by Jo Zebedee
She let her legs slide down, and leaned against the wall. Kerra was in the compound, and it would hold against any attack. She ground her teeth; she’d said that about Abendau, too. And that the Senate would demand her release. They’d abandoned her, presumably, or she’d have heard something from them. But still she held to the sure knowledge that they couldn’t harm her, or Kerra, physically. Torture had always been the Empress’ dirty secret, hidden in the depths of Abendau. There were too many people who knew Sonly, who supported her, to have any chance of keeping anything like that against her secret. Not just people in the Senate, but those in the city, who’d voted her in on a landslide vote that had left her untouchable in the chambers, and mobbed wherever she went in the city. Her shaking came under control. No matter what was going to happen in the palace, no matter what was planned, they couldn’t lay a hand on her. They could threaten and frighten her – and they’d surely done that – but they wouldn’t break her.
The walls around her darkened, changing from white to an old, dark stone, blood-red as the desert. The temperature in the cell dropped, and she shivered, this time from the cold. A smell of dankness and filth surrounded her, a dark stench of despair.
Something ran from the wall opposite, and she tensed until she realised it was just a rat. It ran across the floor and through the bed post – a ghost-rat, not real. She could see nothing of the plain cell she’d been brought into, so complete was the reality projected.
It took another moment for her to place it as a cell in Omendegon. The bare walls, the sound of dripping water, the smell itself were all remembered from the one time she’d forced herself to go into the torture cells. She’d walked from room to room, taking in the rack, the shock room, the water buckets. She’d touched manacles, trying to sense if they’d held anyone she loved, had looked at the long line of cells and tried to imagine walking out of there the same person….
A soft sound took her attention, little more than a whisper. The bare wall opposite was gone, a dark cell projected where it had been. Something pale lay on the floor, a blanket or a bundle of clothes. She got off the bed, legs shaking, and walked over, holding her hands out to warn her when she reached the wall. It was a person huddled on the floor, she realised. They were hooded and chained, and shivering in the freezing cell. Their skin was bare to the freezing air. She let out a gasp as she realised what – who – it must be, and her breath left a white wisp in the air.
The cell door opened and a huge guard came in, walking straight at her, so real she cringed away, knowing she was seeing the person who haunted her husband’s dreams. Behind Beck a smaller figure appeared, one she knew. Sam. The big guard touched the prisoner, making him tense with fear. The hood was pulled off and she saw it was Kare, his eyes terrified, mutely pleading. Sam knelt beside him, running a probe over his shivering body. He nodded to the torturer and left. Beck smiled, and Kare moaned. The soft sound escaping her sounded like an echo of his. She could not watch this and do nothing. She tried to reach him, but her hand was stopped by the wall. She raked her nails down it and they didn’t snag on old rock, but silvered metal.
The guard unchained Kare, and dragged him to the middle of the floor. He didn’t try to walk. How long had they held him when this was taken? His collar was constricting his throat, he was thin – horribly thin – and caked in filth or blood. He didn’t protest or fight in any way, and she couldn’t tell if he was even strong enough to walk. The guard lifted his wrists up, still encased in manacles, and attached them to a chain. She found her fists clenching, her muscles bunching and cramping, as if she could take this from him and onto herself.
Kare’s head hung down as the chains cranked up, leaving him hanging above the ground. The guard unfurled his whip, touching Kare with it, and her husband whimpered.
She backed away and bumped off the end of the bed. She wanted to close her eyes and remove herself, but couldn’t. It would be a betrayal of what he’d endured. It was a ploy, she told herself, the internal voice clawed with desperation, a means to coerce her. And it wasn’t something she could stop, but a reality from a past long over.
There was a crack and a grunt of pain. She ducked her head. Another crack, and a scream. She pulled herself into a ball, but it was impossible not to listen and imagine the pain and fear. There was a rhythm to the onslaught: the crack of the whip, a scream, a pause as the whip was drawn back, another crack, again and again until the screams stopped and there were only cracks, one and then another. She found herself rocking in tandem. Her breath would barely come through the shudders.
The room went quiet. She looked up, the walls blurred through her tears. Kare was still hanging, slowly turning on his chains. The guard whistled and reached up with a hook, using the collar to pull Kare’s head back. The sudden jerk must have brought him round, because his eyes looked at her – straight at her – filled with pain, his mouth slack with exhaustion.
“Stop,” whispered Sonly, not sure if she meant it for herself, or Kare. Sharp pain in her hands made her look down and she saw she had closed them so tightly her nails had cut the skin. Slowly, she opened them, seeing the blood beading. What if they had found Kare? What if what she was watching was real?
She got off the bed, legs shaking. She knew, of course, that they must be playing with her, that it wasn’t him, but her mind wouldn’t let go of the thought that it might be.
“Stop!” she shouted, not knowing if her words were echoing in one of the stark interrogation rooms, or if they were useless, just for her benefit. “Please! I’ve seen enough.”
Kare faded, and she took a deep breath, past the lump in her throat. Someone was listening; they’d heard her, and would let her out. She could talk to them and come to some sort of deal. Her resignation for a guarantee of safety, even if it meant protective custody for a time. Her eyes closed as she murmured a thank you.
