by Jo Zebedee
“How do you have privacy?” he asked. If he had to work it out, he needed space. “If the mesh is always there?”
“I’ll teach you that. I’ll stay with you, train you. There are rules: about looking; about respect.” Farran gave a worried glance. “About how to use it – you’re fighting it all the time, trying to make it do things, when you really need to learn to accept it.”
Perhaps that was why it was tiring him; the mesh itself, not the voices within. “That would be goo–” A wave of dizziness hit him. He put his hand out, catching himself on the ship, as the strength left his body. “What’s happening?” His voice was slurred.
“It’s the mesh,” said Farran, his voice panicked. “It’s emptying.”
Kare’s knees started to crumple. Farran entered the mesh, swimming through it. Kare blinked the exhaustion away and focused on the other man. He followed him through the mesh, and found a wildness dragging at the power, pulling it faster than he could hold it. For one brief moment, he sensed something so familiar it drew a gasp from him. His power, that he’d given up. He dived for it, desperation giving him speed. To have it back, to be whole again. Properly whole and contained.
It vanished, too far away to be grasped. The dizziness worsened and then a new sensation came to him. It brought back Omendegon, being forced from his cell, sick, barely able to stand. Forced onto his knees, made to say words he’d never believed. He could have howled at its touch again.
The Empress. She was in the mesh, the power ebbing around her, flowing through someone else, someone….
He closed his eyes against the mind that was both alien and familiar, shaking his head in denial. Farran reached out, supporting him, and Kare opened his eyes, meeting the Roamer’s. “I have a son?”
“Yes. I touched him for a moment. He’s called Baelan.”
Kare blinked at the tribal name. He’d always known there might be children out there – it was one of the reasons his mother had taken him, to access the bloodline – but had never been able to track them or find any records to support their existence. The only thing he had ascertained was he hadn’t been cloned – his mother, according to the courtiers, hated him too much to recreate him. That, at least, was something. But a child within the tribes made sense. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and started to straighten.
“My mother,” he croaked. “She was there.”
Farran nodded. “Yes, she’s with him.” He ran a hand over his mouth. “He’s just freed her powers.”
Kare shook his head, trying to deny it. His mother free, and with her power back? It was the sort of nightmare he woke up to avoid. He dug his nails into the palms of his hands and the pain was real enough to convince him he wasn’t dreaming, that this was as serious as it could be. “I have to get back.”
He should have had her killed when he came to his senses a decade ago. Except Sonly had already made the deal with the families and imprisoned the Empress. Kare had been left politically hamstrung: Hiactol and the Clorindas would never have accepted a capital sentence. Even so, he should have done it. A failure in the tower’s life support systems, tainted food, there had been ways, and he’d never taken them. Never known why, either – if it was that he couldn’t take the final step of killing her, or if he felt, somehow, that there was something between them that he had to understand before he ended it. Or, simply, the sense he’d had since the day she’d invaded his mind, and broken his block – that he wasn’t able to kill her. That she was stronger than him and always would be. As ever, he had no answers. “I have to go. Now.”
Farran led him up the gangway. “Strap in.”
He did, moving on autopilot. His message must not have reached Belaudii in time. Chill sickness washed through him: the Empress back could mean only one thing. Revenge, and not just on him. She hated Sonly as much as him, and as for Kerra… she wasn’t what his mother had planned and created, she was as much a le Payne as a Varnon and had little, if any, Pettina in her. Oh gods.
The ship started up, the engines roaring to life, and Farran banked, taking them out of the cavern and up into the Syllte sky. The sea flashed beneath them. He was in the wrong place; he needed to be over the desert, not here. They started to pass through the storm, the ship buffeted from side to side, gas swirling around it. “How long until we get back?”
“Ten hours, at the very quickest.”
