The Iron Admiral: Conspiracy (19 page)

“Who is it?”

“Preston, Madam. I’m Master Roland’s major domo. I’ve come to collect Admiral Saahren’s things.”

She stood and opened the door to a compact older man with the look of a butler; neat, restrained and

polite.

She stepped aside. “Help yourself. Where’s he going?”

“He will share with Mister Tyne.’

There wasn’t much to collect. The door closed behind Preston and the tears welled again.

Allysha poked her head around the door to her quarters and checked out the corridor. This was the

‘night’ part of the ship’s cycle. The only person on deck should be Roland, who had the roster. Nobody around, the only sound the soft rumble of the life support systems. She padded aft down the passage past the other three double rooms and down the rear stairs into the bowels of the ship.

She slipped into the galley. A conical form rested in a corner. Grallaz. His eyes glinted in the soft light and his ever-moving tentacles swayed as if in a gentle breeze.

“Are you all right? Where have they put you up?” she asked in Ptorix.

“I rest here in the galley and I share the crew washroom,” he said. “It is enough.”

“It’s disgusting. Just because you’re Tor.”

“Peace, Allysha.” He laid quivering tentacles on her arm. “I cannot use their beds, they have no resting platforms. Friend Tyne has made sure I am comfortable. And you must know I need little rest.”

“True. It’s just…” she waved a hand. “I don’t know. I just wish we could all get on.”

“Roland is not comfortable with Tors but few humans are. It does not matter.” His eyes swirled green, interested but tranquil. “Why have you come?”

“Jossur.”

The color of his eyes darkened to deepest red. Sadness. “Terrible. A terrible tragedy.”

“What do you think happened? Who caused the destruction?”

“Think? I have heard it said that Admiral Saahren ordered his two ships to bombard the planet.”

Yes. Savage glee surged through her. He’d heard the same as her. At least she wasn’t deluded.

His tentacles swirled, like seaweed in a slow swell. Thoughtful, evaluating. “But I have also heard it said that the battleshipXeveres collided with the space station and both crashed.”

Damnation. “Blast it, Grallaz, which is true? Which do you believe?”

“What is true is that many died, that Jossur is many, many years from recovery. That the devastation was the result of war.”

“So you’re saying it doesn’t matter if he… if Admiral Saahren ordered the destruction?”

“The end result is the same. But yes, it matters if he matters to you. And he does. But I’m sorry, truly sorry, little one. I cannot say.”

“He doesn’t matter to me.”

He passed his tentacles over his speaking mouth. “Then the answer would not matter.”

Damnation. Even a Tor could see through her.

“I do not understand why you will not talk with him. But then, I am ptorix.”

“What is there to talk about, Grallaz? It comes down to did he deliberately bombard Jossur or not?”

“He says he did not. And you do not wish to believe him.”

Her shoulders sagged. She couldn’t just believe him. She’d gone down that path too often. “Thanks,

Grallaz. May your cave glow with light.” She twined her fingers in his tentacles.

She slipped back up into the passage, by-passed the stairs to the lounge and opened the hatch to the

bridge. Roland sat in the captain’s chair, feet up on the console, listening to music. He swung his feet down when she came in.

“Well, hello. Sit down, do.” He waved a hand at the engineer’s work station. “I trust you’ve recovered from your disappointment?”

She ignored the jibe and the solicitous look on his face.

“I wanted to ask you about Forenisi and what happened at Jossur.”

“Ah.” He pulled his lip between his teeth. “Well, Admiral Saahren told you the truth, darling. No

planetary bombardment. The battleshipXeveres had only just dropped its tethers from the space station and was underway when the missiles struck. The ship veered off course and collided with the station,

forcing them both down into the atmosphere. The rest, as they say, is history.” He brought his hand down sharply on the arm of the chair. “Splat.”

Allysha winced. Her mind filled with images of bodies, burning, carnage, hurrying figures, flattened

houses, smoke. “That’s what the Confederacy Fleet told you?”

“Yes. But don’t imagine I believe everything they tell me. I have my sources amongst the ptorix. It’s the truth.”

He leaned toward her. “But even if it wasn’t… you don’t want to be stuck with a Fleet officer, do you?

