Tsar Wars: Agents of ISIS, Book 1 (25 page)

Natalia laughed. “Lady Elena knows the palace
better than the original architects.”

The chamberlain began leading them up some
snaking back passageways, pausing occasionally to wait for other
people to pass. Once they had to backtrack down one whole floor to
avoid being seen. Lady Elena was fairly bursting with a thousand
questions, but she knew how to do her job without asking them and
trusted the tsaritsa to explain in her own time.

“Where’s the meeting being held?” Natalia
asked as they walked.

“Novaya Duma.”

Natalia nodded. The rebuilt hall where the
Duma sat was the normal site for such convocations. “I’ve been
there a couple of times for opening sessions, but only in the
gallery. I don’t really know my way around inside.”

“
Nu?
So we’ll improvise,” Eva said.
“It’ll hardly be the first time.”

They reached Natalia’s suite without
incident. No one was there since the rooms were currently not being
used. Natalia and the chamberlain went back into the closets to
make some quick wardrobe decisions and to fasten on the girl’s
spare leg. Eva sat down on one of the fancy chairs in the salon,
taking a deep breath. She might not get another moment to relax for
several hours, and she wanted to be ready for the action to
follow.

Sooner than she expected, Elena and Natalia
re-emerged. Natalia looked both modest and regal at the same time.
She was still officially in mourning for the late tsar, of course,
so her black dress with the wide skirt was adorned with just a
simple pearl necklace. The bodice, though, had slits to reveal an
under-layer of powder blue, giving it just the right amount of
color and life. They’d found a wig to mask where Eva had cut the
girl’s hair, and arranged it the way people were used to seeing it,
as a braided crown atop her head. Natalia was ready to appear in
public as the undisputed ruler of the Empire.

Eva got off the chair ands curtsied before
her. “Your Majesty,” she said.

Natalia stuck her tongue out. “Don’t start
fawning now. It’s way too late for that.” Then she grew more
serious. “I won’t be anybody’s ‘Majesty’ until the Sovyet says I
am. We’ve got to get there fast. Elena tells me it’s already
started.”

They rushed down the back corridors again,
with Natalia cautioning Lady Elena not to tell anyone about her
reappearance. They found Judah pacing nervously beside the huvver
by the back door where they’d left him. Natalia and Elena embraced
and kissed. Then Eva and Natalia joined Judah in the car and they
drove off to the convocation.

The car’s guidance system gave them the route
to Novaya Duma, a five-story building occupying an entire city
block. The façade was impressive, with massive marble columns
rising ten meters up, but the car couldn’t get near it because the
building was cordoned off by an army of politsia as well as
militsia from several different sectors. Some of them were from
Kuznyetz’s kavalergard, and Judah knew they would fire on sight at
anyone resembling the tsaritsa. It was a good bet that some men in
other uniforms were members of other dvoryane’s forces allied with
Kuznyetz, and they’d have similar orders.

“There’s a back entrance,” Natalia said.
“That’s the best way to get me in, but how are we going to get past
all the oprichniki?”

Judah smiled grimly. “Ilya Uzi says a good
diversion is worth a battalion of allies.” He pulled the car up to
a spot half a block away from the hall. “You ladies get out here
and leave the rest to me. I’ll blip you when it’s all set. Take
some of the guns with you.”

“Already ahead of you,
bubbe
,” Eva
said, gathering up some of the weapons they’d liberated from
Judah’s former companions. The women got out and Judah drove
rapidly away.

Natalia looked quizzically at Eva. “Who is
Ilya Uzi?”

“Sort of like Santa Claus. He doesn’t exist,
but we haven’t had the heart to tell Judah yet. Follow me.”

* * *

Remarkably, the Sovyet Knyazey had actually
started ahead of schedule. The chaos surrounding the succession had
stirred so much turmoil that everyone arrived early to get the
proceedings started. And once everyone was present, there seemed no
reason to delay things any longer.

There were cameras throughout the hall to
cover the events from all possible angles. The cameras were for
recording only, not broadcasting the event live. The theory was
that the ordinary citizens didn’t need to be bothered with the
excessively boring procedural details—nor did they need to be privy
to any squabbles, disputes, insults or other embarrassing moments
that might occur in the heat of debate. A heavily edited version
would be distributed later, showing only the “relevant”
details.

