The muscles in his cheeks twitched. “You slept with him in that bed, didn’t you? Slept with him here.”
She gazed into his odd eyes and nodded. “I did. At the time we ... well, I thought I could change him.” She smiled wistfully, breaking eye contact as she stared sadly into space. “We plotted together, he and I. We would change the lot of humanity. Oh, yes, that was the plan.”
She rolled off the bed, pacing in front of him, head down, hands locked demurely before her. “What a lot of Rot that turned out to be. Tybalt, curse you, it was all bluff, wasn’t it? A means of keeping me on my string while nothing changed.”
She turned then, clenching a knotted fist, fire in her eyes. “Well, this time it won’t happen that way. We’re going to take all of Free Space, Sinklar. And we’re going to create the sort of Empire that doesn’t perpetuate itself by lies and the abuse of power. “
He gave her a skeptical frown. “I wish I could really believe that.”
She tilted her head. “Mhitshul’s been at you, hasn’t he?”
“Would you like me to remove him? Transfer him?”
She crossed her arms and shook her head, aware of the effect as her black hair draped around her. “No. He gives you perspective. You’ll believe I’ve hoodwinked you without Mhitshul to provide a counterbalance. Honestly, I appreciate his skepticism.”
“Why?” She had him now. “Because I’m building for the future ... for us. I want you to come to me of your own free will, work with me because you’ve come to trust my judgment.” She bent down, taking his hand, staring worshipfully into his eyes. “Think about the history books, Sinklar. You and I will be remembered as the great reformers, the man and woman who freed humanity from tyranny! Isn’t that worth fighting for, building for?”
He pursed his lips, struggling desperately to believe her.
“Sink,” she hesitated. “I arrested the head engineer at the Power Authority.”
He recoiled as she’d expected, a hardness in his eyes.
“It’s not Boyzls fault. She didn’t know. I mean in fairness, Mac grabbed her away from her duties and shipped her off for Imperial Sassa.”
“ Boyz? What’s she got to do with this? Maybe you’d better start at the beginning.”
She nodded. “All right. Boyz thought that a man named Rokard Neru was the perfect person to put into position at the Power Authority. The man’s performance looked good, and he had a spotless record. Naturally, Boyz placed him in charge when Rath left. The problem is that Neru’s record was spotless for a reason. He and Rath had been thick for almost two decades.” She hesitated, as if reluctant. “And Neru has Seddi connections. I should have investigated before. Of course they’d plant someone in a critical position like-“
“Wait a minute. How do you know all this?”
She shrugged easily. “Our internal security wouldn’t be very secure if I didn’t do my job. You have the final decision as to who to replace Neru with, but let me recommend Assistant Engineer Serra. I had some of my people run a thorough check. He’s a family man. Has a lovely wife that he would do anything for, and seven children he adores. He sends part of his income to his parents, and, moreover, works overtime to make sure he does his job well. I’ll send his personal file over, or you can look at it now, if you’d like. “
His skepticism was evaporating and Ily pressed her case. “He makes a lot more sense than Neru. Neru was a loner. The Rotted Gods alone know what his hook was to keep Rath an a string. But if the Seddi had wanted to disrupt the Power Authority, Neru was ready and in a position to do a great deal of harm.
“All right. Serra gets the job.”
“And don’t blame Boyz,” Ily reminded. “She didn’t have time to run any checks on the people she promoted. “
Sinklar gave her a smile. “I thought you didn’t approve of my taking control of the vital services and privatizing them?”
She settled herself against him and took his hand. “I’ll admit, in the beginning I was a little irritated that you’d taken the action on your own. You could have told me first. But now I’m all for it. You might have your personnel contact me if they need a background check on any of these people. I can give them excellent advice on who would best serve our needs in the position.”
“I’ll do that.” His arm went around her shoulder. “You know, I feel a lot better than when I got here.” She patted his chest, smiling up at him. “We’ve got to talk more. I need to hear what’s bothering you so I can fix it. “
He nodded and bent down to kiss her gently. With practiced ease, she undid the fastenings of his armor.
