The Starseeker was still falling back toward the shark. Falling through the vulture shield… and all at once, the ship seemed to expand and vanish. Its attention no longer divided, the shark began accelerating again; and at an unheard-of ten gees set off in pursuit of the Jnana. “Handler reports Sleipnir in position, Captain,”
Kennedy said, her voice sounding distant in his ears.
“Set torpedo for five-second detonation.” Roman took a deep breath. To run away now… but there was absolutely nothing they could do. “Jump.”
The NCL 66802 system was just under two light-years away; two and a half days by Mitsuushi. Its collective fingers crossed, Amity settled down to wait.
Ten days later, neither the Jnana nor the Atlantis had joined them.
Chapter 24
“As executive officer,” Ferrol said, working hard to keep his voice calm and formal, “one of my jobs is to inform the captain whenever I believe his course of action to be ill-advised or detrimental to the ship, the crew, or the best interests of the Cordonale. Therefore—”
“You’d like to know why we’re still sitting out here?” Roman interrupted mildly.
“Waiting for a task force that’s ten days overdue on a two-day trip?”
Ferrol clenched his teeth. “Yes, sir, I do,” he said firmly. The captain had evaded this meeting for two whole days now, and Ferrol was damned if Roman was going to undercut his arguments with that agreeable/civilized act of his. “Particularly when our delay prevents the Starforce from receiving information vital to the security of the Cordonale. Standing orders on that—”
“I take it, then, that you don’t think there could still be survivors?”
Ferrol locked eyes with him. “Do you?” he asked bluntly.
Roman’s expression didn’t change. “There’s always a chance,” he pointed out calmly. “A damaged ship able to make a short Mitsuushi hop could be a few lighthours out from 9862 making repairs. How could we go off and abandon them?”
“We could send a ship back to wait for them,” Ferrol told him. “Or drop our report and records at Solomon and then come back ourselves.”
Roman’s eyebrows went up. “And how would we do that? As soon as we reach the Cordonale, Rrin-saa and the Tampies will be taking Sleipnir back home.”
Ferrol snorted. “And that’s what this is really all about, isn’t it? You’re mad at the Starforce for their little verbal sleight of hand; and in return you’re going to make them sweat a little.”
Roman regarded him thoughtfully. “Tell me something, Commander. Back in the
9862 system, just before the second shark appeared, you said the Tampies’ anger over being lied to was nothing more than emotional manipulation. Do you really believe that?”
Ferrol glared; but the reflexive answer caught in his throat. He had believed it at the time, certainly—it fit all too well with the standard Tampy pattern of shifting blame and guilt wherever possible. But now, with ten days of extra reflection behind him, the whole situation had muddied considerably. It still seemed slightly incredible to him that the Admiralty might have deliberately set up their shark hunt in such a way as to bring Amity down along the way… and yet, he couldn’t shake from his mind that final, self-satisfied expression on the Senator’s face. The expression, and the veiled warning that the Amity project would soon be ending…
And as matters stood now, the Senate could lay the blame for Amity’s cancellation squarely on the Tampies’ shoulders. And most of the Cordonale would buy it.
“I think there was manipulation going on somewhere,” he conceded reluctantly.
“I’m not sure anymore which end of it the Tampies were on.”
He braced himself for the inevitable sly smile or lift of eyebrows; to his intense relief Roman passed up the obvious comments on Ferrol’s change of attitude. “All right,” the captain said instead. “Let’s assume, then, at least for the moment, that Rrin-saa’s reaction was a true indication of how deeply he and the other Tampies felt about being along on the shark hunt. We already know how strongly they feel these things—their giving up of Quentin showed that much.”
Or else, Ferrol thought sourly, it showed they’d realized such a deep and early trauma would make the calf useless, anyway. “Fine,” he said aloud. “Let’s assume that. So what’s your point?”
Roman’s face remained calm… but abruptly Ferrol noticed the hardness lying beneath the surface. “My point,” the captain said quietly, “is that all of that was on the record, accessible to anyone who wanted to scuttle Amity. I think the verbal sleight of hand, as you put it, was done deliberately, and for that purpose.”
Ferrol took a careful breath. “There is, of course, no way to prove it.”
“I know. I was thinking more along the lines of offering the Tampies some sort of compensation.”
Ferrol blinked. It wasn’t what he’d been expecting. “What sort of compensation?”
Roman shrugged, deliberately casual. “You’ve lived with them for the past year.
What could we on the Amity offer that they might be willing to accept?”
Ferrol frowned at him… and then he got it. “You mean a calf?”
“It would seem a suitable parting gift,” Roman said. “Wouldn’t you say?”
Abruptly, Ferrol realized his mouth was hanging open. “Are you suggesting,” he asked carefully, “that we just sit out here—in the middle of nowhere—until Sleipnir is ready to have its damn calf?”
Roman smiled faintly. “Why do you think that after putting you off for two days I agreed to see you now?”
“Because you didn’t—” Ferrol broke off, feeling his mouth fall open again. “You mean… now?”
Roman nodded. “All the indications are there,” he said. “Rrin-saa tells me a Jump in about an hour will be just about optimum.”
Ferrol’s eyes drifted to the port, and the unfamiliar star patterns beyond. “We’re not going to do it here, then?”
“I thought we’d go ahead and Jump to Solomon first. That way the Tampies can take both Sleipnir and the new calf home with them immediately.”
Ferrol nodded. The stars—the unfamiliar, distant stars—seemed to blur, and he could feel a lump form in his throat. So it was over. The Tampies had pulled the plug on Amity, and Roman was going to roll over for them… and if the Senator’s reading of the aliens was right, space would soon belong to the Cordonale again.
And for want of a little daring, humanity would quietly settle for a draw.
For want of a little daring… “With the captain’s permission,” he said between stiff lips, “I’d like to request the web boat duty.”
Roman cocked his head, and Ferrol held his breath. “Very well, Commander,”
Roman nodded. “You’d best get below, then, and start assembling your team.” He paused, his eyes boring into Ferrol’s. “Remember that it’ll be Amity’s last calving,”
he added quietly. “Make it a memorable one.”
A lump rose into Ferrol’s throat. “Don’t worry, sir. I will.”
“Rein lines secure,” Yamoto reported from the seat beside him, her voice sounding hollow behind her filter mask. “Calf’s starting to pull away.”
Ferrol nodded, feeling a tightness in his chest as he turned his head to look at the three Tampies sitting silently behind Yamoto. “Wwis-khaa?—We have control yet?”
“He is calming,” the Tampy said, sounding vaguely distracted. Three of the lights on the amplifier helmet, Ferrol noted, were still red. “It will be soon.”
“Good.” Ferrol turned toward the mike. “Lander to Amity,” he called. “Calf is secured; full control soon. Any problems with Sleipnir?”
“None at all,” Roman told him. “Sso-ngu reports no stress or trauma. Any trouble at your end?”
“Not so far,” Ferrol said, striving to sound casual. “At least nothing that Wwiskhaa will admit to. Looks like we aren’t going to need extra help in the Handler department, after all.”
“Murphy’s Law,” Roman said dryly. “Still, better to err on the side of caution than the other direction.”
“Certainly after what happened with Quentin,” Ferrol agreed, ears straining to pick up every nuance. But if the captain suspected Ferrol had had other reasons for bringing three Handlers along, it didn’t show in his voice. “Have you decided on a name for the calf yet, sir? Or aren’t we going to bother, given that the Tampies will be taking it straight home?”