"Dinnae fash, lad," Kilgour said, knocking back his drink, waiting for Sten to do the same, and going for more. "We're th' Emp's spearheaders, aye? So i' this harbringer's a busto, we'll nae survive t' see th' rest."
Sten did not feel reassured. "Now," he said, taking Alex's example and slugging his drink down, "we'll have the fun of seeing just how Dr. Iskra shows his firm hand-and what happens to anybody who disagrees with him."
"Ah hae th' answer t' that one, too," Kilgour said. "Th' clot's an idealist. Which means we'll be wadin't in blood t' our scrotes. Six months an' thae'll be lookin't back an' talkin' aboot how kind, gentle, an' silky th' late Khaqan was. Hide an' watch. Or do you hae th' desire t' take my bet Isky's nae but a timit, slickit lambiepie?''
Sten shook his head. "Like you say. I'm mad, but I don't think I'm clottin' daft. Other than being here in the first place. No. I don't think Dr. Iskra is going to end up being remembered for his sweetness and light."
"To you gentlebeings," Dr. Iskra said, "I know that I can present the future without need of equivocation. You are professionals, students of the inevitable historical process, and concerned as I about ensuring the glory of the Altaic Cluster.''
There was a murmur. It could be taken as the listener chose, up to and including agreement.
There were only fifteen beings in the huge auditorium. It was part of the barracks complex belonging to the unit that had formerly been known as the Khaqan's Own, the purportedly elite unit whose prime function was guarding the late Khaqan's life, possessions, relatives, and friends. The walls were freshly repainted with new murals showing soldiers of the Own serving an offstage master, waiting, chins thrust forward nobly, on barricades against an offstage foe. Helping innocent citizens against offstage disasters. All of the soldiers, and all of the civilians on the mural, were Jochians.
The fifteen beings were among the highest-ranking officers of the Khaqan's military. Not the highest-ranking flag officers. Iskra had selected carefully.
Each of them had received verbal orders to stand by for a special assignment. One by one, sans staff or aides, they had been picked up by a representative of Iskra and taken to the secure complex.
All of them were career military. All of them came from long-serving families of what the Khaqan had called "the State." And all of them were Jochians. Iskra had not wanted the presence of the few Torks, Suzdal, and Bogazi who had gotten their stars.
Among them was a tall, silver-haired man. General Douw. He was doing his best to remain unnoticed—until he could see which way the wind was blowing.
"We Altaics," Iskra went on, "are beings that genetically wish for rocks we can cling to as the tides of change wash about us.
"One of those traditions should be—but never was under the Khaqan or his father—the military. The beings who are prepared to defend the state with their lives, unquestioningly. And not just the soldiers in the field, but those who dedicate and sacrifice their entire lives to that service in the services that support them.
"These are the beings whom I, as a babe, grew up somehow, instinctively, loving and respecting. I must confess, and I do not wish it spread beyond this room, that I cried when I discovered that my health would not permit me to serve as a soldier.''
Iskra paused, eyes moving over the faces before him. They held on Douw for a moment. Just long enough to frighten the general. Douw nodded and tried to make his expression sympathetic.
Iskra continued. "Of course, when I grew a few more years, and realized the monstrous crimes a soldier was required to commit under the Khaqan, and my father and my revered brother found me mature enough to tell me the truth, knowing I would not chatter it forth in childish gossip, I was very grateful for my illnesses.
"But I have skewed.
"We do not have much time. You fifteen are the men and women I must have for my New Order. You represent the military. Not the rabble the Khaqan called his army and navy.
"And you are all Jochians."
Iskra stopped and let the silence build and become uncomfortable.
No one who had reached flag rank in any military would miss a cue like that.
"I noticed that," a hard-faced woman whose uniform dripped medals said. "Should we draw the conclusions we would like?"
"Which are, General F'lahn?" Iskra led her on, as he would encourage a prize pupil.
"I have read your writings, doctor. And they spoke to me of a cluster where all of us, Torks, Suzdal, and Bogazi are united toward a common goal. A goal that the best, the
Jochians, lead, carrying the banner. Or do I misunderstand?"
"You misunderstand nothing," Iskra said. "Which is why I said I can speak honestly.
"This is a new day. A New Order.
"But that is yet to be. What must happen now is a return to peace. We must start from a position where all beings know safety. Security for themselves, their homes, their jobs, and their children."
There was another murmur—this one of definite agreement. General F'lahn would be rewarded for her bravery in walking point.
"Never happen," an admiral growled. "Not so long as we have these pocket armies, these militias, running about, calling themselves soldiers."
"That shall be dealt with, I promise you, Admiral Nel. Either they shall be dissolved, or brought under the command of properly trained officers, or..."
He did not finish. Nor did he need to. And the fifteen officers were now beaming openly.
"Yes," Iskra went on. "Just as the eventual New Order will give other beings a sense of place... This nonsense at Pooshkan University, for instance."
"Dr. Iskra. The Khaqan committed some terrible crimes. And some members of our military, even to my infinite shame some Jochians, were the assassins. Have you considered this?"
The questioner was the lowest-ranking flag officer present, Brigadier S!Kt. She was also a disciple of Iskra's, who had been driven into retirement. All that had saved her from being murdered by the Khaqan was that she came from an incredibly rich family who had traditionally supported the Khaqan. One of Dr. Iskra's first actions on arriving on Rurik was to "request" that she return to public service.
"I have. And these rapes and murders were monstrous. Against my fellow Jochians, against the Torks, against the Suzdal, and against the Bogazi. Orders are even now being issued for any military people involved to be picked up and questioned closely.''
The meeting froze. Douw shrank down in his seat.
But Iskra pasted on his smile. "Of course, if any of you here today happened to be in charge of units involved in these crimes, I fully understand how much deadly pressure you were put under by the Khaqan. None of you, to speak bluntly, are considered anything other than the honorable soldiers you are. Anyone who thinks otherwise shall encounter my severest judgment.
"And I would appreciate your assistance in this matter. Fiche will be provided to you when you leave of the units and officers I propose to investigate.
"If you know any of them to be innocent, and my informants are in error, please advise a member of my staff immediately. And, if there are any criminal individuals or units not on the fiche, I would appreciate your including them.''
Silence. A few officers-especially General Douw-chanced smiles. The lettres de cachet would be open.
"I think we have an understanding, yes?"
Nods. Larger smiles.
"A final question."
"Yes, General F'lahn."
"Your own family... was treated most shamefully."
Iskra's face was stone. "That is another matter. Of no concern to you. Of no concern to the state. Blood is blood. Blood must be answered.