Requiem for the Conqueror

Chapter 19

"She comes with me," Staffa insisted, arms crossed resolutely as they stood in the burning Etarian sands.

Ily lifted a questioning eyebrow. The Lord Commander wanted her, a work-toughened cock-pinch? The brownhaired slave woman was filthy — not that Staffa looked any cleaner. Ily could see a bruise healing on her cheek, and a man had obviously been sucking at her neck from the fading purple splotches. Why, she'd probably been had by every man in Etarus — and in every orifice! True, she exhibited a curious animal magnetism in the way the muscles rolled under that tanned flesh. Was she what he'd been screwing out here?

Ily took the time to get a good look at Staffa. He was dirty. Even in the dry hot air, his body reeked of sweat and his personal odor, unwashed these many days. The sun had blackened his skin and a wealth of old scars stood out pinkish-white along his massively muscled chest, shoulders, and arms. He, too, she noted, carried bruises — especially around his swollen throat. His eyes never left hers, measuring and wary, suspicious of her next move. He kept the override box gripped tightly in his battered hand.

Ily experienced a slight flush as she met those gray eyes. Here, by the Rotted Gods, stood a man! She looked on a feral male, one she could respect. Nevertheless, he had changed. The haughty arrogance had vanished to be replaced by something else, some dangerous cunning coupled with an unnamed anguish. What had the cursed Warden done to him?

"Very well, Lord Commander, you may bring her. But what, pray tell, will you do with her?" Ily gestured for the aircar, aware of Tyklat's spongelike attention. He hadn't missed a word, not a single nuance. A very bright young

man, this Tyklat. He would have to be used carefully — and watched vigilantly.

Ily heard Staffa say to the woman, "I made you a promise. I can't change the past… no matter how much I would like to. I also gave you my word that I would free you if I could."

Ily speculated as the slave woman shrank from Staffa's touch and climbed unevenly to her feet. She walked suspiciously toward the approaching aircar, silent, ignoring Staffa who still stood there with a dumb misery in his eyes. Most interesting! The Lord Commander could be hurt through this woman. Who was she? How could she be used?

Ily reached for Staffa's hand and almost jerked back. His flesh felt like wood! She noted the scabs where they had cracked and sand now caked the coagulated blood. "Come, Staffa, a cool shower and clean clothes await you. We will discuss our business, and then you may be free to go."

His deadly gray eyes met hers and he nodded, voice raspy as he said, "After you Minister," and gestured, his long black hair flipping and twisting barbarically in the searing wind.

Tyklat took the front seat next to the slave woman. Ily switched on the privacy shield as the vehicle rose from the swirling sand. She analyzed Staffa's slit-eyed stare as they rose over the pile of corpses pulled from the collapsed dune. For a split second, she caught a glimmer of rage in his expression as he looked down at the long length of pipe reflecting brightly in the sun.

"Lord Commander," she asked in her most sympathetic voice. "How did you come to be sold like a common criminal? The Empire is terribly embarrassed by the entire incident."

As they moved beyond sight of the pipeline, he turned, and she experienced a thrill at the brute power in his eyes.

"You must have found the case records. and the Judicial Magistrate, if you found me."

"How would you like the matter to be handled? The Emperor will want your every wish accorded to." She settled herself and pulled the flask from the seat beside her. His sharpened expression cued her and she graciously handed him the energy-rich rehydrating fluid.

"Drink it, I believe you need it more than I." She smiled,

letting her lids drop &ver so slightly, her mouth set in the practiced half-smile that enticed and invited.

He drank but half, handing the flask forward. The slave woman, Ily noted, might not be interested in acknowledging the Lord Commander, but she finished the flask. Evidently, in the desert, water overrode social concerns.

"I leave the problem of my arrest to your sensibilities, Minister." He turned to her, gray ice in his gae. "However, were I making the decisions, I'd finish the job this pus-searing sun started, and melt this hellhole to slag with a cobalt bomb."

She nodded thoughtfully and was surprised when he looked at her again. "The only other request I make is that anyone you punish, you kill outright. Enslave none of them."

"Very well." She fought the urge to gasp in the heat, wishing she had worn anything but black in this burning waste. How many pounds had she sweated out in the five hours since They left Etarus? She appraised him again, noting the hard set of his jaw. How in the name of the Rotted Gods had even he survived? How could anyone live — let alone work — in that?

He looks like a man returned from hell. The glare in his eyes is that of a fanatic. For what? What has the desert, the heat, and the degradation done to him?

They set down minutes later before the Internal Security Directorate. Ily led Staff a and his slave woman into the building. "The Director's offices have complete facilities. Tyklat, find some proper clothing for the Lord Commander and his… lady."

Staffa glared at her. "Get the thrice-cursed collar off me! Now!"

"Tyklat?" Ily raised an eyebrow.

For the first time, Tyklat seemed flustered. "My Lord Minister, I fear the equipment to do that. well, we can put them on here, but take them off, I don't know."

"Give me a blaster." Staffa's muscles rippled. "I'll take the Rotted thing off."

Ily smiled, raising her hand. "I don't think we need to get that carried away. Tyklat, get the equipment. I don't care if you have to turn the city over."

Staffa glanced nervously at her and nodded, the control override jealousy guarded as they entered the main lobby.

Ily climbed the stairs, noticing the veiled woman who waited outside Tyklat's office. Her robes looked well to do and Ily could feel the woman's stare through the gauze. Some matron ratting on her husband for turning the servant perhaps? Why did these simple Etarians insist on their proper women wearing that ridiculous veil? It seemed ludicrous when they let their Priests pimp.

She opened the door and waved Staffa into the Director's spacious office. The slave woman followed, tall and straight, tan eyes catching each detail.

"The bath is through there." Ily motioned and tapped the intercom. "I will need a complete meal served for three with lots of beverages-and, as you value life, you will spare no expense. "

She watched Staffa and the woman disappear into the lavatory before settling into the plush contouring chair behind Kapstan's old desk and considering the developments. Who is this new Staffa? How do I bend him to my will?

