. . . and none of the reports she’d read were very reassuring. There had been riots, there had been protests, there had been threats to everyone from the lowest MP to the king himself . . . and so many rumors had leaked out that the truth was overshadowed by the lies. Too many problems were bursting into the open for anyone, even the king, to handle them; too many tensions that had been buried for decades were exploding under their feet. The planet seemed doomed to go through a long period of civil unrest.
She turned her attention to the display. Home Fleet was concentrated, although God alone knew what it was concentrated against; it floated in orbit around the moon, ready to respond to any crisis. Tyre itself was ringed with Planetary Defense’s battlestations, gunboats flittering to and fro as if they expected trouble at any moment. Kat felt her heart sink as she assessed the battlestations. They were Parliament’s, not the king’s. Whoever was behind the whole affair might already be planning to seize them and take control of the high orbitals.
And taking them back would be damn near impossible, she thought. Tyre was the most heavily defended world in explored space. Even Home Fleet would have problems punching through the defenses.
She turned as Kitty’s console bleeped. “Admiral, the Admiralty is calling you on a secure channel,” Kitty said. “The header insists you have to take the call in private.”
“Route it into my office,” Kat ordered.
She stepped through the hatch, silently relieved that something was finally happening. The hatch hissed closed behind her, plunging the compartment into silence. Kat walked across to her desk, pressing her finger against the scanner as she sat down. A moment later, Grand Admiral Tobias Vaughn’s face appeared in front of her. He looked older than she remembered, old and fatigued and worn out. He’d been in the navy longer than she’d been alive.
And he was the previous king’s client too, Kat reminded herself. And he rose high because of the king’s patronage.
“Admiral Falcone,” Vaughn said. His voice was weary. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Thank you, sir,” Kat said. She reminded herself that it was late evening on Tyre. Starship lag was working in her favor. “It’s good to see you too.”
“Your report has set off shockwaves, despite our best efforts,” Vaughn said. “Enough of it leaked out to make life difficult for all concerned.”
Kat kept her face blank. That wasn’t her fault. She’d upheld the communications embargo as soon as it had been ordered. As far as she knew, no one back in the liberated sector knew that the enemy fleet had been destroyed. Only a handful of people on her ship knew what else had been found at the enemy base. And they certainly couldn’t have sent any message while the fleet had been in hyperspace. No, it hadn’t been her fault. Someone in the palace had blabbed.
Which is no surprise, she thought. Everyone who is anyone has their own little network of spies.
“I understand that, sir,” she said calmly. “How may I be of service?”
“It is not clear if we will have time to start a reasoned and reasonable investigation into the matter,” Vaughn said. “Preliminary investigations have made it clear that almost everyone who served at Razwhana Depot has been reported dead. They may well be dead.”
Kat stared. “What? All of them?”
“The depot only had a skeleton crew,” Vaughn pointed out. “At its height, we only ever assigned thirty crewmen, all reservists deemed too unfit for service on more . . . active . . . bases. There were fifteen men and women assigned to the depot when the supplies were destroyed, then the depot itself shut down. All of them have been reported dead.”
“But if someone can fiddle the records,” Kat said, “they may have simply assumed other identities.”
“Quite,” Vaughn said. “Or they were killed, but not at their reported places of death. Their bodies were certainly never found.” He rubbed his forehead. “But that isn’t a problem right now, Admiral,” he said. “We need you to do something for us, quietly.”
Kat frowned. William’s words rang in her ears. “What do you want?”
If Vaughn noticed her tone, he gave no sign. “There have been a number of threats against Princess Drusilla,” he said. “We’d like to send her to your ship for safekeeping. Keep her safe until the situation stabilizes.”
“Is it that bad?”
“Right now?” Vaughn looked her in the eye. “It’s worse than anything I’ve ever seen.”
“Very well,” Kat said. She’d never really liked Princess Drusilla, but she could put up with her company. “I’ll have quarters prepared for her.”
“She’ll be with you in a couple of hours,” Vaughn said. “And . . . thank you.” He let out a long breath. “Tomorrow, they’re going to vote on impeaching the king,” he added. “And then . . . we will see.”
Kat swallowed, hard. “I understand.”
“I’d be surprised if you did,” Vaughn said. “We’re in uncharted waters, Katherine. And who knows what will happen next?”
Peter stood at the window, staring out over the shadowed city. The streetlights had been turned off, as had the lights illuminating the palace and the other magnificent buildings in the center of town. Martial law had been declared, and everyone had been warned to keep their shutters down, plunging the city further into darkness. The troops on the streets wouldn’t hesitate to enforce the rules with as much force as necessary. It was a return to the darkest days of the war.
And we’re fighting ourselves, he thought numbly. There’s no external enemy any longer.
It was a bitter thought. If anything, the last week had been worse than he’d expected. The torrent of layoffs had well and truly begun, throwing hundreds of thousands of people out of work.
