Linesman (15 page)

EAN LAMBERT

EAN WOKE AT
a rough shake from Abram. It seemed only seconds later, but someone had brought in tea and sandwiches while he'd been asleep. Suddenly, getting some of those sandwiches was the most important thing in the world.

He only noticed that the guards were gone—Radko excepted—when he had the sandwich in his hand. The sandwich tasted like sandpaper. Radko could handle him on his own, he supposed. She had proven that already.

Michelle, whom he hadn't even noticed until now, silently handed him a glass of tea.

He wasn't sure he wanted to drink tea ever again.

“It's not drugged,” Michelle said, and poured herself and Abram a glass as well. They didn't offer Radko one. She was obviously on duty. She even stood away from the wall, with both feet on the floor.

“Drink it,” Abram said, and it was an order.

“Yes, sir,” and he did, and even though he knew it didn't contain triphene, his mouth still remembered the bitterness, and he imagined he could taste it.

“Rebekah's shuttle hasn't returned,” Abram said. “And two Gate Union ships appeared some hours ago.”

“So she's been captured.” His voice was scratchy.

Michelle made a sound that could have been a humph of disbelief. Radko looked openly skeptical.

Abram's face showed no real expression, but his voice was exceedingly dry, as he said, “We think it more likely she has joined them as a collaborator.”

“But the shuttle is yours.” They were trained soldiers, and loyal. He would have heard it in line one if they hadn't been. How could they be beaten by a single linesman?

This time Abram's face did show expression—raw, naked grief—but only for a moment. “Yes,” he said. “The shuttle is ours, and the people on it were combat soldiers. At least whatever she did had to be fast; otherwise, she could never have taken them.” He took a deep breath and drank two mouthfuls of tea before he spoke again. “The Gate Union ships are each exactly one hundred kilometers out. It seems they are well informed.”

Ean chewed another sandwich slowly. Rebekah Grimes was a linesman. Under contract to Abram and this ship. She wouldn't break the contract.

Abram's dry, factual accounting went on. “Both ships sent shuttles. Both shuttles stopped fifty kilometers out from the alien ship. They've now returned to their parent ships, but we believe they will move closer next time.”

“She wouldn't break contract,” Ean said. “It means that no one would trust the cartels. Are you
sure
she—”

“You bastard.” Radko launched herself at him, her elbow connecting with his chin, knocking his head back so that he—literally—saw stars. His teeth snapped together so hard he was glad his tongue wasn't in the way. He would have bitten it off. Hot tea went everywhere; the glass flew up and came back down to bounce on his head.

“Ten people are dead, and all you care about is a stupid contract.” She punched him in the stomach, in the face, in the chest. Hard, heavy thumps that made him double over in agony and made his head ring. “And instead of chasing after them, we have to stand around while you sing songs.”

Michelle pulled her off while Abram stood empty-eyed and watched.

Ean was just glad the future empress of Lancia was strong
enough to hold her own. He wiped away a trickle of blood, not sure if it was from his nose or his mouth. “You've already tried and convicted Rebekah, but you tell me how she can overwhelm ten trained guards.” Or break lines. Linesmen fixed lines.

Radko stepped back to attention. Silent tears streamed down her face. She was shaking, but she stood tall and proud.

“Rebekah made two calls to Gate Union after our offer of a job but before she left the confluence to join our ship,” Michelle said.

They were crazy. “You knew she was a spy, but you still let her come.”

Michelle had found a cloth from Ean didn't know where. She wiped the blood off his face. “We needed a ten. At the time, we didn't know I'd find you.”

He
wasn't much use.

“We always knew the ten would work with Gate Union,” Abram said, his voice back to the usual neutral tone he used when talking business. His work voice. “I thought I could manage that. I was wrong.” He looked at Radko. “Dismissed,” he said.

“Yes, sir.” She marched out, head high.

“Apologies for letting my emotions get the better of me, Linesman.” Ean heard the subtext underneath, Abram didn't need to say it aloud. Apologies for letting my staff hit something when I wanted to hit out. He held out his hand. “I'll get your comms fixed.”

