Carnifex

UEPF Spirit of Peace

Wallenstein sat her command chair on the ship's bridge fuming. It wasn't enough that she'd sold her soul to Robinson in exchange for a jump in caste. No, that price might have been worth it. But to be cheated out of her price? There was a reason that people used to say "Hell hath no fury . . . "

"Captain, we've got a lot of Novan air traffic near where the Admiral set down," announced one of the lower caste sensor operators, turning away from his console to face his captain.

"Identification?" she asked.

The intelligence officer piped in half a second later. "Almost total radio silence, Captain. Based on flight paths I'm pretty sure they're coming from the mercenary base near Jalala, Pashtia. Their target looks to be the Salafi base in southern Kashmir."

Oh, my. Wallenstein was never so lovely as when her face lit with a smile. She looked particularly beautiful now. Revenge will be sweet.

"Ignore them," she commanded.

"But . . . "

"Ignore them!" she insisted.

"But shouldn't the High Admiral be warned?"

"He knows," she lied, forcing her brain to think quickly. "This is just what he's been waiting for. Send to all ships of the Peace Fleet to cut off all communication except with this ship. Now."