Angus jerked up his head. “I’m damned,” he murmured in astonishment. “He was serious. That fucker was serious.”
Morn had no idea what he meant—or why Warden might have ordered Hashi to lie to the Council—but she didn’t ask. Hashi wasn’t done.
“Further,” he continued, “she has been told to describe the manipulations by which passage of the Preempt Act was obtained.”
Davies frowned confusion at Morn. He hadn’t heard Angus explain the Preempt Act. Min’s clenched attention, and Dolph’s closed stare, revealed nothing. Angus glanced at them, then whispered to Davies, “I’ll tell you later.”
“Lastly,” Hashi stated, “if corroborative evidence can be obtained, she has been authorized to accuse CEO Fasner of sending kazes against both the GCES and the UMCP.”
Min’s head jerked aside as if to avoid a blow—an instinctive reaction of which she seemed unaware. One hand clutched at her hip, groping for the gun she usually carried. Captain Ubikwe made a choking sound deep in his throat. In the distance Glessen muttered, “Fasner? That bastard?”
Kazes—? Mutely Morn turned to Angus.
He shrugged. Apparently this was a subject he knew nothing about.
Only Patrice attended his board—Patrice and Mikka. The rest of the bridge crew stared at Min in shock or incredulity.
Tensely Min asked her pickup, “Is it true?”
“I believe so.”
Past a veil of thrust static Hashi continued, “You will be unaware that there has been another attack. In addition to the kaze who threatened Captain Vertigus, and the one who slew poor Godsen, a third attempted detonation during a session of the Council, specifically during a session in which Captain Vertigus attempted—and failed—to obtain passage for a Bill of Severance which would have relieved us of the Dragon’s authority.”
Min bit down questions while Hashi said, “Fortunately our casualties were slight—and included none of the Members. Unfortunately the good captain’s Bill was defeated. However—again fortunately—the kaze’s earthly remains hint at his origins.
“Hence our belief that these assaults derive from the great worm in his lair.”
Grimly the DA director finished, “In essence, both Chief of Security Mandich and I have been assigned the same duties. Each in our own province, we must do what we can to substantiate Director Hannish’s accusation. Considering that the emergency session has already begun, the need for evidence is urgent. That is my work, Min, and I mean to do it.”
“Good God, Hashi,” Min breathed when he was done. “He’s going after Fasner. He’s trying to bring the Dragon down.”
“I drew the same conclusion,” Hashi answered laconically.
Min might not have heard him. A moment later she added, “This will kill Warden. Even if he succeeds, it’ll kill him.”
Again Hashi’s voice receded. Clearly he wanted to stop talking and get to work. “Perhaps that explains his willingness to hazard himself aboard Calm Horizons.”
Going after Fasner, Morn thought dumbly. She felt that she’d been stricken stupid. Trying to bring the Dragon down. So much had happened—there was so much she didn’t know. Authorized to accuse—Kazes had attacked the GCES and the UMCP? Sent by Fasner? Hashi said it was true, but it didn’t make sense.
Why in the name of God—?
Vector stood by the command station. Morn hadn’t seen him move: she only realized he was there when he cleared his throat. His eyes shone a clear blue above his soft smile.
Quietly he remarked, “This might be an especially good time for the Council to hear what we have to say.”
He knew no more than she did; had no more to go on. Yet he seemed to grasp the situation better than she did.
Was he right? Was Min? Was Warden Dios at last trying to clean up the UMCP?
She couldn’t think of another explanation. It’ll kill him. He was willing to die in order to challenge the Dragon. Willing to be held hostage—willing to risk mutation—
He’d sent this Koina Hannish to Earth to level charges against CEO Fasner. Then he’d put himself out of reach so that Fasner couldn’t give him any more orders; force him to commit any more crimes.
Or fire him.
Morn reeled inwardly. Gulfs gaped at her on all sides.The sheer scale of the desperation which must have driven Warden to such extremes stunned her. He understood self-destruct as well as she did—
But what if he was wrong? What if Holt Fasner hadn’t sent kazes?—or if Hashi Lebwohl and Chief Mandich failed to find evidence? What then?
