Heirs of Empire fe-3

by David Weber

  * * *

  “No.”

  “But, Colin—”

  “I said no, ’Hursag, and I meant it.”

  Ninhursag sat back and puffed her lips in frustration. She and Hector sat in the imperial family’s personal quarters facing Colin and a Jiltanith whose figure had changed radically over the past few months. Tsien Tao-ling, Amanda, Adrienne Robbins, and Gerald Hatcher attended by hologram, and their expressions mirrored Ninhursag’s.

  “ ’Hursag’s right, Colin,” Hatcher said. “If the bomb’s not on Narhan, it’s almost certainly here. It’s the only thing that makes sense, given our estimate of Mister X’s past actions.”

  “I agree.” Colin nodded, yet his tone didn’t yield a centimeter. “But I’m not going to have myself evacuated when millions of other people can’t do the same thing.”

  “I’m only asking you to make a state visit to Earth!” Ninhursag snapped. “For Maker’s sake, Colin, what are you trying to prove? Go to Earth and stay there till we find the damned thing!”

  “If you find it,” Colin shot back. “And I’m not going to do it.”

  “The people would understand, Colin,” Tsien said quietly.

  “I’m not thinking about public relations here!” Colin’s voice was harsh. “I’m talking about abandoning millions of civilians to save my own skin, and I won’t do it.”

  “Colin, you are being foolish,” Dahak put in.

  “So sue me!”

  “If I believed it would change your mind, I would do just that,” the computer replied. “As it will not, I can only appeal to the good sense which, upon rare occasion, you have exhibited in the past.”

  “Not this time,” Colin said flatly, and Jiltanith squeezed his hand.

  “Colin, there’s something neither ’Hursag nor Dahak have pointed out,” Amanda said. “If, in fact, Mister X killed the kids, and if he’s the one who has the bomb, and if he’s put it on Birhat, then you and ’Tanni are the reason. If you’re not here, there’s no point in his setting the thing off. By that standard, your moving to Earth might be the one thing that would keep him from detonating it before we find it.”

  “Amanda raises a most cogent point,” Dahak agreed, and Colin frowned.

  “Both Dahak and Amanda are correct,” Tsien pressed as he sensed Colin weakening. “You are the Imperium’s head of state, responsible for protecting the continuity of government and the succession, and if you and Jiltanith are ‘Mister X’s’ targets, you may provoke him into action by remaining on Birhat.”

  “First,” Colin said, “you’re assuming he has some means of setting this thing off at will. To do that, he’d have to have someone here to transmit a firing order, which would just happen to kill whoever transmitted it. I’m willing to concede that he might have set up a patsy without telling the sucker what would happen, but Mister X himself certainly won’t sit around on ground zero. That means he’d have to get the firing order to his patsy by hypercom, and ’Hursag and Dahak are monitoring all hypercom traffic. It’s still possible he could sneak something past us, but, frankly, I doubt he’d risk it. I think the means of detonation are already in place with a specific timetable.”

  “I could take half of Battle Fleet through the holes in that logic,” Adrienne said grimly.

  “Maybe. I think it’s valid, but you may have a point—which brings me to my second point. You’re right about protecting the succession and the continuity of government, Tao-ling, but I don’t have to go to Earth for that.”

  “Nay, my love!” Jiltanith’s voice was sharp. “I like not thy words—nay, nor thy thought, either!”

  “Maybe not, but Tao-ling’s right, and so am I. One of us has to stay, ’Tanni. We can’t just run out on our people. But if we send you to Earth, we protect both the government and the succession.”

  Jiltanith looked into his face for a moment, pressing a hand against her swollen abdomen, and her eyes were dark.

  “Colin,” she said very quietly, “already have I lost two babes. Wouldst make these yet unborn the pretext for my loss of thee, as well?”

  “No,” he said softly. His left hand captured hers, and he cupped her face in his right. “I don’t intend to die, ’Tanni. But if there’s any chance Mister X will hold his detonation schedule unless he can get both of us, then one of us has got to go. All right, I’m selfish enough to be glad of an excuse to get you out of the danger zone and protect you. I admit that. But you’re pregnant, ’Tanni. Even if I do die, the succession is safe as long as you’re alive. I’m sorry, babe, but it’s your duty to go.”