Tyklat entered, bearing serviceable clothing if not the absolute finest. He deposited the garments in the dressing room, returning to inquire whether she needed anything else.

"I think that will do, Tyklat. Your service will be remembered. I want you to find out about this slave woman. Who is she? What's her history?"

"I've already checked, Ily. She is Kaylla Dawn, formerly the hand servant to the First Lady of Maika."

"Very good, Tyklat. If I ring, come and claim the girl. he was enslaved for a crime, I take it?"

The corner of his mouth lifted. "Murder of her master, Ily. A most heinous crime."

"And the equipment to remove the collar?" "Downstairs. It should be here in a moment."

Ily glanced toward the bath and lowered her voice. "Take your time. "

She ran her hand down his, touch light. His expression reflected his understanding of the potential implications. "Tyklat, have you ever thought about leaving Etarus? Perhaps to take a higher post in the Empire?"

"Constantly, Lord Minister," he replied artfully as he left the room on silent feet.

Staffa stepped out of the bath with his long black hair twisted over his

left ear as had always been his penchant. TykIat had found a white robe which Staffa now wore. Against his sun-blackened skin, it made a most striking contrast. "What about the collar?" he demanded first thing.

"Tyklat was just here. The equipment is on the way." "How did you know to search for me on Etaria?" he asked, settling easily on the pillows across from the desk, the collar control clutched tightly.

Look at the exhaustion in his eyes! Time to get some of my own back. "In spite of what you might have thought, we take our Empire very seriously. Your Wing Commander informed us that you were going on vacation-incognito. It wouldn't do to have you get into… well, the sort of mess you did on one of our possessions. We had an alert out for any disturbance or unusual mention of your name. It came out on a routine cross-check of the court system."

He nodded slowly, feral eyes never leaving hers. Did he believe her? No, she could see his skepticism. Happily, she realized his exhaustion would work to her benefit. She could read him; his discipline was compromised.

The food arrived as Kaylla stepped out of the dressing room in a bronze formfitting shift that did wonders for her. She had combed her shoulder length hair and it set off her tan eyes and weathered complexion. Not a planet-stopping beauty, but this woman would dominate a room where others with more classic features would fade against her magnetism. Staffa's perceptions must have held true-even through the dirt and stink and bruises.

By caught herself staring at Kaylla. Yet another potential rival? Rotted Gods, how did the man draw such competent women when the female half of human space seemed filled with ignorant fawning titterers and empty-headed breeding stock?

By gestured to the low ebony-topped table and settled herself across from the heaping plates. As Staffa and Kaylla seated themselves on the large cushions, Ily said, "I would offer a toast, but I doubt anything I say would be appropriate. Therefore, please, let us eat."

Ily kept her face straight as Staffa and the woman demol-

ished a complete dinner in ravenous fashion. The after-dinner lethargy would lower Staffa's defenses even further.

"You mentioned business?" The Lord Commander leaned back, wolfish gaze on Ily.

Ily poured them both more wine, aware of how Kaylla missed nothing. Sharp, and she hadn't said a word since the rescue.

"Indeed. We would offer you and the Companions contract, Lord Commander. Currently, the Targan situation is deteriorating. The Rebels, it seems, are better armed and led than we had at first suspected." Long practice had given her the ability to project credible hesitation and dismay. "They have destroyed an entire assault division and threaten our very control of the planet. Tybalt the Imperial Seventh believes it would be cheaper to hire the Lord Commander than to suffer the inefficiency, cost, and loss of life, equipment, and property the present situation would indicate as necessary to subdue the planet."

Kaylla's attention turned to Staffa, mouth opening slightly in the first show of emotion Ily had seen her display. Staffa looked from one to the other, face as impassive as the damned desert.

"For the moment, Lord Minister, the Companions are not accepting any contract. If you will be so kind as to extend my best wishes to his Imperial Tybalt, I would-"

"I don't think you understand the gravity of this situation, Lord Commander." Ily remained firm but pleasant. "Consider the current balance of power between Sassa and ourselves. We would prefer not to tie up large portions of our forces at this time. In the event we were to suffer heavy casualties during the pacification of Targa, would that not.?"

invite Sassan aggression.

"No," Staffa told her easily. "Having just come from Myklene, I can tell you they are in no position to threaten you." He looked into the tan eyes of the slave woman and added, "It is none of my business, Minister, but may I suggest that you approach the Rebel parties and attempt to find a political solution to the problem which will not bleed you so badly." He wiped his black beard with a dampened napkin and met her level gaze. "I take it, however, that I am free to leave this planet and continue my travels unrestricted?"

"Then you have no interest in helping us?" "Not for the foreseeable future."

"Surely, Lord Commander, we can sweeten the pot. Make you an offer-"

"You have my final word."

By smiled to cover her racing thoughts. With all the options available, where does my advantage lie? I can't allow Staffa loose-potentially bearing a grudge against the Imperium that enslaved him. If he returns to the Itreatic Asteroids, what guarantee do I have that he would ultimately side with Rega? Against that, I must balance his anger and wrath. What hope is there to coerce him to throw the Companions into the fray on the side of Rega if I threaten him? Most of all, I need him… need to win him to my side in the desperate gamble I must make. For that, I need time with him. Time to manipulate him, to bind him to me.

He told her politely, "In any case, I would have to take it up with the Companions, and we agreed upon my leaving to all take time to recuperate from the strenuous campaigning. Now why don't we get this damned collar off, and we can all be more pleasant."

"Then perhaps you would allow me to show my sincere regards and personally escort you through the Regan Empire at his Imperial Majesty's expense? I could offer you the finest in entertainment aboard my personal cruiser. You could consider yourself a., "

He raised a hand to stop her. "I am most honored by your offer, Lord Minister. I would, however, remind you that the Companions have never accepted such privileges from any government. To do so would bias our neutrality. As always, I will go on my own and bear my own expenses. That way, there can be no appearance of conflict of interest." His voice changed. "Ily, I want this collar off-now!"

