Starhold (24 page)

Suddenly, there were several anxious looking people in the room. Dr. Devi looked around at all the Bakkoans, as if to reassure them.

“It was the truth. There is one survivor of the
Theodora
,” Devi said, and Carr nodded back. “Now, I have to be going.”

Vesna stood up. “Dezrin and I will see you out, Doctor. Dez honey, come along.”

As the three women left the kitchen, Sanchez and Mumphrey glanced at each other. “All right,” said Sanchez, “it seems like Mumphrey and I are the only ones in the dark. What is it?”

“Yes, tell us, Carr,” said the older woman earnestly. “If there’s a survivor, who is it? Where are they?”

He looked at Korab for approval to proceed and the Underground leader gave him a nod of the head. “Remember,” said Carr, “people sometimes change their appearance, especially if they’re trying to hide, or be hidden by someone else.”

“Dezrin,” guessed Mumphrey. “It’s always struck me that her hair was just, I don’t know—an odd shade of black. Plus, she just turned up months ago.”

Carr looked at Sanchez, who still seemed to be catching up. “Imagine her with flaming red hair.”

“Oh, Gods,” said Sanchez, “Dezrin is the pilot, Dandi—what’s her name—Quinn, Dandi Quinn.”

“We don’t have a lot of people in Bakkoa with hair that red,” offered Sandu. “Vesna whipped up some homemade hair dye. It does the job.”

Korab got up for a drink of water. “Doctor Devi brought her to Vesna and me, begged us to take her in. The others on that crew died, or were murdered by the greenshirts. Dezrin had been, um, abused, by some of the guards.”

“The bastards raped her,” Sandu spit out bitterly. “Let’s not dress it up in phony words.”

Korab continued. “The Doc said it messed her up in the head. She’s kinda like a little child now, but she seems happy enough with us. I’m glad we took her in. I mean, what else could we do?”

“You could have said no,” observed Mumphrey.

“No, Vesna and I couldn’t turn away someone who was that much in need. Little brother Sandu here is adopted, and my boy Marton is too. It don’t matter to me—they’re flesh and blood now, and so is Dezrin.”

So there would be no rescue of Misaki Genda and the others. If Sheel and his people prevailed, the
Theodora’s
crew wouldn’t be the last ones to suffer—the entire Renaissance Sector was at risk. It fatigued Carr to think about it, and he was already tired from their early morning exploits. “Korab, we haven’t had much sleep in a while. Is there a place Sanchez and I could catch a few hours rest?”

“Sure, Sandu will show you.”

“And this evening,” Carr continued, “would you or some of your people be willing to help the three of us get back to our ship?”

Korab didn’t answer immediately. He looked like he was studying—not the question, but studying Carr, the man. “I understand your people have a war fleet coming. Tell me true, are your people a danger to mine? Should I help you?”

“I don’t know what’s in the heart of my leaders, Korab, but I think we both know what’s in Governor Sheel’s heart. If he isn’t stopped here, you’ll be right back to fighting an empire—his empire. It seems to me we have common ground.”

Korab glanced around at Sandu, Voss, and Vesna, who had returned with Dezrin. There was a long silence as his gaze drifted to Dezrin and fixed on her. The men saw their leader’s expression and seemed to understand. Anyone who could do what was done to this young woman, any leader who could sanction the torture and death that befell her crewmates… Sheel had to be stopped. For the good of Bakkoa, Sheel and his brutes had to be shut down.

“You rest up,” said Korab. “We’ll be ready to go when it gets dark.”

Sandu led Carr and Sanchez to an extra room that had two cots. Much to their pleasure, there was also a bathroom across the hall with a shower. After cleaning up, the two got about five hours sleep, eventually awakened by a gentle knock on the door. It was Inspector Mumphrey.

As Sanchez opened the door, Mumphrey stood there with her index finger over her lips in a ‘shush’ gesture. “I need both of you to come with me right now and we need to be quiet about it.”

