Patriot Star

By M.D. House

It doesn't get much worse than the prospect of a three-way civil war, and in a global superpower grown arrogant and complacent in its prosperity, only one influential man leads the peaceful charge against corruption and tyranny, while others plot more radical solutions. Council Minister Merak Dorvallen's allies are few, and now his youngest son

• Language: English
• Publisher: M.D. House
• Release date: May 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9781088144138

M.D. House

M.D. HOUSE is the author of "I Was Called Barabbas" and "Patriot Star." Before beginning his second career as a writer, he worked for twenty-five years in the world of corporate finance, strategic planning, and business development, mostly in the Chicago, Illinois area. Now, M.D. House lives in Utah with his wife, where he spends his time writing and enjoying his children and grandchildren. Learn more about him and his work at www.mdhouselive.com. The sequel to "I Was Called Barabbas," titled "Pillars of Barabbas," comes out in March 2021.

Book preview

Chapter 1: Trapped

"I hate politicians."

Mei’Shera Sunvail spat out the words to herself in a venomous whisper that was louder than she had intended, then growled only slightly more softly without looking around as she flipped up her sunglasses and stepped through the air shield with several other tourists into the humid environment of the Capitol Arboretum.  Inside the majestic structure, listed as one of the ten human-made modern wonders of the world, the glare of the late-harvest sun was softened by the milky skin of the structure’s shell, which arched fourteen stories overhead. She had seen park birds collide with that barrier before, thinking they were free, and she could relate.

She walked to the edge of the broad entrance landing, trying to ignore the bustle of people around her and control the growing tightness in her chest.  She barely resisted turning and walking back out, postponing the meeting, but she couldn’t decide whether that would be wise or just cowardly.  After a calming breath, she regarded her surroundings warily, hands gripping the smooth silver guardrail.  She wondered how many cameras were on her at the moment.  And for the thousandth time that day she wondered if any of Irrianon’s secret databases contained her image with an accurate link to her name. It wasn't likely, as she’d overseen some of the successful scrubbing hacks herself, but it couldn’t be completely dismissed.

This massive indoor forest, the crowning achievement of a visionary but naïve Dr. Somebody whose credit had been stolen by clever and opportunistic politicians, was universally considered the grandest in the world—hence its elite status—and it seemed even larger than she vaguely recalled from her last visit two years ago.  She could just make out the far end, more than a full darov off, and could distinguish through the trees only three of the nine other entrances lining its roughly trapezoidal shape.  Some of the trees, from myriad environments across the globe, surpassed fifty shens in height, and since the entrance platform stood just four stories above the inside ground level, it didn’t approach the half-height mark of the tallest trees.  It was all quite beautiful, she admitted to herself at some level just below conscious thought—the smells rich and clean, the colors vibrant and varied.  She took another long, deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment, a deeper part of her wishing she had time to care about such things.

But then she angrily shook her head to clear it and focused on the people.  There were far too many of them—a real jungle would have been better for this silly rendezvous.  The blithely joyous people were annoying tourists mainly, including gaggles of foreigners.  They spent their time milling about the topiary gardens; smiling, laughing, and pointing at the amazing flowers and vividly-painted birds winging overhead; or wandering in and out along the many paths leading deeper into the park … all as if the good life was a grand show and admission was free.  Fools.

She blinked finally, and then released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. What she was observing was exactly the kind of life she was fighting for—well, mostly.  The tacky clothing and general sense of apathy she could do without, but she still felt a sense of jealousy toward these people, who could take some time off, put aside their worries, and enjoy life. Someday it would happen for her.  Someday it would happen for her people.

Noticing her distraction again—what was this air doing to her?—she wrenched her mind back to task and called up the image of the man she was convinced she would loathe.  Why had he chosen this place?  And why had she let her father convince her to come?  Normally, she could travel Seraelin with little fear of recognition if she was careful, but mingling with this many people in one place, and potentially being seen with a man who would instantly be recognized by anyone who happened across them—well, it was foolhardy.

A touch on her shoulder nearly made her jump through the roof skin, and as she spun her intense scowl cut off the soft Excuse me that followed the touch.  A young man in his twenties, obviously a tourist by his cheap arboretum T-shirt and the ridiculous ear loop supporting a tiny spinning tree, backed up a couple of steps with wide eyes locked onto her in shock, then turned and hurried away, clutching his fancy, cutting-edge holocam in one fist and his sweetheart’s hand in the other.  He’d obviously intended to ask her to record a few seconds of them posing on the platform in front of the park, and she’d turned on him like a nap-startled chesga bear, drawing who-knows-how-many eyes straight to her.  Idiot!  She was pretty sure she meant herself when she thought that, but at least one other person was in the running, and it wasn’t the guy with the holocam.

Mei’Shera was sorely tempted again to leave, to forget this nonsense and get on with other business she had in the city.  But her feet were frozen.  Her father had thought this meeting of utmost importance, worth the risk of exposing both her and their people.  They had discussed the issue long and heatedly, and finally he had convinced her.  Now, having given her father a promise to carry out his request, she felt she couldn’t turn back, no matter what the risk.  No matter what the risk? Did that make her loyal and trustworthy, or a blind nitwit?

Resolutely, and with more than a little regret at making that promise, she moved to one of the wide lifts at the corners of the platform and descended with a flock of mindlessly chattering visitors to ground level.  She was the first off, and started quickly down a green-canopied path veering to the right, ignoring the splashing fountain with the spitting statue of a strange silver-blue fish welcoming her to the forest.  As the foliage enveloped her the rich fragrances of the arboretum became stronger, enticing her again to release herself to their embrace.  She studiously ignored them, though she slowed her pace and did try to appear at least casually interested in the scenery, like a normal visitor.  Likely she played the part poorly; her mother would have been much better at this, rest her soul.

