“It could have been much worse,” Morgan admitted. “The one he got was after the captain. That shot took out Braun and Rynd instead.”
“The professor couldn’t have known that. The man he hit only got off one blast.”
“The professor crushed his windpipe, broke both arms, and triggered instant heart failure, then vaulted a table with a chair and distracted the second killer long enough for you to take him out. Does that sound like your typical professor?”
I’d figured that from the beginning. “He isn’t a professor?”
“No. That’s the problem. He has been for years. He’s got awards and publications, even. But… how many professors have that kind of reaction and training?”
Could tell Morgan was pissed at not knowing more about the professor. “You think he was planted by D.S.S.?”
“Comity Diplomatic Corps, more likely. I think he’s an unconscious plant.”
“Conditioned? Like the two stewards, except by our side?”
Morgan shook his head. “No. Not for the expedition in particular. He already had the conditioning. They went out looking for former commandos or operatives who had the academic or professional background for the expedition. I’d bet Fitzhugh was a single termer who used the service to get his education and never looked back. Their conditioning runs deep, and trying to remove it is usually worse than leaving it. They plant social mores and morals all over it. It takes something like what happened to trigger it, and intelligence types figure that in such situations, it’s justified.”
Another aspect of the Comity I’d never known. Made me just as glad I could go back to being a civilian. Hoped I could, anyway. Also explained a lot about the way the professor moved. Made sense. Just hadn’t thought of it that way. Stopped.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Wasn’t about to tell Morgan I’d realized where I’d seen Fitzhugh before—in the high-gee workout room.
“Lieutenant.”
“Didn’t realize it until now. I’d seen him in the workout rooms once.”
“So he stayed in shape. That figures. They’d pick a compulsive.”
Didn’t know that I’d like to be called that. “You think there are others?”
“Some… but not many. He might be the only one. That combination’s hard to find.” Morgan shook his head. “Bastards.”
Knew he meant Comity Diplomatic.
“They knew we’d be infiltrated.”
“That’s three subverted so far, isn’t it?”
“So far.” He sounded resigned.
For the first time, I began to worry. Really worry. “What else?”
“Pilots. We lost Ungera in that Sunnite fight, and Rynd, Rigney, Beurck, and Braun in the mess. That leaves us with four needleboats, and just Shaimen, Lindskold, and Tuala.” Almost asked why the Magellan didn’t have more needleboat pilots. Then I realized why. Most times, when a needle was lost, so was the pilot. What I’d managed to do with Shaimen was the exception. And in modem warfare, either all the officers on a capital ship survived a battle—or none did.
“I can handle a needleboat.” Couldn’t believe I’d said that.
Morgan smiled, faintly. “I might have to take you up on that, Lieutenant, but not until we’re on the way back. While we’re here, you’re more valuable as a shuttle pilot, and with only you and Lerrys as first-class shuttle pilots…”
“What else?”
“A CW flotilla is missing. No one knows where it is. So is one from the Worlds of the Covenant.”
“How did you find out that?”
“We’ve been running the couriers. That came from the Bannister when it came back yesterday.” He shrugged. “They could be anywhere. They could be out to fight each other. It’s a big galaxy, and they don’t like each other much.”
“You don’t think that.”
“Not anymore.”
“Why them?”
“The Chrysanthemum Worlds and the Worlds of the Covenant are both pressing the Middle Kingdom, as well as each other, because they’re worried about the recent tech advances in the Middle Kingdom. The CWs don’t want to see the Middle Kingdom regain a tech advantage. The death-conditioning on the second steward was typical of CW neural work. That’s what Major DeLisle thought.”
Made a sick kind of sense. Weaken the pilot and command structure of the Magellan ... “What about the Alwyn?”
“Two pilots died from a malfunction of the Alwyn’s shuttle and a needle yesterday. They haven’t traced how it happened. They probably won’t. There’s not much left of either craft. Collided, partial explosion, and the vector imparted blew them into Danann’s gravity well.”
“Just happened that way.” I snorted. “It wasn’t any coincidence.”
“Neither captain thinks so, but it is a combat mission.”
“Just not the kind of combat anyone expected.”
“Not yet.” Morgan was telling me that would come as well.
“That’s why you haven’t told anyone?” I could see why he hadn’t, but it bomered me.
“Do you think that would help anyone?” he countered. “Anyway, we’ll have to handle all the replenishment runs to the Alwyn now.”
He was trying to change the subject away from the combat angle. He was probably right, but it still nagged at me. Whatever I thought, Morgan was going to do what he was going to do. “You don’t like to tell anyone anything unless you think it’s absolutely necessary, do you?”
He laughed, once. “You should understand that.”
Almost shot back that I wasn’t the ops officer, either. Didn’t. Didn’t know as I wouldn’t have done the same. Instead, I backed off. “Have the scientists found anything that’s worth all that?”
“They’ve got samples of those anomalous composites. Sorens thinks that he can duplicate some of the properties on one now that he’s seen how the Danannians did it. The others, he’s not even certain how it’s possible. Lazar says it will take years of observations and investigation to determine what’s occurring under the lake. Whatever that process is, he’s convinced that it’s somehow linked to Danann itself and its velocity and position.”
“We don’t have years.”
“We may not have even weeks.”
“Anything else?”
“No one else has managed to figure out anything. Not yet, anyway. There’s nothing else down there except the towers and the canals and lakes. Every building is empty. I’ve told Dr. Henjsen to step up the process of opening and scanning towers. That’s whether she and her team can ever investigate them all.” His smile was sour. “She’s not happy with that, either. It’s highly improper archeology.”
“Proper is fine when you have the time.”
“She understands that. She just doesn’t like it. None of us do.” Morgan stood. “I need to meet with the captain. I’ll have a revised schedule ready for you and Lerrys later.”
“We’ll split the duties until you have a chance to get to that.”
Morgan gestured to the hatch. All the spaces on the command deck had airtight hatches. I went out and headed for the down ramp. He headed toward the bridge.
After I left the ops area, I went down to the thirtieth deck.
The medtech on duty there looked at me. “You’re checking on Dr. Fitzhugh, Lieutenant?”
I nodded.
“His reactions are better. He’ll be in the crib for at least another week, though. That’s what Major DeLisle said.”
“What about his mind? His nerves?”
“Hard to say, sir. Most people don’t survive that kind of jolt. His brain is functioning on all levels, though.”
How it was functioning was another question. No one could answer that now. Hoped he’d recover everything. Hoped… but you never knew. My guts twisted. If he hadn’t gone for the second steward, I’d be the one in the medcrib—or dead.