“Given Ilyana’s information, I think it makes a lot of sense.”
But Jos shook his head. “Yakutsk is a shipyard. A parts dealership. A big one, yes, and a good one; but it’s a commodity business. They’re hardly stealing food out of the mouths of Fifth Sector children.”
“Maybe the Ellis rep is telling the truth,” Foster suggested. “Maybe this is an attempt at good PR. They still need their corporate image.”
Not for much longer. “Captain Foster.” Jos took a breath. Damn, he didn’t think anything could shake him worse than losing Athena Relay. “Listen to me. Ellis is a shrewd player indeed, and PR is part of their arsenal. But there is no way they send anyone—not even some low-level sales drone—to a Fourth Sector shipyard for PR. We need to do more than keep an eye on them. We need to find out why they’re here.”
Their discussion was interrupted by Foster’s comm. “Yes, Lieutenant Samaras?” the captain said.
“Sir.” Foster had set his comm to be audible, and Jos found himself grateful for the courtesy. “Sir, Ellis Systems is making an announcement over the stream. I think—we may want to pipe it ship-wide, sir.”
“Go ahead.”
A voice, baritone, friendly and comforting, began speaking over the ship’s comms, and the room fell quickly silent. “. . . frightening news from the First Sector. Like all of you, we here at Ellis Systems are hoping for a quick resolution to the situation, and the arrival of only good news. In aid of that, we are actively assisting Olam Colony, who has launched their defense fleet to the First Sector. The fleet will arrive there within a few days, and will provide assistance and defense as necessary.
“In addition to assisting Olam, we are offering all colonies in need of parts and environmental repairs free or reduced-price assistance for the duration of this crisis. Please contact your local Ellis Systems representative for more information, or simply reply to this comm.” The voice paused with practiced drama. “We are all concerned for our friends and family, but with the help of the Olam Fleet, we will no doubt hear the best possible news very soon. Ellis out.”
Jos’s eyes swept the crowd. People were talking, and a few looked hopeful; but most of them looked angry. They remembered, he realized. Every officer on this ship, infantry or medical, ensign or commander, remembered Ellis, remembered Canberra, remembered the wormhole.
It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. But that ember of hope clinging to life in Jos’s heart flared, just a little, to see it.
“Since when,” Foster said, “does Olam have a defense fleet? Our intel has called them VIP starships.”
“We’ve suspected for a while,” Jos said. No harm in telling him now.
“And you said nothing.”
“You’re not a Fifth Sector ship, Captain Foster.”
Those bright eyes flashed with anger, and Foster’s fist closed on the table before him. “If the Fifth Sector is mobilizing a military,” he said, “that’s something everyone needs to know.”
“Possibly.” Jos let his gaze harden; retired or not, he still had more experience than Foster. “But that was neither your call nor mine, Captain. And at this point, it’s entirely irrelevant, don’t you think?”
“Do you really think they’re going back there to defend the First Sector?”
This time Jos took the opportunity to sit back. His shoulders ached, and his knees; it was difficult sitting in one position for a long time. Pritchard, his aide, had been telling him for some time he should get grafts for his knees, at the very least; he’d only be off his feet for a few days, and it might help. Jos didn’t know how to explain to a young, able-bodied man that he felt he had earned his discomfort, the pain and degradation of age, that it was his pride and his shame, and his only reminder of the fact that once, long ago and far away, he had thought he would become a different man. “I think,” he said, finding himself wanting to be kind, “it is possible that Olam wants to help, and if that’s the case, well, our worries are unfounded. But if it’s not—they will not find the First Sector asleep at the switch.”
Foster clearly wanted to ask him more questions. Actually, Jos thought, Foster clearly wanted to throw punches, and Jos suspected the captain would, at the first opportunity, adjourn to the ship’s gymnasium to run off some of his impotent fury. Jos knew how he felt. He’d had to figure out how to manage impotent fury for the last twenty-seven years of his life.
That temper’ll kill you young, Jos. There were days he wished it had.
