it away. "Just take some time for yourself. You've earned it."
The tenderness in his words shocked her. Wouldn't? Wouldn't what, Staffa? Want to lose me? Her thoughts reeled as she rubbed her palm where his skin had touched hers.
Staffa turned, as if embarrassed, and paced back across the screen. "And as to the envoys who come begging, tell them no. It would be too easy to be manipulated into facing another Companion."
"As far as the administration of the Companions, you all know the contingency plans. Some of you will find supplemental instructions on your private comms.
"And me, I've already left to taste some fleshpots, buy some rugs, drink some ale, and sire some bastard brats. Not only that, I've never been fishing. I am going fishing. I hear the white sharks make an incredible challenge to a rod and reel on Riparious. We're all rich. Let's enjoy some of it for a while." He shook a finger. "But don't get fat! We're not stuffed Sassan maggots, and we'll have to go back to work in a year or two — so keep your skills up. I'll be back if anything looks threatening. So expect me!" The holo went blank.
Stunned silence.
A verbal avalanche rushed at her with everyone talking.
"Quiet! One at a time." Skyla hollered as she got to her feet.
Tasha stood up, a mountain of muscular flesh. He tugged at his ragged gray beard with a scarred hand, his single black eye searching faces. He pursed his lips and swallowed. "It is my studied opinion that we heed Staffa's advice. He's right about my flower bed. He's right about our money. What good is it to be a rich man if I don't spend it before I die?"
Ryman Ark got to his feet next, a fist on his belt as he gestured with his other hand. "Not only that, but I think Staffa's right about the political situation. Face it, Sassa's in ruins. Rea is ready to collapse from its own weight. They went too far too fast. I could see us going to war, losing a couple of ships and a lot of good people, and finding out there was no one left to pay us. No, Staffa makes sense. In a couple of years, the empires will have stabilized.
As long as they have each other to face, they'll have an incentive to compete. and we all know what that brings. In the meantime, we can make a financial killing while they buy battle computers and build ships. We might suck in
some new technology, too, through their innovations. I say we tell them we aren't interested."
One by one they stood and spoke: The consensus was the same.
Skyla collected herself and motioned to be heard. "Very good Companions." She gave them a predatory smile she didn't feel. "I'll go break the news to that fat Sassan and that hungry Regan bitch. I think we'll have more than enough entertainment around here when they go home to tell His Holiness and the Imperial Seventh that we're not playing this round."
They all laughed.
"All right, I guess that's it for now, people." She waved them toward the door, calling, "Tasha? Tap? Could I see you for a moment in my quarters?"
On the way out, Skyla heard Amrat saying, "White shark fishing? Sounds like my quaff of ale. If it's good enough for Staffa, I'll give it a try."
Riparious was going to be deluged by fishermen looking for eighty foot sharks.
Tap and Tasha fell in behind Skyla as she stepped into the corridor. The Lord Commander, as usual, had touched each of them with his usual genius.
"There's only one thing I can't figure," Tasha was saying. "This business of going off by himself, that's not like Staffa."
"What's he going to do about security, Skyla?" Tap asked. "He say anything special to you?"
"Let's get to my quarters, gentlemen. There are Sassan and Regan ears on Itreata."
"They couldn't get an ear up here." Tap protested.
"Maybe," Skyla said. "But I wouldn't underestimate Ily Takka. Call it woman's intuition."
By the time she led them into her private quarters, both Tap and Tasha looked as wary as hunted bears. Palming the latch to close her door, she turned and crossed her arms over her chest.
"Tap? Tasha? Staffa's in trouble — and we've got to help
him. This entire operation has to be handled with discretion and finesse. As soon as the empires realize he's alone and vulnerable, without Companion protection, what lengths do you think they'll go to get their hands on him?"
"Rotted Gods!" Tasha whispered. "Has the Lord Commander taken leave of his senses?"
Skyla jerked a short nod. "You might say that — and the first thing I've done is put extra security on Professor Sornsen. I'm making the records about what the Praetor did to Staffa available to you — eyes only. Now, gentlemen, we'd better get to work. This might well be the most important mission we've ever tackled. We've got to find Staffa without tipping anyone that we're looking for him — and find him before anyone else does."
Cold fury settled like a web over Ily Takka's thoughts. While she fumed, a second part of her mind found the irritation amusing. To put it simply, she wasn't used to waiting on anyone! Let alone a barbaric mercenary.
To calm herself, she fingered the badge of authority Tybalt had given her. Unlimited power — second only to the Imperial Seventh's — came from that small metal standard bearing the Imperial jessant-de-lis escutcheon of Rega. With it, she could command fleets, destroy worlds, to the point that her word became Rega's. Just the touch of that token of authority sent a shiver of anticipation through her.
She entered the small conference room and hesitated when she found the repugnantly obese body of Myles Roma — Legate for that simpering homosexual Sassan selfproclaimed god — had already seated himself. Worse, his people crowded all around. Somehow, they made way for her. She knew her eyes flashed with anger as she took the second seat — next to the Sassan. A third, obviously Staffa's, stood empty on the other side of the table. Her people attempted to crowd into the already stuffed room, creating pandemonium.
At that juncture, a cleverly disguised door behind the table opened and Wing Commander Skyla Lyma stepped out. A sudden quiet filled the room. The shuffling, cursing, and open threats between Sassan and Regan vanished.
The Wing Commander cleared her throat. "I think if the various aides would be so kind as to clear the room, I can handle the business at hand with the two delegates." And she stood, back stiff, blue-violet eyes impassive.
Ily caught her anger just before it exploded. She burned a look of disgust into the fat Sassan and turned. "I'm not sure the Sassan Legate is capable
of dealing with the Companions on his own, but I am. If my people would follow the Wing Commander's request?"
One cool stare from her black eyes and they seemed to evaporate from the cramped quarters. Ily turned her frigid gaze on the Legate and raised an eyebrow.
Myles Roma swallowed nervously. He wrung his hands and ooked up at the Wing Commander. "This is most unusual! I must protest! In the first place we came to speak with the Lord Commander. In the second, we are here to conduct private negotiations. You would have me discuss business before this. this house spy — and without my staff?"
Skyla Lyma had crossed her arms. Her stare — Ily could appreciate it — should have melted the blubbery white worm.
To make gain from this strategic setback ly said, "I was candid Wing Commander. I can handle myself. If the Legate truly needs so many to—"
"Out!" Roma cried, waving a pudgy hand at his entourage.
Ily narrowed her eyes in triumph. Yes, handling this insipid lard-thing would be ike cutting hot fat with a molecular wire.
Amid squeals, groans, and complaints, the Sassan herd departed. Skyla extended an arm to lightly touch the wall and the door slid closed. Ily noticed the sudden discomfort the Sassan displayed as his eyes — sunk deep in their fat— considered the possible implications. Fool! Did he think the Companions guaranteed no security to diplomats in conference?