OF DUTY AND DEATH

by C. J. Merle

PROLOGUE

From the window of his sitting room, Sert watched Con'j'ti walk across the wide stone courtyard from the Citadel of the Hsassan to the Tower of Yseret. Sert had taken these rooms on the top floor of the Yseret's Tower when Zsar't'lac, the Hsassan Qtesark, had been born. In those early centuries, he had watched over the genetic messiah from these same windows. Now he watched the comings and goings of the Hsassan, the genetically engineered warriors of the Norda Homelands, and the Yseret, the scientists who ruled the Homelands. Sert was one of them, but not really. The oldest of all Norda, he cared little for his genetic class. He was part of Conli's conspiracy to overthrow the Yseret, who had, in hisopinion, outlived their usefulness.

Sert seldom saw any Yseret in the courtyard between the two buildings; rather it was the Hsassan who traveled back and forth, answering summons from the Yseret, who rarely left their tower. It pleased Sert that a female would overthrow his genetic class. Conli was Zsar't'lac's bearer. That was all the Yseret thought females were good for: breeding and providing sexual release. It would be good to see their faces when Conli sat in judgement of them.

How long had Zsar'tlac had been gone? Three years? It seemed longer. In human years, it was. By their counting it wouldbe…four years? So odd to think of the Hsassan Qtesark living among the humans, in the lands called the Klimar Empire. How could Zsar't'lac live surrounded by cold, dead metal? Sert reminded himself that Zsar't'lac was strong. He wouldn't be easily poisoned by the humans' metal. Still, how horrible it must be to live in a metal ship, with nothing living about it.

Sert turned away from the window to look around his room, decorated more like a Hsassan's living quarters than a Yseret's. Bright colored cushions scattered across a dark wood floor; the walls painted with bioluminescent living organisms. Sert had chosen a crystalline form. During the day, with the light from the window streaming in, the crystals shimmered in constantly changing rainbow hues. At night, the soft glow of the bioluminescence provided even lighting and continued the soft rainbow effect.

Sert ran his hand gently down the wall by the window. The crystals vibrated their pleasure at his touch. The tone was in the upper frequency scales; no human could have heard it, but Sert smiled. Life should live surrounded by life, not metal.

As Sert turned back to the window, he saw Con'j'ti enter the Tower of the Yseret. He was, no doubt, meeting with L'Tang. That had been happening too much lately; Sert didn't like it. He had a feeling they were plotting something against Zsar't'lac. Sert's thin lips drew back, displaying his long atavistic hunting teeth. Had L'Tang and Con'j'ti learned nothing from their past attempts to kill Zsar't'lac? Or did they believe that living in the human lands had made the Qtesark soft and careless, easy prey for their plans?

 

Con'j'ti scratched a claw on the hard plastic door, then entered the small, white-washed room. L'Tang was waiting for him, seated on a wide, soft, elegantly embroidered cushion, his long robes tucked carefully around his slippered feet. Additional embroidered cushions scattered around the room provided the only color. Everything else -- the walls, floor, the single, low table -- was white. The Yserets, the scientist rulers of the Norda Homelands, found strong colors distracting.

Con'j'ti deliberately remained standing. He liked towering over the one who, more than any other, ruled the Norda Homelands.

"You believe that Pyet'ti is ready to go to the Human Lands?" L'Tang asked. His tone, as always, was disdainfully superior.

"Yes" Con'j'ti folded his massively muscled arms across his thick chest. "He is as trained as he ever will be. It is time for him to go to the Human Lands and kill the Qtesark."

L'Tang shifted a little on the soft cushion. "Once Zsar't'lac is dead, we will invade the Human Lands."

"And destroy them."

"Not entirely. Some will be kept alive to work in the manufacturing facilities. And as breeding stock. It will be interesting to see what we can make of the species with proper controlled breeding."

"We should kill them all. They are not worth keeping alive."

L'Tang smiled. It was a minimal gesture, the usual blunted teeth of the Yseret barely showing. "I believe that you hate Zsar't'lac and the humans even more than I do."

"The humans are not worth hating; they are nothing," Con'j'ti retorted flatly. "I will destroy the humans because Zsar't'lac would protect them."

"How interesting. You desire an end to the humans because Zsar't'lac cares for them, yet you love the one he loves, the so-beautiful Sing'm'li, who does not love you."

There was a sudden still silence in the small room. No Hsassan, other than Sing'm'li himself, would ever so taunt the one who referred to himself as the "Dominant Hsassan." If any were so foolish, a price would be paid in blood. Sert, however, enjoyed taunting Con'j'ti on this subject; it was the only weakness he had found in the large, extremely capable warrior.

Dark red, the colors of anger, flared in Con'j'ti's eyes. For now that anger was contained. The time would come, however, when his fury would be unleashed and then L'Tang would pay for every taunt. When Conli's revolution occurred... First though, Zsar't'lac, Conli's only descendent, had to die.

"All Hsassan love Sing'm'li," Con'j'ti commented mildly, controlling his anger. "He is the favorite of all of us."

"So I have been told, Hsassan. Too often. Now be seated! I dislike your standing over me so."

Con'j'ti waited a long moment before slowly and gracefully lowering himself to sit on the cold, bare floor, disdaining the soft cushions.

"Be careful, Hsassan," L'Tang hissed. "You, I can destroy."

Con'j'ti made no reply, his eyes flaring a deeper shade of red, fully the color of killing. After a moment, his gaze turned down towards the floor and the inner, nictitating membranes snapped down, shielding the darker red in his eyes.

"Do you wish to discuss our plan to destroy the betrayer?" he asked softly. "Or do you wish to continue this pointless conversation?" The time would come, Con'j'ti reminded himself, when he would hold L'Tang's life truly in his hands. "Pyet'ti is ready," he repeated.

"So you have said," L'Tang replied irritably. He shifted on the large soft cushion. "I wish we could have persuaded an alpha Hsassan or even a beta..."

"It was difficult enough to persuade any Hsassan to agree to this. The Hsassan still believe that Zsar't'lac is the genetic messiah. They do not understand Zsar't'lac's foolish affection for the humans, but they still believe he is Qtesark. We have little choice, and even though Pyet'ti is a breeding cull, he has extremely fast reflexes."

"His intelligence is rated quite low," L'Tang pointed out.

"If Pyet'ti had high intelligence, I doubt he would be willing to do this," Con'j'ti's returned dryly. "But he scores well in the hunt. And that is more important. We are, after all, sending him on a hunt."

"I am aware of what we are doing, Hsassan. The plan is mine."

Con'j'ti made no reply. The idea of an assassination was L'Tang's; a Yseret would think in such terms. But it was Con'j'ti who had worked out all the details. As usual, the Yseret came up with a concept and left all the work of implementation the idea to a Hsassan.

"We do not send you, my so-called 'Dominant Hsassan'," L'Tang continued, his voice silken in its denigration, "because we both know you would fail. As you failed in the J'tekc fight against Zsar't'lac and as you continue to fail to win Sing'm'li's love."

A shudder of harshly contained fury ran through Con'j'ti's large body. Slow, sweet, and creative, will I make your death.

"There can be no failure here," L'Tang stated firmly. "Once we have Zsar't'lac's body, we will extract the genetic material and begin a new series of breeding experiments to produce a more submissive Qtesark."

Con'j'ti agreed with that: killing Zsar't'lac was the most important step. After Zsar't'lac was dead, Sing'm'li would turn to the one Hsassan he now chose most often for pleasure. Con'j'ti's anger at L'Tang left him as he thought of the night of mating that would soon come after Zsar't'lac's death. Mating was the genetic lease the Yseret had bred into the Hsassan. Genes had been incorporated into the genome of the Hsassan that forced them, when they reached a certain age, to mate with each other. For one long night, the blood lust was given full rein with another Hsassan. After such a blood ritual, the two Hsassan were bound together for all their immortal lives.

A slight trembling shook Con'j'ti's heavily muscled body. He and Sing'm'li -- and Zsar't'lac, for that matter -- were fully of an age to be mated. Hsassan who did not mate, died horrible deaths. The mating need burned in Con'j'ti, a blood lust that only one Hsassan could slate.

Con'j'ti turned his mind from thoughts of mating, thinking of how pleasant it would be to destroy the Yseret. Then he and Sing'm'li would rule the Homelands--the Homelands and any human worlds kept alive to be slave breeding colonies. Yes, Sert were right. Some humans should be kept alive as slaves. Con'j'ti would enjoy tormenting them.

 

CHAPTER 1

Eivaunee Dorlan tossed restlessly on his silk-sheeted bed. It had been a long day, but sleep eluded him. The Emperor demanded a raise in taxes for the Provinces. Again. How the hell could it be managed?

