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As Torma expected, the Commission’s Torrinos Group was lukewarm about investigating the Torrinos Eight antimatter refueling station manager. Whether it stemmed from the usual truculence at doing Wyvern HQ’s bidding or because of a coverup, he couldn’t tell. Even the State Security Commission, especially its groups in the three subordinate star systems, occasionally suffered from bouts of official corruption and needed cleansing from one of Major General Robbins’ teams.
Torma had done his share of those over the years. But short of traveling to Torrinos and making himself even more unpopular with his colleagues there, he couldn’t do much but wait for the inevitable inconclusive report. That meant his efforts to find the people who chartered Keter and his ship were likely doomed.
However, Torma’s unit didn’t lack for cases, and many days passed without a further word about the possibility of another advanced tech-producing human entity capable of faster-than-light and wormhole travel. It was as if his superiors had consigned the news to the nearest black hole. As instructed, he didn’t discuss the matter with anyone, not even Ardrix or Robbins. The subject never came up, and Torma wasn’t the type who indulged in idle conversation. After all, he was known as ‘Torma the Taciturn’ by his colleagues for a reason.
Unattached and with no living relatives, Torma occupied a senior officer’s suite in Guards Joint Forces Base New Draconis's accommodations section and took his evening meals in the officer’s mess where he usually ate alone. None of the Navy or Ground Forces officers of comparable rank were keen on socializing with a State Security Commission member. Moreover, the few Commission officers living on the base were junior to him. They thus kept their distance, not only because of Torma’s seniority but a reputation for ruthlessness few wished to test.
Rumors of his using the Void Sisters’ dark talents didn’t help, not when everyone in State Security HQ knew Sister Ardrix shared his office, although none dared whisper that she might also share his bed. That would be a step too far, one which could end promising careers, if not lives. Ardrix never set foot on Guards Joint Forces Base New Draconis, nor did Torma ever visit the abbey.
Thus, it came as a surprise when a Navy captain Torma never met before sat at his table in the dining room one evening without so much as a by your leave. Dark-haired, stocky, with deep-set brown eyes and a square face hewn from granite, he wore little more on his black uniform than gold rank insignia at the collar and a diamond-shaped device on his right chest marking him as a Navy Headquarters staffer. He carefully placed a full coffee cup on the linen-covered table and fixed an astonished Torma with emotionless eyes.
“My name is Ewing Saleh, Colonel. Apologies for intruding on your meal. I’m told you prefer solitude.”
“Whoever told you that was right.” Torma pushed his empty plate aside and pulled a steaming tea mug closer. “What is it you want, Captain? No offense, but only folks with a specific goal in mind accost me in public. It comes with being a State Security officer.”
His tone wasn’t unfriendly, but he kept a wary expression.
Saleh let a brief, wintry smile cross his face. “Hatshepsut.”
“If I recall correctly, that’s the name of a star system halfway between Wyvern and the old Coalsack Sector, which suffered the tender mercies of Dendera’s Retribution Fleet almost two centuries ago. What about it?”
“Perhaps I should have told you straight away I work for Admiral Godfrey on particularly sensitive files.” Saleh shrugged. “Chalk it up to habit. We rarely broadcast our branch affiliation. I’m sure you understand.”
Torma’s gaze never wavered, nor did his expression. He kept his eyes on Saleh and remained silent. It was an old interrogation technique. Some people felt a compulsion to speak, and, in their haste, they might let a tidbit slip. Saleh’s icy smile returned.
“Let’s just establish we’re fellow professionals who know a thing or two about digging up intelligence and leave it at that, shall we? I’m here at the admiral’s behest.”
Torma nodded once, then raised his cup for a sip of tea.
“And in that vein,” Saleh continued, “between your isolation in this corner of the mess, my field distorter and the one you surely carry as a matter of course, no one can hear us speak or read our lips. We’re as secure, if not more so, than in the Commission’s deepest dungeons.”
“Probably. We professional paranoids enjoy spying on each other. It keeps us honest. Or rather it keeps us more honest than most.” Torma’s eyes never left Saleh. “So, speak. If you know I’m a loner, you’ll also know I like taking a walk around the base before retiring to my quarters, and my need for fresh air is peaking. It stems from spending too much time in those deepest dungeons dealing with the enemies of the Hegemony and taking care I don’t trigger my colleagues’ paranoia.”
“Alongside the mysteriously terrifying Sister Ardrix.” He raised a restraining hand when it seemed as if Torma might protest at his characterization of her. “I’ll come to the point, Colonel. Admiral Godfrey is in discussions with senior officers about a covert naval expedition to Hatshepsut. The Ruling Council has little interest in matters beyond our sphere, but many within the Guards Corps feel otherwise. Something is out there, and we must know who and what that is. It comes under our oath to protect the Hegemony against all threats.”
Torma shrugged. “It concerns me how, exactly?”
“Word of this expedition will eventually find its way to the Regent’s ear, hopefully after it leaves Hegemony space.”
“And I’ll receive orders to arrest everyone the moment it returns. Thanks for the warning. Giving me the names of the starships involved would help even more. They’ll be quarantined when they come back, and I’ll need time to set that up. Then there are interrogations, followed by executions. General Robbins will go on a hiring spree, I suppose.” Torma took another sip of tea. “But if you work for Admiral Godfrey, you already know that. The Ruling Council forbids expeditions beyond the Hegemony’s star systems without its permission. And it hasn’t given permission in over a hundred years.”
