by Cara Bristol
“Can they do all the things male cyborgs can do?”
“And then some,” he said. Females had an advantage in the field because no one expected a woman to be a cyborg. The surprise factor often meant the difference between success and failure, life and death.
“I would like to meet a female.”
“You might get your wish.”
She smiled and settled into her seat.
“Prepare for arrival in ten minutes,” the computer said.
“Why bother to stop the voice recording? We’re going to land, disembark together, so it will be obvious you had visited night side or I wouldn’t have been with you,” Jules said.
“I feel safer if there is no record.”
She eyed him sideways. “You’re very cautious.”
“It’s automatic.” It was now. Training had drilled it into him. Once a cyberoperative, always a cyberoperative. “So, we’ll break the news to your father tonight.”
Jules nodded. “Sooner is better than later. I don’t want him and mother to proceed with planning another bonding ceremony. I’ve misled them too long already.”
“Will morning work for departure?” he asked. “I can contact my people and have a ship sent to pick us up.”
“I need to collect some things.” She twisted her hands in her lap. “I may never get to return.”
March winced. When they left, he would be going home. Jules would be leaving hers. “Of course.” He covered her hands and squeezed. “Take as long as you need. When you’re ready to go, I can have a ship here within a few hours.” Faster if they were run off the planet by torch-bearing, saber-wielding hostile Xenians. But he didn’t see it coming to that. Her people would be angry, but not violent.
The main palace appeared. The boughs and flowers decorating the promenade for the ceremonies had been removed. Instead of servants busy at work, guards marched along the stretch of walkway. The skimmer flew around to the back side, slowed, and eased into the hangar. With a hiss, it lowered to ground level.
He looked at Jules. “Ready?”
“Let’s do it.”
They kissed for luck as the hatch rose.
With Jules following, he ducked out onto the retractable stair.
Six guards armed with photon blasters surrounded the skimmer. “Halt!” shouted one of them. “Keep your hands where we can see them and step down.”
What the fuck was going on? All this for diverting a skimmer for a few days?
“NOW!” the guard screamed and motioned with his weapon.
“What is the meaning of this?” Jules stepped out.
“Move away from the princess!” the guard ordered. “Princess, get back in the skimmer!”
“Stay back, Jules,” March cautioned. If the guard shot at him, she could be hit accidentally. Keeping his arms raised, he descended the four steps to the ground. While five guards aimed their weapons at him, a sixth fastened electro-cuffs around his wrists.
“Explain yourselves immediately!” Jules charged to his side.
“Mr. Fellows is under arrest for the murder of Naimo,” the guard said.
Chapter Seventeen
As two of the guards had herded him out of the shuttle bay, a tearful Jules had rushed to find her father.
March got to see a part of the imperial palace he could have skipped: the dungeon. Well lit with excellent air circulation, it wasn’t the dark and dank horror of history and fable, but no one could mistake what it was. Three high walls connected to a low ceiling. An invisible electrified force field kept him inside, and allowed only limited viewing into the corridor. It did not reassure him that he was the prison’s sole occupant.
With a tentative touch, he tested the force field. A painful jolt sizzled up his arm, leaving it numb. Okay…not getting out that way. Breaking through would fry his circuits for sure.
He sank onto a hard, narrow bunk.
What the hell had happened?
The guards had refused to answer his questions about Naimo’s death or how he was supposed to have caused it. The little nick during the Sha’A’la couldn’t have killed him. The last he’d heard, food poisoning had been suspected. He’d asked about Kur’s condition, but the guards wouldn’t tell him anything about him either.
After deactivating the wrist cuffs, they’d shoved him into the cell. He could have overpowered them and escaped, but he couldn’t have gotten him and Jules off the planet. She’d vowed to get him released, but he doubted how successful her persuasion would be. Dusan had ordered his arrest; he wouldn’t free the man he believed to be a murderer just because his daughter requested it.
Time to call in reinforcements. Dale could send a ship, but it would be best if Moonbeam didn’t get involved. If nothing else, perhaps he could salvage the spaceship contract from this debacle. He shot a quick message to the shop’s owner that he’d handle his own transportation back, and then opened a frequency to the Cy-Ops director. We have an incident, he said.
What happened? Carter asked.
I’m being detained. On a murder charge.
Murder?
The future consort of the emperor’s daughter died, and they believe I’m involved.
Are you? No.
Why do they think so?
Don’t know. They won’t tell me anything.
If this is how you keep a low profile, I’d hate to see you stir things up. Do you need an extraction team?
All things considered, Carter was taking the news well. No, transport will suffice. Anytime an extraction team charged in with photon blasters blazing, it drew attention to Cy-Ops and its extraordinary capabilities. With every occurrence, the invisibility of the organization dropped, and the risk increased that agents would be recognized and compromised during a future mission. Extractions occurred as a last resort. It hadn’t come to that yet. And if Cy-Ops basically invaded Xenia, Carter could forget about a base. I just wanted to keep you informed. Have the ship signal me when it arrives, and I’ll transmit landing coordinates.
