24

Kanchenjunga Fortress was the centerpiece of Samuels’s defenses, an eleven-kilometer-wide asteroid fortress bristling with over a thousand heavy-cannon turrets. Against its bulk, Deception and Huntress were toys.

Like many asteroid fortresses, Kanchenjunga acted as a counterweight to an orbital elevator. A civilian station hung at geostationary orbit, underneath the battle station’s protective umbrella.

Anchored on the elevator cable between the civilian station and the fortress, Samuels’s new nova-warship yards were taking shape. The yards added another layer of traffic to an already-busy portion of Bennet’s orbital space.

From Deception’s flag deck, Kira could track every individual shuttle, in-system transport and work pod. Hundreds of pale green tracks flickered across the background of her mental view.

“Your call is incoming, boss,” Smolak told her. “An Em Batsal Tapadia?”

“Mr. Tapadia, as Samuels classes things,” Kira observed, but it wasn’t even a correction. Even she was a bit confused by having different honorifics for different people. Only unmarried people used Em there, where Kira was used to that being the standard for everyone without a formal title.

“Right,” the coms officer confirmed. “Director of Space Operations, Samuels-Tata Technologies. I’m guessing the man behind our shipyards over there?”

“I hope so,” Kira said drily. “Or the wrong person is calling. Put him through.”

The holoprojectors on the flag deck flickered and formed an image of an unfamiliar man. Like his spouse, Batsal Tapadia clearly spent a good chunk of his spare time in a gym. Unlike Buxton, Tapadia didn’t have towering height to go with his broad shoulders and barrel-like muscled torso, resulting in a more pug-ish impression.

The dark-skinned businessman’s smile was wide and felt genuine as he bowed to Kira.

“Em Demirci, I appreciate you taking my call,” he told her.

“The request did come from the First Minister’s office,” she said drily. “My current employer, until the contract runs out.”

“I know, but I suspect you will shortly find yourself besieged with calls,” Tapadia warned. “If you aren’t already. There are parties being thrown in your honor, and people will want you to attend them all.”

“I will have to attend some of them,” Kira admitted. “That’s the nature of the game. But I also need to prioritize the actual job, Mr. Tapadia, which means talking to the shipbuilders and soldiers.

“And, strangely, no one has actually put me in touch with Samuels Defense Command.”

Tapadia chuckled sadly.

“That is on us,” he conceded. “And mostly due to an unrelated tragedy: General Rajesh Nibhanupudi was in hospital when you were visiting the First Minister and, unfortunately, passed away shortly before your ships novaed out to clear the blockade.

“Which of the SDC’s handful of junior flag officers will replace him is currently being discussed—but who their senior civilian contractor is, on the other hand, won’t change.” Tapadia shrugged. “So, they asked me to talk to you to open up at least some channels of conversation.”

“My condolences. What happened to the General?” Kira asked. Given some of the players in her affairs, she was always worried by unusual deaths. Her old Apollon CO had died of a “brain aneurysm” that had been anything but.

“Heart attack,” Tapadia said. “My understanding is that his wife called an ambulance and they got to him in time to save him from the first one…and then he had another one in hospital, and the doctors couldn’t keep him going long enough for a replacement to be implanted.”

“Despite all of our knowledge, the human body is still a fragile thing,” Kira said. Almost anything could be cured, given time, medicine or even cybernetic replacements—Kira herself, for example, had a rare and deadly blood disorder managed by an implant on her spleen—but time was key.

“Agreed. And the human political structure even more so,” the businessman said drily. “In a perfect world, General Nibhanupudi’s successor would have been known before he died. We do not live in a perfect world, and we have sixteen junior flag officers in the SDC.”

He shrugged.

“Four of the Commodores and two of the Brigadiers are in the running to replace him,” he continued. “Buxton could just pick one, but tradition says the flag officers agree on a candidate and present them to the First Minister unanimously.”

“Sounds like a peacetime promotion mechanism,” Kira pointed out. She could see the value—but it also called for a degree of negotiating and discussion that was going to take time. Time in which the SDC wasn’t going to have anyone who could actually work with her.

“I need someone to communicate with, Mr. Tapadia,” she told him. “Today. Not in six weeks. Not in three months, when Colossus reestablishes their blockade and you still don’t have nova ships of your own.

