Timothy Zahn - Conquerors' Legacy

"As you see," Montgomery said, "Lord Cavanagh's name is mentioned as being on both the guarantee of Yycroman intent and the statement of Peacekeeper understanding. The question boils down to whether these are properly authorized documents, or whether they're something else entirely."

"Such as part of some private business scheme of Lord Cavanagh's," Germaine put in. "Or even something the Yycromae might have obtained under duress."

Quinn looked back down at the plate. "According to this a senior NorCoord Military Intelligence officer also signed the documents," he pointed out.

"Unfortunately, the officer isn't identified," Montgomery growled. "I understand there are security considerations involved; but, unfortunately, it also leaves me accepting this sudden de facto alliance with the Yycromae on blind faith. I don't like that."

For a brief moment it occurred to Quinn to remind the commodore that that was exactly how he and the rest of the lower ranks usually had to accept their orders. But he resisted the temptation. "Were copies of the actual documents included with this?" he asked instead.

"Yes," Montgomery said. "With the Intelligence officer's name blanked out, of course."

"May I see them?"

Montgomery's forehead creased slightly. "Why?"

"I may at least be able to tell you whether Lord Cavanagh's signature was obtained under duress."

The commodore glanced at Germaine, and Quinn caught the fleet exec's microscopic shrug. "It's a rather severe violation of military protocol," Montgomery commented, taking the plate back from Quinn. "But having come this far already, I suppose that hardly matters." He keyed the plate to a new position and handed it back.

It took Quinn nearly five minutes to wade through the three pages of thick legal wordage. But when he was done, he was convinced. "Lord Cavanagh was not coerced into signing either document, Commodore," he told Montgomery, handing him back the plate. "Furthermore, if there was any fraud or deceit on the part of the Yycromae, he was unaware of it. To the best of his knowledge both documents were written and signed in good faith."

"Amazing," Germaine murmured. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," Quinn assured him. "There are special ways Lord Cavanagh will write a contract or document to indicate whether or not he's in full voluntary agreement. Particular phrasings, key words—that sort of thing." He nodded toward the plate. "All the proper cues are there."

"I see," Montgomery said. He gazed at the plate another few seconds; then—reluctantly, Quinn thought—he closed it and returned it to its slot in the armrest. "Then I suppose that's settled. We go in as allies, until and unless matters indicate otherwise. Thank you, Lieutenant: dismissed." He turned to Germaine—

"One other matter, Commodore, if I may," Quinn spoke up. "The last I heard, my new tail man still hadn't arrived."

Montgomery looked at Schweighofer, lifted his eyebrows. "That's correct, sir," the fighter commander confirmed. "He was promised for two days ago, but he hasn't shown up yet. I don't know what's happened to him."

"Some snarled order somewhere," Montgomery nodded. "I suppose that means you'll be sitting this one out, Lieutenant."

Quinn grimaced. "With all due respect, Commodore, I'd rather not. Not to seem immodest, but against eleven Zhirrzh warships, you're going to need me."

"We're going to need the Eighth Fleet, too," Montgomery countered dryly. "We'll just have to make do without them."

"You know the regulations, Lieutenant," Schweighofer put in. "We haven't got any spare Copperheads, and you can't fly combat without a tail. No exceptions."

"I understand the regulations, sir," Quinn said. "But in this case—"

"You've been dismissed, Lieutenant," Germaine cut him off sharply. "Return to your quarters."

Quinn didn't move. "You're going to need every resource you've got, Commodore," he said firmly. "Furthermore, you do have a spare Copperhead aboard."

Germaine lifted a half-beckoning hand toward the Marine guards at the door. "If I have to have you physically removed—"

"At ease, Tom," Montgomery said mildly. "I presume, Lieutenant, that you're referring to Tac Coordinator Bokamba."

"Reserve Wing Commander Bokamba, sir, yes," Quinn said. "He could fly tail for me."

"Bokamba's been retired from active duty for five years," Schweighofer reminded him. "Retired for good and proper reasons, I might add. Furthermore, he was a pilot, not a tail man."

"He can handle the job," Quinn insisted. "And I think he'd like to get back in the cockpit."

"That's not the point," Montgomery said. "Using resources is one thing. Wasting those resources is quite another."

"You won't be wasting them, sir," Quinn assured him. He hesitated— "Please."

For a moment Montgomery just gazed at him. Then, with a sigh, he shook his head. "Commander Schweighofer, you'll inform Tac Coordinator Bokamba that he's been reassigned as Lieutenant Quinn's tail man."

Schweighofer cleared his throat. "Sir, if I may remind you of the reason why Bokamba was retired from active duty—"

"I'm aware of the reason, Commander," Montgomery said. "I'm also aware of Lieutenant Quinn's reputation as a pilot. And he's right: we can't afford to let him sit this one out. Tac Coordinator Bokamba is to be reassigned as ordered, effective immediately."

He looked at Quinn. "And you, Lieutenant Quinn, will get off my bridge. Now."

"Yes, sir," Quinn said, straightening to full attention. "Thank you, Commodore."

Yet there it was, drifting from its mesh-in point toward the raging battle, utterly dwarfing the Conqueror warships. And nestled within the gaps of the delicate-looking framework, pinned there like some grotesque butterfly collection, was what appeared to be an entire Peacekeeper fleet.

A fleet that, like a slowly awakening giant, was beginning to show signs of movement...

"I don't believe it," Cho Ming whispered, his voice somewhere between stunned and reverent. "What in God's name is that?"

"You got me," Daschka said, shaking his head. "But I'd lay you odds it has something to do with that Lupis Project that's been drifting in and out of the Intelligence reports for the past six months. Let's get some IDs on these guys—that carrier first."

From behind Aric came a renewed tapping of keys. "It reads out as the Trafalgar," Cho Ming said. "Rigel-class attack carrier. Thirteen other ships with it. Just a second; I'm getting small explosions now at the Trafalgar's bow and stern. Looks like they're popping their tethers to that outer framework."

"What are the Zhirrzh doing?"

"Nothing yet," Cho Ming said. "They're probably as flabbergasted by it as we are."

"That won't last long." Daschka pointed out the canopy toward the Peacekeeper ships. "Look—you can see the flares.

"The Trafalgar's launching its fighters."

"Alert all warships!" Supreme Commander Prm-jevev barked, staring in a mix of fascination and horror at the huge space vehicle that had suddenly appeared from the tunnel-line behind the Zhirrzh force. Awesome, terrifying, impossibly huge, like something out of ancient legend.

The Elder he'd sent to report to Warrior Command flicked back in. "Speaker Cvv-panav: 'It's a trap!' " he quoted. " 'Exactly as I warned you.' " His voice was harsh with the Speaker's anger, as if Prm-jevev had gotten himself into this predicament solely to spite him.

A second Elder appeared before Prm-jevev could respond. "The Overclan Prime: 'It does indeed appear to be a trap,' " he said. Unlike Cvv-panav's, his tone was calm, even matter-of-fact. " 'Can you handle it?' "

"Supreme Commander, they're launching their fighter warcraft," one of the warriors called.