“That’s exactly what I have been trying to explain to Command, but they won’t hear any appeal until the next meeting.”
“Meetings, hearings, blame…” he said. “I don’t remember any of this nonsense going on during the Perseus conflict. In those days you limped back to a fortress with stories of battle, and people bought you drinks until you could no longer see straight.”
“Those were the days,” said Santani.
“They most certainly were.”
“It all seems so different now.”
“You’re telling me. From what I hear, the Empire is under attack on all sides by this new race. They’ve been hitting smaller colonies — apparently for some time now. Then Meccrace Prime fell… it beggars belief that Fleet Command has dragged its heels over this. And taking experienced commanders off duty, instead of sending us out to meet the threat!”
Santani’s face was a picture. Betombe imagined her brain struggling to cope with the idea that an admiral would criticise Command in a conversation with an officer of a lower rank.
“It doesn’t inspire confidence,” she said.
“You can do better than that,” he said. “There’s no need to be noncommittal with me.”
“It’s a bloody shambles,” she sputtered.
“That’s more like it.”
“I can’t believe there hasn’t been more of an uproar amongst the captains, not to mention the admiralty.”
“Don’t underestimate the willingness of some people to toe the party line,” Betombe said. “Take Fleet Captain Riese for example. She’s been recalled to Ramm Stallahad, quite mysteriously. It seems fairly obvious to me that she is being debriefed about Seawall, and she plans to support Bel-Messari.”
“Why would she do that, given the current situation?”
“She’s had her eye on the rank of Admiral for a while now,” he said. “I’m betting she would be happy to transfer to the Fourth Fleet to take that role, and leave the Sixth behind. If she can help to oust me then that puts her in a good position when they offer the job out.”
“I can’t get my head around that. That flag officers would behave in such a manner.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Captain, but you were commanding Hammer quite happily for a long, long time. You probably haven’t had cause to peek over the parapet and watch what kind of politics are going on in the fleet.”
“I can’t really argue with that,” she said.
“Something needs to change.”
Santani blinked a couple of times, looked around, and peered into the holo.
“What exactly are you suggesting, Admiral?”
“I’m not suggesting anything,” he said. “Just commenting that the current regime is not so focused on defence as it ought to be. I think that it might be advantageous to the Imperial Combine to get some fresh perspectives into the navy.”
“I’m really not sure that this is an appropriate topic for us to be discussing—”
“Oh it isn’t, not at all. But you see Captain, this conversation is likely being monitored. And now Fleet Command has a dilemma: to suggest that I have been making seditious comments, they will have to admit to having me under surveillance. Your move, Command.”
Santani stared back at him, her face broadcasting her incredulity plainly.
“Don’t worry so, Captain Santani. I think it should be quite obvious to anyone with half a brain that you are entirely innocent of any treasonous talk.”
“But I said it was a shambles…”
“A statement of fact, that’s all it was,” Betombe assured her. “It is a bloody shambles. I would gladly challenge anyone to demonstrate otherwise.”
“Are you sure this is being monitored?”
“As sure as I am that all three of my ex-wives are in cahoots with each other.”
“Is that a yes?”
Betombe looked proud. “Yes. ‘The Coven’, I call them.”
“Then I’m not really happy to continue the conversation, if that’s all right with you.”
“Oh by all means, Captain, go and tend to your own problems. I apologise for shocking you with my unruly methods.”
“Will you not get into more trouble for this?”
“I should jolly well expect so. But don’t worry about me Aker. Wheels within wheels, you see. Wheels within wheels.”
• • •
Fort Sol was the busiest naval installation Caden had ever set foot upon. From the moment he stepped out onto the docking ring he found himself dragged along by a current of bustling, hurrying bodies, all bound for the long, sweeping curve of the arrival gates at the periphery of the debarkation area. The worst part was the elbows.
When he arrived at a gate and presented his digital seal, he expected to be let through immediately. But the guard at the gate gestured for him to wait.
“Problem?” Caden asked.
“New protocol, Sir,” said the guard. “Will you provide a swab, please?”
Caden eyed the man with suspicion when — without waiting for Caden’s consent — he tore through the seal on a plastic packet.
“What new protocol?”
“Anyone could be using your seal,” said the guard. “We’re now required to check biological identity for all high level visitors, without exception. You know, what with Kosling and all. Imagine what could happen if an intruder had your access credentials.”
“I suppose it’s much less intrusive than what some people experience here,” Caden conceded.
The guard pulled a long, thin stick from the packet, and indicated that it was intended to go in the mouth. Caden opened his mouth, allowed the guard to rub the soft end of the stick against the inside of his cheek, and watched carefully as he then placed the stick inside a glass canister.
“Now what; I wait here for two to three days?”
The guard smiled. “New kit.”
He plugged the end of the canister into his console. It sank into the machine with a reassuring hiss, and a holo blinked into life above the aperture.
“It’ll just be a moment.”
