Scattered Suns (45 page)

Chapter 93—KING PETER

On the day after Daniel’s contrite speech, Basil stood at the doorway of the Royal Wing wearing a cool smile. “Come with me, Peter. This is something you need to see. Consider it part of your continuing education.” Franz Pellidor stood beside him like a well-dressed thug, ready if the King resisted.

Peter frowned at the implied threat. “I prefer OX’s instructional methods. He’s programmed to be a teacher, and he has more memories than he can hold in his head. That counts for a lot of experience, in my book.”

“Since OX allowed Prince Daniel to escape, I have doubts about his abilities as an instructor. This will help you learn about political realities...and consequences.” The Chairman walked briskly down the hall, his dress shoes clicking on the polished stone tiles. He had no doubt that the King would follow.

With another frown, Peter left his private chambers and walked beside Mr. Pellidor. He didn’t even dignify the broad-shouldered man with a glance.

They passed down empty halls and staircases and finally reached a lower-level infirmary chamber that smelled of disinfectants, sterile metal, and chemicals. There, on a hospital bed in the center of the room, lay the pale young Prince Daniel. The boy appeared to be in a coma, hooked up to medical diagnostics. Intravenous lines ran from his arms. His chubby cheeks looked sunken, though Peter had seen him only yesterday.

“What happened? Was there an accident?”

“Oh, no accident—I assure you this was entirely intentional.” Basil stepped forward to touch the intravenous tubes, then leaned over to stare at the false Prince’s closed translucent eyelids. The boy didn’t move or twitch.

“After Daniel’s foolish escapade, the Hansa committee met in an emergency session. We decided unanimously that we can no longer take the risk of further episodes of gross misbehavior. Therefore, we have drugged him. We will keep him in this comatose state, where I can be certain he is under control.” He fixed his gray eyes on Peter. “Too many mistakes have been made recently,
and I will no longer tolerate it.
”

Peter remained silent, letting the long moment draw itself out; it was a technique Basil himself had taught him. He knew exactly how dangerous the Chairman was. Finally, he said, “So why not just kill him?”

“Because he makes a better example this way, don’t you think? I suppose we could always awaken him if it becomes necessary. You see, we could easily do this to you.” Basil straightened and took a step away from the motionless Prince. He asked in a light conversational tone, “Now then, why didn’t you tell me Queen Estarra is pregnant? I’ve known since last Wednesday, but you must have known for at least a month.”

A current of ice water washed down Peter’s spine. He controlled his expression, refused to blurt out a denial. The Chairman wouldn’t have brought up the subject unless he had proof. Peter knew he would do better to see where Basil was going with this.

The Chairman paced the floor of the infirmary room. “The King and Queen are always monitored, Peter. We’ve taken several samples and verified our results. My first inkling came when you both were with me aboard the ship to Ildira. Nuances, slight differences in behavior. You didn’t think I was paying attention...but I always pay attention. We followed up with further tests obtained from your royal quarters.”

Peter remained silent. His mouth was dry, and his skin crawled with the reminder that even in their most private moments the Hansa was spying on them, sampling cells scraped from the royal bedsheets, monitoring Estarra’s menstrual cycle, probably even culling urine samples from the Palace’s plumbing. He found it repulsive.

Basil stepped close to him, very close. Peter had grown taller over the years, but the Chairman still seemed to regard him as little more than a street urchin. “We can’t allow this, you know.”

Trying to be strong, desperately wishing he had sent Estarra to Theroc before anyone had a chance to find out, Peter said, “You’re missing a key advantage, Basil. Imagine the excellent public relations we can get. The people will love it.”

The Chairman didn’t budge. “You miss the fundamental problem here.
I
didn’t give you permission.”

Peter sighed and let his shoulders sag. “You won’t believe this, but I swear we didn’t do it on purpose. It was an accident, a surprise to both of us. Maybe it was nature asserting itself to continue the species in a time of great threat.”

Though Basil appeared outwardly calm, he seemed to carry a thunderstorm inside, a simmering frustration that had been building as each small failure added to previous ones. “Don’t lecture me, Peter. Someday, at a time of
my
choosing, when
I
give you leave, the two of you might be allowed to have a child. But not now. Estarra will simply have to get rid of the fetus before it becomes public knowledge. I’ll have discreet medical specialists visit her shortly.”

Peter stared, trying to quell the anger and horror rising inside him. The Chairman could easily have taken Estarra and forced her to undergo an abortion without any warning at all—instead, he preferred to twist the knife and make absolutely sure the King and Queen knew what he intended to do.

Basil gave Peter a withering look and glanced meaningfully at the pasty-faced, drugged Prince Daniel. “And please don’t insult my abilities by imagining that you could stop me.”

