Morgan's Choice (45 page)

She smiled at him and responded with a bow of
her own. And then he leaned over and kissed both her cheeks.
Unheard of.

The troopers in the Halycon applauded.

“Cleans up nice, doesn’t she, Chief?” Jag
said, a leer in his voice. “Even with that funny pale skin.”

“That she does. I reckon she and the admiral
might be quite close friends,” one of the women said. Her remark
drew some lewd chuckles.

“He sure was protective of her,” another
person remarked.

Protective of her? They spoke about the
admiral and the freak as if they knew them. Fear traced a finger
down his backbone. He had to get away from here.

“What’s the matter, Asbarthi? You look a bit
ill,” said Prakesh. His eyes held a malicious glint.

“Yes. Yes, I do feel a bit ill.” Asbarthi
clutched at his stomach. He did feel ill. “Best let me out for a
moment. I need some fresh air.”

“I’ll bet you do.” Prakesh’s lip curled.
“Look after him, lads. I’ll see if I can get to the admiral.”

****

The parade marched off, back to the makeshift
barracks. Ravindra exchanged a few more remarks with the new
commander of Zaffra Bay and the new planetary governor. Morgan
smiled and did the little neck bow and then it was time to go.

Ravindra’s guard cleared a path for them
through the press of journalists and well-wishers, his hand
reassuringly on her waist. She hated these functions, being the
center of attention. Ravindra stopped here and there, responding to
congratulations, best wishes and thank yous. Signs of devastation
littered the base. Not far away a pile of rubble marked where the
administration block used to be, the control tower had been
decapitated and rows of barracks still smoldered. The scent of
smoke lingered in the air. Away on the other side of the parade
ground a city of demountables stretched over the grass to house the
troops. They’d be working long and hard to repair all the damage.
Not a building was unscathed.

Someone pushing through the crowd caught her
eye, a trooper in combat camouflage. A guard stopped him. The
fellow was in animated conversation, persuading, pleading, glancing
up at them. Morgan listened in.

“Please, he’ll want to know. Tell him I’ve
got Asbarthi,” Prakesh said.

She caught the NCO’s eye, grinned and winked
at him. Then she leaned against Ravindra’s arm. “That’s Chief
Prakesh.” She jerked her head at where the NCO stood. “He says he
has Asbarthi.”

Ravindra stared at her, the smile wiped from
his face. “What? Where?”

“Let’s go and ask him.”

The crowd parted before Ravindra. Morgan
followed in his wake, straight to where Prakesh waited. Arrogant,
despotic autocrat. Every inch a leader, bent on revenge or justice
or maybe a bit of both. Could she find it in her heart to feel
sorry for Asbarthi? She didn’t think so.

Prakesh bowed. “
Srimana
. I have Asbarthi.”

“Chief. Fetch him here.”

Ravindra’s nostrils were flared, eyes
narrowed, mouth stretched in a semblance of a smile. Not triumph,
more anticipation. Somebody tried to ask a question. A jerk of his
hand and they shut up.

Prakesh, head held high, turned and gestured.
His squad marched forward, two of the troopers almost carrying
Asbarthi between them. They halted in front of Ravindra.

For a moment no one spoke. Such a fascinating
tableau. An admiral in white, full-dress uniform, a jubilant NCO in
combat dress and a grubby man in soiled clothes and scuffed high
boots, bedraggled lace at his throat and cuffs. Asbarthi
straightened himself and tried to stare Ravindra out but Morgan
tuned into the frantic drumbeat of his heart.

“
How nice to see you again,
Sur
Asbarthi.” Ravindra used that
cocktail party voice.

