Traitor's Sun

  Belfontaine, wanted to be the man who destroyed Cottman's Protected status and

  brought them into the Federation, where their rightful masters would make them

  toe the line!

  It troubled him deeply that they had managed to resist thus far, for it flew in

  the face of what little he really believed in. These were simple things-duty,

  loyalty and obedience-and beyond that, Belfontaine knew that the destiny of the

  Federation was to control completely the lives of several trillion people spread

  over hundreds of planets. Anything less was unacceptable and virtually

  unthinkable. The Federation was the best structure to keep things running

  smoothly and efficiently, which to him meant that the huge corporations, like

  Belfontaine Industries, could do as they wished, to survive and show a profit.

  He had learned that almost as soon as he could walk, and nothing had ever

  dislodged the idea from his mind.

  He was aware that sometimes this caused pain and suffering. But, in the larger

  view, it did not matter to him if a few million backward, ignorant people

  starved to feed those trillions on more developed and enlightened planets.

  People were a disposable commodity, after all. Not, he felt, people like

  himself, who were born to make important decisions and shape the future. It was

  the farmers and merchants and soldiers-the faceless masses-who were unimportant.

  Even local bigwigs like Regis Hastur were disposable. If he could just get rid

  of that self-important little man, he could probably take out the rest of them

  pretty easily.

  Lyle sighed. As delightful as the idea of placing an explosive device under

  Comyn Castle and blowing it into well-deserved smithereens was, he knew better

  than to attempt it. Even in its present state of disarray, the Federation was

  not so disordered that questions would not be asked, a Board of Inquiry seated,

  and probably disgrace to follow, if such an event took place. It would be

  impossible to blame the thing on the locals themselves-their technology was not

  up to the job. No one would believe that one of the natives had gotten into HQ,

  stolen a shaped charge and timer, and gained the knowledge to use it properly.

  There were a couple of them, like Captain Rafael Scott, who had had a free run

  of HQ for decades before he resigned, who might, but even he could not imagine

  anyone believing that Scott would do such a thing. He had taken that route once,

  and learned his lesson. There had to be another way. He just hadn't thought of

  it yet.

  The chime on the door rang softly, and he looked up, annoyed by the

  interruption. "Enter," he snapped.

  A tall, broad-shouldered man stood in the doorway, leathers gleaming. He came in

  with an easy grace that Belfontaine envied, and his six foot frame never failed

  to remind him of how short he himself was. It was Miles Granfell, his second in

  Information, and his principal agent in fomenting discord on Cottman. He was

  shrewd and capable, but rather too ambitious for comfort, and Lyle did not

  entirely trust him. Still, he managed to smile brightly for the sake of

  appearances.

  "So, what is going on?" Granfell was never one for chitchat and pleasantries, a

  trait that Belfontaine appreciated. It was a waste of time to ask how one was.

  And, very likely, he already knew the contents of the crumpled official

  communication, but wanted to pretend to ignorance for his own reasons.

  "Unless we can convince Hastur to come into the Federation as a full member, we

  have thirty days to pull out of here."

  "Is it worth trying?"

  "I don't think so, but I will summon Lewis Alton tomorrow or the next day and

  give it one last attempt. I wish I could get to Hastur directly, but that seems

  to be impossible. And since the Federation is tied up with other problems, we

  can't get much support right now."

  "Tied up?"

  "It seems that the dissolution of the legislature has not been received well,

  and some of the member worlds are showing signs of revolt. This whole thing was

  ill-planned, and I can't help wonder if Premier Nagy knows what she is doing.

  That's what comes of putting a woman in charge! They are far too emotional for

  the job of governing."

  Granfell nodded. "If only we had been able to get a new lease on the port lands

  before this happened, our position here would be much better."

  "Well, we didn't. And this iceball is hardly worth the effort. They have never

  really traded with the Federation, and Hastur's resistance to accepting our

  technologies has not helped a bit. If someone else were in control of their

  Council-someone more in tune with the Federation-we might have a chance. But not

  this way." That fool, Damon Aldaran, had made a lot of vague promises, but so

  far he had failed to deliver on them, and now he would never have the chance.

  Belfontaine had never really believed the old drunk anyhow.

  "The problem is not that these stupid people are anti-Federation, Belfontaine,

  but that they insist on being pro-Cottman. They don't give a damn about other

  planets, except for a few individuals, and even those still seem to love this

  place. I've been here ten years, and I have never, understood the attraction. It

  is hellishly cold and its people are backward-most of them can't even read!

  Hardly worth the effort, in my opinion, except that it sets a bad precedent to

  allow any inhabited planet to be outside the control of the Federation."

  Belfontaine chuckled. "Cottman is hardly going to start building Big Ships-they

  don't have the resources-and challenging us. But I hate to withdraw. It feels

  like a failure, and I hate that."

