gaian consortium 03 - the gaia gambit (5 page)

“They didn’t have a chance,” she repeated, her words barely above a whisper. No, they wouldn’t, not with five heavily armed cruisers waiting for them. Something in her pushed her to continue her own defense. “If the
Valiant
hadn’t been called away — ”

“It would have made no difference, and you know it. The
Valiant
would have been completely outmatched, and your crew lost along with the colonists and the scientific team.”

The team. So they were gone as well, the men and women she’d come to know over the past few months, Dr. Singh and Dr. D’Ambrosio and all the others. Her hands curled into fists. What a lie Rast sen Drenthan had spun. She had no idea Stacians could be such good liars.

More arguments rose to her lips, but she knew she needn’t bother to voice them. The admiral was right — her one ship could not have held out against five of the Stacian fleet’s largest and best-equipped cruisers. He probably hadn’t thought of it this way, and wouldn’t care to be told of the fact, but Admiral Horner’s abrupt summons to regional HQ had saved her life and the life of her crew.

How far out from the disputed system had those cruisers been hiding? Long-range scans had shown no sign of any other enemy craft in the space around Chlorae II. Then again, the signal must have been given as soon as Captain sen Drenthan had left. Those cruisers could have been out of scanning range and still able to get to the Chlorae system in less than a standard day. Sensor equipment could do a lot, but it still had a difficult time finding a moving target that was parsecs away, especially if that target kept popping in and out of subspace. That was a common tactic to avoid enemy scans.

Very likely it had all been a joke, some perverse trick by the Stacian captain to show his dominance before calling in the reinforcements that would bring Chlorae II and its valuable ore under Stacian control. Oh, there would be repercussions, of course. The sector council would condemn the act, and the Eridanis would pronounce on the importance of following the strictures of the treaty, but of course the Stacians could just claim that they had first rights to the millenite, since they were the ones to initially chart the system. It was all very muddy, but this war would only be staged in the courts and around the bargaining tables that had taken the place — for the most part — of bloody battlefields.

It had all been for nothing. She had compromised her honor, and risked the lives of her crew, for a lie. Slowly she reached up and unclipped the stars from the collar of her uniform, then laid them on the shining stainless steel surface of Admiral Horner’s desk. She did not bother to speak. What, at this juncture, could she possibly say? His cold-eyed stare told her without words how much he condemned her…and how lucky she was that she would only suffer the disgrace of a dishonorable discharge, and not a full court-martial and life imprisonment in the GDF brig on Europa.

Still silent, she turned and left the admiral’s office. She knew she would never return.

Rast entered Admiral sen Trannick’s chambers and wondered what the reward for his success might be — reassignment to his home world’s system defense fleet, or perhaps even a promotion to commodore and his own regional command. One could never be sure, when carrying out a wager so successfully, but the admiral had been known to be generous when someone pleased him.

Unlike the Gaians, the Stacian commanders maintained their offices shipboard, and not on a space station or moon base. Also unlike the Gaians, those of high rank generally had quarters that would be considered sybaritic by most impartial observers. Admiral sen Trannick’s chambers were no exception; tapestries of Iradian silk covered the walls, and a rug with intricate but muted patterns cushioned the floor. Carved stone jars holding the ubiquitous
merh
that scented Stacian clothing and hair ointments were placed around the room to cover up the synthetic odors that always seemed to emanate from the great starships’ ventilation systems.

The admiral rose from his desk as Rast entered, the older man’s scarred face cracked in a great smile. “Ah, sen Drenthan. Quite the success!”

That it had been. If only he had made the bargain for two nights instead of one. All during the journey here he’d ached to touch Lira Jannholm again, to bury himself in her. What would it have been like to lie down with her and know that she still would be there in the morning, instead of fleeing at her earliest opportunity?

“Thank you, Excellency,” Rast said. “Truly, I was a little surprised Captain Jannholm even agreed, but you must have known more of her character than I guessed.”

“Oh, that.” The admiral shrugged. “An amusing ploy, but not the real story.”

