By the time the fleet returned to Eris, Gabe had overseen the repairs to his damaged rigs. All four of the CTRs had earned fairly severe damage during the battle, but the Foundry had more than enough repair capability to restore them to their original specs. The other six rigs had taken next to no damage at all, which meant that their frames had actually been operational in far less time. For the first time, there had been no casualties among his pilots, and that was more than enough reason to celebrate.
The cruisers had made some small amount of repairs as well. None of the escorts had taken damage, but both Foundry and Healing had needed a small amount of work done. Deliverance had been the hardest hit of all the ships, but many of the damaged armor plates had been replaced. There was still quite a bit of internal damage, however. Some of the enemy fire had managed to breach her compartments, venting atmosphere into space and disrupting vital circuitry. That sort of damage would take a while longer to fix.
More difficult to dismiss from his mind were the people who had been trapped in those compartments. A few had managed to survive, using emergency masks and their survival suits to hold out until rescue parties had reached them. Most had not.
It was the first time he had ever seen those kinds of casualties in ship-to-ship combat. Nearly thirty people had lost their lives, and they represented only a small fraction of the thousand or so crew members serving onboard the cruiser. Had Deliverance been lost, things would have been much, much worse. It would have been a catastrophe simply trying to arrange for the funerals and dealing with the mourning.
Nevertheless, he had to admit that the Lord had truly blessed them in the battle. The Outriders might have inflicted some small amount of damage, but they had suffered for it greatly. All eight escort craft had been destroyed, along with the entire launch facility. The casualties alone on the side of the Outriders had been enormous. Hundreds of personnel had died on those ships, and the loss of the facility itself meant their assaults via asteroid had finally come to an end.
Of course, that did not mean an end to the mysteries surrounding their enemies. The self-destruct mechanisms had removed most traces of identifiable information, but there were some pieces the fleet had been able to salvage. They finally had a real name for the Outriders, but not much more than that had survived. Bennett Securities—whoever that might be—had not left enough behind to prove their involvement, but Delacourt had seemed confident that more evidence would turn up soon. Gabe could only hope she was right.
Gabe heard a click on his communications band and glanced down at it. He was surprised to see his father’s name and frowned. “Acknowledge, Gabriel Miller.” The band accepted his command as he raised his wrist to his face, and Clark Miller’s face appeared. His father seemed uncharacteristically grim, but he supposed he should have expected that, considering the situation.
“Gabriel, I am glad to see you safe.”
“And I you, father.” Gabe paused. “Is anything wrong? I would have thought you could have waited until we landed before comming me.”
His father shook his head. “I couldn’t wait. I had to make sure you were all right.” The Speaker paused. “I heard there were casualties on the Deliverance.”
“There were. The cruiser took some pretty bad hits, but the Lord kept her together.” Gabe looked away. “We lost some people onboard, but my rig pilots all made it through. This time, at least.”
“I’m glad to hear that, son. You did well.” His father settled back and studied him. “I need you to come down to New Sonora. The sooner I can meet with you and Admiral Delacourt, the better.”
The urgency in his father’s voice put Gabe on alert immediately. “Father? What is it?”
“It turns out that the Outriders are no longer our only concern. The Eris Guard is about to move against us, and unless we think of something soon, we won’t be able to make it off the planet before they descend on us like a pack of wolves.”
“I will be there, Father.” Gabe paused and looked more closely. The Speaker looked tired. “We’re going to make it. Don’t lose hope.”
The Speaker gave him a weary smile. “Of course not, son. See you soon.”
A handful of hours after his return to New Sonora, Gabe found himself closeted in a room with his father and his superior officer, neither of whom was in any mood for lighthearted celebration or even simple congratulations. He was hard-pressed to tell whether Delacourt seemed grumpier than his father, or if it was just a trick of the light. With a sigh, he looked from one to the other. “Well, I don’t have any idea what to do. They’ve got a whole planet’s worth of infantry and ground units. How do we hold out against that if they move on us?”
Delacourt shrugged. “Our options at that point are fairly limited. The Deliverance-class cruisers do have targeting capability that would allow us to bombard the planetary surface, but I doubt the Guard will grow less aggressive if we do so.”
“You think?” Gabe rolled his eyes. “At that point, it would be a race between the Directorate and the Outriders on who would be able to bomb New Sonora first. They might even join forces to do it!”
“More to the point, Gabriel, I believe they already have.”
The Speaker’s words stunned Gabe. Delacourt, for her part, merely looked grim. “You suspect that as well, Elder Miller?”
Gabe glanced at her in surprise. “You suspected the Guard was helping them? But wouldn’t Elder Evans have warned us if that were happening?”
