Book 3 - Star's End by Glen Cook Page A

too.”
    “I didn’t guess. I had inside
information.”
    “Whatever. That’s where Storm came up with the
Sangaree data. Raidships hit the harvestfleet there. They came out
on the short end. The point is, the Seiners were sure they could
pull it off. The battering the Sangaree gave them is what kept them
from trying.”
    “How soon will those boys be done de-briefing? I want to
see them.”
    Silence hit that room like a cat jumping on a mouse. It
stretched till it became an embarrassment.
    “Well?”
    “Uh . . . ”
    “Not one of your more endearing traits, Akido. I
don’t need protecting. Out with it. Who got hurt? How bad was
it?”
    “It’s not that. Sir, they didn’t come
back.”
    “They’re dead? How did they? . . . ”
    “They’re alive. But they crossed over.”
    “They what?”
    “Remember, McClennon was programed for it.”
    “I know that. It was my idea. But he wasn’t supposed
to make a career out of it. He didn’t de-program? What the
hell was wrong with Storm? What’s his story? Why didn’t
he bring Thomas out?”
    “We’re working on it, sir. Interrogating returnees.
When we can lay hands on them. They scattered after they hit
Carson’s, before we knew we had a problem. Near as we can
tell, Storm stayed behind because he didn’t want to leave
McClennon there alone. The programming must have broken down.
McClennon asked to stay. They kept Storm from bringing him
out.”
    “I see. That would be like Mouse. Don’t leave your
wounded behind. He’s too much like his father. I knew Gneaus
Storm. When you get to the bottom line, it was his sense of honor
that got him killed. Well, I’ve got my honor too, even if
it’s a little discolored around the edges. I don’t
leave my wounded behind either. Akido, I want those boys brought
out.”
    Jones snorted.
    “Charles? What’s biting your ass?”
    “I was just thinking that anybody who cared as much about
his troops as you put on wouldn’t have thrown them back in
the furnace before they’d cooled off from The Broken Wings.
And you hit them with that one before they’d cooled off
from . . . ”
    “Hey! Charlie, it’s my conscience. I’m the one
who’s got to live with it.”
    “Storm could handle it. He didn’t get the deep
Psych-briefings. But McClennon . . . You
probably overloaded the poor bastard. He was goofy at his best
times.”
    “That’s enough. Right now, right here, we finish
crying about Storm and McClennon. That understood? We start
figuring out how to get them back. And in our spare time we worry
about the Four slash Six. And come bedtime, if you get tempted to
waste time sleeping, start figuring how we’re going to get a
hammerlock on the Starfishers before they get their hands on
Stars’ End.”
    “Sir?” Namaguchi inquired.
    “One of you clowns told me they were sure they could get
in. You know what happens if they do?”
    “Sir?”
    “We bend over and kiss our asses good-bye. Because
we’re dead. We can hope, but we’ll still be in the line
to the showers.”
    “I don’t follow your reasoning this time.”
    “You’re not looking at the whole picture, that’s
why. The gestalt, if that’s the right word. Look. If they get
those weapons before we do, they can tell us to go pound sand and
make it stick. We won’t get control of ambergris production,
meaning the Fleet will have to do without adequate instel
communications, meaning its chances against those centerward things
will go down to zit. They aren’t your candy-ass Ulantonids,
planning to give us a fair shake after they whip us.”
    “On the other hand,” Namaguchi suggested, “if
we get the Fishers under the gun in time, we’ll not only be
able to equip the Fleet, we’ll have the potential of the
Stars’ End weaponry. Assuming it’s
adaptable.”
    “There,” Beckhart told the others. “You see
why Akido is the Crown Prince around here. You take a stick and
whack on him long enough and he actually starts