Then the UMC CEO might survive the challenge. And the only man in human space who could have opposed him would be gone.
Unless somebody intervened—
Unless somehow Morn did what Vector suggested.
Min had recovered faster than Morn could imagine. She was already in command of herself; prepared to make choices and take action. She may have been training for this crisis all her life.
“All right, Hashi,” she told the pickup decisively. “Two more quick points, and I’ll let you go.
“Can that defensive read our scan net?”
The DA director sighed in the distance. “Surely. This is Earth, not the frontier. The volume of traffic demands data which is both plainly and promptly accessible. Until now we have had no reason to encrypt the net.”
“Then shut it down,” Min ordered. “Our ships can get by with their own sensors.”
“Calm Horizons also has sensors,” Hashi observed.
“Just do it. The less help we give her the better.”
“As you say,” Hashi assented. “And the second point?”
“Tell Center to relay communications from Calm Horizons to me. Also anything from Fasner. And the emergency session. But keep it all tight-beamed. I don’t want eavesdroppers.
“I’ll talk to Center as soon as I sort out some of the confusion here.”
Hashi was in a hurry to leave. “Farewell, Director Donner,” he said at once. “Your orders will be obeyed.” Despite his eagerness, however, he paused long enough to add, “I do not envy you your responsibilities.”
Then an audible click silenced his pickup. The speakers were left with nothing but static and open space.
“Good-bye, Hashi,” Min murmured into the void. “I’ll talk to you again. If we both live long enough.”
She set an example which Morn felt compelled to match. Davies’ wordless urgency required it: Vector’s understanding and Mikka’s prostration and Ciro’s madness begged for it. Captain Ubikwe and his people deserved it. Even Angus Thermopyle, welded and damned, had a right to it.
A better answer.
She couldn’t imagine that Marc Vestabule would allow her time or space to address the Council.
Cray closed the speakers, and a new quiet filled the bridge. Everyone around the command station might have been waiting for Morn to speak.
She didn’t look at any of them. Her eyes were fixed on the scan blip which represented Calm Horizons, where Warden Dios had gone to meet his doom.
“I think,” she said softly, “we should try to rescue him.”
There was no one else who could make the attempt.
KOINA
With a war of one kind impending hundreds of k over her head, and a war of another directly in front of her, Koina Hannish entered the crowded chamber which Abrim Len had decided to use until the Council’s formal meeting hall could be cleaned and refurbished.
This room was normally set aside for conferences with the planet’s news dogs; but the communications gear and data terminals of the video networks had been commandeered, rerouted, and coded for the use of the Members and their aides. The twenty-one voting Members and a restricted number of their aides and advisers clustered at the terminals they’d been assigned, studying UMCPHQ’s downlink, while President Len scurried around the room like a frightened hare, fussily arranging people to suit some standard of precedence or common interest known only to himself. Perhaps, Koina thought, he kep
t himself busy in this way in order to avoid demands or special pleading; attempts to take over the agenda of the emergency session.
In any case no one seemed to pay much attention to him. Most of the room was in the grip of a nascent hysteria which seethed from wall to wall independent of the President. The whole space reeked of visceral terrors like rank sweat.
At first it appeared that there was no place left for her. Despite Len’s restrictions, the chamber already held more people than it had been designed to accommodate. Then she spotted three vacant seats in a corner near the dais usually used by Members to address newsdogs. They didn’t offer access to a terminal; but she didn’t need one. She had two of her PR communications techs with her: one to concentrate on her private downlink, one to keep UMCPHQ informed of what happened here. Deputy Chief Ing and his guards could stand against the walls.
Unfortunately the empty seats were right beside those occupied by UMC First Executive Assistant Cleatus Fane and his staff. Apparently someone—Abrim Len, or Fane himself—thought it was time for the UMC and the UMCP to stand together. The Dragon’s FEA also had no terminal, and didn’t need one: like Koina’s, his people were all communications techs laden with gear—dedicated relays, encryption boxes, transceivers. Cleatus himself had a PCR jacked into one ear and a throat pickup patched beside his larynx. He may have been listening to the downlink, or to instructions from HO: Koina had no way of knowing.
