When Renata Darracott originally came to Esterkeep as an inexperienced politician from Odessa, Leo was one of the first people she encountered. As others looked down on her as a rustic from a backwater planet, he befriended her, helped her learn the ways of the capital, and introduced her to people— including a dashing admiral named Victor Polanco. When Polanco seized control of the government, she was appointed as Prime Minister. While others whispered their doubts behind her back, Leonardo Sanchez supported her without reservation. They had their differences following Victor’s death, but she had never stopped adoring the short bald man with the neatly trimmed mustache.
Now, not only was Leo gone, but there were hidden political consequences as well. Five months of negotiations and planning with the Reformist leader had been destroyed. Who knew if the next opposition party leader would be receptive to working with her, or if she even had time to pursue new negotiations? The window on her ability to accomplish anything was closing fast.
“Gentlemen,” Ardith Flood spoke up. “Her Majesty is concerned that someone acted to remove Admiral Sanchez in order to cause disarray within the Reformist Movement.” Flood had learned how to play this game well. With her pale skin and short-cropped bleached hair, it was almost as if Renata had a twin at every meeting. The effect on guests had to be unnerving.
Having just earned the ire of the Empress, Preiss chose his words carefully. “Being a simple policeman, I am not as schooled in the world of politics as all of you. However, Colonel, it seems to me that you allude to a possible plot originating from within the government.”
“The Colonel and I allude to nothing specific, Superintendent,” stated Renata. “I simply want to make sure that a complete and transparent investigation is conducted. This inquiry cannot seem to be a government cover-up. Besides, if Admiral Sanchez was murdered, I want his murderer brought to justice. Leo and I were friends—once.” She had still not revealed her secret talks with Sanchez to anyone—not even Flood or Boyer. Having a complete investigation risked uncovering the clandestine video conferences, but it was a risk she was willing to take.
Bennett Boyer stirred in his seat. “You have been quiet, Director.”
“Well, Professor, I haven’t been asked anything,” said Tolbert, invoking the Chief of Staff’s nickname.
Boyer smiled. “All right, I’m asking.”
Tolbert clasped his hands behind his back and stood straighter, a man ready to make his case. “It is the opinion of the OMI that this was an act of terrorism.”
“I think I know where this is going,” said Renata, “but do continue, Director.”
“The Committee of Nine is almost certainly involved,” he said, much to the exasperation of the others in the room. Flood moaned as Professor Boyer rolled his eyes. Preiss looked toward the ceiling, and Renata raised both eyebrows and pressed her lips together. The only other person in the room was Captain Vickery, Flood’s second-in-command. Standing at parade rest near the door, Vickery showed no reaction, although he probably would if he could.
Tolbert had been touting the dangers of what OMI called the Committee of Nine for years now. A shadowy organization dedicated to the overthrow of the Sarissan government, Tolbert had produced just enough evidence to prove that the group did indeed exist, but not sufficient intelligence to show that they were any more than a small band of fringe radicals.
“Director, with due respect,” said Preiss. “Each time a child scrapes their knee, the OMI is prepared to lay blame on this mysterious cabal of yours.”
“Assassination falls completely within their methods. We know they assassinated the Vice-Governor of Basara only four months ago.”
“We know no such thing,” countered Preiss. “The man died of in groundcar accident.”
“A groundcar accident in Basara, a helicraft accident in Quijano—murder is murder,” the Director asserted.
“The Nine,” said Flood. “Director, who leads this organization? Who are the Nine in the Committee of Nine?”
Tolbert was flustered. For all of his intelligence agency’s hard work, they had yet to pin down the culprits. “Roman Zevkov was almost certainly one of them, or at least he was before he departed to colonize that planet of his. The Nine are a group of industrialists, politicians, and certain members of the military I suspect.”
“You suspect,” said Preiss dubiously.
