A Choice of Treasons (92 page)

In the lift the deck seemed to tilt crazily beneath York’s feet. Add’kas’adanna caught his elbow and steadied him against a bulkhead. When it was clear he wouldn’t collapse she released him, stepped back and looked at her hand, at a bright, red smear of blood on her fingers. “You must take better care of yourself, Captain.”

His vision had started to constrict, and she stood at the center of a halo of diminishing sight. “Treason is a dangerous business.”

She nodded. “
Kith’ain
is the most dangerous business of all. But when it calls we must answer.”

“I don’t know anything about
kith’ain
,” York growled, and he took a moment to catch his breath and let the pain recede. “By the way. You’re not a prisoner here. You and Director Theara are my guests. You’re not allowed free rein of the ship, and you’ll be escorted at all times, but you’re free to go, though at the moment I don’t have alternate transportation to offer you.”

He looked at Palevi. “You understand me, Sergeant?”

“Yes, sir.”

Add’kas’adanna looked at him carefully and grinned, a rare gesture for her. “Did you know, Captain, that
kith’ain
is much more than honor and reputation. It is often a challenge that can mean life and death, and sometimes a contest in which the players struggle to acquire obligation. It is a game, Captain, of debt and indebtedness, and for one who claims to know nothing of
kith’ain
, you appear to play the game quite well.”

The lift doors opened. The marine standing guard on the bridge glanced in, frowned. “You okay, Cap’em?”

Palevi turned on him. “Get a medic up here for the captain.”

York added, “Make it Kalee, and tell him I need a
kikker
. And get out of my way.”

The marines ducked aside as he strode onto the bridge, trying to hide the fact he was ready to collapse. The bridge was unnaturally silent as he dropped into the couch at the Command Console. “What the hell’s going on? Pay attention to your duty assignments. And Jondee, put Director Add’kas’adanna at a console and open up a channel to that Kinathin.”

“Uhhh . . . captain . . . sir . . . uhhh, Mister Jondee is dead.”

York took a deep breath and let it out slowly, tried to make sure he held onto reality.

“Captain.” It was McGeahn. “That Kinathin is hailing us, uncoded transmission.”

“Put him through to me, and copy both sides of the conversation to Director Add’kas’adanna’s console.”

The Kinathin that appeared on York’s screen showed about as much expression as a block of stone. “I am Councilor Ard’dha’sit. And you are?”

“York Ballin. Captain, commanding
H.M.S. Cinesstar
.”

The Kinathin nodded. “You are holding Director Add’kas’adanna as a prisoner on your ship.”

It was time to gamble. Add’kas’adanna and Sab’ach’ahn had given him hints, but any understanding of the Kinathin psyche was guesswork. “You have lost Director Add’kas’adanna? Have you also lost Director Theara?”

The Kinathin’s face hardened. He looked ready to spit nails into transition. “There is
kith’ain
debt—”

York cut him off. “Not I, nor any of my people, owe you, or Director Add’kas’adanna, or any Kinathin,
kith’ain
debt. So don’t speak to me of
kith’ain
debt. Add’kas’adanna and I are enemies. We’ve fought, and I have been victorious. But she’s not a prisoner here, she’s my guest, and free to leave when she chooses.”

York thought if Ard’dha’sit grew any angrier he might sprout gun turrets in place of ears. York continued. “If you wish to discuss the matter, you’re invited to join me aboard my ship. The articles of truce will pertain. You may bring whatever retinue you wish, though no armed troops will be allowed. Your safety and that of your retinue is guaranteed by me, and will be my responsibility.”

Ard’dha’sit nodded coldly. “I will have my shuttle prepared.”

“No,” York barked. “My gunboats are already prepared. One of them will pick you up immediately.”

Again Ard’dha’sit nodded coldly. “Very well, Captain.” He cut the transmission.

“Jakobee,” York said. “Send
Two
, with two marines, sidearms only, as security. And clear
Three
Bay. We’re going to need the room. Set up a conference table like in
One Bay
.”

Add’kas’adanna met him at the lift. “You play well, Captain.”

When the lift doors cycled open, Kalee and Alsa Yan were in the lift, and Alsa looked no happier than Ard’dha’sit. She grabbed York, pulled him into the lift and barked, “Computer, seal this lift and hold static.”

She ignored the computer’s acknowledgment and turned on York. “Kalee tells me you’re wounded.”

“It’s a minor wound,” York pleaded. “We don’t have time for this.”

She spun him about and lifted the side of his tunic. “Shit,” she grumbled.

“See what I mean, ma’am,” Kalee said. “He’s bleeding like all hell, but the wound don’t justify that.”

She probed, poked, let her instruments bleat at her for a few seconds. “You’re experiencing regrowth rejection, and some clonal implant failure. We’ve done too much work on you lately, haven’t given your body a chance to absorb and adjust to all the repairs. Any other wounds?”

York decided not to tell her about the broken ribs. “No.”

“Any other symptoms? Numbness? Anything out of the ordinary?”

Again he lied. “No.”

“All right,” Alsa said unhappily. “I’ll stop the bleeding, but you get your ass to sickbay as soon as this is over.”

“Yes, ma’am,” York said. Kalee grinned.

Councilor Ard’dha’sit stepped off the gunboat in
Two Bay
accompanied only by six unarmed Kinathin bodyguards, and three middle-aged men. He was the first male Kinathin York had ever met in person, and while York had become accustomed to the height of the two female Kinathins, Ard’dha’sit stood a head taller than them, and he towered over York.