It would be; it had to be. At the cost of repairs and improvements that the Provinces sorely needed. The one full-size starship dock in all of the Provinces had to have some repairs done -- there wasn't any option there. The regional governments simply wouldn't get the credits they requested -- credits they needed. They would have to manage with less. Again…still.

God, how he hated the Emperor! How he wanted to kill him! Eivaunee tried not to think about his parents' deaths. About how the Emperor had driven his mother to suicide with a brutal rape, and how Hazdel had blown up the ship Eivaunee's father commanded. He tried not think of all the murders Hazdel had forced him to commit in the name of Imperial justice. Hazdel wanted to push Eivaunee to rebellion. Only then could the Emperor gain control of the vast Dorlan Estates; treason was the only grounds for Estates to be forfeit.

Eivaunee wanted to commit treason; he wanted to overthrow the brutal, half-crazy Emperor. All he needed was a plan with a reasonable possibility for success. But there wasn't any. The Imperial Palace was surrounded by force fields designed by a genius two generations ago. No one had ever figured a way around, past, or through those force fields, and it wasn't for any lack of trying.

Eivaunee rolled out of his comfortable bed and walked into his opulent sitting room. It was furnished primarily with antiques from the Dorlan Home Estate. Walking across the floor to a small dispensing machine set in one wall, he entered a short code and the machine dispensed a narc stick. Eivaunee coded for another one, then walked over to the small bar set in a far wall and poured himself a stiff shot of bourbon. He sat down on the damask-covered overstuffed sofa and inhaled on the narc stick, lighting it and drawing the sweet fumes deep into his lungs.

Eivaunee wondered if the Emperor was hoping to bankrupt the Dorlan Estates. It wouldn't happen. Eivaunee contributed to the upkeep of the Comveckt, the flagship he commanded, and paid some additional credits when needed to cover some planets' creditary shortfalls. But like his father, who had been the Commissioner of the Provinces before him, he wouldn't bankrupt the Dorlan Estates to please the Emperor. So far the Provinces had always paid the taxes the Emperor demanded, with a little help from Eivaunee and Dorlan Enterprises. This year would be no different -- just a little harder.

Eivaunee took a long sip of the whiskey, feeling his body begin relaxing. The door sounded.

"Identify," he responded.

"Con Noate," came the answer.

"Identification confirmed," the computer security system agreed.

Eivaunee considered the matter. He could refuse to let his Third-in-Command enter. If there was a major problem, Con Noate wouldn't have wasted the time coming to his quarters; he would have contacted Eivaunee through the ship's communication system. Con Noate didn't like seeing his Commander like this. Also, why was Con Noate visiting so late?

A good guess as to the answer to that last question made Eivaunee decided to let Con Noate enter. Better Con Noate than the alternative. "Enter," Eivaunee released the door.

Tall, lean, and with more than a little gray at his temples, Con Noate walked into the wide, opulent room. He had been Eivaunee's Second-in-Command for three years, since the Comveckt had first been commissioned. Been Second until Zsar't'lac, a defecting alien warrior, had joined the ship's staff and demanded the position. Demand was a strong word, but not inaccurate. The alien had called it a barter. On old Earth they would have called it an offer that couldn't be refused. Eivaunee hadn't. Con Noate had willingly taken the necessary demotion. Eivaunee was grateful for his officer's understanding. It wasn't the first debt he owed his quietly capable officer.

Con Noate hesitanted on entering the living room, the acrid aroma of the narc stick assailing him.

"Zsar't'lac should have told you what to expect," Eivaunee said softly, testing his hypothesis as to how, and why, Con Noate was there.

"No, sir, he didn't," Con Noate answered as he came fully into the room. "He just suggested I should visit you."

Correct hypothesis -- the alien's idea.

"You couldn't judge from that?"

"Well, I wasn't sure." Con Noate lowered himself to sit in the large chair across from his Commander.

The alien was an emotional telepath. Eivaunee knew that, but Con Noate didn't. No doubt Zsar't'lac had walked past Eivaunee's quarters recently and felt the golden human's anger and decided to send Con Noate.
"I don't need a babysitter," Eivaunee said quietly, slowly inhaling more of the sweet drug. "I'm not the suicidal type."

"No," Con Noate responded. "A bit self-destructive, but not suicidal."

"Self-destructive. Isn't that suicide on a longer term basis?"

"Perhaps. Do you want me to get you anything more?" Con Noate asked, indicating his willingness to be part of it. Eivaunee smiled sweetly. "I remember your telling me once that you didn't need to be my Second-in-Command to fetch me my drugs or whiskey."

"No, I don't," Con Noate said calmly.

"More whiskey," Eivaunee said, holding out his glass.

Con Noate took the glass and walked across the room. He poured a generous amount into the glass.

"Help yourself to some of your blue wine. You know I don't drink the stuff," Eivaunee offered.

"I think one drunk person in here is enough," Con Noate said as he put the glass back into Eivaunee's hand, but it pleased him that Eivaunee still stocked some of the instant manufactured blue wine for Con Noate's occasional visits. The visits had become fewer since the alien came on board.

"One drunk is probably enough," Eivaunee agreed easily.

"You should take some rec leave," Con Noate suggested. "We're not far from Haskin's World."

"Not too far from my sweet mistress." Eivaunee laughed. It wasn't a pleasant sound.

"Sweet" was not an adjective Con Noate had ever heard applied to Baroness Yseu. Stunningly beautiful, intelligent, and amoral were more frequent descriptions. Still, Eivaunee visited her more than any other woman.

"Or someone else," Con Noate offered.

"No," Eivaunee decided. "Yseu would suit my mood just fine."

"Clever drugs?" Con Noate asked, not sure what else to say.

The Commander's catlike amber eyes turned cold. "I can have any clever drug I want here," he pointed out coolly. "Talented sex, however, I cannot."

That was another aspect of Eivaunee that Con Noate respected. The Commander never took any lovers on the ship. Not that most of them--female or male--wouldn't have been willing. The Commander was young, slender, and very attractive with his pale golden coloring, short paler blonde hair, and amber eyes set in a delicate, fine-boned face. His power and wealth only added to his attraction.

Although it could be a long time between planet falls, Eivaunee held to his belief that taking lovers among the officers and crew would complicate the chain of command. Besides he worried that any lover he chose would feel coerced by his rank. Celibacy was easier.

"It wouldn't take us long to get to Haskin's World," Con Noate repeated his suggestion.

"I know. Maybe I will take rec leave," he said softly. He looked fully at his Third-in-Command, the man who had been closest to him on the ship before the arrival of the alien. "How are things with your grandson?" he asked gently.

Con Noate smiled. The tall alien was almost always right in his judgements. Con Noate had no idea how Zsar't'lac knew that Eivaunee needed company tonight, but talking about his young grandson was the one thing that most often settled the troubled mind of his Commander. "Doing well," he answered, smiling. Once they began talking about his grandson, the drugs and booze would soon stop. "Did I tell you Jesse's walking now?"

 

CHAPTER 2

Pyet'ti looked around the small room. It was closed in with clutter. There were stupid, ugly objects to sit on, clumsily shaped storage compartments, and objects that had no apparent use placed everywhere. Everything lacked beauty and all of it was obviously mass-produced. Such an ugly setting;so appropriate for humans.

How could Zsar't'lac care for such beings? How could the Qtesark feel affection for a species that had no concept of beauty and no understanding of honor? Whatever Zsar't'lac felt for the humans, it didn't matter. It was Pyet'ti's mission--his honor--to hunt down and kill the Qtesark. The false Qtesark--he had to remember that! If Zsar't'lac had been the true Qtesark, he would never have behaved as he had. He would never had left the Homelands--and he certainly would not care about a species that had no sense of honor. So therefore Zsar't'lac could not be the Qtesark.

"S-sir?" a tenative human voice asked.

Pyet'ti looked at the soft, ugly creature.

"Is - is this satisfactory?" the small fearful man asked.

Pyet'ti looked around the room again. Its size and ugliness were unimportant. More pertinent to his mission, it had only one entrance and one window, which was opaque.

"The bedroom is over there," the little man said pointing to a doorway through which a 'bed,' as the human's called their pallets -- could be seen.

"Yes, I saw that," Pyet'ti said. There was no way into the bedroom except through the living room. The dwelling would be easy to guard and no one would see him. "This is satisfactory."

A human slave had recommended this world as a good place to trap and kill Zsar't'lac. The human had lived on this world for several years before he had fled to the Homelands after killing another human. The slave had even suggested humans who would help Pyet'ti -- for a price.

