Susan watched the Summer Rain grow in the shuttle’s navigational projections and tried to look forward to being aboard her. One of the biggest and best maintained ships in the refugee fleet, the Summer Rain served as the center of the Wayfarer government. She had probably started life as a simple passenger liner, with smooth lines and utilitarian amenities, but the Wayfarers had been careful to prepare the ship well for her intended journey across the stars. The smooth lines had been crafted into graceful curves, and the standard tetherdrive, power plant, and defensive shielding had been amplified. There were no offensive weapons onboard, but the Summer Rain could easily manage to outrun heavier ships and endure barrages from the smaller ones long enough for the Defense Forces to come to her rescue.
The ship wasn’t perfect. Few things were in the refugee fleet, despite the Wayfarers’ best efforts. Susan’s particular objections to the Summer Rain had more to do with her position as the center of the fleet’s government. The Council would have been better protected and far more secure aboard the Concord or one of the other military ships. The Summer Rain had been built to accommodate thousands of passengers, and the Wayfarers had stuffed the ship to its limits. To Susan’s mind, that provided any potential assassins, saboteurs, or other troublemakers with numerous opportunities to cause problems for the government of the fleet.
Yet the Council had been adamant about remaining apart from the military’s command structure, and even more determined to stay away from the Concord, the flagship of the entire fleet. Susan didn’t entirely understand their decision to enforce that separation, but she had begrudgingly agreed to it—as she already had so many other limitations.
She sighed to herself as the shuttle swung up beside one of the Summer Rain’s many docking points. It took only a moment for the little craft’s pilot to sidle it up against the hatch and establish a connection. When a tone sounded through the passenger cabin, Susan stood and made her way over to the exit.
Yet she didn’t travel alone. Ever since the assassination attempt in Eris, Susan had taken a bodyguard with her whenever she left the carrier. Corporal Shen was not a very talkative individual; indeed, she often wondered if he resented playing nursemaid to the commander of the Wayfarer Defense Forces. Yet he did his duty with a stalwart sort of determination that endeared him to her, and she nodded to him as she stepped past his seat. The grim, heavily armed soldier stood and followed her out of the hatch and onto the Summer Rain.
There was a solemn-looking man waiting for her. He nodded to the corporal, and then presented a hand for her to shake. “Admiral Delacourt, my name is Sergi Andrews. I’m to be your guide while you are meeting with the Council.” She nodded and let go of his hand. He gestured for them to follow him. “This way.”
The short walk through the Summer Rain’s corridors only increased her dislike for the situation aboard the civilian vessel. On a military ship, the corridors would have been cleared of debris and passersby when a visiting dignitary or officer came on board. Such gestures of respect and good order were not in evidence here. People crowded the hallways, gathering in clumps near some of the common areas or lounging around the passages, gawking at her and her escort. Her eyes narrowed as she considered how many attackers might hide in those crowds, and she did not relax her guard until she made it to the room where the Council waited.
It was a simple conference room, likely once used for the captain of the passenger liner to brief his crew or meet with investors. The broad oak table had been brought from New Sonora before the city’s evacuation, and Susan briefly wondered how much effort it had taken the Wayfarers to squeeze it through the doorway. Her idle thoughts were interrupted when she ran her eyes over the room’s occupants.
Elder Miller was there, sitting at the head of the table. His presence, as well as that of the rest of the Advisors’ Council, was not unexpected. After all, they were the ones who had called the meeting. Keeper Schreiber was also present. He was not a frequent visitor to the Council, but he wasn’t exactly a surprise, either. The man seemed devoted to his chronicle of the Wayfarer exodus, and he seemed to catch word of any meeting that promised to be especially important—or, failing that, full of internecine strife that he could dutifully record.
Three more people—people she had never expected to see the inside of the Summer Rain at all, let alone the Council’s conference room—caught her interest more effectively than any of them. The first was a guard; his stance, loaded pistol, and body armor made that clear at a glance. It was also just as clear that his duty did not extend to merely keeping the Advisors safe. He was much more interested in monitoring the actions of the other two visitors in the room. His eyes never left them, and any unexpected motion brought his hand to his gun.
