Counter-Measures

  "Under Staffa and Sinklar. "That's right."

  "Working in an office on Rega.

  "You couldn't very well do the job in space, especially not from null singularity."

  Rysta's withering scowl reflected her distaste. "If they don't promote me, who would they put in charge?"

  "Dion Axel. Sinklar claims she has the sort of analytical mind to balance all aspects of the equation. "

  "Axel." Rysta snorted as she got to her feet and began to pace. "She's a sharp one all right. Not particularly well born, mind you, but smart." She stopped short, staring at Mac. "Wait a minute. You seem to think I'm going to turn it down to go chasing across space with you. Why?"

  Mac swiveled the chair to face her. "Because, Commander, I think your passion is at stake here. To be honest, I used up a lot of collateral talking Sinklar into this. He wasn't interested in having you space out when he desperately needs qualified people. "

  She pulled at the flaccid skin under her chin. "Yet he'll let you, his most trusted friend and subordinate, chase across space after a pair of phantom particles. Why?"

  "I wouldn't exactly call Ily and Arta 'phantom particles. ' " Mac lowered his gaze. "He let me go because it's important that someone run Ily down. Stop her, once and for all. And . . . and because I asked him. That's why."

  "Because you can't stand the thought of being around Chrysla. That's really it, isn't it, Mac?" Rysta shook her head. "Young fool. Yes, I can read the misery in your eyes, but then, I guess somewhere along the line, you learned to read an old hag like me pretty good, too." A pause. "They got any idea where Ily might have spaced for?"

  "No. Two of Staffa's ships, Slap and Jinx Mistress, plotted her vector out to jump. The course would have brought them out light-years from anything-or run them into the Forbidden Borders. "

  "Don't bet on it. No, they dropped out somewhere along that line. After that, they would have shed Delta V, changed vector, built, and jumped again. The Rotted Gods alone know where they'll end up. Let's pull up a map, give this come thought. " Rysta stepped over to the dispenser, drawing a cup of stassa.

  "I always thought Ily Takka was a pussucking viper."

  "Yeah, well, she's our target as soon as we deal with Ashtan." Mac rubbed at the stubble on his chin. "Ily can't hide that yacht forever."

  CHAPTER 6

  How did I ever come to this? The question continues to plague me. When I think back to those innocent and ignorant days of my youth, so long, long ago, 'who would have thought I would have been the one to inherit the position of Supreme Magister of the Seddi? In our youth, we all dream of greatness, but so few of us ever attain the mantle of power and responsibility.

  Perhaps that is for the best. The burden is ruinous. I have done my best . . .

  and it wasn't enough. I've watched the fortunes of the Seddi grow, swell with power, and finally fall. The quanta blessed my dear old friend, Magister Hyde.

  He died before the fall. For me, life has become tyranny, leaving me to stew in defeat and despair.

  And to what can I lay the blame? To the accursed Mag Comm.

  I will do anything I can to destroy it. Upon the name of God, I swear it.

  -Fragment found among partially erased records on Magister Bruen's personal comm

  Ily reached for a drinking bulb and drew a cup of stassa from the dispenser in the compact galley in Skyla Lyma's stolen yacht. She clamped her jaws, hating the trembling in her hand. Weak! Weak as a pus-starved maggot!

  The only blessing had been that no bones had broken when she'd been slammed into the floor during the attack on her Ministry.

  Ily turned, walking to the inset table and seating herself across from Arta.

  The bulb rattled as she placed it on the marble tabletop.

  Arta, amber eyes alert, noticed. "You're still not fully recovered. "

  Ily looked around, cataloging the fine fabrics that hung decoratively on the walls near the table, then settled back into the velvet upholstered cushions.

  "I must say, the Wing Commander traveled in splendor. Pretty plush. Not only that, this thing has guts. I tracked it at close to sixty gravities once."

  "It does perform rather well."

  "I thought you weren't much of a pilot?"

  "I learn very rapidly, as you have no doubt noticed." "And, like me, you don't always publish lists of your talents for the universe to study."

  "You need more time in bed."

