Broken Halo (Wayfarers) Page 5

  Elder Morsely gave her a level look. “Admiral Delacourt, while we appreciate your perspective on the matter, the decision has been made. We will notify you if that decision changes in the future.”

  Susan bit back a retort as Elder Miller caught her attention. He smiled gently. “Thank you for your concern, Admiral. We will continue organizing our resources here so that when we do move, our journey will be a rapid one.” The Speaker then turned to the visitors at the far end of the table. “In the meantime, however, we have another issue to address. Mr. Essen, will you present your request to the Council once more?”

  The pale-faced prisoner rose from his seat, and Susan noted that his wrists were bound with manacles that would have kept him from doing anything dangerous. Obviously, Elder Miller and the other members of the Advisors’ Council remembered the mercenaries’ assassination attempt as well. Essen glanced at the other prisoner beside him before he spoke.

  “The former members of the Bennett Securities fleet have seen the error of their ways. We no longer wish to be prisoners or burdens on your refugee fleet. We—” Essen paused, with a nervous glance at Susan. “We wish to join your fleet and give our assistance in whatever way we can.”

  Dead silence followed the words, and Essen sat, his face still pale. Susan let the quiet linger for a few more seconds, and then she snorted. “You have to be joking.” She looked around at the members of the Council. “Surely you aren’t considering this. Not too long ago, these mercenaries were trying to kill you, and now you want to make them part of the fleet?”

  Elder Miller answered, his voice level and reasonable. “They already are a part of our journey, Admiral, whether as prisoners or as fellow travelers. This offer would simply make them more useful in the long run.”

  “At the cost of all the other problems they could cause.” Susan glared at the mercenaries. “What would you have them do, anyway? Because I can guarantee you that the Defense Forces will not accept them serving under arms.”

  Elder Rollins, a normally jovial man, spoke next. “That concern would be understandable, and we have every confidence in the Defense Forces’ ability to provide for our protection, but there must be some other needs that these mercenaries could address. Perhaps they could lend their expertise to repair damage on our ships.”

  Susan let her expression harden. She had given way on many issues, but she had no intention of doing so this time. “No, Elder Rollins. The chance to work on the systems of our ships would provide too many opportunities for sabotage, mutiny, or other security problems. As the commander of your defense fleet, I couldn’t allow these people to create such a high level of risk for those serving with me, or those we protect.”

  “Oh, hell!”

  The curse brought the debate to a sudden halt. Susan looked over and across to find that the second mercenary had risen out of her seat. The woman glared in Susan’s direction, her expression fierce. “You really think we’d be that stupid? What point would there be in trying to kill or cripple any of you now?”

  Susan returned her glare with an icy look. “None of your forces seemed to have any problem doing it before.”

  The woman threw up her hands, expressing her frustration despite her manacles. “Because we were being paid, you idiot. We’re mercenaries! Lecture me all you want about how wrong it was and how sorry I should be, but don’t assume I did it for any other reason than profit.”

  Susan stared at the woman, stunned. The rest of the Council seemed just as taken aback. Elder Ishval was the first to recover, and his voice contained more than a hint of anger. “So you are saying that we should trust you because you tried to murder us for money?”

  With an exaggerated eye roll, the woman nodded. “Yes. Yes, you should. A mercenary is all about self-interest, all the time. And that’s why you can trust me and the rest of us to help you.”

  There was another moment of silence, and then Elder Miller spoke. “Ms. Nakani, perhaps you could clarify your reasoning? I’m sure you must have a better explanation of your reliability than mere selfishness.”

  “Selfishness is the best explanation, Miller.” She seemed unaware of the way the rest of the Advisors stiffened in anger at her neglect of the Speaker’s proper title. “We won’t do anything that would harm our own interests, and right now, you’re the best bet we’ve got.”

  Elder Rollins shook his head. “Speaker, I know we had agreed to give them a fair hearing, but after listening to this sort of argument, I have to admit I doubt the wisdom of this plan. Is it possible that we were hasty in assuming these people could help us?”

