Chapter 2
. . . the war between man and zor had occupied two generations on each side. it had been fought on philosophical grounds, though the means and methods had been physical and violent: starships, explosives, marines, biotech, intel. whatever analysis was applied to it during or after—to explain, apologize, stigmatize, or justify—it was clearly a war, a sort of background percussion to everything that happened between the dark dawn of alya and the treaty of e'rene'e, sixty years almost to the month.
by the time the second generation of both humans and zor had grown up with this conflict as a companion, it had become almost comfortable: there was an enemy and a pattern to its conduct of the campaign. only marais' war, the final eight months of the sixty years, changed that. there was one further level of comfort: the war was fought at the fringes, with the majority of the action taking place in what eventually became the "new territories," between the edge of the empire and the antares rift.
the conflict between the solar empire and the vuhls was a far different sort of war. it had been sprung on the consciousness without any marking event like the dark dawn. the loss of the naval base at cicero didn't even make the newsvids for a few months: only the capture of adrianople system forced the admiralty's hand. the suddenness with which it took place was frightening for both humans and zor.
what was more, the targets of alien attacks were no longer somewhere remote in a "war zone." within two years of cicero and adrianople, the vuhls had struck at dominica, new georgetown, and josephson—all within fifty parsecs of sol system; none of them had any particular military value. josephson almost made sense: in the first year of the war the vuhls had lost five hive-ships there, and the firestorms they set off on the primary earthlike world during the second battle in josephson system might have been some sort of revenge.
the others—and the many attacks that followed, year after year—seemed to follow no real pattern. squadrons of vuhl ships, sometimes led by hive-ships and sometimes not, would emerge from jump and attack a target. if the defender was lucky, there would be enough force to repel the attack . . . but luck was not always with the defenders. the incursions defied logic or strategy but they were nothing if not fierce. it was almost as if the vuhls had stepped up their intensity, as if there was a deadline: something coming, something unavoidable and unstoppable.
—author unknown,
The Dark Crusade: A History,
early fragment published circa 2430
March 2422
esYen, Zor'a System
Jackie opened her eyes and saw the gyaryu around her. Sergei Torrijos walked out of the darkness. Jackie knew they weren't alone; sixty-fours of other inhabitants were out there in the darkness, in case she needed to consult with them.
"Hi," she said.
"se Jackie," Sergei said, inclining his head.
"Admiral Erich Anderson is briefing the High Nest this afternoon," she said. "Emperor Ian came insystem yesterday, jumping directly from the war zone. Something's happened."
"But that's not what is troubling you."
"No."
Sergei smiled. He must have been quite a charmer in his day, Jackie thought to herself. "I believe I can guess."
"hi Sa'a has invited the Talon of esLi to attend the briefing. I have no idea why: She blames it on the Eight Winds, but insists that se Ch'en'ya and her . . . colleagues . . . have to be on hand. 'Important communications,' she says. 'The Eight Winds,' she says."
"You should be accustomed to that by now."
"How long did it take you?"
"To get used to the inscrutability of the High Nest? I never got used to it, se Jackie. Eighty-five Standard years and I never did." Sergei smiled again. "I merely came to accept it."
"There you are . . . But my concern isn't that hi Sa'a has made this decision: I know better than to question her instincts. I'm just afraid of what se Ch'en'ya will say. Or do. Admiral Anderson isn't known for his patience."
"Neither is se Ch'en'ya, from what I've seen. But she is a powerful Sensitive, se Jackie. Surely hi Sa'a believes that."
"I believe it, too, but I . . . I'm not sure. I trust my instincts, too, si Sergei, and I have this feeling of foreboding."
"About the briefing?"
"No, it's more than that. Lately se Ch'en'ya has been talking a great deal about the Destroyer. When she first came to Zor'a, I got a glimpse of what I assumed is the Destroyer; she was standing next to him.
"In the scene she was about this age. I just get the feeling that he's about to make an entrance—and se Ch'en'ya knows something about it."
"Do you think she has met him already?"
"I don't believe so."
"Why?"
"Simple enough," Jackie said. "She's still here. She's not—wherever she's going to be, standing next to a pile of vuhl corpses."
"You've never told her about that vision—that sSurch'a—have you, se Jackie?"
