by Jo Zebedee
“I couldn’t! It’s so high-profile, everyone would know there was something wrong.” She blew her nose into the tissue. No one understood how much of a cess-pit Abendau politics was. “If the great families realise, they will start circling – they make sharks look good natured – and that will put him under even more pressure. He couldn’t have faced a contention battle. And the only way for him to avoid that is to come across as strong.”
She had thought. Guilt lanced her, at how many words she was putting into Kare’s mouth. He had never backed down from anyone. Not the great families, not the Senate. He’d faced them all, over the years. She’d been a fool, seeing only her side of the picture, striding along the path she believed in. Belief, she’d always held, was what shaped a politician. To have doubts was to falter, and she had never faltered.
She looked out over the desert. She’d needed this, she realised: the chance to talk to someone apart from the whole mess, someone looking in from the outside.
“What do I do, Sam? I’ve been managing it – him – for ten years, and I don’t know what more I can do…” Everything she had done had made it worse, after all.
“If…” He shook his head. “When he comes back, I hope, I’d like to bring him back with me to spend some time at my clinic. It is completely private – I treat a lot of high profile patients, and we have secured suites. It will be quiet, which is what he needs more than anything. He’ll have someone to talk to – not me, or anyone close, but someone who’ll listen and try to help him to cope. It will be targeted help, tailored to him, and it’s what we should have done years ago. It’s what I asked him to consider when you split, and it’s what I’m telling you he needs now. But I doubt he’ll listen to me – he didn’t last time. Only one person convinces Kare, if he digs in.”
She shook her head. “Once, I did. Now, I’m the least likely to.”
Sam smiled at that. “Sonly, you’re still the only one he will listen to. Please, think about it. I go in a week; I’d love to bring him with me. I’d make sure he was helped and be there for him through it. Where else are you going to get an offer like that?”
“Nowhere.” There was nowhere that gave any peace. She glanced at the door, hoping it would open and Lichio would come in and tell her Kare was okay.
Silence stretched on and nothing changed. Outside, the search stretched endlessly. She hated the desert. She hated the whole planet. Averrine’s blood ran through it, not Kare’s – and it never would.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The small ship waited in space, vast Belaudii just visible in the distance. The ship’s position was remote, far removed from the main shipping lanes. Vulnerable.
Phelps watched out of the control-room viewing port. Behind him, the Empress stood in silence, nothing radiating from her but the same tenseness of the crew. He managed not to look back at her – he hadn’t realised how changed she would be, without her powers. How, despite her bearing, her straight back and unchanged eyes, she would feel different. Ordinary, almost. Not the woman he had once served.
He wrenched his thoughts away. The boy would free her powers and things would return to how they should be. He scanned the horizon, glancing from the chrono to the vast emptiness of space. His breathing was tight. Hiactol had promised to support the Empress when he’d last visited, and they were key – they had enough military might to threaten Varnon’s hold on Belaudii. He hoped.
“How long?” The Empress’ voice hadn’t diminished over the years, as her body had – it was still strident and demanding.
“Soo–” A line of light stopped his words, and the horizon filled with ships: cruisers, carrying a complement of fighters each; battleships; several corvettes, lightly armed but heavily shielded. His shoulders went down with relief as he counted across, taking in the numbers. Another fleet converged from a separate jump-point. He turned to the Empress. “My Lady, your attack force.”
***
The door to Sonly’s apartment banged open and Lichio strode in, his face pale, his eyes flitting between her and Sam.
“What is it?” she asked, bracing herself. “Lich, tell me.”
Kare was dead. They’d found him, and he was dead. She was glad when Sam took her elbow and moved closer, practically holding her up.
“The Empress,” said Lichio. “She’s escaped.”
The room moved, she was sure of it, shifting out of position and spinning slowly. She forced herself to concentrate on Lichio, and tried to think what to do. She was the President of Abendau, the central government in the empire, and the wife of the Emperor with proxy in his absence. She had to know what to do, she always knew what to do. She took a deep breath, but it made no difference: this time, she didn’t.
