Heart Of The Tiger (32 page)

Cobra bit her lip. "Sir, I know we've had our differences, and I know what you told me about accusations. About wanting proof. . . and I don't have any. But I have to say this anyway, even if you're going to throw me in the brig over it. I think there could have been some kind of hidden signal in all that junk. To a Kilrathi agent."

"You're talking about Hobbes, of course," Blair said, frowning. "Lieutenant . . ."

"I didn't say it was Hobbes, sir," Cobra said. "But we know the cats have agents in the Confederation."

Rollins cleared his throat. "Colonel, I think you should hear her out on this. It would explain a lot, if the cats had an agent aboard."

"Like how they keep throwing us softballs in tight corners," Buckley amplified. "Letting us get away at Delius. Ariel, too, if you think about it. They could make jump points disappear, but the second one stayed open for us. And it wasn't defended, either."

Blair looked from one to the other. "It still isn't proof of anything except the fact that both of you have active imaginations," he said at last. "You know where I stand. I don't like having accusations leveled at Hobbes, and all you've really got here is a conspiracy theory." He looked down at his desk. "It's a very serious charge to make . . ."

"Hell, Colonel, I'm not saying it is Hobbes," Cobra told him. "I mean, he's a Kilrathi, and you know how I feel about him, but I know this doesn't prove anything." She Laughed, a short, bitter, humorless sound. "For all I know, Colonel, you're the Kilrathi spy. You love the cats . . . a cat, at least, and you were in command when things went sour at Locanda Four. All I'm saying is that it would explain some pretty strange shit. I think we have to consider it."

"All right, Lieutenant. I'll consider it." Blair leaned back in his chair. "Suppose you two keep looking into the matter, and let me know if you find anything concrete we can use. And keep your suspicions to yourselves. Have you talked with anyone else?"

"No, sir. ' Rollins said. "I was going to take it to the captain, but Cobra wanted to come to you first."

"I didn't want you to think I was going behind your back with this thing, sir," she amplified.

"Good. For now, let's keep the matter between us. That way nobody gets embarrassed by a lot of gossip. Nobody. You read me on this?"

"Yes, sir," Rollins said.

Cobra met his look with a level stare. "Aye, aye, Colonel," she said.

"All right. Dismissed, then."

They both started for the door, but Blair held up a hand. "Mister Rollins. I have some reports for the captain. Stay a moment while I round them up, if you please."

"Yes, sir," he responded.

Blair waited until the door closed behind Cobra. He gave Rollins a long, hard look. "Forgive me, Lieutenant, but I have to ask this. How much stock do you put in all this?"

"Sir? I think there's a lot to consider here."

"How much of this is your idea?"

Rollins frowned. "Well, Lieutenant Buckley came to me asking what I thought about the battle . . . about how the Kilrathi fought it, I mean. She made some good points . . ." He trailed off, frowning. "But I had some suspicions about the signal content already, sir. She had nothing to do with any of that." He hesitated. "Just what are you trying to get at with all this, Colonel?"

Blair sat down heavily. "Cobra makes a good case, give her that. And if I didn't have complete faith in Ralgha nar Hhallas I might be ready to go along with it. But she doesn't know how much we've been through together, Hobbes and I. And all her hate isn't going to make me change my mind about him now."

"She admitted she wasn't pointing any fingers, sir."

"True enough. But ever since I've been on board she's been running Ralgha down. She accused him of everything but mopery and dopery on the spaceways." Blair paused, reluctant to go on, but Rollins was the only one he could talk to, under these circumstances. "There's another possibility I can't help but think about, Lieutenant."

"Sir?"

"Rumor is that Cobra was a Kilrathi slave for ten years. You hear any of that from your sources?"

"Er . . . no, sir. Not really. Some scuttlebutt in the rec room, maybe, but nothing solid."

"I heard it from somebody I trust," Blair told him. Rollins didn't need to know about Rachel Coriolis and her friend from the Hermes. "The point is this: if I was in Kilrathi Intelligence, and wanted to plant spies in the Confederation, I don't think I'd use Kilrathi as agents. They'd have a tough time winning acceptance. I'd use humans, slaves who had grown up in a Kilrathi labor camp. The things they can do with personality overlays are pretty wild from what I've heard, and I'll bet you could make sure they got through debriefing so they were 'rescued' and brought back to Terran space."

