Depths of Blue Read online

  Torrin was happily ensconced under a stream of water. It was just a hair away from scalding, and she was glorying in the heat. Muscles that had been stiff for so long that she’d forgotten they could feel any other way were finally loosening up. She shampooed her hair a fourth and final time. As for the mud crusted under her fingernails and ground into the pores of her hands, she’d given up trying to eradicate those final bits of dirt. She would have to take the skin off her hands to be rid of the last of the persistent grime.

  As she rinsed her hair, she pulled apart some of the worst of the tangles in it. Jak’s comb had helped to keep the snarls down, but she’d still managed to amass a collection of knots and tangles. She toweled herself off, then attacked her wet hair with a vengeance. A comb and brush had been provided to her, but she used the comb Jak had made for her. It worked every bit as well and was a small touchstone in this strange place, evidence that someone on Haefen had cared enough to make something for her with his own hands.

  The surroundings were alien to her. The shower room was both spacious and spartan, designed so that multiple men could use it at once and about as far removed as it could be from the splendor of Hutchinson’s mansion and still be indoors. The bare walls were some kind of concrete composite. They appeared to be extremely hard and durable but were an unappealing dark gray that sucked the light out of the light panels on the surrounding walls.

  When she’d been let in, she’d been handed a bundle of clothing. She opened it up now to see what they’d provided for her. Tutting softly over the contents, Torrin grimaced. She really should have inspected the bundle before she took it, but the prospect of being clean for the first time in weeks had pushed all other considerations from her mind. A plain blouse in muted plaid was complemented by a long skirt of dark blue. This would never do. The outfit didn’t suit her at all. She would rather have worn the too-revealing outfit the Orthodoxans had provided for her than this monstrosity. There was no way she was going to be seen in public looking like a housewife. Not to mention the psychological advantage it would impart to the Central Command Council when they got down to negotiations.

  Torrin balled up the offending outfit and stuffed it back into the bag. Cringing, she donned the filthy, bloody fatigues she’d arrived in and slipped Jak’s comb into the top pocket. Her skin almost literally crawled where it came into contact with the filthy material. She grimaced, trying not to think of how dirty the clothes were.

  “These won’t do at all,” she announced as she exited the shower room. General Callahan was gone, and two enlisted men accompanied by an officer waited in his place. Torrin glanced at the officer’s insignia in an attempt to determine his rank, but she had no familiarity with Devonite uniforms and couldn’t make a determination. She hadn’t even known that Jak held the rank of sergeant until he’d been addressed by one of the men. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen any rank markings on any of his clothing. She supposed that made sense for someone operating behind enemy lines.

  “What seems to be the problem, Miss Ivanov?” The officer seemed amiable enough. “The clothes you were provided are what most women of good breeding around here wear.” He watched her blandly, one eyebrow slightly raised. His features were eminently forgettable, and there was a grayness about him. She had the feeling that most people had to think very hard to recall any distinguishing characteristics. Everything about his mannerisms, his look, his lack of remarkableness, screamed “spy” to her. To most people, he would have just been an unremarkable individual. If she’d had some free credits, she would have bet that he’d carefully cultivated that aspect for years.

  “I’m sure you can find something more appropriate for me,” Torrin said. “I’m not one of your women, and it won’t do for me to try to masquerade as one of them. I, for one, am not in the habit of hiding who I am.”

  The officer quirked a dry smile at her, not acknowledging her dig. “I can see that, Miss Ivanov. Is there something I can provide that would be more to your liking?”

  “Sergeant Stowell has the clothes I was wearing when I arrived on Haefen, but they aren’t fit to be worn at the moment. They need a cleaning as badly as I did.”

  “Indeed.” Cheeky bastard. He didn’t have to agree with that, she thought.

