by Jo Zebedee
The door closed behind her and Michael slipped into the seat opposite her. Their eyes met for a short moment, and he gave her the slightest of nods. Her smile widened, and then she looked down at her hands and it faded. She'd promised something she might not be able to deliver.
“But that’s for the future,” Michael said to the ambassadors. “He’s currently undergoing tutelage in the military and politics. When it’s time, you’ll meet him and have a chance to discuss it further. Now, we’re proposing a ten percent levy.”
There was a harsh laugh from the Balandti. “We pay the Empress four.” Margueritte may be the ambassador who grasped the nuances of the people she dealt with, but when it came to numbers, no one sneaked anything past a Balandt. It was why they had the richest planet, with its huge financial district under a glittering dome that had cost millions of credits and provided a means of reducing the gravity so non-worlders could utilise the financial hub.
Sonly broke in. “That’s for legal trading routes, and you pay taxes on top of that. This is illegal; the Banned planets carry the risk of attack and protect you from it. Ten is fair. You’ll have to come up.”
“And you down.”
Sonly met his eyes, the typical pale blue of his people, and held his gaze. It was going to be a long day. Which was fine: she had all day. She pulled her shoulders back, pasted a smile on, and said, “Eight. That’s our lowest; any further and we aren’t gaining anything from this.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Kare crawled under the table, cursing the wall’s disrepair– if he managed not to electrocute himself on the exposed cabling, he’d be lucky. He worked his way through the wires, matching colours, until he completed the last connection and backed out, the smell from the old flooring making him gag. A shower, that was the first thing he’d do at barracks. Then he remembered he wasn’t going back to barracks; it would have to wait until his transporter was established in hyperspace.
He stood and looked around the group in front of him, taking in their mismatched uniforms and inconsistent weaponry. They ranged from a girl of about thirteen up to a man who looked well into his eighties.
“Okay, then.” Kare pointed at the computer system he’d taken apart and rebuilt over the last week, pleased to see lights pulsing on its control panel– at least it still worked. “This direct-links the Corun comms to the Banned fleet. It will be much, much quicker. That’s the weaponry tied in, too.”
“Karl!” called a familiar voice. “Time to go.”
Kare joined Silom, answering a flurry of questions as quickly as he could. As they stepped outside they were surrounded by children.
“Do the magic,” one of children said, a boy of about seven, with a grubby face and eyes that were too big for the rest of him.
“I can’t,” Kare said, “I have to go.”
“Please,” asked another child.
There was a clamour of voices and Kare raised an eyebrow in question. Since Silom’s promotion to lance-corporal, he outranked Kare. For now; he was doing okay in the tech squad. Better than okay, now he’d learned the systems.
“Five minutes.” Silom’s voice was stern, but Kare could tell he was struggling not to smile.
The children gave a small cheer as Kare reached into one of his pockets and took out a sweet. The lad who’d been brave enough to ask first focused on the sweet, and his eyes widened even more. Kare paused, angry– what they really needed was a decent meal, but he couldn’t give them that. Instead, he’d raided most of the sweets in the barracks, exchanging whatever tokens he had for them. There was nothing to buy here, anyway; pretty much everything was embargoed– the system's alignment with the Banned had cost them what little support they'd had from the Al-Halad family. He hoped the rebels were making things better and not worse. He wished he could make the planet better. He wished he could provide a newer dome, one that let enough sun in for crops to establish. Each wish was as useless as the last– all he could do was his job: train them; establish reliable comms to military support; entertain their kids. It felt like very little. He tossed the sweet from hand to hand. “Whose ear is sore?”
The children laughed, and pointed to a little girl in the first row who flushed at the attention. Kare took the sweet and moved it quicker than they could see, then drew it out from behind the girl’s ear. He gave her the sweet, and she grinned at him. He flicked his wrist and more sweets flew out, landing in the hands of the children, his aim exact. He let one float down, over their heads, like a butterfly, and delivered it precisely into the last empty hand.
