Excerpts

            ADMIRAL excerpt for FIRST TO READ                 Chapter One                 There were voices.                 "An admiral? Is this a joke?" one of the voices said.                 "It's the seal. Look at this. I think someone's done something to it."                 "Is he alive?"                 "This isn't even our ship ."                 "He's breathing. I have him."                 I was distracted from the pain wracking my body by a pair of soft lips on mine, and a rush of welcome, secondhand oxygen. The kindness didn't last. A         powerful fist smashed into my sternum.                 The hand drew back for another blow, but I managed to grab the wrist and hold it. I didn't need to be hit again.                 Coughing, I opened my eyes just to shut them again. There were three lights blinding me. I released the wrist, then slowly sat up and groaned. Someone         backed away from me. The deck was cold, and the air didn't taste right.                 I opened one eye and squinted up. Three people stood over me. Two young women, one young man. They wore only service-issue undergarments. Like me, they         must have just come out of their sleepers.                 I had no circulation in my limbs. My mouth was dry. The world was skipping frames, and my mind was stumbling to catch up. Sleepers were good at         shutting down brain function; they weren't as good at bringing it back. I could feel my heart twitching in a way that I didn't particularly like,         though the sleeper wasn't to blame for that.                 I felt like a dead man. I'd had bad wake-ups before, but nothing like this. Apart from a few readouts, the sleeper bay was completely dark. No lights,         no emergency lights. Tangled as my head was, I knew that couldn't be right.                 The deck was metal, and not especially clean. I could feel an aggressive nonslip pattern of ridges under my palm. That was unexpected.                 "What's happening?" I asked, rubbing at my eyes and trying to make myself focus. It was as if I had all the negative effects of ethanol poisoning, but         none of its perks. Every part of my brain was struggling except my memory. "Where are we?"                 The three exchanged looks.                 "Undetermined, sir." That came from the shorter of the two females. The tall one watched me suspiciously, and the young man looked like he was trying         to wake up from a bad dream. I knew exactly how he felt.                 "Did you pull me?"                 "You were showing warning lights. Something's wrong with this unit," the young man said, tapping the sleeper's plastic shield. "The power's gone, sir."                 "Thank you." That was why these three had their hand-lights. My thoughts weren't so jumbled that I didn't know they'd just saved my life by getting me         out of that sleeper.                 I didn't know where we were, but it wasn't Payne Station. The paralysis was wearing off. I wanted to close my eyes and lie back down.                 So I got to my feet, wobbling only a little. I reached up, touching my hair. It was short. I'd already known that; I was just checking.                 The taller of the two women was eye to eye with me, and I'm nearly two meters. The look she was giving me wasn't particularly friendly.                 I rubbed my face, finding stubble. I shook my head and considered the three young people, thinking fast.                 I eyed the young man. "Are you a tech?"                 He nodded. "Ensign Nils. Trainee."                 "Trainee?"                 "Graduate, sir."                 I looked them over, trying to understand. "All of you?"                 "Yes, sir," they replied as one.                 Evagardian trainees. All graduates. I sort of waved my hand at them.                 "And you're all going to the Julian ."                 "Yes, sir." Nice chorus.                 "First assignment?"                 "Yes, sir."                 I pinched the bridge of my nose and groaned. They politely just stood there, staring at me. We were all shivering.                 I pulled myself together and tried to look as though I was in control of my life. How had these three gotten onto a ship transporting me? I took a deep         breath to keep my temper under control.                 "Relax," I told the trainees, who were standing stiffly, all earnest propriety. Giving their military customs and courtesies their all, insofar as they         could in their underwear. I waved at them again. "You're not in uniform." I frowned. "But I suppose you ought to be. Get dressed."                 They shifted uncomfortably, and I realized that without power they couldn't access the lockers on their sleepers.                 Nils cleared his throat. "Sir?"                 I turned on him. He had a little muscle that he probably hadn't had before service training. He embodied every tech cliché, so he couldn't really be         anything else. He was pale, and a little twitchy.                 Then again, so was I.                 "What?"                 He panned his light over the ceiling, showing hard lines and rough, gray metal. "Sir, this is a Commonwealth vessel. Ganraen."                 "I doubt that." I rubbed at my sore joints, swearing internally.                 "Sir,"         the tall girl said, very firmly. "The engineering markings are all here." She used her own light to show me a faded plaque on the bulkhead. It was the         emblem of the Ganraen Royal Trade Commission, and a map of the deck.                 Well, it was pretty hard to argue with that.                 "Yes, it's Ganraen built ," I said, looking around. These graduates couldn't have been intended to revive on this vessel. How had this         happened? It wasn't just the wake-up. It wasn't the state of my health, or my malfunctioning brain. Something was very wrong here.                 The tall one didn't seem to like me much. I'd been conscious for only a minute; what could I have possibly done? The disapproving look on her face         looked so at home that maybe it wasn't personal. She had that kind of face, the kind where you thought that maybe the fierce scowl was the default         setting.                 "What's your name?" I asked her.                 "Lieutenant Deilani reports as ordered, Admiral."                 "Admiral?" I blinked, taken aback. Making a point of looking bland, she panned her light past me. Indeed, my sleeper had all the right markings. There         was an Imperial Admiral's crest, plain as day.                 "I'll be damned," I said, gazing at it. "I've been promoted. Drinks for everyone. Especially me." It was time to change the subject, and I addressed         Lieutenant Deilani. "What's your area?"                 I was curious; I'd met a few young officers over the years, and kids with brand-new commissions usually didn't run around with chips on their shoulders         like hers. It struck me as a little ungrateful.                 "Bio, sir."                 I pictured this young woman bossing people around a medbay and decided she'd be good at it.                 The third trainee was standing at parade rest. Unlike the other two, who had standard service haircuts, her hair had not been cut recently. There was         only one way someone in the Service could dodge the haircut, and that was to need that hair for ceremonial or culturally significant purposes. That         meant this shorter girl probably came from a tiered bloodline, a family whose genes were considered valuable.                 She was pretty. Not gorgeous, but she was natural. She hadn't augmented herself that I could see. She hadn't tweaked her complexion or done anything         too obvious to her features.                 She did have that aristocratic poise, though.                 "Name?"                 "Salmagard."                 "What do you do, Lieutenant? If you don't mind saying?"                 "Private, sir." She was staring at me with the same interest I was getting from Deilani, but with none of the animosity. Her voice was soft and         musical.                 I stared back at her, not sure I'd heard correctly. And I didn't like the way she was looking at me. It wasn't hostility on her face, but there was an         intensity in her dark eyes that made me uncomfortable.                 I could see the gears turning in her mind.                 And the tall one--Deilani--now looked even more threatening. I forced myself to focus.                 Salmagard was an enlisted aristocrat? Was that even allowed? I'd never heard of them doing that. Aristocrats were supposed to be a big part of the         Imperial Service's officer corps; there was a long tradition of it. I'd never given it any thought, but if someone from one of these families couldn't         pass officer aptitudes, didn't they usually just find another career?                 I didn't know. And I didn't know the first thing about Private Salmagard, but I had a feeling she wasn't the type to fail anything she didn't want to         fail.                 This was a lot of strangeness to wake up to.                 Maybe this was why Ensign Nils seemed so lost.                 "Sorry," I said, smiling at her. "I wouldn't have guessed."                 "I'm in negotiations, sir."                 Maybe she was kidding. No, she didn't seem like the type, not at a time like this. Why not? Why wouldn't she be a negotiator? It looked like         this was that kind of day.                 Was it day?                 I focused. The glare from the hand-lights was hurting my eyes. Salmagard's placid mask was perfect. She wasn't letting anything slip out, not a trace         of individuality. Her eyes were still fixed on me.                 I'd known Nils was a tech by looking at him. What did Salmagard look like?                 Well, she looked a bit like a real negotiator. Like, a real, actual one. One that talked to people.                 But I wasn't sure Evagard actually had those.                 She wasn't kidding. And she recognized me. The other two didn't, but Salmagard did.                 I kept my bearing. It wasn't as though this was the first time my life hadn't gone as planned.                 "All right," I said, blinking.                 I took Nils' light and studied the markings on the plaque. The graduates were correct. This was a Ganraen vessel refitted by the Evagardian Empire, and         I was pretty sure it was Captain Tremma's freighter. And Tremma wouldn't leave his passengers to wake up alone in the dark without a word.                 The deck under my bare toes told me something was off about the gravity, but we weren't in motion. If we were having a power failure, we were lucky to         have gravity at all.                 That was assuming this gravity was artificial. What if it wasn't? Were we in dock? Landed?                 "Admiral?" Nils pressed, looking uncertain. I'd been lost in my thoughts. There was something wild in his eyes. These circumstances were well outside         his comfort zone.                 "Right," I said, waking up. They were looking to me for answers, or at least guidance. Admiral indeed. The sleeper bay was freezing cold; I needed to         get these three dressed and out of here. I opened my locker, which I'd never locked in the first place, and rummaged through my bag, coming up with a         folding knife.                 I flicked it open and knelt by the nearest sleeper, motioning Nils over. "Put your light on that. Right here." He did so. I ran my fingers lightly over         the plastic, found the spot I was looking for, and gave it a sharp strike with the handle of the knife. The trainees were bewildered. They'd probably         never even seen a metal knife outside a museum. They'd been trained with lighter and stronger synthetic blades. Or at least, one of them had. Maybe the         lieutenant too--imperial officer courses were supposed to have a token close combat component.                 But Deilani didn't need a knife. She had those bony elbows. And that look she was giving me.                 It wasn't working. I whacked the panel again. "Did they change it?" I rubbed my chin. The stubble was killing me. It had to go. "It's supposed to pop         right off." Well, it wasn't supposed to--but I'd broken into lockers before. It wasn't a difficult task; I should've been able to do this in my         sleep.                 I was still misfiring, and the look Deilani was giving me wasn't getting any warmer.                 This wasn't working. I sighed and got up, going to the bay door. Just in time, I remembered there was no power, and grabbed the handle instead of         hitting the palm switch. The rubber grip was cool to the touch, but the hatch didn't budge. I adjusted my grip, planted my feet, and put my back into         it. Nothing.                 I blew out my breath and drew back, shaking my sore hands. It was obviously stuck.                 "Well," I said. "This is awkward."                 "Permit me, sir." Private Salmagard stepped past me, taking a firm grip on the handle. Surprised, I stepped aside. I'd been about to ask Nils for a         hand.                 Salmagard wrenched the hatch open, letting in a blast of icy cold. The air in the corridor wasn't much warmer than that in the bay, and it was also         pitch black.                 Salmagard stepped aside, bowing her head.                 I cleared my throat. "Thank you, Private." I listened. There was no sound.                 I'd never experienced a completely silent ship before. The only systems running were auxiliaries with their own power supplies, like sleeper readouts.         This lack of sound wasn't peaceful or calming; it was terrifying. Something was catastrophically wrong. When your ship is on emergency power,         you're in trouble. When your ship hasn't got any power at all, if you're not dead, you will be soon.                 I went back into the bay. "We're in trouble." I took my pistol from the locker, and both Deilani and Nils took a step back with wide eyes. It probably         wasn't every day they saw an unsecured weapon on a spacecraft.                 "That's not service issue," Nils said. He probably didn't mean to say it aloud.                 "We need to hurry. There's no life support," I told him. "But if this is the ship I think it is, there's still plenty of air." I took aim. "Why would         you lock your personals on a transfer to the Julian ? Nobody's going to steal from imperial sleepers." I shot the lock, and Nils' locker sprang         open. I freed the other two as well. The Empress could bill me. Everyone went to their lockers and got dressed.                 Deilani wore an officer's white shipboard fatigues. That uniform couldn't be much fun to maintain, but she'd done a nice job with it. Salmagard's black         negotiator's fatigues were every bit as impeccable as Deilani's whites. In contrast, Nils' tech uniform was rumpled, and his rank insignias were         crooked, but even Evagardian techs aren't realistically expected to be in regs. Some things were the same no matter where you went.                 They were all staring at me again, or rather at my clothes.                 "What? You can't expect me to wear my dress whites when I'm traveling," I said, straightening my somewhat shabby jacket, as though that could hide some         of the holes, stains, and scorches.                 It had been a long time since I'd dressed this way. It felt good. Alien, but good.                 "At least you don't have to salute me like this. Let's find out what's going on." I took the emergency hand-light off my sleeper, slung my pitiful bag         of belongings over my shoulder, and went into the corridor, shining the light around.                 I tried to focus. I was almost afraid to look at Private Salmagard. I wasn't misreading the way she was looking at me; I wasn't that lucky. She thought         she knew who I was, but she still hadn't said anything. It wasn't enough to act calm--until I knew what was going on, I had to be calm.                 I let out a long breath, looking down the narrow corridor. It had been a long time since I'd been aboard this ship.                 These old Ganraen freighters were some of the ugliest ships in existence. Dark, cramped, all metal and sharp edges. Everything was gray, except for         where things had rusted to brown. There were handholds all over in case of a gravity loss. I imagined trying to navigate these rusty, jagged corridors         in zero-g, and shuddered at the thought. A ship like this would be a death trap without gravity. Would it kill these guys to add a little padding?                 On the bright side, the ship would be even uglier with the lights on.                 "What is it, sir?" Nils asked. "What is this ship?"                 "Ganraen cargo freighter," I told him, still staring into the gloom. "Privateer class, maybe? I don't know."                 "How did we get on it?" Deilani demanded.                 "I could guess," I said. "But I don't think you'd like it."                 Fresh graduates on their way to their first assignment expected to be flown around the galaxy in the Empire's latest ships, not whatever bucket         happened to be going in the right direction. It didn't matter because they were asleep in any case, but I didn't want to spoil their illusions. On a         ship this size there was a lot of air, but we still needed to get a move on.                 "Captain Tremma should be on the bridge." I looked at Nils. "This is his ship. I think. You've studied Ganraen spacecraft, haven't you?"                 "Yes, sir. Extensively." There was a note of pride there. Nils seemed like the type to know ships.                 "This one's been refitted to meet Evagardian specs, but it's probably still more or less recognizable. Where do you think we are in relation to the         bridge?"                 He considered it, gazing down the unlit corridor. A moment passed.                 "Sir, this is an old ship, and I don't recognize the layout. But big Ganraen ships always launch from the stern," he said, shrugging.                 And sleepers were kept near escape craft so disoriented passengers wouldn't have to be shepherded far to reach safety. Nils thought we were on a lower         deck near the stern, and that felt right.                 "Sounds legit. We need to go up." The lifts were useless without power, but there were plenty of old-fashioned ladders.                 