“Someone, help.” The voice was soft, distorted by pain, but familiar.
She opened her eyes and Kare was on the floor, his hand grasping at something – at nothing; whatever he thought was there, wasn’t. The drip-drip of water and his rasping breath filled the room.
She couldn’t look away from his need. She’d thought she’d understood what had happened, but here, in this cold cell – beside him, where she could reach and almost touch his hand – she realised she’d known nothing about what had happened.
His breath drew in. “Make it stop,” he whispered in a thin reed of exhaustion. “Sonly? Dad? Make him stop.”
She got down on her knees and crawled to him. The thin flooring burned her knees as she crawled, but she didn’t care. She had to reach him. Her hands touched the cold smooth wall, still inches from his.
“I can’t,” she whispered. She leaned her head against the cold wall, pressing against it, as if it might give way. “Kare, I can’t.”
It went on through the night, a loop of horror: different days, different tortures. In some he was relatively fit, well-fed, and she realised these were early ones, when his eyes were defiant and sparked with fire. Later, he was pitiful, cravenly trying to please. They showed her what he had tried so hard not to tell her, showed how he stopped trying to defy, but meekly strived to live. She watched him sit, staring, eyes empty of who he was, uncaring what was done to him. That’s what he’d come back from and it was where he’d go if they took him again. And Kerra – would they do it to a child? She shuddered, great waves that went on and on. She knew the Empress too well to believe it couldn’t happen.
The heat in the room started to come up. She’d been shivering for what seemed like hours. The image of Kare faded as the walls went solid. She sat, stunned. She’d never forget what they’d shown her. Never. A sob threatened and she bit it back. They’d won, without even hurting her. She couldn’t give her child up to that. Or Kare, or Lichio. The anger was still there, but it was useless. She couldn’t fight against this.
She watched the door to her cell, waiting for it to open, r
eady to do whatever it took to save them all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Sam sat in the small living area of Kare’s apartment, Dareen in a cradle at his feet. Of all the areas of the compound, this was the most secure. Buried deep in the compound, behind multiple security doors, it felt safer than the visitor quarters. Kerra, curled in one of the armchairs, hugged a teddy to her, a book she’d been reading discarded in favour of it. It had been good for her, too, to stay where she was familiar.
“I know,” she said.
“You know what?”
She rolled her eyes. “I know what you’re feeling. You’re very easy to read.”
No surprise there; her father had read him as an open map. “So, tell me what you know,” he said.
She pouted and shook her head, and it was no wonder; if she really did know what was going through his head, she must be terrified. More than terrified – going around in the same circles he was. It couldn’t be good for her not be able to talk about it.
“Ask me whatever you want,” he said. “I’ll do my best to answer.”
Her eyes widened. “Really?”
“Really.”
She hugged her teddy closer. She was probably getting too old for it, but he understood: he half-wished he had something to cling to. It was eerie in the compound, with the port closed and main gates barricaded. From the bedroom, Nina’s soft voice carried as she told Cai a story. The boy wouldn’t settle, disturbed by the sudden emptiness of the compound and picking up, no doubt, on his and Nina’s worry.
There had been no word from either of the cities and, whilst ships had flown overhead – a dog-fight high above the planet had gone on for hours, earlier – he had no idea of the status. It had given the compound a sense of unreality, of being in a bubble that was building and would have to explode sometime.
“Where are Mum and Dad?” she asked.
Sam took a deep breath. “Your mum’s in the palace. I believe she’s safe, but the palace is in the hands of the Empress.”
“And Dad?”
Sam looked up at the ceiling and then back at her, trying to find the words. From the bedroom, Nina’s voice turned into a roar and Cai asked a muted question; he was on his own here. “We don’t know. You know he wasn’t well?”
“I made his arm better.”
Sam nodded. “We think he went somewhere, maybe to feel better, or… ”
“You think he was too sad to stay?”
Children were amazing at finding the truth. “Yes.” He met her eyes. “I think he was sad and needed some space to think.”
She buried her nose in her teddy and her hair fell over her face. “Uncle Lichio?”
“We don’t know, we haven’t heard from anyone other than Colonel Ryan.”
“I don’t like Ryan. He’s hard to read.”
He’d probably been trained to repel Empaths, given his rank. Sam jerked his head at the door. “You’re tired – you should get your pyjamas on.”
She shook her head. “I’d like to go for a walk. I’ve been inside all day.”
He paused, torn between security and sympathy. It would give him a chance to check in with the security teams before he locked the apartment down for the night. Their updates over the comms system had been erratic, at best, and hard to read from a distance. Bringing Kerra, an Empath, would cut through any evasiveness.
“All right,” he said. “To the end of the residential block only.”
She set her teddy to the side and stood, pushing her blonde hair back from her eyes, a little hybrid of Sonly and Kare. Not so little, anymore – almost a young woman, not a child. What would the Empress do if she found her? She must want her; she was the right age to mould to her wishes, and her power – while it was nowhere near what her dad’s had been – was ready to be developed and honed.