Ean handed it over silently. Somewhere in the fighting, Radko had smashed it. He hadn't noticed when. He picked up the sandwich he'd dropped, plus the now-empty glass. He went over to get himself another glass of tea and tried to stop his hands shaking. He couldn't afford to make a fool of himself in front of Michelle and Abram again. He took a deep breath and tried to concentrate.

Now that he was listening for it, he could hear the distress in line one. If he'd thought about it before, he would have put it down to the destruction of the lines.

He saw, out of the corner of his eye, Michelle give Abram's shoulder a quick squeeze.

“Are you sure everyone on the shuttle is dead?” Ean asked.

Abram's voice was bleak again. “I can think of a dozen ways a single person can disable a combat-trained team. None of them involve keeping the team alive.” He shrugged. “We don't know. There's us and five other ships out there searching for that shuttle. It has disappeared.”

Shuttles didn't disappear. Not without a trace.

“Can't you track it?”

Abram compressed his lips into a thin, tight line. For a moment, Ean thought he wouldn't answer. “It takes military know-how to hide a shuttle,” he said eventually. “We're fairly certain it's on one of the Gate Union ships by now.”

“We can't just march in and accuse them,” Michelle said. “Not without proof. Not without provoking a showdown we can't afford to have.”

Abram visibly shook himself, as if trying to force himself to forget the shuttle. “At present, we don't have void capability. We're moving everyone but crew and essential personnel off this ship onto the other ships, so they can jump if anything happens.”

What did he expect to happen?

“Collect your bag and make your way down to shuttle bay four.”

He hadn't finished fixing line six. And they hadn't found out anything about the alien ship yet.

“But I'm crew.”

Ean looked down at his uniform. It had been an instinctive protest, but it was also starting to feel true. On a Lancastrian ship? Who was he kidding? He took another sandwich and chewed it, even though his mouth was almost too sore. It tasted of metal and blood. He was so busy trying to chew he almost missed the glittering approval of Michelle's smile.

Abram opened his mouth to argue. An alarm cut him off. Captain Helmo's image appeared on-screen, the star map behind them.

“A third ship has arrived. From the fifth quadrant.” Ean could see it on-screen. It had come in directly behind the alien ship. It was already much closer than the ones within the hundred-kilometer limit and was still moving closer.

The alarm was continual now, a steady wee-wah that got into the bones and made Ean shiver. Loud enough to hear but
not so loud that you couldn't talk over it. Captain Helmo and Abram seemed calm, almost slow in the face of it.

“Pilot would have to be Yannikay,” Captain Helmo said. “No one else could get that close and still be going that fast.”

“How close can she get?”

“I've seen Yannikay couple two freighters together.”

It looked like she was planning to do that here.

They watched the screen as the ship got closer. Abram touched some controls, and distance figures showed up on the starfield. Thirty kilometers. Twenty kilometers. Ten. A green field started to spread out from the alien ship.

The alert changed to a wee-wah-wong, and got louder.

“That's our limit,” Abram muttered.

Yannikay's ship flickered out. She'd jumped.

The Gate Union ships disappeared almost in unison.

Abram shook his head admiringly. “The woman can fly.” He pressed more buttons. “All ships, jump when you can.” He turned to Ean. “Line six, can it jump?”

“I—”

Line six sounded an affirmative in Ean's mind.

“It says it can.” Ean wasn't so sure. “Jumping will probably destroy it.”

“For the good of the ship,” line six insisted, and line one as well. Ean just shrugged. “It says it can.” The engineers had done good work. Ten hours ago, neither of these lines would have had a hope.

Abram nodded. “Do what you can.” He pressed the comms again. “Bhaksir, stand down.” She must have been at the shuttles. “We're going to jump instead.”

