Lionheart: The Unseen Saboteur, part 2 (3 of 4)

	"Good day, young prince."
	Reanyn whirled.  Standing nearly at his elbow was an elf woman.  She was
tall, nearly his own heigh, with golden hair that shined like the sun and
piercing blue eyes.  Her clothing was a simple white robe clung to her
slender form loosely and hung nearly to her ankles.  She was standing in a
ray of sunshine that shone down from above, and the light made her almost
seem to glow.
	"Did I startle you, my prince?" she asked.
	Reanyn stared at her.  Most elves were beautiful, but she...  it was almost
otherworldly, how beautiful she was.  At first glance he would have said she
was his age, possibly younger,   "I...  Forgive me, lady.  I am not often
surprised, but I did not hear your approach."
	"Than I cry your pardon, my prince."  She had a mischevious glimmer in her
eyes, almost as if she were teasing him.
	Prince?  She had used the term twice.  "You have mistaken me, lady," he
said.  "I am no noble."
	She nodded.  "No indeed, my prince.  The blood that courses through your
veins is royal, not noble."
	He had to smile.  "Truly you have mistaken me, lady.  I was born of common
parents."  He looked up at the overhanging branches, searching in vain for
one of the hanging platforms he knew were there (from this angle they were
invisible).  "I am only a soldier who is visiting your `Garden' for the
first time and is a little turned around.  Could you tell me how to find my
way up-"
	"You were born of parents that were anything but common, High Captain
Reanyn Al'Nuoth."  She said quietly.  "The sacrifices they made for you have
ever earned their rightful place in the courts of the Seldarine.  True
nobility is earned, young prince, not inherited.  It is paid for in blood
and sacrifice.  You lineage sings in my heart, my prince."
	Reanyn stared at her.  It suddenly occurred to him that the way she said
`my prince' wasn't as if she were deferring to a higher noble, but rather
possessive, as if the `my' indicated that he was her child.  "You have the
advantage of me, lady," he said at last.  "You know my name and rank, and
yet I do not know yours."
	She gave him a mysterious smile.  "I am no longer a soldier, young prince,
though I ever strive to serve my people.  I am called Seljuril."
	She said it as if she expected him to recognize the name, but he did not.
When he said nothing, she continued.  "It is due to the nature of my...
service to this place that I have been witheld from acting sooner, or more
directly."
	He shook his head.  "Acting on what?"
	"The matter with which you are presently charged in settling."
	His eyes narrowed.  "You know something of my mission?  Something
pertaining to my investigation?"
	"I know many things," she said, "it is my nature."  Then she shook her
head.  "But I am constrained in what I may say.  I have not sought you out
to speak of those events."
	"Why, then?" he asked, suddenly suspicious.  It seemed to him that she was
being deliberately vague.
	"I have come for you, young prince.  Your investigation of Colonel
Alynium's death has proceeded much farther than any of those... who
sanctioned your selection for this work ever anticipated.  Your work has
earned you enemies.  Dedication often does.  Very soon now you will be
forced to a decision."
	"What decision?" he asked, taken aback.  "Who are you?  Some sort of
priestess or something?"
	She shook her head, ever so slightly.  "No priestess.  Though I commune
with them from time to time."
	Commune?  That seemed an odd choice of words.
	"You must choose between duty and honor," she continued.  "It will be a
terrible choice.  And even should you make the right choice, you will suffer
for it."
	Choose between duty and honor?  That made no sense.  "Duty is honor, lady,"
he said, starting to become irritated.  "They go together as hand and glove.
  How should I be forced to choose between the two?  It makes no sense."
	Her eyes were sad.  "Nevertheless, it will be forced upon you."
	He was beginning to become angered at her evasiveness.  "I've no time for
riddles," he said.  "What do you know of the murder of Colonel Alynium?"
	"All," she said sadly.  "Though I am constrained."
	"What do you mean `constrained'?" he asked.
	She was quiet for a moment.  "What was done, was done by lawful authority,
by those who considered themselves acting on behalf of the good of the
Fleet.  It was also an abuse of power.  Whether the actions taken were truly
to the benefit of elvenkind or not...  none may say, not even I.  Only time
will tell.  But the actions were done lawfully.  And so I am constrained.  I
may not act.  And I may say no more."
	He was puzzled.  "If you fear your testimony will put you in danger, I can
protect you."
