The Others Page 10

  “Yes,” Chronos said reluctantly. “But it would be extremely helpful to have solid operational data before we undertake a refit of the entire fleet. Even at such a…cost.”

  “You’re right, it would. If we had the time. Which we don’t.”

  Chronos was silent again. Akella was right, and he knew it. But he also knew they would be betting the survival of the Hegemony on a wild guess that a single cruiser’s commander had developed a way to target the enemy ships. Without operational testing, without more data…the whole thing was insane.

  But as Chronos stood there, he knew it was their only choice, and Akella obviously did, too.

  Chapter Twelve

  Grand Palais Hotel

  Troyus City

  Megara, Olyus III

  Year 322 AC

  “You can’t be serious.” Andi stood along the wall of the plush hotel suite, staring at Barron with an expression that mixed anger and fear, with just a touch of horror thrown in. “I knew this ‘admiral’s wife’ thing was going to be difficult, but we’ve been married for what, six weeks? And, you want to take off for Hegemony space…and you don’t want me to come?”

  Barron looked across the room. The exceedingly luxurious hotel was another structure that had been hastily rebuilt, probably as much to provide a place for Senators to host their assignations and secret meetings as for the stated purpose of accommodating foreign dignitaries. Whatever the rationale, it made Barron uncomfortable, but there wasn’t much choice in terms of lodgings. The Barrons had long maintained a sizable manner house in Troyus City, but that stately old building was now little more than shattered stone and twisted metal, and it hadn’t even occurred to him to do something about that. He’d rebuild it, he was sure of that, but he would wait until the millions rendered homeless by the war had rooves over their heads.

  “Andi, I don’t want to go. Be reasonable. You can’t play the role of some naïve innocent. You understand strategy and tactics—and the dangers we face—pretty damned well, probably better than I do sometimes. You know the Hegemony didn’t surrender Colossus and end the war for no reason. Either they’re up to something we don’t know about…or there is one hell of a threat out there, one that is a total mystery to us. Either way, don’t you think we have to know?”

  “Of course we have to know. But why you? Why does it always have to be you?”

  “I’d try to explain that to you, but you already know. Why did you lead Pegasus into every dangerous corner of the Badlands? Why did you go after Ricard Lille? How about your trip to Hegemony-occupied Dannith? Neither one of us shies away from our duties, Andi. You know that.”

  “But if the Hegemony is planning something, you’ll be putting yourself at their mercy.”

  “Not exactly. I’ll be taking a sizable task force with me.”

  “Into the heart of the Hegemony? And what good will that do if they turn on you? A few extra spacers to die with you?” There was something in Andi’s tone, something different. Barron had argued with her before, legendary rows that seemed inevitable when two people of nearly infinite stubbornness were thrust together. But there was something there he hadn’t heard before, something…new.

  “Andi…yes, it’s possible the Hegemony’s surrender of Colossus was some kind of trap, but you know that’s not very likely. They could have beaten us in a straight out fight if they’d continued, with or without Colossus.” Barron hesitated. “There’s some kind of threat out there, I’m almost certain.”

  “The Hegemony isn’t exactly our ally. Maybe their enemy is a potential friend.”

  “That’s certainly possible, but how can we know if we don’t go out there and investigate?”

  “So, somebody has to go. I’ll repeat my question. Why you?”

  “Who else? Who can I send out there? Who can handle whatever happens, negotiate with the Hegemony—or their enemy—and make decisions on the spot? Who has that kind of authority?”

  “No one…not you, either. At least, I’d bet the Senate doesn’t think you do.”

  “That may be true, but I’m the closest we’ve got, and you know that. I can get away with more than anyone else.”

  “You mean you can mutiny if it serves your purpose…and have a decent chance of squirming out of trouble. And if that doesn’t work, I can just come visit you in the stockade.”

