Chapter One
Geth
Galactic Guild Commander, Thad Cochran, eyed his reflection in the mirrored wall of the personnel elevator as it hummed quietly upward. He smoothed his close-cropped black hair and buttoned the top button on his khaki shirt. Brushing his matching trousers with his palms, he glanced down at his black corfam shoes, situated at the bottom of his long legs. He rubbed the toes on the back of each pant leg and squinted at the shine.
His brow arched. Don’t want Thorn thinking I’m some kind of slob.
The elevator bumped to a halt, and the male voice of the Guild computer said, “We’ve arrived at the third level, Commander. Shall I signal Captain Thorn that her executive officer is on his way?”
“Sure. How do I look?”
“You seem neat and tidy.”
Thad grunted. “Good. One can never have too good an appearance. Even if I’ll be fed a few knuckle sandwiches soon.”
“I don’t believe I have an appearance,” the computer said. “This seems unfair to me in vying for Captain Thorn’s attention.”
The door opened, and Thad frowned. “Has Lieutenant Learn been messing around with your programming again?”
“I’m not certain, but I have been noticing how attractive Maggie seems lately.”
Thad snorted. “I wouldn’t call her Maggie to her face if I were you. She has this thing about being called captain, and she might just rip out your electronic brain and fire it out the trash chute. Have a nice day.”
“Hasta la vista, Comandante.”
Ambling along the gray steel passageway of the starship Independence, Thad’s shoes clanked on the metal grating beneath. The inset, blue ceiling lights cast shadows on the riveted sheet metal bulkheads, and the corridor smelled of fresh paint. She has command level painted every other month.
Pausing before a sealed electronic door, he lifted his com and thumbed it on. The thing expanded to the size of a tablet. “Mirror,” he whispered.
A flickering blue holo mirror appeared, shimmering above the com. He eyed his square-jaw in the digital glass, and his gaze drifted sullenly to the crow’s feet etched at the corner of his dark eyes. A new forest of hair sprouted from his nose. He screwed up his mouth. Those things are getting as thick as tree stumps.
Resizing the com and pocketing the gadget, he mashed a flashing square on the bulkhead. The door slid aside, revealing the ready room in a shambles. Captain Margaret Thorn wore a gray, sleeveless T-shirt and a pair of baggy sweatpants two sizes too large. A woman slight of frame, but with a will of iron, the hero of Coomrun seemed deep in thought and agitated. In the midst of a vigorous workout, sweat soaked her clothes and matted her dark hair against her slender neck and shoulders. Her skin appeared milky, glistening, and inviting. Barefoot, she shadow-boxed in a graceful, fluid dance with her gaze fixed on some imaginary foe.
In all of the galaxy, he had not seen anything to compare with the beauty of Maggie Thorn. Though she never said the words, he believed she loved him—yet he was not certain she knew it. But Maggie also loved her ship. It was a difficult competition—for Maggie, between Thad and the ship, and for Thad, between Maggie and his dream of owning a ranch on Beta Prime. Their neutral ground had become serving together and pretending the conflict did not exist.
His gaze drifted to her feet. Her toenails were painted dark green, and the second toe on her right foot bent toward her big toe at an odd angle.
“Take a holo image, Cochran—it will last longer.” She exhaled and dropped her hands. “I broke it kicking this guy in the head, and it never healed right. Doc Branch wants to reset it, but I don’t see why. My foot’s usually inside my shoe, so who’s going to see it?” She wiggled her toes. “It still works…sort of.”
“Looks kind of creepy,” Thad murmured.
Her small nose crinkled. “Never insult a woman’s feet, Commander.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
All her furniture was pushed aside to make room for her workout. Her shoes were on her desk, and her uniform hung on the back of a chair. Bits of boards, broken either by a punch or a kick, littered the deck. Maggie strode gracefully through her Luch Chi form with her arms up and her hands flowing in smooth circles before her. She sidled with crisp movements and a focused stare as if stalking an opponent. Stopping abruptly, she straightened and flipped over backward, landing easily on the balls of her feet. Soon she took a deep breath, lowered her arms to her sides, and bowed.
Her gaze followed his to the broken bits of lumber. “One can never break enough boards, Commander. Keep that in mind.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He hesitated.
“What?”
“The computer seems…off today. Might want to talk to Lieutenant Learn. I think he’s been tinkering with the programming again. It seems unusually interested in you.”
She cocked her head. “Gome’s young,” she said, mopping her brow with a towel and tossing it aside. “He gets bored when we’re in deep space. I’ve been making him send daily zip mails to his mom—to give him something to do. Maybe I’ll up it to two a day.” She trod to a metal nozzle poking from the bulkhead above a stainless steel sink and got a drink of water.