It was one way to get out of going on the shuttle, Ean supposed. He wasn't sure which was worse. A shuttle where you would almost certainly get vaporized or jumping in a ship whose lines weren't strong enough. At least the saboteur hadn't destroyed lines nine and ten. But surely, if it had been Rebekah Grimes, she would have done all the lines. Although breaking one line would take less effort than breaking them all, and line six powered the engines that took you through the void. It was sensible, Ean supposed, and pretty much what Abram had planned for the media ships.

The green field kept coming.

“First shuttle gone,” an emotionless voice said from the comms.

For a moment Ean thought they meant the Gate Union shuttles, then he realized the Alliance must have shuttles out there as well.

The green field moved inexorably out and engulfed a second shuttle.

“All shuttles gone,” the emotionless voice said.

The green field kept moving outward.

The bell chimed for the jump. The deep, sonorous voice of line nine started in his head.

Ean readied his voice. All he could do was sing the pieces of line six together for as long as he could.

He suddenly remembered. “The media ships. They'll be destroyed.” He changed his song to include a frantic warning on line five, and projected with everything he had. “Jump. Jump now or you will die.” It was too late. He knew that a ship couldn't jump without preparation. The two ships were doomed.

Line ten cut in.

Another line came on as well. A line Ean had never heard before.

EAN LAMBERT

IN THE ETERNITY
that was the jump, Ean had forever to hear the new line. A heavy, irregular thump-kerthump heartbeat that was out of sync with his own. His own heart tried to match the rhythm.

Line six was disintegrating. He tried to sing it back, but it had no reserve.

Yes he did. Three other line sixes were in the void with him. All were in bad shape, but one was stronger than the others. Ean called some of that line to him, to shore up his own six.

The other-level lines gave what they could, too.

Then eternity ended, and Ean was back on the ship.

Michelle sounded shaken as she said, “I wonder how far you have to be away from him to not feel it.”

Ean's heart tried to get back his own rhythm. He couldn't breathe.

“We're still alive at least,” Abram said, and from the sound of his voice, he hadn't really expected it.

“Maybe I should pay Rigel some more money.”

The comms pinged. Captain Helmo.

Ean gasped and still couldn't get any air into his lungs.

Abram thumbed the comms first. “Medic. Here. Now. We've what looks like a heart attack.”

The medic would probably say it was a good thing.

“Captain,” Abram said to the main screen, while Michelle started pressing down on Ean's chest. Quick hard blows on top of the damage Radko had inflicted earlier.

All Ean wanted to do was breathe.

“Oxygen,” Michelle demanded of Abram, and Abram dragged out an emergency kit from under the counter.

“Put it over his face.”

Even with the oxygen mask on, he still couldn't breathe.

The medic arrived then, at a run. He already had paddles out.

Michelle stepped aside.

The shock jerked Ean up. Again and again, until he thought he'd die from it.

Finally, his heart found his own rhythm, and he could breathe again. He gasped in air.

“Commodore, Your Royal Highness.” Ean had the feeling Captain Helmo had been watching, waiting for the attention to turn back to the comms.”

“Yes.” Even Abram's voice was hoarse.

“Three other ships came through with us. The two media ships and the alien spaceship.”

Ships never traveled the void together. That way led to ships' disappearing, or both of them exploding when they came out.

Four ships together would have caused an explosion almost equivalent to the strength of a sun.

“Not only that,” Captain Helmo said. He flicked up a star chart behind him.

Ean looked at it while he greedily breathed in oxygen. It looked like the same star chart, except that the stars were different, and there was no green field coming out to meet them.

“They all came through in the same relative positions,” Helmo said.

“That's impossible.” Abram stepped up to the screen, as if he could see it better up close.

Ean didn't care what was impossible. He lay back and listened to the lines. Line six was weak, but it was there.

“You did good,” he said, but no sound came out of his mouth.

All the lines were there. All the lines were whole. And there was another line. The slow thump-kerthump of the new line. It permeated the other lines, changing their tone ever so slightly.

An alert cut into the comms. Engineer Tai. “Engineering to Medic. Engineering to Medic.”

“Here,” the medic said tersely.

