Catalyst Page 6

  Not that she had paid attention herself, back when she felt the same urgency.

  Well. Time to move her feet and find out if she still had an ally in Admiral Tsao.

  She walked into the hub, enjoying the myriad and delicious scents wafting from the ring of food shops, and crossed to the nearest row of tube lifts. Most of the passengers on her train had already been whisked away, leaving so many lifts open that she had no need to use the officers’ lift on the end. At the nearest open tube, she lifted her palm to the scanning pad. Eye scan at one end, palm scan at the other—no one got into the Spires without passing redundant security protocols.

  “Captain Ekatya Serrado, confirmed,” the computer said. “Destination, please.”

  Ekatya held on to the circular rail with both hands. “Spire Two, level sixty-three, Admiral Tsao.”

  The rails were merely a precaution. Most of the time, the lift tubes operated so smoothly that she never felt any movement, let alone the gravity and centrifugal forces she should have as her tube sped through lateral and vertical chutes. A graphic on the tube’s wall showed her progress through the complex, from the underground hub of the train station up to the trunk tubes at the surface, then a kilometer to the north to reach Spire Two, up through the central core of the spire, and out again to the tube bank nearest Admiral Tsao’s office.

  She had entered the tube in a noisy, echoing underground space perfumed by exotic foods. She exited onto thick carpeting in a nearly silent corridor, the air so perfectly filtered and recycled that the very absence of odor registered as a scent.

  Settling her shoulders beneath her jacket, she walked down the familiar corridor to the admiral’s door. The adjutant looked up from his desk and smiled as she entered.

  “Captain Serrado, welcome back! It’s good to see you after so many weeks of wondering if we could even get you off that planet. May I get you a cup of coffee?”

  For a moment she was bewildered by his friendliness. “That would be lovely. Do you have the Allendohan blend?” She had developed a preference for the flavor from Lhyn’s home planet.

  “We certainly do. Let me get that for you.” He bustled around the counter at the back of the room, speaking as he input the order. “Admiral Tsao is wrapping up a call. I’ll tell her you’re here, and I’m sure she’ll be with you in just a few minutes.” He crossed the plush carpet, holding out a dainty cup and saucer.

  “Thank you.” Ekatya sat in one of the comfortable chairs against the wall and sipped her coffee. She had only gotten through half of it when the interior door slid open and Admiral Tsao appeared.

  “Captain Serrado. Please come in.”

  The adjutant was magically at her side, taking the cup and saucer from her hand before she managed two steps. She followed the admiral into her luxurious office, where the carpet seemed even thicker and a sinuously curved desk sat on the inside corner. One thing she had always liked about Tsao was the admiral’s priority of aesthetics over power. While most of the brass put their desks facing the door, Tsao preferred not to have her back to the spectacular view. Her guests did instead.

  Ekatya stood beside a visitor’s chair while Tsao settled herself. The admiral was taller than she, with a full head of gray hair kept in a severe pulled-back style. She was slim in build, narrow of face, and bore a scar through her left eyebrow, a souvenir from her time on the front lines when the Voloth war was hot. Her blue eyes had not faded with age and still managed to look right through a person. Today, however, they seemed friendly.

  “I’m so glad we got that nonsense with the debriefings over with,” she said, then frowned at Ekatya’s hands. “What happened to your coffee? Sit down.”

  “Your adjutant is very efficient, but I was done anyway,” Ekatya said as she sat. “And I’m somewhat surprised at your characterization of the debriefings.”

  Tsao leaned back in her chair and sighed. “I know. I wish I could have supported you more openly, but half of that panel was waiting to jump on my back if I did. The only way I could help you was by making a show of impartiality. Otherwise my opinion at the final conference would have meant nothing.”

  That would have been nice to know two weeks ago. But Ekatya had played these games as well and understood the position Tsao was in. “It’s good to hear that I didn’t lose your support,” she said carefully. “And apparently carried half the panel, since they set me free.”

  Tsao frowned. “Yes, that house arrest was…unnecessary. And embarrassing. I did lodge a formal protest against that, because regardless of how the debriefings went, we simply do not treat decorated officers that way. Or any officers who haven’t broken the law. You did disobey orders and break several regulations, but the fact that you were awarded a new Pulsar-class ship should have put that in your rear sensors.”

  “So why was I given the special treatment?”

  “You’re not going to like the answer.”

  Ekatya waited.

  “You attracted the attention of Director Sholokhov. He’s the one who ordered your confinement to quarters.”

  “The head of Protectorate Security? I didn’t know he could overrule admirals.”

  “He can overrule anyone, with the possible exception of the Assembly Leader and the President, and even then I’m not certain he couldn’t arrange something behind the curtain.” Tsao leaned forward, crossing her forearms on her desk. “Sholokhov is a very dangerous man. No one wants to be in his line of sight, not even me. I probably burned a few fingers even filing that protest against his confinement order, though it’s entirely possible that he just laughed at it. He does love to demonstrate his power.”

  “Then I’m guessing he’s the reason that debriefing panel was stacked with admirals who have never liked me.”

  “Yes. And now you see why my open support would have done you no good.”

