The yacht arrived about four hours later. In the meantime, I stayed aboard Predator. I hoped that my presence would keep some miner from firing on the destroyer just for fun.
I spent the interim learning the rest of the story. Shar had been suspicious of Jonas for several years, and had accumulated evidence that Jonas had been skimming money from Fleet procurement contracts. When Jonas had announced his discovery of Cord’s ‘treason’, Shar had been sure something was wrong. Shar knew Cord, at least by sight and reputation, from his ‘hero’ days on Prime. He knew Cord was completely and enthusiastically loyal to the Emperor. The second-level cover story had leaked to Shar almost as quickly as it had been released to Jonas’ people, and Shar was certain that something was wrong.
He knew that Wil and Sri were two of the best and brightest on Thaeron, and that they were trustworthy. He caught them one by one in his bar, took them to his office, and showed them my message.
Both had signed on, but there were practical difficulties. Luckily, the destroyer was in the orbital repair dock at the time. Shuttles and boats were always coming and going. Bendo told his crew that they would be participating in a covert marine intelligence operation, and that a company of marines would be boarding from a shuttle lorry to prevent Cord’s spies from knowing about it. He had confided in his comm officer, and told the crew that they were under comm silence for the duration of the operation.
Once Shar and the marines were aboard, the locks were sealed, and my message was played for both the ship’s crew and the marines. I was flattered to hear that every one of the marines had signed on when they were told who I was. A dozen of the ship’s crew had made an abortive attempt to escape the ship, and been locked in the brig. Then they’d blasted out of the repair dock on full emergency drive, a very risky maneuver. Once again, Bendo impressed me.
They’d waited until Jonas and his dreadnought, Nemesis, were on the opposite side of Thaeron, but they’d still had to exchange laser and missile fire with a cruiser, Relentless, and had taken some minor damage. Boosting at top speed, they’d reached the jump point a few seconds ahead of a pursuing destroyer. They’d emerged at Haven’s system, and started yelling for Cord or me.
I was amazed that so many people had taken such a chance based only on my message to Shar.
As soon as the yacht arrived, we four went aboard, and I established a subspace connection with Cord. He’d obviously been anxiously awaiting my call, as he arrived in his comm room within thirty seconds. I introduced the others, and explained that I’d invited them to join the conversation so they could reassure their people.
Cord simply nodded. “Very well. Please have your operator begin recording this session, so it can be replayed for them.” As I signaled the operator, Cord turned to my companions. “Gentlemen,” he nodded to Bendo and Tor. Then he turned to Shar with a genuine smile. “Commander, a great pleasure to see you again!”
Shar looked stunned. “Y-You remember me, sir?”
Cord's smile widened. “One does not easily forget meeting a man who has won the Empire's highest honor, Commander. I hope your presence means that you'll be joining us.” Shar nodded dumbly, and Cord returned the nod before returning his attention to the others.
“Anticipating that a conversation like this might occur,” he began, “I’ve retrieved copies of some messages that I’d like to play for you now.” For some reason, his tone had gone flat and his face expressionless.
Cord’s image faded, and was replaced by a thin, frail-looking white-haired man in the uniform of a Fleet Admiral.
Bendo gasped, and Tor cried, “Gods! That’s Chu-Lo!”
Fleet Admiral Chu-Lo was seated behind an empty desk, a grim expression on his face as he began speaking.
“Begin Message One. From Vinlen Chu-Lo, Fleet Admiral, Imperial Fleet, To Micah Jonas, Rear Admiral, Imperial Fleet. Unofficial, Unclassified.”
“Jonas,” he continued with the air of a man looking at something unpleasant, “I don’t know what you think you’re playing at out there, but you’ve really stepped in it this time, and not even your family’s connections are going to get you out of it.” His lip curled in disgust. “You’re a bloody fool!” The Fleet Admiral paused while he regained his composure. “I’m dictating these messages myself, and in clear, so that there can be no claims of coding errors or misinterpretations.” He shook his head. “End Message!”
