The Price of Conquest

Garrett Atkins' head spun with the information he had just gained. During his short time on the Arecian base, he'd picked up a few small things of interest and learned the general layout of the installation. But the information he'd just heard—Tyler on Arecia, Bryant going to Calton—some of it must be important, some of it…

"Warren?"

Atkins looked up as he realized General Kamick had been calling the name of his assumed persona for several seconds.

"Yes, General? Sorry, I…" He shook his head and feigned a yawn.

Kamick, Westlex, and Mathan, the only three people left in the room besides himself, were watching him.

He formed a hasty excuse for his behavior. "I don't think I've completely adjusted to the local time yet."

The general nodded and sat back in his chair. "Was there anything else you needed to tell us, or were you just bringing Cody?"

"Uh—no, sir. I mean, that was all. Just bringing the boy to see you."

"Then I suggest you get to your quarters and get some sleep."

"Right, General. Good evening, sirs." He turned and stepped from the room, damning himself for his slip-up and hoping he'd adequately covered it.

As he made his way along the corridor outside the conference room, he wondered if he should try to collect some additional information—maybe find out why Bryant was going to Calton and discover what else had been decided at the meeting.

But no amount of information would do him any good if he could not get it to Gaunis. He'd had little time to consider how he was going to do that, his efforts having been concentrated on convincingly adopting his new persona. Now that he had something to report, however, it seemed the perfect time to see about getting the report made. But how should he do it?

By now, Gaunis or one of his people should have received the message from Captain Ackerman and would know Atkins was on Arecia. They should be trying to contact him, but it would be too dangerous to send someone to the base asking for him; after all, no one was supposed to know he was here.

Okay then, how would someone go about getting in touch with someone on the base without being too obvious? Answer: get in contact off the base; find out where the soldiers went when they left the base and look for him there.

Atkins had already heard mention of several popular bars in Cint-Istep, the city closest to the base. It would be easy enough to ask around for a few more prospects, especially at this time of night, and then he could start haunting the places, making his presence known. Gaunis's people might be looking for him already.

He headed for the main hangar where he could check out a car for the drive into Cint-Istep and maybe learn of a few more likely bars.

As he neared the hangar, he spotted a vaguely familiar form walking along the corridor ahead of him. It was the th'Maran woman Emre. Perhaps talking to her would reveal more information he could pass on to Gaunis.

He started to call out to her, but then thought better of it. No reason to attract unwanted attention to himself. Besides, she was probably headed to her room for the night; it would be easy to catch up to her in the relative quiet of the residential section of the base. But as she reached the intersection of corridors that led toward the housing area, she bypassed it and continued toward the hangar. Curious, he kept after her.

She paused several meters before the wide opening to the main hangar.

Atkins slipped into the narrow corridor that led to the hangar's overhead observation deck and peered around the corner to watch her.

She stood still for a long moment, watching the hangar opening. Once there was no one in sight except the guard on duty at the entrance, Emre stepped forward to speak to the man. Her eyes gazed deep into his, and the soldier seemed almost in a trance as he listened to her, nodding slowly.

Atkins furrowed his brow. What was the woman up to? Could she be using her mind to influence the guard? If so, why?

The guard gestured Emre across the hangar.

Atkins continued to watch, wondering what business she could have among the ships at this time of night. He followed her progress until one edge of the wide entrance obscured his view, and then he dashed down the corridor behind him. Moments later, a lift delivered him to the observation room.

The view deck was empty. He hurried across it and gazed down at the hangar, his eyes scanning the vessels for some sign of Emre.

He spotted her walking slowly through the organized tangle of shuttles and other craft, carefully avoiding the few men and women working around her. Once, when a soldier carrying some heavy piece of equipment came around a ship unexpectedly and saw her, she gestured him nearer. The man nodded once as she spoke to him, and then stepped around her and continued on his way, seemingly oblivious to what had just occurred.

Finally, she reached the southern edge of the hangar where the private ships were docked, Kressa Bryant's Conquest among them. She paused for a moment, gazing up at the freighter, and then started up the ramp. She reached the outer airlock door and laid a hand on it. She remained like that for a long moment. At last, the hatch slid open, and she stepped inside. A moment later, the airlock sealed behind her.

Atkins stared at the silent ship for several minutes, but Emre did not reappear and nothing seemed to happen within the ship.

He remained on the observation deck for another half hour, using the time to memorize the type and number of ships in the hangar, all the while keeping an eye on the silent form of the Conquest.

Finally, it became apparent that Emre would not be coming out of the ship, and Atkins believed he knew why. Emre was pregnant with Richard Shaw's children, and Shaw was on Calton. Tomorrow, Bryant would leave for Calton. Clearly, the th'Maran woman still had some attachment to Shaw and was planning to hide on the freighter during the voyage, and then emerge and seek out Shaw when the ship arrived at Calton.

