"I understand how it looks, honored Sjo," said Halleg, head hanging so that his chin bumped against his chest as he stood in the corridor of the Toveil house, just outside the intercept chamber. The virtspecs dangled from his right hand.
Starko wasn't convinced. He had often had doubts about Halleg's suitability for the Toveil. The young Hekayti clung too tightly to the belief that how you accomplish something doesn't matter nearly as much as the accomplishment itself. "Bad enough that you violated the sanctity of the catalog, but you make it worse by abandoning your post at the very moment the cathedral is invaded by the Ledelkrig. And those two could have died! Do you know what happens when you expose yourself to someone's dying moments?"
Halleg's mouth fell open. He shook his head. "No, sir."
"If you're hooked into the catalog stream when someone dies, you go into seizures, slip into a coma, and, ultimately, die," Starko stated. It was a lie or, at best, an educated guess. No one had ever documented what happened under those circumstances. The Sjo didn't care, even if it meant acknowledging that the reason he didn't like Halleg a great deal was because he saw so much of himself in the youth.
"I apologize for letting you down, honored Sjo," Halleg said, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor. He remembered saying these words before, far too often, during the last few months.
"You know that I could recommend you for expulsion from the caste for this?"
"I do, sir." If this happened, he would be disgraced and his family would be scandalized. They would never forgive him, any more than he would be capable of forgiving himself.
"Give me one reason not to do precisely that."
Halleg frowned. He scratched the back of his neck. "I..." He didn't think he could say anything that wouldn't sound like the whiny pleading of a desperate child. But then he remembered something crucial that he'd witnessed during the catalog. "I..."
Starko put a hand on the youth's shoulder. "Out with it, Halleg." Tell me how this will never happen again. Tell me how you will work that much harder to serve the Toveil caste with pride and honor. Tell me how you will learn from this mistake and never repeat it.
"I saw something in Aldur Bokren's upload," the apprentice said, looking up into Starko's eyes. "Something terrible."
Starko felt the lines on his face sag under the weight of the ramifications of those words. "What did you see?"
"He lied, sir, in the moot court. He let Vard Bokren take the blame for the deaths of those Lyiri prisoners, but Aldur Bokren gave the order himself, sir. The catalog doesn't lie. The truth is recorded for posterity." The truth: If Aldur Bokren hadn't committed perjury against his own son, Vard Bokren never would have gone to prison, never would have turned against Hekayti society, never would have risen to the top of the bloody meat pile that was the Medlidikke pirate mob.
Starko nodded. "I see," he said. Poor, curious fool. "You'll have to show me." He gestured toward the intercept chamber.
"As you wish, honored Sjo." Halleg waited for his elder to wave a hand in front of the sensor before stepping into the chamber again. He would adhere to both spirit and letter of the caste regulations from here on out, Halleg decided.
Starko followed, then let the door whoosh shut behind him. He turned to smile sadly at Halleg. "You really should have stayed at your post." A flex of his nanoglove, then swirling metallic molecules created a cloud that spun and spun around Halleg's head before tearing at flesh, hair, and clothing. The young Hekayti tried to throw his hands up to protect himself, but it was like shoving his fists into a mist of guillotines. He opened his mouth to scream, but all that came out was the sick whisper of shredding flesh and the desperate gurgle of blood as Halleg drowned in his own life-giving fluids. Starko flexed the other nanoglove, releasing a second cloud of razor-sharp molecules to join in the consumption of Halleg Otema. When it was done, not a drop of blood remained; not a shred of fabric from his clothing.
The Sjo emerged from the intercept chamber, locked it behind himself, and then moved to the watcher's creche. Several new seneschal bots had shifted into security positions on the front steps of the Toveil house. He checked the surveillance camera in the sanctum. Both Dira Urtigo and Aldur Bokren remained there, sitting on a bench, waiting dutifully for his return.
He scrambled the signal on the holoreceiver perched on the desk in front of him as the transmission arrived. Rojt Omara glared furiously at him. "What are you playing at, Starko?"
The Sjo shook his head, smirking. "Rojt, you suffer from a complete lack of subtlety."
"They want to know matters are well in hand," the soldier said.
Starko nodded, taking a seat at the desk and activating a catalog access holonode. "An apprentice confirmed that Aldur Bokren successfully uploaded the revelation about the Lyiri prisoner incident." The Toveil technopriest tapped several virtual keys in sequence, targeting Aldur's most recent upload for purging on the next hourly cycle with the note CORRUPTED FILE. "The upload's going away soon."
"And the apprentice?" Rojt asked.
"I haven't seen him since," Starko said. "Aldur Bokren and the woman are still here in the sanctum. What does the High Moot want me to do with them?"
"Stay with them," the soldier answered. "Become their protector and defender. Make sure they get safely offworld. Take them to Comorro Station."