Bound by Honor

by Terry Mixon

  “Do you know who I am?” Harmon demanded. “I am the Director of the Commonwealth Investigative Agency! I have not merely the right but the responsibility to interrupt a closed session if matters are important enough.”

  The constable looked unconvinced, turning back to his fellows and pulling up a document on his wrist-comp.

  “Members of this Senate have urged a tighter hold on the purse strings of the Fleet,” Mills’s voice echoed in Brad’s ear. “I refuse to contemplate ill of our wise compatriots, but we have weakened our only defense beyond all reason! We have only recently begun to undo the damage done by our peaceful intentions, and the worlds and colonies of the Outer System have taken advantage of our lack of will!”

  The lictors were arguing now, and Brad could see Harmon starting to get itchy. If the Director ordered it, Brad and Falcone would disable the guards. He’d apologize later…but he understood the weight of the moment, too.

  “We see the Cadre, but we also see this Independence Militia, and we must understand the truth: our Commonwealth is at war!” Mills was clearly building to his point already.

  “We have blindly allowed a monster to grow at our border, to stand in the shadows and hold a club over our head, and I say to you: no more!”

  The constable stepped back to them. He looked rebellious but resigned.

  “You are correct, Director,” he admitted. “That authority has never been invoked before. Given the circumstances of the President’s speech…”

  “It is utterly necessary that I speak to the Senate now,” Harmon snapped. “The President’s speech is part of that reason—and there is nothing in that document that says I have to wait for anyone!”

  Brad shifted his weight, preparing to move.

  “Fine,” the lictor constable spat, standing aside. “On your head be it.”

  “That is exactly where the responsibility lies, son,” Harmon told the officer. “You have done your duty. Everything after this is on me.”

  He turned back to Brad and the others.

  “Come on.”

  Now Brad didn’t even need the earpiece. The old United Nations building had incredible acoustics and he could hear Mills continuing his speech as the six of them approached the main Assembly Hall.

  “In these dark times, as shadows loom over us and the future is in doubt, the Commonwealth—humanity itself—looks to us for leadership. We speak for Earth, for Mars, for Venus and Jupiter and every other colony out there.”

  The last barrier was the Senate Bailiff, who clearly hadn’t been expecting anyone to arrive. The older woman scrambled to her feet as Brad and his companions approached, but she clearly recognized Harmon.

  Brad supposed the Director was rather recognizable.

  “It is our sacred duty to face the barbarians at the gate with a sword in our hands and a battle cry on our lips. It is our place to stand between the weak and the innocent and those who do them harm.”

  Harmon inclined his head to the Bailiff.

  “I am here to invoke the right of my office to speak before the Senate,” he told her. “Now. Before Mills is done speaking.”

  Either the woman owed Harmon something or she really didn’t like Mills, because she nodded immediately and grabbed her staff of office with its built-in microphone.

  “Follow me,” she instructed.

  “In this house, in this place, we must no longer be divided,” Mills proclaimed. “In the face of the enemy, we must not yield.”

  The Bailiff’s staff slammed into the floor with a sudden crash of thunder, the sound of the impact relayed through the entire building by the sound system.

  The President stumbled to a halt, staring up the semicircular chamber and its rows of seats to the entrance. The staff slammed into the floor again, and the woman leaned on it.

  “Esteemed President Mills, Senators of the Commonwealth of the United Nations of Earth, it is my duty to announce the presence of Director Antonio Harmon of the Commonwealth Investigative Agency.

  “As is the right and duty of his position, he has requested and required the right to speak immediately. Under the rules and traditions that govern this chamber, I have no authority to refuse him.”

  She slammed the staff down again.

  “Director Harmon.”

  Harmon led the way, with Brad, Falcone and Andrews immediately behind him.

  Mills was frozen, his gaze fixed on Jessica Andrews as the party advanced down the stairs to the very heart of the Commonwealth.

