“I’l kil you, demon.” Mal understood that just fine. “You won’t shoot me.”
“No, but I can do this. ” There were a few thuds and scuffling sounds. “Damn it, somebody give me a hand.”
Vaz crept into the shattered vessel at a crouch with Mal behind him. The interior was completely dark inside except for shafts of watery sunlight from holes Mal had noticed earlier, but that was enough light to see Naomi kneeling on the hinge-head and struggling to hold him down by the scruff of his neck. He was bigger and heavier than Jul, more of a handful. Mal resisted the temptation to put a boot in the thing and just shoved his rifle in its face instead.
“Field Master,” he said, “I’m trying to be polite, but we’re risking our lives to get you out. That means you’re coming with us. Pul back, regroup, and have a nice cup of tea. Okay?”
“I wil decide!” ‘Telcam snarled defiance. “I’ll choose whether I fight or not! I am not your servant!”
“I’ve got my orders,” Mal said. “And right now, you’re getting your arse handed to you out there. Come on.”
Vaz slung his rifle and knelt down to put some restraints on him. “You’l thank us later,” he said. A loud explosion outside shook the whole ship.
“Great, we’re going to get creamed by our own guys.”
“Move it. Get him out.”
Naomi and Vaz hauled ‘Telcam to his feet and bundled him outside to Tart-Cart. Unlike Jul ‘Mdama, he didn’t have to be dragged like a sack of spuds. He’d calm down. He’d see sense when he got to New Llanel i and found he had some ships left and some al ies who were stil prepared to arm him.
Devereaux was almost revving the dropship’s drive as ‘Telcam squeezed into the crew bay, head lowered to avoid the trunking. He was even tal er than Naomi.
“Got to go,” Devereaux said. “The trouble with Infinity not knowing exactly where we are is that she’s going to end up hitting us if we don’t get clear.”
‘Telcam sat on the edge of the seat like a grown-up trying to look relaxed at a kid’s tea party, head thrust forward. Naomi took off her helmet and glowered at him. She seemed to want to show hinge-heads that they’d been knocked down by a woman, because she’d done the same with Jul, and she tended to live in that helmet. But ‘Telcam didn’t react. Mal took off his own helmet and raked his fingers through his hair, noting that it needed cutting, and watched ‘Telcam turn his attention to Phil ips. The armor and plasma pistol definitely troubled him.
Yeah, that was going to be an interesting conversation at some point.
“Okay, boys and girls, we’re off the charts now,” Devereaux said. “Including Infinity’s. Next stop, the lovely glasslands of New Llanel i.”
“Dev, how close did we come to getting char-gril ed by Del Rio?” Mal asked.
“Very.”
That, Mal decided, would be his personal limit. He hadn’t reached it yet and he hadn’t even realized it existed, but if bailing out these hinge- heads cost one human life, then he was asking for a transfer. There were some prices he’d never be wil ing to pay, not for ONI, and not even for Osman.
In the end, he’d rather have done business with a dozen Staffan Sentzkes than one ‘Telcam. Maybe Vaz had a point after al .
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I HAVE GIVEN MY WORD TO THE ARBITER, AND WHILE IT MIGHT NOT BE FASHIONABLE TO BELIEVE THAT STILL HAS SOME MEANING, I SHALL KEEP IT UNTIL HE NO LONGER HONORS HIS.
(ADMIRAL LORD TERRENCE HOOD, CINCFLEET)
UNSC PORT STANLEY, SOMEWHERE OFF SANGHELIOS
Sanghelios was becoming familiar in the same way as the moon over Sydney.
There was the coast that looked like a jigsaw-puzzle piece that would fit neatly into the Bay of Biscay; there was the huge inland sea shaped like a bow tie. On the night side of the planet, city-states were picked out in points of light. Osman stood at Stanley’s ful -length bridge viewscreen with her arms folded and wondered what her first impressions of the planet would have been if she’d discovered it yesterday rather than years ago as a war out of the blue.
It did a good impression of looking normal and harmless. She hadn’t ruled out visiting it again. While she watched, the reflection of a holographic blue box drifted by and hovered beside her.
