The Black Fleet Crisis 02: Shield of Lies by Michael P. Kube-McDowell

Author:Michael P. Kube-McDowell
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Solo, Science Fiction, Star Wars Fiction, Skywalker, Princess (Fictitious Character), Fiction, Fantasy, General, Adventure, Han (Fictitious Character), Luke (Fictitious Character), Leia, Space Opera
ISBN: 9780553572773
Publisher: Spectra
Published: 1996-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Viceroy Nil Spaar returned to the spawnworld of the Yevetha as more than a hero and just less than a god.

On the day of his return, more than three million of the Pure gathered to watch the gleaming sphere of Aramadia descend through the leaden sky of N'zoth. By means of Imperial hypercomm and planetary net, the vast throng at Hariz was joined by the entire population of the Twelve and the new worlds of the Second Birth.

The consular ship was so brilliantly lit by spotlights that it seemed as though a fragment of a star were delivering the architect of the Purification back to his people.

"Ni toi darama," they whispered. "The Blessed comes to us." Overhead, smoke generators on the escort fighters flying cover created descending spirals of crimson and purple. The roar of Aramadia's undampered pulse-lifters beat down on the upturned faces of the vast gathering, lifting their hearts. They embraced the concussion waves as though they were caresses by the viceroy's own hands.

"Hi noka daraya!" they cried. "The Brightness touches me!" cades were struck deaf in the last seconds before Aramadia touched down on the landing baffle, the fine haircells sheltered in the line of pits along their temple ridges shaken until blood ran from them. The maimed fell to their knees in joy, screaming the viceroy's name as they ecstatically daubed their blood across their chests as a badge of honor.

"I was there at Hariz to welcome darama Spaar," the deaf would say with pride in the days to come. "My ears remember the glorious sound of his pure and loving power, and no lesser sound will ever make them forget it."

Aboard Aramadia, Nil Spaar stood at the curving viewport in the gallery of his quarters and looked out over the throng. The viewport's security screen concealed him from their eyes, but he could see that his Yevetha carpeted the landscape nearly to the horizon.

"Viceroy," said his aide, Eri Palle, standing a few steps behind. "Let me tell you how beloved you are today.

Each and every nitakka below would gladly give his blood to feed your nesting. Each and every marasi would gladly offer herself as your breeding mate."

"You flatter me with exaggeration," said Nil Spaar.

"No, etaias," the aide protested. "I have been told by the proctor of labor for your office here that they have been overwhelmed by offers. The gate guard at your estate counts more than a thousand hopeful marasi who have shown themselves there."

"Indeed," Spaar said, glancing back over his shoulder.

"If you hear that he took any for himself, I trust you will see that he pays for his error publicly and painfully."

"He wouldn't dare show such disrespect to you," Eri Palle said, aghast.

"He is as loyal to you as any of us--as I myself am."

"There is always someone who will dare, Eri," said Nil Spaar, turning away. "In that way ambition makes a place for itself. I dared, once.

Or do you forget how it was that Viceroy Kiv Truun left

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