  Elder Miller was quiet a moment, and then he turned to Susan. “Admiral, we invited you here for your expert advice. Do you believe they would act against us now?”

  Susan forced herself to consider the possibility. It was an effort to reach back beyond her first instinctive response to the crude woman’s words and draw on her memories of the mercenaries the Directorate typically hired for their own dirty work. She came to a reluctant, distasteful conclusion. “Perhaps not, Speaker.” The Council looked at her with varying expressions of surprise, and she shook her head firmly. “The mercenaries seem to have figured out for themselves what would happen to them if we did not continue to carry them with us. Without the Concord, they would be stranded in this system until their fuel ran out, or until someone found them.”

  Nakani nodded, her expression wry. “And whoever is lurking around in a border system to cross our path isn’t likely to be a virtuous sort. Excluding present company, of course.”

  Elder Morsely grimaced. “They may be hoping for a return to Known Worlds’ space. That would induce them to cripple our ships if we are found by the Directorate.”

  Susan kept her eyes on Nakani, studying her sudden scowl. She smiled as a reason for that sour expression occurred to her. “That would be unlikely to end favorably for them, Elder. The Directorate won’t have any more love for Bennett Securities than it would for us.”

  Nakani’s face twisted into a snarl. “It’s all Bennett’s fault. That bastard burned every bridge we might have had in the Known Worlds, and then he drove us straight into you. If it hadn’t been for him …” Then she shook her head. “The only thing we have waiting for us in the Known Worlds is a firing squad, and that’s if they bother to shoot us before we go out an airlock. Better to stay and help you get to some planet where everyone can go their separate ways.”

  Elder Ishval glanced up at the ceiling. “The Lord can send help from odd places, but I do think that her offer is sincere.” He brought his eyes level with Susan’s again and quirked an eyebrow. “Admiral, do you feel that they can be useful?”

  Grudgingly, Susan nodded. The mercenaries might be a two-edged sword, but she could handle them if she had to. “Perhaps we can trust them that far. If not, we can always shoot them.” Nakani glared at her, but Susan met her stare with a simple raised eyebrow.

  Elder Miller spoke from the head of the table. “Excellent. I had hoped that we could reach an agreement here.” He turned to the two mercenaries. “I hope, as well, that both of you can express our happiness to your fellow mercenaries that you have decided to help us in our journey. That is not the only thing I want you to tell them, however.”

  The Speaker’s face hardened. “We have not yet forgotten the level of treachery we endured at your hands. The chance you’ve been given to redeem yourselves is not one you should take lightly.”

  He paused, and continued in a voice like iron. “I promise you in the name of the Lord that if you do your best, you will have many opportunities and blessings available to you. If you do not—if you in fact take this opportunity as a chance to betray us—you will wish we had simply left you here to die instead.” Susan shifted her gaze from Elder Miller to the two mercenaries. Essen had gone from pale to paper white; Nakani’s expression had become blank and businesslike. The mercenaries nodded, and Elder Miller sat back in his seat.

  With a sigh of what could have been relief, Eld
er Miller turned to Susan and smiled. “Well, Admiral, we appear to have conquered one dilemma today. I hope you are able to put them to work in the best way you see fit.”

  Susan inclined her head. “Yes, Elder Miller.” She turned back to the mercenaries. Nakani was staring at her with dark eyes and a challenging expression. “I will strive to do just that.”

  Gabe looked up as Susan came around the corner and smiled. She didn’t see him at first; her attention was on the report she was holding. He waited until she had nearly passed him before bracing to attention and speaking loudly. “Admiral Delacourt, Captain Miller reporting for duty.”

  Susan jumped slightly, and then turned an exaggerated glare on him. “Captain Miller. How nice to see you. Finally.”

  Gabe winced at the cool reminder of his effort to avoid meeting her before, and then rallied. “I heard about the Council meeting. How did it go?”

