“Captain—”
“I’ll just be a minute. Let me get my jacket.”
“Captain Tivahr.”
He stopped. He was breathing heavily. He brought his right hand up, then let it fall in an exasperated gesture. “Hana, don’t. It’s been three days. Almost four. I haven’t seen her in all that time. Damn it, she almost died! I almost lost her.”
“Doc gave her a light trank. She needs to sleep for a while yet.”
He collapsed onto the couch. “You’re not going to let me see her, are you?”
“You’re still …” She hesitated.
“Dravda gera mevnahr?” he supplied. Ass over teakettle.
“Yes.”
He covered his mouth with his hand, then pulled on his mustache. “I know,” he said softly. “I know.”
“So will Kospahr.” She sat next to him on the couch, patted his shoulder. “Another day. Give it another day.”
“Just let me see her, a little bit. Today. That’ll help. Make it easier. I won’t be quite so crazy. I promise.”
She chuckled. “Liar.”
“Yes. I know.” Dejection colored his words.
“Captain—”
“She’s still angry over that, is she?”
“She didn’t say. She was worried about Dezi. And I had to make sure she understood what she had to remember. That’s all we really talked about. I didn’t want to tire her.”
“How’d she look?”
“A few bruises. But fine. Better than she did three days ago.”
Three days ago she had been cold and lifeless, terrifyingly still. And had his blood smeared on her hands.
He looked down at his own. They were completely healed. No scars, not from the unbreakable lightpen he’d snapped. Not from the impenetrable metal he’d torn in half. Thank you, Imperial genetics and technology.
“Tomorrow?” He couldn’t keep the hope out of his voice.
She stood. “Tomorrow.”
He walked her to the door of his quarters, then leaned against the wall after she left.
Tomorrow was technically only six and a half hours away. But he knew it would be at least another six after that before any visit he could make to sick bay would be considered reasonable.
Twelve and a half hours. Thirteen, knowing Commander Hana Jankova. He found his jacket in the other room on his bed, on top of a large stuffed felinar that smelled like powder and flowers.
He’d go play Loathsome Arrogant Bastard Captain for a while with his crew. It would help pass the time.
Unfortunately, Durwin Kospahr caught up with him twenty minutes later, just as he left the bridge.
“Captain Tivahr!”
“What, Lord Minister?” he asked without caring.
Kospahr had to quicken his stride to keep up. “I’ve been reviewing Lieutenant Gurdan’s report, as well as the data from Captain Elliot’s ship. Her knowledge of the traders’ lanes is quite remarkable.”
Rhis stopped before the lift, palmed the button. “She’s a freighter operator. It’s part of her job.” He decided to head down to engineering. Surely this idiot wouldn’t follow him there?
“But some of these lanes haven’t been used in centuries! And there are other routes into our Empire.”
He’d seen Trilby’s files on those, recognized a few of them. But Trilby had a few even he hadn’t known about. As she’d told him, everything sooner or later ended up at Port Rumor.
“I’m aware of the routes in her nav banks. The old ones were abandoned because they can’t support the faster, heavier ships. And newer technology. The guidance beacons, especially the Conclave ones, are weak. Or nonfunctional.”
“Yes. Of course.” Kospahr seemed disappointed he hadn’t found something else to prove the fallibility of the Captain Tivahr. “But perhaps they could be put to some use in the commercial sector? I could bring this up to my cousin the emperor.”
“They’d be of more use to the Imperial Fleet.” The lift arrived. Rhis stepped quickly inside and swore silently when Kospahr followed.
“Engineering,” he said.
“But you said the guidance beacons are weak? Old?”
“They are.”
“But how then could we use them?”
Rhis glared down at the man. He’d been playing with just that theory for a while. He didn’t need Kospahr’s interference. “That, Lord Minister, is on a need-to-know basis. And you don’t have a need to know.”
“But the ’Sko! Grantforth!”
“I already thought of that. And have discussed it with Emperor Kasmov.”
“But, but I didn’t see any report.”
