War Games Part 6

On a whim.

Koul dressed in a pair of loose field trousers, but kept his feet and chest bare. Barring an emergency, he had the rest of the evening to relax. Padding back to his anteroom, he locked the door and settled into a chair behind his desk.

Activating his console, he scanned the timestamps and sender identifications for the latest message from his wife, sighing when there wasn't one forthcoming.

It was approaching Spring Festival on his home planet. Taelsa had probably taken the children to visit her parents. He missed his children. And he missed his stubborn, beautiful, aristocratic wife. She, who had the pick of men paying court to her, had instead chosen a young career officer to make her life's mate, much to the angry disappointment of her parents.

It was because of Taelsa that he had volunteered for the Menon campaign. He knew what she had to endure because of him. He despised the open scorn his in-laws heaped on him purely because he was a man of humble beginnings and, without him around, they took out their frustrations on their daughter. She tried to gloss over the facts when she sent him a letter, but he knew all the players too well to be deceived by her casual comments. The only way he could exact revenge for their behaviour, short of killing them all in swift strokes, was by being a success. Promotion to General. Perhaps even a junior seat at Central Control. And when he achieved such prominence on a galactic scale, not merely the planetary pond her parents so condescendingly played in, he would exact revenge.

For now, however, it was still too painful to travel home on leave. Pain in seeing what his family had to endure and pain in his inability to do anything about it. In her parents' eyes, he was still little more than the inexperienced captain who had wedded their rich daughter. The fact that he was now second-in-command to the most vital territory on the planet meant little to them. They wanted t.i.tles, nothing less. And he had made a vow not to return home until he had that t.i.tle in his hand. And when he did, he'd shove it down their throats so hard....

Koul was brought back to the present by the sensation of his fingernails digging into the flesh of his palm. Slowly, he unclenched his fist and looked down at the crescent-shaped imprints embedded in his hand.

But there was nothing he could do about the situation if Sie remained in command. Under orders from certain factions of Central Control, he couldn't even transfer away to a different territory. Every second Sie remained was one more second Taelsa and the children had to endure the scorn of her parents.

His thoughts turned back to Yinalna.

Why had she helped him at Bul-Guymem? He thought Yinalna was soft and ineffective, but she had shown a surprising edge during the exercise.

In contrast, he hadn't been fooled by Sie. By the chats with her new driver. Their cosy walks around the camp's inner perimeter. All this time, he had been looking for a hint of impropriety between her and her adjutant, when it was more a question of gender than looks. On an intellectual level, Koul really didn't care about her personal proclivities. But the Empire did.

Was evidence of such an abomination enough to destroy an otherwise promising career? Perhaps. But Koul had to make sure he made his plan airtight. A mere suspicion of impropriety was not enough. The Colonel's record was spotless. Koul had pored over it enough times to have the major entries seared into his brain. He'd get no help from that quarter. And Swonnessy was as clean as he was loyal. Maybe he could get more ammunition from Yinalna herself?

First thing in the morning, he decided, he would put a rush on the lieutenant's detailed record. Maybe then it might take only weeks for the paperwork to get to him, rather than the usual few months. There might be something in her record he could exploit. There had to be. But, for now, there was little else to do but relax.

He put his feet up on the desk, nudging aside the pennant with his toes, and leant back in his chair. Waiting for the morning.

Chapter Six.

Day 1,507 of the War: Where was Koul when she needed him?

Cheloi ignored the tremor of her fingers as she fastened the b.u.t.ton on her tunic's collar and gave her hair one last cursory brush. There was no reason to be nervous. It was just dinner. So Rumis was on three-day leave and Koul was settling down to drink serious amounts of alcohol with his friend, Wakor. So what?

This was only going to be the first time she had dinner alone with her aide. What was there to worry about? She had been dropped into raging fire-zones, had to crawl through rough terrain with one broken leg, execute people at point-blank range, all without batting an eyelid. So why was her throat suddenly dry and her hands shaking? Was it because she was finally going to spend some personal time with someone she'd been watching for days? Someone who made her heart beat a little faster every time she caught sight of her?

Cheloi frowned at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She should try thinking of something else, something that would help her focus.

Like the exercise at Bul-Guymem three days ago.

Her hands stilled.

She had seen a different Lith Yinalna that afternoon. The loss of the pennant (again) was a minor incident next to the memory of Lith's face. There was horror, determination, even a touch of anger, but none of the wariness she was used to. Why? Why the change during the exercise? Had her aide finally come to some agreement with Koul?

