"I hear the roar of a big machine
two worlds and in between
love lost, fire at will
dum-dum bullets and shoot to kill, I hear
dive bombers and
empire down"
--The Sisters of Mercy, Lucretia, My Reflection
*
"Condition Harlequin," Armsman Gere said. "This building is not secure. We must leave."
Gregor's down there, Laisa thought. The sleek drop shuttle that had screamed past the penthouse disappeared into the rising water vapor clouds, followed by three of its kin. "Breath masks," she said.
"We have some in the aircar. Please, milady, now."
She nodded, hurrying through the door. Her father followed. He looked terrified for her.
"Ser, madame, if you will come with us." Casimir's senior man said, leaving no room for argument. Laisa's mother, a safety engineer by trade, already had her breath mask on. "The oven!" she said distractedly, rushing back into the kitchen. Laisa looked around for Alys, and found her with a mouth stuffed full of cookie dough.
"Don't wipe your hands on your—" she started, as Alys wiped her hands on her dress.
As two of the armsmen had a low discussion in French, Laisa was herded through the pressure door to the unmarked Imperial aircars. Casimir was carried into one car, awake and querulously complaining, while Laisa, her armsmen, and the rest of her family hurried into another. As soon as they were inside, Laisa pulled a child's breath mask over Alys's head, just in case.
They travelled in silence at first, as if worried that if they talked too loudly someone would hear. Ser Toscane stared through the tinted window at the shattered outline of the main dome, while Alys licked her fingers and Laisa fretted. "Where are we going?" she finally asked the armsman-driver.
"Safehouse A," he said, breaking another Komarran traffic law as he swerved violently around a building. "It's the furthest underground. Radiation-shielded."
"Right," she said quietly. Were they at war, then? And with who?
"If we're all working off the same contingency plans, someone from ImpSec should meet us there," Gere said. The armored aircar delicately touched down.
They were in a small alley near one of the sewage reclamation plants. The driver keyed in the autopilot on the aircar as they disembarked, surrendering it to Solstice's traffic control system. Casimir's party had beaten them there, and they followed the last of his armsmen down a flight of stairs to a deep utility tunnel. Gere slid a gate across the entrance once they were all in.
It was only a short walk down the tunnel to an anonymous side door, which opened into an even more anonymous storage closet. Behind the closet's shelves was a concealed door leading to a low-ceilinged, barracks-like room. The armsmen filed in, but Laisa hesitated at the threshold. Waiting patiently in the room was Duv Galeni.
She'd met Duv years before, when she was still living on Komarr. Many men were too intimidated by her reputation and her lineage to approach her, but he'd been brave – she thought. Over the course of a month or so, he'd impressed her with his keen insight and intelligent conversation, carefully cultivating her friendship. And then, one day, he'd led her to a very private room at a very private restaurant. There had been a man there, and a grave-eyed child upon his lap.
She'd wondered ever since if the man she'd thought she'd known then had been the real Duv Galeni, or if his real self hid somewhere behind the eyes of Horus on his high collar. He'd been the one to fast-penta her about Alys, with typical exquisite courtesy. A commodore now and head of Komarran Affairs, he was the fourth most senior man in ImpSec's internal hierarchy.
"You're alive," he said. "Good. Come with me."
"What about the children?" she asked, keeping her voice steady.
"They'll be safer here," he said, "but we need you now. Gregor's missing, and you are the prince's guardian."
"Presumed dead?" she asked. Her voice wavered.
"Presumed missing," Duv said with a frown.
"Where are we? Is this ImpSec?" She looked around. It did have that dismal look.
"One of the hidden sub-basements of ImpSec Komarr," he confirmed. Ser Toscane stiffened slightly.
"My parents," she said, looking back at them.
"They'll have to stay here," Galeni said reluctantly. He looked directly at her father. "We'll inform your colleagues that you're safe."
Laisa nodded. She gave Alys a quick kiss and squeezed Casimir's tiny hand before ducking through the half-height door Galeni had come in through. The security door behind that slammed shut after they went through with a final-sounding thud.
"Is that a safehouse or a prison?" she asked, unnerved.
"Yes," Galeni said. He keyed a security code into a lift tube door and waited for Armsman Gere to go ahead. Her second armsman followed behind, fingering his nerve disruptor holster. They went up about ten meters to another floor, and turned down a wide hallway until they reached a set of double blast doors.
