Imperial Night (Ashes of Empire, #3)

by Imperial Night (epub)

  “He got two terms,” Loxias said. “I’m sure she wasn’t stumping for him both times.”

  “A politician who doesn’t trip over his own feet generally gets re-elected around here, Friar. Voters by and large are rather lazy and would rather not take the time to scrutinize candidates. They operate under the principle that the devil you know is always more attractive than the one you don’t. It’s among the reasons why we have term limits, one of the few things Morane pushed for that I like. In any case, it was a pleasure meeting you. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  With that, Arko wandered off and joined a small cluster of senatorial candidates by the windows. After pointing at a buffet table covered with finger food and groaning under the weight of countless alcohol bottles, Hecht joined him.

  “There’s a man who didn’t leave public life voluntarily,” Stearn murmured, “which explains his dislike of Morane.”

  Loxias nodded.

  “Yes. I daresay Viktor Arko was hoping he’d replace Yakin only to see his ambitions thwarted by Morane’s popularity. Offering himself up for nomination now and erasing Morane’s legacy would be a fitting revenge.”

  As they helped themselves to the buffet, Stearn opened his third eye and reached out for Arko’s mind, hoping he’d find someone as malleable as Loxias and the preferred senatorial candidates, people susceptible to his influence. But he didn’t enter it for fear of triggering a reaction. Best to study the inner man from a distance first.

  Arko’s mind seemed as calm and self-possessed as the man appeared to the naked eye. Yet, it also felt hard, brittle, with little depth, much like Gerson Hecht or some of the Supermax inmates on Changu Island, those whom Amelia called soulless. It was a strange thing for a medical doctor and philanthropist. However, of greater interest was the fact he showed no evidence of mental shields. It meant he could touch Arko’s mind.

  “What chances do you give him?” Stearn asked his nominal superior.

  “Fairly good, I’d say. He’s a well-known quantity even among incumbent senators, and he has more charisma than Charis Sandino, the only other serious contender. Should he become president, we’ll have a friend and ally at the very heart of Government House.”

  Stearn snorted softly. “Friend? No. He doesn’t strike me as a man who has friends, although he most certainly can make people think otherwise.”

  Loxias gave him a strange look. “What do you mean?”

  “I would venture that while Viktor Arko is a talented actor, a good manipulator, and a highly intelligent man, he cares little for others.”

  “You peeked at his mind.”

  “Yes, and if you believe there is such a thing as a soul, then I’m afraid I didn’t find one. That doesn’t make him evil. It merely means any empathy he shows will be feigned. He’ll be our ally as long as we’re useful, but never our friend. If he praised the Brethren during his tenure as Health Secretary, it wasn’t because of friendly feelings.”

  Loxias chuckled. “One might almost think Marta trained you as a counselor. Well done. Now we must figure out how we make ourselves useful to the future President Arko in ways that transcend the Order’s usual good works for the community.”

  “I can think of a few ways which don’t necessarily involve divulging too much about my abilities. But this is neither the time nor the place.”

  “Of course.”

  Stearn waved his wine glass toward the other guests. “Shall we mingle?”

  **

  “As expected, reaction to your laying out what would happen in case of a barbarian incursion that reaches Lyonesse orbit has been mixed,” Morane’s public affairs director said after taking a seat in front of the presidential desk. “The majority consensus is in favor of strong action to save lives, though with concern about how long you’ll suspend civil liberties. But a surprising number of people find the administration’s plans objectionable, fearing a permanent loss of freedom which would transform the republic into a miniature version of the Ruggero dynasty’s empire.”

  “Even though I made it clear the law prevented me from imposing emergency conditions longer than thirty days without a two-thirds approval by the senate.” He shook his head. “Wasn’t I explicit enough in stating I won’t even consider prolonging it beyond what’s necessary under the circumstances, which might be a few days at most?”

  “Either the objectors don’t trust you, or they didn’t listen, never mind read the notification we sent every citizen afterward. More interesting are the prominent people among the objectors who decry a further militarization of the republic, such as former Health Secretary Viktor Arko.”

  Morane sat up. “Arko? He hasn’t voiced an opinion in almost twelve years.”

  “True, but word on the street is that he’s shown interest in presenting himself as a candidate for the presidency once your administration stands down after the elections.”

  Morane cocked an eyebrow. “Does word on the street give him favorable odds?”

  “Too early to tell, Mister President. Viktor Arko only waded into the electoral discussion in the last twenty-four hours.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No, sir. The written report will be on your reader by now.”

  “Thank you, Marc.”

  The public affairs director rose, dipped his shaved head, turned on his heels, then left the presidential office.

  Morane swiveled his chair around and gazed out the window at the back lawn and the Haven River’s broad, lazy expanse beyond it. If truth be told, he was looking forward to retiring as president after twelve years and doing something else. His tolerance for idiots was dramatically decreasing as his second term wore on, and he was encountering an ever-growing number of them. Standing up a Command and Staff College for the Defense Force was just the ticket for a satisfying life after politics, one which would still serve the republic for many more years.