"I understand," Ily bowed graciously. Time to gamble. She touched the button under the desk. Tyklat knocked immediately.

"Enter," Ily called.

Tyklat opened the door with Officer Morlai in tow. The Warden's officer sweated his nervousness, face pale despite the deep desert tan.

"Tyklat! Just the person I wanted to see. Where is that

Rotted equipment? The Lord Commander wants the collar removed."

Tyklat smiled uneasily. "It's on the way, Minister, I swear. We don't take many off of live. well, I mean."

By affected an air of irritation. "Then you had best get someone who can find something that will work."

"Immediately. But, well, your pardon Minister," Tyklat said with a bow. "I hope I am not intruding, but the officer has come for the slave woman, Kaylla."

"By all means. It was a pleasure, Kaylla, to—"

"No!" Staffa's voice was firm. "She goes with me." His gray eyes gleamed wickedly. "Either she goes Minister, or…"

Ily placed a hand to her head. "What is the woman's crime, Tyklat?"

"Murder of her former master Minister Takka. I am afraid that is one of the few convictions we cannot overturn. The people would be most upset at the thought that a slave might harm them and be allowed to walk free." Tyklat looked properly distressed and embarrassed, as if he hated to do what he had to. He almost winced — a perfect performance.

"She goes with me," Staffa said through gritted teeth. "Ily, what sort of game are you playing here? Get this damn collar off me, or so help me, Tybalt's going to get an earful!"

"Lord Commander," Ily put the right tone of distress in her voice. "Ours is a society of laws and proscribed punish ments for crimes. You must—"

"I killed two of your rot-cursed citizens. You would allow me to walk free?" His face turned flint-hard, eyes narrowed to slits as he stared at her over the wreckage of the meal.

"Perhaps, you don't see the difference. Your conviction was a case of mistaken identity. You were beset and robbed. It isn't—"

"Perhaps I shall return with my Companion and retrieve her on my own!" Staffa stated bluntly. "Would the Emperor like to protect his laws so much as to cross me and my fleet?"

Kaylla swallowed hard. "Tuff, uh Lord Commander. Look, I'm not worth a war. I'll go." She started to get up as Staffa clamped a hard hand on her arm and pulled her down.

Ily adopted her best perplexed look, then a light of inspiration filled her face. "Lord Commander, I might have an answer to our dilemma. Director Tyklat, once a slave is condemned, she is expected to die, isn't she? She can never

regain her freedom?"

"No, Minister."

"Suppose we sentenced Kaylla to death?" Ily lifted an eyebrow seeing the anger stirring in Staffa's hot face. "If, for example, the slave, Kaylla, were sentenced to fight the Targan Rebels, that would constitute a death sentence, would it not?"

Tyklat agreed with a short nod, "It could be so construed, my Lord Minister."

The corners of Staffa's lips curled into a smile. "Well played, Lord Minister. You would buy my contract through Kaylla's slavery. You are worthy of your position. Now I will make my own gamble. I will stand and walk out of here, Kaylla with me. will gamble that you will not risk my anger." He reached for the override control, expression going grim as Ily held up a stun rod she'd pulled from her belt pouch.

Staffa's cheek muscles jumped as he stood and helped a pale Kaylla to her feet. "You wouldn't risk my wrath, Minister."

What now? I can't let him walk out. No matter what, a dead Staffa is less a threat than a mad one.

Ily took a slow breath. "My Lord Commander, you look ill. Perhaps it is the heat which has affected you." She thumbed the stun control, watching Staffa and the woman collapse.

Ily stood, pacing out from behind the desk and plucking the collar control from his trembling fingers. As Staffa sat up, she tapped the box with her thumbnail. The desperate look he gave her woud have sintered clay. "Tyklat, you and the officer will remain outside." She watched as they left and closed the door.

"I'm sorry Lord Commander. Things have gone too far now. Though all is not lost for you. Your Kaylla remans with us. We cannot allow you to side with the Sassan slime. I did not wish to be forced to this action, but your honor is wel known. Contract with us, and we will send her unharmed to the Itreatic Asteroids."

"You play with fire, Ily."

"Not at all, Staffa." Ily backed cautiously out of reach as Kaylla sat up and winced. "I need you, and I will have you. Together, you and I can forge human space into one Empire to be ruled jointly." She extended her hand to him. "Join me, Staffa, and I'll cut that collar off your neck." She gave him a sultry look. "Join me and we'll knock Tybalt off his golden throne and emasculate those weak Sassans. ree Space will be ours."

He laughed bitterly, getting to his feet. "That's your final line?"

"Staffa, I will not take the chance that you might ally with the Sassans. Against you, we have no hope. With you dead, we have better odds by dealing with your Wing Commander — or, perhaps, to take the Sassans without the involvement of the Companions."

One thumb on the collar control, she traced her fingers down the side of his face in a lover's caress. "But alive, you and I can be Emperor and Empress. Who could stand against us? Staffa, am I that undesirable?" She stood back, eyes locked with his, breathing so as to move her breasts under the tight fabric of her black gown.

"Tuff!" Kaylla stood up. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Shut up!" Ily turned, eyes cold. "You have no word here. We're bargaining for your life."

"My life's not worth blackmail and suffering, and definitely not worth an interstellar war. Thanks, but no. Kill me right here. I'll go with honor to stop the likes of you!" Kaylla's lips hardened with disgust.

Staffa's laughter cracked rudely in the tense air. "You heard the lady. That's it, Ily."

"You, Staffa?" Ily laughed. "The Star Butcher backs a semen-greased slave?"

His speed surprised her, the flat of his hand slapping the side of her face, sending her sprawling over the ebony table. Shocked but coherent, she thumbed the collar control button by reflex, as her body slid over the dirty plates.

