Ruler of Naught (42 page)

Brandon looked from one to the next. “Back at Granny Chang’s
you said something about energy weapons on Rifthaven.”

“Yup,” said Marim. “One law on Rifthaven nobody crosses—no
matter what,” Marim said. “You can carry a firejac, but if you use it, you win
a one-way trip out the nearest lock. Neurojacs are legal but they make people
rasty when they jam everyone’s boz’l for ten meters around, and people have
been spaced for less.”

Brandon nodded slowly. “I see the reason for the law here—one
puncture and half this place would vent to space. But I thought there was no
law enforcement of any kind on Rifthaven.”

“Depends on where you are. Some of the mercantile pods are
as safe as anyplace in the Panarchy, patrolled regularly by enforcers hired
from Public Order. Crime’s bad for business.” Montrose said. “Others—” He
shrugged.

“But anywhere, someone tabs their energy weapon and everybody
around will help execute the rule,” Marim put in. “Some people wear their
hardware anyway, but I don’t carry anything I can’t use.”

A gentle thud resonated through the ship and Vi’ya pulled
her hands away from her console. “We’re in.”

The engines spun down into silence.

Lokri got up and said. “Arkad, you ever seen Rifthaven?”

Vi’ya said coolly, “As we discussed, he will not this time.”
She started shutting down systems, adding, “The Eya’a will guard the
Panarchists.”

Lokri got to his feet. “I think I could keep one renegade
Arkad safe from the bites and the gouges.” He leaned one arm against the wall,
looking down at Vi’ya with an expression difficult to interpret. His voice was
exactly as lazy and pleasant as always, but Marim felt the prickling of danger
and again smothered the urge to snicker. “A last gift.”

Vi’ya said simply, “No.”

Lokri was silent for a protracted moment, then he
straightened up and shrugged, giving Brandon a humorous look. “Have fun with
the vidchips.”

Omilov started asking questions about docking rules, and
Marim went out to the weapons locker. There, she found what she’d half expected:
Vi’ya had locked down all of the weapons except those belonging to crewmembers.

I guess this is the end, then,
Marim thought.
She really
does expect us to vanish.

Marim grabbed what she needed and skipped back to the
bridge. There she handed out the armload of weaponry, noticing the nicks
looking at the huge, ornately decorated and brightly colored projectile weapon
thrust through her belt.

“What’s that?” Brandon asked, pointing. “Looks vicious.”

“It’s supposed to,” Marim said. “It won’t kill anybody, but
you’ll wish you were dead if one of the stench capsules bursts on you. Not many
argue with the prospect of twelve hours of retching.”

Lokri saluted them silently with his knife and sauntered
out, adjusting the wrist sheath under his loose sleeve. He’d secreted the tiny
neurojac in a boot.

Jaim said to Vi’ya, “I will return at seventeen hundred to
oversee the work on the engines.”

Montrose said, “Come along, Firehead. Let’s get you along to
al-Ibran’s Chirurgicon.”

Ivard wandered to the hatch, and peered down the corridor
toward the dispensary. “Trev, Gray! You want to come with me? Montrose, I want
Trev and Gray there. And you know, they can make sure Gray healed up.”

“Gray is as healed as he needs to be. Ivard, the dogs are
too recognizable. We don’t want anyone asking questions, so they must stay
here. They will be comfortable until you get this thing off you.” He touched
the Kelly band on Ivard’s wrist.

Ivard turned fever-bright eyes to Marim. She kissed the air
near his head. “See you later,” she said, as Montrose led him down the ramp.
In
another lifetime.
She resisted the impulse to grab her carryall, where she
kept the treasures she’d snagged from Ivard. With them, she wouldn’t need her ship
shares, if worse came to worse.

Ivard had never noticed. It was all right where it was,
until she found another berth.

Vi’ya said to Omilov, “The three of you must stay in the
dispensary until Montrose returns. Then your movements will be restricted to
your cabins and the galley. Use whatever you wish from the library for entertainment.”

“Thank you,” Omilov said.

Marim stole a look at the Arkad, wishing there’d been the
chance to win her bet. But no bet was worth the risk of coming between Lokri
and Vi’ya, oh no, no, no
.

Marim glanced at Osri, and sighed. No chance left at the
coin from Lost Earth, either.

