Hidden Empire (62 page)
T
he view from the crystal balconies of the Prism Palace was spectacular. Prime Designate Jora’h took Nira up to an observation
ledge beside the rushing gurgle of upward-flowing streams. He left his bodyguards inside so that he and the lovely Theron
woman could have a few moments to themselves.
“This is one of my favorite places,” he said.
Nira took a few moments to catch her breath. “It’s … beautiful.” Jora’h reached out to touch her arm, then held her hand.
She let his grip linger there.
Atop its commanding hill, the Prism Palace overlooked the far-flung skyline of Mijistra. Sinuous glasslike structures crept
toward the horizon, like ripples on a pond. The tall Palace towers rose high, surrounded by spherical domes of the governmental
ministries. The viewing ledge thrust out at an angle with the support stalks bent inward so that as Nira stood on the transparent
shelf with no obvious support beneath her feet, she seemed to be floating off into space with Jora’h at her side.
Rising steps of land on the citadel hill led up to hemispherical platforms and domes that supported the Palace. Seven major
streams, all of them cut into perfectly straight channels, converged to a single central point.
The Prime Designate said, “The original designers of the Prism Palace wanted to show that all things, even the laws of nature,
flow toward the all-seeing and all-powerful Mage-Imperator.” Jora’h lowered his voice and smiled warmly at her. “Unfortunately,
I defy that concept—for all of my thoughts flow toward
you
, Nira.”
Laughing with embarrassment, she squeezed his hand. At the archway behind them, the ferocious-looking bodyguards seemed completely
unconcerned by their behavior. “Being so high … the sight takes my breath away. It reminds me of Theroc, when I would climb
to the tops of the worldtrees.”
“Reynald described your world to me, and it sounds beautiful.” Jora’h’s smoky eyes glittered as he painted the pictures in
his mind. “I will visit Theroc one day. Perhaps with you.”
“And along with an entire cadre of attenders and bodyguards and assistants,” she said with a smile. “It would be hard to have
any peace around you, once we left Mijistra.”
“Ildirans don’t like to be alone.”
The two stood close together, though the viewing ledge offered plenty of room. Nira was very conscious of the Prime Designate’s
presence, and she did not want to move away.
She watched the small forms of people far below. An endless stream of Ildirans ascended tier after tier of the citadel hill
that supported the Prism Palace.
“Pilgrims,” Jora’h said, seeing her interest, “wishing to gaze upon the glory of the Mage-Imperator.”
Groups from various kiths climbed steadily, stopping at prescribed points along the road. They crossed bridges and circled
the hill, washing themselves ritually in the seven streams as they ascended toward the entry dome. “All citizens of the empire
have access to the Palace. My father keeps his audience gallery open to visitors. Anyone who makes the pilgrimage can observe
his glorious face projected under the sky-sphere.”
“Is he ever worried about assassination attempts, or violence?”
Jora’h looked at her, surprised. “Through the
thism
, the Mage-Imperator can know precisely if anyone harbors such thoughts. My father could deal with the problem long before
any would-be assassin entered the Prism Palace. We Ildirans are different from you, Nira. You must understand that.”
They stood on the high vantage in silence, side by side, watching the groups of pilgrims marching reverently toward their
goal. Finally, Nira said, “We are not so very different.” She intentionally snuggled closer to him. “In fact, Jora’h, you
and I could be compatible … in many ways.”
Back in the Prime Designate’s private chambers, Nira wondered if the charismatic man had used any hint of telepathic powers
to seduce her. But she was aware of the power of outside thoughts because of her communications with the worldtrees. And at
this moment Nira felt as though she was doing nothing against her will… nothing that wasn’t absolutely
right
. This was her first time, but she was not afraid.
Her skin drank in the warm light in the room all around her, and she felt energized by his every touch. Even as she held the
Prime Designate, she hungered for him, and Jora’h responded in kind. Slowly and with fascination, they removed each other’s
clothes, one item at a time.
