Starrise at Corrivale

Chapter Three

THE REST OF the day's schedule went haywire, which gave Gabriel the hint he needed that things were indeed in the air. For one thing, many marine staff under Hal's supervision were pulled back from other duties to be run over to Callirhoe to assist in maintenance work secondary to the mission she had just completed. The swearing started in earnest when word spread among Falada's marine complement of the action that the other ship had seen not six hours ago. It had not been hand-to-hand work-just shipboard stuff, the Star Force ship going in low to preempt the little Phorcys-based raiders who had attacked Ordinen, Eraklion's biggest open-cast mine-but the marines assigned to Callirhoe managed to make it sound like the Second Galactic War when they came aboard that night for the usual "two-ships" social. All this meant that Gabriel's spatball team's meeting had to be postponed, and the idea of doing any further reading of transcripts that night went right out the airlock. Suit drill, though conducted as professionally as always-after all, there was no treating casually the only thing that stood between you and space-had more than the usual buzz about it. Crew morale was always a major concern for Star Force. They knew what made their ships effective-not machines, but people. So any time two Concord Star Force vessels met for the first time in a system, especially when they were carrying complements of marines, there would be a social get-together as soon as circumstances permitted it. The two captains, having conferred at some length, were fairly certain that there would be no further antics from the local system-based ships-especially with one Star Force vessel in orbit around each of the two "offending" planets keeping an eye on them and (via a few clandestinely sown surveillance satellites) on Eraklion as well.

By 2000, the temporary walls separating the main briefing room from its twin next door had been opened out so that one big space was available. By 2030, alternating panels of white-silver and midnight- velvet curtains had been hung up to soften the feel of the place, the lights had been lowered, and the room was full of tables and chairs and food. Lots of food. If there was anything anyone knew about marines, it was that they ate their weight in protein every day, just to prove they could. The other thing that everyone knew about marines-that they could talk the tusks off a weren-was also being proven all over the room.

"You shoulda seen it," someone was saying to Hal as Gabriel came up beside him. "It was just like a dirg's nest when you knock it down off the rocks. They came in real low over Eraklion's spaceward side. The Phorcyns thought they were under the radar, and maybe they were, of the ground-based stuff... but not ours. There were maybe two hundred of them-little ships, not even military, some of them-just hoppers, just private craft with guns. Are these people crazy? What kind of line are their bosses selling them that they'll go up against a cruiser with nothing but the family in-system flitter with a couple of grenade cannons strapped to it?"

"Phorcyn fanatics," someone said. Laughter rippled through the group as they caught the play on words. The guy who was talking, a tall thin red-haired man, shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "I'll tell you this: fanatic or not, they knew how to fly, that bunch. We were watching them on the repeaters in the landing craft, and they were right down and dirty with the mountain chain around that place. Thought they were going to do themselves permanent damage, some of them. But they seemed to know those mountains pretty well."

"A little too well," said another of the marines nearby, a slender little dark-haired woman with big dark brown eyes. "If they'd gotten down there to take the attack to a second stage, we would have had to root them out, and that would have been entertaining."

The man who had been talking first shrugged. "It didn't happen," he said, "and our weapons were clean, anyway, if it had. I would've given a lot to see their faces, though, when they came in close on the mine and saw the ship rising up out of that big ol' hole in the ground with all her guns hot. Never tell me that Captain Devereaux can't make her boat sit up and beg! And as for all those little ships-" He broke out laughing. "Just like a dirg's nest. They went scattering in every direction that God sent and took themselves away before something a lot worse than they were expecting happened to them." "Meaning us," said the dark-haired woman, grinning.

