by Jo Zebedee
He took a last look either side, and jumped for the promised grapplers underneath the transport. He clung with one hand, clipping his harness in place, barely managing to secure it before the speed of the transport picked up. He was held tight against the underbelly of the ship. Quickly, he activated his shield belt.
The warmth of the engines could be felt even through the heat-resistant cloth. He turned his head as far as he could and waited, enveloped in heat and the cordite smell of the propulsors. His bones rattled as the transport flew on. Sand went up his nose, into his ears. He could sense nothing other than the ship, the sand, the jolting in his muscles.
The ship came to a halt. He heard the ground crew confirming it was in the correct bay and checking the personnel list. The dull whine of scanners passed back and forth. His mouth went dry, but he clung on. The shield should be enough for this second check.
He hung, motionless, breath held, until he heard the passengers being greeted in the bay, the ship approved and passed. Their footsteps sounded as they crossed into the compound, followed by the heavy thud of a door coming down. The bay was sealed into darkness.
Carefully, he released the grappler from his waist and shoulder, allowing himself to land softly on his feet. A soft sheen of sand fell from his clothes, mixing with a thin film on the floor – in Abendau, you could fight anything except the sand.
He moved along the length of the ship, foot-falls soft. At the entrance leading into the compound a soldier stood, armed and ready. Bomak slipped his hand down to his ammo belt, taking care to stay in the shadow of the ship, and felt for his dart. Carefully, he held it between his finger and thumb and lifted his hand, his movements slow.
He pulled his hand back, nicking the dart and setting it on its target.
He released it. The soldier, sensing movement, brought his weapon up and aimed. Long-learned reflexes took over: Bomak dived to the side and rolled to his feet, ready to finish the job.
No need. The soldier lay against the door, eyes staring. Bomak gripped under his arms and dragged the body to the ship, using the grappler to lift the man against the undercarriage. With the bays sealed off, he wouldn’t be found until long after Bomak’s work was done.
Smiling, he made his way to the well of the wall, keeping in the shadows. He checked the MX-32’s charge once more, and confirmed its range finder was operational. It felt good to be back on a mission. His hands moved without thought, a dance of death they’d been trained to.
Finished, he located the duct behind him. He pulled a utility kit from his belt, half-whistling as he worked the cover undone. With soft-gloved hands he lifted it away and skimmed into the duct, pulling the cover back in place. Carefully, he made his way along, moving backwards, using his soft boots to guide him. He counted to the first duct-space, took a right into a tighter duct, and slipped along it. If he missed his bearings he’d end up lost in the maze of the compound. He kept the map he’d pored over in his mind, reminding himself where the great hall was in relation to the bay, and slid along in silence, ears alert for any sound.
Noise began to build: the sound of voices, the clink of glasses, some muffled laughter. He found himself breathing easier. He reached the end of the duct and leaned forwards.
He smiled. He was where he needed to be, ahead of schedule. Below, he spotted the blond hair of Lichio le Payne. On another night, he might have taken the shot at him; the Intelligence chief was a significant target on his own. But not yet, not until after Varnon had been taken out. Then, if he had a clear shot, he’d take it.
Bomak brought his MX-32 around, and took position at the end of the duct. The stage, he noted, was exactly in the range he’d expected; the last adjustments took mere moments.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Kare knocked on the door to Kerra and Sonly’s apartment, a quick rap. Now he was ready, his anxiety had eased; focusing on work always gave less opportunity for his demons to attack.
“Come in!” shouted Kerra.
He opened the door to find Lichio sitting at one end of the sofa, with Kerra at the other. She grinned and gave a lazy wave. Lichio took the opportunity to lean forwards and swipe a sweet from a packet she held.
“Hey!” she said, and swatted at him. It was half-hearted, though, and he dodged easily, but the fact she had got so close reminded Kare how big she had got. He used to be able to hold her in his arms. Now she was nearly the height of Sonly.
“Be kind to your poor uncle,” said Lichio. “While everyone else will be getting their feast, I’m working.”
She held the carton out. He took a handful and slipped them into his pocket, their wrappers rustling as he did.
His uniform jacket moved, giving a glimpse of his blaster. Kare touched his own, checking it was in place. When had he and his friends started to resemble walking arsenals? The insurgency had built up so steadily it was hard to pinpoint. All he knew was from the moment he woke up he had some sort of weapon – and a security squad – on him all the time. And he’d had to use both over the years.
He glanced at the closed bedroom door and then at Kerra. “Do you think your mother will be ready tonight?”
“Could be into next week,” said Lichio. “She’s got some new dressy number.” He nodded at Kare. “At least you managed to tie your shoelaces in time.”
“You’re hilarious, Lich.” He sobered. “Is everything ready?”
Lichio’s face tightened, becoming pale and tense. “Yes, everything’s in place.”
Kare frowned. “Kerra, go see if your mum’s ready.” He waited until she’d gone into the bedroom. “What is it, Lich? You’re edgy.”
Lichio gave a slight shrug. “It’s a difficult day.”