We traversed the freighter, the trainees trailing me obediently. Whatever their feelings on the plausibility of my impressive promotion, no one else         was taking the lead. Deilani was struggling with that, but we were all confused, and we all wanted to know what was going on.                 It was a long walk from one end of the ship to the other, made even longer because I didn't know where I was going. Our lights showed us nothing but         Ganraen corridor after Ganraen corridor. They all looked alike, and they were all stiflingly tight. Loose grating rattled underfoot every time we         crossed a maintenance hatch.                 There were safety covers on the deck that weren't even secured with magnets.                 Now I was really hoping the gravity would hold. This ship was a death trap. Maybe we were lucky it didn't have power.                 I preferred Evagardian ship design. The Ganraens built utilitarian vessels, but even the newer ones came out looking grim, even sinister, and Tremma's         freighter was not new. Panels were missing from bulkheads, exposing piping and circuitry. The ship was well maintained, but it wasn't always easy for         Tremma to get his hands on Ganraen materials, even during peacetime.                 If we looked in the engine room we'd find half of everything jury rigged, or just broken down and neglected.                 That was my guess about all of this--that we'd simply broken down. What I didn't understand was where Tremma was hiding. He should've turned up minutes         after the sleepers spat out the trainees, power or no power. There was no positive reading for this situation.                 As we clanked through the dark, empty corridors, my apprehension grew.                 Once we found the arterial corridor that ran the vessel's full length, it was simple enough to follow it to the bridge. We had to pry open the hatch,         and the graduates' surprise was obvious. The rest of the ship had led them to expect a Ganraen cockpit: a cramped space with three consoles for three         Ganraen flight officers, but what they got was a minimalist Evagardian command bridge.                 It was a spacious chamber with five consoles, and panoramic viewports, which were currently as dark as everything else. The floor and bulkheads were         white and clean. With the way I was feeling, the padded chairs looked inviting. The bridge was modern and luxurious compared to the rest of the ship.                 It was also deserted. My light fell on an old-fashioned cup on the floor, and a dark stain. I knelt to touch it. Dry.                 I sank into the command chair.                 I was thirsty. Hungry too. So were the others. I pointed at the control chair beside mine, realized how imperious I looked, and made the gesture a         little less flamboyant. Trying to sound appropriately military, I issued my first order. "Ensign," I said to Nils. "Dismantle that so we can get at the         power cell." I tossed him my knife and leaned back to think. An encouragingly short amount of time passed before I heard him get to work.                 He was what, twenty? And Salmagard was about the same age. Deilani might be a year or two older; she would've had more training. This was a charming         start to their careers.                 "What could cause the gravity to feel this way?" I asked after a moment, not opening my eyes. I couldn't do this alone. I wasn't up to it. I needed the         trainees to pull their weight.                 "The gravity drive could still be spinning down from the power loss, sir." That was a good answer, but Nils was wrong. This felt different.                 "It's not that," I said. "I wish it was. But we'd be able to feel it in this ship."                 "Suppose we're adrift in the belt," Deilani said, running a hand over one of the consoles. "The interference could account for it . . . sir," she         added, a little too deliberately. It wasn't petulance or haughtiness in her voice, it was open dislike. I still didn't know what I'd done to offend         her. I understood that meeting such a young admiral struck her as odd, but didn't we have bigger problems?                 "Not that, either." Her theory wasn't out of the question, but the odds were too slim. "The belt isn't even on the way," I mused. "But what is?"                 "When were we transferred from the personnel carrier, sir?" That came from Salmagard. She had a lovely voice. There was no hint of accusation in her         words. Her face was calm. No hidden meaning. It was just a question. She wasn't giving me a knowing look.                 She knew, though. I could feel it.                 "I'd like to know that too. I guess you came from Marragard?" I eyed their rank insignias.         Marragard was where imperial servicemen were gathered for graduation from the most prestigious academies, and only the best would be assigned to the        Julian . "Then we must've picked you up on the Demenis side. So Tremma probably picked you up at Burton Station. That's only two hops to Payne         Station. Safe route."                 Deilani narrowed her eyes. "Why are we taking the long way?"                 I realized that Salmagard wasn't playing dumb for me, she was doing it because Deilani was better off curious than burdened by the truth. I tried to         rally, thinking of an answer for the lieutenant. I had nothing.                 "I know why I'm taking it. Why you're taking it--that's not a bad question," I said. "I'm guessing your ride had a failure of some         kind, and Tremma happened to be there at the right time. Someone decided to move you along to keep to schedule. Can't keep the Julian at Payne         Station forever."                 The Julian was the Evagardian Empire's brand-new flagship. Supposedly the greatest warship ever built. The Empress herself was said to be         aboard her now, overseeing the second leg of her maiden voyage. After her next tour, the Julian would continue to be seen at major trade hubs         and high-traffic stations, an unmistakable reminder of the Empress' absolute military superiority after the Empire's crushing victory over the Ganraen         Commonwealth.                 And these three had been assigned to her. That meant they were good; personnel selection for the pride of the armada had to be especially rigorous.                 I was hoping to reach the Julian as well, just not for the same reasons. Salmagard was no longer discreetly watching me. The fact that she         wasn't sharing her conclusions with Deilani at least hinted that she'd drawn some of the right ones. I was lucky that Salmagard was there. This was all         very strange, and I wasn't at my best. I needed a friend.                 The route Tremma had been taking . . . Well, we could be anywhere. Thinking about it made my head hurt worse.                 "You're very young for an admiral, sir."                 I looked up at Deilani. "I know," I told her.                 "I've got it, Admiral." Nils sounded pleased with himself. His timing was good.                 I got up and went over to him. "I'll take it from here. Get that panel off, uncover the ports."                 Nils gave me a look that was half suspicion, half admiration. He'd guessed what I had in mind.                 The energy cell was used to power the mechanisms that physically moved the chair when a vessel was under fire, adjusting as the ship shakes and rolls         so the commander doesn't lose concentration. I tossed the cell to Nils, who knew exactly what to do. In minutes he had power running to the console.                 I was hoping the computer would have something to say about the state of the ship. Not that I knew how to ask. "If you would," I said, motioning Nils         into the chair.                 Deilani was staring at my hand.                 "What?"                 "You have very courtly manners, Admiral." She sort of wiggled her hand. "Can you teach me to do that?"                 Next time I'd just point.                 "Nils," I prodded, turning away from her without a reply. The ensign looked uncertain, but game. There was no doubt he knew his way around ship systems         better than I did. It was time to get answers.                 The system was running in its most basic emergency mode, so Nils had to physically enter data with his fingers, which he was impressively good at.                 "Something's wrong with it," he reported immediately. "Sir," he added hastily.                 I was so different from the officers these three had been exposed to that they just couldn't see me as one. My lack of uniform didn't help, and neither         did my sudden promotion to admiral. It probably didn't seem believable to them, but that crest on my sleeper was hard to argue with. Deilani wanted to         argue; I had a feeling she just wasn't sure how to go about it. We were all off-balance.                 But someone had to take charge, and my gut told me I was a better choice than Lieutenant Deilani, at least for now.                 "The system's corrupted," Nils said.                 "How?"                 