"There didn't seem to be any benefit to it. No, I've never told her that she might be the Destroyer's left wing. I've discussed it with hi Sa'a and se Byar, but not with her."
"What does Admiral Anderson think of se Ch'en'ya?"
Jackie thought for a moment. "I don't believe he's given it much thought—but I suspect that he won't be happy to have her present. He probably views the Talon of esLi—if he thinks about it at all—as some sort of radical sect within the People."
"And not as the Destroyer's left wing. And friends."
"I doubt whether he's made the association. Are you suggesting that I make it for him? Admiral Anderson must have more on his mind than the Destroyer. He's got a war to fight."
"I don't see how the two are inseparable, se Jackie."
"se Alan," said a familiar voice.
Alan Howe turned from looking at a newsvid to see a zor crossing the station deck toward him. Out of courtesy, perhaps, she was walking and not flying; it made it easier to read her wings as she approached. It was an attitude of joy.
Joy? Ch'en'ya hardly knows that wing-position, he thought to himself as she came close enough to grasp his forearms. He kept his face impassive as he returned the gesture.
"In the Name of esLi I greet you, se Alan," Ch'en'ya HeYen said, releasing his arms and moving her wings to the Stance of Comradeship. "It has been too long since you last visited the homeworld of the People."
Alan and Ch'en'ya had trained together at Sanctuary a quarter-century earlier. They'd worked closely at times, though her involvement with the Talon of esLi—a group of young and equally angry zor Sensitives—had drawn them apart within the last few years.
It was all a matter of philosophy, he supposed.
"Admiral Anderson keeps me fairly busy, se Ch'en'ya," he answered. "This is a long way from the war zone."
"Indeed." She shrugged, a human gesture. "The war of ships and battles, perhaps. But some would argue that we fight the esGa'uYal here as well."
"I . . . suppose so. Still, I'm just here to gather information."
"You will be visiting Sanctuary?"
". . . Not exactly. I'm here to see ha Jackie."
"I see." Her wing-position changed suddenly: it took on hostile undertones. "I'm sure that you will find your conversations helpful."
"You don't think so."
"Eight thousand pardons, se Alan," Ch'en'ya said, moving her wings again. "I do not mean to suggest anything. The Gyaryu'har will be most enlightening, I am sure."
"Tell me what you really think."
Ch'en'ya looked away from him, watching the vid for a few moments. "Friend Alan, it does not serve esLi for me to criticize ha Jackie: she serves the High Nest as do I. But it seems to me that . . . she does not fully understand the nature of this war."
"She understood it before any of us, se Ch'en'ya. She fought the servants of esGa'u; she pierced the Icewall."
"Pah."
Still her favorite word, Alan thought. "You understand things in a way she doesn't, I take it."
"se Alan. I am sure that the efforts of the Imperial Navy are noble, the acts of true warriors. But ultimately only one thing can defeat the esHara'y and the esGa'uYal they serve: the Destroyer."
"Oh? What more do you know about the Destroyer, se Ch'en'ya?"
Her wings rose to an unfamiliar position; she looked away, down the deck, and then back at Alan. "Only that we are all waiting for the Destroyer to come."
The official residence of the Gyaryu'har had once been the home of a stranger, but over time Jackie had made it her own: a small model of the memorial on Dieron's First Landing Hill; pictures of her father, her cousin Kristen, and Kristen's husband Dan; a casual, smiling pose with Barbara MacEwan, taken at Adrianople just after it had been retaken in 2397; one of Th'an'ya, Ch'en'ya's mother and Ch'k'te's mate, whom she never met in life but knew so well from when she went to retrieve the gyaryu twenty-five years ago.
Jackie Laperriere received her old friend Alan Howe in the sitting-room. An alHyu showed him in, his wings conveying a sense of deep respect; if Alan had had wings, he would've done the same. Jackie did her best to set him at ease, first grasping forearms in zor fashion and then taking his hand and showing him to a chair.
"You're a long way from the front, Alan. Something important must've brought you here."
"I'm here with Admiral Anderson . . . but I still swing a little weight, ha Jackie. I thought I was welcome to visit anytime."
"Of course you are." She smiled. "But Erich keeps you on a tight leash. Something's happened, so out with it. What brings you to Zor'a?"
