Now he would arrive as the obvious new leader, a hero to solve all their problems. Selik Riomini was the Diadem’s clear successor anyway, so it was just a matter of stepping forward and assuming the throne that was rightfully his. Given the emergency situation, Riomini didn’t have time for subtle manipulations, gradual coalition-building, votes and revotes.
The scale of Riomini’s unexpected military force, however, astonished the nobles. Previously, they had assumed that all viable warships in the Crown Jewels had been given to Commodore Hallholme to fight the rebels, and they were shocked by the sudden arrival of a huge and unexpected fleet at the main stringline hub.
“This is a crisis,” Riomini announced as he strode into the large chamber. “And I am here to ensure order and safety.”
Numerous nobles lurched to their feet and shouted protests. His female guards surrounded him protectively, but made no threatening moves. Behind Riomini, more of his black-uniformed soldiers filed into the chamber and took positions around the perimeter, and down the center aisle.
Lord Horatio Dodds, the ruler of Barassa, had been addressing the Council and now looked befuddled by the interruption. The tall, mustachioed man remained at the podium, perturbed and then indignant as Riomini’s guards moved him aside so that the Black Lord could take his place.
“It is my turn to speak,” Riomini said calmly. “Time to get the Constellation back on track.”
Dodds retreated, mumbling in displeasure as he left the central stage. The other nobles scrambled to resume their seats, uneasy but eager to hear what the new arrival had to say. Messengers rushed in and out of the hall, whispering to particular representatives, explaining the extent of the military force Riomini had brought with him from Qiorfu.
As he gazed around the chamber, he paused to study various faces, scowling at some and smiling warmly at others who had previously expressed support for him. After a dramatic moment of silence, he said, “Michella Duchenet committed a devastating, treasonous act against her own people. She showed herself to be an enemy of the Constellation, attacking our capital and fleeing to the Deep Zone—enemy territory! By her actions, she has abdicated her role. In such an emergency, the Constellation needs strong leadership, an immediate replacement. As the presumptive successor to the Star Throne, I offer myself as the next Diadem. I anticipate your immediate and unanimous support in installing me to the role, for the good of the Constellation.” He looked out at the faces. “My forces have restored order to the orbital hub and the capital city, and they are prepared to protect us against any attack from General Adolphus.”
He let the words sink in, saw the expressions of surprise, shock, and uneasiness, although a few saw the inevitability of the succession.
A silver-haired woman rose to her feet in one of the center rows. “I propose that we accept Lord Riomini as the acting Diadem, until such time as the matter can be fully debated and decided.” Elegantly dressed, Lady Arlene Marubi was known as a moderate, sometimes voting in support of positions that Riomini espoused, and sometimes against them. She had come to the obvious conclusion and did not want to waste any further time.
“Until such time as the crisis is over,” added a middle-aged man, one of those Riomini had consulted, and bribed, ahead of time. Riomini knew that, given proper manipulation of events and reports, the “crisis” would never be deemed over.
Riomini looked at them all sternly. This was his opportunity, and he needed to deal with the situation immediately. “Acting Diadem? We must be unified, and General Adolphus is not an ‘acting’ enemy. I hope this—” He paused for effect. “—this august body formally recognizes my authority with all due speed. That is what the Constellation needs.” He squared his shoulders. “I am what the Constellation needs.”
Lady Marubi rose back to her feet, with more to say. “Point of order: This cannot be a legal decision unless and until Diadem Michella has formally abdicated.”
“Or until we formally remove her,” said a minor noble, Lord Hikon Rikter, another of Riomini’s supporters. “I submit that she formally abandoned her role when she attacked Sonjeera and fled.” Angry mutters rippled through the audience. Few people could stomach supporting Michella Duchenet after what she had done.
But a weak-voiced older man, Lord Ilvar Crais—father of Major Bolton Crais—did speak up. “The Diadem transmitted a statement explaining her actions. She announced that she had stopped an insidious alien plot and that she prevented the release of deadly contamination that would have destroyed us.”