“That’s me, I’m cleaned out,” he told them, and turned away.
“If you ever jack in the army, we could use you as a kid’s entertainer,” Silom said.
“Their childhood makes mine look idyllic– it’s nice to give a bit of happiness,” said Kare. They started along the path leading from the city to the barracks. “At least Lichio is more open minded than his brother about psyching. You heard him: so long as I was careful, and it was outside barracks, he was okay with it.”
“Only ’cos you scared the living hell out of him, telling him it’d build up if he didn’t. I think he thought you might blow up the barracks.”
Kare grinned at the memory of his meeting with Lichio. “It’s true, though, I do need to use it. I saw what that did to my dad; I don’t intend for it to happen to me. So, it’s practice all the way, making sure I keep up with it.”
He crossed the street, avoiding Silom’s eyes. Keeping up with it was getting no easier as he got older: each time he thought he’d mastered the power, it grew again. Sometimes it felt like it was going to explode out from his ears, that he couldn’t hold it any longer. He sped up, glad to use up the energy in him– he’d have to control the power; who knew what would happen if he didn’t. On a good day, he’d probably only take a few buildings with him...
“You worry too much,” said Silom, catching up. “Tell you what, I’ll be bloody glad to get back to the base. I’m fed up with grey.”
Kare nodded. Before he’d arrived, he hadn’t believed Lichio when he’d said Corun was as grim as anywhere in the outer zone. Now he knew better: the grass, the buildings, even the people looked grey. He glanced up at the dome covering the city, reinforced to the point where most natural light had been filtered out. On the central planets it’d be a smart-dome, maintained by a force-field, but here an old-fashioned, self-sustaining dome was all the planet– or the Banned– could afford. The greyness might be a small price to pay for protection against the toxic air beyond, but he yearned for real air and warm sunlight.
“That’s two of us.” Kare checked his comms unit. “We’re going to be late.”
They started to jog towards the barracks and space dock, taking the road rather than going through the park. When he’d first arrived, the heavy gravity had made it impossible to run; now, after months of training– it turned out Lichio could give Sergeant Stitt a run for her money– he easily ran past the mix of families on their way to the park and workers on lunch. He and Silom reached the space dock with a few minutes to spare. They pulled into formation.
“About time,” said the corporal in front.
“Sorry.”
The light changed and the airlock leading from the dock, through the dome to the space-side, opened. They followed the squad through the short connecting tunnel onto the transport.
Kare sat beside Silom and strapped himself in, pulling out his data pad. A thud from below indicated the last of the equipment had been stowed, and the launch engines started up. He kept his head down, preferring to focus on the figures– the comms on Corun had been challenging to get right, and now he knew the configurations he didn’t want to lose them. Even so, he had to steel himself for the familiar stomach lurch. It settled a moment later, and he relaxed. At another lurch, he glanced at Silom. “We’ve changed course.”
Silom swore. He nodded to the front of the transport. “They’re getting the masks out.”
“Shit.” K
are focused on the commanders, bunched at the front of the transport, and listened in, knowing he shouldn’t.
Rawle had leaned close to Lichio, his jaw tight and tense. His words were too low for the soldiers to make out. “We’re the nearest unit.” He took a quick look along the ship, as if doing a head count. “We have to go back.”
Corun grew larger in the view port. They were returning, and at speed. Word spread through the platoon. Charl unstrapped and took his place at the inventory, lifting weapons out, checking each for its charge before allocating it to his sergeant to hand out. Kare took his, checked it a second time and saw Silom pull an extra charge pack out of his equipment bag. He wished he’d thought to do that.
“Get the masks prepared.” Lichio’s voice was crisp, its usual laconic edge gone.
Silom exchanged a sharp glance with Kare. Rawle moved between the aisles of the ship, handing out breathing masks and deflecting any questions. Sharp fear came off him in waves, making Kare’s breathing tight. Something had happened, something big. If it came to combat, let him be up to it. Let him not freeze or panic. He tried to tell himself he hadn’t on Dignad, but that had been different.