  "You said something about some of the other worlds rebelling."

  "It has not come to that-yet. And frankly, I can't get much out of the head

  office." Odd, how the language of his corporate upbringing lingered in his

  speech. "But I think that there is a very real chance that a few admirals are

  looking at this as an opportunity to set themselves up in power, to oppose the

  Federation now that things are in transition. And I have managed to find out

  that there are huge riots on some of the worlds with Liberal representation. It

  won't be long before that is put down, of course, but it is troubling. We might

  find ourselves lifting off with nowhere to go."

  "Or worse-we might not be able to leave. Have you thought of that?"

  "What do you mean, Miles?" He studied the larger man suspiciously, wondering if

  Granfell knew something that he did not. Was it possible that Granfell had his

  own sources of information within HQ, or worse, some contact outside that he did

  not know of? The idea made him uneasy, but it bore thinking about.

  "If the Federation Security Forces are busy putting down riots and rebellions,

  they might not be able to send ships to lift us off. We could be abandoned here

  for several years." Granfell spoke simply, as if the notion were a familiar one

  to him.

  Lyle stared at the other man, aghast. He had not even considered that scenario.

  And it was not impossible either. In the recent past, the Federation had shown

  itself willing to withdraw from a few marginal planets when it could not get its

  way
by any other means. The idea of having to remain on Cottman was distasteful,

  and the other was even worse. He could find himself sacrificed-unthinkable as it

  was! There must be some way to turn it to his advantage.

  If the Federation left them behind, what would he do? He knew the answer to that

  almost before the thought formed in his mind. He would take out Cottman's ruling

  families in short order, and declare himself Governor. Without the fear of a

  Board of Inquiry, he could do as he pleased. It was so tempting that he almost

  wished, for just a moment, to be abandoned. Not that Cottman was any prize, but

  he could endure that-if he had the power to run things as he wished.

  Granfell was looking at him oddly, so Belfontaine schooled his narrow face to

  look concerned, knowing well that sometimes his avidity betrayed him. "I doubt

  it will come to that."

  "Did you know that Hermes Aldaran returned and got through customs sometime

  yesterday?"

  "Yes, I heard about it. What does that matter?"

  "Don't you think it is a little odd, him returning just now? I mean, he left

  Terra before the announcement was made."

  Belfontaine shrugged. "He was probably lucky, that's all. If he came through the

  port now, we could arrest him. But it's too late. And the port is closed until

  we leave, so that's that." The germ of an idea began to play in the back of his

  mind, but Granfell's words sent it flying.

  "If we can leave. I would not put too much dependence on the Federation at the

  moment, myself. I was on Comus during the evac, Lyle, and it is not a pleasant

  memory. Just keep in mind that you and I are disposable, unless we can think of

  some way to turn this situation around."

  Lyle gaped at him for a second. Granfell might think himself disposable, but he

  refused to! Then he recovered his composure. "Do you have something specific in

  mind, or are you just being wishful?"

  "Nothing yet, but I have been listening in the streets, and so have my agents.

  Something is going on. Damn. Do you know, I think that Comyn Castle is probably

  the only seat of government in the galaxy where we don't have eyes and ears.

  We've tried everything, but the people are either too stupid to be bribed, or

  too loyal to the Comyn. I'll try to find out more. We have a month, after all,

  and a lot can happen in that time."

  "A pity we can't just take out . . ."

  "I know. But there are no more than three hundred Marines on the whole damn

  planet, and even with our superior armament, that is not enough."

  "True. Perhaps I'll see if I can get some reinforcements." He knew it was a vain

  hope.

  "You do that, and I'll try to contact Vancof. It's a shame that our efforts to

  cause a rebellion have been so spectacularly unsuccessful, isn't it?"

  "It is hard to make people who think they are content unhappy, Miles. And,

  frankly, these people are just too ignorant to know how much better off they

  would be with good technology. I thought I would bring them to their knees when

  I put the Medical Center off limits, but it did not work. They just don't know

  enough to care."

  "Incredible, isn't it? Half of them are illiterate, have never seen a vidram,

  and they look down on us as if we were . . . barbarians, I suppose."

  "Arrogant bastards! I want to bring them down!" His control left him suddenly,

  and his fist crashed down on the desk, startling both Belfontaine and his

  companion. "They don't know what is good for them!"

  "True enough," Granfell replied mildly, as if he were amused at his superior's

  outburst. "But I am not ready to try storming Comyn Castle with the men I have

  at my disposal-not until I have exhausted all the other possibilities. I am

  going to make another try to get someone into the place-not that I have much

  hope of succeeding. The pile appears to be entry-proof. Sometimes I think that

  old rumor about there being mindreaders on Cottman has more truth in it than we

  have believed."