It took twenty aggravating minutes of following a confusing order of seemingly aimless directions—followed precisely as they had been given to her—to wind up at the chosen rendezvous point, a wide curve in a narrow, uncrowded path that opened up to the ‘sky’ amidst what was otherwise impenetrable rainforest.  Delicate petals and dangerous spikes intermixed in a symphony of stunning and colorful beauty that rivaled any other place on the planet, contrived or natural—at least that’s what the info marker said.  Whatever.  There was a small wooden bench with a short back at the edge of the path, on which she sat to wait, knowing she could be waiting for some time.  People like the illustrious and mighty Minister Merak Dorvallen were accustomed to others waiting for them, expected it as a matter of course.  They even expressed amazement that anyone might feel inconvenienced by them.  She shook her head, muttering a minor epithet at his expense.  She already knew what he would be like, and it rankled her to have to deal with him, despite her father’s opinions, which were dusty anyway.  She silently resolved to listen patiently to what he had to say, if he ever arrived to actually say it, and then leave.  No promises, no commitments, and no buckling beneath his grand authority, which she didn’t feel bound by anyway.

An old man approached from her right, and she eyed him carefully.  He was moving slowly and leaning heavily on a weathered wooden cane, coming from the same direction she had come.  It definitely wasn’t the right man.  Upon reaching her he stopped, however, tipped his ancient, battered brown hat and smiled warmly, showing gleaming yellow teeth.  His breath was mildly stale.

Excuse me, Miss, but I’ve been lost in these Baromist jungles for nearly a year now.  Have you any idea how I can get back to Mervoth?  My wife, she will be waiting for me, and I’ve kept her so long already …  His aspect changed to worry, and a faraway look glazed his hazy blue eyes.

Mervoth was far to the northeast, and the vast Baromist jungles were on the other side of the world, though this area was supposed to be an accurate reproduction of them.  To any casual or not-so-casual observer, this would appear to be a confused old man experiencing a bout of senility.  But he had used the right words, and she knew what her response should be.

I’m lost, too, old man, she said, as close to kindly as possible despite wanting to slap him to release some tension and irritation, but I know there is someone waiting for you at the end of this path, wearing a blue uniform with a badge on it that says ‘Park Attendant.’  That person will be able to guide you on your way.  You’ll soon be back with your wife.  She smiled reassuringly for effect, wondering just how fake her smile looked.

Oh, thank you, thank you so much, dear girl.  The man, now beaming with relief—he was a terrific actor—gave her an adoring smile of appreciation as he grabbed her hand tightly, and she could have sworn she saw an actual tear.  You’re so kind.  Bless you.  Bless you, my dear.  With that he released her hand and shuffled with renewed vigor along the path, soon disappearing from view.  She watched him go, half confused at the charade, and then settled back on the bench, wondering when Act 2 would begin.

Several other people passed by over the next few minutes, none more than glancing at her, and then the traffic stopped—completely.  The Minister must have had the path sealed on both sides, probably by having ‘gardeners’ sent in to effect major maintenance.  He had the power to do so, most definitely.  She breathed a shallow sigh of relief and felt a hint of grudging gratitude.  He had claimed the meeting would be kept secret, and he seemed to be doing his part to make sure it was.  Of course, he was doing it out of interest for himself, too.  If he was seen with her and she was somehow recognized—actually, her not being recognized could be even worse for him—he’d have to spin some fast stories.

She had to wait only a minute more, and then he came into view from around the bend to her left, the direction of the ‘park attendant.’  Yes, it had to be him—a tall, hale, middle-aged man with graying temples beneath wavy black hair cut moderately short except in the back, where it fanned out and nearly reached the level of his shoulders.  His collarless silver-gray tunic extended down to the tops of his thighs, and he wore dark blue pants, well-cut and with a double front crease, though not overly extravagant.  The lines of his face were sharper in person, accented by a strong jaw and fans of small wrinkles extending from the corners of his penetrating light-gray eyes.  And he had presence, she granted him that.

She rose from the bench, but didn’t return the broad smile Minister Merak Dorvallen of the Council of Ministers of the superpower nation of Irrianon gave her from ten paces off.  She merely nodded curtly, unwilling to pretend amiability.  Undeterred, he extended both arms in front of him in warm greeting, palms up as if he were approaching kin or a close friend.  Just out of reach of her he let his arms drop and stopped to give her a long, careful appraisal, his smile changing slightly as a look of wonderment came to his eyes.  After a moment more of staring at her in disquieting amazement, he spoke, his voice kind and warm.  She cringed at what his flowery greeting might be, wondered if she would understand all the words.

This is remarkable.  You look so much like your mother.

Her façade slipped for a moment, and she knew she had briefly registered shock.  At the mention of the precious woman who had been lost to her forever two long years ago, the pain returned in a rush that nearly overwhelmed her.  Merak Dorvallen had known her mother?  Yes, she calmed herself, of course he could have.  He had known her father, though she had assumed that was well before her father had met her mother.  Her father hadn’t mentioned the overlap, but she should have entertained the possibility.

Minister Merak was immediately apologetic.  I am sorry.  I did not mean to bring back painful memories for you—her passing must have hurt you deeply.  I express my deepest, most sincere condolences.  Your mother was a remarkable woman—truly remarkable, and a fine patriot, despite our occasional differences.  He paused a moment, seeming to relive pleasant memories, then motioned toward the bench.  May we sit down?

Quickly regaining her composure, Mei’Shera noted curiously his measured and precise way of speaking.  She had heard some of his speeches, of course, but had expected him to speak at least a little differently in person.  Maybe he had rehearsed all of this.  She nodded cautiously and they sat, he on her left, leaving a comfortable space between.

You look different in person than I expected, she commented when they were settled, immediately thinking it a silly thing to say.  Perhaps she hadn’t regained full composure yet.

