The Price of Conquest

With a sigh, Jonathan adjusted the pillows behind his back, shifted position on the bed, and gazed around his quarters without actually seeing them.

Little more than four days had passed since the Confederacy decided to leave the next move up to Gaunis, and Jonathan was beginning to regret he ever made the suggestion. Not that there was any better answer. The Confederacy could not afford to respond to such a blatant attempt to force them into rash action.

No, the decision was right. It was the waiting and the wondering that was beginning to get to him. But maybe that was part of Gaunis's plan. Maybe he'd known that any decision the Confederacy made would have its cost, either in lives or sanity.

Jonathan pushed away his despondent thoughts with a self-deprecating frown. Gaunis was not omniscient; he could not plan anything so carefully. No one could. And lounging about, giving the enemy credit for more abilities than he possessed was no way to improve morale, neither his nor his crew's.

The best way to improve things, perhaps the only way, was to get rid of the idleness inflicted on them by their duty to protect Arecia. Fortunately, Mathan would return soon from his hunt for Gaunis to take over the tedious task of Confederate watchdog, allowing Jonathan to search for the High Admiral. And Jonathan would find the bastard, even if Mathan could not.

He was convinced Mathan wouldn't find him, since Mathan still held the opinion that chasing the High Admiral was only asking for trouble. He and Jonathan had "discussed" that before Mathan left, but discussing anything with Captain Caile Mathan was about as productive as yelling at a consteel wall to make it move.

Jonathan shifted position again in a hopeless attempt to get comfortable. He knew he should be trying to sleep, but that luxury had evaded him for well over a day. There was simply too much on his mind, too many unanswered questions, not the least of which was the highly disturbing matter of Emre's disappearance.

No one had seen the th'Maran woman since she left the command meeting the night Stingray One returned from Falira. Admittedly, Emre had been upset when she left and may have wanted to spend some time alone, but four days was more than enough time for someone as level-headed as Emre to work out her troubles. And with the birth of her children drawing so near—

"Captain Westlex?"

Jonathan looked up at the call from the comm. "Westlex here."

"Captain Mathan has come aboard to see you, sir."

Mathan back already? Good. "Any messages?"

"No, sir."

Probably nothing important, then; just by-the-book Mathan reporting his return to his fellow captain. No reason to go meet him.

"Send him to my quarters," he said, finger-combing his hair into a semblance of neatness. "I'll see him here."

"Yes, sir."

Jonathan rolled to his feet, made a halfhearted attempt to straighten his uniform, and then crossed the room to the small, cluttered table that served as dining surface, dresser, desk, and collector of stray objects, depending on his need. A Stingray might be a kilometer long, but space was still at a premium; even her captain got no more than was absolutely necessary to serve his needs.

He scooped a few stray items of clothing from the tabletop, tossed them onto the bed, and then swept the remaining assortment of objects into a pile on the back edge of the table, and took a seat. He switched on the viewer built into the table, called up a recent file, and started to read. Might as well let Mathan think he was doing something constructive, otherwise the man would begin his visit by spouting his opinions of the proper use of a Stingray captain's idle time.

Jonathan had barely enough time to get the gist of what he was reading before the door announcer sounded.

"Come in."

The door slid aside, and Captain Mathan took a single stride into the room, the expression on his bronzed, aristocratic features grim. As usual.

Jonathan smiled a greeting. "Welcome back, Caile. Have a seat." He waved to the chair across the table.

Mathan stepped up to the table, but he did not sit down.

Jonathan looked up at him. "Have any luck out there?"

Mathan gazed around the room with a decidedly authoritarian air. "If you mean to ask whether I located High Admiral Gaunis or any of his colleagues, then the answer is no, I did not have any luck."

Jonathan nodded, not sure he wanted to try to outdo an answer like that. "I see. Then—"

"Was I interrupting something, Captain Westlex?" Mathan perused the wrinkled bedcover and stacked pillows, the pile of discarded clothing, and Jonathan's mussed uniform.

"Just reviewing some reports." He gestured to the screen before him.

Mathan craned his neck to read the title on the file. "The Taasian incident?"

Jonathan glanced at the viewer. "Yeah. Interesting reading. If you're into making planets uninhabitable."

"Have your people discovered what happened there?"

"They think so. Based on the data we collected, it appears that Gaunis used some damned big bombs, er—devices to do his dirty work. The explosions threw tons of debris and excess heat into the air. That's what caused the planet-wide storm. Melted parts of the ice caps and blew away a good chunk of the atmosphere, too. Raised sea levels and released some heavy radiation." He sighed and shifted in his seat. "If Gaunis intended to take a world from us, he couldn't have done a much better job."

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Mathan stood silent for a moment, as if digesting Jonathan's words. Finally, he asked, "What about the Taasian survivors?"

"We've found people to take most of them in. They're doing as well as can be expected, given the circumstances. A couple of them may not make it, and none of them will ever forget. But they're young; they'll heal."

Mathan nodded and his expression grew more stern than usual. "Then you believe their lives were worth it?"

"Worth what?" Jonathan asked, suddenly aware that Mathan was manipulating the conversation in a specific direction, and suspicious of where he was taking it.

"Worth risking your ship."

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "I didn't realize I'd risked my ship."

"You took Stingray One through that storm without knowing what to expect."

"True, but we needed to get readings on what had happened and see if there were any survivors." He paused briefly and met Mathan's eyes. "What would you have done differently?"

"I would have followed procedure," Mathan said. "I would have launched a probe—"

"Which we did."

"—and then I would have sent in a fighter with a reconnaissance package," Mathan finished without pause.

"I considered that," Jonathan said, "but a fighter would've had a hard time making it through that storm."

