Sleeping With the Enemy (13 page)

    “This is Commander l’Kartay speaking. Please return to your seats and fasten your safety harnesses. We will be landing at moon base in five minutes.”

    Having located the speaker by the time he’d finished his announcement, Sybil glared at it. She hadn’t even taken her damned harness off!

    Maybe it was his idea of a joke?

    He hadn’t seemed in the mood for humor.

    She was still convinced it was an exaggeration until she felt the ship settle with a definite thump against something solid.

    The door opened while she was still trying to figure out how to unfasten the harness. Anka approached her and crouched in front of her, pushing her hands away. It took an effort to resist the urge to ask him if they had arrived, but she managed it. She wasn’t about to let on how impressed she was if it killed her!

    “There is no docking facility here to accommodate our ship. You’ll need a suit for the trip to the airlock.”

    Rising, he moved across the room and opened a locker. The suit he removed was much like the one he was wearing-very much like the suits they all wore in their Venus base. It hadn’t occurred to her that they were protective gear. They didn’t look anything like the clumsy suits they had to use for protection on the moon-because of the lack of atmospheric pressure.

    “Aren’t these for the conditions on Venus?” she asked doubtfully.

    He shrugged. “They are for any conditions not conducive to life. It will protect you,” he said, extending it toward her.

    Still doubtful and uneasy, she took it. She paused in the act of pulling it on, however, and decided to discard the clothing he’d provided. Not only did she not relish the thought of being seen in it when she went in to decontamination, she also didn’t want it around as a reminder. Anka, who’d been occupied with searching for gauntlets, boots, and a helmet, did a double take when he glanced at her.

    She ignored the look, removing both the skirt and the top, although she was actually a little reluctant to discard the latter. She also didn’t like the idea of having nothing but her panties beneath the suit, but the thought of having the top around as a reminder was enough to bolster her decision.

    The suit was far too big. It didn’t surprise her. The
ferils
were a tall race. Anka was no more than average among his own people even if he was damned tall next to humans. “I hope the fit isn’t going to be a problem.”

    “It won’t be,” he said grimly, holding out the rest of the gear she needed.

    She took them and pulled the boots on, taking care to seal them with the suit and then took the helmet and fastened it, leaving the gauntlets for last. Anka checked the fittings behind her. She resented it in a way, but she wasn’t certain enough she’d done it right to bet her life on it.

    “Wait here.”

    Sighing, she sat down on the chair. He returned a few minutes later wearing his helmet and gauntlets and her belly clenched. “You’re going to escort us inside?”

    “I am.”

    Sybil felt her throat close. “Do really think that’s a good idea?”

    He sent her a piercing look. “Perhaps not the best, but I intend to hand you over personally.”

    “Why don’t send some of your men?” she asked plaintively.

    “I never ask my men to do anything I wouldn’t do myself,” he said tightly.

    “But… you’re the commander!” she said, distressed.

    “Exactly!”

    Sybil bit her lip. “Damn it, Anka! You’re more of a target and you know it!”

    “You believe I’ll be a target?”

    She swallowed with an effort against the knot in her throat. “I don’t know. I just… I just don’t want you to risk it. Please don’t! It isn’t worth taking a chance. You said you were trying to prevent a war. If anything was to happen to you…”

    “If anything ‘happened’ to any of my men, the end result would be the same,” he said grimly. “Make no mistake about that.
None
of my people are expendable.”

    But
she
didn’t care about the rest of them! Not only was that not likely to please him, however, it also wasn’t likely to move him. Struggling to take an even breath, she gave up the effort to dissuade him and approached him. When he stepped back to allow her into the corridor, she discovered her fellow crewmembers assembled a little further along the corridor and two Sumpturians. When she and Anka reached them she noticed the corridor behind the group abruptly change. She stared at it, trying to figure out what it was. It almost looked like water. It rippled. As it dawned on her that it must be some sort of field, she glanced behind her and discovered a similar phenomena had sealed off the other end of the corridor. To her right, a door appeared in the wall. As she watched, the ramp she’d used to enter the ship extended and lowered.