For a price, these animals would sell their species' future! And such a small price! All they wanted was gold. And it was acceptable as simple refined ore. The humans were so stupid. Even the cargo captain who had entered the Homelands to pick up the crate that held Pyet'ti -- all he wanted was gold. He never knew what was in the crate he delivered to this world that the humans called NeoCorda.
Now Pyet'ti could begin the hunt that would end in the death of the false Qtesark. A death that could be
blamed on the humans. It was really quite a simple plan. Simple enough even for a breeding cull. Mostly it involved killing humans. And that wouldn't be very difficult, Pyet'ti thought, looking down at the soft, unpleasant-smelling creature that standing by him, his hand held out for the gold. That would be enjoyable.

 

CHAPTER 3

"It's such a little thing! And you could do it so easily -- just overturn the Justices' decision!" Yseu's voice was uncharacteristically sharp. She stood in the center of the large beautiful room with its silk-covered walls and priceless antique furniture. Her thick black hair was drawn in back to fall in cascading curls, arranged perfectly to frame her fine-boned, lovely face. Her anger had raised the pale color of her skin, enhancing its porcelain beauty. The way she stood with her head slightly raised, her long graceful hands held before her, in every movement and nuance of behavior, she stated her awareness of her beauty -- and her willingness to use it.

"But I have no legal basis to overturn the Justices' decision," Eivaunee replied quietly. He was sitting in a large damask upholstered chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him. There was no anger in him to change the color of his pale golden complexion, and if he was more beautiful even than his mistress, it was a matter of indifference to him.

"All you have to say is that the Justices were wrong!" Yseu snapped. "Just state that land belongs to my husband."

"There is no reason -- no grounds -- for me to overturn the Justices' verdict," Eivaunee stated for the third time. "There isn't much evidence either way. The dispute is two generations old, Yseu! The Justices' did the best they could. And I agree with them."

"I think they were bribed," the tall, beautiful woman declared flatly. "You say you are so concerned about justice, but what about justice for me? You are the Commissioner for the Provinces. You could do this so easily. There doesn't even have to be another inquiry. You simply state that you found the Justices' decision in error and with just your signature you cede the property to my husband."

"On what grounds?" Eivaunee's voice was finally becoming sharp in return.

"The Commissioner for the Provinces doesn't need to state his reasons. Talgon did more and with less power than you have." Yseu's tone was contemptuous.

It was, under the circumstances, an unfortunate reference. It was a sign of her anger that Yseu made such a mistake.

"Talgon Morton. I remember him quite well. The Regional Govenor -- and your lover before me. I would have thought that you would remember that I had him executed precisely because he abused his power. I wondered at the time if I should have made you watch that." Eivaunee's voice was cool, and his expression, especially in his fine amber eyes, there was a warning.

Yseu shifted a little uncomfortably. "Well, no one can execute you for abuse of power -- the only one above you is the Emperor. And he won't care about a little bit of land."

Eivaunee further stretched out his legs in front of him. "There is the small matter of my conscience." It was not a consideration he expected Yseu to appreciate.

"But I told you that I believe the Justices' were bribed! You would rather believe them than me?"

"You have never been questioned under truth drugs, Yseu. You wouldn't like it." It was a general observation rather than a threat. Eivaunee had no intention of ever forcing his mistress to submit to the indignity of truth-drug questioning. "And this whole argument is ridiculous. That necklace that you so admired when I first arrived cost more than this small piece of land."

"It isn't just the money," Yseu replied, continuing her sharp tone. "It is a matter of justice -- justice for me! It is because I am your mistress that you will not listen."

"But I have listened and I have checked the court records. I even ran a check on the Justices' credit accounts, and if they were bribed, it was with too small an amount to show up. What I will not do is abrogate justice simply to please my mistress."

Yseu's head tilted up higher. She tapped her right foot several times on the hard marble floor. "There are ways the money could be hidden."

"I'm sure you can instruct me on them. But that does not alter the fact that I looked at all the documents involved and I agree with the Justices' decision. I trust you do not believe that I can be bribed?"

For a moment Yseu's expression softened, a smile touched her lovely face. "You have more income than the Emperor."

"Yes," Eivaunee agreed. "And I do not believe I have given you any cause to complain about my generosity."

"No, of course not," Yseu said sweetly. "But it isn't just the money. That land is ours. It belongs to me -- to my husband's Estates." Yseu stretched out her hands in an appealing manner. "This is justice for me, Eivaunee," she added, her voice soft and low. "Don't I deserve justice?"

She was so beautiful as she stood there with her violet eyes open wide and her hands reaching towards him. Eivaunee wanted to give her the land. And it would be easy. The only problem was his conscience. A problem Yseu never had.

Yseu was lovely, sexually stimulating, and intelligent. No woman had ever understood so well what Eivaunee needed and wanted. She was the perfect mistress. Until now. Normally Yseu understood that whatever else Eivaunee was willing to give her, he cared strongly about justice and proper government.
The Justices' had made their decision and there were no grounds for overturning it. Yseu was entirely correct in stating that he didn't need grounds; he was the Emperor's representative for all of the Provinces -- almost one third of the Klimar Empire. It only took his signature to alter justice. Such a simple thing.

Yseu continued to stand there, her manner soft and beseeching. It would be so easy to say "yes." Then the peace and harmony he had found here wouldn't be disturbed and Yseu would be pleasingly grateful. Eivaunee desperately needed the peace and tranquility. Yseu's gratitude would be pleasant, but sex was a secondary consideration. What Eivaunee truly needed was a place where he could relax and set aside his anger and frustrations for a time. Yseu understood that and provided such a haven for him. Still…

"No," Eivaunee said with finality.

Yseu lowered her arms. There was a long moment of ominous silence as her expression hardened. "I will be out tonight," she stated firmly, turning to walk away. "I am sure you can amuse yourself." The firm soles of her shoes made soft tapping sounds against the marble floor as she walked from the room with a slow and unhurried grace.

Eivaunee sighed and got up. He went out onto the long terrace and took a leisurely stroll around the precisely sculptured hedges and beautifully designed gardens. He enjoyed this Home Estate of the Roythns, as he enjoyed the Baroness Yseu. The Baron's thoughts on the matter of Eivaunee's occasional visits were never discussed, although Eivaunee did discuss other matters of business with him. Eivaunee appreciated the Baron's intelligence and his insights into the local politics. It was most likely that Baron Roythun looked on the situation simply as a business arrangement, as an additional source of income. And, truthfully, that was all it was. Eivaunee had no great love for Yseu and she had none for him. Talgon Morton had been more closely suited to her personality and inclinations.

But Eivaunee found a certain amount of peace here, a sense of quiet tranquility that he had never found anywhere else. It was that, more than Yseu herself that kept drawing him back to Haskin's World. And he knew that Yseu was depending on that. Banking, literally, on her ability to provide a peaceful haven for him, combined with her beauty and sexual skills. Eivaunee knew that Yseu felt sure of winning this contest between them. In the past, he had always given her anything she wanted. He didn't care about the credits he gave her, or the jewels she wanted. Justice was another matter. It was a coin he had never spent on her before.

Eivaunee watched a white peacock strut imperiously across the lawn, calling raucously to its mate. Yseu had misjudged the matter. Eivaunee would not comprise justice for her sake. A secondary consideration, but a far more visceral one, was that he had spent most of his life under the Emperor's direct control. He wasn't about to let anyone else tell him what he would do or would not do -- not in matters of conscience.

The main hall was cool as he reentered the building. He walked through a long series of salons that opened gracefully onto each other, to the wing that contained guest quarters. Mauri, one of the fealty-bound Roythn servants, was waiting for him inside the suite of rooms set aside for Eivaunee's use. The large attractive man always served Eivaunee when he visited.

"You looked troubled, Master," Mauri said in his low, pleasant voice.

"A little," Eivaunee agreed quietly. "What I want, Mauri, is a very hot bath, then a long massage." After a moment he added: "And at least one narc stick to begin with."

"I will get it, Master." Mauri's slippered feet padded lightly across the thick carpeted floor to the dispenser set in one of the walls. He coded in a series of numbers and brought back two narc sticks.

Eivaunee put one on a table and drew deeply on the other, lighting it. "Yseu is going out tonight," he commented. He normally didn't discuss his personal life with the servants, but Mauri was different. Eivaunee had been visiting the Roythun Home Estate for five years now. He and Mauri had something of an understanding.

"Yes, Master. Do you wish me to start your the bath now?" The well-trained servant asked no awkward questions.

Eivaunee drew again on the narc stick before he replied. "Wait until after I finish this."

"Is there anything else the Master might desire?"

Eivaunee looked up at Mauri. He was taller than Eivaunee, and the short white kilt that the servant class wore on Haskin's World, accentuated the powerful lines of his strong, attractive, dark body. In all the years Eivaunee had been visiting the Roythn Home Estate, he had never been sure if Mauri was being offered to him as an occasional alternative to Yseu. Overall, it seemed likely. He had no doubt that Mauri was as well trained in sexual pleasure as he was in massage. But men had never really interested him. Especially not after .... Eivaunee drew more deeply on the narc; he would not think about that.

