• • •
Lyra didn’t want
the show to go on
as if nothing had happened. If they were to allay suspicions this Fornax person aimed at Soldar, then D’uhr had to be convinced his son was only trying to get in the middle of his relationship with a Craetorian.
Added to her angst was her growing suspicion of the woman who’d brought them aboard the ship. Still, the Condorians were acting predictably. They were what they’d always been. Aigean didn’t seem to be giving them information to save her own skin. To contradict her own misgivings, she realized she’d only been left alone because of Aigean’s sex givers. Those brave men and women were keeping the officers on the Venus from paying too much attention to anyone. Using the enemy officers’ sloth against them, the prostitutes were accomplishing what endless battles and covert surveillance hadn’t. Still, instinct told her the Elderian woman was hiding something. Her staff did as she bid and more. But Aigean was playing them all. There was nothing Lyra could do to shake that gut-level feeling.
Her suspicions were amplified because the Elderian didn’t want to discuss exactly how a race never known to be neutral was suddenly accepted amongst the enemy. D’uhr may want a Craetorian lover, but the biggest question had been left pointedly unexplained.
Why?
Why was D’uhr so fixated on a man from an enemy world? If any part of Aigean’s statement was true, even Fornax seemed disbelieving of his father’s obsession.
Pieces still weren’t fitting.
Against all common sense, Sol believed he’d get on this ship without any problem. Lyra came to the immutable conclusion there simply was no guile on his part. She’d looked into his eyes and seen the depth of a man willing to do the right thing, and give his life for what he believed. Unyielding honesty was etched into his features; it resonated with every syllable he spoke.
Everything was on Aigean Florn. The woman had secrets that were very dark and disturbing. No matter how the wind blew, there was another truth being left untold.
On the other hand, if the woman wanted to offer them up to D’uhr as a means to appease his wrath or barter for her crews’ continued existence she’d have done it by now.
So what was she up to?
Lyra took a moment to watch the woman. Was there any sign of duplicity in her manner or gestures? Was
she
endowing Aigean with more power than the woman possessed? Were her suspicions paranoid?
Aigean called her servants into the space where she and Soldar slept. The minions were to help her and Soldar dress for the next performance. A glance in Sol’s direction assured Lyra he was oblivious of any treachery.
Conversely,
she
hadn’t survived by following blindly. She was a team player and took orders, but only an idiot didn’t ask questions of someone in charge. She’d seen a lot of officers get allied ground troops killed because they didn’t have experience or didn’t know the layout of the battlefield. They hadn’t wanted to be seen as incompetent so they’d recklessly thrown around commands. She wasn’t about to lower her guard and simply accept everything the Elderian stated as truth. Not anymore.
Somehow, Aigean seemed to sense the distrust she felt. The Elderian immediately stopped what she was doing, slowly turned her attention from her minions, and stared straight into Lyra’s eyes.
For a very long moment Lyra saw the animosity in this once-trusted comrade’s gaze. It was almost as if the older woman was trying to warn her off. Lyra picked up on that warning immediately.
Then Aigean blinked, turned away, and that intensity was gone. The older woman rushed forward and began to pick out clothing, disapproving of any attire Lyra had previously chosen.
“You need to look as though you aren’t afraid to show your body,” Aigean said. “Put these on. And will someone please apply makeup,” she ordered as she gestured toward a nearby minion.
The powerful moment was lost. Aigean moved to help Soldar don his attire.
Lyra said nothing to Sol. In that moment, her opinion of the Elderian woman changed. And not for the better.
• • •
Lyra dressed in the black clothing Aigean chose. It was shamefully revealing. The outfit was a tight-fitting halter top over skin-blending pants and tall black boots. She may as well have nothing on at all.
Once they were dressed, plans were quickly relayed.
She was to play the sex diva once more; undress for the so-called performance, then put the same clothing back on. There’d be no shared showers with Soldar afterward, no soft talks of his lovely world while lying in his strong arms. They’d have no time for anything remotely civilized.