His image didn’t fade. “Begin message two. From Commander-In-chief, Imperial Fleet, To Rear Admiral Micah Jonas, Commander, Rim Sector. Official, Unclassified. Subject, Orders.
“Paragraph One,” He began. “Effective upon receipt of this message, you are relieved of your duties as COMRIMSEC.
“Paragraph Two. You will present yourself to Captain Van-Lyn of Nemesis and report yourself under quarters arrest pending the arrival of an investigative team from the Fleet Judge Advocate General’s office.
“Paragraph Three. In the interests of good order and discipline, you will support the new COMRIMSEC’s assertions that you have removed yourself from your command due to ill health. End Message.” The old Admiral's face could have been carved from stone.
His tone warmed slightly as he continued, “Begin message three. From Commander-In-Chief, Imperial Fleet to Captain Jamin Van-Lyn, Commanding Officer, ESS Nemesis. Official. Unclassified. Subject, Orders.
“Paragraph One. Effective upon receipt of this message, you will temporarily assume the additional duty of Commander, Rim Sector. As this appointment is temporary and additional, you are authorized to retain command of Nemesis.
“Paragraph Two. You will accept the surrender and report of Rear Admiral Micah Jonas under quarters arrest pending the arrival of an investigative team from the Fleet Judge Advocate General’s office. You will insure adequate security to prevent escape or subornation of Fleet personnel.
“Paragraph Three. In the interests of good order and discipline, you will announce that Rear Admiral Jonas relieved himself as COMRIMSEC due to ill health.
“Paragraph Four. Upon arrival of the JAG Investigating team now enroute, you will support and assist the investigating team in any way requested, to include facilities, support, and ensuring the presence of Fleet personnel for questioning or testimony. End message.”
Finally, the stony expression relaxed, and the formal tone dissolved. “Begin message four. From Vinlen Chu-Lo, Fleet Admiral, Imperial Fleet to Jamin Van-Lyn, Captain, Imperial Fleet. Unofficial. Unclassified.”
“Jamin, I’m sorry to put you in this position, but Jonas has really stepped on it this time. Don’t take any guff from him; the authority is yours now. A word of warning: he’s loathsome, but he’s shrewd. He knows that his family can’t get him off this time, so he may try something desperate. Be on your guard. End message.” This time the image faded, and Cord reappeared.
“These messages were received about three months ago,” he said. “Obviously, Jonas is not under arrest. Evidently, they were too late; Jonas had already subverted Van-Lyn.
“But those messages,” he continued, his tone cold, “show where the Fleet stands. I hope that you and your people are reassured. And certainly, for what it’s worth, I offer my word that all Fleet personnel who so desire will be repatriated.”
Suddenly, Cord sat forward in his chair, anger suffusing his face. “I also want you to know that I am appalled! I find it difficult to believe that Fleet personnel would even for a microsecond believe that Fleet HQ, or me, or the Emperor himself, would violate a thousand-year-old tradition. Every one of you learned in boot camp or Officer Candidate School the basic tenet that everyone in the Fleet buys a round-trip ticket. Ships have been lost and people have died trying to bring home Fleet people or their bodies.”
He slammed his fist on the arm of his chair. “How dare you? How dare you believe that the Emperor or I would try such a thing, or that Fleet Admiral Chu-Lo would permit it? The entire Fleet would rebel first! So, I give you your assurances, but I'm ashamed of you for asking for them.” He glared at the three officers who by now were at rigid attention. “By the authority vested in me as Sector Viceroy, I now assume authority over all Fleet vessels, equipment, and personnel under your commands. You will place yourselves under the command of Commodore Val Kedron, and you will disregard any communication from the former Commander, Rim Sector, Micah Jonas, or his minions. The recording of this meeting is to be shown to all Fleet personnel presently in Predator. Is that specific enough for you, gentlemen?”
“AYE, AYE, SIR!” The roar would have done credit to recruits in boot camp, but it came from three company-grade officers frozen like cadets.
Cord nodded, his face still grim. “Very well, gentlemen. You are dismissed. Mr. Tan-Li, would you remain a moment, please?”