	She smiled, touched.  "Oh, my brave prince.  It is not I who is in danger,
but you.  Who will protect you?"
	He shook his head.  "Then why won't you tell me whatever it is you know?
Who ordered the colonel's death?  Why?  What has the insectare to do with
it?"
	She shook her head sadly.  "I may say no more."
	Reanyn sighed.  "Then I don't understand why you came to me, lady.  Are you
representing someone else?"
	She shook her head again.
	He turned, and looked out across the glassy lake, frustrated.  "Then I must
ask you to go," he said at last.  If Dainvillo was watching, he would never
approach Reanyn if he thought there was even the possibility that one of the
people hunting him was already there.
	She didn't answer for a moment.  "You will not find what you seek here,"
she said at last, "but should you still desire to ascend to the hanging
platforms, the nearest way up is through the Temple of Rillifane.  That is
the tallest of the oak trees, the one that towers above the rest.  As I say,
you will not find what you seek, but you may find some solace.  The Garden
is an excellent place for reflection and consideration, and the choice you
will be forced to make will be difficult."
	"I don't know about any `choice'," he said turning back, "but I think I'll
reserve judgement on..."  His voice trailed off.
	She was gone.
	The ray of sunlight she had been standing in had vanished as well, and the
ground she had been standing on a moment before was shaded, the grass not
even pressed down as it should be from the weight of her feet.
	"Lady?" he called, looking around.  There was no answer.  She must have
departed as silently as she had come, but even at a dead run he didn't think
she could have disappeared into the shady thicket before he had turned.
	The encounter was mystifying, but even though the lady had told him almost
nothing, it was not unproductive.  She had intimated that she knew `all'
concerning his investigation, though for reasons he did not understand she
was unable to share those details.  But she had given him her name.
Seljuril.  He filed it in his memory, intending to learn what her rank and
purpose aboard the station was.

					*	*	*

	It was difficult, and he had to double back more than once as he chose his
path, but eventually he did find his way to the base of the great oak tree
that housed the Temple of Rillifane.
	The tree was not artificial; it was carefully tended by the druids who
worshipped there.  At the base of the trunk there was a fair-sized chamber
hollowed into the wood where the priests held their daily rituals and
ceremonies, and the lay worshippers gathered on Rillifane holy days.  This
had not been carved into the wood - indeed the priests would have been
offended at the very suggestion - but rather the tree had grown the chamber
naturally, in response to their spells and prayers to the elven deity whose
temple it was.
	There were also rough steps circling the base of the tree, leading upwards.
  These too had been grown into the natural bark of the tree and not
crafted.  Reanyn ascended these and eventually reached the lowest of the
platforms and hanging bridges - there were several layers of them.
	He climbed to the topmost layer, then peered down to see if he could spot
any of the five major entrances to the Garden.  To his disappointment, he
found that he could only see one from this position, and that branches
obscured all others.  And even the one he saw was partly blocked by
undergrowth and low-hanging branches.
	So much for the theory that Dainvillo would post himself here.
	He explored the upper walkways for the next hour or so, searching for other
possible `lookout' positions.  But the Garden had obviously been designed as
a haven for private reflection and secluded walks, for even at the best spot
he could find only two of the entrances were visible.  The druids had
carefully nurtured the forest, specifically growing it so that there were
many hidden pocket.  Too, the Garden was supposed to give the effect of
being in a real forest, which was so many of the branches and leafy limbs of
the trees were designed to obscure vision.  That way, visitors would be less
likely to notice the crystal dome that overhung all, the artificial boundary
of this `forest'.
	He wandered for a bit, then found a secluded nook of the platform with
benches and took a seat.  Dainvillo had not been specific about where he
would meet him.  Reanyn had to assume that any operative of the
Tyliath-Venhi'er would know what he was doing.  If the second lieutenant was
able, he would find Reanyn.  If not...
	He waited there for a half hour, at first peacefully, enjoying the cool
breezes and the sounds of rustling leaves and distant birdcalls, then with
increasing impatience.  Dainvillo was late.  Nearly and hour.  Perhaps the
man wasn't coming.
	Reanyn got up from his seat, pacing back and forth restlessly.  His boots
clicked against the hardwood slats rythmically for a time.
	Abruptly he halted, looking down at them.  They were standard officer
issue, part of his uniform, polished to a shine.  And he was wearing his
uniform with them.
