Amos made a low grunting sound in the back of his throat.
“Yeah,” Naomi said, as if the sound had been words. “Something in the ring gates is eating ships.”
Epilogue: Sauveterre
“I have a tracking number,” the captain of the little freight ship said for what had to be the sixth or seventh time. “I have landing papers and a tracking number straight from Amatix Pharmaceuticals. I know the shipment arrived on Medina six months ago. I have a tracking number.”
Sauveterre sipped smoked tea from a bulb as he listened. He would have preferred whiskey from a glass, but he was on duty and the Barkeith was on the float. The first did for the whiskey, the second for the glass. Granted, the captain’s office was private and he could have done whatever he pleased. And, he supposed, he did. Keeping to his duty was a more pleasing thing for him than whiskey, which was as it should be.
“Sabez you got a tracking number, Toreador,” the voice from Medina Station said. “Amatix, though? Esa es Earth-based. No Earth-based companies on Medina.”
The Barkeith was a Donnager-class battleship. A small city in space, run with machined precision and capable of turning not only the little freighter but Medina Station to particles smaller than grains of sand. But it and the rest of Duarte’s fleet were waiting for permission from traffic control on Medina to proceed through the next ring gate and begin the second, stranger leg of their journey. It was an overabundance of etiquette on the fleet’s part, but there were reasons for that. Not the least being the general reluctance to use heavy weapons too near the alien station that hung inert in the vast non-space between the rings. They weren’t ready for that to awaken again. Not yet.
A light knock came at the door. Sauveterre straightened his tunic. “Come.” Lieutenant Babbage opened the door, bracing with a handhold on its frame. She looked anxious as she saluted. Sauveterre let her hold the position for a moment before answering her salute and allowing her to enter.
“I have been en route for ten months!” the captain of the Toreador shouted. “If the colony doesn’t get this shipment, they’re fucked.”
“Have you been listening to this?” Sauveterre asked, nodding toward the speakers.
“No, sir,” Babbage said. Her skin was ashen under the brown. Her lips pressed thin.
“Üzgün, Toreador,” Medina Station said. “You need to dock for medical, wir können—”
“I don’t need to dock for medical! I need my fucking supplies! I have a tracking number that puts them on your station, and I will not—”
Sauveterre cut them off and took another sip of tea. “They’ve been going more or less like that for the better part of an hour. It’s embarrassing on their behalf.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you know why I wanted you to hear it?”
She swallowed her fear, which was good, and her voice didn’t tremble when she spoke, which was better. “To demonstrate what happens when there is a breakdown in discipline, sir.”
“The end point of it, anyway. Yes. I’ve heard you violated dress code. Is that true?”
“It was a bracelet, sir. It belonged to my mother, and I thought…” Her voice trailed off. “Yes, sir. That report is true, sir.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. I appreciate your candor.”
“Permission to speak freely, sir?”
Sauveterre smiled. “Granted.”
“With respect, sir, the dress code was MCRN regulation. If we are going to enumerate transgressions against code, there are some larger ones that might also be worthy of examination. Sir.”
“You mean like being here at all.”
Her expression was hard. She’d overplayed her hand, and she knew it. It happened. Embarrassment and the childish need to stamp her feet and say it wasn’t fair. He wouldn’t have gone there in her place. But since it was on the table, it was on the table. No way but forward.
“We are in a time of flux, that’s true. With the elected government failing its obligations, Admiral Duarte has taken authority and responsibility for the fleet on himself. I, following the chain of command, am carrying out his orders. You, also following the chain of command, are expected to follow mine. This is an independent initiative of the fleet. It’s not a free-for-all.”
“Sir,” she said. She meant Yes, sir, but she hadn’t said the yes part.
“Do you know what happens if I write you up for your failure to follow fleet discipline?”
“I could be demoted, sir.”
“You could. If things continued, you could be drummed out. Removed from duty. Dishonorably discharged. Not over this, of course. This is small, but if it became large. You understand?”
“I do, sir.”
“If you were discharged, what do you think would happen?”
She looked at him, confused. He gestured with his free hand, a sweep that gave her permission to speak.
“I… don’t…” she stammered.
“I don’t know either,” he said. “Back at Mars, you’d have been released to civilian life. But where we’re going, there is no civilian life. No human life at all. Do I turn you out to fend for yourself in the local food chain? Do I spend the time and resources it would take to send you back, and then back where? The forces that have taken control on Mars would see you as a traitor just the same as they would me. They’d throw you in the brig for life unless you cooperated with them. And if you were going to cooperate with them, then it wouldn’t make sense for me to send you back in the first place. Would it?”
“No, sir.” He could see understanding beginning to dawn in her eyes. Only beginning to, though. Humanity was so flawed. Not just her, but everyone. Half the population was below average intelligence. Half below average dedication. Average adherence to duty. The cruel law of statistics. It was astounding that as a race they’d managed as much as they had.
“Now that we are taking initiative,” he said, “it is more important than ever that we maintain strict discipline. We’re like the first long-haul missions back before anyone had an Epstein drive. Months, maybe years, as a community of warriors and explorers. There’s not room for outsiders when there is no outside. I know you’re upset that—”
“No, sir, I’m not—”
“I know you’re upset that I’m coming down on you for something as minor as a bracelet. It seems trivial, and it is. But if I wait until it’s not trivial, we come to matters of life and death very, very quickly. I don’t have the latitude to take a cavalier position.”
“I understand, sir.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that.”
He held out his hand, palm up. Babbage wiped away a tear with the back of her hand, and then dug in her pocket for a moment. When she put the bracelet in his hand, she paused, holding it for just a second longer. Whatever it meant to her, giving it over was a sacrifice. He closed his hand on the thin silver chain with its tiny sparrow-shaped pendant. He tried to make his smile gentle as he spoke.
“Dismissed.”
When she had closed the door behind her, he turned back to his system. A new message had come in from Cortázar. His flesh crawled a little. Duarte’s pet scientist had been sending more and more messages since the Belters had pulled the trigger. The man’s enthusiasm unnerved Sauveterre. The man’s personality was firmly in the uncanny valley, and his pleasure in the project they were undertaking at the new Laconia Station had a feeling of anticipation that was almost sexual.