"So Gregarov stood by and did nothing while the Pilgrims assembled the drive?"
"She wanted them to build it. Pilgrims were the original engineers, and the unit often requires a Pilgrim to assist in the operation. She figured she'd take possession before they could use it. Trouble is, the Pilgrims realized there was a leak and fed misinformation to Intell. Aristee got the drive online before Gregarov could react."
The magnitude of what the space marshal had done sent Bel-legarde toward the bulkhead. He raised his fist, thought better of slamming it on the durasteel. "She sat there in the wardroom and tried to blame us for civilian deaths. The blood's on her hands. Did she know about Bill Wilson as well?"
"I'm not sure. In any event, you and I have new orders for which I take full responsibility. If we can't confiscate that drive, then no one else can have it." Tolwyn looked sadly to the deck. "And if that means destroying the ship and losing two of our own, then so be it."
The hatch suddenly opened, and Space Marshal Gregarov carried her glare into the map room. "Lieutenant Wilks just summoned me here. When I asked him to report, he provided me with a lengthy description of a message forwarded from the Barnicket Light. Why wasn't I informed sooner?"
She had directed her question to Tolwyn, but Bellegarde jumped all over it. "Why weren't we informed of your decision to allow the Pilgrims to build a hopper drive?"
"Richard, this is neither the time nor the-"
"I think it is," Bellegarde boldly corrected. "I think the space marshal owes us an explanation-and an apology."
Gregarov lifted a derisive grin. "I heard you weren't much of a diplomat, Mr. Bellegarde. I got a taste of that in the wardroom, but now I really see what they mean. Guess the bottle can do that."
He opened his mouth to launch a retort.
"You can't blame this crisis on me," she went on. "But you have no conception of the forces at work here."
"Then educate me."
"I'm sorry, but I'm not at liberty to divulge that information."
"Ma'am?" Tolwyn said, slipping between them. "It's highly likely that Aristee will get that drive modified and head back to Earth to create a gravity well that will consume planet. The Tiger Claw and the Fosubius battle group are already standing by there. I've left the Oregon and Mitchell Hammock at Nether-anya. We'll join the Claw and post our battle group here to maintain the no-fly zone."
Gregarov swung her head toward the holograph gleaming above them. "When you look at the stars like this, they seem… I don't know… deceptive. You don't realize that billions of people are out there living on those dots." She faced Tolwyn, her eyes welling up. "geoff, you have to believe me when I say I didn't know so many would die. None of us did."
"You gambled. You lost. Now the bill's come due." Tolwyn raised a brow, then hustled toward the hatch.
"Next time gamble with your own life." Bellegarde didn't wait for her reply. He double-timed into Tolwyn's shadow, leaving Gregarov alone with her remorse.
Which wouldn't change a damned thing now.
Never before had Admiral Vukar watched so many brave warriors plummet to their deaths. The Pilgrims had squeezed their organs or had forced them to gouge out their eyes or even their hearts. The mutated apes had dishonored him and his clan on a scale once unimaginable. A single dreadnought escorted his flagship now, a single dreadnought depleted of its fighters.
They continued pursuing the supercruiser, and Tactical Officer Makorshk had twice during the past fourteen standard days led a team charged with lightening their load and increasing their velocity. Perhaps they could narrow the gap enough to make one last assault on the supercruiser. Still, during their last strike, they had thought that the Pilgrims with telekinetic-like powers would be recovering from destroying the cruisers; he and Makorshk had not figured that more Pilgrims waited in reserve, and those fanatical apes had effortlessly plucked his last cruiser and the destroyer from the sky.
At the moment, more Pilgrims could be standing by, waiting for them to make a move. No, Vukar would not recklessly throw away his warriors' lives, despite the honor of dying in battle and the heat of the blood frenzy that left him tense and sweating at the end of each day. There had to be a way to disable that lone ship and take possession without springing the enemy's trap.
"Kalralahr?"
Vukar stirred in his meditation chair, then reached to the comm display's control panel. Makorshk stared back at him, the folds of his face loose and forming an expression of despair. "We've jettisoned the last from engineering and crew's quarters, but we've only brought velocity up to one-two-nine KPS. The drive's beginning to superheat. The Kot'Akri reports the same. Our prey continues to lead by nearly one hundred and eighty thousand kilometers. Ion emissions remain stable. We have a distinct trail."
"But we won't get close enough to launch another ship-to-ship assault. It is a physical impossibility."
"Yes, but we do have two weapons left. Our fighters and our Skipper missiles. We've given the Pilgrims too much time already. They'll jump soon. We're at maximum velocity and as close as we'll get. The time has come."
Vukar drew nutrient gas through his broad nostrils and exhaled in a burst. "If we send fighters, they'll simply kill our pilots with their minds. And if we launch Skipper missiles, we won't disable the ship-we'll destroy it. Perhaps no one is meant to have that drive."
"It may take a few hours, but we can replace the warheads in our Skippers with low-level explosives and program them to lock on to ion engines. The photon cloaks should help to get them close enough. Fighter interdiction will be the Pilgrims' only way to stop them."
"What makes you believe our Skippers can evade their counter-assault?"
"We can launch our fighters to keep theirs busy. We outnumber them nearly three-to-one. But most of our pilots won't make it back. They'll either run out of fuel or exceed the ten-hour life support limit."
"Or have their hearts crushed, their eyes torn out."
"We have no defense against that, but we cannot shame ourselves and our clan. If we die, we die with honor. Perhaps you believe that you've already sent too many of the hrai to their deaths. But Kalralahr, not a single life was wasted-all fought with honor until the end. So should we."
"You sound more like an elder than a tactical officer," Vukar mused. "It seems you've found your way in a changing universe. And you remind me of my own."
"Kalralahr, I knew that one day we would embrace in death. Whether it be here or on the challenge ground hardly matters. Know that I've despised you to the core. But you have done something no other officer would: you let me speak, and you listened. For that, I owe you my life, and there is no one else more worthy to receive it."
Vukar scrutinized the young warrior, probing for insincerity but discovering only a stalwart commitment to the words. Makorshk had come a long way, and Vukar felt even more justified in delaying the challenge. "Give the order. Modify our Skipper missiles. Prepare our fighters for launch. I'll be here or in my quarters. Alert me when the time comes."