War Games Page 10

  “Hmmm. While I appreciate delegation, I wonder if the Major is adding unnecessarily to your duties. I thought you would have already had your hands full.”

  Coming so soon on the feet of her erotic thoughts of the Senior Colonel, Lith couldn’t help the goggling look she threw at the screen.

  “It’s, er, no problem, Colonel. I’m, er, interested in what happens at HQ. I believe Major Swonnessy had the best of intentions.”

  The silence forced her to turn around…and be impaled by a grey gaze boring into her like a ragged corkscrew.

  “I’m sure we’re all very happy you accepted the position as the Senior Colonel’s aide,” he said, his voice smooth.

  Lith didn’t have a choice, she had to acknowledge his hand in this. “Only because of you, Colonel. I’d like to thank you again for recommending me for this position. It’s been, more than I expected.” Her lips were dry and nervous but Lith resisted the temptation to wet them with her tongue. The puckered flesh pulled at her mouth until she was sure it had stretched into some kind of grimace.

  “Always happy to help the chain of command,” he replied with one of his usual insincere smiles. With a brief nod, he moved away.

  Day 1,516 of the War:

  The craziness had to stop.

  The general staff meeting had finished for another week, but Cheloi felt discomfited and ill at ease. Her attention was slipping, her focus fuzzy. In any other commander, that was the ideal recipe for a mistake. For her, it could prove fatal.

  She and Lith had met again in her quarters last night. And the preceding two nights. Once more, they had indulged their passions but, again, there was no pleasurable lingering aftermath. Like a bomb, the minutes they stole together ticked away in the back of Cheloi’s head, making her sharply aware of how much time they could spend with each other, and how much more they could grab before it started looking suspicious. The one, the only, factor she had working in her favour was that the Perlim were a rabidly heterosexually-oriented society. While Fusion-born Laisen knew of other sexualities that existed in the galaxy, Cheloi had not heard about more than the socially acceptable ‘one male to one female’ standard relationship during her entire time in the empire. It was as though only the male-female dynamic existed, and she wondered at the lives of people who didn’t fit into that mould, who had to hide their intrinsic natures in order to survive in a corrupt society.

  Maybe it was enough for her to regard her mission as a blow for those of other sexualities. The thought amused her more than the rights and wrongs of universal access to public policy and debate. But she wasn’t going to be striking a blow for any kind of independence if she continued with the kind of woolly thinking that had dogged her for the past several days.

  Lith.

  No, she had to be honest about this. Blaming Lith was taking the easy way out. She hadn’t asked Cheloi to find her attractive. She hadn’t flaunted herself. In fact, Lith had tried to stay out of the way as much as possible.

  No, Cheloi had nobody to blame but herself. When she looked at Lith, touched her, caressed her warm and quivering skin, every other thought fled her mind.

  Even with Eys, it hadn’t been like this.

  Maybe it was the pressure-cooker environment of the planet. The warren of heavy earthen corridors underground. The unpredictable and lethal ionic storms high above. Whatever it was, Cheloi wanted to fall asleep with that lush body in her arms and wake up to its warmth next to hers, and do it over and over again for day upon day. She didn’t want distraction, she wanted oblivion. The problem was that Cheloi hadn’t come this far, completed years of training and waiting, destroyed entire battalions of soldiers, communities of civilians, towns, villages, animals, crops, infrastructure, just to falter at the last moment.

  She clenched her hands as she sat at her desk, grateful for the stabs of pain as her fingernails dug into her palms. She had to remember who she was and what she was doing here. This was bigger than Cheloi Sie or even Laisen Carros. This was the Fusion daintily toying with the empire and she was a very important part of that fragile, perilous dance. And that meant, no complications of the heart.

  As if that wasn’t bad enough, there was no way she could resume the relationship at some later point in time. Her mission on Menon, and her eventual extraction by the Fusion, were both one-way trips. She hadn’t brought anything with her, besides her wits, skill and experience, and she couldn’t take anything back. Not Lith. Not Rumis.

