Impact Velocity (The Physics of Falling)

by Leah Petersen

  “The Resistance?”

  Jonathan nodded. “They’ve been in place for some time, as an official A49372 organization for the promotion of imperially sanctioned causes. UpClass, is what they’re called.”

  I frowned. “Why would they need a secret organization for that? We were doing that openly.”

  He shook his head. “UpClass worked within the system your husband was creating. But, knowing this to be a radical and often unpopular agenda, behind the public face of UpClass they created a contingency organization. One that could quickly and easily organize a resistance for such situations as this.”

  “As this?”

  “In case the empire’s interest in improving the situation of the lower classes ever changed. They already have a solid base to work from. As of yesterday they’ve gone underground—though that’s known only to a very few. For now.”

  “How did they know there needed to be any sort of ‘resistance’ at all? Do people really know what happened already?” I scowled. “I don’t even know what’s going on yet.”

  He gave me a funny half-smile. “They have at least one highly placed informant, probably someone in their organization is within the imperial power structure as well. Or Laudley’s. I don’t know yet.”

  I mulled over that in silence. “So they’re like Blaine as The Patriot?”

  “Well, like The Patriot, though we know that wasn’t Blaine, don’t we?”

  “We do?”

  Jonathan gave me a look that only mostly disguised his disappointment. “I told you that before. And even if you didn’t believe me then—which wouldn’t have been surprising—I would think that would be obvious even to you now.”

  “But everything stopped happening as soon as Blaine was sent—executed. As soon as he was executed. This is something new.”

  His mouth quirked. “In case you were under the impression that you were going to hide from me the fact that Blaine was never executed, let’s set that straight now. I know where he is. Or, at least, where he was.”

  My breath stopped in my throat. “Was?”

  Jonathan frowned. “There are indications that Blaine is no longer on Dead End.”

  My heart pounded loud in my throat. “Are you sure?”

  “He was taken from Dead End shortly after the emperor was killed. I have that from both my authorized sources and from the unauthorized ones.”

  “You know, what you’re doing is probably completely illegal. And unbelievably inappropriate for someone who was convicted of treason.”

  He gave me a funny smile. “It always has been.”

  It was so oddly familiar, Jonathan patiently guiding me through something I hadn’t wanted to understand but that he wouldn’t let me avoid. It was like when I was young and suddenly with the emperor and had no idea what to do. He’d held my hand through it. Back before I knew he was betraying me. Back when I had Pete.

  A heavy dread fell over me, choking me with possibilities, fear for the children, the overwhelming weight of loss. Pete was dead. I groaned, my face falling into my hands.

  “Anyway,” he continued, “it’s funny that you would criticize anyone for treason.”

  My face grew hot. “Mine was different.”

  “How, exactly?”

  “Mine wasn’t deliberate.”

  “No?”

  “No! How dare you even suggest that!” ”

  He shrugged. “I’ve wanted to ask, I just couldn’t before. I always believed you precipitated that crisis in hopes of convincing the emperor to give the unclass more than he was ready to, but that it got out of hand.”

  “What? No. I wouldn’t do that!”

  “No?”

  “What’s wrong with you? Why are you even saying this? You can’t believe that?”

  “I probably don’t.”

  I gaped at him. “Then why are we fighting?”

  “Because anger distracts you, and when you’re yelling at me you stop thinking about other things.”

  Other things hung in the air for a moment as I tracked backward and realized he’d started making the ridiculous accusations as soon as I started thinking about Pete. My breath caught. “Have you always done that?”

  “Yes.” His calm, which used to both amaze and infuriate me, felt so odd in such a moment. And so achingly familiar and safe.

  “You did better by me than you think,” I said.

  “How do you know what I think?”

  “I don’t. I mean, I didn’t realize how much you did for me. It might have helped to know that. When I found out what you did for Blaine...” The flash of betrayal heated my face, but faded quickly. “Well, I thought all of it had been lies, that I’d misunderstood everything.”

  “I know,” he answered quietly. “There wasn’t much I could do to make you believe I’d had good intentions. Or good among the bad, I suppose.”

  “I wouldn’t have asked you to choose me over your daughter.” I gasped in sudden horror, catapulting out of the chair. “Your daughter! Revan! They’ll go after my daughter. Or yours. Maybe someone knows you’re still helping me and they’re going to try to use them as hostages.” Panic seized my throat. “Of course they’re going to do that with Revan. Of course.” I rounded on him. “We have to do something!”

  That he could still sit there so calmly in the face of that was definitely on the infuriating side.

  “They are safe,” he said.

  My knees gave out as I sank into my chair. “They are? All of them?”

  “Yes. My daughter’s mother and Revan’s adopted parents as well. TG has secured them somewhere. I don’t know where yet, but I will.”

  “Are we even safe? We didn’t even leave the planet. How could they not find us here eventually?”

