Challenge met, p.11
Challenge Met, page 11
Anticipating action at last, after weeks of imprisonment, he put his dress uniform on.
Amber chose a dress that would not reveal her bruises, though her chapped and swollen lips she would have to disguise. She watched herself as she crossed the room to finish dressing. She moved like a cheap and crudely assembled doll. Amber paused, caught in the mesh of her own stare and the thoughts it precipitated.
She should tell Jack. She knew the gentlemanly creed that was at the core of the man she’d loved—it was still there. The imprint had probably made him stronger than ever. Jack would kill Vandover, remembering her or not. But there would be retribution and she would never ask Jack to give his life up for her justice. And there was always the chance that Jack would not be fast enough to kill Baadluster before he ordered her to kill Jack.
She smeared her thumb over her lips, harshly, savagely, as if assessing how much pain remained in them. It was just her flesh, after all. Just flesh. Amber turned away then, unable to meet the look in her own eyes. Vandover had spilled his foul, black seed in her mind as well and she could feel it growing there. He had chains for her very thoughts—and would not hesitate to use them.
She finished her hair and makeup quickly, unable to meet the accusation in her eyes. She’d let him do it. But no, she’d fought and been beaten. There was nothing she could have done. Was there? Was there?
A sound at her door kept the tears from welling in her eyes. She signaled it open and stood quickly, expecting to see Jack standing there, ready to escort her to the audience, and she secured the last of her knives in her gloves. “Jack, you’re early—” Her words ground to a halt as Baadluster filled the portal.
He wore slate today, and a short overrobe that showed his whippet lean body. He looked, she thought, like one of the dark poisonous blades she had just hidden in her wrist sheath. He showed his teeth in a smile. “Milady,” he said, in that tone that oozed other meanings into what he said. Whore, she thought. He always means whore when he says that… and now he is right. “You were expecting someone else?”
“Old habits die hard,” Amber bit off. “What do you want?” She kept distance between them.
“Only the pleasure of your accompanying me to the hall. Pepys will be seated shortly.”
“I can find my way there alone.”
“Of a surety. But there is something I wish to say to you first.” And he halved the distance.
Her pulse skidded. “I’ve already done a job for you.”
“Amber, Amber. You don’t think I wasted all that money and those years in training for one name and one name alone, do you? That was just a demonstration for you and some of my opponents. A little warning that disobedience is futile.” His lips thinned. “Come here, Amber.”
Nausea rocked her stomach. She stepped toward him. The room had gone suddenly cold. “Not Jack,” she protested.
“No, no. Not Jack. Jack has to find St. Colin and, if we’re very lucky, bring home the secrets of the Ash-Farel.” He crooked his finger. “Closer, milady. I know your aversion to security systems and that you have this room well sealed, but some things are meant to be whispered.”
The hall looked resplendent. Laser holograms filled the domed roof with a silvery net of planets and stars depicting the worlds that mankind had touched. Banners rippled in the current of an unseen breeze. Voices filled the air, muted and multitudinous. Anyone and everyone who could possibly gain entrance had. They had not minded the wait since early dawn nor the shuffle through the weapons net for clearance nor even the near stifling crowding of the audience floor. All they had to do was stretch their necks and look upward, where the stars roamed freely above them.
A hush fell over the crowd as Pepys entered from the private chambers to the rear and took his place on the stage throne. A small, golden android came to the fore and cried out, “Oyez, oyez, his right honorable majesty. Emperor Pepys, sits in court to address the suits and grievances being brought before him. All hail Emperor Pepys.”
As the crowd responded, the Minister of War emerged and took his shadowy place to the right of the throne. Pepys turned and their gazes met. Vandover had been late, too late to discuss last minute details in the private chambers, so late that Pepys had even wondered if his minister would be attending him. As the emperor studied him now, he saw a few blonde hairs trailing upon the minister’s black vest. His attention immediately flicked back to the hall, but he could not see Amber among the throng. He did see Jack, to the left, his dress uniform bare of rank and honor, at attention.
