“Cu, there is another crossing, farther east. One that has never been mapped.”
“The scientists say the Eastern Rift is too wide for a sustainable road. But never mind. The scientists are always right until they’re wrong.” He resumed his cooling down exercises. “Your reasoning?”
“As yours, Cu. The ULP has no worlds in that region of space and none of our ships have ventured there; so this cannot be one of our vessels returning. Further, I think it unlikely that a lost colony could have reachieved starflight since the Diaspora and yet remained out of touch until now. Radio signatures would foretell them, if nothing else. Of course,” he added slyly, “it could be a ship of the prehumans, hiding out in the wild east and returning now at last.”
The Hound snorted. “Ah, ‘the Great Returning.’ You don’t believe in that, do you?”
“Nor would I look forward to it if I did. Sequels always disappoint.”
“What of another nonhuman race, achieving starflight at last?”
“There is a first time for everything, I suppose. But for a nonhuman race to achieve starflight, one would first need a nonhuman race. There have been only the prehumans and us.”
“It’s a big Spiral Arm.”
“So it is, but it is far more likely that—”
“That there is another Crossing, that the CCW has recently discovered it, and has sent a ship to learn where it leads, which—fortunately for us—is into my lap. Now you see my wisdom in placing drones along that road?”
“A low probability, many thought…”
“There was great amusement in the kennel,” Fir Li said. “The old dog has lost his mind.” His laughter was very like a bark. “But of course it was far better to put the drones out there and never need them.”
Greystroke glanced at the chronometer. “The interceptors will have secured the stranger by now. We start the interview in about three days, after they get down here.”
The Hound smiled grimly, revealing another band of white. “The curse of Newtonian space. We slide across light-years in mere days, but a few million leagues reduce us to a crawl. Learn what you can while he is in transit. Are any competent inquisitors on the interceptor?”
Greystroke shrugged. “Your apprentice, Pak Franswa-ji.”
“So. He will have to do. Perhaps we have plucked only a merchant-adventurer. They talk readily enough, if the price is right.”
“In a monoship? More likely, a Confederate agent.”
Fir Li resumed his exercises. “They can be brought to talk as well. It is only the price that differs.”
Bones can be broken, whips and screws applied, and a man may wear such scars with honor, because he will know he bore the pain, and can brag, even if he broke on the other side of it, that he had endured as much as he had. But there is another sort of breaking and other sorts of scars, and they reduce a man only to an object of pity, because he cannot even recall what courage he showed before courage found its limit.
Greystroke reported at the Squadron staff meeting, attended not only by Fir Li’s kennel, but also by the naval officers and department heads. And so amid reports on stores, on fuel consumption, on disciplinary hearings, on traffic and customs, was one on a pithed man. The department supervisors looked away and the naval officers threw their heads back in a gesture of distaste. They knew such measures were used, but they liked to pretend they were not necessary.
“He was sent to contact an agent of theirs on Jehovah,” Greystroke said.
Fir Li was reading three other reports and discussing with the commodore ship dispositions for the coming metric week. “What name was he told to find?”
“‘Donovan.’ His contact is via the Terran Brotherhood.”
“Yes. Well, all Terrans are Confederate spies. Are the ship dispositions satisfactory, Leif?”
The commodore bowed his head, and suggested two changes. “Because Shree Anuja will leave the Squadron as soon as Victory arrives.”
“Positioning them for a quicker departure? Surely, the Anujas are not bored with this duty?” Several men and women around the table laughed. “Pup! What message was he carrying to this ‘Agent D’?”
Greystroke paused for effect. That na Fir Li was paraperceptic and could handle multiple information streams simultaneously was known to all. Why keep the eyes from reading, the Hound had once complained, simply because the ears are hearing? His interlocutors made a certain allowance for his seeming deficit of attention; but at the moment Greystroke wanted the whole thing.
His pause could have been measured in microbeats, but achieved its intent. Fir Li held a palm out to silence the commodore and the traffic control director (who had his other ear) pushed the reports forward, and balled his hands on the tabletop. “Am I going to like this or not?” he asked Greystroke.
“It could go either way, Cu. What do you call it when you pierce a mystery only to find an enigma behind it?”
“A delaying tactic by a subordinate. What was the man’s message?”
“That Those of Name wish Donavan to report on the detention of CCW merchant ships by ULP forces.”
The silence spread to the whispered side conversations around the table. Leif Commodore Echeverria blinked his large, owlish eyes. “But we aren’t…” The Hound hushed him.
“They have been detaining and impounding our ships,” Fir Li said.
“Cu, the fact is only that some ships have entered the Rift and there is no record of their return. The reason for this has yet to attain the lofty stature of ‘fact.’ It may be no more than faulty record-keeping; but now we learn that the enemy has the same concern. We never thought to ask how many of their ships disappear.”
“Or we learn that They wish us to believe they have the same concern,” said the Hound. “Couriers have been used before to spread disinformation.”
“Cu, which of the two evident paths should I follow?”
“Oh, the second, of course. You are not weaned for the first. For that task, I will call to Hounds.”
The other Pups smiled, and the commodore threw up his hands, looking for support among the rest of the management team. “Oh, that was clear!”
“Perhaps as clear as need be for one rotating out on the next duty cycle.” Fir Li had gathered the reports to him and his eyes, ears, and mouth parted company once more. “But, to humor you, Leif. My journeyman wishes a journey. We know that ships enter the Rift and do not return. The obvious explanation is that Those of Name have seized them. But as my Pup has pointed out, we do not yet know if they actually reach the other side. There may be some unknown hazard in the Rift itself. One way to learn that is to dispatch a man into the Confederacy. Greystroke-ji believes he is ready for that. He is wrong, but the confidence does him credit. The second way is to complete the courier’s mission for him. You do have his passwords, Pup.”
“Of course, Cu. And the encrypted bubble. I assume it contains the names of the missing Confederate ships and that Donovan possesses the dongle to decrypt it.”
“And that being the shorter journey,” Fir Li continued to the commodore, “and the one more likely to bear fruit, I have instructed him to pursue it.”
“But…” interjected Traffic Control, “but you told him to take the ‘second’ course before you knew which one he meant!”