The False Admiral (7 page)

She had a combat scanner clipped to her ear, and there was a tiny light on it, strobing almost unnoticeably. It was projecting its readings directly onto her eye. Evagardian technology.

Because she was a negotiator, that would be a standard piece of equipment for her. I wondered why she'd felt the need to put it on. Afraid of the dark? Jumping at shadows? Had she wanted reassurance that she really was alone?

“I've never heard of one of those giving a false positive.”

I knelt at the edge of the trench and pointed my light down. For something to register on Salmagard's scanner, it had to have a certain amount of mass and it had to be alive, or at least move like it was.

Those things were hard to fool; I'd tried.

Salmagard wasn't tense, but she was ready. I could tell from her body language that she took the reading absolutely seriously. Because she was an aristocrat and as a trainee, it went without saying that she had never seen action before. As I looked at her face as she gazed into the trench, it seemed like she was ready for something to happen. Maybe even itching for it. Had they trained that into her, or was it just her style?

I had no reason not to believe her. She wasn't the twitchy type. I hadn't known her long, but I'd seen enough to know that much.

She was trusting me, so I would trust her, too.

“ADMIRAL?”

“Yes, Ensign?”

“What's happening?”

“I don't know.” I got to my feet and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Are you
sure
?”

“Yes, sir.” Salmagard didn't hesitate.

“What made you decide to scan?”

“No lights, sir.”

Dead ship, probably a dead planet, and still looking over her shoulder. Salmagard took her job seriously.

There was someone else here. Someone who didn't want to make contact with us. That raised some interesting questions. I peered down into the maintenance trench.

Maybe now it was time to panic.

What had this mystery individual been doing with the reactor? What
could
he do with a cold reactor? Supposing this guy was our saboteur—or rather,
one
of our saboteurs—what more sabotage was there to do? You don't fix a ship so it'll get lost, then hitch a ride with it. Something else was going on.

I considered the layout of the reactor. Our new friend would need power, and a tech suit with clearance to open those inner hatches, so in theory he still had to be close.

“Lieutenant, go with the private. Ensign, with me. Take the right side, make plenty of noise. If there's someone here, I don't care if he's shy. I want to know who he is and what he's doing on this ship. Check all the way down to the coolant reservoir.”

Deilani wouldn't want to be alone with me; she didn't like Salmagard, but she couldn't distrust her. And Nils was too crucial to our survival to be let out of my sight. “And stay on the main channel,” I added, wagging my finger at the lieutenant.

Deilani gave me a defiant scowl, and Nils looked guilty.

We split up. The ensign and I climbed down into the trench. It was even colder, darker, and tighter than the ship's normal corridors. There were clear plastic shields over the panels, but they were old and filthy, making it difficult to see the machinery behind them. This wasn't the inferiority of Ganraen engineering; this was just neglect.

“Turn on your light,” I told Nils. “We're not being subtle.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Keep your eyes open. If this guy noticed Salmagard and pulled out, he might not be friendly.”

“Sir, how did we get a hostile aboard?” Nils asked, baffled.

“I am more confused than you are right now,” I told him.

There was nothing to suggest we weren't alone. I saw no sign
of a fifth living person on the ship. The freighter was old, and there was plenty of dirt and grime. Tremma's lax approach to maintenance was evident. Like the rest of the ship, panels were missing, and bulkheads were mismatched and shoddily welded. Wiring and pipes were exposed, sometimes hanging low from the ceiling.

Their training would have already exposed the three graduates to plenty of propaganda to strengthen their prejudices about galactic cultures, specifically those found in the Commonwealth. The state of this ship wasn't going to make them look on Ganraens any more kindly, but they had no context for what they were seeing.

Taking a Ganraen ship, making it half Evagardian, then trying to keep it running with a crew of two was a big job. This freighter received the best of care when it was in dry dock in a safe place, but that wasn't often. Just looking at this ship you'd almost think it had been built by an alien species.

But Ganraens were people, the same as everyone else. Though the war hadn't made it any easier for Evagardians to see them that way.

But they did build such ugly, uninviting ships.

“Hard to believe this thing even flies,” the ensign muttered. He was spoiled. “When was the last time any of this was inspected?”

