4

Cheops
Seventh District, Nusakan
14 September 3134

Jasek Kelswa-Steiner sat in the highest chair of the three-man tribunal, presiding over the court-martial along with Colonels Joss Vandel and Antonio Petrucci. A slight blush warmed the back of his neck every time he glanced in the direction of Tamara Duke, who rarely took her eyes off him, but fortunately the dusky skin he’d inherited from his mother hid it well. It was the only relief he expected today. His freshly starched uniform chafed at the neck and wrists. The weight of so many stares pressed against him with credible force, shoving him into the padded backrest.

Dozens of military uniforms packed the tiny auditorium, which usually served as a presentation room in the GioAvanti, Inc., administrative building. Officers reserved themselves a chair in the short rows of flip-down seating while enlisted personnel and some civilian contractors crowded along the walls. The heavy press of bodies raised the room’s temperature several uncomfortable degrees. Some men and women fanned themselves with their military caps. Others silently sweated it out as Hauptmann Vic Parkins entered the room without counsel or military escort and came to attention in front of the three-man court.

Jasek nodded his own salute. “Stand easy,” he ordered Parkins, who tucked himself into a stiff parade rest.

The entire room held its breath. Jasek let them stew a moment.

By toting up unit insignia, the Landgrave saw that Colonel Petrucci’s Lyran Rangers counted for more than half of the assembled audience. That was expected, since the Rangers were as large as the Stormhammers’ other two combat groups combined. Most of the militia and standing-army soldiers who had followed Jasek into exile filled out Ranger billets, in fact. Hastati Sentinels and Principes Guards. Triarii Protectors. He had kept them together as much as possible. They were a tight-knit group.

They would also be the hardest affected by today’s judgment, and he meant to save as many of them as he could.

Alexia Wolf’s Tharkan Strikers were the next most prevalent unit. Green troops, mostly, drawn from volunteers and militia castoffs, or recruited directly by Alexia from a few scattered academies, making up in enthusiasm what they lacked in experience.

Very few of Joss Vandel’s elite Archon’s Shield battalion had bothered to attend. Those who did, Jasek recognized as men and women who had also come with him from Skye or from other “heritage worlds” of the old Isle. The Lyran Commonwealth recruits and the Lohengrin agents “loaned” Jasek by his distant cousin, the Commonwealth’s Archon, had better things to do than sit through more Republic squabbling.

As did Jasek himself.

“The charge of treason is a delicate and dangerous matter,” the Landgrave began in his best stage voice. “It should never be brought lightly, or with personal animosity, and the investigation never colored by politics, by personal ambition, or by emotion. This tribunal has acted in the best interests of all true citizens of Skye, the Stormhammers, and Hauptmann Vic Emanual Parkins to ensure a fair and impartial judgment.”

He spoke slowly and with deliberate enunciation. Jasek’s father had taught him the value of ceremonial speaking, among other things.

Weighted words carry farther than the ears. They settle into the minds and the hearts of all who hear them.

Which was why Jasek had named “all true citizens of Skye” first and foremost, referring to the grand Isle of Skye rather than Skye as a lone world lost among a census. It was one of his rallying cries, after all, to point out how Devlin Stone had in effect disenfranchised so many citizens of the Isle during The Republic’s creation, and it would be good to see something useful come from this delay. Sitting court was not how he had hoped to spend his final days on Nusakan. The necessity of listening to depositions and reviewing evidence had interrupted preparations to fully mobilize, costing the Stormhammers precious time. He’d had to be certain, though, that one act of treachery was not an indication of a deeper conspiracy within his most steadfast troops. And he had owed Tamara a chance to prove her case.

Now he owed Hauptmann Parkins an apology.

Jasek stood, leaning forward on the rail that separated the tribunal from the accused man. Parkins pulled himself up to strict attention.

“It is the finding of this tribunal that no evidence of conspiracy exists to place Hauptmann Vic Parkins in collusion with the personnel who did, with malicious intent, fire on their commander in the recent mission on Towne.”

