by Vox Day
“You seem pretty confident of that.”
“Space is safer. And, since we're talking about a Navy ship rather than a commercial one, we can safely assume that the officers and crew weren't complete idiots. A safe orbit is standard protocol.”
“Is that why you're bypassing the fourth planet in favor of the third one? Protocol?”
“Same reason as we chose Gelhart in the first place. Third planet from the sun, just like Terra. Our subspace sweeper is pinging its orbit now, just in case the ship has put out a beacon. We're assuming it's gone dark otherwise, since no other distress signals have been reported.”
“Could anyone on the ship detect our approach?”
“That depends on what sort of ship it is, assuming we're in the right system,” answered Galton. He eyed her curiously. “But we don't know that, we don't even know if it survived whatever emergency it encountered prior to the distress call. For all we know, it may have exited transit too close to a sun.”
York said drily, “I am absolutely confident that the ship survived.”
“Are you expecting survivors?”
“Definitely.”
“I don't see how you could possibly know that.” Galton peered at York, then shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose there are a lot of things you aren't telling us.”
“There are. And there are even more things I don't know,” she admitted, “but I expect we will be enlightened soon enough. Do most warship landers have an interplanetary capability?”
“Anything from a destroyer on up would have at least one boat with the engines and supplies required. It would require skillful navigation.”
“But it is possible.”
The navigator nodded. “It is possible.”
She was wondering about how the planet and the landing capacity might figure into the various scenarios she'd imagined when Les Osborn approached them. He nodded to the navigator.
“The captain would like to see Miss York in his cabin, sir.”
“In a moment,” York told the big deckhand. “I'm getting my astronomy lesson.”
“Yes, ma'am,” Osborn replied, with an uneasy glance at the navigator.
“You haven't quite got the Navy spirit, Miss York,” Galton remarked as the deckhand retreated. “It's customary to jump when the captain beckons.”
York tried to look properly chastened. “I hope he's not in the habit of resorting to the lash.”
The navigator laughed. “Hope or fear? You'd best be on your way now.”
Captain Hull was hunched over a holo when she entered the outer chamber. The pale blue light he preferred gave his skin a ghostly hue. “Sit down, Agent York.”
“Thank you, Captain.” York seated herself in the chair facing him and waited for Hull to speak.
Hull ran his hand through the image and it disappeared. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “The doctor and Lieutenant Tregaski have been looking into the attack, and they've made some quiet inquiries, but they're not making much headway.”
“On the gassing of my cabin?”
Hull inclined his head. “We officers tend to operate under the illusion that the deck is sacrosanct, but it's amazing how many enlisted personnel have access over the course of the day. Between cleaning, maintenance, mess attendants, cooks, the ship's patrol, once it's all added up, it amounts to nearly one-third of the crew.”
“I imagine you're accustomed to ignoring them,” she suggested. “They become part of the scenery over time.”
“That may be.” Hull paused before continuing. “I suppose it will interest you to know that among the crew members with confirmed access to the deck were two of the Dai Zhani crew members.”
“Which ones?”
“Char Wong, an engine technician, and Lu Singkai, maintenance. They came up to play Krabacci with Wallu, our mess attendant. I don't have any reason to suspect either of them concerning the attempt on your life, but events do seem to be transpiring as you predicted. So, I thought you should know.”
“Have they been up before?” asked York. “Or was their presence here unusual?”
“Wallu says they usually play once or twice per week. Apparently Singkai is quite good.”
“So I've heard. Did they arrive and leave together?”
“They didn't ask. There haven't been any interrogations since I didn't want to cause too much of a disturbance,” replied Hull. “If you think it's important, I can have Tregaski ask Wallu in confidence.”
“It's probably better that you didn't make an issue of it,” York suggested. “I'm confident we're dealing with amateurs here. Even if the attack had been successful, all it would have achieved was to confirm their presence and put you on your guard.”
“It did seem to smack of desperation. They'll find it harder to get at you now that we have been alerted.” Hull shifted back in his seat and folded his hands. “But that's not why I sent for you. When we exited transit, I received a message from Mosva. It was sent on behalf of the AID section chief. Do you recall that cyborg agent that made contact with House Dai Zhan?”
“Flare?” She sat up straighter. “Yes, of course.”
“Apparently she did more than make contact. She killed the agent, then disappeared. A bomb.”
“You're kidding!” York sat back in her chair, her eyes wide. “Not that she doesn't have blood on her hands, but she's wasted in basic wet work. Did the meet go bad?”
“The message didn't say. However, I was instructed to inform you that the working theory is that the cyborgs have effected some sort of alliance with Prince Li-Hu. The murdered agent was a double.”
“One of ours?”
“You know more about this sort of thing that I do.”
“Whose working theory?” asked York.
“The High Admiral, and, I presume, your Director Karsh. I understand the AID is working closely with the Navy on this one.”
York suppressed a smile, thinking that Hull almost certainly had the situation exactly backward. If anything, the admiral was waiting like a beggar on Karsh's doorstep, hoping for a few crumbs of information.
