Imperial rogue, p.23
Imperial Rogue, page 23
“Thank the Almighty for that. But Quessi will only be interim unless she presents her candidature for the position. Some of the others who might postulate have openly embraced Elana’s policies.”
“Then we must ensure they don’t accede to the supreme title.” Rianne frowned. “Did you hear that Clemenza said Elana’s mind had been scoured? She apparently reached into it a few minutes after death, and everything that had once been Elana was gone, as if blasted away. But she cannot find a reason why.”
“Indeed, I heard,” Bree said. “And also, that Ambassador DeCarde and Admiral Norum were the only ones present when Elana died.”
Hermina gave Bree a curious look. “You sound like you’re thinking about something in particular.”
“I might be.” Bree glanced around them to make sure they were alone. “Ambassador DeCarde has the talent. And a strong one to boot, although untrained. He can shut his mental barriers, and no one gets in. No one. He can also project rather strongly, albeit in an undisciplined manner. I fear that the re-education might have given him greater insight into his talent and enhanced it. Rather like the unfortunate Stearn Roget, of more than two hundred years ago, in the days of Sister Marta. Remember his story?”
Both Hermina and Rianne shuddered. Roget had long been the exemplar of an extraordinarily strong talent gone terribly wrong. Every Sister knew of him.
“You really think DeCarde killed Elana?” Rianne asked.
“It’s the only thing that makes sense. She might have tried to force herself into his mind, a sure way of triggering an uncontrolled, violent response in someone like DeCarde. Someone programmed him from a young age to resist any unwanted intrusion. With the changes the attempt at re-education made to his mind...” Bree shrugged. “We’ve been playing with fire, ignoring the experiences of our forebears during Marta Norum’s time. Forcing the sort of personality changes through re-education as we’ve been doing is bound to go wrong. I’m surprised it’s taken this long. It may be the first of many unexpected events.”
“You’re not only saying Ambassador DeCarde killed Elana, but we’ve potentially got more ticking time bombs who emerged from the re-education program?” Hermina sounded dismayed.
“Yes, and yes.”
“Is there a way to find proof so we can urge Sister Quessi to shut down re-education?”
“I can’t see any without betraying Ambassador DeCarde. And that, I will not do. Sorry. He is a good man. An honest one, who wants nothing but the best for the people of the Republic.”
“Yet he killed our Summus Abbatissa, if you’re right.”
“I still theorize that it resulted from an involuntary reflex rather than a conscious attack on Elana. She’d be just the type to try a main force assault on someone with mental barriers, and he’d have lashed out without wanting to.”
“What do we do with this information?” Hermina asked.
“Stumped if I know.”
Currag DeCarde knew full well he’d killed Sister Elana and had known the moment he did it. He was also aware of Stearn Roget’s story, thanks to family lore, and realized the re-education process had somehow turned him into a modern-day version of the crazed friar.
Ironic that both he and Roget had killed the Summus Abbatissa of the day, although Sister Gwenneth hadn’t deserved the end she met, while Elana was a different story. Besides, the latter had attempted to violate his mind with a forcefulness that belied her vows as a Sister of the Void.
Interestingly, he felt not a shred of guilt at having sent Elana into the Infinite Void. She wasn’t the first human he’d dispatched, of course, but considering she was probably a psychopath in black robes, what with her leading the Order of the Void deliberately into darkness, she was likely the most deserving.
What really intrigued DeCarde, however, was whether he could consciously blast the mind of someone like Derik Juska, who had no sensitivity and couldn’t trigger the defense mechanism that made him lash out at Elana. Now there was a man who desperately needed killing, before he destroyed both the Republic and the Empire in his disastrous war. And didn’t Stearn Roget almost kill President Morane, but Sister Gwenneth sacrificed herself at the last minute to save his life? This time, there wouldn’t be a strong Summus Abbatissa to rescue the president.
DeCarde resolved to try the next time they met with Juska. Even if he died along with the president, it would be worth it.
