Orion's Price

by Owen R. O’Neill

  “Thank you,” Jerome said from the head of the table, his tone and expression betraying nothing at all. “Your presentation was most informative.”

  Most informative indeed, thought Admiral Caneris, sitting in silence with the rest, but more than that, surprising. Danilov had called him yesterday to confirm that there had indeed been a blackmail threat against the counselor and that it had been unexpectedly quashed. From what Danilov had said—and not said—Caneris inferred that his informant was Lady Gwen. Which pointed back to Lady Geris. But all that tangle to one side; Geris had been motivated to present a proposal to explore resuming POW exchange with the League.

  It was all quite well thought out and Caneris regarded Geris across the table with newfound respect. Emphasizing the readiness issue was a brilliant stroke. Halith’s recent losses had fallen disproportionally on support units, which could not be evacuated as readily as combatant forces from the regions they had lost. The many maintenance personnel and techs captured could not be readily replaced, and this lack slowed repair and refurbishment, as the numbers Geris had mentioned showed. Ignoring the humanitarian aspect defanged any arguments that proposal was defeatist, a line Heydrich would have been sure to take, and which both Van Diemens, as Chief of Staff, and Jerome would be sensitive to. But even if he could not openly mention it, the fact that the proposal would likely conciliate the League in future negotiations was an aspect Jerome could not ignore. That put a useful wedge between him and the militarists, who would now have to find other reasons to object to a proposal that was nominally presented as being expressly for their benefit.

  In an almost direct challenge to Heydrich, the proposal foresaw sending back a token number of POWs as a gesture of good faith, for which the League would exchange a like number. In the meantime, the POWs selected would be held in consular sequestration, as Commander Huron currently was. Huron’s presence was the ‘advantageous’ position to which Geris referred. The League would certainly agree to the initial exchange to recover him, and negotiations could then proceed.

  The admiral was aware that POW exchange was a contentious issue within the League, even more so than here, and this would enflame those arguments, making the proposal useful on several levels. First, if it succeeded in restoring the previous POW accords, that would go far to redressing the readiness issue Geris had raised. But even if the negotiations failed, they would provide a valuable respite. Internal dissention within the League would no doubt complicate and thus lengthen any negotiations, which worked in Halith’s favor. Heydrich might not be impressed by that argument and no doubt he’d resent even the token exchange, but Van Diemens could not plausibly argue against it.

  And it was Van Diemens who had his finger on the balance as this point. If he agreed, that would give Jerome all the cover he needed to throw his weight behind the proposal. The middle would shift to Jerome, and Heydrich would be isolated. But if Van Diemens wavered or balked, the militarists would stand firm behind Heydrich and Jerome would be reluctant to press the issue. Unsure of Jerome’s support, the middle would stay where they were out of fear of antagonizing Heydrich, thereby isolating Geris, now that he’d finally committed himself.

  Caneris, whose views on this topic were well known, thought it best to say as little as possible. That Geris had taken the bold step of committing himself was the most curious fact of all. Only two conceivable reasons could account for it. Either the blackmail threat, despite being removed, had convinced him neutrality was no longer the prudent option and he’d decided to throw himself in Caneris’ camp, or he’d received some private intelligence that Heydrich’s position was weaker than it appeared, making it safe enough to float the proposal. Both thoughts could be as unsettling as they were intriguing.

  No wonder that Geris, on finishing, had taken his seat in a dead silence.

  Jerome’s brief and utterly uninformative comment had done nothing to break that silence, but merely interrupted it in a fashion that made it seem all the more expectant. That expectation focused on almost entirely on General Heydrich. Van Diemens, caught wholly off-guard and at pains not to show it, had retreated behind an entirely wooden expression and was looking at Heydrich with the rest of them.

  Heydrich had been no less surprised and seemed about as pleased as if Geris had tossed a live grenade into his lap. Which, Caneris thought, he essentially had. The muscles in his jaw could be seen working as he strained to formulate a response.