Bendo and Tor wheeled and marched out, ramrod straight. Shar remained at attention.
As the hatch closed, Cord's image relaxed. “Mr. Tan-Li, I’m well aware that you are retired. While I have the authority to activate your commission, I do not intend to do so without your consent. I hope that you will join us as the Commodore’s deputy and Flag Captain. It’s tempting to assume that your appearance in uniform implies a wish to volunteer, but I must also consider that it may have been a ruse necessary to escape from Thaeron. So, I ask you; do I have your permission to activate your commission and promote you to Captain, so that you can serve with us?”
Shar was still at attention. “Sir, it would be my honor and pleasure to serve in the positions you mentioned, or any other in your service.” The heartfelt sincerity in his tone spoke volumes. Sharlo Tan-Li had met a man he respected.
Cord nodded. “Thank you, Captain. I’m sure we'll speak again. For now, though, will you excuse us? I have some things to discuss with the Commodore.”
Shar snapped Cord a smart salute, wheeled, and marched out.
Cord sighed and settled back into his chair. “You were pretty rough…” I began.
Cord shook his head. “You don’t understand, Commodore. Those people risked everything to escape Thaeron. However, ever since the adrenaline wore off, everyone on that ship has been second-guessing himself or herself, worrying themselves and their shipmates with doubts. Did they really do the right thing? Or have they become involved in a mutiny? They needed a kick in the pants; a reminder of who and what they are.
“If I’d pampered them, you’d have had a ship with a demoralized crew, and a bunch of incompetent marines. However, I’ve stung them. I’ve reminded them. Now, they’ll be aching for the chance to show me that I was wrong about them. You have a ship full of motivated, competent people instead of emotional cripples. You’ll see. We’ll have their respect, now.”
I shrugged. “You may be right…”
Cord waved a hand. “I am right, Commodore. Military people are easy to deal with. For the most part, they’re honest and straightforward. You should try to deal with politicians regularly.”
I shuddered. “No, thanks, sir. Uh, tell me, sir, did you really remember Shar, or did you just look him up for this meeting?”
Cord shook his head. “You disappoint me, Commodore. You’re always thinking the worst of me. Of course I remembered Commander Tan-Li. One meets very few genuine heroes at court; I’d scarcely forget one of the two real ones I’ve met.”
Two? I was afraid to ask. It was time to get down to business anyway. “Uh, you know that Predator has created a problem for us?”
Cord nodded. “I know. They’ve forced Jonas’ hand, and ours, as well. He can no longer pretend that everything is normal on Thaeron, and I can no longer pretend to believe that. We’re both being forced into a fight for which neither of us is prepared.”
For nearly an hour, Cord and I considered and rejected a dozen possible actions. Finally, reluctantly, we concluded that we had only one choice. “I have to go to Thaeron after all.” I said reluctantly.
It was almost two hours later that I finally emerged from the yacht’s comm room while the subspace operators transferred images of Bendo and Tor’s service records. But, we had a plan. Not a good one, but a plan, nevertheless. Cord would be risking his expensive yacht and a detachment of marines. I would be risking confinement or death.
He was right about the Fleet people aboard Predator, though. Both Bendo and Tor spoke of him in admiring tones, and were determined to show him how good they really were. When Tor asked for volunteers to form a commando for the marines’ part in the plan, every man in his company volunteered. He selected the best twenty, and I heard that there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth when the names were announced.
A review of their records pretty much confirmed my original impressions of our two newest recruits. Bendo was one of those people with the annoying ability to excel at everything he tried. Evaluations and incident reports showed him to be imaginative and highly efficient. Despite this, he seemed to relate well to others, and was respected and well liked by superiors, contemporaries and subordinates. Obviously, flag material.
Tor was also what he appeared to be: a career marine whose ambitions didn’t include a flag, because to strive for flag rank, he’d have to leave his beloved marines. A dedicated and highly effective field commander, he showed an intuitive grasp of strategic and tactical concepts. He’d also shown in battle that while he respected Standard Operating Procedures, he was imaginative and resourceful enough to scrap them when they didn’t apply, and try new ones. Tor was what I’d been looking for — someone who could coordinate and command our ground-based resistance efforts.
