Chapter 25 – Piecing the Puzzle Together

As the afternoon wore on, Delbert was becoming increasingly frustrated. Contrary to what he had told Amelia, he still had many concerns regarding her plan. He knew there had to be a better way – one that didn't involve her selflessly sacrificing herself to the enemy.

A bit melodramatic, old boy?

Delbert glared at the voice inside his head – the one that always tried to be the voice of reason when his heart had other plans.

It's not melodramatic, he argued with himself. He had heard the horror stories of Amelia's previous skirmishes. He himself had seen the effects of the battle already fought in the course of this mission. The enemy, while smaller than previous fleets faced, still posed a decided threat.

Besides, she can't very well be the mother of your children, if she's bloody dead, can she?

Bloody dead? He sighed. He'd definitely been around Amelia far too long. He was even starting to pick up on her speech patterns. He wondered if she did the same. Considering he hadn't seen her stumble over her words, or carpets for that matter, he highly doubted it.

As he gathered his charts together off his desk, he gave the office he, Roderick and Rupert were sharing a final glance, making certain he'd left nothing behind. Satisfied he had everything he needed, Delbert made his way to the door and opened it, inhaling deeply as the clean scent of the cosmos swept by him and then cringed as the sudden breeze lifted the stack of papers placed carefully on the edge of Antonius' desk and blew them throughout the room, covering the once-immaculate floor in a layer of white parchment. Frowning in ill-contained frustration, Delbert bent down to gather the scattered papers when a communications log caught his eye. Ronan? He blinked, certain he wasn't seeing it correctly, but when he opened his eyes again, it was still there, daring him to refute its existence. He picked it up and brought it closer to his glasses.

Outgoing transmissions: Montressor. Montressor. Creshenthia. Montressor. Ronan. Montressor.

He stopped.

Ronan.

He had seen it. His eyes quickly scanned the outgoing ID attached to the log, and his heart dropped as the name registered in his brain. It couldn't be. It just couldn't. But it was. It stood there, glaring at him, taunting him with its subsistence. And knowing there was no way to tamper with the imprinted communication logs, he had no choice but to believe what his eyes were showing him.

"Antonius. But why? It doesn't make any sense," he muttered. Forcing himself to mentally step back, Delbert pulled the analytical side of his nature to the forefront and let it take control.

Rupert was Renan. Of that much he was certain. Genetics didn't lie. But where were his loyalties? This evidence led to Ronan. But why?

Settling himself in front of a terminal, Delbert put his mind in motion as his fingers danced over the keypad seeking out the information he so desperately needed.

XXX

"As you can see gentlemen, there are no other options."

Amelia waited, in silence, as her words floated across the stateroom, allowing Lightoller and Wellington a moment to absorb them. The three had been in conference for nearly two hours, as Amelia had detailed the turncoat in their midst. Words had been flung across the heavy wooden table as plan after plan was debated. In the end, Amelia had stubbornly clung to her initial idea. Lightoller's frown wasn't lost on her, but it was Wellington who spoke first after the initial shock wore away.

"I don't like it, Captain." He shook his head violently. "Not one bit. The risk is far too great. Especially for you." He cocked his head in Lightoller's direction. "What is your opinion, sir?"
Lightoller gave his Captain a hard stare. "The Captain knows my position on her plan. But regardless of personal feelings, I will, of course, obey her command to the last letter."

"Which is what makes you such a fine officer." Amelia chose to ignore the soft snort of disagreement that came from the other side of the table where Lightoller sat, instead pressing on in her conversation. "So we shall lure the enemy in to battle and in the midst of the action, I shall make my way to their ship and "recruit" a few hands to bring back to the Legacy."

"I still don't like it," Wellington muttered.

Bringing a hand down firmly to the table, palm flat against the polished surface, Amelia let out a sharp sigh of frustration. "Well, short of someone bursting in here and handing the name of the turncoat in our midst, I fail to see any other option."

To be continued …

A/N

Hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. For you eagle eyes out there, it is Creshenthia and not Crescentia. I'm referring to the backwater planet they visited "Business Before Pleasure." But way to rock if you caught that!

More to come this week. I am in the middle of an inventory at work, so I can't promise when it will be. But Chapter 26 will definitely be posted no later than Friday. If you have time, please leave me a review. They really do make it all worthwhile!