“Are you sure Infinity can’t track us, BB?”
“You real y don’t trust Huragok now, do you?”
“I think the analogy of a hyper-intel igent toddler who’s into everything fits them pretty wel . Just tel me.”
“No, Captain, they haven’t touched the stealth system. They understand why we have to be able to go dark.”
Because we do all the mucky, dishonorable stuff that the Navy prefers to believe never happens.
It was basic security. Stealth vessels had to be able to hide even from their own fleet so that they couldn’t be tracked down if another ship fel into enemy hands. But she knew it was also handy for Fleet to be able to deny al knowledge of ONI activity.
“‘Telcam’s on his way to New Llanel i now, and Phil ips is trying to be sociable with him,” BB said. Osman had learned to deal with the concept of AI omnipresence by thinking of them as gossiping on a mass of ever-open comm channels. “It’s bit of a stretch for Tart-Cart. But she’l make it.
She’s got a slipspace drive now.”
“Is Devereaux actual y rated to fly that?”
“She’s got me, Captain.”
“I know, I know.”
“And who’s going to argue about it? We’re ONI.”
“But dropships with slip drives…”
“Yes, it’s the work of Beelzebub. Isn’t it fabulous? Let’s order another one.”
BB was right. There was nothing to worry about. What was the point of having Huragok if you couldn’t let them do wildly indulgent but very useful things like beef up an already heavily modified Pelican? There were no rules now.
And if there are … I’ll be the one writing them.
Osman thought that not with satisfaction but with growing unease. She stood utterly alone in the corvette. Even BB, friend and bodyguard and lieutenant that he was, didn’t quite count right then. Sometimes life could be heavy-handed with its metaphors, as if she hadn’t been listening when it kept warning her that the higher she climbed, the more isolated she’d become, until she’d find herself with no hands left above her to reach out to.
This is what being CINCONI is going to feel like. No safety net. No supervision. Nobody to tell me how to do it.
It wasn’t like command of a ship at al . There were no charts and no regulations. This mission was her test, her coming of age, and Parangosky knew it. The admiral could never have engineered this situation, but she’d certainly given Osman the leeway within it to sink or swim.
But that’s what it’s about. Earth has to be able to count on me long after Parangosky’s gone.
As soon as the thought formed, Osman didn’t like the sound of it.
“Ships, BB,” she said. “Show me. Where are they?”
“Voilà.” BB flashed the chart of Sanghelios’s northern hemisphere on the viewscreen in front of her. Adj and Leaks had made a few more refinements. “We have four frigates … Promised Redemption, Cleansing Truth, Certain Prophecy, and Transforming Splendor. I do wish they’d learn to use proper ships’ names like Victory and Bellepheron, don’t you? Theirs sound like color swatches from an ecclesiastical paint catalog.
Anyway, they’re getting ready to withdraw.”
“And what’s Infinity up to now? She must be able to track those frigates too.”
Another image appeared on the viewscreen—a wide shot of the ship’s bridge. It didn’t add any information that BB couldn’t have given her but it was interesting, and she had a better idea of the prevailing mood over there.
“Unfortunately, yes. So Hood’s sharing that data with the Arbiter.”
“But he’s not planning to pursue them himself.”
“No, he’s just sharing intel igence. Want to hear the Arbiter’s side of it?”
“Just give me the digest.”
“The Arbiter’s waiting to send three of his cruisers after them. He’s planning to intercept when they’re clear of the planet and before they jump, to minimize damage on the ground.”
“He’s going soft.”
“He’s political. He doesn’t want to alienate any states that haven’t taken sides yet.”
“There you go. Ruining my il usions.” Osman watched the activity on Infinity’s bridge for a few more moments, checking that Parangosky was okay—drinking coffee, so yes—and wondering if she could ever look Hood in the eye again. He’d been so generous to her: he was a decent man, a naval officer of the old school. Perhaps he knew what she’d become anyway. “Okay, stand by. The Arbiter’s going to lose three cruisers today.”
