Eleven hours to go.
Every section had reported in, and every work detail was on schedule. This was to be expected. In the standard year since the invisibility field had activated, Daisy Hub had hosted about a dozen Nandrian victory parties. Each time, the docking modules at the north end of the Hub had had to be separated and reconnected, twice. By now, Townsend’s crew had the routine down pat.
Soaring Hawk’s team was working with Gouryas and Singh to make sure the operation would proceed without a hiccup. Soaring Hawk himself was attending to the spotter shuttle, Devil Bug, tuning its propulsion systems to optimum. Will DeVries, the crewman who would be alone on A Deck working the controls, had been practicing with the sim program Lydia had created earlier.
It was encouraging to hear that something was going according to plan. In the past four hours, there had been no news from Karlov regarding the Odysseus hunt. Just considering the possibility that the little alien could come scuttling out of a tube car booming, “Java-java-java!” in the middle of the Nandrian welcoming ceremony was enough to give Drew a permanent facial tic.
He had been awake at this point for more than twenty standard hours and was having trouble remembering the words of his speech. Townsend hated having to leave AdComm while the Mitradean problem remained unsolved, but common sense (and Ruby and Lydia) demanded that he go to his quarters to get some sleep. Reluctantly, he complied.
Just as he was about to step through the door of his suite, he heard a faint but unmistakable voice coming toward him along the corridor.
“Java! I love java! Hoo-hoo!”
Drew straddled the threshold to keep the door from closing, then bellowed in his most authoritative voice, “Odysseus! Get in here! Now!”
To his amazement, Odysseus obeyed. Maybe the caffeine was finally wearing off. Regardless, it was best not to take chances. As soon as the little alien was inside the room with him, Townsend sealed the door shut.
“Odysseus,” he said firmly, “we have to talk.”
The Mitradean’s carapace was a muddy brown color. He reared up on his four hind legs, rocking back and forth on his tail. His eyes were rolling and swaying as well. They looked as though they were operating on separate circuits.
Cautiously, Drew asked him, “How do you feel?”
“Strange.” This uncertain voice was coming from the metal box stuffed under the edge of his shell. “I have never felt like this before. I don’t like it. Everything is moving.”
“Listen to me. In a little while, two ships will be arriving. I need you to remain here until they leave.”
“Why is everything moving?”
“Odysseus? Odysseus! Close your eyes and pay attention! You have to stay here until the Nandrians are gone.”
A screeching noise erupted from the box, piercing Townsend’s skull like an arrow.
“Nandrians? Here? I must hide!” wailed the voice.
With a hand clapped to his temple, Drew exclaimed, “Yes! That’s what I’ve been saying.”
“Why are they here? Earth space is safe for Mitrades. The Takamura Human promised me—!” The segmented carapace had darkened almost to black. The alien’s front legs were gyrating wildly.
“Calm down!” Townsend ordered. “You are safe here. The Nandrians are visiting for a short time only.”
“They will see my ship. They will tell the Great Council! I will be hunted and cast out!”
Odysseus was already a refugee. Under the circumstances, Drew didn’t see how being shunned could make things worse for him. However…
“Let me worry about concealing your ship. You just need to rest for now and let your body recover from the ja— from the caffeine you’ve ingested. And if you feel the need to throw up…? Please! Do it in there,” he added, turning and pointing to the hygiene closet.
Thud.
Drew spun around, startled. The alien was lying on his back on the deck, his eyestalks completely retracted, his eight legs sticking up in the air. Townsend’s heart nearly stopped. Then he heard a soft, clicking sound that couldn’t possibly be coming from the little metal box, and he was able to breathe again.
He opened a channel to AdComm and instructed Ruby to call off the search. She laughed when he told her where the Mitradean was and what he was doing, but Drew was too tired to care. As soon as he’d signed off, he flung himself onto his bed and was very soon unconscious himself.
—— «» ——
“Hey, Chief! It’s morning, and this is your wake-up call.”
Ruby’s obscenely cheerful voice interrupted the first pleasant dream Drew could remember having since his arrival on Daisy Hub. “Okay, I’m up,” he grumped. “What time is it?”
