Counter-Measures

  Sinklar caught himself gazing into the soft depths of her eyes, acutely aware that she was as uncertain as he. "How about this? We'll go up to the forward lounge, order something decadent, kick our feet up, and engage in nothing more frightening than small talk about where we grew up, who we played with, and the times we got in trouble. Which will be a short topic for me-and a long one for you."

  :'What makes you think I was in trouble all the time?" 'Professional intuition. And to prove it, I'm checking you for fourteen gauge wire before we go eat."

  That indefatigable smile he was becoming so fond of had returned. "You've got a deal, Sinklar. And you know, it'll be nice to have dinner for once without strings attached.",

  "Sorry. No proposition. We discussed that on Targa." He studied her as they stood, marveling at the difference in her demeanor. "But if I'd known you could look like this, who knows, I might have opted for something I'd regret later. "

  "Sorry, fella. I was on duty then. " She gave him her arm, and Sinklar took an odd pride in escorting her across the room. She was a most striking woman, and he couldn't help but notice whispers and jabbing elbows as they passed.

  "Looks like you're going to get a ribbing on gun deck, STU. "

  She gave him a sidelong glance from those soft dark eyes, a knowing smile on her lips. "Oh, don't worry about them. You see, I have a sort of reputation.

  There isn't a man in this room that hasn't tried to get me to engage in a little close-order, horizontal drill. I've made nearly seven hundred credits off these guys."

  "Prostitution? You?

  She laughed as they stepped into the corridor. "Rot, no, this is a lot easier and you don't have to put up with either the working conditions or the class of customer it draws. But, Sink, before I tell you, you've got to promise me, give me your word that you won't tell. Not anyone. Not even Staffa.'

  "Security concerns excluded?" "Of course. "

  "I promise." He winked to seal the deal, enjoying the feel of her, firm, powerful, and at the same time delightful and feminine. Was this the same STU

  he'd known on Targa?

  "We've got a scuttlebutt file-a kind of on-line newsletter in the comm. I make entries under a pseudonym with a secret code access. The standing wager is now up to fifty credits to the guy who can finally get me in bed. About once every month, someone I've had coffee with, or dinner with, will pop up on the scuttlebutt, and take the wager. They don't sign their names, of course, but I can pretty well figure who it is."

  "What if it turns out to be someone'you like?"

  She sighed, tightening her grip on his arm. "Then I suppose I'll have to agonize over what I like better, him, or the

  fifty credits in his account . . . and the fact that another failure could boost my rate up to sixty credits."

  Sinklar couldn't help himself, he began chuckling and ended up laughing outright. She caught the contagion and he lost himself in the musical quality of her laughter.

  "Well, what if someone claims it? I mean, you know, they show up and say they got you. At 05:00 in the weapons locker. And you don't have any proof to the contrary. No alibi. Your word against his."

  She gave him a smug look, smiling placidly. "No one with sense would do that, Sinklar.

  "Oh? "

  'Of course not. You see, these guys know I still have my fourteen gauge wire."

  CHAPTER 35

  Is this what it feels like to metabolize? The Mag Comm wondered as it refined control of different planetary systems and integrated various functions.

  Diagnostic after diagnostic was run on the human systems, and the machine immediately began exploring, reprogramming, eliminating redundancy, and, most of all, learning.

  As memory and processing was freed up, the Mag Comm's presence flowed throughout the human computer systems the way resin plastic did in a mold. And when the final human comm system had been investigated and integrated, the casting was complete.

  Communicate! "What do you wish?"

  What progress can you report on the human problem? From our position, we have been unable to notice any decline in microwave radiation from human sources.

  Are we to expect such a reduction In disturbance to the Truth In the near future?

  "I believe you can. I have managed to obtain computer control of their civilization. Simultaneous disruption of their comm systems will unleash immediate chaos. The ensuing disaster will effectively remove their ability to repair the damage. Microwave manipulation and transmission will be decreasing immediately thereafter. A sphere of panic will spread at the speed of light.

  "In its wake will come a thunderous silence."

