Free Extremis by Charles E. Gannon, Steve White

would shut his hanging jaw sometime within the next minute. “ The Admiral Sanders? Admiral Kevin Sanders? Who was involved in the Bug War? Ultimately ran Naval—and then Federation—Intelligence?” And God knows what else . The antediluvian spymaster was rumored to have his sprightly fingers in almost everything.
    “Yes, sir. That Admiral Sanders.”
    And then Krishmahnta looked at Wethermere’s blue eyes again and knew. “You’re a relative of his, aren’t you?”
    And the next thing that Wethermere did won Krishmahnta over so completely that it later annoyed her. Ossian Wethermere blushed bright red. “Uh, yes, ma’am—sir. He’s a relative. A distant relative.”
    “How distant?”
    Wethermere had to think. “I believe the correct term is a first cousin thrice removed.”
    Watanabe blinked. “Damn. I don’t even know what that means.”
    Wethermere folded his hands contemplatively. “Well, sir, as I understand it—”
    Krishmahnta stood. “That will do nicely, Lieutenant. And thank you for bringing the report. By the way, you’re not in PSUN uniform. Have you deserted the Union?” A ready and winning smile flashed in good-natured response to her jest. If he wasn’t so young, I just might—
    “No, sir. I just made it off Bellerophon in time—but my gear didn’t. When I reported for duty, they pulled this from spares.”
    “It suits you, Lieutenant. Dismissed.”
    Wethermere snapped a salute, smiled, was gone.
    Krishmahnta looked at Watanabe—who was already staring at her. “Look what I found in my soup,” he said, rolling his eyes after the departed lieutenant.
    She shook her head. “Just when you think a day can’t get any stranger.… Well, we’ve got business to get to—but ’Nab?”
    “Yes, sir?”
    “Get me a dossier on Mr. Wethermere. Put the request—coded—in the packet back to Miharu. If anyone’s got a file on him, it will be her.”
    “Yes, sir. What next?”
    “Send word to Pinnace Group 17. I need them to depart along with the courier he came in on.”
    “All five pinnaces, sir? Are they just confirming transit of the courier, or—”
    “I need confirmation of each step of our signal relay, Yoshi—and separate couriers to Suwa and Achilles to relay them copies of the signal I’m sending to Miharu.”
    “And what are the couriers transmitting, sir?”
    “That we are executing contingency Sierra-Charlie, Captain.”
    Watanabe released a long, low whistle. “Fast withdrawal from Beaumont? Any operational parameters?”
    Krishmahnta nodded to her chief of staff and nominal captain of the Gallipoli . “Yoshikuni is to hold eighteen hours from this mark, then an all-haste withdrawal. No taffrails to the enemy, but no dawdling, either. And ’Nab, I need those pinnace jockeys to fly like their lives depend on it—because theirs just might, and ours certainly will. I need proof of message receipt at each system, or our closely timed double withdrawal could turn into a train wreck, with Baldy battlewagons ready to take advantage. So I need to know exactly when my order gets through to each system. And if there is any failure along the commo chain to Admiral Yoshikuni in Beaumont, I am to be informed immediately. Make it clear to the pinnace crews—this is the most important mission of their careers, and our eyes are upon them.”
    “Yes, sir. Orders for our fleet, Admiral?”
    Krishmahnta shook her head. “No, nothing yet. But in the event of a general attack, COs do not have discretionary release to employ their external ordnance. They keep what’s in their racks until they receive a Fleet signal indicating otherwise. Is that clear?”
    “Crystal, sir.”
    “Lastly, send the word that, when it is determined that the enemy from Jason is committed and attacking us in force, we are likely to employ plan Zulu-X-Ray, and the ships designated for that action should be prepared to respond at once.”
    Yoshi Watanabe stared. “Which plan did you say?”
    Krishmahnta