As if they’d previously experienced an invasion of their home. Tseya hadn’t either, but Tseya was the one of her mother’s brood who had opted for special forces training. It was one of the reasons Inesser got along so well with her. If Viendris had any firsthand knowledge of combat, it was news to Inesser. But she wasn’t going to quibble about niceties of phrasing.
“In that case,” Inesser said, “I’ll count on you to keep the others calm.”
“But of course.” With that, Viendris signed off.
Tseya was too well-bred to say anything impolite about her cousin. (Inesser had never figured out the exact relationship, not least because three gene-donors and a surrogate were involved in the mix, on top of the usual modding.) But her fingers relaxed slightly when Viendris was no longer on the line.
“I’m so glad you’re the one attached to my staff and not them,” Inesser murmured.
Tseya half-smiled.
Next call, for which she couldn’t help bracing herself: Commandant Kel Mishke, who held the Fortress of Pearled Hopes. Inesser had never liked him, which was immaterial because he excelled at his job. “Open the line,” she said, because she didn’t believe in delaying the inevitable.
Mishke’s face appeared before her. She winced inside every time she had to look at it. His older sister had been one of her wives, once upon a time. At certain angles they resembled each other strongly, even though Lyoshke had been dead these past twenty years. That wasn’t why they didn’t get along, but it didn’t help.
“General,” Mishke said. He refused to use her new title. Inesser tolerated it because he was family. “Thanks so much for bringing your diplomatic initiatives home with you.”
“Fuck you too,” Inesser said amiably. Family only went so far.
Mishke sneered at her. “Told you going to that crashhawk boy with your speeches and concessions would go nowhere good.”
Inesser suppressed a growl. “I’m so glad your viewpoint has been vindicated,” Inesser said sarcastically, “but did you have anything important to tell me?”
“You should have claimed the seat,” Mishke said. A nine-year-old argument. She’d always suspected that he would have liked to be part of the hexarch’s family, in a world after the hivemind’s demise. “It’s not too late now.”
“Because the choice of title makes so much difference to the average citizen?”
“No,” Mishke said. “You’re not listening.” He made an abortive gesture near his mouth. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? We never listen to each other.”
“Commandant,” Inesser said, “get to the hawkfucking point.”
“Declare yourself hexarch,” Mishke said. “Give up this protectorate nonsense. Join forces with Shuos Jedao.”
Inesser stared at him. “You’re out of your mind.”
“It is Jedao, isn’t it? I’ve read the intel too.”
“He hasn’t bannered yet,” she said reluctantly, “but there aren’t many other people it could be.”
“Well, then.” Mishke’s hands opened and closed. “I know you have your pride, General, but the only thing that will happen for sure if you fight the latest incarnation of the Immolation Fox is that a lot of people will die, and for what cause?”
Inesser snorted. “I’m not afraid of him.”
“I am,” Mishke said quietly.
“Now you’re hurting my pride.”
“I’m keeping an eye on the scouts’ reports too, you know. Jedao’s getting closer. I would prefer to keep him from annihilating Pearled Hopes the way he annihilated Isteia.”
“You think a madman will listen if I negotiate with him? Because that worked so well at Isteia.”
“Even a madman might appreciate the chance to preserve his forces instead of expending them against the oldest—sorry, second-oldest general in the hexarchate. Former hexarchate.”
Inesser glared at him. “It’s so good that I know you’re giving me this advice so that we can consider all options, because that way I don’t have to accuse you of treason.”
It was a measure of Mishke’s seriousness that he didn’t burst into scornful laughter. “We passed that point when you seized power, dear sister-in-law. Surely it didn’t occur to you that you’d be the only one with such ambitions. If a hawk, why not a fox? The hexarchate has never prospered under single leadership. But you might be able to convince Jedao to work with you.”
“This is,” Inesser said, “the first time since I met your sister that you have ever showed any confidence in my powers of persuasion.”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”
“Even if I threw in my lot with Jedao,” she said, “our people would never go along with it. Nor our allies.”
Mishke’s face shuttered. “I hope this battle doesn’t end in an ugly I-told-you-so.”
“Don’t worry,” Inesser said with gruesome cheer, “by that time we’ll both be dead anyway. Your duty, Commandant.”
“We’re Kel,” Mishke said dryly, “it’s what we all do.” With that he signed off.
“Don’t say it,” Inesser added to Miuzan the moment her brother-in-law’s face disappeared.
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Miuzan said. She might even have been telling the truth.
Inesser’s attention returned to the tactical map. The most maddening part of any battle was the waiting. They’d laid in their preparations long before.
The asteroid belt beyond Terebeg 4 was seeded with several picket swarms to keep watch for the invaders. As Jedao’s own scoutmoths approached, the pickets would emerge from hiding to engage and destroy them, denying him reconnaissance, then scuttle back to the asteroids’ shelter. Jedao would be expecting this, but it was still worth doing.
Inesser had set up the system’s defenses around the necessity of countering the butchermoth’s gravity cannon. Geometry was both enemy and friend. They knew from the previous engagement that its effect propagated in a narrow cone, dissipating with distance. Luckily for her, Jedao only appeared to have one gravity cannon, and he’d only come in with one swarm. If she could attack him from multiple directions, only exposing a sacrificial swarm to bear the brunt of the cannon’s attack, they might have a chance.
Of course, if they were up against Kujen, who knew if they could rely on numerical superiority. If her luck was especially bad—and Kel luck tended to be—Jedao had reinforcements lurking out beyond the listening posts’ range, or even worse, stealthed and ready to swoop in. But planning could only take account of so much paranoia.
Besides the gravity cannon’s limitations, her main advantage was foreknowledge of Jedao’s intent. Historically he’d been known for anticipating his opponent and tying them up in knots. Here, however, he had a fixed target, which limited the amount of trickery he could get up to.
Inesser conceded that Mishke had cause for nerves. She didn’t like unnecessary fighting. Only stupid Kel preferred to settle matters through bloodshed, although experience had shown her that this rarely stopped anyone. And Jedao was on the top of her list of people to avoid fighting. Unfortunately, that didn’t look like an option at this point.
After she had reviewed her orders and distributed them to the local swarm and yes, even her fucking brother-in-law the commandant, Inesser yanked out a chair and slumped down in it. What was the point of comfortable chairs if you didn’t allow yourself to sit in them once in a while, after all? “I wish I dared get drunk,” Inesser said.
“What, worried?” Miuzan said.
“Have I ever told you about the first time I met Jedao?” Inesser said.