Or was there a more sinister meaning to all of this? Perhaps Shaw held some power over Emre and had allowed her to remain on Arecia until she gathered some information he needed, and now he was calling her back. But how had he contacted her? Mentally, perhaps? Atkins realized he did not know enough about the extent of th'Maran powers to make any accurate guesses about Emre's actions, but everything she had done pointed to her planning a visit to Shaw without the knowledge of her Confederate counterparts.

He smiled. What would the High Admiral have to say about a th'Maran traveling from Arecia to seek out his vanquished rival?

With a final glance into the hangar, Atkins left the view deck and hurried toward the base's vehicle pool.

* * *

The Arecian capital of Cint-Istep spread across the wide plain at the western foot of the mountains that contained the Confederate base. The city's far edge bordered the ocean; to the north and south, the thick clusters of buildings gave way to stretches of farmland.

Driving the groundcar he'd checked out of the vehicle pool down the twisting mountain road from the base, Atkins first saw the city as a smattering of star-like sparks among the heavy forest that lined both sides of the roadway. The random scatter of lights emerged slowly as the road dropped into the foothills and the trees thinned. As he drew nearer to the city, the lights took on the pattern of twisting roadways and arrow-straight thoroughfares. The bright beacons of the spaceport appeared south of the city, and the glimmer of seaport lights shimmered off the ocean waters to the west. The road dipped out of the foothills and the city disappeared, to reappear moments later as the highway let out onto the plain below the mountains.

On his way to the base's vehicle pool, Atkins had spoken to several soldiers and narrowed the number of bars he would visit to the three most popular. As he reached the edge of the city, he fed the name of one of them into the vehicle's navigation system, and then turned control over to the city's traffic computers. Minutes later, the car delivered him to a tavern on the outskirts of the downtown area. He left the vehicle in the parking area behind the building and went inside.

The main room was large, multi-leveled, and dim, with a thin haze of liftstick smoke and the din of murmured conversations and rattling glassware; nothing at all like the sparkling Terran nightclubs he was accustomed to. At least a fifth of the clientele wore Confederate uniforms, and he guessed that several of the other patrons were soldiers out of uniform. He took a seat at the counter and ordered a drink.

His intention was to keep himself to a single slow drink at each of his planned stops, remaining in plain view but doing nothing to call attention to himself. If someone were looking for him, he would be easy enough to spot.

Halfway through his drink, he noticed two rough-looking men at a nearby table. Based on the similar appearance of their round, dark faces and stocky builds, he thought they might be brothers. The older of the two met and held his gaze longer than courtesy allowed.

Atkins fought down a surge of anticipation and returned his attention to his drink. Had he made contact already? The next time he looked at the two men, they were deep in conversation.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Something in their manner began to worry him. If they were in Gaunis's employ, wouldn't they approach and try to ascertain his identity, simply claiming an error in judgment if he were not the man they sought? They continued their quiet conversation.

At one point, they stopped a passing soldier who seemed to know them. They spoke with him for several moments and gestured vaguely in Atkins' direction. The soldier followed the gesture, briefly met Atkins' gaze with a neutral look, and then nodded to the two dark men and left their table. Finally, the younger man got up and slipped out of the bar.

Atkins began to worry in earnest. Who were the men and why had they spoken with the soldier? Did someone suspect him already? He knew he dare not bolt or make any sudden move that might prove his guilt. Instead, he casually loosened his laser pistol in its holster beneath his jacket and continued to sip leisurely at his drink, waiting to see what would happen next.

For close to fifteen minutes, nothing happened. And then, just as Atkins decided his understandable paranoia had got the best of him, the younger man reappeared in the doorway. A tall bearded man stood in the shadows beside him. Atkins kept his head turned forward and watched the two men from the corner of his eye.

They conversed for a moment, and then ducked back out the doorway. Less than a minute later, the younger man returned to his table without giving Atkins another look.

Atkins decided he'd had enough mystery for one evening and headed out of the bar. He cast a wary glance at the two brothers as he passed their table. They didn't even look up.

He stepped into the cool night air and headed around the side of the building toward the brightly lit parking area where he left the car.

"Atkins." The call came as a low hiss behind him.

He wheeled, and his hand moved automatically toward his gun.

"Who's there?" he said, his voice low, but even as he turned, he knew he'd made a fatal mistake by reacting to the name.

The bearded man he had seen in the doorway with the younger brother stood in the shadows behind him. He held a small pulse gun. The stranger stepped forward into the light of a street lamp, and the brightness glinted from his mahogany eyes.

