Free The Navigator of Rhada by Robert Cham Gilman

But there was nothing visible. His heart raced, and he heard the watch calling the half hour before midnight. He shoved his way through the restless horse herd toward the stairs. He must free Janessa now and reach Gonlanburg before first light.
     
     

8
     
    I concluded that our holy Order had the responsibility to return to the people of the worlds a voice in their own destiny. I preached that the power of the star kings was not absolute and that the rights of the Galacton were his only so long as the people desired his rule. To this end I sought to unlock the ancient mysteries. This, too, I recant. Democracy lies far in the future.
    Navigator Anselm Styr’s confession on the scaffold at Biblios Brittanis, Mars,
early Second Stellar Empire period
     
    I am the law. You are only the Galacton.
    Attributed to General Alain Veg Tran (to Torquas the Poet),
middle Second Stellar Empire period
     
    The great starship lay in the umbra of Gonlan, an immense dark shape against the sparse starfields of the galactic Rim. In the control room, the Five still watched their instruments.
    “He did not reach Kreon. The plan is breaking down,” the Tactician said. The Preacher, sensing an opening for theology among these worldly princes of the Order, said heavily, “No plan can operate exactly as men devise it, brothers. The hand of God works in mysterious ways.”
    The Psychologist sighed. “No plan has ever worked without a bit of help. We will simply have to take the longer way. If he had reached Kreon in time, it would have been easier to resolve. The Vulk very nearly did our work for us.”
    The Logician studied the symbols that had replaced the holographic figures on his console screen. “We must not rely too heavily on the Vulk. Remember they have a strangely tolerant attitude, and they rely too heavily on the nature of men. Gret has always been a libertarian at heart. All Vulks are.”
    “It is not my field,” the Technician remarked, “but I have always understood that the plan envisioned a democratic endpoint.”
    “Too much too soon is worse than nothing at all,” the Tactician said brusquely. “This stage is simply meant to protect the Order, not to give a franchise to every peasant on every backwater world.”
    The Logician gave a short, unpleasant laugh. “Let us at least be honest with one another. This stage of the plan is intended to make the Order and the Imperial power one. No more than that, and certainly no less.”
    The Tactician responded sharply, with military intolerance. “Are you suggesting at this point that the plan is wrong?”
    The Psychologist intervened swiftly. “Enough, now. No one questions the value of the plan. But the boy didn’t reach Kreon in time, and the Vulk has mind-touched him. Variables are being introduced more quickly than we can cope with them. The important thing is to get him to Nyor at once. Can you guide him, Technician?”
    The Technician shook his head. “The Vulk has interfered with his conditioning. I can’t break through the mind-touch.”
    “What of the girl?”
    “She was implanted with a locator, nothing more.”
    “Thank the Star for that, at any rate,” the Logician said. “At least we can follow them.”
    “Quite helplessly, I’m afraid,” the Technician said. “My contact with him has been distorted badly ever since the Vulk touched him. Now there is no way of interfering.”
    The Logician said impatiently, “To make the plan function, we must have a confrontation. It is imperative.”
    “Don’t despair of the plan. Torquas will surely be with Tran when the good General plunges into the situation on Aurora.”
    “Don’t be too sure of that,” the Logician said. “Torquas prefers poems to battles. Tran will probably handle Aurora alone.”
    The Psychologist said, “An agent in Saclara says our contact has been murdered by Tran’s AbasNav Vegans.” The Preacher nodded as though expecting this information. “He was piloting a holy vessel.