“How did it happen?” she asked.
“Phelps.” Lichio walked towards her. “I’ve just viewed the footage from the tower. It was done from inside. Very slick. They knew how much time they had – the interceptors missed them by seconds.”
“How did they get the cell open? Only you or Kare could do that.”
“That’s what I don’t know. Someone with Phelps – a child, we think, judging by his height – opened it. Easily.” His hand closed into a half-fist as if he wanted to hit out at something, and didn’t know what. “It isn’t possible to open it. The lock is checked on a daily basis. It should not have happened.”
Sonly’s breath drew in, but her throat was so tight it hurt. She’d convinced Kare to let Phelps go in exchange for Kerra’s life. She’d begged him to. He’d told her at the time he was dangerous, that it was a mistake, but she’d insisted.
“Could it have been the Empress – the mind dominance?”
Lichio frowned. “Mind dominance?”
Sam cleared his throat. “Sonly thinks it’s out of character for Kare to have left the compound, and that the guards should have stopped him. She’s wondering if, perhaps, a psycher was behind it…”
Lichio’s face twisted, his eyes full of sympathy. “Sonly… even with a star drive, she’s hours away. It wasn’t her.” He reached his hand out and she went to him. “You’re grasping at straws. He’s the Emperor, their commander in chief, and he gave the guards an order to stand down. A lucid order.”
“They said they were relaxed, that they didn’t feel the need to stop him.”
“They said they know they should have stopped him, but at the time didn’t. Hell, Sonly, I was spitting blood at them, of course they knew he should have been stopped. It’s one thing to know it, quite another to tell your leader he can’t go….”
“I don’t believe it,” she said. "He wouldn’t do it.”
Lichio went to say something and she cut him off. “He wouldn’t.” She took a deep breath, and found her mind a little clearer – whatever had happened, it wasn’t what they thought. She had to hold things together for Kare, wherever he was. She pulled away from Lichio. “I need to call the Senate into committee.”
Lichio paused. “I have to go to Abendau, too. I’m sure it’s where she’ll aim for. I’ll run the planetary defence from there.”
A planetary defence? There was no need for that. Port restrictions should be enough to stop the Empress getting into the city, if she was foolish enough to try. “I can’t authorise that.”
Lichio frowned. “We need the Senate to agree a lockdown.”
“The Senate won’t agree that. I can force through an escalation of the defence level, but not a lockdown. She won’t come here, she knows we’ll take her the minute she does. She’ll take refuge with whichever family is behind this.”
“You’re wrong.” Lichio didn’t drop his gaze. “I need a full lockdown – nothing lands, nothing leaves. I’ve already informed Ryan and Perrault that the ports are on full alert.”
“We are not at that stage,” said Sonly.
“And we don’t want to get to it.” He ran a hand through his hair, obviously frustrated. “I cannot take the chance of her landing. She has too much supp
ort on Belaudii.”
She’d never seen Lichio like this, so focused, determined to force his will.
“If you won’t authorise my control, I’ll take it,” he said. “In Kare’s absence, I am the head of the military. If the Senate don’t cede control, I’ll invoke martial law. I believe she will try to take the planet. Tell them that.”
“Do you really think it’s that critical?” she said, unsure in the face of his certainty.
Lichio nodded. “She’ll try for Abendau: she has to. The timing with Kare, it’s too coincidental – far too convenient… the attack last night, everything. Arrange it, Sonly. Or I will.” He strode to the window. “We had no indication of any of this. Even the warning about last night came too late–”
“You had warning?” Her anger brought her focus back. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
Lichio looked tired, drained even. “I got about three hours’ warning. The dignitaries were already arriving on Belaudii.” He crossed his arms, his mouth tightening. “Do you have any idea how many threats I get a week? On all of us: you, Kerra, Kare. Me. I assessed the one I received yesterday and thought I had enough security in place to counter it.”
