Ever since his return, Sullivan had been carefully watching the newsnets. The Hansa was no longer the same place he remembered. In the wake of King Peter’s departure, many unpleasant crackdowns had occurred. Not liking the repression she saw, Lydia wasn’t shy about expressing her opinions.

Sullivan had very much tried to keep a low profile, but the Hansa had come to his doorstep anyway.

“Colonel Andez, you’d better see this!” One of the guards pulled a box from under the bed. “Alien contraband!”

Sullivan’s heart sank. Inside the box were numerous etched gems and Ildiran credit chips. For his service to the Solar Navy, the Mage-Imperator had paid him in jewels and credits before his departure for Earth. Jora’h had asked Sullivan to stay in the Empire and manage their splinter colony of Dobro, but Sullivan had chosen to return to his wife and his family.

“Currency from the Ildiran Empire?” Andez asked.

Sullivan said patiently, “Payment for services rendered in the defeat of the hydrogues. It’s perfectly legitimate.”

“Then you admit you’re working for the enemy?”

He was baffled. “Since when was the Ildiran Empire our enemy?”

“Since they formed an alliance with the Confederation. Haven’t you heard?”

“Oh, this is just plain ridiculous,” Lydia said, exasperated on his behalf. “Even if what you say is true, Sullivan completed that work before the Chairman even imagined any hostilities with the Ildirans.”

“Can you prove this?” Andez said.

Lydia looked at the young officer as if she were a complete idiot. “He’s been back home since before the announcement was made. Do your math.”

“Sarcasm will not help the case against you,” Andez warned.

“There’s acase against us? On what grounds?”

“Lydia, please!” Sullivan had always loved the way she refused to let herself get pushed around, standing up for her family and her rights, but often her sharp tongue got her in trouble.

The burly man picked up the case of Ildiran gems. “This will have to be confiscated.”

“We need that money to survive,” Sullivan said in dismay. They had nothing else.

When he had originally agreed to run the Hansa cloud-harvesting facility on Qronha 3, the promised pay had been excellent, but it came with many strings attached — strings they hadn’t seen until too late. The Hansa had purposely delayed paying his family benefits when everyone assumed he and his crew were dead. And now that they knew he was alive after all, the situation was even more dire. If Sullivan really had been killed, the family would have gotten some sort of insurance payment, but since he’d lost a very expensive facility, the Hansa would make sure he forfeited any profits.

“Take it up with the Chairman,” Andez said. “Whenever he calls you.”

45

King Peter

Peter found it awkward to conduct government business with his infant son on his lap, but he didn’t want to give up a moment of it. Wrapped in a soft blanket, Reynald was comfortable and happy (for the time being) in the noisy ops center that Willis’s corps of engineers had erected. Estarra dangled a bright featherthread toy in front of the baby’s face. His eyes followed it, his expression screwed into one of confusion, fascination, and then delight.

Celli pushed her way into the room, practically bursting with her news. “An EDF battle group just attacked the Osquivel shipyards, led by General Lanyan himself. Casualty count is unknown.”

“What the hell does he think he’s doing?” Peter’s exclamation disturbed the baby. “First he ransacks the Golgen skymines, and now this!”

Oddly, Celli didn’t look terribly distraught. “Don’t worry, the EDF got their butts kicked. The Roamers defended the shipyards, and then Admiral Willis showed up. General Lanyan ran away so fast he didn’t even leave an exhaust trail.”

Estarra was defiant. “That’s a lesson the Hansa needed to learn.”

Peter turned white as he struggled to control his anger. “Basil wants to escalate this into a full-scale civil war, and we’re not prepared for that. Our military isn’t ready, and our planets are still reeling from the hydrogue war. Those are still my people on Earth, no matter what they’ve been coerced to do.”

“Don’t forget, by kidnapping the Mage-Imperator, he’s basically declared war on the Ildirans, too,” Estarra added in disgust. “Why do the people put up with the Chairman? How can we get them to overthrow him?”

Peter had been struggling with the same question. “We’ve sent condemnations, but Basil cracks down as fast as the news spreads. He keeps the people too frightened to look for alternatives.”

Estarra said, “But can’t they see how much harm the Chairman’s doing every day? He’s on a downward spiral, and he’s taking the human race down with him.”

“Not if I can help it.” Peter’s stomach was knotted. He paced the room, still cradling Reynald in the crook of his right arm. “If we could work through an intermediary, someone with enough power and respect to show a clear path through the transition—that might do the trick. The people would act decisively, if they were shown a viable alternative, but there’s going to be turmoil and bloodshed, any way you look at it.”

“We need an insider who can rally support and do an end run around the Chairman,” Estarra said. “What about Deputy Cain? Or Sarein? They helped us escape.”

“No, Basil watches them too closely. We need another respected voice, someone who isn’t afraid to speak out.” Peter suddenly looked up, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Former Chairman Maureen Fitzpatrick.”

“The Battleaxe? How will you convince her to switch sides?”

The wheels were already turning in Peter’s mind. “I’ll send word to Patrick Fitzpatrick on Golgen. He’s her grandson. I’m hoping he can make her an offer too good to refuse.”

46

Mage-Imperator Jora’h

Admiral Diente called a shaky Jora’h to the command nucleus as the warliner settled into orbit above Earth. When he first emerged from his stateroom, the Mage-Imperator moved slowly, angry that his weakness was so apparent. The stony EDF escort soldiers gave no indication that they noticed any change.

But he had survived the madness of isolation. He had found reserves of tenacity, both inside himself and in his half-breed daughter — reserves that Chairman Wenceslas had never known existed. Yes, Jora’h had beaten the Hansa leader. And now he was back.

In a concession to the Mage-Imperator’s plight, Diente had stretched the capabilities of the warliner’s engines, racing back with all possible speed. Bolstered by the thread of contact with Osira’h and her half-breed siblings, Jora’h had been able to cling to his sanity. Now that he could feel the proximity of other Ildiran captives in the lunar base, the strands of theirthism spun around him in a coalescing mist.