The Line of the Sol Empress

Chapter 23

The fruit reveals the tree. From a good heart comes good deeds, and from an evil heart comes poisonous deeds.

- Writings of the Sol Empress, Words of Faith

[Diego]

Diego gazed out the panoramic window from his penthouse office. Unusually fierce waves, driven by strong winds, crashed into the seawall. The frothy waves reached for the sky but fell short. A dark rolling line of storm clouds loomed in the distance, threatening an otherwise pleasant day with another in a long line of winter storms.

He lifted one side of his mouth. A fitting metaphor for the current situation.

Since Empress Iona died, several delusional or attention-seeking women had claimed to be her long-lost descendant. True to what seemed a two-year cycle, there had been a recent uptick in these claims. The various scandal blogs, who did little to verify sources, were more than happy to give them voice.

Diego shook his head with a smirk. These scan-logs, as the common people called them, actually served a useful purpose. They distracted the public from other more important but less glittery issues, those the Consortium wished to guide in their own favor. And if a real heir to the Empress actually showed up, most of the public would initially assume her another in a long line of pretenders.

Thus providing the time and cover to eliminate her.

The female voice of his administrative assistant came from a black intercom box on his desk. "Sir, Director Graaf is calling."

He frowned. "Put her through. Full encryption."

A full size holographic image of the director appeared in front of Diego's desk, periodically distorting because of the vast distance. Diego continued to gaze at the approaching storm, coming ever closer. Blue-white streaks of lightning danced below the clouds.

Gwen Graaf wore a tight fitting black jump suit and her usual stern expression. "You wanted me to call you, sir?"

Diego did not turn, instead talking to her reflection in the window. "Yes, Director Graaf. There is a storm coming." He pointed out the window. "I rather enjoy watching them from my office. The power and fury is exhilarating." Spinning around, he narrowed his eyes. "But I dislike storms in Consortium business. Are you on your starship?"

She nodded.

"What have you learned about this possible Empress?"

Gwen's short blonde hair swayed over her ears as she glanced down at a hand-held viewer. "The woman who triggered the genetic alert at the hospital was named Faith Morr, twenty Earth years old. This is interesting, they diagnosed her with the so-called Empress curse, a gene expression disease that sometimes appears in the Empress line." She tilted her eyes up.

Diego nodded. "I have heard of it. I understand the afflicted rarely live past their teens?" A small grin came to his face. Perhaps the Empress problem will solve itself.

"Correct, sir. She has a family, though. A sister named Hope, and a brother named Gabriel. Triplets, sir. They lived with their father, Solomon Morr, on the Aegeus space station. He owned a starship drive repair facility."

The grin dropped, and a chill crawled up Diego's spine. So the children and that hauler survived, and there is another potential Empress. He allowed himself a begrudging degree of respect. Well played, Celeste Ciel. But the game is not over.

Gwen continued. "My operatives raided their apartment, but found it abandoned."

Diego said, "Not surprising. Where are they now?"

She gulped. "We don't know. The father owns a starship called the Firebird Rise. I put the word out though our network to find it."

Diego pounded on his desk, causing Gwen to flinch. His voice growled. "Very sloppy, Director Graaf, very sloppy! I had expected better of you. You should have had them!"

Gwen lowered her eyebrows. "I sent in a team as soon as the genetic alert came in! How was I to know--"

"And that was your biggest mistake! There was no need to rush the operation. All you needed to do was to observe and contain until more Consortium forces arrived."

She huffed. "What should we do now?"

Diego put a hand to his bearded chin. "We leverage our resources. We put the word out to all Consortium flagged haulers and all ports to look for the Firebird Rise. A substantial reward will motivate them. And I will get the Commonwealth fleet involved."

"How? They will be reluctant to go beyond the outer colonies."

"They will if the Firebird Rise becomes associated with Free Dawn terrorist activities and a rebellion by the Confederacy. I have substantial influence over the Prime Minister." A sly smile formed on Diego's face. "Besides, there will be outrage over the assassination of a key Trade Consortium official."

Gwen wrinkled her forehead. "Who?"

Stepping closer to the holographic image, he looked directly into her eyes. "You, Director."

Her eyes shot full open. Diego manipulated his viewer on the desk, sending a coded signal over the long-range com signal, triggering the bomb. A bright flash of white light preceded the sudden termination of communication.

Diego turned away. I shall be sure to give a stirring eulogy at her funeral, in honor of her service to the Trade Consortium.

Strolling around his large, polished desk, he touched the intercom box. The voice of his assistant responded, "Sir?"

"Get me in contact with Prime Minister Wilkes immediately. Tell them it is an emergency."

"Yes, sir."

The leading winds of the storm struck, howling enough to be heard inside. The windows groaned, and the tall building swayed slightly against the assault. Churning clouds of turquoise and dark indigo blotted out the sun, casting an ominous shadow, and a rumble of thunder announced the storm like a trumpeter marshaling a battle line. Diego stepped closer to the window to take in the display.

The storm is upon us.