The aliens would have picked up the line signal. Especially if they were looking for it, for no one, not even aliens, would lose an Eleven-class ship and not be searching for it. Aliens would arrive one day, following the Eleven’s trail.
Humans didn’t know how old the war was that the alien ships had fled from, or how close. All they knew was that the Confluence fleet had accumulated a lot of damage, and anything that could do damage like that would annihilate human ships. Abram’s job in the Department of Alien Affairs wasn’t just to learn how to use the fleet ships to their advantage, it was also to determine what threat—if any—the aliens were to humans.
Ean had heard other plans, too, at those interminable dinner parties the councilors loved so much. Plans for trading, plans for expansion. Plans for war.
“We want to start with the place you sent the Eleven to.”
Where, according to Abram’s theory, they would almost certainly meet aliens.
The Eleven had been under attack. A new weapon invented by Redmond, where four cloaked ships surrounded another ship they were attacking and sent a wave through that sliced the ship they were attacking into pieces. They had surrounded the Eleven, and Ean had told the Eleven to go “somewhere safe” until the field dispersed.
“Suppose I can’t get back to the same place?” Ean didn’t know where the Eleven had gone.
“We’ll work that out when we get to it. We’ve astronomers and astrophysicists working on the images the Eleven brought back, to see if they can identify it.” Abram smiled, a rare expression nowadays. “So far they haven’t, but we’ll get there.”
He blew out his breath again. “I want to send Wendell.”
Wendell would be perfect for a trip like that.
“I hear a but?” Ean wasn’t sure if it was in the lines or the way Abram said the words.
“Many of the New Alliance worlds don’t trust Wendell. Or his crew.”
Wendell and his ship were prisoners of war. Normally, in cases like this, they retained the ship but ransomed the crew back to their world, but Ean had already sung the Wendell into the Eleven’s fleet, and the bond between ship and captain meant they couldn’t send Wendell home.
They couldn’t send the crew home either. They knew too much.
They were now dual citizens of Lancia and Yaolin, but really they were loyal only to their ship and their captain. As for Wendell himself, Ean had heard him say once that given the circumstances, he was loyal to whoever paid his crew and kept his ship supplied and powered.
“He’s part of the Eleven fleet. We’d know everything they did.”
“That doesn’t matter to some people. Whether they believe it or not, they see this as an opportunity to get one of their own ships into the fleet, as a way to open up space for their world.”
Or the mistake that brought an alien war to human space.
Abram blew out his breath again. “They’d be right, too, because whoever gets there first will have an advantage.”
“So who?”
“It hasn’t been decided yet. But it will be a functioning fleet ship. If this war is over before we’ve got someone, it might even be a Gate Union ship.”
“Will the war be over?” No one else talked as if they thought it would be.
Abram shook his head. “And that’s worrying enough in itself. We’ve two groups of aliens fighting each other, maybe more. I’d rather humans were all allied before we come up against them. Instead, if the Redmond–Gate Union split happens—as everyone expects it to—we’ll be three fragmented groups. Not a good position to be in.”
“Redmond is only six worlds. How dangerous are they?”
“Line factories,” Abram reminded him.
Other worlds had factories that grew individual lines, like mass-producing line five for comms use, but now that the factories on Shaolin and Chamberley were gone, only Redmond could produce the full set of lines required to power a ship or a station. They couldn’t afford to destroy Redmond.
Not even if the Worlds of the Lesser Gods gave them a military base close by.
Ean turned his attention back to the thing he could control the most. Another ship for the Eleven fleet.
“What about a Balian ship?” Admiral Katida supported Lancia—although she claimed she didn’t always. Ean suspected it was less Lancia she supported than Michelle and Abram. He was fine with that. It was his definition of supporting Lancia as well.
“Unlikely. We’re more likely to get someone who opposes Lancia. It won’t be Nova Tahiti, for they have a captain on the Eleven. Maybe Yaolin, if they can talk hard enough.”
Admiral Orsaya’s passion was lines and linesmen. At least she’d want to know more about the ships and their lines than she would about finding new planets to explore. Or maybe not. Even Abram would be thinking about exploration for Lancia.
“Whoever we get,” Abram said, “I want them to join in line training although most of them won’t be linesmen.”
Ean nodded.
“Speaking of line training. The events of the last two days have had most worlds scrambling to get people for us. They don’t want to be left without trained linesmen.”
When he said “events,” Ean thought he meant the battle, and the Eleven, but there was a strong sound of Michelle underneath Abram’s words.
The Confluence would be happy. “Good. We need crews for the ships. All of them. And captains.”
“This batch of trainees will be bigger than the first group,” Abram said. “We’ll house them on the Gruen initially. Once it gets too many, we’ll put them on Confluence Station, but that will take some organizing.”
How many could they train at one time? A group session, Ean supposed, plus smaller groups. At least he had Hernandez and Fergus, and maybe Rossi, to help. And some of the earlier trainees.
Abram said, “We are also training paramedics from the different worlds to deal with line-related problems. That’s going to be fun. We’ll send them with the line trainees, but you won’t have to train them. The paramedics who are already trained will do that.”