  Ily shook her head slowly. "We don't have time for that. My data should be coming in. As soon as the comm lights up, we're spacing. I'll mend on the way to Terguz.-

  " Terguz? People utter curses in the name of Terguz.

  Ily cradled her drinking bulb with both hands, lifting it to her lips to sip at the steaming stassa. "Granted, when it comes to planets, Terguz isn't exactly a sparkling jewel. But we need a place that doesn't keep very good records. Terguz, despite its reputation, draws a lot of traffic-including Sassan. "

  "But I thought .

  "Of course you did, everyone did. On the other hand, the empire needed a place just like Terguz. So did the Sassans, for that matter. We have Terguz, they have Vega. Both planets function as exchange centers for items smuggled across the Imperial borders. We dutifully looked the other way. So did that fat Sassan God-Emperor. It wasn't in Tybalt's interest-or mine-to throttle a lucrative pipeline like Terguz. "

  "And I suppose the Terguzzi reputation as a wretched place kept a lot of traffic away?"

  "Who'd want to go there? We're talking about a frozen wasteland. The planet hovers halfway between being a gas giant and an ice ball. Conditions for most of the minersespecially the convicts and slaves-are appalling. Enough money, however, can make any place, no matter how miserable, habitable. Different people seek different things in

  life. Some on Terguz live very well according to their own needs and luxuries.

  "

  Arta tapped long fingernails on the shining marble. "And you, of course, have connections there.

  Ily grinned. "I wouldn't have been a very good Minister of Internal Security if I didn't. In this case, our advantage lies in the form of one Gyper Rill, a very capable administrator with the soul of a Riparian blood leech."

  Arta cocked her head and began twisting an auburn strand of hair around her fingers. "But you don't plan on living on Terguz, no matter how good the accommodations."

  "Very astute." A warm anger stirred within Ily. " Terguz is only the first stop. This yacht, splendid as it is, is like a death warrant. We can cache it someplace in case we ever need it, but for the moment, we must have less conspicuous transportation. Perhaps a CV-fast and anonymous."

  "Do you really think a CV will win your empire back for you? "

  Ily smiled, eyes slitting. "Win it back? No. But my memory has been coming back quite nicely, thanks to your nursing. When that file comes in from subspace, it will be even better. "

  "Assuming Staffa hasn't broken the codes."

  "He'll be in for a surprise when he does. No, Arta, we're going where Staffa will never think to look for us, the one place he'd never expect."

  "And where is that?" "Itreata, of course."

  Arta laughed in a melodious contralto. "You got a harder knock on the head than I thought! Staffa keeps the tightest security in all of Free Space. Even Bruen, with all the advantages of the Seddi networks, had to throw an entire planet into revolution in an attempt to lure Staffa close enough so I might get a chance at him! "

  "You still might get that opportunity. But Staffa has a vulnerability-one that has probably escaped his mind. And you, Arta, are the key that will unlock Itreata's impregnable door for me. "

  "Would you care to fill me in on the details?"

  "Not yet. " Ily frowned, the steam from the stassa curling before her delicate nose. In her mind's eye, she could see it all, the gleaming white corridors of Itreata, and the sudden

  understanding on Staffa's face as Ily's blaster leveled. But she wouldn't kill him . . . not right away.
>
  Skyla balanced, knees bent, back arched, as anger pulsed with each beat of her heart. She struck, movements a blur of toned nerve and muscle. She recovered, motionless, then struck again, killing Arta Fera in her imagination. She'd begun to pant, sweat breaking out on her skin-but better to work off her rage on imaginary enemies than to turn it loose on the fixtures of the therapy room.

  She lashed the air again, hammering her mental victim with punches and kicks.

  From the corner of her eye, she studied herself in the mirror, a beautiful woman, tall, muscular, and trim. She had the body of a gymnast, supple and toned. Skyla's ice-blonde hair swept the floor when loose, but as usual, she'd braided it tightly, looping the braid around her left shoulder and pinning it with the epaulet. For her release, she'd managed to obtain a suit of her snowy white armor, and, as always, it conformed to the perfect curve of her high breasts, narrowing across her flat muscular stomach.