He shook his head. "I don't know, sir. I can't do anything with it."                 "Is there damage to the ship?"                 "I wouldn't know how to check with this," he said, a bit sheepishly. "Not without at least basic protocols running." He looked over his shoulder at me.         "Sir, I want to try to get emergency power online."                 "Won't do any good if the reactor's damaged," Deilani pointed out. She wasn't even looking at Nils. She was looking at me. She was always         looking at me. It wasn't like I'd never been stared at before, but this was starting to wear me down.                 "I don't think it is. I don't think there's any damage to the ship," Nils replied. "Anything that would knock out the power, then fail-safe         the sleepers, would set off hit-confirm protocols--but the zero-g handles and oxygen masks in the corridors hadn't been deployed, and neither had the         automatic sealant. There's no sign out there or in here that anything's hit us. Even just a small meteor would put us on breach alert, but there hasn't         been anything."                 I         should have noticed that.                 "You're right," I said, grateful to have the ensign there. "If you think you can get power, do it." I turned to Salmagard and Deilani. "There should be         an executive escape craft near the bridge--find it and get a survival pack. We're all dehydrated, and I don't want to have to go banging on pipes yet."                 I wasn't kidding myself; giving Deilani something to do wouldn't make her happy, but I couldn't think with her here, trying to glare her way through my         skull.                 Salmagard looked pleased by the order, and Deilani appeared faintly annoyed. "Go on. Don't act like you're not thirsty too," I said, turning back to         Nils. They took their lights and left the bridge to search. At least Deilani didn't argue.                 "I'm not coming up with much, sir. I've never seen an Evagardian system so crippled."                 "No pressure. But we might be dead if you don't figure it out."                 He gave me a funny look. "One idea," he said. "This ship has been refitted and repurposed with our tech. There might be a power supply that I         can tap to run provisional functions temporarily."                 "How long is temporarily?"                 "Depends on how much we use it, sir."                 "Case by case? What source?"                 "If I'm reading this correctly, there's a shuttle."                 "Ah." I thumped my fist into my open palm. "I should've thought of that. But there should be more than one on a ship like this."                 "There's only one that I can reroute here and now."                 "Odd. Could we do it manually?"                 Nils shook his head. "That would be a lot more complicated than swapping an energy pack," he said, eyeing the bundle of wires on the console beside         him.                 The shuttle's cells wouldn't be enough to move the ship, but they would get the computers running for a while, and maybe even air recycling.                 "Sounds good," I said.                 "Wait a minute, sir. If we use that power it's going to leave the shuttle useless."                 He had a point--we didn't know where we were. The ship was crippled. The shuttle might be our only way off the freighter. If we were near         something, escape craft would be enough, but if we weren't . . . I started to laugh.                 "Go ahead and use the shuttle," I said, dropping back into the command chair. I slouched down, gazing at the ceiling. "We can't use it in any case. How         would we get the bay doors open? How would we cycle the airlocks? We couldn't get to it. We definitely couldn't launch it."                 Nils blanched, then did as I told him. Emergency lights came on. The ship was no longer black now, just dim. I let out my breath, staring at the light         overhead. It wasn't much, but at least we weren't completely dead in the cosmos.                 "I'm not going to run the lights on the whole ship," Nils was saying. "Only where the motion sensors are tripped."                 "Fine. See if there's anyone else moving." Now I'd find out where Tremma was. And after that, where we were.                 "Can't, sir. I'm locked out of security."                 "Are you serious?" I didn't understand. I sat up in my chair, turning to look at him. "How did it get this way?" Nils just shook his head. "Well, turn         on the viewport."                 "That I can do." He fiddled with the console for only a moment before the large screens came to life. I got to my feet, watching the feeds light up. I         stepped back, and the blood drained from the ensign's face. It would have been good to see a star formation, or Payne Station. Or another ship. A         recognizable system, anything. But all I saw was shifting patterns of dark, sickly green.                 We weren't adrift. We were on a planet . That explained the gravity.                 I swore quietly. Nils continued to stare, dumbstruck. And yet--this was not as bad as if we'd seen empty space, which was what I'd been fearing.                 "What is it?" Nils squinted at the feeds.                 "I don't know. Raise the screens," I said. Nils did so. We looked out through the transparent carbon shield at the green mist. It was lighter here than         it had been on the screens.                 "We're in atmosphere," Nils said, licking his lips.                 "Yeah, but whose?"                         Chapter Two                 I was on a dead ship on an unknown planet with three trainees freshly graduated into the Imperial Service.                 I tried to look on the bright side.                 We were somewhere. That was a relief. It was better than floating with no power in space. Wherever this planet was, it raised our chances of rescue         from zero to more than zero.                 Nils couldn't determine our location. He could get at only the most basic functions, and most of those only by improvised means. I was still impressed;         he knew what he was doing, even with a broken system that was barely giving us ones and zeroes to work with.                 We were coming to grips with how limited our options were when Deilani and Salmagard returned. I could tell that Salmagard hadn't shared her thoughts         on me with Deilani, because the lieutenant was just as surly and suspicious as before.                 They had located a survival kit, and even imperial field rations tasted good under the circumstances. It was surreal to be having a field ration picnic         with imperial trainees on the bridge of a ship stranded on a planet that we had no means to identify.                 As bizarre as our predicament was, at least we could all agree on one thing: we didn't know where this rock was, but we needed to get off of it. Even         Deilani couldn't argue with that.                 The question was, how would we do that? With the combiners off-line, the only food on the ship was in the survival packs. Fortunately, there were         probably enough of those aboard to last a while, if it came to that. There was water too, which would be reachable if we could find some tools.                 Air was the immediate problem. Nils had gotten the recyclers running, but he hadn't been able to localize them. Running life support for the entire         freighter would deplete our shuttle's cells in no time at all, and that was all the power we had. Life support had to stay off, but we were still in a         better place than we had been half an hour ago. My mind was starting to pull itself together, and clear thinking wasn't making our situation look any         less serious.                 The trainees were almost finished eating. They weren't panicking, but I had a feeling that was only because I wasn't panicking. Ships weren't made to         exist, much less function, without their computers.                 I had to find out how we'd ended up in this fix. My sleeper malfunctioning? Well, that was one thing. But Tremma's absence? That alarmed me.         The ship seemingly intact, but the computer in digital tatters? I didn't have an explanation. I didn't even have a guess.                 The three graduates weren't speaking. They didn't know one another. They had never met before; they just happened to be assigned to the same ship. This         was even less comfortable for them than it was for me. Nils didn't even know how to deal with Lieutenant Deilani, much less an admiral. Even         Salmagard's natural grace couldn't smooth it out for the three of them.                 Deilani hadn't taken her eyes off me. I wasn't naive enough to think that I could ignore her forever, but I hoped she wouldn't become a serious         problem, at least not until we'd gotten out of this mess.                 Salmagard gazed at the swirling green mist outside. I watched her, trying to read her, but not getting anywhere.                 She looked a little familiar, but I knew we'd never met.                 She could be thinking anything, but I remembered the way she'd looked at me when I'd just come out of my sleeper. If she had recognized me,         she was determined to keep quiet.                 