She stretched, wiped her lips, and screwed up her mouth. “Tastes like it might be coming directly from the toilet. With all the advancements we’ve made in space exploration, why can’t we have drinkable water on a starship?” She rested her hands on her hips. “Do you understand your mission?”
He nodded. “Find the Gethite, Nassi Foke, and get him back here alive. Along the way, we take a few pictures, in case we meet any undercover Confederalis.”
“Keep your eyes open down there. The Confederation may be making a move for this planet, and the Geth government is leaning toward an alliance with us. Lieutenant Lemaru should be along in a bit. In the meantime I need an opponent. The trainer bot is out of commission this week.”
Thad frowned. “I’m not dressed for it.”
“Kick off your shoes and get rid of the shirt. I’ll try not to hurt you.”
Grunting, he unbuttoned his shirt and flung it onto a nearby wheeled, metal chair.
She whistled as he rolled his shoulders.
His eyes narrowed, but deep down he enjoyed the attention she paid him.
“What’s the matter, Commander? Don’t you like being ogled?”
Stepping out of his shoes, he mumbled, “You know I’m not very good at this. I think you get pleasure in knocking the starch out of me and calling it sparring.”
Eyes gleaming, she cracked her neck. “You got that right. But the truth is you need to get better. You’re getting old, Cochran. Old and slow. That street-fighting style you use to prove your machismo isn’t going to do it when you’re sucking wind every time you throw a punch.” She swung her palms in circular motions, and then sidled into a sideways crouch. “Let’s try some light contact sparring. I need to work on my kicks.”
Thad mirrored her moves. She pirouetted and nailed him in the thigh.
He backpedaled, winced, and rubbed his leg.
“What?”
“I thought this was light contact.”
She stalked him, sliding side-to-side. He kicked back at her, but by the time his foot got there, she’d glided three feet away and grinned. “Wow, are you slow, Cochran.” She turned a cartwheel-like pass around him and rapidly popped him on the head as she rolled by.”
His blood boiled, and he went after her, dukes up, legs lunging. She flipped backward out of the cartwheel, landed on the balls of her feet, and then dropped to a fighting stance. She avoided his punches and kicks easily, grinned again, and her smile disarmed his anger.
She went up on her tiptoes and slithered past him. “Try and hit me. I need to improve my defense.”
“I thought you needed to work on your kicks.”
She shrugged.
He charged her straight on, fists doubled up, and chin down.
She ducked sideways, both hands above her
head, one lower than the other. “You’re street-fighting again. This is Luch Chi, not a prize fight or a bozo contest. Try and tone down the testosterone levels and feel the energy in all that surrounds you.” She took a deep breath.
“It’s called Balo, not bozo,” he growled. He swung a quick jab, and when she ducked to the side he threw a looping, open hand right and fanned her hair.
She danced away. “Getting upset, are we? You don’t like it when I mock those machismo brawls you fight in for money—bare knuckles, wearing nothing but your underwear. Am I getting under your skin?”
He wrinkled his nose. “We wear pants at Balo…usually.”
“No women allowed. Slapping one another on the back for all your conquests of the female gender.”
He frowned. “Women are allowed at a Balo.”
“Really. Why haven’t you ever invited me to one?”
“Because you hate them.” Bent at the waist he stalked her again. Through her glistening sweat, he caught a whiff of her rose perfume. “What did you want to talk about, besides Balo?”
She kicked him sharply in the same thigh, grinned and backed out of reach as he swung at her. “This Gethite has been selling information to the Confederation. Fleet wants to know who his contacts are on Daggon. We also need to know how deep the Confederation presence is on this planet.”
He nodded and rubbed his leg. Lunging forward, he aimed at her ankles. His foot made contact, and she stumbled. However, she managed to stay on her feet.
He smiled. “How are we getting on-world? What about the authorities?”
She stopped and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “The Guild arranged permission from the Geth government. They won’t help us, but they won’t stop us. They figure their planet might be in Confederation crosshairs, so they’re deciding which side Geth will be on.”
Thad threw a punch at her. She stepped aside, knocked down the shot and kneed him in the ribs. He held his side and grimaced as she floated out of reach. “Do you want me to use the shuttle?” He gasped.
She shook her head. “If you take the shuttle you might as well send a marching band along to announce your arrival. You’ll have to fly something else. By the way, you need to get into shape, Cochran. Seriously. You’re not a teenager anymore. I can see a few gray hairs from here. Look at you, huffing and puffing like an old man passing a kidney stone.”
“What’s the finder’s fee?” Thad straightened.