Well, Ivard had brought her more than enough loot, and
Sanctus Hicura knew, she’d paid him enough for it.

The bridge of the
Grozniy
was quiet, a subdued murmur
of status reports the only sound. From under one console a pair of legs
protruded. There was a flare of light and a muffled curse, then sudden silence
as, Ng guessed, the technician recollected where she was. Ng repressed an
impulse to laugh. She’d made some adjustments, but it seemed her new alpha crew
was adapting well to wartime status.

The more things change—

The Siglnt console bleeped. At the same moment the fiveskip
blipped. “Emergence pulse, ID working.” Ensign Wychyrski’s singsong was smooth,
but in a higher range, betraying excitement. “ID Courier Two.” A few seconds
later the courier’s laser found the
Grozniy
.

“Uplink established,” reported Ammant at Communications.

Wychyrski maintained the antiphon in the familiar measured
rhythm. “Squadron 235 located,
Falcomare
on the way, ETA—“

Both her console and the fiveskip interrupted her.
“Emergence pulse, ID working...
Falcomare
.”

Again a slight delay, then Ensign Ammant reported. “Com
incoming. Captain Metellus Hayashi.”

“Put him on-screen.”

Ng relaxed as a window blossomed on the main screen,
revealing the broad face of Metellus Hayashi. His grin below the hawk-nose was
piratical, his cheekbones like blades.

“Captain Ng! Welcome to Poseidonis system.”

“Thank you, Captain Hayashi. That was quick.”

“
Hainu
Squadron’s been waiting for the Blister
Patrol, although I hardly expected
Grozniy
to be it.”

Ng burst out laughing, easing some of the tension of the
past days.
How I’ve missed you, beloved!

“Showing up after the work is done,” she said, aware of the
stares of her crew.
So he’s had his own encounter with Rifters
. Behind
her the aft hatch hissed open. “How I wish it were so, Captain,” she continued,
suddenly serious. “But I believe our work is just beginning.”

His smile hardened, and he nodded once. “Poseidonis Node was
really happy to see us, given the initial rumors and reports incoming on the
DataNet.” He paused—
his boswell
, Ng thought.
Report on our damage?

“Then the Rifters—storming into the inner system with a
single ancient Alpha like they’d never heard of the Navy.”

“Any casualties?” asked Ng, as Commander Krajno slipped into
his pod next to Rom-Sanchez.

Hayashi snorted. “Against Rifters?” Then he stopped and
looked directly out of the screen at her, his eyes narrowing.
He did get our
damage stats.
“That wasn’t a joke, was it?”

If he intercepted the Rifters before they reached the
planet and fired on the Shield, he may not know about their cruiser-killing
skipmissiles
. If this contingent had even had them.

Before she could reply he straightened up in his pod and
spoke formally. “Request permission to come on board, Captain.”

“Please,” she replied. “We have much to discuss.”

o0o

Metellus Hayashi strode to the wall with his hands clasped
behind his back, then turned around. “This is making my head reel. Do you
realize, we’re sitting here talking about an attack on Arthelion?”

“I know,” Ng replied. “I keep expecting lightning to come
out of a bulkhead or something.” She had shifted in her chair so she could
watch Hayashi’s peregrinations.

Lieutenant Rom-Sanchez watched the interplay between the
heavily muscled destroyer captain and Margot Ng, struggling with the sourness
in his stomach.
This is stupid, Sergei
, he told himself.
Did you
really think you could have gotten anywhere?
He struggled to squash the
profound weight of regret.

“We can start the preliminary planning at tomorrow’s meeting
once Doial and Galt get here,” continued Ng, naming the other two destroyer
captains in Hayashi’s squadron. “I want to have a general tactical and
strategic structure ready for whatever forces we can find.”

Then his captain’s eyes turned to him, and Rom-Sanchez fought
back a flush of embarrassment. Had she noticed anything? But Ng’s manner was
easy as she spoke: “Lieutenant Commander, what can you get me?”

“We’ve already dispatched courier flights that give us a
good chance of bringing the
Joyeaux
and the
Babur Khan
to a
rendezvous at Arthelion in the time you’ve allotted,” he replied. “But neither
Lieutenant Commander Nilotis nor I expect to discover any more, whether at the
systems between here and Arthelion or from the intel couriers. The intelligence
we got at Treymontaigne, fragmentary as it was, makes it certain that any ships
inwards from here will already know about the attack, anyway. They’ll either
have been destroyed, are on their way to or already at Arthelion, or will have
hit a tacponder with new orders from Ares.

