head. “I’ll order it at once.”
“It isn’t often I say this, but I think Damon’s revolutionary tendencies could be helpful to us.”
Jayla watched her mother’s brows rise. “How so?”
“He has, by virtue of his political views, some interesting contacts.”
There was a twinge of alarm deep in the pit of Jayla’s stomach. “Are you saying some of Damon’s friends could be involved in the bombings?”
“No.” Raphael looked at her and a glimmer of a smile touched his mouth. “While my son can be irritatingly nonconformist, he doesn’t associate with extremists. But, they do approach him frequently enough. He’s told me so. Tell me, Princess, has he mentioned anyone he specifically suspects could be behind the conspiracy?”
At least Jayla could honestly shake her head. “No.”
“You should encourage him to start thinking about maybe not who he knows, but who he knows who might know someone else that has the right connections to gather information.”
It made sense, but Raphael Le Clerc usually did make sense, hence his position as her mother’s advisor for so many years.
“I’m sure Damon has already considered it.”
His father looked at her gravely. “Maybe, but he has the disadvantage of idealistic perceptions about how civilized beings should act, but isn’t quite as canny over how they actually act. That is why he cannot see eye to eye with political agendas. My son finds them useless if he considers them not a straightforward route to a goal, but the truth is, a circle will still get you to the same destination as a straight line. It just takes a bit longer and you don’t have to plow over everything in your path.”
Jayla had to laugh, for Damon was definitely guilty as charged for a lack of subtlety. “I’ve reminded him of that a time or two myself.”
“And your opinion means everything to him.” Le Clerc hesitated and then said quietly, “I am very glad my son is included in your life.”
* * * *
Marc stared at the screen. His father’s face was grave, the image so clear that Marc almost imagined he could reach out and touch him. Colonel Ian Helm stood in the background, his face also grim and forbidding.
“What we have is intelligence that tells us the group doing this is headed by a radical that calls himself ‘The Prophet’.”
Damon, sitting next to him, muttered, “That’s original.”
“What we need,” Helm said, tall and broad, the insignia on his tunic prominent as he was one of the most influential commanders working for the Federation, “is information from the other side. So far, other than his self-imposed nickname, we aren’t gathering any data on who he might be. I think the group is small, but obviously, effective enough to concern us. They were able to set bombs on five different planets, all of them major powers with high security.”
A valid point. Marc had wondered all along how that was possible. “Do you have any insight as to how the systems were breached?”
“Here on Minoa,” his father responded, looking troubled, “we have a missing security expert with top clearance.”
“I’ll relay that information to the queen. What else do you know?”
“We have investigations begun, naturally. We are hoping Le Clerc can help us.”
To his credit, Damon didn’t bristle. He merely said, “If you mean through a few questionable contacts I know, be assured had I ever caught wind of a threat to the lives of any citizens of Anasta or any other colony, I would have reported it at once.”
“As you are now a member of the Ruling Council, they apparently do trust you,” Marc heard his father say dryly. “And since my son seems to agree, I will also. But I concur with your father. You have contacts we don’t. Is there anything you can do? I am confident we will find the responsible party, but I don’t want more casualties before it happens.”
“I have people I can ask.” Damon’s voice was carefully modulated. “But please
“It isn’t often I say this, but I think Damon’s revolutionary tendencies could be helpful to us.”
Jayla watched her mother’s brows rise. “How so?”
“He has, by virtue of his political views, some interesting contacts.”
There was a twinge of alarm deep in the pit of Jayla’s stomach. “Are you saying some of Damon’s friends could be involved in the bombings?”
“No.” Raphael looked at her and a glimmer of a smile touched his mouth. “While my son can be irritatingly nonconformist, he doesn’t associate with extremists. But, they do approach him frequently enough. He’s told me so. Tell me, Princess, has he mentioned anyone he specifically suspects could be behind the conspiracy?”
At least Jayla could honestly shake her head. “No.”
“You should encourage him to start thinking about maybe not who he knows, but who he knows who might know someone else that has the right connections to gather information.”
It made sense, but Raphael Le Clerc usually did make sense, hence his position as her mother’s advisor for so many years.
“I’m sure Damon has already considered it.”
His father looked at her gravely. “Maybe, but he has the disadvantage of idealistic perceptions about how civilized beings should act, but isn’t quite as canny over how they actually act. That is why he cannot see eye to eye with political agendas. My son finds them useless if he considers them not a straightforward route to a goal, but the truth is, a circle will still get you to the same destination as a straight line. It just takes a bit longer and you don’t have to plow over everything in your path.”
Jayla had to laugh, for Damon was definitely guilty as charged for a lack of subtlety. “I’ve reminded him of that a time or two myself.”
“And your opinion means everything to him.” Le Clerc hesitated and then said quietly, “I am very glad my son is included in your life.”
* * * *
Marc stared at the screen. His father’s face was grave, the image so clear that Marc almost imagined he could reach out and touch him. Colonel Ian Helm stood in the background, his face also grim and forbidding.
“What we have is intelligence that tells us the group doing this is headed by a radical that calls himself ‘The Prophet’.”
Damon, sitting next to him, muttered, “That’s original.”
“What we need,” Helm said, tall and broad, the insignia on his tunic prominent as he was one of the most influential commanders working for the Federation, “is information from the other side. So far, other than his self-imposed nickname, we aren’t gathering any data on who he might be. I think the group is small, but obviously, effective enough to concern us. They were able to set bombs on five different planets, all of them major powers with high security.”
A valid point. Marc had wondered all along how that was possible. “Do you have any insight as to how the systems were breached?”
“Here on Minoa,” his father responded, looking troubled, “we have a missing security expert with top clearance.”
“I’ll relay that information to the queen. What else do you know?”
“We have investigations begun, naturally. We are hoping Le Clerc can help us.”
To his credit, Damon didn’t bristle. He merely said, “If you mean through a few questionable contacts I know, be assured had I ever caught wind of a threat to the lives of any citizens of Anasta or any other colony, I would have reported it at once.”
“As you are now a member of the Ruling Council, they apparently do trust you,” Marc heard his father say dryly. “And since my son seems to agree, I will also. But I concur with your father. You have contacts we don’t. Is there anything you can do? I am confident we will find the responsible party, but I don’t want more casualties before it happens.”
“I have people I can ask.” Damon’s voice was carefully modulated. “But please
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