Confluence

by S. K. Dunstall

  They didn’t mention the other issue. Emperor Yu and Abram. Ean knew they weren’t going to.

  Everyone went silent for a moment. Even the ship went quiet.

  “Emperor Yu has already made news of the engagement public,” Vega said.

  Through the lines, Ean heard the green snap of Abram making a decision. “Give them something else to think about. Something they’ve been asking for a while. Let’s send the Eleven on a mission.”

  “Is she ready?” Helmo asked.

  “When is ready? We won’t send her into a full battle situation. Not yet anyway. A skirmish somewhere, a small battle to show the power of the Eleven.”

  The song of the Lancastrian Princess lifted. There was hope in the tune now.

  “Gate Union attacked the mining colonies at Aratoga two hours ago. The Aratogans are defending,” Abram said. “As you can imagine, they’re severely limited with the jumps they can get.”

  Fighting a war when the enemy controlled the jumps was no way to win. The Gate Controllers would deny any New Alliance jumps direct from Aratoga to the war zone. The Eleven didn’t need a controlled jump—at least, Ean was sure it didn’t—but no one was prepared to test it. Maybe this time Abram and Kari Wang would let him do it.

  “And how do we get a jump for the Eleven?” Vega asked.

  “We don’t,” Ean said. “We trust that the Eleven won’t jump into space occupied by another ship.”

  Silence greeted his words.

  “We switched the Eleven and Confluence Station yesterday. That’s a tiny jump window, compared to what we usually have.”

  “We also knew where both ships were,” Helmo said. “I won’t risk a cold jump. Kari Wang won’t either.”

  Marcus Helmo was not a man who scared easily, yet he had a deep-seated fear of jumping cold. That fear was starting to freeze the Lancastrian Princess lines right now.

  “They’ve done it before. If you listen to your ship, you’ll be safe,” Ean said to Helmo.

  “Can you guarantee 100 percent—absolutely 100 percent—that we won’t jump into another ship?”

  Could he? If he was wrong, he condemned everyone on the Eleven to death. He didn’t want that. “We need a jump, then.”

  Abram bought jumps on the black market. It was an expensive business, and fraught with danger, for eventually the Union of Gate Worlds would realize what the marketeer was doing. There was always the worry that this time, the jump would be a setup, and they’d be sent into another ship, or into an asteroid.

  Abram checked his comms. “The only one I have in the next two hours is close to Roscracia.”

  Two hours. Abram planned for them to go right now.

  Michelle managed to laugh. “That would go down well. Why, hello Admiral Markan,” for Roscracia was a populous Gate Union world, and home to Markan, who headed the Gate Union war effort. “We’re just dropping by to get a jump.”

  “Actually”—Abram’s eyes gleamed—“it might work. Are we likely to be refused a jump from Roscracia? Especially if Ean taps into one of the military ships there and uses that to request it.”

  It was even safe, for they knew Ean could control the lines on other ships.

  “You are certifiably crazy, you know that.” But Helmo was grinning. “It’s insane enough to work.”

  Abram reached for his comms.

  “Might I remind you,” Vega said. “You are taking our only level-twelve linesman into the heart of enemy territory. A member of Her Royal Highness’s personal staff. Someone from whom that same enemy recently tried to get information.”

  “They’ll only be there long enough to get another jump,” Abram said. “The jump window we have is for a civilian ship. It won’t be anywhere near the warships.”

  The captain of the Eleven came up on the comms.

  “Captain Kari Wang, we are deploying the Eleven to the incident at Aratoga. Linesman Lambert will accompany you. We’ll send you a situation report and plan of action. Execute it as soon as the linesman is on board.”

  “Not that I like losing our twelve,” Helmo said. “I would prefer Lambert stayed here.”

  At least Helmo thought Ean was part of the Lancastrian Princess crew.