  He glared at Granfell for several seconds. Where had he gotten the idea that he

  had the right to storm the castle? Was his second pursuing his own ambitions, or

  trying to usurp his authority? No, he must just be speaking generally. Unless he

  was up to some scheme of his own. That was a disquieting thought, much worse

  than imaginary telepaths or magicians.

  Belfontaine shook his head, suppressing a shudder. "That is impossible. Project

  Telepath was a complete bust, and a waste of money. Oh, yes, there are a few

  mutants around, but nothing to worry about. I just think that, for primitives,

  the Cottman have excellent security." He smiled grimly, knowing that it

  infuriated Granfell that he had never been able to penetrate the castle. Still,

  he could not shake off the way Miles had spoken, as if he were in command of the

  Marines, not Belfontaine. He would have to keep an eye on Granfell during the

  coming weeks-the man was too ambitious and too clever.

  "We'll see. Dirck Vancof has been almost useless, but maybe he can get us the

  information we need. I'll talk to you later."

  After Granfell left, Lyle sat at the desk, staring at the empty blotter, and

  feeling a churning in his guts. The idea that had come into his mind returned

  after a few minutes, and he turned it over. Hermes Aldaran could now be

  considered an enemy of the Federation. Could he use that as an excuse to force

  Hastur to do something rash, and then bring in a Task Force?

  It was unfortunate that Lew Alton knew Federation law as well as he did, but it

  would not hurt to demand that Aldaran be turned over, would it? It Might upset

  old Lord Aldaran, but he had already proved himself to be a useless ally. His

  son Robert, the older one, was no better. A dull fellow without an ounce of

  imagination. There was the sister, who lived in Comyn Castle, but she hadn't

  been nearly as useful as he had hoped at first. Besides, women were not to be

  trusted. There had to be a way to topple the Hasturs-he just needed to find it!

  5

  When Mikhail escorted Marguerida and his children into the smaller dining room

  the following evening, he was pleasantly surprised to discover that he felt

  almost human. There was an ache in him that was not physical, which he

  recognized as grief. He had experienced it long ago, when his nephew Domenic

  Alar had died, and later again over Emun Elhalyn and Emun's mother, Priscilla.

  He had felt it again ten years before when Diotima Ridenow, Lew's wife, had

  died. Neither rest nor food would banish it, only time. And Regis would have

  expected him to go on, to keep things going smoothly. He only wished it were

  easier.

  At the same time, he was looking forward to seeing Hermes Aldaran again, after

  so many years, and to meeting his wife and children. Lew had been right to send

  him to bed the previous day, and to insist on keeping him secluded for a time,

  but he still felt a bit guilty that he had not gone to the old Storn suite and

  greeted them personally. He had seen no one except his wife and children, and

  that had been hard enough.

  Domenic, his firstborn and heir, seemed deeply affected, and somehow angry. That

  was puzzling, but he did not have the energy to puz
zle it out right now. He knew

  better than to ask Nico, who had been a very quiet child, and was now an

  extremely private young man. Rory, his second child, insisted on making really

  dreadful jokes, as if he could not bear the general gloom that had settled over

  Comyn Castle. He had managed to annoy everyone, provoking his sister Yllana, his

  foster-sister Alanna, and Ida Davidson, who was usually impervious to the

  behavior of adolescents. Even Marguerida, who ordinarily found Rory's antics

  amusing, was ready, she said, to send the thirteen-year-old to Nevarsin, where

  the cristoforo monks would teach him some manners. Rory just grinned, completely

  unafraid of this threat, as he was of almost anything. It was a shame he was not

  quite old enough for the Cadet Guards yet, because even Mikhail admitted his

  middle child was sorely lacking in discipline.

  Alanna Alar was already present in the dining room, her auburn hair burnished

  like pure copper, her green eyes taking in everything. She had been a fretful

  baby, an anxious child, and now had bloomed into a vigilant and restless

  adolescent. He glanced at her, standing on the far side of the room and gave her

  a smile. To his pleasure, she returned it. Mikhail was fond of her, but he had

  to admit he found his niece rather eerie. He was relieved to see her in a good

  mood. Yllana had been completely disconsolate at Regis' death, but Alanna

  behaved with something closer to indifference, which was peculiar, since she had

  been close to her great-uncle. He suspected that she was numb with shock, and

  that when this condition finally wore off, she would make up for her present

  calm with a double helping of the hysteria for which she was well known in Comyn

  Castle. There seemed, to his mind, little question that she had inherited some

  of the instability that blighted so many of the Elhalyn line, and he could only

  be grateful that she seemed merely high-strung, instead of clearly mad, as some

  of her cousins had been. And time might cure that. Mikhail hoped so, for he was

  genuinely fond of the girl.

  She really was a beautiful young woman, and aware of it as well. She had just

  completed the first part of her training at Arilinn, where her powerful and

  remarkable laran was being disciplined, he sincerely hoped, into something

  manageable. She was already both a teleport and a firestarter, a combination