Forsaken Skies (43 page)

“We need to start planning the next phase of this war,” he told Maggs. “Derrow—you're a big part of that. We've showed we can beat one of their swarmships but that's not going to be enough. I need ground-based guns. That's the only way we can punch through the fleet and get at the programmer on the big ship.”

“Assuming,” Derrow said, carefully, “there is a programmer there.”

He turned to face her and he could almost feel the anger radiating off his face. He could definitely see her wince. “Let me guess. You've got doubts now, too.”

“Well…not so much doubts, just…Commander,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “You asked me for ideas on how to fight this enemy and I did my best. I think there probably is a programmer somewhere in that fleet, someone who isn't just a drone. But I don't know it for a fact.”

“Nothing in war is ever clear or certain,” he told her. “You go into battle with your best estimate of the enemy. Often you're proven wrong, and then you have to scramble to keep up. Now what about those guns? How fast can you build them?”

“If I have the right people, the right materials—I can put them together pretty fast. Less than a day.”

“Good.”

“Except,” she said, “I've been in touch with my engineers, the ones who ought to be out at the mining concern right now. Most of them are here instead. In that crowd outside. Getting them back to work is going to be a challenge. And when I say I need the right materials—well, I haven't even done an inventory yet, I know what we have in stock, but—”

“We're going to make it happen, damn it,” Lanoe said. He thought about hitting the table again. But no, Derrow was already scared. No point making it worse.

“There is one bright spot in all of this,” she said. She looked over at Maggs. “Everybody's so terrified, when I asked them about the evacuation they didn't hold back.”

“Oh?” Maggs asked. His smile fell right off his face. “Maybe we can discuss that later. It's nothing for the Commander to worry about.”

It took a second for Lanoe to process what they were saying.

He had so much else on his mind. He had very little brainpower left to waste on analyzing what was clearly yet another slimy act on Maggs's part. When he did manage to process the words, it felt like someone had stabbed an icicle into his spine.

“Evacuation,” he said, very carefully.

“Auster—I mean Lieutenant Maggs—has agreed to organize it,” Derrow said. “Obviously the timing is pretty tight but I think the money we've collected should go a long way to speeding the process. Basically every Centrocor employee on the planet has contributed. Maybe we could talk to the elders about that as well, make our offer even more attractive. I know the religious communities don't have much money, but—”

Maggs was out the door like a shot, so fast it slammed shut behind him. Lanoe had to wrestle with the knob to get it open. The bastard had a considerable head start on him.

It didn't matter. There was only one place Maggs could be headed.

Elder McRae turned a corner and just had time to jump back before Lieutenant Maggs bowled her over. He dashed down a corridor and then nearly leapt down a flight of stairs.

A moment later Commander Lanoe came rushing after him. With a pistol in his hand.

“What do you think you're doing?” she demanded, all of her discipline deserting her in the shock of seeing an armed chase in the halls of the Retreat.

“I'll tell you when he's dead,” Lanoe called back, already running past her.

It had been a long time since the elder ran anywhere, but she hurried then, taking the steps as quickly as she dared. Up ahead she could see Lanoe's back receding from her. He was in far better shape than she was, but she had the advantage of having lived long enough on Niraya to have adapted to the low oxygen content of its atmosphere. Soon she was gaining on him, and she could even hear Maggs puffing for breath far below.

The staircase twisted through many floors of the Retreat, headed always downward, toward the central dome. It was the fastest way to ground level, but she had a suspicion that Maggs was headed even lower—to the flare shelter, and the escape tunnel there. Clearly he'd been paying attention when she mentioned it earlier.

She had no idea why Lanoe wanted to kill the Lieutenant, though she imagined there would be a good reason. Ever since Maggs had tried to defraud her back on the Hexus she'd found it extremely difficult to extend compassion or anything like trust in his direction. Even for one as steeped in the faith as she, Maggs was hard to love.

Lanoe had surprised her when he'd given Maggs a second chance, back then. Apparently he did not intend to give the man a third.