Caden looked around, at the other people coming through Arrivals. Most of them looked like civilians: contractors, business representatives, scientists. Few of them were moving through the gates quickly, in fact most spent several minutes convincing the guards they were who they said they were. Providing documentation, digital seals and links, certified holo idents, biometric samples. Some went to side rooms for interviews.
At least security is being taken more seriously now, he thought. Just a shame Fort Kosling had to burn up first. But would a DNA profile check even identify a Rasa?
“All done,” said the guard. “Welcome to Fort Sol, Shard Caden. Enjoy your stay.”
“Thank you,” said Caden. “Although I’m not sure I’ll be here long enough to enjoy it.”
He made his way out of the debarkation area and headed for one of the many refreshment lounges in the outer ring; a small but stimulating area with bright orange highlights and furnishings which enlivened the plain white decking and bulkheads of the station.
Two minutes later he sat down wearily with a tall drink. He resumed his holo and registered it with the fortress, dragging down on the docking list symbol and searching the lists for the Disputer.
There it was: docking bay fifteen. He tapped the icon and selected the COMOP station. His holo passed the call back to his link.
“Disputer — COMOP station. Go ahead.”
“Hello, it’s Shard Caden. I’m supposed to be travelling back to Ramm Stallahad with you.”
“Shard Caden, yes,” said COMOP. “We already have you on our registry from last time. Let me see…”
“Oh of course, my holo is already linked to your systems.”
“…Yes, I have it here. You’re shown on the passenger manifest, as is your associate Euryce Eilentes.”
“How long do we have?”
“We depart for the Herses system in three hours. I suggest being here e
arly, because Captain Thande will not wait for stragglers.”
“Don’t I know it,” he said. “See you then.”
“Good day, Sir.”
His next call was to Eilentes.
“Where are you?”
“Leaving now,” she said. “The shuttle is about to launch.”
“You’re still on Earth?”
“Yes. What? I’m almost able to enjoy it. I don’t know about you, but I really needed this.”
“Unfortunately I’ve not had the time to have a good time.”
There was a pause; presumably Eilentes had remembered why Caden was on Earth in the first place.
“I’ll be there in a couple of hours.”
“See you then.” He ended the call.
His eyes wandered across the passageway to the bulkhead opposite the lounge. A printwall was cycling its display, loading the next set of headlines.
MYSTERY SHIPS SPOTTED AGAIN it said.
MANY GATES NOW INACCESSIBLE.
MIGRANTS FLOOD THE 6-K SYSTEMS.
He was about to suspend his holo and stow it away when the display prompted him with another incoming call.
“What now?”
Appatine. The name rang a bell.
“Shard Caden?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“You probably don’t know me, but my name is Mostrum Appatine. I’m… I was Ider Firenz’s counterpart.”
“Ider,” said Caden. “I heard she’s been murdered.”
“I’m afraid so,” said the counterpart.
“I’m sorry to hear that. We served together during the Trinity Crisis. She was a good Shard, and an excellent friend.”
“I’m afraid I wasn’t with her for long,” said Appatine. “She was supposed to be evaluating me. But from what I saw she was… very experienced.”
“But Maber Castigon still got the better of her.”
“He did. And me too, I’m afraid to say. I wasn’t good enough.”
“He’s a dangerous man,” said Caden, “and you did well enough just to survive the encounter.”
“It’s kind of you to say that, but the fact is I let Ider down. I wasn’t there when she needed me most.”
“Listen, Mostrum — is it okay if I call you Mostrum? — Castigon was butchering his way across the galaxy. He killed many Shards in just a single fortnight, and counterparts too. Don’t beat yourself up about it too much. You’re just a probationer. Those others he killed? They were some of the best.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“I heard you were injured.”
“Bastard severed my spinal cord. I’ve had the plates fitted for a neural bypass, but I’m still waiting on the shunt.”
“Worlds. But you’ll walk again, yes?”
“Practically good as new, they tell me. In a couple of weeks my brain and legs won’t know the difference.”
“I hope it goes well for you.”
“So do I, because the first thing I want to do when I’m back in circulation is go kill that murdering fuck.”
Caden paused for a moment.
“Admirable courage, but are you sure that’s a good idea? He pretty much left you for dead last time.”
“I’m a quick learner. I know you’ve been told to hunt him down, and I know you’re without a counterpart right now.”
“I can see what you’re getting at. Look, don’t take this the wrong way Mostrum, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. You’re not healed yet, and — with the best will in the many worlds — you’re still green.”
“I’m motivated.”
“I don’t doubt it. But you would almost certainly get yourself killed if you were hanging around me at the moment. In any case, I’m guessing you didn’t hear about this but the likelihood is that Castigon is dead. That’s sort of the whole reason I am in need of a new counterpart.”
“I know. Sorry about that. Throam was someone we looked up to back at the academy.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah… totally famous. Infamous almost.”
“What did they say about him?”
“That he was the kind of man nobody wanted to cross, and when people did cross him they tended to end up in pieces. They said his was the sort of reputation we ought to try and cultivate for ourselves.”
Caden nodded along as Appatine spoke. He could not think of a better way to describe Ren as a counterpart. Okay, so it hardly did him justice as a man, but it was highly accurate as an executive summary of his particular professional manner.
