Schism of Blood and Stone (The Starfield Theory Book 1)

by Brian Frederico

  He thinks I can help protect Salena. Not only that I might actually consider it, but do so out of duty. Is he so ignorant of the political situation or does he think something might actually change? He wondered.

  Damien chose his words very carefully, imagining the flickering flame in his mind's eye. Blow too hard and the candle went out. “I can only promise to do what is best for the Commonwealth. I'm afraid you may have overestimated my influence with the other Conclave houses. Salena will be safe enough on Magdeborg under the protection of Conrad and the House Guard and your own forces. Magnus is a smart and able young man, yes? I must return to the border as soon as possible.”

  Richard seemed almost hurt by Damien's noncommittal response, but nodded understandably. He returned his gaze to the window, seeming content to mull over the conversation and leave Damien in peace for now.

  Damien leaned back in the leather seat and closed his eyes. Richard was an odd member of the nobility. He meant well, but he had no knack for politics or people. He'd inherited his dukedom thanks to the laws of primogeniture. He was the oldest male and therefore heir. As far as threats went, Richard was pretty minimal. His son, however, was a different story. If Richard was telling the truth and Magnus had planned and executed the attack that wiped out the Sørensens, then he was certainly dangerous indeed. The fact that Magnus had toppled the Sørensen defense in less than a day either spoke to his ability or to the lack of Sørensen preparedness. If Dietrich Sørensen had usurped the throne, he'd have been better prepared to defend the planet. That meant Magnus had taken them by surprise and no Sørensen coup had actually occurred. If Salena's reign on the throne proved permanent, he stood as her heir and future Archduke. He must learn more about Sir Magnus Teton-Sten.

  Salena's claims might have fooled the Conclave, and even cowed them into submission, but Damien was unconvinced. He immediately began compiling a list of people he needed to talk to. Strangely, Richard did not mention Conrad Sten or his unit and Damien started to ask about him when Richard looked up suddenly, concern etching his face as he strained to look out the window. Curious, Damien followed his gaze. The streets ahead were choked with people. Lots of people.

  Another welcoming crowd, Damien surmised.

  Richard opened a compartment in the car's seat and pulled out a radio. “Commander, where in Ithix did these people come from?”

  The radio crackled. “Unknown, sir. I don't know how they got our route.”

  Damien narrowed his brow. “What is this, Richard?”

  Richard cast him a look, apparently unwilling to answer. Damien looked outside as the car began to pass the throngs. There were easily several thousand people screaming and yelling, holding signs and pounding on the cars as they rolled past. Of course, the car's windows were bulletproof so they posed no actual physical danger even if they were armed, but the effect was still startling.

  “End the tyranny!”, “No war for peace!”, “Dead Commonwealth Soldiers = Sten Failures!” some of the signs read. Protestors, Damien mused, how unusual.

  “I'm sorry, Damien. Your brother would never had tolerated this nonsense,” Richard said.

  And you were not meant to see this, Richard probably would have liked to add, but had the good sense not to. Protests against anything were highly unusual. Most citizens and newspapers had the rights to free speech and press as far as the local nobility allowed, but assembly was not among those rights. It was one thing to have ideas, but it was another to try to voice them to large groups. That law was the result of an inherent fear the nobility had of the untamed masses. There were so many of them and so few of us. Allowing too many to gather in one place was asking for trouble. What Damien found was that the harder the authorities squeezed, the more the populace grew discontent. For every Starfield Theorist the Azuren killed, more took his place. Either Salena understood this or things were much worse than they seemed. Damien bet on the latter.

  One man walked alongside the vehicle, his hands pressed against the windows, shouting, “Why do you let your sister take advantage of us, Damien. She jails our friends, our families, and she has no regard for the law your brother maintained! Why won't you help us?”

  Damien watched him intently, saw the fire in his eyes, his face pleading. He was nicely dressed as far as the lower classes went, a cap on his head and a cloak over his shoulders. “My daughter fought with you on Skagen and gave her life in service to the Commonwealth. Won't you do something for her?”