“I find you so incredibly interesting and intriguing, Nira,” he whispered, his breath warm in her ear.
She felt precisely the same way about him.
Nira had been afraid he might be aloof or jaded after having had so many mates, but as she made love to him, Nira felt that
she held the Prime Designate’s absolute attention and devotion.
I
t was an old trick the Adar had learned from studying human military strategy games. He led two cohorts of warships to the
outskirts of the Qronha double-star system, which held two of the seven suns in the skies of Ildira.
The Qronha system had a sparse population, a pair of habitable but insignificant planets. Its main importance derived from
a very old ekti-harvesting city that floated in the clouds of the system’s gas giant, one of the few remaining skymines still
run by Ildirans, rather than human Roamers.
To Adar Kori’nh, this seemed a good place to engage in instructive space military maneuvers.
He divided the two cohorts into opposing teams and ordered hundreds of ships to become artificial antagonists. Following the
human tradition, Kori’nh designated the two groups “red team” and “blue team.” Earth strategists had developed this process
during centuries of combat simulations, and the Adar thought the exercise would be interesting. More than just a game.
Tal Aro’nh, an old-school professional, led the blue cohort. The Tal adequately performed all his assigned duties and exercises.
But even so, he concerned Kori’nh the most. Innovation seemed a foreign concept to the old commander, who complained most
bitterly about “wasting time” on unorthodox exercises.
Tal Lorie’nh commanded the red team. The Adar did not consider him a better commander, but Lorie’nh had the good sense to
do as little as possible, allowing his Quls, the maniple subcommanders, to perform their duties. And since Tal Lorie’nh chose
talented underlings, in the final summary the cohort leader usually looked very good.
Kori’nh sat in the command nucleus of a small observation platform, where he could watch the engagement of his two opposing
teams. He activated the short-range transchannel and spoke to the two Tals. “Aro’nh, Lorie’nh—you may commence the engagement.”
Tal Lorie’nh acknowledged brusquely, while Aro’nh transmitted a final stiff-sounding objection. “Adar, I must again ask you
to cease this divisive activity. The Solar Navy is a single unit, operating together to complete the missions that the Mage-Imperator
gives us. Never has maniple fought against maniple, except in the terrible civil war long ago. These exercises can only disrupt
military discipline and lead to confusion, make our soldier kithmen feel as if members of their own race are the enemy—”
Kori’nh had no sympathy for the rigid old commander. “Tal Aro’nh, I find it more divisive to hear you publicly challenging
my orders. I am your Adar, blessed by the Mage-Imperator. Do as I say, or stand relieved of command.”
“Yes, Adar,” the Tal said, and switched off the channel.
Kori’nh sat back to observe the ship movements. The two cohort commanders had not been allowed to discuss their respective
strategy choices. The objective of the exercise was to have one team capture and occupy a misshapen lump of asteroid, a minor
planet that orbited at an extreme angle around the two Qronha suns.
Not surprisingly, Tal Aro’nh flew all the vessels of his cohort in perfect standard formation, a sphere-within-sphere arrangement
familiar to all observers of Ildiran sky parades and military pageants. Warliners surrounded the outer perimeter, with escorts
and cutters in layers within the circle. Aro’nh moved his ships en masse along a straight line toward the objective asteroid.
A flurry of sentry ships patrolled around the sphere-within-sphere configuration, orbiting in tight rings as they circled
the main warliners. It was meant to be a defensive posture, but as the bands of fast streamers orbited in opposing directions,
it created a spectacular visual image—designed to evoke cheers from distant audiences, not to demonstrate military proficiency.
Tal Lorie’nh directed his red team in a more chaotic configuration. The seven maniples of his cohort separated into individual
groups of forty-nine ships, each maniple rushing forward in allied but discrete swarms. To the critical eye, red team’s approach
had less finesse and no artistry. Then the seven individual maniples, each containing seven septas of warliners, broke apart
and advanced pell-mell toward the objective.
