“There’s a ship out in the belt,” Warden pronounced, “Free Lunch, Captain Darrin Scroyle. He says he’s working for you.”
“Then he’s a liar,” Holt snapped. “I turned all UMC communications resources over to you. I haven’t had either the time or the facilities to set up another net of my own.
“I’ll have this”—he spat the name—“this Captain Scroyle’s license revoked and his ship decommissioned by the time you get back to UMCPHQ.”
“Fine,” Warden growled. “You do that.” Holt’s disgust and indignation were plain; honest as far as they went. His aura didn’t suggest calculation. He was trying to evaluate Warden, not conceal subterfuge from him.
So Hashi had not gone behind Warden’s back. The DA director was playing a different kind of game.
Warden found no comfort in that.
It was certainly plausible that Free Lunch had lied to protect herself from Punisher. Having no conscience about the truth himself, Hashi liked working with people who dissembled well. He seemed to find a specialized pleasure, almost a kind of exaltation, in the challenge of defining and profiting from other people’s falsehoods.
“But in the meantime,” Warden went on without pausing, “maybe you’ll explain why you assume I wasn’t going to send you a copy of that report?”
“Because,” Holt retorted, “you don’t look good to me right now. Your dependability is, shall we say, starting to fray around the edges?
“My sweet old mother, bless her malicious soul, thinks you’re getting me in trouble. I always pay close attention when she tells me such things.” Threats and distrust whetted his tone. “And you went out of your way to confirm her judgment in that appalling video conference with the GCES. But you didn’t stop there—not you, in spite of your elevated reputation for good sense. You appointed this—this Koina Hannish—to replace Godsen without consulting me. And you sent Joshua against Thanatos Minor under the control of the most accomplished double-dealing bugger you could find.
“I don’t want to wait around until you think the time is right to let me know what’s going on. I prefer hearing the truth in person.”
Grimly Warden stifled an impulse to rasp back, Fine. Let’s both tell the truth. I’ll tell you why I really sent Angus to Billingate. You tell me what you gain from this goddamn hostile peace with the Amnion. Tell me why you work so hard to make sure that nothing we do to protect ourselves is ever quite good enough. Tell me what’s so absolutely important that you have to misuse and manipulate me to get it.
He couldn’t say that: he knew the Dragon too well. And yet in some sense he had to tell the truth. There was no choice about it. Holt had too many other sources of information. As matters stood, he owned the UMCP. And he’d built Warden’s domain to suit his own purposes. Data-sharing with UMCPHQ Center wasn’t his only mechanism for gathering knowledge. If other means failed, he probably had a dozen strategically placed buggers he could rely on.
“All right.” To cover himself while he controlled his yearning for honesty, Warden took a chair and sat down opposite Holt; folded his heavy forearms over his chest. “You need to know this in any case. Some of it’s out of my province.” Carefully he prepared himself to offer the bait which he hoped would lure Holt into a mistake; the one mistake he needed. “And some of it’s just too damn scary to keep to myself.”
He wanted Holt to let Morn live. But the Dragon would never do that unless he were given something that he thought was worth the risk.
Desperation or providence had supplied Warden with something that might suffice—
“The report came from Director Donner,” he explained, “but she got it directly from Trumpet and flared it to us. It isn’t remotely complete. You have to understand that Joshua is running for his life. He was betrayed by Milos Taverner, and he’s got Amnion after him.”
Holt’s gaze became a hard glare.
“I know you don’t like the chances I took,” Warden went on, “but Director Lebwohl and I haven’t been stupid about this. We knew Milos couldn’t be trusted. And we knew we couldn’t foresee everything that might happen to Joshua. If we tried to write instruction-sets to control him completely in every situation, then any problem we hadn’t foreseen might paralyze or kill him. So we gave him alternate priority-codes—codes Milos didn’t know about—and programmed them to take effect automatically if Milos betrayed him.
“But if those codes went into effect, it meant the situation was worse than we thought it would be. Treachery adds dangers we couldn’t predict. And without Milos to control him, Joshua might make decisions that multiplied the hazards. Under those circumstances, we knew we couldn’t afford to let him come back here on his own. We wouldn’t have any idea what kind of trouble he was bringing with him until it arrived.