  Barron didn’t respond right away. There was something about the way Andi was arguing that was different from her normal controlled obstinance. And, she’s the last one who should be lecturing anyone about following the rules…

  “I’m sorry, Tyler…” Her voice softened, and she moved toward him, sliding her arms under his. “We’ve just had so many separations, so much time apart.”

  Barron had been on the verge of getting angry, of lashing back at her with all the times she’d insisted on doing something crazy, leaving him behind to worry. But her touch, and the soft sobbing he could hear as she pressed her face into his shoulder, drained his anger away. He was awash in guilt and regret, and he’d have declared his intention to remain on Megara with her then and there…if so much of his reason for going hadn’t revolved around the fear of some deadly new enemy coming to the Rim and killing millions.

  Killing Andi…

  He didn’t say anything, he just put his arms around her and pulled her even closer. He didn’t want to leave her anymore than she wanted him to go. But he didn’t have any choice. He had to defend the Confederation.

  He had to defend Andi.

  * * *

  “I could go coreward, you know, and you could stay here and deal with the defense of the Confederation.” Clint Winters stood no more than a meter from Barron, staring at his comrade with cold eyes.

  “Thank you, Clint, I appreciate that, but no. I’ve got Senatorial authorization to investigate, and to treat with the Hegemony authorities, and my rank as navy commander gives me more latitude to…make spot decisions.”

  “Yeah, I can exceed my orders as well as you can. I think you know that.”

  Barron was in no mood for laughter, but that didn’t stop a small chuckle from forcing its way out. “Yes, I do know that, only too well. But I think it’s got to be me, for a number of reasons. I don’t want to go, but I feel I have to, and that means you have to keep things under control here…and be ready for whatever happens if I don’t…” His voice slipped to silence. He didn’t need to finish. He knew Winters understood.

  “I’ll watch the home fires, Ty.” Winters still looked like he was on the verge of resuming his argument, but he remained silent.

  “I know you will.”

  “And, make sure Colossus is as well-protected as possible until we’re able to move her deeper into Confederation space. I authorized Anya Fritz to accelerate her efforts to get the thing mobile, which is a risk…but in Anya’s hands, one I thought worth taking.”

  “I have to agree. If it was anyone else, I might think differently, but your old engineer from Dauntless is nothing short of a wizard in the guts of a ship.”

  “That she is.” A pause, then: “There’s one other thing, Clint. I recorded a communique, and I’d like you to get it to Vian Tulus on Palatia…without going through official channels.” The Alliance’s Imperator had returned to his homeworld just after the wedding, but Barron wanted his blood brother fully apprised. If some unknown enemy did threaten the Rim, he had no doubt Tulus would lead his forces into the fight without hesitation. But launching massive fleets for war took time and preparation, and Barron was going to see Tulus got just those very things.

  “You mean without the Senate knowing about it?”

  “You know that’s what I mean, old friend.” Barron looked around, more an involuntary impulse than any real concern that he and Winters weren’t alone. He wasn’t looking to cause any trouble with the reconstituted Senate, but he didn’t intend to risk them sending some watered-down communique to Tulus either. The Imperator would take Barron’s words seriously, and that meant he’d have his forces r
eady if they were needed.

  And Barron’s gut told him they would be needed.

  “Consider it done. I’ll get a thrill from slipping one by those chattering fools.” Winters had, if possible, even less respect for politicians than Barron did.

  “Thank you. And keep a close eye out. With a chunk of the fleet coming with me, a task force defending Colossus, and a ton of ships assisting the rebuilding efforts on and in orbit around Megara and Ulion, your free forces will be a little sparse. If anything unexpected happens, get word to Tulus. My communique asks him to take anything from you as if from my mouth.”

  “I’ll keep watch, Ty. And I’ll ask Tulus for help if I need it.”

  Barron was silent for a moment, a grim look coming over his face. “I do have one more favor to ask, Clint. A personal one.” A brief silence. “If something…happens…to me…will you look after Andi?”

