colonel to be particularly impressed by a Navy citizen lieutenant commander, bridge environment or not, but it could hardly hurt. More to the point, he wanted immediate access to Howard and her console in case other questions came up... and, he admitted, exercising a soothing influence on the distracted citizen ensign seemed like a good idea, too.
He only wished someone could exercise one on him.
The standard holding pattern vanished, and Heathrow blinked at the face which had replaced it. It wasn't Therret. This man also wore StateSec uniform, but he had three stars on his shoulder boards, and Heathrow swallowed hard as he realized he was looking at Citizen General Chernock himself. The Citizen General had a dark face, a strongly hooked nose, and eyes that looked as if someone had figured out a way to carve the vacuum of deep space to order.
'Citizen Lieutenant Commander,' the sector CO said flatly, and Heathrow nodded. He knew it looked jerky, despite his effort to appear calm, but all he could do was the best he could do.
'Yes, Citizen General?' he said. 'How can I help you, Sir?'
'You can give me my goddamned mail, that's how you can help me!' Chernock growled.
'Sir, I have personally checked Citizen Ensign Howard's documentation on your message traffic—the upload logs, as well as the download logs. And every single message file logged in for you here on Danak has been delivered, Sir. We aren't privy to the contents of those files. Couriers never are, as I'm sure you're aware, so I can't say unequivocally that you received every individual message you should have. But I can tell you that no message with a Danak header is still aboard this ship.'
'I would like to believe you, Citizen Commander,' Chernock said flatly. 'But I find that very difficult to do.'
'Sir, if you could see your way to giving me even the smallest hint as to where this message might have originated, at least, then I might be able to shed some additional light on the situation. Without that, there is literally nothing I can do. And, Sir—' Heathrow drew a deep, anxious breath '—I must respectfully point out that State Security regulations pertaining to the safeguarding of classified traffic mean that I cannot give you access to any other addressee's message files.' Chernock's brow darkened thunderously, and Heathrow hurried on quickly. 'I didn't say I refused to, Sir; I said I couldn't. It's physically impossible for me or anyone else in this ship to open those files or even their directories without the addressee's authorization codes.'
'I see.' Chernock regarded him with lowered eyebrows, long, tapering fingers drumming fiercely on the edge of his own com console, then twitched his shoulders in a shrug. There might even have been an edge of grudging respect in those flat, cold eyes.
'Very well, Citizen Lieutenant Commander,' he said after an endless, thoughtful moment. 'I understand from certain other messages in your download to me that you were also scheduled for a stop at Cerberus.'
'Yes, Sir,' Heathrow said when Chernock paused. 'We went directly there from Shilo. I realize it was irregular to use a Navy courier for Cerberus, but the State Security courier who'd been supposed to report to Shilo was late, and Citizen Major General Thornegrave insisted on commandeer—er, assigning us to the duty.'
'And from Cerberus you went to Clarke, and from Clarke you came directly here?'
'Yes, Sir. I can download a copy of our astro log, if you'd care to review it.'
'That won't be necessary, Citizen Lieutenant Commander. I'm simply endeavoring to be certain I have your itinerary firmly fixed in my brain.' The citizen general smiled thinly. 'You see, the problem I'm having down here is that there should have been a message— an eyes-only, personal one—directed to me from Citizen Brigadier Tresca.'
'From Citizen Brigadier Tresca?' Heathrow blinked again, then looked at Howard. She looked back helplessly and shook her head. But he hadn't really needed that, for his own memory of their (very) brief stop at Hades was quite clear.
'Sir, there was no message from Citizen Brigadier Tresca,' he said. 'We receipted only a single transmission from Camp Charon, and it was directed to Citizen Major General Thornegrave in Shilo.'
'Are you positive about that? There couldn't have been some mistake in the routing?'
'I don't see how, Sir. It wasn't addressed specifically to Citizen Major General Thornegrave, just to 'Commanding Officer, State Security Headquarters Shilo Sector,' but the destination code was clear. That much I can pull up for your review if you wish.'
'Please do so,' Chernock said, and for the first time it actually sounded like a request.
'Make it so, Citizen Ensign,' Heathrow said quietly, and Howard complied instantly. The record was part of the information she'd already pulled together at Heathrow's instruction, and they watched together as Chernock considered it on his own com screen.
'I see,' he said after what seemed a very long time to read such a short string of letters. 'There appears to have been some confusion here, Citizen Lieutenant Commander. Do you have any idea what this message concerned?'
'None, Sir,' Heathrow said very firmly indeed. Even if he'd had any idea, admitting it would have been a very bad move. Regular Navy courier COs who waxed curious about secure StateSec communications tended to end up just plain waxed. 'All I can tell you,' he went on, trying not to sound cautious, 'is that one of the messages in the Hades queue specifically requested a response. It's SOP for the courier to be informed whenever that's the case, Sir, in order to ensure that we don't hyper out before someone groundside reads all of his or her mail and realizes a response is necessary. We aren't normally informed which message requires an answer or what that answer's content or subject might be, of course, and never when the subject is classified. In this case, however, my assumption would be that, since the only message we received from Camp Charon was coded for delivery to Shilo, Citizen Major General Thornegrave must have requested the response.'
'I see,' Chernock repeated. He gazed unreadably out of the screen for several seconds, then nodded. 'Very well, Citizen Commander. You've been most responsive. I believe that will be all... for the moment.'
He added the final qualifier almost absently, as if the need to intimidate regular officers was so deeply ingrained it had become reflex, and Heathrow nodded.
'Of course, Sir. If I can help in any other way, please let me know.'
'I will,' Chernock assured him, and cut the circuit.
'My God,' Justin Bouret said fervently from where he'd lurked outside the pickup's range. 'I thought for a while they were going to come up here and demand to take the message banks apart!'
'Wouldn't have done them any good, and Citizen General Chernock knew it,' Heathrow said in an oddly detached tone. He felt the tremors of relief tingling in his fingertips and toes and raised one hand to mop sweat from his forehead without even trying to conceal it from his subordinates. 'Even if they did take the banks apart, they couldn't make any sense of them,' the citizen lieutenant commander went on. 'Unless they have either Shilo's authentication codes or a copy of StateSec GHQ's override software, that is.'
'You know,' Bouret said thoughtfully, 'I'll bet that if they did have it, they would have been up here.'
'Maybe.' Heathrow tried to make his tone final enough to end the conversation before Bouret said something unfortunate, then shook himself and smiled at Howard. 'You did well, Irene. Very well,' he said, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder.
'Thank you, Sir,' she said softly, looking at the deck. Then she raised her eyes to his and smiled suddenly. 'And you did pretty well yourself, Sir!' she added daringly, and blushed dark crimson.
'Do you think they're telling the truth, Brig?' Citizen Major General Seth Chernock asked.
'I think... yes,' Citizen Colonel Therret said after a moment. Chernock's eyes asked the silent question, and he shrugged. 'Everything Heathrow said or offered can be checked from hard records, Sir—if not here and now, then certainly as soon as his other messages are unlocked for delivery.' He shook his head. 'I don't see him exposing himself that way if he were actually up to something. If he hadn't known it would all check out—which it wouldn't, unless he was telling us the truth—he would've made us dig it out of him rather than offering it before we could even ask.'
'But that's impossible,' Chernock said. 'It was Dennis' move.'
'Sir, I realize how important your chess games are, but—'
'You don't understand, Brigham. Or you're missing the point, at least. Dennis and I have been playing chess by mail for nine T-years. It was his move, he knew Heathrow's routing would bring him here, and he would never have passed up the opportunity to send it.'
