Darklight Pirates

“It was very messy. Noisy, too, I suppose.” Aaron Riddle waved his hand about as if shooing away bugs. The faint smell of ionization and spent explosive made his nose twitch, in spite of the efficient air conditioning in his office in the bowels of the Military Directorate Building. “Would you like to see?”

“It was the hiding place in the Programmer General’s office where he cowered like a trapped rat?”

“Yes,” Riddle said. He stared at the slowly shifting, misty gray column on his desk. With a move that ran his hand through the hologram, he brought up a new display.

“A flitter cam? How did you get it into the Residence?”

“That was easy. A loyalist smuggled it in. Getting the signal out is still difficult. Weir had become paranoid the past few days. But then, why shouldn’t he fear everyone around him? The citizens whom he thought to rescue turned on him because he made such a botch of providing them with the necessities. Then I made certain martial law stirred them against him at every turn.”

“The flitter cam. How?”

“Really, do you think that was so difficult? He believed he had a spy in my staff. Admiral Lamont reported to me immediately after Weir tried to buy him off with the promise of a small fleet of his own to command rather than just command of the space station and the fleet facilities there. Lamont guessed my bigger plans.”

The column began turning every shade of the rainbow, finally settling on a deep red, angry and befitting the emotions Riddle believed drove his benefactor. Baiting someone who had been his ally so far was wrong until he secured a better grip on power. With Kori Tomlins intent on putting her daughter into the Programmer General’s office, he needed all the allies he could rally to his banner. Kori was not the kind to believe anyone played fair with her. He had ordered a small army of psychologists to profile the leaders of the guerrillas fighting him. Recognizing who he fought had been easy. Hers had shone out like a distinctive beacon in the night. The failed rescue attempt had turned her into an implacable enemy of both her husband and son.

Riddle was not going to tell her Cletus and whoever had piloted the other robot had almost been destroyed. If they had stayed even a few seconds longer, both would have been blasted into plasma. He closed his eyes, wondering who the second pilot had been. Not Donal. He had remained in his flagship in orbit. Someone else. A junior officer? Cletus Tomlins had never shown himself to be anything more than adequate in his studies or commands. If his father hadn’t been Programmer General he would have reached mid level, possibly in command of a cruiser at best, and never gotten the chance to show his courage in real battle.

Cletus’ warbot had been damaged but he fought on. His companion had rescued him, possibly overriding his controls to whisk him from certain destruction.

Too bad.

Now Riddle had to be sure both Cletus and Donal were destroyed, but ideas swirled about to build into new schemes, and he knew how to get Kori’s support. His attention returned to the mist thrashing about like a miniature tornado on his desk.

“You must kill Kori Tomlins quickly, before she picks up the reins of power.”

“And her daughter, too?”

“Yes!” The word came out like steam released from a boiler.

“That might not be our best tactic. Both can be useful to kill your father and brother.” Riddle waited for the response. It came after a small gasp.

“What do you mean?”

“Come now, Ebony,” Riddle said, enjoying the superiority he felt now at coming to the proper conclusion, “who else would know so intimately the inner workings of Tomlins’ Programmer Generalship? You initiated the attack on your parents. Do you hate them so?”

“Yes!” Again the hissing. This time Riddle imagined it was more hatred than steam.

“You know the accord I reached with Kori--your mother.”

“She’ll try to kill you. Once that sniveling little bitch Bella puts on the control helmet, you are dead.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“I have you to advise me. When I get what I want--and you know my ambitions--then you can do whatever you like with your mother and sister.”

“You want to rule Ballymore.”

“I want so much more. You can have the planet. Use your mother and Bella to conquer Uller and Eire, build the fleet and let me find other planets. Ballymore will be yours. They won’t know what happened. They think you are dead, after all.”

“I don’t want the planet. I want revenge for how they treated me.”

“Have your revenge, and have the planet, as well. It won’t be for too long, I assure you, unless you remove your worst enemies quickly.”

“My father and brother?”

“Let Kori deal with them for us. It might work out that the citizens are outraged that their heroic Programmer General is murdered by his wife. That gives you a chance to become Programmer General. You can run the Blarney Stone, can’t you?”

“You know I can.”

Riddle smiled. He had detected someone meddling with the basic algorithms that drove the computer. While his skills were minuscule in comparison, he had resources Ebony Tomlins knew nothing about.

“We agree, then? Patience is our watchword. Let’s use Kori and Bella to destroy your father and brother. We use them to further our own ambitions off world. When my fleet is powerful enough and a planet or two have come under my sway, I will leave them to your gentle mercy.”

“I have no mercy for them.”

Riddle hadn’t thought so. It took great hatred to fake her own death, then watch Burran fall apart, all to kill her family. He began running the scenarios through his tactical computer to prepare for the briefing he intended to give Kori, showing her how to kill her enemies. The very first battle plan gave a 95 percent confidence level of succeeding. Why run other plans? But he did, just to satisfy himself that Donal Tomlins had no chance of escape.