“Vote was not unanimous,” Zhukovski said. “Perhaps we should speak to opposition–”
“One vote hardly qualifies as ‘opposition,’ Evgeni, and you know it. I admire what Councilman Braddock has done as much as you, but his days are numbered, as well. Borge will not tolerate him for long, and he will no doubt join our other redoubtable colleagues in ‘retirement.’”
“Even more reason to consider other alternatives.”
L’Houillier rolled his eyes. “You never give up, do–”
The comm panel beeped, accompanied by a blinking red light. L’Houillier slapped it with his hand. “Oui?” he barked.
Admiral Laskowski’s face appeared on the panel. Out of sight from the comm panel’s view, Zhukovski made an expression of exquisite disgust.
“The prisoners are about to arrive from Furious, sir,” she said. “The president ordered–”
“I am aware of the president’s orders, admiral,” he snapped. It must be an effort for her, L’Houillier thought, to conceal her sentiment that the old Grand Admiral was long past retirement, holding a position that she was rightfully entitled to. Well, he thought sourly, she would just have to wait a bit longer, now wouldn’t she? “I shall be down at once.” He snapped the circuit closed.
Zhukovski was already on his feet, straightening his uniform, setting his face into its accustomed stony expression. “Since I was little boy, I always like to see parade,” he said. “But not this time. Not today.”
“Nor I,” the Grand Admiral said quietly as he stood up to follow Zhukovski from the room. Pausing at the door, he looked back at the partially emptied bottle of vodka and suddenly wished that he could sit here and finish the rest of it, rather than participate in the spectacle that Borge had prepared.
Sighing, he relinquished the thought. Maybe when I retire with a bullet in the brain, he told himself bitterly.
Admiral Laskowski fumed at L’Houillier’s brush-off. Your day of reckoning is coming, old man, she thought angrily. She knew he had been President Nathan’s military pet, but it was a new administration, a new leader, and she was already on the inside track. For now, she would have to bide her time and be patient.
She was just about to head out of the Combat Information Center, or CIC, for the president’s ceremony when she saw the sailor manning the STARNET terminal suddenly stiffen. He was obviously reading an incoming message, probably from one of the scoutships that were probing ever deeper into Kreelan space.
While she technically wasn’t in charge of the watch – the officer of the deck was a full commander who was otherwise occupied on the far side of the dark, sprawling compartment – she was the senior officer present and had the privilege to poke her nose into whatever might be going on.
Curiosity drawing her onward, she walked over to the rating who was now staring in wonder at the STARNET display. “What’s going on, sailor?” she asked.
The man turned to her, a look of awe on his face. “They found it,” he said in little more than a whisper. “One of the scoutships – SV1287, commanded by Lieutenant Weigand – found the Kreelan homeworld!”
A tingle of excitement ran up Laskowski’s spine. “Are they sure? Have you gotten confirmation?”
“There’s none needed, ma’am,” the sailor told her, his voice now laced with excitement. “Look at the plot: there are thousands of ships in the system they found. Thousands!”
Laskowski’s eyes grew wide as she looked at the display sent in by the aptly – if informally – named Obstinate. She knew Lieutenant Weigand only by reputation, but in about ten minutes she would make sure that he was Lieutenant Commander Weigand. She quickly scanned the report: he had taken some incredible chances, doing a series of jumps along the vector of one of the Kreelan battle groups he had picked up. Hoping to emerge from one of the jumps close enough to pick up readings from any inhabited systems along that vector, he finally struck not just gold, but platinum. There were nearly three thousand combat vessels – the same number she had predicted, she thought smugly – in that system, and spectral analyses and neutrino readings indicated an incredibly advanced civilization was present. Most of it was concentrated on a planet and major moon in the system at a distance from the sun where water could exist as a liquid, and thus support carbon-based life. There were other targets in the system, including the asteroids, but the fourth planet from the star was obviously the primary target, along with its orbiting moon.
There was no mistake, no room for doubt. They had found it.
“My God,” she whispered. Turning to the officer of the deck, who was heading her way to see what was going on, she said, “Commander, I want this information to be held closely until I say otherwise. No one – no one – else is to see or hear of this report until I have a chance to discuss it with Admiral L’Houillier. Is that clear?”
“Aye, ma’am,” the commander replied crisply.
Satisfied, Laskowski turned on her heel and hurried out of CIC. But she had no plans of telling L’Houillier, at least not until after she had told the president himself.
“Tony?” Enya called above the murmur of the crowd. “Tony Braddock?” Her shuttle had arrived scant moments ago. After being led away from the landing zone by the courteous crew chief, she found herself among the crowd of dignitaries and other military and civilian personnel who had assembled in the Warspite’s starboard landing bay.
“Enya!” Tony shouted, waving his arm for her to join him. He stood off by himself, his glum face brightening at her appearance. “What are you doing here?”
“I was chosen to represent Erlang on the Council,” she told him, her eyes wide at the sight around her, the hundreds – thousands? – of people filling the great ship’s landing bay.
But the sight of Tony Braddock and the look on his face diverted her attention to the here and now, as well as reaffirming her suspicions about the dark nature of the gathering of people around her. Looking around quickly, deciding that it was safe amid the background noise, she quietly told him, “We were told to supply a representative for the expedition or be cut off from all Confederation aid. Borge’s hands around our throat are as tight as ever.”
Braddock nodded grimly. “You aren’t the only ones. He made the same speech to the entire Council, telling us all that anyone who doesn’t toe the line is going to be cut off. Or worse.”
Enya shook her head incredulously. The Kreelans had done damage enough. Now, humanity had inherited a maniacal leader, as well. “Where is Nicole?” she asked, hoping to brighten the conversation.
Tony frowned. “I don’t know. They have me billeted with the rest of the politicos, and I haven’t been able to spend much time with her since we left Earth.” He craned his neck around, his eyes searching. “I haven’t spotted her in the crowd, but I’m sure she’s here somewhere.”
“What is going on?” Enya asked. “Why is everyone gathering together like this? Is Borge going to address everyone, or what?”
Braddock was incredulous. “You didn’t know?”
“Know what?” From the look on his face, she was sure she was going to regret finding out.
“They’re transferring some Kreelan prisoners from the Furious,” he paused, “along with Reza and Jodi Mackenzie. They were captured on their way to Erlang.”