. And if she had, maybe they could get a line on her whereabouts.

  "Yes, sir. " Lynette bent over the Comm First, issuing instructions.

  Staffa triggered the control that extended his command chair monitor console.

  As the screen firmed up, he ordered, "Comm, connect me with Itreata. I need to speak with Magister Dawn."

  "Affirmative. One moment."

  As the dish powered up, Staffa replayed the events at the meeting. He'd achieved consensus-and without having to resort to threats; but so much could still go wrong.

  The image before him flickered and presented Kaylla Dawn's square-faced visage. She blinked puffy eyes and yawned. "What's wrong, Staffa?"

  "Sorry to get you out of bed. I just wanted to keep in touch. We have a working agreement with the Regans. They're going to cooperate, at least, they will until the situation grows severe enough that someone panics. I'm spacing in Chrysla for Targa and Makarta as soon as possible. Given our current understanding of affairs, it looks like the Mag Comm is the only hope."

  Kaylla's jaw worked as if an unpleasant taste filled her mouth. "That could be problematic - " The lines around her eyes tightened. "I pulled rank on Bruen.

  We've had him under sedation. I drugged him, Used enough Mytol to kill an ordinary man." She shook her head. "People here are stumped. We can't break him. "

  "Have you contacted Andray Sornsen?"

  "You bet, just as soon as Nyklos realized what was happening. Sornsen's intrigued. He's never run into a brain that could compartmentalize like Bruen's can. It's as if he can build walls-program his brain to believe sections of memory don't exist."

  "Mytol relaxes the inhibitions. I don't understand." Kaylla stared thoughtfully at something beyond the pickup. "That's the trouble.

  No one here does either. It's something new, something Sornsen has never dealt with before. Look, I've been agonizing over this. Here's the situation as I see it:'

  "Bruen has either trained himself, or else he has a unique brain physiology, one that allows him to successfully split and unify personalities at will.

  That ability allowed him to double-deal the Mag Comm. We know the machine reads brains -through the helmet interface. You've seen it, seen how Bruen was shaken and weakened after dealing with the

  machine. Staffa, our best interrogation doesn't even make the man sweat.

  He evades us like it was child's play!"

  "But he thinks the machine can orchestrate Free Space?" Kaylla gave him a grim nod. "Absolutely. But this is the frightening part. Bruen is terrified of the machine's motives and abilities. Make no mistake about it, he says that turning the administration of Free Space over to the machine would be the most hideous mistake we could make."

  "But the alternatives-"

  "Be damned! At least, that's Bruen's belief. He says we're better off letting humanity die in peace. "

  "If you can call civil chaos, collapsing social order, starvation, mayhem, and riots peace." Staffa
rtibbed nervous hands over his thighs, realizing his muscles had bunched. "What is your opinion?"

  She puffed out her cheeks and stared wearily into the pickup. "I don't have one. Bruen says it's a choice between quick death and eternal hopeless slavery. Quite honestly, the machine scares the Rotted hell out me. I've been around it, felt its malignant presence. On the other hand, what choice do we have?"

  "Apparently, we deal with it-and risk slavery-or we die." Staffa could see the machine in his mind's eye. It covered one entire wall in a subterranean chamber deep inside Makarta Mountain. And there, before the recliner, sat the golden helmet on its holder. His scalp prickled at the memory, as if the cap were calling out, reaching through time and space to pick at his soul with a thousand little teeth.

  He studied her, voice lowered. "What do you think? Death? Or slavery?"

  Her gaze hardened. "As a slave, I would have preferred death. "

  "Yet you stopped me when, as a slave, I would have killed myself." Staffa cocked his head. "And you could have died at any moment, Kaylla. You could have kicked Anglo in the balls and died immediately, painlessly. The collar is a fast and humane way to die. "

  "The problem with slavery, Staffa, is that it fosters hope. No matter how resigned you become to your fate, the possibility of a miracle lingers like a narcotic in the mind. "

  "And there's your answer. Scramble a transport. I want Bruen headed for Targa as soon as possible. Go through the personnel files. I want you to put together a team of my best techs. That storage room is still down there-and a lot of those materials need to be studied, stabilized, and reproduced for distribution throughout Free Space.

  "You could be dooming us all." "I know. "

  "I'll put Bruen on the CV, but, Staffa, you should know, he's not doing well -

  "

  "I understand." Staffa pulled at his chin. "Do you have anything else to report? Any more news on Ashtan?" "Not yet. Last time I checked the communications desk,

  most laces had adopted a wait and see attitude. I'll be in touch pif anything happens, but, Staffa, all it would take would be a spark."

  "Very well." He paused. "Can you transfer me to an engineer named Dee Wall?"

  Kaylla nodded. "Sure. In the meantime, Staffa, take care of yourself.-