She couldn't let Lanoe kill him, though. Not here.

When she had nearly reached the bottom of the stairs, Lanoe only a few steps ahead of her, she heard a scream of pain and knew it had to have come from Maggs. It was followed almost instantly by a clatter of falling metal and a cry of surprise from a more feminine voice. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, where they emptied out into the dome, time seemed to crystallize, instants freezing in place as she took in everything that had happened.

She saw an aspirant down on all fours, a serving tray still rattling on the floor in front of her. Porridge had spilled in a long beige splatter away from the bowls the aspirant had been carrying.

The aspirant looked unhurt. The same could not be said for Lieutenant Maggs.

The man was down on his face, moaning in pain. He turned over on his back and clutched the leg of his suit, then started gasping for breath.

Lanoe had stopped before he'd collided with the aspirant. He stood, filling most of the archway, his pistol already coming up so he could take the fatal shot.

Surprising even herself, Elder McRae grabbed for his arm and yanked it downward. Fire spat from the muzzle and the projectile dug a deep crater into the stone floor of the dome.

The aspirant started to scream. Time sped up again, and the elder felt her heart pounding in her chest.

“Hellfire,” Lanoe said, turning on her. “Why'd you do that? He's up to his old tricks, and—”

“I will not allow you to commit murder here,” the elder told him. “This place is sacred.”

“He's a traitor. He's betrayed me, and your damned planet,” Lanoe insisted. “Again.”

Beyond his shoulder she could just see the aspirant running for safety. Good. She could also see Maggs climbing to his feet. His suit could apparently compensate for whatever injury he'd sustained, though his face was still white with agony.

Lanoe still had his weapon, and she assumed it had more rounds in its magazine. She had to buy the Lieutenant a little time. “You told me, the last time, that you needed him. That there was something like honor in him, something worth cultivating. I wanted him punished. I wanted him to grovel in the dust. You shamed me with your ability to forgive, Commander. You shamed an elder of the Transcendentalist faith. It was when I started to admire you. Will you throw away the respect you've earned?”

“I don't give a tinker's damn about your respect,” Lanoe told her.

His eyes burned with fury. She knew perfectly well that words alone wouldn't calm down a warrior gripped with a murderous rage. Perhaps, though, there was still a chance.

Maggs was on his feet, stumbling around the dome. He looked lost. Her heart sank as she realized that his escape plan had brought him this far only to fail him at the crucial moment. He knew there would be an entrance to the flare shelter somewhere in the dome—but he didn't know where it was.

There was nothing for it. She slipped under Lanoe's arm and interposed herself between the two of them. Then she lifted one hand and pointed at the door Maggs needed so desperately to find.

Lanoe figured out what she was doing, but only half a second after Maggs. The Lieutenant half-limped, half-ran for the door while Lanoe stared down at her—then shoved her aside and resumed his chase.

She hurried after the two of them, through the door and down a short stairwell, the two pilots' boots clanging on the metal risers. At the bottom lay the shelter, a thick-walled room filled with shelves of supplies. The entrance to the escape tunnel lay at the far end, through a low hatch. Maggs moved as quickly as he could in that direction but with an injured leg he was still too slow.

The Commander lifted his arm again, lining up another shot.

“Wait,” Maggs begged, between ragged breaths. “Please.”

“So much for fancy words,” Lanoe said. “End of the road, Maggs.”

“Lanoe,” the Lieutenant gasped. “You don't understand. I have debts—”

“What about the debt you owe to Zhang? Or Valk, for that matter. You fought beside them. That's supposed to be a bond thicker than blood.”

Maggs couldn't seem to frame a reply.

“You've got a Blue Star, you bastard,” Lanoe said. Was he holding his fire because of something that had been said? Or simply so he could pronounce the sentence of death? Elder McRae couldn't tell.

“That's supposed to mean something,” Lanoe went on. “You're a Naval officer with a high decoration. That's supposed to mean you're an honorable man. All you've achieved here—your entire legacy—is to wreck the last illusion I had. Don't bother with begging, Maggs.”