    Anka lifted her and followed Drs. Kushbu and Rain down the plank. Behind them, the two men she’d seen guided a capsule on wheels where Major Powell lay. A transport, she discovered, awaited them at the foot of the gangplank. A man approached them trailed by two armed squads of men. Sybil recognized the features of the base commander behind the face shield.

    He stopped while he was still several yards from where they stood. Anka hesitated and then approached the man. “Lieutenant Hunter’s ankle is injured. I will take her inside.”

    “That won’t be necessary,” Commander Kendal responded coldly, signaling to one of the men behind him. “Pvt. Yancy! Assist Lieutenant Hunter into the transport.”

    Yancy saluted, shouldered his weapon and approached.

    “I can walk,” Sybil said stiffly.

    “She can’t,” Anka instantly contradicted her, tightening his hold on her.

    “I can carry you, ma’am, if you’ll permit?”

    Resisting the urge to glance at Anka one last time, Sybil nodded. “Thank you, Pvt. Yancy.” Removing her arm from Anka’s shoulders, she reached for the other man. For a moment longer, Anka held her and then he released her.

    She couldn’t resist glancing back, however, when Yancy entered the airlock with her. Commander Kendal seemed to be speaking with Anka, but Anka was staring straight at her.

Chapter Eight

    The debriefing was every bit the nightmare Sybil had anticipated. It became clear after only a few minutes that they were suspected of something. Unfortunately, she’d been right about being separated. None of them were given the chance to compare notes before they were whisked from the landing site and into decontamination. The science department was so eager to get their hands on the gear the Sumpturians had provided for them that they practically ripped them off. By the time she got out of decontamination, the suit Anka had helped her put on had vanished.

    She wasn’t anywhere near her peak performance level when she was summoned for debriefing. She was so depressed it took all she could do even to concentrate part of her mind on the questions. Seeing no alternative, she stuck to the truth and merely omitted mention of the most incriminating parts.

    Spencer, as she’d suspected, sang like a bird. The bastard! The next meeting she was called to was far more unpleasant and excruciatingly embarrassing.

    She was informed that she had been removed from the Mars project until further notice.

    She was going to get canned! She knew it and she didn’t even care… much! It was disgusting, though, that she’d had plans that were never going to come to fruition now.

    She’d thought that she would retire from service and become a colonist. Her tour would’ve been up about the time she reached Mars, and it was the perfect way to get there-free of charge. She would’ve actually been
paid
as a part of the crew. Now it seemed far more likely that she was going to get shipped back to Earth and discharged-probably dishonorably which was going to make it hellish to find a damned job!

    Not that there were a lot of jobs to be had back on Earth. The economy was shit. It had been slowly crumbling for years and the frequent disasters were no help in recovery. They would’ve at least been a boon to the construction industry if the economy hadn’t been so bad before, but since there were few people who could afford to rebuild…

    She wasn’t sure it was any consolation that they couldn’t charge her with anything that was actually criminal and send her to jail. At least she’d have a roof over her head and meals.

    She didn’t particularly envy Spencer, however, who’d already been transferred back to Earth to face a court martial for assault of an officer with intent to kill.

    Her personal worries weren’t the only thing she had to agonize about, however. For weeks after the ‘incident’ on Venus, there were rumors of war. She wasn’t informed of anything since she was out of the loop, but it was impossible to keep everyone silent and the gossip was as endless as the speculation. It never actually died down. It was replaced by newer fodder several weeks after her return, however.

    The Sumpturians were seeking a treaty with the United Nations of Earth.

    Sybil actually believed it when she first heard it, but it didn’t take her long to figure out the ‘spin’. The powers that be had decided that making war on a race that was clearly more technologically advanced wasn’t a good idea even if they were furious that the bastards had claimed Venus. They couldn’t afford it either economically or otherwise. They’d decided to offer a treaty to the Sumpturians and
they
had graciously agreed.

    Sybil was cautiously relieved. She’d hoped against hope that their government wasn’t stupid enough to start a war they couldn’t win and make things that much worse for the people of Earth, who were already suffering. She didn’t believe it would be anything but a tentative, and very uneasy, peace at best, but it was a start… she hoped.

