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Maliki Arrested:
By Markus Thyme:
Previous episodes are in The Master’s Hand archive.
When the Prince’s Yacht put down at the Capital
spaceport, it was recognized by the port authority immediately. He made a quick
call to the palace and sent a detachment of port security to guard the ship.
When Maliki exited the ship the guard escorted him to a waiting ground car. He
was whisked immediately to the Palace in the Capital,
“What have you learned of my son?” demanded the
Emperor.
“Your highness, I have learned he died in a flyer
crash while he was hunting humans.”
“Who was the pilot who could manage to crash a flyer?
Has he been arrested or punished?” asked the Emperor as his face
reddened.
“Your Highness, I regret to report that the Prince was
piloting the flyer himself when it crashed.”
The Emperor frowned deeply and his face went from red to
crimson.
“Are you suggesting that my son caused his own
death?” he demanded.
“Your highness, I am merely reporting what I have
learned. I know not what or who caused the crash. I only know the Prince and
his entire entourage perished in that crash.”
“How do you know then, that he was the pilot?”
“Your highness, I was told so by Najaf, the packing
plan and farm manager.”
“Well, where is this Najaf? Did you bring him back?
Perhaps I will learn the truth from him. I do have methods.”
Maliki trembled slightly. He knew of the methods that were
used at the imperial prison to gain confessions.
“You highness, I regret to report that Najaf is
dead.”
“Another one. How did he die? How many Calanians have
perished on that accursed planet?”
“Your highness, I believe more that 20 farm workers
have perished and one squad of marines, also perished.”
Maliki knew it was not going well for him. He had not
consider how much the Emperor hated bad news. He had seen this scene previously
when he was a witness rather than a participant. That previous bearer of bad
news had been beheaded. He realized he was in grave danger, but he was trapped.
“How, Mr. Maliki, could an entire squad of marines
perish? I sent Admiral Fovea there. Those were his marines. They are the best
we have. How could they perish?”
“Your highness, they perished at the hands of the
human inhabitants of that planet.”
“Humans?”
“Humans, your highness.”
“Humans are animals. I was told so, by the chief
executive of the Abdul-Aziz Packing Company, el-Carub. How could animals slay a
squad of Fovea’s best marines?”
“Your highness, I regret to report, that those humans
are not animals.”
“How do you know that? How do you dare to contradict
me? I said they are animals.”
“Your highness, these humans we call animals have and
organized way of life. They demonstrated how organized they are when the
ambushed a squad of marines and slew them all. There is unmistakable evidence
that they are sentient and capable.”
“Mr. Maliki, either you are in error or el-Carub has
mislead me. I do not like that. I do not like it at all, but I will sort it
out. I will call this el-Carub to attend me here and question him. If what you
tell me is true, then the humans have committed murder. Animals cannot commit
murder but sentient beings can. Perhaps it is they who are responsible for the
death of my son. Either way, I believe I will command Fovea to destroy that
accursed planet and every living thing on it. In the meantime, I am sure you
would not mind occupying a guest room at the Imperial Prison while I get to the
bottom of this.”
There was nothing could be done. Maliki was sure he was
doomed. No one ever left the Imperial prison alive. He said nothing more as the
guard marched him away.
As the guard marched Maliki away, a young man who was
present slipped out of the chamber and got out of the palace quickly. He went
by back streets and sometimes rooftops to arrive at a small warehouse near the
industrial section of the Capital. He gave a secret knock and when the knock
was returned he uttered a secret password. The door opened and he was admitted.
This was the headquarters of the Liberationists. The
Liberationists were a secret organization that was committed to the overthrow
of the Emperors regime and all things imperial. In the warehouse was the very
select and secretive cadre of the Liberationists. These were the leaders of the
movement. The top person here was Detree, who was also an officer of CISPA.
Much of the communication and work of the Liberationists was
accomplished through the offices and officers of CISPA. CISPA was more than a
society for the prevention of cruelty to animals. That is only what was told to
the ordinary members. More properly, CISPA was the secret front for the
Liberationists. It was invaluable, because few Calanians dared to question the
activities or the motives of CISPA. There was on Calania a strong current of
sympathy for animals and underdogs of all kind. There was also a growing
undercurrent of resentment toward the increasingly heavy hand of the Emperor
and Imperialists in general. This resentment was exacerbated by the arrogant
behavior of palace guards and police in general.
“What news, Jon?” asked the leader, Detree.
“Maliki has returned,” answered Jon.
He then gave an accurate account of what had taken place in
the palace.
“So the fat one intends to murder Maliki and destroy a
whole world of sentient beings?”
“That is the gist of it, Detree.”
“What next?” whispered Detree. “If this
madman can murder an entire world full of people, what is he not capable
of?”
“I fear we know the answer to that,” replied
Jon. “No evil is too great for him.”
“Yes,” agreed Detree. “I believe we must
call a meeting of the leaders of the cells. I believe it may be time for us to
act, perhaps past time. The plan is in place. We need but a triggering event to
give us the pretext.”
There were nods all around and let’s do it from
several around the room. In the following hour, people slipped one-by-one out
of the warehouse. Each had a different destination, but the message was the
same and very simple.
“Tonight at the warehouse, for a decision.”
Everyone knew what it meant.
That night there were several hundred people in the
warehouse, but there was very little sound. There was none that carried through
the walls. Words were spoken softly and a vote was cast. It was unanimous. The
time was now.
The order was, “Watch for a trigger and spread the
word quickly. We act as a group.”
Although the Liberationists were only a few thousand, the had the knowledge and passion to incite millions. They were very good at rhetoric. The people, they knew, would not need much encouragement. It was a rare Calanian who had not been abused by an Imperialist in one way or another.
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