Doctor Who: Dreams of Empire: 50th Anniversary Edition

by Richards, Justin

  Rutger waited until the door into the dining room closed behind Kesar. ‘He has a point,’ he told Trayx.

  Trayx said nothing for a while, twisting the stem of his wine glass and watching the light reflect through the cut facets of the crystal. ‘Yes,’ he said at last. ‘He has a point.’ He looked up at Rutger. ‘But he got to the point after he made the decision.’

  ‘Rationalisation rather than motive, you think?’

  ‘Don’t you?’ Trayx lifted the glass, held it up to the light for a second, then drained it in a single swallow. ‘It’s all a game to him. Chess on a grand scale. The question is, what do we do now – you and I?’

  ‘Either way,’ Rutger said slowly, ‘the Republic could be split. Whatever we do, whether we give our support to Kesar, or remain silent for the moment, Haddron could be plunged into civil war.’

  ‘And what,’ Trayx asked quietly, his voice barely even a whisper, ‘what if we side against him?’

  ‘Then there will be civil war within days. You know that several of the legions would join Kesar rather than us – the Seventh, for example, and the Fifth. Thousands, if not millions, of our own people would die before we return to a semblance of the political stability we currently enjoy. Or rather, enjoyed.’ Rutger got slowly to his feet and took Trayx’s empty glass. He refilled and returned it. ‘We have to do whatever we can to keep the Republic together. Unless Hans somehow loses a large part of his popular support, he can probably pull this off without bloodshed. No one would dare move against him without a good excuse or cause.’

  ‘Probably.’

  Rutger slumped back into the sofa. ‘Even doing nothing makes a statement,’ he said. ‘We have to decide what statement we should make.’

  The waves that broke their backs against the massive rocks below the balcony were a stark contrast to the smooth calm of the moonlit sea further out. Helana stood at the balcony rail, looking out over the distant ripples and depths.

  She did not turn when she heard the footsteps behind her. ‘Hello, my darling.’

  His hands were firm against her shoulders as he squeezed. She sighed and nestled in close, feeling the warmth of his breath as he whispered softly to her.

  ‘They’re still talking in there.’

  ‘What will they decide?’ she asked.

  Hans Kesar shrugged. ‘You tell me,’ he said. ‘He’s your husband.’

  ‘He will do what he believes to be right.’

  ‘Even if it means siding against his friend?’

  She turned to face him, put her finger to his lips. ‘You know he will. And nothing I can say to him will alter that.’ She moved her finger across his lips, caressed his cheek.

  ‘I wasn’t going to ask.’

  ‘Good.’ She turned back towards the sea. ‘You’d better get back to them.’ A wave crashed on to the rock below, showering her with soft bubbles of foam and spray. ‘I hope it won’t come to war,’ she murmured distantly as the door to the dining room slid shut behind her.

  *

  ‘But I don’t believe we can be seen to move either way,’ Trayx was saying. ‘If we declare our support for Kesar now, we are open to accusations of siding with him out of friendship rather than conviction. Better to wait, to be seen to deliberate.’

  ‘And suggest that even Kesar’s closest friends do not agree with his actions?’ Rutger asked.

  Trayx walked over to the doors out on to the balcony, peering out through the glass. He could just make out the silhouette of his wife as she stood looking out over the water. ‘Appearances,’ he said. ‘Everything we do is tempered by appearances.’ He turned back to face Rutger. ‘We must do what we believe to be best for the Republic, and appearances be damned.’

  ‘And what is best?’

  Trayx shrugged. ‘For the moment, I don’t know. The next few days will tell. I know you don’t approve of doing nothing, but I think we must wait.’

  Rutger joined him by the doors, put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘I don’t disapprove of doing nothing,’ he said. ‘Provided we actually decide that it is best to do nothing, rather than allow ourselves to be trapped into inactivity through indecision, that’s fine.’ He smiled. ‘And I agree: for now it is best to wait, and throw our weight behind the right choice for Haddron – when we know what that is.’

  Trayx nodded slowly. Suddenly he felt incredibly tired. He poured himself more wine and sighed. ‘If it comes to the choice of betraying my friend or the Republic,’ he said softly, ‘God give me the courage to betray my friend.’

