Timothy Zahn - Conquerors' Legacy

"Or perhaps they're looking for someone to make an alliance with," Samurai suggested, his voice dark. "The Yycromae have been waiting for years for just this sort of chance at us."

"You could be right," Schweighofer agreed. "Last I heard all the Pacification forces had been withdrawn from Yycroman space. It'd be a perfect time for a backroom deal."

"Have you sent word to Commodore Montgomery yet?" Bokamba asked.

Schweighofer shook his head. "The fleet's already on its way. Apparently still trying to shake the wrinkles out of the Wolf Pack. Should be here anytime."

"Commander Schweighofer?" Irdani called, pushing off the wall and floating back toward his command chair. "Wolf Pack's about to mesh in."

"Yes, sir," Schweighofer said, moving out of the captain's way.

"Put it on main," Irdani ordered as he maneuvered himself into the seat.

The view shifted, pointing now toward the spot in space where the sensor officer was predicting the Wolf Pack would mesh in. There was a movement to Quinn's right, and he turned to see Dreamer float up beside him. "I don't know about you, Maestro," she said quietly, gazing at the display, "but this Wolf Pack thing has got to be the loopiest idea Command's ever come up with."

"It's a perfectly reasonable solution to the ship-dispersal problem," Bokamba disagreed from Quinn's other side. "You can't launch a successful blitz attack when microsecond differences in mesh-in time and vector scatter your fleet across thousands of square kilometers of space."

"Oh, I agree that's a problem," Dreamer said. "I just think the Wolf Pack is a loopy way to solve it."

And with a flicker of light, there it was. "The Wolf Pack," someone murmured, "has landed."

Quinn gazed at the display. At the multikilometer-long, multikilometer-wide framework of metal and composite and empty space, looking more like a collection of giant window frames welded together than like anything that had any business being part of a war fleet.

And at the other fourteen warships of the Trafalgar fleet, each nestled snugly inside one of the frames. Like one big, close-knit family, all set to mesh together.

Dreamer thought it was loopy. Bokamba thought it was brilliant. Personally, Quinn thought they were both right.

"Signal the Trafalgar," Irdani ordered his comm officer. "Do not disengage fleet from Wolf Pack; repeat, do not disengage fleet from Wolf Pack."

Quinn gazed at the monstrosity filling the display, wondering if the message would get to Montgomery before the ships started snapping their tether lines and breaking out above and beneath the framework. So far the disengagement procedure had been mired in a tangle of minor problems, which was why Montgomery still had the fleet flying back and forth practicing it. He hoped this wouldn't be the time they finally got it right....

"Pelican, this is Montgomery," the commodore's voice boomed irritably from the bridge speaker. "Schweighofer?"

"Here, Commodore," Schweighofer said. "Captain Irdani's people have just picked up the wake-trail of what appears to be a Zhirrzh fleet."

There was a long pause. "Confirmed," Montgomery's voice acknowledged, the irritation gone. "We read Phormbi as their probable target."

"That was our projection, too, sir," Schweighofer said. "I thought you'd want to know about this before you disengaged the fleet from the Wolf Pack. In case you wanted to check it out."

"I would, and we will," Montgomery rumbled. "Captain Irdani?"

"Sir?"

"How fast can you get the Pelican to its slot in the Wolf Pack?" Montgomery asked. "No—belay that; it'll take too long. Schweighofer, get your Copperheads back in their fighters and flash it back over here. You and your command team can borrow one of the Pelicans shuttles. We're meshing out in fifteen minutes."

"Yes, sir," Schweighofer said, pushing off the command chair toward the door. "You heard the man, Copperheads. Flash it."

Quinn had the Corvine secured in his Trafalgar fighter bay in twelve and a half minutes. Exactly two and a half minutes later he felt the lurch as the Trafalgar and, presumably, the entire Wolf Pack meshed out.

Five minutes after that, as he and Bokamba were heading down the furrow toward the dayroom, the call came for him to report to the bridge.

The other fighter commanders were there already, both those from the Axehead and Adamant attack fighter wings as well as the three commanders of the Trafalgar's Copperhead contingent, gathered together in the command ring around Montgomery, Schweighofer, and Fleet Exec Germaine. Germaine looked over as Quinn arrived, motioned him to stay back. Quinn nodded and waited where he was, watching the bridge crew as they went through the procedure for securing from mesh-out and wondering what Montgomery wanted with him.

The meeting broke up a few minutes later, and as the fighter commanders headed back across the bridge, Germaine motioned him to approach. "Lieutenant Quinn," Montgomery said gravely as he reached the command ring. "Good of you to join us. I have a question for you, and I'd like a straight answer."

"Of course, sir," Quinn said.

"I mean a straight answer," Montgomery repeated, his eyes boring into Quinn's face. "I don't care what anyone else has told you to say or not to say. I don't care whether they've invoked the Official Secrets Regulations, your own personal honor, or God Himself. I want the truth."

The other two senior officers were also staring unblinkingly at him. Not with any obvious animosity, but not with any friendliness, either. "I understand, sir," Quinn said.

"All right." Montgomery paused. "You've been working closely with Lord Stewart Cavanagh for several years now, ever since you resigned the Peacekeepers to become his head of security. Question: is he still involved in NorCoord politics? Specifically, has he recently been authorized by the NorCoord Parliament or Peacekeeper Command to act in any sort of diplomatic capacity?"

It was about the last subject Quinn would ever have guessed this summons was going to be about. "I don't know, sir," he said. "As far as I know, Lord Cavanagh's a completely private citizen now."

"I see." Montgomery gazed hard at him. "You're absolutely sure he has no links to the NorCoord government?"

"No, sir, I can't be absolutely sure about that," Quinn said, beginning to sweat a little. What was all this about? "Lord Cavanagh doesn't confide all of his activities to me."

"Yet he chose you to lead the rescue mission for his son," Montgomery persisted.

"Actually, sir, I volunteered," Quinn said. "May I ask what this has to do with me?"

"It has nothing specific to do with you, Lieutenant," Montgomery said. "It has to do with this unscheduled detour we're taking from our assigned mission, and how we're going to deal with the Yycromae when we mesh in at Phormbi. Whether we treat them as victims, potential enemies"—his lip twitched—"or allies."

Allies? The Yycromae? "I'm afraid you've lost me, sir," Quinn said.

Germaine stirred. "Perhaps, Commodore, we should go ahead and show him the communiqué."

"I suppose we'll have to," Montgomery said reluctantly, reaching over to his command chair and pulling a plate emblazoned with the Peacekeeper insignia from a slot in one of the armrests. "You understand, Lieutenant, that this is strictly confidential."

"Yes, sir."

"All right." Montgomery keyed up a page on the plate and handed it to him.

It was a Secret-One message, routed through Edo ten days previously, and addressed to all senior Peacekeeper officers and all command-rank officers with forces stationed within thirty light-years of Yycroman space.

Describing a rearmament agreement between Peacekeeper Command and the Yycromae.