One of those visitors was a former captain, Essen of Bennett Securities. He’d been captured along with the mercenary ships that now drifted along with the rest of the fleet. Essen had been the only commanding officer to survive both the vicious battle that had destroyed Bennett Securities and the equally bloody mutiny that had led to the surrender of the remaining vessels. The man did not owe his survival to superior wits or his inspiring nature; Essen had been left unconscious by strikes to his ship’s bridge, and his crew had not bothered to finish him off when they decided to lay down arms. He was pale and clearly nervous as he looked at the others in the room. When Essen recognized Susan, he flinched and quickly looked away.
His fellow mercenary was far less timid. She had auburn hair and strong features—and more importantly, she did not seem the least bit intimidated by the Council. When Susan met the mercenary’s eyes, the other woman stared back at her defiantly, as if they stood on an old-fashioned dueling ground. Her face had been marked by a single slender scar running down one cheek, but it seemed like an old wound rather than a legacy of the battle in Eris. Regardless, she was obviously much happier to be present than Essen was—in fact, Susan decided that this woman was the only reason Essen had attended at all, given his lack of backbone. That fact alone made her someone to watch carefully.
Elder Miller rose to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane. “Admiral Delacourt, I’m glad you could make your way here so quickly. We have an interesting proposition for you.”
Susan looked at Elder Miller in surprise. His expression gave away little, but his voice had carried a warning tone that told her she wouldn’t entirely agree with what was about to be said. Gabe had a similar way of speaking at times, and it rarely boded well when he resorted to it. Inwardly, she braced herself for yet another concession she would have to make for the supposed benefit of the refugee fleet. “I had hoped to hear that we would be moving out soon, Elder Miller, but any news from you is welcome.” She moved to the nearest seat and lowered herself into it while Corporal Shen took up a position on one side of the doorway. Their guide left as silently as he’d come, closing the door as he went.
For his part, Elder Miller looked only slightly chagrined at the veiled rebuke. He sat as well and rested his forearms on the table. “Fortunately, there is good news on that front. Elder Morsely, could you summarize our decision on that matter?”
The solemn-faced man nodded. “Of course, Speaker.” He turned to Susan with a stoic expression. “While we have not yet designated our final destination, we have decided to choose one system as a fallback option, in case something catastrophic occurs in this place.”
Morsely touched a control, and a projection of the surrounding stars appeared over the table. One of them burned a bright orange, showing the system where the fleet currently sat, while another shone with green light. The stars where they had previously traveled had been stained a dull, bloody red, stretching in a line back to Eris and the rest of the Known Worlds. “The green star has the appropriate characteristics for a habitable zone, and observations from Known Worlds observatories and our own instruments indicate that there are rocky planets in orbit. They could provide at least a temporary shelter for us, if such is needed.”
Susan felt a burst of frustration. She restrained it, mindful of the prisoners in the room and of her position in the Wayfarer hierarchy. “Might I ask why we are not already moving toward this star? It serves no purpose to remain here if we do not intend to colonize this place.”
Elder Miller gave her another warning look, but it was Elder Ishval who responded. “The decision to stay here has been influenced by many factors, Admiral. Not least among them is the critical supply of fuel. If we jump through space heedlessly, the fleet could easily find itself unable to continue our journey—and each resonance burst consumes a dramatic amount of that fuel.”
“Elder Ishval, that fuel can either be consumed while the fleet remains idle, or it can be used to find a suitable place to live.” Susan was trying to convince herself to be patient, but much of her exasperation came through. “Again, I must strongly urge the Council to reconsider. We need to move soon, or we may end up never moving at all.”
Elder Morsely gave her a level look. “Admiral Delacourt, while we appreciate your perspective on the matter, the decision has been made. We will notify you if that decision changes in the future.”
