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Governor Pal Bennis sat in the former bedchamber of Director Nathan Cochrane of Quantar, savoring the taste of the warm liquid flowing across his tongue. He leaned back in his desk chair, golden bed robe swishing softly across his ample belly, his every motion exaggerated by the sound of the fabric. Yet he did not notice it, nor any of the ornate beauty of the quarters he found himself in. Neither the artwork on the walls, nor the artisans touch on the ceiling brocade, nor the fineness of the bed linens, nor the detailed wood sculpture of his desk and chair; all of these were lost on him. To Bennis this room, in fact this entire world, was merely a way station from which to contemplate the shape of his universe through the bottom of a glass.
He poured from the bottle again. Taxthillian brandies were among the finest in the Empire, and the best that the Cochrane family had in their stores. Those stores, once rich and renowned across half a sector, were nearly depleted now. Just a few of the brandies and other exotics had been left behind for his consumption on Quantar. The best of the stock had been carted off to Callis, the Governor’s home world. Still, Bennis found most of his solace these days in the rich liquors the Cochrane’s had built up over three hundred years of Directorial rule.
Bennis drank again, this time hard and fast, as if to push all thoughts of Quantar from his mind. He hated this backwater world, with its bitter winters and mild, bland summers. He longed to return to the warmth of Callis, to his Imperial seat as Governor of the Frontier Sector. Callis was the last real seat of civilization as far as he was concerned, and Quantar, well, Quantar was just a necessary evil, a family that needed to be eliminated on his way to absolute rule of his sector. Prince Arin had been a stroke of luck, a willing accomplice to accelerate his goals. Goals which reached even further than the Emperor himself suspected...
Three years, he thought. Three years I’ve been on this rock, and still these rebels fight on. He poured a third time and raised the glass, contemplating the golden brown liquid as it reflected light off the faceted crystal. Bennis felt the twinge of arousal stir in him, a result of the Exotic liquor filling his veins. Absently he glanced at the door to his private chamber, knowing one of the rebel women, captured during the day’s rounds, lay beyond, bound and unable to resist. He would find his way there soon, and after he had finished with her he would have her executed by his Palace Guard. Perhaps that will be better for her.
Bennis drained his glass and rose from the desk, an antique commissioned by a Cochrane ruler of two centuries previous. He stopped to contemplate himself in an ornate mirror, rubbing at his balding head and wrinkled face, the cuts of age deepened by excessive living and unfulfilled ambition. He neared sixty standard years, but looked a decade older.
He turned his attention to the bedchamber door as thoughts of his impending pleasures flashed through his mind, aided by the Exotic. Just as he began to move toward the door the chamber bell rang. His displeasure obvious, Bennis activated the intercom.
“What do you want?”
His chief chamber guard answered. “It is Prince Arin to see you sir,”
“I asked what you wanted,” Bennis made no effort to hide his rising anger. This time the voice of the Prince Regent came over the intercom.
“I have news from Arimel. All of it is not good,” Arin’s voice was heavy with static, a result of the security filters the Governor had installed, but Bennis could detect an edge of urgency just the same. Without another word he opened the bedchamber door by remote, allowing Arin to enter. The ghostly figure of the Prince crossed the foyer and passed through the silken fabric panels which separated the entry from the main chamber. Bennis sat himself at the desk of Nathan Cochrane and looked up into the black eyes of his son.
“Report, I have things to attend to.”
Arin raised a quizzical eyebrow, the corners of his mouth turning up in an insincere smile. “Yes, I expect you’ll find her to your liking.” Bennis rubbed at his chin.
“That is not your concern. Running this planet and ruling it in my name is. You have done neither particularly well as of late.”
Arin nodded slightly, showing respect for Bennis both men knew to be false. Their relationship had been strained for months, and Bennis suspected what he was about to hear would make it more so. Arin spoke matter-of-factly, with no effort to cushion the news he was presenting.
“Arimel has reported. My younger brother is still alive.”
A moment passed with no reaction. Then a low growl began in Bennis, growing rapidly as he rose from the desk and threw his brandy glass against a painting on the wall, shattering it as a scream of rage escaped from him.
“Idiots! Bloody PKI idiots!”
Arin waited a moment to let Bennis stew, then spoke again. “There is more to report,” he said. Bennis breathed deeply and then sat down again, controlling his rage as best he could.
“Tell me,”
“It appears he was taken captive by rebels. Quantar rebels.”
Bennis looked up at his charge, astonished. “What did you say?”
Arin continued. “They had agents aboard the Starliner, one leading the operation and another masquerading as a Lady from an Executive family on Beta Sorel. My brother and the Lady apparently took a liking to each other. When Arimel took them hostage as planned he found she was,” Arin paused here for dramatic effect, “an assassin.”
Bennis sat motionless behind the desk. Arin cocked his head to one side, curious at the lack of response. Then something unexpected happened. Bennis began to laugh. It came from deep inside, lacking any semblance of true human pleasure. Bennis stood, his laughter echoing, and began prancing around the room.