	Perhaps that was why Dainvillo hadn't come.  The elven lady he'd met
earlier - Seljuril, her name was - she hadn't been in uniform.  The Garden
was a place for rest and relaxation.  It wasn't a battle station, or a place
where official Fleet business was held.  Perhaps he shouldn't have dressed
in uniform.  Maybe it had drawn too much attention to himself.  He shook his
head and grunted.  This was all just silly conjecture.  There was nothing he
could do about it now.
	He gazed down at the boots for another moment.  The leather was shined
nearly to perfection.  He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen them
that way.  Certainly not while he was in command of the Vengeance.  Half the
time he hadn't even worn a uniform, and he certainly didn't have the time to
spend on niceties like keeping his boots shining.
	But when the summons had come for immediate appearance on Lionheart, he had
dragged his uniforms out, cleaned them during the journey, and spent some
time getting those boots into shape.  It wouldn't do to appear before
Admiral Lylanna in an unkempt uniform stained with sweat and boots that had
been worn into battle.  No, the very thought-
	Abruptly he straightened, snorting in derision.  Worrying about whether he
should have worn his uniform!  He had always prided himself on his
practicality, and now he was acting like a silly fool.  Dainvillo would come
if he could.  Uniforms didn't enter into it.
	After a quick, silent debate with himself, Reanyn sat down on the bench
again, resolving to wait.  The second lieutenant was late, but he might yet
appear.  And the information he had was too valuable for Reanyn to take the
chance of missing him.

				*	*	*

	Nearly another full hour crept by, and Reanyn was still alone.  During that
time he had seen only one other elf, and that was at a distance, on a lower
hanging bridge at least twenty yards off.  There was no sign of Dainvillo,
and since the second lieutenant was now nearly two hours late, Reanyn
decided he must have met with some difficulty and wasn't coming.
	He had walked some distance back towards the Temple of Rillifane, when he
stopped suddenly.
	There was a faint but growing rythmic vibration in the boards beneath his
feet.  Footsteps.  Someone was approaching.
	Twenty feet ahead, the walkway turned a sharp right angle, and beyond that
point it was obscured by the tree brances.  Around the corner came a
uniformed elf who pulled to a stop at the sight of Reanyn.
	"High Captain," he said with a nod of greeting, flashing an easy smile.
	"Commandant Geyrrin," said Reanyn.  "What are you doing here?"
	The commandant shrugged.  "I'm off duty.  Thought I'd take a stroll.  You?"
	Reanyn didn't answer for a moment.  "The same."
	The high elf arched one eyebrow.  "How coincidental.  Perhaps we could walk
together."
	Reanyn shook his head, stepping past him.  "I'm just leaving."
	Geyrrin turned as he passed.  "Well, it's still a good distance to the
nearest entrance tunnel.  Perhaps I'll join you.  For that distance, at
least."
	Reanyn looked back at him, then shrugged.  "If you wish," he said.  He
tried to keep his tone neutral, but he had a sudden flash of uneasiness.
There was something about the commandant's smile that wasn't friendly.  More
like that of a predator toying with its prey.
	The commandant nodded.
	Reanyn continued, and the commandant matched his pace, walking beside him.
For a moment neither spoke.
	"So, I understand you've pretty much finished up your investigation," said
the commandant.
	Reanyn didn't answer.
	"At least, I heard that you found the scro who murdered the colonel.  Funny
how we missed it for so long.  The insectare's body, I mean.  I've got to
hand it to you - you certainly one-upped my division on that one."
	Is that what this is about? thought Reanyn  Simply rivalry?  The commandant
is jealous that I was able to find the body when he wasn't?  Aloud he said:
"I should point out, commandant, that I wasn't alone in the discovery.
Lieutenant Trielle was present, and she is one of your division.  Or at
least she was."
	Geyrrin chewed his lip thoughtfully.  "Yes.  She was.  A good officer,
Trielle, but sometimes..."  He grinned.  "Sometimes a little slow when it
came to realizing there is more to serving the Fleet than simply `serving
the Fleet'."
	Reanyn shook his head.  "I'm not certain I understand what you mean."
	Geyrrin shrugged.  "She was a hard worker.  But singleminded.  Sometimes
she didn't know when to let go."
	Reanyn looked at him.  "What are you saying?"
	He shrugged.  "Things don't happen in a vacuum.  I'm sure you know that.
There are two approaches to every situation.  Small minded people focus on
the specifics of the situation itself.  Sometimes they get a little lost
when it comes to viewing things in context.  To seeing the broader picture.
