The Price of Conquest

It took nearly two weeks of cautious inquiries and carefully arranged meetings before the Arecian Guard leaders felt comfortable enough to begin actual negotiations with the Teneians. During that time, Kressa served as liaison and go-between for the two forces.

Once the real talks began, however, she felt more than ready to get on with her life. She had no interest in the seemingly endless meetings between the two parties, and she doubted her presence would affect the outcome even if she did attend. Besides, according to Guard Intelligence, Shaw's interest in Arecia had not diminished, and the way she saw it, the farther she could get from any of the admiral's interests, the safer she'd be. Yet every time she tried to slip away, General Kamick or Captain Westlex came up with something for her to do, and she found it increasingly difficult to refuse either of them.

She understood her willingness to help the general—their relationship went back over a decade, as both lovers and friends—but working with Westlex was another matter. Sure, he was nice to look at, but she also felt unusually at ease with him. She recalled having a similar reaction when she first got to know the general, yet there seemed to be some additional, intangible element that attracted her to the captain.

After the Vsuna uprising, Kressa had spent several years on Ilek, learning to tap into and control the psi abilities inherited from her Nepurhan mother. During that time, she'd heard it said more than once that, upon meeting someone new, certain psi-gifted individuals could sense those with the potential to affect their lives in some way, but whether that sense could be attributed to some form of precognition, the classic tale of meeting one's so-called "soul mate," or something else entirely, no one seemed to agree. In truth, she'd never put much stock in the stories, preferring to concentrate on the more tangible abilities her psi talents afforded her. But now that she thought about it, there had been a few individuals she'd met throughout her life that she'd felt particularly drawn to. Yet couldn't that simply be a result of normal human intuition?

She pondered the question as she worked her way through the gauntlet of checkpoints that secured the Guard offices located beneath the government center in Cint-Istep, Arecia's capital city. She had received yet another request from the general; this time, he wanted her to meet him at his downtown office.

At last, she cleared the final security post and took a seat in the general's tastefully appointed waiting room.

Despite the room's underground location, a view of the city dominated the chamber, displayed on an image wall opposite where she sat. The scene was real-time, transmitted from the roof of the building above. Kressa studied it and tried to convince herself she was looking at the real downtown high rises shimmering in the remains of the day's heat, their dark, mirrored sides reflecting the passing aircars and the fiery glow of Arecia's setting sun where it hovered above the nearby ocean. It didn't work. Even with the precise image filling her vision, the tons of rock, soil, and buildings above pressed uncomfortably on her awareness. She switched her attention to the closed office door on her right.

A moment later, the door opened and General Halav Kamick stepped through, black and gray uniform immaculate as ever. His tawny eyes sparkled mischievously as they met Kressa's, and she wondered what he was up to this time.

"Kressa," he said finally, "you've been drafted. You and Connie are going to deliver some Teneian hyperwave gear to Vsuna."

Kressa gave him a long look. "Drafted?" she said. "I think you meant to say 'hired.'"

He seemed to consider that for a moment. "No, 'drafted' is definitely the right word." He leaned against the wall beside his office door, arms folded lightly across his chest, a smile playing on his lips. "Welcome back to the Guard."

Kressa started to protest, and then hesitated. Although she had never officially joined the Guard, she'd worked with the general and his forces for years before her participation in the Vsuna uprising convinced her she wasn't cut out to be a soldier. Now, despite Shaw's intentions for the Free Worlds, maybe it was time to try again. After all, with the Teneians' help, the Free Worlds might actually be able to stand up to the United Galaxy. It couldn't hurt to at least give it another try.

"All right," she said. "Same arrangement as before?"

Halav nodded. "Sure. Nothing official. You and Connie do what we need. I'll cover your expenses."

"What about that Terran gun shipment?" she asked. "I'm out money on that little fiasco. Could you give me some credits for that?"

He gave her a stern look that was clearly feigned and wagged a finger at her. "Ah-ah, you know the rules: no goods, no money. You've been telling me that for years." He picked a bit of imaginary lint off the front of his uniform and peered at her through thick red-brown lashes. "Maybe if your Teneian friends had been able to give us some guns…"

She sneered. "Hal, they don't have any guns to give you. They're—how did Westlex put it?—a 'boringly stable society.' They're doing everything else they can to help."

