She thumbed off, pocketed the com, grabbed the seat back for balance as the bus braked. Florian and Catlin were right with her as she handed her way to the bus steps, with the black, foreign shape of the military craft in the right side windows.
At the same moment she stepped down onto the ground, someone was exiting the still pinging plane, one man, then a second, both in plain flight gear. She walked ahead, closing the gap, taking a look at Marine General Awei–white‑haired man in the lead, to judge by the collar, lean and not looking like a desk‑sitter. He probably had piloted his way in. The man behind him was of lesser rank, carrying nothing but a sidearm and, a good sign, not touching that. Florian and Catlin were right behind her.
Meanwhile the media had exited the flat‑roofed terminal, a moderate distance away–she was conscious of that onrushing and disorderly humanity in the tail of her eye, but her attention was all for the general, his face, his expressions. His body language exuded dignity, reserve, assessing her, assessing Florian and Catlin…not sure, possibly, exactly who she was–or maybe not sure there weren’t snipers on the terminal roof.
She walked up and held out her hand with absolute assurance. “Ariane Emory,” she said. “General Awei, is it?”
“Sera Emory.” A reciprocal gesture, a large, calloused hand that enveloped hers. The man towered over her, over Florian andCatlin. He was like a living wall, and his hand was warm and strong, force matching her force, no more than that, a sign of basic good sense. “I’m here for the three branches of the service that don’tsupport Admiral Khalid.”
Several things immediately occurred to her; that the Fleet had run Defense since the founding of Union; that Fleet leadership had produced Azov, Gorodin, Jacques, Spurlin, and Khalid, none of whom had been straightforward in their dealings with Science; and that if another branch of the armed services should seize power in that Bureau, it might upend every entrenched structure inside Defense‑as‑it‑was. A veritable earthquake.
Thathad value.
Disorder, however, and professional revenge‑taking posed another kind of hazard.
“General,” she said warmly and by now the media had gotten close, and cameras were going. “You’re certainly welcome. We just had a missile come close to our hospital.”
“No more of those,” Awei said. “A force is in Svetlansk as we speak.”
That could be good news. Or not. “Admiral Khalid has taken Planys Labs,” she said bluntly, “as of this hour.”
“And he’s there,” Awei fired right back. “And not in Novgorod. My service holds the port, the airport, the broadcast stations, andthe power grid in the capital.”
Not hollow wares, then. Bad news out of Planys, but this man had deliberately landed himself where Council was, where the media was…claiming hehad Novgorod. And, effectively, he hopedto have Reseune…at least in the political sense.
“Then you’re here to talk to Council,” she said. Shewouldn’t fall into that pit, negotiating in front of cameras, worse, being seen to usurp what Council needed to be involved in. “Urgently so, I’ll imagine. Florian. Catlin. Advise Admin; buses up the hill; tell the Councillors. Let’s go into the terminal, General, if you please; it’s a more comfortable premises.”
“My pleasure,” Awei said, and Ari aimed him and his aide and her own two right through the ranks of the media.
There were immediate questions, and cameras. One question was: “How many troops do you have. General?” Which not even a fool would answer truthfully. And, “Are you officially challenging Khalid for the seat?”
Awei stopped right there and turned a calm stare on the cameras–no fool at all, Ari thought. Nobodywho’d be maneuvered by questions like that was fit to hold office. This man was laying his life on the line to take control, and he was smart. Maybe he was a man who wouldn’t be at all safe as an ally–if the constitution didn’t make the Bureaus equal, and impose iron‑clad quorum requirements among the Nine.
And stillwatch Defense, she thought, both glad and suspicious of a new presence in the game. And she thought, too, in a sub‑basement of her mind, Let him take on Khalid. Whether he lives or dies trying, we benefit.
Awei said, in that deep, even voice, addressing the media:
“We demand that the Admiral produce Councillor Jacques, alive. We demand that Admiral Khalid answer specific questions from his own service, regarding the murder of Councillor Spurlin. One dead, one disappeared Councillor for Defense–that needs answers. We’re not hearing them, and we remind everyone Admiral Khalid has not yet been seated in Council.”
Thatwas about as blunt as it got. Awei was trying a maneuver, and making his own bid for power–doing it on Reseune soil, no less. It was certainly a nervy try; it went clear to the heart of Defense, for certain. She approved of everything she heard, and her blood moved just a little faster.
“Reseune agrees with that demand,” she said sharply, and cameras refocused on her on the instant. “As of this hour, Admiral Khalid’s forces have intruded into PlanysLabs, onto Reseune territory. Records in Planys, as of this morning, are no longer secure, or safe. Within recent months, two senior Reseune personnel are dead under questionable circumstances, one of them at Planys, one at Novgorod. Furthermore, we’ve reinvestigated the charges against Jordan Warrick. We know he was falsely blamed for the death of my predecessor, and we question whether certain records pertinent to that case will exist past this evening, in the hands of Admiral Khalid’s forces.” Therewas a capper, without claiming anything specific. Let the media digest thatone, if Awei thought he could use Reseune Airport for his own stage and not pay rent, even as a friendly. “At the moment Defense has no Councillor and no Proxy Councillor seated among the Nine; and Reseune is extremely interested in what you have to say, General.”
Kingmaker he might intend to be, silver‑haired veteran clearly on old‑fashioned rejuv. He might be backed by a sizeable and formidable division of the service–and maybe he meant to be king, himself, disregarding the constitution as freely as Khalid.
On the other hand, Awei was here. Vice Admiral Tanya Bigelow, the candidate for Defense Proxy that Reseune had backed, hadn’t taken the initiative to get up here–if Bigelow was still alive or able to move. That was a fact worth noticing. For proof of any considerable opposition to Khalid’s takeover, they had nothing but one plane and a Marine general who had yet to demonstrate what, exactly, he commanded. And if Yanni showed up in the interim, backing Bigelow or some other candidate in Defense, therewas a potential embarrassment.
But she couldn’t wait to consult anybody, and there was suddenly a momentum going, where the media was concerned. Khalid had troops inside Planys, which the media couldn’t get visuals on; and Reseune had had a missile launched at them out of Svetlansk–which they had been able to get on camera for the whole immediate universe to see. Guess which was more impressed on public awareness. Now this man came screaming in out of the blue with a challenge and an offer; and she could prime the media and shove things into motion–if nothing else, throw a momentary obstacle into Khalid’s hitherto cascading rush to power.
Kingmaker in Defense. Awei might be–or not. History was full of actions like Awei’s, and some of them died, and some of them fell, soon after.