Captain Lazarus walked through the stone archway, placing a light kiss on the oathstone before entering. He felt the distinct pull of inferiority that he always felt in the presence of witchcraft. Jenther had been his brother-warrior in service of their world for centuries and still he could not consider himself, a mere human, to be the equal of someone blessed enough to carry the blood of the Ashtari within his holy veins.
“There are some things that even time cannot overcome,” Lazarus decided.
It had been of little surprise when the Marshal had specifically prohibited the Angelus’ craft-user from attending the gathering. Jenther had taken the insult as he always took it, with quiet dignity. There was a part of Lazarus that could understand Jenther’s feelings, for he knew intimately what it was meant to serve an unloving and unloved master and yet, there was another part of him that understood the necessity of such treatment.
Lazarus walked over to his brother-in-arms and held out his open hand, which contained three cloth fibers that he had deftly plucked from the Marshal and two of the Priestesses.
“If you are wrong, then you may have defiled their purity needlessly,” Jenther warned as he snatched the threads out of his hand by an invisible force, causing Lazarus to jerk his arm back in surprise. One by one the threads drifted down into the fire, causing it to flare up in bright shifting colors of orange and green.
Only when the fire died down again did Jenther open his eyes, letting out an audible sigh.
“The threads are not counterfeit, they are true,” he said, disappointed.
Lazarus sighed as well.
“A hunch is a dangerous thing,” Jenther explained. “It possesses neither Joyta’s clarity, nor Jalet’s purity. You should not have acted without substantiation, but still, eliminating this possibility has not quieted the shadow in my mind as it should have.”
Lazarus nodded. There were so many things that did not add up. Marshals and Priestesses simply didn’t act this way. He would have to be extremely careful from this point on.
“Even asleep, the presence of these ship-sized aliens is crippling my vision, but I will try as best I can,” Jenther explained as he threw another scroll into the fire.
Chapter Forty-Three
Questions and Answers
Only a fool knows neither regret nor impurity.
-Anonymous
A few hours later, the doors to the cell bay opened silently. From his position huddled in the corner, Rochestri watched Inami enter. She walked lazily over to the faint wall of blue energy that separated his cell from the rest of the bay.
“Hello, Rochi-sama,” Inami greeted cheerfully. “You look well. I hope that Ami has been taking good care of our little guest.”
The Marshal did not acknowledge her; instead he only rubbed at the faint pink line on his wrist where his hand had been re-attached. In his mind, there was no reason to talk to Inami. Despite several bizarre interrogation sessions that seemed to involve little more than being forced to watch his jailers bicker with each other, he had given them no information, therefore, Inami did not possess any information that was a threat to him, nor was he in a position to get any information he required from her. She was a blank, a zero, and so he ignored her.
Inami held up a bowl of fruit that she was carrying with her and extended her arm effortlessly through the barrier, as if to offer him some.
“Terran cherries. Quite a delicacy,” she boasted. “Of course, they don’t grow on Terra anymore. Nothing does, thanks to men like you. We got these from a nearby farming colony, where some of the farmers have orchards of them.” Inami pulled her arm back through the barrier and popped one of the cherries into her mouth.
“Mmmm, yummy,” Inami said to herself, pulling a chair over and sitting down in front of his cell.
“Ami tells me that you won’t eat any of the food she’s made for you. She also says that you refuse to sleep in your bed and instead just sit there in the corner like that.”
Unconsciously Rochestri glanced over at the frilly pink bed sheets his jailer had made for his bed and reaffirmed his decision to sleep on the floor.
“You shouldn’t hurt Ami’s feelings like that, you know? If you keep this up, it’ll make me look bad. What are people going to say about the way I treat my guests?”
Rochestri lifted up his head and spit at Inami. His spittle hit the barrier near her face and slid down its nearly invisible surface, leaving a wet trail behind it.