Tolbert tried his best to ignore the Superintendent, speaking directly to the Empress. “Ma’am, I have some of our best operatives working on this right now. The Committee of Nine’s goal is obvious—to spread instability and incite the fall of the government. With his death, Leonardo Sanchez will now be a martyr, and the Reformists will use his death to grow their movement and further challenge Imperial authority.”
“Your Majesty,” interrupted Bennett Boyer. “I fear there may be some truth to the Director’s analysis. Reports are already coming in of demonstrations in various Quijano cities. It doesn’t take much to turn public grief into public discord.”
Tolbert pressed his case. “Majesty, I know my job. Believe me when I tell you that this group is an active threat to your government.”
Renata crossed her arms and frowned. “And yet, Director, in all the time you have been raising the alarm about this supposed threat, the OMI has been unable to eliminate them. To my knowledge, you haven’t even captured one of their people, at least nobody alive and available for questioning.”
Her old friend hesitated, glancing over at Preiss then back to Renata. “I believe this group is receiving assistance from someone within the government. It is the only way they could repeatedly stay just ahead of us.”
Preiss plainly took the Director’s words as an accusation. “Are you suggesting that the SSB has something to do with this?”
“Someone does. Over the past two years my agents have been on the verge of …”
“Perhaps your agents are not as capable as—”
“Enough!” bellowed Renata, striking a fist into the arm of her chair.
Both men quieted and stood silently, eyes downcast.
“This arguing is pointless,” she said to the pair, letting a harsh stare and a few seconds of silence seal her admonishment. “Director, I thank you as always for your input. Before you leave the Manor, please spend a few minutes with Professor Boyer and fill him in on any more details that you might have. And, Director…”
Tolbert looked up to face her.
“Find me those people.”
Tolbert and Boyer bowed and made their way to the door. Superintendent Preiss started to leave as well.
“Mr. Preiss, I have not given you permission to withdraw.”
Renata cringed inside every time she said something like that, but one of the things Flood and Boyer had encouraged her to do as Empress was to enforce royal protocol. Boyer once told her, “You’re no longer just a politician, you are a monarch. Act the role!”
Renata moved to the chair next to Flood. With a more relaxed demeanor, she urged Preiss to pull up a seat in front of them.
“Mr. Preiss, I cannot overemphasize the importance of the investigation into Leonardo Sanchez’s death. I want your best inspectors on this. Send in a team from Sarissa if you have to.”
Preiss shook his head. “Ma’am, with respect, I will not be doing that.”
Renata was surprised at his flat out refusal, and her face must have shown it. Preiss leaned forward to make a point.
“I have found that sending a team from Sarissa to another world causes discord and undermines morale in the local constabularies. Quijano has some very capable investigators. I have ordered that one of our best, Inspector Randa, be put on the case. Also, she is a Quijanan, which should play well with the locals.”
“Randa,” said Flood. “Where do I know that name from?”
“Is this Rachel Randa?” asked Renata as Preiss gave her a nod. “She was one of your predecessors, Colonel. Rachel was on First Consul Polanco’s security team while I was Prime Minister.
In fact, she was with us that day… The day Victor was assassinated.”
Randa had been in the security detail that fateful afternoon at Century Stadium when Victor Polanco was gunned down. Renata would be dead too if it hadn’t been for Randa and the other security team members. After the incident, all of the surviving bodyguards were replaced and transferred off Sarissa.
“Ma’am,” said Preiss, bringing her back to the present. “With respect, if I may.” The Superintendent produced a small electronic gadget from the inside pocket of his suit coat—a bug-finder. Activating the device, he held it above his head for a moment before checking the instrument for results. Having swept the room for hidden listening devices, he was satisfied enough to proceed.
“Mr. Preiss, we would not use your words against you,” said Renata.
“It is not you that gives me pause, ma’am,” he said, then flashed a look toward Flood. “Nor you, Colonel.”
Flood favored him with a crooked smile and a slight bow of the head. Ardith Flood was always amused by the ways of Haywood Preiss, as were many people. The man’s overly formal dress, the white gloves, his sometimes-curious speech—it was like dealing with someone from the distant past.
