The Ashes Of Worlds

by The Ashes of Worlds (v5. 0) [lit]

  When Cain approached the two uniformed men at a reception desk, they came immediately to attention. “I am here with orders to escort the two new prisoners, Patrick Fitzpatrick and Zhett Kellum, to an undisclosed location. The Chairman wants me to attend to this matter personally and without delay.”

  Trying to look official, the guards consulted their display screens. One of the men deferred to his larger companion, who nodded. “Right this way, sir.”

  Patrick and Zhett were in adjacent cells. As Cain arrived, both of them jumped to their feet. Gazing dispassionately at them through the transparent barriers, he snapped to the accompanying guard, “What are you waiting for? Open it.”

  “Shouldn’t I bring in an armed escort, sir? These are dangerous criminals.”

  “These two are my problem. I have already arranged for everything I need. Release them into my custody.”

  Fitzpatrick looked defiantly at the deputy. “I was wondering if you’d come. Can’t the Chairman do his own dirty work? Are you going to execute us out in the main square? Or are you going to take us to a dark room, put a bullet in our brains, then quietly dispose of the bodies?”

  “Neither. Now, if you will come with me?”

  When the two emerged from their separate cells, they hugged each other and stood close together. “Where are we going?” Zhett asked.

  For the guard’s benefit, Cain said, “An agreement has been reached behind closed doors. Some people in the government still feel they owe something to your grandmother.” That seemed to pacify Patrick. “I will explain it all as we go. Now, follow me, please.”

  Patrick and Zhett glanced at each other, back at the empty cells, then hurried along. The disconcerted guard remained behind to seal the doors.

  As soon as they were out of earshot, Cain whispered, “I’m releasing you. The Chairman is away, and we don’t have much time.” He explained what was happening; he asked the two of them to focus the demonstrations, build the uproar, and pave the way for King Peter’s return. He led them to a side door that exited to an alley. “Duck into the crowds and make yourselves invisible.” When the two hesitated, he planted his hand between Patrick’s shoulderblades and gave him a shove. “Go!”

  They ran.

  Once they were gone, Cain felt a heavy weight lifted from him, which was quickly replaced by a gnawing worry in his stomach. Now it was out of his hands. The rest was up to them, and to Sarein.

  With forced casualness, he sauntered toward the reception desk on his way out the main door, only to find a livid Colonel Andez arguing with the cowed-looking guards. Cain hesitated for just a moment, then walked forward. He hadn’t expected to be discovered quite so soon.

  The uniformed men were greatly relieved to see him. When Andez turned, her face showed angry displeasure. “What do you think you’re doing, Deputy Cain?”

  He regarded the woman with an unsettling glare. “And who are you to make demands of the Hansa’s deputy chairman?”

  She squirmed for just a moment, then lashed out. “These men told me that you’ve removed Fitzpatrick and his Roamer whore from their cells. I want to see your authorization. Show me your orders from the Chairman.”

  “My orders are not for you to approve.”

  “But those two committed treason. Everyone heard it. Their guilt is without question.”

  “No one can fault you for your zeal, Ms. Andez — ”

  “Colonel Andez!”

  “However, you forget your place. I am hereby putting you on notice.”

  “Putting me on notice?” She stiffened, then faltered. “I am only protecting the Hansa.”

  “You would do well to remember that other people bear that responsibility as well.” Cain left, while Andez continued to glower at him. He had no doubt that she would report the matter to Chairman Wenceslas as soon as he returned.

  By then, though, it would be too late.

  128

  King Peter

  As usual, Basil acted as if he owned the Spiral Arm. Peter watched the Chairman’s shuttle approach the Jupiter without a military escort, without bluster or threats. Ever since leaving the tense banquet in the Whisper Palace, he had been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Here it comes.

  En route to the flagship, Basil had altered the plans, not surprisingly, to demonstrate that he was in control of the details. Instead of a showy banquet with media imagers, protocol escorts, and a large audience, he wanted a private audience with Peter. And he had declined to bring Rory with him.

