Counter-Measures

  Now he would pay for those faults.

  As if to torment him, his mind replayed the memories of that fatal moment when he'd stared at the elegant bed he'd shared with Ily-the same bed she'd shared with Tybalt the Imperial Seventh before she'd assassinated him. Sinklar had turned to find that Ily Takka and her guards had taken up a position behind him.

  ". . . I don't need you anymore, " she'd said. The light had reflected lustrously in her gleaming black hair as she stepped close, running a caressing hand down his cheek even as she plucked his blaster from his belt.

  "You really have no choice. Your time's up here, Sinklar. "

  She'd stepped back, lithe, alluring in the black outfit that she favored. The night she'd first seduced him, she'd stood on that same spot as she stripped and stood proudly before him.

  Sinklar closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. At that moment, he'd sealed his fate and that of an empire. With each ecstasy of orgasm, she'd blinded his soul, playing Sinklar like a master while the tendrils of her web closed around him.

  And I knew better. Sinklar ground his teeth, trying to nerve himself to proceed down the corridor, a prickling awareness of the monitors goading him.

  Bile rose in his throat as he forced himself forward.

  " You can walk . . . or be carried, " she'd said. Sinklar had walked. At the same instant, Ily's minions had been quietly arresting Sinklar's loyal officers. Only Shiksta, Mac, and, surprisingly, Dion Axel had remained free.

  Ifailed them. The thought filled Sink's head, swelling the sick sensation in his gut.

  "Why?" he wondered, as he walked forward. "Think, damn you. How did she do it to you? Just hormones? Just inexperience with women?"

  Anatolia's words came back to him. And she made it seem like you were the man of her dreams? That you'd finally arrived, someone she could share the future with? Did she hang attentively on each word? Adopt that breathless, adoring pose?"

  Ily had done exactly that . . . and Sinklar had been alone, still lost in grief over his dead love, Gretta Artina.

  Sinklar took a deep breath and exhaled, seeking to drive the ill feeling from his gut. Nice work, Sinklar. A stunning genius in war, and a bumbling idiot in life.

  He could see the two armed Special Tactics Officers standing guard at the doorway. Here, he'd finally pay the price for his faults. Here, aboard the flagship of the Companions, he would surrender his Empire and his dreams. In that room he would seal the final betrayal of his people. His steps began to lag.

  "Sink?" MacRuder's voice came from behind him. Sinklar turned as Ben MacRuder, his lieutenant, came down the corridor. As he approached, Sinklar could see the tension in his friend's blue eyes. MacRuder looked every inch a soldier in his Division First's armor. The snowy white of the suit set off the blond hair that glinted beneath the overhead lights. The muscles knotted at square corners of Mac's jaw.

  "Hello, Mac. Looks like you're late."

  "So are you . . . and in no hurry to get there from the way you were walking."

  Sinklar lowered his gaze, lips pursed. "I guess it's all gone. Remember those bold words, that promise I gave you that day in the lounge aboard Gyton? We were going to conquer the empires, remake space into a better place. We were going to set things straight for the little guy. " He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mac. I failed you. You warned me that day outside of Makarta Mountain."

  Mac placed an arm over Sinklar's shoulder as they continued toward the hatch.

  "Forget it. We all make mistakes when it comes to women. You were hurting, Sink. Dying with Gretta every time you closed your eyes. I don't know what Ily did, or said, but you were ripe for someone, anyone, to come and mask the pain."

  "I knew, Mac. That's the part that I can't forgive. Inside my head, that little voice told me she was a reptile." "Yeah, well, there's heads and there's hearts."

  At the tone in Mac's voice, Sinklar shot a sideways glance at his friend. "Is that why you're late? Because she's going to be there?"

  "Yeah. "

  "Mac, I don't think you're-"

  "She's Staffa's wife, Sink. She's your mother! And I . . . I "

  "You're running."

  Mac jerked a quick nod. "Rotted right, I'm running. Head and heart, remember?

  My heart says stick it out. My head says get the hell out of here, because I'm going to get myself real hurt before it's over. "'

  "Yeah. " Sinklar squinted at the doorway as they came even with it. "Maybe you're right. I'm sure as hell the last person you should ask about women.

  And, Mac, she's not my mother."

