Which meant that Lhyn was seeing more of the Lancer than Ekatya was. Three times Ekatya met with the Alsean war council, telling them everything she could think of regarding Voloth weaponry and invasion tactics, but at the third meeting she felt compelled to share what she suspected about the upcoming Assembly vote. It was strategically stupid—she was running the risk of the Alseans simply taking her ship, not that it would do them any good—but she didn’t think she could live with herself if she didn’t at least warn them.
That led to a very uncomfortable discussion in which Lancer Tal asked her to leave the Caphenon intact. When Ekatya explained the impossibility of such a request, Prime Warrior Shantu pointed out that the Protectorate had brought the Voloth to Alsea in the first place, and while its leaders clearly had neither honor nor courage, he believed Ekatya had both. Perhaps she would consider staying and fighting the enemy she had already beaten once. After an exhausting back-and-forth reminiscent of the fight she’d had with Lhyn, she finally persuaded them to accept the only thing she could offer: untraceable weaponry.
She hadn’t seen the Lancer since then, nor did any more Alseans come to the Caphenon for tours or exchanges of knowledge. The builders stopped coming for glass as well. Repairing city windows and presenting the image of a government in calm control was no longer a priority as the entire planet geared up for war. Mindful of their earlier success, the Alseans were laying mines all around their cities, only some of which were purpose-built. They didn’t have a stockpile of mines, nor enough time to manufacture what they’d need, so they were improvising with other explosives. Ekatya supplemented their supply with a quiet order to Roris to use the cargo printer, and now the Alsean cargo ships came for weapons rather than glass.
Manufacturing arms for the Alseans was certainly not part of Ekatya’s orders, but all evidence of their production would be atomized along with her ship. They were copies of the Alsean version, with no Fleet fingerprints on them, and Roris’s team would never breathe a word. If she could have disguised her missiles, she’d have handed them over as well, but there was no way to hide their Fleet origin. The Voloth would consider that a provocation, which was probably not the best way to start off a new peace treaty.
Kameha and Xi were kept busy prepping the Caphenon for its ultimate fate. The fusion core had been damaged during the crash and needed repairs before it could be initialized. Ekatya thought it was the height of irony that she had to repair her ship before she could blow it up. Since her team of engineers consisted of exactly two, those repairs took days. Even when Hmongyon and Mauji Mauji were released from the healing center, doubling the size of the repair team, Kameha estimated that they’d be done the day before the personnel ship arrived.
As always, he was accurate in his estimate, reporting the Caphenon ready late in the afternoon of their last day on Alsea. Less than an hour later, Admiral Tsao called in with the result of the Assembly vote. Ekatya took the call with a tiny spark of hope, but one look at the admiral’s expression quashed it. The only consolation was that a surprisingly large minority had voted against the deal.
The Voloth denied all knowledge of the hullskin-eating weapon, even when shown the visual evidence Candini had recorded of the Caphenon’s damage. That had been a source of great concern, with many Assembly ministers stating that the only prudent course of action was to give the Voloth what they wanted or risk having that weapon used in earnest. It wasn’t exactly a gun to the head, more like the unspoken threat of one. It had been enough. The arguments within Fleet had run hot, with the majority of officers opining that an appeasement policy was just asking for worse trouble in the future. Both Tsao and Ekatya agreed. Unfortunately, Fleet didn’t get a vote.
Ekatya gathered her crew in her temporary quarters, away from any Alsean eyes, and told them the news. It hit hard, and she spent some time letting them work through their anger and grief together. They’d been on Alsea just nine days, but it had been enough for all of them to feel that the Alseans were friends. When they finally drifted off to their own quarters, Ekatya popped the stopper on the bottle of spirits that appeared every day on her sideboard and drank half a glass in one gulp. Then she called Lancer Tal on her room’s vidcom.
