Ruler of Naught (61 page)

“I am now standing on the bridge of the
Flower of Lith
,
flagship of the Rifter fleet occupying Malachronte system. Its captain, Hreem
chaka-Jalashalal, known throughout the Thousand Suns as Hreem the Faithless,
has agreed to an interview.”

The novosti faced Hreem. “Captain, refugees from Charvann
say you forced the surrender of that planet with some sort of superweapon. Is
that true?”

“Yes.”

“Do you intend the same here?”

“No.” Norio could feel Hreem’s amusement growing.

“Why are you treating the two systems differently?”

“My orders were unequivocal concerning Charvann. I have
considerably more latitude here.”

Norio smiled. Never before had Hreem an audience so large
for his words, and he was making the most of the opportunity.

“Orders? From whom, if I may ask?”

“Jerrode Eusabian, Avatar of Dol, Lord of Vengeance and the
Kingdoms of Dol’jhar. Now Panarch of the Thousand Suns. Actually, a thousand and
one suns, I guess.” Hreem slapped his knee as he laughed.

There was a momentary silence. Norio knew the refugees from
Charvann and elsewhere must have reported the news, but its confirmation by the
captain of a Rifter destroyer had to be a shock despite that.

“Then, Captain, if you will, tell us your intentions toward
Malachronte.”

“I have no intentions toward Malachronte,” replied Hreem,
with all apparent mildness.

Bertranus blinked.

“Then why are you here?”

“I’ve come to take possession of the battlecruiser under
construction in the Ways. Unfortunately the Aegios, Ferniar Ozman, has not been
entirely cooperative.”

“And that is why you asked to speak to his mother, on Sync
Ozman?”

Hreem smiled. “It was you who suggested his mother. I merely
requested contact with someone close to him, who might give me an insight into
his character, to ease the negotiations. There is very little time before the
contingent from Dol’jhar arrives, at which point I will no longer have very
much control.” He paused and attempted a sorrowful look, which was only
partially successful. Norio suppressed a snort of laughter as Hreem continued.
“They have far less patience than I do.”

The novosti looked into distance again. “Do we have her on-line?”
He paused. “All right.”

The captain looked over at Norio, who nodded fractionally.
As they had discussed, the mention of Dol’jhar was intended to cast Hreem in
the position of Malachronte’s ally, or at least the lesser of two evils.

The novosti’s emotions indicated that it was working. The
tempath shivered with anticipation; this would make the coming whiplash of
emotions even more violent. He wished again he could experience the feelings of
Bertranus’ viewers, even though it would probably kill him. But such ecstasy...

“Com incoming, Cap’n,” said Dyasil.

A window expanded on the viewscreen, revealing the head and
shoulders of a white-haired woman against an elegant background, her dark eyes
and hooked nose resembling those of the stubborn Aegios.

Norio could feel the instant surge of hatred and resentment
that the woman engendered in Hreem. He also sensed unease in the newsman as the
background to the window revealed that the ship was coming about and
accelerating toward the ring of Highdwellings around Malachronte.

The novosti spoke to his viewers. “We now have Lady Vite
Ozman on-line.” He sketched a deference to the screen. “Lady Ozman, thank you
for agreeing to speak to us.”

“I am not sure your role in this affair reflects well on
your character or your organization, genz Bertranus,” she said, her voice
neutral. “Please. You requested an interview?”

Bertranus’s larynx bobbed slightly. “Excuse me,” he said to
the image, and turned to Hreem. “Captain, my relay ship is having difficulty
keeping station. Why are we moving?”

“Tactical reasons,” Hreem replied. “Nothing to worry about.”

The novosti licked his lips, then turned back to the screen.
“I apologize, Lady Ozman.” He looked up at Hreem. “You had some questions for
Lady Ozman, Captain?”

Hreem smiled, and Norio could feel the unleashed cruelty
rising in him. “No questions. I just wanted to see her face.”

The woman’s brows drew together as she considered this, then
she reached toward something under the screen as the novosti stammered, “But,
Captain, you insisted on this contact... ”

“Leave off, you blungesucking nick,” Hreem snarled at the
screen, leaning forward and holding the point of his dagger to Bertranus’
throat. “Cut that connection and this chatzer dies.”

The woman was silent, her face grim. Huge drops of sweat
oozed from the novosti’s forehead as he froze in place.

