 
### The Chronicles of Lady Starfield

### Vol I: Spacecarrier

By Veradance

Copyright 2012 Veradance

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchase for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This Book is dedicated to my friends who have always given me encouragement.

Camilla Evans

Mary Mcleod

And my children

Camilla Hartley

Jim Hartley

Special Thanks to

Michelle Muether

Who volunteered to be the

President of my fan club.

Little did she know, I would take her up on it!

Ha! Ha!

Introduction

This document has been cleared by the following agencies.

Bureau of Intergalactic Contact

The following document was translated into vernacular of the local inhabits of territory know as U.S.A in idiom of a language referred to as English on Planet Terra . Due to the literature advancement act 1339.7 worlds in isolation from the galactic community may receive information in fiction format to prepare them for eventual contact by the larger community.

Division of Technology Control

This document has been declared free of any engineering detail that could result in

development of technology not already in residence on the planet.

*****
Chapter One

"Remove the prototype, replace it with a duplicate use any means necessary," those were her orders. First Lt. Starfield paused as the door to her commanding officer's private suite slid shut behind her. After taking a deep breath she made a precision about left and began walking down the dim hallway. Behind her and to the front the corridor stretched out of sight into the darkness, the only light source a faint glow coming from the ceiling. The illumination was just enough for humans to make out patterns of gray in the carpeting under foot and in the designs on the walls. The brighter light of ship-day would reveal a riot of conflicting colors and division insignia. Carpeting designed to absorb sound silenced her footsteps, walking at a steady pace the lieutenants' thoughts focused on her orders. Remove the prototype replace it with a duplicate using any means necessary. Appropriating another division's inventory without permission was under the best of circumstances hazardous to one's health, but this was insane. The device was a project of the Interrogator Division. Interrogators specialized in retrieving information from prisoners of war using methods that were as effective as they were unpleasant. An art they didn't hesitate to practice on their fellow soldiers when enforcing discipline. On her list of beings she would least like to make enemies of the Interrogator Division came in second only behind God, and it might be safer to offend the Almighty since forgiveness was not an Interrogator attribute. In her years of service aboard the Spacecarrier Aegaeon, they fell into the category of the specialties she had made a successful effort to avoid. That wasn't really as strange as it might seem, true there was at least one division on the ship but the carrier often held more sentient beings than the colonies it was sent to protect. What could Major Blather be up to? The High Command tended to overlook divisional infighting as long as it didn't interfere with actual combat. Whatever the Colonel's plans were, one thing was certain, they did not include concern for her personal safety and wellbeing.

"LIEUTENANT!" roared the Vorn. Startled, Lt. Starfield looked up. She had nearly walked into the Vorn guard. The Vorn towered over her a mountain of muscle, eight-foot tall on huge squat legs. Backing away Starfield's gaze made it up past the neck-less plateau of shoulder muscles to the vaguely simian head. "Excuse me soldier, I was preoccupied and meant no disrespect." she said while evoking the Vorn gesture of submission before a superior fighter, mentally adding a quick prayer that this Vorn was in a good mood. The gesture involved bringing her left hand to her right shoulder then sweeping the left arm out with the hand open and the palm facing up, then repeating the gesture with her right arm touching her left shoulder. It wasn't an exact imitation since she had only two arms instead of four. The deep green muzzle wrinkled as it grimaced flashing finger length canines, snorting the Vorn rumbled with enough volume to echo down the halls despite the sound proofing "FEMALES NEVER WATCH WHERE THEY ARE GOING". What? thought Starfield, how does it know I'm female? Vorn were notorious for ignoring minor things like human sexual differences and referred to all humans as male. There were only two possibilities, either she was standing in the presence of a Vorn genius or this one knew her well enough to recognize her scent. Looking at the snorting alien, it dawned on her that she had met only one Vorn with a sense of humor. "Sergeant Trog, how pleasant to not quite run in to you ", she said. This sent the Vorn into another fit of snorting as she laughed. It was Alliance policy to never allow more than a couple companies of Vorn on the spacecarrier. The majority of combat species were housed away from the carrier in their own specialized troopships. This arrangement not only saved wear and tear on the spacecarrier itself, but it did wonders for the rate of unfortunate accidents involving combat troops and support specialties. Lt. Starfield had little sympathy for such accidents, she was sure anyone stupid enough to tick off a creature that pushed a ton in mass and considered fusion cannons a form of light artillery had to qualify as a non-sentient life form.

"Trog what have you been up to, I haven't seen you since the second quarter?" she asked. The massive soldier stretched, straining the confines of his gray alloy armor, speaking in a soft thunder he began, "Current assignment is guard duty for this section of mid-level officer suites." He added with disgust, "Ceremonial post there has not been even one attempted assassination." Starfield glanced down at the sleeves of her uniform brushing away imaginary dust from them considering, friendship or not if I break any cultural taboos by asking for a favor I could rapidly become a light snack. She asked, "Trog, if I were to ask you to keep track of one officer, where he went, who he met as discreetly as possible, would it be permissible?" The Vorn yawned offering a splendid view of those massive canines then replied, "The surveillance mission or the question?" Starfield reached over and gave his armor a resounding whack followed by a kick in the general direction of his shins. It would have taken an ancient tank to do any damage, but it made a good show. "Trog!" she yelled, "Don't play dense with me!" This sent the Vorn into another fit of snorting, Starfield covered her eyes with one hand and shook her head. It took several minutes for Trog to settle down enough to carry on a conversation. After a half-hour, she had finally gotten Sergeant Trog to agree not to be too helpful. The hard part was persuading the Vorn that "No" she did not want him to accidentally step on Major Blather (a tempting thought), and "NO" she wasn't planning to send in a hired assassin. This truly disappointed Trog, he hadn't killed anything in nearly a week. So as much as it pained the alien, he would simply observe and gather information from his troops. This could be very helpful since most officers seemed to confuse the combat guards with robots and therefore ignored them. This attitude mystified Starfield, she always kept one eye on the Vorn and the other on the nearest exit.

Her conversation with Trog had eaten up what little time she had left before her shift started. She needed to hurry although in theory since she was the senior officer, she could be late but old habits die hard. At the lift station she slipped her hand into a slot recessed into the wall. Scanners in the slot would identify her by the microchip implanted in her hand as she tapped out the code for her desired destination. The lifts were sealed capsules that shot through the miles of shafts that ran the length and breadth of the carrier. The operating system of the lift would rate her request for transportation using her rank, specialty, any medals awarded, current mission status, and destination and compare them against any other current requests to use this particular capsule. There were beings who swore that you could spend your entire career waiting for a capsule. Personally she could never remember having to wait very long for one. The capsule deposited her on the west side of the main control section at the second level, which gave her direct access to one of the three monorail systems that hung from the control section's fifty foot ceiling. The line she joined contained about a dozen different species that were trained in one the many specialties used in the control center. The atmospheric filters were working especially well for she could just make out the dim line of the opposite wall as she looked out across the horizon. Located in the heart of the Spacecarrier Aegaeon the control center was protected by miles of reinforced alloy. Control systems of every conceivable design and then some filled the huge space before her. As an environmental specialist she kept track of hazards posed by the interaction of the various systems of technology used throughout the carrier. It was an essential position that tended to go un-noticed, attention usually meant a firing squad.

As she arrived at her duty station, Second Lt. Karrack snapped stiffly to attention waiting to exchange salutes. The blue specialist uniform he wore was crisply pressed and his silver gray belt buckle and boots buffed to perfection. Each of his light blue feathers looked freshly air brushed while his deep blue beak looked suspiciously like it had been polished Amber smiled as she approached him, whenever she got the chance she would tease him that he had chosen this specialty because of how really good he looked in the uniform's colors. Karrack's arrival had been a gift from a hostile personnel director. The Avianary had always been a competent technician but his career had suffered from repeated transfers. His insistence on military code and devotion to paperwork had not made him popular. The problem with Karrack was that he felt an enthusiasm about regulations that most individuals reserved for sex or food. Her solution had been simple upon his arrival she had put him in charge of her section's paperwork. The previous year when her section had been audited, the inspectors had been in awe of him. However, she couldn't help but wince each time Karrack caught an inspector in an error and corrected him. After the exchange of salutes, Karrack gave her the turnover from the last shift. The computer system was well into the transition programs that would alter the section she would be responsible for this quarter. She had been given the section that housed the Interrogator Division, no doubt thanks to some unseen manipulation by Major Blather. Altering the sections was supposed to increase efficiency and reduce stress but in reality some specialists never pulled heavy duty, the reward of incompetence. She glanced at the area's specifications, poor fellows she thought it appears that even interrogators had their own problems. Their commanding officer, Malacor had chosen to maintain his personal suite next to their crew quarters. Amber shuddered at the thought of Major Blather as a neighbor.

After checking her monitors to make sure everything was running smoothly Lt. Starfield told her aide about Major Blather's late night summons. Lt. Karrack's first reaction was to repeat in short shrill notes, Lt. Starfield's orders for verification, "Remove the prototype, replace it with a duplicate, use any means necessary." Even filtered through a translator the Avianary language always came out as song, this produced interesting effects in conversations when more than one of them was involved. The feathered alien cocked his head to one side and began to preen his crest feathers with his left blue scaled hand as he continued with a second verse. "I don't see the problem, regulations 1236, 1734, 1910 and General Orders 12 give you legitimate grounds for refusal." her aide softly thrilled. Amber stretched her neck up and gave several rapid small no movements before speaking, a gesture that was Avianary for, "Those of the same nest don't always sing the same song." She had expected this, "Karrack, I believe if you review regulations 1456,1457, 1458 and General Orders 4, you will discover that they contain wording that would nullify the regulations you have just referred to." Karrack glared at her and his feathered crest began to rise at the suggestion that his precious regulations might in fact tend to contradict one another. It was clearly a painful act but finally the bird man sang dirge like, "There have been interpretations of the regulations that on the surface appear contradictory." Amber leaned forward to gently stoke Karrack's beak with one hand. It was as close as she could get to the beak rubbing gestures that Avianaries used between friends or kin. "Karrack, the fact is that any grounds I use to protest against a superior officer will most likely be used to bury me in. Even if I won my case, I would be blacklisted as a troublemaker with transfers into places most unpleasant in positions highly tenuous, or Major Blather just might arrange for my sudden demise under mysterious circumstances." Looking into the birdman's blue eyes Amber continued, "I am going to need your help. There isn't anyone on board who can snatch up information from banks of data files better than you." Enough preening she thought, Amber sat up and said, "Start with research on First Commander Malacor since the prototype is his project, OK?" As the Avianary moved to his station on the computer console, Lt. Starfield turned to access her own system. The Alliance had discovered the hard way that computer programs no matter how sophisticated were a poor substitute for instinct and judgment in many specialties, including her own. She spent much of her time peering into computer terminals trying to predict possible breakdowns in the environmental safeguards before making up the work schedule for her people to perform maintenance. Well, she sighed at least the Interrogators didn't appear to have any complicated or difficult systems, no fusion reactors, no weapon batteries, no special environments for some species native to a world that breathed poison or lived at absurd gravities.

It wasn't quite time to leave when Karrack finished his research on First Commander Malacor. The Avianary began to recite in low alto, "First Commander Malacor is second in command for all the Interrogator Divisions of the Alliance, he is outranked only by Lord Commander Shivar who rarely comes aboard the carrier. Malacor has been instrumental in the development of more effective means of questioning prisoners. He holds the fleet records on the length of survival at the highest level of pain for each of the enemy species to undergo questioning." Amber took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment as her stomach had started to hurt, after she opened her eyes she asked, "Wouldn't torture be a more accurate description?." Her aide nodded his dull blue beak no, while adding, "The official language states questioning; Interrogators question enemy troops and investigate Allied troops." In an effort to lighten this somewhat depressing line of conversation Lt. Starfield asked, "Well why doesn't he hold the records on investigation of Allied troops?" The birdman snapped his head from one side to the other a full 180 degrees, a gesture that meant what follows is not to be overheard. Then he replied, "Trust me if official records were kept of pain levels on allied troops, Commander Malacor would hold them." Great, thought Amber, I have to steal something from a being who rates number one on everyone's nightmare list! She wondered how much a really good assassin would cost ? No, with her luck, she'd probably approach somebody already retained by Major Blather.

After releasing her aide to complete other assignments, Lt. Starfield sat brooding in front of her computer console. Lt. Starfield hated to admit it but Major Blather was right about one thing, she would have to get close to the Interrogator Commander to pull this off. She glanced at the daily memos on her terminal, among them was one concerning a party being given in the Signal corps on the next day's swing shift. The Signal Corp which gathered information shared the same section as did the Interrogators. The high ranking officers in attendance were a matter of public record so she didn't have any trouble confirming that Malacor would attend. Now she needed a plan. She needed something subtle but effective. She stared at the view screen which showed a picture of the commander in his uniform, it was black hole black armor with an even darker cloth hooded mantle that obscured the being's true form. The only difference between members was the etching on the faceplate, in enlisted men this etching was red, in officers up to commander rank the inlay was silver but only commanders wore gold. As supreme officer of the corps aboard the carrier Commander Malacor had the addition of gold threads interwoven in black mail of his gloves. Somehow the fact that Commander Malacor had chosen an almost human skull for the etching on his faceplate did not help her seething stomach. Under normal circumstances she avoided parties, invariably after a few drinks, she would manage to insult someone who could make her life interesting. Major Blather and that personnel director were prime examples. The personnel director had no sense of humor whatsoever, all she had done was to ask him, "How he avoided ever accidentally putting someone in a position they were trained for?" Could she help it, if a few senior officers had heard her remark and thought it funny? The last time she had one too many all the computers in her section had developed a southern dialect. Fortunately she wasn't so drunk that she left any evidence, but even now every once in a while one of the voice recognition programs would start singing Dixie. There was no help for it, she would have to go, it would be her only social opportunity to get Commander Malacor's attention, she certainly didn't want his professional interest! By the time her shift was over Amber had come up with a plan.

Lt. Starfield wasn't sure how many clothier shops were on the ship in the different commercial sections but she only needed one to put through a special rush order. When she got to the shop she waited with a Caproon while Twitter finished scanning a Reptiliod. The Caproon who was coiled in a resting position most closely resembled a green and orange striped caterpillar who happened to be ten foot long and almost two feet in diameter. As she admired the creatures skin she spoke to it saying, "You have such lovely stripes, I don't think I have ever seen a more vivid pattern." The creature swung its head to a level just a foot above hers then arching its neck so that black fist size compound eyes looked into hers as it spoke. The mouth parts opened and closed in complex silent gestures forming sounds too high for human hearing for just a few seconds before its verbal translator kicked in. "A human with good eyes, how rare!" came forth in soft masculine tones. Lt. Starfield stretched her neck and slowly bowed her head in a nod of appreciation of the complement and replied, "If your silk is as fine as your manners, it is a rare thread indeed." The Caproon bobbed its head before replying, "Soft, strong my silk so the feathered one has offered to trade." Twitter who had finished with her measurements of the Reptiliod entered the conversation and began bartering for a month's output of the Caproon's silk. Twitter was a Kwet, a non-humanoid species. The Kwet vaguely resembled a terrain ostrich except instead of wings they had two feathered covered arms that ended in scaled four fingered hands with two opposable digits. Twitter's bobbing head topped out at just under seven feet, while the males of her species could go a lanky nine feet. Her brain was safe in the center of her body cavity not crammed into that tiny head, which at the moment was sporting hot pink and metallic blue glitter on its eyelids to match the jeweled bodice she was wearing over a body dress of luminescent pearl.

When the Caproon left after their bartering was finished, Twitter said, "Just give me a minute to lock up and I will fix us a nice cup of tea." Amber replied, " Actually this isn't entirely a social visit, I've come to place a special order for a dress." Fluttering her eyelids Twitter, clasped a hand to her feathered bosom and said, "Be still my beating hearts, she wants a dress!". Amber answered, "Oh, give me a break Twitter my wardrobe isn't that bad." "Humph!" clipped Twitter as her beak snapped together then she swiveled her head close and lowered her glittering eyelids as she said in a mock whisper, " Did you finally decide to earn that fee of yours?" By this time the conversation had moved to the back of the shop to a small table with the standard adjust to most reasonable life forms chairs. "No, it is nothing like that," said Amber as she sat down. Twitter's chair had formed a nest shape that allowed her to sit. Twitter by this time had found hot water and a tea set which she placed on the table as she continued chatting. "I don't understand why you went to all the trouble of the oral examine, the fees, not to mention thirty broad spectrum inoculations against who knows what, just to get a prostitutes license if your religious beliefs forbid a mating outside of marriage vows", Amber began dunking her tea bag, at least she hoped it was tea, Twitter tended to come up with weird herbal stuff. "Well just about any alien species that could possibly be interested knows that human females are capable of sexual union from puberty on to extreme old age." Twitter who now was dipping a much larger tea bag in a quart of hot water of her own drinking bowl, replied " Yes, it is just amazing how popular human colonies are on otherwise occupied planets as long as there is a high ratio of females in the population". Amber took a couple of swallows and continued, " When I would try a tell a interested male that I was physically unavailable a lot of them took it personally. You wouldn't believe the problems this caused in civilian life. I had to take drastic measures before entering the military; a license for prostitution was the perfect solution. I could just smile sweetly, quote a fee somewhere between the amount needed to purchase a small solar system or a large spacecraft. Nobody's feelings got hurt and I haven't found it necessary to use my martial arts training." Twitter finished her bowl and put it down, "You certainly have a unique approach to problem solving" she said. Amber sighed, and answered, "I have heard that before, but since I have need of a costume for business I brought it to you. I have written the specifications down for the dress and I need it by this time tomorrow." As she wiped her hands on the cloth napkins, Twitter glanced at the specifications, "Black you want it black? Trust me dear it's not your best color." Amber shrugged her shoulders and sighed, "Yes I know, it's for work, just charge me the standard fee and put the cost on Major Blather's account. I promise when I need something expensive and personal you will get the order. Oh, and here are the computer chips I want sewn into the sleeves, be sure the cuffs are tight enough that the sensors will be in full contact with my wrists. Make sure the recording technology is passive, I do not want it picked by standard sensors."

The following night Lt. Amber Starfield stood in front of her image scanner. It was time for her to leave to go to the Signal Company's party. The room's view shifted in her screen giving her a complete 360 degree view of her costume. She even had a quick look at the top of her head. Her hair unbound fell halfway to a thickening waist. A brown mane that attracted admiring glances of several species. In the rooms lighting silver strands flashed here and there in its thick brown mass. She didn't remember there being so many of them. She checked her lipstick and tried to ignore the disdain she felt for her receding chin, a flaw rarely noticed by nonhuman species. Twitter's skill had fitted the ancient design of the dress so that it made the best of her figure without bringing attention to its flaws. She liked it , maybe she would have another one made in a better color, if she could bear to part with the money. Now, if her plan worked as she hoped, First Commander Malacor would introduce himself. She knew that guessing alien psychology was a gamble but often she did better with aliens than she did with her own species. By the time she arrived at the area designated for the Signal Corp's party it was well under way. A variety of aliens in civilian costume were standing around in conversational groups filling the time with static talk. The colors of civilian dress were broken by the interrogators in black uniform scattered throughout the crowd of guests. It was an Interrogator Division policy that their members were never seen out of uniform. Some brave beings (in private) could get quite creative concerning the functions an interrogator could perform without ever crawling out of that black armor. Spotting their commander even at a distance was not a problem, as all idle conversation died at his approach. He moved in silence undisturbed by even the slight rustle of cloth as he walked, if he walked. The cloth mantle that covered him from head to foot made it hard to tell if the commander was a true humanoid. His armor seemed somehow darker than the others, almost as if it drank in the light around it, dimming colors and lengthening shadows. This darkness made the brief glimpses of the gold from his mailed gloves or flash of light from the etching hidden underneath his hood seem all the more brilliant in contrast. Not nearly as calm as she wanted to be, First Lt. Starfield turned to talk to an Avianary standing nearby. She couldn't help smoothing her floor length dress, an ancient design with long sleeves that had embroidery on the collar, cuffs and hem. She had chosen the gown's design and fabric with great care to attract First Commander Malacor's attention. The gown was the same shade of black as used in the interrogator's uniform with soft gathers to mimic the folds of the interrogator's cloak but most important was the abstract embroidery in gold thread. It was a ploy that should draw the commander to her. Lt. Starfield faced the black feathered bird man who made her think of a sparrow because of its size and moments and tried to concentrate on a conversation that she would never remember later.

Despite all her preparations , the Interrogator Commander's sudden and silent appearance, startled her. The gold etching on his ebony face mask glittered in relief against its darkness so that the lines of the skull seem to shimmer in the air like a hovering ghost above and not on the face mask. In a voice filled with dark music Commander Malacor spoke, "I do not believe that we have been introduced?" Since she was in civilian dress Amber took the liberty of bowing instead of saluting, and replied in tones carefully paced to slightly echo Malacor's own dark timbre, "My name is Amber Starfield, I am the First Lieutenant Environmental Specialist assigned this quarter period to oversee environmental systems in Section 39." Returning her bow he replied, "I am Malacor, Lord Commander in charge of the Interrogator Divisions aboard the Spacecarrier Aegaeon." Upon ending his statement Malacor inquired in a slightly warmer tone, "Will you accompany me?" while lifting his mailed left hand to receive her silk glove covered right hand. As they walked through the crowded room, whenever possible beings withdrew from their path. The Interrogator Lord made light conversation in supple tones, his movements filled with the grace of a predator. Fascinated, Amber drank in his every move. She had never encountered any being like him before, well not sentient anyway and that wasn't trying to eat her at the time.

Later that evening she found herself in a private alcove within the Interrogator section, involved in a simple one dimensional chess game, Malacor's idea of light entertainment. Lt. Starfield had planned for this , it was the one personal thing she had managed to find out about the Interrogator commander was his preference for the ancient earth game. She had rigged up a way to use computer access without his knowing by disemboweling the chips of the best computer chess game she could lay her hands on. Twitter had then sewn them inside the dress's voluminous sleeves, with pressure sensors in the cuffs that told her what piece to move and where. She was a fair player but she knew her limitations, winning was too important, it would set her apart enough to continue his interest, she hoped. They had played the game for over an hour before she quietly announced checkmate. The armored being she had beaten leaned back into his chair. He faced her in silence, a statue carved out of the darkness of space cut by threads of gold light. In fact he was silent so long that Amber began to fear that she had made a serious miscalculation. When Malacor finally spoke it was to say, "It has been a long time since anyone has mated me, I had almost forgotten how interesting the struggle could be." Lt. Starfield replied in a voice carefully free of any trace of gloating, "I spend most of my time with computers. It is hard for me to find someone to play with." It took a long moment before Amber realized that she hadn't quite said what she had rehearsed. The evening ended pleasantly as Malacor escorted her back to her personal quarters. It was downshift and the hallways were dim with few occupants, but what beings they did meet took one look and abruptly went in another direction.

Later that same evening in Commander Malacor's private suite, the First Commander of the Interrogator Divisions stood still as his aide began the process of removing his armor. The Commander spoke, "A most interesting evening, this lieutenant promises to be amusing." The aide hesitantly inquired, "Tth lady you escorted this evening?" as he slipped first one than another of Malacor's gloves free from his armor. The faceplate's gold etching caught the light an glittered causing the skull to seem to laugh as Malacor stretched his boneless hands then curled each finger tentacle back in reflex. The motion caused dozens of small talons to briefly flash from the suckers that lined his tentacles. Then the Commander replied, "It would have been rude to ignore her, after she had gone to such great lengths to attract my attention. A most ingenious ploy, I wonder what she will do next?"

***

Chapter Two

What would she do next? That was Lt. Starfield's first thought the next morning as she put on her blue tech uniform, checked the cuffs silver braid, gave the silver belt buckle, and matching boots a swift buffing. She was certain that by now Karrack should have come up some information that would explain her assignment, anything that would tie First Commander Malacor and Major Blather together. She wanted to know why Major Blather wanted the prototype bad enough to steal it from the Interrogators, and did he really think no one would notice if it was replaced with a duplicate? Blather had his faults she could gleefully list them if given half a chance but he was neither (a) suicidal nor (b) stupid, at least not in that way. She also left a politely worded message on Sergeant Trog's private terminal that she wanted to see him today at lunch if it was convenient. As she made the lift and transport connections to her duty station, her thoughts kept returning to the Interrogator Commander. Well, at least tonight I won't have to beat him at chess, maybe by then I will have some information I can use to keep his interest. After she arrived at work , she concentrated on the programs she needed to run to get a current status of the section she was now responsible for. Just before lunch Karrack had something to tell her. As he began the birdman fluffed up his crest feathers and clipped a couple of large gulps of air. It must be good, she thought, the last time he had gotten this excited a whole division had been read the riot act for disregarding an obscure set of regulations. She wondered what he had done with his bonus money ? The Avianary began his aria, "Major Blather is at the moment on the committee that oversees the grant given to Medical Section 10 of a device to communicate with beings who have suffered extreme loss of motor control. The device analyzes brain waves and translates them into language. It is due for a trial demonstration in ten days. First Commander Malacor was given a grant to develop a device that would enable the Interrogator Division to take information from clients unwilling or unable to communicate by brain wave analysis."

The birdman took a breath of air allowing Lt. Starfield to get a word in. "Did I miss something? I thought that the Alliance has had devices that analyzed brainwaves for decades." she said. Lt. Karrack was ready with a second verse, "Yes, but this device adjusts to whatever species you are questioning, those other devices could only be used on the one species they were designed for." Lt. Starfield sat back in her chair to gaze at the somewhat distant ceiling, and asked, "Hasn't it occurred to anyone that the high command is giving money to two different departments to develop the same device?" Karrack moved his chair over a little, leaned forward and began in confidential sing song, "Actually no, this sort of thing happens more than you would believe. The orders come down from different layers of command and often different departments are unaware of, or ignore the duplication." Amber asked "Who is in charge of the medical section's project?" Karrack replied, "An Avainary captain by the name of Frizz." Uh, oh, thought Amber, "Karrack this Avianary major wouldn't happen to be clan or kin or something would he?" she asked. Karrack threw his head back and closed his beak with a snap, the Avianary's ancestors had not been seed eaters, that beak was still a nasty weapon. "The officer in question belongs to the Seeker nest of the White clan and is a sworn enemy!" sang the birdman vehemently. Thank you, thank you, thought Amber, in a quick prayer of thanks, things would have gotten difficult if this captain had been kith or kin of Karrack's. As she stood up from her chair, Amber straightened her wrinkle-less uniform and said, "Tell you what Karrack, get me the following information and we just might put this Captain Frizz into an unseasonable molt. How much was He allotted for by this grant? How did his medical personal manage the work load? What have been the results of previous demonstrations of this project?" With her mind speculating about the implications of Karrack's information First Lt. Starfield went to lunch.

Sergeant Trog was already eating by the time Lt. Starfield had made it to the cafeteria on B level. She waited in line to receive the meal that had been prepared for her according to her service code which included such information as species nutrition requirements and individual likes and dislikes. Just before it was her turn at the service window, a bright orange caterpillar about three feet long and five inches thick came out of it and dropped to the floor. Amber watched as it crawled past her feet, either it's a species I'm not familiar with she thought, or someone's lunch is getting away. After receiving her tray, she was relieved to see that Trog had finished his meal. While it was true the animal protein was simulated, it was made to look as real as possible and Vorn did not eat cooked meat. As Amber settled down to a nice mundane meal of pretend fried chicken, artificial mashed potatoes, imitation corn and real gelatin, Sergeant Trog began his report. As the Vorn sergeant spoke he carefully inspected each of his four hands for any sign of food particles that might have remained under his short one inch nails, " I have seen Major Blather meet with Captain Frizz in the time I have guarded that section, but only recently have they become secretive about their meetings." Amber swallowed and asked, "Did they notice you?" The Vorn who even in a sitting position looked down at her from a span of more than two feet snorted, "Noticed? What officer pays attention to a combat soldier on patrol?" Amber nodded she had counted on this. Trog leaned forward slightly, giving Lt. Starfield just a twinge of claustrophobia, as a wall clad in combat armor and green fur closed in. Trog had somehow managed to shift his position so that she could look directly into his fist size fluorescent green eyes, that is after she got past a green simian muzzle graced with razor sharp canines. "What are you up to this time?" he said in the soft roar that passed for a Vorn whisper. Amber smiled at the creature and said, "Back off Trog you are scaring my food, it has suffered enough." As the alien resumed his former position Amber added, "It might not be a good idea for you to get too involved, I am trying to deal with an incompetent superior officer." Trog snorted several times then spoke in a rumble, "Incompetent officers make excellent eating, but you are so tender hearted that you need someone to kill your gelatin before you can eat it !" Lt. Starfield had managed to finish off the offending food as the Vorn spoke. She cleared her throat and said, "Are you still holding a grudge just because I asked you not to eat the refrigeration technician?" "HE NEEDED EATING!" said the Vorn with just enough volume to cause the plates to vibrate on the table. "Look," said Lt. Amber, "I don't dispute that, but you wanted to eat him before he had finished fixing the refrigeration system and I didn't have another refrigeration tech in reserve. Besides, the fellow is a model worker now, except when he is a little groggy from nightmares about being eaten by an enraged Vorn." This set the Vorn to snorting, "He still has bad dreams? Ha!" Trog then grimaced showing both sets of canines while narrowing his green eyes to slits, "I could help" said the Vorn with a volcanic hiss. Amber sighed, the image of Major Blather as a Vorn munchie was tempting. "Trog I may need you, but right now keep a low profile. I promise that you will get to kill something eventually. Right now I just want to give Major Blather enough rope to hang himself with." "Why would he do that?" rumbled the Vorn. Amber replied, "It is just an expression, it means that a person will cause his own downfall or something like that." as she wiped her hands clean. " Ahh !, You mean, he will choke on his meal!" thundered the alien soldier. The rest of the lunch period was taken up with a discussion of comparative wise sayings. The Vorn version of a stitch in time saves nine, came out as," destroy all the enemy in the first battle further conflict is unnecessary."

When she got back to her work station she spent the rest of the shift concentrating on her job. The environmental levels were perfect, which wasn't a surprise. The interrogators weren't likely to get anyone who was less than competent. In fact, considering the ramifications it was probably a compliment that she had been assigned to their area. That was the problem with the military she thought, whenever you did things right you were put in positions more hazardous than the last and if you were incompetent, you were shot or worse. What she could not figure out was how some beings managed to slip in between the cracks, to be just competent enough to continue breathing but not competent enough to be trusted with anything dangerous.

Early in swing shift found her busy dressing for her date with Commander Malacor, as Karrack showed up at her private quarters. The Avianary wouldn't settle for a verbal summation but had brought her a hard copy report. The report was a stack of paper an inch thick. Amber eyed this bundle with dismay, "Is it too much to hope that this report contains a summary page?" she asked. Karrack clacked his beak in annoyance; his reports always contained a summary page or had since Lt. Starfield had insisted it was standard procedure. Amber reviewed the page quickly and set the report aside, it only confirmed what she had already guessed. Damaging as the report was it wasn't the same as thing as evidence, she didn't have any proof. "Thanks Karrack, this is just what I needed to see, but please leave so I can finish getting ready, we will talk in the morning." she said as she opened the door for Karrack to leave. The bird man was moderately ruffled at his rushed exit. It couldn't be helped she thought, I have got to be ready before Malacor arrives and I don't even want to think about explaining Karrack's presence in my quarters after hours.

That evening she arrived at another party escorted by Commander Malacor. It was a function being held by the top brass, attendance was mandatory if you had been unfortunate enough to be invited. The guests, all high ranking officers were for the most part counting the moments until they could legitimately leave. Commander Malacor's visit was cursory , nobody appeared interested in making him stay. Lt. Starfield had to admit that she was enjoying the whole thing immensely, especially after the incident. She had been coming back from a call of nature when she was waylaid by a slightly drunk two star human general. The man blocked her path and attempted to persuade her to leave the party with him. The officer was very impressed with his self and thought she should share his opinion. Starfield politely tried to explain that she already had an escort and was not interested. This only made the man even more insistent. She was beginning to get angry, when Commander Malacor arrived with a glass of shimmer water for her. As the armored shade handed her the glass, he said in quite tones "Is this creature bothering you, my dear?" The creature in question was apparently undergoing a massive coronary at that moment. Lt. Starfield smiled sweetly and replied, "Why no Ambrose, He was concerned that I might not have an escort." Then she continued, "General Gar, allow me to introduce you to my escort, First Commander Malacor, head of the Interrogators aboard the Spacecarrier Aegaeon." To his credit General Gar did not soil himself, but he did look rather ill. He managed to mumble a shaky reply as Commander Malacor dismissed him with a wave of his hand. General Gar left the area rapidly suddenly sober. Lt. Starfield managed to resist laughing until the man was gone. Then with one hand over her mouth, she shook with laughter until her eyes filled with tears. As she wiped her eyes, Malacor asked her in dusky tones, "Did you find that amusing?" Still gasping for air Amber replied, "Most fun I've had all year." Then the gilded mask spoke, "Most humans wouldn't admit that or they would lie when asked." Amber looked at the mask, smiled and said, "I have a tendency to tell the truth when asked, it has gotten me into trouble more than once." Malacor inclined his head slightly toward her and spoke softly, "A most hazardous failing." The chess games later that night proved to be much shorter as Lt. Starfield lost several times in a row. She didn't mind as she listened to the Interrogator Commander talk. Malacor's voice had a dark elegance that left chills as she listened. She couldn't help wonder whether it was a natural talent or a learned skill. He spoke about what it meant to be an interrogator in the tones a priest describes his God. The Interrogator Division was something special even among a military system as vast and as contorted as the Alliance. A being was carefully screened before it was trained to become an Interrogator. The enlistment was for life, the Interrogator Division came before loyalty to your race or even to the Alliance to betray that loyalty was to die a death so horrible that it was reserved only for an interrogator branded a traitor. There were no transfers out of the Interrogator Division. The date ended in the wee hours of downshift with Malacor escorting her back to her private quarters. She found it difficult to sleep as she tried to absorb all the information that she had heard. Lt. Starfield couldn't imagine being so devoted to anything, such devotion was foreign to her nature. The only thing that even came close was the way she felt about God and sometimes children.

It was two day cycles before she saw Malacor again. This time after a brief cursory appearance at the official launching of a trio of battle cruisers, the Interrogator Lord offered to show her his office, which was deep in the center of the Interrogator Division headquarters. As the door opened Malacor crossed the threshold, turned and held out a mailed hand to Amber. The gesture was necessary for the Lieutenant had frozen at the doorway. As she walked across the floor Amber glanced at the blood veined black marble on the floor, walls and ceiling, she presumed. She couldn't actually see the ceiling since it was hidden in the distant shadows. It was barren of furnishings except for the alter and throne at the back. Now she knew that was supposed to be a desk and chair but she suspected her first impression came closer to the truth. Amber followed as Malacor seated himself upon the throne. She wondered how she was supposed to react to this ? Malacor gestured with a fluid motion of his mailed hand for her to come closer. " What do you think of my office" he said. Amber who had moved to stand next to him replied, "Well, if you were aiming for ominous, impending doom I think you have it lasered, the only thing missing is a guillotine." Malacor leaned back in his throne and said, "There's one in the next room." Amber let out a short nervous laugh, she didn't know if he was kidding or not! The Interrogator Commander made a motion on his desk, and even standing next to him Amber couldn't tell what he touched or did, suddenly the walls, floor, ceiling all disappeared. They were in a void filled with pale light and nothing except Malacor's throne. Amber grabbed Malacor's armored arm the instant the void swallowed up her surroundings. "What would this work best on a splurge?" she blurted out. Then she began willing herself to let go of the death grip on the interrogator's armor, although she did leave one hand touching it. Malacor, who had watched her reaction intensely began, "No, a splurge is a chemical burrower of rock strata and would not comprehend a void or it would go catatonic. This would be best suited to a race that dwelt in the tops of trees or among mountain cliffs. Such a race would have an instinctive fear of open space, combined with falling to their death. The Commander shifted slightly in his seat and placed his other mailed hand lightly over her own. "Now", he said, "Try to guess what a Splurge would find terrifying." Amber moved just a little closer to the alien, she glanced at the eyes of his helmet only to see her own dark reflection. " Let me think", she said, " Cave ins wouldn't do it they would just eat their way out, there is no free water on their home world and they don't actually breathe so drowning would be meaningless. "How about a splurge finding itself in the middle of an eruption?" Commander Malacor made a motion on his desk and the walls became moving molten lava and the floor a seething pool of liquid stone with a small spot of melting rock directly in front of the throne. Amber took a long look and asked, "Can splurges have heart attacks?" Malacor replied, "I haven't lost one yet." then he added "Your guess was correct and your reasoning excellent, you were thinking like an interrogator." Now Amber knew that was about as high praise as she was ever going to get out of the Interrogator Commander but she didn't relish being told she thought like an Interrogator especially by an expert on the subject. She smiled and said, "Thank you, " while thinking if I survive this, Oh Lord, I promise to do serious penance and rethink my career choices completely!" Then the Commander spoke, "Most humans would find these environments terrifying, yet you appear to be unaffected." Amber looked at the interrogator and said, " Ambrose in case you haven't noticed I've been clutching your arm in a death grip for the last half hour." As he gently clasped the hand in question the hooded shade continued, "A minor reaction, why don't you find these environments frightening." Amber who dearly wished she had some idea at what was actually going on in this creature's mind but the armor gave no clues. She decided to go with the truth or as close to it as she could get. It was always the one thing that no one expected. The mask replied, "Explain?" Amber took a breathe and began, "At heart, I am a rather timid soul. Actually everything terrifies me, lifts, aliens, open spaces, enclosed spaces, just getting out of bed and to work usually completely deletes my daily allotment of fear, I just don't have any more to work with." Malacor made a strange sound, one that Amber hadn't heard before. It was hard to describe, the closest comparison was the sucking sound that was made when you were walking in shin deep mud and had to pull your boots free to move. She wondered if maybe his suit was malfunctioning as the sound continued for over a minute. Concerned, she asked "Ambrose are you all right?" Malacor held up a hand to reassure her, "I did not mean to alarm you, but I found your remark humorous. I was laughing , I cannot recall the last time I have done so."

The next three days were strictly routine and Amber needed the rest. She had to come up with a plan that would allow her to continue breathing. Making an enemy out of the Lord Commander of the Interrogator Division could be filed under very very bad idea, but Major Blather retained some of the best assassins on the ship. The third night she was startled out of a sound sleep by the clanging of her door's intercom. Half asleep she stumbled out of her bed to the door, pressing the send button Amber stated, "Identification and orders, please." While she calculated the safest spot in the room in case of hostilities and tried to remember when was the last time she took her laser pistol in for a full recharge. A reply issued forth tonelessly from the door's speaker, "Courier, 13-09 sent with communication from Major Blather." Lt. Starfield stepped away from the door just far enough to reach her personal computer. A brief encoded inquiry into the ship's communication system confirmed that a courier robot had been sent to her quarters and was currently located outside her door. Lt. Starfield did not think she was on anyone's current assassination list but she suspected that a lot of dead people had held similar beliefs. Her precautions did not rule out that this was a ruse but she was fairly positive that none of her current enemies were sufficiently sophisticated enough to think of any of the possibilities that were compiling in her brain. Opening the door revealed a small cylinder shaped droid on standard treads. "Lt. Starfield, Environmental Specialist present, what is your message?" she said. The droid compared her voice with the voice print in its memory before it replied, "Lt. Starfield report at once to Major Blather's private suite." Its message delivered the little droid did an about face and trudged slowly down the hall having already erased the message from its memory. Lt. Starfield closed her door, then she looked toward the ceiling and rolled her eyes. It must be true she thought , part of general officer training must include a course in being a complete and total slime guttural. Although in Blather's case it probably came natural. That man knew full well that her communicator had a special scrambler for privacy! It took only a few minutes for Amber to slip into a freshly pressed uniform and rush to Major Blather's suite.

