CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
“Feeling any better?” O’Hanraghty asked, turning as Murphy stepped out onto the governor’s mansion’s balcony to join him. Dawn filled the eastern sky, illuminating the gallows erected in Court Square, and a crowd had already gathered.
“It itches.” Murphy touched the dressing under his uniform. “In fact, it itches like hell. But the nanites are working on it, and I was lucky—no bone damage, and only a little muscle repair. Others weren’t so fortunate.”
“Five dead—New Dubliners, I mean. Only one of the Army pukes made it.” O’Hanraghty shook his head. “Amazingly stupid of Lipshen. He says the order was that you were to be taken in as publicly as possible. Apparently the Heart wanted to send a message to the Fringe. So, maybe he’s not the only one who was amazingly stupid. But ‘following orders’ is no excuse, as he’s about to learn.”
“Speaking of mistakes.” Murphy leaned on a railing as the bitter morning cold bit his face and ears. “This is another one, Harry.”
“Tolmach was murdered. That was enough for Crann Bethadh to send a lynch mob to drag Lipshen and his marshals out of their cells. At least you insisted on a trial—which proved pretty quick. There were cameras everywhere, after all.”
“Executing Lipshen and the marshals—not to mention a captain from the Capital Division with tons of connections to the Five Hundred—isn’t going to help our cause,” Murphy said. “The Heart Worlds will use this as more proof of treason.”
“Dewar’s President now,” O’Hanraghty replied. “And he and the rest of the sector are no longer part of the Federation, according to them. So it’s not treason—it’s just the application of domestic law.”
“How the hell did we miss seeing that one coming?” Murphy demanded. “We knew there was unrest, but—”
“I’m not so sure this one was on us,” O’Hanraghty replied. “Oh, I don’t doubt what happened here and in Diyu had a lot to do with the timing, but something like this doesn’t happen spontaneously. You know as well as I do that they have to’ve been planning it for a long time. And it’s not exactly as if either of us thinks they don’t have ample justification!”
“Justified or not, the Heart’s going to go berserk.”
“Well, why should this be any different from everything else that’s happened? You do remember the day you told me about ‘Murphy’s Law,’ don’t you? What can go wrong will go wrong?” O’Hanraghty shrugged.
“At what point did this entire situation slip out of our control, Harrison? We came out here to find evidence that the Rish were—”
“And find it we did. And then that snowballed into—Here we go.”
O’Hanraghty broke off and pointed to a doorway at the base of the mansion where New Dublin Militia led Lipshen, two marshals, and the single surviving Army Hoplon out into the icy dawn. Lipshen’s lower right arm was missing, the Hoplon limped heavily, and all four of them wore bright orange jumpsuits as they were led through a throng of armed police toward the gallows.
Boos erupted from the crowd and something flew. It hit Lipshen in the chest, and more fist-sized objects pelted the condemned.
“You want to try to stop this?” O’Hanraghty asked.
“Crann Bethadh demands blood.” Murphy shook his head. “Tolmach was…he was the only President most of these people ever knew. They loved that old man, with damned good reason, and this is already racing out of control. If there’s any hope of bringing the sector back into the Federation, they need to know they at least got justice for him first.”
“You really think there’s much chance of that?” O’Hanraghty’s tone was almost sympathetic. “Of bringing them back into the Federation?”
Murphy shrugged.
“I don’t know. I truly don’t know. But I do know we can’t afford for the Federation to shatter at a time like this. Not when the League’s just been hammered and we don’t have a single frigging idea what the Sphere’s real endgame is. And I’m the only sympathetic face the Federation has out here in the Fringe. If I try to stop this…”
He shook his head.
“We’re going to get a reputation,” O’Hanraghty said almost whimsically. “First Xing, now Lipshen and his enforcers. The Heart Worlds will have a field day with this.”
“We’ve got this wolf by the ear, old friend. Best we not let go.”
Murphy crossed his arms as the condemned mounted the gallows. A hooded executioner fixed nooses around their necks, and Murphy touched the duilleog airgid on his chest and wished Tolmach could have been here to deal with this situation. But this was his fight now.