  Vega had taken out her comms as well. “Bhaksir, you and your team are assigned to active duty on the Eleven. Protecting Linesman Lambert. Prepare to move out in five.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Through the lines, Ean heard Bhaksir call up the rest of her team on Confluence Station and relay those orders.

  Ean stood up. When they made decisions around here, they moved fast.

  “Ean,” Abram said. “You know what you have to do?”

  “Use another ship’s comms to book a jump.” It would be so much easier to jump to Aratogan space. He forced himself not to rub his palms down his sides. He wished Radko were here. It wasn’t a hard job. He’d listened in to other ships’ comms before. He’d stopped them firing on the Lancastrian Princess.

  “Choose a military ship, if you can. They’ll get jumps fast.”

  Ean nodded.

  “And don’t, whatever you do, sing the enemy ship into the fleet.”

  “I’ll try not to.” He couldn’t promise something like that.

  Sale, Bhaksir, and Craik had discussed at length how lucky they’d been with Wendell and Gruen. Wendell had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and his home world of Wallacia had branded him and his crew traitors. Wendell had no love for either side, but the New Alliance let him keep his ship, and that was the most important thing to him. As for Gruen—she had left the Roscracian military after Admiral Markan had refused to get back her captured ship. They wouldn’t be lucky a third time. If Ean sang a Gate Union military ship into the Eleven’s fleet and they kept the captain on, he’d be singing a spy into their midst.

  “Thank you.”

  Michelle stopped him. “Take care.”

  “You too, Michelle.” And Ean smiled at her. “Everything will work out.” He didn’t mean just the upcoming battle, which he deliberately wasn’t thinking about.

  “What happens if Lambert mucks up?” Vega asked.

  The smile in Abram’s tone was reflected by a red-mint-cinnamon spurt of amusement from Michelle. “Ean can be unconventional, but he usually manages.”

  At least it had stopped that awful worry that had been circulating through the ship earlier.

  Abram opened his comms again. “Galenos here. Get me Admirals Orsaya, Katida, and MacClennan.”

  They were the other admirals in the Alien Affairs Department of the New Alliance, which was the department in charge of the alien ships. Abram would have to get their agreement to run this trial. Or did Abram, being in charge, decide, and just tell them?

  “Battle.” The song of the Eleven was pleased. “Fight.”

  Sometimes the ships seemed a little bloodthirsty to Ean. He forgot they had been warships.

  And behind all that, the thread of a sad whisper from the Confluence. “If we had a crew, we could fight, too.”

  SIX

  DOMINIQUE RADKO

  ON THE SHUTTLE, Radko received another package of data from Vega.

  Radko was tapping out a careful set of instructions for Bhaksir:

  Just because he wears the uniform, don’t expect Ean to know everything. He hasn’t had the training. Explain things. He doesn’t think like a soldier; he thinks like a line. Lines don’t think the way we do.

  She paused over the SEND button, and deleted it instead. The team would cope perfectly well without her. Ean would, too. Then took a moment to compose herself before she opened Vega’s message.

  OneLane’s shop is in the FourDogs district of Bane, the largest city on Satan’s Gate.

  Satan’s Gate was the main Redmond world. Radko had spent time in Bane, even knew of the FourDogs district althoug
h she’d never been there. It was a well-to-do area full of high-class boutiques and antiques shops. She pulled up images to view the address Vega had supplied.

  The shop had a narrow entry, with artfully displayed artifacts in the window. The window was crisscrossed with a grating that glowed a soft blue around the edges. A security field. Whatever OneLane had in there, she liked it well protected. Radko saw four cameras at the front of the shop, and although she couldn’t see the back, they would be there, somewhere.

  A discreet plaque on the wall advertised LoneField Security—one of the best in the business.

  Radko turned back to Vega’s comms.

  You have a team of three. They’ll join you on the freighter to Shaolin.