Fingers to her face, Ily sat up, blinking, dazed. The salty taste of blood filled her mouth. The bastard had split her lip! Thumb on the button, she stood, staggering. She looked down to where he lay. His violent stare met hers as his mouth worked soundlessly.

"Die, Staffa! she hissed. "No one, not even the Lord Commander slaps me! I offered you an Empire!

She let up on the button as he gasped and straightened. "Oh, no, Staffa kar Therma. Get your breath! You and your precious Kaylla can breathe a little first."

"By the Rotted Gods, Ily, you kill me, and the story will get out. If I disappear, the Companions will hear. One of your scum will sell the information."

"Too late, Staffa. I can't allow you to live now. My aircar will land. Tyklat and I will carry your body aboard and. well, an accident will happen to the ship bearing you back to your Companions." She pursed her lips as she fingered the collar control. "Most likely, it will look like the Sassans did it. And I doubt Tyklat will ever tell." She smiled. "He's good — but expendable."

"Ily!"

"Take a deep breath, Staffa, you're about. "

The rocking explosion took her by surprise. The walls cracked and Kapstan's prized artwork dropped to the floor as Ily fought to keep her feet. Staffa's leap caught her by surprise as he knocked the collar control spinning. Staffa leapt after it like some crazed leopard.

Fear spurring her, Ily dove across the desk, frantic fingers seeking the drawer. She ripped it open as another concussion shook the room. Blaster fire impacted on the walls outside as she strained to reach the blaster in the desk.

The second blast caught Staffa in mid-leap. He landed, rolling, coming up with the collar control. On his feet, he staggered as Ily tumbled over the desk and pulled a service blaster from a drawer.

Staffa jerked Kaylla to her feet and shoved her reeling as he ducked to one side. Ily shot from an awkward position;

the blaster bolt sizzled past his long hair as he threw himself out of the way. Years of combat training served him as he ducked yet another burst.

Staffa froze as Ily jumped to her feet, braced in an isosceles turret hold. His skin crawled as she pinned him in the sights.

Ily's voice went silky. "Good-bye, Staffa!"

The door slammed open but Staffa only had eyes for Ily. He launched himself as she turned her head, attention drawn to the door.

In mid-leap he saw her crumple, falling face first over the big desk, limp.

Staffa caught himself and rolled to one side, plucking the blaster from her fingers, the eerie tingle of a stun beam playing at the edges of his nerves. In a crouch he turned toward the door.

"Don't shoot," Tyklat told him evenly. "You have very little time. "

Tyklat replaced the stun rod with a blaster. Wary, Staffa never let his eyes leave the man as the weapon crackled and blew a section of wall out behind him. Someone screamed in the hallway beyond Tyklat. Blaster fire ripped the air. A pitched battle raged through the lower offices.

Tyklat pointed where sunlight slanted through the hole. "Hurry. You have a slight jump to the lower roof. A man will be waiting in the back alley with an aircar. His name is Nyklos. Go, now. Master Kahn, go with him. Take him to Bruen on Targa." Tyklat turned on his heel, slamming the door behind him and muffling the vicious sounds of combat.

Staffa caught Kaylla's arm, pulling her to her feet. "Come on! Opportunity is best not lost on dunces." He led her to the shattered wall, peering out over the rubble that had collapsed outward. With one hand, he lowered Kaylla to the debris below.

With a bitter cry, he turned and jumped, landing on his feet, running despite the entangling robe. To one side, a window shattered in an explosion of flying glass and curling flame that sprayed him with fragments.

Staffa shielded his eyes, racing for the roof edge, pounding across the shuddering tiles after Kaylla.

A big bearded man stood at the controls of a pitching aircar that hovered just below the roof line and out of direct fire. Staffa leapt into the seat right behind Kaylla, the car dropping under his weight.

Nyklos punched the throttle forward, acceleration driving Staffa hard against the firm cushions.

"Close work," the driver called. "We cut it a bit tight back there. "

"You're Nyklos?"

"I'm Nyklos." He looked Staffa up and down with a narrow-eyed stare. A deep-seated caution kicked into place. This man is no friend.

Kaylla pulled herself forward. "Tyklat called me Master back there. Why?

How did he know?"

Nyklos grinned wistfully. "He remembered you. You gained your Master's robes while he was still a first stage Initiate.

"Why did it take so long for the order to find me?" she wondered, eyes searching the flat ugly brown houses they fled past.

"We didn't know you were alive until Tyklat recognized you. We heard that you had been executed on Maika," Nyklos told her. He gave Staffa another appraisal while a crease of a frown etched into his forehead.

"Who are you?" Staffa asked, the uneasy feeling growing in his breast. "Why are you doing this?"

"That will be made known to you when you're out of danger. For the moment, the schedule is tight. We have to get you off planet before the Imperial fleet rolls down and blockades all of Etaria. Minister Takka has an Imperial cruiser up there. We want you well clear before she comes to.

"And where do you think you're taking me?" Staffa's voice dropped to a low hiss, the blaster centering on Nyklos' thick torso.

Nyklos' face lost color. "You wanted to get to Targa, to ask the Seddi about your son. We have a way to get you there. We hadn't planned on Kaylla, but-"

"She goes with me."

"Tuff, you don't owe me a thing," Kaylla protested. Staffa's expression hardened. "I made a promise. And the Regans will turn this planet upside down to find us. Ily will see to that. "

"I'm afraid he's right, Master Kahn." Nyklos agreed. "Your presence complicates things. The box only has supplies enough for two."

"Two?" Staffa asked.

"In a moment, all will be made clear."

"Why should I trust, you?" he asked Nyklos as they

passed a bulky brick warehouse and dropped into the shadow behind the building.

"You would rather trust your friend Ily?" Kaylla asked. Staffa frowned. Slowly the blaster lowered. Nyklos took a deep breath, relief in his brown eyes.

"Very well, I will take your passage to Targa." Staffa put a hand on Nyklos' shoulder as he stepped from the aircar. "Why do you look at me like that? You are. Yes, you would like to see me dead. Are you another whom I have wronged?"