Even with her wariness of Aigean, a strange sense of peace washed over her. It was fueled by Soldar’s continued consideration, bolstered by her own resolve.
He repeatedly glanced in her direction. One corner of his mouth lifted and he gazed at her with love and conviction in his eyes. He was what he’d always appeared to be — a soldier sent to get information.
Because of his attentiveness and the knowledge that death only comes once, she simply wasn’t afraid anymore. She’d still find a way to deprive the Condorians of her body while killing a few in the process. As she’d once told her lover, there was always a weapon somewhere. A broken bottle, a chair, a bit of cord used to tie bed curtains, or any heavy object like a statue.
She watched as Sol finished dressing. The clothing Aigean chose for him was as skimpy as hers. His outfit consisted of nothing more than brown leather pants, matching tall boots, and his ever-present gold armband. In an attempt to exploit D’uhr’s lust, his chest would remain bare.
She touched the armband he’d given her knowing he’d never remove it. He saw her gesture and touched his own armband. They, like the lives of their wearers, would be forfeited to the enemy.
Sol’s quiet conversation with both Aigean and the gentle servant, Gentis, came to an end. The other servants and cleaning staff that’d serviced their quarters were dismissed. There was no longer any need to guard the bulkhead computer where the authentication codes were stored. D’uhr would acquire those from the bridge soon enough. He wouldn’t have the modifications to those codes, but that wouldn’t matter. He’d know what they’d done. From here on, they were playing a game to see how long they could stay alive. They were going to pit a father against a son and see what trouble they could cause for as long as possible.
There were only four in the quarters now. Gentis, Aigean, Soldar, and Lyra stared at one another.
Soldar took a deep, cleansing breath then let it out slowly. “We’re at an end, my friends. I’d like to think a few hundred people on Taurean Seti-Seven will live to fight another day. Maybe one of their progeny will turn out to be a great leader who will vanquish the Condorians back to their home world forever.”
Lyra smiled at that bit of wishful thinking.
“Well … we can hope,” he smilingly continued. “I state the obvious when I say there’s no possibility of getting Lyra back on the bridge. But we made a difference, if only a small one. We knew our ends would come. We always have. Whatever happens tonight and tomorrow, we can’t control. What we can do is die with dignity. We can show more honor than any Condorian will ever possess. In that way, we defeat them. They’ll remember what we did. It will leave a bitter taste in their mouths forever.”
“Well spoken,” Aigean whispered. “My servants will spread the word to others within the ship. We’re all prepared, as we have been for a very long time. I regret the enemy will now have the codes to contact allied headquarters. It couldn’t be helped.”
“Don’t forget that the sequencing changes will make them ineffectual,” Soldar reminded her. “If D’uhr tried to use them to set up an ambush, he’d still need the fuel. They didn’t get it off Taurean Seti-Seven. General Shafter will be thankful for the time we bought.” He stopped and seemed to consider his words before speaking again. “Look to the stars, ladies. Tonight or by tomorrow, we’ll be among them. We’ll sail into infinity and dance in their light.
• • •
They walked through the passageways in silence and strode purposely toward the entertainment center of the vessel.
Aigean finally broke their somber contemplation.
“If it means anything, fewer Condorians will be viewing your performance tonight,” she said. “Their affliction has grown worse and spread quickly. Many of them have fallen too ill to move.”
“This is so,” Gentis confirmed, then lowered her voice. “This illness may provide the hidden allied fighters a way to at least die with honor. They have been told of the situation aboard the Venus. Many can barely move but they will still try to fight if they’re discovered.”
“And they’re now in one place,” Aigean added. “With the passageways empty it seemed prudent to move the few we had hidden in servant areas to Myranda’s quarters. It was the largest space the Condorians previously searched. They found the rust and peeling paint much less comfortable than the lounges and first class accommodation. They haven’t been back to that part of the ship since they arrived.”
Soldar considered this news. Those injured survivors were the one element D’uhr and none of his minions knew about. It was their presence he’d spoken about earlier, when he’d mentioned the one advantage they had. Now, their willingness to go into a new battle, if they had to be propped up to do it, was one more tribute to allied courage and loyalty.