  He fought against the pull of the crowd, but only managed a few more paces before being swallowed again and slipping out of sight.

  Richard ignored the crowds as most nobility usually did, but he was watching the car in front of the limo, the car that contained his children. It was much more top heavy and wobbled dangerously back and forth as the crowd assaulted it.

  “Sergeant...”

  “I know, sir. The lead cars are having trouble making a path. I'm not sure how much more we can last here,” the man on the radio shouted back. “We're requesting permission to open fire.”

  “No! Do not shoot at these people, it will only inflame the situation,” Damien ordered.

  Salena would have had shoot on sight orders before the convoy even moved, Damien thought.

  The crowds increased in their ferocity, throwing stones and other objects at the cars. A bottle of something smashed against the window splashing it like a deluge. They surged suddenly, surrounding the car in front. Richard bit his lip, then his eyes widened with fear as the car tipped violently then landed on its right side with a massive crash of broken glass and crumpled metal. People scattered away for a moment then converged on the crippled vehicle. The limo came to a halt and the driver seemed to be preparing to go around it.

  “No, you fool! Stop the car!” Richard demanded.

  Richard threw open the limo's door and, to Damien's horror, stepped into the crowd.

  “What are you doing?!” Damien shouted after him.

  The only thing more dangerous than moving a motorcade through an angry crowd of peasants was actually stepping out into one. Damien lunged after him, attempting to pull him back in the car, but Richard was already out and into the crowd moving ahead. Damien watched as the crowd mobbed him, tried to pull him down, obviously recognizing who he was. But Richard reached into his uniform and pulled out a pistol.

  Damien cringed, waiting for the spurts of blood that would surely come as he fired into his assailants. But instead, Richard held it over his head and fired three quick rounds. Those immediately around him backed off, watching him intently. Richard walked quickly to the overturned vehicle. Some protestors had swarmed the car and were scuffling with the sergeant driver, trying to tear away his weapons. Cassandra Teton-Sten had climbed out first and reached in for her brother, occasionally needing to fend off the violent protestors by swinging at them with a stiletto. She may have been their political child, but she was certainly trained in self defense. She lashed out with her heeled shoes, landing one blow on the head of a protestor who reeled back screaming. The protestors quickly learned they couldn't overpower her and instead turned their attention to the poor sergeant.

  The sergeant struggled, managing to kick one protestor in the head, sending him off the car, then punched another, sending him to the pavement. The other two protestors trying to rip free his service pistol backed off when the sergeant racked his rifle and aimed it at one of them.

  This is going to be a disaster if he opens fire,Damien realized. He shook his head, cursing his stupidity, and stepped into the crowd. As he emerged, the crowds quieted. Carefully, Damien ignored the protestors, stepping around them rather than through them, and made his way to the car.

  “Stay your weapon, Sergeant,” he whispered to the terrified driver. He put the gun back on the safety and shouldered it, too terrified to disobey.

  Damien assisted in pulling out Magnus Teton-Sten from the top window. He had several small cuts, but otherwise appeared unharmed. He held his synthetic arm out like
a weapon. Despite its ordinary skin tone, its raw power could likely crush a human skull and also serve as a shield. Magnus was cursing quietly and glared daggers at the crowd and those who'd been responsible for the situation, keeping his real hand firmly wrapped around the hilt of his blade.

  Soldiers had piled out of the leading cars and were just now making their way to the scene. Damien waved them off as Richard led his children back to the limo. Despite the action, Damien realized the crowd's attention was firmly on him. I ought to say something to diffuse this mess. Peter – and probably Salena if she were able – would use force. Let's try a different approach.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please. This is a trying time for us all. We shall do our best to remedy the situation, but you must give us time to work. Running around in the streets attacking the nobles and destroying storefronts and public works only hurts our cause. Please return to your homes and offer your prayers for our warriors who stand in harm's way and for our administrators who are trying to save the Commonwealth herself.”