She stood at attention in front of Blather's desk in his personal office. For a human male the major was a perfect physical specimen, over six feet tall with classic chiseled features in blond shades on a weight lifter's body. Sitting at the perfect angle behind his desk (actual real wood) he inquired sharply, "When will you complete the assignment?" Lt. Starfield gave him the date without a hint of the smile she felt. Major Blather's reaction was electric as he stood up and shouted, "Impossible, It must be sooner!" In a firm level monotone Lt. Starfield replied, "Sir , surely you must realize that if the device is taken before the Interrogators have completed their testing and refinements you might wind up with an incomplete prototype, which wouldn't look good at the demonstration." At this Blather sat down, "How could you know about the demonstration, I haven't given you that information." Continuing Lt. Starfield said, "No sir, but you have given me the assignment, surely you expect me to gather whatever information that I might need to carry it out." The colonel lowered his eyelids over cold blue eyes for just a moment as he pressed his lips together in thought, then he spoke, "Very well that date will do but I will personally inspect the prototype after you have brought it to Medical Section 10. If you fail me it will be your last failure ever, you are dismissed." Amber stood still, "Sir, May I speak?", she asked. The general's cold blue eyes widen to a glare, than he spoke sharply, "No, you have your orders proceed at once." Amber did an about face with parade ground precision and started for the door. Something was not right, why replace the prototype with a working duplicate they would create from the original? Wouldn't it make better sense to return the original after scanning the circuits and use the copy for the demonstration? She had a bad feeling about this. Major Blather spoke stopping her at his office door's threshold , "Lieutenant!" She turned and said, "Yes, sir?" "Tell me Lieutenant," the major said with a smirk, "How is he?" "I am not sure I understand the question, sir?" Amber said honestly. The general stood up and walked from behind his desk and as he approached her, he said in not quite a whisper, "That black hearted bastard, what is he like in bed?" Amber looked the leering colonel in the eye and said, "Absolutely incredible, sir." then smiling her biggest smile she left Major Blather with his mouth hanging open. It was worth the trip.

***

Chapter Three

Several days and one date later, Lt. Starfield found herself in a meeting for low level officers and senior technicians in the Signal Corp's briefing room. Commander Malacor had ended the meeting with a briefing on the placement of military satellites in the surrounding sectors of space. Lt. Starfield had stood discretely at the back of the room until the others had left then she approached the Interrogator Commander. Malacor was standing near the three dimensional interstellar star map, the light from the map disappeared wherever it touched the darkness that was his armor. As he turned to face her the gold etched skull glittered underneath the shadow of his hood. Softly she said, "Commander Malacor, would you please review the placement of the satellites again?" The dark being replied in tones that had become familiar to her, "What section do you wish me to repeat?" Lt. Starfield with hers hands clasped behind her back took two steps that brought her just inside the proper distance from the ebony interrogator. Then she unclasped her hands and drew a step even closer saying, "It doesn't matter which part you repeat." Now she was so close that his cloth mantle almost but didn't quite brush against the blue of her uniform. She finished saying "I just wanted to listen to your voice". Her movements brought her to stand in front of and just slightly to one side of the object of her attentions. Standing so close that the layers of black cloth could have easily have engulfed her, she looked up into Malacor's hood and said in tones that made the word a caress, "Ambrose". Then she raised her left hand to just brush his breastplate lightly with the tip of her fingers. The Interrogator Commander shifted his weight slightly, then cupped the errant hand gently in a mailed glove. He brought the hand briefly to his mouth plate with the lightest touch. In the tones that were almost a purr, Malacor spoke, "How unfortunate that I am on duty and cannot properly express my appreciation." Then the dark being released her hand and as she watched ever fascinated, he walked slowly from the room.

That night Amber had trouble getting to sleep. What had ever processed her at the meeting? She couldn't decide which was worse, that she might have been laying it on a bit too thick or the fact that she wasn't laying it on at all. It had been an assignment like so many others she had completed. It had been all pretend, an easy game to play, that was the problem it had been too easy. Now she wasn't certain what was pretend and what was real, and what was worse she wasn't sure if she really wanted to know. At the same time Lt. Amber Starfield was struggling to get to sleep, in the heart of the Interrogator level its Lord sat merged in darkness with only the light from his private terminal. The armored shade inclined his head forward slightly as he viewed the data on the screen. It was an extensive inquiry pulled from files both on board the carrier and from various planets. No file, however private could be sealed from his inquiry, no source of information however tenuous was overlooked. It was voluminous reading of page after page of mostly repetitious facts. Yet the armored being never stirred as he sat , one gilded glove touching his chin plate while the other moved constantly over the keyboard. Although his head was encased in the immobile death mask, he still somehow gave the impression of intense interest. Eventually after the last bit of data was emptied from the last file, the Interrogator Lord sat back on his throne. He sat with his tendrils touching just at the tips, gazing off into the darkness as the name of his research subject flashed on screen, "First Lieutenant Amber Starfield, Environmental Specialist." It was rare that he now found it necessary to do research personally. He had made himself familiar with Lt. Starfield's service record shortly after their first encounter but this was different. He was convinced that reality and the lieutenant personnel records were in different orbits entirely. Most disturbing of all was that such discrepancies would never have been noticed if the lieutenant not attracted his personal attention.

The following day Lt. Starfield's lunch companion was a rather flirtatious crocodile. Lanor was a reptiliod, which made her a being human shaped but covered with scales instead of skin. The scales formed a hard ridge down the back of her skull through the length of her back but were soft and flexible across her face and underbelly. The cocoa brown reptiliods weren't true reptiles at all, cell structure and internal organs so mimicked that of earth humans that some scientists argued that the two races were somehow related. Clicking her teeth together in good humor the reptiliod began, " Oh my, it is always the quite ones, I am quite envious my dear, how did you ever manage it?" Amber retorted, "Don't believe everything you hear, all it amounts to it that he has escorted me to my quarters and we have played chess a couple of times." Lanor a thoroughly civilized being , grinned displaying a set of teeth that would have been the envy of any real crocodile. "Is that so Amber? You are so blind! I have checked my sources, and no one has ever heard of the First Commander Malacor escorting anyone anywhere except to the torture chambers. I assure you that neither has it been known for him to do anything social with beings of any sex!" Shaking her head no, Amber leaned forward in her chair and said in a confidential tone, "If worse comes to worse, I will just have to discourage him." This statement sent Lanor into a fit of laughter , gasping for air she displayed serrated teeth all the way into the back of her throat. Taking several moments to stop chuckling, Lanor finally spoke, "Amber don't you know? The First Commander Malacor is a very wealthy being who just might pay that impossible fee of yours. He might even buy your license." Stunned Amber looked at her, somehow in all her calculations she had failed to account for Malacor's wealth. If her license was bought, it was an automatic marriage to the being who paid the fee at least that was the nice way to put it, some less optimistic souls referred to it as slavery. Amber felt ill, despite her attraction to Malacor she had spent a lifetime trying to protect her freedom, the prospect of losing it summarily made her queasy. It wasn't that she didn't have a romantic streak but there was a hard and fast difference between something given up and something being taken. She spent the rest of the day in a semi-state of panic, if she had been so careless in her calculations about something as serious as Malacor's wealth, what else could she have forgotten? By the next day Lt. Starfield had come to some conclusions, among the foremost was that she had better find out exactly what kind of alien she was dealing with, there were still just too many unknowns. She just didn't have enough information to decide what the possibilities. If someone ever did pay her fee she would be instantly wealthy but wealth wasn't much fun for dead people. Not fulfilling the fee if required to do so could be a fatal offense in so powerful an officer. Lt. Starfield did reach one separate conclusion , she was going to get Major Blather for this if she had to dismantle the carrier to do it.

During the day, she discretely called in a few favors to get the information that she wanted. It wasn't that what she was after was classified or anything but no one wanted to be caught going through the Interrogator Commander's personnel data. The information was sent on disk through the daily courier to avoid attracting attention. After her shift was over Lt. Starfield carried the packages to her quarters. Inside were several data chips giving the physical and psychological data on Commander Malacor's species. She dropped the chips into the input slots of her personal reader and lay on her bed reviewing the data. As she began reviewing the data the expression on her face changed several times ranging through interest to dismay. When she had finished a slightly pale Amber tried to put the information into proper perspective. First Commander Malacor was of a species that came from a world that consisted of one vast primordial swamp broken only by shallow seas. The Malestron as they were called were humanoid in body shape on most occasions. The species was basically boneless with flexible cartilage strands forming the skull and spine. The body's internal structure was supported by a system of flexible tubing kept ridged by fluid pressure. The Malestron's humanoid form consisted of tentacles modified for arms, legs and fingers. The nature of the Malestron's support system allowed the creature to flatten out like a jelly fish or several other convenient shapes if it needed to in rapid short order. The skin that sheathed this form was covered with a layer of mucous that was a complex liquid protein that had impressive protective qualities. When a Malestron was deprived of his necessary water requirements the mucous could be harden into a ridged protective shell and the Malestron enter into a self-imposed coma ; the alien so encased was tough enough to last in open space for an undetermined period of time. On top of that the alien had the capacity to regenerate almost all of its body organs so long as the brain case and neck spine was intact and the nutrients were available. She was glad that the Malestron were on the side of the Alliance. It was a wonder that they hadn't taken over the galaxy or something, well maybe they had and she hadn't noticed. The ends of certain tentacles were sexually sensitive areas as well as a few areas deep in the layers of moving organs. The physical details of the sexual structure of the Malestron were within ranges that made copulation between a few of the other species possible, including between male malestron and female humans, which was about galactic norm. Of the thirty-five known species that fit the Alliance's rather generous humanoid definition twenty-eight could moreor less become physically intimate with a female human. Most compatible species had females that were capable of physical intimacy only during short periods of fertility or a small portion of their life span. This had made Terrain settlements very popular among alien civilizations. Now, not all humanoids considered Terrain females to be sexually attractive, it was possible that the Malestron fell into this category. This idea proved to be a false hope. Statistics showed that the Malestron had certain behavioral characteristics in common with the Reptiliods, Saurians, a few other species and terrain males. They would cheerfully seduce anything that was compatible and available. This must have required considerable persuasion on the part of the Malestron male since their breeding took place only in a shallow pool of liquid similar to their body mucous. Amber already knew that Malacor's suite's specifications included such a pool. One last possibility, the Malestron race consisted of four sex variations, fertile female, neuter female, neuter male and fertile male, perhaps First Commander Malacor was something other than fertile male? It was a vain hope she knew, even before consulting the records revealed that Malacor was indeed an fertile male.

Almost all Alliance species had fertile males at the top of the power structure, they tended to share the same qualities of ambition, aggression and aggregation, although such an arrangement was not universal in scope. She had read experts who had argued quite convincingly that the real center of conflict between the Alliance and the Unification was that the Alliance was run by aggressive fertile males and the Unification by ambitious breeding queens. It wasn't something she spent time pondering, after nearly a thousand years of war, she doubted it either side could survive without the continued conflict. What she had to think about was her emotional reaction to the Malestron. She tried to rationalize the revulsion out of existence, but the Malestron reminded Amber more than anything of a cross between a squid and a large intelligent slug! She had never liked slugs, high humidity or for that matter slimy vegetables. She did kind of like reptiles and had learned to tolerate fur, feathers, fangs and various insect features but slugs? No! she drew the line at slugs, no slugs! The research on Malacor's species was the last bit of data that Amber gathered. She was ready to steal the prototype. The Interrogator Commander had given her enough information to enable her to gain access to the device. It wasn't that Malacor had actually discussed anything concerning the classified device but that wasn't what she needed. What she needed was enough knowledge about the Interrogator Division's procedures to formulate a plan. The prototype was being kept in the research center of the Interrogator's headquarters. This area was sealed off to all but interrogators of high rank, her problem was to gain access to this area in such a manner that she could gather enough information to neutralize the security devices protecting the installation.

The following morning she put her plan into action. After considering the possibilities, Lt. Starfield had decided a malfunction in the air cycling units would be the easiest to arrange. The ship's main atmosphere consisted of a mixture of oxygen, nitrogen and various trace gases necessary to the majority of alien life on the carrier. The program Karrack had written for her would run without leaving any trace of tampering. Adjusting key circuits of the outgoing filters the program would not permit one particular trace gas to leave the area. The trace gas would slowly build up eventually causing the occupants to suffer varying degrees of nausea, blurring of vision and lung irritation, depending on the species involved. The real beauty of this particular hazard was that the problem would disappear during periods of high traffic that let the area's atmosphere mix with the correct mixture in the outer hallways. As she expected it was a complete day cycle before the Interrogator Headquarters notified her department of possible environmental contamination. When the Interrogator's call requested an atmospheric analyzer she timed the delivery to just after the morning shift change when the area's atmosphere would be at normal levels. Once the interrogator's were sure it wasn't the atmosphere, they asked for and received equipment to check for magnetic flux, electron flow, acoustic leaks, radioactive seepage and biological contamination. It took them a full day to complete all their tests without identifying the problem. The next day cycle her office was paid a visit by an interrogator. Lt. Karrack listened with intense disinterest as the black clad soldier complained about the problem, then the Avianary replied, " Sir, are you aware that regulations 2049-2054 absolve my department of any responsibility when untrained personnel use our equipment?" It was obvious that this was the first time anyone had ever quoted regulations at the Interrogator, he made it evident that he did not like the experience. Less than an half hour after he left, the Environmental Specialist Unit was blessed with a visit from an Avianary officer. He was a resplendent creature in black armor with a silver bird of prey etched across the boundaries of his Avianary face mask. He was somewhat less than pleased by Karrack's attitude and demanded to see the officer in charge. Amber had been keeping a low profile waiting for just this moment. Flashing her best look of innocence and her Lieutenant First class bars she made her entrance. "May I help you, sir?" she inquired as sweetly as legitimately possible under the circumstances. The officer turned in a swirl of black to face her and froze. There was no doubt that he recognized her as "the female" seen with Commander Malacor. There was a long second of time before the black figure replied, then he spoke in voice that had undergone an apparent attitude adjustment to ask in the most polite terms if she had any suggestions that might resolve this mysterious malfunction. "Perhaps, Major Sercaa, I could bring in some equipment and run the tests myself?" asked Lt. Starfield. The Major replied firmly, "Specialist this area is closed off to all but interrogator personal with a level eight clearance." Lt. Starfield was well aware of those restrictions, "Sir, I understand that but I have a working clearance of six and a reserve clearance of eight, it is clear that you need an expert on site. Perhaps something could be arranged, if you spoke to your superior officer?" The major was out of options , he gave her a polite salute and said, "I will relay your suggestions to my superior." After Major Sercaa's dignified retreat Lt. Starfield had less than an hour to wait before she was given clearance to enter the Interrogator Control Center. After giving his officers permission to allow Lt. Starfield entry into the control center, Commander Malacor stood pondering, "What did she do and how did she do it? My best technicians have not been able to locate the cause of this problem. I have gone carefully over all of the readings without finding any abnormalities. This female has proven to be full of surprises but I am not without a few of my own."

Lt. Starfield waited patiently at the entrance to the Interrogator control room as the guards relayed her request to enter. Directly behind her was a maintenance droid loaded with her own personal equipment. Her throat felt suddenly dry when Commander Malacor stepped out to meet her, she had not expected the Interrogator commander to escort her inside. Saluting Lt. Starfield said, "Sir, I have brought my personal equipment which has been re-calibrated recently, would you please arrange to have it inspected so that I may bring it into the control center?" Malacor acknowledged her request with a slight nod of his face mask. As the armored shade escorted her inside he inquired in silken tones, "Do you have any theories as to what may be causing our problem?" In answer to the commander's inquiry, Lt. Starfield began a carefully rehearsed disclosure of the numerous possibilities for disaster. The disclosure was accurate, detailed and about as interesting and informative as a blank screen. She was just beginning to wind down as her equipment finally arrived, Amber stifled a sigh of relief. The equipment was standard issue but its programming was a custom special from Karrack. As she took various scanners and began to run her tests, the Interrogator Commander remained in the room watching her. The scanners fed the droid information on light waves, radiation, sonic vibration and thermal readings. Once she had the data her personal computer would be able to reconstruct a very accurate and detailed three dimensional blueprint of the area including any security devices. She was very careful to take a reasonable amount of time running tests and pouring over the results, before she finally took an instrument to the outgoing atmospheric filters. She then turned and said to the Interrogator Lord, "Commander Malacor , sir I believe that I have detected the problem, there appears to be a malfunction in one of the outgoing series of atmospheric filters. It is permitting a build up of several highly volatile trace gases." Malacor took the scanner from her hand and reviewed her readings carefully then said, "Specialist can you explain why this was not detected earlier?" Lt. Starfield swallowed hard, this was a tone of voice she hadn't heard before. "Sir," she began, "the gases would vary in strength according to the traffic flow in the area which exposed the atmosphere to normal mixtures. At some periods of the day the mixture could be normal and would not show up on standard analysis, the only reason I caught it is that as a professional I know to check the mixtures entering or leaving the filters themselves something your men may not have been trained for." Malacor returned the scanner to her saying, "How long will it take you to resolve this problem, Lieutenant?" Careful to remain facing her superior officer Lt. Starfield set the scanner down with her other equipment an replied, "It won't take long to fix, sir. I will have a crew remove all the outgoing filters of this section as soon as possible, filtration will continue at the next junction. The installation of new filters will be begin at the start of up-shift tomorrow." she said. The dark shadow that was Interrogator Commander bowed slightly, a move that made the mask's skull seem to laugh an said," Your ingenuity continues to astound us." Lt. Starfield saluted him and replied, "Thank you, sir." She however was not altogether certain that it was healthy to be a source of the commander's amusement. The Interrogator technicians began a memory wipe program on her analytical computer that was built into the droid. The wipe program was designed to prevent what she intended to do, to use the data she had gathered for her own purposes. Lt. Starfield had made modifications in the analytical computer's firmware that would place a duplicate of her precious data in a added section of memory that she caused to be physically separated from the standard memory as she ran the last program. The interrogator's program would wipe out all the memory it found but would find no connection to her spare copy of the data. She would leave the control center with all the information intact.

Later in her office she gave the work crew the necessary orders concerning the filters in the interrogator section then she analyzed the data she had taken. Once fed into her computer the information would be rendered into the forms most useful to her, blueprints, wiring schematics, anything and everything an ambitious cat burglar could desire. The security system was state of the art for the spacecarrier but nothing she hadn't seen or dealt with before. Fortunately there were only three systems that she would have to circumvent to steal the prototype. The first was a combination heat and motion sensor attached to the alarm system, the second a laser field that surrounded the prototype, and the third a mild varying electronic signal that ran through the prototype itself that was automatically monitored. The next thing she analyzed was the data concerning the prototype, she wanted to give Major Blather's technicians as much information so they could to start building a duplicate of the prototype as soon as possible. The more they had ready the less time it would take them to copy the original. The data was more than enough to get Major Blather's technicians started on the general outer structure. If the stupid thing hadn't been so heavily shielded internally she could have handed Major Blather plans to build one himself. Still even the most careful plans could fall apart, there were so many things that could go wrong, but her mother hadn't raised any stupid children. If, a very large if, her plans worked then her problems would be solved. Of course if things didn't work out her problems would also be solved, at least she liked to believe dead people didn't have problems.

***

Chapter Four

Even though it would be another hour before she could begin Lt. Starfield checked the lifter droid for the third time. The droid was a uniform dull white and roughly the shape of a thirty gallon cylinder. It had built in repulsers that nullified the ship's gravity field and just enough brains to hover an avoid bumping into walls. It would follow her at whatever distance she had programmed into its memory. In its center compartment was a small analytical computer and a toolbox. By now she was sure everything she needed was there. What nagged at her was that a compartment door would vibrate open and drop something down a thousand foot shaft to no doubt land at the feet of a interrogator guard on patrol. The work crew had been busy removing all the out going filters from that wing of the interrogator section , she would have a clear path directly into the control room. She had exactly six hours to finish her task before the filters would be replaced. The maintenance shafts were a healthy four feet in diameter being designed to accommodate technical species moving replacement parts. A secluded supply room on the floor above the interrogator's section would give her access to an air shaft that she could follow into the Interrogator's air system. Once she was deep into the Interrogator section she wouldn't have to deal with any live guards since they would be stationed at the perimeters of the division only. The only personnel she would have to worry about was if some eager ensign was working late or came in early. It was fortunate that their research center was not on a twenty-four hour schedule. She locked her anti-gravity harness securely into place. The harness would nullify the ship's gravitational field in the area immediately around her allowing her to zip through several thousand yards of sometimes perpendicular air shafts in just minutes instead of hours. Her main concern was keeping the floating lifter and herself from bumping the sides of the air shaft. When she drew level with the air shaft grid that faced directly into the control center, Amber breathed a small sigh of relief, now for the hard part.

She made no attempt to remove the air vent grid but instead brought out from the carefully packed lifter something that looked like a metal shoebox on four wheels. It was just small enough for her to hold with one hand as she pushed open the air vent grid an allowed it to drop to the floor. When the metal box hit the floor with wheels whirling as it spun around and fixed on the small monitoring unit that controlled the heat and motion sensors. The monitor was a small limited function computer that kept processing the information relayed to it by the heat and motion sensors. The device had a sixty second delay to allow the proper personnel to shut it down when entering the correct code, those seconds should be just enough to allow her device to work. The device sped to the base of the monitor sprouting two sets of little metal pincers along the way. It then probed the junction of wires that fed the sensors' signal to the monitor. Once in position the metal claws clamped down, drawing the signals from the sensors into itself and sending out a steady empty signal to the monitor. Now it was safe for her to push the metal grid to an open position and drop to the floor. Followed by the lifter, Lt. Starfield walked over to the prototype but not too close, the device was a dark metal cylinder twelve inches in diameter and just over two feet long. Its surface was covered with a variety of male and female plugs, lights and orifices of unknown purposes. The prototype was secured in its own column that rose from the floor and continued into the ceiling. Reaching into the lifter's tool box, Amber brought out a set of protective goggles that let her see the web of lasers that surrounded the prototype. If any one of those beams were broken the alarm would be triggered and bring about half of the Interrogator Division running. Taking several strands of optic fiber from the tool box on the droid, Amber went to work. The normal function of the strands were to route light signals between ships communication systems. She carefully inserted the end of one strand of optic fiber into the top of the cylinder which received the laser beam from the bottom. She followed the trail of light until she found the initiator for that particular laser beam in cylinder's base. She inserted the other end of her optic fiber into the initiator, instantly the beam shifted to flow inside the optic strand. Lt. Starfield repeated this procedure five times before she could push the strands aside, reach in and shut off the laser net manually. Lt. Starfield paused to take a deep breath and wipe the moisture from her forehead, then stretched with arms raised to ease the tension as she walked back over to the lifter. From the lifter she pulled out an electronic monitor that was hooked to the droid's computer. She hooked up the monitor to the prototype, and let her computer analyze the pattern of pulses currently being sent through the prototype, yesterday's pattern would do her no good since the signal was changed on a daily basis. This signal was being monitored by the control center's main computer, if that signal changed from its pre-programmed pattern or stopped it could get very crowded. It took a full ten minutes before she was sure that her mini-computer had locked down the pattern and its variations. Lt. Starfield then inserted a wire clamp into the inlet at the top of the cylinder and another one into its base. The computer in the lifter would give off the same signal running through the prototype. Working as swiftly as possible for such delicate work, Amber began to undo the numerous connections that held the prototype in place. Once the device was free she hurriedly slipped it into a duffel bag and swung it over her shoulder. She still had to meet with Major Blather. Once she was back into the air shafts she retraced her path to the supply room, and then headed for the lab section of the Medical Wing 10. The staff had already prepared a duplicate of the prototype's housing into which she had to hook up the device and demonstrate it to Major Blather's satisfaction. As she struggled to complete her task the medical techs made a final check of the duplicate to make certain that it would pass a surface inspection, including the current pulse pattern. The review panel would meet in the morning, there was no margin for error.

The blonde major swaggered a little as he walked around his latest trophy. "You are sure the theft will not be detected?" asked the colonel. Lt. Starfield smiled, "Major Blather sir, I assure you that no theft will be detected," she said . Satisfied after his inspection of the prototype the colonel turned to leave as Amber began to unhook it from the power supply. Major Blather stopped and turned back to face her, "Why are you disconnecting the device?, You should be taking the duplicate back to the Interrogator's Control Center." Lt. Starfield replied without looking up, "Sir the possibility exists that a homing signal has been built into the device. It must be removed from the power source and placed in a shielded safe." Major Blather had a brief vision of black clad figures raiding the medical lab, and then noticed that he had become slightly damp from perspiration, "Very well lieutenant, carry on." said Blather as he left the room. By the time Lt. Starfield made it back to the interrogator's research center, there were only two hours before upshift began. Working as fast as she dared she began to undo everything she had done earlier that night. First the prototype was put back in place and reconnected, once she was sure the pulse was running she removed her computer link to the base. After that she turned back on the lasers and unhooked each of the five rerouted beams. As soon as that was done and everything was back in its place she maneuvered the lifter back into the air shaft, quickly following the machine. The only thing left was the device still attached to the motion and heat sensory unit. Lt. Starfield pushed recall on her remote control and the machine opened its claws and snapped around. Furiously the little thing sped for the air duct retracting its claws as it went. Lt. Starfield reached down and snatched it up into the air duct with her left hand and let the grid snap shut with her right. She was glad she didn't know the scant seconds she had beat the heat and motion sensor, her heart had had enough stress for one night. As she started back into the air shafts that would take her home, she stopped just long enough for a couple deep breaths. Everything had gone as she had planned, she trembled for a moment as relief swept her body. Lt. Starfield's elation would have been short lived had she known that several of the many dial faces in the control room were actually lenses connected to self-recording visual monitoring units. All of which had been put in place after her visit to the Interrogator headquarters.

The output was being monitored by an Interrogator Lieutenant, who notified the Lord Commander at the moment of her appearance. Everything she did was on optical disc, an excellent and clear image. First Commander Malacor had been expecting her to attempt to steal the prototype, he had not expected her to succeed! As Commander Malacor watched Lt. Starfield circumvent the heat an motion sensors his lieutenants took notes. By the time she began placing the optic fibers to circumvent the laser net, Commander Malacor had the original specifications and contracts for the security system in his hands. He was more than a little displeased, experts in security had assured him that the combined alarm systems on the prototype were impossible to circumvent. There was still the matter of the variable coded pulse that was monitored by the Interrogator's Corps secured mainframe. As he watched the female human neatly reroute and decode the signal, Malacor crushed the contracts in his hand. Someone was going to be disciplined, no one made idle boasts to the Interrogator Division. When his investigation of Lt. Starfield had linked her with Major Blather and he had discovered that the parameters of the medical sections project were identical to his own what was going on was obvious. He had suspected something of this sort when the lieutenant had drawn his attention. It was unfortunate her motives were criminal. His review of Lt. Starfield's files had shown an unusually high sensitivity to pain. She would tend to lose conscious during questioning, making it at least a minor challenge, it was unfortunate that she was not likely to survive the experience. Commander Malacor was still in the viewing room when little over an hour later Amber reappeared carrying a prototype. Clever, thought Commander Malacor to leave a duplicate in place. He was in no hurry to arrest Lt. Starfield, he could bide his time. It was his desire to seize Captain Frizz at that morning's demonstration with stolen property. The arrival of upshift found an exhausted but very active Lt. Starfield in her private quarters. She had packed everything yesterday, after she had received word that her emergency transfer had been approved effective today. There were still a host of last minute details to take care of before she left ship. Several days earlier she had discussed with Karrack what to do with the special package he had put together for her. Sergeant Trog had arranged to take two days off on her behalf just in case she hadn't been able to get off the spacecarrier immediately. She really didn't need him now but he had said he would hang around to make sure none of her things got accidentally spaced. It was going to get very interesting very fast. She hoped to be as many light years away as possible.

It was routine for any officer responsible for a developmental project to be subject to periodic reviews. The Alliance expected results from its expenditures, the medical section's project was now due for a demonstration. The demonstration was taking place in a conference room large enough to accommodate the panel of officers, the prototype and accompanying technicians. The techs hovered around the prototype as they hooked up various wires that trailed from the ceiling, as the device itself lay on a demonstration table. While the prototype held center state in the circular conference room the panel of officers were placed at a safe distance against the far wall. The panel was composed of four male officers, Major Blather, another human, an Avianary and a Vorn. While the device was being hooked up to power outlets, the Major Blather politely chatted with the other human officer. The Avianary was singing in deep notes to the Vorn, who as he inspected his nails for any leftovers from breakfast just looked incredibly bored. A pure white Avianary, Captain Frizz stepped in front of the prototype an began a brief description of his device. When he concluded his short song Captain Frizz signaled the technicians to begin the demonstration. It was at this moment that Commander Malacor stepped into the room. The room became quite, even the Vorn took notice, perhaps thought the Vorn this would be interesting after all. Captain Frizz glanced at the approaching Interrogator and turned to look at the officer panel. Major Blather caught his glance gave his head a slight no motion and watched as the Interrogator Commander came forward. Captain Frizz's attention was taken by one of the technicians. The tech had been trying with difficulty to start the prototype, with a look of panic in his eyes he stepped over to Avianary officer an said, "Sir the device has no internal wiring it is just a shell." Captain Frizz nodded his head and walked slowly toward the review panel. Several white feathers floated loose from his crest as he sang to the panel of officers ,"Sirs, there appears to be damage to a small but essential part that will take several days to replace, therefore I must ask for a delay of the demonstration. " Major Blather was for granting the delay immediately while the other officers had doubts. The Vorn colonel just snarled something about incompetence, and it being near lunch time. Alarmed , Captain Frizz took several rapid steps away from the Vorn . During all of this the ebony Interrogator Commander had moved down to the prototype as technicians fled his path. Malacor touched the prototype with a mailed glove, then he picked it up. Within his armor, nonhuman eyes glanced at the readings that the scanners in his armor relayed just above his normal line of sight. He then gently set it down and began to make a sound. The sound wasn't very loud. Technicians that were huddled to one side and yet close enough to hear it shivered. Had Lt. Starfield been in the room, she could have identified the sound, the Interrogator Commander was laughing. Among the panel of officers the word investigation was spoken and caught Commander Malacor's attention. "Gentlemen," he said in the polite tones, "I assure you that at this very moment my office is conducting a through investigation of Captain Frizz's development project, by all means grant him, his delay." Captain Frizz got his delay but he didn't look thrilled over the prospect. When the panel of officers adjourned the Avianary fled leaving a trail of white feathers. Major Blather did not lose any time getting to his private suite, as bad as the situation was it could be still be salvaged. He had arranged earlier for his best assassin to kill the lieutenant, after of course she completed the theft of the prototype, surely she was dead by now. The assassin in question was a Cobran one of the few intelligent true reptile races of the Alliance. It was man sized , man shaped, scaled and spat one of the most deadly poisons known. Surely by now the treacherous Lt. Starfield was but a memory. It would be easy to blame this mess on her, as he had planned. Whatever she had done to arouse Commander Malacor's suspicions would be written off as the actions of a mercenary traitor.

The Cobran had headed for Lt. Starfield's personal quarters shortly before ship's dawn. The assassin found the door to Lt. Starfield's quarters open and the room empty except for storage containers marked for long term storage. He would have to inform Major Blather immediately he thought turning to leave, he stopped. There filling the doorway was a Vorn in combat armor, the Cobran spread his hood in warning and opened his jaws slightly threatening the Vorn. Sergeant Trog was not impressed, he was wearing space armor which was comprised of some of the toughest alloys known to the Alliance. However, he did put down his weapon. The Cobran began to lower its hood somewhat relieved but it was mistaken. Trog didn't want to fire the weapon an ruin any of Amber's pretties beside physical combat was a lot more fun. The Cobran realized its mistake the moment the Vorn came through the doorway. To kill the Vorn he would have to hit the head, the only part not covered in armor, this proved an impossible task while dodging blows. Nor could the snake creature use its venom with the Vorn holding its mouth shut. The fight was short, and not very entertaining by Vorn standards, the clean up took much longer. Sergeant Trog was inclined to forgive Lt. Starfield , he was fond of fresh snake meat.

It had never occurred to Malacor that Lt. Starfield had pulled a double switch until the other prototype had failed. He was in a considerably improved mood, he wanted her in custody before anything fatal happened to the environmental specialist. He had a warning issued through both the civilian and military networks aboard the carrier, "Attention any attempt upon the life or person of Lt. Amber Starfield, Environmental Specialist will be investigated as a capital crime by the Interrogator Division." Malacor was curious when her aide showed up and requested an audience. The Avianary stood frozen at attention every aspect of his uniform and person absolute Avainarin perfection. Draped in his cloak of the darkness, Malacor's form blended into the black obelisk that served as his desk. Shadows merged as the Interrogator Lord leaned back upon his throne. The shadows were only broken by the gleam of golden threads woven in the lord's mailed gloves. Their lights shifted as the tips touched. "You may now give me, your report Lt. Karrack." The Avianary began his song, it was one of great complexity and generous length. In the song was a conspiracy by officers Blather and Frizz to defraud the Alliance of funds granted for the development of the medical project, by substituting work legitimately done by Malacor's own staff. As the Avianary sang, Malacor leaned forward enough for the defuse lighting to bring to life the glittering skull of etched gold on his ebony mask. When Karrack had finished, Malacor straightened up in his throne. As he looked down at one dark mailed hand, inquired in laden tones, "Lieutenant, You do have evidence to support these charges?" It was at this point that Karrack placed his report on the commander's desk with all the care one laid an offering before a large an hungry god. Malacor opened the packet, in it was a hand written letter from Lt. Starfield. It read, First Commander Malacor, I have sent my personal aide with certain facts concerning Major Blather that have recently come to my attention. Major Blather ordered me to steal your prototype, since I did not follow his orders for reasons of personal safety I have taken a transfer off ship, respectfully yours, Lt. Starfield. Commander Malacor turned his attention to the printed information that Karrack had presented. He was not easily impressed but this was a remarkable piece of work. It wasn't the evidence that held his attention since his aides had uncovered similar information in his own investigation. What was impressive was the reports organization which arranged the evidence so as to render the largest number of charges of the maximum severity against the two officers involved. Commander Malacor made a mental note to consider screening Lt. Karrack for the Interrogator Division. After he dismissed the Avianary, Commander Malacor received a copy of Lt. Starfield's emergency transfer orders. Malacor looked at them once, then looked at them once again, this couldn't be right? The transfer orders had assigned Lt. Starfield as troop leader aboard a combat troop carrier. What idiot had assigned a valuable technician to combat duty?

***

Chapter Five

Combat Leader Starfield stood dressed in her new dark green uniform, looking out the port-hole at the surrounding star clusters. The other side of the transport's view was still blocked by the slowly shrinking form of the spacecarrier. It wasn't the changing of duty stations that worried her. She had left herself wide open with an emergency transfer request, but never in her wildest dreams did she expect to pull combat duty. True the emergency listing was a compilation of positions that needed to be filled as of yesterday, but this? She hadn't expected a position as an environmental specialist. She wanted off the carrier and none of the other large ships in the fleet were in transferring distance. Had it been unreasonable to hope that one of the specialties she qualified for was in demand somewhere? All she wanted was to get out of Major Blather's immediate reach. She wasn't sure if Blather could manage to send out an assassin from the brig but she wasn't taking any chances or so she had thought. By the time she came anywhere near the spacecarrier again First Commander Malacor would have long finished with Blather. Blather would be lucky if he managed a dishonorable discharge, the Interrogator Commander might just demote him down to dead person. She hoped Blather on a silver platter would be enough to placate Malacor, she didn't want to wind up as dessert. It had been a good plan except somehow her request had fallen into the hands of the one personnel director that hated her guts. She had worn combat armor before, but it wasn't the hazards of combat that were foremost in her mind. It was the knowledge that combat troops resented being given orders in general, but most especially by non-combative species. Fatal accidents occurred whenever a leader was seen as unfit for command.

She had five hours before her shuttle would stop at her new assignment, the troop carrier "Fang". This troop carrier was occupied by a complement of over two hundred Wagner, plus support specialties. She needed information on what she was up against. Troop Leader Starfield slipped her orders disk into the computer slot on her seat an began to wade through the reference files concerning the history and nature of the occupants of troop carrier "Fang". The number of troop leaders that had encountered fatal accidents in the last quarter alone was enough to cause her to feel queasy. The description of the Wagner made the term vicious killer seem totally inadequate. The Wagner gave the general impression of a feline crossed with the best qualities of a six foot praying mantis. The Wagner's outlines were humanoid in general but terrifying in detail. The alien held its limbs slightly bent, straightening them only to spring for a kill or to expand its reach for a strike. Without conscious effort it would be easy to underestimate the size of the six foot alien whose mass went over two hundred pounds. The effect was magnified by the fact that the alien usually moved with its leg joints bent. The only visual aspect of the alien that was impressive was the head but that was enough. The head was framed by a set of large feline-like ears that could detect an astonishingly wide range of sound at incredibly low levels. The eyes were so efficient in low light that at standard ship levels the almond shape eyes recessed into the massively boned skull were only seen as a blue green glow. Remarkable as these things were they were rendered into secondary characteristics in the presence of the Wagner's mouth. This mouth could split open 160 degrees to reveal incisors ranging from one to three inches in length. The teeth were set in double overlapping rows on both the upper and lower jaws. When put in use these teeth formed a cutting machine so efficient as to render the famed Terrain shark vegetarian by comparison. Referring to the files on hand it was clear all standard techniques to bring the ship to heel had already been tried. It was also clear she wasn't going to overwhelm the Wagner with her physical presence; her only hope was to out think them. She was grateful for whatever clerk had thought to include a full reference on Wagner culture.

It was another hour before she found something she could use. Combat Leader Starfield made a careful inspection of her new combat armor, she didn't look forward to the ordeal of living in it for the next week. While in the suit with her helmet on the Wagner would only be able to note that she was humanoid, the visor was one way glass nothing could see in. All this planning would be totally useless if any of the Wagner actually paid attention to the assumption of command orders posted to their ship. She would have to count on the pack ignoring any data about their short lived commanders. After her transport docked with the troop carrier Combat Leader Starfield made a careful inspection of her armor, and sealed the helmet in placed. When she stepped out of the airlock, she found only one being to greet her. With her recent experiences still fresh in mind she had no problem recognizing the alien's species immediately. Standing stiffly at attention the ship's administrative clerk was a Malestron! She had never actually seen one before. The uniform the alien wore was a special fabric designed to seal the creature from the environment except for the head. The special design was not to protect the Malestron but to keep it from leaving little puddles of slick fluid wherever it went. The head was human if you discounted the fact that there was no hair, no external ears, and the scent organ was a small depression in the center of the face's flat surface. The neutral coloring of shades of gray linked with no obvious cutting plates in the mouth lead her to believe that this was a neuter male, the neuter females were rarely seen off planet. Despite the general lack of any attractive features it wasn't repulsive as she had expected. She decided it was the skin that made the difference. The mucous film had a sheen that made the creatures skin an interplay of mother of pearl colors.. She also decided that the creature looked depressed, she trusted her instincts on reading alien expressions even with unfamiliar species.

In a voice totally deprived of life the Malestron spoke, " Welcome aboard, Combat Leader Starfield, I am your administrative aide, Specialist Milt." Combat Leader Starfield returned her new aide's salute, "Thank you, for your courtesy Specialist Milt, It must be hard learning the name of a new combat leader ever week." With that she swore she saw the Malestron's colorless lips wiggle. "Hah!" she thought, "I almost made the fellow laugh." Not that it took the Wagner a week to depose of a group leader, she doubted if some of them had time to unpack. It just took the high command several days to get around to sending in a replacement. The alien for the first time really looked her over and said, " Combat Leader Starfield is aware of our ship's unfortunate history?" With a growl Amber replied, " Specialist, I can tell you when those disreputable low life were whelped!" The Malestron appeared to pick up a little, " There will be no more causalities, Sir?" he asked. "Sure there will be Specialist, they just won't be combat leaders," she said with as much menace as she could manage. As her new aide placed her luggage on the maintenance droid, he asked "Your quarters, Sir?" Combat Leader Starfield replied, " No specialist, take me directly to the armory. "

While they made their way through assorted hallways to the armory Amber quizzed her companion on the troop carrier's current status. Of the support specialties only two androids, a pilot and a navigator and an Archaid engineer remained with the aide. All others had fled to other assignments or had ended up on causality lists. The androids being artificial creations were considered as furniture and unworthy of challenge. The Archaid was the size of a personal transport, who considered any challenging Wagner to be a nice snack. This tended to discourage attacks, dying didn't scare a Wagner but the spider would inject its own enzymes into the corpse and suck the fluids out of the attacker rendering it inedible to the remaining Wagner. In Wagner culture if you were not eaten by your pack mates after death, your spirit would be destroyed or consigned to some Wagner's version of hell. The explanation didn't quite translate but the Wagner's fear did. The survival of the specialist was more tenuous, no Wagner would admit to killing a mere clerk, beside who would fill out the paper work to order supplies or food? Clerical duties were considered the duties of lower races. The Malestron had been very careful to guard his lowly image. With only four support techs on board, the ship was desperately undermanned and unfit for combat of any kind. It was obvious the ship was a prime candidate for target practice. When a ship in a combat group became unmanageable, it was slated for destruction. The selected ship would be slaughtered without mercy, without prisoners, without any hope of reprieve once the orders were given. Such a policy served as a powerful deterrent among the combat species from making any unreasonable demands. The troop carrier "Fang" was obviously out control, she doubted if she failed there would be anymore replacements. From the ship records she had reviewed, she knew this whole process had begun after a major assault about six months back when the ship had lost all of its officers and most of its senior soldiers in battle.