“I’m afraid I have not heard from Elder Evans for some time, Gabriel.” His father’s voice carried a weariness that made Gabe’s heart ache. “His disappearance confirms some of my worst fears. If the Guard has decided to conspire with the enemy, it would explain their inaction far better than simple bad luck or faulty equipment.”
Admiral Delacourt nodded slowly. “You’re right. The coincidence seemed off to me at first as well. The fact that we now have a functioning military force to defend ourselves would put them in an awkward position. And if they suspected that we had taken the launch facility…”
“…Then they would have to start wondering what we know about their backroom deals with the Outriders, too. That must be why they are moving against us now.” Gabe shook his head. “We’re just lucky that the Directorate isn’t here to back them up, then. Between us and the local Guard, there’s no question whom they’d choose to help.”
The Speaker’s face grew grim. “Then I am afraid I have bad news for you, son. Directorate ships arrived in the system three days ago. They are escorting the Concord and the Compass through the system on a victory tour to support the war.”
Gabe let his head fall forward and bounce off the table top in front of him. “Great. Just perfect. Could things get any better?”
Delacourt coughed lightly and raised an eyebrow when he looked at her. “Would you care to explain, Captain Gabriel? I do not understand how a simple tour for a glorified librarian’s vessel and a museum ship could create such trouble for us. Surely you are not afraid of a visit from the Keeper?”
He nearly groaned in frustration at her ignorance, but his father jumped in before he could say something all three of them would probably regret. “Maybe any other two ships, but not these, Admiral Delacourt.” Clark shook his head. “The Keeper has not been the most outspoken supporter of the followers of the Way. His father, so recently departed, was a good man in his own manner of thought, but he opposed me in nearly every attempt I made to speak to the Known Worlds. Our animosity is well known among the upper levels of government, and if the Chancellor asks for Schreiber’s help to subdue us, then I believe the Directorate will aid the Guard in our defeat.”
“And the Concord isn’t just any old museum ship anymore; they refitted it. Now it’s a museum ship filled to the gills with functional triple S rigs.” Gabe drew a blank look from both of the others and sighed. “Triple Ss? Space Superiority Suits? They’re top-of-the-line military rigs. Just one of them could tear through a CTR like it wasn’t even there.”
Delacourt tapped one finger on the table-top, her eyes suddenly distant. “I had heard of experiments on a suit like that, but they required a lot of training to pilot. Would they really place pilots with advanced training on a ship that is nowhere near the front lines?”
Gabe gave her a level gaze. “Things might have changed in their design plans since you were in the service, Admiral. They modified the control interface to bypass the skill requirements.”
She raised both eyebrows. “Really? How did they manage that trick?”
He dropped his eyes and focused on the shine of the table’s finish. “They hardwired the pilots to the interface. Gave them implants so that any pilot could connect to the system with a minimum of training. They don’t even need to calibrate anymore.”
There was a sharp intake of breath, and he looked up to find a horrified expression on her face. Somehow that reassured him of her humanity. “But that would turn the pilots into shells! They’d barely be more than an extension of the interface, with little hope of a normal life outside the service. How could they—”
“I believe we’re all aware of how they could justify such a move, Admiral Delacourt.” The Speaker’s voice expressed the same disgust that Gabe felt every time he thought of it. The back of his neck tended to start itching as well, as if an implant was hovering above his skin, tickling at the hairs there. His father looked out the window. “It only takes one bad decision to set our feet on the wrong path, and all too often we find ourselves unwilling to change our course until we find ourselves ensnared. They made these choices when they felt threatened, fearful, when they believed themselves alone and dependent on their own strength to survive. It is a kind of slavery I hope at the very least we can avoid as we ponder our own difficulties.”
Gabe heard a gentle rebuke in those words, and he sat back in his seat. His father was right, of course; the Lord would make sure that the followers of the Way would succeed. He needed to keep the faith and continue working toward that goal, no matter what happened. Feeling a bit more determined to do his part, Gabe straightened up in his chair. “So how can we prevent the Directorate from taking sides? Is there any way to appeal to the Council to intervene on our behalf?”
His father grimaced. “With the harsh words between us, it does not seem likely they would help me with anything. By extension, any help for Wayfarers in general is even more unlikely.”
Delacourt spoke slowly, as if tracing out a course in her mind before she placed each word in order. “But they would deliberate. Bicker. The Council has never been known for hasty decisions, even when they were called for in a state of war.”
