"We were worried that if we used a dummy round and she jumped for the gun, then there was just the anticlimactic click of a trigger, she might have been able to pull herself together, maybe claim she had done it because she couldn't bear to watch even simulated violence. After all, she was Pax Humana."
"That's the real irony," said Thelm Georg. "I'm not, not anymore. Last night, I didn't just check the reference net information about the succession. I also looked up a few things in the Pax Humana regulations. The moment I became Thelm, I was automatically expelled from Pax Humana and released from my oath."
"Sir?" Jamie asked. "What--what do you mean?"
Georg spread his arms wide, taking in the whole planet. "I wouldn't last five minutes running this place if I was sworn to renounce all violence at all times. That would just bring on a civil war and get everyone killed. But the Pax Humana bylaws recognize that there can be circumstances when renouncing violence would simply invite chaos. If a Pax Humana member was on the Podunk town council and the mayor and police chief were convicted of fraud and forced to resign, all of a sudden you'd have a sworn pacifist as acting police chief. In such cases, it is mandatory that the PH member be automatically released from his oath in order to be able to enforce the law and keep the peace. That rule applies here--just on a slightly larger scale."
* * *
It took a few days to sort things out. It always did. And a few nights of uninterrupted sleep on more or less human-style beds, and days of eating human-style food that came from the same kitchen that was feeding the ruler of the planet, were just what the doctor ordered. And so was a walk about the grounds of the Keep. The Keep itself was already undergoing repairs, and the purposeful bustle of the work crews seemed to add energy and enthusiasm to everyone around them.
Jamie and Hannah were strolling with Zahida. Moira was up ahead, taking the Stannlar Consortia out for a little run. At least, that was how Moira saw it. The sight of the two huge, immortal, translucent slug shapes cavorting with a human child was not one seen every day, and Jamie was very glad they were there to see it.
On the night of the killing, the two Stannlar had been nearly ready to summon their spacecraft from orbit and use it to flee Reqwar. The destruction of their antijamming coins, which, they assured everyone, acted as tracking devices, but not as listening devices, had been enough to make the Stannlar think they were already under attack--for the coins were integrated subcomponents of the Stannlar. Given all the other events of the night, the Stannlar had, perhaps understandably, regarded the wrecking of the coins as something very close to a preliminary assault on themselves.
Thelm Georg was strolling as well, in between the two groups, keeping just a bit to himself--except for the discreet presence of his security detail.
"I don't know if you've heard the latest," Zahida was saying. "That wise-guy suggestion you made about a plea of premeditated self-defense? It's just possible the Court of High Crime is going to buy it."
"What?" Hannah cried out. "Marta Hertzmann murders the head of state, and my sarcastic comment gets her off on a technicality? It's not safe making suggestions around you people."
Zahida laughed. "No, no, no," she said. "You people still don't understand how this places works." Zahida held up the fingers of one hand and starting ticking off offenses. "Tampering with a Dueling Weapon with Malicious Intent. Unlicensed Modification of Certified Ammunitions. Arson. Unlawful Discharge of a Firearm. Contemplating the Death of a Sovereign. Unauthorized Manufacture of False Evidence."
"Unauthorized manufacture? You mean you can get a permit for producing false evidence?"
"Yes, but the paperwork is a monster to get through," Zahida said, in a perfectly serious tone of voice.
Jamie couldn't tell if she was kidding or not, and decided it didn't matter. "So she's being charged with all that?"
"Oh, no. She's already been declared guilty of all that--and probably a few other crimes, in a courtroom that doesn't go out of its way to attract publicity. Enough to disqualify her from the inheritance, which was the main thing, and also to put her away pretty much wherever and for however long the government wants. They can do all that a lot more quietly than executing the Thelm's wife for high treason. So they let her off on the main charge on a technicality to avoid a death penalty, and throw the book at her otherwise. Don't forget, she is the Thelm's wife. Georg can't divorce her for four years after the death of the old Thelm. Besides, it's considered bad policy to announce that the sovereign has been murdered. It gives malcontents ideas. Lantrall, Thelm of all Reqwar, died in a tragic and accidental fire."
Jamie had to wonder if that was good justice, or wise policy--and then decided he was glad it wasn't his problem. "So what will happen to her?"
"Weirdly enough, it was Allabex who came up with the idea--from ancient Earthside history. Some group called the Romans, ruled by people called Caesars. Ever heard of them?"
Jamie smiled. "A little something." It was a startling glimpse behind that California-accented English, that easy assumption that she "knew" Earth. Zahida obviously had never heard of the Romans. And he had known even less of her culture when he had been mad enough to make suggestions about how the Thelm should conduct his affairs and run his family. He hoped fervently that he had learned his lesson. "The Romans are named after the city of Rome," he said. "It's still around."
