Part 27 (2/2)

It was the offer Lord Esteban had said would probably be made, and the Traiti had no hesitation, after his earlier briefing, about accepting it. They knelt and swore the oaths of fealty that made them Imperial n.o.bles.

”We accept your fealty,” the Emperor said, ”and in return pledge Our support.” He touched both rulers on the shoulders with his scepter.

”Rise, my Lord Dukes.”

They did, smiling when Tarlac had to use the Language term for his own status as he translated. Hovan smiled too, feeling a sense of fulfillment. Steve had done it! This was what he'd offered his life to achieve, expecting only a death he'd thought would be final. He had brought peace, peace the Traiti could accept with full honor--peace that meant life for Ch'kara, for Sandre and the twins, for Daria and the youngling she shared with Steve. Hovan knew there would be details to work out, still--details that might take years--but Steve had made that working out possible.

Then Tarlac turned to the Emperor. ”Sir, I'd like to administer an oath now, with your permission. Team-Leader Hovan is a commando, an experienced officer who's come up through the ranks as all of their officers have, and in my opinion he would be an a.s.set to the Empire.

I've offered him a commission in the Marines.”

”Permission granted,” Davis said with a rare smile. ”We would be most pleased to have one with the qualifications you told Us about yesterday in Our armed forces.”

”Thank you, sir.” Tarlac turned to Hovan and said quietly, ”Let's do this right. You face the crowd.”

Hovan did so, glancing over the brightly-dressed courtiers. His unease was stronger now, though no better defined, and he was still tense, alert for action. Something was definitely wrong here, something in the subtle readiness of a small group nearby--

Steve's voice broke into his thoughts. ”Raise your right hand and repeat after me: 'I, Hovan of Clan Ch'kara, do solemnly swear . . .”

Hovan did as Steve told him. ”I, Hovan of Clan Ch'kara, do solemnly swear . . . to protect and defend the Terran Empire . . . from all enemies, foreign and domestic . . . and to bear true faith and allegiance to the same. This I pledge before the Lords, by my own honor and Ch'kara's.”

Tarlac lowered his hand and extended it. ”Congratulations, First Lieutenant Hovan, and welcome to Imperial Service.”

Hovan was reaching to take Steve's hand when his misgivings became reality. He spotted movement, a flash of light on gunmetal, and everything happened at once. Hovan was already reacting as he heard the bark of a slugthrower and saw the spurt of flame. His dagger flew for its target, a human screamed--

--and Steve was spun around and hurled to the floor by a heavy slug in the center of his back. Antic.i.p.ation and combat-sharpened reflexes let Hovan get halfway to the a.s.sa.s.sin before the Palace Guards could act.

By the time they'd surrounded the group, a snarling Hovan had the man who'd used the gun in custody, one claw-extended hand clamped on his neck and shoulder while he rammed the muzzle of his blaster against the base of the man's skull.

The human was s.h.i.+vering, fearful yet defiant. ”Get your hands off me, you d.a.m.n Shark! And get your knife out of my shoulder!”

”You'll be patched up,” the Guard Major in charge said grimly. ”Long enough to take a mindprobe, anyway.” He reached under his blouse for a pair of handcuffs, put them on the prisoner, and turned to his squad.

”Take this one to the medical unit, the rest straight to Security.”

Hovan released the a.s.sa.s.sin with a shove. ”What will be done with him?

And why would he shoot Ranger Tarlac?”

”Did you see the b.u.t.ton he was wearing?” the Major asked. At Hovan's nod, he went on. ”He's a Humanity Firster. They're a bunch of fanatics and troublemakers, though we never thought anyone, even one of them, would be stupid enough to do something like this. He'll be mindprobed to learn his accomplices--and how he managed to smuggle even an old-style gun into the Palace. What he did's on record, on Security monitor tapes and probably the newscasters' gear as well. He'll be shot.”

The Major paused, then smiled. ”I never thought I'd say this to a Traiti, Lieutenant Hovan, but--well done. I could wish you were in my command.”

”I thank you, Major. But for now I am the only one of Ch'kara, here, and I must hold my ruhar's death-watch.” He remembered the wording Steve had said was correct for requests. ”By your leave, sir?”

”All right, Lieutenant, go to him.”

Hovan knelt beside the inert form, his only emotion curiosity. His mourning was done; Steve had died and joined the Lords days ago, and Hovan had known he couldn't remain limited to his body--but why choose to leave it this way, with the indignity of being attacked from behind?

Guards had surrounded Emperor Davis at the first sign of trouble, and he motioned them back so he could look down at the scene: Hovan kneeling over Tarlac's b.l.o.o.d.y form as medics moved in, the Supreme s.h.i.+elding the First Speaker with his body, the courtiers milling around in confusion. Yes, events were working out as Tarlac had predicted.

He seated himself again and called, ”Cor'naya Hovan.”

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