  Damien turned his back on them and walked back to the limo's open door. That was probably the weakest public speech I've ever given, Damien thought as he took his seat. Nobody cheered.

  Cassandra was still busy sending angry looks at the crowd while Magnus was nursing his wounds with ice wrapped in a bag, cursing the protestors. Richard was busy on the radio trying to get the convoy moving again, apparently willing to sacrifice the damaged vehicle. Slowly the cars began to move again and the limo driver eased around the downed car, the crowds slowly making room to allow for the maneuver.

  What was it I said? 'Our' cause? Whose cause is that? Damien wondered. They drove on in silence.

  Archduchess Salena Teton-Sten

  Duchess of Danvers, Archduchess of the Magdeborg Commonwealth

  8 March, 23,423

  Sten Palace, Magdeborg, Magdeborg Commonwealth

  ______________

  Salena Teton-Sten rubbed at her temples, easing away a headache that threatened to blow into a full blown migraine. There were the endless meetings, whiny Conclave House Lords, military concerns, foreign dignitaries and worst of all an Azuren Legate demanding a meeting. Each matter was concerning enough she wished she had clones to attend to them all. How did Peter ever balance all this?

  She was trying to relax in the same quarters of the Commonwealth palace she had when she was a girl after a long day of seeing dignitaries and diplomats. She'd dumped much of the workload on subordinates, but nobles were prideful and being handled by a non-noble staffer simply did not satisfy their need for attention. They continued to bombard her office with demands for meetings and constantly jockeyed with one another and her overworked scheduling staff to increase their position in line. So far they were all looking out for themselves, some even presented marriage proposals for either Magnus or Cassandra to solidify their standing amongst the Teton-Stens and the new order of power.

  The Conclave Houses were infuriating, Salena had decided. Damien's arrival had stirred them up a bit as she'd intended. His entire visit would be controlled and monitored, he would say and do nothing that wasn't preplanned. The other houses would watch him carefully, but they weren't familiar with him. He'd spent his entire career away from Magdeborg and he had no contacts amongst the houses. He would find few allies there.

  On top of their usual antics was the increasing problem with the Sørensen resistance. There had been assassinations of low level officials, a few bombings of military checkpoints and vehicle and even a shooting in a police station. One of them even seemed intended to draw out Magnus or another Teton-Sten for a chance at assassination.

  Let's not think about that, she thought. I can't have my son picked off by murderers. I don't even want him leaving the palace again.

  Some of the attacks were simply civilians who were looking to create problems, but most of the attacks showed a sort of coordination that went beyond violent thugs. The Sørensens were not out of the picture, yet. Her security had stepped up their efforts as well, conducting searches and arrests across the city and making occasional forays into the countryside when they had actionable intelligence. The countryside was still dangerous though and firmly in the hands of the Sørensens.

  Salena picked up a brush and began to run it through her hair. She did not like what she saw reflected in the mirrors. She looked far older than her fifty-eight years, as if she'd aged four decades in the last week. Her hair was graying faster than she'd feared. Damien's carefully groomed silver mane made him look regal, experienced and dangerous. Salena looked haggard, weighed down and stressed. The lines on her face looked like trenches, dragging her face down and ruining the beauty she had worked so hard to cultivate. She hadn't slept more than a few hours a night in weeks.

  She cringed again when she remembered the Azuren Legate had requested a meeting to discuss “stability issues.” And by requested he had meant demanded. The Commonwealth rested just over the border of Unclaimed space, a collection of independent worlds that acted as a buffer between the Azuren homeworlds called the Tri-Sphere and human space. They treated potential conflicts around the Human Core very seriously. Instability along the borders often led to increases in piracy and weapons smuggling and an increase in general discontent. She doubted they cared who was in charge just as long as they were able to limit the amount of conflict. That was always the Azuren goal, order and stability no matter the cost.

