Abendau's Legacy (The Inheritance Trilogy Book 3)

by Jo Zebedee

  They left the link corridor and passed straight through security. Only when the double doors closed behind them did he give Sonly’s hand a quick squeeze. “I’ll see you after.”

  She paused, as if wanting to say something, but an ambassador approached and drew her down the corridor. She’d have forgotten Kare already, immersed in work – on her deathbed Sonly would be sending one last instruction to someone, somewhere. He made his way to his own meeting room, dismissing his security team at the door, and let himself in.

  “One minute.” Lichio’s scanner gave a buzz as he finished the surveillance checks. He okayed the readout and sealed the door. The busy nature of the hub had its advantages, but privacy wasn’t one of them.

  Lichio took a seat at one side of the desk. “All clear.” But for the brief hesitation in meeting Kare’s eyes, and the lack of smile, it could be the Lichio of old. He had always held hard edges of secrecy, closed-off places where intrusion wasn’t welcome, but there was an undercurrent that was new, a sense of caution that felt wrong. Not unlike Sonly’s masked worry. What the hell had gone on in the ship on the way over?

  Later. He’d get to it later. Kare tapped his data pad open and focused on the data filling the screen.

  “Ops first?” asked Lichio, opening his own data pad.

  Kare brought his check-lists up. It took him back years, to the first time he and Rjala had planned an assault on the palace. He wished his old general was with him now, with her sharp, analytical eyes and quiet assurance. Last time, he’d had only Sonly and Kerra to think about protecting; now he had Baelan, not to mention the planets standing behind the Free Republic whose people would bear the wrath of his mother if he failed. A memory gripped him, of a child’s face strangled by poisoned air on Corun. He hadn’t thought of that attack in years. That was what his mother was capable of: killing a whole planet without thought. This time, it could be whole systems.

  “You okay?” Lichio asked.

  No. But he would be. He gave a quick nod. “Before we review planning, there is something you need to know. We have an internal security issue.”

  “We do?” Lichio was deadpan, and seemingly relaxed. “A new one?”

  Kare rapped his fingers on the desk, a quick pattern. “Yes. The boy.”

  “Baelan?” Lichio swiped his data pad. “From the tribes. Around ten, as near as we can estimate – possibly a little younger, depending when he was implanted. No birth records, of course. Belongs to one of the deep desert–dwelling tribes, we believe.” He glanced up, frowning. “He would never have gone ten years in the city, looking like he does, and not have been picked up.” His mouth twisted, not quite into a smile. “I have security-risk written all over him.”

  “Increase it. There was an incident on the ship.” Incident: he loved military-speak, how so much could be intimated in one word. “His power slipped.”

  “How careless. Presumably there was a reason?”

  There was no way to make it sound good. “It turns out he took a life-oath and the Empress has set a compulsion in him to carry it through. It revolves around me.”

  Lichio leaned back in his chair. “So he’s to what – overthrow you? Report back on your movements?”

  “No.” Kare took a deep breath. “He’s to kill me.”

  “I see.” Lichio managed to keep his face bland, and it was hard to tell if he was absorbing the information or simply resigned to another person’s being added to the list. “Where is he now?”

  “On the Roamer ship with a full squad of guards. Farran is with him – if anything changes, he will inform me.”

  “We can arrange detention with the Ferrans,” said Lichio. “The hub is designed to deal with such eventualities.”

  “No.” He’d known it could come to that, of course, the moment the boy attacked. He laced his hands together. “We deal with it ourselves.”

  “You don’t trust the Ferrans?” asked Lichio. “My intel wouldn’t support that.”

  “No, I think they’re genuine. But this is a big hub, with commercial transports arriving all the time. Information leaks easily.” He shrugged. “If we detain him, and it gets out, the Empress would be all over it: child-napping and detention from me, the great reformer.” Not that it mattered – with his resignation had come acceptance that he would become whatever history distorted him into. “Plus... what would it do to the integrity of the republic if I’m seen to be building a dynasty? It has to look like the boy is here of his own volition. He has to be seen to be so – hiding him will only give room for rumours.”

