by Jo Zebedee
“You’re not being fair, Lich,” he said. “I didn’t ask you to stop.” He held up a hand, cutting off Lichio’s protests. “I told myself you’d come round, eventually, and let things go on.”
“But you never had anyone else?” It was important to know, and he understood how Josef had been feeling, the breath-stopping fear that he hadn’t been enough, that what they’d had wasn’t real.
“Never.”
Relief flooded Lichio, lifting the draining tiredness. He’d been right to ask Josef to come back. “So, do you still want an ambassador?” His heart gave an extra thud, dull in his chest. “Is it still possible, do you think?”
“I think so.” Josef smiled, his face relaxing, crinkled laughter lines framing his eyes. “I want you to come with me. You know that. I think you need to come with me – Abendau will suck you back down. Staying here, tempted by all your duties, will too.”
Cautiously, Lichio nodded. This was his chance to do so, perhaps his only chance before he took the next opportunity offered to him, and the next. A chance to be happy – to have that wrapped up in something he’d been so terrified of was an irony hard to miss.
“I agree. But first...” If he’d been afraid of his last words, what of this? “Kare is taking the palace. I need to support him.” He met Josef’s eyes, desperate for understanding. It wasn’t just Josef he had committed to, even if he’d never wanted to recognise it. Kare had been his leader for ten years – longer, from right back at the Banned. No matter how much he wanted to seize this chance and go to Mersor, he could not walk away. It wasn’t about being someone’s number two and supporting them in practical ways. It was about loyalty – about being prepared to lay his life down, if demanded of him, and lose whatever future he had gained.
“Do you understand? I can’t let him go in alone, not if I can help. He ordered me to watch over the boy – and I failed. The children will arrive in Abendau soon – Kare will be facing a firestorm there, well beyond what we hoped he would. I can’t walk away now.”
“Of course I understand.” And he did; he always had. Josef stood. “Do what you must, Lichio. Mersor can wait. For now.”
***
Sonly pushed open the door to the med-bay. Lichio was sitting up, at least, and his skin-tone was better. From hearing who his visitor had been, she thought she might know why.
He raised an eyebrow at her, waited for a medic to finish a scan, and said, “I’m making a habit of hospital stays.”
The medic made a note on the records-screen, and gave a sharp nod before leaving. If he knew who Sonly was, he gave no indication, and she was grateful for that: everywhere she went, it felt like she was running the gauntlet of public opinion.
She sat at the edge of Lichio’s bed. “How are you?”
“Rjala didn’t exaggerate.” He shuddered. “Unbelievably foul creatures.” He lowered his voice. “Perrault told me you contacted Kare. I asked you not to.”
“I know.” She manoeuvred to face him more directly. It wouldn’t be the first time the military had tried to force her actions, and it presumably wouldn’t be the last. Just because it was Lichio made no difference. “I wasn’t prepared to take his decision for him. I gave him the facts – it’s up to Kare how he runs it in Abendau.”
“Very noble of you.” Lichio’s voice was frosty. “It’s a hell of a decision to be handed in the middle of a mission.”
“It would have been a hell of decision not to tell him.” She glared at him; surely Lichio understood that Kare had a right to know. “How would you have me tell him his children are dead if we did nothing? That his daughter was in the torture chambers?”
He nodded, a terse nod. “None of it is straightforward. I would have preferred to run some intelligence for him in advance of the information.”
He had a point. She inclined her head, acknowledging it. “We have analysts supporting his requests at the moment.” She gave a small shrug. “I couldn’t have withheld it from him, Lich. That would have been worse.”
“For you, maybe. Not for the mission.” He gave a resigned sigh. “So, what has he decided?”
“I don’t know,” she said. Nothing had come out of Abendau other than terse requests for information. But she knew Kare. He’d do the right thing, and that was to get Kerra out. And the boy: even if she didn’t like him, he was still a child and she knew, as Kare would, that the Empress would use the children in whatever way she could. She would wish that on no one. She hunched forwards. “Will he get her out, Lich? Is it even possible?”