  I should send her away.

  Cheloi gripped the hard edge of the desk. No, even she wasn’t that strong. She knew she had to terminate the affair with her driver, before it got either of them imprisoned or killed, but she couldn’t countenance the thought of the younger woman walking away forever. Maybe that would be enough. All she had to do was avoid all physical contact with her aide and let the galaxy resume its level course.

  It’s going to be all right, she told herself, staring down at her hands.

  She was representing more than herself on Menon IV. She was representing the Fusion. And, despite their broad-minded attitudes to a lot that went on throughout the galaxy, Cheloi knew that the Fusion hated to lose.

  Lith nervously smoothed the hem of her tunic with her right hand. In her left, as usual, she held the Colonel’s newly-pressed and laundered uniform. As she walked to the Colonel’s quarters, she made sure her step was slow and measured. They had been careful, she knew that without a doubt. She and the Colonel didn’t meet every night, one time their tryst was conducted during the day, and they were circumspect and politely distant when together in public. There wasn’t a hint of what went on in the commander’s quarters after the door was locked.

  She swallowed. It would happen again tonight. She knew it. She would lose herself in the slim, muscled body of the commander of the Nineteen. She wouldn’t be thinking of the Free-Perlim Council. Or Nils. Or even the Butcher of Sab-Iqur. She would be revelling in the pleasure Cheloi never ceased to give her, her mind instead filled with thoughts of how she could repay such passion and enjoyment. Like a finely attuned instrument of Cheloi Sie’s, Lith felt herself getting aroused just thinking about it.

  She couldn’t deny that there were aspects of the relationship she didn’t like. The clandestine nature of their meetings, for one. The hurried way in which she had to pull on her clothes, smooth her hair, and cleanse all scent of lovemaking from her face and hands before she walked out the door. And it wasn’t just the mechanics of their affair. Being of Perlim descent, Lith knew the hatred and contempt with which same-sex relationships were viewed by the empire. Even putting the military aspect to one side, if anybody caught a whiff of something untoward, mere execution was something she could only dream about. The Empire was inventive and ruthless with those it considered to be subversive elements. Sexual orientation was no exception to the rule.

  Maybe she should have resisted the Colonel’s advances more. She should have been remembering the dead and burnt-out villages, but all she could focus on were Sie’s dark and mysterious eyes, sad and bitter in repose. Lith couldn’t help it. She knew what Cheloi Sie was but, in all honesty, it didn’t matter any more.

  The colonel was in her quarters when Lith delivered the fresh uniform and a sizzle of excitement flashed through her body. Then she stopped. Something was wrong. She could tell by the way she was directed to hang the clothing on the hook that jutted from the bureau in the anteroom.

  “Lock the door,” Sie ordered, but there was a different tone to her voice. This wasn’t the voice of someone getting ready for another episode of stolen passion. This was…something else.

  Lith flicked the lock on the door and sank into the nearest chair. Her body felt heavy with foreboding. Opposite, the Colonel looked at her for a long moment. Something flashed, deep and hard, across her face.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Sie began, then paused. She looked up at the ceiling, as if trying to rehearse in her mind the order of the words she wanted to speak. “About us.”

&
nbsp; Lith felt a shiver run up her arms and willed the Colonel to meet her eyes, to explain—quickly now!—what she meant by that cryptic statement. The silence lengthened. Lith wanted to slap the table and tell her to get on with it but her hands were frozen, clenched together tensely in her lap. Her throat was dry.

  “What we are doing is wrong in so many ways. And I, I must take full blame for that.”

  Wrong. Blame.

  The words reverberated in Lith’s mind. The colonel’s image jumped up and down in front of her, as if viewed through a badly aligned mute-bubble.

  Sie must have taken her silence for agreement, because she continued. “Even if you were a man rather than a woman, the continuation of our, liaison, wouldn’t be advisable. I’m aware that my rank and position of privilege may have coerced you into actions you normally,” she stopped and cleared her throat, “normally wouldn’t have indulged in. And I would be a poor example of a commander if I maintained such actions.”

