The Price of Conquest

Jonathan accompanied Kressa through the lobby of the Cint-Istep government building and wondered what in hell he was doing. Of all the things he thought might happen on this crazy mission to save Teneia from itself, finding himself attracted to anyone—especially someone like Kressa Bryant—hadn't even made the list. Yet, with a few notable exceptions among the Stingray's crew, Kressa was so refreshingly different from the Teneian women he knew that he wondered if it weren't inevitable.

You just keep telling yourself that, Westlex.

Of course, Halav's insistence that Kressa might have similar feelings toward him hadn't helped any, not to mention the less-than-subtle demonstration the general had wrangled her into outside of his office earlier.

For a moment, Jonathan wondered if he should apologize to her for that, but she hadn't seemed terribly upset about it at the time, and he decided it was probably best not to bring it up.

Ahead of them, the tall, tinted glass doors that led outside opened automatically at their approach, and Jonathan followed Kressa into the large quad that filled the area between the main government building and its two shorter wings.

The worst of the day's heat had dissipated with the coming of evening, but the temperature remained high, and the quad was empty save for a single man who stepped from the building to Jonathan's left and hurried to a groundcar waiting on the side of the road at the quad's far end.

Jonathan watched the car pull into the roadway's sparse traffic, and then glanced up at the only slightly busier aircar lane overhead.

What little he'd seen of downtown Cint-Istep seemed surprisingly similar to downtown Lanning, Teneia's largest city. Then again, he mused as he accompanied Kressa across the quad, how different were modern human cities likely to be? From the images he'd seen of other such places, it wasn't until you got away from a city's built-up municipal district that the differences in landscape features and cultural influences really began to show.

He stopped abruptly as another thought struck him.

"What is it?" Kressa asked, halting beside him.

"I just realized this is the first time I've had a chance to walk around on a planet that isn't Teneia."

Kressa gave him a baffled look. "But you've been down here on Arecia at least a dozen times."

"Sure, but the only places I've been are the Guard bases and here at headquarters. All I've seen of Arecia has been from orbit, or from inside a shuttle or aircar."

Kressa turned to face him with a smile. "Then let me welcome you to your first new planet."

He returned her smile and motioned her forward. She continued across the quad, and he fell in beside her again.

"I guess you've been to a lot of different planets," he said, "being a trader and all."

She shrugged. "They're not all that different, at least not those with native human populations. Sure they have unique plants and animals and such, but other than that they're pretty much the same. I mean, humans couldn't have evolved on them if they were crazy different, right?"

He nodded.

"Some of the colony worlds can be pretty wild, though," she continued. "And a few of them are downright dangerous. What about Teneia? What's it like?"

"Compared to Arecia?" he asked. "'Sparsely populated' would probably be your first thought. We've been there less than a century—not a lot of time to settle an entire planet. But I think you'd find it familiar. It's actually one of the worlds that had—or would have had—a native human population."

"What do you mean?"

"We've found fossil evidence of early humans on Teneia, but something wiped them out a few hundred thousand years ago. Our anthropologists suspect it was part of a normal extinction event—natural climate change or something similar. Apparently it's not the only planet where that happened. Alliance records indicate there were at least two other worlds their scouts found that had evidence of human life in the past. Doubtless there are more out there we have yet to find."

They had reached the sidewalk and roadway that marked the end of the quad.

Kressa glanced at him. "Any particular place you'd like to go?" she asked.

He studied the city spread out ahead of them. "I don't know. What do people around here do for fun?"

Kressa chuckled. "They go to Varen."

"Where's that?"

She turned around and pointed back the way they'd come to the dark silhouette of the mountains beyond the government building. "That way, about two hundred klicks over those mountains."

He followed her gaze. He was familiar with the mountains; it was where the Guard's new base was located. "I guess we won't be walking there."

"No, but we can take the Conquest," she said. "We could be there in less than an hour, make a night of it," she smiled devilishly, "and be back in the morning before anyone misses us."

"Sounds good," he said, trying to ignore the swarm of possibilities her suggestion elicited.

"Let's get to the spaceport, then. Would you rather walk or grab a ride?"

"First time on a new planet, remember?" He gave her a smile. "Let's take a walk."

