“Bet it’s a broken leg,” observed Polanco. “By the length of time it took to treat him, it could even be a compound fracture.”
“That’s terrible,” said Darracott. She looked around to ask Banks a question about the fallen player, but the captain wasn’t there.
“Just summoned by his boss,” Sanchez quipped, “you know, the lieutenant.”
The game resumed and it was almost halftime when Banks and Lieutenant Nash reentered the suite, with Nash setting up a portable comm screen on a nearby table.
Banks addressed Polanco but wanted Admiral Sanchez to hear as well. “I’m sorry to bother you with this right now, sir, but I think you should take this call.”
“Who is it?” asked Polanco.
“Commodore Epstein, on Presidio Station.”
Polanco and Sanchez shot each other looks as Lieutenant Nash finalized the comm link.
An image of a distraught Epstein appeared on the screen. “I’m sorry to bother you Admiral, but I couldn’t locate Admiral Sanchez.”
Sanchez moved into the picture next to Polanco. “I’m right here, Commodore. What’s going on? What’s the problem?”
“Again, my apologies sirs, but something’s not right up here.”
“What are you talking about, Commodore? What’s not right?” asked Polanco. Darracott saw Polanco’s amusement over the discomfort of a subordinate fade into an expression of concern.
“Well,” began Epstein, sounding like a man reconsidering whether he should have made the call, “sir, have you issued any orders placing Admiral Choi in command of First Fleet?”
Polanco looked around at Sanchez and Banks. All of them looked concerned now.
“No, I have not. Who told you that Admiral Choi was in command of First Fleet?”
“Admiral Choi did, sir, on screen about ten standard minutes ago. She’s shuttling out to Galatea to take command. She told me that Admiral Maxon was taken ill.”
“Commodore, have you tried to reach Galatea?”
“That’s another thing, sir—all comms with the flagship are down. We can’t even raise them by TachCom. And there’s something else, Admiral, a few ships in the fleet are repositioning themselves. As far as I know, nobody’s given orders for fleet movement.”
“One minute, Commodore,” said Polanco as he gave Lieutenant Nash the sign to mute the comm.
“What is it, Victor? What’s wrong?” asked Darracott, her question going unanswered.
Sanchez placed his hand on Polanco’s arm. “You recognize what’s going on, don’t you?”
“Of course I do, it was my plan.”
“What plan? What’s going on?” asked Darracott again.
Polanco turned, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Brin Choi is using the same plan that I used last year to take over the government. She’s trying to seize control of First Fleet, and if she succeeds…”
Darracott understood. All that she and Polanco had accomplished, or might ever hope to accomplish, hung in the balance—not to mention possibly their lives as well.
“I wonder where Channa is,” thought Sanchez aloud.
“If I know Brin, she’s probably dead,” Polanco replied solemnly. “We need to relocate to a secure location—now.”
Captain Banks moved quickly to speak with Colonel Miyazato, head of Polanco’s security detail. The Admiral himself turned back to the comm monitor.
“Commodore, how many Marines do you have on the station right now?”
“Our usual compliment, sir, one company.”
Polanco gave a quick nod. “All right, Commodore, I want you to put two platoons in full combat gear, get them on dropships, and send them down here to the stadium in Boutwell, on the double. Their orders are to find me and my party.”
Epstein swallowed hard. “Right away, sir, and one other thing, Ad—” The signal cut out, Epstein’s image replaced with the SUSF logo.
Lieutenant Nash toyed with the comm controls for a few seconds. “I’m sorry Admiral, but the problem is on Presidio’s end. They’ve stopped transmitting.”
* * * *
As a standard contingency, Colonel Miyazato had prepared a safe room in the stadium, situated close to the government luxury suite. The colonel formed up his men, along with Darracott’s SSB security team commanded by Stormy Weathers, and they were ready to escort the principals to the new location. The Prime Minister imagined that Katsuro Miyazato was very anxious right now. If Choi and other space force officers were involved in a plot, Miyazato probably wasn’t sure he could trust every Marine either, even the ones coming from Presidio Station. And if Miyazato wasn’t anxious, Renata Darracott was positive that she was nervous enough for both of them.