Kare paused and then nodded; he wasn’t the only one with demons. He opened his mouth, wishing he could think of a way to convince Lichio to talk to him – anyone – about what had happened. He closed it; tonight wasn’t the time. Besides, Lich would only deflect it, like he had every other time.
“What about you?” asked Lichio.
Kare met his eyes. Lichio was coping; what right did he have to decide whether it was in the right way? At least he could sleep at night. “About the same.” He glanced at his comms unit, wanting to be on the move and occupied, not sitting with the nerves building.
Kerra re-emerged. “A couple of minutes.”
“Right,” said Kare. “No staying up. We’ll be late.”
“You’re boring, Dad.” She popped a sweet in her mouth. “I thought I might have the whole compound round for a party.”
“And you’re very cheeky.”
She laughed, sounding so like Sonly it cut through him. He didn’t spend enough time with Kerra, and she was growing so fast. Soon, she’d be beyond the stage where she wanted to be with him. “You get that from your mother, you know.”
That and her blonde hair. The rest was from him: the piercing green eyes, the small power that she had. The bedroom opened and Sonly came out, dressed in a stunning blue, off-the-shoulder dress. She came up behind Kerra, who moved her remaining sweets.
“How do I look?”
Kerra turned around and her eyes widened. “You look great.”
“Like royalty,” said Lichio. “Which of course you are, Madame President.”
Sonly looked at Kare, and there was silence. She’d worn the same colour when she’d married him, and it had taken his breath away. It did again today.
“That colour always suited you,” he said. Her face fell a little, but when he stood and crooked his arm, she took it.
Lichio got up. “I forgot something,” he said to Kerra.
“What?”
He grabbed another sweet and grinned. “This.” He reached down and mussed up her hair. “’Night, Kerra; I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“’Night.”
Lichio nodded to the two female security guards on duty, and joined Sonly and Kare in the corridor.
“Do you ever get fed up with co
rridors?” he muttered, lifting his wrist-comms to his mouth.
“Yes,” said Kare. His life had been an endless series of them: in the compound, palace and base. Oh, and a few months in the torture chambers, cells lining each side of the corridor. He mustn’t forget that. He glanced at Sonly beside him and took a deep breath. “What I meant to say earlier: you look beautiful.”
She looked up, clearly surprised, and he wanted to kick himself. If he couldn’t pay her a compliment, it was no wonder she’d turned to Jake Peiret.
“Thank you. Did you get some rest?” She looked a little closer. “You were strung out. More than is good for you.”
“About this afternoon.” Their footsteps on the flagged floor were in tandem. “Things caught up with me.”
“It’s not surprising. Don’t feel you need to apologise – I’m glad I was there.” She nodded out the window. “The transports are still arriving. Should we delay going in?”
A clean change of subject, one he was glad of. “No.” He lifted his chin, aware he was already on show. “There are plenty here already.”
Lichio peeled away with a quick nod, leaving his team in place around Sonly and Kare. Within steps, he was talking into his wrist-comms, checking in with his squad, no doubt. Ahead, in the main hall, hundreds of people milled around. Military dress uniforms, not unlike Kare’s own, dominated the room, partners in formal suits and dresses. The low buzz of voices, the clink of glasses, the waiting staff slipping through the crowd was all familiar to him. For someone who’d turned up at the Banned after a life lived in a small house with only Silom and Marine for company, nights like this reminded him how far he’d come. And how little he wanted it. He pasted a smile on his face.
The compound had never been intended for formal events. It had none of the glitz of the city, nor the grandeur of the palace. He leaned close to Sonly. “Perhaps we should we have had this at the palace?”
“The compound is the military hub, that’s what you said.”
“I say a lot of things.”
“I agreed. Why are you worried?”
He didn’t have an answer. There was nothing overt, just a sense of an undercurrent he wasn’t familiar with, as if there were too many eyes in too many places. His back itched, right between the shoulder blades, making him stand straight and stiff with tension. They stepped across to the door and he glanced at Sonly. “Ready?”
“Of course.”
He smiled. Sonly had been born ready for this type of event. A fanfare blared and the room quietened.
“You were right, as it happens,” she murmured. “This time. It has a different feel. More serious. It’ll remind your guests that people died to win your empire.”
The music ended and they walked forwards. Most of the people attending knew their marriage was nothing more than a political convenience, but the applause that greeted them was still effusive.
“You take the left, I’ll do the right,” he said, but she’d already dropped his arm and started working down the line of waiting guests. He admired how easily she did it: the quick smile, the widening of her eyes, the sure knowledge she was focused on the person in front of her and nothing else.
He turned to do the same. Standing in front of him was Jake Peiret. His eyes watched Sonly for just a moment too long before he gave a slight bow to Kare.
“Emperor,” he said, his eyes not quite meeting Kare’s.
“Captain Peiret. I believe you come in your father’s stead.”
The younger man inclined his head. “He has other matters to attend to.”
Kare frowned at the implied rebuff. But if he knew of Sonly’s liaison, there were others who did, many of whom would be watching his response.