“Oh-ho-ho my friend! An assassin?” he giggled. “The bloody fools...” he gasped for breath, “The bloody fools want to kill the only man who could possibly save them-” Bennis’s voice trailed off as he laughed himself breathless, finally reclining again in the desk chair. “My friend, your people may be as stubborn a lot as I’ve ever seen, but I say it now: they make up for it with blunt stupidity!” Then his laughter filled the room again.
Arin took two steps forward, a look of seething resentment on his face. “Your people could not have handled Quantar without me. Don’t sell us short so easily. We may yet surprise you.”
Bennis eyed Arin with contempt.
“My young man, Prince Regent of Quantar, don’t push our relationship. You are here because you are convenient. Emperor Pendarkin and I control Quantar, and just as easily as I found you I can find another ambitious young Royal to take your place,” he said.
“No other Royal is the son of the Planetary Director,” defended Arin.
Bennis nodded. “True, but no other Royal has his father locked in a suspension booth twenty-four hours a day, either! Do not tempt me, Arin. The Kallaket could hear of your activities at any time. And their punishments would be most distasteful to you. If you truly long for power, continue to serve me, there will be plenty of it to go around soon enough. In the meantime find out where the rebels took young Sire Dane Cochrane. For you to be truly safe and for me to accomplish my goals he must die.”
“I already know where they’ve taken him,” stated Arin flatly. This got the Governor’s interest. He leaned forward in the chair.
“Where boy? Tell me.”
“To the Sanctuary,” A quizzical look came across the Governor’s face.
“Earth? Why?”
“Because that is where they are based. Them and every other group of revolutionary scum in the Empire,” Bennis nodded at this.
“It makes sense. We must discover his fate. Will they execute him? He must die, that much is certain.”
Arin crossed his arms as the conversation turned in his favor. He pressed forward. “Perhaps, we should go there and make sure for ourselves,” he said.
“We’ve already tried that. Arimel and his fool operatives are worse than your men,” Arin smiled bleakly.
“I did not mean infiltrate them, Governor. I was suggesting a less subtle approach,” Bennis feigned interest.
“Such as?”
“We take the Vixis there to enforce the Emperor’s will on the only outpost of humanity that still resists him.”
Bennis snorted his disdain. “A direct assault on the Sanctuary?” Bennis waved him the idea away with one hand. “The Kallaket would never stand for it.”
Arin leaned forward and placed his hands on the desk to face Bennis at eye level. “But if we could do it under the guise of some humanitarian act, say a rescue mission...” Bennis began to smile at this.
“Ah yes, a rescue mission....” he began laughing once more, then turned serious, clearly taking the proposition seriously. “A mission to the Sanctuary to rescue Sire Dane Cochrane from anti-Imperial rebels, with him assassinated before he can be rescued,” he said.
Arin nodded, then made his play. “Precisely. And with his loving brother in command of the rescue mission.”
Bennis turned cold in an instant. “My young friend, no one commands the bridge of the Vixis but me. No one.” The little bastard is testing me, he thought. “Do we understand each other?”
Arin smiled snake-like at his older adversary. “I merely thought that the political gain could be multiplied by my presence in command of the mission,” Bennis’s eyes narrowed at Arin.
“Not as long as I live, young Prince,” his words clearly carried within them an edge of lethal intent. Arin chose to back away, for the moment.
“As you wish, Governor.”
Bennis rubbed his chin again. “This brings other matters to mind,” he said. Arin sat down in a desk chair.
“What matters could possibly be more important than the destruction of my brother?”
Bennis leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Finally you have asked me a question worth answering,” he said, “It is time to talk about the future,” Arin reacted with just a hint of interest playing across his face.
“What future?”
“Our future, young royal. Yours, and mine,” This time Arin was unable to disguise his interest. He put his fingers together in a steeple and sat back just a bit.
“Go on,” he said.
“Your brother’s untimely death is a certainty. But we must look beyond today,” Bennis eyed his young apprentice closely before continuing. “I have no heir, you know that. Despite my protestations to the contrary, you are the most promising young man I have come across in my travels. I am prepared to make you an offer, in return for a small consideration.”
Now it was Arin who feigned disinterest. “You have no title that I covet. You are not a Director, you are an Imperial Governor, a political appointee. You have no property to offer me. And I have all the wealth of Quantar. What could you offer me?”
“Perhaps it is what we could offer each other that counts, Arin. It is true that I am not titled. It is also true that I am ambitious. I already control the wealth of an entire Imperial Sector and one of only twelve Starliners in the Known Universe. I dominate a dozen worlds through men just like you. But I cannot attain to higher places. To make war on our august Pendarkin would turn the other governors into warlords fighting me, not to mention the Kallaket families. To try and expand my holdings by force at the expense of some other governor would also cause destructive polarization of the warlords into armed alliances. The resulting conflicts would leave little left to exploit.”
Arin waved him off. “Yes, yes, I know all this. It is elementary politics. ‘The Emperor’s Scales’. Principal forces balanced against each other, so the Emperor rules and peace is maintained. And I wish it to be noted that I have never volunteered to fight by your side against Emperor Pendarkin,”
Bennis smiled thinly but said nothing for a moment, then: “But what if I had a way into the Emperor’s palace, through the back door, so to speak, eh?”
