The Iron Maiden (10 page)

She hurled the right knife into the figure. It would not kill the intruder, but would hole his suit, and his reaction should distract him a moment. A holed suit was always a matter of immediate concern, even in a pressured environment.

The suit fell over. By the sound if it, it was empty. She had fallen for the old hat-on-a-stick trick, but she was already moving through the aperture in her follow-up attack before she realized.

Of course the man was lurking. He dived for her in a tackle. She knew why; in darkness one needed to be sure of the enemy's location before making a lethal strike. Or maybe he simply wanted to capture the captain alive. It had to be something like that, because this counter-trap had been too well planned to be for a simple elimination of a pirate ship. They surely wanted to interrogate Brinker and get information on other pirate ships.

These thoughts were parallel to the action. Spirit was already turning, twisting to avoid the tackle. If the man did get hold of her, he would have a surprise: a naked woman in his arms. That should make him pause that instant necessary to allow her to make a deadly stroke with her second knife.

He sideswiped her, but was already countering her move. He caught her right arm, yanked her off-balance, and used a foot to sweep her ankles out from under her. She realized she was up against a trained hand-to-hand fighter. This was mischief indeed.

She had not even hit the deck before she swung hard with her left hand, trying to knife him before he knew. It was her only chance.

But he caught that hand, somehow knowing, and clasped it with his strong fingers, seeking leverage on the knife. They landed on the deck, torso to torso. She inhaled, trying to make sure he picked up on her gender now, while their hands wrestled. If she could free that hand even a moment--His finger fell across the stump of her little finger. “Spirit!” he whispered.

She froze. Then she placed the voice. “Hope!”

“I got your message. EMPTY HAND. Where's Brinker?”

Then it was his turn to freeze, for the captain had come upon him silently during the struggle. Spirit knew Brinker's knife was touching his flesh--and he could not get away, being entangled with Spirit. “What is your offer, Captain?”

“Life for life,” Brinker said. “Yours for mine.”

“Agreed.” Thus simply the two had bargained and made the deal. Hope kissed Spirit, giving her a two-second taste of heaven, then disengaged and got to his feet, addressing the captain in the darkness.

“You can take your lifeboat out, as I did before.”

“Yes. I know you are a man of honor, Hubris.”

“Spirit,” he said. “Go get dressed, then stay clear while we deal.”

They had already dealt! But Spirit didn't argue. She returned to the cabin and donned her clothing, becoming Sancho. It was only a moment.

They were still talking in whispers as she returned. “Company,” she murmured. She meant that another person was approaching from the far side.

“We're done here,” he said. He raised his voice. “Navy in charge here. Is the ship secure?”

“Secure, Sergeant,” one of his men agreed from the control room.

“Losses?”

“One, inside. No report from outside.”

They had taken the ship with only one loss! This had indeed been a polished mission.

They went to the lifeboat in single file, Hope, Brinker, and Spirit. “You knew!” Spirit said.

“Kife informed me,” the captain agreed. “I planned to capture the ship and ransom him back to the Navy, letting you go with him. But he outmaneuvered me.”

So Brinker hadn't tried to have Hope and Spirit kill each other, though it would not have bothered her unduly if that had happened. Spirit suppressed a surge of anger. The captain had remained within the letter of their understanding, but hardly the spirit.

Brinker entered the lifeboat. “Perhaps we shall deal again, Hubris,” she said.

“Perhaps,” Hope agreed noncommittally. He was no better pleased with the captain's ploy than Spirit was; she felt the controlled anger in him.

The hatch closed. Hope found Spirit again, this time embracing and kissing her like a long-lost lover.

Indeed, she was all of that, in her heart. They had so much to catch up on!

“You are going to join the Navy,” he told her.

“Of course,” she agreed, as if there had never been any question. Because he was already there.

The power returned. They separated in body, but not in soul.

