Chapter IX
Was he dead?
Since every definition Tarlac had ever heard referred to the physicalbody, and since his was undoubtedly a corpse, he supposed the answerwould have to be yes.
But he didn't feel dead. He wasn't in that body any longer; he was agood two meters above it, held there by an immensely powerful,immensely benevolent presence. In the normal course of events, hesomehow knew, he'd go elsewhere--to wherever his self found mostcomfortable or fitting--but for some reason he was supposed to remainhere.
Traiti took leave of a clanmate as they greeted a new one, bytouching--in his case, touching forehead and wounds as Hovan had, to showrespect for one who had died in the Ordeal. Tarlac wanted to tell themthat no farewell was necessary, that he was still there and he'd helpthem survive the coming defeat.
The presence wouldn't let him; the time was not yet right. Instead, hewas drawn away, out of Ch'kara's gathering hall and through some kindof interface, to what looked almost like a grove of oak trees on Terra.
It wasn't; the light was wrong. No, he corrected himself, that wasn'tit. Everything was too right. What he could see wasn't brighter asmuch as clearer, and his surroundings--the trees, the grass, even thesky--seemed to have a vibrant internal luminance. This was beauty of akind no planet could hold, pure and utterly serene.
He might not know what was going on, Tarlac decided, but if this wasdeath, there was a lot to be said for it. He'd have liked to have abody, though, to let him feel and smell as he could somehow see.
There was a feeling of amused agreement, and he did have a body. Sodid the eleven Traiti now in the grove with him, three females andseven n'Cor'naya, all of whom shared the luminance of the grove. Heknew without looking that he did too, and that he was dressed as hisoriginal body was, in open-shirted uniform. He also knew by now whothese people were; their images stood on the upper tier of every Traitialtar.
"Welcome, Ruhar," said the one Tarlac recognized as the presence whichhad brought him here. The voice was as clear and pure as the light."And welcome to your place in the Circle of Lords."
Tarlac recognized him from the statuettes and from his Vision. He tooka deep breath of the sweet, vital air before he spoke. "My place, LordKranath? I'm human, not Traiti."
"In body," Kranath agreed, smiling. "In mind you are both, and havebeen since your conception. We insured that. The human body onCh'kara's altar means nothing. Here you--and we--can be either. Thinkof yourself as Traiti, Ruhar."
Remembering his Vision of being Kranath, and before that the time atthe altar when he'd felt as much Traiti as human, Tarlac did as he wastold. There was a brief indescribable sensation, and when he ran histongue over sharp triangular teeth, he realized that his experience asKranath, impressive as it had been, was only a shadow of this--seeming?--reality. He touched his face, ran fingertips along the scarson his chest, extended and retracted powerful claws . . . yes, thisbody felt as appropriate as his own. And the grove's other occupantswere now in human bodies.
His place, Tarlac thought bemusedly. He didn't think he quite likedthat idea, and for a moment he let himself indulge in a fantasy that hehadn't died but was in the middle of a hypoxia-induced hallucination.It didn't last; he knew that what he was experiencing was quite real.He was in a Traiti body that fit him perfectly well, though he'd preferthe familiarity of his human form.
He felt the sensation of change again, and the glade's Traiti and humanLords returned to the bodies they'd first had. "One's original form isusually best," Kranath agreed calmly.
"You have accepted that we exist," Sepol--Lord of the Ordeal--put in."And you have accepted the abilities of those who went before. Why,then, are you so reluctant to accept the fact that we have called youto join us?"
Tarlac shrugged. "The same reason, I guess, that I don't like the ideaof gods who interfere in mortal affairs. It goes against my grain."
"Relax, Steve," Lord Carle--Tarlac would have said Lady, inEnglish--advised him. "What we do is less different from your earlierwork than you can yet realize. And you have time to ease your mindbefore you absorb the knowledge and powers you are heir to. Sit anddrink, Ruhar."
When a tall, cold glass of green liquid appeared in his hand, Tarlacaccepted it and sipped. The taste of authentic mint julep recalled theonly Kentucky Derby he'd seen in person, shortly before the war; amagnificent chestnut filly named Lady Jess had won.
He let himself enjoy the drink in peace, relaxing his mind as Carle hadsuggested. If she was right, and he had no reason to think otherwise,he'd know everything soon. He sat crosslegged on the grass, thinking.Now he knew what the First Speaker had meant when she called him "childof two worlds"--and he remembered that before his adoption, Arjen hadaccepted that Daria's telling Yarra about him had been no breach ofsecurity. The Lords, as Traiti clearly knew, told their Speakers farmore than the Speakers passed on. But it seemed odd--
"No," Kranath interrupted the forming thought, "neither bodies norrefreshment are truly necessary. They are pleasant, though, and weoften create them." He smiled again, and Tarlac could feel hisamusement. "Those who went before left us Godhome, which gave usawesome power, but we remain, if you will excuse the expression, human.We see no reason to deny ourselves such things. Since mind is thearchitect of reality, we construct what pleases us."
"Mind is the architect of reality." Tarlac took another sip of hisjulep, then thought about it becoming a mug of coffee. It responded tohis will, and he drank; it was the best coffee he'd ever tasted.
"You see?" Sepol said gently. "You are one of us, Lord Esteban, andthat fact no longer disturbs you."
Tarlac started to contradict him, then he realized Sepol was right. Hedid accept what he was--and what he was to become. He still wishedthey'd explain a few things, though. Why they'd taught him Language,why he'd really had to take the Ordeal, why he'd been rushed throughit, and most importantly, why he had been called to the Circle.
"To complete it," Kranath said, sitting beside him and materializing amug of chovas. "I ended the clan wars, to begin the current cycle ofhistory; a human must end this war, with our help, to begin the next."
The rest of the Lords, except for Sepol and Carle, vanished. "It allties together, Steve," Carle said. "I taught you Language so you couldcomplete the Ordeal quickly, and so you could communicate easily withyour n'ruhar. We did not teach you forestcraft, because there wassomething you had to learn for yourself while Hovan taught you that."
Tarlac nodded almost immediately. "How to open up," he said. "Even. . . that I could open up, to love a whole clan and not be ashamed ofit."
Kranath nodded. "Yes, and you learned it quickly, despite your humanconditioning. I had to learn to be alone, you to be close--even themost minor of gods must know both.
"Someone subject to external limitations, as a Ranger or ruler is,should have no bias. We are limited only by our own feelings, though;everything we do must be tempered by love for our charges."
"External limitations?" Tarlac chuckled. "I'd say I didn't have many!"
"You had the ultimate limitation, Steve. Mortality."
"Huh?" Tarlac found that his coffee had remained at the perfectdrinking temperature, and took another swallow.
"You could give almost any order and have it obeyed, granted. But ifsomeone disliked what you did or commanded intensely enough-- You havea saying that nobody is safe from a truly determined assassin, nottrue?"
"I hadn't thought of it like that, but you're right. And you--no,we--can't be killed." Then Tarlac frowned. "Godhome gave you a choice,Kranath. It said you had to be willing--why didn't I get that option?"
"Did you need it?"
"I don't understand."
"Did you need it?" Kranath repeated. "It seems to me that you hadalready made the choice."