“Director Lebwohl and I compensated by writing protections into his datacore. If he was betrayed, his programming requires him to send in a report, activate a homing signal so we can find him—and then go on the run. Keep himself alive until we decide what to do about him. That way we’re covered. We can find out what’s going on before we have to commit ourselves.
“Well, it all happened. Milos did betray him. His new priority-codes are in effect. His homing signal and his report confirm that. Now he’s on the run because that’s how we programmed him. And he’s got Amnion after him because we sent him into a mess that was worse than we thought it would be.”
Personnel aboard include—
Warden paused to tighten the grip of his arms. He’d planned for this crisis, prayed for it; readied himself—Now he had to see it through.
He’d promised Holt that Morn Hyland would die. But Warden himself wanted her alive.
Deliberately he added, “Joshua has quite a few people with him.”
“‘People’?” Holt interrupted. “What ‘people’?” Hints of IR fire licked through his aura. “This wasn’t supposed to be a goddamn passenger run.”
Now, Warden thought, gripping himself harder. This is it.
As if he weren’t staring ruin in the face, he answered calmly, “Nick Succorso. Four of his crew—Mikka and Ciro Vasaczk, Sib Mackern, Vector Shaheed.”
He almost hoped Holt would recognize Shaheed’s name. The fallout would be awkward; but at least Holt would be distracted.
Unfortunately the Dragon was concentrating too hard to call on his encyclopedic knowledge of his enemies.
“Joshua, of course,” Warden continued as if he’d only paused to swallow. “Morn Hyland. And a kid named Davies Hyland.”
The bait.
Fasner may not have heard that last piece of information. He was already on his feet, already yelling.
“Morn Hyland?” His fists punched the air at Warden’s face; an apoplectic flush mottled his cheeks. “You God damn sonofabitch! You sent Joshua out there to rescue Morn Hyland?”
“No, I didn’t,” Warden said stolidly; falsely.
“Are you saying he broke his programming?” Holt roared. “He’s a cyborg! You told me it’s impossible for him to do anything he wasn’t programmed for! And you specifically told me he wasn’t programmed to rescue her!”
“He wasn’t.” Holt’s fury made it easier for Warden to retain his poise. Nevertheless he didn’t bother to conceal his own anger. He hated lying, even to the man he considered humankind’s worst betrayer. “But he also wasn’t programmed to kill her. If that was what you wanted, you should have said so. I assume Joshua needed Nick for something, and taking Morn along was Nick’s price.”
Nearly screaming, Holt fired back, “Then why aren’t they dead now? Have you gone stupid, or is this treason? Morn Hyland is alive! What’s the matter with you? I ordered you to kill that ship, kill everybody aboard, if anything went wrong! Don’t you call this wrong? Why didn’t your fucking Min Donner carry out my orders?”
“‘Treason,’ “Warden snorted with a glower. “I like that. You haven’t even heard my report yet, and you accuse me of treason. Do you really want to miss the point n
ow? Wouldn’t you rather wait until I’m finished?”
Unaccustomed to men who disobeyed him—or, worse, men who acted like they knew better than he did—Holt gaped back at the UMCP director. Above his open mouth, his eyes blinked like cries.
“Then sit down and stop shouting,” Warden commanded as if he’d gained what he wanted. Trying to undermine Holt’s indignation, he added, “You’re giving yourself an infarction.” Holt knew what Warden’s prosthetic sight was good for. “None of this is simple. I need you to pay attention.”
The Dragon closed his mouth. He sat down. For a moment his emissions turned pale with uncertainty. Unaware of what he did, he raised a trembling hand to his chest as if he wanted to rub his heart. He was a discerning judge of his own symptoms, however, his own condition. Almost immediately he came back into focus like a beast emerging from a lair, ready for battle.
To prevent him from speaking, Warden said acidly, “Director Donner didn’t just send us that report. She read it. She has enough sense to see what it means. She didn’t kill Trumpet because she knew I would flay her skin off if she did. We need that ship alive, Holt—we need everybody aboard alive.”