“She also said you have really gross habits,” Inami commented as she threw another cherry into her mouth indignantly. Rochestri looked at her and noticed with some irritation that she was wearing his armor and long coat. He also noticed that her cheeks were a little flushed.
“She has been drinking,” he thought to himself. In his mind Inami changed from a blank to slightly useful, as her diminished mental faculties would make it possible to extract reliable information from her.
“I suppose you killed the farmers to get those cherries, traitor?” Rochestri accused carefully, watching her response to determine her level of control. Inami eyed him sideways before responding.
“Don’t be silly. We’re not like you. We paid them for these.” Inami popped another cherry in her mouth, but puckered from the taste.
“And I think we overpaid,” she squeaked.
“I seriously doubt that,” he intoned, irritated. She was still quite in control of herself. He guessed that she had not consumed much alcohol, or perhaps her tolerance for alcohol was very high. Either way, she returned to being a blank in his mind as he returned his gaze to the floor.
Inami pulled the stem off of one of the cherries and put it in her mouth.
“You know, they say if you can tie the stem into a knot with your tongue it’s supposed to mean that you are good at kissing,” Inami mumbled as she carefully manipulated the cherry stem inside her mouth. . “Why can’t I ever do it?” Inami complained, spitting out the ruined stem onto the floor. A small cleaning robot zipped out onto the spot where the stem had landed and began cleaning and polishing with gusto.
Although his face remained emotionless, Rochestri was surprised to realize that he was angry. He had long ago learned how to feign rage and disgust when presented with heresy and treachery. It was expected from someone in his office and he always sought to exceed the expectations of his superiors. But, this was different. It came from deep inside him. He sincerely hated this creature.
“Such strong emotions are quite unlike me,” he realized. He wondered if she exuded some subtle sorcery that made him respond that way. He lifted up his gaze and noticed that Inami had unfastened the top clasps on the uniform and was tugging at the collar, revealing some of her ample cleavage.
“Onikano, it’s too hot in here,” Inami whined. The ship beeped in response and cooler air began to flow into the room. Inami put down the bowl and turned to face Rochestri, still tugging at her collar.
“I don’t know how you can stand this thing. The fabric is so itchy,” Inami complained. Rochestri jerked his head to one side and looked at the wall. Inami smiled wickedly.
“Am I making you uncomfortable, Rochi-sama?” she asked playfully, tugging further at the collar. Rochestri responded without looking back at her.
“You are an abomination. You disgust me, traitor,” he growled.
“I’d really appreciate it if you’d stop calling us traitors,” Inami stated, standing up from her chair. “We’re not traitors. We’re excommunicates. There’s a difference, you know?”
Rochestri ignored her.
“Onikano, lock the door please,” Inami ordered, her voice suddenly deeper and sharper than before, full of authority and a kind of power. The entrance to the bay responded with a series of clacks as the doors locked ominously.
Rochestri looked up at Inami and she seemed to change right before his eyes. She appeared older, much older. Her back was bent, her shoulders slouched and her hands seemed to tremble. Her bright green hair now appeared dull and listl
ess and her normally pretty features twisted into a scowl. Her violet eyes had before looked vapid and dull, but were now focused and full of intent. It seemed to Rochestri that she had put on a mask and become a different person. He felt a strange recoiling inside him. He could find no adequate word to describe the sensation, but he felt himself shrink back slightly at the sight of her.
“What could make me react this way?” he wondered.
“Marshal Rochestri, loyal servant of the Luminarch for nearly five-hundred years and the youngest Marshal to be inducted into the Second Council in nearly a millennium,” Inami mused. “The only living man to have ordered the destruction of an entire Confederate system. The Savior of Correll sector who defeated the great Gunoi Warlord Grenseck without firing a shot...that’s quite the title you’ve got there.”
Inami paused, allowing the moment to become more intense.
“Except that it’s all a lie,” she accused.
Rochestri felt himself begin to react and so turned his face into an expressionless mask before it could show.