  “Now you show an interest? Of course.” The exasperation in Susan’s voice was obvious enough that Gabe didn’t think he was the only source—at least, that was what he hoped. Susan gestured for him to join her. “Come along, then. We might as well talk about this in private.”

  Gabe nodded, and they fell silent as they walked through the corridors of the flagship. Susan had been adamant about the need for restraint in public; she had placed a lot of importance on the impact a public relationship would have on the discipline of the rest of the fleet. He didn’t understand her worries on that front, but the world of military organization was her genius, not his, and he knew better than to ignore her advice on the matter.

  They reached the office and Gabe held the door open for her. Susan gave him a bemused glance and walked past him. Her office was an extension of her personality; spartan, disciplined, clean. The main piece of furniture was the utilitarian desk set into the floor, with a retractable computer terminal. After a long effort, Gabe had managed to persuade her to include a comfortable chair for herself, and a few for any guests she needed to entertain.

  Susan tossed the report she’d been reading onto the desk and fell into her chair with an exhausted sigh. Then she gestured for him to take a seat across from her. “Well, would you like to hear all about the mess your father and his friends are making for me today?”

  Gabe shrugged. “I don’t know. Do I?”

  “A rather good question, Captain Miller.” Susan flicked her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Do you have any pressing need to go on patrol at the moment?”

  Despite himself, Gabe winced. “Point made. I’ll try to be a bit more available in the future.”

  “Good.” Susan seemed to relax a little. She reached out and began to tap a command into her terminal. “With everything that’s been going on, the last thing I need is not to be able to depend on you. Even my own flagship is giving me headaches lately.”

  Curious, Gabe stood and came around the desk to see what she was talking about. The screen on her console was a mess of intersecting lines and glowing labels. He tried to figure out the schematic for a few moments, and then surrendered. “What am I looking at?”

  Delacourt gave him a tolerant look, and then pointed at the display. “This area is a portion of the Concord. Just aft of Frame Sixty, I believe.”

  “Ah, I see.” Gabe still had no idea what she was expecting him to find, but he nodded sagely anyway.

  Susan wasn’t fooled in the least; she gave him a wry smile and shook her head. “Typical rig pilot.” She pointed at the lines. “These are the corridors running through this section, highlighted in green. Yellow marks structural supports, and red marks life support equipment like black water lines and ventilation ducts. Power cables, gravity generators, and those sorts of high-energy machines are in blue.”

  The schematic began to make sense at last, and Gabe frowned as something became clear to him. He pointed at a blank area standing out in the middle of the screen. “So what about this spot? There aren’t any corridors or anything running through there?”

  “Not on the official schematics, I’m afraid.” Susan grimaced. “It looks like the information on what actually is there has been locked under a security seal. More accurately, it’s been expunged from our records. The only clues we have will need to be gathered firsthand, and I doubt that the engineers will appreciate having to go on a mapping expedition of their own ship.”

  Gabe smiled. “Well, you could always go yourself. Didn’t you say you had a tradition of exploring your ship when you were in the Directorate?”

  Susan straightened in her seat, her expression faintly nostalgic. “True. You could find all sorts of …” She trailed off and her eyes narrowed. “Of course, I was a junior officer, Captain Miller. An admiral has quite a bit more responsibility on her shoulders.”

  He allowed his smile to turn into a grin. “All the more reason to take an hour off to explore, right? And it’s not as if anyone will reprimand you if you miss a conference call or two.”

  Her eyes still narrow, Susan studied him with a severe expression. “You’re not a very good influence, Captain. What do you think would happen if I got lost?”

  Gabe laughed. “Don’t worry. I think you’re important enough that they’d send out a search party for you—even if they had to press-gang a few engineers or rig pilots to do it.”

  Another wry expression crossed her face. “I suppose that is true, but—” This time she cut off so abruptly that Gabe looked over in alarm. Susan merely looked thoughtful, but he still had warning bells ringing in his skull as she tapped her chin with one finger. “You know, that would solve things rather tidily.”

