The Thirteenth Man (30 page)

Momma broke it up, personally hustled Charlie and Del into a small, private dining room in which a table for two had been meticulously prepared. The table was round with a cushioned bench seat wrapped halfway around it, the two place settings arrayed so that Charlie and Del sat side by side. Charlie thought it best not to tell Del that these were the rooms where the girls took their johns for dinner and drinks. The tables and seating were designed so that if a spacer got amorous in the middle of a meal, the girl was close at hand with no table separating them.

Charlie had no objection to the arrangement.

“You not ordering tonight,” Momma said. “Momma Toofat got the dinner all planned out; you just eat.”

After Momma left, Del said, “This should be interesting.”

“She's a good cook,” Charlie said. “I mean, spacers in the bar are happy with slop. But for family, friends, while it's not elegant, it's damn good.”

Momma brought in a bottle of wine, accompanied by Trina with the first course. Charlie and Del ate, and they chatted amiably, and he hadn't the faintest idea how to do this marriage proposal thing. Especially since she knew it was coming. Did she expect him to get down on one knee? He'd do that, if that's what she wanted. But that didn't seem like the Del he knew. He wrestled with the idea throughout dinner.

At one point he realized that if he was going to propose to her, he shouldn't be keeping secrets, so he told her about the defenses at Starfall, and the coalition he was trying to put together. Her eyes widened as he spoke, then she leaned back and said, “Aagerbanne, Istanna, Toellan, Kinatha—­all of them.”

“It's still not enough,” he said. “I need Telka and the other duchies. Without them, it's just not enough.”

“I might be able to help with Telka,” she said. She then got rather excited about the whole mess, and through the rest of the dinner she speculated on how to approach the Duchess. Charlie realized she probably could convince Telka to join them.

They finished the last course, and Momma brought them a ­couple of snifters with a splash of brandy. He could tell Del really enjoyed the food, and hopefully the company as well.

“My god,” she said. “You're terrified.”

She'd caught him off guard and all he could say was, “I'm not sure how to do this. I was taught how to be a soldier. No one, especially not me, ever thought I'd be sitting at dinner trying to figure out how to propose marriage to a princess.”

She shook her head sadly. “I think your problem is you can't get past the princess thing. Why don't you try thinking of me as just a girl?”

He realized he was never going to get the upper hand in this, decided to just spit it out. “I want you to marry me. Not because of the politics—­well there's that too. But I want you to marry me just because I . . . want . . . you . . . to.”

She smiled and leaned close to him. As she spoke he could feel her breath against his cheek. “That's a pretty good start, Mr. Cass. Now just ask the big question.”

He grimaced. “Will you marry me?”

She frowned and considered the question carefully. “I believe it's traditional to offer me a ring.”

“I thought about that,” he said. “I could have found someplace here to buy a ring. But it wouldn't have meant anything, and I already have a ring for you. It's back at Starfall, though, so I can't give it to you right at this moment.”

She moved even closer so that her lips brushed lightly against his cheek as she spoke. “You bought a ring for me before we came here?”

“No,” he said, thinking he'd made a horrible mistake. “It was my mother's. It's the only thing I have of hers. Cesare gave it to her. They say he loved her. And when she . . . died, he made sure I got it to remember her by. I thought . . . you could wear that ring.”

She spoke slowly and carefully, her voice a faint whisper in his ear. “Oh Mr. Cass, you just scored big-­time points in the romance department.”

Charlie couldn't remember how they got there, but he was on his back on the long cushioned seat, she on top of him, kissing him like she'd never kissed him before, softly, tenderly. When they came up for air she said, “Yes, I just may have to do my civic duty.”

He wasn't sure what that meant.

But he certainly enjoyed dessert.

N
either of them let it go any further than serious kissing and some heavy breathing, not in Momma Toofat's. Del carefully straightened her somewhat disheveled gown and Charlie his rumpled tunic, and Del used a silk napkin to wipe her lipstick off his lips and cheek. On their way out of the restaurant Charlie saw Becky, Trina, and Janice high-­fiving each other. Momma fluttered around Charlie and Del like the mother of the bride. However, they didn't make it out to Andyne-­Borregga's commercial concourse because the twins stepped in front of them before they got to the door. Add said, “There's a man here wants to see you. He was smart enough to approach us, smart enough not to attempt to approach you directly. He says you know him, and would want to see him. He says his name is Thessa.”