The comprehension in her voice cheered Gabe, as did the begrudging look of respect she gave him. “While they are busy debating things, the commanders here will be paralyzed. They won’t want to be the ones who forced the Council’s hand, no matter what the Keeper says. The Guard might even hesitate, since they don’t want to look like they are taking the decision from the rest of the Known Worlds. We might not get them on our side, but the Lord willing, we can gain enough time to escape before they are ready to strike.”
With a firm nod, his father met his eyes. “It is a good plan, Gabriel. Thank you. I will set things in motion today once we are finished here. May the Lord grant that it be enough to guarantee the safety of His people here, for in His hands we surely are kept safe.” A fierce light came into his expression for a moment, and Gabe raised his eyebrows in surprise. Then his father’s features softened into a familiar smile, one corner of his lips twisted a bit higher than the other. “However, I am sure we could do a bit more to merit His protection on our own, poor servants though we are. Do you have any more suggestions?”
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Susan left the meeting feeling drained. Elder Miller might not have been blessed with the same tactical or strategic acuity as many of the superior officers she had served under, but he did have the same stubborn tenacity that showed in his son. Neither of the Millers wanted to end the meeting so soon, but they had recognized the fatigue in her eyes and bid her goodnight. Likely they were going to stay up bouncing ideas off the walls until sunrise, but she had other concerns.
Such as a case of mixed loyalties that she felt it would be unwise to admit in front of them.
She had not intended, really, to see the mission through to the end. Truthfully, she had almost said as much to Elder Miller in the beginning, though his knowing smile had made her think the old man had heard it all before. The sound of a brand-new colony in some far-off, unknown location seemed seductive, as did the chance to start over. Her current cause was more than just, and she felt no regret about the actions she had taken in defense of New Sonora, but her once-hidden doubts had resurfaced as she faced a new problem.
The Directorate of Defense had been her home, her life, for nearly a decade before they spat her out into the uncaring universe. She had trained alongside countless men and women in the hopes that she would be useful and needed in the war. The struggle to defend the Known Worlds had claimed some of those people, taking their lives as casualties continued to mount, but many remained alive.
If the Wayfarers came into combat with the Directorate forces, she could end up facing some of those people. To her discomfort, she began to realize that she could already have faced them; securities firms and mercenary groups were often safe havens for military officers looking for new careers. What would she do if she had to face some of her classmates across the battle lines? Could she really turn her back on the uniform that had trained her in the very arts she would use to defend New Sonora?
The thought troubled her. Images of friends and distant family floated to mind, as if asking her personally if they could be sacrificed for the sake of the Way. She shook her head as if to banish them, and heard an all-too-familiar voice behind her.
“Admiral Delacourt? Are you all right?” Captain Gabriel’s tone was casual, but the look on his face was curious. He was obviously expecting a deeper answer than she cared to give. She sighed.
“Yes, Captain, I am fine. Just thinking over our plans and the consequences we might encounter.”
Gabriel nodded, his expression sympathetic. “Yeah, I have to admit it’s going to get nasty around here. Our only real hope is that the Lord lends us enough time to leave this place before one enemy or another turns it into our tomb.” He paused, lips parting as if an idea had only just occurred to him. “Can I ask you a question, Admiral Delacourt?”
Susan regarded him silently. She sensed no hint of the typical hostility or annoyance she expected from him. It was slightly off-putting to find the man seemingly so sincere. “I suppose so, if you can manage an intelligent one.”
He snorted, half in amusement and half in rebuke. “Well, I will try my best, then.” Gabriel’s expression settled into something more serious than she had previously seen. “May I ask if you have any family elsewhere in the Known Worlds?”
Surprised, she raised an eyebrow. “Why do you ask, Captain Gabriel? Have you already gotten bored of badgering me and need some other Delacourt to persecute?” Before he could respond, she shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not. I was the only child of an older couple; they passed while I was on my first deployment in the Directorate. My cousins and other extended family have never really known me all that well, and those few who have met me have not kept in touch.”
“Oh.” Gabriel glanced toward the window and the setting sun beyond. “Well, never mind then.”
She sensed an odd flavor to the words, an emotion she couldn’t identify. Pity? Disappointment? Or was it relief? “Never mind what, Captain Gabriel?”
With a shrug, he glanced back at her. “I was just wondering if there was someone else you wanted to bring with you when we leave. If you had family, you might have wanted to send them a message to come here, or at the very least were worried about how the next few days would affect them. At least, I would have.”
There was no avoiding a smile, though she limited it to a small twist of her lips. Susan tilted her head slightly to look at him from another angle. “How nice of you to concern yourself with it, Captain, but I could have tended to my own affairs. Besides, were my parents alive, the last place I would have wanted them was in the middle of a war zone. Especially here.”