“We’re going to need to talk to Villipova and Oarig again,” Foster said at last. His expression had relaxed, but his fist was still clenched. “Whatever Ellis is up to, I don’t want them playing Smolensk and Baikul against each other. Maybe this, at least, we can contain.” He stood and came to attention, although he did not salute. “Thank you, Admiral.”
Jos watched Foster walk away, taking his time going through the crowd, stopping to give reassurances to everyone who approached. Confident, strong, fearless, never mind what he was feeling inside.
And then Jos’s eyes fell on Ilyana. She, too, was watching Foster, but her eyebrows had drawn together, and she was frowning, as formidably as any Corps starship captain ever frowned. For a moment, Jos thought he saw rage on her face, in her body, how she sat, how she held her arms and her head: nearly uncontrollable fury, self-righteous and infinitely hot.
And then she blinked, and caught his eye, and smiled at him, and he decided he had been projecting again.
Chapter 23
As she disembarked from the shuttle in Galileo’s landing bay, Chiedza looked shiftily around as if she were evaluating it for salvage. Of course, Elena realized, that might be her own biases; as a Syndicate raider, Chi would have known what parts she could sell, and what was more trouble than it was worth to steal. Still, it was impossible to find Chi too threatening, even with that look on her face. Her arms were full of an irritable but subdued Mehitabel, who kept glaring at Elena as if the entire situation were her fault.
When Elena had asked if Nai wanted them to wait with her until Yuri arrived, Nai had just raised her eyebrows. “I rather like the peace and quiet,” she said. “Especially without that cat.”
Elena had argued that the cat could stay behind, that large dishes of food and water would be sufficient to keep the animal for a few days. “It’s Arin’s cat,” was all Chiedza said, and that seemed to settle the question.
Elena sent them off with the duty officer, who had arranged guest quarters on the same deck as Admiral Herrod. It was small and petty, but it pleased Elena to be housing a former thief right around the corner from the duplicitous admiral.
With whom she needed to have a serious talk.
But before she could track down the admiral, Bear commed her. Lovely, she thought. The first call I get on a brand-new comm and I’m going to get yelled at.
But he didn’t sound angry. “Can you come to the infirmary, Elena?”
Her stomach knotted. “Is Arin all right?”
“He’s fine. He’s recovering. But nobody’s telling us anything here.”
Of course. Bob got tight-lipped and protective with his patients when things were happening. In most situations, that tactic allowed people to rest. For Bear, never mind Arin, it would be alarming. “I’ll be right there, Bear. But the truth is there’s not much to tell yet.”
When she arrived, Arin was sitting up, Bear pacing restlessly next to the bed. They both looked at her when she walked in, eyes anxious. Even Bear, out here for so many years, in so many ways more experienced than she was, wanted her reassurance.
They think I know something. She wondered if it would be better or worse if they understood how in the dark she really was.
Cautiously, unsure of her welcome, she gave Arin an easy smile. “You’re looking well,” she said.
“I’d get up if they’d let me.” He sounded annoyed, but not with her, and she allowed herself a moment of relief.
“Elena, what’s going on?” Bear broke in. �
��All we’re hearing is that nobody can contact the First Sector, and then we get some PR bullshit from Ellis. What the hell does it all mean?”
She took a breath and outlined what she knew. “So it’s possible,” she concluded, “that what we’re dealing with is nothing more than a massive comms failure. I know we can’t be sure at the moment,” she added, anticipating the question, “but we’ve hit similar problems in the past, and that’s what fits the current evidence we’ve got.”
“Will Athena come back?” Arin asked.
Truth or dare? She chose truth. “I don’t know.” Bear glared at her, and she glared back. “Nobody knows anything right now,” she insisted. “With the relay down, everything has to take another route, and Hemera Relay won’t pick anything up for another couple of hours. There are some freighters and science ships heading for the perimeter to see if they can pick up some of the slack, and Chi’s going to see if she knows anyone in the area. But we’re not hearing anything from anyone yet.”