Gerald

The next two years were quite busy, but in terms of Spirit's life represented a necessary interstice. She entered the Jupiter Navy's basic training; Jupiter citizenship was not necessary for this, and indeed it was a route many immigrants took to facilitate citizenship. Hope entered officer school at the same time, and about the time he made O1, she entered officer school herself. Training was tough on both levels, but she had little trouble with either, because her soul had been hardened as a refugee and her mind and body had been trained aboard the pirate ship. The requirement to patronize the Tail did not bother her either; she was long accustomed to weekly sex with indifferent men.

Actually she had come to know the men of The Hidden Flower quite well, and had prevailed on Hope to arrange for lenient treatment for the survivors: one year's imprisonment followed by service in the Jupiter Foreign Legion, where they could earn immunity from further punishment if they merited it.

Bruiser, by special dispensation, was allowed to enlist in the Navy, provided he kept his nose clean. She made it a point to meet him once in the Tail, just for old times sake.

“God, kid,” he said when he recognized her. “I love you.”

She knew it. “You saved my life; I gave you back yours. We won't meet this way again; I'm going to officer's school. But I do care for you in my fashion.”

“I love you,” he repeated as he climaxed in her. She knew she had given him a gift that he would cherish indefinitely. Not the sex, for that was always available in the Navy, but the contact. He did love her, knowing they would never have a social relationship.

They did not see each other again until a year later, when she, as an officer, brought him into her brother's forming unit. They did not speak of their former association, but she knew his loyalty was guaranteed. He became her informal bodyguard, when she needed one.

Hope, as an O2 lieutenant, made contact with one Lieutenant Repro, a drug addict with no future in the Navy, who nevertheless had a dream of the perfect unit. He had a list of the best possible officers for it who were not otherwise committed, and urged Hope to assemble that unit. The first target was Lieutenant Commander Phist, a whistle-blower who had blown the whistle on a billion dollar cost overrun, whose Navy career had of course been destroyed by his honesty. He was thirty five years old and on the verge of retiring from the Navy.

Hope discussed it with Spirit, as he did anything of consequence. She was the lowest of officers, an O1, but that had nothing to do with their relationship. “I need to get Commander Phist's commitment to my unit,” he said. "He is the best logistics officer in the Navy. Repro points out that though he ranks me by two grades now, mine will rise while his will not. But until I rank him, I can't bring him in, even if he should want to come, and I'm not at all sure he would be interested in someone's dream of a perfect unit.

So this seems impossible to put together. What can I do?"

Spirit had an answer. “I will fetch him for you.”

He shook his head doubtfully “How?”

She smiled. “Just give me a little time, Hope.”

Thereafter she oriented on Commander Phist, learning everything about him. He was a good man, an outstanding officer, well worth recruiting. He had absolutely no future in the Navy--unless Hope was able to reverse the blacklist. When she was ready, she sent him a message: May I meet with you on private business?

Ensign Spirit Hubris

Evidently bemused by this contact from space, as the phrase went, Phist agreed. Spirit took a taxi rocket to the spinning administration bubble that was his station, and made her way to the complex where he was posted. She reported to his office in uniform, but took along a civilian outfit. She intended to make an impression on him, and she had a fair notion how to do it.

Commander Phist turned out to be a tall, handsome, well formed man, the soul of courtesy. He was efficient without being pushy, and did not waste time on small talk. “Lieutenant, I admit I am perplexed by your wish to meet me. Is there some small problem I can help alleviate?”

She smiled. She had not tried to mask the scars on her face, or her truncated finger; she intended to be honest with him throughout. “My business is of a somewhat personal nature, and may require considerable reflection on your part. I can express it in one minute, but would prefer to express it in an hour or a day, in a less formal setting. I would greatly appreciate it if you would humor me on the presentation, though not on your decision.”

He reflected only a moment. “What do you know of me?”

“Everything that is on the record.”

“Does this affect my career?”

“Yes, in part.”

“I know nothing of you. Show me your power.”