  Lith stared at her and at the profile of a face that was turned away from her. What she and the colonel had “indulged in” had many names, but coercion was not one of them. A pool of anger started simmering deep in her belly.

  “Are you trying to say that you raped me?” she asked hoarsely, her voice high with disbelief.

  Damn her for making it so fucking neat! She could understand now why the Colonel was one of the best commanders the empire had. She could take emotions, ethics, bone-shuddering pleasure and reduce them to a cold equation of risk and consequences. She could manipulate reality itself so it conformed to her own objectives.

  Central Control must adore the ground she fucking walks on.

  Yet the anger couldn’t hide the sensation of being ripped apart. She thought that being in a relationship meant that important decisions were made jointly. All important decisions.

  But we didn’t have a relationship, did we?

  Yes, they did. It might have not been perfect. Near the beginning, she had flayed herself for being all sorts of a fool for the simmering attraction she felt for her superior officer. But she thought it had grown past that. They had grown past that, nurturing a tender, incredible thing into.… Well she didn’t want to speculate, but certainly something deeper and more memorable than a quick affair.

  But now, looking at that set dusky face, Lith wondered if she had been a trusting dupe to even think there was a living heart beating somewhere under that crisp, flaxen tunic. Mutinously, she stared at her superior, daring her to lock gazes.

  Rape.

  Cheloi resisted the impulse to bury her head in her hands. This was supposed to be a rational discussion. When had it veered into such booby-trapped terrain? She felt the flush dart hotly up her cheekbones, washing her face with red fire.

  “Maybe, rape is too strong a word,” she said as calmly as she could, but knew her voice was stilted. The words were aloof and stiff, like little toy soldiers marching on parade. “But you can’t deny there’s an element of duress inherent in our positions.”

  “Why don’t we try honesty for a change?” Lith asked with heat, her eyes narrowing. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t want to fuck me any more?”

  No.

  Yes.

  Was there a nicer way she could put this?

  “It’s not a good idea,” she finally agreed, striving for a tone of voice that she hoped would give her the upper hand. So far, she felt as though she’d just been caught in a very clever ambush. “We’re in a war zone, both of us in enough danger as it is. Our, our affair adds too much risk to the both of us.”

  “Risk?” Lith repeated. “What about feelings? What about passion?”

  Sie shook her head. “They would kill us if they found out, Lith.”

  “Kill? Is that all you’re worried about?”

  Cheloi wanted to hit something. Why now? Why did she have to find such a woman, so passionate and full of fire, precisely when she couldn’t afford to?

  “I’m worried about both our lives,” she corrected.

  Lith blinked again. She was probably trying to come to terms with the words exchanged in the past few minutes. Cheloi swallowed. This was for the best, she told herself. Why any sentient being would want the attentions of a mass murderer was beyond her. Maybe Lith, caught up in the heat of the moment, could bear such a touch, but Cheloi was sure her driver’s ardour would turn to dust in the end. Those energetic disclaimers would fade into uncomfortable silences. It was better to end things now.

  “So that’s it then,” the lieutenant finally said. She sounded angry and exhausted.

  “I’d like you to remain in your position,” Cheloi told her quietly, “but I understand if you wish a transfer.”

  “Thank you, Senior Colonel,” Lith replied, rising to her feet. “I shall take your request under advisement, and inform you of my decision in due course.”

  “Lith—”

  Cheloi heard the pleading in her own voice and quickly shut her mouth on it. She wanted to reach out her hand, but how could she extend such support when she’d just, with cool calculation, taken it all away? She watched the deliberation with which Lith turned her back on her, the jerkiness of her retreat. A soft click betrayed the careless flick of a wrist against the lock, then she was gone.

  Cheloi was left with the dismal revelation that she had gone and done the stupidest thing in the universe. She had fallen in love.

  “Love?” Kyn Behn knocked back a half of beer amid the roaring of her compatriots. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “That’s not an emotion. That’s an excuse!”