  “ ‘Duty.’ ‘Protect.’ ” The words were a harsh, ugly curse in her lovely mouth. “Oh, how dearly have those words cost me o’er the centuries!”

  “I know.” He closed his eyes and drew her close, hugging her fiercely while their friends watched, and one hand stroked her raven’s-wing hair. “I know,” he whispered. “Neither of us asked for the job, but we’ve got it, love. Now we’ve got to do it. Please, ’Tanni. Don’t fight me on this.”

  “Did it offer chance o’ victory, then would I fight thee to the end,” she said into his shoulder, and her voice was bleak. “Yet thou’rt what thou art, and I—I am duty’s slave, and for duty’s sake and the lives I bear within I will not fight thee. But know this, Colin MacIntyre. The day these babes draw breath do I leave them in Father’s care and return hither, and not thou nor all the power of thy crown will stop me then.”

  * * *

  “Jiltanith’s coming early?” Lawrence Jefferson said. Horus nodded, and the Lieutenant Governor frowned. “Is something going on I should know about?”

  “Going on?” Horus raised his eyebrows.

  “Look, Horus, I know Jiltanith’s planned all along for these children to be born on Earth, but she’s not due for another month. Where she goes and what she does is her business, not mine, but I am Security Minister as well as Lieutenant Governor, and the Sword of God’s still mighty active. Don’t forget that bomb they planted right here in our own mat-trans facility! I wish she’d stay on Birhat where it’s safe, but if she won’t, I’m responsible for backing up her Marine security while she’s here. So if there’s any reason I should be thinking in terms of additional precautions, I’d like to know it.”

  “I think her security’s more than adequate, Lawrence,” Horus said after a moment. “I appreciate your concern, but this is just a daughter visiting her father. She’ll be safe enough here inside White Tower.”

  “If you say so.” Jefferson sighed. “Well, in that case, I should get busy. When, exactly, is she arriving?”

  “Next Wednesday. You’ll have almost a week to make any arrangements you think are necessary.”

  “That’s good, anyway,” Jefferson said dryly.

  He left, and Horus sat gazing down at his blotter. Damn it, Lawrence was right. He was Security Minister, and he should be warned, but Ninhursag was adamant on maintaining strict need-to-know security on Mister X, and Colin backed her totally. Horus pursed his lips, then shook his head and made a mental note to buttonhole Colin for one more try to get Lawrence onto the cleared list when the Assembly of Nobles met week after next on Birhat.

  * * *

  Jefferson settled into his old-fashioned swivel chair and clenched his jaw. Damn the bitch! He’d gone to all this trouble to get her, Colin, Horus, Hatcher, and Tsien onto the same bull’s-eye, and she had to decide to visit Daddy! Why couldn’t she stay home on Birhat where she was safe from terrorists?

  He swore again, then inhaled deeply and made himself relax. All right, it wasn’t the end of the world. He couldn’t change the timing on the detonation, but as he’d just told Horus, he was responsible for backing up her security detachment whenever she visited Earth. It shouldn’t be too hard to arrange the right sort of backup. Sloppy, yes, and with the potential risk of pointing a finger at him after she was dead, but the operative point was that she—and the rest of them—would be dead by the time anyone started asking questions. He’d already set up a
n in-depth defense against such questions, and with Ninhursag killed along with the others, Security Minister Lawrence Jefferson would be the one responsible for answering them. Better still, he could probably make it look like a Sword of God operation, and with the Narhani branded with responsibility for the bomb and the Sword with responsibility for Jiltanith’s assassination, he’d have all sorts of threats to justify whatever “temporary” special powers he chose to assume, now wouldn’t he?

  He smiled thinly and nodded. All right, Your Majesty. You just come on home to Earth. I’ll arrange a special homecoming for you.

  * * *

  “Got those mat-trans logs you wanted, Ma’am.”

  Ninhursag looked up as Fleet Commander Steinberg entered her office. The newly promoted commander handed over the massive folio of datachips, but her face wore a thoughtful frown, and Ninhursag cocked an eyebrow at her.