“You think we have another Stearn Roget on our hands?” Abbess Quessi, a short, elfin woman with a Sister’s ageless face framed by iron gray, mid-length hair, frowned at Sister Clemenza, who’d just finished speaking of her suspicions.
“We know for a fact that Ambassador DeCarde is something of a wild talent. Desra confirmed it early on in his re-education process. She had to take extraordinary measures to force his mind open.”
“Please use the right terms, Clemenza. The time of euphemisms to hide what we do has passed along with Elana. Desra employed torture,” Quessi said with distaste evident in her tone. “Something that will cease as soon as I issue my directives as interim Summus Abbatissa tomorrow.”
“Then what will the re-educators do with wild talents that refuse to cooperate?”
“Nothing because I’m also suspending the Order’s participation in the re-education program and other secular initiatives that I deem contrary to our vows, such as Sisters augmenting Naval Intelligence.”
“President Juska will not be happy.”
“I don’t really care about his happiness, Clemenza. Elana was leading the Order down the path of perdition. I will attempt to save it, provided it’s not too late. And on that note, you and the other two truthsayers will report back to the Abbey permanently. I hereby rescind your duties in the president’s office.”
Clemenza, hearing the finality in Quessi’s voice, inclined her head. “As you command, Summus Abbatissa.”
“And you will refrain from speculating about Ambassador DeCarde’s potential role in Elana’s death. She will undergo the proper rites, and her ashes will be dispersed as per the Rule. Officially, she died of unexpected cardiac arrest. That is the extent to which anyone will discuss her passing. I am aware rumors and gossip are already circulating concerning your findings in Elana’s mind, but you will not feed them. If you hear any speculation, please do your best to stop it.”
“Yes, Summus Abbatissa.” Clemenza hesitated, then asked, “Will you do anything about DeCarde potentially being another Stearn Roget?”
“As long as he doesn’t go crazy like Roget did, no.”
“Why do I get the impression you’re not particularly shattered by Elana’s death?”
“Because I’m not. While I’ve not made my vociferous opposition to her embrace of a greater secular role openly known, many were aware of it. I think her untimely passing gives the Order a chance to back away from her policies, regroup, and consider its future.”
“Understood.”
— 45 —
“Sir, the new Summus Abbatissa, Sister Quessi, for you on a link.” Juska’s executive assistant had poked his head through the open office door rather than call the president on the intercom.
The latter looked up, let out a soft grunt, and touched the control surface embedded in his desktop. Almost immediately, the hologram of a serene-looking Sister appeared above the desk.
She — or rather her image — nodded. “Mister President. Thank you for taking my call.”
“For the Summus Abbatissa, I always have time.”
“You may change your mind when you hear what I have to say.”
A frown creased Juska’s forehead. “That sounds ominous. But before we discuss those issues, we should probably talk about Sister Elana’s funeral. She was one of the Republic’s most important leaders, so I see a state ceremony honoring her life, with me presiding. What do you think?”
“Nothing, Mister President. The Rule of the Order proscribes any sort of ceremony for the deceased. Under the Rule, we will remember her at the evening service tonight, then we will cremate her body and scatter her ashes in the Abbey’s orchard. Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, and dust to dust. That is it.”
“Surely someone of her stature deserves more.”
“We are all the same in death, and our remains return to the earth in the same manner. There can be no discussion about this.”
Juska gave Quessi a hard stare, which she returned measure for measure. Then, he relented. “Very well. What was it you wished to discuss?”
“I am changing the Order’s direction from that taken by Elana and returning us to what we should be — spiritual guides doing good for the community in positive ways. It means that as of this morning, I have withdrawn the Sisters from the re-education program, the Naval Intelligence aid program, the OSR, your own office, and various other secular work that should never have been ours. You may have noticed your former truthsayers are no longer at their posts.”
“What?” Juska reared up, completely blindsided by Quessi’s pronouncement.