"This way," Kressa said, and started down the sidewalk to the left. "So, what do you and Halav plan to do once the Teneian comm gear's been delivered to the other Free Worlds?"

"Contact the admirals with a deal they can't refuse."

"Which is…?" she prompted.

"They agree to leave the Free Worlds alone to operate on their own and trade with whoever they want, and we'll give them a fair chance to join in that trade."

"Do you think the admirals will go for that?" Kressa asked.

"Hopefully, they won't have much of a choice."

"Hopefully."

"Speaking of the admirals," Jonathan said, as they continued to make their way through the nearly deserted downtown area, "how did Admiral Shaw's daughter end up working with the Free World Guard?"

"I already told you. He stuck me in the San Francisco Patrol Academy right after I was born. I got sick of it and ran away."

"There must be more to the story than that. Why did he put you in the Academy?"

"It's a fairly common practice," she said with a shrug. "Takes the burden of raising the kids off Patrol officers and makes sure the Pattys always have a crop of eager young cadets."

Jonathan shook his head, appalled that any government would allow the military indoctrination of children at such a young age. "Didn't your mother object?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Apparently she and Shaw had some sort of falling out, because they didn't renew their marriage contract after I was born. I really don't know much about her. Her name was…" Kressa's brow crinkled. "Kaitryen den-Astel an'Seera, or something like that. She was the daughter of some minor Nepurhan royal household. I really don't remember her."

Jonathan paused to catch Kressa's gaze. "She must have been very beautiful," he said softly.

Kressa groaned and all but rolled her eyes. "Don't remind me."

He stared at her, surprised by her reaction. "What do you mean?"

"These 'beautiful' looks and this 'wonderful' body," she said, her voice filled with disdain, "are some geneticist's idea of perfection. You see, Jonathan, if you're powerful enough, you can buy 'perfect' offspring—strong, healthy, beautiful. That's the kind of crap the United Galaxy and its all-mighty admirals think is important. That and keeping their larders filled with Free World goods to maintain their illusion of prosperity."

Jonathan laid a hand on her arm. She looked up and met his eyes.

"Beautiful or not," he said quietly, brushing a stray lock of hair off her forehead, "I like you for who you are and what you believe in."

* * *

Kressa smiled at Jonathan's words, her eyes locked on his, and started to answer, but he looked away suddenly, brow furrowed.

"What—?" She started to question him, but he dashed to the nearest intersection and gazed down the adjoining side street.

Kressa hurried after him. "What is it?" she asked.

"Listen."

Kressa held her breath and strained to hear anything unusual above the soft drone of the city's ground traffic. After a moment, the faint murmur of voices reached her, as if a crowd had gathered somewhere nearby, its members speaking quietly among themselves.

"They could be anywhere," she said.

"No. Come on, this way." He started down the side street at a brisk walk.

Kressa stared after him, perplexed. What possible motive could he have for following the sound?

"Jonathan, wait!"

He kept walking.

Bewildered, she hurried after him.

After two short blocks, they located the source of the voices. A large group of people had congregated before the double-doored entrance of a large, single-storeyed structure. Light poured through the open doorway, illuminating the surrounding crowd and casting long shadows into the street. Groundcars packed a well-lit parking area to the left of the building. People continued to approach, both on foot and in vehicles, and those waiting outside the structure began to file in.

"Let's go inside," Jonathan said.

Kressa hesitated, disturbed by the scene. Something was working deep in her mind, setting her nerves on edge. "I don't think so."

"Why?"

"There's… something wrong here." She realized how weak the excuse sounded, but she knew better than to ignore her intuition.

"Look, the rest of the people are going in," he said. "Let's see what it's about."

Still, she hesitated. "I'm not sure…"

"Come on, we'll just take a peek inside to see what's happening."

She stared at him, frowning. Why was he being so insistent?

"Aren't you curious?" he asked.

"I— All right, fine. Let's go."

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They entered the building with the last of the stragglers, and Kressa glanced around suspiciously.