Sab’ach’ahn, whom York had instructed to stay close at hand, stood behind him, though she seemed not to exist for Ard’dha’sit. If any Kinathin words were spoken she was to quietly translate them into her throat mike so he could pick them up in his implants. Add’kas’adanna was conspicuously absent, and York had no idea where she’d gone. Ard’dha’sit made it clear he would rather just chew York up along with the mouth full of nails he was enjoying. When Ard’dha’sit turned and introduced the three middle-aged men with him, it was York’s turn to stand open-mouthed and dumbfounded: Directors Kaffair, Ninda and Zort.

York was starting to recover his composure when his implants said, “Cap’em, Mec Notay here. I’m with the empress and Directors Theara and Add’kas’adanna in Hangar Control. They want to talk to you.”

He keyed his implants. “I’ll be right there.” To Ard’dha’sit he said, “Sergeant Palevi will show you to a place where we can talk.”

Ard’dha’sit demanded, “Where is Add’kas’adanna?”

York said, “Add’kas’adanna is where Add’kas’adanna chooses to be, though I do hope she’ll join us shortly.”

“Captain,” Cassandra said as he stepped into Hangar Control. “This isn’t working.”

He ignored her, sat down at a console and keyed his implants. “Jakobee, I’m in Hangar Control. Give me a sit-map.”

A full situation map appeared on the screen in front of him. Half of Home Fleet had fragmented into a dozen small free-for-alls. Another forty ships from Home Fleet appeared to have joined Tzecharra. She had positioned them into a defensive line between the fighting and
Cinesstar
, with her sixteen original ships providing a second buffer behind them where she could intercept anything that might get through. The Kinathin armada had not moved. “What’s the situation, Jakobee?”

“You can see for yourself it’s a mess, and unstable as all hell. Tzecharra says she’ll try to give us plenty of warning if it starts to go bad on us.”

York ran his fingers through his hair. “I suppose that’s all we can hope for. Let me know if anything breaks.”

York stood and almost bumped into the empress. She and the other two women had been looking over his shoulder at the sit-map. “I didn’t realize the situation was so unstable.”

Theara added, “All the more reason to get the treaty signed as soon as possible.”

Cassandra shook her head sadly. “That’s the problem. Abraxa, Soladin and Schessa are holding out. Ordinarily the three of them are at each other’s throats, and if we could get just one of them to break it might be enough to sway the other six. But with all three of them aligned the Council won’t budge.”

York looked at Add’kas’adanna. “How’ll you vote on this treaty?”

Theara looked at her sharply. “She always votes with Ninda.”

Add’kas’adanna shrugged. “When I return to the Directorate I will do as
kith’ain
dictates.”

York grinned. “You don’t have to wait until you return to the Directorate. Ard’dha’sit brought Ninda, Zort and Kaffair with him.”

Even the stoic Add’kas’adanna lost her composure for a moment. Into the silence York said, “We have aboard this ship the ruling bodies of both the Directorate and the Empire, so let’s see what we can do with that.”

CHAPTER 43: THE FINAL TREASON

In
Three Bay
Ninda and Kaffair were already arguing over the treaty while Zort looked on. When York stepped out of Hangar Control with Theara, Add’kas’adanna and Cassandra, Ninda turned on Theara, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I knew it had to be something like this. You and our esteemed Director General have always been naive.”

Theara held up a copy of the treaty. “It’s time for this, Ninda. And it’s long overdue.”

Ard’dha’sit silenced them both. “Stop this petty squabbling.” He turned to Add’kas’adanna and spoke in Kinathin.

He is saying nothing more than a polite greeting, Captain,
York’s implants said in Sab’ach’ahn’s voice.

Ninda turned to York. “Now what, Captain?”

“No one is a prisoner here,” York said.” You’re free to go, all of you, including Directors Add’kas’adanna and Theara.”

“Then we will go,” Ard’dha’sit said.

Add’kas’adanna spoke barely above a whisper. “I will stay.”

Ard’dha’sit rounded on her, locked eyes with her for a moment then nodded. “Then we too will stay.” He turned carefully to the other Directors. “And that includes you.”

York hastily introduced Cassandra then gestured to the conference table, “Shall we be seated?”

Ard’dha’sit stiffened. “In Kinatha we do not sit while confronting our enemy.”

York pulled out a chair, sat down, leaned back casually and spoke harshly, “First, Councilor Ard’dha’sit, we are not in Kinatha. We are within sovereign imperial space. Second, we are not on a Kinathin vessel, we are on an imperial vessel. Third, you’re my guest. And fourth,” York softened his voice. “I think I’m no longer your enemy.”

Ard’dha’sit frowned, considered him for a moment, then pulled out a chair and sat. Cassandra and the five
feddie
Directors did likewise. The hull echoed with the distant, muted sound of automatic weapons as Palevi’s marines continued digging out the last of the AI holed up on G-deck.

“We have a treaty here,” Kaffair said. “It’s not perfect, but it’s better than anything we could hope for.”

“And what will it buy us?” Ninda demanded.

Theara answered him, but York didn’t listen. Ard’dha’sit’s attention briefly appeared elsewhere as he obviously used his implants to speak with his subordinates. He was paying no more attention than York to the argument raging about them.

York was tired, and he could see this was an old argument they’d gone through many times. He keyed his own implants and spoke softly, “Jakobee, what’s the status on G-deck?”

I’ll put you directly in contact with the corporal in charge down there.

There was a brief pause, then,
Cap’em, Cleaver here.

“What’s the status down there, Meat?”

There’s only about five of ‘em left, Cap’em, and we got ‘em bottled up tight. I tell you, we could end this fast if you’d just let me blow vacuum in this section. They don’t got no vac suits.

“Negative, Corporal. As long as you’ve got the situation under control I’m not desperate enough to try that. You do have the situation under control, don’t you?”

Yes, sir. They don’t have any more heavy stuff so it’s just a matter of time.

“Very good. Ballin out.”