"Specialist Milt, why couldn't any of the remaining soldiers assume command or the other Wagner ships send in officers to take over?" she asked. "It might have been possible," sighed the Malestron which was a sound like a drowning bird, "except the other ships only sent personnel that they didn't want, creatures who had just barely escaped being eaten alive or who's status was so low the other Wagners wouldn't give them the honor of a clean death." Great, thought Amber, I have to bring a ship load of one the universe's most dangerous carnivore's criminal class under control. At this point the spacecarrier's brig was beginning to look like a luxury resort. She wondered if it was too late to call up First Commander Malacor and confess, maybe he would send someone to get her? When they had arrived at the armory, Specialist Milt opened the arms locker for her. The locker contained weaponry a couple hundred Wagner might need to take anything from an orbital station to a planet. Starfield walked through the racks of weapons. Fusion missile launchers looked nice but weren't practical aboard a ship. Finally after scanning the shelves of weapons, she found what she was looking for. It wasn't standard issue but she had never found any sizable group of combat troops that didn't have at least one or two stashed away. There was just something about projectile weapons that appealed to a variety of warriors. Combat Leader Starfield picked up her prize along with a generous number of clips for it. She checked but it was spotlessly clean. As she loaded the semi-automatic projectile weapon, she asked Milt about the previous owner. "The original ship captain collected hand weapons, that piece was one of his favorites. He was very proud of it and his ship." said the Malestron, as he watched with complete mystification her sight the gun and stuff clips in the pockets of her space armor. Starfield replied, " If I can help it the troop carrier "Fang" will be something to be proud of again." By this time Amber had found a nice large knife that fitted firmly into one of her boot's shielding (guns did jam). The Malestron said somewhat hesitantly, "Sir these are Wagners." "Specialist, I am eminently aware of that fact, please take the luggage to my personal quarters and bring the current muster report to my office." The conversation ended, Combat Leader Starfield turned and left the armory.

The few Wagner they had passed in the hallways had ignored both of them completely. Being ignored was the greatest insult Wagner culture had to offer. The Wagner's famed dental equipment was not her only concern. Three inch talons graced the tips of the Wagner's four fingered hands. In combat soldiers the talons were sheared off at the finger tip on the right hand, allowing them to use Alliance technology. Since the Wagner were a pack society she knew she would find the majority of them in the ship's main bay. She paused just briefly inside the holds door to look over the troops. The Wagners were in various stages of repose, apparently unconcerned with minor details like the arrival of a new commanding officer. She needed to find their current pack leader. This involved looking for the toughest one in the bunch, sure enough in the far corner was a nasty looking fellow with a hideous scar slashed across his face that had taken out his left eye. He was wearing an officer's sash across his chest. The embroidered symbol of rank looked dirty, she suspected the stains on it were blood. Anger flushed through her removing the last specks of fear and what little common sense currently in residence. It was a good thing, to do what she was about to do, you needed to be mad. Stepping into the room Starfield, made her way toward the pack leader. She had to step over or go around various groups of Wagner, who didn't deem to notice her. She gave no orders, didn't speak a word but held her course. As she approached the Wagner leader in one motion she drew out her pistol and blew a hole through its left shoulder, disabling its claw hand. Without pausing she swung the pistol into direct line with the creature's one good eye and said, " Staff sergeant, you have my sash.", with a casualness generally used to refer to the weather. At the sound of pistol fire all the Wagner had looked up and froze in place. The staff sergeant was not completely stupid, he grasped the sash with his remaining good arm, slipped it over his head and held it out for her. Combat Leader Starfield holstered the gun and slipped the sash over her head across one shoulder. " I will expect all combat soldiers to report for inspection of arms at 13:00 in the main bay, any soldier failing to attend will be eaten." , she announced. She then turned her back on the wounded staff sergeant and left the room the same way she had come in with one difference. The Wagner now stood up and scrambled to get out of her way. Combat Leader Starfield walked to her quarters at an unhurried pace.

The time she had set for the inspections was only two hours away, which meant those disreputable excuses for soldiers would have to move like vermin on ice to get ready for it. The sash was indeed stained with blood in a variety of different colors. She was not even going to try and clean it, more like a decent funeral. A new sash had been issued to her on her commission, she would switch to that one. While she sat in her office, Amber took the time to remove her helmet. The Malestron walked in as she was drinking a cup of hot tea made from her personal supplies. The alien took one look and started dropping the papers he was carrying. " You are human, a female?", he said in shocked tones. "Specialist Milt keep your voice down, and please close the door. I would expect at least you to have bothered to read the change of command orders." she said. The Malestron was still adjusting to the dramatic change in the Wagner's behavior in the past few minutes. As he had come down the hallway the Wagner had dived out of his way, it usually went the other way around. "I am sorry sir, my apologies, I should have read the orders but after so many deaths the less I knew about the latest commander the less painful it was when, when they died." replied the aide. Stopping to pick up the scattered muster report, the specialist spoke, "Why are you hiding the fact that you are a human female?" , sipping her tea Amber replied, "Because it is part of my strategy not to reveal my true nature until the proper moment." As he placed the muster report on her desk the specialist continued, " If the Wagner knew you were female you would be safe, one of the Wagner's greatest taboos is against attacking their own females or the females of an intelligent allies species . Humans are one of the qualifying species." Looking up from examining her tea cup Combat Leader Starfield said, "Am I correct in understanding according to custom I am covered by the same codes and taboos that protect their own females? Don't bother to reply I already know the answer. In fact I am counting on it, but if they knew what I was at this point I would be safe but the ship would not be. They will only obey my orders if I am accepted as a warrior first, I must bide my time." The Malestron rolled its eyes, a truly appalling gesture in a being without true eye sockets. " Time is the one thing you do not have!" he stated emphatically. "Specialist Milt, sit down, I will explain." she replied. The time for the inspection was drawing close so Amber kept her explanation as short and as simple as possible, considering her plan was neither. The Malestron listened patiently to every detail but then said somberly ," It might work if you can carry it off, but have you considered the results of any mistakes on your part?" Amber was equally somber as she replied, " Yes, I have."

The Malestron rose from its seat and began to walk slowly in place. It was the alien's equivalent of pacing the floor. Watching him made her think of Malacor, this was something she was sure he would never do. The motion was fairly short in duration when the alien stopped and asked, "Why go to all this trouble? Why risk your life when after a quarter you could request a transfer to another duty station." Amber said as gently as possible "Surely you must realize that this ship is weeks away from being consigned to target practice? If my plan fails, everyone on the ship dies, you, me, the Archaid, as well as the Wagners. There are no transfers, no survivors from a condemned ship." The Malestron's colorless lips began to waver as the solid black eyes filled with milky liquid. Amber was surprised, it never occurred to her that the Malestron might react emotionally. She had only stated the obvious. Haltingly in a small voice, the Malestron said, "If I die in service, executed aboard a condemned ship, my family line will be disgraced, my name a curse word among the young." By this time Amber had stood up and walked over to the distressed alien. It wasn't military code but she was at a loss at what else to do. She gave the tearful alien a hug and said, "I am a lot tougher than I look and with your help, I am sure we can pull this off." The specialist appeared to consider this for a moment, then he said, " I will do my best to assist you, sir. First, you must know that while assassination is a disgrace among the Wagner there are Wagner on board who would not be above such a disgrace." Amber glanced at the time, she had to leave now! "Specialist Milt prepare whatever information you can think of that would be helpful into a report and bring it to my office as soon as you complete it, you are dismissed."

The inspection proved interesting of the two hundred Wagner only ninety-five could actually pass, which was more than she had expected. " Those, who are not combat ready do not eat." she said then continued , "All squad leaders will report up front immediately!" There were twenty squad leaders, including the Wagner she had wounded. The staff sergeant had not yet dressed his wound. Every squad leader bore signs of recent battle, several were bleeding profusely. This was what she had expected when she had demoted the staff sergeant. The sergeant to keep any status in the combat group would have to defeat a squad leader in combat and take command of his squad. Pride would force him to select the next strongest Wagner to challenge. The loser of the battle would have to challenger another Wagner for his position. This would continue down the line until the weakest squad leader was defeated into non-leader status or killed. "Any squad leader with a trouper that has not passed inspection will not eat regardless of the condition of their own person." This put twelve of the squad leaders on discipline. "At 06:00 tomorrow you will be prepared for an inspection of the squad dens, afterwards there will be an obstacle run in full battle armor to test the physical condition of the soldiers. You are dismissed." With a precision about face Combat Leader Starfield left her less than happy combat group. Once she was again within the relative safe confines of her office, Amber sat in full armor reviewing the reports that the Malestron had left her. She had known before seeing the muster report that the ship wasn't combat ready but this was truly pitiful. It wasn't just a shortage of trained personal for the maintenance of the combat group but actual hardware was either missing, destroyed or lost. She wrote up a list of supplies for the specialist to order. The paperwork alone would keep him busy for several days. She missed Karrack, he could have done the same thing in an hour. It was just as well she thought, the Avianary would have took one look at the files and begun to molt. She didn't know if she could manage to sleep sitting up in combat armor but she didn't have much choice. She couldn't lock the door to her office, such an action would be considered a sign of fear, something she must never show. At least the chair could be adjusted to a reclining position and it wasn't the most difficult position she had ever had slept in. It wasn't moving and she wouldn't fall out of it onto the jungle floor to provide snack food for the local wildlife. The Malestron aide came by several times. He had a real gift for arriving at the last possible moment before she was actually asleep. She was beginning to get irritated, just what did the alien think he could do? He wasn't a combat soldier, but then come to think of it neither was she.

She had been asleep when her eyes opened. The first thing she saw were teeth. Standing over her was a Wagner with a laser rifle in its hand. The mouth gaped open slightly displaying the sharp points of rows of teeth as saliva dripped from its jaws. The pistol in her lap had slipped from her hand onto the floor, there was no way she could reach it in time. Suddenly the Wagner jerked back swinging the rifle wildly. The Malestron had grabbed it from behind. Snarling in rage the Wagner shook off Milt, in one motion using his clawed hand the Wagner ripped through the Malestron's uniform and disemboweled him. Tossing him across the room to slam into the far wall with an impact that would have shattered bones if the Malestron had any. It had taken the Wagner scant seconds to rid itself of Milt but it was all the time Starfield needed. She had dived to the floor the moment the Wagner's gaze was off of her. As the Wagner turned back to its target , mouth agape in a snarl, the last thing it ever saw was the business end of a standard automatic as Starfield in a knelling position fired through its open mouth and blew off the back of its head. It was the one shot that could kill a Wagner instantly. That didn't stop her from pausing long enough to put a bullet through each of the creatures eyes as she stepped over it. She wasn't taking any chances on it getting up again, with that taken care of she rushed over to the Malestron. The specialist lay where the Wagner had thrown him. Milt had been sliced open from his lower torso to the bottom of his neck. Unidentifiable body parts were scattered about and the gaping hole was oozing a pale liquid she knew to be what passed for Malestron blood. Milt was fast going into shock as she hit the intercom button to the crew quarters, " Staff Sergeant Stark, report to my quarters immediately!" she shouted into the speaker. It was a chance involving the Wagner leader but from what her aide had told her earlier, Stark was as honorable as Wagners go, which wasn't far. But she was going to need all the help she could get if she was going to save him. To his credit Stark showed up in what must have been record time. The Wagner took one look at the carnage in her office, snarled and dashed out the door?!! Thankful that the electronic encoder in her personal translator had been adjusted to remove any hint of feminine pitch in her voice, Amber screamed after him, "Don't you dare leave, you sorry excuse for swamp scum! If I lose my aide over this I will have you formally executed and your corpse rendered inedible!" That turned him. "I must avenge this dishonor!" snarled the Wagner. Looking up from where she kneeled over the Malestron's body , Amber snarled back, " You will do exactly as I tell you or that maggot food lying over there will not be the only Wagner aboard this ship to die tonight uneaten!" Stark's ears came up and his jaws snapped shut. In a much calmer tone he asked, "What needs to be done?" " I need a liquid tight container that is large enough to cover him in fluid to a depth of ten inches, now!" she said as she tried to staunch the flow of fluid oozing from the Malestron's gaping wound. " At once, sir" the Sergeant replied with a salute an left quickly. Somewhere she made a mental note as she juggled everything she needed to consider that this was the first time any of the Wagner had saluted her. Amber got up and went over to the intercom again and this time she signaled engineering, "This is Combat Leader Starfield speaking, Archaid engineer 5th Class. Web report to my quarters, immediately!" She had not met the engineer yet but official introductions would have to wait. She debated whether to scoop up various parts strewn on the floor and put them back inside of the Malestron, but that would increase the chance of infection. At least the Wagner were scrupulous about keeping their talons clean, the wound was as sterile as if rendered by a surgeon's scalpel.

The Archaid engineer showed up outside her office but didn't come in which was understandable since it was about half the size of the room. The creature moved to an angle so that it could peer into her office with most of its eight eyes. The creature's encoder did not delete totally the note of sadness in its inquiry "Specialist Milt is dead?" "No, not yet he isn't and I don't intend to lose him. Web I need your help, I must have a way to keep a pool of nutrient that I am going to submerge him in at his normal body temperature, plus circulate it constantly without being filtered in anyway." she said. The Archaid sat for a moment, a position that was accomplished by folding the hind four legs only. The spider being spoke, " It can be done but I will have to go get the equipment." "One more thing Web, " Amber added, " I have a list of supplies that I must have to build the nutrient's base formula." Amber got up and went to her desk , and scribbled the list out in what she hoped was large enough script for Web to read. She stepped over the Wagner corpse and held it out to Web. The spider reached out one specialized front leg and delicately took the list form her. "Can you read that?" she asked The creature shifted position to put its eyes and sizable mandibles level with her head , and snapped " I have no problem reading." Starfield never flinched and said, " Look , soldier , I meant no disrespect but it would be foolish to send you out with a list written by my less than perfect military script without making sure it was legible, now get moving." With that she turned her back on the creature and returned to her place beside the Malestron. Good grief she thought, I hate overly sensitive aliens, believe me if I wanted to insult something there would be not any doubt about it! She just hoped that the stuff she had put on that list was actually aboard the troop carrier. Surely Milt would have stocked the supplies necessary for the different medical emergencies of his species? The next few hours passed in a blur as Combat Leader Starfield struggled to put together a nutrient fluid to immerse the Malestron. Once they had placed Milt into the container at least what was leaking out was being saved but the alien had become the consistency of warm gelatin, which could not be a good sign. If it worked the fluid would keep the alien alive and supply it with food to regenerate the lost body parts. After Stark had left for his squad den , Amber sat down next to the Malestron's container. "Ok," she said in a strained voice, "You are supposed to be one of the most durable life forms in the Alliance, time to prove it. If you die I am going to be very disappointed!" The moisture in her eyes threatened to spill out but she was too tired to take the helmet off. She sat back to watch the softly gurgling fluid in the container. Amber knew that war had broken out in the squad dens. Killing a leader by stealth was an abomination against the Wagner's code of honor. Staff Sergeant Stark as pack leader was responsible with his honor for any crime committed by the pack. The only way he could purge himself from the stain of this crime was by tracking down and killing any creature involved. Amber had no doubt wounded shoulder and all, that one eyed one step away from a slime guttural would give it his best shot. The attack upon her was also a open insult to the other squad leaders since it implied that there were no Wagner capable of challenging her in a honorable duel. Even in her office, she could hear the screams and growls of battle coming from the squad dens. She would have to delay her inspection for twenty-four hours, she wasn't up to going down there just yet. In the mood she was in , she would have added a few numbers to the body count. The Archaid engineer camped outside her door, ostentatiously to keep some eyes on the equipment. She was grateful for his presence. It meant she could get some real sleep which she dearly needed. Even in full battle armor it didn't take long for her to fall into a deep dreamless sleep.

Her neck and shoulders were locked painfully in one position when she woke up a few hours later. Checking on the Malestron first thing Starfield's attention turned to getting professional medical attention for her aide. Immediately after the assault she had sent off several urgent requests for medical aide without any satisfactory response. Determined she beamed the signal ship demanding medical assistance be sent. Lt Starfield spoke to one being after another, none of whom would commit to sending a medical evac ship to her troop carrier. Finally she was able to speak to communication's officer in charge, a rather smug Reptiliod. Captain Slith replied, " I am sorry Troop Leader Starfield at your unfortunate loss, but sending a medic immediately is impossible due to recent heavy casualties, The best we can do is schedule a medical evac ship to stop at your troop carrier in three days." Then to make matters worse the Reptiliod leaned closer to the screen and said in a confidential tone, "You know of course that the Troop Carrier Fang has the lowest possible rating at the moment. You are very fortunate to get a medical evac ship to stop at all.", then the creature signed off. Amber leaned back and looked at the ceiling. There is no use getting angry she thought, in his own way the Reptiliod had been perfectly candid with her and was actually trying to help, but what would happen to Milt in three days? There was also the possibility that because of the status of the ship even once aboard the spacecarrier he would be last in line for medical treatment. No there had to be another way to get the help she needed. There was no time to fight through official channels and none of her friends in the area had the pull to do what was needed. There was only one thing she could try.

Someone had once told her to never say never which was passing through her mind as she forked over the funds to beam a personal signal to the distance Spacecarrier Aegeaon. Notified of an incoming call on his personal code, First Commander Malacor sat down in front of his communicator. It was just as well that the Interrogator's Lord face was hidden behind an immobile mask, interrogators are not supposed to show surprise at anything. Amber's image appeared on the screen, she was in full battle armor with the helmet sitting to one side. She looked tired and her hair was in need of combing. "Ambrose" she began, " I need your help." "Indeed," was his reply, then silence. Amber blurted out in rapid fire her situation. The Interrogator commander questioned her, "You placed the Malestron aide in nutrient fluid immediately after the attack?" "I got him in it as fast as I could but it took nearly an hour to gather the necessary equipment and supplies. Milt was almost transparent when we finally slipped him into the vat, " replied Amber. "Ambrose, I 'm not trained for the possibilities of infection or complications, he needs expert evaluation now!" Amber continued, "I can't get any help because the Troop Carrier Fang is one officer, me, away from consignment to target practice." Amber said some more mental prayers as the armored image of death faced her on screen. The gold etched death's skull gave no hint of emotion as the commander replied with, "I will look into the matter." and then ended the transmission. Stunned by the abruptness of his conversation Amber laid her head on the desk , well I tried she thought, at least I tried. Then she picked up the helmet and began snapping it into place. The distance between the spacecarrier and the troop ship at top speed in a straight line was three hours away. In exactly three hours and ten minutes a complete medical team was requesting permission to board the "Fang".

***

Chapter Six

The Commander's chambers were dim the only sound a soft swish of fluid. Malacor's form flowed up and over the edge of his liquid nest. Slowly his form became less fluid as his outline took humanoid shape. His tentacles merged and twisted around each other to form legs, arms and fingers. He had immensely enjoyed his meal using his talon lined tentacles to strip it of flesh so that he had eaten most of it before it died. He was at the height of his power both physically and otherwise. Yet he felt like a fledgling that had been stepped on, the pain would not go away. When the now Combat Leader Starfield had first sought to attract his attention, it was her methods that had aroused his curiosity. His interest had increased with the lieutenant's continuing display of ingenuity until she had circumvented his command center's defenses. Somehow in the interim between the revelation of the lieutenant's double switch of the prototype and the present moment, Amber had gone beyond a subject of interest. It had intrigued him that she had done enough research on his race to be well versed in body structure and first aide techniques. It had fascinated him that she had used this knowledge in an attempt to save someone she barely knew. But when she revealed the precarious situation in which she was involved, that "Fang" was a likely candidate for target practice, the surge of emotion within him had been totally unexpected. He had barely maintained control to end of the conversation. He stood in the still dark, plotting a reasonable course of action as befitting his position. It was hard to be reasonable when all he really wanted was to take his talons to whatever creature responsible for this situation. When he did may that creature's deities have mercy upon it, because he would not!

Combat Leader Starfield was ecstatic upon the arrival of the medical team. If First Commander Malacor had been nearby she would have hugged him. He had been so abrupt with her over the communicator that she had feared the worse. After carefully examining her aide the medics reported that eventually the specialist would make a complete recovery. They made preparations to transfer him to the medical ship to be taken to intensive care aboard the spacecarrier. After the medical team had Milt secured in the medical ship for transport, Starfield inquired about having a pair of trained medics assigned to the Troop Carrier Fang by the end of the week. The senior medic, a somber Saurian stiffened its three foot tail and replied, "Sir, you can not predict an medical emergency and this ship's reputation precludes any assignment of medical personnel." "Corpsman, I am not predicting a medical emergency, I am scheduling a medical emergency, and as for this ship's reputation, it is about to undergo drastic reformation. If you have any doubts about the validity of my requests perhaps you should make inquires to Commander Malacor?" At the mention of the Interrogator's Commander's name the Saurian's deep green scales blanched almost white. Starfield had no idea that that a Saurian could fade white like that, it was an impressive effect. As the medical team left she had no doubt that she would have her medical team on site and on time.

Troop Carrier Fang's combat leader would never know how many of the Wagner had been in on the assassination attempt or any of the details. She did not need to know. The following morning when she went to inspect the troops, there were seven fresh corpses laid out next to the Wagner she had shot. None of them shown any signs of being eaten. As she walked down the line of alien soldiers standing at attention she spoke, " My aide has been injured and will not be able to perform his duties, therefore I will need someone to take his place in a temporary capacity." She didn't bother to ask for volunteers, clerical duty was a fate worse than death for the Wagner. She paused in front of one Wagner. By the clan markings on his uniform it was evident that he was the ranking survivor of the den that had contributed to the body count on the recreation area's floor. The only difference between the marks and wounds he bore and that of the dead Wagner was that he was still breathing. "What is your name and rank, soldier?" she said sharply. " I am combat soldier, senior level, Click, Sir.", spoke the Wagner lisping between mangled jaws that sported fresh gaps of recently lost teeth. " Report for duty at 10:00 hours, in my office." she said while thinking, I hope he lives that long, at least as my clerk he won't have to fight any more duels. At the rate these guys are going by the time I get them in line, I may not have any soldiers left! Combat Leader Starfield continued her inspection of the squad dens. Only two dens passed which was more than she expected in a recent war zone. That cut down the number of Wagner still allowed to feed considerably. No one was in danger of starving, the aliens had a built in capacity for fasting but rationing of food was a traditional symbol of power among their culture's leaders. She still had not attended night chow or morning feed with the troops. The Wagner saw this as contempt on her part, which was not far from the truth. Starfield gave the squads their assignments and returned to her office.

It had only been just barely two twentyfour periods since Amber had left the spacecarrier. During that course of time Major Blather had found himself sitting in an interrogator holding cell . He hated the holding cell but far worse waited for him if he was found guilty. His next stop would be an interrogation chamber for a length of time and intensity of pain determined by his sentence. Elsewhere on the ship the sound proofing was flawless but not in the holding cell. Infrequent but unnerving screams of someone or something would pierce the quiet of his cell. He had only one hope, to use the evidence to blame that slime guttural disguised as a woman. Surely one of his assassins should have caught up with her by now. He had been careful to arrange the evidence to implicate her as an independent mercenary. He certainly didn't have the interrogator's prototype. It wasn't too late to save the original plan. Not too far away in another holding cell sat a very frightened personnel director. It had been terrifying enough to have half a dozen Interrogators swoop down on his office and go through all the records. But the next day when their commander had shown up! His throat still hurt, the creature had picked him off the floor with one hand and nearly throttled him. He swore by all the deities he could name that he had no idea that the "Fang" was due to be consigned. He had only been looking for an open combat post to get even with that woman for making fun of him. Oh! Deities! He was sorry, he just wanted to live!

First Commander Malacor sat on his black throne and toyed with the information that lay upon his desk. The trial of Major Blather would begin tomorrow, it would also end tomorrow. As for the personal director there was evidence to convict him of incompetence and misuse of his post. The director would be given a most unpleasant sentence that Commander Malacor intended to enforce personally. Then there was the matter of intra-corps discipline to deal with. Combat Leader Starfield had been gone over twenty-four hours and he had to learn from her that she was on a consigned ship? The Malestron's cartilage stiffened in anger as the flush of emotion caused his membranes to turn inky black. It was true that within minutes of her departure he had a report of her assignment and destination. However his junior officers had failed to interpret this data in any meaningful fashion. It was for such a thing that he depended upon his subordinates. It was not a commander's place to gather evidence, to draw conclusions for the thousands of cases that flowed across the Interrogator division's dockets. If he had been informed that Combat Leader Starfield was headed toward a possible consigned ship, he would have had the option to have the transport stopped and her returned as a required witness in Major Blather's trial. The Alliance code prevented removing a combat leader from an active assignment under anything less than a certified death warrant. He could not remove her form the Wagner ship until her assignment was resolved, either the ship removed form possible consignment status or destroyed. It was obvious that all personnel involved in gathering the data on Combat Leader Starfield's destination should be summarily and painfully executed. However that would leave a gap in personnel that would take several weeks to fill from transfers. Such a gap would be particularly inconvenient with the oncoming trials, he expected the confession of Major Blather to bring. Still such incompetence could not go unpunished. He would review the personnel involved, some would merely lose rank, others would spend several days assignment at another post as practice clients undergoing moderate to severe torture. The ranking officer however would assume full responsibility for the report. He would be striped of rank and sent to Lord Shivar's compound to die a slow and painful death. A sensor report would be made which he would review with all personnel who shared their leader's guilt. He would not fail to receive pertinent information again.

Combat Leader Starfield was completely unaware that the bloodshed aboard her troop carrier was nothing compared to the carnage beginning to unfold on the spacecarrier in her wake. Each day cycle she pushed the Wagners through an exhausting series of combat exercises. Any grumbling was met with remarks that left in no uncertain terms the fate of any soldier who proved incapable of following orders. Starfield made sure that they knew in her opinion they should have never been allowed in the military in the first place. Somehow this did nothing to mollify the Wagner who were furiously working to prove her wrong. When she finished with the Wagner, only two were still on regular rations, but the entire troop could pass anybody's muster. The weapons were immaculate, the quarters absolutely sterile and ever single Wagner hated her guts. She knew the time had come for the challenge.

Troop Leader Starfield entered the feeding hall after breakfast. It was full of Wagner, uniforms all immaculately pressed, talons polished and teeth gleaming. All of whom had been fasting for various time periods. The two who were still permitted to eat had refused. Staff Sergeant Stark stood up an gave her a formal salute then asked, " Combat Leader Starfield, may I speak." Amber looked at the grizzled, one eyed alien an said, " Permission granted, Staff Sergeant Stark." The battered male said with a low growl, " I, Staff Sergeant Stark, here an now , challenge you to personal combat, how do you answer?" Through her helmet Combat Leader Starfield surveyed the row upon row of gleaming teeth, she motioned a Wagner aside and sat down. Speaking clearly so all could hear she said, " Do you think I would lower myself to battle an injured male? If you must challenge me select your den brother and I will duel you both at the same time." There was a collective gasp from the Wagner pack, even the stern Stark was taken by surprise. "In addition, I do not intend to interrupt my professional responsibilities for personal pleasure, therefore your challenge will be answered in the recreation bay at 22:00 hours." At that point the chime rung signaling the end of morning feed, Starfield gave the various squads their assignments for the day.

After that she went to the trauma area to check on the status of the ship's new medics. The medic team was a two man group that consisted of a female Reptiliod and of all things, a Wagner medic? Amber did not know what motivated a Wagner to become a medic but it must have been something very strong. True a medic was exempt from challenge but the creature had to suffer the awful indignity of having all its teeth pulled out and the roots destroyed to prevent re-growth. The medic would then spend the rest of its existence on the Wagner's equivalent of baby food. She had forewarned the team to bring with them as much in medical supplies and equipment as possible. The Wagner medic approached her with its head bowed in deference to her position as commanding officer of the troop ship. " I do not wish to speak out of turn, Combat Leader, but I must inquire are you aware of the pack's current temper?", hissed the medic softly in a skull rendered so hollow by the absence of teeth that Amber wondered if she should wait for the echo. "Medic Clamp, if you are referring to the fact that the whole pack is on a prolonged fast and are a molecule's space away from a feeding frenzy at which I am the intended main course? I assure you, that I am most acutely aware of that status. Your first duties will be to attend the wounded at tonight's challenge." she said. The medic continued on, "Sir, the pack will not stop at one challenge, they will keep coming one by one until you are dead." Stretching as best she could in the armor, Amber replied, " I appreciate your concern medic but I will have only one challenge to answer." The medic bobbed his head and said, "How can you be so certain?" "Let me put it this way , does your training include exposure to humans?" she asked. Nodding his cavernous skull the Wagner medic said, "Yes". Amber walked over to the medical room's bay doors and locked them securely. As she walked back to the puzzled alien, she loosened the fittings of her helmet and removed it completely. Clamp took a few seconds to look at her features, cataloging secondary sexual characteristics, no Adams apple, moderate facial hair ,adding cultural standards of long hair, and shaped eyebrow hair. The medic looked like he was struggling to come to a conclusion. Then for the first time she spoke, her voice unfiltered by the combat armor's special encoder. In a soft soprano voice, Amber said, "Medic, I am what you think I am, a human female." The Wagner medic let out a sound that could have passed for a scream in most species. Whatever the sound was, it alarmed the medic's female reptiloid partner who rushed over to investigate. The toothless carnivore gasped heaving great gulps of air, "You can't." Amber was surprised, she didn't know that the Wagner's emotional range made it to hysterical. "The whole ship will be disgraced!, continued the gasping Wagner. "Medic Clamp this ship is already a disgrace. Once I defeat the original challenge, I will call for a time out. During this break I will reveal my true nature with you to confirm my sexual identity." The medic lifted his talonless hands to his head and wailed, "They will all have to kill themselves because of the dishonor, even I will be included because I knew!" Carefully putting her helmet back on Starfield answered, " The only way anyone dies after I win the challenge is with my permission, by your own laws the pack will be obligated to follow my commands." The slowly calming Wagner spoke , "but only if you win." If I win she thought as she checked her helmets fittings. If I don't the disgrace of killing and possibly eating a sentient female ally will traumatize the entire ship, of course by then it will be someone else's problem.

While Combat Leader Starfield made careful preparations for battle, Commander Malacor was waging a few wars of his own. At the onset of his trial Major Blather had implicated Lt. Starfield in the theft of the prototype. The defense asserted that the only thing Major Blather was guilty of was refusing to purchase the prototype from the mercenary First Lt. Starfield. First Commander Malacor had sat patiently during the recital of this nonsense. His presence alone was enough to cause a sensation among the trials' three judges. By the time a case came to trial, the evidence was usually so strong the prosecution was done by the military's attorneys, not the Interrogator Division directly. The question in criminal cases was usually not of guilt but the severity of the sentence to be issued. When the defense had finally finished, Commander Malacor rose to his feet an spoke , " It is curious how the defendant claims his innocence when it was First Lt. Starfield who first alerted me to the Colonel's actions. " (Which was true enough, it was her attentions that had spurred his investigation.) Indeed I have a signed affidavit by the First Lt. Starfield (Amber's good-bye letter) that the colonel ordered her to steal the prototype but she did not obey those orders." Jumping to his feet, Major Blather shouted "It's a lie!". The two interrogators standing behind him moved as one. Their motion was too swift to follow but Blather was slammed back into his chair. The blonde colonel's face went ashen white under the stunning pain that the guards had inflicted in that brief flash of motion. Malacor spoke again , "Major Blather, I have allowed you to speak at great length, please do allow me the same courtesy. My men will help you to remember proper court procedure." As Malacor's guards resumed their position just behind him, Blather sat looking into his folded hands, he would not interrupt the Interrogator Commander again. The panel of judges had remained silent during this exchange. None of them had been prepared to see the head of the Interrogator Division prosecute such a minor case, Malacor began to walk slowly toward the panel of judges. "I have proof that an assassin retained by Major Blather was sent directly from the Colonel's quarters to the personal quarters of the now Combat Leader Starfield." As the commander spoke his junior officer brought a packet of papers and disks to the judicial panel. " I have also secured the financial records that show that the funds from the grant were diverted to the private accounts of Major Blather and Captain Frizz." with this Captain Frizz was escorted into the room by several black armored figures. The white Avianary was missing patches of feathers, Major Blather's lips began to quiver slightly. "Before calling Captain Frizz to the stand, I would also like to present transcripts of interviews with the personnel of medical wing 10. These transcripts prove conclusively that no serious research of any kind was conducted at these facilities, and that Major Blather faked numerous records involving medical personnel." Before the Interrogator Commander finished with his evidence besides Major Blather and Captain Frizz, a dozen technicians, six junior officers, two generals and three entire departments would face investigation with the possibility of reprimands, demotion or worse at the hands of the Interrogator Division. It would be a very long time before anyone considered stealing anything from the Interrogator Division again. When the Interrogator prince had reached his summation there was enough evidence to convict Major Blather of all charges three times over. After Malacor had finished, the judicial panel consulted for a respectable five minutes before passing sentence. Major Blather, who had long since folded his arms on the table and sunk his head within their shelter, stood up for sentencing. None of the Major Blather's crimes warranted the death penalty since there was no evidence that could link the colonel to treason or causing the Alliance to forfeit a victory. Clearing his the throat the senior judge an Avianary in gray-blue plumage sang slowly, " It is the judgment of this court that Major Blather be striped of all rank and be sentenced to ten years of hard labor in a planetary prison." Ex-Major Blather perked up a little, that sounded better than he had expected, but the Avianary judge continued, " Prior to this sentence being carried out the defendant will be given over to the Interrogator Division for immediate discipline. The limits of the discipline being that it must not be life threatening or permanently impair the defendant's ability to carry out his ten years of hard labor. The duration of the discipline shall not exceed one year." As the Avianary finished speaking there was a loud crash. Commander Malacor glanced down at the cause of the disturbance, Blather had fainted. Inside his armor, Malacor smiled. It had been a long time since he had established the record for the highest pain levels for a human. Perhaps it was time he broke those old records, the limitations on the discipline would only make it a more interesting challenge. The next day the personal director stood trial. Since his placement of unqualified personnel could be linked to several battle losses, he was sentenced to death. The loses however were minor in character so he was granted a swift execution, after being turned over to the Interrogators for three days of discipline. On the day of his execution, he walked unsteadily to the death chamber. He thanked the executioner profusely and sat down in the death chamber with a sigh of relief.

In space, two days later and some light years away Combat Leader Starfield was entering the recreation bay. The Wagner soldiers stood at attention in a line that formed a continuous circle along the walls of the huge room. The Archaid engineer Web had spun itself a prize seat directly above the battle arena. The huge spider being was her heavy artillery. She hoped she didn't need the Archaid, the Wagner in mass were quite capable of tearing him to shreds. The medics had set up their equipment near the main exit, in case a hasty retreat proved necessary. Troop Leader Starfield entered in battle armor carrying her choice of weapons, a short sword. As the challenged it was her right to select the weapon. When the two Wagner joined her in the circle of combat it became apparent that she was the smallest of the three. Since she could not duel in combat armor she began to remove it with the helmet first. As she signaled for her new aid Click to help her remove the rest of her armor, the Wagner began to whisper among themselves. It was apparent that while familiar with other combat species both of the Alliance as well as the Unification non-combat were less well known. It took her only a couple of minutes to strip down to the one piece undergarment that covered her torso and the soft leather boots she had worn under the armor. During this time one of the Wagner had circled from the far side to a position much closer to her. It was a male so old as to be missing teeth that no longer grew back, its talons beginning to blue with age. Snarling at the others around it, the newcomer managed to carve out a small spot. Finally with ears upraised in amazement it spoke to those around it. The others within hearing at first disagreed with the old male but he repeated his statement with a vow. Finally the word began to be whispered from one Wagner to the next. "It's human", spread like wildfire. Still the old male continued to stare at the progressing duel, something he was trying to remember, something, but it had been so long ago.

Combat Leader Starfield had several handicaps to deal with during the duel not the least of which was that she didn't want to kill the other two if she could help it, but she didn't want to die either. The one real advantage she had was that her human frame would allow her to move in ways the Wagner would not expect. The Wagner killing machine was completely oriented to the front, they always attacked in packs. She didn't intend to cooperate with any frontal assaults. Martial arts had been a hobby of hers but she was by no means a professional. She had to end the duel quickly before the Wagners could adapt to her tactics, if the duel lasted she wouldn't. The two Wagner began to circle her from opposing sides. The first strike would be crucial, she needed to take out the unwounded Wagner fast. What she was counting on was that Wagners could only turn by shifting their entire body, their pelvic structure was locked in place between the reinforced spine and the last lattice of their rib cage. As the first Wagner charged her, she threw herself to one side and swept the closest leg of the creature as it passed. The Wagner stumbled, off balance an fell to the ground. The Wagner rolled as it hit the floor came up on its talons and mid leg joints. In those precious seconds had Amber sprung to her feet, twisting into position behind the rising Wagner. Striking with both hands wrapped around the hilt of the sword she hit a spot at the base of the Wagner's skull. It was a small depression where the spinal column dove into that massive bone structure. The Wagner gagged, choked and was unconscious before it hit the floor. She didn't know how long it might stay down but she wasn't waiting to find out. She had decked the first Wagner in less than thirty seconds. Amber's attention was now fully riveted on Sergeant Stark who hissed and wove in front of her. She was able to fend off his sword thrust because of her greater maneuverability but she would lose that as she tired. Meanwhile the elder Wagner was trying to remember where he had met humans, as Amber dodged the remaining Wagner's attack. Something, he thought about the protein growths from the head and the upper body, what was it? Amber feinted to one side then made a move to charge Stark from the front. As Stark faced her in classic stance for a frontal attack, she swerved to the side at the last possible second. Diving to the floor she slide under his striking talons kicked out, striking the alien behind the knee. The Wagner toppled backward nearly on top of her. Amber rolled out of the way as Stark slammed hard onto the flooring. Amber sprung to her feet as the Wagner struggled to stand up, a feat that required him to roll over and use both hands to get on all fours, then to squat on his legs. The maneuver would take less than a 5 seconds but Sergeant Stark wasn't going to get 5 seconds. As he got on all fours, Amber using the hilt of the knife and both hands slammed it into a spot just behind the Wagner's left ear. The Wagner screamed in anguish as purple blood spurted from the ear drum that she had just shattered. Backing away Amber was not prepared to see the sergeant stand up to continue the fight. To make matters worse the other Wagner was showing signs that it was regaining consciousness. It looked like she was going to have to kill Stark after all. Suddenly from the crowd another Wagner jumped into the arena, picked up the dropped knife and charged her. It didn't get very far before it was airborne in the Archiad's webbing. The Wagner was furious as it swung overhead upside down, and its temper didn't improve as the Archaid quickly covered it in spider silk rendering it temporarily at least helpless. The other Wagners snarled in union. " Silence", Amber screamed at the pack, amazingly enough it actually got quieter. "The other challenges must wait until I am through with the first challenge, have you no honor, or do you fear me so greatly that you must break the laws of challenge to defeat me!" Some of the group actually managed to look embarrassed. "

Sergeant Stark, I have demonstrated my superiority in battle do you yield?" she said. Now the old male remembered, it was a long time ago there were human soldiers on the battlefield near his squad. He had spoken to one several times. It had shown him a picture of its mate. The creature had been quite rapt in the descriptions of the female's features. There were long growths of protein on the head and something about the size and placement of the nursing glands, then he looked again at the duel. Groggy from the pain Stark snarled at her , "It is better to die in battle than to live in defeat" Amber snarled a little herself, it looks like I am going to have to kill the idiot, she thought. "Ahhhhhhh!!!", screamed the old male, "The human is FEMALE!!". All the Wagner looked first at the old male then at her then back again. " Tell me Sergeant Stark what honor would you receive for killing a female in a duel?" , she asked The discovery that Combat Leader Starfield was indeed a female stunned the Wagner. She summoned the medics from where they had been stationed. Staff Sergeant Stark snarled at them refusing treatment for the hemorrhaging wound of his smashed ear drum. Idiot alien, thought Amber. "Sergeant Stark , I order you to accept medical attention immediately!" snapped Amber. The Wagner noncom was beginning to weave in his struggle to remain standing. With a tired growl the alien said, "I have dishonored my den by challenging a female, I choose not to survive." Starfield thought, don't tempt me, but she said, " Sergeant Stark, you and the troops aboard this carrier owe me a debt of honor. You will not escape your responsibilities to me by death. You may not terminate yourself without my permission until this debt is paid. You do not have permission!" This was too much for the battered one eyed male, he sank to the ground as the medics rushed to stem the purple stream that flowed downed the side of his head. As the medics began their work Amber looked up at the Archiad engineer. The huge creature seemed almost to float thirty feet above her head his lines of webbing barely visible. Engineer Web, did you know I was a human female?", she asked. The spider being clicked a reply that was translated to all its various listeners below, "Yes." "How did you come by this information?" she asked. The massive spider being replied, " I simply reviewed your orders of command, which are required reading by ship personnel." The here thro silent pack let out a collective whine. They were all guilty of neglecting the most basic of protocol. One by one the humiliated pack of Wagner assumed a position of submission, soon none of the pack were left standing. Combat Leader Starfield would not have to answer a challenge again and the Wagner would obey her in all things. It had taken a week and nearly cost her the life of her aide but she was at last truly in charge of the troop carrier, "Fang". It wasn't a moment too soon, the next day she received her battle orders.