24: Fiction

Sol System

Near Planet Mars

Task Force 19 took form at their designated translation coordinates about thirty thousand klicks from Mars, closer to one of the Red Planet’s two moons, Phobos. There were fifteen vessels wearing the gold and blue ‘Sarissan Sun’ roundels of the Union painted upon their hulls. As the spacers and their machines shook free from the daze of translation to realspace, a picture of the Sol system formed.

“Report.”

On the flag bridge of the
Vespera
, Commander Mohr shook the last of the cobwebs out of her head, trying to comply with the admiral’s order.

“CIC updating now, sir. The entire fleet has made translation with all ships reporting green.
Amista
and
Kanno
are getting under way for Jupiter.” The two lumbering tankers were off to the gas giant to harvest more fuel for the fleet, and to stay out of harm’s way.

“Admiral, are you seeing what I’m seeing?” asked Julius Kingwell. Projected onto the flag bridge as a hologram, the captain ‘sat’ just to the right of Admiral Getchell. In turn, a holographic Getchell sat next to Kingwell, one deck above on the
Vespera’s
bridge.

“I see it,” grumbled Getchell.

“What are the Gerrhans doing all the way out there?” asked Commander Mohr. “They’re nearly to Saturn.”

Another staffer spoke up. “Admiral, we have a bandit force on an intercept vector to the Gerrhan fleet. Estimate seventeen hostiles, speed at—sir, speed at one-hundred forty percent of I-drive.”

Captain Kingwell gave out a low whistle of admiration while Mohr made some quick calculations. “At that rate, it will take the hostiles approximately three standard hours to reach the Gerrhans.”

“And how long before our arrival is seen by that enemy force?” asked the Admiral.

“Forty-five minutes, sir.”

Getchell nodded. “What do we have in the vicinity of Earth?”

A large display appeared giving the disposition of enemy forces near the Blue Planet. “Three enemy vessels are standing guard on this orbital, which CIC has ID’d as a shipyard. Our problem however, is right here,” Mohr said, and highlighted a portion of the graphic.

“Why would you build two space stations that close to each other?” asked Kingwell.

“Julius, I’m afraid the Commander is going to tell us that one of those isn’t a space station.”

“Correct, Admiral. The highlighted icon is a vessel, well over four times larger than
Vespera
. It seems to be getting under way, putting some distance between itself and the station.”

Kingwell crossed his arms and leaned back in his command chair. “So, now we know why the Gerrhans entered the system so far out. They’re leaving the dirty work to us. What do you think, Admiral?”

“I think we can make this work. The bulk of the enemy force is committed to engaging the Gerrhan fleet and those other three ships are tied down defending their shipyard. Clearly, their flag will be aboard that big ship. Comm, I want to send a message to that ship.”

“Actually sir, we’re receiving a message from them.”

“Let me see it.”

A severe looking man appeared on screen. “This is Fleetmaster Haldryn of the…” The man stopped for a moment, unsure of what to say next. “…of the New Rhuzari Empire. I speak to you from my flagship, the
Imperial Wrath
. Your advanced scouts have been captured. We know who you are, and why you are here. I am not interested in diplomacy, unless it is to surrender your ships, planets, and peoples to our rule. In time, all of you will submit to our authority. You and your crews will have the privilege of being the first to do so. There are no terms—surrender will be unconditional and immediate. Haldryn out.”

Getchell and Kingwell looked at each other. “My, my,” said the captain, “what an unpleasant man.”

Admiral Getchell grunted in agreement. “So much for the diplomatic card. Captain Kingwell, move the fleet into battle formation Sierra One and take us straight for that pompous windbag.”

* * * *

Bakkoa, Earth

Near sundown, Korab, Sandu, and Voss had gathered in the garage of the meat processing plant. They had readied two vehicles to take Carr, Sanchez, and Mumphrey out of the settlement under the cover of darkness to their ship. The only thing missing were the Sarissans themselves.

As the three outsiders finally entered the garage, Carr walked straight to Korab.

“Carr, I have a squad of people meeting us at Denlora’s home. We’ll stop and pick them up on the way out of town.”