"I had an unsettling experience, something you might be able to help with. You know that we took a partly built hive-ship at Tamarind."
"I heard about that. Nice work."
"It would've been, if I could take credit for it. We almost didn't get out of that alive—the Drone in command was out of my league. Way out of my league. We got some help."
"What sort of help?"
Alan grasped the arms of his chair and looked away. "I . . . think we got a visit from an esGa'uYe."
"Oh?"
"During the final assault, we met a man. At least, he looked like one: a scrawny guy, wearing a naval uniform of the last century. Had a smirk on his face as he talked. He didn't show up the vidrec—but I met him. I know it."
"Stone." Jackie's hand strayed to the hilt of the gyaryu, lying on a sword-rest within reach. "Stone. What did he say?"
"This is someone you know."
"Your instinct is right on target," Jackie said. "What did he say?" she repeated.
"He said that the Destroyer had arrived—no, that wasn't quite it." Alan pinched his nose, closing his eyes. "He told me that things were about to change . . . and that the Destroyer was 'already here.'"
"Already where? Aboard the hive-ship?"
"I don't know. He may have meant it metaphorically, not to imply that the Destroyer was in the room or aboard the ship."
Jackie removed her hand from the sword and folded her hands in her lap.
"Alan, we've known each other a long time. The entire war."
Alan Howe smiled. "Most of it. You didn't think much of me at first, as I recall."
"We've gotten over that," Jackie answered, smiling. "At least I have. When I first knew you, I was about the only thing standing between the vuhls and the Empire: and that was because I had that." She pointed to the gyaryu.
"I know the story."
"Do you? Most people don't, not really." She stood up and walked to the sideboard and picked up the holo of Th'an'ya. "I was chosen, Alan. I was sent on a quest to go find the sword, to take it out of the grasp of the esGa'uYal. The only problem with the story is that I wasn't chosen by the zor: I was chosen by the esGa'uYal themselves to follow a specific course that resulted in getting the sword.
"Stone both helped me and tried to stop me. At First Josephson, where you and I first met, Stone tried to take the gyaryu away from me—and then, when he failed, gave me the key to rescuing Ch'en'ya. That was the last I ever saw of him."
"That was twenty-five years ago."
"That's right." She set the Th'an'ya-holo down again and turned to face Alan. "He's been out of the picture, away from the action. It's as if he's been waiting for something."
"The Destroyer."
"Sure. The Destroyer. What in hell does that mean? Is it something like esHu'ur, a mystical force that gets personified somehow?"
"There's no way to know. I'm not even clear how you learned about 'the Destroyer' in the first place," Alan added.
"Stone. He showed me," she said. "I've seen the Destroyer—I'll know him when I see him."
"This is the same guy who turned up at the party at Tamarind. Now there's a trustworthy source."
"I believe what he showed me. He's never lied to me. If he says that the Destroyer is here—whatever that means, whoever that means—then I believe him. I don't know the significance of the statement. Worst of all, I don't know what he's been doing for twenty-five years while we've been fighting the vuhls."
"Helping them, do you think?"
"Stone can walk through jump. He can appear in visions and affect reality. If he—or who he works for—wanted the vuhls to win, don't you think they would have won by now? Christ, Alan, they could have delivered us to the vuhls a long time ago . . . if that's what they wanted."
"Then they're on our side. They were at Tamarind."
"That doesn't mean anything."
"It meant my ass, Jackie, mine and a whole lot of Marines," Alan said, forgetting the prenomen when he answered. He took a deep breath and continued. "I'm not prepared to pass judgment on the big picture, on what the esGa'uYal are trying to accomplish: but on the microlevel they chose to favor us at Tamarind. They wanted us to win there and survive. Lord knows I did, too."
"He chose to help us there as part of a larger pattern," Jackie said. "We're being maneuvered into position for something bigger—the Destroyer and whatever he represents."
"I'd rather be alive to get maneuvered."
The chamber clearly had been designed with both humans and zor in mind. In addition to perches, there were chairs placed in various locations in the room. In lieu of a central table—still a common feature in conference rooms across the Empire—each seat had a small table-surface hovering within arm's reach.
As Jim Agropoulous and his staff entered, they saw Admiral Anderson engaged in quiet conversation with Sa'a HeYen, High Lord of the People. Representatives of various branches of the military, as well as diplomatic representatives and a few Guardians, were preparing for the briefing.
