Downtime (30 page)

They
rode one of the slave-waiters that rolled over an air-cushioned trough down the
middle of the tunnel between Red Rocks and Round House. Even Singh was tired
and grateful, though Calla knew he could have kept going if he had to. She wasn’t
sure she could. The transition from ship gravity to planetary pull was very
hard for her, and she hadn’t prepared as well this time as she usually did.
Singh hadn’t exercised much either, but he would take some drugs when he got
the chance and quickly regain strength. Calla would live with the pain.

At
the end of the tunnel, Jason was waiting in battle fatigues, Marmion and the
other officers similarly attired standing behind him. They saluted formally,
and Calla returned their salutes. For just a moment she hesitated. These people
all had seen Jason kiss her when she left Mutare. Would he greet her that way,
too? But no. His gray eyes were all business, no hint of a smile on his lips.

“Welcome
back to Mutare, Commander,” he said. And as Marmion greeted her similarly, she
heard Jason add, “It’s good to see you safe.”

“Let’s
go to your conference room,” Calla said. “And bring your officers. Where’s D’Omaha?”

“On
his way, ma’am.”

Calla
led the way across the staging area, deliberately picking up her pace and
choosing a path close to the gallows. Those, she was pleased to see, were
polished with wax to show that they had been well tended in her absence.

“We’ll
be using those soon now,” she said loudly enough for the closest officers to
hear, and she saw them exchange glances. She wondered how much news they had
had of the war. Precious little, most likely, and they wouldn’t much like the
full details she was about to give them.

D’Omaha
was waiting in the conference room and Calla noticed Jason’s slight scowl when
he saw him there. She could guess that D’Omaha had ignored his request to join
Jason and the other officers in the staging area to greet her and had come here
in anticipation of Calla’s next move. It wasn’t a particularly perceptive
prediction that she would brief the Mutare staff, but it was a pointed reminder
of his abilities. It could not have gone well between him and Jason, or D’Omaha
would have been in the staging area to greet her.

The
men and women settled into chairs as soon as Calla sat down, and watched her
expectantly; uneasily, she thought.

“This
facility on Mutare for fabricating elixir is the last remaining in the galactic
Arm. Whoever controls Mutare will control all the known worlds through its
elixir. It is my intention to see to it that control is restored to the
Decemvirate and the Council of Worlds, right after I swing that traitor, Ramnen
Mahdi Swayman, from the gallows in the staging area.”

For
a moment all of them were silent. Only D’Omaha and Jason seemed unmoved. Then
Marmion spoke. “All of them, Commander? Arethusa, Seydlitz, and Fimbria? Did
Mahdi destroy them all?”

“He
didn’t destroy any of them.
Compania
’s
raiders, under my command, destroyed them to prevent Mahdi from taking control.”

“Standard
procedure,” Jason said. “Prevent the enemy from gaining access to resources
that can aid him.”

“But
how can we be so certain that Mahdi would not have turned the plants over to
the Council of Worlds?” Marmion asked.

“You
think, perhaps, that I should be hanged,” Calla said, unable to restrain a
disdainful smile. She looked at D’Omaha for support. He could explain better
than anyone that the traitor’s behavior had been predicted, and Mutare set up
to flush him out. D’Omaha was stonily silent. Jason’s eyes met hers. There was
a warning in them. She ignored it. “D’Omaha. Tell them how we know that Mahdi
is the traitor.”

D’Omaha
sat back in his chair, looking thoughtful. “We have been friends for a very
long time, Commander Calla. But I cannot lie for you. I told you two years ago
and I repeat now, the traitor is decemvir. Only one of the Decemvirate could
have authorized this establishment of an elixir fabrication facility on Mutare.
Mahdi is not decemvir.”

“As
I am not,” Calla said coldly. “But Mahdi’s known now to have an active decemvir
onboard his flagship, one Larz Frennz Marechal, who is new enough to the
Decemvirate not to have known about the dual-approval requirement for elixir
starter seed. So now we know how the traitor could simply use a decemvir, yet
not be one himself. The predictions, and even the error, were all within the
realm of probability. Despite popular belief to the contrary, Decemvirate
probability models are not always correct in minute detail. If you correct the
model to account for Marechal, you’ll find you’re back on track.” Calla sat
back for a moment and watched the others watch D’Omaha shake his head sadly. “Of
course,” she added, “if you do throw me into the probability model for this
galactic caper, I don’t fit badly either. After all, I do have you, Decemvir D’Omaha.”

