"The government has a duty to preserve the Emperor's Peace during the trial," Taniell Kamarin continued, bending forward. Her pale eyes sparkled as her face emerged from the darkness. "The choice between Imperial military occupation, should the government fail in that duty, versus dealing with us, ought to provide a basis for negotiations."
"Yeah," Lenalt Depré chimed in, standing and leaning against the heavy oak table. Two clumps of red, wavy hair swung from his temples as he punctuated his words. "As our Beloved Overlord focuses on his legal defense, any response to our activity will come from Derrick-boy."
Steuben, a thirty-nine-year combat veteran, guessed that the lanky man with the piping voice was about twenty-seven standard-years, a mere five years older than the Possór heir.
"That is assuming," Depré added, "he won't be widing his wittle horsey in that deep, dark forest all by his wonesome self anymore."
Several people chuckled, but most only scoffed. Colonel Steuben did neither.
"What do you suggest we do, Depré?" one rebel cried. "Fight Possór troops with bigger rocks?" While fewer people laughed this time, the volume was louder than before.
Steuben understood the underlying criticism of the rebel leader. Although House Possór's planetary ascendancy had depended on ordinary citizens taking up arms for its cause, Legan's government later banned private ownership of advanced weaponry. Despite this obstacle, Depré had promised to procure new armaments. The promise was yet unfulfilled.
Though not unpleased by the laughter at Depré's expense, Steuben looked at the people who were not laughing. Dismissing those who took the need for weapons seriously, the Colonel focused on identifying Depré's supporters, wondering how much influence Kamarin's stork-like protégée had really gained in the months since Steuben had joined their group. If silence was a vote of confidence, the tally was not encouraging.
Kamarin's status as unit-leader meant that contact with the hidden rebel leadership came only through her, leaving him ignorant of the rebels' overall operations, and the identities of their key people. If Depré became their next commander, as she intended to happen after her coming "retirement," Steuben might always remain an outsider. While Taniell Kamarin distrusted the Colonel, her doubts were understandable. Lenalt Depré, on the other hand, despised him.
The insufferable bastard has nothing on me though, Steuben assured himself. He held no illusions of what Depré would do if he knew the truth about him, and about his killing of eight government agents who had supposedly come close to identifying members of another rebel unit.
To combat him, Steuben had centered his strategy on feeding Depré's inflated self-importance, and encouraging him to make commitments that he could not keep. Procuring armaments was but one example. He relied on Depré’s short-temper to do the rest.
"No," Lenalt Depré replied with a haughty lift of his chin. "Your rocks will not satisfy, no matter how large you claim them to be.” Even Steuben huffed a laugh at that remark. “I suggest we ready ourselves,” Depré went on, “for word is that the Assembly's planning something big." Holding up his hands, he gently fended off the clamor he had generated by mentioning the Assembly, the name assumed by the rebel leadership.
Kamarin, the source of Depré's information, sat back, watching.
To the Colonel, she seemed glad to let Depré do the talking.
She is still relatively young, the old soldier thought to himself, and certainly no coward. Why leave the rebels now? And why pick this academiated idiot as her successor?
"I can’t say what it is exactly," said Depré, grinning toothily as he winked at Kamarin. "But it'll be soon. In the meantime, we are encouraged to engage in smaller operations." Depré dropped his eyes to the table. "Though we are still on our own for money and guns."
The Colonel grunted softly, having read the revised estimates on the rebels' overall military and financial strength. Someone was holding out on them. Likely the Assembly.
"Obtaining useful positions in government service is also good," Depré added. "Anything that can provide us with intelligence data."
Kamarin turned to Depré with a faint straightening at the right side of her mouth.
"Don't we already have someone on the inside?" asked a man sitting next to Steuben. He was the one who had laughed the loudest at the taunt directed at Depré. A lesser rival to Depré, Steuben knew him as a man with an eye on his own future.
"What about it, Traitor? As a high-and-mighty Colonel, surely you have at least one brilliant idea on how we can get some weapons?"