"Ruhar," Carle said gently, "you have been both Ranger and Cor'naya,earning high status in both societies, and Daria was right when shetold you that was vital to peace.
Tell me, though: would that havebeen enough? Were you persuasive enough to convince two star-spanningcivilizations to cease ten years of hostility just with words? Is anymortal?"
Tarlac shook his head. "I'm an operator, not much of a diplomat--Linda's the expert at that, and I don't think even she could bring thatone off." He looked at them speculatively, then nodded. "I guess I dounderstand, at that. I did choose this, didn't I? Twice, and withoutrealizing it."
The three other Lords smiled proudly at him. "Yes," Kranath said."Once when you accepted Ranger Ellman's invitation, once when youaccepted the Ordeal. That you were persuaded into both decisions isirrelevant; none of us chose this without persuasion, neither I nor anyof the others."
"And I think I know why you need a human Lord, too. We're going tohave to work on both sides to end the war. The Imperials would hardlylisten to one of you--in your own form, anyway--where they will listento a Ranger."
Kranath smiled. "Exactly. And as you have correctly surmised, we donot take on each other's forms. Not only would it be dishonorable, itwould be unwise; those who hold great power, those to whom we usuallyneed to appear when Speakers' words are insufficient, have enoughpsionic ability to tell us apart." Kranath projected mild amusement."Humans included, though they have not as yet developed that abilityconsciously."
"Which means I'll have to go back to my body. That's the only way tokeep intervention to a minimum." Tarlac thought for a moment. "Withany luck at all, I won't have to do anything obvious enough for humansto notice. The Empire doesn't need a new human religion to cope withat the same time it acquires a new Sector--if things work out the wayI'm hoping."
"You will allow the respective rulers to make the final choice, then."
"I'll give them the information they need to choose intelligently, butI won't tell them what to do." Tarlac sensed approval, and this timeknew where it came from; he smiled. "Thanks."
"None necessary, Ruhar," Sepol said. "We are merely pleased that yougrasp the necessities, even before your full maturity. Go on."
"Well, I won't be able to avoid open intervention with the Traiti; I'llhave to tell all of them what I saw in Kranath's Vision. I don't likeshowing off like that, but at least they're accustomed to Lordsmanifesting from time to time."
"I did not like it either," Kranath agreed, "when I had to intervene soto end the clan wars. We all do what must be done, though." He put anarm around the man. "If you are ready, Brother, we should begin."Brother, not ruhar. Tarlac smiled at that human touch. "Yeah. Let'snot waste time." Then he remembered. "Hey, what about Jim? TheEmpire can't afford to lose two Rangers at once--now less than ever."
"No," Kranath agreed. "He is still in critical condition, but RangerMedart will recover fully."
"Thank God!" Tarlac exclaimed reflexively.
Then he realized what he'd said, and what he was; he laughed at theirony. "Thanks, Kranath. All right, I guess I'm ready. Go ahead."
With that, he felt the Supreme Lord's immense power enter his mind andbegin work. What he'd experienced in the Vision was only a shadow ofthis reality, but it had prepared him as nothing had prepared Kranath.Despite what he could only think of as having his innermost mindforcibly stretched, then stuffed to near-capacity before beingstretched again into what felt like hyperdimensions, he was inabsolutely no pain. Instead, he felt . . .
Exaltation.
He'd been made into what a number of humans and Traiti would be intime. That he could know such glory while others were still sorestricted was something that was, with his new knowledge, asinevitable as it was regrettable. Yet, since it was inevitable, hisregret was of necessity dispassionate. Others would achieve thisstate, and he would greet them with joy. In the millennia before then,he had a job to do, helping to guide this galaxy's intelligences asthose who went before had intended.
He felt an amusement like Kranath's, but this time it was his own.Humans had established the Empire and thought themselves and theirvitality supreme; but the Traiti supplied the gods, the subtleguidance. And, he now realized, the Irschchans provided--or rather,would provide--ritual to bring those together. The cloudcats, the onlyrace to remember the Others who went before as a vital part of theirhistory, were the observers and reporters. None of them yet knew theirparts of the whole, or could be allowed to know until they reachedmaturity.
For them it would be a natural process. He was the last to be forcedto his full potential, to complete the Circle of Lords. He could seenow how he'd been quite literally molded, as Kranath had said, from themoment of his conception--and he'd had a mostly-pleasant life. Sincehe could understand and appreciate the necessity, he could feel noresentment at the manipulation. It was as inevitable, historically, asthe Traiti war itself.
Now he had almost total free will, but his mental patterns were longestablished. He would use his new powers as he had been intended to.
Chapter X
Hovan didn't feel much except fatigue and hunger as the time forSteve's Transformation neared. He'd held vigil for the full day,without sleep or food, and he felt the effects.
It would be over soon, he thought tiredly. The Lords had promised anhonorable peace, so he believed it would come about, though he couldn'timagine how. But it still didn't seem right that Steve had succeededso well in the Ordeal only to be denied knowing the peace he'd enduredit to bring about.
He saw a preliminary flicker of blue and closed his eyes against theexpected glare. When seconds passed without it he opened them again,and saw instead gentle blue radiance pulsing from Steve's body.
For a moment he was stunned, unable to believe what it meant. Suchthings belonged in Speakers' histories, not in life!
Then, slowly, he smiled and nodded to himself. Steve, the human Rangerwho had become a Cor'naya in hopes of helping both races, fearing butaccepting death for that goal--yes, Steve deserved to complete theCircle of Lords if anyone did.
Yarra and Daria had returned for the Transformation. Hovan exchangedglances with his Ka'ruchaya, but the Speaker stood motionless, herexpression one of exaltation--until the radiance vanished and Steve satup, his wounds healed, swinging his legs over the altar's edge andstanding up. Then Daria bowed, hands formally crossed over her chest,and Hovan and the rest of the clan followed suit.
Tarlac watched, without pleasure, his n'ruhar's display of awedreverence--no, outright worship. It was the Traiti way, and necessaryto them; his personal dislike of it was irrelevant. To the clan thathad adopted him, the people he cherished, he was a god, one of theCircle of Lords--as the new, twelfth statuette which had materializedon every altar showed. He could only accept the homage.
But he was also still of Ch'kara. After a long moment, he said, "Okay,I've changed, but that's enough. We're still n'ruhar."
They straightened, still radiating awe. Tarlac could sense the clanboth as an empathic entity and as the individuals composing it:Ka'ruchaya Yarra's joy that one of her n'ruesten had been chosen tocomplete the Circle, Daria's exultation and love for him and theirdaughter, Hovan's deep pride that it was he who had adopted and thensponsored the Ranger . . . even unformed pleasure from the youngling inDaria's body, already a part of the clan's emotional life. Finally heknew exactly what a Traiti clan really was, and how privileged he'dbeen to be adopted by this one.
It was time now to give them their full heritage, with safeguards hehadn't expected to have when he first made the Decision his Ordeal haddemanded. He sensed the other Lords' invisible presence as theyprepared to watch over the enormous number of individuals that, despitethe war's heavy casualties, still made up the Traiti race. They'd helpease the shock of his revelation, and even though Tarlac would bespread thin imaging himself in so many places, he'd reinforce Ch'karahimself.
