City of Ruins - By Kristine Kathryn Rusch Page 0,118

voice to his thoughts. If the woman was right, then his life would never be the same. None of their lives would. And he would have to lead his people through this without too many breakdowns, without too much despair.

He needed to know first, not last. He needed to be prepared.

“Just make sure everything is functioning,” he said to Yash.

“It won’t be,” she said. “We still have a lot of work to do.”

“But not on the anacapa,” he said.

“Not on our anacapa, no,” she said. “I hope we don’t have a lot to do on the base’s either. But some of the secondary systems on the Ivoire still need work.”

“We can do that in space if we have to,” Coop said. “We do need the weapons systems online, however.”

She looked at him sharply. “You think we’ll need weapons?”

“We might,” he said. “I’m not sure what we’re facing.”

“Good God,” she said.

“I want all of the weapons working,” he said. “Even the minor ones. Especially the minor ones.”

Her face had paled. “You think we might do some shooting down here.”

“I doubt it,” he said, “but I want to be prepared for all possibilities.”

She put her hand on his arm. “Let the others go up there, Coop. It sounds more and more like this trip is completely inadvisable.”

He studied her for a moment. She cared about him, yes, but also she cared about the ship. She knew that in a moment of crisis, the last thing the ship would need would be a new commander.

“The trip has been inadvisable,” he said, “from the moment we listened to the Xenth about the Quurzod. We can’t change that. We’re here now, and I’m going to figure out what to do.”

“Even if it makes things worse?” she asked.

“It can’t make things worse,” he said. “No matter what way this goes, we’re only facing different degrees of the same problem.”

She was silent for a moment. Then she nodded.

“I hope you’re right,” she said, and returned to her post.

* * * *

SIXTY-FOUR

I

fidget in the center of the room. The engineers from the ship are working on something I’ve never seen before. I’ve seen the shell, though. It looks like part of the stealth tech we’ve seen on the various Dignity Vessels.

The shell is contained inside a part of the floor that rose up when the engineers started their work. They’re delving deep inside it, and of course, they’re speaking in a language I don’t understand.

Al-Nasir isn’t listening. He’s pacing. He keeps looking at the exterior door, his expression tight. I wonder if he’s regretting his decision to come with me. He could be on one of our ships, heading to the Nobody’s Business right now, and he knows it.

Safe, without any complications.

And God knows there are going to be complications.

At exactly two hours, the door to the ship opens. People step out, one at a time. They’re all wearing the black uniforms that I’d seen, and they all have a weapons belt around their hips. Their laser pistols—if indeed that’s what they have—-are smaller than ours, but they look just as lethal.

Everyone is expressionless. Soldiers, heading into battle.

Three, six, nine, twelve. More than I ever expected. My heart twists. What have I done?

What have I agreed to?

I always try to stay away from the military, and now I’m marching with them into a city that has done nothing to me except make me follow a few rules.

The lieutenant comes next, followed by the captain. As he comes down the stairs, he scans the room until he sees me. Our gazes lock.

He nods.

He looks so official in his black uniform with its gold trim. None of the other uniforms have as much gold trim, so his must show his rank somehow. His shoulders are square, his jaw set. He looks like a captain of legend, which, I suppose, he is.

I’m doing nothing to hide my qualms. I’m staring at all of those soldiers with complete dismay. Men, women, all of them staring straight ahead, all of them in some form of position, awaiting command.

I hate this.

He stops in front of me and bows a little. He speaks slowly, but I still don’t understand what he’s saying.

The lieutenant reaches his side, but before she can translate, Al-Nasir says, “He’s apologizing for inconveniencing us. He hopes that nothing will go wrong, and he’ll do everything in his power to make sure we’re all safe.”

“I’m sure the soldiers will guarantee that,” I mutter.

To my horror, the lieutenant translates my words.

The captain’s mouth

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