  “I agree that the counselor’s presentation is most informative,” he finally said, that strain evident in every clipped syllable. “And his point about the numbers is well taken. But . . .” Here, he glanced at the chief of staff and cleared his throat before going on. “I will assert that where readiness is concerned, morale is as critical as matériel—indeed, more so. What are systems without the will to fight? Useless. Any matter that may degrade morale—as I feel this proposal might, if pursued in a . . . precipitate manner—should be considered with the utmost care in that light, lest it have a . . . contrary effect.”

  As a statement, Caneris did not think it skillfully presented, being even more stilted and pedantic than the general usually was in council. But the meaning was plain enough. That morale and matériel were more strongly linked than the general allowed, especially in fleets, was a counterargument he did not feel it profitable to raise, and instead shifted his attention to Jerome at the head of the table.

  Predictably, Jerome turned to Van Diemens. “Marshal? Any comment?”

  Heydrich had given the chief of staff a fig leaf to hide behind, and Van Diemens seized it. “Both Lord Geris and the general”—that almost-jab caused a tick by Heydrich’s right eye—“make valid points. But at this time, I must conclude morale is paramount. If this proposal is to be entertained, I urge that it not be undertaken until the situation is . . .” On the verge of admitting Halith’s precarious military position, he caught himself and finished, “. . . more propitious.”

  Jerome’s face showed the first hint of anything more than a bafflingly neutral expression. “By propitious, we are to understand you to mean a victory? Lest . . .” Having successfully lured the chief of staff into the position he desired, Jerome paused for effect. “It be seen as . . . how does the saying go? ‘The last shriek on the retreat?’”

  That Jerome knew that ancient quote, made during the debate on an even bolder proposal, surprised Caneris. That Van Diemens appeared blank at its mention did not surprise him at all, although that might also be due to his realizing that the bars of an unseen cage had just locked shut around him.

  “That would be the case here—yes,” the chief of staff said, trying not to grumble.

  “Then no doubt we shall soon have an opportunity to put Lord Geris’ proposal into effect?”

  Van Diemens looked as though he were about to choke and Heydrich was giving him a baleful glare. The chief of staff could not very well state that his military did not intend to engineer a victory in the near-term and when that happened, he’d committed himself to supporting the exchange proposal. And if he failed to do so, Jerome had just obliquely served notice that his days were numbered.

  “Of course,” was all the chief of staff managed to say.

  Having achieved his objective, Jerome leaned back in his chair and favored them with a relaxed, and rather self-satisfied, smile.

  “Very well, then. I hold that this matter shall be tabled until such time as Marshall Van Diemens delivers us a victory, or other . . . propitious circumstances shall eventuate. We may adjourn for today.”

  To Caneris, the added clause seemed unusually significant. They all knew what the near-term chances of a victory were. The other propitious circumstance of note was Heydrich dropping his opposition or being removed from the Council altogether. Was Jerome gunning for both of them? Had the ‘private intelligence’ regarding Heydrich’s position he’d earlier speculated on come from Jerome? Or was the Princeps merely being his usual opportunistic self?

  Whatever it was, Cane
ris reflected as they all stood up together, he foresaw that they were in for some interesting times.

  * * *

  Idiot, seethed General Heydrich as he stalked through the broad corridors of the Supreme Staff Headquarters complex with an expression that put an extra snap of fear into the salutes of those he met. Any child could have seen Jerome’s trap coming, and Van Diemens had blundered straight into it. Bad enough that Geris had been able to spring this proposal on them without warning, but now Van Diemens had shackled them to it. The man was an imbecile—no wonder the war was going badly.

  Striding through the doors of the Intelligence & Security Bureau, he startled and alarmed the young aide at the front desk.

  “Is Captain Arutyun available?” he demanded of the young man.

  “I believe he is in a meeting, sir,” the aide answered, with a nervous lick of his lips.

  “With whom?”

