Hell or Highwater (Hell's Jesters, #5), page 7
But if Timothy is there, in charge at the end, should this really be the Big One, he will be a Made Man, as that Old Earth saying goes.
“Well, I’ll be more than happy to do my part, sir, for victory.” And Harrison didn’t have to force his words, now.
“Glad to hear it,” Severson replied and seemed to relax a bit. “Really, I am, Nehemiah. Things have grown tense on Nova Terra, as you no doubt know.”
“Forgive me for admitting I’ve tried to keep out of it and remain blissfully unaware.”
They shared a laugh at that.
“There is one little thing extra that I wanted to share with you.” Severson flickered his eyebrows at Harrison and reached into a pocket, drew out a thumb-sized data crystal. “Something I don’t think even your spooks have ferreted out.” He inserted the storage crystal into a port in the desktop and a new globular replaced the star map.
And Harrison rocked back in his chair as though punched. “Buck!”
A young man in a ragged, stained flight suit limped down the aft ramp from a transport in the image. Despite the boniness that comes with poor eating, the jaw shadowed by a half-grown beard, and bruise-colored rings beneath the eyes, Harrison would’ve recognized the lad, anywhere, a reasonable facsimile of his father. Lieutenant Commander Jerold “Buck” Harrison, whose fate till now, left behind on Fury, had been unknowable.
“Prisoner exchange,” Severson said. “To my surprise, the Council has let them continue, despite the savagery of everything. I think it’s to win points with the Assembly, a humanitarian gesture. For the Union’s part, I don’t think they can spare the facilities and personnel on POW’s. Anyway, Jerold was paroled as a part of the most recent batch.”
Instinctively, Harrison reached for the image, then withdrew his hand at the ridiculousness of it. On top of everything else, not having a sense of Buck’s fate had made the near-ruin of his career practically an afterthought. He hadn’t even told Natalie—another of her babies fed to the war—had hoped against hoped he’d resurface. Of his children, Buck’s meanness, at least, gave him an edge, a willingness to power through adversity on anger, alone.
And here he was. My God, all my hopes reborn in one day!
“I...can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am, Timothy,” Harrison said huskily.
Severson waved it off. “I didn’t have much to do with it. The boy’s in decent health, I’m told, and not used too hard. The Union rubes treated him reasonably well, but made him swear an oath not to take up arms against them. The same we hear with all rest.” He snorted. “A few have even refused redeployment on such grounds.”
“You won’t have that kind of problem with Buck,” Harrison said through bared teeth. “He’s a Fleet Man and a Harrison, through-and-through.”
“A man with a purpose, from what I’ve seen,” Severson said and eyed Harrison. “Vengeance.”
Harrison met the stare with a cold smile, made no effort to deny it. “It’s not a surprise that a brother would have an interest in avenging his sister.”
“It wasn’t a criticism. He leads and fights with fire. I could use someone like him. Does he have any interest in Command School? Administration?”
Harrison couldn’t help a smile and a soft laugh, imagining his hot-blooded son working from behind a desk. But part of his humor came, too, from the farcical reality, the lies he’d spun around, not just his superiors, but his family when it came to his daughter, to Kelly.
The traitor, he thought. The Hell’s Jester, who fought us at Fury and probably a dozen other places. The disgrace that I’ve shared with no one, even those I love most. God...what would that do to all us if it became known?
Not for the first time, he wondered if it wouldn’t be better if it was just out, revealed to all, the poison expelled from the wound.
“I think,” Harrison said finally, “that Buck will try to find his way back into a Valkyrie as soon as no one’s watching him too closely.”
Severson frowned a little. “Too bad, if that’s the case.” He stood suddenly and held out his hand. “Well, Admiral, I’ve given you a lot to think on.”
Harrison rushed to meet the gesture, gripped the other man’s palm. “You have, indeed, sir. And, again, thank you. For everything.”
“You’re welcome.” He shook once and released. “Of course, your gratitude will be best shown in your actions. It’s hot place I’ve got picked out for all of us. And yours might be the hottest, Nehemiah.”
