Part One
By Shadar and
Brantley
Harry Maclendon was nursing his fifth glass of
Vogel beer as he slowly drowned himself in the beautiful blue eyes of the
singer. Shed been singing for barely an hour, but he was already starting to
feel a strange fondness for her. He wasnt sure if that came from his
loneliness after Tamra's death, or if it was just the singers
beautiful voice. He drained his beer. More likely the black gown that clung so
tightly to her figure, cut down the front to her navel, the short skirt showing
off her long legs. Or all that flowing, golden-blonde hair, with bangs that hid
her eyes. All he knew for sure was that hed not been smitten this way since he
was a teenager. And hed married that girl thirty-two years ago.
He ordered another Vogel and then leaned back
in his chair, deciding to just enjoy the song. He didnt want to think about
his dead wife. Still less about how she had been taken from him. Or his growing
loneliness. He had to get past all that. Instead, he focused on simply enjoying
the music. The bartender had told him the four, a drummer, a bassist, a
guitarist/horn player, and of course the singer, were part of a group called
Pandoras Box, operated out of Port New Townsend. According to the bartender, theyd been working the Reigel Five cruise circuit for the last two years.
He couldnt put his finger on it, but there
was something about the singer that went beyond her looks. Or her voice, which
was strong and sibilant. In his opinion, one of the best female singing voices
hed ever heard. What bothered him was why such a stunningly beautiful and
talented singer was working this cheap lounge on C-deck. Decorated like a
tropical garden, the walls covered in cheap painted images of flowers and
trees, it was strictly an economy class club. She should be up on the Promenade
with the First Class passengers. Or on the catwalk, modeling million dollar
fashions. Her every motion was so sinuously flexible, like a powerful cat, and
her blue eyes seemed to look into every mans eyes, causing them to stir in the
way of men.
He closed his eyes, shutting out the angelic
vision. It had to be the booze getting to him. Vogel was reputed to contain a
trace of a rare hallucinogen, which is why it was so expensive. He opened his
eyes, only to find that she looked even more beautiful. Flawless. He took a
deep draught of his new beer, telling himself his fascination was probably
simply due to the fact that he hadnt been with a woman since Tamra was killed. He
knew the drill. As her memory faded, his inhibitions would fall, and both those
changes were lubricated by alcohol. It was a familiar enough theme, played out
in bars and clubs across the galaxy every day. All he really knew for sure was
that he wasnt going to leave this club until he got a chance to buy her a
drink.
A ten spot to the bartender yielded her name: Molly.
Molly was winding down her last song of the
set, a Celtic ballad from old Earth, when a powerful explosion shook the room,
knocking everyone off their feet. Harry dove under his tiny table. The sudden
darkness was broken by emergency lighting. The singer and the bartender were
the only ones standing when Harry got back to his feet. People began to crowd toward the exit
door, the smarter ones looking very scared.
Harry thought first about Molly, at least
until he saw her standing tall, glancing around the room, her eyes glowing with
a strange light. Her focus was displaced, almost like she was seeing things he
couldnt see. Things further away. She looked here and there, up toward the
ceiling, then back toward the bulkhead facing the stern of the ship. Whatever
it was that she saw, it caused her to spring into action. Her calm singing
voice guided people to the stairs as the crew worked to quickly empty the
lounge. No one panicked.
Harry joined her in helping some of the older
and slower moving patrons to the stairs. He'd put in twenty years with the
Reigellian Intelligence Service before retiring, and his training had included
dealing with emergencies of every kind -- including occasional terrorist
attacks. Since the pre-emptive coup a couple of years back -- the one that had
occasioned his wife's death and his own retirement -- such attacks were no longer occasional. But
hitting a cruise ship -- that was new. That was escalation.
Dont panic, just keep moving. No need to
rush, he and Molly both kept telling people as they worked opposite sides of
the room.
Harry turned back to check the room a final
time, finding that Molly was the only one left now. She was standing by the far
exit, staring strangely at the floor again, only to be startled out of her
trance when the watertight door behind her crashed down to seal against the
floor.
We gotta go, Harry shouted to her, motioning
her toward his exit. She looked up at him as she brushed the hair from her
eyes, revealing luminous eyes, and had taken but a single step when a similar
door crashed down to block Harrys doorway. He turned and pounded against the
riveted door, but his fists bounced off the thick steel, barely making a noise.
He spun around, a touch of panic gnawing at him. Is there a phone down here?
he asked her.
Molly shook her head, blonde tresses flowing
freely over bare shoulders. Doesnt work. Explosions were in the control room,
and up on B-deck forward. Everythings down but the auxiliary power.
Two explosions? I only heard one.
They were well synchronized.
Were under attack? Harry asked, dumfounded.
How do you know all this?
The sprinklers suddenly came on, dousing them
both with icy water. That was very brave, Harry, she shouted over the noise.
Helping everyone else ahead of yourself. She brushed the wet hair from her
face as she looked levelly into his eyes. I heard the bartender giving you my
name.
Harry just stared at her, wondering how shed
overheard the bartenders words over the music. Or how she knew his name.
Perhaps someone had pulled his name from the passenger manifest based on the
room number hed used to charge the drinks. Given the way hed been staring at
Molly all night, maybe the bartender had checked him out and gotten her
permission before passing her name to him. If so, then Athenian Lines was
better organized than hed expected. Especially down here in this lowest class
lounge. I used to work for RIS. Retired now, but I guess the old instincts die
hard.
I figured as much. She looked up at him as
she tossed her long hair over her left shoulder. So what do you know about
Velorians, Harry?
Whats that got to do with anything? We need
to let people know were down here.
Actually, that question is about to have
everything to do with your life, Harry. Or whether you even have one.
What the hell are you talking about?
Humor me for a moment.
Harry sighed in exasperation. She was so
beautiful that he found it hard to get mad at her, even if she was wasting
precious time.
About the same as everyone else, I guess, he
said with a shrug. Superhumans, and strong as hell and they can fly. Also,
they seem to come in only one hair color. Like the Protector and the others
here.
He paused as a funny thought tickled his mind.
She smiled, anticipating the words that were going to come to his lips before
he said them. Like yours, actually.
The ship lurched again as he said that,
tilting further to the port side. A sickening surge of panic mixed with his
growing claustrophobia to wash over him, pushing away any amorous thoughts hed
had about Molly. Shit! This old tub is going down, and fast! He turned back
to begin pounding on the watertight door, shouting for help.
No one can hear you, Harry, Molly said
softly. Were too deep in the hull. Most everyone else is topside now. We
havent got any communications, and the waters rising fast, so they cant open
those doors. Nobodys coming back down here.
Harry spun back around to face her, his eyes
wide in fear. She looked calm, almost sad. Then why arent you scared
shitless?
Because Im a Velorian, Harry. And we dont
scare easily.
Thats impossible, he scoffed. Vels who get
off their home planet are all Protectors, or serving in the Diplomatic Corps,
or as military advisors. Not singing in some cheap lounge on C-deck of a second
rate cruise line.
Im not sure if I should be offended, or
proud that Ive managed to avoid even your suspicions.
Harry forced himself to exhale, trying to keep
breathing normally so as to push back the panic. I didnt mean it that way. I
love your singing.
Of course you meant it that way. But Im not
one of those Protectors, Harry. In fact, Im on the opposite end of that
spectrum. I was crewing on a Velorian ship, singing just like I am here, when
it got hit by an Aurean dreadnought. Instead of fighting, I grabbed my little
sister and we flew for our lives. Last thing I saw was a sunburst behind me as
the anti-matter pods imploded. She took a deep breath. There were no
survivors listed.
So you came to Reigel Five, Harry nodded,
strangely finding her story believable, even if this was hardly the time for
it. Dont you work with the other Velorians over at the embassy?
They dont even know my sister and I are
here. If they did, wed either get sent home, or wed be pressed into the
Intelligence service. Like you used to be. And facing Primes when were only
B-class is about as hopeless for us as you punching your way through that
water-tight door.
Harry looked nervously back at the steel door,
trying to stay focused on what should have been the most fascinating
conversation of his life. Instead, it was just getting in the way of finding a
way out of here. So whats a B? he asked, his words clipped and nervous. He
felt the sweat forming on his brow as the air grew stale and hot.
Bs are the lowest of the low on Velor.
Weaker than any other Vels, and not blessed with a Ps beauty. She glanced
around and sighed heavily, a hint of sadness in her eyes now. Not too many
decent jobs back home these days, so I went for that shipboard gig. Then Im
lost in space, and now Im about to be lost at sea. Must be my karma.
The cruise ship lurched again, then,
encouragingly, it started to right itself slightly. Harry was starting to feel
hopeful when one end of the room started to tilt strongly downward, the tables
and chairs sliding that way. Harry hung onto the bar, while Molly stood
motionless in the sea of sliding chairs and tables, seemingly impervious to the
forces of gravity.
Thats all very interesting, Molly, he
shouted over the din as the deck tilted further. But we got a serious problem
right now. How were you planning on getting out of here?
Wait until the ship hit bottom and then break
out through the hull and swim for the surface. No witnesses that way.
