Wing Commander #07 False Color William Forstchen (top 10 books to read .txt) 📖

looked toward the big window that overlooked the floor of Tycho, an unfathomable expression in his eyes.

"There were some other things we were developing," he said softly, "other things that at times I'm not really sure of, but they would never have been ready in time."

"Such as?" Richard's asked casually.

Tolwyn looked up, smiled and shook his head. "On hold now, so of no consequence unless they might be needed later on."

That made Bondarevsky frown again. It seemed so out of character for Geoff Tolwyn, one of the most decent men he'd ever met, to be involved in a project that would have led to mass genocide. Behemoth, a massive weapons platform designed to destroy an entire planet, would have killed countless noncombatants on Kilrah if it had been unleashed. The Temblor Bomb had done the same thing in the end, but that had been the brainchild of General James "Paladin" Taggart of Special Operations, an outfit that fought under the unofficial motto "Any Path to Victory." Tolwyn had ways seemed more like a gentlemanly officer of the school, willing to do what had to be done to win, t always trying to stay on the right side of the line that marked the difference between civilized warfare and mere slaughter.

"Well, Geoff, you're past all that now," Richards said softly. "You've got a new start to look forward to out in the Landreich."

"I thought I saw in the news, sir, that you didn't take retirement," Bondarevsky ventured, feeling unsure of himself. It was awkward trying to make small talk with Admiral Tolwyn. The man had been his mentor and patron for years . . . but he'd also committed some terrible blunders lately, and it was hard to know which of his two sides he was talking to now. "Did you change your mind?"

Tolwyn shook his head. "Not exactly. I'm officially still on the Admiral's List, but it's been made very clear that I'm not likely to see so much as a Supply Depot command for the foreseeable future. I'm on an extended leave, as it were . . . very extended. And free to take up other positions, so long as I'm available if our lords and masters should suddenly decide I'd be useful. I feel like a fighting Admiral after Napoleon was defeated, beached on half-pay."

"Don't you figure that's just what they'll do, if they hear you're heading out to Landreich?" Richards demanded. "You've made a lot of enemies over the years, Geoff, and you could be handing them the perfect opportunity to land you in some real trouble."

Tolwyn shook his head. "Not bloody likely," he said. "First off, I've accumulated enough leave that I can take my time coming back even if I do get orders to report. But the fact is, even the ones who're out for my blood will be just as happy to see the back of me." He gave a quiet sigh. "I'm just not that important any more, Vance. I spent all my clout on Behemoth, and then I blew it."

"Then you should make the break final and resign, Geoff," Richards told him. "Come out to the Landreich and get a brand new start in life."

"You know me, Vance," Tolwyn said. His broad, weathered face had the stubborn expression Bondarevsky had seen a dozen times in the middle of a battle, the look of a man determined to see it through his way or not at all. "I like to keep my options open. Right now there's nothing to tie me to the Confederation. I'm as effectively retired as I would be if I'd sent my papers in. But some day things could be different . . ." and his voice trailed off.

"So you're telling me you're still not really committing to the FRLN, is that it?" Richards' voice held a note of irritation. "Kruger isn't going to be happy, Geoff. He doesn't like people with divided loyalties."

"Well, he doesn't have to like me," Tolwyn said. "But that's the only way I come aboard, Vance. If you guys really want me, those are the terms. I won't run out on you when you need me . . . but I have to be able to keep my options open. I'm still loyal to the Confederation. Someday there might be something I can do to make up for what happened with Behemoth, and I aim to be able to be there for it."

Richards shrugged. "If that's the way you want it, Geoff," he said. "I just wish I understood what it is you think is going to change around here."

Tolwyn gave him a tight-lipped smile. "You're the intelligence man, Vance. You find out, and I'll tell you if you've got it right."

Bondarevsky looked from Richards to Tolwyn, sensing the strong undercurrent of unspoken thoughts and emotions. He agreed with Richards . . . he wished he knew what it was that Tolwyn was holding back. After the Behemoth disaster, he was worried about Tolwyn's possible performance. His management of that last campaign had been a poor job compared to the operations Bondarevsky had seen him involved in previously. If he'd lost his edge, would he be able to get it back? And how did his secret plans for the future enter into it all?

As if aware of the younger man's scrutiny, Tolwyn turned to meet his gaze with ice-blue eyes. "You're quiet, Mr. Bondarevsky," he remarked. "How much do you know about the situation out in the Landreich?"

"Not much, sir," he said. "I've learned to take the news reports with enough salt to fill up a hangar deck, but aside from a few dark hints from Admiral Richards I can't say I really know what's going on out there . . or how we're supposed to be a part of it all."

"You're smart to ignore TNC, at least," Richards commented. "Did you catch that report by Barbara Miles last night?"

"The pirate raid story?" Tolwyn asked.

"Yeah." When Bondarevsky shook his head Richards leaned forward in