The Guardians
Freedom’s Children
Chapter 3
HIS head had not spun like this since that terrible day two decades earlier when he and his wife learned they had lost their only child and her husband in the first wave of a Tarynian invasion. But this time, instead of the horror and terrible, aching grief pressing down on him, Sta’Gloan Representative Aiden Monroe felt only deep joy welling up inside his newly-healed chest.
Joy—and relief so intense he half-suspected he might simply float up out of his hoverchair.
Lon is alive.
Aiden held onto that thought, cradled it protectively in his mind like an ephemeral flame that might wink out at the slightest breath of air. Thank you, God Almighty. He had not failed after all. His middle grandson was alive.
He drew in a deep breath and felt life surge through his old veins. It filled him with an energy and purpose he had not felt since the fateful holocall two months before that had upended his world.
Lon is alive…and he brought a Galactic Union Ambassador through Sta’Gloa’s shield.
The latter part of that statement should have filled Aiden with trepidation—if one man was smart enough to figure out how to smuggle Tarynians through the shield, then it stood to reason others might have already attempted such a feat—but if pressed, he would have had to admit that all he felt was a deep swell of pride.
His grandson had done the impossible—in more ways than one—and now? Now the Triumvirate will have to listen. Kedis is here, and there is no undoing his arrival.
All the money and power in the Coalition could not stuff that genie back into its particular bottle.
Granted, Aiden was not pleased his youngest two grandchildren had just been arrested on charges of treason. He could not say it would surprise him to learn they’d had a hand in this—Lon, Kevin, and Lilia had always been close, and the twins had taken his death hard—but that someone from the NCDC had already arrested them?
His green eyes narrowed in distaste. This will require untangling. One would think certain parties would have more sense than to allow petty grudges to prevent them from making diplomatic choices.
He knew, of course, of the grudge Alan Birch bore his grandchildren. It had never been significant enough to warrant special consideration, and they had previously handled things well, but Aiden made a mental note to revisit the issue later.
“Perhaps I shouldn’t ask this of you, old friend, but I can’t help myself. Did you know?”
Aiden glanced sideways at Glo’Stean Representative Martin Hollowell, who was keeping pace with his hoverchair as they hurried through the all-but-deserted off-limits halls of the Cuomo Convention Center. He was a decade younger than Aiden, with close-cropped curly white hair. His friend’s wrinkled brown expression was a strange mix of delight, disbelief, and something that looked like cold fury.
“I did not.” Aiden swallowed a sudden lump in his throat as painful memories of the past two months crowded to the forefront of his mind. “I buried him, Martin. He was gone.” He swallowed again, rubbing his short white beard. “Until I speak to Lon myself, I am afraid I find myself unable to quite believe it.”
“Not to mention the fact that he brought a damned G.U. ambassador through Sta’Gloa’s shield.”
Aiden tried for a wry smile to deflect the maelstrom of thoughts and emotions swirling inside him. “Now that, Martin, I can believe.”
Seeing the astonishment on Hollowell’s face, Aiden could only shrug. “Lon has always been bold enough to do whatever he sets his mind to. Did I ever expect him to embroil himself in something like this?” He shook his head. “No. But does it surprise me?” His wry smile deepened. “Not particularly.”
Hollowell still looked like he did not quite believe Aiden, but he inclined his head in a gracious nod. “For your sake, Aiden, I am glad the boy survived.”
“Thank you, my friend.”
Hollowell cast a grim look over his shoulder in the direction of the frenzy they had left behind. “The media will have a field day with this. A G.U. Ambassador, here?”
Aiden was still far too relieved he had more or less received his grandson back from the grave to be anything more than mildly concerned, but he inclined his head in agreement. “Undoubtedly.”
His fingers tightened on the arms of his hoverchair; he wished fervently he could make the blasted thing go faster. It frustrated him that he still required the chair, but he had, after all, nearly been killed in the explosion that rocked the Tri-Global Tournament’s Opening Ball. In many respects, it was a miracle he had survived.
“What of Lilia and Kevin?” Hollowell glanced over his shoulder again, this time to consider Michael and Derek, Aiden’s oldest grandchildren, who flanked them along with Hollowell’s aide and the Representatives’ respective security teams. “Do you think they’re involved?”
Aiden looked back at his grandsons as well. Their faces remained impassive.
The elder, Michael, was his head of security. He had taken the position a little earlier than planned; his predecessor and old family friend, Will Graves, had died in the bombing attack at the Opening Ball that had nearly killed Aiden himself. Michael took after his Tarynian father in appearance—blond hair and startling violet eyes. The twins had inherited those same eyes.
Derek, his second-eldest grandson, worked as his personal aide. Of all his grandchildren, Derek most resembled Aiden himself, both in appearance and in disposition. He was tall and lean, with dark brown hair, angular features, and keen green eyes.
“That,” Aiden said at last, “will be a question I put to the twins when I see them.”
Hollowell gave him a strange smile. “I don’t envy you the scrutiny you’ll be under as a result of this, old friend.”