Chapter 94—DOBRO DESIGNATE UDRU’H

Knowing there would be much more difficult conquests in the Horizon Cluster, Rusa’h had dispatched Prime Designate Thor’h with most of the maniple to absorb another Ildiran world into his ever-expanding web.

Meanwhile, one fully armed warliner would be sufficient to crush the small Dobro colony, if Designate Udru’h refused to cooperate. The giant battleship’s weapons could lay waste to the centuries-old settlement and the breeding compound.

Though Udru’h coyly continued to avoid giving a direct answer, Imperator Rusa’h showed little concern when he dispatched the single warliner to Dobro. Apparently he thought the Dobro Designate had no real options. Udru’h had always been practical, and he certainly would not allow Dobro to be destroyed.

The warliner carried a full cargo load of shiing to distribute to the Ildiran population on Dobro. If Udru’h himself did not force the conversion, then he would be slain, and the question would be put to the more malleable Designate-in-waiting Daro’h. If young Daro’h also refused, then he too was expendable. Giving Udru’h any choice in the matter was obviously a mere formality.

Ruling his new
thism
network from the citadel palace, he sent the Dobro Designate back home on the former flagship, with Zan’nh himself still prisoner aboard.

On the voyage to Dobro, the Designate was allowed his freedom aboard the warliner, but it was merely a larger prison. With the Solar Navy crew loyal to Rusa’h, the self-proclaimed Imperator had no worries about what one Designate could do. Once they reached Dobro, none of them doubted that Udru’h would shift his loyalties. Rusa’h claimed to understand his brother all too clearly.

Udru’h strolled down the warliner’s corridors toward the sealed private cabins where the Adar was held captive. Rusa’h had said, “Perhaps on their journey, even the Adar may see the light of reason.” Apparently, forcing him to watch the surrender and conversion of Dobro would be another blow to his resolve.

Udru’h knew he did not have much time.

The Dobro Designate’s expression remained bland as he approached the two husky guard kithmen stationed outside the door with crystal katanas and bristling armor. Unlike Udru’h, the Adar adamantly and vociferously refused to cooperate, and the guards kept him locked up.

The two guards snapped to attention at the Designate’s approach. Facing them, Udru’h used his much-practiced mental skills to mask any stray thoughts, just as a precaution, though these guard kithmen would never have had the prowess to unravel the
thism
connections in his mind. In turn, the converted soldiers were a blank to him, bound together in Rusa’h’s secondary mental network. The Dobro Designate considered that an advantage. They were weaker than he.

He gave them a thin smile. “Your Imperator has instructed me to speak with Zan’nh whenever possible. My brother believes I can wear down the Adar’s resistance to joining your cause.” He pressed closer to them, keeping his thoughts blank. His heart pounded.

Guard kithmen did not question the instructions of a Designate. The two simultaneously clenched their fists and pressed them against their chestplates in salute. Udru’h did not hesitate.

He sprang forward, raising the curved knife hidden in his left fist. He slashed viciously sideways, slicing the throat of the guard on the left, then continuing with a sweep of momentum, until he brought the point of the knife between the second guard’s shoulder plate and collar. He hammered his palm against the pommel, driving the blade home.

The guard with the slashed throat bled profusely. He gasped and coughed and slid to the floor, dying. Even with the knife sticking in his neck, the other guard remained a threat for a few more seconds. The Dobro Designate danced backward, retreating as fast as he could down the hall. Roaring and choking, the second guard staggered after him, grabbing at the knife hilt in his neck.

Udru’h was not a warrior and did not need to be. The poison on the blade was sufficiently fast-acting. It was the same deeply toxic substance that was rumored to have caused the death of Mage-Imperator Cyroc’h.
Ironic
.

As the guard plodded forward, his pace became an uneven stagger. From the expression on his bestial face, Udru’h could sense the poison fires burning through his systems. Maintaining a safe distance, Udru’h slowed. The guard reeled, taking longer than expected to die.

The Designate looked around, anxious lest any other Solar Navy crewmen stumble upon them. He hadn’t expected to cause so much commotion or such a mess. He wondered if the mad Designate Rusa’h, far off on Hyrillka, would sense the violent deaths of his two followers...

Finally, with a last grunt and a heavy clatter, the guard collapsed face-first in the hall, his crystal katana extended forward.

Udru’h had accomplished the first step. He looked at the blood on his hands, the spray pattern on his garments where the crimson had splashed. Though his head rang with lonely emptiness from being so far from his accustomed
thism
network, he kept his thoughts in order. His pulse raced, and he tried to calm himself.

Ildirans have killed Ildirans.
For all his talk about rigidly adhering to the old ways, Imperator Rusa’h had apparently started a new tradition.

Udru’h lifted his stained crystal knife and headed for the chamber where Adar Zan’nh was held.