“The Nandrians are a couple of hours away. I figured you’d want to have some breakfast and go over your speeches once or twice before they got here. Is Odysseus still snoring?”
He checked. “Yep. Still out cold.”
“Do you want a guard posted at your door in case he tries to leave?”
“I don’t think it will be necessary. Odysseus won’t be a problem. His ship, however, is another matter. I want you to seal off the landing deck. It’s to be off-limits to everyone for as long as the Nandrians are with us. Dock Devil Bug at one of the modules on A Deck once the top of the Hub is reconnected. And spread the word to the crew that no one is to mention we have a Mitradean aboard. Odysseus is terrified the Nandrians will hand him over to the Great Council. We can’t let them find out that he’s here.”
“So he’s a fugitive as well as a refugee? Interesting. Consider it done, Chief.”
—— «» ——
Two hours later, Townsend was standing on A Deck, flanked by Ruby McNeil and Gavin Holchuk, waiting for six reptilian warriors to emerge from two of the docking portals. Yoko the Überrat sat in her cage at his feet, still refusing to let him hold her during the welcoming ceremony.
“I’ll bet your clone wouldn’t be so picky,” he’d muttered as she’d slithered out of his arms yet again. Maybe Holchuk was right and Yoko did know something about him that the rest of the crew didn’t. Maybe it was a damned good thing she couldn’t talk.
He heard the familiar hiss of a docking portal unsealing and a door sliding aside.
Just one?
Drew shot Holchuk a puzzled look as three hulking Nandrians stepped slowly through the opening and halted a respectful distance away. They were wearing red sashes over their uniforms, fastened at the shoulder with ornate pins. And they were stone cold sober.
“There’s something wrong, boss man,” Holchuk murmured. “Look at his sleeve markings. That’s not the Chief Officer. It’s not even the Second Officer.”
Dread trickled icily down Drew’s back. All his instincts were screaming at him to make up an excuse and send the Nandrians back to their ship. But this was a fiercely ceremonial warrior race, House Drellith especially so, and he had no intention of inviting disembowelment for failing to stick to tradition and follow the script. Drawing in a huge breath, he began to speak.
“Greetings, honored guests from House Drellith, and welcome to House Daisy Hub. Daisy Hub has a glorious history dating back to—”
“Forgive us, Hak’kor. We mean no offence, but we must break with ritual,” said the leading Nandrian.
Oka-ay, this was different, not to mention possibly dangerous. Unfortunately, remaining silent was not an option for the Hak’kor. He had to reply. Mentally crossing his fingers for luck, Townsend pointed out in a tone of voice he hoped wouldn’t be taken as an insult, “You have already broken with ritual by standing in the place of your Chief Officer. Please honor me by explaining the reason for this.”
“I am Sillurv ban Etkuram, Sixth Shield of House Drellith and Third Officer of the Seppsal. Our recent victory in tekl’hananni was costly. All officers superior to me in rank were killed, along with many of our warriors. We believe it would be inappropriate to celebrate such a loss as a victory. Instead, we beg to be allowed aboard your station to honor those who have fallen, in accordance with a Human custom we have heard about.”
Townsend sidled closer to Holchuk and murmured, “Is there a script for this?”
“No, he’s winging it. However, they are dressed for a funeral and looking pretty mournful, in a King Kong, T-Rex kind of way. He’s the one who first broke protocol, so I think you can safely play it by ear as well.”
All right, then. Returning his attention to Sillurv, Drew said, “Are you talking about a memorial service?”
The Nandrian didn’t answer, just tilted his head, first one way and then the other.
“Maybe he’s asking for a wake,” Ruby suggested.
But Sillurv didn’t seem to recognize that word either. “We have heard it is called ‘a toast’,” he said. “One drink in honor of the dead.”
“Careful, boss man,” Holchuk warned quietly. “They’ve come a long way for just one drink apiece.”
Drew was already ahead of him — his internal con detector had red-lined the moment Sillurv had begun speaking. Now the needle was off the scale. However, this wasn’t a situation in which he could simply out the Nandrian and send him and his crew packing. The mark would have to play along.
