Homeguard

by Jason Cordova

  “Ready to get your face back?” Jack asked after the captain left. Andrew swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, and he nodded. The idea of becoming Andrew once more, with no cover or pretense, made him more than a little nervous. Jack grinned, recognizing the look on his face. “All right, then. Let’s go down to sick bay.”

  “My own face again…” Andrew whispered wonderingly.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Twelve

  Christine

  As Christine drove into Lares, Lady Ravenwood slowly became a psychological mess in the seat next to her.

  It was to be expected. Christine knew the noblewoman was made of stern stuff. One had to be to survive as a noble in the Dominion of Man. The issue was that Lady Ravenwood had a horrible coping mechanism. Instead of talking about it, she’d bottled everything up inside and compressed her emotions until she was a quivering bundle of rage and misery.

  The only reason Christine had let her hold onto Maxwell was because it kept the woman occupied and allowed her to drive the vehicle safely through the blustery winds of the city. That, and it was difficult to drive a vehicle while holding an infant.

  The blizzard that had slammed MITC wasn’t nearly as bad in Lares. The winds were high, but there was only a thin, icy sheen of snow coating the ground. Next to a few buildings it had started to drift, but otherwise the full force of the blizzard had yet to hit the town. Christine couldn’t tell how long they had until it did, but she knew they were quickly running out of time.

  She turned and drove down a new street. Much had changed in Lares over the years, and despite the relatively small population of the planet, the city had grown greatly. More businesses than she could remember lined the streets, and there was a housing development going up, a veritable skyscraper in the midst of the smaller towers.

  Christine shook her head. Progress was a dual-edged sword. Whereas Lares had once been a small, quaint town where everyone seemed to know each other, now it was the perfect place for someone on the run to get lost. If she could remember where the city’s DIB safe houses were, the three of them might have a chance.

  The problem was, most of her visual landmarks had changed or moved, and twice she circled the same block, searching for a statue of Empress Sarah II. Eventually it dawned on her that there had never been a park near the statue, and she was actually in the wrong neighborhood. Navigating the vehicle carefully as a sudden gust of wind blew it sideways, she turned down an unfamiliar street and found the statue.

  “There it is,” Christine muttered, annoyed it had taken her so long to find a simple statue that was almost three meters high and had been a big deal when first erected. Frowning, she searched the small rows of houses for the drop sign indicating the home she was looking for. Exhausted and frustrated, she let out a long string of curses under her breath that would have made her mother’s hair curl.

  “You forgot ‘eku fucker,’” Lady Ravenwood murmured as she stared blankly off into the distance. It was the most Christine had heard the noblewoman say since they’d gotten into the vehicle over two hours before. Between bouts of silence and maudlin humming, the noblewoman had built a strange emotional cocoon of isolation around herself.

  “Are you okay?” Christine asked in a tentative tone. Lady Ravenwood didn’t answer; she merely went back to her humming. Against her chest, Maxwell continued to sleep soundly, though it was getting close to his feeding time. However, until he woke up and fussed, Christine was more than content to leave him be.

  Finally, after what seemed like forever, she spotted the house she’d been searching for. The roof was new, and someone had added siding to it, but the crookedly drawn shades and the garden gnome being eaten by a giant lizard were dead giveaways. Plus, Christine vaguely recalled, the house number was placed at an odd angle on the front porch. Sure enough, the numbers weren’t centered, and instead crooked and to the right. She nodded, satisfied.

  “This is the place,” Christine said. Carefully navigating the awkward vehicle into the narrow driveway, she pulled as far forward as she could, activated the parking lever, and turned off the engine. Unfastening the safety belt, Christine looked over at Lady Ravenwood.

  “Lady Ravenwood…Jane,” Christine began, her tone cautiously neutral, “we’re going to go into the safe house and gather the supplies we’ll need to leave the planet. I promise you I’ll get you home to your children on…Avalon? I swear you’ll see them again, but right now I need your help. We’re a team, and for a team to work, everyone has to help. Can you help me, Jane? Can you help our team?”