Bear looked away, and she tensed for an angry onslaught. But when he spoke, he was calm and collected, no longer a worried father, but a freighter captain. “So for now, there’s nothing for us to do.”
“Even if we went full-bore back to Earth, it’d be weeks before we got there. Better to wait and find out what we can from closer ships.”
He turned back, regarding her speculatively. “In a situation like this,” he asked, “how much is the Corps going to stand on regulations?”
“If you’re worried about Chi,” Elena said, “don’t. I can’t believe, under the circumstances, that the Corps won’t cheerfully take the intelligence wherever they can get it.”
“But you don’t know.”
She closed her eyes. “No, I don’t know. And frankly, Bear, if Chi’s friends get burned, they’ll get burned because they earned it. But Chi’s out, isn’t she? Not even the Corps is going to go after her for guilt by association.”
It occurred to her then that she and Bear were talking as if the Corps would be in control, responsible for information distribution and relief efforts. They were talking as if this was war.
We are already at war.
As far as she knew, Arin’s family consisted of Yuri and Bear; but he was nineteen, and he almost certainly had friends on Earth. Bear, as she recalled, had an older sister. “Syndicates or not,” she told them, trying to sound reassuring, “we’ll hear something soon. And in the meantime—” She smiled at Arin. “Chi brought that damn cat. I wouldn’t count on Bob letting her in here, but you could always try sneaking.”
“No more sneaking,” Bear declared, and Arin laughed, and for a moment, the universe was normal.
Herrod’s door was opened by a man a little younger than Elena: tall, gangly, with a sharp chin and wary eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said, stiffly polite. “The admiral isn’t seeing anyone right now.”
Elena considered him. Jessica had frequently observed that she had a tendency to bash through people, but in her defense, it often worked. “You’re Pritchard,” she said, and he straightened.
“I’m the admiral’s aide. When he becomes available, I will tell him you stopped by.”
“Well,” she said, “that’s very nice of you.” She crossed her arms and shifted her weight, leaning ostentatiously against the doorframe. “But as I’ll just be standing here until you’ve done that, perhaps you could do it now and save us both some time.”
His eyes narrowed, and she noticed the shadows beneath them. He was focusing on his work, hanging on to what he could control. Not a useless man in a crisis. Perhaps not a bad choice for Herrod’s aide, even if he wasn’t a trained soldier. Maybe, if he’d had a little more experience, he would have had a shot at waiting her out. After a moment, he gave her a slight nod. “Wait here.”
A moment later, the door opened again, and Pritchard stood aside. Herrod was seated at a small table, scanning through a long text document. “Sit down, Chief,” he said absently. “And forgive my aide. He’s very good at his job.”
Pritchard, to his credit, did not respond to this gibe, but removed himself from the room via the interior door. “Does he have people back on Earth?” she asked.
“Everybody has people back on Earth. Even the ones who didn’t grow up there.” He pushed the document aside but didn’t dismiss it. “That’s part of the point, of course. The First Sector is humanity’s center of gravity. Without it, we’re all unsteady, waiting for someone to swoop in and offer us an arm before we fall. And we’ll take any arm that shows up.”
“You mean Ellis.”
“Their concern sounds very convincing, don’t you think?” He leaned forward. “What is it you want from me, Chief?”
And wasn’t that a good question? “Why are you here, Admiral?”
“I’m sure Captain Foster has already told you.”
“He doesn’t know any more than I do.”
Herrod’s eyebrows shot up, and she thought she’d surprised him. “Well,” he said, sounding amused, “that will be a disappointment to everyone who worked to get me here.”
“So Yakutsk was just a pretext.”
“Yakutsk is a serious problem,” he said. “And no, we didn’t know they were going to lose the terraformers, but with the evidence we’ve been seeing—that you’ve been helping Galileo to compile, Chief—it didn’t surprise us. The timing was serendipitous for me, yes. But I am in fact a trained diplomat, and that part of this mission is quite real.”
This time she believed him. She knew as well as he did what would happen in the Fourth Sector if the most popular shipyard there was out of commission long-term. It wouldn’t be a paralyzing loss, but they’d be some time replacing the services. Not vital, perhaps, but important enough. “They should have sent more personnel,” she said.
