“We meaning the Lindisfarne Brethren?”
Keleos stiffened. “With respect, Abbess, we meaning the Order. The Lindisfarne Brethren dissolved once we achieved our goal of having you declare Lyonesse the motherhouse.”
“Then what do you call the Brethren who are politically active and seek to increase our Order’s influence over the republic’s affairs?”
Keleos visibly swallowed her reply and merely stared at Gwenneth with emotionless eyes.
“What did Loxias and Stearn disagree about the most?” Gwenneth asked in a testy voice. “Come now, it might tell us where he went. If he can erase what Loxias was, Stearn is a clear and present danger.”
Keleos bit her lower lip.
“President Morane’s warning he would declare martial law if plague ships reached Lyonesse orbit before the Navy could intercept them. Stearn held the belief Morane would either fake an incursion or use a real one to cancel the upcoming senate elections and stay president for life. That meant the Order would never get a chance of working with an administration more open to our taking on a greater role. Loxias, who believes Jonas Morane is an honorable man, wasn’t having any of it. Their relationship was becoming rather testy.” Keleos paused for a moment. “In truth, I and others are becoming a little scared of Stearn’s mood swings.”
A soft sigh escaped Marta’s lips as a grimace of dismay twisted her usually smooth features.
“Wonderful. Stearn is developing symptoms of paranoid schizophrenia. This truly is the year we discover our limitations in awakening the mind’s dormant abilities. My teachings unleashed an angry soul that should have remained behind his closed inner eye. If Stearn found a way of overcoming or skirting his conditioning, there’s no telling what he might do to others.”
Before Gwenneth could reply, three communicators, one per sister, chimed insistently. They retrieved them from inner pockets with eerily matching gestures and frowned at the small screens.
Keleos was the first to speak. “Good heavens. It’s finally happened.”
“And I know where Stearn is heading. Gwenneth, you and I must ignore the order to take shelter. The moment Stearn sees this message, he will head for Government House.”
“Sisters.” Landry reappeared in the corridor. “Stearn left the abbey alone in one of the ground cars an hour ago.”
Gwenneth nodded. “Not long after the first warning, then. Meaning it probably was the trigger.”
“There is no ‘probably’ about it.” A stricken expression crossed Marta’s face. “Because of his deluded state, he would interpret that notification as the first sign of Lyonesse’s descent into tyranny.”
“We need a car, Landry. I will drive. Then see if you can track the one Stearn is using.”
The friar bowed his head.
“At once.”
**
“We sent the message to every communicator on the planet, Mister President,” Brigid DeCarde’s hologram said, “and notices are going up in public spaces. The Republic of Lyonesse is now under martial law until the danger passes.”
“Excellent. Thank you.”
“Adrienne Barca has activated the emergency operations center. She and the senior command staff are on their way to Lannion Base. Will you join them?”
Morane shook his head.
“No. Lannion Base is the most secure place on the planet. Hiding there while the republic’s citizens must make do with their dwellings or places of work as shelters, would send the wrong message. Besides, Adrienne doesn’t want me breathing down her neck.”
“That’s what I thought you’d say. But by everything holy, if the Navy warns of debris headed for Government House, bug out, will you.”
“James has the armored staff car on standby, but the chances of anything landing here are infinitesimally small. Don’t worry, I’ll finish my term and carry out an orderly handover with my successor, whoever that’ll be. I’m sure the Navy will make a clean intercept well before that wolf pack crosses the outer moon’s orbit, especially with our two newest warships leading the task force. And if the odd one gets through, Myrtale is more than capable of dealing with it.” The elderly frigate now turned into a mobile orbiting battle station, carried the third heaviest broadside in the Lyonesse Navy, after Vanquish and Savage. “Fortunately, the Navy spotted them almost at once when they dropped out of FTL at the hyperlimit. It gave First and Second Squadrons the time they needed for an orderly deployment. Once this is over, I’d find out which sensor tech raised the alarm and see that his or her captain writes a citation.”
“Will do, but still, we should take no chances.”
Morane gave her a strange look. “You seem more worried than I am. What gives?”
“This is the largest wolf pack to date, boss. Twelve of the bastards. I know we outgun them on a one-to-one basis — except for the auxiliary sloops — but that’s still a target-rich environment for a small Navy with a third of her strength guarding the wormhole termini. It just takes one chunk of wreckage shedding plague viruses impacting in or near a settlement...” She let her words trail off, then sighed. “On the other hand, I’m just a Marine. What do I know about naval combat in space? Probably way less than you’ve forgotten.”
A crooked smile lit up Morane’s craggy face.
“That’s okay. I know little about ground combat, let alone Pathfinder operations. If ever you become president, make sure you hire a former naval officer as Defense Secretary. It’s the only way you can cover everything.”
“Me president? Perish the thought. Retirement and a casual gig as a Command and Staff College lecturer after the election sound surprisingly good right now.”
“If Charis succeeds me, she’ll keep you on.”
“Unlike a nominee for the job of Void abbess, I can decline the honor, and I will. After working for you all these years, I don’t think I’ll take to her. Nothing personal. I just prefer working for someone with a military mind. It makes life easier. By the way, where is our vice president?”