Nyklos' lips twitched. "All my life, I have been trained to handle the eventuality of your appearance here. Things change, the quanta play strange games with our lives and our goals. Now we meet, face-to-face, and I who have trained all my life to kill you, must instead send you to my Magister, the one man for whom I would gladly lay down my life. I pray you are worth the risk, Staffa kar Therma." The brown eyes didn't drop, nor did the expression soften. "Bruen?" Kaylla asked, voice suddenly vulnerable.

"We have been in contact." Nyklos glanced at her. "Now. Lord Commander, bend down and let me get a look at that collar you manufacture so well."

Skyla triggered the heavy shoulder blaster Nyklos had given her and devastated the records center in the Internal Security building. Checking the door, she stepped over the body of the clerk she'd blown in two. The delayed charges she'd set rocked the building, and chunks of plaster spilled from the ceiling. She could hear people screaming as they fled the building.

Skyla checked and jumped from the doorway, sprinting down the hallway toward the landing. Steps pounded on the stairway. Skyla ducked to the side, ready to shoot.

Tyklat appeared at the landing, blaster in hand as he crouched, ready to fire. Seeing Skyla, he grinned, teeth flashing in his dark face. "They're off, Wing Commander. Ily's stunned, but she won't be out for long. The schedule's tight. Go. I'll do my best to cover for you, but I can't jeopardize my position. I've got to seal the planet — no one

in or out — within an hour. As to your vessel up there in orbit. "

Skyla stood, nodding. "I understand. I'll get its worth back out of Tybalt's hide. Take care, Tyklat. And if you ever need a job, the Companions have a place for you."

His manner cooled. "Thank you Wing Commander. I think I will die Seddi."

"See you, Tyklat." She dropped the heavy blaster and ran for the shattered

doorway, pulling the Etarian veil up to mask her face. A crowd had gathered outside the building, people craning their necks to see. Somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed. Skyla plunged into the crowd.

"What's happening?" a man asked, grabbing her arm as she fled.

"They've gone crazy in there," Skyla shrilled in a panicked voice. "Crazy!" She jerked her elbow away and shouldered through the jostling press.

She hurried to make the three blocks to the public transportation platform, images of Staffa burning in her mind. She'd almost gasped out loud when Ily had led him past the bench where Skyla waited in her Etarian disguise. He'd looked like a wild animal, filthy and bruised. But she knew the deadly gray stare that burned behind his eyes. And who was the tan-eyed woman?

Her combat nerves began to'unwind and she took a deep breath as she stepped onto the shuttle bus that ran across the city. She checked her chronometer. Right on time. Now, if Bruen were as good as his word, she and Staffa would be headed for Targa within the hour, their crate being carried off-planet moments before Tyklat's emergency security measures sealed Etaria.

Skyla watched the buff-colored buildings pass beyond the window as the heavy vehicle followed its route through bustling Etarus. Anxiety mingled with relief. Just how powerful were the Seddi? What was Bruen after? Why had he been so accommodating?

You're in deep waters, Skyla. She worried the inside of her lip with nervous teeth. God, I wish I had the fleet to back me up. But the Companions were far away — and she'd need the specialized equipment on her ship to contact them.

Skyla stood as the transport slowed to a stop, then she epped off in a seedy warehouse district. In the back-

ground, she could hear the roar of the cargo shuttle as it made its routine half-hour flight. The next time it rose, she and Staffa would be riding it up.

Skyla walked the half block to a side door which swung open, indicating an excellent surveillance system. Nyklos met her in a narrow hallway lined with offices. As they passed, Skyla could see secretaries bent over comm monitors. The place was a working exporting company, and guessing from what she'd come to lea of the Seddi, probably making a profit, too.

"Everything all right?" Skyla asked as she pulled her veil off.

"There's a snag," Nyklos told her. "We've another party to consider."

"The woman?" Skyla guessed. Her heart lurched suddenly. Rotted Gods, Staffa hadn't taken a lover, had he? A quelling tightness roiled her guts. And what if he did? You've no claim on him. But the thought nagged at her.

Nyklos ushered Skyla through heavy ceramic doors and into the huge warehouse: a place filled with large gray syalon crates, each four by four meters square. Nyklos led her through the maze of crates.

Staffa stood before an opened crate, hands braced on his hips. There, too, stood the tan-eyed woman, a grim expression on her face. Skyla ignored her, pacing up to Staffa, a wry grin on her face while her heart ached with longing and]'oy.

Staffa's lips quivered before breaking into a smile. A warmth filled his gray eyes with a tenderness she'd never seen. They faced each other awkwardly for a moment, then Staffa said, "I guess I made a mess of it, didn't I?"

" told you." Suddenly she was in his arms, hugging him tightly. "By the Blessed Gods, I've been worried sick about you. Tap and Tasha are nervously waiting word at home."

"Excuse me," Nyklos called. "We've got to make some important decisions here. Either we make the next shuttle, or we're in trouble."

Skyla pushed back, heart pounding. "What's the problem?"

"I am." The tan-eyed woman stepped forward, and Skyla got a good look at her. She had a square-jawed face and shoulder length brown hair. The tan robe she wore accented

her trim muscular body and long legs. More than that, the woman had a powerful presence and vitality that made her damned attractive.

Staffa pointed at the crate. "There's only room for two. Tybalt has the blockaded

Targa — and that's the only way to get through the embargo the Regans have drawn around the planet."

Nyklos said, "We've got provisions in the crate for two persons. It can't carry three — and we must get Kaylla off the planet. She is Seddi, and Ily will stop at nothing to find her."

"So? What's the problem?" Skyla glanced back and forth. "Kaylla goes to Targa in the box. Staffa and I take my ship and return to the Itreatic Asteroids. We'll get to Targa after things settle down."

