A Choice of Treasons (81 page)

Schessa smiled. “It’s just a little secret, Marko,” she said, identifying him as Marko Simma, Duke de Jupttar. She looked at Abraxa. “Another one of Bargan’s little secrets.”

It was clear now that Schessa and Soladin had carefully orchestrated the meeting. Simma demanded in a hard, angry voice, “What is she talking about, Bargan?”

Abraxa shrugged and recovered quickly. “It’s no secret, at least not beyond these walls. In fact, I had prepared a briefing for all of you. If you’ll all look to your screens . . .” The split screen on York’s reader showed a picture of Add’kas’adanna. She looked better, though that streak of Kinathin pride glared out at them like a new sun in the galaxy. “Let me introduce Fleet Director Add’kas’adanna. Ballin captured her off Sarasan when he destroyed her ship. Of course, we’ve no hope of interrogating her. Like us, her neural core has been carefully programmed, and she’d die quickly should we attempt to extract any information from her by force.

“Next . . .” The picture shifted suddenly to the empress’ servant, though she was attired much more expensively than before. “Let me introduce Director of State Theara. Ballin didn’t exactly capture her. Apparently she was traveling in Her Majesty’s retinue disguised as a personal servant. That was the reason, by the way, for the trip to Trinivan—to meet up with Theara and have her join Sylissa d’Hart’s retinue, and then later that of Cassandra. And of course, we can no more interrogate Theara than we can Add’kas’adanna. But from other sources we know she was involved in a little conspiracy with Edvard and Cassandra, and she brought with her a proposal for a cease-fire, and a possible peace treaty.”

The shouting started again, and it was clear none of the nine admirals wanted to see their personal empires suddenly stricken with peace. There was no real argument, no disagreement, just an obvious and clear understanding among them all that, at any cost, peace could not be allowed to break out. But with his revelations Abraxa had effectively deflected their attention from his own little conspiracies. However, Soladin moved quickly to deflect them back. “At the moment,” he said, “I’m far more concerned about Ballin. He’s more dangerous to us than a few Directors of the Central Committee. Even more dangerous than that Kinathin fleet that’s bearing down on us. But there are some answers to be had. I think the foremost question on all our minds is,
Who is responsible for Ballin’s existence?
And that question wasn’t terribly difficult to answer. Remember, one of us had to intervene to save the young boy from a prison sentence. And again to get him into the Academy, and again every time he was reassigned, and again for any number of reasons. Now each intervention was carefully and subtly covered up, but each did leave a slight trace. And when you isolate them and put them together, they form a rather complete picture. Though, there is one question I still have.” He looked pointedly at Abraxa. “Tell me, Bargan. Who, or what, is
Wildflower
?”

Everyone looked at Abraxa, who sat back in his chair and let a sly smile form on his lips. “Very good, Johan,” Abraxa said. “Very good. Not just the detective work, the presentation was also quite impressive. How long have you known?”

Again angry shouts, demands and general chaos. “Silence,” Schessa shouted, raising her voice for the first time. York had heard that, next to Abraxa, Schessa was a power to contend with all her own. And the obedient silence that answered her spoke volumes for the respect, or awe, or more likely fear, with which the others regarded her. “Bargan,” she said, “Have you betrayed us?”

“Come now, Andralla,” Abraxa said, shaking his head impatiently. “Let’s not overreact here. Many years ago I came across an opportunity and I took it. I’ve done nothing with the
whore’s brat
other than keep him alive and out of the way, waiting to see if some opportunity presented itself. I did no more, nor no less, than any of you would have done.” Abraxa looked slyly at Soladin. “In fact, it’s obvious Johan has known about this for some time. So why didn’t he reveal it when he first learned of it—because like me he was waiting for an opportune moment to make use of it. And apparently he’s found it.”

“And the result,” Schessa continued, “is that you’ve put us all in danger. There’s no telling how the public would react to this information, or the military, or the senate. At least we have the royal family under our control at the moment . . .” As she spoke she reached out and closed a fist tightly in front of her, as if crushing something within her palm. “. . . but if this news were to get out there’s no telling what could happen.”

“My people know we betrayed Ballin at Sarasan,” Leonavich added, “and I’m having trouble with my junior officers.”

Degaas said, “Having trouble with your senior officers too, if we gage by the mutiny you had to put down.”

“Nevertheless,” Leonavich growled angrily, “There’s a lot of potential for popular support for this man in the officer corps, if the truth got out.”

Soladin spoke up. “Might I make a suggestion?”

York got the feeling that, between Schessa and Abraxa, there was a constant power struggle for supremacy over the Admiralty Council. At this moment, Schessa was temporarily top dog, and trying to consolidate her position. She nodded at Soladin.

“First,” Soladin said. “Let’s try Ballin in a military court, broadcast it and make it public. We’ll make sure Ballin completely discredits himself, comes off as a megalomaniac, a half mad renegade with a renegade crew. Ballin gets the death sentence, then after the trial he escapes, takes his ship and makes a run for it. In fact, we’ll keep his entire crew on
Cinesstar
under lock and key, use our own skeleton crew to stage the escape and do something a little spectacular. We’ll drive the ship out a few light-years from here, put a big warhead into it, then turn the propaganda people loose with a story about a pitched battle between our loyal troops and the mad renegade.”

They answered him with a long silence, which Abraxa finally broke. “It’s trite, sounds like a story on the vids.”

Soladin nodded and smiled. “But it’ll work.”

Again silence, this time broken by Leonavich. “Ballin and his crew deserve better than this.”

There was only a little more discussion, then the nine admirals voted, and unanimously sentenced York and his crew to death.

