Sinklar squeezed the angry memory of Arta Fera from his mind, head reeling.
Anatolia's going to leave. If you want her to stay, you'd Rotted well better do something about it.
Yet here he stood, seeing Arta, remembering Gretta's death. Is that what he wanted? Anatolia is leaving! She's stuck with you when others would have cut your throat! This is your last opportunity-you'd better do something!
"Perhaps that would be a good idea." He stepped warily past Chrysla, experiencing a feeling of relief as he gained some distance. Damn it, she even smelled like Arta. But she's your mother, Sink!
"What a pus-stinking mess."
He stopped, shooting a quick glance back to see Chrysla retreating down the hallway, head down, a slump to her shoulders as if she'd been dealt a blow. Sinklar's gut crawled.
He turned to the door comm. "Anatolia? Could I speak to you? Hey, let me in. "
"Why?" She sounded hostile.
"Look, I need to . . . to explain some things." A long pause.
"All right! Just be quick about it."
The hatch slid back to admit him. Anatolia's quarters were identical to his.
The only difference was a huge wall display of DNA codes for amino acids projected in holographic perfection. Anatolia had already begun filling her small duffel bag with the few clothes she owned. She watched him coolly as he seated himself next to the bag and looked up.
"You're right about Gretta Artina. I loved her totally. She was my right hand throughout the Targan rebellion. Arta Fera killed her. When I stepped out in the corridor and saw Chrysla, my brain locked. I have a lot of guilt left over from Gretta's murder. I was starting to deal with that when Ily Takka . . .
well, did what she did."
"Seduced is a pretty good word, don't you think?" "Yeah, seduced." He braced his head on his hands. "But she had a curiously willing partner if you really want to call it a seduction."
Anatolia waited patiently as Sinklar mustered his thoughts and continued.
"Listen. I've taken two whacks at love. Each ended in disaster." He glanced up. "That's what you're waiting for, isn't it? To hear me say I love you?"
She wadded up the jumpsuit she held and tossed it from hand to hand. "You know, you're a study, Sinklar. Just what do I do with you? I have to figure that out now, because if I don't I'm going to get into real trouble. I've come to love you, and it scares me to death."
"Thought you were trying to decide if I'm human." "That, too. Mostly, I've come to believe in you, in your dream. I just don't know if you believe in it anymore. Do you? Do you believe in yourself these days?"
Do you, Sink? Is that your problem? Lost your nerve? And the alter ego of his subconscious asked: What if you have? How many more bodies need to be piled at your feet
before You realize you're a failure? Do you want that burden?
She turned troubled eyes on him. "Remember when we were prisoners, when Ily drugged me? I told you the truththat you have the makings of both greatness and terrible tragedy about you. At times you can be as comforting as an experiment in quantum uncertainty."
"Yeah, I suppose."
"What do you want, Sinklar? Make your decision right now. Be honest."
Sinklar took a deep breath, heart pounding. "Out there, in the hallway, I panicked at the thought of you leaving. I don't know what's happened to me.
When I look back, things were going so well on Targa. Then, at Makarta, things started to go sour. Give me a war, Anatolia, and I'll win it. But if it isn't killing, I can't seem to get it right." He swallowed hard. "I'm scared. Can you live with that?"
For the first time, her cool stare warmed. "Are you being honest with yourself again?"
li "After losing an empire, betraying my friends, acting ke a fool with Ily .
. . Rotted Hell, I don't know." He glanced up miserably. "I feel terribly tired, Ana."
She watched him stoically.
"I . I'm not giving up. I'll tell Staffa I'll go with him to Makarta. Face the ghosts there. " His hands made a rasping sound as he rubbed them back and forth. "It won't be easy. And you know about me and Ily. Can you live with that? "
A faint smile turned the corners of her lips into an impish grin. "You did the best you could, Sink. I don't blame you. You met someone out of your league.
Just don't let it happen again. "
Sinklar groaned and flopped backward on the bedding. "That's one of the things scaring me right now. How many more of those hidden weaknesses do I have?" He shook his head. "Blessed Gods, what a pompous idiot I was! I thought I could go out and conquer the whole of Free Space, usher in a new age of enlightenment, and make things better for everyone
"It's a wonderful dream, Sinklar. " She settled next to him on the sleeping platform.
