Osman had her arms folded on the edge of the chart table, bent right over like someone leaning on their shopping cart to relieve the supermarket tedium. The silence was begging someone to break it again.
“Okay.” Osman straightened up. “Seeing as we’ve tossed and gored this as much as we can for the time being, let’s discuss what’s real y on everyone’s mind. Naomi, I’m going to want absolute proof that this suspect’s your father before I do anything. What did you tel Spenser, Mal?”
Sometimes Naomi could look like a wax model. She was so pale that she was almost translucent at the best of times, but when she was doing her I’m-not-reacting thing, Mal couldn’t even tel if she was breathing.
Vaz chipped in. “I told Spenser who he was, ma’am. I shouldn’t have. I wasn’t thinking.”
“But Spenser agreed to sit on his hands until we got back,” Mal said. “It’s not like there’s anything big going down at the moment. He’s just keeping tabs on them.”
“Did he cal it in to Parangosky?”
“Not while we were there.”
“I would have expected the Admiral to have sent a message before we slipped if she’d been informed,” BB said.
If she’s totally open with Osman, that is. ONI couldn’t move in a straight line if you put it on rails. Maybe she’s waiting to see when Osman decides to tell her. I mean, they’re buddy-buddy, and Oz is the old girl’s favorite, but … she’s Parangosky. She didn’t get to be top spook by going soft on people.
“I’l talk to her when we leave slip,” Osman said. “In the meantime, let’s agree to some ground rules on this. It’s not going to be tidy. Whatever happens, it’s going to hurt someone somewhere down the line. Our priority is to protect Earth by any means necessary, but we have to trust each other to do that.”
“Ma’am, he’s a stranger,” Naomi said. “Don’t change procedure because of me. Handle him like any other suspect.”
“He’s probably a terrorist because he lost you. ” Osman paused as if she thought she’d spoken out of turn. It was probably the worst thing she could point out to Naomi. “You do know that, don’t you? That he never believed the cloned child Halsey swapped you for was his real daughter? He always claimed it was a government conspiracy.”
“Vaz told me,” Naomi said, apparently unmoved. “One day I’l read it for myself.”
“Okay, then we al level with one another about everything. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Osman was stil learning how to end a conversation like that. Mal could see it on her face, al that doubt about the stuff she now had to do. He pitched in to rescue her.
“Wel , seeing as we don’t have our little Huragok chum to mod our kit, we’d better go and see what we can put together for a landing,” he said.
“My money’s stil on the drop pods, but it’s going to be a bugger to exfil, no matter how we insert.”
“Fingers crossed that Hood comes through for us, then,” Osman said. “And now that I’ve embarrassed you al , I’m going to execute a tactical withdrawal and catch up on the signal traffic in my day cabin.”
There was no bul shit with Osman. Mal now ranked eye-watering honesty equal y with competence in his top five list of officer must-haves. BB’s avatar zipped off the bridge in a blur of blue light—not that he had to do the effects to make a point—and the three ODSTs stood in an awkward circle around Naomi.
“Sorry, mate,” Mal said to her. “I’m real y, real y sorry.”
“You’re sure it’s him?”
Vaz squirmed visibly. “I should have taken a copy of the file, but we were in a hurry to get back.”
“Was there a picture?”
“Yes.”
Naomi paused. Mal knew what was coming.
“What does he look like?” she asked.
“He looks like you,” Vaz said innocently. Mal felt the knife turn, even though that was the last thing Vaz would have dreamed of doing to Naomi.
“You’re the image of your dad.”
CHAPTER FOUR
I WANT A HURAGOK TEAM ROUTINELY EMBARKED IN EVERY WARSHIP BY 2557. THIS IS WHAT GAVE THE COVENANT THEIR TECHNICAL SUPERIORITY. NOW IT’S OURS, AND WHEREVER THE REST OF THEIR HURAGOK WENT, EVEN IF THE SANGHEILI REACQUIRE THEM—OURS STILL HAVE THEIR UNIQUE ONYX LEGACY, AND THAT PUTS US WAY AHEAD.