Susan bit back a retort as Elder Miller caught her attention. He smiled gently. “Thank you for your concern, Admiral. We will continue organizing our resources here so that when we do move, our journey will be a rapid one.” The Speaker then turned to the visitors at the far end of the table. “In the meantime, however, we have another issue to address. Mr. Essen, will you present your request to the Council once more?”
The pale-faced prisoner rose from his seat, and Susan noted that his wrists were bound with manacles that would have kept him from doing anything dangerous. Obviously, Elder Miller and the other members of the Advisors’ Council remembered the mercenaries’ assassination attempt as well. Essen glanced at the other prisoner beside him before he spoke.
“The former members of the Bennett Securities fleet have seen the error of their ways. We no longer wish to be prisoners or burdens on your refugee fleet. We—” Essen paused, with a nervous glance at Susan. “We wish to join your fleet and give our assistance in whatever way we can.”
Dead silence followed the words, and Essen sat, his face still pale. Susan let the quiet linger for a few more seconds, and then she snorted. “You have to be joking.” She looked around at the members of the Council. “Surely you aren’t considering this. Not too long ago, these mercenaries were trying to kill you, and now you want to make them part of the fleet?”
Elder Miller answered, his voice level and reasonable. “They already are a part of our journey, Admiral, whether as prisoners or as fellow travelers. This offer would simply make them more useful in the long run.”
“At the cost of all the other problems they could cause.” Susan glared at the mercenaries. “What would you have them do, anyway? Because I can guarantee you that the Defense Forces will not accept them serving under arms.”
Elder Rollins, a normally jovial man, spoke next. “That concern would be understandable, and we have every confidence in the Defense Forces’ ability to provide for our protection, but there must be some other needs that these mercenaries could address. Perhaps they could lend their expertise to repair damage on our ships.”
Susan let her expression harden. She had given way on many issues, but she had no intention of doing so this time. “No, Elder Rollins. The chance to work on the systems of our ships would provide too many opportunities for sabotage, mutiny, or other security problems. As the commander of your defense fleet, I couldn’t allow these people to create such a high level of risk for those serving with me, or those we protect.”
“Oh, hell!”
The curse brought the debate to a sudden halt. Susan looked over and across to find that the second mercenary had risen out of her seat. The woman glared in Susan’s direction, her expression fierce. “You really think we’d be that stupid? What point would there be in trying to kill or cripple any of you now?”
Susan returned her glare with an icy look. “None of your forces seemed to have any problem doing it before.”
The woman threw up her hands, expressing her frustration despite her manacles. “Because we were being paid, you idiot. We’re mercenaries! Lecture me all you want about how wrong it was and how sorry I should be, but don’t assume I did it for any other reason than profit.”
Susan stared at the woman, stunned. The rest of the Council seemed just as taken aback. Elder Ishval was the first to recover, and his voice contained more than a hint of anger. “So you are saying that we should trust you because you tried to murder us for money?”
With an exaggerated eye roll, the woman nodded. “Yes. Yes, you should. A mercenary is all about self-interest, all the time. And that’s why you can trust me and the rest of us to help you.”
There was another moment of silence, and then Elder Miller spoke. “Ms. Nakani, perhaps you could clarify your reasoning? I’m sure you must have a better explanation of your reliability than mere selfishness.”
“Selfishness is the best explanation, Miller.” She seemed unaware of the way the rest of the Advisors stiffened in anger at her neglect of the Speaker’s proper title. “We won’t do anything that would harm our own interests, and right now, you’re the best bet we’ve got.”
Elder Rollins shook his head. “Speaker, I know we had agreed to give them a fair hearing, but after listening to this sort of argument, I have to admit I doubt the wisdom of this plan. Is it possible that we were hasty in assuming these people could help us?”
Elder Miller was quiet a moment, and then he turned to Susan. “Admiral, we invited you here for your expert advice. Do you believe they would act against us now?”
Susan forced herself to consider the possibility. It was an effort to reach back beyond her first instinctive response to the crude woman’s words and draw on her memories of the mercenaries the Directorate typically hired for their own dirty work. She came to a reluctant, distasteful conclusion. “Perhaps not, Speaker.” The Council looked at her with varying expressions of surprise, and she shook her head firmly. “The mercenaries seem to have figured out for themselves what would happen to them if we did not continue to carry them with us. Without the Concord, they would be stranded in this system until their fuel ran out, or until someone found them.”
