Exile's Throne

by Rhonda Mason

  “Senior Commander Vega will see you now,” someone said.

  Trinan and Mai released his arms and dropped back. Malkor, as the highest ranking of the three fake soldiers, would bring in the prize alone.

  As the guard posted outside Vega’s office opened the door for them, Vayne heard Mai’s voice in his mind.

  ::Beginning the shield now, sir. Good luck.::

  At least the man hadn’t saluted this time.

  Vayne and Malkor entered the office and stopped just inside the door. It was crucial that Malkor escape the room before the fighting started, otherwise he probably wouldn’t survive and Kayla would never forgive either of them for that.

  “Well this is a pleasant surprise,” Vega said, and rose from her chair behind Vayne’s aunt’s desk. Agira was present, as expected, and seated where his father had sat. The Influencer was out of its case and resting on the front corner of this desk, like it was a prized trophy.

  Part of her daily decor, or had they broken it out just for him?

  Vega was saying something to Malkor, congratulating him maybe, but Vayne couldn’t make out the words over the sudden roaring in his head. A million emotions, each painful and distinct, ripped through him, threatened to send him to his knees with their intensity. For a minute he thought he would lose all control, and then someone spoke.

  Don’t blow it, Vayne, and don’t damage my machine.

  Vayne was rocketed into crystal-clear focus, everything so sharp that when Malkor left and the door clicked shut behind him, he actually felt the sound.

  “I admit,” Vega said, “I hadn’t thought to see you again.”

  “Pleased?” Vayne asked, trying to decide when to attack. He would have loved to catch them both undefended, but they weren’t so foolish as to be unshielded in his presence, drugged or not. Agira was also shielding the Influencer.

  “I am more pleased than you could ever know.” Vega smiled at him, a smug smile that he recognized from his time with Dolan.

  “You enjoyed watching, didn’t you?” His mind raced with images, times he ran around in Dolan’s emotional labyrinth while Vega looked on, a voyeur of the worst sort.

  Vega’s brow puckered with confusion. “Excuse me?” She looked to Agira for context.

  “Dolan. You enjoyed watching him work.”

  She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “He did love to have an audience for the things he could make you all do. I was merely there to appease him.”

  Liar. She planned several of those games we played, Vayne. Dolan’s dislike of the woman came through loud and clear.

  “Not everyone’s a sadist,” she said with a look of feigned distaste. “Some of us just want power.”

  Look at her. Standing there, judging us as if she were some kind of superior creature.

  The fingers of Vayne’s left hand curled into a fist, and suddenly he wasn’t certain that the action had been his own.

  “For instance, I desire your power.” Vega’s smile returned. “And now it is mine, for however long I wish.”

  Dolan chuckled. Did the sound come from Vayne’s lips? “You think you can replace me?”

  Vega looked at Agira again, and the thrall seemed uncertain. They’d expected him drugged, they hadn’t expected him half out of his mind, in the grips of a phantom takeover, had they?

  Vayne clung to sanity, to his purpose. Incapacitate Vega, collect the Influencer.

  We should take her now.

  ::I want to wait until Agira makes her first move with the Influencer:: Vayne answered Dolan. ::I’d rather I’m undistracted by combat, so I can recognize the feel of her using it.::

  The longer we wait, the better coordinated they’ll be. Dolan’s voice was derisive. Not that these two fools have any chance against me.

  Vayne hesitated. This wasn’t at all how he’d expected this moment to go, under mental assault before he’d even begun.

  ::Will you be frutting quiet and let me fight?:: For the love— He just needed the monster quiet for a few more minutes. He needed control of his body to do this.

  Without warning, Vayne struck. He sent a spike of kinetic energy straight to the center of Vega’s shield, when he was certain he’d meant to hit Agira.

  Her eyes widened as she realized her mistake in assuming him drugged without confirming it for herself, but she absorbed the blow without a hitch, letting it flow around her shield and dissipate.

  Damn. She was stronger than he’d anticipated. And better trained.