He let his love enfold them as theirs had him, before he began to speakto the Traiti race. "You all know of me, and you know I was a Rangerof the Terran Empire. Your Speakers and Ship-Captains have told youwhy I took the Ordeal and what I've be
come."
He paused, smiling. "What they didn't tell you, because they didn'tknow, is what you are. That's a duty I'm glad to perform. The Lordswelcomed me to my heritage; let me welcome you to yours."
He paused again, extending his arms as if to embrace them all, and, asKranath had shown it to him, showed them their true homeworld. Heexplained their origins and their rescue from Terra. "So," hefinished, "you are our relatives, by ancestry as Terran as I am. TheEmpire has known as little of this as you have, but it will; and by itslaws, you're already Imperial citizens."
He felt their consternation at that, their unwillingness to believethey could be part of what they'd fought for so long. Then some beganto realize the changes this revelation should bring, and he sensedtheir first stirrings of real hope. Satisfied with that beginning, helet his image and presence fade from all but two gathering halls, hisown and D'gameh's. At D'gameh, he addressed one of the males."Arjen?"
The Fleet-Captain, wearing brilliant blue-and-gold robes in-clan, boweddeeply. To be name-called by such a one--! "Yes, Lord. How may Iserve you?"
Lord. Tarlac shrugged inwardly; it was his title now. "You did apretty nasty job for the Circle when you picked me up the way you did,and I know how badly it upset you. We appreciate it, and I'd like toask something else of you that may make up for it, a little. May I?"
"Of course, Lord." This time it was Arjen who didn't know what wasgoing on but couldn't refuse.
"It'll mean cutting your leave short, I'm afraid. I'd like you to havethe Hermnaen ready for takeoff tomorrow morning, with just the shipcrew, no combat troops. You'll be carrying the human prisonersinstead, plus the Supreme, the First Speaker, my sponsor Hovan, andmyself."
"You, Lord?" Arjen knew he shouldn't question a god, but why would onewant to travel by ship?
Tarlac understood Arjen's question. "I could transfer myself--or allof us, for that matter--but humans aren't as ready for open divineintervention as Traiti. I'd rather let things seem as normal aspossible. Can you arrange for the ship?"
"Of course, Lord. We will be ready at daybreak."
"Thanks." Tarlac returned fully to his mortal body at the Ch'karaclanhome. Arjen's pride in the assignment pleased him; it would easethe Fleet-Captain's lingering discomfort at having violated thebody-return signal, even by the First Speaker's--the Lords'--orders.Many in D'gameh shared his uneasiness, and calling Arjen by name wouldrepair the reserve Tarlac had sensed toward him there.
Ch'kara's gathering hall was beginning to empty, his n'ruhar respondingto his desire for normality. Finally only a small group remained atthe base of the dais: the First Speaker and Supreme; the twophysicians, Channath and Jason; and Daria, Hovan, and Yarra.
Jason, the only human, was also the only one who couldn't quite seem toaccept the human Ranger's new status. Tarlac appreciated the irony andwas amused by it, but it didn't really matter. "Doctor," he said, "Ineed your professional opinion. Are the prisoners fit to travel?"
The doctor was a professional; his expression hardened. "No, sir,though I can only speak for those held in the same camp with me--"
"That is all of them," the Supreme broke in.
"Okay. Go on, Doctor."
"Yes, sir." Dr. Jason began ticking off objections on his fingers."We've had marriages, so we've had pregnancies; one's near term, andtransition might put her into premature labor. Then there are a coupleof new ones, wounded, still on life support, and one the Sharkstortured for information. There are maybe half a dozen others withminor injuries or illness, nothing serious."
He shook his head. "Once the Sharks figure they've gotten all they canfrom someone, we get medical care the equal of anything the Empirecould provide--especially the women." His admiration, howevergrudging, was obvious. "They're as good at trauma as I've ever seen,and a lot better at gynecology and obstetrics. My wife says she wantsa Traiti doctor if she ever gets pregnant. Damned if I know whythey're so good."
Tarlac seized that chance to find out how an ordinary Imperial citizenwould react to the Traiti sexual imbalance. "I guess you've never seena Traiti clan instead of their military, have you? Until now?"
"Sir?" Jason looked puzzled, then shook his head. "No, sir, Ihaven't. Why?"
"How many women would you say Ch'kara has? It's typical."
"I didn't see many, sir, maybe a quarter of the ones here. Guess noteven Shark women like seeing someone get hurt."
"He was the Ordeal taking," Yarra said in English. "All who could herebe, him to honor, were. You the right percentage saw."
Dr. Jason understood the implications at once. "Jesus H. Christ!They've got to be good with women, then--and childcare, too. But whatabout my patients?"
"Only four who aren't fit to travel," Tarlac said thoughtfully. "Noreal problem, then; I can give them support, though it won't beobvious. Take them along, in the Hermnaen's sickbay."
"If you can do that, sir, why can't you heal them?"
"I could, but I'm not going to. You heard what I said about keepingthings as normal as possible. If I healed them, I'd be expected toheal others, and it would escalate from there. I'll give them the samechance they'd have if they weren't being moved, no more."
Tarlac didn't like that, but what he'd said was true. Godhome had beenright when it told Kranath that refraining from action was often harderthan taking it--and that too much intervention would harm, not help,even when it meant allowing suffering and death he could stop by an actof will. He sensed Dr. Jason's resentment at what seemed likecallousness, and knew the man simply didn't have the scope tounderstand. "My word as a Ranger, Doctor. If I do more than theabsolute minimum to help your patients, in the long run it coulddestroy the Empire. And that I will not risk."
"I can't argue, sir," Dr. Jason said grimly. "May I be dismissed toprepare them for the trip?"
"In a moment, Doctor. You're free to tell the prisoners anything youthink appropriate about what you've seen here, though I doubt you'llfind much belief if you mention my death and return."
Jason shook his head. "I'm not sure I believe that myself, sir, and Iwas here. I'll just say you passed the Ordeal and we're going toTerra."
Tarlac smiled. "Good. That should satisfy them." He turned to theSupreme. "If you'll provide escorts and transportation?"
"Done, Lord," the Supreme said promptly. "They will be at the Hermnaenby daybreak, as the First Speaker and I will. By your leave, then?"Both rulers bowed formally and held that attitude.
"Granted," Tarlac said. As they straightened, preparing to leave, heturned back to Jason. "Dismissed, Doctor."
When the out-clan visitors had left the gathering hall and Channath hadexcused herself, Tarlac very deliberately went to Hovan and put hisarms around his sponsor, his head on the massive chest. Hovan tensedat the touch, and Tarlac realized the Traiti couldn't help himself.
Tarlac backed off, looking up. This time he had to relax Hovan. "Am Iin-clan or not?" he demanded. "I still have today and tonight to bemyself, here. If you can't accept me any longer, say so, and I'll meetyou aboard ship."
"Lord--"
"Hovan, help me. I've been hurt--hell, I've died--and I'm still shaky.I'm not used to my powers yet, and it takes most of what I can do toreanimate this corpse." That was true enough; Tarlac simply didn'tmention that the other Lords would add their power to his if he neededit.