Vic Parkins had already been informed of the judgment in private. Even so, his shoulders slumped with relief to hear it announced.

Several officers surged to their feet, applauding the tribunal’s findings. Along the wall, many Lyran Rangers cheered. Not exactly for Parkins, they cheered with him. Their relief was obvious. No soldier wanted to suspect treachery within his or her own ranks.

Jasek waved down the excitement. He saw Kommandant Duke rise to her feet as well, holding a stiff military bearing. She also had comrades along the wall, brooding, fearing another shot in the back. The Landgrave had to repair the potential damage if he hoped to salvage both officers.

“At worst,” he continued, “Hauptmann Parkins’ actions might be considered overzealous and could have encouraged such a rogue action.” The implied rebuke was just enough to silence the cheers, and offer Tamara Duke a salve that she had not brought charges without cause. “But the hauptmann’s interrogation by machine testing and voluntary administration of truth serum has more than convinced this panel of his lack of guilt. All charges are dropped with the court’s apology. Hauptmann Parkins is returned to full, active duty immediately.”

More applause, though less strident than before. Parkins stepped forward and traded hand clasps with Colonel Petrucci and Colonel Vandel. He caught Jasek’s hand as the Stormhammers’ leader came down from the high chair.

“Thank you, Landgrave.”

The armor commander had a crushing grip, which at another time might have been a test of strength. Now there was no mistaking the flush of goodwill that colored his cheeks.

“No thanks necessary, Hauptmann. I will, of course, consider any request for a transfer if you feel it is truly needed.” He said this as Tamara Duke approached, letting her pick up on the offer.

“Shaking up your lines right before battle is never a good idea, sir.” Parkins turned to face Tamara as she joined them. “I believe I can still work within Kommandant Duke’s company, if she’ll have me. No hard feelings. In her place, I might have done the same.”

“And in your place, I’d hope to be as gracious,” Tamara said, shaking his hand once, formally. Apology accepted, and given. But it strained the borders of camaraderie.

More work to be done here, Jasek noted, but left it alone for now. “Hauptmann, please see to your unit while I borrow your commander for a time.”

Parkins nodded, traded salutes, and moved for the rear of the auditorium. Several officers and enlisted waited there, and accepted him warmly into their company. They moved out in a large group.

Alexia Wolf replaced Parkins, nodding shortly to Tamara as an apology for the intrusion. “They are ready for us,” she said. If she said it slightly possessively, Jasek couldn’t really blame her.

Or Tamara, for the way the junior officer bristled at the implied dismissal.

Gathered by Niccolò, Petrucci and Vandel were already stealing out a side door of the small auditorium, the only door guarded by a sentry with a sidearm. “I’ll be along in a moment, Alex.” The familiar address didn’t help the escalating level of tension.

With a warm smile the leutnant-colonel preceded them out the side door. It led to a short, wide hallway that ran through a network of executive offices. The faint aroma of gourmet coffee seemed to ooze from the paneled walls and thick carpet. Empty secretarial desks competed in size for prestige. The doors behind them ran contests for the longest, most boldfaced title.

Senior Executive Vice President for Managing Operations was Jasek’s favorite.

“I would rather this had been handled quietly, Tamara,” he said once the two of them had a moment alone in the hall. It was as close as he wanted to come to a formal rebuke. No press had been allowed into the closed deliberations or for the judgment today, but the story would leak soon enough. Niccolò had promised that it would not break before the Stormhammers left Nusakan. That was something.

Still, “A public arrest does not help us show cohesiveness.”

“Landgrave . . . Jasek . . .” She put some strength in her spine, coming to near attention. “I would never do anything to jeopardize the Stormhammers.”

“No,” he agreed, “you wouldn’t.”

Tamara’s loyalty could never be questioned—she wore it on her sleeve right where he could see it, which was why she had earned the Towne operation. But someone within her own unit had tried to assassinate her. Had that attempt been personal or political? There was no way to answer that question now.