"You're still not very fast with that pretty little pistol of yours, Garrett," the stranger said. He lowered his gun to his side and gestured for Atkins to return his half-drawn weapon to its holster.

Slowly, Atkins slipped his gun back into hiding. There was something familiar about the bearded man's disparaging tone. He studied the man's eyes and the handsome features hidden beneath the neatly trimmed beard.

"Tyler?" Atkins asked. Yes, it was him. "Damn it, Devin, don't call me that! My name's Scott Warren."

"Sorry—Warren. Aren't you as cocky as big brother Garth? Sneaking onto Arecia and—"

"Don't!" Atkins hissed under his breath, and then peered past Tyler to be sure no one heard the older man's comments. "How did you find me?"

"I let it be known that I was searching for someone who looked like you," Tyler said, making his gun disappear beneath his jacket, "and that I was willing to pay a large sum to whoever located you."

"The two brothers in the bar?" Atkins asked.

"They're cousins."

"Whatever." He'd forgotten what an insolent bastard Devin Tyler could be. "Do you think that's safe?" He backed into the concealing shadows beside the building and beckoned Tyler to join him. "Now they know we're associated. And they were talking to one of the soldiers!"

Tyler shrugged. "They don't know who I am, and I told them you weren't the guy I was looking for, then gave them a couple hundred credits for their trouble and asked them to keep looking. In a few days, I'll put out the word that the man I'm looking for has gone off-planet, then pay everyone enough to keep them quiet about the search."

"All that just to find me?" Atkins asked. "I take it Gaun—"

Tyler stopped him with a sharp look. "Now there's a name you shouldn't be saying out loud, Warren. But, yes, our… mutual benefactor told me you were here and provided the funds for me to locate you. He's very impressed by this little trick of yours, by the way, assuming you can pull it off."

"I already have," Atkins said. "And I have some information I think our benefactor will be interested in."

Tyler smiled mockingly. "Truly Garth's baby brother. Didn't waste any time, eh?"

Despite the sarcastic intonation of Tyler's words, Atkins felt a thrill of satisfaction at being compared to his brother and being complimented, however derisively, by Devin Tyler.

"I assume your Confederate friends know I've escaped from Marasyn," Tyler said.

Atkins nodded. "Some boy arrived tonight. He told them what happened."

"Cody." Tyler said the name aloud, but apparently to himself.

"They think you're going to try to contact our benefactor. They want to stop it."

"I'm afraid they're a little late for that," Tyler said. "And now it's time we got you in contact with him."

* * *

They took Tyler's car to a small townhouse near the Cint-Istep waterfront. There they were met by Tarell Lehrton, a middle-aged gentleman whose quiet, unassuming manner made it difficult for Atkins to believe he held the rank of commander in High Admiral Gaunis's Special Corps.

Lehrton invited them into a plush sitting room and offered them drinks. Tyler refused, but Atkins gratefully accepted the hospitality. Lehrton then set about interviewing Atkins, pressing for information about the Confederate command personnel, asking for names, descriptions, relationships. He probed Atkins' description of the base and the ships he had seen, and made him repeat many details of the intelligence he gathered.

Almost against his will, Atkins told Lehrton everything he could remember, even imparting the details of a few events he could not consciously recall observing. Sometime during the interview, he began to suspect Lehrton put something in his drink to make the remembering easier and cause him to be more receptive to the Special Corps officer's questions, but he effortlessly pushed away his righteous indignation at the possibility of having been drugged and told himself Lehrton was only doing his job. Yet even his acceptance of Lehrton's actions seemed too easy, as if the drug lowered his ability to protest the treatment.

Lehrton expressed pleasure at every scrap of intelligence Atkins delivered, and he seemed particularly pleased with the news that Emre would be going to Calton. Even Tyler reacted strongly to that information. Atkins tried to question their response, but Lehrton hurried him on.

After the questioning, Lehrton supplied him with a modest but satisfying credit account, promising him the spending limit would increase as long as he continued his work at the base.

The speed and thoroughness of Lehrton's set-up impressed Atkins, and when he learned that Gaunis would have the information within hours, he began to realize precisely how valuable his presence among the Confederates really was. But before he could carry that line of thought any further, Lehrton hurried him and Tyler out of the townhouse, telling them how to contact him next time and insisting they not return to this address, for he would be moved out by the following evening.

Atkins left in an exhausted daze, wondering if his lie to General Kamick about his slow adaptation to local time had some truth to it or if his fatigue was simply the aftereffect of whatever drug Lehrton had given him.

"Why is Gaunis so interested in Emre going to Calton?" he asked Tyler on the drive back to his car.

"Gaunis isn't interested in the woman," Tyler answered after a long moment. "He wants her children."

"Shaw won't let Gaunis near them."