Hours later, Sinklar lay on his back in Ily’s bed. He stared up at the endless layers of crystal overhead and chewed at the inside of his cheek. He couldn’t shake the nagging sensation of wrongness. It’s because she does with you what she once did with Tybalt-and in this same bed!
You’re a man now, Sinklar. This is the real world. You can’t expect to be the only man she’s slept with, he answered.
But was that it? Blasted Etaria, she never ceased to amaze him, or lead him to some new ecstasy. And, yes, he’d come here to tell her that he’d be cursed by the Rotted Gods if he’d live in Tybalt’s palace, but now? Her arguments made such good sense.
He turned his gaze, staring down at her where she lay against him. One of her full breasts pressed against his ribs, and her muscular thigh lay protectively over his hips. He reached down and idly stroked her knee and calf.
Time, Sinklar. She’s right. It’s just making the adjustment, that’s all. You’ll get used to it. She made happy noises deep in her throat as she stirred and resettled herself.
Something in her terrified expression, that’s what made Mac hesitate and release his pressure on the trigger. Arta Fera had been in exactly that same situation, staring right down the barrel of Sinklar’s pulse pistol-poised on the edge of death. On that occassion, Arta had, glared with the deadly rage of a wounded Etarian sand tiger. This Arta, however, stared at him with a mixture of petrified fear, despair, and resignation.
Mac lowered the pistol. “Who are you?”
The room came slowly back in to focus as his mind began to work. The main mess on the Markelos had gone hauntingly silent. His troops ringed the Sassans now.
Overhead, the atmosphere control fans hummed obliviously. Someone coughed. Zacharia Beechie still implored from his knees, tears of terror leaking from his eyes. Markelos’ captain stared at Arta with wide eyes, mouth agape, and then looked back at Mac.
“I’m Marie Attenasio,” the woman answered in Arta’s voice, but a subtle difference could be heard. The venom and anger Mac had keyed to Arta’s voice had been replaced by an enduring sorrow.
Mac chewed his lip, unsure. Pus take it, Arta was a clone, a knockoff produced by the Seddi and probably tailored for each individual mission. Arta had been designed to kill the Lord Commander-so who was Attenasio designed to kill?
“I want a squad here!” Mac barked. “This woman is to be placed under strict guard. She’s a Seddi assassin, people, so keep your distance.-
Marie was ringed with blasters wielded by grimfaced troops.
“A Seddi assassin?” Beechie cried, his voice almost a whimper? “And all this time. . . .”
Attenasio gave Beechie a long, suffering look. “I never lied to you, Zacharia. I told you as much of the truth as I could. “
“You! Captain, on your feet! Seddi, you get up, too. Captain, it’s time we go to your quarters and take care of some things. “
The Comm buzzed in Mac’s ear. “Red here, we’ve got a signal coming in from Gyton. Commander Braktov says congratulations. She’s dumping Delta V and matching. We’ve got techs on the way. They’ll land at the main lock and cycle. Uh, Mac, not every team made the jump. A lot of them ... well.
“I know. I know.” He still shook at the memory of that mind-defying image of the Sassan ship teetering out of reality. “Tell them.... Nothing. They’ll know what they did.”
And that
would be punishment enough, knowing that they hadn’t jumped-and no one would even dress them down for cowardice. Next time, if it meant jumping headlong into the mouth of a Rotted God, they’d go-and be smiling in the process.
“Let’s go, people.” Mac waved with his pistol and followed the captain. To his surprise, the Seddi clone walked with a painful limp. Yes, this one was a carbon copy of Arta Fera. Mac could feel that magnetism. Every male eye watched, and longed, as she left the room, head held high, balanced and poised, while her auburn hair tumbled down around her shoulders to glint copper in the light.
Mac’s squad remained unfazed, memories of Gretta’s body foremost in their minds-and hatred for the Seddi burning down inside them.
The captain palmed the lift control and stepped inside. Mac and the Seddi followed. He pressed his pistol into her side and tried not to think about her beauty, or her full breasts, or the alluring scent she exuded. The woman stared woodenly ahead as the captain ordered, “Officer’s deck.”
