6

New London

Skye

17 September 3134

New London Tower was the small but powerful realm of Prefect Della Brown. Tara Campbell had felt like an intruder the first dozen times walking into the lobby of the slender, twelve-story high-rise, always under the suspicious scrutiny of the military men and women who were responsible for the readiness and defense of Prefecture IX. These were people who knew each other by first name, by unit, by the academies they graduated from and their class standing, by whether their parents were confirmed citizens or unproven residents, and, for professional officers, by how their families had stood on such topics as secession of the Isle of Skye and formation of The Republic.

For a building so devoted in its approach to security, there were not many secrets among its occupants.

She couldn’t say exactly when she began to feel less a stranger in this building. Certainly after being “promoted” from her blue visitor’s badge and the infantryman escort who had followed her to the most innocuous of meetings. Before the end of the campaign to defend Skye from the Jade Falcons. Somewhere along the way, the hard-line military presence had breathed a collective sigh of acceptance, and she no longer felt uncomfortable.

If there was one place Duke Gregory might feel the least bit intimidated on his capital world, this was it. The Governor’s Palace was his home turf, and he seemed equally comfortable on the Sanglamore Academy grounds, which Tara had taken over as her own offices and the de facto planetary defense headquarters. Which was why she had chosen the Tower for today’s meeting with the Lord Governor and Paladin McKinnon.

So far, the two strong-willed men had barely agreed to disagree. McKinnon did not like the state of local defenses. Duke Gregory refused to address most problems raised by the Paladin. It placed her in a bind, mediating between naked aggression and blind patriotism.

Today she hoped to shake things up. To do that, she needed these men uncomfortable, slightly out of their element. But not defensive. To dial back on the atmosphere just one notch, she set up their gathering in the cartography room. It was one of very few rooms in Prefect Brown’s secure building not devoted exclusively to the strategic defense of Skye and the prefecture; the domain of a junior captain who rarely visited and three civilian contractors with their bright orange identification badges hung on lanyards around their necks.

“Where’s Della?” Duke Gregory asked as Tara cleared the room of civilians.

Her gold badge had a narrow red border around it, denoting temporary status, but it was enough to back up her orders without having to ask Captain Gereine to do it for her. The captain remained to work any equipment they might need. Tara had him pull up several flat-screen maps of Skye. Inside the room’s central holotank, she asked for a starfield of Prefecture IX and its surrounding space.

“Prefect Brown is looking into troop movements reported on Nusakan.” She didn’t need to explain the importance of that to Duke Gregory, but Paladin McKinnon might not be up-to-date. “Nusakan is where we believe—”

“—Landgrave Jasek is based,” the Paladin interrupted. He stood near the holotank, where bright stars shimmered in Republic gold, Jade Falcon green, or traitorous blue. Leaning over the low rail, his shoulder obliterating the world of Seginus, he sighted between two planets as if he might be considering a bank shot on the billiard table. His dark eyes were cold and distant. “The Stormhammers are on the move.”

“Or will be soon,” she agreed with a curt nod.

But who knew which way they would jump? The latest reports had Stormhammer units striking across three different prefectures on intelligence-gathering raids. What Jasek Kelswa-Steiner was looking for, and how he would act on that information, were anyone’s guess. The two warriors spent a few moments discussing the possibilities, drawing Duke Gregory into the conversation almost against his will.

“You are wasting your time,” he finally said.

McKinnon shrugged. “I’ve felt that way ever since arriving on Skye.”

Tara placed a calming hand on the Paladin’s arm. “Why do you say that, Lord Governor?”

The statesman leaned back against a table, combed fingers lightly through his beard. His posture and his tone said that he thought it obvious.

“If you could predict what Jasek is up to, then so could his enemies. He can’t have lasted as long as he has without staying three jumps ahead of everyone else around him. The boy learned his lessons well.”

Tara heard a bit of frustration mixed in with that reluctant pride. She thought she knew the reason. After Skye’s victory over the Jade Falcons, the duke had mentioned to her renewed attempts to contact his son. Apparently, Jasek was still managing to confound his father too. It made her wonder more about the absent Kelswa-Steiner heir.

“We still need to take him into account,” Tara said diplomatically. The duke lapsed back into silence. She shrugged and turned back to McKinnon. “We’ve had Stormhammers sighted on Ko and Alphecca, and we know they’ve sent agents to Galatea. Drumming up mercenary support?”

“It’s not a bad idea. One we might need to consider as well. Funds are easier to get out of Terra right now than equipment.”

“Promises are even easier,” Duke Gregory said with a frown.

McKinnon stifled his first reaction. “With the election of a new Exarch taking place in three months, Damien Redburn is simply being prudent. He does not want to burden the incoming Exarch with a host of new commitments.”

“We also know that a small outfit from Jasek’s Lyran Rangers recently suffered severe casualties on Ryde.” Tara tried to ignore the byplay, keeping the edge of their focus on local problems.

“What my son wishes to call his deserters is his business,” Duke Gregory said. “Those were lost elements of the Principes Guards who died on Ryde.”

Tara shrugged, and the Lord Governor glared at her for the implied dismissal. “Whatever we wish to call them, we cannot ignore the fact that Jasek may be looking for some payback. Also, if Ryde falls, Kimball II becomes vulnerable again. He may be thinking to add them to his own resources.”

“If he’s at all intelligent, he is.” McKinnon tugged at a cuff as if it irritated him. The dress uniform draped over the elderly warrior’s hard-muscled body with flattering lines, but he would clearly be more at home in a field uniform. Or a cooling vest. “But the Falcons have them now. And with Glengarry and Zebebelgenubi, and Summer and Alkaid in Prefecture VIII, they are close to controlling this entire region of space.”

“Skye controls Prefecture IX,” the Lord Governor proclaimed with indignation. His thinning hair on top gave him a pronounced widow’s peak. Tara saw his scalp flush up inside his hairline. “Not my wayward son and certainly not a band of Clan marauders.”

McKinnon jumped back at Gregory Kelswa-Steiner with a cold frost in his voice. “There are eight, maybe ten planets that mean a damn between Yed Posterior and Dubhe. You are in firm control of exactly one of them, Lord Governor. Make no mistake, the Falcons are winning this war.”

Duke Gregory shook his head adamantly. “Skye remains the heart of Prefecture IX. Which is why we must not—we will not—give it up. Look at what has happened with the fall of Liao. The Capellan Confederation gutted Prefecture V. I will not see the same crisis of morale taking place in the Isle!”

“Now, did that attitude come before or after you drove away your son and four-fifths of your standing military?”

Long enough! Tara quickly stepped in between the two men with a raised hand and a calm voice. “If Skye can be saved at all, it will only be if we work together, gentlemen. Lord Governor, we need the support of Terra and Exarch Redburn, and of whoever replaces him. Sire McKinnon is a welcome asset.” She waited, pressing her will against the petulant Duke until he nodded once, conceding the point and the initiative.