D’Omaha
looked at her sharply. “But
I
don’t
fit, Commander, because I was completely aware of the dual-approval
requirement. It was I who alerted Koh and the others to the traitor’s scheme.”

“Well,
good,” Calla said. “I’m glad that’s settled. Now let’s get back to the business
of defending this facility during the siege. Mahdi’s coming, probably within
hours, and I want to go over the defenses. He won’t risk heavy bombardment of
any kind; he knows that if he does that he’ll destroy all the elixir and the
facility. But if we’re not careful, he’ll find a weak spot and storm the gates.
We can’t expect much help from
Compania
.
There’s only three raiders left plus the one on the ground. First thing I want
you to do, Jason, is to pull those cannons inside. It’s a gallant gesture, but
with Mahdi’s rather extensive armory and equipment, they’ll be spotted on the
first shot, destroyed before they get off the second. No sense in sacrificing
lives when they can stay inside and wait with the rest of us.”

Jason
shook his head. “They are inside, Commander. We have hundreds of reflecting
devices set up in the mountains. All they’ll blow up is mirrors.”

Calla
nodded approvingly. “You’ve been busy.”

“For
years,” Jason said, smiling slightly for the first time. “I believe you’ll find
our fortifications are all in order. Marmion, why don’t you put in that jelly
bean and show Commander Calla what we’ve done?”

For
the next two hours, Calla watched the holo-stage and flatscreen, absorbing the
minute details of the underground citadel’s defenses, and she felt growing
satisfaction as she saw every possible loop closed. There were even holding
tanks for acids and solvents now so that if the drains were sabotaged the
facility had alternatives.

“Any
more questions, Commander Calla?” Marmion said at last.

“Not
now,” Calla said. “Dismissed.” As the officers and D’Omaha started to rise, she
turned to Jason. “Governor. Would you please issue a dose of elixir to everyone
in Red Rocks and Round House. That includes civilians . . . Arria
and Stairnon, and any miners you have inside. Here,” she said casually pulling
a green jelly bean from her breast pocket, “is the authorization to do so from
the Decemvirate. It’s a full-life entitlement, prepayment so to speak for
saving elixir for the entire galactic Arm.”

“Then
they did know . . .” Marmion started to say. “Would you like me
to verify that it’s genuine?”

Silently
Jason slipped the jelly bean into the slot on the conference table.
Verification came up on the flatscreen, reverification on the holo-stage. He
pulled it out and put it in his own pocket, staring at D’Omaha all the while.
The Praetor’s face was flushed as he filed out the room with the others.

“I’m
going to my quarters to rest,” she said to Jason. “Contact me there if you need
me.”

But
he closed the door before she could reach it, shutting out the rest of the
world for a moment.

“Did
the Decemvirate really know you were going to put a little twist on the
proverbial fisherman and destroy all the elixir plants instead of steal them
while the water birds fought?”

Calla
shook her head and sank tiredly back in her chair. “No,” she said. “It was a
precaution I took in demanding it. They gave me such broad powers . . .
if things went badly, and they did, there would be no other way to prove that I
was acting under orders, no way even for them to change them. At least, not in
time.”

“You
could still hang,” Jason said. “Mahdi first, but with all the elixir in the
galaxy gone except for what’s here . . . Not even the
Decemvirate will be particularly understanding.”

“At
least they’ll be free to hang me if they choose to,” she said.

“You
really mean that, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You
haven’t changed much in thirty-two years, Calla. It’s the Dovian ideal, that . . .
craving for personal freedom, applied to the very people who turned Dovia into
Timekeeper’s hell.”

“I
just don’t want any more Dovias, no more dictators, tyrants, revenge.”

He
put his hand on her shoulder. “Come on, fisherman. You must be very tired of
playing god. Let’s go down the hall to my quarters and I’ll rub your neck for
you.”

Calla
looked at him quizzically. “I thought you said you wouldn’t wait?”

Jason
shrugged. “I lied to get you to stay. I knew you couldn’t and wouldn’t stay,
but I had to lie to convince you I meant it. It’s no different from when you
lied when I left Mercury Novus.”

“I
said nothing to you.”

