Doomsday minus 512 Earth days.
Paul Rodrigues and Ajda Gray walked through the docking portal together and were instantly and thoroughly scrutinized by a welcoming party consisting of the Hak’kor, the Kalufah, and Gavin Holchuk, third in command of House Daisy Hub. Townsend wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting to see, but he knew what he’d been hoping for; and the sad and weary glances that now passed between the “high speaker” and her pilot after six days alone together were definitely not that.
“They look shopworn,” Ruby remarked quietly.
“What?” Townsend whispered back.
“Carelessly handled. Dropped a few times,” she explained, and pointed to Rodrigues’s shoulder, where the seam of his uniform jacket was beginning to come apart.
“Thanks for the warning, Holchuk,” the Ranger captain growled.
“So I was right — you were tested,” the other man replied. “You passed, obviously, since you’re still able to walk under your own power.”
“He let me land the first blow. I made it a good one. After that … it doesn’t bear retelling,” Rodrigues said, giving his head a quick shake as though to rid it of the memory. “There were no colors flying afterward, but yes, I think I passed the test.”
“Ms. Gray, did you get what you needed?” Townsend asked.
“Actually, I did,” she told him. Then, casting a Here goes! glance at her traveling companion, she announced, “We’ve got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”
With unease stirring in his midsection, Townsend said, “Good news first.”
“I won’t have to grow a tree on the hydroponics deck. It turns out that each House took more than one cutting from the sacred tree. He doesn’t know about the other Houses, but the high speaker of Trokerk keeps each of their cuttings in a stasis tube and pulls one out at random whenever a living staff is needed. He’s very generously provided us with two tubes, one containing a cutting. The other is filled with stasis solution, so that we can analyze its composition and perhaps start producing it ourselves.”
Townsend swallowed hard, already realizing what the bad news had to be. “He’s given us one of their living staffs? Does that mean what I think it does?”
“I’m afraid so,” she told him. “The ceremony has begun. The Hak’kor’s ship started collecting representatives from the various Shields as soon as he received our request for the meeting. Once everyone is aboard, they’ll be coming directly here to conclude the exchange.”
“How long do we have to prepare?”
“According to the high speaker, once the ritual starts, it has to be finished within eight standard days. That gives us no more than six before the Hak’kor’s arrival. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, Ms. Gray,” he told her, throwing a meaningful look in Holchuk’s direction. “You had no way of knowing.”
And once more, the clock was ticking down on a Nandrian visit that could end the lives of everyone aboard Daisy Hub. The further good news was that the field generator was still offline, meaning that no one would have to risk insulting the Hak’kor by instructing his pilot to shut down all weapons on approach to the station. And the further bad news to go with it was that Captain Rodrigues, the by-the-book commander of the Ranger detachment on Zulu, was read into this op and fully aware of what was at stake … or so he thought. Could things possibly get more precarious?
Townsend had his answer within seconds.
“Drew, we have a situation!” Lydia’s voice over the wallcomm sounded raspy, as though she’d strained it by shouting. “A Corvou ship has entered the system. Lieutenant Carlisle says it’s heavily armed, and he’s dispatching a shuttle to intercept it.”
Just one situation? It sounded as though they had two.
Townsend made eye contact with one of the surveillance cameras. “Say that again,” he demanded. “If the Corvou are swarming and they act with one mind, a lone Corvou ship coming after us doesn’t make sense.”
“It could be a rogue,” Rodrigues pointed out tightly. “Or a scout, on a reconnaissance mission.”
Ruby laid a hand on Drew’s arm. “Or it could be Odysseus, returning to the station.”
“In a fully armed ship?” said Rodrigues. “Not likely.”
“Maybe he traded Devil Bug in for a newer model,” she told him. “One with bells and whistles. And guns.”
In an instant, Drew made his decision. “Lydia, tell Carlisle he needs to order his men to stand down.”
“Hey, wait a damn minute!” Rodrigues yelped. “You can’t issue that command to a Ranger!”
“All right, then — you do it. I’m going down to AdComm to verify the identity of whoever is piloting that Corvou vessel, because I’ll bet you anything it isn’t a Corvou.” Addressing Ruby and Holchuk, he added, “Noris told us to expect help from the other alien races, remember?”
“Noris? Who the hell is Noris?” Rodrigues demanded in a voice half an octave higher than usual.