“Never,” I guessed. The metal around us was pitted and corroded.

“Looks like it, sir. There are safety violations everywhere.” Nils was appalled.

“Of course. These cores are twenty years old. The mercury in the ring hasn't been replaced in more than that. In fact, most of the work seals look like they came from Oasis.”

“The station with all the pirates?”

“That's a broad generalization. And there aren't any pirates
there anymore. Anyway, you don't even want to know about the guidance computers.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I'm an admiral. I know everything.”

Nils didn't push. “Who could be here
?
There were only our sleepers in the bay.”

And a strange sight that had been: the sleek Evagardian sleepers in a cramped, rusty little room. No one deserved to wake up to that. I didn't think anyone's illusions survived the Imperial Service forever, but these graduates were having theirs battered a little early in their careers.

Still, it could've been worse.

“It's only a short jump series to Payne Station. It's not like a conscious passenger would lose a lot of time, even on a ship this slow. It wouldn't be strange at all if Tremma had added a third man to his team.”

“Team? You mean ‘crew,' sir.”

I winced. That was a slip. Nils was giving me a look, but he didn't want to press.

“It wouldn't surprise me if he added another man, or even a couple of men. What I don't understand is why they would avoid us,” I told him.

“Unless they had something to do with what happened in that airlock,” Deilani said over the com.

“Why bother running, though? Where can they go? They can't leave the ship. Even if there's someone here who's up to no good, he's in the same fix we are. Rescue
will
come, they'll have scanners, and everyone will be accounted for. Avoiding us is pointless,” I said.

“Is it? We still don't know where we are,” Nils said. “This
planet could be anywhere. There could be a settlement a kilometer away for all we know.”

“True,” I admitted. “But I'm pretty well traveled, and I've never seen anything like what's outside this ship right now.”

“It's a big galaxy,” Deilani said. “Nobody could keep track of the climates of every world on record.”

“Agreed. But it's not just the mist—it's the gravity. I've never felt this before. You aren't used to the difference because Evagardian worlds all use gravity cores to stay consistent with Old Earth force. But once you get out a bit, you'll get a feel for the differences. Trust me.”

“Oh, we do,” Deilani snarled.

I decided to change the subject. “You two have anything?”

“No signs, no readings,” Salmagard reported. “Where are you?”

“We just cleared the trench on the second core.”

I looked up at the high ceiling. There had once been catwalks overhead, but they hadn't survived the repurposing of the ship. One less thing to check. I pointed my light back into the trench. I'd have sworn something moved, but now there was nothing. My brain chemistry was playing tricks. I wished we had enough power for more lights.

“Sir?” Nils was looking at me intently. He was following me blindly, but was still keenly sensitive to my mood. As long as I acted like the situation was under control, he'd hold together.

“Which system are you from, Ensign?”

“Rothgard, sir.”

“Which planet?”

“Bellegard.”

“Nice,” I said. Bellegard was known for white sandy beaches and pretty greenish waves. Of course, those picturesque islands
were only one corner of that world, but it was the corner they always seemed keenest to show off.

I'd never been there.

“You'll have a good story for when you get back, about how you discovered a new planet. Maybe they'll name this rock after you.” Well, it couldn't actually be a new planet if it had taken us only two weeks to get here. Why couldn't I
place
this place? I tapped my foot on the deck a couple of times, listening to the sound echo through the dead ship.

I had never felt this gravity before. I was sure of it.

If the navigational computers had been tampered with, and we'd boosted longer than we intended, we could theoretically be well into unregulated space. Not exactly unexplored space, but territory that was known only to the most daring surveyors. That wasn't a comforting thought.

“Watch your step, ma'am. There's something on the floor here,” Salmagard said to Deilani.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Looks like a maintenance kit. Someone's been through here,” she said, directing the words at me.

“Not necessarily—it could just be Tremma's style. He's not hung up on details,” I told her.

“I noticed,” Salmagard replied. There it was: that flash of disdain in her voice. I smiled. She could trade her class for the uniform, but she couldn't turn it off completely. What a fascinating girl. “We've cleared the third core. Moving into the cylinder. Visibility low,” she added.

“There's dry ice under that mesh. Just keep your suit powered and dial up your filtration.”