His face softened. “It’ll be tough. But Kare has the best record of anyone for getting in and out of the palace.” He stretched, and grimaced. “I hear the vote went against you?”
“Yes.” The betrayal welled in her, sharp and bitter-tasting. “The republic’s council voted me off.” While she was on Ferran-V and they didn’t have to tell her in person, the weasels. His look of sympathy made her throat catch, and her voice was choked when she went on. “It doesn’t matter, though – it’s only a small thing compared to everything else—”
“The hell it is.” Lichio sat straighter, his eyes shining, more life in him than there’d been for months. “It’s the most important thing of all. You, more than anyone, spoke for the people. You were the one who made it possible to remove her empire; without the strength of the Abendauii Senate, Kare would never have forced his abdication through. They have not ceded the city’s chamber to her yet – and without it, she does not hold the city.” He took her arm, circling it with his hand. “Damn it, Sonly, in removing you, she’s taken the first step to retaking her empire. If Kare doesn’t succeed in Abendau – and if he does go for the kids, he won’t – it comes down to a political fight. No one else has the position – and the backbone – to take on that fight.”
She wanted to tell him her backbone was gone, that she didn’t have the answers anymore, but he had turned from her to point out the window, at the hub’s distant lights.
“All the people in the outer zone, barely scraping a living… she’ll turn on them, like never before. They supported you. The Ferrans—” He shuddered, his face bleak. “You have no idea what it was like in that forest. She killed a planet that way – kids, old people, everyone. She’ll do it again if she has to.”
She didn’t need a lecture in politics. She’d spent all day – between fretting about him, Kerra and Kare – worrying about what the Empress would do if the republic didn’t have the strength to oppose her. “I know what she did, Lich.” She also knew that she wasn’t the person to take the fight to her. With her dirty exposé, delivered with devastating timing, the Empress had seen to that.
“But have you seen it? I was on Corun, remember? You didn’t believe me about the sort of planet it was. You said nowhere could be that bad, but it was. They had nothing: it was grey from the sky to the ground. The most miserable place you could imagine.”
His eyes looked far away, as he relived his first mission as an officer. What age had he been? Seventeen at most. Far, far too young to be in command, but that had been the way of it in the Banned – childhoods lost to the knowledge the base could be attacked at any moment, and if you were caught and a rebel, it didn’t matter what age you were.
“The Empress ordered the dome broken to get what she wanted,” he said. “Children died choking on the air. Children I’d known. Local soldiers I’d trained.” His face twisted as he tried to get his point across. “How many more Coruns are there in the outer rim? How many more Ferran-Vs? She will spread across the galaxy, taking everything Kare has built in the last ten years.” He tapped her arm. “Everything you built. You can’t let her.”
“I can’t stop her.” He had to know that; he wasn’t stupid. “Without the republic’s backing, I’m nothing but a failed politician.”
“The republic didn’t get you to where you are. The people of Abendau did that. You did it – not Kare, not me, but you.”
She pulled her arm away and rubbed it absently. Not Ka
re. Something sparked in her mind, but she couldn’t quite grasp it.
“That’s all history,” she said. “No one comes back from where I am. I’m not just shamed by it, I’m being implicated as a security risk. Someone who’d share secrets to a lover. And not just me – the longer I hang in there trying to ride it out, the more dirt gets slung at others.”
“Kare, you mean?”
She nodded. Yes, Kare, facing a new ream of questions about his past. And Kerra, how must she have felt?
Lichio snorted. “Kare doesn’t give a damn what the news-holos say about him. They’ve said much worse over the years. And you? You think the people who voted for you care about a few naked pictures? They cared about being given a voice, about being listened to, about educating their kids.”
He didn’t understand. It was about her daughter being in the position to be hurt again, because of who she and Kare were. It was about finding a different life than this madness, and if that meant letting the Empress win and walking away, so be it. Let it be someone else’s fight – she and Kare had done enough, surely?