“What did they say about me?”
“At the Counterpart Academy? Not a lot to be honest.”
“Oh.”
“But then they didn’t really mention many Shards by name,” Appatine added hastily. “It was all ‘Shards will expect you to do this’ and ‘don’t let your Shard stick his nose in such-and-such’.”
“Sounds about right.”
“But anyway… I’m not green enough to think you really believe Castigon is dead. It was in your voice.”
“I’m trying to be optimistic about it.”
“Are you sure you won’t reconsider me?”
“I can see you’re invested, and enthusiastic, but honestly Mostrum — it’s not a good idea. I don’t want to end up referring to you as a liability, and I definitely don’t want to be delivering another death notice any time soon. I’m sorry.”
“It was worth a shot.”
• • •
“Seriously, Boss. I’m fuckin’ sick of this.”
Kabis Borreto sighed inwardly. Truth be told, he was sick of it too. But ever since they had fled the Meccrace system he had been loath to use major gates, or even to put down at any of the more respectable worlds. At some point, someone was going to figure out that their comms array was the one which had sent a databurst full of footage of the incursion directly to the network. When that moment came he wanted to be in free space, with the ship’s GNG coils fully charged and all of his options open.
“Boss. Oi, boss. Did you hear me? Boss.”
Prayer Monsul kicked him in the knee.
“Okay Prayer. Yes, I heard you.”
“We ever going back to civilisation?”
He swung his legs carefully out of range before he answered. “Not yet, Prayer.”
She gave a disgusted snort and unbuckled her restraints. Pushing herself off from her seat, she used a hand grip on the bulkhead to reorient herself towards the flight cabin.
“This shit is getting old,” she said.
“You want to spend the rest of your life in a correctional compound, I’ll drop you off at the next class three planet we see.”
“At least I wouldn’t be looking at this fuckin’ joke of a ship for the rest of my life.”
She slapped the control to open the flight cabin’s single hatch, and disappeared up front. Seconds after the hatch slid closed behind her, Borreto heard her complaining to Sayad.
“You’re not a joke,” Borreto told the Leo Fortune. “Best ship I ever flew in.”
He patted the bulkhead reassuringly.
The hatch slid open again, and Sayad Idiri propelled himself back to the main compartment. Borreto saw the look on his face, realised Prayer was right behind the pilot, and braced himself for verbal mutiny.
“I can’t take much more of this, Kabis,” said Sayad.
“You both know we can’t get close to any patrolled systems right now—”
“Not that, her. I’m trying to run a diagnostic on the navigational systems, and she’s yammering on about how she hasn’t eaten actual food for a week. Oh boo fucking hoo.”
Borreto was somewhat taken aback. After all the times he had heard Prayer running her foul mouth all over his ship — and that was a minute by minute occurrence — he sort of viewed himself as being immune to cursing. Perhaps it was just that it was so novel hearing it come from Sayad. The guy never swore; nobody really needed to with Prayer around.
“Hey,” Prayer said. She crossed h
er arms.
“Why are you running a diagnostic on the navigational system?”
“Because I thought we had a problem with the GNGs, but all the hardware checked out just fine. The only other likely explanation is that the nav is on the fritz.”
“What in the many worlds are you talking about?”
“The last five wormholes we opened became increasingly less accurate,” said Sayad. “They’re only small discrepancies, so I didn’t think it was worth mentioning before. But you’d expect tiny, random variation in wormholes of the same length, and those would scale up with transit distance. This is different.”
“Different how?” Borreto did not like the sound of this.
“It’s like there’s a pattern superimposed on top of all the normal variations. A pattern of increasing uncertainty.”
“From where?”
“That’s exactly what I’m trying to find out, but I can’t get that finished with the ship’s self-elected complaints bureau yelling in my ear.”
“Sayad you fuckin’ prick, leave it out,” Prayer protested.
“Prayer please, this is important,” Borreto said. “Sayad, get back to it. Prayer will stay here with me, I promise. She can look over the diagnostic logs you’ve made so far…”
Sayad looked at Borreto as if he had peed on his bunk.
“What? Yes, you know the drive and nav systems inside-out, but Prayer is the engineer on this ship. She may see something you missed. Go back to it, and keep me informed this time.”
“You betcha.”
Sayad pulled himself along the bulkhead, hand over hand, carefully avoided Prayer, and slid back into the flight cabin.
Borreto shouted after him. “What about the unlikely explanations?”
Sayad poked his head back through the hatch. “Well… they’d be things like the shape of the entire galaxy changing. We don’t exit where we want to exit because it’s not there any more; that kind of thing.”
“Right. Yeah… so navigational diagnostic it is then.”
Sayad disappeared once more, and closed the hatch after him.
“I really need a proper shower,” Prayer volunteered.
Borreto knew she was just trying to bridge the gap between silence and argument.
“You don’t need to tell me that,” he said, and sniffed loudly.
Books One to Three Omnibus (Armada Wars) Page 63