Harry shivered. I dont think I like that
plan. Two-thousand feet may be shallow for you, but--
Yeah, I gotcha, she said as she rose to face
him, her eyes so piercingly blue behind her tangled, wet hair. Its about time
to get out of here.
A thrill raced through his body as he drank in
her perfection, her daringly cut top drawing his eyes to her breasts. Being the
gentleman he was, he forced his eyes back up to hers, wondering what she was
looking at.
Get undressed, Harry. Fast. Well be in the
water soon, and your clothing will only slow you down.
They cant save the ship?
No way, she shook her head. Hole as big as
a garage near the bow. A third bomb apparently. Fortunately were cruising off
Calantra. Waters warm, from the vent.
Relatively speaking, Harry thought. For
a world as wintry as Reigel Five. But still the warmest place on the planet,
enough to make it the most popular resort among natives and offworlders alike.
And the cruise line could take you there one day and to a pristine ice shelf
the next. Neat travel package. But the water temperature begged the question.
Theres still the pressure. I cant take even
fifty feet, let alone half a mile. And therell still be witnesses, if we go
straight up.
Dont worry about that. Molly turned her
back to him to face the steel door. Im going to take a risk of exposing
myself to get us out of here earlier. Itll be chaos up above in any case.
They'll be too busy to notice we didn't just jump from the railing when the
ship went down.
She lifted her arms and bent backward to
stretch, displaying amazing flexibility by placing her palms together behind
her back. She brought her arms back around and flexed her fingers before
straightening them into blades, four fingers of each hand rigidly outstretched,
her thumb tucked in. She threw herself at the water-tight door, her fingertips
hitting the steel with a ringing clang. Astoundingly, she embedded them half
their length in the steel.
Harry found himself gawking as Molly began to force
her hands outward, the steel door giving off a vibrating groan that shook the
deck beneath Harrys feet. Her back and shoulders suddenly looked phenomenally
strong. Shifting her grip, she straightening one upraised arm while pushing the
opposite direction with her other hand, and gave a mighty push with her arms at
forty-five degree angles. The steel door popped and shrieked, rivets flying as
she tore a ragged semicircular hole in the three-inch steel.
Her entire body was a maze of muscular curves
by the time she turned to the side and ducked down and through the opening
shed made. Harry just stared at the hole, stunned by her display of superhuman
strength. She was just a lounge singer. And what was that about Bs being the
weakest Velorians? If this was an example of Velorian weakness, then Harry
wasnt sure he could imagine what the strongest Velorians must be like.
His racing thoughts were interrupted as the
deck tilted even steeper, and he had to grab a railing to stay on his feet. He
staggered across the floor, pausing at the water-tight door to marvel at the
way her fingers had made deep indentations in the steel, her fingerprints
visible even to his naked eye. He had no idea how much raw strength it had
taken to fold up thick steel like that, but it was a hell of lot. A fucking
hell of a lot.
He finally ducked through the opening to find
Molly standing by a moist wall on the far side of the next compartment. He hung
onto some braces on the wall as the ship rolled further, putting her downhill from
him. He realized with horror that the liner was about to turn turtle.
Im going to open the outer hull, Harry. Its
going to get wet now, so hold your breath. We arent very deep yet.
She repeated the same procedure as before,
except for hammering her fists into the thicker hull several times first to
make two deep depressions.
Harry struggled to both hang on and cover his
ears as the resounding clang nearly deafened him.
Finally satisfied with the depressions, Molly
jammed her outstretched fingers into them like before. This time eight streams
of cold water exploded into the room. Harry took a few deep breaths as he saw
the muscles bunching across her shoulders again, then down her back, and
seconds later, a wall of water exploded inward to smash him up against
bulkhead. Everything went black.
Harry blinked his eyes open to find that he
was lying on a bed in a dimly lit room. He rolled onto his side and coughed up
some phlegm. His lungs felt congested, and his chest was tight and achy. The
last thing he remembered was Molly tearing open the hull and the dark water
rushing in.
He rolled out of the deep, feather-soft bed to
turn on a light, only to find he was in a womans bedroom. Clothing was hanging
on hooks, and a closet on the far side of the room was stuffed full with a
womans clothing. Most of it was exotically styled, some of it bordering on
stage costumes. Strangely, there was no evidence of intimate wear, just outer
garments. Even more interestingly, the dressing table was nearly devoid of
cosmetics. Some lip gloss and a hair brush were the only things there. Hed
read somewhere that Vels rarely wore makeup. With their complexion, it could
only detract from perfection, or so hed heard it said.
It didnt take a genius to realize he was
lying in Mollys bed. If it wasnt for the fact that he couldnt remember how
hed gotten there, that would have been exciting as hell. How many Terran men
had spent a night in a Velorians bed? It would make for a great tale when he
met up with the guys in a bar back home.
A lot of men on Reigel Five carried secret
fantasies of Velorians. It came out after a few drinks. Some of the men even
made pilgrimages to the Velorian embassy just to see one of them in
person. He hadnt really been that
obsessed, although he remembered being very impressed when this one leggy,
long-haired blonde had shocked him by leaping from the street while he was on a
mission in Perthy ten years ago. Her acceleration had been so rapid that she
literally disappeared before his eyes. Her sonic boom had thundered between the
downtown buildings, her shock wave compressing his chest so powerfully that it
made his heart beat funny and left his ears ringing for the next hour. Several
women and children had been blown off their feet. Hed helped them back to
their feet, brushing the street dust from their coats, wondering what the hell
was going on.
Hed read the next day that several citizens
had filed complaints at the Velorian embassy. The embassy published an official
apology. Harry wasnt about to complain himself, given that he was working
underground in Perthy, trying to track down some renegade Aryans. As he heard
later, the Velorian hed seen was a mere clerk at the embassy whod had an
argument with a local merchant.
That set Harry to wondering: if a mere clerk
could fly like that, and a lounge singer could rip open steel bulkhead and a
ships hull, what could a mighty Protector do?
He wasnt going to complain in any case. Hed
just been saved from certain drowning. The only problem was that he wasnt sure
if he should be frightened of Molly or eternally grateful. He decided to be
both.
Taking a deep breath, he opened the bedroom
door and stepped out into a gray plastered room. An overstuffed leather couch
was located along one wall, and the stone floor was covered in colorful wool
rugs. A number of unusual pieces of art decorated the walls, including some
large holos of Reigel Five that had been taken from high orbit. He guessed theyd
been taken by Molly during her travels.
He was interrupted from his musing by the
sound of a tea pot whistling. He turned and headed toward the sound. He was
halfway to the kitchen door when a nearly naked and very tall blonde girl walked
into the living room from outside. She looked like a younger version of Molly as she
paused to pose coquettishly and stare back at him, tilting her head as she brushed her hair from her
face with one hand.
Harry froze, not sure what to say. A small
voice in the back of his head reminded him that some Velorians chose not to wear
clothing when at home.
Are you O.K? she tried again. You swallowed
a lot of water yesterday. Her voice was just as smooth and sibilant as
Mollys. An alto tone accented
with a hint of guttural breathiness. Her Galactic English was good -- so good
that he could barely detect her Velorian accent.
He swallowed hard and put his brain back into
gear, trying to keep his eyes on hers. Im sorry, but we havent met. Im
Harry Maclendon. He held out his hand.
She lowered her hand to clasped his. Her
fingers were long, her skin warm from holding the teapot, and her firm
handshake bordered on painful. Im Anya, she smiled as she gave his hand an
even tighter squeeze.
A most appropriate name, given your Nordic background. For
some reason, he felt it important to let her know that he was familiar with
Velorian history. Harry decided that she looked 16 or 17. Youre Mollys
younger sister?
A tiny smile tilted her lips as she held onto
his hand longer than was polite. A sudden rush of desire washed over him as his
eyes drank in her unearthly beauty, his reaction forcing him to withdrew his
hand as quickly as was polite. It somehow seemed dangerous for this naked
teenage girl to have the kind of strength that Molly had exhibited. Hed had
two sisters, and theyd been flighty and emotional at Anyas age. His older
sister had tortured him until he grew strong enough to hold his own.
Still, he couldnt help but stare into Anyas
huge eyes, finding that they were even more compelling than her older sisters.
If Molly had been a 15 on a Terran scale of 10, then Anya had to be a 16.
Procreators for the Galen, he thought, remembering more of his Velorian
history. A woman designed to mate with a god and bear his young. Youre youre a singer too? he stumbled, not
exactly sure what else to say to this teenage goddess.
Yeah. My sister and I usually work a duet.
Except for her last gig. She walked into the living room and sat down to pour
her tea.
You really feeling O.K? Anya asked
as she watched his eyes mist over, wondering what he was thinking. My sister
had to revive you, and for a bit, she thought shed lost you. The ship was
deeper than shed thought by the time she got you out. You were so cold.
Harry turned his head and coughed again. Im
still not a hundred percent, but Ive felt worse. Got shot once, and that
wasnt fun.
I cant imagine what that must have felt
like. How frightening it was.
Given your gifts, you dont have to worry
about that.
But Id like to experience pain sometime. To
maybe not feel so perfect all the time.
Excuse me if I have trouble being
sympathetic, Harry laughed.
Im serious. I wish I was human.