“If we can take a few of these bastards with us, we will,” he stated, “but wait until the situation is right. If it comes to a fight, those injured survivors will be engaging the enemy without weapons. Even if the armory isn’t well-guarded now, the Condorians will have it heavily locked. It’d take more time than we’ll have to break into it.”
“There’s other news concerning this strange affliction,” Aigean continued. “The Condorians have been leaving their pilfered drugs where they lost consciousness. The cooks even found unlabeled bottles of pills in the galley where the guards eat. I don’t know what these pills are, but Myranda may.”
All conversation stopped when a very pale, coughing group of five Condorians rounded the corner. They were leaning on several lovely, almost nude prostitutes.
When the women walked by Soldar’s group and covertly nodded, any doubts as to the crews’ solidarity were abolished.
“Those Condorians are being taken to some space where the last of our sleeping potion will be used on them,” Aigean revealed when the sick officers were out of earshot. “When so many became ill overnight, my sex givers no longer felt obliged to give their bodies to the parasites. They can’t be beaten now for withholding their charms.”
“How much of that potion do you have?” Soldar asked.
“Very little. Only enough to immobilize a few dozen.”
Soldar realized these small acts of rebellion were playing out all over the ship. This strange malady was giving the crew a means to fight back. But there were still Condorians not so afflicted. And
they
could obtain weapons from the armory — assuming they hadn’t disobeyed D’uhr and hidden them in their quarters.
The injured survivors, Aigean’s employees, and the small group with him were all making their last stands simultaneously. He had no intention of ordering a halt. Fornax may find the message Lyra sent at any moment. That discovery would lead the enemy to the authentication codes in their quarters. He could only pray someone put a dent in the enemy before they all died. Everyone who wasn’t Condorian must take what action they deemed appropriate. This might be their last opportunity.
Finally, they reached the closed stage, with its long white curtains. Soldar took Lyra’s hand and opened his mouth to speak. She quickly stood on her toes and covered his lips with her fingertips.
“I was the one who suggested this, remember?” she told him.
“Still … I’d wish for a quieter place to spend our last moments.” He moved closer to her. “No matter what happens, remember your promise to find me in the next life.”
“I will,” she whispered.
Aigean issued her last words.
“I will not tell you how to perform this night. I’m not the mistress of this ship any longer, but will assume the position of one more soul dying with you.” She placed a hand on Soldar’s cheek. “My remaining time belongs to my crew. I have one employee who will part the curtains before he joins the rest of us. When the music starts this time, you will be alone and your performance will signal my people to cease their duties. No further commands given by the enemy aboard my vessel will be honored. I’ll make sure that single command is circulated. At long last … my people are free. May the Creator of all things go with you!”
With those words spoken, she looped her arm through Gentis’ and the two women strode away.
Soldar faced Lyra again.
The expression in her blue-green eyes was inscrutable. He knew the curtains would be parted when they were ready, so he took time to absorb her smell, warmth, and strength.
No more words could be spoken. With the deepest regret of having found a woman to love, only to order her to her death, he turned away and began to undress. As before, what they’d worn was more for the benefit of anyone still walking in the passageways. Their attire was removed now just to save time on stage. What difference did it make now how or when it came off?
Lyra removed her garb and he watched each graceful move she made, savoring everything he could before this final show.
His conscience was heavy. There were so many things he’d needed to say to his family and never would. He regretted never telling his younger brother that he loved him. Men on Craetoria weren’t so open with their feelings when they’d left to go to war, hence his father’s admonition to look after his younger sibling. He fancied there’d be a change in attitudes for those who got to see home again, for as long as homes existed.
And then there was the lie he’d told about the confrontation in D’uhr’s quarters.
There wasn’t enough time.
Words came by the hundreds. They flooded his mind along with images of home, but he couldn’t give them the voice they deserved. So he remained silent and prayed his touch would speak on his behalf.