Hidden Empire - Kevin J. Anderson [198]
Before he suited up to go wait for the pickup ship, Jess removed the embroidered shoulder covering that bore his name along with Ross's and Tasia's. He laid it gently in the captain's chair, then went to the suit locker and made ready to depart.
He did not once look back or reconsider what he was doing.
With his own ship anchored to the comet and its heavy stardrive engines blazing, adding inexorable force in a vector against the routine pull of gravity, Jess climbed aboard Caleb's pickup vessel that had arrived for him. They joined the other Roamer ships on their way out of the system.
Jess scanned the eighteen mountains of ice that had already begun their descent. Once he made certain that each one of the comet bombs was on course, he sank back into his padded chair and gave orders for his team to depart.
The die was cast.
90 BRANSON ROBERTS
Some job this had turned out to be. Branson Roberts hated piloting the only human ship in an isolated godforsaken system, especially in a place where the destructive aliens were bound to be hiding. But he had his orders. Even worse, he had no choice. General Lanyan had made sure of that.
At least the EDF had given Roberts back his own ship, the Blind Faith, and it was good to be sitting at the old girl's controls again. The cockpit felt like home, felt like normal—except for all the modified systems, pumped-up engines, and heavy armor the EDF had installed on the ship. That had seemed like adding insult to injury.
Still, when he dropped into the Dasra system hunting alien bogeymen, Roberts was glad that no one but himself held the controls. He and the Blind Faith had been through a lot together.
A month ago, the deep-core aliens had emerged from the cloud decks of Dasra and destroyed Roamer ekti-harvesting facilities there, the aliens' fifth such target. The Dasra attack played out the same as all the others: Huge crystalline globes attacked with no warning, no mercy, accepting no surrender. The aliens had annihilated the skymine despite transmitted pleas, leaving no wreckage or survivors.
Thus, the deep-core aliens had proved they lived within this system, and Branson Roberts had orders to find them. How many other gas giants did the enemy inhabit? Were all of them danger zones?
He thought of Rlinda Kett, with her generous body and expansive moods. She always called him her favorite ex-husband, and he called her his favorite ex-wife, though he had only been married once. Roberts had proven to be a mediocre husband but an excellent pilot, so Rlinda kept him on with her small merchant fleet. He'd made a good profit flying the Blind Faith, enough to keep him content and let him pretend that he lived a playboy existence, so Rlinda would not take pity on his loneliness.
But the small fleet's easygoing success had careened to a halt when this alien trouble began. Rlinda had lost the Great Expectations to Rand Sorengaard's pirates, and now three of her other ships had been commandeered by the EDF. In order to keep his pilot's license and a ship to fly, Branson Roberts found himself forced to run errands for General Lanyan.
The General had sent a specific summons to Roberts, bringing him to EDF headquarters on Mars. In a private staff office, with the door closed and broad skylights open to an olive-green sky, Lanyan had made his proposal. He had not stood when Roberts entered the office, but remained at his desk, which was piled with data reports and multiple screens that showed endless troop deployments and combat exercises.
After only a few words, Roberts realized that the General had already pulled his files, studied his piloting career and track record, and knew more about Branson Roberts than he generally wanted anyone to know.
It was going to be an offer Roberts couldn't refuse. No doubt about that.
"Your dossier suggests you are quite a daredevil pilot, Captain Roberts. I have already noted how well you comported yourself when my squad used you as bait