by Wen Spencer
Hardin had fled to the largest trap he could find and laid in wait for the chase to begin. If Mikhail was Hardin, he'd leave the IFF operating so his enemy could track him into the trap and then disable it.
"Ensign, lock onto the Red Gold's IFF and monitor it for fluctuations."
"Sir?" Moldavsky looked mystified.
"We're going to contact the Red Gold. They're either going to turn off their IFF or move it to an onshore location."
"Shouldn't we . . .. just wait for them to move?"
Mikhail shook his head. "The IFF might not really be on board the Red Gold any more. We tapped it from Fenrir's Rock once already. Hardin might have gone to Mary's Landing and set up his IFF there and left already."
"Oh, I see."
"If it shifts, that means that Hardin is at Mary's Landing now and that he is using it as a trap."
Moldavsky nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Once you have a lock, hail the Red Gold and tell them that I want to talk to Hardin."
"Yes, sir."
Mikhail waited, hoping that he was misreading the situation and that Hardin had simply panicked in the face of the destruction at Fenrir's Rock. Leveling a human town and killing off countless civilians by accident might have made the man nervous, wary of accountability and repercussions. Operating under United Colonies orders, Mikhail could have represented the face of the law. Perhaps.
"This is the Red Gold," Hardin's ship answered Moldavsky query.
"Captain Volkov of the N.V. Svoboda wishes to speak with Captain Hardin."
"Stand by."
Ensign Moldavsky killed her microphone and then spoke quietly even though there was no chance that the Red Gold could hear her. "Sire, the signal just jumped. They've moved the IFF, and are now putting me through to Hardin."
Mikhail nodded grimly. The chase was on.
"Svoboda, please establish a secure channel," Red Gold requested.
Hardin didn't want the Sargasso to learn what Mikhail was about to lay bare. Mikhail considered denying a secure channel. The conversation was sure to be tantamount to stalemate. Denying the secure channel would be tipping his hand that he knew that Hardin counted on Mikhail using the IFF to find the Red Gold.
"Secure the line." Mikhail ordered.
"Volkov, you want to speak with me?" Hardin came on the line after the secure channel was established.
Mikhail flicked on his microphone. "Yes, I did Hardin. My orders are from Director Heward of United Colonies Defense. Unless you've reneged all claims to citizenship to the New Washington Colonies, you are required to assist me in fulfilling my orders."
"And those orders being?" Hardin said.
"To find UCS Fenrir, investigate how its engine ended up at Plymouth Station without the Fenrir and return with a report."
"That last part is a little tricky, isn't it?"
"I've ascertained that you were the force behind the engine modification. You paid for all the parts from Ya-ya's salvage yards. I have part numbers on the engine at Plymouth Station and your name on receipts here. It's a very clear trail, Hardin. At this time, it would be pointless to deny your involvement."
"You have no idea what pointless is. Mikhail Ivanovich Volkov. Son of Tsar Ivan. Clone to Victor the great. A copy, no a parody of Peter the Great; the man was dark-haired for God's sake. The man died over six hundred years ago and people are still so much in awe of him that they recreated him. Every person in that root-bound family tree of yours has achieved immortality. The moment you were born, you became a footnote in history. You'll be remembered even if you fail at everything you do. Pointless is to live a life that's totally unrecorded. To be born, exist, and die to vanish away as if you never breathed air."
Mikhail hadn't expected the conversation to take this direction. "But you live it. You exist. Isn't that the real point of life?"
"To claw and claw and claw until you finally die?" Hardin asked. "My family so obscure that I can't even find records of them living. My grandfather died poor and went into a mass grave without so much a marker. My father's life goal was to be buried in a proper plot—and he failed. They tore down the housing project I grew up in and put new projects up. If I die here, no one will know I ever lived."
"You go back, you're a hero?" Mikhail guessed.
"I'll be Christopher Columbus. I'll be Captain Cook. I'll be Magellan. Now there's fame—don't even need the first name."
"You've done all the technical groundwork. You know the world. You'll be credited . . ."
