was in the furnishings and the people staring out from the screen.
As he approached with Tycho, Wedge heard running feet approaching from
behind. He turned to look, alert against some new attack, but it was Hallis
who rounded the doorway and ran into the room; she skidded awkwardly to a
halt, looked around, and then moved off to stand before a column from which
she could record with the ordinary holocam she held in her hands.
"So you've brought the alien general," the perator said. There was
mockery to his tone. "Why bother? It doesn't take a famous pilot to pull the
trigger on me. Any of you could do it as well."
"That's not what we want to do." That was Tomer Darpen, standing among
the captors present. "We'd really prefer"
"I wasn't aware," Wedge said, "that you held a post with the united
Adumari forces involved in this operation."
Tomer blinked. "Well, that's not relevant. We have to"
"Be quiet, Tomer. Or I'll authorize Colonel Celchu to shoot you." Wedge
approached Cheriss. "What's the situation?"
Her expression was an interesting study, a mix of exultation and guilt.
"We hold the planning chambers and have compelled his senior officers to
surrenderand to signal surrender to the flightknives."
"That's done."
"But the perator won't surrender."
The perator, clad in spotless white as if to suggest he had never taken
an action to mar his reputation, moved forward, ignoring the blasters aimed at
him, until he stood before Wedge. "Not honorable," he explained. His voice was
weary but calm. "Surrender requires cooperation. I would rather die than
cooperate."
"So we kill him," said one of the Halbegardian elites, but others turned
to look at the flatscreens showing multiple images. It was evident to Wedge,
from the way those shown in the flatscreens were intensely watching, that the
images of the events taking place in this chamber were being broadcast to
them.
One of the figures in one of the smaller flatscreen squares, a gray-
haired woman with broad shoulders and an authoritarian bearing, spoke; her
voice emerged from the flatscreen speakers. "No. Pekaelic can only be
condemned by a council of his peers, and that is not the problem before us
now."
Wedge leaned over to whisper in Cheriss's ear. "What happens if Pekaelic
dies?"
"He has not named a successor. The council of nobles of Cartann would
choose his successor. Some of the nations held in Cartann's grip would
probably take the opportunity to break away. There would be much confusion..."
"I see." Wedge raised his voice. "Perato r, let's speak simply. No
diplomatic nonsense. If you persist in this posture and get yourself killed,
your enemies will celebrate, but Cartann and its holdings become disorganized
for a while. Long enough for the Empire to see that you're not going to be
joining them willingly. Long enough for the Empire to send a fleet large
enough to blow the Allegiance out of space and then pound your whole planet
flat. In a week, you'll all be slaves, or worse. And where's the honor in
that?"
"There is none," the perator said. "But I will still not surrender. I
have never surrendered. It is not within me."
Wedge sighed, exasperated. Then a new thought occurred to him. "Could you
retire?"
"What?"
"Retire. Without shame. Not surrender, not bow to your enemies. Just...
quit."
"Abdicate." The perator considered. "I could honorably grant the throne
to one of my sons. But my sons are pilots." His expression turned bleak.
"After today, I don't even know if they are still alive."
"I suggest you find out." Wedge took a step back to give the perator
space.
A minister was allowed to join the perator, then to go, with Halbegardian
guards, to one of the palace's comm centers.
"Royal heirs are always in danger," Cheriss told Wedge. "At least in
Cartann. They are usually raised away from their true parents, under assumed
names, to keep them safe."
Wedge grimaced. "So they can't even be children to their living parents.
Cheriss"
"Don't say it. I can see that it is bad."
He pulled out his comlink and activated it. "Red Leader to Eye Three.
Update, please." He turned the volume down and held it between his ear and his
cupped hand.
"Except for a couple of minor skirmishes, the air battle is done," Iella
said. "Cartann Blades are landing in fields all over the place under the
lasers of the united force. But, more important, the Cutting Lens-class sensor
ships showed one of the Star Destroyers, presumably Agonizer, leaving orbit.
It left behind a small vehicle, which I'm tentatively identifying from a
visual scan as a standard Imperial shuttle. It's descending toward Cartann
City."
Wedge felt a surge of triumph. "Have a couple of Blades escort it in, all
the way to the palace. I'm pretty sure it's a friendly."
"Will confirm and do so."
"Thanks. Red Leader out."
Minutes later, the minister returned and hurried to the perator's side.
The words he whispered to his ruler were good ones; the perator sagged for a
moment, in what was obviously relief, then straightened. He beckoned Wedge to
him, ignoring all others in the chamber.
"My sons survive," he said. "My oldest is being brought here now."
"Congratulations," Wedge said.
The perator gave him a close look. "Well done. I couldn't even detect the
mockery."
"I didn't offer you any, perator. I think you should be punished for what
you've done... but I'd never wish on anyone a punishment as severe as the loss
of his children."
