Carrington and Major Crais entered his quarters. Escobar rose stiffly from his desk chair and looked at the ceremonial sword hanging on the wall. He remembered when the old Commodore had given it to him before Escobar departed on this mission. The library screen, where he had viewed so many of his father’s exploits, was blank.
He turned to Carrington, his hands at his sides and fingers loose, as if to make it clear that he had no weapon. He tilted his chin up in a gesture that might have been interpreted as pride, but Carrington probably saw it as baring his throat. He remembered how she had slit the jugular of the naïve young comm-officer before he could send a distress message.
Maybe that was how she intended to kill him as well.
Before she could make a move, though, he surprised her by saying, “I understand that we must snatch these ships from the jaws of our enemy, at all costs. As Redcom, I have access to certain fleet command codes that are not in any standard manual. I … I still have a way to turn this around.”
Carrington seemed surprised. “I’m listening, Redcom.”
He looked away from the quiet Bolton Crais. “The majority of our troops have deserted us already, and the General demands our surrender. But I refuse to allow our remaining fleet to become part of his Deep Zone Defense Force. I’ll destroy the ships first.”
Bolton said, “He already has most of our fleet, sir. The ships are in low orbit, being boarded. What can we do about it now?”
“We can render them useless,” Escobar said with a hard smile. He felt a chill go down his back.
“Continue,” Carrington said, as if she were his superior.
“For logistical override, all of the command computers in this battle group are linked and accessible from the Diadem’s Glory. Those systems were installed and recalibrated at Aeroc before the fleet departed for the Sonjeera hub.”
“I know—I handled a lot of it,” Bolton said.
Escobar drew a breath. “I can trigger a cascade shutdown throughout all of our ships. There is a command virus embedded deep in the operating computers, and I can render the engines useless. The ships will drop out of orbit and burn up. Those soldiers who can’t get to the evac pods will die, but at least history will remember that we did the right thing.”
“Acceptable, Redcom.” Carrington nodded. “You have surprised me.”
Escobar felt sick, though, after he had fought so hard to keep his soldiers alive, and now he would be the direct cause of their deaths. It was an ignominious way to end his own career, and his life.…
Bolton had paled, and he fidgeted as he wrestled with his own thoughts. “But if our goal is to prevent General Adolphus from commandeering our warships, it may not be necessary to slaughter our personnel as well. The deserters are being taken off, but those who remain aboard our ships are the most loyal fighters, the ones who refused to surrender. They don’t deserve that.”
“It is their duty to die,” Carrington said, as if the answer were obvious.
“But it’s not necessary!” Bolton said. “Allow me to modify the plan: I can add a delay to the virus trigger. Give the General enough time to evacuate our personnel, let him put his own people aboard—and then the virus can activate the autopilot. I can reprogram it. The result is the same: Our ships will still burn up in the atmosphere.”
Escobar seized on the hope. “I have enough blood on my hands already. That seems like a good solution.”
Carrington looked as if she would argue with the idea, but then her thin smile was like a razor slice on a bare throat. “And by that time, our captured ships will be infested by his own people. Yes, Major Bolton, I can see the advantage in that.”
Escobar felt some of the weight lift from his chest. “And the General won’t be able to do anything about it.” He would still be a prisoner, but his plan would snatch the prize right out of rebel hands in a bold final gesture. “We will set the virus timer before we go to our surrender ceremony. It’s not the victory I had hoped for, but it will deny the advantage to the enemy.”
Carrington still looked dissatisfied. “We must do more than that, gentlemen. We have to eliminate General Adolphus himself, or all our other efforts will be irrelevant.”
79
After so many recent setbacks, Diadem Michella’s subjects had begun to grumble more loudly. The disruption of stringline traffic through the Sonjeera hub had been a disaster, and her engineers were working to exhaustion—and astonishing expense—to reconnect the iperion lines throughout the Crown Jewels. Also, despite vague excuses the government released to the media, the people knew the war against General Adolphus wasn’t going well, and that the original fleet had been lost. Not-so-discreet mutterings among rebel sympathizers were mounting.