  The door from the dining room opened and Hans Kesar came in. He looked at his two friends, then burst out laughing. ‘If you could see yourselves,’ he said. ‘If you could see how grim you both look.’ He joined Trayx by the wine, pouring himself a generous measure. ‘Maybe we shouldn’t celebrate political events,’ he said evenly, ‘or even discuss them. But we should at least be grateful that circumstances have brought the three of us together again.’ He raised his glass to them. ‘It has been too long, my friends, far too long. May we meet again soon.’ He took a long sip of wine, then smacked his lips together appreciatively.

  Helana Trayx watched the sea hurl itself against the intractable rock on which Rutger’s mansion was built. Inside she could hear the muffled conversation and laughter of the three men. Above her, the moon shone brightly down at the sea, oblivious to the dark clouds that were gathering near by.

  The debate was crucial, a turning point. Trayx’s mind was still in turmoil as he approached the Senate Room. He was so preoccupied that he barely noticed the figure that emerged from a side corridor and walked beside him.

  ‘Consul, do you have a moment?’

  Trayx stopped, momentarily startled, and turned towards the man. It was Senator Frehlich. Trayx knew him well, a sycophantic weasel who would face which ever way he thought the wind was currently blowing. ‘The debate starts in a few minutes,’ Trayx said levelly. ‘I think it is important we be there. Don’t you?’

  ‘Indeed. Indeed yes.’ Frehlich was rubbing his hands together nervously, looking round all the time. ‘But if you can spare just a moment or two before that, I think it would be time well spent.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘This way.’ Frehlich gestured towards the nearest conference room. ‘It really is important, Consul.’

  Trayx considered. A few moments of his time would not hurt. And it was possible that Frehlich really did have an important point to make. Normally, Trayx resisted the lobbying and political posturing that was endemic at the Senate. But these were not normal times. He pushed the door open and went into the conference room.

  ‘Consul, I’m so very pleased you could spare us a few moments.’ The gaunt figure of Senator Mathesohn rose to his feet and shook Trayx’s hand. He waved Trayx to a chair on the other side of the round table. ‘I know your time is precious. But we live through dangerous days.’

  Trayx sat, arms folded. He would listen for a few minutes only to whatever Mathesohn had to say. Frehlich sat midway between Mathesohn and Trayx, a move intended to draw the two closer together.

  ‘Well?’

  Mathesohn appeared to consider for a second, staring down at his hands clasped on the table before him. Then he looked up, his eyes meeting Trayx’s. ‘We have had our differences, Consul. We have disagreed on…’ He waved a hand in the air as if searching with it for an example.

  ‘On everything,’ Trayx said bluntly.

  ‘On several matters, shall we say.’ Mathesohn smiled. Just for a second, then the humour was wiped away and he leaned forward. ‘But things are happening around us that we neither of us can ignore. We must put the past behind us, Consul. For the good of the Republic, we must make difficult decisions. We must put aside our differences, our personal animosity.’

  ‘Just as we must not allow our judgement to be clouded by personal friendship?’ Trayx suggested.

  Mathesohn froze in position. Frehlich glanced at him, worried.

  ‘So that’s what th
is is about.’ Trayx sighed and stood up.

  ‘Wait.’ There was a hint of desperation in Frehlich’s voice.

  Trayx hesitated.

  ‘Consul, I would not have spoken to you if I were not convinced that it was important.’ Mathesohn’s voice was more level, his tone reasonable. ‘There are others whose opinions I could better spend my time trying to sway. But I –’ he glanced at Frehlich – ‘we need your advice.’

  Trayx frowned. ‘Advice? Go on.’

  ‘There are difficult decisions to be made, Consul. Desperate decisions. And we cannot make those decisions in the usual way, tempered by political and factional considerations.’ He leaned forward again, his eyebrows knitted tight in sincerity. ‘This is the Republic we’re talking about. We are beyond politics, beyond friendships now. And you, Consul, you more than anyone have your finger on the pulse of the Republic. You are outside the factional nonsense and personal rancour.’

