“Understood, sir. Permission to speak candidly?”
“Go ahead.”
“It would help the crew to hear something from you directly. They’re getting everything through newsfeeds now, and it’s an invitation to chaos.”
“I hear you,” she said. “I’ll do what I can.”
“Aye, aye,” Botton said, and braced. She cut the connection. The armistice? There was something . . . something she knew? Some awareness that had slipped into her from the back while she slept? Until she turned to the newsfeeds and the leaked recordings of Nagata and Trejo that the underground had put out, she was reaching for supernatural answers when memory and mundanity were enough. Tanaka knew about the peace between Laconia and the underground because she’d been the one to deliver the offer. Nagata had just gotten around to saying yes.
Tanaka stood in the center of her room, shifting through feeds until she found an apparently unedited copy of the message. The sooner we can establish some working protocols, the sooner we can address this situation. Nagata never mentioned the Duarte girl. She didn’t need to. The daughter was beside the point now—bait for a trap that Tanaka didn’t have to set. It didn’t mean she’d be useless, and it chafed her to think Trejo had given in to Nagata with nothing in return.
She was just starting to think about eating something and whether to send a query of her own to Trejo when a message appeared. It popped up in her secure queue flagged as flash traffic from the admiral himself. She opened it with a flick of her fingers. On the wall screen, Trejo looked angry. His eyes flickered like he was reading something in the air. The sense of gnats wasn’t there, though. The message was just an object, not a mind.
“Okoye sold us out,” Trejo said. “I don’t know how much she and her husband gave away, but we have to assume it’s the farm. The good news is that it’s out in the open now. Bad news is we have to deal with this other shit first. I’ve given them the same report that Ochida sent you. They’ll be sending their best and brightest to the ring gates. I’d like you to be there too.
“Your mission’s the same. Get Duarte and bring him back. Some of the circumstances are a little different. Whatever he’s done, it’s working. Ochida’s not seeing any more San Estebans. The glitches have stopped. Reality’s getting back to normal.”
Tanaka felt a wave of something—rage, fear, nausea—and pushed it away.
“Which means Duarte is still the priority,” Trejo went on. “When you find him we need to understand what he’s doing and take control of it, whatever that entails. Nagata is nominally in charge of ring gate traffic so that we won’t need to keep trying to whistle while we’re pissing, but I want it clear between us: Your Omega status is still very much in place. If you have to choose between fulfilling your mission or preserving this agreement, I trust your judgment.”
The message ended. That was stark enough. Tanaka took a long breath, shifted her shoulders, and put a connection back through to Botton on the Derecho. He answered more quickly this time. She wondered how long it would take to grab a sandwich.
“I’ve communicated with Admiral Trejo,” she said. “I have a message for you to pass on to the crew. Tell them to get ready for launch. We’re burning to the ring space to rendezvous with Nagata and the high consul as soon as I’m back to the ship.”
“Yes, sir,” Botton said.
“Who’s on security detail right now?”
Botton blinked. His gaze cut to the right. For a moment, she had the irrational fear he would say Nobuyuki, though she didn’t think there was anyone with that name on the Derecho.
“Lieutenant De Caamp.”
“Have her send two armed escorts to my rooms on the station immediately.”
“Copy that,” Botton said. “Is there a problem?”
“No. I have a stop to make before I leave the station, and they might not want to let me in,” she said. And then, with a chuckle, “Or back out.”
Just under an hour later, she walked into the psychiatric wing of Gewitter medical complex with two Marines behind her. A young man with unfashionably long hair was at the reception desk. His face went ashy as she stepped up to his desk.
“I’m here to see Dr. Ahmadi,” she said.
“Of course. You can have a seat in the waiting area, and I’ll—”
“I’m here to see Dr. Ahmadi right now.”
“I’m not sure where she is.”