The square, unornamented chamber utilized a little over a quarter of the building's total area. Rows of chairs covered most of the floor, all of them occupied. The latecomers, Kressa and Jonathan among them, remained standing, crowded into the back of the room. At the front stood a short platform with a podium. Kressa saw two doors in addition to the one they had come through: one on the wall to her left and a second one behind the platform. Two men stood by each, their presence ignored by the crowd. Kressa would have ignored them, as well, if not for the watchful eye they kept on the people in the room. She'd seen enough guards in her life to recognize their type. But what were they guarding?

Her unease continued to grow.

The door behind the platform opened, and an anticipatory hush settled over the room. All eyes turned toward the opening. After several seconds, a robed and hooded figure stepped through it.

Something brushed against Kressa's awareness like a whisper of cool air behind her eyes, and memories of her recent visit to Varen's Street of Temples flooded her mind. She gasped and took a startled step backward. A heartbeat later, her psi-training took over, and her mental shields slammed into place.

With a start, she realized what must have happened. Somehow, the memories of her encounter with the priests in Varen had been buried deep inside her mind, away from conscious recall, and had come to the surface only at sight of the gray-robed figure. Now she understood her feelings of unease outside the building; her subconscious must have sensed the priest's presence and tried to warn her. But how had the memories been buried in the first place? Had the Varen priests done something to cause it?

Troubled by what she recalled of her Varen encounter and what she was experiencing now, she studied the people around her. Their faces held the same expressions of rapt attention she recalled from the crowd in Varen, and her apprehension began to edge upward into full-blown panic. She strengthened her mental shields and fought the encroaching desire to flee. Finally, her uncharacteristic terror ebbed, replaced by a more realistic sense of alarm as she looked at the people around her again and began to suspect what might be happening.

Of all the known human races, only the Ilekians and the Nepurhans had evolved psi abilities as a racial trait. Even then, the talents were rare and few people took the time to learn to use them, thanks in no small part to the belief that such abilities were dangerous, a belief strongly encouraged by the United Galaxy. Yet even among those like herself who saw through the lies and sought training, no one, not even a fully trained Ilekian Adept, had the ability to affect so many people at once.

"Jonathan, we need to get out of here," she whispered; her choice, this time, not the subconscious urging of another mind. She turned to leave.

"No, Kressa. Stay here." His voice held an unmistakable tone of command.

She started to question him, but his attention was riveted to the front of the room. She followed his gaze to watch as the shrouded figure moved forward to mount the platform and stand at the podium. Then it began to speak.

"People of Cint-Istep, people of Arecia, you are here because you believe, as do we, that there is no need for the fighting or the violence against the United Galaxy." The priest's voice seemed hardly above a whisper, yet in the room's profound silence, it reached every corner. "There is no reason to resist the brotherhood of unity with your fellow humans. Such resistance can lead only to destruction, for yourself and for your people…"

Kressa stopped listening. She'd heard it all before, and noting the solemn nods of the people around her, she knew many of them weren't hearing it for the first time either.

"Jonathan." She placed a hand on his arm.

"Quiet, Kressa. Listen to him."

"Damn it, I am listening," she hissed. "Can't you hear what he's saying?"

"Shhh…"

She snarled silently in frustration. She had to make him understand what was being done to him. She closed her eyes. Using the contact of her hand with his arm as a bridge, she tried to shield his mind with her own. She feared she did not possess the strength or discipline necessary to break the priest's hold, but when her mind touched Jonathan's awareness, something responded. It brushed aside the priest's influence as easily as she might brush away an insect.

She stared at him, amazed.

Jonathan looked momentarily confused, and then he frowned. "Right. Let's go."

Together, they backed out of the room.

Once outside, Jonathan took hold of Kressa's arm and turned her to face him. "What did you do to me in there?" He kept his voice low, but Kressa detected a note of suspicion in his tone.

"I showed your mind how to block what that priest was doing," she said.

"What?" he asked, his suspicious tone replaced by curiosity. "My… mind? How?"

"I told you: my mother was Nepurhan." She scanned the deserted street and walkways around the building, eager to get out of sight.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jonathan asked.

Kressa continued to glance up and down the street. "We shouldn't be out in the open like this." She led him into the alley along the right side of the building where the shadows would better conceal them, and then turned to face him. "Last time I was in Varen, I saw a temple with these same priests. They were saying all this grand stuff about peace and unity, like our friend in there." She nodded toward the building. "It was very convincing. A little too convincing. When the priest appeared this time, I felt a touch on my mind and—"

"Wait, Kressa, that's where you lose me. Do you mean to tell me you have some kind of mental abilities?" He sounded skeptical.