(REAR ADMIRAL SAEED SHAFIQ, UNSC PROCUREMENT)
UNSC PORT STANLEY, APPROACHING SANGHEILI SPACE “Place your bets, mesdames et messieurs, ” BB said. “Faites vos jeux … five, four, three, two…”
Osman tried to ignore her cartwheeling stomach as the ship dropped out of slipspace and the black void in the forward viewscreen was suddenly peppered with stars that hadn’t been there a second before. The status panels on the console showed Port Stanley’s drives and associated systems dropping back from wel into the red zone. BB hadn’t been joking when he said he was going to push the ship past her tested limits.
“There. We’re back.” BB placed himself on Phil ips’s empty seat. “Only two mil ion klicks adrift and five hours earlier than projected. I win. Making OPSNORMAL and running comms checks. Lots of messages waiting, Captain.”
“Wow, BB, did we blow many gaskets?” Devereaux asked, leaning over the control panel. “That was brisk.”
“Nothing we can’t fix with some self-amalgamating titanium strip and lots of genius.”
“Let me know if you need a hand. Because I’d like to live to see thirty-two.”
Osman pushed herself out of her chair and found that she’d now learned to al ow for the twenty or thirty seconds of disorientation on slipspace jumps. I can make myself do anything if I have to. Just tell myself that the whirling isn’t real. I believe me. I do. The ODSTs never seemed to turn a hair, but then anyone who reacted to jumps like she did would never have lasted five minutes as either a pilot or a Hel jumper. A few confused seconds was al it took to crash and burn. Sometimes she felt inadequate beside them.
Naomi never blinked either. But then she was a proper Spartan, not an abandoned project like herself, and she had other distractions that had to be weighing heavily on her mind.
“Anything from Phil ips?” Osman asked.
BB lifted off the seat like a dropship and banked away to the comms console. Now she knew he was uneasy. That was almost an AI equivalent of whistling in the dark.
“I’m afraid not, but there’s one from Hood via Parangosky,” he said. “He’s asked the Arbiter to al ow us to land a search party.”
“And?”
“They’re stil talking. I must say it’s real emotional blackmail stuff. Al about absolving him of moral responsibility if he lets the experts do it.”
Vaz made his disbelief noise, a little hiss of breath. “How to win hinge-head friends. That’l real y piss them off.”
The message flashed onto the main bridge monitor. Osman read the transcript and winced. “I fully understand that there are events over which you have no control. ” Jesus, did Hood know what he was doing? Vaz was right. Sangheili wouldn’t take kindly to a human hinting that they were incompetent and chaotic. On the other hand, Hood did seem to have a way with the Arbiter, and perhaps he’d gambled that letting him off the hook might achieve something.
“He’s just living up to their stereotype of us,” Devereaux said. “They think we’re too cocky so they might as wel let us in just to see us screw it up and then show us how it’s done.”
Naomi perked up. She real y didn’t like being idle. It was stil a massive risk entrusting a squad to Sangheili hospitality, though, and everyone would stand a better chance with a Spartan on board. If there was one thing that freaked out a hinge-head, it was a Spartan. Osman jerked herself out of second-guessing Sangheili motives. She couldn’t, and it was too late anyway. Hood had interceded.
“Okay. I’m going to talk to the Admiral. What time is it for her, BB?”
“Just after three, Captain. She’s stil on her Infinity inspection. Zulu time.”
“Flash her for me, would you?”
“I already took the liberty. She’s standing by for a cal .”
“Try to get hold of ‘Telcam, too.”
“Do we let him know we’re aware that he made contact with Phil ips?”
“I’l decide when I hear what he’s got to say for himself.”
Phil ips, ‘Telcam, and the whole shebang could easily have been a pile of hamburger by now, of course. But Osman stil had to confirm that.
I should be more upset about Phillips. I’m going to tell myself that the reason I’m not is because I believe he’s alive. I’d hate to think I was that relaxed about losing a crew member.
“Patch the Admiral through to my day cabin,” she said. “And take us in close enough to monitor Sanghelios.”
