The Primus tucked his hands into the sleeves of his tan robe. "You cannot mean to suggest Alexi Malenkov forged a new verigraph,can you?" The look of contempt on his face matched the derision in his voice.
"It is not impossible." She realized the second she'd spoken that the Primus had provoked a thoughtless outburst, and she rushed to shore it up. "There are rumors that say the NAIS has successfully managed to dissect verigraphsand put them back together."
The Precentor of New Avalon laughed heartily. "You must forgive me, but that is utterly ridiculous. The New Avalon Institute of Science has developed no such technology recently, and even if they had, it would make no difference. There is no way they could have gotten so complicated a device to an agent in the field, especially not to a mole like Alexi Malenkov."
Myndo fixed him with a razored stare. "I was unaware we had agents in the NAIS that could confirm or deny this wild assertion of yours, Precentor. Are you certain you wish to live or die on that pronouncement?"
Vandel pulled himself up to his full height. "I think, Precentor Dieron, that you grossly overstate the case. I stand by my explanation because I know it to be fact." His voice ripped back at her. "You, on the other hand, argue vapor and fairy tales."
Myndo started to reply, but the Primus raised his hand to stop her. "We know well your opinions on this subject, Precentor Dieron. Precentor Sian, do you think there was a chance that Malenkov could have forged or tampered with Xiang's verigraphto communicate information to the Federated Suns?"
"Forgery, no. There is no way he could have forged a message. This is, after all, a verigraph."The small man hesitated as he pondered the second half of the question. "As for tampering with it, that could be possible. My people reported he was nervous, but we assumed that was because he is a Davion agent. Face it. Having us refuse to take the message from him because of his true allegiance could have destroyed him."
The Primus smiled easily, his sallow flesh gathering in flat wrinkles around the corners of his mouth. "Then the solution is simple. Duplicate the verigraphand send the duplicate. If Malenkov did something to it—like injecting a chemical dye that would react to another chemical—our scanning and duplication process will not pick it up. A duplicate should take care of your concerns, shouldn't it, Precentor Dieron?"
"Should it?" Myndo balled her fists in frustration. "We don't know the genesis of this message. What if Malenkov suggested it to Xiang? What if he advised Xiang on the wording? What if he did forge a new message?"
The Primus smiled deprecatingly. "What if Malenkov had General Kerensky return and bring him a Star League-vintage verigraphforging machine?"
Myndo fumed inwardly. You bastard! You back them just to take a cut at me. Very well. You've out-maneuvered me this time, but not again."I acquiesce, Primus, and bow to your superior wisdom. You are correct. This message can do no harm—unless, of course, Malenkov did manage the impossible. As impossible as someone smuggling weapons on to our island at last year's wedding, perhaps?"
Her reminder of the previous summer's security fiasco stung all present, but Myndo realized that it also galvanized their opposition to her. She did not allow defeat to show on her face, however. I will remember this, all of you. If the impossible has occurred, I will not let up until it has destroyed every one of you.
32
New Avalon
Cruris March, Federated Suns
6 August 3029
The fear that had coiled like a snake about to strike now sunk its fangs into Hanse Davion. "Say that again, Quintus. They're going to hit Kathil?"
The spymaster nodded grimly. Color had drained from his face, leaving it half a shade darker than his white hair. The verigraphhe held in his hand trembled, as did the older man's lower lip. "He buried it well inside this note. This one paragraph is not remarkable in context, but it contains all the key words. 'A bird without wings cannot fly, but what need have we of clipping wings if we scale the cliff and fire the nest? Before this is ended, Father, I wish I could see your face one more time. We have come far, you and I, and are now just opposite sides of the same coin.' " The old man looked up from the message in his hand. "It sounds so like Justin."
Hanse sank back into his leather chair. "Kathil. Has Max gone completely over the edge? If he destroys the factories at Kathil, he'll be strangling mankind's travel between the stars."
Quintus looked up. "Forgive me, Highness, but the codeword for factories did not appear in the message. A reference to eggs would have indicated an involvement with the factories. I have to interpret 'fire the next' to mean they will hit the generators or subassembly facilities on the world itself. That would slow us down without destroying a most precious resource." Hanse frowned deeply. "What could they use to hit Kathil?"
An angry anxious expression congealed on Quintus's face. "I have to believe they'll use the best they have left. I know where McCarron's Armored Cavalry is, so it's not going to be them. The units will probably come from Sian, and that would have to mean House Imarra troops or the Death Commandos."
Hanse slammed his right fist against the top of his desk. "And we still only have militia protecting the world?"
Quintus nodded ruefully. "If Liao has been able to set up a command circuit directed at Kathil, they could be there next week. Our own force scheduled to show up there is without transport. Ever since we stripped some ships off to our rotation circuits to carry Melissa back to the Commonwealth, we've got nothing close enough to get them there."
Hanse sat and stared at his balled fists, letting the silence hang heavily in the air. The ambitions of a petty Lyran noble makes him do one thing, and that creates the potential for disaster here in the Federated Suns. The desire for little personal victories inspires this raid on Kathil, but it also got ComStar to pass this important message on to us, without realizing its importance.
Hanse swallowed hard. "Well, my friend, we'd best find any troops in the area that we can deliver posthaste. And we better pray they can stop Liao's raiders, because otherwise we'll lose everything we've won this past year and then some."
* * *
Rays from the setting sun lanced through the tall windows of Hanse Davion's office, stretching the Prince's shadow so it touched the doors to his office. The Prince, his face shadowed, looked up as Quintus Allard escorted Kym Sorenson into the room. "Thank you for coming on such short notice, Lady Sorenson."
She curtsied, then blushed. Her long blond hair was gathered back, and she wore faded trousers and an oversized shirt emblazoned with the crest of the Davion Heavy Guards. "Forgive my appearance, Highness. I came as soon as the Minister called me, I . . ."
Hanse forced a smile and raised a hand to forestall her explanation. "No need to apologize. This is a situation that calls for a swift response, not protocol or ceremony." Hanse hesitated for a moment, searching through the different ways he had thought to ask his question. He rejected all his previous ideas and waved her toward a chair. "Please, Kym, be seated."
She stiffened. "Highness, if this is about Morgan, I think I should remain standing." She tugged nervously on the ends of her shirt, pulling it tight at the shoulders.