Jet frowned. Isn’t that what the queen says she wants, too?
Laksri made a vague motion with one four-fingered hand.
The Royals don’t want these changes to go too far. They fear the destabilization this could cause. They have attempted to gradually improve human rights, it is true… to come to a middle position… but this middle position satisfies neither group.
Jet found herself turning over his words.
She watched two human kids throw a virtual ball back and forth, laughing as it turned into a grinning human head, then a Nirreth one, sticking its tongue out at them, then a penguin, then a hedgehog, then a bear cub…
She also discovered, in listening to Richter and Laksri talk, that she had an audience with the Royal Parents set for the following day.
Since Jet had only glimpsed Ogli’s parents on the monitors a few times during old Rings broadcasts, the news gave her a bit of a jolt, even through two stings. Laksri and Richter discussed it as a mere formality, in voices that indicated they’d expected the request, but the news still managed to unbalance her.
After they’d walked back through the city center, and Laksri showed Jet a few parks and fountains and even a Nirreth-made shoreline, complete with waves, they took one of the sailboat trolleys back to the compound of the Royals.
Jet watched the rest of the Green Zone disappear behind those gates with a sigh.
Despite Laksri’s promise that she would get to spend a lot more time out there now, as an official Rings Player, Jet couldn’t help feeling a wave of melancholy to leave it behind.
It hit her again that she had no true friends here.
Instead of friends, Jet had co-conspirators… along with a nine-year-old Nirreth prince, and a freshwater otter who mostly found it hilarious to splash her.
When they got back to the Palace, Jet had to be checked by the Royal Guard for weapons, listening devices, and other spying mechanisms.
After that, Jet remembered, she and Lakris returned to his quarters.
Feeling her face flush, even with everything going on, Jet shoved that from her mind, too.
What they’d done after leaving the restaurant couldn’t possibly be relevant to whatever she faced now.
Beyond those more embarrassing memories, though, Jet’s mind was blank.
She and Laks must have fallen asleep.
And then… nothing.
Nothing until this.
Richter’s words resurfaced in her mind, what Richter said in the restaurant.
He’d told Laksri that things would be moving fast.
Too fast for Trazen to be a real threat.
Jet was still standing in the doorway, looking down the corridor, when she heard the first screams.
Flinching back from the sound, she tried to decide if she should venture out, figure out what was going on––maybe even help whoever was screaming––or if she should try to escape the Palace. She went back and forth for a long-feeling few seconds.
She made up her mind.
She’d go after whoever screamed.
She needed to learn more first, before she just fled the building, abandoning everyone else who might be stuck inside.
She’d just started to venture that direction down the corridor, when a sharp sound behind her made her turn her head. Glancing around in alarm, Jet clenched her fingers around the hilt of Black, feeling her heart thud in her chest.
It sounded like it came from inside Laksri’s quarters.
“Laks?” she called out, her voice sharp. “Is that you?”
No one answered.
Making another split decision, Jet walked back the way she’d come. She retreated back into Laksri’s room, hitting the panel to close the door.
The sound came again as soon as she left the door’s entrance.
That time, she realized it came from the wall monitor, the one above the low, green couch. Jet walked to the smooth console even as Richter’s face materialized on the far wall, his expression grim.
“Jet?” he said, his mouth and voice a frown. “Jet! Are you there? Turn on the screen!”
Frowning, Jet reached down, punching in the sequence to make herself visible.
She was already speaking as she keyed in the command.
“What the hell is going on, Richter?” she said, sheathing Black as she glanced at the door. Another tremor overhead made her bite her lip. “Is this your idea of ‘subtle’? Because if so, I’m not really clear what the point of all of this cloak and dagger crap has been––”
“It’s not us,” Richter said. “It’s a rival branch of the Royals.”
“What?” Jet said, frowning. “Another rebellion? You’re kidding.”
“No,” he said, impatient. “Royals. Not rebels. Royals. As in, someone who thinks their family should be next in line. The queen is sick, Jet. They’ve been hiding it––”
“Sick?” Jet frowned. “What does that mean?”
“You can ask her yourself tomorrow, love,” Richter said, frowning. “Assuming we all make it to then––”
“Tomorrow? That’s still on? It sounds like they’re fighting a war, Richter!”
Richter rolled his eyes. “We have to hope it is. Don’t despair yet, kitten. This shit happens with the Royals. It’s not ideal, but it’s hardly a new thing with them––”
“You mean coups?” Jet burst in. “Coups happen, Richter? Since when? And why didn’t you tell me this was a possibility?”
“Because I’m not some kind of damned soothsayer, Jet,” he snapped. “I can’t possibly warn you about every contingency that might occur! Now are you going to listen to me, or not?”
There was a silence, all but the distant rumbling of more explosions.
Seeing Jet frown, Richter cut her off before she could speak.
“Look, the point is, this isn’t good, Jet. The Nirreth attacking right now definitely aren’t the lizard-skins we want in charge. The queen’s relatively liberal on the human question. Well… more or less. The Royals bombing us now are extremists. The bad kind of extremists. Their leaders aren’t big on democracy and cozy relations between mammals and lizards.”
