“When will that be?”
“Probably not until tomorrow,” Owensford said. “We’ve been bombarding the area, of course. We had to neutralize their artillery before we could deal with their dug-in forces. Now we’re moving units into position for the actual assault.”
“Can they escape after dark?”
“Some will,” Owensford said. “We’ve got scouts and SAS units in the area, but they’ll never get all of them. That complex of caves is big.”
“What about their missing leader? Will she go back there?”
Jesus Alana shrugged. “Quien sabe? But in my opinion, no. There would be no reason for her to risk her neck again. No. Highness, in my opinion she is gone. A pity but there is nothing we can do.”
“I wouldn’t want her to escape.”
Jesus Alana frowned slightly. “Highness, I would pray that if she escapes, as she has, she never returns. But I am afraid we have not seen the last of that one, and I do not think you will have much reason to rejoice when next we hear of her.”
* * *
Peter Owensford laid down his pointer and looked around the Council Chamber. He had certainly had an appreciative audience as he explained the campaign to the War Council. “That concludes the briefing, Sires, gentlemen, madam,” he said. “In sum: thanks to the leadership of Prince Lysander we turned a tactical win into a superb strategic victory.”
“My congratulations,” King Alexander said. There was a tremor in his voice. “Please, take your seat. Thank you. Colonel, alas, it was unfortunate that you were unable to find more of the technical people at the enemy headquarters.”
“Agreed, Sire,” Owensford said. “The materiel losses have put a heavy dent in their schedule, no doubt about that, they’ve been knocked back into Phase One of their plan, but it would have been a bigger blow to them if we’d captured their technocrats.” Owensford shrugged. “Nothing we could do. Apparently they bugged out about the time the enemy commander did. One reason why their field troops crumpled up so easily after Prince Lysander rejected their truce offer. No tech support.”
“If I may,” Jesus Alana said.
“Please,” Alexander prompted.
“We are wondering if this has not produced a certain tension between the Helot leaders and their Meijian employees. Each may feel betrayed by the other. Certainly there must be suspicions. Suspicions, incidentally, which we will certainly try to foster and exploit.”
“Thank you,” Alexander said.
“Next,” Owensford said. “I expect this next item will surprise you all as much as it did me. Captain Alana.”
Jesus Alana bowed slightly. He obviously was enjoying himself. “We have identified one of the Helot leaders,” he said. He touched a button on his sleeve console, and a cultured British-sounding voice said, “Actually, I’ve got eight or ten of your men down here, badly wounded I’m afraid. Ten minutes truce—” Jesus thumbed the button and the voice cut off.
“From the events of the battle at the river camp, it was probable that this was the man who commanded the main thrust of the Helot effort. Prince Lysander”—Jesus bowed again—”instructed us to determine the identity of that commander, so we paid particular attention to the record of his attempt to negotiate a truce.
“Some of our officers believed they had heard this man before,” Jesus said. “It was then simple enough to digitize his voice and set the computer searching. It found a match quickly enough.” Alana touched another button, and a picture appeared on the screen: a handsome man, clean shaven except for a thin mustache. “The Honorable Geoffrey Niles,” Jesus said. “Grand-nephew to Grand Senator Bronson.”
“Bronson?” Henry Yamaga demanded.
“Aye, my lord,” Peter Owensford said.
Someone whistled. Freiherr von Alderheim said, in a low voice, “Ach. Now we know who has paid for these Meiji devils to come here. But why? What interest has Bronson in Sparta?”
“I wish I knew,” King Alexander said. “I very much wish that I knew.”
“It makes one thing certain,” Lysander said. “We aren’t safe here. It isn’t enough to mind our own business.”
“I have always thought the CoDominium’s masters would not allow us our experiment in peace,” Alexander said. “I—but there is a reason why I should not speak to this. Not at this moment. Captain Alana, Captain Catherine Alana, please make your presentation.”
Catherine stood. “Yes, Sire. I will now summarize a report we already delivered to His Majesty and His Highness. The King insisted that I inform the Council.”
