Into the Rift

by Cynthia Garner

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  Also by Cynthia Garner

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  Chapter One

  Sirina lan Maro set a small plate in front of her cousin and smiled to see him start in on the slice of chawberry pie. He ate with the same gusto as when he was a youngster. She took a seat in the dining alcove and cut into her own piece of pie.

  Her living quad consisted of sleeping quarters, a central living area that could double as a guest room, a small scullery, and a dining alcove. She’d been allotted this quad once her conscription with the Talisian global security forces had been fulfilled. Ten years she’d been out, ten years of making a living by doing some of the same kind of work she’d done in the service. Only now she did it as a private citizen, providing security consultation to local enforcement officers.

  Sirina looked at her cousin. His normally verdant skin seemed pale, a sure sign he was agitated about something. His eyes kept straying to the row of still images she had on her small workstation in the main living area.

  She leaned over and put her hand on his, halting the motion of him scraping the last swirls of pie filling onto his utensil. “Natchook, what is it? What’s wrong?”

  He pushed away from the table and walked to where the pictures were. He gazed at an image of their squad in their tan desert uniforms. The four members of the elite team stood straight, arms around each other, wide smiles curving their mouths. With his index finger he traced the features of the other woman in the group of four, and sadness pierced Sirina like the bite of a giant pincer. Yura lan Xarchai, her best friend and Natchook’s wife.

  She and Yura had grown up together here on Avasa, a colony of the much larger planet Talis. As such, they had been second-class citizens, conscripted into service in defense of their ruling planet. Natchook, who was part Talisian, had already served for five years by the time she and Yura joined.

  Shortly after their arrival in the service, Yura and Natchook had fallen in love. They’d been allowed to marry and serve in the same unit. Three years later, when Sirina’s brother, Kester, was drafted, he, too, became part of their squad.

  Kester at first balked at the idea of serving as a combatant. The last place a pacifist like her brother wanted to be was in the armed services. But the longer he served, the more he came to appreciate the discipline he learned. It helped him control his compulsive behaviors. That there had been peace between the planets also helped, so his anxiety-induced disorder was easier to handle. His constant access to a behavior modification expert hadn’t hurt, either.

  After Sirina and Yura had satisfied their requisite eight years, they’d been released from service. Natchook had taken his retirement soon after. Kester, enjoying the regimentation the security force provided, had decided to make a career of it.

  They should have all lived out their lives happy and healthy. Only it hadn’t gone that way for Yura. Three years ago, after a lingering illness, she had died. Sirina still missed her, though time had softened the pain, and she knew Natchook missed her, too.

  “Kai Vardan is responsible for Yura’s death, you know.” Natchook picked up the still image and stared down at it. Sirina knew he had eyes only for his deceased wife. “Someone should make him pay. Someone…” He trailed off, his jaw flexing as he tried to control his emotions. “Someone needs to kill the bastard.”

  “Are you crazy? No, someone does not need to assassinate Kai Vardan.” Sirina stared in shocked horror at her cousin. She knew he blamed the Talisian leader for what happened to Yura, but this… this was insane. “What would make you say that? Have you heard something?”

  His gaze darted to her before he again looked down at the image. “I haven’t heard anything. I just think it would do everybody a big favor if someone did.”

  Even talking about the assassination of a world leader was treasonous. “Look, I realize you’re upset, but this isn’t the way to resolve your grief. Visit with the priests at—”

  “Don’t you think I’ve gone through all the grief rituals and sought counseling? I have. Several times.” Natchook surged to his feet. “Vardan killed Yura. Someone needs to make him pay.”

  “He did not kill her. She died because of a regulation that’s been in place for centuries.” Sirina put one hand on his shoulder. “Yura was Avasan. Talisians get service at hospitals before Avasans, you know that.”

  “I’m a citizen of Talis. She was my wife, and she was sick. She should have gotten tests. A diagnosis. Treatment!” He shrugged off her hand. “Our Most Benevolent Leader,” he said with a sneer, “could have taken action when this regulation went to referendum fifteen years ago during his tenure as a member of parliament. Once he became world leader, he could have pushed to change the legislation. He should have…” He turned away, one hand going to his face.

  She knew he fought back tears. He’d loved Yura with a fierceness Sirina had never known. And he still did, all these years later.

  Natchook turned again to face her. His eyes were wet, his face hard. “It’s not just the health-care edicts. There are many laws that disadvantage Avasans. Laws that are equally unjust. They’ve been unjust for centuries. Yet no one seems bothered by it. They just accept it. You just accept it.” His lips curled with disdain. “She was your best friend, Sirina. Surely that meant something to you once.”

  “Of course it meant… means something.” She scowled. “And don’t you try to make me out to be the villain in this. I’m Avasan. I have no vote. No voice. What could I have done to change anything?”

  “Maybe you couldn’t have done something then. But now…”

  “No.” She slashed one hand through the air. “Killing the Talisian leader isn’t going to solve anything. It will just make things worse.”

