Confluence

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: EAN LAMBERT

After the discovery of the Confluence fleet, the Alliance—as it had been then—had taken control of Confluence Station, and the New Alliance had used it for a temporary headquarters until they’d moved to Haladea III. Most people believed it had been handed back to its former owners afterward, and that its owners had continued to lease it out. After all, it wasn’t needed at the confluence anymore. There was nothing there now.

They were wrong. The station was an official spoil of war, and though Patten and his staff retained corporate dress, they were employed by the combined governments of the New Alliance. The governance fleet, Kari Wang had called it. It was an appropriate name.

Access to the station was restricted.

The Factor requested permission for Captain Jakob to meet with Linesman Rossi. Orsaya couldn’t see it, but Jakob was with the Factor, sitting out of sight of the screen.

Ean heard the request, for he was listening carefully to all comms to and from the Lancastrian Princess. And Orsaya’s frosty reply.

“Our linesmen are busy, Factor. It might have escaped your notice, but we have a lot of ships to repair and limited access to cartel linesmen. I cannot approve of anything that takes them away from their work. Especially not Linesman Rossi, who is one of only two tens we have available.”

“Admiral Orsaya, why not let Jakob tag along when Linesman Rossi is repairing lines, then. That way, he could work while they talked.” The Factor’s smile was meant to charm, Ean could tell.

“I have just explained, Factor. He is busy. I don’t need him distracted by foolish questions.”

“I am sure they wouldn’t be foolish questions, Admiral.”

“To a linesman, talking to a nonlinesman, every question about lines is foolish. Or haven’t you noticed.”

“We would not annoy him.”

Orsaya snorted. “Everything annoys him.”

“Surely one visit.”

“Factor. There is a war on, and every single member of the New Alliance wants access to my linesman. I am pleased he is popular, but tell me why I should put you ahead of them?”

She clicked off.

She didn’t see the expression the Factor made afterward. Ean did.

“I doubt you’ll charm that one,” Jakob said.

“If she didn’t have a linesman, I wouldn’t care.”

Ean should let Orsaya know about this conversation. Or maybe Vega would, for she was listening as well.

“She won’t be a problem,” the Factor said. “We can get at Rossi anytime, no matter what she says. I am sure you can get to Confluence Station. We only need to find out when he’s there.”

Jakob nodded. “What about line training? He assists there, doesn’t he? Why don’t we go along to that? It should be easier.”

Not if Ean had anything to do with it.

It wasn’t the only conversation Vega was listening to. She was listening in on Michelle, entertaining Sattur Dow in one of the VIP lounges. Vega looked to be giving that conversation more attention.

“I had thought to see my betrothed here.”

“My cousin Dominique?”

“Yes.”

“Sattur.” It was strange to hear him called by his first name. Ean had never heard him referred to as anything but his surname or his full name. Even the media used his full name. “Dominique is a soldier. You need to talk to her commanding officer, Commodore Vega.”

“Commodore Vega is being particularly obstructive. I was hoping you might do a friend of your father’s a favor and perhaps intercede for me.”

Ean was sure the “friend of your father” was a pointed reminder that Sattur Dow was, in fact, a close friend, and that Michelle would do well to remember that.

“I could do that. Although I must warn you, I have little to do with the soldiers who run this ship.” Which was an out-and-out lie, but Ean would bet she’d pass any lie-detector test they cared to use on her.

Michelle nodded to Lin, who tapped something into his comms and brought it over to her.

In her office, Vega switched both channels off and sat up straighter—if she could sit straighter than she normally did—before answering Lin’s call. “Vega.”

“Her Royal Highness, the Crown Princess Michelle,” Lin said, and handed the comms to Michelle.

If they had to go through that process every time Michelle answered her comms, she’d never get much work done. Lin wouldn’t either.

“Your Royal Highness.” Vega’s voice became respectful. She inclined her head in a half bow. “What can I do for you?”

They hadn’t talked to each other like that since the first day Vega had come on board.

