Metal Swarm - Kevin J. Anderson [127]
Nevertheless, he restated his list of transgressions, not just with regard to Raven Kamarov, but also how he had helped the interdiction warliners at Yreka, as well as many other petty indiscretions that had affected the clans. He felt giddy as he spoke, his knees weak, his heart pounding so hard that it felt like a boxer pummelling him from within his chest. 'Not that it's any excuse, but my time among the Roamers taught me that I was wrong. So I abandoned the Earth Defence Forces, left everything behind. General Lanyan would have me shot as a deserter if ever I went home.'
'Sounds like you don't have a single good option left,' said one of the chiefs.
'No, I really don't. And I expect no leniency.'
'We're not inclined to give any.' Kellum looked at his daughter. 'Unless you want to speak on his behalf, my sweet? This is up to you.'
Zhett glanced at Patrick, and for just a few seconds her icy expression seemed to melt, but she quickly found the will to refreeze it again. She shook her head, and Patrick's heart sank.
Kellum, looking like a complete stranger, placed his hands flat on the table. He loomed large and imposing. His deep voice held no emotion. 'Then, Patrick Fitzpatrick III, we have no choice. Not only did your actions result in the death of Raven Kamarov, but you confessed involvement in the murder of Yreka colonists, and caused events that led directly to the loss of countless Roamer lives and severe hardship. By the old Skyminers' Code, the rules are clear.' He crossed his arms over his chest. 'We sentence you to the winds.'
The skymine chiefs muttered uneasily, even Zhett looked sick.
Patrick glanced back and forth, trying to read details from the faces. 'What does that mean? What are you talking about?'
'Ever watch an old historical vidloop about pirates?' one of the chiefs said with a harsh snicker.
Kellum nodded. 'An apt comparison. We're a thousand miles up over the open sky, with nothing beneath but infinity. You're going to walk the plank.'
Seventy-nine
Tasia Tamblyn
Very little fanfare accompanied the completion, commissioning, and launch of each new vessel at the Osquivel yards. But this particular ship was special to the Roamers.
The people gathered for a send-off that was both a poignant christening and an excuse for a party. Tasia, Robb, and Nikko stood inside the admin hub, looking out at the new personnel carrier, some might have called it a luxury liner if it had been a bit fancier. It was designed to hold sixty passengers - twice that many, if the people were willing to endure crowded conditions. A rescue ship.
'It'll be good to get all those people away from Llaro. Shizz, I didn't like dropping them off there in the first place.'
'You said it was a nice planet.' Turning away from the view outside, Robb looked at Tasia.
'Exactly what I meant. Roamers aren't bred for nice places. Wouldn't want them to get fat and lazy!'
'Maybe not all Roamers. That's why my father left skymining in the first place and went to join my mother in the greenhouse asteroids,' said Nikko. 'He wanted something more comfortable.'
Shipyard workers gathered at the wide viewing windows. Spotlights from the spacedock ring illuminated the newly assembled hull, a patchwork of different metals. 'Here comes the drone! Everybody watch.'
A puttering carrier the size of a child's toy wagon moved forward on a ramming course. In its nose it carried a small glass cask and, with a gentle collision, it cracked open the bottle. A puff of instantly frozen vapour expanded against the side of the new ship.
'Waste of good champagne, if you ask me,' muttered Caleb Tamblyn. Tasia's uncle had come to twist Denn Peroni's arm, hoping for equipment and support crews to help out with the Plumas reconstruction work.
'Yeah, but this wasn't good champagne,' Denn said in a conspiratorial tone, then raised his voice. 'We christen this ship the Osquivel' The spectators let out a round of whoops, anxious to get on with the promised feasting and drinking.
'Osquivel. What a name.' Robb