Silence greeted his words.
“We switched the Eleven and Confluence Station yesterday. That’s a tiny jump window, compared to what we usually have.”
“We also knew where both ships were,” Helmo said. “I won’t risk a cold jump. Kari Wang won’t either.”
Marcus Helmo was not a man who scared easily, yet he had a deep-seated fear of jumping cold. That fear was starting to freeze the Lancastrian Princess lines right now.
“They’ve done it before. If you listen to your ship, you’ll be safe,” Ean said to Helmo.
“Can you guarantee 100 percent—absolutely 100 percent—that we won’t jump into another ship?”
Could he? If he was wrong, he condemned everyone on the Eleven to death. He didn’t want that. “We need a jump, then.”
Abram bought jumps on the black market. It was an expensive business, and fraught with danger, for eventually the Union of Gate Worlds would realize what the marketeer was doing. There was always the worry that this time, the jump would be a setup, and they’d be sent into another ship, or into an asteroid.
Abram checked his comms. “The only one I have in the next two hours is close to Roscracia.”
Two hours. Abram planned for them to go right now.
Michelle managed to laugh. “That would go down well. Why, hello Admiral Markan,” for Roscracia was a populous Gate Union world, and home to Markan, who headed the Gate Union war effort. “We’re just dropping by to get a jump.”
“Actually”—Abram’s eyes gleamed—“it might work. Are we likely to be refused a jump from Roscracia? Especially if Ean taps into one of the military ships there and uses that to request it.”
It was even safe, for they knew Ean could control the lines on other ships.
“You are certifiably crazy, you know that.” But Helmo was grinning. “It’s insane enough to work.”
Abram reached for his comms.
“Might I remind you,” Vega said. “You are taking our only level-twelve linesman into the heart of enemy territory. A member of Her Royal Highness’s personal staff. Someone from whom that same enemy recently tried to get information.”
“They’ll only be there long enough to get another jump,” Abram said. “The jump window we have is for a civilian ship. It won’t be anywhere near the warships.”
The captain of the Eleven came up on the comms.
“Captain Kari Wang, we are deploying the Eleven to the incident at Aratoga. Linesman Lambert will accompany you. We’ll send you a situation report and plan of action. Execute it as soon as the linesman is on board.”
“Not that I like losing our twelve,” Helmo said. “I would prefer Lambert stayed here.”
At least Helmo thought Ean was part of the Lancastrian Princess crew.
Vega had taken out her comms as well. “Bhaksir, you and your team are assigned to active duty on the Eleven. Protecting Linesman Lambert. Prepare to move out in five.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Through the lines, Ean heard Bhaksir call up the rest of her team on Confluence Station and relay those orders.
Ean stood up. When they made decisions around here, they moved fast.
“Ean,” Abram said. “You know what you have to do?”
“Use another ship’s comms to book a jump.” It would be so much easier to jump to Aratogan space. He forced himself not to rub his palms down his sides. He wished Radko were here. It wasn’t a hard job. He’d listened in to other ships’ comms before. He’d stopped them firing on the Lancastrian Princess.
“Choose a military ship, if you can. They’ll get jumps fast.”
Ean nodded.
“And don’t, whatever you do, sing the enemy ship into the fleet.”
“I’ll try not to.” He couldn’t promise something like that.
Sale, Bhaksir, and Craik had discussed at length how lucky they’d been with Wendell and Gruen. Wendell had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and his home world of Wallacia had branded him and his crew traitors. Wendell had no love for either side, but the New Alliance let him keep his ship, and that was the most important thing to him. As for Gruen—she had left the Roscracian military after Admiral Markan had refused to get back her captured ship. They wouldn’t be lucky a third time. If Ean sang a Gate Union military ship into the Eleven’s fleet and they kept the captain on, he’d be singing a spy into their midst.
“Thank you.”
Michelle stopped him. “Take care.”
“You too, Michelle.” And Ean smiled at her. “Everything will work out.” He didn’t mean just the upcoming battle, which he deliberately wasn’t thinking about.
“What happens if Lambert mucks up?” Vega asked.
The smile in Abram’s tone was reflected by a red-mint-cinnamon spurt of amusement from Michelle. “Ean can be unconventional, but he usually manages.”
At least it had stopped that awful worry that had been circulating through the ship earlier.
Abram opened his comms again. “Galenos here. Get me Admirals Orsaya, Katida, and MacClennan.”
They were the other admirals in the Alien Affairs Department of the New Alliance, which was the department in charge of the alien ships. Abram would have to get their agreement to run this trial. Or did Abram, being in charge, decide, and just tell them?
“Battle.” The song of the Eleven was pleased. “Fight.”
Sometimes the ships seemed a little bloodthirsty to Ean. He forgot they had been warships.
And behind all that, the thread of a sad whisper from the Confluence. “If we had a crew, we could fight, too.”
CHAPTER SIX: DOMINIQUE RADKO
On the shuttle, Radko received another package of data from Vega.
Radko was tapping out a careful set of instructions for Bhaksir:
Just because he wears the uniform, don’t expect Ean to know everything. He hasn’t had the training. Explain things. He doesn’t think like a soldier; he thinks like a line. Lines don’t think the way we do.
She paused over the SEND button, and deleted it instead. The team would cope perfectly well without her. Ean would, too. Then took a moment to compose herself before she opened Vega’s message.
OneLane’s shop is in the FourDogs district of Bane, the largest city on Satan’s Gate.
Satan’s Gate was the main Redmond world. Radko had spent time in Bane, even knew of the FourDogs district although she’d never been there. It was a well-to-do area full of high-class boutiques and antiques shops. She pulled up images to view the address Vega had supplied.
The shop had a narrow entry, with artfully displayed artifacts in the window. The window was crisscrossed with a grating that glowed a soft blue around the edges. A security field. Whatever OneLane had in there, she liked it well protected. Radko saw four cameras at the front of the shop, and although she couldn’t see the back, they would be there, somewhere.
A discreet plaque on the wall advertised LoneField Security—one of the best in the business.
Radko turned back to Vega’s comms.
You have a team of three. They’ll join you on the freighter to Shaolin.
Theodora van Heel works in surveillance. She has worked in intelligence for twenty years, the last six behind a desk. She is a class hacker and can break into most systems. A reliable person when you need to break into a system or to cover your tracks, but every year she is called in for remedial target practice. That, and her level of fitness, are the main reasons she is behind a desk rather than in the field.