Yoon Lee - Ninefox Gambit

I’ve got people hard at work in the Radiant Ward, mostly at that nitwit Stoghan’s insistence. Admittedly we do want to keep a firm hold of that ward, so it’s not all wasted effort, and it keeps him from hassling me when I need something from him. I promised I’d stop picking on him, but he’s such an easy target. It’s not clear to me why he has so many supporters in the affluent communities, but maybe if my family had been politically indebted to his for the past three generations I’d see the appeal. Not to say he’s not a striking man, but sometimes one wants brains as part of the package.

Keep an eye on Gerenag Abrana. The good thing about Abrana is that she’s smart, but the bad thing is that she’s also ambitious, and given how badly we need her factories, we have to handle her carefully. The fact that she’s been so meek lately makes me suspicious, especially since I’m convinced some of her agents have been poking around my offices. It’ll be tempting to shoot any I catch, it’s always good to keep your hand in, but probably more fruitful from a security standpoint to track them back to wherever they’re scurrying from.

The Umbrella Ward is holding except that one blip in that popular game that’s going around. Annoying as the Shuos are, they are correct that people can be manipulated through games. I’m about to consult Pioro as to how Doctrine can address the matter.

I’m sure you’ve got plenty on your mind, or if you didn’t before, you should now. I’m off to steal Pioro. Keep me posted on any vital pieces of intelligence that fall into your lap, hmm?

Yours in calendrical heresy,

Vh.

CHERIS FELT WIDE awake, but it wouldn’t last. Kel Nerevor had been one of the first to get back on her feet. She had taken over the Weapons terminal, as they had had to have servitors haul Lieutenant Kel Jai to Medical, and his replacement had not yet arrived.

The entire command center was awash with alerts demanding attention. Cheris reminded herself that the trick was to prioritize, no matter how insistent all of the lights were that they had to be addressed all at once. As it stood, you could be forgiven for thinking, based on the crazed quilt of red and amber lights, that the entire moth – the entire swarm – was in danger of crashing into some kind of space reef.

A small team of deltaform servitors were cleaning up the messes, small as they were: some blood on the walls and edges of terminals where people had fallen badly, although by some run of luck there had been no serious head injuries. Fortunately, this wasn’t something that needed Cheris’s intervention. When you got right down to it, servitors were frequently better at guiding themselves than the Kel gave them credit for, and they were being very quiet and very discreet, so as not to distract from the business of battle.

“I don’t understand why the heretics aren’t shooting, sir,” Nerevor said in a rasp. “It’s not like they’d be any more fucked than they already are.”

“They’re still figuring out who we are,” Cheris said. But Nerevor was right. Besides the visual alerts, the staticky charts and diagrams and maps that she was monitoring with half an eye, there was the occasional audio alert, low deadened bell tones. Nothing that required immediate action, even though the displays on her terminal were growing more and more crowded. Each one made her flinch: she kept expecting a real emergency to come through.

“Something’s going on in the Anemone Ward, sir,” Scan said. He looked white around the mouth, but she never would have guessed it from his voice. Indeed, he sat at his terminal with a posture so correct she could only call it stiff, when even Nerevor was hunched over – just a little, with an attitude that suggested she was in pain.

“Double-check to make sure the Kel infantry are in null uniforms,” Jedao said. “The Shuos will already be dressed appropriately.” And: “The Kel must avoid being captured at all costs.” If he noticed the chaotic state of the command center, there was no sign of it in his voice. But of course, this sort of thing was nothing new to him.

Cheris sent the orders in. She wished the air were less dry, less hot, that she could have a glass of water; but in all likelihood she was flushed from the stress of the situation, and she would have to wait until she could leave the command center, like everyone else. Minutes peeled past.

Captain Ko called the command center. She almost missed it because Engineering was sending a series of updates on some situation involving the invariant drive, except she saw the blinking Shuos eye call indicator before Jedao had to bring it to her attention. “Sir,” Ko said, “we couldn’t get it released to us earlier, but there should be a list of qualified shield operators. Kel Command might release information to you now that the shields are down and the secret’s out. Just be careful of the timing: the heretics will be suspicious if they catch us chatting with Kel Command. Besides,” and his voice went dry, “it’s not as if Kel Command won’t have to drill state secrets out of our heads. My compliments to General Jedao, sir.” That was all.

“How generous of him,” Jedao said, just as dryly. The shadow’s eyes, to Cheris’s side on the floor, were narrowed.

Cheris quirked an eyebrow.

“I’m sure you Kel find Shuos infighting very amusing.”

Cheris composed the query, then saved it with a reminder to send it when their ruse was blown.

“Would rather be shooting, sir,” Nerevor said moodily. She was drumming her fingers on the arm of her chair.

“We can’t take out all their guns fast enough to clear a landing corridor for the hoppers,” Cheris said.

“I know,” Nerevor said, and sighed. “Wait for an opening in the situation and all that.”

Cheris rechecked the hopper logistics, on the grounds that she might as well do something. Her mouth felt more dry than ever. She bet she wasn’t the only one. Later, she told herself. In the meantime, she was getting better at blocking out some of the lower-priority alerts and reorganizing her displays so the most important status indicators were available at a glance. The grid was supposed to do this automatically, but its judgment was sometimes skewed.

Five hours and thirty-nine minutes later, it happened. Cheris had gone for a brief rest and felt better for it, to say nothing of the cool water she had drunk, and was now back in the command center.

In the infantry she had envied moth soldiers the controlled environment, the easy availability of baths and water, air that didn’t choke you with dust or scorched metal or cooked flesh. Now that she was in a cindermoth, she missed having to watch where she put her feet; she missed the light of swollen suns instead of the patchwork red-and-amber, she missed the wind cutting into her eyes.

“Sir!” It was Scan, who looked badly like she wanted her shift to end. “Explosion near the communications post in the Anemone Ward. Minor armor breach.”

“Tell the boxmoths all hoppers on standby,” Jedao said.

Cheris began giving orders. The boxmoths Autumn Flute and Six Sticks Standing contained the Shuos infiltrator teams. It was imperative that they get the infiltrators into the Fortress so they could start figuring out where the heresy came from and how to stop it.

“Prepare another transmission,” Jedao said once she had finished. “Garach Jedao Shkan. We’re going to hand you back that communications post, but you should learn to hold on to your toys. I’m sending you an extra gift as a token of my goodwill. Enjoy.”

Cheris entered the message more or less automatically, then stared at the bright columns of text. “What do you mean, ‘gift’?”

“A hostage,” Jedao said. “A high officer, a moth commander for preference. Someone they’ll recognize from public records.”