Arin eyed Bennis with suspicion. “I am not fond of back doors. Too often the refuse moves back and forth through them,” he said. Bennis ignored the insult and pressed forward.
“Listen closely now. Soon your father will die his untimely death, and with young Sire Dane out of the way as his heir I can then move to place you in the Chair as Director of Quantar under the military code. Then we will be free to move against the other obstacles we face,”
Arin shrugged. “What obstacles?” he said casually. Bennis nodded.
“Your ancient enemies, the Feilberg family, for one. It is they who hold the key to the Inner Empire. Their home world is the nearest gateway. Once we have them under control we will have a launching base to move against Pendarkin. Think of it! Shipping lanes! Industrial production! Thousands of merchant ships! All at our disposal,”
Arin shook his head. “Outrageous! Just how do you propose to move against the Feilberg’s? They hold a permanent seat on The Board. They are one of the twelve oldest and most power families in the Empire. The entire Kallaket would line up to stop us if we attacked them. Even the Emperor must consult Henrik Feilberg before he moves.”
Bennis sat back in his chair, smiling broadly. “And that’s the beauty of it! It is such a simple plan. Raw resources pass from the Frontier worlds through what planetary system and Directorship on their way to the Inner Empire?”
“The Quantar system, of course. Or more precisely, the Trojan Point asteroids on the Cloud Rim,” replied Arin.
“Thus your great reputation as merchant traders despite this frozen rock’s lack of valued natural resources,” Arin bristled at the insult.
“If you find Quantar so unappealing, perhaps you should plan to leave. Soon,” The statement carried more than a hint of threat to it.
“Trust me, young man, nothing would please me more. Never a day of warmth on Quantar that can’t be followed by rain of hail or a snowstorm! Four puny months of spring and summer. I would gladly be off this planet if I thought you reliable enough to leave in charge!”
Arin held his tongue, but the ripple of muscles along his jaw line and the clenching of fists told another story. He looked as if he wanted to rip the older man apart. Well enough, thought Bennis. At least he cares about his world enough to defend it. I can use that.
After a long moment of silence Arin spoke, choosing his words carefully. “Then we are agreed on one thing, Governor. We both want you off this planet. Now, how do we make the dream a reality?” Bennis continued with his lecture.
“Those natural resources never touch down on Quantar before they move off to Walachia, or some to my Sector capitol at Callis, but mostly through Feilberg held systems to be processed and produced. Then on to the Inner Empire, and Corant,” he said.
“If the Frontier trade were to suddenly diminish, even stop because of some interstellar crisis, say a rebellion on Quantar, where a titled Director had been assassinated, obviously the Feilberg family would be in distress. They would have to fall back on family reserves to continue meeting production quotas. In short, they would grow weaker. In the meantime, all those raw resources would be redirected to the only logical place they could be protected, my seat at Callis. From there we take advantage of the depressed market to undersell the Feilberg clan and their agents on the open market, and reap a fortune.”
“It sounds as if you would reap the fortune, Governor. Quantar would become a desert,” Bennis nodded agreement.
“True enough. The real gain in my proposal is not in the profits we will cull from selling raw resources. It comes from production,”
“But the Feilberg’s own the production centers,” said Arin.
“Also true. So in order to gain control of those production centers we must gain control over the Feilberg family,”
Arin scoffed at this. “How would we do that? Fighting the Emperor directly would be easier.”
“But then that is where you come in, Prince Regent. Henrik Feilberg has a daughter, an unmarried daughter. In return for a resumption of trade with them, they will accede to a political marriage,” Bennis paused for a moment for effect. “You, and Karina Feilberg.”
Arin laughed out loud at this. “Come now Governor, do you think me a backwater rube you can so easily manipulate? I have heard the stories about her. They say she is a witch, that she can see things no one should see, even though she has been blind from birth. I will not marry her. Besides, she does not get us into the Imperial Palace.”
Bennis shook his head. “Dear Arin,” he said, sarcasm heavy in his voice. “Karina Feilberg is a second cousin to the Emperor. Pendarkin has no heir, thanks to the cursed Shandai priests. If you marry her, with my military might behind you, plus the weight of the Feilberg family name, who else will Pendarkin have to turn to? And then I will have him, militarily and politically. I will rule in everything but name and then I will squeeze him from his throne. Once Pendarkin is gone, consider this; I am thirty years your senior, I will not live forever. When I pass on then the Imperium will belong to only one man,” He sat back in the chair as his words sank in to Arin.
“Me,” said Arin, shock and surprise spreading across his gray face.
“Exactly.”
Arin shifted in his chair. “Only one problem I see. What would the Feilberg’s gain, with a Cochrane ruling their house?”
“They would gain an heir to the Imperial throne. More than enough to compensate for a single Cochrane ruler, wouldn’t you say? And we will trade them the resources they need to secure their loyalty. Everyone wins. Except of course your unfortunate brother,” At this a wide smile broke across the Governor’s features.
“My unfortunate brother,” repeated Arin.
Then two men laughed together, their voices echoing through the chamber.