Jiron said, “Yes, sir,” and handed over a chip containing messages from Yan.
He looked up when Lujan emerged from his office shortly before oh-nine-hundred. “Fourteen-thirty for the ambassador, sir.”
“Thanks,” Lujan said. “I’ll be off the pager until the briefing’s over.”
The command conference room had grown crowded with more of the Unified Defense Directorate in attendance lately. Aides and junior officers from the various worlds stood against the angled walls behind their respective senior officers, displaced from even the last rows of seats. Lujan took his place near the head of the table and returned the others’ nodded greetings.
The lieutenant at the podium appeared grim. “Ladies and gentlemen, this briefing is classified Unified Worlds Secret. The information is current as of oh-seven-fifty local.”
He touched a button, lighting the holotank with an image of Saede. Standard symbols and dotted lines arcing out like planetary rings depicted the world’s territorial space and the operation areas of Unified and Isselan spacecraft. “At approximately oh-two-twenty local,” he said, “the Sostish patrol craft Prevoyance was fired on by an Isselan-flagged ship, probably an observer of the Saedese exercises which began four days ago.
“Prevoyance was patrolling parallel to but outside the boundary of the planetary defense zone at the time.” The officer slid an arrow along the reported heading, pointing out the locations of the vessels involved. “According to the captain’s report, the Isselan ship was following a parallel course along the edge of the planetary zone, apparently shadowing Prevoyance. Its captain claims that Prevoyance violated the planetary zone and that he attempted twice to establish communications to warn the Sostish craft away before opening fire.
“Another Sostish vessel and a Topawan patrol craft operating within tracking range of Prevoyance confirmed that the stricken ship was well outside the planetary defense zone and moving further from the area when the Isselan craft closed on it from behind and began shooting. Captain Claydor of the Topawan vessel Chermenke reported that she had been monitoring the Isselan ship for some time because it had already crossed into interplanetary space twice in the course of its patrol.”
The holotank blinked to display a broadside view of a Sostish patrol craft with a gouge across its stern. The briefer said, “This hologram, made by personnel aboard Chermenke as she approached to assist, shows that the bursts were probably fired from a position one hundred seventy degrees relative to Prevoyance’s heading. Prevoyance sustained damage to her external hull, but she was reported capable of powered movement as of oh-three-forty. Five crewmembers injured in the attack are in satisfactory condition. The incident is under investigation by both Unified and Isselan authorities.”
Probably the reason for the ambassador’s visit, Lujan thought. But why does the man want to see me? And why is Issel so nervous about the Unified Worlds observing an exercise on Saede?
* *
When Jiron came to his office door at fourteen-thirty and said, “Sir, the ambassador’s here,” Lujan switched off the message traffic on his terminal, closed it down into his desktop, and nodded to his executive officer.
He appraised the man who entered with only a look. “Ambassador Kapolas,” he said, and gestured. “Please be seated.”
Kapolas lowered his bulky frame into the indicated chair and pressed his fingertips together in a steeple. “Admiral Sergey,” he said, “my government appeals to the Unified Worlds to cease its threatening postures toward Saede. The Saedese want only peace and security. They have no aggressive intentions against Sostis or the Unified Worlds.”
Lujan concealed surprise. “What particular activity does your government perceive as threatening, Ambassador?”
“Don’t toy with me, Admiral,” the ambassador said. “Several of the Unified Worlds have patrol craft operating along Saede’s planetary defense zone at this moment. Surely you are aware of this morning's incident?”
Lujan gave a slight nod.
“We regret that our captain found it necessary to fire on the vessel,” said Kapolas. “We sincerely hope it won’t become necessary again.”
“I’ll relay your regrets to Governor Gisha,” Lujan said with the barest suggestion of sarcasm. His eyes narrowed on Kapolas’ and his tone turned serious. “The patrols will continue, however, until your government ends its military exercise on Saede. The unusual activity of the troops and combat vessels involved are a matter of great concern to the Sostish government. They see it as a threat to their own security.”
He noted how Kapolas moved uneasily in his chair before he shrugged. “We have provided the Saedese with some defensive systems, of course, along with the technicians and training necessary for their implementation. But I assure you, Admiral, that they are strictly defensive weapons.”
The Saedese, Lujan thought. No mention of the Bacalli. He let his vision burn into the other man’s soul. “In order that there be no mistake about the Sostish position on this,” he said, “World Governor Gisha has prepared a declaration warning Issel to expect the most serious consequences if there is any escalation of activity in the Saede system. You will make certain that this message is unequivocally clear to your government, Ambassador.”
* *
“Of primary interest, ladies and gentlemen, is the increase in deployment activity in the Issel system since Renier’s return five days ago.” The ensign from Sostish Space Fleet Intelligence switched on the holotank. “According to sources on Issel, transports of the type diverted from the public commuter system have been observed in flight between several major transshipment points, including the spaceports at Sanabria, Rempel, and Gualata.” She guided the arrow on her video repeater to each red dot on the projected map. “Shuttling to the orbital docks appears to have begun.
“In related activity, two probable Vuki-class destroyers and a starcraft carrier have been sighted at an Isselan orbital station which has served only freighters in the past. The number of vessels at the military space docks has continued to increase as well.
