“Then it’s done.” Margaret’s voice was filled with awe.

“What does that mean?” Rlinda whispered to her.

“Iam now the Klikiss race. I am the hive mind that controls them all.”The simulated head shifted, but the face it formed was not even remotely human, with no hint of Davlin Lotze. It looked like a giant spiny insect.“Now I will change. Surviving members of every subhive will travel here, and my domates will devour them at last. Then I will embark on a great fissioning.”

Margaret looked alarmed. “But, Davlin, that will drown you out — your personality will be lost in the noise!”

The sculptured insect head crumbled into a mound of individual chaotically moving pieces. As far as Rlinda could tell, Davlin Lotze was already little more than a whisper in the cacophony of the gigantic hive mind.

89

Deputy Chairman Eldred Cain

He did not want to be at the execution ceremony, but Chairman Wenceslas had given him no choice. Deputy Cain and Sarein must be visibly present, Basil insisted, so that the public could see their unwavering support. Cain thought he might be sick, but he took refuge in his role as the unflappable deputy.

Sarein’s voice carried a faint, forlorn tremble. “I remember when I used to love to watch the pageants, parades, and spectacles, Basil. Why don’t we do something positive for a change, show the people the true core of the Hansa?”

The Chairman looked at her with an unreadable expression. Did he suspect something? “Oh, this will be a spectacle — just as Freedom’s Sword expected my assassination to be a grand show.”

Playing his part as never before, a somberly uniformed King Rory sat on a temporary throne high above the square, where he would mete out the Hansa’s retribution. Rory’s dark hair was perfectly cut, and the folds of heavy cloth disguised his thin body.

“Where is Captain McCammon?” Sarein asked, unsuccessfully trying to keep the alarm out of her voice. “Shouldn’t he be here?”

“This work goes beyond the duties of the royal guard,” Basil said. “I have come to question McCammon’s enthusiasm, if not his loyalty. He failed to find a single confirmed member of the dissident group, but my cleanup crew discovered plenty as soon as they looked hard enough.”

“Rounding up the usual suspects?” Cain asked.

“The evidence Colonel Andez provided was suitably convincing,” the Chairman said.

As Rory sat on his throne, looking gravely important, a staccato burst of gunfire echoed across the plaza, but it was just part of the military parade. Dark-uniformed soldiers with red piping and red armbands marched into the plaza.

The Chairman’s elite cleanup crew came forward carrying long jazer rifles on their shoulders, hustling along a group of eighteen bound and gagged prisoners. Their faces were gaunt, their eyes hollow; some were frantic, but all were secured in tight restraints. They stumbled as they attempted to keep pace with the military march. At the front of the group, Colonel Andez was actually grinning. Everyone could smell execution in the air.

Finally, King Rory recited his words. The boy knew not to deviate from the script. He could not entirely hide the quaver in his voice, though otherwise he valiantly acted his role. “Our enemies are not only those who attack us on distant planets or out in space. Our enemies are not limited to the Klikiss, the hydrogues, or the faeros, or even Peter and his rebellious Confederation. Sadly, we also have enemies right here among us — in our neighbors, our supposed friends! It is a rot working its way through our society.

“A group known as Freedom’s Sword is a poison to humanity. There can be no doubt of this after their recent failed attempt to assassinate Chairman Wenceslas. Fortunately, the plotters of this foul murder have been apprehended, thanks to the diligence of my people.” He raised his hands in benediction.

After the young King had finished, a lesser functionary came forward and in a ponderous voice read the names and crimes of the eighteen bound prisoners. One of them was a man still wearing mime’s makeup.

Cain listened to charges of “unspeakable” crimes, alleged proof of involvement in the assassination plot. He doubted any of them were genuinely members of Freedom’s Sword, but they made convenient scapegoats. No doubt they had been caught speaking against the administration. That was good enough to condemn them.

As soon as the assassination plot had failed, Cain knew the reactionary response would set in. He had been so careful to cover his tracks, to hide every hint that he or Sarein or McCammon might have been involved. He had left no evidence, no proof.

Chairman Wenceslas, however, didn’t need any evidence or proof. He simply made up his own mind.

“We can all rest easy, now that the perpetrators have been brought to justice,” Basil said.

The cleanup crew backed away to leave the group of prisoners standing in full view. As Colonel Andez unshouldered her jazer rifle and the other dark-uniformed soldiers did the same, the “conspirators” were herded together.

The knots grew tighter in Cain’s stomach. Sarein seemed about to faint, and he reached over to steady her. Basil’s eyes were fixed on the eighteen prisoners. One of them lurched against the group and tried to push toward the crowd despite his restraints. His movement was the trigger Andez had been waiting for. The cleanup crew fired their jazer rifles in a buzzing lightning storm of ozone and blinding light, flashing webs of disintegrating energy.

All eighteen prisoners were chopped into smoking hunks of meat. The carnage was over in seconds, but the reeking smoke curled upward long after. People in the crowd screamed. Basil smiled. He seemed to hear it as cheers.

With well-practiced moves, Andez snapped orders to her fellow guards. They shouldered their rifles and stepped back in perfect ranks. King Rory swayed uncertainly on his throne, as the silence hung for a long moment.

“Why doesn’t he speak?” Basil muttered. “He knows what he’s supposed to do.”

Finally the boy remembered himself and got to his feet, starting out with a stammer but growing stronger. “Please don’t make us do this again. Be loyal to your government. Help us achieve our victory. That is all I want, as your King.”

Basil seemed impressed with his delivery. “Not bad.”

“He’s right,” Sarein said in a raspy voice. “Let’s hope we never have to do this again.”

90

Sullivan Gold

Two days after the horrific public executions, Sullivan opened the door to find a crisply uniformed Colonel Andez and six of her thugs ready to pounce. Lydia, standing in the kitchen, said sourly, “Tell them to leave.”