"I hate to remind you, but we live at the Star Butcher's whim. "
"I thought he was pretty eloquent in the meeting. Honestly, Sinklar, he did ask for cooperation."
"And what if it's a ploy? Some trick? Hey, remember me? I can fight an army but when it comes to political intrigue, I . . . "
"Think, Sink." She reached up to run her fingers through his hair. "Take nothing for granted, but seize your opportunities. He's your father. Wait, let me finish. You've heard the rumors. That's why he went to Targa, to find you.
Give him a chance but keep your eyes open.
He grunted, frowning.
"Sinklar, what choice do you have? You've got to do two things. Learn from your mistakes with Ily and believe in yourself. Meet Staffa halfway until he disproves himself. Or do you think you have another option?"
Sinklar took a deep breath and sighed. "Nope. " He rolled onto his side, facing her, taking her hands in his. "Thanks. " She gave him a wistful smile before turning away and stuffing another garment into the bag.
"What are you doing?" Sinklar asked. "Packing. "
He twisted forward, grabbing her wrist. "I want you to stay with me. I . . . I meant it when I said I needed you." Faint frown lines etched her brow. "How do I know? I
can share you with a ghost, Sink, that's not the problem. Are you the same Sinklar that kept Mac alive? The one who believed in the dream?"
He rose to his feet, placing both hands on her shoulders, feeling her tremble while he searched her eyes. "Remember that dinner in Tybalt's palace? Two scared hungry people, with only each other to confide in. You gave me a point of' reference when I was lost. The latest mistake I've made is forgetting those cold terrible days when Ily was winning."
Her skin was warm against his as he pulled her close. He could feel her heart begin to pound. "Win, lose, or die, I'm not giving up. Stay with me."
"You're sure? "
"More sure than I've ever been. Will you stay?"
"I guess it's now or never, isn't it?" She pushed back, searching his face as if trying to judge his soul. She closed
her eyes for a moment, hesitated, then bent forward. Her lips closed on his, softly at first, then with increasing passion.
Sinklar's blood began to pound as she ran her hands down the sides of his face. She opened her eyes, gazing into his as he unzipped the fasteners of her spacer's whites. She stood before him, golden hair tumbling down to her full breasts, smiling at the wonder in his eyes. He had to help her with the clips that held his armor. Her hot skin sent shivers through him as she melted against him and he pulled her close.
"I love you, Sink," she murmured. "But you've worried me. "
"I'm sorry. " He pulled her down onto the sleeping platform. "I promise ...
I'll make up for it.
"Staffa?" Tasha's voice penetrated Staffa's uneasy sleep. He sat up, anticipating Skyla's- movement-but the bedding beside him lay empty.
"What is it?" He rubbed his gritty eyes.
He lay on his opulently furnished sleeping platform with its sophisticated gravity control. Beyond, his bedroom brightened as the lighting controls reacted to the sound of his voice. Light glinted off the jeweled artifacts, pillage from looted wor
lds. One full wall of comm equipment depicted Chrysla's operational status. The doorway to the toilet and lavatory gaped half open, one of Skyla's glossy white suits hanging limply on the hook.
"Ashtan," Tasha told him firmly. "I'm afraid something is terribly wrong there. Not only that, but Kaylla's agents report that administrators all over the Regan Empire have been vanishing. In the process, it appears they've begun to sabotage the planetary computer systems."
Staffa groaned. "I'll be right there." Shooting a glance at the chronometer, he realized he'd only managed three hours of sleep. "If this is as serious as it could be, we may have to scramble a ship to deal with the situation."
"Affirmative. "
"See you in the main conference room."
Staffa growled to himself, reaching for his armor.
The beeping of the comm brought Sinklar awake. He blinked owlishly as Anatolia stirred, pulled her hair -back, and called, "Who is it? "
"This is the Lord Commander, Professor Daviura. I need to speak to Sinklar. Is he there?"
Sink stiffened at the sound of that imperious voice. Reluctantly, he called out, "I'm here."
"I apologize if I'm bothering you. I just thought you should know. Something's happening at Ashtan. Evidently the Director of Internal Security there has fled the planet, but in the process, he's erased the data banks which handle administration. My thought is to dispatch MacRuder and Gyton immediately. If they arrive before too much damage is done, they can probably maintain order and safety for the people. Do you concur?"
