The Rise of Earth (29 page)

She offered him a small smile, but he shook his head, determined to deflect the praise he'd so often sought.

“I didn't do the right thing,” he said. “If I could do
it over again, I'd make a different choice. An
honorable
choice.”

Diocletia's smile vanished. “Then the Jovian Union would be worse off. And so would your family.”

Tycho nodded numbly, pierced by the realization that he'd never again see Kate smile at him, never see warmth in her dark eyes. He'd never get to lose his fingers in the tangles of her black curls, or watch her hurry to cross the distance between them more quickly. He had thrown all that away—not by accident or through inaction, but deliberately.

“Would you really have done it, Mom?” Yana asked. “Opened the ship to vacuum?”

Diocletia's eyes searched the stars spilled across the void beyond the viewports. “We had a mission. I would have completed it.”

I
t was an hour into the middle watch when the Jovian and Earth craft returned to 65 Cybele, holding their positions as various captains insisted—with the exaggerated politeness of recent enemies—that the other be first to dock or land.

The arrival of the
Leviathan
sent Cybelean traffic control into a frenzy, with a harried administrator first claiming that the dromond would have to wait until morning to dock. Diocletia's suggestion that she could
park the
Leviathan
in the middle of the traffic-control tower probably didn't help, but it did frighten the Jovian consulate into waking up higher-ranking Cybelean officials, and they were able to coax the bureaucratic wheels into creaky motion.

Since docking was clearly going to take a while, Tycho got permission from Diocletia to leave the bridge, descending the ladderwell and wandering for a while until he found the officers' cuddy. He found Yana huddled in the corner with a jump-pop and her mediapad. Her eyes were red and watering.

“What's wrong?” Tycho asked.

Yana swiped irritably at her cheeks with the back of her hand, looking away.

“It's nothing.”

“Come on. You don't need to act tough with me.”

“I guess you already know anyway,” she said, shoving her mediapad over to Tycho. “This message arrived as soon as we reached Cybelean local space.”

YANA,

BY THE TIME YOU READ THIS I WILL BE GONE. I AM NOT TAKEN BY CRIMPS OR STRAGGLING THO THAT WUD BE EASY TO LET EVERY ONE BELEVE. YANA I AM A SON OF SATURN AND I CAN NO LONGER DENY THAT. THE JOVIAN UNION HAS NOT GIVEN US OUR RITES AND THEY WILL NOT GIVE US OUR RITES THAT IS CLEAR TO ME NOW COS THEY CAN NOT EVEN TREAT YOU AND YOUR FAMILY RITE AND YOU ARE THER CONTRYMAN YANA. SO HOW CAN I EXPECT
RITE TREATMENT FOR ME A SATURNEAN. I MUST DO WAT I BELEVE YANA AND THAT IS TO FITE FOR MY PEPLE SO THEY HAVE THE SAME RITES YOU ENJOY AND THAT PEPLE ENJOY ON EARTH. I AM SORRY TO HURT YOU YOU HAVE BEEN GOOD TO ME. YOU WILL BE A GRATE CAPTAIN ONE DAY YANA AND I MISS YOU ALREDY. REMEMBER ME.

IMMANUEL

“I'm sorry, sis,” Tycho said.

“Your girlfriend's an Earth noble and my boyfriend's an Ice Wolf,” Yana said with a small smile. “What's next, Carlo taking up with a Martian separatist?”

“What's that?” Carlo asked from the doorway. Tycho and Yana looked up, startled.

“Nothing,” Yana said, her face turning hard. Stone-faced, she scooped up her mediapad and pushed past Carlo.

“Wait, I didn't mean . . . ,” Carlo said to his sister's departing back. He turned back to Tycho, looking crestfallen.

“Just forget it,” Tycho said. “It has nothing to do with you.”

“Okay,” Carlo said, perching uncertainly on the cuddy's padded bench, as far as he could get from his brother.

“I'm sorry about your girlfriend,” Carlo said after a moment.

“I think it's safe to say she isn't my girlfriend now.”

Carlo nodded. “I heard what you said about doing the honorable thing. Mom didn't seem to agree.”

“I don't care what Mom thinks about it. Or anybody else, for that matter.”

Carlo retreated into silence. Tycho glanced up and found him studying his hands on the tabletop, his teeth working at his lower lip.