One by one, six of Lorie’nh’s seven maniples careened into blue team’s complex sphere-within-sphere grouping, sending a ripple
of chaos through Tal Aro’nh’s carefully choreographed vessels. The cumbersome configuration began to disintegrate, but at
the old Tal’s barked orders, the captains of each ship in blue team returned to formation. The giant spherical configuration
pressed inexorably toward the target, disregarding any threat that red team might make.
However, while six of the red team maniples were harrying the cumbersome but beautiful group of blue team ships, Lorie’nh’s
seventh maniple accelerated rapidly toward the asteroid. They allowed themselves no diversion, surrendering all other considerations.
It was a simple enough tactic, and obvious in hindsight. By the time Aro’nh’s lumbering spherical configuration reordered
itself and began to unfold its vessels, splitting open the outer shell of warliners to dispatch the central rank of landing
craft, red team’s rogue maniple had already arrived at the asteroid. They dropped a rapid deployment of all cutters, releasing
occupation forces of spacesuited Ildiran ground troops who planted their cohort’s emblem and activated their victory beacon.
The other six maniples of red team stopped harrying the opponent and retreated to surround the asteroid, preventing Aro’nh’s
cohort from even approaching the objective. It was a total rout.
Before blue team managed to launch a single troop transport, Adar Kori’nh signaled the two military commanders and declared
the exercise over, granting a complete victory to red team.
Tal Aro’nh looked particularly old, virtually fossilized, as he appeared before Adar Kori’nh in the command nucleus of the
observation platform. He stood ramrod straight, his Solar Navy uniform impeccable, insignia and medals neatly arranged on
his chest.
He had lost. Utterly.
Aro’nh’s career had been a model of traditional service in the Solar Navy. Adar Kori’nh no longer considered that good enough.
The old Tal waited in silence, but indignation was clear on his stony face. The maniple subcommanders of the opposing teams
waited in outer chambers. Kori’nh looked at the two Tals standing before him and let the silence hang for a moment, his face
reflecting disappointment in both of them. “Well, gentlemen? Your assessment of the exercise?” he finally said.
Tal Lorie’nh, as usual, waited for someone else to speak. Aro’nh, however, lifted his chin and sniffed. “Adar, I must object
to the tactics used by red team. No military guidebook of the Solar Navy recommends such procedures. Nowhere in the
Saga of Seven Suns
is there any mention of a commander who used such tactics. Never before! I find Tal Lorie’nh’s blatant embrace of… of
chaos
to be beneath contempt. We are cohort commanders in the Ildiran Solar Navy. Our soldiers are not disordered herd animals
to be provoked into a stampede.”
Making no comment, Kori’nh let the man’s complaints run out of steam, before he said in a quiet but devastating voice, “And
yet red team managed to defeat you.”
“An invalid victory, Adar—”
Kori’nh slammed a fist on the table and stood up, his eyes blazing. “There are no invalid victories!” His tone of voice shocked
both Tals. “Why do you insist that the Solar Navy use old, predictable techniques for
all
circumstances? What if we encounter an enemy that has no comprehension of our rules, and even less respect for them? What
then?”
“This is not our way, Adar.” Aro’nh glowered. “Ildirans have a tradition of honor. If you allow this uncivilized madness to
continue, you invite the downfall of all that has made the Solar Navy proud and invincible.”
Angered at his inability to penetrate this old commander’s petrified imagination, Kori’nh said, “The Ildiran Empire will not
remain invincible if we insist on being inflexible. Enemies exist, though we have been blind to them before.”
He looked at the conservative Tal and felt a stirring of pity. Aro’nh had never dreamed he would be called upon to do anything
that required innovation. He was proud. He had followed all the rules and did not know what to do without the safety net of
routine and tradition to catch him.