"It's not that easy," Staffa told her. "Tyklat will have already issued orders for my arrest. My description is everywhere. If I step out of this warehouse, someone will spot me. Nyklos filled me in on the entire operation. My rescue has jeopardized the entire Seddi network on Etarus. They've worked for years to get Tyklat to his present position. He had to turn every stone over to find us. Ily will be looking for a scapegoat, and Tyklat's hanging by a thread. If he doesn't bend time-space in his search for us, she'll offer his head to Tybalt. Tlie crate looks like my best chance."

"Put more food in the crate," Kaylla suggested.

"Take too long to get it. We've only got four minutes to get that box loaded," Nyklos said anxiously. "Tyklat can't delay any longer, he's got to seal this planet immediately."

Skyla squinted at the crate, making a decision. "Staffa, you and Kaylla get in the box. Go, now. Of all of us, I'm the least likely to get caught in Tyklat's roundup."

Staffa glanced uncertainly at Nyklos then stepped close, placing his hands on Skyla's shoulders. "And you trust Bruen and the Seddi?"

Skyla gave him a crooked grin. "Not in the least, but Bruen is very interested in talking to you. I doubt they'll assassinate you before he gets a chance to sit down face-toface and discuss things with you. Something's gone wrong with the Seddi plans — and you're part of it. Trust them? Hell, no, but you've got plenty of insurance."

"What about you?" Staffa asked, shifting uneasily.

"I'm not the one who ended up in the slave collar," Skyla reminded. "You worry about getting to Targa in one piece. Find out what Bruen has to say about your son.

"And if there's treachery?"

Skyla shot a hard glance at Nyklos. "The Companions will guarantee your safety, Staffa. I have Bruen's promise of a safe conduct for you, and I think I have a plan for getting off Etarus. You see, Bruen has you, and I have Nyklos-and everything he knows about Seddi spy networks. As long as you're treated well, Nyklos doesn't get mind-probed, and that information doesn't get transmitie to either Divine Sassa 11 or Tybalt the Imperial Seventh."

Staffa bent forward, kissing her gently on the lips. "gee you on Targa, if the quantum gods allow." And he ducked into the gray syalon crate.

"Hurry!" Nyklos shouted, waving Kaylla in.

Skyla's heart ached as the heavy door was glued in place and a hoist lifted the crate, whining as it sped along the ceiling gantries for the shuttle.

Nyklos turned on his heel, saying, "You surely didn't think you'd get away with …… He glanced down at the blaster Skyla shoved against his ribs.

"Damn right I did-and do. Let's get moving. I've got to steal my ship before Tyklat impounds it, and you're going to play the part of my husband in the process." She smiled icily. "Right, sweet meat?"

Nyklos measured the seriousness in her eyes and sighed in defeat. "Very well, at least let me call Tyklat. Maybe he can do something."

Security Third Zsem Letmon noticed Corporal Shinn as he passed routinely through the military compound gate. The woman with him, however, was definitely nonroutine. Tall and athletic, she pressed against Shinn as she whispered in his ear. Her perfect face lit with laughter. Striking redbrown hair tumbled down her shapely back, glinting curls shining where they caught the slanting afternoon light. She wore a shining silver dress that looked to have been glued to her firm flesh.

"Lucky bastard!" Zsern growled under his breath, seeing the scanners clear the pair. "He's got a woman like that to squire to the Second Division Ball-and I'm on patrol all night! Some justice!"

He admired the full curves of her bottom as she walked along, arm in arm with the corporal. Damned if her hips didn't sway in a most fascinating manner.

Zsem swallowed against the sudden tight knot of desire under his throat and shook his head.

Three hours later, Zsem saw them again as he surveyed the parade ground. The sun had fallen behind the ragged peaks to the west, leaving the night sky star-shot, the Targan moon barely peeking over the mountains where it followed in the sun's wake.

Shinn and that voluptuous woman strolled from the music-blaring ballroom toward the officers' quarters. Zsem cut through the darkness, taking advantage of his IR night vision to study her again. Her silver skintight dress caught the light and reflected it on all the curves of her phenomenal body.

He timed it right to meet Shinn as he entered the personal residential quarters-just to get one close-up of her beauty. "Danced out?" Zsern joked, winking his approval at the

corporal. He glanced at her, meeting incredible amber eyes that let him speechless.

"You're gawking, Zsem," Shinn failed to mask his irritation. "Now go stick your nose in garbage cans so we know we're safe from Targan Rebels, huh. The lady and I are off to conduct some, uh, ground maneuvers." Shinn and the auburn-haired woman pushed past.

"What I'd give for a woman like that," Zsem muttered, remembering the thrust of her breasts against the silver fabric. His fantasies allowed him to drift for a second as he hugged his blaster close.

"Patrol check!" the Night Second's voice reminded flatly in his ear comm.

"Third Letmon, all clear," he mumbled, thumbing his mike.

Walking his beat between the deserted buildings, Letmon remembered her; she stuck in his mind, spinning herself around each of his fantasies. At the same time the music pouring out of First Mykroft's ball grated on his

sensitive nerves. She had marvelous amber eyes. Amber eyes?

The phrase caught, clinging in the back of his mind. "Third Letmon, over," he called in.

"Yeah, Zsem, what ya need?"

"Didn't we have a warrant for a woman with amber eyes and reddish hair a while back? Shinn just took a knock-out dish like that to his quarters. She's Targan, not one of ours. I mean, you'd remember a body like that-or those eyes."

Zsem heard the comm hum in the background. "Yeah, here it is. Couple of months ago. Not much description. Think this is her?"

"No," Zsem added, grinning wickedly. "But, what the hell, we're all missing the party and he's in banging bellies with one phenomenal piece of female flesh while I'm walking around in the dark. Maybe I'll give him time to exercise before I go knock on his door. Just to check her out, you see. "

"Right!" The Night Second agreed, a perk of interest in his voice. "Uh, I'll follow from your monitor. If she's that good, we'll cop a couple of pictures. Might make my 20 ICs back.