“Are these intelligence situations usually this complicated?” Hull asked her. It was clear that he found them not only distasteful, but confusing.
“Things are seldom straightforward, but this is more convoluted than anything I've ever experienced. But then, you understand, Captain, the stakes are almost beyond imagining!”
The captain nodded. He looked tired. The stress of knowing there was a traitor on his ship was obviously telling on him. Her heart went out to him. Here was a courageous man who was trained to risk his life by meeting an enemy face-to-face, a man ill-equipped to deal with disloyalty and secret knives in the night.
“Well, at least that Flare isn't our problem. And just in case you're wrong about her limits, I've banned all direct-feed entertainment devices and confiscated them from the crew. I'll be damned if I'll take any chances of her sabotaging this ship!”
York tried to keep a straight face. “With all due respect, Captain, I think we should be more concerned about the operatives known to be on board than a woman several subsectors away.”
“I haven't forgotten about them. Or about the operatives you're saying will be among the survivors. But they're human. This Flare isn't. How can you catch such a woman?”
She shrugged. “You probably couldn't on a well-populated planet, such as Terra or Kalar. Too many people, too many skulljacks.”
“So if she ever got aboard a ship travelling towards such a world–”
“You'd never catch her,” York asserted. “So, it's just as well she isn't on Rigel. Otherwise, the information would be as good as in Dr. G's hands.”
“How could she get it back to Kurzweil if the Dai Zhani are finding it hard to reach Zhuhai?” Hull asked bluntly.
“I imagine the good doctor has any number of agents scattered around. Especially on Terra.”
“Cyborgs on Terra? That's hard to believe.”
; “Nevertheless, it's true.” York smiled. “The Directorate penetrates the Singularitan worlds. Do you imagine Dr. G is any less adroit?”
“I couldn't say,” Hull answered stiffly.
“He isn't. Take it from me.”
“You forget, we keep those worlds sealed off, Miss York. A gnat couldn't slip through.”
“Is Myranda Flare smaller than a gnat?”
Hull, vexed, flushed red. “All right, she got through, though I don't know how.”
“You can't possibly stop them all, Captain. The Draco and the other blockading ships serve to keep traffic to a minimum. But there is an amount of surreptitious traffic. I know, that's how we get in and out ourselves. It's not as if we can simply have an Ascendancy ship drop us off at the spaceport.”
“I suppose you're right. Nevertheless, I'm entirely confident that the admiral is taking all possible precautions, York. In fact, it's beginning to look very much as if we won't be in on the kill after all, which would be a pity.”
“Why not?” York asked sharply.
“There is a Shiva-class cruiser already in transit here.” Hull told her. “ATSV Cetus. By a fortunate coincidence, it was undergoing repairs on one of the naval bases in a nearby subsector. The repairs weren't vital, so the Admiralty ordered her here.”
“It will arrive here? When?”
Hull nodded. “In thirty-five hours. But she's scheduled to come out of hypertime closer to the third planet than we did.”
“Two ships are better than one, I suppose.”
“No, I wouldn't be at all surprised if we were ordered back to Xigaze.”
“Before Rigel is even found?” said York, incredulous. “I can't believe that!”
“There are reasons, Miss York.”
“Such as?”
“The Admiralty's policy is to restrict all information concerning the Shiva technology to certain qualified captains. I don't happen to be one of them. And I don't mind saying, Agent York, I regard it as a wise policy. From an operational point of view, I realize Cetus is more than adequate for any emergency that might arise.”
“Was the Rigel?” York asked softly.
Hull flushed. “I will point out that if it turns out that Rigel was sabotaged, it will be the first case in over three centuries, and I can assure you that it won't happen again. We are aware of the danger now.”
York leaned back, trying to restrain her fury. “How can you say that, in view of what happened on your own ship? You have an attempted murderer aboard, and you don't know who he is, or what he might do, or how he might be linked up to what happened aboard the Rigel. I'm telling you, Captain, it will be a terrible mistake if I am not there to interrogate the survivors!”
“This is a Naval matter, Agent York!” Hull snapped angrily.
“No, because you're dealing with enemy intelligence operatives, and that means counterintelligence! That means it is the Directorate's responsibility.”
Hull raised both his hands. “I'm not denying your expertise would be useful, but let me make it very clear. I will follow whatever orders I am given, as is my duty.”
She thought quickly. This was a disaster! “I must be there, Captain Hull. Can you arrange for me to transfer to the other ship?”
“To Cetus?” He was quiet for a moment. “I can request it once they come out of transit. I can even advise it.”
“Please do so,” she said urgently. “It is vital!”
He raised a finger. “I will, but please recall that I can only advise. Admiral Garstig captains Cetus and he outranks me. If he won't have you, there will be nothing I can do about it.”
She nodded quickly. “I understand. Thank you, Captain. But please, please, be persuasive! And also, can you send a message to the Admiralty asking them to talk to Director Karsh about the situation and discuss the possibility of me transferring ship? If they would see fit to give the appropriate orders to Admiral Garstig, that would be satisfactory.”
Agent York, August Karsh hasn't the slightest say where naval operations are concerned. He might advise, yes, but not give orders.”