  Winters nodded gently. “Of course, Ty…though I’m not sure I know anybody more capable of taking care of herself than Andi.”

  Barron sighed softly. He hadn’t been able to get Andi off his mind. He’d been prepared for a massive fight, a no holds barred battle to keep her on Megara, to prevent her from coming with him. He wanted her safe, and he’d been determined to hold his ground this time. But after the first few moments of argument, she hadn’t even suggested coming. Of all the eventualities that had rattled around in his head, that one had never occurred to him.

  And it had unnerved him.

  “Yes, that’s true, but there’s something different this time. She tried to get me to stay, but she didn’t…well, it was just different. It would really put my mind at ease if I knew you were keeping an eye on her.”

  “Say no more. I’d do whatever I could for you, Ty, and Andi’s a friend, too. Whatever you run into out there, whatever scrapes you get into, you don’t have to worry about her.

  Barron nodded appreciatively. It helped a lot to know Winters would be there, and he realized Andi could take care of herself. He didn’t have to worry about her.

  But he was worried, so much that if anything less than the safety of the Rim was at stake, he wouldn’t have gone.

  * * *

  Andi stared out, gazing through the clear wall, her eyes moving in half a minute from moist to an outpouring of tears streaming down her face. She was worried about Barron, certainly, and sad about what promised to be a lengthy separation. They’d been torn apart so many times, and with the end of the war and their marriage, she’d finally let herself believe they’d have some time together.

  But there was more to it than that, a concern greater than separation. It was something she’d wrestled with telling him, and almost had. But in the end, she’d decided to keep it secret. She didn’t want him distracted, worried about her…especially not when he might very well be going into a life and death situation.

  She stood in the observation area , looking out through the gray fog and light rain toward the shuttle. The doors had closed, almost indistinguishable from the gleaming white hull. She’d only caught a passing glimpse of him, and he hadn’t even been aware she was there.

  She and Tyler had already said their goodbyes—again—at the hotel, but she’d decided to come to the spaceport and watch until his shuttle launched. The temporary facility was nothing compared to the vast complex destroyed during the fighting, and without internal launch hangers, Barron and his staff had been forced to walk across the wet tarmac to enter the shuttle. She’d watched as he stepped up the small ladder, and climbed inside. She struggled to remain positive and optimistic, but her cold view of things compelled her to think what she’d tried so hard not to.

  Is that the last time I will see him?

  She remained where she was, unable to see Barron anymore, but willing to accept a view of the ship that carried him as an alternative to nothing. Her thoughts drifted back, across space and time, to the day she’d met then-Captain Tyler Barron. She remembered her first impression as though it had been yesterday. It had been far from love at first sight. In fact, he’d irritated the hell out of her. Pegasus and its tiny crew hadn’t had any real chance to gain control over the planetkiller and get it back to Confederation space, and if Dauntless hadn’t intervened, she and all her people would almost certainly have been killed by the Sector Nine operatives also trying to seize the giant artifact. But at the time, those plainly obvious facts hadn’t prevented her from blaming Dauntless’s captain for keeping her from her prize…and for his ultimately destruction of the greatest treasure she had ever seen.

  That hadn’t been her only impression, of course. As much as he drove her crazy, she couldn’t lie to herself, not well enough to be convincing, at least. She had been attracted to him from the start, and as much as she’d despised naval officers and uniforms in those days, she had to admit, he’d looked good in his.

  She watched as a cloud of steam enveloped the shuttle, the small craft’s engines igniting and vaporizing the water glistening on the hull and pooling all around. A few seconds later, she could see the blast, the flames pouring out from the thrusters as the shuttle moved, slowly at first, and then more rapidly, into the sky.

  She watched the ship ascend, for as long as she could see it in the gray, hazy morning, and then, almost in an instant, it was gone.

  Tyler was gone.

  She stayed where she was for another moment, and then she heard a voice, her own, the words coming out almost involuntarily.