  No matter. Basil wasn’t going to like what Peter showed him, no matter how it was served up.

  Admiral Willis shook her head. “Arriving in a little shuttle like that? He must be damned sure you won’t shoot at him, sire.”

  “And we won’t. He knows that.”

  Estarra had joined the King to watch the diplomatic craft make its way from General Brindle’s Juggernaut over to theirs. The Chairman intended to dock aboard the Jupiter in half an hour — significantly earlier than their agreed-upon time — and expected to be received without delay.

  “Basil can rattle his saber all he wants, but it’s just empty noise. He doesn’t know that his bargaining chip has no value.” Peter took Estarra’s arm in his. “Admiral, we won’t be needing our scheduled banquet after all. Can you provide a secure conference room? Nothing fancy — in fact, make it pointedly not fancy.”

  “We’ve got plenty of empty rooms. There’s even the brig if you like.” Two of the bridge officers let out snickers, which they quickly covered.

  “I’d prefer something closer to the shuttle deck. Let’s not keep the Chairman here any longer than is absolutely necessary, regardless of what he’s got to say.”

  Willis selected a small mess hall just down the corridor from the bay where the shuttle would be landing. Accompanied by OX, Peter and Estarra went to the room, where crewmen were rapidly cleaning and straightening up as best they could.

  “Please escort the Chairman here as soon as he disembarks,” Peter said. “I have no idea what sort of staff he’ll bring along, but I want at least one guard for each of his. At a minimum, two Confederation soldiers to be stationed outside this door.”

  A few minutes later, an impatient-looking Basil Wenceslas was shown into the mess hall. He hadn’t bothered to bring a single guard or adviser.

  Arrogant indeed, Peter thought.

  Or he wanted the discussions to be completely private.

  Though Basil maintained a businesslike demeanor, Peter knew the man well enough to detect subtle changes in his mannerisms. The Chairman seemed a bit ragged around the edges, even stressed. He frowned with disapproval at their surroundings. “A lunchroom? That’s how you receive me?”

  “Forget the pomp and ceremony, Basil. Let’s get down to business.” Peter calmly sat in a hard resin chair, facing his old mentor, his current nemesis. “Are you releasing Patrick Fitzpatrick and his wife, as I requested?”

  “That would be a good opening gesture,” Estarra added. “We would rather have asked King Rory in person, but you seem to have left him back on Earth.”

  Ignoring Estarra, Basil gave Peter a withering look. “Did you really think I would bring the King here, where your Confederation mercenaries could just seize him? Don’t be naïve.”

  “It’s pointless for us to butt heads this way. Speak your piece, Basil.”

  The Chairman placed an elbow on the mess hall table, after glancing down to make sure the surface was clean. With his other hand he removed a sheaf of printouts from his inner jacket pocket. “I have genetic comparisons here, since I assumed you would demand them. It’s proof that Rory is your brother, but I suspect you already know that.” He narrowed his gray eyes. “What happens now is up to you. I can arrange an accident for him, even an assassination, and blame it on Freedom’s Sword.” He seemed to like the idea. “I’ve got no qualms against killing him if you don’t behave.”

  “Behave? What does that even mean?” Peter couldn’t believe the Chairman was still t
reating him like a frightened child. Basil Wenceslas had regressed a great deal.

  “It means you will abdicate. You will stop this ridiculous insurrection that weakens the true government of humanity. You will dissolve the Confederation so that the scattered colonies and Roamer clans come back into the fold of the Hansa, where they belong. And you will agree to it now, before we end this meeting.”

  Peter let out a sigh. “Is that all?” He tapped the printouts. “You aren’t even going to give me a chance to run independent DNA tests with my own specialists?”

  The flippant response seemed to anger Basil. “I will not waste any more of humanity’s time. You forced me into this, Peter. King Rory’s blood will be on your hands. Your own brother.” He folded his arms, as if he had just announced a checkmate.