“Commander,” Elder McRae said, her voice sounding terribly high and reedy in her own ears. “Please! If you won't listen to him beg, listen to me.”

Lanoe didn't turn to look at her. He didn't fire, either.

“This is a place of peace. It was consecrated a century ago, in the name of tolerance and compassion. Please. I beg of you, spare his life.”

“We had a chance with four pilots,” Lanoe said. She wasn't sure if he was speaking to her or to Maggs. “Four pilots I could trust. I can't fly with you now, Maggs. I can't fight with you, not knowing I'd always have to watch my back.”

“Some debts have to be paid back,” Maggs said, nearly whispering. Perhaps he meant those to be his last words.

“Commander,” the elder said, “you came here—to Niraya—to save human lives. Not to take them.”

“Is that right?” Lanoe asked.

She didn't know what else to say. She didn't have anything to give him, no ransom to save the Lieutenant's life. She had done all she could.

It turned out, in the end, to be enough.

Lanoe lowered his arm. Shoved his pistol back into its holster.

For the first time she noticed that Maggs had one just like it on his hip. He could have fought back—might even have killed the Commander. He hadn't even tried, though. Did he simply lack courage? Or had something else stayed his hand?

It didn't matter. What did matter was that there would be no bloodshed inside the Retreat, not this day.

The Elder's head spun with relief.

“Go on,” Lanoe said. “Run. And hope I die here, Maggs. Hope I die here so I never bump into you again.”

The Lieutenant did not waste any time clambering through the hatch and down the long, dark tunnel away from the Retreat.

T
he ground control station was crowded with the four of them inside. Zhang sat with Valk and Ehta by the windows while Thom sat on the floor in a corner, working his minder. Typing something very long.

Zhang laughed and put her feet up on the main console. “I never thought I'd be so glad to see the big guy,” she said, raising an imaginary glass in Valk's direction. “He came riding in like the thunder of judgment. You should have seen it, Ehta. No fancy flying or anything—he left that to Maggs—but our boy can shoot.”

“I had a fresh ship and you'd already cut 'em down to size,” Valk insisted. “I just mopped 'em up.”

Zhang shook her head. “Ehta, you remember that patrol we ran out by Tiamat, when we thought the Establishment was finished and then it turned out they had three whole wings of fighters we didn't know about? You remember how Lanoe blasted right down the middle, punching a hole in their formation you could sail a carrier group through?”

“I remember,” Ehta said. She wasn't smiling. “He was untouchable that day. Didn't even maneuver to evade, just cut and cut and kept moving.” She shook her head. “Sorry, Valk, maybe you don't want to talk about that battle.”

Zhang cursed herself silently. “The Establishment fought like feral dogs at Tiamat,” she said, in way of apology.

Valk didn't seem too offended. Not that she could tell—his helmet was opaque even to her cybernetic eyes. “That was one of our last big pushes,” he said. “I was in the hospital that day. I've heard stories, though. It's possible Lanoe won the war for your end that day.”

“Don't let him hear that. His head won't fit in his helmet. The point I'm trying to make—Valk fought just like that, against the swarm. Between the two of them I'm not sure which one I'd less like to face in a dogfight. Glad I don't have to choose.”

“Sounds like you're a damned hero,” Ehta told him. “I wish…well, I wish I could have been there. I owe Lanoe my life. It would have been nice to pay him back. But you know what they say. Wish in one hand and spit in the other, see which fills up first.”

Zhang put her feet back down on the floor. “Ehta—Caroline,” she said. “You'll get your chance. When the enemy shows up in the sky here, ground control's going to make all the difference.”

She couldn't read Ehta's expression, but she figured she knew how the woman felt. To have come all this way only to sit on the ground—it was a pilot's nightmare. She reached for more words of comfort or consolation, but then her minder chimed and she sat up very straight in her chair.

“Something up?” Valk asked.

