Derrick turned lastly to the Andior heir.
"And Lord Guerren," Derrick said. Although the equality of their respective ranks permitted him to omit the otherwise obligatory "Sir" or "Your Highness," Derrick still hoped his greeting would irritate the prince of Fenté. “What a surprise. I did not expect to see you so soon after graduation.” He wanted to say more, but was determined not to be the overt aggressor in this exchange, despite his desire to have the man dragged out and publicly whipped.
"I simply thought it best to formally present myself, Lord-Regent," Guerren Andior said stiffly, handing Derrick his commissions. The Possór heir saw that one of the documents carried both the Great Imperial Seal, and the personal seal of the Emperor. The Fentéan prince was wasting no time in asserting his position. "And to inform you that I have been dispatched by His Imperial Lordship, the Marquis-Grandee deFenté, to serve as special commander of His Imperial Majesty's Armed Forces." Guerren Andior paused for a leisurely breath. "For the duration of this trial, it shall be my duty to ensure Pax Imperator on this planet."
Derrick, while apparently nodding his understanding and approval, raged. If any serious security problem or incident arose, Guerren had the right to take possession of the planet in the Emperor’s name, and to act as governor-militaire. Derrick wondered how slight of an excuse Guerren would use to bring down the orbiting Imperial soldiers.
The Emperor named House Andior just to antagonize us, the Possór heir thought. And Lord Fenté sent Guerren to further the gesture.
"Thank you, Lord Commander," Derrick said, stressing Guerren's service-title. "Though I am sure we all pray that circumstances do not compel our reliance upon your protective capacity."
The young Andior smiled. "Well said," he replied, "for I too would so pray."
"Now," Derrick said as he looked at the others, acting as if he had not heard the last remark, "would anyone care for some refreshment?"
---
XI
Colonel Steuben was brought through the door with his hands bound tightly in front of him. Although blindfolded, Steuben had used his psychic vision, undetectable by his kidnappers, to see where he was being taken. He thus knew that he was in the executive suite atop the NDB planetary headquarters building in the city of Carran, a place he would have found interesting had the old officer not been so angry at being seized by amateurs.
Outside, beyond the room's main window, Carran was alight in its evening raiment. In the distance, halfway up the mountain that hugged the city, The Believer's Temple of Carran sat in preeminence. With its smooth, white walls and tall silver spires, the largest NDB sanctuary on Legan reigned supreme over all that surrounded it.
"You're an idiot, Depré," Steuben growled as his blindfold and gag were removed. He had heard from his abductors that Depré had given the order to bring him there.
"If you mean that I trusted you," Lenalt replied coolly, "you may be right, though that's obviously changed." Depré's smile was more a baring of teeth than a greeting.
"An ass too," Steuben fumed, showing no sign of how painfully his handcuffs bit into his wrists. "You never trusted me. You never even gave me a chance to be trusted."
"But what of Galleston, Colonel? Those soldiers were waiting underground when we went in, you sonofabitch." Depré signaled Steuben's guards, who roughly shoved him into a chair in the center of the room, directly beneath a brightly focused ceiling-light.
Controlling his intensified wrath, Steuben continued to develop a plan. Taniell, sitting apart from the activity, seemed content to let Lenalt deal with him as he saw fit. He would not get any help from her. Gritting his teeth, the Colonel vowed that if he lived through this, her daughter would meet a new friend, no matter what some ghost of a dead lover might say.
"I should have known that was it," Steuben said finally, slumping forward as he exhaled. "I understand now. If only I could have done something." Tightening his throat muscles, he made his voice sound strained and weary.
"I'm sure you do," Depré remarked sardonically, not bothering to look at his captive as he leisurely picked up a glass and drank.
Guessing that Depré’s drink contained more syrup than alcohol, the old soldier almost asked about the missing slice of fruit. "I'm in no mood for this, Lenalt," Steuben replied, leaning back in his chair and shaking his head in mournful resignation. "We lost a lot of good people—"
"We don't care what kind of mood you're in," one woman answered, her tone so vicious that her voice cracked. It was the same person the Colonel had reprimanded for her comment about the populace being only pawns. "We want some answers!"