“We have a problem,” said Carr, wearing a troubled expression.

“What is it?”

Carr nodded to Mumphrey, who stepped forward. “A few days ago, I noticed Dezrin holding this in her hand,” began the Inspector. She held out a small, oval shaped piece of silver. “It took a bit of doing to get her to talk, but eventually she told me she’d found it on the floor. She said she liked it because it was shiny and pretty.”

Korab took the object from Mumphrey’s hand. “It’s called a nephka. It’s money—we used them back on Rhuzar. She must have found a stray one somewheres. Nobody uses ‘em much here in the colony.”

“We use colonial credit chits—they’re paper,” Sandu added, as Korab passed the coin to him.

Voss scrunched his face. “Here now, what’s this all about?”

“I asked Dezrin to take me to where she found that coin,” continued Mumphrey. “I looked around for several days, discreetly of course. Well, this afternoon, I finally found what I was looking for. In the small tool room, there’s a secret compartment in the wall, behind one of the workbenches. It contains an entire bag of these coins—I’m sure it’s quite a lot of money.”

Voss was becoming more upset. “What gives you the right to snoop around? We take you in, help you out, and this is how you behave?”

“Wait, wait,” interrupted Korab. “You tellin’ me you found a stash of nephkas in the wall of the tool room? That’s just plain weird.”

Carr spoke up. “Korab, it gets weirder. There’s a large compartment behind that wall, it runs into the back of a storage room next door. We found more than just the coins—we found a bomb.”

“Someone here’s not on your team, Korab,” said Sanchez. “They’re probably working for Governor Sheel.”

“No one here’s working for Governor Sheel,” said Sandu, stepping back from the group, “but it’s like you said a few minutes ago, Carr—you do have a problem.” Korab’s brother produced a pistol from his pocket and pointed it at the group. “We’re not working for Sheel. The money and the bomb came from Fleetmaster Haldryn. You see, the military, they’re real sharp, especially that Captain Balasi. They learned more about the Underground in a few days than Sheel’s goons found out in a year.”

“You just said ‘we,’ didn’t you?” asked Mumphrey. “You have an ally here?”

“Lornec,” spat out Voss.

Sandu nodded to confirm Voss’s guess. “Lornec and I are going to use that bomb to blow up the Government Compound. Haldryn gets rid of the colonial government and the blame goes on the Underground, which will give the military plenty of reason to get rid of you lot. Two birds with one stone. The military takes control and I come out rich and with a position in the new regime.”

Korab was dumbfounded. He just stood there, searching for words as he stared at the gun in Sandu’s hand. “What are you talking about? You can’t kill all those people, that’s not what we’re all about.”

“Correction, big brother—that’s not what
you’re
about. We’ve pissed around for years because you won’t do what needs to be done. Sheel and his gang deserve it, every last one of them, even Devi.”

Korab looked into Sandu’s eyes and for the first time saw them for what they really were: dark and cold. “I just can’t believe it—it’s like some bad nightmare. You mean to say that you’d sell us all out. You’d sell out your own family, your own brother?”

“You’re
not
my brother!” shouted Sandu, showing the first real sign of emotion. “I was adopted, remember? Sure you do, you’re always so keen to point it out to everyone. ‘My adopted brother, but I love him like he was my own flesh and blood.’ I’m sick to death of being reminded that I’m only part of the family because your parents decided to take in a stray, and I’m sick of living in your shadow and walking one-step behind. I do this job and Haldryn will make me wealthy and powerful. That bag of money is just a down payment.”

“You start firing that gun and the noise is going to attract attention,” pointed out Carr.

“Plasma pistols aren’t that noisy, and besides, the workers are gone for the day.”

“Carr’s right, Sandu,” pleaded Mumphrey. “Nobody’s been hurt yet. It’s not too late to change direction.”

“Of course it’s too late, you meddling old cow. This would have gone off without a hitch if you hadn’t been snooping around.” Sandu fired his gun and a plasma charge ripped through Mumphrey’s shoulder. As she dropped to the floor, the three men rushed Sandu, who got off another shot. Voss tumbled, reaching for his right thigh.

