Telemachus' promotion meant relocating as his new base assignment was near the capitol. Happily, the new residence met even Stasia's exacting standards for size, style, location, and overall floor plan. Mahala and Stasia's suites were in the same wing as the children's suites. There were three guest suites in a separate wing, which included a large dining and reception hall. When taking into consideration Telemachus' personal suite, a conference room, and an office, he occupied nearly an entire wing of the new home. Domestic areas, such as kitchens and laundry facilities, were located in yet another wing. At night, a magnificent view of the city's skyline could be had from the large windows in the spacious family lounge.
Because it was only a few minutes walking distance from the households of Galahad Rhade and Nikolaus Theros, both sets of families were pleased with Telemachus' choice of residences in which to establish his household. He could only imagine how consummately spoiled his children would become from the close proximity. In the week since they'd begun to move into their new home, his children already sported nearly new wardrobes selected by Brianna Rhade. She smiled at his protests, murmuring something about "making up for lost time."
Technicians were installing secured communication lines in his office while movers continued to deliver crate after crate of their combined household belongings. Telemachus couldn't imagine how they'd accumulated so many material items in several short years, and the weary faces of the delivery crew seemed to mirror that sentiment. At length, the noise of the installation process and the moving crew began to hammer a blunt pain behind his eyes.
Walking to the balcony, he observed the group below. He wasn't sure who had been more enthusiastic about the enclosed courtyard with the garden and pool with a fountain. Mahala said it was an excellent location for meditation while Stasia had already stocked the little pool with her iridescent fish that the children loved to feed. He rested his hands on the railing and wondered, not for the first time, what he had ever done to deserve the pleasant life he had and the special people who filled it.
He felt a supreme sense of satisfaction as he watched his sons experimenting with climbing the trees in the courtyard. They chattered happily like little primates, challenging one another to climb high enough to cause either Stasia or Mahala to make them climb back down to safer levels. Mahala was singing a song to Christiana who clapped her pudgy little hands with Stasia's encouragement when the song ended.
Watching the five of them was a pleasant diversion, but his mind wandered back to the catalyst that had put this accelerated series of events into motion. Granted, he had always aspired to achieve the rank of Admiral, following in his father's footsteps. He had expected the goal to be several years away, never doubting that he would prove himself worthy of such an exalted office.
He'd watched the security vids from The Righteous Fury, and received a thorough debriefing on the foiled assassination attempt on Second Triumvir Bonet's life. He'd regained the brief moments of memory lost due to his head injury, and conferred with a select few members of Argosy Special Operations. All indicators ultimately pointed to a member of Bonet's inner circle, which disappointed Telemachus, but didn't surprise him in the least. Politicians had a propensity to incite passions of all sorts within the general populace. Obviously, as popular as Bonet had become in certain circles that supported the continued stance on Isolationism, he had enemies who would like to see him permanently taken out of commission. This troubled Telemachus on a number of levels, both personal and professional.
He held great admiration for the man who was also a close friend of his father's. Bonet had been a guest in his father's house on many occasions, and once had even accompanied Telemachus and his father on a camping trip. Bonet was human, but held an almost Nietzschean regard with respect to the solemn duty for guardianship of Terazed. He was one of the founders of the Isolationist movement, and Telemachus held a deep suspicion that this was the reason for the attempt on his life. On many occasions, Telemachus had heard Bonet emphatically declare that it was vital to the continued safety and longevity of Terazed's citizens—present and future – that they remain tucked away in the far corner of the universe, unheralded and unnoticed by the many threats that existed. Attacks from the fierce Drago-Kasov Pride, the ruthless Magog, and a host of other enemies were of little concern to the casual citizen. The Isolationists enjoyed the continued era of peace and intended to keep things that way.