Charlie recalled the name, but couldn't place it. Ell gave him the clue he needed. “He's wearing civilian clothes, little brother, but he's navy all the way.”

Telka's distinguished looking senior captain. “Yes,” Charlie said. “I do want to see him.” He turned to Del. “I'm sorry.” To Ell he said, “Please see that Her Highness gets back safely—­”

He stopped in midsentence as Ell slowly shook her head. “He wants to see you both. And he mentioned Her Highness by name. He has a private room here, though he wouldn't let us enter it. He said you'll be safe.”

Charlie understood. It must be Telka herself in the private room, and she didn't want to be observed by anyone as having personally come to Andyne-­Borregga. “We can trust him,” Charlie said. Add and Ell both looked uncomfortable with that, but they had no alternative.

The twins led them to another private room, Add knocked on the door politely and Thessa answered it. He bowed to Del and Charlie. “Your Highness. Your Grace.”

He stepped aside and Charlie let Del precede him. The room they stepped into was meant for larger private parties, and
both
Rierma and Telka awaited them there. “Charles, my boy,” Rierma said. “And Delilah, you look absolutely stunning.”

Telka greeted Del. “Your Highness.” Del curtsied politely.

The plump little woman turned to Charlie. “Your Grace, or is it . . . Edwin Chevard?”

T
elka had also pieced together a fairly good idea of the rest of Charlie's activities, confronted him with them. A frown appeared on Del's face and it deepened as she listened to the older woman. To get Telka's cooperation, Charlie had to tell her about the hunter-­killers. To Telka and Thessa's credit, neither of them showed the skepticism that others had.

“You didn't tell me about these new ships,” Del demanded angrily. “How dare you, after what we agreed to this evening.”

“I told you about the alliance and Starfall's defenses,” Charlie said. “It never occurred to me you'd care about ships.”

Telka's eyes narrowed; she looked from Charlie to Del and back again. Then she turned to Rierma. “They're lovers, aren't they?”

Del blushed almost scarlet, and Rierma said, “Pretty obvious, isn't it?”

“Absolutely not,” Del said. “Not if he's going to keep secrets like that from me.”

Telka smiled, took one of Del's hands, and said, “Don't try to fool an old woman, my dear.”

Rierma asked, “And what did you two agree to this evening?”

Del's eyes widened and she looked at Charlie. He knew they both looked like a ­couple of guilty children. She took a deep breath in an obvious effort to calm herself. Then she carefully repeated her reasoning for why Charlie was the only possible choice for a husband. “The perfect compromise candidate, and we're betrothed. But we're not lovers, not yet.” She said that almost defiantly.

Telka asked, “But what of your betrothal to Dieter?”

Charlie told them about Cesare's sneaky gift of the right to choose Del's husband. And after a few questions about its authenticity, Rierma slapped Charlie on the back. “Congratulations are in order, my boy. And, I must admit, you
are
the only candidate that none of us will try to have assassinated. At least not right away.”

Before they got down to any serious planning, Charlie said, “I should get Arthur in here.”

Rierma frowned. “Arthur? I thought he was kidnapped by pirates.”

Charlie grimaced and mumbled quietly, “Avast ye maties. Shiver ye timbers, and all that stuff.”

Rierma shook his head and his frown deepened. Telka burst into roars of laughter, with tears streaming down her cheeks. “You're also Raul the Damned? Is there even such a thing as the Mexak League?”

Charlie told them about Drakwin. They all got a good laugh out of it, and Telka said, “You're a sneakier son-­of-­a-­bitch than your father.” Even Del calmed down, and didn't seem to mind that he'd forgotten to tell her
that
secret as well.

After Arthur joined them, to Charlie's complete surprise, he learned that Telka had already formed an alliance with Rierma, Band, Harrimo, and Sig. “Chelko is too hotheaded,” she said. “We can't trust him to be discreet so we'll bring him in at the last minute.”

Charlie also learned their alliance had twenty warships stationed in deep space seven light-­years off Andyne-­Borregga. “You and this space station are the only things holding this coalition together, so we've decided its defense is paramount.”