"Yeah, well, every now and then you have to sit one out," said the marine who had been speaking. "We'll get the next dance, somewhere else. Hey, look-"

Noisy whistles and shrieks went up as two shapely forms walked in, in full Star Force dress black, everything from the full-length skirts to the wound sashes to the optional rakish hats. Captain Dareyev and Captain Devereaux, the latter looking somewhat abashed by the deafening welcome. She looked over at Elinke. Elinke shrugged and led her over to the first refreshment table to get her a glass of wine, but they never had a chance, being well mobbed by every nearby marine before more than a few steps had been taken. The marines always appreciated their captains even when they weren't women. A sharp set of reflexes in the center seat could save your life and those of all your teammates. But female captains had a special mystique-not entirely, Gabriel thought, having anything to do with their superior reflexes.

Even more marines arrived to congratulate the captains, and the two women smiled and let them get on with it, glancing at each other resignedly. Gabriel smiled a little too and turned back to the marine who had been talking, the one from Callirhoe. He was still talking to the brown-eyed marine, but he was slowing down somewhat. Not exactly running out of steam, perhaps, but he and a lot of his buddies, to Gabriel's eye, had that about-to-fall-over look that he had seen more than enough times in his career so far. Men who had been sitting in their shuttles, suited up, ready to be delivered to some godforsaken spot that they had never seen before, ready to take it and hold it as if it were their own, as if they would shed their last drop of blood for it-and indeed they would. Waiting for that to happen for hours on end, sometimes days. The men and women who went through that on a regular basis showed changes in their faces that Gabriel had learned to recognize without being able to describe. Tonight it looked most like weariness to him. And fear, too. But that was not something you would say out loud to a marine, not until you knew him or her very well indeed. For the meantime, these were brothers and sisters, but not yet brothers in blood, except in the abstract. Sooner or later, it might happen . . . probably would. But you didn't force the pace.

The tiredness in those eyes faded for a moment. "Hey, brother," the marine said, "nice place you have here."

"We like it," Gabriel said. "You're welcome! Gabriel Connor." "Mil Wyens."

"Where are you from when you're not from a ship?" "Orion League. Damrak."

"Hey, we're neighbors!" Gabriel grinned a little. Neighborhood was something Orions took seriously, even if it was spread over many light-years. "I was born on Jaeger, and then we moved to Bluefall. My folks moved there on a colonization contract." "Long way back there," Mil said. "You must not see 'em often."

"Not my dad, anyway. Not since I enlisted. Dad's still on Bluefall; he's retired. Mom died a few years ago," Gabriel added, knowing from too much experience that if he didn't add it, someone would most likely ask. Better to get it over with. Mil's green eyes looked troubled. "Hey, I'm sorry."

The usual response, it's all right, it was a release, finally, came up. But for some reason Gabriel rejected it and just nodded. He said, "You guys did a great job out there today." "We didn't do much of anything," Mil said, sounding rather disappointed. "You did, though," Gabriel said. "Waiting. Waiting's hard."

He thought of the long hours down in the ice on Epsedra. The explosions overhead. And down in the crevasses, the slow drip and trickle of melting ice and the bright brittle sound when a bomb came down too close, shattering the ice into spears and shrapnel. In some ways, that seemed like another lifetime, ages ago. Some ways it seemed like a matter of minutes. And it could sneak up on you at other times when you were waiting, sometimes for something much more mundane and make itself a nuisance. Mil looked at him without much expression for a moment or so and then made half a smile and said, "Had enough of it for today."

"Let me get you something," Gabriel said. "How much 'something' do you want in it?" "Normal dosage," Mil said after a moment. "No point in replacing palpitations with a headache." Gabriel went off to fetch a couple of Pink Deaths. When he came back and handed one of them to Mil, the brown-eyed marine who had also drifted away in search of something liquid, now came back and leaned over Mil's shoulder. This was something of an accomplishment. She had to stand on tiptoe to do it, and she nearly spilled her drink down Mil's back in the process. "Mil, what about you-know-who's comm code?" "Huh?"

"You remember. You were going to give me his comm code. You said you wrote it down." "I did. Now where did I leave it?" Mil started going through his pockets.