"No, Mauri," Eivaunee said as he finished the narc stick.

"I will get your bath ready," Mauri said softly.

Eivaunee watched him walk into the next room. If he had an interest in men .... But he didn't.

Eivaunee lay back quietly in the deep tub as Mauri washed his short blond hair. Eivaunee didn't allow Mauri to bathe him, but he liked the touch of Mauri's strong fingers as they massaged his scalp. When he was done, Mauri dried him off briskly with thick warm towels.

"I will be leaving tomorrow morning." Eivaunee told the servant. "Pack everything tonight," The Roythn Home Estate was one of the few places that Eivaunee did not bring his own body servant to attend him.

Eivaunee padded across the heated tile floor to the warm massage table and lay down on his back. Mauri began to massage the lean, sinewy-muscled, golden body. "I don't want to spend the night playing drug games," Eivaunee stated, as he raised his right arm to lay crooked over his eyes. "And I don't feel like going out, either."

"May I make a suggestion, Master?"

"I'm looking for ideas."

"The woman who pleases you with her music? You commented once that you thought she was attractive."

Eivaunee thought about it, but shook his head. "I don't like having sex with the servants, Mauri. No offense, but they're liable to feel compelled and I don't like that."

"May I speak bluntly, Master?"

Eivaunee's arm came down and his eyes met Mauri's. "Yes."

"The Master is known to be generous and Lindi is looking for ways to earn credits."

"Trying to buy her freedom?" Eivaunee guessed. It was the most likely reason for any fealty-bound servant to seek additional money.

"Yes, Master. There is a man in town. They wish to marry."

"They can't be stopped from doing that," Eivaunee pointed out.

"No, Master, of course, but the man doesn't want his children to be born in hereditary fealty."

"Some people don't like it," Eivaunee conceded, "and fealty does flow through the female line."

"As you say, Master. Lindi has asked the Baron for her freedom price."

"She is a talented musician," Eivaunee commented.

"And trained at the Roythn's expense," Mauri agreed. "The Baron consulted with Yseu and the price was set at 5,000 credits."

"A bit high, but not unreasonable." Eivaunee found it interesting that privately Mauri never referred to Yseu as "the Baroness," although through marriage, she was.

"No, Master, nothing that could be taken to court," Mauri agreed.

Eivaunee understood the situation. He was noted for his generosity, not just to Yseu, but anyone who pleased him. Lindi doubtless hoped that he would show his appreciation for her "services" in a suitably high-credit way. Eivaunee thought about it and decided there were several attractive aspects to the suggestion. He put his arm back over his eyes.

"When we are done here, Mauri, tell her I would like to see her in a half an hour. Tell her to bring her harp.

"Yes, Master," Mauri said, smiling. "She will be pleased. The Master is a very attractive man."

Eivaunee ignored the comment, but he took his arm down again. "What about you, Mauri? Do you ever think of buying your freedom?"

"Me, Master? What would I do with it?"

"You're very good at massage. You could start your own business."

Mauri shrugged. "Yes, Master. I could work until my shoulders hurt and my fingers were sore and then I could go home to my small house. Why would I want that? Now I live in a palace and I only attend a few people who are kind and frequently grateful. The Baron is a good man, weak sometimes, but most people are. No, Master, I have no desire for my freedom." There was a quiet pause of consideration. "Unless someone else, someone else who is a good person, wanted to buy my freedom so that I could serve him?" Mauri's dark-brown eyes held Eivaunee's.

"I will keep that in mind," Eivaunee said in a cool, noncommittal way, and he rolled over onto his stomach.

"I mean no disloyalty to the Roythuns," Mauri added.

"I understand."

Lindi was a small-boned woman with fine features, a pale complexion, and thick brown hair that fell straight to her shoulders. She smiled shyly at Eivaunee who was lying on the over-sized bed. He had put on a pair of standard tight-fitting black pants and a white silk shirt, open slightly in front. The Concenti trademark of gold lace curved around his neck and wrists.

"I would like you to play the harp for me," he said gently.

Lindi sat down on the stool that had been placed for her and began playing. At first she played soft gentle melodies and then more rapidly paced, demanding pieces. She played with feeling and expertise. Eivaunee felt his irritation lessening as the music filled the room. Some of the compositions Eivaunee recognized, but most he did not. He knew Lindi wrote much of the music that she played. He also knew that the harp was her favorite instrument.

After an hour, she started to slow down again to gentler music and Eivaunee signaled to her to stop. "Hands getting tired?" he asked.

"Not if you wish me to continue playing," she replied with a quiet smile.

Eivaunee found himself hoping that the man in town was worthy of her. "No, thank you. Your playing, though, was excellent."

"Thank you, Master. I am glad it pleases you."

Eivaunee hesitated. Actually, he did want the music to continue, but he knew, despite her protestations, that her hands were getting tired. And the music was only part of what was planned for the evening. "Mauri tells me that you want to buy your freedom."

There was only the slightest hesitation. "Yes, Master. That is so."

"You seem to be intelligent, so I won't bother asking if you have thought of all the problems involved."

There was a slight sigh. "Yes, Master, I have. But Davy doesn't want his children to be fealty-bound."

There were benefits and problems with all ways of life, Eivaunee reminded himself, but he hoped this man could provide Lindi with the sort of security that came with hereditary fealty.

"Mauri tells me that the price set for your freedom is 5,000 credits."

"Yes, Master." Again the slight, almost imperceptible, sigh. "It is not so high a sum that it is impossible, but it is certainly a very difficult amount."

"And you are sure that this is what you want?"

"Yes, Master."

Eivaunee rolled to his side and got up. He walked across the wide room to a small inlaid wood table that had a credit chit lying on top of it. He picked up the chit and walked back to Lindi. He held it out to her.

"There is 5,000 credits endorsed on this. You will have your freedom."

"Master?!" Lindi's dark eyes opened wide. "It is so much!"

"Not to me," Eivaunee said simply as he walked back to the bed. This was what he would have preferred, if he could have, with Yseu.

"You don't have to stay now," Eivaunee pointed out. "You already hold your freedom."

Lindi looked at the man who lay so casually on the opulent bed. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. His eyes were fully amber, the irises being a darker shade. Just now, he seemed like a golden god to her. A kind, generous, wonderful god. Lindi's face mirrored her gratitude and happiness.

"You don't have to stay now," Eivaunee again pointed out.

"But I want to stay," Lindi stated definitely. Never in her life would she know such a man again. She wanted very, very much to stay.

"Good," Eivaunee said, smiling. "I would like that as well."

 

CHAPTER 4

"My dear Sing'm'li," Zsar't'lac began the recording. "By human counting, today is the fourth anniversary of my arrival in the Klimar Empire. Over three Norda years. I am feeling lonelier than usual today. How I miss you! And Conli, Rji'k'lit -- the Homelands! I have such a hunger for all things Hsassan! But I must finish my mission here before I can return to Norda--to you.

"I spent the last hour wondering what you are doing. Are you hunting or fighting or mounting a lover? How dearly I would enjoy any of the three! I try to cultivate patience, but I was never very good at that -- as you well know.

"But time passes and I am learning more about humans. I was never as fond of them as most Hsassan thought, but I find them interesting. I know you would say that they have no honor and certainly that is true for many humans, but not all of them. But I will not continue to lecture you on this, my beloved.

"What is important now, is that you remember what I told you before we parted. If I die here in the human lands, then you are to kill the humans not enslave them. If I thought you would listen to me, I would tell you to leave them in peace, but I have always known that if I die here, the Hsassan will take as my blood-price the death of the entire species. I do not believe in blood-price, my love, but I know you will not listen to me on that either."

Zsar't'lac paused thinking about more important matters. "I find, with the distance and silence from the Homelands, I worry more about Conli and her revolution. I know she is quite capable, and that with yours and Rji'k'lit's help, my bearer's revolution will succeed with ease. But accidents happen and I wish that I were there to help. It is ego, you would say, and no doubt, you are correct."

"Are you mated yet?" Zsar't'lac asked one of his recurring questions. "As I have said in earlier recordings, I was wrong to ask that you not mate with Con'j'ti. And if that has happened, you know it will not alter my love for you: nothing can change that. Whomever you mate with -- even if it is Con'j'ti -- I am sure he would understand our becoming lovers again when I return to the Homelands. I can share you. You know that despite what was said, I never forced you into singular bonding -- that was your decision.

