The Imperials were careful to avoid emphasizing that point, and he knew they accepted him as an equal, but he couldn’t accept them as equals. He knew what people like Horus and ’Hani, Geb and Hanalat, ’Tanni and Tamman, had seen and endured, and he felt a deep, almost sublime respect for them, but respect was only part of his complicated feelings. He knew their weaknesses, knew this entire situation arose from mistakes they had made, yet he venerated them. They were his family, his ancestors, the ancient, living avatars of the cause to which he’d dedicated his life. He’d known how much the Beirut mission meant to ’Hani … that was the real reason he’d let her lead it.
But that got him no closer to recognizing whatever that taunting little voice was trying to tell him about.
He rose and switched off his terminal. One other thing he’d learned about that voice; letting it mesmerize him was worse than ignoring it. A few more raids on Anu’s peripheral links to Terra’s terrorists, and it would be time for Operation Stalking-Horse, the ostensible reason for winding down the violence.
He was a bit surprised by how glad that made him. The northerners’ targets were terrorists, but they were also humans, of a sort, and their slaughter weighed upon his soul. Not because of what they were, but because of what it was doing to his own people … and to him.
“It seems to me,” Jantu said thoughtfully, “that we ought to be thinking of some way to respond to these attacks.”
He paused to sip coffee, watching Anu from the corner of one eye, and only long practice kept his smile from showing as the “Chief” glared at Ganhar. Poor, harried Ganhar was about to become poor, dead Ganhar, for there was no way he could respond, and Jantu waited expectantly for him to try to squirm out of his predicament.
But Ganhar had himself well in hand. He met Jantu’s eyes almost blandly, and something about his expression suddenly bothered the Security head. He had not quite put a mental finger on it when Ganhar shattered all his calculations.
“I agree,” he said calmly, and Jantu choked on his coffee. Fortunately for his peace of mind, he was too busy dabbing at the coffee stains on his tunic to notice the slight smile in Commander Inanna’s eyes.
“Oh?” Anu eyed Ganhar sharply, his eyes hard. “That’s nice, Ganhar, considering the mess you’ve made of things so far.”
“With all due respect, Chief,” Ganhar sounded far calmer than Jantu knew he could possibly be, “I didn’t get us into this situation. I only inherited Operations after Kirinal was killed. In the second place, I warned you from the start I was unhappy about how quiet the degenerate militaries were being and that we had no way of knowing what their Imperials were going to do next.” He shrugged. “My people gave you all the information there was, Chief. There simply wasn’t enough to predict what was coming.”
Anu glared at him, and Ganhar made himself meet that glare levelly.
“You mean,” Anu said dangerously, “that you didn’t spot the information.”
“No, I mean it wasn’t there. You’ve had eight Operations heads in the last two thousand years, Chief—nine, counting me—and none of us have found Nergal for you. You know how hard we’ve worked at it. But if we can’t even find them, how are we supposed to know what’s going on in their inner councils? All I’m trying to say is that we can’t do it.”
“It sounds to me,” Anu’s soft voice rose steadily towards even more dangerous levels, “like you’re trying to cover your ass. It sounds to me like you’re making piss—poor excuses because you don’t have one Maker—damned idea what to do about it!”
“You’re wrong, Chief,” Ganhar said, though it took most of his remaining courage to get it out. Anu wasn’t accustomed to being told he was wrong, and his face took on an apoplectic hue as Ganhar continued, taking advantage of the pregnant silence. “I do have a plan, as it happens. Two, in fact.”
Anu’s breath escaped in a hiss. His minions seldom took that calm, almost challenging tone with him, and the shock of hearing it broke through his anger. Maybe Ganhar really had enough of a plan to justify his apparent confidence. If not, he could be killed just as well after listening to him as before.
“All right,” he grated. “Tell us.”
“Of course. First and simplest, we can do nothing at all. We’ve got our people under cover now, and all they’re managing to do is tear up a bunch of purely degenerate terrorists. It makes a lot of noise, and it may look impressive to them, but, fundamentally, they aren’t hurting us. We can always recruit more of the same, and every time they use Imperial technology, they risk losing people and we have a chance of tracking them back to Nergal.“
Ganhar watched Anu’s eyes. He knew—as, surely, Jantu and Inanna did—that what he’d just suggested was the smart thing to do. Unfortunately, Anu’s eyes told him it wasn’t the smart thing to suggest. He shrugged mentally and dusted off his second proposal.
“That’s the simplest thing, but I don’t think it’s necessarily the best,” he lied. “We know some of their degenerates, and we’ve spotted some others who could be working for them.” He shrugged again, this time physically. “All right, if they want to escalate, we’ve got more people and a lot more resources. Let’s escalate right back.”
“Ah?” Anu raised an eyebrow, his expression arrested.
“Exactly, Chief. They surprised us at Colorado Springs, and they’ve been riding the advantage of surprise ever since. They’ve been on the offensive, and so far it’s only cost them a few dozen degenerate military types in attacks on domestic terrorists and maybe—” he emphasized the qualifier “—one or two of their own people since they’ve started going after foreign bases on the ground. They’re probably feeling pretty confident about now, so let’s kill a few of their people and see if they get the message.”
He smiled unpleasantly and tried not to sigh in relief as Anu smiled back. He watched the chief mutineer’s slow nod, then swiveled his eyes challengingly to Jantu, enjoying the angry frustration in the Security man’s expression.
“How?” Anu’s voice was soft, but his eyes were eager.
“We’ve already made a start, Chief. My people are trying to predict their next targets so we can put a few of our own teams in positions to intervene. After that, we can start hitting suspects direct. Give ’em a taste of their own medicine, you might say.”
“I like it, Chief,” Inanna said softly. Anu glanced at her, and she shrugged. “At the least, it’ll keep them from having things all their own way, and, with luck, we may actually get a few of their Imperials. Every one they lose is going to hurt them far worse than the same loss would hurt us.”
“I agree,” Anu said, and Ganhar felt as if the weight of the planet had been lifted from his back. “Maker, Ganhar! I didn’t think you had it in you. Why didn’t you suggest this sooner?”
“I thought it would have been premature. We didn’t know how serious an attack they meant to mount. If it was only a probe, a powerful response might actually have encouraged them to press harder in retaliation.” And wasn’t that a mouthful of nothing, Ganhar thought sourly. But Anu’s smile grew.
“I see. Well, get it in the works. Let’s send a few of them and their precious degenerates to the Breaker and see how they like that!”
Ganhar smiled back. Actually, he thought, except for the possibility of ambushing the other side’s raiding parties it was the stupidest thing he’d ever suggested. Almost every degenerate his people had suspected of being among Nergal’s henchmen had already vanished as completely as Hector MacMahan. He’d target his remaining suspects first, but after that he might as well pick targets at random. Aside from the satisfaction Anu might take from it, they would accomplish exactly nothing, however many degenerates they blew away.