She had seen Rafe only three times since his return, and Stella not at all, though she had talked to both of them daily, mostly about business. Rafe, Rodney, and Teague had moved back into the Vatta house, ostensibly to supervise the repairs. Ky trusted their intel reports more than those from Molosay’s office.
On the tenth day, Rafe contacted her with new information. “Rodney’s been following the shipping news at all major ports. A Quindlan freighter, Xonsulat, that had just loaded cargo at Makkavo dumped it back on the dock, then filed a new route to a Quindlan-owned facility—a private port, basically. No idea what they took on, but the ship then filed for Green Harbor—south coast here—and ultimately Port Major. We have it on satellite; it’ll be eight days to Green Harbor, minimum. Six to eight days more to Port Major, depending on how long they’re at Green Harbor. Xonsulor also diverted, and is due at Sunhome Bay on Cape Harmon in ten days.”
Ky tried to remember where Green Harbor and Sunhome Bay were, but Rafe went on talking. “Both those ports could be easily reached by troops from anywhere on the south coast. Kvannis could have started people moving in small groups—”
“Ship capacity?”
“We’re trying to find out, but I haven’t a clue how to convert gross tonnage and dimensions into passenger capacity.”
“Neither do I, but I know who does, roughly. Get Rodney to ask someone in Vatta’s sea freight division—”
“Got it. I’d have thought Kvannis would just use trucks, or fly them in—”
“It’s a possibility he’ll use all three. Ships can carry heavy equipment less obviously than trucks or trains.”
“So we don’t quit looking for more transports—”
“No. Any transport originating from any military facility—those can be cross-checked with orders from Joint Services Command HQ.”
Ky passed this information to General Molosay. Twelve to fourteen more days to prepare before the ships arrived—at least. Already the long park in the government complex had been dug up and reshaped by the combat engineer units, using their massive machines to create trenches, dugouts, and what the Port Major media insisted was a huge unnecessary mess. On the excuse that some of the necessary drills would involve live ammunition, government buildings across the streets that ringed the complex were told to evacuate rooms facing those streets, and the windows were covered with shields.
As the days passed, tension in the city oscillated between worry that a real attack might come, and annoyance that since nothing had happened, citizens endured traffic delays and detours for no reason. Ky kept the Academy running, insisting on classes being taught even if the schedule changed. Some faculty seemed to enjoy the challenge; others grumbled if asked to move a class a half hour, let alone from day to night. The second-year class, somewhat to Ky’s surprise, improved faster.
And day by day, the two Quindlan ships came nearer and nearer to Port Major. Each had spent two days in its intermediate port, and now they were in tandem, obviously intending to reach Port Major on the same day.
DAY 38
“I think it’s because they see the other classes also having hardships now,” Major Hemins told her one afternoon when she had stopped by to check on the second-years’ progress. “Also, the heavier schedule means their extra work isn’t punishment. The overall attitude has changed a lot since you chewed them out. Definitely class cohesion. I’m quite pleased with them now.”
“Good,” Ky said. “Because I have an assignment for them that they must not know yet, but you can.”
“Commandant?”
“The ships we think are bringing insurgent troops to Port Major are only four or five days away now, but this still remains a secret. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Commandant.”
“All right. Tonight, the President and her staff will leave the Palace and move to temporary quarters. Tomorrow, one-third of the legislature and their staffs will evacuate Government House, followed by another drill that explains the evacuation. Critical data have already been shifted to other servers; all the servers in the Palace and Government House will be wiped. The two senior classes, as in the plan, will engage the invasion force we expect, but the second class will be assigned to assist the honor guard in protection of the persons of the President, her second, her staff, and those seniors in the legislature whose positions might draw enough attention to attack their homes. I have looked at your assessments carefully; by tonight, I want your advice on choosing specific personnel for each assignment.” She handed him a data cube.
“You’re—you’re moving the President? Like Major Seagle said?”
“Yes, but it was important not to let potential traitors in the faculty know. You must not discuss it with anyone.”
—
Ky had just settled back in the chair at her desk when her skullphone pinged. Grace.
“Ky, I know you’re busy, but I wanted to warn you about what’s going on in the legislature.”
“The legislature?” The only thing she knew about the legislature was that they refused to leave the chambers “until the bombs are falling,” as one of them put it.
“It affects you slightly, but mostly me, for being Rector. The President and Council are planning to throw the situation with the Miksland personnel to the standing committee on military affairs. Did you know your survivors came from every continent but Miksland?”
“Yes,” Ky said.
“Well, it’s a mess. Continental legislatures are furious about what happened, as well they might be, but some of them are also divided. My neck is on the block, as far as some are concerned, and I can’t blame them.”
“You couldn’t have known,” Ky said.
“I should have known. I should never have taken this post. That’s tearing them apart, Ky.”
“It’s not all that’s coming apart. Nothing you did would spark something this big. Hiding the truth about Miksland began long before you were born.” Ky spoke harshly; Grace needed to get over her guilt trip and start thinking clearly about the present mess.