You know what I mean."
	"I'm not sure I do, commandant," Reanyn said coldly, irritated that the man
was talking in hints.  "What are you trying to say?"
	Geyrrin flashed him a quick grin.  Again it was more predatory than
friendly.  "Take this incident I worked on earlier today, for example.  It
seems there was an accident on D dock.  A cable snapped while some supplies
were being offloaded from a freighter, and some poor fellow got crushed
beneath three tons of steel.  That sort of thing happens from time to time.
A simple accident.  Now, if I were a small-minded person, I could let myself
get bogged down in trying to understand what an officer who is supposed to
be reassigned off-station was doing in D dock in the first place."
	Reanyn halted, staring at him.  "What?"
	Geyrrin glanced at him.  "The officer," he said casually.  "He had been
reassigned off station about a week ago.  He wasn't even supposed to be
here."
	"Who was he?"
	Geyrrin shrugged.  "Some second lieutenant.  Was attached to Nyntoch's
staff while he was here.   Oh wait," he said suddenly, "you might be
familiar with the name.  Dainvillo.  He was marginally involved in the
Alynium case.  I mentioned him in my notes."
	Reanyn felt a chill shoot through him.  "Lieutenant Dainvillo is dead?
You've seen the body?"
	"Second lieutenant Dainvillo," corrected Geyrrin.  "And yes, though there
wasn't much left of him after the accident, we made a positive
identification on the body."  He paused, giving Reanyn a crafty look.  "Just
goes to show, doesn't it?  He shouldn't have even been on station."
	"Just goes to show what?"  Reanyn's voice was harsher than he'd expected.
	Again Geyrrin shrugged.  "I could get bogged down in minutia - why was he
still on station, for example, or what was he doing down on D dock today?
But in the end, it was a simple accident.  That's the broader viewpoint.  He
was a decorated officer and his surviving family will receive recompense.
If I pry too deeply into the `whys' and `hows'... well, who knows what I
might find.  Maybe he was a deserter.  Maybe worse.  Maybe I find something
that brings shame and hurt to his family, something that brings dishonor to
the Fleet.  But in the end the man is still dead, it was still an accident,
and I see no need to besmirch his name. Sometimes it's wiser to temper
dedication to `duty' by balancing the harm that can be done to the Fleet's
honor."
	Reanyn was silent. The commandant's choice of words went through him like
an icy knife.  You must choose between duty and honor.  That had been the
lady's warning.  And now there was no mistaking the threat in the
commandant's eyes.
	"I've been looking at your file, high captain," he said, abruptly switching
subjects.  "Impressive, I must admit.  You've distinguished yourself in
peacetime and in war, and you've managed to earn your rank at a very young
age.  Very impressive."
	"What of it?" demanded Reanyn.  He knew very well that the commandant
should have no clearance or access to his files.
	"Nothing," replied the commandant, but his eyes narrowed as if he were
closing for the kill.  "I noticed that you were born in Wraithspace.
Interesting sphere, that.  Not much there, really, except for a few
inhabitable moonlets.  Mostly farms."
	Reanyn remained silent.  There was nothing in his file about Wraithspace.
There couldn't be.  No-one knew about that.  No-one.  But somehow the
commandant knew.
	"Interesting thing about Wraithspace," the commandant continued.  "It was
settled mostly by veterans of the First Unhuman War.  Volunteers who'd
undergone bio-engineering."
	A surge of panic welled up in Reanyn.  He knows!  "I wouldn't know anything
about that," he said aloud, keeping his voice calm.
	"No?"  The commandant appeared surprised.  "Strange.  You bear the same
surname as a decorated veteran of that war.  Rypian Al'Nuoth.  Any
relation?"
	Reanyn was silent.
	"Well of course he wouldn't be.  Rypian was a bionoid - you are familiar
with the term?  A Living Weapon.  You couldn't very well be related to him,
not unless you were a Living Weapon too.  And your application didn't say
anything about that.
	"Of course, if you were a bionoid, why I certainly wouldn't blame you for
not putting it on your application.  It's hardly an asset for advancement in
the Fleet.  Oh, I know there aren't any official rules against bionoid's
joining, but it's a simple fact that most bionoid applications are rejected
out of hand.  And rank advancement... well, there is no rank advancement,
not for bionoids."
	"What are you saying?" asked Reanyn.  His voice was soft.
