Shadow of Victory

by David Weber

  “Well, the minute you find that evidence, I want her locked up. Do you understand me, Mr. Kápička?”

  He glared at the Minister for Public Safety furiously for another second or two, then cut the connection with an angry swipe of his hand and wheeled around to Adam Šiml.

  “I never imagined those bastards would be idiotic enough to try something like this, Adam!” he said. “It makes me think they probably were behind that bomb in your air car.”

  “I already told you I don’t think Cabrnoch and Žďárská had anything to do with it, Karl-Heinz,” Šiml said wearily.

  The transstellars’ CEO had insisted that both he and Vilušínský be whisked off to Sabatino’s penthouse the instant Vilušínský’s facial wound had been treated. Frankly, he’d rather be somewhere else—trying to comfort the wife and children of the man who’d just died saving his life, for example. In fact, he’d told Sabatino that rather snappishly when the limo driver pulled up to the penthouse’s landing stage, instead. He’d been far too emotionally exhausted to worry about offending the CEO, but almost to his surprise, Sabatino had nodded instead of firing back. He’d also immediately dispatched another limo to collect Alena Špánková Malá and her two daughters and bring them directly to his penthouse. And he’d also already promised to set up a trust fund that would ensure the Malý family never wanted for anything.

  “I know you don’t think they were behind it,” the CEO said now. “And maybe you and Kápička are right. But you could be wrong, too, and I’m not taking any chances—any more chances—with your life. You and Mr. Vilušínský were incredibly lucky. Lucky he missed with the first shot, lucky that second shot wasn’t a single centimeter farther to the left, and lucky that young man was there to die keeping you alive.” Sabatino’s expression was as serious as Šiml had ever seen it. “I know you think of me as a calculating, ruthless businessman, Adam, and that’s fair, because I am. But that doesn’t keep me from regarding you as a friend, and it definitely doesn’t keep me from appreciating the sacrifice Filip Malý made for you this morning. And I’m sorry if my suspicion of Cabrnoch and Žďárská bothers you. But you’re just going to have to put up with it until Kápička proves they didn’t order it.”

  Šiml looked at him for a long moment, and then nodded slowly.

  “And, speaking as a calculating, ruthless businessman,” Sabatino said with a slight smile that held more than a trace of true sorrow, “I have to say this won’t hurt your chances in the special election one bit.”

  * * *

  “I don’t know, Steve,” Sinead Terekhov said. She stood on the balcony of the enormous suite on the top floor of the Comstock Hotel, and her expression was unwontedly somber, almost worried. “I just don’t know how Aivars will react to this. For that matter, I don’t know how I’m going to react!”

  “Well, can’t say I’m real surprised t’ hear that,” Stephen Westman replied. He stood beside her, gazing out across the capital as the sun settled in the west. “Bound t’ be some hard feelin’s after how long and how hard y’all fought with each other, Sinead. Don’t rightly see how it could be any other way. And I ’spect Admiral Tourville’s prob’ly smart enough t’ realize the same thing.”

  Sinead glanced up at his profile and bit her lip. She was, frankly, astonished by how much she’d come to like Stephen Westman in the two T-weeks she’d been on Montana. She could understand exactly how someone with his personality had taken up arms against the prospect of having his home star system submerged in another star nation, but she had to admire the kind of integrity which could do that, on the one hand, and admit it had been wrong, on the other. And it was obvious Westman not only admired her husband, wasn’t simply grateful for what he’d accomplished here on Montana, but actually liked him a great deal. In many ways, he and Aivars were actually quite a lot alike.

  But he didn’t know about Hyacinth. He didn’t know how Aivars’ cruiser squadron had fought to the last ship protecting its convoy. Didn’t know how savagely Aivars himself had been wounded, or how many of his pitifully few survivors had been tortured and killed in custody of the People’s Republic of Haven. Didn’t know about the nightmares when he’d waked covered with sweat, trembling, trying not to show his soul-deep wounds—trying not to “burden her” with it! There’d been times she’d almost hated him for not letting her inside, for punishing the man she loved for having survived when so many of his people hadn’t.

