The Price of Conquest

Thirty hours had passed since the Stingray returned from Teneia to wrest control of Arecia from the Patrol. In that time, Jonathan had seen to it that the Guard was well on their way to reclaiming the planet, and then transferred the Stingray to Vsuna where he hoped to use the information contained in the nav computers on board Ciroen's ship to find Marasyn.

They had copied the navigation data and star charts from the th'Maran vessel, but the information was far from complete, and it appeared unlikely that the Stingray's computer would come up with an answer soon.

While the computer worked on the problem, Jonathan asked Ciroen to join him in one of the Stingray's conference rooms. Saunorel was there, as well, having insisted she accompany Jonathan from Arecia on the grounds that her relationship with Kressa might help her locate the humans if they managed to find Marasyn.

Jonathan replayed the conversation the Stingray had monitored between Shaw and Gaunis at Arecia, and then asked the th'Maran, "What would your leader want with a human?"

"I cannot say," Ciroen said. "We were instructed to go to the humans and contact them, never to bring any to Marasyn."

"Do you think Gaunis lied about your leader's request?" Jonathan asked.

"It is certainly a possibility," Ciroen said, "and in keeping with his previous actions."

"He may have been telling the truth," Saunorel said. "The L'Aron Om has never met a human. After working so long to bring us together, he might want to meet some."

"He won't hurt them, will he?" Jonathan struggled to keep the anxiety he felt out of his voice.

Saunorel gave him a gentle smile. "We are not a violent people, Captain Westlex." Her eyes grew hooded for a moment. "At least those still on Marasyn do not know violence. I can think of no reason the L'Aron Om would hurt Kressa or the others."

"I do not believe the L'Aron Om's motives are so innocent, Saunorel," Ciroen said. "I have heard from others that he has turned from the Om-Mar's purpose, that he plots against the humans as the Patrol does against us."

"But the L'Aron Om could never disobey the Om-Mar," Saunorel said.

"Do not be so certain of that." Ciroen returned his gaze to Jonathan. "Do you know how many prisoners were sent to Marasyn, Captain? Or who they were?"

Jonathan shook his head. "You just heard everything we did. The only people he specifically mentioned were Kressa and that friend of Admiral Shaw."

"Emre," Saunorel said.

"Yeah. Do you know her?"

"She is the one who helped Saunorel escape from Eminence," Ciroen said.

"She was Admiral Shaw's mistress," added Saunorel.

Shaw's mistress? Jonathan wondered if Saunorel knew the different definitions of the word, and if so, which one she meant to imply. He started to ask her about it, but the two th'Maran went suddenly rigid in their chairs, and their eyes grew round with shock.

"They did it," Saunorel whispered, her gaze focused far beyond the room. "The Patrol destroyed the gate. I felt it." She turned to Ciroen and touched his hand. "L'Aron?"

"I did not believe it could be done." He turned his gaze to Jonathan. "You must find Marasyn, Captain. The Stingray is now our only route."

Jonathan ignored the swarm of questions and concerns suddenly vying for his attention, and commed Satra on the bridge. "How's the analysis of the Enforcer's nav charts coming along, Lieutenant?"

"Not very good, I'm afraid. We were able to track to the gate's location without any problem, but wherever it leads to is too far for a positive match on any of our charts. It could take several more hours, or several more days, to come up with even a partial match. Or we may not find any at all."

"According to our th'Maran guests, the Patrol just destroyed the gate," Jonathan said. "Since they sensed its destruction way out here, it may have caused some significant spatial interference. Do you think we could use that to find out where the gate led to?"

"That might work," Satra said, "but we'd need to get out to where the gate used to be quickly, before the trail fades."

"Have ITD prepare a jump that will take us near the gate coordinates, but not so close that we'll be spotted by any Patrol vessels in the area." He glanced at the th'Maran. "Ciroen, do you want to come with us?"

"I would, but it is best I rejoin those on my ship."

* * *

Jonathan sat in his command chair and studied the readouts on the boards before him. His plan to use the remnants of the gate to locate Marasyn appeared to be working. Within hours of the Stingray's arrival near the point of deep space the gate had occupied, Satra delivered a set of coordinates that would take them thousands of light years away from any known world and, hopefully, deliver them to Marasyn.

"Did you send a probe ahead to make sure these coordinates won't drop us in the middle of a star or something similarly unpleasant?" Jonathan asked.