  Wrinkling her nose, she continued. “Some clean fatigues like your men wear will do. If you can find some that fit a little better than these, I would be in your debt, officer…”

  “Lieutenant Smythe,” he replied with a sudden smile. “I’ll do my best, but our uniforms typically aren’t tailored for someone with your—endowments.” He had a great smile which instantly transformed him from forgettable to memorable. Torrin surprised herself by laughing out loud.

  “Point to you, Lieutenant,” she acknowledged, still chuckling.

  “Hold tight while I find you something a little cleaner,” Smythe told her. “As soon as you’re feeling presentable, I have orders to bring you in front of the Central Command Council.”

  Smythe left, leaving her alone with the two men. They did their level best to ignore her, but neither of them could stop themselves from sneaking glances when they thought she wasn’t looking. She felt like a freak on display from the surreptitious way they watched her. When the lieutenant returned, he was a welcome sight.

  Torrin took the folded fatigues from him and went back into the shower room to change. The uniform was still a little tight across her breasts and hips, but the length of the legs and sleeves was much better. She released a heavy sigh. Being in clothes that were as clean as she was made her feel like she’d obliterated most of the cares of the past weeks. It was probably just as well there were no mirrors in the shower room. She didn’t want to think about how little the fatigues flattered her. The fact that she was worrying about how she looked for the first time in well over a week was a welcome change. Now if only she could find a decent outfit on this planet.

  She emerged from the shower room and rejoined the three soldiers. They’d been conversing quietly, but they clammed up as she exited, the enlisted men coming to attention. At a nod from Smythe, one of them relieved her of the filthy clothes that dangled from her hand and dropped them down a nearby chute.

  Torrin patted the front breast pocket of her jacket and turned too late to stop him.

  “I needed something from in there!” She trotted over to the soldier by the chute, but he shook his head.

  “Sorry, ma’am. It’s gone.”

  Smythe watched her closely as she turned back to him in a mild panic.

  “There was a comb in there that I’d like to have back,” she explained to the lieutenant.

  “You’re attached to that, I take it?”

  Torrin tried to laugh it off. “You never know when you’ll need a good comb.” Indicating his closely cropped receding hairline, she continued. “Well, you might not, but I do. This mass is hard enough to tame without the proper tools.”

  “I see.” The lieutenant walked over to a panel in the wall. He tapped on the panel’s surface, and a few moments later a tinny voice issued from the adjacent speaker. “The laundry room has just received a set of dirty Orthodoxan fatigues. Please see to it that any effects left in the pockets are returned to me.” The speaker spit out a watery sound of acknowledgment. Torrin couldn’t make out words, but she recognized the tone.

  “We should be able to get those back for you soon,” he said. “I hope that will suffice.”

  At her nod, he gestured to the two soldiers. They closed ranks right behind her, and she looked back, startled.

  “Don’t worry about them,” Smythe hastened to assure her. “They’re mostly there for your protection. A lot of people want to know more about the woman from off planet. Also, since Central Command hasn’t made an official statement about your status, we need to demonstrate that we’re keeping a close eye on you.”

  He started down the hall, and she followed at his side. They left the building by way of a side door, and he walked her through the fort. It was
larger than she’d expected, based on what she’d seen at the front and at the refueling station. This so-called fort was actually a small city. Everything she could see was militarized, and uniformed men bustled to and fro. The place was awash with soldiers.

  As they walked, Smythe asked her questions. They started innocently enough, but she had to work hard to keep her answers light and not betray anything that might hurt her negotiation chances or that might get Jak in trouble. Finally, she started answering his questions as if she was a brainless ninny and his probing slowed. From the penetrating look he gave her, he was no more fooled by her act than she’d been by his. Torrin was sweating from the effort of not showing her cards, but she kept right on with the act.

  After a long walk, they stopped in front of a hulking building, more massive than any she’d seen so far. The concrete of the edifice was so dark it was almost black. There was nothing elegant about the structure, but its sheer size and bulk lent it a powerful mien. It crouched above them, promising to crush anyone unfortunate enough to cross the might of the Devonite army.

