Phil had finally met the man in person.
Emperor Adric Kerenski of the Gloran reminded Phil of a cobra waiting to strike.
His hair was the color of obsidian, shoulder-length and worn in a practical, severe style that went with his beard and mustache, both graying. He had a lean, muscular build that reminded Phil of Jirou Kugosu, the Dalou Shogun and the kind of tanned skin you usually only got from working under real sunlight.
The preeminent warrior of an entire culture of warriors.
At the same time, he didn’t give off the same vibes as the Shogun. Partly, Phil put that down to age, as Kerenski was nearly twenty years older than Kugosu, and had been in power for long enough to be secure. He didn’t even carry a blade on his hip other than the short one that everyone from Gloran seemed to be issued on their twelfth birthday. Not that Phil intended to ask.
True to his word, they were standing around, chatting. Heather had wandered off like she would. Aliza was working the crowd on the other side of the room, where important locals wishing to get on her list could make appointments. Gloran understood that a lot of trade was due to be flowing into and through Vilahana soon. They didn’t want to miss out. Harinder had even wandered off somewhere.
Phil and Dar, standing at a polite distance from Kerenski and Miliya Gavraba. Phil’s Command Diplomatic Centurion for Gloran had been one of the first delivered and credentialed. Mostly because Heather’s work at Vilahana had impressed the hell out of folks.
As a result, Miliya was dressed more like a local than an Aquitaine diplomat. Still in black pants and shoes, but her tunic had been redone in leather, with the ubiquitous chain mail mesh added to make her fit in more with Gloran folks.
She was not, presently, wearing a knife. Visibly.
Markus had vanished like he did after delivering a can of juice. It was really the three of them, as Dar was merely present because that was her job.
“I have read many reports, Kosnett,” Kerenski began during one of those lulls in conversation that happened when interesting topics ranged wide enough.
And the Gloran Emperor wasn’t some dull warrior who only talked forms and battles. He had a good working understanding of literature and music, however limited it was to mostly Gloran sources. Still, Phil had some notes for orchestral recording that he might send to St. Legier, where Casey would have a chance to listen.
She was all about music as a diplomatic tool. One of the most powerful in the universe.
Phil waited for the Emperor to complete his thought.
“What was it that made you decide to come to Carinae II before Derragon?” Kerenski asked.
“The need to solve a crime,” Phil said, treating the man as something of an equal.
It was messy, trying to figure things out, but Gloran didn’t maintain mathematically-precise gradations of rank, like Dalou did. Or used to.
“A crime?”
“The colony below us was attacked,” Phil gestured to the floor plates. “Functionally destroyed. The perpetrators got away. For now.”
“For now?” Kerenski asked, one eyebrow going up.
“For now,” Phil agreed. “One of the reports I received suggested that almost all of the men accounted for were dead. Women between the ages of about twelve and forty were not. That suggests things that I find so distasteful that Aquitaine wanted to offer you the services of my squadron and my officers to help. Someone needs to pay an exceedingly painful bill for that behavior.”
Kerenski blinked, possibly surprised at the vehemence in Phil’s voice, but it couldn’t be helped.
“I might add,” Phil said. “If you look at my senior officers, the gender balance leans slightly towards the female in overall squadron numbers, but especially so aboard my flagship. Capturing women for whatever nefarious purposes as the evidence might suggest…”
He left it hanging. They had circumstantial evidence already. Nothing sufficient to hang someone from a yardarm. Enough, perhaps, to suggest who needed to be talked to.
“And what would Aquitaine do to such personages?” Kerenski asked.
“Put them to death,” Phil said simply. “We don’t have a large number of capital crimes. Slavery and treason make up most of them. Attacking unarmed planets as well.”
“St. Legier,” the Emperor of Gloran nodded.
“I’ve walked the surface in the aftermath of that attack, Your Majesty,” Phil nodded back. “There are places where they will permanently leave the damage to slowly decay over time. There are a few memorials where entire buildings were constructed over them as hollow shells, just so the ruins do not weather and decay. In the ancient times, Sentient warfleets bombarded undefended worlds and came very close to annihilating the species. Aquitaine sees itself as a civilizing force, but we never forget where we came from. Even the Librarian at Alexandria Station is a songbird in a gilded cage, for all the assistance she had rendered in helping humanity rebuild in the modern age.”
“My advisors suggest that you travel with a warship of the Hamath Syndicate,” Kerenski offered obliquely, showing Phil just how subtle and dangerous the man could be, if they somehow got things so turned around as to be on opposite sides of the table.
“Former Hamath Syndicate, Emperor Kerenski,” Phil emphasized with just a little steel in his voice. “I personally asked Captain Ward to form a new company dedicated to communication between capitals, because I felt that such a thing was both lacking and necessary. Many of the ships she has subsequently hired might have worked for Hamath in the past, but all have sworn off their piratical past and accepted citizenship of Meerut and the general amnesty that all the major nations agreed to.”
“And you brought her here, why?” Kerenski asked, answering steel with steel.
“Because she knows all the players in Hamath, Your Majesty,” Phil smiled coldly. “And assures me that all of them are accounted for. That, in fact, none of the known Hamath warships could have done such a thing, at least in the timeframe indicated.”
The man rocked back, a bit confused.
“Who, then?” Kerenski asked.