Worriedly, Pepys turned his focus back to the ceremony at hand. He knew Baadluster intended to dispose of the girl soon. Looking at the crush of people before the dais, he wondered how and when Vandover would terminate her. An assassin could move through such a crowd easily. He got to his feet. The immense hall full of people fell to a hush.
“Good people. This is the first time the audience hall has been open since the known disappearance of Colin of the Blue Wheel, my friend and adviser, as well as the prelate of the Walker religion. Many of you have come to petition me to seek for him, unaware of the exhaustive search we have been conducting in conjunction with the Dominion and the Thrakian League. While his whereabouts are not certain, we do have some idea of where he intended to go when he disappeared.
It is my sad duty to inform you that he is not lost, he has been taken, in all probability, by the Ash-Farel.” Pepys paused dramatically, the vid-screens about the hall reflecting the vivid color of his green eyes in close-up. He listened to the gasps and cries of his distressed audience. His gaze lingered, on the stern visage of Margaret, Colin’s longtime secretary, who had helped him arrange this event. She stood in the cordoned off area before the platform along with others—Dominion senators, Walker ministers, ambassadors—who had specific permission to question him along with the different reporters and recorders. She showed no surprise on her hawklike face. He was only confirming what she was already privy to.
“I do not know why Colin placed himself in such jeopardy. It is our feeling that he hoped to treat with an enemy that has proven itself inscrutable as well as invincible. That would have been much like my old friend, to place the common good before his own welfare. But the fact remains that he is needed and wanted here, and if we can return him, we will!” Another pause, this one heralded by shouts and ovations. As he looked around, gauging the reaction, he saw Amber, in an emerald dress echoing the color of his eyes, edging closer. As if in response, Jack’s head turned as well, to watch her.
There was a spate of questions being shouted at him from the cordoned off section. He put his hands out palms up to quiet them. “Military response,” he said, “would prove futile. Our intelligence sources have not yet been able to pinpoint the sectors of space our enemy calls home. We cannot predict when or from where they will attack. We do feel that they have the capabilities to mount massive warships and leave them cruising at large, to take whatever opportunity they can to strike at us. This random pattern increases their invincibility as well as our vulnerability.”
Pepys halted. He reached for the goblet on the side table and took a sip of water to clear his drying throat. Vandover looked up at him through flat black eyes and smiled bleakly. The emperor nodded at him.
“My capable Minister of War, Vandover Baadluster, however, has defended us most ably. Within our alliance, we have begun to mount a defensive line, a stellar demarcation and thus far, we have been able to turn the Ash-Farel away along that front.” Hopeful lies, Pepys thought, but no one here with the information or the authority to contradict him.
“As for Colin, myself and my advisers have concluded that a small, handpicked unit will be the most effective way to search for him. To that end, I have conducted a search of my own for the man to lead that unit. You have all heard the rumors and now it is time to set them to rest.
About a year and a half ago, it was my sad duty to officiate at a funeral for an officer who had given much to our throne. Imagine my shock when information came to me indicating that this officer had not died, his body unrecoverable on a faraway world, but had instead deserted his command. We verified our intelligences and went in search of this officer. I brought him back with me for the sole purpose of locating Colin of the Blue Wheel and vindicating his desertion.” Pepys looked to Jack and found Jack’s attention already upon him. The rock steadiness of the man unnerved Pepys slightly. What confidence, to stand among a crowd which might well stone him to death for his betrayal. He motioned for Jack to join him on the dais.
There was a murmur of unrest, growing in volume, as Jack mounted the stage and came to parade rest to Pepys’ left. “Ladies and gentleman, the last living Knight of the Sand Wars, Commander Jack Storm.”
Pepys waited quietly through the commotion that followed, listening to the shouts and demands and half-scattered applause, timing his remarks to follow. After a few moments, he signaled his speaker and held up his hands for silence as the android called for it.
