Roe’s assessment reinforced his question about sense of urgency, but Trevor saw no credible reason to object. He shared a glance with Shireena, whose gentle nod said she reached the same conclusion.

  “We accept. Please thank Director Knightley.”

  “I will,” Roe said. “You’ll have the agents within a standard day.”

  “We’ll rearrange the office furniture,” Shireena said with a grin.

  Trevor saw an opening and took it.

  “While we’re on the subject, I think this would be an excellent opportunity to meet Director Knightley. He’s never visited since taking over for Lana Devonshire. Would it be possible for him to join those agents? I’d love to have a sit-down.”

  This wasn’t his first such request. Roe licked her lips, a tell-tale sign of her response. Trevor learned to read her every move.

  “I’ll pass along the invitation, Governor, but I’m sure the Director will decline. He’s not a traveler.”

  “Then perhaps we could arrange a deepstream?”

  “I’ll make a note.”

  Yep. They’d been here before. Trevor spoke with Haas about Knightley’s reclusive behavior – the mirror opposite of Devonshire’s approach. Haas said SI was outside her control except on budgetary matters. She offered no viable explanation, though she had worked hand in hand with Devonshire.

  “Please do,” Trevor said. “I appreciate all your contributions, Carson. But I’ll be blunt: The Governor of this station should have a direct line to the head of SI, just as I do with the Guardian fleet and Central Command. Without that link to Lana Devonshire, the Mau Ping incident would have gone a different way.”

  “Noted, Trevor. Noted.”

  He hoped the President would stick her neck in, but no such luck. She held to her plan of not intervening unless she had something useful to say. What was her true game?

  “I believe that covers the internal reports. Any specific items you wish to introduce, Carson?”

  Roe cleared her throat.

  “You’ll each a receive a detailed copy, but I will summarize the essence. It will further illustrate the Director’s concerns regarding SG’s pace. He has activated more of our curated field agents than at any previous time. Their reports are consistent.

  “We’re seeing a steady increase in low-level criminal activity across all worlds and demographics. Aeterna excluded, of course, since we have no agents there. We attribute the pattern to a growing sense of desperation brought on not only by the expanding territorial battles between Black Star and, well, everyone. Motif addicts are younger than ever. We see major lapses in law enforcement and steady infiltration of violent criminal elements into pockets previously considered immune.

  “It is Director Knightley’s position that the failure of MR-44 left vast numbers of people feeling a sense of dread and hopelessness. Many believe interstellar war is inevitable, but more predict the collapse of society. Survivalist groups have grown exponentially. They’re preparing for the aftermath.

  “I should caution that these numbers remain small relative to the total population, but we’re talking double-figure increases with no end in sight. That’s why this station is so important. It must remain a sanctuary from terrestrial conflict. A beacon of hope and stability, as a politician might say.”

  Trevor set his eyes on the room’s most important politician. If she was ever to offer a nugget of wisdom ...

  Haas complied in a way fitting of her chosen profession.

  “Symbols matter. Amity is the most powerful one we have. If the station thrives, the Collectorate thrives. It’s why Lana and I wanted you, Trevor, to be Governor. It’s why I allowed you to expand your powers, fire the Executive Board, and unleash Shadow Gambit.” She tilted her head toward the Sec Admin Chiefs and Shireena. “We need men and women who will not compromise the symbol. If you have to trample on the rights of a few to protect the symbol, you have my full support. Hard times are coming. We cannot compromise.”

  Nice speech, Trevor thought. Easier to say in a classified briefing than before the public. If caught between a rock and a hard place, would she buckle on her no-compromise pledge?

  “I agree, Madam President,” he said. “We do whatever it takes. Anything else, Carson?”

  “No. But I suspect what you’re about to hear from the Captain and the Admiral will double-down on the narrative.”

  Trevor turned to Capt. Graygone.

  “Captain, has your investigation on the WTZ incursion produced any new leads?”

  Graygone straightened his jacket and leaned forward.