The smile faded from Harrys face as looked at
her strangely. Why in Gods blue universe would a goddess like you want to be
so much less than you are?
Goddess? she scoffed. Dont let this pretty
body fool you. Its just a shell.
His eyes drifted down at her breasts, and he
had to force them back to hers. He tried not to sound lecherous as he spoke.
Well, if thats a shell, its a damned impressive one. What he didnt say was
that she and her sister were far more beautiful than was conceivable for anyone
related to mere humans. Anya in particular was a glowing testament to
healthiness and strength. I mean, youre a supergirl in every way that can be
measured.
Which is all anyone sees, she said as she
flopped onto one end of the couch, acting like the teenage girl she was. So I
always have to hide this big secret to keep from intimidating guys. Wearing
gold, the whole bit.
No secrets here, Harry said, not sure at all
where this was going. And whats this about gold?
It makes me more human. Which is why I
usually wear it.
Harry was opening his mouth to ask more about
that when the front door opened and Molly breezed in. She looked marvelous in a
tight pair of jeans, high-heeled boots and a sleeveless top that left her tight
midriff bare. Her hair was tied back into a long braid that hung nearly to her
waist.
So, my music lover lives. Wasnt so sure
about that for a moment last night.
I swallowed some water. So Anya told me.
Glad you guys met, Molly said as she walked
through the small living room to toss her purse on kitchen counter. Harry
followed her into the kitchen, only to see her floating upward to settle on the
counter, her long legs dangling as she kicked her boots off. She turned her
head to the side and undid her long braid next, combing it out with her
fingers. It came free without kinks or tangles, spreading outward to cover her
shoulders, looking as like shed just shampooed and blow-dried it. And as far
as last night, nearly drowning wasnt your real problem, Harry. The ship had
rolled over, putting us at the bottom and about 800 feet down. You were out of
it so I had to breathe for you as we came up. You were seriously hypothermic by
the time I get you back here. Both from the cold water and the slipstream.
Slipstream?
How do you think I got you here? Were eight
hundred miles from where the ship went down.
We we flew?
Actually, I did. You just came along for the
ride.
Sounds like I put you through some hassle.
No problem. Anya and I warmed you up. We
generate a fair bit of body heat.
Youre kidding, Harry said as he remembered
the best way to warm up a freezing person. Put them between two warm people and
cover with blankets. Bare skin to bare skin. I slept that way? With both of
you? All night?
Yup. Like a baby.
Harrys mind started spinning. And I dont
remember a damn thing. He closed his eyes, trying to push away the
mind-boggling image of being sandwiched between two naked Velorians. I owe you
my life. Thanks.
I looked up your record, Harry. A few hundred
people owe their lives to you. Consider this a down-payment on making things
right.
You dont owe me anything.
Maybe not me personally, but for the moment,
consider me your guardian angel.
I dont understand. I mean, yeah, I do,
understand the angel part that is. But I dont need a guardian.
Molly smiled at his awkward compliment. Well,
given what I saw on the Holo this morning, youre wrong on that account. Seems
that the bombing of our ship was intended to take out you and the dozen other
RIS agents who were traveling with you.
Damn it, Harry shouted, punching his fist
into his palm. RIS had issued the standard warnings about too many agents
getting together. A bunch of us get together every year. Most of us retired.
Most of us travel with our wives.
Well, somebodys definitely pissed off at you
guys. And given that the bomb was smuggled on board right under the eyes of
Security, Im betting the Aryans had some inside help.
Harry closed his eyes as he asked, Did anyone
else make it out?
Molly looked down at her feet for a long
moment, then back up into his eyes. Youre the only RIS agent who lived
through the explosion and sinking, Harry. Four agency wives were lost
too."
Any other casualties? Harry asked, his jaw
tight.
Only a few. Seems the bombers and their
backup people knew exactly who they wanted. If we hadnt met, they would have
made a clean sweep of all RIS agents.
"I knew they shouldn't have
booked adjacent compartments. Not the way things have been going. Does the
agency know I made it out?
Nobody knows youre alive, Harry. Your name
is on the list of those who perished. President Bergstrom personally led a
memorial service last night, and your name was read.
Jesus! My
daughter. Ive got to call her. He looked around for a holo-phone.
Not so fast, Harry. You have a couple of
advantages right now if you want to get back at the bastards who did this. The
first advantage is that they think youre dead. The second is Anya and me.
Harry just stared at her. What are you
talking about?
Im betting your agency has got some Aryan
moles in it. Nothings secure when theyre around. If you call in, then the
shooters will come looking for you. Possibly your family as well.
Maybe we should have kept the Diaboli, Harry thought. You
cant hide anything from them.
But that was water under the bridge. Molly was
right. He had to play along. Nodding, he looked back up at her. O.K. That
makes sense, I guess. Were all ghosts. You and Anya were supposedly killed in
that anti-matter burst, and I went down with the good ship Adelaide.
Molly held out her hand. A real dream team. A
couple of B-grade lounge singers on the run and an old retired fart. She
winked at him. Who could stop such a powerhouse?
Harry laughed as he took her hand, gripping it
back with all his strength. Damn straight.
Molly smiled brightly, her eyes sparkling like
blue diamonds. So, Harry Maclendon, perhaps your retirement isnt going to be
as boring as you first thought.
Cheree Belan'gan looked surprised as she
clicked off the holo-vid. After months of silence, Klaus Verndanan had just
demanded her presence in his office.
Since the day he'd been installed as the
Velorian ambassador to Reigel Five, Verndanan had been trying to terminate her
assignment here. He blamed her for the debacle that had greeted his arrival and
thus, so he thought reflected on him.
It was her second posting here, following the Battle
of Klas'ten. Her first had been most irregular, equivalent to a field
commission in the military. Fresh from her Rites, before she'd even taken
formal training at Erin'dor But she'd acted as a Protector, and Major Terri
Raul'lan had somehow wangled a provisional appointment. She seemed to have a
knack for that kind of thing, even when it later got her in trouble.
The High Council would probably have called
her back even if it hadn't been for that business with Randik. They'd been
stripping a number of worlds of their Protectors to build up the force for
Shock and Awe. But violating the Prime Directive, however unintentionally, had
shown a lack of judgment and maturity. She had paid for that. She might have
paid with her life at Klas'ten, if things had gone a bit differently, if Terri
hadn't trained them so well, if.
This time it was going to be different, she
had vowed when she was reassigned to Reigel Five. This time, she was going to do
her job. Period. And she had, right from the get-go. Cheree had stopped the
Aureans when they were but a hairs breadth away from inserting several combat
teams on the planet, and a lot of Reigellians had died in the resulting battle.
It had been a nightmare.
Somehow, they had gotten hold of a
Velorian-model commercial vessel, along with an actual registration and all the
proper system entry codes. The false Ravenstar's captain had looked
authentically Velorian, and was using the identity of an actual captain. If
Cheree hadn't known that particular captain, and had not by chance recognized
the imposture when she saw the Aurean on one of the monitors at Chief Downport.
Shed immediately sounded the alarm, and gone
into action as the enemy commandos swarmed out of the ship, weapons blazing.
Civilians ran for cover, but dozens were cut down in the first seconds -- there
were only so many Betans the Protector could take out at once, there was no way
she could interpose her invulnerable body between them and the hundreds of
innocents exposed to their withering fire. Reigellian security forces responded
to her call, but many of them had also perished as they bravely rushed the
Aureans to draw their fire from the panicked crowd. It took only a few minutes
to get things under control, and to kill the Aureans to the last man. But it had
seemed like an eternity.
Cherees quick thinking had prevented far
worse. That should have been enough. But not for the new ambassador, who had
made it abundantly clear that a more experienced Protector should have been
able to do a better job to put a lid on things and keep the casualties down.
The High Council had told him Cheree was the
best they had available. It was hard to argue with them, given that she was a
veteran of the Battle of Klas'ten despite her tender age. Moreover, she was a
proteg of Major Raul'lan, who had planned that battle and trained the young
Protectors for it even though she'd had her doubts about its wisdom. And Major
Raul'lan was now back here as military attach, also over Vern'danan's objections,
because the Senate was alarmed over the deteriorating security situation on a
world of strategic importance to the Enlightenment.
The disaster at Chief Downport had been an
embarrassment to Velor as well as to Reigel Five. It was especially an embarrassment
to Verndanan to be forced to acquiesce in subjection of Velorian ships to the
same heightened security checks as other vessels entering the Reigellian
system. Neither RIS nor Velorian Intelligence had been able to determine where
the Aureans had obtained the ship, but the consensus was that it must have been
produced by the Empire -- the actual Ravenstar was still in service,
and no other Velorian ships had been reported missing. But as for the entry
codes, it was obvious that there was a leak. Somebody here was in contact with
the Aureans.
As if that weren't bad enough, there were the
Aryans, who thought she should be on their side in the undeclared civil war here.
She had rebuffed the overtures they'd made when she first arrived, reminding
them that the Prime Directive forbade her to intervene in the planet's internal
affairs, as she had learned to her cost. She could have said a lot more --
about her contempt for them and everything they stood for -- but that itself
would have constituted intervention, according to the letter of the Directive.