  “I apologize for interrupting, honored Senators,” Harmon said loudly, projecting his voice to fill the chamber without any artificial aids. “But it is my duty to bring before you evidence of the greatest treason I have ever discovered.

  “I must agree with President Mills. In these hours, in the face of the enemy, we must not yield. Where I must disagree with him, however, is where our enemy is.”

  Brad followed Harmon onto the stage, carefully looming over the short and stockily built form of President David Mills. Intimidating the theoretical ruler of the entire star system was surprisingly easy.

  “Our enemy is not in the Outer System,” Harmon told the Senate. “The Cadre’s beating heart, the source of its motivation and its armies, is not hiding in the darkness outside our borders.

  “Everything the Cadre has done has been directed from a single source. A single man, determined to use the Cadre to destroy all that we are sworn to defend.

  “The true enemy of the Commonwealth does not lurk outside your borders. The true enemy of the Commonwealth is right here.” Harmon pointed at Mills. “Your enemy, Senators, is the man who would use your fear to make himself king.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  “This is madness!” Mills declared. “What kind of ludicrous accusation is this?”

  Harmon grinned and calmly took the microphone away from the President. Despite his words, Mills was clearly still in shock, as he didn’t even resist. The Agency Director passed the microphone to Jessica Andrews, who took it with a nod and faced the Senate.

  “Esteemed Senators of the Commonwealth,” she greeted them. “Many of you know me and are wondering how I come to stand in front of you today.

  “For the rest of you, I am Jessica Natalia Andrews. Once, I sat among you as a member of this august body. Until eleven years ago, when, in the service of the man who now stands accused, we faked my death to allow me to serve as a conduit for resources and authority.”

  She smiled.

  “But the story begins earlier. It begins over twenty years ago, in the aftermath of the destruction of the Black Skull. The Cadre’s field commander, the man we know as the Terror, had escaped—but their leadership was shattered. The true patriarch and matriarch of the Cadre died with Black Skull.

  “Our system breathed a sigh of relief that a long nightmare was over. But three men in our most august bodies and houses of power saw the opportunity present in everyone’s fear. I and others were recruited to their cause, but the man at the heart of the scheme was Tyler Smith Reynolds.”

  That name brought the entire room to silence.

  “Reynolds saw in the fear and terror of the Commonwealth the opportunity to change the world. Money and power are great levers, and he had vast quantities of both to wave in front of those he sought to recruit.”

  Andrews shook her head.

  “Two other men were key to Reynolds’s plan, one who stood at his right hand and one who was officially his opponent. Between them, they passed the Commonwealth Emergency Powers Act—passed in peace, when no one considered just what a sword they had handed their president.”

  Even Brad was hanging on her words now. He had guessed much of this story, but to hear it laid out quite so starkly was still horrifying.

  “Those other two men? Sequoia Smith, then Chief of Operations for the Commonwealth Fleet—and the then leader of the opposition: Senator David Mills.”

  Falcone stepped between the President and the stage exit with a cold smile. Bra
d saw her movement and stepped over to block the other way out. No one wanted Mills to walk away just yet.

  “For eight years, we built the fundamental structures of Reynolds’s plan inside the Commonwealth. We funneled the Terror money and resources sufficient for him to secure control of the Cadre, to stabilize it and keep it present, a continuous threat in the back of everyone’s minds.

  “It became necessary to exert more direct control, so we faked my death and I took over the Red Diamond division of the Secret Service. Using the resources of the Secret Service’s logistics division, we infiltrated and took control of Transplanetary Macro Fabrication, allowing us to channel more ships and more money to the Cadre.

  “It was the Secret Service that funded the research at Blackhawk Station that the Cadre stole. It was the Secret Service that set up secret labs and manufactories for weapons of mass destruction across the star system.

  “We needed an atrocity, an attack of such magnitude that no one could ignore it…and then the Terror got himself killed before we could execute our plan. Reynolds was too old, too stubborn…so we killed him.

