The more Van thought, though, the more he realized that he still didn’t know quite enough, no matter what he suspected, and that meant, in the end, he would have to go through with the plan that he only had half-formulated.
He walked back to Eri’s stateroom, knocking on the door. “Eri…”
“Yes, ser?”
“Tell me again what we have in the way of personal gadgets, weapons, tools, and dirty tricks…”
Van hoped some of them would fit into his plans.
Chapter 63
Van straightened in the command couch. He had to concentrate on the approach and docking. What came afterward would be more difficult and nerve-wracking than any space combat he’d been in—at least for him.
Tara orbit control two, Hyndji commercial ship Daiphur, on approach. Request locking assignment.
Daiphur, stand by, continue low-power approach.
Control two, Daiphur continuing approach this time. Was there traffic he couldn’t see, shielded by the bulk of the station, or a ship delocking? Van knew he was being oversensitive, but it was hard to avoid such feelings.
Several minutes passed.
Daiphur, sorry for the delay. Cleared to charlie five this time. Maintain low-power approach. Standing by for authorization transfer at your convenience.
Control, Daiphur. Authorization follows. Van pulsed the credit authorization, this one drawn on the Dhyli Trust.
Authorization received. Thank you. You are cleared to lock, charlie five. Report depowering and switch to station power.
Control, Daiphur, will do.
Van guided the ship around the station and into position off lock charlie five, then slowly eased the Daiphur/Joyau into the dampers. The faintest clunk echoed through the hull. Van winced. He’d touched in a little hard.
After scanning the indicators, he activated the ship’s damper receptors, then dropped the ship gravity to nil.
Control, Daiphur, ship gravity is nil. Switching to station power this time.
Daiphur, thank you. Have a pleasant stay.
Van brought up the ship gravity to one gee on station power. He unfastened his harness and looked at Eri. “I have a few things to do before I head out.”
“Then you had better do them.” The impish expression followed the words.
“I love you, too.”
Eri laughed.
Van walked back to his stateroom. He’d need a shower and fresh clothes. But first, he connected to the Taran net through the orbit control station. He made a down-shuttle reservation, then one for a return on eightday. Then he secured accommodations for S. V. Moorty at the Old Dubhlyner, the luxury accommodations closest to RSF headquarters.
He had decided against making any news or information requests from the ship, except for the most recent general news, the sort of request any ship or business might make. He wanted no trails back to the ship itself, nor did he want to alert RSF security in advance.
Before cleaning up, he scanned the planetary and local New Oisin news. There was little of interest, except for several articles on the increased income tax levies required for the buildup in the RSF—with close to twenty new ships being built over the next five years. Marshal Eamon cited “the threat to the Republic posed by those who would use any tool and any subterfuge to overthrow our way of life and our traditions.”
Van wasn’t honestly sure which threat was greater—the marshal or the Revenants. He suspected that the marshal was a more imminent threat, and perhaps greater in a way, because if the marshal succeeded in creating a more tightly controlled society, many people might well welcome a Revenant takeover—or just stand by.
He cleaned up and dressed, wearing a tan singlesuit with a deep brown jacket over it, then picked up the carry bag. In the bottom was Van’s uniform, under some other clothing and toiletries. Scanners wouldn’t show it as any different from other clothing, and he’d put the insignia in a small bag inside the underwear. He’d just have to chance explaining it if he were stopped for a hand inspection.
Also in his long wallet were several datacards, specially created through the ship’s capabilities and Eri’s skills. He had no weapons, although the carryall contained a nanite bodyshield, its components split into apparently innocent items. With what he planned, weapons would merely be a distraction and a certain way to get in trouble with orbit station security.
He glanced around the stateroom. He wasn’t looking forward to the next few days, but if he didn’t at least try, he’d regret it and be bothered with it—and the damned nightmares—for the rest of his life.
A rueful smile crossed his face. If he botched it, though, he wouldn’t have any life left in which to regret anything. The choices weren’t exactly wonderful. He stepped out of the stateroom that had been as much home as anything over the past several years.
Eri was standing by the ship lock. “Don’t force your way.”
Van smiled. “Not too much, anyway.”
She nodded somberly. “I will see you on eightday.”
“Eightday,” Van affirmed. “Or sooner.”
The moment he cleared the Joyau’s lock, he could sense the scanners. There was no feedback, and he kept walking along the corridor until he reached the immigration consoles, short of the shuttle area. There, without a word, he tendered the datacard and waited.
“Ser Moorty?” asked the official at the shuttle console.
“Yes?” Van replied.
“Where will you be staying in New Oisin?”
“Three days. I have a reservation at the Old Dubhlyner. That is satisfactory, is it not?” replied Van, using a stiffer form of Anglo, one appropriate to an educated outsider.
“Oh, yes, ser. It’s a fine place.”
Van bet the poor immigration officer couldn’t have afforded a single night there, but then, one of the purposes of spending the credits was to create the impression of a wealthy businessman. Then, in a way, Van reflected, he was, although he’d never thought of it that way before.
He had to wait almost an hour before boarding the shuttle, and once on board, he listened for most of the descent, his eyes closed, and his hearing implant-boosted.
“…can’t believe all
