The Szuiltan Alliance (The Szuiltan Trilogy)

by Neil Davies

  A series of small explosions ripped through the people near Steve, innocent people trying to get out of the way of the slaughter. Someone fell against him and he twisted, landing badly, jarring his elbow and knocking the back of his head against the floor. Unconsciousness loomed up at him, dark and welcoming, and he felt himself slipping away.

  The last thing he remembered seeing, as the screams and cries around him faded into nothingness, was a frighteningly familiar face on a walkway high above, a face grinning, looking straight at him.

  Suzex!

  "This time they've gone too far, surely everyone will see that?"

  Leader Lane threw the report down onto his desk thinking, maybe even those followers of the true faith who doubted my strong tactics in this will now see sense, see the rebels for what they truly are. A danger to the whole of Aks, the whole of my world.

  "What was the cause? Do we know?" He looked across to Suzex who sat at ease in a chair against the far wall of the office.

  "It would seem to be some sort of argument between rebel gangs. One side tried to remove the other from the scene."

  "But at a spaceport for Larn's sake, where there are so many innocent people around!"

  Suzex shrugged. "Do they care?"

  Lane glanced at the report again.

  "Twenty-six people dead, and no idea yet on how many are rebels, how many just normal citizens. Larn knows how many just wounded."

  "It should damage their popular support I would think."

  Lane stared at Suzex. The man was so cold, so calculating. However, there was some truth in what he said. This incident would not do his administration any harm, perhaps even some good. A terrible price to pay for it, of course, but even so...

  "I want more visible activity against these rebels. People must see that we are doing something about them."

  "Of course," said Suzex, his voice oily with satisfaction. "And you should increase the number of Bosen patrols. They should be more visible, not just brought out for special work."

  Lane hesitated. His people hated the Bosens, feared them. But Suzex was right. They should be brought into the frontline against these rebels. It was time to take the war to them.

  Suzex watched the Leader closely. He could almost see the thought processes working, the gradual acceptance of the Bosens as a major factor in the fight against the rebels.

  Good. He no longer thinks of them as an invasion. They are part of his administration's fight against his enemies. It's almost time to hit him with the next part of the plan.

  "It's a pity we don't have more Bosens," said Suzex, apparently to himself but directed at Lane. "With a larger presence we could really finish this."

  Lane nodded slowly, his thoughts racing. More Bosens. It would be a risk to his popularity, but surely any lost support would come flooding back when the rebels were wiped out?

  Suzex smiled. Now. Remind him now.

  "I couldn't help noticing the message from the President of Szuilta on your desk earlier."

  "Yes, I'd almost forgotten." Lane searched for the message, found it. "A request for a personal meeting. The President wants to come here to Aks."

  "What better time or excuse? He could bring more Bosens in his party. No one need know their real purpose until it's too late to stop it. You could destroy the rebels totally."

  Suzex watched as Lane turned away to look out over Akasian. He saw the square set of the shoulders, the upheld head. Here was a man who felt great responsibility and who had come to a decision, a brave decision that he was convinced was the only right one for him and his people.

  Now we have him, thought Suzex with satisfaction.

  Chapter 49

  Loadra bowed slightly as he entered the dimly lit room, the smell of real leather and the wafting aroma of genuine percolating coffee filling him with a sense of privilege and luxury. This was one of the most private rooms within The Temple, the home and offices of Earth's Larnian religion, and he always felt grateful each time he entered it.

  It was occupied today by three other High Priests, each of them looking at him silently, almost accusingly. He bowed to them a second time.

  "I apologise for being late. It was unavoidable, as I'm sure you understand."

  There was no reaction from the others and Loadra took a seat, feeling some of his tensions slip away as he fell into the caress of leather upholstery.

  The silence continued.

  I can play that game too, thought Loadra, noting that two of his greatest rivals in Council were present at the meeting, High Priests Helione and Conia. He would have to watch them. They would take any opportunity to undermine his position.

  High Priest Zeina, leader of the High Council and a tall, imposing figure even without his badge of authority, broke the silence.

  "Tell us how you view the arrival of the Szuiltans on Aks."

  So, thought Loadra, I'm being tested in some way. He glanced at the almost imperceptible smiles on the faces of Helione and Conia. They are behind this. What have they been saying?

  "It would seem," said Loadra, his voice filled with a confidence he did not feel, "that the priests of the Aksian theology and their faithful Leader have taken yet another step away from the true faith."

  "Well spoken," said Zeina. "Your disdain for the Aksian version of our faith is well known and obviously strong. However, what of the Szuiltans?"

  "Alien heathens," answered Loadra without hesitation.

  "What do they hope to gain from this alliance with Aks?"

  Why are they asking me questions about these aliens? What is the real purpose of this meeting?

  "Who can fathom an alien mind? The Aksians hope to gain more power and, ultimately, victory over Earth, but what the Szuiltans hope to gain... who can say?"

  "Quite so," agreed Zeina

  Silence fell once more in the room and Helione rose from his chair, poured four coffees and handed them out.

  The pleasure of real coffee was subdued for Loadra as he tried to foretell the direction of the next question.

