City of Ruins - By Kristine Kathryn Rusch Page 0,106

that he could monitor the repair room. He would watch the woman make her way to the briefing room, as if her movements might give him a clue to her personality.

It unnerved him that he knew nothing about her. He wasn’t even certain of her name. Perkins called her cagey, as if she thought about every statement, and he got the sense that Perkins didn’t much like her.

Her team seemed to respect her, though, and it didn’t seem to be a respect based on fear.

He had to trust that as well.

He knew her voice better than anything else. He had listened to her conversation with Perkins in the communications array with the linguists. The conversation showed confusion, but it also showed thought.

And it had caught everyone’s attention when the woman used the phrase “Dignity Vessel.”

Dignity Vessel was the original name of the ships in the Fleet. The name came from the Fleet’s original mission, to bring peace and dignity throughout the known universe.

The Fleet never did bring peace. They focused more on justice. And they did try to restore dignity where there was none.

But they didn’t call themselves Dignity Vessels, although the words were still part of the ships’ identification numbers. That these people knew what Dignity Vessels were gave Coop hope that less time had passed than he feared.

A movement caught his eye.

The outsiders had entered the repair room, all seven of them, none of them in environmental suits. The woman looked different. She wore something flowing, a dresslike top over a pair of tight-fitting pants. Her shoes remained practical, however.

Her companion, Al-Nasir, wore a white shirt and black pants, almost looking like a member of Coop’s crew in casual dress. Everyone else on the team dressed as they had before, as if they expected to work.

The five who would stay in the repair room wore their masks. The woman and Al-Nasir did not.

Coop watched them, no longer pacing.

The other problem he had with this meeting was one of intent. He knew what he needed from her. He needed to know who she was, and who her people were. But that was secondary to the history lesson she could give him.

He had never gone into a meeting like this needing something. Usually he’d been the mediator or the person who could grant someone else’s wishes.

This time, the woman had that control.

She could leave at any moment, and take her answers with her.

And he had no idea how—or even if—he could stop her.

* * * *

FIFTY-SEVEN

I

feel like an idiot. Ilona and the historians convinced me to dress as if I were meeting with the head of the Vaycehnese government, which I have. I brought one very dressy outfit (which, honestly, is all I own), for just that sort of meeting, and now I’m wearing it in the room I should be exploring.

I miss my environmental suit. I feel more like myself when I wear that.

I’m not carrying my laser pistol, although we discussed it. I don’t want to go into this meeting armed. Al-Nasir and I are already outnumbered just by the lieutenant and her people. If there are more—and there is at least one, this mysterious captain—then we’re seriously outnumbered.

A laser pistol won’t save me.

I am, however, carrying Karl’s knife. It’s strapped around my waist. I doubt they’ll let me bring it inside the ship, but I’m going to try. I’m going to tell them it’s ceremonial, which it is. I keep the knife close, for sentimental reasons and as a reminder that things can go wrong.

We’re inside the room. The others are going to wait. Seager and Quinte will guard the door. They’re to leave as quickly as they can if it looks like thing: have gone badly. Rea, DeVries, and Kersting will continue our not-so-great investigation of the room. I’m sure they’ll attract minders, and that’s all right

Al-Nasir stands beside me. He keeps rubbing the palms of his hands together. He’s afraid he’ll screw up the translations. I figure if the conversation doesn’t seem to be going well, I’m going to leave. The Dignity Vessel people can try to stop me if they want to. But I’ve asked for respect, and I’m going to continue to demand it.

I wish we had a translation program, too, but my people couldn’t put one together yet. I’m rather astonished that the Dignity Vessel people have. Stone believes—and I actually agree—that this is a sign of a full complement of crew on the ship itself. If five people work on something,