Depré's hostility toward him was well known, but it surprised Steuben that the other rebel would challenge them both at the same meeting. Steuben was about to respond when he noticed the waiting stillness in the room, warning him that he would be alone in this exchange. The Colonel's suspicions increased as he considered whether the provocation was deliberate.
If I am being tested, Steuben thought, aware that the others were all carefully watching him, it sure took them long enough to put me to it. Without even looking around, the Colonel scratched the side of his face with purposeful nonchalance before answering.
"You know why I am here," he said smoothly, referring to his professed rejection of government corruption, and resuming before anyone could reply. "And know that while I command a fair amount of military resources, there are few under my authority I'd so trust as to reveal my...treason. This is a consequence of being a field agent, and why I try to recruit good people outside of government service when needed, as difficult as that is." There was no need to remind them of what happened the last time he used rebels as operatives. The mistake had been costly to them, if not to Steuben. "Everyone knew this when I was accepted into the unit," he added dismissively. "As for you," Steuben waved his hand at the man who had challenged him. "I know the kind of plans you want, as well as the part people such as Depré and I would play in them. However, I'll not lose the advantage of my position only to gain your satisfaction. I'm sure you understand that I don't see myself as fodder. I am expendable, but not cheaply."
"I'm not one to waste assets." The man leaned forward to put his face closer to Steuben's. "I just question whether you're worth saving. You may have killed those government agents, but I'm not sure you did it for us. The Count-Grandee’s killed his own men before. Why not you?"
Henrald Steuben sat steel-faced and silent. It was a reaction that took all his self-control.
"And even if we could trust you," the man continued, "you’re of limited value to us." The man had only time to peak the corners of his mouth before the Colonel twisted into action.
Sweeping his right leg out, Steuben knocked the other man's legs from under him as he grabbed him by the collar and snatched him from his chair. His strength augmented by his psychic training, Steuben moved fluidly, dashing the man's head against the side of the table, and pinning those rebels sitting on the other side of the table back against their chairs. The battered man, having been knocked unconscious, fell limply to the floor as Steuben released him.
"I hate poor manners," the Colonel said with pretended weariness, pushing the man away with his foot as someone bent down to check on him. "And petty displays of jealously." Steuben looked on confidently as someone checked to make sure that the man was still alive. The rebel would have been dead only if the Colonel had so wanted it. "If this clod ever does attain a position worthy of his ambition, he'll have to learn restraint."
Having taken the gamble of brazenly punishing the man for his insolence, Steuben radiated nothing but disgust and indignation. No one spoke as someone waved a portable medical scanner over the top of the man’s head. Other than being out cold, the man Steuben humbled was deemed to be in satisfactory condition.
"Poor manners?" cried an older woman, helping to lift the man back into his chair. "That was unnecessary, Colonel," Annika Lerle declared, pointing a veined finger at him. "And I think an explanation and an apology is in order."
"I agree," Steuben replied without
mockery, noting that no one else was offering any criticism. Either they were waiting to see how the situation play out, he concluded, or secretly delighted at witnessing their unpopular comrade finally silenced. "And after apologizing to me for his remarks, he can apologize to Depré, and to everyone else for his unseemly behavior."
"I mean by you, Colonel Steuben," Annika said coldly, her voice breaking on his name.
The Colonel turned to her with false surprise, followed by a show of anger. "Really? To what is it that you object? Everyone knows that this poor excuse for a slig was making a display to advance his standing at someone else's expense. Our success as a unit supersedes his selfish, petty aims." Aware that most of these rebels preferred statements cloaked in diplomatic niceties to the truth, he expected to hear a few gasps, and was not disappointed. "You witnessed what he did, and know his motivations," Steuben charged. "Are you really defending him?"
"No," Annika snapped irritably. He knew she disliked the man as well. "But you shouldn’t have been so...violent with him."
"So, you object to violence." Steuben was careful not to smile. "We just heard that the Assembly is making plans for a battle, my dear Lady, not a tea party. It's naive to think that you can be a revolutionary on this cold, cruel world of ours, and keep your hands unspotted."