  I could just ask them what they're doing, but that would be a sign of weakness, a sign that I'm concerned. I must stay quiet, wait for them to break the silence as they did last time. They will reveal themselves soon enough.

  It was Zeina, once again, who spoke first.

  "How are you handling Lichfield as Miss Harrison's personal guard?"

  Ah, this has the feel of the true reason. This is their concern then. But why?

  In the months since Lichfield's appointment by the Controller, he had made every effort to ignore the Lieutenant and treat him like the piece of furniture he was.

  "I have no problem with it."

  "It has been suggested that perhaps your previous personal involvement with Lichfield could be a liability to us in our negotiations with Reagold's representative."

  Loadra glanced at the other two priests, silent but gloating. They will pay for this!

  "Lieutenant Lichfield is a soldier and I treat him like any other soldier in that position. When he is there I ignore him. When he is not I don't miss him. I don't believe my judgement or skill is in any way impaired by his presence. Those who suggest otherwise do not truly know me."

  "But surely the humiliation caused you by the appointment of this Lichfield as a member of the Controller's personal guard is compounded by this latest appointment?" said Helione.

  "Some might see it so," answered Loadra, his voice calm, in control, with no hint of the anger that began to seethe inside. Now they join the fray themselves, he thought. Their confidence borders on arrogance, unless there are others in the Council who think likewise?

  "How do you see it? Don't you feel humiliated all over again?" This time it was Conia who spoke, the slight whine in his voice irritating to Loadra’s ears, as always.

  "You keep using the word 'humiliated', yet I never felt that way. I was angry, certainly, that the mutinous Lichfield should be promoted when I requested him, at the very least, dishonourably dischar
ged, and I have no doubt that the Controller's intention was to humiliate me, but I found it little more than a mild irritant, a slight loss of face. Nothing more."

  Perhaps not the complete truth, but close enough, and the alterations suite my needs.

  "Perhaps we can return to the subject of this recent appointment?" said Zeina, and Loadra thought he detected a note of annoyance in his voice.

  So, the Leader of the Council dislikes the interruptions from these other two. Interesting and potentially useful.

  "The area of concern is twofold," continued Zeina. "First, your reaction and ability in the face of the situation, and second, what wider implications there might be."

  Loadra nodded an acknowledgment towards Zeina. Let him know I understand his anger at these others and that I agree with him.

  "I have already described my reaction, and I don't believe my ability is in any way impaired by Lichfield's presence." Loadra's voice was low, generating a sense of calm in the room. The tension that had been building was stripped away by the control in his tone. He was determined to appear above any personal likes and dislikes that may be involved in this confrontation. He held the most senior position a High Priest could hold, barring Leader of the Council, and he would show how such a person should behave, with dignity and composure.

  "And what of the general implications of this appointment? What does it tell us about the Controller and his motives?" Zeina's voice imitated the tone of Loadra's, two senior High Priests radiating calm and control.

  Let Helione and Conia reflect on our similarity, thought Loadra gloatingly, the unspoken bond between holders of high office.

  "The Controller obviously sought to cause me further loss of face, and perhaps to push me into an ill considered reaction. He has failed on both counts."

  "Is Lichfield spying for the Controller?"

  Loadra smiled, pleased at how this conversation had turned into a two-hander, excluding Helione and Conia as if they were beneath consideration.

  "He is undoubtedly reporting back, it would be unthinkable if he didn't, but I don't believe him to be a spy in the sense you mean. His reports will be from simple observation. Lichfield is a soldier, a uniformed soldier, and from what my sources tell me, he holds the dislike of clandestine operations that many of his kind do. I think it highly unlikely that he would involve himself in any such arrangements."

  "I agree. My sources tell me the same."

  His sources? For a moment Loadra was surprised, but then he allowed himself a small metaphorical shrug of the shoulders. Of course Zeina would have his own spies, both within the priesthood and the Controller's government.

  "And you assure me," continued Zeina, leaning towards Loadra to emphasise the importance of his words, "That you are in complete control of yourself where this Lichfield is concerned? That you harbour no grudges, no desire to harm or discredit him in any way? Such moves would seriously impair your usefulness to us."

  "I am aware of that, and I assure you there are no such thoughts in my head. Lichfield does not concern me." A slight bending of the truth, but not even Zeina's trained eyes and mind would be able to detect it beneath the veneer of sincerity he generated.

  "I knew as much, Loadra, but I needed to hear you say it." Zeina turned to the others. "I am satisfied. Thank you for your concerns, they have been noted and I hope this resolution allays your fears. You may go."

  The dismissal was abrupt and almost impolite. Zeina was making his own feelings on the accusations raised against Loadra obvious. Helione and Conia were not in a favourable position.

  The two priests mumbled farewells and left the room quickly and quietly.

  "I apologise for all that, Loadra, but they had followed the correct channels for expressing a concern. I had to follow it up so as to lay it to rest."

  "I understand Zeina. I am glad that you're satisfied with my answers," said Loadra, taking another sip of his coffee, this time savouring the flavour, the aroma.