  “I can keep a security squad on him,” said Lichio. “But I don’t like it.”

  Nor did he, but there were no easy alternatives. Syllte wasn’t safe, and he couldn’t take the boy to Abendau with him – it would be handing the Empress what she wanted.

  “He hasn’t shown any aggression to anyone else, and I scanned him to confirm he has no intention to do so. But he’s far from predictable.” He gave a firm nod. “A squad. A full one. Trained to handle psychers. Our own people only.”

  “It will stretch us.”

  “Then we’ll have to stretch. Unless you see an alternative?”

  “No. I’ll get on to it.” Lichio made a note in his data pad. “Anything else?”

  “Yes. I need you to stay.”

  Lichio raised an eyebrow. “Here? Not on the raid with you?”

  “That’s right.” Kare cut across Lichio’s attempted protest. “I can’t let it be known about Baelan, but the situation needs to be managed closely. One of us has to stay.” He tapped his head. “And it can’t be me.”

  Lichio sat back, rubbing his fingers along his jaw-line. He rarely rushed into an assessment. He’d be sorting through the data about the raid, the arrangements on Ferran and the boy himself, making connections where they were relevant. After a few moments, he shook his head.

  “I don’t agree. I can have the situation managed without any leaks. You need me on Abendau.” He leaned forwards, face earnest. “The agents are my team – I should be leading them.”

  “It’s not ideal,” admitted Kare. “It’s still how I’m running things. You, here; me on the ground. You can support remotely. Besides, I have some intel I want you to run while you’re here.”

  “Go.” Lichio’s voice bordered on the surly, but he was poised, ready to record the new orders.

  “The Ferrans,” said Kare. “I want you to explore the viability of their proposed sister-hub to increase trade to the outer zones.”

  “Get an economic analyst on to it.”

  “No. Economically, it stands up. I want to know which planets they have aligned with, and which great families have strategic alliances.” Boring work, but necessary – if the new hub was agreed and turned out to favour one family over the others, it could bring down any central agreement. “Work your way in with the Ferrans, work out which person would accept any” —he paused, looking for the term— “off-piste payments, and find out what’s happening under the radar.”

  The Ferrans had been more than helpful, offering their facilities, ensuring docking space for the Roamer ships – not a small undertaking – and extending security personnel. In his experience, helpful was not always the same as on-his-side. If anyone could find out what lay behind the facade, it was Lichio, who gave a sharp nod, accepting the orders.

  “The raid, then,” said Lichio. “Arrangements are finalised.”

  Bile rose in Kare, driven by dread. He clenched his fists, letting the pain remind him why he had to do this.

  “Flight departs in the morning,” said Lichio, scrolling through the details. “Space time of two days, followed by a further two days’ recon on the planet before the tribal rest day and the hit on the palace.”

  “You’re sure the Empress has reinstated the rest day?”

  “Yes. Across the city, in her esteemed honour.” Lichio’s mouth curled into a sneer. “It works in our favour; the security numbers will be the same, but there won’t be many in t
he way of palace staff to worry about.” He projected a screen between them. “Final task force, as discussed and now confirmed with Major Hickson. The three specialist soldiers he requested are en route and will be clearing security on false docs; the rest are already in situ.”

  Kare scanned the familiar list of ten names. He reached the second from bottom and a familiar gnaw of worry started, deep in his stomach. He pointed at the screen. “We’re sure about Sergeant Woods?”

  “Hickson insists she’s his best sharpshooter. She’s also an infiltration expert – you need someone like that in the palace.” Lichio leaned back in his seat. “We don’t have many of our own people to choose from; Abendau decimated us.”

  “Does Hickson know she’s always wanted to try her skills out on me?”

  Lichio templed his fingers. “Woods has never been anything other than professional.”