Gabriel blinked. “Why is that? I know I’m not a wonder to be around, but I can’t be that bad.”
Susan laughed and crossed her arms over her chest. She turned to the window. “I guess you could say that my family never took kindly to me after my discharge. I was a terrible disappointment to them, and probably always will be, if my uncles have their way.” For a moment she paused, remembering their disapproving stares when she left her court martial. “To be honest, they were not incredibly fond of religion either, and I doubt they would look very favorably on the followers of the Way.”
He folded his own arms across his chest and leaned a shoulder against the glass. A grin spread across his face. “I bet that defending the whole pack of Wayfarers from an assault wouldn’t look very good to them either, huh?”
Susan returned his grin with one of her own. “No, I suppose it would not have been pleasant to explain to them, though I think my parents might have understood. They taught me all I knew of responsibility and duty.” She shook her head. “Sometimes I wonder what they would have made of me. A soldier, discharged for a false reason and sent packing across the galaxy, looking for any work she could find. Then I fall in with a bunch of religious extremists—no offense, Captain—regarded by most of the Known Worlds as dangerous lunatics.” Her grip on her arms tightened a bit, and Susan looked away. “They would not be happy with me, not at all.”
Gabriel was silent a moment. When he spoke, his voice was almost gentle. “I don’t know if I would agree, Delacourt.” Susan looked up to find that curiously serious look on his face again; he seemed to be studying her in the fading light. “You’re here because you want to be here. Anyone else probably would have seen how desperate the situation was and run in the other direction. You took up our cause because you saw we needed help, and even though you could have gone at any time, you are determined to follow through.”
There was a pause as Gabriel looked down at the floor. He shifted his shoulders restlessly. “Maybe your family didn’t like the Way, and maybe they didn’t show their faith much either, but I doubt any parent would be ashamed of a daughter who stood for what was right and helped people who really needed it. They’d be proud of you; I’d stake my life on it. And if they were fool enough not to, then at least God knows what you’ve done here, and you can be sure He’s not disappointed at all.”
Another silence descended on them. Gabriel continued to study the floor, and Susan watched him. There was no trace of mockery or even uncertainty in his tone. Awkwardness, yes, and perhaps a touch of embarrassment, but he was sincere. How long had it been since someone had given her an unbiased, sincere compliment? She abruptly turned away. “So He would be pleased, would He? Has your father been passing Him notes, then?”
He chuckled. “I wouldn’t put it past him. Dad’s always a bit sneaky that way, for better or for worse.” With a grunt, Gabriel pushed himself away from the glass and stretched. “Well, I’d better be going. Dad might have been convinced to let us go for a little while, but if he catches us here in the hallway, it’ll be right back to the planning session.” Gabriel gave her a sidelong look. “Do you need an escort back to your quarters, Admiral?”
She paused, suspicious and yet half tempted at his offer. Her decision had already been made, however. “No, Captain. I think I will risk staying to watch the sunset a bit longer. If we will not be on Eris for many more of these, I should take the chance to appreciate them while I can.”
“True, true.” Gabriel waved a casual goodbye that in some universe might have resembled a salute. “I’ll see you in the morning, Admiral Delacourt.”
“Until then, Captain Miller.” Susan watched him walk down the hallway for a moment, and then returned to her consideration of the sunset. Somehow, the burden of her doubts seemed lighter. Perhaps Captain Gabriel Miller was not the complete pest she had assumed he was.
Alone in his chambers, Bennett looked over the reports from the facility his troops had assembled only two months ago. It had taken three months to complete both facility and defenses, and another month to tow all the pieces to the correct location without alerting the local Guard forces. Then, in the space of only a few hours, the entire thing had been obliterated. Right on the eve of his ultimate victory against his targets, a key piece had been removed from the board.
While he had to admit that the final destruction had been due to the fail-safes he had installed, the mere fact that they had been activated in the first place signaled a significant failure on someone’s part. In order for the fail-safes to have detonated, the recognition program installed in every Bennett Securities communications net would have had to hear the words ‘I surrender’ or ‘we surrender’ or something of the sort. There were a few other key phrases as well that would have triggered the devices, and the program had been designed to recognize the signs of treachery very effectively.
It had been a precaution that Bennett had never before needed to use. Every Bennett Securities operative was fully aware that betrayal meant death, and that there was nowhere they could hide from his retribution. That Commander Richins—or whoever his replacement had been—would try to surrender anyway told Bennett that the Wayfarers had dealt his forces a sound defeat. For whatever reason, his soldiers had believed for just a moment that the Wayfarers were more terrifying than he was.
