Schism of Blood and Stone (The Starfield Theory Book 1) (17 page)

“No,” she said firmly. “I didn't become a doctor so I could hurt people. I'd never hurt a living soul. I'm part of the Pedant faction. We research, we write and we talk. We convince people that we're right and we don't do it at gunpoint.”

Chris slumped down on a stack of books shaking his head in disbelief. “It doesn't matter. You're taking your life in your hands by doing this.” He took in all her books with a swipe of his hand. “This puts you in danger. And it puts us in danger because it's here. They could execute my whole crew if they found even a single page of this blasphemy on board.”

She snapped to her feet like an animal of prey. “It's no different than what you're doing. You're smuggling people, escaped prisoners of war, on a ship with an illegal jump drive that allows you to circumvent the Azuren and extend a war that by all rights should be over!”

Chris raised his eyes slowly, his brain searching for a flaw in her argument. “This is different.”

“How? Because my disobedience is spiritual and yours in practical? What does it matter in the end. You're no different than me.”

Chris stood and had a hand on the door lock. “Why did you come back then? You ignored me for five years and suddenly here you are. It's not to drag me into your Theorist stuff is it?”

“I wasn't ignoring you. I saw all your messages. I couldn't respond because if I did it would give away my location and make me and my team targets for the Azuren and their mercenary hunters.”

“That doesn't really answer my question.”

Claire took a deep breath and seemed to ponder her next words carefully. “You believe the goddess Amrah has a Path set for you? One that you walk when you follow her will and stray from when you don't.”

“I suppose.”

“When you started engaging in piracy and associating with scumbags like Lal and Drayton I had to do something. I saw you going down the wrong path. It's not your soul that's at stake, Chris, it's your humanity. I came here to help you.”

Chris shook his head. “I think it's me that needs to help you. You've got yourself into this...” he waved his hand around at her possessions. “...stuff and you don't know the danger you've put yourself in. I have to protect you, but I can't do that from the Azuren and not if you insist in risking your life for some synthpaper and ink.”

“I don't need your protection, Chris. I managed just fine on my own with the other Theorists,” she said in stoney indignation.

Silence descended on the room. He became very aware of the ship then. He felt the floor rumble slightly as the engines pushed the vessel through space. The pipes and ducts that ran through the ceiling creaked and popped. The light from Chris' tattoos danced around the small room in red and green light.

Claire looked away and bit her lip.

Chris' words went unspoken, but they echoed in his mind as he was sure they echoed in hers.

Then why don't you go back?

“Just get rid of this stuff, okay?”

“What's really bothering you, Chris? You didn't come in here to lecture me about books and Azuren religion.”

Chris took a deep breath.
This could be a bad road, but it's already on the table.

“You didn't come to mom and dad's funeral,” he said at last. “You didn't even write back to acknowledge the fact they died. You don't care about this family which is why you took off without a word. You were only looking out for yourself.”

“Chris, I didn't-” her face fell into shock even as he interrupted her.

“It makes me wonder why you really came back. What's here that is so valuable to you and your cult friends?”

“Nothing, I came back because you needed me!”

“I'm not convinced.”

“You're impossible,” she sneered at him, her normally pretty face cast in a mask of hate. “Get out.” She added coldly.

Chris left her quickly and hurried to the engine compartment to check on the drive status. In the back of his mind it didn't matter if the drive was ready now or a hundred years from now, his problem would only follow him as the sound of his sister's tears pursued him down the halls.

Archduchess Salena Teton-Sten

Duchess of Danvers, Archduchess of the Magdeborg Commonwealth

Sten Palace, Magdeborg, Magdeborg Commonwealth

______________

Archduchess Salena Teton-Sten. I rather like the sound of that,
Salena thought, smiling.

She also liked the way the Commonwealth's throne felt. Powerful.
The trait an Archduchess is supposed to espouse.

The Commonwealth throne room was rather sparse as throne rooms went. It was rectangular in design with vaunted ceilings and lined with ornate columns. In alcoves stood manikins dressed in full plate and mail armor though in formal occasions they were replaced by humans. Stone doors blended into the walls and led to chambers and passageways meant only for the royalty. Huge bulletproof and energy-diffusive windows wrapped around the upper layer of the throne room, allowing in Magdeborg's bright sun.

The ceiling was the intended centerpiece of the room. Painted by Antolio Berschi, an ancient renowned Commonwealth artist, spread out from the center of the ceiling like a ringed supernova. In the center ring, above the throne itself were painted the stylized winds which often represented Amrah's influence in all manner of art. Circling out from her in concentric circles were the ruins of the Precursor civilization, wrecked buildings, abandoned space stations and the remnants of a long dead race. In the next circle were the Azuren, represented by the Arkships, surrounded by the holy Akora passages. In the next circle was the human race with their castles, ships, weapons of war and of course, images of them praying in the direction of the inner rings. The final ring was somewhat of a mystery. It was black, dotted with red, yellow, orange, white and blue marks. Four spokes, one at each cardinal point, lead inward, uniting it with Amrah's center ring without piercing it.