A man looked up as the doors opened. "Excellent," General Rathjens said as she, Duv, and her stone-faced armsmen entered the nerve center of ImpSec Komarr. "At least we know where you are."
"Have you located the Emperor?" Galeni said urgently.
The head of ImpSec Komarr looked grim. "We've been combing through the surveillance vids of the High Consulate complex, although much of that network is unfortunately now down. The Emperor was stunned in the first minute of the assault, and I believe we can assume he is a hostage. Count Vorkosigan and the Imperial Counselor were taken alive."
Laisa absorbed this quietly, trying to keep her face a mask. Gregor. A cold fear rose in her – not just for Gregor, but for her children in a world without him.
"Damn," Galeni growled. "And everybody else?"
Rathjens brought up an extensive table of hundreds upon hundreds of names on the room's main display. "This is everybody who was residing in the complex or went through security this morning, to the best of our knowledge, color-coded by what we know of their status. Red is dead. Orange is stunned or captured. Yellow is unknown. Green is confirmed escaped – we have a few of those, but the carbon dioxide levels have risen to the point that the doors have locked, so we're not expecting many more. There's been sniper activity from the consulate roof against escapees as well."
Laisa stared at the display. Gregor's name was at the top – everybody else's seemed a blur. She forced herself to read down, looking for names she recognized. Cordelia Vorkosigan's name was marked orange. Localized swathes of red attested to the slaughter of armsmen and guards, but much of the rest of the long list was in yellow.
"God." Galeni shook his head. "Let's hope we get them all out, or we won't have a colonial administration left."
Laisa found herself a little nonplussed by Duv's Barrayar-centric phrasing. Rathjens raised his eyebrows too, but instead of commenting he looked past Laisa to her ever-present bodyguards.
"Armsmen," Rathjens said quietly. "With the Empress's permission, could you aid us in identifying your dead from our recordings? We've been having difficulty."
"Yes, of course," Laisa said at Armsman Gere's inquiring look. Her other guard was looking even blanker than usual, a sure sign that he was extremely upset.
Galeni narrowed his eyes at the display, reaching up and tapping at one yellow-marked name. "Lord Auditor Vorkosigan is at large, then?" he asked.
Rathjens frowned and chose his words carefully. "I'm suspicious of how he instantly dropped everything and ran when the shuttles went through the dome. I didn't know he could move that fast, what with that cane of his. His bodyguards barely kept up, but he does seem to have slipped the enemy's net."
"I can see you've never worked with Lord Vorkosigan," Duv said. "I'm not surprised. Are you tracing his seal?"
"The tracer circuit isn't working. I suspect he's disabled it. Whenever he uses it on a secure device it pings us, though, so we're tracking him that way. He's in the subbasement utility tunnels, we think. The pattern of activity suggests he is not a captive."
Duv nodded thoughtfully. "And Naismith got out?"
Rathjens shrugged. "Him? Unknown. The media studios are fairly distant from the intrusion point. The invaders swept the area, but not until long after he disappeared. As far as we know he's still in the building."
"So he wasn't a target," Duv said. "That tends to argue against our uninvited guests being Cetagandans. Do we have any idea who these people are yet?"
"I don't have any information," Rathjens said tightly. "Galactic Affairs said they'd call in ten minutes from orbit with what they know. Fifth Fleet command tight-beamed to assure me they'll destroy or capture the shuttle mothership imminently. The Solstice garrison wants to storm the palace right now. I've fielded other calls. Everybody is looking for information." He glanced sidelong at Laisa. "And everybody wants to know who's in command now that the Emperor has fallen into enemy hands. I've been avoiding the question."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop as Galeni turned slowly to scowl at his colleague and subordinate. "Under the new Imperial Succession Act the answer to that is quite clear, Abram," he bit out.
"Prince Casimir is two," Rathjens pointed out.
"And his mother is his designated regent. Confirmed by the Counts and Ministers in joint session, no less. Do you have an issue with this, General?" Galeni's hooded eyes blinked, lizardlike. Laisa's armsmen tensed.
"It's not me that's the problem, Commodore Galeni."
Galeni's frown deepened. "I understand. Nevertheless, the Empress must be visibly in control of the Imperium. Any other route - any other route, will lead to unimaginable chaos."
Laisa continued staring at the list of known and potential hostages, feeling numb inside. As Galeni finished speaking, she found herself the center of attention. All the men in the room were watching her now – some skeptical, some quietly contemptuous, some hungry for any hope she could provide.
Oh, she thought to herself blankly, They mean me.