The group began their move to the secure location. The safe room wasn’t very far away, but it felt like they were walking from Boutwell to Esterkeep. They would go down a short hallway in the back of the suite and into the concourse corridor, turn left, and about another twenty meters to a room on the right. Two Marines sent ahead by Miyazato signaled that the coast was clear.
Reaching the end of the short hall and turning into the larger concourse without incident, Darracott took a deep breath. She realized that somewhere along the way Victor had taken her hand. They grinned nervously at each other and he gave her a quick wink.
In the concourse, they found the two Marines sent ahead by Miyazato and four uniformed SSB security guards, wearing their familiar khaki uniforms and red berets. They all had their weapons at the ready and everyone’s head was on a swivel.
Darracott wasn’t sure who spoke, but she thought it was one of her security officers. A male voice behind her said, “Hey, these aren’t the same guards that—”
Stormy Weathers shoved her to the ground. Victor’s hand slipped out of hers as the chaos erupted. The sounds, flashes, and smells of gunfire erupted all around her. Voices yelled and screamed. Weathers had jumped on her back to protect her, but at the same time, he was shooting his pistol. His strong body pressed her to the floor as the shooting and the chaos continued, then she felt him shudder, and then nothing but the motionless weight of his body on hers.
After maybe ten seconds of hell, there was a moment of reorientation, similar from when one came out of hyperspace. Someone lifted the lifeless body of Stormy Weathers off her and a woman’s voice cracked with emotion as she said, “oh, no, not the boss too.”
Darracott looked around. All the red bereted security guards lay still. Marines were checking each of them, making sure they were dead and collecting their weapons. Several Marines were injured and at least two looked like they might be dead. As with Stormy Weathers, they died to protect her and Victor. Oh, Gods! Victor…
On the floor to her left was Victor Polanco, laying on his side, motionless, his dead eyes staring at her. As Darracott realized that she must have been the last thing he ever saw, tears begin to trickle down her cheeks. Colonel Miyazato was hunched over the body. Miyazato’s mouth was moving, but she heard nothing. Maybe he was saying a hushed prayer, or maybe he was silently cursing the assailants—or himself, she didn’t know. Finally, Katsuro Miyazato reached down and closed Polanco’s eyes.
“Rennie, are you injured?”
She looked toward the voice and found Leonardo Sanchez sitting on the floor, holding a uniformed body in his arms. It took her a moment to recognize who it was—it was Lieutenant Nash.
“No, I don’t think so. You?”
“No, because of this girl,” he said looking down at Nash. “One of them started shooting my way and she jumped in front of me. She saved my life. This girl, she saved my life.”
“Her name is Nash, I’m not sure I know her first name,” Darracott tried to say while crying.
“Yes, Lieutenant Nash. Lieutenant Nash saved my life,” Sanchez repeated as one of the Marines knelt at his side to offer assistance.
By now, Miyazato and Auric Banks had come to where Darracott sat on the floor.
“Prime Minister, are you sure you’re not hur
t,” asked Captain Banks.
Still crying, Darracott tried to answer. “No, I don’t think so. I’m not—”
“She may be in shock,” said the colonel. “We need to get out of this concourse and to a secure site, and do it fast, Captain.”
“And then what?”
“Then hunker down and wait for those Marines from Presidio.”
By now, Rachel Randa had joined the two men. She was second in command of the Prime Minister’s security team. “Colonel, are you certain your secure room is still secure?”
It took all the discipline that Miyazato could muster to contain himself. “It may be that no place is secure with the SSB around.”
Now it was Randa’s turn at self-control. She carefully tucked her necktie back under her suit jacket while checking her emotions. “Colonel, I lost two men in that firefight, including my boss. If we had been in on it, they’d still be alive, and you’d all be dead. Those guys may have been wearing SSB uniforms, but you can bloody well bet they weren’t SSB.”
People were starting to poke their heads out of the other suites and some of the soldiers helping with security were starting to turn up. Colonel Miyazato rushed into the nearest luxury suite and ordered everyone out.
