17
“The target is on board,” Furyk said.
Beside the captain, Rykus let out the breath he’d been holding. Escaping from a relatively secured room in a building was one thing. Escaping from a planet whose entire military force was tasked with bringing you back in was something else entirely. How the hell did Ash keep pulling off those stunts?
“Return to the capsule,” Tersa ordered. “Tell the capsule’s captain to depart the system immediately.”
Furyk’s expression didn’t change, but the lack of animation betrayed how much he hated the minister prime being on his bridge.
“It’s already done,” Furyk said. “The Javerians are going to ask why we’re departing now.”
“I know.” Tersa cut a glance Rykus’s way like it was his fault. “Maybe we can convince them the hero of Gaeles Minor demanded it.”
Tersa had no right to call him that with such derision. None of this would have happened if she hadn’t insisted on this stop. She was responsible for this fiasco. She had jeopardized the Coalition’s relationship with Javery. She had put Ash’s life at risk.
Perhaps Tersa regretted her tone and words. After a few seconds, she deflated and a weariness pulled at her face and shoulders. She turned to the captain. “Can you assure me the Javerians didn’t pick up Ashdyn’s communication?”
Furyk watched the main viewscreen. His cheek twitched. “Teal.”
At the crypt console, a woman dragged herself out of her chair and approached. “Sir?”
The one-syllable inquiry was delivered carefully. It was as if the crypty was afraid that she’d do or say something in a way that was not to the liking of her captain and the whole ship would implode.
“The minister prime wants to know if the Javerians will decipher Ashdyn’s communication.” He didn’t take his gaze off the viewscreen.
Teal looked at Tersa. “Ashdyn didn’t contact us on a comm channel. She used a hexagonal form of on/off communication, disrupting a routine dega code in an auxiliary sequence.”
The prime stared blankly at the crypty.
“She manipulated a string of code in a layered operational database.” Teal tried again.
Tersa raised her eyebrows.
Furyk made a noise and turned. “Lieutenant Ashdyn signaled us with a technical glitch,” he explained.
When Tersa’s eyebrows remained raised, Furyk’s scowl deepened. “No. They won’t find evidence.”
Rykus suppressed a laugh.
“Very well,” Tersa said finally. “When the Javerians contact us, tell them we are leaving Lieutenant Ashdyn to their justice system and a Coalition-appointed attorney will arrive soon to represent her.”
“An outright lie,” Furyk murmured. “How innovative.”
Surprise lit Tersa’s face.
“It will be done,” Furyk said, his voice returning to its steady, authoritative clip.
Tersa’s expression smoothed, and she recollected her straight-backed, politician’s poise. “Keep Ashdyn out of sight until we exit the system. Get her to the med-bay somehow, then I want her in my office in one hour. Commander Rykus, you’ll be there then too.” She left before either man acknowledged her instructions.
“She acts of if she controls every time-bend,” Furyk said.
Rykus agreed with a grunt.
“A word in private before you go, Commander?”
He wanted to check on Ash, but he said, “I have a few minutes.”
He followed Furyk to the small conference room set off the bridge. An oval data-table took up the center of the room. Idle and gray viewscreens filled most of the walls, their monotony broken up only by a separate work alcove built into the left wall and a beverage bar built into the right.
“Coffee?” Furyk asked.
“Sure.”
Instead of going to the beverage bar, the captain pressed his thumb against a print-reader in a cabinet beside it. He opened the short door, then took out a tray that held a glass carafe and a few other items. A loud grinding noise filled the room when he pressed a button inside the cabinet.
Fresh coffee on board a Fleet warship? Furyk didn’t hit him as the type of officer to violate rules and protocol. He must have completed a shitload of formwork to get real coffee beans approved by Fleet admin.
“The anomalies are a problem,” Furyk said when the noise subsided.
“Anomalies?”
“Lieutenant Ashdyn and Specialist Teal.” He placed a filter in the glass funnel and set it atop the carafe.
“I didn’t realize Teal was an anomaly.”