Smell the bait, you heartless bastard! Give me a chance.
Holt hawked an obscenity. “Ward, you’re hanging by your balls here. You had better do an extraordinary job of convincing me. Otherwise you’re gone. Your commission won’t last long enough to get you back on your own shuttle. And I promise you this. The next UMCP director will know how to make that bitch of yours follow orders.”
“Fine.” Warden kept his arms locked to his chest, but he wielded his voice like a lash. “I’m trying to save your entire kingdom for you, not to mention your personal ass. If you can’t think of anything more useful to do than threaten me, I’ll quit now and let the ‘next UMCP director’ make sense out of all this.”
Without a blink or a flicker, Holt held Warden’s glare. His aura yowled of furies that didn’t show on his face. This was the Holt Fasner who scared Warden down to his bones: the man who used rage and hate and hunger as forms of concentration, to make himself invulnerable.
Warden also knew how to concentrate. But his emotions were of another kind. Slumping slightly, as if he were able to relax with the Dragon’s glower fixed on him, he resumed his report.
“Don’t ask me to explain all the details. I only know what was in Trumpet’s flare. But here’s the way it looks, as far as I can put it together.
“Nick Succorso and Morn Hyland went to Enablement Station because she was pregnant. I don’t know why either of them cared, pr why they thought going there was a good idea. All I know is, they went there, and she had them ‘force-grow’ her a son, whom she named ‘Davies Hyland’—after her father, I suppose. Then they got in trouble.
“Apparently the Amnion decided they want Davies. They think he holds the secret to mutating Amnion so that they’ll be indistinguishable from human beings.” Are you listening, Holt? Do you hear what I’m really saying? “Which means they could infiltrate our space without being detected. They could destroy us without a shot being fired, and we wouldn’t even know it was happening until we were already doomed.”
Can you smell it?
Holt’s aura roiled with agitation and a clenched, acidic lust, but his features revealed nothing. Only his eyes blinked and blinked.
“So Captain’s Fancy ran,” Warden rasped, “and the Amnion sent warships after her. She must have lost her gap drive—instead of trying to reach human space, she headed for Billingate, the nearest port with a shipyard.
“That’s crucial. She’s a tach ship. What happened to her gap drive? And how did she get there and back so fast at space-normal speeds? A trip like that should have taken years.
“Joshua’s message said, ‘The Amnion are experimenting with specialized gap drives to achieve near-C velocities for their warships. Nick Succorso and his people have direct knowledge of this.’ Here’s what I think happened.
“Nick blew out his gap drive getting to Enablement, and he couldn’t fix it, so he traded for repairs. I don’t know what he had to trade with, but he must have had something, or else he wouldn’t have been able to pay to “get Morn’s son force-grown. Maybe the Amnion thought it was valuable enough to cover repairs. Or maybe it was an experiment—they used Captain’s Fancy to test their ‘specialized gap drives.’ I can’t imagine how else Nick and his crew would know about it.”
“You’re wasting my time,” Holt snarled impatiently. His ability to contain his furies seemed to be weakening. “I don’t care about weapons systems. That’s your worry. If you can’t figure out what to do about this, I’ll find someone who can.”
Warden nodded. “Fair enough. I’ll do my job. But that’s only a piece of the story.
“Whatever happened after Captain’s Fancy left Enablement, the warships cut her off before she reached Billingate. They wanted Davies.” That was as close as Warden dared go to waving his bait under Holt’s nose. “Trying to protect himself, I guess, Nick put Davies in an ejection pod and fired him to Billingate.” Warden had arrived at this conclusion by an intuitive leap based on the combination of Punisher’s and Free Lunch’s transmissions. “Now Captain’s Fancy was allowed to dock. I’m assuming the Amnion didn’t want to alienate Billingate, so they didn’t take Davies by force. Instead they ordered Nick to get him back and hand him over or face the consequences of cheating them.
