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"Aiiiiyah," J'hsen exclaimed, frowning almost wild-eyed at the Koltrop on her desk screen. "Please, please, please tell me I did not just hear that the assassination may have been Inquisitorial work."
"'Fraid so, ma'am," G't'zazz replied, "but at least we know for certain that we're not working for the aggressor side."
"Not directly, at least, but the Inquisition is supporting Imcedi... what madness is this? What motivation is there?" The distraught human leaned over her desk, running her moderately close-cropped hair through her long, lean fingers as she rested her elbows on her desk. "The Concordat is now a number-one pain in my side, Director. What can we do about it?"
"Well," the bug began, twiddling his minor antennae in thought, "I've always pondered the result of an outright covert operative war against the Inquisition. There's a lot more of them than us, and they've got home-court advantage. The fact that they also plugged the Alpha agent who found this little tidbit out lets them know that they're onto us... and they are a source of at least some information to GLAIVE."
"So we don't do anything different from now."
"Not intelligence-wise at least, ma'am. If we start even mildly sabotaging the Inquisition's efforts I have a feeling what little support we do have in the Concordat will dry up like acetone in the desert."
The Supreme Emperor nodded slightly. "Still, look into options, and call me back when you have good news."
"Will do, ma'am."
Chreeti frowned at the holo-image projecting its ghostly nonexistence into her office-cell. "I understand your tendency towards the theatric, Sister, but I believe this was a bit much."
Sister 'Cloud-Day' simply smiled slightly back. "Your Eminence, by that time they already had the evidence that they seeked."
"They did not know about our involvement." The Grand Inquisitor felt a passionately burning anger begin to rise in her chest. "They did not need to know about our involvement."
"What can they do, Your Eminence? So they became involved--that was not planned--but still they and the unholy reptile scourge balance each other out. Unfortunately, they balance each other out across a quarter of our galaxy, but at least while they fight each other they are too busy to damage our worlds more than has already been done."
"True. Neither one can pull out without ceding a great deal of resources to the other, something they cannot afford. Their best interests coincide with our needs." The anger begun to subside, replaced with calculation.
"All that matters is to keep them fighting, Your Eminence."
"All that matters. True. Still, next time... show somewhat more discretion, Sister."
Cloud-Day smiled. Like a harp. "Of course, Your Eminence."
"Have they fallen apart yet?"
Captain Kordont shook his head mildly. "Doesn't seem like it, sir. I'm neither reading massive jump signatures indicative of a rout or the sporadic, chaotic jumps we usually see when subsidiary commanders try to exercise initiative they're not used to. In fact, all seems quiet at the moment."
Phillip frowned, resting his hands on his chin as he stares at the strategic indicator board. "Thoughts, Ri?"
Ka-Ri scratched behind one ear. "They are either hunkering down because they have lost command and control... or, possibly, because they are stunned."
"Stunned?"
"Shaken. Not a complete loss of command and control... imagine us if the line of command succession was known but it was uncertain where it stood. Someone is in command, it just isn't known who exactly is."
"Hmmm." The fleet admiral tapped his fingers together. "That might just make sense. Val, anything out of the ordinary in those sensor logs?"
"Checking." The sable-plated Volanti watched two scrolling screens of data at once, picking out a few lines that looked interesting. "I'm not entirely sure... but it's quite possible."
"What?"
"Looks like there was a shuttle transfer right after we jumped insystem. A lighter left a BC, went to the BB, then back to the BC."
Nibnumber groaned. "The bastard escaped. Now they're just biding their time to rebuild command." Grimacing, he threw himself back into his utilitarian seat. "Well, that kills the hunter-killer plan. It'll just wear us out, and I think they know that we'll whack whatever superbat sigs we see if we keep it up. They've got... what... one and a half of those left?"
"At most." Val nodded curtly. "We did manage to destroy that last one, and we critically damaged one here at the shipyards before it escaped. I'd say it's more reasonable to call it one and a quarter."
"We'll round up the estimate to two just to be safe," Phillip grumbled. "Anyway... new proposal. How long do you think it would take to set up some stealthed defense drones?"
"Hrrr..." Ka-Ri rubbed his chin. "Depends how thickly you want the defensive network distributed."
"Well, my idea is simple enough. We set up enough stealthed missile-mines and blazer-heads all around the shipyards and planet to at least hold off any attack. What we do is take our fully combat-ready vessels and attack, in force, what small yet appreciable concentrations of force strength we can find. We work to destroy the enemy in detail. The risk is that they could immediately drop into this system with everything they have, but if they're staggering... we can use the fact that our opposing General-Officer is alive. It's not in the Reaver M.O. to make decisions when the commander is still operational. Right now would be an excellent time for them to sieze the initiative because our M.O. is traditionally conservative. They know that we're licking our wounds and yet they're not trying to press us by providing more targets at random intervals, inviting us to reach out with just enough and expend our strength further. It's the last thing they'd expect."