  Caught between disobliging an influential general and the captain’s instructions that he not be disturbed, the aide was puzzled as to how to respond in a way that did not invite the considerable wrath of either man. It was therefore with uncommon relief that he saw the captain emerge from a hallway and could announce, “He’s here now, sir”—following that with an equally evident, “The general is here to see you, sir,” to Captain Arutyun.

  “Yes,” Arutyun observed, looking not at all surprised. “How do you do, General? Shall we use my office?”

  “If you please,” Heydrich answered, his tone brusque.

  “This way.” Arutyun gestured; mere form, the general knew where his office was perfectly well.

  Once there, and the door secured behind them, Heydrich began without preliminaries. “Are you aware of the proposal Geris presented to the Council today?”

  “Yes, I was informed this AM,” Arutyun replied, sitting when it became evident his guest had no interest in doing so.

  “You had no foreknowledge?”

  “I did not,” Arutyun said decidedly, looking at the general over his hands. “Lord Geris appears to have acted precipitously. And as an aside, may I caution against precipitous actions? They do not serve us well at this time.”

  Briefly, Heydrich mediated on a retort. Arutyun was plainly referring to the manner of his visit: they usually kept their meetings less conspicuous. In future, the captain could be taught some decent humility, but at present he was still too useful.

  Taking a firmer grip on his temper, he asked, “Have you an idea what is behind it?”

  “In that regard, I am aware of two items. First, the councilor received several messages last week. The contents are unknown, but they caused consternation. Second, shortly before these communications were received, Lady Geris met with another woman for some hours at Su Pynsenti.”

  Heydrich was aware of Sonja Geris’ past, and such a meeting did not seem out of character. Especially as her husband had been traveling last week. “How is that significant?”

  “The woman appears to have been Mariwen Rathor.”

  “Are you quite serious?”—his voice pitching up.

  “Quite.”

  “How could Mariwen Rathor come to be here?” The shock having not worn off, it sounded like an accusation, and Arutyun responded with more than a touch of asperity.

  “That problem is being worked. The significance is that Lady Geris and Mariwen Rathor once enjoyed a sexual relationship. The League obviously wishes to get Commander Huron back, and it is possible they are attempting to exploit Lady Geris’ relationship with Mariwen Rathor to this end. That might account for Lord Geris making his proposal in such a precipitous fashion.”

  “How sure are you of this?”

  “I accept it as a working hypothesis.”

  “Why did you not mention this before?”

  Arutyun regarded the general stonily. “I have only just learnt it.”

  They lapsed into silence. Mariwen being in Halevirdon was most extraordinary. Possibly an extraordinary opportunity as well? That would be asking great deal. But if the possibility existed . . .

  Clearing his throat, Arutyun recalled Heydrich’s wandering mind to the present.

  “I offer one further point,” the captain said, “which may or may not bear on the exchange proposal, although I think it could prove useful there. In any case, it is of personal interest to you.”

  “Which is?” Heydrich was not accustomed to much generosity from Arutyun.

  “Loralynn Kennakris was your brother’s prisoner about the Ilya Turabian at Asylum. And it appears that when Admiral PrenTalien’ forces took over the ship, he was already dead.”

  “Are you saying she killed him?” After the revelation about Mariwen Rathor, this new statement was bewildering, and his question made that more evident than he wished.

  “I am merely reporting the information I received. You may infer what you wish from it.”

  There was more than a hint that Arutyun was enjoying lobbing these bombshells, but for once Heydrich was not inclined to resent it. Indeed, he hardly noticed. The accepted belief was that PrenTalien’s boarding party had killed the admiral, and Loralynn Kennakris and Commander Huron had simply performed a reconnaissance of the system. Nothing about her being captured. But if this women, while a prisoner, had managed to kill his brother—and despite what Arutyun had said about inferences, why else would he bring it up?—how had she beaten him at his own game? Had she succeeded in making him lose his precious self-control? How very extraordinary. And somehow, she had survived until PrenTalien could rescue her? Even more extraordinary.

