But they have a long way to go before that becomes a problem, he told himself. First, they have to survive.
He spent the next few hours reading through the final reports from the four destroyers and the freighter, then downloading news bulletins from the planetary datanet and reading them too. It looked as though no one could make up their minds about anything, although there was no shortage of talking heads ready to expound on The Meaning of It All. William read through one explanation, noted that the writer clearly knew nothing about the realities of naval life, and dismissed the rest of the bulletin unread. Whoever was running the news service wasn’t interested in facts. There was no shortage of officers on half pay who’d be happy to supplement their income by writing articles for the media companies.
Tanya returned to the ship on time, to his private amusement. He checked on her as she settled into her cabin, reminding her to spend time in VR simulations or something else that might distract her from the bulkheads pressing in, then hurried to the bridge. It was tiny, compared to Uncanny’s, but still the nerve center of the ship. He sat down in the command chair and surveyed his kingdom. The weight of command responsibility fell around him like a shroud.
I never thought I’d command a ship again, William thought. Losing two ships in quick succession and suffering the first mutiny on a naval starship had blotted his record beyond repair. The mutiny hadn’t been his fault, and the inquest had made that clear, but he’d been lucky beyond words to get a second command. And I won’t lose this one.
He sucked in his breath. “Engineering, power up the drives.”
“Aye, sir.”
William smiled as he felt a low rumble echo through the ship. They’d powered up the drives before, just to make sure they were in working order, but this was real. He watched the power curves form on his display, the drive fields readying themselves to push the ship out of orbit, and felt his smile widen. He’d been deluding himself, when he’d gone to live with his people. A starship command deck was where he belonged.
“XO, signal System Command,” he ordered. “Inform them that we are ready to depart.”
“Aye, sir,” Patti said.
William tapped his console, bringing up the near-space display. Tyre was surrounded by green and blue icons: hundreds of orbiting asteroids, thousands of military and civilian starships coming and going. It was hard to be sure, but he thought there were fewer civilian starships than he’d expected. The economy was having problems transitioning back to a peacetime footing. He grimaced. No wonder the politicians were considering cutting their military commitments. The end of the war had brought a severe drop in tax revenue.
And they can’t rely on the Commonwealth to soak up much of their production, he thought. He didn’t pretend to understand how the interstellar economy worked. Every explanation he’d heard sounded like a junior officer’s attempt to explain just what he’d been thinking to an annoyed superior after his bright idea had gone spectacularly wrong. No wonder so many spacers are out of work.
“System Command has cleared us to depart, sir,” Patti reported.
“Very good,” William said. “Helm, take us out of orbit. When we reach the gateway point, take us into hyperspace.”
“Aye, sir.”
“And then set course for Asher Dales,” William added.
“Aye, sir.”
William settled back in his command chair as Dandelion moved out of orbit, Primrose following at her heels. The destroyer wasn’t a heavy cruiser, but she was his. He was the last of the absolute monarchs, as long as he sat on her command deck. Tanya wanted him to train up local officers and crew to take his place, but it would be a long time before he stepped down. He felt a flicker of pity for Kat. She should never have let them promote her to flag rank. How could she command a starship now?
A shame she can’t join us, he thought sincerely. But her family will never let her go.
CHAPTER SEVEN
TYRE
Peter Falcone had never liked his father’s business office. It was immense, yet empty: a single desk, a large window overlooking Tyre City, and a handful of expensive paintings on the walls. There was none of the charm and elegance of his father’s private office, or even the homeliness of Peter’s original office. Its only role was to impress guests and, perhaps, host people Lucas Falcone hadn’t wanted to take into his private office. Peter rather suspected that the two men facing him fell into that category.
He kept his face carefully blank as he studied the two men. His father had hired them personally, buying out their firm, Masterly and Masterly, to ensure that he had sole call on their services. Peter wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Alexander and Clive Masterly were good and experienced men, according to his father’s private files, but he’d never been able to escape the sense that they were always keeping their eyes open for ways to exploit matters to their own advantage. Peter’s own people hadn’t been able to dig up any evidence, one way or the other, yet that was meaningless. The network of financial transactions that made up the heart of the Falcone Corporation was so complex that anyone with the right access could hide a money transfer, or something more subtle, and be reasonably sure it wouldn’t be noticed.
And anyone with that sort of access would know if we carried out an audit, he thought. By the time we had proof, they’d be halfway to Marseilles.
“Very well,” he said, stiffly. “Please, explain it to me.”
Alexander Masterly leaned forward. He was a dapper man in
