by Tyler Chase
Chapter 29
Having returned to Novoxos, Vaush found herself sitting across from Lord Famaris, contemplating all that they had achieved in a matter of weeks. Now that Ahmed was opening the door to bilateral trade in non-richya currency, one sovereignty after another was pivoting away from richya and to the Hinter Worlds’ mixed basket of currencies or their own sovereign coin. Yes, richya still held sway controlling the monolithic financial markets, but even that was being chipped away as the Shinzhao financial markets became more sophisticated in part to Crausin and Comron’s financial ingenuity.
The next power move was to convince a smaller but fairly influential player in the energy sector to come on board.
“And you, Lord Famaris, surely you see the value in Taragona engaging in bilateral trade in non-richya currencies.”
Lord Famaris, a rotund, dark haired, middle-aged man nodded as he cracked the crustacean’s shell on his plate and forked out the white meat. “Desin tried the same thing nearly a decade ago, Empress. The next thing you know, the Hegemony had declared him a vile despot, and fomented an uprising that resulted in him being dragged through the streets by common thugs. And,” he poked the air with his fork for emphasis, “I hear they stole thirty tons of his gold.” He shook his head. “No, my Empress, I’m afraid it’s business as usual for Taragona.”
“We can offer you protection, Famaris,” Vaush set her wine glass down and boldly stated. “No one’s dragging Ahmed through the streets, not when two Imperial Planetary Destroyers have them in their crosshairs.”
His brow arched. “Even an Empress can eventually spread her arsenal too thin.”
She smirked. “I apply pressure strategically where it will yield the most gain. I don’t offer this protection indiscriminately. I’m offering you the opportunity to cast off the yoke of Nostrom and become masters of your own destiny.”
“Or rather … exchange theirs for yours,” Famaris said slyly, as he dipped the meat into the butter sauce.
Her practiced smile did not reach her eyes. “I assure you, my yoke is far kinder than his. Consider it, Lord Famaris, that is all I ask at present.”
His head bobbed in contemplation and his thin lips were slick with the buttery sauce that he dipped the white meat in. He reached for his wine glass and gulped down its contents.
“I will do what is best for Taragona,” he said, reaching for another shellfish. “That’s all I can promise.”
Vaush drew her finger along her cheek. “I do recall a bit of Taragona history. A few decades ago, I believe your great uncle was thrown into the streets and beaten to death.”
Famaris hesitated a second before resuming his meal. “He’d stolen the people’s money and lived like an emperor while his subjects lived like paupers. A fool met a fool’s end.”
Vaush nodded curtly. “Yes, that’s the public version anyway. But we know otherwise, don’t we, Lord Famaris?”
This time he set his food down on his plate. His gray eyes narrowed at her.
Vaush nodded, yes, I know. “The truth is they discovered your uncle was abducting villagers from the outlands to harvest their organs and sell them to the highest bidders in the Hegemony.”
Vaush watched dispassionately as Famaris began coughing, and his beady little eyes began to bulge as his face glowed red. At first, she thought he was simply choking on the news that such a lucrative business he’d profited from was folding, but she quickly realized it was far more.
“Lord Famaris?” Vaush watched him studiously. “Do you require some—”
He pounded his chest again and clutched his throat.
Vaush rose quickly from the table causing her head to swim. Too much wine, she thought as she clutched the side of the table to steady herself. “Help, come quickly! Lord Famaris is choking.” She started toward him but her legs went weak and her throat started to burn. Laney had already moved in.
“Your Grace.” Laney’s eyes narrowed with concern as she looked from Vaush to Famaris. “Are you all right?” she asked, helping Vaush back into her chair.
There was a scream from the kitchen and the sound of dishes crashing to the floor.
“Find out what’s going on in there!” Laney barked at one of her men.
Two of Famaris’ attendants were at his side trying to render aid as his stubby fingers clawed at his throat while he made guttural noises, his tongue protruding like a swollen appendage.
