by Jo Zebedee
“Are you sure you can do this?” Silom drummed his fingers on the edge of the co-pilot’s seat. His right eye was half closed, and an angry scar stood out where the laser shot had grazed his neck. The mark was almost as red as his hair; another inch, and he’d have been dead.
Kare swallowed at the memory of his aunt, her red hair spread under her, as red as her blood. The image had been coming and going, invading his dreams: her staring eyes, blue as the sea, her stillness. He forced himself to focus on the ship. He had to land this thing. He'd tried not to think about that the whole way through the flight. In fact, he'd been sure there would be no landing, that the basic star drive would burn out, faced with a flight from one side of the stellar cluster to the other. He was lucky the ship even had a drive– not every planet-hopper did. But Dignad was far enough from the twin central stars to merit it in the bigger hoppers, and Shug hadn’t cut corners. He’d probably anticipated trouble– it seemed to follow Kare around, after all. He frowned at the memory of Dignad and forced it away. After he landed, there’d be time to think about what had happened, to go over the endless might-have-beens.
“Of course I can land.” The ship dropped, quicker than it should, and he adjusted their flight path. “I grew up on a ship.”
“It’s been ten years. You might be a bit rusty.”
“I got us here, didn’t I?” Kare glanced at the beacon: it had got them here. All he’d done was set it up. Still, if Karia could land a freighter at the base when she was seven, he could manage a planet-hopper at seventeen. Oh, gods, let him manage a planet-hopper.
“Is that the base?” asked Silom, leaning forward. “It’s bigger than I expected.”
“That’s the port.” Kare cast his eyes over it until he spotted the docking bays. He selected the landing-programme and sat back, letting the ship take over for now. It was a better pilot than he’d ever hope to be, after all. “The building behind it is the base.”
He could see it clearly now, the long, low building, set into a jungle clearing, and a flutter of excitement settled in his stomach. Would they remember him? He guessed some might. Darwin le Payne definitely would.
If they did, would they let him stay? His breath caught, remembering the night they’d left. It was entirely possible he’d land the ship only to find himself banished to the outer rim colonies where he’d have to hope his mother didn’t find him. Ice fingers ran down his spine at the thought of his father’s body, wracked by pain; his screams. There was no hope of his mother not finding him.
“You’re sure we’re doing the right thing?” There was a slight tremor in his voice and he knew Silom must have noticed, too.
“I’m sure. At least they might give us some credits.” Silom looked composed, but he didn’t meet Kare’s eyes. “Hell, a change of clothes and some unreconstituted food would be good. Besides, this ship won't hold out much longer."
True. “You know, even if they do kick me out, you could probably stay.”
“Like that’s going to happen.” Silom rubbed his neck. “I hope they treat this.” He nodded at the planet. “You’re wrong. They’re going to take one look at you and decide you’re their free pass to legitimacy. The heir to the empire, siding with them.”
Kare tensed. It was his only card, and one he didn’t want to have to play. Still, needs must; he had to get out of his current mess first before he thought about any future trouble. “Maybe….”
“You can’t walk in like it doesn’t matter. It’s your name, and your future.” Silom glanced forward. “And you need to decide what to do with it in the next few minutes.”
“Enough, I know.” Kare frowned. Silom made it sound so easy: go with the rebels, or embrace his mother’s empire. He hadn’t been on the ship when Dad had succumbed, hadn’t seen the horror ahead if he made the wrong choice. Kare adjusted the readout settings. “At least they haven’t shot at us. That’s something.”
One of the port’s docking bays opened and three fighters came up, taking flanking positions around their ship.
“You were saying?”
“Standard procedure, that,” said Kare, not at all sure it was. The port filled the viewing window. It really was huge: five separate docking bay doors, only one of which was open. The ship’s control panel flashed, indicating a switch to manual was imminent. He licked his lips and sat with his hands hovering over the panel.
