“If this is what the New Alliance line program is about, then no wonder we’re losing the war,” Kentish said.
“You’re part of that program, Kentish,” Ean said. “If you stay in it, you’ll have a say in how it goes.” He sounded like Sale. “You can change it from the inside once you’re in, but if you get kicked out, you lose your chance.”
“It’s self-destructing from the inside. It has been ever since they put a nobody in charge instead of a respected linesman like Jordan Rossi.”
Fergus, who’d been nearby checking the last of the downed linesmen, stood up and came over to join them. “Yet without that ‘nobody,’ people like you and me wouldn’t be linesmen, Nadia.”
The other Xanto linesmen moved in front of Kentish, as if she was under attack.
“So they say. I haven’t seen any evidence of line ability yet.”
“Maybe because you haven’t listened.”
“I still wouldn’t pass line certification.”
“That’s because line testing is flawed.” How many times did he have to say it before they would believe him? “You’re a single-level linesman. You’ll never pass certification because current testing starts at one and goes up. But you’re a linesman all the same.”
“And you know this. How?”
“If you listened to the lines, you’d know it yourself. But you won’t. Instead, you listen to people like Peters spouting poison and choose to believe them instead.” Ean forced himself to calm, for the lines were getting agitated, and that was sure to bring Gruen back with a demand they all get off her ship. “You won’t allow yourself to hear. Your mind is closed. Your ears are closed. And as long as they’re closed, you’ll never make it as a linesman in this fleet. Because the lines have no use for someone who doesn’t listen.”
Rossi sniggered.
“And you need to learn some things, too,” Ean told him.
“What, listening?”
“You need to learn to trust the lines. You’re as paranoid as these people. You can’t try to kill me every time we attempt something new because you’re scared.”
“You can’t blame me for being scared. You are out of control.”
He should shut up now, or otherwise the whole thing would escalate again. Ean gritted his teeth. “You have to trust the lines.”
“I trust the lines. What I don’t trust is some crazy, out-of-control human line twelve who has no idea what he’s doing. You’ve been lucky so far, Lambert, but one day you’ll be wrong. And I don’t want to be near you when you are wrong because you have so much power, you’ll destroy us all. Including the elevens. My job”—he thumped his chest with the arm the paramedic had splinted for him; Ean felt the twinge of pain that came with it—“is to keep us alive since you obviously don’t care if we live or die.”
He did care. “There’s a war on.”
“What did I miss?” Fergus asked.
“You jumped a ship cold into the middle of a fleet of ships.”
“What did I miss?” Fergus asked the Xanto quartet. Lina Vang shook her head.
“The alien ships don’t jump into each other.”
“Wait.” Fergus held up a hand to both of them. “Just wait. Ean, why did you jump a ship?”
“Redmond was trying to steal it.” Jakob and the linesmen were from the Worlds of the Lesser Gods, but the captain had been speaking Redmond.
“As if,” Nadia Kentish said. “We haven’t heard about it. And we were in line training when all this happened.”
Rossi pulled himself to his feet. “On the contrary, sweetheart. No one is disputing that Redmond attempted to steal a line ship. They’re still chasing the thieves now. It’s on the news vids.”
Galactic News had picked up the story—Ean could see them running the vid of Scout Ship Three appearing in the midst of the Eleven fleet. Then the Iolo disappearing.
“Your ship, incidentally. Which you are ignoring.” Based on Rossi’s malicious smile, that barb was for Ean, though he’d been talking to the Xantos. “No. What we are arguing about is the high-handed way Lambert deals with problems like this. He’s like a loaded weapon with all the safeties off. One day, you’ll pick it up, and it will discharge.”
Ru Li, Hana, and Hernandez came in then. “Linesmen lockdown,” Ru Li said to the Xantos. “And you’re the last four not in your cabins.”
They went silently.
Out in the corridor, Bhaksir finished her call to Sale with a heartfelt, “I wish Radko were here.”
So did Ean.
The Eleven chased the Iolo for four hours. Captain Yorath, on the Iolo, tried the whole time to get another jump. Ean sent the requests through the lines to the Eleven fleet ships, where they stopped.
The ships finally got into clear space. Captain Kari Wang gave one warning. “Attention, the Iolo. Surrender, or we will fire. You have three minutes to surrender.”
The Iolo fired on the Eleven, but they’d been watching the feeds from the Iolo’s bridge all this time. By now they knew how many people were on board and had feeds of every board. They knew where the weapons were aimed. The Eleven avoided the shot, and the next one. Then fired a shot of its own.
That was all it took. One shot. A beam of some kind that Kari Wang admitted she had no idea what it did, but one of her eights wanted her to try it.
If it hadn’t been for the captain of the Iolo’s insisting everyone wear suits, “Because we don’t know what this ship can do,” there wouldn’t have been any prisoners, for the beam sliced the ship open.
Galactic Media hadn’t filmed that final battle, but two hours later it was showing on the vids. The image must have come from the Eleven itself.
Ean tried to avoid watching it.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: DOMINIQUE RADKO
The second crate of iced Gippian shellfish got them down to Aeolus, the largest Redmond world. They left Leonard happily talking about the fate of the other crate—the one he hadn’t delivered to Redmond. Tonight, the crew on Captain Engen’s ship would dine on fresh Gippian shellfish.
“With Lancian wine,” Han had said. “That’s what you normally eat them with. “Golden Lake wine from the Radko”—he stumbled over that, recovered—“Estates is best.” He looked at Radko, carefully this time.
“I don’t know about Lancian wine,” Leonard said. “We’ll use anything we’ve got. Now, if you want to avoid official entry, you should slip out the side door here. Bergin, down the end, takes a flat thousand-credit fee.”
“Thank you,” Radko said.
Bergin dressed like he made a lot of money out of people entering illegally. It was hard to believe he hadn’t attracted the attention of the authorities. Then, he probably had. It was as good a way as any of keeping track of illegal aliens on your world.
“Use these noncitizen chits when you purchase anything.” He held out four discs, and waited.
“Thanks.” Radko handed over chits worth four thousand credits and received the IDs in return. “We’re looking for a clinic. Can you recommend one that won’t ask questions?”
He paused. She held out a two-hundred-credit chit.
“The more you pay, the better quality advice you get.”
“She’s only asking a question,” Han said.
Radko added another two hundred.
“Fabro’s clinic. Two blocks down. They’re discreet. They take chits.” Bergin pocketed the chits. “Welcome to the center of the universe.” He smiled at Han. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you.”