Chapter 103: Coup

  A dozen Marchess Wardens in marine armor saluted as Otto and Alarie stepped onto the bridge of the Pacific Resolution, and for a wonder they didn't drop their gauntleted hands to their sides until after Jack had passed, too.

  Well, why not? The Devil Ray flight suit he wore proclaimed him a commodore.

  The flag rank made him want to worm his way out of the suit, but he was damned glad to have it. Months in prison fabrics had reminded him just how uncomfortable and unresponsive groundling clothes could be. Any flight suit was a blessing.

  Still, he fingered the collar. If he popped the insignia off, would anybody notice?

  “Jack.” Otto was looking down his nose at the platinum manta-ray under Jack's thumb and forefinger. The Oligarch didn't say to quit fiddling with it, but then, he didn't have to.

  “Uh.” Jack forced his hand down and looked at the Pacific Resolution's immense main screen.

  With Etemenos's powerful fixed defenses on the second ring disabled by a computer virus from the Marchesses, the United Shipping Magnate battleship packed more firepower than anything inside the world-city. The Feds hadn't just let it in. They'd welcomed it with open arms, along with the rest of the Marchess corporate fleet. On screen, the 'prize fleet' captured from Otto's rebel faction flared engines as one ship after another came online.

  The combined Oligarchical fleets outnumbered the Feds' First Fleet at least two to one, outgunned them by more. With the impenetrable shields of Etemenos at their backs and the Feds in disarray ahead, the Pacific Resolution's name made a hell of a lot more sense.

  Jack wondered if the Feds would even try to fight back.

  Even though he wasn't sure Otto winning was a good thing, he sure as hell hoped not. Every stray capital ship shell would impact some part of a world-city packed with civilians. Unless they'd found some way to escape, his wife and daughter were probably still somewhere in said world-city.

  Which meant...

  Jack could have kicked himself. He'd been without a flight suit so long, he'd almost forgotten what wearing one meant.

  He raised the mask of his suit. Even more than the comforts of the suit itself, the interior heads-up display was a welcome sight. Especially the communications suite he jumped to. Ellie and Chloe had both been wearing their suits when he'd last seen them. If they still were, he could –

  “Jack?” Ellie's wide, tilting eyes filled his vision and her voice his ears.

  “Hiya, Hon,” he said hoarsely.

  If she could hear him and respond in real time, she, and by extension Chloe, were still on Etemenos.

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  “Where are you? How are you calling me?” From the way her eyes flicked around, she expected to get an answer from the room around her.

  “From my very own commodore's flight suit.” Jack transmitted a still shot his suit took from the Pacific Resolution's bridge cameras. Otto at the con in his garish blue-and-red harlequin flight suit, Alarie on his right, Jack his left, an Oligarchical crew surrounding them.

  Ellie stared.

  Blinked.

  Asked, “How?”

  “I'd say I was sure if I was. From what I gather, this – all of this, the Marchess betrayal, us getting captured – was part of Otto's plan.” Jack glanced at the oligarch. Apparently, he didn't mind the information being passed on. He waved for Jack to continue. “Suck the Senate into trusting half the oligarchy, then spring the prize fleet with the victorious fleet.”

  “And with most of Etemenos focused on the Cup,” Ellie began.

  “Nobody's minding the store,” Jack finished.

  It was a hell of a plan.

  Jack only saw one problem with it. “Where are you, Ellie? Where's Chloe?” Reluctantly, he added, “And Otto's little brother?”

  “I'm in the Algreil Aerospace booth,” Ellie said. “Rudy is fighting in the Cup right now.”

  So he hadn't run away. Damned fool – but if he was still fighting in the Finals, a finer mechaneer than Jack could have imagined. “He beat Zelph?”

  “He...” Ellie's voice broke.

  Oh, crap. Jack repeated, “Where's Chloe?”

  “They took her, Jack,” Ellie said. “I couldn't stop them. She – either couldn't or wouldn't. Principle help me, Jack, the Animus Hunters –”

  “Where,” Jack growled. To Otto, he said, “We've got a problem.”

  But the oligarch only quirked an eyebrow and kept watching the main screen. If he was keeping tabs on Jack's conversation, he didn't sweat it any.

  “To the president's office,” Ellie said. “Chloe is to go on trial before the full Senate. She may already be.”

  “The senators,” Otto said, “have more pressing concerns.”

  Jack's HUD split to admit the image of his once-and-current boss. Since he could turn to look at Otto in person, he minimized the display.

  “As soon as we've made contact with our people inside the senate chamber,” Otto continued, “I somehow doubt they'll bother giving your adopted daughter any more trouble. No use worrying about an imperial claimant taking over their government when said government is about to surrender to me, now is there?”

  Ellie's gaze never flicked to where Otto must have appeared on her screen. “Is that really true, Jack? The Senate is going to give in?”

  “That's the plan,” Jack said. He thought, how the hell do I know if it's gonna work?

  “Speaking of which...” Otto turned to the Pacific Resolution's quartet of communications officers. “Gentlemen, where are our senators?”

  The coms chief turned, frowning. “I'm sorry, Mr. Algreil, but we haven't be able to reach any of the senators Mrs. Marchess-Algreil instructed us to contact.”

  Otto's eyes narrowed. “Alarie? What about your dad?”

  “I'm sure I don't know, Otto,” Alarie said. “I haven't heard anything from him since the signal to break you and the other prisoners out.”

  “He was supposed to be attending the Senate session,” Otto said. “Coms, what's the chatter coming out of the Senate? Isolate it from the tournament crap and personal broadcasts. We have their private frequencies, right?”

  “That's the trouble, Mr. Algreil,” the coms chief said. “There is no chatter from the senate chamber.”

  Jack met Ellie's eyes. Neither spoke or even messaged, but he could see his worries mirrored in his wife's face.

  I sure hope, Jack thought, Chloe hasn't done something rash.