“Lock,” he said, his voice amazingly steady. The HUD-display zoomed into the port, letting him focus. He kept his hand on the control panel as the ship cruised in, its speed dropping. He wished Karia was here and he was relegated to the co-pilot’s seat again. Silom’s breathing became ragged.
“Pilot, identify yourself.” The voice was harsh, not friendly.
He glanced at Silom, who shrugged. “They’ll have a record of the beacon.”
“Right.” Kare leaned forward to the voice recorder. “Kare Varnon.”
“Your purpose?”
Kare hesitated, sure that saving his skin wasn’t the answer they wanted. “I want to join the group.”
He looked across at Silom, who nodded.
“Keep flying.”
He did, holding a landing trajectory, waiting for the order to pull up and go. The control panel pulsed.
“Permission to land granted. Fighters will remain with your ship; any deviation from your flight path and they will open fire. Come out with any weapons in plain sight.”
Relief mingled with dread; he really was going to have to land the ship. He flicked from the HUD to the panel and back again. Planet-hopper or not, this wasn’t going to be fun.
“Not especially friendly, are they?” Silom said.
Kare tried to keep his voice bland. “It’s a rebel base, what did you expect?”
He flew towards the docking bay. He’d have been more familiar with landing a freighter, the sudden drop into the port; the planet-hopper would land horizontally, and he’d have to time its shutdown just right.
Line the ship up, wait until the nose is in, then reverse thrust– hard, once only– and kill the engines. Don’t go at it too slowly. Not too fast, either; just keep it steady. The constant teaching his dad had given Karia on how to fly different types of craft. It had sounded easy then.
“Are you sure you can do this?”
Kare’s eyes flicked between the speed data and the bay ahead. Steady. “Silom.” He squinted in concentration, checking she was lined up, ready to pull out if not.
“What?”
“If you ask me again if I can land, I’m going to throw you out of the airlock.”
“Okay,” said Silom. He was quiet for a moment, before he said, “You’re very close; shouldn’t you be slowing down?”
Probably. The base loomed, dwarfing the ship. The nose of the hopper was swallowed by the docking bay. Kare’s hands moved to the thrust command. How far in should he go? He had no idea. He waited another moment, reversed the drive and hit it once, hard. “We’re in– ”
Alarms shrieked through the ship. Walls flashed past. The hangar engulfed them as the ship streaked forwards.
“We’re gonna fucking crash!” shouted Silom. He threw himself forwards in his seat, head down and braced.
Kill the engines! His father’s voice echoed as if he was there. Kill them!
“Close down!” Kare yelled. He braced and waited for the impact. He was dead, everything was solved. There was a whine as the engines closed down, but the ship was still moving. Something smashed behind them. Silom yelled, wordless and loud. Kare squeezed his eyes closed. Gods, let it be quick. There was a crash and he was flung forward, the restraints jolting against his chest. The alarms stopped and he tensed, waiting for pain to hit.
Nothing. He sat up, shaking. Filling the viewing window was a solid wall of metal. He clenched his hands together, tight against his chest, and looked at the white-faced Silom.
“See.” His voice sounded like it was going to break. “I told you I could land.”
Silom got up and wal
ked down the ship, anger radiating from him. Kare hit the hatch-command and followed, keeping his distance; he might be quicker than his cousin, but Silom could pack a punch. The hatch lowered, letting warm air in, heavy with the smell of oil, carrying Kare straight back to his childhood, and their supply visits to the rebel base, in a way nothing else could. Gods, he was home. His eyes blurred and he blinked before Silom noticed. Who was he kidding? This wasn’t home. At home, people wanted you.
The docking bay doors thudded closed, and the port stood in darkness for a moment. Then harsh lights came up, illuminating the hangar. A squad of soldiers approached, weapons raised, in their centre a woman dressed in a military uniform, her face stern and unwelcoming. Kare fought back a groan: Rjala. Who else? He stepped onto the gangway, and her eyes swept him up and down.
“Kare.” Her voice was cold. Beside him, Silom tensed, the muscles in his arms bunching as he crossed them.