“My guest, Sattur Dow, would like to meet his betrothed, my cousin Dominique. I believe she is part of your staff. He is upset you have denied access to her.”

Vega didn’t pretend not to know who she meant. “Your Highness. I have already explained to Merchant Dow that Spacer Radko is away on a covert operation.”

Her tone wasn’t exasperated, which it should have been. Or would have been if she’d been talking to anyone else. Who was the act for? Sattur Dow? Emperor Yu? Or both?

“Surely you can send her a message to contact us. Or bring her back and put someone else in her place.”

Surely, Sattur Dow wasn’t fooled by this farce.

But they kept on going.

“Unfortunately, no,” Vega said. “On a covert operation, you do not contact the operatives. It endangers the mission.”

“My Lady Dominque is in a unique position. Surely, once you knew she was betrothed—by the decree of the Emperor himself, no less—you would have reconsidered.”

“Had I known about it, yes.” Some of Vega’s natural bite was back. “But this mission was planned two weeks beforehand. Spacer Radko always meant to leave after seeing her family. Maybe if she had mentioned her changed circumstances, I might have reconsidered. Unfortunately for you, she omitted to do that.” She quivered with apparent righteous indignation that didn’t come through the lines. Line one reflected wariness more than anything else.

“My Lady Dominique is a low-ranking spacer,” Sattur Dow said, and Ean had to hold his own lines in at the insult. “Surely it is unusual to send a spacer on a covert mission?”

“Not that unusual. On operations like these, you take the one with the strongest abilities in the area. Not to mention I also wanted to see how she would perform as the leader of a team.”

“Abilities.” Sattur Dow’s eyes gleamed. “So it was to do with line ships?”

“Why ever would you assume that? Especially on a covert op. No, sir.” Vega’s tone was flat. “Radko has more specialized skills than that. She speaks perfect, unaccented Redmond.”

“Redmond.” Sattur Dow started.

His reaction triggered a response in Vega—and maybe in Michelle, too—for line one jangled. Strong enough and loud enough for Helmo, eating a late meal in the mess, to pull up a screen of the bridge and watch what was happening there while he ate. He was looking in the wrong place. He should have been looking in Vega’s office.

“Apparently her parents planned for her to be a diplomat. Instead, she joined the fleet.”

The first thing Vega did after she clicked off was call Ean. “Lambert, were you listening?”

“Why would you think that?”

“Names were mentioned. I’ll assume that’s a yes. I want to know everyone that man calls, and I don’t want him to know we’re checking him.”

How did you explain that to the lines? “I’m not sure I—”

Vega might have been reading his mind. “You won’t be the only one looking. I want the stuff others are unlikely to catch.”

“I’ll do what I can.” Ean clicked off. So he was a spy now. And Vega was getting very used to the tools at her disposal. Which weren’t even her tools, they were Michelle’s.

Still, Vega had given him something.

Michelle and her people lied by telling the truth, most of the time, and Vega had told Sattur Dow that Radko was somewhere her language skills were required. Therefore, she was on one of the six Redmond worlds.

How could he use that to find out more?

Today, Jordan Rossi accompanied Ean to training. Fergus was there, too, along with Hernandez.

“This ship smells like it’s been through a sewer,” Rossi said.

Captain Gruen bristled. “Are you insulting my ship, Linesman?”

“The people on it are polluting your lines.”

“Exactly. I have tried telling Linesman Lambert that. He doesn’t listen.”

“You’re not a line, sweetheart. He doesn’t hear you.”

“She is a captain,” Ean said. He heard her all right, and Rossi knew that, so it was just another pointless point-scoring exercise.

“They’ll come around,” Fergus said.

Maybe. The antagonism crackling through the lines wasn’t helping, for the lines considered Ean as one of their own. His biggest worry right now was that the trainees would make enemies of the fleet lines before they did come around.

Even now, the lines were promising, “We’ll protect you.”