  She spoke softly, and what she said was meant only for herself. “You have to come back, Tyler, my love…you have to.” She sniffled, a failed attempt to clear away her tears. “I need you, I have always needed you. We need you.” She stared out at the blackened, empty stretch of the launch pad, still partially obscured by billowing clouds of white steam, the spot that had held Barron’s shuttle until a moment before.

  “You have to come back because I’m pregnant…”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Hall of the People

  Liberte City

  Planet Montmirail, Ghassara IV

  Union Year 225 (321 AC)

  “I want her found immediately! Is that understood?” Gaston Villieneuve slammed his hand down hard on his desk, the pain resulting from the overly zealous move only adding to his fury. “Do you know what I spend, what the Union government spends? On Sector Nine, on police, on Foudre Rouge? On surveillance and computational assets? And none of you have been able to find one woman, a traitor, on the run, who has to be hiding in some rathole somewhere. Find her…or I’m going to start suspecting that some of you were in on the whole coup attempt.” The malevolence, the dark, sinister threat in that last sentence hung over the room like death itself.

  “Yes, First Citizen…I have Foudre Rouge platoons sweeping the city. All transit in and out of the capital have been suspended. She may be hiding somewhere, but she won’t escape. There’s no way out for her.” The military officer was maintaining his calm best among those present, but that also only stoked Villieneuve’s anger. Foudre Rouge always gave him the flops, something about the clone soldiers he’d never been able to precisely pinpoint.

  “We have captured over a dozen co-conspirators, though many more committed suicide before we could restrain them.” That was no surprise. Many of Ciara’s plotters were Sector Nine themselves, and they knew all too well what awaited them if they were captured. Villieneuve scowled at the section chief, but secretly he was actually impressed that Sector Nine had managed to catch so many alive. “They are even now being interrogated, First Citizen. I am confident they will supply the intelligence we need to track down…”

  “You are confident, Lusette? Confident? I was confident my intelligence services were watching for potential treason. I was confident your people would find Sandrine Ciara immediately. That was days ago, and all you bring me are excuses, and increasingly worthless promises. Clearly, my confidence was misplaced. So tell, me Sector Chief, General…are you merely incompetent, or are you traitors, too?”

 
Villieneuve often used threats and the appearance of rage to motivate his people. It was the way of the Union, and he knew no motivator was quite as powerful as pure, stark terror. But this time it was no act, no display designed to get his aides’ attention. He was overcome with fury…and he was scared too, at least a little. Sandrine Ciara was a capable operative, more than a match for the idiots standing in his office trying to placate him. He’d known that all along, of course, and he’d even indulged himself that she might one day replace Ricard Lille as his senior operative. Perhaps more tellingly, she’d managed to plan and execute her coup without raising any suspicions, at least not until the last minute. The plot was in ruins, most of its participants dead, or in Sector Nine cells wishing they’d been fortunate enough to be killed. But it had been a nearer run thing than it appeared. Gaston Villieneuve was a sociopath and a paranoid, but he wasn’t a fool. He knew he’d gotten lucky, and it was more than his need to take revenge on those who’d betrayed him driving his wild fury. It was the fear that if he gave Ciara another chance, she very well might succeed.

  “Go,” he shouted, banging his hand down again, this time with a bit more care. “Get back to your work. Find Sandrine Ciara, or the next meeting we have will be far less pleasant than this one.

  The assembled personnel, all bullies and tyrants in their own right, scrambled out toward the door, amid a cacophony of verbal acknowledgements and a heavy cloud of fear. Villieneuve watched as the last of them slipped through the door, and then he leaned back in his chair, letting out a deep breath and putting his hand to his face. He’d allowed his people to see only his anger, the rage that would produce the fear he needed. The fear that would drive them. But he felt some of his own fear, as well. Villieneuve had never been timid, nor one to shy away from a plan because of the risk. But the coup had unnerved him. He’d uncovered a hundred plots against him over the years, but never one that had come so close, that had been so well planned and funded.