Sandu pulled the trigger again, but this blast went wide as Korab and Carr were on him. The pair drove him down and the butcher used his leg to pin his brother’s right arm to the floor. As Carr restrained the traitor against the ground, Korab wrestled the gun away from him. The two men flipped Sandu over, face down on the floor, and Korab took off his belt, using it to tie his brother’s hands behind his back. Sandu cursed his brother and struggled, to no avail.

Carr turned back to Voss, who was on the floor but sitting upright. “It’s not bad,” groaned the big man. “Go help Mumphrey.”

Sanchez cradled the Inspector in her arms. A pool of blood formed on the garage floor as Carr rushed to their side. “C’mon old girl, hang in there,” he said. “That was some pretty fancy detective work, flushing out the culprit like that.”

Mumphrey looked up at him and forced a smile.

25: Discord

Wohlford House

Esterkeep

The office and residence of the Prime Minister was bigger on the inside than it seemed from the outside. Wohlford House was attached to two houses on either side of it. When the position of Prime Minister was created after the People’s Rebellion, all three buildings were appropriated by the government and joined together as one large structure for the PM’s office and residence. The focus of public attention was always on Koenig Manor, but the lifeblood of the government flowed through Wohlford.

As she worked in her office, Renata Darracott drifted in thought, thinking of this place, her home. She had worked hard to make the upstairs living quarters her own and not some glorified version of a hotel suite. Her office was more like a study than a place of work. It was an inviting room for visitors and, most importantly, a comfortable place for her.

That would all be changing soon. The Directorate would meet within the week to select a new First Consul. Even retaining her position as Prime Minister was doubtful. New bosses liked to bring in their own people, just as Victor had done with her. Chances were her days at Wohlford House were numbered, most probably in single digits.

Three days had passed since the failed coup. The government was safe, for the moment. There was still no sign of the traitor Brin Choi, but there were no indications of further intrigue. The plot had failed and that seemed to be that. If a few things had happened differently here and there, the Union might have been mired in a full-scale civil war. All in all, they got off lucky.

Still, so much harm had been done. The final death count was thirty-seven, both on the ground and in space. Gone were Stormy Weathers, Lieutenant Nash, Commodore Epstein, Marines, spacers, even two civilians who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time up on Presidio Station. And of course, the most important person in her life was gone as well. Her leader, her patron, her lover, and her friend, Victor Polanco was dead. Checking over the plans for Esterkeep’s first state funeral in over two decades, she found it impossible to concentrate.

The knock at the door jolted her out of her trance. It was her assistant, Grace Ward, announcing that Admiral Sanchez was here to see her.
Good, anything to escape this gloom.
On second thought, maybe it wasn’t good because unscheduled meetings rarely carried pleasant news.

For a short while, Leonardo Sanchez brightened her mood. They went through the social niceties, inquiring after each other’s health and such. After a few minutes however, Darracott could see that there was a problem.

“Leo, you’d make the worst poker player in the Six Worlds. Worry is written all over your face and in bold print. Out with it.”

Sanchez closed his eyes for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “Where to start?” he finally asked. “First off, Captain Banks came to me yesterday. He’ll stay on at State Security until he’s relieved, but then he’s asking to be reassigned from his duties here in Esterkeep.” Sanchez paused, and then added, “You realize that Auric’s not exactly your biggest fan.”

“Asking to be reassigned? Why put in that kind of request? A new First Consul will most probably appoint someone else Chief of Staff anyway.”

“Banks has excellent connections at Central Command,” said Sanchez, nervously tapping the arm of his chair with his right hand. “He hears things, things I don’t. Apparently, Channa Maxon’s been on the net, working the flag officers from her hospital bed since last night. She’s lining up support for the Consulship.”

Darracott rolled her eyes. “She was just stabbed three days ago!”

“Choi had bad aim—she missed all the vitals.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that Channa’s doing well. Damn, she must really want the Consulship badly if she’s lobbying from her hospital bed.”