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Nakani nodded, her expression wry. “And whoever is lurking around in a border system to cross our path isn’t likely to be a virtuous sort. Excluding present company, of course.”
Elder Morsely grimaced. “They may be hoping for a return to Known Worlds’ space. That would induce them to cripple our ships if we are found by the Directorate.”
Susan kept her eyes on Nakani, studying her sudden scowl. She smiled as a reason for that sour expression occurred to her. “That would be unlikely to end favorably for them, Elder. The Directorate won’t have any more love for Bennett Securities than it would for us.”
Nakani’s face twisted into a snarl. “It’s all Bennett’s fault. That bastard burned every bridge we might have had in the Known Worlds, and then he drove us straight into you. If it hadn’t been for him …” Then she shook her head. “The only thing we have waiting for us in the Known Worlds is a firing squad, and that’s if they bother to shoot us before we go out an airlock. Better to stay and help you get to some planet where everyone can go their separate ways.”
Elder Ishval glanced up at the ceiling. “The Lord can send help from odd places, but I do think that her offer is sincere.” He brought his eyes level with Susan’s again and quirked an eyebrow. “Admiral, do you feel that they can be useful?”
Grudgingly, Susan nodded. The mercenaries might be a two-edged sword, but she could handle them if she had to. “Perhaps we can trust them that far. If not, we can always shoot them.” Nakani glared at her, but Susan met her stare with a simple raised eyebrow.
Elder Miller spoke from the head of the table. “Excellent. I had hoped that we could reach an agreement here.” He turned to the two mercenaries. “I hope, as well, that both of you can express our happiness to your fellow mercenaries that you have decided to help us in our journey. That is not the only thing I want you to tell them, however.”
The Speaker’s face hardened. “We have not yet forgotten the level of treachery we endured at your hands. The chance you’ve been given to redeem yourselves is not one you should take lightly.”
He paused, and continued in a voice like iron. “I promise you in the name of the Lord that if you do your best, you will have many opportunities and blessings available to you. If you do not—if you in fact take this opportunity as a chance to betray us—you will wish we had simply left you here to die instead.” Susan shifted her gaze from Elder Miller to the two mercenaries. Essen had gone from pale to paper white; Nakani’s expression had become blank and businesslike. The mercenaries nodded, and Elder Miller sat back in his seat.
With a sigh of what could have been relief, Elder Miller turned to Susan and smiled. “Well, Admiral, we appear to have conquered one dilemma today. I hope you are able to put them to work in the best way you see fit.”
Susan inclined her head. “Yes, Elder Miller.” She turned back to the mercenaries. Nakani was staring at her with dark eyes and a challenging expression. “I will strive to do just that.”
Gabe looked up as Susan came around the corner and smiled. She didn’t see him at first; her attention was on the report she was holding. He waited until she had nearly passed him before bracing to attention and speaking loudly. “Admiral Delacourt, Captain Miller reporting for duty.”
Susan jumped slightly, and then turned an exaggerated glare on him. “Captain Miller. How nice to see you. Finally.”
Gabe winced at the cool reminder of his effort to avoid meeting her before, and then rallied. “I heard about the Council meeting. How did it go?”
“Now you show an interest? Of course.” The exasperation in Susan’s voice was obvious enough that Gabe didn’t think he was the only source—at least, that was what he hoped. Susan gestured for him to join her. “Come along, then. We might as well talk about this in private.”
Gabe nodded, and they fell silent as they walked through the corridors of the flagship. Susan had been adamant about the need for restraint in public; she had placed a lot of importance on the impact a public relationship would have on the discipline of the rest of the fleet. He didn’t understand her worries on that front, but the world of military organization was her genius, not his, and he knew better than to ignore her advice on the matter.