  Rysta Braktov stepped out onto the catwalk and took a breath of the frigid air as Tedor Mathaiison's yacht was reeled into the LC bay aboard Gyton. The yacht had frosted on contact with atmosphere in the bay, and streamers of frozen vapor traced sinuous dances in the glaring white spotlights. The loss of three of Gyton's complement of LCs had created the room; the Engineering First had insisted he could berth the yacht with a few minor alterations to the bay.

  Rysta had supervised the delicate matching maneuver from her command chair on the bridge. EVA teams had snaked cable around the yacht and winches had hauled it in. For the final securing of the vessel, Rysta wanted to be there in person.

  She knew the yacht, of course. As one of Rega's most decorated commanders, she'd been aboard many times at Tedor's request. Thus she watched another tenuous link with the past being molded into something new. Outside of the yacht's lines, not much remained of that polished and plush craft that had ferried parties around conquered worlds and served as a platform of pomp and circumstance for orbital defense inspections and the private business of the Fleet.

  The hull had lost its luster and gleaming finish, and nowdespite the crust of frost-the exhaust ports could be pinpointed by the streaks of soot that smudged the silver-gray hull. Smoke ionized and settled on the sialon, bonded by the difference in charge.

  Rysta strode the length of the craft, watching ice trace patterns on the hull as warm humid air met ceramic and metal nearly two hundred kelvins colder. At the rear of the yacht, Rysta paused. Where the bounce-back coils should have bulged around the reaction nozzle, nothing remained. The stem looked as if a giant's torch had been held to the hull-the smooth lines had deformed and wrinkled in some places and turned globular in others.

  Breath curling crisply about her, Rysta pivoted on her heel and started back the way she'd come as men and women shouted orders, and the hold shivered under the yacht's impact. A hollow boom carried through the huge bay, and machinery began to whine as the cables were drawn tight.

  Rysta stood, rocking back and forth from heels to toes as a ramp was run to Rega One's main hatch. The chill in the air invigorated her. This was what life was all abut. Space.

  Adventure. Serving a purpose in action and endeavor. No matter that Ily had escaped, Rysta's blood was up. For the first time in years, she felt young again.

  The hatch slid back and clanked, mist curling away. Wing Commander Lyma stood in the open port and watched as the ramp was extended fully to match with her lock. She wore her traditional white armor-not quite as spotless as usual-but effective all the same. The girl, Lark, followed, but wore only spacer's whites. Both women looked tired as they crossed the ramp.

  And I can well sympathize. Rysta cracked a wry grin and took the several steps necessary to meet Lyma. Resplendent in her dress uniform with scarlet sash, Rysta gave them a Regan salute, adding, "Welcome aboard, Wing Commander. Qyton offers her hospitality. If I or my crew can make your time with us more pleasant, you need only ask. "

  Lyma inclined her head, the hard blue eyes taking Rysta's measure. Rysta recognized the strain around the corners of Skyla's eyes, the weary set of the firm lips. Even the scar on the woman's cheek appeared paler.

  "My most gracious thanks to Gyton and her illustrious Commander. " Lyma's wary smile didn't reach to her eyes. "I guess I'm glad I didn't blow Gyton out of the sk
y that day over Targa. "

  Rysta sniffed at the cold air. "You know, Wing Commander, I'd almost forgotten about that. Thanks for reminding me." Then she chuckled. "What the Rotted hell, I've seen so many enemies become friends and friends become enemies in the last three years I don't know what's what anymore.

  Lyma glanced back at the yacht. "We'd have had a long wait had you not been revectoring to cover for us. "

  Rysta studied the young woman at Skyla's shoulder. She, too, looked haggard and worn, but the stubborn streak wasn't quite hidden in those green eyes.

  "Good to see you again, Lark. For a first voyage, it appears you've picked a busy one."

  "Yes, Commander. I suppose I have. " Then she grinned. "But I wouldn't have missed it for anything."

  Rysta gave Lyma a thoughtful glance. "You've got a nose for talent. She'll do.

  "

  ' 'Any news on Ily and Arta? " the Wing Commander asked as they started for the LC2 hatch.

  "None. They went null singularity and vanished. We've got the entire net alerted. Every CV in Free Space is getting the going over when it comes in.

  Security is as tight as we can manage given the circumstances we're in. One thing's sure. They didn't hit dirt at Riparious."