She held up her hands, demurring. “Please sir, not here.”

“Will you trust yourself in my private apartment?”

“Yes.”

“Then I believe I can free the afternoon for your presentation. Will that suffice?”

“It may, sir.”

He smiled. “You intrigue me. But I trust you already know that I have very little influence on Navy policy.”

Just in case she were some kind of agent seeking military favors. “Yes, sir.”

They walked to the street level where his personal floater was parked. Gravity shielding did not work on spin-gee, so the vehicle did not literally float; it had wheels. But truly floating vehicles were so common on planets that the designation had spread more generally. They rode to his apartment complex, which was not fancy. Gerald Phist was evidently not much for personal display, conforming her research on him.

But his apartment was reasonably spacious and quite well kept. He was meticulous in personal habits.

She appraised it at a glance, liking what she saw.

“May I change to civvies, sir?”

“As you wish.”

She stepped into his toilet cubicle and put on a blue dress. She let her hair down and tied it back with a matching blue ribbon. She applied foundation makeup to her face, hiding the scars. Finally she donned white gloves, the left one with a stuffed finger. The whole procedure took very little time; she was well familiar with this particular transformation.

She stepped out and walked to the center of the room. She twirled, letting her skirt flair decorously. She was slender, but her legs had ripened nicely. “This is the artificial me,” she said. “I will change back if you prefer.”

He studied her with obvious appreciation. “Why should I prefer?”

She sat in the chair opposite him and crossed her legs so that some thigh showed. “Because my appearance and manner may distort your judgment.”

“At this stage I am not clear whether your business is professional or social in nature.”

“Both, sir.”

“I am now more than intrigued.”

“I will show you my power now, sir, if you wish.”

“I believe you already have. You have transformed from a battle scarred ensign to a lovely woman.”

He had obliquely agreed receive her presentation. She gave him the blunt summary: “My brother, Hope Hubris, wishes to assemble an ideal military unit. You are the best logistics officer extant, and he would like to have your association, when this becomes appropriate. Because you outrank him at present, this is not yet feasible. I am here to obtain your commitment. This is a business matter, in support of my brother, who is my galaxy. I am prepared to marry you and make you as satisfied in that respect as a man can be.”

His mouth had not dropped open, but his features had gone still. She had impressed him, all right, but not necessarily positively. “This is more business than I anticipated,” he said.

“I want there to be no deception as to my nature or my mission,” she said. “I can not promise you love, but I can promise you the semblance of it for the duration of our association, which will be as long as you choose it to be. But I would like to say also that I believe you will find my brother worthwhile, perhaps more so than me, and that he may in due course be able to improve your career. We need you, Commander, and we are prepared to pay our way.”

He frowned. “I think I am not for sale in quite that manner. But I confess that your personal appearance is appealing to me, I assume by no coincidence.”

“No coincidence,” she agreed.

“However there is more to a woman than appearance. I would like to know more about you personally.”

“The one minute summary is that I was a refugee from Halfcal, witnessed the destruction of my family and companions, was captured by pirates, and after four years was able to rejoin my brother and enter the Navy. It is the kind of background that leads to survivalist traits. I am a hard woman, but a loyal one.”

“You would do anything for your brother.”

“Yes. I am here for him.”

“Tell me about Halfcal.”

“Sir, do you mean historically, culturally, or my participation in it?”

“All of them. Call me Gerald.”

She flashed him a smile. “Thank you, Gerald. Stop me when you tire of detail; I don't wish to bore you.”

“I think you know how not to bore me.”

She smiled again. Indeed, she did know. He had lost the early love of his life when his career foundered, and had not taken a regular woman since. Spirit had disposed herself to resemble that woman in subtle manner. Her dress, her style of hair, her smile--all were roughly reminiscent, considering that the woman had been Saxon rather than Hispanic. “Halfcal echoes Haiti on original Earth, whose people were descendants of free slaves that revolted against the French in the 18th century, during the rein of Napoleon. French buccaneers took over the west side of the island of Hispaniola and harassed the French until they gave up in disgust and let the revolutionists have it.”

