Vega stopped and tapped something into her comms. “A temporary promotion, I think. I’m trying you out as a team leader. The lines know, you’re long past ready for it.”
Ean had once told Radko that he could sometimes hear when people like Abram or Helmo or Michelle made decisions. “It’s like a snap,” he’d said. “A sharp color, and they’re done. Instant decision, with a whole plan behind it. As if they’d spent hours thinking it out.”
Radko would bet Vega had just made a decision like that.
“Hah,” Vega said. “And I’ve the perfect job here, especially in light of your recent information. You’ll like this one. You’ve done covert ops before.”
It wasn’t a question. Before she’d come aboard the Lancastrian Princess, Vega had studied everyone’s dossier. Radko answered anyway. “Yes, ma’am.”
Not many, but enough.
“And your Redmond-language skills are good?”
“Yes, ma’am.” In fact, all of Radko’s covert operations to date had been on Redmond, for her parents had planned a career for her as a diplomat long before she’d chosen to join the Lancian fleet. She was skilled in three languages outside Lancian and Standard. Redmond, Carina, and Aquacaelum—and had spent time on each world as a child.
Interestingly, they were all in what was now enemy territory.
“Get yourself some clothes,” Vega said. “Formal business attire. I’ll have someone collect your kit and send it home.”
When Radko came out of the tailoring machine, Vega had gone, but her orders were on Radko’s comms, coded and backdated.
A Redmond trader, Callista OneLane, has acquired what she hints are details of groundbreaking experiments on linesmen. Further, she hints that the records include the data from the last six months, when the parameters changed, and they started getting real success with the experiments.
Six months ago the then-Alliance had discovered the alien spaceships. And realized that current line theory was flawed. And made massive leaps in communicating with the lines, themselves. Radko’s breath quickened. They had to be using what the New Alliance had learned from Ean and his work with the alien lines.
As you can imagine, we’re keen to see those plans.
So was Radko.
They were offered to Sattur Dow, who has bought contraband from OneLane before. Until your report, we had no idea why. Now we do.
Sattur Dow was never getting close enough to Ean to use what he might have learned from those experiments.
Dow is sending Tiana Chen to purchase the report.
Vega was right. Radko did like it.
We’ll delay Chen for twenty-four hours.
You are ideally situated to know what the report shows and how important it is. Check it out, pay what you think we should offer for them.
Above all, don’t get caught, and don’t get yourself killed.
That was Vega, blunt and to the point. Abram Galenos would never have said that. He would assume she was smart enough to stay alive. Radko rubbed her eyes. Change was inevitable, and she liked Vega, but everyone on ship had been comfortable with the old regime.
They’d been happy, Ean had said.
You have been assigned a small team. Your “other” job—
Based on the quotes Radko assumed this was unofficially as important to Vega as the first.
—is to assess them for line ability. Every one of them went through line training and failed certification. I want a full report on each of them, including their level and your assessment of their capabilities.
Radko wasn’t a linesman, but she was better equipped than most to recognize the individual songs of each line. Vega must have been planning this part of the operation for a while.
There’s a ship leaving for Mykara at 1800 hours. Be on it. Leave the ship at Shaolin. Lancia has a cache there. You can arm yourself, and from there you can catch a ship to Redmond.
She had exactly fifteen minutes to make the shuttle Vega had booked for her. Radko shouldered her bag and ran.
CHAPTER FIVE: EAN LAMBERT
Ean and Rossi fixed as many of the damaged lines on Confluence Station as they could, and the twenty linesmen Ean had been training came out the next day to finish off. Abram came along as well.
Ean listened to the trainees’ work.
“There isn’t much more I can teach them,” he told Abram. “They know how to listen now, and how to sing the lines straight.”
“That’s good,” Abram said. “There’s a push to train more. We’ve every world in the New Alliance scouring for suitable linesmen for you to train.”
Singing to the lines wouldn’t be a secret much longer.
They suited up so that Abram could inspect the damaged areas.
“Some worlds have agreed to leave their trained linesmen here to help you,” Abram said. “Provided they can train others from their own world.”
“Hernandez?” Hernandez was a ten. She had spent so much time around the eleven ships, she’d have problems if her home world of Balian took her away.
“Of course,” as if that was a given. It probably was. Admiral Katida of Balian would like her own personal ten knowing everything that went on. “You lose Tai.” Tai was the chief engineer on the Lancastrian Princess. Ean had never expected him to stay. “Chantsmith will stay on the Gruen.”
Chantsmith had always defended the Gruen. “I’m glad.” The Gruen would be happy.
“At least this attack has galvanized those councilors and admirals who were uncertain before. They’re seriously looking for line crews.”
Finally.
“We’re also training paramedics from the various worlds to work with line-related problems. You’ll work with a mix of experienced and inexperienced paramedics for a while.”
“So when does the Confluence get its crew?”
He could tell from the way Abram paused that he wouldn’t like the answer.
“It doesn’t. Not initially. They’re still arguing over who should crew it.”
“It’s not fair the other ships get crews—and captains—while the flagship doesn’t. Besides—” He broke off.
“Besides?” Abram looked wary.
“I promised it was next.”
“I can’t get you a captain, Ean. Not the way we got Kari Wang. This one will take all the politicking—and more—that the first one didn’t.”
How was Ean going to tell the Confluence that? “The lines won’t wait forever. Lines need people.” The more permanent crew a ship had on board, the more aware a ship became. The Eleven was markedly different from the lonely ship they had found in the outer depths of space all those months ago. “How are they crewing the other ships if they’re not crewing the Confluence?”
“We’ve promised every world a ship of its own, provided they agree to remain on permanent loan to the New Alliance fleet.”
That would take some politicking of its own, for there was a range of ships. Fleet carriers, which were the largest outside the eleven ships and had smaller one- and two-man ships on board. There were twenty of them. Patrol ships, smaller than the carriers and not as heavily armed, but some of the weapons were massive. Then there were sixty smaller, faster combat ships with lighter weapons and bigger engines. Lastly were the scouts, which carried six people.
Every world would want the larger ships though many of them were damaged. One of the fleet carriers and two of the patrol ships would have to be rebuilt before they could take crew.