“Call off your intercept shuttle, then meet me on AdComm, and I’ll explain,” Drew promised.
Muttering darkly to himself, the Ranger captain pivoted and raced back through the docking portal, onto the Endeavor.
“I’ll stay and see to offloading the luggage, Chief,” Ruby told him cheerfully. “You go save Odysseus’s bifurcated little butt.”
—— «» ——
Carlisle wasn’t happy about pulling back the Tripoli, but once Rodrigues’s identity had been confirmed, the lieutenant had complied.
“It’s moving awfully fast,” Rodrigues observed, gazing over Lydia’s shoulder at the comm console’s screen.
“Corvou ships tend to do that,” she told him. Turning in her seat, she announced, “ETA Daisy Hub in just under two hours, Drew. And the pilot has finally made contact.”
“Put it on speakers.”
“Greetings, friend-Humans on Daisy Hub!” The voice that came through the comm was flat and manufactured, clearly being produced by a translation device. “Do not destroy me. I bring you a gift.”
Rodrigues spat an angry syllable. “A Trojan horse! I knew it!”
Lydia swiveled her head and stared at him in apparent confusion. “Why would he bring us a horse? For that matter, why would anyone bring a horse to a space station?”
Without turning his eyes away from the screen, the Ranger replied, “It’s a ruse, to get inside an enemy’s defenses.”
“Uh-huh.” She faced forward once more. “Captain, we have no defenses right now to speak of, certainly nothing that anyone would need to break through. With the field generator out of commission, we don’t even have an invisibility shield. And you still haven’t answered my question. Why a horse? Why not a crocodile? Or an anteater?”
Townsend was positioned to see the grin on her face. Rodrigues was not.
“The first time it was used, this military tactic involved concealing dozens of armed men inside a huge statue of a horse,” the Ranger explained patiently. “Didn’t you learn this in school?”
She turned, still grinning, and met his gaze. In that instant he realized she’d been teasing him.
“Of course you did,” he said.
“Just trying to get you to loosen up a little, Captain.”
“Maybe later,” he responded gruffly. “We already know that shuttle is carrying explosive material. Before it gets any closer, you’d better confirm the identity of the pilot.”
Lydia had evidently overheard the exchange on A Deck. Refusing to take orders directly from a Ranger, she looked expectantly at Townsend.
“Let’s do it,” he told her, “Unmute the mic so I can answer the pilot’s hail.”
Rodrigues opened his mouth as though to say something, then apparently changed his mind.
When Lydia had given Drew a thumbs-up signal, he summoned his most authoritative speaking voice. “Pilot of approaching Corvou craft, identify yourself, please.”
“It is me — Odysseus! And I have things to tell you about the Corvou preparations for war.”
“That’s quite a gift to hide inside a horse,” Lydia remarked evenly. “Where should I direct it, Drew? Portal or landing deck?”
“You’re letting it dock?” Rodrigues exclaimed. “Without knowing for certain who’s at the controls?”
“It’s Odysseus,” Lydia informed him, in a tone that left the word “stupid” hanging unspoken in the air.
“It’s a translation device,” he snapped back at her. “Anyone or anything could be using it.”
“If that ship is outside the station when the Nandrian generator turns back on, we could have a problem. Put it in Devil Bug’s parking spot on the landing deck,” Townsend instructed her. “Then send Hagman in with a Security team to verify that the pilot really is Odysseus before the rest of us go up to welcome him back. I can’t wait to hear how he managed to acquire a fully-armed Corvou vessel.”
“Neither can I,” Rodrigues commented softly, adding, “And who is this Noris character who’s apparently been communicating with you behind my back? You said you would explain.”
“He’s a telepathic alien that the Marco Polo encountered during one of their long range missions. He recently made mental contact with a passenger aboard the ship, giving her a message to pass along, and she personally relayed it to me the last time they docked here.”
“A message about other aliens who are aware of our situation and prepared to help us? That’s good! Isn’t it?”
“Well, I wouldn’t get my hopes up just yet, Paul. According to the captain of the Marco Polo, this particular alien communicates in generalities and doesn’t work well with others.”
“Sounds just like a Nandrian,” the Ranger remarked with a sigh. “So, Noris is not a reliable source. What a surprise. And the being piloting that Corvou ship?”
“I guess we’ll find out in a couple of hours,” Townsend told him. “Meanwhile, if you’d like to have a bite to eat or catch a nap in our guest quarters…?”
