“Joan of Arc? You could do much worse. I like to imagine Nelson was one of my ancestors. Fortunately for us, and for them I suppose, they were too far separated in time to have fought each other.” Lady Vitali grew serious. “We prefer to think we have outgrown war here, but we haven’t. We’ve simply strangled it in bureaucracy and red tape.”
“Perhaps that’s the best humanity can hope for,” Geary remarked.
“No. I don’t believe so. We frustrate the belligerent, who head for the stars to fulfill their agendas. We make it hard to start a war and easy to leave. All we’re doing is exporting aggression to the stars.”
“Is that why some of you look at us like we’re the latest barbarians to come here?” Desjani asked.
“Of course it is. We admire what you and your ship did to those boors who called themselves the Shield of Sol, but we also… worry about it. We don’t want war as you are accustomed to it to come here again.”
“We’re leaving tomorrow,” Geary said. Back to the not-technically-a-war-anymore aggression by the remnants of the Syndicate Worlds, back to the many hidden threats in the Alliance, and back to the menaces posed by the enigmas and the Kicks.
“You’re our children,” an old man said in a gruff voice. “We sent you to the stars, then we left you on your own while we blew the hell out of Earth and the other planets here in some more wars. We hoped that you would learn some wisdom that we have lacked, that you would someday come home with the secret of peace. But how could you be better than your mothers and your fathers? You’re our children,” he repeated, taking a long drink of wine.
“We look to our ancestors for wisdom,” Tanya said.
“Don’t bother looking here,” the man said, putting down his empty glass. “We’re not wise. We’re tired. Maybe somewhere out there, you’ll find an answer. Maybe those Dancers know the secret.”
Recalling the terrible defenses with which the Dancers defended their region of space, Geary did not think so, but he nodded politely. “It’s possible. We’ll keep looking, and maybe we will find the answer.”
“And we’ll keep blowing the hell out of anything that gets in the way of humanity’s quest for peace,” Tanya grumbled in a voice too low for anyone but Geary to hear.
He wasn’t certain how many hours elapsed before he and Tanya could politely say their good-nights and make their way to their rooms. Certainly it was late enough for the fabled constellations of stars seen from Old Earth to shine brilliantly above.
They had intended to take full advantage of this final night, now that all official duties were over and, for a few brief hours, they could simply be man and wife rather than admiral and captain. Once back aboard Dauntless, any romantic familiarity would be off-limits. Two suites had been set aside for them, but they both went into his. The door had no sooner closed behind them than Tanya smiled at Geary. “Come here, Admiral.”
But, like many plans, this one did not survive contact with reality. Their lips had barely touched when a soft but insistent knock sounded on the door.
“It had better be very important,” Tanya growled.
Thinking the exact same thing, Geary yanked open the door.
Lady Vitali stood there. When they had left her a few minutes before, she had seemed fairly tipsy. Now she looked at them with no signs of intoxication apparent. “I must apologize for an unexpectedly abrupt end to our hospitality. Among the other inventions which Earth may have given the universe was the idea of assassins. Some who fit that name are en route this place as we speak.”
After so many surprises in combat situations, Geary’s mind took only a second to reorient this time. “Assassins? Are we their target?”
“I believe so. Or, rather, my sources of information believe so, and I believe them. Unfortunately, their message only just now reached me. I have called some friends who have a shuttle, which will take you to your ship in orbit. It will be here within fifteen minutes.”
Geary’s instinct to act warred with sudden suspicion. “No offense, but why should we trust you in this?”
“Because I was told that if you needed to be convinced of my trustworthiness, I should mention the name Anna Cresida.”
Tanya caught his eye and nodded. Anna Cresida, the last name of a close friend dead in the war paired with a false first name, was the code agreed upon by the senior personnel aboard Dauntless to inconspicuously authenticate critical information they might have to pass to each other while on Old Earth or to indicate a dangerous situation if one arose.
“Who told you that name?” Geary asked.
“It’s a long story, and time is short, Admiral. Nor is any answer I give likely to convince you if you do not accept the name itself.”
“She’s got a point,” Desjani said. “I just called Dauntless. From where they are in orbit, a shuttle from her will take forty-five minutes to launch and get here. If time is that critical, Admiral, I recommend that we accept the ride offered by our host. You and I are pretty good at fighting in space, but I for one don’t want to face assassins on the ground.”
“All right,” Geary relented. He knew that Tanya had good instincts in such matters, so if she was willing to trust Lady Vitali, that counted for a great deal.
Lady Vitali’s somber expression was softened by a smile as she looked as Desjani. “I envy you the command of such a craft as that battle cruiser of yours, Captain.”
“From what I see at the moment,” Tanya replied as she threw their spare clothes and other possessions back into their travel bags, “you might have qualified to command one.”
“That’s the first diplomatic thing you’ve said tonight. I knew you could do it.”
Geary broke in sharply. “Whose assassins are these?”
“I have little idea,” Lady Vitali said. “My sources, which I assure you are very capable, haven’t been able to discover the origin of the money behind this. But I can tell you this much, Admiral. The money does not come from any place on which the light of Sol shines.”
“Those Shield of Sol people from the outer stars?” Desjani asked.
“Possibly. The ones who escaped being killed by you didn’t know why their late and unlamented senior officer was so keen on attacking your ship, and we can’t ask that senior officer because, unfortunately, the technology available to us is not capable of reconstituting bodies and brains that have been blasted into their component atoms. You might be a little less thorough in your destruction of your opponents next time, Captain.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Desjani hefted her bag and held Geary’s out to him.
He took the bag, then studied Lady Vitali. “How did you manage to get things done so quickly tonight despite the bureaucracy and red tape you spoke of earlier?”
Lady Vitali’s broad smile was back. “You would be amazed what can be done with the right combination of ingenuity, threats, and promises, Admiral. Or maybe you wouldn’t be surprised if half of what we’ve heard of you is true. If I discover anything about the source of this threat to you, I will send it on, though it may take a long while to reach you given the distance involved and lack of routine traffic between our home and yours.”
“Understood. Thank you. We’re in your debt.”
“Oh, nonsense. If you believe that you owe me anything, then if I ever reach your neighborhood, point me in the direction of the best beer.”
As they reached a side door of the castle, moving in silence through narrow stone corridors with just a dim light held by Lady Vitali, Geary wondered how many times others had fled this castle in centuries past, their flight perhaps illuminated by torches rather than modern lights, horses rather than a shuttle their method of escape. For a moment he felt displaced in time, so that he would not have been surprised if there had indeed been saddled horses awaiting them beyond the walls of the castle.