Cheloi closed her eyes and took a breath. Here she was, questioning and re-questioning motivations while still lacking hard evidence to prove anything either way. Perhaps it was high time she left the business and let the Fusion use younger, harder individuals to carry out its secret aims. Despite what she had told Copan so flippantly, it didn't feel like a game any more. She was starting to take things a little too personally, second-guess herself too much. Perhaps this was something she could mention during their next session.

The decision made, a strategy plugged neatly away in her brain, Cheloi felt once more in control. One more time, she checked her clothing then walked out of her quarters to the commander's dining-room a few doors down the corridor.

It would have been nice to see an encroaching dusk through clear windows or watch the effects of breeze wisps as they rattled through the needle-shaped leaves of the dry-climate trees. Instead, she was stuck underground.

No matter. With any luck, maybe even within the year, she might be able to end all this and head home.

Cheloi was surprised to see Lith already present when she arrived. For the first time she noticed how cosy the room was, with its curved walls, small oval timber table and four matching chairs. The rectangular serving-table, nestled against a panel of sc.r.a.ped earth, closed the s.p.a.ce even more, its timber sheen contributing to an air of welcoming intimacy.

"Lieutenant," she greeted, and deliberately pinned a small impersonal smile on her face, "I hope you had a pleasant day?"

"It was busy, but pleasant," Lith replied, sliding her gaze away. Her hands were clenched in front of her body, as if she was trying to stop them from doing something. The atmosphere was fraught, which was not what Cheloi wanted at all, but she couldn't think of a way to break through the tension. She wanted to relax and appreciate the sound and look of her aide. Meanwhile, the object of her gaze looked as though she was about to be thrown into a pit of lava.

The door buzzed and two orderlies entered with a range of dishes. Lith focused on them as if grasping at a lifeline, giving Cheloi the freedom of scanning her aide's hair and the variety of blonde tones that overlaid each other before being severely constrained and clipped back. The strands looked like spun metal, perfect and s.h.i.+ning.

"Would you like some wine, Senior Colonel?" an orderly asked.

"Yes, why not?" It was only regulation, low-alcohol wine, but it suited the scene.

And what scene is that? The seduction of my driver?

The two gla.s.ses were filled and, with quick salutes, the two young men left.

Cheloi sat first, as was only proper, then Lith. In order to impose symmetry, the table had been set at the two narrow ends, where Cheloi could watch every nuance flitting over Lith's face without getting distracted by her intoxicating scent.

"So tell me," Cheloi asked as she expertly flicked open the intricately-folded serviette and laid it across her lap, "what do you think of being stationed here at HQ?"

Lith unfolded her own napkin with more deliberation. "Sometimes, at night, I can feel the vibrations from exploding sh.e.l.ls. They get quite close, don't they?"

Cheloi nodded while casting her gaze over the dishes on offer. "We're in a sheltered position here, but the rebels set up random barrages trying to find us." The noodle-based accompaniment looked particularly tempting this evening. "The Nineteen's position on a land-bridge means we don't have many options regarding where we can site our headquarters. Unfortunately, that makes us more vulnerable."

She heard her own voice, sounding stiff and wooden. Discouraged, she settled into silence. Only the clink of cutlery and the sc.r.a.pe against dishes broke the quiet.

"Why are you here?" The question from Lith was sudden. "Why are ywe making war on these people?"

Ah.

Cheloi, still in the middle of placing some food on her plate, looked over at her. The steam s.h.i.+mmered Lith's features, emphasising the sadness in those large hazel eyes. She knew in that moment that Lith had nothing to do with Koul. Because Koul, and everyone a.s.sociated with him, knew exactly why they were here on Menon and were rabid in their enthusiasm for the war and its objectives.

Suddenly, in the s.p.a.ce of a heartbeat, her entire world changed. If Lith could ask such a dangerous question, if she wasn't allied with her treacherous second-in-command in any way, was the way open to further intimacy? Dare Cheloi grab the opportunity that was presented to her?

She put the serving spoon back on its rest and placed her plate on the table in front of her.

"That's a very provocative question, Lieutenant," she replied, her tone mild. "It would be grounds for treason in some of the other territories, or even in other sectors of this territory." She ate a forkful of food. "Are you asking for a history lesson? Or is it more about my personal motivations?"

"Every Perlim who's fighting the war is a volunteer," Lith said. "I know that much, just as I know why I'm here. I was wondering why you were, Colonel?"

It was an impudent question, no doubt about it, but it tickled Cheloi's sense of humour.

"I'm good at what I do," she explained without rancour. "It's how I live my life. So my masters sent me here to complete a mission and I'm doing that to the best of my ability."

"I see." She paused for a second. "So it's just a job for you?"

"I'm a career officer. This is my career."