Zahida nodded eagerly. "Oh! Right! I didn't make that connection. Anyway, when one of the Caesars had a daughter or a wife or whatever who caused too much trouble, but was too prominent to execute--or maybe the Caesar just could not bring himself to sign the death warrant--they picked out an island far enough from everywhere else that you couldn't swim back from it, and put the offending family member on it, and dropped off supplies once in a while. They're going to update the plan a little bit--arranging for Moira to visit, for example--but they're shopping for an island now." Zahida nodded at Thelm Georg and his daughter, up ahead. "It's the two of them I worry about," she said. "Aside from Marta, the only two humans on- planet, wrapped in a security service blanket at all times. They're going to be two very lonely people."
"No they won't," said Jamie. "The decrypting operation is about to kick into high gear. They'll need contractors, technicians, specialists. And you can bet UniGov will want to plant an embassy full of advisors here. There was a deal to allow human settlers on at least one continent under the old Thelm, and I'd be very surprised if that wasn't expanded. There will be lots of techs coming in with their families. Lots of children for Moira to play with, sooner than you might think."
"What about someone for Thelm Georg to play with?" Zahida said, and the expression on her face made it clear how she meant that.
It was Hannah's turn to laugh. "Your people still don't understand how our people work. 'Young, handsome, likable male, separated from spouse and awaiting divorce decree, runs own planet, in search of female companionship. Respondent must be willing to become incredibly wealthy.' A lot of those technicians and specialists are going to be female, you know. He won't be lonely one day longer than he wants to be. I'd be willing to lay odds Georg marries his new consort four years and one day after the death of Thelm Lantrall."
"Good," said Zahida. "He and Moira both deserve to be much happier than they are."
"I agree, all around," said Hannah. "But my information is that there's another deal brewing--one that concerns you. But for some reason no one will tell me anything."
"Well, yes," Zahida said. "It's all in the early stages, but we're putting something together to, ah, regularize the succession. I know, I know, a week into Georg's reign, and we're sweating the succession. But we all just got a lesson in why it's important to keep these things tidy."
"So what's the plan?" Jamie asked. There was a certain hesitancy in the way Zahida was talking about it that gave him the sense that she needed a little push to say more.
"Georg will decree that a Pavlat must succeed him, and that henceforth all Thelms must be born Reqwar Pavlat. I
t was always assumed they would be--but the law says nothing, and we've seen what happens to assumptions. Georg will go further and specifically disbar his own children and their descendants from the succession. He doesn't want Moira turned into somebody's chess piece or hostage thirty years from now. He will pick out one or two of the High Thelek's illegal activities and discover to his regret and surprise that they disbar the Thelek from the succession. He will therefore declare the High Thelek ineligible for the Thelmship, but he will designate the Thelek's male descendants as heirs to the Thelmship."
"Except the Thelek doesn't have any descendants," Jamie objected. "His wife and daughter died years ago, and all his sons have gotten themselves killed one damn fool way or another."
"That's, ah, where I come in," Zahida said primly, but blushing bright green. "The Thelmship will descend through the Thelek's male line--on condition that the Thelek will, well--provided that he marries me, thus closing out a blood feud that has caused so much trouble for so many years. The High Thelek will not take the Thelmship--but he could live to see his son do so, and possibly serve as his own son's regent. And, ah, of course, with the line of property inheritance broken by Marta's criminal convictions, she can't inherit. Georg would therefore make me his heir of property--provided I marry the Thelek."
The two humans said nothing, but walked along, staring at Zahida in stunned silence. Jamie could think of a thousand things he could say--but none of them would be very diplomatic.
Zahida walked along, staring straight ahead. "Don't go all horrified on me," she said. "One, don't forget, we Reqwar Pavlat do things differently from humans. Two, this was my own idea. I sold it to Thelm Georg as the plan with the best odds of getting the Thelek to stop plotting ways to get the Thelmship, by giving him a stake in the present arrangement. It might even work. Three, don't forget, my family ordered me home for the express purpose of being bargained about in the marriage market, and I obeyed the summons, even if I wasn't that enthusiastic about it. I've just come up with a far more profitable arrangement than anyone expected--and one that ought to lift the exile off Bindulan, and the unfair stain of dishonor from the clan. Four--there are plenty of human women who might trade life with a wearisome husband in exchange for stewardship over the wealth of a whole world."
Jamie kept his mouth shut, and let Hannah be the one to answer. "Good points all," she said. "I wish you well," and left it at that.
"Thank you," she said. "And don't waste time feeling sorry for me. I am going to do very, very, very well out of this bargain."
Jamie had to smile at that. He glanced over at Zahida, and wondered if the Thelek knew exactly what he was getting himself into.
