'Oh, no,' groaned Jones. 'Mr President, no.'

There, framed in the doorway, was President Vargeld, hands raised over his head.

Another groan from Jones. 'He's surrendering.'

Fitz was just relieved that the shooting was over.

Vargeld's voice rang out, loud and clear. 'Everyone put down your weapons. There will be no more shooting today.'

Fitz threw his blaster to the floor.

Jones did the same, with a sigh. 'Lindsey,' she said, with the tiniest of smiles.

'Fitz,' said Fitz, with larger smile. He was just being friendly, he told himself. Arielle's death had killed his libido and, as for his heart. it didn't even feel as if it was there any more. 'So, what happens now?'

Her voice was small, afraid. 'Don't know.'

Anthaurk commandos were pouring in from every direction. Fitz watched as the President was led away. Something was bothering him. The Stefan Vargeld he'd briefly met was a complete b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Surrender seemed totally out of character. Maybe it was a tactical thing, maybe he was bluffing.

Fitz trudged back down the corridor with Jones and the other troopers, Anthaurk commandos marshalling them onward. The humans looked exhausted, their faces slack with disbelief. Sh.e.l.l shock. Their planet destroyed, and now this?

'Vargeld's betrayed us,' muttered a thickset trooper to Fitz's left.

Fitz swallowed, smiling nervously at Jones. Any moment now he expected her, or one of them, to say that they'd rather die than accept Anthaurk rule. Surely they weren't that stupid? Surely?

Perhaps it was true. His luck had run out, and it was going to end here, in pain, in fire, in defeat.

The Grand Gynarch felt a warm glow of satisfaction spread through her tired body. She could feel the blood pulsing beneath her skin, jetting along her narrow veins, swelling her wizened old heart. She hadn't felt this alive for many cycles. After a century of waiting, victory was hers.

The President and the other surviving members of the Senate stood against the circular window of the makeshift Senate chamber. Krukon stood as still as a statue, eyes fixed on her. Tibis had fought and killed several Anthaurk: his robes were in tatters and his golden fur matted with dark blood. Okotile crouched on the floor. his black carapace singed with blaster fire. Juvingeld pawed the ground. horned head looking this way and that nervously. Fandel was dead, roasted by Anthaurk blaster fire. As for the Ixtricite, it had transmitted itself back to its homeworld. The President looked suitably cowed and abashed. Ready to bow to Anthaurk rule.

The chamber was packed with Anthaurk commandos, rifles hefted across their chests.

The Grand Gynarch occupied the centre of the chamber, flanked by the six members of the Inner Circle Elite, the young Zizeenia at her side. She knew that her successor must be feeling the same sense of triumph.

The Grand Gynarch knew that their victory would be short-lived unless they acted quickly. The Adamantean battle fleet had arrived all it would take was one word from Krukon for them to attack the Anthaurk fleet. A pity Zendaak wasn't here, and an even greater pity the plan to capture the Omnethoth had failed. With that, there would be no doubt of Anthaurk supremacy.

But that wasn't going to happen. The President had surrendered. He was going to sign over rule of the System to the Anthaurk. A thrill of delicious antic.i.p.ation ran through the Grand Gynarch's frail frame and she motored her chair forward until she was directly in front of the beaten President. 'You were wise to surrender, human. You have prevented further loss of life.'

The President c.o.c.ked his head, an oddly indifferent expression. 'What makes you think you've won? You're still outnumbered by all the other species in the System.'

The Grand Gynarch produced the doc.u.ment from the pouch on the side of her chair. 'Once you have signed this, we will have won.'

The President took the doc.u.ment from her, appeared to read it. He raised his eyebrows. 'Senators,' he said, 'this "treaty", if we sign it, will allow the Anthaurk to rule the System. They will have control of the trade routes, all economic policy, and set the taxation levels on all planets of the System. Do you think we should sign it?'

They all shook their heads and voiced their unanimous decision not to sign. Tibis even said that he would rather die than sign such a treaty.

'You must,' hissed the Grand Gynarch. 'Our ships are poised to destroy this station.'

'Make one move to fire upon us and my fleet will destroy yours!' bellowed Krukon.

'We are prepared to make that sacrifice,' said the Grand Gynarch.

'So, it's a stand-off,' said the President, laying the treaty down on the lectern. 'Seems the only way out of it is if I sign this.' He took out a pen from his inside pocket.

There was absolute silence in the Senate chamber. The President sighed. 'I really don't want to have to do this, he said. 'None of the Senate will back me up. If I sign, there will be system-wide resistance. There are hundreds of other species in the System. Do you really think they're going to subscribe to your rule?'

The Grand Gynarch bridled. 'The might of the Anthaurk.'