“Lich, she has Kerra.” She had to pause as memories rushed at her, bleak times when she’d lost Kerra. “You said I hadn’t seen what the Empress has done in the past. I’ve had so many people I love in her claws. You don’t know how frightening that is.”
“I know you’ve always fought to get them back.” He swung his legs out of bed. Scratches ran the length of them, red and angry, from the cuffs of his shorts to his ankles. “And you’ve always won.”
“What are you doing?” she said. “Get back into bed. You’re not well.”
“I’ve been worse.” He pushed to his feet and put his hand out to steady himself on the bedside cabinet. “She’s taken too much, Sonly.” He lifted a shirt, folded on the top of the cabinet, and pulled it on with a hiss. “I’m going to Abendau. So should you.”
“We wouldn’t even clear the port.” Kare hadn’t come up with any way to get through its security.
“Maybe not, but we’d make headlines while they eject us. And those headlines might spread. That’s where the Banned started, after all: headlines and passion and nothing more.” He grinned. “Don’t you remember Dad’s collection of holos? The early ones, of him and Ealyn – how they courted the publicity? The lightning raids by the daring pilot and the trusted statesman? The audacity of them? That’s what Dad built everything on – publicity and passion. Nothing more.” He held his hand out to her.
Hope fizzed in her, driven not by his words but by the belief in his eyes and the strength of his voice.
“You’re the politician; you work out how best to play it.” He shrugged. “I remember you coming to power. No one can manipulate the media better than you.”
She, too, remembered the crowds in Abendau cheering her on, as if their shouts would be enough to carry her to the palace. Hands had reached for her, thanking her, as she made her way down the Grand Boulevard. People had held up children who would attend the schools she’d pledged to create.
That time was past – her political career was lost. But she could still make a noise. She could be the thorn in the Empress’ side she’d always been. She could remind the bitch that she could scheme and blackmail and still wouldn’t get rid of Sonly le Payne. Her smile widened. The Empress hadn’t taken what drove her: her belief, her father’s trust. Her strength. She’d only dented it.
“I’ll go,” she said.
“Good,” Lichio said. “I’m sure Kare will try for his mother, even if he breaks cover with the kids. He knows he won’t get onto the planet again. If he does, he’ll be attacking a palace ready for him, with his mother waiting for him.” He glanced at his comms unit. “If we leave now, we might get there before he launches that second attack. He’ll want to get the children to safety first.” He gave a quick grin, a flash of the old Lichio. “While you’re doing your singing and dancing, I’m going to slip into the city and join my agents. I’ll see what I can do to support him and see if we can’t get him out, and the kids.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Kare’s eyes strained against the darkness falling over the city. The port was lit up and busy, especially for the rest day, confirming the data he’d spent the afternoon working on was right and the ship with the children had to be due. Already his original plan had gone awry – he should have been in situ by now – but that was tomorrow’s problem. Tiredness tightened the skin on his forehead, making his head ache, but he leaned forwards and scanned the sky, pushing it back.
Come on, come on; where was the ship? He shifted, but stayed crouched in the bay window of the church, awkwardly tucked into the corner. From here, whilst at a distance, he could make out the skywalk.
Closer to the palace, Hickson and his squad waited. Soon, Kare would have to decide whether to carry out the planned attack on the Empress, abort until he had more information, or, if it looked viable, order an attack on the port.
“Sir.” Simone pointed to the sky just beyond the palace. He nodded, taking in the lights of an approaching ship, and brought his scope up, zooming in as close as he could. A military-grade cruiser, just breaking through the outer atmosphere.
“That’s our boy,” he murmured. He tried to get up, but the roof was too low, so he stayed in his crouched hunch. “I hope.”
“You need to be sure.”
He nodded. He had to wait until he saw the children. Otherwise he was risking the mission on a hunch. He zoomed in further. A good hunch: the ship was big and the squad of fighters flanking it a good size. The Empress wouldn’t send such a fleet for no reason.