That was the worst conversation she’d ever had, if only because the Lancer was so calm about it. She asked one more time for Ekatya’s aid, preferably by staying and fighting with her ship, but if not, then at least leaving the Caphenon for the Alseans to use. Ekatya felt like the lowest spit-mold in the galaxy when she refused. It only added insult to injury when she had to tell the Lancer to evacuate everything within twenty lengths of the ship. The explosion would be that devastating.
Unlike Lhyn, though, Lancer Tal was a warrior. She understood, and there were no more arguments, just a thank-you for all that Ekatya and her crew had done. When Ekatya signed off, she felt worse than ever.
She poured another glass and looked out the window, remembering her last fight with Lhyn. She’d tried to make her understand that sometimes it wasn’t a question of right and wrong; it was a question of wrong and more wrong. But Lhyn couldn’t see it, retorting that Ekatya was just rationalizing her own cowardice. That had only been the beginning of the harsh words they’d flung at each other, and Ekatya was truly regretting some of the things she’d said. Nor was tonight a good time to try to deal with it. Tomorrow morning they’d all gather at the shuttle, and forty-five minutes later they’d be rendezvousing with the personnel ship. After that she’d have days of travel time on a ship that was not her own, with almost nothing to do except reconcile with Lhyn.
She had a feeling she’d need every hour of it.
Chapter 44
Last chance
“I’m ready.”
Lhyn looked at her with a steady gaze that belied the turmoil of her emotions, and Tal respected her enough to pretend those emotions went unheard.
“Yes, you are,” she said. “You’re going to make quite a statement in those clothes.”
“A statement is all I have left to make. So it had better be a good one, right?”
Lhyn’s well-worn Gaian clothing was in a heap on the floor, and she was now dressed head to toe in formal wear suitable for a scholar attending a diplomatic function. The high-collared white shirt had bluestone buttons down the left side of the throat, complementing the dark blue vest that had arrived in a gift box from Lanaril. As Tal now knew, Lhyn had a special love for that silver embroidered molwyn design. The tree started just above the vest’s hem and extended up to her shoulders, its branches merging with the silver chain and clasp that held her matching half-cape. The entirety of the cape was covered with the same design, making for a striking look both front and back. The lighter blue pants had been tailored to fit her, and fell perfectly over shining low boots. With her hair up in a formal twist, she could have been mistaken for an Alsean from a distance.
“It will be,” Tal assured her, and held a hand toward the door. “Shall we?”
Lhyn swept past, clasping and briefly squeezing her hand as she went by. In the corridor, Micah, Gehrain, and ten more Guards formed a phalanx around them. Tal didn’t know what to expect when they met Captain Serrado, but she was making sure Lhyn could not be forced into anything.
They exited by the side door nearest the Gaian shuttle, where the Caphenon’s crew already waited, along with the High Council, Lanaril, Colonels Razine and Northcliff, and all of the base’s off-duty Guards who could fit themselves in the area. No matter how uncertain their future might be, no one wanted to miss the chance to see the alien shuttle depart.
Captain Serrado’s impatient worry was easily discernible even through all of the other Gaians’ emotions, as was her relief when she spotted Lhyn in Tal’s group. Then she saw the clothes and the protective, fully armed Guards, and for just a moment her face showed her horrified realization. A piptick later she wrestled herself under control and strode over.
“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded.
“I’
m not going,” Lhyn said.
“You’re what?” Commander Baldassar had followed his captain. “Of course you’re coming.”
“No, I’m not. I’ve asked Lancer Tal for permission to stay, and she said yes.”
“Lancer Tal’s permission is not the one you need.” Serrado’s voice was as hard as her expression. “You need mine, and I don’t give it. Commander, get the others on board.”
He hesitated, then nodded at Tal and her group. “Thank you for everything,” he said. “I’m sorry it has to end this way.”
“As are we, Commander.” Tal extended her hand and touched his palm. “Safe journey.”
“And to you.” He turned and walked back to the crew. “All right, everyone, let’s get on board.”
