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Commissioner Nero Cabreras, the three-star commanding the State Security Commission’s Wyvern Group, strolled into Major General Robbins’ office unannounced several days later, shortly after lunch. A tall, lean, narrow-faced man with a prominent nose and equally prominent Adam’s apple, he always reminded Robbins of nothing so much as a human version of the Wyvern Long Bird. The native avian was known for standing in marshy ponds on one leg while watching their surroundings through eerily shimmering compound eyes.
Cabreras perched himself on a corner of her desk, crossed his arms, and stared at her.
“A little lizard told me you’re rather chummy with Johannes Godfrey of Naval Intelligence these days, Ishani. Is that related to the cruise Crevan Torma and Sister Ardrix are taking?”
“As a matter of fact, it does. Johannes gives me regular updates on their status. So far, so good. Both are integrating well with the task force commander’s staff. I’m optimistic the concept will work.”
Robbins had sold the temporary assignment of Torma and Ardrix to Watanabe’s staff as a way of getting Commission people aboard Navy ships. It was ostensibly so they could step up the fight against smuggling by interrogating suspected merchant captains on the spot rather than weeks later after they disposed of their cargoes.
Since starships engaged in illegal activities were seized as prizes, it made sense the Navy would enjoy being in on the action rather than let the Commission pocket the prize money. Godfrey had dreamed up the cover story, more proof if any was necessary, that his mind worked in twisted ways.
“The same little lizard told me the task force fueled up in the Torrinos system and vanished from the sensor grid. Any idea what that’s about?”
She shrugged.
“Search me. The Navy doesn’t discuss its ship movements with anyone. We’ll find out when Crevan and Ardrix are back.”
Her gaze never wavered, but she wondered about the talkative reptile whispering in Cabreras’ ear. Her superior gave no sign of having high-level contacts in the Navy, nor did he ever hint at being among those who wanted a more vigorous Ruling Council, one ready to reclaim lost worlds.
It was well known around HQ that he wanted to become Chief Commissioner when Cameron Bucco retired, which meant convincing the Council of his utmost loyalty and showing an almost religious adherence to the policies it proclaimed. If it entailed embracing stagnation with all his heart, he would do so. Not that Cabreras would call it so. No, he would use terms such as preserving harmony and balance, security and stability, that sort of thing.
“Why do I get the impression you’re not telling me everything, Ishani?”
“I couldn’t say. You know as much as I do about what goes on around here, sir.”
He scoffed. “Are you forgetting I once sat in that chair and carefully managed the flow of information to the Group Commander’s office?”
“No, sir.”
Cabreras stood. “Then do try to remember you’re a State Security Commission flag officer first and foremost. We might be one big, happy Guards Corps, but we owe our primary loyalty to our branch.”
With that, he left a thoughtful Robbins staring out the window. Cabreras rarely came down from his aerie, and then only for urgent matters. Otherwise, he summoned his divisional commanders. Something was bothering him, that much she could sense without the help of a Void Sister. Could he suspect Task Force Kruzenshtern, with two of his officers among the crew, was going rogue because of Jan Keter and his illegal expedition? But why should he?
Torma had closed the Keter smuggling case weeks earlier due to lack of evidence. Though very much alive in Repulse’s brig, Keter was listed as having died of natural causes while in custody, a common occurrence. She’d never specifically reported the items of advanced manufacture bearing mysterious old order abbey markings, lumping them in with the rest of the illegal trade goods Keter brought back when she wrote up the summary for Cabreras.
Could one of the network’s cells involved with the reconnaissance mission be leaking information? She should tell Godfrey as soon as possible but make sure their meeting wouldn’t come to Cabreras’ attention. Otherwise, he’d know something was up. Her superior might consider ambition a virtue, yet he was no fool, and he’d surely be monitoring her every move for the next day or two.
Robbins pushed the thought from her mind and concentrated on the case file in front of her. She always came up with her best ideas while doing something else. Besides, if that’s all Cabreras heard, then his informant didn’t know the truth. Nothing said he or she was part of the network in any case.
She looked up at the windows again after a few minutes when another thought struck her. They wouldn’t hear from the task force until its return. There were no functioning subspace radio relays beyond the Hegemony sphere because Dendera’s Retribution Fleet had destroyed every last one long ago. It meant that if the task force ran into something dire, she might never hear from them again.
The idea came shortly before quitting time. Robbins pulled up the file the Commission kept on Rear Admiral Johannes Godfrey. All senior officers were scrutinized, and their lives dissected before promotion beyond lieutenant colonel or commander, even those wearing the Commission’s insignia. Yes, her accessing it would leave a trace, but her name would be only one among many who read up on the Chief of Naval Intelligence in the last year, Commissioner Cabreras among them, and his last time was only the previous day.
And there it was, her solution. Godfrey attended religious services at the abbey every Friday evening. As part of the deal between the Order and the Hegemony, surveillance of any Void Reborn house and those who visited them was strictly forbidden. It was the price the Ruling Council and its enforcer, the State Security Commission, paid in return for the services of truth-saying Sisters, the ones who could plunge into another’s mind and see what it contained.
Now Robbins had to show renewed faith in the Almighty and make it believable. Like most Commission officers, she paid little attention to spiritual matters. However, a Void Reborn Orb sat on her office’s sole bookshelf, a reminder of the Hegemony’s symbiotic relationship with the monastic order that made her service branch so terrifyingly effective.