"Were you there?" he asked gently, as if from distracted curiosity, with no prejudgment. As intended, Steuben's complete lack of hostility stilled the woman's anger.
"Yes," she said softly, robbed of her momentum.
The Colonel nodded approvingly, but knew that most of the group still sided with Depré. Taking a gamble, he closed his eyes, testing a theory he had about these rebels.
"I had nothing to do with the soldiers underground," Steuben intoned, psychically wrapping his voice in an emotional projection aimed at eliciting a sense of amity. "Even though they were not what doomed the mission. It failed because the soldiers fired on the people." He paused for his words to sink in. "But this was not Lenalt's plan alone." Steuben wanted to say something stronger, but did not want to overdraw his luck. "Blame for its consequences is therefore something to be shared."
Emotional projection was a difficult psychic technique, and one which Steuben would not have dared on more sophisticated adversaries. But as the rebels seemed psychically insensitive, it was worth the risk. An outright psychic attack on his kidnappers, however, was still unwise, as a deficiency in one psychic discipline did not mean a deficiency in them all.
Watching Kamarin's internal struggle with her genuine feelings and those he psychically implanted, Steuben realized that he should have tried the Disciplines on the rebels sooner. He may not have been able to dominate the group, but a judicious use of his special abilities might have saved him a lot of unnecessary inconvenience.
Ironically, as the group's resolve against Steuben softened, Depré's true emotions intensified, counteracting the Colonel’s efforts. Motionless, with only the faint tremble of tensed muscles betraying his fury, someone cut him off before Depré could find his voice.
"The mission was our responsibility," one woman conceded. “We voted for it.” She lowered her gaze. "But how we could have known that Derrick would to fire on the crowd?"
"They refused to surrender the building and disperse," another rebel replied dryly, as if that explained everything. "You heard the official report. The Emperor's Peace—"
"Piss on the Emperor's Peace!" an older man cried. "It's just another excuse to herd us around. Derrick only—"
"Derrick didn't give the order," Steuben said, fortifying his expression as he silenced the room with a passing glance. "Seffan did."
"But Derrick's the lord-regent. Seffan can't—"
"If you find it hard to believe that Derrick would give such an order," Steuben breathed. "Why is it difficult to believe that he was only obeying his father's command?"
"Whether obeying Seffan or not," Depré declared, "Derrick officially gave the order. By standing by it, he's just as culpable."
Steuben shrugged and lifted an elbow to the arm of his chair, a smoothly executed movement giving the illusion of him not being handcuffed. He essentially agreed with Depré, but if Derrick opposed his father's action, as Steuben's sources claimed...
"But that’s beside the point," Depré went on. "There was no reason for those soldiers to be underground unless we had been betrayed by—"
"You’re back to that?" the Colonel asked, his voice thick with exasperation. He again gave his words a psychically enhanced emphasis. "I told you. I did not betray the mission."
Depré looked about to measure the room’s reaction before making a reply. "Perhaps, perhaps not," he said flipp
antly. "But you see, after Galleston, we need greater assurance that you support our cause. We can't afford another failure, and can't risk any future leaks."
"Failure?" Steuben repeated, widening his eyes and allowing his ongoing underlying projection to fade. "Is that how you describe what happened? People died during that ‘failure,’ Lenalt, including Annika." Steuben saw Kamarin wince at his words.
"Spare me your dramatics," Depré responded, calling out behind him. "Bring in—!"
"You convince everyone that Seffan would never kill a mob of dissidents, and then say that the plan failed because it was leaked? You gambled with those people on a bluff, Lenny, and they lost. Your problem is that Seffan reacted just as I warned he might. You dared Seffan to kill them, and he did. Why are you surprised?"
Depré struck Steuben across the face, the Colonel's head rolling with the blow. Straightening, Steuben looked back at him with a grin.
"Gods Below, Lentil," he cried, "sassy bar-wenches have whopped me with tougher ‘love’ slaps! Where in the leagues of space did you learn how to throw a punch?"