“Admiral Katida has collapsed. Looks like a heart attack.” He was gasping himself. “A couple of us are having problems here.”

The medic left at a run. Ean breathed in oxygen and listened to the sounds. Abram and Captain Helmo checked statuses. Helmo of the ship, Abram of the people.

Abram made an early public announcement. “This is Commodore Galenos speaking. As you may be aware, the weapon on the ship we were studying was triggered by a Union ship. We have jumped out of danger. Her Royal Highness, Lady Lyan, will address you in the large meeting room in half an hour. Until then, please allow us time to ascertain the status of the ship.”

He cut off the sound, and the comms squawked again immediately. Abram ignored it, but he didn't ignore Helmo when he signaled five seconds later. They must have multiple channels.

“Lines are fine,” Captain Helmo reported. “Not good, but they're all there.”

They weren't unchanged, though. Ean knew he should tell them about the new line, and he would. In a minute.

“Crew are mostly sound,” the captain continued. “The engineering department is worst affected. Admiral Katida, too.”

“Linesmen,” Ean tried to say, but they didn't hear him.

“All of the affected are linesmen,” Captain Helmo said.

“I see.” Abram glanced back to where Ean was still lying on the floor. “The higher levels the worst affected?”

“Yes.”

Abram grunted at that.

Soon after that, two paramedics came in. Ean hadn't heard anyone call them.

“Put him on a couch,” Abram ordered them.

“We could take him to the hospital,” one of them offered.

Abram and Michelle looked at each other.

“No,” Abram said, and Ean was glad about that.

They put him on Michelle's couch. He tried to protest, but he still didn't have any voice and he was too weak to struggle. Faint, fizzy overtones drifted up and tickled his nose. It helped him to center and take back control.

Abram, Michelle, and Helmo were still talking.

“Fiendishly clever,” Abram said. “And deliberate. Take out our engines—after incapacitating the only person on this ship who could prevent that from happening—then trigger the ship. We'd be helpless.”

“But they didn't trigger it straightaway,” Michelle said. “That's what I would do.”

“Because they had people on this ship. They had to get them off. They knew that when this ship was damaged, we would send as many people as we could to the other five ships. They gave those ships time to get away.”

“Or maybe just to give Linesman Grimes time to get to her ship.”

“No,” Abram said. “She had plenty of time. Ean had hours after the Gate Union ships arrived to work on line six. She would have had time to get wherever she wanted to.” He looked to the screen. “What time did the last shuttle of evacuees reach our other ships?”

Captain Helmo checked figures offscreen. “Forty-five minutes prior.”

“Enough time for the traitor to send a message to Yannikay, who must have been waiting. I wonder how they're getting messages through the void?”

“Katida will be disappointed,” Michelle murmured. “That's another thing she doesn't know.”

All three of them laughed suddenly. Stupid laughter, totally out of proportion to the joke. They laughed till tears came out of their eyes. What the spacers around Captain Helmo must have thought Ean had no idea. Even he smiled. The laughter was infectious. On line one, the whole mood of the ship lifted with it.

“Oh, and the media want to interview Lady Lyan,” Captain Helmo said, which set them off again.

Abram eventually wiped his eyes. “It's good to be alive.”

Michelle stood up. “I'd best go tell everyone what's happened.”

Abram went with her. Ean was left alone. Abram was right. It was good to be alive.

•   •   •

THEY
came back, still in good humor.

Michelle dropped onto Ean's couch. “So anyone left on this ship is loyal to us.”

“It's not quite that simple,” Abram said. He looked at Ean. “Do you think you could eat or drink something now?”

Ean wasn't sure. He ached all over, but that was probably Radko rather than the lines, and he needed a drink so he could talk about the new line. He nodded.

Abram called for food, then turned back to Michelle. “Neither Ean nor Katida were given a choice to stay. And although we believe our own people are loyal, we always have to consider they might not be.”

Ean shook his head. Line one wouldn't be so strong if the ship had traitors.

Michelle patted his leg. “We know you're not. At least, if you are, you hide it damn well. We've talked about the possibility a lot.”