She settled in her chair and dug her fingers into the armrests. It was a habit now. She realized how physical y literal she’d become: she stood alone, and she got a grip. There were probably a dozen little mechanical actions in her day that told the truth in a way she felt she couldn’t.
“You’re not comfortable about this, are you?” BB said.
“I wouldn’t say I wasn’t comfortable. ” Osman had four Shivas and two bays of enhanced yield Rudra nukes, enough to do the job. “I’ve just never fired on a ship that wasn’t planning to attack me. And I suppose this puts the seal on it. Undermining Fleet feels like internal politics until you shoot down an al y they’ve worked hard to get a treaty with. It’s al little too real.”
BB drifted in close and settled on the console in front of her. He had human body language down to a T, a remarkable thing considering that the most un-boxlike form he’d taken had just been to add a shiny red bow to mark Parangosky’s birthday. She did what she always did: she looked him in the eye, the front face of the cube.
“Captain, you don’t have to succeed the Admiral, but if you do, then this is the way it’s always going to be.” He’d lost that casual, arch superiority that was so endearing. Now he was serious: paternal, even, a side she hadn’t seen before. “Vaporizing three Elite warships is nothing compared to the things you’re going to have to sanction in the future. Consider this your actual initiation. Not contrived to happen, but an inevitable transition, and I think you’d never ask any crew to do what you wouldn’t do yourself.”
She wasn’t fol owing orders. She was giving them. I’m a captain. How did I make captain and not think this through? There was no rule book she could reach for, no higher authority, because UNSC was that authority, not the civilian government, so the only answers would come from her own conscience.
“In twenty years, I might be standing on a glassed planet again, saying that I wished I’d done something when I had the chance.”
“I could make the decision for you.”
“No.”
“Thought as much.”
This was what friends did. They let you talk your way through a dilemma. “Okay, BB, take us into position. I want al of the Arbiter’s cruisers on this plot so that when ‘Telcam’s flotil a makes its move, I can start taking them out.”
“What if he deploys al five?”
“I have to leave him at least two hul s to keep things balanced. If he manages to block any of ‘Telcam’s frigates, I’m going to need a nondestructive solution.”
“Winging the bad guy in the shoulder only works in the movies.”
“Okay, then we risk warning the frigates so they can take evasive action.”
“I do an awful y good Kig-Yar accent. Seeing as I’m going to spoof Aine’s sensors into believing a big Kig-Yar did it and ran away, I might as wel stay in character.” BB seemed to feel his pep talk had hit the spot. He’d put up that barrier of slick cynicism again. “Covering up distinctive energy signatures from the detonations is going to be tricky, but perhaps I should just brazen it out and let everyone think the Jackal lads have acquired some UNSC hardware. They probably have, and it’d give the Sangheili one more faction to get mistrustful and paranoid about, too.”
“How are you going to explain why Infinity can’t hit us if she tries? Hood knows she can’t miss. If he targets our spoof signal and there’s no explosion, he’l know something’s wrong.”
“I have a secret weapon. The Mark One Parangosky. She’l intervene.”
“I think you should be CINCONI.”
BB suddenly turned navy blue and sported a rear admiral’s gold braid like a belt. He twirled. “No … horizontal stripes make me look fat,” he said.
“Besides, I’d have to behave.”
He’d made his joke and now he expected her to crack on with what had to be done. She obliged. ‘Telcam’s frigates showed up as smal red dots assembled north of Ontom. The Arbiter’s cruisers, now shown as green dots, were scattered over a wider arc, and that would make it harder to cover them: but it would also make it easier for her to avoid being identified. She’d need to talk to ‘Telcam and get him to corral his shipmasters.
“Can you get me Tart-Cart?”
“Anytime, anywhere,” BB said. “She’s got the ful Infinity comms package now. Wait one.”
Osman hoped ‘Telcam had calmed down by now. It couldn’t have been easy to have lurched between defeat and victory and then suffer the indignity of being rescued.
She only had to wait a few seconds before Mal responded. The image from Tart-Cart made it look as if things were under control, although she couldn’t see the aft section from the camera position. “How are we doing, Staff?”