Depré was about to pull his fist back to swing at Steuben again when Kamarin stopped him. "This isn't helping, Lenalt," she said, moving close to him.
"I should have expected you to assume the worst before even asking me where I was," Steuben said, sending a projection to make Depré's loss of self-control seem inexcusable.
"I don't care where you say you were," Depré snapped. "I—"
"I care," said the woman who had spoken before. Several others voiced agreement. "Besides," she added, "if we were really betrayed, why haven’t we been raided anywhere else?"
Steuben nodded, though he could guess that whoever betrayed the Galleston mission still wanted the rebels constituted, just not armed with the computer files from the Chancellery.
"So where were you, Colonel?" the woman asked.
"On Teviston," Steuben said respectfully, "the homeworld of House Tehasing, meeting with our ambassador and intelligence agents." The Colonel saw no purpose in telling them that he had purposely requested the faraway assignment. "Seffan is having trouble gathering data to strengthen House Possór’s position in a marriage negotiation involving Derrick and Lord Tehasing's eldest daughter. And given that House Tehasing has recently converted to the NDB Church, I don't need to tell you what this could mean for us."
Kamarin paled. Yes, my dear, Steuben thought, watching Kamarin. I know all about the role the NDB Church plays in your rebellion.
While the New Dawn Believers were not harried within the Crown territories, Seffan let his vassals take what measures they wished against them. This unofficial suppression had caused many NDB's to join the rebellion. If Seffan enjoined any further anti-NDB activities as a gesture to House Tehasing, which would be expected, the rebels' ranks would shrink considerably—along with their finances.
"Bring in Wyren," Depré hissed, staring at the Colonel. "We need this story verified."
"That's Bishop Wyren," a man in the corner of the room corrected.
"Of course," Depré said indifferently, smiling at Steuben as if sharing an inside joke. "Bishop Wyren is one of the best truthseers on Legan," he continued. "He is also our chief liaison and supporter within the NDB Church." He bent down to whisper in Steuben's ear. The sound of weapons being set behind him told the Colonel not to make any sudden moves. "What can you do?" Depré asked in mock capitulation. "Rich friends are rich friends."
Given the NDBs’ strict chain of command and duty of obedience, if Bishop Wyren were involved, the NDB Church was serious in its commitment to the rebel movement. Yet the NDB also reportedly had strong connections within Seffan's government. Connections which have not gotten them everything they have wanted, Steuben reminded himself, now guessing that the NDBs would have known about the possible marriage to House Tehasing for quite some time.
They are playing both sides.
Steuben recognized the NDB bishop as he entered the room, having seen him in the outer Palace-complex on several occasions. As was the custom of the NDB hierarchy, the man wore no outer vestments or accouterments to signify his office.
Bishop Chais Wyren stepped forward in a near glide, his eyes briefly catching those of everyone. As the bishop's glance fleeted past him, a look that gave no indication that he knew the Colonel, Steuben felt an unexpected wave of calm wash over him.
An emotional projection, the Colonel thought, the projection vanishing as Steuben took notice of it. Steuben knew that Bishop Wyren was probably better trained in the Disciplines than he was. There was thus no need to verify the projection's origin.
Given that the feeling it brought on was benign, and generally welcomed, Steuben allowed the easy feeling the projection generated to linger. Ultimately the feeling became real, as such fabricated emotions did, if not consciously dismissed.
"Any useful information would be appreciated, Bishop," said Depré, speaking as if Steuben was not there. "But we really just need to know is if he's a spy."
"All right," Bishop Wyren replied evenly with a nod. "I am ready to begin."
Steuben stiffened, his sense of calm draining away as he became deathly aware that no one would come to his aid. Even the woman who spoke for him earlier kept her eyes on the Bishop, evidently affected by his projection. And he could only curse himself for it.
Having easily detected Wyren's "harmless" psychic projection, he had let it lull him. Discounting its relevance as even a distraction, Steuben had sat by without further thought to find a way out of his situation. Now he was trapped, for if this Wyren entered his mind...