Alan caught Jackie's eye as they approached. She was scowling, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of the gyaryu. As he watched, she turned her gaze aside; he followed it, his glance coming to rest where Jackie was looking: at a group of younger zor grouped near the podium at the front of the room. He recognized Ch'en'ya immediately, though her back was turned to him. He'd known that the Talon of esLi had been invited to the briefing; when Jim Agropoulous had mentioned it during the trip here, he'd said they should be ready for anything.
"Thanks," Jim had said. "But that's your job."
Agropoulous came to a halt a few meters from the admiral and the High Lord, his officers just behind him. The two dignitaries concluded their conversation and turned to face them.
"General," Admiral Erich Anderson said, exchanging a salute. "I believe you have not had the pleasure of meeting hi Sa'a?"
"No sir," Agropoulous answered. He offered a salute to the High Lord. She reached out her taloned hands and lightly grasped his arms; he returned the gesture. The High Lord was known for her informality; but the general was still surprised—despite his rank, here at the High Nest he could be classified as "no one of importance."
"In the name of the High Nest I greet you, se General." Her wings moved slightly to a position Jim recognized as a friendly one. "I understand that your forces had an . . . interesting experience."
"se Alan's experience was the most interesting, hi Sa'a," the general replied, letting his arms fall to his sides. He nodded to Howe, who stepped forward and inclined his head. "I assume that you read the report."
"It has received wide circulation." Sa'a nodded in the direction of Ch'en'ya. "Things are changing, se General. Our war is changing."
"We'll still be fighting it the same way, High Lord."
"Can you be sure of that?" Sa'a's wing-position changed again as she turned away.
"'Operation Elysium' began four months ago," Anderson began, displaying a 3-V diagram of the Imperial frontier in the center of the room. "After the attack at Evangeline in October 2421, the Admiralty had evolved a plan to remove the threat to the region involving two Imperial fleets.
"At the beginning of 'Elysium,' my command attacked the vuhl forward base at New Harare, while Admiral MacEwan's force moved to engage the vuhl squadron base at IGS 44978. The objective in each case was to remove enemy offensive capability and to prevent attacks into the adjoining sector of Imperial space."
Icons representing the strength of each fleet appeared next to target indicators. They appeared in two columns: one prior to the attack, and one following.
"Both systems were heavily defended. New Harare cost my force four capital ships and eleven support vessels, though enemy losses were much higher and included two hive-ships under construction. Admiral MacEwan's force suffered fewer casualties, though they required an additional five Standard days to eliminate static defenses and clear minefields.
"My force proceeded to Rivières, three parsecs distant from New Harare. This system served as an intermediate refueling stop for enemy forces; removing it from vuhl control would give us access to several worlds deeper in enemy space."
"Including Tamarind," Ch'en'ya said, interrupting Anderson's presentation. He had taken a breath to continue but stopped, looking across the room at the group of zor perched together.
"Civilians," Jim whispered to Alan, a scowl on his face.
"Yes," Anderson said. "Including Tamarind and several other systems. We sought to eliminate the threat to Evangeline and its neighboring systems and we were prepared to do it one system at a time. Every star within jump range of Evangeline had to be examined to determine whether it was suitable for basing enemy ships.
"Between Admiral MacEwan's force and my own, we found six small bases. Each had to be reduced and neutralized. In addition, we were forced to respond to a vuhl incursion at Towson, which was repelled with heavy casualties."
The admiral's report droned on. Alan listened with half an ear; he'd read the briefing already. Instead, he cast his Sensitive awareness outward. Slowly, the sounds of Anderson's voice, the background noise of the room, the ventilators, and the faint rustling of zor wings faded away into silence. It was one of the first techniques he had learned from Byar HeShri, Master of Sanctuary, a quarter-century ago.
In the silence, he could feel rather than hear his own heart beating. Closing his eyes would have attracted attention, so he just let them blur slightly as he let his breathing slow. The image of each person in the room faded and was replaced by a faint glow, like a distant star. Each was a slightly different color; for example, Jim Agropoulous was a faintly purplish blue, while Admiral Anderson was of a lighter-hued aqua.