They’re away from home most of the time, off in space. You’d be at home in some fancy barracks with

the rest of the wives, playing paddle bat or bounce ball or discussing your kids or wondering who he was having it off with on his next planetary visit. Somehow I can’t see you in that role.”

Neither could Allysha. She hadn’t thought about that aspect of marriage to him. She hadn’t thought

about marriage at all.

“No. But… I’d still like to know the truth.” If only to put to bed the ghosts of the past, the whispers of guilt, the regret.

“Yes, he lied to you rather a lot, didn’t he?”

“Thanks for your time.” She pulled herself out of the chair. A father confessor figure she didn’t need.

Roland’s face became serious. “Look, if you ever want a job, come and talk to me. You have incredible skills. I could use somebody like you.”

“Could you, though?” She grinned.I’ll bet . “Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.”

He must have noticed the curl of her lip. “It doesn’t have to be physical, Allysha. I’d pay you wonderful money for your ability to speak Ptorix and your amazing computer skills. I’m an investigative journalist, remember? I want information wherever I can get it. You can get it so many ways.”

“Goodnight, Mister Roland.”

“Marius. Call me Marius,” he called after her.

Hell’s teeth. That makes three of them. Sean, Saahren and Roland.

Hardly aware, she walked back to her quarters. And stopped. A tall figure stood outside her door.

Saahren, bare to the waist, the soft light casting shadows that accentuated the curves of his muscles.

“What do you want?” she said.

He smiled. Seductive, predatory and very, very sexy.

Her legs turned to water, her insides to mush. “Excuse me. It’s late.”

He didn’t move. “It is. You’ve talked to everyone but me.”

“I have nothing to say to you.” Her heart beat faster.

“I can prove my ships did not go into orbit around Jossur. The ships’ logs will—”

“Ships’ logs? You’re talking to me.” She pointed at her chest. “You want me to believe in the sanctity of ship’s logs? I won’t believe anybody except the people I trust on Carnessa, back at home.”

He stared down at her, his eyes impenetrable as black holes. “And if I am vindicated?”

“That’s for the future, isn’t it? Better get this Brjyl thing done first.” She tried to sidle past him.

“Allysha, do not mention the virus. Not to anyone.”

She stopped. “Why?”

“Because even knowledge of it is dangerous. It is a deadly weapon and there are those – like van

Tongeren and the GPR – who would do anything to have it in their hands.”

“Trust no-one, right?”

He nodded.

“I can manage that.” Starting with him.

He stood aside.

Inside her room she leaned against the closed door, eyes shut to press back the tears. Damn and blast the man. Why couldn’t he have been Sergeant Stone? Even Senior Commander Stone?

Sean pushed through the crowd of tour operators waiting to meet holiday makers in the arrivals area at Tau Ceti. Van Tongeren waited at the exit, dressed in a blue business suit, very different from his attire on Tisyphor. Although the mine manager looked outwardly calm and controlled, Sean noticed the tension around his eyes and his mouth, which made him even more nervous.

“Everything all right?” asked Sean as they walked toward the lounge.

“Of course.” Van Tongeren shot him a look that said ‘not now’. That was all right. They could find a booth with a privacy screen. And Sean had a screen of his own that Allysha had made for him. Even better.

Van Tongeren waited until the waiter brought his order of Lochandor—nice looking sort with blonde hair and a great set of tits—before he activated the booth’s privacy screen. Sean surreptitiously turned on his own screening device, hidden in a pocket.

“The Feds have taken over Tisyphor.” Van Tongeren’s glass sat on the table in front of him, untouched.

Sean sucked in a mouthful of Lochandor. “How’d they find out?”

Van Tongeren’s lips lifted in a snarl. “How do you think? Yourtarvishta wife and her new boyfriend.

They’ve rounded up a few people on Chollarc, so that supply of weapons is ended. I’ll have to delay supply.” He picked up the glass in front of him. His knuckles were white.

Sean put his glass back on the table. “I guess there’ll be some disappointed customers.”

“For now. There are other ways.”

Sean nodded. Surely he hadn’t been brought all the way here to listen to the man’s smuggling woes? He waited, watching the other man’s eyes.

“I take it you haven’t found her? Your wife?”