“Do we have the room?”
“Captain Gruen has already complained about her cargo holds being kept empty for line training, rather than being put to use for storage now she has a full ship. We’ve promised her supplies every three days.”
Ean grinned. Gruen would milk that for everything she had.
“As for the rest. We’ll take it as it comes.”
ELEVEN
DOMINIQUE RADKO
BACK AT THEIR temporary home, Radko considered what they knew.
Callista OneLane’s premises had been protected by LoneField Security. When OneLane had pressed the emergency button, the people who responded should have been LoneField employees, not Redmond Fleet soldiers. Not only that, if you were paid to protect someone’s premises, surely you would know who they were, and not shoot them in the head the moment you entered a room.
OneLane had been Redmond’s first target. Protecting the report, Radko thought. In case OneLane had read it? What was in that report?
Stellan Vilhjalmsson had the report now, but Redmond Fleet headquarters wouldn’t know that because OneLane didn’t have a camera in her office. Unfortunately, the cameras Redmond would see showed Radko introducing herself as Tiana Chen and saying she had come to buy something.
EightFields might or might not go to the authorities. If the story he’d told was true, he wouldn’t, but that didn’t stop the military putting the same names together that Radko and her team had. They’d get to him in the end. Radko wanted to be off world by the time they did. But Aeolus wasn’t even a Redmond world. Why have a military operation off world?
“Do you think EightFields is sending us into a trap?”
“Why would he?” Chaudry asked.
“Don’t trust anyone, Chaudry.” But if EightFields had b
een telling the truth, they could verify it easily enough. “Van Heel, find out about the lockdown. It was supposed to be on the news. Han, see if you can find the Factor’s guest list.” On Lancia, it was easy to find out with whom Emperor Yu had dined. Most rulers had lists, and Han being who he was would know where to look. “Let me know if EightFields dined with him around the time or before the lockdown.”
“What do I do?” Chaudry asked.
“Make us look as different as we can without drawing attention to us.” They’d already changed once, but if EightFields did go to the authorities, he would describe them and what they were wearing. And he had names.
Chaudry seemed to have a talent for disguise. Anything would help, no matter what, even if Chaudry himself stood out. EightFields had known him, even without a layer of fake regenerated skin.
“We need to look different,” Radko said. “Shower, change. Let Chaudry make you up.”
She dressed in the pants Chaudry had picked out for her, and a shirt she thought might have been Han’s, then mulled over escape plans as she let him slick her hair back and use something from the cupboard to add a few dark streaks.
“Here’s the lockdown,” van Heel said. “Two weeks ago, for four days. Lots of speculation about who the Factor’s mysterious visitor was, and the reason for the lockdown. All nonurgent staff were sent home. Staff who stayed said the visitor was masked.”
“And I’ve got EightFields,” Han said, not long after.
Radko looked up once to see Han across from her, almost a stranger with his hair flattened on top and his eyebrows clumping out. The droop to one side of his face made him look as if he’d had a stroke. She looked closer at the scab on the side of his mouth. It looked real and made her want to look away.
“I don’t want to know,” Han said. “Van Heel stared at me before, too.” He looked back to his screen. “EightFields is a regular guest at the palace. He dined there a month prior to that, and three times in ten days before the lockdown.”
Van Heel was not so much unrecognizable as noticeably older. Chaudry had done something to her face to make her look ten years older than she was. Her skin was a shade darker, and her nose and cheeks were red and blotchy with the broken veins of an alcoholic.
“Nicely done, Chaudry,” Radko said. She didn’t want to know what she herself looked like.
For his own disguise, Chaudry had paired his uniform pants with a loose shirt and casual shoes, and spiked his hair with gel, arranged so that it looked as if he’d lost a few clumps of hair. If he hadn’t been such an obvious size, even Radko would have found it hard to recognize him.
“You’re very good at this, Chaudry.”
Chaudry frowned down at his trousers. “It feels wrong. Wearing part uniform.”
“It can get you court-martialed,” Han said.
“Han,” Radko chided.
“Seriously, I pulled someone in for that the other day.” Then Han grinned. “I won’t tell. Your indiscretion is safe with me.”
Chaudry tugged nervously at his trousers. “Maybe I should—”
“Wear them,” Radko said. “It’s the best disguise we’ve got. If you’re worried about repercussions, then I order you to wear them. Van Heel, Han, witness that please.”
“Duly witnessed.” Van Heel glared at Han. “Leave him be.”
They were starting to bond as a team, at least.
“Suggestions as to how we can get off this world,” Radko said.
“Come in like we did to Bane,” Han suggested. “Find ourselves a cargo port, and a shuttle that will collect us from there.”
That had been organized by Vega, who had a whole fleet of resources behind her.
It wasn’t only getting off world. They had to get on to a ship afterward. “We need that guy who delivers the shellfish,” Radko said.
Maybe they could.