Yes, he replied with the beginnings of a chuckle, well, they always gussy me up for everything, make me look ten years younger and better-looking than I really am.  Not today, though.  Today I am just me—what you see is what you get, wrinkles and all.  He winked at her deftly as he completed his folksy chuckle.  He literally radiated warmth and sincerity.

She nodded with a smile only half-forced.  Who was this man, who unexpectedly seemed so familiar and disarmingly-likeable, who knew her mother and father, and yet was a complete stranger to her?  He seemed much like her father had described him, right down to that distinctive chuckle, which her father had compared to the sound of a lovesick maillen with the hiccups.  Absurdly she wondered if he could do the three-footed maillen mating hop.  Had she been wrong about him, too quick to judge?  Maybe.  Then again, maybe this was all a show—the affability and unfanciful air, the apparent sincerity and respect.  It wouldn’t surprise her in the least, not from a powerful politician.

I take it you’ve had this area sealed off? she said in a business-like tone, forcing herself to remain wary and on task.  You’ve taken all necessary precautions to keep this meeting discreet?

He didn’t appear surprised or bothered by her directness.  You are right, he nodded agreeably, we should get to the point quickly.  Yes, I have had this small area sealed off, have had a full scan run on the structure and grounds, and, just in case … he pulled a small circular device from one of the pockets of his tunic and pressed a tiny button on one side, causing the object to hum softly and emit a dim green glow from its center, … I have brought along an audio and video disrupter, set to a privacy radius of three shens.  The need for secrecy in this matter is paramount for both of us.

Thank you for the precautions, she said as he gently placed the disrupter between them.  Now, why are we here?

Well, he replied, apparently not at all nettled by the fact that she was taking charge again, the reason is simple.  Someone is planning to assassinate my youngest son, Coren.

It had come out smoothly until he’d gotten to the word assassinate—then his voice had become tight, and it had almost broken.  Surprised, she stared at him for a moment as if she hadn’t heard correctly.

Okay, she finally said in drawn out fashion as she tried to think. "Well … I’m sorry to hear that, but what does that have to do with me?  Haven’t you taken this to the Prots?  And what about your own security detail?"

He nodded as if he understood her confusion.  I know it sounds odd, my coming to you with this.  Normally, I would have gone straight to the CPF, but this is a delicate, unique situation, especially for someone in my … um, particular position.  He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, seeming to strengthen himself for what he was about to say next.  You see, he continued, those who are trying to kill my son are, I am positive now, employed by our own government.

Her eyebrows climbed as high as they could despite her attempt to stop them.  This indeed was a serious revelation.  She didn’t immediately respond, taking some time to run through the possible ramifications.  A man of his power and stature, with a government hit out on one of his children.  It was unprecedented, as far as she knew, though there were rumors.  If true, someone of at least close to equal power and status would have ordered the hit, and there were only a few very intriguing suspects.  She now recognized a whole new element of risk to being seen with him, and her original fears of this meeting returned in a rush.  She shook her head firmly and gave him her best faked look of pity and understanding.

I’m sorry to hear about this … predicament.  But we’re not the ones you should be contacting.  You have more resources at your disposal in an instant than I could gather in three phases.  And you already know who’s behind it, so—

No.  He shook his head emphatically, and then gently but firmly grasped her left arm as she was about to rise.  Please.  You are the only ones who can do this.  His tone was pleading, though still proud, as befitted his high station.  I do not know, exactly, who is behind this, and if I press any harder I will alert them and lose what little advantage I have.  Yes, there are people I can trust and other ‘unofficial’ resources inside the government I can approach.  But in mobilizing those resources I run a high risk of proclaiming what I know and losing my sources of information.  I came to you because your people are in a unique and advantageous position.  No more than a handful of people even know who you are, much less your capabilities.

Why not just blow it wide open? she countered, removing his hand a touch beyond gently before settling back, scowling.  What did he think he knew about her people, anyway?  Why not go to the press, she challenged, "let them start investigating every putrid nook and cranny of the government to unravel the mystery?  Something so juicy would give them lots of motivation, even if the path led them to the President himself—especially if it did, despite the danger."

Minister Merak shook his head, not taking the bait.  I cannot trust the media to save him.  At best I could buy a little time, and many in the press would claim that I was either doing it for publicity or due to paranoia.  He sighed.  That machine is well-oiled.

And you don’t even trust your family’s security detail? Mei’Shera asked incredulously.

He shook his head sadly.  No.  I do not.

Had she never seen a politician discomfited, she wouldn’t have believed what she saw then.  He was in a perfect box, desperate to get out.

He continued before she could summon a response, again meeting her eyes.  "I talked with your father recently.  He is a good man, and he told me somewhat of the capabilities of your people.  I explained the situation, and he told me it was your decision.  I insisted on meeting with you, and now I am convinced.  You are my best hope.  You must help him."

The commanding tone instantly infuriated her.  She stood abruptly, glancing around out of nervous habit.  Then she glowered down at him.  Maybe she had been right.  He was essentially ordering her to help him, despite the danger to her people.  He had no right, no authority, to do so, and this meeting was about to end, no matter how important it was to her father.  She had already fulfilled her promise to listen, and Minister Merak’s spoiled son be damned.

"We must not do anything, she said icily, no matter how important you think you and your son are."  She shoved aside a shiver of guilt at her own coldness; concern for her people took precedence.  Without waiting for a response she turned to leave.

She heard him rise behind her immediately.  Wait!  Please.  Beyond the obvious desperation in his tone, there was a humility which stopped her short, surprising her yet again.  Humility, in this man?  People in such positions of power seldom practiced humility, at least in her experience.  Had he taken acting lessons as well?  Most politicians did now.

She turned back to face him, letting exasperation fill her voice and flash in her eyes. Look, I understand you love your son, and I know this sounds cold, but he’s not important to us.  Trying to protect him from unknown, high-level government assassins would be a massive risk for us.  It’s not worth it.  She raised upturned hands to emphasize her point but hardly paused.  "Besides, we have plans for reconciliation—and we need reconciliation, not more enemies."