  "She bore you, didn't she?"

  "So they say. But there's more to being a mother than genetics. "'

  Mac chewed at his lip for a moment. "Sink? I don't know how any of this is going to turn out, but if you can, give her a chance.

  Hearing the pleading in Mac's tone, Sinklar relented. "All right. "

  "And what about Anatolia?" Mac prodded.

  Sinklar shook his head and threw up his arms. "How should I know? I don't know what's going to happen after this meeting. By the Blessed Gods, Mac. I've got to go in there and surrender, give up everything. For all I know, I'll either be a prisoner ... or dead within a couple of hours. "

  "He won't do either of those things. " Mac lowered his voice. "Unless you push him into it. Hear him out. Maybe he's not the sort of man you think he is."

  "Right. Just like he proved on Myklene? Give him a' chance? Like he gave Rega?

  Or Maika before that?"

  Mac's gaze narrowed. "How about giving him a chance like he gave me at Makarta? "

  And at that, Mac broke away and, nodding to the guards, entered the room.

  Sinklar straightened his back and followed. At first glance, the conference room appeared to be huge. Only on closer inspection did one realize the holographic effect generated the illusion. A long table dominated the center and most of the seats had been taken. One side seated Regan officers and civilians, the other members of the Companions. Two STOs stood in mirror-bright armor on either side of an empty chair in the middle of the Companions side. No doubt existed as to who would occupy that place. Sinklar nodded to the people present and took a seat opposite the empty chair. The wall behind him depicted a threedimensional map of Free Space. On the other side, tables, graphics, and columns of numbers stood out in ghostly fluorescence.

  Sinklar steeled himself, nodding to those around him. Mac took the seat beside him, pointedly ignoring the strikingly beautiful woman several places to the left and across from him. For Sinklar, the effect was equally unsettling. The very sight of her pricked the memories of that day on Targa when he'd stared through blaster sights into identical amber eyes. Now that self same gaze centered on him, eating at his forced composure.

  In defense, Sink nodded to Rysta Braktov, Commander in charge of the Gyton.

  Across from her sat STO Ryman Ark, of the Companions. He studied Sinklar with eyes as merciless as molten obsidian. Next to Ark sat a huge bear of a black-skinned man in Companion battle dress. Though he was scarred and armed, obviously a veteran, he still managed to convey an air of gentleness as he studied Sinklar.

  Kap, Ayms, Shiksta, and Dion Axel, Sinklar's Division Firsts, sat on the other side of Mac, each nodding grimly in his direction before returning their wary gazes to the opposite side of the table. Sink didn't recognize the woman at the far end of his side of the table, but she sat beside Anatolia.

  Sinklar attempted to relax, to portray himself as a confident man in control of his faculties instead of the desperate wretch he felt like. He glanced at Anatolia and smiled. From the anxiety in her blue eyes, she didn't buy any of it.

  Rot you, Sinklar, iffor no one else, buck up for her. She'd already paid too dear a price for her association with him. She'd been a simple student of behavioral genetics until he'd fouled up her life. Sinklar straightened and placed his hands on the table.

  "Got a trick up your sleeve to get us out of this, Fist?" Rysta whispered from beside him.
/>
  "You bet," Sinklar responded sharply. "As soon as you blow a hole in this ship's defenses, my Divisions can clean up the rest."

  Rysta gave him a rusty chuckle. "Never thought I'd live long enough to see this day."

  "Me either," Sink confided.

  Mac had been whispering with Shiksta and now he leaned close. "I've got the latest report on Mayz. Ily laced her with a pretty heavy dose of drugs. I guess it will be a while before she's back to normal. "

  "Rotted Gods take Ily Takka. Not only for what she's done to Mayz, but for everyone she's destroyed."

  "We know where the blame lies." Rysta tilted her head toward the STO across from her. "I was talking to Ark, here. It seems that the Lord Commander tried more than once to contact you. Each time Regan Comm said you wouldn't discuss the situation."

  Sinklar shot a glance at the grim STO. "Is that true?" Ryman's scarred cheek twitched. "It is, Lord Fist. The Lord Commander was told that you refused to talk to him until Wing Commander Lyma was in your custody. Only then would you negotiate."