Halav waved a silencing hand at her and pushed himself away from the wall, his handsome features surrendering to a gentle smile. "Relax, Kres. I appreciate any help they can give us. You know that." He moved toward her, his eyes locked on hers. "But if you'd come through with those guns, we—"

"That job was a set-up!" She stood to meet him.

He placed his hands on her shoulders. "Take it easy," he said quietly. "I'm just teasing you."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Sorry. Next time, I'll take on the dreadnought."

He slid his arms around her waist. "You'd do that for me?" he asked playfully.

"No." She tried to pull away, but he refused to let go.

"Somehow," he gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead, "I didn't think so." He slid his hands slowly up her sides.

Pleasant sensations shivered through Kressa at his well-remembered touch. She struggled to ignore them. "Please stop that."

"You don't sound like you mean it," he whispered.

"Halav…" she started to protest as old memories threatened.

He cocked his head, brows raised in question. "Kressa?"

She sighed. They'd decided years ago to keep their interactions limited to those required by Kressa's work with the Guard, and something about Halav's current flirtations suggested that hadn't changed. Just what was he up to?

"I'll never understand you," she said. "I've been here for weeks, and you haven't done anything except give me orders. Now—"

"I haven't been able to get your attention off Westlex long enough."

"What?!" She tried to pull away again, but he held her tight.

"Don't deny it, Kres," he said, his expression stern, but the amused smile that flickered across his features ruined the effect. "I've seen the way you look at him."

She tried to muster a glare, then gave up. "Trust you to notice such things," she grumbled.

He grinned and looked past her toward the door to the waiting room, brows raised and head tilted slightly to one side as if to say "I told you so."

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Am I interrupting something?" Captain Westlex asked from behind Kressa.

A sudden flush heated her face, and she twisted out of Halav's arms.

The captain was leaning casually in the room's outer doorway, one shoulder resting on the jamb, arms crossed before him, as if he'd been there for some time.

"Bastard," Kressa hissed at Halav.

He grinned again.

Annoyed by her reaction to the captain's presence and Halav's expert manipulation of her, Kressa took a seat in an overstuffed chair away from both of the men.

Westlex crossed the room and draped himself in the chair next to hers. "Sorry about the intrusion," he said, leaning close.

She glanced at him, wondering if he'd been in on the joke. She decided he probably had, but she knew Halav well enough to realize the general had been the instigator.

"No need to apologize," she said to the captain, and then shot a nasty look at Halav. "I appreciate the interruption."

Halav sneered teasingly at her from across the room, and then glanced at Westlex. "Charming, isn't she?"

The captain gave her an appraising look. "In a sinister sort of way."

Kressa refused to dignify either of the comments with a reply.

Halav switched his attention to Westlex. "You got some news for me?"

Westlex sat up straight, suddenly all business. "Lieutenant Satra's working up at the new base, and she needs to talk to you about several things."

New base? Kressa glanced at Westlex. Had she heard him right?

Halav chuckled. "Your crew got you running messages for them now?"

Westlex shrugged. "I was coming here anyway, and you did say you wanted to maintain communications silence until all the security measures are in place."

Kressa looked at Halav. "What new base?"

"We're moving our main operations to a place in the mountains east of here," Halav said.

"What's wrong with the old base?" she asked.

"For one thing, everybody knows too damned much about it," Halav said. "I got word from Terra that Shaw's men picked up several of our people during that gun fiasco. One of them knew enough about our operation here to do a lot of damage if he talks. Besides, the old base is getting crowded." He paused. "At least it was getting crowded."

"What changed?" Kressa asked.

Halav sighed. "There's been quite a bit of anti-Guard sentiment lately. A lot of our new people have started backing out of their promises, and even some of the old-timers are beginning to renege. We're down nearly a third in personnel, and we haven't had a new volunteer in more time than I care to think about." He paused again and shook his head. "At least the Senate's still behind us, although I don't know what good that's going to do without the citizens' backing."

"It's Shaw, isn't it?" Kressa asked.

"I'm afraid so," he said, his voice bleak. "But—damn it!—I thought a threat like this would bring more support, not less."

