Starhold (8 page)

She was alone at a corner table. It suddenly occurred to him that she might be meeting someone, which would be a disaster. Wait, if that were the case, she wouldn’t have bolted from that first place. OK, this was going to be OK. He went to the bar and ordered a draught beer, which would help him stay his nerves. ‘Social lubricant’ was a term he had once heard. Waiting for his drink, he glanced over at her out of the corner of his eye.
I happen to be having a drink and saw you over here by yourself.
That was the play. Wait—she’s got datatabs spread out on the table. Gods, she’s actually working! It figures, this is probably her idea of a fun night out.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

Taylin Adams looked up from her tablet. It was odd seeing her in civvies and just as strange seeing her with jewelry on. She was wearing a gold necklace with matching earrings peeking through her shoulder length brunette hair—not a look ever seen on duty. The red blouse resulted in a fine décolletage, something else never seen on the bridge of the
Tempest
. Regulations could be so cruel.

“Commander,” she acknowledged coolly.

“I just came in for a drink and saw you from the bar. May I join you?” Parker Knox asked in his best innocent voice. Before she could protest—and she was about to—he seated himself. “Just for a few minutes, I promise. I don’t want to interrupt your dinner, or your work.”

“You already have.”

“Taylin, we’re on shore leave! This can wait until you’re back aboard ship,” he said just before taking a mouthful of beer.

Adams took a sip of her Galbanese Chardonnay. “No, it really can’t. This work has to be done before we leave this system, which, if the
Lares
people are right, is in two days. Frankly, I’m not sure why the Captain even granted shore leave. We’re on a very tight schedule.”

“The crew needs to take a break. Gods, we just lost twelve people. You can’t expect everyone to keep that pent up inside them. These people need to cut loose a little.”

She put her datatab down on the table. “Twelve? Did you just say twelve?”

Knox blinked at her and then looked down toward his beer. “I’m sorry, I thought you knew. Petty Officer McGahey died a few hours ago.”

Both officers were silent for a minute, interrupted by the server bringing Adams dinner. Knox quickly killed his beer and asked the server for another.

“Commander, I was really hoping to have some time alone this evening,” Adams said as she started on her pasta salad.

“Really? I was actually hoping we could spend some time together, getting to know each other. I mean just talking, that’s all. Since I transferred to the
Tempest
, I don’t know, it’s like you and I haven’t exactly seen eye to eye. I was hoping to get past that and just talk, you know. Maybe we could get to know each other a little better.” Knox looked at her with pleading eyes.

“And what would you and I ‘just talk’ about, Commander?”

“I don’t know—anything. The Captain,” he blurted out, interrupted by the arrival of his second beer. “What do you think of the Captain?”

“I like him,” Adams said as she continued to eat. “The crew likes him and most importantly, they respect him. I think he’s a good man. He’s a good leader, even if he’s, well, unorthodox.”

Knox scoffed as he sipped the foam off his drink. “Unorthodox, now that’s an interesting choice of words. Don’t get me wrong, I like Captain Pettigrew, I really do. It’s just that his unorthodox style bothers me. He’s reckless. For a moment back there at Uritski, I wasn’t sure we were going to make it. I still think we should have met up with that destroyer.”

Adams stopped eating and glared at Knox.

“There’s that look. You looked at me the same way on the bridge that day, during the battle. What’s with that look?” he asked. She made no move to respond and simply held the glare. “What’s wrong?” he demanded, “Why do you always have an attitude toward me?”

Adams took another sip of her wine. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Sure,” he answered, forcing a smile.

“I don’t like you. I think you’re in over your head. No XO worth his spit would sit here and question his commanding officer in front of another officer. I think at Uritski, you wanted to rendezvous with that destroyer because you’re craven, not because it was good strategy. You may not think Captain Pettigrew is a good CO, but let me tell you something—he’s a hundred times better officer than you can ever hope to be.”

Knox froze for a moment. “Wow! That really was speaking freely.” He tried to laugh off her scathing comments. “I think we’ve just gotten off on the wrong foot here. That’s why we need to talk and get to know each other. All those things you just said, that’s not me, it really isn’t. If you got to know me, you’d understand how wrong you are.” He placed his hand on hers. “Seriously, why don’t you finish your dinner and then we can go someplace and have a few drinks. It’ll do us both a world of good. What do you say?”