He nodded slowly, lips compressed as if conceding a point.  But then his eyes and tone reached a new level of calm intensity.  Unfortunately, things are changing, he responded, and for a wonder it seemed he inferred her as an equal. "Your reconciliation may not come in the way you imagine, and you will have to choose your … allies … carefully.  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and the entire garden seemed to go still.  This goes beyond the concern of a father for the life of his son.  The assassination of Coren—the brightest of my children and the only one to have joined the military, where ‘accidents’ are more likely to happen—would cause many who support our common purpose to distance themselves in fear.  They would know instantly that it was no accident.  You and your people might then find yourselves in even greater danger.  Your father knows this; as, I believe, do you.  His eyes softened as his voice lowered.  My son is very much like you, I think, from what I can see and from what your father has told me.  Difficult and stubborn … but bold.  His smile was wry, yet there was gentle warmth in it.  You will both be valuable assets to our cause.  Believe me, if there were a better way I would take it."

She blinked, and then looked away for a moment to think, arms folded tightly as if there were a chill in the air.  Blast it, he was right; they needed good allies, and their situation could get precarious in a hurry.  If it was true that the schism in the government was large enough to start generating high-level assassinations … all the pieces she had carefully set in place could soon be scattered to the five isles.  She nearly screamed inside with frustration at that.  But were their purposes truly common?  Was he the right ally, as her father now seemed to think?  It was all very confusing, and she knew she couldn’t let haste and emotion drive her decision; she had done that recently, with nearly disastrous consequences.

She finally looked back at him, schooling her face to serenity.  Her voice was cool and steady, carrying the authority of her people as she finally replied.  I need time to think things through, to check things out, and then—

Neither of us have the luxury of time.  The man’s suddenly stern voice stopped her speech abruptly, surprising her yet again.  He continued before her anger resurfaced.  "Your father and I have not always agreed with each other, but we both understand what is happening now, and we both know what we must do—together—against a common enemy.  This is a major step in countering that enemy, and if we do not seize this opportunity it may be our last for a long while.  Your people may not survive that.  We must act.  And then we can never turn back.  Never."  His words were accented by a strong sweep of his hand and a look that made her think of thunderheads just held in check.  This was the man she had expected … sort of.

It’s not as simple as you make it sound, she said tersely, standing tall and matching him cloud for cloud.

It never is.  You and your people have been waiting for a chance to prove yourselves … to redeem yourselves, even though your punishment was unjust.  Is that not correct?

Eyes narrowing, reluctant to admit he was on target, she nodded.  We’ve been preparing, yes.

He stepped closer, almost whispering.  You may be considered traitors upon your return from— He stopped short, and she felt a brief flash of panic—surely he didn’t know, did he? You need to prove otherwise, he continued smoothly, and this is your chance.  It may not be precisely what you were hoping for, but it will be a good first step.  I for one will publicly thank you, at the appropriate time, and will welcome you with open arms as a worthy ally in the cause of freedom.  His look grew distant—hopeful and nostalgic at the same time.  It has been a long time since we worked in harmony …

Suddenly Minister Merak’s eyes snapped sharply into focus again—she wished he would stop doing that—and he looked at her earnestly.  "You know the dangers this nation faces.  We must stand together, united, and assist one another, or we will both fall.  And we must start now.  Even your father sees that—partly due to the efforts of his eldest and most determined daughter."

Flattery wouldn’t work on her, but he was right.  It was ironic that her father had insisted on this meeting, while she had resisted.  Of course, it was the high risk of meeting with this particular man, of her people being discovered before they were ready, of being persecuted by a government and a people that didn’t understand their past, that had made her resist, but it was still ironic.

Okay.  You’re right, she conceded finally, but with a frown for him and her father both.  I—or rather, we—have been looking for opportunities to show our worth to this nation that is our birthplace.  However, and she raised a hand to halt any interruption, "I’m not yet convinced this is the right opportunity.  I will take this back to my father and our people.  We will discuss it, and then I’ll contact you within the week.  Surely you have a week, and a short one at that, seven days instead of eight."

Minister Merak shook his head firmly.  No.  There is no more time.  I will not plead with you any longer.  You must make your decision now, one way or the other, and I will accept it.  So will your people, who have granted you the authority to make such a decision.

How could she decide so quickly?  She considered herself decisive, but this was a momentous decision, a watershed for the lives of her people.  Inside her a brief but furious battle raged, emotions and logic on both sides hopelessly mixing until she wasn’t sure which side was which.  All the arguments ever posed for or against a return were joined by all the fears, long developed over many years of seclusion and exile, of the dangers any return would bring, and the hopes of what a successful return might mean.  Of course, she had already worked through all of this with the Elder Council many times, so the conclusion she reached was not unexpected.  And for some reason it felt serenely right, even if it amazed her beyond telling.  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  When she opened them again, she was calm personified, at least for the moment.

All right, she said, forcing her voice to remain level, a part of her stunned at what she was saying.  We will help.  At some point we must begin to trust somebody on the outside.  I’ve worked hard to convince my father of that, and it appears I’ve succeeded beyond my wildest dreams.  I suppose it may as well be now, and it should probably be you—if my father is right about you.  Was she listening to what she was saying?  Was it too late to reconsider?  A flicker of fear almost made her wince, but she held steady.

The relief that washed across the Minister’s face was controlled, but it was definitely there.  And he seemed to recognize that what he had received was not a surrender, but an agreement, which made it more powerful.  Of course, he was a fool if he didn’t expect her to hold him to a high standard of reciprocation.

Thank you, he whispered gratefully.  You are wiser than your years, worthy of the trust your father and your people place in you.  God be with you.

Mei’Shera shrugged.  We’ll be careful, don’t worry.

