Confluence

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: EAN LAMBERT

Michelle called in multiple favors to get the Factor an audience after the day’s council meeting. Ean listened to the talk through Orsaya’s comms on his way to his own meeting.

“At this rate, she won’t have any favors left to call in.” Orsaya’s voice was as sour as Vega’s as she and Ean walked down to the council room with the Yaolin captain, Auburn. “She’s definitely using up the goodwill of Aratoga and Balian on this.”

Captain Auburn nodded.

Ean wished Yu would hurry up and go home.

Line training had been canceled that day, pending the investigation by the admirals. That wouldn’t happen until after the council meeting. One thing less to worry about, at least. For the moment, anyway.

Abram had organized a precouncil meeting for him. A private session where no visitors were allowed, and the recorded discussion was not made available to the general public. Line business was for council ears only.

Ean stepped up to the podium and wiped his suddenly damp hands down the side of his uniform. He had spoken to each council member multiple times, individually and in groups, but today, he was nervous.

“Members of the council, thank you for agreeing to hear me.” He looked around at the 140 council members. Michelle and Abram both smiled encouragingly. Ean took a deep breath. “Yesterday, Redmond tried to steal a fleet line ship.”

He had their attention. He heard the sound of a glass being placed down after one of the councilors took a drink of water. If he’d been on a ship, he would have heard the gulp that went with it and tasted the water.

He wanted to be on ship. He wanted to know what they were thinking.

He had no idea.

“They very nearly succeeded.”

That caused a reaction: a murmur of noise that swelled, then died away.

“They didn’t steal the ships.” One could always rely on Admiral Carrell, of Eridanus, to speak first.

“No, they didn’t,” Ean agreed. “But it was close.” He spoke before Carrell could speak again. “Do you want to know why it was so close, Admiral Carrell?”

“Well, of course I do. We all do.”

This time the murmur was an assent.

“Because Redmond brought linesmen,” Ean said. He raised his arm and pointed. He didn’t have to calculate a direction. He knew where the ships were. “Those ships out there are so desperate for linesmen, they’ll take anything they can get. Even enemy linesmen.”

“We have supplied you with linesmen,” Carrell said. “Once they are trained, they will be put on those ships.”

“I understand that. But the ships are sentient. They don’t understand the concept of time. They don’t understand why they have to wait. They want their linesmen now. And if we don’t start allocating them to various ships, the Confluence and its fleet will start to choose its own crew. From anywhere. Even the enemy. Give me a list of which world gets which ship, and I’ll introduce them to their linesmen.”

“They’re line ships,” Carrell said. “We choose their crew. When we’re ready.”

If Ean could convince Carrell, he could convince the rest of the council. “Alien ships are different from any ships we have known before, Admiral. We might have chosen crew for the human line ships, but the alien ships have minds of their own.”

The aliens would have been smart enough to have crew ready as soon as a ship was available.

“So you’re telling us we have no control over who goes on which ship? Is this a plot by Lancia to grab the Confluence itself?”

He was not going to tell anyone about Sale. Not right now. “I am telling you to sort out which ship each world will get. Sort it out now, and I will endeavor to introduce the ships to their linesmen. Otherwise, I cannot guarantee you will get the ship you negotiate for.”

“This is a plot. A plan by Lancia to—”

The noise from the chamber swelled.

“Admiral Carrell.” Ean was grateful for his voice training, which allowed him to raise his voice enough to be heard here on world, even without the lines. “Admiral Carrell. Do you know how we stopped Redmond stealing Scout Ship Three?”

He waited until the noise had subsided.

“I promised it a crew of its own. I introduced the ship to its crew.” Ean searched the hall for Councilor Shimson. He bowed to him. “Councilor Shimson, Admiral Trask,” who was seated next to him. “I promised Scout Ship Three to Xanto.”

The council members started talking over each other.

“Why does Xanto get a ship first?”

“How can a ship choose its own crew?”

“You have to stop this happening. Surely you control the ships.”

“Intelligent ships. It’s a farce, to force us into deciding before we’re ready.”

“Which ships are choosing? We need more time.”

“Mightn’t be a bad idea to move faster. We get our own ship, with entrenched linesmen. Lancia couldn’t drag it back after that.”