“Just let me tell Nina.” Sam went down the hall to the small room Cai was using. Nina had the lights dimmed, so it was cosy for the child, and the heating turned up.
Nina kissed Cai and stood, letting Sam sit on the edge of his bed.
“Another day or two, and we’ll get to the museum, okay?” Cai nodded, his eyes heavy, but he looked between Nina and Sam, not convinced. Sam leaned over and pulled the covers around him. “’Night.”
“’Night, Daddy.” Sleep was going to win, it seemed.
Sam stood. “I’m going to check in with security. I want to know what’s going on.”
Nina met his eyes, and he knew he must look as worried as she did. “Don’t be long.”
He nodded. They could all feel it, the heaviness of silence closing in, the sure knowledge that something had to change. He gave a helpless shrug, and went back to the living room. “Come on, Kerra.”
They walked down the corridor to the courtyard exit. He had to cover his ears at the sound of a ship approaching. He watched it, ready to draw back, but relaxed when he saw the V-insignia of Kare’s empire.
“Maybe we’ll find out what’s happening!” he shouted. Another ship swooped in behind it, and another, and Sam drew back, poised to run. Kerra’s eyes met his, questioning.
“Why are there so many?” she asked. “Have we won?”
It seemed logical. If Lichio had secured Abendau, he’d have to confront whoever was behind this, which would mean an attack on one of the great families’ planets. The compound’s port was by far the superior military installation: it was where he’d launch it from. He glanced up again. There were a lot of ships.
“It could be a retreat, if Lichio’s lost Abendau,” he said. Or something else. He thought of Dareen, asleep a few minutes’ walk away. Of Cai’s warm room. He needed to get back to the apartment and get it secured. “Come on,” he said, “until we know more.”
She turned to go, but stopped. “Sam…”
“What?”
“There’s something wrong. The troops. They’re not ours.”
He crouched in front of her, and fought the nausea rising in him. She might not be the Empath Kare was, but she shouldn’t be dismissed. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, their minds – they’re loyal to the Empress. One of them, the leader, I can feel him really strongly. It’s like he belongs to her.”
Oh, hell. “Can you tell who it is?” He dreaded what she’d come up with.
She squinted in concentration. “Something like Pelps – it’s in the other soldiers’ minds, he’s very high up.”
Sam’s stomach dropped; he’d known it couldn’t be anyone else. “Phelps?”
She nodded. Her eyes met Sam’s, huge and frightened. He looked around the enclosed courtyard. If the troops were in – and they’d obviously landed – they’d find her, no matter where he hid her. Kare’s apartment was secured, but it wouldn’t hold forever. From the port, the unmistakable sound of a laser pulsed.
Kerra’s head snapped up. “Was that…?”
“Run!” He took her hand, pulling her across the courtyard to the workshops.
“That was a gun!” she shouted.
“I know! Be quiet.” He stood against the courtyard wall, hoping the dark shadows would hide them, and they both waited, breathing heavily. Opposite, the entrance back into their block stood open. He couldn’t take his eyes off it, torn between dashing for safety and working out something for Kerra. Ideas formed and died, of the port with its ships, of the armoury, of handing her to a security team.
There was another roar overhead. The horizon filled with ships coming from Abendau. His arms raised in goosebumps as he tried to count them. The compound’s security could not stand against such numbers.
If the Empress had so many ships under her command, the city must have fallen; they were being brought in from space to the port. It also explained the dog-fight he’d watched earlier – she controlled near-space as well, evidently.
He squeezed Kerra’s arm, his decision made. The only reason to take the compound with a ground attack was to take her. She stood a better chance
getting away. “You know where the armoury is?”
She pointed to the western wall of the courtyard. Sam crouched, pulling her down to his level. “Are there scoots?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know how to ride one?”
“Uh-huh. Uncle Lich taught me.”
“Good girl. Can you programme them?”
She nodded. More ships appeared, deciding him; if she got away now, she could reach Bendau and Perrault’s troops. He’d heard fighting in the distance earlier, as well as the dog-fight. If Abendau had fallen, it must have come from the second city. Perrault could get her off planet to the safety of one of the families who supported Kare. “You need to get to Bendau. Can you do that?”
“I think so.” Her eyes looked huge in the darkness. She gave a firm nod. “I can do it.”
“Good,” he said. “I have to get back to the accommodation. I’ll cover for you. I’ll buy as much time as I can.”
She was trembling. He took her shoulders, steadying her. “You need to be brave now, like your Mum and Dad.”
She nodded, and he pushed her into the courtyard. “Go!” She stayed still and he had to raise his voice. “Now!”
This time she ran, her shoes kicking up a powder of sand that stood out against the soft lighting. He waited until she vanished into the darkness before sprinting back across the courtyard. More gunfight sounded from the port as he passed it, and a yell for him to stop. He darted into the complex, lungs burning.
“Secure it,” he ordered two soldiers approaching at a jog. He ran along the long corridors to the apartment. He pounded on the door until Nina let him in.
“What is it?”
“They’re attacking the compound from Abendau.”
“It’ll withstand it,” she said. She looked behind him. “Where’s Kerra?”
“She’s gone; I made her go.”
“Why? She was safe here!”