Peter Owensford stared around the room through half-closed eyes and watched for the effects of Catherine’s announcement.
“The Council will recall that His Majesty has—not been quite himself,” Catherine said.
Actually, he was acting like a raving maniac there at times, Peter thought. He saw that Lysander had put his hand on his father’s shoulder. The Prince’s mouth was set in a grim line of determination.
“We have determined the reason for this,” Catherine said. “The Palace medical supplies have been tampered with. In particular, His Majesty’s normal anti-agathic shots.” She waited for the buzz of alarm to die away. “Of course the physicians have been testing regularly for poisons, and examining the King after—he began to act strangely. This was something a great deal more subtle than a simple poison. A tailored virus, aimed at the endocrine glands and the hormonal behavior regulation system.”
“Devils,” the Minster of War hissed.
“Yes, Sir Alfred,” Catherine said. “Quite a devilish trick. Meijian technology, we presume. Certainly much of the equipment Jesus found in the Helot field headquarters could only have originated on Mejji, and they are known to do a great deal of genetic engineering.”
“What are the effects?” Lysander asked.
“Similar to paranoid schizophrenia.”
Alexander drew in his breath sharply.
“As we told you, it is only temporary, Majesty,” Catherine said.
“If I may,” Alexander said. The room fell silent. “I noticed that—I was not myself, much of the time. And that I tended to improve when away from the city. But I did not suspect— My friends, I wish to apologize. I have been very cruel to many of you.”
“Sire—Majesty—Father it’s all right—” Everyone spoke at once.
“So,” Madame Rusher said. “That’s why our friend Croser has been muttering about Regency provisions.”
“This is too much. Far too much,” Lord Henry Yamaga said.
“Indeed,” Freiherr von Alderheim said thoughtfully. “Perhaps this will provide the final stimulus needed in certain quarters. Croser has taken advantage of the law. He thought to make himself immune to ordinary law by taking that seat in the Senate. He forgets that there is also Law.”
Alexander looked to his counselors. His eyes had a haunted expression. “My friends—My dear friends, I can’t trust my own judgment. Therefore, with your permission, I appoint my son Lysander Prince Regent—”
“No, Father,” Lysander said. “It’s not necessary.”
“I agree the formal devolution isn’t necessary,” Madam Elayne Rusher said. “Triggers far too many formalities in its wake. Sire, if you’re concerned about your judgment, you can have the same effect by taking Prince Lysander into your confidence and having him present your will to the Council.”
“Do you—do all of you agree?” Alexander asked.
There was a chorus of assent.
“David?” Alexander asked.
“I would never ask you to step aside,” David Freedman said. “Welcome back, sir.”
“Thank you. Then so be it. In future, Prince Lysander will, acting on my advice, speak for me to this Council in the same way that Prince David speaks for my colleague. In general I will also be present, but if there is a conflict between us, my son Lysander’s views shall prevail, this to be so until Lysander says otherwise in a formal Council meeting at which I am not present. I wish this entered as an order in Council with the assent of my colleague. Is this agreeable to you all? David? Thank you.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It is not often that historians can determine the exact moment when history changes, and it would be hubris for us to assume we know precisely when the intention to attempt the transformation of Sparta from an isolated planetary state into the Spartan Hegemony first entered the thoughts of Crown Prince Lysander. Yet there are those who believe they not only know, but were present that day.
—From the Preface to
From Utopia to Imperium: A History of Sparta
from Alexander I to the Accession of Lysander,
by Caldwell C. Whitlock, Ph.D.
(University of Sparta Press, 2120).
* * *
The lecture theater of the Royal Spartan War College was an attractive mixture of old and new. The walls were paneled in wood or something indistinguishable from it. The seats were arrayed in rising tiers, each seat comfortable enough to avoid fatigue, yet not so well padded as to make the students sleepy. The lecture podium was behind a large computerized map table whose controls were duplicated both at the lectern and in the control booth at the top of the room. Behind the lectern were more screens, touch-sensitive so that the lecturer could draw figures that would be automatically copied for later printout. The acoustics of the room were excellent.