“I must confide in you both that these days I find myself walking a fine line.”
“What line is that, Superintendent?” asked Flood.
“My duty to the Crown and my duty to the Directorate.” By the Directorate, he certainly meant Channa Maxon. “The SSB is increasingly coming under the scrutiny and the influence of the Supreme Commander and her associates within the Ministry of Culture.”
“As is every ministry in the government,” said Flood.
“And on every world in the Empire,” added Preiss. “With each day that passes, my local sections are being compromised. On Arethusa, on Gerrha—every planet of the realm. It is an epidemic.”
Renata nodded. “You’re not the only one, Superintendent. I had this same conversation with Director Tolbert only last week.” She had been receiving similar reports from other Ministry chiefs as well. “Have you spoken to Minister Kelly?”
Preiss gave a cynical smile. “I fear that my superior is more part of the problem than the solution.” Home Minister Benjamin Kelly was the perfect stooge for Channa Maxon and her friends. He was a lifelong bureaucrat who was sitting a year from retirement and a fat pension. The Minister was a short-timer not apt to cause trouble, let alone stick his neck out for someone else. Preiss was correct—he would get no help from the Home Minister.
“How are your people being compromised?” asked Renata.
“Inspectors and supervisors are being bribed, bullied, sometimes blackmailed—mostly bribed.”
“That’s something I don’t understand,” said Flood shifting forward to the edge of her seat. “There seems to be a lot of bribery going on, but the Treasury is still fairly clean. Where are Maxon and her people getting all the bribery money from if they aren’t looting the tax coffers?”
“Ah,” said Preiss, looking like a man with a secret to share. “There are taxes and there are taxes. Some of my people and I wondered the same thing, and I believe we have found the answer.” As the two women looked expectantly at him, he raised his left hand and pointed upward.
“Arisugawa Starport,” he said. “Over sixty-percent of the goods coming from off-world to Sarissa move through Arisugawa before they make their way to the surface. When they do, customs are paid—an enormous amount of customs each day.”
“Of course,” said Renata. “She’s not messing with the Treasury here in Esterkeep—that would be tricky. They might get caught with their hands in the cookie jar.”
“Much easier and safer to skim from the point of origin,” said Preiss with a sly grin. “There is only one small problem—I can’t prove any of this. So far, my people haven’t figured out exactly how they are doing it.”
At last, something might go her way. She had been looking for a weapon to use against Channa Maxon, and the Superintendent might supply her with one. If she could prove Maxon and her friends at Culture were involved in pilfering tax monies, some people on the Directorate and in the Space Force might be willing to stand up and force her out.
“Superintendent, why are you sharing this with us?” asked Renata. “Needless to say, you are taking a huge risk.”
Preiss tilted his head to one side as he considered a response. “I know both of you think it humorous when I describe myself as a simple policeman, but at heart, that is exactly what I wish to be. Crimes are being committed here, and in this case, crimes against people in my own agency, people that I am responsible for.” For the first time she had known him, Renata thought she detected a surge of emotion running under the Superintendent’s cool exterior. “I refuse to stand by and do nothing.
“Also, if I may make a further observation, Majesty. Both you and Fleet Admiral Maxon come from planets in which the living conditions are, shall we say—unforgiving. You from Odessa, a world of cold and ice and the Fleet Admiral from Tezrina, a desert world of burning sands. Both of you grew up in humble and challenging circumstances. You saw those around you suffer from the exacting environments of your worlds, and the even harsher cruelty of how humans treat each other when there is not enough to go around.
“Both of you learned how to survive on those brutal planets, but it seems to me that the two of you learned very different lessons. Channa Maxon endures by pushing others down and climbing over them. Renata Darracott, on the other hand, seems to excel when lifting others up. I prefer your example, Majesty,” he said, smiling as he finished his thought. “And forgive me for being so bold.”
“Mr. Preiss, we need all the boldness we can get right now. Thank you for your faith in me. I hope I won’t let you down.”