So much for transparency: she could have had the conversation on the bridge, but old habits took awhile to die. With just five people and an AI rattling around a warship designed for a hundred, she didn’t have an excuse. As she sat down at her desk and positioned herself in front of the screen, she found her mind suddenly ful of al the things she chose not to know, and those she was happy not to be told, and wondered again if she’d be up to Parangosky’s job when the day final y came.
Her own personal file was sitting in the system, ready to tel her as much unhappy stuff about herself as Naomi had discovered about her own background. It wasn’t so much gnawing at her as starting to nibble around the edges.
Phillips. Don’t forget this is about Phillips. Poor bastard. He didn’t sign up for this. We’ve got to retrieve him.
“Ready, BB,” she said. The screen came to life, a narrow frame showing a dimly lit corner of a warship that could have been any in the fleet.
Parangosky was hunched over folded arms, frowning.
“Hel o, ma’am,” Osman said. “I see Admiral Hood’s been exerting the proverbial diplomatic pressure.”
“He stil is. ‘Vadam didn’t dismiss him out of hand, either. You’re standing off Sanghelios now, yes?”
“We’re going to five hundred thousand klicks to do a survey orbit. In case we need to insert without permission.”
Parangosky didn’t blink. “I’ve sent you al the intel we’ve col ated since you lost contact with Phil ips. We’re pretty blind out there now—no Spenser, and no Covenant relays left to intercept. Almost makes you miss the war, doesn’t it?”
“That’s top of the shopping list, then.” Osman was getting a better picture day by day of the way ONI would have to adapt to the new galactic order. “The more fragmented things get, the more we need to expand our network of sources.”
“Our only window on Sanghelios at the moment is the Arbiter, and he says fighting’s broken out in a number of cities.”
“Perhaps it’s best to suggest he’s too busy to look for Phil ips. Fine by me.”
“I’m not being cal ous, but it would be very useful to monitor the situation as wel as finding the professor. If this is the revolution, we don’t want anyone winning outright, after al .”
“When you say monitor … you mean hands-on assistance.”
“I mean a route into both sides of the argument, but it might require more than just supplying hardware.”
“Wel , BB’s trying to track down ‘Telcam, so when that happens I’l have a much clearer picture.”
“Probably best to hold your position until Hood’s satisfied that he’s done al he can with the Arbiter.” Parangosky glanced over her shoulder at something Osman couldn’t see. “On a slightly different tack, the first opportunity I get, I’l be sending you some help. Would you like your Huragok back?”
“Adj? Oh, he’l be very handy. Thank you.”
“Adj and a friend, Forerunner-enriched. It’s more than handy, Captain—I’m sending them to retrofit Stanley with completely accurate slipspace navigation and instant comms.”
Osman knew about the navigation refinements, but being able to communicate from slipspace was even better as far as she was concerned.
“No more lobbing bottles over the side?”
“Just for the lucky few at the moment. Al this is going to transform the battlefield.”
Damn right it would. Warships would not only know exactly where they’d emerge and when, but they’d also arrive with the benefit of real-time information. It was like the invention of steam power and the radio al at once. Working with Huragok was something of a mystery tour, but it was worth the uncertainty, rather like a birthday.
I’ve never had one of those. Not a real one.
“When the dust settles on the current task, I’l look forward to that.”
“Is everything al right, Serin?”
There was no hiding anything from Parangosky. She was more than sharp: she was just like a mother, or what Osman imagined a mother would be. “We have a few issues, ma’am,” Osman said. “The first of Halsey’s chickens have come home to roost.”
“I had a feeling that would happen before too long.”
“You know what’s in Naomi’s file.”
“Of course.”
“Has Mike briefed you?”
“No.”
Wel , that was something. “Her father’s alive, living on Venezia, and Mike’s keeping tabs on him—”
Parangosky interrupted her before she had the chance to explain, as if she didn’t want to be told the details. “Is this something you’re happy to deal with on your own, or do you want me to get involved?”
“I’d like to be al grown up and try to resolve it myself.”