They'd gotten the message anyway, and
responded with a vengeance. Now they seemed to regard Velorians as the enemy
and, after some confusion, the Velorian Senate had decided that Aryans could be
treated as enemy combatants -- as Aureans "in effect," whatever that
meant. So now she was expected to break the Directive, or at least bend it. Yet
the very fact that she had been approached made her suspect in the eyes of the
Embassy, which she had felt duty-bound to keep informed from the start. Worse,
Cher'ee suspected that the Aryans had moles on the staff there, just as they did in the RIS and who knew where else.
Worst of all, she had to work with President
Bergstrom, who was hanging on by a thread. Perhaps the civil war would have
erupted anyway, but he had made it a certainty with his pre-emptive coup.
Everyone knew that, but nobody wanted to admit it. The official story was still
that the Minister of Justice, himself an Aryan, had been plotting against the
government. It was a lie and she knew it; Spender might have been devious but
he'd known which side his bread had been buttered on. He'd actually been trying
to keep the more radical Aryans in check. But he'd been killed in the siege of
the Ministry, and now he was a martyr -- in whose name racist fanatics waged
guerrilla warfare and forged weapons in secret laboratories and factories.
Cheree pushed those thoughts away and began
to dress, deciding to wear civilian clothes as opposed to her uniform. Like
many Protectors, she felt the uniform drew unnecessary attention to her. And in
the present crisis, it made her an easy target for Aryan smart weapons.
The Smart Sets, their latest missiles, based on smuggled Aurean
designs and prototypes, used advanced image recognition to find Velorians among
the Terrans they lived with, and the uniform made that all too easy. The
missiles always came in quads, with the first being a targeting bird. Once the
target was acquired, the second arrived to dispense a gold-bound adhesive that
coated the victims body. The third bombarded it with accelerated x-rays, and
the fourth arrived with a warhead of extremely high burn-rate explosive
surrounded by pellets of Vendorian steel. The combination, if timed perfectly,
was theoretically lethal to a Velorian.
Fortunately for all of the Velorians on Reigel
Five, but unfortunately for tall, blonde female Terran women, the image analysis
software in the missiles sometimes confused humans with Velorians. As long as
Velorians didnt fly and they kept their heads down, dressing and acting as
human-like as possible, the Smart Set missiles were largely ineffective in sorting
them out of the crowd. The sonar imaging routines in the scout missile couldnt
detect a Velorians denser body until it was very close to its target.
Cheree had proven adept at taking the
missiles out. Shed fly high over the countryside, away from any Reigellian
settlements, and let the missiles target her, only to dodge them at the last
millisecond. Shed agilely survived a dozen such attacks, despite being
splattered with the gold adhesive and weakened by the x-rays and knocked silly
by the explosives. What she worried about was one of them attacking her when
she was walking around inside a city. One quad had in fact targeted another embassy
official while he was making an appearance at a charity benefit in Perthy, and
dozens of bystanders had died in the explosion.
Unfortunately, despite all the missiles shed
destroyed, Cheree knew the Aryans had more, just waiting for the right time to
launch. But nobody knew where they were, or where they were launched from. They
were too stealthy to be picked up by Reigellian radar, and could remain
airborne for days, circling over a large area waiting for a target to appear.
Their AI was smart enough to keep track of buildings with known Velorians
inside, poised for a supersonic sprint toward the doorway that she exited. And
the Velorian embassy was the top of their target list for obvious reasons.
Major Raul'lan had ordered many of the diplomatic
functions relocated out of the embassy building itself, and she constantly
moved the offices around, trying to keep near misses from injuring any more
Reigellians. As a proud measure of defiance, however, she and the ambassador
kept their offices in the main building. Which meant that Cherees meeting
with the ambassador was going to be at ground zero.
Cheree shrugged that worry away as she
quickly braided her hair into a single long ponytail, tucking a few stray
strands behind her ears. She hoped this style would make her look older. She
accented the adult look further by applying some red eye-shadow. Her roommate
back on Velor, Jam'la, had always said, Just because weve been born to
kick ass for a living, it doesnt mean we cant look good doing it.
As P-1s, theyd been
the most prettiest and strongest girls in their class, which meant they carried
that title out into the universe. Jam'la had let it go to her head, but Cheree
merely found it a paradox that served to confuse the men she met. An insanely
desirable but unfuckable uber-goddess, as one frustrated man had described her. She
took exception to the goddess part, but the rest was the burden every Vel
carried when she lived among Terrans.
Unless she took precautions. Opening a small
box on her dresser, she removed a thin, gold necklace. Her fingers tingled
pleasantly just from holding it. Gold was normally the last thing a Protector
wanted to wear, but the ambassador had refused to meet with any P-class unless
her strength was dampened. This necklace wasnt very pure gold, so the effect
was minimal when she fastened it behind her neck. No more than a pleasant
tingling that teased her intimate spots, and a misplaced sense of well being as
her inhibitions faded. Still, it bothered her that the ambassador insisted on
the gold. As a B-male, he had a thing about wanting to be the strongest person
in the room, and being the ambassador meant he could get away with being an
asshole about it.
Sighing, she stared back at herself in the
mirror, and finished up by applying a little more lip gloss. Her only
consolation was the realization that the gold bothered the Major even more than
herself. Shed likely be there as well. The security officer was always fuming
when she came out of the ambassadors office, pausing only long enough in the
outer office to tear the gold chain off and throw it into the trash. Expensive
visits they were.
Cheree let her thoughts drift forward to the
likely subject of the ambassadors meeting. A cruise ship had gone down just
off the coast, perhaps the result of terrorists. He might want her to root them
out. Aryan separatists most likely. They were not beyond killing ordinary
Reigellians to promote their cause.
She was lost in that thought as she peddled
through the traffic on her bike at three times the speed a car could. She left
her bike beneath the embassy and took the lift tunnel to the 20th
floor. The tunnel was a meter-wide clear plastic tube that extended from
ceiling to basement, the upper end emerging in the ambassadors suite. It was
hard to fly with the gold, but she managed to float up the tube, emerging to
settle to the floor in his outer office.
Verndanans private secretary, Felica, was as
rude as always. She was a M-class who acted as if she ran the embassy. She
didnt like Cheree because her boss didnt like Cheree. Felica wasnt the
kind to ask questions or think for herself. She motioned Cher'ee toward a
chair. Youre late. Have a seat. Hell see you when he can.
My business with him is urgent. And he called
me, remember?
Nevertheless, you cant expect me to
interrupt him every time someone steps into my office. When he needs to talk to
you, hell let me know.
What about my being late? Isnt he waiting?
I cant help it if youre unable to maintain
a schedule, Felica said, her nose in the air. I obviously can. I scheduled
someone else in your place.
Cheree gave Felica a foul look and turned to
sit in one of the chairs. Follow the rules. Defer to authority, she whispered under
her breath. It was the mantra of all Protectors, but unfortunately, patience
was not one of Cherees birth virtues. She focused her attention instead on
scanning the ambassadors office, although it was hard to see through the door
while wearing the cheap gold. She saw enough to discover that the door was
steel reinforced, Vendorian by the look of it. Still, she suspected she could
kick her way through it, even with the gold on. She knew that taking out her
frustration that way would only make things worse, but it was all too tempting.
The intercom on the secretarys desk toned a
moment later to save her. Is that girl here yet?
Felica looked across the desk, her eyes boring
into Cherees. If you mean our fearless Protector, then yes, she is.
Well, send her in. And then isolate this
office, Felica. State business.
Felica tilted her head toward the inner
office, and then looked back down and busied herself with her work, knowing
Cheree had overheard.
Cheree rose to walk briskly across the office
and through the inner door, glad to leave the frostiness of the outer office
behind.
Unfortunately, she quickly found that shed
landed in the arctic.
Did you see the news? Molly asked Harry as
she arrived home, shrugging off her calf-length brown leather coat to toss it
on the couch. Anya and I are listed among the casualties, along with you.
Harry nodded as he sat down and began typing
some commands into his PersComp. So Im a little deader than Ive been
lately.
As a dead man, he couldnt be seen at his home
office. But Molly had retrieved his PersComp, and a few other necessaries, in
the dead of night. If anybody noticed them missing, it would be put down to
burglary: shed jimmied the door before leaving; that wasnt the
way shed entered, obviously. It was reasonably safe at Molly and Anyas place
– they didnt have any friends, and the neighbors didnt know who they
were: some Butch couple, they probably figured.
Molly didnt comment. Shed heard his lament before
about the perils of forced retirement.
His PersComp chimed and a flood of data began
to scroll across his screen. He looked up to grin at Molly a few minutes later.
Gotcha. I found a way into RISs backup server. He bent back down and started
to read. His grin quickly began to fade, turning into a frown.
Let me guess, its worse than you expected?
Why dont you find Anya and make something to
eat. I need a little while to digest this.
Molly nodded, and then slipped out the door.
Harry never raised his eyes from the screen.
He was slumped in his chair rubbing his eyes
when Molly returned an hour later. She set a sandwich and a beer in front of
him.
This is unbelievable, Molly. RIS thinks the
Aryans are poised for a huge surge of terrorist acts. Theyre going to try to
force the government into granting them separatist status.
