“Director Hannish and Chief Mandich have perhaps not been informed that our Angus Thermopyle, Isaac né Joshua, has escaped forbidden space with a remarkable combination of companions. In particular I refer to Morn Hyland, first Captain Thermopyle’s victim, then Captain Succorso’s.
“This is an unexpected development for several reasons. On your direct orders, Isaac’s datacore was explicitly written to preclude the possibility that he might save Ensign Hyland’s life.” Then Warden had switched that datacore for another; a new set of instructions. But this secret was Warden’s to reveal or hide: Hashi had no intention of exposing it. He only used it to put pressure on the director. “She is—or has been—thought dangerous to our purposes. Only a strange, unforeseeable sequence of events could have led to her presence aboard Trumpet.”
“What ‘purposes’?” Koina asked quickly; intently.
Hashi ignored her to concentrate on Warden.
“In addition,” he continued, “we have reason to suspect that she has been a prisoner of the Amnion, delivered to them by Captain Succorso to gain some end we can hardly imagine. Thus it is doubly strange that she now accompanies our Captain Thermopyle. Did she escape? If so, how? Was she released? If so, why?”
The DA director was not entirely prepared to surrender his hypothesis that Morn might be a type of genetic kaze: ruin aimed at the UMCP. Angus had rescued Morn—privately Warden had admitted as much—but that didn’t erase other possibilities.
Warden frowned as Hashi finished. For a long moment he kept his grip on Hashi’s eyes: he may have been searching to find out how much Hashi knew—or guessed. Then he nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Forgive me, Director,” Koina put in insistently. She remained almost motionless in her seat, yet she gave the impression that she’d risen to her feet. A low tremor flawed her tone without softening her manner. “Director Lebwohl said ‘purposes.’ ‘Our purposes.’ In what sense is it conceivable that Ensign Hyland could be a threat to any purpose of ours?
“I heard Director Lebwohl tell the Council why we let Captain Succorso have her. I didn’t like that, but this sounds a lot worse. She’s one of our people. Why in God’s name would a UMCP cyborg’s datacore be ‘explicitly written to preclude’ rescuing her? I would have said that violates our purposes more than anything she might say or do.”
No doubt Min Donner would have approved Koina’s objection. To the extent that he was capable of thinking clearly, Chief Mandich surely felt the same. Nevertheless Hashi was not swayed by it. Deliberately he pushed his glasses up on his nose. The smear of the unnecessary lenses aided his concentration.
Now more than ever he needed to understand Warden Dios.
Although Warden sat still, his frame seemed to intensify, almost to swell, as if he were taking on mass from the air and ambience of his office. He faced the PR director with an un-giving glare while she spoke. When he responded, his voice was gravid with bile and self-coercion. Each word was as exact as the flash of a laser.
“Director Hannish, how did we get the Preempt Act passed?”
She answered without relaxing her insistence. “A traitor in Com-Mine Security conspired with Angus Thermopyle to steal supplies.” Beneath her professional polish and her womanish softness, Hashi realized, she was tougher than departed Godsen Frik had ever been. “That scared the Council. The Members decided that if they couldn’t trust local Station Security they had no choice but to expand our jurisdiction.”
Warden nodded. “Would the Act have passed if the Council hadn’t been scared?”
A twist of her mouth suggested a shrug. “They voted it down on two previous occasions.”
“Exactly.” Warden’s voice sounded sharp enough to draw blood; perhaps his own. “But the Members were mistaken. We misled them. The ‘traitor’ in Com-Mine Security didn’t conspire with Angus Thermopyle. He conspired with us. We framed Captain Thermopyle to scare the Council. So the Act would pass.”
The director’s compressed strength dominated the room. “Ensign Hyland knows he’s innocent,” he finished. “She was there. And I’m sure she’ll say so, if anyone asks her the right questions.
“You can tell Igensard that, too, if it ever comes up.”