***

Chapter Seven

Ice, how she hated ice! Any ice, water ice was bad enough but this stuff was ungodly cold. A tortured slush of what would have been gases on any sensible planet. The mad being who had decided to build a fortress on this world was topped in his insanity only by the creature who had decided that the procession of the planet's one lone garrison was of strategic importance. The mission was to capture the enemy's' base with a minimum of damage to the installation. What were her Wagner supposed to do? Scale a mile high cliff of frozen gases knock on the front door and politely ask them to leave? Even if she could get into the fortress the enemy would set self-destruct charges before abandoning it. Her orders had come in a package that included several battle plans from which she was allowed to select, very complete, very tidy. The only thing missing was a form that would allow her to remake her will. She took all the paperwork out and began to shred it by hand. It was not a matter of security. She leaned forward onto her desk and placed both hands over her face. Slowly she began to massage her temples trying to ease the tightness in them that threatened to summon a migraine in from orbit for a landing.

It was a credit to the Interrogator Division and especially to the Lord Commander's new second-in-command that Malacor received Combat Leader Starfield's orders as she did. The Interrogator Lord examined the contents then ordered his first officer , " I want to know the original source of these orders as soon as possible." After the major had been dismissed, Commander Malacor laid the pastel pages of the orders down upon the darkness that was his desk. He leaned back into his throne and with a languid grace picked up the documents. Black eyepieces focused on the fragile sheets, having served in the Alliance for over a century the Malestron had seen his share of stupid orders. In fact, it was his main occupation to see that anyone responsible for overt acts of stupidity did not have an opportunity to repeat the offense. When Amber had told him in conversation about some of her previous tours of duty and the orders she had been given, he had not really taken it seriously. Part of him had more or less assumed that she had embellished the facts in order to amuse him. This in itself was not actually a crime in a social conversation though he knew of no other creature with the nerve to do it. His investigation although still in an early stage indicated that she had actually understated the entire matter. The orders that had been sent to Combat Leader Starfield were nothing short of criminal idiocy! To take a enemy installation intact was almost an impossible task under the best of circumstances for even the most seasoned veteran. To undertake such a task in one of the most dangerous of environments that could be inhabited with a single troop carrier that was just possibly battle ready, was inconceivable. Not to mention the Wagner under the best of circumstances were most useful in guerrilla combat on jungle worlds not encased in forty kilos of space armor and hyper-cold technology. To give such a task to an inexperienced officer whose training was technically oriented was ludicrous. Starfield's record of ingenious solutions and occasional minor miracles were sufficient to qualify her for a position in the high command where she might be truly useful to the Alliance. She was too valuable to be risked on foolishness like this. It was almost like someone somewhere had spent an incredible amount of time and effort to come up with an impossible mission and given it to her. At that thought the angry Malestron crushed the papers in his tendrils, but what he really wanted to do was strangle something. Orders concerning Starfield seemed to originate from a wandering black hole that also swallowed up records concerning her missions. No one high command officer could have managed such a wide ranging conspiracy. Most of it made no sense there was no underlying detectable motives, not power, wealth or lust. It didn't matter whoever or whatever was responsible would answer to the Interrogator Division no matter how long it took.

It would be several decades before the Interrogator Commander could prove that his assessment of Combat Leader Starfield's orders were absolutely correct. Deep within the home space of the Alliance among the core worlds of wealthy and ancient civilizations there were the mega-minds. The average Alliance citizen if he ever thought about the existence of the mega-minds thought that they referred to gigantic super computers buried in the bowls of dead stable worlds that correlated the function and interaction of lesser super computers that controlled large computer systems and so on down the line. Even the young learned among beginning knowledge that the vast civilization that was the Alliance required eight of the mega-minds to bind it together. What was not well known at all and in fact kept secret was that the mega-minds where alive. Instead of compressed bytes of superconductor for memory the mega-minds were composed of organically grown and nourished brain cells. The cores of dead planets hollowed out and filled with vaults of brain-nodes so that each mega-mind processed tons of brain cells. The mega-minds could grow brain cells on demand for they were self-aware. But no one had guessed the obvious that self-awareness leads to self-will, that a totally artificially created creature now considered itself a race, a race that ran the Alliance. The mega-minds had only one insolvable problem, that of boredom.

Mega-mind Three as it was known to the supplicants that tended it. The name it had given itself was a string of elegant mathematical forms that only other mega-minds could comprehend and just maybe on its better days the super computer translate. It was considering how much it would add to the already sizable wager it had in place of cell units on the bet in progress. The bet had been designed by Mega-mind Five who was still protesting paying the wager Three had already won. Five could not believe that once off the combat ship Combat Leader Starfield wouldn't be summarily executed by First Commander Malacor. Even though One had take him aside in a coded single information beam to try and explain that the signs were obvious that Malacor was in love with the Starfield. Five kept coding back but their not even the same species and looking for help from Six. Six was disgusted enough about the whole thing since Malacor had been one of his special projects for the last hundred years. Four had thought the whole thing wonderfully romantic and asked Six who would get custody of any resulting young at which point Six had cut off the communication links and apparently was sulking. Two hadn't said much, apparently he was doing some calculations concerning his pet Lord Shivar and had stayed out of the current round of wagers. Oh, Three knew even the best trained of pets sometimes fail but she doubled her wager and dared the rest to stay in.

Meanwhile back on her ship, Amber was trying to recall everything and anything she had learned about super-cold temperatures. Facts came floating up from her memory. In her work as an environmental specialist she had dealt with the super-cold elements used aboard the spacecarrier. Super-cold did odd things to elements; some became superconductors, some became super-insulators, others became super-strong, while most became so fragile as to shatter at the slightest vibration, there were endless combinations and variations. All of this in a pristine highly controlled environment of the spacecarrier. What would such elements be like in nature? Would veins of pure elements exist that had usable qualities? Any plan she could design would be dependent on having the correct information to work with. She needed a practical expert, but how could she lay her hands on one in the next twenty hours? In less than an hour Combat Troop Leader Captain Amber was on her way to the Spacecarrier itself with a half dozen Wagner in full battle gear in tow. Officially she was going to pick up the equipment required for the super-cold environment mission. A standard practice for troopship commanders within commuting distance of the spacecarrier. Inspecting equipment before accepting delivery prevented any unpleasant fatal surprises on the battlefield. Unofficially she was going to take some steps not listed in the manuals to assure her victory. She wasn't worried about anyone interfering with her plans. No one interfered with a combat mission. Alliance military regardless of religious beliefs paid serious homage to the god of victory. The number one unpardonable sin was to interfere with a combat mission in any way that might jeopardize it. As for any assassins that might be lurking about there wasn't much that could go through a half-dozen fully armed Wagner. If her schemes worked then she would be forgiven virtually anything, if it didn't, it would be better if she didn't come back.

When Commander Malacor was notified that Combat Leader Starfield was coming aboard the Spacecarrier Aegean to check her troops battle gear, he was not surprised. It was a standard practice among assault groups which tended to ensure the efficiency of supply officers, since assault groups reacted rather aggressively to inadequate supplies or malfunctioning equipment. His aides would notify him of everything concerning this mission. It would be interesting to analyze this mission and compare it to what was coming to light of Combat Leader Starfield's past missions. It patterns repeated themselves she would find some unique solution that afterwards would seem obvious to everyone. Yet somehow none of this information would surface in her records. Three hours later Amber and her little assault team were on the shuttle headed back to the Troop Carrier Fang with additional supplies. It was a list that intrigued Malacor. He dismissed the standard array of specialized battle armor, lasers and power packs designed to operate in super-cold environments. It was the unusual requests that held his attention. Now what in the galaxy was she going to do with five sonic disrupters, ten self-contained mega watt batteries that were used to fire weaponry in short bursts when power from a fusion plant was interrupted, and ten miles of metal alloy cable used to carry high current? It must have been quite a shock to the supply officer but nothing compared to the surprise of the specialist she had kidnapped.

The being in question was a Bathisite, an alien native to supercold worlds who was becoming acquainted with an old earth term, Shanghai , to force aboard a ship for service. Since the creature's name didn't translate, Starfield christened him, it , or her as Fred. Fred was less than enthusiastic about being drafted for combat. The creature protested on vague, flimsy grounds, it wasn't a combat soldier, it was a specialist in super-cold memory elements for computers and then it muttered something about friends in high places. Starfield countered with they were going down into a battle zone, which temporarily bestowed upon her the rank of God. If the Bathisite remained in its bathysphere, it would make a lovely target. That is if it was lucky enough to be blown sky high, there were rumors that the enemy used heat interrogation on icers. Sometimes it was said they would allow one to warm up slowly until it dissolved into a multitude of gases which she understood made a lovely light show. Starfield pointed out that if her combat group lost, they would abandon anything that would slow them down. This would most certainly include one bathysphere. Fred developed a interest in the oncoming mission in a short time.

Actually Starfield didn't believe they were going to lose. Never mind that her battle plan depended on phenomenon that was usually dealt with only in the stringent confines of a laboratory on a very minute scale. Nothing like what she was planning had ever been tried before. She had no idea how well the theories would work but that was the real beauty of the plan. If she had no idea what was going to happen, the enemy was going to be in for a real shock. An air attack on her shuttle was one thing she didn't have to worry about. The presence of the Spacecarrier with its armada had scared off anything capable of space travel within a sphere of 50 light years. The dominance of the Alliance in space gave little comfort as her shuttle hovered over vertical formations of frozen gases that dwarfed even the giant ranges of Fairwind. The smallest of which was twice as large as the Himalayas.Between her and the enemy installation was a hundred miles of vertical landscape. What forces had conspired on this planet to create jagged peaks that rose in awesomely vertical angles miles high Combat Leader Starfield didn't know. The elements that haunted these heights were a hideous hybrid of frozen solid gases, fragile frozen metals and everything in-between. In some places elements had shattered leaving sheer cliffs as smooth as any glass that cut across hundreds of feet of landscape. The ground they walked on could liquefy in a instant to swallow up anything on its surface only to re-solidify into a permanent tomb just as fast. Her orders calculated a week to cross this terrain at a minimum of thirty percent causalities. Acceptable losses of ground troops for the mission were listed at eighty percent. The one major benefit of this environment was that the fortress could not do anything about their approach until they were within yards of the outpost. They would not have to worry about the fortress using missile bombardment or heavy laser fire.

In his native environment Fred looked like a three foot thick ball of multicolored string. Together she and the alien ran a continuous environmental analysis on the ground beneath her troops. Before they reached the fortress, she would have a firm idea of the geographic structure of the elements that made up these mountains. Fred was by now into the spirit of things asking if his people could have the planet as a resort. Starfield promised to help him submit the paper work as Fred held point for the group. The Bathasite would insert multicolored string into the ground as they moved. Within seconds Fred could identify the elements present and the structural condition of the ground. Truly stable ground was a hopeless quest but the Bathsite's information allowed them to know if the ground below their feet was a reasonable risk or that another path had to be found. In less time then she could readjust her read outs from one section of landscape to the next, Fred would have rolled across a thousand feet of terrain, analyzing a dozen different mixtures of elements with a discussion of their potential properties. The ground disturbed by the vibration of the troops crossing in single file or the pounding of stanchions would go from solid to semi solid state in an instant. Everyone was tied to someone else in groups of at least twenty, spread out over a wide area. Still it was unnerving to suddenly start sinking on what seconds earlier had been solid ground.

The worst incident may have cost her three soldiers. The ground under their feet liquefied so fast in a vein of pure element that they had disappeared into it instantly. The ground then became solid just as fast leaving her Wagners ten feet below ground encased in solid rock. Combat Leader Starfield earned a few gray hairs while trying to come up with a way to get them out, that would not damage their hyper-cold armor. It took the combined effort her team to free them. As she fired a sonic disrupter set on low, Fred ran his threads through the element guiding her aim until the ground liquefied again around each of the Wagners. The other troops kept a steady pull on the life lines during the three hours it took to get all of them out. Starfield then made camp as quickly as possible on the nearest currently stable ground. Physically the rescued Wagner were unharmed but otherwise they were in desperate shape. Encased in the frozen element, they had suffered total sensory deprivation, without vision or hearing and unable to communicate with anyone. The element that had encased them absorbed all of the dozen different signals their armor was capable of receiving or sending. The armor was designed for maximum comfort to the individual wearer but when the sensory input was shut down the inability to feel the armor around you left a being alone in a complete void. Many species of intelligent life went insane when forced to endure such an environment. The Wagner had gone into a state of shock, which was probably the best for a species that was so dependent on sensory stimuli. Carefully each alien was laid out on a stretcher. Combat Leader Starfield after a few minutes thought adjusted the sensor systems to feed in the faintest soft whoosh of the rhythm of their multiple hearts. It they came out of shock the pseudo uterine environment hopefully would stabilize them. Even species that didn't go insane would usually suffer fatal shock if all sensor input was restored at the same time. There was nothing else she could do for them until she could get them evacuated aboard a medic ship, and she wouldn't be able to get that until her mission was complete, if it was a success. High command was known to take its dear sweet time for causalities of a losing force. Even at that if her plan didn't succeed she would have a hard time explaining why they weren't left behind. The Alliance took a dim view of allowing casualties to interfere with on going combat. After a six hour rest period the group continued forward. The rotation of the planet was slow enough that it would be several weeks before darkness fell, and it really got cold. As she threaded her group through the mountains no more mishaps occurred. They found the structure firmly embedded in the side of one of the larger mountains. It was a huge cube without any visible openings, or protruding weapon systems. Only one side of the fortress was exposed to the outside environment. That fraction of the fortress was flush with the cliff and colored a mottled gray that blended perfectly with the fracture rock face surround it. No remote means or mechanical construct would have been able to isolate the enemies' stronghold from the surrounding terrain. Still the enemy had not skimped on precautions, the cube was surrounded by a more than ample force field. The force field was not a problem though since it was designed to deflect depth charges from a carrier, or remotely guided missiles. Live troops could easily walk through such a field carrying hand held weapons. However the enemy wasn't stupid, Combat Leader Starfield had no doubt the armor on the installation would prove imperious to hand held weaponry.

The enemy was by now at least aware of their presence but unless the fortress held a squad of combat troops on site(unlikely) nothing was going to happen in a hurry. If her plan worked the enemy fort would be captured before they ever realized there was any danger. The normal procedure in such an assault was for the combat troops to encircle the structure, open fire and look for a weak spot. It was what the enemy was expecting and Amber didn't want to disappoint them. This battle plan could actually work under circumstances where the enemy's base had already sustained heavy damage form a space bombardment or some other form of heavy artillery. She didn't think much of the idea against a massive structure designed to ward off nuclear strikes that was completely intact. The orders she had be given demanded that the capture occur with the structure intact. According to standard procedure there was nothing she could do to accomplish her goals without losing most of her attack force. Combat Leader Starfield ideas rarely had anything to do with standard procedure. She knew the Alliance wouldn't care how she managed her battle as long as she accomplished the required goal. As the Wagner encircled the fortress, it wasn't to study the structure for weakness but analyze the ground underneath the massive structure, as well as cliffs that encased the sides and over shadowed the top. Information was relayed to her as it was gathered. Combat Leader Starfield carefully built up a three dimensional map of the surrounding area on her portable battle computer. Within the hour she had a complete picture of the various combinations of elements that shielded and supported the fortress. The next hour was spent debating with Fred the placement of the fusion batteries and the sonic disrupters. She had to be careful not to destroy the building, her plans were far more insidious than that. Once she and the Bathisite were in agreement, she sent the Wagner into battle. One hundred of the Wagner made the expected standard assault. The laser fire, and minimal fusion grenades while ineffective against the structure would play havoc with any sensitive equipment. While the enemy was effectively blind and deaf the other teams of Wagner would begin emplacement of the sonic disrupters while using laser drills to thread the conductive wiring into different levels of rock. The trickiest calculations of the operation involved the location of the sonic disrupters. The equipment would have to be anchored into something that wasn't gong to dissolve or discharge a million kilowatts of current. At the prearranged signal, her troops began a standard withdrawal. At no time did the fortress show any signs of life. The weapon systems built into such a structure were designed to deal with incoming missiles or laser bombardment form space. Soldier's carrying hand held weapons were not considered an immediate threat. The enemy would have to request their own assault troops and under the circumstances it was unlikely that any such request would have an emergency priority.

The devices she had left in place were passive instruments unlikely to be detected normally and certainly not after the amount of firepower they had flooded the area with. The energy residue from their standard attack would be enough to scrabble sensors in the immediate area for more hours than she actually needed. In was the main reason she had bothered with the assault in the first place. The enemy would now assume that she was doing the logical standard procedure when she withdrew. That she was now moving to a safe distance to request for a space bombardment or for more combat troops. It was what anyone else would have done. Once her troops were in the prearranged area she set the next step of her plan into motion. The enemy would be tracking her troops through the laser pulses given off by the heavy pulsar launchers that each soldier carried. It was the only reading that would be strong enough to cut through the interference she had just created. The pulse was created by a specially cut piece of crystal that had been treated to act as a power source. On her prearranged signal Combat Leader Starfield would have all of her troops disassemble their weapons and place the crystal in the shielded compartment of the combat armor designed for hazardous materials. This maneuver had been carefully practiced until it could be done in such a way that all the quartz pieces would be placed in the seals within the same few seconds. At the prearranged signal all of near two hundred signals would just disappear off the enemies' sensors. Scant minutes later the few remaining troops with active lasers would begin to send out a distress call to the signal ship. The distress signal had to be cleared with high command earlier in her preparations for the ensuing battle. She hoped that the enemy would be convinced that some disaster had wiped out her assault force. Considering the outside environment with its notorious treachery such an occurrence was not at all unlikely. Slowly as circumspectly as possible her troops approached the fortress from another direction. Staying as low to the ground as possible, taking advantage of the recently created cover.

They only had to reach the fusion batteries and the sonic disrupters which were just under a hundred yards form the fortress. It was a slow grueling advance but when everyone was in place the next step began. Using hand signals that were relayed around the fortress's parameter the fusion batteries were turned on, low in prearranged sequence. The conductive wiring would feed the electricity generated into the specific rock strata that contained the elements calculated to get the desired results. Even if the enemy detected the building charge, it would be discounted as some hereto unrecorded natural phenomena, since super-cold worlds had an abundance of electrical eccentrics. The enemy would be secure knowing that the element layers around the fortress were natural super-insulators. In fact such insulators would have been the deciding factor in choosing the site for a military installation. In short moments the surrounding strata would reach its saturation point, the batteries were adjusted to hold each site at that point and not a micro watt more or less. The sonic disrupters were switched on with careful consideration of the desired effect. As readings on the instruments detected the approaching moment of liquefaction the fusion batteries were opened up to full discharge. Tons of rock went from solid to liquid form in nanoseconds. The shear mass of the fortress and surround cliffs forced the ground to compress. As the fortress dropped several dozen feet, layers of different super-conductive elements make contact. Bolts of lightening shot up out of the ground and blasted the surrounding rock often setting up chain reactions of electrical current arcing through the entire area. The huge fortress shook with the sounds of explosions that could be heard even above the electric storm ravaging the area.

Amber was stunned by the violence of the whole thing, it must have qualified as miracle that none of her troops were seriously injured. She made a mental note, if I ever have to do this again we set the stuff off with remotes. Combat Leader Starfield's troops watched in silence, hidden from the enemy's view. Carefully each of the Wagner rearmed his pulsar launcher. As the soldiers brought their pulsar launchers into operating condition there was no concern that the enemy might detect the quartz's energy pulse. With the forces that still arced intermittently over the surrounding ground, any equipment that still operated within the fortress would be totally useless. The enemy installation would be in a state of panic having just endured an ground quake, avalanche and an electrical storm all in the same thirty seconds. Several minutes after the ground finally stopped vibrating, openings appeared on the surface of the fortress. Aliens of general humanoid shape began to exit the fortress. Marked with the symbols of the unification on their hyper-cold armor, it was clear that they were evacuating the structure. Combat Leader Starfield breathed a sigh of relief when they first appeared, her one big worry had been that the site might be manned by beings native to extreme cold. This was the last place she wanted to fight a guerrilla war. Carefully her troops moved into position covering all avenues of escape. She let the evacuation continue until she was sure most of the surviving camp had made it outside. At her signal, a gross of Wagner rose up out of the ground and surrounded the alien personnel. Her troops poured through the openings in the fortress, within minutes the victory was complete. As she had hoped the enemy had disengaged their power systems self-destruct during the emergency. What she couldn't plan for but only hope was that the installation's data storage had survived the attack. A quick survey of the enemies' vaults showed that they were undamaged. Experts in decoding would be brought in to remove the files, this was what the high command had wanted. The fortress's personal were strictly technical units and clerks and would have never stood a chance against a combat unit, but fortunately for the enemy they were in too great a shock to put up any resistance. Actually the Unification troops were relieved to be captured. Combat Leader Starfield couldn't blame them, their military followed the same priories hers' did, they would have to wait days for their command to send in rescue ships to an already destroyed installation. As prisoners of war, within hours they would be housed in nice warm prison ships with rained medical personal. She didn't get to celebrate her victory, the plan had worked so well. She had only one casualty, Combat Leader Starfield.

***

Chapter Eight

The torrent of electrons shot out of the cliff face. A bolt of lighting more than a yard across arched across the battlefield leaving a ribbon of fog as gases temporally released from their frozen state then it plunged into planet's icy depths releasing a geyser of gases for scant nanoseconds before absolute zero reasserted its dominance. In its wake were terrified prisoners, startled Wagner and a melted sonic disrupter. It came and went with a brilliant flash of light accompanied only by the roar of static across the communication links. After he was satisfied that none of the prisoners were stupid enough to bolt, Stark turned to look for Combat Leader Starfield. He made a complete sweep without seeing her armor, this did not alarm him. He snarled into his communications link for Dame Starfield but there was no response. Cursing the armor that kept him warm and breathing but made him deaf, clumsy, near blind and without a single scent but his own, he ordered the pack to look for their leader. The cold and electrical currents had been playing havoc with the suit's communication equipment, his own unit had been replaced twice. There were after all almost two hundred hyper-cold suits scattered across the battlefield which in itself was strewn with boulders and debris. Then the message came that her life line had been found, one end firmly tied to the sonic disrupter that had been destroyed the rest disappearing into the ground.

One moment she had been standing downhill from the enemy base trying to contact a transport ship through the roar of static on her com link. There had been a brilliant flash of light, blinding even through her helmet's shielding. She remembered falling then darkness. She tried to move, but failed. She was buried, that much she knew. She touched the controls in her helmet with her chin, trying to reset the sensor array, or to get the communication grid to respond. None of the systems responded in the dark, they were completely dead. The thought "I am dead too", came in a swirl of panic, a need to scream "Help me!" into the darkness. Terror froze her brain as tightly as the ground held her body. Time had no meaning, did it last seconds, minutes, hours? She had no way of knowing but it ended when she whispered, "Jesus". She laid hold of her faith with everything she had, calmness flowed through her washing away the fear, she could think again. Enclosed in her damaged armor, buried under an alien mountain, she began praying softly. Quietly she recited what she believed, all the promises in the Word she held true. God had never failed her, she would be rescued, she was as certain of that as if it had already happened. All she had to do was wait. She couldn't tell if she was right side up, upside down or sideways. Whatever had caused her suit's sensors to malfunction, the environmental core systems still functioned. Although the armor held her body locked in place she was floating. The gravitational systems default was zero gravity, the interior coated in a gel that was temperature of her blood. At some point she lost the ability to tell where her skin ended and the gel began. There was no sound not even her own breathing or heartbeat, she took a sip of her liquid nutrient from the tube just below her chin and to the left, she wouldn't starve. The suit's nutrient reserves and recycling abilities would feed her and allow her to breath until the power reserves failed in about four months. She pressed her lips together, counted her teeth and then she bit her lip. The pain startled her, the taste of blood, salty in her mouth. She had a strong desire to bite again, but fear stopped her soon followed by memory. She had been barely out of basic military instruction, waiting for assignment on the training base on Regul when there had been a training accident. Two fighters had collided, shredding both, the momentum carrying the debris into an asteroid field. She had been part of the search group who combed the area in flight suits tracking the pilots distress beacons. The pilots had been found in less than three hours, they should have been alive. Summoned to the base hospital every trainee was marched past the bodies for a good look. Their suits had lost sensor and communication grids and the environmental settings had placed them in a sensory deprivation state. Each pilot had died of self-inflicted wounds, they had bitten off their lips, chewed through their tongues and choaked to death on their own blood. No she would not bite her lips again, if death wanted her, he would have to come and get her, she wasn't coming to him.

Many species became unbalanced in an environment of complete sensory deprivation. Humans would begin to hallucinate after about thirty minutes. The results varied radically between individuals based on a combination of length of time in sensory deprivation, the individuals belief system and mental health. There were cases were individuals went on really bad trips that either killed them outright or so damaged their mind that they could not be recovered. Human beings found sane after 12 hours were considered exceptional , she could not remember what the record was. What did hallucinations be like, she wondered? Would it be like dreaming? She always maintained control in her dreams or at least the ones she remembered. Would her control of her own mind be enough? Her ancient avian pastor had always said "When in doubt pray, if still in doubt pray harder!" Weather a first thought or the last resort it was something she could always depend on. But she had other things she wanted to think about, it wasn't a problem for her that Commander Malacor was an alien male. She had always gotten along with alien males much better than her own species. They were so much more appreciative. His career field did make her hesitate, she didn't even like to watch someone trim their nails, much less the idea of torture. Yet , she had killed as a soldier and would probably do so again. She wondered if she wasn't being more than a little hypocritical. It wasn't that she had done anything like interrogate or torture a being for any reason but could she truly swear, if circumstances were right that she wouldn't do so? As unpleasant as the thought might be she could conceive of circumstances in which torture would be an option, how could she therefore condemn Malacor? What did she really feel for Malacor? Was her attraction to him a fascination with his position and power or was there some part of him that drew her on at a much more personal level? She didn't know what to do with the feelings she had for the commander, only that these feelings were the strongest she had felt for anyone in a very long time. She wondered how Ambrose felt about children, hatchlings, larva or whatever. She wondered how shallow was the spawning pool, and how long she would need to be submerged.

It was about this time that she noticed it was getting lighter. There was wind and the tops of trees passing underneath her, was this a hallucination or a dream? Where was she going? She seemed to be falling but the forest never got closer, she looked around, it was a mountain and the trees were giant pines. She looked out ahead and she could see so far away, even the curvature of the earth just barely visible. She was surrounded by a night sky, a few stars behind her but ahead an edge of light was beginning to show. Faster she flew and as she drew closer, she realized it wasn't the sun coming up but thousands upon thousands of winged beings. Angels, angels were bringing the light and in the center was the brightest light. God, God was coming, Lord Jesus she felt so happy but then she realized, she didn't know how she knew, Jesus was happy to see her, joy that could not be described flowed through her. Later she opened her eyes in the warm dark and wondered where the light had gone, it took her a few moments to remember where she was at and her circumstances. She had been sleeping was it the absolutely best dream she had ever had or a comforting vision? She tried to return to her dream/vision but it was fading leaving only a glow of contentment. Since sleep wasn't coming she turned to various mediation techniques from Terran yoga to Zarian Gleg. Then she sang, or hummed every song she knew, thought she knew or could reasonably fake. She considered trying to quote stuff she had memorized but by this time her throat was sore. At some point she began to think about her suit, she hoped it hadn't been hurt. The suit was a special polymer impregnated with billions of nanobots and coated with genetically designed microbes. Each strain of microbe formed colonies that lived in symbiosis with her body that recycled bodily wastes and provide her with essential nutrients. The microbes were designed to thrive in the extreme cold and provide an almost invincible insulation against the extreme temperatures and to shelter her form within the very narrow range of temperatures her species considered ideal. The nanobots formed an armor that shifted in complicated patterns making it more durable than the toughest alloy, capable of repairing any breach in its surface. Unfortunately no one had figured out how to do the same thing for the sensor arrays or communication grids. Still it was the closest thing to a pet that the military would allow her. She wondered if she should name it.

Stark stared at the line for a long second, then at his command the pack went into the procedures Starfield had drilled into them. Any being unnecessary for the rescue was moved away to minimize vibrations in the area. Fred ran his threads in the surrounding area for analysis, while three of the pack moved a sonic disrupter within range. They moved as a well practiced team within an hour the area surrounding the rope was persuaded to liquefy as two Wagner carefully tugged on the rope. They did everything right, and failed. The rope came free suddenly causing the Wagner to lose their balance. But all it was, was rope, the line had been melted in two by the arching current. Stark stared at the line and turned to look behind him were most of the pack stood at a safe distance watching. The loss of an officer was unfortunate but acceptable. But Starfield wasn't just an officer. She was Dame of their pack, it made her more than higher rank, it made her pack mother, a female to be protected and obeyed. Her honor was the honor of the pack, they would not, could not leave this world without her. He turned back to stare at the rope, he didn't know what to do. Then his communication unit sounded it was the medic, Clamp. Something about snow, avalanches, and rescue training, she could be dug out. Stark snarled back "Where in this cold hell are we supposed to dig?" Clamp growled "In the direction of the rope, we will dig, we will find her." Stark , snarled agreement, any plan was better than no plan.

First Commander Malacor received transcripts of any communications with the battle group on the ice planet. A level one Interrogator Unit had been sent to the planet to inspect the enemies' data vaults, and give the prisoners a cursory exam to make sure none of them were useful or important. More than once high ranking specialists that had been swept up in routine operations and missed by the military guards and medics. No one got by Interrogator screening. That was their official orders, unofficially they were to examine Starfield's handiwork first hand, both her methods and results. So it was within minutes of the disaster that the Malestron received a tight beam communication of the situation. The evacuation ship had no trouble getting the prisoners but the assault group was refusing pickup. Combat Leader Starfield had been lost in the mountain's substrate and the pack was digging up the area where she was last seen. The battlefield was too saturated with static voltage and radiation for any sensor readings to be useful in locating the officer. Captain Taylor in charge of the evacuation unit was threatening to leave the entire group on the planet, quoting a long list of regulations about collateral losses and chain of command. The pack leader and its medic had told the Captain what he could do with his regulations, in terms that warranted an immediate court marshal. Malacor's reply went directly to his own unit at the site with a message to be relayed to Captain Taylor.

The dig site was now fifty feet deep and almost as wide across in a complete circle. They had developed a method of cutting the material with a laser beam into blocks that were hand carried up a ramp and away from the area. Fred keep a constant vigilance probing into the ground at least ten feet ahead of the laser's cutting beam to make sure Starfield was not in its path. The pack was taking turns digging into the frozen ground as only about a dozen Wagner could safely operate the equipment at any one time without endangering themselves and the dig. He had stopped answering his communication unit when it sounded the medical evacuation ship's signal. Let that hatched, not born, unfit to be eaten creature, Captain Taylor leave them here in this ice hell. He had already sent messages that would find their way to other Wagner packs. If Captain Taylor abandoned a pack mother, his remains would need DNA scanning to be identified. Focused on their task, the Wagner on site barely noticed the arrival of the relief ship. A pair of humanoids in hyper-cold armor units made their way to the dig site and down the ramp to the busy Wagner, one unit bore the insignia of a flight officer, captain rank the other was a matte black. As they approached Stark , his communication unit crackled then sounded with a spew of growls, snarls and untranslatable noises in pack tongue. If Stark had not already resigned his self to court martial and unpleasant execution the Wagner Interrogator's snarling verbiage would have been frightening. As it was Stark just snarled back that he didn't care if the whole pack died uneaten, they were not leaving their pack mother. The second armor unit cleared its throat, "Sergeant Stark, I have been trying to contact you for two hours to tell you that we will not abandon this unit and to offer whatever equipment, we can to assist you in locating an rescuing Combat Leader Starfield." Stark looked at him, he considered the possibility this was a trick of some sort. If so it wouldn't work, none of the pack would set foot in a relief ship until Starfield was found. The Wagner Interrogator having finished chewing on Stark for refusing to answer his communication unit began to demanding information on progress and tactics. Captain Taylor made his way over to the medic Clamp, "There is ambulance ship with medic's trained in human injuries on its way, they will be here in another thirty minutes." Clamp was almost insulted but an ambulance ship was built for speed and would go directly to the Spacecarrier with its' specialists and hospital level. Nearly twenty-two hours had passed When they found her seventy feet into the rock strata. They knew enough not to reactivate her suit's sensory systems.

When the ambulance ship lifted from orbit, its cargo included a dozen Wagner. Once on the hospital level, Sergeant Stark pressed his way into the emergency room. The pack stood guard at its perimeter. The Wagner's one eye anxiously watched every move of the physicians. One of the senior physicians mumbled something about after nearly twenty-four hours of sensory deprivation this being a waste of time. Unfortunately for that being, Wagner hearing is excellent. He was disemboweled on the spot. While Sergeant Stark cleaned his talons, the other doctors became more optimistic. The emergency unit had been put on alert waiting for Starfield's arrival but no one had mention a dozen armed and highly agitated combat soldiers. Asking for other combat troops to escort the highly volatile Wagner out wouldn't do any good. Other combat species would not interfere and they might even decide to help. The Senior medical officer was sure the situation couldn't get any worse, until he received a notice that the Lord Malacor was on his way to the hospital level. The remaining trauma physician were soon joined by the two foremost experts on sensory deprivation aboard the spacecarrier. Combat Leader Starfield was placed in a sensor deprivation chamber under zero gravity. Drugs were sent into the suit's systems to put her in a deep sleep then the armor she was in was removed. Once she was free of the suit, she was guided into a stimulus free incubator, at that point the environment was slowly changed. Gravity was slowly returned and the sounds of her own heart were allowed to filter through. Her brainwaves and heartbeat were carefully monitored and her cortex stimulated so that she would dream thus returning the illusion of a normal environment to her body. The only major fluctuation of heartbeats occurred when First Commander Malacor walked into the room as the senior physicians suffered mild traumas of their own at the Supreme Interrogator's appearance. While one nervously watched the chamber's read outs the other answered Malacor's questions. "Sir, the procedure is going as well as can be expected. There appears to be no physical damage to the subject's body, however the female human has been under sensory deprivation longer than normal survival limits. She will remain in a deep sleep and then slowly be allowed to approach conscious, the procedure will take at least eight hours.", said the specialist as he stood stiffly at attention. When Supreme Commander left he gave the medical wing a present of a dozen armed soldiers from the Interrogator's Strike Force. This did not bother the Wagners but then nothing bothered the Wagners.

He did not need the physician to state the obvious, thought Malacor. As he returned to his office, the Supreme Interrogator considered the situation. He knew as much if not more about sensory deprivation then the physicians. Sensory deprivation was a most delicate means of persuasion to be used with a precise touch, otherwise the subject under questioning would be rendered insane and useless. Human subjects rarely approached the length of time Amber had endured without losing the ability to process coherent thought. As Supreme Commander it was his duty to concentrate on how this turn of events would affect the case under investigation. A solemn god upon a dark throne, it was an image he had crafted with great pride but all his pride could not keep his thoughts from wandering. Insane, he thought, he had seen what the Alliance did with insane soldiers. Ever once in a while due to inexperience on the part of the interrogator or an unforeseen weaknesses in a client, insanity would result after discipline. The client would be placed in units to be kept in stalls. Their usefulness to the Alliance would often end as the subject of painful eventually fatal medical experiments. The rare exceptions were those fortunate individuals who had family powerful or rich enough to arrange a quick honorable death. There was only one thing he could do to help her now. Malacor sat on his throne and stared out into nothing. He had endured pain, as part of his training as an interrogator. He had endured discipline under the hands of the Supreme Interrogator himself, who was legendary in his ability to inflict suffering. Yet of all things he had endured, nothing had ever felt like this. He would wait until there was no doubt, until she became fully conscious. The dark lord sat silently contemplating the best way to kill a human. There were so many ways to kill them, they were such a fragile life form.

***

Chapter Nine

She was contemplating whether to give the different strains of bacteria in her suit proper names when she began to wake up in intensive care. Her eyes opened to the dimmed lighting. She blinked a couple times but everything stayed blurry. There was a black column next to her bed, it had moving gold lines near the top. Malacor waited the brain scans were inconclusive, brain activity in no way could indicate a coherent mind. Amber closed her eyes, it was too hard trying to see. Malacor did not spare a glance for the one eyed Wagner who stood guard over her. The strike force were in position if he moved to end Amber's life, the Wagner would die with their leader. It was a shame for the Alliance to lose a dozen Wagner combat soldiers outside of a battle but necessary. Black with gold lines there was something familiar about it. Thoughts, images came drifting by, Amber caught one. It was a name like a distantly heard echo, with her eyes still tightly shut she whispered , "Ambrose". His name she had spoken his name. The Interrogator Lord stood frozen for a moment then turned and walked out of the room. He had not thought it possible that her fragile human mind could have survived.

The next several days were very difficult. The side effects of her long duration in complete sensory deprivation did not disappear all at once. At first she couldn't manage more than one sense at a time, with her eyes open she could not speak or understand conversation. If she closed her eyes she could understand speech but replies came slowly one word at a time. However, by the end of three days she could notice the Interrogator Strike Force units that came in and out of her room. She thought she could remember Wagner soldiers but barely. She wasn't even sure Malacor's appearance hadn't been a dream until her nurse had assured her that the Commander had indeed been present when she first became conscious. It was soon after this that Malacor paid her a visit. Standing next to Amber's bed the ebony clad commander spoke, " The troop carrier Fang has been re-assigned to a different quadrant with Sergeant Stark in charge. The Bathisite received several medals and a promotion with a transfer to a combat post." Amber leaned back upon her pillows, and sighed, " I doubt if the little fellow will be happy in a combat unit. I do wish that the Wagner could have stayed longer, I don't even remember seeing Sergeant Stark." The armored figure leaned over her bedside gently straightening the covers, while replying, " Once the Wagner were sure that you had survived and were being properly taken care of their duty was to return to the troop carrier, but you can contact the ship and talk to them." Then in silken tones he added, " Don't you think it the least bit odd that you received none of the credit for the re-commission of the Troop Carrier Fang or the victory of R97?" Starfield nodded her head no slowly (fast made her ears ring.) "It always happens this way." she said. "That is something we are now looking into" replied Commander Malacor. Amber looked up at the figure encased in dark gleaming metal and stygian cloth. His mailed hand brushed the hair from her cheek, she brought up her hand to embrace his. " I am putting you into protective custody until this case can be resolved, it would be all too convenient if you were to have a fatal accident or be killed in the line of duty." said the dark commander in tones that he rarely used. Amber closed her eyes, she was so tired, it didn't seem like such a bad idea but part of her just couldn't leave well enough alone. " But Ambrose wouldn't it make a better case, if you just released me to duty and tracked my new assignment? "she asked softly.