Zsem gave them an hour. He trotted up the hallway to Shinn's room and palmed the door latch. Locked, of course. His security ID bypassed the mechanism. Zsern pushed the door open quietly. Silence.

"Security! Corporal Shinn?" he called as he marched into the sleeping quarters. Nothing. No one had mussed the bedding, but Shinn's dress uniform lay scattered about the floor. The gap hadn't registered at first. He took a quick look at the wall again where a square hole had been cut. Plaster dust had settled in a fine white powder over the floor and the block that had been cut out had been pushed through.

"Uh, what's behind this wall?" Shinn wondered, knowing the Night Second watched through his headset cam. "According to records, that's the armory."

"Crap in the morning!" Zsem grinned to himself. "Hey, Second, is there a bonus if we break a black market ring?" "Uh-huh, just remember we're both in on it."

"Yeah, well, keep your fingers off that alarm, buddy. I'll nail them, and we split fifty-fifty!"

"Got it," the Night Second agreed.

The book said they needed to sound an alert but hell, on a Security Third's

pay? Risks were called for. Zsem thrust his blaster through the square hole, bounced on his toes, and crawled through head first. The air in the armory felt cool against his face. Zsem eased himself over zero-g crates and onto the concrete floor. One out of five of the overhead lights were on, leaving the place dimly lit. Silently, he stole through the huge building.

When he neared the main doors, he ducked back. Both guards appeared asleep, head cams pointed at holo-vision. "I'm getting a bad feeling about this," Zsem whispered

into the mike. "Maybe we better sound an alert. This could-"

"They been watching that holo, for the last half hour." "So Shinn and the lady been in here a half hour? This gate leads out to the compound. Nothing there but electrified fence. You get a proximity reading on that?"

The Night Second's voice sounded baffled. "Nothing. They couldn't have thrown a personal hygiene pack over the wire without an alarm going off and surveillance lighting up the whole area."

"I'm going to check the other door." He advanced, blaster held low, while, worry traced fingers up and down his spine. As he feared, he found the other security personnel-dead. He stared at the bodies. The throats had been neatly cut, heads propped to point at the holo box.

"Rotted Gods!" the Second whispered hoarsely in Zsem's ear.

"You know, there's enough explosive and weaponry in here to flatten half this planet," Zsem reminded as he backed away from the corpses.

"Yeah, but the screens haven't shown any vehicles moving," the Night Second reminded. "Only thing that crossed the compound was one AG cart. Went to the service entrance at the power plant. Probably routine delivery."

Zsem pushed the door open, blaster ready. The night seemed peaceful enough. "Sound the alarm. I gotta bad feeling about this."

"My bonus money keeps getting-Holy crap! Proximity! Must be a thousand people out there in the night! Can you see them? Zsem? Can you see-"

A blinding flare of light illuminated the grounds in an actinic glare that shot up from behind the armory. The compound lights flickered and went black. The concussion deafened, then the ground heaved under Zsem's feet. With his IR vision, Zsem saw the masses beyond the fence coming at a run, hundreds of people, charging forward purposely.

"Power plant!" he gasped. "They blew the flipping power plant! Whole place is dead!"

He turned and caught sight of a light coming through the armory. Behind him, the mob rushed the fence, lasers cutting the wire like butter.

He wheeled and ran toward the light, drawing up as he slid to a stop and pulled for his blaster with fear-thick fingers. Her amber eyes bored into his.

Her vibraknife thrust into his gut, low down, ripping up through his chest.

He tried to scream as he fell beside the AG cart she had been towing. The world turned gray before Zsem's swimming vision while she pulled cases of blasters and armor past his face. Outside, a swelling roar rose in angry throats. Fleet pounded through the armory as Targans armed themselves before spilling into the night.

Skyla turned to the monitor as it hazed and wavered. Something was coming in on a scrambled channel. She sat in the familiar seat of her personal yacht, the worry-cap lowered onto her ice-blonde hair. One by one, the systems came to life on the instrument panel as she completed the preflight check.

Tyklat's face formed. "Wing Commander? I just thought I'd check and make sure you made it through customs without problems." He hesitated. "You wouldn't consider turning Nyklos loose, would you?"

"I will, as soon as I get Staffa off Targa."

"I take it the Master is in good health?"

She chuckled. "He must be. You ought to hear him curs ing back there. Don't you Seddi have rules about the kind of language a Master can use?"

Tyklat gave her a flat look from tired eyes. "Masters are not used to being held hostage."

"Consider the stakes, Tyklat, and then you tell me what you'd do in my place. By the way, how'd you get us such an easy clearance? I've already got a flight plan from orbital traffic control. Not even a single delay."

Tyklat grinned evilly and held up a golden badge with a cat's face and lily design. "Ily's jessant-de-lis. When she finds out you used it to clear her ship, I'm hoping she'll be so embarrassed she won't think twice about using me for a scapegoat."

"My systems are powering up and I can see Ily's cruiser on the monitors. I guess they haven't figured out what's gone wrong?"

"They're curious about the alert but not panicked yet. I imagine things will be interesting by the time Ily gets on board." His dark features went tense. "Minister Takka is coming to. I've got her in a med unit, but I can't keep her down any longer. You've had all the time I can safely grant you without creating awkward explanations or incompetent misdirection. Good luck, Wing Commander." His lips curled over white shining teeth, eyes sparkling. "I am sorry to have to let you go. Ily promised I could put a collar on you — and keep you!"

"Might not have been so bad, Tyklat." She gave him a wink and a saucy smile. "The Lord Commander's on his way to Targa, huh? You put together a hell of a rescue. If you need anything from us… the Companions do not forget a debt."

"I will remember, thank you. And good spacing, Wing Commander."

"Farewell, Tyklat. And thanks."

"Take very good care of Nyklos." The screen went dead.