The burning in Vaush’s throat extended down her esophagus and into her stomach. The room began to sway before her. No, no, no!
“Laney, the food … it’s poisoned,” Vaush said, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. “Call for my physician, quickly!”
Laney immediately signaled the order to the nearest guard. “But how?” Laney argued. “Every dish was thoroughly tested and carefully monitored until it was served.”
Vaush gave her a stern look. “Then it’s something beyond our ability to detect.” She groaned and doubled over in pain. “Mother’s bitch, it burns!”
Just then, Famaris pitched forward onto the table. Blood and undigested food spewed from his mouth and nose.
“Crike me,” Laney said and hauled Vaush up and away from the table. “Come on. We have to get her back to the ship,” she said to her men. “Gesser, stay here and figure out what the hell is going on.” She spoke into her communicator. “Doctor Belser, we’re on our way. We believe the empress has been poisoned!”
Hearing the alarm in Laney’s voice was almost as unsettling as watching Famaris bleed out over the table as his servants worked frantically to revive him. One of the guards swept Vaush up into his arms and hurried her out of the hall and down the corridor toward their transport. The burning was now a raging fire in her gut. Her throat tightened as she gasped for air.
Who had perpetrated such a vile act of cowardice against the crown? Vaush thought in her mounting pain and anger. There were so many enemies but Thalonius was always at the top of the list. Had her dear brother finally won the war for their father’s throne? The mere thought rallied her determination to survive this and to make her brother pay for this latest affront.
“Where’s the doctor?” she groaned as she imagined that the poison had already burned through the lining of her stomach and soon she’d be drowning in her own blood like Famaris.
“Quickly, get her onto the table,” she heard Doctor Belser say as they entered a white, sterile room. “What can you tell me?” he said as he quickly began removing Vaush’s clothing. “Do you have any idea what type of poison we’re dealing with?”
“Something beyond our medical science,” Laney replied in a clipped tone. “Nothing registered on our equipment, but so far three people have died from it.”
The bio-scan monitor hovered over Vaush. The leads extended out attaching themselves to her vital organs. Her whole body felt as if it were on fire, like a violent war was being waged inside. Her throat constricted making it nearly impossible to breathe.
Comron. Damn it! Why hadn’t he come with her? Why wasn’t he here to do … to do something!
Besler’s face was deeply creased with concern. He tapped at the bio-scanner giving orders to administer medication to bring her vital signs back within tolerable levels. An alarm went off signaling failing respiratory systems.
Vaush began gasping and panting for breath.
“Doctor, you’d better figure something out quickly!” Laney said, her voice laden with a threat.
Besler slapped his hand against a drawer that slid open. He grabbed a plastic apparatus and was soon slipping a tube down Vaush’s throat. She inhaled deeply, fighting to overcome the panic spreading throughout her. Stay calm, she told herself. This is not how my life ends. I will get through this!
Just then, another siren blared.
Chapter 30
Merit Hancet laughed, his porcine eyes danced with satisfaction of being right yet again. “It’s already begun to happen, Jonis. Immediately after the Gressian banks depegged from richya, they tur
ned around and started denying their large investors the right to make withdrawals greater than ten thousand credits.”
Comron and Crausin sat back at the conference table and watched as the two egocentric pundits battled over who had the most accurate record of economic predictions, in particular their predictions regarding the fall of the Hegemony.
“And the Hegemony has started five small-scale proxy wars in the last six months to halt the flight from richya, just as I predicted,” Jonis Mendis argued. “The systemic contagion must be controlled lest you set this whole empire on fire.”
“Too late,” Hancet laughed more condescendingly this time, “Ahmed’s settling bilateral deals in non-richya and Warbrenger’s tired of bailing out all the failed states.”
“Enough, gentlemen,” Comron thrust a hand out interrupting them. “You both bring a great deal to the table, otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting around this one.”