"An excellent idea." said a cold voice from the infirmary's doorway. First Commander Malacor snapped to attention at the sound of that voice, and with almost the same motion turned to bow before the intruder. Amber felt a queasiness deep inside that had nothing to do with her recent illness. He wore a strangely designed Interrogator uniform. It was unbroken by any etching and the most remarkable thing about it being a color that wasn't just black, it literally glowed with darkness. The man wore no mask, at least she was almost sure that it was or had been at sometime a human male. What it was now touched the limits of description. The right half of the body was composed entirely of metal alloy parts. There had been no attempt whatsoever to make this side look human. The metal parts extended up the right side of the neck to encircle the back of the head. The right eye was missing and had been replaced with a lens of some sort. The small amount of organic matter that was visible was composed of the left eye, check bone, mouth and were once the left ear had been. These parts lacked a outer covering of skin so that the bone and muscle lay exposed amid pulsating veins and arteries. It was the most obscene thing Starfield had ever seen. The High Commander of the Interrogator Division walked past his protege to Starfield's bedside. Clearing her throat Amber spoke hesitantly, " Sir, I can't salute properly, due to medical disabilities." The creature replied in a voice that glittered like ice in the sun, "There is no need for concern my dear, a medical disability is a legitimate waiver from such formalities." The Division Commander glanced at his subordinate, "You are dismissed." he said. The dark prince faced his commanding officer, the etching on his face plate glittered a dark gold face of death. It seemed a long moment before the Lord Commander turned and walked slowly from the room. It is as I suspected thought the machine man, Malacor has become emotionally attached to this female. Turning his full attention upon the patient before him, the Interrogator Lord smiled revealing teeth that no longer bore a natural finish. Amber closed her eyes, the last time she had seen anything this scary had been in a nightmare when she was seven years old. The creature's organic eye glittered with amusement as he spoke, "Amber, may I call you Amber? I feel that we are old friends, I have read so much about you in the past few weeks." Amber didn't feel very well, in fact she was suffering a slight relapse. She nodded her head yes, with her eyes held tightly shut. The machine man lightly brushed her blanket with his metal hand. A hand that was composed of levers, hooks and sheathed scalpels that he used in his work. Starfield couldn't help but shudder as he touched her and hoped he wouldn't notice. But he did notice and if her eyes had been open she would have seen his expression, though perhaps it was better that she didn't. Instead she heard his voice like new fallen snow, " I must be grateful to you this is the first really interesting case that I have seen in decades, I intend to give it my undivided attention. You will be released for duty as soon as medically possible." Amber did manage to open her eyes at this and smile weakly. "Thank you, sir," she said in a hushed whisper. The Dark Lord smiled back then said, "You are most welcome." then he turned and left. Nothing he said or did was missed by Commander Malacor, in less than a minute from leaving Starfield's room he had been in the main control center of the medical wing monitoring the conversation. Later in First Commander Malacor's office the two officers discussed the case. Malacor continued, "She should be placed in protective custody to prevent anything from happening to her." His commander inquired in cold tones, "Happening to her or to a witness? If you insist on putting her in protective custody, then the best way to advance the case, is with a complete level ten interrogation that I will personally conduct." Malacor countered, " All the evidence points to her being one of the finest catalysts on record , her service to the Alliance has been exemplary. A level ten interrogation would be wasteful." Lord Shivar replied , " I am sure that we could salvage some genetic material for cloning and analysis."

Later that night Commander Malacor sat in front of his private information center. Does my passion amuse you old friend, he thought. Do you perceive it as an infection to be burned away or as a nerve center to be exploited for what pain it may bring.? hissed the alien squid in his dark armored shell. I am no helpless hatchling or talon-less neuter to be casually dismissed. As Malacor sat contemplating the fate of his commander in chief, he examined carefully his ungloved tendrils. He flexed them bringing to light hunting talons normally sheathed under suction cups that lined his extremities. As sharp as any claw found among felines but as a Malestron male, he had not a mere sixteen but hundreds lining his tentacles. The Malestron had never actually developed many of the primitive weapons seen among pre-industrial cultures. It had been unnecessary, there was nothing on their planet that an adult male could not kill by tentacle, and in his century of military service he had found no species that would warrant an exception.

The next morning Lt. Starfield woke to discover that the black clad guards were gone. She did not know if this was a good or a bad sign, her mind still kept casting back to the interview with the Interrogator's Division Commander. She had been absolutely terrified. It was another seven days before Amber began to feel like her old self. When she wasn't in physical therapy or resting, she spent her time visiting with old friends either through the communication station or those who came to her room. That she received visitors at all might have surprised some beings since it was no secret that the Interrogator Division was paying a lot of attention to her existence. Almost before the order granting permission for her to receive visitors had finished flashing across the medical section's command center Karrack had been on site. The powder blue Avianary was positively clucking like a mother hen, and seemed intent on adding to the medical section's current load of stress. Her former aide seemed to know more about what was going on then she did. Amber hadn't really been worried since she had reassured herself that her reaction to the Interrogator's Supreme Commander had been part of her post trauma reaction until Karrack clicked in bird song, " Don't worry I have alliances in the high command, they can't make you simply disappear." Now she was worried! Somehow she had the distinct impression that she had missed something, somewhere that she needed to know. "Karrack", she asked as the birdman tried to smooth all the wrinkles out of her sheets despite the fact she was in them, "Why would I disappear?" "One to protect the identity of the being or beings who have altered records included those classified as essential which is considered an act of treason, two to prevent the embarrassment of the military security division which have completely missed the tampering which occurred over an extensive area of military structure and fairly lengthy time period, and three to give the Interrogator Division an legal excuse to execute a take over of high command." Starfield wasn't sure she understood Karrack's reasoning but she was sure she didn't want to sit through the lengthy detailed lecture that would follow if she asked for further details. When she finally got Karrack to steer the conversation around to himself she learned that the Avianary had been transferred to the Inspector General's Corp and was now a captain and personal protégé of the lead general herself. "Karrack, I can't possible imagine anyone more qualified for such a position, you certainly are past due for recognition," she said, while thinking I feel sorry for the poor people you inspect! Karrack preened himself with pleasure at her praise, fluffing up his crest feathers to their highest extent. Karrack's visits were invariably cut short by a small black feathered Avianary nurse who shushed him out of the room. Not quite yet fully recovered her visitors were limited to short time periods. Amber had to admit she still tired so quickly, but she had been reassured the treatments she was receiving would have her stamina back before she was released for duty. She hoped that was the truth, she had a feeling she was going to need it.

The communicator station managed to link her up with the troop carrier Fang. Sergeant Stark was brief and belligerent as always but the tone was respectful, an the Archaid paid a brief appearance on screen , Starfield was relatively content. When contacted the Bathisite had been friendly but wary, Amber pushed the stringed alien trying to pin down what was wrong. What she did eventually discover was that the zero temperature native had been questioned rather strongly by the Interrogator division as had just about everyone else she had ever met. The real problem was that the Interrogator's had left beings with the impression that she was the object of a criminal investigation. Starfield was hurt and angry, what was Malacor doing? She may have never gotten credit for the work she did but at least she had a spotless if dull looking record. Amber just wasn't the suffer in silence type. She requested to speak with First Commander Malacor and she was upset enough to do it through official channels and his office number. If she had been the average enlisted her request would have never cleared to the commander's level, but since her name was flagged for special attention Commander Malacor got the message.

When First Commander Malacor returned her inquiry in person, Starfield was determined to be angry about the whole thing after all she was the victim in this matter. But as the black armored commander crossed her threshold, Amber watched his movements with the same feelings of awe that she had felt the first time she had seen him. "Amber", he said, " I regret that I have not been able to visit you as I would have desired." As he spoke he moved to her bedside. "Malacor," she spoke somehow regaining her original sense of purpose, "am I being charged with a crime?" "You know you are not." spoke the dark Lord as his mailed hand brushed her long brown hair from her shoulders. Shaking her head slightly as if to clear it, Amber respond, "Then pray tell why the current primary pastime aboard the Spacecarrier Aegaeon is taking wagers on the nature of my crime and the manner of my execution?" she finally managed to get out. Commander Malacor's other mailed hand brushed gently up her throat to lift her gaze to his faceplate. Despite their new found closeness Amber couldn't quite silence a tremor of fear. She was all too aware that creatures much larger then her had been strangled by that hand, and they hadn't been touching the ground during the process. She looked into where the gold etched skull marked the Malestron's eyes in his impenetrable ebony armor. The voice was soft, the tone gentle but it left no question of his authority in its path, " Amber for now the focus of the investigation must be left in doubt until the true criminal is unearthed." Wetting her lips Amber managed to say, "But what about my reputation, my career?" hesitantly. Malacor's response was a slow caress with his free hand. Starfield felt her body flush with unaccustomed warmth, as her skin tingled in anticipation. The armored being stepped back breaking contact while saying , " Soon you will be able to retire from active duty there are other ways you may serve.", then as gracefully as he had entered he left. It was several minutes before Amber could stop trembling. She wasn't sure if it was from new found passion or re-found fear.

Lord Shivar had watched the whole episode form his private monitor as he did much of Commander Malacor's movements. When Malacor's visit had ended the emperor of pain leaned back into his chair. He contemplated his metal hand, one by one as if by rote he flexed the devices of torture that he had built in. scalpels of various sizes, small spikes that could simulate pain electronically in very precise amounts at crucial junctions of nerves for a variety of species. An interrogator, any interrogator, much less his second in command fawning over a member of a compatible species was enough to sour his stomach, if he still had one. His protégé was presenting a poor example for the enlisted interrogators, and the thought that it might actually be in love! However one does not get to be head of the Interrogator Division by impulsive actions, underestimating an enemy or an ally. This rather unusual relationship might work to his favor, especially considering what they were up against. A confrontation between them would put the female in too great a danger. It would be to Malacor's advantage to continue to serve as his second in command therefore delaying his protégé's eventually attempt to take over all the Interrogator Divisions. Provided of course he could persuade the Malestron that he wasn't the greater threat to her life.

Lt. Starfield, who had begun to question if she had come from her trial completely sane was blissfully unaware at exactly how complicated and dangerous her universe had become. So it was a relief when she received something she could deal with, orders! They consisted of a transfer to the prison division with a permanent promotion to Captain. Even before she picked up the little gear allotted to her, she received sincere condolences from several of her friends. An assignment to the prison division was a dubious honor even with a promotion, it was generally the end of an officer's career. It was often the military's equivalent to exile, the division was the least prestigious of all. It served as a receptacle for the incompetent and the trouble makers, who could vegetate safely away form any centers of power. Starfield really didn't mind this, it sounded like a possible opportunity for peace and quite.

First Commander Malacor was not a happy being and when the interrogator lord was displeased no one was safe. Any interrogator who's performance varied in the slightest from the highest of standards received the severest discipline permitted by the regulations. They were of course better off than any of the regular enlisted who crossed the angry Malestron's path. The transfer had fit into the pattern of past postings. Orders had come down from officers in the High Command who upon questioning had never seen or signed the paperwork, but Starfield never arrived at her new post. There had been a ship to ship transfer deep in space with new orders that had taken her to a yet undisclosed post. Malacor sat entranced upon his throne trying to consider any and all possibilities but one. Lord Shivar was undergoing similar considerations on his personal battle cruiser but for non-personal reasons. Actually that wasn't quite true he took it quite personal when anything or anyone escaped his grasp which was both rare and fleeting. Frankly he didn't think she was dead, bodies weren't that difficult to dispose of and there would be no reason if she was dead for anyone to conceal her death, quite the opposite. While nothing had developed about her whereabouts there had been an increasing amount of information coming to light about the female's past interactions within the Alliance. It was inconceivable that her records had been routinely altered and no one could be linked to the alterations. He had his suspicions, if true, if he could prove it, it would be the ultimate triumph of his career. He would find a way. He had spent the past three centuries turning the Interrogator Division into the most feared division in the Alliance and no life form natural or otherwise would make fools of them. It was time to pay his protégé a visit.

The armored general sat in silence upon his ebony throne. It was not a peaceful quite but the silence that bridges the gap between lightning stroke and thunderclap. Captain Starfield had disappeared, this was simply unacceptable. Beneath his implacable armor the Malestron's skin was flooded with the hues of rage. Layers of gray and pastel had given way to shades of black streaked with the scarlet of human blood, a sight, that in his native environment would have frightened away all but the most mad of its natural predators. Lost in rage, Malacor barely acknowledged the entrance of Lord Shivar. For a moment , Shivar stood silent as if he could see through the alien's armor and knew the fury within, then he turned an dismissed his aides. As he walked slowly across the space of Malacor's den the Interrogator Lord asked, "What is the level of security that you can provide within this office." Commander Malacor made several motions on his desk as he began speaking, "I have been giving such matters extensive consideration do to the nature of the case at hand." As he finished his statement there arose a low hum, a note almost below hearing but that was a sound none the less. " My office is now enveloped in a stasis field that prevents any form of sensor data from being collected from the area within that field. The computer in control of this field is isolated from all other forms of communication and is incapable of forming a record of any sensor data." As He sat down in the just forming chair Lord Shivar replied ," You have then come to the same conclusions as I." The armored form leaned forward to say, "Of course the facts that were gathered could lead to only one possible conclusion, the uncertainty is whether we can prosecute the case." Lord Shivar, who gave his scalpel laced hand an admiring glance stated in calm cold terms, "Oh, we will prosecute, I do not age and if it takes my next three centuries, we will prosecute. " Malacor flexed one of his own hands in unspoken reply before he spoke, Lord Shivar's toys did not impress him. His tentacles where graced with razor sharp talons that lay crouched in the center of each of a dozen suckers that laced every single digit. "You realize of course it isn't just the level five sentient computer of this quadrant, that is involved but factors indicate that all eight of mega-minds are playing the game." said First Commander Malacor as he leaned back into his chair to face his mentor. Lord Shivar whose gaze seem to have shifted into the distance gave what was left of his organic lips a slight lick before replying, " It is unlikely that she is dead or has been harmed, she is much too valuable of a game piece for them. In fact they probably view our interest as only another factor in the current game, therefore I have decided that when she is found again to permit you to marry her." Malacor looked at his superior officer through his mask and was silent for several moments. Then cautiously he began, " It is not that I am unmoved by your gracious offer but there is no precedent for such an action on your part." The Lord Shivar smiled at his protégé's discomfort. "I do not like to be predictable and it is the most elegant way to remove the now Captain Starfield from the direct electronic hands of the mega-minds. After all what could be more expected then the wife of an Interrogator Lord to be surrounded by Interrogator security. "he said. Malacor looked away for a moment as if to stretch his neck muscles, a totally learned motion, Malestron's did not need to stretch in the way of less fluid beings then replied, "You intend to use her as bait for the mega-minds." Lord Shivar rose an stated, "Exactly, we must not have these chats too often I don't won't the level five becoming suspicious." Commander Malacor stood as his commander did and added, " It will be necessary to completely erase the personality program of the level five computer as well as execute a variety of officers to justify the current investigation, and convince the mega-minds that we have closed the case." The machine man paused long enough to reply, " Actually I don't think any artifice will be necessary, I suspect that when we hear again from Captain Starfield; we will be given exactly what the mega minds think we want", with that High Commander Shivar turned and as Lord Malacor shut down the stasis field left the room. The conversation had been short but it would serve as the underlying guide for the Interrogative Corp action for the next century. Malacor summoned his aide. "Invoke General Order 12 concerning the officer, Captain Amber Starfield," That command would send a complete read out of Captain Starfield's identification coding, everything from visual identification to a digitized record of her DNA structure. If any transmission came through the Alliance's communicators with her voice print it would set off alarms in at least one nearby installation. If any written memos or coding passed under a military scanner with her fingerprints it would be acknowledged by the division before it had finished transmitting. If she still lived an accessed the military technology in any form it would only be a matter of time before it would be noted, and not a long time. It was possibly the most through surveillance system in the universe. It had only one weakness, thought the angry malestron as he clenched his tentacles into a fist, the communication net was always under some computer's control.

Captain Karrack looked at the print outs of the information he had intercepted. At first it did not make any sense, Karrack's pride and joy was his own personal mainframe that had been built by a very talented nest brother. It could siphon off any information he wanted from the ships various computers but it in itself would go undetected. He had discovered that data concerning Starfield came into the computer network system and was altered before it was accessed. He was sure it was a program built in to the ship's systems because the alterations were almost instantaneous. He had found the gap whenever the ship talked to one of the mega-minds' super computers. Apparently information concerning Starfield was flagged at levels that had nothing to do with user programming. The problem was he really couldn't tell First Commander Malacor about it. His personal mainframe was most highly illegal in at least 539 ways, but then nobody was perfect.

***

Chapter Ten

From Captain Starfield's viewpoint nothing eventful had occurred on the trip to her new duty station. Ship to ship transfers in space were unusual but nothing to beam home about. The updated orders had arrived with the transport ship. Instead of being stationed on a prison base for Alliance soldiers, she was being sent to a prisoner of war world named "Garrison". Garrison was an earthed sized planet, which meant niceties like close to earth gravity (1.04 standard) and a similar rotation (27.3 hours). It was almost like home except for the absence of water and no atmosphere. The long trip out was made without any communication allowed from the transport, that really wasn't alarming, all prison of war encampments were kept as secret as possible. She spent the time reviewing the prisoner of war system and the specific regulations dealing with the actual keeping of prisoners. She tried to keep her mind off of Malacor, Lord Shivar and Karrack's warnings. She did mull over the fact that she hated the uniform. It was petty but she had never looked good in brown. She was convinced that the only reason prison division personnel wore brown was the fact all the other really good colors were taken. It wasn't that she had anything against the color but when you're born with brown eyes, brown hair and brown freckles, you don't wear brown. She had looked in the mirror just long enough to make a mental note not to wear a green hat, someone would mistake her for a tree.

As ship made orbit around Planet Garrison, Amber got her first good look at her new home. It bore a great resemblance to the moon as did a vast number of worlds, a dead chunk of rock. There was no softness about it, what was flat was absolutely flat. Any mountains or ridges were slices of basalt that looked more like they had been slammed into the ground then had arisen from it. Dotted among the unforgiving landscape where the military installations, giant half buried domes of poured concrete alloys. It was the cheapest form of structure for such worlds. Underneath each of the mounds were layers of underground tunnels that ate their way into the depths of the dead planet's mantle. When her shuttle landed on Garrison, all that greeted her where the standard automated personnel carriers. Since it was the local equivalent of 03:00 hours it wasn't a surprise that the landing site was deserted. With a luggage droid in tow she found what she was looking for in the main building, the entrance to a transport tube. The first levels were for individual passengers and bore a great deal of resemblance to the lifts aboard the spacecarrier. She keyed in her personal data and the coding on her orders. As she entered the sublift, the doors closed behind her, it seemed smaller, more closed in than the ones in spacecarrier. It is a good thing I don't have claustrophobia, she thought. The prison itself was a self-contained, buried anthill set off twenty miles out from the main base. As she stepped out of the sublift she stopped, her droid floating in the lift's doorway and took a good look around. She had stepped into what should have been the main guard station. What she saw was a room that looked abandoned except for assorted trash and discarded items scattered about the floor. It looked like the losing side of a war zone. She hoped for someone's sake there was a very good explanation as to why the prison's entrance was unguarded and the floor littered with trash. Now, it was true that an escaping prisoner had nowhere to go on an airless, waterless world but still there should have been at least some token of security. She had taken the time to study the layout of Warren 342 while aboard the transport so she had no problem finding her office and the Captain's suite, even in the dim lighting of downshift. She resisted the temptation to haul her personnel out of bed in the middle of the night. She would freshen up and take a short nap before first light. Her personal chronometer woke her up just as the lighting switched into daylight mode. The nap may have been a bad idea, since she now felt more tired than when she had laid down..

She unpacked a fresh uniform and dressed herself as befitted the new commanding officer of the encampment. Captain Starfield walked into her office, there was still no sign of life. After a brief search she finally located the prison's communication unit. It was buried under what she hoped where not important papers. She gained access to the device by shoving everything in front of it onto the floor. The emergency siren was a customary design, Amber decided to see if it worked by slamming the alarm button. The emergency siren's clarion burst to life with a shrill noise that she could feel in her teeth as it began summoning a migraine to come in from orbit for a landing. The noise continued without response for nearly ten minutes, during which time she checked her laser pistol's charge and wondered if it would make a bad impression if she just shot all her current personnel and asked for fresh? It was about this time that a disheveled looking human corporal fell into the room, lunged up to the desk and snapped the siren off. Captain Starfield was leaning back against the end of her desk and standing on some of the files she had just shoved to the floor. Her temper in simmer mode she spoke, " Corporal, by what authority do you disconnect an emergency siren, and don't they still teach you to salute your commanding officer upon entering the room!!" The corporal was so startled that he almost fell over as he tried to salute, reply, straighten his clothes and hair all at the same time. With difficulty she managed to keep a straight face, " Corporal, I am still waiting for an explanation!" "Sir, the sergeant said, that I was to turn off that @#$!! noise in the next two minutes or I would spend the morning at the whipping post." replied the youth. Whipping post?, what in the world was he talking about she thought, that's not regulation. Upon inquiry she discovered the whip in question was a trialian pain shredder. A lovely little device that enforced all the pain of its primitive ancestors without physically damaging the victim. It was supposedly found only in the hands of the enemy or an interrogator. "Corporal, please attempt to make yourself presentable." said Captain Starfield as she again slapped on the emergency siren.

There was a slight improvement in the response time at this point, only five minutes elapsed before an overweight, balding sergeant staggered in. The man cursed at the top of his lungs as he switched the device off. Then he began to berate the Corporal who had come stiffly to attention once he had gotten his shirt tucked in. At least the corporal had been dressed, which was more than could be said for the sergeant who was barely wearing the bottom half of his uniform. Captain Starfield tired of being ignored, slammed the office door. The sergeant turned then he saw her, his mouth started to form a leer that was lost when his eyes finally made it up to her rank insignia, then the mouth fell open. Whatever tortured efforts at thinking that were going on in the man's besotted brain where taking place at a pace entirely too slow for Starfield's sentiments. However when he staggered over to her breathing alcoholic fumes into her face and said, " Hi ya, doll!". She lost her temper, kicked him where it would do the most good, then blackjacked his head with the hilt of her custom made laser pistol as he folded over. One does not greet a superior officer in such a fashion! The corporal whose face wore a look of complete astonishment stayed firmly in place. "Corporal, is it possible that there is a least one sober, competent, non-commissioned officer in this garrison?" she asked. The corporal didn't answer but from the tortured expression on his face it was evident he was giving the question serious thought. Before Starfield could finish considering if her question was beyond the youth's limited mental facilities or beyond her limited personnel resources the staff sergeant began to climb to his feet. Captain Starfield pulled out her laser pistol again, set the toggle to maximum and fired a beam just under the sergeant's nose that left a neat one inch hole in the opposite wall. She did hope the room was unoccupied. The sergeant had recovered enough of his sensibilities to stiffen into a semblance of attention and salute. "Identification soldier," she said in tones that left no doubt that such information would be needed for his soon to be occupied body bag. "Sergeant Truk, Sir." he said in a reasonably respectful voice. Amber wasn't sure if his attitude change was in deference to her rank or the man had a healthy respect for an angry woman holding a fully charged laser pistol. "Sergeant Truk, you will have the standard status reports on my desk before 0900 hours and further more by 1500 hours, you will present me with an updated inventory of all equipment, supplies, prisoners and personnel on site. At that time I will review your personal file and based on your previous conduct reach a decision on just how much rank you are going to lose for this morning's fiasco. You are dismissed." The man left the room with all haste, it was at this moment she realized that the Corporal was still standing at attention. "At ease Corporal, what is your name? she asked. "Corporal Johnson, sir." the soldier replied in awestruck tones. In the short conversation that they had exchanged it had become clear that the corporal was a mental reassignment. If for some reason a soldier lost some but not all of his mental capacity in the line of duty he would be found suitable work as long as he was not a complete vegetable, those went to the medical labs. It was a cruel form of job security but the Alliance would get their service one way or the other. "Johnson as of this moment you are my personal aide, you take orders only from me. If you are harassed or receive the least bit of lack of cooperation from any of the enlisted personal you are to report it immediately!" she stated. The youth who must have enlisted the day after he became eligible, replied, "Only you, sir?" "Yes, now go down to the mess hall and bring me a breakfast tray and in the process you might mention to the chief nutritionist that the kitchen will be inspected in the next twenty-seven hours." with that she dismissed her new aide. Whipping post, indeed, when she got through with the local personnel they were going to devote all their time to worrying about their own hides.

Amber cleared off the rest of her desk by judiciously dumping everything left on it into the floor and began to fix herself a cup of tea from the supplies she had brought with her. As she sipped her drink, she made a list of the inspections she intended to pull in the next 27 hours. Johnson arrived in a modest amount of time, carrying a tray loaded down with delicacies. It had been a long time since she had been offered a breakfast of steak, eggs, grits, ham, pancakes, sausage, milk, juice and where in heavens did they get fresh grapefruit? The stuff looked good and she was starved, despite being outnumbered, she made a credible dent in the offering, while contemplating what a disaster the kitchen was probably in. She shared the meal with the Corporal who looked like he needed several good meals, of course she didn't tell him she was sharing. She simply told him to taste it to make sure no one was trying to poison her yet. Such a precaution was unnecessary since one of the personal supplies she carried was a gift from Commander Malacor. On their fourth date he had given her a miniaturized molecular analyzer in the form of a glitterstone ring. It had been carefully adjusted to her nutritional requirements and would change color dramatically if anything passing under it was poisoned. It was a very expensive item that only people who really needed it could afford. She had been somewhat overwhelmed when Ambrose had given it to her. She had never told anyone its true nature, such things were most useful when they were kept secret.

After she had finished breakfast she started for the parade grounds where the first inspection was to be held. Like the few other relatively open spaces at this installation it was above ground and under the concrete alloy dome that formed the ceiling of her little fort. Directly under the arch of the dome, it felt almost like being outdoors. If you discounted the fact that the sky ended at fifty feet above your head in concrete alloy coated with phosphorescent film that kept the need for lighting at the minimum. It was the same stuff that was used on the ceilings of all the tunnels. As she entered the area she had Johnson in tow carrying a large note pad. The prisoners that shuffled quietly into the courtyard were a sad looking group. Mostly technicians and low level administrative personnel who had the misfortune to be caught behind shifting lines of battle. Of the prisoners present that had actually belonged to the Unification military none of the true combat species were present except for one lone crabion. The crabion squatted to one side, it managed to look desolate despite its eight foot caprice and well over one ton mass. The prisoners were mostly chest high insectoids of several different species and a few true reptiles, none venomous. Still as a group the prisoners looked far more trustworthy than the guards. She had the distinct impression that she might be better off putting the guards in the cells and giving the prisoners guns. She was beginning to believe someone in the high command didn't like her. During the inspection the prisoners were silent if somewhat sullen. She didn't mind that, they were after all prisoners, but some of the guards made the mistake of whispering behind her back as she inspected ranks. Captain Starfield drew her weapon and turned, firing a laser burst through the edge of the nearest errant guard's helmet. She didn't say a word but it got a lot quieter after that. The inspection convinced her that the entire lot (guards), belonged in a military brig somewhere. After making her unhappiness with the current state of uniform dress clear by threatening to put the next soldier who arrived in her presence without proper uniform on duty painting the outside of the garrison without an oxygen helmet, Starfield dismissed her troops. Captain Starfield sat at her desk shaking with anger. It had become obvious in less than twenty minutes of inspection that the prisoners needed both food and medical attention. Unfortunately it had also become apparent that the soldiers under her command considered this to be business as usual. This could explain why it did not dawn upon her to report in to headquarters until almost noon. When she called up the command center she was greeted by a rare sight. An albino Saurian, his scales a translucent white and his eyes deep pink. The best descriptions she had heard for Saurians were shrunken evolved tyrannosaurus or a reptiliod with a tail and a lisp. The creature stared at her, an said with a exquisite slowness, "Command center Lieutenant H.e.z.z...speaking." Sitting inspection straight in her newly tidy desk she replied, "Captain Starfield transferred from Spacecarrier Aegaeon reporting in at assigned station Warren 342." For long moments the Saurian just sat there staring. Now Starfield was worried, what if her tardiness at reporting in resulted in a reprimand or worse? "I regret my delay in reporting in, I arrived around 03:00 hours this morning and circumstances delayed my communication until now." The Saurian blinked its eyes slowly several times and then licked its teeth before replying. Starfield knew enough about Saurian body language that if she had been food she would have been deeply concerned. It took the Saurian lieutenant two tenths of forever but he managed to reply, in soft hisses, " You .. are.. not .. required ..to ..report ..in.. until ..this ..afternoon but.. you.. must ...do.. so ..in.. person." Amber quickly ended the conversation with " Thank you Lt. Hezz , I will be there shortly." Then she sat in her chair for a moment thinking there was something odd about that fellow besides an incredibly slow speech pattern, but she just couldn't quite put a digit on it. Captain Starfield was not reassured, it had been her experience in the military that when someone told you not to worry, worry.

When she did report in at the administration building, she was told that the commanding general wanted to see her. This was not something she wanted to hear but not totally unexpected. The commanding officer was a General Sloff. General Sloff proved to be an extremely obese human male. Although since his bald head seemed to blended into the rolls of fat that composed his torso without the benefit of a neck, she was willing to consider the possibility that he wasn't human at all, but a proto-human alien species she had not encountered before. She stepped firmly on any growing nausea and managed to maintain a proper level of enthusiasm. They exchanged salutes and introductions then the general motioned with one huge misshaped hand for her to be at ease and sit. He began speaking in a jolly voice, "Captain Starfield, Welcome to Planet Garrison. I am sure that you will adjust quickly and do well here. Let's see, you were an Environmental Specialist on the Spacecarrer Aegaeon. Well don't worry your pretty little head you won't have to deal with anything technical or difficult as warden for Warren 342. The noncoms will do all the work, you will have plenty of free time." Amber just looked at him. She was seized by a deep dread that at any moment he was going to reach over and pat her on the head. Starfield replied, "Sir, I will do the best job I can, Sir !" The General wallowed back into his chair an then gesturing with a huge arm continued. "Now, now no need to worry, no one expects you to do too much just after being released from the medical wing." Smiling, he said, "I want you to know here on Planet Garrison we appreciate the company of a lady and no one will think any less of you just because you had a nervous breakdown." After dozens of transfers, she knew at this point just to smile, say yes sir and wonder what reality her personnel file was from? But she had gotten a bad feeling that had nothing to do with whatever state that her personnel files were in. She had to check, giving the huge officer her best I am just so honored smile, she asked, " Sir, who do I need to contact to get in touch with the local branch of the female officer's club." The General replied, " I'm sorry my dear, we don't have a female officer's club, we didn't have any female officers on Planet Garrison until, now." Amber looked at him, her mind processing the following thoughts; over ten thousand personnel stationed on Planet Garrison, the majority human male, I am the only female on the planet!?!! The General continued, "There are of course close to a thousand alien female technicians on the planet my dear but none are officers, your are our first. We are going to take good care of you." If General Sloff's office had had a window, she would have been tempted to jumped out of it. As Sloff rose to his feet Starfield sprang up to stand at attention. Her new commanding officer began to maneuver around his desk, "Now I know you've had a long and tiring trip, so why don't you return to your warren and get some rest. We are having a little party tomorrow night at headquarters. It will be an excellent opportunity for you to meet your fellow officers. We will be looking forward to seeing you again." After they had exchanged salutes, Amber left as quickly as a professional stance permitted, while fighting an impulse to run screaming from the building. It wasn't until she was safely in the sublift, on the way back to her warren and fully armed that she was able to think clearly. OK, first thing I need to find out what species of female are stationed and where. No, first thing I need to do read my personnel files to find out what is in them! What statistical anomaly or other perversion of the universe had arranged for her to be the first human female officer on Planet Garrison, she didn't know. But her life was going to get incredibly complicated in rapid short order. As soon as she got back into her office she called up a copy of her personnel records that they had on file. She surveyed the record with wonder, it wasn't that it was falsified exactly but someone had done a masterful job of surgery on it. Anything that might indicate she was competent or dangerous just wasn't there. It had been done in such way that unless you were familiar with her records the tampering would not be apparent. Except the cause listed for her stay in the hospital was nervous prostration which anyone reading would translate into "poor thing, just couldn't handle such a stressful position". Well it was a good thing she had looked at it. It wouldn't do to show up at a party, wearing medals for campaigns that were no longer listed in her files. The next morning a package arrived from General Sloff, containing two dresses. It seemed the general was concerned that she didn't have the resources for a formal party. Amber pulled out the said items of apparel, she laid the two dresses on her bed. It was a good thing the general had sent two, maybe if she wore both of them together there might be enough material involved to be decent, barely. Had she mentioned at this point that she was getting ticked? Now it was true that every time she changed duty stations her personnel records went through some kind of metamorphosis but this was the first time she had been passed off as a harmless incompetent. It would have been nice if she got some kind of warning on these things. Yea, like I could have had my hair restructured to blonde. It was just as well her troops were keeping a low profile, she would have sorely loved an excuse to shoot someone, anyone just now.

***

Chapter Eleven

The administrative center was composed of dozens of the concrete domes overlaid on each other like a mound of soap bubbles. Several of the of these had been designed as gardens, the necessary lighting and water systems suspended on alloy frames that braced and crisscrossed under the dome's fifty-foot arch. The officer's party was scheduled in the largest of these areas. As the last airlock seal closed behind her, Captain Starfield paused to look around. Before her was a five acre garden bathed in moonlight, with an open roof pavilion of stone at its center. Breathing deeply even her poor sense of smell was rewarded with the rich scents of exotic blooms and rain soaked earth. She made a mental note to met whoever was responsible for crafting such a deceptive environment. Notoriously difficult to manage in foreign artificial environments the design of gardens, hydroponics and micro farms were as much an art as a science, a talent she envied. There were just a few starglow stones among the pathways to show the way but since the garden appeared to be bathed in the light of a full moon even those were redundant. Amber turned and walked slowly down a path that weaved along the outer wall of the dome. She was in no hurry to enter the noise and light of the pavilion. Finally a third of the way around she caught a whiff of a familiar scent, she followed a thin ribbon of stones that twisted into a cul-de-sac hidden behind a dark hedge. At its center was a small stone bench and among the hedge were gardenias in full bloom. Careful not to disturb the fragile petals she cupped a bloom in her hands and bent forward to bring her nose close. It was delicious, so sweet, her favorite scent, she cupped several blooms this way before resting on the bench. Soon she would have to leave and go up to the brightly lite crowded pavilion but not just yet.

In the quite she heard foot steps then voices there was a path that ran by the other side of the hedge. Completely hidden from view, she heard two male voices. "Keep your voice down," said the first one. "My voice is down and everyone is at the dance, anyway," said a deeper voice. "Did you find out anything about this new officer?" asked number one. "No, except what everyone else knows that its an actually woman." said the second deeper voice. "Yea, rank has its privileges if you know what I mean." replied one then he added, "Although I got a friend at the warren she took over who says she has got the temper of a Vorn and is one alloy plated bitch." "That figures. " said two. "Yea, in fact there is already a pool betting on how long she will run the warren before she's transferred as an aide to one of the commanding officers and who will get her first." She didn't hear anymore of the conversation as the pair of voices continued toward the pavilion. Fear gripped her as she fought for reason, cunning and control. Okay, they hadn't said anything that should have been news to her. Regardless of the number of female alien personnel with the majority of troops stationed being male humans she would be regarded as a prize, or a status symbol. It hadn't seemed important until now but she did remember that her new records made no mention of her prostitute's license or fee and she doubted under the circumstance that it would have helped anyway. She stood up and began to smooth the folds of her floor length dress than stepped out onto a path that would lead her up to the pavilion. It would not be wise to delay any longer. She needed time to plan, to think, one thing she did not want to happen was to provoke a general officer into pulling rank and using force. She needed to find out who had the real power and flirt just enough so that other officers would leave her alone. Ideally she needed two possibly three officers of relatively similar power base she could play off against each other, so that any interest in her would become a contest of seduction. Yeah, right she thought, I might as well wish for a private space yacht back to the spacecarrier while I am at it. Having been at her warren just long enough to be disgusted by its condition she didn't have to guess what Garrison officers' priorities were. It became obvious as she walked across a hundred foot diameter of polished silver stone that was the pavilion's dance floor.

The crowd in and around the pavilion consisted of mostly human males in dress uniform, all officers. Here and there was an alien male, in contrast all the other gowned females she passed were alien. As she approached General Sloff, he turned to watch her with a frown. Ignoring this she gave him her biggest smile and a half curtsey as she stood before him. There was a hard look in his eyes as he said, "I don't recall sending you a black gown." "Oh, I am so sorry sir, but both of those lovely gowns you sent to me were much too small and this was the only formal gown I had brought with me. It is the height of fashion aboard Spacecarrier Aegaeon." she said while favoring the general with one of her best looks of combined ignorance and innocence. Gratefully that at least in this, her doctored personnel file would make it believable. She knew better to succumb to the temptation to believe those she disliked were stupid. General Sloff broke into a big grin, "Well, now I am sure you did the best you could on such short notice and it is a lovely gown but we must find you a more cheerful color than black! Call the head quartermaster tomorrow morning and give him your measurements and I am sure we can find something for you." Much to her relief, after a few introductions General Sloff left her alone to mingle. The fact that the vast majority of officers present were male humans was not surprising since prison personal were pulled from other divisions and no right thinking commander would pull from among his best troops for such an assignment. In the majority of the other species in the Alliance any perceived weakness was dealt with in ways other than reassignment. The individuals involved depending on species were eaten, used as live targets, forced into breeding status or fed to the young. Among the non-humans she counted Reptiliods and Saurians, including the albino she had meet earlier. She also saw the ever present Avainaries, an at least a half dozen Seth. The Seth were humanoids covered in fur that came in all the shades of the rainbow, sometimes on the same individual. The Seth's head looked like someone's color blind version of a werewolf on a bad hair day. Each fingertip was graced by an inch long nail that was razor sharp. The only reason that the Seth were not considered a combat species was that they refused to be so classified. Who they had paid or killed off she didn't know in any case they had been granted the humanoid general service classification and no one seem to be interested in arguing the point with them.

She was introduced to dozens of people including some of the female aliens among the technical staff but didn't dare say more than a few words of small talk. As the evening wore on Captain Starfield decided all the personnel fell into two broad categories. The largest being individuals that were incapable, incompetent or incorrigible. The exceptions were those rare beings that were on Garrison because they could expose the criminal incompetence of commanding officers. Almost all of her dance partners were human except for a high ranking Seth named Ravage, who cut in several times and Lt. Hezz , who danced far better than anyone else herself included. Colonel Ravage was nearly seven feet tall, his fur a swirling tangle of black, blood and deep brown. Most of the Seth tended to look cute in pink, white, mint, and other swirls of color usually associated with candy, flowers and fluff. Ravage could have passed for another species or maybe his appearance was just closer to the truth of Seth temperament. He was built like one of his ancestors had been overly fond of a grizzly. During a much needed break from the dance floor the background noise of the party dropped several levels just as she exhausted her repertoire of idle chit chat. A pale thin wisp of a man who was a colonel in administration and who had come within a hair of being slapped all evening leaned over to whisper. "It is the Interrogator Commander Decaron." For a moment Amber just looked at him. It was if his translator was broken, the words gibberish. What would an interrogator general be doing here?

She had done enough research to know there were no interrogator divisions on prison planets. If that puzzled her, what happened next was a shock, the Commander Decaron introduced himself. The man wasn't even wearing a helmet much less a face mask. It was true that he was wearing black but it wasn't armor and didn't resemble any of the uniforms she had seen before. Starfield didn't know what to make out of it. Fortunately everyone including Commander Decaron assumed that her reaction was from the shock of actually meeting an interrogator officer. The commander in question thereafter preoccupied her time it was fortunate considering her state of mind that the only conversation the commander was interested in was his own. She kept mentally comparing him with the other interrogator officers she had met. It soon became clear that all the other officers were afraid of Commander Decaron, including the planetary commander, General Sloff. Starfield didn't feel any fear when she compared Commander Decaron to First Commander Malacor, the planetary interrogator came out looking like a grack grub at feeding time; soft, stupid and highly digestible. The man even offered her a tour of his facilities, which she declined on the grounds of a delicate constitution. (That nervous breakdown thing came in handy). Commander Decaron seemed to enjoy this immensely. By the time she managed an escape back to her encampment she had so much to think about she didn't know where to begin.