“Elana’s push to implicate the Order in more and more secular business that had never been within our remit has caused great dissension among the Brethren. As the Summus Abbatissa, albeit on an interim basis only at this time, I have ended Elana’s experiments. It is not the Order’s place to meddle with minds, assist in repression or warmongering.”
“You can’t do that!”
“I can and I have. The Brethren’s obedience to my directives is absolute under the Rule because they conform to the Rule. Elana’s directives didn’t, and she only got away with it by pitting factions against each other within the Order and using unsuitable Sisters to carry out her most egregious tasks. Those Sisters find themselves relegated to isolated and widely scattered priories for the rest of their lives as of this morning.”
“Damn you. I’ll find a Summus Abbatissa who’s willing to cooperate with my government, and then you’ll be exiled to an isolated Priory on Arietis or another dying world.”
“You can send the OSR or even the Marines to arrest the lot of us, but you will find no one willing to obey any direction you give. Not even among the unsuitable Sisters. You may do like Dendera and many of the rebellious admirals did and massacre the Brethren, but bending us to your demands is not something that will happen. Ever. And the public outcry should you attack us will bring your government down in fire and blood. The rank and file of the Defense Force will mutiny, for sure, no matter who the admirals and generals pledge allegiance to.”
Juska, whose fury at the dismissive abbess had been growing by leaps and bounds, said through clenched teeth, “Take care with your words, Sister. I rule the Republic and can end the Order with a single command.”
“I doubt that. You and Elana were building a repressive regime calculated to control the daily lives of billions on the shaky basis of cults of personality. Elana held the Brethren in thrall to her vision. With her death, that vision has turned to dust. You also hold your followers in thrall, and your disappearance will also mean the end of your vision because you have a lot fewer devotees than you think. Most show enthusiasm at your utterances because they don’t want to be singled out as dissidents, not because they believe in what you say.”
“Enough, Sister,” Juska growled. “But know that withdrawing your services condemns the Order to irrelevance and eventual extinction, because you no longer have a use for my government, and those who have no use are relegated to the dustbin of history. Goodbye.”
He stabbed the control surface embedded in his desktop again, cutting the link, incensed that he’d lost his composure with that insufferable abbess. It was as if she’d been trying to deliberately provoke him. But she was right. He could do little against the Order in the short term and would simply have to wait and see who replaced Elana permanently. Juska felt his usual calmness return. He’d long ago learned not to obsess about matters beyond his control. Still, he would prepare a campaign against the Order in secret, ready for use if Sister Quessi became the next substantive Summus Abbatissa.
“Mister President, Admiral Norum, and Ambassador DeCarde are here for your meeting.”
The executive assistant’s voice over the intercom brought Juska back to the present. Life must go on, even though the Order of the Void had suddenly transformed itself, if not into an enemy, then into a neutral whose leader disdained his regime.
“Send them in.”
Both Norum and DeCarde wore appropriately somber expressions as they entered Juska’s office.
“Mister President.”
Juska waved at the chairs in front of his desk. “Please. Terrible business with Sister Elana.”
“Indeed, sir,” Norum answered. “But according to your physician, it was one of those unexpected things.”
“I know. He told me. But you were there. How did it happen?”
Norum went through the sequence of events once again, brief though it was.
Juska nodded, rubbing his chin. “A strange occurrence, but perhaps she suffered from an undetected heart defect. Not that we’ll ever know. The Order won’t allow an autopsy and is preparing to cremate her remains today. A shame. Elana and I shared a vision of the Republic’s future.”
“And Sister Quessi holds different views?” DeCarde asked.
“Quite different, Ambassador. They run rather contrary to mine. She’s withdrawn the Sisters working with my government save for traditional roles, like military chaplaincy, hospitals, palliative care centers, and the like.”
Norum’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean no more Sisters in the re-education program?”
“No, nor in Naval Intelligence or the OSR. Such programs are effectively dead in the water. I don’t know what we’re going to do with the people currently in them.”
