Death in Winter - Michael Jan Friedman [91]
Now he was calling for the people to oust her. Unacceptable, Tal’aura thought, to say the least. While she had eschewed the use of force to that point, she would now have to use force such as the capital had seldom seen.
Abruptly, the com device in her hand began chiming. She pressed a stud on it and said, “Yes?”
It was the commander of her troops in the capital. He asked her if she was monitoring Braeg’s speech. She said that she was.
“I beg you, Praetor, allow me to cut him and his movement to pieces, while I still can.”
Tal’aura gazed some more at the image of Braeg on the viewscreen. He was leaving her no choice but to eliminate him.
“You have my permission,” she replied.
“Thank you,” said the commander. “Long live the Empire.”
The praetor had no doubt that the Empire would survive. Her reign was another matter entirely.
15
KITO HADN’T BEEN ABOVEGROUND IN DAYS. BUT then, he had been standing vigil with Hanafaejas and the others, waiting for Doctor Greyhorse to give them what they needed.
Now, amazing as it seemed, he carried it in a pack slung over his shoulder-two hundred tiny vaccination kits donated by the owner of a medical supply house, and two hundred even tinier tubules of vaccine to go with them.
Kito could have lugged more, but he didn’t want to arouse Sela’s suspicions. Better to give the vaccine out little by little than to see the process grind to a halt.
The plan was to reach everyone in the city by nightfall, and Kevratas’s other cities over the next few days. In a week’s time, people would stop dying. And in another week, even the worst affected would be back on their feet.
After they had endured so much, it seemed too good to be true. But Greyhorse was the one who had assured them of the timetable, and he appeared to know what he was doing.
As Kito understood it, the doctor had used his own genetic material in creating the vaccine. In a way, that meant every Kevrata on the planet would have a piece of Greyhorse inside him.
A lasting tribute, the rebel thought, to one who has done so much for us.
Then he stopped by the first house on his appointed route, a place not far from the alley where he had hidden from the Romulan hovercraft. Pounding on the door, he waited for the occupant to answer. A moment later, he heard a response from within.
“Please go away. We are afflicted in this house.”
They didn’t want to expose him to the virus if he hadn’t been afflicted already. But just the day before, Kito had seen bumps on his hands. He had nothing to lose.
And the people within had everything to gain.
“It is all right,” he told them. “I have something that can help you with your affliction.”
A moment later, the door opened. The female standing beside it was suffering from an advanced stage of the disease, the bumps having spread to her face. Her eyes were dull with hopelessness.
“Nothing can help me,” she said.
“Never spurn generosity,” said Kito, quoting an old Kevratan saying. “If you let me in, I can tell you more.”
The female hesitated, loath to open herself to disappointment on top of everything else. But in the end, she stepped aside and let him in.
It was time.
Donatra stood on the bridge of her ship, just in front of her command seat, and studied her forward viewscreen. It showed her a sweep of black space with Tomalak’s force of some sixty warbirds emblazoned on it.
They were ready for her. And without a doubt, Tomalak was an accomplished tactician. However, Donatra felt good about her chances, and she had never been wrong in that regard before. She and her fleet would prevail, bringing Romulus out of its latest dark age into an enduring light.
“Give me a link to Commander Suran,” she told her communications officer.
A moment later: “Link established, Commander.”
“Suran here,” said Donatra’s mentor. “Is this what I think it is?”
“By now, Braeg has made his speech in Victory Square. But it will ring hollow if we do