Ten hours. He’d taken the quarry in two when he was a prisoner. Secured the port in one. If his mother had enough support – and he knew she had, the families were a nest of snakes – in ten hours she would be sitting on her gilded throne. And that was if she’d only just got there – he’d been gone half a day, at least. More. He clasped his hands together, rubbing where his missing finger was. He couldn’t think about it, but his mind kept circling, sending a thought, half a prayer, for no one to have been hurt. He squeezed his eyes shut, not sure where he should be sending it. “Let me get there on time.”
His ship-comms unit buzzed and he pounced on it. Be Lichio, to tell me it’s under control. He saw Sam’s name and his heart seemed to sink.
“Where are you?” Sam sounded worried, sending a shard of guilt.
“I tried to get word back to you.” His stomach lurched further; things had been happening too quickly, and for too long, on Belaudii. “I’m off planet.”
“Where?”
Kare hesitated. “It doesn’t matter. I’m on my way back.”
“You need to be quick. The Empress – she’s taken Abendau. And Bendau. I’m in the compound and it’s secure, for now.”
How the hell could she have taken both so quickly? “Where’s Lichio?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been able to contact him, his comms unit is dead.”
“Perrault?” Kare started to drum his finger on the control panel in front of him.
“Again, I don’t know. There are no comms going in and out of Bendau or Abendau, they’ve all been cut.”
“Are Kerra and Sonly with you?” He steeled himself for the answer, telling himself not knowing was always worse. The pause told him everything he needed to know. Farran’s sharp glance showed he’d noticed it, too.
“I’m sorry. Sonly is in the palace; they’ve taken her. Kerra is here with us, though, at the compound, and keeps asking for you.”
The cabin shrank around him, its kaleidoscope of colours becoming unreal. He stopped drumming his fingers, wanting to hit the panel instead. He took a deep breath, restraining himself. Where the hell was Lichio?
“Can I speak with her?”
“She’s sleeping.”
Kare exchanged a glance with the Roamer, who shook his head. It stank of a set-up. He paused, about to push Sam, but stopped. Exposing it may not be to his advantage.
“Thanks, Sam,” he said. “Tell her I’ll be there in a couple of hours.”
The comms unit disconnected. Kare looked at it, wishing he could go back and stop everything. Wishing he could go back ten years and fix what he’d ruined. His fingers started drumming again.
“It’s a trap,” said the Roamer. “It has to be, surely?”
Perhaps. Or it could be true, and retaking Abendau could commence with his taking command of the compound. He took his time, working through what he knew. If Sam had been taken, then his family may have been, too. He could imagine his friend, coerced into the call. Who had they threatened? Nina? Or the kids? He thought of Cai, asking to see his scar, so shy around him it was almost painful. Of dark-haired Dareen, content and sleepy, not old enough to have anything other than potential. And Nina, without whom he’d be dead. Nina, who’d been brave enough to contact Sonly and the rebels, knowing she’d have been killed on the spot if she’d been discovered.
“Yes.” If it was a trap – and, on balance, he felt it was – whoever had set the trap knew he wouldn’t allow the family to be killed. They were depending on him to be the hero and to come in for them. The mesh circled, very faint, a sh
adow of what it had been. They were relying on his coming in powerless, a lamb to be destroyed.
He turned to Farran. If it was a trap, he could spring it a different way. “The mesh. When will it come back?”
“I don’t know. It’s never been emptied before. It shouldn’t be possible.”
“Best guess.” He pressed his hand to his forehead and concentrated. In there, distant but still there, were the Roamer voices. The mesh wasn’t broken, just empty and small.
“Hours. Provided your son doesn’t perform another of his miracles.”
“Can I stop him?”
“You can, if you make him outcast.”
Kare looked ahead, at the black depth of space. Outcast, as he’d been, and his father and sister. “If I do, what happens to him?”
“He’ll be an outsider. As you were.”
“He’s a child,” said Kare. As Ealyn had been. As he had. What happened now would cast the same long shadows he had faced. “He’s doing what he’s told.”