“Thank you.” For you couldn’t turn their protection away.

At least Rossi’s brooding presence kept most of the trainees awed and cowed today.

Everyone except Arnold Peters.

“Why is Lambert training us, when Linesman Rossi is here?” Peters demanded.

Rossi, who was close to the Xanto quartet at the time, listening to Nadia Kentish, narrowed his eyes. “Are you talking to me, or about me?”

“I’m just saying—”

“You think, I, Jordan Rossi, should waste my time on a level-six linesman like you.”

A chorus of something defensive washed through the lines. No linesman liked the implication he or she was inferior.

“If you think you’re so good,” Nadia Kentish said, “why are you here?”

Rossi turned his narrowed gaze on her. “I am here because some bastard sold my line contract, and my new contract owner demands I come.”

Ean seized the silence that followed. “You are all here because you’ve been ordered to come. It’s part of your job.” He watched them think about that, heard the song of the lines change. “If you’d rather be elsewhere, let me know, and I will arrange to have you returned to your fleet.”

“That is a joke,” Peters said.

“What, that I can’t have you returned to your fleet?”

“You know, and we know, that you can’t back out of a top secret project like this unless you’re kicked out.”

“So put up with it, then, or you will be kicked out.” Maybe even for their own safety, for the lines were starting to pick up on Ean’s exasperation. “Now. We have training.”

It wasn’t the best training session. The only thing of interest that came out of it was that Jordan Rossi spent a lot of time listening to Nadia Kentish.

“She’s not Jordan’s type,” Fergus said, later. “He likes his women curvy.”

Nadia Kentish had no curves at all.

Ean laughed and felt in control for the first time since the start of the session. “Fergus, there’s only one thing a linesman really cares about.” Especially at line training. “It’s not her body he’s interested in. I will bet you she’s a high-level line.”

Sale had been out on the Confluence all day. “How was training?” she asked at dinner.

“Okay.”

“Only okay?” Sale made a face at what was on her plate. “Who is cooking, these days?”

“Ru Li and Hana,” Bhaksir said. “I think they do it badly deliberately, hoping we’ll get someone in.”

“We can suffer bad food for a while,” Sale said. “It’s just until we get rid of the tourists. Only okay, Ean?”

Maybe she’d already heard how bad it had been.

“They’re still antagonistic. A couple of them, especially.”

“Your old cartel mate being one of them?”

Peters wouldn’t like being called a cartel mate. Why single him out, particularly?

“If he gets to be a real problem, let me know. You can get him kicked off the project.”

What he’d really like is for Peters to accept the new way of communicating with the lines and to come on board. Ean would just have to work out some strategies for doing it.

And as for strategies. “If you wanted to find out who on your ship called anyone in Redmond, Sale, how would you do it?”

“Redmond.” Sale pushed her bowl away and stretched her legs out. Radko used to do that, too. Ean missed her suddenly, so much it hurt. “Am I doing it, or you?” Sale asked.

“Both of us.”

“Me, I’d go to Vega. She’ll be looking for anything like that. She’s got access to all the messages that go out and come in, and she’ll be checking their origin and what they say.”

“And me?” It would be interesting to have Sale’s view, given she’d worked so closely with lines over the last six months.

“I’d ask the lines, of course.”

“How do you recognize something from Redmond? I mean, how do you know it’s not from Lancia, say? Or Aratoga?”

“Identifying Redmond. Are they talking or not?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, there’s the language. Redmond uptrill at the end of their sentences.” She tried to put an uptrill at the end of her own, failed miserably. “You get the gist.”

He nodded.

“Otherwise, you can’t pick them. Not like Lancastrians, who are racially distinct.” Then Sale looked Ean over. “Mostly, anyway.”

Ean nodded again, not really hearing her. Suppose he asked the ship to listen for words. Or sounds. Would it work?

Back in his room, he settled down with a primer on the language of Redmond and memorized a hundred basic words. He turned it into a song, to make it easier to remember. When he had it down well enough, he turned to the lines. All ships, on both eleven fleets.