Sanchez shook his head and leaned forward. “She’s not lobbying for herself.”

Darracott froze, trying to read that bold print she claimed was on her friend’s face. “For who then?”

“You.”

“Me? Why me? Won’t the admirals choose one of their own?”

“Rumor has it that some rich and powerful civilians are calling for John McDaniel to return.” McDaniel was the elected President who was deposed during the People’s Rebellion. Banished from the Union by Victor Polanco, he had been living quietly in exile on Gerrha for the past twenty months. “A second coup attempt within two years has some of the rich civvies reconsidering their support for the military. Maxon’s thinking that if a civilian leads the Directorate, it would ease their minds, and the pressure to bring back McDaniel.”

The Prime Minister put a crooked smile on her face. “So they want a civilian puppet.”

“Not necessarily,” he countered. “Anyone who knows you understands you wouldn’t settle for being a puppet. I think they want a strong civilian leader who will keep the military in a dominant position.”

There was silence from Darracott. She had toyed in the back of her mind with the idea that she might have an opportunity to remain as the Union’s leader but never thought there was a serious chance of pulling it off.
Leo would know what was going on. There’s something else though… He’s very nervous.

“I’ll have to think about this, but I’d be lying to you if I said I wasn’t interested. Thanks for the heads up. But, something else is bothering you. Come on, Leo, what is it?”

Sanchez leaned back in his chair and crossed his hands. “Since you are most likely going to remain as First Consul, I just wanted to let you know that I’ve decided to resign my commission. I’m going to retire.”

She was stunned. “Retire? Why? What’s happened?”

“Rennie, the last few days have happened. Victor’s assassination, Amanda Nash… just everything. I’ll stay on for the next month, get my successor squared away, but after that, I’m going home to Quijano and retire to my ranch.”

“You have a ranch? Sorry Leo, but somehow I can’t picture you as a cowboy.”

The remark provoked laughter from him.
There’s still something else, something’s he’s not saying.

“One of my nephews operates it for me. As for myself, I’ll sit under a tree near the house, sip sangria, and read a good book. That’s my idea of ranching.”

“And I can’t talk you out of this? I thought maybe you’d be in the running for First Consul yourself.”

He shook his head vigorously. “I have absolutely no interest in politics. No, my mind is made up.”

“It won’t be the same around here without you. I’m going to miss you, my friend. So, who is your recommendation to be the new Chief of Space Operations? As the current Assistant CSO, I would think that Admiral Carson is the heir apparent. You know, the other day was the first time I’d ever met the man. He looks so young, more like a college student than an admiral.”

“Just between us, I’m sure he takes those aging treatments—doesn’t want to grow old gracefully like me,” joked Sanchez. “But yes, he is young to be an admiral. Carson, Maxon, Choi, Sykes, they’re all young to be admirals, but when the time came, they were the lot that helped Victor Polanco take power. After the coup, he purged Central Command and promoted them into their current positions.

“Rennie, this is a very important appointment. Even though I was Chief of Space Operations, everyone knew Victor Polanco was the leader of the space force. When you appoint the next CSO, they actually
will
be in command of the space force. You need to be careful with this appointment. It should be Jon Schooler, he’s the one you want for this job.”

“So not Admiral Carson. What about Channa Maxon? What’s wrong with Maxon?” she prodded.

Sanchez shrugged his shoulders and sighed. “Maxon was Victor’s idea.”

“I was Victor’s idea, too.”

“Yes—yes, I know.”

The remark probably wasn’t meant to be biting, but there was a certain something in it that caused the room to chill.

“Leo, may I ask you something? When Maxon asked who you supported for the Consulship, what did you tell her?”

Sanchez shifted in his chair but never broke eye contact with her. “Frankly, I told her that I thought we should have a Union-wide election.” The gloves had come off. “I believe we should reinstate the Union Assembly and the Presidency.” He was speaking faster now, with the urgency of a man who had something to get off his chest. “And Rennie, I urge you, I beg of you to say the same thing when the Directorate offers you the Consulship. Turn them down and make them see the wisdom of reinstating the Presidential system.”

