“Oh, and dearie, could we get an order of those exquisite southwest egg rolls? Two cups of dip.”
“Of course. Comin’ right up.”
As their waitress skittered away, Tyson folded his hands in his lap. “Southwest egg rolls? Southwest relative to what?”
“The old American Southwest, I believe,” Sokolov answered. “Although the last franchise on Earth closed almost thirty years ago. Still, they do great business among nostalgic expats out in the colonies.”
“How do you know so much about a chain? Do you have one on New Vladivostok?”
“What, this place? Heavens no. I denied the permit myself. We have to maintain our exclusivity.”
Tyson almost took the bait. He almost rose up to defend the presence of a Chili’s in his capital city when a moment ago he was ready to order it torn down. Sokolov was notorious for twisting her opponents into emotional pretzels during negotiations, causing them to lose sight of their own interests and endgames to go chasing after some rabbit that had inexplicably been laced up to their pride. As a result, NeoSun had jumped three ranks in the transtellar hierarchy under her twenty-seven standard years of leadership.
Tyson had experienced it himself during the talks over NeoSun’s involvement in their recent joint venture. He’d assumed it was an artfully crafted performance, like a carefully choreographed dance where only one partner knew the steps. But now, sitting in a Chili’s booth during lunch rush, Tyson wondered if it wasn’t something that came naturally to her.
“Well, we’re a frontier town here in Methuselah, and our cowpokes need a watering hole,” he said instead. “Speaking of my city, I didn’t know you were in it. Not until twenty minutes ago, that is.”
“That’s because I’m not in it.”
Tyson’s left eyebrow inched up ever so slightly. “Ah, my mistake. Because I could have sworn I was sitting across from you in this booth on an unannounced lunch meeting.”
“That’s also not happening.”
“Mmm,” Tyson purred. “A conspiracy.”
“Nothing so grandiose, I assure you. We’re just here for a friendly chat between colleagues.” She quieted down again as Cassidy reappeared with their drinks.
“Are we ready to order?” the waitress asked in a hopeful tone.
“I think the appetizer will be enough, thank you dear.”
“Sounds good, it’ll be up in just a couple minutes.” Cassidy disappeared into the lunch crowd again.
“So…” Tyson refocused his guest. “What brings you—and don’t say you traveled thirty light-years for egg rolls, because I won’t believe you.”
“A courtesy,” Sokolov answered back. “You, and by extension I, have a small problem brewing in the black.”
Tyson’s heart fell two rungs down the ladder. So, word of their difficulties at Teegarden’s Star had made it all the way to New Vladivostok, despite his best efforts at spin control and containment.
“We’re on top of it.”
It was Sokolov’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “You know?”
“Of course, we’ve known for two weeks already. We’ve had a team of immunologists on-site under level-five quarantine protocols for a week. They’ve isolated the strain and—”
Sokolov waved him off. “I’m not talking about that flu your Teegarden colony caught. Everyone knows about that. Some even before you did, as I hear it.”
Tyson paused. The barb, intended or not, stung. “We’re looking into who leaked the story as well. We’ll find them.”
“See that you do. The markets turn on news. Either you control it, or it controls you.”
Tyson held his hands out, palms up. “And what news do you have to share, Valeria?”
Sokolov fell silent and took a long pull from her vodka as Cassidy reappeared to drop off their appetizer. “Here you go. Careful, they’re pretty hot still.”
“Thank you, dear. But we can handle the heat,” Sokolov said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. The waitress took the hint and withdrew. Sokolov set her drink back down on the table and carefully turned it.
“I have news from our mutual interests in 82 G Eridani,” she said at last.
Tyson leaned back and inhaled a shallow breath through his nostrils. “Go on.”
Sokolov picked up one of the diagonally cut wonton wraps and took care dipping it in what Tyson assumed was some sort of ranch sauce, then took a tentative bite off the sharp edge.
She swallowed her bite and looked him in the eyes. “There’s been an intersection.”
Tyson swallowed involuntarily, despite not having eaten anything yet. “An intersection? You mean a Xr—”
She held up a hand. “Not here, Tyson. The universe itself has ears these days. But, yes. As you know, there’s a fleet element watching over our little project. A cruiser, I’m told. Two weeks ago, it had an unexpected guest. The first such guest in…”
“Seventy years,” Tyson finished for her.
“Officially, at least, but yes.”
“What did we lose?”
“Nothing important. The cruiser lost a couple of drones. Their captain believes it was just a probing expedition. Testing our capabilities and procedures. That sort of thing. No different from the sorts of games we play trying to hack into each other’s computer networks, Tyson.”
“I would never dream of it, Valeria,” he said soothingly.
“You wouldn’t dirty your hands,” she countered. “You hire people to do the dreaming, just as I do. It’s expected, I take no offense. Ours is just a friendly competition, after all.”
Tyson took a sip of tea and smiled agreement, the names of at least a half dozen operatives who had gone missing during their “friendly competition” over the years floating to the foreground of his consciousness.
“But,” Sokolov continued, “our ‘friends’ on the other side of the Red Line don’t see it that way. They play for keeps, and for whatever reason, Grendel has piqued their interest. That exposes both of our investments in the system to risks that neither of our analysts can model.”
“If this is two weeks old, why haven’t I heard about it?” Tyson asked. “Not even the networks have to deal with that much delay.”
“Because fleet intel is keeping it under wraps. Tightly. I heard a rumor, but it still took a six-figure bribe to pry confirmation loose.”
“That’s a valuable piece of information.” Tyson grabbed a wedge of