  If only he could finish his time as president without further incident.

  — 44 —

  ––––––––

  “Stearn, Loxias, good day. Please come in.” Gerson Hecht’s welcoming smile didn’t extend to his watchful eyes as he greeted the friars at the entrance of the private club in downtown Lannion where he’d assembled the senatorial candidates he and his faction supported. Their role was cheering when Arko officially announced he would accept a nomination as president from the next senate. “Viktor isn’t here yet, but we expect him momentarily.”

  They quickly exchanged greetings with each of the attendees, then Hecht’s amplified voice smothered dozens of low-key conversations.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the man who we hope to call Mister President after the upcoming elections, Viktor Arko.”

  Enthusiastic applause broke out when Arko strode across the low stage, smiling and nodding as if he considered the plaudits his due. He stopped to face the audience and waited until a rapt silence settled over the room.

  “My friends, thank you for the warm welcome. How about we get the formalities over with and then chat about what’s going on in our beloved republic these days, yes?” He paused when a chorus of ‘yeas’ erupted from the crowd. “Let’s do this. I, Viktor Arko, hereby propose myself as nominee once the next senate convenes and elects a new president.”

  Roars of approval underscored by applause even more exuberant than before greeted his announcement. After almost two minutes by Stearn’s inner clock, Arko raised both arms, and the noise quickly faded away. During that time, the friar let his mind brush those of the people around him, and he tasted energy, ambition, eagerness, and warm regard for the man on the stage.

  “I need not tell you about my qualifications for the highest office in the republic, nor go on at length about my achievements. Everything is public knowledge, and you’ll agree I’m as good a candidate as President Morane’s heir presumptive and the current favorite for the presidency, Charis Sandino. But Cha
ris and I don’t hold the same views, nor do we espouse the same philosophies, and therefore the next senate must choose wisely. Charis will continue in the same vein as Jonas Morane and Elenia Yakin. She’ll espouse a militaristic republic focused on building a mighty faster-than-light warship fleet. Under her leadership, Lyonesse will become an impregnable autarky, closed to the rest of humanity. She’ll keep our most precious jewel, the Knowledge Vault, under military control rather than hand this legacy over to the people.”

  Stearn reached out mentally and filled what passed for Arko’s soul with a feeling of love and respect for the Order, though he knew violating another’s inner being in such a manner would come at a cost.

  “And she will keep some of our most valuable citizens from participating fully in the republic’s political life. I speak of our friends the Void Brethren.” Arko made a sweeping arm gesture toward Stearn and Loxias as he beamed. “No, we cannot allow the republic to continue as before. Especially now that President Morane has made his intentions clear by announcing he would impose martial law if ever intruders came within sublight distance of Lyonesse. Does anyone doubt Charis Sandino will keep that same policy in place if she succeeds him? Make no mistake, the mere act of considering martial law endangers our hard-won liberties. We don’t want to become a new empire in all but name, do we?”

  Shouts of ‘no’ filled the air.

  “Then let us pray no intruders, real or imagined, show up between now and when the next senate votes for change in a few short weeks. I know Jonas Morane and Charis Sandino are honorable and want nothing but the best for the republic, but the allure of power is irresistible, which is why our constitution wisely sets inviolable term limits. Yet those limits can be ignored if parts of the constitution are suspended during a state of emergency and we know human history is replete with endless emergencies kept alive purely for political motives and not the welfare of the citizenry. If I become president, I will see our constitution is amended so an administration can no longer declare martial law without the consent of the senate.”

  More cheering and applause followed his declaration, and Stearn opened his mind so he could drink up the energy of several hundred people united by a fiery orator. Arko must become the next president. There was no other choice. Only through him would the Order of the Void take its rightful place within the republic.

  When the inevitable dreams struck Stearn that night, he tried once again to harness them instead of fighting back. He wanted their energy so he could fill his depleted reserves after expending so much on strengthening Arko’s appreciation of the Order. He knew he still faced plenty of work to make it a permanent fixture in the mind of a man with little empathy. Yet welcoming the nightmares as a source of strength proved difficult, and it left him disoriented for hours, unsure of what was real and what was a figment of his tortured soul.

  **

  “I find your trust in Jonas Morane’s integrity disturbing, Loxias. Power corrupts, and he’s been president for twelve years. Before that, he held sway over the Defense Force as chief of staff and Defense Secretary. This is a man who has bathed in barely constrained power for decades. He won’t let a crisis go to waste. Viktor Arko said as much last week.”

  The chief administrator shook his head as he sighed in exasperation.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you suffer from monomania. Jonas Morane has never acted in anything other than an honorable manner in the years I’ve lived on Lyonesse. He will most certainly not impose martial law on account of a non-existent barbarian incursion so he can cancel the upcoming elections and make himself president for life. If he invokes emergency powers, it’ll be only for as long as necessary to preserve the lives of our fellow citizens from the ravages of the Barbarian Plague.”

  Stearn stood and began pacing Loxias’ office, hands clasped behind his back. To the older friar’s eyes, he seemed unusually agitated.