  “We sometimes bring high-ranking Orthodoxan prisoners of war here.” Smythe’s comment was offered out of nowhere. Torrin blinked at the unanticipated tidbit of information. “Most of them leave under a death sentence for war crimes. Your friend Hutchinson would have been among them if we’d ever gotten our hands on him.” He looked over at her, pinning her to the spot with his eyes. The affability was gone as if it had never been. In its place was a gaze harder than steel. “And there’s your sergeant.” Smythe skewed his glance past her.

  She pivoted in time to see Jak being escorted by two men through a door halfway down the building’s south side. He didn’t see her, and she made no attempt to get his attention, not while she was under the eyes of the much-too-perceptive Lieutenant Smythe. His last set of comments had completely thrown her. Was he implying that she was being associated with Hutchinson and that she might share the fate that had been in store for him? Maybe he was trying to get her to worry about Jak’s plight in an attempt to rattle her. Whatever he was after, she couldn’t let him know that she was shaken. She tore her gaze from Jak’s back and smiled as blandly at him as he’d ever smiled at her.

  “The architecture is impressive,” she said. He smiled. “A little primitive, though,” she finished blithely, and the grin froze on his face. Match point, she thought and smirked at him.

  “Let’s go inside,” Smythe said, ignoring the gibe.

  Two men separated themselves from their positions on either side of the side doors. One of them held open the left-hand door and the other approached her.

  “Ma’am,” he said. This was an impressive physical specimen, she thought. He was tall, extremely tall for a Haefonian, and he towered over her by about fifteen centimeters. Under his carefully pressed uniform, his muscles were enormous. The entire package was topped by a fiercely chiseled face. She passed in front of him through the door, and he followed closely behind her. It was pretty clear to her that she hadn’t become suddenly heterosexual. For all that he was probably one of the prettiest men she had ever seen, she felt no attraction to him whatsoever. Jak was still the only man she couldn’t stop thinking about. Even now, when she had more important considerations, the thought of his touch on her skin sent heat shooting through her belly. She quickly dismissed the image. Nothing could distract her from the task on hand.

  “He needs to search you before you go any further,” Smythe said.

  “You’ve been with me this whole time,” Torrin protested. “You know I don’t have anything.”

  “You’re going to be in the presence of the Command Council,” Smythe explained, voice reasonable. “The court guards take their jobs very seriously. If it makes you feel any better, they’ll be searching me as well.”

  “What about those two?” Torrin indicated her two shadows with a nod.

  “As your guards, they will be permitted to keep their sidearms. But yes, they’ll be searched for any additional weaponry.”

  “All right.” Torrin looked at the pretty soldier who’d waited patiently through the exchange.

  “Over here, ma’am.” He guided her to one side of the door and had her lean her hands against the wall and spread her legs. Quickly and professionally, he ran his own hands over her body, checking every inch. To her intense relief, his touch roused no interest in her. She couldn’t wait for the ordeal to be over. She was only mollified by watching Smythe and her two bodyguards go through the same procedure.

  When they’d been thoroughly searched, Smythe led them through a series of high, echoing hallways. The inside of the building was as imposing and austere as the outside and just as dark. They wended their way deeper into the colossal edifice until he stopped outside a wooden door that was taller than she could reach.

  “You’ll wait here,” he said.

  “You won’t be accompanying me?”

  “I need to go report to my superiors. These two will stay with you, though. To keep you safe.”

  She’d heard that explanation before, recently as a matter-of-fact. Shaking her head, she went through the door. A roomy waiting area greeted her, replete with backless benches. At the unpretentious reception desk directly to the right of the door was the first Haefonian woman she’d seen since arriving on the planet. The woman worked over the leaning stack of papers on her desk. She had a lighted wand plugged into the jack at the base of her hand. After running the wand over each paper, she would turn the paper over onto another stack. The door closed behind Torrin, and the woman looked up and greeted her with a pleasant smile.