I felt queasy. I needed her to give me something.                 Nils was grim, but not too grim. He knew how bad off we were, but he was playing it cool. Maybe he was too proud to look dejected in front of         Salmagard. From what I'd heard about the Imperial Service academies, I was surprised they hadn't managed to stamp the impulse to impress a pretty girl         out of him. Maybe the rumors were exaggerated.                 Time to take charge. I was an admiral now.                 "Admiral," Deilani said, still watching me.                 "Yes, Lieutenant?"                 "Which fleet do you command?"                 "I don't command any," I replied. "It's an honorary title. Obviously."         Her eyes narrowed. Deilani wasn't stupid. To have gotten into bio with a commission and overachieved to the point that she was assigned to the        Julian , Deilani had to have drive and intelligence off the charts. It didn't take a genius to see that I didn't add up.                 But I needed her to stop worrying about me, and focus on more pressing issues.                 I cleared my throat. "If Captain Tremma's on this ship, he's either dead or locked up. And I don't think he's locked up. We need to find out what         happened to him and his pilot officer."                 "Isn't two a small crew for a ship this size?" Deilani continued to scrutinize me. She'd latched on. She wasn't going to let go until she got what she         wanted. She must have been a terror in the classroom.                 It was a good question, but it probably wasn't in my best interests to answer it. "It's a Ganraen ship," I pointed out instead.                 "Right." Nils nodded. Deilani looked puzzled.                 "Androids," he told her. "Or maybe just AI and automated systems. They use that stuff a lot more than we do. But none of it's functioning because the         system's down."                 Not exactly true, but it would do for now.                 They were more or less finished eating. "They're expecting us at Payne Station. The Julian won't wait forever. Let's find Tremma and get out         of here," I said, waving at the viewports, and the mist beyond. "I've got places to be. And this place gives me the creeps."                 "Where do we look, sir?" Deilani arched an eyebrow at me.                 I returned her look, praying for patience. It was a fair question. The ship was enormous. A big Ganraen freighter like this was shaped roughly like an         oblong box. The sheer amount of space inside it was staggering. We didn't have the time or supplies to just look around and hope for the best. And my         patience with Deilani wouldn't last that long.                 "I'm still thinking about that, Lieutenant. Would you be able to pull a log off an airlock console?" I asked Nils.                 "I think so, sir."                 "Let's see if any of the personnel loaders have cycled," I suggested. If Tremma wasn't on the ship, I was curious to know what might've made him feel         the need to leave.                 "I may be able to do that from here once the system's reset, sir."                 "What we really need is a map."                 "I'll see about that too, sir."                 "Nils, I'm glad you're here."                 "Thank you, sir."                 "Admiral," Deilani said, hands on hips.                 "Yes, Lieutenant?"                 "Which academy did you graduate from?"                 I felt my temper begin to rise, and stifled it. She wasn't taking the hint.                 Salmagard was taking care of the plastic wrappers from the field rations, and our empty water bottles, packing them back into the survival kit. She was         listening to every word, but she didn't so much as look in my direction.                 "Rothschild," I lied, giving Deilani a tired look.                 "So did I, sir."                 She was baiting me. Salmagard continued to ignore us. Nils didn't care; he just wanted to get through the day. Why couldn't I have gotten three of him?                 I felt a sudden contraction behind my eyes.                 "Oh, dear." I looked down to find my hands trembling.                 There were three pairs of eyes on me.                 "Are you all right, sir?" Nils asked, cocking his head.                 "We're in trouble. Get on there," I said, pointing at the console. "Find me a map. Playtime's over."                 "Yes, sir."                 I got up and stepped away. If I dealt with this now, it was going to be pretty obvious. And slipping away would be just as bad. I had to wait. I took         some shaky breaths.                 "Admiral?"                 " Yes , Lieutenant?"                 "What's the trouble, sir?" She knew. She was a doctor, after all. And she had spent our entire time together staring at me. She'd probably noticed         before I had. Maybe that was why she was so pissed off.                 "We don't know where we are, and our ship isn't working," I replied, keeping my tone even. "Things are not ideal. And I'm not having a good wake-up," I         added. That was true, at least.                 She gave me a pitying look. "Do better," she said.                 "All right," I said, putting up my hands. "All right."                 Salmagard and Nils turned to look at me. Deilani folded her arms. Was that smugness?                 I gave her a disgusted look, and reached into my bag.                 "Let's keep the judgment to a minimum," I said, taking out a hypo and injecting myself.                 Deilani turned to the others, jerking her chin at me.                 "Our honorary admiral," she said.                 "Hey, come on," I said. I was feeling better already. "Even admirals can have vices, right? I'm on vacation."                 "What did you just take?" Deilani asked, cutting me off.                 "That's kind of personal," I replied, glancing at Salmagard. She was completely expressionless.                 She twitched an eyebrow. "From the withdrawal, I'm going to say synthetic opiates."                 "You cheated," I said. "Who told you?"                 Deilani just looked at me. I sighed.                 "All right, you got me. I'm dependent. You can report me when we get to Payne Station. I'm sure that'll be great. They'll probably demote me and         garnish some wages or something."                 She gave me another one of those pitying looks. "I don't know who you are," she said, "but you aren't getting off that easy."                 "What? For this?" I held up my empty hypo.                 "For impersonating an officer. You're going to prison."                 "I wish," I said.                 Deilani blinked, and Salmagard cut in.                 "Sir, can we activate a beacon?" she asked.                 It was a sensible suggestion, and a good rescue. We needed to get on task. "Worry about me later, Lieutenant. I'm the least of your problems."                 I turned to Salmagard. "No. I don't think so." I shook my head. "Maybe we could if this was still a Ganraen ship, but it's full of Evagardian systems,         and if the computer's down, there is no beacon. I would love to know what's wrong with the systems," I added to Nils.                 "Yes, sir."                 "Is it sabotage? Because if it looks like sabotage, then we're getting somewhere."                 "I don't know, sir."                 At first I hadn't been sure, but it couldn't be coincidence. Even a ship as old as this wouldn't just happen to fall apart at the same time my sleeper         did. What had been done to my sleeper had also been done to this computer.                 "Do you have a reason to suspect sabotage?" Deilani asked. She'd deflated a little, but she wouldn't let go. Not while there was still breath in her         body. I respected that, but I wasn't at my best.                 I spread my arms. "I think this is all pretty damn weird," I told her.                 "But where are the androids?" Deilani pressed.                 "Never deployed," I said. "Or we'd see them all over." There are no androids, kid. Ganraen ship, Evagardian crew. Evagardian systems. Androids didn't         fit into that picture. I didn't have long before she worked that out.                 "Admiral!" Nils said, looking up.                 That sounded promising. I rubbed my wrist where I'd injected and turned my attention to the ensign.                 "What is it?"                 "The forward, starboard loader cycled once since the last reset," he reported. "I can't go back any farther."                 I took that in. "I guess it's something. It's one more cycle than I'd expect. But just once? So he went outside, but he didn't come back in?"                 "Yes, sir." He drummed his fingers on the panel, looking puzzled. "I don't get it, but it's right here. One cycle."                 "All right. We have to assume that Tremma had some idea what this rock is--so why would he go outside?"                 "A repair, sir?" Salmagard theorized.                 I nodded. "That sounds right. We're broken down, after all. We should take a look. I hope he didn't run into trouble out there."                 