  “She knows I killed Silom.”

  Lichio’s right hand flexed. “You didn’t.”

  Kare waved his protest away. A tit-for-tat would achieve nothing. What mattered was that Woods had always been a professional in his army. If he couldn’t command her loyalty in this, he had no place in the task force. And Lichio was right, he couldn’t afford anything other than the best.

  “It’s a good squad.”

  “Yes.” Lichio’s eyes narrowed. “You’re sure about bypassing security?”

  “I’m sure.” Here, at least, he was on solid ground. “All your palace operative needs to do is upload a programme. It will input false data on selected DNA records.” He gave a half-smile, thinking how much Lichio was going to like the little extra he’d implanted in the programme. “It will also place a new security code into the system – one only you and I will have. We will be able to move freely once it’s uploaded.”

  “How? The palace security banks are impenetrable. You’ve told me that often enough.”

  “I corrupted the palace coding, years ago.” Kare wriggled his fingers. “Given my list of enemies, it never seemed a good idea to get locked out of my own palace by them. It uploads false DNA-linked data to the security banks. It carries the same coding; there shouldn’t even be a blip.” He held a hand up. “I’m not confident of it surviving a full security update, however, so we hold back on uploading it until the night of the attack.”

  Lichio made a note. If he was offended at not having been told about the system, he didn’t show it.

  He brought up a map of the palace, all too familiar to Kare. “To confirm. The security team in the palace has been compromised – they will give you access to the palace. You’ll join a unit within palace security and will be reallocated to the Empress’ private chambers. Hickson’s unit will enter the palace as a cleaning squad and will already be in situ. I don’t want you going in with them – if your cover is blown, theirs won’t be.”

  Kare swallowed, imagining going back into the palace, getting so deep into it there was no easy way out. Just thinking about it made his back itch. Once at the Empress’ chamber, he’d be surrounded. He’d be lucky to make it out.

  Gods, this was hard, harder than the first time he’d planned to take his mother, when he’d been young and stupid and didn’t know what he faced. Now, he knew exactly what could happen within the walls of Abendau palace.

  Lichio brought the screen down. His face was lit by his data pad, almost green, shadows tracing the light.

  “Getting onto the planet?” he said. “You said you might have some thoughts on that.”

  Kare drew in a breath; when Lichio heard what he was going to suggest…. “When my father left me on Dignad, he carried out a space-to-ground landing to bypass security.”

  “Your father was nuts, remember?”

  He bristled in defence. “Not about flying, he wasn’t.”

  “Even so – space-to-grounds are dangerous.”

  “Smugglers do them all the time.”

  “Smugglers have pretty low life spans.”

  Kare drummed his fingers on the table. “The Roamers have been known to take on the odd smuggling run.” Lichio opened his mouth to argue, but Kare held his hand up. “I’ve spoken to Farran about it. He suggests we use four ships – three decoy, one carrying us. He’ll set us down in the deep Southern desert as far from Abendau as possible. I thought your agent network could pick us up there.”

  Lichio shook his head. “It’s dangerous as hell.”

  “It’s as safe as trying to get through the port. Safer.”

  “Getting down is only half the problem,” said Lichio. “The desert has to be survived until pick-up. Farran’s good, but I assume pinpointing a specific location whilst coming in at speed is tricky.”

  “He says he can get close. My desert training is up to date.”

  Lichio tapped his screen. “The port may be safer.”

  Kare shook his head. He’d had the flight from Syllte to think about this. “If I go for the port and get stopped, it’s over. If I go for a space-to-ground and it isn’t viable, I can pull out and retry the port.” He rubbed his temples, running over both options, and brought his head up. “For that reason, we go with the Roamers. If they tell me they can do this, I have to trust them. They know more about flying than either of us.”

  Lichio gave a sharp nod. “Noted. For the record, I don’t like it.” His face softened. “You know, you don’t have to do this. You can force your mother’s hand politically. It will take longer, that’s all.”