His lip curled in a sneer, Asbarthi
glowered at her. “
She
brought
them, didn’t she? Brought her alien friends? And you… you have been
ensnared in her—”

Ravindra laughed, arms folded over his
chest. “You weren’t listening, were you? Believe me, without her
you would be dead.” His grin was decidedly unpleasant. “And so
would I, of course.” He traced the scar on his cheek with his
finger. “I think I’ll let the good people of Krystor make up their
own minds about you. Have you met the new planetary governor?
Please meet
Sur
Ghoran.” He
directed a neck bow at the official wearing the yellow sash. “And
this is Admiral Uttar, the new commander of Zaffra Bay.

“
In fact, Admiral, you might be interested
in Chief Prakesh’s experience with
Sur
Asbarthi.” Ravindra gave a sharp nod, giving the NCO
permission to speak.

“You mean when we saw him murder Admiral
Gamesh and the other senior officers? And their wives and children?
Or at least, he was there when Commander Iniman had them shot.
They’re just out there, beyond the perimeter fence, thrown into a
pit like carrion.” Prakesh waved a hand.

Eyes narrowed, Admiral Uttar directed a
poisonous glance at Asbarthi.

“
Or when we met you and
Suri
Selwood in the jungle and got you into the base
here?”

“Yes, all of those things. I will leave
that,” he lifted a lip at Asbarthi, “in Governor Ghoran’s
hands.”

“
Take my adjutant to the site of these
murders, Chief. We can at least ensure the people are laid to rest
properly,” Uttar said.

Ghoran’s own staff hustled Asbarthi away.
Ravindra bowed to the governor and the base commander and escorted
Morgan to the shuttle waiting to take them back to
Vidhvansaka
. The
shuttle took off into still-smoky air and headed for
orbit.

“I thought you’d take Asbarthi for yourself.”
Morgan inspected her fingernails.

“I considered it. For a moment. But my
personal vendetta is less important than bringing peace to Krystor.
The people here deserve to know how Asbarthi and his cronies have
manipulated events. And you.” He was silent for a moment. Then he
chuckled. “Besides, I doubt if Ghoran’s people will be nice to
him.”

Chapter
Fifty-One

Moonlight on water. A rippling pathway of
brightness to the horizon where the disc of the full moon rose into
the sky. Morgan rested her elbows on the balcony and gazed over the
sea, the gentle susurrus of the waves below her an accompaniment.
The warm air barely moved. In the tree above her a few small
creatures rustled and chirped, settling for the night.

Ravindra came up behind her, put his arms
around her waist and nuzzled her neck. He was bare to the waist and
his hair was still damp from the shower.

“What are you thinking?” he said.

She leaned back against him, his smell in
her nostrils. “Oh, you, me, Artemis, the Cyber Wars, the Krystor
temple. Some people still say I brought the aliens, you
know.”

“Yes. That was why it was important for us to
appear together. But most have understood the truth.”

She looked up at the stars, bright enough
despite the competition from the two small moons. “We know
the
Yogina
came from
the same place I came from. But more and more I think your
ancestors did, too.”

He turned her around so he could see her
face, his pupils wide in the dim light. “You’ve thought more about
what you said to Artemis?”

“I’m guessing.”

“Then guess.”

“
Well, we know about Artemis. An MI sent to
prepare the way for people escaping the Cyber Wars.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Well... What if those two people in that
shrine were scientists, geneticists, trapped on some planet
somewhere in the Cyber Wars, like that Doctor Rosmenyo? They
decided to escape but a little more than that. They decided to
create a new sort of ‘human’.” She hooked her fingers around the
word human. “People who wouldn’t have wars. They’re idealists,
dreamers. So they create people who all look the same—dark skin,
black hair, no different shaped eyes or noses for people to argue
about. They like cats so they improve their creations with a few
feline characteristics like eyes and flexible spines, stronger
muscles. Remember the small cats in the shrine and the big cats
holding up the pillars in the cave? Your eyes look like cats’ eyes.
You can see better in dim light than humans, see some other
vibrations. And you’re faster and stronger and much more
sure-footed than we are.”

“Keep going.”