Ishop had provided her with an excellent distraction, and he knew he would be rewarded for it.
With great publicity and indignation, Michella would expose Lady Enva Tazaar’s involvement in the assassination attempt and her collusion with General Adolphus. She was the perfect scapegoat.
By a stroke of good luck, Lady Tazaar had been on Sonjeera when the alien psychic blast severely damaged the hub and disrupted stringline travel. She could not go home to Orsini, and the Diadem’s guards arrested her—in public, with many media imagers in place; they timed their operation well, bursting through the door during a lavish dinner party and evichord musical performance. The startled noblewoman was hauled away to prison—for effect, Ishop suggested she be placed in the same cell where Governor Goler had been held. Tazaar’s party guests were questioned and eventually released, though under a cloud of suspicion. They helped spread the rumors.
The media played the story constantly, and Ishop arranged for the proof of Enva Tazaar’s conspiracy to be released in several stages, each piece more damning than the previous, which kept the scandal alive and at the center of attention. The distraction gave the Diadem breathing space to have her crews restore commercial traffic among the core worlds.
Though Ishop knew Enva Tazaar was guilty, he felt a twinge of remorse, considering what had happened to the Osheers seven centuries ago. It was also a shame that Enva was so strikingly beautiful and intelligent; he felt sure they could have made a fine team, two aristocratic lines raising themselves to great heights. Even Laderna approved of his assessment. In fact, Enva’s overall scheme to ally herself with the rebel General, assassinate old Michella, and reach an accord with the breakaway Deep Zone worlds had a great deal of merit. Secretly, Ishop and Laderna admired her large-scale planning.
But he chose to look on the bright side. With the Tazaars stripped of their family wealth, their holdings on planet Orsini would be ripe for the taking. And once the nobles accepted Ishop back into their fold, he was going to need a planet to rule. Yes, the timing would be perfect.…
The sentencing of Enva Tazaar was such an important event that Diadem Michella chose to officiate over the punishment herself. For the occasion Ishop wore his finest suit with gold buttons, part of his new wardrobe of expensively tailored outfits; Laderna said it made him look like the nobleman he actually was. As part of his reward for service, the Diadem had granted him a seat of honor in the front row for the proceedings. He sat there now, smiling and proud, gazing up at the old woman. But he was inexplicably nervous, and he felt perspiration on his smooth, clean-shaven scalp, as if he were the one accused rather than Lady Tazaar. Laderna sat in the general audience chamber as well, several rows back.
The immense entrance doors swung open, and a hush fell over the chamber as four soldiers in dress military uniforms escorted the prisoner in. Enva Tazaar attempted to walk with her head held high, but the heavy symbolic chains weighed her down. This once elegant noblewoman wore no gown or expensive jewelry, but rather a drab brown prison jumpsuit; her long blonde hair was matted, and she looked gaunt. Ishop saw the flicker of her gaze, the haunted aura of fear.
The evidence against her had flooded public broadcasts; all nobles in the chamber had seen the complete classified report (which
had also been leaked to the media). Enva Tazaar’s attorneys had filed protests and appeals, but they were merely pro forma gestures, not expected to accomplish anything.
As the prisoner shuffled forward, already ruined, the noise in the chamber increased; some nobles shouted insults, and Ishop noted that many of them were the same people who had been guests at her dinner party.
“Traitor!”
“Strip her naked and parade her through the streets!”
“Kill her!”
“Make her suffer!”
Enva halted at the foot of the Star Throne, and Ishop could not help but think of images from the much-publicized treason trial of General Adolphus more than a decade ago. She stared defiantly at the Diadem and did not plead for mercy. She had enough political savvy to know she had been caught in an unbreakable trap. As Enva held her head high, Ishop could not suppress his admiration for her.