  The people at the table roared again. Some of them reached across with unsteady hands to shove her companionably in the arm or pat her on the shoulder.

  Commodore Behn sat back with a smug smile on her face, her gaze moving from one face to another. An onlooker to the action would have said that the commodore was as sozzled as the rest of her drinking party, lately docked at Pier Peer for much needed rest and recreation.

  Fleet B had just returned from a tour of the larger Jalean sector, using its small but impressively armed team of ships to keep the Nedron Union from muscling into its territory. Good cheer from a successful tour had naturally lead to a celebratory dinner at The Cube, one of the better dining establishments close to the space elevator that led up to the pier itself, a transfer station perched just beyond the planet’s atmosphere in the dark vacuum of space.

  “Did you see the way that Nedron cruiser tried to pretend its sensor systems were giving trouble?” Captain Zik asked.

  Even seated, his torso was swaying. Kyn calculated less than an hour before he collapsed and had to be lifted away by the discreet restaurant staff and deposited at the base’s quarters. She always made sure she tipped handsomely when she came to The Cube. Some of their services bordered on priceless.

  Two meaty hands hovered in the air in front of him, trying to imitate his ship and the Nedron cruiser in question.

  “Sensor systems,” he snorted, moving his left hand so its fingers bumped the thumb of his right several times. “As if the bastards thought I’d swallowed that one. They managed to move out of the way—the right way too—right smart when I came up their arse. Didn’t expect their helmsman to have such good reflexes.”

  There was a tinge of regret in the veteran’s voice, despite the fact that his manoeuvres could have sent a major part of both crews to oblivion.

  “Ah, who wants to hear about combat stories?” Captain Gyal interrupted.

  “I do,” Zik mumbled, but the older woman was in fine fettle and ignored him.

  “Combat stories are as plentiful as hydrogen out there,” she jerked her head up, indicating the infinite space beyond the restaurant walls. “What I’m more interested in are the personal stories,” she shot Kyn what she probably thought was a subtle look, complete with a wavering wink that momentarily closed both eyes. “The stories of the heart.”

  The rest of the table took this up as a chant. “Heart! Heart!” Their conversation, which
had already reached an alarming decibel level, threatened to drown out the rest of the patrons in the establishment. It was just as well The Cube was frequented more by military types than civilians or Kyn might have had to kill all the occupants just to save herself from future embarrassment.

  She put up her hand, requesting silence. Or, barring that, at least a decrease in the volume. “I’m not sure what you mean.” At their grumbled protests, she grinned. “I’ve already given you my opinion on the subject, dear officers. What more do you expect me to say?”

  “Do you mean to tell me,” Gyal asked, with the single-mindedness of the truly inebriated, “with all due respect, Commodore, that that lovely bit of fluff that devours you whole every time we dock at Peer doesn’t mean a thing to you?”

  “Whatever Seren Prie feels for me,” Kyn replied, shouting now above the jeering hubbub, “is her own affair. I haven’t put anything into her head.”

  “We weren’t talking about her head,” another of the captains joked raucously.

  Kyn grinned again, just as she caught a flash of movement at her peripheral vision. She turned…and the smile slowly faltered on her face.

  A bit of fluff that devoured her whole.

  Yes, that was a good way to describe Seren Va Prie, daughter of a fellow restaurant owner. Near the bottom of the elevator, hospitality establishments thrived. They catered for a crowd of arrivals who couldn’t wait till they travelled to the capital before sampling the delights of planetside living. The Cube was popular with the military, but the Prie family owned Prie’s Pleasure, an upscale eatery that catered more to the wealthy cruiseliner crowd. What Va found so attractive in a bawdy senior officer more than a decade older than her was a mystery to Kyn. Judging by the ribald comments of her officers, it was a mystery to most of her command structure as well.

  She rose as quietly as she could and slipped away while Gyal’s attention was diverted by a quarrelsome Zik. They were the comedy act of the fleet and Kyn would be sad to leave them.