'I know what you're all thinking,' Markov said. 'You're thinking who the hell is this?'
'No, no,' Lance began.
Beside him, Commander Jim Parker nodded. 'You said it.' His pink-red eyes gazed up at an odd angle towards the ceiling, and his white hair and pale skin made him the odd one out in the room. He smiled, and blinked slower than Markov had ever seen anyone blink before. The other commanders shrugged off his comment and mumbled to each other under their breaths.
Markov watched Parker. It was obvious that he was an albino, but he was also an implant. Neural implants had been surgically installed inside his head to enable him to interface directly with the systems of Central Command. He didn't need a console to give orders or to find out information, and he didn't need to look where he was going to know where he was. That was why his eyes sometimes gave him the appearance of a blind man, even though he could see just as well as anyone else. Implants were permanently connected to so many sources of information that their eyes were sometimes considered secondary senses. Markov had read about them, but he had met few implants in his life. They were still a relatively knew phenomena to him. He read all the crew profiles. There were now more implants in Central Command than ever before. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.
Lance was an implant too. Markov hadn't noticed until he turned around, revealing a grey bulge at the base of his skull. How many more did he have to worry about? He had read so many profiles on his inbound flight. They were all beginning to blend into one. Melanie Rocker was an implant, as were Raymond Dorran and Beth Pain. None of them were sitting next to each other. Markov wondered whether that was because they couldn't get along together, or because they were so closely integrated that their physical locations didn't matter anymore. Dorran looked as though he might be asleep but he would be a hundred times more alert than any normal officer, regardless of his expression. Where was Andrew Gosling? Markov couldn't see him in the room. He would have to check up on him later.
It was time to say what he had come to say. The commanders' reactions to his words would tell him all that he needed to know. 'You can call me General Alexander Markov. I know my details were sent to you all an hour ago, so it shouldn't be too much of a surprise that I'm here. I arrived on the Albatross a few minutes ago, fresh from the Southern Territories. I was summoned by command of Lord Colloran Hades.'
A few of the Commanders turned pale. Others looked as though they had forgotten what they were about to say.
'The Albatross?' Penning said, her green eyes twinkling in the bright overhead lights. She stretched her slender fingers across the table and tilted her head to one side, revealing a long slim neck.
'Some of you I have met before,' Markov said. 'Commander Rodnig, Commander Harris...' Markov looked around the table, searching for more familiar faces, but he wasn't sure about most of the others. 'It's been four years since I stepped foot in the White Spear, so it's going to take me a little time to get accustomed to this place again. It's a lot prettier than the Southern Territories, I can tell you that much. There aren't any marble floors and crystal tables down there.'
Harris laughed. Some of the other Commanders exchanged puzzled looks.
'I've been leading operations in the Southern Territories for considerably longer than the average life expectancy. It's a very different life than any of you will have experienced. The quarters are beyond basic. The food is appalling. The equipment is old and unreliable. Most of it has been repaired so many times that it's hard to tell what it was to start with. Alma Station is a hostile, inhospitable place. The crew turnover is high. You will not find a more dangerous place to work in the Orange Zone. Good men and women die there every day. For those of you who do not know, Alma Station was built to monitor the worst of the fless caves, to offer an early warning system for Central Command. We need to know quickly if the fless should ever return again. Because of Alma Station, the people of Cinnamon City are able to live a normal existence, blissfully unaware of the problems of the past. People forget quickly. They go about their cosy lives not realising that the security they enjoy comes at a heavy price. Whatever problems you may think you have here, in the polished corridors of the White Spear, with your soft bunks and spacious quarters, I can tell you now that they don't come anywhere close to what the crew of Alma Station have to put up with twenty-four hours a day.'
Several of the commanders looked as though they were about to speak, but Markov wasn't finished yet, not by a long way. He continued before they had a chance to voice their concerns.
'Thompson let things get slack around here. I want to make it clear to you all right now. If any of you don't give me your full support and cooperation, I'll have you transferred to Alma Station on the next cargo drone.'
'General...' Lance began.
'I'm not here to ask for favours,' Markov said. 'I'm not here to make friends. Thompson opened the door to corruption. I'm going to close that door. She welcomed traitors into our midst. I will seek and destroy them. She brought shame to our once great organisation, but all that's going to change now that I'm back. We're all going to work together to make this happen. Do I make myself clear?'
The Commanders exchanged concerned looks.
'I said, do I make myself clear?'
'Yes, General.'
A few of the commanders muttered curses under their breath. Markov had one advantage that they didn't know about. His hearing had been damaged by an explosion in the fless caves a few years back. The medics had neglected to ask his permission before fitting artificial cochlea implants. At the time, Markov had been furious. He had never wanted any kind of implants. The medics should have waited for his authorisation before carrying out the procedure, but the implants had proved useful on several occasions since. He tapped his thumb against his wrist console, increasing the sensitivity of his hearing implants. Even the softest whisper would now be picked up and enhanced by the implant's algorithms.