"We'll be all right," Kressa said.

"I'm glad someone thinks so." Halav started for the door out of the waiting room. "I'd better get up to the base to see what Satra needs." He stopped in the doorway and glanced back at Kressa. "Don't forget about that comm gear. I'll have it delivered to the Conquest tomorrow morning."

"I'll be ready." She watched him disappear down the corridor and then looked at Westlex. "You and Halav seem to be getting along rather well," she all-but accused him.

He glanced away for a brief moment, and she pursed her lips to hide a satisfied smile.

He rubbed a hand across the back of his head. "To tell you the truth, he wasn't exactly what I expected when you said you'd talk to the general about getting us in touch with the Guard."

"How's that?" she asked.

"Mostly, I didn't think he'd be my age. Something about the term 'the general' made me imagine someone much older."

Kressa smiled and nodded. Her first encounter with Halav had been when he was in his late twenties and already a colonel in the Guard. She'd been only nineteen at the time. "I thought the same thing when we first met, but he joined up when he was seventeen and the Guard was just getting started, so he had a bit of a head start."

"Well, he certainly seems to know what he's doing. I hear he's going to be sending you off to Vsuna."

She nodded again. "He wants me to deliver some of the hyperwave gear your people provided."

"I'm glad he's getting that going. Now that the Patrol's got hyperwave, we're going to need the new system just to keep up with them."

"Have you figured out where the Pattys got the system?" Kressa asked.

Westlex shook his head, and a frown darkened his features. "I wish I could. As far as we can determine, all of the Patrol's new toys are based on the same principles as the Stingray's systems, a lot of which are based on ideas I came up with years ago."

"Couldn't some Patty scientist have come up with the same ideas?"

"Possibly," Westlex said, "but not very likely."

"Why not?" she asked.

Westlex stood and crossed the room to stare at the darkening cityscape projected in the image wall. "My theories were based on three generations of Teneian research. Even then, they took a huge leap of logic and an extensive rethinking of how we look at astrophysics. Hell, if the ideas hadn't come to me with most of the proofs ready to use, I would've thought I'd just had a crazy dream and gone back to sleep."

"You came up with these theories in your sleep?" Kressa asked, surprised.

"Basically, yeah."

"Isn't that a bit odd?"

His shoulders lifted in a shrug, and he glanced back at her. "I'm hardly the first person to come up with a good idea in his sleep. Besides, I'd been working on a related problem for months. I guess my subconscious was working on it, too."

"Don't you think someone else's subconscious, or whatever, could have come up with the same ideas?"

He turned to face her, his gaze intense. "Let's say that's true. Let's say some United Galaxy scientist stumbled onto the same crazy ideas I did. What are the odds that would happen so close to the time Teneia decides to help the Free Worlds?"

Kressa pursed her lips. He had a point. "Do you think someone from Teneia gave the Pattys the technology to counter your arrival?"

Westlex turned back to the image wall. "Until now, I would have said that was impossible, but it's the only explanation that makes sense." He stared at the city displayed before him. His expression, reflected in the glass, remained troubled. "But who would do such a thing? And why?"

"Maybe someone who was angry?" Kressa stepped up beside him. "Or bored? You said Teneian society is stagnating. Maybe this person just wanted to shake things up a bit."

He shook his head. "I don't believe it. No Teneian would do something like that."

"Then who would?"

He sighed. "I wish I knew."

She put a hand on his arm. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."

Westlex gave her a grateful look, his eyes steady on hers.

She held his gaze for a moment, and then looked at the image wall. Arecia's sun had dipped below the horizon. The last of its red-orange rays beamed through the haze of humidity hanging over the ocean, and lights had begun to come on across the city. Dark shadows gathered between the buildings.

"Looks like it's finally beginning to cool off," she commented.

"Let's find out," Westlex said. "Maybe we can grab a drink while we're at it."

Kressa gave him a feigned look of surprise. "Why, Captain Westlex, are you asking me out?" she said with a light-hearted smile.

"Why the hell not? And, please, call me Jonathan."

Kressa looked at the city again to hide her growing smile. A drink and first-name basis? Perhaps there was something behind her feelings, after all. She met his eyes again and nodded. "All right, Jonathan, let's go."