  “Miss Ivanov, I was told to expect you. Can I get you anything?” She stood and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The rest of her hair was pulled back in a severe bun. She smoothed the front of her uniform skirt and watched Torrin, her regard expectant.

  Torrin shook her head, unsure how to address the woman. The general disdain in which the people of this planet held their womenfolk made her hesitant to be too familiar.

  “Very well, Miss Ivanov. Please make yourself comfortable. The tribunal will be with you when they’re ready.” The uniformed woman seated herself and resumed her task.

  Tribunal? Torrin looked around the room before settling on a bench against the far wall. I thought I was supposed to meet with the Command Council. Maybe tribunal means something different here. From her seat she could see the entire room, including the door she’d entered through and the room’s only other door. She assumed it led to council chambers; she didn’t want to be caught unaware when someone entered. Her shadows settled themselves in seats directly across from her.

  Time passed at a glacial pace. The council must be making her cool her heels in an effort to impress upon her how little they valued her time. It was an old negotiating tactic. If they’d admitted her as soon as she’d arrived that would have indicated her schedule took precedence over theirs, signaling an eagerness to deal on her terms. Of course, she knew what they were up to. She had employed the same tactic on more than one occasion herself. They would have to do better than that to throw her off her game.

  Left to her own devices, for a while she watched the receptionist, whose routine never varied. She just kept waving that wand over the stack of papers in front of her. Paper seemed ubiquitous to human civilization, mused Torrin. Notwithstanding all of the technological advancements she’d seen on so many different worlds, every society employed paper of some sort. There simply didn’t seem to be a more efficient way of disseminating information in a short term. Sure, digital files worked well for long-term storage, but when knowledge needed to be accessed by multiple people for an abbreviated period, use of paper still cropped up regularly.

  Haefonian paper, from what she could see from her seat, looked pretty innocuous. It was blue, like almost everything else on the planet but wasn’t especially thick or overly textured, not compared to some varieties she’d seen.

  I really must be bored, she thought. Ruminating on varieties o
f paper between planets? Maybe I should write a research paper. She laughed aloud at the absurdity of the idea, and the other woman looked at her inquiringly.

  “Sorry,” Torrin said, trying not to laugh harder. “I had a funny thought,” she concluded lamely. There was no way she would be able to explain herself, so she simply let it go and tried to quell her laughter. The harder she tried to contain herself, the more she had to laugh. Finally she had to stomp hard on one foot to stop the fit of giggles.

  The room’s other door opened, quashing any further urge she had to laugh. Lieutenant Smythe stood in the doorway and looked at her, his face inscrutable.

  “We’re ready for you,” he said. Torrin pushed herself off the bench and strode over to him.

  At a glance from the lieutenant, the two soldiers took Torrin by the upper arms and marched her across the room toward the opposite doorway. “What are you doing?” she demanded furiously.

  “My apologies, Miss Ivanov,” Smythe said behind her. “It seems this may not end up the way you wanted it to.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jak sat high up in the courtroom’s crowded gallery. Why Central Command would be meeting with Torrin in a court, she didn’t know. Especially with all these people in attendance. A full military tribunal sat awaiting the smuggler, and they didn’t look happy. Jak’s debriefing had gone so well she’d assumed Torrin’s meeting would be a breeze.

  A door opened on the other side of the courtroom, and Torrin was deposited in a chair by two enlisted men. The five members of the tribunal looked on in disapproving silence. Torrin’s military escorts took up positions on either side of her chair.

  From Jak’s vantage point, it was difficult to see Torrin’s face. She was far from the action on the floor and slightly behind Torrin’s seat. Jak keyed in her implant and zoomed in on Torrin, but the best she could see was the line of her jaw and the curve of an ear. Jak could tell Torrin was nervous from the way she held herself, though she doubted anyone who hadn’t spent a lot of time with her would have known.