Bennett felt anger begin to stir within his heart. It was a minor loss in the grand scheme of things. Compared to the successful capture of the Concord and her companion ships, the destruction of the asteroid launch facility meant very little. The original plan was to launch an asteroid that knocked Concord from orbit and into the city of New Sonora. Evidence could then have been planted that the facility belonged to the cult itself, turning them into a suicidal batch of maniacs responsible for the destruction of a beloved icon of the Known Worlds. Now the whole plan would have to change, and it would not be nearly as efficient. A mishap with the Wayfarer fleet’s new weapons might be believable enough to work. He would simply have to arrange it with the crews aboard the captured vessels.
Yet this incident went far beyond a mere inconvenience. Perhaps it was the inner demon of doubt whispering to him, taunting him with the possibility that if the enemy commander could have located and destroyed the facility so completely, she could just as easily anticipate Bennett’s plans with the Concord. Maybe it was that smug, self-confident prediction of judgment and doom Elder Evans had given as he died on the Maximum Security’s killing floor. Or perhaps it was merely the offensive notion that someone—anyone—could inspire a greater fear than that of himself in his men. He had earned that respect one bloody corpse at a time, and he was not about to let some interloper ruin it.
He shook his head and tried to relax his hands. Bennett had not realized his fingers had curled into fists. It wasn’t efficient to grow so obsessed with setbacks. A good businessman had to set his personal concerns and feelings aside in order to achieve real success, and nowhere was that idiom truer than in the field of war. Whether or not the Wayfarers had struck at him, his plans would ultimately lead to their defeat. The chancellor was already moving troops in around the city, though he still kept them outside the potential blast radius of the falling Concord. The Directorate could well decide to step in and finish off the scattered remnants once the final act of seeming treachery was performed in Eris’ orbit. Efficiency demanded that he focus on assuring that result rather than brooding over a superficial loss.
Yet not everything was about efficiency. Not everything was business. Some things were personal. For those things, a more direct and brutal touch was required, if only to make sure the message was received and remembered.
Bennett activated a communications console and typed in a message. A short while later, the door to his quarters chimed and a guard spoke over the speaker. “General, Captain Heinrichs is here to see you.”
“Send him in, Corporal. Thank you.” The door slid open, and the large officer stepped through the portal. He had been relieved of his weapons, as was standard procedure for visitors to his rooms, but he did not look any less certain than he had when he had started the killing of Elder Evans a few weeks before. Bennett waited as Heinrichs came to attention and saluted.
“Captain, I have a special mission for you.” Bennett watched as Heinrichs’ eyes flickered, but the man did not speak yet. He continued. “You are aware of our recent casualties at the asteroid launch facility?”
“Yes, sir.” A short, succinct answer, just as Bennett had expected. As flag captain, Heinrichs had access to that level of information, and had actually been the one to transfer the information to Bennett when it had been received. Bennett nodded.
“While the loss of the facility and its defenders is not a terrible setback for us, it is a blemish on our record. The loss of a few MSSR pilots is one thing, but the defeat of Bennett Securities forces by a group of amateur cultists is quite another.” Bennett shook his head as another burst of anger flared through him. He relaxed his hands and continued. “I have determined that an appropriate step should be taken to impress upon our enemies the consequences of that defeat.”
“Yes, sir.” Heinrichs’ tone had grown warmer, almost eager. The captain seemed to hesitate, and spoke slowly. “Do you mean the destruction of their cult, General Bennett?”
“To be truthful, we would have killed them all anyway, Captain. The destruction of New Sonora was the purpose of our contract, after all.” Bennett turned back to his console and tapped a few keys. “What I have in mind is a bit more direct than the obliteration of the city. Do you have training in infiltration missions, Captain Heinrichs?”
The captain nodded. “Yes, sir. Three years in Directorate Infantry school, and five in the Special Division of the Directorate marine forces.” Heinrichs gave him a sly smile. “I developed a taste for it, sir.”
“Excellent, Captain.” Bennett smiled, his expression mirroring the feral twist of Heinrichs’ lips. “Then I believe you will be perfect for this mission. Your target will be this man.” The console displayed a hologram, bright in the dim lighting of the room. “You will capture, torture, and kill him and anyone with him. Record and broadcast the event so our enemies will never forget what it means to cross Bennett Securities.”
Heinrichs examined the image, and his smile grew. When he turned back to meet Bennett’s eyes, his expression almost seemed to glow with hunger and hatred. “Yes, sir. It will be done. Elder Miller will be dead before the end of the week.”