He knew it was a shock for the clan to lose someone in the Ordeal, andonly Ch'kara had ever lost a member to the Scarring and had himreappear as a Lord. And he was newly adopted and an alien; it was theclan that needed to be helped most, and calling on it for supportwould, paradoxically, let it recover most quickly. Yet he knew it washis plea for help, nothing more abstract, that moved Hovan. The Traitifinally embraced him. "You are in-clan, ruhar. Never doubt that. Butmay I ask why you want me to go?"
His cheek pressed against gray skin, smelling its tension-sharp odor,Tarlac said, "Yes. Partly because I need you, partly because you'llhav
e to translate for the Supreme and First Speaker--Lord Carle gaveyou an advanced course in English, so your grammar wouldn't cause anymisunderstandings--and partly because I plan to recommend that theEmpire integrate your Fleet into the Navy and Marines. If you'rewilling, I'd like to start that by commissioning you myself, before Ileave this body for good."
Hovan, absently stroking Steve's hair, looked at his Ka'ruchaya and theclan's Speaker. Yarra nodded approval; Daria, smiling, made a gestureof negation as if to say, "I am not needed to Speak here."
That was true enough, Hovan thought. Steve--Lord Esteban, to give himhis proper title--was speaking for himself. "I am willing. Steve,ruhar, you do me great honor."
"No greater than you and Ch'kara did me," Tarlac said, realizing howsolemn they all were. He'd prefer a lighter mood. "But hey, this isstarting to sound like a mutual admiration society. Would anyone elselike some chovas?"
The four adjourned to a small dining hall, to find themselvesanticipated. Four mugs of the steaming beverage waited for them, andthey drank silently.
For the rest of the day, Tarlac was given the unobtrusive butunmistakable support that his n'ruhar needed to give--and it helpedthem moderate awe to the acceptance, casual but touched with deeprespect, they held for the other Lords. By evening, their emotionswere subsiding to a certain permanent pride that Ch'kara had given aLord to the Circle. It helped Tarlac, as well. He'd grown pleasantlyaccustomed to the clan's support and closeness--its love--and he'dregretted the loss of it that seemed inevitable. He came to realize,however, that as long as Ch'kara existed he would have its love, givinghim a peace he could never have imagined before attaining his newmaturity.
That night, while his body was surrounded by sleeping n'ruhar, Tarlactook advantage of his new powers to explore. Having the freedom of thegalaxy was exhilarating, far better than the suit-enclosed EVA he'denjoyed before. No helmet blocked his view, and if he wanted to, hecould perceive the entirety of what surrounded him. He reveled in it,swooping from system to system, observing for himself what Kranath andthe others had told him.
He understood the cloudcats and their psionic survival aids perfectlynow; he repaired a minor fault in one, though it wasn't yet necessary,for the sheer pleasure of using his new skills.
He looked in on a young Irschchan student, graceful as her felineforebears, with no idea yet of the service she would soon do the Empireand her homeworld alike; he wished her well.
He checked the condition of his friend, James Medart; if Kranath hadn'tassured him Jim would live, Tarlac would have been sorely tempted tointervene. Knowing the older Ranger was in critical condition hadn'tprepared him for the sight of Jim hooked up to a roomful of life-supportmachinery, not in even a low-grav bed but submerged in a tankof rapid-heal solution. That was further evidence of how seriouslyhe'd been wounded; Tarlac had only heard of the technique a couple ofmonths before leaving Terra, as an experimental treatment for massiveinjuries.
It wasn't quite first-tenth at the clanhome, about 0730 Palace StandardTime, when Tarlac stopped amusing himself and went back to work. Hisnew power made it simple for him to use his ID code alone to access theImperial priority band, something he'd done before only with highlysophisticated equipment, and project an image of himself in open-shirteduniform to the Palace, to the Emperor's private comset.
He made the comscreen's viewpoint his own, to avoid mistakes, so whenthe screen activated he found himself looking at the Emperor's head,bent over the inevitable stack of printout paper, from the familiar lowright three-quarter view. "Just a minute, please," Davis said tiredly,without looking up.
"Of course, sir." Tarlac sensed the Emperor was too fatigued, toodistracted, to recognize his voice right away. His Majesty had changedin the three months since Tarlac had left Terra; his short-clipped hairwas almost totally white, his shoulders were less erect, and his shirtmore rumpled than he had tolerated then.
When the Emperor did look over at the screen, Tarlac was shocked to seethe strain etched into his face. Davis looked ten years older, andutterly worn out. Then fatigue gave way to a startled grin. "Steve!You did it! Will you be back soon?"
"Yes, Your Majesty, to both. I'm on the Traiti Homeworld, and I'll beleaving, aboard one of their cruisers, in about five hours. Palace ETAis noon tomorrow, your time." He raised a hand to forestall theEmeror's beginning objection. "I know that's impossibly fast byImperial technology, sir, but we'll be getting a one-time-only boostfrom a sort of super-computer the Others left here."
"The Others." Davis frowned, then shrugged. "I won't look a gifthorse in the mouth. Captain Willis reported what Fleet-Captain Arjentold you. Steve, can you end this damn war?"
"I can't, sir, no. What I can do is arrange things so you and theTraiti rulers, their Supreme and First Speaker, can try to end it."
"Good enough. After those people we massacred on Khemsun, I'll takeanything I can get." Davis looked bitter, angry. "Maybe you'd bettergive me the whole story; I can ask questions later. I don't want youmissing your ship."
Tarlac grinned. "They'd wait for me, sir, but that is a good idea.And if you wouldn't mind taping it, I think it should be made public."
"You're the Ranger on-scene; recommendation accepted." Davis touched acontrol on his comset. "All right, Ranger Tarlac. This is for therecord."
"Very well, Your Majesty. I assume the record already holds theEmpress Lindner's log tapes."
"That is correct. Go on."
"Yes, sir." Tarlac began with his first meeting with Hovan and went onto the adoption, a description of Homeworld and the Traiti civilianswhich included their gender ratio, his greeting at the Ch'karaclanhome, his special Language lesson--"The Traiti attribute it to theCircle of Lords, their gods; whether to believe it was them or theOthers' computer, which this report will describe later, will have tobe an individual decision."
Then, in an outline that would be suitable for public release, he toldof his seduction by Daria and her subsequent pregnancy.
Davis stopped the recording. "Are you sure you want that on record,Steve? If you pass the psych retests--" He broke off at the look onTarlac's face. "You're that sure you'd fail, then."
"No doubt about it, sir. I shouldn't have passed them the first time,any more than Shining Arrow should have. Sharing young is an importantpart of the Ordeal because their best have to be fertile. Daria andour daughter are important to me, Ch'kara is important to me--personally. This is my last mission . . . but I can't regret eventhat, if it brings peace and keeps them alive."
The Emperor sighed heavily. "Another one down. You say you wereallowed news intercepts--did they mention that Jim's been criticallywounded?"
"Yes, sir, the day before my Scarring. Shall I continue?"
"Go ahead." Davis touched "Record" again, and nodded.