In all its complexity, no two scholars were able to agree on its meaning. Something about uniting all the rings together, or perhaps the spokes implied Amrah encompassed all of them. Berschi was a recluse in his time and little information actually existed on him. Some even suggested he never actually existed. Berschi was an idea, a combination of the works of many individuals or some such nonsense. Salena tried not to think about the symbolism, even though it nagged at her mind and literally sat over her head.

The throne in which she took such comfort was as much a work of art as it was a practical device. In its surface was chiseled ornate images from the history of House Sten. It described the formation of the family one thousand years ago. The backrest of the chair was carved in the shape of the Sten crest, a sword laying across an open book. Salena found that, due to her height, the tip of the sword appeared to be extending out the top of her head as if she had been pierced by it. She would have to order it shortened.

Historically, Archdukes and Archduchesses rarely used the throne for anything more than formalities. Most used it to make statements ex cathedra for the population as she had done the day before announcing her ascension and the trickery of the Sørensens. This was also the room used for receiving – and intimidating – diplomats which she was sure would happen frequently in the coming days.

Magnus' invasion had been well planned and executed. The Sørensen command structure was in complete disarray and had obviously not been expecting an attack. Even when Salena's fleet emerged at the stargate, the Sørensens appeared unconcerned. It wasn't until the fleet ignored halt orders and demands for communication did the Sørensens jump into action. Lord Dietrich Sørensen had been trying to get his house in order, putting units in the field and begging allies for help. But none came. Most of House Sørensen had either been destroyed or surrendered except for a small force that fought Magnus to the death in the streets. The urban conflict unfortunately resulted in the loss of civilian life and property damage.
If they had simply surrendered, the civilian casualties could have been avoided
, Salena thought. In the end, it worked in her favor. The people would blame the Sørensens for the destruction.
Despite their weakness, the people could occasionally be used as a weapon, too, when properly tempered and sharpened.

After crushing the Sørensens in the field, House Teton troops stormed the capital, catching most Sørensen units off guard and were able to win the palace, space port, and other military installations without a major fight. It had lasted only a few hours, even shorter than she had anticipated. Despite its brevity and relative peacefulness, the order of power in the capital and across the Commonwealth would be severely shaken. Interested parties would emerge to scout out the new political landscape once they realize the shooting had died down. She would be ready.

There are still plenty of unknowns, including my dear uncle,
she thought with a deep frown
.
Conrad Sten and his House Guard situated high in the mountains outside of the city remained there during the fighting. They had observers watching the battle, but they made no moves to interfere. Conrad had managed his fief for decades, always in service to the Archduke.

Cassandra had been spot on. Conrad refused to come out of the mountains to fight beside the Sørensens. The Guard was a small unit of Sten and Sørensen blood relatives for the most part, but they were expertly trained and possessed excellent combat technology. Their involvement in the fighting would have resulted in more deaths, but Magnus would have overcome them in the end. What it meant now was that Conrad was a wild card and would need to be dealt with eventually.

Meanwhile, Magnus' troops were busy cleaning up the Sørensens who had fled into the countryside. They'd go to ground, likely exploiting caches left for just such an event. She had heard stories of the extensive Sørensen defenses as a child. She'd already installed curfew orders for the city, keeping civilians indoors and out of the streets would limit further casualties and helping authorities identify rogue Sørensen elements. But with Thaddeus Sørensen dead the Sørensens had little to offer in resistance in the city.

That damn fool,
she thought of her son and his duel with the Sørensen nobleman.
Thaddeus could have killed him. He's lucky to come away with just a scratch. More importantly, my only son, my heir, could have been taken from me before we ever reached the palace. Then what?

She pushed the thought from her mind. As much as Magnus was his own man, he was still her only son, her child. His loss would be far more than a political setback to her.

Is that how Peter felt when Arthur was taken from him? I know he and Damien talked about it, but they never shared their thoughts with me. Peter always seemed so strong like Arthur's death hurt him, but did not cripple him. No, that had happened to his wife. She killed herself in grief, but would I ever succumb to that? No. Never. No one is that important that I couldn't go on. Even if I am the only one that remains....

She gripped the arms of the throne for strength. She could almost feel the energies of the former dukes who ruled before her from this seat. They exercised power and kept the Commonwealth strong for a millennium and now it was her turn. They were now an extension of
her
power to bring the wayward
Sørensens to heel and also to handle Damien.

While Damien failed to act, I moved decisively to save the Commonwealth from itself. Although the coup was costly, the ends will justify the means,
she thought and relaxed her grip on the throne just slightly.

But would Damien actually follow her directive?
He thinks it a trap, but he could turn this into a great political opportunity for himself. Killing him would only serve his own purposes on the border and boost support for the remnants of his command. Not to mention the Dominion would overrun the border entirely without him leading the defense.