"The one I really feel sorry for is Brox," said Zahida, obviously trying to change the subject. "He behaved with perfect honor in all this. He had the good sense to watch out for the Kendari's long-term interests, instead of the quick win that would turn into a permanent headache. I just hope his government has the sense to see it that way, once he goes home empty-handed."
"Who says he's going home empty-handed?" Hannah growled. "Thelm Georg is already thinking like a Reqwar Pavlat instead of a human. He figures the planet is going to need all the help it can get, all the contacts, all the investment. And maybe a little healthy competition will keep the prices down. Brox has hired some off-planet Pavlat named Nostawniek as his local rep, and he's going home with a stack of contracts taller than he is."
"Good," said Zahida. "Good for us--and I'll bet it's good for you Younger Race types too, in the long run. Both of you. Get you working together--or at least, working next to each other, without trying to kill each other."
"I suppose," Hannah said. "I'd have to admit I'd vouch for Brox a lot sooner than I'd vouch for a lot of humans I could think of."
There wasn't much else to say after that, and they walked in silence through the weary, worn-out grounds of the Keep. But if the Keep could be repaired, then, with a little luck, so too could the landscape, the whole ecology, be renewed, reborn, reset. And we're the ones who gave it the chance for that to happen, Hannah told herself. That was worth taking pride in.
Night was coming on. The stars were coming out. In the morning, a Pavlat ship would take Jamie and Hannah back to the Hastings, and they would begin the journey back to Center, and home. "Well," said Hannah, "mission accomplished. Assuming the Hastings doesn't blow up when we light the engines--but that's not going to happen."
"What do you mean, 'mission accomplished'?" Jamie asked.
"Commandant Kelly gave me strict orders to get you home alive," she said. "I came pretty close to disobeying that one."
"Yeah, but you didn't," said Jamie. He looked up at the stars, bright and clear, shining points of hope and promise in the nighttime. It was a sky, a galaxy, a universe full of possibilities.
"I wonder," Jamie said, "where they're going to send us next."
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Roger MacBride Allen was born September 26, 1957, in Bridgeport, Connecticut. He is the author of twenty science fiction novels, a modest number of short stories, and two nonfiction books.
His wife, Eleanore Fox, is a member of the United States Foreign Service. After a long-distance courtship, they married in 1994, when Eleanore returned from London, England. They were posted to Brasilia, Brazil, from 1995 to 1997, and to Washington, D.C., from 1997 to 2002. Their first son, Matthew Thomas Allen, was born November 12, 1998. In September 2002 they began a three-year posting to Leipzig, Germany, where their second son, James Maury Allen, was born on April 27, 2004. They returned to the Washington area in the summer of 2005, and live in Takoma Park, Maryland.
Learn more about the author at www.rmallen.net, or visit www.bsi-starside.com for the latest on the BSI Starside series.
NOVELS BY
Roger MacBride Allen
The Torch of Honor
Rogue Powers
Orphan of Creation
The Modular Man*
The War Machine (with David Drake)
Supernova (with Eric Kotani)
Farside Cannon
The Ring of Charon
The Shattered Sphere
Caliban
Inferno
Utopia
Ambush at Corellia*
Assault at Selonia*
Showdown at Centerpoint*
The Game of Worlds
The Depths of Time*
The Ocean of Years*
The Shores of Tomorrow*
NONFICTION
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*Published by Bantam Books
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BSI: STARSIDE: THE CAUSE OF DEATH
A Bantam Spectra Book / March 2006
Published by
Bantam Dell
A Division of Random House, Inc.
New York, New York
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved
Copyright (c) 2006 by Roger MacBride Allen
Bantam Books, the rooster colophon, Spectra, and the portayal of a boxed "s" are trademarks of Random House, Inc.
eISBN-13: 978-0-553-90138-2
eISBN-10: 0-553-90138-9
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v1.0
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One: Flight
Chapter Two: Loss
Chapter Three: Briefing
Chapter Four: Departure
Chapter Five: Paxers
Chapter Six: Miracles
Chapter Seven: Brox
Chapter Eight: Jump
Chapter Nine: Risk
Chapter Ten: Work-Arounds
Chapter Eleven: Entry
Chapter Twelve: Hand
Chapter Thirteen: Fire
Chapter Fourteen: Reunion
Chapter Fifteen: Minder
Chapter Sixteen: Thelek
Chapter Seventeen: Thelm
Chapter Eighteen: Life
Chapter Nineteen: Death
Chapter Twenty: Crime Scene
Chapter Twenty-One: Lock-Down
Chapter Twenty-Two: Theories
Chapter Twenty-Three: Conference
Chapter Twenty-Four: Conclusions
Chapter Twenty-Five: Conspiracies
Chapter Twenty-Six: Confrontations
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Confessions
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Convictions
About the Author
Also by Roger MacBride Allen
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