  And now this. Now an entire Havenite fleet, under the command of the man who’d annihilated Sebastian D’Orville’s Home Fleet in the First Battle of Manticore, was here in Montana. Not only in Montana, but monumentally senior to Craig Culbertson…which meant he was now in command of all forces in the system. When Aivars returned from Mobius, how was he going to react to that? And how was she supposed to react to it?

  Well, the one thing you can’t do is create a scene. However Aivars feels, he’s going to have to work with Tourville—have to take his orders. If you make that even harder, you won’t do anyone any favors. Besides, if anyone should know better than to do that kind of thing, it damned well ought to be you!

  “I hope you’re right, Steve,” she said after a moment. “But I’d really, really like to be somewhere else this evening!”

  “Least you’ll have some support, Ma’am,” he told her, smiling down at her. “An’ I promise t’ behave myself an’ not spill any gravy down my shirt.”

  * * *

  “Good evening, Ms. Terekhov,” the dark-skinned, blue-eyed, exotically attractive young woman in the mess dress uniform of a Republic of Haven Navy lieutenant said as Sinead stepped into the boat bay of RHNS Terror.

  The huge superdreadnought swept in orbit around the planet of Montana, and Sinead pictured all the Montanans below gazing up at the sun-reflections of the hundreds of warships orbiting their world.

  “I’m Berjouhi Lafontaine, Admiral Tourville’s flag lieutenant,” the lieutenant continued. “He instructed me to personally meet you—and Mr. Westman, of course,” Lafontaine nodded respectfully to Westman, “—and escort you to the dinner.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant.” Sinead heard the edge of frost in her own voice and wished she hadn’t. This young woman was too young, and too junior, to have had anything to do with what had happened to her husband or his people, and the Republic of Haven—the Republic, not the People’s Republic—and the Star Empire of Manticore were allies.

  It would’ve helped if they’d at least changed the color of their uniforms, she thought almost petulantly, then gave herself a stern mental shake. She was an adult, damn it. It was time she acted like one.

  “That was very thoughtful of the Admiral,” she said far more naturally and smiled at Lafontaine. “I appreciate it.”

  “If you’ll come this way, please?” Lafontaine said, and waved gracefully for Sinead and Westman to precede her to the lifts.

  * * *

  The RHN was unable to match the degree of automation the RMN had embraced, which meant they required much larger crews, on a ton-for-ton basis, yet any SD(P) required substantially fewer personnel than a more conventionally armed ship with the same firepower. As a result, RHNS Terror’s builders had found themselves with rather more volume than usual when they designed the ship’s crew spaces.

  That showed as Lieutenant Lafontaine escorted Sinead and Westman into the spacious mess deck which had been converted for the evening into a formal dining room. The tables and chairs could easily have seated three hundred people, Sinead decided, and it wasn’t crowded.

  Only a handful of the guests had yet arrived, however, and she felt herself tighten internally as the lieutenant led her across to the tall, broad-shouldered admiral waiting to greet her. She took in Tourville’s…jubilant mustache and the treecat on his shoulder.

  “Ms. Terekhov,” he said, extending his hand, and she took it, not entirely willingly. “I’m honored to meet you and grateful to you for coming,” he told her. “I’ve followed your husband’s achievements with gr
eat admiration.”

  “Thank you, Admiral,” she said coolly. “And please allow me to express my admiration for your part in the defeat of the Solarian attack on Manticore.”

  My, that sounded properly stiff and formal, Sinead, she scolded herself.

  “It was my honor to be there,” he said. “And may I also add,” he met her eyes levelly, “that my people and I took great satisfaction from the thought that Manticore and Haven now know who the enemy’s truly been for the last several T-years.”

  “I’m sure you did,” she replied. “And, like all Manticorans, I’m deeply grateful for the Republic’s assistance.”

  He nodded and turned to Westman.