She was just turning to leave when a soft rustling of leaves came from behind the bench.  They jerked their heads in unison to look, and she noted a tiny hummingbird, seemingly righting itself from a collision with a small branch, then quickly disappearing deeper into the foliage.  She looked at the Minister, whose face was painted with anxiety.

We must part now, he said with urgency.  Hummingbirds do not run into things.  Here.  He handed her a small data disk and an odd-looking talisman, intricately-engraved gold and silver in two concentric circles, and then reached down to pick up his audio disrupter.  The disk contains all the details you will need, everything I have been able to find out.  And if for some reason you need to prove to my son that you were sent by me, just show him that.  He pointed to the talisman, which felt heavy and valuable.  And thank you.  Thank you, Daughter of the Sun.

He turned and started walking rapidly in the direction from which he had come.  She stared after him for a moment, then studied the strange and somehow exotic talisman.  Perhaps she really had been wrong about this man, at least in part.  She sensed in him a strength and nobility that people would follow at risk for a just cause, silly as that sounded.  If even half of what he hinted at were true, those qualities—if he really possessed them—would be deeply tested in the days and months ahead.  Of course, she still wasn’t sure how committed he was to helping her people, because the motives of most politicians shifted constantly with the landscape, but she had some ideas on how to make sure her people stayed relevant to him.  Silently, lost in her thoughts and with a surge of strange new emotion—fear, hope, determination and uncertainty, all filtered through lingering suspicion—she reentered the arboretum’s maze.

The plushly-appointed sitting room of the luxury high-rise apartment near the arboretum smelled almost antiseptic.  It had probably just recently been rented out—to the pompous, pedantic fool who had just entered and who now loomed over the three sycophants seated around a small table in the dining room.  Straining ears and eyes had relaxed, though none of the tension had left.  If anything, it had increased, and with good reason.  That brought an inward smile to Fenlock Exarmuth.  The three sorry excuses for men sat back in their chairs, eyes still locked onto the tiny oval box situated in the center of the table, a very sophisticated box with a holoprojector built into its smooth, black surface.

Did you get it? asked the officious buffoon of a leader impatiently. Did it work?

One of the men around the table quickly shifted his gaze to his superior and responded in a tone that reflected the utmost respect, even homage.  Fenlock’s breakfast shifted alarmingly in his belly.  A couple of minor bugs, Leader Caman, and the drone had a little trouble at the end.  But yes, we got both audio and video, even with the disrupter present.

Ah, good, said the leader in eminent satisfaction.  The Silokans make the most wonderful devices, and this latest model did not disappoint.  The best spies in the world—too bad they haven’t joined us yet.  I wonder if it would have worked even without those expensive scramble codes.  He was pensive for a moment, then continued.  And what was the purpose of their meeting?

Caman was right about the Silokans’ skill at spycraft—and at making money by their spycraft.  But he was an idiot if he thought the Silokans would ever join him.  Another of the three responded, Someone is going to try to kill the Minister’s youngest son—someone connected with the government.  He asked her to help prevent it.

Hmmm, said Caman thoughtfully, eyes intense as he probed the possibilities.  Fenlock’s inward smile almost became an outward laugh.  Caman was intellectually pretty bright, and charismatic in his own twisted way, but dumb as seaweed when it came to practical realities.  Ah, yes, it makes sense.  Using the military to put down the latest anti-corruption demonstrations backfired badly on our enemy. Now he seeks to create a powerful example for the other Ministers, and at the same time get revenge on the man he deems responsible for his embarrassment.  The plan might be effective, given a different adversary.  But our enemy has again underestimated the person he intends to hurt.  The Minister is a dangerous man—to us as well as to our enemy.  Remember that.  When will the hit take place?

The first of the three gave a quick shake of his head.  We don’t know, but it will be soon.

And who is the woman?

Now all three shook their heads.  We don’t know who she is, said the first.  "The computer can’t locate any identification on her, even in the country’s citizens database.  She acted spooked the entire time, so she’s obviously someone who doesn’t want to be recognized, especially by the government."

Hmmm, nodded Caman. She sounds like someone we might like, so long as she doesn’t side permanently with the Minister.  He turned suddenly, and the locking of his dark eyes with Fenlock’s was like the beginning of a duel. Fenlock refused to show any emotion, continuing to lounge comfortably in his padded armchair beneath a light haze of smoke.  Caman addressed him with a crooked smile.  Don’t you agree, my friend?

Fenlock shrugged as he gave a careless, arrogant smile, then took another long puff of his smoke.  He didn’t smoke often, but enjoyed it when he did, especially in Caman’s presence.  Their illustrious leader hated smoke, so Fenlock always brought the most noxious stuff he could find to these little mandatory get-togethers.

Caman was obviously perturbed, but still showed patience.  Too bad—it was glorious to see him explode.  Do you know who the woman is? Caman asked point-blank.

No, Fenlock lied after a long moment and another puff. Should I?  That inward smile was back, beaming brightly.

Caman frowned menacingly.  I would expect you to tell me if you did.  It could be important to us.

Fenlock laughed.  "Maybe.  She looks like a handful, though, and in more ways than one.  I most certainly wouldn’t mind thoroughly checking her out for you … boss."

The obvious mockery in his last word made the three at the table frown and start to rise, but Caman motioned them to be still without looking away.  In an icy tone he commanded, "Just fulfill the assignment I already gave you.  And make sure this assassination attempt doesn’t interfere with it.  The Minister’s son is as much a key to our plans as he is to the plans of our enemy.  Can you handle that?"

Fenlock rose lazily from his chair, tossed his still-burning stick onto the fancy tiled floor, then crushed it with his heel.  That and more.  Don’t worry.  He knew the cunning smile he had flashed would have made a rock suspicious, but there wasn’t much the others could do about it.  His assignment was vital to The Plan, and he and his people were the only ones who could pull it off.  Afterward, these simpletons would surely try to test his loyalties more fully, but by then it would be too late.