“He might make the difference to whether or not you get your wife back.”
Kare paused, wondering how much this man knew about him. “You know she’s not really my wife, not in the usual sense, that it’s just a pretence?”
The Roamer laughed. “Is it?”
The question hung in the air, forcing him to answer. “No, it’s more complicated.” His voice was a whisper. “My mother will want revenge on Sonly just as much as me. The thought of them hurting her, it’s….”
“I understand.”
“Is there any other way of keeping the boy out of the mesh?”
Farran shook his head.
“Roamers never give up their own,” Kare said. “If I’m one of you – what does it say if I let him go?”
“You said Sonly wasn’t your wife, and that was a lie. Is the boy yours?”
Kare stood, needing to move, and started to pace the tiny cabin. Farran watched him, waiting for an answer.
“I don’t know,” said Kare. “I assume, biologically, he is.”
“Yes, I can confirm that. He couldn’t access the mesh otherwise. But, is he yours? Like Kerra is?”
Kare stopped pacing, leaned over the back of his chair, hands looped together, and looked at the stars ahead. This was where he’d come from, an old freighter for a home, cast out to take his chances. “If I don’t do it and he drains the power….”
Farran flew steadily on. After a moment, he said, “I have a daughter.” The Roamer’s eyes had darkened and hardened.
“She doesn’t fly with you?” Kare asked. The Roamer fleets were usually based around families, he remembered. His father, before the Roamers had stopped painting their ships, used to know one or two of the identifying decals.
“No, she was taken by the Empress when she was five. She joined the Empress’ army when she was twenty. It took fifteen years to brainwash her to the point where she didn’t want to be a Roamer anymore.”
“I’m sorry.”
Farran nodded acknowledgement. “Through those years, I stayed in the mesh, close to her, communicating with her when I could. When she joined the army, I had to cast her out. It was the hardest thing I ever did.” The Roamer swallowed hard. “But it was the only thing to do – she couldn’t be joined to us and stand against us.”
Kare stared ahead. Farran was right; he couldn’t risk Sonly and Kerra – Lichio and Sam, too, all his people – on a whim. Still, it seemed wrong to say the words, to condemn his son without knowing him. He took a moment, still looking ahead.
He’d deal with the fallout later, when it was possible. “Farran,” he said, and he could hear that his voice was tight and strained. “Cast him out, however you do it. I give my approval.” He paused, swallowing. “I intend to get Sonly back, Farran, and all my people on Belaudii.”
“Of course you do. And your empire?”
It clicked into place: what was important, what wasn’t. He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t seen it before.
“To hell with my empire.” Not tomorrow, or the next day, but now. “I want my family; my mother can do what she wants with the rest. Tell me this – I’m your king, yes?”
Farran nodded.
“Does that mean the Roamers have to obey me?”
“Of course.”
“Tell every Roamer Controller within two days of Belaudii they’re to fly to the compound. And then, teach me how to access the mesh and keep from draining it. Tell me what I need to know.”
“Karlyn, it takes time to master.”
Kare sat in his seat. “I’m a quick learner. Start talking.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Lichio crouched between the front and back row of the ground-transporter’s seats as it bumped over the Abendauii desert, its treads following the undulating surface of the sand. He hunched in a shallow trough in the floor and lifted the bottle of water beside him. It was warm, like the transport, but he gulped it anyway.
“It’s hot enough to cook myself a breakfast down here,” he said, shaking his sweat-dampened hair. “What time is it?”
“Just gone eight,” Simone, sitting on the back seat, said. “Sorry, I thought we’d have made it by now.”
“Don’t be.” He heard a noise overhead and glanced up. “More ships.”
She strained her eyes. “They’re not ours. Commander Lyle made it out of Abendau, sir, before it closed down. Presumably he’s running the air defence.”
