BtH66

==Chapter 66 - By the Horns==
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ComStar Executive Medical Facility
Hilton Head Island, North America
Terra
November 24th, 3025
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Julian Tiepolo woke with a sudden gasp—he attempted to sit up, but a sudden weakness caused him to collapse back upon the bed. He tried to speak, but his throat was extremely dry and only a hacking cough emerged.
“The sleeper wakes,” a quiet voice said as the lights slowly increased the room’s illumination. “Here—sip this,” and the face of a dark-haired, rough-hewn physician came into Julian’s vision holding a cup with a straw sticking out of the lid.
Julian tried to sip, but his throat was too dry, too constricted, and the man sighed. He raised the cup at an angle and slowly water trickled down the straw and Julian gratefully swallowed.
“Enough, Primus?” the man asked as he took away the cup—and Julian nodded.
“Do not try to speak yet,” the doctor ordered as he checked his patients vital signs and returned the cup to a tray. “I called for those in charge of this mad-house when you began to emerge from your coma.”
“C-c-oma?” Julian asked in a weak voice, and he began to cough.
“It was necessary to allow your heart and brain to recover—you suffered a near-fatal combination of cardiac arrest and a mid-grade stroke.” The doctor snorted in amusement. “Perhaps it should have been fatal; but the equipment you people have here is astonishing.”
The Primus blinked. And then he realized he didn’t recognize this physician—and he knew personally all of ComStar’s senior medical personnel on Terra. He began to open his mouth, but the door swung open and a smiling man with hair the color of sand entered the room. He was tall, lean, and he wore the pure white robes only allowed to the holder of the title Primus.
“Ves-Ves-Vesar?” Julian stammered.
“Ah, you do remember after all,” Vesar Kristofur said with a bow. “How are you feeling?” he asked with a slightly sardonic smile on his face. “No chest pains? No numbness in the hands?”
“Where is Nicolas?” Julian whispered.
“Dead—my successor as Precentor ROM is dead, Julian,” Vesar said bluntly and Julian looked up in alarm. “So is Myndo Waterly—the two idiots nearly destroyed Hilton Head in the war they fought against each other; the rest of the First Circuit were simply . . . collateral damage.”
Julian blinked. “How long was . . .,”
“Were you sleeping? The doctors have kept you in a medically induced coma for the past month, Primus. To ensure your eventual recovery.”
“A MONTH?” Julian hissed in alarm.
“Yes—well, twenty-seven days to be exact since your heart attack and stroke.”
“Wh-who’s in charge?”
“Well, since you asked,” Vesar chuckled as he pointed a thumb at his own chest and the robes he wore.
“I exiled you, Vesar.”
“Yes. Yes you did, Julian,” he said as he shook his head. “But given the recent . . . events in the Concordat, certain members of the First Circuit . . . suggested that I return. I was already en route when you suffered your attack and ComStar nearly suffered a schism which we could ill afford.”
Julian blanched. “You do not have the support,” he whispered.
“I did not—not when you controlled the First Circuit so tightly, old friend,” Vesar smiled again. “But Nicholas and Myndo managed to eliminate them with quite the bang—and you weren’t here. No one was here to stop me from putting an end to the violence. For reminding our people of what ComStar has as its mission—to unite Mankind once more under our rule. Rule from Terra, Julian.”
“I’ll fight you—you know that.”
“I do. But it is a small matter, Julian. You have been complacent and failed—I shall not. This matter with the Taurians has gotten too far out of hand when it should have been handled far more directly far sooner,” and he grinned.
“You threaten all that ComStar stands for.” Julian pleaded.
“Old man, you are the threat. You have allowed these periphery barbarians under Thomas Calderon to seize control of the HPGs; you are an embarrassment. An asteroid? Playing puppet-master with Liao and Hasek? Sending the Fleet—what little there is—to Taurus? An outline of a plan to kidnap Edward Calderon and replace him with a dupe . . . or brainwash him into your puppet? You would take us from the shadows when we are not ready, Julian. I will not allow it to happen—the Taurians will pay; all who oppose ComStar WILL pay.”
“Enlighten me,” Julian said in a bitter voice.
“Have you forgotten your history? The Core means nothing without scientists and engineers to decipher it—the ship means nothing without a trained crew. Holy Shroud III will take care of those individuals . . . even if it requires years.”
Julian winced. “We haven’t enough agents in place,” he protested.
“Soon enough we shall. I have issued orders already—and ROM is moving. Soon enough the assets will be in place and we will strike at the heart of the matter. Burn the books, burn the teachers; and the Bulls will gain nothing but misery from their possession of this Core. As for Thomas,” Vesar shrugged. “He will pay as well. The ruler must bear the price of his people’s sins . . . Thomas and his heirs will die.”
“We have never acted so boldly, Vesar—you are risking it all.”
“I am saving humanity, Julian,” the new Primus of ComStar said simply. “If Thomas needs to die for that to happen, so be it.”
“He’s not the threat—this alliance between Hanse Davion and Katrina Steiner should be your concern.”
Vesar snorted. “An Alliance that requires just one additional thing, Julian. One little act where two people—a man and woman—exchange their vows. Stop that simple ceremony and the alliance will never be born.”
“You are mad,” Julian whispered from the bed. “We have never struck directly at the leaders of the Great Houses—they will destroy you. And ComStar.”
“Only if they know who is responsible; it matters not the least that you object . . . the orders to terminate Melissa Steiner are already dispatched. With her death, this Federated Commonwealth nonsense will be stillborn—and we can devote our attention to the true threat that is coming.”
Vesar stood as a doctor entered the room, and he sighed. “I fear that it is past time for your reign to end, Julian. The good surgeon here—one of my people, mind you—has the final dose of your medications. I’d wish you a peaceful rest in Blake’s arms . . . but I don’t believe in that nonsense anymore than you do. Goodbye.” Vesar turned and he exited the room as the physician approached with a syringe in his hand.
Julian began to struggle—but he was weak and exhausted; he began to whimper as the doctor inserted the needle into the intravenous drip connected to his veins, and he began to cry as the cold liquid entered his blood-stream. All around him faded to black and his limbs felt as heavy as lead; within minutes Julian Tiepolo no longer saw or whimpered any longer as his eyes closed for the last time.
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