The noise of over one hundred people speaking at once battered at him. Ean held his hands up to stop their talking. For a wonder, they quieted.

“These are alien ships. They are sentient.” If the members of the council didn’t know that by now, they were living in denial. “They don’t think as we do. For us to have control, tell me who gets which ship, and I will introduce the linesmen of that world to their ships. As long as they see progress, I think the ships will wait longer.”

“And the Confluence,” Admiral Carrell demanded.

“Give me two linesmen from every world for it. Pledge those linesmen as part of your gaining your own ship.”

Someone whose voice Ean didn’t recognize said, “But the Confluence hasn’t got a captain yet.”

He really wasn’t going to mention Sale. “I’m sure all of you already have a captain in mind. Put their name forward. Let the council decide. Just give the Confluence a crew while you’re deciding.”

He held up his hand for silence again. And got it. “I don’t need to remind you of the fragility of the fleet.” This was a closed session, after all. Everyone here knew facts that weren’t general knowledge. Like how the fleets jumped together unless they had a linesman in control. He wasn’t sure if they all knew it had to be a line seven, but they knew the limitations. “If Scout Ship Three had jumped, the whole fleet would have jumped into enemy territory.”

He paused, then added, “I urge you to act now to be sure the ships are under your control.” Abram and Michelle would have been proud of his double meaning there. “Before it’s too late.”

He left the council chambers as more animated chatter broke out. This wasn’t his decision to make. The council needed time to argue.

Emperor Yu and the Factor of the Lesser Gods were in the outer chamber, along with the media and support staff who were locked out when a closed council was in session.

Yu paced. The man was always pacing. The Factor was speaking with two well-dressed officials. His body language was eloquent. The horror, the shame, the sense of betrayal. It wasn’t hard to surmise they were talking about the attempted theft of Scout Ship Three.

If Michelle did marry the Factor, they’d be able to converse in body gestures alone. Michelle and Abram could hold silent conversations, too. Only they hadn’t needed grandiloquent gestures. They’d held whole conversations with a raised eyebrow or a twist of lips.

Yu stopped pacing when he saw Ean. Ean was glad of Bhaksir and her team, who fell in around him and marched him out, looking straight ahead. They exited the gallery before the media descended.

“We should stay and see what the Factor says,” Ean said.

“No.” Bhaksir took him straight to the roof. “We’ve orders to get you back on ship as quickly as we can.”

To be honest, he was glad. Here on world, he was blind and deaf. He didn’t know what was going on. How easily one got used to having access to the lines.

“Can we watch the council meeting?”

Bhaksir nodded, and Ean listened to the regular business until it was time to call the Factor.

The Factor stood before the councilors, tall and imposing. “Council of the New Alliance. I come to you with this plea. The Worlds of the Lesser Gods are vulnerable. Our former ally, Redmond, has deserted us. We stood alone. Then, out of the goodness of your hearts, the New Alliance is considering us as potential allies. You have adopted us and made us feel welcome. And how do we repay you?”

He paused, long enough to let the message sink in but not long enough for Admiral Carrell to interject.

“With treachery. A traitor from my own party. A man I trusted. A man working with my enemy, our enemy, to steal what is yours.”

He was a mesmerizing speaker. By the time he got to the end, Ean wanted to applaud.

Some members of the council did.

“What will happen to those traitors? To this man I trusted with my own life? Will they receive the punishment that is due? No. They will languish in a prison for the rest of their life. I ask you, councilors. Isn’t that too kind?”

Another pause.

“Will they even give us the information we require? On the Worlds of the Lesser Gods, we deal with betrayers as they deserve. We take them, we break them. We get our answers. And then we destroy them.

“I, the Factor of the Lesser Gods, ask this of you. Let us take these people and find out what they know. Let us treat them with the contempt they deserve. Allow me to salve a small amount of the harm that was done to my worlds, to the reputation of my betrothed’s world. Grant me this means of making amends.

“I will escort them personally. I will ensure the correct questions are asked. I will share this knowledge with you. With all of you.”

It was a measured dig at the Department of Alien Affairs.

He got applause, and Ean heard Carrell’s “Well said.”

Afterward, when the noise had died down, Abram asked the first question. “So you are proposing to take these thieves back to your world and torture them?”

