War Games Part 7

It appeared no facet of the situation was beyond Nils' planning abilities and winning rhetoric. Because she admired him, because he spoke so persuasively, because she wanted to do something rather than watch her parents continue to sink in misery-riven nostalgia, she was convinced. She threw herself wholeheartedly into his brilliant strategy.

But that was then, when the excitement of her covert mission still ran hot through her veins. When she still had Nils' fiery looks and brave words to keep her going. But now....

Now Nils was far away and Lith couldn't even remember his features clearly. Was the colour of his eyes more brown or green? She couldn't remember. And what did that say about her? Was she shallow and fickle, attracted only to the nearest strong personality? Did that explain her attraction to Colonel Sie?

"She has blood on her hands," Lith whispered, trying to bolster her own sense of righteousness. "She's more than a killer. She's a psychopath."

As a member of a militant, breakaway faction of the Free-Perlim Council, Lith needed to remember her mission. She had to focus, and keep all other emotional thoughts at bay. She should concentrate on what she managed to do at Bul-Guymem, build on that, and ensure that nothing else interfered with why she was here. Not pity, not compa.s.sion, and certainly not l.u.s.t.

Because, no matter how attractive she found the Colonel, no matter that the kiss they exchanged earlier in the evening was one of the most tender, filled with the most promise, of any she had ever experienced, she could not run away from the fact that she was not here to f.u.c.k Senior Colonel Cheloi Sie.

She was here to kill her.

Chapter Seven.

Day 1,511 of the War: "Why did you join the Covert section of the Fusion's political arm?"

"We've covered this before, Doctor."

"Humour me, please."

Why did she think that talking to an AI construct would be any better than speaking to a real person? Maybe it was because she expected to discuss things once, have the artificial wetware record every word, then move on. She should have known better.

"You've seen my psych profile, haven't you, Doctor?"

"You know I have."

"Then doesn't that tell you, far more efficiently than I could, why I joined?"

"It only tells me half the story, Laisen. It tells me why we chose you. It doesn't tell me why you chose us."

"Is it really that important?"

Copan seemed to consider it as he pursed his lips. "Yes, I think it is." He tilted his head to one side. "You belong to a family of five, do you not?"

Just like the real Copan, the virtual Copan was relentless. She sighed.

"Yes." She reeled off the facts as if reciting them from an e-pad. "Two parents, two older brothers. One brother is on the Galactic Trading Board on Anvil. The other is Chief Examiner for an artisan guild, stationed on Roamer Shun. My parents are semi-retired and holding academic posts on the Floks Nine Semi-Dyson."

"None of your family has a military background?"

"None that I recall." Her voice was dry.

"It's strange in a way," he mused. "With your skills, and your family's leaning toward service, I thought a career with the Fusion military would have been a more obvious choice. Instead, you chose the Fusion's covert arm where you've been an operative for," he hesitated, "twenty years, is it?"

"Twenty-one."

"Just so. Twenty-one. In that time, if you had joined the Fleet, you would have been promoted to a comfortable desk job by now. Instead, you're still here, in a very hands-on role, risking your life for something you admit you regard more as a game. And with," he smiled, "an annoying AI program to keep you company."

She answered his smile with one of her own. "You are annoying, Doctor. Don't be in any doubt about it."

He acknowledged her comment with a gracious nod. "So what do you find attractive about such a position? Is it the autonomy? The variety of missions? Are you happy to be away from your family for such extended periods of time?"

"I get on well enough with my family," she replied easily. "We've always been an independent lot, so I see them as much as any of us would want." That wasn't strictly true, but Laisen glossed over the thought. "The autonomy? Yes, I suppose that's an attraction. Maybe," she blinked a couple of times and tried to get her thoughts in order, "maybe I like it because it's the ultimate challenge. Every mission is like a puzzle I've been tasked to solve. The question is, can I solve it and still get out in one piece?"

"But there are other challenges in the galaxy. Surely you don't need to feel you have to constantly put your life on the line in order to accomplish something meaningful?"

She knew where this was leading. She had already built up a certain type of reputation within the covert arm. If there was any dirty work to be done, any potential for remorseless execution, n.o.body could do it better than Laisen Carros. Maybe twenty years ago, at the beginning of her career, she was an agent like any other. But then something happened. Something that flipped her from a cautious agent to someone relentless. If Copan continued this line of questioning, it was inevitable her record would be discussed. And that would wind its way to Eys. She didn't want to talk about Eys. The Fusion, Copan, knew about her, but the vault that contained her innermost feelings for the woman she'd once loved was locked tight against Copan's probing. She would happily even discuss Lith, but not Eys. Not yet.

"You mentioned the military," she cut in. "Can I tell you why I didn't join the Fleet, Doctor?"

"Please do."

"Have you ever treated Fleet personnel?"

"A few."

"Believe me when I tell you that they're all the same. Whether they're Fusion, Nedron, Braan, they just can't keep a secret."

"Secret?" He looked puzzled.

