A Choice of Treasons (86 page)

“No,” Dulell said heatedly. “It’s not
nothing
. You’re playing some game with him, aren’t you? You won’t even execute him cleanly. You have to torment him. Don’t you see how cruel you are?”

“Oh, Arkan,” Juessik said, rolling his eyes. “Not that argument again.”

Dulell spun on his heal and stormed away.

York dropped into the Captain’s Console and growled orders at McGeahn to show him the conversation between Luna Prime Security and whomever Palevi had chosen to act the part of an AI goon. It was Mec Notay. “Lieutenant Jessup is making his rounds right now,” Notay said, addressing an AI major, “but I’ll relay your message to him immediately. We have forty-two actives here, fully armed and kitted. We’ll cover every entrance, and with the troops you’re placing on the docks, I doubt we’ll need additional support, though Lieutenant Jessup will have to be the judge of that.”

“Very good, Sergeant,” the AI major said. “If Jessup needs anything, have him call me immediately.” He cut the circuit.

York demanded, “What was that about?”

Notay grinned. “Well, sir, apparently you’ve escaped, and they believe you’re headed straight for this ship. They want us to take you into custody as soon as you get here, though they don’t think we’ll have to worry about it since the AI troops on the docks will intercept you first. They’re scared, but they think they got the situation in hand.”

York breathed a sigh of relief. “Keep that AI uniform on.”

Using ring-zero access, York set up a small program to scramble some of the communications port codes for ships docked on Luna Prime. At random intervals it would scramble a couple of port addresses, then a few minutes later unscramble them. Anyone placing a call to a ship on Prime might find themselves talking to the wrong ship. He told McGeahn, “The next time someone calls this ship, answer it yourself and claim to be some other ship, complain that they’d better not screw up our port fees—stuff like that.”

McGeahn grinned. “You’re pretty sneaky, Captain.”

York scanned the intelligence reports on the Directorate force approaching Luna. The fact that it was wholly Kinathin must have something to do with Add’kas’adanna. He checked carefully, found her presence was as much a secret as the approaching Kinathin armada, though with ring-zero access he learned she was being held incognito at the navy base at Mare Crisia on Luna. On impulse he checked on the location of the other
feddie
Director, Theara. She too was at Mare Crisia.

“McGeahn,” he barked. “Where’s Sab’ach’ahn?”

“I don’t know, sir. Do you want me to find her?”

“I’m here, Captain,” a ghostly voice said from somewhere behind York, and the Kinathin stepped forward to stand beside York’s console. She still wore the reddish-brown patch of dried blood painted on one eyelid. It made her pale blue eyes stand out even more.

York pointed to the screens on his console. “Do you know how to read an imperial situation map?”

“I do, Captain.”

“That approaching Directorate fleet is wholly Kinathin, and we have reports the Kinathins have withdrawn all their ships from Directorate operations. What do you make of that? Is this a
kith’ain
thing? Something to do with Add’kas’adanna?”

She stared at his screens for a long moment, then turned her head slowly and stared at him. “You understand more than you profess.”

She turned her attention back to the screen. “Where is Add’kas’adanna Kith’at’annan?”

“She’s being held incognito at the Mare Crisia Navy Base on Luna.”

Sab’ach’ahn nodded slowly, as if that confirmed her thoughts. “They’re not approaching in a Kinathin attack formation, though apparently your commanding officers do not realize that.”

“And if we fire upon them first?”

“It will mean battle to the death.”

“And if we don’t.”

“I do not know, Captain.”

“But it’s a
kith’ain
thing?”

Sab’ach’ahn nodded.

“What was that other word you used—Kith’at’annan?”

“A title. An honorific.” Again she turned those blue eyes on him. “The Kith are the highest caste in the Kinathin class structure. Kith’at’annan . . .” She hesitated. “There is no word for it in your language, or even the concept. It translates loosely to
lone warrior
, but that too is inadequate. There are only three living Kith’at’annan, and they are honored above all others.”