She moved her face slightly closer to his. “I say, if you don’t take your hand off me, I’m going to put this fork into your arm, all the way to the bone—sir.”

Knox tried to maintain his genial expression, but it eroded in an instant. He withdrew his hand and closed it around his pilsner glass. “All right, Commander, I’ll leave you to your work.” Standing up and placing his fisted right hand over his left shoulder in a mock salute, he turned and conducted a slow and measured retreat.

That was so predictable, I should have known.
To think that a little space force automaton like Taylin Adams could lighten up and enjoy herself for one evening was hoping for too much. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. If she won’t respond to kindness, then he’d figure out another way to deal with her.

After exiting the restaurant, he stopped on the sidewalk to collect himself. Across the street, two figures came crashing through the front window of a small drinking establishment. The Marine and the spacer, both women, continued fighting as if they hadn’t noticed their own defenestration. Some of the patrons tore themselves away from the football match to come outside and gawk at this contest instead.

The town was alive and the evening was young. If Knox hit a few more places, surely he would run into some nice female crewmember from
Tempest
who would be more than happy to party with the XO. As for Taylin Adams, well she could go straight to hell.

7: Destiny

Earth

Three standard weeks later

The black glidecar and its escorts slid along the streets of Bakkoa. Actually, the car slid
above
the streets—three feet above them. Lord Governor Cheprin had ordered the car to be elevated so that he was raised above the citizenry, but also kept low enough to allow his people to see him. It was a lovely afternoon and the car roof had been retracted. As the Lord Governor rode by on the city streets, the people understood to stop what they were doing, smile at him while taking a slight bow and hold that position until the car was out of sight. Occasionally, he would favor them with his own insincere smile. Seated beside him, Deputy Governor Sheel once lifted a hand to wave at someone he knew, prompting a subtle but firm rebuke from Cheprin. Nobles, even Lessers like Sheel, simply did not wave to the Emperor’s Common Children.

They had presided over the opening of a school building today, the fourth new school since the colony’s founding. Sheel felt it was an exciting occasion because it meant the colony was continuing to grow and prosper. After all, they did have an entire planet to populate. However, the Deputy Governor knew his superior did not share his enthusiasm. Cheprin said all the right things and observed the proper form, but the man was like a cardboard cutout of a leader. The only thing he showed real zest for these days was his liaison with Naar. Understandable, Sheel supposed, she was an attractive young woman.

The glidecar traveled slowly along as they journeyed back to the Government Compound. Sheel found himself gazing not so much at the people, wearing their forced expressions of happiness, but at the city itself.

The colonial fleet had arrived at Earth twelve years ago. For two years, they lived in orbit aboard the ships as the planetary engineers worked their magic to restore the world’s biosphere. Many of the eighty or so vessels in the fleet then landed and disgorged colonists, vehicles, prefabricated living units and factories. The ships themselves were then disassembled and turned into apartment buildings, industrial units, shops, farm silos, and whatever else was needed for survival. Some of the larger ships were dismantled in orbit and brought down piece by piece. The Government Compound itself was constructed from the shell of the colonial flagship. It had been a colossal effort. Sheel was convinced that any people who could do all of that could also conquer this world—and more if they were asked.

Now, the Threshold had been activated. Dr. Acree was undoubtedly one of the greatest scientific minds of his time. The scientist had made good on last month’s promise and the great gateway was now functioning, though at first there had been concern. A message had been sent through the Threshold and no response had returned. No updates from home, no greetings, no acknowledgements, just empty silence from the other side. It was like that for a week and then a message was received from the Homeword. There was jubilation—mostly. Some citizens were content with being on their own, relishing the distance from the heavy hand of the Rhuzari Empire. Sheel appreciated their apprehension about a reunion with Homeworld authority, but he knew Cheprin could never understand their concerns. Now, just an hour ago, word had arrived that a Rhuzari battle group had emerged from the Threshold. The school ceremony was shortened and it was back to the Government Compound.

