The drone did not need to search now, for he understood precisely how Brumallians filed things. He reached up with one extended claw and flipped open a quadrant drawer. From this he removed a single recording disk. He slipped this into his mouth, shunted it through, played it inside himself, and confirmed that he had what he wanted.

Whether Orduval would be pleased with this trophy was debatable, but hopefully it might prevent further graveyards like the one presently all around Tigger.

Harald

As Harald stepped onto the Bridge, he glanced around at the replacement personnel he had organised and concealed his satisfaction. Everyone was now in position, and the Bridge was abuzz as Ironfist slowed to its new position and prepared for the retaliatory strike against the Brumallians.

He walked over to Firing Control and stood behind the officers operating the instruments aligned there. After a moment he set his headset to route his voice through the ship's public-address system.

"Everyone, I want you to listen closely." The buzz of activity cooled and everyone on the Bridge turned towards him. "We have now confirmed that the missile strike against Captain Inigis's ship was instigated by a rogue schism within the Brumallian society designated BC32—otherwise known as Vertical Vienna. It has also been confirmed that this dissident group was assisted by as yet unidentified agents of a Sudorian organisation."

Harald scanned the room as a disbelieving mutter arose from many—but many more just waited, hard-faced and patient. He considered how most of those here had been children during the War, and how they would react to his next words.

"Parliament, having reinstated our wartime prerogative of independent crisis management up to and including the use of lethal force, therefore approves of the action we must perforce take." He glanced down at those looking up at him from Firing Control. "Let us now remember why Fleet exists. Many of you here did not fight in the War. I did not either. But many did, and many more died for the freedoms we enjoy today. Millions of Sudorian citizens died, millions lived lives of privation and died never knowing peace. We cannot let that happen to us again. It is our duty to prevent it happening again, and to that end we must be harsh and uncompromising."

He pointed to the Munitions Officer. "Prepare for a warhead launch from Silo Fourteen, back-up in Thirteen." Now he pointed to the Targeting Officer. "Target BC32."

Looking around the room, Harald registered the expressions of shock.

"It is a terrible thing we do here today, but the consequences could be more terrible still if we did nothing. We cannot allow this provocation to pass. We cannot allow the war to begin again." Harald paused. "I will now obtain confirmation from Admiral Carnasus himself." Stripping off the headset he headed for the stair, knowing that many would question his orders, but none would disobey him. As he reached the stair he glanced across at the four Bridge guards near the main doors. Two of them immediately detached from their group and slowly, casually, began making their way over. It was all working perfectly to plan—perfectly visualised and now being exactly executed—yet now the reality was beginning to bite. Harald felt his stomach tighten and a sudden onset of nausea. He paused, removing his side arm, as protocol dictated, then felt the sudden need to just turn and run. But he also felt like simply one cog in the unstoppable machine that was his own plan. Teeth gritted, he climbed, finally stepping up into the Admiral's haven.

"So, Harald, is everything prepared?" asked Carnasus.

Harald eyed him, realising the Admiral was in his more lucid mode. The old man stood with his hands behind his back, gazing through the narrow window across the body of the hilldigger, which now stood in silhouette against the backdrop of Brumal. Harald glanced around and noted Lieutenant Alun seated on a couch just in front of the glass case containing the Admiral's collection of trophies and awards.

"It is all prepared," Harald replied.

Carnasus turned. "So why a five-megaton warhead?"

"Because, though Parliament will accept our necessary excision of BC32, it would not be prepared to accept the damage a larger warhead or a gravity disruptor might cause to BC31, which is indirectly linked by tunnels to our target."

"But you think they will accept the destruction of Vertical Vienna itself?"

Harald paused for a moment. He had expected Carnasus to be more lucid than usual now, since the exigency of the situation could produce no less than that effect, but the old man seemed worryingly sharp. Here then was a hint of the Carnasus who had commanded this ship during the last five years of the War. A man to be admired, and not just… Harald could feel the sweat slick on his hands. He closed his eyes for a moment and felt something shift inside his head. Yes, what happened now was inevitable, and regret was merely wasted energy. He opened his eyes, dried his palms against his foamite suit—and knew they would now remain dry.

"They will have to accept it," he confirmed.

"Yes, they would have…" Carnasus blinked, looked momentarily confused, then hardened again. "Return to the Bridge, Harald, and cancel the strike."

"Why do you—?"

"Are you questioning my orders, Tacom?"

"Yes, I am. I am questioning the orders of a man who is obviously no longer fit to be Admiral. We cannot let the Brumallians get away with this."

Carnasus glared at him, then slowly his expression softened. Harald noted Alun stand up and begin moving over. Like Harald he appeared unarmed—having left his side arm down below.

"Harald," said the Admiral, "I have always wanted to see Fleet remain pre-eminent in the Sudorian system, and I have always felt that we should have exterminated all the Brumallians. But I would rather see our hilldiggers scrapped in the sun than stand by and watch you start a civil war."

Harald could not believe that he now wanted to cry. Angrily he clamped down on the feeling. "Then you are a fool."

Carnasus just looked tired as he raised his arm and spoke into a wrist communicator. "Guards, get up here now." Lowering his arm he stepped closer to Harald. "The loss of the Consul Assessor is no particular loss to me, and I could even accept that you used a Fleet Special Operations team to accomplish it. But Combine, Harald? A civil war between Fleet and Orbital Combine?"

"I'm so sorry," said Harald, something catching in his throat—and he truly was. Hearing the sound of boots on the stair leading up, he stepped sideways, spun, the edge of his hand cracking hard against Alun's temple. The man dropped instantly, without a sound.

"So sorry," Harald repeated, reaching inside a belt pocket to withdraw the small Combine-manufacture pistol he had obtained many months before. Two shots spun the old man off his feet. Harald stepped over, glancing back as the two guards entered. He stood over Carnasus and shot him twice more, through the head, then turned as his guts suddenly twisted up. After a second he staggered to one side, abruptly crouched and vomited on the floor. This physical reaction had been unexpected. He gave himself a moment to recover, then stood up again and wiped his mouth. One of the guards, he saw, was staring up at the recording heads mounted in the ceiling. "Don't worry about them. They'll show exactly what I want them to show." Walking over, he dropped the pistol down beside Alun. "Just as the recordings of this one's interrogation will."

One of the men stooped to turn the unconscious officer over and cuff him.

"Now," said Harald, "I have some terrible news to deliver about the assassination of our Admiral by Orbital Combine. And I have a missile to launch."