Lith took a sip of wine and Cheloi watched her throat as she swallowed, the slight undulation as the liquid coursed down to her stomach.

"But what about the deaths?"

Cheloi shrugged. "Every Perlim soldier is a volunteer, as you say. They know that war is a b.l.o.o.d.y business. n.o.body forced them to join up."

A part of her wondered why Lith had requested a.s.signment on Menon if she was so ambivalent about the campaign. There were many other options for young military officers throughout the galaxy without being nailed down on a hostile backward planet along one of the Empire's thin fingers of territory. The old suspicious Cheloi would have dug into this a bit deeper, but the new Cheloi was intoxicated on the potential of Lith's presence. She realised with a start that she was prepared to overlook a lot, perhaps more than she should, in order to slake her thirst.

Lith was persistent. "But what about the people on this planet, the ma.s.sacres that have taken place...."

She meant, of course, Sab-Iqur, or events very much like it. Would the name of that village end up pursuing Cheloi across the galaxy, screaming vengeance in her ears every night? It was that thought that made her voice a little brusque.

"I have my orders, Lieutenant, just as you do."

"Of course," the junior officer replied quickly, dropping her eyes. "I understand."

The conversation moved to general topics after that, but Cheloi's focus was sharp.

Lith's eyes were wide and bright, darting often to her dinner partner across the table, her dark eyelashes fanning seduction. There was a flush along her cheekbones, a hot invitation. She tried to hide it, to keep the self-conscious waver from her voice, but the effort was futile, as if she was straining to keep back a tide of water with a wall made of tissue paper.

Lith didn't want to like her. Didn't want to feel this attraction. Whatever the reasons, the outward signs of a fierce internal battle were obvious, and Cheloi watched them closely as she ate. What would happen if one of those restraints broke? If sheer determination wasn't enough to hold back the chemistry between them? Would the resulting conflagration consume them both?

Something along the same lines must have occurred to Lith, because she finished her meal with hurried gulps and stood up abruptly.

"Thank you, Senior Colonel. I should go."

And she made a move towards the door. Towards Cheloi.

There were so many reasons why it was a bad idea to pursue beautiful Lith Yinalna. It would put the equivalent of a loaded weapon right in Koul's hands. It was bad policy to fraternise with people under one's command. It would dent her credibility as a military commander. It might distract her at a critical moment. It might destroy her cover and end up killing her.

There was only one reason why it was a good idea. It wasn't because she was lonely. It wasn't because she yearned for the touch of flesh against flesh. It wasn't because commanding entire battalions to their deaths, eliminating whole communities, was ripping her to shreds.

It was simply because she wanted to.

That want drove her out of her chair almost as fast as Lith, stopping the woman before she cleared the length of the table. The food, the wine, was forgotten.

"I...." Cheloi tried to find the right words. Failed.

Lith licked her pink-brown lips, making the fullness glisten. Cheloi could breathe in her scent, a slight floral note interlaced with the clean musk from her skin, overlaid with the aroma of young, red wine. They were only centimetres apart....

There was time enough to pull back, something deep inside told Cheloi, time to retreat from a commitment she might later regret. The seed of doubt took hold, tugging her away from the brink, just as the vibrations from a detonating sh.e.l.l hit them. It must have been close, because even the table rattled, knocking the cutlery and plates against each other with metallic clatters. Lith was thrown forward.

And, with her arms now full, Cheloi had no choice but to kiss her.

To finally touch someone, to feel warm living skin beneath one's fingers, against one's lips, was wonderful. Cheloi felt Lith stiffen then yield to the embrace.

Cheloi breathed deep, savouring the myriad scents that comprised Lith. Her perfume, the slight fragrance of shampoo rising from stroked hair, dusty perspiration, and the unique enveloping smell of her. She heard the smallest groan, as if pulled reluctantly from the depths of Lith herself then, to her surprise, Lith took the initiative. Holding Cheloi's face in both hands, she returned the kiss deeply and pa.s.sionately.

Cheloi suppressed a sigh when Lith pulled away. Their eyes locked, bitter chocolate against warm caramel. Both of them were breathing heavily, but the lieutenant's face registered shock. Cheloi wanted to calm her, stroke her cheek and rea.s.sure her, but she was too slow. Without a word, the junior officer tore her hands away, wrenched herself from Cheloi's embrace and fled the room, leaving the commander to lean unseeing against the wall, thumping the earth with a half-clenched fist.

What have I done what have I done what have I done!

Lith locked the door to her quarters with a trembling hand and collapsed against the solid panel, boneless.

"What have I done?" she whispered aloud.

