“I—” Ganhar broke off and drew a deep breath. “Inanna, you have to realize how what you’ve just said sounds. I’m not going to suggest that you do anything to Anu. You’re right; I don’t understand why you feel the way you do, but I’ll accept it and remember it. But don’t you worry about what else I might do with the insight you’ve just given me?”
“Of course not, Ganhar.” She lounged back in her chair with a kindly air. “We both know I’ve just turned all of your calculations topsy-turvy, but you’re a bright little boy. Given a few decades to consider it, you’ll realize I wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t already taken precautions. That’s valuable in its own right, don’t you think? I mean, knowing that, crazy or not, I’ll kill you the moment you become a threat to Anu or me is bound to color your thinking, isn’t it?”
“I suppose you could put it that way.”
“Then my visit hasn’t been a waste, has it?” She rose and stretched, deliberately taunting him with the exquisite perfection of the body she wore as she turned for the hatch. Then she paused and looked back over her shoulder almost coquettishly.
“Oh! I almost forgot. I meant to warn you about Bahantha.”
Ganhar blinked again. What about Bahantha? She was his senior assistant, number two in Operations now that he’d replaced Kirinal, and she was one of the very few people he trusted. His thoughts showed in his face, and Inanna shook her head at his expression.
“Men! You didn’t even know that she’s Jantu’s lover, did you?” She laughed merrily at his sudden shock.
“Are you certain?” he demanded.
“Of course. Jantu controls the official security channels, but I control biosciences, and that’s a much better spy system than he has. You might want to remember that yourself. But the thing is, I think you’d better arrange for her to suffer a mischief, don’t you? An accident would be nice. Nothing that would cast suspicion on you, just enough to send her along to sickbay.” Her toothy smile put Ganhar forcefully in mind of a Terran piranha.
“I … understand,” he said.
“Good,” she replied, and sauntered from his cabin. The hatch closed, and Ganhar looked blindly back at the map. It was amazing. He’d just acquired a powerful ally … so why did he feel so much worse?
Abu al-Nasir, who had not allowed himself to think of himself as Andrew Asnani in over two years, sat in the rear of the cutter and yawned. He’d seen enough Imperial technology in the last six months to take the wonder out of it, and he judged it best to let the Imperials about him see it.
In fact, his curiosity was unquenchable, for unlike most of the northerners’ Terra-born, he had never seen Nergal and never knowingly met a single one of their Imperials. That, coupled with his Semitic heritage, was what had made him so perfect for this role. He was of them, yet apart from them, unrelated to them by blood and with no family heritage of assistance to connect him to them, however deep the southerners’ looked.
It also meant he hadn’t grown up knowing the truth, and the shock of discovering it had been the second most traumatic event in his life. But it had offered him both vengeance and a chance to build something positive from the wreckage of his life, and that was more than he’d let himself hope for in far too long.
He yawned again, remembering the evening his universe had changed. He’d known something special was about to happen, although his wildest expectations had fallen immeasurably short of the reality. Full colonels with the USFC did not, as a rule, invite junior sergeants in the venerable Eighty-Second Airborne to meet them in the middle of a North Carolina forest in the middle of the night. Not even when the sergeant in question had applied for duty with the USFC’s anti-terrorist action units. Unless, of course, his application had been accepted and something very, very strange was in the air.
But his application had not been accepted, for the USFC had never even officially seen it. Colonel MacMahan had scooped it out of his computers and hidden it away because he had an offer for Sergeant Asnani. A very special offer that would require that Sergeant Asnani die.
The colonel, al-Nasir admitted to himself, had been an excellent judge of character. Young Asnani’s mother, father, and younger sister had walked down a city street in New Jersey just as a Black Mecca bomb went off, and when he heard what the colonel had to suggest, he was more than ready to accept.
The pre-arranged “fatal” practice jump accident had gone off perfectly, purging Asnani from all active data bases, and his true training had begun. The USFC hadn’t had a thing to do with it, although it had been some time before Asnani realized that. Nor had he guessed that the exhausting training program was also a final test, an evaluation of both capabilities and character, until the people who had actually recruited him told him the truth.
Had anyone but Hector MacMahan told him, he might not have believed it, despite the technological marvels the colonel demonstrated. But when he realized who had truly recruited him and why, and that his family had been but three more deaths among untold millions slaughtered so casually over the centuries, he had been ready. And so it was that when the USFC mounted Operation Odysseus, the man who had been Andrew Asnani was inserted with it, completely unknown to anyone but Hector MacMahan himself.
Now the cutter slanted downward, and Abu al-Nasir, deputy action commander of Black Mecca, prepared to greet the people who had summoned him here.
“Except for the fact that we’ve only gotten one man inside, things seem to be moving well,” Hector MacMahan said. Jiltanith had followed him into the wardroom, and she nodded to Colin and selected a chair of her own, sitting with her habitual cat-like grace.
“So far,” Colin agreed. “What do you and ’Tanni expect next?”
“Hard to say,” Hector admitted. “They’ve got most of their people inside by now, and, logically, they’ll sit tight in their enclave to wait us out. On the other hand, every time we use any of our own Imperials in an operation we give them a chance to trail someone back to us, so they’ll probably leave us some sacrificial goats. We’ll have to hit a few of them to make it work, and I’ve already put the ops plan into the works. We’re on schedule, but everything still depends on luck and timing.”
“Why am I unhappy whenever you use words like ‘logically’ and ‘luck’?”
“Because you know the southerners may not be too tightly wrapped, and that even if they are, we have to do things exactly right to bring this off.”
“Hector hath the right of’t, Colin,” Jiltanith said. “ ’Tis clear enow that Anu, at the least, is mad, and what means have we whereby to judge the depth his madness hath attained? I’truth, ’tis in my mind that divers others of his minions do share his madness, else had they o’erthrown him long before. ’Twould be rankest folly in our plans to make assumption madmen do rule their inner councils, yet ranker far to make assumption they do not. And if that be so, then naught but fools would foretell their plans wi’ certainty.”
“I see. But haven’t we tried to do just that?”
“There’s truth i’that. Yet so we must, if hope may be o’victory. And as Hector saith, ’tis clear some movement hath been made e’en now amongst their minions. Mad or sane, Anu hath scant choice i’that. ’Tis also seen how his ‘goats’ do stand exposed, temptations to our fire, and so ’twould seem good Hector hath beagled out the manner of their thought aright. Yet ’tis also true that one ill choice may yet bring ruin ’pon us all. I’truth, I do not greatly fear it, for Hector hath a cunning mind. We stand all in his hand, empowered by his thought, and ’tis most unlike our great design will go awry.”
“Spare my blushes,” MacMahan said dryly. “Remember I only got one man inside, and even if the core of our strategy works perfectly, we could still get hurt along the way.”
“Certes, yet wert ever needle-witted, e’en as a child, my Hector.” She smiled and ruffled her distant nephew’s hair, and he forgot his customary impassivity as he grinned at her. “And hath it not been always so? Naught worth the doing comes free o’danger. Yet ’tis in my mind ’tis in smaller things we may find ourselves dismayed, not in the greater.”