“THESE ARE ALL the readings?”

“I requested every scan from every ship during the event. Even two independent cargo freighters.” Dar’Jeryd hands over a data crystal.

“And the analyst?” Kantian asks.

“It’s an unknown ship configuration. Even the hyperspace envelope was manifested by an advanced engine system. We have nothing to match it.”

“And there is no record of this ship in any UCP system?” Kantian asks.

“Summersun. After the battle it was registered in orbit,” Dar’Jeryd reports.

“Trace it. I want any and all locations,” Kantian demands.

“Admiral?”

“Yes, Dar’Jeryd?”

“You have developed a new level of conviction since achieving command.”

“And you want to know what boosted my motivation?”

“I’ll follow you anywhere, Sir.”

“I’ve no doubt Admiral Maxtin employs mercenaries to retrieve valuable information needed to defend against the Mokarran. Any high-placed government official will employ a spy network. The UCP officially would never sanction an Intelligence Agency.”

“You have you own network, Sir.”

“As does Admiral Easter and the other three Vice Admirals. What I want is proof of Maxtin’s under the table dealings.”

“You’d expose them to the public?” Dar’Jeryd asks.

“Never. The security of the UCP is paramount. But I would offer to expose Maxtin’s agents to force his support for war against the Mokarran.”

“You would impeach the Admiral?”

“I’d rather have the support. Hardcore evidence would sway him to justify a change of stance on war.”

“You still need the votes of the other three Admirals,” Dar’Jeryd says.

“They are puppets. They follow Maxtin.”

“Then may I suggest we gather dirt on them. Push them into voting for war,” Dar’Jeryd says.

“I’ve considered the option, but Maxtin is the swing vote. Bring him down, and the others follow. They support Maxtin enough to resign before voting against him.”

“Their replacements might favor war.”

“Still a gamble. I want Maxtin to stand up and openly request war,” Kantian says.

The personal commlink to Admiral Easter chirps.

Reluctant, Kantian presses the button.

“Admiral Kantian?”

He responds to the unrecognized voice. “Affirmative. Who are you on Easter’s private comm system?”

“Medical Technicon Danvers, Sir. The Admiral was found unresponsive. We’ve revived her, but—”

Kantian knows what the report yields. “Spit it out, son.”

“She requests you report immediately, Sir. She is slipping, and if she fades again, I doubt we’ll be able to restore her breathing.”

Kantian’s own voice shakes as much as the medical tech’s. Selfishly, he doesn’t want to lose the valuable advice of his mentor. At the same time his preparations to win her office are not complete.

••••••

TRAPPED BY TUBES attached to arm veins and covering orifices, a frail woman, wrinkled to a husk, remains in a nightmarish picture at the end of life. Emaciated fingers claw at the facemask. She drags it away from her mouth.

“Admiral, the lack of the oxygen breathing mixture will cause you to choke on the fluids building in your lungs.”

“A few minutes of lingering life only forces unnecessary pain on me,” she coughs. Unrolling her fingers to reveal a cherry crystal. “A final gift to you.”

Kantian takes the oddly shaped crystal. He’s never seen a computer port accepting of the machine-ground tip, allowing him to read the information it contains.

Easter coughs. The medical techs rush to replace the mask.

“No,” she protests.

“Get away from her.” Kantian pockets the crystal before shoving a tech away from the bed. “Let her go.”

When the ear-wrenching cough ceases, Vice-presidential Admiral Wendy Easter slumps against her pillows, burbles a last breath and dies.