  Suddenly, Ekatya felt much better about being in this building. “I do. Can I assume that panel did not reflect general Fleet consensus, then?”

  “Don’t imagine for a moment that there aren’t a number of admirals wishing they could strip you down to ensign. You took the word maverick and put your own image on it. Had you been wrong in your assessment, your actions would have damaged the Protectorate to such a degree that it would have taken years to recover.”

  Ekatya did not react, and Tsao eventually nodded. “But your assessment was correct, and you saved us from a devastating shift in the balance of power. It would have taken more than mere years to recover from the Voloth gaining control of Alsea’s nanoscrubbers. It might have taken half a century. They could have confined us to just a few planetary systems.”

  Again Ekatya waited. She was used to Tsao’s style.

  “So yes, those admirals are the minority. Most of us know exactly what you saved us from, and I personally believe your actions are worthy of a Presidential Medal of Galactic Service.” She smiled for the first time. “Finally broke that mask of yours. I’ll mark this as an accomplishment.”

  Ekatya was almost too shocked to hear her last words. “You… Galactic Service? But that’s for—”

  “Acts of such valor, distinction, or importance that they impact the course of history, yes. And that is exactly what you did.” Tsao gave one brisk nod. “Unfortunately, in the course of doing that, you also got up the asses of some very powerful people. One of them is Director Sholokhov.”

  Still floating on the idea of a Medal of Galactic Service, Ekatya said, “But I’ve been cleared, so what can he do? I just need to keep my head down for the next year or so until I get my new ship, and then I’ll be off his sensors.”

  Tsao looked at her pityingly. “It will be closer to a year and a half, according to the last estimate, and he can do anything he damn well wants. And what he wants is you.”

  “What?”

  “You’ve been assigned to him, Captain. I received your new orders yesterday. Wh
ich was a surprise to me, since I thought I was the one who issued your orders.”

  Ekatya’s jaw loosened. “I…wait. Fleet warship captains do not work for members of government. Not even directors.”

  “They do when they’ve been requested for temporary assignment in the absence of active shipboard duty.”

  “A temp assignment for a year and a half?” Ekatya’s voice rose. “What happened to being the military liaison for the task force reviewing the Non-Interference Act?”

  “Ironically, that’s how Sholokhov maneuvered you into his clutches. You were already working with the government. He simply inserted himself as your reporting authority.”

  “So I’m still working with the task force, but reporting to him.”

  “Correct.”

  Ekatya closed her eyes and took a calming breath. “If he wanted me reporting to him, why put me through that hangman’s debriefing? And the business with the confinement to quarters? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “It does to him. He was proving a point.”

  “What, that he has power over my career?” The anger of the last two weeks was surging back.

  “No. That he has power over your life. Captain…” Tsao paused. “Ekatya. Please listen carefully. I can’t protect you from this. You are officially no longer under my authority. You are under the authority of a man who thinks nothing of destroying people’s lives if they cross him, or if their destruction will gain him some tiny step forward in any of the thousand ops he’s currently running. He sees people as strategic assets, nothing more. And now he sees you as a strategic asset. I don’t know how he intends to use you, but he surely has something in mind, and just as surely, you won’t like it. But I strongly advise you to do whatever you have to, short of breaking the law, and even then I wouldn’t worry too much about the lesser laws.”

  Ekatya stared at her. She had never heard Tsao sound so concerned.

  “I want you to come back to me when you’ve fulfilled your temp time with him,” Tsao continued. “I want you in that new ship. But first you need to get through this, and that means staying on his good side.” She frowned. “That might not be the right term; I’m not sure he has a good side. Just make sure he has no reason to punish you.”

  Tsao sent the new orders to her pad, offered a few more words of advice—most of which boiled down to don’t give him a reason to strike—and wished her luck. When Ekatya stepped back into the lift tube, the knot in her stomach had nothing to do with dropping sixty-three stories back to ground level. How was she supposed to avoid angering a man she had already angered? Sholokhov had put her through Tartarus for two weeks simply to prove his power over her. And he had denied her the most basic right of communication, which should not have been possible. For Shipper’s sake, convicted criminals had the right to communication!

  On the train back to Lhyn’s hotel, she did a records search for Sholokhov, filtered out all mainstream news sources—which she assumed he had some control over—and began reading the news from small outfits and independent writers. The stories were not flattering. One in particular made her queasy.

  Sholokhov had been on a firing range with knock-down targets, practicing with two friends. They were using pulse pistols, civilian weapons which lacked the precision of hand phasers but had the advantage of a larger point of impact. Pulse projectiles were also prone to ricochets.

  The three friends had emptied their charge caps, knocking down most of the targets, but Sholokhov had missed one. His two friends called out an on-range warning, after which no shooting could be allowed. Then they walked out to reset their targets.

  Ignoring the most basic rule of shooting ranges, Sholokhov had put a new charge cap on his pulse pistol and attempted to down his last target. The pulse projectile hit the left edge of the target and ricocheted through the thigh of one of his friends, nicking the femoral artery. The only reason the man did not bleed out was that the range was close to a hospital.

