Opening Moves (13 page)

“
Yes, of course it is.”

“
I don't think so, senior technician. In fact, I think you'll just go back to the way you were once I let you out.”

“
No,! No, I won't, I swear it!” he banged on the glass. “Damn it, just get me out!”

“
No,” Corr'tane slowly shook his head. “No, you are scum, you are nothing!” he spat. “I've read your reports, seen your work. All you do is take advantage of others, and you're trying to do the same to me!” all his rage and frustration began to well up, the frustration at not only his treatment, but of everything: of the academy council belittling them, at the sun preparing to snuff out the world, at the forces who killed their parents, at the whole damn universe! It opened like floodgates of pain and anger and he slammed his hand on the control console, not activating the door mechanism but the labs emergency purge function. Through fierce tears he watched the lab being doused in intense radiation that flash burned up to thousands of degrees. Nothing inside could have survived and in his fury he just didn't care. For those moments he was not in control. He gave himself totally to emotion, and when he came around again he realized the terrible consequences of doing so. He had taken a life.

The inquiry was a whitewash, of course. Corr'tane was too valuable to go to prison for murder. Officially, he had been concussed by a fall and accidently pressed the wrong button. Really, a tragic accident for which no blame could be assigned. It seemed he had friends in very high places. But in the facility, the rumors were quietly circling. Whispers said he had killed a man for not obeying his orders, and that despite his young age he was a stone cold killer.

Corr'tane did nothing to dispel the rumors. They seemed to help them meet and exceed their targets. In time he even began to enjoy the fear he caused in others. But deep down he was badly shaken. A life had been taken because he lost control. He resolved never again to give in to emotion, never to act on impulse but instead to treat life like science, with clinical observations and distance.

From that moment on he didn't listen anymore to his heart, until he barely even remembered it was there. The warmth of compassion was gone forever and he didn't care. His mind told him it was a weakness, that pity and sorrow were wasted emotions, and that the mind alone could more than replace the heart as his sole measure of conscience. It was a way to be stronger, to never be a victim, to never be weak again. From then on he had done whatever had been necessary and felt neither guilt nor regret. The youthful exuberance he had once experienced during his research with every little breakthrough was gone. A new, colder, more efficient Corr'tane had been born.

* * * * * * *

Returning his wandering thoughts to the present he frowned. For long years Kalla'shan had always been his protector. He would neither allow her nor the Ashani race fail. His strategy was sound. Delaying their grand offensive, postponing the war was necessary. If he could pounce when the Rasenni were weak, perhaps even set them and the Ukhuris on a collision course... Yes, that would lead the great powers to be too busy to interfere in the coming onslaught. Only the fractured Pact of Ten Suns would oppose them then.

A single thought, a warning rather came to his mind, telling her not to forget those humans. He considered it for a moment, then shrugged it off. The humans were no concern of his. Considering them was academic. They sat on the opposite side of Orion, almost two thousand light-years away.

He turned to his bed and prepared for sleep. The following day would be busy. Corr'tane had to immerse himself in his research and monitor the progress of his latest unwitting test subjects. The future required it, and his mind demanded it. He slipped into sleep with a smile, while on the planet below the death he had brought began its murderous work.

“
One man's funeral is another man's feast. And I shall feast greatly today.”

– Great Khan Tarma Mirza (born Bega Amjut Serak) at the Fall of Tehran, 2176 C.E.

C H A P T E R  4

Chicago, Capital of the North American Union

One Year Later, May, 2797 C.E.

President Jennifer Solwyn marched into her office, entering through the rich dark wood doors and acknowledging each of the half dozen generals, secretaries and advisers who rose from their comfortable leather chairs as she entered. Briskly she crossed the distance to the dark oak table and settled down, finding a large collection of holographic images solidifying in front of her.

She was a tall and attractive woman, her age apparently frozen in her early forties, with long, flowing blond hair and fair skin.

“Gentlemen, I had to cut one of the increasingly sparse meals with my family short to be here. So this better be important.” Solwyn's voice carried with it a hint of a Francophone accent, courtesy of a father with an unbroken Quebecois lineage reaching back a thousand years. The President of the North American Union gave the assembled officials a hard stare that belied her casual tone and demeanor. As the elected leader of more than two billion people she had little enough privacy already, trying to keep together a nation consisting of such diverse parts as the central American commonwealths, the former United States, the Canadian territories, Mars, and colonies and outposts in half a dozen star systems. She could rattle down the names of at least fifteen separatist movements from her memory. Those caused some of her hair to turn to gray. But the existence and machinations of the EMC and the PRA were of a much greater concern to her and her staff.

EMC, short for the Euromediterranean Confederacy controlled Africa's strategically important resources and owned colonial holdings in four star systems, two of them shared with Solwyn's own nation. That was a never ending source of concern and complications. The Pacific Rim Alliance, supported by the Republic of India, dominated by the island of Japan and a Chinese population spread across all of southeast Asia, occupying important positions of power, was a whole other ball game. They and the North American Union had come within a whisker of open war half a dozen times during the past one hundred years. Contentious lines of control, disputes about the rights to expand and exploit colony rights; these and so much more had the potential to one day blow up in their faces.

Jennifer Solwyn's one desire was that it wouldn't happen during her term. The only thing that ever brought the three dominant human power blocks in line was a direct outside threats.