  Lady Ravenwood turned and looked at Christine. Her expression was haunted, but Christine barreled on anyway. The point needed to be driven home to the noblewoman.

  “We need to buy a ship,” Christine stated. “We can’t lease one, because that would require too deep a background check. If we buy one outright with credits, nobody will think anything of it until it’s too late, and we’re long gone. If this is a stocked safe house like I remember, there will be four hundred thousand credits on hand. Not enough to buy a gate-capable ship. Can you find the rest of the money we’ll need?”

  “Yes…” She drew out the word in a long exhale. Lady Ravenwood looked down at the sleeping infant in her arms, eyes sad. “It wouldn’t be anything to get you twenty million in the next hour.”

  “I, uh, well…” Christine’s voice trailed off. That was far more money than she figured she’d need. In fact, it was beyond imaginable. Once more, the differences between the nobility and the rest of the Dominion reared their heads. “I don’t think we’ll need that much,” she finished lamely.

  “Consider it a baby fund, then,” Lady Ravenwood said as she handed over Maxwell, who stirred slightly at the sudden movement. She offered Christine a weak, but noticeable, smile. “He’s beautiful. Twenty million is nothing to my family, or even…to Mal’s. Let me do this for you.”

  “You’re grieving,” Christine said as she scooped the baby into her arms. “You don’t need—”

  “I don’t need to do anything,” Lady Ravenwood corrected. “I want to. Just tell me where to send it.”

  “Let’s get inside and figure this out,” Christine decided and pushed the vehicle door open. Heavy winds tried to close the door on her. Prepared for this possibility, she swiveled, using her back to keep the door open as she maneuvered out. Once clear, Christine bumped the door with her hip, and it shut solidly with help from the wind.

  “If this is a safe place to be, is it locked?” Lady Ravenwood asked as she looked around at the neighborhood. While not necessarily run down, it had clearly seen better days, even with the evident gentrification efforts.

  Christine shrugged. “I’ve seen worse. Yes, it’s locked. However, I know where the passkey is.”

  Walking quickly along the stone path to the front entrance, Christine paused next to a small, nondescript box. She quickly punched in the proper code, and the cover popped off. Inside was a cluster of key cards. Taking one, she closed the box. Carefully shifting Maxwell to her other arm, she slid the passkey across the magnetic lock. It opened with a click!, and she quickly stepped inside. Lady Ravenwood followed and closed the door behind them.

  The lights were motion activated and turned on as soon as they walked in. It was fairly ordinary for a house on the edge of downtown, especially given its age, but it was modern to some degree. The thermal fireplace was a nice touch, Christine thought, as she inspected the living room. The house was large enough for a team of DIB agents to plan an op from, and the large dining room table off to the side could easily be used as a briefing and command center. On the wall was a large vidscreen, as well as an old-fashioned whiteboard for note taking. The kitchen was stocked with non-perishables and freeze-dried food. She was absolutely starving.

  “I need food,” Christine muttered as she looked in the large cooler. There were sealed cans of something that resembled pork and what appeared to be some old cheese. She grabbed that, then looked in the freezer. Here she had m
ore luck, as her search for protein paid off. In the freezer was an actual ribeye-cut eku steak that looked like it could feed four, safely wrapped in hard material to prevent freezer burn. Christine grabbed it and shut the door.

  “Once I eat, I’ll grab the credits stashed in the safe in the spare bedroom,” Christine said as she turned on the water in the sink and tossed the vacuum-sealed steak in. After a few minutes, the steak began to turn a lovely blood-red color. A few minutes more, and it went into the instant pressure cooker. She set the timer for five minutes, since anything over medium-rare was a crime against steak, and walked back out to see what Lady Ravenwood was up to.

  The noblewoman had started exploring the house, looking everywhere for supplies that might come in handy. Christine was thankful, since it took her mind off of her dead husband for the time being. Other than being there for her, there was little else Christine could do for now. Later, perhaps, she might be able to offer the older woman more.

  “Everything feels weird,” Lady Ravenwood said. “Numb. Like half of me is here, and half is somewhere else. I’ve never felt like this before. It scares me.”