Chapter 2: Risks

It was getting darker earlier.  It didn’t really need to, not here, and normally it didn’t bother her, but somehow the signal that the day was coming to an end seemed too close an analogy to everything else she was working on.  Especially this latest assignment she had somehow accepted—a wild dog’s dinner if she’d ever seen one.

Tevo was there to meet her when she stepped off the train at the main city stop, as usual.  He was a good man, loyal and caring and dedicated to the cause, but she still wasn’t sure how she felt about having a boyfriend.  She was more of a loner, she admitted that, and having to deal with another person so often and intimately was sometimes a bother.  Her father liked him, and he was definitely handsome, but … was the timing right?  Sometimes she actually dreaded thinking about it more than actually dealing with it.

She smiled of course, and then accepted his hello and kiss with some feeling.  That part was certainly nice.  She only had a small travel bag slung over her shoulder, so she just accepted his arm as they began to walk across the platform to the short escalators.  The city loomed majestically before them, a marvel of colorful otherworldly architecture organized in its wheel-and-spoke pattern of broad, beautifully-adorned streets.  Even though it was so strange in some ways, this really did feel like home to her, and perhaps in a way it was and always would be.

But they would return to their homeland, with which she was just as familiar now.  And she was convinced she would see it happen.

You look really tired and preoccupied, Tevo said supportively as the crowd around them began to thin.  More so than usual, and that’s saying something.

She didn’t turn to see the smile she knew was there, but nodded. It was a very interesting day.

She could see him nodding out of the corner of her eye.  Well, we knew it would be.  And I can’t imagine what he asked you to do for him.

It’s not so much for him, but for his son.

Which one?

Mei’ stopped them both and looked carefully around.  There was no reason to mistrust anyone here, but she was always careful regardless.  They had just entered one of the spoke streets, a minor one.  Nobody was close enough to overhear, and inside the city proper the scientists hadn’t yet discovered a listening device that would work—another odd and amazing feature of this place.

She turned to Tevo and finally replied, Coren.

The military brat?

That’s the one.  I did some research on him on my way back.  He’s … hard to figure.

What do you mean?

She thought for a moment, and then shrugged.  "Well, for one, he’s incredibly smart, and yet in his officer training courses he passed some with flying colors and struggled in others—and not the ones you would think.  He supposedly wants to be in the military, but often sounds like he doesn’t want to be in the military.  He gets high marks in command exercises, of course, whether he deserves to or not, but those are the tests where he actually seems to try every time.  And when he’s on leave he can’t seem to figure out what to do with himself, or even how to introduce himself.  He’s looked into global military detachments, both Irrianite and non-Irrianite, but doesn’t really travel much outside of the country.  He likes his father and doesn’t like his father, admires him and resents him at the same time, and … you know, it seems like he just doesn’t really understand how good he has it and how well his career is set up for him.  Pure ingrate.  The son of a Council Minister.  He has it made."

Tevo nodded.  None of that sounds very surprising to me.  Hence my use of the term ‘brat.’  He’s spoiled.  And it sounds like you did more than a little research on him.  She knew he wasn’t being jealous, and she knew what was coming next.  You used the protocols, didn’t you?

She narrowed her eyes defensively and nodded.  I needed to.

Did the Council approve it?

"No. I approved it.  I didn’t have time to take it before the Council, and if you think the risk is high of using those protocols to get to the right information on this, the risks of actually helping the Minister and his foolish son are ten times as great.  There’s serious trouble brewing in the grand old superpower.  So don’t say anything to the Council about the protocols, okay?  Belatedly she added, Please?"

She knew that Tevo already knew better than to challenge her when she was so firm in a stance.  And, as usual, he just chuckled and backed off.  Okay, okay, huntress, I’m with you.  Your secret is safe with me.  He pulled on her arm a little to get them walking again toward the city center, and then added, I hope it’s not as bad as you say.

It is, she responded without thinking.  She was growing more irritated for some reason—or for many reasons—she couldn’t quite figure it out.  And time was becoming more of an enemy than it usually was.  This is big.  We used the protocols once before, as you know, on a limited basis, and discovered something serious being planned against President Akazhiel.  Somehow I think this might be linked to it, though that’s not actually supported by any of the hard information we have.

What do you mean? he asked.

She turned to look at him and could tell he was confused.  I don’t know.  I just … I know some big things are about to happen.  Some of it is based on the pieces I see moving, some of it intuition, I guess.  And I think we’re getting into the middle of it by helping the Dorvallens.  In fact, I’m sure of it, and it will either save us or kill us.

So don’t do anything.  Pull back.  Let it play out.  We can’t afford a big risk right now.

And that was it.  That’s why she had been growing more irritated.  She was still fighting it—putting up resistance to doing the right thing.  Two days ago she would have agreed with Tevo, but this was a risk they were supposed to take, and if they didn’t take it they would fail.  How was she so sure of that?

I need to go see the Council.  They need to know what’s coming.

"Now you need to see them?  After just telling me not to tell them anything?  What do you mean?  We don’t have any specifics."

Mei’ shrugged.  We won’t ever have the right specifics ahead of time.  But I can at least tell them generally what is about to happen, and we can start making preparations and contingency plans.  Things are moving, Tevo, and they’re picking up speed.

The wait to see the Council was infuriating.  She’d sent Tevo home forty minutes ago, since he really wasn’t needed for this and she didn’t want to lose her cool in front of him anyway.  What was taking the five Elder Council members—just enough for a quorum—so long?  They couldn’t reverse the decision she had made, could they?  They had invested her with the power to make it in the first place!

She’d spent the last two hours either sitting or pacing—sometimes cursing rather loudly—after delivering her oral report in one of the smaller deliberation rooms in the main government building.  Then she had been dismissed.  Assistants had offered her something to eat, something to read, something to watch, and even something to sleep on, which had really set her off.  She was anxious to be on the move that night, and she was sorely tempted to leave the Council to their silly deliberations and get on with it.  What could they do?  Her own father was on the Council, and she was the head of their small security force.