  The conflict with the Dominion was considered only moderate-level and proceeded at the pace the Azuren dictated. They controlled the stargates which meant they controlled access to territory. The Dominion would invade Goteborg, not when the Dominion was ready, but when the Azuren were ready. When Peter died, the Azuren forced a ceasefire on the Dominion, ordering them to halt their attacks until the Commonwealth had a chance to recover. She knew the meeting with the Legate would determine the fate of the ceasefire. Salena knew that as long as the monarchy was stable, the war would continue. Wars in the Human Core were not to the death as they were in the Fringe, but rather matters of pride and honor amongst sovereigns to be settled in a civilized fashion. Fighting would continue until the aggressor felt honor had been satisfied. In this case, war had continued off and on for over a century.

  With Damien on Magdeborg, a huge swath of territory was without his leadership. Though the regional dukes could keep order there, they did not stand united against the Dominion. Even though Damien was dangerous to her regime, he was the ranking Commonwealth general. Perhaps it would be better to keep Damien on Magdeborg, away from his army and his power. Defense of the border would fall to the local house lords and probably Sir Aaron Mercer-Sten, Damien's protege. She had never met the young man and had no idea if he was even capable of protecting anything let alone an entire border. House Mercer holds a good bit of territory over there, but they've already lost a world and half their noble family to the Dominion. Would he be able to hold them off when the ceasefire ends?

  She felt hands on her shoulders and tensed suddenly, her heart jumping.

  “Easy, there. You looked lost,” Richard Teton said quietly.

  She relaxed just slightly, recognizing the gentle touch of her husband.

  Filipov had made her paranoid about possible retaliatory assassination either by the Sørensens, Damien or some other faction. She had no doubt that Peter's death was planned, whether Dietrich had admitted it or not. Many dukes and duchesses met their untimely demise simply by being on the wrong end of someone's political agenda. In today's climate, there was probably a line of would-be assassins simply waiting for her to falter. Top on that list: Lord General Damien Sten.

  Am I really that jumpy? Peter wasn't safe in the palace and neither am I. Would Damien actually try something like that here and now?

  “I know. It's just been a long day,” she replied.

  Richard didn't respond, but she assumed he was nodding in agreement. While thankful for the attention, she couldn't help but be frustrated at him. She had not told him to gr
eet Damien, in fact, she wanted the two to never exchange words. Richard was too unassuming. He'd grown up a Teton in the Danvers palace were things were much more calm. Sten politics on Magdeborg was a free for all. Richard liked to talk and Damien liked to listen. Had they been anything but Commonwealth royalty the brothers-in-law might have been good friends, a natural pair. But on Magdeborg, everyone had a political agenda and here, those agendas could destroy worlds, kill billions and dramatically change the balance of power. How much had Richard let slip?

  On top of that, there was the attack on the convoy by protestors, though they were really nothing more than violent anarchists trying to undermine the regime. Magnus and Cassandra had been in danger. She felt her stomach bottom out again like it had when she fist heard of the attack. Magnus didn't have his destrier's thick armor to protect him this time. He'd been roughed up, but, thankfully, avoided serious injury.

  “Did you have a nice ride with Damien?” She asked innocently enough.

  “He's quiet like Peter. But he seemed casual, almost friendly if you can believe that. He promised me he would do whatever he could to, uh, how did he put it? 'Do what was best for the Commonwealth' or somesuch.”

  Salena almost cringed. “Damien phrases things very precisely and says what he means. What is best for the Commonwealth might not be what is best for us.”

  Richard stopped rubbing her shoulders and chuckled. “We are the Commonwealth, Sal. What you did was the right thing to do. When the Sørensens took power, you had to act. Damien was on the border, unaware of the coup here. You protected the sovereignty of House Sten and the people have accepted you as Archduchess just as you said they would except for a few extremists.”

  Salena turned the chair toward her husband as he seated himself on the corner of the bed. “Like the ones you ran into. They will look to Damien for leadership. They assume he opposes me.”