“She was assigned to the Obsidian.” He scooped grounds from the coffee grinder into the funnel. “Briefly.”
“We were all briefly assigned to the Obsidian. I don’t remember hearing about a…”
Furyk looked over his shoulder, face expectant.
“If she was the crypty assigned to the Obsidian,” Rykus said, “then she… created a problem for Ash at Ephron.” That was an understatement. The one time Rykus convinced Ash to contact the Coalition after she escaped custody, Teal had broken her encryption and embedded a tracking code into her comm-cuff’s memory. Ash wasn’t a hothead like some anomalies, but she had her pride. If she’d run into Teal and put the pieces together, she’d make life difficult for the crypty.
Actually, Rykus thought, looking at the Kaelais’s captain, Ash must have already made the connection. Contacting the ship the way she did had obviously caused a problem for Teal.
“You don’t want to elaborate on that?” Furyk asked.
“I can’t.”
The captain turned back to his task, placing the funnel-topped carafe beneath the bar’s hot-water dispenser. When the rich, brown liquid began to drip through the filter, he faced Rykus and crossed his arms over his chest.
“I’m being kept out of the communication circuit. I don’t like it. Not having the details of the threat we face puts this ship and its crew in jeopardy.”
“I agree, but it’s not my call. The prime—”
“Tersa said I should talk to you and that your anomaly is the reason I’m being kept out.”
Rykus held back a curse. Tersa could have approved clearance for Furyk if she deemed it critical to the mission, but she wanted the existence of telepaths contained just as much as Ash did.
“I’ve already spoken out against the secrecy,” he said. “It hasn’t done any good, but I’ll try again.”
“I’d appreciate it.” The words hung in the air as Furyk removed the funnel from the coffee carafe and filled two mugs. The way Furyk moved, the set of his shoulders and grim line of his mouth, indicated he had something else he wanted to discuss.
He handed a mug to Rykus. “I need to know how to handle Specialist Teal.”
“What do you mean?” Rykus took two sugar cubes from the dispenser and a shot of cream, then settled into a chair at the data-table.
Furyk scowled at the coffee rippling in Rykus’s mug. “The auxiliary code your anomaly used to communicate with Teal is illegal on Fleet vessels. Teal was monitoring it. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have heard the lieutenant’s message. I have to presume Teal installed the code. I would send her to the brig and back to Meryk for a court-martial, but Admiral Bayis insists she remain here.”
“Because she’s the best crypty the Coalition has.”
“Supposedly.”
“She outmaneuvered Ash. I’ll vouch for the specialist being the best.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Furyk said. “If she remains here, I need her to follow orders. I need her to fall in line. How do you control Lieutenant Ashdyn?”
The coffee went down his throat wrong. He covered his cough with a fist. “I… I try not to.”
Furyk frowned.
“I’m her fail-safe,” Rykus said.
“She’s Caruth trained? I was under the impression no woman had graduated from the program.”
“Most people are,” Rykus said. “She’s the only one who’s completed it, and before
you ask, yes, she’s that good. She can take on most soldiers without a problem. Part of that is skill and training, but a significant percentage is also because her opponents underestimate her.” His thoughts went to Brookins. The man wouldn’t underestimate Ash again. Rykus needed to find a way to control the inevitable confrontation.
“What concerns you about Specialist Teal?” Rykus asked.
Furyk clasped his mug between his palms. “The auxiliary code for one thing. It shouldn’t have been there. The Kaelais protects herself from unpermitted sequences. For Teal to have embedded it in a routine patch means she’s convinced the AI to give her top-level admin clearance. I should be the only one on this ship who has that.”
“You don’t trust her?”
He took a sip of his coffee. “I do,” he said after a long pause. He almost sounded confused by his response.
Rykus’s fingers gripped the handle of his mug. He didn’t like the hesitation and the note of self-inspection in the captain’s voice. Furyk couldn’t be under the influence of a telepath, could he? Ash had met him. She’d walked the corridors of the ship just like she’d walked the corridors of the capitol, making sure no one tripped her mental alarm. They hadn’t known if she was reliable before, but they had more reason to believe she was now. She’d felt Caban Riddel in his father’s greeting hall.