They reached the office and Gabe held the door open for her. Susan gave him a bemused glance and walked past him. Her office was an extension of her personality; spartan, disciplined, clean. The main piece of furniture was the utilitarian desk set into the floor, with a retractable computer terminal. After a long effort, Gabe had managed to persuade her to include a comfortable chair for herself, and a few for any guests she needed to entertain.
Susan tossed the report she’d been reading onto the desk and fell into her chair with an exhausted sigh. Then she gestured for him to take a seat across from her. “Well, would you like to hear all about the mess your father and his friends are making for me today?”
Gabe shrugged. “I don’t know. Do I?”
“A rather good question, Captain Miller.” Susan flicked her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Do you have any pressing need to go on patrol at the moment?”
Despite himself, Gabe winced. “Point made. I’ll try to be a bit more available in the future.”
“Good.” Susan seemed to relax a little. She reached out and began to tap a command into her terminal. “With everything that’s been going on, the last thing I need is not to be able to depend on you. Even my own flagship is giving me headaches lately.”
Curious, Gabe stood and came around the desk to see what she was talking about. The screen on her console was a mess of intersecting lines and glowing labels. He tried to figure out the schematic for a few moments, and then surrendered. “What am I looking at?”
Delacourt gave him a tolerant look, and then pointed at the display. “This area is a portion of the Concord. Just aft of Frame Sixty, I believe.”
“Ah, I see.” Gabe still had no idea what she was expecting him to find, but he nodded sagely anyway.
Susan wasn’t fooled in the least; she gave him a wry smile and shook her head. “Typical rig pilot.” She pointed at the lines. “These are the corridors running through this section, highlighted in green. Yellow marks structural supports, and red marks life support equipment like black water lines and ventilation ducts. Power cables, gravity generators, and those sorts of high-energy machines are in blue.”
The schematic began to make sense at last, and Gabe frowned as something became clear to him. He pointed at a blank area standing out in the middle of the screen. “So what about this spot? There aren’t any corridors or anything running through there?”
“Not on the official schematics, I’m afraid.” Susan grimaced. “It looks like the information on what actually is there has been locked under a security seal. More accurately, it’s been expunged from our records. The only clues we have will need to be gathered firsthand, and I doubt that the engineers will appreciate having to go on a mapping expedition of their own ship.”
Gabe smiled. “Well, you could always go yourself. Didn’t you say you had a tradition of exploring your ship when you were in the Directorate?”
Susan straightened in her seat, her expression faintly nostalgic. “True. You could find all sorts of …” She trailed off and her eyes narrowed. “Of course, I was a junior officer, Captain Miller. An admiral has quite a bit more responsibility on her shoulders.”
He allowed his smile to turn into a grin. “All the more reason to take an hour off to explore, right? And it’s not as if anyone will reprimand you if you miss a conference call or two.”
Her eyes still narrow, Susan studied him with a severe expression. “You’re not a very good influence, Captain. What do you think would happen if I got lost?”
Gabe laughed. “Don’t worry. I think you’re important enough that they’d send out a search party for you—even if they had to press-gang a few engineers or rig pilots to do it.”
Another wry expression crossed her face. “I suppose that is true, but—” This time she cut off so abruptly that Gabe looked over in alarm. Susan merely looked thoughtful, but he still had warning bells ringing in his skull as she tapped her chin with one finger. “You know, that would solve things rather tidily.”
Wary, Gabe stood back from her slightly. “Should I know what you’re talking about this time? Because, Lord help me, I have no idea.”
Susan laughed, a clear, bright sound that Gabe knew was worth any confusion to hear. “No, I guess I hadn’t mentioned my other large problem. You see, the Council, in its infinite wisdom, has decided to extend mercy to our former mercenary foes.”
Gabe straightened in surprise. “They’re giving them pardons? They can’t be thinking of sending the mercenaries back to the Known Worlds.”
“No, even they aren’t that foolish.” Delacourt waved the possibility away. “They are trying to find a place for them within the fleet, though. They want me to come up with some assignment for them so the little mercenaries can prove themselves.” She smiled. “It occurs to me that you had mentioned a possible division of rigs set aside for search and rescue missions. Could these mercenaries perform that duty?”