“No, thanks. I’ll be on the Endeavor if anyone needs me. Enjoying my privacy,” he added, pointedly making eye contact with Lydia.
When Rodrigues was gone, she turned to Townsend and said, “Do you think maybe we need to conceal some of our securecams?”
“No,” he replied. “Now that we’re a resistance movement, I think we need to conceal all of them.”
—— «» ——
The Corvou ship parked on the Hub’s landing deck was definitely not Devil Bug. It was larger and had a different insect-shaped profile. And it had guns. Lots of them. Some were tucked into recesses formed by the folded-wing-like contour of the upper hull. Positioned for maximum coverage, a weapons array sat atop the fuselage, ready to tilt and swivel on command.
The cargo hatch stood open, revealing racks of what appeared to be shiny metal balls, some bronze and some silver, and each about fifteen centimeters in diameter. There looked to be a couple dozen of each color. They were ammunition rounds, Townsend guessed. To either side of the fuselage, pairs of circular irises covered what were most likely the ends of the launch tubes that delivered these projectiles.
“This is what they intend to send to Earth?” he asked.
“And to Daisy Hub,” said Odysseus’s translation box. “The dark ones cancel electronics. The light ones cancel the forces that hold matter together.”
“So, this is the alien version of EM grenades and disintegrator bombs,” Rodrigues supplied, “designed to take out every kind of shield we’re capable of generating, then destroy the generators for good measure. And once the shields are down, the real attack begins. This is a fighter craft, Townsend. Its job is to soften us up, then protect the big guns on the heavy ships from whatever offensive we may still be able to throw at them.”
“You are correct, Ranger-Human,” said the box. “The heat weapons are carried by other ships. Larger ships that need more than a single being to fly them. I stole one that I could fly alone.”
Apparently, Townsend had misjudged Odysseus not once, but twice. So this was why he had taken Devil Bug! While Jason Smith and Lucas Soaring Hawk had been salivating over possible stealth missions, the intrepid little alien had actually carried one out.
“Daisy Hub shuttle is sitting with many others on a moon in Corvou space,” Odysseus continued. “Weapons are secret, not being made on Coravon.”
“Wait a minute,” said Rodrigues. “They’re building the ships on their home world, then sending them elsewhere for ordnance to be installed?”
“And then to other places. Gathering places,” Odysseus confirmed.
“Agnosk told me that the treaty forbids them to design or build weapons. They must be expecting attempts to stop them. That’s why they’re dispersing their fleet,” Townsend explained.
Rodrigues turned doubting eyes on the little alien. “How did you find all this out, again?”
“I listened. I boarded a Corvou ship and let them fly it. I waited until the ship was in a gathering place. Waited more, for darkness. Then I chose this one to fly here.”
“You took a tremendous risk, Odysseus,” Townsend told him.
“The Lania-Human taught me that taking risks is what friends do for one another, sometimes without being asked. But this was not so great a risk. I knew it could be done, because it worked the last time.”
“You’ve done this before?”
“Not me. Another, long ago. Mitradean shells change color. Without movement, we are invisible to Corvou.”
Of course. Natural camouflage. Townsend thought immediately of the artworks that had adorned the inner bulkheads of the station when he’d arrived. The Midnight Muralist had used the molecular paintbrush to reproduce the exact color of space. So exact, in fact, that to an onlooker, there had appeared to be an opening in the hull…
Rodrigues’s impatient voice sliced into Drew’s thoughts. “Can you remember the coordinates of the gathering place where you stole the ship?”
It was the wrong question. Townsend rephrased it. “Odysseus, did you transmit the navigational coordinates to any other Mitradeans during your voyage?”
“Yes. The Mitrades are friends to Humans. We must wait for now. Let more warships come. Then Mitrades will act. No vessels will lift off from that moon.”
“But there are other gathering places, you said?”
“Yes. Some Corvou ships will be coming to Daisy Hub.”
“Some?” Rodrigues echoed dubiously.
“Many,” Odysseus admitted after a second.
Townsend stared pensively at the ordnance Odysseus had brought back. There had been wars in Earth’s distant past, generally won by the side that was able to create the most devastating weapon. If your enemy fired rifles and lobbed grenades, you hit them with missiles. If they had missiles, you dropped a bomb. If they had bombs, you developed the mother of all bombs and turned it against their civilian population. The survivors, if there were any, then surrendered. At least, that was the way it had worked in Earth’s primitive past.