The car turned off the main street and began the climb up the drive toward the administration complex. Cheprin had said little on the trip, but Sheel could feel his relief. The Lord Governor had worried that the nearby human governments would send war fleets of their own before the Rhuzari reinforcements arrived. Especially troubling was an incident six months ago, when the camouflage network crashed for a few days. An alien mining vessel had stumbled into the Sol system at precisely that time, and it turned out to be an awkward affair. No matter, thought Sheel, it looks like everything is going to work out.

Undoubtedly hoping to be greeted by Naar upon his return to the Compound, Cheprin was visibly disappointed when he found his other aide, Goran, waiting at the front entrance.
Ah yes, Goran,
thought Sheel,
the one who actually does all of the work.

“And welcome back, sirs! I trust all went well at the school dedication!” Goran beamed as the two men entered the building.

“Where is Naar?” Cheprin sourly demanded.

“I believe she is in your suite, sir. She mentioned something about a nap before dinner,” Goran eagerly answered. He was in his mid-thirties—a tall, gangling sort with a high forehead and an oblong face that was perpetually wreathed in smiles. Sheel was positive that most of Naar’s work was actually performed by Administrator Goran.

The Lord Governor stopped just short of his office door. “Perhaps I should look in on her,” he considered aloud. Goran and Sheel traded glances. Goran had a look of befuddlement, while Sheel was amused at the predictability of it all.

“Ah, sir, she did insist that she was not to be disturbed before six o’clock,” put in Goran earnestly.

“My Lord Governor,” offered Sheel, “Fleetmaster Haldryn will be waiting on your communication. Perhaps you should let Madam Naar sleep a while longer and then you can check in on her after you’ve welcomed the fleet.”

Cheprin turned to snap at Sheel, but thought better of it. As the Lord Governor proceeded into his office, Sheel murmured something to Goran, then followed Cheprin in and closed the door.

“Oh, Sheel, are you still here? Well, make yourself useful and pour me a glass of wine, the red. Let’s get this call over with. ‘I welcome him, he acknowledges my authority, blah, blah.’ You know I appreciate form as much as anyone does, but I really do have better things to do with my time. I can meet with him later, when we begin planning the military campaign to conquer this space for our Lord Emperor.” Cheprin had stopped short of his desk and was preening in the wall mirror.

“Yes, my Lord, all very tedious protocol,” Sheel said as he poured the wine.
The single glass…

Cheprin hadn’t moved away from the mirror when his Deputy Governor handed him the drink. “Sheel, get this Fleetmaster Haldryn on the comm so I can get this over with.”

“I’ve instructed Goran to set things up and signal us when the connection is ready.”

Cheprin knocked back the glass in his usual two or three gulps and sat down behind his desk. “You know, now that the first of the fleet reinforcements have arrived, I look forward to unleashing our forces. I think this Commonwealth will put up the best fight, but in the end, their worlds will belong to our Honored Emperor. Our forces are simply too powerful for them to resist. The bridgehead we’ve established here will only be the beginning,” he said before reaching to unbutton the top of his tunic. “Sheel, it’s incredibly warm in here. Be a good fellow and turn down the temperature.”

Sheel tapped at a control pad he held in his hand. “You were saying, my Lord.”

“I was—saying. Ah, yes, then…” Cheprin’s voice dropped off. He placed his right hand over his brow and perspiration began beading up on his face.

Sheel gazed at the Lord Governor, his eyes growing wide. “My Lord? My Lord, is there something wrong?”

Cheprin looked up at his subordinate. “I don’t know. I feel—I feel dizzy, and very warm. I feel ill. Perhaps I’ve had too much sun today. Call for Doctor Devi.”

Sheel moved quickly to kneel at the right side of his superior, placing his hand on Cheprin’s arm to steady him, lest he tumble from his chair. “My Lord, you’ve been poisoned!”

Cheprin’s eyes swiveled to find Sheel’s face. “Don’t be absurd, Sheel,” he said as his words beginning to slur. “Why would you think I’ve been poisoned?”

“Because I’m the one who poisoned you—just now, with the wine.” Sheel steadied the slumping Lord Governor as Cheprin tried to say something, but couldn’t get it to come out. Just then, the door opened and Naar stepped into the room.