That question raised a chorus of complaints. “Come, Galenos,” Admiral Carrell said. “You can’t tell me Lancia never tortured anyone.”

“I’m not even trying,” Abram said. “But I question whether it is necessary. We have efficient questioning techniques of our own. Humanitarian ones. Can we trust that the Worlds of the Lesser Gods will pass the information they receive back to us? If we allow them to take these people and question them, how do we know what results we will get back? How do we know they will be questioned?”

It was the closest anyone had come yet to accusing the Worlds of the Lesser Gods outright of being involved.

Ean couldn’t see what Michelle thought of that.

“If you are so concerned about their not doing the right thing,” Carrell said, “why don’t you send someone with them to oversee that it is done properly.”

“Hear, hear,” another councilor said. And a second, then a third.

“I propose we vote on the Factor’s request that he be allowed to take the criminals back to the Worlds of the Lesser Gods,” Admiral Carrell said. “With the proviso that we are allowed to send two observers. One from Lancia, another chosen by the council by vote.”

The vote went seventy-one to sixty-nine, the Factor’s way. Michelle voted for the Factor’s proposal; Abram voted against. It was the first time Ean could recall that Michelle and Abram hadn’t voted the same way.

Emperor Yu, from the visitor’s gallery, volunteered Commodore Bach as the Lancastrian to accompany the prisoners.

“After all,” he told Michelle when they were back on the Lancastrian Princess, “we need someone we can trust to oversee the operation.”

Ean eavesdropped unashamedly.

“You honor us all.” Michelle looked cool and composed, but through the lines Ean could hear how utterly weary she was, could taste the bitterness and the exhaustion. She looked over to Commodore Bach. “I would appreciate it if you would go. I have the utmost trust in you.”

Bach bowed low. “Thank you. Be sure that everything I do, I do only for Lancia.”

Ean was on Confluence Station when the shuttleload of prisoners boarded the ship Lancia had provided for the trip back to the Worlds of the Lesser Gods. He waited with Sale and Orsaya while it jumped.

How had the Factor gotten a jump so quickly?

“One hopes Commodore Bach’s team is enough to cope with whatever the Worlds of the Lesser Gods puts forward,” Orsaya said.

Ean wasn’t sure he trusted Bach yet.

Renaud Han hadn’t called from Baoshan Barracks, either, so he didn’t know what was happening with Radko.

He had other things to worry about right now, for Abram, Katida, and MacClennan arrived at Confluence Station. All four admirals from the Department of Alien Affairs. Here to talk about the “incident” at line training yesterday.

Ean, Rossi, and Sale joined them.

Orsaya’s staff got them sandwiches and tea. Sometimes, Ean thought the only thing working soldiers ate was sandwiches.

No one talked about what had happened that morning at the council meeting. Instead they talked about the Factor’s initial visit to the Confluence. And about the visitors’ line knowledge in general.

“The Factor was fishing,” Orsaya said. “He’s heard stories about Lambert.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t keep it a secret anymore,” Abram said. “Enough people know or suspect by now. We also have Sattur Dow asking questions about things he shouldn’t know. Someone is feeding him information.”

“I thought you ran a tight ship, Galenos,” Orsaya said. “I can’t imagine your staff giving out information like that.”

Abram blew out his breath but didn’t say anything.

“Everyone on the Lancastrian Princess is reliable,” Sale said, her voice cold.

Orsaya smiled. “Well-spoken, Group Leader. We all know that. But Galenos is as aware as we are that someone is passing information to people like Dow. There is a high probability that someone is Lancastrian.”

It wasn’t anyone on the Lancastrian Princess.

“So we come now to yesterday’s problem,” Katida said. Ean didn’t know if it was a deliberate attempt to change the subject.

“I take full responsibility,” Sale said. “I was aware of the tension. I should have acted earlier.”

No way would Ean let Sale take the blame for something he’d done. “It wasn’t Sale. She offered to help, but I wanted to sort it out myself.”

“What actually happened?” Katida asked. Her lines were muted, as if she was deliberately trying to hide them. Ean didn’t pry. He opened his mouth to answer, but Sale spoke first.

“Lambert had—has—a reputation among other linesman. Many of the multilevel linesmen in this group were aware of that reputation.”