"Yes, sir," Satra said. "It's safe. The probe detected a five-planet system. The second planet appears capable of supporting humans."

"That is Marasyn," Saunorel said, her voice filled with elation.

Jonathan had invited the th'Maran woman onto the bridge as an observer, hoping she could tell them how close they came to finding Marasyn. Apparently, they were closer than he dared hope, but he still had one concern.

"Aerhom, how will the Stingray handle this long of a transfer? Will those temporary plates on the outer hull cause any problems?"

"We've been working on that, Captain, and there is some risk," the commander said. "The patches will create imbalances that could damage the drive or throw off the transfer. However, the positions of the damaged areas will be taken into account when the transfer is computed. There should be little chance of severe error." His eyes met Jonathan's. "Besides, we hardly have a choice."

Jonathan looked at the stars on the main screen. Aerhom was wrong; they did have a choice. They could return to Teneia and make the jump after completing the repairs to the ship. However, if Ciroen's fears were warranted, Kressa and the others might need help now. Jonathan did not believe anyone aboard the Stingray would argue that the risk wasn't worth the chance to try to save them.

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"We'll give it a shot. Dakk, send the coordinates to Teneia, just in case," he ordered his comm officer and then tapped the all-call control on his console. "Attention all crew members, this is Captain Westlex. We're about to attempt a transfer to the Marasyn system. Hold tight, it could be a rough ride."

"We're ready, Captain," the ITD officer reported a moment later.

"Do it."

The jump felt like nothing Jonathan had ever experienced. Where other transfers left an impression of uncomfortable physical distortion, rattled senses, and an occasional bout of synesthesia, this felt as if space warped into some impossibly intricate configuration, and then unfolded with ponderous slowness to its natural shape.

The sensation seemed to last for minutes, and when it finally subsided, the confusion and jangled nerves associated with all transfers held on for much longer than usual. But Saunorel's excited inhalation swept the lingering effects of the transfer from Jonathan's head.

"You did it!" She gazed at the blue-and-white crescent of the planet on the main screen. "That is Marasyn."

An instant later, the Stingray's computer confirmed a match to the star charts from the Enforcer.

Jonathan allowed himself a weak smile and signaled Satra. "Damage report?"

Satra blinked slowly, staring at nothing. Finally, she focused on Jonathan. "What's that, sir?"

"Damage report." Jonathan gestured to the lieutenant's console. "How'd the ship take it?"

"Oh… right, sir. Sorry." She shook her head and studied her boards. "The repairs held together. The crew's reporting in slowly. Lots of disorientation, but everyone seems to have come through in one piece." She glanced at Jonathan with a frown. "We won't be going home immediately, though, sir. The transfer drive's reporting a dozen malfunctions."

"Anything critical?"

"Nothing we can't fix on the wing, but it will take some time to complete repairs."

Relieved, Jonathan gave a brisk nod and stood. "Get on those repairs as soon as possible. Aerhom, put us in high orbit above Marasyn. Sensors, let me know if we're scanned."

"Aren't you going to tell them we are here?" Saunorel asked.

"Not until I'm sure of what's going on. Ciroen didn't seem all that convinced your leader is on our side. Until I'm sure of that, I think we'll lie low. Do you know where they would have taken Kressa and the others?"

"If the L'Aron Om wants to meet them, they will be at the Fruelar."

"Where's that?" Jonathan asked.

"It is in Sullis," Saunorel said.

"Is that a city?"

She nodded. "Sullis is the only city on Marasyn. It is where all of my people live."

"All of them?" Jonathan asked, surprised. "Can we get to this Fruelar without anyone noticing?"

Saunorel studied the image of Marasyn on the screen and nodded. "We can land a shuttle outside of Sullis and walk in. It will be early morning, and the city will be quiet."

"I'd like to keep the party small so there's less chance of being discovered. Do you think the two of us can get in alone?"

"Yes," Saunorel said. "That would be best."

Aerhom stepped toward the command station, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Captain, I don't think you should—"

Jonathan cut the protest short with a shake of his head. "I'm going, Commander. Don't try to stop me." He looked at Saunorel. "We'll leave immediately."

* * *

Seen from the air, Sullis was a magnificent city. Loose clusters of buildings spread out for kilometers, the flowing architecture based as much on studies of circles and ellipses as on the more angular forms with which Jonathan was familiar. Between the buildings, expansive patches of open space smoothed the harsher lines of the structures with natural-looking ponds and lush greenbelts.