"I told you, I'm half Nepurhan. You do know that some Nepurhans are born with psi potential, right?"

"I've heard stories, but…" His voice trailed off, and he shook his head. "I thought that's all they were. Stories."

"Maybe some of them are, but some are true," Kressa said. "Apparently, my mother carried the genes for psi potential, because I inherited them. After the Vsuna uprising, I spent a few years on Ilek training with an Adept to learn how to control my abilities. My master died before I could finish the training, but I learned enough to recognize what's going on here."

Jonathan took a small—and, Kressa felt certain, subconscious—step away from her. "You can read minds?"

"No." She shook her head at the common misconception. "It's not possible to read someone's mind unless they want to give you specific information, or you can get them to think hard about what you want to know. Even then, just making a connection strong enough to do that takes a lot of training."

Jonathan's knitted brow indicated his confusion remained.

Kressa hurried to explain. "A mind is like a data card without an index. The only way you can get to the information you want is by going through the entire card until you find what you're looking for. To do that with all of the information in a person's mind would be impossible. It would take too much time and more energy than even the best Ilekian Master has. But you can put information, or at least very strong suggestions, into a mind. I think that's what these priests are doing."

Jonathan glanced at the building beside them. "I think we may have found the cause of the Guard's suddenly apathetic troops."

Kressa's eyes widened in surprise. "But if the priests are after the Guard…"

"Then the Patrol could be behind the priests," Jonathan finished for her.

"Let's find some proof of that," Kressa said.

"How do you propose we do that?"

She inclined her head toward the structure beside them. "Get inside and see what they're hiding."

Jonathan studied her for a moment, clearly trying to decide whether to take her seriously. "Okay, let's do it."

She led him to the far side of the building and located a door adjacent to the parking area. A printlock sealed the barrier.

Kressa drew a small pulse gun from the holster concealed under the long, loose shirt she wore and handed it to Jonathan. "Watch my back."

She pressed a thumb hard against the top of the printlock's scanplate and used her other hand to pry it loose. A quick glance at the inner workings told her all she needed to know; she could crack this lock in her sleep.

She extracted a length of wire from a fold on the underside of her belt, bent it in half, twisted the two ends forward, and held the three-pronged tool up to the lock's bare innards. She made a slight adjustment to the angle of one of the bends, touched the ends of the wire to three points on the scanning circuitry, and tapped the input sensor.

The door slid open, revealing a dark chamber. Kressa pocketed her makeshift lockpick and pressed the scanplate back into place.

"I thought you were a trader," Jonathan said with a hint of a smile, "not a burglar."

She shrugged. "You learn things." She led him through the open door, closed it behind them using the interior controls, and looked around.

They had entered a meeting room less than half the size of the main chamber. Several rows of chairs covered the carpeted floor. A second door stood opposite the one they came through. Kressa crossed to it and listened, then slid it open far enough to peer into the wide, lighted hallway that ran across the opening.

The corridor ended in a door two meters to her right, but continued for nearly the length of the building in the opposite direction before terminating in a cross corridor. Across the hallway and a meter or so to her left, a closed door led presumably into the main chamber. There was a second door, this one on her side of the corridor, a couple of meters past that. The dim sounds of idle conversation issued from one of several openings farther down.

Assured the hallway was empty, she slipped from the room with Jonathan close behind her, stopped at the second door, and pressed an ear to it.

At first she could only make out the rush of blood in her head and the slightly nervous pounding of her heart, then came the distinctive sounds of a voice. The words were too muffled to understand, but she could tell by the timbre that they came over a comm. The voice faded to silence, and someone inside the room spoke.

"Yes, sir, I'll tell him right away."

More muffled comm talk.

"Affirmative. Istep out." Footsteps started for the door.

Kressa waved a hand behind her. Together, she and Jonathan scuttled back to the meeting room and peered out.

A man stepped through the comm room doorway and hurried left down the hall, away from where they hid. He made his way to the end of the corridor and turned left again.