I looked at Deilani, who was considering the same notion. Dangerous indigenous life-forms were rare; only a few dozen had been discovered in known         systems. Deilani would know at least a little about xenobiology, and she would know that this world was not one of those she had studied.                 The gravity drive was shut down, but we were still on the floor. This was a planet, but not much of one. The gravity was too light. And you don't need         life-forms to get you into trouble on an alien world. Anything could've happened to them out there.                 Nils was the only one who looked alarmed. Salmagard was perfectly calm. Her face never seemed to change.                 With our combined knowledge of spacecraft, Nils and I navigated the four of us in the direction of the airlock in question. There were a lot of         corridors and a lot of ladders. We passed a long, dirty window overlooking one of the cargo bays. I glanced down at the massive stacks of crates         inside. The white, imperial containers were a stark contrast to the dark, grimy bay.                 I wondered what Tremma was carrying. With the cease-fire in place, he should've been out of a job. Was that why he was ferrying graduates to their         first assignment? Then what was in these crates? Leftovers?                 Yet again, Deilani was monitoring me.                 "Step it out," I said. "We don't have time for sightseeing."                 "Can you teach me to walk like that?"                 "Like what?" I asked, brushing past her.                 "Like a model," she said, giving a little twitch of her hips.                 "You don't have the figure," I told her. She rolled her eyes and kept walking. Maybe she'd give up if I kept refusing to bite.                 Nils looked smug as we approached the airlock's pressure door. His navigation had been perfect, no easy task in a dark, foreign vessel. The airlock was         sealed. That took me off guard; our side of it should have been open. I went to the small window in the blast door and peered into the cramped chamber.         What I saw made me forget all about Deilani's persistent scrutiny.                 "Suits," I said, looking at the rack by the doors. It was a Ganraen ship, but it had an Evagardian crew, so the suits were Evagardian as well. "EVs, I         guess. Quick."                 Instead of obeying, Deilani darted to the window to look for herself. It was amazing how fast her face turned as white as her uniform. She joined the         rest of us without a word as we stripped down.                 I'd only worn an imperial environment suit once before, but it went on easily enough. The EVs were skintight, the nanofabric adjusting to the wearer's         body, and they were the purest white. They were also the most technologically advanced garments in the galaxy, bar none. I deployed my helmet, which         emerged from my collar instantly. There was a hum, and the force shield that was my faceplate materialized, sealing me in. I keyed my suit's AI and         checked that all my readouts were green.                 The trainees slipped effortlessly into their suits. They'd obviously practiced this extensively; until recently there had been a war on, and they were         bound for ship duty. They had to be ready to suit up quickly in a depressurization scenario.                 To them, this technology was business as usual. Imperials take everything for granted.                 I smashed the emergency carbon over the manual release with my elbow, and Nils yanked it down. The seal broke with a hiss, and a few centimeters of         space appeared between the doors. Together, we pried them open. No power meant no decontamination, so we had to go in with our helmets activated.                 I squeezed through and dropped to my knees beside the first body. I couldn't tell which was Tremma; the upper half of this one was severely burned, and         both bodies were in bulky tech suits intended to protect the wearers during heavy repairs and labor.                 They hadn't protected these two well enough. The second corpse was badly burned too, his whole body.         When I met him briefly, years ago, Tremma had seemed to take pride in his ability to prepare for problems before they arose. He hadn't seen        this coming.                 He and his pilot officer were dead. Dead in the airlock, nothing but blackened remains.                 Swallowing, I got back to my feet. I could see what had happened, even if I didn't understand the how or the why. I herded the trainees back into the         ship, deactivating my helmet once the seal was engaged again.                 This changed things. I had to think this through.                 Something heavy struck me across the back. It would've been my head if I hadn't chosen that moment to move. I crashed to the ground, and Deilani's boot         slammed me in the gut. Nils shouted something, probably an expletive. Salmagard slipped between me and the lieutenant. She didn't touch Deilani; she         just blocked her with her body.                 "Out of the way," the taller girl snapped. Salmagard said nothing, but held her ground.                 "What are you doing ?" Nils demanded, still frozen in place.                 "There are two dead men in there, and this is not an admiral," Deilani said, making as though to move around Salmagard, who again         managed to block her without touching her. I spat out a mouthful of blood. Good thing I'd deactivated my helmet, or that would've been all over my faceplate. "Listen to him talk, he's not even an officer. Listen to his accent . Where's his uniform? Look at him move. He's        not one of us ."                 All very good points. I rolled over to probe my ribs. To have them cracked again so soon would be very upsetting. The deck was freezing, and the dim         corridor blurred briefly. If I'd known this was coming, I'd have taken a larger dose when I injected a few minutes ago.                 Strategically taking painkillers in advance. That was something a real admiral would do.                 "LT, he was in an admiral's sleeper," Nils said, holding up his hands. "You can't fake that ."                 "Then what was wrong with it? Things don't go wrong with admirals' sleepers."                 "Something in the seal. I told you."                 "Which could have been caused if there was an unscheduled resuscitation," Deilani snapped. She had me there. "He's on chems. He probably screwed         something up when he went back in. He killed them, and we saved him. He can't be an admiral. He's not even Evagardian ."                 "Am too," I said, wincing.                 "Shut up. They were the only people on the ship. None of us did it, and that leaves him."                 Deilani's reasoning was far from airtight, but it was understandable under the circumstances. Salmagard continued to protect me. She was well aware of         the penalty for laying one's hands on an officer, which was why she could use only her person as a shield to protect me. She kept her hands clasped         firmly behind her back.                 Nils stared at me. He'd been suspicious too, but his suspicions hadn't been running in this direction. And now Deilani was looking at Private Salmagard         as if she was an enemy combatant.                 "Who," she bit out, her eyes burning, "in the Imperial Service does not travel with a uniform?"                 "This man, clearly," Salmagard replied evenly. Her soft, musical voice actually lessened my physical pain.                 "Ow," I complained.                 "Shut up!" Deilani snapped.                 "You shut up," I shot back from the floor. Behind Salmagard.                 Nils didn't know what to do. Salmagard obviously wasn't backing down, and if Deilani's blood pressure got any higher there would be a third corpse on         this ship. I couldn't blame her for having a problem with me, but she needed to start thinking about the greater good.                 "I don't know," Nils said. "He kind of talks like an officer."                 "And you kind of talk like a man," Deilani shot back.                 Nils opened his mouth to retort, remembered she outranked him, and shut it. "Sir?" he said to me questioningly.                 "What?" I groaned and lay back, closing my eyes. Deilani had startled me with that blow, and that had gotten my heart going. Now my chem-laden blood         was rushing around a bit more enthusiastically than was optimal. I was light-headed.                 There was also some pain in my ribs.                 "Who are you really? I haven't been this confused since the Ganraens started the damn war."                 "My name wouldn't mean anything to you," I told him.                 "Then you're admitting you're not Evagardian," he said, looking stricken.                 "I am Evagardian--"                 "You're not . You talk like a Ganraen. Like a Ganraen from the capital," Deilani cut in, then fell silent, looking thoughtful. Yes, there was         no Ganraen capital anymore, was there?                 But I didn't like seeing her thoughtful. She'd drawn a couple wild conclusions, and I was worried about where her overly motivated mind was frolicking         off to now.                 "Nils!" I called, cutting her off. I was still flat on my back.                 "Yes--er, sir?"                 "Don't call him that," Deilani snarled.                 These kids. "Guys, maybe this has escaped your attention, but we don't even know what planet we're on. We have a few days' worth of food, air, and         water, and that's it. With no systems, we also have no beacon. You do get that, right?"                 "Someone will notice that we came down," Nils said. "And that we didn't show at Payne Station. If we really are in trouble, we just have to wait."                 "False." I held up a finger, enjoying the cool deck beneath me. It was calming. "Well, it's false if this planet is actually somewhere out of the way.         And I'm thinking about what we saw outside. It didn't look familiar to me."                 "Doesn't mean this body isn't in a developed system."                 "No. But I'm telling you there's nothing like this on the route we were supposed to be taking."                 "You think we're off course?"                 "Impersonating a--" Deilani interrupted, but I cut her off again.                 "I can prove I didn't burn those men, and I can prove that I belong in that sleeper."                 "Tell us your name ."                 "I could tell you anything . It wouldn't have any meaning."                 "So get out your holo. Show us some ID."                 "About that," I said. Deilani made a disgusted noise and turned away.                 Salmagard was looking down at me over her shoulder. That absolute neutrality. How proper of her. "Help me up, Private." I reached up to her. She pulled         me to my feet, and I leaned heavily on her. I was still hurting.                 I looked at Deilani. "If you want to arrest me, just hold on to that thought until we figure this out. And if that's going to happen, I'm going to need         everybody. That includes me. Actually, the only one I haven't thought of a use for is a doctor . "                 I wasn't sure Deilani's face could get any redder, but it did. She lunged at me, and Salmagard pivoted to put herself between us. Awfully brave of her,         I thought; Deilani was twenty centimeters taller than she was. Deilani drew up short, staring at me over Salmagard's head.                 That look alone painted her as the one likeliest to be a murderer among us. But I didn't think she'd done it.                 "He's got a point," Nils pointed out. "That's the whole crew in there, right?"                 "How can it be? This ship is huge!" Deilani whirled on him.                 "It is," I said. "Trust me."                 "How can we?"                 "You guys should never have been on this ship, but that's not on me." It was true, and it felt good to say it. It was all I had.                 "What do you want to do?" Nils asked, looking past Deilani to me. The lieutenant's mouth became a tight line.                 "Did you get a look at the bodies in there?" I asked.                 Salmagard and Nils both looked away. I'd heard the Service academies were tough; they'd probably only seen things like that on screens before.                 "I did," Salmagard said.                 "Then you saw his arm."                 "Yes."                 "What are you talking about?" Deilani demanded.                 I faced the lieutenant. "He burned himself. I think he burned the other man--damn it, let's say the one that was fully burned was Tremma. I think the         pilot officer burned Tremma, then himself." I held up my left hand. "Using the tech suit's incinerator. It's just a guess from the way they were lying         in there. Look for yourself."                 "Why would they do that?"                 "I have a feeling that's a question we're going to want to try to answer," I said. "Call it a hunch."                 Deilani's eyes narrowed, but she didn't bite. "No. We're locking you down."                 I held up my sidearm, which I'd been holding out of sight since the first blow fell. I wiggled it at them. "If I was your enemy, it's not like I         couldn't have done something about it by now. I know you're not going to like this, Lieutenant, but I'm not your enemy. I need you three, and         you need me." Well, I needed Nils and Salmagard. Deilani I could live without.                 "You said you could prove it," Nils cut in. "Prove you didn't do it."                 "I can. You can."                 "What?"                 "Pull the log off my sleeper. You can tell if it's been opened, and you can tell if the DNA sync is right. It's not part of the ship. It still has         power."                 Nils blinked. "That's a good idea."                 "I'm just a passenger, guys. I'm on a long trip. My sleeper's been getting moved around a little bit." I made an inclusive gesture toward them. "Us         traveling together? It's just some kind of mix-up. I've been aboard this ship once before, but that was a long time ago. I didn't expect to wake up         here. I don't know what's going on. So can we move past this and get down to business?"                 "I can check your log," Nils said.                 "Thank you."                 "What if you rigged it?" Deilani asked.                 "If that was in my skill set, I wouldn't be here," I said honestly. Her look of loathing didn't change, but she believed me. That hatred wasn't all         directed at me; some of it was for Salmagard, who I was still clinging to. She was small, but she didn't have any difficulty supporting me.                 It took longer for us to get back to the sleeper bay than it did for Nils to confirm my claims. I belonged in that admiral's sleeper. There was nothing         Deilani could say to that.                 "There's no name," Nils reported, looking up from his readout. "How can there be no name?"                 "You just can't see it. You don't have credentials," I lied. "Of course it's going to protect my personal information. And it's not relevant. What         matters is figuring out what killed Tremma and his PO. But I have no idea how to do that." I caught Deilani eyeing my sidearm. "Worried about this?" I         pushed it into Salmagard's hands. "I don't need it." Instead of red, now Deilani was turning white again. She had remarkable circulation.                 "What now, sir?" Nils asked, looking dazed.                 I was still in pain, but I didn't know how long I could keep milking it. "Only one choice," I said, straightening up and letting Salmagard go. "The         shuttle. It has its own systems; there's a chance they're still all right. If they are, we can find out where we are. Once we know that, we can make a         play. There should be enough juice left to get us out of orbit. We'll just have to hope there's some power left after we open the bay doors. Right?" I         looked at Nils, who nodded. "Questions?" Without waiting for any, I started to walk, hoping Deilani wouldn't make any more jokes about my gait. It         wasn't as if it was my idea to walk this way, but I couldn't shake these habits overnight.                 "There are two dead officers, sir. We'll need a report."                 I looked over my shoulder at Lieutenant Deilani. "And I'll give one. I'm ranking officer, honorary or not, whether you buy it or not, so this is my         watch. Don't worry about what you're going to say when we get out of here. That comes later. What did you think you would gain by putting your unit         down a man under these circumstances?"                 "I don't know, maybe a Rothschild Mark for apprehending a Ganraen spy," Deilani said, annoyed.                 "You don't get the Mark for that kind of kid stuff," I said, and it was true. The Rothschild Mark was the highest imperial honor, and only about a         dozen had been awarded over the last century or so.                 "Kid stuff?" Nils raised an eyebrow.                 I shrugged. "Spies aren't anything to get excited about."                 "You know, another Rothschild Mark just got awarded, too," Nils said, perhaps hoping to ease the tension. "Didn't say to who or for what, though."                 "They usually don't," Deilani said darkly. "You know though, don't you?" This she directed at Salmagard, who did not reply. Deilani was right. An         aristocrat might have inside intel about something like that.                 The Rothschild Mark wasn't exactly my favorite subject; I hoped they wouldn't linger on it.                 "Don't get excited about awards from the Service," I told them.                 "Why not?" Nils asked.                 "Because when they give you that stuff," I told him, "you aren't the one they're patting on the back."                 It was time to find the shuttle, and that meant locating the flight bay. I'd seen and dealt with some large vessels in my time, but I'd rarely had to         navigate them without lifts or guide paths. I'd gotten too used to being part of an entourage. Navigating solo wasn't coming back to me easily.                 Thankfully Nils had no difficulty getting us there, but we were both taken aback to find that the shuttle launch floor shared space with the main hold;         there were only fixtures for a force screen to separate the shuttle from the cargo. You could have fit a full wing of the Ganraen royal residence in         this chamber.                 