  Theodora van Heel works in surveillance. She has worked in intelligence for twenty years, the last six behind a desk. She is a class hacker and can break into most systems. A reliable person when you need to break into a system or to cover your tracks, but every year she is called in for remedial target practice. That, and her level of fitness, are the main reasons she is behind a desk rather than in the field.

  Bless Vega for telling her the important things she needed to know about the people she was working with.

  She is the only one of your team who has worked off world before.

  Yves Han is military police. He works in the main barracks at Baoshan.

  Han was a high-caste Lancastrian family name. Combined with a French first name like Yves, his family would move in the same circle as hers. In which case, Radko knew him. Renaud Han’s son.

  She brought up the image. The resemblance to Renaud was strong. Yves Han was three years older than Radko. She’d last seen him when she was nine, and he’d been twelve. Her family had been visiting the Hans and she’d found Yves Han standing over his tutor—seventy years old if he was a day—forcing the old man’s hand onto the red-hot heat supply of the furnace.

  The tutor screamed as Yves forced his hand down.

  “Stop that now,” Radko commanded.

  Yves had laughed at her. “Go away, little girl. Keep out of things that don’t concern you.” He’d pushed the tutor’s arm down again.

  So she’d beaten him up.

  She was the one who’d gotten into trouble. Yves had needed regen, and the tutor claimed he’d burned his own hand. She hadn’t seen Yves since. He’d tested high on the Havortian tests and taken up the offer of an apprenticeship from one of the big cartel houses.

  Yet she’d always liked Yves’s parents. Even though Renaud and Amina Han were part of the Emperor’s inner circle, they always had time for the Emperor’s aunt, and for the almost-forgotten young cousin.

  Radko frowned at the image. The boy she’d known had bordered on sadistic or worse. She hoped fleet training had knocked some of his nastiness out of him. He definitely wasn’t someone she’d ever introduce Ean to, linesman or not.

  I have worked with Han before, back when I spent two years as a captain on Baoshan. I found him reliable and easy to work with. A good man to have at your back.

  He didn’t sound like the Yves Han she remembered.

  Radko turned to the last name.

  Arun Chaudry is six months out of training. His psychiatrist says he has a death wish. Joined the fleet to get himself killed.

  The preliminary psych tests should have picked that up.

  They put him in Stores—on base—where he’ll never see combat. His group leader is surprisingly protective of him, says he’s lost and needs to find something he can do.

  Radko flipped the name to see who the group leader was and wasn’t surprised to find it was Lee Toll.

  Van Heel was the only person with any experience in this kind of work. As for the other two—a man who might or might not like power over others and a man with a death wish. Did Vega believe they were dispensable? Or was there something more?

  The something more came on the next line.

  Yves Han trained ten years at House of Sandhurst. Theodora van Heel, seven years, House of Xun. Arun Chaudry, six years, House of Isador. Van Heel and Chaudry failed certification.

  According to Ean, six years was the absolute minimum for a line apprenticeship. The apprentices started in their teens—although a cartel master would take them earlier if they showed real promise—and couldn’t be tested until they were seventeen. The ones the cartel masters thought would fail were tested early. Van Heel and Chaudry probably hadn’t shown much ability.

  Vega hadn’t said how old they were, but Radko could guess from their images that van Heel had trained a generation earlier than Chaudry.

  I need to know what lines they are and if they are suitable for line training.

  Han certified as an exceptionally strong seven but received head injuries in an accident not long after certification. The doctors say there is nothing physically wrong with him, but after the trauma, he lost any line ability. I want you to assess whether Lambert may be able to fix his line problem.

  * * *

  THE only ships getting jumps to and from Lancia nowadays were unaffiliated merchants. Mostly small, second-class freighters, and right now they were making a fortune. The ship was crowded. Every ship leaving Lancia was.

  Radko didn’t have a cabin. There was a netted-off area in the bar to stow her kit, for she and her team would leave the ship in four hours.

  Them and a hundred others.