  You’re stronger than you realize, Vayne. And now I am as well.

  Vega answered back with a clobbering force that lacked finesse but packed a serious punch. Vayne responded, testing her shields, sending hits here and there while she did the same, looking for any weaknesses.

  Would she find his?

  Agira made the mistake of not throwing at least a cursory blow his way, so he was prepared for the Influencer’s opening salvo when it came.

  She had a soft touch, he’d give her that. She knew how to ease the Influencer’s impulse into the mind gently. But the command to stop attacking Vega was so contrary to his driving need that Vayne could ignore it outright. Or he would, in just a moment, once he tightened his shields a bit.

  Close your mind to her. I could do this in my sleep.

  ::Kindly shut up.::

  Vega stepped up her attacks, whipping slashes across his barrier. He responded with an upward push that should have plastered her to the ceiling, but she only rose a meter off the ground before she centered herself again.

  Agira was doubling down, and Dolan was straining to get loose, to grip the reins of Vayne’s powers and fight.

  ::I would rather see us lose to this upstart imperial than give you control over me ever again.::

  We’re going to lose if you don’t get your shit together this instant. Must I do everything for you?

  Agira tried a different compulsion with the Influencer, imploring him to trust her, to let her in.

  As the feeling of safety crept in, Vayne imagined he heard his mother’s voice. “Rest, Vayne. You’ve been so tired for so long.” It was an effort to turn away from her, to push her out of his mind. “I can help you,” she said. “Just lower your shields.”

  Vega helped him by battering his shields and drawing all of his attention. At least the idiots were working against each other. He sent a thousand stinging needles at her, piercing pressure at too many places to count in her shields, forcing her to split her focus in a way few others but he had ever mastered.

  “You might have my powers, but you’ll never be me,” he snarled at Vega, hitting her again and again. Draining his energy, but she’d falter first—he knew it. He drove her to her knees with his attacks as she focused all her power on shielding.

  An amateur mistake. She should have lashed out at his weakening shields, as he transferred more power from his defense to his offensive efforts.

  Agira, seeing Vega’s weakness, stretched her own shield to cover her commander’s kneeling form.

  Dolan snorted. Once a fool, always a fool.

  Suddenly a gigantic boom hit the palace, a deep bass concussion that shook the walls. Then another, and another. Beyond the confines of their battle, people could be heard shouting, then sirens kicked in, warning of an air raid. More concussions, these closer, like the crack of massive pyrotechnics. The cacophony of sound broke Vayne’s concentration and his shields faltered, as did everyone’s.

  The Influencer pumped into his mind, stripping away his defenses, calling him to lie down and rest.

  Vega slumped on her knees, chest heaving, and Agira gripped the table to stay upright as each grasped the reprieve from the other’s onslaughts to recover.

  The floor was so inviting, so soft, and going to sleep was such a good idea.

  If you don’t get yourself up off that floor this very instant, I will kill you myself!

  Vayne fought back. Fought against the control like he’d never fought before, struggling up. He winced at the pain
in his head as his will sheared against the will of the Influencer.

  “Don’t damage him,” Vega gasped, “I need him whole and unharmed.”

  “I’m trying.” Agira poured her efforts into the machine again, and Vayne thought his head would split in two.

  He lashed out, striking at Agira over and over. “Never… Again…” He choked the words out through clenched teeth. Never again would someone control him.

  “Never!” He flung Agira back against the wall, smashing through her shields as she struggled to retain her connection to the Influencer. At this point, weak as she was, the Influencer had a better chance of defeating him than she did alone and she knew it.

  She poured on a new compulsion, one that said he was weak, that he couldn’t defeat her, that he wasn’t strong enough.

  Vayne recognized it. Dolan had used that very same compulsion on Natali the day he finally broke through her mental shields to reach her innermost self. He had used it when Vayne—driven by Dolan and the Influencer—had raped Natali, violating her in every way. The machine had twisted events for Vayne, so that while Natali experienced pain, he believed himself to be having the most blissful experience of his life.