Thus, two evenings later, after an early supper, Robbins headed for the abbey in her private ground car, which, contrary to most in New Draconis and indeed most on Wyvern, wasn’t equipped with a tracking device that betrayed its owner’s every move. A major general, especially one of the Commission’s divisional commanders, enjoyed that particular perk along with most of the planet’s elite.
She parked in the assigned lot beyond the main gates and walked the rest of the way to the large, vaulted yet simple stone building where the Brethren held services for the public. Its pinkish granite cladding seemed to glow as it reflected the last rays of the setting sun while soft light seeped through tall, stained glass windows.
A gentle murmur of voices escaping through open doors reached her ears when she joined the flow of silent worshipers. Like them, Robbins was dressed simply — dark trousers, a loose, long-sleeved white blouse beneath an equally dark jacket, and comfortable, flat-heeled shoes.
In deference to the abbey’s sanctity, she’d left her sidearm in the car and felt strangely naked without its comforting heft. Technically, a Commission officer going about in public unarmed was against policy, especially if she wore civilian clothes, but this was the sacred abbey.
It wasn’t the first time Robbins entered the Hegemony’s premier place of worship, but it was the first time she would join a service. Finding the cathedral-like hall bursting at the seams well before the appointed time gave her pause. One of the few aspects of Hegemony society to which the Commission paid little attention was the Order of the Void Reborn’s influence, mostly because of the mutual interest compact between the secular and the religious.
That so many would attend a regular Friday night service within the abbey walls surprised her, although perhaps it shouldn’t. The abbey ran regular services in outlying houses of worship scattered around New Draconis, as did priories elsewhere across the planet, and those were always well attended.
Her eyes searched for Godfrey’s familiar face among the crowd but in vain. And yet, shortly after she found room on a densely packed pew in one of the higher tiers lining three of the house’s four walls, a hand tapped on her shoulder. She turned her head and found herself face-to-face with a smiling Godfrey. Like her, he wore sober civilian clothes, the sort favored by the rest of the congregation.
“Did you suddenly find religion, my dear Ishani?”
“No, but I suddenly found you just now, which means my prayers were answered. We must talk.”
“In that case, after the service, I suggest we take a stroll through the abbey orchard, where the Brethren engage in walking meditation exercises. That makes it one of the most private places in New Draconis.”
“Sure.”
Robbins turned her attention back on the altar where a bald, gray-bearded Friar and an equally aged Sister were uncovering the sacred Void Orb. That done, both turned toward the congregation and raised their arms. Almost at once, the soft buzz of conversation died away.
They dropped their arms, and the Friar intoned, “The Void giveth.”
His voice echoed off the walls, as did hers when she said, “The Void taketh away.”
To which those present replied, “Blessed be the Void.”
Though Robbins hadn’t attended a service since graduating from the Guards Academy, she quickly fell into the familiar rhythms and found herself eerily at ease among so many strangers. It ran counter to her instincts as one of the state's guardians, feared by most and hated by many, but she wasn’t fazed.
When she stood as the officiants raised their arms and invoked the Almighty’s blessing one last time, ending the service, it was as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, one she hadn’t been aware of until that very moment.
Robbins followed the flow of people down the tiers and through the door, then stepped aside and waited for Godfrey, who showed up moments later wearing an air of contentment she’d never seen before, even though they’d known each other since their Academy days.
“What did you think?” He asked as they fell into step side-by-side on the path leading to the orchard.
She thought about the question for a few moments.
“It was more powerful than I remember. Mind you, I’ve not attended a service since graduation.”
Godfrey chuckled.
“You’re on the right track. The form hasn’t changed since our younger days, but this place gives it a more profound meaning. Or perhaps the great number of devoutly faithful in this sacred house amplifies everything. Many of us didn’t enjoy attending the Academy services, and that attitude permeated the congregation back then. In contrast, everyone comes here by choice.”
“An interesting way of looking at it.”
“If you ever have a few moments with Archimandrite Bolack, ask him. Or better yet, ask one of the Sisters he assigned as Commission auxiliaries. They’re the sort who really understand the human mind from the inside out.”
“Don’t I know it,” she replied in a dry tone. “What I wonder is how you know about that.”
“Come now. The Commission has been using Sisters with a particular talent as truth-sayers and interrogators for decades. Even if you don’t publicize your practices and eliminate many of those subjected to their full extent, the word is bound to reach ears such as mine. Although I have difficulties reconciling the beauty of the service that we just witnessed with the darkness that Sisters who work for the Commission encounter daily.”
“I do as well. Perhaps those with the strongest talent no longer feel empathy for others or at least for those subject to their tender mercies. Or they have other coping mechanisms we can’t begin to understand.” She shrugged. “None besides the Brethren know, and they certainly won’t tell.”
Entering the orchard after sunset was like stepping into another world, lit only by the stars and Wyvern’s two moons. The trees, green and lush, absorbed not only New Draconis’ nighttime glow but its constant background noise so that one might never suspect they were on the outskirts of the Hegemony’s capital. Pleasant, flowery scents tickled Robbins’ nostrils, and an unusual sense of peace enveloped her.
“I can see why the Brethren practice walking meditation in this place,” she said in a subdued tone.
“It’s quite something, isn’t it? Finishing my week here always leaves me content with life. Now, what brings you to the abbey, my friend?”