Regis Mundi chewed on the inside of his cheek, a habit he thought long ago eliminated. He forced himself to stop and glanced beside him. He hoped his lieutenant hadn’t caught the relapse. He didn’t want to convey nervousness.
Felix Altius sat straight-backed in the passenger seat next to him, eyes fixed on one of the myriads of reports in his lap. The trusted servant gave no indication of noticing the tic, but Mundi knew otherwise. Even when apparently absorbed in another task, his servant’s enhanced, synthetic senses gave him insightful data on even the most insignificant detail missed by anyone else. It was one of the reasons he considered Felix so valuable, besides his unquestioning loyalty.
“Dominus,” said Altius without looking up, “I advise you to monitor yourself. The slightest sign of weakness will be exploited.”
Mundi coughed and repositioned himself in his seat. “Merely a relapse. I have myself under control.”
Felix raised his head and studied the older man with his milky blue eyes; eyes that bored into a person and seemed capable of plying the depths of one’s soul. “Of course, sir.” He returned his attention to the document.
Mundi shifted himself once more. He tugged at the uncomfortable business suit. A toga remained his preferred attire. Now he recalled why he so rarely ventured from his compound on Luna. “How long until we arrive?”
“Four hours and seventeen minutes, Dominus.”
“This trip is taking forever, Felix.”
“The timing of this meeting is unfortunate. Mars is near aphelion.”
“You are well aware I did not choose the timing.”
“Yes, Dominus.”
“I am annoyed enough at being kept waiting almost two years for this. Why did they insist we come to them? Things would be far more convenient if we waited a little longer and shortened the trip.”
“Agreement to their terms is a minor concession if they intend to invite you back into their ranks.”
“Yes, yes, we discussed this and I agreed. I just forgot how much I hate space travel.”
Mundi sat in contemplation for a few minutes and grew more agitated. “Do you think they have other intentions?”
“Given your history with Talus Varr, there are probably other motivations for this meeting. Your last encounter with him did not end optimally.”
“I bloody well insulted him. They still owe me a debt. Isn’t that what they said in the message?”
“The exact term was ‘rebalance the tally sheet.’”
“Exactly; that can only mean they intend to reward me for everything I did for them. They wouldn’t possess their bioweapon if not for me. They certainly wouldn’t hold the cure without us.”
Felix was silent, having put down the paperwork to devote his full attention to his master.
“Well, don’t just sit there staring at me like that. Tell me what you think,” Mundi finally blurted.
“It is impossible to plumb the motivations of the Triumvirate. Your one apparent ally is Janus Virito. His compatriots, however, are divided in their support of you. Talus Varr…”
“Talus Varr hates me.”
“Yes, Dominus, that is so. Glynn Tennant is undeclared, making him the one on whom to focus our attentions. Talus Varr must accept your reinstatement if Tennant supports you.”
“How have our efforts gone?” Mundi had reviewed the details with Felix a half dozen times during the long journey.
“Our network is not able to penetrate above the administrative levels. Our ability to influence is restricted. The usual gifts have, of course, been sent, but I am uncertain as to their effectiveness.”
“Well, they must have accomplished something. Why else would we be summoned to this meeting?”
Felix let the question hang, unanswered. He got up and poured a cup of wine for his master.
“I thought you advised me to not drink before the meeting?”
“Our arrival is in five hours, and any effects from one drink will be dissipated.”
Mundi nodded his thanks and drank while Altius resumed his seat.
“I’m frightened, Felix. So much time has passed since I was deposed, and I never thought this day would come. I’m worried something will mess things up.” His eyes pleaded, and his face showed every one of his eighty-two years.
“Dominus, the past is something that cannot be amended. Everything to secure the desired outcome is in place. There is little point in dwelling over an event in the future. You must save your strength, set the goal firmly before you, and not allow doubt or fear to waver your aim.”
Mundi chuckled. “You mean to tell me to suck it up and be a man, don’t you?”
“I would never presume so.” The servant lowered his eyes in deference.
“Of course you wouldn’t.” The older man relaxed into his seat, raising his empty cup. “One more drink of wine is all I shall need, Felix.”
* * *
Their ship docked on schedule at the Martian orbital habitat, Olympia. Like an omniscient presence, the massive structure brooded over the ruddy terrain beneath. Aside from the clouds of water vapour drifting below, a century of terraforming had produced little change to the planet’s appearance.
Mundi and Altius exited the docking ring and stepped into Terran normal gravity. Care had been taken to ensure the field of their ship matched Olympia’s, to avoid any physical stress of a transition. They were greeted by a uniformed honour guard sent to escort them. Regis Mundi struggled to suppress his outrage at being treated like a common diplomat on a world he once dominated. The side arms the soldiers wore distressed him even more.
They were led into a brightly lit meeting room with a panoramic view of the planet below. The rising sun cast long shadows on the canyon walls beneath them and filled the room with near blinding morning light. Mundi, not accustomed to sunrises, blinked and quietly cursed. He preferred to live deep within his lunar compound, finding little beauty in the black skies of his exile home.
He fought his impatience while they waited alone for the arrival of the men who called themselves the Triumvirate. They were the invisible, guiding hand behind the governing council of the Martian Republic and the real seat of power.
“Can you believe the impertinence? Armed guards for my escort. Varr’s hand is in this. Something isn’t right, Felix.”