She still reeled inwardly at the most recent news from Center—the news of Warden’s departure for Calm Horizons. And the idea of sitting near Fane made her skin crawl. He was her most dangerous opponent; more her enemy than Maxim Igensard. To postpone the moment when she would have to endure his proximity, she paused inside the doors to take stock of the chamber.
Because she wanted to see a friendly face, she looked first for Captain Vertigus, the United Western Bloc Senior Member. He didn’t appear to be present, however. His Junior Member, Sigurd Carsin, sat shuffling a sheaf of hardcopy between Vest Martingale, the Com-Mine Station Member, and Sen Abdullah, Senior Member for the Eastern Union. In their lesser ways, they were also Koina’s opponents. Sigurd Carsin seemed to attack the UMCP for the same reasons that Sixten Vertigus distrusted Holt Fasner. Vest Martingale was responsible for Maxim Igensard’s appointment as Special Counsel to investigate the Angus Thermopyle case: her constituency’s reputation depended on her efforts to tarnish the UMCP’s integrity. And Sen Abdullah—lean, hawk-faced, and fanatical, with a perpetual sneer between his dark cheeks and his sharp, silver beard—appeared to be on a personal crusade against Warden Dios out of religious fervor or prejudice. However, rumor suggested that his hatred had more to do with money than religion: his constituency had lost staggering sums when Warden had helped “arrange” Holt Fasner’s takeover of Sagittarius Exploration years ago.
Then Koina spotted Sixten. She’d missed him because he was obscured by the Special Counsel. Although Maxim sat in front of Captain Vertigus, his public posture was typically so condensed and deferential that no one would have been hidden by it. However, Sixten had slumped down in his seat until he was almost invisible. His eyes were closed, and his mouth hung open: he was clearly asleep.
Koina shrugged ruefully and continued scanning the room.
She’d only been the UMCP’s PR director for a short time, but she recognized all the Members by name and reputation. Punjat Silat, the Senior Member for the Combined Asian Islands and Peninsulas, was one of the few she believed would make decisions rationally, despite the incipient panic around him. Blaine Manse, the Member for Betelgeuse Primary, was another. Her reputation suggested that she was more interested in sex than politics. But according to Hashi’s reports—inherently more accurate than Godsen’s—Blaine’s countless peccadilloes camouflaged a keen mind with a clear sense of purpose.
Tel Burnish, the Member from Valdor Industrial, usually held himself apart from debates about the UMC and the UMCP. However, now that his Station had been threatened by Calm Horizons he might begin to take sides.
Most of the other Members kept lower profiles, especially those with any history of resistance to the UMC. The fear which poured steadily into the chamber from the UMCPHQ downlink caused them to rally around the only obvious, tangible locus of power: Cleatus Fane. This was patently more comfortable for the “votes” Holt Fasner “owned” outright: New Outreach, Terminus, Sagittarius Unlimited, SpaceLab Annexe, and both Members for the Pacific Rim Conglomerate. Men and women who’d occasionally voted against the Dragon, or who’d made efforts to disguise their loyalties, had a more awkward time approaching the only reassurance any of them could imagine.
The UMCP belonged to Holt Fasner. He possessed virtually all the effective muscle in human space. If he couldn’t save the Members—who were, after all, trapped on Suka Bator because Warden Dios had sealed the island after the most recent kaze attack—no one could.
Koina Hannish had been sent here to cause even more panic. And the mood of the Council was already against her. Many of the Members were arrayed in opposition. That tightened her own fear to a pitch she wasn’t sure she could stand.
Did she really believe that she would be able to carry out Warden’s orders? What if undermining him now proved to be the worst mistake she could possibly make? What then?
Then she might find herself praying for Punisher to fire down ruin on the island. Death would be easier to face than her culpability for a disaster of such magnitude.
But Warden didn’t consider it a mistake.