  Wary, Gabe stood back from her slightly. “Should I know what you’re talking about this time? Because, Lord help me, I have no idea.”

  Susan laughed, a clear, bright sound that Gabe knew was worth any confusion to hear. “No, I guess I hadn’t mentioned my other large problem. You see, the Council, in its infinite wisdom, has decided to extend mercy to our former mercenary foes.”

  Gabe straightened in surprise. “They’re giving them pardons? They can’t be thinking of sending the mercenaries back to the Known Worlds.”

  “No, even they aren’t that foolish.” Delacourt waved the possibility away. “They are trying to find a place for them within the fleet, though. They want me to come up with some assignment for them so the little mercenaries can prove themselves.” She smiled. “It occurs to me that you had mentioned a possible division of rigs set aside for search and rescue missions. Could these mercenaries perform that duty?”

  “Maybe.” Gabe forced himself to consider the possibility, however distasteful it seemed. “They’d be under strict supervision, right? No weapons on their rigs?” He relaxed when Delacourt nodded. “Good. I guess the Lord may want us to give them another chance. Who knows, maybe they’ll actually do something useful before they backstab us.”

  She snorted. “Allowing them to perform SAR operations will give you thirty-three more rigs to work with, Gabriel. I know they aren’t the best material, but it should shift a lot of the emergency response burdens away from your combat rigs.”

  Gabe mulled over that fact, picturing the difference it would make. He would finally be free of the need to have a portion of his force standing by in case of a collision or some other mundane accident. The pilots would be fresher, able to scramble for combat operations more easily, and less likely to be unavailable for patrols due to SAR preparedness drills. Still, the prospect of having the Bennett Securities pilots back in their rigs irked him. “I don’t know …”

  Susan gave him an uncharacteristically wide grin. “Look at it this way—if the mercenaries begin to take over your SAR duties, you might be able to spend more time looking for your mystical alien friends.”

  Gabriel sighed. Ever since his contact with the unknown enemy rig, he’d had a persistent itch on the back of his neck, as if someone was watching him from around a corner somewhere. The strange, unworldly voice of the other rig’s pilot had made an appearance in his dreams now and again, an
d some of those dreams ended with an explosive flash as the slender rig opened fire. No further sightings of the strange contacts had occurred, but he suspected that the rigs were still out there, dodging RSR patrols and hovering beyond the sensor range of the CTRs. He still didn’t know if he should worry about an attack, but something whispered they would eventually find out soon enough. “Thanks for that. And I’d be a bit more worried about it if I were you, Admiral. Those things had to have come from somewhere.” He gave a crooked smile. “Either that, or your boyfriend is hallucinating.”

  “Well, if he is, I’ll be sure to get him the finest padded cell the Concord has to offer.” Delacourt cuffed him on the shoulder with a chuckle, and he felt his worries lessen.

  Then Gabe heard her console chirp an alert of some sort. “Trouble, Admiral?”

  Susan shook her head. “No. Worse. I’ve got a conference with the Defense Forces ship commanders in about fifteen minutes to discuss supply states and training coordination.”

  Gabe tried hard to repress a chuckle. “Sounds like an interesting way to pass the time, Admiral. I’m sorry you can’t bring me with you.”

  She laughed. It was an unfortunate, malicious sound. “And who says I’m not? The rigs need to know what to work on, don’t they?”

  Gabe glared at her. “You know I’ll get you back for this.”

  Delacourt rolled her eyes. “Right. I’d be worried, but I have my alien allies to protect me.” She pitched her voice as low as she could. “Atanaas?”

  “Oh, now that was a low blow.” Gabe couldn’t help but feel amusement and relief, though. He’d helped her figure out a problem, perhaps, and it sounded as if the situation in the fleet was improving. Despite the looming pain of the staff meeting, Susan’s laughter cheered him.

  It would have been perfect—if only the memory of the strange rigs didn’t bring a chill to his spine.