She stood behind him and began gently
massaging his tense shoulders. But they wont. Right?
Harry shook his head, too stunned by what hed
read to react to her touch. And in that case, RIS expects a full-scale civil
war. Biological agents, nuclear, the whole bit. Apparently the Aureans have been
slipping them military technology for some time.
Strange bedfellows.
Yeah, theyre supposed to worship the Vels.
Only now they hate them for siding with the government. Or do they? Go figure.
So why doesnt RIS take them down before it
happens? Molly asked.
Too late. Assets are in place. Security is
too tight. Plus, all the RIS agents in Southy have disappeared. Rumors have
surfaced about Diaboli working with Aryans, picking through peoples minds,
finding the moles. RIS doesnt put high probability on that, the Diaboli and
Aryans have been bitter enemies in the past, but they cant rule it out.
So whats our plan? Molly breathed as she
walked around the chair Harry was using to sit facing him. Her tight leather
slacks revealed every curve of her trim hips and thighs, not to mention her
insanely shapely backside. A sliver of bared midriff looked sculpted and tight.
Harry took a deep breath as Molly crossed her
long legs and looked back at him with her blue eyes so bright. Despite the
horror of what hed read, or maybe because of it, he felt his thoughts
drifting, recalling the last day. Molly and her sister had been letting him use
the couch in their apartment since that first night. Harry wondered what his
friends or family would think of him batching with two Vels.
Strangely, other than being cautious of her
fantastic strength, he didnt feel nervous around Molly. Aroused, of course,
but not nervous. That was unusual, because beautiful women had always made him
feel insecure. He carried this hidden fear that if he did strike it up with
such a woman, and he got lucky, that he might not be able to follow through in
bed. At least not the way he imagined the more experienced and accomplished men
who usually dated such rare women did. He knew it was a silly fear, Tamra
had never had any complaints about him on that score, and hed always felt perfectly adequate with
her, but hed never been able to dispel that insecurity around beautiful women.
But there had only been one woman in his life, and she was gone now.
He suspected that his confidence strangely
came from his realization of the vast inequity in her strength. It was clearly
hopeless for a Terran man to impress a Velorian with any prowess -- save his
mind. And that was where his pride lay in any case. Despite his profession as a
field agent for RIS, hed always been a reader and a thinker, his IQ at the
high end of human ability. Hed been inducted into the Bright society years
ago. Also, like the other men in his profession, he was very quick on his feet.
Just like the premier warriors of the galaxy. The Velorians.
It was different with Anya. She definitely made him nervous, as much from the shock of their first meeting as her age. Anya had made it all the worse by joining him in the shower that morning, scrubbing his back, acting as if there was nothing unusual about sharing a shower. Fortunately, she pretended not to notice his extreme reaction as he hastily rinsed off and stepped out to towel dry.
Lead me not into temptation, he told himself.
It took him half an hour to relax enough to
get dressed, and even now, he couldnt get the image of Anyas perfect body
from his mind. She was even younger than his estranged daughter, Alice, and
that somehow it all more difficult to deal with.
Hed mentioned Anya's frankness to Molly, and
shed thought it was funny that nudity bothered him that much. Even stranger,
that he was worried about his reactions around Anya. She was hardly an
innocent, Molly had said. He was sharing a house with two Velorians, so what
did he expect? Dresses down to their ankles and head scarves?
He blinked his eyes to push those strange
thoughts away, and was going to say something about wearing at least some
clothing, but thought better of it. Velorians had different culture norms,
thats all there was to it. Instead of worrying about that, he tried instead to
focus on the plan hed worked out.
I see only one plan. We have to take
advantage of their one weakness, Molly. They believe that their Norse gods are
still alive.
Molly twirled a strand of blonde hair around
her finger as she listened. Ive never been into religion. Theirs or our own.
Hows that going to help us?
Its simple enough. You two have to validate
all their religious and racial beliefs. You have to become living goddesses.
Right, Molly laughed. And pray tell, how do
a couple of lounge singers do that?
Harry rose to pace back and forth across the
thick Andromedan rug. We know that no Velorian has ever entered their
Stronghold, nor have your people acknowledged any aspect of Aryan society. You
treat them like pariahs.
Well, yeah, because theyre filthy racists.
Theyre everything we try not to be.
Unfortunately, Molly, that hasnt dissuaded them from
thinking you guys are the living offspring of their gods. They spend a lot of
time watching your comings and goings, and they are reputed to have collected
everything ever published about Supremis and Galen culture. They worship you
from afar.
And thats why theyre trying to kill us with
those smart missiles?
Has any Velorian died? Or even been seriously
injured?
Molly shook her head. Not that Ive heard.
But lots of Terrans have died in the attacks.
Which further proves their point about you
being irresistible goddesses. Invulnerable. Theyre just proving that you
really are gods. They probably have their monitors, and have made the attacks
and your survival part of some religious service.
Molly stopped playing with her hair. Youre
serious? They get off on killing innocent Terrans?
No. On your invulnerability. Im sure the
rest are considered collateral losses in their minds. If you arent Aryan, or
Supremis obviously, then youre a lower life form. Which means exploitable and
expendable.
Skietra! Theyre worse than I thought. Like
Nazis on Earth or the Brotherhood on Aklan's World.
Trust me, Molly, given their weapons, they
could be worse than either. But we have a chance to swing this all in our
favor.
So, I swagger in, spouting Norse ballads and
writing in runes or whatever?
Perhaps. What is clear is that youll have to
play the role up, maybe cast a lot of pheromones around to confuse them. Do it
right, and itll go down hook, line and sinker.
Isnt this a lot to ask of Anya? Shes barely
seventeen. Ive been trying to teach her humility.
I dont want this to come out the wrong way,
but shes Velorian.
Mollys eyes narrowed. Which means exactly
what?
Harry took a deep breath before answering. It
means shes not going to violate any of your cultural or societal norms in
playing the role. Shell just have to act out all that pride and arrogance you
guys usually try to hide. To be the goddess theyll imagine she is.
Youre confusing us with those haughty
Protectors. Anya and I are on the bottom of the pecking order, not the top. We
dont think that way.
Harry shrugged. Hard steel or soft steel,
its still steel to a Terran. How much do you know about the satr religion?
Just what they taught us in history. Some
kind of pre-Christian pagan religion, bizarre sexual practices as part of
rituals, worshipping a hundred gods and goddesses. Most of it I didnt pay
attention to, but I remember enough to be worried for Anya. I can guess where
this is all leading and I dont like it one bit.
Its not a bad religion if people practice it
the way the Norse worshipped. But the Aryans have corrupted satr. Theyd
transformed it into a racial mantra that excludes all others.
And were supposed to feed that monster by
making it real for them? Molly asked, aghast.
They want so much to believe, Molly. You just
have to convince them that you are different than other Velorians. That you
believe just as they do. That you truly are divine. That all Velorians are,
that you can convince others to join with them. To create a new Valhalla, right
here on Reigel Five.
But wont they figure out that were clueless
about their religion?
Not after I put you guys through a crash
course in Norse mythology, especially the Aryan twists. Well play you off as a
couple of Disir goddesses. Valkyries in particular. Honest to God, they really
believe in that stuff. They think Velor is just another name for Valhalla.
Molly said nothing for a long moment. So once
we have their confidence, we dig out who the leaders are, and then do what?
Kill them, of course.
You make that sound so easy.
It is for you.
Mollys eyes blazed, sending a wave of heat
washing across Harrys face. No it fucking isnt, Harry. I was raised to value
life. And thats how Ive been trying to raise Anya.
Youll save innocent lives.
Molly sighed and hung her head. It all sounds
so damn noble, simple even, except for one thing, Harry. Given our abilities,
why wouldnt they put us to work as their ultimate terrorists?
That could be a problem, Harry replied, cursing silently.
Damn. He hadnt thought that far ahead. But youre right, of course, they will
undoubtedly want both of you to commit some act, perhaps to hit a target they
cant get close to, just to prove you have the heart and the dedication to the
cause. That you are loyal to their cause.
Oh, great. Thats just the way to raise a
responsible Velorian girl, Molly said sarcastically. Send her on a killing
spree.
They wont see it like that. A goddess can
both grant and take lives in their religion. They believe you are above the
law.
I wasnt talking about the Aryans. How about
everyone else?
Harry leaned forward, lowering his voice, his face
grim, eyes intense. Were talking about potentially saving hundreds of
thousands of lives, Molly. The Aryans arent going to stop until they are
allowed to form their own government and conduct their affairs in Southy
without Federal interference. There is no way that President Bergstrom or the
Parliament is going to let them do that. It will come to war if we dont stop
it.
So we sacrifice a few for the common good?
Yes. Once things get this far gone, it
becomes a numbers game. Smaller numbers mean better decisions.
So the Aryans will act as if weve been born
with a license to kill, she said sourly. And now youre suggesting that some
Terran casualties at our hands might be a good investment to avoid a war?
Thats total bullshit, Harry.
Hey, just be glad you arent me. Ill be your
first target if they figure out Im alive.
Molly gave him a shocked look as she floated
weightlessly from her chair. Harry found himself staring down those long,
slender legs, wrapped so tightly in soft leather. He discovered that her bare
feet were hovering inches off the floor. He forced his eyes back up to hers.