Across the way, the members of the Talon of esLi were various shades of green—from a deep-emerald for Ch'en'ya, to pale, almost-transparent greens for some others . . . and there was something else faint and almost unrecognizable.
Unless you were looking for it, Alan thought to himself.
He looked closer, letting his awareness focus on the members of the Talon of esLi. He could see something very much like a faint ribbon of rainbow light weaving in and out and around the eight glowing lights on the other side of the chamber.
As he watched, the rainbow suddenly solidified, coiling and rearing like a snake. Across the silence, Alan thought he heard a rasping hiss—
He reached out and swept a reader from his desk to the floor. He didn't hear it hit; but suddenly his vision of glowing spheres and a snake of rainbow light vanished. The room was suddenly filled with sound; Anderson had stopped speaking and was scowling at him.
Alan made a great show of picking up the reader and stylus. General Agropoulous was looking at him, along with everyone else in the room.
"Colonel Howe, if you please," Anderson said, obviously upset at being interrupted. He clearly thought it had been no more than a clumsy move by an inattentive Sensitive.
Ch'en'ya was staring directly at him, though; she'd felt something.
"I beg your pardon, Admiral," Alan said, carefully placing the reader on the table.
"If I may continue." Anderson did, returning to a detailed discussion of the battle at Wolfram Minor, the last major engagement before the attack on the hive-ship at Tamarind.
"So?" Agropoulous whispered without turning around.
"There's something there," Alan answered. "Something's hanging around the Talon of esLi."
"'Something,'" Agropoulous repeated.
"It's hard to describe, so I won't try. But we've got some kind of company here."
"'Here'? In this room?"
"Around the Talon," Alan whispered. "I think they know, too."
Ch'en'ya was still looking directly at him. Her wings were in a position that indicated affront; he was quite familiar with that configuration.
Comes easy to her, he thought to himself.
"I'll want a report on this."
"You just got it, sir," Alan replied.
". . . which brings us to Tamarind," Anderson was saying, looking again at Alan over the top of his nose. "You have all received vidrec information on the assault on the incomplete hive-ship in the Tamarind System last month.
"An analysis of the hive-ship tech is already under way at the Shiell Institute in New Chicago System. The Admiralty is most appreciative to the High Nest for its assistance in this regard."
Anderson nodded to Sa'a, who inclined her head and arranged her wings in a posture of deference. "The matter of 'the Destroyer' is of prime interest to us, though the data gathered from the current campaign has produced another result."
Anderson gestured above his control pad. A series of lines extended outward from New Harare, Rivières, Wolfram Minor, Tamarind, Towson, and each of the six bases the current offensive had neutralized. They tracked across the empty space until they crossed at a star about fifteen parsecs distant from Tamarind—the farthest the Navy had yet penetrated into vuhl space.
"Additional investigation of jump-echoes going back before the battle at Evangeline confirm the evidence shown on the display. This system"—a series of datarecs appeared next to the star—"is a major base of some sort. Seizure of this base would deal a major blow to the enemy. This system—"
"—is the homeworld of the esHara'y," Ch'en'ya said. Those in the room reacted to the interruption: the humans, with angry faces; the zor, with wings raised in alarm or affront. If the look Anderson had given Alan was a withering one, the glance he leveled at Ch'en'ya was "shoot to kill."
"se Ch'en'ya—" the High Lord began.
"Ch'en'ya, damn it—" Jackie started, but a second later; she stopped, realizing that she was interrupting Sa'a. Anger was radiating from her like heat.
"hi Sa'a. With your permission." Anderson held out his hands, palms up.
Sa'a's wings were raised, but she let them lower again. "se Ch'en'ya," Anderson continued. "You are clearly here to test my patience and punish me for my transgressions, but I am quite capable of exercising patience and enduring punishment since you are here at the behest of the High Nest.
"But this is a military briefing. We are seeking to make military decisions on the basis of military judgment. We have no conclusive evidence that this is the vuhl homeworld. Indeed, I doubt it: this seems merely to be the source of recent vuhl incursions.
"I do not have an adequate explanation for why this might be the case, but to assume that this system is their homeworld is faulty reasoning, and I don't believe it."
