Starko remained in the sanctum with Aldur Bokren and Dira Urtigo until the night watch supervisor, Targ Aleyfrukttoveil, arrived to relieve him of duty and receive a full report of the day's events.
It took longer than usual this time.
“The Ledelkrig attacked our cathedral?” Targ said, his face ruddy with consternation. He sat with Starko in the security viewing vestibule. Their protected patrons, Aldur and Dira, remained visible on the sanctum monitor. “How does the Grand Moot plan to deal with this?”
Starko shrugged. “At the moment, the Grand Moot seems satisfied that we gave much better than we got. The Ledelkrig suffered several casualties. We lost a seneschal bot. Some kind of sanctions are certain to be imposed against the local Ledelkrig brigade, but I think a full-fledged caste war is easily averted in this instance.”
The older Toveil grunted his disagreement. It had been many years since the last inter-caste conflagration, and for some hard-liners like Targ Aley it was frustrating to let an opportunity for bloodshed pass them by. He gave a wistful sigh as he watched the data playback of the showdown on the steps between the Ledelkrig warriors and the multi-blasting seneschal bot. Finally, he inquired: “Where's Halleg?”
“Ah,” Starko said, lacing his fingers together. “I discovered him in the intercept vestibule, spying on the catalog memory streams while they were uploaded by Bokren and Urtigo.Unforgivable violation of our code of ethics. He left the premises. I haven't heard from him since.”
Targ nodded. “All right, then. I shall put out a query for a new apprentice.”
“I will also need you to process the forms for Halleg's official dismissal from the Toveil Caste, with prejudice,” Starko said. “Make sure copies are transmitted to the High Moot, Grand Moot, and central catalog facility for future reference.”
“Why won't you be filing those documents?” Targ asked.
Starko gave a taut smile, then pointed at the display showing the temple guests. “I've been charged with handling their protection and seeing to it that they get safely offworld without further interference from their enemies.”
“You're just driving them to the spaceport, then?”
“No,” Starko said. “For their good and your own, I cannot tell you where they are going. Suffice it to say, I will travel with them until they reach their final destination. After I have completed this duty, I will come back at once to Hekayt Prime to resume my duties as day watch supervisor. Until then, I leave the cathedral in your capable hands.”
Targ clamped a hand on the younger Toveil's shoulder. “Safe travels, then. The Fathers keep you on the journey and see you safely to its conclusion.”
“Hold true in the wind,” Starko replied, his smile broadening as he stood and moved toward the corridor. “All tests temper us like the steel of a sword.” He left Targ sitting in the viewing vestibule, then walked down the hallway to the sanctum.
“I apologize for the delay,” he said to Aldur, with a nod of acknowledgment to Dira. “I had to consult with my superiors on the next phase.”
“Next phase?” Aldur asked. “You're taking us to the Grand Moot. That's the next phase.”
“No, that isn't an option, I'm afraid,” Starko said with a frown. He settled into a pew in the row ahead of Aldur and Dira. “You're still fugitives as far as the High Moot is concerned. I've got people who will represent you in the appeals process. But, for safety's sake, we need to get you off Hekayt Prime as soon as possible.”
The older Hekayti shook his head. “I don't need anyone to represent me. I can stand for myself. The facts are now dutifully stored in the catalog.”
“If that were true, I would agree,” Starko replied.
Dira scowled. “Why wouldn't it be true? We both went through the upload process!”
The Sjo nodded. “Your memories are properly stored, Lady Urtigo. However, the Ledelkrig had planted a sympathizer in the ranks of the Toveil. One of our apprentices, Halleg, erased Aldur's upload before it could be broadcast for wide storage. I'm sorry. He has been banished from the Toveil caste in disgrace for his actions.”
Aldur rubbed at the sore knuckles of his left hand. “I'm here. This is a Toveil temple. Put me back in the upload vestibule. I will resubmit.”
“The system will not permit more than one catalog update per day,” Starko said.
“Then I wait until tomorrow and upload again. I see no reason to leave Hekayt Prime. My quarrel is with people here on this planet. I will have justice!”
Starko shook his head, furrowing his brow. He hadn't expected the old Hekayti to be so stubborn, but in retrospect he decided this was shortsighted on his part. Aldur Bokren hadn't survived this long by being a pushover.
Dira laughed, smirking at Aldur. “Now look who's talking about staying. You were all about getting offworld before I talked you into coming to the Toveil House.”
Aldur bristled. He didn't care for the mocking tone, especially from a female. He opened his mouth to speak again, to press his case further, but the upstart Sjo raised a hand to silence him. Aldur wasn't sure how much more disrespect he could tolerate today.