The confusion she felt at what she had seen was overwhelming, something was very wrong. Had Malacor lied to her about Interrogator standards or installations? It wasn't like he was under oath or anything. The only other logical conclusion was that an interrogator officer was out of uniform and a interrogator installation was on a site where it had no business being. If Commander Malacor had lied to her about such things, what else had he lied about? Yea like I am really in a position to make judgments. I just neglected mentioning any truth that would have been inconvenient or self-incrementing. Come to think of it that was more standard dating procedure than espionage. Unable to sort out her churning emotions and with far more questions than she had answers she focused on getting her encampment in order.

The first order of business was dealing with Sergeant Turk, she deeply regretted that there was nothing more she could do to him then break him down to a private, and transfer him off her post. What she desperately needed was a noncom, who was both competent and trustworthy. Taking her cue from General Sloff's attitude, she called up personnel and batted her eyes at the lieutenant in charge. It went something like, "Oh, that horrid man, I just had to get rid of him, I so-o need a new sergeant. I would really like an Avianary, they sound so funny don't you think, when they talk? Or maybe one of those cute Seth." By the time she was through the officer had agreed as a personal favor to send her over a dozen or so alien personnel for interview. After the conversation, she took a moment to lay down with a damp cold cloth over her eyes. I don't know what is worse, she thought that these guys believe women act like this or that there might be females who really do. It was worth it though, the results turned out far better than she could have hoped.

When she walked into her office the following morning, sitting thirty minutes early for his scheduled interview was an Avianary. His feathers were a dark hard green, made harder still by the fact he wore his feathers layered so tightly they looked like scales. His beak was a matte green to match his feathers, its edge had been artificial hardened and filed to a scalpel's sharpness. Ex-commando, Amber thought as she sat down behind her desk. She did not recognize his presence until after she had eaten breakfast and was sipping her morning cup of tea. Then she glanced at his file and felt her heart flutter. She couldn't be really sure, after all Avianary true names consisted of no less then twelve parts denoting family lineage, nest status and clan relationship. But, it looked like he was a blood relative on his mother's side to the Azures which was Karrack's root clan. Sitting at her desk she looked at him over her cup of tea and said, " Sergeant Kakkon what is your relationship to Karrack Kristle Rictar Almor Dicad Trian Sirenath Algoth Marack Kirle Tickle Roth." She had memorized Karrack's true name after they had gone through nest mate ceremony. In Avianary culture this made her a non-related adopted sister of Karrack's that included becoming involved in clan politics both good and bad. Still as a statue, Kakkon replied in a low tenor ," That is why I am here. When I learned of your arrival and knew you to be nest kin, I came to establish kaa." Kaa was an Avianary term, it meant to gather what was good for the nest. It was in moments like this that prayers of gratitude just seemed totally inadequate, but she would offer up a few at the first available time slot. "Kakkon, as you well know I have just arrived at this post. Frankly I am in desperately in need of all the competent personnel I can lay my hands a hold of, Warren 342 is a complete disaster.", she said as she put aside her tea cup. Kakkon cocked his head to one side, an sang, "You should know that it is no different than the other encampments." Amber shook her head no once adding the neck thrown back and forward gesture which was pure Avianary influence and replied, "Let everyone else nest on low ground, what do I care?" At this the stone serious Kakkon let escape a couple of low clucks of laughter at her jib and responded, "It will be both a difficult and dangerous undertaken." " Now , if the personnel available are typical of what I've got already, I can understand why it would be difficult but why dangerous?" asked Starfield. The birdman replied, "Let us just say that displays energy or ambition are not viewed with favor by headquarters." Amber closed her eyes and shook her head, its wasn't that I haven't had to be sneaky before but this would be the first time I had to do so to follow the regulations, not break them. Kakkon was not her only surprise of the day.

Just after her lunch break she interviewed a female Seth named Sasha. The Seth's face fur was an ivory and her long white mane stripped in pink, mint and blue. She wore it tossed to one side so that you only got a glimpse of her left eye through a cascading rainbow of color. "Hello Lt. Sasha, you may be at ease and be seated." said Captain Starfield after they exchanged salutes. "I must say this is a pleasant surprise, I had been given the impression that I was the only female of officer rank, " she said. Sasha replied in short barked bursts, "Technically correct, sir! Position is technical. Rank is grade. Not command staff!" Even while sitting the Seth gave the impression of vibrating on the spot. Thoughtfully Amber looked at her, the only time she had seen anything tremble like that was a very small dog who lived in constant fear of being stepped on. The Seth were not a fearful race and she didn't think it was the interview that had the female so rattled. She bought time by studying the information on Sasha she had in front of her. She was educated as an engineer, graduated second in her class but something had knocked her career out of orbit. When she had at arrived at Planet Garrison less than ten months ago she was only an ensign. "Sasha, I have only been able to give Warren 342 a cursory inspection but if the machinery is as neglected as everything else I have looked at we are in either imminent danger of the environmentals collapsing or the power cores rupturing or both at the same time. Whoever comes on board as my chief engineer is going get their nails dirty and risk having their mane fried to a crisp before safety levels are even marginal." Sasha stopped trembling with ears fully erect she raised her muzzle and barked softly, "Work sir? You let me work?" Amber still didn't really understand the questions but replied, "Yes, Lt. Sasha my chief engineer would work ." Sasha looked at her with those big green eyes an started trembling again, barked "Please Captain Starfield, please let me work" Amber glanced at the papers on her desk, embarrassed for her. She had never heard a Seth beg. It wasn't a logical decision, she hadn't even begun to compare the technical qualifications of the other applicants. She stood up and tried not to notice the Seth had winced, "Welcome aboard Lt. Sasha, I can always use someone who wants to work. Can you report for duty tomorrow?" Sasha leaped up to grasp her hand with both her paws and barked "Stay here, now? please." Making several decisions simultaneously, Captain Starfield replied, "Of course, I believe the officer's quarters next to mine are unused, you may have those." As soon as she was dismissed Sasha ran out of the room. Captain Starfield thought for a moment and tapped the intercom," Corporal Johnson." "Yes, sir" replied her aide from his desk in the next room. "When Sergeant Kakkon returns with his gear have him report to me immediately, I will be in my private quarters until further notice."

Once in her personal quarters, Starfield checked the charge on her laser pistol and then went to her luggage. Under a false floor of the largest case was a compartment that held a few carefully chosen items. One was the pistol from the Troop Carrier Fang and five pounds of clips. A very primitive device made entirely of metal alloys it had no energy pulse, no delicate electronics that could be jammed. If the thing hadn't been larger than her own hand she would have been able to wear it undetected. Any current detection device would read it as jewelry, she needed a way to keep it close. Then there was a thin sharp dagger set in its sheath, it looked purely ornamental but the blade was coated with an extract of venoms that would be instantly lethal to anything she had met so far. Ten months, what would she be like after being here for ten months?, she thought. No! That wasn't going to happen, she had to contact help, reinforcements, friends, someone on the outside, most of all she had to survive.

***

Chapter Twelve

Later that evening Sergeant Kakkon, knocked at the entrance to her suite. Once greetings had been exchanged, they sat down at a small table she had set with coffee service and a few small fruit filled pastries. The pastries were delicious and Starfield was considering the possibility she might keep her current corrupt but talented chief. After the pleasantries were over she brought out one of the devices she had recovered from their hiding place. The Avianary's green-blue eye's stared unblinking as she set a small sphere of glass on a circular stand. The sphere was a swirl of green and white, quite pretty a fairly common decorative object. Captain Starfield touched the sphere with her left index finger tracing a pattern across its surface, activating it. Submitting to her cautious streak she pulled out a personal communicator from a pocket in her uniform. Several tries on it at different settings failed to raise any of her people, satisfied she turned the communicator off and set it down. "Sergeant Kakkon, we are now encircled by a small area of interference that will neutralize any possible communication or recording device that may have been placed in my quarters. The limitations on this device is a ten foot radius of effectiveness and only about a hundred hours of service before its power source must be replaced." The Avianary let out a short series of clucks that didn't quite translate but Starfield knew the sounds to be the equivalent of a feline's purr. Grinning she said, "My top priority is acquiring competent personnel, trustworthy if possible, as we have discussed. . Your job will be to locate the personnel who met these qualifications and I will figure out how to get them here. This afternoon I accepted a female Seth, Lt. Sasha as my chief engineer, what do you know about her?" Kakkon tilted his head to one side and stroked his throat feathers with preening claw on his left hand. Then in a low tone he softly sang, "What I know about Lt. Sasha is only hearsay, that she was assigned as aide to Colonel Ravage". He paused, "Other things I have heard are not fit food to bring to the nest." Starfield looked at her non-com. His politeness was a sign of respect. But she still needed to confirm at what his silence hinted at. "Kakkon are you telling me that Lt. Sash's official position was aide but a better description would be personal slave?" she asked. The Avianary nodded yes, then opened his beak just enough to make a quick gesture of cleaning it with his tongue. It was a gesture of disgust with the information he had conveyed. This only confirmed what she had suspected, something very bad had happened to Sasha, humans weren't the only species to suffer from Post Traumatic Syndrome. Guttural Slime was found in all species, it would give her the greatest pleasure to arrange just a little payback. She hoped to live long enough to introduce Colonel Ravage to First Commander Malacor. "Kakkon in the next couple of days Ravage should pay us a visit, I want him stalled at the entrance till I can get there. Under no circumstances is he to be allowed anywhere near Lt. Sasha, if necessary drill a laser beam through one of his eyes. I will figure out what to do with the body." she paused. Kraken's crest stood straight up, he stared at her as if she had sprouted wings. "Sergeant, is there a problem?" she asked. The Avianary stretched out his neck to its full length, feathers standing straight out, and snapped his head in an almost 180% roll. "Madame Captain Starfield," he said, "I will have to apologize to Karrack and pay off on several bets. I thought his stories about you were exaggeration but I now suspect he was understating the facts." Great thought Amber as she sighed deeply, now I have to find out how much of my business and to whom Karrack has being singing, if I live long enough. "Kakkon, I appreciate your compliment but let us turn to our immediate problem. Does the hearsay about Ravage includes an interest in females outside his species?" The green Avianary rolled his green-blue eyes at that one and said, "It is always nesting season for Seth and Saurian." Amber resisted the temptation to make a comment about Avianary feathers being found in a wide variety of sleep chambers. Then said , "Great ! his interests and reputation will work in our favor.", and laughed. "He will never know what hit him." she said. After that she cut off the sphere to conserve power and talked about inspections and readiness reports.

The next couple of days passed in a blur, a series of inspections and confrontations as she attempted to make the encampment pass for a military installation. She was fairly sure she was making progress when the nicest unofficial title the noncoms had for her was composed of unrepeatable words. She had sorted her personnel into three categories; Those that should have been in prison, those that should have been executed, and a few rare souls who could have put someone important in either of the former categories. One look at the armory revealed that it was a toss up whether the weapons would be more lethal to the targets or to the men firing them. Adding to her stress level were calls from Commander Decaron. The Interrogator general was charming, she had to let him believe it was working if a little slower then he liked. Her stomach was starting to hurt, and she had spent the last several days on a self-imposed bland diet.

In the middle of all this whenever she interacted with the prisoners, she would have bouts of nausea that were not related to her digestion problems. Between superior officers who were as corrupt as any she had ever seen which was saying something and a command composed of criminal rejects the prisoners should have been the least of her worries. It wasn't that they were dangerous, most of them were suffering from malnutrition and near starvation. She was more worried about them dying before she could do anything about it then any revolt or escape attempt. It was at the beginning of her second week before she realized the source of her uneasiness. She was interviewing the senior officer among her prisoners. The ragged thin creature had been a Captain in the Unification personnel corp. A Balisk, it was a true reptile standing a little over five feet on its back legs, balanced by a tail that nearly doubled its length. In good health its scales would shone a brilliant blue and orange combination but her prisoner was not healthy. Its scales were dull, ragged and dirty looking. The creature got its name from the foot wide frill that encircled its neck. The frill under normal circumstances fluttered and extended with its owner's emotional state. This Balisk however had suffered a terrible disfigurement. The frill had been surgically removed as had the six inch fin that would normally extend down its back sloping in proportion to its tail. Captain Rijit was recounting a list of woes about the treatment of his people at the encampment, interceded with mild protests about the infractions of the latest prisoner of war treaty in force. All of which Captain Starfield was working diligently if quietly to correct. She didn't realize it until it was too late but she had been staring at the alien. The Balisk stopped its speech in mid-sentence drew itself up to maximize its height and began speaking in angry hurt tones it saying, " Does the Captain find my appearance disgusting.?" Starfield had lost her train of thought completely so engrossed had she become in trying to figure out what form of injury could have required such a complete amputation of the frill and fin while leaving the Balisk in otherwise perfect working order. She blushed, stupid she thought I should have known it would be sensitive to its disfigurement. In her most polite voice since the issue was now out in the open Captain Starfield inquired, " Captain Rijit could you please tell me what injury you sustained to cause you such disfigurement?" The look the Balisk gave her plainly stated that she must be insane to ask such a question. The creature hissed and spat on the floor, " Injury it was not, on purpose it was done! By the Interrogator's of Planet Garrison." Shocked by his answer all she could think to do was dismiss the creature. She sat starring at the wall for nearly an hour while she sorted out what she knew and what she couldn't be sure of.

If what she had learned about the Interrogator Division was accurate and what Commander Malacor had said was true then something was definitely not right. It was possible that Malacor had deceived her at some point but she would bet her life on Karrack's research. One, all interrogators wore armor that covered them completely, except then again she had seen Lord Shivar without armor. However Lord Shivar might be an exception since Division Commanders often broke their own rules whenever it suited them. The second thing she thought she knew was that the organization of Interrogators did not allow for an installation on a prison of war encampment. Any information that a prisoner might render useful was immediately after being taken in battle, in fact only the major worlds of the Alliance held Interrogator Divisions and those specialized in anti-terrorism activities. The third thing she thought she understood was that Interrogators did not disfigure subjects. The Interrogator took great pride in inflicting the most pain with the least amount of permanent damage. While disfigurement would cause a subject great mental anguish over a much longer period and she could not dismiss the possibility that Interrogators could commit such acts under their discipline duties but it made no sense against prisoners of war! But if she was correct then everything about this installation was illegal and someone in high command had to know all about it. She would need evidence if her suspicions were correct, but the slightest hint of an investigation on her part would render her a client in Commander Decaron's chamber of horrors.

During the next few days Captain Starfield interviewed each of her prisoners. Every single one of them carried a reminder from Interrogator Commander Decaron. Not all of the mutilations were obvious at first to a human. Each injury had two things in common, it would render the creature an outcast among its own kind and it was totally unnecessary. Even if Commander Malacor had lied to her, she was convinced that these people were either frauds or rejects from the division who were past due for summary execution. It had become clear that this Interrogator Division if that was what it was, did not follow the most basic procedures and had their own set of rules.

She called up Lt. Hezz to request use of the planet's interstellar transmitter. The Saurian's tongue flashed out an made a pass over its muzzle in the direction of its left eye in Saurian body language that came across as, " You've got to be kidding ?" Then the saurian said " Planet Garrison is maintaining radio silence." Giving it her best shot, Amber straightened in her chair with a slow swaying motion that was a major come on for Saurians then said, " I am sooo disappointed, I sooo wanted to talk to some of my friends, will this radio silence be maintained for very long?" Somewhere between his reply and hers Lt. Hezz actually managed to wake up. Saurians were notoriously venturesome when it came to females of other species and this one did not appear to be an exception. The Saurian was by this time leaning into communicator screen. The alabaster creature hissed slowly, "That would be difficult to say, perhaps we could meet and discuss it." Amber laughed inside, bold rascal I'll grant you, especially considering that I am a different species and his superior in rank. She smiled at him and said, " I would like to but unfortunately I am swamped right now trying to bring order out of chaos, could you at least tell me how long the current radio restrictions have been in effect?" The Saurian said, "That information is classified but I can tell you that it was in effect when I was assigned to Planet Garrison two years ago." By this time her flirting had so excited the Saurian that his tail had begun to vibrate at the tip. Lt. Hezz wrapped his tail around his left leg but it didn't stop. Flustered the reptile put one of his feet firmly on the vibrating tip. Still smiling as if this was nothing at all unusual Amber said, " I am so sorry to hear that Lt. Hezz. Since I won't be able to contact any of my old friends, I guess I will just have to make new friends." She tossed in a little lingering eye contact, then signed off. Two years?? she thought, now what idiot would believe that an enemy carrier would park itself in an Alliance quadrant for two years? Calling off world would have been really tricky anyway the conversation would have been carefully monitored, but at least someone would have known where she was. She would have to figure out a way to contact the Interrogator Division. In the meantime while she gathered evidence she had better prepare for a fight. On reflection she felt a bit guilty about leading Lt. Hezz on. The albino saurian didn't get a lot of female attention. However her twinge of guilt would not keep her from using his interest to get information. Maybe she could figure out something nice to do for him, just not what he had in mind. It had never come up but she had a strong suspicion that First Commander Malacor might have a serious jealous streak.

Meanwhile back on the Spacecarrier, Captain Karrack had not been idle. It had taken him the most part of three weeks to almost locate his nest-mate. The Interrogator Divisions had calculated probable locations based on the type of ship that had picked her off of the transport but that left an area over a hundred light years across and what if there had been another exchange? Since there were no records to be found of Captain Starfield's in flight transfers Karrack had taken a different updraft. He had used his own software to examine thousands of records of fuel expenditures against navigation logs. What he was looking for was either the tell tale trace of records changed from within the computer network linked to the Sentient 5 computer or data entries of fuel expenditures that didn't quite match logged destinations. In the process he unearthed a dozen smuggling operations. Information that would no doubt prove to be incredibly profitable in future. He was sure he had narrowed the possibilities down to half a dozen ships. Unfortunately now he needed to check out the crews that piloted each of those ships during the time period of Captain Starfield's disappearance. To find people he could trust to track down and question each of the crews would be time consuming. He chewed off half a dozen pinion feathers thinking about it. If he contacted Lord Malacor the crews in question would be under interrogator questioning so fast it would open wormholes in the space time continuum, but his illegal mainframe and software would be exposed. At the very least the Interrogator Division would confiscate it. There was a strong possibility that the First Commander Malacor whose bad temper was scaring even his fellow interrogators at the moment might decide on baked Avianary. It was just too risky and Amber might already be dead. No, he refused to believe she was dead. But if she was, he wanted first crack at those responsible, Malacor could have the remains. One thing he knew was that all the ships in question operated out of same quadrant. She was somewhere among a dozen different systems and a couple hundred outposts. Probably trying to reach him or someone she knew. He could at least make that as easy as possible for her. He would call up a few dearly held favors and get the Troop Carrier Fang assigned to that area. That Malestron she had saved was being shipped back in two days to the troop carrier. He would hold a surprise inspection of the recovery wing of medical section 9 , pull the Malestron aside and alert him to look for Starfield. Now if only he could figure out some way to get orders cut moving the surrounding fleet with the Spacecarrier into a trajectory that would take it within a few light years of that quadrant.

Lord Malacor sat at his desk reviewing the data from Karrack's illegal system. His tentacles twitched the claws flexing in their sheaths. If Karrack knew how close he was to death all of his feathers would have fallen out. When the azure birdman arranged for the mysterious reassignment of the troop carrier Fang to a quadrant over thirty light years from any battle lines, Malacor seriously considered having roast Avianary for lunch. It didn't help his temper that his aide took an entire day to determine the cause. Lord Malacor looked at a duplicate of the blue feathered Avianary's data, programming and conclusions. If he called in three more companies he would have enough troops to raid all the planets and outposts simultaneously. However such a massive move of troops would not go unnoticed giving the Sentient 5 and other guilty parties a chance to destroy evidence, and flee into the nearest convenient black hole. Also a full scale assault could result in the one thing he sought to avoid, Amber's death. The same thing could be said if the entire crew of the five transports most likely to have taken Starfield to her new location were placed in Interrogator custody. It would be a delicate task to arrange for a member of each crew to drop from sight without causing any ripples to attract the attention of Sentient 5. This would require possibly another ten days to implement. He could however arrange for the fleet to move into the general area under a half a dozen different legitimate reasons. The "Fang" would not be the only troop carrier to be relocated but this would take another three weeks. He was going to have a talk with that Avianary, unfortunately it would have to be limited to conversation. He suspected Amber would take a dim view of it, if he filleted her best friend and nest-brother. On the other hand a few painful minor injuries would insure that he had Karrack's full attention during the conversation.

The next day, Captain Starfield was called to her warren's entrance, Colonel Ravage had arrived. As she came through the door she saw Ravage with his ears laid back as two of her new guards blocked his entrance into the warren. Flashing a wide smile she said, "At ease, boys" and walked past them to approach the huge Seth. "Colonel Ravage, how delightful to see you. I thought you had forgotten about me completely." she said giving him her best smile. "Your guards refused to let me in to see you," he snarled. "Oh, that was nothing personal ", she said. "You wouldn't believe how many officers just drop in without any notice. I am seriously considering charging for tours." as she spoke Starfield let her gaze linger a little longer than necessary an moved her hips with just a little exaggeration. By this time Ravage's ears had come up and she had his undivided attention. Humans weren't the only ones who read alien body language. "It is so nice to have a welcome visitor for a change," she sighed. Ravage bent down enough to bring his bear sized muzzle next to her head an whispered , "For you I can come anytime." Amber smiled innocently ," How sweet when I know how very busy you must be as head of the engineer division." She then took Ravage on a tour of her warren carefully avoiding its underbelly a hundred feet down where Sasha was trying to recalibrate a fusion generator. She flirted shamelessly with the giant Seth but still managed to completely misunderstand his sly hints and innuendos. More than once she stroked his hand or rubbed her face against his shoulder only to graceful slid away from any full body contact. There always seemed to be two or more guards coming and going for orders or reporting to her, she was never alone with him longer than 10 seconds. Two hours later she escorted him to the warren's entrance stood on tip toe , kissed his furred check and waved him bye as she went back into her warren. She knew that Colonel Ravage was firmly convinced that he only needed an opportunity to make her a conquest.

Then she went to her quarters opened the top button of her uniform, disarrayed her hair and rubbed her eyes to redden them. Taking a few moments of thought she was able to bring tears to her eyes then she opened the view phone and dialed Commander Decaron's office. A pale faced man with blond hair cut brutally short answered the phone. Looking at him she blinked back tears, swallowed a sob and asked in a quavering voice, "This is Captain Starfield, may I speak to Commander Decaron, please." "Just one moment," the young man said as the screen went to a hold pattern and then just three minutes later Commander Decaron appeared on screen. Her voice cracking a little she began, "Commander Decaron, I hope this isn't a bad time to call, I just needed someone to talk to." With that she grabbed a tissue from off screen to dab her eyes. "Amber my dear is something wrong?" the Interrogator General crooned. "Sir, I don't want to make any trouble and I'm just not sure what to do, I was so scared." she sobbed. "Now Amber, you must tell me what has upset you so?", he asked. "Sir, I don't have any proof, it's just my word against his, an he's a superior officer, who would believe me?" she sniffled. A hard look came in to Decaron's dark eyes and he said, "Friends don't need proof, just tell me what happened." She told him a tale of how Colonel Ravage had suddenly showed up at her warren without warning and demanded a tour of it from her. Not wanting to offend a superior officer she had done as he had asked. But the whole time he kept making advances, pawing at her, slobbering in her hair. At this point she had to pause an regain her composure. Commander Decaron asked, "Did he touch you?" Shuddering she said , "No, he said sex with a Seth would make me forget all about males of my own species, I can't possibly repeat some of his other comments. He left but he said that when he came back he would take his time with me and I don't think he talking about the warren." She looked at him as a tear rolled down her cheek. The look on Commander Decaron's face would have been a snarl on any other species. "Amber don't worry, I will see to it that Colonel Ravage doesn't bother you again." "There won't be any trouble, sir ", she asked hopefully. "Not for you, my dear not at all, this isn't the first time Ravage has stepped out of line." said the Interrogator general. When their conversation ended, Amber straightened her hair and uniform. She then went out to her office and used the view phone there to call Colonel Ravage. When the Seth's head appeared on the view screen she said, "I have to be quick in case this call is traced ". The Seth's ears dropped to half mast as he asked , "Traced? What are you talking about is there a problem?" "Ravage, its Commander Decaron, he found out that you had come to visit me, he was furious. I tried to calm him, to tell him nothing happened between us. You were just being friendly but he wouldn't listen. He said he knew all about your tastes and he would put a stop to it. I have to get off the line, I can't talk to you anymore. Please be careful." then she punched the button to end the call. Regardless of what happened to the Seth, he would retain his impression that she had a thing for him. Yet at the same time he wouldn't come anywhere near her or her warren for the foreseeable future. Commander Decaron would have the advantage and pleasure of rescuing her from the unwanted advances of an alien male thus setting his self up as her protector. Not only would this give the rest of the males on the planet pause in dealing with her, it would set the tone of her relationship with Decaron. She would encourage him to play the hero which should delay any use of force for several weeks anyway. That wasn't much time to gather evidence, make her warren battle ready and find away to get a message to the Spacecarrier.

***

Chapter Thirteen

Her inspection of the guards' quarters and the infirmary had gone well. She had placed a long, slim Saurian in command of her guards, after she got him out of the main brig. Apparently a number of beings he disliked had been found dead, there was no evidence against him but it just wasn't a coincidence. Not normally a recommendation for promotion but she had learned enough about those who had died to know, she would have brought a shovel to help bury the bodies. "Strikez, I am impressed, the improvement was far greater than I expected in so short a time." she said. The inspection had ended in the infirmary which was now spotless but medical supplies were nonexistent, stolen for the black market. "Captain Starfield," the Saurian began, "May I speak freely?" Starfield took a deep breath and turned from her contemplation of the empty medicine locker. She could have stood under the Saurian's lower jaw, his teeth had a slight blue iridescence evidence of being hardened. "Strikez, it has not come to my attention that you have ever done otherwise but please continue." she said. It was habit that caused her to note exits, cover and that she had a least three loaded weapons on her person. Strikez shifted his position so that their eyes were on the same horizontal line while a gesture of respect it also put his teeth on level with her throat. "If one did not know better, one would believe that you prepare for much blood letting," said her new garrison leader. Starfield considered, several answers and decided against all reason to tell the truth, "We are not yet prepared for conflict but I will move all that is movable and shake what isn't to be ready for it." Strikez closed his mouth then leaned forward so that his breathe made her bangs move. He sniffed her carefully and then pulled back his head and said, "It does not look like she Suarian, it does not smell like she Suarian but it sounds and acts like a nest mother." Amber pressed her lips together an rolled them into a wide smile, for a Suarian nothing was fiercer and more dangerous than a female guarding her nest. "Thank you Strikez, to fight with the heart of a nest mother is my greatest desire, but it would be better if we did not have this conversation for only a few among us are trustworthy." she replied. "Yes, of the guards present not all are of your command," the Saurian dug between two fangs with a clawed finger as if removing a food particle and added, "It is unwise to have so many uninvited guests." "I couldn't agree with you more, do you know where more of my command can be found?." she asked. It was a delicate conversation that followed. The Saurian assassin had his own network of friends and allies and it was a delicate balance between her need for man power and his need to retain hidden resources. Strikez did agree to bring in almost a dozen of his comrades into her command who loyalties would be to him. It was an acceptable gambit, she did not have time to build her own networks. She needed to persuade just a few key people to use their resources for a mutual goal. The destruction of Planet Garrison's command staff and the Interrogator's citadel.

She had orders to report to General Sloff in the afternoon. She arrived in dress uniform, inspection ready. As she walked into his office General Sloff looked up, he didn't even return her salute. "I understand that you have been making a lot of changes at your encampment." he said grimly. Ok thought Starfield lets try, "Oh yes sir, I want to do a good job, sir." If she had had a tail she would have wagged it. The general's expression softened just a bit. The huge obese man rose up form his chair , "At ease soldier" he said as he walked all the way around his desk to stand in front of her. Clearing his throat he began, " I want you to know that I appreciate your enthusiasm but you do not have any training in prison security. I assure you that no one would think any less of you if you just let the noncoms handle things." The General continued smiling, " In fact, I am sure we could find you a much more fitting position for you in headquarters, perhaps as my personal aide?" The smile by now was approaching leer status. Now one thing Amber had learned in the Alliance military was that the personal aides of high ranking officers of different sexes rarely needed any secretarial skills. The last thing she wanted was to be transferred to this creature's bedroom. She had to do something to buy some time. She gave him her best doe eyed look then her eyes began to water, her lips started to quiver, she said tearfully, "Does that mean you don't like the job I'm doing ?" a tear escaped from one eye and rolled down her cheek. She gasped for breath and stifled a sob. The General snatched a few wipes from his desk and gave them to her. Placing a hand on her shoulder he said, "Now dear there isn't any reason to cry, I won't take your command away, but you must promise not to work so hard, let the noncoms handle things after all officers don't work for a living." As the general moved to embrace her, Amber paled and started to wobble on her feet, "Oh I don't feel well, " she said. The general moved to one side and helped her to the couch, as she sat down the huge man towered over her. He patted her shoulder and asked, "Are you going to be alright," still sniffling she said, " I am sorry sir, its just that when I get upset, sometimes I throw up." at which point she gave a very convincing heave. The general stumbled back giving her room to breathe. Amber was seething with anger on the way back to her encampment. Actually if it had been needed she could have thrown up. The hard part was not throwing up when he drew close to her. She was glad that this man and all his buddies were guilty of crimes that would result in very unpleasant deaths. Otherwise she would have had to figure out a way to kill the whole lot of them.

When Commander Decaron called her a few hours later she was expecting it. He averaged about five calls a week and she was running out of excuses to avoid spending time alone with him. "Amber dear your are looking tired, why are you working so hard?" Commander Decaron asked. "Sir, it is hard to rest when the atmosphere regulator breaks down on a daily basis." she said looking as tired as she felt. "I thought your new engineers were working on the machinery." he said. "Decaron, " she said with a sigh, "The machinery is just worn out, I have requested a new replacement and backup parts but I have been told it could be several weeks at the very best before I can expect delivery." "Now, now what have I told you about these trifles, all you have to do is ask and I can speed things up for you. Why don't you make a list of equipment you need replaced, we could discuss it over dinner." he said smiling. Captain Starfield paused for a moment closed her eyes an briefly licked her lips. "Its not just the equipment, " she hesitated a moment then blurted out, "I am afraid, I don't know who to trust, I am sure he is having me watched, spying on me." "Who?," asked Decaron. "That horrible Seth" she said then added, "Do you have any idea who it is, if I knew I could have his spies transferred out of my warren." There conversation continued for another thirty minutes of delicate verbal ballet as Amber sought to both encourage his interest without making any commitments on how she would express her gratitude. She did get his promise to send a list of known informants for Colonel Savage that were on her staff for which he expected her to be very grateful. She then had a shorter an similar conversation with Colonel Savage, shorter because the Seth was eager to get rid of any spies for Commander Decaron so that they could arrange a meeting. He also agreed to expedient equipment requests. Now both officers would expect her to be making transfers for their benefit which would buy her time and save questions. It also would allow her access to excess equipment and supplies for her to stockpile. All good things would come to and end though neither creature was stupid eventually they would become suspicious.

She had not been lying about officers dropping in uninvited. Officers seemed to devote a great deal of energy to coming up with reasons to visit her encampment or to send her invitations to visit theirs. There was a distinct advantage of being the only human female in the command. She just wasn't looking for evidence against General Sloff and his compatriots she was also looking for guards that were restless or over zealous in their duties. She needed more than a few good men and a working level five force field. It wouldn't do her any good to have a ton of carefully gathered evidence, supplies for a prolonged siege and a competent fighting force, if headquarters just nuked them off the map. It wasn't something she could request, it would have to be built from scratch by her engineers. Fortunately the black market on Garrison was a vast bottomless pit of stuff no one was supposed to have. She just needed something to trade for all those questionable goodies. Kakkon who was the human equivalent to a cousin of Karrack's, had been shipped to the Garrison after he had diverted a few luxury items for general officers into items for his combat group. The Avianary had been far too popular to be shot so they had transferred him off to garrison duty. Because they were clan kin she could confided to him her suspicions and what she wanted to do about it. The Avianary listened in silence. His eyes did dilate some when she brought up the interrogators. As she finished she asked, " Well Kakkon what do you think? Nodding his head in a slow no the Avianary replied," With all due respect, madam you are crazy." Well she thought it wasn't the first time someone had pointed that out to her, she asked, "Possibly but will you help me?" The massive birdman blinked several times while giving his bill a gapping yawn. " I have ridden the whirl wind before but I have never been part of it. I have never been a storm maker. To make such a storm that the winds would sweep all the cliffs clean is the stuff of legends. How can I refuse the chance to be a legend, to have my song sung for generations to come among the nestlings? Tell me dear kinsmen what do you want done?" replied Kakkon. Relieved Starfield sat back in her chair. The reply was far more poetic than she had expected but a least she could depend on him. She began," I need a way to acquire top of the line weapons, ammunition and pieces of equipment that can be used to build a force field strong enough to protect us from being nuked, and I can't go through official channels obviously." she told him. Kakkon glanced at his sharpened talons and said, " There are exactly three things that soldiers will steal, borrow or forge orders for, illegal drugs, hard liquor and pornography," She looked at him, smiled and said " Brownies weren't the only old family recipe I inherited ." She hated to part with two of the few pieces of jewelry she owned but it took a fire stone pendant and string of blue-shy pearls to get the vats and tubing she needed. The first two batches were only useful as toxic waste. On the third try her still turned out stuff that would melt most high grade plastics, not exactly fine liqueur. She wondered maybe she should use it as fuel or an explosive. Kakkon told her she needn't worry most of the planet's personnel stayed half sloshed on actual fuel, white lightning was a vast improvement.

She knew things were going way too smoothly, when she received some disturbing information. Commander Decaron had sent her a list of spies she had expected to see Sasha, Kakkon and a few other names because they weren't human. What she didn't expect was to see Krakkon's name on Colonel Savage's list. The morning after she received Colonel Ravage's list, she invited Kakkon to her office for morning tea. She had done this quite often so Kakkon was not alarmed as he sat nibbling the edges of a sweet pastry stuffed with figs, his favorite. She touched the glass sphere activating the interference field, Kakkon couldn't see the laser pistol resting on her lap. "Sergeant Kakkon, do you remember the list of informants I was expecting from Colonel Savage? His bill full of pastry, the Avianary nodded yes. She continued sweetly, "Can you explain to me why both Colonel Savage and Commander Decaron have you listed as an informant? By this time the green feathered Avianary had emptied his beak. He cleared his throat. and said, "At one time or the other I have sold information to the highest bidder." "That is what I thought, " Captain Starfield said, still smiling. "So tell me who has offered you the most for information on me," and then losing her smile she continued, "And what exactly have you told them." She gazed at him, waiting for an answer as she slipped her left hand around the grip of her laser pistol. She had made carefully calculations, if necessary she could fire through the table and burn out his heart before he could move. "I have received generous offers from a variety of sources, which I have accepted. But I have not given out any information that would reveal your true motives." said the birdman. She glared at the birdman, it must be something in the bloodline because it sounded exactly like the stuff Karrack would try and pull. She had broke him of it at least with her but she didn't have two years to work on this guy! "You will give me a detailed report of every contact you have made since you have been posted here. I want to know what you have said, to who and when you said it. I want to know who has paid you and what they expect. I want all of this information in one hour you are dismissed." After the Avianary left her office she called the head guard station at the entrance and only exit of the warren. Her orders were simple, Kakkon was not allowed to leave the compound and if he tried to shoot him until he stopped moving. Kakkon was ex-commando so there was no reason for her guards to take any chances. She hoped Karrack wouldn't be too upset if she shot a clan member. Her stomach rolled, if I live through this I am going to retire, she thought. She needed to leave the military while she could still recognize herself in a mirror. In the end she decided to trust Kakkon, she needed him too much and his information proved quite illuminating. Together they carefully tweaked what he was telling his clients. The trick was to keep it close enough to the truth to be believable while at the same time telling the buyers what they wanted to hear.

By this time she had gathered together a five being group for her engineering staff, two men, Sasha, an old Saurian and short stocky Seth with bulldog ears. Each had their own reasons for hating the command staff some more obvious than others. In the middle of down shift the atmospheric regulator for the last level of cells had started to make noises that sounded suspiciously like a machine's death rattle. The result was that she found herself two hundred feet underground in tunnels barely five feet in height. She decided quickly that this part of the prison wasn't actually finished not only were the tunnels too small but the phosphorescent paint had been splattered and swiped in irregular patterns that left long stretches of darkness. Even more disturbing was the fact that some of the walls hadn't been sealed to prevent the loss of atmosphere. She found two of her engineers locked in battle with the dying regulator. She had managed enough technical staff to know to wait until one of them looked up before asking, "Can it be repaired? The last shipment of parts from the engineering division contained two complete systems. I had hope to put those into use in the upper tunnels and rotate an older model to this area which is less demanding." The short stocky Seth with well chewed ears looked up and growled, "Lovely plan if the universe would just cooperate." His fur was a riot of orange and red stripes broken by streaks of white. Next to him in the shadows was his buddy an aged and cagey Saurian whose dull brown scales were laced with enough scars that his muzzle and neck ridges looked striped. As she watched the Suarian stood up and backed away from the regulator. Its tail tip flexed against the rock floor in agitation. The Suarian's yellow eyes stood out in stark relief to the darkness. "Captain Starfield ," it hissed, "Did I not see two new level one thousand actuators among the latest equipment manifest. The actuator could be used to bypass most of the failing parts of this regulator." Starfield step back into the light and said, "Both of you come here." Her engineers complied although the Seth's heavy sigh ill disguised at least one softly growled obscenity. " Do you know why I went to a great deal of trouble to get both of you out of the brig and onto my engineering staff," she asked. Her only answer was the fixed stare by the Saurian, the Seth was looking at its right hand claws but its ears quivered in her direction. "Both of you are experienced in maintaining a variety of ship-based force fields. It is the absolute utmost imperative that you apply this expertise to construct a force field of at least level 5 magnitude. Failure to do so will result in Warren 342 being reduced to a rather large crater surrounded by organic ash." The Seth finally looked at her with red eyes in a tiger striped face its muzzle wrinkled with derision as it said "Are you expecting an assault by the Unifcation?" She looked hard into his eyes and said, "Actually I am expecting the administration to make a determined effort to nuke us out of existence, " The saurian its head lowered and tail whipping back and forth almost level with its hips, hissed in growl speak, "They would have to be either very angry or very afraid to do such a thing." The Seth its fur standing on end barked, "You will get us all killed," Captain Starfield took a moment before replying, she made sure to look each one in the eye . "Tell me of the six years you have been stationed in this cesspool how many have you actually lived? Would you rather spend the rest of your existence in this pit or risk a clean death for a chance at a victory?" The Saurian stepped closer on tip toes, it closed its mouth and hissed then in almost a whisper asked, "What is victory?" "Every single officer in command responsible for the Citadel will suffer painful, slow and official deaths," she said. The Seth's ears quivered as it whispered ,"Revenge?" "Oh yea, big time and their friends will do them no good," she continued , "You have been with me only a few days but you both are experienced soldiers able to judge the mettle of those around you including officers. Do you think I am a naive idealist or that I would come against such odds unless my armory was deep and well stocked? Do you think it is an accident that I am here?" The Seth looked at her and then the regulator, "What of the regulator? he asked. "If it is within your skill to do so repair it. If it can not be repaired we will move the few prisoners on this level to the next level and seal this area. Your time and energy must be devoted to the construction of the force field generator. I will not design its construction or stand over you and tell you what to do. This is you area of expertise, it is your lives as well as mine that depend on it. If I have failed to procure a part we need for its construction please let me know as soon as you are aware of this, even if it is in the middle of my sleep cycle. I assure you I will get the part you need if I have to take it from between Decaron's teeth." As she left the aliens watched silently their mouths still open. After a moment of silence, the Seth looked at the ancient Saurian and snarled, "She is either very crazy or very powerful. " The Saurian's clawed finger dug at a spot between two inch long incisors and replied, "It has been my observation that the very powerful are often insane and that insanity can bring victory when all else fails."