Koina recoiled as if Warden had flicked his fingers in her face. A pallor of betrayal seemed to leech the color from her cheeks; even from her eyes. Indignation and confusion appeared to flush through Chief Mandich in waves, staining his skin with splotches like the marks of an infection. Knowledge which was commonplace to Hashi had never reached the Security Chief, or the new PR director. Min Donner and even Godsen Frik had known how to keep their hearts closed.
In one sense Hashi noticed the reactions of his companions. But in another he paid no attention to them at all. He wanted to applaud and throw up his hands simultaneously. Warden had astonished him again.
The director was willing to reveal the truth behind the passage of the Preempt Act. That was immensely exciting. It shed an amazing amount of light on the nature of Warden’s game: too much light for Hashi to absorb in an instant. He found himself almost blinking in its brilliance. Yet that same revelation was also appallingly dangerous. When the truth was laid bare, the UMCP director—and all his senior staff—would be summarily fired. At best. At worst they might even find themselves facing capital charges.
Just when the Amnion had committed an act of war, humankind’s only defense would be plunged into total disarray.
“My God,” Chief Mandich breathed as if he were unable to stop himself. “Did Director Donner know? Was she part of it?”
For him that may have been the essential question. Could he still trust the ED director? His rectitude was founded on hers. Could he continue to believe that she was honest?
Hashi would have dismissed the issue as trivial; but Warden faced it squarely.
“Yes.” His tone was final, fatal: it permitted no argument. “But understand this. We did what we did on the direct orders of my lawful superior, Holt Fasner.” He stressed the word lawful with a bitterness like concentrated sulfuric acid. “And those orders included secrecy. There would have been no point to it if we hadn’t kept it secret.”
Did he mean to make that public as well? Did he intend that Koina should name the Dragon’s role in the conduct of the UMCP before the Council itself?
Of course he did.
The prospect took Hashi’s breath away. He flapped a hand in Chief Mandich’s direction as if he were trying to shoo Security’s petty honesty from the room. The nature of Warden’s game transcended such considerations.
Hashi couldn’t inhale enough to raise his voice. Softly he murmured, “Yet you choose to reveal it now.”
“Yes,” Warden rasped without hesitation. “Listen to me, all of you.” He aimed his single gaze in turn at Koina, at Hashi, at Chief Mandich. “Get this straight. I choose to reveal it now.”
Now, when the GCES had just been stampeded into rejecting a Bill of Severance which would have broken the Dragon’s hold on the UMCP.
Hashi’s lungs strained for air.
Would it work? Would Warden succeed at toppling Holt Fasner with his own fall?
Perhaps. With Hashi’s help: perhaps. These revelations, these unguessed gravitons of information, might well lack the force to pull Fasner from his throne unaided. The great worm was profoundly entrenched. They could be augmented, however—
An almost childlike sense of affection for his director swelled in Hashi’s chest. At the same time he felt that he had been personally exalted by several orders of magnitude. Suddenly he was aware that he could comprehend and participate in the quantum energies of this crisis on a scale which would have been impossible for him only moments earlier. A blaze of illumination had effaced the shame of his incapacity to grasp Warden’s game.
He found himself beaming unselfconsciously, like a senile old man. A joy as acute as terror throbbed in his veins.
He knew at once that he would give the UMCP director all the help he could.
&
nbsp; Baffled by a rush of information he was unable to manage, Chief Mandich retreated into a pose of clenched stolidity. He belonged to ED; and as Min Donner had sometimes said, ED was the fist of the UMCP, not the brain. The Security Chief was accustomed to using his mind for his own duties, not for analyzing the underlying purpose of Warden’s policies. Hashi felt sure that Mandich was full of outrage. He was also sure, however, that the Chief would continue to take orders—and carry them out faithfully—at least until Min Donner returned to account for herself.
Koina may have understood Warden’s intent as little as Mandich did, but she responded differently.
“Director Dios,” she said coldly, “I’ll certainly tell Special Counsel Igensard—as soon as an appropriate occasion presents itself.” The chill in her voice was extreme. Her inflections might have been rimed with ice. “But that’s a secondary issue. Under the circumstances, whether or not the UMCP has any integrity”—she froze the word to such brittleness that it threatened to shatter—“can’t be our first concern. The Amnion have committed an act of war. That’s primary.