  “Emotional trauma does weird things to the mind and body,” Christine said as she looked down at her son. Maxwell was awake, but quiet, his eyes staring at her with intense curiosity. Bending down, she kissed him on the forehead before continuing, “I’ve seen it shatter grown men, and only hamper little, old ladies. The human psyche isn’t as frail as we’re led to believe. Coping mechanisms, healthy or otherwise, exist for a reason.”

  “Why did they kill him?” she asked, half-turning away to hide her tears. “He’s done nothing wrong. He’s given everything to the Dominion. He never asked to be a bastard son. He didn’t even ask to be legitimized. Who did this? Who could possibly want him dead?”

  “Someone who fears his claim to the throne,” Christine said with a catch in her voice. The image of Wil crawling up the stairs, mouthing for her to run, was pushed ruthlessly into a dark place she’d revisit when she was alone and safe. Then, and only then, would she pour out the pain and cry. “I’d say one of the twins, but…”

  “No, they loved their uncle,” Lady Ravenwood said softly and sniffled. Pinching her nose, she exhaled and looked up at the ceiling. “Eddie and Zeke loved Mal with all their hearts. You don’t know how many times they begged us to let them stay on Corus at MITC. They hated St. Francis Academy so much, even though it wasn’t that far from my parents. No, whoever did this is the reason they’re at war. They love each other, but someone poisoned their thoughts and minds. Or, worse still, one doesn’t know what the other is doing.”

  That’s a thought, Christine realized as the instant cooker dinged in the other room. She let the steak rest in the cooker as she mulled it over. She knew the prime minister, Laird McCarroll, was ruling in the name of Prince Ezekiel. However, the man or woman behind the scenes in Prince Edward’s camp was a mystery. It was even possible the young prince had been caught unaware by the machinations of the court, though she didn’t really believe that. Both of the twins had been at court enough to understand that everyone who was there had an agenda, no matter what they claimed.

  No, this is a dangerous game being played by men and women who live for this, Christine decided. Neither of the twins would want to hurt the other. She was willing to bet neither truly understood precisely what was going on. It both saddened and angered her to think men like Laird McCarroll and his ilk could direct the future of the Dominion and toss away lives so callously from their protected ivory towers of refinement and intellectual dishonesty.

  Men and women who think they ought to rule really shouldn’t, Christine thought as she looked away from Lady Ravenwood. The noblewoman wasn’t like any noble Christine had met before, though part of that was because Jane would never claim her father’s seat in Parliament upon his death. It would undoubtedly go to one of her older siblings. However, this had allowed her to marry whom she wanted. If she’d been first or second in line for the senator spot, the law would’ve required her to marry a non-royal. Lady Ravenwood couldn’t have married Malachi had it been otherwise.

  “I’m starving,” Christine said as her stomach growled. “This steak is huge. Will you share it with me?”

  “I need to take care of stuff in town if we’re to get the ship and escape,” Jane replied.

  Christine nodded and looked around the safe house. “I’m sure there’s a datapad lying around somewhere.”

  “No, I need to go in person,” Lady Ravenwood said. “I don’t use datapads, remember? If I suddenly access my accounts through one, it would get flagged as suspicious, and they’d know where we were when they traced the line back. No, there’s a bank branch not far from here. I saw it on the way in.”

  “Take the vehicle, then,” Christine said as she made her way back to the kitchen. “That way you won’t freeze to death. The incoming storm is nasty.”

  “Thank you,” Lady Ravenwood said. “Check your account in thirty minutes. If I’m not back within an hour, go on without me. We can meet up on Avalon. You know where the Ravenwood Manor is in Los Algers?”

  “I can find it.” Christine nodded. She frowned as something else came to mind. “How do I convince your family I’m on the side of the angels?”

  “I’ll send a message while I’m at the bank,” Lady Ravenwood answered. “They’ll handle it anonymously. I’ve used it before when Mal…when he was off at Trono del Terra, and I wanted to pass a message the courtiers wouldn’t see. It felt silly then, but now? Now, I’m thankful for those messages and the bank’s discretion.”