Tarlac described his schooling and wilderness experience with noparticular emphasis, and then had the screen show Kranath's Vision, ashe and Godhome remembered it, translating the Language. He waited,ready to give the Emperor the same emotional support he'd given Ch'karaif it were needed.
It wasn't, quite, though Davis was shaken enough to stop recordingagain when it ended. "Good God, Steve! You know what'll happen whenthe newsies get their hands on that!"
"Yes, sir, and there's worse to come. At our first meeting, the FirstSpeaker promised me a tape of the initial contact. I gave youKranath's Vision first, for background. Now here's the contact tape."
He showed it, feeling Davis' helpless rage, so like his own when he'dseen it, as it played and was recorded. The Emperor hit the "Stop"button with his clenched fist when it was over, cursing in a languageTarlac had never heard but which sounded remarkably well suited forthat purpose. Davis spun the tape back and watched the first contactagain. When it ended the second time, he looked haunted. "All right,Steve. Finish your report."
Tarlac did so, conscious that after the contact tape, the story he wastelling sounded a bit anticlimactic. "I had to tell
them about ourcommon heritage, of course," he finished, "and to be believed, I had tofinish the Ordeal. So here I am, with Honor scars. And that's it,sir."
Davis touched his controls again, and Tarlac was suddenly conscious ofhis intense scrutiny, his reputation for almost telepathic discernment."Is it, Steve?" he asked quietly.
"He is close to the truth," Kranath's thought came. "Will you deny itto him?"
"No," Tarlac replied. "I told him it was up to the individual, and ifhe figures it out, okay. Working it like this, not many should, eventhough the Traiti won't keep it any secret."
"Will you then confirm it for him?"
"He won't need it."
The Emperor nodded slowly. "You never could play poker, Steve. You'vebeen holding out on me, and just now you were thinking of . . .something. And maybe you've made a couple of mistakes. Yourtransmission--or should I say illusion?--doesn't have a background.That might have a lot of causes, but could Kranath's Vision have been areenactment? There were no mindprobes around five thousand years agoto record it." He glanced again at the comscreen control panel, itsmaster switch turned off. "You, or part of you, is right here, LordEsteban Tarlac--isn't it?"
"Yes, sir," Tarlac admitted, unable to repress a smile and a ruefulheadshake. "A moment ago Lord Kranath told me you were close to thetruth and asked me what I intended to do about it. Absolutely nothing,except to ask you not to make it official. If I'm being so obvious,too many people may pick up on it anyway."
"It wasn't obvious, except to someone who knows you well. I don'tthink anyone but your . . . former . . . colleagues will catch it. AndI won't make it official; you know the Empire doesn't promote anyreligion. But--will you give the Empire the same support your newcolleagues give the Traiti?"
Tarlac laughed, relieved that the Emperor could see and grasp thisopportunity as readily as ever, in spite of the circumstances. "YourMajesty, if this succeeds, all of us will be working for the interestsof both races combined."
A driving surge of hope erased some of the Emperor's fatigue. "What doyou want me to do?"
The next morning, as promised, the Supreme and First Speaker met Tarlacand Hovan at the Hermnaen's loading ramp. Fleet-Captain Arjen, inuniform again and obviously proud of this honor, was waiting to greetthem. He bowed respectfully to the human in Ranger green. "LordEsteban."
Tarlac touched his shoulder, to emphasize the fact that he was stillusing a physical body. "Not necessary for now, Fleet-Captain. Let'skeep things looking as normal as possible."
Arjen straightened. "Yes, Lord."
Tarlac turned to the two rulers. "During the night I contacted theEmperor and asked him to order a cease-fire; it should be taking effectby now. Would you give the same order?"
"Of course, Lord," the Supreme replied. "But how can it reach all ourships in time?"
"The same way I contacted them yesterday," Tarlac told him. "Just talkat me as if you were giving the order over a transmitter."
Taking him at his word, the two rulers gave the orders and Tarlacrelayed their images and words to the Traiti ships' communicationsequipment, as he had activated the Palace's comm channels the nightbefore. There were no objections from the Fleet, thoughacknowledgments ranged from almost enthusiastic to openly skeptical.Tarlac passed them all along, thinking that it didn't matter. Withracial survival at stake, the Lords would be monitoring both the humanand the Traiti ships. There would be no accidental--orintentional--infractions of the cease-fire.
Once they boarded the Hermnaen, Tarlac accompanied Arjen to the controlcentral and took a place standing behind Arjen and Ship-Captain Exvani.Liftoff was routine until the ship reached the safe transition distanceof ten diameters out. Then Tarlac spoke up. "Master Pilot?"
"Yes, Lord?"
"Program out-transition for Terra's position exactly one day from now,please."
The Master Pilot, unlike the Emperor, showed no surprise at the speedthat order implied, and moments later there was the twisting sensationof hyperspace entry. The sensation continued for almost a minuterather than brief seconds, however, and the viewscreens, when theycleared, showed swirls of shifting color instead of the featurelessgray of hyperspace.
There were exclamations of surprise and awe. Nobody asked questions,but Tarlac could feel their intense curiosity, and decided it would dono harm to satisfy it. "This dimension is to hyperspace as that is tonormspace; it allows speeds roughly two hundred times as fast ashyperflight."
"Leyar's Dimension?" Arjen asked.
"Yes. He has the beginnings of the theory worked out, but it'll beawhile yet before it'll be of any practical use." Tarlac did not saythat it would be a long while. Unlike Nannstein's theory of gravitics,which had led directly to hyperdrive, ultraspace theory held no cluesto its practical applications; it would be several centuries beforethose were worked out. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to brief theFirst Speaker and Supreme."
"Of course, Lord. They and Team-Leader Hovan are in Ship-CaptainExvani's quarters, and mine have been prepared for you."
And you don't regret the loss of privacy a bit, Tarlac thought, amused."Thanks, Fleet-Captain. I'll be back here for out-transition; evenwith the cease-fire, I don't think the defense satellites would bewilling to let you by without my authorization."
"As they should not," Arjen said approvingly. "Individually, Lord,human fighters leave much to be desired--but in groups they equal us,and they are far more numerous."
"That's why those who went before moved you instead of us, remember?"Tarlac was delighted to be able to speak so openly, even jokingly, offacts the Traiti race now accepted.
"Yes, Lord." Arjen couldn't help smiling. There was something aboutthis Lord who had been a Ranger, something that put him at ease ratherthan keeping him at the distance the other Lords inspired. Perhaps itwas the man's youth, or his small size, but whatever it was, Arjenliked Lord Esteban.
Tarlac sensed that and smiled as he left the control central. If theTraiti saw Kranath as a father figure, and the other ten Lords asn'ruchaya, sharing that parenthood with the Supreme Lord, but sawTarlac as the "youngling" of the Circle, that was fine with him. He'dhad all the isolation and deference his Imperial rank demanded forfifteen years, and he thought he'd prefer to spend the next fewmillennia with the easy warmth he sensed from Arjen, from Ch'kara--andin fact from all the Traiti.
When the Hermnaen out-transitioned, it was a cautious hundred and fiftythousand kilometers from Terra, and Tarlac was satisfied that he'dbriefed the three who would accompany him to the Palace as well as hecould without actually telling them what to do.