Hardin laughed. "You stupid fuck. I know what will happen—what has happened over and over again. I become a non-entity around you. I was the star of the academy. The smartest. The brightest. The one everyone expected huge things from. And then you came. It was like a black hole set down on campus. You were the only thing anyone could think about. Every appearance. Every disappearance. Every success. Every failure. I thought I escaped you when I was posted to the Dakota, and then it came through the grapevine—you'd picked my ship. And I could see starting all over again. You were all they wanted to talk about. I had to keep you off the Dakota or I'd never make it beyond lieutenant as long as you were onboard."
"Keep me off?"
"I heard rumors that you were in the academy only to repair your reputation of being slightly reckless. I dug into your past and I found all your dirty little secrets. Not enough to keep you out of the service, but there was an instability that everyone was overlooking. So I hacked the placement system and made it look as if High Command had serious concerns over your sanity. It triggered more extensive psych evaluation than normally is given a cadet. But failing it . . .that was all you."
Mikhail clenched his jaw against any retort. Hardin was trying to work him into a rage. It confirmed his suspicions that Mary's Landing was a trap.
"Sir, they've cut the connection," Ensign Moldavsky said. "Should I try to get them back?"
"No."
Hardin could now wait or move without Mikhail being able to tell where his opponent really was. Moldavsky could return to the Yamagouchi and try to keep visual, but Hardin probably would wait until a storm front to move between them.
The Red Gold might be bait but it wasn't the target. Mikhail had to keep focus on that. The technical crew that did the modifications to the engine was the true target. Even thinking of them as such made him uneasy; this all might end with the technical crew dead. He and Hardin were squaring off in a battle to see which of them would return to normal space. To 'win' Mikhail would need to invade a human settlement in order to take civilians by force.
Was his action justified? He'd promised Captain Bailey to claim Georgetown as a N.V. colony and put it under the empire's protection. If Hardin had been right—that the Sargasso was a safe haven from the nefrim—then the needs of Geogetown were outweighed by those of humanity. But the seraphim were nefrims and there was something going on that Mikhail didn't understand. How could he decide what was the most appropriate path without knowing all the elements?
In the end, it weighed all on what the seraphim were attempting to do.
The Hak had told Captain Bailey that the seraphim were the "enlightened" members of their race, which they knew now were the nefrim. Something had happened to the nefrim and they were regressing. If Mikhail understood the religion correctly, an enlightened being was peaceful and saintly; "Angel" was not far from the truth. The regressed nefrim were the ones attempting to wipe out the human race. Were the seraphim attempting to stop the regression? Were they trying to return their race to something more civilized? If they were successful, could that mean the end of the senseless war?
But the Hak had warned that if the humans didn't listen to the seraphim closely, they could make things worse. Worse for who? For the seraphim? For the nefrim? Or for the humans?
Most importantly, how closely had Hardin listened? Had he made the connection between the seraphim and the nefrim? Was he even acting as an agent for the "angels" or was that something that only Ethan Bailey cared about?
Mikhail felt that the latter was probably the truth. Oust had reported that Hardin was mistreating his daughter Evangeline because she was a Blue; it was doubtful that Hardin would see Ethan Bailey as any more significant.
Ethan Bailey had started the whole chain of events. He had been listening closely to the seraphim. Whatever he heard, made him start into the engine modifications, so it stood to reason that the seraphim wanted to return to normal space.
Mikhail wondered how they had communicated this to Ethan. He couldn't imagine a language developed from anything they forced him through, unless it was a message full of grief and loss.
Mikhail paused. Grief and loss. Every single memory the seraphim had put Mikhail through had revolved around having lost something precious to him. The Hak had indicated that a single event had divided the nefrim and started the process of regression. Could the event have been simply losing something in the Sargasso?
Mikhail couldn't imagine one item that could have such a profound affect on a race. But then, before coming to the Sargasso, he wouldn't have been able to guess that he'd meet aliens like the Hak and the seraphim. He reminded himself to keep an open mind.