“You’re right about that,” Grace said. Ky could hear her sigh. “Right now what matters is spiking this incipient civil war, because that’s not going to help anyone, whoever wins it.”
“Good. Start with that. Admit that you didn’t know, it was a mistake and can be dealt with later, but right now—we’ve got the murders and the mistreatment of military personnel to cope with, and the conspiracy behind them. Start fast and keep going. Don’t let them talk over you.”
“You sound like me,” Grace said. Her voice was stronger now.
“No, you sound like you. They can cut you in pieces and fry you later, but right now they need to save the government and the security of the whole planet. Put that way, they’ll fall in line.”
“Unless they’re involved,” Grace said.
“And then you’ll know,” Ky said. “And so will everyone else.” She felt peculiar, giving advice to Grace, who had given so much advice to all the Vatta children.
“All right. I’ll do my best.”
“Do you want me to be there? As Commandant?”
“No, I don’t think so. The Commandant has always stayed away from the Grand Council unless invited. If you’re invited, though, I’d say come.”
—
Grace Vatta sat staring at the wall for a moment, thinking about Ky’s advice. Why hadn’t she thought of that herself? A tap on the door interrupted her.
“Rector, you have a visitor—in uniform—Commander Basil Orniakos.”
Grace just managed not to gasp. Orniakos, Region VII AirDefense, with whom she’d had that disastrous argument when the shuttle went down. Orniakos…she could not remember all the things she’d found out about him…why was he here? He was stationed on the far side of the planet.
“I’ll see him,” she said. She left the papers she’d been studying on top of the desk, and made sure her personal weapon was in reach.
The door opened; she recognized him from his im
age, loaded into her implant more than a half year ago.
“Rector Vatta,” he said; he stood stiffly.
“Please sit down,” she said, waving to a chair. “And forgive me for not rising to welcome you; this is my first day back in the office.”
“I was appalled when I heard you’d been poisoned,” he said, pulling a chair a little closer to the desk before sitting down. “Have you found out who stole the toxin from the military?”
“Not yet, though I suspect the instigator was Michael Quindlan. According to my great-niece, who had the message fairly directly, he intends to kill us all—me, my great-nieces still alive, and my other great-niece’s two children.”
“Rector, you may be wondering why I am here, and not contacting you in a more…conventional way.”
“I assume you have a good reason,” Grace said. “Besides showing that you, as well as I, could jump the chain of command. A mistake, in my case.”
A glint of humor flashed in his face, then vanished. “I hope this will not prove to be one. I believe I have information that should go immediately to this office.” He opened the briefcase he carried. “This is a letter I received shortly after our previous…encounter…from someone who believed I was ripe for recruitment to their faction. Their research was inadequate; though I was angry with you on that day, and sore about it for a week or so, in the long run nothing could turn me from a loyal officer to a traitor. However—I let them think I was tempted. And this is what I found.” He laid the letter and a data cube on her desk. “I have the names of what I believe are ringleaders in an attempt to restore Separatist territories. Miksland was to be the first. I did not know that until after the breakout there.”
Grace picked up the letter, looked at the signature, and looked back up at Orniakos. “Greyhaus?”
“Yes. I—one of the reasons I hadn’t contacted you, Rector, following that…disagreement we had was that I’d had subtle signals that if I was in your doghouse, someone else might turn it into a mansion. I waited, to see what would happen. And this came. Interesting, I thought, that it came from someone of the same rank, in another branch.”
“And it came as an actual letter, not electronically?”
“Yes. This is, as you see, a copy; the original self-destructed after an hour. So no fingerprints or other biological evidence, except—” Orniakos grinned, a feral grin, and laid down a photographic enlargement of fingerprints. “I had anticipated that real conspirators would take precautions. So there was ample time to copy this letter photographically under several filters. Now that Greyhaus is dead, it might be useful to compare the fingerprints that were not his and not mine with the military database.”
“It might indeed,” Grace said.
“The data cube has lists and dossiers on all the personnel I found whom I believe are associated with the plot. The further communication between us—Greyhaus was supposedly my handler—” Again, the feral grin. “—is also in that data cube, composed on a machine that has never been connected to any other. You will have to take my word for it, however, because I never received paper communication once they became sure of my allegiance.”
“Interesting, that they thought they had such secure electronic links.”
“Yes, I thought so. They disappeared about the time the second mercenaries were heading down to Miksland. What I did get then was word of a fire on a server farm somewhere on Dorland and another on Fulland.” He lifted one eyebrow.
Grace nodded. “Yes, such fires did occur. A less-than-perfectly-successful effort to disrupt communications between Pingat Base and the Black Torch mercenary company.”
“Rector, I can leave this information with you—or, if you wish, give you my summary.”
“Please do give me your summary. Are you willing to have another person—to whom I’d pass it on anyway, I must tell you—hear it as well?”