People were in danger here, people he’d been living amongst for months. He’d focus on them, make it personal if that’s what it took. He pulled his mask on, the musty smell off-putting at first, but easing after a couple of breaths. The voices from the rest of the platoon became muted and anonymous, their ranking designators the only means of identification.
As the ship re-entered the atmosphere, Kare joined his designated squad at the rear exit. Silom stood beside him, weapon cradled, radiating calm. Lichio braced at the hatch.
“We’re covering the east.” Lichio’s voice was steady, but his eyes skittered over the squad. It would be his first time leading a platoon, Kare guessed; at seventeen, even with a lifetime at the Banned behind him and four years in their army, it was a heck of a responsibility. “As soon as we land, deploy, and move into the city. This is a pick-up; any survivors, we get them out. There are ships en route from Phoenix base for the other settlements.”
“Sir, will there be hostiles?” asked Silom.
“No, it was a series of air strikes against the domes. There were no reports of hostile fire.”
Lichio pulled his mask on as the ship set down and the hatch opened. The squad exited in formation, with Lichio last to leave. The ship’s engines whipped up the sparse grass, and they moved forward, weapons cradled, over the flat landscape.
Lichio pointed to his left. “Karl, Simon, keep to the middle. Charl and Rawle, move ten feet further out. Keep in contact with me.”
Kare stepped forward with Silom, his eyes squinting against the light. Light? He put his head back and saw the dome wasn’t cracked, but shattered, letting sunlight stream into the city. Bodies lay all around them, some on the grass, others in their transports. They looked like they were asleep. He knelt beside one– the garage owner who supplied the base– and put his hand on his throat.
“No pulse,” he told Silom, who nodded and walked on.
Kare followed, his eyes sweeping across the outskirts of the city, focusing on the minutiae; it was easier that way. He saw a small family, just ahead, and went over to them. The mother lay, hugging a child close to her, his head turned to her. Beside them was another child of about seven. He guessed they’d been trying to get to one of the breathing stations. He pushed the child’s hair from her forehead, and his breath hitched.
“Silom,” he croaked, his voice carrying over their closed comms band. “Is it?”
Silom nodded. It was the girl whose ear Kare had taken the sweet from. He wiped a smudge of dirt off her face. She reminded him of Karia. That thought took the breath from him, and his eyes moistened. He blinked and looked towards the town’s park, where he’d taken a jog around the lake and past the playground most mornings. Were bodies littering it, too?
His fists clenched. They’d known when they attacked the dome the children would die just as quickly as the rebels. Some might have been close enough to get to a breathing station, but very few, not with such an impact. He looked up at the dome; it seemed a lot of trouble for a planet with as little going for it as Corun. A task force would have come from the middle zone systems, spent weeks in hyperspace, and risked Banned-controlled space. All for a remote planet that couldn't defend itself, let alone present a danger to the empire. It didn't even have any minerals worth mining.
“Why does the Empress want somewhere like here?” A chill rose through him. “Surely her empire is big enough.”
“I think it’ll never be big enough,” Silom said. “She’s greedy.”
She was, too. She’d killed the people here for greed, just because she could. Kare pulled his mask off. Toxic air assailed his throat. It stank, a high, acrid smell that hit the back of his nose, making him snort against it. This was how the child had died: she must have been terrified. He coughed as his throat closed. This was how a whole city had died.
Hands grabbed him, spinning him round.
“Put the mask back on!” Silom tried to reach it, but Kare tugged it on, protecting himself from the death surrounding them. An hour earlier, and he’d have been dead with the Corunians. He choked for another minute or so and then it eased.
“I had to know how she felt,” he said, his eyes streaming.
“You’re an asshole,” said Silom.
Kare ignored him. An hour earlier, he’d have been under a table in a ramshackle building with no hope of getting out in time. Cold realisation soaked though him, chilling him. Oh, gods...
“Mike on.” The dull sound of the communicator filled his mask. “Cat 1.”