“It’s good that you found the time. We would hate to be without a representative from your family.” Voices had lowered around them, listening, and he spoke into the silence, letting his words carry. “Inform your father I wish his attendance at the palace tomorrow. I assume he will have no other pressing matters.”
“Yes, sir.” Jake gave another bow. His eyes moved, as if he couldn’t help himself, past Kare’s shoulder to where Sonly was, lingering before he looked back at Kare.
Kare paused, not liking the hunger he saw in Jake’s eyes. Behind him, Sonly laughed. Tonight, would she be trying to catch Jake’s eyes, the way she once had his? He winced at a sharp pain in his side but pulled himself straighter, remembering where he was and how many were watching. Loss, grief, whatever he was feeling, would have to wait until later. Jake, he noticed, was still watching Sonly, far too openly. The boy had a lot to learn if he was going to play this sort of game.
Kare inclined his head, making sure his voice was pitched just low enough to carry to Peiret. “Don’t try my patience, boy.”
Peiret looked up, startled, and Kare stared at him, unblinking, until the younger man dropped his gaze. Kare nodded and turned to greet the next dignitary, working his way down the line. When he rejoined Sonly, they looped arms and walked into the room.
“Keep your boyfriend under control,” he murmured. “I don’t like having to instigate public staring contests.”
She frowned and reddened, but didn’t reply.
As they reached the head table directly in front of the stage, he took in the discreet soldiers at each exit. There were a lot of them, more than agreed. “I see Lichio isn’t taking any chances.” He pulled her chair out and waited for her to sit, before taking his own.
He glanced at the name card on the other side of him and nodded, confirming his arrangements. Rilal, head of the Balandt family. He recalled the information he needed: financial base in the mid-zone planets, spreading to the outer zone, the Balandts were prospering under Kare’s rule. He was a useful ally to build. At that, Rilal approached, and Kare stood to greet him. At well over six and a half feet tall, he was one of the few men Kare had to look up to. They shook hands and Kare smiled his professional smile. Gods, he hated these functions – give him a trashing at games by Kerra any night of the week.
“It’s good to see you, Rilal.” For once, he meant it. Rilal was one of the few within the great families whom he liked. Not trusted – Rilal had been brought up from birth to inherit, he knew the game better than most – but at least he understood his agenda.
“Emperor, we wouldn’t have missed it.”
“Are you staying for the final night?” Polite conversation, a pattern of words that was little more than a dance.
“Yes, we’ll stay in our residence in Abendau.”
The first course was served – an exotic medley of fruits, chosen to represent each of the families’ planets.
“We’ll meet – later in the week?” said Kare, peeling a lamquot. He was clumsy as he did, his clawed fingers stiff, and he made a mental note to have the kitchen informed not to serve such a dish in public.
“That would be good, Emperor. I have a new venture I’d like to propose.”
Music started, low enough to allow conversation. Two hours of talking about financial models for the New Empire – and beyond, Kare reminded himself, always force them to consider what he wanted next – was right up there with having his teeth pulled.
“Excellent. I’ll look forward to hearing more. Now, please, tell me how your family are faring – you have a new grandson, I believe.”
He glanced over at Sonly, saw she was sitting beside Tendal Al-Halad, and barely resisted the urge to smile. Finance might be boring, but the relative correlation between agricultural levies and the cost of terraforming the outer zone was positively coma-inducing.
His smile fell away. When Sonly heard what he had planned for this night, she’d never forgive him. It might well be the final thing to break what was left between them. He thought of Jake, watching her, of her grace when she moved through the crowd, how her smile reached her eyes no matter who she was talking to and about what, and he had to set his glass down, unable to swallow. Forgive me, he willed to her.
***
After the formal dinner, with the tables cleared and the room rearranged into an auditorium, Kare mentally ran over his speech. Air-Commander Lyle began to wrap up, his droning voice speeding up very slightly. How did Lyle do it? He was talking about space battles, for heaven’s sake – it took a rare talent to make them sound dull.
“You’re on screen.” Sonly sat, straight-backed, the words coming out of the side of her mouth.
“I am aware of that.” Kare kept a smile on his face, knowing he was the focus of the room. He’d barely moved since sitting down.
Lyle shuffled his notes and looked up at the crowd. “And now, it is my pleasure to introduce our commander in chief. Ten years ago, he led the campaign to take the empire. I give you the leader of Belaudii and the inner planets, commander of the middle zone and protector of the outer systems – Emperor Varnon.”
Applause filled the room. Kare fought to keep his face composed. The screens showed a close up of him, and he managed not to wince. He looked smug, no matter how often he tried to copy Sonly’s calm-yet-pleased look. He tried again, but he looked like someone sick, and stopped. They’d have to live with smug.
A sharp whistle came from his right. His lips twitched into a smile when he saw the source – the ten men he’d personally invited with letters in his scrawled handwriting. All that remained of the squad who’d broken out of the quarries with him. He turned his palm to them – steady and quiet – and the room silenced as he climbed to the stage.
Lichio stood at the side, eyes scanning the crowd, making Kare want to look around, too. He started to cross to the podium, but stopped, uncomfortable. He stepped to the front of the stage where he could see the room.