“Rjala,” said Kare. A muscle twitched in her cheek, and he nearly kicked himself. She was an army officer; she’d want her title. He looked at her uniform, trying to decide what she was, but didn’t recognise the Banned insignia.
“Why have you come back?” she asked.
He stepped forward, but one of the soldiers raised his gun. “No further.”
“Sure.” He stood, trying not to show his nerves. What should he say? The truth seemed as good as anything. “Rj - ”– Ma’am, that’s what you called an army officer– “Ma’am, my mother found me. I had to run.”
Her gaze stayed on him and he looked away, but had to bite back a yell: standing behind the soldiers was a little girl, her heart-face thin, her green eyes shining. She held her hand out, and in it there was a mouse. He shook his head. No Karia; not today. He blinked and she disappeared, allowing him to turn his attention back to Rjala. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
Rjala stood for a moment longer, looking him up and down. He tensed, waiting for her to tell him to leave. Finally, she nodded. “We’ll get you processed.” She turned on heel and took a few steps before she stopped and glanced back. “It’s good one of you survived.” She gave the ghost of a smile. “Welcome back.”
The squad led him and Silom through the hangar, footsteps echoing, to a clearing outside. It was getting dark, just a last line of red in the sky, but it was still warm, a moist heat that made sweat break across his back. The smell of the jungle enveloped him: the high florals of night jasmine; an underlying scent of loam. Something droned close to his face and he swatted it away, but it buzzed back a moment later: a moth as big as his palm, its wings a gentle purple. He remembered this from a child: the jungle as night fell; Karia beside him hunting night-creatures, and the familiarity settled him.
Ahead another building stood, long and low, and from it came the sensations of many minds, all crammed together. He glanced at the soldier next to him. “What’s that?”
“The barracks.”
Barracks? “Why are we going there?”
The soldier’s face was a cross of amusement and pity. “You’ll be processed for the army. All new arrivals are.”
The army? There had to be a mistake. More to the point, there had to be another option. He’d make a terrible soldier. He thought back to Rjala’s cold eyes. She was setting him up, he was sure of it, maybe to make sure he’d leave, or to keep him where she had control over him. Either way, he didn’t like it.
“You know,” said Kare, “I’m wondering if I can see Darwin le Payne? He knew me when I was a kid.”
“Darwin’s dead,” said the soldier. “About a year ago.”
Kare’s stomach fell, surprising him– he wouldn’t have thought it should matter, after the last day on the base. But Darwin had been the only person who’d stuck up for his dad at the end, even if he hadn’t stopped them being forced out. Perhaps the passing years had brought things back into focus, had made the memories of the Darwin he’d known as a child, always welcoming them to base, take the place of the bitterness. Hell, maybe he was just growing up.
Kare looked at the barracks. He’d forced himself into a corner in trying to leave Dignad– his mother would know he was alive. There was nowhere else to go to unless he wanted to watch his back every day, knowing all it would take was one slip for the Empress to close in on him.
Right, then. He put his shoulders back and walked into barracks. How bad could it be, after all?
CHAPTER TEN
Lichio smoothed his jungle fatigues, checking for stains. He’d have liked to get changed into his formal uniform, but when Eevan requested a meeting it was best to move right away, brother or not.
He swallowed his nerves and rapped the door. There was no need to be worried. He’d done nothing wrong. Well, nothing he’d get fingered for. He bounced on the balls of his feet. Come on, let’s get it over with. At last, a voice, low and authoritative, called for him to enter. He crossed the room until he reached the desk and stood to attention, his eyes fixed on the wall ahead, covered with Eevan’s various certificates. Why he felt the need to do so escaped Lichio– surely the major’s black panther insignia was enough?
“At ease, Lichio.” Eevan nodded to a seat opposite his own. “Sit down.”
Lichio sat, fighting the urge to wriggle on the hard seat. Eevan leaned back, crossed his legs, and relaxed into his familiar leather chair.
“You asked to see me, sir?” said Lichio, fighting the urge to call him Eevan. Half-brother or not, Eevan had been adamant that when Lichio joined the army, he’d show proper respect. It was proving more difficult than he’d anticipated, to date.