After looking directly into one of the securecams installed around A Deck, Drew pinned on his most hospitable smile and told Sillurv son of Etkur, “Yes, a toast to your fallen comrades would be a most appropriate way for you to honor them. Let us complete the introductions, so that I may properly invite you and your warriors onto the station.”
—— «» ——
The crew of Daisy Hub had spent the past year preparing to defend it — and themselves — for several hours without conventional weapons in the event of an attack. The reason for this: the Space Installation Authority, in its wisdom, had decided not to arm the station. Instead, they’d put all the ordnance on Platform Zulu, some four hours away. Assuming the Rangers scrambled immediately once a distress call had been received, that was how long it would take for help to arrive. It was much too long for Townsend’s liking.
Therefore, in consultation with Hagman and Karlov, he had devised a security protocol that included regular situation drills, to ensure that everyone would know where to go and what to do if the Hub were boarded. They’d practiced every scenario, including this one. Lydia’s close monitoring of the securecams on A Deck was part of the plan, and Drew’s deliberate eye contact with one of them was a prearranged signal. In the time that it would take for the introductions to be made, Lydia should have issued an all-crew alert via wristcomm and then programmed the tube car system for express travel between A and D Decks only.
If the Nandrians were sincere about sharing a peaceful toast and then leaving, they wouldn’t notice anything amiss. On the other hand, if this was just a ploy to gain access to the Hub, well, that was what Orvy Hagman and his expanded Security team were for.
So it was that when Sillurv and his thirty-six warriors stepped out of the tube cars on D Deck, they were met by an “honor guard” and respectfully escorted directly to the Daisy Hub caf.
Warned ahead of time, Jensen had already prepared glasses of lemonade and placed them on trays around the room. Sillurv picked up his drink, then turned to Drew and said, “Would the Hak’kor and his second and third honor us by participating in our toast?”
Toast the fallen of House Drellith? Now Townsend understood why the Nandrian officer had brought his ships so far out of their way for just one drink. Drellith and Trokerk were sworn and deadly enemies, as the ferocity of their battles had amply demonstrated, and House Daisy Hub was one ritual away from sealing an alliance with Trokerk. Word of this had to have made it back to the Nandrian home world. What better way to derail the alliance and embarrass House Trokerk than by revealing Daisy Hub’s Hak’kor to be dishonorable? And what better way to accomplish that than by tricking him into appearing sympathetic toward House Drellith? Sillurv probably had a recording device concealed in the pin of his sash.
It was a clever plan, with just one flaw: the mark was a con artist himself.
Drew smiled at Sillurv — a genuine smile this time — and responded, “You honor me with your invitation. However, Drellith was not the only House to suffer great losses in this battle. The dead of both sides fought valiantly, would you not agree?”
Sillurv replied guardedly, “I would, Hak’kor.”
“And having fought well, surely they all deserve to be honored with a toast.”
Sillurv’s complexion darkened. “Are you asking us to honor our foe, Hak’kor?” he demanded.
It was what a Human would do, but evidently not a Nandrian. Townsend took a mental step backward and said evenly, “No. That would be inappropriate for a House participating in tekl’hananni. However, Daisy Hub is a neutral House, enemy of none and welcoming to all. After you have toasted the fallen of House Drellith, we would consider it a privilege to honor the sacrifices made by your worthy opponent.”
Silence rolled across the room like a carpet unfurling. Sillurv’s massive body was rigid. Townsend held his breath, hoping he’d read the Nandrian correctly. Then a glint of recognition came into the large yellow eyes.
“We beg that you wait to honor Trokerk until after our ships have departed,” he said. Drew smiled graciously and nodded his Hak’korly assent. On Sillurv’s signal, each of his warriors reached for a glass of lemonade.
“We are not here to celebrate a victory,” he announced. “We are here to remember the strength and courage of forty-one officers and crewmates who fought well and died well at our sides. The names of these warriors will be inscribed on the heroes’ wall of House Drellith on Nandor. They will not be forgotten. We drink to seal that oath. May we be cut into pieces and fed to a wild lorssh if we ever break it.” He raised his glass and proclaimed, “To honor!”
“To honor!” bellowed the others, raising their glasses as well, then rapidly emptying them.