Her father, Azio Tazaar, had been one of the early victims on Ishop’s list; by murdering the dyspeptic old blowhard, he had been responsible for placing her in power. She was magnificent now … but he had also engineered her downfall.
Seeing this broken noblewoman made him ponder how his Osheer ancestor had reacted when he was hauled before the ruling council, disgraced and stripped of his noble titles and wealth, hearing the decree that his descendants were to be cast out of the ranks of nobility for seven centuries. His hands clenched into fists.
The Diadem maintained a long and hateful stare, then said in a measured tone, “Lady Tazaar, you attempted to have me killed, and now I shall return the favor. You wanted to seize the Star Throne for yourself, and worst of all, you plotted with the Constellation’s greatest enemy.”
The anger rolling through the nobles sounded like the threatening growler storm Ishop had endured on his first visit to Hellhole.
“Every member of the Council has had a chance to review the files, as well as the ridiculous rebuttals your attorneys submitted. As Diadem, I am ready to make my pronouncement.” She sat back on the Star Throne, then surprised Ishop by looking directly at him. “I must express gratitude to my faithful aide Ishop Heer for offering a neat solution. His office discovered a useful and interesting clause in ancient Constellation law. We had all but forgotten about the provision, but it seems most appropriate now.”
Ishop maintained a demure, respectful smile as everyone looked at him, but he had no idea what the Diadem was talking about. His heart pounded hard.
Michella continued, “There is an old proviso in the Constellation Charter that can be used in extreme circumstances, when a noble so significantly breaches acceptable standards of behavior that simple censure will not suffice.” She squared her bony shoulders, made her voice more ponderous. “Enva Tazaar, you are stripped of your family wealth, including planet Orsini, but because your crimes against the Constellation are so extreme, your family must pay the price as well. Therefore, all members of the Tazaar family and their descendants are banned from the ranks of nobility for a period of seven hundred years.”
Ishop fought down a gasp. He had not made the suggestion to Michella, but suddenly he knew that Laderna must have done it. He turned from side to side, looking at the faces crowded in the general audience chamber, until he spotted her. She was grinning at him.
Laderna was such a dedicated partner, devoting her energies to advancing his cause. Now he easily grasped her logic in making this revelation to the Diadem: By pointing out the forgotten proviso in the Charter that endorsed banishment for seven centuries, Laderna was setting the stage for Ishop to step forward with his own claim. Since the Diadem now used the proviso to punish Enva Tazaar, she therefore explicitly reaffirmed its legality. Thus, when Ishop presented his own case, the nobles would have no excuse not to follow the same proviso.
Even so, he had a knot in his stomach as he watched the heavy blow of disgrace fall on Enva Tazaar, and saw the dark, hate-filled expression she could not conceal. He knew this was exactly what had happened to his own noble family. At some point seven centuries hence, would a resourceful Tazaar descendant write a list of his or her own that included one of Ishop’s family members? It was too far in the future to think about. Seven hundred years was a long time.
After the jeers and catcalls subsided, Diadem Michella continued, smiling now. “Prisoner Tazaar, criminal sentencing will commence within the week, after I consult with my trusted nobles.” The old woman waved an arm dismissively, signifying that the soldiers were to remove Enva from the chamber. “You have stained Constellation history and poisoned your own bloodline for centuries. At least you can serve as a warning for anyone else planning treachery.”
Amid cheering and clapping, Ishop knew that Michella’s consultation with the nobles would be nothing more than symbolic. In fact, he was sure they would all endorse the Diadem’s suggestion of a death sentence. Lady Tazaar’s fate was a foregone conclusion.
But the odd displacement in his feelings gave him pause, and he made another consideration. Perhaps he should take a different stance himself, since he knew what his own family had endured for seven hundred years. Was it a twinge of conscience? Ishop wasn’t certain, because he had never known what a conscience felt like.