"As for myself, I enjoy sex with human females. They are so very different from Hsassan females. They're physical unattractiveness is more than made up for by their independence. It is quite enjoyable to be with a female who can pick and choose her lovers -- like a Hsassan. The Yseret were very wrong to force our females into their own houses and force them to accept whoever requests them as sexual partners. It does so please me to think how a female, my bearer, will be their destruction. Conli will prove, beyond any doubt, the lie of that Hsassana are inferior, fit only for sex and breeding."

"I wonder sometimes whether the Yseret altered the Hsassan's genes to force us to prefer our own gender, or if it is the forced separation of the two genders that precludes close bonding between male and female Norda. In all the breeding records I have studied, I have found no reference to such a genetic alteration, so I think it must be the enforced separation. While I prefer males of my own species and breeding class, you need not fear that I have dishonored either of us by having any variety of sex with a human male. I will never be so desperate! How could a weak, soft human male give me the pleasure play I desire with a male?"

"The human male I spend the most time with is Eivaunee Dorlan. I have taught him the basics of J'tekc fighting. It gives me a little exercise and, being Hsassan, I use it for other purposes as well. If Eivaunee irritates me too much, or behaves in a manner that I dislike, he spends a little while longer lying on his back on the floor my cori at his throat. He isn't stupid; he knows what I am doing and why, but for reasons of his own, he allows it.

"I like that he accepts and to a certain degree understands the differences between our two species. Like when we were doing some survey work recently on a planet with some interesting wild animals. I took recreational leave there to do some hunting. It was stimulating -- and I got a chance to eat some truly fresh meat." Zsar't'lac grinned as he thought of the animal that nearly gored him with its long sharp horn. He ended up with a very bad cut across his chest, but it wasn't a problem; he had fully healed within a day.

"I also have compassion for Eivaunee's situation. As I told you before, the Emperor raped Eivaunee's mother and killed his father. The Emperor is afraid of Eivaunee, believing that the young human wants his throne. I do not think that Eivaunee wishes to be Emperor, but he does very much wish to kill the Emperor. That would be good. I am quite willingly to help him when the time comes."

"I need to go to ComCent soon. It is so strange to be within a ship, but not part of it. To be encased, almost completely blind, within a box of unliving metal. How I shall enjoy truly being part of ship again when I am back again in the Homelands. To feel its power surging through me!"

Zsar't'lac paused for a moment, lost in remembrance of bonding with a variety of Hsassan starships. The pleasure of being part of a living ship! To see the stars, the galaxies, the vast black voids as the ship does! To fight combats will all the ship's power flowing through you! With a sigh, Zsar't'lac turned his thoughts to the present.

"Eivaunee is on recreational leave with his mistress. Normally he returns from her in a good mood. I hope that will be the case this time as well as the Emperor has declared a planet in rebellion and Eivaunee will have to deal with that on his return. Planetary rebellions are the missions that he hates most because he must put the rebellions down, even when they are justified.

"As for me, I have some light pleasures, and my memories to retreat to when the loneliness becomes too strong. In my mind I can hear the Hall of the Hsassan ringing with music and laughter; I can go hunting in the cool dark forest and I can feel your body matched against mine -- fighting, dancing, or in pleasure-play. I think sometimes it is only my memories that keep me sane. My love and my soul's desire are only for you."

 

CHAPTER 5

Pyet'ti stared at the small group of humans standing in front of him. He enjoyed the smell of their fear. That was as it should be. Their greed, though, was greater than their fear, and it would be their downfall. First, though, Zsar't'lac had to be killed and these humans would help. They would be Pyet'ti's eyes, ears, and legs outside of the hotel room. If they did their work well, they would be rewarded in gold. If they failed, or if there was the slightest hint of betrayal, they would die. Most unpleasantly.

One human had already tried to "blackmail" him (humans had such odd words!) for more gold. Pyet'ti had made the other humans watch while he had killed that human. Pyet'ti didn't think any of the other humans would make the same mistake.

Three males and one female comprised the small group of humans who served him. That should be enough; all they had to do was supply him with information and bring him the humans to be killed. Exactly that and nothing more. Pyet'ti demanded absolute obedience.

He hoped the human authorities would send the Comveckt to NeoCorda soon. He disliked spending so much time surrounded by humans. It only increased his puzzlement over why the Qtesark (the false Qtesark!) cared about these creatures. They were fit only to wear a slave's collar! They thought nothing of betraying their own kind to death. They had no concept of honor -- they were nothing but dressed up animals!

The desire for the success of his mission was strong in Pyet'ti. It was an honor to be sent to kill the one who had betrayed the Homelands! And after the ...false...Qtesark's death, Pyet'ti would enjoy destroying the humans. Also L'Tang himself had promised that if he succeeded, Pyet'ti would be allowed to breed with an alpha female. That was a very great honor!

Pyet'ti hummed a little as looked at the foolish, ugly creatures. It was all going to be so very simple. All because of the humans willingness to betray their fellow humans to violent, unpleasant death in return for a few pieces of gold. These humans would die when Hsassan war ships came with burning fury to avenge the death of the Qtesark. Pyet'ti had promised them he would leave them unharmed. He said nothing about returning.

 

CHAPTER 6

"It is not a matter of life or death, but rather how many will die." Eivaunee tried but he couldn't remember the origin of the quote. It was certainly pertinent in this case. Tomorrow people would die by his command. It was only a question of how many.

He stood alone, silent and thoughtful, on the balcony of the second story of the Governor's Lodge on Connux, the darkness of the night surrounding him. The planet's small moon had waned to a half-circle crescent. The only sound disturbing the night was the measured tread of his guards in the courtyard below.

The farce of a trial for rebellion and treason was over. Earlier in the day he had privately passed sentence on the people involved. The leaders of the rebellion would have tonight to think on that sentence. And he would have the night to decide what he would do.

Eivaunee looked up into the dark night sky. He knew he couldn't discern the Comveckt from the other soft lights in the sky, but it was reassuring to know that it orbited above. He had no concerns for his ship; Zsar't'lac commanded the Comveckt in his absence. And in his presence, more often than not. The large alien did a better job of it than either Eivaunee or Con Noate had ever done. A slight smile touched Eivaunee's face. Thinking of the alien was one of the few pleasant thoughts he had over the last few days.
From below, Eivaunee could hear the soft exchange of words as his guard was changed. He knew he should go back inside and give them less to worry about. The next day would be long -- he should try to get some sleep.

How he hated these senseless killings! And hated the Emperor who demanded them! A burning fury filled him, focused at the man who commanded him to kill on penalty of the loss of his life and, more important, the forfeiture of the Dorlan Estates. For a long moment Eivaunee stood there, taut with rage, then slowly, he forced himself to release it. Rage was what Hazdel wanted; a fury that would push him into a rebellion that was doomed to failure by the perfection of the shields that protected the Imperial Palace.

Eivaunee shivered; the night was cold. He turned and walked back inside.

 

The late morning sun struck the beveled edges of the windowpanes, sending arabesque rainbows dancing throughout the large, ornate, mostly vacant room. In a dark-wood paneled alcove, Eivaunee sat at a large desk, reading a commsole screen. A security woman stood at silent attention behind him. They were the only two people in the spacious room.

The building dated from the previous century when it had housed the offices of the local planetary government. The sweeping, ornate, and formal style of the building reflected the mood of confident optimism that had characterized that time. The large rooms were detailed with woods imported from distant planets. Now, except for this one room and the Governor's Lodgings above, the building was used as a warehouse.

The door sounded.

"Come," Eivaunee said, releasing the door. The security woman shifted a little behind him.

A prisoner, wearing wrist and ankle restrainers, shuffled into the room, his escort of two local Peace-Keepers followed behind. Eivaunee did not look up as they entered, but continued to read the floating, holographic commsole screen.

The prisoner looked aimlessly around the room, but that was the only movement anyone made as they all continued to wait in silence for the Commissioner for the Provinces to finish whatever he was reading. Finally, Eivaunee spoke a quiet command and the screen vanished. He looked up at the prisoner.

Rede Jocquat was an older man with dark hair, graying at the temples, and a stout build that did not owe its width entirely to muscle. He was of the breed so common in the Provinces, a simple, moderately successful, working man. He had, of necessity, become involved in something past his ken and now he would pay the price for it.

"Leave us," Eivaunee commanded the Peace Keeper escort. "You, as well," he told to his guard.

"Sir?" the woman questioned briefly, and then added; "Yes, sir!"

"As you will, sir!" The two Peace Keepers echoed in close unison. One of them glanced back as he left the room, whether out of concern or curiosity it would be hard to say.

After the door closed behind them, Eivaunee picked up the transmitter on his desk, set the frequency and pointed it at the prisoner. The restrainers fell to the floor.

"Be seated," Eivaunee Dorlan offered.

