“Well, we can’t prod Hexarch Mikodez from here, either,” Brezan said, “unless you plan on calling him up.”
“Absolutely not,” Tseya said.
“Well, then. Anything else I should pay attention to in current events?”
He wasn’t sure whether he hoped the answer was a no or a yes. They knew, for instance, that Jedao had resupplied at Tankut Primary thirteen days ago, although Brezan couldn’t hope that the stationers had indulged in some sabotage. The idea was to take out Jedao with minimal damage to the swarm, after all. Elsewhere, several systems in the general vicinity were experiencing civil disruptions. Lensmoths had been dispatched, which meant the Rahal suspected that full-fledged heresy was around the corner.
Tseya scanned the digests. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”
They passed the next two hours and seventy-three minutes with a minimum of conversation. Guiltily, Brezan was starting to wish that something would implode, just for variety, when Tseya swore under her breath. “What is it?” he asked.
“This isn’t going to end well,” she said, and passed the message over to his terminal.
“Please let it not be a surprise.”
“You won’t find it surprising, but it’s regrettable all the same.”
A moon-city and an orbital station had transmitted the Deuce of Gears when the Hafn veered close to their system. It had to be Brezan’s imagination that the red field was even bloodier than the one Jedao used. He smashed his fist against the terminal, then swore at the pain. Tseya frowned at him.
“Idiots,” Brezan said bitterly. “They didn’t need to do that. The Immolation Fox would have rescued them for some grandstanding purpose of his own if they’d been in real danger.” Aside from terrorizing the population, Brezan couldn’t see any good reason for the Hafn to bother. Neither city nor station had significant military value. “Now they’re going to be scoured.”
“Look at it from their point of view,” Tseya said. “The only Kel force in a position to chase off the foreigners is under Jedao’s control. They probably thought it was worth a try.” She put the hairstick down and fixed Brezan with a speculative stare. “Speaking of emblems, did you ever have a chance to register one?”
“My what?” Brezan said before he worked out what she meant. He blushed and averted his eyes, looking at the aquarium, then at the hairstick, anywhere but at her face. “You can’t be serious.”
“What, are you going with the temporary emblem?” she said, referring to the sword-and-feather.
Brezan made himself return her stare. “I don’t see why this is important all of a sudden,” he said. Was this some Andan thing about projecting the right image? “Jedao can’t have killed everyone in the swarm if it’s still functioning. There’ll be someone able to—”
“—take charge?”
He disliked the mocking edge to her tone, but maybe he had imagined it. “Look,” he said, “it’s inconsequential.”
Tseya leaned over and laid her palm on his chest right over the wings-and-flame insignia.
He froze.
“Are you telling me this is an illusion?” she said. “I thought the point of this exercise was for you to pull rank on Jedao the way he pulled rank on General Khiruev.”
Brezan wished desperately that he could pull away and stalk out of the command center, but Kel Command had assigned him to Tseya. Damned if he was going to slink away because of a few words. “It’s not an illusion,” he said. “It’s just—it’s just temporary.” How had the conversation turned hostile so suddenly?
“You’re not going to convince your own people if that’s all the conviction you can scare up.”
He glared at her, not trusting himself to speak.
“Look, you’re from a Kel family, yes?”
Brezan didn’t like where this was going.
Tseya waited. Her hand didn’t move.
“Yes,” he said stiffly, “although I don’t know why you’re asking me questions you know the answers to.”
“Two Kel sisters. One of whom is on General Inesser’s staff.”
“Go on,” Brezan said after counting to six, “tell me about my childhood.”
Her smile had no teeth in it. The teeth would have been friendlier. “You must be so disappointed that you can’t tell them about your spectacular new promotion.”
He couldn’t suppress his wince in time.
“Is there a proper way to tell your family that you’re a crashhawk?”
Thinking clearly was impossible. He had a flash of memory: the heat of her mouth, the curve of her neck, the delicious creamy skin of her thigh. “You know there isn’t,” he said. It was usually outprocessing or execution.
“It must be nice to be a special case,” she added before Brezan could devise a suitable retort. “I feel for you. I can’t imagine what they have planned for you once the mission’s over.”
Brezan clenched his teeth. The Andan were supposed to be the diplomatic ones. “I am Kel,” he said, although it felt as though he had to drag each word through fire and thorns. “I do what my orders tell me to. By choice if I must.”
Tseya’s eyes were pits of shadow. “You’re young yet,” she said, reminding him that he had only a vague idea of her age. “You’re going to be faced with orders for a long time. It doesn’t matter how perfectly you execute them, however many times. They’ll never accept you as a real Kel.”
Shuos Zehun’s words came back to Brezan with unhappy clarity: I wouldn’t have minded seeing you in the Shuos. Not that he could imagine why, given his inability to prevail in this conversation. Just because he was a failure as a Kel didn’t mean he’d make a good Shuos. He looked at Tseya, having given up on witty rejoinders, and waited for her next sally.
Tseya lowered her hand.
Brezan set his jaw and tried not to shudder with premature relief. He didn’t want to keep looking at Tseya. He made himself do so anyway.
“General,” Tseya said quietly, with none of the mockery from earlier.
He didn’t understand.
“General,” she said again, “have you figured out what the point of this exercise is?”
“I’m not a Shuos,” Brezan said, “and I’m not properly a Kel, either. Why don’t you explain it to me in one-syllable words and stick figures so I have a chance of following you.”
Tseya ignored his tone, which was just as well. “We have to be ready to fight Jedao,” she said. “If we’re unlucky, the matter might not be settled by a well-aimed bullet, or by enthrallment. He’s not just a soldier, Brezan. Ex-soldier, if you prefer. He’s the oldest Shuos, and while he’s crazy, he’s not stupid. Just because you’re a crashhawk doesn’t mean he can’t get you to do exactly as he wants. The records say he’s very good at persuasion, at needling people until they capitulate—or join him. You have got to be prepared.”
Brezan couldn’t contest any of this, but that didn’t make him feel any better. “You’ve made your point.”
“In case you’re wondering,” Tseya said, “I’m going to have to be careful myself.”
He didn’t trust himself to ask about her vulnerabilities.
“It was a long time ago,” Tseya said. Her hands opened and closed. “My mother is also an Andan, but we’ve spent most of our lives arguing. This last argument—it wasn’t a good one.”
“I’m sorry,” Brezan said then, because he ought to say something.
“As I said, it was a long time ago. I mostly don’t miss her.” She smiled oddly at him. “It will be very satisfying to dispatch the Immolation Fox, regardless. Especially since my mother doesn’t believe I can do it.”