by Eric Thomson
Morane fought to keep a guileless expression while he mangled the truth.
“We did, in fact, negotiate, Madame. I made a counterproposal Rorik found convincing enough to accept.”
Yakin’s lips compressed into a thin line.
“Please don’t insult my intelligence, Jonas. You scared him, and he’s not a man to take fright easily.”
Morane repressed the urge to sigh.
“Very well. I invited Rorik and Severin Downes to visit the vault along with Sister Gwenneth. Once there, we discussed progress, and I mentioned we’d begun to store classic works of fiction. Rorik was dubious about doing so before we finished with the basic technical and scientific books. Therefore I gave him a practical demonstration of why fiction has its place in our vault. It sufficed to open his eyes on many things, including the wisdom of not reneging on his earlier commitments.”
Yakin’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“Pardon my crudeness, but stop feeding me bullshit.”
“The practical demonstration involved a nineteenth-century piece of fiction by one Edgar Allan Poe called The Cask of Amontillado. I drew a thumbnail sketch of the plot for our guests, then pointed out the similarities between our situation and that of the tale’s characters. It proved to be a winning argument. Perhaps reading the story will show you why. It is short. The university’s virtual library has copies in both archaic English and modern Anglic.”
“And that’s all you’ll say on the matter?”
“That’s all I can say, Madame.”
“In that case, I will read your Mister Poe’s opus, and then we can resume this conversation.”
“I’d be delighted.”
“Yakin, out.”
Morane slumped back in his chair and exhaled loudly. The governor would not approve of what he and Gwenneth did. She’d earned the respect of most Lyonesse citizens, even those who didn’t like her personally, precisely because of her unimpeachable integrity. What he’d done to Hecht and Downes was criminal, even though few would blame him, and that wouldn’t sit well with her. Perhaps he should prepare a letter of resignation, just in case. Yakin was smart enough to deduce last night’s events after reading about Montresor’s revenge upon Fortunato.
His communicator chimed again less than thirty minutes later.
— 45 —
Yotai
A soft rap on the office door pulled Marta from the fifth century Earth described by her book. After Custis excluded her from affairs of state and barred her from visiting any of the garrison’s messes, she had little else to do but read in between excursions beyond the palace walls.
“Highness?”
“Come in, Jacelyn.” Marta gestured at the room’s other chair. “Sit. What’s up?”
“Bad news. The Retribution Fleet is back. It pushed through to the Ariel system from Isabella and struck the resident battle group hard. Ariel itself wasn’t touched, but we lost another ten ships to their eight.”
Marta’s lips compressed into a thin line.
“Fools. If they’d withdrawn Manard’s task force to Ariel instead of letting him fight and die, the imperials wouldn’t have dared go beyond Isabella.”
“There’s more.”
“I guessed as much.”
“An imperial formation entered the Parth system for the first time. Rear Admiral Ostrow, who commands the 164th, chased them off with minimal losses, but intelligence believes the incursion was nothing more than a reconnaissance in force, meaning they’ll be back and in greater strength.”
“The noose is tightening.” She shook her head. “Sadly, I doubt Zahar will withdraw Ostrow and leave that planet of misery to our enemies.”
“Agreed, Madame.”
“Do you think Dendera concentrated her forces on the Coalsack because she sees it as her biggest rival for supremacy, or whether we’re the last rebel sector still standing?”
“Intelligence figures it’s the former.”
“And for once, I concur.”
“There’s still more.”
Marta smiled at her aide.
“Of course there is. Bad news always comes in threes, or so ancient lore tells us.” She tapped the reader with her knuckles. “It’s amazing what you can learn when you have nothing but time on your hands.”
“I admire your patience. I’d be climbing up the walls with frustration by now.”
“The third event?”
“Another incursion into the Mykonos system through Wormhole Three. This time the imperials jumped directly for Wormhole Two. The picket ship lying in wait by Wormhole One watched them transit out to the sterile system between Mykonos and Micarat. The formation’s size would indicate another reconnaissance in force.”
“Bracketing Yotai.”
Bram nodded.
“That’s my guess.”
“They’ll find Micarat more than strong enough to repel the battle groups they unleashed against Isabella and Mykonos.”
“Which means they might probe Yotai itself next since they already enjoy local superiority in the branches ending at two of our four stable termini and won’t try coming via the fifth, unstable wormhole. Why spend your strength against the sector’s second most important system when you can leave it to wither on the vine by taking the capital? If they push Zahar’s ships out of Ariel, that’ll make it three. This won’t end well, will it, Madame?”
Marta slowly shook her head.
“It can’t. There was never more than a slight chance Grand Duke Custis’ scheme to found a rival empire and save something from Dendera’s mess might work. The best we can hope for now is an epiphany that will lead him and Zahar into surrendering and fleeing for the badlands before millions more die.”
“And that won’t happen.”
“No. Custis will want his twilight of the gods. He’s been invested in this scheme since the first rumblings of revolt in the Shield Sector. Dendera got wind of it, though she found no proof, which is why she exiled him and his entourage to Parth as both punishment and prevention.”