"In the go-down boat," said the brown-eyed marine to Gabriel, and the various others who were gathered around, "he was sitting next to someone whom I would-someone in whom I am extremely interested. Tell me you didn't lose it," she said, poking Mil meaningfully in the ribs, "or you are going to have a bad weapons drill in a few days. Very bad."

"No, I know I have it, it's-" Mil kept going through his pockets, coming up with the usual clutter: cardkey for his quarters, cardkey for the secure locker in his wardrobe, and a little dark something. But the darkness didn't last. It flashed dully as Gabriel looked at it. He glanced away, wondering if the room lighting had something to do with it, but it didn't. "What is that?" he asked.

Mil was concentrating on going through his other pocket now, and looked up, slightly confused at being distracted from this. "Oh, this? It's a luck stone. I got it on..." He frowned, bemused, until his eyebrows threatened to bang into each other. "Dilemma, I think it was."

"You couldn't have gotten it on Dilemma," the brown-eyed marine said. "We didn't get leave there.

Where is that comm code?"

"Not the last time. The time before last."

"You didn't have this thing then," the brown-eyed marine said. "I didn't see it until we'd been to Tractate. Stop stalling."

"There wasn't anything on Tractate. I got it on . . ." He stopped going through the other pocket, looking annoyed. "Never mind."

Curious, Gabriel watched the little smooth thing in Mil's hand. It was vaguely oval and more flat than spherical. It had an odd metallic sheen to it, almost like brushed metal. But the color was black, except when it glowed from inside, a little diffuse light like a coal being blown to life and fading, blown bright and fading again. "How does it do that?" Gabriel said.

"I don't know," said the man, turning the little object over in his hand. "Batteries? No, I don't know at all; some guy in the daily market in the city we were in-I know," he said triumphantly to the brown- haired marine. "It was Dorring."

"It wasn't Dorring. You weren't on Dorring. Where did you put it?"

"She's right," said another she-marine who had come up behind Mil, a tall blonde woman. "You were in medical stir for nearly a week that starfall. Remember the-"

"Ow," said Mil, "yeah, did you have to remind me?" He pocketed the "luck piece" and turned around.

"What are you doing here anyway? I thought you had duty this shift."

"I did," she said, "but some schedules have been changed. Better check yours."

"Not before he gives me that comm code!"

That small knot of marines saluted Gabriel with their glasses and wandered off toward the food, leaving Gabriel looking after them while one of his floor mates, Mick Roscinzsky, came up beside him, carrying a couple of drinks. "Here," he said as he handed one to Gabriel. "What is it?"

"How should I know? All I know is you were standing there with your two arms the same length." Gabriel took an experimental sip of one of the drinks and made a face. "Did it occur to anyone to put anything in this but alcohol?"

Mick looked shocked. "Oh, this is one of the guest drinks. Sorry." He took it away from Gabriel and gave him his own.

Gabriel sipped it, looking suspiciously at Mick. This drink was mostly fizzy water. "Better," he said, realizing that he had nearly been on the receiving end of a hoary old trick intended for Falada 's guests but not her own marine complement. "Are they buying it?" " 'Fraid so. I feel sorry for their tiny heads tomorrow."

Gabriel grinned and wandered along behind Mick toward the bar. One of his other floor mates, Charles Redpath, was tending bar. He saw Dawn Steilin, a second lieutenant of his acquaintance, come moseying along and say to Charles, "I'll have a Squadron Special."

Charles reached down, chose a glass, filled it from one of the clear flasks nearby. Dawn took the glass from him, raised it, said, "Up the Concord, boys!" and knocked it back in three long gulps. A few of the marines from Callirhoe looked at her in appreciation or astonishment. One of them leaned close to whiff at the glass, or possibly her breath-or possibly just because Dawn was pleasant to lean close to-then said in some surprise, "Austrin gin?"

Dawn nodded, gave the guy a bright and completely un-addled look, and wandered away again. "I'll have one of those," said the marine who'd spoken to Dawn, and Charles, with a slight smile, handed him a glass the size of the one Dawn had downed.