“What the hell is going on?” demanded an incredulous VIP. When Miyazato fired his pistol into the ceiling, everyone ran for the door. His remaining team members and the security officers now under Randa’s charge moved everyone, including the dead, into the newly commandeered suite. Banks quickly negotiated with the ranking army officer on the scene to withdraw her soldiers and set up a security perimeter.
“Can we trust the army?” asked Miyazato when Banks returned.
“We may have to if those Marines don’t get here fast. We’ve got wounded who need medical attention and we need to get Admiral Sanchez and the Prime Minister to someplace more secure than this.”
For the first time, someone looked out the windows and noticed that the stadium was being evacuated—by the army.
* * * *
“Ouch, dammit! That hurts!” Renata Darracott must have fallen asleep, because she didn’t remember anything after she was helped into the confiscated suite. A medic had awakened her—an army medic. Several were giving treatment to the wounded under the watchful eye of Marine guns.
“You’ve got a broken finger, ma’am. Until a doctor can treat it, I’d like to numb it for you, if I may,” the young man spoke softly. He started to place an injector against her hand.
“Wait,” she snapped. “Will this make me dopey? Impair my judgment?”
“No, it shouldn’t. It’s just a local pain reliever, something to comfort your hand and keep down the swelling for a while. But, ma’am, you really should get to a hospital.”
This poor kid. He’s trying to help me, but I’m snarling at him. The Marines aren’t sure they trust him, so they might shoot him. Not a good day to be him—or me, or any of us.
“Go ahead,” she consented.
“You doing OK?” asked Admiral Sanchez, sitting in the chair next to hers.
She nodded. “Yeah, under the circumstances. Oh, Gods, Leo! Your leg!”
Sanchez glanced down at the hole in his pant leg. “Yeah, I got lucky there. Hit me in the phony one.” A bullet had gone through his prosthetic limb. “It’ll be easier to repair than most,” he said, surveying the bloody wounds and shocked faces of people around the room.
Darracott looked around. Several army medics were attending to the wounded. Banks and Miyazato were huddled together talking. The curtains had been drawn over the windows and the linkscreen was on with the volume turned low. Rachel Randa was standing near the screen, apparently monitoring what was being told to the public.
“Rachel, what’s going on,” asked Darracott. “What are they saying on ONElink?”
Randa glanced toward Banks and Miyazato, as if asking for permission to answer the question.
“Speak up, Rachel,” said Leo Sanchez as he stood, leaning on the arm of his chair for support. “The Prime Minister has rallied and so have I. Besides,” he looked in the men’s direction, “the PM and I outrank all three of you several times over. What are they saying?”
“The army’s declared martial law. They’re imposing a curfew beginning at seven o’clock this evening. All the SSB constables have been sent home and the army is assuming police duties. They’ve also surrounded the Home Ministry building in Esterkeep.” Randa looked crushed. “I hate to say it, but it’s starting to look like maybe some of our people were involved after all.” Her last sentence came out with the sound of shame.
“And nobody has any information on what’s happening in space?” asked Sanchez.
“Nothing’s being reported,” said Captain Banks.
Sanchez hobbled over to where the captain and Colonel Miyazato were. “I’ve got to get back to the Centroplex. We have to know what’s happening with First Fleet.”
“Captain,” asked Darracott, “I fell asleep for a while. How long have we been holed up here?”
Banks swallowed hard. “I don’t know, ma’am, about forty-five, maybe fifty minutes I suppose.”
Darracott stood up. “Are you telling me we’ve been here, sitting on our asses for almost an hour?”
Miyazato spoke in a strained voice. Darracott wondered if it was frustration with her or with the situation in general. “Prime Minister, we don’t know who to trust. For all we know, the army could be in this together with Admiral Choi.”
“It’s not the army, Katsuro. If it was, they’d have overrun this position a long time ago and we’d all either be under arrest or dead,” Darracott said. “Officer Randa, are they saying anything about Victor—about the First Consul?”