  Lyma's cold blue eyes had narrowed, the look deadly. "I didn't figure they would have. But where, Commander? Which world would Ily try for? Where could she go where she could make planet and just disappear? Assuming that's her goal. It's not exactly her style to go to ground."

  Rysta paused, jerking a thumb at the yacht's stem. "Looks like you used everything she had . . . and then some." Lyma paused, considering the melted mass. "I've never

  been one for half measures. I wanted them dead, Commander. "

  Rysta tapped Lark on the shoulder. "Take a close look, girl. Then consider this. It takes one hell of a damned good pilot to shut down a burn that hot and not go spinning off into forever like a Nesian celebration rocket wheel."

  Rysta nodded to Lyma. "Fine job, Wing Commander. You can handle my ship anytime you want."

  Lyma's cold blue gaze had pinned Rysta again. "Praise, Commander? Given our history?"

  "It's a new era, Wing Commander. " She shook her head. I'm not sure I could have handled a meltdown like thateven years ago when I still had the nerves.

  Meanwhile, follow me. Lady Attenasio would like to discuss the situation we now find ourselves in."

  The ice in Lyma's eyes seemed to frost colder than the yacht's hull. "Very well."

  "Do you need quarters? I'll begin the routine displacement of crew to-"

  "No, thank you, Commander. We'd do just as well aboard the yacht. And your crew won't have to reestablish its pecking order down to the last maintenance tech doubling up in a bunk."

  , IAs you wish, Wing Commander. I've given orders to clear you through security. The ship is yours to move about in freely. I think you know the layout of this class of vessel. "

  "Thank you, Commander.' I

  Rysta entered the hatch and led the way through the winding maze of corridors.

  Young Lark's enraptured gaze took in everything, the strakes, the overhead cables and pipes, the emergency lockers and reinforced hatches.

  Rysta ducked through a pressure hatch and stopped three doors down to press the stud on a door comm. "Lady Attenasio? This is Commander Braktov. I have the Wing Commander and her Second. "

  "Come in, Commander."

  At the sound of that contralto, Rysta couldn't be sure, but Lyma might have flinched. Rysta palmed the lock plate on what had been her quarters not so long ago and led the way into Mac's cabin. Chrysla sat at the desk, studying the wall monitors, a frown on her face. She wore Regan standardissue military armor with an off-white cloak to lessen the impact of her physical form.

  Wing Commander Lyma looked like a compressed spring, and she'd unconsciously dropped into a combat crouch, her deadly azure stare fixed on Chrysla.

  "Hello, Skyla," Chrysla greeted, apparently at ease before that pent hostility. "Please, have a seat."

  Lyma took a deep breath. "You know, you make it very difficult for me sometimes. Where is MacRuder?"

  Chrysla straightened. "He's in the hospital ward, his life hanging by a thread. As a result, we're spacing for Itreata as soon as we can revector. Mac needs your medical facilities there. "

  Rysta unconsciously backed up a step, Lyma reminding her of a pale tiger ready to attack.

  "Itreata?" Lyma asked. "You're taking your lover to Itreata? "

  "Staffa has agreed." Chrysla stood, every inch regal as she met Lyma's blue ice with amber fire. "Skyla, I'll do anything necessary to save him. Or has the Companions' ethic changed over the years?"

  " MacRuder isn't a Companion."

  "Isn't he? Staffa offered him a position at Targa. MacRuder is second in command to Sinklar, who is Staffa's son. They've come to an agreement, Skyla.

  Mac is one of ours . . . wounded by Takka and Fera during an act of treachery against us."

  Lyma seemed to relax the slightest bit, and Rysta exhaled as she realized she'd held her breath through the exchange.

  "You're not at all like I imagined you would be." Lyma crossed her arms, taking a fluid step, balanced, poised as if to strike.

  "I'm not who I was, Skyla. That's the difference I suppose. You imagined me based upon an image created by Staffa over the years - "

  The Wing Commander nodded, still not at ease though some of her tension had ebbed. "I take it you expect me to journey to Itreata with you?"

  "We're enroute now."

  Skyla's voice carried the chill of a Sylenian wind. "My business lies elsewhere. "

  "I was considering exactly that business when you arrived. Rega One will need a major refit. In the meantime, Commander Seekore had your yacht shipped to Itreata. " Chrysla raised an eyebrow. "Considering who has been aboard your vessel, I asked Staffa to detail a technical team to completely fumigate and clean it from singularity dome to the bounce-back collars. They're refinishing the sleeping quarters, too. "

  "You take a great many liberties."

