Эрик Флинт - The Service of the Sword

"It's straining regulations, but—I'm inclined to agree that—"

He got no further before an alarm sounded. Commander Tarack, Ballon's replacement as Hector 's tac officer, started in his chair—his attention, like everyone else's, had been riveted on Cachat—and turned quickly to his console. Fresh datacodes blinked on his display, and he listened hard to his ear bug.

Then he paled.

Noticeably.

"Sir," he said, unable to completely disguise his nervousness, "I'm getting a very big hyper footprint. Uh, very big, Sir. And . . . uh, I think—not sure yet—that we've got some ships of the wall here. Uh. Lots of them. At least half a dozen, I think."

Whatever his other shortcomings, Wright was an experienced ship commander. "What distance?" he asked, his voice level and even. "And can you make out their identity?"

"Twelve light-minutes, Sir. Bearing oh-one-niner, right on the ecliptic. I won't be able to determine their identity, or even the actual class types, until the light-speed platforms report, Sir."

Twelve minutes later, Commander Tarack was able to determine the identity of the incoming task force. "They're Havenite, Sir."

The people on the bridge relaxed. Somewhat. It still remained unclear whether the task force was from the newly established regime or . . . who knew? There were apparently StateSec-led rebellions in several provincial sectors—one of which, at least, was not all that far from La Martine sector.

But, ten minutes after that, that uncertainty vanished also. The first message from the incoming flotilla had bridged the lightspeed distance.

"They're from Haven itself, Sir," reported the comm rating. "It's a task force sent out by President Pritchard, to—ah, it says 'help reestablish proper authority in Ja'al, Tetra and La Martine sectors, and suppress any disturbances, if needed.' That's a quote, Sir. Admiral Austell's in command."

"Midge Austell?" asked Commodore Ogilve sharply.

The rating shook her head. "Doesn't say, Sir. Just: 'Rear Admiral Austell, task force commander."

"It's got to be Midge," said Admiral Chin. There was more than a trace of excitement in her voice. "I don't know any other Austell on the Captain's List. Didn't know she'd made admiral, though. Fast track, if she did."

"She could have, Genevieve," said Ogilve. His own voice sounded elated. "She never got smeared by Hancock the way we did, you know. She was too junior, at the time, just my tac officer in the Napoleon . So she didn't spend our time on the beach. God knows she's good enough. In my opinion, anyway."

"Here's another message, Sir," called out the rating. "Says that FIA Director Usher is accompanying the task force. 'To reestablish proper police authorities in provincial sectors.' That's a direct quote, Sir."

Cachat collapsed into an empty seat. "Thank God," he whispered. He put his face in his hands. "I am so very tired."

A last spark of anger almost led Yuri to demand: From what? You haven't done anything for weeks except rest.

But he didn't ask the question. Wouldn't have , even if he hadn't seen Sharon's eyes on him. Hard eyes; questioning eyes—still pleading eyes, too. Yuri and Sharon would have a lot to talk through, in the days to come.

But Yuri Radamacher did not ask, because the commissioner knew the answer. Victor Cachat had not slacked off. Cachat had done his duty, and done it to the full.

And now, even a fanatic was weary of such duty.

Cachat still seemed weary, five hours later, when the first pinnace from the arriving task force docked at the Hector. He was there with the rest of them in the boat bay gallery, but his normally square shoulders seemed slumped; his face drained and paler than ever.

The sight of the first person coming through the lock seemed to pick up his spirits, true. That sight certainly picked up Yuri's. He'd forgotten how large and excessively muscular Kevin Usher was, but the cheerful, rakish face was exactly as he remembered. Kevin Usher in a good mood could brighten up any gathering—and the man was obviously in a very good mood.

"Victor!" he bellowed, stepping forward and sweeping the smaller man into a bear hug. "Damn, it's good to see you again!"

He plunked the young man down and examined him. "You look like shit," he pronounced. "You're not exercising enough."

In point of fact, Yuri knew that Cachat exercised at least two hours a day. But Cachat didn't argue the point.

"I'm pretty worn out, Kevin," he said softly.

Usher's sharp eyes studied him for a few seconds. "Well, it's up to you. Your posting as provisional sector governor is rescinded, as of this moment. That was just an emergency stop-gap. You're not really the right type for it—as you and I both know good and well, heh—and we've got someone else in mind anyway. But I do need to appoint an FIA director for La Martine. I was going to offer the post to you, but . . . if you don't want it, you can return with me to Nouveau Paris. It's not like I don't have a thousand hot spots to squelch, and I do believe you've become one of my top firemen."

"I want to go home, Kevin." Cachat's voice seemed very thin. "Wherever home is. It's not here. Nobody here—"

He broke off, shook his head, and continued more firmly. "I'd rather return with you to Nouveau Paris and take on a different assignment. I'm tired of this one."

Usher studied him for a few seconds more, with that shrewd gaze. "Been rough, huh? I figured it might have been, from what I could tell at a distance. Okay, then. Name your replacement."

Cachat didn't hesitate. Just turned his head and pointed a finger at Yuri. "Him. He's—"

For the first time, Usher caught sight of Radamacher.

"Yuri!" he bellowed. "Long time!"

The next thing Yuri knew he was being swept up into the same bear hug.

He'd also forgotten how strong Usher was. He couldn't breathe. But Yuri finally forgave Cachat for Sharon's beating. He didn't want to think what kind of punishment those huge hands had visited on the fanatic.

Usher plopped Yuri back on his feet. Then, one hand still on Yuri's shoulder, shook his head firmly.

"Not a chance. We've got another assignment for this one, if he wants it. We're putting our own people in as governors for most of the sectors, but La Martine's been so rock steady that we decided we'd just leave Yuri here in place running the show."

Everyone in the La Martine delegation looked surprised. "How'd you know—?" Chin asked.

Usher laughed. "For Pete's sake, Admiral, rumor flies both ways. Must have been thirty merchant ships pass through Haven, all with the same story. Commissioner Radamacher's holding the fort in La Martine, steady as she goes and business is even good. That's why we've left you on your own so long. Sorry 'bout that, but we had way too many other problems on our hands to worry about a problem that didn't exist. Besides—"

The other big hand clapped down on Cachat's shoulder. "I knew my number one boy Victor was out here, lending a hand. That was worth an hour's extra sleep for me every night, right there."

To Victor: "Name somebody else."

Victor pointed at Sharon. "Her, then. Captain Sharon Justice."

Sharon was standing frozen. Radamacher likewise. In fact, everyone in the La Martine delegation had a strained look on their face.

Usher frowned. "What's the matter?"

Cachat glanced around. Then, flushed a bit. "Oh. Well. Bad memories, I imagine. I once asked people here to name their replacements and—well. It all turned out a bit, ah, unpleasant."

Usher grinned. "Ran you all through the ringer, did he? Ha!" The hand rose, fell, clapping Cachat's shoulder. "A real piece of work, isn't he? Like I said, my number one boy."