“I didn’t control—”

“Let Group Leader Sale complete her explanation,” Orsaya said.

Ean closed his mouth.

“The problem was compounded by the fact that Linesman Rossi, a known level-ten linesman, attended the training but did not run it.”

More nods.

“One linesman in particular, Arnold Peters, has been spreading resentment. In the classes themselves, and outside of them. He is, by all accounts, convincing, and was at House of Rigel while Ean was there. He’s telling them horror stories.

“We knew there was a problem. It was manageable until yesterday, when Captain Jakob and Redmond tried to steal the scout.” Sale glanced over at Ean and Rossi. “Lambert took corrective action by moving the ship closer to the Eleven fleet.”

He was Lambert now. No one in Sale’s team ever called him Lambert.

“The bastard jumped the ship cold,” Rossi said. “He has no consideration for the welfare of anyone else on the ships.”

He wasn’t going to let Redmond—or the Worlds of the Lesser Gods—steal a ship.

“Linesman Rossi reacted by trying to prevent Lambert from moving the ship,” Sale said. “He grabbed a weapon and attempted to shoot him. Lambert’s bodyguards protected him and disarmed Rossi. Except the trainees saw a top-level linesman attacked for no obvious reason. They came in to defend him.”

Sale looked at each admiral in turn. “The problem was quickly resolved with the assistance of all crew on board the Gruen. However, Captain Gruen demanded a lockdown, as people were still angry. And her ship was damaged.”

Katida’s lines leaked amusement. “And we couldn’t have that, of course.”

“No, ma’am,” Sale said, then back to all four admirals. “That’s all, sirs.”

They turned their attention to Ean. Four intense gazes were unnerving.

“Do you have anything to add to the facts?” Katida asked.

He heard the slight emphasis on “facts,” both through her voice and through the lines.

“No, ma’am.” It felt strange calling Katida ma’am. “Except the fault is all mine. I was in charge.” Sale shouldn’t blame herself. He’d been running the training. “But I disagree with the implication that I have no concern for other people and their welfare. The jump was perfectly safe. If I only cared for the ships, I would have allowed the ship to be taken. It wanted crew. All the alien ships do.” He pressed his lips together before he said anything further.

Katida turned back to Sale. “Do we have a plan for dealing with future problems?”

“We were hoping that as the linesmen learned more about the lines, they would come around.”

“If we get rid of Peters?”

“I’m not sure that will solve the problem,” Sale said. “Although we have discussed that.”

They’d mentioned it. Was that the full amount of their discussion, or had they talked about it elsewhere?

“Peters makes a lot of noise,” Sale said. “But they’re linesmen. The singles should be realizing the benefits by now and shutting him down, even if the multilevels aren’t. But the singles are almost worse than the multilevels. He shouldn’t have that much influence. Not on his own.”

“So there may be a second troublemaker,” Katida said. “Any idea who?” Her lines didn’t sound surprised. None of the others looked surprised either. It was almost as if they expected it.

“No, ma’am. We haven’t ascertained that yet.”

“The question,” Admiral MacClennan said, “is whether the trouble is deliberate, or whether they’re just linesmen aggrieved about the training?”

Ean hoped they weren’t trying to find excuses to absolve him. “How could it be deliberate?”

“Ean,” Katida said, “you truly do need to spend some time in my military. Build up some paranoia.”

“Put Burns in,” Orsaya suggested. “He’s a single. Many people still believe he’s Rossi’s assistant. There might be some sympathy there.”

“What if they think he’s a spy?” Fergus worked with Ean. If the trainees turned on him, he’d have no chance.

“I’ll put him in a protective suit,” Abram said. Ean had a suit of his own back on the Lancastrian Princess. He’d never worn it, other than to try it on. “Although we won’t be close enough if anything goes wrong. Ean?”

“The lines will look after him.” They considered Fergus part of the Eleven fleet, and the Gruen was an Eleven ship.

“You’d better make sure he’s safe, bastard.”

“I will, but why don’t you do something about it as well?”

Rossi crossed his arms over his chest and didn’t answer.

Orsaya said, “We’ll all be watching to see what we can find. Burns will be the most protected man in the whole of the New Alliance.”

Did the trainees realize they’d now be watched by four fleets?