  ‘You want me to tell you what to do? How to vote?’ Trayx could not believe that Mathesohn would accept that.

  ‘No. That is a decision we must each make for ourselves. But I want to know, outside the debate and posture of the Senate Room, I want to know how you see things, how you interpret events. And I want to be sure you are yourself properly prepared for the debate.’

  Trayx felt the blood freeze in his face. ‘What do you mean?’ His voice was quiet, tense. ‘What do you know?’

  Mathesohn’s surprise was complete. Perhaps too complete. ‘You haven’t heard, Consul?’ He shook his head in apparent amazement. ‘A good job we spoke. Otherwise, his arrogance and incompetence would have appeared even more extreme. You know that Kesar has refused to attend this morning? I see that you do.’ He shook his head. ‘But not even to inform the General in Chief of this latest development.’

  Trayx sat down again. His head felt heavy. In that moment he knew what would happen, how the debate would go. And he knew how he must vote.

  Frehlich and Mathesohn were both leaning across the table at him as Trayx stared back at them, seeing not the Senators but the face of his friend as if across a chessboard. Mathesohn’s words echoed slightly in the enclosed space of the room. ‘The Fifth Legion, Consul. He has lost the Fifth Legion.’

  The debate was noisy and ill-disciplined. The Senate Speaker shouted for calm and decorum but to no avail. The Sergeant at Arms shifted nervously on more than one occasion, afraid he would be asked to remove the more rowdy Senators.

  There were only two people who could command complete silence while they were on their feet in the Senate. One was Kesar, by the sheer force of his personality and his charisma. It cost him dear that he was not there in person that day. In person he might have countered the growing swell of opposition.

  The turning point was Consul Trayx’s speech. He rarely spoke in the Senate. When he did it was short and to the point. And it was always worth hearing. There was complete silence as he spoke, without notes, for an unprecedented seventeen minutes. He called for calm; he called for unity; he called for reason. He urged each and every Senator to weigh the matter on its own merits, devoid of partisan lines and factional politics. He blinked a nascent tear from his eye as he moved the motion for the impeachment of Consul General Hans Kesar.

  *

  It surprised no one that Kesar ignored the Senate vote. He rallied his considerable forces and established a command centre on one of the moons of Geflon. First blood went to Kesar, with a resounding victory against the Senate forces at Yerlich. His main advantage was surprise. Trayx had refused to attack the Geflon sector until all the diplomatic possibilities had been exhausted. Kesar had no such scruples, and ordered his troops forward just hours before he was due to accept a diplomatic mission from Haddron to debate the issues.

  The advantage that Kesar gained at Yerlich enabled him to hold out against the Senate forces for another year. But in the end, despite broadly equal numbers of Haddrons and mechanised forces on each side, Kesar stood no chance against the strategic genius of his friend. Trayx’s superior skills and strategies flowed through the VETAC command network, giving them superiority at every point in the decisive battle of Trophinamon.

  Kesar’s forces were surrounded, his command net penetrated and undermined. When his personal VETAC bodyguards succumbed to a subversion routine, Kesar realised the end had come. Together with his most senior general, he surrendered to the same VETAC commander who just minutes before had been programmed to prize the Consul General’s life above everything else.

  Trayx met Kesar in the middle of the smoking battlefield. Since Kesar was still technically Consul General of Haddron, Trayx saluted him.

  They walked side by side through the devastation, Trayx’s VETAC guards following at a discrete distance.

  ‘Fifteen thousand dead today,’ Trayx said. ‘To say nothing of the VETAC units that have been lost.’ Kesar said nothing, so Trayx went on. ‘A total of nearly a million dead in the war.’

  ‘It was your decision.’

  ‘No,’ Trayx said quietly. ‘No, I won’t have that. It’s proof that I made the right decision.’

  ‘We could have had it all, my friend.’

  ‘Yes, we could. But it would not have been worth it.’

  ‘Was this?’ Kesar waved his arm over the ruins of Trophinamon.

  ‘If it stops the madness, then yes. And it was madness. You never had a chance.’ Trayx stopped, gripped his friend’s shoulder. ‘Why did you even try? You could have stepped down, and kept your honour intact.’