He was in the control central again, at the communications console.Activating the screen, he tuned to the Imperial guard channel. "FleetHeadquarters, this is Ranger Tarlac."
The reply was prompt. "This is Headquarters, Ranger. You are clearedto land at the Palace field at your convenience. All other traffic hasbeen diverted, since your pilot can't be familiar with our landingconventions. The landing beacon is on, and please report passing DefsatFive. Do you copy?"
"Roger, I copy, and thank you. Tarlac out."
"Headquarters out."
Tarlac looked over at the Master Pilot. "It's all yours. Take usdown."
"Aye, Lord."
Watching critically, Tarlac had to admit there was very littledifference in efficiency between the crews at the Hermnaen's controlcentral and on the Empress Lindner's bridge. If the Hermnaen's seemedto have a bit of an edge at present, it was understandable; theLindner's would have made as good a showing, taking a Traiti VIP toHomeworld.
They passed Defsat Five half a dozen kilometers out, Tarlac making thenecessary call to confirm their landing clearance. Then the pilot tookthem down, slowly and precisely, following the beacon.
Tarlac took nostalgic pleasure in what he knew would be his lastship-descent. This view had always been a favorite of his: the clear,windless sight of the sun reflecting off Antarctic snowfields. A darkspeck appeared at the f
oot of the Sentinel Mountains, the modifieddefense screen that protected the Imperial Palace and a circle fiftykilometers around it from the harsh environment. The speck grew,beginning to show detail. The Palace itself was a good four kilometerssquare, the largest single building ever constructed by humans,combining elements from all of Terra's cultures in a feat ofengineering made possible by Nannstein's genius. Tarlac thought it wasmagnificent, and it was virtually a self-contained city. Gardens andparkland surrounded it for ten kilometers, with administrative andresidential areas beyond that, also carefully landscaped.
Once those details became visible, it was only moments until theHermnaen set down on the Palace's landing field, which was big enoughto serve a system capital and as well fortified as a planetary defensebase. Even the Emperor's private landing pad near the Palace wallcould be covered by a heavy disruptor cannon. The Hermnaen, here, wasas vulnerable as the Lindner had been when she was englobed by Arjen'sfleet.
As he had arranged, Tarlac met the other three at the main entry ramp.The coming encounters wouldn't be easy for them; they simply had noexperience in coping with other cultures. He could sense theirapprehension, their carefully-fostered self-confidence, as the hatchcycled open and the ramp extended. "Take it easy," he said softly."You'll do fine."
The Supreme smiled at him. "We will do our best, Lord."
"I know." Tarlac, accustomed to the imposingly massive beings, stillfound them impressive. To anyone else on Terra, the effect would beeven greater. And the Traiti were dressed for the occasion. Hovan wasin uniform, armed with dagger, shortsword, and gun, everything but hisblast-rifle; the First Speaker wore the bright green robe of heroffice; and the Supreme, in honor of the new Lord, wore Ch'kara-styleblue trousers and silvery open shirt, with, naturally, his dagger.They were impressive, Tarlac thought.
The scene outside the ship was no more than he'd expected. There was ahuge crowd, mostly news reporters with everything from tiny stillcameras to holo gear which was barely portable. They were being heldback by Palace Guards, Imperial Marines in traditional dress blues.Only the small honor guard Tarlac had recommended came forward to meetthe four of them, ten Marines and a Ranger whose long black hair washeld out of his face by a headband the same green as his uniform anddress cloak.
The two Rangers exchanged salutes before Tarlac accepted his own cloakfrom the Marine carrying it, swung it over his shoulders, and fastenedthe chain. It was a long time since he'd worn the heavy garment withits silver trim and embroidered Imperial Seal, and he took a moment toarrange it so it would hold his shirt open instead of closed over hisscars.
Once he was satisfied, he made the introductions. "Crown Prince RickForrest, may I present the Traiti Supreme and First Speaker, and mysponsor, Team-Leader Hovan."
The three bowed; Forrest saluted again. "Welcome to Terra. I've beentold that only Team-Leader Hovan speaks much English, but that you canall understand some."
"That is correct," Hovan said.
"Good enough. Now if you'll come with me, His Majesty is waiting toreceive you."
"We you thank," the First Speaker said, using, Tarlac knew, most of herlimited English.
Then, each flanked by two of the Marines, they moved toward thePalace's immense main entrance. As they neared it, the newsies crowdedcloser and began clamoring for information, shouting questions,brandishing cameras and microphones. The Rangers, long accustomed tonetwork competition, paid little attention to the aggressive mob scene;this was a big story, one of the biggest, and the newsies' behavior wasexpectable. They didn't mean any harm, but Tarlac sensed a growingconcern from the two Traiti males for the First Speaker's safety.
Tarlac kept walking, outwardly impassive, as he sent them reassurance."I know the newsies are a bit overwhelming, but there's no danger.They're just doing their jobs, sending this story all over the Empire.Traiti monitoring stations will pass it on to your worlds, too." Thathelped; the three Traiti relaxed a little.
Arjen, on the Hermnaen, was too busy to relax. There were vehiclesapproaching, white ones marked with the scarlet cross and crescent thatdistinguished human medical equipment. He called sickbay and reachedDr. Jason. "Vehicles are for your people coming, Doctor. Yourpatients will first off-loaded be, if they ready are."
"They're ready," a tired-looking Jason said. "Can you send the medicshere--and keep the newsies out?"
"Of course," Arjen replied. "The Marines will that insure, LordEsteban says, and the patients will be to the Palace medical unittaken."
"The Palace medcenter?" Jason sighed, looking less tired. "That's arelief; it's probably the best hospital in the Empire. Did he sayanything about the rest of us?"
"You will be to regional facilities for checks taken, Bethesda and oneI find hard to say."
"Akademgorod?" Dr. Jason asked, his expression suddenly eager.
"Yes. Your families are being there taken, and after you fully checkedare, you will be with them reunited." Arjen smiled himself at thatthought. "I hope you all of yours well find."
"Thanks. But if you'll excuse me, I've got to get back to work."
"As do I." Arjen cut the circuit.
In the Palace, the Throne Room doors began to swing open and a fanfaresounded. "Okay, here we go," Tarlac said. "Remember, don't kneel whenyou're presented, even if some of the courtiers do. You're not part ofthe nobility."
"We will remember," the First Speaker said.
Tarlac didn't have time to say any more, as the fanfare was replaced bythe first notes of Williams' Imperial Anthem, and they had to maketheir entrance.
It was a long, slow, ceremonious walk from the door to the Throne,since this was a full-scale Grand Audience. The courtiers, nobles andtheir guests--those who had managed to make it to the Palace on suchshort notice--all had a chance to study the open-shirted, scarredRanger and the massive gray-skinned beings with him. They knew Traitifrom pictures, but none of these had seen them in the flesh.
And more than their presence here drew comment. Two of the aliens werearmed, in the Imperial Presence! Normally only Rangers and Life Nobleshad that privilege, and seeing enemies so honored brought angrymurmurs, even after the tapes all present had seen of Tarlac's accountof the Ordeal, of Kranath's Vision.