That was something Charlie had been worrying about for some time now. Thessa and Arthur would review the station's defenses with an eye to coordination with the added warships, and during the next month they'd marshal their forces here in preparation for an assault on the Four Tyrants.

“Please,” Del said. “Don't harm my father and mother.”

“My dear,” Telka said kindly. “Your parents need to be . . . contained . . . not murdered.”

They discussed more strategy, and while Charlie was open about pretty much everything, two things he managed to conceal from them were the warships that Roger had found on platform twelve and the improved state of his finances. Telka might object to such a strong king, and Charlie might lose his carefully nurtured status as a compromise candidate. The funny thing was, he really didn't care all that much about being king.

He just didn't want to mess up the chance to marry Del.

Arthur mentioned that they needed to have one of the hunter-­killers continue gunrunning for the Syndonese insurgents. Del, Thessa, Rierma, and Telka all started, looking at Charlie with expressions ranging from surprise to calculating assessment. Del asked, “You mean you're behind that, too?”

 

CHAPTER 29

TRUTH EMERGES

“Y
our Grace, we've detected several transition wakes incoming at about five light-­years. They're at the extreme limit of our detection range, so it's difficult to make out any details yet, but they're driving hard enough to be warships.”

Charlie sat up in bed, rubbed at his eyes, and tried to shake the cobwebs out of his head. It took him a moment to remember he was back on Luna, had only returned from Andyne-­Borregga two days ago. He looked at his watch; it was the middle of the night.

“I'll be right there,” he told Pelletier. Charlie stopped only to splash some water on his face and throw on some clothes.

Pelletier had dramatically transformed the command center. An operator now sat at every console, and a buzz of activity filled the air, while Pelletier occupied an office to one side of the main room. “We've got about a day and a half,” Pelletier said as Charlie stepped into his office. Anticipating Charlie's next question, he added, “And no, they're still not close enough for any details.”

“What's the status on our defenses?”

“Progress on the Lunan surface batteries has gone better than expected. We've got twenty fully operational, and those are big transition batteries, so they can easily punch through the shielding on a large battleship. And each includes a ­couple of defensive emplacements.

“The orbital weapons platforms are coming up more slowly because we've focused a lot of attention on Luna Prime, but we've got eight fully operational, and those platforms carry a lot of firepower as well.

“The ships are problematic. Roger's gone through the four heavy cruisers, checked them out fully, and they're all capable of operating at between seventy and ninety percent effectiveness, with no failures in major subsystems.”

“Well, that's not too bad,” Charlie said. “After six months on deep space patrol, the best of ships is usually down to seventy-­five, maybe eighty percent effectiveness.”

Pelletier shook his head. “The problem is crews. We've cherry-­picked enough experienced spacers from the other defensive stations to make up a crew and a half for the big cruisers, and we're still completely missing some specialists' ratings. Roger's reviewing the qualifications on the spacers you brought back from Andyne-­Borregga, but he's only just started.”

For several seconds Charlie stared at the data Pelletier showed him, but couldn't escape the painful truth that years of experience told him. “We can't put those ships into combat, if it comes to that—­not with new crews that haven't had a chance to shake down yet. That would be disastrous. But maybe there's a way they don't have to fight. Maybe they don't need to be dangerous.”

“How's that, Your Grace?”

Charlie grinned. “They just need to
look
dangerous.”

“I
t looks like ten wakes, sir,” the technician said, carefully examining the data on his screens. Charlie, Winston, and Pelletier stood behind him looking over his shoulder. “And I'd guess that two of them are large battleships, with some cruisers and destroyers thrown into the mix.”

“How far out?” Charlie asked.

“Point-­one light-­year, Your Grace. Decelerating strongly, I'd say down-­transition within the next few minutes, depending upon how they want to play it.”

Pelletier's command center reminded Charlie of the bridge of a ship, though this ship commanded far more firepower than any warship. But like on any warship, they spent most of their time waiting.

Charlie asked, “Everything in place?”

Pelletier looked over the technician's shoulder at the screen. Charlie knew Pelletier was nervous about the situation, but professional enough not to show it to his ­people. “The surface batteries and the shielding for this installation are at full combat status. The platforms, the four cruisers, and
The Headsman
are keeping power drain down, but can come to full combat status in about ten minutes.”