Saleh’s faint smile returned. “That you know of.”
Torma inclined his head by way of acknowledgment.
“Granted.” The Hegemony government operated on a strict need to know and had done so since its creation atop the former empire's ruins. “Even though we of the Commission feign omniscience, our eyes can’t peer into every corner, nor do our ears pick up every little tidbit of treason.”
Saleh let out a brief bark of laughter.
“I never thought I’d see the day when a State Security officer admits his service is as flawed as the other two and not a present-day incarnation of the legendary Argus who saw everything. But you’re correct about our betters preferring the status quo to an uncertain outcome if we head into the unknown before the Hegemony Navy is unbeatable. And it will never become so, stasis being preferable to the socio-political turmoil that would result from expanding our horizons, the sort that might realign Wyvern’s power structure.”
Torma scoffed.
“And yet they forget history is replete with stories of societies in stasis collapsing the moment factors beyond their control disturb the balance.”
A broad grin spread across Saleh’s face.
“I was reliably informed you were clear-eyed enough to understand the wider implications of your findings, and you’ve proved my sources correct.”
“Sources being Major General Robbins and Rear Admiral Godfrey, no doubt.” Torma drained his mug. “Very well. Why don’t we cut the persiflage? You’ve made your point. I won’t entertain Chief Commissioner Bucco with this story. Tell me what you want.”
“The factions in the Navy putting together the covert expedition think it would be good insurance if a senior, respected Commission officer and his assigned Void Sister go with it. Our respective superiors agree as General Robbins will no doubt confirm in the morning.”
“You think that with the expedition under my and Sister Ardrix’s gimlet eyes and us confirming no subversive or treasonous intent could blunt the Ruling Council’s wrath? I doubt our word would carry much weight, seeing as how we’d be on the side of the accused.”
Saleh chuckled.
“How far do you think the Regent would go in antagonizing Archimandrite Bolack by turning one of his precious mind-meddlers over to the Commission’s most psychopathic torturers? I’m sure you’re aware Grand Admiral Mandus and Bolack enjoy an unusually close relationship.”
“You mean Bolack is in favor of the expedition?”
A nod.
“He also understands the implications, especially if Sister Ardrix is right about the markings and there are still old order Void abbeys out there capable of challenging the legitimacy of the Void Reborn and its leadership.”
“I see. So Ardrix and I are designated hostages of sorts, so the Ruling Council won’t lash out in blind rage at disobedience in the Navy’s senior ranks. Are the Ground Forces in on this?”
“Yes. The expedition will bring a company-sized security contingent from the 1st Guards Special Operations Regiment.”
Torma’s eyebrows shot up.
“Why not a company from the Wyvern Regiment while you’re at it? The Specials are rabidly loyal.”
“To the Hegemony, Colonel, not to the office of Regent, as is the Wyvern Regiment. The Specials’ commander sees the same potential problems facing us if there is another space-faring human polity slowly expanding its reach out there, and people listen to him because he’s slated for higher command.”
“That’s quite the little conspiracy you have going there.”
“Not me, Colonel. I’m merely the messenger. But I speak for a long list of open-minded, intelligent people with stars on their collars, officers from every service whose loyalty to the Wyvern Hegemony and its people transcends politics.”
“And what about the wishes of the Ruling Council?”
“Its choices might not be in the Hegemony’s best long-term interests.”
Torma sat back and studied Saleh.
“What if I say no? What if Ardrix and I say no?”
“The good Sister will obey her superiors as per the vows she made upon entering the Order.” Saleh gave him a sardonic look. “And you won’t say no not only because you understand what’s at stake but because you possess every talented investigator’s defining character trait.”
“Which is?”
“Unquenchable curiosity.”
“Perhaps.”
Torma glanced away, knowing he’d accept even though it meant he would deserve every second of the same suffering inflicted on Jan Keter at his orders. The idea of one law for the powerful and connected and one law for the rest always stuck in his craw. It was what made him so relentless at rooting out subversion and corruption, no matter whose toes he stomped on. No guilty parties escaped his long arm.
“Cheer up, Colonel. It’s not like you have a choice in any case. This brief conversation is merely to decide whether you’re right for the job or would serve better as the guest of honor at your own funeral. General Robbins vouches for you, but since your work makes her shine, she’s not what I would call the most disinterested of flag officers.”
A bitter chuckle rumbled up Torma’s throat.
“You’d have killed me if I decided it was best the Regent heard of this?”
“Me?” Saleh placed his hand over his heart. “No. We use specialists for that sort of thing, the kind who can operate inside this base with complete impunity. But it would have been a shame. Officers who combine ruthlessness in pursuit of duty with an inquisitive, open mind aren’t common in the Guards Corps. I can’t even say the former trait is common on its own, period, let alone the latter.”
Torma shrugged wearily as he turned his eyes back on Saleh.
“Societies in stasis do their best to suppress inquisitiveness, which in turn, generates disaffection.”
“A political police officer with a talent for philosophy. The universe is truly a wondrous place.” Saleh climbed to his feet. “You’ll receive instructions in due course. Until then, carry on as if this discussion never happened.”