“I knew you’d get to that sooner or later. For once it would be nice to hear you say you’re doing it for the Guild. Five thousand Guild dollars is what Fleet is offering. Lieutenant Lemaru volunteered to go with you, so you’ll have to split it with him. But you have to bring the Gethite back alive if you want to get paid.” She clenched her jaw. “I don’t like risking both my pilots on the same mission.”
Thad shrugged. “We work well together. What’s the deal with this Gethite? Why is Fleet so afraid of what he knows?”
Breathing heavy, she strode to the portal and looked out into space. “He worked at Fleet headquarters on Daggon. The man was a senior com tech, with a secret clearance…so it matters.”
Stiffly, Thad moved to her side. “How long has he been on Geth?”
“Two weeks. He resigned abruptly when Fleet launched an inquiry, and then he vamoosed on a Promethean freighter. I’m giving you enough Paxithol to keep him in control, as well as some liquid mask to disguise him. The Paxithol lets him stay on his feet, but he’ll be real suggestable. You’ll also have some hand charges and a light weapon if you need it.” Her lips thinned. “The Confederation’s getting bolder. Last week they knocked out our outpost on Craikedonn with a com pulse. Communications were down for three days. I think they’re testing our defenses for soft spots.”
She pulled her hair back and tied it in a ponytail. “They’re running out of other people’s money, so they’re on the prowl again. You know how they work. They seize a world, tell the population they’ll take care of them, and then put them on a monthly dole that wouldn’t keep a dog and his fleas alive. Enslaving them to regular stipends keeps them loyal, but it takes all the fight out of them. Once the resources of that planet are bled dry, the people holler for more goodies or want to know why there’s no work. So they find another planet to pilfer and another population to enslave. It’s a pyramid system, and if they seize Guild planets, they can fund their system for another fifty years. This is why we’ve had two wars with them—they want what we have.”
“I grew up in Confederation space, remember? You’re not telling me anything new. There’s the very poor and the very rich—nothing in between. The people are lazy though, so they hire mercenaries to fight their wars for them, like the Bashtier. The Guild needs to stop signing treaties with them and whip them once and for all. We’ve beat them twice already, and then let them up off the mat each time.” Thad leaned against the bulkhead. “Tell Admiral Jonedess I want ten thousand. It’s risky business, and we’ll be out of uniform—spies, basically.”
“I already told him. He said once you tried haggling, to tell you he’d go no higher than seven thousand. He also said to be sure and stay out of the Gethite clink. We might not be able to get you back if you get arrested.”
Thad smirked. “A few trips to the brig and I’m branded for life.”
“Eight,” she said, returning to a fighting stance. “Most for gambling.”
“That many times?” His gaze lingered on her eyes and lips. She’s getting more beautiful.
She nodded. A few strands of her dark hair had drifted over one eye. She blew the locks away, flushed a bit, and then went onto the balls of her feet. “Put up your dukes, Cochran. One of these days your love affair with money is going to cost you.”
“It’s not the money,” he said. “It’s the land it will buy me. I’m going to retire and spend my days living the good life.” He lifted his fists, and she immediately kicked him in the side of the head. He stumbled backward. “Hey. I wasn’t ready.”
“That’s your problem. You’re never ready—too busy dreaming about that ranch on Beta Prime. Try living in the here-and-now for a while.” She glared at him.
He stalked her, his shoulders parallel to hers, and kept his gaze fixed on her hands and feet. “The land is in the highlands, near a lake—most of it’s in a valley between two peaks. You’d love it there. The air isn’t recycled, and the water is fresh.”
“I’m going to show you a move.”
He kept a cautious distance. “What kind of move?”
“It’s my own personal escape trick and works when you’re dealing with someone of superior strength. Watch and learn, Cochran.”
He braced himself and kept his shoulders square to hers. Leaning back on her plant foot, she came at him kicking at his chin with a snapping heel.
Thad sidestepped the attack and managed to get a hold of her waist. He clasped her shoulders and threw her onto her back. “Gotcha.” Pinning her, his heart skipped a beat.
She slipped a hand between them, reached behind his head and grabbed him by the hair. “If there’s no hair, grab the ear. Enjoying yourself? Pay attention.”
She didn’t pull that hard. He smiled, looking at her lips.
“Now I’m going to show you my move.”
“What move?” He concentrated more on the softness of her skin than on what she said.
She clenched her jaw. “This move.” She wiggled her other arm between them and pushed her forearm into his throat. At the same time she stopped pulling his hair and, instead, clutched his head from behind and jerked him against her ramming forearm. “Can’t breathe, can you?”
