Another point that left a sour taste in Jonah’s mouth. “No. Conner Monroe stole a march on us there, as well.”

In fact, Jonah had put armed forces around Ptolomeny’s Riviera estate. And then was forced to back them off when Sir Conner led in a double squad of the Senatorial Honor Guard to “secure” the area.

“The Senate polices its own,” Monroe had said in a short press statement. “That is how Devlin Stone set things up. We will guard Senator Ptolomeny until an honor court establishes her guilt or innocence.”

And the Riviera was not all. Conner, drawing from the garrisons and a large reserve of personal “guards” kept by most nobles, had forced border closures in England and in India. The Senate, through their newest member, all but controlled the entire nation-state of Germany, and the Siberian proving grounds were under a new communications blackout now as well—presumably under Senate orders.

It was a hot-button situation, one that had forced Jonah to discuss more extreme measures with his ghost paladin. The Republic, according to historical files to which Jonah was now privy, had handled similar situations in the past. And not always with above-board tactics. Was it time to remove Conner Rhys-Monroe—the former Knight of the Sphere—completely from the equation?

The ghost paladin had not recommended it one way or the other. He’d simply told his exarch, “It can be arranged.”

Jonah Levin had not slept soundly in the last three days since that meeting.

“I’m not sure what ComStar can do for you,” May said, his deep voice revealing a measure of uncertainty. “We’re hardly in a position to come between the exarch and the Senate.”

“Don’t dissemble, Precentor.” Jonah leaned forward, his gaze biting hard at the other man. “ComStar has a long and mostly infamous history of involving itself in just this kind of trouble. I’m simply inviting it on behalf of the exarch’s office.”

Héloïse played the conciliator. “We understand ComStar was forced to dismantle its primary intelligence-gathering operations after the Jihad,” she said. “No government trusted an organization proven to pry into interstellar communications at their own discretion. At the same time, no one believed they could completely restrict such activities either. A devil’s bargain if ever there was one.”

“And an image we’ve worked very hard to overcome,” May said. His face hardened into an unreadable mask.

“I’m not asking for the keys to Pandora’s box,” Jonah pressed. “But if there is anything you can give me to help get a handle on the situation, ComStar owes it to The Republic. Devlin Stone stood by you when every Great House stood ready to pull your organization apart. He gave you a home on Terra again. He lent to you from his own credibility. Now the walls of Camelot are beginning to crumble, Precentor, and you are on the same side as we are.”

“ComStar appreciates that, sir. I am to extend the personal awareness of Primus Koenigs-Cober as well. And her pledge of assistance, such as it comes.” He spread his hands open, as if to emphasize their emptiness. “But I think you do not appreciate ComStar’s current situation, Exarch. We are failing.”

“What do you mean, ‘failing?’” Héloïse asked for the exarch.

“Three years without reliable HPG service? Without our primary income potential? We’ve tapped our reserves to the limit, but ComStar is quickly and officially heading toward bankruptcy.”

“Preposterous.” Jonah thrust himself to his feet. He paced once across the great seal inlaid into his office carpeting, and back. He felt the walls pressing in from all sides, weighing on him. “ComStar must have diversified its operations long ago. Centuries ago! The Blackout cannot have crippled so large a body.”

When the exarch stood, no one sat. Precentor May rose, hands balled into fists. “It can! And believe me, sir, it has done so.”

Then he calmed himself with visible effort, tucking each hand into the opposite sleeve and exhaling his frustration in one long breath.

“Of course we have diversified,” he said. “ComStar owns real estate and resources on a thousand worlds, Exarch. We are the second-largest investor in interstellar markets, behind House Steiner’s Lyran Commonwealth. We own a large percentage of the shipping industry in every Successor State and most Periphery realms as well.” He sighed again. “Of course we have.

“But the Blackout… it’s like an arterial wound. ComStar is hemorrhaging capital and confidence at a rate that would sink most medium-sized realms. We’ve liquidated resources at incredible losses in our efforts to research the cause and to rescue operations. All to no avail. A prudent corporation would have amputated the damaged limb a year ago or more! Instead, we’ve risked the life and livelihood of all of ComStar in order to save the corrupted flesh.”

Jonah looked to Héloïse Montgolfier, who stared back, wide-eyed, as the implications settled home.

“But if ComStar fails,” the exarch said, stumbling through the minefield of disastrous possibilities, “then we could lose even the working HPG stations. And who could ever bring back up the entire network?”

Mankind cast adrift among the stars. Not even the “pony-express” routes being implemented by most Great Houses could keep a nation tied together strongly enough. They had all grown so dependent on interstellar communication. It would take the rise of strong, local warlords to keep everything in line. A decentralization of power.

As The Republic was finding out, that way disaster lay.

May nodded slowly when the exarch gave voice to his concerns. “We are not far from that now, Exarch. Only the working stations and our A hubs are fully staffed at this point.” He huffed out more frustration. “In some places, adepts have begun praying to the machines again!” He withdrew one hand from a sleeve and plucked at the brocaded cuff. “ComStar is dusting off its robes, Exarch. Prayer may be our final hope.”

“I cannot accept that,” Jonah said. Though some part of him asked can’t? Or won’t?

“Accept it or not, Exarch, that is the way of things at this moment. I am here on behalf of the Primus to offer whatever assistance we can in these dark times, but also to ask for your aid as well. ComStar, too, stands at the brink.”

Allies in sickness and in health. This was the kind of situation where drowning men might climb up each other’s backs in order to be the last one breathing.

“Wait, wait.” Jonah snapped his fingers, clutching at a memory from an earlier briefing by the ghost paladin. “What about the savant you rescued off Wyatt? The one who fixed the local HPG? Don’t you have him at your Australia facilities yet?”

Héloïse looked sharply at the exarch, but remained quiet. She knew many secrets as his chief aide, but not all of them.

May frowned, showing a bit of worry at the breach in security. “Your network is still very good, Exarch.” He tucked his hands away, and shook his head. “He is not in Australia at this time, and I am not authorized to tell you where this adept has been taken. We had hoped for him to be our silver bullet.” May’s expression was carefully neutral. “Our investigations are ongoing.”

“So what you are saying,” Héloïse began in her gift for summation, “is that ComStar is our willing ally but we should not rely too heavily on your ability to remain a credible resource. You might even become a weight around The Republic’s neck that will drag us under with you.”

“Not the most flattering analogy,” May said darkly, “but accurate.”

And instead of finding a lifeline in the troubled political waters, Jonah Levin now had more worries to heap onto the scales against him. Against his Republic. Was there nothing left, then, but the fail-safes planned so long ago by Devlin Stone as The Republic’s last-stand strategies?