  "I never got any such message. Ily had someone in Comm Central. An agent of her own. I give you my word. I had no knowledge of Skyla Lyma's abduction."

  'It wouldn't be the first lie Ily laid at someone else's doorstep," Rysta barked.

  Ark's hard gaze cut like splintered glass. "I believe you," a soft voice called.

  A chill settled on Sinklar's heart as he turned. The Lord Commander, Staffa kar Therma, stood silhouetted in the open hatch.

  Curses were routinely uttered in Staffa's name-and not just by the common people. Now Staffa stood with hands on hips, balanced and powerful. The charcoal cloak billowed behind him, a thing alive.

  " Thank you, Lord Commander. " Sinklar inclined his head slightly. How he hated to mouth those words. "I hope you will be as understanding during the rest of our negotiations. " If that's what you can call an unconditional surrender.

  , ,Ladies, gentlemen, shall we proceed? " Staffa seemed to glide around the table to stand before his chair.

  Sinklar studied the Lord Commander. Something about his expression tickled Sinklar's sense of unease. What was it? The preoccupied expression? No, the man looked haggard. Why?

  Staffa placed both hands on the table; his cold gaze shifted from face to face and finally fastened on Sinklar. "Ladies and gentlemen, as of today, Free Space is unified. This meeting is to discuss that event and, hopefully, to develop a functional methodology for governing Regan space.

  Nervous glances shot back and forth.

  Sinklar ground his teeth, then said, "Most of us came here today unsure of what to expect. As for my personal future, I don't much care what you do with me-but I am concerned about my people. Place me in a collar if you'd like, or simply try me and execute me-I believe that is your preferred method for dealing with deposed enemies. Lord Commander, I only ask that you don't take it out on the innocent. "

  As Sink spoke, Mac and Anatolia grew tense. Cold reality had been laid on the table.

  "Succinctly put," Staffa answered. "But that day is past, Sinklar. " He steepled his fingers, and those frigid gray eyes that had looked dispassionately over the wreckage of so many worlds took another inventory of the table. A faint smile graced his hard lips.

  Staffa spoke, his tone mild. "Ladies, gentlemen, the unification of Free Space has been a long and arduous process-one in which I take little pride. The wars are over, people. I called you here to discuss the future."

  Sinklar glanced uneasily at Mac and then at Anatolia. His Division Firsts shifted nervously.

  Staffa plucked a data cube from the scuffed pouch at his belt. As he talked, he began tossing the cube up, as if in nervous reaction. "First, let me allay your worries and fears. I am not talking to you as a conqueror to the vanquished. That era is over, as well. Nor do I wish to cast blame or place responsibility for past actions on any given individual. "

  "Ily deserves a share," Mac muttered.

  Staffa smiled grimly. "Let me correct that. I hold no one in this room responsible. We've all made mistakes. As of today, none of us can afford another mistake. The stakes have gone too high."

  "The strike against Imperial Sassa?" Commander Braktov guessed.

  "You decapitated their entire empire, Rysta. " Staffa said evenly. "People are starving in the streets. We've got to feed them."

  MacRuder bowed his blond head, expression strained. Staffa continued. "What Sinklar didn't understand was just how tenuous the Sassan situation really was. In a desperate move to buy time for his reorganization, Sinklar dispatched MacRuder and Braktov to strike a preemptive blow against the Sassan Empire. When Mac and Rysta planned their suicidal attack on Imperial Sassa, they couldn't have foreseen the chain of events they'd unleash."

  "It was war," Rysta growled. "Them or us. "Now, it's all of us," Staffa countered. "What do you want from us?" Sinklar asked.

  Staffa snatched the cube out of the air, wheeling to inspect the people at the table. "When I attacked Rega, I effectively crushed your ability to administer your empire. Your Comm Central is destroyed, as are most of your administrative centers. In essence, you have an Imperial Body without a brain. Some of your people could still elect to fight, and, properly coordinated, you could create an underground resistance force which would triumph in the end. The power of the people. The final result, however, would be the same no matter who won: Extinction."

  " I don't follow this," Dion Axel said cautiously. "Extinction? We can always rebuild the buildings you've destroyed, replace the computers. "

  " Yes, you might. Assuming I'd sell you the computers. Remember, they were made in my labs on Itreata. But, Dion, you can't rewrite the software in time.

