In the face of such vitriol, the only thing Noritomo Helmer could do was keep a calm front. “Galaxy Commander Hazen.” He pulled himself stiffly to attention. “If you order an attack on Roosevelt Island, under those priorities, I will be forced to demand a Trial of Refusal. My people are better employed elsewhere.”
Malvina’s dark glower piled up like warning storm clouds. “And where do you believe you are better spent, Star Colonel?” Her emphasis was not to be missed. Noritomo was walking a knife’s edge.
“Securing Skye for Clan Jade Falcon. Taking down victories on the battlefield.”
“Then you could bring me a victory over Roosevelt Island’s garrison force.”
“I could.” She still had not ordered him. Not yet. He found that interesting. “I believe it is a wasteful effort, however. If you are committed to such a path, blow it to hell from orbit.”
Far from being insulted, though, Malvina actually smiled. There was no humor in her eyes. “We do think alike, occasionally. That was my first choice, Star Colonel. In fact, if the Emerald Talon had been in position, I would have done so yesterday in hopes of catching Duke Gregory and Campbell at the location.”
He sensed there was more. “And?”
“We detected the infrared signature of an arriving JumpShip at the L3 Lagrange point. I diverted the Talon from high orbit and sent her after the contact.” And there was not much a Nightlord–class WarShip could not handle.
“Republic reinforcements trying to sneak in?”
“Perhaps,” she admitted. “But with the Talon guarding the way, the captain of that relief team is very foolish.”
“Or very confident.”
Reluctantly, Malvina allowed him a sharp nod. Then her eyes narrowed. “I could say the same thing about you, Star Colonel. Three times now, I should have ordered you killed for failing me. Kimball II and Chaffee, and your deliberate perversion of my orders concerning New London. Three times.”
“It is within your power to order me into a Circle of Equals at any time, Galaxy Commander.” He paused. Certainly it was in keeping with her somewhat erratic behavior since losing her brother. Yet the more he clung to the Way of the Clans, the more she tolerated his actions. Well, it was only the two of them now.
“Why have you not?” he asked.
“Would you really like to know?” Her tone suggested not. But she did not give him time to debate. “I believe that it is just what Bec Malthus would like for me to do.” He must have looked alarmed, despite wrestling a mask over his features. “It is nothing personal. I do not think Malthus cares one way or another if you live or die. But it matters to him whether or not I do it.”
Because Galaxy Commander Malthus wanted her isolated by her own hand. It wasn’t enough that Malvina had lost her brother through their competition with each other. Whatever his plans for—with—Malvina Hazen, and they could be big, he wanted her off-balance and ready to strike out at anyone.
She had been right. Noritomo had not wanted to know this. Being privy to the secret struggles taking place between your betters was not conducive to a long and glory-filled career within the Clans.
He swallowed dryly, then forced a calm over himself. “May I assume at this time that you will not be demanding my death, and that I am not being directly ordered to attack what is in my eyes a worthless target?”
“Assumptions are a dangerous thing, Star Colonel. But yes. You may. At this time.”
“What are the Galaxy commander’s orders?”
She waved a hand dismissively over the holographic tableau. “Salvage your toys and equip your warriors. Take down these Stormhammers if you can. But stand ready, Star Colonel. The next time I call for someone’s head, you will deliver it.” Malvina Hazen stepped back, allowing him some personal space in which to finally relax. “Or I will have yours.”
“Bargained well,” Noritomo agreed. “And done.”
The formal words were out of his mouth before he thought better of them. It was tradition, after all, and the Galaxy commander had proposed a bargain that he would have had to live with regardless. Her humorless smile, though, and his memory of her earlier words haunted him.
When the time came for her to call out that name, it might very well be Becket Malthus’. And then how much would his life be worth?
DropShip Himmelstor Over Skye
“We are at plus six and looking at occlusion in one hour,” Eduard Goran reported to the Himmelstor’s bridge.
The radio signal was faint, broken up by the proximity of Skye’s moon, Luna. It helped that Jasek knew the timetable as well as the spacer, even if he didn’t understand all of the intricacies. His breathing was labored under the 1.8– gravity burn that thrust the Excalibur–class DropShip at Skye. He drew in a deep breath, pushing at the bands of steel tightening around his chest.
“Brevet Kaptain Dawkins is about to roll us over for deceleration burn,” he said. Isaiah Dawkins was Goran’s first officer aboard the Himmelstor. Red hair, cropped short, spacer-thin, and far, far too young, the leutnant was eager to prove himself in this difficult planetary insertion. Maybe too eager. “I am beginning to wish you had remained aboard.”
“Your idea,” Goran reminded him, frowning from the screen. He hadn’t liked the idea of remaining aboard the JumpShip.
Jasek swallowed the lump in his throat as the DropShip cut its main drives and swung end for end on attitude jets. Gravity pirouetted sickeningly through the entire operation, and he gripped his chair’s armrests with panicked strength. “Your expertise is needed over there. Bring them in safe, Eduard. Only you can do it.”
“Just be sure to draw a few of that Nightlord’s assault shuttles after you.” The captain scowled, not liking the need to wish assault vessels after his lord and master or after his ship. Maybe both. “If this doesn’t work, we’re going to spend a week or better hanging around in system with our pants down around our ankles.”
“If this doesn’t work,” Jasek said as gravity pressed him once again into the seat, “we’re all going to have our asses hanging out in the wind. You’ve got to come through.”
Goran grunted. “I’ll come through. But then it’s all on the Lyrans.” He paused, checking sidelong off the screen at some incoming readings. “Looking at the monster coming at us, I’m thinking this is going to take a miracle.”
“It’s coming up on Christmas,” Jasek reminded the elder man. “ ’Tis the season of miracles.” He cut the connection with a nod and a difficult motion to the communications officer, then settled back for the bone-bruising run they were about to make for Skye.
Malvina Hazen, he decided, was due an early Christmas present.