“No. We went after the ship that picked them up. It was supposed to be headed to Kentor but it never arrived. So either they changed destination part-way through the trip or something happened to them.

And then we got your message for me to meet you here.” And he’d sure love to know why.

“I thought perhaps they might have gone to Malmos. But we have agents at the space stations there. Do you have any ideas on where she might’ve gone?”

“She’s never been away much. Only Brjyl and Tisyphor. I’d guess she’d want to go home to Carnessa.

That was going to be my next try.”

“Oh, yes. What about the boyfriend?”

“You’re making an assumption. He might not be a boyfriend at all; just someone she met.” She’d never messed about with boyfriends before. Why now?

Van Tongeren swirled the liquor in his glass. “Well, if she’s gone to Carnessa, that suits very well. You can kill two birds with one stone.”

Kill? Where was this going?

“You said you’d deliver your wife. You didn’t. Tepich is not happy. Neither am I.”

Sean slammed down another swig of Lochandor. “It wasn’t my fault she took off with Stone.”

“Perhaps if you’d spent a little less time with the floozies on Tisyphor and a little more time with her, she wouldn’t have found it necessary to take up with Stone.”

He flinched. “Yeah, well. What about her? She’d hardly been there five minutes when she took up with whatsisname… that researcher.”

The smile on van Tongeren’s face was strange. “Yes, that’s true. Korns; Jarrad Korns. But he left quite soon.” Sean opened his mouth but van Tongeren waved the matter away. “Never mind. I want you to fetch her so she can fulfill the other half of our agreement. But before that, there’s something else I want you to do.”

Sean stared at the man. He’d sat opposite people like him on too many gaming tables. Van Tongeren held a full house. “You’re not going to harm her?”

“Of course not. We have work for her to do.”

That was true. The man had no reason to harm her. He didn’t completely trust van Tongeren but if he didn’t find Allysha he wouldn’t get paid. And if Bronx found him… he shuddered at the thought.

“What else do you want me to do?”

“Nothing large. Just make a delivery.”

“What of? To whom?”

“This.” Van Tongeren took a small canister out of his briefcase and handed it to Sean.

Sean inspected the container, turning it over in his fingers. It was heavier than he might have expected.

Sealed. The label said ‘hospital grade disinfectant’, the sort of stuff used to kill serious bacteria. He didn’t believe for a moment that was what was inside.

“What’s in it?”

Van Tongeren laughed. The sound was loud within the confines of the screened booth. “Just a little something for the toe rags to think about. The situation with Qerra isn’t going as well as my people would like. Bloom’s been replaced as president and Saahren’s been recalled. We intend to hurry things along a little. You deliver to this person.” He handed Sean a card with a name and address.

Sean read the details. “Easy enough.” If more than a little bit surprising. He sat back, eyes narrowed in thought as he lifted his glass to his lips. What was really in the canister? Maybe it was some sort of bomb, or a gas. Whatever it was, it was clear van Tongeren wouldn’t tell him.

“And then you bring me your wife.”

He met van Tongeren’s eyes, cold as ice and with less compassion. The man was a snake. “Sure.”

Van Tongeren’s voice purred. “We’ve been inconvenienced, O’Reilly. My masters are becoming impatient. If you can’t deliver her, I’ll just have to find someone else to do it for you. And if I have to do that…” he shrugged and the half grin turned nasty. “I’ll expect compensation. And believe me, you won’t like it.”

The hairs stood up on the back of his neck. Fuck. Not much doubt what that meant. He had to find Allysha or he was a dead man. Bronx on one side, van Tongeren on the other.

He forced himself to smile. “If she’s there I can deliver.” He could explain. She’d understand. Who was he trying to fool? Maybe he could just throw himself on her mercy? That might work.Oh, Ally, I didn’t mean for it to be like this, please help me . Somehow he had a sinking feeling she wasn’t going to want to come out to play. Oh, fuck.

Van Tongeren leaned forward, finger raised. “First things first, O’Reilly; you get that canister where it has to go. Then you bring her back here. Understood?”

Sean drained his glass and set it back on the table. “Understood.”

News Houndexited the jump gate at Brjyl. The harness bit into Allysha’s shoulders and thighs as the ship slowed down. The planet floated in space, a brownish marble draped with white streaks of cloud.