The IS commander pushed past him. Sten's head reeled as the man addressed Ian. "Governor Mahoney, you will come with us, please."
Sten gaped. What the clot was happening? Why weren't they after him?''
"By what authority?" he heard Mahoney's voice boom.
"By the authority of the Eternal Emperor," the commander snapped. "You have been charged with incompetence in the face of the enemy. You are hereby relieved of command. You will be escorted to Prime World where you will be indicted... and if an indictment is returned... you will be tried."
Sten tried desperately to make sense of this. They must be talking about what happened in the Disputed Worlds. Admiral Langsdorff's foolish and humiliating defeat. He stepped in between the IS officers and Mahoney.
"But-he had nothing to do with that," Sten protested.
"Out of the way, Ambassador," the commander said.
Sten turned to call for help, wondering, even as he did, what fool would rush to his aid.
"That's all right, Sten," Mahoney said. "Let's not make things worse."
He pushed Sten aside. "I'm ready," he told the commander.
Sten watched helplessly as they shoved Ian against the wall, kicked his feet apart, and put him through a thorough, spirit-grinding search. Mahoney's hands were bent behind his back. The manacles were snapped on—so tight that Sten could see Ian's lands engorge with blood.
A moment later, Mahoney was being marched out of the embassy.
"I'll call the Emperor," Sten shouted after him. "It's a mistake. I know it. A terrible mistake."
"Just go home, lad," Mahoney yelled as he was shoved through the door. "Remember what I said—and go home!"
A hiss of doors... and he was gone.
Sten raced to the com room and pushed the night officer aside. He hammered out the code himself and punched the send button.
"I want to speak to the Emperor," he shouted at the official who finally took his call. "Right now, dammit!"
"I'm sorry, Ambassador Sten," the official said. "But I have been given explicit instructions. The Emperor does not wish to speak with you. Under any circumstances."
"Hold on, you clot!" Sten snarled. "This is Ambassador Sten, calling. Not some jerk-off clerk.''
The official pretended to scan a list before him. "Sorry. No mistake. The Emperor specifically asked that your name be removed from the personal access list. My apologies if this inconveniences you... but I'm sure you can get what you need through official channels."
The screen blanked.
Sten sagged back. The only thing he could do for Mahoney now was pray.
And this was impossible for a man who, quite suddenly, had no gods at all.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Mahoney's relief and arrest sent what little morale there was among the Imperial Forces into free-fall. To Sten, Mahoney was not just his mentor and friend, but the man who had saved his life back on Vulcan.
To Kilgour, a man who had little faith in officers, Mahoney was, among other things, a respected leader-he had been Alex's CO back in Mantis Section, years before he had met Sten.
To Cind, Otho, and the Bhor, Mahoney was an honored war leader and elder. If he had somehow offended the Emperor, they agreed, he should have been given a chance to cut off his own beard in council and await the verdict-rather than being escorted off by armed beings as if he were some kind of criminal.
To the First Guards Division, Mahoney was not just one of them, having begun his military service in their ranks, but their most venerated commander. During the Tahn war, he had been their commanding general.
Their current commanding general, Paidrac Sarsfield, had even been a company commander under Mahoney, back on a hellworld called Cavite.
None of them understood what mistake, let alone what nameless crime, Mahoney had committed.
Not that they talked about it.
The event, and the situation, were too objectionable for that. The soldiers didn't even bitch about what had happened.
Sten would have had to take some sort of action to build the esprit back up to a functional level-he was unsure what it could be-if there weren't a worse nightmare approaching:
The Suzdal/Bogazi invasion fleet, oncoming at full speed. There was no way Sten could see to stop the invasion.
Two elements kept their own council on the relief of Mahoney:
The Gurkhas.
And Fleet Admiral Mason.
Alex slammed into Sten's office, crashing the door behind him. The jamb splintered, but held.
"Ah hae," he said, sans preamble, "jus' decoded our marchin' orders. Except thae'll be none ae us marchin't. Eyes Only. Nae frae our clottin' respected Emperor, lang may he wave, but frae some clot i' th' Imperial office."
He spun the printout across to Sten.
It was brief:
CONTINUE MISSION AS OUTLINED. IMPERIAL DIRECT RULE WILL
CONTINUE. MAINTAIN PUBLIC ORDER.
"Wi" no suggestion ae how," Alex said. "There's some clot oot there gone sarky-an' Ah know who. Thae braw flyin't ray was right."
Sten wasn't paying any attention to Alex's ravings.
"So whae d' we do?"
Sten made up his mind. "Can you mickey the code log?"
"Wi' m' left foot. Y wan' a bogere message sayin't 'tis time t' haul, or what?"
"Negative. Too hard to back up. We just never received this."
"Aye, sir."
Kilgour turned to go. "Y know, lad. When we gie our arses off an' away, Ah'll no be servin't th' Emp. F'r better 'r worse, he dinnae deserve m' oath no more."
"Let's worry about asses and away first. That's unlikely enough to happen anyway,'' Sten advised in as neutral a tone as he could manage.
"Admiral Mason, I'm detaching you from command of the Victory."
"Yes, sir."
"I want you to take over what remains of that clot Langsdorff's fleet-and the escort ships that were left with the Guard's transports."
"Yes, sir."
"The Victory will be detached and placed under my direct command, as with the tacship carrier that made it back."
"The Bennington, sir."
"Thank you."
"What are my instructions?" Mason asked, still in that chilling neutral voice.
"We're preparing to evacuate all Imperial elements from Jochi and the Altaic Cluster. How that'll be done, with the minimum casualties, I'm not sure."
"What about the First Guards?"
"I'll be responsible for them, as well."
"Yessir. May I comment?"
"You may," Sten said.
"Do you really think you're qualified as a general?"
"Admiral, I don't think anybody is qualified to lead a retreat under fire, which is what we're going to undertake. But I'll remind you I've stumbled through one. During the war. On a planet called Cavite. Now, if you have any other insults?"
"No. But I have another question."
Sten nodded.
"What changed things? I thought the Emperor wanted the Altaics held. I thought this armpit had some great diplomatic significance that I'm not aware of."
"I filed an operations order this morning to Prime," Sten lied. "Saying the Altaics cannot be held. I've had no response. So I propose to proceed with the withdrawal. If the situation changes, you'll be among the first to be told.
"That's all."
Picket ships announced that the Suzdal/Bogazi fleet was three E-days from Jochi's solar system.
"General Sarsfield, if you're alone?"
"I am, sir."
"I want you to saddle up your division. Get all noncombat items wrapped and ready. Anything that's not absolutely vital to an on-planet combat mission can be stashed on the transports. What's the minimum time your division requires for a move?"