  “Age had already handled Smith for us, and all of this left one man at the heart of everything,” Andrews told them all. “We needed a new figurehead in the Cadre, and the Phoenix seemed the perfect candidate. The designated heir of the first leaders, the Terror’s apprentice and hatchet man. But still a minor player in the major scheme of things.

  “We needed to feed him heavier ships to help him consolidate power. And again, the Mercenary Guild got in the way.” She gestured at Brad. “Madrid got in the way. He found out much of this and sent a Commonwealth Agent to speak to this body.

  “We arrested her…but didn’t plan for Commodore Madrid to track her down.”

  Andrews wasn’t quite glaring at Brad.

  “Madrid found her. Found my base, my communications, my records. Everything needed to bring down the conspiracy…and so the man I’ve spent twenty years serving, the man who promised to raise me up to his right hand when this was all done, pushed the button to nuke me, my records, and my prisoners.”

  She turned her glare on Mills.

  “Tell me, Dave, did you even hesitate? Blink? Feel a moment’s remorse for killing the people who had done so much to make you the ruler of humanity?”

  “She’s mad!” he replied. “You can’t seriously believe this…this…tale.”

  “As Director of the Agency, I have no true authority in this chamber,” Harmon told the Senate. “But I call on you¸ the men and women charged to guide our Commonwealth. I call on you not to hand this man a declaration of war.

  “I call on you to impeach this man and hand him over to our justice system to face trial for his crimes. We cannot be divided and lost to fear while this conspiracy and its tentacles threaten our society, our nation.

  “I cannot make a motion here. I can only beg you to.”

  Somehow, Brad wasn’t surprised when Senator Barnes stood. The Senator for Jupiter was near the back of the chamber, showing the amount of importance the Commonwealth gave the Jovian Cluster…but he was still a Senator.

  “When the Cadre came for my daughter, it was at your order, wasn’t it?” he demanded.

  Andrews faced him levelly and nodded.

  “We needed your vote on key challenges,” she told him. “Mills himself suggested holding your daughter hostage.”

  “It seemed his style,” Barnes allowed. “I suppose you were promised immunity, Andrews?”

  She raised her chin.

  “That was the deal for my testimony, yes,” she confirmed.

  “So be it.” Barnes looked around him and then slammed his hand down on the button on his desk that declared him to be making a motion.

  “Senators of the Commonwealth, I have heard Director Harmon’s evidence. I know his witnesses. While I wish to review the documentary evidence before we proceed with a full impeachment, I move that this body temporarily suspend David Mills’s authority and immunity—and order the Commonwealth Investigate Agency to take him into custody pending that full impeachment proceeding.”

  The Bailiff slammed her staff down again.

  “We have a motion on the floor,” she announced. “Do we have a sec—”

  The Senator for New Venice was already rising.

  “There was a nuclear weapon detonated on my planet,” the Venusian Senator reminded everyone. “If there is even the slightest chance that anyone, even our President, was involved, it must be investigated.

  “I second the esteemed Senator for Jupiter’s motion. We must detain President Mills to make certain he does not flee while we review the Agency’s evidence.”

  “We have a second,” the Bailiff declared. “Please record your votes.”

  Brad couldn’t see the tally going up behind his head. He could see the light from the icons behind him reflecting off the gleamingly cleaned floor, however…and it was overwhelmingly green.

  “The motion is passed,” the Bailiff declared. “Director Harmon, please take Preside—”

  The last thing that had crossed Brad’s mind, given how shocked Mills had been, was that the man would be armed.

  It wasn’t a big gun, but the small pistol was enough to drown out the Bailiff’s voice as Mills shot her. The man had been well trained, better than Brad would have expected, and put three rounds through the woman’s center of mass in under a second. Before anyone could even begin to react to that, Mills turned and shot Andrews, the same neat three-round burst to the torso, then ran for the exit.

  Even as the two women started to fall, Brad was moving. So was Kate Falcone, and she was closer. Neither of the two Agents was armed, nor had they been expecting Mills to produce a gun.