The President snapped his fingers in her face. 'Is as nothing compared with the might of the Adamantean, the Luvian, the Kukutsi and, as for the Ixtricite, no one really knows what they've got on their crystal planet! Think, Gynarch, think of the consequences. You can't go rampaging about, a.s.serting your will. Rejoin the Alliance, we can all work together.'

'Never.'

The President picked up the treaty and returned it to the Grand Gynarch unsigned. 'I'm not signing this. If I do, you will destroy this station, including myself and the Senate. What then? There will be another war, you are outnumbered, you will lose. You can't be that stupid!'

'Listen to him, Mother.'

The Grand Gynarch turned to see Zizeenia by her side. her young eyes imploring.

The Inner Circle Elite all nodded as one, and Zuklor spoke. 'We are in agreement. We must commence negotiations with the Senate.'

The weak, cowardly fools! 'No! We either rule or we die!'

The President hunched down in front of the Grand Gynarch. 'You are a throwback to the old ways of the Anthaurk. You're obsolete. The time when the Anthaurk needed to wage war has long since pa.s.sed. You must now live in peace with the other races of the Minerva System' He turned to Zizeenia and smiled. 'A new leader is required, one who is young enough to be able to learn.'

The Grand Gynarch's vision was hazy. Her limbs ached. The President's words brought forth hatred and bile.

'I can see no future for your race unless you co-operate with others. Unless you learn the word "compromise".'

That word! The Grand Gynarch hissed her hatred. 'For a century the Anthaurk have paid lip service to human ideals! Now no more!'

The President spoke earnestly. 'We need to draft a new treaty, one that encompa.s.ses all races in the System, one that embraces peace. Will you help us?'

He was addressing Zizeenia and the Inner Circle.

'We will help you,' said Zuklor. 'It is the only way we can survive.'

The Grand Gynarch spun round in her chair. 'We must not listen to these lies! We can rule!'

The Inner Circle were shaking their heads.

'M'Pash was right,' said Zuklor. 'Peace is the way forward now. We need to evolve.'

'She certainly was right,' said the President, smiling broadly.

The Grand Gynarch frowned. How could the President know of M'Pash?'

'The Inner Circle has decided. It is time for a new leader,' said Zuklor. Now his eyes gleamed with triumph and his voice rang with conviction. He didn't sound foolish or cowardly any more. 'It is time for a new Grand Gynarch.

Zizeenia bowed to the Inner Circle. Anger coursed through the Grand Gynarch's old frame. Had they got to her, poisoned her with their views?

There were tears in Zizeenia's eyes as she turned to face the Grand Gynarch. 'You know what I have to do, Mother?'

The Grand Gynarch nodded wearily, the anger draining out of her. Her world, her universe, was falling apart around her. The Inner Circle speaking of peace? Her own flesh and blood not wanting to go out in a blaze of glory? She couldn't stand against them, not on her own. She was too old, too tired. If peace was going to be the Anthaurk future, she wanted no part of it. She wanted to die.

'Yes, child,' she said, darting a look of bile at Zuklor. He stared back impa.s.sively. 'You alone are forgiven.'

The Grand Gynarch closed her eyes as she felt her daughter's hands around her throat, the claws squeezing until finally there was no more pain and the Grand Gynarch was floating into the divine, glistening coils of the Six Hundred.

Chapter Twenty-Five.

'All in a day's work, eh?'

I'm not insane.

President Vargeld stared up at the dome of darkness above him. It was watching him, he was sure. Watching him, and, worse, laughing at him. He shuddered, looking down between his feet into the churning blue-black void beneath the grating. What was the stuff? He seemed to catch glimpses of forms alien, twisted forms, machines, worlds, lives lives: a man and a woman laughing and holding hands, a six-legged insect champing its mandibles into the side of a trumpeting mammoth, a world of stark angles where frightful cl.u.s.ters of eyes stared blankly into a churning void He tore his gaze away with a groan. Madness capered below him and even if he looked straight ahead he could still sense it flickering and chattering away, wanting him to look back, join in.

But, when he looked straight ahead, he could see the thing that was almost worse than the madness below because it looked designed, looked like it was made for made for something, something evil, wrong. He forced himself to look at it. At the angular, sick-looking column in the middle of the chamber, the tube-covered plinth supporting it and the crystalline structure above. something, something evil, wrong. He forced himself to look at it. At the angular, sick-looking column in the middle of the chamber, the tube-covered plinth supporting it and the crystalline structure above.

What was it for? Was it there at all or was he Please, I'm not insane.

Where was this place? He walked along the metal walkway towards the console. Its surface was an insane confusion of dials, their surfaces smoky and black, and spiky switches, with little black wires sticking out everywhere.