"Then you had pilots standing by?" Mathan asked in a tone that suggested he not only knew Jonathan had pilots standing by, but also that Jonathan was working himself nicely into whatever verbal trap Mathan had set for him.

Jonathan decided to go along with him to see what the man was working toward. "Yes, ensigns Jaris and Bryant were ready with their ships."

"So you knew who they were."

"Yes, Mathan, I knew who they were," he said, his voice tight.

"And based on that, you decided to take Stingray One down instead."

"Based on—? Mathan, what in hell are you getting at?"

"What I am getting at, Captain Westlex, is that you risked your ship and crew rather than take the chance of losing Bryant and the other pilot."

So that's what he was thinking. Jonathan sighed and threw his hands into the air in a helpless gesture.

"Well, you guessed it, Caile," he said in mock defeat. "You caught me. I'd rather we'd all died, then have to face living without Kressa."

Mathan looked down at him, aghast. "Then you admit—?"

"I'm not admitting anything!" Jonathan dropped his feigned guilty attitude and let some of his real emotions show. "I made the decision based on the facts at hand. Yes, I was aware that Kressa was one of the pilots, and yes, I considered the danger to her and to the other pilot. But the simple fact is there wasn't much of a chance for any fighter to make it, and a very good chance that Stingray One could. I felt it was a risk worth taking. That is how I made my decision."

"Then you claim that emotion had nothing to do with your decision?" Mathan asked.

"Emotion had everything to do with my decision!" Jonathan snapped, only just managing to keep from leaping out of his chair in anger. "Damn it, Mathan, do you have any idea what it's like to come across a world with thousands of people you promised to protect and find it dead, destroyed, the people gone? Let me tell you about emotion!" He paused and drew a deep, calming breath.

"That is not what I meant, Captain," Mathan said quietly.

"I know exactly what you meant, Captain. I let my feelings for Kressa color my judgment. That is what you meant."

Mathan nodded, still calm. "And you're claiming it isn't true? After all, you do have a reputation for reacting emotionally, especially where Bryant is concerned."

"Do I?" Jonathan whispered dangerously, his eyes boring into Mathan's. "According to who?"

"Even before you met Bryant, you fired without provocation on Admiral Shaw's Esprit."

"That was to prevent him from capturing her."

"Exactly."

Jonathan let out a ragged sigh at Mathan's twisted interpretation of the incident.

"Kressa was Teneia's best link to the Guard. If I allowed her to be captured, where might we be today?"

Mathan paused a long time before answering. "Perhaps not fighting a war."

"So that's what this is about, is it?" Jonathan nodded slowly. "It's not about Kressa or what happened at Taas. It's about the war and the fact that I, with my emotional reactions and risk-taking, got you into it."

Mathan glanced away, and Jonathan knew he was getting to the crux of the matter.

"Not just me," Mathan said. "Teneia's fighting the war, too."

Jonathan studied his fellow captain for a long moment. Did someone on Teneia put Mathan up to this? He wouldn't be surprised if that were true. Jonathan did tend to take advantage of the fact that he was the founder's great-grandson and treat Stingray One as if she were his own personal property, regardless of Teneia's grandiose plans for themselves and the rest of the galaxy; he really couldn't blame his Teneian taskmasters if they weren't pleased with his behavior. Still, sending Mathan as their messenger seemed a bit below them. So maybe it was just Mathan's one-man crusade to get Jonathan back in line with Teneia's ideals, but it was a crusade that was going to put himself and his crew in danger, and maybe Jonathan's ship and crew, as well.

"Caile, I know you were upset about not getting command of Stingray One," he said, "and you turned down the chance to be her first officer because someone promised you Two as soon as she was ready. Fine, you've got her now. But you had better realize one thing and realize it now, before you lose your ship—and your life. Relying on procedure and by-the-book tactics is going to get you nowhere but dead."

Mathan started to protest, but Jonathan held up a hand for silence.

"No, wait. Hear me out. This war did not start because I did or did not follow Teneian procedure, or did or did not react emotionally. It started because Teneia and the Free Worlds want something the United Galaxy—no, something Gaunis disagrees with. My choices have simply been one man's reaction to a bad situation. Other choices might have changed the way things are today, for better or for worse, but they would not have stopped the war. Even if we had not decided to reveal our existence and aid the Free Worlds, there would have been war. It just would have been a lot shorter and with a more definite outcome. Still, if you or the Teneian people want me gone, just say the word. I'll turn over the ship, my command, my place in the Confederacy, whatever you want."

Mathan studied him for a long time, his expression one of complex consideration. Finally, he nodded and took the seat Jonathan offered when he first arrived. For several seconds he searched Jonathan's eyes, studying him as if seeing something about his fellow captain for the first time.

"So, what do we do now?" Mathan put a slight emphasis on the word we.

Jonathan gave him a grateful look. "I still think it would be best to find Gaunis and keep track of him," he said carefully, hesitant to resume that battle so soon after calling truce on another. "Maybe he'll give us some hint of what he's up to," he went on when Mathan made no protest. "The problem is, we have to find him first."

"He's at Eminence," Mathan said.

"Do you know that for sure?"

"I haven't been to Eminence to confirm it," Mathan said, "but where else would he go? He needs support from the other admirals, and he's just made a successful, if somewhat lackluster, attack on the Confederacy. He'll want to display his success to the others and try to convince them to join him."

"Then you think we should go after him at Eminence?"

"I think you should go after him at Eminence. Just to keep an eye on him," he added with an almost-smile.

Jonathan gave a real smile. "I believe I'll do that." He stood and started for the door, and then turned back as Mathan rose to follow him. "I'll give him your regards."

Mathan froze in midstride, and then released the smile he had kept under such tight rein and stepped forward to join Jonathan as he moved into the corridor.