  The memory couldn’t be undone just because he now knew the truth of what had happened. Whenever the moment invaded his consciousness, his body still responded with lust, even as his mind sickened and everything good in him died all over again.

  Vayne roared aloud. Cried out with rage and pain and shame and hatred and utter devastation. Roared for what he had done to Natali and what had been done to him. He wrapped a fist of psi power around Agira and squeezed until her ribs cracked. Her body crumpled like tissue paper and he dropped her to the floor.

  “Agira!” Vega cried. Still on her knees, she looked up at him in horror, and he felt like the monster he was. Reveled in it.

  “I could kill you before you knew it had happened,” Vayne said, his voice raw. For once, Dolan was blissfully silent.

  “I—”

  “Shut up. If you say. One. Frutting. Word. I will finish you.” He gasped air, couldn’t draw in enough, felt lightheaded. His power, drained before, surged anew. It clamored for release, begged to be unloaded into Vega until he had nothing left.

  All around them the sound was rending the air. More bursts hit with a force that resounded in his chest. Everything was shouting and running and sirens and panic, but inside this office, inside his head, was silence.

  No Influencer in his mind.

  No memories.

  No Dolan.

  Only Vayne and a choice to make.

  The Influencer sat idle on the desk, powered up and awaiting commands. His commands, if he wanted. He could drive Vega around like a puppet. Lift her to her feet and parade her through the palace grounds like a doll—and make her enjoy it all the while.

  He could make her his thrall.

  He could make them all his thralls.

  Anything and everything he ever wanted, could ever desire, sat waiting for him on his father’s desk.

  Vayne calmly, one step at a time, walked to the Influencer. He reached out, hand shaking with anticipation of what could be, and powered it down.

  He turned back to Vega, who had been eyeing the door—as if she could ever escape him.

  “You have something of mine. I want it back.”

  * * *

  Malkor held his ground in front of Vega’s office door.

  Amid shouting. Amid air-raid sirens. Amid sonic booms both near and far, he, Trinan, and Mai held their ground and gave Vayne the time he needed to fight his demons.

  Their first opponents had been the guards stationed outside Vega’s office. As soon as the attack started—whatever the attack was—they tried to reach Vega. Because of Vega’s paranoia of being attacked by even her own army allies, weapon-jamming frequencies were engaged in the hallway; but although Malkor’s ion pistol and standard army-issue sidearm might well be useless too, he and Trinan were much better at hand-to-hand combat than the soldiers were, thanks in part to Kayla’s instruction over the past months. They dropped the two guards easily and left them unconscious on the floor, while Mai held the shield around the room. Vega would not easily escape, even if she somehow managed to defeat Vayne.

  More soldiers had come, looking to evacuate Vega from the palace, and still more, seeking orders and guidance. Trinan and Malkor handled those as well, with aid here and there from Mai. “I sure hope that’s the sound of the Yari obliterating the occupation bases,” Trinan said, wiping blood from a split lip.

  “Either that or the rebels’ coordinated attacks on the city,” Malkor agreed.

  Considering the panic in the palace, it seemed unlikely this was a planned offensive by the imperial army. Or maybe that’s exactly what it was, designed to remove the upstart IDC senior commander from power…

  He heard the door behind him open and spun, ready to do battle again if need be.

  Vayne stood in the doorway. He had a case slung over his shoulder and a tight grip on Vega’s upper arm. Both looked like death—ashen skin, sunken cheeks, sagging like they couldn’t stand—but Vega was definitely the worse for wear.

  Vayne handed a sullen commander over to Mai. “If she so much as looks at you crossly, don’t hesitate—kill her.” The Wyrd nodded, and looked pleased at the prospect.

  “Agira?” Malkor asked.

  “Dead and good riddance.” Vayne looked around the corridor, at the pile of groaning and unconscious soldiers piled there. “By the way, what the frutt is going on out here?”

