Episode 63

They Got Her

When Osborn left, she sat staring at the wall, thinking about the terrible risk she was running. It wasn't merely her own life that she was gambling, it was the lives of hundreds of men on this crew. It was Corden Hull, Victor Benbow, James Tregaski, men she'd come to know, like, and in some cases, even admire over the course of this voyage.

With any luck at all, she'd be able to unmask the killers to Hull's complete satisfaction. And, more importantly, justify her subsequent actions. It was tempting, ever so tempting, to take the seemingly safer route and eliminate all nine of the survivors, but that would not root out Draco's own traitors. As was so often the case, her best chances for success lay in running the greater risk.

The problem was that there was very little she could do now. Everything depended upon Benbow and Osborn. They were good men, certainly better than she had any right to expect. But afterward? She closed her eyes, wondering at the value of a day, an hour, a second, and at the vagaries of chance. This deadly confrontation with the survivors of the Rigel was only the beginning.

After that, the real danger would commence.

She was surprised to be summoned to the bridge a good kilosecond before the scheduled group interrogation. She found the captain standing with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing through the star window at the great glowing bowl of the galaxy.

“You wished to see me?” she asked. “Have the men from the Rigel been told that we'll be interviewing them today?”

Hull turned slowly and glanced around the bridge to assure himself no one was within earshot. When he turned back to her, his face held an expression which York couldn't quite decipher. The hard lines of his jaw were as set as ever, but something akin to relief shone in his pale blue Achernarni eyes.

“Myranda Flare was captured on Terentulus,” he told her quietly.

“They got her?” It felt like an electric shock coursing through her body. “They caught her!”

“They got her,” he confirmed. Three simple words. Three words upon which the fate of a galactic civilization hung suspended.

“The code arrived right before we went hyper,” Hull said. “That was the entirety of the message.”

York scarcely dared to breathe. “So, no details.”

“Nothing at all.” Hull permitted himself to smile, just a little. “Do you know what this means, Daniela? It means that once we sort out these survivors, it's over!”

“Yes, well, it's not over yet,” she temporized, wondering if he would be so relieved if he had any idea what sort of risk she was running with him and his destroyer. “Everything still depends upon our ability to neutralize the agents of House Dai Zhan.”

“But you are confident you can do that.”

“I am. And what's more, I believe it's time.”

Hull blinked, taken aback by her sudden change of mind. Until now, he had always been the one pressing for action. “Does that include those on my ship as well?”

“We will flush them out.”

“I assume you have prepared a plan.”

York nodded and began explaining it to him. Or rather, she told him a carefully edited version of it that didn't disclose the parts she had assigned Dr. Benbow and Osborn to play. She was certain that Hull wouldn't fancy gambling with the Draco. All in all, she made the unmasking of Prince Li-Hu's men sound as if it would be a simple and uneventful manner.

She rather doubted that it would be.

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