Rede Jocquat sat down in one of the chairs that faced the wide, ornate wood desk. There was a moment of silence as the two men simply looked at each other. The three days of the trial provided a backdrop for their appraisal. Eivaunee got up and walked over to a bar set by a sidewall. "Would you care for some wine?" he asked. He didn't wait for the prisoner to answer. He poured two glasses of wine from the same decanter and brought them both over to the desk.

"Take either one," he offered.

Rede hesitated.

"Take one," Eivaunee commanded flatly and Rede chose.

Eivaunee leaned slightly back against the front of the desk. He picked up the other glass of wine and sipped it, his amber eyes focused on the man seated in front of him. "It became obvious during the circus -- pardon me, trial -- that you were the leader of this insurrectionist activity." Eivaunee's cat-amber his eyes held Rede Jocquat's.

"Yes, sir, I was. But we meant no disloyalty to the Emperor. We only wanted some relief -- some help -- against our lord's son. We were not rebelling against the Emperor," Rede repeated what he had said countless times during the trial.

"The Emperor defines rebellion very broadly -- as you have found out -- as you should have known," Eivaunee replied softly. The fine bones in his face were more clearly defined. The sleepless nights and too little food were taking their toll of him.

"We had no choice!" Rede replied hoarsely. "Our lord's son -- Hakim -- we couldn't live like that! We tried appealing to the Regional Governor, but our lord has friends at Court. The Regional Governor wouldn't listen to us. We couldn't live as we were!"

"You mean with a lordling who felt he was free to rape, pillage, and kill as he chose?" Eivaunee asked as he turned to sit again at the desk.

"Yes!" Rede answered hotly.

"The question was rhetorical," Eivaunee said wearily as he sat down again.

"We -- the leaders -- are willing to pay the price for our actions," Rede told him, his voice breaking with fatigue and the strain of the last few days. "We never thought our actions would go unpunished. But you have said that our families will die -- our whole town! Please!" Rede's voice was low and strained. "Let us, the leaders, pay the penalty but not our families -- not our friends! It was not a rebellion against the Emperor!"

"Be silent," Eivaunee told him harshly. The last thing he wanted was for this proud, capable man to beg. But his words helped Eivaunee finalize his decision. He made the choice he probably would have in any case, but Rede Jocquat's obvious worth made it easier.

"The Emperor stated, before this trial began, that this world was in rebellion. The trial was a formality only," Eivaunee said gently. "When a world is declared in rebellion, I have is a limited range of options. I have given you -- this world -- the minimum penalty. I have also found the lordling Hakim guilty of behavior to incite a rebellion, and I have given him the maximum penalty. He will be publicly flogged later tonight."

"And after that -- our families -- our town dies," Rede's voice was soft and flat.

"After that -- the eleven of you will be executed." Eivaunee's eyes were focused on the condemned man's face. There was a difference in what he said, but Rede Jocquat didn't understand it. Yet.

There was silence in the small alcove. Clouds had moved in to block the red-orange sun and large raindrops began to tap against the beveled windows. Eivaunee's eyes shifted to focus on a point just beyond the silent figure that sat in front of him. "Rede?" he finally asked. "Is there someone remaining in the town that you trust? Someone who is respected and would be listened to?"

Rede hesitated only a moment before answering. "Yes."

Eivaunee's his cat-amber eyes shifted down to meet the older man's. "If you were given a secured communications channel, could you contact this person?"

"Yes, Master," Rede replied, his voice hopeful.

"Your town has only a few thousand people. No one, outside of the few people directly involved in this trial, knows the final verdict. At midnight tonight, Imperial justice will be dispensed." Eivaunee smiled slightly. "I find the night to be a useful, and frequently appropriate, time to dispense Imperial justice." Particularly when I want darkness to cover that which would be far too noticeable in daylight.

Rede took a deep breath. "I understand, Master."

"The towns' people will have -- at most -- one hour," Eivaunee continued. "That should be sufficient. The sentencing and public displays of justice I will be orchestrating should hold everyone else's attention."

Eivaunee leaned forward in the large chair, his silk clad forearms resting on the desktop. "The evacuation must be done quickly and quietly. If it is brought to my attention that the towns' people are escaping, I will order the Comveckt to open fire. I am willing to take some risks, but I am not willing to be seen as openly aiding and abetting convicted traitors." Eivaunee knew the risk he was taking. He had done this before; he just had to be very careful of who knew. The knowledge that Rede Jocquat possessed wasn't important; he would be dead in a few more hours.

"Thank you," Rede said softly. "I do not know how to ..."

"I don't want your gratitude," Eivaunee cut him short. "You will still be executed. There is nothing I can do to change that."

"I said we expected to pay a price," Rede replied with dignity. "Now my wife and daughter will live."

Eivaunee had come to respect the eleven people he was going to order executed later that night. There was nothing he could do to save them; he knew this, but the senselessness and needlessness of their deaths burned in his mind. Careful of the anger, he reminded himself. Focus on what you can do. "After I finish writing my speech for tonight, I will return to the Comveckt to oversee the final arrangements for this evening's public lesson in Imperial discipline. After I leave the Comveckt, Officer Zsar't'lac will take you to a room with a secured communication channel."

"The alien?" Rede Jocquat asked.

"Yes," Eivaunee answered with a smile. "He will set up the secured communications link."

"You trust him with this information?" Rede wasn't surprised, only a little worried. Everyone in the Provinces knew of the friendship between the young Commissioner of the Provinces and the alien warrior, but friendship and this level of trust were two different matters.

"It isn't the first time Zsar't'lac has helped me with something like this. He can be trusted."

"But the reward for proof of your treason ... " Rede left the sentence unfinished. The reward was only whispered.

"The Emperor will give the person who brings him proof of my treason one quarter of the Dorlan Estates," Eivaunee finished the sentence for him. "The reward doesn't interest Zsar't'lac," Eivaunee added. "And he is already the Dorlan Estate Agent. I trust him with my life and with the Dorlan Estates."

"But he betrayed his Homelands."

"No -- he left his Homelands. He never betrayed them," Eivaunee corrected the older man.

"Why did he leave?" Rede asked, implying there must have been a problem.

"I don't know," Eivaunee answered honestly. "But in the years he has been with me, he has given me no cause for complaint, nor any reason to not trust him."

Rede Jocquat made no response, but his face continued its worried look.

"You must return to the security cell," Eivaunee told him quietly.

Rede shrugged; the choices the high and mighty made were their own business. He got up, walked over to the side bar, and put the empty wine glass down. He returned to the chair and looped the electronic restrainers around his ankles and his wrists. Eivaunee picked up the transmitter, reset the frequency, and locked them.

"We will not talk again, Rede Jocquat. Your death will be fast and clean."

"Thank you again," Rede said

"I am going to call the guard back. You may tell your fellow prisoners of the plan before they are executed." Eivaunee touched the communications link woven into the gold braid trim on his black over tunic. "Tell the Peace Keepers to return to take the prisoner back to the space port and turn him
over to the security detail from the Comveckt."

When the Peace Keepers arrived at the door, Eivaunee's attention was given back to his holographic commsole screen. "Take him back," he said, without looking away from what he was reading.

Eivaunee continued working for several more hours on his speech for the evening. Finally, he was satisfied with the wording. He touched the communications link. "Send my security escort to me and notify the Comveckt of my return. Also, request Officer Zsar't'lac meet me in the shuttle bay."

"To hear is to obey," the communications technician replied in standard form.

The escort arrived and Eivaunee left the building and walked the short distance to his waiting shuttle craft. The trip back to the Comveckt was brief and Eivaunee simply relaxed, realizing how truly tired he was.

The shuttle landed in the outer airlock and was rotated through to the main shuttle bay. The door opened and Eivaunee gestured for his escort to disembark. "Notify CommCent that I will be there shortly," Eivaunee told the man in charge of his security escort. Eivaunee stretched; it was going to be a long unpleasant night. Leaving the shuttle, he looked towards the main doors to the ship. Zsar't'lac was there, walking towards him; Eivaunee smiled at the sight of his tall alien friend.

Zsar't'lac was tall, even for a Hsassan. His long, thick blue-black hair was confined in a single braid at the nape of his neck. The standard tight-fitting black pants outlined the powerful muscles of his long legs; his white silk shirt was mostly covered by the black fleet tunic with its silver trim. The silver lace of his officer's rank showed briefly at his wrists and neck. His large powerful body should have looked at least a little ridiculous encased in silk and lace, but there was a sense of dignity and ability about him that made the contrast unimportant.

Zsar't'lac returned Eivaunee's smile. His thinner lips parting to show his sharp predator's teeth. He walked towards Eivaunee with the sleek supple grace of a cat. "Difficult time, Commander?" the alien asked in his gentle voice.

"Difficult enough."

They walked towards Eivaunee's quarters.

"Did you watch the trial?" Eivaunee asked.

"Enough of it," Zsar't'lac replied.