“Commander Storm is no stranger to controversy,” Pepys said. “But I have found in him a man who has always done as he believes is his duty. He has undertaken trials for me that would have broken a lesser officer. His courage and ability to think independently under fire are qualities that cannot be forced upon a man. He is the only officer I can think of who has a chance of going after Colin and bringing him home, if he is still alive.”
“He has asked me for this opportunity to vindicate himself against the charges of deserter and traitor.” Pepys hesitated. “I have decided to give him this chance. Finding St. Colin is a challenge, and I have the man to meet it.” He stepped back, leaving Jack alone to face the audience. “Ladies and gentleman, I give you Commander Storm.” He returned to his throne.
There was a stunned silence, then a sudden clamor as reporters pressed close to hurl their questions at him. Jack did not turn to look after Pepys. He had been half-expecting such drama from the emperor. He pointed at an individual and prepared to field his question.
“Commander Storm, why did you leave your post? Was it cowardice?”
The vidscreens posted about the hall seemed to echo the question in the sudden silence. Jack wet his lips. He saw Amber edge into the cordoned area and stand at Margaret’s elbow. The Walker secretary scarcely seemed to notice her.
He looked out. “Rather than answer individual questions, I would like to make a statement at this time. I left my command under Pepys because I felt the Thrakian alliance had compromised the security of the Dominion and the Triad Throne. I was wrong to do so. It was not my duty to question the decision.” Jack paused again. He could feel Baadluster’s stare on him, as well as that of Pepys. They had discussed this position with him and he did not know whether he betrayed his true self or not. “I took it upon myself to search out the nature of this new enemy, the Ash-Farel. Emperor Pepys has taken this into account, along with my service record, and decided that I would be the best man to undertake this assignment. I’m not sure he’s right—but I welcome the opportunity to prove myself a Knight worthy of the rank. Thank you.”
Furor broke out as he stepped back to flank Pepys. The emperor gave him a bemused smile.
Baadluster remained expressionless. Out of range of the speaker, Pepys said softly, “Now I know why I picked you for the job.”
But the audience was not pleased. Accusations and questions were hurled at them until Jack was forced to step forward and say, “No comment.” His silence drove them to further displays of their displeasure until Margaret approached the edge of the platform. Then the hall fell quiet.
“We will not,” she said, and the speaker carried her firm voice to the farthest corners of the chamber, “be placated by you. Your promises are as empty as most of the bellies on Malthen. You are an emperor who refuses to hear or represent our will and then tries to foist a traitor on us as a savior. It’s not good enough and we won’t stand for it. You no longer have a mandate to rule us, Pepys.”
Jack searched the crowd and saw his fellow Knights moving quietly forward to form a bastion between the platform and the audience.
Pepys stood again. “We are at war with an enemy that threatens to destroy us utterly. We cannot win that war if we are divided against ourselves!”
“That is a choice you’ve made.” Margaret pointed at him. She looked like a long-ago prophetess. “We are not divided against you.”
The aureole of his frizzed red hair wavered as he moved to the very edge of the dais to meet the Walker’s tall, commanding figure. “You threaten civil war. Officers, remove this woman.”
Jack looked at Amber, standing in Margaret’s wake. Vandover said something inaudible, and Amber’s attention snapped toward him. Then, with a tiny frown, she turned her gaze on Pepys.
The emperor let out a sharp cry. He swayed as the crowd, sensing something was wrong, began to scream.
Only Jack was close enough to catch him as the man went down.
Chapter 20
Other forces were in motion even before Jack reached for his falling sovereign. He could see the ripple of movement throughout the immense hall. As he put out his arms to catch Pepys, he called out sharply. “Amber! Get clear!”
Vandover seemed like a puff of charcoal smoke as he turned and bolted for the exit behind the dais. Pepys hit Jack’s embrace. Ribbons of crimson streamed from his ears and nose and one vermilion drop from his eye etched a tearlike path down his cheek. Amid the screams and jostling, Jack could hear the Knights and then the WP clearing the room, but his keen ears heard more—the sound of armed conflict in the hallways.