'Arrogant bastard,' Bryce Donald whispered to his right.
Harris mumbled something about laying it on thick.
The mood in the room had swung from expectation to resentment. Markov let it pass. So be it. They needed to know that things were going to change. Thompson had let things slide too far. He couldn't allow that to continue. There were other reasons they needed to be put on their back foot too. Sometimes you had to shake the apple tree to see what fell out.
Commander Drefnig leant forwards on his elbows, his long brown hair falling forwards as he spoke. 'General. You have my loyalty, but there's something you should know.'
Markov folded his arms and watched Drefnig across the table with an even gaze. 'Tell me.'
'There's been a lot of rumours flying around. You know how it can be around here. Many people are asking what happened to Gail Thompson. Not everyone liked her. She had her own ways of doing things, but she was our Admiral, and we'd like to know what happened to her.'
Several of the other commanders nodded around the table. Susan Kemp narrowed her eyes. Parker still stared at the ceiling, his cheek twitching like a fresh corpse.
'Nobody has told us anything since the day she disappeared,' Drefnig said. 'A diplomat said that he saw Lord Hades taking her away, but we were given no more information than that. We realise that there are investigations going on, but it if the chain of command is to be changed, we really need to know what exactly it is that she did. Loose ends have a nasty way of tangling around our own feet.'
'Is she under arrest?' Penning said, her ponytail swinging behind her head as she turned to face the other commanders, gauging their reactions.
Markov kept his expression neutral. 'The diplomat was correct,' he said. 'Lord Hades has taken her.' He had been expecting this. The commanders were bound to want to know what had happened to her.
Drefnig sat back, his face a web of confusion.
Beside him, Penning frowned, her thin eyebrows coming together above her delicate, freckled nose. 'Why?' she said. 'What did she do?'
Markov grunted in the back of his throat. 'It's not for us to question Lord Hades' decisions, Commander Penning. He's taken her and that's that. She will not be returning.'
'What did she do?' Commander David Warrel said. His thin moustache was oiled flat against his face like a squashed creature from the caves.
Markov held up his hand to hold back any further questions. 'I understand that you may have questions about Gail Thompson, but you need to also understand that I'm here to replace her. I'm not here to explain where she is or why she was taken away. So far, I have only seen a few of the reports about her, but I'll be studying many more in detail over the coming weeks. My focus will be to uncover what she has been doing for the last few years, and to repair the damage that she has caused to the people, systems and infrastructure of Central Command.'
'Can't you at least tell us something?' Commander Susan Kemp said. 'We're not droids. We need to understand the reasoning behind the decisions that affect us all.'
'What I can tell you,' Markov said. 'Is that she betrayed us all. Many good men and women are dead because of her. She murdered people who stood in her path. She distorted the purpose of Central Command to meet her own needs. She infected our systems with Kamari viruses, and then falsified evidence to cover her own tracks.'
Harris shook his head, rubbing one hand through his black, grey streaked beard. 'I didn't like Thompson much,' he said, 'but that sounds like a lot of blame to be heaping on someone who's not here to defend themselves. Are we sure about all this?'
'Of course we're sure,' Markov said. 'It is beyond doubt. She did these things of her own free will. Nobody held an impact pistol to her head. She made her own decisions, and she put all of your lives at risk to pursue her own misguided goals. Whatever you think she was, forget it. She lied to you, and now she's gone. Lord Hades will deal with her. It's not our job to worry about what happens to Gail Thompson. It's our job to put right all the mess that she has left behind. We need to shake off the corruption and lethargy that has crept into Central Command. We need to turn it around. I expect all of you to do your part. Put Gail Thompson out of your minds. I'm the only person that you need to worry about now, and I expect your full cooperation.'
Around the table, a range of expressions stared back at him. Anger, disbelief, confusion and contempt. Markov was under no delusion. It was going to be the hardest job of his life to turn Central Command around and put it back on the right track, but he knew what he had to do. He intended to start immediately. He just hoped that the men and women staring back at him would make his task easier rather than more difficult. Some of them would be more difficult to deal with than others. Some of them must have known what Thompson was doing. Either they had been complicit in her actions, or they had turned a blind eye to corruption on every level. He would have to take them all on, one by one, and get them into line. He was looking forward to it.
Markov got to his feet, doing his best to ignore the range of hostile expressions that were directed towards him. Several commanders had unspoken words on their lips. For now, they held their peace. He didn't wait for them to rise to their feet. Instead, he turned and walked towards the door.
Mr. Donald was waiting outside with the same neutral expression that he had been wearing previously. He had the look of a man who had seen many things and had no comment to make about any of them.
'Take me to my quarters,' Markov said.
Donald nodded and led the way.