“Charis is at her residence, suffering from the effects of a more common virus.”
DeCarde nodded. The Sandino family owned an estate on the heights overlooking Lannion, close to Gerson Hecht’s property.
“I thought she looked a little peaky at the last cabinet meeting. But it’s good she’s not in the office. The boss and his second in command can’t ride out an attack at the same vulnerable location.”
“The Government House war room, from where I will watch Vanquish’s live feed once First Squadron engages the wolf pack, isn’t exactly a vulnerable location.”
“Nor is it wreckage-proof, but fair enough.”
“Unless you have better plans, join me so I can explain the finer points of naval tactics as the interception unfolds in real-time, say around fifteen hundred hours?”
— 46 —
––––––––
“They’re not powering shields or weapons,” Lieutenant Stefan Norum said as he studied the bridge’s tactical projection from his perch on the command chair. Lieutenant Commander Lisiecki had taken his battle stations post in the corvette’s combat information center shortly after they broke out of orbit. “The bastards must see 1st Squadron in all its glory by now. We’re boosting hard.”
“Aye,” Lisiecki’s hologram, floating at Norum’s right elbow, replied. “And Vanquish on her own will light up their threat boards, never mind the rest of us. They can’t be that blind, not if they figured out we shoot intruders using the wormhole branch.”
“Could be they’re running on fumes after an extended FTL trip from Arietis through interstellar space.” Norum frowned as an idea struck him. “Captain, has anyone pinged them for life signs?”
“You think they might be ghost ships?”
“We don’t know how long infected people live before virus-induced mutations kill them. The plague could have reached the endgame in that wolf pack w
hile they were in hyperspace.”
“Excellent point. Link me with Vanquish. I’ll suggest we and Prevail hammer the barbarians with our sensors on full power, seeing as how we’re closest.”
“Linking with Vanquish, aye.”
The cruiser’s captain, who doubled as 1st Squadron’s commander, issued the order for intensive scans of the intruding ships within moments, and they found their answer less than ten minutes later.
“I’m not picking up life signs in ten of the twelve bogies,” Standfast’s sensor chief reported, “and only faint ones in the remaining two.”
Norum nodded. “Ghost ships.”
A soft female voice sounded from the back of the CIC — Sister Hoshi, the corvette’s counselor and chief medical officer.
“The ones still alive are dying in agony, Captain. They will not survive for long.”
“Then our missiles will do them a favor. Signals, send our readings to Vanquish. Let’s see if the intercept plan changes now that we determined at least ten out of twelve are under autopilot control at best.”
**
“Ghost ships?”
Morane and DeCarde exchanged surprised looks at the announcement. They were ensconced in Government House’s subterranean war room, a reinforced storage space converted during Elenia Yakin’s first term at Morane’s urging for just such an occasion.
He touched a control screen embedded in the conference table’s wooden surface. A few seconds later, General Barca’s face appeared on a side display.
“Yes, Mister President. What can I do for you?”
“If First Squadron can capture a ship with tractor beams and tow it to one of Lyonesse’s Lagrangian points, it would give our researchers added study material. I think one and a half million kilometers from our atmosphere is a reasonable buffer, so long as we keep guns on it for the duration.”
“Agreed, sir. A ship with or without life signs?”
“Without. Those with life signs carry live viruses and are primary targets for destruction.”
“Understood, sir.”
“Thank you, General. That’s all I wanted. Morane, out.”
He grimaced at DeCarde. “This might sound callous, but let’s hope they died because of the virus and not because their environmental systems failed. It would give us a larger sample of victims to study and more importantly, victims not torn apart when their ships were destroyed, but killed by this thing.”
“In an ugly way, if Standfast’s mind-meddler is right.”
“Be glad those mind-meddlers are aboard our starships. They’re the only ones who can tell us about intangibles such as the agony those infected suffer near the end. Every bit of data on this damned plague is invaluable.”
She gave him a grudging look.
“I’ll concede the point. But I still don’t like the increased interest a few of them show in matters beyond the abbey walls.”
“I may have mentioned this before — the Brethren are full citizens of the republic with just as many rights and responsibilities as you and I. Even Gwenneth can’t order them to stay away from secular affairs. The Void just isn’t that sort of monastic order.”
**
“I still can’t believe it.” Gwenneth dropped into the ground car’s driver seat, waited for Marta to join her, then closed the side doors and fed power to the wheels. “Why would Stearn head for Government House? There are twelve presumptive plague ships inbound.”
“In his dissociated state, he believes it’s a sham cooked up by Jonas Morane to cancel the elections and make himself president for life under a state of interminable martial law.”
“How does this even make sense?”
“It doesn’t, in our world. But in his...” Marta glanced through the side window at the ripening fields surrounding the only home she’d known for more than a third of her life. “He stripped Loxias of everything but his last breath. Stearn is no longer someone we can understand by our own lights. I blame myself for not seeing his slow march toward the edge of the abyss.”
“Self-blame is an indulgence none of us can afford at the best of times, as a wise person once said,” Gwenneth replied in a dry tone. “Our friends in the Republic’s Defense Force would say we fucked up, you and I.”