“Are you going to tell the Council?”
“Of course.” A tightening around Warden’s eyes made Hashi think he found the question painful. “That’s the law. It’s also my duty.
“But first I want to know where events are going, what the stakes are. If I can’t tell the Members what the threat actually is, they’re liable to do something stupid.”
Indeed they were. Hashi agreed completely. From a historical perspective, it was plain that elected officials acting in legislative bodies seldom did anything which could not be called stupid. And in this case the difficulties were greatly increased by the fact that many of the Members derived their positions, directly or indirectly, from Holt Fasner—who in turn derived much of his wealth and power from trade with the Amnion.
Koina appeared to grant Warden’s reply a provisional assent. However, he had already moved on as if he neither wanted nor needed any acknowledgment from her.
“Which brings us,” he said mordantly, “back to Suka Bator.
“You three were there. Chief Mandich, you’ve been made responsible for security on the Council island. In particular you were responsible for security during this extraordinary session of the GCES.”
The Chief tightened his lips to a pale line; but his only reply was, “Yes, sir.”
“Director Hannish,” Warden continued, “you were responsible for representing formal UMCP policy before the Council. Director Lebwohl”—the UMCP director paused to study Hashi momentarily—“I will presume you were there because you’re responsible for our investigation of the kazes who attacked Captain Vertigus and killed Godsen Frik.”
Hashi nodded, but he held his tongue.
“I want to know the exact nature of the threats we face. That means I want to know what the Amnion are doing. And I want to know what’s behind these kazes. Who’s sending them? Why are they being sent? And why are they being sent now, when the Amnion have just committed an act of war? How we respond to one is likely to depend on what we do about the other.”
Why are they being sent now? Hashi considered this interrogative a trifle specious. He was convinced that Warden understood the timing of recent events very well. He kept his belief to himself, however.
“So you tell me,” Warden concluded, “the three of you. What happened? What the hell is going on?”
He did not single out Chief Mandich for answers. Perhaps he realized that no question he could ask would search the Chief more intimately than Mandich searched himself.
Nevertheless Chief Mandich considered it his duty to report first.
“I’m still waiting to hear from DA, sir,” he began. “I can’t account for what happened myself.” That admission came awkwardly for him. His sense of culpability was plain on his blunt face. “We took every precaution I know of. Retinal scans. Every kind of EM probe we have available.” The kind of scanning which Angus Thermopyle had been constructed and equipped to circumvent. “Full id tag and credential background verifications. For everybody on the island. And everybody who arrived or left. The kaze still got through. He must have been legit—even though that’s supposed to be impossible.
“Since then it’s been up to DA. I’ve sealed the island. Nobody in or out—except our own people. Some of the Members are squalling about it.” The Chief shrugged. He had no qualms about discomfiting the Members. “They want to go hide. But if whoever is behind this is on Suka Bator, I’m going to make sure he stays there. So we can find him.”
Hashi nodded his approval. He knew that no direct evidence would be found on the island. A chemical trigger released on a preconditioned signal by a man in a state of drug-induced hypnosis would leave no traceable data. Nevertheless he wished to be certain that the responsible individual would not escape.
Casually he asked, “Has the Dragon’s estimable First Executive Assistant posed any objection?”
“No,” Chief Mandich retorted.
Of course not. In such matters Holt Fasner’s aides and cohorts preserved an illusion of complete cooperation.
“I haven’t had time to study the reports,” Warden put in. “Cleatus Fane attended the session?”
He did not appear to be taken aback.
“Oh, yes,” Koina answered before the Chief could speak. Hashi suspected that she held Mandich blameless and wished to spare him unnecessary chagrin. She was capable of such consideration, even when her own chagrin ran high. “I was surprised to see him. So were quite a few of the Members.