Crausin chimed in, “We need to continue to apply pressure to Warbrenger. The states that they’ve lent heavily to need to continue to default on their debt. At some point, Warbrenger must see that they’ll drown if they don’t break away from the Hegemony soon to save themselves.”
“Warbrenger is so close now,” Comron added, “They’ve agreed to meet with Vlodostok to help broker a peace treaty between Sukran and Vlodostok. By doing so, many of the heavy economic sanctions may be lifted from Vlodostok.”
Mendis grimaced and shook his head. “The Hegemony would never allow that peace to last. They are the ones instigating the strife in Sukran to keep the fighting alive.”
“No one around this table is ignorant of this,” Crausin said with a hint of irritation, “but even a temporary peace treaty will provide Warbrenger with the justification he needs to resume trade with Vlodostok and Shinzhao.”
Comron nodded. “Every day we grow closer to Warbrenger striking a clear alliance with the Hinter Worlds—”
“It’s still far too soon,” Mendis objected. “There may be great economic benefit to Warbrenger doing business with the Hinter Worlds, but sixty percent of their trade remains with the Hegemony. They won’t completely ostracize themselves.”
“How much business do you think the Hegemony can stand to lose?” Hancet asked caustically. “They can’t keep slapping everyone around lest they risk isolating themselves.”
“Precisely,” Comron said with a mischievous smile, “and I plan to turn up the heat a few more degrees. Expect the Hegemony to lose a few more allies in the very near future.”
“Ach, I love it!” Hancet said, slapping the table with a thick hand. “Who and when?”
Comron glanced at Crausin who shook his head. “Sorry, you’ll know soon enough,” Comron said. At this point, he was still cautious about how much he would share with Crausin. He and Vaush had discussed the matter and decided they would not reveal the secrets of the Bramech to Crausin. It mattered not that it was incompatible with all humans except Vaush and Comron, it was the principle of the matter. They would not violate the Murkudahl’s trust unless absolutely necessary. Instead, Comron simply told Crausin that the Murkudahl had provided them with stellar surveillance equipment. Crausin remained suspicious, but had no choice but to accept their answer.
“Shall we move on to the next order of business?” Crausin asked, glancing at his com-pad. “Mendis, what sort of progress have you made shoring up the alliance with Arantalis? Can we count on them to join with Shinzhao and Vlodostok?”
Mendis tapped at his com-pad. “I’ve met with three of the major juntas in the region and—”
The panic attack hit so hard and fast, Comron clutched the edge of the table. His chest constricted and his breathing became labored as his heart thundered.
“Comron?” Crausin said, his eyes wide with alarm sensing Comron’s great distress. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
The anxiety was so acute, it could only mean one thing—Vaush. Comron rose from the table and attempted to raise her on their private link, as the ominous feeling grew heavier. “Vaush! Answer me, Vaush,” he demanded in a frantic pitch.
Crausin was already adjourning the meeting and was quick to join Comron.
“What the hell is going on?”
Comron waved him silent as he signaled Laney. “Laney, what’s happening? I can’t contact the empress.”
“Lord Comron, you’d better come quickly,” Captain Laney said, the panic in her voice barely contained. “It’s Vaush; she’s been poisoned. It doesn’t look good.”
“Poisoned! Bleeding hell,” Comron exclaimed. “Where is she now? How did this happen?”
“We’re en route to the Lion Palace. Belser is here treating her aboard the transport, but we need the state-of-the-art medical facilities. We’ll arrive in half an hour.”
“Go to her, let me see her!” Comron commanded.
Laney shifted her visual to forward facing and was on the move toward Vaush. When Comron caught sight of her trembling uncontrollably on the table, gasping and panting for air while a tube protruded from her mouth, he nearly gave way from despair.
“Vaush!” he cried. “Who did this? How did this happen?”
“The meal with Lord Famaris was poisoned,” Laney replied guiltily. “He and two of his aides have died from it.”
“Damn you, Laney,” Comron cursed, “Where’s the doctor?”
Laney looked across the table to give Comron a visual.