He’d had any number of opportunities to rescind his orders—yet he’d left them in force. Nothing has changed. Go ahead. He’d taken himself to the Amnioni, knowing what Koina would do on Earth: what she might do, if she had the courage; and might succeed at, if Hashi Lebwohl or Chief of Security Mandich supplied her with evidence in time. Then the question became, not, Would she be able to obey him? but, Could she bear to let him down?
Across the room, Abrim Len caught her eye and gestured frantically toward the seats he’d reserved for her. At the same time Forrest Ing stepped to her side and touched her arm.
“You’d better take your place, Director,” he said in her ear. “From the look of things, Len’ll have a coronary if he doesn’t get this session started soon.”
She nodded. “Security has this room covered, I hope,” she whispered. “A kaze here now—”
A blast in this constricted space wouldn’t leave any damage for the Amnion to do.
“We’re using all our own people,” Forrest answered softly. “We’ve screened them down to their genes. And the Members have vouched personally for everyone with them. I think you’re safe.” He paused to frown at the FEA, then added, “Unless Fane or one of his techs is full of explosives and wants to die.”
Koina nodded again. No doubt Cleatus was full of explosives—metaphorically speaking. But she was sure he had no intention of committing suicide. The Dragon didn’t attract that kind of loyalty. If Hashi was right, the recent attacks hadn’t been designed to destroy the GCES. Instead they were meant to strengthen Fasner’s hold on the UMCP.
With the Deputy Chief at her side, she shifted through the crowd toward her assigned seat When her techs were settled, and Forrest had taken a place at the wall behind her, she sat down.
Cleatus gave her an iron smile as she took her place. Ordinarily he projected the benevolence of a Father Christmas: he had a talent for it. But he’d set aside his air of expansive generosity. His eyes held a lupine glitter, and his beard bristled like wire.
“Director Hannish.” He inclined his head in a small bow. “I’m here, as you requested.” As Forrest Ing had urged on her behalf. “I must say, I’m eager to learn why you considered such a message necessary. Or appropriate. Perhaps we’ll be able to discuss it later.
“You played your part well in the last session.” His tone repaid the threat Forrest had implied for her. “But this time we aren’t ‘playing.’ I hope you realize that. Your Warden Dios has refused to speak to the
CEO since this crisis started. Whether you know it or not, he’s left you out on a limb. If I have to, I’ll cut it off.
“If I have to,” he promised quietly, “I’ll reduce the whole damn tree to kindling.”
Koina replied with a smile of her own—a smooth, bland, professional expression, immaculate and meaningless. “You’re kind to warn me.” She kept her voice low. “May I ask you a question?”
Fane let her see his teeth. “Of course.”
“I’m curious. How old are you?”
He closed his mouth. His eyes widened slightly, as if she’d suggested an insult. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Her smile brightened. “Nothing at all. As I say, it’s mere curiosity. I was wondering whether CEO Fasner has shared any of his medical longevity with you.”
She meant, How long do you think he’ll keep you alive? What do you really think you’re worth to him?
The FEA appeared to understand her. He met her gaze without blinking. “As it happens, Director Hannish, I’m in exceptionally good health.”
“I’m so glad.” Behind her professional mask, she was secretly pleased—and relieved—that she could still hold her own despite her fear. “There’s already too much death in the air.”
She didn’t think he would heed her own warning. But his scowl showed that he’d heard it.
While she’d been speaking to Cleatus, President Len had at last made his way to the dais and picked up his ceremonial mace—what Hashi called his “cudgel.” Now he began to bang it on the podium.
“Order, please.” He hefted the mace as if he might need it to ward off blows. “This is an emergency session of the Governing Council for Earth and Space. Come to order, please.”
The tense exchanges of the Members and their aides were stilled almost immediately. Worry throbbed across the silence.
“You all know why we’re here.” Len sounded weary to the point of exhaustion; reluctant; beaten. His stance behind the podium seemed oddly vulnerable. Neither his personality nor his experience fitted him to lead the Council in a time of war. “You’ve been listening to the downlink. But if you’re as scared as I am”—he sighed—“you may find the whole crisis a little confusing. Just to get us started, I’ll ask UMCPPR Director Koina Hannish to explain it. She may know something we don’t.”