"You think Cobra's our spy?" Rollins looked incredulous. "Hell, Colonel, she's the one who suggested we look for a spy!"

"As you said, you already had some questions about those Kilrathi signals." Blair frowned. "You thought there might be other signals buried in there somewhere? Maybe there were — orders, for instance. But a clever spy might want to figure out how much we suspected, and steer our suspicions in an acceptable direction."

"Like Hobbes." Rollins was frowning. "It's. . . how did you put it, Colonel? A conspiracy theory? But I don't see any more proof that it's Cobra than I do for Hobbes. And Cobra . . . she'd have to be one hell of an actress, making believe she hated the cats so much."

"It's pretty thin, isn't it?" Blair gave him a sour smile. "I don't want to believe it, Lieutenant She's a good pilot, and a good wingman. But Hobbes is one of the best friends I ever had."

"Why are you telling me this, sir?"

"I just want you to . . . keep your eyes open. And your mind, too. You two are going to be looking for proof about a spy on board. I just want to make sure none of that proof winds up somewhere it doesn't belong. Like Ralgha's cabin, for example."

"So you want me to spy on Cobra? Is that it, Colonel?"

"I just want you to put that famous Rollins paranoia to work for our side for a change. If there's a spy on this ship, we have to know about it. Whether it's Hobbes, or Cobra, or somebody else entirely. Just don't make the mistake of letting Cobra steer you the wrong way. "He held up his hand. "And I don't just mean because she might be a Kilrathi agent. She could believe everything she's saying, sincerely and totally. But her hate . . . it warps things. I'm counting on you to get past her bias and look at this whole mess objectively."

"I'll. .. do what I can, Colonel," Rollins said. He sounded reluctant. "But I'm not sure I'll like it."

"You think I do? Damn it, I like Cobra, despite the attitude. Despite the bigotry and the hate. Down deep, she's always struck me as somebody to admire for being tough enough to overcome everything she's been through, and for being one hell of a good flyer." He shook his head. "No, Lieutenant, I don't like this any better than you do. But it's something that has to be done."

"Aye, aye, sir, Rollins said quietly.

"Ship's company, atten-SHUN!"

Blair straightened at the crisp order from Eisen, feeling a little uncomfortable in his starched dress uniform with the archaic sword hanging at his side. The assembled crewmen were all dressed in their best, though in some cases it was a little difficult to tell. And despite Maniac's best efforts, there was no disguising the run-down appearance of Victory herself. He remembered his own first impression of the carrier's shabby, overused fittings, and wondered what the admiral would make of it all.

He found himself wondering when had he come to accept the carriers faults, to think of the ship as his home?

The crewmen lined up in ranks on either side of a red carpet that was unrolled to the shuttle's door. It looked out of place on the flight deck, gleaming, new, a gaudy bauble cast into a peasant's hovel.

The door opened slowly, and Admiral Tolwyn stepped into view, pausing to survey the deck before descending the ramp. A trio of aides followed him, Kevin Tolwyn conspicuous among them, and a pair of Marine sentries brought up the rear. Geoff Tolwyn was dressed in the plain tunic of a deck officer, the only sign of his rank the cluster of stars pinned to his lapel.

Eisen stepped forward to meet him. "An honor and a privilege to have you aboard, Admiral," he said, snapping off a salute.

Tolwyn returned it. "Pleasure to be here, Captain," he said. His roving eye caught sight of Blair. "Colonel Blair, good to see you."

Blair saluted, saying nothing.

He turned back to Eisen. "This is the beginning of a momentous campaign, Captain. The end of the war is in sight at last." He gestured toward a second shuttle that was just opening up to disgorge the rest of his staff and entourage. "Let's get to work, gentlemen," Tolwyn announced and he headed for the bridge. Blair fell in behind the Admiral. Geoff Tolwyn had a reputation as a man who got things done . . . he hoped the man would live up to that reputation now.

"Scotch," Blair told Rostov. "Make it a double."