  The shooting was entirely Sholokhov’s fault. Even raw Fleet recruits knew to never shoot downrange after an on-range warning was called. Failure to abide by one of the most basic rules of weapons handling resulted in heavy penalties up to and including discharge from Fleet.

  Sholokhov admitted no fault. To the contrary, he was so angry at his friends for going on-range while he was still trying to down his final target that he forced the injured man to apologize for getting in his way.

  Ekatya dropped the pad in her lap and stared out the window. Sholokhov had nearly killed his friend and made him apologize for it.

  If that was how he treated friends, how was she going to get through the next year and a half?

  CHAPTER 7:

  Memories

  “Brings back memories, doesn’t it?” Lhyn looked over with a sunny smile as they walked into the hotel lobby.

  Ekatya stopped, then turned back to the door they had just come through. “I never came in this way. I had no idea this was the same hotel. You sneak!”

  Lhyn’s open laughter turned heads in the lobby. “So much for your observation skills, Fleeter. This is why you leave anthropology to the professionals. There are four entrances to this hotel, and you only ever used two.”

  “I might have used more had I stayed with my original intent of exploring Gov Dome after my lectures. Somehow I never seemed to see anything besides the inside of my room.”

  “Not my fault,” Lhyn said as they crossed to the bank of check-in units. She bent down for a retinal scan.

  “Entirely your fault. I came here with very professional intentions. It was a conference, after all.”

  Lhyn held up her pad to the unit, waited for the key transfer, then checked it. “I came for a conference, too. Just not the one I stumbled into.”

  Ekatya held up her own pad and received the key code. “You never stumbled.”

  She felt a haunting sense of familiarity as they entered the lift together, and when Lhyn pushed her against the back wall and kissed her, the familiarity took root in her bones. They had done this every time, unable to wait even for the twenty seconds it would take to get to her floor.

  The lift door opened and Lhyn pulled back, her hand sliding down from Ekatya’s shoulder and tangling their fingers together. “I remember being quite irritated that the idiot clerk pointed me to the wrong conference room. Do I look like a merchant marine?”

  “How do you succeed in your field if you think in stereotypical terms like that?” Ekatya let herself be led down the quiet corridor. “Just because you’re gorgeous doesn’t mean you couldn’t be a merchant marine attending my lecture series.”

  “Oh, that comment gets a reward.” They arrived at their door, where Lhyn held her pad to the scanner. As soon as the door slid open, she pulled Ekatya inside and kissed her again, this time with less urgency and more depth.

  “It’s the truth,” Ekatya said when they pulled apart. “Thank you, by the way.”

  “For what?”

  “For bringing us here. I’ve been dreading coming to Gov Dome, and I’m dreading tomorrow’s meeting, but this…” She looked around the elegant space. “You even got us the same room.”

  “Well, I certainly wasn’t going to get us my old room. The Institute put me up in a closet. Captains get much better accommodation.”

  Ekatya went to the window and looked out over the busy landscape of Gov Dome. From the nineteenth floor she had an excellent view of the imposing buildings at the heart of the complex: the Presidential Palace, the Hall of Assembly, the Hall of Justice, and the Hall of Records. The four cornerstones of the Protectorate government lined the sides of a vast grassy square, anchored at its center by a pool full of water jets which never stopped their graceful dance, no matter the time of day or night. She had often stood at this window on her last visit, watching the jets play, and had never seen them repeat a pattern.

  Lhyn’s arms came
around her waist and settled over her stomach. “I have such good memories of that view. And this room.”

  Ekatya leaned back against her. “Me too. It was so out of character for me, letting a stranger pick me up after my lecture.”

  “Maybe some part of you knew even then. We may not have the empathic centers of Alseans, but if we’re tyrees, then something had to connect. I know I was drawn to you the moment I walked in the conference room and saw you up on the stage. You were practically glowing in the lights, and you had total command of the room. Those merchant marines were hanging on your words.”

  “Were you?” Ekatya’s gaze was still on the view, but she wasn’t seeing it anymore. She was seeing a tall figure at the back of that conference room, striding down the aisle as the audience was rising and filing out. The stranger had smiled as if she knew her, and Ekatya had simply stopped what she was doing and waited.

  “Hanging on your words? No. I was focused on your tone of voice…and your body language…” Lhyn slid her hands up Ekatya’s sides. “…and the way you used your hands.” She brought her hands around and interlaced their fingers. “My experience with Fleet captains was that they were all business all the time—and usually exasperated with me and my teams. You should have been the last person I was attracted to.” Resting her chin on Ekatya’s shoulder, she added, “But I do remember that you were telling them something about what to do in the event of capture. It’s hard to imagine a lifestyle where getting held up by pirates is an occupational hazard.”

  “Some of those shipping routes are ridiculously hazardous, and the most dangerous ones pay the best wages. Merchant marines aren’t known for playing it slow and safe.”

  As she nosed into the hollow beneath Ekatya’s ear, Lhyn whispered, “Slow and safe does not describe what we did that night.”

  “Or any of the next four nights.” Ekatya turned and slid her hands up Lhyn’s chest. “I don’t want to think about tomorrow. Do you suppose we could relive one of those nights instead?”