Choking, he blinked and little twinkling stars drifted in and out of his vision. Pushing back, he tried to get off her, but she clamped down. The spots grew larger, and his vision blurred as he struggled to breathe.
“I could kill you,” she said. “At the very least, I could knock you out by cutting off your wind. It doesn’t take much strength, just the right posi
tion of the forearm against the throat balanced against the other hand pushing the head.”
The male voice of the Guild computer spoke up. “Lieutenant Lemaru wishes to enter.”
“Let him in,” Maggie said. “You give up?”
The door slid aside, and the rotund, hairy lieutenant, with a shrub-like brow, stepped cautiously inside. Morse frowned and turned back. “Unh, sorry.”
“Freeze, Lieutenant,” Maggie barked. “I’m teaching Mister Finder’s Fee a lesson that might help him at some point when his testosterone levels have dropped.”
Maggie let Thad go.
Gagging, he rose sluggishly, holding his throat and sucking wind.
She sprang to her feet with vigor. “Get in here, Lieutenant. We’re on the clock.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Lemaru’s cheeks and ears flushed red.
She folded her arms. “Did you get it, Commander?”
Thad nodded, lifting his chin and gulping. “I got it. You nearly killed me, but I got it—forearm to the throat, other hand pushing the back of the head.”
“So you were sparring,” Morse said, seeming relieved.
“What did you think we were doing, Lieutenant?”
“Nothing, ma’am.”
She strode to the portal and pressed a flashing square next to the dense glass. The bulkhead split down the middle, and then opened to each side with a hum and a rattle. As the wall gave way, a larger window appeared surrounding the portal. The ship coasted in orbit at a thirty degree tilt. Thad’s gaze drifted to the port wing and a red and white Guild flag, with a blue Earth at its center, emblazoned beneath it.
Below hung a purple world with a thin, yellow atmosphere. There were six tiny, gray moons orbiting in a tight cluster. Maggie tapped the thick glass, dense enough to repel meteor fragments. “There are two major cities on this planet and a total population of about a hundred fifty thousand. You two are going to put down in the eastern city.” She glanced over her shoulder. “It’s lawless, and the Gethites are nasty. One hundred years ago a Confederation starship mechanic by the name of Jake Love took fourteen brides, changed his name to Hammais Geth, and came here on a pilgrimage. He thought of himself as a prophet, and he liked this crappy planet so much he named it after himself.
“Apparently, his descendants procreate like Earth rabbits. Your job is to get on-world, find our man, and get him back here. Remember, bring him back alive or no finder’s fee.” She glanced at Morse. “Fleet’s offering seven thousand. You’ll split it with the dreamer. Computer, let’s see an enlarged still of Nassi Foke.”
“Very well, Captain Thorn. Would you like a musical arrangement to accompany the presentation? I could select something from my classical collection.”
Her dark eyes narrowed. “How would you like to be downloaded into the brain of some interstellar garbage scow?”
“Here’s the photograph. I hope you enjoy it.”
In the center of the room a holo viewer lowered, and a round, flat device emitted green light. An image appeared in the hologram—a tall, stout man with shoulder length hair. He had a scar and a meandering eye.
“You’ll find him and get back quickly. The Gethites have agreed to allow us onto their world to retrieve this creep, but we can’t fly under any Guild insignia.”
“That leaves out the shuttle,” Thad said. “How then?”
“We brought along a Gethite particle rider. It’s small, but big enough for the three of you.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, Captain,” Morse said. “What did this guy do?”
“He’s been selling secrets to the Confederation. We’re going to bring him back to Daggon to face justice and to find out who his contacts were. There’s treachery afoot, Lieutenant.”
“When are we going?” Thad said.
“Now.” She strolled across the ready room and opened a panel in the wall. In a moment, she returned with a stack of clothing and a sack. She tossed a set of garments to each of them then handed Thad the sack. “Gethite attire,” she explained. “The weapons and the ante money are in the bag.”
The clothing had the texture of coarse wool. Thad peered inside the sack, spied a stack of crisp new bills and a few gadgets. He hooked the satchel over his shoulder.
“You two get down to the hangar bay, change clothes, and get moving.”
They headed for the door, and Maggie stopped them. “I know you, Cochran. You seem a little too eager to go on this mission. The money’s not that good.” Her gaze shifted to the corpulent lieutenant. “And Morse didn’t ask how much you’ll be paid. I had to tell him.”
Thad looked at Morse then shrugged. “Morse is doing this because he’s a patriot.”
“Uh huh.” She pointed at Thad and narrowed her eyes. “Get the Gethite and get back here. No farting around.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
As they left, she called after them. “You two better not be up to any chicanery.”
Thad looked at Morse but they both said nothing.