“Maybe.” Gabe forced himself to consider the possibility, however distasteful it seemed. “They’d be under strict supervision, right? No weapons on their rigs?” He relaxed when Delacourt nodded. “Good. I guess the Lord may want us to give them another chance. Who knows, maybe they’ll actually do something useful before they backstab us.”
She snorted. “Allowing them to perform SAR operations will give you thirty-three more rigs to work with, Gabriel. I know they aren’t the best material, but it should shift a lot of the emergency response burdens away from your combat rigs.”
Gabe mulled over that fact, picturing the difference it would make. He would finally be free of the need to have a portion of his force standing by in case of a collision or some other mundane accident. The pilots would be fresher, able to scramble for combat operations more easily, and less likely to be unavailable for patrols due to SAR preparedness drills. Still, the prospect of having the Bennett Securities pilots back in their rigs irked him. “I don’t know …”
Susan gave him an uncharacteristically wide grin. “Look at it this way—if the mercenaries begin to take over your SAR duties, you might be able to spend more time looking for your mystical alien friends.”
Gabriel sighed. Ever since his contact with the unknown enemy rig, he’d had a persistent itch on the back of his neck, as if someone was watching him from around a corner somewhere. The strange, unworldly voice of the other rig’s pilot had made an appearance in his dreams now and again, and some of those dreams ended with an explosive flash as the slender rig opened fire. No further sightings of the strange contacts had occurred, but he suspected that the rigs were still out there, dodging RSR patrols and hovering beyond the sensor range of the CTRs. He still didn’t know if he should worry about an attack, but something whispered they would eventually find out soon enough. “Thanks for that. And I’d be a bit more worried about it if I were you, Admiral. Those things had to have come from somewhere.” He gave a crooked smile. “Either that, or your boyfriend is hallucinating.”
“Well, if he is, I’ll be sure to get him the finest padded cell the Concord has to offer.” Delacourt cuffed him on the shoulder with a chuckle, and he felt his worries lessen.
Then Gabe heard her console chirp an alert of some sort. “Trouble, Admiral?”
Susan shook her head. “No. Worse. I’ve got a conference with the Defense Forces ship commanders in about fifteen minutes to discuss supply states and training coordination.”
Gabe tried hard to repress a chuckle. “Sounds like an interesting way to pass the time, Admiral. I’m sorry you can’t bring me with you.”
She laughed. It was an unfortunate, malicious sound. “And who says I’m not? The rigs need to know what to work on, don’t they?”
Gabe glared at her. “You know I’ll get you back for this.”
Delacourt rolled her eyes. “Right. I’d be worried, but I have my alien allies to protect me.” She pitched her voice as low as she could. “Atanaas?”
“Oh, now that was a low blow.” Gabe couldn’t help but feel amusement and relief, though. He’d helped her figure out a problem, perhaps, and it sounded as if the situation in the fleet was improving. Despite the looming pain of the staff meeting, Susan’s laughter cheered him.
It would have been perfect—if only the memory of the strange rigs didn’t bring a chill to his spine.
Captain Wong watched from his personal conference room as the task force traveled through the Eris system, their formation arranged in perfect discipline. It was the sort of skill and professionalism that still brought pride to his heart.
The Imperious had taken up her proper position at the center of the fleet, of course. The Supernova-class carrier could hardly have been placed anywhere else; the largest ship by far, she was the command ship for the task force and the only ship with a resonance drive on board. Without her, not a single Directorate ship would be able to leave the system.
The rest of the ships spread out across the void in four distinct clumps. Eight Phalanx-class line cruisers made up the bulk of the fleet, with six of their more-specialized Trojan-class brethren gliding along beside them. Three Stalwart-class warships lurked among the smaller cruisers, their guns and rig bays on full alert. Each Stalwart-class ship could function as a mobile command center in a time of need; to see three of them in one place would have told anyone that the Directorate was taking the pursuit of the Wayfarers very seriously indeed.