The lift rose soundlessly and Mac’s team stepped out, covering the captain and the Seddi. Mac took an instant to pull himself together, then he followed them to the captain’s cabin.
The room had more amenities than Mac had grown used to aboard Gyton. The captain’s quarters consisted of three rooms. The place smelled fresh and airy and had holo monitors in the walls that currently displayed planets and stars. The carpet gave underfoot and thick crystal arches gleamed transparently, rainbow colors jetting through them.
“Nice,” Mac admitted. “Captain, you and the Seddi lady will stand here and not move a muscle.”
His squad conducted a rapid yet thorough search, producing a brace of matched blasters inlaid with gold and silver, a shoulder weapon of more pragmatic finish, and the information that more could be hidden in secret places.
M14 That’s fine, the captain won’t be here for long.” ac turned his attention to the portly man, watching anger take the place of fear on the officer’s fat face. Mac made a waggling gesture with his pistol. “Do you surrender?”
“You’re a heretic pirate, may his Divineness damn you to eternal perdition.”
“All right, you don’t surrender. Corporal, take the captain down and hold him until Rysta’s people get here. When they do, I want a little Mytol dripped between this guy’s lips. Wring him dry and throw him out the lock.”
“You vile bastard!” the captain shouted, raising a pudgy fist and taking a step forward—only to stop dead as Mac’s expression hardened and the blaster centered under the man’s heart.
“If you’d surrendered, you’d have been treated as a prisoner of war. That’s according to the Holy Gawdamn Book, and we’ll honor that for the moment. Sorry. Corporal, get him out of here, and if he makes a wrong move, blow his knee apart. I think we may need him alive.”
The captain began to sweat then, pallor settling over his features. He jerked as the corporal jammed the blaster into his back and escorted him to the hatch.
Mac cocked his head pensively, then turned to the Seddi woman who watched him with level amber eyes. “Would you like to surrender?”
She nodded. “I will surrender. Subject to the Articles of War, section eight, paragraph seventeen: The treatment of captured foreign nationals. Such persons shall be treated as noncombatants and provided every courtesy within reason which does not hinder or delay the military in the pursuit of-“
“I know, I know. “ Mac sat down in one of the captain’s overstuffed gravchairs. “The problem is that we don’t consider the Seddi to be noncombatants. Not only that, but I’m starting to get real curious about how many more of you there are. Bruen must have cornered the Praetor’s market on your model.
She tensed, flinching slightly before she could control herself.
“Hit close to home, didn’t I?’ “I am not a Seddi, sir. I am. “Yes?”
“A private citizen making my way from Myklene to Imperial Sassa. Nothing more.” She paused. “Your mention of the Praetor only brought back memories of the defeated"
“Uh-huh. Look, we know the Praetor provided Bruen with clones.” Mac scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve met that polluted bastard. What’s it like to be his tool? To know that you’re just a thing to him, a weapon set to go off when a man touches you? How do you feel way down inside?”
A faint frown lined her perfect brow and mystification grew in her haunted eyes. She started to make a gesture of bafflement, and thought better of it, asking instead, “Would you tell me about this? I mean about these clones that look like me? Arta Fera, you said?”
Mac grunted and shrugged. “Sure. Just so we both know that all the tricks are out of the bag, I’ll play along. Now, I’m not privy to all the intricate details, but basically Magister Bruen-pus-sucker that he i uses you Chrysla replicants to. . . . “
He caught the flaring of the nostrils, the startled fear in the eyes, and the tremor of the jaw. Talk about a touched nerve!
“Chrysla,” Mac repeated numbly to himself in disbelief. No way, pal! This can’t be! But what about the fragile haunted character, the wounded fawn look in her eyes. It’s a filthy Seddi trick! She’s an assassin, and that’s her MO. She’s like a porcelain doll begging to,be protected-until she slips a vibraknife into your guts.
The fear had continued to build, glazing her amber eyes. She couldn’t stop the slim hand that rose to cover her mouth. She barely managed to quell a tremble that threatened to betray her.
Mac cocked his head, suddenly unsure. “You know, you’re going to be drugged. Do you want to tell me now?”