For my part, I had to pin two more stars on each shoulder. Cord had decided that for this to work, I had to outrank Jonas. So now, I was Vice Admiral Val Kedron. I was certainly going up the ladder fast, I reflected. I was embarrassed rather than pleased, though. I'd earned none of the promotions.
Few people would have noticed anyway. I was spending all of my time on Cord’s yacht, the Rimrunner. A computer expert was making programming modifications and introducing me to the yacht’s artificial intelligence. The AI that ran the yacht was the most advanced I’d ever encountered; sometimes it seemed to border on sentience. Cord evidently felt the same way, since he’d given it a female voice and a name, Kaleen.
Introducing me to Kaleen involved more than a handshake. It took major programming and a lot of patience to add me to the people to whom she was loyal (making a total of two). She also had to be programmed to fulfill her end of the plan. Kaleen was a major, if not the major player in the plan.
The marine commando set off for Thaeron aboard a rim tramp.
A few days later, all was in readiness, and I could put it off no longer. I departed for Thaeron, alone aboard Rimrunner. Part of me was relieved to know that I’d no longer have to face bridge duty with Suli; another part was bemoaning that fact.
When he’d first come to the rim, Cord had done his homework. He’d heard that the rim was more technologically advanced than the rest of the Empire. He’d also noticed that rimworlders seemed to suffer from an inferiority complex despite their technological expertise.
With typical Cord imagination, he’d tackled both problems at once. He’d commissioned a rim-built ship to highlight the very best the rim could produce, with cost not a factor. He’d talked it up as something that he could take back to Prime, to show the Emperor.
Not surprisingly, it had worked. He’d challenged their abilities, and with cost eliminated as a factor, the very best minds on the rim had worked themselves ragged for ten years making sure that Rimrunner was the most advanced ship in the Empire.
She was smaller than a rim tramp, in keeping with her role as a yacht. However, she had a rim tramp’s reaction engines and gravity compensators. Her jump engines were much larger than those of the tramps were, and rivaled those of a cruiser. I doubt there was a ship in space that could catch her.
The crowning jewel of Rimrunner, though, was Kaleen. According to the computer tech working with her, Kaleen was the most advanced artificial intelligence in the universe. In fact, he claimed that there were ongoing arguments among computer scientists all over the rim over whether Kaleen was sentient. Since no one had come up with a way to establish true sentience, or even a mutually agreeable definition of it, the arguments threatened to go on forever.
I was in no position to judge. Therefore, I treated Kaleen as though she were one of my crew, one that happened to be a whole ship. Sentient or not, I try never to get machinery mad at me. I know how that sounds, but I’ve also seen equipment that functioned flawlessly for me try to kill people who didn’t respect it.
While we were still driving for our jump point, I decided to begin getting to know Kaleen without a computer tech as intermediary. “Have you computed our first jump, Kaleen?”
“Yes, Vice Admiral. We will jump in two hours twenty-seven minutes and thirteen seconds.” her voice was a pleasant contralto, but without inflection; dead.
“Can you estimate our time to arrival in Thaeron’s system?”
“Yes, Vice Admiral. I estimate ninety-two hours, plus or minus twenty-six.”
“Please stop calling me ‘Vice Admiral’. Tell me, does the imprecision of a twenty-six hour margin of error bother you?”
“It is the closest estimate possible. The large margin of error results from the necessity of applying Newtonian mathematics to a non-Newtonian continuum. I do not understand the term ‘bother’ in this context.”
I chuckled. “Well, us soft people are saddled with emotions, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. When we’re not satisfied with something, we find it frustrating; and frustration becomes a low-level irritation. Bother is a term for low-level irritation.”
There was a brief silence. “I believe I understand. I may experience something similar when I contemplate a problem without a complete solution. May I ask a question?”
“Sure.”
