“I have been considering the situation for quite some time now, and I have come to the conclusion that if I do not step in now, you will ruin Coriolis.” Her eyes flickered to her guards. “I have some support, you know.”
“Support? What support can YOU have?”
“Some Coriolans are making a great deal of money through the trade agreements with the rebels on Kwaide,” she said. “They feel that your handling of the opportunities has been … shall we say … lacking?”
“I have been extremely busy!”
“We heard. You have been busy interesting yourself in the low-life of Mesteta.”
“I have been trading with the Sellites!”
“The same old trading agreement of years ago. That treaty is very favourable to the Sellites, and definitely not so favourable to the Coriolans. It is time for a change, you fool. You are anchored in the past, and in your own pleasures.”
“How dare you speak to me like that!” He marched over to the side of the room and pulled a long rope agitatedly. A dull ringing sounded outside.
His wife smiled, and made a sign to one of the guards who had accompanied her in. The broad-shouldered guard moved over to Maximus, and put one hand on his shoulder.
“Guards!” Maximus shouted. “Guards, I say!”
Nobody came running in answer to his call. The portly ruler looked confused, and stared dumbly at the bell rope in his hand, unable to comprehend why it had not had an immediate effect. There should have been guards pouring in from all sides. His face crumpled.
“These are your guards now, Maximus,” said Indomita serenely. “They are going to escort you to Mount Palestron, and … err … look after you there. They will bring you back when you have had time to reconsider.”
“Reconsider what?” he demanded, getting a second wind. “This is preposterous. I am the ruling Elder of Coriolis—”
“And a fine mess you have made of it,” she said. “But you needn’t worry – I am going to take good care of our interests while you are resting. And I am sure you will see the benefits of our ruling jointly in the future. Send me a message through Kobar here.” Her gaze went to the guard who was holding her husband, and a smile played around her mouth. “I will be more than happy to get your message.”
“Over my dead body!” Maximus struggled futilely against the younger and stronger man. “Let me go, you fool! How dare you! I shall have you set in rexelene for this.”
“There is no need for theatrics, Maximus. Kobar merely has your best interests at heart. And your best interests are the best interests of Coriolis, you know.”
“You are trying to get your precious hands on Coriolis.”
“Yes.” She seemed pleased that he had finally caught on. “Together we will take Coriolis on to new successes. You are very tired, Maximus. All that hard … err … work has left you run down. You will feel so much better after your holiday. And you mustn’t hurry back. There is nothing for you to worry about. Coriolis will have me at its helm.”
“P-pr-preposterous!” he shouted again. “I am the ruling Elder of Coriolis—”
“You should have ruled better,” she told his back as he was escorted from the room. Indomita watched unmoved as the doors closed gently behind her husband, then seemed to recollect that she was not alone, and looked around.
“Well Vion – as you can see there may be a need to review the current trading terms with Sell. You will no doubt be able to contact the Sellite Authorities. Please tell them to send a delegation as soon as possible to discuss future arrangements. And … err … Vion? Tell them they will be dealing with me for the foreseeable future, won’t you? Explain to them that my husband has found it necessary to retire from front line politics for the time being. I am sure he will be back soon.”
Vion could do little more than bow himself out of the room. He gave a silent whistle. He had been a witness to what must have been the quickest and most silent revolution in history.
ATHERON AND MANDALON were travelling up on the space elevator to witness the first trial of the new space engine which would replace the current propellant used on the heavy-duty space freighters. The power systems skyrise had expressed reasonable confidence with the new prototype, and it was hoped that such an engine would save up to sixty percent of fuel consumption. It would be a considerable advantage, especially for Sellite mining operations.
Atheron was listening to Mandalon’s opinion about Indomita Magmus on Coriolis. Vion 48 had learned of the changes from his son, and had most correctly immediately submitted a full report to the leader of Sell. The establishment of a new medical facility on the Sacran planet was turning out to have additional benefits. Mandalon made a mental note to congratulate Vion 48 for his forethought.
“You would think that Maximus Senate could keep his own wife in order!” he spluttered. “That … that … orthogel entity has been putting Coriolis against us! I might have known. It is trying to take all of our power away. We cannot allow this state of affairs to continue.”
Atheron nodded his head, but secretly thought Mandalon a dangerous fool. The loss of very advantageous terms in the trade agreement with Coriolis would be a disaster for Sell. This could not be allowed to continue. What with the attempted revolution on Kwaide, and the probable change in terms on Coriolis, the Sellites were losing all they had worked so hard for generations to establish. Mandalon might grumble all he liked, but Atheron knew where to put the blame. None of this would have happened if he himself had been head of Sell. Well; time would tell.
Ever since he had come back he had been aware of a certain reservation in Mandalon’s treatment of him. The leader of Sell had not liked the news that his second in command had disposed of two Sellite space traders, whatever the benefits that may have given him.
“It is all the fault of this Arcan entity and the two donor apprentices he has picked up,” stormed Mandalon. “Though it started with the donor apprentice house. They should have known how to keep that unspeakable Grace girl quiet. I don’t know where all this is coming from! Since when have females had a say in anything? This is Xenon’s fault. I blame him – fair and square. Allowing a traitor to grow up in his house!”