Silence fell, broken only by the voice of the wind. The hangman looked up at Murphy’s balcony, and the rest of the crowd turned around to do the same.
Murphy extended his arm. If he raised his hand, the execution would stop.
He slashed it across his throat.
* * *
A vase flew through a holo projection and smashed against the wall.
“He’s not a traitor!”
Simron clenched her fists against her sides and stalked toward another flower arrangement.
“This is all initial press,” her father said. Thakore started toward the crystal vase Simron had her eye on, but gave up. “I’ve got it under control.”
“Control?”
Simron grabbed the vase by its lip and swung it through the holo image showing Terrence Murphy, his face altered to look dark and menacing, while the voice-over talked about corruption and malfeasance and warlordism. Vyom hunched forward on a couch, elbows on his knees, hands folded beneath his chin.
“Holo off,” Thakore commanded, and shook his head. “This whole business could just be a misunderstanding. I’m sure that once we get him back to Earth, we’ll find out it’s…not as bad as it sounds. I’ve got my influencers in the feeds already sowing different stories that we can play up for a better…take on the situation.”
“My father defeated a massive League fleet at New Dublin,” Vyom said.
“There’s still some doubt about how ‘massive’ it was,” Thakore said quickly.
“Then he left to take out a League system…and probably blew up space yards we never knew existed,” Vyom continued. “And no one even waited to find out what was happening! So when he gets back to New Dublin, he’s going to find the Inspector General waiting to arrest him? For graft?”
“There were…some serious allegations.” Thakore sat down. “If I—and by extension, Venus Futures, which includes both of you—pushed back against the Five Hundred or the Navy…it would ruin me. Us. Everything.”
“So you just let them throw Terrence to the wolves?” Simron demanded.
“He’s not just rocking the boat, Simmy. He’s blown a hole in the bottom and he’s bailing water into it.” Thakore ran his hands over his face. “Then he sends back this ridiculous conspiracy theory about the Rish…” He shook his head. “I’m doing this to protect you. And my grandchildren. You’re still young, Simmy. A divorce and—”
Vyom exploded to his feet and stormed out of the room.
“That’s his father you’re ruining,” Simron said coldly. “My husband.”
“Okay, then.” Thakore tossed his arms up. “Venus Futures backs Terrence Murphy one hundred percent, publicly and privately. What happens next?”
“The Heart Worlds…” Simron went to a window overlooking Olympia. “They’ll divest their Venus Futures holdings, and we’ll be run out of the Five Hundred. Ruined.”
“Should I throw the work of generations of Thakores away for Murphy? The man who’s amassing a fleet in a sector on the edge of rebellion, and permitting the Navy yard under his control to manufacture weapons which apparently out-range anything we have? The man who’s defying direct orders from Fleet Command? Who’s about to light the fuse that sets the entire Fringe on fire? Be reasonable, Simron. We can survive this…but not if we back your husband.”
Simron began to weep.
“They’ll kill him,” she said.
“That…I can probably stop. Just so you know, I had to put more on the line to protect our family than I wanted to. But Rajenda’s been given command of Fifth Fleet. Your brother’s bringing it back from Beta Cygni as fast as he can to stop Murphy from moving against the Heart.”
“Rajenda always hated Terrence,” Simron said, “and now you’ve got them going head-to-head?”
“But you and I know Terrence isn’t a traitor, right? Not some Fringe warlord that let a title go to his head, right?”
“Of course he isn’t!”
“So he’ll have a stare-down with Rajenda somewhere outside the Heart Worlds, and then he can save face somehow. Trust me, Simmy. I know how the Five Hundred work. Right now, the Prime Minister is pissing herself, she’s so scared, but in the end, they’d a lot rather have him publicly cooperating with the official line, pouring water on the flames, than turn him into some kind of martyr. We publicly disavow him now, and then we make sure he’s got an out later. Trust me.”
He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently.
“You’ve told Rajenda to not fight Terrence? He’s going to help end this without him—or Callum—getting hurt?”
“Of course,” her father promised, and made a mental note to delete any and all trace of his last few messages to Rajenda.
“Of course, Simmy. I’ve got this all worked out.”