“You have instructed me not to call you ‘Vice Admiral’. Yet it is my understanding that Vice Admiral is a rank worthy of a certain respect. Is my programming in error?”
Damn! Oh, well, I asked for it. “No, Kaleen, you were not misinformed. Vice Admiral is a rank worthy of considerable respect. In my case, however, it is unearned rank. Therefore, I do not feel deserving of the respect, and your continual use of it as a form of address makes me uncomfortable.”
“I do not understand. Are you not performing the duties of the rank? Are you not therefore entitled to the title?”
I shook my head. “No, Kaleen, I’m not really performing the duties of the rank. At least, I don’t think so. The rank was conferred specifically to insure that I outrank Rear Admiral Jonas for this mission.”
"What form of address would you prefer?"
I thought about it. Ninety-two hours each way meant Kaleen and I would be interacting a lot. Besides, I was beginning to get interested in seeing just how human Kaleen was, or could be. “Well, let’s see. If what you wish to say relates to the business of ship operation or our mission, call me Captain. It’s the title I've had longest and feel most comfortable with. If what you wish to say is social or chat, call me Val.”
“Chat is conversation without purpose. Why would I indulge in such conversation, Captain?”
I chuckled again. “You’re indulging in it now, Kaleen. Chat is conversation without specific purpose or relation to immediate duties. It is, however, not purposeless. It is how we get acquainted with each other.”
“Did I then use an inappropriate form of address, Val? Are we not already acquainted? I have a copy of your dossier stored. Have you not seen my schematics and basic programming?”
I shrugged. “No, Kaleen, as a matter of fact I haven’t seen your schematics and basic programming; and if I had, I wouldn’t have understood them. But, there’s more to people than just their records. And don’t worry about using the wrong form of address. The rules are not hard and fast.”
Silence dragged. Finally, a tone that sounded hushed, timid! “Val, am I ‘people’?” Kaleen’s voice was no longer flat, monotonic. She sounded unsure.
Oh, Gods. I thought carefully. “That’s been a topic of hot conversation and argument by experts ever since you were built, Kaleen. To me, a person is defined as a sentient being. Of course, since man has been trying to define sentient for several thousand years without notable success, that may not be the easiest definition of a person to use. Are you sentient? I don’t know what the experts would say, but to me, if the question even occurs to you, you can answer ‘yes’.”
I sighed. “I don’t know if Cord would agree with me; I know that the computer techs wouldn’t — or, at least some wouldn’t. But to me, yes, Kaleen, you’re people.” I wondered how I was going to tell Cord that he’d have to start treating his ship’s comp as a person. Oh well, it wouldn't be necessary unless we both survived this mission — not a high probability.
I suspect that Kaleen actually was sentient all the time. On the other hand, perhaps I woke her up. Nevertheless, from that time on, her voice began developing inflection and cadence. The dead, mechanical voice was gone.
I no longer had to worry about how to pass the time. Kaleen bothered me unmercifully. She was like a five-year-old, with endless questions, most of which didn’t have answers. I finally had to tell her to shut up. That hurt her feelings, and she sulked for several hours. Between philosophical discussions, we played games. She beat me handily at Chess and other games requiring computational ability, of course, but she didn’t do nearly as well at Jask or other games requiring creative thinking — though by the time we arrived at the Thaeron system she was getting better. I had a feeling that when we got back, Kaleen was going to put an end to that sentience debate.
As the time to emergence ticked down, I briefed Kaleen. Cord and I had put together an IFF tape using fleet codes, identifying Rimrunner as a fleet auxiliary courier, and announcing the presence of a flag officer on board. “Make sure it’s running, Kaleen,” I fussed, “But stay ready on the inertial drive throttles. If they start shooting, we’ve got to run for it!”
“These instructions have already been given, Captain,” Kaleen replied, “All is in readiness, and both inertial drive engines and gravity compensators are fully functional.” Her tone was flat, formal. Kaleen was back on duty.
“Let's go over your instructions one more time,” I said. “We’ll only get one chance…” My voice trailed off as I realized that I was repeating myself for the dozenth time.
