“Have the families of the dead put through screening, then marked down for transport off-world,” she ordered. In the distance, she heard the sound of guns. “They can set up somewhere else.”
“If we can find somewhere willing to take them,” Winters said.
Kat bit down a sharp reply. Winters was right. So many refugees were washing around what had once been the Theocracy that a few hundred more would not be warmly embraced. And these refugees would be coming directly from Ahura Mazda. They might be women and children, but they would still be about as welcome as a punch in the face.
“We will,” she said, although she wasn’t sure that was true. “Have your men . . .”
Another round of gunfire echoed over the city. A pair of helicopters, followed by a marine skimmer, flew overhead, heading for the sound of the guns. Kat tensed, expecting to see an HVM stabbing up to take out one of the helicopters, but there was nothing. Most of those weapons had been expended during the original invasion, although her intelligence staff kept picking up rumors of secret stockpiles that had only just been rediscovered by the insurgents. There was no way to be sure, but Kat suspected that all such stockpiles had been uncovered long ago. The insurgency desperately needed heavy weapons.
Captain Akbar Rosslyn hurried over to her side. “Admiral, there are reports of shootings closer, much closer,” he said. “You really should head back to Commonwealth House.”
Kat took a moment to compose herself. Rosslyn was a good man. It wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t Pat. But it still felt odd to be working next to a stranger. She hadn’t made any attempt to get to know him . . . not, she acknowledged, that she should have done so. Pat had been her equal, or close to it, when they’d met. Rosslyn was so far beneath her that they might as well be on different planets. And yet, as her chief protector, he was very close to her.
And I sound like Candy, Kat thought ruefully. Her older sister was notorious for having affairs, including one with her bodyguard. Rosslyn is doing his job.
“Keep me informed,” she ordered Winters. “I’ll be in Commonwealth House.”
Winters nodded. “I suggest we put all the local workers through another round of screenings,” he said. “We have to be sure they’re not under enemy control.”
Kat sucked in her breath. There was one sure way to make someone untrustworthy . . . and that was to treat him as though he was untrustworthy. It was true on Tyre—her father had admitted, once, that he’d turned a loyal subordinate against him—and even more true on Ahura Mazda. Odd—before the invasion, a man could be arrested at the command of his superiors at will—but true. Interrogating the workers might simply create more enemies.
“Do it,” she said reluctantly.
She turned and followed Rosslyn back to the armored car. The streets between Commonwealth House and Government House—what remained of Government House—were supposed to be safe, but there was no point in taking chances. She shouldn’t have come here at all, as Rosslyn had pointed out. But Kat had known she needed to see the blast zone with her own eyes. It was the only way to grasp the scale of their failure. Admiral Junayd was only one man, had only been one man, but too many dreams had died with him.
The vehicle hummed into life as soon as the door was closed, outriders moving into position to provide covering fire if they came under attack. Kat took a moment to center herself, then reached for the datapad to check the reports. Her staff did their best to filter things that could be better handled at a lower level, but there were still hundreds of messages coming in every hour on the hour. The planet never slept.
She forced herself to work until the vehicle turned into Commonwealth House and drove straight into the secure garage. The marines saluted her as she exited, although Rosslyn and his men looked as if they wouldn’t be happy until she was in her office. Kat returned the salutes, then took the lift straight to the upper levels. Perhaps there was a chance to grab a mug of coffee before the next meeting.
I really need to get back on a command deck, she thought. It would be so much simpler.
“Admiral,” Kitty said, as Kat stepped into the antechamber. “Commodore Higgins requested a holoconference at your earliest convenience.”
“Ah,” Kat said. Commodore Fran Higgins wasn’t known for jumping at shadows. “Set up the call in my office, then bring me some coffee.”
“Aye, Admiral,” Kitty said. “You’re also scheduled for meetings with . . .”
Kat held up a hand. “I’ll deal with them later,” she said, tiredly. Her afternoon schedule was full. Of course it was full. Meeting after meeting after meeting . . . was she actually doing any good at all? Or was she simply wasting away? “Have some lunch sent up as well, please. I think I’m going to need it.”
“Aye, Admiral.”
Kat rubbed her forehead as she stepped into her office, feeling a headache starting to form behind her temples. The office was immense, bigger even than a flag officer’s quarters on a superdreadnought . . . She couldn’t help wondering, sourly, if she’d made a mistake in accepting it. She didn’t have to show off her status, either as a fleet admiral or privy councilor. Everyone who was anyone already knew who she was.
And some of them see me as their meal ticket, she thought crossly. She’d met a handful of sycophants in the navy, yet there were entire departments