“I see. You did a great job,” she said.
He glared at her, his blue eyes hard. “I did. Kare survived; the gunman was taken down the moment he moved.”
“Kare was shot.” Perhaps pushed beyond what he could cope with.
“It’s a dangerous business, and he knows it.” He unfolded his arms and reached for her. “We don’t have time to argue.” He nodded towards the desert. “Whatever’s happening, it’s coming from there.”
“The tribes?” checked Sonly. “They don’t have the strength or numbers, Lich. Not for a full attack.”
“It was definitely Phelps in the tower. I’d know that bastard anywhere. Last night, the attacker was Star ops. Phelps ran Star ops. The families’ retinues were clean – I’ve been up most of the night working on it, and the marksman did not come in with them. Which means he came into the compound via someone on the planet. The only place I have never been able to infiltrate is the tribes. If they have significant support, the city could be overrun by nightfall.” He paused. “Sonly, if Kare was here, he’d know not to underestimate his mother. He’d lock down, you know he would.”
She let his words sink in. If he was right, the Senate would still be voting when the palace collapsed around their ears.
“Better to be safe,” he said.
“All right,” she said. He was right: Kare would move against the threat. “I’ll force it through. But I’ll be doing it in your name, Lich – if it turns out you’re wrong, the loss claims come out of the military budget.”
“Fine,” he said. “We’ll talk economics later. I’m going to put the compound into full shutdown and then join you in Abendau. In the interim, Colonel Ryan has the defence of the city under his remit. I’ll brief him in full.”
“What if they find Kare?” asked Sonly. “Shouldn’t someone be here?”
Sam nodded. “If they do, someone should.”
“You,” said Lichio.
Sam looked around, as if hoping there was another person there. “Me?”
Lichio nodded. “I have no one else. It’s safer here than anywhere; this place won’t be penetrated. You stay here with your family and wait it out.”
Sam looked relieved, and Sonly couldn’t blame him. She wished she could stay. Speaking of which. “Kerra should stay too, it’s safer than the palace.”
“I’ll see to it,” Lichio said. “Now, go.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Belaudii lay ahead, a red ball of sand and heat. Phelps took his place at the command helm of the Hiactol flagship. He scanned the monitor, checking fleet configurations, firepower, distance to the planet, and lifted his chin. “Attack.” His order carried through the fleet, from console to console.
His own ship’s engines flared, the thrust towards the planet beginning. Fighters emerged, darting ahead, ready to engage any planetary defence. The bigger ships, the cruisers, formed a line, cannons focused on the planet below, but Phelps held back on an order to engage. This wasn’t just about taking the planet, but reclaiming the Empress’ city. Preferably not in a hundred pieces.
The first defence fighters came up from the city, a rolling defence, forming and unforming, shifting in response to his own fighters. Presumably Lyle was still in the city, then, and in command.
“Destroyers in support,” he said. Two lines of destroyers broke from the fleet, taking up position behind the fighters, offering bolts of plasma fire at the defenders. Lyle’s lines began to break, but reformed. Phelps leaned forwards, assessing. He needed to break the Abendauii defence. “And the battleships.”
They moved into place. Shots criss-crossed. Lyle’s fighters darted in and out, joined by a line of cruisers. His battleships tried to engage, but were held back by Phelps’ corvettes and frigates, darting in for shots, retreating out of range. The cruiser line he’d held back began to move forwards, engaging seamlessly. Lyle’s fighters broke, tried to come around the fleet, but the remaining Hiactol destroyers held Phelps’ line, easily holding the attacking fighters off. The Hiactol fleet was massive, more than he’d hoped for – and certainly more than Varnon could have been expecting, given how under his thumb he kept the families. For no one other than the Empress would a great family have been prepared to launch this sort of offensive.