They walked down the wide, white corridors in silence. Officers and crew saluted as they went by. Neither Eivaunee nor Zsar't'lac responded. That wasn't usual. Eivaunee disliked the military displays and Zsar't'lac found them meaningless. The solitary guard stationed in front of the door to Eivaunee's suite of rooms saluted. Another security person was coming up from behind them. When the Commander was in residence, two guards stood outside his door. It was more a symbolic gesture than anything else. In the event of a sustained attack, two security guards wouldn't last long. The presence of the two guards, though, was more useful in verifying when the Commander was in his quarters.

The door recognized Eivaunee Dorlan and opened at his approach. Eivaunee led the way through the small outer office area that was normally vacant. Most Commanders had a permanently assigned yeoman who sat in the small office and controlled access to the Commander's office and living quarters. Eivaunee found that to be a waste of personnel. Few people wasted his time with unnecessary intrusions.

As the door to his main living room closed behind him, Eivaunee gave a slight sigh of relief. His personal quarters, particularly this living room, was his small refuge on the large ship. Since he had been raised in the Imperial Palace and was the wealthiest man in the Klimar Empire, the living room was more reminiscent of a quiet retreat in a large manor houses, rather than a battleship. The main sitting room furniture was heavy and overlarge for the room; the floor was covered with thick carpeting, woven on one of the Dorlan estates. There were paintings and holographs on the walls, some of them priceless treasures from the Dorlan Home Estate. On one wall, Eivaunee had a line of enclosed bookcases, a true sign of the wealthy.

Eivaunee sat down in one of the over-large chairs as Zsar't'lac walked over to the small bar inset into one of the walls. "Wine, Eivaun, or would you prefer something stronger?"

"I would like something stronger, but I need to put on a good show tonight." Eivaunee leaned his golden head against the tall back of the chair, relaxing a little. It was good to hear the name "Eivaun" again. Only two people living used the diminutive of his name: Seriie Realt, a close friend of Eivaunee's father who had, more than anyone else, replaced the mother Eivaunee has lost when he was three; and now Zsar't'lac, his Second-in-Command, bodyguard, and friend.

Zsar't'lac poured two glasses of wine and walked across the burgundy and navy patterned carpet. He handed one of the carved crystal glasses to Eivaunee, who looked up into the alien's totally black eyes. "God, how I want to kill Hazdel," he spoke treason firmly to the only being he could.

"I hope you do," the alien was agreeable. "Your emotions are worse than I expected," he added. "Can
we not save the town? When you set sentencing for midnight in this area, I thought that was what you had in mind."

"One of the pleasures as well as one of the irritations of your company, my friend," Eivaunee said with a wry smile. "For the past three days no one has told me of my emotional state. And I am not sure whether I missed that or enjoyed it. Overall, though, it is probably a good thing that you are the only emotional empath."

Zsar't'lac settled into a chair across from Eivaunee. He didn't bother to reply.

"As far as the town goes, yes," Eivaunee replied to the more pertinent question. "We will be doing the midnight evacuation that we have done in the past. But the eleven people -- the leaders of this non-rebellion -- I can't save them." Eivaunee's full, sensual mouth twisted down.

"No, Eivaun. They must die," Zsar't'lac replied gently. "Their executions will be witnessed by a great many people, including, via holographic transmission, the Emperor. They cannot be found alive later. The town is another matter. If some people escape, it's not necessarily your doing."

"I know, Zsar. I just hate the killing."

There was sympathy in the orange-red colors that danced in the alien's eyes. Eivaunee watched the colors flicker and flare; he found Zsar't'lac's eyes fascinating. He knew that the colors that danced and flared against a background of total black were the result of enzymes released by emotions. Dark red was anger; light red was pleasure and orange-red was sympathy and compassion. Occasionally there was even iridescence. Experience had taught Eivaunee that dark iridescence indicated unhappiness. Light iridescence normally meant his alien friend was thinking of his life back in the Homelands.

It was good to be with Zsar't'lac again, to be with the one being Eivaunee could trust, because he was the only one the Emperor couldn't buy, blackmail or drug into betraying Eivaunee.

Zsar't'lac felt Eivaunee's emotions, his gratitude and the friendship that was returned.

"You need to get some sleep as well as some food before your performance tonight," Zsar't'lac suggested. He carefully sipped the wine. The delicate cut-crystal wineglasses were not designed for beings with long hunting teeth. "What are your plans for the next few hours?"

"Talk to Sanqu about the arrangements for the holographic transmission and, after that, food and, if not sleep, at least some rest. I haven't slept well these past three nights."

"Is there anything you need me to do other than help Sanqu set up the communication channels? I presume we will want one very secure channel for brief use."

"Correct. As usual, run it through my commsole system. No one, other than you or I, can access that. Also I want you at the weapon systems for the destruction of the town."

"I had assumed that. Is there anything else you would like?"

"Nothing easy, Zsar," Eivaunee replied with a sigh.

"Difficult, for a Hsassan, just takes a little longer," Zsar't'lac told him with a grin. They both knew what the real problem was, but it was Eivaunee who had to make the decision to try for the throne. That Zsar't'lac would be incredibly helpful in the process was understood, but the initial decision had to be Eivaunee's.

"Actually," Eivaunee said, changing his mind slightly. "Would you make arrangements for a masseuse to be here within an hour?"

"That will not be a problem," the alien told him in his gentle reassuring way. Such activities were not within the boundaries of his duties as Second-in-Command of the Comveckt, nor were they involved in any aspect of serving as Eivaunee's most trusted bodyguard, but Eivaunee rarely asked him to perform such minor personal services. Zsar't'lac didn't mind indulging him when he did ask.

Eivaunee finished his wine. "I should go off to talk to Sanqu and visit CommCent." His voice notably lacking enthusiasm. The lack of desire was not feigned; he didn't feel like moving. He wanted to stay in his quarters and get drunk. Very drunk. He stood up. "I presume everything is fine here."

"No problems," Zsar't'lac confirmed. "I will take care of the arrangements for the masseuse and some food."

Eivaunee could have checked the status of the ship from his quarters, but after an absence of several days, he preferred to visit CommCent in person.

The short walk to CommCent was reassuring in its familiarity.

"Commander," Con Noate greeted him with a wide smile as Eivaunee entered the large circular room.

Eivaunee nodded at him and his eyes made the circle of the four on-duty officers, one stand-by officer, and the two yeomen, who were the usual compliment of on-duty personnel for CommCent.

"Everything running fine?" he asked Con Noate.

"Yes, sir; everything is fine. Having a Second-in-Command who only sleeps every other night is useful," Con Noate told him.

Eivaunee's eyes held Con Noate's. "However little Zsar't'lac sleeps, and regardless of how efficient he is, he is still only one officer. Most of the credit for how well this ship is run goes to the rest of you."

There were smiles all around at that, which is exactly what Eivaunee wanted. Before Zsar't'lac had come on the ship, Eivaunee had been careful not to have any close friends among the officers. There were good reasons for this, including lessening the potential for factions and jealousy among the officers. During the four years that Zsar't'lac had served on the Comveckt, Eivaunee's rule about friendship with his officers had changed, and all of the officers and crew knew it.

Zsar't'lac never abused his position, either as Second-in-Command of the ship, or as the Commander's only close friend. And Eivaunee made sure that the other officers were not overlooked in praise or in any other form of reward. The officers and crew, even if they didn't particularly like the alien, had little to complain about.

Eivaunee looked around at his officers and yeomen again. "I presume that all of you watched at least part of the trial."

There were nods all around. Officer Hafva, the navigator, had the most disgusted look on her face.

"You all know the Emperor's commands on this. None of us likes what we will be doing here later, but it will be done anyway." Eivaunee's eyes briefly met his officers' again. "Officer Zsar't'lac will be operating the weapon systems and Officer Sanqu will be in charge of communication and holographic transmission. The rest of you here will be performing your regular functions. Any questions?"

Silence answered him.

"Any comments?"

"Nothing that isn't treasonable," Sanqu answered.

Eivaunee turned to face his Communications Officer, who was one of two people on the ship in hereditary fealty to him; his personal body-servant Podi Blinet was the other.

"Treason gets me killed," Eivaunee pointed out bluntly.

The color rose sharply in Sanqu's face. "Not you, sir. I meant a personal comment by me."

"CommCent is under my command, officer. I am responsible for what goes on here."

"Yes, sir. I-I won't make that mistake again, sir."

Eivaunee had brought Devei Sanqu over from Dorlan Enterprises, the business end of the family conglomerate when the previous Chief Communications Officer had retired. Sanqu was brilliant with communications technology, but he still occasionally had trouble understanding the military aspects of his new situation.