“I’m not saying you didn’t have cause. But in situations like this, please leave the public orchestration of events to myself, or Nicco.”

“I don’t report to GioAvanti,” she said with a frown.

“No, but you did not report to Colonel Petrucci either,” he reminded her with a touch of steel in his voice. A show of personal displeasure would touch her more deeply than any formal reprimand, he knew. “And the question remains, what do we do with Hauptmann Parkins?”

“I still don’t trust him,” she said.

“Neither can I,” Jasek agreed, smiling thinly at her expression of total surprise. “I said we found no evidence of guilt. There is some gray shading between guilt and actual innocence, though. Like how much Vic Parkins suspected he might be influencing your subordinates.”

“Then why—”

“We need warriors, Tamara. I can’t afford to throw one away—a good one—on what he might have suspected. Or for being ambitious, so long as those ambitions stop short of treachery.”

Tamara nodded slowly. “But even if you’d transferred him, it would have undermined his authority. That could turn him toward treachery. Unless you promoted him as well.” Her lip curled in distaste at the thought.

“Or,” Jasek pointed out, “unless I now transfer you.”

“And which of the other colonels would give me a fair shake?” she asked, not believing it.

He shrugged, stopped outside a conference room. Joss Vandel’s deep baritone rumbled on the other side of a partially open door. No sentry here. If an agent of The Republic or Jasek’s father made it this far into the building, past the best security GioAvanti money could buy, one more man wasn’t going to make a difference.

Then, reconsidering, Jasek nodded at the door where Leutnant-colonel Wolf had entered ahead of them. “Alexia has asked about you,” he admitted. “She needs experienced people in the Tharkan Strikers.”

He figured the chance of Tamara accepting such a post would be the same as that of his father suddenly supporting the Archon of the Lyran Commonwealth, or the Exarch of The Republic voluntarily restoring the Isle of Skye. But long shots were known to come in now and then.

Not this time.

“No.” Tamara shook her head. “I know what I have with Petrucci. And with Parkins too, for that matter. I can make this work.” She paused, then, “You were going to ask me to keep him from the start, weren’t you?”

Her open incredulity made him laugh, which was good. Recent days had not offered much fuel for laughter. He leaned in close enough to smell the scented soap she used. Her eyes widened at his nearness, and he smiled for her benefit. “Yes, Tamara. I was. But I wanted you to work it through for yourself first.”

“Why, Jasek?” She almost sounded as if she were purring, basking in his warmth.

Careful . . . “Because I wanted things right between us before I invited you in on this command-level meeting.”

“Invite me in? Now?”

“We’re moving toward Skye right away,” he told her. “After a quick stop on Zebebelgenubi.”

“What? Why?”

“Some Highlanders got themselves trapped there,” he said, intentionally answering her question in the most literal way possible, even though he knew what she meant. “We’re hoping to pull them out from under the Falcons’ claws.”

“I meant, why pull me in? Why now?”

He saw it play over her face, no matter how guarded she thought she held her expression. Tamara Duke had nothing on Niccolò GioAvanti for a poker face. Jasek read her easily. The afterglow of his nearness. The sudden shock at being included in a command-level meeting, and then the surge of pride.

And the devotion—the worship—that invariably followed.

After tearing her down, just a little, it was time to raise her back up again and cement the bonds of loyalty that bound her to him. Niccolò called it “personal time.” Jasek’s father would simply call it leadership.

He knew what it really was, and felt only slightly the heel for taking advantage of her feelings and expectations as he picked up her hand and held it tightly.

“For the same reason I sent you to Towne,” he told her. “Because right now, this is where I need you.”

With her star-filled eyes and open body posture, if she heard anything other than “I need you” out of that, Jasek would be shocked. He dropped her hand as he opened the door, with no desire to rub Alexia’s face in the necessities of command.

From her hard expression, staring at them from the far side of the conference room table, he knew she considered it obvious enough.