“You have a solution to that, don’t you?” Brezan said, giving Mikodez a hard look. “Because it hasn’t escaped my attention that the Shuos are the only faction who have made it out of this whole disaster intact.”
“Very good,” Mikodez said. “There may be some hope for you after all. Yes, I’m offering the services of the Shuos. We have most of the Kel listening posts bugged anyway as a precaution.”
Precaution my ass, Brezan thought, but he didn’t interrupt.
“With your leave, High General, we could perform the function that Kel Command used to. I already have a bunch of analysts hanging around here doing this work anyway.”
The fact the Mikodez had suddenly resumed addressing Brezan by his erstwhile title didn’t escape him. Perhaps Mikodez fancied himself a puppet-master; thought that crashhawks were easily manipulated. Brezan hoped to prove him wrong, not out of spite, but because interstellar government was too important to hand over out of naivety. While Brezan didn’t have much leverage at the moment, he could do something with the fact that Mikodez had just made himself almost as notorious as Jedao.
“I accept,” Brezan said, because he wanted to preserve the idea that he had choices. “So what’s the third problem?”
Mikodez fiddled with an earring, the first sign of nerves he’d shown. “One of the hexarchs isn’t dead.”
Brezan frowned. “Cheris’s—sources were convinced that you were the only one who’d gotten away.” How much did Mikodez know about the servitors’ role as spies, anyway? “Another double?”
“No,” Mikodez said after a long moment. “It wasn’t a double. Not in the way you’re thinking.”
“Do tell.”
“Nirai Faian was a false hexarch,” Mikodez said. “Something like a senior administrator, while the real hexarch went about his business elsewhere.”
“Sounds paranoid,” Brezan said. “Do we need to assassinate the real one, then?” He meant it as a joke.
He should have known not to joke about assassination around a Shuos. “I’ve been trying to figure out how since I learned of his existence,” Mikodez said seriously. “His name is Nirai Kujen. You won’t have heard of him”—Brezan made an assenting gesture—“but in a way, everything you know depends on him. He invented the modern mothdrive almost nine centuries ago. The high calendar is his creation. And so is the black cradle.”
Brezan stared at Mikodez, appalled. But his mind was already racing. “Immortal, then,” he said. “Like Jedao.”
“Like Jedao,” Mikodez said, “except without some of the limitations that made it possible to control Jedao. Well, to the extent that Jedao was ever controllable, which is an open question. But that argument is moot.”
“Is he a danger to you?” Brezan said. Because he could think of only one reason why someone like Mikodez would care.
“He’s a danger to everyone.”
“Nine hundred years, you say, and he’s not the one who exploded the hexarchate. If he invented the mothdrive—”
Mikodez shook his head. “Kujen has always been good at buying people’s favor. Don’t get drawn in. He’s brilliant, but the hexarchate is a big place. Even if revolutions aren’t friendly to research divisions, you’ll eventually be able to find other technicians who can offer useful innovations without requiring you to sell your conscience down the river.”
Brezan couldn’t help it. He choked with laughter. “I’m sorry,” he said when he was done, “a Shuos hexarch with a conscience?”
“Oh, I don’t have any such thing,” Mikodez said, taking Brezan’s outburst calmly. “But it’s clear that you do. And you’re going to be the face of the operation.”
“Why haven’t I heard of this Kujen before now, anyway?”
“Because he’s a secretive bastard,” Mikodez said. “If you think about it, that’s a great way to survive when you’re almost a millennium old. Bravery has never been Kujen’s strong point, which he himself would be the first to admit. Here—”
The terminal indicated that it had received a databurst from Mikodez. Brezan opened up the profile contained therein. Nirai Kujen: not just a secretive bastard, but an extraordinarily handsome one. A note cautioned him not to take physical appearances too literally, since, like Jedao, Kujen was a ghost who possessed different bodies as the occasion suited him. Fortunately, the profile also included data on movement patterns, which were much more reliable. As a former Personnel officer, Brezan had a lot of experience looking for nuances in body language.
“So you’re saying he engineered the remembrances into the high calendar on purpose?” Brezan said, not bothering to hide his repugnance. “What evidence do you have for this?”
Mikodez shrugged. “He told me so. Check the file. I recorded that whole conversation, but I’ve had the whole thing transcribed with timestamps of the key bits so you don’t have to sit through it all.”
“How considerate of you.”
“Don’t thank me, thank my staff.” Mikodez tapped his fingers against something just out of sight. “I have reason to believe that Kujen is personally attached to the hexarchate as it used to be. He dropped out of sight just before that business at the Fortress of Spinshot Coins, almost as if he knew which way the wind was blowing. I don’t like that, and I don’t like the fact that I don’t know what he’s up to.”
“You were colleagues for decades,” Brezan said slowly. “You couldn’t do anything about him earlier?”
Mikodez’s smile was self-mocking. “What, like oust him? I’m a bureaucrat, not a genius mathematician. You were probably too young to remember, but I was in my twenties when I took the seat. At the time my life expectancy was measured in days, and the Shuos were extremely weak after the previous leadership squandered resources in useless petty squabbles with the Andan and Vidona. I wasn’t spoiling for a fight, and Kujen happened to agree with me about the value of stability.”
It was the second time this conversation Mikodez had mentioned the word. Brezan didn’t think that was a coincidence. He didn’t harbor any illusions that he could challenge Mikodez in his own seat of power, but he didn’t intend to become a mere puppet for the man, either.
“I’ll read through the file,” Brezan said. “But the immediate problem is the first one: keeping the hexarchate from exploding. I’ll work with you on that. If you get more information on Kujen’s whereabouts and latest hobbies, we can discuss those then.”
“Fair enough.” Mikodez pursed his lips. “One thing more.”
“Oh?”
“You need to disentangle yourself from Khiruev’s swarm as soon as possible,” Mikodez said. “For one thing, you’re going to be needing it to put out fires, and to form the core of the new government’s forces. You don’t want to be on the front lines. You’re too important for that now.”
Brezan gave him a disbelieving look.
“You’re used to thinking of yourself as no one very important. I can tell. Modesty is going to have to become a thing of the past, I’m afraid.”
“My sisters would be laughing their asses off hearing you call me ‘modest,’” Brezan said.
“I’m quite serious,” Mikodez said. “Half of leadership is prancing around looking like you know what you’re doing, whether or not you actually do. The other half, well, that’s what allies and delegation to gifted subordinates are for. Might I make a recommendation while I’m at it?”
“I don’t think I can stop you.”