  At that moment, the hatch slipped open to admit Staffa. Despite her anger, Skyla's heart leapt, spurred by the concern in his face. As he stopped before her, she noticed the strain in his eyes, the tension around his mouth. Red streaked the whites of his gray eyes, and his face appeared puffy and drawn like that of a man pushed too far.

  I'Ready to go? " he asked neutrally, a wary set to his posture.

  She shot him a frosty blue glance, then reluctantly lowered her stare and began tapping a nervous toe. "Damned right, I'm ready to go." And as soon as we're out of here, I'm going to rip you apart!

  "We've checked her from top to bottom, Lord Commander, " the Medical Officer said as he straightened from behind his desk console and clasped his hands behind his back. "She's fit for physical duty. No harm was done outside of slight malnutrition. "

  "I'm fine, I tell you," Skyla growled. "Staffa, they've got me on restricted duty . . . for psychological observation!"

  "That's right. I had to second that order."

  She gave him a glare cold enough to freeze sunlight. Staffa! I'm--

  "Stop it right there, Wing Commander. " He raised a hand, one eyebrow lifted.

  "If you'd like, let's go to quarters and discuss it, shall we? "

  Rotted right, we will. Skyla colored, hot anger eating redly at her pale flesh and accentuating the line of scar tissue that traced her cheek. She glanced warily at the Med Officer and nodded, heading purposefully for the hatch.

  "Thank you," Staffa called to the Medical Officer as he wheeled in pursuit.

  The man simply winked, nodding his understanding. When he realized Skyla had seen, his flesh went pale at the promise of retribution in her frigid glare.

  Skyla waited until they were in the corridor before she exploded. "Pus licking Gods! Staffa, I'm perfectly fit! There isn't a Rotted thing wrong with my command ability. I'm getting damn -tired of everyone treating me like a cracked egg!

  Staffa matched her adrenaline-powered stride as she added, "What the hell do you think you're doing? Treating me like I'm a security threat? Let me tell you something, mister. Just who do you think has been keeping this organization together for the last couple of years? And Tap and Tasha are just as bad! Every time I talk to them through comm, they've got a sheepish expression that makes me want to puke! I don't need to be treated like an invalid! So why in Rotted Hell did you leave me down there? You received every single comm request to get me out! I know you did! It was on command code-or did you change that while I was gone? Hmm? Afraid Ily had it?"

  "I accepted the best advice I could get."

  "I'm sure you did." She studied him closely. "Chrysla's?

  "Among others."

  She ground her teeth, heat pumping as she knotted hard fists.

  Staffa reached over, grabbing her, spinning her to face him. "Skyla, you're smarter than that. Think about what you're saying . . .

  and why. "

  Wild fear possessed her, then grudgingly faded to reason. What would you have done differently, Skyla? The anger began to wilt, a tremble irritated the edge of her lip. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm a bit flippier than I thought I was."

  He hustled her into the lift, ordering it to his personal deck. They rode in silence, each staring at the white walls. But what about Chrysla?

  Arta's gleaming eyes lingered at the edge of Skyla's consciousness. Arta and Chrysla-the same flesh. One had taken a piece of Skyla's soul, would the other take a piece of her heart?

  At the corridor to Staffa's quarters, she balked, glancing uneasily at his heavy hatch. "What about her, Staffa? " In frustration she threw up her hands.

  "What about you and me . . . and her? Where did she come from? Rot it, what do you want me to do?"

  Staffa took her hand and tugged her along. "So many questions, and you've got to have all the answers now, this second. What happened to you? What did Ily do? You tell me . . . I'll tell you. But first, I want to explain something. I love you. When Arta grabbed you, I went berserk, afraid I'd have to live it all over again. " She read the desperation as he stared at her. "Do you understand?"

  She nodded, pulled away, and slapped the lock plate. Once inside his quarters she wandered over to the fireplace and exhaled raggedly. She bowed her head, rubbing her face nervously. "Staffa, that day I went out . . . when you met me at the yacht, I should have listened. It's my fault. I should have known Tyklat wasn't being straight. I went out there and . . . and . . . "

  "Hush. " His reassuring arms slipped around her, drawing her against his warm body. "You were right. I was trying to smother you, overprotect you. Think back, Skyla. What if I'd told you no? You're the Wing Commander of the Companions, and you have to take risks just like the rest Of us."