"Oh, how silly of me," Depré laughed, making a game of his victory over Steuben as he turned to his prisoner. "You haven't told us if you object to being psychically read or not."
Steuben did not return Depré's smile. Like most military officers, he knew how to resist interrogations. His rank required it, for apart from maintaining his cover as an undercover agent, he had to protect other information that he could not permit others to read from his memory. Steuben may have hated Seffan and his bloodthirsty clan, but he still loved his home planet.
"I don't suppose," Steuben said casually, using his well-exercised talents to keep from perspiring, "that my rights to be free from this type of questioning—under Imperial law—matters at all to you and your civilized, high-minded ideals? The oppression and tyranny—"
"You suppose correctly," Depré said, forcing a yawn while making a show of half-heartedly trying to stifle it. "Survival's not something you often sacrifice for mere ideals."
Taniell scowled, but Steuben was more concerned over having the strength to hide information from a truthseer's direct thought-examination. For the first time in Steuben’s military career, he truly faced a situation where he might be forced to kill himself.
"Your followers are trading one evil for another," Steuben charged. "Do you know of your hypocrisy, Depré, or do you just enjoy openly indulging in it?"
"Thank Our Creator that life under the Possórs has hardened my sensitivities," Depré replied, ignoring a look from Wyren as he put a hand to his supposedly wounded heart. "So what about it, Colonel? Will you lower your mental shields and make this easy for us?"
Steuben was about to say something when he felt a psychic force crash against his mental defenses, depositing a residual impression that slowly seeped into his awareness.
"Trust me," it said.
The blow pushed Steuben back in his chair. A couple of people reached for their lasguns as a reflex action, they also having sensed the powerful discharge of psychic energy.
"I was only testing his shields," Wyren explained, again projecting a sense of peace over the room. "They are not bad."
"We could drug you, Steuben," Depré threatened. "The Disciplines only give you so much internal chemical control, assuming you know how to do that sort of thing."
"I'd be dead before I’d say anything against my will," Steuben proclaimed, his mind racing to make sense of the NDBs’ role in
this underground movement. "Admiral Neider should have taught you at least that much.” For the Colonel, of course, the concern was not about being forced to reveal anything, but whether Wyren could be trusted, and he had to know now.
"You want me killed anyway, Lenalt," Steuben stalled. "You'd rather have me dead than admit to your own incompetence."
"If that's what you want." Depré shrugged before signaling someone standing behind Steuben with a haughty lift of his head.
"Wait!" Wyren called, staying Depré with his hand as he turned to Steuben. "Colonel, I appreciate your objection to this treatment and your reluctance to give us too much information."
Depré's face flushed. "What are you—?"
"Listen to me, Lenalt," the Bishop said, cutting the younger man off. "We have put the Colonel in an impossible position. He has no reason to trust us if we show no faith in him." Wyren looked back to Steuben. "And you are right, Colonel. There are ideals worth the sacrifice of our lives. We must never allow ourselves to become like the faithless we fight."
Wyren held Depré's stare as the rebel’s anger deflated into resignation.
"We need only know if you are a spy," the Bishop resumed, looking hopefully at Steuben. "Will you share enough of your memories with me so that I may make such a determination? I promise to stop if you ask, and to leave you to do...whatever you may need to do." Wyren's eyes lowered, appearing reluctant to voice Steuben's obvious alternative.
Steuben sat a moment, studying Wyren. From everything he could read and sense, the Bishop was an honest man.
The Colonel caught himself. How can he be honest and keep my reason for joining their revolt a secret? He again looked at the man appraisingly, reminded how seductive his first emotional projection was. Damn, he's good! Steuben admitted, psychically probing the area with his thoughts. He generates a continuous aura for others to sense, and even read. It's faint, but unmistakable. The Colonel allowed the mental probe to dissipate, seeing several people in the room ready themselves for possible violence. Ignoring them, Steuben cleared his thoughts as he closed his eyes, seeking to enter a mental state that would give him an answer from deep within.
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