“Paranoid nonsense,” Riomini chuckled.
Crais did not back down. “Nevertheless, the claims of the Diadem deserve to be considered, not dismissed outright. What if she did save us?”
“Ask that of the hundreds of thousands of innocent citizens who were vaporized,” said Lord Rikter.
Grumbles, even mocking laughter, filled the hall, and Riomini knew he was winning. “Then let her come back and explain herself—at her trial as a war criminal. If Michella saved us all, why did she flee? If she has evidence to support her actions, I am sure the families of her victims would like to hear it.” That was greeted with loud agreement.
Riomini pressed further. “She may very well believe that she sterilized a dangerous threat, but by fleeing out to the Deep Zone, she wants to see if any of us becomes contaminated before she dares to return.” He looked around into the deepening, concerned silence. “Is that the sort of leader you want?”
A number of noblemen shouted out support for Riomini, but Lord Crais again broke in. “One slight problem remains. We do not have a quorum, due to transportation disruptions—along with the losses of Lord Klief and Lord Cherby in the spaceport explosion. A Diadem can only be voted into office by the unanimous consent of all twenty ruling families. Unfortunately, the successors to Lord Klief and Lord Cherby have not yet been appointed.”
Lord Tanik Hirdan, a loud and stern man who had not previously expressed consistent support for Riomini, now let out an impatient bellow. “Enough of this nonsense. We must not blind ourselves with red tape during an emergency. I propose we install Lord Riomini by acclamation.”
Surprised, Riomini gave Hirdan an appreciative nod. Following a moment’s hesitation, the chamber erupted into a standing ovation, with boisterous shouts of support for the new Diadem. No, he had not underestimated their antipathy toward Michella Duchenet.
This part, at least, was done.
31
There was little time to implement the abduction of Diadem Michella and escape from Tehila before the Army of the Constellation launched, but Enva knew how to seize an opportunity.
Though she didn’t like Ishop Heer, he was also a man of action and flexibility, as Enva was quickly discovering. Both of them happened to be in useful positions, with the resources and official connections they needed to kidnap the old Diadem.
The overall plan blossomed quickly in Enva’s mind. Before being caught in the undertow of the sweeping purge here, she had already been pondering how she might restore herself to power. Working discreetly in her civil servant office, she monitored the military preparations, looking for an opening amid all that distraction.
In short order, Percival Hallholme had secured both stringline terminus rings, consolidated Tehila’s defenses, and made the planet an armed camp. The Commodore was anxious to launch his assault on unsuspecting Hellhole. If Enva could warn General Adolphus of the imminent attack and deliver the Diadem as a hostage as well, the General would embrace her as an ally. Together they could turn the tables, sweep back to Sonjeera, and bring the Crown Jewels to their knees.
That had been Enva’s plan all along. She would rule the Crown Jewels, and Tiber Adolphus would rule the Deep Zone in a commercial alliance to benefit all concerned. Except for old Michella, of course.…
And then there was Ishop Heer. Although he claimed to have turned against the Diadem, Enva didn’t trust him. She could take care of him later—right now, she needed him. Time was extremely short; the
y had to pull off their scheme in a day, or their warning would come too late. Ishop also felt the urgency. He told her, “I cannot destroy the Diadem soon enough.”
While Enva continued to work in the government offices, Ishop pulled strings of his own, granting her increased access throughout the administrative mansion, including the Diadem’s main offices. He also gave her passcodes to the most secure levels of Tehila’s admin networks, then sent coded and self-erasing messages to let her know his plans and progress. Once Enva had access, alternatives would spread out before her; she just had to tie the different strands together.
She pretended to be bored as she worked on the inventory of impounded spacecraft, but Enva was actually rearranging the embargo, earmarking certain seized ships for special deployment as part of Commodore Hallholme’s assault. Since those orders came directly from the main government offices, marked with the Diadem’s personal signature code (forged) for confirmation, she was able to designate Ian Walfor’s ship as cleared and ready for immediate departure.