“Doctor Belser, give me your access code,” Comron gave the stern order and keyed in his private contact data. “I want to see the empress’ vitals. I need to know everything you know.”
Belser glanced at Comron with a mild look of alarm that said but you’re not a physician.
“Do it now!” Comron barked.
Belser jumped and began tapping in his codes and sent Vaush’s charts to him.
Comron quickly retrieved Vaush’s normal bio scan and compared them to her current state. Damn! The poison agent was attacking her respiratory system and she was hemorrhaging in the stomach and esophagus.
“What have you been using to treat her,” Comron said his voice still thick with anger and fear.
“A suite of thensothorazine since we don’t know exactly what this is … but nothing’s working. I don’t know how much longer she—”
“It’s acting like some sort of neurotoxin agent. Have you examined it against the Novoxos medical database?”
Belser looked offended. “Of course I have. But it’s like nothing we’ve ever seen. It must have originated from outside our system.”
“Com-Comron—” Vaush’s voice was garbled between gasps, her body wracked by small convulsions as she struggled to breathe.
“Vaush, love, I’m here,” Comron said, straining to keep the despair out of his voice. “I’m going to get you through this, but I need you to fight like hell to hold on.”
“Com …,” her eyes seemed to search for him.
“I’m here, fighting for you. Just hold on.”
“Look at this,” Belser said pointing to a holograph visual. “You see the neural toxin destroying the cellular walls, but somehow they are being repaired or rebuilt almost as quickly. The toxin had a jump on her, so her defenses are struggling to keep up. But how she’s doing it … I’m completely at a loss.”
Comron knew it had to be the Murkudahl essence at work in Vaush. It had to explain why the others died while she held on fighting.
“But the empress is weakening. I don’t think she’ll be able to maintain the fight for much longer.”
“Now you listen to me,” Comron growled. “You’d better find some way to slow down the toxin and keep her alive until you reach the Lion Palace. In other words, do your fucking job!”
Belser glared at Comron and his face turned a deep shade of red but he held his tongue before returning his attention to Vaush.
“Comron,” Crausin said evenly.
He turned, having forgotten Crausin was there.
“They said the neurotoxin is from outsi
de our system,” Crausin stated flatly, “but I don’t think the parties who introduced it into the food were. Who is desperate enough to carry out this kind of attack?”
“Thalonius!” Comron said his name like a curse. “Of course it’s him, but that doesn’t tell me what he used, and I don’t have the time to beat the knowledge out of him when he’s hours away.” If only I’d seen this coming, if I only I’d—the Chronicle Archives!
“I have to go to my study, Crausin,” he said and hurried from the conference room, down the corridors to the imperial suites. Surely Thalonius had to plan this out, hold discussions, and make arrangements to acquire the neurotoxin. Comron sat at the com center and inserted the Bramech into his ear. He called up Thalonius’ prior six-week history and rapidly began scanning the data. He focused the search by filtering for any discussions of bio-agents or neurotoxins. There was no reason to believe Thalonius would have coded his speech if he had no reason to believe he was being watched.
Within minutes, he’d isolated the conversations. Stewing in his fury, Comron listened as Thalonius stood in a dark room speaking to an outlawed Hotupe trader from beyond the empire’s boundaries. That Thalonius dealt with him directly instead of using an intermediary suggested he wanted no witnesses to his dealings. No, there was someone else in the shadows. No matter; the name of the poison was the only thing that concerned him now.
Gletrelan is what the Hotupe called the substance in the small vile. He assured Thalonius that it was beyond our current medical science to detect any trace of it in food or drink. It was fast and one hundred percent lethal with no known antidote. For a small fortune, Thalonius could take possession of it and do as he pleased.
A quick scan of all other occurrences of the keywords rendered no other evidence. It had to be the Gletrelan, and there was no known cure!
Comron initiated contact with Chaiyse, there had to be something they could do to save Vaush now that he knew the name of the poison.