  Peter surprised him by responding with a chuckle. “Oh, Basil — you yourself instructed me in leadership. One boy’s life isn’t worth everything that’s at stake.”

  “You’re no good at bluffing. I know you won’t just abandon your brother. Mark my words, Peter — fall into line, or Rory dies.”

  “My brother Rory died many years ago when you killed him.” Peter tried to match the steel in his tone with what he heard in Basil’s. “I’ll admit you did a good job, and I did have my doubts for a while, but now I have proof positive. I tested his DNA from a small sample on a piece of flatware. Your propped-up King is not my brother, no matter how much I may want to believe he is. The genetics don’t match. He’s an imposter — and a pawn, like I was.”

  “Don’t try to con me. You can’t possibly take the risk.”

  Peter glanced back at the stoic Teacher compy. “I can have OX display the results of our DNA comparisons, if you like. Real comparisons.” He frowned down at the false printouts Basil had offered. “That boy is no more a relative of mine than you are. You can’t use him against me.”

  The Chairman stood abruptly. There was no one in the room who even pretended to support him. “You are treading on dangerous ground, Peter. You have pushed me for the last time.”

  “If I had a tank of ekti for every time you’ve said that,” Estarra quipped.

  He turned to her with a strange flush on his face. “I wouldn’t be so cavalier, if I were you.” He showed his teeth in a vicious, lupine smile. “Don’t forget, I have your sister Sarein as well.”

  Basil strode to the mess hall door and pushed his way past the two Confederation guards outside.

  129

  Sarein

  Now that Basil was away, Sarein had her best chance to escape and turn the tables on the Hansa.

  By freeing Patrick Fitzpatrick and releasing the hostage families, Deputy Cain would fundamentally undermine the Chairman’s authority, but that wasn’t enough to ensure lasting change. Sarein had to convince the King to return without delay.

  Basil would kill her if he guessed what she was doing.

  He had said he wanted her close by his side, wanted her to move into the protection of his underground bunker. If she turned on him now, just after he had made what he considered a generous gesture, Basil would see it as the ultimate betrayal.

  She had to leave.

  Sarein sealed the door to her quarters, not that she expected anyone to be eavesdropping. Nevertheless, she kept her voice low as she sent a signal, using the personal code Rlinda Kett had supplied after their meeting at the coffee shop. She prayed that Cain’s information was accurate, that the captain was still on Earth.

  The beefy woman answered almost immediately. “Ah, wonderful to hear from you, Sarein. Sorry we haven’t had time for a social visit. Things are more messed up than ever around here.” Then she smiled as a thought occurred to her. “So, you finally decided to take me up on my offer, right?”

  Captain Roberts was beside her on the screen. “I don’t like just waiting here to be smashed by a rock falling from the sky. It’s a lot better now with the Roamers helping, but still . . . We were planning to head out again this afternoon. Somebody’s bound to notice us here sooner or later.”

  Sarein drew a breath, forced certitude into her voice. “I need you to take me to King Peter’s flagship — to discuss business. After all, you’re the Confederation’s Trade Minister, and I’m the ambassador from Theroc.”

  Rlinda chuckled. “There’s a bit of backbone — good to see it!”

  Sarein leaned closer to the screen, her face drawn. “And we have to do this soon. No time to lose. Where shall I meet you?”

  “When will you be ready to leave?”

  “Now.”

  “That’s soon enough, all right.” Rlinda provided the grid number where the Blind Faith had landed in the Palace District spaceport.

  Although she had made her decision, Sarein hesitated before leaving her quarters forever. Yes, she and Cain had plotted to overthrow the Chairman, but considering the alternatives, this was perhaps the only way to save his life. She had spent so many years with Basil. He had carried her with him through the rough waters of interplanetary politics. Now, though, she wanted to go home.

  Feeling a tug at her heart — more for the Basil she remembered than for the one she was leaving — she went back to the comm screen and set it to record a message. Her last message. Even though she was afraid of him, her conscience demanded this of her.