    Four weeks after her return she was summoned to what she expected to be her final meeting. A decision had been made as to whether she would still be welcome as an officer or if she was to be shipped home and discharged. She was sick with apprehension when she presented herself… and surprised and not very pleased when she discovered she would be facing a panel.

    When she’d been invited to take a seat, she settled shakily and waited for the ax to fall.

    Commander Kendal studied her as if collecting his thoughts. “I’m guessing you’ve heard the rumors that a delegation of Sumpturian leaders will be arriving shortly to begin peace talks?”

    Sybil gaped at the man, completely thrown for a loop at the direction of the conversation. “Yes, Sir,” she stammered finally.

    “As it happens, it isn’t purely rumor. Delegates from the United Nations will also be arriving at moon base shortly. The Sumpturians specifically requested the meeting be held here as neutral ground.”

    She could tell he was just tickled pink about that! “I hadn’t heard that.”

    “Naturally, security is tight,” he said dismissively.

    The man beside him spoke up when the commander fell silent. “I’m sure you’re wondering what this meeting is about. I don’t see any point in beating around the bush. We’ll need people to liaison with the alie… uh… the Sumpturians. Given your previous… ah… contact with them we feel that you would be an ideal candidate. That is unless you have objections to dealing with them.”

    Sybil stared at the stranger, struggling to get her pulse under control. She didn’t have a clue of he was. She’d thought when she’d first come in that the panel was strictly military, but then she’d been too unnerved to really look at them. She saw now, though, that he was wearing a suit-the type of suit that had politician written all over it. She moistened her dry lips. “I don’t have any objections, Sir. I’m just not certain how I could be of any help. I didn’t learn their language, not even a little.”

    “You were given a crash course on some of their customs from what I understand, however,” the man responded dryly. “You at least have some slight understanding of the culture we’re dealing with. We’ve already enlisted the aid of Drs. Kushbu and Rains, and also Mr. Powell… formerly Major Powell.”

    Sybil felt the blood leave her face. She hadn’t heard that Powell had been discharged, but she wasn’t really surprised. Spencer had had his revenge, though god only knew why he’d targeted any of them when they were just as much captives as he was.

    She was afraid to ask if she was pending discharge herself. “As I said, I don’t have any objections. Despite the circumstances, the impression I gained from my time with them was that they were far more interested in developing their colony than warring with us.”

    “I’ve read over the debriefing.”

    Sybil felt her face heat up.

    “You’ll report for duty at Congressman Webb’s office at oh six hundred tomorrow then Lieutenant. We have a lot of preparations to make and not much time. You’re dismissed.”

    Sybil surged to her feet, saluted the commander, and marched from the meeting room. Her shoulders slumped slightly when she was clear. In something of a daze, she headed back to her quarters, struggling with the hope/fear that Anka might be a part of the Sumpturian enclave.

    By the time she’d reached her quarters she realized that was doubtful. Very likely the political leaders would be escorted by the military, but Anka was the commander of the Venus facility. She could think of no logical reason, at all, why he would lead the escort and a lot of very good reasons why he should stay as far away as possible.

    Right up until that moment she’d managed to convince herself that she was dealing very well with the unavoidable fact that she was never going to set eyes on him again. The surge of hope was worse than simply accepting, though. When she fell, she fell hard.

* * * *

    The message was clear. Sybil had a chance of redemption if she performed satisfactorily as a liaison. Unfortunately, the job wasn’t exactly what she’d expected it to be. It became clear within a few hours after presenting herself to the Congressman that, regardless of the job title, she would not be doing much actual interacting with the Sumpturians. They would be spied on from the time they arrived until they left and her job was to try to interpret every word, expression, and gesture for her government.

    Dismay didn’t adequately describe her feelings on the subject. Depression was closer and still didn’t cover it. She completely agreed with the Congressman that it was critical not to misinterpret anything-for good or ill-but it wasn’t as if she knew and understood the culture and thinking of the Sumpturians. She hadn’t even been able to figure Anka out and she’d had far more ‘interaction’ with him than any of the others. The Sumpturians arriving for the talks would be complete strangers.