“Oh?” Rast didn’t much like the sound of that. After all, his commanding officer had seemed fairly invested in suborning Lira Jannholm, in getting Rast a taste of a human female.

About that, the admiral had been right. Lira did taste delicious.

Rast asked, his voice somewhat sharper than he had intended, “And what is the real story?”

The familiar rapacious glint returned to Admiral sen Trannick’s eyes. “Someone reported her actions to her commanding officer. They recalled her immediately to base…and so I sent in a squad of
Trenth
-class cruisers to attack the outpost on Chlorae II. The arriving colonists had a nasty surprise waiting for them, I’m afraid.”

Over the years Rast had learned to think before he spoke, and so luckily he did not say what first sprang to mind — that the admiral’s actions were a clear contravention of the Eridani treaty, and would lead to bitter and protracted reprisals from the Gaian government. He also did not much like the thought of Stacian ships gunning down unprotected civilians and scientists. It was one thing to face your equals in battle, but lying in wait to shoot miners and their families out of the sky was quite another.

Beyond that, though, he thought of Lira. If she had been recalled, then she must have faced some sort of punishment. The Gaians had no more tolerance for traitors than his own people did. Was she now sitting in a brig, awaiting court-martial? Had they executed her? His knowledge of Gaian methods of punishment was fuzzy at best. Had their roles been reversed, he would have been asked to make the cuts of sacrifice on his wrists and offer his life as compensation for the shame he had brought on the fleet, on Stacia itself. But he did not think that was the Gaian way.

He cleared his throat. “And what of Captain Jannholm?”

A shrewd copper-hued glance from beneath the admiral’s heavy brows. “Made an impression, did she?”

Since he knew showing any concern for Lira’s fate would not meet with a favorable reception, Rast made the one reply he thought was safe. “We made a bargain, Excellency, and she comported herself honorably. It would be unfortunate if the Gaian command didn’t understand that she was trying to act in their best interests.”

“Well, apparently they didn’t see it that way. Our Intelligence operatives have reported that she was removed from command and discharged from the fleet.”

Odd that he should feel so relieved by the news of her disgrace…but that’s all it was. Disgrace, and only in the eyes of those too blind to see what she had really done. He knew she possessed more of a sense of honor than most in the Gaian fleet. She might be disgraced, and stripped of her rank, but at least she was alive. Alive, and apparently free to pursue her own fate, whatever that might be.

“And where is she now?”

The admiral almost smiled. “No one knows. She left her sector HQ and disappeared. But what does it matter? She’s gone, and Chlorae II is ours. And you, Captain sen Drenthan, are now the commanding officer in charge of the defense force at Syrinara.”

It was a promotion, and an enviable one. Syrinara was the fifth planet from the sun in the Stacian system, and the first one colonized and terraformed after the Stacians adopted the technology the Eridanis had given them, using it to escape their home world’s harsh conditions. On Syrinara, which had a milder climate and the refreshing novelty of actual oceans, much of the food that supplied Stacia and its fleet was grown. Besides being assigned to Stacia itself, Rast could not think of a more desirable promotion, one that put him in line to move even further up the chain of command.

“You honor me, Excellency,” Rast said at once. He knew a swift acknowledgment of the honor he had been given was the best way to please the admiral.

“I thought you’d be happy. So come, share a drink with me and seal the deal. And, Captain — ”

“Yes, Excellency?”

“Forget her. She has served her purpose.”

“Of course,” Rast replied automatically, although he knew it was not quite so simple as that. No, it would be some time before he could completely erase the thought — and feel, and taste — of Lira Jannholm from his mind.

And at the moment, he wasn’t sure what troubled him more…that he could still taste her on his tongue, or the niggling sense at the back of his mind that the admiral was playing a far larger game than Rast could begin to imagine.

Jupiter’s red eye glared down from the heavens as Lira debarked from the shuttle and made her way through the domes of the Ganymede base.

What was that old saying?

Home is the place that where you go, they have to take you in.

