Some of the staffers had heard the story, including Miuzan. But Tseya lifted her head and murmured, “Do tell.”
Miuzan sighed. “There we go...”
Inesser ignored her. She knew perfectly well that Miuzan’s recent moodiness had less to do with the possible end of civilization as they knew it and more to do with unfinished business with Brezan. “I was a lieutenant general at the time,” she said, “and as punishment for expressing in no uncertain terms that the black cradle should be blown up, they assigned me to work with his anchor.”
She still remembered Jedao’s anchor, a handsome specimen of a Kel whose life was being ruined because his wife turned heretic and he hadn’t denounced her quickly enough. In her quiet heart of hearts she spoke his name at pyre ceremonies, acknowledging the service he had given. Needless to say, Kel Command hadn’t bothered with any such thing after they euthanized him at the mission’s end.
“I thought you couldn’t speak to him directly?” Tseya said.
Ah, yes. Tseya knew more than most about the black cradle’s workings. “I couldn’t,” Inesser said, “but I never forgot he was listening. The ninefox shadow made that clear enough. And the Kel he was anchored to wasn’t particularly bright. The really good questions he asked about the op? Pure Shuos. It was like having a conversation whispered across a shrouded room. I could only guess at the silhouette at the other end, and its shape was ugly.”
“Let me guess,” Tseya said. “You’ve been looking for the chance to show him up ever since.”
Too bad Inesser hadn’t brought her embroidery with her, or she could have pitched it at Tseya. “Hardly,” Inesser said. “If I go the rest of my life without running into any iteration of Jedao, it can’t be too soon.”
“Well, you might get your chance,” Miuzan said. The other staffers were studiously avoiding looking straight at Inesser. “Shall I send for refreshments, sir, now that we’re done calling people for the moment? We might as well get eating out of the way sooner rather than later. To say nothing of tea.”
Inesser hated tea, not least because she associated it with meetings at ass o’clock, but she wouldn’t have dreamed of denying it to her people. “Go ahead,” she said. “Tell the kitchens to prepare something heartier than that bland soup they’ve been serving for the last week.” She caught Miuzan’s bemused expression. “What?”
“Well, sir,” Miuzan said, “if we’re going into our last battle we might as well be well-fed, is that the idea?”
“Do I need to make you write a paper on the importance of feeding your troops?” Inesser said. “Must be nice for that skullfucking bastard Kujen, not having to eat.”
“His anchor does, though, right?”
“Yes,” Inesser said, “but that’s a separate matter entirely. And I don’t imagine that’s by accident.” With that, she returned to reviewing the disposition of her defense swarms. Tedious as it was now, their lives would depend on it soon enough.
AS MUCH AS Inesser had hoped to devote time to preparations, she knew there would be unwelcome interruptions. Most of them she had anticipated. For instance, the governor of a certain moon kept trying to demand special treatment; Inesser fobbed her off on one of the staff.
She had sat down for a brief break and snacks when the call came. She prepared to ignore it. Miuzan was screening everything so that she could catch her damn breath.
Miuzan looked up from her slate, face grave. “This one’s above my pay grade, sir. And it’s requesting use of a secured line.”
“Oh, don’t you start.” Inesser took the slate from her. Froze. The headers claimed that the call had come from one Ajewen Cheris, using crypto keys she’d provided Brezan upon their parting. Inesser was momentarily distracted by a wave of ambivalence: on the one hand, it could hardly be argued that the crashhawk Cheris still deserved the Kel name; and on the other hand, once a Kel, always a Kel. “Well. Isn’t this unexpected. Colonel, what’s the status of the incoming swarm?”
Miuzan gestured at the display. “Still incoming, nothing new.”
Damn. Then Cheris and Brezan’s gambit had failed. That, or Kujen and Jedao had been assassinated, only to leave some ambitious would-be warmonger in charge of their swarm. She hated the thought of having to include a whole new player in her calculations, but she couldn’t dismiss the possibility out of hand, either.
“Open the line,” Inesser said, and prepared herself for bad news.
“Protector-General Inesser,” the woman said, “this is Ajewen Cheris. I have a status update that I felt you should hear directly.”
“Then speak,” Inesser said. Cheris’s drawl sent chills down her spine; she remembered Jedao’s previous anchor developing one as well. “If you’re going to tell me that Kujen and Jedao still have designs on the hexarchate, that’s not news.”
Cheris wasn’t fazed. “As you’ve surmised, the operation failed.”
“I’m surprised, honestly,” Inesser said. What Kel Command had done to Cheris would have had the side-effect of making her a superb assassin. “Yet you escaped?”
“Well, that’s the interesting part,” Cheris said grimly. “I shot Jedao twice in the forehead and once in the chest. It didn’t kill him. He started coming after me, security was alerted, I left. Whatever the hell is running around with Jedao’s face on that moth, either it’s not human or Kujen has figured out a way to give his general real immortality.”
“It was too much to hope that the state of the art would stay still on that front, given Kujen’s interests,” Inesser said. “You’re sure he didn’t just bleed out an hour after you were gone?”
“I left bugs on the command moth. Who knows how long they’ll survive, but as of the last check-in, Jedao’s still walking around.”
Inesser frowned at Cheris. “Well, this complicates matters.”
“There’s still a chance,” Cheris said. “Brezan will have informed you about the formations that can kill Kujen”—Inesser confirmed this with a curt nod—“but you still have to get past the gravity cannon. Let me help. I have a stealthed needlemoth. I can tip the balance in your favor, but I will need access to your battle plans.”
Inesser hadn’t forgotten how Cheris had toppled the hexarchate entire. At the same time, she couldn’t afford to ignore any resource. “A compromise,” she said. “Come to my headquarters at the Fortress of Pearled Hopes. We can confer here.” She had no intention of admitting to Cheris that Hexarch Mikodez had loaned her a strike force of several shadowmoths, themselves capable of stealth, although in all honesty both Cheris and Kujen had to have guessed their presence.
“These are my coordinates,” Cheris said. “I would prefer that you refrain from shooting me down once I unstealth.”
Cheris’s easy acquiescence meant she was up to something. Still, the gamble had to be taken. “Very well,” Inesser said. “Two of my scoutmoths will escort you to the Fortress.”
“That will be acceptable,” Cheris said. “Ajewen Cheris out.”
Miuzan had grabbed another slate and had already made the arrangements. “Scoutmoths on their way to intercept,” she said. “You don’t really intend to—?”
“We’ll treat her courteously,” Inesser said, “as far as that goes. But no, I don’t plan on letting her run around loose on the Fortress. My brother-in-law would have a fit.” She amused herself with the momentary image of Mishke’s reaction. “Prepare a security detail. We may be obliged to work with her, but that doesn’t mean we should let down our guard. And do keep her capabilities in mind. Kel Brezan may be convinced of her fundamental benevolence, but I’m skeptical.”