“So, she has become a threat,” he thought. “Perhaps great enough to warrant action, but that has yet to be seen. Without proof, her words were meaningless.”
Inami produced a small data slate from her pocket and read from it.
“Administraţie report M39.0435292-Hyrell-Theta. The farmers on Hyrell Secund staged a non-violent protest on the planet’s only spaceport, blocking the thrust exit routes with their bodies in protest of overly stringent Confederate tithes which threatened to put the population into starvation that winter. Deputy Jacob Rochestri was en-route to Delvon and diverted his course, arriving on the third day of the protests. An envoy of protest leaders were shot on sight by the Deputy and orders were issued to the local police to begin using lethal force to disperse the crowd. When the Police Captains protested, they were executed as well. The remaining police began firing shotgun rounds into the crowd, as well as lethal gas grenades. Enraged, the crowd began to riot overwhelming the depleted police forces.”
“Being in danger, the Deputy re-boarded his shuttle and gave orders to the Tithe Ships to begin takeoff procedures with the crowd still in place on the spaceport tarmac. When the Tithe Ship commander refused, broadside missiles were fired from the Deputy’s shuttle into the lead Tithe Ship, destroying its command spire and causing its fuel tanks to rupture and spill out onto the spaceport. The Deputy called upon the 22nd Hyrell Rangers, then guarding the spaceport, to turn their artillery assets and target the spaceport itself. Inbound artillery destroyed three more Tithe Ships before the other five were compelled to takeoff, igniting the fuel spilled out on the spaceport and setting most of the remaining protesters on fire. Only three dozen of the two hundred thousand protesters survived the massacre and none of them survived interrogation after the event.”
Inami eyed Rochestri accusingly. He had no reason to explain himself to her, but found himself doing so anyway. “A servant of the Lightbringer must be willing at all times to fulfill his duty,” Rochestri explained coldly. “Those found lacking are to be crushed, that in their heretical death they may serve the Man of Light one final time, by serving as a warning to others.”
“So far this creature has told me nothing that could not be found in normal records, Rochestri thought. “If this is all she has, I have nothing to fear.”
“That attitude was not shared by your peers, because what this record does not show is that Marshal Salmon Turkin visited you on Delvon after the event. He must have realized what kind of person you were after that. He informed you that upon his return to Terra, your authority to requisition military force would be removed for the space of twenty cycles. This would force you to find diplomatic solutions to the problems you faced.”
Rochestri did not react to the information on the surface, but inside his mind moved like lightning. Records of that meeting had been meticulously purged after the fact and the only remaining copies perished with his oracle on Ardura.
“She’s being far too specific for this to be a bluff,” he thought. She did not seem to be trying to confirm a suspicion either. Her motives were not yet clear to him and that made her a threat to him. He decided she would have to be killed, along with her staff.
“A rather kind gesture from your mentor, I’d say, but Turkin never got to Terra to rescind your authority. On the way he was forced to investigate the planet Correll. His mystics predicted the awakening of a powerful warp entity and prophesied of a terrible binding ritual to be performed on the planet.”
Inami paused again accusingly, but Rochestri said nothing.
“Is it possible that copies of the records have survived?” he wondered. “Or has she been fed dis-information by one of my rivals on the council? Certainly Odamas or Francistra are careful enough to use a fourth party to eliminate me, but why would they choose this creature and what leverage are they using to control her? What could they have offered her in exchange for her cooperation? Absolution, perhaps? To a traitor? It has happened before, but would they really go that far? If so, then this ship will have to be purged, along with everyone in it.”
Inami watched Rochestri intently as his mind raced and he felt a distinct uneasiness, as if she could see through his calm exterior to the subtle currents beneath.