“Yeah, out at the spaceport,” she said. She hovered her hand over the minder's display and then grunted in surprise at what it told her. She opened a channel to Lanoe's suit right away. “Boss,” she told him, “somebody's messing with one of our spare fighters. Maybe those protestors think they can break in to the Retreat with its PBWs.”

“Negative,” Lanoe said back. He didn't bother to send video, just his voice. “It's Maggs. He's leaving.”

“Leaving? You send him on an errand or something?”

“He's not coming back,” Lanoe said.

Zhang climbed out of the chair and stepped toward the door. “I can intercept,” she said. “You want him back in one piece?”

“Let him go.” Lanoe broke the connection without providing any more information.

She looked up at Valk. “You hear that? You figure…”

“I always did figure,” Valk said.

Ehta looked between the two of them. “I think that conversation was encrypted or something,” she said. “Because I didn't understand a word.” In the corner, Thom looked up from his diary or whatever he was writing.

Zhang shrugged. “He's cut and run. Maggs is ditching us,” she explained.

“Maybe he decided we didn't stand a chance,” Ehta suggested. “Figured he could save his own skin.”

“At the expense of ours,” Valk said. “It took four of us to bring down one swarm. There's at least seven more of them around the queenship.”

“Scuttle that talk,” Zhang said, the kind of thing she would have said back when she was Lanoe's second in command.

Things were different now. Ehta and Valk didn't have to snap to attention every time she stood up. Still.

She wasn't going to sit there and listen to defeatism.

On her minder, she kept an eye on Maggs's fighter, in case Lanoe changed his mind. She watched it all the way until it entered the wormhole throat and disappeared, out of her reach. Lanoe didn't call.

Roan couldn't stay in her tiny room. There was nothing there she wanted to see. She had few personal possessions beyond a couple of changes of clothing and a meditation mat. The faith had taught her not to grow attached to objects, and she'd been devoted to that discipline.

So instead she roamed the hallways of the Retreat like a ghost. When she passed one of her former fellow aspirants, they would turn their faces away. Not shunning her, she thought—they just didn't want to start an awkward conversation that would be sure to embarrass her. They were trying to be compassionate.

It didn't matter. She had her minder in her hands and that was all she could look at.

Seven new messages from Thom.

She hadn't opened any of them. The metadata showed, however, that they were text-only, and the file sizes suggested that he'd written page after page. She couldn't bear to find out what he was trying to tell her.

She knew, eventually, she wouldn't be able to bear not knowing.

Voices came from a room ahead of her, a small conference room where the elders sometimes gathered to discuss the progress of their aspirants. The door was notoriously thin and more than once Roan had eavesdropped on what was said in that room. She recognized the voices as belonging to Engineer Derrow and Commander Lanoe.

“—can't believe he would do this,” Derrow said. She sounded like she'd been crying. “I thought I knew him, I—”

“Engineer,” Lanoe growled, “I need you to focus.”

Roan thought maybe Derrow hadn't heard him. “I didn't expect…I mean, we weren't in love, but…and then, when he started talking about evacuation…”

“Do the math,” Lanoe said. “There are a hundred thousand people on this planet. Even the biggest liners carry fewer than a thousand passengers. You can't have thought he would be able to get that many ships diverted, no matter how much money you scraped together.”

Derrow didn't respond.

“I see,” Lanoe said. “You didn't expect him to save everybody.”

“How dare you?” the engineer shot back. “How dare you judge me? I had my employees to think of.”

“And now I have to think about them,” Lanoe told her. “I have to think of a way to save them. Can we please talk about the guns?”

“Why even bother? You need people to build them, and half my people are down there in the crowd screaming for your blood. The other half think they're going to be evacuated. What am I supposed to tell them?”

“That's your job. I—hold on. I think I heard something.”

Roan gasped as the door swung open and Commander Lanoe stared down at her. He grabbed her by the arm and hauled her into the room.

“This discussion isn't public,” he told her.

She wrestled her arm away from him. “I have a right to know what's going on,” she insisted.

“So you can share it with everybody? Maybe you'd like to broadcast it so the enemy can hear our plans,” Lanoe replied.