  Sarein spoke from the heart. “Basil, you won’t find me here when you come back to Earth. For years I’ve turned a blind eye to your bad decisions, but I can’t support your policies any longer. Your Hansa is corrupt. It tramples the rights of the citizens it was meant to serve, and I won’t be part of it anymore.”

  She gave a bittersweet smile. “I appreciate what you did for me at one time. Though I’m sure you’ll never accept it, I did love you. Maybe I still do in a way, but I can’t tolerate what you’ve become.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Whatever happens from now on is the result of your own actions. Goodbye, Basil.”

  She switched off the recording and set the message transmission on a proximity timer. As soon as Basil returned to the Palace District, the automated system would upload the recording to his personal communication device.

  By then, Sarein would be long gone, safely away.

  130

  King Peter

  On the Jupiter’s command viewscreen, all eyes were on the Chairman’s diplomatic shuttle as it departed for the cluster of EDF ships. Admiral Willis paced the bridge with her hands linked behind her. She sniffed with undisguised distaste at the receding craft. “I can’t say I minded seeing him leave in a huff. But not so much as a goodbye? I thought he might leave me a gold watch for all my years of faithful service.” She turned to the King. “So, what did the blowhard really want?”

  Peter pressed his lips together. So far he had told no one else the truth about Rory. Exposing those details would have forced him to reveal his own humble roots, that he too was fundamentally an imposter. “He was just throwing his weight around — unsuccessfully.”

  As soon as Basil left the mess hall, Peter had felt the rush of adrenaline drain from his system. He had taken a few moments to compose himself before going to the bridge. Beside him, Estarra had expressed her concerns. “You can’t let the Chairman execute that poor boy out of spite, even if he isn’t your real brother.”

  Peter wore a grim smile. “Oh, Basil won’t kill him now. It wouldn’t gain him anything. As an ace up his sleeve, Rory is worthless. The most he can do is continue to serve as a figurehead.”

  “Are you really willing to take that risk, knowing the Chairman? He could murder him out of spite.”

  Peter felt a lump in his throat, knowing she might be right. “Rory — or whatever his real name is — may be no more than a patsy, but he’s just like I was, probably nabbed from the streets and forced to play a role. Basil turns the thumbscrews, and it’s all a matter of how well the kid can act. I understand what he’s going through — don’t worry, I won’t let him get killed for my sake.”

  “Actually, I’m more worried about Sarein,” she
said.

  “Me too.”

  Now that they had arrived on the Juggernaut’s bridge, he watched Admiral Willis fume quietly at the retreating diplomatic shuttle. After a long moment of tense silence, she mused, “You know, a single jazer blast would solve a lot of our problems.”

  “I can’t say that the thought hasn’t occurred to me, Admiral.” Peter knew that Basil himself would take the shot — and had done it, both with Maureen Fitzpatrick and with the outspoken Archfather. “But if I regain my rule through assassination, then how am I different from Basil? I can’t simply kill someone because I don’t like them, or because they’re bad, or because they’re in my way.”

  But, oh, it would be an easy, temporary solution.

  The price he’d pay later for taking that road, though, could bring about his downfall as surely as it had corrupted Basil Wenceslas, transforming him from effective leader into monster. He let out a slow sigh. “As King, I’ve got to lead by example. I can’t just barge in and tell the people of Earth what’s good for them. They need to get rid of him themselves.”

  Estarra said, “You know there’s a groundswell of protests. Patrick Fitzpatrick has stirred up a hornet’s nest of rebellion down there. What’s wrong with taking advantage of that?”

  Peter had watched the demonstrations grow more intense in the newsnet coverage, even in the short time since he had come to the Earth system. He realized the people might be ready after all. “You may be right.”

  Basil’s diplomatic shuttle continued to fly away. Admiral Willis made no comment about the King’s decision, except to say, “He’s out of range anyway.”

  131

  Patrick Fitzpatrick III

  Once Deputy Cain released them from Hansa detention, the rational, logical, and safe thing would have been for Patrick and Zhett to steal a small spacecraft and fly to the Confederation battle group.