Scattered Suns (59 page)

Chapter 127—PATRICK FITZPATRICK III

When the cargo escort landed aboard his grandmother’s old-model Manta, Patrick Fitzpatrick was greeted with a hero’s welcome. For so many months, the Hansa had thought he and his fellow prisoners were dead.

Wearing a hard expression, he pushed past the cheering guards and landing crew. He had a crisis to handle. “I need to see my grandmother before this gets any worse.”

On the Manta’s bridge, the old captain and Maureen Fitzpatrick were arguing with a weary-looking Del Kellum, whose image filled the viewscreen. “Thanks, but no thanks,” Kellum said. “By now we don’t need your damned help. Everything’s wrecked! You sat around with your thumbs up your asses while my crews fought the Soldier compies. We’ve already isolated our personnel, destroyed the majority of the crazy compies—and
now
you want to barge in and take credit for it? Shizz, I can’t believe your arrogance.”

Maureen stood firm, her expression icy; Fitzpatrick could see where she’d gotten the nickname of Dame Battleaxe. “You have grossly misinterpreted the situation, Mr. Kellum. We did not come here on a rescue mission. Your personnel have been declared outlaws and your property is subject to immediate seizure. We will detain your people and take them to a Hansa holding facility.”

“The hell you will. Why don’t you change the Eddy motto to 'Too little, too late'? Or how about 'Always ready to shoot at the wrong target—and still miss'?” Staring at them on the screen, Kellum saw Fitzpatrick step onto the bridge even before his grandmother noticed him. “By damn, I see you’ve got one of your survivors back. I don’t suppose you could arrange to return the cargo escort that he stole from us?”

Maureen’s eyes lit up with delight. “Patrick!” He had never seen so much genuine joy on the old woman’s face; it made him wonder if she truly cared for him after all. Why had she never bothered to show it during the rest of his life?

She barked over her shoulder to the Manta captain, “Continue to deal with this.” The old woman opened her arms to him and several of the other parents and family members gathered around, full of questions.

Fitzpatrick stiffly pushed everyone away. “Not now. Grandmother, I have to talk with you. Immediately.”

“Yes, Patrick. We’ve got a lot to catch up on. I—”

“
Now
. In there, with the door shut.” He gestured toward the captain’s private conference room just off the bridge. When he’d commanded his own similar cruiser, Fitzpatrick had used the chamber for meetings with his officers. “I need to give you some intelligence and tactical information before you let the situation get any more out of hand.”

Maureen reacted with surprise at the way her grandson spoke to her, but she had been a hard businesswoman all her life, and she knew well enough not to make irrevocable decisions until she had all the information. Patrick might give her an advantage with what he had learned during his time among the Roamer clans.

With the door sealed behind them, they sat facing each other across the captain’s small table. He felt embarrassed to be wearing absurd-looking Roamer work clothes. Eventually he was sure he’d be the subject of much media scrutiny, pestered by interviews. Now, though, he had the Battleaxe alone. He rested his elbows on the table and prepared to drive a tough bargain with his grandmother. “First, as a starting and ending point, you’re going to let the Roamers go. All of them.”

She looked at him as if he had gone insane. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve got them now.”

“You don’t have everything, Grandmother. They’ve still got thirty healthy EDF prisoners there, and I made a promise I’d do everything possible to get them rescued.”

“Fine, Patrick. We’ve already made that a condition of Roamer surrender.”

“And how do you propose to enforce that? Do you have any idea how many Roamers and facilities are dispersed in those rings? You’ll be in for quite a surprise if you try to go head-to-head with them. They’ll separate the captives and scatter them throughout the rings. It’s needles and haystacks.”

“We’ll hunt them down. We have adequate sensors.”

He shook his head. “They have thousands of small depots and storerooms and buried chambers among hundreds of thousands of rocks in the rings. You’ll be rooting around for years.”

Maureen looked at him, her stare as sharp as a dissection tool. “What did they do to you, Patrick? They must have tortured you, brainwashed you. Did that man Kellum put you up to this?”

Fitzpatrick actually laughed. “Oh, trust me, the Roamers aren’t at all pleased with what I’m doing. Nevertheless, I am trying to resolve this.”