Abram called Fergus up immediately. “Burns, we’re placing you on the Gruen. Group Leader Sale and Linesman Lambert will explain what you need to do.” Then he called Gruen. “We’re sending Linesman Burns to the Gruen temporarily. Please look after him.”

She nodded. “I’ve sent through a list of damages.”

“We’ll have it attended to,” Abram promised, and clicked off.

What did Gruen do after a battle, when her ship was badly damaged? Hound the admiralty until it was fixed?

After that, they walked down to the shuttle bay together.

“Abram.” Ean dropped back.

Abram matched his pace to Ean’s. This close there were more lines around his eyes than there had been, and he looked tired.

“Did the council say anything? About getting crew for the fleet ships.”

Abram smiled. “You certainly stirred them up. Made them a lot happier, actually. They’re scared of Lancia and worried they’ll lose their ships to us. Your message this morning gave them a way to be sure they don’t, without actually admitting Lancia is a problem. You’ll have your ships allocated soon.”

“Good. Because the ships are already choosing their own linesmen. The Confluence is vetting each linesman who comes on board.” And not only the linesmen. Should he tell Abram about Sale?

“Although”—and the corners of Abram’s mouth quirked—“your announcement that you’ve already given one ship away was unexpected.” He breathed out, a soft sigh Ean heard through the lines rather than actually heard. “I wish that yours were the only type of problems we had to deal with.”

Did that mean he minded what Ean had done? Or that he didn’t? Whether he did or didn’t, the ships would choose. “Put sentient ships around sentience for too long, and you won’t have any choice who goes where.”

“So, is it humans who are giving the lines sentience, then? Or is it that the lines, so long being used to a different sentience, are adapting to humans?”

Ean didn’t know, but wondering about it had brought back some of Abram’s energy and spirit. Maybe it was time to raise the other matter.

“Did you know the captain of a ship doesn’t have to be the captain?”

Abram raised an eyebrow.

“Patten isn’t the one Confluence Station thinks is in charge. That’s a guy called Ryley.”

“Malcolm Ryley? Patten’s second-in-command?”

“Yes.”

“He’s probably a better choice,” Abram said. “So you say if a ship has a bad captain, it chooses its own.”

How bad had Patten been? Ean shrugged. “It chooses its own if it doesn’t have a captain.” Maybe Ryley had been around longer. Maybe the station liked Ryley better. “It finds someone who looks after it and is there all the time.”

Abram didn’t get the hint.

“The ships are starting to do that.”

Abram said, “That may be no bad thing.”

There was nothing Ean could say to that.

Fergus greeted them with, “Have you ever worn one of these things?” Externally, he didn’t look any different. Not even bulkier. “They’re dreadful.”

“They keep you alive,” Sale said.

“But still, against a bunch of linesmen?”

“Linesmen who are in the military. Who’ve been trained to shoot accurately and shoot fast.”

“Are they likely to be a problem?”

“Why don’t you ask Rossi, over there, who’ll be wearing that splint on his wrist for the next three days? Or Ean, whose leg is fresh from rehab.”

Technically, the damage to Ean had been done by Rossi, and the damage to Rossi by Bhaksir and her team.

“Why are we expecting problems?” Fergus asked. “Surely, the business of yesterday cleared the air.”

“One can only hope,” Sale said. “Unfortunately, it seems to have had the opposite effect, and everyone is resentful because that lockdown will be on their record. We want you to find out if someone is deliberately stirring up trouble.”

“Peters?”

“Probably not Peters. He’s more likely to be a vocal result of whoever is stirring them up.”

Fergus nodded. “Anything else?”

“Be prepared. Don’t be complacent.”

Fergus nodded again.

They walked down to the shuttle bay with him—their second walk for the night—while Sale gave Fergus last-minute instructions. A frowning Rossi accompanied them, the first show of line solidarity in what felt like a long time.

“We’ll look after him.”

“Thank you.”

“The lines will protect you,” Ean said.

“That’s good to know. Thank you.”

What harm could befall Fergus on the Gruen anyway? It was a fleet ship; it should be safe.

“See you tomorrow at training.” Ean hoped his foreboding was more to do with his concern about facing the trainees again than it was about what might happen to Fergus in the meantime.