Bram fell silent for almost a minute, visibly chewing on her thoughts.
“Madame, I’m a Marine. We’re trained to face death. But getting bombarded from orbit by people who we once called comrades seems like an idiotic way to die. And for what?”
“I’m sure you’ll find few around here who would disagree, yet even fewer brave or desperate enough to voice their fears.”
For the first time since making Bram’s acquaintance, Marta reached out to touch her mind. So far, the aide had proved herself to be honest, open, and candid to a fault, but before taking the final step of trust, she had to know.
“Admiral Zahar won’t tolerate defeatists in his command. I’ve heard of senior officers who disappeared after voicing concerns too loudly. Ostensibly they were posted to frontier systems, but I doubt they ever made it off Yotai’s surface.” She shrugged with resignation. “Ours not to reason why, ours but to do and die.”
Marta’s third eye told her the Bram’s hidden self wasn’t much different from her outer shell.
“Words spoken by soldiers since the dawn of time. But I don’t intend to stay around and find out what an orbital bombardment feels like on the receiving end if I can help it.”
A frown of curiosity creased Bram’s forehead.
“Madame?”
“If I told you at some point — I don’t know when it might happen, if ever — that a ship is inbound to take me off Yotai, would you let me leave by myself? Would you go with me? Or would you denounce me to Zahar so I couldn’t flee?”
Her answer came almost immediately.
“I’m your aide until relieved of duty, Madame. I’d come with you.” Marta knew without the shadow of a doubt, Bram spoke the truth. “But why run away? You’re the empress-designate.”
“In no more than name. Since showing that I not only won’t be a mere figurehead but appear to be blessed with more strategic acumen
than Custis, I’ve become a placeholder. Once he finds and recovers his original choice or Zahar dispenses with a regent and makes himself emperor, I’ll become one of those senior officers who vanished without a trace.”
Bram fell silent again for several long heartbeats.
“A task force left Yotai three days after the incident in the briefing room, bound for Lyonesse. Would finding and recovering his first choice be its mission?”
“Perhaps. If he’s willing to weaken his forces and risk sending ships far beyond Coalsack-controlled wormhole junctions, it has to be important. Zahar wouldn’t let him waste precious ships on a side errand otherwise.”
“If you’d like, I could try to find out more.”
Marta shook her head.
“Don’t. The less attention they pay us, the easier it will be to slip away when and if my ship comes.”
“Can I ask who that ship belongs to and why it would come here?”
“Sorry, Jacelyn, but it would be advisable I keep that to myself until we’re both safely aboard.”
“Understood. I can’t reveal what I don’t know.” She looked around the room. “Funny, but thinking about leaving all this doesn’t exactly fill my heart with sadness, even if it means I’ll no longer be a serving Marine Corps officer. In fact, now you’ve told me we might escape, I feel a lot more optimistic about my future.”
“The operative word is might. No promises, no guarantees.”
“I understand, Madame. How will you find out the ship is inbound?”
“To be honest, I’m not sure. Just as I’m not sure whether it will come.”
A light went on in Bram’s eyes.
“So that’s why we’ve been roaming around Founder’s Park, under the Lena spaceport’s main approach path. We’re scouting potential landing spots.”
“In case we need one, yes. I couldn’t say how we’ll be picked up, only that a shuttle needs to land somewhere unobtrusive. Call it exercising the power of positive thinking. If I’m ready, my ship will come.”
“From your lips to the Almighty’s ear. May I make a suggestion?”
“Certainly.”
“I assume you don’t intend to leave with merely the clothes on your back.”
“No. We should bring a modicum of clothing, and I’m sure you own a few personal items you’d rather not leave behind.”
“I do, Madame. Since it would seem strange if we’re seen leaving the palace at an unusual hour carrying travel bags once the ship arrives, I propose we find a suitable storage spot between here and Founder’s Park where we can slowly accumulate our things.”
Marta smiled at her aide.
“An excellent idea. Why don’t we start today? I feel like fresh air and a few hours of freedom.”
**
Custis and Zahar, standing on the former’s office balcony, absently watched a staff car emerge from the palace grounds and lift off toward the city. Zahar’s communicator buzzed at that exact moment. He quickly glanced at its screen.
“Lady Marta and her aide are headed for what I presume is another nature hike.”
“So long as she stays away from anything important, I don’t care.”
Custis shrugged away his admiral’s words with the irritation of someone whose long-cherished plans were slowly turning to dust. News of fresh reconnaissance intrusions by Retribution Fleet formations augured more death and destruction before he could consolidate his forces and present an overwhelming defense. That Marta was right only served to feed his simmering anger.
“Then why bother keeping her alive?”
“She’s still a useful symbol. But once Commodore Bryner brings Corinne back to Yotai, you can stick a knife through her heart for all I care.”
“If he finds her, and if he returns. I realized Your Grace doesn’t wish to hear me say it, but we would be better off abandoning the idea of placing someone with imperial blood on a Yotai-centered throne. Call the current situation an emergency and make yourself first citizen for the duration. No one will object, not with Dendera’s apocalyptic vengeance coming at us from every branch of the wormhole network.”