“You’re back with the EDF now, young man. You are still a commissioned officer and a bona fide war hero. If we play this right, you can become the popular favorite of this whole operation. I can pull strings to get you another military promotion.”

“Ah yes, the dear EDF.” A scowl flickered across his face. “Don’t forget that
they’re
the ones who turned tail and fled at the battle of Osquivel. General Lanyan withdrew his forces and left us here drifting in lifetubes, transmitting distress signals—
which they ignored.
The EDF left their people behind, and you want me to feel grateful for that? If it hadn’t been for those Roamers, all the survivors would be dead, including me. That counts for something in my book.”

Maureen was now clearly angry. “But they came here as scavengers and grave robbers. They picked over the corpses of our ships and tried to turn a profit from it.”

He pounded his fist on the table. “These shipyards have been here for decades, long before the battle of Osquivel. The Roamers simply hid when the EDF battle group arrived. We were too intent on the hydrogues to notice them.”

Fitzpatrick met the old woman’s gaze, neither of them blinking. Maureen herself had taught him how to negotiate, and now he proved that he had learned her techniques well. They would not leave this room until they had sealed their under-the-table deal.

“You have a large group of parents and loved ones here on this Manta. Do you want to tell them that you’re playing games with the lives of their sons and daughters, spouses or siblings? Or that you prefer to go on a year-long wild-goose chase in the ring rubble? I know you better than that, Grandmother.” He leaned forward earnestly. “Look, I can speak with Del Kellum, arrange to have the Roamers deliver the EDF captives to a safe place where we can pick them up. But the Roamers have to be set free. They’ll pack up and leave, and we’ll never find them again.”

“That’s the problem, Patrick,” she said. “You’ve been out of touch with current events. The Hansa Chairman declared all Roamer clans to be outlaws. EDF battle groups have seized or destroyed the largest Roamer facilities, including their central government complex.”

“And why did they do that?” Fitzpatrick asked, already knowing the answer from Zhett.

“Because Roamers broke off trade relations with the Hansa, refused to deliver vital war supplies.”

“Grandmother, don’t just spout propaganda. Roamers are traders and businessmen. Ask yourself why they would break off trade with their biggest customers.”

“They made up some ridiculous story that EDF ships were hijacking and destroying their ships.”

Fitzpatrick felt his gut clench. “It’s the truth. I know that for a fact.” He swallowed hard, but did not want to admit to her, or to anyone, that he himself had destroyed a Roamer cargo ship. “You were Hansa Chairman yourself, Grandmother. You know the things that go on.”

She blinked. “Even so, we can’t simply back off. I don’t have much Hansa authority, but I know for certain Chairman Wenceslas won’t give up everything for the sake of thirty prisoners who were already presumed dead. That’s not enough.”

“Of course it isn’t.” Fitzpatrick finally revealed his trump card. “The Roamers found something that’s worth more than everything else you would confiscate in these shipyards. I can tell you how to find it. When we bring it to Earth, I guarantee you that nobody’ll care how many Roamers got away here.”

Maureen folded her knobby hands together. “You’ve never been a boy prone to exaggeration, Patrick, but that’s quite an extravagant claim. You’d better be able to back it up.”

“Oh, I can, Grandmother.” He showed her with his eyes that he could be just as stubborn as she was. “After the battle of Osquivel, the Roamers got their hands on an intact hydrogue derelict. It’s fully functional and comes complete with one or two hydrogue cadavers, I think. Nobody’s ever had access to one of the alien bodies before, nor have we been able to inspect their machinery, their propulsion systems, their weapons in working condition.
Everything’s
in there. Imagine what the EDF could do with all that.”

Maureen tried unsuccessfully to cover her surprise. “That’s nothing new, Patrick. We already have several fragments of destroyed warglobes from the attack on Theroc.” Before he could ask questions, his grandmother’s shoulders sagged. “But I won’t kid you. Those pieces of wreckage were useless.”

“This one
isn’t,
Grandmother. It’s the Rosetta stone, the goose that lays the golden eggs, whichever silly metaphor you want me to use.”

