The Shadow of Saganami

Abigail Hearns intended to conduct a verbal exam on the subject the next day, and Helen believed in being prepared.

'No, the Andermani Emperor,' Leo said, rolling his eyes in exasperation. 'Of course Van Dort!'

'He's a nice enough guy. For an old geezer.' Helen shrugged.

'Scuttlebutt says he's a real hard-ass political type. Some kind of hired gun the Provisional Governor is calling in.'

'Then scuttlebutt has its head up its ass,' Helen replied tartly.

'Hey! I'm just saying what I've heard,' Leo said a touch defensively. 'If I'm wrong, straighten me out, don't bite my head off!'

Helen ran her hands through her hair with a grimace.

'I really do have to study this maintenance manual.'

'Bull,' Leo shot back. 'You know that stuff forward and -backward-you've aced every proficiency exam we've had!'

'He's got a point, Helen,' Aikawa said with a grin. 'If you don't want to talk about it, that's one thing. But you really need to come up with a better excuse than that.'

'All right. All right!' She grinned back, acknowledging defeat. 'But you guys have to understand, I've spent probably less than two hours with him so far. It isn't like I can tell you what he's thinking or anything like that. Or, for that matter, like I would if I could.'

She accompanied the last sentence with a stern gaze, and her audience nodded in acknowledgment.

'Having said that, I think he really is a nice guy. He's worried, I can tell you that much, although I don't know how much he knows about what the Baroness has in mind. He seems to be as smart as they come, too. And he spends most of his time buried in briefing papers and personal correspondence from what looks like people all over the Cluster. I guess the reason I kind of snapped at you, Leo, is that the one thing he isn't is a 'hired gun.' This is a very serious player-maybe even more serious, in some ways, than Cathy Montaigne-and this entire annexation idea was pretty much his brainstorm. I don't know what Baroness Medusa's thinking, but she's just latched onto the man who probably has the most political horsepower of anybody in the entire Cluster. When you combine that with the fact that she had Hexapuma divert to Rembrandt specifically to pick him up instead of just sending a dispatch boat for him, I'd say she's probably got him-and us-earmarked for something pretty damned significant, wouldn't you?'

* * *

'I wonder if Terekhov's picked up Van Dort yet?' Rear Admiral Khumalo murmured.

'I beg your pardon, Sir? Were you speaking to me?'

'What?' Khumalo shook himself and straightened in his chair. 'Sorry, Loretta. I suppose I was actually just thinking out loud. I was wondering if Hexapuma' s reached Rembrandt yet.'

'She probably has,' Captain Shoupe said after a quick, reflexive glance at the date/time display on the briefing room bulkhead. The rear admiral's daily staff conference had just broken up, and abandoned coffee and teacups stood forlornly beside mostly empty carafes.

'I certainly hope so,' Khumalo said, and the chief of staff looked quickly back at him. His broad face looked weary, far more worried than he'd permitted it to look during the staff meeting.

'If she hasn't already, I'm sure she will in the next day or so, Sir,' she said encouragingly.

'The sooner the better,' Khumalo said. 'I'm not sure I'm prepared to admit it to Mr. O'Shaughnessy, but the situation on Montana's threatening to get badly out of hand. I'm still more than a little uneasy about the entire notion of meddling in their internal political quarrels, but given this latest news...' He shook his head. 'If Van Dort- and Terekhov, I suppose-really can do anything about it, then the sooner we get them there, the better.'

Shoupe kept her expression carefully neutral, but she was a little taken aback by Khumalo's attitude. Her superior must be even more concerned about the Montana Independence Movement than she'd thought to have changed his position that radically.

'May I ask if the Provisional Governor's firmly decided Montana has priority over Split, Sir?' she asked respectfully.

'You may, and I don't know,' Khumalo replied with a half-smile, half-grimace. 'All I can say is that with it looking more and more as if the Kornatians really did nail Nordbrandt, Montana's relative priority's risen pretty steeply. Especially after Westman's last little trick!'

Shoupe nodded. News of the MIM's destruction of the Montana System Bank's headquarters had reached Spindle the day before.

Why, oh why, she wondered, couldn't our problem-child star systems be closer to each other. Or to us, for that matter.

Split lay just over 60.6 LY from Spindle. Montana was 82.5 LY from Spindle, and over a hundred and twenty from Split. Even a warship like Hexapuma would require more than eight days to make the trip from Spindle to Split. Montana was the next best thing to twelve days away, and the trip from Montana to Split would require better than seventeen days. All of which made coordination between Spindle and what looked like being the Cluster's two true flashpoints a genuine, unmitigated pain in the ass. Just getting information back and forth, even using the speedy dispatch boats which routinely traveled in the riskier Theta Bands of hyper-space, took literally weeks. No matter what Rear Admiral Khumalo or Baroness Medusa decided to do, they could absolutely count on the fact that the information on which their decision was based was out of date.

'I suppose we should concentrate on being glad Nordbrandt and the FAK seem to be out of business, Sir,' she suggested after a moment. 'That doesn't make dealing with Mr. Westman any more attractive, but at least it's an improvement over having to deal with both at once!'

'A point, Loretta,' Khumalo agreed with a tired smile. 'Definitely a point.'

Chapter Thirty-Five

'The Captain's compliments, Sir, and the pinnace will depart from Boat Bay Three in thirty minutes.'

'Thank you, Helen.' Bernardus Van Dort smiled and shook his head. 'You didn't really have to come and deliver that message in person, you know. The com would have worked just fine.'

'First of all, I didn't mind delivering it in person, Sir. Second, when the Captain 'suggests' that a snotty personally deliver a message to an important guest aboard his ship, the snotty in question gets on her little feet, trots right down the passage, and delivers said message.'

Van Dort laughed out loud, and Helen Zilwicki grinned at him. Their relationship had come a long way in the seven days-six by Hexapuma's internal clocks-since he'd come on board. At first, Helen thought, he'd started out regretting having accepted her as his aide. He seemed, for all his accomplishments and personal wealth, a very private man. And, she thought, a lonely one. He'd certainly been politely distant from her, with a sort of cool courtesy that discouraged any familiarity. Indeed, in some ways he'd seemed even more distant from her than from anyone else in the entire ship, as if he were deliberately keeping her at arm's length. He'd gotten a bit more comfortable, but he still maintained that sense of distance, of watchfulness.

Yet she'd come to realize there was a warm and caring person under that isolated, detached shell of his, and she wondered why a man like that lived such a solitary life. No doubt he did have large, capable staffs to serve him at home on Rembrandt. And, equally no doubt, he could call on the RTU staffers on any planet in the Cluster to provide him with secretaries and assistants at need. But he should have had a permanent, personal staff. At least one private aide to travel with him whenever travel was necessary. Someone who was as much a confidant as an administrative assistant.

Someone to keep him company.

There had to be a reason he didn't, and she wished she dared to ask him what it was.

'Will you be free to accompany me to the meeting, Helen?' he asked, and she looked at him in surprise.

'I... don't know, Sir. As far as I know, the possibility hasn't been discussed. I'm sure that if you'd like me to, the Captain would authorize it.'