“Missile armed and ready,” said Pili at Fire Control.

“Captain!” the newsman squeaked. “What are you doing?”

“Target acquired,” continued Pili. “Sync Porphyry, plus-one
spinwise of Ozman, as ordered.” Norio could hear the stress in his voice, and
sense his unease at what he was doing, along with his greater fear of defying
Hreem.

“This is just to convince you, and your chatzing son out in
the Ways, that I mean what I say.”

Just as Hreem spoke, Norio realized the flaw in their plan.
“Captain, wait.” Norio bit his lip, holding back laughter as relief billowed
from the newsman.
So you think I’m going to prevent this, do you?
“I
suggest a change in target.”

Hreem looked at him, frowning.

Norio leaned close. “Consider. Ozman’s oath of fealty will
forbid him to consider his Family first. If he yields, he will be disgraced.”
Norio nodded toward the Douloi woman on the screen. “Do you think she would
hesitate to disown him for such weakness? Or fail to embrace death in the
service of her liege? But if you destroy Sync Ozman now, you take away the
glory and replace it with senseless death. The shock, combined with the threat
to another sync with which he has no familial connection, and thus to which he
actually has stronger obligations—that will weaken him considerably.”

“Virtue as weakness,” Hreem repeated, smiling in delight.

Norio smiled back, shivering with anticipation.

“You have imagers focused on Sync Ozman?” Hreem asked
Bertranus, withdrawing the dagger from his throat.

The man’s lips moved as he communicated with his relay. “We
do now,” he replied, his voice barely audible. Norio watched, fascinated by his
sense of shame for the part he was playing.
Yet he continues.

“Fire Control, retarget,” Hreem ordered. “Sync Ozman.”

Lady Ozman’s Douloi assurance faded. “Captain, I ask you to
spare the innocents of Ozman. I will come to your ship.”

“Target acquired, Sync Ozman.” Pili’s voice was flat.

Hreem stared at the Douloi woman, unspeaking.

“Do you want me to beg for our lives?” she asked.

“No,” he finally replied after a long beat. “I don’t want
you to beg. I want you to die.”

He brought his hand down on the firing pad.

o0o

“... I want you to die.”

Norio watched Ferniar Ozman avidly as Hreem’s image, relayed
by the newsfeed from the inner system twenty light-minutes away, brought his
fist down on the firing pad. The image from the novosti vid switched away to an
exterior view of Sync Ozman: a finger of light reached out from the dragonfly
angularity of the
Flower of Lith
to impact near one end of the habitat.
A brilliant flare of light was followed by a spew of fragments and a billow of
haze from the rupture in the shell of the habitat. Nearby, the deadly
thorn-studded shape of a Rifter frigate hung motionless; beyond it loomed the
fragile immensity of another sync.

“I’ll save you the time of listening to the gabble from the
novosti channels,” said Hreem. “Sync Ozman has about six hours before it goes
chaotic and starts to come apart. You wanna be there for the end, like a good
nick?”

Ferniar Ozman looked out of the viewscreen at them, his
features tight. Norio wished he could feel the man’s emotions. Such a feast of
pain and regret.

Finally the Aegios spoke. “You will give our ship safe
conduct?”

“We’ll exchange ships,” replied Hreem, suggesting an ancient
and well-known protocol for surrender. “Here’s how it will work... ”

The negotiations concluded, Hreem tabbed off the channel and
smirked in triumph at his bridge crew. Some smiled back, others tried to hide
fear or more complex emotions.

“You were generous with him,” Norio said.

“No need to be greedy now.” Hreem grinned. “I get that
luxury yacht—a nice bonus.”

Erbee’s console bleeped. “Emergence pulse, bearing 109 mark
72, plus 2 light-seconds,” shouted the tech.

Hreem jerked upright in his pod and slapped the skip pad.
The fiveskip burred momentarily, compounding Norio’s discomfort at Hreem’s
surge of fear. Unexpected emotions were always hard to deal with.

Moments later Erbee spoke again. “ID established, the
Karra-rahim
.
It’s the Dol’jharians.”

“Beam incoming,” Dyasil put in.

Hreem tensed as the arrogant, deeply seamed features of a
senior Dol’jharian officer windowed up on the screen. “Have you secured the
battlecruiser?” she snapped, without preamble.

The tempath sense Hreem’s anxiety shading into anger at the
woman’s arrogance. “It has been arranged.”