She had known of Rumis' and Grakal-Ski's absence from dinner that night. She should have thought up an excuse herself. She knew it would be only her and the Colonel in a small enclosed s.p.a.ce. Her and the woman who was coming to dominate more of her waking thoughts. Her and the woman who appeared so self-contained and impervious...yet displayed a touching vulnerability at times.

"I had to tempt fate," she muttered. "I had to act tough."

She stopped, cast a panicked look at the door and silently swore, afraid that the Colonel would pursue her to her quarters. She moved away and sank onto the edge of her bed.

So many thoughts swirled through her head. Too many.

Nils.

What would he say? He and Lith were sometime lovers as well as being co-conspirators. They had met when Lith was breaking up with her lover at the time. A woman. While the relations.h.i.+p with Onu had been pleasant, Lith felt life had slipped into schedule. It had become boring and predictable. Stifling.

Not that her parents minded the split. Being old-school Perlim, they tried hard to accept the open s.e.xuality of their daughter, but couldn't. Women pairing with men was the natural order of things. Women pairing with women was something they considered to be a Fusion aberration. For their daughter to do both...! When, a couple of years ago, Onu drifted out of Lith's life and Nils drifted in, they couldn't hide their relief.

If only they knew. It was her connection with Nils, not the more bombastic Onu, that had put her on Menon IV. And now she was trading kisses with her enemy. What would Nils think of her, locked in an embrace with the notorious Perlim commander of Territory Nineteen? Sie was the person he despised above all others, blamed above all others for his own plight. She tried to bring Nils' image to mind. To remember his laughing amber eyes, a match to her own, slim athletic build and brown s.h.a.ggy hair....

Lith shook her head. It wouldn't come. All she could think about was- The Colonel.

What insanity made her think she could control the obvious attraction that had sparked between them? She had been doomed from the second she stood up and faced the Nineteen's commander, from the moment she realised it was a sentient being she was dealing with and not the monstrous construct she had imagined.

What Cheloi Sie had wakened in her was an inferno next to what she had felt for Onu. Or Nils.

It was Sie's eyes, with their lambent hint of sombre melancholy, that melted her resistance; Sie's voice, dark and calm, that mesmerised her. Lith wanted to talk and laugh with Rumis, go drinking with him, play sport with him. But the one body she wanted in bed, naked next to hers, was the Colonel's.

Lith tried to hush the moan emerging from her throat but failed.

She had spent almost a year in preparation for this very position and had been more fortunate than even Nils had predicted. Drawn into the little group of refugee planners hiding in one small corner of the Fusion, she had agreed with their aims, and with the summation of the Perlim Empire as a brutal galactic anachronism. Their thought of the Perlim as a corrupt inst.i.tution was vindicated by the small bribes they paid to help set up Lith as a junior officer of the empire's Ground Forces. She spent six months training, practising and ridding herself of any Fusion-tainted accent, then she "volunteered" for the Menon campaign, working her way closer and closer to her target. Territory Nineteen. Even Nils, in their private moments together, had not expected such success.

And here she was.

She had studied Cheloi Sie in particular, memorising the Colonel's biography and military record, and she had studied the minute details of the Nineteen, Sie's command. It all seemed so straightforward that last week on Laeyek Omni B, where she and Nils had s.n.a.t.c.hed hurried moments of intimacy amid the final lecturing, briefings and bribes, hiding from both the Empire and the Fusion. And wasn't that the greatest irony of all? That the Fusion, who believed in equality and liberty for all, should be the one body who failed them.

It was all the Fusion's fault, Lith thought resentfully. If only the Lower Convergence had given some time to the pet.i.tions of the Free-Perlim Council, then she wouldn't be here, trying to contain her desire for an inappropriate woman. Was the Council ignored because they were only a few hundred strong in a galactic union of billions? Did their lack of size mean they didn't have the necessary credentials or connections? Whatever the reason, the dearth of any meaningful result regarding the rest of the wretched people still caught in the raptor's clench of the Perlim Empire caused Nils, ex-Perlim himself, to break from the rest of the hapless Council. If n.o.body else had the courage to even begin chipping away at the monstrous edifice, he declared dramatically, then he would. And he formed his own splinter group, with the one overriding objective of bringing down the Empire. Single-handedly if necessary.

Lith thought that was what she had fallen in love with. He spoke so convincingly that she believed every word that came out of his mouth. He told her that she was the obvious candidate to infiltrate the hated Empire and identified Menon IV as the best location for subversion. He informed her that as a junior officer, as well as being a woman and therefore invisible in the male-dominated Perlim military circles, she would be the perfect saboteur. All they needed was the perfect target.