  It was tempting, but he’d been over it and over it and this was the only way. He couldn’t leave her alive any longer, not knowing she would never stop. He drew in a deep breath, and it was easier, surer. That was all he had to do between now and the attack: keep breathing, keep it steady.

  “If I don’t….” He couldn’t say what the future might hold. He couldn’t make it real. “Look after them for me, Lich.” The thought of Kerra growing up without him, of Sonly finding her way alone in the future, of his son hoarding his power with no one to guide him, hurt, right in the centre of his chest. His voice turned to a croaked husk. “Promise me that.”

  Lichio put out his hands and cupped Kare’s, holding them firmly. “Always,” he said, tightening his grip. “You know that. Always.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Sonly closed the door of her allocated suite, glad to finally be free of the Ferran ambassador and have a chance to freshen up – and review her notes – before her first planned meeting. The room was so much more suitable than Syllte, with a full range of comms equipment, access to the rolling news-holos, and a wall display confirming time and date across all key planets, proving, once again, that Syllte was wholly unsuitable for her needs, even without additional security concerns.

  She keyed into the central info-banks, setting her bag on the floor. Her larger luggage had already been unpacked and its contents put away. She paged through her official messages, but stopped at the soft buzz of a new message on her personal channel. Absently, she opened it.

  “For your eyes…”

  She stopped, staring at the familiar opening line. What did he want? And why here, why now? He could have sent her a message any time in the past weeks. She read through the message – a request for a meeting – and the final line, the sender’s name accompanied by a flourished monogram she’d have known anywhere. She leaned forwards, connecting her comms to the Ferrans’ central control.

  “You have a James Parnard waiting for me,” she said. “Bring him up.”

  She scowled at the screen. What the hell did Jake want? He must know his family could play no part in these discussions – his father had firmly allied themselves with the Empress. She chewed her lip, thinking over the various ramifications. The offer of a meeting could be the opening of informal negotiations – or it could be an information-seeking exercise.

  The discreet knock on the door took her back, startling her with its familiarity. She got to her feet. “Come in.”

  The door opened and Jake stepped through, clutching a dossier-file against
him. He wasn’t wearing his uniform, or any sort of regalia, but a plain black top and trousers. It made him look older, somehow. That, and the hard look in his eyes. Her stomach clenched, mostly in dread. What if he begged her to reconsider him, or decided to face Kare about the affair?

  She dismissed the security guards and waited until the door closed with a soft thud. The green light over it confirmed the soundproofing was in place.

  “What do you want, Jake?”

  He sat, without invitation, and leaned back, his face tilted up to her. “I needed to see you.”

  A personal agenda, then. She took her own seat, not relieved – politics would have been easier to deal with.

  “We have nothing to say to each other,” she told him. She set her hands on the desk, clasped together. “It’s over, Jake. I’ve made my decision.”

  “I have something to say.” His eyes were fixed and earnest. “Unless you want to be blindsided, I suggest you listen.” The edge in his voice brought a low worry.

  “This had better be good,” she said. She slid her hand under the table, unclipping the holster of her firearm. She had no reason to fear him – and had a panic button that would bring a security squad in moments – but everything in her screamed to be cautious.

  “I’m sorry about this, Sonly. I want you to know this is not my doing.”

  “What isn’t?” Her heart was thudding.

  He slid the dossier across the table. “It’s for you. Compliments of the Empress.”

  She picked it up and filches spilled from it, scattering across the table. She caught a glimpse of one and gasped. Her naked body was clearly visible, Jake’s dark head bowed over her breasts. Her head was back, eyes closed. There was no doubt it was her, enjoying herself. A chill crept up her spine. It wasn’t just that she was enjoying herself – that would have been bad, but able to be faced. What stunned her was the casual intimacy in the picture, the way her leg was hooked around his, the touch of her fingertip on his shoulder. How he held her, so close, one hand cupping her breast.