Sale, Craik, and her team accompanied Ean to line training the following day. They had a full complement of senior linesmen, with Rossi, Hernandez, and Fergus all present.

“I want to talk to them,” Ean told Sale. “Rather than you tell them off, I mean.”

Later, facing the trainees in the cargo hold, he wasn’t as confident. Gruen had provided her own guards, and they stood ready—with weapons—for any assault.

Fergus smiled encouragement. He, at least, was still whole and safe.

“What happened yesterday was a disgrace to us all, as people, and to the lines you are learning to work with. Some of you have issues with me being your trainer.” He paused and looked them over. Peters opened his mouth to say something. “Don’t say it, Peters, or I’ll be forced to use you as an example.”

Peters closed his mouth with a snap. Ean breathed out; that was one battle he hadn’t wanted to fight.

“I’m sure you’ve all had trainers before that you didn’t like. Ones you didn’t think capable of training you. They weren’t necessarily the highest rank in their field, either. Did you pick a fight with your trainers and continuously undermine them? I doubt it. You gritted your teeth and hoped to get through the course.”

They were all silent. How much of that was because they were listening to him, and how much of it was because of Gruen’s armed guards around the room? Sale’s team, too, although they didn’t look as menacing as Gruen’s people even if they were more dangerous.

“Yesterday was your last chance. You work with the program or you are out.”

He took a deep breath. “As some of you mentioned, you’re not getting access to the alien ships, even though you think you deserve it.” He could tell them now that they didn’t deserve it, but they wouldn’t believe him. “You have to earn that access. Once you earn it, we’ll take you on a tour.”

Sale straightened but didn’t say anything.

“And who decides when we’ve earned it?” Peters couldn’t stay quiet for long. “You? We know who you’ll pick.”

“Not me.” He looked out over the crowd to the linesmen at the back. Hernandez, scowling at the group. Rossi, arms crossed, frowning. Fergus, stiff in his armored suit. “Since you all know how good he is, Linesman Rossi will deem whether you’ve earned a trip to the alien ships.”

“Don’t include me in your crazy schemes.”

“We’re linesmen, Rossi. We work together.”

He watched the speculative looks the trainees shared. Some of them were definitely out to prove themselves. Even Peters looked interested.

“So what earns us a pass?” Kentish demanded.

“You talk to the lines; you hear them when they talk back to you. Rossi will tell you if you’re doing it right or not.”

“Thank you very much.”

Ean smiled. “Let’s start training, shall we.”

Jordan Rossi wasn’t a patient man, or a tolerant one. He listened to each linesman sing, pointed left or right, then moved on to the next. The four Xantos went right, and Ean already knew they could hear the lines, so that meant those on the left needed more training.

Peters was sent left.

Ean went over to him. “Can you feel the lines? Like you do normally, I mean.”

“Is this a trick question?”

Ean hid his sigh. “No,” direct to Peters, and then to the lines, “Please tell him no.”

A strong chorus of noes filled the room, mixed in with some of Ean’s exasperation. Even the elevens joined in.

Peters looked taken aback.

“Do you mind?” Rossi said.

“Did you understand what I said?” Ean asked Peters.

“No.”

Ean didn’t push it. He moved on to the next linesman.

Halfway through training, Vega left a message. Renaud Han was in Haladean space. She’d sent him to Confluence Station. She would meet Ean there.

They met in the small meeting room off the main control room.

“You got here quickly,” Vega said

“I will do whatever needs to be done for my son.” It was both a promise and a challenge. “He’s not involved. He’s an honest boy and works hard. He doesn’t know about any of this.”

“And what did it take to get a ship here so fast?”

It wasn’t the first question Ean would have asked, but Renaud laughed. “I’ve been smuggling goods for fourteen years now. Getting a ship was the least of my problems.”

Vega didn’t even blink although Ean did. “You don’t strike me as a man likely to become involved in smuggling, Lord Renaud. What could you possibly gain?”

“Isn’t that what this is about?” Renaud asked.

Was Radko was chasing smugglers on Redmond? No. Vega wouldn’t have sent her there for that. Not unless someone was smuggling war secrets.

“I’m not ashamed of what I did.”

“Tell the damn story, Renaud, or I’ll feed you a truth drug. We’ve got more important things than having you procrastinating.”