“And Add’kas’adanna is one of them.” How could he use that to
Cinesstar’s
advantage?

“Captain . . .” Sab’ach’ahn continued. “The word Kith’at’annan has another meaning. It is also our word for enemy, traitor, or betrayer, and when used with the proper tone and inflection, it is often a challenge, as well as an insult. Entire planets have been devastated in reply to such an affront.”

York looked at her carefully. “Thank you, and please stay close at hand.”

She bowed slightly, stepped back and disappeared into the shadows of the bridge.

York’s immediate concern was escape, and to that end he had to know what ships were within range to intercept them when they made their run for it. There was an AI cruiser docked in the Yard on Prime, two berths down from
Cinesstar
. There were two AI destroyers in orbit around Luna, another in orbit around Terr, and a dozen AI patrol boats dodging around the Luna-Terr system. But, with the exception of a light destroyer in orbit around Terr, waiting for a berth in Prime’s Yard for needed repairs, there were no regular naval vessels within heliopause. Now that was curious, very curious indeed.

Prime herself was their biggest danger. She had enough weapons to do a lot of damage to
Cinesstar
during the time it would take them to get out of range. And there were the large orbital weapons platforms orbiting Terr, all controlled by Prime Central. He’d prefer to sneak out quietly, but he didn’t have that option. That meant he’d have to take control of Prime Central, scramble the command grid long enough get our of Lunan
nearspace
.

York keyed his implants. “Kalee, this is Ballin. Get up here and bring that makeup kit of yours. I’m going to need a good eye again.”

York checked on the location of his former passengers. The empress, her daughter, the old queen mother and Martin Andow were all listed with a location of
insufficient access priority
. York went to ring-zero and learned they were all being held incognito at Mare Crisia. “McGeahn. Get the d’Hart woman up here, on the double.”

Kalee showed up and started on his chrome-eye and scars.

When Sylissa d’Hart arrived York told her of his unusual find, that the VIP’s who’d been aboard were all now at Mare Crisia. “Where’s the emperor?” she asked.

York checked. “Incognito, Mare Crisia, being held in protective custody because of an assassination attempt.”

She pursed her lips. “Check on Senator Tycho Marin.”

“Incognito, Mare Crisia.”

She threw several more names at him, and each was the same: Mare Crisia. “That’s the leadership of the imperial senate.” She looked at him carefully. “There are rumors of a coup.”

“Who’s involved?”

“It would have to be the Admiralty Council.”

York stared hard at his screens, an idea beginning to form. But then he squashed it and refused to let it mature.

“What’ll you do?”

“Nothing I can do, just escape with my life.”

She stepped around in front of him. “There is something you can do; I saw it a moment ago in your face.”

“No. There’s nothing I can do.”

“You’re lying.”

“Enough,” he shouted, standing. “Get out. You’re not my conscience. Sab’ach’ahn.”

The Kinathin appeared beside him. “Sir.”

“Escort Lady d’Hart off the bridge.”

She pursed her lips at him angrily, then turned carefully and left, with Sab’ach’ahn behind her. In her absence the bridge was strangely silent, with York’s officers frozen at their stations staring at him. “Get back to work,” he shouted and sat down.

He called Alsa Yan. “The wounded are still aboard, right?” He didn’t want to abandon any of them.

Yan didn’t try to hide her anger. “They left them all here to rot in the tanks. All but Maggie.”

A cold lump formed in the pit of his stomach. “Maggie?”

“Ya. I don’t know why, but those AI goons took her away from me. Don’t know where she is.”

It took him several minutes to locate her:
Magdelena Votak, hospital sector, Luna Prime, room 3G9. Condition: catatonic and non-responsive, with brief and infrequent moments of semi-coherence.

York stood, his heart pounding in his ears, and for several seconds he couldn’t breathe.

