A cone appeared on the map, its tip on Rho Scorvi, its edges passing through the bubble around Semaline. "So," Alison said. "Inside that cone are all the places Frost might have been heading when Neverlin diverted him to Semaline to pick me up."
"Big help," Jack growled. "There must be two hundred systems in that area."
"At least," Alison agreed. "One last thing, Uncle Virge: add in the list of systems I gave you earlier."
A dozen spots of blue appeared on the map. One, and only one, was within the cone. "The blue spots are places where the Malison Ring is embroiled in major military actions," Alison said. "Where they've deployed large numbers of troops and vehicles." She paused expectantly.
Jack caught his breath as he suddenly understood. "And warships."
"Bingo," Alison confirmed, sounding very pleased with herself. "Do I need to spell it out any more?"
"He intends to steal Malison Ring ships," Draycos said thoughtfully, finally releasing Jack's hand.
"Or else to fake orders to bring in the ones he needs," Alison said. "Either way, it seriously narrows down his jump-off point. And it gives us something to look for in the data stream."
"That will help considerably," Draycos agreed.
"Thank you," Alison said. "And on top of that, there's still the last advance team safe."
"Which is on Brum-a-dum," Jack reminded her.
"Not for long," Alison said. "After the Malison Ring raid, Neverlin's not going to think that's a very smart place to keep it anymore. If we can figure out when he plans to move it, and if we can get to it, we now know how to open it."
"At which point we can get the rendezvous point directly," Draycos said, a note of cautious excitement coloring his voice.
"Maybe," Jack said, his stomach twisting. So again, Alison had won. He hoped she was properly proud of herself. "Congratulations."
He started to turn away. To his surprise, Alison reached across the table and caught his hand. "You lost one, Jack," she said. "It hurts. I know that."
"Everyone know what it feels like to lose," Jack retorted. "Do you know what it feels like to have people die because of you?"
To his surprise, he saw Alison's throat tighten. "Yes, I do," she said quietly. "You lost this one. We won't lose the next one."
"If we make sure not to focus on the wrong things," Taneem murmured.
Alison frowned at her. "What?"
"I was thinking of Gazen," Taneem said. "He died because he was focused only on me, and couldn't see those behind him."
"He never was much of a warrior," Jack said.
"Jack and Draycos are focused on saving Draycos's people." Taneem cocked her head. "What are you focused on, Alison?"
It was, Jack thought, a blasted good question. "Well?" he prompted.
"Don't worry about me," Alison assured him. "I have all the focus I need."
Jack snorted gently. "That's not an answer."
"No," Alison said, her eyes going strangely distant. "But it's all you're going to get."
"Ah—Wing Sergeant Langston," Frost said as two of the mercenaries brought Langston into the office and sat him down in the chair across from the colonel's desk. "You'll be pleased to know we've finally confirmed your identity."
"Certainly took you long enough," Langston commented, glancing around the room. It was far too nice a place for a simple mercenary colonel. Probably Arthur Neverlin's place, then. Or possibly Cornelius Braxton's.
Frost shrugged. "We had to dig through the missing-inaction files to find you." He smiled tightly. "Fortunately, you were there, and not in the AWOL files. It would have taken at least another day or two to crack into those."
"Don't worry about it," Langston assured him. "The food here is a lot better than the stuff the Golvins fed me for five years. I appreciate your getting me out of there, by the way."
Frost's eyes hardened. "And I appreciate your fine decoy work in helping Jack Morgan slip out of our hands," he said. "That's a professional appreciation only, you understand, not a personal one."
"Yeah, and I'm sorry about that," Langston apologized. "If I'd understood how much you wanted him, I'd never have let him talk me into that. I can probably kiss away the money he promised me, too."
"He promised you money?"
Langston snorted. "Oh, yeah. Some nice soap-bubble sky-mansion about setting me up for life once he took out you and Neverlin."
"Yes, Morgan excels at such promises," Frost agreed. "It runs in the family. Unfortunately for you, even if he meant it, he's on the losing side."
"I'm starting to get that impression," Langston said sourly. "Though frankly, it'll almost be worth the money he's stiffing me to watch him go down in flames. Him and that nasty little pet dragon of his."
"You don't like our noble K'da poet-warrior?"
"He could have helped me," Langston said. "He could have come down the rabbit hole with me, silenced those Golvins, then helped me get back up. But he didn't. I don't know what kind of military he claims to belong to, but it's not one I'd ever want to serve in."
Frost leaned back thoughtfully in his chair. "Then perhaps you might be interested in having a front-row seat at their demise?"
Langston smiled. Finally: the invitation he'd been waiting for. About time, too. "Absolutely," he said grimly. "Just show me where I sign."