Ethan planned to have the Rosetta and the Lilianna salvage a nefrim ship off of minotaur waters. Was the seraphim's lost item, the salvation of their race, still there? Was that why the seraphim were hounding Mikhail?
He had too many questions and not enough answers. Before he waded into battle with Hardin, he would need to be sure that he was doing the right thing.
* * *
Mikhail explained the problem to Captain Bailey. She had knowledge of the world that he lacked. "Taking the Svoboda to Mary's Landing would be true suicide and perhaps totally pointless. Hardin might have taken your brother and everything involving the engines and left."
They were sitting on a shaded part of the Rosetta's deck. Or to be more specific, he was sitting, while Captain Bailey was laying on her back, eyes close, concentrating on what he was saying. Between them, a picture of lemonade sweated in the heat, almost forgotten. The rest of her crew were apparently out enjoying their last day in Ya-ya.
"Hmmm," Bailey said after long silence. "The minotaurs have a load of engine parts they're delivering to Mary's Landing. It's possible that Mary's Landing has taken over the project. Hardin might not be able to pry it out of their hands."
"Can you guess?"
"I get a strong feeling that Ethan went to Mary's Landing from Fenrir's Rock as an attempt to escape Hardin."
"I see." Mikhail hadn't considered that. It made sense though if Ethan was rebelling against Hardin's control even in Ya-ya.
"Ethan is as good as I am at weighing options. Mary's Landing is fairly unknown to me, but through his dealings with Hardin, he could have learned a great deal more. So it's possible that his assumptions are correct. Mary Landing can protect him from Hardin. But the deciding factor might be Eraphie."
"Eraphie?"
"You said that Hardin worked hard to lure her to him. I think he planned to use her as leverage for Ethan, knowing that he couldn't pry Ethan out of Mary's Landing without Ethan cooperating."
That too made a great deal of sense. "Would it work? Would Ethan go back to Hardin to keep Eraphie safe?"
The ice shifted in the pitcher, reminding Bailey of its presence. She sat up and poured them both a glass.
"I would like to think he would," Bailey said after sipping her lemonade. "The brother I think I know is a self-centered prick, but he wouldn't allow any allow anyone to hurt his younger cousin anymore than he'd let someone hurt Hillary. It depends on how deep of waters he sunk himself as to whether he can swim clear of Mary's Landing. And Hardin wouldn't have taken Eraphie unless he knew that he couldn't bully Mary's Landing into just handing over Ethan."
They hadn't been able to maintain visuals on the distant settlement, so there was no way of telling if the three-way power struggle had disintegrated into gunfire. Perhaps Hardin was trying to lure Mikhail to Mary's Landing to distract them from Ethan. As it stood, though, it was impossible to tell who was victorious.
He'd already guessed that their only option would be to send a spy into Mary's Landing. He'd hoped that she would prove him wrong; Turk was the person best suited to act as a spy. He didn't want to lose Turk again.
"Are there passenger ships that can take Turk to Mary's Landing in a timely fashion?" Mikhail asked.
'Turk?" She gave him a hurt look. When he nodded, she swallowed down the hurt and considered his question. "I don't think that will work. We don't have ships just for passengers—the Queen Mary IV had been. We might be able to find some Ya-ya cargo ships with cabins for passengers; but most have crews that don't speak any Standard. If anything went wrong, he wouldn't be able to communicate with the crew, and he couldn't arrange for passage back to Ya-ya. Besides, Mary's Landing requires adapted to be registered when a ship sails in their harbor. That includes proof of ownership; which is insane since most people are born free."
"What about a ship from one of the New Washingtonian landings?"
Captain Bailey shook her head. "Anything here in Ya-ya will be heading home when they leave. Only Mary's Landing and Ya-ya ships will be going back and forth between the two—and you don't want him on a Mary's Landing ship. You don't."
Mikhail looked past Captain Bailey at the minotaur ship. "Hoto is heading to Mary's Landing?"
"You can't Turk alone on the minotaur ship."
"Not alone. Any human ship we use, we run the risk of being betrayed by the crew. The minotaurs owe us."