“What’s to stop us from searching the rings until we find it ourselves?”

“Same problem as before. You can have it immediately, or waste months. But in order to get it, you’re going to have to let the Roamers go.” He crossed his arms over his embroidered work shirt. “That’s my final offer. Just take it, and we can be done with this right now.”

Her voice was small and genuinely concerned. “Why are you doing this?”

He thought for a long time before he answered. “Maybe I’d like to be a real hero for once instead of a manufactured one.”

In his heart he knew that neither the EDF nor the Roamers would ever see him that way. He had stabbed them both in the back. Though he’d been under orders,
he
had destroyed Raven Kamarov’s ship, which had triggered the whole mess between the Hansa and the clans.

Fitzpatrick believed wholeheartedly that he was doing the right thing now, seizing the best advantage for both parties, but he doubted General Lanyan, or most particularly Zhett Kellum, would ever let him forget what he had done. Forgiveness, he supposed, was out of the question.

Naturally the Roamers were suspicious of the offer, but they had little choice. Most of the rampant Soldier compies had been destroyed or deactivated, but their primary shipyard facilities had been ruined by the sabotage. Del Kellum claimed that seven of his people had died in the debacle, but all the EDF prisoners had been kept safe, suffering only minimal injuries.

Maureen Fitzpatrick’s old Manta and its accompanying diplomatic craft made no further threats against the clans. It was an uneasy standoff, but the shipyard workers gradually began to believe the Eddies would not attack them—at least not right away.

Fitzpatrick, having changed out of Roamer work clothes and into a salvaged EDF uniform, stood on the bridge beside his grandmother.

Below, in the broken rings, Roamer vessels packed up and dispersed like frightened mice to any bolt-hole, nook, or cranny. Fitzpatrick had not told his grandmother about the cometary extraction workyards high up in the fringes of the system. As soon as the EDF fleet departed, larger, faster clan vessels would come down and take the Roamers out of the Osquivel system—including Zhett.

She would probably never speak to him again.

The thirty EDF prisoners were taken to an undisclosed location, where they would wait in safety until the Roamers were convinced Maureen Fitzpatrick did not intend to double-cross them. His grandmother had been angered by the terms of the settlement, but even she had to admit it was the best option.

“All right, Patrick—you’ve had your way.” She stared out at the majestic rings and the giant planet. “Now show us this hydrogue derelict. It better be worth so much trouble, that’s all I can say.”

“Oh, it is, Grandmother.”

The big cruiser moved away from the main shipyards, circling around the rings and climbing out of the plane to the isolated spot where Kotto Okiah had left the alien vessel. The sphere hung like a tiny star sparkling in the reflected light from the gas giant.

Maureen dispatched a Remora squadron with crews outfitted in commando suits to take possession of the empty derelict. Noting the triumphant expression on his grandmother’s face, Fitzpatrick said, “See? We’ll still receive plenty of applause when we get home to Earth.”

Del Kellum transmitted the coordinates of the location to which the EDF prisoners had been taken. After bringing the diamond-hulled derelict into his cargo bay, the Manta captain changed course and raced back to retrieve the lost EDF personnel. Families crowded forward, hoping to meet their loved ones again; by now, a full list of survivors had been disseminated, to the joy or anguish of the passengers.

Although Fitzpatrick was satisfied with what he had accomplished, his heart was still heavy. Because he had played on Zhett’s emotions in order to effect his escape, the beautiful young woman would be more angry, hurt, and suspicious than anyone else. Would he ever see her again?

Watching the rings, he saw that most of the Roamer ships had already fanned out and lost themselves among thousands of other target signatures drifting in the rubble field. Del Kellum wouldn’t believe that he and his Roamers were free to escape until every last EDF ship was gone.

In high spirits, Maureen ordered the Manta cruiser to depart from Osquivel, taking Patrick Fitzpatrick back home.

Chapter 128—KING PETER

With every move he made, the political ground grew more slippery beneath his feet. Peter relied heavily on the assistance of the Teacher compy OX, and he always had Estarra, his beautiful and devoted Queen.