  “Wait, just listen to me.” His voice lowered and took on a pleading tone, but she heard the dark intensity that rode beneath the surface. He went back to the dining alcove and sat down, waiting until she retook her seat before going on. “This one thought has been rolling around in my mind for years now: Righteous men live in peace and think they’re free; only the enlightened can know true peace through anarchy and chaos.” His eyes glittered with fanatic fervor. He tapped one finger on the table. “That’s the key, Sirina. Overthrow the government by ushering in anarchy and chaos.”

  “Natchook, no!” She grabbed his hand. Ice crawled from her belly up her throat. This idea of his was deranged, and he scared her with his sincerity. “You listen to me. Kai Vardan didn’t pass the laws that keep Avasa under Talis’s rule. He wasn’t the one who kept moving Yura’s name to the bottom of the list for medical treatment—”

  “She never got the chance for treatment!” He jerked his hand away and sat back in his chair. “Because of these archaic, discriminatory edicts, a Talisian with a hangnail gets to see a physician before any Avasan, no matter how sick they are.”

  “It’s not that bad.”

  “Right. The next time you get sick and can’t get in to see a doctor and just keep getting sicker and sicker, you tell me you still think that way.” He leaned forward, his expression set. “If there is no rule of law, everyone’s on the same footing. Chaos makes us all equal.” He spread his hands. “Avasans w
ill finally be the same as Talisians, free to do what they want, be what they want. Tell me that’s not tempting.”

  Oh, it was tempting all right. Not that she would admit it to him. But she’d lived her entire life being told what to do, when to do it, how to do it. She had enjoyed her time in the service, but she hadn’t had a choice about serving. Now that she was her own person again, she’d managed to eke out a living as a consultant for the local security forces. But she’d often wondered what her life would have been like if she’d been born on Talis, if she’d been able to actively make choices instead of having them foisted on her.

  No matter her upbringing, what Natchook thought needed to happen was ill-advised. Insane. “What you propose isn’t the way to bring about change. There has to be another tactic, something we haven’t thought of yet.”

  “Since my wife’s death all I’ve done is think, trying to find other ways. But I keep coming to the same conclusion. They don’t care about what happened to her. She isn’t even a footnote on any legislator’s agenda.” He stood and began to pace the small room. His voice low, he said, “I made sure to become friends with Jarrad T’heone, the captain of Vardan’s personal security cadre. Through him I’ve met Vardan. He’s not as good a man as you think he is. He’s Talisian, with Talisian interests first. Always.”

  While a member of their squad, Natchook had a knack for infiltrating enemy ranks. He still exuded charm and confidence, qualities of a natural-born leader. But Sirina couldn’t let him get involved in something like this. “And if someone does assassinate Vardan? Then what?” She stood and grabbed his arm. “If you get mixed up in this, they will execute you. You won’t live to see what, if any, changes are made.”

  He gave a bark of laughter. “They can’t execute me if they can’t catch me.” His grin and quick wink were sly with self-confidence. “Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

  “Right.” She stared into his eyes. “And are you sure your hypothetical escape plan is good enough to evade every security force in the system?” Trying to get through to him, she tightened her fingers. “Natchook, the assassination of a world leader is a huge thing. They’ll put a price on your head. Anyone who is remotely involved will be hunted down like rabid beasts. You won’t find a hole to hide in on any planet.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve thought about that, too. If someone wanted a handy escape route, all they’d have to do is lay some credits on a couple of technicians at Rift Central,” he said, giving the detention center the nickname most Avasans used.

  It was the place where society’s undesirables—political dissidents, religious heretics, and criminals—were taken after trial and sentencing. Once there, their souls were stripped from their bodies, and the incorporeal energies that made up the essence of what was left were placed in specially designed holding tanks.

  A rift between their dimension and another occurred every seventy-three rotations of Talis around their sun star. Because the rift opened from the other dimension, all the authorities could do was wait for it. But when it happened, the holding cells were opened, and the gravitational forces of the rift sucked the entities into it. No one knew what happened on the other side after that point.

  Not very many people cared to know, either. This solution had been practiced for millennia, and most system inhabitants were just glad to be rid of the troublemakers.

  Her cousin looked confident in his plan. “The timing is perfect. The rift is due in just over a week. Once someone is placed in a holding cell and the rift opens, they’ll make their way through. The authorities could never touch them.”

  She was through talking about all this hypothetical nonsense. “You think bribing a technician or two at the detention center will get your soul removed from your body so it can be sent through the rift when it opens?” Sirina couldn’t believe she was having this conversation with her cousin. He’d always been so levelheaded. So strong-minded. Yura’s death had affected him much more deeply than she’d thought. She had to convince him not to go through with this. “Let’s say you go through the rift. What then? Nobody knows what happens once you’re in the other dimension. You could simply cease to exist.”

  “So I die either way.” He shrugged. “I’ll be with Yura again.” His voice dropped to a soft pitch as if his last words were murmured in prayer.