There remained a greater portion of the population, primarily romantics and dreamers, who awaited the messianic appearance of the legendary Dylan Hunt and the High Guard warship Andromeda Ascendant. More than three hundred years past, during the early days of the Fall of the Commonwealth, Sara Riley had become an archetype of the ancient Earth Patriarch named Noah. She had tried, and failed in the attempt, to free the Andromeda from the Hephaistos System where it was frozen in the insistent hold of a black hole's event horizon. Knowing that some day, the ship would eventually break orbit of its own accord, or be pulled free by some other means, she knew that Dylan Hunt was a man of many passions who would be able to resurrect the fallen Commonwealth. She had gathered whatever remnants of the Andromeda's surviving crew and their families that she could locate. Adding to that number the crew and families of her own ship, Starry Wisdom, they had set out to find a safe place to colonize and wait until such time as Dylan would find them and begin to restore the Commonwealth. To her dying day, she remained convinced that there would be a glorious dawn in which the old Commonwealth would be reborn.
Like every other child born on Terazed, Telemachus was raised on stories of Dylan Hunt and the Commonwealth's inevitable rebirth under his leadership. As an adult, he found the story to be stretched beyond reasonable proportion as happens in most myths. Dylan Hunt had ceased to be an ordinary man and had achieved a godlike status in the minds of many. Telemachus didn't stand within that number of believers.
Nevertheless, he felt an ambiguous connection to Dylan Hunt and the legendary warship. His own direct ancestor, Commander Gaheris Rhade, had served with Hunt as his executive officer. Moreover, Gaheris had been aboard and on duty when the Nietzschean Rebellion had erupted over discontent from the major Nietzschean prides because of an uneasy peace struck between the Magog and the Commonwealth through the Treaty of Antares. Conflicting stories alternately labeled Gaheris a hero or a traitor by the end of the incident. Either way, Gaheris had died more than three hundred years ago, and dead men told no tales of glory or defeat. Telemachus hoped that Dylan Hunt had survived as Sara Riley had predicted; he had questions that only Dylan Hunt could answer.
Whether that day ever came was immaterial at the moment to Telemachus. The laughing shrieks of his children at play caused him to focus on the situations at hand. He leaned heavily on the railing and watched them scamper about while he took a mental inventory of the facts relating to the incident on The Righteous Fury.
Lieutenant Zeff Brand would have had a promising career ahead of him. A gregarious human, he exuded absolute pride at being selected as a member of Triumvir Bonet's honor guard. In a thousand years, Telemachus would never be convinced that the cheerful young man was the assassin they were seeking. He wondered how the lieutenant had been selected to become the scapegoat for the attempt on the Triumvir's life. Those behind the plot couldn't have selected a less believable candidate to be the instrument of their destruction, or perhaps that was precisely what they banked on. When cut, Brand bled Commonwealth blue. He was a model lancer who would have died of shame rather than dishonor the noble ideals heralded by the uniform he proudly wore.
Brand's force-lance had overloaded and violently discharged onboard The Righteous Fury. Telemachus remembered the high-pitched twang and faint scent of ozone that his enhanced senses detected scant moments before the explosion. Brand's eyes locked with his captain's in a moment of horror as the younger man realized what was going to happen. With a cry, he reacted in a manner that was either brave or monumentally foolish. Rather than hurl away the overloading force-lance, he instead lunged away from the Triumvir, the weapon still holstered on his thigh. Telemachus threw himself between the Triumvir and the lieutenant at the last possible instant, but didn't have the luxury of time or space to put them completely free of the blast.
When the smoke cleared, Bonet was shaken and stunned by what had just happened. Blood obscured Telemachus' vision and Brand lay several yards away, the stench of death already coalescing over his still form. Telemachus growled in anger as the blackness took him.
As he expected, Brand's untimely demise was explained to the family and public sector as an accident. While a cloud lingered over the circumstances, "weapon malfunction" was officially listed as the primary cause of his death. A select few knew the truth of the matter; evidence had been found that proved the force-lance had been tampered with, and a remote control device had been located in a recycling unit. Telemachus took the ordeal as a personal offense and had vowed to arrive at the heart of the matter. He would dispense the harshest degrees of justice allowable when the responsible parties were revealed. Zeff Brand had died on his watch; the death would not go unpunished.