Read The Devil and Deep Space for Free Online

didn’t miss the target. Admiral Brecinn sat back in her chair, satisfied and annoyed at the same time — satisfied, that she’d been concerned over nothing; annoyed at the fighter’s arrogance in pushing for a perfect run.
    The fighter heeled into its trajectory, starting back toward its base ship while the debris from the target blossomed in the familiar dust–rose of a solid kill. The target had been very close to the boundary; the plasma membrane of the containment field belled out, fighting to absorb the energy of the blast, and kissed the observation station, sending it tumbling.
    There was a murmur of amusement from the observers assembled, nine in all, seated in ranks arrayed before the great monitoring wall — getting a lick from energy wash was a harmless mishap, a pratfall, more amusing than anything else unless it was your bean tea that got spilt. Still Brecinn frowned, despite herself.
    Armaments were intrinsically unstable to a certain degree, but it was a moderate degree, a very moderate degree, and it wasn’t as though she could have redirected the Ragnarok party. They’d made the selection at random from the available platforms as part of the exercise protocol.
    She hadn’t thought about excluding that one station until it had been too late, not as though she really could have without drawing attention to herself, and not as if that was the only station she was using for storage. The storage spaces were all inerted anyway. Why should she worry? Nobody paid any attention to what might be stored out on unmanned observation stations. Nobody cared about miscellaneous stores.
    There was a sudden flare on–screen, and the room fell silent. Brecinn stood up, staring.
    “What was that?”
    It couldn’t be. It would be such disgustingly stupid luck.
    “Observation station, Admiral,” the technician on duty said, disbelief clear in her voice. “Seems to have exploded. No coherent structure on scan.”
    No trace of a lifeboat, then. They hadn’t had time. They hadn’t had warning. There was plenty of debris; that was all too depressingly obvious, and somewhere in that debris floated the probably fractionalized bodies of the people who had been watching the exercise from remote location. The Ragnarok ’s acting Captain. A Command Branch officer. That meant a full–fledged accident investigation. She couldn’t afford one.
    Some of the debris in that cluster would bear unmistakable chemical signatures of controlled merchandise — armaments, bombs — that could be traced back to specific points of origin, failures in inventory control, even the occasional warehouse theft. It would be difficult to explain, almost impossible to overlook. Unimaginably expensive to deny.
    “Poll all stations,” Brecinn ordered. “Let’s be sure of our facts before we send any formal notices. We’ll take a short recess while we confirm whether the station was manned. Two eights, gentles, and reconvene here.”
    Taking a recess was risky. They were her staff, true enough, but they would be watching for the first hint of uncertainty on her part to gut her carcass and throw her to the scavengers while they hurried to harvest everything they could salvage ahead of a forensic accounting team. She had to have time to think.
    One by one, her people stood and left the room. The Clerk of Court from Chilleau Judiciary excused herself; the armaments evaluator from Second Fleet put his feet up on the back of the chair in front of him, with every apparent intention of having a nap in place. Fine.
    Eppie and one or two of the others would have gone directly to her office. They’d be waiting for her. Damn the Ragnarok and its crew anyway , Admiral Brecinn told herself crossly; and went to join her aides and advisors for private conference.

    ###

    Strolling thoughtfully through the halls beneath the Admiral’s management suite Mergau Noycannir switched on her snooper with a casual gesture that mimicked rubbing behind one ear; and