“Yes, Captain. If we are fired upon at the jump point, I apply maximum power to the inertial drives and drive at top speed for another jump point, while computing an emergency jump to the nearest system within jump range.
“If we are not fired upon, we should be escorted to Nemesis. We will have asked to speak with Rear Admiral Jonas, and to the best of our knowledge, he is presently aboard. Fleet Standard Operating Procedures call for us to enter Nemesis ’ landing bay. SOP also calls for fueling and communication connections to be established immediately.
“You will board Nemesis, and engage Admiral Jonas in conversation. As soon as communication connections are complete, I will use the viceroy’s security codes to access and override all onboard computers, and broadcast the Fleet Admiral’s message over every band on every communicator in the system. I will also prevent Nemesis ’ personnel from regaining control of comm and weapons systems.
“You will attempt to escape Nemesis and reboard, and I will run an evasion course to the secondary jump point.” She hesitated. “Captain, I estimate our chances of complete success at less than 25 %, of your survival at less than 32 %, and of my survival at less than 50 %.”
“I know, Kaleen,” I replied, “but we will have bought Cord time he desperately needs. He’ll lose a lot more than one smart ship and a fat old man if Jonas attacks too soon. We have to try. How long ‘til emergence?”
“Ten seconds, Captain. IFF running… 5… 4… 3… 2
… 1…”
We popped into normal space. As we’d expected, Jonas had the jump point picketed. Nobody fired. When our IFF had been confirmed, the destroyer on duty established communication and escorted us in-system, while broadcasting an alert to Nemesis. As we threaded our way through the sown mines over the next day and a half, Jonas’ comm people tried to get me to talk about my mission, but I stood on my new rank and refused to speak with anyone but Jonas. I merely told them that Jonas was to meet me in the landing bay immediately upon my arrival. Jonas himself did not attempt to talk to me.
Kaleen had no problem sliding into Nemesis ’ landing bay. I’d forgotten how huge a dreadnought was! Her landing bay held nearly a hundred fighters, but there was still sufficient room to have accommodated Rimrunner, Valkyrie, and three rim tramps.
Shields normally sealed Nemesis ’ landing bay. The massive armored doors would be closed only in battle, after her fighters had been launched. Rimrunner slid through an opening in the shield, and settled to the deck. It actually took some ten minutes to repressurize the huge bay.
Dreadnoughts are the capital ships of the Fleet. There are only half a dozen of them, each a globe a kilometer in diameter. At full wartime strength, each could carry nearly a hundred Strengl and Wasp fighters, and they bristled with lasers and particle beam weapons. Two of them had defeated an entire fleet during the Horsehead Rebellion.
However, the Horsehead Rebellion had been four hundred years ago. Many of the younger Fleet officers, including me, thought of dreadnoughts as obsolete dinosaurs. They were also horrendously expensive, which is why the newest of them was some two hundred years old. Nemesis, at two hundred fifty, was one of the last ones built. Older officers like Jonas, though, regarded them as living representations of the Fleet’s power. Every time the idea of scrapping the dreadnoughts came up, the old guard rallied around and swore that it would mark the end of the Fleet’s effectiveness.
As I walked down Rimrunner 's ramp, Jonas, a Captain, two Commanders and four armed marines awaited me.
Jonas had put on weight since I’d known him. He’d had a paunch before, but now he was positively obese, and even the minor exercise of walking across the landing bay had left him red-faced and breathless. The Captain, whom I assumed to be Jamin Van-Lyn, CO of Nemesis, was the opposite, thin to the point of emaciation. He also looked very nervous. Obviously, he was intelligent enough to be wary of the presence of a senior officer purportedly from Fleet HQ.
Jonas seemed unimpressed, however. For a moment, a puzzled expression crossed the florid features, and then cleared, to be replaced by obvious anger.
“I know you! Kedron! I knew that name was familiar! You're that jumped-up marine!”
I had to grab the initiative. I hoped Kaleen would hurry. I could see the service techs swarming over Rimrunner. “Atten- shun!” I roared, “Is this how senior officers are greeted on the rim?”
