She pointed to the private bookings.
“There’s a ninety percent falloff from these eight planets. It accounts for almost the entire occupancy downturn during the next window. I’ve seen anomalous travel trends before, but this simply cannot be right. What aren’t you telling me?”
Trevor wasn’t shocked. He focused on the other data, which was twice as expansive.
“Commercial bookings are down more than sixty percent. But those would be a mix of civilians and the political class. The numbers track.”
“Track toward what?”
He hated this part.
“Liv, I need to ask a favor. Do not share this information with anyone. Especially other portmasters.”
“I need a reason. This falloff has financial implications. Our port fees, the worm drive tariffs. I can go on.”
Yeah, she could. Trevor remembered the old days. She loved to squeeze people’s ears.
“This may be a political stunt,” he said. “Hopefully, I can head it off. In the meantime, I need your silence.”
Liv rolled her eyes.
“Politics? This?”
“Just for a few days. I promise.”
She squashed the new holo and leaned back in her chair.
“My port might lose seasonal credits because politicians are playing games. Sure, Trevor. I won’t shout the news across a deepstream, if it makes you feel better.”
“It will. If you need anything, my door is open.”
Trevor extended his hand, which she reluctantly accepted.
“Again you disrupt my life, and then you’re gone,” she quipped. “The men in my life are all the same.”
He kissed her on the cheek for old time’s sake.
“I’m sorry to run. Maybe lunch someday? Have you ever eaten in Central’s Executive Dining Room? It’s very good.”
“Not since I worked Accounting. I hear you’re with someone now, so I won’t consider it a date.”
“No. Not a date.” He piggybacked on her earlier quip. “Sorry men are such a disappointment these days. We can be a difficult lot.”
She followed him out of the office.
“At least you’re not abandoning me like Remy. The good Captain and I developed a nice rapport. Then he leaves me adrift in a fog of unrequited affection.”
“You referring to Capt. Graygone?”
“I am. It was so abrupt, the reassignment. I’d gotten used to him running the Guardian fleet. Talked every day. Alas.”
Trevor did not have time to dawdle, yet he couldn’t resist, given the circumstances.
“It’ll be strange. There was comfort in knowing a small fleet protected us. Now, it’s to be one ship and two hundred thousand drones. Did they provide you the new dimensions for the Commercial Transit Vector?”
The narrower points of entry needed to be passed along to all ports to eliminate potential disasters on final approach.
Liv nodded.
“Yesterday. We set the reconfiguration and notified the entire registry. Afterward, Remy and I reflected on the good times. He has a dry sense of humor. I’ll miss him.”
“We never made much of a connection, but he’s a good officer. Did the station a huge favor last year with the Mau Ping business. I had hoped to invite him over before the fleet leaves.”
Liv winced at the notion.
“Best hurry. They’re pulling out by H18.”
Trevor tried to contain his bewilderment.
“Really? I thought the defense web needed another two days before activation.”
“According to my dear Captain, they’ll be arming the web later today, and he’ll turn over command when his replacement arrives.”
“Sounds like someone is in a hurry to leave. OK. Until next time, Liv. Thanks for everything.”
As Trevor returned to Central, he recalled the specific timeline Adm. Nagano laid out during the security confab. They were at least two days ahead of schedule. How could that be with a security change so delicate and impactful?
More to the point: Why hadn’t Trevor been notified?