The Nandrians wasted no time returning to their ships. Following an abridged leave-taking ceremony, Sillurv and his acting second disappeared through the docking portal. As Lydia monitored from AdComm, Deck A was separated from the rest of the Hub, and the Seppsal and her sister ship were sent on their way. Meanwhile, the Hak’kor and his third stood behind Lydia’s chair, breathing matching sighs of relief as the blips representing the two light cruisers slid off the side of her screen and DeVries commenced the reconnection process.
“It was a lovely toast, you know,” she remarked over her shoulder. “Quite stirring. Up until he got to the lorssh part, anyway. I found that a little…”
“…Nandrian,” Holchuk supplied. “It was very Nandrian. Nagor would have said the same thing.”
Lydia kept her attention on her bank of light screens. “Speaking of Nagor,” she said, “you’ll be happy to know that the Krronn and the Nannssi were not involved in the latest match against Drellith.”
“Good! Their Chief Officers are probably already planning an unpleasant surprise for House Drellith in the next round.” Holchuk threw Townsend a conspiratorial grin. “I can’t wait to write your speech describing how you turned Sillurv’s own guile against him. That was well played, boss man.”
“I have my moments,” Townsend conceded. “Meanwhile, there’s an overgrown prawn in my quarters, detoxing from three cups of Jensen’s java. Lydia, once A Deck is locked down, I need you to contact the Marco Polo and ask them as persuasively as you can to swing by and pick up their Mitradean friend. If his race is looking for a new home world, Takamura’s ship is better equipped to find one for them than we are. And he certainly owes us that much after giving out our address all over alien space.”
“I’ll let them know,” she replied absently.
“Holchuk, I want you and Karlov to babysit Odysseus until his ride gets here.”
“You want us to sit on him?”
“If you have to. Just keep him safe and out of trouble. And away from caffeine.”
“You got it, boss man.” With that, Holchuk turned and headed toward one of the tube car doors, leaving Drew and Lydia alone on C Deck.
Still sounding distracted, she asked, “So, was the Zulu mission successful?”
“More or less. With luck, we’ll soon have a working control panel for our Nandrian field generator. Once we’re able to make it do what we want, when we want, then I think we’ll be ready to contact the resistance on Earth and offer them our expertise.”
“Uh-huh. Right.”
The cynical edge on her voice snapped him to attention. “Is there something you want to say to me, Lydia?”
She swiveled her seat and gave him a reproachful stare. “Come on, Drew, I’m not one of your marks, so don’t play dumb with me. We’ve had the resistance on board from the moment you arrived.”
He went cold all over, hearing Grant Sullivan’s voice once again in his mind: Do they know who you’re really working for?
Townsend wanted to kick himself. He knew that there were securecams all over the Hub, constantly recording. He’d personally authorized the rewiring necessary to transmit all the feeds in real time to Lydia’s station on AdComm as part of the Hub’s new security protocol. But he had assumed — obviously incorrectly — that when the station manager demanded privacy he would get it, no questions asked and no further instructions necessary. It was a mistake he wouldn’t be repeating any time soon. Still, the damage was done.
Rapidly recalling the rest of his conversation with Sullivan, Drew was relieved to note that neither of them had actually mentioned the EIS aloud. Better yet, the omission had apparently led Lydia to make an incorrect assumption of her own.
He took it as a gift.
“Okay, just for argument’s sake, let’s say you’re right, and I came here with the express intention of recruiting everyone into the resistance. Hypothetically, what would you do with that information?”
Her gaze softened. “Nothing.”
“Nothing at all? Or nothing now?”
He watched her face, expecting a tell, but her expression remained neutral. When a faint smile did appear, it was distant and unrevealing.
“Nothing, period. I’m your eyes and ears, remember? Your secrets are safe with me.”
“Reconnection complete,” came DeVries’s voice from her console. “All seals and latches read green. You have control, AdComm.”
Returning her chair to its normal position, Lydia scanned her panel and pressed a button on her console. “AdComm has control,” she confirmed. Then she pressed a second button, and a message window came up on one of her screens: File Deleted.
“Was that—?”