“Tell me when you hear sounds like these.” He concentrated on getting them right, for with the lines, the sound had to be exact. “Greetings, yes, no, today…”

Ean was in the fresher, seriously considering whether he could convince one of the ships to jump to Redmond and back to see if he could identify it as a place, when the Lancastrian Princess said in his mind, “Words,” and suddenly he was looking at a place on ship he’d never been but recognized as part of the VIP area that was set aside for visitors. Of whom Vega had said, fervently, she hoped there were no more.

Jakob’s room, and Jakob was there, speaking into a comms.

Ean stopped the fresher midcycle.

Every sentence had an uptrill at the end of it.

Afterward, he watched Jakob slip the comms into a side pocket of his bag, pick up the bag, and walk down to the shuttle bay. Vega waited there, two guards beside her, along with the woman they had identified as a single-level linesman.

Jakob indicated to the linesman that she enter the shuttle.

“I’m sorry to hear about your mother,” Vega told Jakob. “I hope she improves soon.”

“Thank you, Commodore.” Jakob disappeared into the shuttle as well.

Neither of them mentioned the linesman. Moments later, the shuttle was gone. Vega watched it go.

Ean called Vega. “Where did Jakob go?”

“He’s going home. His mother is ill.”

That was as likely as Sattur Dow’s being a suitable partner for Radko.

“And the linesman?”

“He offered to take her. Said he hadn’t known she had failed line certification.”

“And you believed that?”

“I believe they didn’t expect us to pick up on it so easily. She’s a virtual prisoner here. What else could he do but send her home?”

Where she would tell everyone what she’d seen. Single-level linesmen wouldn’t be a secret much longer. If they were now, for why had the Worlds of the Lesser Gods brought a single-level linesman if they didn’t think there was good reason to?

“Are you listening to Jakob’s cabin?”

“Naturally.”

“You should listen to the last fifteen minutes then.”

“I’ll do that.”

Ean was in the fresher again when Vega called back. He sighed and stopped the fresher. At least this time, it was nearly at the end of the cycle.

“You might tell me what happened in Jakob’s cabin,” Vega said. “For I can’t see a problem.”

She couldn’t? Maybe he was wrong about the language. He didn’t know it really. But he had recognized the sound of some words.

“Not even what he said?”

“He didn’t say anything.”

“But what about—?” Vega must have heard him talking into his comms. “I want to see the security tape.”

He thought for a moment she was going to refuse. Instead, she said, “This had better be a secure line.”

He sang it as secure as he could, then watched, disbelievingly, as Jakob settled onto his bunk with a tired sigh, closed his eyes, then lay there for fifteen minutes before getting up—with another tired sigh—and leaving the room.

“That wasn’t what I saw.”

“So I gathered. Security on this ship is badly compromised.” He could feel the rage coming through on line one. It wasn’t directed at him. Vega liked to be in control.

The ship—and thus Helmo, too—didn’t like it either. And the emotion was building.

“How do I tell the ship what to watch for?”

“First we work out how he did it. Then we can work out how to prevent it. Now, I’d like to hear what Jakob said.”

Maybe Jakob’s people were listening in. But, “No,” from line eight, “Secure.” Ean tried to stop worrying and concentrated on remembering what he could. “He was talking into a comms. Words like… ” He gave what he could remember, which wasn’t much. “Then he put his comms in his bag and went down to the shuttle bay. Can you check if his mother really is sick and that he is going home to see her?”

“No. The Worlds of the Lesser Gods don’t like strangers, and to date, they’ve never been considered a threat.”

“So you don’t think it’s important?”

“I’m saying Lancia doesn’t have anyone on the ground there, and even with this alleged marriage coming up, they’re still blocking us sending anyone in. Subtly, of course, but we know we’re being put off.”

So they couldn’t check. Ean clicked off and spent the rest of the night wondering how he could protect the ships from people like Jakob.