  “Something on your mind, Commander?”

  “Well…” Steinberg shrugged. “I’m sorry, Ma’am. I know I’m not cleared for everything, but this—” she gestured to the folio “—seems like a pretty peculiar, ah, line of inquiry for the head of ONI to handle personally. I know I’m not supposed to ask questions, but I’m afraid I haven’t quite figured out how to turn my curiosity off on cue.”

  “A serious flaw in an intelligence officer.” Ninhursag’s voice was severe, but her eyes smiled, and she waved at a chair. “Sit, Commander.”

  Steinberg sank into the indicated chair and folded her hands in her lap. She looked like a uniformed high school student waiting for a pop quiz, but Ninhursag reminded herself this was the ice-cold interrogator who’d gotten them the break that proved the bomb’s existence. Commander Steinberg had been a major asset ever since her transfer to Birhat, and Ninhursag had already added her to her mental list of possible successors to take over at ONI when she stepped down in another century or two. She had no intention of telling Steinberg that, but perhaps it was time to bring her up to speed on Mister X and see what her talents could do to push the bomb search here on Birhat.

  “You’re right, Esther,” she said after a moment. “It is a peculiar thing to ask for, but I’ve got a rather peculiar reason for wanting it. And since you can’t turn your curiosity off, I think you’ve just talked yourself into a new job.” She flipped the folio back to Steinberg, and smiled at the commander’s look of surprise. “You’re now in charge of analyzing these for me, Commander, but before you start, let me tell you a little story. You’ve already played a not so minor part in it yourself, even if you didn’t know it.”

  She tipped her chair back, and though her voice remained whimsical, her expression was anything but.

  “Once upon a time,” she began, “there was a person named Mister X. He wasn’t a very nice person, and…”

  * * *

  “Good to see you, ’Tanni. Maker, you look wonderful!”

  “Art a poor liar, Father.” Jiltanith smiled and returned Horus’ hug while Tinker Bell’s pups lolled on the rug at their feet. “Say rather that I do most resemble a blimp, and thou wouldst speak but truth!”

  “But I always liked blimps,” her father said with a grin. “Zeppelins were nicer, though. Did I ever tell you I was aboard the Hindenburg for her first transatlantic crossing in 1936? Didn’t appear on the manifest, because I was hiding from Anu at the time, but I was there. Won eight hundred dollars at poker during the crossing.” He shook his head. “Now there was a civilized way to travel! I was always glad I wasn’t at Lakehurst in ’37.”

  “Nay, Father, thou didst not tell me, yet now I think upon it, ’twould be the sort of thing thou wouldst like.”

  “Yes.” He sighed and his smile faded. “You know, despite all the terrible things I’ve seen in my life, I’ll always be glad I’ve seen so much. Not many of us get the chance to watch an entire planet discover the universe.”

  “No,” she said, and his eyes darkened and fell at the involuntary bitterness that cored the single, soft word.

  ” ’Tanni,” he said quietly, “I’m sorry. I know—”

  “Hush, Father.” She pressed her fingers to his mouth. “Forgive me. ’Tis only being sent to ‘safety’ once more maketh my tongue so bitter.” She smiled sadly. “Well do I know thou didst the best thou couldst. ’Twas not our fate to live the lives we longed to live.”

  “But—”

  “Nay, Father. Say it not. Words change naught after so many years.” She smiled again, and shook her head. “Now am I weary, and by thy mercy will I seek my bed.”

  “Of course, ’Tanni.” He hugged her again and watched her leave the room, then walked to the window and stared sightlessly out over Shepard Center. She would never truly forgive him, he thought. She couldn’t, any more than he could blame her for it, but she was right. He’d done the best he could.

  Tears burned, and he wiped them angrily. All those years. Those millennia while she’d slept in stasis. He and the rest of Nergal’s crew had rotated themselves in and out of stasis, using it to spin their own lives out beyond mortal imagination in their war against Anu, yet he hadn’t been able to let her do the same. He’d kept her in stasis, for he’d been unable not to, and his weakness was his deepest shame. Yet he’d lost too much, given too much, to change it. Her mother had never escaped from the original mutiny aboard Dahak, and he’d almost lost ’Tanni, as well, when her child’s mind broke under the horrors of that blood-soaked day.