Abram blew out between his teeth. “And I really hope Katida isn't either, but you can never tell.” He looked apologetically at Ean. “You understand that we can never be 100 percent sure. We will always consider you a potential risk.”

Food arrived then, along with tea. Ean was too weak to sit up, so Michelle sat beside him and supported him. He was conscious of the warmth of her body. Another time, another place, he would even have enjoyed it. He found time to be glad Michelle didn't know what he was thinking.

She held the glass to Ean's lips.

The tea still tasted like triphene.

It hurt to swallow—all the way down, even into his stomach, where it felt like someone had kicked him.

“What about—?” He still couldn't make any sound.

“Although,” and Abram gazed quizzically at him, “I'm not sure how much of a threat you are without your voice.”

Or how much of a help he'd be either. He was useless baggage if he couldn't sing the lines.

“Right now you're the only one who can possibly explain what's going on out there. Why those ships came with us. Why all the linesmen had heart attacks.”

His heart still wanted to keep the beat of the other line.

“The lines.” It was no use. He couldn't make a sound. He gestured impatiently for Abram's comms and stylus.

It was hard to even make his hands work. The words were shaky, and practically unreadable.
The line. From the other ship. A different rhythm.

They looked at his words for so long that he thought they couldn't read the writing.

“Which line?” Abram finally asked.

Ean shrugged.

“You mean to say that you, of all people, can't tell which line it is.”

“It's not.” He took the stylus again.
A new line. A different line.

They stared at that one a long time, too.

“Are you saying,” Michelle asked finally, “that there's a line eleven?”

Ean shrugged, then nodded. Line eleven was as good a description as any for the moment.

Abram got up to pour them all some more tea. Ean thought he might have needed time to think. “And it's on that ship and somehow reaching across to cause heart attacks here. Is it a weapon?”

Ean shook his head.
All four ships.
He twined his fingers together.
Came through the void, and now they're . . .
He twined his fingers again.
Line eleven very strong. Like a heartbeat.

“All four ships,” Abram said. “It can't just be coincidental that, not counting the alien ship, the two ships that came through are the ones you made an agreement with.”

Ean tried, unsuccessfully, not to flush.

“So it wasn't coincidence?”

Talking to them.
His writing was becoming more legible,
at least. And faster, but it was still a slow way to communicate.
Telling them to jump. Line eleven heard and jumped, too.
It happened sort of like that, anyway. He didn't know why the other ship had jumped with them.

“So now we're linked to two media ships as well as the other one. Do you know how to unlink?”

He shook his head.

Michelle sighed. “I suppose I'd better give those interviews. They look like they'll be around awhile.” She started to laugh. This laughter wasn't catching like the other.

“Sorry,” she apologized, and wiped away tears of what could have been mirth or could just have been tears. “It's just so . . . Here we are on one grand, last-ditch attempt to save the Alliance, which none of us really believed would succeed. We came out here to collect a prize that may just prevent a war. We should be dead. Instead, we have the prize. And now we have our own tame media as well.”

She wiped her eyes again. “I might set up that interview.”

•   •   •

THE
couches also served as an interview area. Ean's couch was the interview chair.

Michelle changed into a deep blue jacket with a lighter blue shirt underneath. The color brought out the blue in her eyes; the soft lights around her added sparkle. She looked good. She always looked good, Ean thought, but she looked really good today. Even the shadows under her eyes were gone, hidden with powder.

She faced the reporters' screen looking honest and trustworthy and every inch a future ruler.

Ean and Abram watched it in the large meeting room, along with the remaining dignitaries. There weren't many left. Twenty at most. Neither of the Tarkans were there. Captain Helmo joined them.

Sean Watanabe, from Blue Sky Media, had the first question. “Lady Lyan, has the Alliance claimed this ship then?”

Michelle's eyes opened wide, innocent. “The Alliance has always claimed this ship, Sean. After all, we found it.”

Coral Zabi, from Galactic News, demanded, “Why force our ships to travel with you?”