Marta inclined her head respectfully.
“A fair assessment. Seled’s destruction was mercifully quick. Stearn’s might yet wreak havoc on everything we hold dear.”
“And in a time of crisis.”
The car’s communication system came to life.
“Abbess, this is Landry. We traced Stearn’s car to the residence of Vice President Sandino on the escarpment.”
Gwenneth and Marta glanced at each other.
“Are you sure?”
“That’s what the global tracking system says. It’s still there.”
Gwenneth nodded. “Take out the lawful successor who supports her president’s policies, before removing the principal.”
“Abbess.” Landry’s voice came over the communicator again. “The infirmary just called. Loxias died a few minutes ago.”
“Damn.” Marta struck her thigh with a clenched fist. “This is on me.”
“On both of us. You know, if both Jonas and Charis die in office, Brigid DeCarde becomes president, and she’s no great friend of the Order.”
“Stearn isn’t aware of that. Why should he?” Marta grimaced. “DeCarde keeps her feelings well hidden. You only know because of Jonas Morane and I because of you.”
“It’s worse. Brigid DeCarde is one of those rare people who can detect mind-meddling. I believe the ability has run in her family since before the birth of the empire. She somehow sensed Stearn brushing her mind several weeks ago. Jonas warned me.”
“And you didn’t think it might be a splendid idea if you mentioned this?”
“You were in the Windies.”
Marta gave her superior a harsh glare. Gwenneth ignored it as she steered their car toward the escarpment, and Vice President Sandino’s home. They encountered no checkpoints, nor did they see any police or military personnel as they skirted Lannion’s northern edge.
Streets were eerily empty, though both sisters sensed human minds behind the polarized residence and office windows, many of them fearful. Everyone on Lyonesse understood the day would eventually come when desperate reivers with jury-rigged antimatter containment units bypassed the wormhole branch entirely to reach the last star system in the Coalsack Sector with a functioning high tech civilization.
Gwenneth always marveled at the sumptuous estates overlooking Lannion. They made Jonas Morane’s comfortable home seem positively modest by comparison. To a mansion, they were metal-topped and clad in laser-cut granite blocks of various hues. Built so they could resist even the fiercest storm sweeping inland from the Middle Sea, they sat at the heart of park-like properties surrounded by fences that were both ornamental and provided security. Sandino’s home was no exception, though hers was more securely guarded than the rest.
Both Sisters of the Void were therefore surprised when they found the front gate wide open with no sign of the police officers who protected the republic’s vice president from what were mostly harmless citizens fixated on one issue or another. Sandino wasn’t popular enough to attract more dangerous admirers or detractors.
The car used by Stearn sat abandoned in the curved driveway, across from the open front door, along with two prone, uniformed men who looked like they collapsed in mid-stride.
“Are they—” Gwenneth abruptly cut power to her car’s wheels and opened both driver and passenger side doors.
Marta reached out with her mind. “They’re unconscious but otherwise unharmed.”
“Thank the Almighty for small mercies.”
They climbed out of their seats, and while Gwenneth knelt beside the officers to check their vitals, Marta took the front steps two at a time with a surge of energy
born from desperation. But she already knew her deepest fears would be confirmed. And they were.
She found Charis Sandino sprawled on her back across the marble-floored foyer, dead. A quick touch with her mind’s tendrils confirmed the vice president’s life essence was gone after being blasted to shreds by Stearn’s unhinged assault. Though Sandino’s brain would show no physical damage, Marta saw nothing but ashes. Her former student had murdered another human being using the abilities she’d unleashed.
“Is she dead?”
Marta whirled around to face Gwenneth.
“Yes. Stearn murdered her, just as he murdered Loxias. Another death stemming from my actions.”
“Where is Stearn?”
“Not here. He did the deed, abandoned the abbey car, and left, probably in the security detail’s vehicle. He could be at Government House by now.”
“So should we, though I daresay, he won’t get in quite as easily.”
As they hurried back to their car, Marta asked, “Should we call Jonas and warn him?”
“Of what? A demented friar who can kill with his thoughts? Either he’ll ask how much gin we’ve been drinking or realize we are worse mind-meddlers than Brigid DeCarde imagines. I can live with the first outcome, which wouldn’t help in this situation. The Order, on the other hand, can’t live with the second one.” As soon as they settled in and the doors closed, Gwenneth gunned the car’s drive train. “Stopping that demented friar before he harms anyone else is our job, and ours alone. Let’s pray we won’t be too late, for everyone’s sakes.”
— 47 —
––––––––
“Sir.” Commander James Lutzow, Morane’s naval aide, stuck his head into the war room. “There’s a Friar Stearn at the main gate. He claims he carries a personal message for your ears only from Abbess Gwenneth, something she couldn’t discuss over a comlink.”
“Very well.” Morane climbed to his feet, imitated by DeCarde. “There’s no point in remaining here anyhow. Those ghost ships won’t pass the outer moon’s orbit. I’ll lift martial law the moment I hear from the operations center that all save the one we’re keeping for study are destroyed.”
Imperial Night (Ashes of Empire, #3) Page 31