  Falcone collapsed as Mills fired into her at point-blank range, falling against the President who shoved her aside. Brad’s friend fell to the floor as he rushed toward her—and Mills was already on the floor, running up the stairs of the Chamber as pure shock froze everyone around him.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Harmon was already kneeling by Kate’s side when Brad reached her, the Director producing a medical kit seemingly from nowhere. The two bodyguards were checking on the Bailiff and Andrews, and Harmon waved Brad away.

  “She was wearing body armor; she’ll live,” the Director told Brad. “Catch that son of a bitch.”

  Brad gave Harmon a firm nod and took off after Mills.

  He quickly realized that Mills was exiting the building as rapidly as possible—and while Brad was probably in overall better shape than the President, Mills was used to Earth’s gravity. Brad wasn’t.

  By the time he was halfway to the courtyard, he was cursing both Earth’s gravity and the security troops around the UN building.

  Part of that was his fault, he knew. They’d sent in his mercenaries and most of Harmon’s bodyguards to detain any of the lictors they suspected might be Mills’s men, which meant that only about half of the security that was supposed to be there was actually present.

  The rest, well. The order to detain the President of the Commonwealth might have been given, but that didn’t mean everyone knew about it. He couldn’t blame the men and women who’d let the President through when he’d barked orders.

  Until two minutes before, after all, Mills had been their ultimate boss.

  Earth’s gravity tore on his muscles, but he kept going.

  The guards at the front door, it seemed, had got the message in time to try and stop Mills—but not in time to realize he was going to be a threat. Two men were down, one definitely dead and the other grimly trying to patch up his own wounds.

  The wounded man saw Brad coming and hit an override to open the doors.

  “Sir, catch!” he shouted. Wounded or not, the lictor had one hell of an arm, and the submachine gun he threw almost hit Brad before the mercenary caught the weapon.

  “Thank you,” he replied, and charged out of the building. Weight told him there was a full magazine in the gun, but he only had
one man to take down—and he really did want to take Mills alive.

  Bursting out into the twilight, he was glad to see that Mills hadn’t made it very far. The President was still in the middle of the main courtyard, pausing amidst the flags to check behind him while using the fountain as cover.

  “Stop!” Brad shouted after the man, starting to charge across the pavement. Hopefully, Mills was out of bullets. The handgun he’d concealed couldn’t have that many rounds in its magazine, after all.

  The stockier man saw him, swore, and started running again. That gave Brad a perfect view of the President’s head and back…as a pair of heavy sniper slugs blasted through Mills’s upper chest.

  The sniper had hit the traditional “sniper’s triangle” perfectly, and whatever armor Mills had been wearing hadn’t been enough to stop the bullets. His throat and chest disintegrated into a spray of blood and organs, and the man who’d tried to make himself king sprawled backward toward Brad.

  Brad himself dove for cover behind the fountain, trying to locate the sniper in what he knew was a futile gesture. Even if he could find the sniper, he couldn’t hit them with the light SMG he was carrying.

  A third shot cracked; and a bullet slammed into the ground four feet from Brad. He had enough time to tuck himself further into the fountain before he discovered that it had never been intended to hit him.

  A holographic image of Jack Mader appeared above the crater. The bullet was some kind of communicator.

  Mader was looking away from Brad and tapped a command of some kind to align his gaze with where Brad was hiding.

  “Commodore Madrid,” he said brightly. “It’s probably obvious that I’m watching you through a camera. Don’t worry, though, my sniper is getting the hell out of Dodge. You weren’t her target, and she doesn’t want to get in any more trouble than she has to.

  “I knew when I sent you after the Red Diamond that you were going to wreck Mills’s day, though I don’t think even I could have anticipated just how deliciously epic a stunt you would pull. Congratulations, Commodore, you’ve destroyed the President of the Commonwealth. You probably even have enough data to unravel his entire organization.”