	"I'm not saying anything, high captain."  The commandant's voice turned
hard.  "That's the whole point.  If I were blind to everything but my duty,
perhaps I would have investigated you further.  Suppose I found out you were
a bionoid, that you had lied on your application.  I'm certain you aren't,
but just for example let's say you had.  `Duty' would demand that I report
you.  And then what?  Court-martial.  Possible expulsion from the Fleet.
Maybe prison time.  Dishonor.  For you, for your family name, for the Fleet.
  And what would it accomplish?  A good officer, no longer able to serve.  A
loss for the officer.  A loss for the Fleet.  A loss for the men who served
under him.  For the men whose lives were his responsibility.  Is all of that
worth the selfish indulgence of `duty'?"
	Reanyn was quiet for several moments.  "Honor without duty is hollow," he
said at last, very quietly.
	"And duty without honor is pointless," countered the commandant quickly.
	Reanyn snapped his head up, his eyes fiery.  "Stop talking in `what-ifs',
commandant.  It offends me.  Stop insinuating and speak straight out.  I
don't know who sent you, but you came here today to deliver a threat and a
warning.  What are you trying to say?"
	The other man stepped back, his eyes measuring.  "Colonel Alynium was
killed by a scro assassin," he said at last.  "You found the insectare's
body yourself.  It is a terrible tragedy, but there is the end of it.  Turn
in your findings to the admiral and let the case rest."
	Reanyn was quiet.  Geyrrin must have taken the silence to mean the other
man was considering the idea, for he suddenly continued, in a much milder
voice.  "Come now, high captain.  Lionheart is no place for a man like you.
You itch to be away from here, I can read it in your eyes.  You walk away
with a promotion and a commission to command your own ship.  You are a
soldier, high captain, through and through.  You've left men in the field to
come here.  Men in battle.  Your men, high captain.  Every minute you spend
here is another lost there.  Their lives our your responsibility.  Will you
abandon them for your pride?"
	Reanyn gave an angry shake of his head.  "This isn't about pride!"
	"No, it isn't," the commandant shot right back.  "It's about serving the
best interest of the Fleet.  Your men need you in the field, high captain.
They are your responsibility.  Will you betray their trust for your `duty'?"
	"Should I dishonor the men who have died here by obscuring the truth?"
Reanyn asked angrily.
	"There is no dishonor for them in silence," said Geyrrin.  "Colonel Alynium
died as a hero; a martyr slain by our greatest enemies.  As for the
insectare..."  He snorted.  "It is an abomination, undeserving of honor."
	"And Dainvillo?"
	Geyrrin shrugged.  "A decorated and valued officer who lost his life in a
tragic accident.  No-one ever has to learn that he was a deserter."
	Reanyn shook his head in anger and disgust.  "Dainvillo was no deserter.
And it was no accident that killed him either.  That was the doing of your
people... whoever they are."
	"Careful, high captain-"
	"Don't caution me, commandant!" hissed Reanyn.  "There's just you and me
here.  You insult my intelligence if you expect me to believe Dainvillo's
death was an accident."
	The commandant took a half step backwards, sudden uncertainty flashing
across his face.  It was not wise to bait a Living Weapon.  When he spoke
again, it was with cool disdain.  "Why do you think you were selected for
this investigation, high captain?  Do you imagine that you were chosen for
your abilities?  Your intelligence?  Your experience?"
	Reanyn didn't answer.
	Geyrrin shook his head.  "You were chosen because it was estimated that you
would fail.  You were selected for your inexperience.  No-one expected you
to get as far as you have.  No-one."  Suddenly the predatory smile returned.
  "You were supposed to fail."
	Reanyn gave a slow nod.  "Sorry to disappoint you."
	"Just walk away from it, high captain.  Just walk away.  It is in the best
interest of the Fleet."
	"Prove it," demanded Reanyn.  "Who ordered the colonel's assassination and
why, and what has the insectare to do with it?  If the truth is so terrible,
tell me what it is.  If it really hurts the Fleet, I'll back off."
	Geyrrin shook his head.  "I think our interview is done," he said, the
slightest smile on his lips.  "Consider your alternatives, high captain.
Consider your men.  As I said before, high captain, your military career to
date has been very impressive.  Men such as you don't make rank that quickly
without knowing how the game is played.  Sometimes you play; sometimes you
fold.  Just walk away."

					*	*	*


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