“But we didn’t get to say good-bye,” Candini complained. Others grumbled, but Tal couldn’t make anything else out as the group turned and began walking up the ramp to their shuttle door. When she looked back at the captain, she found an icy glare trained on her.
“You of all people should know that I have to do this,” Serrado said furiously. “Last night you certainly pretended that you did. And you know I don’t want to. Punishing me for obeying orders is not what I’d expect from the Lancer of Alsea.”
“Ekatya, stop it.”
Tal put a calming hand on Lhyn’s shoulder. “I’m not punishing anyone, Captain. I know you’re not staying. But Lhyn is, and that’s her choice.”
Serrado stared at her hand, and Tal suspected that if they hadn’t been surrounded by half the Guards on the base, she might be flat on her back right now. But when the captain lifted her eyes, all of that anger was channeled on Lhyn.
“It is not your choice. I’m in charge of this mission and I do not give you permission to stay behind on a planet that will be under Voloth control in a few days.”
“I don’t need your permission. I’m not part of your mission, remember? I wasn’t even supposed to be on your ship.” Lhyn stepped forward, pushing herself into the captain’s personal space. “And if you don’t want this planet to be under Voloth control, then shekking well do something about it!”
“So you’re making yourself a hostage? How dare you! I have ten people over there that I’m still responsible for, and three bodies that Candini and Baldassar just collected from the healing center. I can’t stay here because I want to, or you want to. I have to get them off this planet. I don’t have a choice.”
“You always had a choice. You just refuse to make it. Get them off the planet and come back.”
“I can have you dragged onto that shuttle.”
Tal thought she was just angry enough to try it.
“For what offense? Saying no to you? I’m a citizen of Allendohan, and I’ve broken no Protectorate law. You can’t force me.”
Serrado looked at the warriors surrounding them and shook her head. “You came prepared, Lancer Tal. I have to give you credit, you chose your ground well.”
“It’s not a battle.”
“I don’t know which is worse, that you’d lie about it or that you might actually believe it. You know what this will mean for her. How can you let her do it?”
“Because she asked me to.”
“And I’m standing right here, so stop talking about me like I’m some Shipper-damned possession that you’re fighting over. I made a choice. It’s mine to make. You have a choice to make as well.” Lhyn’s voice softened. “Please, please listen to me. You don’t have to go, and you don’t have to blow up the Caphenon. Take the crew off-planet, get them safe, and come back to us. Be the difference. You could change the fate of an entire civilization. Isn’t that why you went into Fleet? To be part of something bigger, to do something that mattered? You will never in your life have another opportunity like this. There will never be anything that matters as much as what you do right now.”
“You think changing the fate of five civilizations counts for nothing? Or making some sort of peace with the Voloth? I am doing something that matters. It’s just not the thing you think matters most. But you’re not the one who gets to make that determination, and neither am I.” She took a step back. “I have to go. This is your last chance.”
Lhyn stepped back as well. “I wish it were different. But I’m doing what I have to.”
“So am I.”
“No, you’re not. You’re doing what you think you have to.”
“It’s the same thing, Lhyn.”
None of the onlookers moved or made a sound as the two women looked at each other. Then Captain Serrado shook her head, turned around, and walked onto the shuttle.
Lhyn looked after her in shock. “I can’t believe it. She didn’t even say good-bye.”
“She couldn’t,” Tal said. “She wanted to, but she couldn’t. It would have broken her control.”
The shuttle door closed as its engines fired.
“Damn you warriors and your control.” A tear slid down Lhyn’s cheek and she reached for Tal’s hand, grasping it tightly as she watched the shuttle rise and turn. It hovered in place for a moment, then moved off and picked up speed, heading toward the Caphenon.
Chapter 45
Game of strategy
The shuttle was oppressively silent as they gained altitude. No one dared to speak, and Ekatya certainly wasn’t going to. Frankly, she was impressed that she’d managed to order Candini to lift off without her voice cracking.