“Do we need to switch to O
2
?” Deilani asked.

“It should be safe, but watch your monitor just in case. You picking anything up, Private?”

“Negative.”

“Admiral?” The way Deilani said it made me wish she'd call me something else.

“What is it, Lieutenant?”

“The ladder here is heavily damaged. It doesn't look recent.”

“Just make peace with the fact that this ship isn't up to code. Blame it on Ganraen engineering.”

“This has nothing to do with engineering—this is some kind of combat damage.”

I sighed. Couldn't these three take a hint and just
stop noticing things
? For their own sake as much as mine. How could I convince them that they were happier just getting on with their lives?

I didn't think I could.

“Why would there be a fight on a Ganraen freighter run by the Imperial Service, Admiral?” Deilani asked, and I could picture her fingers opening and closing again, practicing for my neck.

“No one said the Service ran this ship,” I pointed out.

“So Captain Tremma was just the owner? Just a guy with a commercial freighter? You're saying the academies handed our sleepers to some freelance courier?”

She had a point. That would never happen.

“Er,” I said.

“Go on, Admiral. Don't be shy.”

“You're right. That doesn't seem very likely, does it?”

“Who did this?” I could hear her over the com, tapping on the metal.

“Not a clue,” I replied, meaning it. I hadn't the faintest idea what had happened to the damn ladder. I could
guess
, but there was a high probability that with Tremma dead, no one would ever know. There was a pause.

“We'll have to find another way up, ma'am,” Salmagard said to Deilani.

I still hadn't seen anything to suggest we weren't alone.

Something about this didn't feel right. Something about
all
of it didn't feel right. There was strangeness I could explain, even with the trainees' wild conspiracy theories, and then there was this. I'd have to be careful not to mention that to Deilani.

There was a sharp intake of breath over the com. “What is it?” I looked up at the paneled ceiling. Deilani and Salmagard had to be above us.

“Sir, there's a hatch up here to the outer corridor—we are completely depressurized on the other side.”

“What?”

“There must be some kind of hull breach.”

I swore, amazed. We hadn't even
suspected
a breach.

This was life without computers. We'd been completely oblivious.

“Better check it out,” I said.

“Sir, there is some electronic interference.”

It took a moment for Salmagard's words to sink in. “To your suit or your scanner?”

“Scanner, sir.”

“But there's no
power
,” I said. “What could interfere with a combat scanner? Apart from, like, military jammers?”

“I don't know, sir.” Salmagard sounded calm. That was
reassuring, though it wasn't a good sign that I was looking to the trainees for reassurance.

“Check it out. We're going to check the hatch here; if it's sealed, then we know our friend went your way.”

“Into the depressurized zone?” Deilani asked, baffled.

“No other option. The ducts were all intact, but if he's got a tech suit and some tools he could be anywhere. Even if there was power, do you think any of the safety locks work down here?”

“Fair enough.”

“Step it up,” I told the ensign, and we hurried forward. We had to be sure we were clear on our end, even if the odds of finding anything were slim.

“Hard to see in this,” Deilani grumbled over the com, though she sounded more curious than annoyed.

“In what?”

“This mist.”

“Can you get a composition on it?” That could potentially tell us where we were.

“With a med scanner?” The contempt in her voice was thick.

“Just asking.”

Deilani gasped. “Oh, Empress,” she breathed.

I straightened up, focusing on the com. I'd heard her angry, but I'd never heard her like this.

“What is it?”

“Uh—substantial structural damage. The hull is . . . very breached.”

“How bad?”

“It looks like something just ripped us open.” She sounded as if she didn't believe what she was seeing. She wasn't thinking; she
was completely absorbed in what she was seeing, and I heard a hint of her accent creep through.

Maybe that was why Deilani didn't like Salmagard; she was from Cohengard. She'd done a nice job hiding it, but now that I knew where she grew up, it was easy to understand where she was coming from.

Salmagard came from a privileged background. Deilani came from the one city in the entire Empire where people were seriously disadvantaged. I should've picked up on it sooner, but she'd been doing a passable Marragardian accent earlier. “There's something here—not rock. Tremendously dense material. Not much of it, though. Admiral, we'll need to decon. In fact, I'm not sure about this door,” Deilani went on.