“Logistics activity has also begun on Saede.” An image of that world appeared in the holotank, and the briefer continued, “Surface freight counts at the main transshipment areas on the Unkai peninsula have tripled, and up to six transports have transitted from the continent in the last twenty-four standard hours.
“During that same reporting period, two more Bacalli troop ships have arrived in the vicinity of the peninsula. The additional troops are believed to be masuk transfers from Adriat military colleges.
“There have been dramatic changes in Issel Sector space fleet orders of battle during the past week as well.” The ensign pressed a button and a chart full of numbers came up in the holotank. “The first column gives the normal number of ships, by class, in Isselan, Adriat, and Saedese inventories,” she said. “The second column gives the current counts by location.”
She allowed her audience a few moments to study the chart.
On an impulse, Lujan began punching numbers into his microwriter and comparing the totals. His mouth tightened at the results.
At the podium the ensign was saying, “There was another violation yesterday of Yan’s planetary space by an Isselan reconnaissance drone—the second occurrence in four days.” The holotank blinked, showing a map of Yan’s eastern hemisphere with a flight profile marked over it. “The drone was visually identified by a Cathana-based pilot who intercepted and destroyed it.
“In both cases, the intruders were short-range platforms, probably launched by one of the Isselan vessels patrolling the Yan Sector. All are capable of carrying drones.” A three-dimensional model of the intruder rotated in the holotank, and the briefer said, “We expect this collection activity to continue.”
She paused, looking over the conference room. “Last week our combined analysis team projected that Issel would need a month to launch an offensive. If preparations continue at their current pace, however, it’s poss
ible we could see it launched in as little as ten days. This concludes the briefing, ladies and gentlemen. May I answer any questions?”
“What tactics or techniques are being utilized in the Saedese exercises?” asked the Commander-in-Chief of Sostis’ Surface Forces.
The ensign said, “Mostly airmobile assault and ground warfare in a rain forest environment, sir. The entire Unkai peninsula is heavily wooded. This type of activity would suggest training for an attack on Yan’s Cathana Range complex; the terrain is very similar.”
“And their weapon systems?” CINC SURFOR persisted.
“Soldier-portable projectile launchers and energy weapons, sir,” the briefer said. “The region isn’t conducive to the use of mechanized systems or troop vehicles. Much of the activity has been carried out in a simulated chemical environment.”
There was silence for several moments at that.
Then a general from Topawa said, “I understand, Ensign, that masuki are not subordinate as a species, particularly in dealing with races they consider to be inferior, such as humans. What have these exercises shown about that?”
The briefer said, “There have been some problems noted, sir. At least one human officer reportedly has been killed by masuk soldiers for disciplining other masuki. In their slave-keeping culture, which prefers taking prisoners over killing the enemy, such a murder is the deepest kind of insult, as it implies that the victim is without value. No action has been taken against the killers, probably out of fear of further retaliation.”
Whispered comments rippled through the hall.
“Are there any other questions?” the ensign asked.
“Yes,” said Lujan. “I’d like to see the orders of battle again.”
The chart materialized in the holotank.
He studied it for a long minute. “There’s a discrepancy between the former and current totals,” he said. “The equivalent of three carrier groups isn’t accounted for here. Do you have locations for them?”
The ensign said, “We expect they’re still in transit, sir.”
“Confirm it,” Lujan said, “or find them. I want to know where they are.”
* *
In the Strategy Center, Governor Gisha studied the images in the map table. “What’s the status of our space forces?” she asked without looking up.
“The Sixth and Eighth fleets are assembled and on-loading,” said CINC SPAFLT, “and the planetary reserves are being mobilized. Our First and Fifth fleets are continuing normal planetary defense ops.”
“How long before the Sixth and Eighth will be ready to launch?”
CINC SPAFLT said, “By tomorrow, Your Honor.”
“Good. And the reserves?”
“They’re mostly merchant ships for resupply. That may take up to ten days.”
“We may not have ten days.” Gisha pushed away from the table and began to pace. “How does our capability compare to Issel’s?”
“The Sixth Fleet task force consists of seven spacecraft carrier groups, and the Eighth has six. The First and Fifth fleets each have six, and there are nearly five hundred reserve boats,” CINC SPAFLT said. “You saw the Isselan orders of battle in the briefing, ma’am. Renier will probably reinforce his fleets with Adriat as well as Bacalli ships, since most masuk vessels are little more than troop carriers. Adriat still has a large, viable space force, although most of its ships are of Great War vintage.”
Gisha nodded. “You expect a massive attack against Yan, then?”
“I doubt Renier has a choice, Your Honor,” said the Chief of Defense. “If he loses his bid for Yan, he’ll have lost his campaign for Sostis, too.”
Gisha came back to the table to study it once more. “What’s the EFT from here to Yan?”
“Seven standard days,” said CINC SPAFLT.
“Seven days . . .” Gisha repeated, and glanced up. “And from Issel?”
“Five days. Four from Saede.”
Gisha looked across at CINC SPAFLT. “By tomorrow I want the Sixth and Eighth Fleets on standby to move out for Yan, along with every resupply ship we have ready.”