“We're dealing with the sunbuster here, Captain. This is about the survival of the Terran empire! And this isn't a space battle, it's an intelligence operation. Those are the facts, and you should pray to whatever God you believe in that the Director can make the Admiralty see sense!”
“I'll do what I can,” Hull said wearily. “You never stop, do you, Agent York.”
“I'll stop when I'm dead.”
Dismissed by the captain, York passed through the crew's quarters en route to the ship's hospital, in search of Dr. Benbow. She saw Les Osborn sitting alone at one of the mess tables, immersed in a game. She paused to look at the big deckhand as a plan formed in her mind. Osborn was tough, rugged, the very kind of a man she might need if she remained on the ship. As if sensing her eyes on him, Osborn glanced up and abruptly sat straighter.
“Are you winning?” she asked.
“Just waiting to go on watch, Miss York.” Osborn switched off his device and looked at her warily. The other men in the mess eyed him enviously, but she ignored them.
“May I sit down?” She smiled and sat opposite him when he nodded.
The blue eyes searched York's face candidly. “Miss, what are you? Why did they, you know….”
“Try to kill me?”
“Well, yeah.”
“I imagine there are a few rumors flying around.”
“A few,” he admitted cautiously.
“Such as?”
“Lieutenant was saying you are a scientist with the Bureau of Colonial Planets,” replied Osborn. He sounded dubious.
“But you don't think so,” she observed. “Anything else?”
“Some was saying you're a Master at Arms.”
“What's that?”
“It's what's called the military cops in the other services.”
“Oh, I see.” She smiled and shook her head. “I'm not in the Navy.”
Osborn added reluctantly, “There's also talk that you're with the AID.”
“That happens to be correct, Osborn. I am with the Directorate. The captain knows. But it's not something that I'd like you to confirm for anyone.”
“The Directorate?” Osborn asked wonderingly. “So, you're like a spy?”
“Counterintelligence would be a more accurate description. A spy hunter.”
“A spy hunter? That's cool. Um, why are you telling me this?”
“Because I might need your help. And after what happened outside my cabin, I know you're the kind of man I need.”
Osborn rocked back from the table, his eyes full of surprise and awe. “Does the captain know?”
“He knows. Want him to vouch for me?”
“I can just see me asking!” Osborn snorted. “I guess you're all right. When you first came aboard you were under guard, but now we're guarding you.”
“I appreciate that. I find it's much easier to do my job when I'm alive.”
“The thing is, that attack, the gas bomb thing, it would have to be someone in the crew. That's hard to believe.”
“I'm sure it is.”
He looked troubled. “What do you want me to do?”
“Help me catch whoever did it.”
“But you don't know who he is!” exclaimed Osborn. “And I wouldn't know how to go about something like that.”
“It's not that hard.” She smiled. “He'll try again. And when he does, we'll be ready.”
“You think he's going to try again?” asked Osborn incredulously. “Even though you're expecting it?”
“I hope so,” she said seriously. “The bigger danger would be if he went after the ship. But we can prevent it. I have an idea that our would-be killer's not that smart. He exposed himself sooner than he needed to.”
“All right.” Osborn's expression hardened. “How are we going to get ready?”
“It's nothing you have to do, it's something you have to be. When the crisis comes, you'll have
to act fast and you may be on your own. My life, and possibly the fate of the ship will be at stake, and there won't be any time to ask questions or wait for clarification. Think you can manage that?”
“How will I know it's the time to act?”
“How did you know something was wrong when you caught me outside my cabin?”
“Yeah, all right.” He actually blushed at the recollection. “I get it. I can do it. If something outside the normal routine takes place, that's probably the sign I'm waiting for, right?”
“That's just it,” she confirmed. “Being an operative is all about patience, then striking without hesitation. And you're an operative now.”
“Me, an agent?” he said disbelievingly.
“For the duration of this trip, I'm afraid.”
“I-I'll do my best, Miss York,” Osborn stammered.
“I know you will,” she told him. “I have the utmost confidence in you.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Escalated contests occur when the smaller of the two contestants mistakenly estimates that it is the larger. Despite this difficulty, it turns out that the Assessor strategy, 'estimate if estimate opponent is smaller, display if estimate opponent is larger', is stable for a wide range of strategies.
—from “Evolution and the Theory of Games” by John Maynard Smith
DR. BENBOW was coming from the inside room, balancing his reader on top of a cup, as York entered the medical suite. “Just in time,” he greeted her. “Sit down, and I'll bring you something. Coffee?”
“Strong and black,” she said. “I could use it.”
When he had retrieved one for her from the machine, the doctor sat down and asked, “What's going on? Not another attempted murder, I hope.”
“No, just a difficult session with your captain.” York sighed and ran her hands through her hair. “There appear to be complications.”
“Oh?” Benbow raised his eyebrows.
“I may be leaving the ship soon.”
“I can't imagine you've irritated the skipper so badly that he intends to leave you marooned on a lifeless planet in an uninhabited system.” He winked. “You have a few fans among the crew yet.”