Mac shook his head. “Just tell me.”
“One thing I learned from ISC’s military errors is that items of equal mass may be substituted in a list, giving a correct standard weight, but being something else entirely. One of ISC’s sector commanders was actually smuggling large amounts of high-value contraband in packets weighing the same as small-arms ammunition or in insulated containers weighing the same as food for the crew. Which is why we had a fleet that wasn’t even paper, but mostly hot air and thought bubbles.”
“And you’re saying we’ve got that?”
“No. But I took your standard average weight for a fully equipped military police soldier—and found that it was exactly the same as this item here: SKSF-4381B-1596572, Rotor, Replacement, et cetera and so forth. They requisitioned one hundred ten of those. And the boxes of ‘Fasteners, screw, hex, count 24’ just happen to weigh the same as a box of ammunition, count 20, for the standard small-arms weapon you use. Quite a lot of fasteners. And though I don’t know anything about Slotter Key riot control and air-to-surface and surface-to-air missiles, I can’t help but wonder about those things whose labels are all in code, or that I don’t recognize. Canisters always suggest some kind of gas weapon to me.” Rafe raised an eyebrow. “I really don’t think your whatsit islands base commander is trying to be fuel-efficient with repair supplies.”
“Training Group Foxtrot,” Grace said.
“Indeed,” Rafe said. He handed the hardcopy to MacRobert. “You’ll know better than I what all of those are. Trouble for Ky, I would think. We need to get down there.”
“We can’t yet. Weather’s too bad. And if they know we’re coming, they might just bomb everything to slag.”
“Not if they have enough invested in using it,” Rafe said. “They wouldn’t keep a secret that long if it didn’t have value for them—same as with ISC and ansible technology.”
“Speaking of ansibles.” MacRobert leaned back. “I need to have a talk with you, Rafe, about communications security. I’ve been wanting to talk to Ky’s flagship, but I don’t know if it’s a secure link. The guys I know and still trust aren’t sure, because it’s not our system. You say you’ve got an absolutely secure method, but I understand it’s proprietary ISC tech.”
“I’m going to the kitchen,” Grace said. “I feel an overwhelming urge to start making fruitcakes again. And yes, Mac, my arm is up to it.”
“You know,” Mac said, when the kitchen door had swung shut. “Just because the Rector is out of the room—”
“Doesn’t mean she’s not listening.” Rafe nodded and pulled a privacy cylinder from his pocket and thumbed it on. “And she may even be listening past this, since you’re up to date in your surveillance equipment.”
“Are we?”
“Oh, yes. If I didn’t know better, I might think you’d imported some particular instruments from the mercs—from Mackensee. Little bird told me you and their Master Sergeant Pitt got friendly back at Cascadia.”
“Competent woman, Master Sergeant Pitt,” Mac said. “But that relates to what I want to ask you. We’re not that far away from a likely window to make a flight down to Miksland. Neither the Rector nor I—both too well known and too high up—can move troops around and gather a team larger than maybe a dozen, two at the most. And we both think the opposition might be mustering as many as a hundred.”
“Or more. I’d think they might use their own, as well—civilian corporate security.”
“I’m wondering what resources are up there, in that flagship, but I don’t want to risk asking her captain. Yes, we have tight-beam, but any group that can mask a continent from surveillance for over a century—”
“Might break a tight-beam’s security. It actually can be done; ISC figured it out but hid the tech. So you would like me to secretly contact Ky’s flag captain and see what fighting resources they have?”
“Yes. As soon as possible.”
“Unfortunately, my special tech does not mesh with her flagship’s, but I do know ways to overprotect tight-beams. I’ll get busy on that.” He stood up. Mac held up his hand.
“Just a moment. I had considered asking if the flagship could communicate with Mackensee, get us some contracted troops—”
“You’d bring mercs onto your own planet?”
“How do we know they haven’t?” At Rafe’s startled look, Mac nodded. “How do we know that tinkering with the surveillance satellites wasn’t done by an outsider? Even a renegade ISC employee on the take? Mackensee won’t take both sides in a conflict, so the quickest way to find out if the opfor hired them is to see if they can be hired here for someone else—us. If they can, they’ll also know if any other company is already here, and tell us.”
Rafe cocked his head. “I believe, Master Sergeant, I did not fully appreciate your talents before now.”
Mac chuckled. “You young fellas rarely do until a pinch comes. Specially the smart ones, like you.”
“So first thing is to give the tight-beam from here some extra protection and then—?”
“I want to talk to that captain. I don’t know him, but I’m sure the admiral briefed him on what she knew of the situation here, whom she trusted.”
Rafe nodded. “I’ll get to it now, if that’s all.”
“All for now.”
Mac watched him go. For all that he wasn’t Ky Vatta’s blood relative, he felt a familial connection through Grace, and he had not been at all sure that young man was a fit partner for the woman Ky had become. He was older, skilled in ways Mac hoped Ky hadn’t picked up, as smooth a liar as Mac had ever met, and he’d met plenty. A killer, too. Admitted it… but then, Ky wasn’t the naïve young cadet he’d known. Blood on her hands, too, some of it up close and personal.
“You’ve got that look,” Grace said. She stood in the kitchen door, apron on and a large wooden spoon in one hand. He could smell molasses and spices. She looked exactly like someone’s grandmother or great-aunt, traditional and harmless. Except for the eyes, and the bulge of something hard in the apron pocket.
“What look?”
“That If he harms her I’ll pull out his guts one centimeter at a time look. You’re not still feeling protective about Ky, are you?”
He shrugged. “It wouldn’t do any good if I were.”
“They’re well matched, those two,” Grace said. “Like us, though we’re older and more sedate—”
Mac snorted. “You? Me?”
“Well, you have that correct military demeanor. Expressionless face, when you want it; no overt emotional cues.”
“I used to. Being around you has roughed up the edges a little. But if that’s all it takes for sedateness, your sweet-old-lady act is overkill.”
Grace shrugged, both shoulders rising the same amount now, he noticed. “So what can you tell me, you and Rafe?”
“Some things we can’t.”
“Of course. Those at the top are the last to know and the first to die.”
“Not always the first,” Mac said. He took her hand. “There may be consequences. You may not be happy about it.”
“There are always consequences,” Grace said. “And if something exciting happens and saves me from terminal boredom in a job you pushed me into—”
“It could happen,” Mac said, watching her closely. “It could end badly, or it could end with the need for a sudden departure.”
“I’d like to get the Vatta situation nailed down before that.”
“Um. How long after we retrieve Ky do you think that will take?”
“That bad, eh? Fine, then I’ll put the family on alert, get Stella back onplanet—”
“Will she be safe? Never mind, sweet old lady dear, I know you can handle that.”
“I wonder if we should contract some outside muscle,” Grace said, looking away from him into a distance greater than the other side of the room. “Didn’t you say you’d met a nice senior NCO in some merc outfit that Ky knew?”