“We have a pair of new arrivals.” Eevan gave a smile, one Lichio knew well, and not in a good way. “I’m placing them in your dorm.”
So why not send a memo? “Yes, sir.” He waited; let Eevan spell out exactly what he wanted. Lichio wasn’t going to make it easy.
“Does the name Kare Varnon mean anything to you?”
“Of course.” Lichio fought to keep his voice steady; anything about the Varnons was big news, probably the biggest possible in the Banned. “One of Ealyn’s twins. Died a decade ago.”
“Apparently not.”
He resisted the urge to ask which bit he’d got wrong. “No?”
“He arrived about two hours ago. Nearly wiped out the port.” Eevan smirked, and it made him look mean as well as bad-tempered. “Apparently he didn’t inherit his dad’s piloting skills.” He sobered. “How well did you know him?”
“Not very.” Lichio picked his words with care. “I was about six when the ship vanished. Sonly knew him better. Do we know how he survived?”
“He wasn’t on the ship when it went down. He’s been hiding on Dignad until a couple of weeks ago when he tried to leave and attracted the wrong attention. He and his cousin made it off-planet; his aunt died in the escape.” Eevan closed his data pad. “A couple of things worth noting. Three weeks ago, an army squad on Dignad were blown up inside a transporter. There were no survivors. Varnon claims he was behind it, that he had no option but to do it.” Eevan touched his head. “He claims he did it with his powers, that he’s a psycher.” His face darkened. “Given what I know of him from the past, I believe it to be true; when he was a child he showed signs of being an Empath. Do you know what that means?”
Lichio nodded. “He senses peoples’ emotions.”
“He can read minds,” said Eevan. “He can crawl around and take your thoughts. Like his mother.”
Lichio frowned. That wasn’t what an ordinary Empath could do. “Surely not. Besides, aren’t there rules for psychers? Their code of conduct?”
Eevan leaned forward. “His father was a maverick. Kare has grown up untrained. He hasn’t even attended school.” His face reddened, angry. “When we were children he tried to use his powers on me.” Lichio managed not to wince; his brother had a long memory and could be downright vicious. “He had no discipline, his father had no rules, he has had no teacher.” He rapped his hand on the desk. “Which bit of that sounds good?”
“None.” Although most of it was interesting.
“Indeed.” Eevan sat back in his seat. “I don’t want him using his psyche. Not in my army. In fact, if the decision had been mine, he’d have been kicked off base the minute he arrived.”
Oh dear. Eevan over-ruled was never a good thing. “So he stays?” asked Lichio.
“He stays.” Eevan’s smile widened, making Lichio’s skin crawl. “Until we can see if he can live up to the potential of his name. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Since when did he come across as stupid? The heir to the empire, on side and half-way smart, would be an asset; but if he was an idiot or a maverick, he could do more harm than good. “And you want me to do what about it?”
“Work him hard. We want to know what he’s made of.” Eevan pointed at Lichio. “And make sure he doesn’t misuse his powers. I want to know he can be trusted with whatever’s in that head of his. That’s why he’s in your dorm. You’ll report directly to me about it. Understood?”
Perfectly. “Yes, sir.”
Eevan nodded. “Good. You’re dismissed.”
Lichio stood, saluted, and turned to go.
“Lichio.” His brother’s voice was quiet, dangerous.
“Yes?”
“Make sure you do this right,” said Eevan. “I want him hemmed in, I want it done by someone I can trust, and I don’t want any fuck-ups. Keep him in his place.”
“Yes, sir,” he said. “I understand what you’re saying.” And he absolutely did.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“What now?” asked Silom. They’d been allocated a bunk, given a brief familiarisation, then left in their bare, utilitarian dorm, with orders to report for duty in the morning.
Kare shrugged, trying for relaxed; there were a lot of people in the building, judging by the mutter of their minds, and it was hard to think. “Food? There’s supposed to be a mess.”