“I don’t disagree, Chief. But we’re not exactly overwhelmed with qualified people just now.”
“So you didn’t know Yakutsk was coming, but you weren’t surprised by it.”
“Exactly.”
“What about the First Sector?”
He gave her a speculative look. Not even trying to hide that he’s deciding what to say to me. “It’s a lot more complicated than ‘we knew’ or ‘we didn’t know.’”
She snorted. “That sounds like bullshit.”
“One of the less entertaining things about getting older,” he said, “is that you learn that most things that sound like bullshit are actually true. It’s easy, in hindsight, to believe people were incompetent, that they should have seen it coming, that someone who knew what they were doing could have prevented all of it. But nothing in life is so linear, Chief. And nothing in life is so simple.”
That was easy enough to decipher. “You knew the First Sector was a target.”
“The First Sector has been a target since before I was born,” he said.
Something in the phrase gave her a chill. “That doesn’t make any sense. You said it yourself: Earth is the center. Even if we didn’t grow up there, we all came from there. Having it host our central government is logical.”
He was looking amused again. “You didn’t study history, did you?”
She shrugged. “Just what I needed to get through school.”
“You’re a smart person, Chief. And you surround yourself with smart people. It’s one of your defining characteristics, or so your psych profile says: slow people irritate you. You don’t necessarily like that about yourself, but it’s the truth.” He folded his hands on the table. “So let me teach you something, Chief: in aggregate, humans are slow. You can pack a colony with the brightest, sharpest, most perceptive minds ever born into our species, and without any outside influences they’ll become selfish, self-serving, and slow to change. Intelligence does not help. In some situations, it makes things worse.”
This is why I didn’t study history. “Is there a point in all that pontification?”
“The point, Chief, is that we’ve seen this coming for decades. Centuries, even. Someone always
wants to take power from those who have it. But despite all that history, we didn’t see it coming today. Nobody does.”
For the first time since she had heard the news, she felt a tickle of fear. “Is there nothing in place?” she asked him. “No contingency plans?”
“That we can execute right now?” He settled back in his chair again. “We have one. But nobody likes it much.”
“Screw that,” she said. “We’ve got to do something. This is—”
“Offensive?”
She struggled to attach the right word. “It’s wrong.”
“I agree. So what are you willing to do about it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I need your help, Shaw.”
She laughed out loud at that. “Seriously? Why would I help you?”
“I should rephrase. We need your help.”
“Shadow Ops.”
“No, Shaw. All of us. Everyone here.”
All of us? What does that mean? “What do you want me to do, set off fireworks? Perform a puppet show so people can take their minds off of the possibility of everything they know and love having been blown to bits?”
“As fascinating as that would be,” he said dryly, “that’s not what we need from you.”
“What is it you need?”
“We need you to stop Ellis Systems.”
She blinked at him, his hated face, this man who had lied to her and to her friends, had ripped her away from everything and everyone she loved. “I need,” she said, “to get back to work.” And she turned and walked out of his office, annoyed and unnerved, to look for Greg.
Chapter 24
Greg knew one person who had met Commander Ilyana, and that was Captain Andriya Vassily of the Third Sector science ship CCSS Cassia. And ever since he had seen Elena, battered and filthy in a civilian env suit in a wreck on the surface of Yakutsk, he had not wanted to talk to her at all.
He had never spoken of Elena to Andriya. He and Andriya had been lovers, off and on, for nearly a year—sporadically, given how rarely their two ships managed to be in the same vicinity—but Andriya had made it clear early on that she was not particularly interested in emotional attachments, or tales of his past. “I’ve been married four times, Foster,” she had told him, “and I’ve had enough drama.” In the beginning it had suited Greg perfectly well, but as time went on he had found himself increasingly dissatisfied. Their sexual relationship was more than adequate for him, but once the initial novelty of having someone available had worn off, he wondered what it might be like to have someone who satisfied his heart as well as his body.
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