EVE®: Templar One (21 page)

“Right, a steady stream of
Serpentis
business.”

Savant turned serious again.

“I never said from whom the business would originate.”

“Right,” Jacus said, exasperated.
“Thanks, but that’s not necessary.
Let’s just call it even.”

“You don’t believe my offer was sincere?”
Savant asked.

Jacus grimmaced at the pain in his shoulder.
He was suddenly exhausted.

“You put on a good show, I’ll give you that,” he said, starting toward him.
“Let me cut you loose.”

“No need,” Savant said, sitting up effortlessly.
The straps fell away from his wrists.
“I’ll let myself up, thanks.”

Jacus froze.

“Microblade sewn into the seams,” Savant continued, passing his wrist over the leg bindings, which also fell away.
“They work well on most restraints.
You should give my weapon back.”

Jacus stared at the gun in his trembling hand.

“You can’t fire it,” warned Savant, who was now walking toward him.
“Biometric safety.
Only I can pull that trigger.”

Jacus nearly swung the gun at the imposing figure, but again, instinct stopped him.

Savant gently took the weapon back.

“Sabotage setting,” he said, tapping the gun.
A chirp acknowledged his subtle hand movement.
“If you attempted to fire, it would have melted in your hand.”

Jacus began stepping backward.

“You know, I’m an expert shot,” Savant said, stretching lazily, carelessly waving the gun around.
“From that range, you were a sure thing.
Fortunately for you, oxygen deprivation is bad for motor skills.”

The gun disappeared into his expensive long coat.
Out came a datapad.

“Your credits are waiting to be claimed,” Savant said.

“I can’t accept this,” Jacus said cautiously.
“It’s blood money.”

“Collecting dividends from pharmacorp stock is no different,” Savant said, typing away on the device.
“Trust me, they’ve spilled more blood than anyone.”

“I don’t want anything to do with Serpentis,” Jacus said firmly.

“Why do you keep saying that name?”
Savant asked, tucking the datapad away.
He gave him a stern look.
“What I would like is for you to fix all the craft that come through here.
I realize that having customers is something you’re unaccustomed to, so use those funds to hire the right people and get the right equipment.”

Jacus sat back down in the chair.

“I haven’t asked you to do anything illegal,” Savant said, peering into the hangar adjacent to the room.
“You saved my life, remarkably so while under fire.
You have good instincts.
You
should
be rewarded for what you did.”

Jacus was beginning to wish he’d ignored that crash outside the shop.

“If customers come through my door, who am I to turn them away?”
he said.

Savant smiled.

“This is the break you’ve been looking for,” he said.
“Now, let’s have a look at that shoulder of yours.
I might have just the thing to dull the pain.”

ESSENCE REGION—VIERES CONSTELLATION

THE LADISTIER SYSTEM—PLANET IV, MOON 4

PRESIDENTIAL BUREAU STATION

SOVEREIGNTY OF THE GALLENTE FEDERATION

Present Day

Jacus stepped onto the walkway leading to his quarters, wiping away globs of pod fluid.
The fuselage of the Ares-class interceptor that he had arrived in towered overhead, mocking his return to mere flesh and bone.
As he acclimated to gravity, showerheads unleashed torrents of distilled water at him.
It was not possible to be any more sterile in this environment, as the pod fluid possessed antiseptic qualities that were lethal to all microorganisms except those beneficial to humans.

Snapping a towel off the rack, he hurried through the motions of drying and getting dressed, lost in thought.
He was frustrated—not angry, but about as angst-ridden as his refined temperament would allow.
Having just returned from a visit with his niece, the acting Roden Shipyards CEO, for her seventieth birthday, Jacus should have been in better spirits.
Instead, he had come away with deep concerns about whether his appointed cabinet staff was hearing his message.

One of the benefits of leaving one empire to build another one was that intelligence gathered by both could be compared against each other.
But its greatest disadvantage was in discovering when the two weren’t aligned.

Jacus worked tirelessly to bolster the intelligence-gathering capabilities of the Federation.
The scope of that effort was not limited to nations under the jurisdiction of CONCORD.
They included frontier organizations like Mordu’s Legion, the Serpentis cartel, and many more.
The ability to connect disparate threads of information from those sources and discover where they converged was the key to winning the war.

Missing even the smallest detail, however obscure, was, at best, a wasted opportunity and at worst, a fatal mistake.
The information relayed by his niece—which had gone undetected by the Federation—meant that his efforts to date had been in vain.

Jacus left his personal quarters, walked past the priceless collection of Mannar art pieces in his personal gallery, and stepped into the waiting speeder.
He intended to arrive early to the national security briefing so he could meditate on deciding which of his cabinet should be deposed for incompetence.

*   *   *

MOST OF THEM ARRIVED
a few minutes early as well.

Ariel Orviegnoure, Director of the Federation Intelligence Office, showed first.
She was one of the only cabinet members retained from the previous administration, and the source of a near-constant political firestorm.
She was the target of blame for the intelligence breach that led to the loss of Caldari Prime—an unfair accusation to anyone who knew the real cause.
Jacus considered her highly capable and intelligent, but he knew her compassion was a liability when it came to making difficult choices.
Still, as a matter of assessing the Federation’s capabilities, he was depending on her to continue transitioning his new policies into the agency.

