Crisis Of Empire - Crown Of Empire Part 21

But there weren't, only Cemians, and Nika was cut down before him like a paper doll in a shredder.

"But..." Wiley fell to his knees beside her and was jerked to his feet.

"Come with us," barked the Cernian. He pulled Wiley toward a waiting APC.

"Of course." Wiley wasn't hungry anymore.

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Chapter 7.

Chaney and Tira stood breathless, listening.

The guards were on the floor, bound and gagged- Chaney stared at Uncle Ken's body.

"I dont understand," he said. "Why? What did he want?"

Tira watched him. His puzzlement made her think: he really didn't understand. He'd thought

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his uncle was trustworthy. Loyal.

But to whom? Tira bit her lip reflectively She was beginning to trust Yon Chaney, maybe even to like him a bit

"We can't stay," she said gently. "Where do we go from here?"

"Not out the way we came in, thats certain," said Chaney. There are armed guards, and if that tunnel isn't mined, I'm a Lakme swamp-devil. We can't get out that way, even if we could get transportation."

"So what do we do, then?" Tira asked. "We can't wait here for them to find us."

"No, of course not." He looked around.

"Uncle Ken came from that direction. The chances are there aren't as many guards that way.

It's supposed to be protected on this side, so lets go that way. It's probably safer." He claimed an- other pistol, giving him a total of three.

He led lira to the far door.

They were lucky; no guards were posted in the back hallway at all.

As they walked through the corridors, it became clear that they'd left the working instal- lation and were now in a residence. An elaborate private residence, fitted with brocade drapes and tile floors. Along the walls were portraits of famous admirals of the past. One showed Secre- tary Bouriere and Admiral Sclerida reviewing a

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fine display of Naval acrobatic aircars and pur- suit boats.

"Where are we?" whispered lira.

'The official answer is 'Naval Logistics Head- quarters.' What it really is is Admiral Sclerida's private palace," Chaney answered. The corridor was still empty as he tried the nearest door, one with elaborate carvings over the lintel.

It gave onto an opulent suite of three rooms, each an astonishing realization of a fantasy. In the first there were more lush tropical plants than Chaney had seen outside of the Secretarial arboretum. Two streams wound through the large room, and brightly colored birds called from the dense foliage. There was a scent of jun- gle flowers so sweet it was cloying. In the center of this all was a bed draped in gauzy fabric and made up with silkeen sheets. One wall concealed a closet, empty but for plant food.

T don't like the feel of this," said Tira.

Chaney was silent. They moved on through the suite.

The second room was done up in rose-colored plush, containing three divans and two enor- mous ha.s.socks. Overhead, the ceiling was draped in cinnamon-colored damask so that it appeared to be a tent instead of a room. Bra.s.s trays leaned against the wall and the smell of

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sandalwood was everywhere, rising up in fra- grant smoke in braziers. A fountain perfumed the air with the scent of roses and jasmine. It hurt to breathe.

"No wonder there are aliens and humans who feel left out, who think they're taken advantage of. This place would convince them completely."

Chaney scowled at the extravagance. 'That fab- ric is off-planet hand-woven, and you won't get me to believe that the weavers are paid decently.

The staff here is probably mostly aliens who answer to a few human supervisors, just like at any rich human's house. And the aliens probably live in shacks or tiny apartments with five pieces of furniture and a cooker."

'It makes you angry," said Tira.

"It makes me furious. Governor Windsor is right. The Pact isn't going to work until all the races are equal and all the planets are repre- sented. If humans keep lording it over everyone else, the Pact will collapse and we'll be back to wars again." His eyes held an anger that sur- prised Tu-a.

"It's been this way for a long time. Yon," she said softly. "We're still here."

"Just barely. The Pact isn't thriving, its getting by. That isn't good enough. The aliens are going to get less and less as the humans want more and

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more. No alliance can survive that. We need equality. Only then can the Pact prosper and thrive." He stopped suddenly. "Sorry. I didn't plan to -"

Several floors above them an alarm shrilled.

"What do you think?" Tu-a whispered, moving closer to Chaney. "Is it us?"

He listened. "No. It has nothing to do with us.

That's a landing warning, I think. Something very large is coming in."

The third room was white-and-gilt, with stat- ues of frolicking cherubs. There was a plethora of mirrors, all in elaborate gilt frames. And there was a tremendous bed occupying most of the far end of the room, its canopy supported by twisted pillars and topped with a golden crown.

"Come on, let's get moving," Tira said nerv- ously.

"We've got to at least try to disguise you."

Chaney looked around the room again, some- thing unreadable in his eyes. Then he noticed a closet discreetly hidden behind a cavorting satyr.

He rummaged through the clothing there. *Try these." He handed her a pair of flamboyant red pants. She held them up against her body.

"Are you serious? I'll look like a flare!"

'Tut them on," ordered Chaney. "If they're looking at the pants, they won't see you.