“My apologies for interrupting,” Starko said, managing a weak, self-effacing smile to try and put the old Hekayti at ease. “I know that you are eager to balance the ledgers against your enemies. I can sympathize. Were our situations reversed, I would feel the same as you. But Halleg escaped before we discovered that he had erased your upload. That means he has more than likely already informed your enemies that you face the upload delay. Tonight would then be an ideal time for the Ledelkrig to strike again – this time in numbers that we cannot hope to repel. They have already risked an open caste war to try to kill you once. Why would they stop now?”
“No offense, Bokren,” Dira said, resting a hand on his left arm, “but I prefer my chances with Starko's protection, as far from Hekayt Prime as possible, until the fire dies down. I won't let you stay here and get yourself killed just to avoid keeping your promise to repay me for the losses that I've suffered.”
Aldur rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He grunted. “I agree that my chances are slim without your protection, Starko. I do not fear death, but I fear dying foolishly. As you say, so shall it be.”
“Excellent,” Starko said. “I have already reserved a vehicle from the motor pool. We will drive to the spaceport and secure passage offworld.”
“One other stop, please,” Dira replied, looking toward Starko, whose eyebrows twitched upward. “I have few precious things left to me on this world, but I do want the means to provide for myself should the need arise. There's a deposit box in the central vault facility. It won't take long.”
“Very well,” Starko agreed. “One stop at the vault.”
<<>>
“I fail to see the logic behind this,” complained Gridan Revidu. He paced the length of the High Moot conference table, alone in the grand chamber save for the soldier, Rojt Omara. Tall windows overlooked the cityscape as misty evening settled over the harbor. “The matter could be resolved instantly if Starko brought them here. Taking them offworld feels clumsy. It feels like too many moving parts, Rojt.”
Rojt nodded. He didn't entirely disagree with the Konterbeid's complaint. However, he did not answer to Gridan Revidu. All he could do was attempt to make the decision as palatable as possible to him. “The woman is a complication. If we were just talking about that old piece of driftwood, no one would give it a second thought. Dira Urtigo, on the other hand, does have some prominence in the local business community. Better to let them travel offworld. Accidents happen to tourists all the time.”
“She could have died in the bakery explosion!” Gridan protested. “Why must you people overcomplicate things so much?”
Rojt frowned. “That explosion wasn't some isolated incident, unseen by anyone. We cannot dress up a Ledelkrig raid as a gas main going boom. People saw it. They saw two soldiers try to kill an old man. They saw Urtigo gun down the soldiers. They saw more soldiers invade the bakery. They saw the Bokren and Urtigo escape on the hoverbike. They saw the explosion, which occurred as the bike sped away. We cannot make people unsee that which they have seen, unless it is your contention that we should assassinate every single witness.”
Gridan raised an eyebrow. “That strikes me as less risky than turning Aldur Bokren loose on the galaxy. I know you trust this Starko fellow, but we should not underestimate that old Hekayti. He has proven to be more resourceful than even I gave him credit for.” He stopped, his back to Rojt as he watched the traffic buzzing below. “However, no, I don't want the business council coming to the High Moot and complaining about the loss of their favorite proprietors. So, I suppose we can let them live another day. If there's nothing else, Rojt, you may go.”
“As you wish, sir,” the Ledelkrig warrior replied, bowing his head. He turned and stepped through whooshing doors into the main corridor of the High Moot tower pinnacle. Two more warriors waited on either side of the great hangar door that opened onto the ovular landing pad where Rojt's caste-assigned shuttle crouched in waiting. The soldiers thumped their chests in salute to the senior warrior. He returned the gesture, proceeding through the massive doorway to approach the ramp of the shuttle.
“All set?” asked the pilot, an earnest young Ledelkrig apprentice who was just completing the final steps of the pre-flight checklist. He wore a thick ponytail braided with silver to signify that he was not yet masculine enough to claim full rank as a member of the Ledelkrig caste. After he completed this inaugural tour as Rojt's pilot, he might earn the right to clip the last of the womanly hair and wear his scalp clean in the way of real Hekayti males.
“Yes, Zent,” Rojt said, perusing the hull of the shuttle, watching for blemishes but finding none. The apprentice seemed to have done an adequate job maintaining the vehicle. “Ready to depart?”
“Aye, sir!” Zent proceeded up the ramp ahead of his passenger. “Destination?”
“Kjernkor. Grand Moot Tower. Straight shot, please. No sightseeing.”