  No, he told himself bitterly, he had lost that child that day. When one of his own Terra-born granddaughters managed to heal her, somehow, she’d been someone else, someone who’d survived only by walling herself off utterly from the broken person she once had been. A person who never again spoke Universal, but only the fifteenth-century English she’d learned. One who never, ever again called him “Poppa,” but only “Father.”

  He’d been unable to risk that person again, unable to bring himself to lose her twice, and so, against her will, he’d sent her back into stasis and kept her there another five hundred years, until Nergal’s dwindling manpower forced him to release her from it. He’d turned her into a symbol, his defiant challenge to the universe which had taken all he loved. He … would … not … lose … her … again!

  And so he hadn’t. He’d kept her safe, and in doing so, he’d robbed her of so much. Of the foster mother who’d saved her mind, of her chance to fight by his side for all those centuries—of her right to live her own life on her own terms. He knew, knew to the depths of his soul, how unspeakably lucky he was that, somehow, she’d learned to love him once more when he finally did release her. It was a reward his selfish cowardice could never deserve, and, oh Maker of Grace and Mercy, he was so proud of her. Yet he could never undo what he’d done, and of all the bitter regrets of his endless life, that knowledge was the bitterest of all.

  Planetary Duke Horus closed his eyes and inhaled sharply, then shook himself and walked slowly from his daughter’s apartment in silence.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  “Got a second, Ma’am?”

  Esther Steinberg stood in the door of Ninhursag’s office once more, and Ninhursag’s eyebrows rose in surprise. It was the middle of the night, and Steinberg had been off duty for hours. But then she frowned. The commander was in civvies, and from the looks of things she’d dressed in a hurry.

  “Of course I do. What’s on your mind?”

  Steinberg stepped inside the door and waited for it to close behind her before she spoke.

  “It’s those mat-trans records, Ma’am.”

  “What about them? I thought you and Dahak cleared all of them.”

  “We did, Ma’am. We found a couple of small anomalies, but we tracked those down, and aside from that, everything was right on the money.”

  “So?”

  “I guess it’s just that curiosity bump again, Ma’am, but I haven’t been able to get them out of my mind.” Steinberg smiled crookedly. “I’ve been going back over them on my own time, and, well, I’ve found a new discrepancy
.”

  “One Dahak missed?” Ninhursag couldn’t keep from sounding skeptical.

  “No, Ma’am. A new discrepancy.”

  “New?” Ninhursag jerked upright in her chair. “What d’you mean, ‘new,’ Esther?”

  “You know we’ve been pulling regular updates on the mat-trans logs ever since you put me on the project?” Ninhursag nodded impatiently, and Steinberg shrugged. “Well, I started playing with the data—more out of frustration at not finding any answers than anything else—and I had my personal computer run a check for anomalies within the database. Any sort of conflict between downloads from the mat-trans computers on a generational basis, as well as a pure content one.”

  “And?”

  “I just finished the last one, Ma’am, and one of the log entries in my original download doesn’t match the version in the most recent one.”

  “What?” Ninhursag frowned again. “What do you mean, ‘doesn’t match’?”

  “I mean, Ma’am, that according to the mat-trans facility records, I have two different logs with precisely the same time and date stamp, both completely official by every test I can run, that say two different things. It’s only a small variation, but it shouldn’t be there.”

  “Corrupted data?” Ninhursag murmured, and Steinberg shook her head.

  “No, Ma’am. Different data. That’s why I came straight over.” Her mouth tightened in a firm line. “I may be paranoid, Admiral, but the only reason I can think of for the difference is that between the time we pulled the first log and the time we got the latest update, someone changed the entry. And under the circumstances, I thought I should tell you. Fast.”

  * * *

  “Esther’s right,” Ninhursag said grimly. She and the commander sat in Colin’s Palace office. Steinberg looked acutely uncomfortable at being in such close proximity to her Emperor, but she met Colin’s searching look squarely as he rubbed his bristly chin. “I double-checked her work, and so did Dahak. Someone definitely changed the entry, and that, Colin, took someone with a hell of a lot of juice.”