The Iron Admiral: Deception

THE IRON ADMIRAL: DECEPTION

By

GRETA van der ROL

Grand Admiral Chaka Saahren has the rewards of rank…

…but he doesn’t have Systems Engineer Allysha Marten. Determined to keep her safe, Saahren will go to any lengths to win back the woman he loves. Allysha agrees to temporary employment by the Fleet, hoping to avoid at all costs the man she believes responsible for the death of innocent civilians, including her estranged father.

Sean O’Reilly has a plan…

…and it involves hijacking Allysha and convincing her, one way or another, to do just one more job—a job that would clear his debts and save his hide.

Allysha Marten must come to terms with her feelings…

…in the face of a reality that suggests she is a pawn in a growing power struggle, one where she will need all her skills and cunning to outwit a heinous plot that could result in the loss of billions of human lives.

When Allysha decides to tackle the conspirators on her own, she forces an impossible choice on …The Iron Admiral.

THE IRON ADMIRAL: DECEPTION

Copyright ©2011 Greta van der Rol First electronic edition published by Pfoxmoor Publishing, PfoxChase Imprint Digital ISBN: 978-1-936827-56-5

Published in the United States of America with international distribution.

Cover Design by Greta van der Rol and Sessha Batto

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the copyright owner except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors’

imaginations or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

To Reb. Thanks for the tough love.

“You have a visitor, Allysha.” Albert, the apartment’s Information System, pronounced the fact in its usual measured tone.

“Who is it?” Allysha mumbled, rolling over. “And what time is it?” She buried her head back into the pillow.

“The time is ten hundred hours and the visitor is Grand Admiral Saahren.”

Saahren. Oh, buckrats. She’d spent the night dreaming about him. Just when she thought she’d consigned him to history.And now he shows up . “Tell him I don’t want to see him.” She tugged the sheet

back up over her shoulder.

“That’s too bad. You’ll have to.”

Allysha’s eyes snapped open. He stood by the bed, looking down at her, wearing simple blue trousers and a white shirt that accentuated his dark skin and black hair. Brad Stone revived. Her skin tingled while

scenes from those erotic dreams tried to replay in her mind. She pushed them away. The physical attraction was strong as ever but that was just physical. She didn’t like the man. He wasn’t Brad Stone; never had been. He was Grand Admiral Chaka Saahren who had bombarded a civilian planet, killing billions of innocent victims, one of them her father.

She clutched the sheet tight to her chin, conscious of her nakedness. “How did you get in here?”

Saahren chuckled. “I opened the door and walked in. Usual sort of thing.”

“You’re not authorized to do that.”

“I gave myself the authority. Come on, we’re going out.”

“No, we’re not. Don’t you have to obey privacy rules? Can you just walk into anybody’s bedroom?”

He sat down on the edge of the bed. “For anyone who’s part of the Fleet, I probably could, but I expect it wouldn’t be a good idea.”

Making sure she kept the sheet up under her chin, she wriggled herself up to a sitting position. “But it’s okay for me?”

“It’s already after ten on a wonderful Tenday. I’m going to get Albert to make me some kaff. If you’re not out of bed when I come back in here, I’ll personally remove you.” His eyes sparkled as he smiled. “I might enjoy that. Why don’t you just stay there?”

“Oooh, get out of here.” She waved him away. The sheet slithered down from her breast and she snatched it back up. Not that he would have seen anything he hadn’t seen before.

He chuckled as he went but he closed the door behind him.

Allysha jumped out of bed and swung a robe around herself. Erotic dreams and now this; the man himself, coming in here bold as brass as if he had some sort of right. Well, she wasn’t having it. She tied the cord at her waist.

Brewing kaff assailed her nose as soon as she opened the bedroom door. Saahren, relaxed and confident, stood at her window, looking out across the gardens. “Nice place,” he said. “A view, easy walk to the office.”

The apartment was magnificent, much nicer than anything Allysha had in Shernish, back home on Carnessa. Elegant and well appointed, it boasted a large bedroom, a study and a fully functional kitchen.

The living room contained a separate dining area and a built-in bar flanked the short passage that led to the front door. She had selected a palette of ocean tones from the available color schemes. Pale green walls blended with sea green carpet and the furniture and window coverings were the ivory of sea foam.

The colors, at least, reminded her of home.

“Yes, very suitable.” He put his head to one side. “No personality, though. There’s nothing of you here.”

“Why would there be? I’ll be gone in a few months. Anyway, why are you here? I don’t want to see you. I thought I’d made that clear.”

“Yes.” He strolled to sit down in one of the armchairs. “I have to say, I still find your attitude odd.

How’s your back? No lingering side effects?”

Oh, that again. “Look, I told you before, it was instinctive. I just… did it.”

Dived across in front of Saahren when a mad gunman turned a weapon on him. Tesso, the ptorix ambassador’s translator, had just killed his employer after being personally implicated in the massacre of three thousand ptorix miners on a remote planet, a massacre of which Saahren had been accused. Her action was instinctive but in the quiet of the night Allysha knew she might not have done the same thing if, say, President Galbraith was the assassin’s target. She wasn’t going to tellhim that.

“And I am grateful, Allysha. I have tried several times to express my gratitude but you won’t let me.”

He had. He’d sent her flowers and she’d put them in the disposal, he’d sent her jewelry and she’d sent it back to him. She refused to talk to him except about work. She’d refused an invitation to his inauguration

as the newest grand admiral. She hadn’t heard from him for two weeks, thought he’d finally given up.

Until now.

“Okay, you’ve said it. Now will you please leave? This is my day off.”

“I thought we might spend the day together. I want to know if mamangs combine well with curry.”