Atheron muttered the soothing words expected of an acolyte, and took his leader by the elbow, leading him up to the plinth.
“A pity that they did not think to include you on the ship’s manifest for the test flight,” he said. “With all this going on it would have been an opportunity for the rest of Sell to see how hard you work to protect their holdings.”
“It would, wouldn’t it? Yes, I am glad you put me in mind of it. Have me put on the manifest straight away, will you?”
“An excellent idea,” Atheron bowed slightly, a faint smile on his lips, “I will attend to it immediately.”
“Do that, will you?” Mandalon looked around with impatience. “I seem to have to do everything myself these days!”
“I am so sorry, Mandalon. Perhaps I should have thought of it myself!”
“Well, I really think you might work a little bit harder, you know. After all, I can’t be expected to think of everything, can I?”
“Indeed not. Ah – I think I can see Satron over there – shall I sign for him to come over?”
“Of course. Here, Satron – why have I not been included on the manifest for this flight?”
The head of the power systems skyrise looked taken aback. “It was deemed too risky, Mandalon.”
“Is the flight being shown on the tridiscreen?”
“Of course.”
“Then I shall go. Arrange it please.”
“But—”
Mandalon held up a hand. “If you please! I am still head of Sell. I think I am capable of deciding something for myself, don’t you?” He raised his voice to carry to the tridiscreen. “I have decided to accompany the pilot on this inaugural flight. Sell is at a time of flux, when it is necessary to show how much we are prepared to invest in new technology, how important our small advances
will be – to our children, and our children’s children.” Mandalon found himself assuming the mellifluous tone so useful to a politician. He was well into his stride, the tridi button was showing direct transmission, it was a perfect opportunity to garner some support. Excellent! He continued talking, slipping with accustomed ease into a five minute rousing speech about new challenges and the glory of Sell.
Atheron, at his side, nodded his head solemnly. He had heard the words at least two hundred times before. The man was a buffoon. Still, it made him all the easier to manipulate. He gave a broad smile – things were working out just as he had planned.
The school teacher led the applause at the end of the speech, and walked up to the hatch with Mandalon.
“You may come too, Atheron, if you like.” The leader was now in a magnanimous mood.
“It would be an honour,” replied Atheron. “To have my name in the history books as the first Sellite to test the prototype – with you, of course – would be more than I could hope for. To go down in history – how many Sellites can say that, I wonder?”
“On the other hand, and now I come to think about it, you would be far more useful here. After all, those vimpics of yours might break down, and then where would we be?”
Atheron agreed blandly, and generously helped Mandalon in through the hatch, his white hair shining under the lights.
Before the hatch was closed, Mandalon looked around with an air of the intrepid. “Make sure the tridi is left recording, Atheron, this voyage will be historic.”
Atheron gave a slight inclination of his head. “I am sure it will be,” he murmured.
The hatch was closed. The ship was manoeuvred away from the orbital station under the standard propellant system. Soon it was at the required safe distance for the trial to commence.
The new electromagnetic plasma engine was powered up, and the space freighter began to pull slowly away from the orbital platform. Things, it seemed, were going ahead according to schedule. The watching spectators relaxed and began to talk amongst themselves.
Drinks and sweetfruits were served. The atmosphere lightened. The gathering began to take on an almost festive note. For almost half an hour Atheron made small talk with the other visitors, although he kept one eye on the tridiscreen which showed the flight in progress.
So he was one of the first to notice that something was wrong. The space freighter seemed to give a little twitch, a small glitch in the straight line it was traversing. At first it was barely noticeable, but the erratic wobble was repeated, and this time seemed to be greater. Atheron tried to find Satron in the crowd, and then saw that the man had moved hurriedly to a console.
Other visitors were now beginning to detect the anomaly. People looked at each other, and the pleasant conversation dried up, giving way to a buzz of concern. Then a burst of static came through the communication unit, and the pilot’s voice could be heard, detailing a thermal overload in the prototype.
In a calm voice, Satron, the head of house, ordered the new engine to be shut down. The pilot acknowledged, and there was what seemed a very long pause. Everyone held their breath. Then, to their horror, the watchers saw three little bursts of light from the space freighter.
A few seconds later there was a much larger burst of light. Despite the absolute silence on the orbital platform, no sound reached those who were watching. There was no detonation, no drama. Just four bursts of light announced the fatal engine failure and the truncation of Sellite lives, together with the hopes of a new plasma engine.
Satron’s voice was no longer calm. He was issuing staccato orders for rescue ships to be sent out, the pallor in his face a testimony to the seriousness of the accident. The space elevator was in full use, automatically going into evacuation mode. The dignitaries were hustled down to the Valhai Voting Dome, a solemn Atheron amongst them. It was thought that at least some of the occupants of the test ship had survived.