Next, she had to bring them into the plan and make the last piece fall into place.
* * *
Militia troops were assigned to the section of the city where the Candela refugees were held in slapdash community housing. The people had gone through a devastating ordeal upon evacuating their planet, losing their homes and worldly possessions.
Tehila had not warmly welcomed the refugees, and now the military takeover had thrown them into a cauldron again. The refugee settlement was not a prison or an armed camp, and the militia guards were there to ensure that the refugees did not stage an uprising of their own, but rather than calming them, the additional security and the repressive atmosphere had the opposite effect.
Enva knew that Ian Walfor and Tanja Hu had to be somewhere in that refugee complex. As an unobtrusive clerk, she obtained an official pass bearing the Diadem’s seal and a stamp from Administrator Reming, which granted her permission to speak to a representative of the refugees. Her stated goal was to manage a smooth transition, now that Tehila was restored to good graces in the Constellation.
Outside the refugee complex, the guards were skeptical, even amused at the bureaucratic obliviousness. “Would you like an armed escort inside, ma’am?”
She played up her naïveté, showed the Diadem’s pass as if that was all the protection she would ever need. “Oh, that won’t be necessary. They’re citizens, and I’m just trying to improve their conditions. Uniformed guards would only make the situation seem more awkward.”
“They aren’t too happy about the new administration,” a guard said. “A lot of people in town are grumbling, not that there’s anything they can do about it.” He smirked. “But the Candela refugees have always been complainers.”
“They’ll come around soon enough,” Enva said as she passed through the gate; then she hesitated, as if another thought had occurred to her. “Diadem Michella wishes to ensure a harmonious consolidation, so we have to try to understand their concerns. Soon—perhaps today or tomorrow—I will be taking refugee representatives over to the Diadem’s offices. I hope you won’t give me any headaches about that.”
“No, ma’am,” said the guard. “I’ll pass the word to the personnel on duty.”
Inside the refugee housing, Enva found open yards where people gathered, families sitting together and talking under large tent awnings. Most of the refugees looked gloomy, still in shock. They looked up when she arrived in her officious bureaucratic outfit, carrying her paperwork. If Walfor and Hu had vanished into the crowds here, they would never be found unless they wanted to be. Enva Tazaar did not have time for games.
She addressed no one in particular, but had their attention. She changed her tone of voice. “I’m looking for Ian Walfor and Tanja Hu. I wish to speak with them as soon as possible. Please assure them it will be a mutually beneficial conversation.”
Seeing the downtrodden people, she did not expect them to react with enthusiasm, nor did they. She could feel a wave of resentment building around her, but Lady Enva Tazaar knew how to address large crowds, knew how to infuse authority into her voice. She discarded her demeanor as a mere governmental clerk and became an entirely different person, commanding and confident.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I know that Ian Walfor and Tanja Hu are both here. Their ship arrived several days ago, but I have not reported it to the Diadem or to Commodore Hallholme. If I were going to betray the two of them, I would not have come here. The Diadem would reward me well if I revealed that the fugitive Buktu planetary administrator was right here under her nose.” Enva narrowed her eyes. “And she would be even more interested to capture the woman who sent the head of Territorial Governor Undine back to Sonjeera.”
She regarded them all; she definitely had their attention now. “I promise Hu and Walfor will want to hear what I have to say, and it’ll definitely help your situation here on Tehila. It’s a matter of some urgency, and if we don’t act soon we’ll lose our window of opportunity.” She glanced at her chronometer, hardened her voice in case anyone here tried to betray her. “If I haven’t returned to my offices in one hour, the Diadem’s forces will receive an announcement, and they will mercilessly sweep this entire compound.”
Enva sat in silence and waited, daring them to call her bluff.
The two refugee governors came to her in a few minutes. Enva appraised them, saw a strength and confidence that was different from the sad, hopeless resignation of many Candela refugees.