The city’s forces rallied. More ships joined the defenders, easily matching Phelps’ force. He swore, leaned forwards, eyes darting over the monitor, waiting for the moment to engage the cruisers.
The ship rocked from a hit. The defenders had got their cruisers through. He held firm, though. They had to take the city – to be pushed back would mean the Empress’ trying to regain her Empire from a weakened position. Only by retaking her own planet, the symbolic centre of the Pettina Empire, would she be seen as taking her rightful place.
Another shot, and the lights dimmed. His forces were shrinking in number as Lyle’s gained an upper hand. Damn it, he’d known Hiactol might not be enough, had pleaded for other allies.
The formations on his monitor changed, and his console flared to life.
“Klelain, Clorinda commander, reporting to follow orders, sir.”
Phelps looked at the monitor again. A line of new ships had emerged from hyperspace, not as big as the Hiactol fleet, but still significant. He leaned forwards, paused, assessed the new configuration, and smiled. “Klelain. Engage.” And as he watched, Lyle’s defence fell back, became ragged, and, finally, fled, harried all the way by fighters and corvettes.
Abendau lay below, defenceless in the air. The ground battle was all that was left. Smiling, he leaned forwards. “Ryan. We’re coming in.”
***
Sonly hurried out of the apartment, and knocked on Kerra’s door, but there was no answer. She must be with her tutor. There was no time to cross to the other side of the compound. Instead, she jogged to the port annex, her security guards falling into step beside her. She got to the port and saw Kahn waiting at the launch pad. She smiled, glad it was him; he was the pilot who knew her best and she didn’t want any distractions or interruptions on the flight.
“Is the ship ready?” she asked.
“When you are. I spoke to the port in Abendau – there’s security waiting when we get in.” His firearm was holstered against his hip.
“Thanks, Khan.” She climbed aboard her personal transport, which was fitted out so she could work. She connected her data pad to the secure interplanetary system and started to input the request for an emergency Senate meeting.
A small movement at the back of the transport, where her dressing cubicle was, took her eye. She watched but there was nothing more. Lord, she was jumpy. Her hand had fallen onto her pistol.
“Is anybody there?” she called.
Two soldiers appeared, blasters aimed at her, their uniforms dis
playing the stylised P of the Empress’ army. Cold fear crept up her spine. Her eyes flicked between them. Lichio: she had to warn him. She let go of the pistol and flicked on her comms unit.
“Very observant, President,” the closest said. He took the comms unit from her before reaching, almost dismissively, for her firearm. She shrank back, her eyes casting around the transport, trying to think of anything she could do. She saw the back of Kahn’s head. He had a weapon. Hope flared.
“Take the ship in.” The other soldier joined the pilot. “Ryan confirms the city is secured.”
Kahn gave a sharp nod. “Very good, sir.”
***
Lichio drummed his hands on the desk, running through priorities. When the postmortem came, there was no doubt where the blame would fall, and rightly so. This was his team’s mess – and by default, his – and probably enough of a mess it would cost his commission. He activated the inset comms unit. “Colonel Ryan, this is General le Payne.”
“General.” The voice was calm, measured.
“The port is secure?”
“As you ordered.”
“Thank you.” Talking to Ryan was like drawing water from the desert. “Raise the defence of Abendau to level one.”
“Level one, sir.” The voice registered a quirk, of interest, perhaps.
“That’s correct. I’m leaving the compound for Abendau. ETA 14:00. Once I reach you, I will take full operational control.”
“Yes, sir. The commander in chief, will he be with you?”
He wished he knew. “The commander in chief is off planet, Colonel; I have his full authority.” He’d deal with that lie if – when – Kare turned up.
“Yes, sir. Level one alert, ETA 14:00, you have full command.”
“Thank you.” Lichio stood. There was nothing more he could do from here. He grabbed his jacket and hurried towards the port, Sam joining him as he left the office. Guilt lanced him, and he had to ask, to know how much of this was his fault. “Could we have done more for Kare?”