  She crumbled then, racked by shivers. Staffa picked her up, carrying her across the room, through the Ashtan door to the sleeping quarters. There, he settled on the bedding, cradling her in his arms.

  "I broke, Staffa The tears began to leak past her tightly pressed eyelids.

  Images of her naked body entwined with Arta's burned through her chilled flesh. "I . . . tried . . . failed. "

  "Anyone will. Mytol can't be-"

  "No. Before that," she whispered miserably. "Arta . . . Arta did it, with only the slave collar. She . . . she . - - " "It's all right. People are made to break. They're also

  made to fix themselves." He stroked her hair, watching the light gleam on those pale strands. "I broke after the Praetor played with my mind. In the desert, wearing the collar, I found out I could fix myself, too. You'll never be the same, Skyla. Accept that. But, believe me, the only permanent damage is to pride."

  She nodded, sniffing, pulling herself upright and wiping away the tears.

  "Nothing will ever be the same again. I'm sorry you had to see this."

  "Why? Afraid I won't love you as much if I see you cry? Afraid that I won't trust you, or your abilities?" He hugged her close. "Skyla, I trust you with my life."

  "But not my command?"

  He laughed, getting to his feet and pouring two bulbs of Ashtan rye from the dispenser. She met his warm gaze as he handed her one and settled beside her again. "If it's that important to you, you can walk out of here and take your watch on the bridge. Yes, I trust you. Now, will you trust me? "

  We're walking on thin ice, Staffa. She masked the terror eating at her guts.

  "You want to explain that?"

  "With trust comes responsibility. Take some time off and come to grips with what happened. I know you, Skyla. For years you've pushed yourself harder and more mercilessly than anyone I've ever seen. It's worked well enough to make you the most powerful woman in Free Space. Now, for the first time, that alabaster self-image has taken a direct hit. Having just gone through a period of my own, I have an indepth understanding about how goofy a person can get-or don't you remember?"

  A faint smile bent her lips despite the panic she felt. "I do. But it's not the same, Staffa."

  "Of course not. Every human being is different." He frowned. "Think of it this way. You wouldn't expect to go in on a ground assault if
you had a wounded leg, would you?"

  "That's silly!" What are you getting at?

  "Not at all. As I said, your sense of who you are just took a direct hit-like a shot breaking your leg. Take some time. Just like regenerating a limb, you've got to regenerate your sense of self."

  She sighed, shoulders slumping. "How come you haven't given me a complete debriefing yet?"

  "We have the tapes Ily made. A copy was in the interrogation room. We hit so fast they didn't have time to remove it. I know exactly what you told her. "

  "Rotted Gods. " Skyla stared vacantly into the honey depths of her drink. "I'm glad of that. I'm not so sure anymore about what I might have said. I was there for a long time. First Ily asked me questions, then Gysell. Even before they started, I was pretty rocky because of what Arta did. "

  "That's the part I don't know about. " He held up a hand. "You don't have to tell me now. Just think about it. Is there anything I need to know for security reasons? Anything Arta pried out of you?"

  Skyla bit her lip and frowned, then slowly shook her head. "She wasn't really interested in security. She just . . . " Staffa waited patiently while Skyla's hands went tight around the drinking bulb.

  Tell him. You owe it to him . . . no matter how it hurts you. "She just wanted me, Staffa. We fought a battle of wills. First I just thought about escape.

  She . . . " Skyla swallowed hard, throat working. "She's good. Too damn good.

  When it appeared . . . When hope was gone, I . . . I knew the only way to win was to die. "

  Skyla looked up, eyes shining with pain. "I tried, Staffa. I had a cache of weapons, but I had to get to them for long enough to cut the collar off . I thought maybe I could win that way . . . take my ship back. My mistake. When I got my hands on the vibraknife, I should have cut my heart out first thing. I failed, Staffa. I failed." She hesitated. "After that, I did everything I could to get her to kill me."

  Staffa massaged her shoulders, his powerful fingers unable to relieve the knotted muscles. "Lucky for me you blew it."