And any listening ears will probably have no doubt that something significant has been said, Peter thought. It would be an insult to their intelligence to think otherwise.
“I’d be happy to attend,” he said for the benefit of any eavesdroppers. “Should I bring my wife and children?”
“It’s more of a casual dinner,” Duke Rudbek said. “We don’t want to be in all the society pages.”
“Merely the most important ones,” Peter said dryly. Taking his wife and children would suggest that the affair had actually been a highly exclusive party rather than a networking dinner. People would talk, particularly the people who felt insulted that they hadn’t been invited. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”
“Five o’clock, please,” Duke Rudbek said. “And thank you.”
His image vanished. Peter stared at the display, feeling a chill creeping into his heart. Something had happened, clearly. Something had happened that had forced Duke Rudbek, a man who was in no way a coward, to skulk around like a common criminal.
Kat is lucky, he thought ruefully. She’s allowed to have friends.
He pushed the thought aside as he called Yasmeena, told her about the dinner appointment, and went back to work. The question of precisely what had happened nagged at his mind as he read report after report, chaired two committee meetings that went nowhere, and attended a session on training materials for the next generation of workers. He couldn’t help thinking that that was a little optimistic. Masterly and Masterly had been right. The corporation was bleeding to death from a thousand cuts.
The situation will settle, eventually, he told himself firmly. The peacetime economy would stabilize sooner or later. But we cannot hide from the fact that it will get worse before it gets better.
He was almost relieved to board his aircar at the end of the day and take flight, soaring over the city towards Rudbek Mansion. He knew he had no shortage of reports to read and paperwork to sign, but he just relaxed into the seat instead and closed his eyes. Perhaps it was time to add another layer of senior managers, people who could make decisions without consulting the CEO. But that would just make it harder for him to truly understand what was going on. And someone could easily pull the wool over his eyes if they had bad intentions.
Rudbek Mansion came into view, a futuristic building resting in the middle of a forest. It looked, Peter had often thought, like an unrealistic starship on the verge of taking flight. His father had told him that the original Rudbek had disdained the fashion for mansion designs that dated all the way back to the prespace era on Old Earth. He’d wanted something that symbolized his corporation’s determination to keep expanding until it reached the farthest star. Peter had to admit that the old man had succeeded.
And half the society dames say it lacks dignity, he thought. There was a message of defiance too, for anyone who cared to look. But a duke doesn’t have to care about dignity.
The aircar landed neatly on a pad. A young woman wearing a formal uniform greeted Peter and led him through a maze of corridors. Peter couldn’t help admiring the interior design, a strange combination of luxury starship and hotel. Walls were covered in screens rather than paintings; servants wore simple uniforms rather than the elaborate designs favored by the rest of High Society. It was, Peter conceded, rather refreshing.
“Peter,” Duke Rudbek said, as Peter was shown into the small dining room. “Thank you for coming.”
Peter nodded, looking around the compartment. Duchess Zangaria, Duke Tolliver, Israel Harrison . . . it was practically a working dinner. A chill ran down his spine as he realized the implications. They’d agreed not to meet regularly for fear of tipping off the king. Duke Rudbek wouldn’t have called them if the situation wasn’t urgent. The meeting alone would be far too revealing.
“I suppose you’re wondering why I called you here,” Duke Rudbek said once Peter had taken a seat at the table. A server delivered a mug of coffee and then departed as silently as she’d come. “Matters have . . . taken an alarmingly dangerous turn.”
He paused. “Two weeks ago, the remnants of the Theocratic Navy were destroyed.”
Duchess Zangaria blinked. “I think your definition of bad news requires some work.”
“That’s good news,” Duke Rudbek said. “But this was two weeks ago.”
Peter stared at him. “And we haven’t heard a peep about this?”
“No,” Duke Rudbek told him. “Most of my sources in the navy are entirely unaware there even was an engagement. I only heard about this through a source in the palace itself. There is a total information blackout. I’m not even sure that the garrison on Ahura Mazda knows that the threat is over.”
“You’d think the navy would be telling everyone,” Duchess Zangaria said. “Every crown we spent on the deployment to the occupied sector has just been justified.”
“You’d think,” Duke Rudbek agreed. He took a long breath. “It gets worse. The post-battle investigation, according to my source, uncovered proof that someone was supporting the Theocrats. Someone from within the Commonwealth itself. Someone . . . fairly high up the chain.”
Peter felt as if the ground had just shifted under his feet. It was bad enough to think that one of the other interstellar powers might have quietly backed the Theocracy. He could see the logic behind keeping the Royal Navy distracted, but it was madness. The prospect of a full-fledged interstellar war against someone more advanced than the Theocrats was terrifying. But . . . if someone in the Commonwealth was behind the insurgency . . .
A nasty
