Warhorse

“They can’t trigger them,” Ke

She broke off as, on the screen, the missile flares abruptly and simultaneously vanished. “Marlowe?” Roman snapped.

“It broke them up,” Marlowe murmured, a horrified awe in his voice. “Just… tore them to shreds.”

And if there had been any doubt left, it was gone now. The shark knew exactly what it was up against… and exactly how to fight back.

And Lekander knew it. On the screen the three ships were veering away, blasting lateral to the shark’s momentum. Roman held his breath—“Atlantis to Amity,”

Lekander’s icy voice came suddenly, making him jump. “We track some vultures heading your way; better get out while you can.”

“Never mind us—get yourselves out,” Roman retorted. “You can’t possibly defeat the shark now.”

“We’d figured that out, thank you,” Lekander growled. “Get to the 66802 system—we’ll be there when we can. Atlantis out.”

The console pinged its loss of the laser signal. “Idiots,” Ferrol bit out. “What the hell are they waiting for?”

“They can’t leave,” Ke

Ferrol stared at her, not saying anything. But then, Roman thought numbly, there really wasn’t anything else to say.

On the screen the ships were still driving laterally, their accelerations up to eight gees. They can do it, Roman told himself, trying hard to believe it. Just a few more minutes.

And as he watched, the Starseeker faltered in its rush outward. Faltered, slowed to a stop… and began to fall back.

“Captain?” Marlowe said hesitantly. “I’m picking up those vultures now. They’ll be in position to set up an optical net in maybe fifteen minutes.”

Roman nodded. Of course the vultures would come for them; it was a pattern of nature out here, too inevitable for him to even feel anger about it. “Ke

Ferrol… arm the torpedo. Target toward the vultures, close-in blast—I don’t want them seeing which direction Sleipnir is pointing when we Jump.”

A muscle in Ferrol’s cheek twitched. “Understood, Captain,” he said, and turned to his task. A moment later, “Torpedo armed and ready, sir.”

“Fire.”

Roman watched the flare streak off toward the approaching vultures. Then, with an effort, he turned his attention back to the scope screen.

The Starseeker was still falling back toward the shark. Falling through the vulture shield… and all at once, the ship seemed to expand and vanish. Its attention no longer divided, the shark began accelerating again; and at an unheard-of ten gees set off in pursuit of the Jnana. “Handler reports Sleipnir in position, Captain,”

Ke

“Set torpedo for five-second detonation.” Roman took a deep breath. To run away now… but there was absolutely nothing they could do. “Jump.”

The NCL 66802 system was just under two light-years away; two and a half days by Mitsuushi. Its collective fingers crossed, Amity settled down to wait.

Ten days later, neither the Jnana nor the Atlantis had joined them.

Chapter 24

“As executive officer,” Ferrol said, working hard to keep his voice calm and formal, “one of my jobs is to inform the captain whenever I believe his course of action to be ill-advised or detrimental to the ship, the crew, or the best interests of the Cordonale. Therefore—”

“You’d like to know why we’re still sitting out here?” Roman interrupted mildly.

“Waiting for a task force that’s ten days overdue on a two-day trip?”

Ferrol clenched his teeth. “Yes, sir, I do,” he said firmly. The captain had evaded this meeting for two whole days now, and Ferrol was damned if Roman was going to undercut his arguments with that agreeable/civilized act of his. “Particularly when our delay prevents the Starforce from receiving information vital to the security of the Cordonale. Standing orders on that—”

“I take it, then, that you don’t think there could still be survivors?”

Ferrol locked eyes with him. “Do you?” he asked bluntly.

Roman’s expression didn’t change. “There’s always a chance,” he pointed out calmly. “A damaged ship able to make a short Mitsuushi hop could be a few lighthours out from 9862 making repairs. How could we go off and abandon them?”

“We could send a ship back to wait for them,” Ferrol told him. “Or drop our report and records at Solomon and then come back ourselves.”

Roman’s eyebrows went up. “And how would we do that? As soon as we reach the Cordonale, Rrin-saa and the Tampies will be taking Sleipnir back home.”

Ferrol snorted. “And that’s what this is really all about, isn’t it? You’re mad at the Starforce for their little verbal sleight of hand; and in return you’re going to make them sweat a little.”

Roman regarded him thoughtfully. “Tell me something, Commander. Back in the

9862 system, just before the second shark appeared, you said the Tampies’ anger over being lied to was nothing more than emotional manipulation. Do you really believe that?”

Ferrol glared; but the reflexive answer caught in his throat. He had believed it at the time, certainly—it fit all too well with the standard Tampy pattern of shifting blame and guilt wherever possible. But now, with ten days of extra reflection behind him, the whole situation had muddied considerably. It still seemed slightly incredible to him that the Admiralty might have deliberately set up their shark hunt in such a way as to bring Amity down along the way… and yet, he couldn’t shake from his mind that final, self-satisfied expression on the Senator’s face. The expression, and the veiled warning that the Amity project would soon be ending…

And as matters stood now, the Senate could lay the blame for Amity’s cancellation squarely on the Tampies’ shoulders. And most of the Cordonale would buy it.

“I think there was manipulation going on somewhere,” he conceded reluctantly.

“I’m not sure anymore which end of it the Tampies were on.”

He braced himself for the inevitable sly smile or lift of eyebrows; to his intense relief Roman passed up the obvious comments on Ferrol’s change of attitude. “All right,” the captain said instead. “Let’s assume, then, at least for the moment, that Rrin-saa’s reaction was a true indication of how deeply he and the other Tampies felt about being along on the shark hunt. We already know how strongly they feel these things—their giving up of Quentin showed that much.”

Or else, Ferrol thought sourly, it showed they’d realized such a deep and early trauma would make the calf useless, anyway. “Fine,” he said aloud. “Let’s assume that. So what’s your point?”

Roman’s face remained calm… but abruptly Ferrol noticed the hardness lying beneath the surface. “My point,” the captain said quietly, “is that all of that was on the record, accessible to anyone who wanted to scuttle Amity. I think the verbal sleight of hand, as you put it, was done deliberately, and for that purpose.”

Ferrol took a careful breath. “There is, of course, no way to prove it.”

“I know. I was thinking more along the lines of offering the Tampies some sort of compensation.”

Ferrol blinked. It wasn’t what he’d been expecting. “What sort of compensation?”

Roman shrugged, deliberately casual. “You’ve lived with them for the past year.

What could we on the Amity offer that they might be willing to accept?”

Ferrol frowned at him… and then he got it. “You mean a calf?”