She swallowed before putting on her game face and addressing Rathjens. "Indeed. Firstly, General, I'd like you to—"
Every vid-screen and holodisplay in the room shut off.
The armsmen instantly went for their weapons and Galeni froze. With a sick feeling Laisa turned to the door, wondering if anonymous commandos were coming now for her and her children. Her helplessness in the face of such a threat gnawed at her. But she was now the protector, she the one expected to defend not only them, but everybody.
Is this what Gregor feels like? she wondered.
With a soft chirp the holodisplays reactivated, each displaying a three-dimensional representation of the Imperial seal. OVERRIDE was printed above the seal in both English lettering and the old Barrayaran script. Half the screens in the room displayed similar messages now, while the other half showed a hopelessly garbled mix of colors and text scrolling almost faster than her eyes could follow.
"That's not us," Rathjens said heavily. "That's them. But how?" Both he and Commodore Galeni were looking extremely bleak. "If they're on that channel…"
The seal vanished. On the command room's main display, Komarr's ornate Imperial audience chamber resolved itself. She and Gregor had been there just yesterday for the private presentation of Gregory's Viceroys to Casimir. The room was decorated in the most formal Barrayaran style, all high ceilings, pillars, and intricate woodwork. She half-expected to see Gregor's decapitated body with "sic semper tyrannis" written on the floor in his blood, but there was no sign of him. About a dozen people were arrayed around the chamber, and the furniture had been rearranged oddly. Some were seated, some were standing, but none wore masks or made any attempt to hide their identity. Aside from one woman in colorful Betan garb, all wore formal Komarran suits.
In the center of the projection, Gregor's Komarran throne sat empty. Two men and the Betan woman were seated nearby behind a repurposed side table, one in Laisa's own ceremonial chair. A man and a woman stood stiffly to either side of the empty throne. The other Komarran men appeared to be guards of a sort. They wore body and bore lethal-looking weapons.
One of the men behind the table stood. Galeni drew in a breath.
"People of Komarr, your attention please," the man began in a faint Solstice accent. He was an older gentleman, perhaps in his sixties or seventies, although his dark brown hair showed no sign of gray. "I am Gil Obis, and I speak for the government of Komarr returned from exile, for the oppressed and the dispossessed, for the living and the dead."
"Him?" Rathjens said incredulously.
The man's eyes were gleaming. "Wake up from your long sleep, Komarr, and remember that a share in this world belongs to you. We have retaken our world from the powers that have so long oppressed it, and now hold those most responsible for our suffering in our hands. No longer will there be murder without consequences, disappearances in the dark. No longer will the rape of our world's economic resources to feed this malignant feudal cancer be tolerated. No longer should our families and friends fear the cold-eyed sociopaths who stalk our streets. They can be beaten, they can be tamed, and we have overcome them here, in the heart of their power."
Laisa's mind raced. So this was the infamous Ser Obis! She'd always been conscious as a child of the "missing families" in her exclusive social circle, the ones that had chosen not to cooperate in the Conquest or the Revolt and were now dead or fled. As primary shareholders, Obis, Jiang, Galen and Moretti were the greatest of those lost clans, though there were other scattered families that had been equally decimated. Ser Obis was one of the very few survivors of the pre-Conquest administration, though he had not been a Counselor.
She'd only seen his face once, when she was in graduate school, though he had looked much younger then. A colleague had passed her an extremely illegal little datadisc with an uncensored recording of him speaking against the Barrayarans on Escobar. Laisa had watched it a quarter of the way through before her fear of Imperial Security overrode her keen curiosity.
"I ran intelligence on Obis and his cronies for Galactic Affairs nearly a decade ago, on Earth," Galeni growled to Rathjens. "He's just a blowhard. I doubt he's the brains behind this."
"Does he really believe his own propaganda?" Laisa asked.
"Maybe," Galeni said. "I'm surprised he had the guts to put his own neck at risk for something this insane. His lecture circuit fees must be drying up." He eyed Obis's still-speaking image with ill-concealed contempt.
"It is our sacred duty to bring justice," Obis continued softly, "but as civilized men and women we do not seek vengeance for vengeance's sake. The monsters among us deserve a chance to defend themselves in their own words even as their actions condemn them." His chin rose and he sat. "Bring him in, Mr. Leary," he said with deep satisfaction.