Gabriel kept his own smile out of sight. The glass from which Dawn had been drinking, he knew, had been behind the bar, rim-down in a saucer of that Austrin gin. The flask from which it had been filled, though, the flask identical to the one from which Charles was now pouring, was full of plain old water. The present flask, though, was full of straight Austrin. Their guests would go away from this party with the belief that their hosts were supermen, at least insofar as their ability to hold their drink was involved. Gabriel turned away, half afraid he would lose control of that smile, and found Jake Ricel standing behind him, apparently watching the show at the bar. The dark-haired man was near Gabriel's height but less broad in the shoulders and leaner. His fair-skinned face was altogether unremarkable, one of those people who blended easily into any crowd without being noticed. Jake caught Gabriel's eye and glanced off to one side.

Now what the hell, Gabriel thought. Of all the times to- For this was his shipboard Intelligence contact, the man whom he had seen only once or twice, and that accidentally, in the last whole year. Jake was Star Force and worked up in Drive Engineering. From a marine's point of view, this would normally make him suspect regardless of any possible Intelligence connections, since people who could actually understand the gravity induction engine were assumed to be, as the saying went, "a hundred and twenty- one hours from a nervous breakdown." But he seemed otherwise overtly normal according to people Gabriel knew who had worked with him. Gabriel said, "Oh, hi, Jake," as casually as he could. "Drink?"

"What you're having," said Jake, glancing idly over to where the two captains were unsuccessfully attempting to fend off another wave of marines.

Gabriel turned back to the bar and said, "Charles? Two Squadron Specials."

Charles looked over at them, eyed Jake, recognized him as in-ship but not marine, and handed Gabriel two drinks that looked the same but differed significantly in composition. "Thanks," Gabriel said.

"We take care of our own," Charles said and turned around to take another order.

Gabriel and Jake walked away slowly from the bar, sipping their drinks. Jake's was very full. "How do you people drink this stuff like you do?" he said.

"Genetic engineering," said Gabriel. "Haven't seen you for a while."

"No need," said Jake, "until now. Something needs to be looked into."

"Oh?"

Jake nodded, making a face as he took another drink. " 'Upabove' is a little curious about some things that might or might not have been seen in this system."

"Well, that's real definite," Gabriel said. "If you mean people from Phorcys and Ino shooting at each other, there's plenty of that to be curious about."

"No," Jake said, "not that, specifically." His voice got lower, and he turned to look toward the doorway. " 'Upabove' is wondering whether any of the diplomatic staffs from Phorcys or Ino have mentioned anything about . . . trouble in the system. Trouble that's not of their own making." "There's more than enough of the kind they make themselves to keep them busy," Gabriel said. "What kind of things are 'Upabove' curious about?" He was mystified.

Jake shrugged, looking around him again, so that Gabriel wondered exactly what or who he was looking for. Anyone close enough to stand a chance of eavesdropping seemed intent on their own conversations. "Aliens, especially aliens that aren't usually seen in these parts."

Gabriel shook his head. "For creep's sake, this is the Verge," he said. "You might run into any one of thirty alien races out here and never think anything of it."

"It might not be one of the recognized ones," said Jake, even more softly. Gabriel could hardly hear him now. "Making trouble somewhere in the system . . . trying to keep it quiet. Star Force might not know about it, but possibly the diplomatic types coming and going might drop a line or two on the subject." "Not usually where we can hear," Gabriel said. "They think we're spies half the time as it is." "But some of you they get used to looking at," Jake said. "You've been seen helping out in high places a lot lately." He gave Gabriel a slightly quizzical look.

Gabriel shrugged. "The ambassador's preference," he said. "I don't understand it myself." But Jake was looking at him, waiting for an answer. Then he looked at the doorway again, as if unusually eager to get out of there.