  “Incremental. Alas. We’re dealing with fragments. The enemy’s ship was all but vaporized. Our inquiries are ongoing.”

  That sounded a lot like the summary he gave two weeks earlier, exactly twenty days after an unregistered Scram exited worm less than five kilometers from Episteme and approached on a suicidal trajectory. Graygone’s warship, the Styron, shredded it with a barrage of missiles less than a kilometer from impact.

  The incident happened so quickly, no one inside Amity knew about it until the UNF released details ten hours later. Trevor was furious. The IC held a classified hearing. The public never learned how close Amity came to losing a spaceport and hundreds of lives.

  “I’m sure you’re doing your best,” Trevor said, knowing he was about to piss off the man. “But I see little progress after thirty-six standard days.”

  Graygone raised his hand as a stop sign.

  “There’s no need to condescend, Governor.”

  “I wasn’t trying to, Captain. The only reason people are not fleeing Amity in droves is because there were no witnesses to how close that ship penetrated. They believe the official story about an errant worm drive calculation. My concern is the pace of the UNF’s investigation and the lack of any change in the fleet’s disposition. A multi-ship attack might have succeeded.”

  “Would have succeeded,” Graygone said without a hint of irony. “You’re right. We were fortunate. But we haven’t been sitting on our collective asses. The UNF is enacting a new plan. In short, this is my final confab as Battle Group leader. The Guardian fleet is about to undergo a significant change. Adm. Nagano will speak to it.”

  A typical blindside. The UNF rarely submitted agenda items bearing substantive details. Trevor hated these sorts of surprises.

  Nagano opened his tablet and expanded a holo featuring the entire Amity Station Exclusion Zone, which extended five hundred kilometers in all directions.

  “The incident proved what we long suspected,” Nagano said. “A fleet of warships lacks the necessary reaction time in this age of unregistered worm drive access. Long-range tracking has been upgraded. It will help us detect incoming enemy. However, warships can only maneuver as fast as their system engines allow. The Styron happened to be in a prime location to hit the enemy.”

  He showed the Battle Group’s location at the moment the Scram entered the Worm Transit Zone, highlighting Graygone’s ship.

  “Had Styron been twenty degrees further aft of Episteme, it would not have been able to fire quickly enough to score a hit without risking the station itself. If we added warships, we improve our odds but redeploy valuable resources needed elsewhere.”

  “Understood,” Trevor interrupted. “We always assumed three warships and their patrols would cover every blind spot.”

  Nagano coughed with apparent irritation but resumed.

  “The enemy – whether Black Star or their affiliates – will grow more sophisticated. We believe the best defense is one that cannot miss, no matter how close the worm aperture.”

  Nagano shifted to a new model, showing one – wait, one? – ship guarding Amity. It hovered above the station, perpendicular to the three sectors. The major shift? A bubble grid of thousands of objects extending outward twenty kilometers.

  “What is that?”

  “A solution to two problems,” Nagano said. “We will reduce the Guardian fleet to a single ship which will protect the Commercial Transit Vector to Episteme and Harmony.” The illustration highlighted the CTV as a pair of narrow tunnels leading into and out of the spaceports. “Outside the vector, we will deploy two hundred thousand Carbedyne-fueled drones to form a defensive web. These drones carry miniaturized singularity bombs.

  “If this sounds familiar, it should. The Aeternans have used this technique in their system for thirty years. Swarm war cruisers used a similar approach to shield their vessels – the Crust, they called it.”

  Trevor saw the disbelief on his Chiefs’ faces. Shireena’s jaw dropped. Haas studied it like a technician; did she know ahead of time? Roe and Graygone offered no reaction.

  “Back up,” Trevor said. “Admiral, did I hear you right? You’re going to deploy two hundred thousand?”

  “Give or take a few hundred.”

  “How in ten hells will this work if we’re under attack by multiple ships with advanced intel?”

  “Easily answered.”