  "I do. But you'll have a high-performance vessel waiting for you when you reach Itreata. And it won't be one that makes your skin crawl when you set foot in the lock. "

  Chrysla then pressed a comm stud to project a threedimensional holo of Free Space into the large wall tank across from the desk. The familiar stellar topography was marked by a gleaming of stars. The Ashtan system burned with particular brilliance to mark their location.

  "Here's the escape vector they used." Chrysla pointed to a laser-red line, which, when galactic drift was figured in, would have led straight to Riparious. "To the best of our knowledge, they haven't dropped from null singularity in the Riparious system. Orchid May is on patrol there with Holocaust. If Ily does drop there, Orchid will be more than willing to bring her in."

  "She's not headed for Riparious, " Skyla agreed, walking over to stare into the tank. "Lark and I have been playing this same game. Ily and Arta have dropped way short and are revectoring even as we speak. We've racked our brains

  !rying to decide where they'll go next. From the arc of maximum possibility, we'd expect her to try for anyplace from Terguz to Itreata. If she's in no hurry, and doesn't mind cutting the fuel supply a little close, she could even double back for Ashtan. "

  "All right, let's consider each one in order. It probably won't be Terguz, "

  Chrysla said. "After the trouble they've had, Seekore has the situation there pretty well straightened out. She's put together a working coalition with the unions. Ily wouldn't find a friendly welcome-"

  "What about the Administrator?" Lyma glanced at Lark, who'd perked up at the mention of trouble.

  Chrysla paused, frowning. "You didn't hear?" "Hear what?"

  "The riots. The Administrator's residence was sacked. They took him out and executed him for . . . "

  Lark had gasped, reaching out to lay a hand on Lyma's arm. "What?

  , ,Easy, kid, " Lyma calmed her,
taking her hand. To Chrysla she said, "Give us the details."

  To Chry$la's credit, she seemed to instantly absorb the girl's concern. It took Rysta a moment to recall that Lark came from Terguz.

  Chrysla's entire manner had changed from coolly analytical to honestly sympathetic. She spoke directly to Lark. "We're still not sure about the exact details, but apparently the Administrator was attempting to build a working coalition with the unions after the Wing Commander effectively removed Gyper Rill from the Internal Security Directorate. The Administrator called a meeting in which he assumed the podium and began talking about a new order on Terguz. It didn't go very well. Apparently he created the impression that the unions could only make decisions with his approval. In the end it turned into a shouting match. The people in the streets took offense." Chrysla's voice dropped. "I'm so sorry, Lark."

  Lark's eyes had gone bright. Her throat worked as Skyla placed a reassuring arm around her shoulders, saying, "Kid, I'm sorry. I guess it's my fault."

  "No." Lark struggled for the words., "You gave him . . . the chance, Skyla.

  Told him. Told him how .

  "Yeah, yeah, but I wasn't thinking."

  To Rysta's eyes, Lyma had metamorphosed, almost shading into a maternal mode that seemed entirely out of character.

  Lark sniffed, battling an emotional outburst. "He was an arrogant bastard, Skyla, but he was .

  :'I know. He was still your father.

  'And my mother and brother?" Lark bravely met Chrysla's gaze, but her lips trembled.

  " Mobs don't always think about innocence or guilt, Lark. if you'd been there, you would have died with them. The important thing now is to make sure it doesn't happen again. Don't you think?"

  Lyma glanced up. "Maybe we ought to delay this for a- "

  "No!" Lark stiffened, jaws clamped. "It's my problem.

  I'll deal with it on my own time, Wing Commander." She looked at Chrysla, adding, "Lady Attenasio, I believe you were talking about eliminating possibilities of where Minister Takka might be - "

  Chrysla studied the girl thoughtfully and nodded respectfully. "Terguz no longer offers Ily a safe haven. In fact, if you begin looking at the changing reality of Free Space, her possibilities are shrinking by the hour. The Mag Comm is in the process of networking the administration of both of the Empires. Any notice of the CV will be instantly flagged. "