She stopped cold and gawked at the two men, trying to gauge the situation.

“Close the door,” Sheel ordered brusquely.

Frozen for only a moment, the blonde shut the door and then walked quickly to take up a position on the Lord Governor’s left side. “Sheel, what the hell is going on? You promised me I could do it!”

Sheel shrugged. “I know, but you weren’t here and an opportunity arose. Besides, he was about to speak with the fleetmaster of the battle group and I had to prevent that. It had to be done now.”

“Where’s Goran?” she asked.

“He’s off running an errand I gave him to get him out of the way. The only ones nearby are our people.”

Cheprin’s head bobbed back and forth trying to follow the exchange. “Naar… What are you…? Why are…?” He tried to demand an explanation, but his brain and body were failing him. Slumping back in his chair, his dilated blue eyes simply stared at the bearded Lesser Lord.

Sheel placed a hand on the Lord Governor’s shoulder. “You were about to hand over everything to your beloved Emperor and I couldn’t allow that to happen. Your esteemed Emperor this and your honored Emperor that! By the stars, all that deference to him is so nauseating. This planet and the nearby worlds, all that we stumbled onto a dozen years ago is too good to hand over to anyone back home, least of all your fool Emperor! If anyone’s going to be emperor here, it’s going to be me.”

Cheprin stared back with a blank expression.

Naar reached for his arm and failed to find a pulse. “Yeah, I think he died about halfway through your little rant. It was a great rant though. Congratulations, Lord Governor Sheel. You’re sure the stuff you used won’t be traceable?”

“Doctor Devi’s autopsy will show that our late Lord Governor died of a cerebrovascular accident—a stroke.” Sheel reached up to Cheprin’s horrified, vacant eyes and gently closed them. “It was a means to an end. He was just a pathetically narcissistic man with misguided loyalties. We needed him out of the way, but I take no great joy in his death,” said Sheel.

“I do,” said Naar.

“Yes, my dear. I’m sure you do.”

“Hey, you weren’t the one sleeping with him for the last six months,” Naar said bitterly as they walked to the front of the desk. “He was so ordinary in bed.”

“Spare me the details,” Sheel countered as he gazed upon the dead Cheprin, whose strawberry blond hair looked as if it had been combed for the occasion. “I’m sure he would be pleased with how handsome a corpse he makes.” The new colony leader moved to pour himself a small glass of wine.

“So now that you’re Lord Governor, does that make me Deputy Governor?”

“I think not. It’s best if you continue as the Lord Governor’s aide—my aide. I will appoint Goran as the new Deputy Governor. He’s a hard worker and a capable administrator and I’m sure he will do nicely. Our bigger problem may be this Fleetmaster Haldryn. We’ll just have to take the measure of the man and see how it goes with him.”

Sheel drained his glass and then wiped it with a handkerchief before pressing it into Cheprin’s hand. As he handed Cheprin’s original glass to Naar, he embraced her. “Take that glass back to your apartment and wash it up, then break it on the floor as though you’ve dropped it. Let the maid throw it in the trash tomorrow.” He gave her a lustful look and grabbed the back of her hair, pulling on it until she let out a whimper.

“You’re hurting me,” she said in a distressed voice.

He peered into her face and saw her pain. “I know. You enjoy it” he replied, pulling her head back further and kissing her hard on the neck, then on the lips. She responded passionately, pressing her body against his. “Better go now before Goran gets back,” he said as he released his grip, pushing her away hard enough to make her stagger.

She steadied herself and moved to the office door. Turning back to Sheel, Naar wore a wicked grin. “You know, everyone thinks you’re so timid,” she purred. “It excites me to know different.” Even in the midst of an assassination, Naar felt compelled to flirt. Of course, it was unnecessary, as the two of them had been lovers for over a year now.

After she exited the room, Sheel looked around to see that things were just so. When he was satisfied, he opened the office door. A boyish-faced thug, one of the security guards in Sheel’s pocket, was standing watch in the foyer. “Tharp,” beckoned Sheel, “I want you to summon Administrator Goran immediately. There’s been a terrible tragedy.”