  The illustration shifted to show Trevor’s exact scenario. Ten ships entered the narrow Exclusion Zone, pushing toward both spaceports. Instantly, the web shifted, with the drones along the zone’s perimeter closing in ahead of the advance to block the attackers. As the enemy neared, the outer drones sealed off the rear flanks. Then Trevor saw another wave of activity he never imagined.

  The station fired on the trapped enemy.

  “What am I looking at? Are those mounted turrets?”

  “They are. The second phase of our operation will install guided particle missiles above the spaceports. What the singularity bombs do not vaporize, the missiles will. Combined with our upgraded tracking network, Amity will never be safer.”

  Trevor saw it another way.

  “Amity will be an armed encampment.”

  “It has been for years, Governor. The difference now? It will be impregnable.”

  Barukh spoke up.

  “Looks like you narrowed the transit vectors.”

  “Only by two degrees. We’ll make sure every spaceport and registered commercial vessel is informed of the change before we activate the web.”

  Barukh shook his head and asked the question that also burned a hole through Trevor.

  “What happens if a commercial vessel miscalculates and comes out of worm off course?”

  Nagano shrugged.

  “Barring an act of piloting mastery, it will be vaporized. The drones and turrets will use the UNF’s rotating friend/foe beacon to distinguish our ships from all others.”

  “Excuse me?” Trevor said. “All non-UNF vessels will be targeted by the web?”

  Nagano nodded as if it were obvious.

  “We don’t share UNF authentication protocols with commercial ships. Begging for disaster is not in our best interest.”

  Trevor was Governor, but he did not have say over the station’s defense. The Charter granted full authority to the UNF. He deferred to the one person who could overrule the Admiralty.

  “Madam President, I object. This plan is too dangerous.”

  She nodded, but Trevor knew the difference between a Haas nod of assent and one that said, “Thank you for your input.”

  “Governor, I’ve spoken to the Admiralty at length about this proposal. High Admiral Woolsey signed off on it, and I am convinced the UNF will enact sufficient safeguards. The truth is, they need their warships elsewhere. Deploying two less ships here better allocates resources. As Adm. Nagano said, this plan solves two problems.”

  Instinct told Trevor to fight back. Haas sounded like the woman who Devonshire warned him about. Nagano, Graygone, and Roe seemed positively conspiratorial with their matching stoic features and hands crossed on the table.

  Trevor caught himself and asked the next practical question.

  “When?”

  “Transports will arrive in twelve standard hours with the drones,” Nagano said. “We will begin deployment tomorrow. The operation will be completed in three days. The Guardian fleet will depart when the web activates, replaced by another ship with a fresh crew. We’ll begin installing the turrets shortly thereafter.”

  Trevor held his temper in check.

  They’ve been planning this for months.

  “Any other items on your agenda, Admiral?” Nagano shook his head. “Madam President. Any items?”

  “Nothing on the security front, Governor.”

  “Fine. If no one has an objection ...” He waited for his Chiefs to protest, but they knew this change was out of their hands. “I’m going to call this meeting adjourned, but I request to speak with the Admiral and the President in private.”

  His men in red and silver complied, along with Shireena, Graygone, and the Chiefs of Staff. However, SI’s representative did not budge.

  “I’m sorry, Carson. Did you misunderstand? Please leave.”

  She took umbrage but delivered it with a chuckle and muttered under her breath, “It’s your station.”

  After she left, Nagano said:

  “Keep it short. I’m not interested in your protracted objections.”

  Trevor fell back on his old stand-by: Paranoia.

  “What’s this all about?” He asked. “You’re hiding behind the attack to justify these changes. What’s actually going on here?”

  Nagano deferred to Haas, who replied with a soft tone.

  “Trevor, it will be an adjustment, but we’ll get through it. We’re preparing for the dangerous road ahead.”

  “Which is what?”

  She allowed the Admiral to take over.

  “You’re an outstanding Governor. I’m surprised to say it, but there it is. Focus on running this station. President Haas will manage the government. The UNF will do the rest. Between the three of us, I’m sure we can navigate our way through a challenging future. But never assume your influence extends beyond your office. Madam President, I have places to be. If you’ll excuse me.”