“Good.”

“Not really, sir. If someone knew to look, they could detect them from the edge of our nearspace, and I don't like that.”

“What's done is done. No use worrying over it.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Sir,” the technician said. “They're about two minutes out from our nearspace, sir, and not leapfrogging, so it's not an attack run.”

Charlie looked at the data on the screen in front of the technician. He was right. If it had been an attack run, they'd have long ago down-­transited a destroyer so it could uplink scan, nav, and targeting data to the other ships still in transition.

“Sir, they're crossing into nearspace now, and . . .” The technician checked his data. “ . . . holding at forty lights, driving into the system in transition.”

Charlie could sense relief wash over everyone in the center. No one would make such an approach if they thought any significant defensive capability might oppose them.

“There we go, sir, they just down-­transited at twelve AUs. I got ten clear transition flares.” The technician worked intently at his console for a few moments. “Looks like two battleships, four heavy cruisers, and four destroyers, and . . . definitely de Maris.”

Another ten minutes passed while they confirmed the technician's observations. “They're driving at point-­eight lights and decelerating at just under two thousand gravities, sir. That should put them here at Luna with velocity matched in just over four hours.”

“I've got an incoming signal, sir,” another technician said. “The Duke de Maris wishes to speak with the Duke de Lunis.”

“Put it through to my implants, blind copy Winston, and record.”

Theode's image appeared in front of him. “Charlie, dear brother,” Theode said. “I've come to pay my respects.”

Charlie asked, “With a small fleet of warships?”

“Of course, dear brother. How else should one of the most powerful men in the Realm travel, but with a proper retinue? My officers tell me you have Starfall's surface shielding active. Now is that any way to greet your dear brother?”

“It's not a greeting, Theode, merely a precaution. We had no idea who was approaching.”

Theode smiled, though it was more a sneer. “Well, it's a precaution that's no longer necessary now that you know it's me, so cut the power feed to Starfall's shielding.”

“I won't do that until I know your intentions.”

“My intentions are to visit my beloved brother. And active shields are a rather inhospitable way of welcoming me, don't you think? So cut the shields, or I'll cut them with heavy bombardment. We both know that without other defenses, those shields will only hold for so long.”

Charlie glanced at Winston, his look a silent question. “It's borderline,” Winston said. “It's much cleaner if he makes a hard threat once the shields are down, and especially if he personally threatens you.” He and Charlie had discussed this at some length. If it was one of the Ten coming at them, even with a small fleet of warships, there would be unpleasant ramifications if Charlie fired the first shot without provocation. On the other hand, if he could get his guest to make an open threat, Charlie would be free to act. And while the Ten might not support him fully, any repercussions after the fact would be limited.

Charlie turned to Pelletier. “Cut the shields.”

Pelletier didn't try to hide his unhappiness as he gave the order. But he was a seasoned officer and knew not to challenge a superior's order. And in any case, they could bring the shields back up in an instant.

“That's much better,” Theode said, the sneer unchanged. “My officers tell me we'll arrive in a little less than four hours, and I'm sure it'll be a wonderful reunion. I do hope you show better hospitality than you've shown so far.”

T
hey parked the ten warships in high orbits around Terra, Luna's primary. Theode had brought Gaida, and while Theode strutted through the halls of Starfall, Gaida followed him radiating cold disapproval of Charlie and everything associated with him. Theode also brought a bodyguard of twelve armed soldiers, men with a hard look about them. Since Charlie didn't recognize any of them, he concluded they were mercenaries.

Theode insisted on a grand tour of Starfall. At one point, standing on a high balcony overlooking the sterile Lunar landscape, he said, “When you're gone I think I'll use Starfall as a vacation retreat. It boasts wonderful vistas.”

Charlie glanced at Winston, who responded with a slight shake of his head—­still not enough.

Theode made other veiled references to Charlie's demise, but never came out with an outright threat, and he clearly enjoyed Charlie's helplessness in the matter. After the tour Gaida said, “Well, you've made the place reasonably comfortable. You can show us to our rooms now.”

Charlie had thought about this carefully, had structured the tour so they finished in one of the large ballrooms in Starfall, a room with many entrances on all sides. “Rooms? I'm not providing you with rooms. Surely you know you're not invited to stay.”