Harrison squared his shoulders and smiled darkly. “Well, sir, I’ve long-thought I was due for the hottest place of all, after this is over.”
KELLY ARRIVED EARLY for the squadron leaders’ meeting, but was still surprised to find the briefing room, deep in the bowels of the Sacramento, deserted. She took a seat in the front row, crossed her legs, and leaned back, inhaled the faint scent of bodies that didn’t get washed enough in the cramped confines of a starship on deep space duty. A hologram glowed before her, a map of the Saipan System, rotating slowly.
“Commander Harrison,” a voice said from behind her.
Kelly shot to her feet and spun. “Admiral Avery!” She stiffened her back. “I was expecting Commander Parsons and Captain Langley!”
“They’ll be along, shortly,” the Admiral replied. “But I asked permission to have a word with you in private, first.”
Kelly didn’t quite keep a frown off her face. “Sir?”
Preston Avery stepped fully into the room, the door whisking shut at his back. He was tall enough he nearly had to stoop as he moved between rows of chairs, crossing hands behind his back and gnawing pensively at his lip. As he drew near, the shadow left on his face by the war years seemed to darken. He’d commanded Union forces since the beginning, had been the officer who’d brought a full task force of defectors over to their cause at New Jefferson.
Kelly knew. She’d been there.
“You’ve settled in well with Slasher Squadron,” Avery said, reaching the front row and lowering himself into a seat. He gestured for her to retake hers. “And, by all accounts, you’ve been doing a hell of a job.”
“Thank you, sir,” she replied and sat tentatively.
“I’m told you’ve been arguing with my Intelligence officers,” he said with a grin. “Telling them you don’t think Saipan’s going to be the place, after all.”
She shook her head slowly—that couldn’t be the reason for this visit. But, “These loud and obvious probes have the feel of a diversion, sir. Costly ones, for certain. But they never really try to dig deeper. Harassment and being seen seem to be the goals.”
Avery nodded thoughtfully. “For what it’s worth, I get the same sense.” He met her gaze. “You had a lot of that kind of experience before? With the Jesters?”
Kelly shifted a little in the seat. “I suppose. Guile, distraction, subterfuge. Those are the tools of the Jester, especially so, early on, when it was just us against the galaxy.”
“Us?” Avery’s brows crinkled.
“Them,” she corrected herself, a cool of unease beginning to settle in her blood.
“It’s got to be strange for you,” he said. “Like crossing between worlds. You’ve been on every side, at this point; Alliance, Jester, and Union.”
“It was my understanding the Jesters were just part of the Union, now.”
“Quite.” His smile acquired a little edge. “And, yet, oddly not.”
Kelly didn’t so much as shift in her seat as squirm now. “Something’s changed, now, sir?”
“It has,” he replied. “You know, my people were never really able to get a straight answer out of you, before, about why you left the Jesters so abruptly.”
“I told you.” She insisted. “We—they—had captured my brother. It was ugly on Fury, sir, real ugly. I’d begun to have serious concerns about Jerold’s safety. Some of the others agreed. We decided it was better that I get him out of there.” She paused, caught by a spasm of pain; this part of the story was true, at least. “I knew the Union would take care of him.”
“Same thing you told my Intelligence Chief,” Avery said softly, “and me. But he—and I—both got the impression you left something out.”
Kelly stiffened. “You mean the ship that we flew out? That left without us?”
That would be a stickier story, if Avery was really interested in prying it out. That the Jesters had inadvertently freed a rogue AI into the galaxy—and not just any unregistered sentient intelligence—she’d managed to avoid telling.
But Avery was shaking his head. “No. As curious as that was, our scans showed nothing—and, of course, we had the ship scanned, so spare me the look of outrage.”
Kelly snorted.
“No,” Avery went on, “what perplexes me is why you didn’t go back to them.”
