going to be nothing like the simulators. They were in a goddamned civilian shuttle. “Life pods are belowdecks here, through cargo,” he told her. “Make sure access is clear.” The Farosians wanted him, alive or dead. He wasn't sure which he'd prefer, if they intended to trade him to Tage.
Captain Ellis tapped his arm, then passed the archiver back to him. “How many pods?” he asked her. He thought six, but he could be wrong.
“Six plus the bridge pod.”
He nodded. “Martoni makes one,” he told Rya. “Get five other pod captains, get them down there and familiar with pod operation.”
Alarm flashed briefly in her eyes.
C'mon, you're a Bennton. Hang in there for me, Rebel.
Then it was gone. He saw her center herself, drop into working mode.
Good girl. Do Dad and Uncle Philip proud.
Uncle Philip? Maybe not. And this was not the time to argue with his libido over that.
“Yes, sir.” She turned, grabbing for Martoni's arm, ducking her head down as she relayed Philip's orders.
“I've got the Gritter. We've got two patrol ships,” Ellis reminded him when he glanced down at the flashing icons on her console.
“We also have a ship full of fresh-out-of-the-academy inexperienced kids, for the most part. And this is not an official Fleet transport.” He met her gaze levelly. “I have no doubt that someday I'll go out in a blaze of glory, but today's not the day.”
“You and me both,” she quipped, and Philip decided if they lived through this, he'd buy her a drink. Maybe three. He liked her confidence, her sassy attitude, and, hell, what were a few years or so? She was an attractive woman—who illegally loaded her ship with a Gritter cannon, probably tucked neatly under the decking, disguised as an enviro booster. He liked that.
“My husband would kill me if I died,” she added wryly.
Stow that thought.
But it also added one. He'd do everything he could to get her back to her husband. “Send out a broad hail,” he said. “Let's see if that Infiltrator has anything to say.”
He did not want to become the Farosians’ captive and a bargaining chip with Tage. But he didn't want sixty innocent people to die for him either. Enough had already. And he had a promise to Cory to keep.
IMPERIAL SECURITY BULLETIN 71993-X7G:
Encryption Level Aldan 1/Top Secret
Immediate Action Required:
Reports out of Kirro Station confirm attempts were made to kidnap rebel leader Philip Guthrie, allegedly by Farosian terrorists. Guthrie was sighted boarding a shuttle on station, still alive. Operatives on Seth are now alerted to his arrival. Command Prime repeats that all restrictions are lifted on civilian casualties, unless said actions in any way aid the Farosians. This bulletin self-destructs in thirty seconds.
It took three minutes for the Infiltrator to respond to the shuttle's hail, during which time Philip once more ran through his options and best strategies. In his twenty years with Fleet, he'd never been in exactly this situation: a civilian ship, a military threat.
It was the word civilian that forced a great deal of soul-searching thought. No one on board had yet pledged to risk their life for some abstract ideal known as the Alliance. Except him.
“Kirro Path Shuttle, this is the Infiltrator. Put Guthrie on.”
He recognized the Dafirian drawl of Nayla Dalby's voice immediately. He took the spare comm headset and slipped it on, twirling the microphone up. “Commander Dalby. Tell me this isn't a meeting we're both going to regret.”
A sharp bark of laughter. “Guthrie, you old bastard. I'm so going to enjoy this. How does it feel to be on the losing side?”
“I wouldn't know,” he shot back. “You're the one sucking up to Tage.”
“Dirty words, rich boy. Traveling in a piece-of-shit shuttle and not an admiral's pinnace. Shame.”
“Fuck you,” he heard Ellis intone under her breath. He'd surmised the shuttle company and this shuttle were hers. That confirmed
Captain Ellis tapped his arm, then passed the archiver back to him. “How many pods?” he asked her. He thought six, but he could be wrong.
“Six plus the bridge pod.”
He nodded. “Martoni makes one,” he told Rya. “Get five other pod captains, get them down there and familiar with pod operation.”
Alarm flashed briefly in her eyes.
C'mon, you're a Bennton. Hang in there for me, Rebel.
Then it was gone. He saw her center herself, drop into working mode.
Good girl. Do Dad and Uncle Philip proud.
Uncle Philip? Maybe not. And this was not the time to argue with his libido over that.
“Yes, sir.” She turned, grabbing for Martoni's arm, ducking her head down as she relayed Philip's orders.
“I've got the Gritter. We've got two patrol ships,” Ellis reminded him when he glanced down at the flashing icons on her console.
“We also have a ship full of fresh-out-of-the-academy inexperienced kids, for the most part. And this is not an official Fleet transport.” He met her gaze levelly. “I have no doubt that someday I'll go out in a blaze of glory, but today's not the day.”
“You and me both,” she quipped, and Philip decided if they lived through this, he'd buy her a drink. Maybe three. He liked her confidence, her sassy attitude, and, hell, what were a few years or so? She was an attractive woman—who illegally loaded her ship with a Gritter cannon, probably tucked neatly under the decking, disguised as an enviro booster. He liked that.
“My husband would kill me if I died,” she added wryly.
Stow that thought.
But it also added one. He'd do everything he could to get her back to her husband. “Send out a broad hail,” he said. “Let's see if that Infiltrator has anything to say.”
He did not want to become the Farosians’ captive and a bargaining chip with Tage. But he didn't want sixty innocent people to die for him either. Enough had already. And he had a promise to Cory to keep.
IMPERIAL SECURITY BULLETIN 71993-X7G:
Encryption Level Aldan 1/Top Secret
Immediate Action Required:
Reports out of Kirro Station confirm attempts were made to kidnap rebel leader Philip Guthrie, allegedly by Farosian terrorists. Guthrie was sighted boarding a shuttle on station, still alive. Operatives on Seth are now alerted to his arrival. Command Prime repeats that all restrictions are lifted on civilian casualties, unless said actions in any way aid the Farosians. This bulletin self-destructs in thirty seconds.
It took three minutes for the Infiltrator to respond to the shuttle's hail, during which time Philip once more ran through his options and best strategies. In his twenty years with Fleet, he'd never been in exactly this situation: a civilian ship, a military threat.
It was the word civilian that forced a great deal of soul-searching thought. No one on board had yet pledged to risk their life for some abstract ideal known as the Alliance. Except him.
“Kirro Path Shuttle, this is the Infiltrator. Put Guthrie on.”
He recognized the Dafirian drawl of Nayla Dalby's voice immediately. He took the spare comm headset and slipped it on, twirling the microphone up. “Commander Dalby. Tell me this isn't a meeting we're both going to regret.”
A sharp bark of laughter. “Guthrie, you old bastard. I'm so going to enjoy this. How does it feel to be on the losing side?”
“I wouldn't know,” he shot back. “You're the one sucking up to Tage.”
“Dirty words, rich boy. Traveling in a piece-of-shit shuttle and not an admiral's pinnace. Shame.”
“Fuck you,” he heard Ellis intone under her breath. He'd surmised the shuttle company and this shuttle were hers. That confirmed
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