Kressa indicated the comm room. "Our proof may be in there," she whispered.

Jonathan nodded, and they crept back to the door. Kressa listened again, opened it, and slipped inside. Jonathan closed the door behind them.

Communication and surveillance equipment lined the front wall of the small chamber, and a floor-to-ceiling supply cabinet covered the back. A closed door led out of the room to the right with a small table beside it.

"Keep watch," Kressa said, then crossed the room and listened at the far door. Silence. She eased it open and glanced around the dark, empty chamber beyond. An opening to the right led back into the corridor. Voices drifted from another opening across the hallway. She ducked back inside the comm room, eased the door shut, and made her way to the surveillance console.

A monitor screen above the control board showed the scene in the main hall where the priest was still speaking. Kressa scanned the controls below the viewer, located the selector, and changed the setting. Now the screen showed two men and a woman seated around a table playing some game with cards and dice; possibly the source of the voices she'd heard across the hallway. Another viewer selection revealed only darkness. The next showed a small room, its single occupant seated on a low cot, back against a wall, eyes closed in rest or meditation.

Kressa stared at the monitor in wonder. "Jonathan, look at this."

He glanced up from his post at the door and furrowed his brow. "What is that?"

"One of those priests, I think."

The being on the viewer appeared human, but it looked like no human Kressa had ever seen. Pale-skinned and silver-haired, he had fine features, which if not for their strange beauty, might be considered gaunt.

"Have you ever seen anyone like that?" she asked quietly, captivated by the image.

Jonathan studied the screen for a long time. "I… don't think so."

The being looked up suddenly. His platinum eyes met Kressa's through the viewer, and an odd mixture of shock, sadness, and concern swept over her. She gasped and stumbled back a step, then switched the monitor back to its view of the main hall. Slowly, the feelings faded.

Jonathan continued to stare at the screen.

"Jonathan?" Kressa said.

He didn't respond.

"Jonathan!" she called, her voice quiet but firm. She took a step toward him and felt a flicker of concern when he gave no indication that he heard her. "Captain Westlex?"

He turned his head slowly, his features slack, eyes glassy.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again and glanced at the screen, brows drawn together. "I—think so." He looked at her. "What happened?"

"You tell me."

"That… being on the screen, it… He contacted me. In my head. I felt him touch… something, and then he was gone." He studied the monitor again, as if imagining the pale being. "He seemed surprised or… frightened, maybe?"

Kressa recalled his mind's powerful response to her attempt to shield it. Had she awakened some latent psi ability?

"Let's find our proof and get out of here." She cast a final uneasy glance at the screen and started toward the supply cabinet. As she passed the small table, she took hold of a corner and lifted it. The impression made by the pressure of the footpad on the carpet rose immediately, leaving almost no mark. "Whoever these people are, I don't think they've been here very long." She let the table drop back into place and went to the cabinet. It was unlocked.

Inside, a small collection of Patrol personal communication gear and weapons sat on a shelf. She searched through the arsenal until she found a small, newer model pulse gun. The gauge registered full charge.

"I've always wanted one of these," she said.

"Patrol?" Jonathan asked.

"All of it." She started to close the cabinet, but a small red box on a lower shelf caught her eye. She recognized the fleet insignia on the lid. "This is from Admiral Gaunis," she said, surprised. "What does he have to do with any of this?" She opened the box. It was empty.

"Someone's coming," Jonathan hissed and dashed to the side door.

Kressa closed the cabinet and joined him. They slipped out the door, and Jonathan slid it shut. Behind them, she heard the comm room door open. Soft footfalls moved toward the monitor station, and then stopped. Kressa listened for several moments longer. Satisfied the man did not suspect their presence, she followed Jonathan to the hallway opening and peered out.

Across the corridor, the two men and a woman she'd seen on the surveillance monitor sat within another small room, laughing and joking, too caught up in their game to notice the movement in the dark room opposite theirs. Each wore a Patrol pulse gun holstered at their side.

Kressa pulled back from the opening. "We'll need to get past those three. Cover me."

Jonathan nodded.

With a cautious glance along the corridor, Kressa slipped from the concealing shadows into the bright hallway and started for the meeting room door.