When the lift doors whisked open, the two took a moment to recover their professional composure before stepping out onto theJupiter ’s main deck.

Admiral Willis got to her feet. “Congratulations on your promotion, General. You were always an excellent soldier and, in my opinion, not as much of a horse’s ass as Lanyan was.”

Conrad was taken aback by her candor. “The consequences of my predecessor’s decisions. speak for themselves. I hope to employ a somewhat different command approach.”

Robb extended his hand. “Now’s our chance to set things straight, sir.” He glanced at the immensely complex tangle of projected orbits of all the lunar fragments that had been mapped thus far. “There’s plenty of work to do.”

His father nodded. “I’ve already authorized the release of our largest warhead stockpile. The Chairman objected to putting such weapons anywhere close to Confederation loyalists, but I overruled him when eight fragments left a chain of craters across the Sahara.” He drew a deep breath, gazing toward the deceptively calm image of Earth on the viewscreen. He could not see the deadly storm of rubble all around them in space, but he knew it was there.

“Chairman Wenceslas didn’t want us to use every means possible to prevent further impacts?” Robb said in disbelief. “What in the world did he expect us to do with the atomics — launch a warhead strike on Earth?”

Admiral Willis shook her head, looking disgusted. “These fragments are bad enough, General Brindle, but in my studied opinion, the Chairman himself is an even greater danger to Earth.”

113

Sarein

When Basil came to her quarters that night, Sarein was not ready for him.

After the murder of Captain McCammon, the sudden disaster with the Solar Navy, and then the faeros at the Moon, the Chairman had withdrawn to deal with other emergencies. Sarein had avoided him entirely and had actually been relieved when he retreated to his underground bunker far beneath the Hansa HQ.

Every shred of hope, every small confidence that she could change him and halt his plunge into irrationality, had died with McCammon.

Now, in the middle of the night, Basil stood at her door looking as if he could go anywhere he wished, and she knew she had no choice but to let him in. If she had considered it even remotely likely that he would visit her, Sarein would have found a different place to sleep. to hide.

Now it was too late. She didn’t dare raise his suspicions, since she knew what he was capable of doing. He had given the order to kill McCammon with no more emotion than he would have shown in asking for a sandwich. Had that truly been the end of his witch hunt, or was he still suspicious?

Now he was here.

And he wanted totouch her.

Basil smiled at her. “That’s not a very warm welcome, Sarein.” She thought there was a smell of blood about him, a metallic tang that made her heart stutter. “You seem surprised to see me. You must feel neglected. Have you forgotten all the times you asked me to come to your quarters? Those were good days. stable days.” He raised his eyebrows. “I was afraid you might think I was avoiding you, that I was too preoccupied with the concerns of the Hansa.”

“I understood completely, Basil.” What had he been imagining?

He walked through her remodeled chambers without bothering to look around. She had no doubt that he regularly observed her quarters with his own surveillance systems. Did he watch her undress, like a voyeur? Did he look at her longingly and remember the times they had actually been happy, or at least content together? Did Basil Wenceslas even have lustful thoughts, or was that part of him dead? As he stepped closer, she knew for certain it had died inher.

She could not show her anxiety, but he had to know she was still shaken by the execution. McCammon had been her friend. One moment he had been alive, protecting her, caring for her, and the next, his blood had spattered her cheek, her clothes. She drew a deep breath and tried to think of some way to stall him. “Would you like me to put on some music, Basil? Shall I call for a meal?”

He placed his hands on her upper arms, drawing her close. “We’re well past the point where we need to waste time on a long, slow seduction — aren’t we?” He kissed her. Sarein tried her best to respond, but she felt sick.

Captain McCammon. his body spasming from multiple gunshot wounds, sprawling on the floor. the scarlet pool leaking out.

She couldn’t get enough air to breathe. She shuddered when he stroked her short hair, traced his fingers down her back, then reached around to her breasts.

“I can tell you’re excited,” he said.

Sarein wanted to scream.

She pulled away from him as much as she dared. “Why the sudden change in attitude, Basil?” She had to pray that he was convinced McCammon was the only conspirator, that he had dealt Freedom’s Sword a mortal wound, even though Patrick Fitzpatrick had become a prominent new thorn in his side.

“Does it displease you?” he asked.

“No. I just don’t understand the reason for this.”

He explained with maddening logic. “As more and more people turn against me, Sarein, I know I can’t go it alone. Who else can I rely on? Deputy Cain? Perhaps. Colonel Andez? Of course, but only to follow orders. Remember what you and I had. Who could possibly be a better companion to shoulder the important responsibilities? You were my apprentice. I taught you about politics. You and I were perfect partners.”

“Yes, we were.”A long time ago. before you became a madman.

He seemed certain that his comment would act as an aphrodisiac, because he found the idea so very seductive himself. But Sarein knew that Chairman Wenceslas would never surrender any real power, never allow her to make changes or decisions. When she’d first met him, she had been young and naive. She had listened to his philosophy and studied him — for a time.

He had killed McCammon.

He had killed the Archfather.

He had killed former Chairman Fitzpatrick.

He had tried to kill Peter and Estarra, more than once.

He stroked her cheek, smiling at her. Although his hands were covered with invisible blood, Sarein had to be more convincing than ever in her life, or he just might find the excuse he needed to kill her too. Sarein felt detached and bleak as he led her into the bedroom, but she didn’t show it. He never noticed the difference.

Basil did not take long to finish. For him, the visit didn’t seem to be so much about sex as it was about making sure that he had Sarein under his control. Afterward, she felt soiled, and as soon as she could make a proper excuse, she hurried into the bathroom to wash up. She wanted to take a long shower to cleanse herself, but Basil was still there, and she had to go back to him, not hide. For a moment, nausea threatened to overwhelm her.