“What would you have done?” Tycho asked. He wasn't sure if he was trying to bait his brother or if he was genuinely curious.

Carlo opened his mouth, closed it, and then shook his head. “I don't know. I don't know anything anymore.”

They sat there for a while, listening to the thrum of the
Leviathan
's air scrubbers.

“Do you think Mom really would have opened the
Leviathan
to space?” Carlo asked.

“Yeah.”

“Would
you
have done it?”

“No,” Tycho said. “I couldn't have. Would you?”

“No. I couldn't have either.”

Morning came all too quickly, and along with it orders for the Hashoones to return to the Jovian consulate. They found themselves in the familiar conference room overlooking the Well, with the other privateer crews filing in slowly. By the fragile, haunted expressions on their faces, Tycho guessed there'd been a fairly legendary shindy to mark the end of active hostilities with Earth.

“Why are we here again?” Yana leaned over to ask Mavry.

Mavry yawned. “Maybe it's important to the future of the Jovian Union that we learn to fold napkins properly.”

Huff was snoring contentedly in the chair next to Tycho when Vass and an aide entered the conference room and took seats by the door. Two Gibraltar Artisans cyborgs followed them in and stood at attention, studying the privateers.

“By now you've heard the rumors about negotiations between our envoy and Earth's,” Vass told the bleary-eyed spacers. “I'm pleased to announce that the rumors are true. We've reached an agreement to cease hostilities here at Cybele.”

Tycho elbowed Huff, who woke up with a snort, his living eye roving around the room.

“His Majesty has withdrawn the letters of marque issued to all Earth privateers,” Vass said. “And talks about a closer relationship between Earth and Cybele have adjourned and are not expected to resume.”

“So it's a draw, then?” demanded Canaan Bickerstaff. “What good is that?”

“Against the power of Earth, a draw is a great victory,” Vass said with a smile. “His Majesty was embarrassed to see the return of the
Nestor
Leviathan
hailed as a Jovian triumph, and furious to learn the Cybeleans used their neutrality to build a battleship for the Ice Wolves. His conclusion is that Earth has overextended its forces, and a pullback from the Cybeles would be a gesture of good
faith in seeking a more lasting peace.”

“Arrrr, I'll believe that one when I see it,” Huff muttered.

“I share your skepticism, Captain Hashoone,” Vass said. “But by stopping the rise of Earth in this region of the solar system, we have eliminated a considerable threat to the security of the Jovian Union. Ladies and gentlemen, your country owes all of you a debt.”

“How big a debt?” asked Dmitra Barnacus, to laughter from the privateers.

“That will be established by the Defense Force upon review of your contributions here at Cybele. But all of you will be compensated. And those ships that responded to Captain Andrade's call for assistance will share in the reward for the rescue of the
Leviathan
. A rescue for which we have Captain Hashoone and her crew to thank—particularly Master Tycho Hashoone.”

Tycho managed a pallid smile. He'd had only a couple of hours of sleep at their temporary quarters, during which he'd woken up repeatedly after dreaming Kate had sent a furious message to his mediapad. Each time he checked, he found his message queue empty, and by dawn he'd realized that no message would be coming—not today, not tomorrow, and not ever.

And that was so much worse.

“And what about the Ice Wolves?” asked Garibalda Marta Andrade. “There's a pretty big battleship out there somewhere, Minister.”

“We are analyzing instrument readings and
communications logs from the encounter. We will find the ship, and eliminate it as a threat. And we are actively investigating the Titan affair that apparently funded its construction.”

“In other words, we ain't tellin' you lot nothin',” Huff growled to Tycho.

“Now then,” Vass said over the hubbub. “With His Majesty canceling privateering operations, President Goddard has decided on peace overtures of her own. Therefore, the letters of marque issued for this campaign are being withdrawn effective immediately.”

“What?” demanded Baltazar Widderich.

“I assure you that all condemnations taken to date shall be honored if approved by an admiralty court,” Vass said, pitching his voice to be heard above the privateers' angry voices. “Expenses incurred as you return to your home ports shall be paid, of course. And previous letters of marque remain valid. President Goddard thanks you for your service, captains—as do I. And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm afraid I have more meetings today than you can imagine.”