Sinklar pursed his lips and rolled off the sleeping platform, settling before the comm and snapping on the visual. Staffa's worried expression seemed to have tightened since their last meeting. The haggard look had deepened.
Sinklar glanced at Anatolia. Give Staffa a chance? Commit himself to this new future? Sinklar ran a hand through his ruffled hair as he tried to think.
"Knowing Ily, she'd have a contingency plan for everything. Some way to cut her losses and throw as many obstacles as possible into the path of her pursuers. " Send Mac? Remove yet another pillar of loyal support from Sinklar's side? "I concur with your decision, Lord Commander. Mac will give you everything he's got, and Gyton is a good ship."
Sinklar paused. "I can contact him, if you'd like." "Thank you for your kind offer. Your assessment of Minister Takka is in agreement with my own. I would also like you to know that I'm dispatching a team to Rega to augment the security we've placed in the Ministry building. The sooner we break into Ily's files, the sooner we can remove her accomplices. Do you have anyone with computer expertise who might augment that process?"
"Shiksta is the best I've got."
Staffa considered, frowning, then shook his head. "I'd rather keep him in reserve. He's a capable man, and if Ashtan is only the surface of the problem, we might need to
dispatch people throughout the Empire. Run an organic administration, if necessary."
"I can go," Anatolia called from behind Sinklar. "I may not be good at cryptography,
but I know the comm system, and, as a geneticist, I know code patterns. "
Sinklar shifted uneasily. "Could I put your line on hold for a moment, Lord Commander?"
"As you wish."
Sinklar snapped the receiver off, turning. "You want to go back into that accursed building?"
Ana had wrapped a robe around herself and settled next to him on the chair arm. " Chrysla isn't spacing for Targa for a couple of days. You don't have anyone else to spare. No, I'm not anxious to go back there, but you need someone to look after your interests. Who better than me?"
He ran a finger down her thigh. "I want more time with you. "
"We'll have plenty of time once we space for Targa. This is only a couple of days. Who else have you got to send?" She lifted a pale eyebrow.
"Mhitshul, for one. He pestered me often enough with his mothering ways. No one could slip one by-" "Mhitshul checks out on comm but what does he know about programming? Patterning theory or code sequences? I might even be able to run some genetics mapping programs that might give us an edge."
"I don't know. I've got a funny feeling .
"Sinklar," she said seriously, "I don't want to be your concubine. Maybe once, before I lived in the streets, I might have been able to, but not after what I went through. I have to function as a full partner, not just bed fluff and friendly confidante. "
"Maybe I wasn't ardent enough in bed?" he tried lamely. "Silly! " she smacked him on the side of the head, then leaned down and kissed him hard. "I never knew sex could be like that. Ily teach you to do things like that to a woman9"
"What if I said yes?
She paused thoughtfully. "Well, I guess you have to make the best of any bad situation. Now, call the Lord Commander and tell him I'll catch the shuttle."
Sinklar hesitated, his hand on the control. "Something about this . . . "
"Either you trust me, or you don't."
Sinklar opened the channel and stared into Staffa's hard gray eyes. "Anatolia will be ready. How soon is the shuttle leaving? "
"Professor Daviura needs to be in Bay Seventeen in four hours. Planetary departure is in exactly four hours and sixteen minutes. My people will brief her on the way down." "Very well. Thank you for informing us."
After a courteous nod, Staffa's image vanished. Sinklar was still unsettled by the premonition in his gut.
"Four hours?" Anatolia wondered. "What could we do for four hours?"
"Hmm? What could we do? Worry, I suppose. I--
She grabbed him, pulling him out of the chair. "Four hours," she whispered as she nibbled on his ear and slipped out of her robe. "It's got to last us both for two days. Let's see what you've got left!
A muted whimper swirled through the darkness of Skyla Lyma's soul until it rose, breaking hauntingly from her lips. Dreams lingered from her shredding sleep, terrifying dreams of an amber-eyed woman staring down, dominating her, feeding on Skyla's flesh with the relish of a perverted vampire.
I want to die. Blessed Gods, let me die.