  My plan was to shift the administration of Regan space to the Sassan central computer system. "

  "Impossible!" Rysta hissed. "Put us under their thumb? You'd have your revolt all right, Lord Commander!"

  " I want no revolt, Rysta. " Staffa lifted the data cube, light glinting off its polished surface as he studied it. "But you must understand that the Sassans had a better redistribution system. Their Legate, Myles Roma, is something of a genius when it comes to managing Imperial economics, services, and redistribution.

  ' 'Earlier I referred to a chain of events begun by your attack on Imperial Sassa. When you drove the freighter Markelos into the Sassan military base at Mikay, you disrupted the planetary isotonal crustal tectonics. At the same time I initiated the attack against Rega, an earthquake destroyed most of the Sassan Capitol-including their computer center. "

  Staffa hovered over them like a desperate bird of prey. "Here's the situation.

  We have two empires on the verge of collapse. Each is mortally wounded, Rega by administrative paralysis, and Sassa by overextension. Within weeks, the redistribution system is going to start unraveling. The service networks will begin to break down. I don't have the capability in Itreata to administer the whole of Free Space. We might be able to produce the hardware in time, but not the software which is so vital."

  "You know this for a fact?" Rysta asked distrustfully.

  Staffa rocked the data cube between thumb and forefinger. "Right here in my hand. Ark will give each of you a copy when you leave. " He hesitated.

  "You see, I didn't call you up here to dictate terms of surrender. I asked you here to help me, to help those innocent people Sinklar mentioned earlier. I need your support and cooperation. All of humanity does. As we speak, people are dying by the millions on Imperial Sassa. What, you might say, do I, a Regan, care about spineless Sassans? Well, people, within two weeks you will begin to starve on Rega. Disintegration feeds upon itself. By the end of the year, our extinction will only be a matter of time."

  "Extinction?" Anatolia spoke softly, daunted by the situation she now found herself in. "Are you sure you're using the proper term, Lord Commander?"

  Staffa replied, "Quite sure, Professor Daviura. I refer to the eventual death of our species. The data are available for your inspection and analys
is. Given the severity of our situation, I have nothing to hide."

  "There's got to be something we can do," Axel insisted. Staffa took a deep breath. "We may have that chance. There is another computer. It belongs to the Seddi. "

  "Rotted Gods!" Shiksta pushed back on powerful arms, disdain on his dark face.

  "I'd rather deal with a Cytean cobra! "

  "In the end, Division First," Staffa responded woodenly, you may achieve a similar result, for a Cytean cobra is one of the deadliest of all animals. How would you prefer to die, First Shiskta? From a swift bite . . . or slow starvation? Myself, I'd rather explore any other option if it gave us a chance."

  Shik ran uneasy fingers along his strong jaw, eyes narrowed. "A chance? As much as they gave us on Targa?" "Old wounds need to be healed," Mac stated.

  "The Seddi killed a lot of very good people."

  "Making this work won't be easy," Rysta growled, rubbing her wrinkled hand over the table.

  Shiksta said nothing, a hard glint in his black eyes. "The time for blame is over," Staffa insisted firmly. "On that one point, I must insist." Staffa's gaze, like frosted steel, searched them one by one. "Can any of you here tell me that you haven't made mistakes? Errors in judgment?

  We've been at war-I for longer than any of you. The future of our species depends on our cooperation now. We can't afford old mistrusts, old hatreds. If any of you bow to them, you'll kill us all. " He paused before emphasizing,

  "Do you understand? "

  A long silence.

  "I understand," Chrysla told them. "I've watched the holes taken by Gyton as she escaped Imperial Sassa. I barely survived on Myklene. We can't fight over corpses."

  Sinklar's gut twisted as he stared into Staffa's eyes. "My distrust is of your final motives, Lord Commander. You say that we must work together. My concern is, to what end? Yours? The same end you provided for Myklene? For Maika? For Targa twenty years ago?"

  Staffa gave him a measured look and nodded. "A fair question, given my past behavior. I, too, have made my mistakes, Lord Fist. To save humanity, we must each gamble. You, Sinklar, must gamble on my word-which, I will have you know, I only broke once. And when I did, I paid a planet's ransom to His Holiness."