He reached out tentatively. There was a buzz of energy, a tingle in his fingertips which somehow seemed to say: Watch it I could hurt you, and hurt you bad.

He turned away. If this was a machine, it had been designed by a madman.

There was a door at the end of the walkway. He hadn't noticed it before. He ran up to it, hoping it was a way out of this madhouse; but, however much he pushed it or pulled at its scarred metal handle, it wouldn't budge.

He turned around, his back against the door, trying to control his breath.

I'm not insane.

For a start, there was no history of madness in the Vargeld family. Then there was his last medical. only a few months ago. A OK, tip-top health, slight signs of stress but that was understandable in his position. OK, he'd cracked up over the death of Arielle but he'd loved the woman. Loved her.

He began to shake with unwanted laughter which turned into sobs of fear and confusion. He fought to control his emotions, hugging himself, staring up at the smooth darkness above, not letting the madness below have the slightest glimpse of him.

That was the worst part.

Arielle was dead. He was sure of that.

But she had been the one who had brought him here, to this shrine of madness.

During the Anthaurk attack, Vargeld and Fandel had been forced to retreat into one of the loading bays. They had sheltered behind a goods container as a squad of Anthaurk kept up a continual barrage of blaster fire from the maintenance gallery which ran across the middle of the loading bay.

The container was shuddering under the impacts, burning up, melting. President Vargeld could feel the heat of it against his back, and the air was thick with black smoke. They didn't have long. There was no way out. The President was calm, almost detached. Yquatine was gone, Arielle was gone; it seemed only natural that he should be next. At least, if there was an afterlife something he'd never seriously considered before this moment then he'd see her again. Kiss her again. Hold her again. He was reconciled to his imminent death.

Fandel, on the other hand, clearly wasn't. The Luvian kept up a ceaseless babble of imprecations and yells of fear. President Vargeld phased him out, trying to muster a sense of finality. Only the pressure of Fandel's fingers on his arm and the shouted words, 'I'm going to run for it!' shook the President from his reverie.

'No!' he cried, making a grab for Fandel's retreating figure. But it was too late Fandel squirmed around the side of the container and ran into the middle of the loading bay, beneath the serried ranks of loaders.

President Vargeld stayed hidden, cursing Fandel's cowardice. He could hear him begging the Anthaurk to remember the treaty, to have mercy.

President Vargeld was unable to resist peering out from around the side of the container, and was just in time to see three orange beams of energy arc towards Fandel, his Luvian finery going up in a roaring ball of flame. Soon, all that was left of him was a charred husk.

Harsh Anthaurk voices called him to emerge from hiding, promising that they would spare him. He laughed at their clumsy tactics. If he stepped out he'd meet the same fate as Fandel.

And if he stayed here they'd keep firing until the container became so hot he'd either choke to death or be forced to come out. Or until Aloysius caved in under the Anthaurk onslaught.

He checked his blaster, calculating. Perhaps if he ran across to the next container, he'd be able to take one of them out. Maybe he could hold them off. Maybe he didn't have to die.

As he deliberated, he heard a sudden crackle of energy and Anthaurk voices screaming in pain. Both sounds died away and as President Vargeld tried to work out what had happened, he heard a familiar voice. 'Stefan?'

He crouched there, blaster in hand, and stared at the gantries above, not believing what he had just heard.

There it was again, cutting straight to his heart like a knife. 'Stefan, are you there?'

He stifled a sob, and emerged from hiding.

She she was walking down the stairs from the maintenance gallery, the smoking bodies of the Anthaurk behind her.

She she was wearing the red dress she'd had on the night he'd proposed to her. And she was carrying a plasma pulse rifle.

He let his blaster clatter to the floor. He was unable to move, unable to take his eyes away from her, away from Arielle.

She walked right up to him, a quirky little smile on her lips. So many thoughts flashed through his head: after the first time they'd met on Treaty Day a year ago, he'd played music all night and danced around the palace like a loon, feeling as though he could live for ever; the image of her naked, her eyes closed and mouth open and his name on her lips (hearing it had made him cry); her cold eyes the last time they had met.

Now she was here, as real as Fandel's smoking corpse, the smell of which was curling up his nose.

Arielle, back from the dead. He didn't care how she'd got here, for now, and he ran to her, feeling her body fill his arms, mumbling her name into her hair. breathing in the smell of her. Except there was no smell. He remembered that seeming odd.

They disengaged and looked at each other. 'Stefan, it's good to see you again.'

There were a hundred things he wanted to say. How did she escape from Muath? What had she been doing there? Had she been taken over by the Omnethoth? Perhaps she was still possessed. But all he could do was smile and say, 'It's good to see you again, too.'

But there was something about her eyes...

'Stefan, you must surrender to the Anthaurk. It's the only way.'