“Sir Aivars,” she said, speaking a bit more formally than usual herself.
“Admiral Gold Peak,” he replied, shaking her hand firmly. “Thank you for agreeing to see us so promptly, especially under such unusual circumstances.”
“Ah, yes. ‘Unusual,’” she repeated. “That does seem an appropriate adjective. And this”—she transferred her gaze to the civilian at Terekhov’s side without extending her hand—“must be the mysterious Mr. Ankenbrandt.”
“Yes, Admiral.” Ankenbrandt gave her a small bow.
He was one of the most unmemorable people Michelle had ever seen: well dressed and well groomed, but with an almost mousy look. The sort who was obviously a numbers kind of person, a master of the internal dynamics of a corporate office, perhaps, but not the kind who got out much.
That was her first thought, but then her eyes narrowed slightly. According to Terekhov’s briefing, Michael Ankenbrandt hadn’t known a thing about her before the commodore agreed to get him in to see her. He hadn’t even known the Manticoran fleet commander’s name, much less who she was related to. Yet even though he was obviously more than a little nervous, he was also composed. There was anxiety in his eyes, perhaps, but not a trace of panic.
“So what can I do for you, Mr. Ankenbrandt?” she inquired, pointing at the pair of chairs arranged to face her desk.
She glanced up at Billingsley and nodded in dismissal while her guests sat. The steward gave her a grumpy look—obviously, he didn’t much care for the thought of leaving her with a stranger in an age of nanotech assassinations—but he didn’t argue. He did exchange a speaking look with Master Sergeant Cognasso before he withdrew with what he probably thought was reasonable gracefulness, however.
Michelle did her best to ignore the exchange, although her lips twitched ever so slightly as she gazed at Ankenbrandt attentively.
“The situation’s a bit…awkward, Countess Gold Peak,” the civilian said after a moment. “To be frank, when I left Mobius, no one had any idea there might be a fleet presence this powerful at Montana. This was supposed to be just an intermediate stop on my way to Spindle and Baroness Medusa.”
Despite herself, Michelle’s eyebrows rose, and he shook his head.
“As I said, it’s awkward. Under the circumstances, though, I felt I had no choice but to dust off one of the optional plans I was given when I left.”
“Optional plans?” Michelle repeated.
“The people I represent have been in communication with the Star Empire for some time now, Admiral,” Ankenbrandt said levelly. “It’s been an indirect communication, through some fairly roundabout conduits, and I don’t know whether or not you’ve been briefed on it from Manticore’s end.”
His rising tone made the last statement a question, and Michelle shook her head.
“To be honest, Mr. Ankenbrandt, what I know about the Mobius System is minute, to say the very least. And nobody in Spindle—or anywhere else—has briefed me on anything where the system’s concerned.”
“I was afraid that would be the case.” Ankenbrandt sighed. “I hoped I might be wrong, though.”
“Why?” Michelle asked bluntly.
“Because I’m afraid time is running out for Mobius,” Ankenbrandt replied flatly. “If you’d been briefed, you might be prepared to do something about that. Since you haven’t been…”
His voice trailed off, and he shrugged heavily.
Michelle looked at him for a moment, then glanced at her desktop display. It was set to mirror mode, showing the reflections of Master Sergeant Cognasso and Alfredo, and she reached out to fiddle with a crystal paperweight engraved with the hull number of her first hyper-capable command. An instant later, Alfredo casually laid his left true-hand on Cognasso’s head.
So whatever else is going on, this fellow at least thinks he’s telling us the truth, she thought. Which is all just as mysterious as hell, isn’t it, Mike? Oh, the joys of senior flag rank!
“No, I haven’t been briefed,” she said calmly, tipping her chair back and resting her elbows on its arms so she could steeple her fingers under her chin. “If you’d care to tell me what’s going on, though, I’m more than willing to listen. Whether I’ll be prepared to believe you, or to act on whatever you have to say, is another matter, of course. So, on that basis, is there something you’d care to tell me about?”
* * *
“I’m sorry, Milady, but that’s got to be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard of,” Aploloniá Munming said some hours later. Then she seemed to realize what she’d just said and shook her head. “Scratch that. We’ve been hearing some pretty damned ridiculous things generally over the last few months, and it seems an appalling number of them are more accurate than we’d like. So let’s just say I find this Ankenbrandt’s story a bit difficult to accept.”
“I’d put it a bit more strongly than that, myself, Admiral Gold Peak,” Rear Admiral Mickaël Ruddock said.
The red-haired, blue-eyed Ruddock commanded the second division of Munming’s superdreadnought squadron, and he was even more bluntly spoken (if possible) then Munming, Michelle reflected. That could be because he was on the smallish side and felt a little defensive about his lack of centimeters. Or, even more likely, it could be because he was a Gryphon highlander…and on the smallish side.
“I’d be inclined t’ go along with Admiral Munming and Admiral Ruddock,” Michael Oversteegen mused out loud, “if Alfredo and Master Sergeant Cognasso hadn’t vouched for him.”
“I thought the same thing,” Michelle admitted, sipping from the steaming mug of coffee Billingsley had deposited on the briefing room table at her elbow. “But Alfredo does vouch for him. Whatever else he may have been doing, he wasn’t lying. And Alfredo also confirms that his anxiety over what’s going on in Mobius is genuine.” She shrugged. “However bizarre it sounds, Ankenbrandt really is playing messenger for a bunch of people who’ve been—or who think they’ve been, anyway—in contact with and receiving clandestine support from the Star Empire.”
“Forgive me, Ma’am,” Cynthia Lecter said, “but that’s crazy. I mean, from the timetable he’s described, they’ve been in contact with us since before Commodore Terekhov even sailed for Monica.” She nodded respectfully in Terekhov’s direction without ever looking away from Michelle. “We had absolutely no interest in this region at that point. Why in God’s name would we have been making clandestine contacts with a resistance movement directed at Frontier Security?”
“Now, now, Cindy,” Michelle corrected, waving an index finger gently. “It’s not a resistance movement against OFS. It’s a resistance movement against this President Lombroso. He’s just an OFS lackey, not the real thing, like they have in Madras.”
“That doesn’t change my point, Ma’am,” Lecter replied with a certain respectful asperity. “It would still have been an incredibly foolish, risky, ultimately pointless thing for us to have done. And if we had been doing anything of the sort, and if Baroness Medusa really knew about it, do you think she would’ve sent us out here without at least mentioning it to you?”
“No, Cindy, I don’t,” Michelle said calmly. “That doesn’t mean they haven’t been in contact with somebody, though. And it doesn’t mean they don’t believe it’s Manticore they’ve been talking to.”
“But…what would be the point?” Lecter asked almost plaintively.