  "I never doubted you old friend," said Zeina. "We have been on the Council for a long time, you and I. Too long to allow ambitious young priests to come between us with silly questions." Zeina paused, took a drink of his coffee. "However, while you're here, there are some other questions that I would value your thoughts on."

  "Certainly," said Loadra, relaxing back into the leather chair, his muscles finally losing the tension that he had been largely unaware of.

  "We have received some information that suggest the Szuiltans and the Aksians are planning something big, something more than the normal skirmishes in space."

  "Do your sources suggest what kind of something?"

  "One source suggests they will invade Earth itself."

  "Preposterous!" snorted Loadra. "They wouldn't dare. It is strictly forbidden."

  "I agree. I feel they will step up the attacks on our merchant vessels en-route to Sellit with trade. They will try to do to us economically what they have failed to do militarily."

  "Sellit has never shied away from sending its traders into war zones. I doubt they could seriously hurt us."

  "What if they destroyed Sellit?"

  Loadra sat forward, considering the idea carefully.

  "Surely they wouldn't. Sellit is neutral. Attacking a neutral planet like that would have all kinds of repercussions throughout the free and colonial worlds."

  "Nevertheless, Leader Lane has made an alliance with these aliens for some reason. He is too power hungry to just hand it over. And their priesthood makes no noise about these new arrivals."

  "The Aksian priesthood does as its Leader commands. They have no individual rule, nothing away from the government."

  "We have contacted Sellit with our fears, just in case, although most of the Council are in general agreement with your thoughts."

  Both sipped their coffee, allowing the soothing effects of the drink to take effect. Loadra put into words what both of them were thinking.

  "I can't see this new alliance being any sort of real threat to us."

  Chapter 50

  Steve woke to a strange scrabbling noise at his ear. He opened one eye, stared for a moment at the ten legged Aksian insect wandering aimlessly nearby, and squashed it with the flat of his hand.

  I feel terrible!

  He rolled onto his back, his head screaming against the movement, and his foot kicked one of the two empty MBP bottles that lay about him. His stomach threatened to empty its contents and he clasped a hand over his mouth until the threat receded. There was not much in the way of food in there, but what there was he wanted to keep.

  Why do I do it? Every morning for, what, five weeks? Feeling like shit. Just about surviving until the next bottle is brought to me.

  They had kept him well supplied, although he suspected their motives were more to keep him out the way than any form of friendship or kindness.

  As his eyes adjusted, painfully, to the semi-gloom he took note of the activity around him. The rebels were preparing for another raid. He could see them checking weapons, smell the oil and grease used for maintenance, almost taste the atmosphere of excitement and fear. They all knew the risk of never coming back. They all faced the uncertainty, the threat of it all ending for them in just a few hours' time. All except him. He had never been on a raid, never been asked and never volunteered. He was there on sufferance. He was there because he had arrived with a Trading Inner Council agent. He was there because he was the town drunk, and every town, even the nomadic town-like community of the rebels, should have their object of ridicule and disgust.

  Perhaps I feel like shit because I am shit? I don't belong here. I'm a trader! I'm not an agent or a rebel, just a trader. I should be on my ship, trading, buying, selling.

  "What the fuck am I doing here?" he mumbled, his voice hoarse, his words cracked by the foul tasting dryness in his mouth.

  A young girl, barely in her mid-teens, glanced up from where she was cleaning an old but reliable automatic handgun. She did not speak, but her eyes made Steve turn
away. Her thoughts were clear. I don't know either, and I don't care.

  He had made an effort. He assured himself that he had tried. After the fiasco at the spaceport, the bloodbath that had lost a lot of popular support for the rebels, when he had woken from his unconsciousness, having been carried to safety by the T.I.C. agent woman, Ursa, he had tried to join them, tried to become one of them. He was rebellious by nature, always looking to buck authority, and there was a hatred within him at that early stage, a hatred for the Aksian government who had tried to kill him at the spaceport, and a hatred for the Szuiltans they seemed determined to ally themselves with, the Szuiltans who were implicated in Jack's murder. It had seemed natural that he would join the rebels, natural until that first raid.

  The raid had gone smoothly. He had been frightened, but no more than many of those around him. It had seemed a simple objective, to break into local shops at night, steal the provisions they needed, and at first it had gone smoothly. But then the alarm had been tripped, the security had arrived, the shooting had started. Steve had never fired a gun in anger in his life. He had trained on the firing range, a normal part of growing up for an apprentice trader, but he had never had to shoot at anyone. He had frozen. A young man, veteran of many such raids, had been shot dead near him and he had never rid himself of the thought that he might have saved him. He had seen the man who pulled the trigger. Perhaps he could have fired first?

  He pushed himself up on his elbows, fighting the nauseating swirling of his head.

  Why do my hangovers feel so much worse now than they used to? Am I getting old, or is it the circumstances? Do I really care?

  "I'm never going to drink again." He belched, only just keeping down the vomit that rose in his throat.

  This time the girl spoke. "You say that every morning, and every night your face is in those bottles again. Why don't you just keep quiet, crawl into a corner and die or something?"