Laisa stared intently at the visual, forcing herself to be calm. Not Gregor, please… Galeni's breath hissed through his teeth again as the cold-faced Komarran partisans escorted Aral Vorkosigan into the room. Though his House uniform was in slight disarray, the white-haired Count seemed unharmed. Vorkosigan's square, unlovely face showed no expression as he was forced to stand before Obis's table.
"Admiral Viceroy Count Vorkosigan," the man next to Obis said, drawling his foe's titles out. Perhaps eighty, the remaining wisps of his hair were silver and his face was heavily marked with liver spots. "Do you know who I am?"
"You are the man holding my wife hostage," the Count said flatly.
"I assure you, she will be treated better than you treated mine," the man said, leaning forward. "I am Lutang Moretti."
Vorkosigan's bushy eyebrows rose slightly. He glanced from Moretti to the Betan woman sitting at his left and they rose further. Laisa circled the display to get a better view.
"You seem to have rather overstepped your jurisdiction," Vorkosigan commented after a moment.
"This is not Barrayar anymore, Admiral Vorkosigan," Moretti said. "Indeed, it never was. This is free Komarr. All crimes against her will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law."
Laisa was suddenly aware that the command center had gone totally silent.
"And is that the purpose of this terrorist farce then?" the Count asked. He was doing a fair job of keeping an even tone, but his eyes cut with anger.
With a thin smile, Moretti ignored Vorkosigan to nod at his companions. "May I introduce my fellow justices. Lisa Dubauer has worked with me for fifteen years in the Tribunal for Interstellar Crimes on Beta Colony. She has been a tireless advocate for the voiceless victims of a dozen interstellar wars. And I am sure you know Ser Obis."
Vorkosigan crossed his arms. "You have not yet mentioned the charges you suppose to try me on, or more importantly your authority to do so. To my understanding you and Miss Dubauer have both resigned from the Interstellar Judiciary Commission, yes?"
Moretti glanced down at a flimsy. "This court will be addressing the charges of war crimes and crimes against interstellar peace initially laid in the indictment issued by the Tribunal for Interstellar Crimes after the conclusion of the illegal invasion of Escobar thirty-three years ago. Several amendments followed, and the fourth amended indictment was filed with the Tribunal in Komarran year 401. This current indictment covers the Komarran Conquest, the Escobar War, and the crimes against humanity committed during the Komarran popular revolt of 395 to 398 while the defendant was head of state."
The Count made to interject, but subsided as a nerve disruptor was aimed at his face. Moretti stared piercingly across the table at him "Vorkosigan, it has been confirmed that you were served with this amended indictment twenty-four years ago on Barrayar." His tone became sardonic. "You have thus had more than sufficient time to review the charges and seek independent legal advice."
"You are failing to mention that the IJC withdrew all of its libelous accusations against me three years ago. This maneuver of yours is entirely illegal under both interstellar law, and the laws of your adopted planet." Admiral Vorkosigan said in an extremely dry tone.
A flash of fury from Moretti. "For political considerations," he spat. "Do not think your government's strongarm tactics will protect you. There is a higher justice to which we are all held." He collected himself. "Your prosecutor will be Mario Albescu, one of the many children of the exile. Francesca Khatabi has graciously agreed to serve as your defense counsel."
Vorkosigan glanced at the indicated woman. He seemed almost amused. "Am I not to be permitted my own lawyer, then?"
Moretti smiled. "We have studied your customs, Vorkosigan. It is our understanding that a lord of the Vor is expected to conduct his own defense. We are offering as a courtesy. Nothing more."
"It's quite all right, dear," Vorkosigan murmured to Khatabi in a grandfatherly tone, "I'll manage." The corner of his lip twitched in faint amusement at her subsequent full-body flinch.
General Rathjens's voice had a rough edge. "The only redeeming value I can see to all this is that people will be too busy watching to riot in the streets." He curled one hand into a fist and uncurled it again, apparently unconsciously.
"History in the making," Duv agreed bleakly. "But we can't move until we locate the Emperor."
Moretti was still smiling. "Do sit," he said, nodding to Gregor's throne in the holodisplay. On Komarr it was indeed a throne and not a Barrayaran-style camp stool - there was a different sort of symbolism involved.
Vorkosigan's armed escorts drifted closer like circling sharks. The Count stared at the Imperial chair in mute dismay, and physically balked when one of the Komarrans laid a hand on his arm to pull him along.