* * *
A day later, Sonjeera was shocked when “Adolphus loyalists” succeeded in removing Enva Tazaar from her cell and slipping her out of the highest security zone. It was a daring midnight escape, which showed extensive knowledge of the Council City prison system and secret-access passages in the bowels of the ancient building. The uproar and further scandal dominated the public’s attention so much that the Diadem’s announcement of several restored Crown Jewel stringline routes went unremarked.
Ishop had hired his freelance team with great care and briefed the operatives with every detail they needed. He had himself slipped in and out of the noble prison chambers many times before, most recently when he’d murdered Louis de Carre. This time he did not inform Laderna of his plans, though, still fearing she might have some innate jealousy toward Enva Tazaar. Instead, he took care of every detail himself.
He did not breathe a sigh of relief until he received word that Enva Tazaar had been slipped onto a small black-market trade ship and whisked away to the Deep Zone world of Tehila. The disgraced noblewoman never even knew the identity of her surprise benefactor, nor would she unless Ishop found a way to call in a favor. With a little rewriting of events and payoffs in the proper places, he might even find “proof” that Enva was innocent after all, and return her to prominence in the Constellation—when the time was right. If that ever proved beneficial.
With the task completed, he eliminated his well-paid operatives quickly and efficiently, tying up the loose ends.
Very soon, with Orsini and all the Tazaar holdings available, and with Diadem Michella fully convinced of his worth, Ishop Heer would formally enter the ranks of nobility and take his long-overdue place.
It was better than a fairy tale.
80
Within five hours of Escobar Hallholme’s acquiescence, General Adolphus prepared to travel up to the Jacob, where he would meet with his enemy and accept his surrender. Though he knew the significance of what was about to occur, Adolphus did not relish the humiliation of Commodore Hallholme’s son.
The General was not a vindictive person. He simply wanted the problem resolved and the Deep Zone planets kept safe from harm.
Escobar’s task force had been overconfident, and so foolish in their assumptions that they did not adequately prepare for battle. Without doubt, the Redcom would have ordered his execution upon capture, or perhaps brought him back to Sonjeera in chains so the Diadem could make an even greater spectacle of him.
At Elba, as he put on formal clothing, Sophie seemed more satisfied by the impending surrender ceremony than he was, but she did not gloat, either. The DZ worlds had already suffered too much pain, and they both felt compassion for the haggard and malnourished soldiers aboard the Constellation fleet. When he’d cut the stringline,
Adolphus had never intended to put even his enemies through miserable months of deprivation. He knew how much the soldiers must hate him. Nevertheless, he had defeated them, and they were now his prisoners.
Sophie’s workers were already fencing off a large compound in the Slickwater Springs valley, where the prisoners would be held. They quickly erected tents, supply stations, prefabricated shelters—watched over by a contingent of armed guards.
“Those pampered Constellation troops don’t understand how rough Hellhole can be,” she said as she helped him with his uniform. “They might try to escape into the wilderness, thinking they can live off the land. Ha! The fences and guards will be mainly to save those people from their own stupidity.” She straightened his jacket, stepped back to appraise him. “You look so distinguished and handsome. I’m glad I bought back your jacket—it was worth every penny.”
Craig Jordan transmitted from the orbiting flagship that the Deck 3 meeting chamber was ready. The surrender ceremony could have been held in the much larger all-hands auditorium with the General’s loyal soldiers crowded in to watch the humiliation of the Constellation commander. Such an event would have twisted the knife, but Adolphus decided it was not necessary for Escobar Hallholme to suffer such indignity. Instead, he would broadcast the ceremony widely, and the inhabitants of Michella Town would watch and cheer the General’s victory.
An hour before the shuttle’s departure to rendezvous with the flagship, Devon and Antonia arrived at Elba, accompanied by Keana Duchenet. Along with all the shadow-Xayans here, they had been affected by the psychic backlash from the converts’ horrific deaths on Candela, which had occurred only moments after their gigantic release of telemancy to stabilize the planet’s seismic upheaval. Devon described the mental blow to all of them as an embrace of razors. The shadow-Xayans on Hellhole had been drained of energy and now struggled to regain their strength.
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