Tarlac heard the murmurs and smiled. If they thought this was bad,just wait! His plans were going smoothly; if the emotional currents hesensed continued, it was likely that soon these courtiers would be gladfor the Traiti's arms.
Hovan was beginning to feel uneasy as he followed Steve down the redcarpet toward the Throne, and he wasn't quite able to place the reason.It wasn't the humans' anger; Steve had warned them to expect that atfirst. And it wasn't the strangeness of being on Terra, or even in thePalace's Throne Room. This, despite its size and splendor, bore astrong similarity to a gathering hall, even though its dais supportedthe Throne instead of an altar. This place felt out-clan, nothing moresinister. His unease was due to something else, something hiscombat-honed senses insisted was like walking into an ambush. He sighedinwardly. If there was going to be trouble, why hadn't Steve saidanything?
But Steve was a Lord now, he reminded himself, and it was axiomaticthat Lords did things their own ways for their own reasons. All hecould do was remain alert, prepared to take any action that might seemnecessary.
As they neared the Throne, Hovan found himself more impressed than he'dthought he would be. Twin columns of swirling silver flanked EmperorCharles Davis where he sat in the rather plain, high-backed woodenchair that was the Throne, on its meter-high marble dais. He woregreen-and-silver robes and a silvery crown ornamented with wingedstars; the scepter he held matched it. The regalia could not disguisethe strain lines engraved in his face, but he was smiling slightly, andso was Crown Prince Forrest, from his place behind the Emperor's leftside.
Davis gave the group a sober examination before he spoke. "RangerTarlac. We are pleased at your return, and at your successfulcompletion of the Traiti Ordeal of Honor. According to C
aptain Willis,that means you are bringing Us the peace We wish."
"I bring a good chance for peace, Your Majesty, in the persons of theTraiti rulers and Team-Leader Hovan, who gave me the support andtraining I needed to survive the Ordeal." Tarlac repressed a smile atthat misleading technicality. He'd survived, yes--for less than aminute.
"We welcome them to the Empire. You have learned their Language; willyou act as translator for Us?"
"Of course, sir."
"Good. As you asked Us to, We have released the tapes you showed Usyesterday, so their contents are common knowledge; you need not go intothose facts again."
"Thank you, sir." Tarlac turned to the Supreme and First Speaker, andtranslated the exchange.
"Now," Davis said, his tone even more serious, "We understand that itis a cultural problem which has brought about this civil war betweenthe Empire and some of Our separated citizens."
"Yes, Your Majesty. Their culture and its imperatives are quitedifferent from ours--but I'm proud to have been adopted by Clan Ch'karaand to call Hovan my brother."
Davis nodded, and focused his attention on the two rulers. "We hope toend this fratricidal conflict, which has recently, for the first time,cost you women and children We understand you can ill afford to lose.Have you any suggestions as to how We can do that?"
Imperial usage, Hovan thought as he watched, had sounded foolish whenSteve described it aboard ship, but coming from the Emperor now, itsounded both solemn and appropriate.
It was the Supreme, since this was primarily a secular matter, whoanswered through Tarlac. "The Ranger has told us that our Terranorigin entitles us to Imperial citizenship, and that any citizen hasthe right to petition the Throne."
Davis nodded. "It is a citizen's basic right, one which has preventedmuch injustice. We invite you to present yours."
The Supreme indicated the First Speaker. "Then, Your Majesty, wepetition life for our people. Ranger Tarlac has told you that wecannot surrender; as your troops advance, we will all die as surely asthose of Clan L'sor died. It is death with honor to die in defense ofthe clan, but it is death for all of our race, and I do not think YourMajesty wants that any more than we want it."
"We do not," Davis said firmly, "and there is a way to prevent it.Ranger Tarlac has told you of the Imperial policy regarding governmentswhich already exist on inhabited planets, has he not?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. The Irschchan system is still ruled by their WhiteOrder, and the cloudcats of Ondrian have kept their own ways. Those,however, are local governments. Our civilization, like yours, isinterstellar in scope."
"We consider that the principle is the same for a Sector as for aplanet or a system. Do you disagree?"
"We do not, Your Majesty. We agree fully."
"Then hear Our Edict." Davis stood, raising the scepter. "We rulethat the war came about because of a mutual misunderstanding betweentwo groups of Imperial citizens, one of which was unaware of thatstatus, and that no blame may be attached to either group.
"Further, we invite the Supreme and First Speaker to swear fealty tothe Empire, that the Traiti may take their rightful place in Our Realm.In exchange, We offer confirmation of their status as rulers of the newTraiti Sector, subject only to the restrictions that apply to allSector Dukes."
It was the offer Lord Esteban had said would probably be made, and theTraiti had no hesitation, after his earlier briefing, about acceptingit. They knelt and swore the oaths of fealty that made them Imperialnobles.
"We accept your fealty," the Emperor said, "and in return pledge Oursupport." He touched both rulers on the shoulders with his scepter."Rise, my Lord Dukes."
They did, smiling when Tarlac had to use the Language term for his ownstatus as he translated. Hovan smiled too, feeling a sense offulfillment. Steve had done it! This was what he'd offered his life toachieve, expecting only a death he'd thought would be final. He hadbrought peace, peace the Traiti could accept with full honor--peacethat meant life for Ch'kara, for Sandre and the twins, for Daria andthe youngling she shared with Steve. Hovan knew there would be detailsto work out, still--details that might take years--but Steve had madethat working out possible.
Then Tarlac turned to the Emperor. "Sir, I'd like to administer anoath now, with your permission. Team-Leader Hovan is a commando, anexperienced officer who's come up through the ranks as all of theirofficers have, and in my opinion he would be an asset to the Empire.I've offered him a commission in the Marines."
"Permission granted," Davis said with a rare smile. "We would be mostpleased to have one with the qualifications you told Us about yesterdayin Our armed forces."
"Thank you, sir." Tarlac turned to Hovan and said quietly, "Let's dothis right. You face the crowd."
Hovan did so, glancing over the brightly-dressed courtiers. His uneasewas stronger now, though no better defined, and he was still tense,alert for action. Something was definitely wrong here, something inthe subtle readiness of a small group nearby--
Steve's voice broke into his thoughts. "Raise your right hand andrepeat after me: 'I, Hovan of Clan Ch'kara, do solemnly swear . . ."
Hovan did as Steve told him. "I, Hovan of Clan Ch'kara, do solemnlyswear . . . to protect and defend the Terran Empire . . . from allenemies, foreign and domestic . . . and to bear true faith andallegiance to the same. This I pledge before the Lords, by my ownhonor and Ch'kara's."
Tarlac lowered his hand and extended it. "Congratulations, FirstLieutenant Hovan, and welcome to Imperial Service."
Hovan was reaching to take Steve's hand when his misgivings becamereality. He spotted movement, a flash of light on gunmetal, andeverything happened at once. Hovan was already reacting as he heardthe bark of a slugthrower and saw the spurt of flame. His dagger flewfor its target, a human screamed--
--and Steve was spun around and hurled to the floor by a heavy slug inthe center of his back. Anticipation and combat-sharpened reflexes letHovan get halfway to the assassin before the Palace Guards could act.By the time they'd surrounded the group, a snarling Hovan had the manwho'd used the gun in custody, one claw-extended hand clamped on hisneck and shoulder while he rammed the muzzle of his blaster against thebase of the man's skull.