    How the hell was she supposed to understand what ‘made them tick’ from the minute lesson about their courting process that she’d gotten from Anka? Maybe she would’ve had something to contribute if she hadn’t already supplied what she knew during her debriefing, but since she had…

    The others didn’t seem to mind guessing wildly. A good bit of what they did was to listen to Anka’s transmissions over and over and argue among themselves about ‘undertones’ and ‘between the lines’. When they weren’t doing that, she spent hours going over ‘background’ noises they’d picked up and amplified and trying to figure out what they were based upon her one and only, brief, experience in their communications center.

    She was pretty sure her job was enough to have made her completely miserable even if she hadn’t already been. She was so on edge by the day the Sumpturians arrived she was nearly witless. Despite every effort to convince herself that Anka wouldn’t be among them, she plowed through the spectators until she found a reasonably good observation point and struggled for a look at the military escort of the dignitaries. Unfortunately, due to the conditions, it was nearly impossible to get a very good look at any of the Sumpturians-or even to tell which of them were the dignitaries and which the soldiers. All of them were wearing suits similar to the one the science department had confiscated from her.

    Giving up in disappointment as they began to disappear into the hastily erected conference center constructed nearly a hundred yards from their base of operations, she returned to her quarters to mope and wait for the call to review the Intel collected. The call wasn’t long in coming. She was summoned a little over an hour later with the rest of the liaison team to study the images captured of the dignitaries and determine if any of them looked familiar.

    As doubtful as she was that she had ever seen any of them, she studied them.

    “They all look alike,” Kushbu muttered after about an hour of ‘flipping’ through the images on his viewer.

    Anger flickered through Sybil, but she refrained from voicing her opinion of
his
opinion.

    “They don’t!” Holly snapped. “They’re as different as we are.”

    Kushbu sent her a sour look. “Well, they all look the same to me… and I’m convinced they could’ve been at the base.”

    “I didn’t see any of them,” Sybil said coolly.

    “You’re certain?” the congressman’s aid, Phil Meachum, demanded.

    “I’m sure.”

    “I don’t see how you could be sure,” Powell said doubtfully. “Maybe it is bigotry, but they all look alike to me, too.”

    “The one you spent the night with looked like them?” Phil asked curiously.

    Powell glared at him. “The one I spent the night with was a
female
,” he growled.

    “But you wouldn’t be able to pick her out if she was among them?”

    Powell reddened. “The males all look alike… and so do the females. The main difference is the plumbing.”

    Sybil empathized with Powell’s discomfort, but his determination that they all looked alike only meant to her that he hadn’t really looked at them. “These are older men,” she said pointedly. “All of the Sumpturians at the Venus base were younger-as you’d expect given that they were militia.”

    “Rils.”

    Sybil glanced at the man blankly. “What?”

    “Not men-rils. That’s their word for adult males.”

    Discomfort wafted through Sybil. “Rils, then.”

    The aid studied the images himself. “I see what you mean. They do appear to be older. You’re sure none of them were at the Venus base?”

    “No. I said I didn’t see them. We don’t know how many Sumpturians were there that we didn’t see. We were confined most of the time to quarters. We were invited to dine with them at their festival, but Ank… Commander l’Kartay explained that it was a courting festival. The elder rils might not have had an interest in attending. Or, they might not have gone because they knew we would be there. Does it matter?”

    He stared at her pointedly. “Everything matters. Anything could be important.”

    There was some reason they were particularly interested in where the dignitaries were located, however, and it made Sybil damned uneasy. “My guess is that most of the civilians and political figures either reside on their base on Pluto or in their ships.”

    “You know for a fact that they’ve terra-formed Pluto and colonized it?” he asked sharply.

    “No. I’m guessing.”

    She had a blinding headache by the time they were dismissed. It took all she could do to drag herself back to her quarters and order a dine-in meal. Popping a couple of painkillers for her head, she went in to her private bath to take a hot shower. She was lucky to have a private bath, but it was a long way from ‘luxurious’. The toilet and lavatory were actually inside the shower. She supposed it would’ve been more accurate to say it was a small shower squeezed beside the toilet and lavatory, but the entire room was about the size of a small shower and when she turned on the shower head, the spray covered the room as if she was standing in a dishwasher. She thought it would’ve been more comfortable to wear goggles, but the hot water on her face was welcome for a change, even if she did have to sift air through her teeth to breathe without inhaling water.