The old woman’s eyes flared as they locked onto his. Although any bid by him to assert dominance over the group required it, Annika was not someone to cross lightly. Regarded as the group’s conscience, she reminded them why they fought: the hungry children, their unemployed mothers, their incarcerated fathers, their ailing grandparents, all unable to care for themselves, let alone anyone else. Worthy causes, he admitted, though their resort to force perverted what should have been their personal charity for some, into their self-righteous extortion of others.
"The time will come when we must be ready to shed enemy blood," Annika affirmed, her flaming eyes fixed on Steuben. "But that does not excuse fighting among ourselves as we wait."
"The time for readiness is here," Steuben corrected. "And you should remember that we are all engaged in treason. We cannot afford piddling rivalries. Just one person intent on the failure of another is enough to bring us all down…and leave the real enemy laughing."
The man Steuben felled began to regain his senses. "You jack-booted bastard," the injured man hissed, holding his aching head with both hands. "You'll pay for this."
Steuben lifted an eyebrow. You may have just slit your own throat, Friend. "Does anyone think that I was wrong to put our esteemed comrade in his place?" Steuben asked, standing solemnly from his chair. "To show him that small-minded disruptions and personality conflicts have no place in this unit?" While most people looked around with wary uncertainty, no one said a word. Only Kamarin kept her eyes unswervingly on Steuben.
His political support having deserted him, the man flushed as he fought to find his voice. "What? You’re all siding with this traitor? Against me?" The man's wounded bewilderment gave way to cold resentment. Still no one ventured to speak on his behalf. "To Hell with you all!" he choked, waving an arm in scornful dismissal. Drawing himself up from his chair with straight-backed arrogance, the man started to leave.
"BAR THAT DOOR," Steuben roared, invoking a voice that was steeled by years in a field command. The woman who stood on sentry duty obeyed the order without hesitation. Everyone else in the room froze.
Kids, Steuben thought as he pushed the scene forward. Now it was imperative that he gain access to rebel Assembly as soon as possible. He was wasting his time with this lot.
The Colonel turned his head imperiously toward Kamarin. The unit leader stared back at him, though her expression betrayed guarded confusion. Even Kamarin was thought to hate the man now almost cowering before the group, and it was easy to assume that she must have long dreamed of such a situation. In a moment when she should have seen opportunity and triumph, however, she seemed uncertain.
"You have a decision to make," Steuben said, seeing what he thought to be the dread of unseen threats in the lines of the rebel leader's face. The Colonel's own countenance remained grim as he glanced at the others, knowing that he did not have to say anything more. The rebels understood the choice which the foolish man’s own words had put before them. To let the man leave would risk betrayal. To detain him would only prolong the inevitable, for he could never be trusted, and would thus always pose a danger to them.
Taking him prisoner would be an easy way to avoid making a judgment, the Colonel thought, certain that the rebels had never faced such a dilemma before. It credited them to recognize that option as illusory. Steuben allowed his gaze to drift back to Kamarin, suddenly seeing an almost off-world beauty to her features. He dismissed that observation for later consideration. They're waiting for you, my dear. Waiting for you to give the word.
Kamarin shook her head as Steuben imagined her looking for a way out of this difficulty. Surely she could have little expectation that her one-time adversary would leave the room alive. Steuben could only guess at why she still hesitated.
"Out of my way," the man growled at the woman blocking the door, his chance born from Kamarin's apparent indecision.
The woman remained motionless, although her expression was without defiance. She was simply awaiting orders. The man looked at her up and down before whirling on Kamarin. It was clear the woman standing guard physically outmatched him.
"Tell her to let me go, Taniell," the man rumbled with deathly warning.
"We need to know your intentions," Kamarin said evenly, a touch of regret surfacing on her face. The man jutted out his lower teeth.
"You’d only claim not to believe me."
"Answer me anyway. Would you turn us in?"
