“And are you so sure their hands are clean? Undermining our authority could serve their interests, open a power vacuum they could fill. Maybe they faked the abduction to conceal their collusion.”
“Excuse me,” Mayweather said, his words far more polite than his tone. He’d been listening patiently up to now, but he’d had enough. He stepped forward and loomed over Zehron. “We did not fake the death of Kenji Mishima. He was a member of our crew, part of our family, and we have to grieve for him. Our captain is going to have to write a letter to his mother and his kid sisters back on Alpha Centauri, explaining why he’s never coming home again. Now, I know you aren’t thrilled about the idea of joining the Federation. But that’s no excuse to use a good man’s death as fodder for playing politics.”
The Jelna’s red eyes met his unflinchingly for some moments . . . and then the director’s expression softened marginally. “You are correct, Commander. It was inappropriate. I apologize.”
“On behalf of Crewman Mishima,” Mayweather told him, “I accept your apology.”
The room was quiet for a moment. But then Mayweather began to pace before the directors, meeting their eyes one by one. “Now. We’ve got a time-sensitive situation here. If there’s anything you know that might help us get a handle on where to look, now’s the time to speak up.”
Sajithen rumbled in her throat. “What concerns me most is the use of hypnoids,” the Chelon said. “They are rare creatures—for obvious reasons, difficult to capture. And not easy to train, either. Only certain isolated tribes in the inland forests are adept at finding and taming the beasts.” She hesitated. “Tribes that . . . have ties to a radical nationalist faction on Three. Chelons who believe we are still treated as a backward minority, imposed upon by those who consider themselves our betters.”
“Oh, imagine that,” Zehron muttered. “Leading a primitive existence in the wilds, and they complain that we consider them backward.”
Sajithen made an effort to ignore him. “What they wish most, Commander, is to eliminate what they see as offworld domination. Their militant leanings have been kept in check by . . . certain sympathizers in official positions, who are able to offer peaceful alternatives for advancing their agendas.”
Okay, Travis thought. The look on Zehron’s face reinforced the first officer’s suspicion that those sympathizers included Sajithen herself, though Zehron could not be considered the most trustworthy observer. “So if they don’t like offworld interference, why would they work with the Families and whoever provided the transporters? I assume the Families couldn’t have just stolen the hypnoids—they would’ve needed help to train them.”
“Exactly. What I fear is that they may have made a deal with the most radical nationalists. If the archives’ secrets are revealed, those officials’ ties to the radicals will be exposed, nullifying their appearance of legitimacy and their ability to keep the radicals in check. The result could be open revolt.”
Mayweather frowned. “But what would the Families get out of that?”
“It could weaken the Commission if our members were fighting among themselves,” Zehron replied. “Or divert our effort and resources to Three while they pursued goals elsewhere.”
“Like Two,” Tenott said, “where we know they crave more overt control.”
“Or the Colonies,” Zehron shot back, “where they collude with out-system syndicates or governments seeking an illicit edge.”
Are they always like this? Mayweather wondered. Were they rehashing what were clearly old arguments in hopes of convincing him to take their sides, or was it a habit they’d carry on even without a spectator?
“We can figure that out later,” Mayweather told the directors. “If we know where the kidnappers got the hypnoids, then that’s our lead. We need to track those people down and find out what they know.”
“They will not listen to you,” Sajithen said. “Only to another Chelon. One they know and trust.”
“Can you suggest anybody?” he asked as innocently as he could manage.
She emitted a series of rapid-fire clicks that seemed equivalent to a resigned sigh. “I am from those parts. It would be best if I accompanied you myself.”
“I really appreciate it, Director. It’d be fastest if we took Pioneer . . .”
“Ahh, perhaps your vessel would be more useful elsewhere,” Tenott said. “Our search for the ship that traveled to the colonies around Six has hit a snag. Our scans lost their trail in a shipyard facility. While your drives would be trivially faster than ours over interplanetary distances, your sensor systems may be better able to search than ours.”