"Magister?" an Initiate called, coming from the cavern. "It is the Mag Comm, Magister. It calls for you,"
"It is going to ask about the girl." Hyde sighed and spat into the darkness. "I wish we hadn't informed it we were giving Arta to Butla."
"Yes, I suppose so," Bruen grunted, gaze still on the black sky where the aircar had vanished.
Hyde's faded eyes studied Bruen carefully. "You care too much for her Brother."
"Yes."
"You act as if you have just lost a daughter instead of a—"
Bruen lifted a tired hand, cutting Hyde's rattly voice off. "A daughter yes. That's exactly what she was. And tell me,
Hyde, how should I feel sending her off to become a tool of revolution? I'm sacrificing a child I love."
"It's war, Bruen," Hyde's answer came gruffly followed by a short spell of hacking. "If you haven't committed yourself to fight, you've served us poorly."
Bruen painfully lowered his eyes from the horizon. "No, old friend, I serve you well. But a man would expect some calluses to have formed on his soul by now. Instead of getting easier, this dispatching of youth becomes ever harder."
"The machine is waiting. What will you tell it?"
Bruen lifted a shoulder. "A version of the truth, Brother. And a bit of a lie."
Hyde rasped a breath into his lungs and shuffled for the portal. "I hope, for all our sakes, you can continue to mask your lies, Bruen. I've begun to worry about you."
"Because of the girl?" He followed Hyde's steps, wishing his hip didn't always hurt so.
"Yes."
Bruen nodded to himself. Indeed, I am a crotchety old fool, carried away with pathetic sentimentality for a psychological time bomb I myself have helped to program. And now the machine waits? Ah, indeed, Great One, our machinations knit in a deeper weave.
I miss her. It hurts.
Let the machine Deity cope with that. The Mag Comm never could understand or deal with emotion. Such illogical sorrow should confuse pustulant hell out of that soulless cybernetic beast.
Chapter 8
Skyla twisted her long thick braid around her wrist as she read the reports at her personal comm. Vanished. And not a single security system had been breached. As the comm tech had said Staff a might have simply stepped into a different dimension.
Her gaze went, unbidden, to the comm screen where the Ashtan CV rested so innocently against the dock. Staffa had disappeared just before the vessel discharged the pharmacy supplies and pushed out. She could find no evidence of tampered security. She chuckled dryly. "Why should that surprise me? It's his system."
"Wing Commander!" a breathless voice blurted over comm. "Will you please come quickly. We have a message from the Lord Commander. It was placed in time delay. He orders that all command grade officers assemble in the C section briefing room."
Skyla left at a run, hardly aware that her long braid bounced unrestrained behind her.
She slid into the briefing room, among the first to arrive, eyes immediately glued to the image of Staffa where he dominated the screen. His new beard glistened blackly on his cheeks and the light shimmered on his immaculate gray combat armor while his weapons belt looked freshly shined. He had pulled his straight black hair over his left ear, clasped by the usual jeweled hair clip. His expression seemed unusually calm.
When the last command officer, Septa Aygar, of the Simva Ast pounded through the door, the babble of conversation died.
Skyla nodded to the tech who ran the program.
Staffa smiled and gestured with his hand for them to be seated. "My loyal officers," he began in a soft voice, "I
have undoubtedly caused some strained nerves and anguished moments by leaving this on time delay. However, I did so with good reason." The smile widened lustily. "I know you all too well. I needed time to allow the dust to settle… or I'd have all of you rushing to join me." The holo raised a hand. "Not that I'd mind your company, my loyal Companions, but this once, I want to be by myself."
He frowned and paced across the screen, then raised his head, gaze serious. "Soon, my Companions, you will be beset by the envoys of the Regan and Sassan Empires. Each will attempt to outbid the other for our services to establish one or the other as the supreme government of Free Space. Each wishes to be the ultimate power within the Forbidden Borders.
"I've given this no little thought. In fact, over the years, I have been more than aware of, and even helped devise, this final balance of power."
He paused to stroke his chin. "If you look at Free Space, it forms a rough pentahedron — barring the curve of spacetime. Almost half of this we have helped hand to the Regan Empire. The other half we've managed to put in the palms of the Sassans. Our Itreatic Asteroids and the Twin Titans make only a pyramidal corner neatly bordering both imperial spheres of activity.
"And it remains all out of proportion. Two lions, my commanders, and one little mouse. Or so it would seem from the comparative amounts of territory and resources. How odd, then, that you will soon have both lions growling at each other while they wheedle to get the mouse's favor, eh?" His smile turned wicked.
Subdued nervous laughter staccatoed in the room.
"But we are the true strength in Free Space. And I'm not sure that we should meddle any further for the time being. Consider, my friends. Each of the empires is staggered by war. The Sassans have bled their worlds dry. The Regans— economically suffering to pay off their debts — have alienated their people and revolution brews.
"It is my considered opinion, therefore, that we have nothing to gain, at this juncture, by joining either side. The final conflict would, in my eyes, bring nothing but a dark age of anarchy." He lifted a finger. "And where, good commanders, would we spend our pay? Who would buy our
computers, our ceramics, or our metals if all the economies were broken and shattered?"
Skyla could see somber nods around the room.
"Nor is that the only consideration." Staffa continued pacing, hands clasped behind him, head down in thoughtful pose. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm tired. I want to take some time off and relax."
Staffa braced his feet. "People, I've watched our performance. There have been too many close calls in the last couple of years. If we do decide to choose sides, I want us all in top form, with fresh minds and reflexes. A hasty judgment now could lead to disaster. I want you all to think about where we're going, and what the future brings. I need you to give me your best thoughts — and you can't do that while you're exhausted."
Skyla frowned to herself. That wasn't the plan, Staffa. The idea was to turn quickly, to consolidate all of Free Space into one empire while they were off balance. What the hell has gotten into you? But she knew.
He propped hard fists on his hips and laughed from deep in his belly as he swung around to face them. "We've stabilized it all, now let's take a year or so and see how things work out. Tasha, how long has it been now that you've pestered me because your garden gets started, you get flowers about to bud, and we're off to war for a few hundred Titan revolutions? Septa, you complain your children are strangers. Take some time and beat some obedience into that boy of yours. If he skips much more school, he'll never be able to fly a mining tug out of a shuttle hangar. Ryman, I know for a fact you piddle with a new power generating theory in your off-time aboard ship. Work on it now. I authorize any assistance you need from the labs."
As if Staffa knew where she'd be standing, his gaze met hers. "Skyla," that warm voice soothed her, "you've borne the brunt for too long. I've seen the weariness in your eyes. Take some time for yourself and relax. By the Rotted Gods, you've been the glue that holds us together." He paused and his voice softened. "I don't like the tension I see in you these days. Let the governing council handle the administration for a while You've had too many close calls. I wouldn't. " Her heart skipped as he smiled and waved