“They’re opening the palace doors on the skywalk, sir.”
He turned his scope onto the raised path linking the port and palace and watched as a squad of soldiers emerged and marched across, toys in the distance. “That’s it,” he said, decided. “They don’t send a troop across for import duty.” He watched them move across. “Damn her. She knows the skywalk is hard to take from the ground.”
“Wait.” Simone exuded calm. “Be sure. They’ll be landing soon enough.”
The sound of the cruiser’s thrusters reached them, so familiar over Abendau it was unlikely any of the citizens would stop to notice. As the flotilla reached the port, the fighters broke off, but the bigger ship carried into the main docking bay. Kare shifted position, trying for a better angle, until he could make out the port-side exit onto the skywalk.
That was how he’d been brought into Abendau as a prisoner. He’d been forced across the path high over the gardens, Beck’s bindings on his arms tighter than they’d needed to be, the sadistic bastard already turning the screws. Were his kids feeling the same fear, knowing they’d be taken to the Empress? They certainly knew enough to imagine what lay ahead.
He licked his lips, grainy with the sand that made its way into every building, and waited for the doors to open. Simone stood at the next window, silent and still in the darkness. He envied her calm
“If she only sends one squad, an attack is still viable,” she said.
He nodded, but wasn’t convinced. The skywalk was vulnerable, but only with air support. He wished he’d kept the Roamers close enough to call down. Two or three of their ships could carry off an attack on the skywalk easily, but he had expected to return – assuming he did return – with the rest of the squad to the military transport waiting in orbit.
His shoulders itched, tense with holding their position. He wanted to give an order – any action had to be better than this waiting – but he held his breathing steady and waited. If he got this wrong, Hickson’s team would be exposed.
The squad of the Empress’ soldiers flanked the low parapets. He scanned the length of the walk, across to the palace. More soldiers were at the palace entrance to the skywalk, and no doubt more were spread through the grounds. He thought about where Hickson would need to attack from – the bowels of the palace, practically – and straightened, his decision made: no attack on the skywalk. Not tonight. He might want his
children back, the crawling pain from his vision as Baelan might be fresh and terrifying, but he couldn’t risk the soldiers he’d been living amongst for days. Not on a mission they’d so little hope of achieving.
“Order the squad to stand down,” he said. “If it is the kids, we can get the palace agents to confirm where they’re held tomorrow. Once we’re sure, we’ll lift them from the palace.”
He was making it sound easy, but the Empress must know he’d go after the children; she’d be banking on it. His only real hope had been a swift in-and-out, a snatch and grab before she expected it. Now, he might have to enter with Hickson’s squad. It had been one thing to risk his computer adaptations on himself, but now a whole squad would be dependent on his having got that right.
He ran his hand through his hair, reviewing every option for a rescue tonight, each more desperate than the last, but the outcome remained the same; he didn’t have enough personnel, no matter how good they were. He lifted the scope again, waiting to see who emerged. “The woman must have about a hundred lives. She’s luckier than a sand-lizard.”
“They’re probably related,” said Simone, her voice sweet. Despite his nerves, Kare snorted and had to hide a grin. Unfair to the lizards, that.
***
Kerra stumbled forwards at a hard push from Phelps, barely catching herself from falling into the docking port. Her thoughts were fuzzy, only half on where she was and what was happening, the rest of her focus on the mesh. She could sense the Roamer thoughts but hadn’t enough ability, or power, or focus, to catch and know them. How had her father dealt with this? He’d been able to connect with anyone in the mesh, just by thinking about them. Her own powers were of no help – another of the injections had been given to her just before landing. She didn’t know how long, exactly, they lasted, but from her time in the palace, she could put a guess at half a day at least.
The port’s doors ground open. In a moment, once the technicians had finished, the doors would open onto the skywalk. From there, she’d be taken to the Empress. If there was any hope of stopping that happening, it had to be now. She wanted to find the Roamers and discover where they were and if they were coming for her, but catching something so specific was like chasing smoke.