Ch'en'ya appeared ready to interrupt again, and Anderson hurried on. "I am certain that you will speak of the Destroyer, of the Icewall, of the esHara'y and the esGa'uYal, and the triumph of the Golden Circle against Despite. Yes," he continued, "I know all of the words, all of the key players, and I've read up on the legends. But this is a war, damn it. This is not poetry: this is strategy. I am not convinced that you have anything to say.
"I humbly ask eight thousand pardons, High Lord," the admiral said now, turning to Sa'a and inclining his head. "I do not mean to offend the High Nest in any way."
"Your honor is spotless, se Admiral," High Lord Sa'a answered. She glanced at Ch'en'ya, whose wings returned to a posture of deference though her eyes still flashed with anger. "You have shown great tolerance to permit these Nestlings to attend this meeting, and I, in turn, ask eight thousand pardons of you for their behavior.
"Nonetheless, I believe that they have important communications to make at this time. Regrettably, they will refer to the esHara'y and the eternal conflict between the servants of esLi and the Lord of Despite. It is the way we think; it is the way that we experience the Flight of the People. Whether you find this palatable or not, you must accept this circumstance.
"If you do not wish to permit them to speak, the High Nest is prepared to accept this. But it is the counsel of the High Nest that to choose that flight would be an error."
Sa'a settled herself on her perch. She'd said her piece and had left it to Anderson to make a decision.
"All right," he said after a moment. It was clear that he was ready to blow the Talon of esLi out of the room, but the High Lord had intervened. "se Ch'en'ya, I am ready to hear what the Talon has to say." He waved his hand across his control tablet, transferring control to Ch'en'ya, and sat down.
Ch'en'ya let her wings settle into a posture of amusement. As she extended her hands and laid them on the table in front of her, she appeared to be studiously ignoring the hostile wing-positions of other People in the room.
"ha Admiral, hi Sa'a." Ch'en'ya nodded to each of the dignitaries, "ha Gyaryu'har," she added, after a moment almost long enough to be insulting.
"The People and their human allies have fought against the esHara'y for a generation. Nestling to adult, my generation has experienced war against an implacable enemy with no face. They wield the Sword of Despite with no remorse and with the skill of their esGa'uYal masters.
"We are faced with the naked darkness of anGa'e'ren, as was the great hero Qu'u in the Mountains of Despite." Again she glanced at Jackie. "This tradition is one that is even known to the naZora'i." She paused and looked around the room. "They believe that the cause of fear that anGa'e'ren engenders is due to the pulling aside of the Shroud of Despite. This, however, is only a part of the cause.
"There is more to it than that. Qu'u was a warrior of the People, a bearer of a chya before he held the gyaryu. A warrior confronts the enemies in the reach of his sword, enemies he can face and whose motives and goals are known to him.
"The enemy we now face gives us no indication. Where the esHara'y attack, why they attack, and what they hope to gain by this war, remain a mystery after these many turns. It is obvious that courage and honor are not enough to defeat this enemy, si Qu'u himself, were he here to lead us, could not slay enough esHara'y to end this war.
"It is clear that we—humans and People alike—need a power greater than courage, a strength beyond honor.
"We must embrace enGa'e'Li, the Strength of Madness."
The word in the Highspeech echoed in the chamber. Those present were now silent and listening carefully. Even the High Lord, who should have by rights been offended by this flight, gave no indication of affront.
The wings of Ch'en'ya, normally so full of anger, conveyed a fierce joy. "Our enemies fear the Strength of Madness. They fear it personified—that it will come as the Destroyer. In truth, hi Sa'a, ha Admiral, they have every reason to fear this.
"We of the Talon of esLi believe that the Destroyer has already come."
"Based on the . . . Based on a Sensitive experience on a vuhl vessel," Anderson interrupted. "That does not seem very convincing."
"It is more than that, ha Admiral. The omens are all suggestive of the coming of the Destroyer." She turned toward the High Lord. "The High Lord has dreamed this . . . has she not?"
Sa'a's wings now took on a position of anger. Her talons were clenched in her hands as she stood rigidly on her perch. Clearly this was something she had not expected to discuss.
"It is true," she said at last.
"What is more," Ch'en'ya continued, as if the point she had just scored was no more than a mark in a debate, "the pattern of esHara'y attacks, coupled with coast-watcher intel and other relevant information that you have not yet presented, suggest to us that this system—" She indicated it with a talon on the display, and it was highlighted on every screen in the chamber and on the holo in the center. "—is indeed the homeworld of the esHara'y. A strike at this world, with the combined might of the People and the humans, would surely result in the destruction of the enemy and the end of the war."