The Corvou were master arms makers. They evidently no longer bothered with such things as rifles and fragmentation grenades, preferring to unleash the ultimate weapon and get things over with right away. However, as Karlov had earlier pointed out, there could be no surrendering in this particular war. Agnosk had made it clear that the Nandrian code of honor permitted only the combatant Corvou to be killed. The next generation of that race — the unhatched eggs — were strictly off-limits.
And all Humanity could do was sit in Earth space and wait for the enemy to attack?
Not acceptable.
Recalling his years with the Warrior Kings gang, Townsend felt a plan begin taking shape in his mind. Whenever Rex Regum learned that a rival gang planned to challenge the Kings’ dominance in the Zone, he always took the battle to the other gang’s turf. Tommy had learned his strategy from Earth’s history — old ways were often the best — and he would lead midnight raids on their weapons caches, cut off their supply routes, and discourage their supporters. That was Tommy Novotny’s code of honor: each incursion, each blow struck was calculated not to destroy the enemy but rather to weaken and demoralize them, so that if and when the two gangs did finally clash, the odds would be in the Kings’ favor.
There was no “if” in this case. War with the Corvou was inevitable. However, Odysseus had just brought Daisy Hub the means to strike a preemptive blow against the enemy, one that would either shorten the conflict or drastically reduce the size of the swarm, provided they could pull it off. Luckily, there were trained soldiers aboard the Hub whose knowledge could increase the Humans’ chances of success.
Townsend buzzed AdComm. With effort keeping the excitement out of his voice, he said, “Lydia, I need Karlov and Jason Smith to report to me on the landing deck as soon as possible.”
“Is it an emergency, Drew?” she asked. “Because Jason is crawling through conduits right now, and Karlov is suited up and doing external maintenance.”
Of course they were.
Waiting around was Townsend’s least favorite thing to do. Resisting the temptation to lie, he replied, “No, it’s not an emergency. I do need to see them, though. Let me know when they’re both free.”
Rodrigues waited until he’d cleared the channel, then said, “This ship has given you an idea. I could almost hear the wheels turning inside your head. You’re a dangerous man when you’re thinking, Townsend. I may have to confiscate the Corvou craft for your own safety.”
Reminding himself that he was talking to a fellow EIS operative, one who might have to give himself deniability, Drew told him, “No, you won’t. And what makes you so certain that what I have in mind would be dangerous?”
The Ranger barked a syllable of laughter. “Personal experience and observation. You have a perverse notion of what constitutes a safe mission, Townsend. The one I recently let you talk me into damn near got me killed.” Leaning in and lowering his voice, he continued, “Listen, we’re already in a risky situation. If we’re lucky — and that’s by no means a given — the enemy have no idea that one of their ships has fallen into our hands. I, for one, would like to keep it that way. So go ahead and make whatever plans you like, but know this: as soon as I’m back on Zulu, I’ll be ordering my men to keep a close watch on Daisy Hub and to take steps if necessary to prevent you and your crew from leaving the station.”
Rodrigues’s words were still rolling around inside Townsend’s brain a couple of hours later as he, Jason Smith, and Max Karlov stepped off the lift together onto the landing deck. At the sight of the alien ship, Smith let out a low whistle of admiration.
“So this is a Corvou fighter,” Karlov said appraisingly. He circled the craft, pausing for a long look inside its cargo hold, then returned, grim-faced, to where Smith and Townsend stood. “It comes with ordnance, I see. Just enough to rile the swarm but not enough to stop it.”
“If we use this one ship to try to defend the Hub, yes,” Townsend agreed. “But I’m considering another purpose for it.”
“If you’re thinking of reverse engineering the guns to make more of them, I’d advise talking to Soaring Hawk,” said Smith. “That’s his area of expertise, not mine.”
“He doesn’t have your military training,” Townsend replied. “That’s the expertise I need right now.”
“You want to know how to defend against a ship like this?” Karlov broke in. “I can tell you. There is no defense against a ship like this, except by other ships like this.”
Townsend paused for effect, then said evenly, “Ruby is a hot-dogging pilot and a better than average flight instructor, with a lot of hours logged on Devil Bug. Now we have a more dangerous Corvou-made vessel. What I want to know is, are you willing to let her teach you how to fly it?”
