Togo blinked. “I… understand, Madam President. My apologies for underestimating your subtlety and cunning.”
“You’re a lucky man,” Iceni told him. “Most of the people who learned not to underestimate me found out their error too late to save themselves. Tell the police to move ahead on busting the black-market operation. I want to see how that is handled under the changes to the legal system. After that, stop by the finance directorate and inform them that, if there is any further delay in approving payments for those freighter modifications, I will choose some executives from the directorate at random to accompany General Drakon’s ground forces during their assault. I’m sure the general can use a few special volunteers to spearhead his attacks.”
Colonel Roh Morgan, wearing the suit of a junior executive fifth class in the Syndicate ground forces, sat nursing a drink in one of the Junior Executive Break Networking Universal Training Personal Improvement Limited Refreshment Facilities inside the primary ground forces base on Ulindi. Like any Syndicate-designed military base, it was heavily fortified, prepared to withstand attack not only from the Alliance but also from the citizens of the planet if those citizens should be so foolish as to stage a rebellion. That had made it a little harder for Morgan to infiltrate, but with the snakes and other security forces combing the city itself for her, no one had spent much time checking the identification documents of a nondescript junior executive who was entering the base.
While Syndicate bureaucrats had over the decades added on one after another officially approved descriptive terms for what was essentially a blandly decorated bar that could also be used as a meeting room, those bureaucrats had adamantly refused to add on a single comma to the name. Since no one who actually used the facilities used the official name, instead just calling it the Jebnut, nobody actually worried about the odd lack of commas.
Jebnuts tended to be inadequately lighted, because the Syndicate used the terms “efficiently” and “cost-effective” where others might have thought “insufficiently” and “least-expensive” were the more appropriate words. However, the dim lighting suited junior executives who wanted to nap during mandatory “voluntary,” “informal” training sessions, and now suited Morgan well as she did her best to fade into the background. No one was likely to take notice of one more junior executive of the lowest salary grade who had no visible distinguishing characteristics. Morgan had taken a table against a wall and was once again wearing a combination of makeup and small facial prosthetics that combined with a slightly-too-large version of the standard junior executive fifth class suit rendered her appearance completely unremarkable. Having dealt with countless come-ons in bars and restaurants, Morgan had also perfected the ability to generate a “leave me alone” aura that effectively repelled any mammalian life-form except cats.
A booth a few tables down from her was occupied by several ground forces executives on lunch break from their duties at headquarters. Morgan didn’t expect to hear any major secrets because no one with any brains spilled major secrets in a Syndicate facility that was surely being monitored by the snakes, but a lot could be learned from routine talk among people who dealt with so many classified items that they no longer could tell what really mattered.
“It’s off-limits,” one of them was telling the others. “Sealed off.”
“Any idea why? We don’t have people deployed to that training area,” another asked.
“Maybe the… you know… security. Maybe they’re using it.”
“The Supreme CEO’s people? Maybe.”
“Then maybe we better talk about something else.”
There was a pause, then someone else started talking. “Did you hear about the comm stand-down? If you’ve got anything that needs to go out, better get it sent.”
“Stand-down? What are they standing down?”
“Everything. There’s some check of systems going to be carried out looking for unauthorized taps and security effectiveness and all that junk. It’s no secret. But everything will be silenced for seventy-two hours. Landlines, networks, over-the-air junk, everything.”
“How the hell are we supposed to get anything done during those seventy-two hours?”
“Does this mean I’ll have to talk to the people at the desks near me? I hope not.”
“They’re probably hoping the same thing.”
“Seriously, this isn’t some investigation? It’s just a complete comm-system check?”
“That’s the official word. They wanted a period of time when everything was quiet before they ran the check, so this means they’re not expecting any trouble during those seventy-two hours.”
“They better get all of those shuttle drills done by then.”
“Those still going on?”
“Yeah. Every shuttle is out at dispersed landing locations doing recertification drills. They got them going up into low orbit and down again all night long.”
“Maybe they’re running them that hard to get the drills done before the comm stand-down.”
“Yeah.”
Another pause, then a voice pitched lower than before. “My boss said to be ready for some deployments.”
“Deployments? Where? I thought CEO— I mean, the Supreme CEO only controlled this star system.”
“For now.”
“Could that be what the shuttle drills are about? Getting ready for combat drops?”
“Guys, shut the hell up. If it is, we shouldn’t be talking.”
“Yeah, especially now, what with…”
Another pause.
“It’s always been bad, but—”
“Shut up.”
“You must have heard about Jarulzki—”
“Shut up!”
Silence fell, a quiet that Morgan knew would last this time. She wondered what, if anything, the unfortunate Jarulzki had done. If the high rate of arrests among the citizens was any indicator, the snakes would also have been raking in for questioning higher than usual numbers of military personnel.
But the talk of a sealed-off training area was something new. And an upcoming comm moratorium. And intense shuttle training. Was Haris getting ready to launch an attack on another star system, or was this entirely related to internal security at Ulindi?
There was only one way to find out.
Given the time since she had left Midway, and the time required to assemble an assault force, Morgan guessed that General Drakon and his forces should arrive in Ulindi within the next few days. That left time to check on this information and ensure that it wasn’t anything the general would need to worry about during his conquest of Ulindi.
As Morgan made her way back out of the base, she spent some time considering who Drakon would be bringing. The entire division? Maybe. That would give her a chance to check on what Rogero was up to. Why Drakon had kept him and Gaiene in their command positions baffled her. Gaiene was bad enough, half-drunk half the time, but at least (unlike Rogero) his sleeping partners were harmless. Rogero, though, with his Alliance girlfriend, was another matter. He had also shown far too much interest in working closely with that Iceni woman. Was Rogero selling out to the Alliance, or to Iceni, or playing both to see who coughed up the best deal?
And Malin. That little slime would be up to something, too. Maybe here at Ulindi, his luck would finally run out. If there was only some way to nail him herself in such a manner that the general couldn’t possibly trace it back to her. But she had far too much respect for Drakon to assume he would not be able to track an assassination of Malin to its source.
Well, Haris’s forces might do the job for her.
The only thing she couldn’t understand, given the loathing she had felt for Malin since first meeting him, was why the thought of him dead caused any kind of mixed emotions in her.