“For the councilwoman?” Destrang asked. “Lucky chap.”
“No,” Herzer said. “For her assistants. You might have noticed that things are a bit confused around here today. We had an attack on the building last night. I’m not sure if it was directed at Megan or because New Destiny got wind we were forming another team. Whichever it was, security has been increased. And that includes for the councilwoman’s aides.”
“Ah,” Destrang said. “Well, bully on Gerson.”
“Herzer?” Shanea asked from the door. “Do you want anything?” She had gotten over her hangover and was looking as perky as usual. If anything, more perky.
“No, thank you, Shanea,” Herzer said.
“Was that one of the councilwoman’s aides?” Destrang asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes,” Herzer said, grimacing.
“Didn’t mention that, did you, sir?” Destrang asked, grinning.
“One of them will be staying here, as well,” Herzer noted. “Meredith is Megan’s political aide. She’ll be staying here to keep an eye on some of the political actions Megan has been pushing.” Herzer paused and frowned, trying to figure out how to put what he wanted to say into words. “You’re aware, in general, of Megan’s background?”
“Yes, sir,” Van Krief said sharply. “We are.”
“Well, all of her… assistants came from the same source,” Herzer said. “You’ll both be meeting Meredith I’m sure.” He looked at Destrang, frowning and shrugged. “I’d strongly advise against setting your lance, Lieutenant. Strongly advise against it. Meredith can kill your career with a word and… she would do so if you gave her offense. Clear?”
“Clear,” Destrang said quietly.
“She can be rather… cold when you first get to know her,” Herzer continued. “And generally stays that way.”
“Clear,” Destrang repeated.
“Just… use your best judgment,” Herzer said. “And speaking of best judgment; you’re both going to be exposed to some very high level information in this job. And Destrang, at least, is going to be moving around people who are not cleared for this information. Don’t be a source, understand?”
“Yes, sir,” the lieutenants chorused.
“Destrang, you’ve been working in intel for the last few months?”
“I’ve been analyzing data from some of the activity in the southwest, sir,” Destrang said. “It’s all been low-level stuff and the position is only classified confidential.”
“Any training on how to avoid giving away information?” Herzer asked.
“Oh, and in gathering it, sir,” Destrang said with a chuckle. “Done a bit of it just to keep in training. You approach a person in a natural setting, give them a tidbit of information that indicates that you know all about what they’re doing then ‘talk shop.’ There are other techniques.”
“How do you guard against it?” Herzer asked. He realized as he asked the question that he had never had a class in information control. Generally, he just didn’t talk about anything that might be useful information.
“Never discuss your job with anyone you don’t know is cleared, sir,” Destrang answered. “When someone you don’t know is cleared wants to talk shop, talk shop about their job or change the subject. Never admit that anything they say as an assumption is true.”
“Hmph,” Herzer said, wondering how many times he’d been probed over the years. He also knew that one of the first rules of leadership is knowing when to admit ignorance and when not. “Good answer. Keep it in mind in this job. You, too, Van Krief.”
“Yes, sir,” Destrang said.
“How long have you been living here, sir?” Van Krief asked, changing the subject.
“Four months,” Herzer said. “I’ve been assigned to ops working on warplans for the upcoming invasion. And, of course, swaining Megan around to parties,” he added, frowning. “But that’s out the window for the time being. We’ll be leaving sometime tomorrow. This afternoon, I’ll brief in Van Krief on what we’re looking at. This evening I’ve got meetings with command on preliminary plans.”
“And those are?” Van Krief asked.
“When I figure that out, I’ll tell you,” Herzer admitted.
“So that’s what we’re looking at,” Herzer said, gesturing at the schematic that was laid out on the living room floor. “We won’t know where we’re going to dock until we get there. No team can be trained to simply go for a single objective because it will depend upon where they dock. And there are three potential objectives. Which one we strike at first depends on the distribution of our forces.”
“That’s why they went with all soldiers in the first wave,” Van Krief said, nodding at the briefing papers.
“Right,” Herzer said. “And they were going to bore for the control center, no matter what. Unless we’re concentrated near the control center, I’m going to bore for the one spot nobody should care about.”
“Where?” Van Krief asked, sliding her hand over the schematic. “Engineering?”
“Nope,” Herzer said. “Maintenance.”
Chapter Eleven
Chansa waited in the reflection dappled dimness as Reyes strode down the corridor of pillars.
The meeting had been, perforce, in Celine’s domain since it was in person and Celine refused to go beyond the walls of the Nira valley. The chosen venue was an ancient temple, once ruined and now restored to much of its former glory, a building of massive pillars supporting a heavy, and heavily carved, roof. The sides of the building, which was perched at the top of a high bluff, were open to hot, dry winds and the view to the east revealed apparently limitless deserts. To the west was a broad river valley touched by green and crisscrossed by irrigation ditches and which was, again, limited to the west by another bluff and more desert.
Each of the New Destiny council members had claimed broad lands, but Celine’s were relatively limited; she controlled only the Nira valley but it was hers in a way that Frika, for example, which was titularly Chansa’s, was not. He had afforded himself only a brief glance of the surroundings but it was clear that it bore all the hallmarks of Celine’s touch.
Celine Reinshafen was a short woman with dark brown hair and skin that was tanned a light brown by the desert sun. At first glance she appeared entirely normal, except for the Key around her neck. Then, when you looked at her eyes, it was clear that she was no longer of this world. She was New Destiny’s premier designer of “specialized biologicals” which even Chansa had come to call “monsters.” Celine called them her “pets.” It was in Celine’s labs that the orcs and ogres that made up the bulk of Chansa’s forces had first been developed. It was from Celine’s mind that methods for creating the horribly Changed elves sprung, full-blown, as if some latter day, evil, Athena Nike. Thousands of them were being grown in darkness; in tenebrous chambers where weird fungal growths digested noisome refuse to feed the pods. It was from Celine that specialized assassination forms had come, modifications to dragons that made them more effective at combat, all of the monsters that were New Destiny’s weapons in the war.
And unlike Chansa and Reyes, she appeared unprotected by a field. There were times at meetings like this that Chansa considered removing her from the world of the living. Of swiftly drawing his massive sword and cutting her head from her body, a wound that not even Mother would heal.
But he never did. For one thing, he knew he needed her. The Freedom Coalition had been victorious in too many battles to remove any edge. For another reason, he doubted that she was unprotected and he knew in his bones that he, Chansa, would never survive even if he managed to kill her.