Also present was Mentas Blaque, Director of the Black Eagles, the secretive paramilitary arm of the Federation Intelligence Office.
Though technically reporting to Ariel, the former senator was her equal in practice and commanded much more respect in the agency than she.
For reasons Jacus had always been suspicious of, he was publicly supportive of Ariel, and by all accounts seemed genuinely loyal, if not outright protective.
As for Jacus, his relationship with Mentas was contentious at first but had finally cooled to one of mutual respect.
Still, both men remained wary of each other.
They were as close as former spies could be expected to get.

Grand Admiral Anteson Ranchel, the Secretary of Defense, was also present, and as always appeared impatient.
His disdain for President Roden was plainly obvious, and he had made a name for himself as something of a rebel because of it.
Jacus didn’t care for the man.
But he did empathize with him and respected his leadership qualities.
Considering that his predecessor was executed for treason, he was handling the spotlight well and making progress in restoring morale within the Navy.
Admiral Ranchel was making an honest and competent effort to win the war and was less than pleased with the support he was getting.
On that, they were in agreement.

Ranchel’s assistant, Vice Admiral Yana Marakova, was the acting National Security Advisor.
A decorated empyrean, she was notoriously ambitious and managed to get herself promoted directly from Captain to Vice Admiral.
A Navy review board declared that the promotion was a wartime exception, but well deserved for her impressive service record, which was truthfully filled with heroics and instances of effective leadership under fire.
Of course, many jealous colleagues believed her “impressive service record” implied something else entirely.
Jacus knew the rumors of her promiscuity were mostly exaggerated.
But whatever her capabilities, he would never willingly allow her onto the cabinet.
She had the cognitive skills, but her personal motivations suggested that she lacked the heart.

The rest of the room was filled with deputies, department heads, and their staffers.
All knew to keep quiet unless spoken to.

President Roden waited patiently until the Director of the FIO finished delivering her briefing.
As expected, the information he wanted to hear was conspicuously absent.

“Thank you, Ariel,” he started.
“But your briefing didn’t mention anything about the frontier.
Or Mordu’s Legion, in particular.”

Ariel blinked.

“It’s business as usual for them,” she said.
“In general, they’re escalating terra-ops in the outer regions, getting more business with upstart colonies.
Our armed forces take fire from them occasionally, usually only when provoked.
But for the most part they avoid direct contact.
They’ve cut their relations with the Caldari State entirely.
But nothing is happening to press any urgent national security issues.”

“I’ve issued three directives for our intelligence strategy,” Jacus started, raising three fingers and counting them off one by one: “Penetrate the Caldari inner circle, research the war technologies of nations, and strengthen ties with the Minmatar Republic.
We must always be vigilant for opportunities to tackle these initiatives.”

“Yes?”
Ariel said.

“Then are you or are you not aware that Mordu’s Legion just accepted a contract with the Republic Fleet?”
Roden asked.

A tinge of red passed through Ariel’s cheeks.
The green mechanical eyes of Jacus were locked with hers.

“That means no,” Jacus said.
“And I find that rather disturbing.”

“What’s the significance of this?”
Admiral Ranchel demanded.

“The contract is to defend the Core Freedom Colony on the planet Pike’s Landing,” Jacus said.
“For those who don’t know, that’s in the Amamake system, right on the front.
The Republic has been struggling to hold on to it for months.”

“We’re well aware this is a contested chokepoint in the war,” said Mentas Blaque.
“How is it relevant to us?”

“The Minmatar are on the verge of losing a well-developed homeworld system, and instead of coming to us for assistance, they chose mercenaries instead,” Jacus said calmly.
“To me, that demonstrates a lack of faith in
your
military, Admiral, and in the capabilities of your Special Forces, Director, and of the commitment of this entire cabinet to restoring our relations with them.”

“I’ll take responsibility for missing this data’s importance for diplomatic opportunities,” Ariel said.
“Clearly our resources are limited, but you could try sharing your Roden Shipyards intel instead of using it to ambush your own team.”

“This is no personal attack,” Jacus said.
“But I have no tolerance for complacency or incompetence.
This is more than an opportunity to mend fences.
Find the cause of the deficiency in your agency and deal with it.”

“What do you mean, ‘more than an opportunity’?”
Mentas Blaque asked.
“What else do your people know about this?”

“It’s not what we know; it’s what we anticipate,” Jacus said.
“Pike’s Landing is a battlefield where nothing remains but desperation.
That’s usually when adversaries play their best cards.
We must be there to learn what those are.”

Jacus leaned forward.

“Admiral, we are going to send the Minmatar help and keep a presence in the Amamake system whether they take our offer or not.”

The cabinet members all exchanged concerned looks.

“What of the Amarr?”
Mentas asked.

“We’ve as much right to be there,” Jacus answered.
“If attacked, we will defend ourselves.”

Admiral Ranchel had an incredulous scowl on his face.

“Mr.
President, are you suggesting we peel resources away from actionable intel to chase leads before they even become leads, if at all?”

“Roden Shipyards spent decades refining the art of anticipating markets,” Jacus said.
“The yield from predictive intelligence gathering is worth the cost of being wrong from time to time.”