But would Ash feel a drone?
“Have you ever seen an anomaly snap, Commander?” Furyk asked.
He had. Once. It had been a fucking messy ordeal.
“Anomalies usually only snap when they’re under a high amount of stress. That’s why only loyalty-trained anomalies are allowed in combat positions now.”
“That rule doesn’t apply to Fleet.”
“You think Teal is mentally unstable?”
Furyk stared at his coffee. “I think she’s dangerous.” He blew out a breath, expelling whatever it was that concerned him, then tapped on the data-table. Stars glittered across the surface. After a few more commands, the table zoomed in on a section of space. The red band outlining the area indicated it was Saricean controlled. That line was monitored by the Sariceans with the most advanced border-alert system in the KU.
“What can you tell me about the prime’s meeting?” Furyk asked.
“It’s a bad idea, and Tersa won’t back down from it.” Rykus moved his mug aside so he could see the full table.
Furyk’s eyes met his. “It’s suicidal.”
“She insists it’s not. My job is to make sure she’s right. We’re only being allowed a small team. Six people total. Ysbar Station is supposed to be abandoned.”
Furyk nodded and entered another command. An image of the station appeared. “Long-range spy satellites confirm no bio signs as of two years ago.”
“Two years?”
“We’ll do a real-time scan as soon as we exit the time-bend.”
“Assuming we go ahead with the mission,” Rykus said, “Trident Team will escort the prime to the station. We’ll meet Eminence Avesti and discuss peace.” Cynicism soaked the word. “If all goes well, everyone walks away alive. If it doesn’t go well, you blow the Sariceans’ station and ships straight to hell.”
Furyk arched an eyebrow. “Official orders?”
Rykus snorted. “No.” He took a sip of the coffee. Damn, fresh brew was good.
“I’ve been given command of the most advanced warship in the Coalition, and I’m ordered not to fire on the enemy.” Furyk shook his head. “It’s a waste. The meeting is a perfect opportunity to shake the prototype out of the stars.”
“Do you have a plan for destroying it?”
“I’d prefer to disable it,” Furyk said, “but no. I don’t know of a way of crippling the ship quickly enough to prevent it from initiating a time-bend. We need more intel.” He started to raise his cup to his lips, then stopped and set it down. “I might be able to get that intel if it shows up. Specialist Teal… I think she’s good enough to get into its systems undetected.”
Two months ago, Rykus had been in charge of an op designed to get that intel. The Coalition intended to launch a surprise attack on the Sariceans, and Rykus and a small team would have quietly infiltrated the shipyard where the prototype was being built. But the ship’s construction was ahead of schedule. Either that, or the Sariceans had launched it prematurely. Whatever the case, the prototype had appeared at Ephron and wreaked havoc on the planet and the Coalition Fleet. The op Rykus had been planning had been risky, but the ship would have been stationary. It wouldn’t be easy to gather intel on a ship that could disappear at will.
Not easy but also not impossible.
“It’s a good thing Teal’s on the Kaelais then,” Rykus said.
Furyk made a face. “That’s what they tell me. But I’m not sure she’s worth it even for that.” He stared at the mug on the data-table for a moment, then blinked and shook his head. “Anyway, the meeting. I don’t trust the Sariceans. After you make contact with the eminences, I intend to drift closer to the station.”
“And violate the no-go zone?” Rykus asked. That was a good way to ensure the war escalated.
“The Kaelais will experience an unfortunate technical glitch.” Furyk’s brief smile held no humor. “It wouldn’t stretch the imagination too much.”
No kidding. “Maybe the Sariceans will offer mechanical assistance.”
Furyk let out a short laugh. “I’m sure they’d love a closer look at us.”