"Sounds like you're having a bad day, Colonel. That was Flint, coming toward the bar behind him. "Not looking forward to dinner with the Admiral?"

As he took his glass from Rostov and turned to meet her, Blair's look was sour. "Let's just say there are things I like better . . . like being out on the firing line with my missiles gone and my shield generators down."

She smiled. "Must feel like old home week, though. I mean, Maniac, and Hobbes, and now Admiral Tolwyn. And Thrakhath, for that matter. Who's next?"

For a moment he saw Angel in his mind's eye, and it must have shown in his expression. Flint's smile vanished. "Sorry . . ." she said. "That was stupid of me. I should have realized . . ."

"Never mind, Blair said, shaking his head. "It was just force of habit, I guess. I get to thinking about the people I've flown with, and she's right at the top of the list."

"I know," Flint said quietly. "It was that way with Davie too. One minute, you're fine. The next . . . Bamm! The memories just won't let go."

"Yeah." He took a sip. "Look, Flint, I never took the time to thank you for what you did back there at Delius. I was just about ready to circle back and go after Thrakhath. You're the one who got through to me. I won't forget it."

"You did it for me," she said. "And took a lot more risks. I was just looking out for my wingman." Flint hesitated. "Angel — Colonel Devereaux — tell me about her. She was in Covert Ops, wasn't she?"

Blair studied her through narrowed eyes. "I didn't think that was common knowledge," he said slowly. "Are you a mind-reader, or have you been cultivating some of Rollins' sources?"

She laughed. "Neither one. Just . . . a student of history. I try to make it a point to study things and people. For instance, the way I hear it, you and Admiral Tolwyn have crossed paths a time or two before."

"Bumped heads is more like it," Blair told her. "He's a good man, in his own way. I just have a little trouble dealing with his ambition. It puts lives on the line. And he's always been big on rules and regulations."

"I know the type," Flint said. "He knows the rulebook backwards and forwards . . . he just doesn't know anything about the human heart."

"Can't argue with you there, Flint," he said. His mind went back to that time aboard the Tiger's Claw, when the admiral made the carrier the flagship of a ramshackle squadron. He took her into action against overwhelming odds to hold off a Kilrathi fleet until Terran relief forces could arrive. At the height of the action he relieved old Captain Thorn, the ship's commanding officer, and filed charges against him for cowardice in the face of the enemy. Thorn had later been reinstated, but no one serving with the old man ever quite forgot the day.

There was a short, awkward silence before Flint spoke again. "I . . . I was serious about wanting to hear about Angel. If it would help to talk about her at all . . . well, I'm a good listener."

Blair hesitated. "I appreciate it, Flint, I really do. But. . ." He shrugged. "Maybe another time. I'm . . . supposed to meet someone."

At that moment the door opened and Rachel Coriolis came in, greeting him with a cheerful wave. Flint looked from Rachel to Blair.

"I see. I'm sorry . . . I didn't know you moved quite that fast. Colonel." She turned and walked away before he could respond.

Admiral Tolwyn took over a set of interconnected compartments one deck below the bridge; one of these was converted into a dining room with a table able to seat twelve. Blair was the first to arrive, and Tolwyn greeted him with a hearty smile and a handshake.

"Ah, Colonel," he said expansively. "Let's hope that this is our last cruise together."

Blair felt a flicker of apprehension. The comment could be interpreted several different ways and he wondered if subconsciously Tolwyn was revealing an anxiety about his plan to end the war.

Tolwyn glanced around the room. Though clean and reasonably neat, there was no disguising the fading paintwork, the frayed carpets, or the general air of age and neglect that permeated the entire ship. "I never dreamed that we'd be reduced to pulling ships like this back into the front line. The Battle of Terra put us on the ropes, no matter what the government is now saying about it being a glorious victory. One more victory like that and the human race will be a forgotten footnote in the history of the universe!"

Tolwyn looked away for a moment. "When will this end," he whispered. Blair watched him closely, surprised at the clear evidence of strain.

"She's a good ship, Admiral," Blair said quietly. "And Eisen's a good captain. We haven't had much time for spit and polish lately. The Kilrathi have been keeping us busy.