That got the Stragori’s attention. “You want me to pilot this ship? Why? To infiltrate the swarm? I could do it,” he said with obvious reluctance. “I could start a crossfire to sow confusion in the enemy fleet. It would be a suicide mission, of course, and it would hardly make a ripple in the Corvou ranks. Not the best use of a captured vessel, or of me, since I’m sworn to protect your life at all costs and that’s hard to do if I’m blown up at the start of the battle.”
Meanwhile, Smith’s eyes were widening with comprehension. “I think what Mr. Townsend has in mind is a stealth mission behind enemy lines. Like the one Odysseus mounted to secure the fighter for us.”
This was more to Karlov’s liking. “Reconnaissance?”
“Actually, it’s a seek and later destroy,” Townsend clarified. “According to Odysseus, the Corvou have established a number of bases in alien space where they’ve parceled out portions of their fleet. He’s transmitted the coordinates of one of the bases to his fellow Mitrades and enlisted their help to destroy it. What I want to do is pare down the enemy’s numbers by locating and eliminating a few more.”
“Locating them is doable, but it will be risky, and the timing will be critical,” Karlov pointed out. “An attack on any of the Corvou bases will bring the remaining swarm here immediately, whether we’re ready for them or not. So we’ll need to hold off until all of our defenses are in place. On the other hand, if we wait too long, the ships will depart for the staging coordinates and we’ll have missed our chance.”
“Noted,” Townsend replied. “I’m going to need the coordinates of as many bases as you can find, along with an approximate number of ships on the ground. But first, I need you to train with the fighter. You’ll need to fly it well enough to evade pursuit and possibly weapons fire if you’re detected.”
“It could be a long mission. Their bases will be spread out all over Corvou space. Captain Rodrigues will not be pleased.”
“I know. You just focus on what you have to do and leave Rodrigues to me.”
—— «» ——
Doomsday minus 509 Earth days.
Two station days later, Townsend arrived on C Deck to find Gavin Holchuk sitting slouched in the chair behind the station manager’s desk. The Chief Cargo Inspector looked as though he could use a good night’s rest. Moved like it as well, as he heaved himself onto his feet and thrust a sheaf of papers in Townsend’s direction.
“It’s the list of our Shield representatives for ssalssit essendi, and a printout of your speeches,” Holchuk explained.
“Hard copy? Why not just bring me the file?” Townsend asked as he accepted the pages and jogged them up. There seemed to be a lot of them.
Wearing a sour expression, Holchuk pulled a compupad out of his pocket and dropped it onto the desk top. “I did. But I needed to talk to you about it, and you took your sweet time about getting here. So, I transcribed and printed the text while I was waiting. I’ve been up all night writing it. Keeping busy helped me to stay awake until you arrived.”
“You didn’t have to wait. You could have had me paged,” Townsend pointed out. “Or you could have asked Lydia where I was and come to the caf to find me.”
Holchuk looked shocked. “And interrupt your breakfast for something that wasn’t an actual emergency? I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Uh-huh. No decryption necessary to understand that message. Townsend turned his attention to the printout. The names on the first page were listed in descending order of rank. He and Ruby were the First Shield, followed by Paul Rodrigues as Second Shield, Lydia as Third Shield…
When Drew came to Seventh Shield, his brain tripped, causing him to glance up in surprise. “You want O’Malley in the delegation?”
“It was either him or Jensen, and I figured you would prefer having someone who can keep Yoko calm and cooperative. Listen, boss man, it’s okay to have her in a cage beside you when we’re welcoming a bunch of tipsy Nandrian warriors aboard the station. But for a ceremony like this, when their Hak’kor is involved and everyone is cold sober, you need to be holding our tseritsa in your arms.”
“I get it. Everything needs to be perfect. Is that what you were waiting to tell me?”
“Part of it. I also wanted you to be aware that once the Houses are joined, each Hak’kor is entitled to ask for one favor from the other. The favor can be deferred, or it can be requested immediately after the ceremony is concluded. Based on your earlier conversation with Agnosk, I think we both know what Trokerk is eventually going to be wanting from us. You just need to decide what Daisy Hub should be asking for, and when.”