K’rok and his Thraks emerged at the portal, his armor streaked with smoke stains. The Thrakian Knights wore Enduros rather than the full battle armor, though they did have modified suits. The bracers and adapted headgear they wore now made them look like some kind of mutated cyborg. The immense Milot plowed to a halt.
“See this area is being secured,” he ordered. The Thraks fanned out, pushing the last of the crowd out, oblivious to the hysteria around them.
Pepys moaned as Jack lowered him carefully to the dais. K’rok loomed over them.
“Medical is en route, but the palace is being overrun. The Walkers came with an army, eh. What happened?”
“I don’t know.” Jack checked the emperor’s pulse. It was slow and erratic, but the man still breathed laboriously. He pulled aside the heavy imperial robes to give what ease he could. “He just collapsed.” He heard something at his back and saw Amber standing there. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Who would have thought Margaret could set off a revolution?”
“More likely she just gave a signal.” He turned his attention back to the emperor. The man’s hand was slack in his and the flesh was growing cooler by the moment. “K’rok, where’s medical?”
The Milot swiveled. “The corridors up here have been sealed off. They’re fighting their way through. Jack, I am getting reports that the airports and space berths have been taken.”
“The streets of Malthen are running with blood,” Amber said tonelessly. Jack turned quickly to her but could read nothing in her expression.
“Who’s in control?”
“For the moment,” Vandover said smoothly, as he returned from the secured privacy chambers to the stage’s rear, “it appears no one is. I’m in charge as long as the emperor is incapacitated, but the Triad Throne is under siege.” He looked at Amber and Jack. “I’ve just received word that the Thrakian League is closing in. They state that, as allies, they have no choice but to impose martial law in Pepys’ name.”
“Legal invasion,” Jack muttered. He stared down at the man on the dais who fought for every breath. “You son of a bitch.”
“Jack,” said Amber softly, warningly.
He looked up and saw K’rok with his gauntlets leveled on him. Jack smiled. “Don’t worry. He’s either going to make it or not without my help.”
The Milot in battle armor shifted away. By the time he reached the hall’s doors, he was in full stride, the floor ringing under every strike of the Flexalink boots. As he reached the corridor, fire flash illuminated him for a moment as eerily as if he’d been struck by lightning. The boom and yells and noise of return fire echoed in the empty hall.
Then K’rok reappeared, medical teams streaming in in his wake. Jack let go of Pepys’ cool hand and stood back to let them do their work.
Amber had changed from her gown to a jumpsuit of somber brown, a subtle resonance of the color of her eyes. She stood in the hospital wing, chewing a ragged edge of nail off one fingertip. She looked over at Jack. “If you were the man you’re supposed to be,” she said, “this wouldn’t have happened.”
“I’m not responsible for an aneurysm.”
“No. Of course not.” She looked smartly away.
Jack felt the edge of her scorn and anger. He also felt certain that he had given himself away before Vandover in the heat of the moment, but the minister had said little to him once Pepys had gotten out of surgery, the bleeding halted and his condition stabilized. The Triad Throne was under attack within and without and Baadluster had no time for him. Jack’s gaze ran over the obsidite walls. He loathed infirmaries, spent as little time in them as possible and yet it seemed as if recently all his days had been spent here. He paced away from Amber. It suddenly seemed necessary to be somewhere, anywhere, else.
With no access to the port where the worst fighting was centered, it would be impossible to get off-planet. Intelligence reports seemed to indicate that even Walker factions were splintered—and getting off world to find Colin would depend on who had control of the port. The Thraks’ heaviest concentration was being directed there and Vandover’s latest reports seemed to indicate the aliens were gaining ground. But the port was built like a fort, made to withstand the backlash of spacing vehicles… squat and solid, damn near unconquerable. It would be a long battle.
Colin was running out of time. Jack could not wait for the tide to turn in a long, drawn out civil war. He had to get off-planet and get off now. He sensed it in every fiber of his being. In all probability, Pepys and Baadluster, too, were playing a game of power far beyond his expectations. The resulting struggles would leave the worlds of mankind open to the Ash-Farel. Nothing would survive.