  “Welcome aboard, Mr. Westman,” he said, and smiled rather more naturally than he had at Sinead. “Mr. Van Dort informed me in Spindle that you and I probably have a great deal in common. I’m not sure he meant it as a compliment.”

  “Bernardus is like that,” Westman replied with a matching smile. “And seein’s how he knows me as well as he does, it prob’ly wasn’t.”

  * * *

  The evening, Sinead decided some hours later, as the mess attendants began serving dessert, wasn’t as dreadful as she’d feared it would be. Of course, that didn’t make it the most pleasant banquet she’d ever attended, either. It was readily apparent that their Havenite hosts were doing their best to put their Manticoran guests at ease, but it was also clear she wasn’t the only one who felt the edge of tension. To their credit, both Culbertson and Tourville—who’d immediately approved all of Culbertson’s decisions since Admiral Gold Peak’s departure—appeared to be in the process of establishing a genuine rapport. Whatever their various subordinates might feel, they seemed to be completely at ease with one another. Appearances might be deceptive, but the body language of the treecat on Tourville’s shoulder suggested otherwise.

  Yet, try as she might, her own sense of tension, of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, persisted stubbornly. In fact, it was worse than it had been.

  “You don’t ’pear t’ be enjoyin’ yourself,” Westman observed quietly in her ear, and she turned to look at her tablemate.

  “I know. And I hate it,” she admitted, equally quietly. “Admiral Tourville’s done everything he could to make me and everyone else genuinely welcome. But I just can’t seem to forget he was once a Peep admiral.” She bit her lip, and her nostrils flared. “I don’t know if Aivars ever told you about his time as a POW or what State Security did to the survivors of his crews, but it was…horrible. Just horrible, Steve. And on top of that, Tourville’s the one whose ships captured Duchess Harrington and handed her over to StateSec. Who proceeded to torture and abuse her…and would’ve hanged her if her people hadn’t managed to escape! I know it was a different war, and I know the People’s Republic was a different star nation, and I’m ashamed of myself, but I just…I just can’t seem to forget that.”

  “I didn’t know—” Westman began, but then a quiet voice interrupted.

  “Excuse me, Ms. Terekhov,” Berjouhi Lafontaine said, and Sinead whipped around in her chair, eyes wide and beginning to flush in mingled fury and embarrassment as she realized Tourville’s flag lieutenant had been standing behind her the entire time she was speaking.

  “Lieutenant!” she snapped. “I don’t know what—”

  “Ma’am,” Lafontaine interrupted, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. The Admiral sent me to ask you if you’d join him for drinks and a brief conversation after the banquet. But, if I may, I’d really appreciate it if you’d let me say something to you on a personal level. Something I’m pretty sure the Admiral wouldn’t approve of my saying.”

  “And what would that be, Lieutenant Lafontaine?” Sinead asked coldly.

  “Two things, Ma’am,” Lafontaine said, meeting her eyes as levelly—and fearlessly—as Sinead knew Helen Zilwicki would have met someone’s on her husband’s behalf. “First, Admiral Tourville knows what happened to your husband’s squadron. In fact, he was one of the officers on the court-martial of the three State Security personnel who were ultimately hanged for what happened to those people, and he deeply regrets that the rest of the perpetrators managed to disappear before Republican forces liberated the planet on which they were held. He’s aware of all the reasons Sir Aivars—and you, as his wife—have for hating the People’s Republic of Haven, and he’s impressed that upon his entire staff.

  “Second—and this is what I think he wouldn’t approve of my telling you—even though Count Tilly, his flagship, escorted Cordelia Ransom and Tepes when Duchess Harrington was delivered to Cerberus, he loathed every moment of that trip. In fact, it was evident to everyone on his staff that once Ransom—and she was the one who insisted Admiral Theisman assign that duty to him—finished at Cerberus, she intended to take the Admiral back to Nouveau Paris to be tried before a People’s Court for treason against the Revolution because he’d protested the decision to hang the Duchess as a violation of the Deneb Accords. And he’s the one who allowed her and her people to reach the surface of Cerberus undetected.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Sinead said with cold skepticism. “And how did he do that?”