The scene on the reader card flickered suddenly, then switched to the courtroom, to York’s court-martial. But this wasn’t the prepared, edited, carefully massaged vid that had been broadcast to the public as a live trial. This was the raw footage. York watched them drag him into the courtroom, a beaten, broken man. Seeing it clearly now, even he was surprised at how brutal they’d been. He watched their first attempts at orchestrating the trial, watched the vid director interrupt and give orders to have him cleaned up. There were a few scenes of witnesses being called, scenes showing the vid director instructing them in the lies they were supposed to tell, instructing them in the punishment they would receive if they didn’t lie convincingly. Then there were the scenes when they brought York back, all cleaned up and healthy. York watched as he broke the vid-tech’s neck, watched the med-tech trying to calibrate the neural probe under the vid director’s instructions. And then there were scenes where they played him like a marionette, made him angry, made him sad, turned him on, turned him off.

The reader finished with more words from Palevi. “You just give the word, Cap’em, and we’ll get you out of there. Just let the next marine you see know, and we’ll take it from there.”

York withdrew the card from the reader, put it in a pocket, stood, went to the window and looked out at the lush, green countryside. That was clever of them. What a clever way to orchestrate the escape attempt Soladin wanted! Make him think he was escaping from the orchestrated escape attempt, escaping for real. If he gave Palevi the word he’d play right into their hands.

They’d won. He knew that now. He just wasn’t good enough at this game, and he didn’t want to play any longer. All he wanted now was to get some sleep, sleep with no nightmares.

CHAPTER 36: PARTY TIME

York watched the sun rise outside the window. He’d been up for some hours, awakened by one of his nightmares, could still remember the visions of body bags and body parts. It was a beautiful day, with a clear, blue sky like nothing he’d ever seen.

One of the AI goons brought his breakfast, did a good job of pretending to be a marine and asked him, “If there’s anything else the cap’em wants, anything at all, just let me know, sir.”

He had more of an appetite that morning, managed to eat something, then spent the morning staring out the window.

The AI goon that brought his lunch was rather transparent, picked up another reader card she’d brought with the food, shook the card at him and told him, “Real interesting news this morning, Cap’em.”

York was curious enough to take a look at the card. Like the other it was a normal vid broadcast, and at a certain point Palevi’s voice overrode the vid announcer’s. “Shit, Cap’em. Beggin’ yer pardon, sir, but we can’t keep these people in place forever. We got to move quick. Just give us the word.”

After lunch York returned to the window. He didn’t know how long he stood there when there came a knock at the door.

No one ever knocked, they just came in, so he crossed the room and opened the door, found Andralla Schessa standing there.

It occurred to him that a condemned man didn’t have to bow to anyone, but there was no reason to be uncivil. “Your Grace,” he said, bowing and stepping aside. “Come in, please. I doubt I can go out.”

She smiled at that as she stepped past him. “Thank you, Captain. Or should I call you lieutenant, or . . . cap’em.”

“Does it really matter?”

She lifted an eyebrow. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

York looked down the corridor outside before closing the door, saw no one, saw only wood paneling and carpet and other doors. He wondered for a moment if he should try to make a break for it, realized everything here was an illusion so he closed the door carefully. When he turned around Schessa stood there studying him. “Why didn’t you try for it?” she asked.

He thought about admitting he was beaten, decided he’d rather keep her misled. “I doubt I’d have been allowed to open the door if the appropriate precautions hadn’t been taken.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “You’re a smart man, Captain. For a man who’s kept alive all these years, how did you get yourself into this mess?”

He almost said,
It was Abraxa who kept me alive all these years
, but he wasn’t supposed to know about that. “Just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“No loyalties?” she asked. “No bitterness?”

He shook his head, walked past her to the bar, poured a strong drink and offered it to her. She took it, so he poured himself another. He looked at the drink, realized he hadn’t drunk anything for several days. “The loyalties I had are gone, and I can’t be bitter at anyone because I was the fool.” He tossed the drink down in a gulp.

She hesitated for a moment. “You know . . . there is a way out.”

He walked over to the window, looked out at the green countryside and took the bait. “And that is?”

She joined him at the window. “Join me. Come to work for me. I’ll make you one of my closest advisors.”

York looked at her carefully—she was serious. “I assume your colleagues on the Admiralty Council wouldn’t approve of my continued existence.”

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head at him. “A new face, a new name, a new identity, a carefully staged death, a body with your face and build, and a properly altered DNA report—these things can be arranged.”

“And my crew?”

“What crew?”

“
Cinesstar
.”

“Oh, that crew. I’m sorry, Captain. You must be realistic. We can’t save everyone.”

York nodded, continued to stare out the window and realized she was trying to do the same thing to him Abraxa had done for so many years, keep a prince of the royal blood on ice and wait for an opportune moment to make use of him. He thought of the pretty, young spacer he’d sat next to at
gunner’s blood
. She had looked at him with such admiration, expected so much of him. She was probably still on
Cinesstar
, waiting for him to do something miraculous, if she was still alive. “Let me think about it,” he lied.

“Very well, Captain. But don’t take too long.”

He didn’t escort her to the door, continued to stare out the window and heard the door close softly as she left.

No, he wouldn’t take Schessa’s offer. But unfortunately for that pretty, young gunner, he didn’t know any miracles either.

Another polite knock on the door. York answered it, ready to tell Schessa he couldn’t be her pawn, but found Palevi standing there dressed in an AI sergeant’s uniform. Palevi stepped quickly into the room; four of his people followed him, also in AI uniforms. He closed the door and said nervously, “Cap’em. We gotta move, now. We got the vids and monitors covered, and that’ll hold for maybe two hours, then they’ll know you’re gone.”