—— «» ——
Hours later, Townsend was at his desk, perusing page after page of speeches and feeling a knot form in the pit of his stomach. Memorize all this in just a few days? The Hak’kor’s opening address alone was twelve pages long. He could believe Holchuk had been half-asleep while writing it — it rambled on for at least twenty minutes and said nothing.
The hum of the tube car was a welcome distraction. Drew glanced up in time to see O’Malley bound out of it, looking absolutely jubilant.
“Boss! I did it! I found her. Actually, she was already looking for him, so I guess she’s the one who found us—”
“Whoa! Slow down, O’Malley. You’re not making any sense. Who did you find?”
The ratkeeper paused to fill his lungs. “Holchuk’s daughter, Madeline. He was right all along. She was given to an Eligible family to raise. And you’ll never guess who adopted her.”
“You’re right, I won’t. So tell me.”
“The sister and brother-in-law of Melville Ridout. He was one of the Hub’s first station managers. And his thumbprint was on the order that brought you out here.”
Townsend leaned back in his chair, working to keep his brain from seizing up. “Holchuk’s daughter became Ridout’s niece? Did her adoptive parents name her Irene, by any chance?”
“They did. But how would you—?” Wheels were turning now inside the ratkeeper’s head, narrowing his eyes. “You must have known her back on Earth.” When Drew didn’t deny it right away, O’Malley continued gleefully, “Yeah! That cover story I saw through when you arrived? It wasn’t the cover story, was it? The investigation into Khaloub’s death — that was the cover.”
Townsend cursed silently. There had been two similar cover stories, one created by Earth Intelligence and the other by Space Installation Security Covert Ops. The murder investigation had been an undercover mission for SISCO, so his EIS handler had buried the first story and gone with the second one. O’Malley had evidently dug up the first one and jumped to an erroneous conclusion. And with his inability to keep a secret, it was probably already generating a buzz all along the station’s grapevine.
Lovely.
“Now you’re saying I was never a cop?”
“Oh, you were a cop, all right. A cop who got shipped off-world for daring to romance a big hat’s niece. Only now we know that she’s actually a crew member’s daughter.” The kid was practically rubbing his hands together in anticipation of Holchuk’s reaction to this news.
“Don’t believe everything you read in a biodata update, O’Malley,” Townsend advised him. “About this Irene…? You said she was searching for her birth father?”
“Yep. She’s got passable digging skills, and her adoptive family gives her clout. I figure she’ll be making contact with the Hub in the not-too-distant future.”
“Good. And what about Walt Garfield?”
Seeming to deflate, O’Malley dropped onto a chair. “That one’s not as easy. It took me a while, but I’ve finally learned his current name. It’s Brad Fuller. Using that, I was able to track him to one of the Industrial Zones in Americas, but there’s no guarantee he’ll stay there. The Relocation Authority has been moving him around a lot, almost as if they want him to be hard to find.”
There was no almost about it, Townsend thought grimly. This situation bore a disturbing similarity to what had happened to Harry and Teri Mintz. The only question in his mind was, which of the Garfields had Earth Intelligence targeted? Had they arrested Walt to sweep him out of the way so they could convince Lydia to accept a posting to Daisy Hub? Or had they removed Lydia to the Hub so they could turn Walt into an operative on Earth? Or had they done both?
“Can you get a message to him?”
O’Malley frowned. “Maybe. But he’s Ineligible now, so I doubt whether he’ll be able to reply.”
“He doesn’t need to reply. He just needs to know that his wife is alive on Daisy Hub and that she knows he’s alive as well.” Once Walt realized how badly they’d both been betrayed, he would very likely do whatever it took to make contact with her, Townsend suspected. And, just to be sure…
“Another thing: he may not actually be Ineligible. If Lydia is correct, Walt’s arrest was bogus. It may even have been staged as a way to separate him from his family. Look again, O’Malley. And be suspicious of anything you find in the official database. All those transfers and reassignments could have been bogus as well. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that he hasn’t spent so much as a day in detention, or even outside of an urban district.”
“It sounds as if you have some experience in this area, boss.”
Pointedly returning his attention to the pages of his speech, Townsend growled, “I’m sure it does.”
“I’m not trying to pry, just wondering — how carefully should we be stirring this pot?”
“Oh, we haven’t begun to stir things up, O’Malley. I’ll let you know when it’s time for that. In the meanwhile, there’s nothing wrong with turning up the heat a little.”
The ratkeeper grinned. He certainly knew how to do that.