She cleared with planetary orbit control and powered out of orbit, laying a vector for deep space — setting a false trail of plasma in the direction of Rega before shutting the reactors down. Changing her ship's attitude, Skyla blasted reaction mass from time to time to change vector without leaving a consistent trail. Satisfied no one could follow, she let her cruiser float on automatic. For long moments, she stared out the main port at the billions of stars that shimmered in double and triple images beyond the Forbidden Borders. A whole universe lay out there — beyond human ability to reach. An unfamiliar depression settled on her, a

feeling the universe had changed, that nothing would be the same again.

Skyla, you're tired. You haven't had a full night's sleep in a week.

The worry-cap gleamed in the cockpit lights as she lifted it off. She stood and took one last glance at the controls before she palmed the cockpit hatch and stepped into the main cabin. Using a special security code, she locked the cockpit hatch and turned. Nyklos remained firmly bound with EM restraints where she'd shoved him into one of the cushioned sofas.

Not that he was suffering. Her private yacht had once belonged to the Secretary of Economics on Formosa. The interior had been paneled with sandalwood and Riparian ebony. Velvet upholstery was the rule, and gleaming gold accented tasteful decor. The table Nyklos sat behind had been cut from a slab of Vegan marble and Myklenian silk had been used for the draperies. The thick spongy rugs had come from the finest Ashtan manufacturers.

He cocked his head curiously and asked, "Everything is all right? We're spacing for Targa?"

Skyla sighed and shook her head. "Afraid not. It will take quite a while for Staffa's cargo canister to arrive on Targa. Meanwhile, Ily Takka is going to come boiling out of Etana with an anger the likes of which not even the Rotted Gods could imagine. Rushing off to Targa might put us right in her net. Want a cup of stassa?"

"I'll pass. So what are we going to do? You're not going to keep me tied up the whole time, are you?"

Skyla shrugged. "Depends on how you act, and what I decide to do, but first things first. I'm going to feed you, get you something to drink, and let you take care of nature. Then I'm going to tie you up, lock you in one of the after cabins, and I'm going to sleep for as long as it takes to get my brain functional again. After that, I'll let you out, feed you again, and then I'm going to sit around and do nothing but think until I can tack some kind of plan together and initiate it."

"While I'm tied up again?"

Skyla raised an eyebrow. "It could be worse. This isn't exactly a pigsty." "And I can always fantasize about you."

"You already did that."

He gave her a suspicious glance. "When?"

"Under the Mytol."

He colored. "Well, I guess there are no secrets between us."

"Oh, there are plenty," she told him coolly. "But they're all mine."

His smile grew until it curled his mustache. "Uh, I don't suppose you'd sleep better with someone close. Just because you're my captor doesn't mean we couldn't—"

"No."

"Oh, come on. You know how I feel about you. The Mytol wouldn't leave any doubt in your mind — or mine, for that matter. You know that what I told you was the truth. I think you're one of the most wondrously beautiful women in all of Free Space."

"If this is some sort of psychological warfare, forget it. I've been flattered by the best, Nyklos, and you don't have a chance. Over the years, I've learned that there is no limit to the amount of lust that can be packed into a male body."

Skyla fed him, showed him to the toilet, and finally locked him — well tied — in one of the cabins. She programed the security monitor to go if the door to his room were tried and then went to the elegant master cabin. There, she stripped and enjoyed a hot shower before tumbling into the decadently comfortable bed.

In her dreams, Staffa twisted just beyond reach of her frantic fingers. Condemned to eternal suffering, he spun slowly while a laughing black-garbed woman sliced at his body. Try as she might, he always turned a whisker beyond Skyla's fingertips — beyond rescue from the vicious knife. Skyla cried her anguish and the woman in black glanced at her with features that molded into Ily Takka's.

Ily regained consciousness in a small room. She blinked and tried to move. Nothing happened. She glanced down to discover herself encased in a hospital unit. Staffa! He and that Kaylla had. Yes. It all came back. She pulled her scattered thoughts together.

"Awake at last?" She turned her head to see Tyklat's

pensive dark features measuring her from where he sat in a cushioned chair.

"What happened to you back there?" She asked through a dry throat.

"We were attacked. Moriai and I organized the defense of the Internal Security Directorate on Etarus." He frowned. "So far as we can determine, they must have been Companions. The Ministry offices are totally wrecked, fifteen people are dead. I immediately ordered a planetary emergency and confiscated Skyla Lyma's craft. She, however, cleared its release on your personal ID — which I did manage to recover. Evidently, they didn't recognize the power of the jessant-de-lis."

Ily gasped, trying to sit up in panic, stopped by the medical unit.

Tyklat continued, "I've already instituted Imperial proceedings against the slave, Kaylla. I put a death warrant on her head. I thought I'd better await your approval before I instituted any further action." He gave her a studied look. "Ily, what's going on here? I'm not asking for all of the details, but you must give me enough to create plausible cover for you and your operation. The Ministry of Defense is making inquiries Economics is screaming. Everyone wants to know what happened here."

"Is my battle cruiser still up there?" she asked, mind racing. "Where's my ID badge?" God, to have lost that token of unlimited power The consequences would be unthinkable! What next? How do I cover for this damage? How did everything go so wrong so fast?

"I have taken the liberty to order your cruiser readied;

it's at your disposal." Tyklat handed her the escutcheon emblazoned with the jessant-de-lis. The leopard glared angrily at her, its visage discolored from being touched by the wrong fingers, as if she had disappointed it through her failure. Iron resolve tightened in her breast.

What now? Where would Staffa have gone? What do I do?

She organized her thoughts. "We must get a message to the Emperor and tell him Staffa kar Therma is — and has been — in the pay of the Sassan Empire since he took Myklene. Perhaps, if we play this right, we can still shortcut that bastard!" She gritted her teeth. "By the Rotted Gods, get an LC down here and transfer me up to that cruiser!

Have the First Officer get a fix on their plasma trail." She frowned at the wall, hearing Tyklat's steps and a door closing.

She brooded for a moment, her pale brow creasing with rage. "I'll get you,

Staffa kar Therma. I'll get you if I have to plunge all of Free Space into war."