“Several of them had the impression he was there because he knew why Captain Vertigus had claimed Member’s privilege. That doesn’t make sense to me. I don’t see how anyone could have known what Captain Vertigus had in mind”—she held Warden’s gaze without faltering—“unless he told them. But Fane was there anyway, emitting bonhomie like toxic radiation.”
Hashi chuckled pleasantly at her transparent dislike for the UMC First Executive Assistant.
Still facing Warden, she said, “You know what happened.” She made no pretense that this was a question. “Captain Vertigus used his privilege to introduce a Bill of Severance. He wants to dissolve us as a branch of the UMC and reconstitute us as an arm of the GCES.”
For his part Warden made no pretense that he had been caught unaware.
“Fane raised a number of objections,” she stated. “Then he called on me to support him. I announced formally that our position on such matters was one of complete neutrality. I gave our reasons. Fane didn’t seem to like them much.”
“I’m sure he didn’t,” the UMCP director remarked acerbically. “Maybe that explains why he’s been trying to call me”—Warden indicated his intercom—“every twenty minutes for the past two hours. Fortunately I’ve been too busy to talk to him.”
Maybe: maybe not. Hashi could think of at least one alternative rationale for Cleatus Fane’s calls.
Apparently Koina could not. Or she saw no reason to redirect her account of the session. “After that,” she resumed, “Director Lebwohl spotted the kaze. He still hasn’t told any of us how he managed that. But if he hadn’t been there, a lot more people would have died. Some of the Members might have been killed.
“As it was, the cost was high enough.” Complex fears darkened her tone. “GCES Security lost a man. An ED Security ensign lost a hand. And we lost the bill. I suppose the Members believed Fane’s argument that we would be weaker if we were separated from the UMC—and right now their lives depend on making us as strong as possible.”
She fell silent. After a moment her gaze shifted from Warden to Hashi.
Warden and Chief Mandich were also looking at the DA director. The time had come for him to speak.
He didn’t hesitate. He was at home among the uncertainties which crowded Warden’s office, the swirl of secret intentions; in his element. “Director Dios,” he offered with a sly smile, “you might find it entertaining to accept the First Executive Assistant’s call.?
??
“Why?” Warden asked.
Hashi shrugged delicately. “I suspect that his reasons for wishing to address you have little or nothing to do with Captain Vertigus’ Bill. The issues he hopes to obfuscate may prove to be of another kind altogether.”
Warden shook his head. He seemed to be beyond surprise. “I want to hear your report first.”
Hashi bowed slightly. “As you wish.”
Ignoring the pressure of scrutiny from Koina and Chief Mandich, he presented his information directly to Warden Dios.
“The means by which I identified a kaze in the extraordinary session of the GCES is easily explained. Quite simply, I recognized him. That is to say, despite his GCES Security uniform, I recognized him as the infamous Captain Nathan Alt. You would have done so yourself, had you been there.”
Koina caught her breath at the name. The Chief growled a soft curse.
Warden raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment.
Hashi warmed to the pleasure of his own explanations. “Captain Alt’s presence in the Council hall struck me as unexpected,” he expounded. “And I admit that I was alert to all things unexpected. Director Hannish had relayed to me Captain Vertigus’ fear of another attack. I considered his fears credible. That in large part motivated my presence at the extraordinary session.
“Because Captain Alt’s presence was unexpected, I moved to intercept him, hoping to obtain an explanation. When I drew near enough to see him more clearly, I had no difficulty identifying the danger he represented. First, his eyes and his manner indicated that he had been heavily drugged. Second, his credentials were not those of Nathan Alt, former UMCPED captain. They were those of one Clay Imposs, a GCES Security sergeant.”
With false ingratiation, Hashi added smoothly, “I’m sure Chief Mandich would have drawn the same conclusions I did—and taken the same actions—if chance had given him the same opportunity to recognize Captain Alt.”
Nathan Alt’s name was well-known in UMCPHQ. However, his court-martial had taken place several years ago; before Koina’s time. On the other hand, as a member of ED—with a personal investment in ED’s reputation—Chief Mandich almost certainly remembered the former captain well enough to identify him.