“And
that was a lie. I couldn’t have stayed, and you knew it. But I wasn’t as strong
as you are. I would have stayed if you had asked.”

She
nodded, remembering and knowing it was true. She had always had some power over
him that manifested itself in behavior changes he would not have made on his
own. But it didn’t work that way in reverse; it never had. But now, she
realized, they both knew that the differences had nothing to do with how much
they loved each other.

Calla
put her cheek against his hand. “I love you, Jason.”

Mahdi’s eyes were focused on the navigator. “Not too
quickly, my dear Roma. Not to become overanxious now, not after waiting so
long. Give time for me get in position. You’ll have it soon enough.”

Roma
frowned and touched the holo-stage controls again. “I think they’re playing the
same game. I should have their image in focus now, but there’s nothing there. I
think they’ve deliberately interrupted the beam.”

“Equipment
failures,” Mahdi muttered. “Timekeeper knows they’ve precious little of it. You
would think they’d keep it in good order. I hope they’re not doing as poorly
with the fab.” He shook his head. The very last one. But she wouldn’t destroy
it any more than he would, of that much he was sure.

“It’s
probably deliberate,” Frennz said from the far side of the dais. “She must be
prepared for siege, and the longer she can delay its beginning, the more time
she provides for the Council of Worlds to come to her rescue.”

“Minutes,
hours, they mean nothing,” Mahdi said. “The Council will not be here for weeks,
and by then it will be too late.”

Frennz
smiled. He was a small man with large brown eyes and sallow skin that even
double doses of elixir had not rosied. “Gold Commander Calla cannot know that,”
Frennz said. “She’s increasing her odds as much as she can. Time is the only
factor that can work in her favor.”

The
decemvir bored him. Frennz insisted on repeating what Mahdi could see for
himself in the probability model. The decemvir was, he decided, an affront he
would have to do away with, just as soon as he could be replaced. Quite soon. “Roma,
are they receiving?”

“If
you choose to send, sir, they are receiving.”

“I
do so choose. Turn it on.” He watched Roma work the comm, and then she nodded
to him. “Calla, hag of Dovia, “ he said. “I know you can hear me. Don’t risk
making me more angry than I already am. Surrender now or . . . “

“By
the power vested in me by the Decemvirate, I order you to lay down your arms
and surrender.” It was Calla’s unmistakable voice.

“Don’t
play with me, you wretched excuse for a woman. You are trapped and you know it.
Give up now, and I’ll spare your miserable life.”

“This
is,” Frennz said with his infuriating smile, “of course . . .”

“Predictable,”
Mahdi said. “Yes, I know. Roma, bring in that signal.”

“There’s
nothing to . . . ah, here it is.”

And
then Mahdi saw his opponent for the first time in thirteen months of battle.
Her ridiculous mop of hair came into focus first, then the crimson facings and
cape of her full-dress uniform. He had expected her to fill the stage, just as
his own imposing image would be filling hers. But she was nothing more than a
tiny doll in the foreground of some kind of scaffold structure. “What’s that?”
Mahdi said.

Frennz
stepped up to the stage, walked around, chin in hand, giving the matter deep
thought. “It’s a gallows,” he said finally. “A rather impressive one. She’s
only been down there four hours. It took a lot longer than that to build.”

Mahdi
stared, feeling the adrenaline beginning to flow for the first time since this
war began. She had tricked him. She had planned this from the very beginning.
She had lured him to this very spot.

“I’ll
get you,” he screamed. “You think you know it all, but you don’t. I will have
your head. I will tear you apart. I will murder you. All of you will die. Don’t
look at me like that, you miserable bitch.” All the anger he felt poured out of
him. Oh, he would make her beg. She would plead for death, and still that would
not be enough to satisfy him for this affront. “You think you’re so smart. You
think you have it all figured out. Well, you don’t. Bitch!”

For the second time that day, Jason was watching Calla sleep.
He wondered how she could after Mahdi’s fearful display. The man must be mad.
Someone in his ship had cut him off, but not before everyone in the citadel had
seen his eyes bulging with hate, his skin gone nearly purple, and spittle
flying from his mouth with every word. Mahdi’s violent display had had a
subduing effect on everyone except Calla. Just as soon as she had confirmed
that the signal was gone, she had returned to Jason’s quarters and to bed. That
she slept fully clothed was no special concession to Mahdi, just normal
practice in battle.