Kelly began a reply, then stopped. “I...” She thought about it—really thought about it, like she hadn’t since she’d made the rushed decision. “I explained this already. I couldn’t go back. Too many would know. I smuggled my brother—an enemy pilot—out from under the Jesters and gave him over to—not the enemy, of course, but not exactly...”
“Allies?” Avery prompted when she left the sentence hanging.
“Of course, you are!” Kelly rushed to answer. “I joined you, didn’t I?”
“And we’ve been lucky to have you,” Avery replied, “as I’ve said.” He leaned back in the seat, folding his hands in his lap and regarding her with a weary, green stare. “But it’s that last part that perplexes me, I suppose; the motivation.”
Kelly nodded, bit her lower lip for a moment. “Maybe...maybe I don’t have a whole lot else.” She blinked, was surprised to have to suppress a rush of tears, at the realization. Blinking again to hold it at bay, she said, “I want to fight!”
“And you do, very well.”
“Isn’t that enough?”
Avery folded his arms before him. “Most of the time. But the question of motivation presents itself to me, now. As I said, things have changed.”
“And I suppose you’re finally going to get around to telling me what?” she asked with a touch of Jester-like defiance.
He nodded. “Admiral Greer is coming back out to Saipan. But he’s not coming to stay. He plans to take over the Sacramento and its escorts.”
“He’s taking your flagship from you, sir?”
Avery chuckled. “It’s not exactly mine. And it’ll be returning. I can transfer my flag to the Rebuke, in the meantime.” He leaned forward in his seat. “Greer wanted a strong enough force, in case he runs into any trouble on his way out, to the Rim. To Shangri-La.”
Kelly felt her mouth dangle open, finally had the presence of mind to clamp it shut again.
“So, you can see, your motivations—your sensitivities—suddenly become a source of concern for me.”
“Why is he going out there?”
Avery shrugged. “He wasn’t exactly clear. It’s always the secrets with him, as you well know.”
Kelly nodded. She did, had gotten thoroughly entangled in the Grand Admiral of the Union Fleet’s machinations more than once.
“And,” Avery was going on, “I thought I’d give you the chance to avoid those, if it was more comfortable for you.”
“What are you saying?”
Avery settled back in his seat again. “The new strike carriers are coming on line, but they’ve got largely-inexperienced starfighter crews. There’s talk of mixing in some seasoned units.” He paused. “I could arrange for the Slashers to be one of those.”
Silence hung in the air as Kelly considered it. Something in her squirmed, a desperate desire to accept it, to flee. Months away from the Jesters had been a freedom of sorts. But she knew she was really running from herself. Tim, she thought, Jerry, Cory...even Red. She wondered if they still lived. And she knew that not having to worry, to know, was its own sort of freedom. Knowing them, caring about them, loving them...it had become a tyranny of sorts, crippling her.
The Slashers were a job. She could handle a job.
“It’s fine,” she replied, surprised as the words came out.
Avery’s eyebrows arched. “You’re certain?”
Kelly swallowed back the knot in her throat. “I am. It’s not like I’ll have to come in contact with them, if I so choose.”
“That’s true,” Avery said. “Though there’s no guarantee you won’t.” He leaned forward again and his voice dropped very low. “With Greer, I fear things rarely go as any of us expect, or even desire.”
“That’s the truth,” Kelly snorted. She governed her expression as she said, finally, “The Slashers will remain with the Sacramento, sir, if that’s the call I’m being asked to make. The Old Girl’s become home to us all, and she’s also the place where we’ve become a team. Be a shame to mess with that, over one person.”
Avery stared at her a very long time, long enough the silence dragged well into uncomfortable territory. Drawing in a breath, at last, he said, “You really have made your choice. I mean about the Jesters. You’ve moved on.”
“I have, Admiral.”
And she hoped that if she kept telling everyone the same thing, she might even start to believe it, herself.
