“I’m told,” he said very gently, “that you have a message for me, Miss ben Ruben.”
She nodded. “It’s in here.” She handed him a thick pouch. Her voice was a hair-raising rasp, like dead fingernails on slate. “Commodore Oroton asked me to put it in your hand, sir, and no other.”
Sheila Brisbane, eyes glittering with anger of her own, glanced at Yalena’s father for permission, then peered over his shoulder as he opened the sealed pouch and began sorting through its contents. Her father whistled softly. “Mr. Tathagata,” he glanced up at one of the suited bureaucrats, “I think you will find these very interesting, indeed. The good commodore has laid hands on the kind of evidence you need to make our little proposition official.”
Mr. Tathagata took the documents and glanced through them. Then said softly, “Oh, yes. These are, indeed, what we have needed. Mr. Girishanda,” he glanced at the other suited bureaucrat, “my compliments on a mission exceedingly well done.” He then turned with a grave demeanor to the girl with the ruined face. “Miss ben Ruben, you cannot know how grateful the government of Vishnu is. Your testimony, added to these documents, is sufficient evidence to involve ourselves on your behalf. We had no idea,” he added, voice shaking with reaction, “that they were committing wholesale genocide.”
Yalena caught her breath sharply. Genocide?
“You’re going to stop it?” Miss ben Ruben asked.
Mr. Tathagata glanced at Yalena’s father before answering. “That’s the idea, yes.” He then turned, surprisingly, to Yalena, herself. “Miss Khrustinova, how many students, precisely, have joined your freedom network?”
Dismay skittered along Yalena’s nerves. “How did you know about that?” she squeaked.
He almost smiled. Almost. “I am with the Ministry of Defense, Miss Khrustinova. Hostilities between Granger students and those loyal to POPPA have been far too volatile to risk ignoring the situation. Tonight’s riot was surprising only because it didn’t occur much sooner. We have been aware of your group and its activities for quite some time. Your cause is a worthy one, although your methods,” he added with another faint smile, eying her scandalous dress, “are somewhat unorthodox.”
Heat scalded Yalena’s cheeks. “When you’re working an espionage gig, plying spacers with drinks and persuading them to tell you what they’ve seen, you have to wear the right camouflage. This,” she indicated the clinging wisp wrapped around her curves, “is just a uniform.”
She was speaking to Mr. Tathagata, but watching her father.
It was her father who answered. “A damned effective one, too. But you’ll need a different one, if you plan to go back.”
“Go — back?” Her heart thudded so hard, it hurt.
“Oh, yes. Your cousin and I have already spoken.” His gaze flicked to Estevao Soteris. “We’ll be outfitting the combat veterans coming in, as part of a strike force. Your student group — which I did not know about, you devious little fire eater — will also play a role, if you’re interested. Deputy Minister Tathagata has agreed to spend the next couple of days overseeing additional preparations.”
“We’re going to invade? With Vishnu’s help?” She didn’t believe it. She glanced from Tathagata to Sheila Brisbane. “Is the Brigade involved in this, too?”
“Not directly,” Captain Brisbane said. “Nor officially. Not yet, anyway. That may change, depending on the way events unfold.”
“How are we going in?” she asked, returning her gaze to her father. “The Bolo would shoot us to pieces before we could even land a strike force.”
“Yes, he probably would,” her father agreed, “if we were landing a hostile strike force. But we have something a little different in mind. Sonny’s been damaged. Badly, as it happens.”
“By the resistance?” Yalena asked sharply. “Commodore Oroton?”
Her father’s eyes reflected sudden pain. “Yes,” he said in a hoarse voice full of dread. “Commodore Oroton…” He drew a rasping breath. “Oh, hell,” he swore suddenly, “there’s no easy way to say it. Commodore Oroton is your mother.”
His words slammed through her like live electrical current. The room wavered at the edges. She felt her knees turn to water and grabbed for the door jamb. “Mother?” she whispered. Yalena tried to focus her gaze, but the room remained a blur. “She’s… alive?”
Misery burned in her father’s voice. “Yes.”
Her emotions were exploding out of control, grief and joy and tearing anguish for the time lost and the terrible burden of guilt she had carried for so many years. The pain of her father’s lie tore great gashes through her heart, making it hard to breathe.
“Yalena,” he said, “please try to understand—”
She put her whole weight behind the punch. “You sorry-assed son-of-a-bitch!”
He staggered. Then blotted the blood from his nose. He said nothing.
Yalena stood shaking in the middle of the floor, eyes hot, throat tight, fist aching all the way to her shoulder, where the blow had connected. She hated him for the agonizing years behind that lie — and hated herself far more, for making the lie necessary. She finally lifted drowned eyes, feeling like a battered and unlovable toad, forced herself to meet his gaze. What she saw made her insides flinch. The hellfire shadows of Etaine burned in his eyes, worse than she had ever seen them.
She had put that look in his eyes. Her insides flinched from that, too.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she whispered. Then broke down into helpless, wrenching sobs. His arms came around her and she dissolved against his shoulder. When the worst of the storm had passed, she gulped and regained control of her voice, although it wavered unsteadily. “Daddy?”
“Yes?” He didn’t sound angry.
“How soon can we leave?”
He tipped her face up, peered into her eyes. The shadows had retreated, leaving his eyes warm and human, again. “That’s my girl,” he smiled. “As to that, as soon as possible. We have to wait for Mr. Tathagata’s people to arrange for the technicians, the spare parts, and the munitions Santorini ordered from Shiva Weapons Labs. If Shiva can expedite the order, it might be as soon as a week.”
“All right. We’ll have to do something about classes…”
Mr. Tathagata spoke up. “We’ll speak to the university officials on behalf of anyone in your group who wants to go. We’ll arrange for the professors to grant approved incompletions for the classes and we’ll be sure the registrar grants permission to interrupt studies without loss of academic standing or admission status. If necessary, my ministry will pay tuition fees for completing this semester’s work at some future date. I’m well aware of the financial standing of most Granger students. Your volunteers will need that kind of financial help, if most of you hope to finish school.”
“Why would you do that?” Yalena asked, genuinely puzzled.
“I’m taking the long view and considering it as part of Vishnu and Mali’s defense plan. POPPA must be destroyed, but your freedom fighters will have to do a good bit more than win this fight, Miss Khrustinova. You’ll also have to rebuild your homeworld’s economy, your education system, everything that POPPA’s tampered with or destroyed. Jefferson and Vishnu and Mali need one another, financially and militarily. If Jefferson collapses into barbarism, it will damage us in ways we’d really rather avoid.”
“I see. Yes.” She cleared her throat. “Thank you, sir. That will mean a great deal to us. All right, I’ll tell everyone to start packing.” When she glanced into her father’s eyes, saw not only approval, but also dawning pride, an emotion that blazed like a glint of sunlight on quicksilver. For the first time, Yalena felt like she just might earn the right to say, I’m Simon Khrustinov’s daughter. And Kafari Khrustinova’s.