She hadn’t even been able to say good-bye. Lhyn had sandbagged her in front of her crew and half of Alsea, and she couldn’t say anything without making an utter spectacle of herself. Lhyn must have known it. She didn’t want a good-bye.
Never would she have imagined Lhyn could do something like that. She was committing suicide, for all practical purposes, and had forced Ekatya to be a party to it. If her heart wasn’t so fucking broken, she’d be furious with her.
That would probably come later.
She was so caught up in her thoughts that she had no idea how far they’d gotten until Candini said, “Uh, Captain? We’ve got a problem.”
“What is it?” She straightened in the copilot’s seat and shook herself back to attention.
“Look.” Candini pointed, and at first Ekatya didn’t know what she was supposed to see. Then she sucked in a breath.
“That Shipper-damned, lying little—”
They were flying over the cordon of Alsean warriors around the Caphenon. The cordon that wasn’t supposed to be there, the one Lancer Tal had agreed to move back last night. She hadn’t evacuated the area. If Ekatya destroyed the Caphenon now, she’d kill a thousand Alsean warriors instantly, not to mention the civilians who still crowded just behind them, trying to get closer to the famous alien ship.
And there were a few farms scattered about as well. People living in their homes. People whose leader had just betrayed them, who were now living kasmet pieces in the most ruthless game of strategy Ekatya had ever played.
She still had her wristcom. They all did, just in case something went wrong. She nearly broke it while stabbing in the code for Lancer Tal.
“Yes, Captain?”
“Pull back your warriors!”
“I can’t do that. They’re protecting the best chance we have against the Voloth. I’m asking you not to take that away from us.”
“If you don’t pull them back, they’ll be vaporized in the next ten ticks.”
“If you do, that will be on your conscience.”
“For fuck’s sake, Ekatya! Don’t do it!”
She looked at her wristcom in horror. Of course Lhyn was hearing everything; why wouldn’t she be? She’d practically been in Lancer Tal’s arms when the shuttle had lifted off.
“Are you hearing me? There’s still time to do the right thing. It’s not too late.”
She punched the wristcom off. “Get us in position.”
“Yes, Captain.”
They flew on through occasional clouds, heading for a point directly over the Caphenon. She stared unseeingly through th
e front window, hearing Lhyn’s last words over and over.
It’s not too late, it’s not too late, it’s not too late…
But it was. It always had been.
The shuttle slowed and came to a hover. Candini tapped in a few last commands and said, “The laser is locked on. You can speak to the Caphenon.”
Ekatya opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Behind her she heard Baldassar’s voice.
“Caphenon, this is Commander Baldassar. Verify and respond.”
“Commander Baldassar, voiceprint verified,” said the distinctive voice of her ship. Ekatya felt a lump in her throat; she hadn’t heard that voice in ten days. Kameha had restored it only yesterday, for this exact purpose. To hear it now, at the moment of its destruction…
“Initiate self-destruct on a five-minute countdown.” Baldassar sounded perfectly calm. She envied him.
“Command recognized. Command code required.”
He rattled off his command code, and she idly noted that now he’d have to change it.
“Code recognized and verified. The captain’s command code is still required.”
“Ekatya, please!”
A shiver flashed down her spine. For a moment she would have sworn she’d heard Lhyn’s voice. Turning in her chair, she found Baldassar looking at her with upraised brows. Behind him the rest of her crew watched expectantly. Everyone was waiting for her to make the choice, here and on the ground.
A glance out the window showed a crystal clear blue sky with a few clouds far below. They were too high to see the Caphenon anymore, but she could almost feel her ship down there, halfway to a self-destruct confirmation. It was waiting for her too.
“Caphenon, this is Captain Serrado. Verify and respond.”
“Captain Serrado, voiceprint recognized. Do you wish to confirm the self-destruct?”
She met Baldassar’s eyes and said, “No. Cancel the self-destruct.”
He didn’t seem surprised.
“Command cancelled.”
The Caphenon Page 37