From somewhere beyond the misery, a gentle voice insisted, "No, Skyla. "
Staffa, Ifailed you. Kill me. Please, Staffa, if you love me, kill me so I can forget.
"Live, Skyla. "
That voice, that terrible contralto voice, commanded. Skyla tried to shrink in on herself, to curl away into the blackness and misery that rotted in the recesses of her being.
"Do you know me?" the voice prodded. ,'Yes. "
"Who am I?"
"Arta ... Arta Fera." Skyla shivered, the reaction in-yoluntary. "Don't hurt me, Arta . . . I'll be good. I promise . . . promise .
. . "
"Skyla, listen to me. Listen very carefully. Where are we? "
Her swallow choked in a dry throat and her guts knotted. "On my yacht."
"And what is your condition?" "I'm your prisoner, Arta." "Can you be wrong?"
"I . . . no . . . 1, yes, Arta. I can be wrong if you say SO. "
A long pause. Then: "Skyla, pay attention. If I am Arta Fera, then you must be on your yacht. If you are on your yacht, you are a prisoner, correct?"
"That's right."
"Repeat what I just said."
Skyla hugged herself, as if to find reassurance, but only emptiness lurked within, emptiness and futility. Nothing left, Skyla. Nothing left but death.
" Skyla?" the terrible voice intruded. "Repeat what I just said. "
Fear grasped at Skyla's vocal cords; racking sobs stole her breath. "If . . .
if you are Arta Fera then I must be on my yacht, and if I'm on . . . on my yacht, I must be a . . .
a . . . "Prisoner. Her spasming lungs choked her and the wailing of her soul drained away into a pitiful weeping.
" Skyla? Do you understand what that means?" "Don't-don't hurt me, Arta.
Please? I did what you wanted. I made love with you. Don't take me to Ily. Not dressed like a . . . a whore. I did what you asked! Don't shame me!"
"Skyla,"
the firm voice ordered, "Concentrate. If you wake up on your yacht, then I am Arta Fera and you are a prisoner. Isn't that correct?"
"Yes." She cowered, seeking to retreat back into the blackness, into the painful peace of nonexistence. Fear laced her guts and tightened frosty fingers into her heart. Don't . . . don't make me wake up! Don't-
" Skyla, wake up now. Wake up and open your eyes. " Wrenching sobs rose from below her diaphragm and
trickling wetness traced down her cheeks. Her eyes had begun to burn, swollen and fevered.
"Wake up, Skyla."
Skyla blinked at a white world turned blurry by tears. She sniffed, trying to clear her plugged nose, and reached up to wipe at her swimming vision. When she pulled her hand away, Arta stared down at her, a hard concern in her, amber eyes.
"Hello, Skyla.
"Hello, Arta." Miserable defeat crushed her.
Arta Fera wore an unfamiliar, baggy, beige dress and her hair had been cut shorter. A wary caution lurked behind the Seddi assassin's guarded expression as she ordered, "Skyla, look around you."
Skyla glanced to the side, seeing familiar med units. She frowned in confusion. Rotted Gods! Impossible! "It looks like . . . like the hospital on Chrysla. Pus eat you, Arta, what kind of game is this?"
A faint ghost of a smile came to those full lips. "No game, Skyla. You are aboard Chrysla, safe and sound." Skyla shook her head. "No. You can't fool me.
Staffa
would have shot you on sight. This is a trick."
"I'm not Arta Fera, and, as I told you in hypnosis, you're no longer a prisoner.," The woman clasped her hands and leaned back to give Skyla a thoughtful appraisal. "Arta Fera and Ily Takka did a great deal of damage to you, Skyla. But you're a remarkably intelligent and resourceful woman. I took a gamble in bringing you back this way, but I believe in the long run, it'll pay off. "
"What are you talking about?"
"Learning. Conditioning. You've developed a set of negative neural pathways because of a traumatic ordeal. I've attempted to create a double bind-conflicting information, if you will. It's a first therapeutic step to heal the wounds Arta and Ily inflicted. "
"Who are you?" Skyla pushed up on her arms, backing away. Yes, she knew this room. She'd been brought here more than once. In this very med unit, she'd come to once before, but that time Staffa had been holding her hand.