“Video feed from A Deck. The departure ritual. I only keep what’s interesting. Or potentially useful. You never know when you’re going to need a visual record as proof that something happened. Or as leverage to get something done.”
With a shiver that was equal parts dread and anticipation, Townsend bent and murmured into her ear, “You recorded the Nandrians in the caf earlier. Did you keep that file?”
Still facing frontward, she replied, “When Drellith is aboard, always.”
“Thank you, Ms. Garfield.” Unwilling to risk saying more, he straightened up and strolled to his desk. Lydia’s definition of a defensive arsenal was clearly much broader than the one he’d been working with. For now, she appeared to be on his side. In the future? Who could say?
Damn! He’d really wanted to be able to trust her.
—— «» ——
Manager of Station Operations was a pretty title, but as far as Earth Intelligence was concerned, that was all it was. Sullivan’s brief visit had been an unpleasant reminder to Townsend that he was considered by the higher-ups to be an agent on assignment, heading up a cell but only nominally in command of it. Soon, he would begin receiving orders, and the EIS would expect him to put his people to work carrying them out.
There was just one problem. Well, two problems. First, no one on Earth knew the truth about what had been going on aboard Daisy Hub, and Townsend didn’t dare enlighten them for fear of starting an interstellar war. Consequently, he’d been purposely vague, even misleading, on all his status reports to the Space Installation Authority, as well as in the encrypted messages they contained for Earth Intelligence. And second, no one aboard the Hub knew the truth about why he’d been sent there, and he’d been putting off telling them for fear of sparking a mutiny.
Safeguarding the truth was supposed to be his mission for the EIS, but not being able to share it with anyone was proving to be more stressful than he’d anticipated. Drew could practically feel his blood pressure rise with each new secret that got dumped into his lap.
His gut wasn’t happy with him either. The dinner he’d eaten an hour earlier was sitting in his stomach like a stone. Like an ember, actually, burning his chest from the inside out. Taking a final swallow of the antacid the Doc had just given him, Townsend came to a decision. Confession might not be good for his soul right now, but he suspected it would do wonders for his digestive tract.
He boarded a tube car and rode it up to AdComm.
On C Deck, as expected, he found Ruby McNeil standing watch alone at her main console.
“I am sick to death of keeping secrets,” he announced to her back.
She turned and gave him a sympathetic smile. “I know. So am I.” She went to the comm panel and toggled a switch, then pulled something out of her jacket pocket. Drew recognized the object immediately. It was a black tube, ringed with ridges along half its length — an EIS encryption device, keyed to an agent’s DNA, useless to anyone else.
Townsend’s jaw dropped open. He reminded himself to close it. Then he remembered the securecams. “That’s an interesting-looking gadget,” he remarked, adopting a casually interested tone of voice. “Where did you find it?”
“Don’t worry, Chief, we’re not being recorded,” she assured him, grinning. “I’ve ‘accidentally’ paused the feed from this deck. And I was given this ‘gadget’ by the same people who gave you yours.”
“How do you know that I’ve got one?” he demanded.
“Steve Bonelli told me you were one of us when I picked you and Teri up from the Zoo. Remember how I went to check on the number of barrels in the cargo hold? That was so he and I could have a quick meeting.”
Staring into her face, Drew sank slowly onto the nearest chair. “I don’t believe this,” he declared. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”
In an instant, mischievous grandma evaporated, leaving Ruby looking every day of her seventy-five years old. “Lots of reasons,” she said, pulling up a second chair and lowering herself onto it. “Most of them don’t matter. Bear with me now, because there’s a preamble to the one that does.
“I was the very first operative to be assigned to Daisy Hub. The EIS didn’t formally exist yet. Forrand was just starting to put his organization together, so I didn’t actually have a mission. However, when the Hub went online in 2368, he saw all kinds of useful possibilities for it. He decided to position himself so that he could take advantage of them when the time was right.
“In the meanwhile, he needed someone to come out here and ‘stake his claim’, so to speak. Someone he could trust to manage things at this end once he was ready to move. We were old friends who thought very much alike, so he offered me the job, and I accepted. I’ve been on this station for thirty Earth years now, watching people come and go, and noticing who stayed. They were the keepers.”