He waited a moment. Come on, come on, he needed this dealt with. A voice echoed through the mask. “Le Payne here.”
“Lieutenant, it’s Karl.”
“Go ahead, what have you found?”
Kare’s eyes met Silom’s. “We need to pull the platoon out, sir. They’re here for us.”
“Private, what have you found?”
Kare swallowed, his throat still burning. “Sir, Corun isn’t the target. I think they’re here for me. Why attack Corun– what’s here for them? And we’d just left, sir. They knew we’d come back and be easy to locate.”
There was a pause at the other end and then a quiet curse. Be smart, Kare urged; be as smart as I think you are. The volume in the comms unit increased as it was switched to platoon-wide.
“This is Lieutenant le Payne. Pull back to the transport. I say again, pull back to the transport.”
Kare closed his eyes for a moment, sending a silent prayer of thanks, and pointed at Silom. “Let’s go.”
They started to run to the descending transport, Rawle and Charl converging from the right, just ahead of them. As they neared the ship, a thin needle of laser passed them and Rawle fell to the ground, clutching his leg. A second beam passed and Charl fell, too, his screams louder. Kare hesitated, but Silom pushed him forward and they hit to the ground, near the rear hatch. A moment later Lichio joined them, weaving across to the transport.
Kare looked up and saw, coming in formation, at least two platoons, maybe more, of the Empress’ army. Lichio crawled forward and lay flat on his stomach, taking aim, surprising Kare with his professionalism. Beside him, Silom fired, too, their shots keeping up a continuous rhythm.
“Where’s the rest of the platoon?” yelled Kare. He brought his own weapon round, all his training making it a smooth movement, one done without thinking. He opened fire. Lichio jerked his head at the transport.
“Get on.”
“We can’t leave them!” Kare started to get up but Lichio pulled him down.
“If you go back, you’re dead.” He nodded to the transport. “Go!”
Kare paused. “Sir, I can get me and Silom over to them and back. I can use my power to make a shield.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.” He could be back on Dignad, desperate and scared. Nothing had
changed. “I’ve done it before.”
Lichio looked at where the two injured soldiers lay. “Okay, go.”
Kare nodded and scrambled over to Silom, refusing to pay attention to his throat narrowing in fear and the blood coursing so quickly that he could hear it booming in his ears. “Stay close.”
He stood, Silom beside him, and brought the shield up around them. Silom tensed.
“Calm down,” Kare said. “I can’t hold it if you fight me.”
Silom nodded and relaxed a little, letting him strengthen the shield. He took as much time as he dared, smoothing it, making sure it was strong. Satisfied, he took a deep breath. “Run!”
Kare stayed as close to Silom as he could. They sprinted the fifty yards to Rawle and Charl.
“You take Charl,” said Silom. He pulled the bigger corporal to his feet, supporting him under his shoulders. Kare did the same with Charl, and half-dragged him towards the transporter. As they reached the front of the ship, the shield weakened. Kare’s head thudded and he put his free hand on Silom’s back, focusing on keeping him within the decreasing shield wall. Charl seemed to grow heavier with each step.
“Quicker,” he gasped. Silom sped up, running along the side of the ship. Rawle used his good leg to support him, making it look like they were running a drunken three-legged race.
A laser, aimed at either Rawle or Silom, hit the shield and Kare was sure he couldn’t hold the shape any longer. He released some of the protection around him and focused on where it had hit, repelling it. Silom reached the back hatch, and Kare trailed Charl forward and stood in front of Silom and Rawle. He released the shield off them, backing up, staying close enough to block them with his shielded body, instead. The throbbing in his head eased and he strengthened the shield a little. He’d pay for this later.
Hands reached out, taking Charl from him, and Kare tried to control the shield so that it shrank but didn’t fail. It didn’t work. His power drained, and the whole thing collapsed. He tried to bring it back, but was too tired. He reached the hatch, but had to stop, dizzy. He put his hand out, bracing against the ship, and looked back at the blurred line of black soldiers, indistinct through his tiredness. They had a clear shot.