“What of the original inhabitants?”

"Those were the Taino, American Indians, who welcomed the explorer Columbus but died out because of European illnesses like smallpox and the brutal treatment by the invaders. The French then brought many thousands of black slaves from Africa. There were fifty or more slaves for every Frenchman.

Eventually these slaves revolted and threw the French out, naming their land Haiti. But that was not a happy conclusion, even for the slaves; there were racial tensions between mulattos--that is those of mixed white and black ancestry--and the blacks. Halfcal was colonized by those descendants, and by some from neighboring regions, a renewed melting pot. Our situation mirrored our origin; there were border tensions between Halfcal and the Hispanic Dominant Republic. Thus my family lived in a border city, and is Hispanic rather than mulatto."

He seemed interested, but she decided not to leave it to chance. She got up and went to sit beside him.

When he looked at her, she learned forward earnestly, showing more breast than before. She was seventeen, and now fully formed. She had no picture of her sister Faith at that age, but Hope said she was similar. She would rivet the gaze of a man, when she tried, and she was trying now. “So racially and culturally I am Hispanic. But we ran afoul of an aristocrat, and had to flee the planet. That was our mistake; the pirates--”

“I know about pirates,” he said, gazing into her bosom. He really had no choice. “Their tentacles extend well into Naval supply procurement.”

“Yes, they prey on refugees.” She frowned, remembering the horrors of the refugee bubble. “But I think you would not care to hear those details.”

“Yes, I would.”

So she told him, but the telling crept up on her, especially when it came to the loss of her father and then her mother. She had blocked those memories off for years, but the bitter edge was still fresh when she reviewed it. “I apologize,” she said. “I am unprepared for this particular narration.”

Then she was in his arms, not by her decision, and crying against his shoulder. “Damn!” she said. “I don't like to cry, especially not in public. Especially not now.”

“I apologize.”

She was startled. “Sir?”

“Gerald.”

“Gerald. Do I misunderstand? I have bored you with my pain, and wet down your shoulder. You should be angry.”

“Spirit, I wanted to see the genuine you, under the pretense. I did not mean to hurt you. I apologize for leading you on.”

“This is not what I had in mind. I have ruined the effect.”

“I appreciate the effect. You are a most attractive woman. But I prefer to keep company with a genuine person.”

“I am not sure of that. I have maimed men. I have killed. I have been the woman to an entire ship of pirates. My core is grief and bitterness. I am ugly inside. There was no need to burden you with that.”

“Then let's leave that behind. Tell me of your brother.”

She cheered almost immediately. “He is smart, and honest, and courageous. When there is a difficult scene, he has such nerve he can face down a pirate or an officer. He can read people, understanding their natures. And his effect on women--”

“You pause?”

She smiled ruefully. “Women love him. They all want to do his bidding, to be near him, to have sex with him. It's like an aura he carries with him, even when he was young. And I--am jealous.”

“Jealous of his magnetism?”

“Of his women.”

There was a silence. Then she got up and went to clean her face. When she returned, Gerald had changed to civilian clothing, and looked like any man on the street.

“I believe I am twice your age,” he said.

“Does it matter?”

“I think not. If you still wish to associate with me, I am amenable.”

“You have just seen me at my worst. Are you sure?”

“My career is going nowhere. I am neither young nor virile, neither bold nor wealthy. You obviously have the ability to fascinate any man you wish to. Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

“Then so am I.”

She nodded. She lifted the hem of her skirt. “Do you wish to--?”

“It is tempting. But perhaps not appropriate at this time.”

“As you prefer.” She kept a straight face, but she was hurt.

“Am I missing something?”

“No, you are a sensible man. I am the one who has foundered.”

“I assume that having won your case, you are ready to return to your unit.”