“
Madame President, thirty-five minutes ago Emperor Hathisna of the Rasenni Empire died.” The speaker, Secretary of State Thomas Randolph, was a middle-aged African-American from what had once been known as the American 'Bible Belt'. Even when he communicated in Interlingo, the world's artificial language, his voice carried a thick southern accent. Still, Randolph was a powerful speaker in his own right and firm believer in Earth's – or more precisely, the NAU's - place at the forefront of affairs in 'their' part of the galactic neighborhood.

The president leaned back, her shoulder-long blonde hair falling over her business suit as she sunk into the comfortable chair. “I see. Well, it's not entirely unexpected though, is it?”

“That is indeed correct, Madame President.” This time it was William Campbell who spoke up. A native of the Eastern Seaboard Megaplex Campbell had risen through the murky world of intelligence to become one of the youngest persons to head the NAU's
Central Security Directorate
, commonly known as CSD. “Rasenni newsfeeds have been bemoaning his ill health for years now. In all honesty, most of us are surprised he held on as long as he did. Apparently he died peacefully in his sleep.”

“
Which means he was most likely poisoned,” Randolph huffed.

“
While that would not be outside the known
modus operandi
of Rasenni court politics, the CSD  has no evidence of that, and I would certainly advise all members of government to keep such ideas to themselves,” Campbell replied evenly.

“
Agreed, Director. We don't want to upset the Rasenni,” Solwyn said, tilting her head. “We should offer official our condolences.”

“
Still, it's probably the truth,” Randolph continued. “Their main course of advancing is through treachery and assassination.” The Secretary of State's true attitude towards the Rasenni was well known in government circles: he considered them decadent fools who had no sense of duty or morality. Unfortunately for him, the Rasenni were also probably the most powerful nation in known space, having colonized almost a hundred star systems and controlling hundreds more through proxies. While their star was waning they were a power not to be trifled with. And the Rasenni had a long memory when it came to insults, perceived or real.

“
Well, let's keep those views under our hats,” Solwyn said with a dry chuckle. “Assassination is no way to become leader of an interstellar empire, although I guess it cuts down on election campaigns!”

The assembled group laughed politely. All except Campbell's aide, a young woman named Susan Smith who kept respectfully quiet.

“Anyway, who do we think will succeed him?”

“
Our sources say the most likely candidate is a Lord Áedh.” Director Campbell activated his tablet and loaded a file into the local secure data cloud. “Page five of the dossier, Ma'am.”

The President accessed the file and found a picture and quick description of Áedh. The Rasenni were rather patriarchal, with the throne
always
going to a male noble. There had been only one Empress in their recorded history. To Solwyn, only one in a long list of female national leaders this always felt... odd? Yes, odd was a politely word for it.

Áedh already looked rather old, perhaps in his hundred-sixties or -seventies, with gray hair framing a face dominated by a broad-ridged nose overshadowing a pair of droopy eyes. For a few minutes silence reigned as the room read through the summary notes and waited for the President to finish.

“Looks fine to me,” she gave a non-committal shrug. “I think we can continue our cordial relationship with the Rasenni under his rule.”

“
The CSD agrees,” Campbell nodded. “He has the support of most of the major Rasenni principalities, although as always there are challengers. Still, we have no reason to expect it to turn into a civil war or any sort of infighting, for that matter. However, Madame President, the process of installing a new Emperor can be time consuming, especially with a challenger. It could be months before Áedh formally ascends to the Throne.”

“
During that time there will be a vacuum of power,” Randolph chimed in. “The Rasenni will turn inwards and their influence on galactic politics will cease until Áedh establishes himself. We're concerned this period of instability may encourage some of the more aggressive races to, ahm, quite literally broaden their horizons as it were.”

“
The Ukhuri?” Solwyn queried. She was well aware of the expansionist tendencies of that race and their somewhat understandable glee at making the Rasenni suffer. A suddenly weakened Rasenni Empire could give them enough opportunity to restart their expansion.

“
They are the most likely candidate, Ma'am,” Campbell noted. “But also the Ashani. You remember them from you inaugural briefing and the events of last year?”

“
I do remember them.” President Jennifer Solwyn had been sworn in just a month before the Dominion attacked and conquered Aeta, and she had feared an interstellar war would break out before she could even warm her seat as president. Thankfully it hadn't, and the fall of Toklamakun last year had been an equally limited affair. “You think they might attack the Rasenni?”

“
That's unlikely, Ma'am. But in light of their troubles they may feel more confident about attacking others if they don't have to worry about their borders,” Randolph pointed out. “We've seen how aggressive they are. The reports from Makani refugees are frankly too disturbing for widespread release.”

“
But I can't see them attacking the Ukhuri or the Pact. They are just one fairly small empire on the rimward edge of the Orion Arm, correct?”

“
That is correct, Madam President.” It was Campbell's turn to speak again. “But we should be cautious. The next few months may be particularly difficult for interstellar politics until the Rasenni get their internal affairs sorted out. We believe there is a very high chance of Ukhuri aggression and should be prepared for the repercussions.”

“
Does State agree?” Jennifer Solwyn asked. With the Rasenni distracted basically every pirate lord, one system entity and crackpot group usually kept in line by the old empire would be sniffing fresh air. This could become a problem, not only for the NAU's interstellar commerce but also for its colonies' security.