Scattered Suns - Kevin J. Anderson [74]
“Very well, General. I agree. We will have to keep our eyes open, in case the right person crosses our path.”
Chapter 35—PATRICK FITZPATRICK III
When gruff Del Kellum summoned the Earth captives into a central loading bay, Fitzpatrick figured they were about to be lectured—or tossed out the airlock. The death of their fellow prisoner Bill Stanna during an ill-advised and poorly planned escape attempt had only strengthened the resolve of the soldiers, leaving them as intractable as ever.
Twenty-nine other EDF hostages gathered, waiting sourly for whatever Kellum would say. The captives angrily considered the Roamers responsible for their comrade’s death, though Fitzpatrick knew Stanna had made his own fatal blunders.
He spoke quietly to his closest companions, weapons specialist Shelia Andez and the compy expert Kiro Yamane. “There’s been a lot of activity here lately, more ships from outside, more clan representatives, a lot of whispered talk. I’ve never seen so many people hit me with a poisoned glare.”
“Just glare right back at them,” Andez said. “They deserve it.”
Even Zhett Kellum had stopped teasing him with sarcastic comments or her obvious attempts at flirtation. Fitzpatrick could not shake his feeling of dread, and he didn’t want to be worried about her.
“I think Patrick may be correct.” Yamane’s voice was so soft they could barely hear it over the murmur of the crowd. “Something has happened out there. Maybe the EDF is looking for us.”
“Better yet, what if they’re retaliating?” Andez gave a quick, hungry grin.
Fitzpatrick knew they wouldn’t agree, but he had to offer his suggestion anyway. “It’s time to be more proactive. Maybe we should try cooperating a little 'out of the goodness of our hearts.' We can get into the thick of things, gather a little intelligence. Think of what we can learn.”
“Aw, who wants to know what the Roachers are up to?” Andez said.
Yamane’s dark eyes glittered. “I would like to learn if something terrible has occurred outside. Another hydrogue massacre, perhaps?”
“The Roamers haven’t exactly been keeping us up to date on the latest news. We’d never know it even if the drogues destroyed Earth in retaliation for our offensive here at Osquivel.” Fitzpatrick looked again at his friends. “Anything we learn can help us and the EDF, if we ever get out of here.”
When Zhett had shown him around the Osquivel ring shipyards, he’d refused to believe the disorganized space gypsies could put together something so impressive. The clans couldn’t possibly be such effective manufacturers and businessmen. Despite his inclination, Fitzpatrick had to admire what he saw, even if it was overshadowed by his unacknowledged attraction for the clan leader’s daughter.
“Maybe we can get ourselves assigned to help study that hydrogue derelict,” Yamane said. “It just isn’t right that Roamers have exclusive access to the technological marvel of the century. Imagine what our military could do with that thing! With their ham-handed poking around, Roamer scientists might destroy delicate systems and delete vital information.”
Andez snorted. “Like a bunch of primitive tribesmen prodding with wooden spears at something they don’t understand!”
Fitzpatrick said, “Their technology is a bit more advanced than wooden spears.” Then he caught himself, not wanting to sound too sympathetic.
“I’m just a cybernetics expert, but I’ll bet I could figure out more than these Roamers could—if I got the chance.”
“Focus on the real priority, okay? Maybe we should just bash some heads in and get our butts