  Kesar shook the hand from his shoulder. ‘Honour – that’s what it comes down to with you, isn’t it? Honour and the Republic. What about friendship? What about dreams?’

  ‘What about morals, about what is right?’ Trayx countered angrily.

  ‘We subjugate a thousand worlds in an obscure sector in the name of the Republic – is that right?’ Kesar shook his head. ‘It is all madness, you know. All of it. There’s no such thing as honour, no such thing as right. There is only you and me amid the ruins, arguing over the might-have-beens.’ He kicked at the shattered remains of a VETAC trooper. ‘And now the dream is over.’ He looked up at Trayx, his mouth curled into a half-smile and his eyes full of tears.

  Trayx stared into Kesar’s eyes, saw the dream fade. Then he pulled his friend to him and they embraced, each feeling the other’s sobs through the heavy armour. After a while they separated. Each took a step back, and saluted the other.

  ‘I’ll see you at the trial,’ Trayx said. Then he turned and walked away, into the dying smoke of the battle.

  The trial of Hans Kesar lasted less than a week. Despite the huge popular support he still enjoyed, the verdict was never in question. Kesar’s defence had been that the Haddron Republic needed him – it needed his strength of character, it needed his charismatic popularity, it needed his understanding of the big picture if it was to survive. The irony that the Republic was in more serious danger of splitting apart because of Kesar’s actions and the massively destructive civil war he had instigated was not lost on the prosecutor.

  Kesar stood straight and proud together with his surviving officers to hear the sentence. The dilemma now facing the victorious forces was that to have Kesar executed would be to make a martyr of him – either immediately or in the near future as times got worse. Kesar smiled as he heard what fate had in store for him – he could identify the combination of Trayx’s strategic thinking and Rutger’s feeling for acceptable compromise in the sentence. And he also recognised and appreciated the compassion of his friends.

  The forensic analysis that followed the explosion showed that a quantity of Zenon VII had been mixed with the combustible material. It was this that fuelled the intense heat of the fireball as well as giving it the distinctive orange colour. But it was the sound that Trayx remembered.

  Kesar was led out first, flanked on either side by a detail of VETAC troopers. The remains of his headquarters staff and field personnel followed a short way behind. As Kesar reached the
final bend of the corridor, as he turned the corner so that the doorway that led out of the Senate Building was within sight, the wall caught fire.

  The explosive compound had been painted thickly on to both corridor walls. A radio frequency pulse triggered the blast, passing a current through tiny filaments etched into the paint. The sound was like a gunshot rattling and ricocheting down the passageway as the filaments ignited the compound. The walls blistered with the heat and then exploded outward in a startling display of orange light.

  The VETACs either side of Kesar were engulfed by the fire, their armour dripping off their burning bodies as they collapsed in flames. But their bodies shielded Kesar from the worst effects of the blast. He lay face down as the fireball rolled over him and burst out through the outer doorway. The corridor was angled such that almost all of the blast was channelled away from the others and towards the outside.

  Trayx was at Kesar’s side in a moment, pushing his way through the screaming, shouting people who struggled and fought in the confused corridor. Rutger was close behind him as Trayx knelt beside the body. He reached down, feeling the heat from Kesar’s scorched uniform. The hair was blackened and shrivelled on the back of Kesar’s head as Trayx slowly turned the body over.

  Rutger drew in his breath sharply as the blistered, ruined face rolled into view.

  Trayx clasped the charred form to his chest, rocking backwards and forwards as he cradled his friend in his arms. Rutger slowly sank to his knees beside them. Their sobs echoed along the blackened corridor.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE GAME OF DEATH

  THE PIECES WERE of frosted glass, slightly rough to the touch. The board was a slab of white marble, the black squares hewn from onyx and crafted flawlessly into the surface. The older man watched his opponent closely. His thin fingers stroked a short white beard. The light from the lanterns around the walls made the cracks and lines of his face seem deeper than they really were. Cruger was a man whose features were old before their time, though he was still fit and healthy. His mind was every bit as sharp and calculating as it had ever been as he watched his opponent slowly move a piece across the board.