As tradition demanded the session was
presided over by the knyaz of Solar sector, which comprised only
mankind’s original solar system. At present that was Knyaghinya
Miyoshi Abatsu. Solar sector was largely a ceremonial honor, since
it was a direct protectorate of the crown, but it was still
historically significant and highly respected.

Abatsu called the Sovyet to order and gave
the official pronouncement of the tsar’s death. She then spoke of
Natalia’s death as well, and the fact that there was no further
heir apparent to the throne. These facts were already known to
everyone present, but it set the formal background to begin the
meeting.

The Herald-Chancellor next gave a formal
recitation of the Sokolov lineage, including a detailed description
of the relationships among current living descendants That list was
dismayingly small and exceedingly tenuous—which was why so many
people within the hall harbored their own secret or not-so-secret
ambitions for the post.

As the Herald-Chancellor finished, Abatsu
rose again to give the traditional call for nominations—but before
she could begin, Yevgheniy Kuznyetz stood up. “Before we continue,”
he said, “I rise to raise a point of information. The
Herald-Chancellor’s enumeration is significantly incorrect.”

Based on the information he’d gotten from
Judah, Nkosi Wettig had already warned Abatsu that this might be
coming, so she received the comment implacably. It was new
information to many others, however, and a stir of whispers flowed
throughout the hall. “Explain yourself,” Abatsu said calmly.

“The Chancellor-Herald’s recitation omitted
all mention of Knyaz Nikolai, twin brother of Tsar Vasiliy.”

Nkosi Wettig now rose to speak. “There was
ample reason for that omission. As part of the Great Compromise,
the Eighteenth Sovyet Knyazey declared Nikolai guilty of treason
and permanently removed from the line of succession. He was
executed shortly thereafter.”

“But that same declaration made no mention of
Nikolai’s wife and son,” Kuznyetz countered.

“When a person is removed from succession, it
removes all his descendants as well,” Wettig argued.

“All of his
subsequent
descendants
There has been ample case law in probate matters to show that
previously recognized descendants may still inherit. I cite the
precedents here.” His list of examples was instantly downloaded to
everyone’s wristcoms.

“This is irrelevant,” Abatsu declared. “No
such descendants exist.”

“On the contrary,” Kuznyetz said, standing up
taller and straighter. “I am Pyotr Nikolayevich, the sole
legitimate heir of the Sokolov dynasty.”

A shockwave expanded rapidly through the
hall. Kuznyetz’s allies had already been informed of this fact, but
it was still brand new and shocking to most of the assembled
dvoryane. The buzzing of conversations in the audience swelled like
an approaching swarm of bees. Kuznyetz just stood there silently
for several moments, the hint of a self-satisfied smile on his
lips.

Abatsu stood coolly at her podium, letting
the hubbub run its course before calling for order. When the sound
level had dropped low enough that she could be heard throughout the
hall without shouting, she continued, “Why should this council
accept such an outrageous claim?”

Kuznyetz’s smile broadened a bit. “I offer
certificates from five different independent and highly respected
medical laboratories attesting that my DNA proves a strong and
incontestable genetic link to the Sokolov line.” Those reports were
also downloaded to people’s wristcoms.

Abatsu didn’t even bother to look at them.
“You realize, of course, that on a matter of such importance this
council will have to perform its own testing.”

“Certainly, madam,” Kuznyetz said, bowing his
head. “I place myself completely at the council’s disposal.” He
paused just for a second. “I feel, in all fairness, that I must
point out that, while
I
have plenty of time to place at this
council’s disposal, the Empire as a whole does not. In just the
past few days we’ve witnessed the unspeakable horrors that can
befall a leaderless Empire.” He failed to mention, of course, that
he himself was responsible for many of those horrors.

“That’s true,” one knyaz spoke up. “In just
the past three days, two planets in my sector have reported
bombings from space, leading to millions of casualties.”

There was a general murmur of assent
throughout the hall.