She'd seen him angry before. Faced him down. She refused to be cowed now. She started to speak, then stopped when the engineer got out of her chair and headed out of the room.

“Derrow!” Lanoe called, but the woman was gone.

Roan sat down at the conference table, figuring Lanoe would have more harsh words for her. Instead, he just closed the door and took a seat himself. He didn't look at her. Just sighed deeply and rubbed at his eyes. “If there were no civilians in this galaxy,” he said, eventually, “there wouldn't be any wars. Warriors can actually be trusted.”

“You shouldn't be so hard on her,” Roan said.

He laughed. It wasn't a very humorous sound.

“It's hard—losing somebody you care about,” Roan went on. “Even if you just knew them a little while. We're all so scared right now that we cling to each other.”

He lowered his hands and looked at her and she saw how old he was. He'd seen centuries come and go. This was not a man, his look said, who needed a lecture from a twenty-year-old girl.

“You and Thom, huh?” he asked. He didn't leer, at least.

“How did you know?”

“Because it's the oldest, dumbest story in the book.”

Roan looked away from him. “It's over now. I suppose that makes you happy.”

“No,” he told her. “Right now nothing makes me happy.”

She shook her head. “He—told me what he did.” Lanoe would know, of course. He'd know more about it than Roan did. “That he killed his own father.”

“Is that what he said?”

She bit her lip. “He told the truth, didn't he?”

Lanoe sighed again. “I don't have time for this. Get out.”

But suddenly that wasn't an option. Lanoe knew all about it. Lanoe was maybe the only person on the planet who knew the whole story. “No, please—tell me. Tell me what happened.”

He got up from his chair. Maybe, if she wouldn't leave, he intended to.

“Commander,” she said, “I know there's some compassion in you. Please—I have to know.”

Standing near the door he turned to look at her and his shoulders sagged. Perhaps he thought if he answered her question it would get rid of her. “His father had him tailored in a lab. He never had a mother—just an egg donor. Even he doesn't know that fact. He was designed from day one to be a spare body. His father was a powerful man, and rich, too. A planetary governor. You don't have one of those here, but people like that—they get what they want, and the law doesn't matter. When he got sick enough, he was going to have his consciousness downloaded into Thom's brain.”

“Like—like Lieutenant Zhang,” Roan said. “And the woman she switched bodies with.”

“Sure,” Lanoe said, “except that was voluntary. His father wasn't going to give Thom a new body. He was just going to be erased. Deleted.”

Roan felt like the Retreat was shaking in an earthquake. She knew it was just her stomach turning over. “So he was justified in what he did.”

“Justified? Not my department,” Lanoe said. “When Thom found out what was planned for him, he stole a pistol and he shot his father three times in the chest. The first shot was right through the heart. The other two were, I guess, just to make sure. Then Thom got in his racing yacht and he lit out for nowhere. I don't think he had a real plan. When I caught up to him, he tried to kill himself.”

“But you didn't let him.”

“He changed his mind. He wanted to live.”

Roan held tightly to the edge of the table. “You took pity on him. You saved him. You must have thought he was worth something, then.”

Lanoe grunted. “I liked Thom. I didn't like his father. That's all.”

“But—was he right to do what he did? It was him or his father.”

“Sure,” Lanoe said. “Except—why not just run away in the yacht? Why kill the man first?”

“His father would have chased after him, then,” Roan pointed out.

“Look, kid. I don't know what I would have done in his place. I don't want to think about that.”

“Hypothetical questions achieve nothing but to engender fantasies,” Roan said, quoting from one of Elder Ghent's lessons.

“They teach you that here? The elders know a couple of things. Too bad you didn't listen to them more often.”

Roan felt herself blush, felt the heat of her own blood on her face. “Thom and I…We grew very close over the last few days. I've started having feelings for him but—”

“Okay, I'm done,” Lanoe said. “I answered your question. Now get the hell out—I have a war to plan, and it looks like I'm doing it all by myself.”

She knew better than to try his patience further.