"Ah." Though he did not step back, the perator retreated, his thoughts
and concerns suddenly light-years away.
Minutes later, a quartet of Halbegardian elites marched into the chamber,
a pilot in Cartann black between them. The pilot was a young man with an
earnest expression and thick black hair.
With a start, Wedge realized that he knew the young man. He was Balass ke
Rassa, a pilot who'd flown against Wedge in simulated combat.
Balass did not acknowledge Wedge or any of the others near the perator;
he marched up to his father and halted military style before him.
The perator looked upon him, searching his features. Wedge wondered how
long it had been since he'd seen his sonmonths? Years?
"You know why I've had you brought here," the perator said.
Balass nodded.
"Will you accept?"
"If honor allows." Balass turned to one of his guards. "But I cannot in
my present state. My pistol." He held out his hand and snapped his fingers,
imperious.
The guard looked around, confused, then his gaze fell on Wedge.
Wedge nodded.
The guard pulled a small Adumari blaster pistol from beneath his coat and
handed it to Balass. But the prince was not done; after he bolstered the
weapon, he said, "Blastsword."
Wedge nodded again. But when the guard reached for the weapon at his
side, Balass said, "And not one of your Halbegardian toys. A p
roper Cartann
blastsword."
Cheriss unbuckled the belt from her waist and put it around the prince.
It barely fit, on the last notch, but he did not object. Cheriss stood back
and away from him, her face solemn.
Balass turned again to his father. "Now I will accept."
The perator nodded. "I, Pekaelic ke Teldan, renounce my claim to the
throne of Cartann and all titles pertaining thereto, in favor of my eldest
son, Balass ke Teldan, known these last two-and-twenty years as Balass ke
Rassa."
His son waited a beat, then said, "I, Balass ke Teldan, accept these
rights and duties, and, though the circumstances be rushed and ceremony
entirely absent, proclaim myself perator of Cartann."
There was no applause; there were no cheers to mark the sudden transfer
of power from one set of shoulders to another.
Escalion, from the flatscreen, said, "I congratulate you on your poise,
Perator Balass. Now, can you do what your father could not? Can you end this
conflict by honorable surrender?"
Balass turned to the screen and shook his head. "No," he said. "We remain
at war."
Wedge heard startled exclamations from the people in the hall and from
both flatscreens. The Halbegardian guards in the chamber trained their weapons
on the new ruler. Balass seemed unaffected by all this; he just stared into
Escalion's flatscreen, or rather to the point at the top of the screen where
its flatcam was installed, and kept a slight smile, possibly a mocking one, on
his face.
"You understand," Escalion said, "you doom your nation to further
punishment if you persist in this arrogance."
"I was about to say the same thing to you," Balass said. "Only
substituting 'our world' for 'your nation.' Now be quiet a bit while I talk.
I'll try to make you understand."
Balass paced, talking as he did so, turning from time to time so that he
divided his attention between the dignitaries on the two flatscreens and those
standing before him. "You lot seem to have concentrated so hard on the
tactical situation before you that you have forgotten the strategic. Whether I
surrender or not, the Empire knows Adumar will not be allying itself with them
willingly. Indeed, I'm told that their giant ship has already left orbit...
not a good sign for us.
"If I surrender, the New Republic cannot bring in ships to aid us in the
conflict yet to come. Well, they can eventually. But they can bring in no more
ships except under flags of truce with us or flags of war against us. And we
cannot offer flags of truce as a united world until all ramifications of
Cartann's surrender are explored. Which of Cartann's protectorates will
splinter away and declare independence? Which will cling to Cartann and
transfer loyalty to the united Adumari force you represent? These questions
will take time to resolve."
Men and women, a few of them, were now nodding on the flatscreen that was
broken into multiple images.
Balass continued, "But if I do not surrenderif you, the united Adumari
coalition, accept at this moment my offer of truce without repercussion for
our recent battles then Cartann can join your union as an equal partner.
Now, instantly, with terms to follow when we have time for negotiations. I can
cast the votes of Cartann's protectorates, then free those nations when we
have the luxury of time. Lords and ladies, if you abandon your grudge against
Cartann, if you consider the old Cartann to have departed with my father's
abdication and a new one to stand before you, we can forge a world union, in
tentative form at least, in minutes. Or you can have your revenge and watch
our world fall.
"Now, it is time for you to decide." He turned to face the many-faceted
flatscreen, his hands on his hips, his expression imperious.
Wedge suppressed a whistle. If Balass pulled this off, he'd save his
nation any number of troublesyears or decades of reparation payments, the
perceived dishonor of wartime surrender, and much more. Wedge had seldom seen
a leader take such a hurdle within seconds of accepting his position.