Randa wavered, and then answered. “Yes, ma’am. Everyone’s reporting he’s been assassinated.”
Darracott nodded. It was almost as though she needed confirmation, despite it happening right before her. Despite the fresh memories of his dead eyes staring at her, almost as though he were pleading with her in his final moment. Pleading for what? For his life, or for hers? For her to carry on without him? Or maybe nothing—he just died and now she was manipulating her memories and her sorrow to justify anything she might think or do.
“Well,” said Darracott, “it’s not like we could hide it for long.” That must have come out rather cold, because the men all gave each other glances of concern.
“I’m all right,” she assured them. “I’m just thinking. Why would the army surround the Home Ministry? And where is General Stavrianos?”
“I can answer those questions for you, Prime Minister.”
A gray-uniformed army colonel appeared in the doorway with one of Miyazato’s Marines escorting him.
“Colonel Luis Hinojosa, senior aide to General Stavrianos, ma’am. We’ve met before but you may not remember me. I believe Admiral Sanchez and Captain Banks will vouch for my identity.”
A look of relief came to Sanchez’s face. “Indeed we will, Colonel. Please come in and enlighten us. What the hell is going on?”
Hinojosa moved into the suite and sat down on a barstool. “So, it’s true about Admiral Polanco?”
Sanchez nodded.
“I am so sorry. He was a truly great man,” Hinojosa said in a sincere voice. He spoke to all of them, but mostly directed his condolences toward the Prime Minister. Victor was right about their love affair being an open secret.
“Admiral Sanchez,” the army colonel continued, “General Stavrianos is at the Centroplex and has instructed me to inform you that he has invoked Directive 402.”
They all looked at Sanchez for an explanation.
“What’s Directive 402?” asked Captain Banks. “I’m—was the Admiral’s Chief of Staff and I’ve never heard of it.”
“You don’t know all the secrets, Auric,” said Sanchez. “Directive 402 is a plan for the army to mobilize in order to protect the Directorate from an attempted coup. It was known only to the Admiral-in-Chief, Stavrianos and a few othe
rs, including myself. Colonel Hinojosa, what’s the situation out there?”
Hinojosa took a deep breath. “The army is in control on the ground. The conspirators seem to include Minister Siebert and some of the other top Home Ministry people. Anyone at the Ministry who was not arrested has been sent home on extended leave. Of course, they’ll all have to be vetted before they can report back to their jobs.” Hinojosa’s eyes wandered to Darracott’s SSB bodyguards. “I believe it would be prudent to include the Prime Minister’s security team in that as well.”
“No.”
Miyazato looked Hinojosa square in the eye. “These people fought beside us and two of them died alongside two of my Marines and Admiral Polanco. Vet them later if you like, but for now, they’re with us.” Out of the corner of her eye, Darracott saw Rachel Randa stand a little taller.
The army officer looked around at the remaining SSB officers. “Your case is compelling, Colonel, and I believe you are correct. I meant no disrespect.”
“Colonel Hinojosa, what about the situation in space?” pressed Sanchez.
Hinojosa shook his head. “Unclear. We know that there was an attempt to seize Presidio Station. It took everything they had, but Commodore Epstein’s forces held on.”
“So that’s why our Marines never showed,” mumbled Banks.
“Other than that, the space picture is muddled. There seems to have been fighting aboard the Galatea, but as to who won…” The Colonel’s voice trailed off and he shrugged in uncertainty.
Darracott turned to Admiral Sanchez. “At the Centroplex, who’s in command of Space Operations in your absence?”
“Alexander Carson. I’m sure he’s loyal.”
“Loyal to whom?”
Sanchez stiffened at the question. “Loyal to the Directorate. Loyal to me. Loyal to Victor Polanco.”
Darracott was satisfied and turned back to the army liaison. “Colonel Hinojosa, we need several things done and need them done quickly. Some of our people here require further medical attention. We also need to—” She paused as her emotions tried to hijack her resolve. “We need to move the bodies, all of them. They need to be taken out of this place and we need to get out of here ourselves. Is the capital secure?”
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