Of course, no one ever said that the people at home had to be exactly enthusiastic about welcoming you back into the fold…

No one had offered to come and meet her, and she hadn’t asked. She didn’t have much to bring with her anyway — just two suitcases of sleek composite, one of which was only half full. Ships’ captains didn’t have that much in the way of personal belongings, or at least GDF captains didn’t. She’d left her uniforms behind, and her civilian clothing and other personal items made for a meager enough collection. Well, it made traveling that much easier, although being crammed in the economy-class stateroom she had shared with another woman traveling alone brought home more than anything else the realization that she was not a ship’s captain anymore.

She was no one.

Everything around her looked more or less the same, and yet subtly different from the last time she had seen it, some five years ago. She supposed it was she who had changed, and not the base on Ganymede.

The base was a mixture of above-ground domes and miles of subterranean facilities. Because her parents held high-level positions — her mother a botanist overseeing one of the greenhouse facilities that grew food for the colony, her father on the committee that handled the day-to-day management of the base — they lived in a complex in Dome 3, near the moon’s equator. No one had bothered terraforming Ganymede; it was too far outside the habitable band to make such an endeavor economically feasible, so the atmosphere was a thin trace of various oxygen compounds too toxic to support human life.

Through the domes the stars still shone, bright pinpricks she could remember gazing at every day of her childhood. They were the spurs that led her outward into the greater galaxy. No staying here on Ganymede or even the Gaian system as a whole — she’d wanted up and out, and as soon as possible. Not much to feel homesick for here, as she’d always had the vague impression that her parents had had children more because it had been expected of them than because they’d actually wanted them. True, they were proud of her acceptance to the university on Eridani at barely sixteen, her expedited track at the naval academy, her early appointment to captain, since those were the sorts of accomplishments that they could trot out at cocktail parties.

She had a feeling they weren’t quite as proud now.

Not that she’d gone into any great detail about what had happened, but word had a way of getting around, even with the light-years that separated Gaia’s far-flung colonies and bases. All Lira could hope was that people only knew she’d done something so dreadful she’d been drummed out of the GDF. Tough as she wanted to believe she was, she really didn’t want to explain what she’d been thinking when she shared a bed with a Stacian. She could only imagine the revulsion on the faces of her parents or her old acquaintances and classmates if the whole sordid story ever came out. Beyond her tawdry liaison with Rast sen Drenthan, though, the deaths of the colonists weighed heavily on her, their stilled voices a reproachful murmur at the back of her mind. Yes, she’d only been trying to ensure their safety, but that hardly mattered now.

Dome 3 consisted mainly of residential units, occasionally broken up by an eating establishment, shop, or pub. Not too many of those, of course. It wouldn’t do to have the populace tempted by too much drink. Just enough to give the semblance of someplace to rest and unwind, although the alcohol served on Ganymede was carefully lowered in potency so it couldn’t cause too much trouble. She still remembered the first time she’d had a glass of undiluted wine at the university on Eridani — she’d barely been able to walk afterward.

Her parents had a spacious end unit that occupied two levels. As Lira approached the entrance, her steps gradually slowed. Something in her very much wanted to turn and run, to take her meager savings and go someplace where no one had ever heard of Lira Jannholm, disgraced starship captain. But she wouldn’t be that kind of coward. No, she’d face whatever might come next with her head held high. Perhaps she had made a dreadful mistake in going to Rast sen Drenthan, but it had been a mistake born of a desire to ensure the safety of Chlorae II, not for any personal gain. Her intentions had been good.

And we all know what’s paved with those good intentions
, she thought, then shook her head.

Better to get this over with. She paused at the door, set down one suitcase, then reached out with her free hand to push the buzzer.

He should have been completely satisfied. His new ship, the
Tarlentha
, was newly commissioned, sleek and elegant and with captain’s quarters that would have pleased a man with far more extravagant tastes than he. The promotion brought with it an extra measure of respect; it was clear the admiral favored Captain sen Drenthan, and his new crew were far more obsequious than his former shipmates, who had tended to be a rowdy bunch. This group ran a tight ship, but Rast had the feeling he would miss the easier companionship on board the
Brensa
before too much time passed.