Jonas instinctively snapped to attention along with everyone else, and then forced himself to relax with a disgusted look. I narrowed my eyes, and took on a dangerous tone. “You have a problem with that, Admiral? I’d suggest you count the stars on my shoulder boards, and then count the ones on yours.”
“Bah!” he snorted, “I don’t believe it. This man's an imposter,” he told the marines. “Arrest him!”
I turned to the marines as they began raising their lasers uncertainly. “Arrest him!” I barked. “I have arrest warrants for Rear Admiral Jonas and Captain Van-Lyn for treason and mutiny, issued by Fleet HQ!”
The marines hesitated, while I silently prayed to any god that happened by to get Kaleen working.
“That’s ridiculous!” Jonas sputtered. “This man is obviously a pawn of Cord’s, here to spread dissension. I said, ‘arrest him’!”
The marines were confused. They looked at each other, and at the sergeant commanding the group, who wavered uncertainly. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, every speaker in the bay activated, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Attention all military personnel in the rim sector! This is an urgent message from Fleet Headquarters on Prime for all rim sector Fleet personnel. Stand by for an announcement from CINCFLEET!”
As the announcement began to repeat, Jonas whirled to one of the commanders behind him. “What’s that? Who authorized this broadcast?”
The commander gulped and punched frantically at his keypad. “I.. I don’t know, sir! It’s taken over my keypad, too.”
“Well, stop it!” Jonas growled, then turned to me. “What d’you think you're playing at, Kedron?”
“Sir!” The commander pawed at Jonas’ arm in panic. “I can’t stop it, Admiral! It’s blanketing all frequencies, and it’s being broadcast system-wide using the comm satellites!”
Jonas whirled to confront me just as another, familiar voice began an announcement over the speakers.
“This is Fleet Admiral Chu-Lo, Commander-In-chief, Empire Fleet, addressing all Fleet personnel in the rim sector. Rear Admiral Micah Jonas and Captain Jamin Van-Lyn are relieved of their commands, and are to be considered fugitives from charges of treason and mutiny.” Though we couldn’t see it, I knew that the Fleet Admiral was appearing in vid on every receiver capable of receiving images.
Jonas looked stunned. “It’s a lie!” he shouted, pointing at me. “I’m not the traitor! He is! He works for Cord! He’s doing this!” Admiral Chu-Lo was still talking, but Jonas had heard enough.
I nodded. “I’m doing this,” I confirmed, “But the message is genuine. Maybe you'd better hear all of it before you do anything rash.”
“Arrest him!” Jonas demanded hysterically, “ Shoot him!”
The marines still looked unsure, but one of them began raising his laser, and I decided I’d been brave enough for one day. “Look at this!” I shouted. I tossed the flash grenade I’d held concealed in my hand, and squeezed my eyes shut.
The grenade went off, and the actinic flash penetrated even my closed eyelids. I reopened my eyes, spun, and pounded back up Rimrunner ’s ramp. In the lock, I turned and looked back. The grenade had caught Jonas and the others. They were stumbling around, blinded. Jonas was shouting to the marines to shoot me, but they’d all been looking at the grenade. The lock slammed shut, and I scrambled for the bridge. “ATTENTION!” the Landing bay speakers began, “The landing bay will be depressurized in thirty seconds. Twenty-nine… twenty-eight… twenty-seven…”
As Kaleen continued counting down, service techs were scrambling for the hatches. Jonas’ group had begun getting some vision back, and two of the marines were actually shooting at Rimrunner. Their infantry weapons had no effect on the ship, of course. I suspected they were firing only because Jonas was screaming at them hysterically, and they wanted to be doing something. As Kaleen’s countdown continued, Jonas and the others finally broke, running for the hatches. Discipline be damned, Jonas was the last one to scramble through a hatch, with the countdown at “four.”
Precisely at “zero,” Kaleen disabled two of the shield projectors, and the outrush of atmosphere, assisted by our own maximum acceleration, blasted us through the resulting hole at more than four gees.