“Turkin would never have gone to Correll had he known that a large Gunoi Fleet was just days from reaching it,” Inami continued. “But he didn’t know that, because when reconnaissance vessels detected the Gunoi flotilla approaching Correll, you issued a data blackout. The Gunoi attacked and Turkin never left that place alive. You countermanded the Administraţie, redirecting relief forces and supplies sent to Correll. You allowed no aid to approach the system for ten cycles, until there was nothing left.”
Rochestri found his mask difficult to maintain. Inami was a dire threat indeed. Perhaps more dire than anything else he had ever faced.
“I will not underestimate her a second time,” he decided. “It is likely that her home system will have to be purged completely. That will take some time to set up and certainly concessions will have to be made to Odamas before he will ignore the event, but it can still be done if I’m careful.” Rochestri knew that it was essential that he maintain his silence, yet he found himself speaking. His lack of control around her was unsettling.
“You twist the facts to suit your own purposes,” Rochestri stated defiantly. “The Gunoi fleet was not detected until after Turkin had already arrived. The Senshi on Correll had betrayed the Liberator and death was their judgment. I simply allowed the Gunoi to carry out that judgment.”
“Along with the lives of nearly 6 billion men, women, and children that lived on Correll,” Inami added coldly.
“Much has to be sacrificed. Any loyal servant of the Luminarch would gladly give his life to defeat the Emancipator’s enemies,” Rochestri defended.
“Except that they didn’t need to make that sacrifice,” Inami retorted. “The Gunoi blockade of Correll could have been broken by the Confederate Navy and the invaders defeated in a year’s time. Instead, you allowed the Gunoi to roam free over the surface of Correll for nearly a decade, until everything on Correll lay dead. And they actually elevated you to the Second Council for it,” Inami recounted, shaking her head in disbelief.
“The Senshi of Correll were traitors,” Rochestri declared. “To save them with the Luminarch’s forces would have been aiding our enemy. That’s heresy of the worst kind.”
Inami laughed harshly.
“Heresy of the worst kind?” she repeated. “Your words are so alive with hypocrisy that they burn my lips just to repeat them. Tell me, what proof did you have that the Senshi deserved such a fate?”
“They had turned to worship of the Dark Gods,” Rochestri explained. When Marshal Turkin arrived on Correll, he found the cities darkened by blasphemous banners devoted to the demon gods and a hateful cult that extended to the highest levels of government. He informed me of the status and even suggested allowing the Gunoi
to eradicate the traitors there.”
“Of course, you kept no recordings of his supposed investigation and neither he nor his staff survived. After Correll fell, everything was reduced to ash so no one could go there to confirm or disprove your assertions,” Inami concluded.
A shadow seemed to fall across Inami’s face and her voice seemed to darken further as she continued.
“It’s amazing what a difference two weeks can make, isn’t it? If the Gunoi flotilla was detected a week after Turkin arrived, then you are the hero they say you are and successfully isolated an Uragan cult and eradicated both it and a Gunoi invasion in one brilliant maneuver that truly deserves the title ‘Savior of Correll sector.’ However, if the Gunoi flotilla was detected one week before Turkin’s arrival, then you are a fiend who trapped his mentor along with 6 billion of the Luminarch’s loyal servants to be slaughtered in a cage of your own design, just to fulfill your own selfish ambitions.”
Inami tapped the runes on her data slate and brought up an image.
“This is the report from the recon vessels. It was routed through your oracle. You were very clever. You didn’t try to forge a copy. That would have been detected. Instead, you simply corrupted the original so that the time code was tarnished. As you can see, the time code is hard to read, but it appears to read the third week of the tenth month and that is certainly how the Atrudi read it.”
Inami tapped a rune and another image appeared, identical to the first except that it lacked the smudge.
“This is the original message, pulled from your own oracle. The time code reads the first week,” Inami snarled.
“Message degradation is common. You are delusional. You have created a fantasy world where I am the center of some dark conspiracy and you are clinging onto this smudge as your validation,” Rochestri, concluded. “If you have nothing more than this smudge, you really have nothing at all.
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