“So do I, Majesty,” he said with a pointed smile.
“Keep me apprised in regard to the Sanchez investigation, and on that other business as well.”
After Preiss departed, it was just her and Flood alone in the largest room in the house. Aside from her husband, Karl, Renata had come to think of the Colonel as her closest confidant. She had even secretly pulled legal strings to make Flood her adopted sister. The younger woman had used a false name to enlist in the army, and if that ever caught up with her, Renata’s preemptive legal maneuver would protect her. It was still a secret, something that only she, Flood, and Bennett Boyer knew about. May the Many Gods help me. I’m collecting so many secrets I have trouble remembering who knows what…
“What do you think?” the Empress asked. “Can we trust Preiss?”
Flood considered the question. “He seems sincere, but then again, he could be setting us up. Who knows—he might be one of them.”
“Them?”
“The ubiquitous Committee of Nine! Mwahahaha!” Flood said in a mock scary voice.
“All right, all right,” laughed Renata. “The Director does seem a little single-minded these days, but he was right about one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“For all his faults, Jason Tolbert knows his business. If the Director says there is smoke, I’m willing to believe there is a fire. You know, if we can keep both Tolbert and Preiss on our side, we just might have a shot at pushing Channa Maxon out.”
“I suppose,” said Flood. “OMI, SSB… They have their own agendas. It wouldn’t hurt to have some of our own folks sniffing around out there as well—Kaskian Guard people, I mean.”
“That’s all we need, yet another intelligence agency with yet another agenda.”
“Perhaps you’re right. Besides, I’m more worried about the people who are directly around us here at Koenig Manor. Since the Investiture, your personal and household staffs have grown significantly. The Ministry of Culture is constantly trying to plant their people around us. Ume Yamazaki herself wants to set up an office here in the Manor. I keep pushing back.”
Renata fumed at the mention of the Deputy Minister of Culture—who also happened to be Channa Maxon’s lover. “W
hy wasn’t I told about that?”
“You were,” said Flood with a deadpan expression. “Several times.”
Renata snorted. “No way in hell that woman is working under my roof. You make sure those people understand that, Colonel.”
The two rose as Flood mentioned it was time for the Empress’s next appointment. “Regarding the death of Leonardo Sanchez,” said Flood. “You know, it really could have been just an accident.”
She had considered that possibility. An even deeper fear nagged at Renata Darracott, however. It concerned the secret conferencing between her and Leo Sanchez during the past several months. Did someone find out? Perhaps somebody discovered their plans and disapproved. She was trying to use Leo Sanchez to achieve her political goals, and he was doing the same. In the end, however, a frightening question remained—did she unwittingly cause her dear friend to be murdered?
9: Summit
Sarissan cruiser Tempest
Approaching Epsilon Hydrae
It was a matter of striking just the right tone.
“We come in peace on behalf of Humankind.” Too clichéd.
“I am Charles Pettigrew, and I bring greetings and solicitations from the people of Sarissa.” Not quite right.
“All right—we’re here. What the hell do you want?” Much better.
Chaz Pettigrew had been practicing for weeks, considering what his first words to the representatives of an alien race should be. The aliens probably weren’t going to comprehend whatever sounds came out of his mouth, so the precise wording didn’t really matter. Dr. Richmond from the Space Force Special Projects Division and a team of three xenolinguists were aboard, but it would be up to Pettigrew to attempt initial contact. Actions were going to be more important than words. The mere fact that they were meeting an alien species would be historic and only the beginning of a long journey. Generations might pass before there was any real understanding between the two cultures, if it ever happened.
Two weeks earlier the hibernating portion of the crew had been awakened from the Chill. Their bodies needed time to adjust from being in hypersleep, time to get their space legs back under them. In addition, Captain Nyondo wanted to put the crew through their paces before the translation back into normal space, so she had been drilling them in anticipation of Tempest’s arrival at Epsilon Hydrae, a.k.a. Summit.
Keeper of the Sun (Starhold Series Book 3) Page 8