Richter paused, his eyes holding a denser intensity.
“…Trust me, you don’t want to be caught by this lot. And they would catch us, because they’d strip you of even the joke of rights you have now. If they had their way, humans would go back to being food––”
“Why is this happening?” Jet said, her voice subdued. “Why now?”
“They’re trying to capitalize on what they see as instability in the realm right now. This is the same group that’s been setting off bombs in the human quadrants the past year or so. They’re using your win as a rallying cry around ‘overly-elevated’ humans.”
Jet felt her face drain of blood.
Even so, the emotion that came up in her was closest to anger, not guilt, or even grief.
She found herself tugging at the hilt of Black, without actually unsheathing her.
“So what do I do?” she said. “Hide in my room, like a good mammal?” She felt her jaw harden. “Where’s Laks?”
“He’s doing a little job for me,” Richter said. “I need you to do the same, kitten. All bets are off now, we have to improvise…”
“A job.” Jet glanced up at the ceiling when the building shook again, watching more flakes of powder come down. “Do you really think this is the right time, Richter?”
“Too honeymooned out, love?” Richter smiled.
Chuckling when Jet scowled at him, Richter continued to stare at her, his eyes reflecting none of the smile on his lips.
“And yes, now is the right time. I need you, Jet. We’re not responsible for this, but we’ve got to be realists. We can’t risk these jokers usurping power. They’ll reverse every bit of the liberalization the queen managed to get on the law books over the past thirty years. Which means we’re going to have to speed things up. I left you a package under the middle cushion of that sofa. I want you
to deliver that for me…”
“Deliver it where?”
Jet was already leaning down towards the sofa as she said it, ripping up the middle cushion. Taped underneath the green fabric was a small device; it looked like one of the pulre cylinders she’d spent most of the day dodging in the Rings.
“You got it?” Richter said.
“Deliver it where, Richter?” she repeated, holding it up for him to see.
“Good,” he said, giving an approving nod. “You’re going to set that outside the bedroom door of the Royal Parents, kitten. As close to the opening as you can without risking someone moving it. And no one’s going to see you…”
His last words sounded almost like a threat.
“What the––”
“I told you,” Richter said, cutting her off. “We have an opening. It’s damned small, and closing as we speak. I need you to do this, Jet, and I don’t have time to explain it all to you right now. You’re either a part of this team, or you’re not. Right?”
“You want me to kill the Royal Parents?” Jet said, feeling nausea rise in her chest. “Why? Didn’t you just say they were better than––”
“Not the queen. She’s staying on the other side of the compound. Ogli’s parents.”
Jet blinked at him. “The queen isn’t Ogli’s mother?”
Richter blinked back at her, then scowled.
“No, for the love of gods. Damn it, has Laks taught you nothing? Ogli is the queen’s biological nephew.”
“Oh.”
Richter’s voice grew harder. “…And not kill. I don’t want you to set foot in their chambers at all. I want you to set the bomb, then get the hell out. Got it?”
“I got it, but what about––”
“Jet! We don’t have time! Are you in? Or not?”
Jet stared up at him.
Feeling her jaw harden, she nodded.
“How much time do I have?”
“Ten minutes. Not a second more. And kitten,” he said, his brown eyes growing warning. “You can’t be seen. Are we clear about that?”
“And what if I am?”
“You can’t be,” Richter said.
Looking up at him, Jet found herself understanding.
She gave him a short nod, gripping the hilt of Black tighter.
“You want me to kill anyone who sees me,” she said.
“Bright girl,” he said. “Ten minutes, kitten. Then back to the room. Laks should be done by then, too. I’ve got loops of the two of you in there, but it won’t fool anyone if you’re gone too long. That ten minutes is firm. Got it?”
Jet nodded. “Yes.”
“Best of luck, kitten.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m engaging the loop. You’re on the clock… now.”
Before Jet could protest, his image faded to blank, eggshell-white.
Cursing under her breath, Jet pocketed the device she’d pulled from the couch cushions and ran to the door of her and Laksri’s room.
Hitting the panel, she didn’t wait any longer than it took to see that the coast was clear. Then she pelted down the corridor as fast as she could, aware suddenly that she was still barefoot.
She was still running when another impact tremor nearly threw her to the stone floor.
Recovering her balance enough to resume her speed down the narrow corridor, she bit her lip, trying to decide which route to the royal chambers would have the least amount of traffic. She hadn’t seen anyone yet, human or Nirreth, so either they’d given some sort of evacuation signal, or they’d locked everyone inside their rooms.
She guessed, apart from the Guard, the latter was likely true.
Another impact tremor shook the corridor, forcing her to reach out a hand to each side and use the walls for balance. She struggled to keep from falling as she jerked her weight back to center and resumed running as fast as she could.
The bombs were hitting harder.
They must be bombing her side of the building now.
Trust Richter to see this as an opportunity.
Even as she thought it, a breach alarm went off overhead.
Jet winced against the piercing sound, fighting not to let it slow her down.