She knew Damien had gone after Kristoffer either to kill him or intimidate him to partake in his own plans. She had considered allowing him to achieve that goal for her, but that wouldn’t do. If she wanted a job done correctly she had to do it herself. Eliminating the twins before they became political rivals was key. She had already ordered their deaths to Filipov. With any luck they would already be dead by now. Two schoolchildren were no match for her assassins.

Damien, meanwhile, was bulletproof. For now.

The doors to the great Throne Room rumbled open on ancient rock gliders that had been worn down over the centuries. They squeaked irritably.
One more thing to fix.

Lord Dietrich
Sørensen was being led into the chamber by two armored knights. They were more like guides than actual guards, watching him carefully as he limped into the throne room.
He stood before, her favoring his damaged leg after having been relieved of his walking cane. It was a weapon in and of itself, but, knowing the Sørensens, he likely had other nasty surprises inside of it.

There would be no more surprises
, Salena vowed.

“My Lord Dietrich, welcome,” Salena greeted and spread her arms wide.

Dietrich took a breath and seemed to bite his tongue. “I thought for sure when your thugs came to my cell you were ready to have me executed. Looks like I was wrong, but there is still time left in the day, I suppose.”

“You haven't lost your candor in my prison.”

“I've had only time to hone it,” the old warrior snarled and coughed. It took him another moment to catch his breath.

“Do you know why I called you here today?” Salena asked him, annoyed at his tone. She leaned back in the throne and steepled her fingers.

“To gloat, I suspect. You pulled off a stunning military coup, murdered my kinsmen and installed yourself as Archduchess. Others have tried and failed with great bloodshed and, yet, here you are.”

“I am not a violent person, Lord Dietrich.”

“No, you have others to do your dirty work for you,” Dietrich grunted. “Your son murdered my brother.”

“Thaddeus challenged my son to a duel. Perhaps Thaddeus was not aware of his age or his capabilities. My son is a fully trained knight, many decades younger, stronger and ambitious. Thaddeus' life was in its twilight while my son's is just dawning. Maybe you thought I was a fool as well. That I would not see through your pitiful ploy to allow Peter to die and your own house to step into the vacuum. With Damien distracted by a war on the border, me safely eclipsed by House Teton, and Peter with no heir, the timing was just perfect to launch your coup. You almost had me believing that cute story about the child Stens.”

When Dietrich spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. Salena had to lean closer to hear him. “You are delusional, Salena. I had no ambitions for the throne and those children are Peter's rightful heirs.”

“Hardly. Their heritage does not matter. They will soon be out of the picture.”

“You're a killer, Salena. Nothing more. How long do you think it will be before Damien catches wind of your actions? He will storm Magdeborg and take it from you and give you a traitor's death.”

“My dear Damien? No, Damien will be very busy soon. Just after he returns to Magdeborg to declare his loyalty to me, he will face the Dominion attack we all know is coming. He cannot hold Goteborg or any world on the border and turn his attention to me. My brother's purpose is to defend the border and he has no place or role here.”

“They would prefer him to your tyranny.”

“Hmm, the Gray Knight, they call him. Just as old and washed up as you. There's a reason my father skipped Damien and selected Peter as his heir. Damien is half mad, a pyromaniac and a worshiper of false idols and dead gods. He will find no love of his Vagabond religion and backwards ways in the capital of the greatest human state.”

Salena smiled as Dietrich struggled for words. Like a ship that had failed to find the wind, he stood adrift in his emotions, his eyes empty and defeated. She felt a pang of sadness, inexplicably bubbling up inside of her. Dietrich and his brother, Thaddeus, had always been the cornerstones of his father's bodyguard and constant presences in the palace. She still remembered sitting on her father's lap as a child in this very throne as Dietrich would arrive to discuss some strategy. He would bring her a gift, usually some foreign sweets and comment on her beauty before turning to more serious matters. For a moment she wondered if she'd pushed too far mocking his dead brother. At some point she was simply terrorizing a tired old man.

But the Commonwealth required a strong hand, especially when it came to rebels and fifth columnists like Dietrich. She could show him no mercy.

Collecting herself, she continued. “Despite your failings, you can still do me some use. You can still recover your lost honor and save yourself whatever dignity might still exist in your head. The survivors of your house have gone to ground and started a guerrilla campaign against my son. Call them out and end this conflict before it costs more lives. In exchange, I will spare your life, and those of your kin. You will go into exile, either to the Averi schools, the Fringe or another great state. I don't care. Perform this last service to the Commonwealth, prove to me you still have some honor left in you.”

Dietrich face was wet, his tired eyes appeared red. He gave a tremendous sigh and Salena knew she had won. She settled back and waited.

“My lady Salena. I would never do anything to harm my own people, my home, my liege. I have loved your family and mine and I would never desire any harm to come to them. I hope, with all of my heart, that they destroy your palace, kill your wretched son, and drag you out of this place screaming before throwing you to face the blood lusting justice of your people. Now, your majesty, I would like to be returned to my cell. I have no more words for you.”