Some people will have to die at your hands, Molly. Youll need to be bloodied
before theyll let you anywhere near their leaders.
Then you can fucking forget it, Molly
shouted. Find another way.
There isnt, Harry said with a sad shake of
his head. Only you and Anya can stop the war now.
If anyone can, he thought to himself. And then it struck him: in resisting one temptation, he was yielding to another. One even less honorable.
He fell a chill in the air, and a greater chill in his heart. Molly had saved his life, and here he was using her. Using Anya. Asking them to be as callous as himself, in the name of a mission they would have never chosen on their own. "The end justifies the means." That was the rule in the RIS. That was the rule in war. But he couldn't guarantee a good end to this. There might be nothing ahead but death and destruction. What had gone before might be only the overture to what was to come.
He looked at Molly now, knowing that he had to convince her, that she had to convince Anya. He hated himself for it, hated himself for wanting to make love with her, even with Anya. It didn't matter that he couldn't help himself; no ordinary man could, such was the beauty of the Velorians. Yet, to desire them and then seduce them into betraying their own ideals -- to make them something less than Velorian....
It might prove futile in any case. The thought gnawed at him.
I may be damning them in a world that is already damned. Perhaps I've already damned myself.
But he went ahead anyway. He convinced Molly. That was his job. That was his doom.
Harry prayed it would not be theirs.
The first thing Cheree saw when she entered
the ambassadors office was Major Terri Raullan sitting behind the conference
table, dressed in an outfit made of shiny metal foil. It clung to her upper
body like a second skin, then flared over her athletic hips to form a tiny
skirt that revealed all of her long, bare legs. With her blonde hair hanging to
her waist, a dark golden tan and her blazing blue eyes, she looked like
something out of a Nordic fantasy.
A young man in the uniform of the Velorian
Security Service sat beside her. James KimVallara she recalled. Hed been
involved in some messiness during her first visit to Reigel Five. His sister was
the P-1 whod run away from her Rites. It was an open secret that she'd fetched
up on Kelsor 7, but that was a taboo subject -- especially in present company.
Another taboo subject was their mother Naomi,
whose recall order had arrived shortly after that horrible business with Randik
and the hostages on Lanar. She'd been expecting to lose her post anyway, after
the coup and her falling out with Bergstrom. Despite his Diaboli genes, the President
had been too blind to realize that he wasn't going to get her back. But when
his nephew Kurt had died with the other hostages, he had turned on her
savagely, and taken a grim satisfaction in her disgrace. As for Vern'danan, he
was all too eager to blame his predecessor for everything that had gone wrong
here.
James and Terri looked up at her now with
narrowed eyes. Cheree saw the golden choker that the Major wore; she was a P-3,
and a thin chain hung around James neck. He was a B she recalled, same as Verndanan. Probably his
secretary exceeding her authority.
Cheree was about to smile sympathetically at
the two of them when Verndanan rose from behind his glass desk to float across
the floor, making sure everyone saw that he was the only one in the room who
could comfortably levitate.
Weve got a problem. The Sylvan, that Aryan terrorist
group, sank a cruise liner. Overall casualties are light, although we lost a
bunch of active and retired RIS agents. Seems they were targeted.
A warning to President Bergstrom, Major
Raullan opined. Pull the leash back on RIS, or the Aryans will take them
out.
The Velorian military attach, like the
ambassador, pronounced it with two syllables and with a hard A -- Ahr'yans --
never mind that the accurate pronunciation was identical to that for Velor's
ancient enemies.
How do we help the Reigellians? Verndanan
asked
Cant see that we can, the Major replied
again. The Aryans have pretty good scanners. If I get anywhere near them, they
start shooting. As you know, theyve got some weapons that are marginally
Supremis capable. At the worst, it gives them time to duck into those damned
tunnels.
Verndanan sat down at the head of the table,
leaving Cheree sitting alone on the opposite side from James and the Major.
Verndanan turned to her. So, Cheree, your job is to protect Terrans. What
are you doing about that?
She turned to look at him, frowning. What do
you expect, Mr. Ambassador? Until recently this was classified as a civil
affair. Two groups of Terrans opposing each other. Prime Directive applied.
That was before we knew they had Aurean
weapons, he shot back, as if this were news to her.
Im dealing with that, Ambassador, Cheree
said. But its kind of like closing the barn door after the horse is stolen.
Theyve got the templates, they can produce them in any numbers they want.
So how do we get rid of them? James asked.
If I find a cache of them, Cheree shrugged,
then Ill destroy them. But the Aryans are very clever at hiding them. Thanks
to whoever built the Deep Keeps.
Sounds like you should have been doing your
damn job before they got on the ground, Verndanan said coldly.
I wasnt here, Mr. Ambassador. And you damn
well know why.
So were fucking stuck with it now, is that
it? Verndanan said angrily.
As I said, Mr. Ambassador, Cheree tried
again, this was a civil matter until Velor chose to declare it otherwise. If
I'd been here before, I could have done nothing. Now you want me to do
everything?
Vern'danan slammed his fist on the table. The
table and floor shook. People, if we dont find a way to stop this, we wont
need an embassy here. The RIS people claim the Aryans have tac-nukes, some
biologicals, not to mention those damn quad rockets that target us.
And Bergstroms people have the same
weapons, James said. Mutual Assured Destruction.
Only if Bergstrom doesnt let them secede and
form their own nation, the Major added. Hes too pig-headed to take the easy
way out. And too cowardly to just go for it and make a first strike.
Typical thinking for the military,
Verndanan frowned at her. Kick ass or capitulate. Black and white.
When things get to this stage, yes, thats
what it comes down to. The Majors voice remained crisp and controlled, devoid
of the emotions that were coloring Verndanans words.
What you fail to understand, Major, is that
most of the farming is down in Southy. Plus the Diaboli have claims on those
areas as well. Bergstrom has ties with them. He cant give up Southy.
So where does that leave us then? James
asked.
Verndanan stood up to emphasize his next
words. I want you to find those damned weapons, Cheree. I dont care if you
break a few rules doing it. And James, you work with RIS. Find out what kind of
assets they still have down there. Try to find a way to open up discussions
with the Aryan leadership. Ill talk to them personally.
The Senate has forbidden us to have any
contact," James reminded him. "The racial issue is too explosive.
Im not going to stand here and watch this
planet die, James. Just do it.
You cant order—
But I can, the Major broke
in.
Yes, maam.
Vern'danan turned to Raullan. And you,
Major, you are going to put a shield around this planet that a Singleton
couldnt get through. That and make sure our local employees have proper
protection if this thing goes badly.
That's yesterday's battle. Weve already done
all we can to shield the system. And that Ravenstar trick wont work
again.
"Our commercial shipping interests are
going to be pissed."
Let them be pissed. We've got the Aryans
isolated; if we can find a way to strip them of their weapons, they'll no
longer be a threat.
And'rea Cuppers luxuriated in the bed of
Defense Minister Sayid Nazillah. Playing a double game was so exciting!
Penetration was the name of the game. She had
penetrated the ranks of the Aryan underground and now she had penetrated the
Reigellian cabinet. Nazillah had penetrated her body with relish, and told her
with equal relish about the new weapons President Bergstrom had approved --
robot weapons that could penetrate the hiding places of the rebels, even the
Deep Keeps, to destroy everyone and everything they found.
Menschenjagers, Bergstrom called them.
Manhunters, in the old Terran language once used by those who had also called
themselves Aryans, who believed in the same things as their namesakes here. It
was a fitting irony, an irony almost as delicious as the alliance between
Aureans and Aryans to bring down a government supported by the very pale gods
and goddesses the Aryans professed to worship. That hadn't kept rebel leaders
from fucking her, any more than Nazillah's Jellutong faith had kept him from
doing the same.
Jellutong were supposed to do it in the dark;
they weren't supposed to look at naked bodies, even their wives'. Not that
Nazillah's wife could be much to look at; her religious habit could hardly
conceal the fact that she was stout as well as middle-aged. These frails aged
so quickly.
That reminded her of her other mission in the
capital: to nudge Nazillah into denouncing the Aryans. There was nothing
more certain to make a man preach morality in public than to make him violate
it in private. He was like all the others; he longed to fuck a Vel. But not to worship her, not to make
love to her, just to pound her into the bed, to subdue her with his cock -- as
if a supremis could be subdued. She knew this because he talked about it as he
fucked her savagely. She indulged him in this, screaming as if in pain, as if
fucking could hurt her body. She might be only a Betan, but she was pretty
tough. But not too tough, she could relax enough for him to get into her and feel
her tightness without hurting him. He must know about Betans, but the fool
didn't suspect she was anything more than an ordinary Reigellian with good
genetics who worked out a lot.
Tofflans doing his utmost to impede a
decision, Sayid had complained last night.
Axel Tofflan was of Aryan background but, like
the late C.G.B. Spender, wanted nothing to do with their hateful movement. As
Minister of Education, he had promoted a public school curriculum that
emphasized tolerance and diversity. Most of the Aryans had responded by
starting private schools, and now the Jellutong threatened to do the same.
Tofflan was resisting the trend towards religious education as best he could,
but that wasnt the impediment Sayid was referring to.