Radko looked at Han. He had implied that Gunter Wong was a family friend. Using contacts and calling in favors was a very Lancian way to work. “How well do you know Gunter Wong, Han?”
“Gunter?”
“Gippian shellfish.”
“I know what he does, it’s just unexpected you asking.” Han considered it. “He’s more a friend of my father’s than he is mine. They’re neighbors. They see each other often.”
“What would he do if you asked him for a favor?”
“What sort of favor?”
“Send two orders of shellfish posthaste. One here to Redmond, the second to the Worlds of the Lesser Gods. We’d pay him, of course,” as Han opened his mouth. They had a budget. “He just needs to prioritize it. And provide a ship that can carry four passengers.”
“It’s something my father would ask, not me.”
“We’ll try Wong first. If unsuccessful, we’ll ask Renaud to do it.”
“Keep my father out of this.” Han’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know his name anyway?”
“She’s your team leader,” van Heel said. “She knows more about you than your family does.”
Did Radko imagine the whiteness around Han’s mouth? She was sure there were things she guessed about Han that his parents didn’t know. Like the fact that he wasn’t Yves Han at all.
“My family knows yours,” Radko said. “If we have to, I’ll talk to Renaud, but it’s best if we do it together.” She’d prefer he did it alone, for Renaud was close to the Emperor. He wouldn’t normally talk about Radko, but Michelle’s wedding would be the main topic of conversation around Baoshan Palace. Someone might mention other weddings, and Renaud might casually drop into the conversation that he’d spoken to Sattur Dow’s betrothed recently.
And if she was talking to Renaud, there was the other matter he might mention, so it was best to prepare Han for that. “You and I go way back, Han. One summer I smashed your face in. Did a lot of damage. I appreciate your not mentioning it, but Renaud might find it surprising we get along.”
Han went still.
“You were twelve.” She’d been nine. If this had been the Han she’d taken on, she wouldn’t have beaten him.
“I’ll get those numbers for you.” Han stood up and went into the other room.
Van Heel laughed. “He doesn’t like your remembering that, I take it.”
“No. It was humiliating. I’m sure he didn’t need to be reminded of it.” Radko stood up. “I’d best make amends.” She went inside, using the laughter of van Heel to hide the fact that she was stepping quietly now.
She came up silently behind Han, who was tapping something into his comms.
The comms in his hand wasn’t the brand-new, generic model they’d all been issued, either. It was the high-end deluxe model she’d told him to put away at the start of the mission.
“Turn it off, Han. Before you compromise our location by sending an unnecessary comms while we’re on a covert op, think about what you are doing.”
He yelped.
“What were you planning? A message to your parents to find out information you should already know?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I told you because it’s an infamous incident in both our childhoods. Yves would have remembered it. I was nine, he was twelve. I thrashed him.”
“You know, somehow I believe that.”
Radko smiled. “You’d better believe it. Yves was a really unpleasant boy.”
“And I’m an unpleasant man?”
“Yves might have been, but you’re not Yves, are you.” She watched his eyes but kept part of her gaze on his hands, to see if he’d go for his blaster. She nodded at the comms. “Doesn’t your family think it strange, your calling them up to ask about yourself?”
His gaze was watchful. “I was in an accident. I lost a lot of memory of my past life. My memory’s still not good.”
“How long ago?” Although she already kne
w.
She thought he wasn’t going to answer.
“Twelve and a half years.”
Just after he’d completed training at House of Sandhurst.
If he’d been going to shoot her, the danger was past. Radko sat down across from him. “Your accent slips sometimes when you’re stressed.” Like now. His vowels broadened the way Ean’s did, when Ean was tired. He’d be tired right now—if he was awake—for it was 02:00 hours Haladean sector time. “If I had to guess, I’d say you’re from the slums.”
“I didn’t kill Yves if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I wouldn’t blame you if you had. He was a bastard when he was a child. I imagine he grew into something worse.”
Han made a wry moue. “How did you know?”
“You’re right-handed.” Not that Radko remembered Yves as left-handed, but he had been a linesman. “What happened to Yves?”
“I used to be Yves’s stand-in.” Han stared down at his comms, which was vibrating with an incoming message. He made another face, and held it up so Radko could see the name of the caller. Renaud Han.
Renaud could wait.
“Back when Yves was six or seven, someone threatened to kill him, so they found a double for public appearances. Me.”
She nodded.
“We could have been twins. His family taught me how to speak and behave like him. I loved his parents better than my own. They would meet me whenever they came to Baoshan, and they invited me to dinner a lot. All my parents thought about was the credits I could make them.”
“So what happened?”
“Yves liked to hurt people.” It looked as if it took an effort to say.
Radko nodded.
“He got worse as he got older. The whole family was scared of him. My parents, my sister.” Han rubbed his eyes. “Sorry, Yves’s parents, his sister. Yet when he wasn’t being a monster, he was charming.”
A lot of monsters were. “How did he die?” Han wouldn’t be running around pretending to be Yves if Yves were still alive.
“He hurt a young girl. Her mother tried to get him committed, but he was a Han.”
Confluence Page 16