She’d already reached the end of the first corridor, and still hadn’t seen anyone, so she veered left, making a snap decision to use the utility tunnels, even though it might lose her a minute or two in either direction.
She grew intensely aware of her time limit as she ran, pushing hard to reach the end of the Nirreth civilian residency quarter as fast as she could. She left the last series of tunnels making up that quadrant and veered left, aiming for the utility and service tunnels.
Conscious of the soreness of her muscles, pretty much all over her body after the Rings match and then the lack of sleep, Jet found she was having to push herself already. She sweated through the thin shirt she wore, her hand slipping on the first rung of the ladder as she began to climb down into the first tunnel of the utility corridor.
She knew the sleeping quarters of the Royal Parents lived on the next floor down, but she still felt that clock ticking overhead as she made her way hand-over-hand on the metal rungs, praying she didn’t run into anyone.
Climbing down off the ladder at the next opening in the wall, Jet found her luck running out. A security guard stood there, one who looked almost familiar to her in the split second before she held Black in her hand.
She ran at him…
…and ran him through with the blade.
She did it from behind, acting without thought, knowing she had to get to him before he turned around and saw her, before he could cry out, or notify anyone on his VR link.
She cut his throat with the second slice of Black’s blade.
The surprised, horrified look in his eyes hit at her somewhere, deep in the chest.
It struck her then, that she did know him.
He was Parente, the guard who’d pulled Ogli off her that day.
The same day the young prince demanded that she undress.
The realization brought a near-scream to Jet’s throat. Fighting back a hard rush of nausea, she withdrew the sword, feeling sick enough that she nearly staggered.
“Oh my God,” she stammered at him, her words a soft whisper. “I’m so sorry,” she told him. “Friend,” she said in Nargili. “I’m so very, very sorry. Friend. Friend…”
Tears filled her eyes.
Her words were meaningless. He probably hadn’t even heard them.
She’d killed him.
She’d murdered him.
Forcing every shred of feeling back, she jerked out the blade, gagging at the blood that covered his chest. Covering her mouth with one hand, she wiped Black clean on his shirt and re-sheathed the blade.
Forcing her mind back to static, Jet took the weapon off his side holster before he’d finished falling to his back. Without letting herself think too clearly, she shot him with his own gun, twice, right where she’d impaled him with Black.
She hoped it would disguise the signature of her blade.
Mostly, she needed to make sure he was dead.
His eyes remained surprised as he crumpled backwards, his horror frozen where he stared sightlessly at the ceiling. Jet found herself standing there, panting, irrationally wanting to kill Richter, to stick her sword in his throat next.
But Richter hadn’t done this.
She had.
Before she could let the thought go too far in her head, Jet was already gone, running barefoot along that stretch of corridor, hoping like hell she wouldn’t run into anyone else. But she already knew how unlikely that was, given where she was.
She wouldn’t let his death be a waste.
She could at least do that for him.
She owed him that, at least, to finish this thing.
Four minutes had passed, according to her internal clock.
She could see the door to the royal bedchambers up ahead, along with two more sentries. She shot the first one in the face before
he could speak, then found herself dodging fire from the second before she managed to down him, too, getting him first in the abdomen, and then in the chest.
She knew how lucky she’d been, in terms of her own life, at least.
Clearly, she’d surprised them.
They’d been more than a little distracted with the bombs, and likely not expecting the attack to come from a girl they’d just lost money on in the Rings that same day.
She sprinted the rest of the way down the hall to the double doors, gasping for air, her hair damp with sweat. She now cared less about the time, and more about getting this done before she had to kill anyone else.
She nearly fell a third time as another impact tremor stumbled her feet, moving the floor in a hard jerk.
Then she’d reached the doors.
She looked around the hinges, hearing shouting from not far away, maybe from someone who’d discovered Parente’s body, the one she’d left by the utility tunnels. Scanning the doorway for a hidden spot, any place big enough for the device Richter left her, she finally left the bomb in one of the potted trees standing a few feet from the door.
It would have to do.
Burying the device in the dirt, she spent a few minutes grunting and tugging the pot closer to the actual doors.
Then, after staring between them, she pulled the second potted tree on the opposite side closer, too, to make them look symmetrical.
Hastily cleaning up the dirt she’d spilled, Jet turned just in time to miss being fired at by a third guard, who again she managed to surprise, mostly by calling out to him and telling him she needed help.
Everything happened so fast, Jet found herself moving almost on autopilot.
When she stabbed the fourth Nirreth she’d managed to kill that night, he didn’t even have time to look surprised. She’d unsheathed Black while he wasn’t looking, getting him in the throat in the quiet between blasts from the invading Nirreths overhead.
Then, when the bombing and gunfire started up again, she used his gun on the cut, like she had with Parente. Again, the pulre’s blast obliterated the wound left by her sword, just like it had with the first guard.
Before Jet could second-guess any of it, or wonder if she’d missed anything, she was running again, as fast as she could, for the second set of utility tunnels.
The Complete Alien Apocalypse Series (Parts I-IV Plus Bonus Novella): An Apocalyptic, Romantic, Science Fiction, Alien Invasion Adventure Page 44