“Retain your composure, Dominus. Talus Varr has always delighted in your discomfort. This is nothing more than gamesmanship to keep you off balance.”
“I should have eliminated him when I had the opportunity. Have I told you the story?”
“Yes, Dominus.”
“I thought to show him clemency and gave him another chance. He betrayed me; deposed me. Sent me packing like a whipped dog to live out my days on that rock.”
“You succeeded and prospered when he believed you would fail. His underestimation of you is a bothersome thorn.”
“I confounded him, didn’t I? My hard work and determination took a useless moon populated with scattered colonies and created a unified world, defeating the Terrans in the process.” The old man straightened and puffed out his chest.
“Your accomplishments are significant, Dominus. Do not let the petty slights of a defeated man cause you discomfort or doubt in yourself.”
The doors opened, and three men entered, led by Janus Virito, a man of similar age to Mundi. A broad smile covered his papery, liver-spotted face as he embraced his old friend.
“Regis, it has been far too long. Welcome home, my dear, dear friend.”
“It is so good to see you, Janus. I cannot tell you how humbled I was to receive your invitation.” He looked over Janus’s shoulder to see Glynn Tennant awaiting the opportunity to greet him. At fifty years old, the youngest member of the Triumvirate had only come into power several years after Mundi’s departure. They clasped forearms in the traditional Martian greeting.
“I am honoured to meet you, Maestro Mundi. Welcome back to Mars.” His eyes did not share the warmth of his smile, and Mundi’s confidence slipped. His apprehension deepened when he noticed Talus Varr standing behind Tennant, waiting his turn.
Varr did not approach but made a brief nod. “Regis, your long journey proved uneventful, I trust?”
Mundi stiffly returned the greeting. “Talus, it has been too long.”
Oblivious to the tension between the men, Janus interrupted. “Gentlemen, shall we make ourselves comfortable?” He gestured toward the divans surrounding the central conversation pit.
Each of them reclined on a couch while Felix stood, inconspicuous, to the side. Talus Varr’s eyes followed him, his attention only diverted when the doors opened and servants entered with trays filled with succulent fruits, meats, and choice wines. Virito, though slightly built, piled food on his platter and dug in with the gusto of a starving man. Tennant remained more restrained in his enthusiasm, and Varr declined to eat. Mundi forced himself to participate in the hospitality. He hoped his act proved convincing.
Tradition demanded conversation remain light and polite during the meal. Mundi sighed, grateful when the entertainment began, relieving him of the obligation of small talk and allowing him to concentrate on poking down the contents of his plate.
The most celebrated musicians and poets of Mars spent the next hour attempting to entertain them. Except for Virito, who genuinely appeared to enjoy the spectacle, the group seemed preoccupied with their thoughts, eager to move on to their business.
The performances finally ended, and the remnants of the food were removed. The four men reclined and stared at one another. Tension built as each waited for someone else to start. Janus Virito, appearing tired of waiting for one of his fellows, broke the silence. “Regis, I first want to express, on behalf of the Triumvirate, our gratitude for your role in the return of the Ares weapon.”
“Yes,” said Varr, “I am aware of the challenges you faced and appreciate your integrity in returning our property, despite the temptation.”
A brief flash of anger flared in Mundi’s eyes, but a cautionary look from Felix, standing out of Varr’s sight, curbed his tongue. “Such remained the only correct action. I am humbled I could be of service.” He bowed his head.
The comment hung in the air, and with nobody picking up the thread, Janus resumed the role of spokesman. “There has been much discussion among us over how best to reward you. We sympathized with your suffering in exile on the Terran moon and noted how you prospered and demonstrated yourself as a good and capable leader. The time has come for forgiveness to be dispensed. It has been far too long since you sat beside us on the council, and I have sponsored a proposal for your reinstatement.”
Mundi could not help but smile with pride and relief at the announcement. Janus beamed at his friend and looked to his compatriots for their comments. Tennant appeared nervous, and Varr riveted Mundi with a stony stare.
“Gentlemen?” Virito prompted, “Now is the moment.”
“It is no secret I am opposed to your return,” said Varr. “My opinion on this matter is unchanged, as is my vote.”
Janus shook his head in disappointment, turning to smile placatingly at his old friend. “Fortunately, unanimity is not required, and you have the support of the majority.”
“I’m afraid you do not,” said Tennant. Talus Varr’s face showed a satisfied smirk.
“What are you saying, Glynn?” sputtered Virito. “We all discussed this, and you agreed. Why have you changed your vote?”
“He remains unconvinced,” interrupted Varr. “Neither of us believes that the repatriation of any item, even the one he desperately coveted, is sufficient to warrant his restoration.” He directed his gaze at Mundi. “You are a dangerous man. The years spent in exile have not altered your fundamental nature. You are greedy for power. Your reinstatement would soon lead us to chaos and bring the wrath of Terra’s armies upon our heads. There is no chance of you resuming your position on the Triumvirate. In this, Tennant and I are in agreement.”
With nothing left to say, Talus Varr rose from his divan and marched out of the meeting chamber, followed by the younger man.
“Regis, I am so very sorry. I believed that Glynn supported me when I invited you here, but Talus must have forced him to reconsider.”
Mundi stood and glared at his old friend. Without a word, he and Felix exited and headed to their awaiting ship.
