“All you’re doing,” Livadhi said, “is ensuring that hundreds of innocent people die. They would have been safe, but for you. They could be safe still, if you do what I tell you.”
“And what is that?”
“Let me go. Pull back, you and Suiza, and let me go. I know what I’m doing.”
“I don’t think you do, Arash,” Heris said.
“They’re your people, Heris. People you love. People you hurt once—do you want to kill them now?”
“I’m not killing them, Arash—you’re the one who was planning to take them to their deaths.”
“They’d have been repatriated,” Livadhi said. “Jules promised me—”
“Jules?”
“Never mind. It doesn’t matter now. What matters is that your people are at your mercy, Heris. I have Petris right here with me—”
“And you’re going to kill him unless I let you go, and then he’ll be killed by the Benignity? That won’t work, Arash.”
Of course it won’t work, Petris thought. I could have told you that. Bless the woman; he wished he could tell her he loved her. He relaxed, then, and let the dark pool lap over him.
“You haven’t heard me out,” Livadhi said. “You always did interrupt. Listen.”
“Arash—don’t do this,” Heris said. She felt useless; she had tried before to persuade traitors not to be traitors, and it hadn’t worked then. “You won’t get anywhere; you’ll only be killed—”
“You can’t stop me,” he said. “At best, I’ll be under suspicion the rest of my life. Why should I do that?”
“Because—” Because they had been friends. He had given her Koutsoudas when she needed him; he had let her go, with the prince’s clones, when he could have blown her away. She didn’t try to say that; he knew it already.
“I don’t want that life, Heris. I don’t want to live that way, with all those meaningful glances.”
“So you’re going to run off to the enemy, when we need you?”
“You don’t need me. You don’t even love me—”
“Love you! Is that what this is about?”
“No. Well, not entirely. Now that I’m leaving . . . I’m sorry we never got together. You Serranos are . . . special people.” The smirk on his face was infuriating; Heris wanted to wipe it off with a shovel.
“We Serranos are stubborn, arrogant, and rude, Arash. You wouldn’t have liked sleeping with me, even if I’d been willing. Now be serious—you always were a good officer. Think. This isn’t fair to your crew.”
“Life isn’t fair, Serrano. You of all people should know that.”
“Why not just kill yourself, and let them go?”
“Why would I? Heris . . . look, I wasn’t close to Lepescu, and I never went on his stupid hunts. But I knew about them. And that got me sucked in—they had something on me, so I—”
“Arash . . . you blew up two Benignity ships coming to my rescue—you can’t seriously mean—”
“Heris, you’re such an innocent. Why do you think I was even there, within range to hear you? If you hadn’t tried to fight, and that idiot in the Benignity hadn’t decided to take you out completely, you’d never have known I was there. You had something the Benignity wanted badly, and the plan was that you’d be boarded, the item removed, and then you’d be towed into a fairly lonesome sector to make your way back if you could.”
“You were after . . . the prince? You wanted the prince?”
“Yes, of course. And the clones. The Benignity thought that would give leverage . . . I didn’t want you hurt, or that old lady, actually. Her poisoning wasn’t a Benignity plan; that’s why they killed the poisoner.”
“But Arash . . .” It was useless. If he thought he’d have a good life with the Benignity . . . She squeezed her eyes shut. She had been so happy to find out that Petris was on Livadhi’s ship—she had trusted Livadhi to care for his crew as she cared for them. And now . . . he was taking them to certain death, one way or the other.
She tried again. “Why not take a shuttle? I’ll let you go; you’ll be safe—they’ll can me, but that’s happened before. And your crew”—my crew—“will be safe. You can trust me not to fire on you.”
“No,” Livadhi said. “I need the cruiser and its crew. That’s my ticket home.”
She could hardly believe, even now, how coldblooded he was. “Come on,” she said. “You’re an admiral; they’d be glad to have you if you arrived in your underwear.”
“No, Heris, they would not.” He seemed to be picking his words as if they were berries among thorns. “It is their opinion that I have not, heretofore, justified their investment in me. That is almost their exact phraseology. I must bring the cruiser and its crew—they don’t want the crew, but they want to be sure the cruiser isn’t booby-trapped.”
Away from the audio pickups, someone murmured, “Captain—” and when she glanced aside, held up a board with the number so far evacuated on it. She looked back at Livadhi.
“How about the crew, Livadhi? Did you think how they’re going to react, now they know you’ve sold them over to the Benignity? Can you really keep control of them until you get there? Do you think they’ll let the ship go without a fight?”
“Thanks to you and Suiza, probably not. Blast it, Serrano, it’s all your fault anyway.” Back to that, where he would stick until the end, she realized.
“Is Petris in your cabin with you?” she asked.
“Oh, yes. I couldn’t trust him elsewhere,” Livadhi said. “Do you want to see him?” And before she could answer, he’d turned the video pickup around. Petris sat slumped in a chair on the other side of the desk. He had a vacant, vague expression, so utterly wrong for that reckless face that Heris could not repress a gasp of dismay.
“A touch of pharmaceutical quietude,” Livadhi said; he turned the pickup back to himself and his grin was feral. “He’s too dangerous, and besides, I’d had my fun twitting him. He’s besotted with you, you know. Though he’s not up to your weight.”
Her mouth had gone dry; she could not speak. Over half the crew had been taken off, and stuffed like salt fish into Rascal’s compartments and passages. The shuttles were even now loading again—this load would have to make the longer traverse to Indefatigable, unless they were left dangling on the ropes trailed from Rascal’s transfer tube. She knew that if she microjumped closer, Livadhi would press that red button under his thumb. He might anyway.
Petris was dead already. She could see no way of getting him out—Livadhi could push that button before anyone could get into the compartment, even if there had been someone to do it. She raged inwardly at whoever was in Environmental—couldn’t they have thought to pump in some narcotic gas? But the flag offices probably had their own separate ventilation system, complete with secured oxygen tanks, for just such possibilities.
All she could do was keep Livadhi talking, as the slow shuttles went and came, ferrying off one meagre load at a time. Maybe—maybe—Petris would be the only innocent to die.
But even as she thought this, Livadhi’s gaze turned from her to one of the screens beside him, that she could not see. His eyes widened; he paled. “They’re running away! Evacuating! NO! I will not let you win, Serrano.”
And his thumb went down.
“I regret to inform you—” The old formula made it possible to say, but not easier. “Commodore Livadhi just blew up Vigilance. Rascal was much closer than we are; they may have damage. We hope there will be survivors; we are now going to mount a search and rescue effort.”
“I ask you all to remain calm, and carry out your duties; when we have word on survivors, you will be informed. For the duration of the rescue, launch bays and medical are cut out of the internal communications net: if you have a medical problem, contact your unit commander, who can contact the bridge.”