“Apparently Nick gave them Morn. He must have been trying to buy time.” However Hashi had come by it, his information was invaluable. “But she wasn’t the one they wanted. As far as he was concerned, it was Davies or nothing. But before he let him have her—this is crucial, too—he gave her some of DA’s mutagen immunity drug. Joshua says it’s possible they know about the drug because they may have found it in her blood.”
Trying to make Morn’s survival more palatable, Warden offered Holt vindication as well as bait. The Dragon’s every instinct had rebelled against Vector Shaheed’s antimutagen research for Intertech. Warden had persuaded the UMC CEO to give the research to DA against his better judgment. Perhaps being proved right would soften Holt’s outrage.
He kept his reaction to himself, however. His emissions boiled and spat; but they articulated his emotions in colors and patterns, not in words.
Fear tugged at Warden’s guts. He could feel failure gathering in the room around him.
“That’s when Trumpet arrived,” he went on stiffly. “What happened next isn’t clear yet. Joshua and Milos got together with Nick. Then Milos went over to the Amnion. He may have been trying to warn them.” He refrained from mentioning that this detail was crucial as well. “And someone stole Davies from Billingate. Someone—Nick and a few of his people—raided the Amnion to get Morn back.
“Somehow they all ended up aboard Trumpet—Nick, four of his crew, Davies, Morn, and Joshua. Captain’s Fancy went down attacking one of the warships so that Trumpet could get out of dock. But Joshua did his job. When Billingate’s fusion generator blew, he escaped by riding the confusion.”
Warden lifted his shoulders as if he were consigning his fate to the Dragon’s whim. “That’s the report. Director Donner added the information that there’s a ship, presumably Amnion, heading out of forbidden space after Trumpet. And she told me about Free Lunch’s alleged contract with you. Then she went after Trumpet herself”—he did his best to spare Min the consequences of Holt’s anger—“to keep the Amnion off Joshua’s back until we decide what we want to do with him.”
“Fine.” Holt’s emissions suggested mockery. “You make it all sound wonderfully tidy and successful. In fact, you almost make it sound reasonable.
“What do you propose to do now? Trumpet is back in human space. Presumably you can protect her. If I give you enough rope so you can go ahead and hang yourself, what decisions will you make?”
Warden was ready for this. He was prepared to tell one more lie—a lie which was close enough to the truth to be plausible.
Leaning forward in his seat as if he’d come to the heart of his intentions, he said with quiet intensity, “I know you don’t want Morn back, Holt, but I think we’re damn lucky we got her. We’re damn lucky we got all those other people. We need them.”
Holt’s emanations looked as hot as a solar eruption, although he didn’t interrupt.
Softly Warden insisted, “We need what Nick and his people know about those near-C experiments. We need Joshua because he’s too valuable to throw away. We need Morn because of what she can tell us about the Amnion—and because she gives us a way to check whatever Nick says, which probably won’t be the truth unless he knows we’ll catch a lie; And we need Davies so we can learn what the Amnion hope to get out of him.
“This is our chance. We can put Director Donner aboard Trumpet. Once she gets close enough to transmit a message, she can invoke Joshua’s new codes. Then he’ll take her orders. With her in command and Punisher as escort, she can take them all to someplace safe—a place where the Amnion won’t find them and nobody else will get in our way. We can learn everything they know at our own pace, and we won’t have to let events rush us.
“And there’s another benefit,” he hurried to add before Holt ran out of patience. “Special Counsel Maxim Igensard wants blood. If we don’t contain him”—deliberately Warden spoke of we as if there were no distinction between himself and his master—“he won’t stop until he finds something that makes us look dirty. So dirty he can dictate his own terms to the GCES.
“But if we produce survivors from Billingate, these specific survivors, most of his case against us will collapse. We’ll be able to prove that what we’ve gained justifies the risks we took. We’ll even be able to give him an explanation he can’t refute for what we did with Intertech’s mutagen immunity research. And not abandoning Morn Hyland will do wonders for our credibility.”
Faced with the Dragon’s seething concentration, Warden asked tightly, “Are you listening to me, Holt? When you look like that, I feel like I’m talking to a wall.