Wing Commander #07 False Color by William Forstchen (novels for students TXT) 📗

I'm to be seeing to, so the sooner you turn me loose on 'em the sooner me and my mates can start putting in some shore leave."

"Excuse me, er . . ." Bondarevsky knew from his shoulder patch that the youngster was an officer, but he couldn't spot anything that looked like rank insignia.

"Harper," the young man replied, turning his easy smile on Bondarevsky. "Aengus Harper, Lieutenant in the Navy of the Free Republic of Landreich, at your service, sir."

"Jason Bondarevsky, Lieutenant. I'm—"

"The Bear himself?" Harper exclaimed. "Should have recognized you from your pictures! After Old Max, you're one of the biggest names back home, you know. Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir, right pleased!"

Bondarevsky was a little taken aback. He wasn't used to the younger man's tone, which hovered somewhere between mocking respect and outright hero worship. "I was supposed to meet one of your passengers, Lieutenant," he said slowly. "Admiral . . ."

"Richards, of course. Never you fear, sir, he'll be along in a minute or two. Is it true what they're telling me about you joining up with us, sir?"

That earned Bondarevsky a look from the sergeant. Evidently that was what it took to break through their famous iron reserve—the word that one of Terra's naval heroes was thinking of joining the renegades of Landreich.

"Nothing's been signed yet, Mr. Harper," Bondarevsky told him. "But Admiral Richards seemed to think it was something I should look into . . . and I have to admit the offer is tempting." He gestured toward Sparks. "This is Lieutenant McCullough. She's also interested in a new career."

"Is that young Bondarevsky?" The voice was as strong and well-modulated as Bondarevsky remembered it, and he turned to see the thin form of Admiral Vance Richards striding towards him from the open security door. Unlike Harper, he wore a full-dress uniform that was everything a senior officer of an interstellar power deserved, dazzling silver trim against midnight black with a rack of decorations, from both Terra and the Landreich covering his breast. But the man inside the uniform hadn't changed much in the last four years, since he'd served as Bondarevsky's CO in the campaign that culminated at the Battle of Earth. If the last wisps of hair on his nearly bald head were a little bit thinner, and his gait was a little slower, he still had the fire in his eyes that had always marked him out from those around him. "It's good to see you again. From the reply you sent last month, I wasn't sure you'd be here."

"Back then I wasn't sure myself, Admiral," Bondarevsky told him. "But I've had time to think about your offer, sir. And it's a hell of a lot better than signing on a merchant ship or piloting shuttles for PanSystem Passenger Service."

Vance extended a long, slender hand. For a moment Bondarevsky hesitated to take it. He was embarrassed by his bionic arm, which didn't quite look or feel as natural as advertised, and he still had to concentrate hard to use it for fine manipulation. But after a moment he took the Admiral's hand in his plastilimb fingers and carefully shook it. The sensors in his palm and fingertips told him that Vance had lost none of his unexpected strong grip since the last time they'd seen one another.

The Admiral met his eyes with a serious look. "I heard about what happened on Coventry. It must have been hell when they told you about the arm."

"Yes, sir," he said, dropping into a formal military tone to hide the emotion those words triggered inside him. "Yes, sir, it was."

Richards looked away. "I know, Jason. Believe me, I know. Everyone lost somebody to that damned war."

In the awkward pause that followed Bondarevsky found himself wondering what the Admiral was thinking about from his own mysterious past. Vance Richards had been the chief of Naval Intelligence for the entire Confederation before taking "retirement" to head up the secret mission that had put Confed ships, including Bondarevsky's old carrier, under the command of the Landreich during the months leading up to the Battle of Earth. His life had been shrouded in secrecy for years, and he never talked about himself. But the bleak tone of his voice hinted at losses of his own.

"If I might be reminding' you, Admiral," Aengus Harper broke the mood with a light tone, "it's late for your appointment you are. And you'll have to be seeing that flock of VIPs afterward."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Richards said with a faint smile. "And to think I invested all that money in a portable computer secretary."

"I'll not delay you, Admiral," Bondarevsky said. "I assume we'll get a chance to see you on the ship later?"

Richards shook his head. "I'd like it if you'd join me, Jason," he said. "I think you'll be interested in my . . . appointment. Someone you haven't seen for a while, I'd imagine."

"As you wish, Admiral," Bondarevsky responded.

"You'll have to get out of practice with all the formalities, lad, if you're going to join the Landreich. Don't forget, our President's a wanted mutineer and our fleet would likely lose an engagement with a squadron of target drones. Isn't that what you told me, back when we first got a look at Kruger's little corner of the frontier?"

"Things change, Admiral," Bondarevsky said with a grin.

"Your luggage, sir?" Harper asked before he could turn away. "So I can see to getting it stowed while you hobnob with the great?"

Bondarevsky indicated the kitbag he'd set down beside the desk while waiting for the security doors to open. "It's all yours, Lieutenant," he said. "Sparks, if you could go with Mr. Harper, I'm sure you can get us settled in by the time I get back."

"Aye aye, skipper," Sparks responded. "I'll take care of things for you.

"Just this, sir?" Harper asked, raising a sardonic eyebrow as he took the kitbag. "You cut your ties with the Earth an' all, heading out for a new life on