The idolators are sinking ships, and still he
opposes deployment of the menschenjagers.
Idolators were what he called the Aryans, for
worshipping something less than divine -- at least the Christla acknowledged
only one god. As far as he was concerned, Tofflan was only trying to protect his
own.
He hadnt always thought so. He hadnt always
called them Idolaters. Hed learned a lot in the past couple of years, and
Andrea had accelerated his education.
What business does he have getting involved
in this at all? Andrea egged him. This is strictly a military matter.
Still, the cabinet must take a vote.
Sayid had glanced at the wall hangings that
featured abstract designs and passages from scripture. He was defender of the
Faith, defender of the Right.
He had glanced back at Andrea, her perfect
breasts aimed at him like missile nose cones.
Shed known what he was thinking: the
Righteous are entitled to their indulgences.
Andrea smiled at the memory. She had him by
the balls and he didnt even know it.
Soon shed have the whole planet by the balls,
and then shed castrate it. Let it castrate itself. Thered be no resistance
when the Empire arrived in force. This novice Protector would be no match for a
single Prime, let alone a team of Primes.
It had been the same in Southy. She'd had an
ID there that was as impeccable as the one she bore here, but still they'd
wanted her to prove herself. That wasn't hard: kill a few loyalist troops
they'd been holding in one of the Keeps -- she'd have gladly killed a lot more
if the Aryans hadn't killed them already. Promise to set off a few car bombs in the capital, which she'd
done -- choosing a bank, a school and two bus stops, and timing the explosions
to produce a maximum of casualties.
She'd had a regional commander eating out of
her hand as well as eating her pussy. He seemed amazed at the size of her clit,
but also delighted. Maybe he had homosexual tendencies and didn't know it.
Kommandant Null was certainly a zero when it came to straight sex; he came too
fast and then couldn't get it up again. But she faked her orgasms, knowing that
she could get real ones from her hands later if he didn't put his tongue to
work on any particular occasion.
Kommandant Null was chief engineer behind the
Smart Set missiles that had the Protector worried. But he was also developing a
stealth missile called Mjolnir to deliver thermonuclear warheads and dirty
bombs to Senegal and other major population centers of the North. She had egged
him on, pretending to be aroused by his prowess as a weapons maker. The lands
of the non-Aryans would be rendered uninhabitable for hundreds, even thousands
of years. He had no idea, of course, that the menschenjagers would render the
Keeps uninhabitable. The fools and fanatics of both sides would sow the wind
and reap the whirlwind.
Andrea Cuppers would reap her own reward that
day, having accomplished what even Ulexa Gabborn, the Prime first assigned
here, had failed to do. She would no longer be a lowly sergeant. A colonel,
maybe even a general. At the very least, she would bed imperial generals
– not the pathetic creatures she had seduced here.
Ruy Cyam-Bellis was already a colonel, and chief of the Advisory Team assigned to Central Government forces in Southy. Major Raul'lan had given him a job to do, and he was trying to do it. But he wasn't getting too much cooperation from Reigel's Southern Command.
Body armor, armored vehicles, smart weapons and other materiel were in short supply. Yet there were these huge trucks -- so huge they ran on mammoth tracks instead of wheels lumbering down the main road. Whatever they were carrying was hidden beneath equally mammoth shrouds. They were interfering with ordinary convoys, and even his own staff car had to detour over rough ground to get to the encampment of the regiment he was working with.
He could have flown, of course. But that would have been bad form: Velorians weren't supposed to advertise their involvement in the local -- the term "civil" was avoided -- conflict. It would only aggravate the Aryan population, he'd been told. And he didn't want to leave his driver in the lurch; that too would be bad form.
"What the hell are those things?" Ruy asked General William Voigt's aide-de-camp when he arrived at Field HQ in Node 69. The general himself didn't seem to be available.
"Just a little surprise for our Aryan adversaries," the aide told him. "Nothing you need to worry about."
"Voigt seems to have a serious attitude problem," Ruy later complained to Raul'lan by com.
"Don't rock the boat," she advised. "We're working for the Reigellians, not the Reigellians for us. Try to keep that in mind."
So he kept it in mind, begged or borrowed whatever equipment he needed as a bare minimum. After all, officers in the field were supposed to improvise.
There wasn't any front out here, just hit-and-run attacks on supply lines -- and confrontations with Aryan civilians in the nodes where greenhouses met. Without the greenhouses, Southy would have been uninhabitable. They stretched for dozens of kloms in every direction the terrain would allow, often connecting with other nodes at the far ends in an elaborate network that stretched across the continent. They fed the nodes, and they also fed the North -- which would otherwise have to survive mostly on fish and plankton.
The greenhouses fed the Aryan resistance as well, fed the Keeps that were still far too dangerous to attack. President Bergstrom wanted to deny food to the resistance, but just how the military was to accomplish this remained unclear. Ruy and the others were soon to find out.
***
And'rea Cuppers luxuriated in the memory of rubbing a gleaming hemisphere of plutonium against her pussy in one of the secret sections of one of the secret laboratories of Baldur Keep, savoring the feel and the power of the deadly metal. Kommandant Null hadn't known about it, and would have been shocked to learn of her audacity -- still more shocked to have learned her true nature and origin.
The laboratory where the device was being assembled was off limits to all but Aryan technicians, but security was in fact light, for nobody could imagine an enemy penetrating the Keeps, let alone reaching the R&D complex where the Smart Sets and other weapons had been or were being developed. She had managed to learn the entry codes and bypass the alarms. Even the technicians had never touched the fissionable metal, but she had wanted to touch it, to feel it, to imagine what it would be like when one hemisphere was slammed into its mate, when its nuclear fire was released.
She herself could never survive such a blast, although it was said that Velorians could. And'rea felt a twinge of jealousy at that. But jealousy had soon yielded to bitter satisfaction: the knowledge that it would help destroy Velorian power, on this planet and elsewhere -- destroy the illusion that Velor could protect the frail worlds of its so-called Enlightenment.
She had imagined the shock the enemy would feel when the bomb was set off in the very center of Senegal, destroying the Velorian embassy along with the government buildings. How could their ambassador and their Protector face the people of Reigel Five when it was proven they were helpless to defend the Reigellians? She already had her Aryan lover half convinced to use the weapon now in a surprise attack, rather than wait for fruition of the Mjolnir cruise missile project. She imagined Nazillah vaporized or burned alive, without warning.
But as she had thought of Nazillah, another thought came to her. Oh, it was so delicious. And it would tip him all the way, for all his supposed devotion to Tuhan, the beneficent god of the Jellutong. It would tip Bergstrom's regime all the way -- all the way to apocalypse. If only Kommandant Null knew what Bergstrom and Nazillah had in store for the Aryans. But he didn't, and he wouldn't -- not until they turned the Keeps into infernos.
Before that, thousands and thousands would die in the capital. The thought made her squirm with delight. She had manned the waldo, put the plutonium back in its place, erased all traces of her visit. Then she had headed for the quarters of her Aryan lover, whispered in his ear after faking her orgasm, to push him over the edge. And she had! The bomb had been assembled, and sent on its way by trained agents over a circuitous route. It would take a week or two to put it in place.
She could hardly wait.
***
Things came to a head at Node 69 about the same time, but it wasn't the doing of Voigt, or even Bergstrom. It was Charlene Ohrenschall, the Minister of Agriculture, who set it all off.
Ohrenschall had ordered local agents of the Ministry to take custody of food warehouses at the nodes -- those controlled by the central government at any rate -- and implement an allocation system that would supposedly ensure a fair share of their stores for Southy and the North alike. But the Aryan resistance spread rumors that the actual plan was to confiscate the entire stocks -- which may indeed have been a contingency plan.
An angry crowds gathered at the Node 69 warehouse, preventing any entry by agents of the Ministry. When Ohrenschall appealed to Bergstrom, he advised Voigt to do whatever might be necessary to ensure continued food shipments to the North. Voigt, in turn, called on Company C of the Fifth Infantry, which happened to be stationed just outside the node, to "take care of the matter."
The first Ruy heard about it was when the sound of gunfire erupted in the node. It must be an Aryan attack, he thought. And he knew the rules of engagement in such a contingency: Do not walk, do not run, fly.
Only when he reached the scene, what he found were the troops of Company C firing wildly into a crowd of demonstrators. Ruy scanned the crowd with his tachyon vision: none of the Aryans were armed. By now they were dropping like flies as they tried to flee.
Just then, Lt. Or'than B'Te, advisor to the Reigellian unit, winged in -- sizing up the situation on the fly. Spotting his commanding officer, B'Te sought guidance. Ruy seemed distracted for the moment, so he repeated his plea.
"Colonel, sir, what are your orders?"
Rather than answering the lieutenant immediately, Ruy shouted at the Reigellian captain, one Eric Everhard: "Cease fire! Cease fire!"
Everhard ignored him, as was his right: nobody had given the Velorians command position here, but Ruy had hoped to bluff his way through. When he saw that wasn't working, he turned to B'Te.
"We've got to stop this. That's an order. Follow me."