“If it means my grandson is alive, Martin, I will take it.” Aiden tightened his fingers on the arms of his hoverchair again. “You of all people should understand that.” Hollowell had lost his entire family to the Tarynians the same day Aiden lost his daughter and son-in-law.
“Oh, I do. It does not, however, change the fact that the next few weeks are likely to be…rather unpleasant for your family.”
Aiden merely inclined his head. It will be worth it. He could weather any storm that followed tonight’s events. In the meantime…they needed to deal with Ambassador Kedis. Where had Dion Pamos and Shane Briscoe taken him?
At that moment, Derek’s comlink buzzed. “Grandfather, Representative Briscoe would like you to meet him at Conference Room Warrington, on Sublevel 2.”
“Excellent,” Aiden said briskly.
The group of them took the next accelevator they found down to Sublevel 2. They turned down two more corridors, and then Derek, who was striding along with one eye on his comlink, suddenly faltered. “Grandfather … ”
His voice sounded odd; Aiden stopped his hoverchair in the middle of the corridor to look at him. “What is it?”
Derek swallowed, his eyes flicking to Hollowell and his aide before focusing on his grandfather. Taking a deep breath, he nodded to his comlink. “I’ve just received word someone activated a number of shield generators in occupied territory. Glo’Stea’s planetary shield is now completely intact.”
For the span of a heartbeat, his words made no sense. Aiden heard each one, but the picture they formed was an unfathomable jumble of syllables strung randomly together. That picture then abruptly rearranged itself, snapping reality back into crystal clear focus.
One word escaped him. “When?”
“Less than fifteen minutes ago, near as anyone can tell.” Derek jabbed his comlink with a finger. “Communications are a mess. All G.U. forces stationed in occupied territory have been completely cut off from the rest of the Blockade Division.”
“What happened?” Michael demanded.
Derek shook his head. “The only info anyone has yet is that every single Glo’Stean city that was supposed to host a shield generator is now contributing to the planetary shield.”
Utterly astonished, Aiden looked at Hollowell, who was nodding as his aide spoke quietly in his ear. He had also just received the news. “Martin, how in the galaxy did your people manage to build shield generators under the Tarynians’ noses?”
Hollowell smiled grimly. “Too early to say for sure, but I will say we Glo’Steans are a very resourceful lot when we choose to be.” His eyes narrowed into brown slits. “Does Kedis know yet?”
Derek shook his head. “He can’t know. Not yet. Not unless he’s got a comlink capable of contacting Admiral Chesnee.”
“Which he may very well have.” Hollowell’s face settled into stern lines.
Derek hesitated for a fraction of a second—Aiden was sure Hollowell had missed it, not knowing his grandson as he did—and Aiden suddenly knew Kedis did not possess such a comlink. That is one good thing, at least. They would be able to control when the Ambassador learned of this latest bombshell.
Hopefully.
It also meant that Derek—and probably Michael as well—knew a good deal more about this affair than they were letting on. We will be having a chat later. Aiden narrowed his eyes, thinking of the twins. All of us.
“We can’t tell him,” Hollowell said forcefully. “Not yet.” He resumed traveling down the corridor at a brisk pace.
Aiden glided forward, catching up in a matter of seconds. “Nor can we withhold that information from him very long.” He shook his head, already filtering through all the possible scenarios that could arise as a result of this latest turn of events. “It will be practically impossible to keep it from him.”
Hollowell tilted his bushy white eyebrows in an expression that clearly asked, Even if he’s safely locked away?
Aiden merely frowned.
They turned left and encountered Glo’Stean Representative Shane Briscoe, surrounded by a bevy of security guards—probably not all his own, Aiden surmised, though it was difficult to know who else was involved just yet. He was tall, with brown hair and electrifying hazel eyes.
When he caught sight of them, Briscoe’s face was for a few seconds a strange blend of relief and concern. Regaining control of himself, he strode forward. “Representatives. Good. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Where’s Pamos?” Hollowell looked around, as though expecting the shorter Sta’Gloan Representative to materialize out of thin air.
A smile curved Briscoe’s mouth, but it was short-lived. “Have you heard the news?” When both Representatives nodded, he spread his hands in a little, what do you expect? gesture. “Our esteemed colleague was quite torn over which direction to jump.” He nodded over his shoulder at the closed door behind him. “He assured the Ambassador the Triumvirate will take good care of him and left him to me.”
Aiden blinked. He had anticipated Pamos to have glued himself to Kedis’s side. “That is…unexpected.”
“Not particularly,” Hollowell said curtly. “You know Dion as well as I do, Aiden. No doubt he’s already calculating how best to turn this to his advantage.” His upper lip curled. “Wouldn’t surprise me at all if he’s comming Chesnee as we speak.”
“Without even speaking to the Ambassador first?” Briscoe’s hazel eyes tracked back and forth between the two older Representatives.
Beyond Derek, Michael, and Hollowell’s aide, their respective security teams maintained a close, but respective distance.
Hollowell smiled; it was not a pleasant expression. “He never bothers to inform the Triumvirate.” He abruptly shifted to fix Aiden with a piercing stare. “Kedis doesn’t need to know about Glo’Stea’s shield.” He included Briscoe in his stare. “Not yet.”
“With all due respect, Martin, I disagree. He’ll find out eventually.” Briscoe shook his head, his face uncharacteristically grim. “There will be no hiding something of this magnitude for long.”
Hollowell waved a hand. “His access to the ComNet and the media can be restricted.”
“Not for long,” Aiden said. “And not, Martin, without drawing attention. The Ambassador seems an intelligent man; I doubt a ploy like that would make him anything but suspicious.”
“Best to offer the information as a peace offering of sorts, I think.” Briscoe sighed, looking for an instant much older than his thirty-six years. “It is in our favor, at any rate, and it sets the stage for the negotiations we will inevitably face once he’s standing before the Triumvirate.”
“Besides,” Briscoe offered Hollowell a grim smile, “we’ll need him to call off Chesnee, won’t we?”
Oh, yes, Aiden thought. The Admiral has proved himself quite adept at doing his job. Aloud, he said, “For the sake of our people, it would be most helpful to avoid any further loss of life and property.”
“Especially since we now have a number of Lanxians and Glo’Steans temporarily stranded on Sta’Gloa,” Briscoe said.
He did not have to say more; they all knew how delicately balanced the situation in the Coalition was at the moment. The Tri-Global Tournament had quelled a fraction of the rioting and unrest that had plagued them since Admiral Chesnee upset the status quo and not only breached Lanx’s shield but cut several of their mining worlds off from the rest of the Coalition, but tonight’s events could only stir everyone up again.
Hollowell’s expression could have been carved from granite.
“We can’t hide this from him,” Briscoe reiterated, shaking his head. “That would be a political disaster greater than anything we’ve dealt with lately. One wrong word at the wrong moment … ”
“I see your point,” Hollowell said at last, holding up a hand. He eyed Briscoe keenly. “And will you be telling the Ambassador this yourself?”
“No.” Briscoe smiled again. “I intend to tell Lon and have him pass the news along.” He shrugged. “He is, after all, Kedis’s Coalition liaison.”
Hollowell absorbed this, and then rounded on Aiden. “No offense, old friend, but is your grandson up to the task he’s set himself?”
Aiden exchanged a wry look with Briscoe. “He has apparently managed up until this point.”
He had never considered Lon—his bold, adventurous middle grandchild—as one much for politicking. He had always thought Lon lacked the patience necessary to deal with tedious people and tedious situations. This business with Kedis, however, shed a different light on things.
“What will you tell him, exactly?” Hollowell asked abruptly.
Briscoe’s smile held a little more humor this time. “The facts, Representative—as could be gleaned from any media source at the moment.”
Looking mollified, Hollowell bent his head in a nod. “Then I will leave you to it. Good night, gentlemen.”
“Good night, Martin.” Aiden waited until Hollowell had set off, security team in tow, before he looked at Briscoe. “I am afraid I must leave as well.”
“Understandable.” Briscoe offered him a bow. “Go home and get some rest, Aiden. You’ve had a shock tonight, and you’re still recovering.”
Aiden’s bearded face creased in a small smile. “Yes, well, as far as shocks go, this one is better than the alternative.” He wheeled around in his hoverchair—Michael, Derek, and his security detail flanking him—and added over his shoulder, “We are in for an interesting day tomorrow.”
“That,” Briscoe said to their retreating forms, “is an understatement if I’ve ever heard one.”
Once they were out of earshot of the Glo’Stean Representative, Aiden addressed his grandsons. “Kevin and Lilia. Where are they?”
Michael and Derek exchanged glances. “We don’t know yet,” Michael answered, an undercurrent of frustration lacing his voice.
“Birch won’t tell us anything,” Derek added.
Aiden narrowed his eyes. “He knows you work for me.”
“Oh, he knows.” Derek looked disgusted—and tired. “I think he’s actually waiting to hear from you in person.”
Of all the petty, vindictive…Aiden pressed his lips together until the urge to say a few choice words passed. At last, he said, “I can only assume the twins’ comlinks were confiscated when they were arrested. What of…other forms of communication?”
His grandsons exchanged another grim look. “They’ve all failed,” Derek said flatly, “and we have no idea why.”
Michael’s expression said he had a couple of ideas—none of them good.
“I see.” Aiden digested this, his concern for his youngest grandchildren deepening. That they cannot even be reached via Nancom…
He did not speak again until they had taken the accelevator back up to the convention center’s main floor. His mind whirled, sifting through and prioritizing all the scenarios likely to arise in the next few hours, and his white eyebrows knit together in a frown.
His grandsons guessed the direction of his thoughts. “Don’t worry about the twins, Grandfather,” Michael said abruptly. “We’ll find them. The most important thing right now is that we get you out of here before things turn into any more of a madhouse than they already are.”
“We can deal with everything else from the spaceport.” Derek managed a wry smile. “Including the statement you’ll have to release about tonight’s events.”
Aiden exhaled slowly, before nodding. If the NCDC was behind the twins’ arrest, they would not dare do anything with them before the Triumvirate had their say. Even Alan Birch. “Very well. Get me back to the ship.”
He had work to do.
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The Guardians: Freedom’s Children is © 2018 by E.R. Paskey
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