"I doubt the High Admiral intends to ask for Shaw's permission."

"But Shaw's on Calton," Atkins said. "He'll be able to get to Emre first."

Tyler shrugged, his lack of concern for the matter obvious in his expression. "What if he does? Do you think Gaunis would hesitate to remove Shaw or anyone else who gets between him and what he wants? Hell, if he can make it look like he's not involved, Gaunis would probably jump at the chance to get rid of Shaw. Why do you think he sent the bastard to Calton in the first place?"

"Why does he want the children?" Atkins asked.

"I think it has to do with something I learned on Marasyn," Tyler said, his voice almost thoughtful. "Something Gaunis seems very interested in…"

Atkins recalled Bryant's concern about what Tyler knew of the th'Maran and the fact that he might relay that information to the High Admiral. "What?"

"Just—a rumor," Tyler said, but the catch in his voice indicated it was much more than that.

Atkins cursed the man for his evasiveness. "Damn it, Devin, answer me! I'm in this as deep as you are."

Tyler stared briefly into his eyes as if implanting a threat. Atkins felt an odd tingling in his head, and a strange lethargy settled over him. He blinked hard to drive the feeling away, attributing it to further effects of Lehrton's drug.

"All right," Tyler answered finally and returned his attention to the road ahead of them. "I'll tell you. But first…" He looked at Atkins and caught his eyes again. "Are there any other th'Maran on the base?"

"A few," he said.

"Are any of them having relations with humans?"

"I don't know. I guess some might. I haven't exactly had time to lock onto anyone's private affairs."

"Well, keep an eye on them." Tyler gave Atkins another head-lightening look that made him swallow uneasily. "And you tell me, not Lehrton, if any of them are having relationships with humans."

Atkins peeled his eyes from Tyler's strangely compelling gaze, but found himself nodding agreement with the request. "Fine, but—" he risked another momentary glance at the older man, "—why?"

"There's something special about the children of a human-th'Maran pairing," Tyler answered after a long pause. "They're supposed to have the abilities of both their parents, the physical aptitude of their human parent and the mental powers of the th'Maran."

Atkins sneered, disappointed by the information. This was what all the fuss was about? Some vague possibility of children with overblown powers, and not a conspiracy involving Shaw and the th'Maran? What did Gaunis intend to do if the rumors were true? Breed a legion of half-breed children for his own personal use? Atkins almost laughed at that, but after taking a moment to consider the psyche of the man in question, he realized he might very well have hit on the High Admiral's plan.

"But I thought Gaunis hated th'Maran," he said, voicing the only flaw he could find in his theory. "What would he want with their children?"

"Gaunis does not hate th'Maran," Tyler said. "He fears their abilities and how those abilities can be used against him."

"So, if he can get some of these children, he can make sure they're raised to believe in his plans," Atkins guessed. "And if the children are more powerful than their parents, he'll have something to protect him against the other th'Maran."

"Pretty damned perceptive, Atki— Warren," Tyler said. "But, remember, you tell me about any more pregnant th'Maran, not Lehrton."

"Sure. Whatever you say." He let his attention drift to the dark streets outside the car. Tyler wasn't planning to get one of these children for himself, was he? Why? There was only one answer Atkins could come up with: to protect himself from other such children. The ones Gaunis planned to raise, or those born into the Confederacy? Or both?

"Bryant said it was Gaunis, not Shaw, who sent you and the others to Marasyn," Atkins said into the silence.

An intense emotion crossed Tyler's face, but the look disappeared before Atkins could be certain what the older man was feeling.

"That's no surprise," Tyler said calmly. "Gaunis had a lot of good reasons to get rid of me at the time without making it look like he needed to. But… all that's passed. He's given me enough credits to pay my way and get me off Arecia when I'm ready to leave."

"When will that be?" Atkins asked.

Tyler glared at him. "You know, Garrett, sometimes you're too much like your brother. You ask too damn many questions."

Atkins' face flushed with anger, but he clamped his mouth shut and turned his eyes forward again. The remainder of the drive passed in silence.

"How do I find you again?" he asked as he slipped out of Tyler's car in the parking lot behind the bar.

"Are you going to keep coming here?" Tyler asked.

"I guess I could."

"Then I'll find you." He gunned the car's engine. "See you around, Warren."

Atkins watched the car out of sight, and then crossed to his own vehicle, numb and fatigued, suddenly aware of how much the night's activities had taken out of him.

He slid into the car and thought fondly of the soft bed in the tiny cubicle that served as his quarters on the Confederate base. He tried to keep his mind centered on that one thing during the long drive up the mountainside, but thoughts of Emre and the other th'Maran he had met kept gnawing at the edges of his awareness, along with images of strange, silver-eyed children with inhuman powers.