Generation Warriors by Anne McCaffrey, Elizabeth Moon Page A
Authors: Anne McCaffrey, Elizabeth Moon
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rose, recognizing that for what it was, and he sighed again.
"Captain, I swear to you..."
"Don't bother." Sassinak turned away, briefly, to glance at the hardcopy he offered her, then met his dark eyes squarely. "If you don't know what I'm talking about, then you don't—but I cannot ignore anything like that. It nearly cost me my life twenty years ago."
"I'm sorry. Truly sorry. But just as you received unwelcome orders a short while ago, I have now received unwelcome orders to leave this ship—unwelcome and even stranger than yours."
"Oh? And where are you supposed to go?" She saw Dupaynil wince at the unbending ice in that tone. She could care less, as long as she rid herself of a potential traitor.
"To the Seti—to the Sek of Fomalhaut, in fact. One of my past sins come to haunt me, I suppose. Apparently there's some kind of diplomatic problem with the new human ambassador to the High Court, and I'm supposed to know someone who might be of assistance."
"But you can't," Sassinak said sharply. "You can't leave: we're all under orders to proceed to Federation Central, you most of all. You were in on all of it; your testimony..."
"Can be recorded, and will have to be. I'm sorry. Truly sorry, as I said, but these orders take precedence. Have to." His finger tapped the authorizing seals and codes; in the labyrinthine regulations of Fleet and FSP, the IG's signature outweighed even the Judge Advocate General's. "Besides, I might still be of use to you. The Thek hinted that the Seti were involved, but they had no solid data, or none they passed to us. That's something I can look into, with my contacts in the Seti diplomatic subculture. They estimate the assignment proper will take me only about six standard months; I can be back in time to share what I've learned, and testify if called."
Sassinak heaved a dramatic sigh. "Well. I suppose, if you have to, you have to. And maybe you can find something useful, although the Seti are the least likeable bunch of bullies I've ever met."
"They do require careful handling," Dupaynil murmured, almost demurely.
Sassinak wondered what he was up to now. She did not trust him one hairsbreadth. "Very well. Where are we supposed to drop you off?"
"It says your orders will be in shortly and I'm to leave at the next transfer point. Wherever that is."
"Somebody's entirely too clever," Sassinak growled. She hoped she hadn't been clever enough to trip herself with this—but so far Dupaynil seemed convinced. Just then the junior com officer tapped timidly on her door, and offered a hardcopy of her second faked IFTL message, the one telling her to drop out of FTL drive, and proceed to the nearest Fleet station. The nearest Fleet station was a resupply center with only monthly tanker traffic and the occasional escort or patrol craft dropping by. She remembered it well, from her one previous visit fifteen years before. She showed Dupaynil the orders.
"Supply Center 64: says there's an escort in dock. You'll take that, I imagine?" At his nod, she said, "I'll expect you back at 1500, to give your deposition; we'll have the equipment set up by then, and an ETA for the supply center."
The rest of that day Sassinak hardly dared look at Ford; she would have burst out laughing. Dupaynil came back, gave his testimony while she asked every question she could think of before she sent him off to pack his gear.
They popped out of FTL space within a few hours of the supply center. Sassinak had already dispatched messages to it and the escort vessel (whose pilot had been planning an unauthorized three-day party with the supply center's crew). Escorts, not large enough to house a Ssli, were out of the IFTL links. Once aboard, Dupaynil would have only sublight ways of checking up on his orders.
Docking the Zaid-Dayan at the supply station was simple: the station had equipment to handle large transports of all shapes, and the small escort took up only a minute space at the far end of the station. Sassinak
"Captain, I swear to you..."
"Don't bother." Sassinak turned away, briefly, to glance at the hardcopy he offered her, then met his dark eyes squarely. "If you don't know what I'm talking about, then you don't—but I cannot ignore anything like that. It nearly cost me my life twenty years ago."
"I'm sorry. Truly sorry. But just as you received unwelcome orders a short while ago, I have now received unwelcome orders to leave this ship—unwelcome and even stranger than yours."
"Oh? And where are you supposed to go?" She saw Dupaynil wince at the unbending ice in that tone. She could care less, as long as she rid herself of a potential traitor.
"To the Seti—to the Sek of Fomalhaut, in fact. One of my past sins come to haunt me, I suppose. Apparently there's some kind of diplomatic problem with the new human ambassador to the High Court, and I'm supposed to know someone who might be of assistance."
"But you can't," Sassinak said sharply. "You can't leave: we're all under orders to proceed to Federation Central, you most of all. You were in on all of it; your testimony..."
"Can be recorded, and will have to be. I'm sorry. Truly sorry, as I said, but these orders take precedence. Have to." His finger tapped the authorizing seals and codes; in the labyrinthine regulations of Fleet and FSP, the IG's signature outweighed even the Judge Advocate General's. "Besides, I might still be of use to you. The Thek hinted that the Seti were involved, but they had no solid data, or none they passed to us. That's something I can look into, with my contacts in the Seti diplomatic subculture. They estimate the assignment proper will take me only about six standard months; I can be back in time to share what I've learned, and testify if called."
Sassinak heaved a dramatic sigh. "Well. I suppose, if you have to, you have to. And maybe you can find something useful, although the Seti are the least likeable bunch of bullies I've ever met."
"They do require careful handling," Dupaynil murmured, almost demurely.
Sassinak wondered what he was up to now. She did not trust him one hairsbreadth. "Very well. Where are we supposed to drop you off?"
"It says your orders will be in shortly and I'm to leave at the next transfer point. Wherever that is."
"Somebody's entirely too clever," Sassinak growled. She hoped she hadn't been clever enough to trip herself with this—but so far Dupaynil seemed convinced. Just then the junior com officer tapped timidly on her door, and offered a hardcopy of her second faked IFTL message, the one telling her to drop out of FTL drive, and proceed to the nearest Fleet station. The nearest Fleet station was a resupply center with only monthly tanker traffic and the occasional escort or patrol craft dropping by. She remembered it well, from her one previous visit fifteen years before. She showed Dupaynil the orders.
"Supply Center 64: says there's an escort in dock. You'll take that, I imagine?" At his nod, she said, "I'll expect you back at 1500, to give your deposition; we'll have the equipment set up by then, and an ETA for the supply center."
The rest of that day Sassinak hardly dared look at Ford; she would have burst out laughing. Dupaynil came back, gave his testimony while she asked every question she could think of before she sent him off to pack his gear.
They popped out of FTL space within a few hours of the supply center. Sassinak had already dispatched messages to it and the escort vessel (whose pilot had been planning an unauthorized three-day party with the supply center's crew). Escorts, not large enough to house a Ssli, were out of the IFTL links. Once aboard, Dupaynil would have only sublight ways of checking up on his orders.
Docking the Zaid-Dayan at the supply station was simple: the station had equipment to handle large transports of all shapes, and the small escort took up only a minute space at the far end of the station. Sassinak
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