“You should let the Legate control the mobs,” Austin said. “That would be a better demonstration of his abilities.”

“No!” Sergio settled back down and looked at his son. “I don’t want him exercising more force than he has already. That would be counterproductive in restoring peace and would result in even more deaths. I’m going to speak to the people at a series of open forums to offer new aid programs.”

“You’d expose yourself to the mobs?” Dale’s eyes widened. “They’d lynch you!”

“Oh, come now, Dale. It’s not come to that. I am not ruling from behind a barricade, surrounded by bodyguards, like Czar Nicholas. I have to go to the people and talk with them, soothe their fears, let them know that the universe is not falling apart because the HPG net has been disrupted.”

“Elora plays on their fears with every newscast,” Austin said.

“I’ve spoken with her about overstepping her charter as Minister. She has quite a following among the disadvantaged, and I’m hesitant about removing her. The unemployed might see her firing as an attempt to silence their protests.”

“She’s trying to gain power by causing more unrest,” Austin said. He watched the play of emotions on his father’s face and took a shot in the dark. “Hanna spoke to you the day before she died. I saw her name on your schedule. Was it about Lady Elora?”

“It was nothing,” Dale cut in. “Don’t worry over it, Austin.”

“He’s right. She and I had a good discussion about many matters.” Sergio seemed to close down, and Austin knew it wouldn’t do any good trying to learn more, especially since Dale so readily agreed.

“Let’s forget about Elora, for the moment,” Sergio went on. “I’ve decided to accelerate the transfer of the First Cossack Lancers to the Legate’s authority. Effective immediately.”

Austin was too startled to say a word. He stared at his father in disbelief.

“But, Papa, immediately? You don’t want Tortorelli using the forces he has. Why give him more? Please reconsider transferring the FCL,” said Dale.

“The orders have been issued. Captain Leclerc is readying the unit’s transfer to the Blood Hills Barracks. Both of you are now on my staff.”

“What will you do for a bodyguard?” asked Austin. “If you plan to go into the city, you’ll need guards. Even here in the Palace, you need guards, if only to keep sightseers from wandering in.” Austin worried that more than casual tourists would stalk the halls of the Palace. There were too many nooks and crannies in which an assassin could hide. The FCL patrolled constantly and conducted random sweeps to protect the Governor.

“The Legate has agreed to deploy a detachment of honor guard. That’s all I really need.”

Austin and Dale exchanged looks. Their father placed too much faith in words and not enough in steel when it came to dealing with frightened citizens—and outright scoundrels.

“Send in my protocol officer. We need to discuss the Envoy’s itinerary.” Sergio’s expression softened as he looked squarely at Dale. “Even if you intend to work until we go on our fishing trip, take today off, Dale. A loss such as yours isn’t lightly dismissed.”

“Yes, sir,” Dale said.

Austin and Dale left, but Austin shivered as they passed the two FCL at attention outside the door. They would be replaced soon. Austin wondered if it was true that Tortorelli considered such duty punishment and assigned his least competent soldiers to the task.

Dale spoke quietly to the Governor’s secretary, who summoned the protocol officer. Austin watched as Dale sagged, collapsing into himself, this tiny duty accomplished. The emotional toll was beginning to make itself felt.

“Over here,” Austin said, pointing to an empty office down the hall from their father’s. “The two of us need to figure out what to do.”

“I know what I’m going to do,” Dale said. He went into the empty office, dropped into a chair, and leaned back. Dale closed his eyes, looking years older.

“What are you up to?” Austin asked. He heard more in his brother’s words than the need to come to grips with grief over Hanna’s death.

Dale lifted his hands and stared at them, then dropped them.

“I had her blood all over me,” he said. Dale looked up at his brother. “It wasn’t an accident, Austin. She was murdered. And I would have died, too, except I got lucky.”

“Don’t be paranoid,” Austin said. “Witnesses said the car was going too fast and the driver lost control.”

“He signaled. The waiter signaled someone that we were at the table; then he ran just before the car careened up onto the sidewalk. Some assassins use bullets. This one used a car.”

“It’s hard to think Hanna’s death was only fate,” Austin said. “I know that it’d be easier for you to believe there was a reason for it. It makes her life more important if she died for some purpose. But it was a hit-and-run. An accident, Dale, only an accident.”

“‘Only an accident,’” Dale said bitterly. “I know what I saw. Hanna was murdered, and I intend to find who was responsible.”

“What did Hanna talk about with Father?” Austin got the same stonewall response as before.

Dale’s jaw set, and he got to his feet.

“Don’t interfere, little brother. Don’t.”

Dale stalked from the office before Austin could stop him. Austin settled down in the vacant chair and thought hard. Unfortunately, the more he tried to analyze the problems facing his brother, his father, and Mirach, the less certain he was there was an answer to any of them.

AllWorldComm Laboratory

Mirach

16 April 3133

“I’m so pleased you could fit me into your undoubtedly hectic schedule, Ms. Kinsolving,” Jerome Parsons said, smiling benignly. “It must be difficult for you, managing such a huge communications conglomerate and then dealing with me.”

“I understand your morning was filled with parades and military demonstrations, Excellency,” Marta Kinsolving said carefully. Parsons fished for a response from her, and she wasn’t sure what he wanted or why. He had left his entourage behind to be entertained by the AWC office staff. She had told her assistant to ply the junior diplomats with as much food and drink as possible and had left any more subtle interrogation in the capable hands of Inger Ryumin. By the look of Parsons’ rotundity, he appreciated gourmet edibles. His staff would likely also be enticed by food, giving her a chance to speak in private with the Envoy.

“Would you care for something to eat? Drink?” she asked.

“Not at all,” Parsons said brusquely. “Your R and D facility is quite impressive, Ms. Kinsolving. I see that AWC is a leader in communications theory as well as cutting-edge technology.”

“Since the fall of the HPG, we’ve worked diligently to find profitable ventures,” Marta said cautiously. Something about Parsons made her edgy. Lord Governor Sandoval would not send a dull man, and Marta saw great depths to this one, in spite of the overfed, indolent persona Parsons worked so hard to present to the unwary.

“I appreciate that problem. Other worlds endure similar problems.”

“We’re putting relays on all four moons. Arit, Kalb, and Batn have small units, and the master remote will be on Kuton. This should allow us to cut costs dramatically and increase message traffic tenfold. As odd as it sounds, we used to beam messages through the HPG to other worlds and then relay them back. That proved cheaper and faster than building, orbiting, and maintaining our own commsats. It also kept Mirach-based personnel at a minimum.”

“Now you find that sending a simple signal from one side of the planet to the other is difficult.” Parsons nodded. “In light of the effects of your sun’s proton storms on commsats, relays on your world’s moons are an innovative solution.”