But still she waited, and waited … screamed in frustration and then waited some more.  Finally, as halfsky was ending, the door to the deliberation room slipped open, and five weary-looking Council members, including her father, slowly emerged.  Mei’ took a long breath as she looked at her father.  His face appeared tight and showed concern, but he looked somewhat less tired than the rest.  He smiled at her as he apologized.  Mei’, I’m sorry for the long wait.  We had many things to discuss, because the mission you’re about to embark upon could set a great many other things in motion.  We wanted to give you some direction on that, though it was long in coming.

It’s okay, father.  She could never be mad at her father for very long, especially after the heroic way in which he had carried on after losing his wife, Mei’s mother.  She still remembered.  I still wish to leave tonight, as I said.

I figured you would, he said with a tired twinkle in his eyes.  But there is an important addition to your mission we would like you to make.

Oh?  This was unexpected, and she was now surprised that she hadn’t had to wait even longer.  The Council of the Avre Tiera took no longer than most councils to make important decisions, but now it sounded like the deliberations were more complex than even she had anticipated.

Yes.  Walk with me and I will tell you.  They left the small anteroom where Mei’ had waited and entered the broad hallway beyond.  Her father turned right, which meant he was heading home for the night.  That was good—he had been working too much lately.

After a few seconds he began.  We have been doing quite of bit of research, as you know, particularly on the current leanings of the Irrianite Council of Ministers, and also on Minister Dorvallen and his family.  We have even been employing the protocols in some instances.  He paused for only a moment, and she didn’t react.  We’ve been watching other events as well, and we’ve been listening closely to all of your reports, whether we’ve always looked like we were or not.  He turned toward her and smiled, and she nodded with a slight grin of her own.  She had definitely wondered how much attention they were paying sometimes, and she’d chastised them for their seeming inattentiveness at least twice.

He took a deep breath and continued.  It’s all happening now a little faster than we can handle, but then most of us are too old and set in our ways and opinions to handle rapid change well.  At least we recognize it, which is why we turn to the younger generations for help and advice.

You’re very wise to do so.  She offered her own teasing smile, and then marveled again at how good of a man her father was.  That was why she had met Minister Dorvallen—she trusted her father, and she couldn’t let him down, not again.

He chuckled.  Yes, well, thank you … I think.  But to the matter at hand.  They had reached one of the lifts and stepped into it.  Her father voiced a command, and it began to travel roughly downward—none of the lifts in this building were either vertical or straight.  Coren Dorvallen is perhaps more important than we might have believed on the surface.  He could bring many advantages.

Mei’s eyes narrowed as they looked at each other.  She was sure she didn’t like where this might be heading.  What do you mean?

I mean, to put it simply, that we want to meet him.  We think he could help us.

She blinked, feeling her blood temperature rising.  Are you crazy?  He’s a member of the Irrianite military!

Her father’s palms came up gently.  "Which isn’t necessarily awful—it just means he knows lots of other people who carry weapons, which doesn’t automatically make him bad.  Besides, I see what you carry in that roving arms carrier of yours."

Okay, okay, I’ll grant that he isn’t necessarily bad.  But how do you propose to meet him?  And when?

He folded his hands in front of him, a look of resigned determination coming to his face.  We need to bring him here.

Mei’ thought she might explode—it was a miracle she didn’t.  Maybe it was the shock that made her incapable of exploding right off.  She was struggling to find adequate words when her father interrupted her thoughts.  Be calm, my daughter.  We have not come to this decision lightly.  And we took your obvious feelings on the subject into account.

Surprised at her own calmness, Mei’ finally found her voice.  But you didn’t consult me.

Her father nodded and took a deep breath.  I know.  We debated that as well.  Ironically, the fact that we knew you were in a hurry affected that decision.  Had we invited you into that debate, we would undoubtedly still be in the room arguing, and probably wouldn’t get any sleep this night.  He paused for a moment as Mei’ continued to stew on this new development, and then added, The vote has been taken, Mei’, and I feel good about it.  Please do what you can to bring him here.  We will understand if you cannot, as it will be a difficult feat to achieve.

It took several more seconds of stewing in her own juices to realize that her father had actually given her an out.  He wanted her to bring this spoiled scion of Irrianite aristocracy to meet the Elder Council of the Avre Tiera, but he would ‘understand’ if she could not.  It was a concession for not having invited her into the debate … and showed incredible trust in her.  Where seconds ago she was furious, now she suddenly felt an overwhelming rush of pride for her father.  That was followed by a flash of shame for being so angry, and then she nearly laughed at the strange incongruity of it all.

"Okay, okay.  Thank you, father.  I trust you, and I promise I will do my best to bring him here."  She was a little surprised she had used the word ‘promise,’ but didn’t worry about it.  Getting an officer of the Irrianite military to the City of the Avre Tiera without anyone knowing was nearly impossible, and as she fully realized that she felt much calmer about the whole situation.  There was still the sticky matter of trying to protect the useless whelp, but she would figure that one out.  It was time to get on with it.

Chapter 3: First Impressions

Freedom is borne on the winds of sacrifice, nurtured in the soil of adversity, watered by the wellspring of hope.  Freedom is for the strong—it is the weak who seek to destroy it. Why that famous ancient litany kept coming to Coren Dorvallen’s mind of late wasn’t a big mystery.  It had been repeated to him so often as a youth that he had finally sworn to himself that he would forget it.  But he didn’t really care anymore that he had failed.  The quote, attributed to a famous Founder whose name he couldn’t begin to recall, was one of his mother’s favorites and had been turned into a solemnly patriotic song more than a century ago.  The words hovered briefly in his consciousness before he brushed them aside as inconsequential to the moment, a nuisance to his thoughts.  He believed them, yes, in a distant sort of way, but …

He shook his head, trying to recall his prior daydreaming train of thought.  It had been pleasant, but it was gone with the cool, gentle breeze that tingled across his face.  He sighed, then refocused his eyes to look south across the broad, fertile farmlands below the small hill on which he stood, alone.  The undulating fields of green and amber were the famed farms of the Upper Dejev, known for their juicy golden apples, sweet-and-sour three-lobed crikberries, and long-tasseled kingwheat, the last of which made the most excellent breads in the world and had a small but fervent following among malt liquor aficionados.  It was harvest season, and of the five seasons—Winter, Spring, Summer, Harvest and Fall—it was Coren’s favorite.  While some fields were either already harvested or in process of being harvested, other fields, among them the kingwheat fields, would be left until the fall season, needing more time for their bounty to mature.

