Lt. Leary, Commanding by David Drake

“Why yes, Daniel is Speaker Leary’s son,” Adele said. “Your opposite number in the Republic, one might say; though we too have our factions.”

She nodded in the direction of the fighting with what she hoped was a good-natured smile. Good nature wasn’t a subject on which Adele Mundy had a great deal of experience.

“I hope that you didn’t think that Daniel’s come to you as a junior naval lieutenant?” she said. “The RCN is completely apolitical, I assure you. You’ll be negotiating with a Leary of Bantry, sir.”

A Falassan inside the fort began shouting into what had been Aretine’s display. His bearded face was contorted with emotion. Adele had shut off the sound pickup along with all the unit’s other functions.

“I see,” said Kelburney without inflexion. “That’s interesting, Officer Mundy. I’m glad you told me.”

The Falassan gave up trying to speak into the console. He and a fellow reached down and together lifted Aretine by the hair into the image field. The rebel leader’s eyes bulged and dribbles of blood ran from her ears. She’d probably been shot in the back of the head, but it was impossible to tell from this angle.

“Cue me,” the Astrogator said with a curt nod to Adele. “All right, siblings, the fighting’s over! Remember what I told you about the prisoners. Now it’s time to party!”

He took off the RCN helmet and returned it to Adele as Daniel came sauntering back. Several of the bodyguards started shooting gleefully at the sky.

“Astrogator Kelburney,” Daniel said, “now that the business here has been taken care of, I want to discuss a matter that will greatly increase the influence of your cluster in the Cinnabar Senate.”

“They’re coming out!” shouted a Dalbriggan who had a direct view of the fortress.

“Not just yet, Leary,” the Astrogator said. “We’ll talk tomorrow after you’ve got your ship rerigged, and you won’t be sorry for the result. But not just now.”

Adele sighed, gathering her strength to stand up again. She and Daniel had saved quite a number of lives by ending the battle in this fashion. She supposed she should feel cheerful.

But the air stank of blood and destruction, and Adele felt only disgust—at herself and at the species of which she was a part.

Chapter Twenty-nine

“You appear to be getting the Pretty Mary nicely back in shape, Captain Slayter,” Daniel said as the glum-faced merchant captain walked up as he surveyed the Princess Cecile. “Have you made headway in locating your missing fuel cells?”

Daniel judged that the corvette was about three hours short of being able to lift with her rig in inspection order, but Woetjans had surprised him in the past with the speed her crews could work. Of course the readiness of the Princess Cecile wasn’t the question that most concerned him at the moment.

“Oh, we found most of them,” Slayter said. “There was a pile off-loaded right beside her, left right out in the weather, the lazy bastards. Your lot of pirates say they won’t stop us, but they don’t help us reload the ship either. We’re a merchant ship with an economic crew, not an army of folks sitting around in case there’s a cargo to be shifted without stevedores.”

“Indeed,” said Daniel, sauntering toward the corvette’s stern. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Slayter referred to the Dalbriggans as “your lot of pirates,” implying Daniel was responsible for their actions or inaction, nor had he missed the swipe at RCN crews paid by taxes and tribute.

The Homeland spaceport was a plain blasted to purplish ceramic by thousands of starship movements. Canals fed by the river to the north crisscrossed the land and provided reaction mass, but the Selma pirates didn’t favor water harbors the way most starfarers did.

Their cutters didn’t sink deeply into bare soil as heavier vessels would, but there was another practical reason why the pirates weren’t fussy about where they landed. Besides capturing ships as they exited the Matrix, the Selma cutters raided outlying settlements where starships didn’t normally land. They were used to the tricky business of landing on hard ground, and the practice they received at home made them less prone to error when repeating the process under fire.