“This complicates matters,” repeated the first man. “We’re not ready…”
“Oh, we’re ready.” The second man laughed humourlessly. “If this is all true, we’re ready right now.”
The first man was about to reply when he half turned and saw Katya hovering around. “What do you want?” he demanded.
Katya’s eyes widened. She’d had her lie all prepared, that she was carrying a message from Mila Vetskya for the attention of Major Moltsyn and had been told to find him here. In the heat of the moment, the lie melted.
“I, uh… a message. I have a message for the atten… from Vetskya… Mila Vetskya for… for the attention of…” The major’s name vanished entirely from her mind. She could see his face, hear his voice, even remember how his disdain for her borrowed FMA uniform had made her flush with anger, but she could not, could not, remember his name. She looked at the men, both of who had turned towards her now, their frowns deepening.
“For the attention of whom?” snapped the second man.
“For… the attention of…” She flailed for the name as it flickered around her memory, grabbed something and blurted it out. “The Chertovka!”
For a horrible moment, they both just looked at her as if she’d opened her mouth and a spline squid had fallen out. Then the first man roared at her, “How dare you refer to a superior using that word, girl? Colonel Tasya Morevna is a valued officer and a model of loyalty to the Conclaves. She’s worth a hundred worms like you, you insubordinate wretch!”
“I’m… I’m sorry…” Katya stumbled. Her mind was racing. Colonel? Tasya’s a Yagizban colonel? “I meant no disrespect. I just…” A new lie presented itself and, sensing saying something weak now was a better strategy than something strong later, she went with it. “It’s just… she’s a legend among… among the lower grades, sirs… that name… she scares them.” She didn’t explain who “they” were, but she didn’t think she’d need to. She was right.
“Developing a little personality cult, is she?” said the second man. He smiled wryly. “We’ve only ourselves to blame,” he said to the first man. “We’ve made the Federals fear her so much with all this ‘she-devil’ business, it’s hardly surprising that she’s becoming something of a heroine to our own people.” Then to Katya, “You’ll find the colonel in or around the holding facilities on Beta where the FMA people are being held. Go on, deliver you message, but don’t call her Chertovka to her face!” Both men were laughing as she turned and headed back towards the lifts.
“Don’t ask her for her autograph either!” the first man called as she stepped into the car and the doors closed behind her.
Katya stood mute for a moment, then told the lift car to go back to the level her room was on. As it moved off, she leaned her shoulder blades against the wall and tried to think it through.
Tasya wasn’t really a pirate. Instead she was some sort of, what? An agent provocateur? “She’s something of a heroine to our side,” the man had said. Our side? Katya had been hoping there would an innocent explanation for the new warboats she’d seen. Now she accepted with a sinking heart that there was not. Was it Tasya’s job to keep the FMA busy so they couldn’t use their limited resources to accidentally stumble upon what the Yagizba Conclaves were up to? That was part of it, she was sure, but was that all? And all the time, the Yagizbans had been building secret platforms, new aircraft — she couldn’t believe that their airfleet only contained a single submarine transporter — and those new submarines using the Vodyanoi as a template. The resources they had used to build all this must have been enormous and yet they were always starving the other settlements of supplies, citing manufacturing inefficiencies and mining difficulties.
The Yagizban were strong, the FMA was weak. She couldn’t see how the rest of the Russalkin could hope to stand against the Yagizban wolf pack. As if to punctuate her thoughts, the lift car emerged once more into the manufacturing facility and she watched with deepening dread the row of partially completed warboats. Every one of them was a mute threat against a peaceful future.
And Kane must have known every detail of this plan. Judging from what she’d overheard on the FP-1’s bridge, they might not entirely trust him but he was necessary to them. She wondered why. There were too many secrets around Havilland Kane, she thought; they followed him around like black smoke, obscuring his motivations, hiding the truth. A truth Katya knew she wouldn’t like.
This was not to ignore one last minor, trifling, unimportant little factor, of course. That given half a chance the Leviathan would kill the lot of them, Federal and Yagizban alike.
The lift compartment came to a halt and she walked out into the accommodation deck. It was as quiet as before and she saw nobody as she walked quickly but without obviously rushing to her door. A quick look around to make sure she was unobserved and she ducked inside. She could not repress a sigh of relief that she had got away with it and she leaned with her forehead against the cool plating of the door for a moment while she felt the tension drain from her.
“Enjoy your walk?” asked a voice behind her. “I’m not sure that uniform suits you, though.” She turned very slowly. Kane was sitting in a chair off to one side of the spacious stateroom. She’d missed him when she’d come in. “Then again, I don’t think that shade of yellow really suits anybody.”
Trying to look unconcerned, she walked to the bed, opened the case and took out the civilian clothes Mila had given her. As she straightened them out she asked casually, “Are you going to report me?”
“If I do, the chances are they’ll execute you. They’re very touchy about security at the moment. I’m concerned about what they may have planned for Lieutenant Petrov and his crew.”
“You’re concerned?” She tried to keep an edge of cynicism out of her voice but only partially succeeded.
If he heard it, he didn’t acknowledge it. “Yes, concerned. I’m hoping they’ll be declared prisoners of war, but as there’s no war actually on at the moment, that might be complicated. The Yagizban are sticklers for the formalities. The plan was always to declare war against the Federal Maritime Authority just before the first torpedoes struck.”
“How noble. To legitimise a sneak attack? To make themselves feel better?”
“The former, obviously. There have been similar events throughout history.”
“Earth history, you mean.” This time Katya made no attempt to take the venom out of her voice.
“Yes, Earth history. You don’t have a great deal to draw on yourselves here just yet. Just because it happened light years away and centuries ago doesn’t make it less relevant to your situation, Katya Kuriakova. History is about people and the Russalka and the Terrans are the same people. The geography may differ, but what goes on here,” he tapped his head, “and here,” he placed his hand on his heart, “is just the same.”
Katya started to say something, but the effort wasn’t worth the thin meanings her words would have carried. Instead she started to change back into the civilian clothes. She shot Kane a look and he swivelled in his chair until his back was to her. She changed quickly, intent on keeping her possession of the maser strapped to her leg secret from him. She was relieved to find the tape holding well.
As she changed, she said, “Not going so well now, though, is it? The whole question of prisoners of war is about to go out of the locks.”