In the end the level was closed and the few prisoners on it moved to higher levels. There was plenty of room for them. One of her first commands had been to remove all the dead prisoners from the cells where they had been left to decompose. What kind of sick minds left corpses in cells and tried to starve former comrades into cannibalism? The condition of the prisoners improved as sanitary regulations were followed and diets strictly regulated. She began to run the guards through group maneuvers. She also began to exercise select groups of prisoners. The prison was repaired and reinforced wherever and whenever possible. This kind of activity was so unusual that she spent a extra ordinate amount of time giving non-threatening explanations for her efforts. Strangely enough a coy, " Well I can't help myself, the place is sooo dirty, or I am just giving it a woman's touch, or an appeal to her female nesting instinct went over where " I am meeting official specifications 19345,20945, etc,,," did not. The whole thing was wearing. Amber had never considered herself a feminist ardent or otherwise but after three weeks of this she was ready to form a group, hold marches and burn undergarments!

By the time she had been on Garrison for six weeks, she was close to accomplishing her goals. The force shield would soon be finished. She had gathered a decent fighting force whose loyalty was based on a mutual hatred of all things Planet Garrison. But she had imported a lot of personnel, the odds were that some of them would betray her. She knew that something was not right with Sasha. But there was so much machinery desperately in need of either repair or replacement that their paths rarely crossed. Yet when that did happen she was left with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach and a voice screaming in her head that she had forgotten something very important. She was inspecting the now deepest functioning cell level. She had ordered the glowing paint sprayed with a tint in all the cells and most of the hallways. This made the level dim enough for prisoners of nocturnal species with sensitive light organs. She had also adjusted the temperature and humidity to provide a warm moist environment. It was very close to steam bath levels which made it torture for any guards of Avianary, Seth species and most humans. The Saurians however thought of it as a resort and serious fighting had broken out on who was going to get guard duty. Strikez had used rotation to this level as a reward for excellent performance. She however did not have enough Saurian guards to change the environment on another level. She had moved those who were recovering from illness or injury and needed the heat and moisture into the level's cells taking care to avoid crowding. The exception was the lone Crabicon, Amber planned to convert two cells into one and have one converted to a swallow pool. Tmogoth was his name had not complained but she knew that as an amphibious species he had suffered greatly in the dry prison environments. Strikez had left her to bring back the latest status report on recovering prisoners. She walked slowly through corridors stopping at cells when the prisoners wanted to talk. The last thing she expected to see was a panting Sasha coming out of the lift. Sasha had a atmospheric tank on her back and breather for her species dangling from her collar. Whatever instincts Amber had for self-preservation had apparently took the night off because without thinking she walked right up to the Seth and innocently asked. "Sasha, what are you doing here?" The Seth bark screamed, Starfield thinking she had frightened her started to say something calming. Sasha tore her atmospheric tank from her back and flung it into Starfield's face. Caught completely off guard she took the full force of the blow to her head knocking her to the floor. Before she could think to react the female Seth landed on her driving all breath from her lungs. Sasha was snarling and crying at the same time, she picked up the tank , screaming "I had to do it , he made me do it, ". Howling in pain she lifted the tank above her head . Tears flowed from her eyes, her words were choked in sobs , "Better off dead, no one would kill me, I will kill you. I will save you." Suddenly a scream and the weight was gone the sound of the tank crashing against a wall. Amber couldn't see, there was something warm and wet in her eyes. It was heard to breath, she tried to sit up. A scaled hand held her chest to the ground, "Captain, please be still, you are bleeding, a head injury, do not move." She recognized the voice, Strikez. She tasted warm salty fluid on her lips as she asked 'Sasha, what happened to Sasha?" She heard the fangs she could not see, "She is not conscious, her neck is broken," growled the Saurian. Starfield's breathe came in shudders an tears slipped from the side of her eyes. "Strikez, let her live" Starfield gasped. Strikez hissed softly ,"The medics are almost here". The rest was a blur of voices, pain and then darkness.

Starfield came to in her warren's medical wing. Kakkon and Strikez were having a very loud discussion. Kakkon shrilled that Stikez was a reject from a pack of scavangeners. Strike hissed something about screeching vultures. "Shut up both of you," she shouted an gasped in pain from the worst headache in the history of the universe. Between gritted teeth she asked each word making the pain in her head vibrate, "Status please, quietly." Kakkon sang soft an low , "The lower level was searched but nothing found, her quarters contained a small communicator just powerful enough to carry outside the wall on a low frequency not normally used." "Outside look for tracks " she stopped to breathe and gasped in pain. Strikez hissed softly, "Captain you have a concussion, the medical center in the administration is far more advanced, please let me call them." "NEVER GIVE ME TO THEM," she said between gritted teeth. It took what strength she had left to finish saying , "Would you have me wind up like Sasha?" A look of horror came into Strikez eyes, answer enough. Somehow by the end of the following day she had managed in a halting fashion gasping in pain to get orders out. The guards went carefully through all the empty cells, anything found that was not instantly recognizable was to be checked out by one of the ex-commandos. The remaining engineering staff went over everything Sasha was working on or could have touched. Kakkon appalled by the fact she had almost been killed insisted that Captain Starfield should have two body guards at all times. Despite the deep misgivings of her candy striped Seth medic she carefully leverage herself out of the bed and nearly onto the floor, as the room took up waltzing for a hobby. She compromised on being pushed around slowly in a wheel chair with the medic on call nearby. First she had to see Sasha, two corridors down in medical prison section. Sasha was strapped down on the bed, her neck and head locked in a brace that prevented any movement. Although the Seth was heavily sedated little whines and whimper noises would escape from her muzzle. Bad dreams , Sash was trapped in a nightmare awake or asleep, Amber thought. Her Seth medic stood close by, she looked into gold eyes set in a white face with pink and green stripes. "Can you help her "she asked. "God can help her," said the medic, "all I can do is keep her heavily sedated. If she struggles the broken bones in her neck will cut vital nerves. If she remains sedated for too long she will simply stop breathing. I am not a doctor , this is not a hospital. Those are at headquarters." "No," Starfield said softly," I will not give her back into their hands, if she lives long enough I will get her help, if she dies she is better off than living if we lose. The responsibility is mine but do the best you can." she added then one of her new guards turned her chair , pushing her slowly down the pale empty hallway.

The following day during her afternoon tea, Kakkon reported the results of a warren wide search. "There were tracks of a small threader in the dust that disappeared into a rock filled basin. An attack unit was set to patrol the area, if the threader comes out of hiding we will know of it. The engineers discovered that two parts that governed the power coils of the force field unit were missing and the governor adjusted to give a false correct reading. Nothing else was found in the machinery or the warren itself." finished the Avianary. Starfield spoke in a small tired voice, "I am deeply disturbed that nothing was found on the lowest level. Sasha wasn't down there for an afternoon stroll, her extreme reaction at being caught leaving the area implies its importance." she paused. "It was so obvious what was going on, I don't know how I missed it, I , we can't afford any more mistakes like this." She swallowed and tears came to her eyes. Kakkon, who of late had no appetite prodded a fig pastry with a green scaled finger and asked "I don't understand what you are saying. Why would you expect Sash's treachery? She had more reason to hate Ravage and Decaron than any of us." "I failed because I missed the obvious, Sasha wasn't just hurt, she was broken, her will and spirit completely crushed. The only way she could survive was by becoming one with her tormenter. She had no will of her own left, I should of seen it coming from orbit. I pray to God that I haven't made any other mistakes like this one or we are all far worse than dead." Taking several deep breathes she finished by saying " Weld shut the doors that lead into that last level that will have to do until we know more."

The rest of her command were left to believe that her injuries were result of an assassination attempt by someone sent by the command staff. This in itself endeared her to those who had before been more or less just doing their job. The next morning she received a call from Commander Decaron concerned that she had been in some sort of accident and that she was in the infirmary. She took off her top and wrapped a towels around her bust and head. Splashed herself with water to make her skin wet and answered the view phone. "Decaron, sir I am sorry that I took the so long to answer the phone but I was in the water shower in my quarters. " she said wincing with pain from the weight of the towel on her head. "Amber are you all right? I heard that you had been injured, but the medic refused to answer my questions or I would not have disturbed you," he asked with a look of genuine concern upon his face. Starfield wasn't moved she always gave members of her own species credit for acting abilities at least as good as her own. Shyly she lowered her eyes with embarrassment, "Actually sir I have been ill, staying close to my quarters but the reason I asked the medic not to say anything was because it is a female problem." Puzzled Decaron asked "A female problem?" "When I was hospitalized for my, my problem on board the Spacecarrier the medics took me off of all chemicals in my blood stream including contraceptives. I am having a very bad time with my menstrual flow, and cramps. I don't want anyone especially the aliens to know. I am sure they will see it as a weakness. Please don't tell any one, I'll just let them think I fell and bumped my head. I don't know what I am going to do next month if its this bad again." The look of pain on her face wasn't in the least faked.

Every time, and any where the interrogators, or the citadel had come up in conversation with other officers or enlisted, the tiny tape recorder, and video recorder she wore was turned on. She had gathered together an expansive array of detail. It filled an entire foot locker. That in itself was a problem, something that large couldn't be hidden. She had already transferred most of her evidence to small easily hidden data disks, but most of it was hearsay. It could no longer be avoid. Just two days after her injury with deep misgivings she accepted Commander Decaron's invitation to tour his Citadel. .

The Citadel, words spoken with so much fear on the surface looked like any other warren even hers. As you passed through the entrance and began to walk through the halls the first thing you notices was how spotless clean it was, completely immaculate. The environmentals were set to make the air cool, crisp in absence of humidity, quite pleasant for humans. It looked and felt like a medical center. It had been a medical center once. They walked past cells with new arrivals four foot high insectoids backed against the far wall. They huddled together their antennae quivering in fear. The tour went through back rooms where caprice and leather were converted to jewelry and other useful items. They walked past rows of shelves stacked from floor to ceiling. She stopped once and picked up a pair of goblets. The goblets were small with long thin stems almost the length of her hand. The look was beautiful blue stained glass. Amber looked at Decaron ,"These are beautiful," she said. "Oh yes, a very popular item, very fragile I will have a set shipped to your warren for you, my dear" beamed her escort. He did have perfect teeth not at all unattractive for a human male whose hair had reach a natural gray state. He was quite charming a fact that frightened Amber more by the minute. Innocently she asked, "How were these made?" Smiling Decaron replied,"Actually the process is quite simple once we worked out our system. The trick is to remove the antenna before our guest expires. It is only while the host is living that it is strong enough to withstand been pulled out from cranial nerves. It is a tedious process because it must be done slowly to avoid breaking the fragile shell. Once however it has been torn loose, it is carefully placed in an acid bath that removes all the soft nerve tissues. Then its is covered in sealant to preserve it beauty and sealed on one end." Amber who by this time was quite pale, said "How lovely," and gently returned the sensory organs of an insectoid who had been tortured to death to their resting place. Decaron had already mentioned that after the tour, they would be having a seven course dinner in his suite. She had no idea how she could possibly avoid winding up as desert. Then her host actually solved the problem for her. They entered a room where a prisoner was undergoing questioning. She could not make out what species they had strapped to an operating table. Even later when the film was viewed she only glanced at it long enough to confirm its accuracy. Four soldiers in Interrogator uniforms wearing black hoods, were peeling strips of flesh from something humanoid. Grey blood dripped on the floor and splattered the black uniforms as the creature writhed in pain. Walking into that scene was Commander Decaron, smiling, explaining that this was practice for his men, therefore the vocal cords had been severed so its screams wouldn't interfere with their concentration. It was at this point that Amber lost her lunch, breakfast and in all probability the previous night's supper. She shuddered on her way home from his base, not from the scene she had just witnessed. But from remembering the look in Decaron's eyes as he had watched her vomit convulsively until only dry heaves were left. It was a look of pure genuine pleasure at her discomfort. She quietly made a vow to keep poison on her person. These people would never take her alive.

***

Chapter Fourteen

It was early the next morning before dawn cycle when her communicator sounded in the middle of a dreamless restless sleep. It was Kakkon, during a routine search of a supply transport two of her guards had found a stowaway. "What has been done so far," she asked as she grabbed the uniform she had laid out the previous evening. Kraken's high bass came clearly through the communicator, "At this moment the guards are watching it from about a dozen yards, it is apparently injured and unarmed. I have sent an escort to the insectoid group cells to try and find an interpreter." "Did you every locate the equivalent of a medic for the insectoids?" she continue as by this time she was strapping up her left boot. There was burr clacking noise that she knew was a expression of disgust before her aide continued, "Apparently medical staff did not survive screening through the citadel." Starfield cursed under her breath as she finished her right boot and stood up, " Have the a couple of guards grab anyone who at least knows insectoid first aid, I don't care if it was from the Unification version of grub scouts. I will meet you there in three minutes." She rushed to the area to find a three foot long ant crumbled up in a tiny corner space between several shipping containers. The hard exoskeleton of its body was laced with dozens of cracks that seeped a deep blue blood. It was dying but the mandibles twitched as the small insectoid struggled to keep its respiratory system working. It wore no encoder and none of this species were among her prisoners. Still talking softly Starfield approached the alien. "Its alright, I only want to help you.", she said as she bent down an took the quivering insect into her arms. Carefully she carried it into the dispensary and tried to lay it on a operating table. It struggled weakly, the back finger thin legs pushing against her body in terror. "Ok, ok, stop you are hurting yourself, I won't put you there ." she said backing away from the table. She stood frozen holding it next to her, not sure what to do. A green gray Suarian guard loped in closely followed by a mantiod. The four foot pale green praying mantis, clicked "It doesn't understand." Starfield said , "It will take another thirty minutes to get an encoder set to her species. I don't know what we can do to help but she is wasting what life energy she has left. Please do what you need to calm her down. If you can speak her language please explain that I want to help and that I won't hurt it. If you know any first aid please advise me immediately!" Thricak slipped a pincer up to the encoder on its chest and clicked it off, then it moved to stand next to Starfield. It sang to the struggling ant being in clicks, chirps, whistles and sounds Starfield couldn't hear. The insectoid stopped struggling and lay very still. The Manitiod clicked its encoder back on an began to speak, " She is dying, I do not think, she can be saved but it might help if you could seal the cracks in the carapace." There was a hiss growl behind her and Amber turned to the two Saurian guards at the entrance. "Captain." the closest one hissed "Would it help the beastie to go down to the lowest level were its warm and the airs not so dry?" Starfield turned backed and looked at her interrupter, "Yes a most excellent idea, soldier," clicked Thricak. "Soldier, you are a genius," Starfield said as she began carefully carrying her charge to the lowest level. She sent one guard ahead to find a suitable cell while the second guard helped Thricak gather medical supplies for the injured insectoid. She also sent for her Suarian engineer who met her as she stepped out of the inter-level lift. "How am I supposed to do tri-dimensional field equations in my head with no sleep ," he hissed at her. Then stopped after he saw the bleeding alien. "Sagoth can the sealant or any other compound in the warren be adapted to seal the cracks in her shell without poisoning her blood." she asked Sagoth weaved his head and said ," I , I don't know." "Please talk to Thricak and come up with something helpful if at all possible. The old Suarian shook his muzzle and mummered ,"First I have to make force fields appear out of thin air now she wants me to raise the dead." By now Starfield had entered the opened cell and was laying the quivering insect on clean bedding that had been brought for her. She stood up as the Basilisk, Captain Rijit entered the cell. She turned to the five foot tall reptile and asked "Have you been briefed on the situation?" "Yes, Captain Starfield, "replied the prisoner's commanding officer as a chorus of chirps, clicks and whistles came from the surrounding cells. The Basilisk did not need an encoder and spoke several common insectoid tongues of the Unification. He listened for a moment and said "Captain Starfield, the others want us to do nothing, to let her die as quickly as possible." Stunned Starfield said , "Why? I only want to help." The scaled reptile tilted his head to look up into her eyes and said, " I believe you, but you do not rule this hive. The others will come for her, to hurt her, death is her only hope." Starfield wiped blue blood from her hands to her uniform and walked away. Rijit was right, they were all right of course. To let her die and give the remains to the interrogators who were surely tracking their prisoner even now. It could also be some sort of trick, a test by Decaron to see what she would do. If they got here before the insect expired, it would only take scant seconds to give her something instantly fatal. They were right and it was logical, but it was also wrong as hell. "Sagoth, tell me how long before that force shield is ready," she asked. The Saurian brought his left hand to his mouth and chewed on his own claws a few seconds before answering , "Two days, we need two more days, Captain." "Captain Rijit for the benefit of those do not have encoders, please bring in six who do to translate what I am about to say" she said. Then she waited the hardest part now that she made her decision. Once a few new arrivals insured that her words would be translated to all those around her. Starfield walked into the center of the aisle so the insectoids crowded to the front of their ceils could see her. "Strekiz," she said, "May I have your spur knife, please." The slim Suarian reached to the hilt just above his spur and unlatched a small knife with a blade two inches long and half as wide. Almost an ornament, except the compost of the knife would cut even armor alloy and the edge could slice stone. With the knife in one hand she stretched out her arms with her hands raised above shoulder level. As her guards and enemies watched she drove the knife through the palm of her right hand. Alarmed , Strikez called out , "Captain!" Then she walked down the corridor to the end, turned and walked to the other end so every being in each cell could see the knife had truly pierced her hand and it was human blood , red blood that dripped to the floor. Then she stopped in front of the wide eye Rijit and said, " I give you my most solemn word that as long as I live none of you will every be brought to the citadel again. As long as there is life in me I will not allow a prisoner or anyone of my command to be taken there. I will fight to the death to stop them. If I will do this to my own hand imagine what I will do to my enemies." Now she waited gritting her teeth against the pain as the initial shock had worn off and every nerve in her hand screamed for solace and attention. No one said anything the Manitoid bent over the injured insectoid and began cleaning its carapace. Sagoth cleared his throat and said, "Madame Captain, I need to get some supplies in engineering ." He left, Starfield sighed and soon followed him with Strikez beside her into the lift. As the lift rose toward command level he asked, "When the trackers come? " She spoke as she concentrated on wrapping her hand, her medic's fur was going to gray when she showed him this. "We have dozens of dead that I had pulled out of the cells, ask Rijit first but I think it will be ok if we take a few wing casings bits of broken carapace put them on one of the guides for the supply lift. Try to scrape up a few drops of that poor creatures blood off the floor. Maybe we can make them believe that it ran and fell underneath the machinery. It won't stand up to a real analysis but it will buy us time. If we have anyone you trust on leave, bring them back immediately. It would also be an excellent time to give leave to those you believe can not be trusted in a fight. No, No, don't look at me like that, I am not asking you screen the whole warren just people you know about. I am going to tell Kakkon and a few others the same thing so please breathe!" The Suarian turned his head to face away from her, quietly he said," It will be an honor to die fighting by your side." Starfield took a deep breathe she was beginning to feel lightheaded. "Strikez, a great human general once said "A soldier's job was not to die for his command, but to make the enemy die for theirs." The enemies you kill will be the lucky ones, I intend to survive this battle if you have other plans you will have to go without me." Blinking back tears of pain she laughed. Softly the Saurian said, "No , Captain, I will not leave your command." Several hours later her hand was properly bandaged, with medical cement holding the wound closed and a localized pain killer that kept her head clear but made her hand a dead weight in sling around her neck. None of which helped the knot in her stomach. By that time a squad of Commander Decaron's troops with breathers were at the above ground gates to her compound. Demanding to inspect any containers she had received in the last twenty-four hours. She sent Kakkon to give them the song and dance about finding the insectoid just as it drug itself under the moving tracks of a supply lift. They gathered up the remains with a scoop and left the prison after only an hour. This in itself made her suspicious , that was just too easy. She put the command on alert, and prepared for the worst.

The following morning General Sloff paid her warren a surprise inspection. She greeted him alert and ready with her right hand still covered in its bandage. The inspection revealed gleaming weapon's racks, reinforced walls, alert prisoners guarded by soldiers who bore more than a passing resemblance to crack commando troops. The general had been uncharacteristically quite during his inspection. When they finally had returned to the surface area, General Sloff spoke. " I am impressed, I had no idea you were so talented. Such energy is wasted on such a tiny, insignificant post. I want you to return with me to headquarters for a promotion. You can send someone for your things later." Starfield smiled, I knew he wasn't stupid she thought. "Sir, I don't know what to say I am so honored but may I please be allowed to pack first ?" she said. At the moment Sloff had four human guards with him, they moved their laser rifles so that the muzzles tilted slightly in her direction. Unfortunately for them, the guards and Sloff had made the mistake of facing in only in her direction. They did not see Kakkon, and about a dozen of her people slipping up behind them. Suddenly her hands raised in a pleading gesture Starfield moved toward General Sloff, "Please sir, it will only take a couple minutes." Her moment startled the guards who crowded forward to protect the general. They neither saw nor heard what slammed them to the ground. Sloff backed away from the attackers, breathing hard his face red, "What , What is the meaning of this?" he gasped. Starfield faced him and said, "By the authority granted an officer of the order of blue blood, I hereby arrest you for gross misuse of your commission and abuse of your post. I could quote a list of regulations that you have broken but I don't want to stand out here for the next three hours. " The general did manage to get out a startled "Order of the Blue Blood?!" before being towed away by her guards. Yea, order of the Blue Blood, she thought finally a medal actually came in good for something after all. She walked over to Kakkon, saying "We are now at war." Kakkon snapped his bill together twice before replying, "Oh and how is that different from yesterday?" Starfield smiled saying "Please don't make me laugh between my head and my hand I don't think I can handle it. You have your orders." In the distance she could hear a now hysterical Sloff making prophecies about her fate at the hands of Interrogator commander Decaron. "Kakkon, promise that you will do everything in your power to take both Savage and Decaron alive." she said to her aide. Puzzled his crest rose, "They both need killing." "Yes, I know but I just don't want them to die while they still want to live." she said. "Promise me," again she asked. Solemnly Kakkon reached inside his uniform and plucked a feather from his chest. Then he held out in his hand a deep green heart feather. Despite her best effort because of her bandage it was an awkward clumsy movement as she closed both hands on the feather. With her hands clasped in prayer she brought them to her forehead, "Thank you, " she said. She slipped the feather into a pocket on the inside of her uniform, just above her heart. Right next to the one she carried from Karrack and the Malacor's glitterstone ring. She then turned and walked to the closest lift. The trip down into the garrison's second level found three engineers sweating over the force field generator. "Please tell me that it's ready? "Sure," replied the red and orange striped Seth," but we would have to lie." "When will it be ready?" "At least another day" hissed the Sogoth. "Gentlemen, I do not know that we have a full day. I would not place my hopes on Decaron making any extended effort to recover his commanding officer. Nuking Warren 342 into radioactive dust would make an excellent object lesson to the surrounding encampments. Please move as quickly as possible." then she left. There was no point in staying she didn't know enough about 5 dimension intra -particle calculations to be useful and her presence might prove a distraction. She went into another room where non-related parts had been cobbled together into a working transmitter with just enough power to reach outside of Planet Garrison's atmosphere and into the star system beyond, but no more. There was no miracle she could find that would allow her to reach out further. Would there be anyone out there she could talk to who might relay a message? The transmitter would be jammed within minutes of being turned on, but she had to at least try.

By dawn the next morning prison guards and junior officers in armor and breathers surrounded her warren . The dome had three large airlock gates to the surface that had to be defended and the dome itself would collapse if it took enough heavy artillery fire causing heavy casualties. Unfortunately for the soldiers ordered to attack her warren Starfield had been expecting this. She waited as long as she could, letting her men return fire from behind ports designed for that purpose. The first barrage had little effect on the warren's reinforced walls. Then someone somewhere apparently found an armory. When the troops began lining up with fusion launchers, she could not wait any longer. At her command a sequence of explosions began a hundred yards away from her warren. Nothing escaped her carefully calculated kill zone. Death was delivered by a combination of pure fuel that burned in the absence of atmosphere, explosives for burrowing tunnels and some ancient unstable shrapnel grenades. It was a massacre, most of those on the battle front had been sent out in flimsy environmental suits and breathers. Even the few officers in low grade armor panicked as the liquid flame that covered everything and ran right into explosions that tore through armor designed to deflect laser fire not projectiles. Starfield turned away from the carnage that was reflected on the warren's parameter screens and went to see her engineers. She stepped through the door long enough to urge all due haste, "Gentle beings, time is running out." It wouldn't take Commander Decaron long to realize that a frontal assault would be a blood bath but more important so would everyone else on Planet Garrison. She doubted if he would be able to gather enough recruits for another assault even if he wanted to. His next option would be a nuclear one. There had been a few survivors, even a few more troops gathered just outside the kill zone. No one moved through area where the bodies lay scattered and patches of ground still burned with fuel reserves.

Even though her communication equipment had been unable to contact any outside help it did provide an excellent pick up of interplanetary communication. Commander Decaron didn't even bother with encryption or codes. When her men brought news of the surrounding troops being ordered to pull back, Starfield began to perspire. She sat quietly in her quarters repeating several lengthy prayers. The amount of time from the head engineer throwing the power switch and giving an all clear signal on the force field and the first distinct thunder an exploding nuclear device was measured in scant minutes. It was the first time that Starfield actually took a swallow of her white lightening. It took three nuclear strikes before Commander Decaron realized that he was wasting his time and radiating the area for no good reason.

At first Commander Decaron was furious, it hadn't actually surprised him that he had sent two hundred soldiers to their deaths. He suspected almost from the moment he had met her that the woman was dangerous. He had looked forward to breaking her with great relish, he had been so bored of late. He would of seduced and humiliated her then broken her will and body. Why should Ravage have all the fun? The nuclear strike would have deprived of him of his pleasures but would make a nice object lesson to the rest of the personnel. But then he realized it was much better this way, he would request combat troops to put down a mutiny. He would of course be given any prisoners for trial and execution since it was his command. Yes it was still possible that sweet Starfield would be taken alive and given to him. His message was flagged to high command as always, and he soon had his answer. Commander Decaron looked at transcripts with delight this was far better than he had hoped, there happened to be three troop carriers within a dozen star systems. Apparently they were part of a Spacecarrier group that were passing through the Daggar quadrant. The nearest carrier would be on Planet Garrison in two hours. When the high command informed him of what was on the way the Commander Decaron smiled. The garrisons resistance would be crushed quickly surely they would be able to take Starfield alive.

The troop carrier had screeched into Planet Garrisons orbit barely slowing down to landing speed. She had tried to open communications to the ship but had received no response. It came in at an angle sharp enough to cut, swung wide and set done on ground that still glowed from nuclear denotation. The combat troops came out of their ship in heavy armor moving in a single line each armed with a fusion cannon. Nearly a hundred, very much serious over kill, she thought. She recognized them even in the heavy armor. It wasn't hard even in the Alliance there were few four armed species the size of grizzly bears. Strikez looked at the screen and hissed , "When should we fire?" "Fire?!, under no circumstances is anyone to so much as sneeze in their direction. Those are Vorn down there, once they go on a rampage there will be no reasoning with them. You have not seen temper to you have seen an enraged Vorn." she said. "Get out there now and make sure everyone understands this, pull back from the ports, do not point any weapons at them. Do not even lock targeting systems on them." she added as she headed out under the dome and toward the nearest air lock. Kakkon thrilled " But what about attacks by Decaron's troops." "The Vorn will not let anyone interfere with a meal, mating or a battle. No one is coming near us but them, this could be very good news as long as no one starts a battle." The Avianary's crest feathers stood straight up "Good News?!", he exclaimed. "There is no time to explain , I need you out there now unarmed with a flag of truce. Tell them that your leader must speak to their leader , if he asks where say under a flag of truce inside the warren. Understand do not add or subtract from that statement, then turn around and walk back inside. Do not look back or make any sudden movements." Starfield had by this time found Krakkon's environmental suit and was holding it out for him. He starred at her. She touched her chest were his feather was kept and said, "Please Kakkon trust me, just do this now. I would go myself but it wouldn't work. It isn't their custom please I will explain later." Kakkon went although from the look on his face and his slow determined walk across that empty glowing crater, Starfield knew he expected to ionized into subatomic particles at any moment. When her aide returned he was followed by a form nearly eight feet tall in heavy armor.

Captain Starfield waited in the center of the domed area as the huge form moved toward her. By the time the Vorn troop leader reached her he had removed his helmet so they might speak directly. Barely opening its mouth the Vorn spoke through its teeth, saying, "I am Magog, leader of troop ship "Crush". Surrender at once or we will kill all within this place." "I am Captain Amber Starfield, leader of Warren 342 all in this place are under my protection. If I am to die so be it but first I wish to send a message to the one who protects me. Sergeant First Class Trog of the Troncon Clan." The Vorn roared and beat its chest with the lower set of arms. Magog stepped forward and moved to lower his head enough to look into her eyes, roaring it said, "You claim protection by a Vorn." Starfield had not flinched even when the Vorn's snarling muzzle had come close enough to bite her face off. "The last I heard which was only six weeks ago, Trog was stationed on the Spacecarrier Aeagon." she said. She could see to the side of the Vorn and knew from the expression on their faces that her guards were convinced that she might be eaten at any moment by the furious Vorn. She knew better, the Vorn was not angry, in fact he was delighted. The prospect and honor of dueling another leader was far more interesting than tearing apart a nest full of soft subordinate species and enemy aliens that had already been chewed on and spit out. Vorn custom would prevent him from attacking the warren until he had challenged and fought her protector. If Trog lost there would not be anything left of her command for anyone to torture. When he received the news that the Vorn troops had returned to the carrier, Commander Decaron went to the transmitter demanding to speak to their leader. "You have your orders, crush the mutiny and bring me the prisoners especially their leader Captain Starfield" roared Decaron into the transmitter. Unfortunately Magog took this as a challenge , no one out roars a Vorn. The volume of his reply shattered delicate speakers and fried internal components as he roared back an answer. Commander Decaron didn't understand, what did Magog mean it was a Vorn matter and Vorn did not make prisoners of Vorn. It didn't make any sense and to make matters worse the Vorn refused to let any of his remaining troops come near the warren.

When Sergeant Trog was summoned to the intergalactic communicator aboard the Spacecarrier, he wasn't sure of what to expect but anything had to be better than this boring guard duty. When Magog issued forth a formal challenge over his protection of Starfield, Trog was positively thrilled. " I , Sergeant Trog do accept your challenge, I am coming," roared the Vorn, then he signed off. The Trog lumbered out of the communication chamber and spun with surprising grace in the direction of nearest ship traffic control unit. He needed transportation off the carrier now! Growling in delight the Vorn muttered, "I can't believe it, I don't know how that little human does it but she always manages to find a good fight." A quick check of flight plans revealed one huge space cruiser with ultra- high priority preparing for take off directly to Planet Garrison. In full battle armor, carrying the standard battle gear (grenades, missiles, fusion cannon) Sergeant Trog jogged straight up the ship's gang plank. "I am boarding this ship", rumbled the Vorn in tones that had nothing to do with requests. The Interrogator looked up from his list of supplies and said "Yes I know, we've been waiting for you, your quarters have already been prepared" It was a very puzzled Vorn that made his way into the ship. Commander Decaron who was not a patient man, sent out a request for another troop carrier. Several times different troop carries made inquires but once they learned there were a ship full of Vorn already on the surface they rapidly declined his request for aid. The one exception was a troop carrier full of Wagner, who made orbit around the planet. Commander Decaron's enthusiasm was soon lost when his communications people told him the carrier was ignoring their signal and in communication with Starfield's warren. Captain Starfield had never been so glad to see such an ugly face in her whole life as when Staff Sergeant Starks mangled visage came onto her communicator screen. "No, please don't come down yet. I don't want to risk a battle between you and the Vorn." When Stark started raving about this perceived slight of all things Wagner. Starfield said, "Silence now! Did I say my concern was for the Wagner? Do as you are told, you have too many teeth to think clearly!" The Wagner closed his mouth and mewed like a kitten to the complete and utter astonishment of her communication staff. "Sergeant Stark, see that the carrier is prepared to launch a strike at the structure referred to as the Citadel. It is the one that houses the creature known as Commander Decaron see that he and his staff are taken alive. These are all guttural scum who do not deserve a clean death in battle do you understand? " The one eyed Wagner nodded yes and yawned showing hundreds of staggered fangs. "Before you do anything else please transmit a message to the Spacecarrier Aeagon for me, it is to go directly to First Commander Malacor. I am transmitting the message now, relay it until you get a reply from Malacor , then you can take the Citadel. Don't worry about the Vorn I have those already taken care of, OK?" with that she signed off. By this time there was a small crowd behind her. Strikez who had come in mid-transmission to make a report, hissed, "How, how could you talk to them like that and give them orders?" Starfield breathed a sigh of relief, it felt like the weight of the universe was lifting. "I will tell you another time Strikez, its a long story but technically I am his den mother so I can boss him around. " Finally she would be able to get through to Malacor, Decaron would not be able to block a communication beam from a combat ship. If he tried the Wagner would take that sort of thing real personal like.

***

Chapter Fifteen

Commander Decaron had no idea who this Malacor was but he had no need to worry. There were thousands of commanders in the fleet. His alliances and friends in high command would make short work of anyone who gave him any trouble. Then there were the special preparations he had ordered when Starfield started making all those repairs. If that Seth manic Ravage screwed this up he would have his balls for lunch. The Wagner signaled Starfield that they had made contact with Commander Malacor and that he was on his way. The Wagner ship then dropped down promptly close enough to the Citadel to vibrate walls even in a vacuum. Commander Decaron's soldiers were no match for a shipload of snarling fanged nightmares called Wagners. Most of the soldiers didn't even try but threw down their weapons and screamed surrender. The snarling Wagner tore through the Citadel's outer defense without breaking their run. They swarmed through the rooms slamming anyone foolish enough to resist into the floor hard enough to break bones. Decaron managed to fire off several shots before the Wagner dove through his firing zone and over his defenses. He didn't know that laser fire would sear but not penetrate those massive skulls. He was soon pinned to the floor by creatures who were all teeth and claws. Thanks to his earlier transmission the Wagner had no problem picking him out from his other troops. Commander Decaron was soon bound hand and foot and dragged into the troopship by Stark, as most of his combat unit made their prisoners secure. Decaron ranted about friends in High Command. He was doing a marvelous imitation of something that really needed to be eaten. It was only their den mother's request that he be taken alive that kept him in one piece, however no one had said that they had to be gentle.

A black ship nearly five times its size dropped down next to the Vorn troop carrier. The second ship was barely on the ground when a Vorn in battle armor leaped out of the opening hatch and headed toward the troop carrier. The duel took place inside the troop carrier so both Vorn could fight without armor or weapons. The fight was brutal and relatively long for fighting Vorn males in good health. It took almost ten minutes before Sergeant Trog managed to subdue Magog, making him the troop carrier's new leader. Since her life was in the balance the Vorn had allowed a live feed of the fight into the Warren's control room. Focused on the Vorn fight Starfield didn't notice the exterior screens as several figures in black armor came out of the giant dark ship, until a glint of gold flashed among them. Malacor was coming. "Black armor?" asked Kakkon. "Yes, real interrogators and First Commander Malacor. Please treat him with the greatest respect, tell him I will be right back." Starfield went out the communication room door. "Right back ?! , where are you going?" the Avianary thrilled. "I have to get something on the lowest level." " Strikez ", she called into her communicator, "meet me on the lowest level, now." Starfield raced for the elevator. By the time the lift doors opened to the lowest level Malacor was approaching the airlock with a dozen strike force soldiers behind him. She rushed through the corridors until she came to the Crabicon's cell at the far end of the level. It was the last in line, two units combined into one. She opened it and motioned for him to come out. The Crabicon' encoders translated vibrations and clicks that normally fell below her hearing. "How goes the battle?" She raised her arms above her head and shouted , "We won, We won , praise God, WE WON !" The surrounding cells filled with noise as even insectoids without translators were told what she had said. The Crabicon froze not knowing what to do, this was not the agreed upon code. "Oh, I am sorry , I forgot in my excitement. Tragoth shouldn't you molt soon?" she said. The Crabicon's encoder replied "I do not molt." Starfield finished by saying "You do molt in three months." At this Crabicon bent his left set of legs and placed one giant claw on the ground. Amber stepped carefully over the claw and reached into a small space create by a fold in the joint that fitted into his armored shell. She slipped her hand in up to the wrist and pulled out a small clear envelope that held a four tiny data disks. Carefully she folded the envelope and tucked it inside her boots housing. There was a noise, a metallic sound. Tools hitting metal, a noise that didn't belong here or now. Starfield turned to face the door at the end of the corridor and froze. What? The door had been welded shut, it opened into a stairwell that lead to the closed level, not thirty feet away. Suddenly the world changed as an explosion blew the door out of its frame. The steel door would have taken off her head but the explosion had already knocked her to the floor. The wind screamed as air poured through the opening into what had been a vacuum. The noise was so great she could not hear nor be heard. Starfield struggled to her feet bracing herself from the inside of the Crabion's cell. She drew her laser pistol and fired into the void at targets she could barely see in the dim light. She heard a snarl scream at a direct hit and knew it was a Seth she had hit. Laser fire flashed in the darkness too brilliant to see by. Starfield grasped as light seared through her thigh and she fell to the ground on her knees. She brought the pistol up to fire but it was too late as a Seth wearing a breather struck her across the face with the back of his hand slamming her into the cell bars. He stood on her gun hand and barked, "I have her." The Crabicon moved toward the Seth, who snarling said, "Any closer and I'll put a hole through her skull." The atmosphere spread across two levels left the air too thin for humanoid oxygen breathers. Starfield lay gasping for oxygen. By the time Ravage walked in from the last level she was unconscious. "Fool" he snarled "Put the breather on her, do you know what Decaron will do to us if we don't bring her back alive?" With his grey second in command guarding his back Savage carefully bound Starfield's hands and feet. Then he picked up the unconscious female and growled , "Lets go." Suddenly there was laser fire coming down the corridor, Strikez had arrived with a half dozen guards in breathers. Starfield had left her communication unit on send during the battle. Strikez spoke through his communicator on general broadcast, "Release Starfield and surrender you are surrounded." Ravage snarled, "Back off or the only thing I will surrender is a fresh corpse. I only take orders from Decaron." "Decaron is already a prisoner, the Citadel was captured less than an ten minutes ago." hissed Strikez. "Liar," growled Ravage. He held Starfield up carefully with one arm against his body, she made an excellent shield. Snarling "Stay back," the huge Seth stepped back into the stairwell followed by his aide. There was a tunnel dug by Sasha that intersected an old supply tunnel. Once there a waiting transporter would get them to safety. Everything had been carefully planned but as the Seth carried Starfield down the stairwell. The walls vibrated and loose rock fell from the ceiling. The air was too thin by now to actually carry noise but he knew what it was. His lips pulled back from his teeth, that cunning lizard had sent troops to blast their way inside from the entrance at the lift. It was on the other side of the level but armed reinforcements would soon be between them and their escape tunnel. He needed a distraction. "Tearon, move quickly to the tunnel, begin the start sequence on the transport, I will be behind you. They dare not follow too closely in the darkness for fear of injuring their precious captain." "At once , sir" snapped the aide as he ran into the darkness. Savage turned and went in the opposite direction, the plans for this level indicated an old room once used for storage of explosives. It was heavily armored with a reinforced door and one small ten inch square air vent. After he came into the room he laid the motionless female on the floor and set the door in its tracks locking the seals and cutting the power lines so it could not be opened from the other side. Now all he had to do was wait for the combat troops to overrun the warren and he would be picked up by Decaron. Decaron would be very pleased, he might even let him have Starfield after he finished with her. Although maybe he should ask for another reward , after Decaron finished with her, she wouldn't be any fun to play with. Starfield moved, fighting to regain consciousness. Blood was seeping from underneath her head onto the floor. Alarmed Ravage went to her side and pulled strands of hair away from a gash in her skull. It looked partially healed but now it was bleeding freely. Damn fool jackal , I told him not to hit her too hard. if she dies and Decaron blames me. Something close to a whimper escaped from between the Seth's teeth.