"All right, sure," Gabriel said. "I'll see what I can find out. But I don't know if I'm going to be able to help you all that much. I've been shipboard, mostly, and I think I'm supposed to be that way for the next couple of days anyway."

"Well," Jake said, "don't worry about that. Just keep your eyes and ears open and see what you can find out."

"Sure." But privately Gabriel felt sure he would find out almost nothing. "I'll leave a message on your computer if I need to talk to you."

"No!" Jake said, with surprising vehemence. "Just find me. Make an excuse to get up my way or have someone bring me a message by hand." Gabriel shrugged again, agreeing. Even now, there were times when an officer might prefer to have a message hand carried rather than put in the system. "If you do hear anything, I'll have a message for you to take back to the source. Not a word to anyone of who gave it to you-you'll have to find a way to slip it to the target without revealing the source." Gabriel nodded. Jake pushed his unfinished drink back into Gabriel's free hand, turned, and disappeared through the nearest passageway. Just like that, he was gone.

Gabriel shook his head, bemused, and turned his attention back to the stir in the room, the laughter of relief and release, the sight of people drifting around, eating and drinking and unwinding. The captains had finally been able to break away from their myriad admirers and sit down off to one side by themselves. Their heads were bent close together and their drinks were forgotten as they conferred. Gabriel caught Elinke's eye just briefly as she looked up and around, and he saluted her with his empty glass. She looked at him, grinned slightly, lifted both hands as if holding something in them, and put her eyebrows up. Gabriel realized he was still holding two glasses and went off hurriedly to put one of them down.

As he was making his way to one of the buffet tables, Hal came lounging along toward Gabriel. Hal eyed the second glass disapprovingly. "Bad day?" "Not mine," Gabriel said, just slightly nettled.

"Oh. Good, because schedules have been shuffled," said Hal. "Have you seen?" "I haven't looked since this afternoon, no."

"Better go check. I had a word with the computer and got a few little surprises. You will too. Among other things, you're on shuttle duty tomorrow."

"What? That's impossible! The am-" Gabriel stopped himself. "I was told I was going to be shipboard. The negotiations."

"Look again," Hal said, not entirely without sympathy. "Oh-dark-forty, you poor thing. And here you thought you were going to have six whole hours to sleep this off."

Reading, reading something for pleasure for a change, instead of the never-ending bad fairy tale of the negotiation transcripts, had been more on Gabriel's mind, at least enough of it to lull him gently to sleep.

Now there was going to be little enough chance of that. "Well, frack " he said. "What fun."

"Better turn in early," Hal said. "I know I am. Shame to miss the rest of the party."

Gabriel looked around at a room full of relatively happy marines and Star Force people. It had been a good day for most of them in that none of them had died. "Yeah," he said. "But there'll be others.

Meanwhile ... "

"Yup, me too. See you in the morning," Hal said, "or what comes all too soon before it." He finished his own drink, put it down, and headed out the door.

Gabriel got rid of the glasses, paused to snaffle a couple of small meatrolls and devour them, and then slowly went the same way Hal had.

Schedule changes. He was willing enough to believe that the ambassador might have been behind them. Keep your eyes and ears open, she had said.

But so had Jake, just now, in almost the same words. And he hadn't seemed concerned that Gabriel thought he was going to be stuck shipside.

Did Jake know that my schedule was going to be changed this way? Gabriel thought. And if he did know that, how did he know that?

But after a moment Gabriel put the thought out of his mind. There was probably no point in him wasting consideration on it. He had long since gotten a feeling that as regarded Intelligence, the less you seemed to stop and think about the things you found out, the better the upper ups liked it. And it was likely enough that the ambassador was involved somehow in that as well. The Diplomatic service and the Intelligence people were well known to work closely together. The briefing earlier in the day suggested that just that kind of thing might have been going on.

Gabriel took himself off to his quarters, dropped a sober pill, and immediately turned in. He was a little uneasy, but still excited about what the next day might bring. It wasn't that many more hours, anyway, until he would find out.