The figures on the flatscreens began talking with one another, their
voices not broadcast over the speakers. One by one, the images of distant
courtrooms and planning chambers winked down to neutral gray.
"We're going to do it," Tomer said. "He has them by the power cables.
They have to accept. We're going to win."
"Yes, we are." Wedge smiled at him. It was easy to do so. All he had to
do was imagine the man's fate.
"I was delighted when I heard that you and your pilots had survived the
gauntlet, and then the rumors that you'd made it outside Cartann..."
"I imagine you were."
"And this raid!" Tomer gestured expansively. "More successful than you
imagined, I'll bet."
"No, it's right on the money so far. But give it time. I predict that it
will get even better."
Tomer's expression lost some of its glee, becoming more uncertain. "How
so?"
The two flatscreens flashed back into activity. As before, Escalion of
Yedagon dominated one of them, and it was he who spoke. "Perator Balass, much
as we think Cartann should shoulder the major share of loss for the brief war
we have suffered, you are correct. Everyone's circumstances have changed, and
no one has time for even the most honorable prosecution. We offer Cartann a
seat, a full vote, a full voice in what we now call the Adumari Union."
"I accept." Balass bowed to Escalion, then turned and bowed to the
viewers on the other flatscreen. "Who will speak for us to the New Republic?"
"
Wedge cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. I can't. Your elected speaker will
be talking with me. I still have my duties as ambassador of the New Republic."
"Then we will choose from among ourselves," Escalion said.
As the perators and their advisors from around Adumar began a spirited
and, Wedge hoped, brief-discussion, Wedge turned to Tomer. "Tycho?"
Wedge drew his blaster, put its point up under Tomer's chin. Tycho drew
in the same moment, putting his barrel to Tomer's left eye; the diplomat had
to close his eye to keep it from being hurt.
"What is this?" Tomer asked. His tone was calm, even unconcerned. Wedge
was impressed with his poise.
"It's time for you to call Allegiance and tell them to acknowledge and
accept transmissions from all New Republic personnel and citizens on the
ground," Wedge said.
"I don't know what you mean."
"And if you don't do it, we're going to hand you over to these
Halbegardian guards. They'll conduct you back to Halbegardia or the Yedagon
Confederacy. They'll put you on trial as a war criminal based on what I have
to tell them about your interaction with Pekaelic. I doubt you can expect much
mercy at their hands. On the other hand, comply and I'll turn you over to the
New Republic for prosecution. Assuming neither Tycho nor I has a spasm and
blows your head off."
Tomer heaved a sigh. "I admit nothing," he said. But
he drew out a
comlink. "Tomer Darpen to Allegiance, come in."
There was no answer. Tomer shrugged, an "I told you so" expression.
Wedge smiled at him. "Repeat after me. 'En-Are-Eye-One to Allegiance.
Over.' "
Tomer looked at him, expressionless, his one open eye flickering as if
reading through a list of hints to find the one that would get him out of this
situation. Finally he said, "En-Are-Eye-One to Allegiance. Over."
"Allegiance to En-Are-Eye-One, we read you."
Wedge just stared.
"I rescind the order concerning communications from the ground. You are
authorized to respond to transmissions from Adumar."
"Rescind the comm blackout as well," Wedge said.
Tomer sighed. "Likewise, I rescind Allegiance's hypercomm restrictions."
He covered the microphone with his hand. "Is that all? Or should I have them
send down a meal?"
"That's all."
Tomer removed his hand. "Acknowledge, please."
The distant comm officer said, "Allegiance acknowledges. Captain Salaban
would like to talk to you."
Wedge took the comlink from Tomer's hand and gave it to Tycho. "Colonel
Celchu, do me a favor and arrange for this prisoner to be transported to
Allegiance. Inform the Allegiance of our situation and have Salaban stand by
to communicate by hypercomm with the Fleet Command and General Cracken. Then
give those two parties a quick report."
"Will do. What are you up to?"
"I'm going for a walk." Wedge gestured all around. "I'm sick of this
place." He gave Tomer one last look. "You should have taken your chances with
Adumari justice."
Tomer just stared, impassive.
On the palace steps, Wedge found Admiral Rogriss being escorted between
two Halbegardian guards. Sniper fire from the near balconies was all but over.
Wedge dismissed the guards and gave the older man a salute. "Admiral.
Good to see you. How are you?"
Rogriss gave him a slow shake of the head. "How can anyone be when his
career has just been vaporized?"
"Meaning that Agonizer has left system without sending its holocomm
message."
Rogriss nodded. "The holocomm is shut down and sealed tight. It can only
be opened by my voice... or by the security codes of a superior officer. Which
it won't reach for another three days or so."
"Will that matter? I mean, Imperial Intelligence could have a team on-
planet, with its own holocomm unit..."