Crisis Of Empire - Crown Of Empire Part 36

"Your step-mother, of course, and possibly your brother. It could be that -"

"And me. You mustn't forget me." She shoved her hands into the pockets other work smock. "I haven't forgotten me."

As they talked the holographic display contin- ued to cycle through. It showed two Navy gunboats under heavy attack from a dozen Pro- tectorate skirmishers and a brace of mobile observation platforms. The Navy was being taken in tow by the Protectorate. This gave way to a Marine engineering station where a flotilla of three dreadnoughts with actual ocean-going service ships for support were supervising the change of command from Marine to Protector- ate.

"Attention. Priority announcement incoming.

Imperial recognition code required," announced the console.

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'Imperial recognition code?" Chaney asked.

Tira hesitated, then placed her hand on the genescan plate,

"Word has just reached Protectorate Central Control," said the machine voice, "that Governor Windsor of Harmony Cl.u.s.ter is dead. Repeat;

Governor Windsor is dead. We will report as more information is confirmed."

"Governor Windsor is dead," whispered Tira, for the first time beginning to smile with pleas- ure. "Oh, dear."

"Oh, dear?" Chaney echoed.

"It isn't correct to be pleased by the misfor- tunes of others, of course, but with Governor Windsor out of the picture, the succession has to go to my brother. I wouldn't mind if it were Jessine. The thing is, it wouldn't be me." She pressed her hands together.

Chaney lost happiness even as she gained it.

"Really? It's possible, I suppose." He looked at her. "But They didn't say anything about Anson Merikur. If he is still bringing his forces here to cany out Governor Windsor's policies, what could happen? Either we would have to ratify full and equal status for all members of intelli- gent species or Windsor's break-away planets continue to sow dissension through the Pact."

He scowled.

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Chelsea Quinn Yarhro

"I thought you agreed with Governor Wind- sor," said Tira uncertainly.

"I do-1 don't think the Pact has a prayer with- out granting equality to all intelligent species everywhere. But I think that the Pact needs time to be persuaded to agree. Give immediate rights across the board and there could be a back-lash before the new status quo gets into place; in five years there could be ... I don't know, guerrillas in the streets, worse turmoil than there is even now."

"That could be difficult," she said, sounding remarkably composed. "But if there was a mar- riage - finish the rest of it." She swung around and put the console displays on hold. "You think they might reach an agreement with Merikur by arranging a marriage for Jessine or me. That's it, isn't it?"

"I hope it won't happen," he said, revealing much more of his true feelings than he had intended.

"So do I," she said. "Because I won't agree to it. No!" she went on sharply when he made a half-hearted effort to protest. "No. You don't know what it's like, to be told all your life that all you're good for is adding a little oomph to the signatures on doc.u.ments, that you have to be prepared to be auctioned off to the planet group

186.

with the best trade agreements. Well, I do. And I wiH have no part of it. I am not going to turn into a martyr like my mother, or a manipulator like Jessine, or a n.o.body flumfluxis like Cousin Helga."

In the last few seconds, the room where they stood seemed to have shrunk. Chaney stared at her, feeling as if he had dived too deeply and running out of air. He forced himself to speak.

He could not bring himself to touch her. "What will you do?"

"Whatever I do, ifs my business, my business only." She made it very easy for him to kiss her.

The front rooms are terrible," she said a short time later, breathing a little unsteadily herself, "but let me show you the guest room."

"Come," Tu-a said, leading him by the hand into the guest bedroom beside the entrance cor- ridor. She locked doors between them and the hving room, then turned to Chaney.

"But... Helga?" he said. He couldn't believe this was happening.

"She'll sleep, I think," Tu-a said. "Anyway, I left the console on in the living room. I dont think it will distract us."

She began to open the fastenings of her cloth- ing.

"No," he said as he watched her. "Not at all."

187.

Chapter 15.

As Wiley continued, he found himself growing faint. He'd completely lost track of time, but he knew he was exhausted and hungiy. And still feel- ing the effects of the last party. He found it harder to focus on the direction and speed of the aircar.

"Home," he muttered. "Home is where the...

is where the food is..."

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He spotted what he thought must be the Pal- ace landing pad and aimed for it. As he brought the car into a descent, the world unfocused. His head dropped forward.

When he awoke several seconds later, the air- car had crashed to the ground. He turned his head, suddenly too tired to lift it.

He saw a knee by his face, and then he felt the cold barrel of a light-weight pistol pressed at the base of his skull. He remained veiy still. "Do you mind?" he said tentatively. "That thing's cold."

"My stars!" gasped a voice. "It's LordWiley!"

"Milord," said the man kneeling beside him, and withdrew the Meinhauser. "We thought you were dead."

Wiley finally focused on the man's uniform:

Secretarial Guard. Wonder of wonders.

"So did I," he said, and started to struggle to his feet.

"Wiley Bouriere," said the corporal in charge of the squad. Awe touched her voice. "We were told all your family were -"

"Dead?" said Wiley and saw the corporal wince.

"It was what we were told," she said. "It was in all the reports."

"Well, they lied," said Wiley. He finally pushed

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Chelsea Quinn Yarbro