'And no one questioned their lack of credentials and flight codes?'
'Regrettably, the pinnace had been pre-loaded with a course plan and transponder codes to take it into the fleet anchorage. They would have been discovered long since had that not been the case. They were clearly looking for a non-military starship like this.'
'These are regular draftees? Infantrymen?'
"Yes.'
'Who could fly a pinnace?'
'The ringleader,' he referred back to the slate, 'one Jonno Lingaart, was a qualified orbital pilot. Worked on the ferries. As I said, a regrettable combination of events.'
I wasn't going to let this go. Madorthene wasn't lying, I was certain of that. But the information he was presenting me with was full of gaps and inconsistencies.
What about the demand for the inspection?'
That came from the pinnace itself. Entirely unofficial. They spotted your ship and improvised. We have sourced the inspection demand to the pinnace's vox-log.'
'No/1 said. He took a step backwards, alert to the anger that was growing in me.
'Sir?'
'I have checked the Essene's communication log. It doesn't tell me the origin of the signals, but it shows the inspection demand came via astro-pathic link, not vox. The pinnace had no astropath/
That's-'
This is the same astropathic link that allocated the Essene its high-anchor buoy. That's been shown as authentic enough. And these men were looking for me. Me, procurator. To kill me. They knew my name/
He went pale and seemed unable to find a reply.
I turned away from him. 'I don't know who these men are – they may indeed have been guard draftees. But someone set them on this course to find me, someone who covered their movements, provided materials and transport, and authenticated their business with this ship. Someone either in the battlefleet or with an outrageous amount of access to its workings. No other explanation fits/
'You're talking of… a conspiracy/
'I am no stranger to underhand behaviour, Madorthene. Nor am I unduly perturbed by attempts on my life. I have enemies. I expect such things. This shows me my enemies are even more powerful than I suspected/
'My lord, I-'
"What is your level of seniority, procurator?'
'I am grade one, magenta cleared, enjoying equivalency with the rank of fleet commodore. I answer directly to Lord Procurator Humbolt/ I knew this from his shoulder flashes, but I wanted to hear him tell me.
'Of course. Your superior wouldn't have trusted such a delicate matter to a junior officer. Nor did he want to show disrespect to me. I trust mis matter is still held in the highest confidence?'