Had anyone expressed further doubts, the last ship of the fleet would have dispelled them instantly. It was a Legend-class light cruiser, a small ship capable of devastating impact. Built with the most modern technology available and capable of launching triple S combat rigs, the Legend-class was in the domain of the Special Divisions within the Directorate. The Fisher King was so new that it had not seen combat yet—officially, anyway—and on its first mission, it would help with the hunt.
“A grand sight, is it not, Captain?” Wong turned to see Admiral Nevlin enter the room and made an effort to hide his surprise and annoyance. The man had come into the private command room unannounced, as was his right as the task force commander. Still, there was a tradition of respect between flag captains and their superior officers that would have kept most admirals from sneaking up behind their subordinates. It wasn’t typically the kind of behavior that characterized an effective combat officer, and it surprised Wong that Nevlin acted in such a manner.
“It is indeed, Admiral.”
Admiral Nevlin nodded and reached past Wong to tinker with the controls for the display. Again Wong had to restrain an initial burst of annoyance, but the admiral scarcely seemed to notice. “If only the rest of the situation here were just as inspiring.”
Wong nodded in agreement. The situation on Eris was clearly desperate. “I’ve already ordered the fleet to begin emergency assistance operations, sir. I’m afraid we do not have much practice with them, as we’ve been deployed to the front for quite some time, but we should be able to offer …” He trailed off as the admiral raised a palm.
“Your efforts in that regard are unnecessary, Captain Wong.” Admiral Nevlin offered him a tight smile. “The Council has stressed that our mission to hunt down the Wayfarers takes precedence over all other concerns. Therefore, you will issue new orders to the fleet. We are to follow the Wayfarers immediately—and Eris can take care of itself. Do you understand?”
Fresh shock froze Wong’s mind. Eris was a nightmare. With the Guard forces in the area torn to shreds and the capital city in a state of near-complete destruction, the locals had been completely unable to handle the crisis. Residual clouds of dust and fallout had swept across the atmosphere of the planet, triggering catastrophic weather patterns. Rioting, demonstrations, and other disturbances rocked the planet’s urban centers. It was the closest thing to civil war and anarchy that Wong had ever seen, and he knew that nothing short of outside intervention would stabilize the situation.
Of course, in the darker corners of his heart, Wong had to admit a personal concern as well. If a flag captain were to issue contradictory orders with no obvious change in the situation, it would indicate to the rest of the fleet either a lack of decisiveness and poise on the part of the captain, or a lack of clear direction from the task force commander. As it was the Hero of Riaskat leading them, Wong highly doubted the blame and humiliation would land on Admiral Nevlin’s shoulders—which would not bode well for the rest of the journey.
He realized that the admiral was still waiting for a response of some kind, and he sought to keep his tone appropriately respectful. “Sir, there are still some of the traitors left on Eris. Could we not offer assistance while we deal with them?”
Admiral Nevlin looked at him sharply, and Wong wondered if he had still managed to offend his superior with the question. “The cultists there no longer have any spaceflight capability, Captain Wong. They will not be able to run, and they’ve been isolated in their former stronghold by the remaining ground forces of the Guard. We can tend to them once we’ve hunted down their cowardly brethren.”
Wong nodded. Privately he wondered how much those ground forces were needed by cities plagued with riots and disorder, but it was not his place to suggest such a thing. He turned his attention away from Eris, focusing on the task force once more. “Our personnel are already analyzing the system for resonance burst signatures, sir. Once we’ve isolated them, we can pursue these traitors and track down Susan Delacourt.”
Nevlin appeared to tense at the name of their prey, but then the man relaxed. “Of course, Captain. I am glad to hear that you and your staff are so diligent in your efforts to find these traitors. Rest assured that we will bring them to justice, no matter what the cost.”
Wong nodded, and the admiral turned away. He watched his commanding officer leave the conference room, and then turned back to issue the orders to avoid the planet. The task force obeyed without comment or hesitation. Yet as they abandoned Eris, Wong couldn’t help but wonder what sort of mission he’d been handed this time.