“I didn’t issue one.”
The lift indicator beeped twice. “Engineering Deck,” said a tinny autovoice.
Rhis turned. “I have work to do. If you’ll excuse me.” He nodded, then strode out into the corridor. And swore again when quick footsteps thudded behind.
“Captain Tivahr!”
Rhis stopped and counted to ten before turning around. Two engineering techs caught the look on his face and fled in the opposite direction.
“You talked to the emperor without speaking to me first?”
“Several times.”
“I demand to know the content of those conversations!”
“You will if, and only if, I deem it advisable for you to do so.”
“But we will be making a move on the Conclave within two weeks! We—”
“Kospahr!” Rhis grabbed the front of the man’s expensive jacket, drew him up to his toes. He watched Kospahr’s face turn purple, heard the man choke. Gods, that felt good.
He released him. Kospahr stumbled, his hand coming up to his throat. “You fool! You—”
“No. You’re the fool. We’re in an open corridor and you’re blabbering about an upcoming mission. Against a neighboring system.” Rhis’s voice was a low, angry growl.
“But this is your ship! The Razalka,” Kospahr whined.
“It is my ship. And on my ship, discretion is the rule. Either you follow this rule, or I will have you removed to Degvar. Do I make myself clear?”
Kospahr stepped back. “You don’t have to tell me the rules, Captain. I am the second lord minister of defense. The emperor is my cousin.” He turned on his heels and stalked away.
Rhis took two long deep breaths. Well, that’s an improvement. It’s no longer ‘my cousin the emperor.’ Now it’s ‘the emperor is my cousin.’
He pulled back his sleeve, glanced at his watch. Eleven hours, fifteen minutes to go.
He rearranged the scowl on his face and headed for engineering.
16
He called sick bay on intraship from his office at 0600. “Doc—”
“Jankova says no.”
Hana Jankova, he wanted to tell the man, did not run this ship. He did. But Jankova ran his tactical team, his special-operations missions. He’d put her in charge of those areas three years ago.
And Captain Trilby Elliot had become part of a special-operations mission. So for now, Jankova was in charge.
Which was, Rhis knew, for the better. For the moment. He didn’t get where he was in the Fleet by surrounding himself with stupid, incompetent people who didn’t know their strengths from their weaknesses. Jankova knew his as well.
He paced the length of his office. Straightened some of the plaques and awards in his wall cabinet that had shifted when he’d slammed into it during his mad charge. Poked his fingers into the rip in the chair in front of his desk. He could patch it with duct tape. That’d give it a nice, familiar feel.
His door chimed. He looked up. Jankova and Kospahr.
Oh, joy.
He reached for his coffee, leaned a hip on the edge of his desk. “Come.”
Kospahr bustled in. “The commander tells me I’ll be able to talk to that Elliot woman this morning.”
“At 1100 hours.” Jankova met Rhis’s gaze levelly.
Kospahr strode past the large desk as if it were his office and
not that of the Razalka’s captain. He stood with his back to them for a moment, stared out the viewport. A portion of Degvar’s upper levels was visible.
“I want you there, Tivahr,” he said, turning. “She probably doesn’t know enough about Imperial politics to appreciate who I am. But I’m sure she’s afraid of you, especially after all that’s happened. And if she isn’t, I’m sure you can give her reason to be.”
“She saved my life.” Rhis ignored the warning look from Jankova.
“In exchange for reward money, your report said. Understandable, given the level of person she is. Port Rumor.” A distasteful look crossed Kospahr’s face. “Never been there, but I’ve heard.”
“Why do you need to talk to her? You have the reports. The emperor and the Council are in agreement with our recommendations. Your job is done, Kospahr.” Something in him balked at the idea of having Trilby and Durwin Kospahr in the same room. He didn’t want her tainted by the man’s sliminess.
Kospahr shot a quick glance at Jankova before answering. “Many reasons, but if nothing else, curiosity. I’ll admit that. You may have been impressed by her technical skills. I was too. But I’d like to see for myself what a Grantforth whore looks like. Gurdan said she’s a looker.”