They flew into the field of fire, taking as much as they could of the hail of lead from automatic weapons. They saved a few Aryans that way, but only a few -- they couldn't possibly intercept more than a fraction of the steel-jacketed bullets that were taking a shocking toll, especially when many of the demonstrators found their escape path blocked by an incoming pallet train bearing fresh-frozen vegetables from Greenhouse 69SSW. Worse, some of the ricochets hit Reigellian troops. Their wounds were only superficial, but the consequences weren't.
When Major Raul'lan got word, she chewed them out royally and ordered them transferred to another sector.
"You're lucky I'm not having you court-martialed," she thundered over the com, sounding as if she were right next to them. "It's just that we're stretched thin here. and I can't waste time sending you back to Velor and waiting for replacements."
The official death toll at Node 69 stood at 133, and more than twice that number had been wounded. Many of these later died in the overtaxed medical facilities, but were never included in that official count. Within days, there were riots and uprisings at other nodes -- armed this time -- and casualties quickly mounted into the thousands.
General orders were to shoot them all and let God sort them out. The shooting spread from the nodes to the greenhouses, and government troops were forced into a holding action, establishing a perimeter that included Node 72, a hundred kloms outward from Node 69, and the other nodes between there and the coast. Beyond Node 72...
Now there was a front line.
One of the neighbors
had noticed Harry.
Hes my uncle Larry,
Molly had improvised. Lost his job in town. You know how it is.
The neighbor indeed
knew how it was. The Reigellian economy was in a tailspin. Satisfied with
Mollys explanation, he ignored Harry thereafter. He later ignored the comings and goings of "Larry," along with those of Molly and Anya. If anybody had asked him,
he'd have guessed they were just off looking for work.
Harry was indeed off
looking for work, but that work involved gathering intelligence. Since he
couldn't approach the RIS and didn't trust whomever might still be working
there, he instead sent out a feeler to a nephew with the civil police in
Senegal, a man named Vance Calloway, hoping that blood indeed ran thicker than
water. His luck was with him.
"I attended your
memorial service," Vance told him when they met at a small restaurant in
the capital. "They didn't think I'd known you were with the RIS. Thought
they were doing me a big favor by letting it out, letting me know you'd died a
hero."
"Getting killed
doesn't make anybody a hero. If I'd gone down with that ship, I'd be just a
dead man. A man who died without getting his job done."
"How did you."
"I wasn't with
the others. Simple as that. Whoever set the bombs knew who we were and where we
were. Which means that somebody at HQ told them. Which means, as I said before,
I'm not going anywhere near HQ."
"You don't
suppose it was another -- Justice ministry thing?"
Vance lowered his
voice to a whisper at the mention of the pre-emptive coup.
"Wouldn't make
sense. There's no percentage in it for him. No, this has to be about a mole.
"A mole from the
Deep Keeps."
"This is going to
be hard, but weve got to start somewhere. Any contacts you have in the
government. Maybe background checks of RIS people -- I can give you their
names, you can run them through public records: births, marriages, previous
employment. Then check out anybody they turn out to be associated with. Scan
work permits for new people in town, then cross-check them with records from
where they say they came from."
"This is going to
take time. What do I say if somebody notices?"
"Do it from home.
You've got clearance there. Actually, that's the best place for me to be, too.
I could help if you let me have your codes."
"You realize what
you're asking?"
"And I wouldn't
be asking, if it weren't absolutely necessary.
It couldn't be done
overnight. Harry and Vance couldn't make their search too conspicuous, lest
they arouse the suspicions of the internal security programs that guarded
government databases. They had to make their inquiries seem like a matter of
routine, and disguise their source so that they would appear to come from one
or another government agency or private employer -- and not have anything to do
with what they were actually looking for.
While they pursued the
electronic trail, Molly and Anya were busy taking a quick course in Aryan
history, language and religion. They wouldn't be expected to know every detail,
Harry had said, but they had to know enough to make a good impression -- and
react in the expected manner. They might be asked to prove themselves by some
act of murder or mayhem before they were allowed to meet with the rebel
leadership. That would be a touchy situation, to say the least.
***
It was three weeks
before they headed out on their mission to the Aryans. They flew by night, at
nearly ground level over the northern provinces and the Great Sound, then at a
klom once they reached Southy. If the rebels had their scanners out, they'd be
sure to spot them -- and know them for what they were.
They knew they'd
succeeded when they began taking flak.
Not the smart missiles the Aryans had used to target the Protector. The rebels scanners
could tell that there were two of them, and that neither was in uniform. Maybe
Harry was right about the Aryans wanting Velorians to prove themselves. They
were hit with surface-to-air missiles, which exploded harmlessly against them,
and with energy beams, which were no more effective. Tracking the missiles and
beams back to their source, the two wayward Vels found the entrance to a vast
cavern. As they flew into it, the entrance closed behind them.
Nobody knew for
certain who had built the Deep Keeps. Some said the Old Galactics, but nothing
of the kind had been found on other worlds with traces of their presence. They
had been there for eons when the Seeders brought humans to this world. They
were opaque to tachyon vision as well as scanners. Nobody knew the why of that,
either.
The purpose of the
Seeders in bringing together groups harvested from Northern Europe, the Middle
East and Southeast Asia was also elusive. In better times it had been
speculated that Reigel Five had been an experiment to determine whether facing
such a harsh environment would force otherwise hostile peoples to work together.
In those days, the experiment – if such it was – had been hailed as
a success. No more.
Darkness was no
obstacle to Molly and Anya, who flew confidently downward and ahead for kloms.
At length, they emerged from that darkness into a brightly-lit chamber where
hundreds of Aryans awaited them.
Now comes the hard
part,
Molly thought.
The worshippers had
known they were coming; she and Anya could tell that as they flew into the
chamber. There was a priest, attired in what Harry had described as heathen
regalia, standing on a platform at the center, chanting something in the Doych
adopted by the radical Aryans as a ceremonial language although few of their
ancestors had ever spoken it.
The trouble with
deepteach was that any implanted framework of knowledge had to be triggered by
actual experience. Molly and Anya had been forcefed the Asatru pantheon, the
mythology and the rituals. But these Aryans, whether from ignorance or design,
had departed from the original heathen religion. It took a while for the Velorians
to figure out that they were conflating Walpurgisnacht with Summer Solstice,
and both of those with Ragnarok.
Loki had here become a race traitor, engineering the killing of Baldur on behalf of all the inferior races who assailed the True Race as the Jotnar had assailed the Aesir and the Vanir. Loki, too, had clouded the minds of the Velorians, true descendants of the ancient gods, so that they had forgotten their true mission and shamefully defended the inferior and the unfit. It was the task of the Aryans to awaken them. Could they but be awakened, deliverance was at hand. And now two of them had indeed awakened, for here they were, hovering above them as only true goddesses could.
"Fr Jahrtausende war es den Vgeln vorbehalten durcg die Lfte
"Like, they've
never seen flying blondes in the media before," Molly whispered to Anya as
they hovered over the assembly. But now the priest was chanting something that
didn't even make any sense, as far as they could figure with their hasty
deepteach session on Doych.
"What's this
about walking with fire?" Anya wondered. "Nothing about that in the
rituals we studied.
Suddenly there came a
parting in the crowd, and there was revealed a high dais at the rear of the
great chamber, decorated with elaborate runes and graven images. And behind the
dais, a small chamber evidently excavated with some difficulty into the
obdurate wall of the Keep. There was a system of pipes leading into the
chamber, which, Molly and Anya saw, led a hundred meters further down the
corridor to a pair of storage tanks.
A crematory for the
dead, Molly whispered.
But not for us, Anya
whispered back.
Hergekommen, the priest
bade them. Kommen Sie her und prfen Sie sich, auszurichten die hier
zusammengebauten Vlker.
Without hesitation,
without fear, the Velorians flew into the lesser chamber and turned to face the
priest and the worshippers, who now retreated to the opposite side of the
larger chamber.
At the touch of a
switch by the priest, the lesser chamber became an inferno as streams of oxygen
and hydrogen united and ignited. White-hot flames engulfed the two Velorians,
who stood proudly naked and invulnerable, for their clothes had burned in an
instant. A few moments would have sufficed to reduce a frail to ashes and
perhaps a few bone fragments, but the kind of fire that had once launched rockets
could do them no harm.
Like Shadrach, Meshack
and Abednego in the fiery furnace of the Hebrew Bible, save that here they were
more like the angels who had guarded the Jews. But those angels had been
sexless, as the Velorians were not. And so they played to their nature and
their image. This was a performance, and they knew it, so they writhed
erotically in the fire, thrusting their breasts towards the ceramic nozzles
that fed the flames, even levitating to direct those same flames between their
legs. It was an act, and yet it was real; they reveled in the caresses of the
fire, embraced it as if it were a lover and screamed in ecstasy as they came
again and again.
When the crematory was
finally shut down, the Aryans were in awe, an awe expressed in Old Doych by the
priest.
Nichts! repeated the
worshippers.
But there was more to
come, as the priest explained what these invulnerable goddesses were now
expected to do.
It was a tirade worthy of Hitler or Goebbels, filled with vile words and viler thoughts.
They want us to
kill for them, Molly thought. Harry warned us about that. Only he didnt
have any idea what we should do about it.