“Certainly. That would be Master Sergeant MacRobert, would it not?”
“I was thinking also of General Molosay.”
“Fine, if he can come here. I would rather not be seen on the base right now.”
“Where does your command think you are?”
“Somewhere else.” His look challenged her to figure it out.
“Give me a one-minute pitch while I contact them,” Grace said. For Mac she need only ping him and tap twice.
“Three families, eight organizations within the military, two possible choke points to prevent this thing blowing up too big. It’s going to blow—can’t stop it—but we can, if we move fast, have a controlled explosion in a confined area.”
By the end of the one-minute pitch, Grace had both MacRobert and General Molosay on conference mode. Several hours later, the conference mode had expanded, and Grace had agreed with Molosay that Orniakos should command the government’s forces on Dorland.
“There will be casualties,” Orniakos warned. “I’ll try to keep it confined to the actual traitors—the civilian population down there doesn’t want another war—but the butcher’s bill may be expensive.”
“If you can save the planet, I’ll pay the bills out of my own pocket,” Grace said. “Were you far enough up the chain that they showed you my file?”
He flushed a little. “Part of it, yes, Rector. In fact it’s the reason I trusted you enough to come to you instead of to the general. I understand combat trauma; easy to see how a youngster without training, caught in that mess, would be messed up for years. And how some things would rub you wrong later. But that’s beside the point. What we’ve discussed will hold the carnage to a minimum, although—in my day the Academy was supposed to protect the government centers. Your niece Ky—brilliant commander in space—does she know anything about surface warfare?”
“She has advisers,” Molosay said before Grace could reply. “And she is heeding them.”
Orniakos gave a half shrug. “Good. I have nothing against her.” He turned to Grace. “Quindlan really hates you, Rector—not only you, but all Vattas. And so do several others.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
PORT MAJOR
DAY 44
Michael Quindlan had waited impatiently for this day, and now at last it was happening. Quindlan ships had brought the troops; Quindlan influence and Quindlan money had finally—finally—resulted in his being given a position in the upper echelons of the resistance. He would rather, he told himself, have been out there leading a squad or platoon or whatever they called it of Greyhaus’s soldiers, but Kvannis wouldn’t allow it. Ridiculous, the way the military pretended civilians knew nothing. He’d watched the movies and vid shows.
In lieu of that, he’d taken action within his own family. His niece Linny had done the second-level check on Benny that he’d ordered her to perform—her first official duty, one she knew might get her promoted. Those two had been antagonists since childhood, so if there was a dirty spot on Benny’s apparently perfect character, she’d find it. And she had.
Benny had betrayed him. Linny had befriended Benny’s idiot wife—well on the way to alcoholic if not there already—and pried out of her the fact that Benny had handed over a secret file to Stella Vatta. The boy had had a crush on Stella back when he was eleven or so, but supposedly his father had beaten it out of him. Not hard enough. Well, Benny would find out what happened to Quindlans who disobeyed the head of the family. He would find out in stages, starting with a tragedy he would not, initially lay at Michael’s feet. With luck, he might even blame the Vattas for the vicious attack on his wife that left her alive, but permanently damaged, and his children dead. He should be hearing about it any time now.
—
“Weather looks difficult,” Molosay’s meteorologist said. “This is a serious snowstorm moving in—”
“It won’t bother them,” Ky said. “They trained both on Miksland’s southern half and up north.”
“But dark and snow—”
“They’ll be more used to it than our troops,” Ky said. “This may be why they hung around an extr
a day or so before heading into port. They want the dark and snow; they figure it will hurt us.”
On the way back to the Academy, Ky watched the shelf of high clouds as it closed in the sky, horizon-to-horizon. Beneath it, the first softer clouds moved out of the northwest like rolls of fluff. Sleet rattled on the roof of the car as it turned into the Academy gates to the Commandant’s Residence. It had stopped by the time she walked to the door.
She was halfway to her office when Rafe pinged her. “We lost visual satellite surveillance with the clouds, but the ships are not stealthed or silenced. Both ships picked up pilots; Xonsulat is within the harbor and will dock on the north side, near the foot of Ertanya Street. There’s an open berth behind that I’d bet Xonsulor will take.”
“As we expected. Weather says snow starting after dark, with mixed sleet, rain, and freezing rain until then.”
“That’ll make the streets slippery,” Rafe said.
“No problem for them with their tracked vehicles. I need to make calls now.”
In her office, she found messages from Joint Services Command, Neese Base, Harbor Point Base, and the President, who wanted to know if her removal from the Palace was really necessary since nothing had happened since she’d moved out.
“It’s happening now,” Ky said. “The suspect vessels are docking as we speak.”
“Oh. Then I suppose you won’t let me go home—”
“No—your home address is too well known and just about indefensible. Please stay where you are and do not contact me. Your security troops will be with you very soon now.”
Molosay, at Joint Services Command, knew about the ships and wondered if Ky had put any surveillance drones up.
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