  Loralynn Kennakris suddenly grew much larger in his imagination. What a challenge—how sweet to succeed where his brother had failed. And with justice. Yes. That made the whole thing so much sweeter . . .

  “Furthermore, there is reason to believe she is responsible for the destruction of Asylum Station.”

  His mind busy, Heydrich did not at first grasp what Arutyun had said. When he did, it still did not make much sense. “How is that possible?”

  “That, I cannot comment on, except to say the source is reliable and placed so as to potentially have access to such information. I mention it because it implicates the commander in what might be considered a war crime. As such, she would obviously not be eligible for parole and could not be included in any exchange agreement.”

  That was quite true. Even if he could not block Geris’ proposal, he still could maintain custody of her. The notion restored some focus to his mind, and the question of Arutyun’s motives at once appeared through the haze of more pleasurable thoughts. Had he an agenda of his own? Heydrich doubted very much that the captain would be disinterested in a woman like Loralynn Kennakris.

  “I appreciate you telling me this,” he said slowly. “But I wonder that you have not brought it up?”

  Arutyun returned a gimlet stare. “It was not relevant. And in any event, the source must not be revealed. To use this information requires it being attributed to a plausible source. That should not be done lightly.”

  The point was a good one. And besides, revealing what they knew about Loralynn Kennakris at the wrong time could backfire. Better to keep that information most closely guarded until an auspicious moment. Yet, Arutyun’s answer did little to allay his other suspicions.

  “What manner of plausible source?”

  “Under the circumstances, the most plausible source would be Loralynn Kennakris, herself.”

  Meaning the results of an ‘interrogation’. Which Arutyun would, no doubt, personally conduct.

  Heydrich considered Arutyun minutely, trying plumb what lay behind the disagreeable expression and cold eyes. “Then, Captain, no doubt we can look forward to the fulfillment of all our wishes when Loralynn Kennakris is in our power.”

  “Yes, General. Perhaps we may. Though it might be well to consider that more tears have been shed over wishes granted than wishes refused.”

  Chapter 33

  Safe House

  Undisclosed Location, Halevirdon
r />   Halith Evandor, Orion Spur

  “Up and left!” Zorya’s shout crackled over Mariwen’s helmet set. She’d already seen them: two Dom soldiers appearing in the doorway of the building to her left. Zeroing them in her sight picture, she squeezed off a long burst from her assault rifle. The head of the first vaporized in a pink explosion and the second somersaulted backwards as AP rounds stitched his body from shoulder to hip. Warned by a flicker of movement, she lurched sideways as a storm of return fire cut between her and Zorya, leaving a line of searing heat across her upper arm as a bullet grazed her. Hitting the ground on her side, she heard a single crack from Zorya’s rifle as she shot the barely visible sniper in the second-story window through the eye.

  The words SIM OVER flashed up, shimmering in the space before them. Blowing out a loud breath, Mariwen relaxed and took off her VR helmet. Next to her, Zorya had done the same and was blotting her brow with a sleeve.

  “ ‘Up and left’ meant the window,” she said, lips teased into a half-smile.

  “I’ll remember that next time,” Mariwen sighed, rubbing her upper arm.

  “My fault. I was not clear enough. Stings much?”

  “Only slightly.”

  Zorya’s smile twitched into a grin. “Wait till the gain is turned up.”

  “I think I’d prefer to take a pass on that, if that’s okay?”

  “Assuredly,” Zorya nodded.

  “Did we win?”

  “Check the box score.” Standing up and holding out her hand, Zorya helped her out of the VR couch. The simulation’s final numbers were up on the console’s display in front of them. “You’re good.”

  “You’re great,” Mariwen replied, reading the score and recalling that last shot.

  “It’s just practice”—accepting the compliment with an offhand shrug. “Tea?”

  “Tea would be lovely.” Mariwen glanced towards the kitchen of the safe house she’d been sharing with Zorya since that last meeting with Paavo. ‘House’ was a generous term for what was in fact a small apartment. “Can I help?”