  Jonathan pursed his lips. “Most are going to assume, as you did, that the safehouse wouldn’t be here on Earth. And when your transport left the palace it sent a false signal that could be interpreted as a cloaked ship leaving the planet. No cloaking system is perfect, after all.”

  “But they’re not going to ignore the planet entirely, even if they don’t focus on it. And we’re right here.”

  He tilted his head in acknowledgement. “This island is easy enough to find on the map. There was an imperial research facility here long ago that handled research of the highest sensitivity and sometimes dangerous materials. According to the records, there was an accident here long ago and the facility was shut down and used as a dumping ground for hazardous waste.”

  “It doesn’t look much like a research facility, if you do a flyover.”

  He grinned. “It doesn’t look anything like a research facility from here inside the camouflage field.”

  I sat back. “Oh. Makes sense.” I stared down at my hands, trying to think past the immediate worries that I apparently shouldn’t be worrying about. “So what happens now? What do we do?”

  “We wait.”

  “Wait? While whoever did this consolidates power and destroys evidence?”

  “We have to wait because we don’t know who did this, and watching to see who consolidates power will help us figure it out, or at least give us a place to start.”

  “I know who did this,” I grumbled, but I shook my head at myself. “What’s the official word? What are they saying about what happened and who did it?”

  “Nothing. They’ve said nothing at all other than to acknowledge the emperor is dead. Not one official word on how that came about or even anything about the succession. They can’t help the implication that there is some trouble regarding the princess as well, but no one will comment on it one way or the other.”

  “Who’s controlling the messages? Who is actually in charge now?”

  “The council, supposedly. Lord Naganika is the official spokesman.”

  My stomach twisted. “He’s working with
them.” I choked on the words. “I liked him.” Bitter deja vu washed over me. “I trusted him.”

  Jonathan’s reply was soft. “He was already the official spokesman for the palace. Everyone involved will want that maintained, both those for us and against us. Where he personally stands and how much he does or doesn’t know is impossible to tell from that simple fact.” He paused. “Don’t forget, Lord Sifer chose him as his replacement. There aren’t many people I trust more than Sifer.”

  I blew out a breath, biting back some comment about the irony in him talking about trust. “You’re right.” I frowned.

  “Give me a week,” he said. “Let me gather as much information as I can before you do anything, please. If it were just us, I’d follow you as you bumbled into the middle of it all, screaming defiance and losing your temper as you’re wont to do and getting yourself killed, if that’s what you really want. I owe you that much.” He paused, glancing in the direction of the room where the children played. “But I don’t think that’s what you want to do this time.”

  I deflated. “A week. How can I sit here, waiting, like the whole world hasn’t just fallen apart.” I sighed. “My world, at least.”

  “It might be good for all of you to have some time to grieve. I thought you might also want to plan some sort of ceremony to say goodbye.”

  I closed my eyes against the pain. Pete. They were going to bury him in great pomp and splendor, locking him away in the imperial mausoleum, without me. All of it, without me. Pete hadn’t wanted to be put in that stuffy old edifice, and I’d never wanted him interred forever in the place that had held us captive and controlled us and finally killed him. He wanted what physical remains he left behind to be joined with the Dawes-Killearn Nebula. Our nebula. He’d said he’d do it for me.

  I buried my face in hands that were trembling and breathed out a shaky sigh.

  “Yes, of course. Goodbye.”

  My biggest fears in these days after I was freed from Dead End weren’t about the danger of what we were doing, the potential for disaster, the number of things that rested on the reactions of others that I couldn’t control, the people I was forced to blindly depend on and who controlled me as much as they controlled the empire.

  More than all of those things, I was afraid of myself, of what I had become, that perhaps I was truly broken and couldn’t find my way back.

  iv16

  I stared at Laudley in astonishment. “Your Excellence?”

  He didn’t stop smiling, though the expression took on a funny cast before he waved away my question. “Time enough to discuss the details when you are at the palace.”

  I sat up straighter. “No, I think there’s plenty of time now. You can hardly expect me to let that go with no explanation.”

  He examined me. “Of course you want an explanation, but I am not ready to give it to you just yet.”

  I made some odd, startled noise of disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

  His smile was vicious. “I have a great many things going on at present, and much of it benefits you. Which I think you might thank me for.”

  “I might, when I know what it is you are planning.”

  “I think you will better project the air of innocence and of just being rescued from years of unjust imprisonment if you remain ignorant for now.”

  “You expect me to play emperor, or something like, but you don’t think I can maintain the proper pretense?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I think that you have spent the last five years locked up with the offal of the empire and I am not sure what to expect from you just yet.”

  I sat back slowly. As much as I hated it, he had a valid point. Did I even know what to expect from myself?

  “Do not worry,” he said, making another careless dismissive gesture. “It is one of the reasons I do not plan to return you to the palace just yet.”

  “And the other reasons?”

  He gave me a long considering look, and I bristled at the reminder that he held all the information and was doling it out to me as he wished.