Before Jonathan could thoroughly admire the sight, the shuttle dipped low over the grassy, rolling hills north of the city. Moments later, the ship dropped into a shallow valley several hundred meters outside of Sullis, and settled on a flat patch of tree-shaded grass near the hollow's southernmost end.

"Good work," Jonathan said to the shuttle pilot, and then called the Stingray. "Any sign we've been spotted, Aerhom?"

"No, sir. No change in the city, and there's no sign of anyone near where you've landed."

"Good. If you haven't heard from me in two hours, send someone down to find out what's happened."

"Affirmative, Captain. Be careful."

"I plan to." Jonathan climbed from his seat, opened the hatch, and motioned Saunorel out of the shuttle. "Give us three minutes to get clear," he said to the pilot, "then get back to the Stingray."

"Aye, sir. Good luck."

Jonathan scooped up his gun belt, stepped from the shuttle, and sealed the hatch.

Saunorel eyed the weapon, her expression stern. "There will be no killing."

Jonathan glanced up, surprised at the authoritative sound of her voice, and then he slung the belt around his hips and fastened the catch. "I thoroughly agree. This is just for intimidation, and because my first officer won't let me leave the ship without it."

Saunorel watched him for a moment, and then looked south. "Come. We must hurry." She started toward the city, and Jonathan fell in beside her.

It was a beautiful morning, the air cool and sweet, filled with the perfume of flowers and other plant life. The sun shone low and bright in the deep blue sky, and Jonathan had to remind himself why he'd come. Marasyn appeared so serene and idyllic, so free from the troubles of far-off worlds, that he fell into a brief internal argument with himself over the properness of what he was doing. The th'Maran seemed to match their world in serenity; they wouldn't hurt Kressa and the others. Yet Ciroen had been uncertain, as if he sensed something sinister going on beneath the surface.

Saunorel set a fast pace but kept their route confined to the cover of the brush-choked gullies between the hills. In minutes, the tops of many of Sullis' taller buildings could be seen above the surrounding foliage.

"We must be cautious," Saunorel said as they drew closer to the city. "People do not often leave Sullis, but if someone comes, we must hide."

"What if we're spotted?"

"I do not think anyone will bother us unless they realize you are not th'Maran. That is why we must hide. And we must be even more cautious inside Sullis."

They continued toward the city, the silence of the morning broken only by the soft sound of their footfalls and the sporadic whistles and chitterings of unseen wildlife. They came around a final hill, and Sullis unfolded before them.

Jonathan paused for a moment as he realized that what he had taken to be greenbelts interspersed among the buildings were, in fact, areas where the natural landscape had reclaimed parts of the city. Large swaths of Sullis appeared abandoned and unkempt, particularly those farthest from where they stood.

Before Jonathan could ask about what caused the apparent abandonment of a good portion of the city, Saunorel touched his arm and pointed to the tallest building, a massive buttressed pyramid sliced vertically through the center, the halves separated by a wide breezeway. A needle-like spire graced the peak of each half of the structure and a narrow ribbon joined the two sections three-quarters of the way to the top.

"That is the Fruelar," Saunorel said.

Jonathan studied the distant building. "Are you sure we can get there without being seen?"

"The distance is deceiving, and there will be few people outside this early." She started into the city.

Jonathan followed her through the city's wide, empty walkways toward the towering structure of the Fruelar. As she predicted, they saw only a handful of th'Maran, all of them from a distance, and Jonathan found himself wondering why Sullis, a city that had apparently supported a million or more people at one time, held so few inhabitants now. Had they all left on the th'Maran crusade to unite with the humans?

Saunorel paused at the edge of a large, semi-circular courtyard that opened from the near end of the Fruelar's breezeway. Meticulously maintained trees and bushes ringed the open area. Two th'Maran moved away from them along the wide walkway that cut through the center of the courtyard to end at the Fruelar. They took no notice of Jonathan or Saunorel.

The two figures entered the east wing of the Fruelar through a set of doors that faced the opposite wing. Saunorel directed Jonathan to the right along a narrow path that skirted the courtyard and delivered them to a small door in the side of the west wing. The door slid aside, and she stepped into the long, blue-gray corridor beyond.

With a last glance into the strangely quiet city, Jonathan followed.