Why?
Because he felt only Van understood? Or because Van was the only one who might actually consider using it? Either way, it was a chilling thought.
Van looked at the container, knowing the hell it contained. Yet…what was he supposed to do? Spend the rest of his life on useless palliatives while the Republic replicated the mistakes of the Revenants, sowed the seeds of greater oppression while everyone else stood by, because they had bigger issues or domestic concerns?
The strongest words expressed against the Republic had been “deeply concerned” with a vain hope that the atrocities would not continue.
Van took out his IIS datacard.
Chapter 95
By sixday of the following week, Van had a far greater appreciation of Trystin’s abilities. Without the detailed instructions that had come with the flux generator, it would have taken Van weeks, if not months, to assemble the equipment and set it up within the Joyau’s escape pod.
Even with what amounted to a step-by-step manual, and with equipment that had been designed and created in a modular structure, Van had worked sixteen-hour days for over a week. On more than one occasion, he’d had to call in Jynko for technical help. He had managed to explain the equipment as an out-system emergency power generation system, although he wasn’t sure that Jynko believed him. Jynko had looked dubious, but at least had not called Van on the description, which was, in a fashion, correct.
By late afternoon, Van had finally returned the escape pod to its normal position at one end of the Joyau’s main cargo lock, where he was resetting the emergency quick-release restraints.
Message from incoming vessel—that was the relay from the shipnet.
Accept. Van had a good idea who that might be.
Van…you’ve got no image.
That’s because I’m not near a scanner, Nynca.
Where are you?
In the cargo bay, checking things out. Dock at the other tower and come on over.
I’ll be there in thirty minutes.
Van finished resetting the last of the quick releases, and then, given his sweaty condition, returned to his stateroom, where he quickly showered. He’d pulled on a clean shipsuit and shipboots, and had even gotten into the galley. The café and kettle were beginning to steam when Nynca appeared at the tower lock. Van slipped from the galley to the lock and opened it.
She looked at his still-damp hair and laughed. “You and Gramps.”
“What about us?”
“He didn’t like to meet people unless he was clean and groomed and dressed.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?” Van pulsed the lock shut behind Nynca.
“No. It’s a pleasant formality, but one that’s not always followed these days.”
“When formality vanishes, so do ethics,” Van quipped. “That’s a quote from Exton.”
“He might have something.”
“Do you want tea or café?” he asked. “The kettle’s on, and the café’s made.”
“Café.”
Van led the way to the galley, where he poured two mugs, then walked to the stateroom. He took the console chair and let Nynca have the more comfortable reading chair. Van’s eyes strayed to the shelf on the far bulkhead, where the restrainers held the decorative box from the prime minister of Scandya. He wanted to shake his head. That had been so long ago, and he’d been so innocent.
Nynca looked at him. “What is it?”
“Nothing. Just thinking about how much has happened in the last few years.”
“It has.” She paused. “Joe said I’d better meet you here. He didn’t say why. He did say that you came out here without Alya.”
“He doesn’t know why,” Van said. “He just knows that I’m here, and that I didn’t give him a good enough reason. I didn’t bring Alya because I’d given her two weeks off, and for what I’m doing, I didn’t need her, and she didn’t need just to sit around. I’ll need her more later.”
“That’s good to know,” Nynca said dryly. “That you’ll need her later. Why are you here?”
“Checking out equipment, and going over the Joyau with Morgan.” All that was true.
“You’re sounding more and more like Gramps.” Nynca laughed. “Everything you say is the truth, and I don’t know any more when you finish than when you started.”
“That’s possible. I think we had a few things in common. Tell me more about him,” Van suggested.
“About what.”
“Start with more about why he felt the way he did.”
“I don’t know. Not really. I’m not sure that anyone could know, except maybe Ulteena. From what I’ve heard, she didn’t say anything either.” Nynca sipped the café. “This is good.”
“Thank you. Who was Ulteena?” That was a name Van hadn’t heard.
“She was his wife. She was also a senior commander in the Service. They were married late, and only had one child.” Nynca smiled. “I come from a long line of single children, and, like all the others, I have one.”
“A daughter?”
“A son actually. He’s at Cambria University.”
“And he’ll be a Service pilot, too?”
“He says not.”
“Was Trystin around when you were growing up?”
“He was there, but usually not when my father was. He made my father nervous.”
“Your mother’s the Desoll, then?”
“Yes. He—my father—didn’t like the idea of the name going down, but there were a lot of things he didn’t like.” Nynca straightened in her chair. “Something’s nagging at you.” She didn’t ask what. She just looked at Van.
“On the last time out, I tried to get into the Setioni system. It’s one of the outlying Keltyr systems. The Republic has a small flotilla there. Two battle cruisers, frigates, and corvettes.”
“You’re thinking of building a battle cruiser?” Nynca arched her eyebrows.
“I thought about an IIS version—until I checked the costs. I settled on a more powerful version of the Joyau—when we can afford it.” Van laughed. “If I wanted to get everywhere I’d like to go, I’d need a dreadnought.” He paused. “Did Trystin think about it?”
“That was why he built the Elsin. IIS needed ships powerful enough to take on the Rev corvettes and frigates, but anything larger was cost-prohibitive. Also, it would have been far too obvious.” She studied Van. “What about the