"I trust you will not," Eivaunee stated firmly. He walked over to Sanqu's chair and placed a hand lightly on his shoulder. Sanqu smiled up at him. Eivaunee didn't touch people very often. It was a sign that the young officer's error had been put in the past. "We need to discuss how this evenings' holographic transmission will be done for the widest possible coverage. A tight packet beam needs to be focused at the Imperial Planet. Boost the power on that signal."

"Yes, sir."

They continued to talk quietly, discussing the holographic communications broadcast.

Later, when Eivaunee returned to his quarters, Podi Blinet, his fealty-bound personal body servant, was setting out a light meal, consisting mostly of fresh fruits and steamed vegetables. Podi wore the set look he always had when he had a run-in with Zsar't'lac, which happened far too frequently. Podi made no effort to disguise his dislike of the alien. Zsar't'lac returned Podi's antagonism with politeness, ignoring the situation.

"Thank you, Podi," Eivaunee told his body-servant as the man finished arranging the small table set in an alcove off the living room.

"You are welcome, Master," he replied formally. As a personal body-servant, not in the chain-of-command of the military, Podi could address Eivaunee by his birth rank rather than his military title. "But if you wished to have a light supper brought to you, you should have told me," he added as Eivaunee sat down.

Eivaunee should have told him directly rather than the alien was what he meant. Eivaunee wasn't in the mood to deal with Podi's xenophobia, or his jealousy.

"Lay out a clean uniform and check to make sure there are no snags or tears in the lace," he told him curtly.

"Yes, Master," Podi replied quietly, his eyes lowered, his thin lips compressed. He left without further comment.

Eivaunee had just finished eating when the door sounded.

"Identify."

"Security, sir. You requested a masseuse."

"Security ID correct," the computer system agreed.

"Come."

Two security men escorted in a middle-aged woman. She was tall, sinewy-muscled, and had a worried expression. Being summoned by the Commissioner for the Provinces, who was also the Commander of the Comveckt, frequently had that effect on people.

"Don't worry," Eivaunee told her. "I just want a massage." He nodded dismissal to the security personnel and walked into rather spartan bedroom, the woman following behind.

Eivaunee stripped off his clothing and lay down on the side of the wide bed. The woman approached him hesitantly and began the massage, diffidently at first. As she felt the hard tension in his muscles, she began to do a more thorough, professional job. Eivaunee tried to relax. He deliberately didn't think about the upcoming evening's activities. After a time he rolled over and the woman began massaging his chest and arms. Eivaunee could feel the tension ease.

He let his mind wander, wondering what should do about Podi. Probably nothing at this point. The Blinets had served as body servants for the Dorlans for generations, but it was irritating. Zsar't'lac worked well with all of the CommCent officers. Eivaunee was sure that at least a few of them didn't like the alien, but Zsar gave them no grounds for complaints. The alien's arrogance, which Eivaunee had thought would be problem, was kept under remarkable control.

Even more than Eivaunee, Zsar't'lac had little tolerance for incompetence or stupidity, but once he understood what was, and what was not, expected of the other officers, there had been few problems. It was interesting that Hafva, who somehow hadn't lost her sweet, small-planet, point-of-view, was one of Zsar't'lac's most vocal admirers. The alien, more lightly, returned the regard. He had even asked Eivaunee about the rules concerning sexual relationships between officers. Eivaunee had explained official regulations forbid sexual relations between officers in direct line-of-command. He also pointed out that the regulation was blatantly ignored on most ships, but not on the Comveckt. And Officer Hafva was under Zsar't'lac in the direct chain-of-command. Zsar't'lac had accepted the answer and abided by it.

Eivaunee wondered again about Zsar't'lac's situation in the Homelands. Eivaunee had never told the alien that he knew he was the Hsassan Qtesark. In part because he wasn't sure how Zsar't'lac would react to that knowledge and also -- an odd consideration, he knew -- he wanted Zsar't'lac to tell him himself. And maybe at the same time explain what the hell a genetic messiah was, anyway.

The masseuse was doing an excellent job; Eivaunee felt a pleasant drowsiness. He put his right arm up around her shoulders and he drew her down to lie next to him. She laid down uncertainly, her body tense. "It's all right," Eivaunee said softly. "I like sleeping with women." Especially just now, I don't want the bad dreams now. His breathing became deeper until, quietly, he slid off to sleep.

Two hours later, Zsar't'lac paused outside of Eivaunee's quarters, his mind probing ahead. Eivaunee's soft, unfocused emotions indicated that he was asleep. Zsar't'lac's hand shifted from the announcer panel to override. His palm-print, like Eivaunee's, overrode any lock on the ship. He entered his Commander's quarters, smiling with amusement at the woman's emotions. It was apparent that she had been uncomfortable with the situation at first, but now she was enjoying very much lying next to the sleeping Eivaunee.

Zsar't'lac went to the main commsole and keyed in his access code. He placed his palm against the scanner.

"Verified," the soft, feminine computer voice replied.

Zsar't'lac felt Eivaunee stir slightly. The computer voice was too loud. He set the machine for a lower, quieter voice and began talking softly with Sanqu and to the computer system. It didn't take long to set up the secured communication link. As he was exiting the system, he heard the chronometer in the bedroom tell Eivaunee the time. He felt the woman's regret as Eivaunee woke up. There was the soft sound of some conversation between them and then Eivaunee walked into the living area of his quarters, wearing his exotically-figured black silk robe.

Zsar't'lac looked up from the screen. "Just finishing here."

The masseuse was standing slightly behind Eivaunee. "Would you call a security team to escort her back to the planet?" Eivaunee asked. He yawned and stretched his lean body.

Zsar't'lac didn't answer, he touched the communications link and requested the security team.

Eivaunee walked over to a small table and picked up a credit chit and inserted it into an auxiliary terminal. "I never asked your name," he pointed out to the woman.

"Karen Patern," she answered. "And I don't expect to be paid."

"Don't be foolish," Eivaunee replied. "I kept you longer than a normal massage session."

"It is an honor to serve you. It is custom throughout the Provinces not to charge you."

That was true, still this was a small and poor planet.

"That normally applies only to minor services," Eivaunee tried to persuade the woman.

"What I did was minor."

Eivaunee had to get on to other matters. "Thank you," he said formally, lightly touching the woman's face. She smiled broadly. The time she had spent with him was brief. Still it was an honor she would tell to her children and grandchildren. It would become part of the family lore.

The security guards arrived. "Take this woman back to the planet," Eivaunee commanded them.

"As you will, sir."

"Thank you," the woman said softly.

Eivaunee was turning away towards the alien as the door closed. "I'm going to shower, get dressed, and head down to the planet. Once I am there, you know what to do."

"Yes, Eivaun. I do."

Eivaunee showered and dressed for putting on a show, his white silk shirt trimmed with real gold lace. The black tight-fitting Imperial dress pants and tunic were of a heavy silk/sorit blend that would shimmer well under bright lights. On the left side of his heavy silk tunic was embroidered the blood red streaming star of Imperial Fleet Service and on the right was the gold thread embroidery of his Commander's rank. Around his slender waist, he wrapped the white silk sash of command, tying it on the left, the long ends, also trimmed with real gold lace, fell to his knees.

When he was finished dressing, he opened the flat, rectangular gold and jewel inlaid box that held the heavy gold necklace of intertwining S-links that was the emblem of the entitled Concenti; there were only twenty-nine now. There should have been thirty, two for each of the fifteen Concenti families, but there was no entitled female head for the Dorlan family. The necklace went over his head to lay wide-set across his shoulders and chest. After a moment's consideration, he decided not to wear the red satin cape. That would be too garish, even for tonight.

Eivaunee's security escort waited for him in the shuttle bay. The escort doubled as the execution squad. The person in charge of the team, Carit Janus, was the second best marksman on the ship after Zsar't'lac. For a human, Janus was truly a superb shot. Since it was considered inappropriate for the Commissioner of the Provinces to personally carry weapons, in any potentially difficult situations, Eivaunee preferred to have either Zsar't'lac or Janus with him.

The trip to the planet's surface was made in silence. No one liked what was going happen that night, least of all, Eivaunee. The shuttle landed near the platform stage that had been set up. Holographic cameras were already in place and technicians were testing light angles.

Eivaunee always used holographic transmission for displays of Imperial justice. Most people believed it was because of their enhanced realism, but actually it was because of the slightly decreased resolution of 3-D transmission. A 2-D image could be too precise for Eivaunee's peace of mind. A little of bit of blur could be useful sometimes.

Eivaunee looked around as he stepped down from the shuttle. Outside of the pool of bright light cast by the banks of stage lighting, there was velvet darkness. A light cloud cover obscured the small crescent moon. Excellent.

"Commander Dorlan," one of the technicians called to him. "If we could have you over here for a lighting check?"

Eivaunee went.