This conversation was like an earthquake—the shocks and tremors just kept coming. Leo Sanchez was an intelligent man, and he clearly had his reasons for shifting his views. She tried not to take it personally, but still…

“Leo, that system was broken so badly it wouldn’t work anymore.”

“Granted, it was broken, but we shouldn’t have thrown it away. We just needed to fix it. Call it a reset, a reboot of Sarissan democracy.”

He leaned forward again, hands together almost as if he was saying a prayer, and maybe he was. “Rennie, I’m alive today because Amanda Nash is dead. You’re here because Stormy Weathers isn’t. And there’s Victor, and all the others. All of those people died because someone tried to change the government by using bullets instead of ballots. Tell me, is the Directorate worth that price? If so, then how long until the next coup attempt? And the one after that? No,” he shook his head forcefully, “we’ve got to go back. We’ve got to reinstate the electoral system.”

She sat for a moment, peering into his eyes. “Leo, you’ve been through a lot in the last seventy-two hours. We’ve all been through a lot,” Darracott said, carefully choosing her words, “but you should blame Choi and Seibert and the other conspirators for the violence, not the Directorate. The Directorate works. It’s efficient and things get done under the Directorate that wouldn’t under a democratic system.”

“Things get done,” he said slowly, drawing out the three words for emphasis. “You mean things like the killings yesterday at the Central Holding Facility. I heard all about it.”

She felt her face burn but wasn’t sure why—was she angry or embarrassed? “I offered Seibert and the others a choice.”

“Commit suicide or you and your family will be executed? That’s no choice,” Sanchez said crossly. “In a civilized society, there has to be due process.”

“It was more of a choice than they offered Victor or your Lieutenant Nash. Where was their due process, Leo?” She knew she should stop at that, but anger compelled her to press on. “Besides, Admiral, don’t pretend like your hands are totally clean. After the People’s Rebellion, Victor removed the entire Union Assembly and a quarter of the officer corps, along with their families and a great many of their friends. Thousands of people were purged, and you had a part in it.”

Sanchez bobbed his head excitedly. “Yes, yes, purged and exiled.
Exiled,
Rennie, not summarily executed.”

“They might as well have been. Victor sent them off to horrible places like Threnn and Cardea, and other starholds where they became refugees. Their lives were ruined.”

“Ha! Most of them were rich refugees, I might add. Besides, I don’t remember the new Prime Minister registering any objections at the time,” Sanchez snapped. “The army did most of the forced removals. All I did was to arrange for the transportation. Victor wanted it that way.”

“So you were only following orders,” Darracott scoffed.

The admiral tried to keep his composure. “Look, what you did to Seibert and the others, I understand why you did it. You wanted revenge and so did I, but a trial in a court of law would have accomplished the same thing.”

“No, it would have accomplished something else entirely. A trial would have given those bastards a platform for their cause. It would have let them justify what they had done, and I wasn’t about to let that happen. What’s wrong with you, Leo? Are you upset because I didn’t consult with you first? Or is it because I didn’t bring you along with me to the prison?”

“You didn’t bring me along because you knew I might talk you out of it.”

“I didn’t bring you along because I knew you wouldn’t have the stomach for it!”

Sanchez sat for a moment in silence.

Darracott stammered, searching for something to say. “Leo, um, I didn’t…”

Sanchez gathered himself and stood, almost at attention. “My written resignation is in your message box. I will attend to my duties for the next month and recuse myself from further Directorate meetings. Good day, First Consul.”

As he turned to leave, Darracott got to her feet. Her friend walked to the door, the limp in his gait more pronounced than usual. “Leo, don’t go like this. I said things I really didn’t mean to say. I chose my words poorly. Leo…”

The door closed behind him. Darracott stood for a moment and surveyed her desk. She picked up the datatab on which she’d been working before Sanchez arrived. Details of the state funeral jumped onto the screen. Looking at the door once again and then back down to the datatab, she screamed in anger and threw the device against the wall.