Blair left the terminal and hustled past three jump-drive specialists in white utilities who appeared exceptionally exhausted. The Claw had jumped from Mylon to Lethe to the Lafayette-Tamayo midpoint, and would now jump at Blytheheart. The ship would make more jumps in a week than it had in the past two standard months. Blair empathized with the techs; while everyone else had time to kill, they worked furiously to maintain the drive, an older system infamous for breaking down.
Two corridors later, he slipped into the lift and ascended to the pilots' quarters. This section of the ship took up three decks, began amidships, and stretched back to the environmental control room. Nameplates hung outside each hatch, and Blair's legs grew weak at the sight of Angel's door. As squadron commander, she enjoyed the luxury of private quarters. The rest of the pilots had been paired up to share quarters-not a bad arrangement unless your bunkmate happened to be Maniac. Before the Claw's refitting, twelve or more pilots had been assigned to a single cabin crammed with cots and lockers. Blair's past experiences told him to be thankful for his room and head, despite having to share them with Maniac.
"Lieutenant?"
Blair shuddered as he recognized the voice. He turned to face Gerald. "Yes, sir?"
"I was just coming down to see you."
"You were?" he asked, astounded that the man had not summoned him. Captains, interim or otherwise, didn't go waltzing around the ship in search of junior officers unless that particular junior officer was in a whole lot of trouble.
"Were you headed to your quarters?" Gerald glanced at Angel's hatch. "Or are you here to see Commander Deveraux?"
He stammered. "No, I was headed to my quarters, sir."
"We'll talk on the way."
Blair grimaced inwardly, then joined the man. They walked in silence for several steps, then Blair blurted out, "Sir, if this is about my loyalty-"
"You might be a Pilgrim half-breed, Lieutenant, but you've earned my trust. You killed Admiral Wilson, a traitor to the Confederation. You could have just as easily killed me."
Though barely into his twenties, Blair felt a heart attack coming on, one inspired by Gerald's forthrightness. Wilson had forced Blair and Gerald into a duel, and Blair had chosen to throw his blade at Wilson-not out of any particular love for Gerald, but because it had been the right thing to do, a less bad choice in a flawed universe. "Sir, I was just doing my duty, sir."
"Yes, you were. And now I have a particularly delicate assignment for you that requires your faith in the unified chain of command and what you know your duty should be, what it always should be. This assignment will be compartmentalized. You will report only to me."
Ah, yes, Gerald's forthrightness had been born of an ulterior motive. Moreover, Blair thought it odd that the man would brief him on some covert op while walking through a corridor outside the pilots' quarters. Then again, anyone who spotted them might think the captain was just making his daily inspection and had run into Lieutenant Blair. Given recent events and Blair's heritage, the two should have a lot to talk about.
"It's no secret that the commodore and I, well, we have political differences," Gerald continued. "Despite that, I respect his knowledge of Pilgrim tactics and theology. But I've just received some disturbing information."
"Sir, for what it's worth, Commodore Taggart is one of the most skilled and loyal Confederation officers I know. Sure, I'm biased because we're both Pilgrims, but we're as loyal to the Confederation as any pure-blood Terran. Admiral Tolwyn trusts Paladin, sir. Why can't you?"
"Because our esteemed commodore had a five-year relationship with Captain Aristee. According to my sources, she broke it off."
Though difficult, Blair feigned his surprise. Paladin had told him a little about his relationship with Aristee. They had met when she had been temporarily assigned to Intell as part of her XO training. Paladin had described her as "a woman of sinister beauty," and "a siren who made me drunk and silly in love, then flitted off with my broken soul." Blair enjoyed the way the commodore spoke, his taste in reading evident in his speech. But how the hell had Gerald discovered this with the Tiger Claw deep in interstellar space? And if Paladin learned that Gerald knew, then Paladin might blame the leak on Blair. Better to go to the commodore and tip him off before word reached him through another channel. But who had told Gerald? Had Paladin told anyone else on board?
"You don't look so surprised," Gerald added.
"I don't think the commodore's personal life is any of my business, sir."
"I figured he told you. And your expression confirms that. I want to believe that Admiral Tolwyn sent him because he had that relationship and might be able to second-guess her. But I think the admiral is taking a great risk with my ship and her crew. It's safe to assume that when push comes to shove, Mr. Taggart will attempt to arrest Captain Aristee rather than kill her. Would you agree with that assumption?"
Blair looked into his mind's eye and saw Paladin's somber expression when he spoke of Aristee. "Sir, I believe that Commodore Taggart would make the right decision." Blair wished he could have said that again; the words sounded halfhearted. In truth, he could not be sure what Paladin would do. And the doubt he felt now was exactly what Gerald wanted him to feel.
They paused a moment as two pilots from Fourth Squadron saluted them, then moved by. Blair looked after the jocks, who returned curious glances.
"It seems that the commodore is the best-and the worst- man for the job," Gerald said. "While I trust his desire to find Captain Aristee, once we do, I need you to act in the best interests of the Confederation. Do you understand what I'm saying, Lieutenant?"
"Sir, you want me to spy on the commodore?"
"I didn't say that."
"I see. Then I assure you, sir, that I will act accordingly."
"Very well, then." He muttered a quick, "Lieutenant," then spun on his heel and double-timed back toward the lift.
Blair saluted the man's back, released a loud sigh, then walked the fifteen meters to his hatch. He keyed in the code and stepped inside.
Maniac had returned to bed after the jump, to continue sleeping off his dancing and drinking binge. Blair settled back onto his own cot, closed his eyes, and considered what Gerald had told him. He wanted very badly to believe that Paladin would do the right thing, but when it came to lost love, didn't most people act foolishly? But he's a mature, seasoned officer, Blair reminded himself. He knows how to callous himself when necessary.
But what would I do if I were in his position? What if Angel and I had a long-standing relationship, then ten years later I discover that she's a traitor to the Confederation and I'm charged with the duty to bring her in? Wouldn't I want to save her somehow? Wouldn't I want to put aside all of the bullshit politics and save her?
Blair jerked as he realized that he would. And maybe it was safer to assume that Paladin had a personal agenda. Sure, he could confront the man, but-
Another thought snared him. He bolted out of the cot, went to the terminal, and dialed up the commodore's quarters. A handful of seconds later, the man leaned toward the camera, shirtless and bleary-eyed. "What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"
"Sir-" Blair choked up as the enormity of what he was about to do hit home. "Gerald is aware of you and Captain Aristee. He says he has sources who informed him."