  “When I find out who’s behind all this, Jane, I swear to you, I’ll make him eat my firearm.” Lady Ravenwood offered her a small smile.

  “Just make sure your child stays safe and healthy,” she told Christine. “Go and eat. I’ll return shortly, or we’ll meet on Avalon.”

  Christine nodded and walked the noblewoman to the front door. After peeking outside to check for any signs of trouble, Lady Ravenwood quickly walked to the vehicle and got into the driver’s side. After a minute of fiddling about, she started the engine and pulled out of the driveway. In seconds, she’d driven down the street and disappeared from view, leaving Christine alone with Maxwell.

  “Well, kiddo, let’s get some food in me so I can get food into you,” Christine said as she carried the baby to the kitchen. Popping open the instant cooker, she saw the steak had been cooked a little more than expected, and instead of medium rare, it was closer to medium well. “Damn. Oh, well. It should still taste good.”

  It was delicious, indeed. Christine scarfed down the thick steak in record time, going so far as to nibble on the bone to get the last shred of meat off before calling it quits. Adjusting her sari, she brought Maxwell to her breast to feed him as she walked to the spare bedroom.

  The reason the safe hadn’t been installed in the master bedroom was simple. That was the first place anyone would think to look if they broke into the house. It was in the spare bedroom behind a false wall in the walk-in closet, instead. It even had the same passcode as the one on Belleza Sutil, which was handy. Since an agent only had three tries before an alarm triggered, it was always tricky remembering which safehouse shared passcodes with which. Fortunately for her, Christine had a much better memory than most.

  The heavy weapons were a definite no, she decided as she went through the inventory. Heavy and cumbersome, they were for assaulting a well-fortified position. If she wanted to take down a bank, perhaps, but that wasn’t what she was here for. Looking around, she finally found the small drawer half-buried beneath some loose ammunition.

  Christine knelt down and brushed the rounds aside. Inside the drawer she found sixteen $25,000 prepaid credit cards stacked neatly with a band around them. She took them all and closed the drawer. Glancing through the safe’s contents, she gave a wistful sigh. There was only so much she could carry, but having the M1924 Browning carbine with her would’ve been absolutely lovely. Though she wasn’
t quite the gun nut her boyfriend was, that didn’t mean she was a neophyte. Every female agent she knew could appreciate the lightweight carbine, which fired a .306 cartridge and could cause some serious damage in a close-quarter gunfight.

  “Next time,” she murmured and closed the safe’s door. She reactivated the lock and walked back out into the living room to pack the cards. Stopping dead in her tracks, she suddenly swore as realization crashed over her. She’d left her bag in the vehicle. “Son of a bitch!”

  Wait, she thought as she spotted something next to the front door. She sighed with relief as she recognized the bag. Lady Ravenwood must have carried it in when they first arrived, and Christine hadn’t noticed. Even though the noblewoman was grieving and suffering, she was more functional than most of the Deebs Christine knew. Competence was a talent that was wildly underrated.

  She hauled the bag back into the living room area and tossed the cards inside. Pulling out her datapad, she was surprised to find she’d missed three messages. Turning it on, she saw Lady Ravenwood had already made the transfer. Christine whistled. Forty million credits had been transferred into her personal account, which she was pretty sure she’d never given her the information for.

  “You’d have made an amazing agent, Jane,” Christine murmured as she scrolled through her next message. It was from Lady Ravenwood, informing her to go on without her; she’d been recognized at the bank. This made little sense to Christine, because it was obvious a noblewoman of her stature—as well as wife to the commandant of the Wraith Corps—would be easily recognizable. Christine had a sneaky feeling Lady Ravenwood was going to stay on planet to try to get some measure of revenge, though she was at a loss as to how the noblewoman would do so.

  The third message was from Joel Espinoza. That was a bit surprising, since he hadn’t told her he’d contact her again anytime soon. It was a simple “return call at earliest convenience” message, which could mean anything. As paranoid as she usually was, there was absolutely nobody who knew she was here. The woman who’d given birth in the hospital was a ghost, disappeared into the ether. No, Christine Dai wasn’t even on the planet. The only person who could have her datapad contact info was Joel.