The diminutive minister levered himself out of his seat and strode from the room, his aide hurrying along in his wake. The cyborg soldiers pivoted on their heels and exited as well, leaving the privateers all talking at once, fists and stumps pounding on the table.

“What was it they called us at Saturn?” Tycho asked Yana. “Irregulars?”

“I ain't standin' for this,” Baltazar Widderich said,
his yellow teeth bared. “They can't give me a commission and then yank it away again without so much as a by-your-leave.”

“It ain't right,” Karst Widderich snarled.

“You heard the minister—you will be compensated for prizes and expenses,” Andrade said, fixing the Widderiches with a steady gaze.

“Easy for you to say, Garibalda,” Canaan Bickerstaff growled. “You three captains still have your fancy letters of marque. The rest of us have nothin'—if we do the same thing today we did yesterday, we won't be cheered as patriots but hanged as pirates.”

“Ain't nothin' wrong with bein' a pirate,” Dmitra Barnacus said. “'Cept maybe our saintly president not approvin' of it no more now that it ain't useful to her.”

“There is also the prospect of being hanged,” Zhi Ning said. “I dislike the idea.”

“Eh, they can only hang you once,” Dmitra said, looking around the table with a wolfish gleam in her eye. “Listen, you lot. When the excitement started, some of us set up camp at 588 Achilles—we've dry docks and lodgings and even a depot. And a grog shop or two, naturally. You're all invited to make it a new port of operations—unless you'd rather get back to haulin' freight and payin' taxes.”

Huff leaned forward, his living eye bright and his forearm cannon quivering madly.

“Shouldn't discuss that around these respectable types,” Baltazar said warningly.

“That's right,” Karst said. “They ain't like us real pirates.”

“Say that agin an' I'll settle yer hash,” Huff warned Karst.

“I've served with all three of these captains,” Dmitra said. “They won't betray us. And they're welcome to count themselves among us if they like.”

The former privateers' eyes slid to the Hashoones and the crews of the
Izabella
and the
Berserker
.

“I serve the Jovian Union,” Andrade said, getting to her feet. “And I will continue to do so.”

“And does it serve you, Gari?” Dmitra asked.

Andrade said nothing, but led her bridge crew out of the room. Dmitra watched her go, then turned her eyes to Morgan Theo.

“This is a family decision,” he said. “I'll have to consult with my father.”

“You do that,” Dmitra said. “And give old Min my love.”

As Morgan and his crewers stood, Dmitra leaned back in her chair and eyed Diocletia.

“And you, Dio? What do you say?”

“Arr, Dio—” Huff began, but his daughter put up her hand, eyes flashing.

“When Carina and I were middies, many of you helped teach us the pirate trade,” she said. “Some of you were at 624 Hektor when everything changed. And all of us knew Jupiter pirates who never came back from that place.”

Some of the privateers scowled at the rarely uttered name of the battle, while others nodded.

“What's the use, she ain't gonna join—” began Baltazar Widderich, but Yana leaped to her feet.

“You shut your mouth when my captain's talking. And that goes for your parrot brother too.”

“That will do, Yana,” Diocletia said. “I've raised my children as privateers—not because it's what I wanted for them, but because it's what was possible. I've tried to teach them to abide by the laws of space, and to pursue our trade with whatever honor is possible—honor for our fellow privateers and our enemies alike. The heading you're on won't lead to glory, but to the gibbet. I won't risk that for my family.”

Baltazar muttered something all of them chose not to hear. Diocletia got to her feet, and one by one the rest of the Hashoones did the same. Huff was the last to stand, grimacing as he braced himself on his forearm cannon.

“So be it, Diocletia,” Dmitra said, her eyes jumping to Huff and then sliding to Tycho and Yana. “If any of you change your mind, you'll know where to find us.”

Several Comets were coming at 1200 to collect the Hashoones' gear and bring it to the landing field. Tycho packed his duffel bag hastily, eager to leave Cybele—the Well, the Jovian fondaco, and even the persistent chill reminded him of Kate, of what he'd done and what he'd lost.

He'd finished zipping up his bag and was wondering how to fill the next hour when someone knocked. Carlo was standing in the doorway, wearing his parka.

“Uh, can I talk to you, Tyke?”

“About what?”