  She recognized Yves Han immediately. He stood like a member of one of the Great Families, as if he expected people to move around him, rather than him to move around them. Sometimes, Radko knew, she did that herself.

  She pushed forward to stand beside him. “Han.”

  If he remembered the last time they’d met, it didn’t show. “Team leader.” Or maybe he’d had time to decide to ignore the memory. Vega must have sent their names through to the whole team—without the other identifying information Radko had received—or otherwise he wouldn’t have recognized Radko. That was unusual for by-the-book Vega. Radko had a code she could use to identify herself to the other three. That was what she would normally use on an operation like this.

  The title felt strange, and not something she planned on getting used to. She liked the job she had.

  “This is crazy crowded,” Han said. “I hope we arrive safely.”

  She tapped in the identifying code and touched her comms to Han’s. Identity established. “Yes,” she said, and looked around. “Somewhere in this crowd, we’ve two other people.”

  Her comms chimed. Van Heel.

  “Never mind,” van Heel said, when she answered. “I can see you. I’m nearby.” She pushed through the crowd. “This overcrowding. It’s dangerous.”

  It would get worse before it got better. Unless Ean could convince the New Alliance to jump cold.

  As Radko touched her comms to van Heel’s to establish identity, the bell chimed to signify the ship was about to enter the void. She paused and looked around to be sure her charge was safe this time. Weird things happened around jumps.

  But, of course, Ean wasn’t there.

  She waited until they jumped, then went back to her comms. No one else had noticed; no one else cared. She’d forgotten how normal jumps were on other ships.

  The public address blared over the top of her attempt to contact Chaudry. “All passengers leaving at Shaolin please assemble at the shuttle bays. Be sure to collect all luggage prior to disembarking.”

  “That’s us,” Radko said, and thumbed the comms open to the other member of her team. “Chaudry. This is team leader Radko. We’ll meet you at the shuttle bays.”

  “That’s early,” Han muttered. “Can’t wait to get rid of us, obviously.”

  Personally, Radko couldn’t wait to get off the ship.

  They found Chaudry standing, arms crossed, in the middle of the shuttle queue. He wasn’t much taller than anyone else, but h
e was wider. His arms were bare, and the muscles bulged. Despite the crowd, people moved a long way around him.

  “He’s enough to scare anyone’s grandmother,” Han said.

  Radko frowned at him.

  “Arun Chaudry,” Han said.

  Chaudry narrowed his eyes. “Who’s asking?”

  “I wasn’t asking, I was identifying.” Han gave a half bow. “Your teammate, Yves Han, and with me I have Theodora van Heel and Team Leader Radko.”

  “I need a code,” Chaudry said.

  Radko tapped in the code and touched her comms to his.

  Han had names and images to identify the team. So had van Heel. Chaudry hadn’t. “I’m surprised you know us all,” Radko said to Han. “I only got them on my comms as I was coming out here.”

  Van Heel was a hacker. If she was as good as Vega said, then she could find out who she was working with. But Han? He was a policeman on base.

  “I have contacts.”

  “I see.” Radko made a mental note to let Vega know. Military police shouldn’t have been able to get that detail.

  Han watched her face. “I like to know what I’m getting into. And we do have orders on our comms.”

  “Those orders shouldn’t be something you can get from your contacts.” Radko looked around at the crowd waiting to exit the shuttle. “We’ll discuss it when it’s more private.”

  * * *

  RADKO’S team was directed to a small, eight-man shuttle. They were the only passengers for Barth, the fourth-largest spaceport on Shaolin.

  “We get people like you every four, five trips,” the pilot said. “They think because it’s busy and on the southern end of the continent, it’s a good place to come if you need to go south. But there’s nothing but cargo sheds. Passengers don’t usually get off here. Most people go on to San See and take an aircar across the continent.”

  Which was why their equipment was stored at Barth. “It’s close to where we need to go,” Radko said. “And provided we can hire an aircar, does it matter if there’s nothing there?”