Star Wars_ X-Wing 09_ Starfighters of Adumar - Aaron Allston [108]
“So we kill him,” said one of the Halbegardian elites, but others turned to look at the flatscreens showing multiple images. It was evident to Wedge, from the way those shown in the flatscreens were intensely watching, that the images of the events taking place in this chamber were being broadcast to them.
One of the figures in one of the smaller flatscreen squares, a gray-haired woman with broad shoulders and an authoritarian bearing, spoke; her voice emerged from the flatscreen speakers. “No. Pekaelic can only be condemned by a council of his peers, and that is not the problem before us now.”
Wedge leaned over to whisper in Cheriss’s ear. “What happens if Pekaelic dies?”
“He has not named a successor. The council of nobles of Cartann would choose his successor. Some of the nations held in Cartann’s grip would probably take the opportunity to break away. There would be much confusion …”
“I see.” Wedge raised his voice. “Perator, let’s speak simply. No diplomatic nonsense. If you persist in this posture and get yourself killed, your enemies will celebrate, but Cartann and its holdings become disorganized for a while. Long enough for the Empire to see that you’re not going to be joining them willingly. Long enough for the Empire to send a fleet large enough to blow the Allegiance out of space and then pound your whole planet flat. In a week, you’ll all be slaves, or worse. And where’s the honor in that?”
“There is none,” the perator said. “But I will still not surrender. I have never surrendered. It is not within me.”
Wedge sighed, exasperated. Then a new thought occurred to him. “Could you retire?”
“What?”
“Retire. Without shame. Not surrender, not bow to your enemies. Just … quit.”
“Abdicate.” The perator considered. “I could honorably grant the throne to one of my sons. But my sons are pilots.” His expression turned bleak. “After today, I don’t even know if they are still alive.”
“I suggest you find out.” Wedge took a step back to give the perator space.
A minister was allowed to join the perator, then to go, with Halbegardian guards, to one of the palace’s comm centers.
“Royal heirs are always in danger,” Cheriss told Wedge. “At least in Cartann. They are usually raised away from their true parents, under assumed names, to keep them safe.”
Wedge grimaced. “So they can’t even be children to their living parents. Cheriss—”
“Don’t say it. I can see that it is bad.”
He pulled out his comlink and activated it. “Red Leader to Eye Three. Update, please.” He turned the volume down and held it between his ear and his cupped hand.
“Except for a couple of minor skirmishes, the air battle is done,” Iella said. “Cartann Blades are landing in fields all over the place under the lasers of the united force. But, more important, the Cutting Lens-class sensor ships showed one of the Star Destroyers, presumably Agonizer, leaving orbit. It left behind a small vehicle, which I’m tentatively identifying from a visual scan as a Standard Imperial shuttle. It’s descending toward Cartann City.”
Wedge felt a surge of triumph. “Have a couple of Blades escort it in, all the way to the palace. I’m pretty sure it’s a friendly.”
“Will confirm and do so.”
“Thanks. Red Leader out.”
Minutes later, the minister returned and hurried to the perator’s side. The words he whispered to his ruler were good ones; the perator sagged for a moment, in what was obviously relief, then straightened. He beckoned Wedge to him, ignoring all others in the chamber.
“My sons survive,” he said. “My oldest is being brought here now.”
“Congratulations,” Wedge said.
The perator gave him a close look. “Well done. I couldn’t even detect the mockery.”
“I didn’t offer you any, perator. I think you should be punished for what you’ve done … but I’d never wish on anyone a punishment as severe as the loss of his children.”
“Ah.” Though he did not step back, the perator retreated, his thoughts and concerns