The Shadow of Saganami

government had no right to subvert the Montana Constitution, and no off-worlders had the right to exploit and economically enslave his planet. He would fight those people, and those who served them, in any way he must. Yet he'd also do his best to minimize casualties even among their ranks. And before he embarked on the deliberate massacre of innocent men, women, and children, he would turn himself in, and all his men with him.

Still, he thought, drawing a deep breath and getting a grip on his shock, he was still a long way away from that kind of decision. And he had no intention of finding himself forced to make it.

But I do have another decision to make. 'Firebrand' and his Central Liberation Committee are supporting both me and Nordbrandt. Do I really want to be associated, even indirectly, with someone who could do something like this? Nobody outside the Central Liberation Committee would ever know I was, but I'd know. And Firebrand was so enthusiastic about Nordbrandt and her plans. My God, his eyes narrowed, momentarily harder than blue flint, in fresh realization, the whole time he was standing here telling me how he admired my 'restraint,' he was already in bed with a murderous bitch like this!

I should tell him to bugger off and stay the hell away from me, if he's so fond of bloodthirsty lunatics. The last thing I need is to be associated with someone like Nordbrandt!

But he was right. I do need the weapons and other support he's offered to provide. And so far, at least, there's been no pressure to change my operational methods. If there is any pressure, I can always just say goodbye and don't screen us, we'll screen you.

He gazed off into nothingness, at things only he could see, and wrestled with his own demons even as he shied away from a demoness named Nordbrandt.

Chapter Thirty-Four

'Welcome to Rembrandt, Captain Terekhov!'

The big, burly captain in the uniform of the Rembrandt System Navy held out his hand and shook Terekhov's firmly. More than firmly, really; whether he meant to be or not, he was clearly a knuckle crusher.

'I'm Captain Groenhuijen, Admiral Van Der Wildt's chief of staff. On her behalf, and that of the entire Navy, I officially welcome you to the Rembrandt System.'

'Thank you, Sir,' Aivars Terekhov replied, hoping he would get his hand back without permanent damage. Arjan Groenhuijen was a good eight centimeters shorter than he was, but the Rembrandter was thick chested and broad shouldered, with long, powerful arms and sinewy hands. Terekhov suspected that he was one of those physical fitness types who spent most of his free hours in the weight room.

The dark— haired Rembrandter finally released his hand, and beamed at him.

'It's a genuine pleasure to see you here, Captain Terekhov. You aren't the first RMN vessel we've seen, of course. But you are the most modern and most powerful. I'm impressed, Captain. Most impressed.'

'Time permitting, Sir,' Terekhov said, resisting a temptation to wiggle his fingers to make sure all of them were still in working order, 'I'd be honored to give you a tour. I'm afraid, however, if I've read the urgency attached to my instructions properly, that this will be a very brief visit.'

'True, I'm afraid.' Groenhuijen's expression sobered. 'President Tinkhof has stressed the importance of assisting any Manticoran vessel, especially any Queen's ship, visiting our space. According to the correspondence which has passed back and forth between her office, Admiral Van Der Wildt's office, and Mr. Van Dort, in this instance the greatest assistance we can provide will be to get you turned around and on your way quickly. Do you have any pressing logistics requirements?'

'No, Sir. Thank you. We're still in remarkably good shape on the logistics side.' Terekhov didn't mention the missiles he'd expended in Nuncio. Those expenditures couldn't have been made good out of Rembrandt stocks. Besides, his next stop was Spindle itself, where the station's service squadron would be able to supply any of his needs.

'Excellent!' Groenhuijen rubbed his hands together, once again beaming. 'In that case, I'm to inform you that Mr. Van Dort will, with your permission, come aboard at zero-seven-thirty hours local. Admiral Van Der Wildt's arranged his transportation to your vessel.'

'That will be quite convenient, Sir. One point, however. My orders are to transport Mr. Van Dort to Spindle as expeditiously as possible. No mention was made of any staff or assistants. We are, of course, prepared to carry any such staff, but my XO and Logistics Officer would like to know if we're expecting any additional passengers, so that they can make arrangements for their accommodations and comfort.'

'That's very kind of you, Captain. However, Mr. Van Dort will be traveling by himself. As is his customary practice.'

Something about the Rembrandter's tone piqued Terekhov's curiosity, and he looked more closely at the other man.

'I see. May I ask if you're aware of any special needs Mr. Van Dort might have?'

For a moment, it seemed Groenhuijen wasn't going to answer. Then the RSN captain gave a smile which contained very little humor.

'Mr. Van Dort routinely travels by himself, Captain. It is his way, you understand.' He waited until Terekhov had nodded. 'Nonetheless, there are those here in Rembrandt who... worry about him. He is not, perhaps, universally beloved throughout the Cluster, or even here on Rembrandt these days. And he's driving himself hard- very hard-to make the annexation a success. It isn't really my place to say this, but there are those of us who regard him as a national treasure, a man upon whom a great many things depend, and for whom we have enormous respect. It would please me-and Admiral Van Der Wildt-to think he had someone specifically... looking after his needs. Whether he's prepared to take someone along for that purpose or not.'

Terekhov looked into Groenhuijen's eyes and was startled by what he saw there. The bluff, hand-crushing naval officer's admiration and concern for Bernardus Van Dort were obvious. And despite his rank, the Rembrandter also looked like a young boy, running around behind the back of a beloved uncle to be sure he was properly looked after.

'I see, Sir,' Terekhov said. 'We'll be expecting him. And I promise we'll take good care of him.'

* * *

'Midshipwoman Pavletic reports to the Executive Officer as directed, Sir!' Ragnhild Pavletic said, bracing to attention before Ansten FitzGerald's desk.

'Midshipwoman Zilwicki reports to the Executive Officer as directed, Sir!' Helen Zilwicki echoed, coming to attention beside her.

'Stand easy,' FitzGerald said gravely, and hid a smile as both snotties obeyed. Their expressions were those of two young women whose consciences were spic and span, without trace of sin. But something about their body language, a slight tightness to the shoulders, perhaps, suggested both of them were earnestly searching their memories for some infraction sufficiently serious to have landed them in front of the XO himself.

'First,' he continued, in that same grave tone, 'neither of you is in trouble.' Without moving a muscle, they managed to radiate enormous relief. 'Second, I have an additional duty looking for someone to be assigned to it. At the moment, it looks like one of you is going to be the lucky recipient. However, I wanted to discuss it with both of you in order to determine which is best suited to it.'

The middies glanced at one another from the corners of their eyes, then looked attentively at their superior.

'In about two hours,' FitzGerald said, 'Mr. Bernardus Van Dort will be coming aboard the Nasty Kitty . Excuse me,' he grinned wickedly at their expressions, especially Ragnhild's, 'I mean, of course, aboard Hexapuma ,' he corrected himself. Then his tone sobered. 'I presume both of you know who he is?'

'Ah, we saw him on Flax, at the banquet, Sir,' Helen said. 'I believe we were told he was an important commercial representative from Rembrandt, but no one explained anything more than that to us.'

'I did hear, Sir,' Ragnhild added, 'that he was-or had been-a very senior board member of the Rembrandt