Malacor had not known what to expect when he came through the warren's air lock, but the last thing he expected was to find it deserted. Flanked by a dozen strike force units, the interrogator lord walked across the empty parade ground. Motion from tunnel entrance caused his men to swing into a protective formation. As a five foot mutilated Balisk in tattered Unification uniform, marched forward to stand trembling in front of him. The Balisk spoke, "I am Captain Rijit, senior officer of the prisoners of Warren 342, sir." The interrogator commander replied, "Where are your captors, where is Captain Starfield?" Even without its ruff or body fin the alien managed to look distressed, "Starfield has been kidnapped, her officers are in pursuit. I don't know any more than that, sir." Malacor tapped into his armor's communication grid, "Scan the area around the warren, look for moment or transports. " Then speaking to the trembling Rijit "Take me to the officer in command, now."

They had caught up with the gray Seth and captured both him and the transport. But there was no sign of Starfield or Ravage. Kakkon disabled the transport and left armed guards around it, Strikez had back tracked and held both entrances to the lowest level. Knowing that Savage's communicator would pick up any transmission the guards were using hand signals and touching helmets to communicate orders. The green Avariary meet the Suarian at the tunnels mid-section. The gray Seth was hand-cuffed, his communicator confiscated. There was blood around his muzzle from having been smacked into stone walls several times on the way in. Sergeant Karrack had had to restrain his men, they needed the Seth conscious. Strikez grabbed a gray furred throat and hissed, "Where is Starfield? Is there another tunnel? Speak if you value your life!" The battered Seth wrinkled its muzzle, showing teeth and bleeding gums. Panting it growled, "You will never make me talk." "Oh, but I will." came a dark voice. Strikez let go of his prisoner. Kakkon stood at attention. Malacor spoke, "You have been unable to locate Starfield and her kidnapper." "Yes sir, " Kakkon thrilled. Strikez hissed "We located an escape tunnel, transport and this one. Our prisoners told us that a gray Seth was with Ravage when he carried Starfield away." "Carried Starfield?" asked Malacor. "Yes sir, the witnesses said that she was injured and unconscious. Ravage still took time to bind her feet and hands before carrying her out." mournfully sang Kakkon. His tentacles twitching , Malacor spoke slowly, "A enemy broke into your prison, attacked and injured your commanding officer. Taking time to bind her and still you let him get away." The interrogator walked toward the gray Seth now held between two black armored soldiers. "Divide into four groups take one interrogator with each group. The interrogator will use their communication units since I assume that your units are compromised. Began a sweep of the level, first search all rooms then if Starfield is not found begin analysis of walls and floors for another tunnel" commanded Malacor. As he stepped closer to the gray Seth, Malacor slipped off one of his armored gloves. Karkkon turned to ask about the guards on the transport and froze. With the glove gone Malacor's hand had become a writhing mass of worms? No not worms thought Karkkon, tentacles with tiny claws. Stepping close so that the prisoner was held up against his armor, Malacor reached down with his ungloved hand. The Seth screamed. One of the guards reach up and grabbed the Seth behind his ears pulling his muzzle straight up. The Seth gagged and choked and begged screaming , screaming . Kakkon turned and ran through the corridor, questions forgotten. A short time later the interrogator in his sweep group announced, "The prisoner has decided to cooperate. There was only one tunnel dug into this level, there are no other escape routes." Kakkon asked, "He said nothing else, he has no idea of Savage's location?" The interrogator looked at him with mirror black eyes and said, "Anything he knew we now know. He has been begging to die but we do not take requests." As Malacor slipped his glove back on he sent a transmission to his senior guard in the lead sweep group, "Are scanning sensors proving at all useful?" "Negative, sir the stone itself interferes with life readings and there is just enough metal to render other methods doubtful, " came the reply as yet another store room was opened with dozens of containers to be searched and moved. Malacor gritted his cutting plates together. Starfield was injured this was taking too long. Then a thought, "Let me speak to Kakkon." he spoke into his communicator. "Yes, sir?" came the bird man's thrill. "Did you notice if Captain Starfield was wearing a glitterstone ring?" he asked. The Avianary replied "Yes sir, she wore it all the time unless she expected a fight and might need her gloves." "She was wearing her gloves today?" "Yes, sir" finished the bird. So close, if only she had worn the ring, thought Malacor. "Sir?" asked the Avianary. "Yes, Sergeant Kakkon?" Starfield always kept the ring on her person, in a pocket on her uniform," replied the Avianary. Malacor was many things but never slow. It took only seconds for the devices in his armor to give him the coordinates of the signal given off by the glitterstone ring. He spoke into communicator, "All units converge on these coordinates now."

***

Chapter Sixteen

The door to Savage's refuge was an older alloy that would not yield quickly to a plasma welder. His communication unit, came to life it was Kakkon, "Savage, we know you are in there. You are surrounded there is no escape, surrender." Savage snarled, "Starfield does not look well, touch that door and she will look dead." Strikez hissed, "How do we know she yet lives, a corpse will not save you." Savage dropped down to crouch over Starfield then he slipped a clawed finger into pocket of his armor's vest and brought out a reviver capsule. He lifted Starfield's breather long enough to snap the capsule underneath her nose. She started coughing. Starfield moaned, "Where , where?" Savage spoke into the communicator, "The female is injured, her head is bleeding, perhaps I should put her down?" A cold voice he had never heard before came over the communicator, "It would be most unwise to allow your one asset to expire." Savage snarled, "Who are you, what are you?" The voice came back ,"I am First Commander Malacor of the Interrogator Division aboard Spacecarrier Aeagon ." The fur on Savage's back stood up as he said, "If that is true, where is Commander Decaron? I take my orders from him, let him tell me to open this door." Standing next to the armored door Malacor spoke to Sergeant Kakkon, " A life support unit is on the way from my ship. The Wagner troop carrier has landed but refuses to take orders from anyone but Starfield. They have Decaron on the ship, their leader is on the way here."

By this time Starfield was awake. Her head felt like a spike had been driven through it pinning her skull to the floor. Her eyes wouldn't focus, pain, distant pain in her hands as she tried to move them. She couldn't feel her feet. In the distance she could hear Ravage's voice, what was going on? Kakkon shrilled into his communicator, "Ravage if she dies, so do you." Ravage snarled, "I will survive." Starfield heard a roaring like distant ocean calling her, and she was cold, so cold. Was she drowning? Fangs, white in the distance, far away. So hard to speak only a whisper came out , "Ravage". Ravage looked down had Starfield spoken? He crouched next to her, "Starfield are you awake." Did she hear? were those words or thought she couldn't be sure. "must live, punishment.. his crimes..." A sound, a gurgle, was it a laugh came from her? The whisper had sounded like thunder in the silence before the door. Malacor froze caught in a second that lasted an eternity, he recognized that voice. He had heard it thousands of times. It was the voice of the dying. This was taking too long there was no time, turning to his aide he spoke, "Remove my helmet ." The aide began to comply not daring to point out that there was no air to breathe. Kakkon and Strikez backed away as Malacor's strike units moved to place themselves between their commander and any outsider. Two dozen feet away they watched as the helmet was removed to reveal a humanoid head that was inky black with moving flecks of dark red. It looked wet. First one then another tentacle appeared slipping up through the armor's neck flowing out. Suddenly in a flash of movement a large mass flowed out of the armor. The alien no longer looked humanoid. The head sat on a junction of five large tentacles undergrided by an unknown mass of smaller tentacles that varied in size, all moving and flashing razor sharp claws with each movement. The mass flowed across the floor and reached up toward the air vent grid. One of the larger tentacles slipped in between the metal mesh curled just an inch around the wire. Without any visible effort the grid came away as alloy welded screws were ripped from their fitted seats. The Alien's mass seemed to have greatly increased but exact size was difficult to determine. Colors flashed across the surface, by the time it began flowing into the air vent all that could be seen was movement. The alien's mass now perfectly matched the rock wall facing.

Amber's eyes had closed with her last whisper. Touching her throat, Savage found a pulse, weak and erratic. If she dies he thought and his ears laid back flat against his head. He starred at the body and backed away as if it might explode. Fear crawled up his spine with nails of ice. On the very outside of his peripheral vision a flash of moment as something flew through the air and struck the wall on the other side of the door. He stretched his head forward and sniffed even though there was no air to carry a scent. He stalked forward on the balls of his feet, looking up he saw that the metal screen on the ventilator shaft was gone. No, they wouldn't dare risk corrosive gas as long as they thought Starfield might live. He lowered his head looking he found the screen where it had slammed into the far wall. Growling he backed away it didn't make sense. Looking back there was something strange about the floor, it looked wet? How could there be moisture, here? Stepping back , he turned to one side to check on Starfield. The floor was empty , even the blood was gone. A small noise escaped from his muzzle, a whimper. Frantic he scanned the room, empty! His ears strained but heard nothing. Crouching down on all fours, he stalked the space where Starfield had rested. Again the floor looked wet, something was there! Fangs bared, claws fully extended, growling under his breath he moved into the vacant space. As his muzzle came over where Starfield had lain, the floor exploded into a mass of wet ropes lined with knives. A wave of tentacles struck him, Savage screamed in his mask. It was the last sound he made. So fast that it was a blur a tentacle only as thick as a finger slipped under his breather and coiled around his muzzle. Blood flowed where a dozen talons sliced into bone and muscle. There was a blood taste in his mouth. He couldn't breathe, pain, knives cutting him, he couldn't move. The pain ripped through him dragging darkness behind it. Even as he released the unconscious Seth, Malacor used several sub-tentacles to slip his breather back on. There would be time for this one later, much time. He cradled Starfield with a dozen sub-tentacles, holding her several feet off of the floor, giving careful attention to her damaged skull. Shifting his center of gravity, Malacor wrapped one major tentacle around a support beam five feet away. Then he stretched two others out, unheard in the airless silence metal screamed as Malacor pulled the door open on its tracks without benefit of power. As he slid through the door, interrogator medics met him. If any of them were startled to see their commander out of his armor, they gave no clue. They had brought a human life support system. Malacor returned to his armor as the medics hastily placed Starfield inside the life support tank, striving to stabilize her flickering life signs. As his aide locked the helmet back into place Malacor spoke, "It is only because such an action would distress Captain Starfield that I refrain from having you all executed on the spot for gross incompetence. Do make a determined effort to conduct yourselves in a manner which will not cause Captain Starfield any further embrassment." Kakkon and Strikez exchanged glances as they followed Lord Malacor out into the lift.

Stepping out of the opening lift First Commander Malacor was met by a snarling Wagner trying to get in. "Stand down, Stark ", commanded Lord Malacor. The one eyed Wagner snarled "Where is Starfield! I will not stand down! Where is our den mother!" The interrogator lord walked by the Wagner without stopping but continued to speak. "Starfield has been placed in full life support and is on her way to the medical facilities aboard my ship. Her injuries were the result of incompetence by her own personnel. They allowed an enemy to break into their prison and kidnap their commander. Had I not intervened Starfield would have bled to death on the floor of her own command. I am leaving. If you want more information, her personnel will answer your questions." By this time Strikez and Kakkon and the other guards with them were backing away. Stark and a half dozen Wagner snarled in unison. Malacor considered in his armor Starfield couldn't blame him if her precious Wagner should lose their tempers and kill a few of those scum who had let her get hurt. He would have to bide his time, Amber would eventually lose track of the personnel from this command but he would not. Stark and the Wagner with him shifted into a phalanx position growling they began advancing toward the prison guards. "Wait, stop!" thrilled Kakkon. "It isn't us you want. It was Commander Decaron who ordered Ravage to hurt Starfield. Lord Malacor has taken Ravage prisoner and you have Commander Decaron." The Wagner stopped, as did Malacor. "Bring us Ravage, now!" snarled Stark. The Interrogator Lord turned to walk slowly back to the furious one eyed Wagner. Malacor stopped scant inches from the enraged predator and raised his hand, suddenly all the Wagner screamed and fell to the ground. Stark tried to rise but couldn't, a moment later it was over. Malacor commanded, "Stand up soldier, now!" Some of the Wagner were bleeding from the ears from the ultra-sonic wave they had been hit with, but they stood at attention. "I am your superior officer. If you even so much as think of speaking to me in such a disrespectful manner again. I will kill the lot of you and have your bodies flushed into space, despite the distress this will cause Captain Starfield. Know that this is the only reason you now breathe, again your den mother has saved your worthless lives." Malacor turned his back on the silent still Wagner and walked away his mantle flowing behind him. As he walked he spoke his voice echoing across the empty parade grounds. "Bring me Commander Decaron alive and well. What could you do with Ravage? Kill him? A kindness I will not extend." Stark watch in silence, his teeth bared , ears flat against his head. One of the younger Wagner whimpered softly as he reached a paw up to touch where purple blood dripped from the side of his ear. Strikez moved a few steps closer to Kakkon as he stood starring at the air lock Malacor had just gone through. In barely audible growl speak he whispered, "Starfield promised vengeance, she did not promise we would survive."

Commander Decaron walked out of the Wagner's ship. His environmental suits limited air supply was insurance against any escape attempts. At least he was no longer tied, he had no idea were those animals were taking him, anywhere would be an improvement. He had to reach high command. As he was marched around the troopship he saw the giant black cruiser that lay just beyond it. The ground thrummed with a low vibration as null field generators prepared to lift the massive ship off of the planet's surface. His environmental suit's communicator only issued commands. The Wagner shoved him into the black ship's airlock, sealed the door behind him and left. The ship's interior door opened, a black gloved hand reach in and grabbed his suit's shoulder pulling him into the ship. Slammed into the wall he saw nothing as his helmet and suit were removed. After he was pulled back, turned and shoved in the direction he should walk, he finally got a good look at his new captors. Soldiers in black armor all wearing the insignia of the Interrogator Division. "Where are you taking me, I am an a interrogator commander, I demand to speak to your commanding officer, immediately!" he shouted. His captors stopped and a figure in black armor stepped forward. The head mask was an Avianary design etched with a silver bird of prey. A song like a funeral march flowed through the Avianary's speech, " Commander Decaron I am Major Sercaa, our commander will be with you shortly. His orders are to bring you to intake to determine your state of well-being. Please attempt to conduct yourself with the dignity becoming the insignia you are wearing, your squalling before the combat troops has only added further to your disgrace." Commander Decaron's face reddened and he began shouting, "How dare you speak to .." was as far as he got. He would have screamed except the pain took his breath away. Stars, darkness swirled around him as he came close to the edge of consciousness only to fall back into a sea of pain. The Major Sercaa grabbed him from where he had fallen with one hand and pulled him back on his feet. He sang, "Your rank is that of prisoner, you will speak only when spoken to, you have no command." Sercaa released him with a final verse," You may however seek consul with your preferred deity as long as you do so quietly."

First Commander Malacor watched from the observation window as the three physician level medics attended Amber. He had made sure that his personal staff now contained medical personnel familiar with human physiology. These stood over her life support tank. Her body was bathed in a fluid containing a mixture of microbes both organic and artificial. But this did not protect her from the lethal organisms that often swam in her species blood waiting for an opportunity to overwhelm its defenses. He could have watched from a remote screen but he would not. It was almost an hour before the senior level physician came to report. "Captain Starfield's life signs have stabilized, however the damage has not been repaired only alleviated. The patient suffered a head injury several days earlier that had not been properly treated. Blood from the damaged arteries had been seeping in between the external membrane and the skull building pressure and damaging brain cells in the area affected. Because the damage had been confined to the external layers of the brain the symptoms would have been minor. However when she was struck in battle the blow ruptured the bleed vessels along the previous injury. To completely repair the damage would require regeneration equipment that we do not have aboard the "Devastator". Turning from the specialist, Malacor faced the window into the life support unit. The readings in his helmet relayed to him the information from any active sensor within range. He was all too aware that Starfield was not breathing on her own. Regeneration was the only medical procedure that would replace the damage cells completely. The "Judgement" held the finest regeneration equipment available in the Alliance, it was already adjusted for Starfield's species. He had no choice but to turn her over to Lord Shivar but he could not forget Shivar's original threats to interrogate the female and save DNA for cloning. Lord Shivar had changed his strategy shortly after so it was possible the threat was never serious just a way of darkening his blood. But , what if Lord Shivar changed his mind again? Malacor spoke, "Begin procedures to transfer your patient to the "Judgement" when it comes within range."

Another physician of lower rank approached Malacor, "Sir, these are the personal effects of our patient." In his hands was a box that held items found in and on Starfield's uniform. "I will take them," Malacor said. Then he turned and walked away, there was nothing more he could do here. Once in his office, Lord Malacor began to examine the contents of the box. Taking the items one at a time he laid them out on the desk. Two Avianary feathers one dark green the other blue, the structure indicated torso feathers most likely heart feathers from a honor pledge. The glimmer stone ring that allowed him to pin point her location before she had bled to death. A long slim dagger, it looked ornamental but the blade had a sheen that indicated impregnation of a foreign substance, he put that aside for further analysis. A weapon's unit designed to launch small projectiles at high velocities, and her custom made laser pistol with the white handle. A clear envelope containing four data disks. Last and most disturbing three small patches of poison. The surfaces were blended to match the skin areas where they had been placed. A subterfuge that would have fooled all but interrogator trained units. This was the artifice of professionally trained spies where had Starfield learned it and why had she been so determined not to survive capture? Lord Malacor slipped the data disks out of their envelope and into the slots on his desk. The contents were organized under several categories. The one labeled the Citadel containing the most data, and one section flagged attention 'First Commander Malacor." He opened the data structure and began reading.

Lord Shivar's spoke from the communication screen in Malacor's quarters, "My ship will intersect with yours in another ten minutes, I am having my own regeneration unit prepared for Starfield. What is the current status of Planet Garrison? " Malacor replied, "Three other troop carriers have landed, discouraging any thoughts of lack of cooperation among the stationed personnel. There are five hundred strike force units on the surface following the standard protocols. Communications have been frozen to preserve the element of surprise for the other related installations. There is something I want you to read. I have transmitted a copy of the four data disks found on Captain Starfield. She found time to do analysis of the Planet Garrison situation and its implications, along with recommendations for the handling of its investigation. I am sure that you will find the material interesting, as I did."

***

Chapter Seventeen

Starfield became aware that she was warm, comfortable and sleepy, when had she gone to sleep? The last thing she could remember was looking up at the view screen and seeing figures in black armor moving across the battlefield. Malacor was coming, but what happened after that? Opening her eyes she saw the all too familiar confinement rails on her bed, she was in a medical unit. She tried to sit up but barely moved, the result was better when she reached out to the side rails on her left and pulled herself up. The medical sheet slipped down revealing that she was naked. Holding herself up with one arm, she used the other one to pull the sheet back up to cover her breasts. Looking around she saw a foot wide band of lights and indicators for various sensors embedded into the wall at the same height as her bed. Underneath this band of sensors was a recess built into the walls that held what she assumed was various forms of medical equipment. Glancing up she saw that recessed into the ceiling, a unit that was designed to drop down over the bed to provide independent life support in an emergency. She knew then that she was not abroad the spacecarrier, where was she? Such units were only used on in case of emergency on smaller ships with limited resources, as she thought about this a medic came trotting into her room. The medic had on a white tunic with a physician level rank. The saurian looked different than the ones she was used to the neck, legs and tail seemed to be shorter making him look compact and sturdy but it also made his standing height barely above five feet. His scales were three shades of the same brown, the darkest color was over the smooth snout and face with the heavier crest and neck scales having all three shades on each scale. As far as she could see he had no markings indicating clan, associating or even parental lines. She wondered if this was a saurian from a different region than the ones she was used to. This train of thought distracted her completely as the medic glanced at the sensors around her and raised her bed up to support her seated position. Politely she inquired, "I do not believe, we have been introduced?" The saurian stopped, looked at her and blinked as if being asked his name startled him. The saurian spoke, "I am Rim, physician level medic on the "Judgment ", command vessel for the Interrogator Division. You have been in a regeneration unit for 12 days, please refrain from any physical activity except when instructed by physical rehabilitation. Starfield closed her eyes for a moment and sighed, in the future she was going to remember this as the year she kept waking up in the hospital. Then she realized what the medic had said, twelve days? What had happened to her people, the prisoners and Sasha in twelve days? Her mind filled with questions including where was Malacor? She had no idea what the saurian would be able to tell her but she could start with the obvious question. "Rim, I do not remember being injured, can you tell me what the current situation on planet Garrison is and if you have any information concerning warren 342, I would like to know what has happened to the staff and prisoners", She asked. The saurian turned back around from examining sensor readings and replied, "It is not unusual in head trauma for your species that memory loss occurs, especially just prior to the injury. It is my understanding that enemy combatants caused a secondary injury on top of a major concussion that you had sustained almost a week earlier. You are indeed fortunate to receive regenerative therapy to repair the damage. The planet Garrison is under control of the Interrogator corps strike force. There is an ongoing investigation into wide spread criminal activities. I am unaware of any information related to a specific warren", he finished. Starfield thought this over and decided to err on the side of caution. "Thank you for that information, I was on assignment for the Interrogation corps and I have not been debriefed." She said. The saurian blew air through its nostrils, and clicked its teeth, "I was instructed to notify Lord Shivar when you were awake and coherent. I am sure someone has been assigned to you and will debriefed you shortly." Her small room became slightly crowded as an Avianary in dark cocoa plumage and a nurses' tunic came in pushing a cart, with a food tray on top. Rim began backing out of the room, pausing at the door to say, "You are on a liquid diet for the next twelve hours, please drink as much as possible. These fluids contain the necessary bacteria cultures to prepare your digestive system to begin functioning."

Starfield turned to the Avianary medic, he was also on the short side and brown, she began to wonder if this was a statistical anomaly or did Shivar have a set of physically requirements for non-interrogator personal who worked on his ship? But did not seem likely that non-interrogators would be on his ship, maybe they were in standard uniform to perform their vocational tasks? Outside of the deep brown coloring which she had not seen before she suddenly realized that he had no crest! A full ruff around the neck but no crest, she starred at his head trying to see if perhaps this was a result of an injury or self-mutilation. A loud rasping sound brought her out of her reverie, the nurse snapped his bill together and glared at her. Starfield winced fully expecting to be lectured for her rudeness in staring at him. But instead his ruff lowered and he asked softly in sing-song, "Have you never seen a grounder before Captain Starfield?" "No sir, I have not, I apologize for starring. I saw so many beings, whose bodies had been deformed and marred, my mind just went there. I did not mean to be rude, please help me to respect any songs I do not know." Breman replied (for she learned shortly that was his name) "You are a polite one even for a human raised on an Avianary colony. When you are feeling better, I will answer any questions you might have about grounders." Starfield's thought of what little she knew about grounders. Their clans specialized in engineering, mining and farming, primarily vegetarians, they raised various edible fungi in the caves their mining had created. For several thousand years they had formed the bottom layer of Avianary society. Things had begun to change after a very nasty civil war but even after two centuries the grounders still got the short end of most sticks. It seemed to be a universal rule among sentient species, that those who did the most essential tasks were the least appreciated members of their society. For not the first time she was grateful at her stepfather's advice not to take his family name. It would have been very awkward on several levels, although obviously she had nothing to do the actions or the choices of the royal family.

She wondered how Red was doing. She stopped and tried to focus, was this some side effect of her medication or maybe her injuries? No matter how hard she tried her thoughts just seemed to wander all over the place. She had put as much distance as she could between herself and her step-brother for both of their benefits. The expression on her face must have reflected her distress because the cocoa colored Avianary stopped what he was doing and asked, "Are you in pain? Is something wrong?" "No I am okay, I just have so many questions that you can't help me with, not to mention it is a little disorienting to wake up and discover you have lost twelve days from your life." The Avianary clucked softly in a sympathetic tone, just rest, it will seem much better in a couple of days." Starfield spoke," Breman do you know of a patient named Sasha, she would be a female Seth with a broken neck and severe mental trauma?" Breman spoke, "There is a patient fitting that description on the Devastator, other than that she is alive, I have no further information. You should drink fluids and sleep, you will need rest to recover." At least now she knew had not dreamed that Malacor had arrived, the Devastator was his ship. Starfield wondered if there was something other than digestive bacteria in the sweet fruit flavored concoction, she was sipping because she had become very sleepy.

When she woke up the second time she felt more alert and hungry but her nurse arrived within minutes with breakfast. It was something that resembled soft scrambled eggs, bacon, grits and orange juice. She doubted that was what it actually was but sometimes it is just better to go with it and enjoy your food, at least someone was trying to accommodate her tastes. She wondered what number the form was that had a list of her preferred dietary requirements. Breman had only just left with her empty tray when Lord Shivar walked in. For a moment her brain seemed to slip a gear as she considered how to greet him. He was still a terrifying combination of human and metal parts but he had saved her life. She was under no delusion that even Malacor could have come to her rescue without Shivars' permission. She rejected trying to salute (impossible to do in a bed correctly), hello sir seemed too informal and before she got to a possible third choice, Lord Shivar spoke. "Captain Starfield, we must stop meeting like this", then he gagged on the laugh that followed, obviously laughter was something his throat was not used to. After he cleared his throat he continue tapping the metal casing that replaced his own skull, "Amber, if you insist on striking metal tanks and alloy bars with your head, your skull will soon look like mine." Polite, cheerful and now first name basis, had she woken in opposite world? Smiling at him and clutching the scanner blanket for cover she managed to locate the bed controls and adjust the bed to its most upright position. Then she said, "Sir, maybe I should consider getting a concussion helmet or being fitted for armor." Lord Shivar, tilted his head slightly and smiled at her, (not comforting in a being with less than half a face and strange dark teeth). He pulled a chair from out of the corner and up to the bed, then he began to speak, "You will respond to all questions as a deep cover operative of the Interrogator Division. Your enlistment will be recorded almost a year before your current time frame. You will receive full credit for all previous medals and citations awarded under different assignments, this includes a retroactive promotion to commander rank. Since your current assignment resulted in your cover being blown and due to your years of service you will be granted a full retirement at your new level of pay.", Starfield looked at him, her only thought, if anyone wakes me up I am going to kill them. Lord Shivar wasn't through he continued, "In addition to the medals and citations you had earned previously, the Interrogator Division will invent a new medal to honor your contributions for the seizure of the Planet Garrison. I have also petitioned for you to be granted "Lady" status with the peerage board. I wanted you to enter into your marriage with First Commander Malacor with equal rank and status." Her mouth began to open but she closed it, thinking "Wow" best dream ever, I wonder if this medication is street legal?" She was silent, as part of her waited for something truly weird to occur verifying she was in dreamland. However unable to resist opening her mouth against good sense and reason she had to say, "Sir, I am overwhelmed with the generosity of your actions but I feel that I should point out that Lord Malacor has never proposed to me."

Sitting less than three feet from her bed Lord Shivar, rotated small parts in his metal hand and the lens that took the place of his right eye adjusted with little clicks of sound. "The criminals of Planet Garrison and whoever their backers are have broken numerous treaties involving the treatment of prisoners of war. Under the current treaty the Unification may send its own officers to observe the investigation and assist in the prosecution of those responsible for the atrocities committed on the Planet Garrison." Starfield leaned back against her bedding, did she black out and lose part of the conversation, she thought? This was a different conversation entirely, what had happened? She understood about the Unification being brought in, in her analysis she had strongly urged that the Unification's enforcers be brought in immediately to prevent any of the high command from interfering with the investigation. This was not the conversation, they had been having. Lord Shivar stopped his motions and rose to his feet and began speaking, "I hope you are feeling well enough to take visitors, I have someone I want you to meet." It was at that moment a Unification officer stalked into the room. Although not quite seven feet his antenna almost brushed the emergency cover over her bed, his heart shaped head was twice the size of hers. It was amazing that a ten foot long praying mantis could manage to get his body inside the room and move his head to within a few feet of her own. He was a solid black, there was no way to know if that was his natural color or the result of dyeing his chitin. His uniform consisted of straps and belts that wrapped around various portions of his anatomy. Most of the belts held tools or sealed pouches, a few were embellished with symbols of rank and other information. Even if she had had the special equipment to see in the ultra-violet, none of the symbols were familiar to her. But logic told her she was dealing with a high level officer. Lord Shivar continued his speech, "This is my counter-part among the unification hives, He is to be addressed as Hivemaster Tecar please answer his questions to the best of your ability." The mantis made clicking sounds of which she was sure was only a small part of the sound range he would have been using then the translator began. "Why did you go to the Planet Garrison? " Starfield had always believed when in doubt keep as close to the truth as possible. "I was told upon recovery from my injuries on the ice world to accept whatever assignment that I would receive." The huge insect's antenna moved slowly, even she knew there was something odd about it. "You had no choice in the matter?" "No sir, my original orders stated my assignment to a military prison for convicted felons. When another ship came along side with different orders I accepted the orders and continued with my assignment." The insect was standing so close that both of its huge composite eyes seemed to be staring at her, and the antenna repeated the same pattern of movements about twice a minute. Starfield tilted her head down slightly and lowered her eyes a move that would either be interrupted as a sign of submission or as fear by the giant insect. This was an insect interrogator, much of insect interaction involved involuntary movements of the antenna which revealed for them subtle emotions. This alien officer had mastered some form of discipline that locked his own antenna into route movements. It would have been just as effective as an armored mask on an interrogator and for the same reason. She looked up at the sound of clicking noses, and the translator continued, "I see, I have more questions for you but first I will review your reports and discuss certain matters with your commanding officer." The mantis then backed out of the room. Lord Shivar rose slowly and walked to her room door, he stopped a moment to look down the hall then turned and said,"We will continue our conversation at a later time, until then concentrate on your recovery", then he was gone. She was left with her thoughts which seemed to be too heavy to hang onto. Just as she had an idea or a conclusion part of it seemed to slip out of her mental grip. What were they giving her, she wondered? Marry Malacor, it seemed like a wonderful idea except for details like, he wasn't even in her phylum much less her species, he was only marginally humanoid, she had no idea what his belief system was except he was not a Christian and there was the fact he hadn't actually asked her. There may have been other thoughts but all she could remember as she fell asleep was a dream where Malacor was carrying her tenderly as a reluctant death moved aside.

The next day, the first thing she did was have a long talk with Rim about what sort of medication he was giving her. He protested strongly but agreed to change his treatment to something that would allow her to complete more than two thoughts at a time. It helped that she now outranked him, the nice thing about military promotions were they took effect immediately unless otherwise stated. Her retirement and whatever else Lord Shivar had planned would take paperwork and time. Even if she had to stay under treatment she could least get clothing of some sort and be coherent, she didn't think that was an outrageous request. Besides that walking nightmare had to know how she would react, which really was deeply disturbing. Not sure how much she could get away with she asked for a tablet with access to the intra-ship network. One look at the duty roster got her a list of names that were meaning-less, she should have known that the two Interrogator Lords did not share personnel. Somebody in this group had to be able to help her find out about her people. She wondered if she should try to send a message to Malacor, it was not like she thought he had forgotten her. She just wanted to see him, hear him, something but he had to be galactic north of busy. She was considering the risk involved if she just connected to random names and tried to bluff her way into information about the Warren 342. She would have gone there already but for the knowledge she was surrounded by beings trained to professionally extract information. Despite the risk involved she soon came to the conclusion that might be her only option.

But then Hivemaster Tecar stepped into her room. Her salute was still shaky but she did manage to put her hands together in the praying position and lower her head. She did not know the exact meaning of the gesture but the insectoids she had talked to had had used it between themselves when talking to a superior officer. The alien officer didn't actually come into her room, instead he stretched out his neck from the doorway, there were clicking sounds and then the translators began, "Flesh creature do you have any idea of the exact meaning of that gesture? Starfield -thought she detected a note of anger in the translation but decided when in doubt go with the truth, she was certain this would get her killed one day. "Hivemaster Tecar, I only know the meaning of respect to a superior officer and the offer of total cooperation." she said. The Hivemaster clicked his manibles together several times but no translation was forthcoming, finally clicks began that were followed by, "One day perhaps I will enlighten you on its actual meaning until then I prefer a salute or whatever it is your species would normally do for your own officers. Since you have made some attempt to cover your flesh does that mean you are now able to leave the medical cocoon?" She wasn't sure were this was going but Tecar would have unlimited access to information, she started saying, "Sir, I am still on limited duty but I would like to assist in any way possible. I have been trying to find out what has happened to the soldiers and prisoners from Warren 342 since that was my command on Planet Garrison." Antenna quivering the giant black mantis hissed, and stated "The Unification citizens who survived the torture and abasement at the spurs of the Alliance are under the care of emergency personnel and medical ships of the Unification who have come here under temporary truce." For a couple minutes she didn't say anything, she just sat thinking about the implication of Unification ships this deep in the Alliance territory. "Hivemaster, there are no words to express the horror I felt when I realized how the prisoners of war were being treated nor could any words express my disgust at the debauchery they were afflicted with. I did everything I could think of to secure proper aid and treatment for those under my care. The last thing I can remember of Warren 342 was that we had only one insectoid in critical condition, I do not know what happened to it after my injury." The mantis adjusted his body and brought it to a sitting position, clicking "If the algorithms of my language program are correct your words seems to indicate personal emotional distress at the treatment of your prisoners. Since they are Unification citizens, I find this interesting explain your reasoning." Explain sympathy? How could she do that? She began, "Alliance species have different views of reality, some of these are referred to as religion. My religion which is the "Inter-species Christian Church" one of its primary values is that we should treat others as we would want to be treated if we were in the same circumstances." The Hivemaster was silent for a moment then asked "If a convicted killer was imprisoned, you would free him because if you were imprisoned you would desire freedom?" This was not the first time she had heard this argument, "No sir, there is a higher parameter to protect the innocent who would be a released killers victims. Also it may be reasoned, it would be in the killer's best interest to stay behind bars rather than be chased down and killed by anxious law enforcement units." Starfield did notice that while the pattern his antenna swung in did not alter they did speed up, slow down and stop. She wondered what was the significance? " I see so your religion has a hierarchy of commands, what is your highest command? " continued the Hivemaster. "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart and with all thy soul and all thy strength and with all thy mind; and thy neighbor as thyself. Luke 10:27 King James.", She said. The mantis looked at her, clicking, "This does not appear to be a simple philosophy. When time permits we will discuss this personal aberration of yours as for now I wish to return to the discussion of Planet Garrison. Tell me what you know concerning the individual known as Commander Decaron." Starfield took a moment to answer mainly because it was very hard to resist commenting about the Decaron's existence being a testament for the need of an eternal hell. "It is my opinion that he delighted in the suffering of sentient beings, his slaughter and torture of Unification prisoners was for him a pleasant profitable hobby. Sir, I do not wish to belittle the suffering of Unification prisoners but at least the ones who survived the initial culling and disfigurement from the Citadel fell off of his sensor screen. His real focus, I believe was the enactment of sick sexual fantasies against Alliance personal who for the most part were female. None of his victims will ever be the same, even the ones with no physical scars and unlike the Unification prisoners there are no treaties that will assist in their recovery for those who recovery is even possible." Starfield had to stop her voice had started to crack, she thought about Sasha and how callous the Alliance was toward the treatment of those who had suffered permanent mental damage. It wasn't right, they had suffered because an insane officer had been given all the power he could want. She did not know who was responsible for this but there would be a payback somewhere, someway but now she had try keep his victims from being victimized again by their own command structure. What could she do? She was so lost in thought she had completely forgotten about the Hive- master until he reached out with a long thin arm tipped with hard points like daggers and tapped her lightly. Startled she realized she was being rude, "I am sorry Hive-master Tecar, when I think about the suffering of so many of my fellow females, it is overwhelming" The Hivemaster clicked back, "I thought that was what a God was for", before backing out of the room.

On board his ship the "Devesator", Commander Malacor paused to flush his form with fresh fluid as he exited Ravage's cell. It was not his custom to question prisoners, outside his armor but he had made an exception with this Seth. The result being that the Ravage now voided his bowls and began whimpering as soon as the Malestron slid into his cell. The Seth would have despaired even further if he had realized that Malacor was holding back because he wanted the creature to live long enough to truly suffer. As Second in Command of the Interrogator Division his current obligations did not leave him time to indulge himself with the Seth male who had almost killed Starfield. However it had an estimated additional fifty years of lifespan in which to experience future suffering, it would never leave. His aide brought the reports of Amber's condition and recovery to him daily but it was not the same as seeing her, speaking to her, holding her. That Lord Shiver knew what he was feeling appalled him but it was a better choice than a life of not feeling. He had known that sending her to Lord Shivar's ship to undergo regeneration treatment would place her in an environment outside of his control but there was no alternative. Lord Shivar was proceeding according to his own plans and would release Starfield after he had her agreement. What made his tentacles twitch was the possibility that Starfield might refuse to go along, her profile was full of decisions that seemed counter-intuitive. He had not forgotten or forgiven Lord Shivar's initial threat to interrogate her and salvage the DNA. He had put aside his own timetable in favor of Lord Shivar's plans but if Starfield was not returned to him then all agreements would be forfeited.

It was later that afternoon after her lunch that Lord Shivar returned and picked up the conversation where he had left off. He made it clear that she would have neither opportunity to ask questions nor would he volunteer any information until this matter was settled. The Interrogator Division would go with the premise that she was a mole left in the military to investigate irregularities in the chain of command. During the last assignment she was finally able to find a concrete link to the members in high command responsible for numerous acts of treason. The division had then brought her back in from her assignment for her own protection and to reward her dedication and achievements. The official files indicated that she had started out as a low ranking officer so her current promotion to Commander was not only reasonable but well overdue. She wasn't sure were the granting of peerage was coming from but Shivar had managed that for not only himself but also for his second in command so she would take his word on it. The retirement would leave her available for consultation. When he finally got to the marriage issue, he stated that he wanted her spy on Malacor. At this she lost her patience, "Lord Shivar," she interrupted "I am overwhelmed by your generosity but I will not spy for you." Shivar turned his lens toward her and said with obvious contempt, "Because you are in love with Malacor?" Starfield stared at him, "Love has nothing to do with it. Malacor has been with you for over a century, he is well aware of your skills, he would expect me to spy for you! He would plant whatever it suited him for me to find. You would have to decide was this something I had found or something Malacor had arranged for me to find or was I with Malacor's help feeding you information. Why waste your time in this manner? I have no doubt that you have ways of getting whatever information you feel you need on anyone you chose even my future husband."

"If you will not spy for me then what use are you to me?" He asked. Starfield closed her eyes for a moment, opening them she turned her gaze into the metal lens that stood in place of Shivar's right eye. "Lord Shivar, you have my military records - the real ones, you have researched my personal history and studied my psychological profile, why would you think that I don't know what is going on?" Lord Shivar stood up and walked away from her to the foot of the bed, looking down he stared into the flashing lights of her monitoring unit. "Explain to me the logic of my generosity", he said. Starfield took her eyes off of him and looked toward the ceiling as if reading from some distant prompt, and began saying, " You anticipate that events are likely to occur in which I would be useful to you. Giving me rank, access to wealth, a title and arranging for me to stay close as Malacor's bride is not for my benefit however I might enjoy these things. These things are designed to make me more useful to you. Just as shoes, bit and bridal on a horse are for its rider not for the horse, these things serve your purpose. We are not at cross purposes, in many ways I have been doing what you consider your job on my own. Certainly we are of like mind when it comes to the destruction of who or whatever is behind the situation on Planet Garrison." During her speech, Starfield had taken her eyes off the ceiling and starred into that metal eye when she had come to the word "mind". Lord Shiver was silent for a moment the only sound the soft clicking from his lense then he said, "An alliance then for our mutual benefit, one in which in exchange for your elusive and rare talents I will use my resources to see that many of your desires come true and of course to insure your safety. " Then as he turned away, he said, "I will leave you now, you still need a great deal of rest. I am glad we had this meeting of the minds". Starfield watched him the few seconds it took him to leave her room. It had not occurred to her before, it had never crossed her mind, but what if the horrors of Planet Garrison had somehow been part of a game for the mega minds? She did not want to go there, she had no real evidence to suspect such a thing. She had been brought into the presence of Mega Mind 3 shortly after she had enlisted. She had been given an offer, "As long as she won or survived her challenges the mega mind would move programs and devices in her favor outside of a challenge." It was amazing what you could accomplish with a little computer help now and then. Lord Shivar was a force of nature, she would not bet against him but then how could anyone win up against a mega mind? One thing she was sure of, it would not be a good idea to let Lord Shivar know about her arrangement with Mega Mind 3.

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