He was already moving before Kospahr finished his sentence, but so was Jankova. And he had to clear his desk to get to the lord minister. Jankova only had to step right in front of him, hand on his arm, delaying him as if she’d just thought of something.
“Oh, by the way, Captain Tivahr. As long as we’re on the subject of Grantforth, I’ve some new information you might want to look at.” She squeezed his arm, hard. He got the message. Don’t go dravda gera mevnahr now.
He sat down in his chair as if that’s where he was headed all along. He swiveled away from Kospahr, worked on composing his features back to a semblance of normalcy, and tapped at his screen. “It’s in my private files, Commander?”
“Not yet. I just learned of it as I went to meet the lord minister at his quarters. I should have more details by the time we talk to Captain Elliot.”
“You didn’t tell me this!” Kospahr’s tone was accusatory.
“I’d only have to repeat it twice, Lord Minister. I’m telling you and Captain Tivahr now.”
Rhis admired her gumption at standing up to Kospahr. He began to understand that Hana Jankova was more than just an inquisitive mind and compassionate heart. There was a good chunk of gutsiness in her too. Not unlike his air sprite.
He leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingers over his face. Ignored Kospahr. “What’s the nature of this information, Commander?”
“A communiqué from GGA offices.”
“To Tril—to Captain Elliot?”
She nodded. “It carries Jagan Grantforth’s transit code.”
He raised one eyebrow. Another good-bye letter? Or a plea to resume the relationship?
“It’s privacy-locked, however.” Jankova glanced at Kospahr, who stepped away from the viewport, his fleshy face angled toward her in interest. “And as the Careless Venture took considerable damage, we can’t use her own comm pack to open it. My team’s working on it. We hope to have something before 1100 hours.”
“Get on it, then, get on it!” Kospahr waved his hand angrily in her direction. “This could be important.”
“I’m well aware of that, Lord Minister.”
Rhis glanced at the time stamp on his screen: 0730. Three and a half hours. “I agree with Minister Kospahr,” he said. “The message may contain something of import. I’ll accompany you over to tactical, take a look at the code structure.” He stood. He knew damned well he could unlock that message. So did Jankova. He didn’t think she’d withheld its arrival but that it probably happened just as she’d said: she’d learned about it at Kospahr’s door.
He knew now she would’ve told him about the transmit as soon as Kospahr left. His own stupid reaction to the lord minister’s words had forced her to reveal it, to divert him.
“I’ll go with you too.” Kospahr was already trying to get into step with him.
Rhis bit back his original reply, changing it quickly to something he knew would work. “Fine. Then I’ll contact the emperor myself about this new development.” His office door closed behind them. “You can wait in the tactical division while the—”
“No, no! I’ll talk to my cousin the emperor at once. You’re not a diplomat, Tivahr. You don’t know how to phrase things. You go take care of the minor technical parts. I’ll handle the emperor.” Kospahr walked down the corridor, puffing.
He thought it was time to show Jankova Trilby’s J file. He got himself tea, then glared over the shoulders of her team while she watched the transmits in the privacy of her office, across the corridor from the tactical briefing room.
Ten minutes later he crossed the corridor again, waited a moment until her door slid sideways.
“Innocent enough,” she said as he took the solitary seat across from her desk. “Until you consider the players.”
“Just your normal love affair between an unknown, destitute freighter operator and one of the wealthiest CEOs in the Conclave.”
“If she’d sought him out, it would make more sense.”
“He sought her out. Right after Uncle Garold was appointed chief secretary.”
“Coincidence?” She said it in such a way he knew she didn’t believe that. “And now he wants her back. Zalia’s not making him happy.”
“Coincidence,” he said. He finished his tea, then stood. “It’s 1030.”
She glanced up at him, her mouth opening, but he held up one hand. “I’m going to go down to sick bay and harass Doc and the med-techs. Promise I won’t go to her room until you arrive with Kospahr. I leave to you the pleasant duty of escorting him.”