“Captain?” It was McGeahn. “Are you all right. You don’t look well.”

“I’m okay,” he shouted. “Pay attention to your station.”

She cowered and mumbled, “
Aye, aye
, sir.”

He sat back down, forced an artificial calm. “McGeahn,” he barked.

“Sir.”

“Have Palevi, Yagell, Tathit, Jakobee, Temerek, Gant and Cappik join me in the captain’s office in ten minutes. Until then I’ll be in my cabin. Sab’ach’ahn. Come with me.”

He stood and walked off the bridge.

He sent Sab’ach’ahn to his office to wait for the others, then he sat down at the console in his cabin. He put in a call to one of the major media services, though he blanked his picture so they wouldn’t recognize him and flagged the call as Imperial Security. That would indicate to anyone the call was coming from someone with unusually high access rights. It worked, and in seconds he was speaking to the general manager of the service, a Mister Thoring.

“Who am I speaking with?” Thoring demanded.

“If I were going to give you that information,” York said patiently, “this call would have a very different flavor.”

Thoring nodded. His access rights were not sufficient to blank his picture. “Very well. What do you want?”

“I’m going to transmit the contents of a recording to you, and some other information. Are you ready to receive and record?”

“One moment.” Thoring leaned out of the view of his pickup, there were a few noises in the background, then he leaned back. “I’m ready.”

York pulled the card Palevi had given him out of a pocket, inserted it into his console and started transmitting it. He gave Thoring the whole thing, the recording of the meeting of the Admiralty Council, the out-takes from his staged court martial. Then, as an afterthought, he added a copy of the special situation map that showed the approaching Kinathin fleet.

“What is it you’ve sent me?” Thoring demanded.

“Look it over. It’s self-explanatory. I’d like you to broadcast it, but don’t waste any time getting to it. I’m going to begin distributing it rather widely. You’re the first, so you’ve got a real scoop on your hands. But if you delay, someone else’ll beat you to it.”

York cut the circuit.

He then addressed a copy of the card to every officer in Fleet, and transmitted it immediately, and again he made sure the origin of the transmission was anonymous.

Sab’ach’ahn stepped into his office. “They’re waiting for you, Captain.”

Bella Tzecharra looked at her screens with a deep sadness. She had served the Empire for so many years, served it faithfully, honorably, but she was at a loss now. She and the other officers of Third Fleet had been forced to betray Ballin and the crew of
Cinesstar
, and while she had obeyed her orders then, it had been hard to remain loyal. And then Abraxa had in turn betrayed her, and she’d barely escaped with her life, and her ship and her crew. Her fellow officers, the remnants of Third Fleet, no doubt felt the same. Their sense of outrage, of betrayal, united them and they could no longer serve the empire as they once had. But neither could they betray her by going renegade. They’d met long and hard, had argued heatedly, and had finally decided to appeal directly to the emperor.

There were few of them left, only twenty-three ships, several badly mauled, all with some damage. Those that could, a mere sixteen, had driven ahead of the approaching Kinathin fleet, down-transited well outside of heliopause at the edge of the Lunan system. But there was no emperor upon the throne to whom they could appeal, and with a major battle imminent, they’d decided to stand aside, to watch and wait.

Never before had she been faced with such indecision.

York began the briefing to his senior officers by playing the card for them, simultaneously broadcasting it to every station on ship—the meeting of the Admiralty Council, the out-takes from his trial. He then addressed the crew on
allship
. “I’m going to keep this simple. Our leaders betrayed us. At Sarasan our comrades did not die in battle, they were murdered, and our leaders have betrayed us again and again. And even now they intend to betray us one last time. Our purpose now is not noble, nor honorable, it is merely to escape. I don’t know what we’ll do after that—I’m not going to think about that now. I’m going to think only that I must do whatever is necessary to escape, and that I have the right to do that. I recommend you think the same. You’re a good crew, and you deserved better than this.”