Offices of the Supreme Council for the Preservation of the Faith, city of McNair, Commitment
Fleet Admiral Jorge sat down opposite an impassive Polk. Jorge’s heart was racing, and his stomach churned with a sick dread. He only had one chance left, and if he did not take it, he would finish the day facedown in the bottom of a quicklime-filled trench. Polk had not needed to threaten him. Jorge knew how things worked. He did not wait for Polk to open the proceedings.
“Sir, as you instructed, we’ve looked at the implications of the Feds’ declaration of war, and my staff and I are agreed that it changes nothing. We-”
Polk’s impassivity collapsed. “Changes nothing?” he hissed venomously, smashing the flat of his hand onto the desk, the sharp crack making Jorge jump. “Changes nothing? By Kraa, you had better pray that I believe that, Admiral.”
Jorge’s hands went up as if Polk were about to launch himself across the desk to rip his throat out.
“Sir. Bear with me, please,” Jorge pleaded. “Fleet has never, ever worked on the assumption that we could keep the Feds in the dark until we launched Operation Damascus. That would have been unforgivable. There are simply too many points of failure to be sure. So, while we hoped they would never find out, we have always assumed they might, and for that reason Rear Admiral Keniko and his planners have long had a fallback plan in case.”
Polk’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. This was news to him; it all sounded rather convenient.
Jorge plowed on. “Sir, I have Admiral Keniko outside. I think the best thing would be for me to have him explain the changes. I think you will see that far from setting us back, the Feds’ declaration of war may play straight into our hands. In a nutshell, we believe we can achieve all the operational objectives we set for Operation Damascus and possibly more. Our plans will change, but our objectives won’t. If anything, our chances of success are much improved. So may I bring Keniko in?”
Polk nodded, trying not to encourage the little germ of hope that had sprung to life.
Jorge returned, followed by an extremely anxious-looking Keniko. Polk was not sure why Keniko was looking so worried. Kraa’s blood, he was the only man in the room without a death sentence hanging over his head.
Polk did not waste time. “Let’s hear it, Keniko,” he growled, “and you’d better pray that I’m convinced.”
“Sir!” Keniko was quite unable to conceal the tiny tremble of fear in his voice.