“The keepers?” he echoed, frowning.
“The ones you hang onto, because their combined skills and strengths are exactly what you’re going to need once everything else is in place and you’re ready to set your grand plan in motion. Over the years, I’ve assisted six different station managers. Two of them might have been keepers, but they didn’t stay. Naguchi had unfinished business on Earth and left when his contract ran out. Khaloub’s tenure was cut short when he was killed. Then you arrived.”
“And your brain began itching.” She nodded once in confirmation. “From trying to decide whether I’d be a keeper?”
“Actually, I was trying to figure out which came first. Was it Karim’s death? Or was it your EIS assignment to the Hub?”
“It’s a good question,” he told her, wiping all expression from his face. “Wish I had the answer.”
She leaned forward, her gaze acquiring a laser-like intensity. “I’ve been sitting out here watching pieces come together for a very long time. If Karim was taken out to make room for you, it means the plan was finally ready to launch, and you were Forrand’s handpicked mission leader. I don’t need to know the details. Just tell me, am I right about this?”
“You’re not wrong,” he told her after a beat. Then, to distract her from pursuing the subject any further, he pointed at the encrypter still in her hand and asked, “How many of those are aboard the station?”
Ruby slid the device out of sight, pursing her lips thoughtfully. “Hard to say. Three or four, maybe, including yours. It’s a safe bet that anyone put in command of Zulu will have one as well.”
“Lydia?”
“It’s possible, but not likely. Knowing a lot about what’s going on is just part of her job description. I can tell you with certainty, however, that she is completely onside with the idea of a resistance movement, and I think you’ll find all the others are, as well.”
“And what about you?”
“Absolutely. One thing that you’ve demonstrated clearly in the short time that you’ve been here is that you care about the people on this station, just as much as Naguchi and Khaloub did and a lot more than the EIS or any government organization ever will. No one aboard the Hub wants to be a pawn or a patsy, ordered around by some faceless entity on Earth. As I recently found out, you’re not crazy about the idea either. Lydia showed me the vidclip of you and Sullivan saying goodbye on A Deck. The expression on your face as you watched him walk through the portal was eloquent, to say the least.
“So, I figured the time was finally right to let you know that you’re not alone. We’ve already broken away from Earth, and I’m guessing that it won’t be long before we cut ties with the EIS as well. Regardless of what happens from now on, rest assured that you’ll have the crew of Daisy Hub backing you up.”
For a moment, he hesitated, silently correcting her statement. Not all the Hub’s residents trusted him fully yet, and there were a couple he still had doubts about as well. Nonetheless, it was gratifying to hear a message of support right now.
“Thanks, Ruby. That’s good to know.”
“My pleasure. Do we have a plan?”
Good question. It appeared that House Daisy Hub was about to spawn an actual resistance movement, independent of anything on Earth. That made two charges of treason that he would probably have to answer for down the road. And the Hub would soon be filling up with alien refugees. Fleeing from what, Townsend had no idea, but he suspected that he would soon be finding out.
Otherwise, had anything changed? Not really, he decided.
“A plan?” he said with a sigh. “Sure, as much as we ever did. First, we’re going to finalize our alliance with Trokerk. Then, we’re going to protect the secrets that have been entrusted to us and go about our business one day at a time, while keeping our eyes open for the trouble that we know is going to find us. And when it does, we’re going to impress the bejeezus out of all concerned by coming through it in one piece. How’s that for a plan?”
Her cheeks dimpled and, just like that, the mischievous grandma was back.
“Works for me, Chief.”
It worked for him as well, and for the first time since his arrival on Daisy Hub, he was able to understand why.
Dennis Forrand hadn’t just been meddling in his life — he’d been preparing him. Everything that Drew had experienced — the six years in the street gang, the five in detention, and the thirteen that he had spent with New Chicago Security, dealing with the dregs of Humanity — had been, like tekl’hananni, a test of his personal worthiness. Ruby had guessed right: Townsend was Forrand’s handpicked leader, toughened and trained to meet whatever challenges lay ahead.
And that was exactly what he intended to do.