Peter did not yet trust Deputy Cain, although surprising rumors had suddenly spread among the populace, reported and repeated in gossip streams. It would be too much of a coincidence to believe the news had gotten out any other way. Cain had done as he had said.

Cards and supportive messages flooded into the Whisper Palace from the delighted populace. They were ecstatic. The Queen was pregnant! Soon there would be a royal heir, a baby who would surely be as handsome or beautiful as the regal parents.

Courtiers and guards smiled at the couple, giving knowing nods. Others were so bold as to ask if the news was true, but Peter was smart enough to evade the question, simply promising that an appropriate announcement would be forthcoming as soon as he had discussed the matter sufficiently with the Hansa Chairman.

Basil could do nothing about it now.

What made Peter most uneasy, though, was that the Chairman made no comment. He had expected Basil to rage at him for putting the Hansa in such an awkward situation. The King had practiced his bewildered look, rehearsed his protestations of innocence, ready for the confrontation. After all,
he
wasn’t responsible for any of the rumors. It should have been easy to blame the Palace medical doctors for the rumor, or the technicians who had taken samples or performed pregnancy tests.

But Basil didn’t give him the opportunity—never asked, never demanded answers. That was a very bad sign.

Other rumors around the Whisper Palace were far more frightening. Something had happened to all of the Klikiss robots, and new doubt had been cast on the Soldier compies. As Cain had hinted, another Hansa colony had been wiped out, but no one seemed to have any details—and that wasn’t the sort of news usually kept secret, which meant even Basil must be afraid of the implications. Perhaps that was what kept him so preoccupied...

“I’d like to go swimming again.” Estarra touched his arm, and he smiled.

“I’d like to swim with you.”

“And the dolphins,” she said.

“And the dolphins, of course.”

As the baby grew within her, Estarra craved peaceful moments in the water more than ever. Surrounded by a whirlwind of politics, treachery, and obligations, the couple relished their retreats to this one warm sanctuary. For Peter, it was part of a healing process that allowed him to gather his thoughts and recharge his energy.

He led his Queen out of the royal apartments and down the corridors. They didn’t need to tell anyone where they were going. “Basil will know where to find us if he needs us.”

“Doesn’t he always?” They glanced at each other with knowing, nervous smiles.

For a long time now the Chairman had been growing more and more volatile, letting desperation and anger rule his decisions. He had earned the enmity of struggling colonies by abandoning or even bullying them, and had started the current nonsensical brawl with the Roamers. His actions weren’t the cool and considered ways of a skilled Chairman. They seemed like the actions of a drowning man grasping at any straw.

Basil wasn’t just crumbling as a leader; he was dangerous. After seeing the drugged-senseless Prince Daniel and hearing Basil
command
Estarra to terminate her pregnancy, what choice had Peter had but to seek a means of fighting back? So why had the Chairman not reacted to the leaked rumors about the Queen’s pregnancy?

Together they entered the grotto where the dolphins played. The walls were made of coral and lava rock polished smooth, draped with ferns and lush vegetation. The water stood in deep pools connected by passages through which the dolphins could swim and frolic.

As soon as he stepped into the chamber, the smell struck Peter. Estarra screamed.

The stench of blood and violence hung thick in the humid air. Peter stared, and his feet seemed frozen to the ground. He opened and closed his mouth, unable to speak. Estarra pressed herself against his chest, sobbing.

In the calm, warm waters of their sanctuary, every dolphin had been butchered. The mangled gray and red carcasses floated in the crimson water like so much discarded meat.

Peter’s knees felt weak, and he clung to Estarra while she shuddered. Perhaps the Chairman had learned of his surreptitious conversation with Deputy Cain, or perhaps this was merely his blunt response to the pregnancy itself or the release of rumors about the baby.

He held Estarra, rocking her as much to comfort himself as her. Burgeoning anger turned his vision as red as the blood-murked water. His quiet, private clash with the Chairman had passed utterly beyond the bounds of schemes and skirmishes. The King and Queen could no longer remain safe by exercising restraint where the Chairman was concerned.

As his head pounded with the force of his fury, Peter realized that many more options were available to him than he had previously considered. And he would not hold himself back—even if it meant killing Basil Wenceslas.