Chapter 95—ADAR ZAN’NH

The chamber walls were closing in on him. Zan’nh heard footsteps moving down the warliner’s corridors, but he could not sense the crewmen out there. In normal, sane times any Ildiran lived in a current of other lives, bathed in
thism
, buoyed by the existence and support of so many fellows. The passage of a Solar Navy soldier should have caused a ripple discernible even through the sealed door of the cell.

But he felt nothing. Far, far away the dim soul-threads from Mage-Imperator Jora’h faded more and more as the hours dragged on. Zan’nh had battered his knuckles bloody against the walls, but it did no good. He sank into a corner, wiping his hands and staining his Solar Navy uniform. Adar Kori’nh would certainly have chided him for his sloppy appearance. He rested his face in his palms, ground his teeth together, and
held on.

When he heard the commotion in the corridor, Zan’nh lurched to his feet. He crouched in front of the armored door, listening, then backed away. He paused and approached again, ready to spring on anyone who came inside. Now he did sense an echo, a thread of recognizable
thism
coming closer. He didn’t understand.

The locking mechanism clicked, the door slid aside.

Though shaking and weak, Zan’nh lunged. The Dobro Designate stood there, his own garments stained. He held a crystal dagger in one hand, hanging casually at his side. In the moment of surprise, Zan’nh drove him backward, striking a hard blow on the Designate’s wrist. The crystal dagger clattered to the deck plates.

Though startled, Udru’h recovered swiftly and swept his right foot in an arc that knocked the wavering Adar off balance. With a shove, he tumbled Zan’nh to the floor near the fallen dagger. The Adar grabbed for it, closed his hand around the hilt, but the Dobro Designate stepped on his wrist, pressing down with nearly enough force to crack bone. Zan’nh grunted, released the dagger.

“Enough of this nonsense.” The Designate kicked the knife away.

Panting and still sprawled on the deck, Zan’nh finally looked out into the corridor beyond his cell. His wild eyes drank in the unexpected scene: the murdered guard lying in a pool of blood outside his door, the other guard facedown farther down the corridor. He stared up at the spattered and sweating Designate who loomed over him. Zan’nh’s voice was raspy and rough. “What is this? You...you have killed Ildirans!”

The Dobro Designate paused another second before lifting his foot from the Adar’s wrist. He stepped back, regaining his composure. “Rusa’h isn’t the only one who can take extreme measures. Think of all the Ildirans he has killed.” He sounded bland and matter-of-fact. “If we are not willing to do unpleasant work, then Rusa’h and his lunatic rebellion will succeed. I have always done what was necessary, and I have always served the Ildiran Empire.” He looked with disdain at the Adar, then offered his hand to pull Zan’nh to his feet. “Come with me if you want a chance to end this revolt.”

Zan’nh hesitated for a moment, emotions storming through his mind. Then he nodded, frantic for a way out of the chamber, off of this warliner. After his failed bargain to surrender his vessels, he was ready to destroy this ship rather than let it be used to continue spreading Rusa’h’s corruption.

“Though I may eventually be damned for it in the
Saga,
I agree with you.” Zan’nh lowered his voice. “If I had been willing to do what was necessary, we would not be in such a grim situation. Adar Kori’nh would never have let it come to this.”

He followed his uncle out into the too-quiet corridor. Businesslike, the Dobro Designate leaned over the nearer dead guard. Without hesitating, he grasped the armored shoulders and began to drag the heavy soldier toward the open prison cell. “Help me hide these corpses and clean up. That will buy us time.”

Blood-sticky hands did not seem to bother the Dobro Designate, but Zan’nh stood staring aghast at the two slaughtered guards. As uniformed Solar Navy warriors, these two had been members of his own crew before their forced conversion. Then he remembered all of his own loyal crewmen who had died as hostages to Rusa’h, murdered one by one until Zan’nh had surrendered his ships. His heart grew cold. He already had blood on his hands. These two guards were casualties of a civil war, and they were less innocent than those other victims had been.

Stronger now, Zan’nh grabbed the second guard, and soon both corpses were sealed behind the door. They used part of one of the dead guards’ uniforms to wipe the worst of the bloodstains off the deck, so that no casual passerby would notice the marks. Breathless, they stood together in the corridor.

Though full of corrupted Solar Navy crewmen, the Ildiran battleship was nearly silent in the
thism
. Zan’nh felt only the connection from the Dobro Designate, whom he still did not entirely trust. “So there are only two of us aboard this entire warliner. Do we have a plan?”

Udru’h raised his eyebrows, somewhat amused. “I have already completed my part of the plan, Adar. I freed you. Now I rely on your knowledge of the Solar Navy, and this warliner in particular. The next step is up to you.”