  Nagano didn’t wait for Trevor’s objection. Haas watched him leave and kept her eyes on the door.

  “Do your job, Trevor,” she said without conviction. “The rest will take care of itself.”

  “The rest of what?”

  She didn’t answer, leaving Trevor alone. He stood there just long enough to reconsider his greatest insecurity.

  No, Trevor wasn’t a fraud. That wasn’t the problem after all.

  A different truth hit him broadside.

  He was their pawn.

  11

  WHEN TREVOR TOOK POSSESSION of the Governor’s office, his new Chief of Staff offered advice.

  “Take an hour to appreciate your new lot in life,” Andreas said. “Put your feet up. Smoke a cigar. Sip a bourbon.”

  “Why?”

  “After today, you’ll be too exhausted. At times, you’ll wish you’d never seen the inside of this office.”

  Trevor didn’t take his advice. Time proved Andreas correct.

  Now, on Day 63 of his term, Trevor asked Andreas to ensure a quiet hour. No business of any kind. He tapped into the fringe benefits of his job. He poured a glass of the most expensive bourbon in the galactic sector and wondered why Murrill didn’t abscond with it on his way out the door. He lit the fattest cigar in the office humidor.

  He reclined on the couch, plopped his feet on an ottoman, and blew smoke rings.

  And shut off his brain to an endless cycle of distractions. The voices of politicians, accountants, lawmen, corporate execs, and the Enzathi: Time to go away.

  Trevor navigated a simpler path. He lined up selective moments – especially those he once shunted aside – and saw patterns emerge in twisting clouds of smoke.

  He felt like a deputy again. Curious, tenacious, fastidious.

  Focused.

  Had he been a fool? Of course. He saw the clues at every turn, but the job conveyed him headlong like a train without a destination. It moved so fast, Trevor had no time to comprehend the truth.

  Now, with each puff of the cigar, he found insight, shame, and a touch of helplessness.

  He didn’t hear footsteps from behind but tensed when a pair of hands pressed down on his shoulders.

  “Andreas told me not to enter,” Shireena said. “He insisted you wanted no visitors.”

  Trevor scoffed.

  “He knows you’re the exception. I’ll remind him again.”

  His shoulders loosened as she dug into them.

  “I haven’t seen you smoke in ages, love. What’s going on?”

  “You saw what happened in there.”

  “I waited outside. I expected yelling.”

  Shireena joined him on the couch and sniffed the liquor.

  “Bourbon from Qasi. Talk to me, Trev.”

  Where to begin? The day he should’ve known all this was too good to be true? Trevor pulled on the cigar.

  “My first few years as a deputy, I smoked all the time. I carried a digipipe with me. A quick puff here and there. Thought I needed it, or I’d go off the rails. I was wired. Hardly ever slept.”

  “What changed?”

  “Effie. Ana. I still had a short fuse, but they kept me grounded.”

  She sipped the bourbon and clenched her teeth afterward.

  “Quite a kick. You like this?”

  “Not really. Used to drink like a madman, too. I couldn’t keep up with Connor, but I damn well tried.”

  He long ago told her about his previous drinking problem, though never how bad it got.

  “I’ll admit,” she said, “I was worried when you took this job. I wondered if it was smart having all these bottles so near.”

  “I never drink alone. I offer my guests. If they accept, I join them. Today’s a first.”

  “Why? You’re clearly not celebrating, love.”

  “Huh. Maybe I am. Revelation doesn’t come along often.”

  “Revelation? About what?”

  Trevor gazed at a framed wide shot of Amity under construction. The former Ark Carriers weren’t yet linked by the Crossway. He pointed his cigar toward it.

  “We made do without warships for fifteen years. The UNF kept a small cruiser on patrol to cite WTZ violators. Both spaceports managed an emergency response team in case of an accident. No one threatened Amity. If people didn’t like government policy, they flew here and protested. End of story.