“Well, I’d appreciate anything you can do to provide a quick extract.” Rykus pushed back from the table and stood. “Thanks for the coffee, and if you want my advice on Specialist Teal, I’d suggest finding a way to use her talents. Challenge her. Keep her mind occupied. But whatever you do, don’t let her know she’s getting to you.” He’d made that mistake too many times with Ash.
18
Tersa’s assistant let Ash into the prime’s office. Like most areas of Coalition warships, it was small and sparse: a single desk in the center with a sensible sitting area to the right of the door and a multipurpose section to the left that looked like it had last been used for some type of exercise. Ash had been informed Tersa would arrive in a few minutes, so she made herself comfortable in one of the padded chairs, propped her feet up on the short table, and took out her daytris-encased comm-cuff. They’d entered the time-bend. If the Javerians had installed a tracking code, it couldn’t communicate until they exited into real-space again.
She unlocked the screen and ran a diagnostics program. It wasn’t the most reliable way to determine if someone had accessed her cuff, but it would highlight any abnormalities it found, including the presence of a generic tracking code. While the program ran, she turned her attention to Trevast’s files. They were still there, still intact, still unbreakable as ever.
Ash toyed with the external layer of security. She’d almost lost the data and all her progress. That couldn’t happen again. She needed to know what Trevast had kept hidden. No more wasting time. She was good at doing the data-dance, but Specialist Kaylee Teal was better. Even Ash had to admit that. Teal might have a chance of breaking into the files this century. Ash just had to convince the crypty to help. And she had to trust her.
Ash was still considering the idea when Tersa’s office door opened again. She looked up from her cuff. Her stomach ignored the Kaelais’s gravity and leaped into her chest.
“Looking for someone, Rip?”
Rykus’s gaze shot her way. “Ash.”
“Have a seat.” She gestured to the chair beside her. “Make yourself comfortable.”
His gaze lingered on the padded furniture for a few seconds, then he stared at the two metal chairs sitting in front of Tersa’s desk. Ash watched his jaw clench and unclench, noted the tension in the way he stood, and she could practically see his reluctance making the gears in his head grind and catch as they fought what he wanted to do.
And she was certain now he wanted to come sit with her. To be with her. He’d confessed it down in the recyc tunnels; the
only problem was she still didn’t quite know how to deal with it.
Rykus’s shoulders straightened. He turned, then made his way to the sitting area. It looked like he was wading through thick, neck-deep water.
Ash slapped her comm-cuff on her wrist, and when her fail-safe dropped into the chair across from her—placing the short table between them like it was some kind of safety barrier—she slid her booted feet to the floor and leaned forward. She might not know how to deal with his words, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to deal with this.
“You should know Brookins is on board,” Rykus said.
Ash snapped her mouth shut. She frowned, trying to place the name. “Your XO? The anomaly?”
When he nodded, she lifted her eyebrows. “You’ve waited this long to give me the heads-up?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I kept you on separate schedules and opposite sides of the ship.”
“Oh, you mean he’s on the exact same schedule you set for yourself?” She stared into his dark eyes. He didn’t look away, didn’t offer an apology or deny that he’d avoided her as much as possible.
Leaning back, she folded her arms. “Anything else I need to know?”
He shook his head, silent, solemn, and so damn serious. Closing her eyes, she leaned against the seat back and tried not to lose her composure. His confession in the recyc tunnel had rattled her. Now everything was beginning to frustrate her—the side quest to Javery, the lack of progress breaking into Trevast’s files, the bruidium wall she ran into whenever she and Rykus were together. She could feel her self-control fraying. It was a dark, red haze that threatened to push her over the edge. Only two things kept her from falling: the loyalty training and pure fucking willpower.
“When was the last time you slept?” Rykus asked.
Ash opened her eyes. “Is that an invitation?”
“It’s a question.”
“Make it an invitation, and I’ll answer.”
He lowered his head to rub the bridge of his nose, and Ash’s hands curled into fists. She wanted things to be like they were on the Fortune’s Citadel, no barriers between them.
Shades of Honor (An Anomaly Novel Book 2) Page 17