“The Empire dares not remain leaderless for
too long,” one of Kuznyetz’s allies said. “It will fall apart
without the glue a tsar provides.”

Abatsu looked calmly out over the gathered
dvoryane. “I’m sure that’s a fate we will not suffer,” she said.
“There are no doubt many within this very hall who would nobly
volunteer for the position.”

“At this time I suggest the name of Hoy
Lin-Tao of Lyra for consideration,” someone else said. “He has
decades of experience ruling the largest single sector of the
Empire.”

“There are many noble families represented
here,” Kuznyetz said, ignoring that suggestion, “but none that can
match my lineage.”

“That’s true,” said another of Kuznyetz’s
stooges. “I propose we consider Knyaz Yevgheniy of Scorpio for
elevation to the Sokolov throne.”

Before anyone else could speak, though, the
entire hall went dark.

* * *

Judah had no idea, when he drove off, exactly
what sort of diversion he would create. But he had a car with
diplomat-level clearance and he had some stingers, all of which
were great diversionary tools. As Ilya Uzi frequently said:
Improvise.

His first thought was to crash the car into
the building, but he rejected that immediately. With all the
high-level dignitaries inside, a frontal assault would bring the
meeting to an instant halt and lead the security force to evacuate
the building. That would never do; he wanted the Sovyet to be in
session when the tsaritsa made her surprise appearance.

The car’s comm unit could broadcast on the
emergency frequencies of Kuznyetz’s kavalergard. They were the ones
most in need of distraction, and Judah knew exactly the sort of
call they’d respond to without alerting the Moscow politsia.

He locked the car’s controls into the local
traffic grid and programmed it to drive through the streets around
Novaya Duma in a semi-random pattern. With traffic this crowded,
the car would move slowly with it, giving Kuznyetz’s oprichniki
plenty of time to spot it. Their attention would be mostly trained
on it.

Judah called in to the kavalergard leaders.
“Code Phoenix! Code Phoenix! A black limousine has been spotted
circling Novaya Duma with the Velikaya Knyaghinya impostor inside.
Serial number R677ZZ157F. Intercept at once.” He repeated the
message a second time, grabbed up the three remaining stingers Eva
hadn’t taken, opened the door of the car and jumped out. The car
was traveling slowly enough through the thick traffic that he had
no worries of hurting himself.

He quickly blipped Eva and ran straight for
the front doors of the hall. By the time he reached them, they had
opened to disperse a swarm of kavalergardy from Kuznyetz’s and
other dvoryane’s groups, like angry bees defending their hive.
Judah stood out of their way by one of the enormous columns as they
rushed past, then slipped unnoticed into the building behind
them.

He’d never been in this hall before; it was a
parliamentary hall rather than a theater which he was more used to,
but it still had many similarities to the large theaters he’d been
in throughout his career. They all had features in common. He was
currently in an enormous lobby. Nothing important would happen
here; everything of interest, at least to him, would be taking
place behind the scenes. He ran around the periphery, looking for
the “Staff Only” signs that would lead him to the backstage
labyrinths.

The first such door he came to was locked. He
used his Zionian strength to yank it open, but it was merely a
supply closet. He moved on quickly.

He came to a broad, sweeping staircase and
bounded up four steps at a time. Control rooms, lighting and sound
booths were nearly always at the upper levels, where the people
running the event could get a good view of what was going on. A
control booth would be a good place to monitor all the action, and
he was willing to bet that was one place the rebellious forces
would establish a headquarters. Ergo, that was where he needed to
be.

He made it up to the third floor level before
he was challenged. One guard at the end of a hall, in a uniform
Judah didn’t recognize, shouted, “Hey, you! Show your
authorization!”

Judah obliged by pulling out one of his
stingers. He’d already set them on a low level charge that wouldn’t
leave any permanent damage. He fired once, and the man fell. Judah
kept on running.

He went up one more floor and saw a small
sign saying “Control Room” with an arrow pointing to the right, so
he turned that way. A door at the end of the passageway was labeled
“No Admittance,” which he translated as “Come this way.” He rushed
through at top speed, ready for anything he might find, up to and
including a pair of stone-cats.