  “Hopefully the Yari’s travel-by-rook plan worked, and this is the sound of them kicking ass.” Malkor liked that possibility best, because it meant Kayla was still alive and the occupation was finally at an end. “At least getting out of here should be a snap. I’d wager the palace is empty by now.”

  Trinan took off his hologram and slapped it on Vega. At this point no one was going to look at them twice, but it never hurt to be careful. They jogged through the Reinumon palace, Mai prodding Vega when she tried to get the attention of a soldier hurrying in the opposite direction.

  Malkor kept a close eye on Vayne, ready should the man collapse, but he seemed mentally strong despite his physical exhaustion. Most of all, there was a clarity in his gaze, a sense of peace that Malkor had never, ever witnessed in him before, not even when he’d reunited with Kayla.

  It eased Malkor’s worry about the future somewhat. Maybe everything really would be okay. Maybe now Vayne and Kayla could finally reconnect fully, and if that left no room in her life for Malkor anymore, well—he glanced at Vayne once again— that might almost be worth it.

  He commed ahead to Vid and Rigger, and made it to the top level to find they had neatly locked down both ends of the corridor and had the roof access open and ready to go.

  “You’re not going to like what you see up there, boss, no matter which side is doing it,” Rigger said, her lips tight with worry.

  Trinan took the ladder first, then reached down for Vega as Mai prodded her up.

  Before he ascended he heard Vid say softly, “I fear the damage is already done.”

  It was a bizarre scene that awaited them on the rooftop. Canisters floated in midair, perched atop the stealth flyer. More canisters littered the roof, some empty and spent, some quietly releasing an aerosol of some kind. Fluttering bits of debris rained down like snow.

  All Malkor could do was cover his mouth with his sleeve and urge his team to sprint to the dubious safety of the flyer.

  As they ran, though, he feared Vid was right—the damage had already been done.

  23

  ON BOARD THE YARI

  Kayla flew down the Yari’s corridors so quickly that her feet never even touched the molychromium decking. If she’d had her psi powers, she would bear down on the lift, sending it screaming down the chute faster than the maglift mechanism allowed for. She was already calling for the rebels on guard outside Zimmerman’s door to open the cell and wake the pris
oner before the lift doors opened.

  “Get him up!” she shouted. “Grab a syringe full of stims if you need to.”

  Somehow the rebels heard her over the blare of the ship’s klaxon calling all crew to battle stations. Apparently the imperial ships had taken issue with whatever the Yari had just fired at the planet and had decided to fight back. Natali had taken command of the ship and was welcome to it.

  Kayla couldn’t worry about that now. Thankfully the guards didn’t question her authority, and had the cell unlocked and opened by the time she reached them.

  Zimmerman, who looked like he might have been sleeping, was sitting up.

  “Tell me what the frutt is going on,” she demanded.

  “I have no idea,” he said, gesturing to the flashing lights in the hallway.

  “Not that, we’re under attack.” Funny that that was a secondary concern right now. “I mean with you and Ida and your little war. Ida just spouted off some crazy nonsense about Ordochians getting everything they deserved, her crew mutinied against Natali, and apparently the amazing planetary destroyer has just been fired at Ordoch instead of the nearest imperial ship.”

  She stepped into his cell, unafraid of anything at all right now except what had just been done to Malkor and Vayne. She got right in his face.

  “What did Ida just fire at my planet, and how the void do we fix it?”

  “There’s almost too much to tell,” he said. “And if she really did fire the weapon, you’re going to want to start at the cure and work backward—trust me.” He got to his feet. “There isn’t a lot of time.”

  Kayla heard people filing into the corridor behind her, but she ignored them and stared Zimmerman down. “Start talking.”

  “You recall I warned you that Ida was an Ilmenan sympathizer.”

  It was inconceivable that one of Ordoch’s greatest military heroes was actually a double-agent. Or, it would have been, if Ida hadn’t just fired on her own planet.

  Zimmerman blew out a breath. “By now you know the so-called PD isn’t a beam weapon at all, and your history books are full of military propaganda.”