“SDC has nova fighters, at the very least,” she continued. “I need to know the full extent of their resources. I need to be able to coordinate with those resources.”

She shook her head.

“It is not my place to tell my employer what to do,” she said. “But I would strongly recommend that the First Minister does just ‘pick one,’ as you put it. While we have bought Samuels breathing room, you remain at war.”

“I know,” Tapadia murmured. “But we are not…” He shook his head. “You understand, Admiral, that our military is drawn almost entirely from a handful of regional subcultures, yes?”

“Macey and Buxton explained that to me, yes,” Kira said. “I’m not sure I see your point. You are…Gorkhali, wasn’t it?…yourself, correct?”

“I am,” Tapadia confirmed. “Culturally, at least. My family joined the Interstellar Society of Friends several generations ago, and I am, personally, a pacifist like most Quakers.” He smiled.

“I am also, like many historical members of assorted iterations of the Society, a pragmatist and a businessman. The construction of a defensive fleet is absolutely critical to the survival of Samuels in our current form, so I have taken on that task for my employer and the government of my system.”

“And the fact that it’s a massive contract offered by your spouse…” Kira let that hang.

“Both Buxton and I completely recused ourselves from both the decision-making and the negotiations around this contract,” Tapadia said calmly. “But I was the best candidate to lead the construction project itself.”

“Fair enough,” Kira replied. “My apologies.”

“Unnecessary. It was a legitimate concern.” He made a dismissive gesture. “But as to my point, Admiral, the fact that the SDC is the primary…cultural touchpoint, let’s say, for a number of cultures and regions that are otherwise sufficiently minor to be considered unorthodox creates certain pressures on the Ministries to be more hands-off than is perhaps wise.

“The First Minister and the civilian government are unquestionably in charge of the SDC, but it is often allowed to choose a lot of its own leadership and protocols. For the Minister to pick a leader for the Defense Command without the consent of the rest of the flag officers would be seen as an imposition by the majority populace on what is, bluntly, effectively a military caste.”

She sighed.

“I’m not responsible for your internal politics, demographics or crises,” she warned. “I am responsible for defending your system against the Colossus Nova Wing, a task for which I need the SDC’s assistance.”

“And that is why I am in contact with you,” Tapadia told her. “While it would be inappropriate for, say, the commanding officer of the SDC’s Nova Fighter Division to have a one-on-one meeting with you while she is merely one candidate for the command of the SDC…there is nothing inappropriate about me inviting you to a private dinner at my quarters aboard Kanchenjunga Fortress.”

“To which said commanding officer may be invited?” Kira asked acerbically.

“Among others,” the local said calmly. “Frankly, Commodore Mahinder Bachchan is the most likely candidate to succeed Nibhanupudi. Commodore Devdas D’Cruze and Commodore Apurva Rao will also both join us.”

Kira raised an eyebrow.

“Commodore D’Cruze commands Kanchenjunga Fortress itself. Commodore Rao commands Everest Fortress, the second-largest defensive citadel. Commodore Maus, the CO of Fortress Division Haven, is the fourth candidate for command of the SDC from the spaceborne forces—but is, of course, currently at Haven and approximately eighteen hours’ flight away.”

Tapadia shrugged.

“I advised Eugene of the meeting and he laughed at the invite,” the businessman noted. “While I cannot officially promise that any discussions around the capabilities of the SDC’s Nova Fighter Division will take place… Well, I suspect if I put that many soldiers in a room, some shop talk will happen inevitably.”

Kira sighed. It was a good thing she’d made sure to have a spare dress uniform tunic with her aboard Deception. It sounded like she was going to be spending even more time at parties than she thought, if there wouldn’t be an official link with the SDC for a few weeks.

“Should I bring a date?” she asked.

“Please, the Commodores are bringing their partners,” Tapadia confirmed. “Sadly, I will not—Buxton is a bit too busy to nip into space for dinner—but I would suggest you bring your partner and perhaps one of your ship Captains?”

“I’ll discuss it with my people,” Kira told him. “And then I will see you for dinner, Mr. Tapadia.”

“Thank you, Admiral. I know this is a pain, but tradition and the balance of power between our cultures is critical to Samuels.” He smiled. “Your patience is appreciated.”

“My patience, Mr. Tapadia, is expensive,” she replied. “But you are already paying for it, I suppose.”

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