"And would be tactically unwise," Anderson retorted. "Ardor in battle is admirable, but does not win wars. This— This 'Strength of Madness' is madness indeed. I've read what the Talon of esLi has written about enGa'e'Li, se Ch'en'ya, and I'm not convinced."
"Pah," she replied. "This is not a warrior's flight you choose."
Anderson did not answer, nor did he let the expression on his face change; but even from across the room Alan could see anger in his eyes as he seemed to be considering a reply.
"Your contribution to the briefing is noted," Sa'a said at last. "You have the thanks of the High Nest, se Ch'en'ya." She inclined her head toward the main entrance to the chamber.
Ch'en'ya looked at the High Lord. It was a dismissal, no doubt about it; perhaps she had more to say, and perhaps she wanted to cross blades—figuratively or literally—with Admiral Anderson.
Whatever her wishes, Ch'en'ya did not seem willing to contravene the wish of her High Lord. Almost at once, all of the members of the Talon of esLi inclined their wings in a posture of deference to the High Lord and then took off, flying across the chamber and through the doorway without another word.
Anderson emerged from the room after the briefing was concluded, steam seeming to rise from his head as he walked. Alan had no intention of speaking with the admiral in this situation, but he found himself in the line of fire as Anderson approached.
"Howe," he said.
"Sir."
"Ch'en'ya."
"Yes sir."
"I want to understand," Anderson said, obviously holding in his anger. "I want to know the reason I should have her, or anyone else from her cabal, in a military briefing ever again."
"I'm not sure what you want me to tell you, sir."
"Tell me about Ch'en'ya first. Who the hell is she, really?"
"She's . . . It's a bit complicated, Admiral. She is, or rather was, the ward of the Gyaryu'har. Her mother was si Th'an'ya, a Sensitive of the High Nest who disappeared on an exploratory mission; her father was si Ch'k'te, a warrior of the High Nest and officer in His Majesty's Navy."
"Assigned to Cicero."
"That's right, sir. He was posted to Cicero when the war broke out, and was killed at Crossover during ha Jackie's quest to recover the gyaryu. se Ch'en'ya was found, along with a group of other zor, after First Josephson."
"'Found'?"
"The expedition that included si Th'an'ya had crashed in an uncharted system, ha Jackie found them and brought se Ch'en'ya back to Zor'a. And, before you ask me, sir, I have no idea how she found them."
"And the reason she has a hair across her—across her—"
"se Ch'en'ya is mad at the universe, Admiral. She blames her mother for having died in childbirth; she blames the People for leaving her in exile through most of her childhood. She's angry at her own race for being too restrained in their prosecution of the war; she's angry at us for not being warriors of the People. She hates the esGa'uYal, she hates the vuhls.
"She wants to pursue this war without recourse to logic or strategy, sir. She wants to drive her chya into the thorax of every vuhl, and she wants to do it personally."
"Has she ever actually killed one?" Admiral Anderson asked.
"More than one. And at least one—"
"—esGa'uYe."
"At least one of those, at Sanctuary, when she was an adolescent. She's dangerous, no doubt about it."
"Is she a threat?"
"To what, sir?"
"Let me put it differently: is she a security risk?"
"I couldn't say, Admiral. For the last several years, she and the Talon of esLi have pretty much gone where they wanted, said what they wanted, done what they wanted. I don't think they're working for the enemy."
Anderson grunted. "She can be as loyal as she wants and still be a security risk. Will the High Nest be in a snit if I have her watched or followed?"
"I don't think so, sir. I believe se Ch'en'ya is a bit of a problem child for hi Sa'a at the moment. The greatest danger would be from se Ch'en'ya herself."
"She'd be violent?"
Alan thought about the question for just a moment before replying. "She's . . . unpredictable, Admiral. I can't say what she'd do."
Admiral Anderson turned to Jim Agropoulous, who'd done his best to stay out of the conversation thus far.
"Jim, you're to keep her at a distance from all military briefings, sensitive comps, or comm lines. By force if necessary. You read?"
"Loud and clear, Admiral."