  “It’s never appeared in any official report, Ma’am,” Lafontaine said steadily, “and the Admiral’s never mentioned it, even to the Duchess. But when the two pinnaces her people stole for their escape separated from Tepes, they were tracked…but not reported. In fact, the tracking data was deleted.”

  “And how did this extraordinary series of events occur?”

  “Admiral Tourville personally deleted the data while People’s Commissioner Honecker was still staring at the main visual display.”

  Lafontaine never raised her voice, but her tone was flat, almost hard, and Sinead stared at her in disbelief. Then she gave her head a small shake.

  “And exactly why, do you think, the Admiral’s never told a soul about this?” she asked. “And, forgive me for asking, Lieutenant, but if he’s ‘never mentioned it’ to anyone, how does it happen you know?”

  “I can’t tell you for certain why he’s never mentioned it, Ma’am,” the lieutenant replied, still meeting her eyes unwaveringly. “My best guess is that it’s because he feels it would seem self-serving and because there’s no evidence he actually did it.” She shrugged ever so slightly. “It’s rather difficult to use erased tracking data to prove a point, Ms. Terekhov.”

  “All right,” Sinead said unwillingly. “I’ll admit that’s true. But I’d still be very interested to hear how it is you’re aware of this top-secret good deed of his.”

  “Admiral Foraker—she was only Citizen Commander Foraker then, of course—was Admiral Tourville’s operations officer, Ma’am,” Lafontaine said quietly. “She was the one who realized the pinnaces had separated from Tepes, and she was about to delete the data from Count Tilly’s database when she realized the Admiral was looking at her display over her shoulder. Then he reached past her and erased the data himself. And after he did that, he walked back across to People’s Commissioner Honecker and he said—these are his exact words, Ma’am—‘Too bad. There can’t be any survivors. Too bad…Lady Harrington deserved better than that.’ And the reason I know he did that, the reason I’ll never forget what he said, is that a very young ensign, by the name of Lafontaine, was Admiral Foraker’s assistant tracking officer on Count Tilly’s flag bridge that day.”

  The shock of it went through Sinead Terekhov like a splash of ice water, but those bright blue eyes never wavered.

  My God, it’s the truth, she thought. I don’t have to be a treecat to recognize the truth when I hear it. And he’s never told anyone? Not even Duchess Harrington herself?

  She turned her head, looking at the smiling Havenite officer with the bushy mustache, laughing at something Admiral Culbertson had just said, and then she looked back at Lafontaine.

  “Lieutenant,” she said, “please accept my profound apology for any rudeness I’ve shown you this evening. And thank you for sharin
g that with me. Should I assume you’d just as soon I didn’t tell Admiral Tourville you have?”

  “Ms. Terekhov, I think the Admiral would probably rip my head off if you told him,” Lafontaine said wryly. “Mind you, I think he’d hand it back later, and I really, really hope that someday all of this will come out. But if it does, I don’t think it’ll ever be because he told anyone. Personally, I’m hoping Admiral Foraker will be a little less reticent the next time she and Duchess Harrington come face-to-face.” The lieutenant smiled. “As you may have heard, Admiral Foraker isn’t a real stickler for strict military protocol. And she’d probably figure that, as a fellow admiral, she’d have a pretty fair chance of surviving his reaction!”

  “I understand.” Sinead’s smile was far warmer, and she reached out to lay a hand on Lafontaine’s forearm. “And I also understand how fortunate Admiral Tourville is to have you, Lieutenant.” Her fingers squeezed gently, then she removed her hand and reached for her dessert fork. “And please tell him I’ll be delighted—and honored—to meet with him after the banquet.”

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Kayleigh Blanchard settled back on her heels beside the dirty, improvised bedroll, leaning her shoulders against the wall behind her. She popped the top off the container of baked beans and the smart can did its job, heating the contents to serving temperature…which she rather wished it hadn’t. She’d lost her mess kit in the desperate scramble to evacuate her last command post day before yesterday, and the food was too hot to scoop out with her dirty fingers.