He should have guessed that Adele would be monitoring not only ordinary communications traffic but also intercepting limited-distribution messages that she and her software thought might be of interest to the Princess Cecile. A truck, though? Why on earth would the courier have a truck with him?
“Adele,” Daniel said, “we’re only about three minutes from the gate here. Why don’t you come join me for the courier’s arrival? You can monitor the console through your helmet, you know. Over.”
Adele sniffed. “Can I really?” she said, not angrily but with enough of an edge to remind Daniel who he’d been talking to. “Perhaps I’ll print out the instruction manual for my equipment to read while I’m waiting with you. Signals out.”
Smiling faintly but tense all the same, Daniel said, “He’s on his way from the gate,” loudly enough to be heard by those with him in the entrance. He lifted his equipment belt with his thumbs to settle it more comfortably over his hipbones.
The rain had slackened again, though that was hard to tell because of the water still dripping from the antennas through the flare of the area light above the Princess Cecile’s hatch. Headlights swept down the curving roadway toward Bay Ten in Vs of spray. The lead vehicle, illuminated by the following one, was one of the enclosed two-place scooters used by the Navy Office message service.
Adele came down the companionway from C Level and the bridge. Unconsciously her hand brushed the right cargo pocket where her personal data unit rode. She had no need for special tailoring when wearing a utility uniform.
The vehicles pulled up at the shelter for visitors to Bay Ten. A figure in a close-drawn rain cape got out of the scooter and started down the walkway toward the corvette’s hatch, hunched over against the weather. The rain was coming down harder again. It wasn’t the downpour of minutes earlier, but it still blew under the canopy.
“There’s a driver in the car,” Hogg noticed aloud. “Since when do couriers get drivers?”
Adele frowned, then flipped down the jump seat intended for a sentry at the airlock and took her data unit out. Daniel glanced at her, wondering what in the world she was doing.
The wands flickered. Without looking up Adele said, “I’m finding what department the truck is assigned to. Its vehicle number went into the records when it passed the gate.”
Daniel opened his mouth to say, “Well, we’ll know in a moment. . . .” But it wasn’t certain that they would learn in a moment; and anyway, that probably didn’t make any difference to Adele. She had more faith in data that she uncovered herself than she did in what somebody from the Navy Office told her; and thinking about it, Daniel too had more faith in what Adele learned in her own fashion. He swallowed his comment unspoken.
The courier reached the hatch and stepped into the entryway, out of the weather. The trousers of his 2nd Class uniform were darkened several shades from the original dove gray where the rain had soaked them.
“Orders for the officer commanding RCS Princess Cecile,” the man said, his voice rough. He coughed to clear his throat.
Daniel stepped forward. “I’m Lieutenant Leary, commanding RCS Princess Cecile,” he said.
The stiffened bill of the courier’s cowl shadowed his face. He brought from beneath his cape a packet closed with the Republic’s seal, a winged sandal, over an embossed RCN.
Daniel broke the seal with his index finger, watching the holographic wings flap three times. If the envelope had been opened before it reached him, the charge would have dissipated whether or not the seal itself were damaged. There was no reason to suspect forgery, but the Matrix makes people—those who survive—careful about details.
He drew out the document and read:
Navy Office, 16 xi 45
Lt. D. O. Leary,
Comdg. RCS Princess Cecile, Harbor Three.
Lieutenant: So soon as the Republic of Cinnabar corvette which you have been appointed to command shall be in all respects ready for space, you will proceed to the Strymon system, touching at such ports as you may think proper.
If possible you will meet at Sexburga the squadron under Commodore Pettin, already en route to Strymon, and place yourself under his command for the remainder of the cruise. If you do not join Commodore Pettin en route, you will report to him in the Strymon system.