Theode snarled, “It's not up to you to decide if we stay or not. We're staying.”

“But it is up to me. I am the consecrated lord of this house, and by law, in this house and on these properties, my word is law.”

Theode's temper was actually rather easy to manipulate. He shouted, “Your word is nothing, whoreson. Your word is worth only what I say it is, and my word is backed by these men here.” He swept out an arm, indicating the mercenaries. “And the warships I have in orbit.”

Charlie smiled, a grin meant to aggravate Theode further. “Are you threatening me, Twerp?”

Theode turned a vivid red, leaned toward Charlie, and shouted in his face, spittle flying from his lips as he spoke. “I told you never to call me that, you son of a poxed whore. I'm not threatening you. I'm telling you the facts. Your days of pretending at nobility are through. I'm here to put an end to you and the games you've been playing with that Chevard fellow.”

That was an interesting comment. The Four Tyrants must have assumed Charlie was working with Edwin Chevard. He was glad they hadn't truly put all the pieces together yet.

“Theode,” Gaida said, “calm yourself.”

Her words might have had some effect, but Charlie widened his grin even further and said, “So, Twerp, you're going to kill me, is that it?”

Theode's voice had grown hoarse from screaming. “I'm going to do worse than kill you. You're going to die slow.”

Charlie looked at Winston, who nodded and said, “That should do it nicely.”

Charlie stepped back from Theode as if in fear. He subvocalized into his implants, “Pelletier, phase one.”

Theode stepped forward, still red-­faced with rage and screaming uncontrollably in Charlie's face. For each step he took, Charlie back-­stepped, allowing Theode to drive him across the room, slowly putting distance between them and the mercenaries. Winston, to whom no one paid any attention, stepped back against a far wall, leaving Gaida and the mercenaries isolated in the middle of the room. It was then that Charlie's squad of thirty marines, in full combat armor and carrying heavy grav rifles, appeared from several directions at once with their weapons lowered, surrounding the mercenaries. Two marines stepped in front of Winston, shielding him against possible fire from the mercenaries. Two more stepped behind Theode, shielding him and Charlie from the mercenaries, though with his back to the entire tableau Theode was wholly unaware of the situation and continued his tirade.

Charlie thought of Arthur's treatment in Theode's hands. And he thought of Cesare, and knew that Theode and Gaida must have had something to do with his father's death. And finally he thought about all the times Theode had called his mother a whore, and all his restraint fell away.

Almost calmly, he reached out, gripped Theode's throat, and squeezed, cutting the rant off in midsentence. Theode choked. Charlie squeezed harder and Theode thrashed at him, his eyes bulging and face turning purple. Charlie wanted to kill the bastard, knew he had enough strength, backed by enough anger, to crush the little shit's windpipe right then and there. He knew he could do it, but then he saw Winston standing on the far side of the room, quietly shaking his head from side to side. He hesitated, realized that if he didn't do this proper and legal, he'd never be able to reinstate Arthur.

He tossed Theode in a tumble of arms and legs at Add's and Ell's feet, and said, “Keep him quiet.”

Faced with overwhelming force, the mercenaries, characteristically inclined to self-­preservation as all mercenaries were, raised their hands and did not resist. Charlie's marines quickly disarmed and cuffed them. Add held Theode while Ell held Gaida, so they didn't need cuffs. Theode screamed, “You can't do this. This is illegal.”

Winston said calmly, “But it is legal, Your Grace. Since you threatened Duke Charles with murder in his own house, he is at liberty to exercise rather extraordinary powers.”

Theode screamed a few epithets at Winston until Charlie said to Add, “Please shut him up.”

As Charlie turned to Ell and Gaida, he heard Theode's tirade cut off with a choked gurgle. Gaida gave him an arrogant look and said, “I did not threaten you, whoreson. So detaining me is illegal.”

“But you did just slander me, a member of the Ten. I can't stand here in my own house and allow such a thing to go unchallenged.” Charlie said to Ell, “Put her under deep neural probe. I want it on record how Cesare really died. We'll worry about the legalities of it later.”

“No,” Gaida shouted. “You can't do that!” He ignored her screams as Ell dragged her away. Putting her under a probe was a bit of a stretch legally, but if it revealed what Charlie suspected, no one would care.