  She gave his arm a little shake. “I can’t believe you. There’s no evidence at all that anyone survives being sucked into the other dimension. You’re going to die. How does your death honor Yura’s memory? The only thing you’ll accomplish is to remove a moderate leader from power. The vice chancellor is much more hard-line in his beliefs about Avasa. You could make things worse for us.”

  He stared down at her. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

  “Right.” Sirina let go of him and moved away. “Please let this go. Don’t get involved. This won’t fix anything.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” Her cousin didn’t seem as sure of himself as he had moments ago.

  She pressed her advantage. “You know I am. And this isn’t something Yura would have wanted. You know that, too.”

  Some of the hardness left his expression, to be replaced with the softness of sorrow. “I do know that.” He heaved a sigh and sat back down. “I guess you’re right. Maybe…” His head bowed. “Yura’s love made me whole. With her gone, I lost what was best about me.” He looked up at Sirina, his eyes dark with grief. “I miss her so much.”

  She went down on her haunches beside him and placed one hand on his knee. “I miss her, too.” She held his gaze. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

  He dipped his head. “I promise.”

  She wasn’t sure he was serious. “I mean it. I don’t want to lose you, too.”

  He looked at her again. “I won’t do anything stupid. You have my word.”

  She searched his eyes. Satisfied she’d dissuaded him from his vengeful, ill-advised plan, she got to her feet. “Great. That’s great. Thank you.”

  He stood as well. “I need to get going.”

  “Listen, why don’t you come over for dinner tomorrow night? I’ll fix a salad and broiled marbox,” she promised, tempting him with his favorite meal.

  He gave a groan. “Oh, gods. You know I can’t resist.”

  She grinned. “Yes, I know. And I’ll top it off with more chawberry pie.”

  “It’s a deal.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “See you tomorrow.”

  Chapter Two

  A week later, Sirina’s fears were realized. She was eating breakfast at her home workstation, looking over security plans for an upcoming political rally, when she got a vid call from her brother. “Kester!” she greeted. He looked so handsome in his uniform.

  “Have you seen the news today?” He sounded agitated, and she realized he held his mouth in a firm, grim line. His eyes were dark with worry.

  “No, why? What’s going on?”

  “It’s all over the news feed,” he muttered. “Turn it on.”

  She pressed a button and the screen on the wall above her desk lit up. A reporter said, “Again, let me repeat: Kai Vardan, Supreme Leader of the Talisian Republic, was murdered six hours ago.” Tears streamed down the young reporter’s face, testament to how well liked Vardan truly had been. “All forms of communication were blacked out by the government while the initial investigation got under way, but we’re now permitted to bring this breaking story to you. I must warn you, the clip we’re about to show is graphic. Sensitive viewers may want to turn away.”

  Sirina didn’t consider herself to be all that sensitive, but even if she were she didn’t think she would have been able to look away from the vid clip. It showed Vardan walking up to a podium, a smile on his broad face. His personal security officers, dressed in their dark blue uniforms, flanked him, two on either side, alert and willing to step into danger at a moment’s notice. Several more were behind him, including his chief of security, Jarrad T’heone, whom Sirina had m
et once at an official function for which she’d coordinated security. He had the tall, lanky build that all Talisians had, and a pair of shaded spectacles protected his light-sensitive pink eyes. A few more officers stood in front of the large crowd gathered to hear the Supreme Leader speak. Just as Vardan bent toward the microphone, a man raced onto the stage, arm outstretched. There was a flash of light, Vardan went down, and the man turned and ran back the way he had come.

  The assassin was masked, but she had a feeling she knew who it was. There was something familiar in the way he’d held himself, in the manner in which he’d run off the stage. Heaven help them all, Natchook had decided to be the “somebody” to take out the Talisian leader. She hadn’t dissuaded him after all.

  As pandemonium erupted, the picture faded back to the reporter. Sirina muted the vid and dropped into her chair. Shock numbed her. She stared at her brother and whispered, “Sweet gods above.”

  “I know.” Kester crossed his arms. “Do you think this has anything to do with…?” He stopped, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on one forearm. “He talked about something being done…” He trailed off again.

  Her brother could only be talking about Natchook. “He told you?” Sirina sat forward.

  Kester nodded. “He asked me to help him. I told him no.”

  When he didn’t proceed, she prompted with a “But?”

  His mouth went from firm to pouty, his body drew up straight and stiff. “I should have helped him.”

  “And get executed, too?” She shook her head. “It’s good that you told him no.” With the enormity of Natchook’s act, belatedly she realized that communications were most likely being monitored. “I need to sign off now,” she said, sending him a warning look. “Watch out for yourself.”

  “You, too.” Kester’s frown was sulky, as if he’d expected her to agree that they should have been Natchook’s cohorts. He had always admired their older cousin, looking to him as a role model. But Sirina had too much to lose to jump onto this particular crazy ship. She’d tried to talk Natchook out of getting involved. As far as she was concerned, she’d done her part. After all, he hadn’t come out and said he had a plan in place to kill Vardan.