To the east and west, far beyond the rolling hills of the Upper Dejev, rose the mountains of the Twin Spine Ranges—the towering, jagged White Mists on the east and the squat but solid Solanars on the west—arcing up like the ridged backs of two very different animals to embrace and protect the bountiful southern highlands which extended nearly to Griandt and the shores of the Sigavo Sea to the south.  The snow-capped peaks of the White Mists were already glistening in a brilliant, serrated line as the sun scaled their awesome heights to strike the toll of a new day, a day that promised to be nearly cloudless.  It was a good day for harvesting.

Coren shook his head again, this time in exasperation.  He was turning into a blasted farmer.  He was a Lieutenant Mark 2, Irrianite Armed Forces, and had graduated near the top of his class from the IAF Officers University.  He should have gotten his choice of assignments, his first being the Foreign Expeditionary Force (FEF), also called the Global Assistance Force, which Irrianon used around the world to fortify the glorious global era of cooperation and prosperity which now exists (the words of the President himself).  Instead, he had been ‘chosen’—to keep him out of harm’s way, he knew—to stay and defend a homeland that needed no defending, not even from neighboring Prallia, which had learned its lesson in the early ‘50’s after trying to assimilate Mervoth and occupy a portion of the long-disputed Plains of Frengaris.

It had been almost ninety years since anyone had credibly threatened Irrianon, unless one counted the Mindmasters of Covann as a credible threat.  That had been over forty-five years before Coren was born, and had consisted mainly of a bunch of spiritualistic mind tricks for the gullible.  Irrianon boasted the second-largest population on Toryl at 350 million, one of the highest standards of living, and the most powerful and advanced military—nearly one million members strong.  If the world could be said to have a superpower, Irrianon was the most likely nation to be named.  And Coren was stuck guarding its crikberries.

It was the 30th day of Staron Moon, Year of the Dominion 4778, or 4,778 years after humans first began to dominate the creatures on Toryl.  The cool winds—and the snows in the White Mists—had arrived early, heralding an abnormally chill winter.  Of course, winters were never severe except in the high mountains, even in Irrianon’s southern regions, so he couldn’t complain too much about the weather.  Still, if home duty was all the top brass would give him, he would much rather be stationed up north near Realis, or along Sliver Moon Bay near the resort city of Tirenn—a city half-built over the water and the most fantastic place in the world to be if one was young, single … and recently unattached.  He frowned, wishing he was in Tirenn that very moment, dancing with his arms around one of the many young women there who loved a man in uniform.  He still had a couple of wavelink ID’s from the last time he was there.  Perhaps on his next leave …

As reality blinked back into existence, he ran a hand through his wavy brown hair and muttered, Stop it, Coren.  Buck up and … find the enemy of the crikberry.  He almost laughed at his pathetic joke, and then shivered in the glowing dimness of first light.  This was definitely not what he had signed up for.  It was called Patrol Training and Equipment Test—PTET—and was supposed to prepare him for the ‘real’ world while providing valuable input for military designers.  But patrolling the far southern sector wasn’t much of a test, unless the psychologists were aiming to see how long it took for extreme boredom to drive him AWOL.

There was no sign he was moving to a more exciting rank and station anytime soon, despite his successful aggressiveness in the semiannual war games … aggressiveness that had earned his Homeland Patrol Group—officially Victor Group—the nickname ‘Gamblers’ and himself as its leader the tag of ‘Wildcard.’  Oh, he’d make Captain within some appointed time, but not to a post he wanted, not to any place where he could make a difference.  And while he was regarded as a risk-taker in the war games, he knew that most people thought he would play it safe in a real situation—that he was just a spoiled political brat being entertained in expensive military fashion.  He cringed whenever he wondered if they might not be right.

He stared toward the developing sunrise a few moments longer, brooding.  Maybe he was being too polite about the whole thing.  Maybe if he lost his cool on base or in Griandt a few times … or if he left the base and disappeared for a short time after a heated argument with his Captain—yes, that would put a holy scare into the lot of them, including tough-as-nails Commander Jario, who would bite the lead off an old bullet if he left without leave and then seek his hide to flay it.  Jario couldn’t do anything to him, of course, and the inevitable press barrage would portray him as a frustrated, innocent young man from a powerful family just trying to figure out his place in life.  Poor boy.

That would be truly pathetic, and his limbs literally trembled at the thought.  But then he forced himself to breathe deeply and regain some semblance of calm.  He would have to cope.  Short of changing his name and identity, which thought had actually crossed his mind, there wasn’t much he could do for the time being.  Someday, though, things would be different.

He turned away from what was sure to be a magnificent sunrise, donning his shiny-white, never-to-see-combat helmet festooned with Victor Group’s distinctive green stripes as he walked briskly back to his HoverStrike.  At least there was one small perk granted by his surname.  He was one of the few land pilots, along with the rest of his ‘Gamblers,’ allowed to handle the most advanced land-patrol craft in the world—not even the FEF had the new and as yet not battle-proven HoverStrike model.  Piloting the latest HoverStrike was excellent preparation for flight school—and he was determined to be an air pilot no matter how ‘dangerous’ it was, no matter how hard they tried to stop him.  He would