She rose to her feet and faced them. “I know you, but you don’t know me … unless you look closely.” Their faces showed no immediate recognition. “We need to go somewhere we can talk in private.”
“You’re Enva Tazaar,” Tanja finally said.
“And I need your help bringing down the Diadem and saving Hellhole.”
* * *
It was dusk, and the shifts changed among the militia guards. The headquarters staff was heading home, more concerned with dinner than politics.
Ishop could barely contain himself.
He had watched the time all day. After receiving the go-ahead from Enva Tazaar, he studied the spaceport records and made sure that Walfor’s impounded ship was ready to go. This would be their only chance. Another day, and it would be too late.
Commodore Hallholme considered Tehila sufficiently consolidated that he was ready to launch his Hellhole assault. After he and Enva abducted the Diadem, however, Ishop knew those plans would change.
His mind felt like a mass of snakes, his thoughts twisted and lashing out with all the myriad reasons he had to hate Michella Duchenet. She was cold and vengeful, self-centered, clutching onto power with a clawlike grip. She had used him. She had laughed away his hard-fought and well-earned noble name.
And she had murdered Laderna.
Ishop was not inclined to be a forgiving person.
Simply killing the Diadem would have been so satisfying, but Enva was right: far better to deliver Michella helpless to her mortal enemy, the man she hated most in the entire universe. Eventually, the old woman would learn that Ishop was the one who had betrayed her, so he could take satisfaction from that, too.
As the Diadem finished her day and readied herself to face another dreary evening in these primitive and squalid buildings, Ishop presented himself with the well-oiled smile he had practiced so much it seemed almost natural to him. “I have a special treat for you, Eminence. Something I must show you myself.”
She exhibited no interest. “I’m tired, Ishop. What is it?”
“After searching the impounded ships at the spaceport, I found something that will delight you—a whole array of black-market delicacies! So many, and in such assortment, I don’t know which of them to bring you. Luxury items fit for a Diadem. They were intended for Administrator Reming, but I intercepted them for you.”
She smiled. “Ishop, you’re such a dear, always thinking of me. What would I ever do without you?”
“You would have grea
t difficulty without me, Eminence.” He gestured for her to follow him. “Come, everything is stored in the reserve pantry. We’ll take a side corridor.”
She sighed. “Oh, Ishop, just prepare a gourmet dinner for me. You know what I like. And you know I can be very grateful.”
With great effort, he kept the edge out of his voice. “Yes, I’m very familiar with your gratitude, Eminence. But you need to see this for yourself—it’s on the way to your suite. There are also several cartons of the special-blend tea you like so much, and a lot more.… I wouldn’t presume to choose for you.” He took her arm, encouraging her. “It’ll be like a treasure hunt, just you and me.”
She chuckled, let herself be persuaded, as he had known she would. “Oh, very well.”
He led her out a side hallway, knowing she was glad to bypass the constant guards and pestering officials. Ishop also knew Enva Tazaar would be waiting for them. He was unarmed, because he was searched whenever he came into the Diadem’s presence. Enva, though, had managed to acquire a powerful hand stunner, which she smuggled through security on her own.
When Ishop guided Michella into the large pantry chamber, Enva Tazaar was waiting for them inside, stunner drawn. Ishop closed the door as Michella looked aghast. “Ishop, protect me!”
She started to scream for guards, but Enva felled her with a crackling stun blast. The Diadem collapsed like a heap of mummified bones.
His eyes sparkled. In preparing for this, the two of them had cleared out many of the packages in the pantry and left an empty cargo container marked with Constellation insignia. “Help me get her in here,” Enva said, keeping a businesslike edge to her voice, demonstrating that she was a hard and imperious noblewoman, just like she had been before her disgrace. “I’ve already got the manifest written up and approved, and there’s a ground hauler waiting. We’ll take her to Ian Walfor’s ship at the spaceport.”
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