Presumably. Someone certainly was – the fighting in the upper atmosphere indicated someone with deep space experience was commanding. That, and the fact Bendau was still standing and not flattened under an orbital attack. But there had been nothing from the city and, damn it, he needed to know. “Collis?”
“Still no response. I think it’s safe to assume the compound’s been taken.” She pushed down on his shoulder. “Another checkpoint. Get down.”
Lichio lay flat as a cover was placed over him, making the compartment look like part of the interior. The transport stopped, its doors banging. He could hear muffled voices, but couldn’t make out the words. The cargo bay at the back was opened, presumably to confirm the transport’s cargo matched its documents. He lay still, but the compartment became hotter and he started to feel light-headed. It wasn’t just the heat: it was claustrophobic in the box, and he’d become tenser each time he’d been closed into it. This should be the last time. He tried to keep his focus on the tiny lines of light where the cover joined the transport floor, but had to squeeze his eyes shut against salty sweat from his brow.
Footsteps rattled across the cover and he held his breath, willing them not to look down. The searchers stood for a long moment, their weight pushing the cover down a little more, sealing the tiny slits of light, leaving him in complete darkness. He waited, fighting the urge to shout out for someone to get him out of here, not able to shake the thought it was like being in his grave.
They moved away and the slits of light came back. Lichio sucked in a deep breath of hot air, heavy with the smell of oil, and his stomach turned over. With relief, he felt the vibrations of the engine, and the cover was removed. He sat up, but had to grab the back of the seat in front and let a wave of dizziness pass. Simone handed him more water, this time blessedly cool.
“How far?” he asked, rubbing his sleeve across his brow. He tried to unscrew the lid of the bottle but his hands were slippery. He wiped them on his shirt, noticing how filthy it was, and tried the cap again. He took a long drink and the cold water hit his stomach like a stone, making him fight the urge to double over.
“We’re just coming into the city now. Are you okay?”
He nodded, but kept his eyes averted. He was far from okay. He added up the forces he had available in Bendau. Even if Perrault had held the city, and had been joined by the more experienced Lyle, it came to the same result: not enough. Whatever resources they had would struggle to withstand an attack from Abendau, the compound, and space. It was a
case of when, not if, the city would fall. He’d needed the compound’s weaponry and superior port.
“Is there a chance the Abendauii army will back us, if they know I’m in command?” he said, thinking aloud.
Simone bit her lip. “Perhaps. Or, they might follow Ryan and Phelps. If the commander in chief were here….”
If. Lichio’s mouth tightened into a thin line. Damn Kare. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but at some point during the hellish trip over the desert, his feelings had moved from grief to anger. He needed Kare: he was the figurehead, not Lichio, and the selfish bastard had left him to it. He suspected he wasn’t being entirely fair, but it seemed as good a place to lay the blame as any other. At least anger would give him something to get through the next few hours with. It had to be more productive than guilt.
“Well, he’s not. Could the agents in Abendau get to Sonly?” he asked.
“You know there aren’t enough.”
“I don’t have enough of anything,” he said. “What I could do with, if you could conjure it up, is a bigger fleet and someone in Abendau palace capable of getting my sister out.”
Simone smiled at that. “Can’t help, sir.”
No one could. Which left him having to think along more conventional lines: negotiation; hostage exchange. Despite the heat, a chill ran through him at the realisation of who the only viable exchange might be. He looked at his hand and saw it was shaking, and clenched his fist to hide it. Fight first. At least try. If it didn’t work, then he’d face the alternative. Somehow.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Belaudii never changed: a great redness in the sky, a scar against space. As Farran finished their descent, aiming for the compound, Kare sat with his eyes closed, trying to get used to the slowly-building mesh and how to take power from it. Holding it in a circle went against everything he’d ever known about psyching. He was used to pure, clean lines of power, and his mind was determined to do what it was used to. His hands were sweaty with effort. The mesh was still fighting him, not coming into a shape that would replenish its power from the linked Roamers.