“Well, then they thought about all the other
reasons people fight. No jobs, no territory. So they created four
classes so everyone had a job, everyone fitted somewhere and made
it so those classes couldn’t mix. And got rid of some things they
didn’t like, such as homosexuality. Maybe some others we don’t know
about.”

“But we do fight. The Vesha and the Mirka, in
particular.”

“Mm. That was their biggest mistake, I think.
Business is so much like war. Companies compete for territory, take
each other over, fight to maintain advantage. Just not with weapons
that kill people. And I think the Mirka have a strong inclination
to protect, which the Vesha don’t seem to have. Or at least, from
what I’ve seen.”

He said nothing for a few moments,
considering her words, head bent. “But how did they get here? Were
they colony ships?”

“That I don’t know. But they could have used
a small ship carrying embryos. Maybe they left before Artemis. The
history of the Wars gets hazy the further back you go.”

He took her face in his hands and gazed into
her eyes. “Have you found your home, out there among the
stars?”

She smiled. “How could I have? What makes you
say that?”

“I saw the log Artemis showed you. Too fast
for me, perhaps. But not for you. You copied it, didn’t you?”

Yes, she had. A wave slipped up onto the
shore as he waited for a reply. “You know me too well.”

“That is how she got into your head.”

He was probably right. But she would never
know for sure.

“Well?” he asked, his voice a caress. “Have
you worked it out? From Krystor back to Andreena, from there to
Dilmar?”

She chuckled. She should have realized he’d
figure it out. “You’re a smart man, Admiral. I can work out the
distances and the route she took. But I don’t have three thousand
years.”

He leaned over her, so close she could feel
the puff of his breath. “Do you want to go home?”

She’d thought about that. But only briefly.
The answer was too obvious. “No. Home is where the heart is. And
mine is here.”

He kissed her, a tender brush of his lips on
hers. “I think it’s time we made love again.”

She let him lead her inside.
Yes Sir, three bags
full, Sir.

The End

About the Author

Greta van der
Rol loves writing science fiction with a large dollop of good old,
healthy romance. She lives not far from the coast in Queensland,
Australia and enjoys photography and cooking when she isn't bent
over the computer. She has a degree in history and a background in
building information systems, both of which go a long way toward
helping her in her writing endeavours.

http://www.gretavanderrol.com

More from This Author

THE IRON ADMIRAL: CONSPIRACY

Politics. Hatred. Star systems on the brink
of war.

A species under threat of extinction from a
deadly virus.

Ex-Admiral Chaka Saahren goes undercover to
discover the truth. Systems Engineer, Allysha Marten, takes one
last job to rid her of debts and her cheating husband. On Tisyphor,
deadly secrets about the past explode, as Allysha and the
undercover agent scramble to prevent the coming holocaust and
xenocide.

When the ex-Admiral’s identity is revealed,
she must come to terms with her feelings for a man she thinks
caused the death of innocent civilians, including her father.

In a race against time, Allysha must set
aside her conflicted emotions and trust a man she barely knows.
Saahren must convince the woman he loves to find the truth as he
once more assumes his position as … The Iron Admiral.

Available now from Smashwords and other fine
retailers.

Coming Soon
: The Saga Continues

THE IRON ADMIRAL: DECEPTION

Admiral Chaka
Saahren has his command back but he doesn't have Systems Engineer,
Allysha Marten. The terrible events on Tisyphor, and deadly secrets
about the past,

have systems
and cultures on the brink of a holocaust and xenocide.

Allysha doesn't
trust the Admiral, believing him guilty of heinous crimes. Saahren
connives to keep the woman he loves close, but she and the Admiral
are torn apart by competing factions. Trust is hard to come by when
all that exists are lies and misdirections. To save their worlds,
Allysha will have no choice but to turn to…
The Iron
Admiral
.

Greta van der Rol Does Historic Fiction Like
No Other

Discover
TO DIE A DRY DEATH

Shipwrecked on an unknown shore, their
greatest peril came from within.