"I would be pleased to sit on the floor," he started. As his escorts pushed him forward he twisted one arm free, tripping one of the middle-aged guards and sending the man sprawling to the ground. The other men swiftly overpowered him, forcing him into the seat. Finding his struggles ineffectual, the Count desisted, but his stare at the justices became utterly venomous. Obis leaned forward, clearly enjoying the spectacle behind a veneer of pious professionalism.
"Restrain him," the prosecutor Albescu said. He nodded to one of the guards. The guard came forward bearing a set of manacles, which he used to lock the Count's wrists to the arms of the throne. Vorkosigan made a low, feral sound as the second manacle snapped shut.
"General Rathjens," Galeni said, looking up from an intent discussion with a subordinate. "We don't have communications right now. I need you to personally take an aircar, find the on-site commanders, and make sure they don't do anything idiotic like stage a premature assault."
"We have no communications, de Gier?" Rathjens asked.
The indicated captain swallowed "We're undergoing a sustained infowarfare attack on all public consoles and our private networks as well. This broadcast is going out on all channels across all of Solstice and quite possibly planetwide. Somebody seems to have activated a Conquest-era Political Education backdoor in our systems using the Emperor's seal and our own transmitters are also compromised. All receivers are overwhelmed or nonfunctional, and we've temporarily lost our orbital tight-beam. The tight-beam is fixable, everything else is not."
"I need you there, Abram," Galeni said urgently, speaking over the Komarran broadcast. "They know you and you're Barrayaran enough that they'll listen to you."
Rathjens's eyes narrowed. "We let them have their show, then?" His gaze slid sideways, meeting Laisa's.
"We need more time," Laisa said with reluctance. "And yes, we need a man on-site, General. If an opportunity arises, we can't wait half an hour for a courier here. Though Commodore Galeni, perhaps you should…?"
Duv shook his head and looked very strained. "It can't be me. The army men are… conservative. General Rathjens works with them regularly. He knows them well and has a hope of getting them under control."
"Not if those traitors shoot the Admiral," Rathjens said bleakly, staring at the projection.
"Do your best," Duv said, eyes hooded again. Laisa wondered about their working relationship. They were the same substantive rank, but Rathjens was older and Galeni had only recently been placed above him as head of Komarran Affairs. Did Duv trust him? Could Duv trust him with this? Rathjens nodded to his superior, turned to bow deeply to Laisa, and silently left the room.
The continuing argument in the makeshift Consulate courtroom distracted her once more. Vorkosigan was speaking now, his tone laced with acid. "…I am just establishing to my satisfaction exactly what sort of court this is, Ser Moretti. Despite your Betan pretenses, this is a lynching."
"You have had thirty-five years to submit yourself to Betan justice," Moretti said softly. "I have been waiting. Vorkosigan, your cooperation in these proceedings is desired but not by any means required. "
"Are you going to repeat the crude threats against my person and household your people made in the hall?" the Count asked.
"Your master is as criminally culpable in the continued oppression of Komarr as you, Vorkosigan," Moretti said. "Everything you did you did in his name. All of your crimes reflect upon him. His failure to prosecute you makes him equally guilty under the law. In exchange for your full cooperation we will not make him answer for this."
Galeni drew in a breath. "Damn," he muttered. "Damn, damn, damn."
Vorkosigan's eyes slitted. "This is terrorist hostage taking, Moretti. A war crime, even, were you an army instead of rabble."
"Mr. Albescu, the indictment, if you please," Obis cut in.
The prosecutor stepped up to the table, turning to face the invisible audience of millions. "Knowledge of the crimes committed by Barrayar against our people has been brutally suppressed by decades of cruel censorship," he began. "We will now be providing the full text of the indictment to every comconsole on the planet so that you understand what we are doing here and why we must seek justice." A series of soft chimes echoed across the ImpSec control room as various comconsoles received the file.
Albescu inclined his head at the Betan woman Dubauer, who smiled brightly down at the prisoner. "Admiral Vorkosigan, unless you wish to plead guilty to some or all of the charges the court will enter a not guilty plea on your behalf," she said in a friendly tone. "If you plead guilty to the majority of the fifty-one counts, the court is willing to proceed directly to the sentencing phase."
"Betans," Galeni growled. Laisa had to agree. There was something profoundly unnerving about Dubauer's attitude. Moretti's hatred and Obis's clear contempt were much more understandable.
"I don't see that it much matters," Vorkosigan said. "You're clearly not going to permit me to call witnesses or submit documentary evidence."
"Admiral Vorkosigan," Moretti murmured, "the only witness we need is you."