The human was shivering, fearful yet defiant. "Get your hands off me,you damn Shark! And get your knife out of my shoulder!"
"You'll be patched up," the Guard Major in charge said grimly. "Longenough to take a mindprobe, anyway." He reached under his blouse for apair of handcuffs, put them on the prisoner, and turned to his squad."Take this one to the medical unit, the rest straight to Security."
Hovan released the assassin with a shove. "What will be done with him?And why would he shoot Ranger Tarlac?"
"Did you see the button he was wearing?" the Major asked. At Hovan'snod, he went on. "He's a Humanity Firster. They're a bunch offanatics and troublemakers, though we never thought anyone, even one ofthem, would be stupid enough to do something like this. He'll bemindprobed to learn his accomplices--and how he managed to smuggle evenan old-style gun into the Palace. What he did's on record, on Securitymonitor tapes and probably the newscasters' gear as well. He'll beshot."
The Major paused, then smiled. "I never thought I'd say this to aTraiti, Lieutenant Hovan, but--well done. I could wish you were in mycommand."
"I thank you, Major. But for now I am the only one of Ch'kara, here,and I must hold my ruhar's death-watch." He remembered the wordingSteve had said was correct for requests. "By your leave, sir?"
"All right, Lieutenant, go to him."
Hovan knelt beside the inert form, his only emotion curiosity. Hismourning was done; Steve had died and joined the Lords days ago, andHovan had known he couldn't remain limited to his body--but why chooseto leave it this way, with the indignity of being attacked from behind?
Guards had surrounded Emperor Davis at the first sign of trouble, andhe motioned them back so he could look down at the scene: Hovankneeling over Tarlac's bloody form as medics mov
ed in, the Supremeshielding the First Speaker with his body, the courtiers milling aroundin confusion. Yes, events were working out as Tarlac had predicted.
He seated himself again and called, "Cor'naya Hovan."
Hovan looked up. "Yes, Your Majesty?"
"Come here, please."
Hovan approached the Emperor and bowed. "Sire?"
Speaking too quietly for the newsies' mikes to pick up his words, Davissaid, "Steve asked me to give you a message after he left. I'll haveyou brought to my working office when this Audience is over, and giveit to you there." He raised his voice to its previous level."Cor'naya Hovan, since Ranger Tarlac's mother is not present, you arehis closest available kin. We must ask if you wish to make funeralarrangements yourself, or if you prefer Us to make them."
"The Lords have already accepted him, Sire. He should have the humanceremony, whatever his rank deserves, and I do not know that."
"Very well, We will see to it. If you wish to accompany him, themedics are ready to take him to the morgue. And, Lieutenant--you haveOur thanks for the way you captured that assassin. Please inform theSupreme and First Speaker that they will be taken to guest apartmentsuntil you are free to translate for Us."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
It was almost a tenthday later--two hours, Hovan reminded himself, inhuman terms--when a young Marine in Palace Guard dress blues enteredthe morgue where Hovan was watching technicians prepare Steve's body.Their impersonality was unpleasant to him, and it was a relief to turnhis attention to the NCO. Hoping he was reading the woman's insigniacorrectly, Hovan said, "Yes, Sergeant?"
"The Emperor would like to see you, sir. I'm to escort you to hisoffice."
Hovan nodded, careful not to smile at the woman's expression. It wouldonly make her obvious apprehension worse. But, once they were out ofthe morgue and seated in one of the small null-grav cars that served asinterior transport, he did say, "I will not bite you, you know."
"I . . ." The Marine hesitated. "No, sir. My mind knows you won't,but my stomach's a lot less certain. And, sir--I've never even heardof a junior officer being granted a private audience!"
That was all until the shuttlecar pulled up before a door that wasflanked by a pair of Palace Guards. As Hovan climbed out, the youngMarine said, "Lieutenant Hovan, to see His Majesty." There was an airof tension from the Guards as Hovan approached the door, but neither ofthem said anything; one simply opened the door for him and closed itwhen he was inside.
Davis was waiting, now in a Ranger's plain forest green, seated at afunctional steel desk. He spoke before Hovan could bow. "Noformalities at this meeting, Hovan, though it probably won't happenagain. I think that armchair can handle your mass; have a seat."
Hovan sat, carefully as the chair creaked, but it held. "You saidSteve left a message for me, Your Majesty."
Davis leaned forward. "Yes. He told me quite a bit yesterday, whileyou were still on Homeworld. For one thing, he said that you were asimportant in bringing this peace about as he was, that if it hadn'tbeen for your help, he'd never have made it through the Ordeal."
Hovan shook his head. "That is too much credit, Sire. I did no morethan any sponsor should."
"That may be true, and I'll ask you to hold to that in public, but weboth know Steve's right, too. You did a sponsor's duty, yes--for analien, an enemy, and with a degree of sympathy no one could expect.You acted exactly like what he called you, his brother."
"I was, yes. And I am glad that he saw the peace he wanted so. Butthat he should die as he did . . ."
"I know what he's become," Davis said. "I guessed, and he confirmedit. He's not dead, as either of us understand death. And theassassination today was part of his plan. So was your capture of thatFirster. He couldn't tell you in advance, since he wanted yourreactions to be spontaneous, and he asked me to say he regrets notbeing able to tell you, and hopes you understand."
"I am not surprised," Hovan said, "though I do not truly understand. Iwould not have disgraced him."
"He didn't think you would, Hovan. But you're no actor, you don't hidewhat you feel. It was obvious to everyone that you didn't know whatwas going to happen, and that you were angry at the Firster." Davisleaned back, looking satisfied. "You knew Steve well enough to knowhow he hated waste."
"Yes, Sire."
"Well, this time he outdid himself. Humanity Firsters have beentrouble for years, and they've been getting more active lately, soSteve decided to let them incriminate themselves, by stopping thesecurity scanners for long enough to let that one through with hisweapon. He said his future-sense was still unreliable, but hepredicted what would happen today, in outline. And so far the eventshave had the effects he intended.
"After you left, the Throne Room turned into chaos. Shooting a Rangerin the back, especially here in the Palace, lost the Firsters anypopular support they had. Your immediate defense of the Empire, andthe way you took that man without killing him--people didn't expectthat from a Traiti--have started gaining sympathy for you." Davisshook his head. "There've been some results already. The newsies aredemanding interviews with any Traiti they can get hold of, especiallyyou, the First Speaker, and the Supreme--in that order. I can have youprotected from them, if you want."
"Steve did not like reporters," Hovan said, "and from what I have seen,I do not either. But that must be part of his plan, so I will meetwith them."
"Good, because you're right. It is part of what he hoped for. Publicrelations can make people realize you're part of the Empire now, notenemies. The newsies are good for some things, no matter howaggravating they are at times."
"Steve brought peace, with all honor; that is the important thing. Hehas truly earned our title for him."
"He has a title beyond 'Lord'?"
"We call him 'Peacelord.'"
"Peacelord." Davis nodded. "A good epitaph for anyone. 'EstebanTarlac, Ranger and Peacelord.'"
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends