A Prison Unsought Read Online Free Page B

treachery and treason
if he connived at that dirty bomb in the Palace Minor. It would be treachery
and cowardice if he found out about it and skipped out without alerting palace
security. They might have saved a few,” he finished bitterly.
    “But it is possible he had no part
in that, nor foreknowledge.”
    “Then why isn’t he offering to
debrief us? Nukiel said he gave him every opportunity during the flight to
Desrien and from there to here. Gnostor Omilov, once his tutor, told us during
his debriefing that Brandon never talked about it.”
    Willsones pursed her lips again, then said, “If I were in
his place—and you know I have dedicated my life to avoiding politics—but were I
in his place, and I could not prove anything I said, I would say nothing.”
    Nyberg cursed under his breath. “Bringing us right back to
where we started. This much I know.” He dropped his hands onto his knees. “If
we expect to hold onto what remains of the Panarchy, then we have to follow the
rules. And that means according the Aerenarch all the due deference owed the
Arkad name.”
    “But not the power,” Willsones
said.
    Nyberg’s memory flashed to the iconic statue in the gardens
of the Palace Minor, seen only once in person. He flicked his fingers over the
admiral’s stripes on his sleeve. “That’s number two: this uniform makes me
officially powerless.”
    Willsones sat back, musing. “I wonder what Eusabian thought
of the Laocoön, if he’s seen it?”
    Her statement, unsettlingly parallel to Nyberg’s, demonstrated
once again why rumors of telepathy had dogged her entire career, despite her
null certificate from Synchronistics.
    One hand strayed lightly across her blanked compad. “Do they
have snakes on Dol’jhar?”
    Nyberg appreciated her attempt at humor—release—a moment to
mentally regroup. Before he left this room he was going to have to make a
decision. They both knew it.
    He snorted. “Probably. With fur, no doubt.” The tightness
between his shoulder blades eased a fraction.
    “Ours run more to silk and jewels,
don’t they?” She uttered a dry laugh, more like a cough. “This vid will be like
whacking the whole ball of them with a stick. Just don’t give them time to
think.”
    Nyberg straightened with decision. “Right. We’ll release the
vid at 1800 hours, or whenever Brandon leaves the Enclave for Burgess Pavilion.
But the senior officers will view it first. And . . . ” He knew
his duty. “Damana, you knew the Kyriarch Ilara, I believe.”
    Her eyes narrowed, and the precision
returned to her voice. “Yes. Through my daughter. They were at school
together, before my daughter chose Minerva and the Navy, and Ilara caught
Gelasaar’s eye.”
    “I’d like you to invite the Aerenarch
to join us in the Situation Room. This is not an order. Merely a request.”
    Willsones inhaled and laid her hands carefully to either
side of her compad, hearing in Nyberg’s voice the unspoken apology for such a
trespass. But she could not deny that she was perfectly placed for such a duty.
    Times were too desperate for resentment, and so she did not
ask him why he didn’t do it himself. What
is it you fear seeing in young Brandon?
    With most other officers, Willsones would suspect that
personal fears of career suicide might override anything short of outright
riot. But she’d known Nyberg since the Academy. She’d be surprised if his
concern here was himself.
    “I’ll do it.” She let out her
breath. “Ilara was a remarkable young woman. Her death unmoored all of
Gelasaar’s sons, none worse than Semion.” She looked directly at Nyberg. “ I
admit to some curiosity about how much of her inheres in Brandon Arkad.”
    “Good. This may shock him into
talking, and the simplest solution for all of us would be if he talks to you.
Tells you what happened on Arthelion, and then we will get a better sense of,
ah, who he is. How we must act.”
    She uttered a strangled sound that bore no resemblance