He explained the surrender agreement to the Tarkan, and won
her grudging agreement to wait until Ozman and his people departed before
approaching more closely.

“If you press them, they may decide to go out in a blaze of
glory, for the honor of their oath.”

The officer nodded and cut the connection.

Norio smiled. “Virtue as weakness. The Dol’jharians are much
the same as the Panarchists, with their oaths and loyalties.”

But Hreem pounded softly on his console. “Damn, damn, damn.
If I could’ve gotten on board first... ”

Across the bridge at his console, Riolo tugged again at his
belt, causing his codpiece to wriggle ludicrously. Strangely, instead of the
usual surge of disgust that the Barcan usually engendered in Hreem, Norio
sensed instead a pulse of excitement.

“What is it, Jala, brightness? Have you seen a way out?”

Hreem nodded slowly and got out of the command pod. “Have
Riolo meet me down in the aft bay. I’ve got some questions about the pinnace’s
nav computer.”

o0o

The silvery hull of the battlecruiser loomed immense beside
the two tiny ships fastened lock-to-lock. As the last of the Panarchists
squeezed past him into the
Lith
’s pinnace, Hreem held out his hand to
Ozman.

The Aegios slowly placed a datachip in the Rifter’s palm,
then looked past Hreem at the thorns and spikes of the battlecruiser hull that
formed a wall just outside, blurred by the energies of the electronic lock
field that kept them all breathing. Hreem turned to Norio.

“Guilt and fear,” Norio whispered.

Ozman’s gaze snapped over to him.

“He’s hiding something. I think he left someone behind.”

“Is this all of you?” Hreem demanded.

“There’s one missing,” Ozman admitted, sweat lining his
tense brow. “We couldn’t find him. But he can do nothing—everything’s locked
down, and you have the codes.”

Hreem considered, then shrugged. “He’ll be sorry.”

A few minutes later the two ships drifted apart. The Aegios’
personal yacht, now carrying Hreem and a contingent from the
Lith
, moved
toward the nearest bay of the battlecruiser. The pinnace moved away, slowly
orienting itself for the jump into fivespace.

On the bridge of the yacht the viewscreen showed only the
pinnace, and a portion of the battlecruiser’s hull, looming like the limb of a
planet seen from low orbit. Beyond were only the stars—the
Lith
, in
accordance with their agreement, was on the other side of the cruiser, where it
couldn’t attack the pinnace.

Then Riolo touched a control, and a small targeting cross
blinked into being in the starfield behind the pinnace.

“Any moment now,” the Barcan said. His red-tinted goggles
glinted, reflecting the status lights on the yacht’s console.

The pinnace suddenly yawed about, orienting on the distant
point of light that was the Dol’jharian ship. It began to accelerate.

“They’ve tried to enter fivespace. The program is engaged,”
said Riolo.

Hreem grinned as a green lens on the console lit up. He
reached over and accepted the communication.

“What have you done?” Ferniar Ozman demanded. Behind him
Hreem could seen someone frantically tapping at the nav console.

“You swore an oath,” replied Hreem. “To hold your liege’s
enemies as your own, and your life as his to spend in defense of the Thousand
Suns.” He laughed, barely able to continue at the expression on the face of the
Aegios. “Out there is a ship full of Dol’jharians—the Panarch’s bitter enemies.
I’m just helping you fulfill your oath.”

Hreem paused as Riolo held up three fingers, then two, then
one.

“Good-bye, Ferniar Ozman,” said Hreem.

The pinnace vanished in a pulse of light as its fiveskip
engaged. Four seconds later a dim spark of light indicated the destruction of
the
Karra-rahim
as the little ship’s course intersected its position.

“Good work,” said Hreem, seating himself in the control pod.
“Let’s get on board.”

The complex fittings of the cruiser’s hull slipped out of
sight past the edges of the viewscreen as the little ship moved toward the
immense bay yawning open for them. Hreem could hear Norio’s breath rasping
unevenly in his throat, and he grinned, knowing that his emotions were almost
too hot for the tempath to handle. In truth, he could barely contain them
himself—he’d never before felt such an intense happiness.

The green com light kindled on the console.

“Yeah?”

Dyasil’s face windowed up on the screen. “Dyasil, here,
Cap’n. Erbee says there’s somethin’ goin’ on in the cruiser’s engines, and he
doesn’t like it.”