Scattered Suns - Kevin J. Anderson [29]
Attender kithmen moved his chrysalis chair to give the imagers a full view. The Designate raised a hand, and two of his brainwashed guards dragged the groggy primary protocol officer into view. He had not yet fully recovered from the effects of being stunned. “This one will be first.”
Zan’nh observed with growing alarm. How far would Rusa’h carry this mockery? “Uncle, wait! Allow me to—”
The Hyrillka Designate gestured calmly and sat back in his cushions. The two guards slid crystal blades from jeweled sheaths at their sides, then moved with mechanical efficiency. One stabbed the protocol officer in the chest. The other drew the sharp edge along his throat. Arterial blood poured out in a foaming stream. The two guards released the body, letting the dead man slump to the deck plates. They stood back, their uniforms splashed with Ildiran blood.
Zan’nh gasped. Two of his officers in the command nucleus became noisily ill. “You...you have killed—”
By commandeering the imaging network, Rusa’h had transmitted the gruesome scene to every crewmember aboard all forty-seven warliners. “In another three minutes, I will execute a second victim. I should point out that as the effects of the stunners begin to wear off, the hostages will feel the agony of death more acutely. The reaction through the thism will then be more painful to all of you.”
“Stop this!” Zan’nh demanded.
“You know how to stop it, Adar. I urge you not to let the slaughter continue.” His voice was bland, smug.
On a private channel, Zan’nh demanded of his security crew, “How soon can you break through?”
“At least a standard hour. This is solid metal plating.”
“Bekh!” The fist squeezed tighter in Zan’nh’s chest, and his mind raced for options. Through the thism, his father would be able to sense the danger, but not the details...only that something was wrong. He wished Adar Kori’nh could be there to give him advice. What would his mentor have done? How could he put an end to this? Designate Rusa’h was insane!
Three minutes thundered by.
Zan’nh had intimidated human skyminers. He had traveled to disaster-stricken colonies, and he had performed intricate war-game maneuvers. He had fought hydrogues. But this hostage situation, the cold and blatant threat of murder after murder, had paralyzed him as if he were no more than a novice. Zan’nh had heard of wild, irrational behavior by human heroes and madmen, but never an Ildiran. He had no experience with incomprehensible situations like this.
In spite of such heinous, inconceivable behavior, the Hyrillka Designate was still the Mage-Imperator’s brother. He was still an Ildiran.
But Zan’nh did not dare allow the rebellious Designate to seize these warliners. What did Rusa’h intend to do with the ships, that he was willing to commit murder to gain them? Without fresh victims, though, Rusa’h would have no leverage. To prevent greater failure, should Zan’nh just coldly sacrifice all seventy hostages, let the Designate and his rebels slaughter them?
How could he live with that, stand by and do nothing? He was the Adar of the Solar Navy! Those hostages were his loyal soldiers. He had led them into battle against the hydrogues at Hrel-oro. After they had been hammered by the enemy aliens and suffered the devastating loss of an entire warliner, Zan’nh had brought them to Hyrillka so they could regain their strength and confidence. How could he fail again? How could he abandon them?
“It is time for your second lesson,” the Designate said. “You have wasted time, and three minutes pass so swiftly.”
Zan’nh shouted into the speaker. “No! Let me send in an aide to discuss your demands—”
Rusa’h was not interested in listening. “There is nothing to discuss, nothing to negotiate. I have been perfectly clear.” His followers dragged forward a struggling female guard this time. “Eventually you will learn, Adar. You have always been intelligent, nephew, though deluded by the Mage-Imperator.”