"That's a dangerously human way of thinking."
"All right. That's true. But they have no reason to betray us either."
Captain Bailey considered for several minutes and then nodded slowly. "You're asking a lot of us, Grandpa."
Mikhail had thought he couldn't feel worse. He was wrong. "I know. I'm sorry."
* * *
Mikhail hated the plan. Loathed it to his core, but there wasn't a better one, short of turning their backs on all of humanity and settling down to learn how to fish.
The Rosetta was the first to leave, taking advantage of clear weather. Orin was acting captain, as Paige was going to Mary's Landing with Turk. The Rosetta was heading for minotaur waters to do the salvage on the seraphim ship. Mikhail equipped them with tracking devices and extra radios so they couldn't fall out of contact.
The minotaurs were delayed by the wounded little female, Zo. They lingered in port for a week, waiting for her leg to heal enough to take the ocean seas. Finally they announced that they were heading out. The time had come to say goodbye.
Turk surprised Mikhail by suddenly hugging him. "Don't you implode while my back is turned."
Mikhail laughed into Turk's shoulder. "I'll be fine."
"Promise me."
Mikhail realized then that Turk really meant 'if I don't come back' and sobered. "I'll be fine."
"Promise." Turk tightened his hold on him to nearly painful, as if he was afraid Mikhail would self-destruct right there. "You could make a good life here, Mikhail, if you had to. Marry a Blue, settle down, have a passel of kids. Viktor made it work."
Obviously Turk hadn't heard the end of Viktor's story.
"Oh, no, I don't want you thinking you can go getting yourself killed." Mikhail hugged him hard and then pushed him away. "Just come back and everything will be fine."
22
Mary's Landing
Paige had insisted that the weather was mild as they sailed to Mary's Landing. If the gray heaving waves and dark overcast skies were "mild" Turk decided he truly loathed the ocean. They were apparently sailing through a trailing edge of a storm. In the direction of the spin, they could still see the black skies and flickers of lightening from the front. Clouds and waves, though, obscured Mary's Landing.
They were nearly at the settlement before Turk laid eyes on the infamous wrecked cruise ship. Surprisingly, they sailed out of the storm and into crystalline waters. From the bow of the minotaur ship, Turk
studied the landing in awe. He'd seen pictures of the Queen Mary IV taken of when it was in space. It took the cruise liner being in the ocean and sailing toward it like a water bug to grasp the full size of it.
The massive female figurehead towered above the water, seeming undamaged by the crash. Even her great feathered wings were intact. A blend of the British queen and Nike, the goddess of victory, the figurehead serenely gazed out over the water as if confident that humans could conquer this place under her guidance. She stood in the shallow water, waves covering her feet. The mile long, thirty story high hull of the Queen Mary flowed out behind her as the train of her dress. The ceramic alloy gleamed pale white with the surf rippling bright reflections over the wings and dress.
Turk wondered what the aliens of the Sargasso made of this giant human goddess stranded in water?
She was a heavily armed goddess too. Her people had created a wide harbor and then a ring of man-made islands with gun batteries, a reef-filled moat, and then a series of breakwaters to defend their ship from storms and attackers.
Hoto stomped up, bellowing and gave Paige a rough shove toward the hatch down into the living area. Paige rolled off the shove and blushed furiously at whatever Hoto was saying.
"What is it?" Turk slid between Hoto and Paige. He knew exchanging blows was the only way that bulls socialized. They only hit each other after they built up some sort of rapport. And having watched Hoto muscle around heavy equipment, it was obvious that the male was not truly hitting Paige as hard as he could. But Turk hated the way the bull so causally smacked Paige around; when Turk could do it without interfering, he made it a point to block Hoto.
"He says the pilot boats are coming." Paige's blush went deeper, but she smiled and she quickened her step. "It's time for us to hide."
Hoto was chasing the calves down below too.
"And what else?" Turk asked.
She was grinning fully now. "That I should take my protective bride downstairs and service her until she's a good, docile female. He says based on what he's seen, I'm obviously letting you on top too much."