The man muttered something unintelligible beneath his breath and stood silently. Observing him closely, Steuben rolled his eyes. The small, obstinate man was only now realizing that he was in grave danger.
"Let me go, Kamarin!" The man's voice broke as sweat beaded on his forehead.
"I can't do that. Too many lives are at stake. You can't be allowed to go free unless we know for sure."
The man snarled as he stormed toward Kamarin. Depré and another man moved in next to her to keep them separated. "You goddamn, conceited—you won't tolerate any opposition, will you? You want to be the undisputed leader, huh? Just wait, Bitch—"
"I don’t care what you think of me," Kamarin said, her eyes leveled on him in resigned resolution. "What matters is how you feel about them." She tilted her head toward the others.
The man seemed about to say something disparaging when he caught himself. "You can't keep me locked up forever." The man smiled, even as sweat stung his eyes. "Just wait."
Kamarin flashed a small lasgun in her hand and pointed it at the man's heart.
Steuben guessed that she had hidden the gun in her sleeve, and made a mental note to watch her for concealed weapons in the future.
"Go ahead!" the man sneered. His breathing became rapid as his muscles tensed under his damp clothing. "You haven't got the nerve."
With a stiff motion of her head, Kamarin signaled those behind the man to move. Her gun stayed completely still.
"I'll see you dead—!"
Kamarin fired as the other man reached inside his coat. It was no contest, though by his expression, Steuben thought that the fool had somehow expected to survive the confrontation. His heart pierced and burned through, the man held his stance for but a moment before crumbling to the floor. His own concealed firearm was still in his hand.
It's good to see a dumb, hotheaded bastard get what he deserves, Steuben thought, congratulating himself on his performance. Noting Kamarin's ashen appearance, he smiled. As for you, my dear, by shooting this worthless dung-maggot, you've planted dark seeds among your own people. Now my victory over you is even closer. As if hearing him, Kamarin's eyes locked onto his. If her previous ill will was gone, it was difficult for him to define what had replaced it.
Steuben broke
eye contact to study the room. Perhaps I can make them useful despite themselves, he thought, now inclined to let this overeducated little band acquire the weapons they desired. Maybe even make them dangerous. But I need my own link to their Assembly. Then these pathetic hoodlums will know how unbounded true games of power really are.
His eyes no longer upon her, Taniell Kamarin watched Steuben's satisfaction spread across his face. Inwardly, she felt a tinge of her own satisfaction at being rid of a man she loathed. And the sensation frightened her.
---
They have him, Josephine Possór thought, finishing a report on the criminal indictment against her brother-in-law, projected in the air before her from a thin hand-held viewer.
Recalling First Advisor Henely's opinion on the information he had sent her on Seffan's illegal involvement with the Consortium, she could not help but smile. He had promised her there would be a trial. The bald, portly advisor however had yet to show her any progress on the rebels supporting her husband, Burin Possór, for the throne.
Not that she had asked the pompous First Advisor for any help, thought Josephine as she looked around the room, one of many set aside for Burin and his family at Pablen Palace. Once more from her place on a heavily gilded couch, she vainly searched for any spying devices which her scanner had failed to detect, further fueling her resentment at having to obey Seffan’s call.
No, Henely doesn’t care about us, she continued silently, also knowing that the ill-mannered First Advisor saw her humble origins as a mark against her. He has his own game.
If Burin continued to benefit however, she could tolerate his condescension and thinly veiled disrespect. Advisor Allenford Biam put up with Henely's rudeness when needed, even to the point of playing the stooge. He must have his reasons, just as she had hers.
If only Allenford were helping us, she sighed. Advisor Biam was an old military friend of her father's, and Josephine saw him as one of their best allies in Seffan's government. She also trusted the advisor, partly because of his admitted hatred of Seffan. But Biam only supplied her with gossip, none of it coming close to the highly sensitive information that Henely secretly provided her. Surely he doesn’t support Derrick for the throne, she told herself, still wondering why Biam did not do more for them. An unstable boy like that might lead us all to ruin.
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