“That, Your Majesty, is exactly what I desire to know,” Phil answered. “If we discount Hamath, and I am willing at first approximation to do such a thing, then it might still be one of the other Syndicates, as not all of them melted in the aftermath of First Meerut. Or someone else.”
“Oh?” Kerenski perked right up.
Ambassador Gavraba had been silent until now. She leaned forward enough to draw eyes her direction. Phil wondered if she had managed to charm the War-Captain into being elsewhere, or if the Emperor had ordered it, as the man had made initial introductions, then left to talk to others.
Phil hadn’t had a chance to prep the woman. Nor work with her all that much because she had been on station for much of the last year, making connections and smoothing things.
“Would the eyes of relative outsiders make it easier, Your Majesty?” Miliya asked now.
He turned to her and Phil saw the trust and communications that had built up over her time.
“You suspect a trap?” he asked. “Something designed to appear as a thing, because Gloran could be counted on to open fire first, and maybe forget to ask questions later?”
“Not how I would have phrased it, Your Majesty,” she answered with a sly grin. “At the same time, most outsiders have a limited understanding of Gloran culture upon which to make such calculations. They might be counting on the fact that you are not primarily recognized for your guile and subtlety.”
Kerenski grinned.
“Muscle-headed punks, Ambassador?” he asked.
“I’m sure you have a few in your fleet, Emperor,” she nodded. “And perhaps among your advisors. More the fools for the rest of the galaxy to underestimate you.”
Phil was impressed. Gloran wasn’t as utterly chauvinistic as Ewin or even Dalou, but sending a female ambassador had been a calculated risk on his part. That ten percent of their officers meant that the warriors of Gloran did recognize capability.
Miliya was playing to the man’s vanity and intellect, but doing so in an obvious way that was flattering without condescending. And it seemed to be just the right touch.
Kerenski smiled at her, then extended it to Phil.
“What do you know or suspect, that you have not been able or willing to communicate generally, First Centurion?” he asked.
That took Phil’s breath away. Very few politicians he’d ever met could make such an immediate, intuitive leap. And when they did, it was usually the paranoia speaking.
Phil couldn’t help but glance both directions, but nobody was close. Dar and Markus assured that.
Still…
“My senior staff contains a variety of experts, Your Majesty,” Phil understated. “During a discussion of piracy, we posited a set of theories about their potential behavior, primarily before the raid on Carinae II. Based on those, we suspect that it might be possible to find more concrete evidence about the identity of the attackers, presuming that, as you noted, things left on the ground might be planted in order to cast suspicion on Hamath.”
“Go on,” Kerenski had gotten perfectly still. His voice had taken on the kinds of menace that Phil recognized from Khan, when the Cruiser-Captain got focused down on the job of killing things.
“I would like to move a portion of my squadron over to the fourth world in this system,” Phil said. “From there, I have three vessels with extremely sensitive survey capabilities, far beyond anything anyone in the Cluster is currently fielding. We intend to look there.”
“You think they hid in the shadow of Four while scouting?” Kerenski asked. “I wondered why your scanners were paying such close attention, when the reports came in.”
Phil nodded. Truly, a dangerous player, if he’d seen what everyone else had, and gotten that close to figuring it out.
Good thing they were all on the same side here. Gloran might not have the reputation for military capabilities that some of the others did, but they had a sharper leader than anybody else Phil had met so far.
Even the Shogun. While Kugosu was a capable leader, he had previously been surrounded by a cadre of older advisors that hadn’t generally impressed Phil. Excepting Tane Eiton, Consigliere and generally scary badass, even into his seventies.
Adric Kerenski was smarter. And had the patience of an ambush predator. Phil upgraded the man in his estimations, just on that one observation.
“We believe they might have hid there, Your Majesty,” Phil said. “However, we couldn’t be sure of anything until we visited. And didn’t necessarily want everyone traipsing over there, where they might destroy evidence, however accidentally.”
“Or intentionally?” Kerenski growled.
“My exposure to the Gloran fleet is largely limited to Cruiser-Captain Adham Khan, who has done an exceptional job as part of the force,” Phil replied. “But somebody attacked this world. Tried to destroy it. Planted evidence suggesting Hamath Syndicate did it. That is not a task I would personally undertake without first gaining significant useful intelligence on the target. In layman’s terms, I would suspect a leak, at the very minimum.”
“Or a traitor?” Kerenski pressed.
“There is a new Cluster being born, Your Majesty,” Phil reminded the man. “Many of the people it has been my pleasure to meet have embraced that potential with both arms. A few have resisted, violently twice at Meerut. I do not know your culture or your Imperium well enough to accurately judge if the attackers might have had inside help. Nor do I discount it. We intend to follow the clues and find the pirates. They might tell us even more.”
Another lull in conversation. Kerenski watching. Ambassador Gavraba watching. Phil watching.
“Urumchi is a Survey Dreadnought, correct?” the Emperor finally asked. “The one with the best sensors to find whatever it is you expect?”
“That is correct,” Phil agreed. “We might list it as a training exercise. Or merely me pulling all of my ships out of orbit of Two so that you are free to focus your efforts on the ground and orbit. What would be of the most assistance to the Gloran Empire?”
“Find me the truth, First Centurion,” Kerenski ordered.
“I will do what I can,” Phil offered.