“And what about those among your senior staff who’ve lost faith in our plans?” When Zahar didn’t immediately reply, Custis turned a cold smile on him. “You thought I wasn’t aware? I also have my informants. If we weren’t facing immediate strategic problems, I’d order your headquarters purged of defeatists and doubters. But under the current conditions…”
“That is probably wise, Your Grace.” Zahar fell silent for a full minute while the car vanished between Lena’s glistening towers. “Perhaps you might arrange for Lady Marta to suffer a fatal accident, then proclaim an executive regency while we seek another suitable candidate instead of waiting for Bryner’s return. That regency can last for however long you like.”
“Why are you so damned keen on seeing her die?”
“She is tainted by the witches and their evil creed.”
“I didn’t know you were superstitious.”
“Hardly, but that’s neither here nor there. Marta hangs around us like an omen of destruction and watching her predictions come true is unnerving a lot of my officers. Her death would clear the air.”
“Perhaps.”
Custis kept his eyes on the horizon, wondering whether Zahar would simply take matters into his own hands and murder Marta without approval. His knife bore testament to a bloody disposition, which led Custis to ponder whether Zahar might not lose patience with him sooner rather than later and seize power, as he had done once before.
“Let me sleep on it.”
“Don’t sleep too long, Your Grace.”
— 46 —
Lyonesse
“Madame?” Morane braced himself for the worst, but Yakin’s composure seemed as perfect as ever.
“I just want the answer to one thing, Jonas. Who suggested that story? I doubt you stumbled on it by chance. I consider myself better read than most and never heard of Mister Poe.”
Of all the questions she might have asked, he didn’t expect this one.
“I’m sorry, Madame, but I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”
The ghost of a smile touched her lips.
“Meaning the Almighty moves in mysterious ways. Fair enough. Please don’t make a habit of using Mister Poe as reference material for your political skirmishes. I took a quick look at more of his oeuvre, and he strikes me as having been a rather strange man.”
“I won’t. My personal preferences tend toward Sun Tzu and Niccolo Machiavelli, among others.”
“The latter isn’t much of an improvement if you ask me.”
“So noted.”
“Yakin, out.”
Moments later, Brigid DeCarde stuck her head through his office door.
“Was that the governor?”
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s impolite to listen in?”
She shrugged, unrepentant.
“Sound travels when you leave your privacy settings at zero. All I heard was her lovely voice. The words eluded me.”
“Elenia found Rorik’s change of heart suspect, so I gave her something while leaving myself a margin of plausible deniability.”
“And she figured it out. That lady is no addled noblewoman from Dendera’s corrupt court. Lyonesse could do worse than keep her on as head of state indefinitely.”
“True.”
“That being said, I’m here not to spy but make a suggestion. After sleeping on last night’s events, I think it might be wise if you asked Adri for a few of her irregulars as discreet bodyguards whenever you leave the base. I’d suggest a squad of Pathfinders, but even in civilian getup, they would stand out and give Rorik the idea you’re afraid of retaliation, which might be counterproductive.”
“You think someone could be daft enough to threaten my life?”
“Someone or rather several someones were daft enough to apply pressure precisely on your biggest p
ain point, the vault. The fact they couldn’t predict you’d react by threatening their lives tells you plenty about the general intelligence level of Rorik Hecht’s entourage.”
“Point taken. I’ll speak with Adri.”
“Already done. Just make sure to let the ops center know whenever you leave the base.”
Morane gave her a mock frown.
“And what would you have done if I’d rejected the idea?”
“Found someone in your office to warn the ops center whenever you leave the base.”
“Might I infer from this solicitude for my health you’re not interested in becoming chief of the defense staff?”
“Not anytime soon. Once the new constitution is in place, we can talk about my career aspirations again. Until then, it’s best you keep running the show. I can’t muster your level of patience when dealing with fools. If it were up to me, I’d have locked those two clowns in a cabinet for an hour. Or a few days, depending on how much they pissed me off.”
“Don’t think I wasn’t tempted. Let Adri know I’m fine with the idea. If her irregulars want to give me a sign and let me know they’re around, that’s good too.”
“Will—” The insistent buzz of a priority call from the operations center interrupted DeCarde’s reply.
“Morane.”
“Centurion Greff, sir. The wormhole traffic control buoy reported the arrival of a ship called Dawn Runner.” Morane and DeCarde looked at each other in surprise. Another Order of the Void vessel? “Its captain, who goes by the name Korax sent a signal on the priority subspace channel moments later, advising he carries two hundred and five Void Brethren, refugees from the civil war, four mercenaries, and two children. He states he came across Captain Rinne of Dawn Trader several months ago. At that time Rinne informed him Lyonesse was now home to the Order’s head abbey for this part of the galaxy. Myrtale, who has this cycle’s wormhole picket duty, confirms Dawn Runner is, in every important aspect, Dawn Trader’s sister ship.”