“As may we,” said Ng. “Has SigInt come up with any more data
on Naval losses nearer the Mandala?”

“No, sir.” He tapped his compad, windowing up a list of
names on a wall display. “These are the ships unaccounted for that might
already be at Arthelion, given their last known assignments.”

Hayashi’s mouth tightened as he waved a hand dismissively at
the screen. “We can cross
Flammarion
off that list,” he said. “At least
we won’t have Armenhaut to deal with.”

“I put him down long ago,” said Ng with a faint smile. “Are
you still carrying him?"

Rom-Sanchez puzzled at the cryptic comment for a moment. He
knew that Stygrid Armenhaut, one of Semion’s Downsider captains, had been
stationed at Arthelion and was therefore certainly dead. But the look that
passed between the two captains made it obvious that the exchange was freighted
with many years of shared experience. He fought another surge of jealousy.

Ng’s eyes were on him again. “Lieutenant Commander, I’d like
you to consult with the three tactical heads in Captain Hayashi’s squadron to
arrange training sessions for the new Tenno.”

Rom-Sanchez heard the dismissal in her voice and stood,
gathering up his papers. “AyKay, sir.”

As he tabbed the hatch open on his way out, Ng turned back
to Metellus Hayashi.

“And I request the pleasure of your company at dinner
tonight, Metellus, twenty-one-hundred... ”

The hatch hissed shut across the remainder of her words, and
Rom-Sanchez clenched his teeth against expressing the mix of frustration and
amusement at his captain’s subtlety.
She saw, all right. She knew—and she
let me down easy
. Then he shrugged and walked away.

He had work to do—and then he needed a drink.

o0o

Margot Ng woke up first, and rejoiced.

Metellus lay asleep beside her, his breathing deep and slow.

She lifted her head so she could memorize the contours of
his face, noting new lines, new gray in his temples. The signs of age made him
that much dearer, and she fought the overwhelming urge to kiss him awake again.

How long had it been? Almost two years? It had been pure
luck that had placed them on maneuvers in the same system then, giving them a
chance to grab thirty-six hours together.

Sleep, my love,
she thought.
Telos knows how much
rest we’ll get when we reach Arthelion.
A darker thought—of the sleep
eternal—shadowed her thoughts, but she dismissed it. It was the risk they lived
with in the life they’d chosen.

But the thought didn’t stay banished, for her hand reached
convulsively to touch his bare chest above the sheet, to feel the warmth of his
flesh and the steady lump-lump of his heart beneath the smooth muscles.

His eyes opened, instantly alert. The lines at the corners
of his mouth deepened. “What’s this? Want more? You’d think we haven’t had any
for two years.”

Laughter and tears both tried to claim her—the lingering
effects of the Augment session, her mind insisted—and Hayashi reached for her.

“What?”

She buried her face in the hollow of his throat, and then
trailed her fingers down and down through the soft curls of hair on his chest.
He stroked her back gently, saying nothing further.

After a time she rolled over and sat up facing him, clasping
her hands around her knees. Hayashi propped himself up on an elbow and returned
her gaze. “You’re wondering about what we’ll find at Arthelion,” he said.

“Yes. Or maybe no. I don’t have high hopes.” She hesitated.
“I was unfair to you earlier, love. I’m still carrying Armenhaut, too. Not so
much the man as the type, the politically-connected officers thick inwards in
the Tetrad Centrum, who never learned the difference between a sim and real
action. It must have made the Rifters’ job a lot easier.”

The corners of his mouth deepened. “No doubt. Armenhaut’s
tailor wouldn’t have been much help fighting the ship.” He mimed an officer
admiring the cut of his sleeve with a lazy motion of one powerful arm.

Ng chuckled, her mood lifting. “You shouldn’t have laughed
in his face.”

“I didn’t laugh. Maybe a little snort. But Margot, you
better than most know how he weighted fitreps.”

“Presentation.”

“You know what that meant. He basically awarded promotion
based on an officer’s wardrobe.”