“Send them back to prison,” DeCarde said flatly. “If they’ve not completed the process, then they’re unreliable.”
“Probably. They’re worthless to my government if they’re not reformed. I might as well order their execution.”
DeCarde tried to feel anger at Juska’s reply and lashed out with his mind, but his half-hearted energy throw felt like it splashed against nothing.
Still, Juska’s eyes narrowed, and he reached up with his hand, squeezing the bridge of his nose between thumb and index finger.
“You’ll need to excuse me, but I suddenly seem to have developed a blinding headache. We’ll postpone today’s meeting to another day. I’ll have my executive assistant contact you.”
Hearing dismissal, Norum and DeCarde stood, bowed their heads briefly at the president, and filed out of his office. As they walked back to the Guesthouse, without an OSR escort by now, both having been deemed reliable enough, neither spoke nor glanced at each other until they were halfway between the Palace and their residence.
“Strange that the president got a sudden headache,” Norum said, keeping his eyes straight ahead.
“Isn’t it?” DeCarde replied in the sort of offhand tone that told Norum everything he needed to know. “He must be developing something.”
“Shame, that.”
“Yep.”
— 46 —
Wyvern
Second Empire
“Wyvern Control, this is the Imperial Navy Ship Marlene. Requesting an approach vector to Joint Base Byzance.”
“Marlene, this is Wyvern Control — received. Stand by for instructions.”
Paget knew the civilian controllers would contact the Navy, pass along Marlene’s particulars, and ask for guidance. If Byzance wasn’t ready to take the ship, they would mandate her to stay in a parking orbit for however long it took. Five minutes passed before they called back and gave him a path through Wyvern’s atmosphere to the joint base, advising that Marlene would come under Byzance control when she reached ten thousand meters.
“Okay, Sela. Time to sit,” Paget threw over his shoulder at Reeve, who was doing something in the galley.
She appeared on the bridge moments later and took her accustomed workstation, facing the primary display, which showed a big arc of Wyvern’s blue-green-white beauty.
“Home sweet home, eh, Hal?”
“Yeah. It’s good to be back. This time, I hope we’ll get a few weeks of leave before our next mission.”
They began their descent, and as soon as they passed ten thousand, Byzance came on the link and instructed them to land in one of the enclosed bays. Not long afterward, Marlene decelerated until she hovered over the base riding her vertical thrusters, then slowly dropped toward the assigned bay. She settled on her stubby legs, and the whine of the thrusters faded away.
“We’re here.” Paget stood and stretched to ease muscles that had tensed during the landing process.
“What now?”
“First, we report to Captain Delibes and advise him of President Juska declaring war on the Empire after the attack on Gennari. I doubt the task force made it back yet, and they wouldn’t know about the declaration unless they were specifically listening in on civilian frequencies during their time in normal space.” He leaned over and touched a control screen, and the sound of the belly ramp unlocking and dropping filled the ship’s still air. “Come on.”
They made their way out of the bay, across the tarmac, and to the HQ building. Once inside, they found Captain Delibes’ office, and Paget knocked on the doorframe, the door itself being open.
Delibes looked up from his workstation and smiled. “Come in, come in. I’ve been expecting you ever since traffic control informed us of your arrival.”
“We’ve had an interesting time in the Republic, sir.” Paget and Reeve took chairs across from Delibes’ desk.
“What happened? I notice your two passengers aren’t with you.”
“The Republic’s authorities took them in shortly after going ashore on Yotai. However, they seem to have joined President Juska's entourage since then. I don’t know how or why. The OSR investigated us while we were grounded. — oh, hell, it’s time to end the charade. Arrest Reeve. She’s a Republic Naval Intelligence operative and holds the rank of lieutenant. Considering President Juska declared war on the Empire after that task force struck Gennari to take out the damned biolab we couldn’t destroy, she’s officially an enemy agent.”