  “Something is about to go very wrong. I can feel it. If we don’t act, we might lose everything we worked for over the last year.”

  “Sit, Stearn. Your behavior is unbecoming a trained friar, and it’s affecting my serenity.”

  The younger man stopped and gave his elder an incredulous stare. “Serenity? You’ve not enjoyed a serene day during our entire acquaintanceship. Someone grasping for power instead of living in the present doesn’t even know the meaning of the word.”

  “You forget yourself, Stearn.”

  “No. I’m the only one who remembers what is right. What our goals are.” Defiance replaced incredulity. “Thankfully, you’ve become irrelevant to the cause. I hold the keys that will unlock our future, and I will not allow Jonas Morane to impose a tyranny quashing our legitimate aspirations.”

  “What do you mean you won’t allow?”

  At that moment, both their communicators lit up with an insistent buzz.

  **

  Gwenneth glanced at her office display, ignoring the chime coming from an inner pocket, and read the advisory from the Lyonesse government. The long-dreaded day was finally here. The Navy had spotted intruders at Lyonesse’s hyperlimit, intruders who came from interstellar space and not via the wormhole network. Government House was warning everyone the president might use his emergency powers and declare martial law within the next few hours.

  Landry popped his head through the door.

  “Shall I issue a notice that Brethren working outside should take shelter soonest?”

  “There’s still a little time. Warn them that they must wrap up whatever they’re doing if it can be finished within the next three hours. If it can’t, then they must suspend work at the most appropriate point within the next three hours.” She checked the time. “Make sure the outlying priories acknowledge, especially the Windy Isles, in case they slept through the alert.”

  “Yes, Abbess. Though I daresay, Prioress Mirjam will be on top of things.” Landry withdrew to carry out his orders.

  The Brethren were as ready as they could be should the worst happen. A contingent of volunteers from among the medical sisters and friars stood by, ready to help the Defense Force if rigorous quarantining became necessary. Gwenneth had even visited the two offshore islands designated as quarantine and decontamination sites along with General Hamm and the Order’s designated team leads. Now all they could do was pray the Almighty would let this poisonous cup pass Lyonesse.

  She returned to her work and was so deeply absorbed that Landry’s interruption caught her by surprise.

  “Abbess, Sister Keleos just called. She found Loxias sitting in his office, catatonic. She cannot wake him or sense his presence.”

  Gwenneth reared up. A worm of suspicion stirred. “Call Marta and ask her to join us in Loxias’ office.”

  “Immediately.”

  — 45 —

  ––––––––

  Gwenneth and Marta found Loxias sitting behind his desk on the ground floor of the administration building. His eyes were glazed over, and a string of drool hung from the corner of his mouth. Sister Keleos stayed by the door while Gwenneth entered to check his vitals.

  “He still lives,” Marta said in a strange voice. “You needn’t take his pulse. But his essence has vanished.”

  “What?” Gwenneth stopped in her tracks and stared back at Marta while a gasp of terror escaped Keleos’ throat.

  “Something blasted his mind away. It looks a lot like Seled’s did, only I sense much greater damage. There’s nothing left.”

  Stretcher-bearers from the abbey’s hospital pushed their way past Keleos, followed by the duty healer, a young sister doing her residency. Gwenneth, Marta, and Keleos withdrew into the hallway.

  “He won’t see another sunrise,” Marta murmured.

  “Why?” Keleos asked.

  “Seled died of cardiac arrest despite the priory’s best efforts. Loxias’ body will also fail. The stress on his heart was just as extreme.”

  Gwe
nneth turned a stare filled with both dread and resignation on Keleos.

  “Who was his last visitor?”

  Before the latter could reply, Marta said, “Stearn. He’s the only one able to do this.”

  When she noticed the abbess’ stricken expression, Marta added, “But you already knew that.”

  Keleos nodded. “She’s right. It was Stearn. How could he? Loxias treated him like a son.”

  They fell silent as the stretcher-bearers came through the office door with Loxias. The duty healer briefly met Gwenneth’s eyes as she passed them and gave her an almost imperceptible head shake before hurrying off behind the orderlies.

  “In hindsight, I suspect Stearn was a mental time bomb ticking away since the day I opened his third eye. A dark part of his soul has been struggling to come out ever since then. Something Loxias said or did set him off.”

  Gwenneth turned to where Landry waited at the foot of the stairs. “Find out where Stearn is. No one should approach him under any circumstances, save for me.”

  “And me,” Marta said in a tone that brooked no dissension. “I enabled him. Loxias’ condition is my fault, and I’m probably the only one who can stop him. If nothing else, after Seled, I know what to expect when evil lashes out in full fury.”

  “Agreed.” Gwenneth gazed at Keleos. “Any idea of what they were discussing or doing?”

  “No, but they were at loggerheads about something.” Keleos paused as if embarrassed. “Truth is, Stearn has been exhibiting more and more erratic behavior of late. Not so most people would notice, you understand, but those of us who are close saw him suffer from momentary, and I mean for a few seconds only, loss of self-control. But it meant arguments with Loxias over the direction we should take.”