She was cold. She was filthy. She was hungry. She was lonely.
Bedding down on the tiny bunk was like sleeping on a slab. It seemed that no matter how she tossed and turned, the hateful thing tried to push some part of her skeleton out through her aching flesh. Yet when it came to the malice and evil of inanimate objects, she saved her true hate for the cold and exposed toilet standing in the corner.
Was it better, she wondered, to die an old woman in prison, or a young woman in front of a firing squad? A tough choice—not that anyone was likely to allow her to pick.
“Elsa?”
Erik? She looked up, angry at first. Had he come to gloat? Then she saw the look in his eyes. Despite the obvious fatigue, there was something different about him: the dead-ahead thousand-meter stare of a hawk. But there was also a grim coldness there that made her shudder.
He produced a set of keys and fumbled them in the lock. “Come on, we’re going.”
“Where?”
“Look around you. Does it matter?”
“No, I suppose not.”
He went first, leading her out through the twisting corridors. The guards were nowhere to be seen. They finally emerged in a vast tunnel where a hovercar waited. He pushed her onto the floor of the backseat and threw a blanket over her, then climbed into the driver’s seat.
They drove for perhaps ten minutes, several of those traveling steeply downhill, stopping three times so Erik could confer with guards. Finally the car stopped, and Erik shut off the turbines.
“You can come out now.”
She cautiously drew back the edge of the blanket. It was dark. Erik opened a door, and she heard the gentle roar of surf. The air outside was bitterly cold, and she wrapped the blanket around herself. She looked at him. “What are you doing?”
“We’re taking back this planet, Elsa. Ravensglade is ours. There’s still fighting on Georama, and the capital may take a few days. But the Cappies are on the retreat, and we’re taking it all back.”
“What has that got to do with me?”
“If I let you go back to the Capellans, you know things. You’ll tell them things. To even consider letting you go would be treason. On the other hand, you know things that could damage me here as well, should my uncle learn them. You’re a danger to me, Elsa—a liability no matter what I do.”
She looked at him nervously, feeling her stomach knot. “What do you intend to do about it?” There was a snapping sound, and she suddenly realized that he had a pistol in his hand.
“You said people like us don’t have choices, Elsa. Well I have choices, and I’m giving you one. The first choice is to stay a Cappie spy”—he pointed the pistol between her eyes—“and die.”
“Good Lord, you’re serious aren’t you?”
The look on his face said everything.
“You said I had a choice. What’s my other option?”
“I let you go back, but on my terms. You like excitement, Elsa, danger? I’m offering you the biggest thrill there is. You become a double agent.”
“A double agent?”
“You’ll go back and tell them that, while you couldn’t sway me, I’m vulnerable—that I might be compromised. I want you to learn everything you can from them, and then convince them you need another chance with me—that you are so close to seducing me into betraying the Duke.” He smiled grimly. “Hell, there might be some truth to it. I’m keeping my options open.” The smile quickly faded. “But let me make this clear: if we do this, you work for me. Not the Duke, not the SwordSworn. You will pledge your loyalty to me.”
“I should do this why?”
“Because it’s one way out of the situation you’ve placed yourself in. I’ve told you what the other one is. But I assure you: As long as you remain loyal to me personally, you will be under my protection. Your mother as well. That may not mean much right now, but it will. If I’m going to control my own destiny—and that is exactly what I’m going to do—I need certain resources, I need certain assets. Many of those I can simply plunder from the Duke, but some of the more intangible things I’ll simply have to build myself.”
“And you want me as your first intelligence asset?”
“The first of many.”
She sighed. “They’ll probably kill me, you know.”
“Better them than me.”
She looked at Erik, and thought wistfully of love lost, and opportunities gained. She smiled sadly and shook her head. “What the hell.” She pulled herself up straight. “Commander Erik Sandoval-Groell, by the blood of my ancestors, I pledge my life and loyalty to you, now and forever.”
“Good,” he said. He threw her a key. “It’s for the car. The weather looks good, so you can probably make Georama in about two hours at top speed. You stand a good chance of hooking up with Liao troops before somebody else decides to shoot you. Get yourself off the planet.”
She looked at him for a moment, then climbed into the driver’s seat of the car and started the turbines. The heaters immediately began to blast at her, for which she was grateful. She closed the door, and engaged the lift fans. It took all of her willpower to keep her eyes ahead, to not look back, to not think about what she’d lost.
But she would be back, and there would be other days.
The icy wind plucked at him as Erik pulled his heavy winter coat tight and pulled the hood up over his head. He watched the car slide down the dune, along the beach, then over the surf and out to sea. He could still see it for a minute or so, but then it was lost against the dark water.
He turned and began walking back toward the road. Perhaps a vehicle would pass, or perhaps he would have to walk the two kilometers to the tunnel entrance. He could tell the guard there his car had broken down, that he’d come back for it in the morning. After the confusion of the battle, it would be a long time before the car was missed, if ever.
It was dark, and Erik was alone with his thoughts.
Was this how Aaron had felt, when he’d publicly announced their allegiance to House Davion? He’d knowingly, and with his eyes open, taken a step down a dark road from which there was no turning back.
He was a man of many secrets. He felt giddy, powerful, dangerous. He felt like a man with a live grenade in his hand, and the pin was pulled.
He could still damage Aaron’s alliance with what he knew—still exact some kind of revenge. Yet it wasn’t the deadly responsibility of the secret that bothered him; it was its already fading power. Soon, it would be history, irrelevant except to those who already called the Duke their enemy.
His safety, and his plans for self-determination, depended on having leverage against his uncle. Fortunately, Aaron Sandoval was a man who had no end of dark secrets.
Erik knew now, he had to have them. He had to have them all. Knowledge was power, and if he knew Aaron’s secrets, he would be in a position to damage the Duke, or, alternately, to protect him, depending on which best served Erik’s interests.
Right now, he wasn’t sure which would be the better course. He wasn’t sure he cared.
Erik smiled grimly and quickened his pace, sand crunching under his boots. Dinner awaited, and he had business to discuss with the Duke. Things would be different now.
For the first time, Erik felt firmly in charge of his life, if not his destiny, and soon that would come as well. But Erik’s aspirations did not stop there.
He was no longer content to control his own destiny. He would control Duke Aaron Sandoval’s as well.
About the Author
J. Steven York has written and published novels, short stories, nonfiction books, and software manuals. He’s also written for computer games, radio, video, and film. He’s dabbled in Star Trek, Marvel Comics X-mutants, and several universes of giant combat robots. Someday he should really figure out what he wants to be when he grows up. He lives on the Oregon coast with his wife, fellow writer and occasional collaborator, Christina F. York. They share their living space with two cats, several hundred toy robots, and a reg
iment of GI Joes.
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Fortress of Lies mda-8 Page 27
