Carnifex

3/6/468 AC, BdL Dos Lindas, Nicobar Straits

Except for having gone to a much heightened state of alert, and maintaining a lookout for Gallic vessels of war, the election had not much affected the carrier or her escorts. They, like the single legion now deployed on the border between Pashtia and Kashmir, had a contract to fulfill. Now, without the specter of a major war with Taurus in the offing, the classis was able, once again, to concentrate solely on pirate hunting.

Which was . . . disappointing. Since the flotilla had arrived on station piracy in the straits had dropped to, essentially, nothing.

"It's almost as if someone's told them to lay off," Fosa said, looking enquiringly at Kurita standing on the bridge overlooking the calm waters.

"Someone has," Kurita answered, cryptically. "We don't know why. It could be as simple as the hope that if there's no piracy for a while the zaibatsu will curtail your contract and send you home. It could be just fear—well founded fear, too, I might add—of what the classis will do if there are any incidents. It could be . . . " Kurita's eyes looked skyward.

Fosa's eyes, too, traveled upward. Fucking Earth-pigs.