"It's the same here with the Perlim Ground Forces. There isn't a military structure anywhere in the universe that's airtight. They leak news, gossip and cla.s.sified orders the way an antique s.p.a.cesuit leaks atmosphere. When I'm on the opposite side of a proper army, I try to take advantage of it. When I'm in one, it irritates the h.e.l.l out of me. If I had joined the Fleet, I'm sure I'd be in a very comfortable position right now, but only if I could weld shut the mouths of every subordinate under my command."

Copan chuckled. "An astute observation."

She shook her head. "It's an impossible situation, being placed in a position of weakness through no fault of your own. Every indiscretion, real or imagined, gets pa.s.sed along, dissected, commented upon, exploited. But here, on a covert mission, the only person who can betray me is myself."

He sobered. "And that's a very real possibility. This is the longest mission you've ever been on and only the fifth time a psych-kernel has been inserted in an operative's brain."

And the time Copan referred to, the years she'd already spent on Menon IV, didn't include the months she spent waiting for the opening in the first place. It took almost three years before the Fusion found a good enough subst.i.tution for her. Three years while she slogged through Perlim language and culture, history and military tactics, absorbing as much information as she could on the prominent political and military players so she couldn't be tripped up. The last year was the worst because it came down to nothing more than revision and waiting. Waiting until her a.s.signed target could be killed under the right circ.u.mstances. Until the secret doc.u.ment traces could ensure proper revision. Until a capable officer with a solid combat record by the name of Cheloi Sie could be replaced by an impostor who would take the Fusion's objectives to the next level.

If the real Cheloi Sie had died prematurely during the planning stages of the switch, Laisen would have been stood down and someone else closer to the next-best target would have been ramped up and the cycle repeat itself. This was no action from a young and impetuous conglomerate. If there was one thing she could always depend on, it was the thoroughness of Fusion thinking.

From the moment she had been stealth-displaced into the Thirty-Five, all communication with the Fusion ceased, as much for her own protection as for theirs. But for such an extended mission, they didn't just drop her in and forget her. They knew there would be crus.h.i.+ng pressure coming from many sides. So they added a neural psych-kernel to give her an outlet for her thoughts, instructed her on how to activate the wetware in her sleep and, after repeatedly asking her to confirm she wanted to be a part of this, altered her, sent her in and wished her the best of luck.

There was only one circ.u.mstance under which she would contact the Fusion again, and that was when she was ready for extraction. The signalling hardware, crafted from bone matrix, was concealed in her left wrist and programmed to burn out in fifteen seconds, after it completed sending three brief bursts of location information into the ether. From the moment she sent the signal, the time to rescue was measured in minutes. She didn't know how the Fusion managed to pinpoint and remove someone so quickly but they had never failed, never in her twenty-one years of field work.

Days ago, she thought she would ask Copan about the likelihood of finally retiring. But the idea of extraction brought up a subject she felt was much more immediate.

"You're sure I can't take anyone away with me?"

She was thinking of Rumis.

"Major Swonnessy belongs to a different society, Laisen." The real Copan would have been irritated with repeating himself so many times, but the wetware version was relentlessly polite and understanding. Maybe that's why Laisen kept bringing up the subject. The virtual Copan never seemed to know when to say enough was enough, and she still harboured the faint hope she could talk it around to her point of view.

"I know it's very difficult to live a life for several years and not become attached to the surrounding people, but you must resist. Perhaps after this conflict is over, you can consider approaching him, but I would still caution you to leave such contact for a few years until he's had a chance to adjust to a new life and create some mental distance between himself and his past. A personality can become dangerously volatile if confronted by a shocking revelation so soon after a period of extended trauma."

Extended trauma. That's how Copan described the bloodbath of Menon. The phrase levelled everyone to the status of victim, whether they were Perlim, Menon...or Fusion.

"And I can f.u.c.k Lith but not fall in love with her?" she asked with a twist of her lips.

He nodded, not the least bit offended. "That would be the best strategy."

She leant back in her chair, clearly dissatisfied. The simulation was so complete, she heard the frame creak as she settled her weight into it.

"At least the Fusion is doing something about the Perlim situation," Copan said into the morose silence.

Was the program bringing up small talk because it felt sorry for her?

She flicked her hand in a nonchalant gesture. "We have a lot of refugees from along the Laeyek border," thoughts of Lith surfaced momentarily, "but they're being treated properly enough as it is, without needing to know any more." She suppressed a snort. "If only the Free-Perlim Council had an idea of what we were really up to."

During her training, she had studied the Council, one of the smallest and noisiest of all the Fusion's many warmongering parties. Their oldest members had fled to the Fusion three generations ago, but they had never fully a.s.similated. Regardless of how long ago they had fled the Empire, they all wanted the same thing. An all-out war. Perlim versus Fusion, no matter that it was singularly ill advised. The displaced community kept demanding military action, as if every social injustice could be erased through state-sponsored murder, and the Fusion kept ignoring it.