Eighteen
Avuse paused at the threshold of the dining room. “Messenger for you, sir.”
Tristan glanced around as Renier rose from the table.
Behind Avuse stood the black man from the Communications Center.
Tristan put down his utensil. He couldn’t hear the conversation but he saw how the sergeant looked at him around the governor’s shoulder. Hard, like a blow to the face.
Like a warning.
He couldn’t eat anymore. “I want to be excused,” he said to Larielle, his mouth suddenly so dry he could scarcely get the words out.
She didn’t ask why, just said, “All right,” but he felt her watching as he pushed himself back and beckoned to Pulou.
Turning away from the table, he tripped. He barely caught himself, by the back of his own chair and b’Anar Id Pa’an’s. The masuk withdrew his foot and leered at him. “Clumsy pup!” He reached over with his knife to spear the meat left on Tristan’s plate. He tore half of it from the point and chewed so that it showed between his teeth and tongue.
Tristan glowered at him for a moment, hands knotted. Then he turned his back.
He could almost hear Pulou release his breath.
In his room he stripped off boots and jacket and shirt and squatted down to trace a pattern in the carpet.
Pulou perched on the bed behind him. “Something’s wrong, little brother. It’s what?”
“I don’t know,” Tristan said.
“You know how?”
“Dark man in there.” He nodded in the direction of the dining room. “He looks at me and his eyes say ‘danger.’”
Pulou blinked, cocking his head. “You do what?”
“Think of ways out.”
“At night?”
“Yes,” said Tristan.
He had grown drowsy with waiting when he heard voices in the corridor outside his room. Fully awake at once, he sat still and listened. The governor’s voice. And Pa’an’s. But he couldn’t make out all the words. On hands and knees he slipped up to the door, crouched, pressed his ear to it.
“. . . transport from Ganwold docked at Delta Station earlier this evening,” said the governor.
“At last,” said Pa’an. His tone seemed a snarl. He asked, “What of its passenger? The woman?”
“The message the captain relayed to me,” said the governor, “stated that she was taken directly to the colonial medical facility after she was brought in from among the natives. The personnel there were able to stabilize her before she was taken aboard the ship, but they consider her condition incurable. They were unable to determine what it is.” The governor paused. “Perhaps including that information with my next message will encourage my old friend Lujan Sergey to take some action at last. . . .”
Tristan stiffened, listening. “My mother!” He pushed away from the door, twisting around to stare at Pulou. “They bring my mother here, to Delta Station—and they tell my father!”
* *
Striding on down the corridor, Pa’an shrugged. “Perhaps it would be more effective to let her die.”
“No.” Renier’s hand tightened on the grip of his walking stick. “That hasn’t become necessary yet.”
“I think that it has.” The masuk stopped walking and turned, blocking the governor’s way. “The Unified Worlds have not reacted to your provocations, Sector General, except to prepare their defenses.”
“I’m aware of that,” Renier said. “But it’s of no concern to us.”
“Your window for success is growing smaller.”
“Not necessarily. Our real strike force will soon be fully assembled.”
“My forces are already sufficient,” said Pa’an, “to accomplish the Pasha’s purposes.”
“What do you mean by that?” Renier clipped the words, his features hardenin
g.
Pa’an showed his canines. “My sire’s world needs human slaves, Sector General, and it does not matter to my sire what world they are brought from. If the supply from Sostis is denied us, then slaves from Issel will suffice.”
“You jackal!” Renier spat it.
“It is a necessity,” said Pa’an. “Please remember, Governor, that I have command of the Pasha’s soldiers and they are already within your system.”
Renier stared at him. “You wouldn’t dare!”
Pa’an cut him off with a motion of his hand. “The hostages,” he said, and smiled again, slightly. “It is ironic about hostages. Some must be killed to give the others value with which to barter.” He eyed Renier. “Make a choice, Sector General. Which one of them is worth more to you?”
The governor hesitated. “Kill the boy,” he said.
Pa’an reached for the knife in his belt and started to turn.
Renier caught his arm. “No. That’s too easy. I’ve waited a long time for the opportunity to teach Lujan Sergey what it means to ache for the loss of what he loves. I’ll take care of the boy myself.”
* *
Tristan fingered the lock panel. “Door’s closed on outside!” He tapped the switch impatiently and glanced around the room. “This way, Pulou,” he said suddenly. “We go through latrine and out through Rajak’s room. It’s not locked.” Scooping up his boots with one hand, he said, “Be quiet,” and reached for the latrine door—
—as Rajak, only a shadow in the darkness, stepped through it. “Not very smart, Tristan,” he said.
The boots swung up, more out of reflex than by design, catching Rajak in the jaw and snapping his head back so he staggered.
“Pulou, go!” Tristan said. “Go! I come behind you!”
He swung the boots at Rajak’s head again and tried to duck past him. The other countered the blow this time, striking the boots from his grip. He caught Tristan’s arm and twisted it behind his back. Pain lanced through Tristan’s shoulder, forcing him to his knees.
“That’s enough, Rajak.”
Tristan jerked his head up, startled, as the room’s lighting came on.