"What keeps us from stepping into another nest, though?" the rear admiral asked.
"Scout probes," Val said simply.
"That will kill the element of surprise," the Kzroth replied with a frown.
"Not if we canvas every single system they have simultaneously."
Ka-Ri nodded appreciatively. "Ah. I see. I'll order the crews to load up the cruise missile tubes with scout probes, then."
A few minutes later, Commander Fremount cleared her throat with a slight frown. "Info from the Hiss, sir. You're not going to like it."
As predicted, Nibnumber didn't.
Even if it was something less than real, the tea was excellent. It was curious, the persona that the light cruiser Brisbane built for herself, now that there was time to simply study silently. Her face was perhaps on the old-side of middle aged, that point where the hair is grey before it becomes sparse, wrinkles highlighting the contours of the face before they dominate it. It seemed to be a severe visage, accustomed to command of a fashion and quite aristocratic in that regard, eyes of steel and muscles of iron that moved the face from one stone-set expression to another--or, at least, that was the persona she had in mind while on duty. Off duty (at least, off-duty in my terms; she never rested), it softened somewhat, almost imperceptably. She was smiling gently now, not exactly happy, perhaps wistful as she watched the branches of the trees sway in the overcast winds.
"It actually is quite comforting that you are willing to spend your free time with me, Shal," she said, breaking the long silence, "and I am quite appreciative."
I nodded slightly. "I'm honored for the chance, as I understand it to be rare... something on your mind?"
She laughed gently at that, shaking her head in amusement. "Oh, always. Right now I would say two things: That this is an ironically amusing, albeit deadly serious, situation we find ourselves in and that the Fleet Admiral is a nice man." She was sure to capitalize the rank; I discovered that she was very status-conscious that way.
"Irony is certainly in the forefront of my mind," I replied, "just look at me. Diplomatic Officer Shal Sovinto, envoy to inner space and combat sensors technician."
That elicited another laugh. "And I, the starship, once-queen of defensive fleets now mildly chatting with the same Shal Sovinto over tea in unreality. It gets better, however."
"Oh?"
"Oh, yes. I have just heard the most interesting bit of gossip from the mind of Ares. I will have to invite her over sometime... anyways, it appears that the Hiss has discovered a most interesting bit of trivia concerning our mission."
I set my teacup down. "Now you're just building suspense."
"I am. It appears that the death of the Holy Great Exalted Grand Poobah Pill Dispenser and Master Cleric Teo'logo is the dastardly deed of other Thaurians. Before you declaim the obvious nature of that statement, I must continue that those Thaurians of which I speak belong to two parties: one of which is, if not obvious, at least expected; the other most delightfully surprising and ironic, to say the least."
"So... whodunit?"
"Well, intelligence indicates that the money for the deed came from house Garbog."
"Okay... mildly surprising as he didn't take the Dais, but I can see how he could've used it as a ploy to make Imcedi look bad by doing so. The other?"
"The actual mechanism of wealth transfer, and perhaps a good deal of the actual logistical planning, was care of the Inquisition."
I blinked.
"Isn't it amusing?" 'Bane grins impishly. "You see, we're involved in an internally-orchestrated coup that was supposed to happen according to the closest thing this boondocks 'empire' has to a legitimate central authority. It's my guess that--and the rest of the ships in GLAIVE tend to agree--we were never supposed to get involved in the first place."
I could only blink again.
"I've seen this kind of thing before, you see. We know the Thaurians had a hard time with the Reavers until we came along. Then we and the Reavers had it out for five hundred years, leaving the Concordat more or less alone. We balanced their opposition equation for them, leaving them free to do essentially as they wished without intervention."
"So you're thinking that..." The white tint that must've been in my eyes slowly began to fade.
"Someone failed to read the script, or they decided to ad lib a portion," the starship chuckled. "Either way, the joke's on us, as they say."
Pikbuuv could hardly be so blithe about it, although he could have understood the sentiments involved.
Now all was well... sort of. The simple matter was that he was alive, the Zoners had failed in their attempt to assassinate him, and they lacked the strength to attack and defend at the same time. If he simply waited for them to try another foolish attack, he could hit them there as well. Perhaps to set up another ambush with a battleship as bait...
"Sir," the executive offered, looking in from the door, "there's a small jump-wash signature at the edge of the system."
Pikbuuv looked up with a start; they couldn't be trying again so soon. Couldn't have found him again so soon. "What?"
"We're getting reports from all our squadrons that it's happening all across our current positions. Mass is only around six fifteens and ten tons per."
"Drones?"
"Seems like. Not hostile."
Pikbuuv laughed quietly with a dry mouth. "They cannot attack us over all that. Just shift some forces around to keep them guessing, and try to minimize emissions from those that stay."
For some reason, the idea of just abandoning those positions just never occured to him.