“We don’t do codes by numbers,” Vega said. “Ours are names, like Situation Josiah.”
From the way Michelle nodded, Josiah was a real code. Maybe the numbers were a personal code between Bach and his boss.
“Vega, who is Yves Han, and is he or she with Radko?”
Vega spilled the tea she was bringing across to Michelle. She didn’t say anything until she’d mopped up and made another glass.
“I want a linesman of my own,” she told Michelle. “If we all had personal linesmen, we wouldn’t have any need for war, for nothing would be secret.”
Michelle’s smile showed her dimples. The best smile. “Level twelve. They’re hard to come by.”
“I still want one. One that I control, rather than one that controls me. So, Lambert, where did you hear about Han?”
“Bach was talking about him earlier, to someone called Lord Renaud. He was on the comms to him when we went in to supper.”
Not that they’d had any supper.
“He told Renaud he’d deal with it, then he called up this other woman, told her to find out who had assigned Yves Han to a covert operation, and said he wanted their head on his desk by the morning. She called back later—before Michelle arrived—and said she’d found who assigned Han to Redmond. You had. After that, Bach called his code five. I think they went down to the planet so they could talk about you.”
“Is that Renaud Han’s son?” Michelle asked.
Vega nodded. “Yves Han. He worked for me for two years when I was at Baoshan Barracks. He’s very good. He’s wasted where he is.”
Of course Vega would send good people with Radko.
“I sent three people with Radko. All failed linesmen. She is, after all, uniquely positioned to understand the abilities and difficulties of working with such people.”
If it was meant to be an insult, Ean ignored it.
“Two of them had failed certification. Yves Han didn’t. He certified with House of Sandhurst. Level seven, and the lines know, we need sevens. He came home not long afterward to attend a function.” She looked at Michelle. “He is Lord Renaud’s son, after all.”
Michelle nodded.
“He stopped off at a hotel before the event. The day some crazy woman blew herself up there. Killed fifty people. Yves Han spent six months in hospital having his body rebuilt. When he came out he couldn’t communicate with the lines anymore. The doctors say there was no brain damage, and that his loss of lines is psychosomatic, rather than physical, in origin. They posit that he was doing something line-related at the time of the explosion, and that it is so intertwined with the memory of the explosion that he shuts down whenever he tries to use the lines.”
“And you thought Ean might be able to fix it.”
“Lambert’s method of interacting with the lines is different,” Vega said. “I thought it might be strange enough to bypass any mental blocks.”
She might be right.
“Han’s father said he was in trouble,” Ean said. “He wanted Bach to rescue him.”
Damage control, Bach had said. What were they doing on Redmond anyway?
“Let’s find out what the trouble is,” Vega said. “And let’s hope Bach isn’t talking to Lord Renaud at the same time.”
The time lag between Lancia and the Haladean sector was nineteen minutes.
While they waited, Sale went down to the mess and came back with plates of supper. “If it’s okay with you, ma’am,” she said apologetically, and Ean wasn’t sure who she was saying it to. “But neither of us have eaten yet.”
“I haven’t eaten in ages either,” Michelle said. “I wouldn’t mind something myself.”
“Remember the sandwiches when we met,” Ean said, and he and Michelle shared a smile.
“I’ll never forget.”
Michelle’s comms buzzed. Her father. Ean thought about tracing the comms.
“Daughter,” Yu said. “Call a council meeting immediately. Your betrothed wishes to request a favor of them.”
Michelle looked taken aback. “It is midnight. By the time I got them together, it would be time for tomorrow’s regular council meeting.”
“Are you—”
“Of course not, Father. But I refuse to make a fool of myself organizing a meeting when one will already happen within hours. Nor should you. It was you yourself who taught me to save the fights for the important things. What is this matter which is of such great import?”
“And if Admiral Galenos asked you to organize a council meeting, what would you say? Wait?”
Michelle took a deep breath.
Yu had no right to do this to anyone.
Vega put a hand on Ean’s arm. Out of sight of Michelle’s comms. He hadn’t realized he’d opened his mouth to speak.
“I would tell him the same thing.” Michelle took a deep breath. “I will ask that the Factor be allowed to address the council after the regular session. What does he wish to speak to them about?”
“Why, the capture of the Iolo and the betrayal of Captain Jakob, of course.”
“Very well,” Michelle said.
After Michelle clicked off, she stared at her comms. “I don’t know how many more favors the council will grant us. We are fast running out of friends.”
“Maybe the Factor should have requested it himself,” Vega said. “I hear he’s fast making them.”
Ean thought of Admiral Trask, and his carefully worded warnings. Of how many of the admirals who’d spoken to Ean wanted the Worlds of the Lesser Gods on the New Alliance’s side. They could all see advantages having allies close to Redmond. They just didn’t like the way it was being done.
Renaud Han called then.
Lord Renaud had been on the vids often when Ean was a boy. This harried, anguished man looked nothing like the elegant lord Ean remembered from his childhood.
“Lord Renaud,” Vega said. “I am from the Palace Guard. About your call earlier. Your son. What exactly is the problem?”
They waited for the call to travel to Lancia and back.
Vega didn’t give her name, but nineteen minutes later, when the call came back, Lord Renaud looked into the screen as if trying to see her properly. “Captain Vega.” His face cleared with relief. “We’ve met before. You were my son’s commanding officer on Baoshan.”
“I was,” Vega agreed.
“Only it’s Commodore now, of course. Congratulations on your promotion.”
“Thank you,” Vega said.
Neither of her answers would get back to Lancia for another nineteen minutes.
“Lord Renaud,” Vega said. “I need to know what trouble your son is in and what we can do to fix it.”
Ean dozed while he waited for the reply.
“It’s difficult to explain over the comms,” Renaud said. Ean heard the hot spike of Vega’s impatience. “You see, Yves thinks he was on a job, and I’m concerned my comms are not secure enough.”
“Is it bugged?” Vega asked Ean.
“I can only tell about this end.”
“Damn. I need answers, bugged or not. Can you make it secure, Ean?”
Ean had no control on ships outside the sector. “No”
“We’ll have to send him into the barracks to get it coded.” Vega looked back at the screen. “Lord Renaud. I need to know exactly what happened. I want you to go into the barracks. I’ll have someone ready for you. I want you to tell the whole story. They’ll record it, encode it, and send it to me. Tell everything, even things you don’t think necessary. Do you understand?”
“We could jump the Lancastrian Princess back to Lancian space and pick him up,” Ean suggested, while they waited for the reply. “Then he could tell us face-to-face.”