“Making me suffer for making you suffer?”
He stopped in the doorway. “Something like that.” He stepped through.
He knew the picture he presented, standing stiffly in the corner of the room. Military perfection. Imperial Arrogance on display. Shoulders level, back ramrod straight, chin high, hands clasped behind his waist.
Kospahr probably thought he was doing it to intimidate Trilby. In truth, he was doing it because it was the only way he could keep from reaching for her, dragging her into his arms. His hands were shaking.
He saw something flicker in her eyes when he followed Jankova and Kospahr in. But she looked away quickly and then studied the second lord minister of defense. He caught the hint of a wry smile curve on her lips as Kospahr introduced himself, listed his credentials.
Imperial Arrogance at its worst.
“If it weren’t for the Empire’s impressive medical technology,” Kospahr told Trilby, “you might not be here.”
“If the Empire didn’t require its officers to be Gods damned liars, I wouldn’t have to be here.” She pointed at Rhis. “I pulled his ungrateful ass out of a swamp. So he tries to kill me, then takes my ship. Promising me reward money. Promising me I’m free to go once I get him back here.”
Rhis heard the venom in her voice, had the feeling that much of Trilby’s ire was not feigned, in spite of Jankova’s explanations.
“So what do I get?” She spread her hands. “Nothing. A cup of tea. A meal. And lies. Then a squadron of his fighters blows my ass into next septi.” She glared at Rhis, then looked back at Kospahr. “Do you blame me?”
“Yes, Captain, I do!” Kospahr replied. “You obviously have no understanding of what has transpired in the past two months with the ’Sko. Nor do I expect you to. But we are engaged in some very serious business, and your petty needs will have to wait.”
“You have no right to hold me here. I’m a citizen of the Conclave. If I file a report on what he did, you might find yourself in the middle of another untidy war.”
Kospahr took a step back. Clearly, that glaring fact had escaped the sharp mind of the career politician. But it was something Rhis had been aware of all along. It was time for h
im to pick up his part of this drama.
“You might want to rethink your position on that, Captain Elliot. We have reason to believe an official in your own government has negotiated a kill order on you with the ’Sko. The Conclave may not be as concerned with your safe return as you think.” Unfortunately, that was the truth.
Trilby shot him a haughty took he remembered well. “So you say. You know damned well I can’t read Ycskrite.”
“Believe me,” Kospahr said, “we are not trying to protect you because we find your company charming!”
“Protect me?” Trilby turned quickly toward the portly man, and Rhis saw her wince from the movement. “You damned near killed me.”
“Because you departed a military outpost without permission,” Rhis said evenly. “And you refused to respond to a request to power down.” That, too, was true. If she hadn’t run, Degvar’s squadron would have towed her back unharmed.
“That was very foolish on your part,” he added.
“No. The only foolishness on my part was not leaving you on Avanar to play tiddlywinks with the vampire snakes. They’d probably find your company charming.”
Kospahr moved closer to her bed, gave her an oily smile. “Perhaps we should both admit there have been some misunderstandings. If Captain Tivahr has been harsh in his methods, you must understand it is because that is what he was trained to do. But I am here now. To take over, to rectify his mistakes. You should be thankful a second lord minister such as I takes an interest in your case.”
Kospahr reached for her hand. Trilby snatched it away. Rhis started to snicker, then turned it into a cough when Jankova jabbed him with her elbow.
Kospahr didn’t bother to turn around to see what the commotion was about. “The reality is, my dear, you need our help. And we need yours. There is no reason this cannot be a comfortable partnership.”
“More lies?” She looked over his shoulder at Rhis. Her face was pale, her eyes looked larger than he remembered. Sooty with shadows. There was a bruise fading on the edge of her jaw. Another across the base of her throat where the safety harness had branded her. Her soft, pale hair looked like disheveled moonlight.
Yav chera, he wanted to tell her, but she had asked about lies. Not about what was driving him crazy.
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