Harald halted by his door and, without the intercession of a control baton, sent the access code direct from the hardware in his foamite suit. The door unlocked and he pushed it open. Sensing that his quarters were occupied, he drew his side arm, then quickly darted in and to one side, the weapon levelled at the figure occupying the chair beside his console.
"Have you so many enemies, Harald?" asked Yishna.
Harald kept his weapon sighted on his sister, while eyeing the small pistol she held. She watched him for a moment, then glanced down at the pistol.
"Combine manufacture," she said, placing the weapon down then sliding it to the back of his desk. "Surely Fleet possess better weapons?"
Returning his side arm to its holster, Harald closed the door behind him and advanced into the room. To obtain that little Combine gun, she had obviously opened the code-locked storage compartment under his desk—not a serious problem for her, of course.
"To answer both your questions, I do have a few enemies. There are some in Fleet not averse to using assassination as a means of gaining promotion, though there're few like that here on Ironfist. Hence my reaction to you just then, and hence the presence of an unregistered weapon here in my quarters." He walked over to his samovar and tapped himself a cup of the same pungent tea Yishna was presently sipping. While doing this he tried to relax the tension that seemed to entwine steel springs through his body.
"I had not realised," said Yishna, looking dismayed.
Harald immediately understood that she referred to his tacom alterations, and not the fact that he had enemies. "Communication is the key, sister. It always has been."
"Some might consider it mutilation."
Harald grimaced, carefully placed his cup down by the samovar, then removed his helmet and glove, placing them down beside it. Taking up the cup again, he finally turned and seated himself on his divan. "Perhaps you should be the last to make such observations, since this technology stems from your own research."
"Perhaps."
"So why are you here, sister?"
Yishna stared at his adapted eye. "Interesting. It merely looks like you've received a poke in the eye, yet we both know the largest alterations are behind it."
"I asked you why you are here."
Yishna stared at him a moment longer, then said, "I'm here because, apparently, some suicidal Brumallians fired a missile at the ship I was aboard. Those surviving the attack were picked up by Ironfist's rescue boats. Seven others died, including, apparently, the Consul Assessor."
"Regrettable," said Harald. "I was looking forward to interrogating him during Inigis's trial."
"I suspect you would have found it an illuminating experience."
"Doubtless."
"What happened to Inigis's ship?" Yishna asked. "I know it was hit by a Brumallian missile and that there was a detonation in one of the silos aboard, shoving it into a decaying orbit, but that's about it. No one here seems inclined to tell me any more."
"It nearly went down, but Inigis, ignoring the order confining him to his cabin for his alleged attempt on the Consul Assessor's life, took command again and saved the day by detonating a second weapon in another silo, thus changing his ship's trajectory. His actions will of course be taken into account when he comes to trial."
"What are you up to, Harald?"
"I'm not sure I understand your question."
"We two are driven; we studied hard and we learned, and have now attained high positions in Sudorian society. I have only one more step yet to make to become Director of Corisanthe Main, but my work sufficiently satisfies me that I'm prepared to wait until Director Gneiss steps down." Yishna frowned as if remembering something unpleasant, then shook her head and continued, "What are you waiting for, Harald—and are you waiting at all?"
"The stratified ranking system of Fleet will not allow me to take the position of Admiral, since Captain Dravenik gets precedence. However, as Fleet Tacom I now hold more power in fact than Carnasus holds in name. Standing at his shoulder, I've reached the highest position I can attain without a major readjustment of the ranking system."
"And killing the Polity Consul Assessor helps this how?"
"I don't know. Perhaps you'd better ask the Brumallians that."
Yishna just stared at him for a long moment before going on: "It may be that the Polity does not represent as much of a danger as you might think."
"Our affairs here are complicated enough as they are without outside interference," Harald snapped, not sure why he suddenly felt so angry.
"David McCrooger was a very interesting person…" Yishna trailed off, staring at something distant. "I…I thought I would be able to easily play him, understand his motivations and the true intent of this Polity, but every time I began to feel I knew what he was all about, some new level to him was revealed." She focused on Harald. "Like sometimes when you talk to someone intelligent and old, you keep uncovering layers of complexity."
"Perhaps that is precisely what he is," Harald replied. "We don't know how good their medical science is, so he may have been much older than he looked. I in fact think that rather likely."
"I asked him about their policy regarding imprisoned sentients, should the Polity take over here."
Harald felt something go quiet inside him, waiting. Every sound in this room suddenly became intense and every object clearly denned and subject to his full perception.
"His reply?" he asked casually.
Yishna's nictitating membranes flicked closed, giving her eyes an opaque sheen. "He told me that in the case of corrupt totalitarian regimes they grant a full amnesty to all prisoners, though those guilty of capital crimes are checked for socio- or psychopathic tendencies. But because our regime is not such, cases would be individually reviewed under Polity law, and those found innocent of any crime would be released. But Polity intercession is unlikely."
"Reviewed under Polity law," Harald repeated. "Your impression?"
Now, in a noticeably flat tone, his sister replied, "I am sure that those unjustly imprisoned would be released no matter who or what they are."
Harald felt himself returning to a more normal level of perception. Yishna's nictitating membranes opened and she looked about with annoyance.
"It happened again," she said.
"It often happens when we meet after being apart for some time."
She glanced up at him. "It's some sort of communication—non-verbal."
"It is," Harald agreed, "but I fail to divine its purpose." He paused for a moment then asked, "How goes your research into the Worm?"
Yishna shook her head as if dispelling idiocy. "I can record bleed-over now—not telepathic inductance after all, but some inductance phenomena related to underspace." She was now fidgeting, as if bored with this conversation.
"Which the Polity would know all about, of course. It is a shame that David McCrooger is now dead, for he could perhaps have helped you in many ways."