Oh, buckrats. She’d said that when she first tasted the flesh of mamangs, back on Tisyphor. They were delicious. Memories flooded. The mountain garden, eating mamangs on the lawn by the waterfall. She could almost taste them in her mouth. That was when they’d first made love.Don’t go there .

“Where can we get them in Malmos?” Damnation, she’d agreed. Without hesitation. “It doesn’t matter.

I’m not going. You have no right and you can’t make me.”

His smile was slow, showing teeth. “Kaff before you shower, or after? Can I help you with your robe?”

She looked down at her garment, following his eyes. The cord had loosened. Saahren stared at her cleavage and passed his tongue slowly between his lips. His eyes were hot. Flushing, Allysha fled to the washroom. “After,” she said over her shoulder. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. She might as well humor him; he’d leave soon enough, back to his battle cruiser and then she could get back to her own life.

Showered and dressed, she returned to the living room to find Saahren watching a news broadcast.

“Turn it off, Albert, and make some more kaff,” he said when Allysha appeared. He shook his head.

“Tell me why it takes so long for a woman to get dressed.”

“Because I haven’t done… what d’you call it… boot camp training.” Although she had to admit, she’d taken longer than usual. What to wear seemed more complicated. Casual, but not too casual. Nice, but not too revealing. In the end she’d settled for tailored black pants and a green shirt. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders but she’d applied just a little eye makeup. Not for him, though.

He fetched the kaff and sat opposite her at the dining table. “I like the shirt. It matches your eyes.”

That was why she bought it. But she wasn’t going to admit it to him. She sipped her kaff. “So what’s the plan, Admiral? Since it’s clear I have to obey orders.”

“We’ll make a day of it, do some ordinary things, visit a few places. You haven’t been out much since you’ve been here.”

“Are you having me followed?”

“Let’s just say I keep myself informed about your movements.”

Damn him. “I hate this, you know that? You know everything about me, whether I want you to or not.”

His smile was reflective. “Not everything. There are things that only you can tell me.”

She gulped down the rest of her kaff and took the cup to the kleendish in the kitchen. He was every bit as unsuitable as Sean had been; just differently unsuitable. They’d both told her lies, both used her, both told her they loved her. She’d learned her lesson. Love was for losers.

She set the cups in the appliance and closed the door. Just for a moment she wondered what had happened to her estranged husband. But only for a moment. She hoped he’d escaped from van Tongeren

and his people. Sean was such an idiot. He’d been out of his depth with such a bad crowd. Good luck to

him. It did mean the divorce would have to wait until she’d found him again, but with Saahren hovering around, that might not be such a bad thing.

“Well, come on,” she said, striding back to the living room. “If we’re going to do this, let’s go. You can buy me breakfast.”

“I have a skimmer on the thirtieth level.”

He went out the front door first and waited for her to lock up. In the parking area he wove his way between the vehicles to a slightly battered blue Lysanda convertible with its top open. The model was probably five years old.

“Oh. I would have expected you to drive a TL 200 or something.”

He laughed as he opened the door for her. “This isn’t mine. I don’t even own a skimmer, as a matter of fact. I don’t get to drive myself very often. If I want a vehicle, I just requisition one. Where we’re headed

a TL 200 would stand out like jaykka ferns in the desert. And probably wouldn’t be there when we got back.”

“Where does this come from?” she asked, sliding into the passenger seat.

“FI. They have quite a few vehicles of different types for undercover operations.”

Fleet Intelligence. That would be right, all organized with his good friend—and her boss—Admiral Vlad Leonov. She wondered if Vlad knew about this… this raid. Huh. Of course he did.

Saahren punched in a location and let the machine’s IS make its way out into the traffic. The ordered sky-ways were busy. Malmos was busy thirty hours a day, every day.

“Where are we going?”

“To the city markets in a suburb called Cusang. Right out on the edges of the manufacturing district on the other side of the city.”

They passed the Fleet admin buildings and the parliamentary complex and headed toward the mountains.

What magnificent weather, warm without being hot, the sky a brilliant blue vault, the sunlight sparkling on distant snow caps. Saahren left the Lysanda’s top down and the wind ruffled Allysha’s hair, reminding her of a warm summer’s day on the beachfront at Shernish port.

“What are you thinking?”

“Summer days in Shernish. I can’t wait to go home.”

“Why? What put the thought in your mind?”

She shrugged and told him. Warmth, wind in her hair, the talk of food. The conversation drifted to restaurants and cooking and what people ate in Shernish and how it might be cooked. He listened and asked questions as the cityscape changed around them. The buildings were lower and market gardens instead of parks filled the space between them. Long strips of different vegetables created a patchwork quilt of texture and color. Allysha hardly noticed.

****

“No. But she’s a good looking woman and the place is full of men.” Sean wondered if Allysha had had boyfriends in Shernish. He hadn’t taken much notice of what she did—apart from the credits coming in.

He hadn’t actually seen much of her at all, the past few years. Foolish of him, really. His wife was lovely, without a doubt, but she didn’t really seem to much want his company. She could hardly blame him for consoling himself with other women.

He rubbed his face and wished he could shave. The stupid little beard itched. But Liam McNeill, lately of Ullnish, had a beard. At least he did while he was alive. The face shapers had reversed Sean’s depilatory around his chin, plumped out his cheeks and thinned his hair. He wore a voice modulator inside a tooth and his eyes were temporarily dyed blue. No need to tell the Feds Sean O’Reilly was in town. Ironic, really. He’d gone to a body shaper to avoid the Feds. A pity he hadn’t known that particular body shaper was an agent for the Galactic People’s Republic. At least he’d been able to persuade Tepich to let him try again to deliver Allysha. He very much doubted the late Gerrit van Tongeren would have given him another chance.