The Eternal Emperor eased back in his chair. Closed his eyes. Almost as if he were asleep. Mahoney waited a very long, very uncomfortable time. Finally the Emperor opened them again. He gave Mahoney a tired look. For a moment Mahoney could almost see just how very ancient the Eternal Emperor was.
"I'm counting on you, Ian," the Emperor said softly. "Solve it. Get rid of this Prophet for me. Get rid of Mathias."
Mahoney came to his feet, knowing that he had finally gotten the Emperor's orders. He snapped his best salute.
"That. sir. will be my extreme pleasure." He wheeled and began to march out.
"Mahoney?"
The Colonel stopped. "Yes, sir?"
"Just don't embarrass me again. Please? As a favor to an old drinking buddy?"
"I won't, boss."
"Being embarrassed is just one of those things I'm lousy at. Funny thing is, the older I get, the worse I am at it."
He looked up at Mahoney. "You'd think it would be the other way around, wouldn't you? You'd think by now I wouldn't give a clot."
"I wouldn't know, boss."
"Well, I do, Mahoney. I do care."
And the Eternal Emperor closed his eyes again. Mahoney silently crept out.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
AT THAT MOMENT, the prospect of exile on Pluto—or worse— was the least of Sten's worries. He and Alex were hunched over a com in Otho's castle, the coldest, grayest, dankest building Sten had ever been in. The two of them had been freezing their behinds off for weeks and trying to endure the worst food known to beingkind.
They had been notified two hours earlier to stand by on the com. Mahoney was about to issue his orders.
"It'll be tha gibbett, lad. Ah just know it," Alex said.
"No," Sten replied. "Mahoney won't let us off with anything as easy as death."
"Me mither always said Ah should'na be a soldier."
They froze as the com line crackled and Mahoney's scowling face swam into view on the screen.
"I've just been to see the Emperor. He is not pleased."
"I can understand that, sir," Sten said.
Mahoney softened. "Ah, well, at least the two of you are alive."
He peered out at them through the screen. "I tried to do the best I could for you. gentlemen," Mahoney said. "But..." He shrugged. It was the kind of shrug that did not bode well for careers.
"What do we do next, sir?" Sten asked.
"You don't do anything," Mahoney answered. "Just sit tight.
Don't get into any more trouble. I'll have a ship pick you up in a few weeks."
"But Mathias—"
"Don't worry, Lieutenant Sten. We'll take care of Mathias. By the time you're home, I'll have inserted another Mantis team, and it should be over. One way or the other."
"Sir," Sten blurted. "Let me do it. Give me back my team. Team Thirteen. We'll settle Mathias for you."
Mahoney frowned. Alex gave Sten a warning nudge.
"Revenge, Lieutenant? I thought we had trained you better than that."
"No. Not revenge. We just have a better chance. I know
Mathias. I know Sanctus."
"Can't take the chance, lad," Mahoney said kindly. "Among other problems, all the mining and exploration certificates were personally approved by the Emperor before Mathias decided on patricide. There's a whole fleet of miners heading for the Eryx Region. Straight through the Lupus Cluster."
"Mathias will kill them all," Sten said. "It's even more important that you let us handle it."
"I don't see how," Mahoney said.
"I have a plan." And he began talking quickly. Laying it all out, to an increasingly surprised Mahoney.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
IT WASN'T THE first time Ffillips had been dragged, restraints chinking, up from a dungeon by thugs and hurled to her knees in front of Mathias.
But, the woman wondered, as she did a body-tuck, side-rolled away from the expected kick, and came back to her feet, it could well be the last.
The late and less-than-lamented Theodomir's throne room had seen considerable change, Ffillips realized as she glanced around. The tapestries and exotic statues were gone, as were the pillows on the stone chair.
The vidmap of Sanctus was now shadowed by an overlay of the Faith of Talamein—twin hands clasped in prayer, centered over a bare sword.
Only the twin torches to either side of the map remained.
On the stone throne sat Mathias, wearing the newly official uniform of undecorated red Companion full-dress. Ffillips bowed her head respectfully and kept her mouth shut—a delaying tactic that had worked quite well years before at her court-martial.
"I speak in the name of Talamein," Mathias intoned.
"S'be't," echoed the Companions ringing the bare walls.
"Here, in the most sacred place, seat of the faith of Talamein, I, Mathias, chosen by the Flame as Talamein's True Successor. I charge you. Major Ffillips, in the absence of your leader the arch-antideist Sten. with treason. Treason againsl our State, our Faith, and My People."
Come, boy. Can't you find a more original charge than that? Ffillips thought to herself.
Ffillips knew it was most important to stall for time. Death— which is the usual result of a treason trial—tends to be long term and without much recourse—unless one believed in the hereafter. After service in twenty wars, Ffillips certainly did not.
Ffillips waited a moment, then lifted her gaze to meet Mathias'. Unexpectedly she fell to her knees. A low buzz of surprise ran through the Companions, and even Mathias was startled.
"I do not understand the charge, O Prophet."
"You will be apprised of the particulars, but they center around the assassination of our late and most honored Prophet Theodomir and your desire to overthrow this Most Holy Our State."
"Before you were Prophet, I knew you as a worthy soldier and boon companion. I can only suggest, most humbly, that these charges derive from jealous or misunderstanding underlings."
"You are incorrect, Major Ffillips. These accusations stem directly from my perception, my prayer, and my lips."
Umm. He wants us dead, Ffillips thought. Then she tried another gambit. "Since we are strangers to your system, Prophet, may I ask how judgment of the charges is rendered?"
"In the occasion of high treason," Mathias said, "the court is composed of church elders and the representative of Talamein."
Star chamber with a hanging judge. "Are the circumstances for trial the same for unbelievers as well as members of the Church of Talamein?"
"Major Ffillips, while the sentence could be the same," Mathias went on, sounding slightly unsure of himself, "the manner of execution differs. Those under the Cloak of the Faith are permitted an easier end." And his eyes gleamed slightly. If he understood what Ffillips was leading toward, this could prove him right in his decision and be an even holier coup.
Got you, you fanatical little bugsnipe, Ffillips thought. "I understand. But, Prophet, I do not wish to sound as if, are we indeed guilty, we would attempt to allay our doom. I was merely inquiring because of the curiosity that my soldiers and I have shown after seeing the bravery and nobility of those who Soldier for the Faith."
"What is your request. Major?"
"Perhaps... since I assume you will provide us with advisors to ensure that trial will be fair under the eyes of Talamein himself, who will come to judge both the quick, the slow, and the dead," Ffillips went on, "it could be beneficial if you could find the wisdom to provide us with religious instructors, so we might know more of Talamein and then reach a decision."
Mathias considered, then reluctantly nodded. That would slow the show trial, of course. But if some of the mercenaries would convert—a blessing. Also, if some of the lower-ranking soldiers find it in their hearts to follow the Way of Talamein, there might be a way for them to be spared and to assist in the training of his Companions for the jihad. But not Ffillips, not her officers, nor Sten—assuming the man could be found.