  “For one, we must make it seem as if your whereabouts were only discovered in the chaos following the assassination of the emperor. That you remain entirely unconnected to the tragedy is a vital part of my plan. To be honest,” he said, with a casual shrug, “it would have been more prudent to leave you out there a few more days, but I wasn’t sure what the announcement of the emperor’s death would do to your situation.”

  He smiled maliciously. “So, you see, you’ve caused me trouble already and forced me to make less than optimal decisions. I will need you to be very careful to play your part correctly.”

  I considered punching him. I had some experience with punching now, though I’d learned early at Dead End that I always came out the worse for it, and hadn’t tried it in some time. But what did Laudley know of such crude measures? I wondered how many good punches I’d get in before he even realized what was happening. I turned away, picking up my wine glass again, gulping until I coughed.

  “Also,” Laudley continued, as if he hadn’t noticed, “I must return to the palace and see where things stand. I have made many plans, and this is a crucial juncture. Much will be decided based on what others do now. I must arrange your return carefully, and with present circumstances in mind.”

  I hated how relieved I was that he was taking it all in hand, that nothing was expected of me now. I wouldn’t have admitted it, but I felt completely lost and out of my element, doing this, at which I had once been one of the best, one of the most successful.

  Our return to Earth was brief. The ship was new and impressive, and not Laudley’s. It had been acquired for him by some associate who took care of things at the palace for him. He refused to tell me who that was.

  We landed at an anonymous waystation and parted ways, he in a shuttle to the palace, and me toward the last place I’d expected to see again.

  ***

  I had no idea what I would find at my oldest estate, and tried to prepare myself for anything. The gathering of servants waiting to welcome me was nonetheless a surprise. I disembarked, trying to hide my hesitation and suspicion.

  The meaning of the welcoming committee became clear when the assembled reacted to the sight of me with startled gasps, exclamations of shock, even disgust, and a hard glare from Lady Chou.

  Hers wasn’t the only face I recognized, though she was the only one I knew by name. She had grown up on the estate. Her father, a minor noble too poor to have his own holdings, had served as the steward of the estate since before I had been born. He had been ancient the last time I’d seen him. She must have inherited the position by now.

  I affected a casual pose that was by no means genuine but came easier than I’d feared. “I take it from this lack of joy at my return that you were not expecting me?”

  Servants whispered behind her but Lady Chou’s answer was immediate, each word bitten off. “That would be correct. We were not expecting to have to endure your presence ever again.”

  I stiffened. She was a servant. My servant. “Then who were you expecting to welcome here?”

  “We were only informed to expect a noble guest. And then all communications out of the estate were blocked.” Her posture softened a bit but it was defeat, not forgiveness. “From the obvious need for secrecy and concealment, I had hoped to find Owen, even the Prince Consort and the Crown Princess.”

  The thought of Owen, here, sent a hard shiver of longing through me. “Well, I can’t blame you for being disappointed to find me if you were expecting Owen.”

  “Disappointed isn’t the word that comes to mind.”

  I should have reprimanded her, punished her even. My own steward shouldn’t speak to me like that. But I was so badly out of practice, and who was I now, to them or to anyone? To me? I took a deep breath.

  “How unfortunate for you.” I loo
ked at one of the younger men. “Is my room prepared?”

  “You don’t have a room here,” Lady Chou snapped. I turned very slowly to face her.

  “Why don’t we clarify a few things so we all know where we stand?” My voice was level and cold. “Yesterday, you thought I was dead. Now I am here. You have already figured out that I have friends who continue to assist me, ergo the communications blackout that prevents you from contacting anyone and telling what you know about who is or isn’t here. No matter who officially owns this estate, it is safe to assume that it is in my control now and you would be advised to obey me as your duke.”

  “And yesterday the emperor was alive,” she said. “I suppose you’re ‘in control’ of that situation too?” Her voice wobbled but she stood as stiff and forgiving as a granite cliff. “You killed the emperor.”

  Murmurs of anger and grief passed through the group, and I almost sympathized with them.

  “You can suppose whatever you choose. But you will do your job or leave.”

  Lady Chou scoffed. “Leave? How far would we get, Enryn? All things considered, there’s no way any one of us will get off this estate alive.”

  She had named one of my own, newborn fears. My fists clenched and I stepped very close to her. To her credit, she didn’t back away. “You will not address me that way again. Use my proper title or be silent.”

  “What title would that be? Traitor?”

  I slapped her. The sting in my palm was like a balm after so many years wanting nothing more than to hurt the people who were hurting me and being powerless to do so. The moment stretched as she stood there, my handprint pinking on her cheek.

  She spat in my face and, before I could react, turned on her heel and stormed away.

  ***

  Lady Chou retreated to a small hunting lodge on the outskirts of the estate. I let her go. It wasn’t something I would have done before, but before was a long time ago, and a different life I’d lived. In truth, I felt too uncertain, too disoriented to deal with her, as if properly chastising a high ranking servant was some old skill I’d taken for granted but forgotten how to do, so long without practice.