LATER THAT DAY it was a long-faced Atheron who gave the watching Sellites the results of the rescue operation. Mandalon had been killed outright, together with the pilot. The other occupants had escaped death, having been able to evacuate the space freighter in time. They had all suffered injuries, and were being flown for treatment on Cesis, accompanied by the head of the Sell medical house, Vion 48.
Atheron finished the announcement with an emotive message to the families of the two men who had been killed. His thoughts went out to both widows, and their children. Both as education director and as acting second-in-command of Sell, he was at the complete disposition of Mandalon 50, so tragically catapulted before his time into the headship of the most important house on Sell. Whatever little was in his, Atheron’s, power to help the leading house in such a terrible time of suffering would be done, whatever could help to erase the pain a ten-year old must feel at losing his father would be given. He finished by announcing the times of the tanato ceremonies for the men killed, and then performed the complicated Sell Cross.
As the tridiscreens blinked out Atheron gave a deep sigh – change had indeed come to Sell.
Chapter 13
IT WAS DIVA’S group who warned of the build-up of Elders around the outskirts of the rebel camp. They had been on their way back from a skirmish near Benefice, and nearly walked straight into the Elders’ hands.
“There are at least three thousand effectives,” said Diva. “Most of them seemed to be sycophants, from the uniforms, but there were a few Elders accompanying them.”
“There will be a battle,” sentenced Cimma.
“I think so,” agreed Diva. “They will find it hard to get rid of so many of us, though they may inflict severe damage. I think the younger children should be taken to the new mountain camp. They will be safer there.”
Cimma nodded. “We need to split our forces into various parts. It would have been better if the two new camps had had more time to get infrastructures in place, but it looks like now is a good time to evacuate this camp, before the Elders do it for us!”
There was a quick democratic vote amongst the rebels, and then everyone moved into their previously agreed roles. The high mountain camp would be home to the main part of the young children and women. Those who had an intermediate level of skill with weaponry would move to the second camp, half way between where the base camp now was and the mountain retreat. Those skilled in fighting techniques, or needed for logistics, would stay in the base camp, and prepare for battle.
There was a certain air of expectation in the camp. At last they were about to see battle, to fight for their right to have a say in Kwaide’s future. All the training had been leading to this moment. They were ready!
Six and Diva tried to persuade Cimma to move up to the intermediate camp, with little success.
“I have been waiting for this for too long to miss it now,” she told them. “I don’t care what you say; I have absolutely no intention of missing all of the fun.”
They gave up in the end. She refused to leave the no-names she had trained, and they could understand how she felt. She still had to wear the orthogel brace, so they just hoped that Arcan would in some way be aware of what was going on around her, would be able to take care of her. They contacted Grace to tell her about her mother’s decision, and then wished that they hadn’t.
“I am coming to fight too,” said the Sellite girl firmly.
“You are not,” Six told her.
Grace tipped up her chin. “Who are you to say who may or may not come and fight?” she asked. “And anyway, why should you and Diva have all the fun?”
Six and Diva both looked like Coriolan monkeys who had dropped their bananas.
“And there’s no need to look like that! Just because I haven’t fought as much as you two have doesn’t mean I can’t be useful!”
“Of course it doesn’t. Look who brought the two spaceships back to Kwaide!” said Six, in a placating tone.
“And you can wipe that condescending smile off your face, Six! I mean to fight alongside everyb
ody else, and that’s that.”
“Like mother, like daughter,” muttered Six.
“What?” Grace had both hands on her hips and for once looked remarkably like Diva.
“Your mother would like her daughter,” said Six hastily, “to join her in the fight for Kwaide!”
“Naturally.” Grace inclined her head. “I am certainly not going to stay here safely on Valhai this time. So you can just get used to the idea!”
Something Six had said had started off a train of thought in Diva’s head.
“What if —” She bit her lip, “—what if they attack us from the air?”
Six froze. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he admitted. “That would mean they had use of the Sellite ships. Surely the Sellites wouldn’t fight on the side of the Elders, would they? They traded us two ships, remember?”
Grace gave a laugh. “The Sells would feed their parents to the Tattula cats if there were a bulk-cost proportion of over 5000 to 1 for them. And anyway, guess who is effectively the new leader of Sell?” She told them what had happened at the Valhai Voting Dome, and that Atheron had been confirmed as acting head of Sell until Mandalon 50 should be able to assume office.
“No!”
“Do you think he …? No, surely not. Even Atheron wouldn’t … would he?”
“Which,” went on Grace, ignoring the interruptions, “means that you can expect anything at all from the Sellites, because Atheron is as backhanded as they come. If he can see some profit in attacking both sides of the fight, he won’t hesitate for a moment.”
“I knew we should have left him in stasis around Nomus,” said Six, with a grim expression on his face.
“Then …” Diva went back to the original point, “we shouldn’t leave the two spaceships tied up to the orbital station. Atheron might decide to eliminate those two ships we made him give us. It would be one way to turn the page back, and pretend it never happened. We should probably put some sort of protection up to make sure the orbital platform isn’t destroyed. That would be a disaster for future trading with Coriolis.”
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