Lord Renaud nodded and blew into his cupped palms. Maybe to give himself courage.

“You need to understand why I did it.”

“Tell us, then.”

“My son was a monster.” Bald and flat, and absolutely honest, according to the lines.

“This son you are trying so desperately to rescue?”

“Of course not. Let me tell it from the beginning.”

Vega nodded.

“Yves was… you don’t need to know… but we started sending him away for treatment when we discovered what he was like.”

He relaxed as he spoke. Ean thought he might be relieved to tell it.

“We got a look-alike for some of the public functions because, of course, we had to keep up appearances. It wouldn’t do to show the Emperor we had a weakness.”

Emperor Yu again, controlling everyone’s lives. One man shouldn’t have that much power.

“Jaxon was a lovely boy. And although Amina never said it to my face, I know we both wished he was our son, and not Yves.”

Renaud blew into his hands again. He was trembling now. “Yves got worse, especially once he started line training. There were incidents. Here, and on Roscracia.”

House of Sandhurst was on Roscracia, and Vega had said Han trained at Sandhurst.

“One girl.” Renaud’s voice didn’t change, but the wave of horror—bitter and nose-clearingly sharp—overwhelmed the lines.

“The girl?” Vega prompted Renaud.

“Her mother decided to kill Yves. He came back to Lancia for a function. She blew up the hotel. Killed him, killed herself, and fifty other people.”

That would be the explosion where Yves Han had lost his line ability.

“They told us that Yves was dead. Then they said they’d made a mistake, and he was in the hospital.” Renaud breathed into his palms again. “We think the initial prognosis—that Yves was dead—came from the DNA they got from the bomb scene. Then someone at the hospital recognized Yves as our son. We didn’t know Yves had asked Jaxon to stand in for him. Not for weeks. Not until they started the skin grafts and found we were incompatible.”

Vega nodded.

“So we went to his parents. They wanted money. For what we’d done to their son.” Renaud looked earnestly at them both. “Understand, no one expected Yves—Jaxon—to recover fully. We all thought he’d… so we paid them off, provided they came in every week for skin grafts.”

Renaud breathed in deeply again. The opposite of Abram, who always blew out. “They’re still getting their money.

“Things went well for a while. Yves—Jaxon—recovered, although he didn’t remember much at first. Everyone thought he was Yves, treated him like Yves. His parents stayed away, provided they got their money.”

A lot of families Ean knew would give up their sons for a regular allowance.

“Did he ever remember?” Vega asked.

“In the end, but, of course, we wouldn’t listen. We always changed the subject.” Another deep breath. “Tiana Chen found out. I don’t know if you know her. She sticks around the fringes of court, finding everyone’s secrets and blackmailing them.”

“She blackmailed you?”

“Yes. Yves guessed we were being blackmailed. So he joined the fleet.” A laugh that was half sob. “I think he felt guilty. He thought it would solve things. Only the entry tests—”

“Would have picked up that he was an imposter,” Vega said.

“Yes.” Renaud rubbed his hands together again. “I found someone. On Redmond. They agreed to switch the DNA records in exchange for my sending them things from Lancia. Medical supplies, mostly, because the taxes between the two worlds quadruple the cost. There were some things you couldn’t send to Redmond, even back then.”

Ean shivered. The adopted son would have thought he was fixing things. But he hadn’t. He’d made it much, much worse.

“How did you get the items to Redmond?”

“I have a friend.” Renaud stopped.

“He won’t get into trouble. We’re interested in your son, right now.”

“He’s a good friend. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“I’ve already said no repercussions for him.”

“He exports live shellfish. He gave me access to the ships he uses. He’s their best customer. They’ll do anything for him.”

“So let me get this straight,” Vega said. “The boy’s parents are blackmailing you. Tiana Chen is blackmailing you. And Redmond is blackmailing you and asking you to smuggle medical supplies and other goods.”

“Yves is worth every credit. And I’ll still happily pay it.”

The truth of that was a high crystal note through the lines.

“So what changed,” Vega asked. “You wouldn’t be this stressed about something that’s been going on for years.”

Renaud rubbed his eyes. “A month after the formation of the New Alliance I got a visit from someone. I didn’t know him, but he was Lancastrian. Military, I think, but I couldn’t be sure. He said, ‘We know you are sending items to Redmond. We want you to send things for us, as well.’”