WITH THE BLAST SHUTTERS up, the viewports on either side of the passenger’s compartment of Greer’s executive launch allowed a dizzying view of the eerie whorls and vortices of hyperspace whipping by. Swirling a whisky poured from the tiny bar, Greer stared out into the weirdness. Star sailors occasionally lost themselves in the view—which hinted at alternate existences, times and speeds beyond human ken.
If he was being honest with himself, Greer hated the vision, not because it disoriented; because it reminded him of a single man’s insignificance in the grand scheme of creation.
“The liquor selection is rather more generous than I would have expected, Carson.”
Greer turned to his two passengers with a crooked smile, swirled the whiskey again before taking a sip. “Don’t share this with your committees, but I actually have the good stuff smuggled across the border.” He held up his glass. “Tartan Smooth.”
“And it is,” the first passenger replied, holding up his own glass of the same before taking a drink, himself. He grunted appreciatively and eyed the brown fluid a moment with dark eyes that seemed overly small in a round, reddened face. “You were born on Tartan, weren’t you, Admiral?”
Greer felt his smile tighten instinctively. “Planning on questioning my character on the basis of birthplace, Senator Brand?” The words left with a lilt of humor, but there was no mistaking the menace.
“Not at all,” the round man in a poorly-fitting suit replied, utterly nonplussed, even seeming amused. “But make no mistake; should you decide to accept our offer, there are those who will.”
“Enough, Aiden,” the compartment’s other occupant said. As thin and formal as his companion was not, Senator Sergio Delmonte scowled at his peer. “The Admiral’s certainly no stranger to risk.”
“That would be an understatement,” Greer said with a nod to Delmonte.
“There are many forms of risk,” Brand countered. “And, to that end, are we certain this vessel is secure?”
Greer chuckled. “Senator, you’ll find few places more private than a ship moving through hyperspace. But we don’t have a tremendous amount of time. We’ll reach Theseus in less than two hours, where I’ll board the Herakles, due for Saipan. That’s where I’ll have to drop you gentlemen off.”
“Then let’s get right to it,” Delmonte said and took a fastidious sip of his own drink. “We can’t say for certain what the outcome of the recall will be. Polls are inconclusive and surveying the public sentiment of over a hundred member worlds of star nation that’s only existed thirty-eight months has proved fraught.”
“Which is why I wanted another audit of Cupp’s petition rolls!” Brand snapped. “There’s no way he’s got signatures from every planet!”
Delmonte waved off the comment. “That’s going to just make things look desperate.”
“Are they?” Greer asked. “Have Levine’s fortunes sunk so low?”
The Senators exchanged a glance. “Ansolm’s popularity has sagged since the Battle of Loudon. Losing the planet—even though we got it back—rattled the electorate. And the fighting just goes on and on.”
“What did they think was going to happen?” Greer couldn’t help but snarl.
“They thought we would have won by now,” Brand said quietly.
Greer swirled his drink again, not immediately commenting. What went unsaid was that he hadn’t won them the war yet. Greer pitied Levine in that moment, having to deal with such weaklings, such idiots. Maybe he didn’t want any part of this. But, again, the call of power sounded in his soul, had been growing louder, of late. He took another sip. “So, the recall has a real chance of success?”
“And if it does,” Delmonte said, “Levine is finished. He cannot be on the ballot as an alternate. Cupp won’t run directly. But you can bet one of his cronies will be. And their success will be the end of the Union.”
“Unless,” Brand spoke up, “there is an alternate on the ballot with the will to continue the fight, one popular enough to win at least a plurality of the vote.”
Greer looked at both. “I understand.”
“Do you?” Delmonte leaned forward, gray eyes glowering. “To appear on the ballot requires a public declaration, Admiral. It means forming a campaign team and a fundraising arm” he paused “and it means Levine will know you’ve declared.”
A longer sip of whiskey burned in Greer’s mouth before he let it warm down his throat. “When will we know the recall has been triggered for certain?”
“Cupp’s been crowing he’s got it for a week,” Brand growled. “But it’ll likely be another couple before it’s certified. Maybe another month. Election will follow at the beginning of the next standard year.”