Stacks of white service-standard deep space transport containers dominated the space, laid out in an impeccable grid, six high, nearly reaching the         thirty-meter ceiling. Each crate bore an imperial crest in black on its side. Not very subtle, but for this run the freighter hadn't been going         anywhere it was likely to be boarded and searched. Clear Evagardian markings meant there were only a handful of cons Tremma could have been planning         with this cargo.                 I caught a glimpse of my face in the glossy white plastic of the nearest crate, and looked away, swallowing. "What is all of this?" Deilani asked. "And         why isn't it on an imperial transport?"                 "It is."                 "Why isn't it on a normal one?" she pressed.                 I said nothing.                 "The fighting's over," Nils said. "Maybe they're dispersing some of the surplus ordnance."                 "These are not weapons containers," Salmagard observed softly, and I glanced back at her. She looked thoughtful. Her eyes flicked to me, but only for a         moment.                 So she didn't know everything. I wanted to educate her, but this wasn't the time. We made our way through the stacks of crates to the shuttle in front         of the launch doors. It was an Evagardian craft, dragonfly-class. Neither cutting edge nor out of date, it was a fast shuttle mostly intended for         ferrying officers and ambassadors from ship to station in style.                 Obviously the freighter needed a shuttle, but this was an unusual choice. Tremma's ship would be expected to have something a little less flashy, and a         little more utilitarian. The trainees probably wouldn't notice. No--Nils had. He was looking at the shuttle with obvious confusion.                 "Why a dragonfly, though?" he asked. "It doesn't make sense, not in this ship."                 "Come on," I said, startling him. "Let's get out of here."                 "Nothing makes sense on this ship," Nils said, his eyes still on the shuttle. Damn it all, now he was thinking too; Deilani was enough to deal with. I         jogged up the ramp and into the cabin, going straight to the cockpit.                 "You're a pilot?" Deilani asked.                 "No," I replied cheerily. "But how hard can it be?" She scowled at me. "Nils, take the chair." He sat down beside me.                 "You're joking, right sir?" It was starting to catch up with him. I hoped he'd keep his cool.                 "Relax. I can fly it."                 He looked relieved. I spotted Salmagard with her hand on the ramp control. "That might be premature," I told her.                 Deilani leaned against the cockpit doorway, arms folded, looking expectant. I ignored her and began to power up the shuttle. The computer came online.         I knew at once that something was wrong.                 "What is it?" Nils asked, sensing my sudden tension.                 "The system's stuttering," I replied, distracted. "Get a starscape while I check it out. I want to know where we are . . ." My subconscious shouted         something at me, and I listened. I stopped in the act of reaching for my straps. "Run," I said.                 "What?"                 I grabbed Nils and dragged him out of the cockpit, pushing Deilani and Salmagard ahead of us. Fresh out of training, they knew how to go from         stationary to full speed, even if they didn't understand why. We stumbled down the ramp, and I kept them in front of me, pushing on. I tried to put as         many stacks of crates between us and the shuttle as I could.                 The shuttle went up only seconds after we cleared the ramp. We were all deafened by the blast, which vaporized the nearest stacks, and broke many more         free of their gravity restraints. I shoved Deilani out of the path of a falling crate, and kicked Nils' legs from beneath him to get his head down.         Salmagard had the good sense to duck on her own. Containers were toppling all over, and the smell of burning plastic washed over the bay.                 Coughing, I rolled over, visions of shattering carbon shield flashing through my mind. Screams, and the wailing of twisting, malforming metal. I felt a         wave of nausea. That would've been a good time to lie back and go to sleep, but Salmagard was reaching down to help me to my feet. Grimacing, I took         her hand and let her pull me up.                 Deilani was on her hands and knees, groaning. It looked as if some debris had struck her, but it hadn't compromised her suit. Nils was sprawled out;         the fall to the floor had done him more harm than the explosion had, but it beat the alternative. Everyone was whole, but the bay wasn't.                 Cracked and broken crates were everywhere. Pieces were still clattering to the deck, and I could see bits of the shuttle lodged in the bulkheads. It         was hot, and the smell of melted polymer was strong in the air.                 I leaned against the nearest stack, which felt warm through my suit, and slid down to sit. I could feel sharp pain in my back; I'd taken some shrapnel         too. My EV chirped medical pings at me, like I needed it to tell me that I was bleeding.                 My sleeper being tampered with was one thing. My sleeper and the ship. My sleeper, the ship, and the shuttle. And the ship's computer systems.         I couldn't forget those.                 Subtle.                 "What just happened?" Nils choked out, getting to his feet. "The cells spiked. The levels just popped for no reason."                 I wished he hadn't seen that. The power cells in the shuttle had been fixed to overload on startup, probably helped along with . . . I wasn't going to         think about it. There wasn't any money in it. I shook my head like that might help my ears stop ringing.                 Salmagard appeared in front of me, which I took to mean Deilani was back on her feet and acting threatening. I figured I'd better say something before         she did.                 "I don't know about you guys," I said loudly enough that they'd all hear me over the buzzing in their ears. "But this is starting to feel a little like         sabotage."                 "And what the hell do you know about that?" Deilani's hands were opening and closing; those fingers wanted to be around my throat so badly         that I truly sympathized. I pictured her shaking me by the neck the way she so obviously wanted to.                 "Just save it," I said, drained.                 "I won't take this from a chemical dependent," she spat. The emotion in her voice was telling. I was starting to get a feel for Deilani.                 I looked at Salmagard, but once again she was making a point of ignoring me. She'd maintain her neutrality until Deilani physically assaulted me. I         didn't blame her.                 I watched her work her wrist experimentally.                 "You know what's going on," Deilani pressed.                 "Actually," I said, feeling detached. "I'm kind of baffled." It was true. At first I'd had some ideas, but now? This had gotten out of hand.                 There must have been something about what I said, or how I said it, because Deilani backed down. Even she couldn't believe that I'd sabotage my own         sleeper, the ship, and the only way off the ship. I hadn't done any of it. I really hadn't.                 And the shuttle had been the only way. The escape craft wouldn't do us any good unless we could somehow get into orbit, and with no reactor         and no ship's computer, that wasn't going to happen.                 Crates and debris were still falling apart, and the sounds echoed through the vast bay.                 Nils had staggered into the aisle to gaze back at the wreckage. Deilani put her hands against the crate opposite me and appeared to be getting herself         under control.                 Ten minutes ago I'd been impressed that these three weren't panicking. It wasn't that they were brave or well trained, though it was possible that they         were both. They hadn't panicked because they were fresh out of training, and had no concept of exactly how large the galaxy was, and the true         implications of being lost in it. Imperial training had no doubt confronted them with danger, but there had always been a safety net.                 Now I was out of luck. I knew how bad it was.                 Salmagard looked at me, troubled. She knew how serious this was even before things started blowing up. It wasn't surprise on her face. She was         troubled because this was the confirmation of her suspicions. Maybe she'd been hoping to be wrong.                 As for the shuttle, that had been the oldest trick in the book. Rig the power cells to overload. No real explosives, so it looks like an accident.                 Much harder to do with newer shuttles.                 "You're bleeding," Salmagard said.                 "Medical's as good a place to go as any," I sighed. "Because we aren't going anywhere else."     Excerpted from Admiral by Sean Danker All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.