The Free-Perlim Council's youth arm was particularly strident. She recalled a handsome firebrand...Nees? Nuss? Nils! Much to her surprise, he had dropped out of the organisation just as she had been deployed to Menon. She remembered catching vids of him at various public meetings and had read his fervent, but ultimately unsuccessful, submissions to the Lower Convergence. It was strange because he had such pa.s.sion and energy. After watching the way he spoke about the Perlim situation and listening to his grievances, she expected him to be spouting vigorous war speeches till his death-bed. He had that sort of look about him. Then click! He disappeared.

Maybe he had grown sick of advocating war. Maybe, she thought dryly, it showed that she was not as good at reading people and their motivations as she thought she was.

She looked at Copan. "You're trying to distract me, aren't you? Getting me to think about something else besides Rumis."

"Is it working?"

"Yes."

"Then, in that case, yes. I'm trying to distract you."

His face was serious, but his eyes twinkled.

Day 1,512 of the War: Lith cleared her throat. In one hand she held the Colonel's uniform, recently laundered with less stiffening. In the other, she held the late afternoon's despatches. In both, she held her nervously beating heart.

It was five days since her dinner with the Colonel, and she had thought of little else but the kiss they exchanged. After that night, she had wanted to stay away from her superior as much as possible, and was still amazed at how circ.u.mstances conspired to exceed her expectations. The life of a commanding officer's aide was a frantic one of visits to other sectors, hospitals and administration centres; double-checking of requisition and delivery forms; laundry and driving duties; all on top of whatever else an aide was specifically requested to do by his or her commanding officer. And Sie herself had been absent for two days, occupied by an Intelligence workshop that had been held at the Seventeen.

Thank the universe that subsequent meals had been with company, and she had even missed one of those when Rumis took her out for a relaxing evening at a bar he frequented in Territory Three.

Rumis.

She supposed she would have to do something about him too. At the moment, she was using him as a s.h.i.+eld against the Colonel. He was attractive, funny and protective and deserved better than the crumbs of attention she was throwing him. Even Nils had garnered more of her undivided consideration and she was starting to regret giving him so much of her time. What had seemed so simple on Laeyek Omni B had turned completely upside down on Menon IV. Her parents had painted their own unhappy past in strokes of widest black and Nils had not been any better. How strange, then, to be treated with a casual courtesy by most of the soldiers she met. Rumis had extended more friends.h.i.+p and solidarity to her than most of the other members of the Free-Perlim Council. And as for the Colonel....

She pressed the access b.u.t.ton and heard a distracted command to enter just as the door slid open.

The Colonel was not alone. She was seated behind her desk, furiously perusing something on an e-pad. Rumis was standing in front and to one side of her. He turned at Lith's entrance and a broad smile split his face.

"Lieutenant," he greeted.

"Major, Colonel," she murmured. Sie accorded her only the briefest of looks before turning back to her paperwork.

Maybe she should hand over the reports and laundry and escape before she got herself into any more trouble. Yes, that was probably for the best.

"I'll put your clothes," she began, but Cheloi interrupted her.

"Please stay." Her eyes were still scanning words. "I have some rough words I'd like you to pa.s.s along to the camp laundry."

Lith saw Rumis grin and wiggle his eyebrows at her. The Colonel had a reputation for not sparing her words when something displeased her.

"Yes Colonel," she answered.

"Rumis, it looks like you and I will need to pay Colonel Twol a visit next week. I think he's being a bit too conservative in his sector's tactics."

"I'll arrange it, Colonel. What time would suit you?"

"Try to make it a morning visit. The guest quarters in Yellow sector aren't very comfortable."

"Yes Colonel."

"Dismissed."

Cheloi looked up then, sketching her adjutant a quick, nominal salute and watching as he pa.s.sed next to her aide.

"The latest holo-vid will be showing down in Five the day after tomorrow. Care for an evening out?"

Lith swung her gaze from the Colonel to Rumis. "Er, yes. If I'm free. That would be nice."

"Let me know. I'll collect you at eighteen hours if you are." He saluted again and left.

Silence filled the room.

"He likes you," Cheloi finally commented, her expression bland.

Lith felt ridiculous standing there with her hands full. "I like him too," she replied, a little defensively.

The Colonel lifted an eyebrow and made an airy gesture with her hand. "In that case, maybe after the war...."

Lith stared at her. What was she trying to suggest? That after the war she and Rumis could settle down and play happy families? She was confused. Had she imagined that impa.s.sioned kiss they exchanged? She jiggled the uniform.

"You had something you wanted me to tell the laundry section?" She hoped her voice didn't sound as desperate as she felt.

The Colonel got up. In deference to the fact that it was late evening, her jacket was partially unb.u.t.toned exposing a neck of smooth brown skin. Lith looked away and felt rather than saw the reports and clothes being taken from her. Part of her wanted to run away. Another part wanted to jump headlong into those arms. She remained frozen to the spot.

She heard the Colonel disappear into her private quarters, and only turned her head when she returned, watching as the commander leant against the edge of the desk. Her eyes caught and locked with Lith's.

"If you want, you can lock the door."