She shook her head, panic eating at her as she lowered her eyes and wilted into one of the chairs, her will crumbling. “Do what you will to me,” she whispered miserably. “It was too good to be true.”
“What was?”
“The chance to get away, to finally be free after all these years.
Mac licked his lips nervously. “Are you Chrysla? If you are ... if you can prove it, you’re safe. I’ll know if you’re telling the truth-and I won’t need Mytol.”
She blinked, glancing up incredulously. “How? How will you know?”
Mac shot a hard look at the guards. “Outside, folks. And, yes, I’ll be very careful. I don’t want to end up like Gretta. “
Shooting uneasy looks at each other, the rest of the squad filed from the room, one calling, “You holler if she tries anything. We’ll be through the door quicker’n you can split a neutrino and blow her all to Rotted Hell and back!”
“I’ll do that.” Mac watched the hatch slide closed. Marie’s expression had changed as if she now clung to a desperate hope that he might indeed help her. Her hands worked nervously at the fabric of her gown. “Why would you want to help Chrysla? Who do you think she is, anyway?”
Mac gave her a crafty grin. “I’ll be honest, Chrysla is something of a mystery to me. I know she was married to the Lord Commander, Staffa kar Therma. According to the story, the Praetor of Myklene stole her, and her son, away from Staffa about twenty years ago. The Lord Commander literally turned Free Space upside down looking for her ... and for his son.
Pain brightened her eyes.
Mac shifted uncomfortably. “According to the story, the Praetor kept Chrysla until a ship called the Pylos was destroyed over Myklene. And now, you’re coming from there. You’ve been wounded recently, the way a woman might be if she were escaping a dying ship. “
She looked beyond Mac, as if she was focused on another time and place, and her lips barely moved as she said, “Captain Marston gave me an emergency pass-the first slip in security in all those years. I clutched that little card as if it were life itself.” The wounded look returned. “I knew how they felt about each other. Staffa never admitted his hatred, but it lay there, sleeping, buried under the conditioning the Praetor had implanted so cleverly.” She gasped then, glancing up to give Mac a radiant smile. “Sorry, just making up a story. That’s what I do. Tell stories to children. I make my living that way. “
“Y
eah, right.” Mac crossed his arms. “My turn for a question. Did you or did you not bear Staffa a child?”
She tried to smile it away. “Do you really think a woman like me could have been married to someone as powerful as the Lord Commander?”
“Could you recognize your son if you saw him today?”
She watched him pleadingly. “I never had a son.” Mac sighed. “We’ll put you under the Mytol-unless you answer that question. Chrysla ... Marie, listen to me. I give you my word that even if you aren’t who I think you are, I won’t hurt you. Even if you are a Seddi assassin, I won’t hurt you. Please, this might mean everything to a lot of people I love, and a couple I respect a great deal.” He paused. “Including Staffa. “
Her full lips parted. “You know Staffa?”
“He saved my life on Targa. Offered me a position with the Companions. At the time, I couldn’t take it. He got mixed up with the Seddi while he was searching for his son. “
Her throat worked, and this time she couldn’t stop the tears. She dropped her head, auburn hair spilling to hide her features. “If you only knew, sir. All those years . . . wondering, praying. Then when I heard Staffa might strike Myklene, I thought perhaps he ‘knew. I thought.... Well, never mind. I got out. Used the pass to get down to the escape pods-but there was an officer there. He ... he was skeptical. Wanted to call the captain ... and. . . . “
She began to sob. Mac battled to hold himself back. She sniffed and looked up at him with swimming eyes. “I don’t know why it still hurts. The Praetor. . . .” She reached for him, the desperation filling her again. “Yes, sir. I-I’m Chrysla Marie Attenasio.”
Mac tried to smile, but the implications had begun to sink in. “You’re safe. I give you my word, we’ll protect you from the whole of Free Space if we have to.” And if anyone finds out who you are, they’d kill to get their hands on you! Then another cold wind blew through Mac’s soul. Assuming we live past the showdown at Imperial Sassa.
The entire wall of the room provided a threedimensional holo of the battlefield. Mykroft concentrated on the Groups attacking a low knoll. Rot it all, the system worked, whether he liked to admit it or not.