“And if you didn’t?”

“They would take Yves and torture him. Suddenly, instead of passing medical supplies, I’m passing fleet plans and… alien gadgets and I don’t know what else.”

“Alien gadgets?” Ean asked.

“I recognized one of them. From the media. A little thing about so big.” Renaud cupped his hands.

Ean wanted to ask him to describe it further. He didn’t.

“I knew it was wrong. Of course I did. We’re at war. I couldn’t keep it up, not even for Yves. So I went to Commodore Bach.”

“What did he do?” Vega’s tone was mild.

“He told me to keep sending the items but to tell him about each shipment. That if I stopped, Redmond would likely make good on their promise to harm Yves. Or at the very least kidnap him and use that to force us to continue sending goods.”

Renaud blinked hard and breathed in three times fast in succession, nearly choking himself. He blinked again. “No one saw me go to Bach, but not long after that Yves leaves the barracks without calling me first. He knows we worry if he goes away. He always calls to let us know.”

“How often does he go away?”

“Hardly ever. He’s a military policeman. He’s stationed at Baoshan Barracks.”

Who had assigned Yves Jaxon Han to Baoshan? Ean suspected Renaud wouldn’t be above dropping a word in the ear of someone in power to get his “son” a job somewhere safe, where the worst thing he was likely to come across were soldiers drunk after a night out. Where the Han family could keep an eye on him.

“When Yves finally calls, he’s on Redmond, and he wants Gunter to send shellfish so he can escape. How does he even know we always put the smuggled goods in with the shellfish? Not unless someone is forcing him to call.”

And people said the families in the slums were strange.

“Well, it’s a mess,” Vega said in the silence that followed. “It’s also a damned remarkable coincidence. Gunter Wong is one of the few Lancastrians who can still get ships off Lancia on a regular basis. His product has a short shelf life, and he has buyers in Gate Union and Redmond who keep the lines open for him. We follow the shellfish orders.”

Abram probably used it, too. The Lancastrian ambassador on Haladea III ordered Gippian shellfish for functions.

“I sent Han on this mission, Lord Renaud,” Vega said.

Renaud sagged. Physically and emotionally. Through the lines it was a long, slow, gray relief. Someone should test Renaud Han for line ability.

“So it is a job? He’s safe?”

Vega didn’t answer that. She turned to Ean. “The team went down with a cargo of shellfish. One of them might have recognized it as a potential escape route.”

Radko would even if no one else had.

“Did they get off Redmond?” Ean asked. The most important question.

“I’m not sure yet. But the ship manifest doesn’t show any problems.”

“Don’t you know?” Based on what Renaud had told them, he would have asked, and if Gunter Wong was such a friend, he’d have told him.

“Yves hasn’t contacted me,” Renaud said. “If he’s on a job, I can’t compromise him by calling him up.”

Surely it was too late to think of that now. “Where did the ship go after it left Redmond?”

Renaud paused, and the lines reluctantly deflated. They really should test his line ability.

“Aeolus.”

Ean had never heard of Aeolus two weeks ago. Still, the Worlds of the Lesser Gods was friendly to Lancia. Wasn’t it? So why wasn’t Radko back by now?

He glanced at Vega. She was scowling at him. She might have given Radko and her team more than one task. Who said they weren’t off doing their job?

“I’ll see how far Bach got investigating what happened.” Vega called Sale. “Group Leader. Arrange secure accommodation for Lord Renaud on Confluence Station.” Then she said to Renaud, “I’ll keep you informed.”

“Thank you.”

Ean said, after Renaud had left, “You know Bach wasn’t doing anything. Except damage control.”

“Damage control. It’s an odd phrase, don’t you think.” Vega frowned. “I wonder if Bach had an operation of his own on Redmond, and our people got in the way.”

“Don’t you talk to each other?”

“Of course we do, but there are always secret ops.” She glared at him, as if he were to blame, but Ean was used to the Vega glare by now. That was her normal expression. “I’ll find out.”

She started for the door, paused. “I almost forgot. We still don’t know about this top secret project Linesman Glenn was working on, but we did find out that House of Sandhurst recently signed a big contract with TwoPaths Engineering to supply more linesmen for them.”