Obviously, the rescue ship couldn’t go through Xenian flight control. The pilot would have to sneak on planet. The remoteness of night side would be the best place to rendezvous, but given the communication difficulties there, he’d have to transmit landing coordinates prior to leaving morning side. Before that occurred, he had to break out of jail, round up Jules, and get to the other side of the mountain. There will be two to transport.
You and…
Princess Julietta of Xenia.
The future empress? The one whose consort you’re supposed to have killed?
It’s a long story.
Did she kill him?
No!
I had to ask.
March had more information he needed to tell Carter, like Jules didn’t just need a lift. The woman who would have been empress was leaving and not coming back, and her departure would cause great political turmoil. Better to get off the planet first. Besides, who knew what would happen politically? He found it hard to believe the Xenians wouldn’t be able to come to terms on a replacement. They had a year.
Conscience wouldn’t allow him to mislead the director. There may be some fallout.
There usually is.
* * * *
Her father sat behind his console; her mother perched on a settee, sketching on her PerComm. Both looked up as she barged into the room. “What is going on? Why has Mar—Mr. Fellows been arrested? You can’t possibly think he had anything to do with Naimo’s death! When did he die? And why didn’t someone contact me?”
“Naimo succumbed yesterday morning,” her father said.
“You were unavailable.” Her mother set aside her drawing of a landscape and moved to stand behind the emperor. A united front.
“You knew where I was. You could have sent a messenger.”
“There was nothing you could have done, and the analysis was not completed until this morning.” Her father looked grim.
“What analysis?”
“The one on the saber.�
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“On the saber? There was something wrong with the food!” What were they talking about?
“That’s what the healer originally assumed, but the blade used in the Sha’A’la was tainted,” her father explained.
Julietta gasped. “And you’re accusing March? That’s preposterous.”
Her mother raised her eyebrows. “You refer to Mr. Fellows as March? Where is your concern for Naimo?”
“Of course, I’m sorry Naimo has passed. He was a good man, and he did not deserve to die, but Marchand Fellows didn’t kill him.”
“The evidence suggests otherwise,” her father said.
“The evidence is wrong.”
“And you know this, how? By spending an hour in a skimmer with him? You are fortunate you did not become a victim as well.” Her mother narrowed her eyes. “How is it you two came to be together anyway?”
“I saw the skimmer land, and since we were both headed back, we flew together,” she lied, and hoped her parents wouldn’t remember the vehicle shouldn’t have landed at all. “He is innocent!”
“I am sorry, but under the circumstances, Mr. Fellows must remain in custody until the homicide investigation concludes. I will meet with the council to review the findings, witness reports, and other evidence,” he said.
This couldn’t be happening! She massaged her temples and suppressed tears of fear and frustration. March did not kill Naimo. She was uncertain about many things, but that she did know. He had been set up. But by whom and why? Why would someone kill Naimo? His reputation was above reproach, his loyalty to the emperor transparent to all.
“What about Kur?” she asked.
“He almost died, too, but thanks to the healer, he is recovering.” Her father glanced at her mother then at Julietta. “He, too, was poisoned, his food at the banquet tainted. We do not have the evidence to charge Mr. Fellows, but as he sat next to Kur, he had the opportunity to slip the poison into his food.”
Her mother looked straight at her. “What we don’t know is his motive. Why would he want to eliminate both your consort and the challenger?”
If they learned she’d been planning to run away with her former lover, it would provide a motive—that he eliminated Naimo and Kur so he could claim her. Except it wasn’t true!
Convincing anyone would be impossible. The more she protested his innocence, the guiltier he would appear to be, however, she couldn’t let her mother’s innuendo pass. Julietta schooled her features to imperial blankness. “He wouldn’t have been in the arena at all, if Father hadn’t conscripted him.”
“I regret that deeply,” the emperor said. “I had no idea how things would turn out.”
What was she going to do now? How would she get him freed? Panic threatened, but she couldn’t afford despair. Keeping a cool head would be the only way to help him. “What happens now?”
“Mr. Fellows will remain in custody pending the results of the investigation. The council has convened once already and will meet again tonight to discuss the situation. I would suggest you attend.”
“I’ll be there.” Wild yacuni couldn’t keep her away.
“We must maintain peace and social stability,” her mother said. “This unpleasant matter has stirred chaos, uncertainty, and upset. In the interest of restoring harmony as soon as possible, the council has requested, and we have concurred, that you proceed with the bonding ceremony, forgoing the Sha’A’la.”
Her blood chilled. “Bonding? What bonding?”
“To Kur,” her mother said. “With Naimo’s unfortunate passing, Kur, who had been the intended challenger, will become your future consort.”
“But he wasn’t the challenger! How can there be a bonding without a Sha’A’la?”
Her father leaned back in his throne. “This was the council’s consensus, suggested by Omax.”
“The seer didn’t choose?”
“She has said little on the matter.”
“No. This isn’t right or proper.” Julietta shook her head. “M-Mr. Fellows won the Sha’A’la. If anyone assumes Naimo’s place, it should be him.”
Her mother glanced at the emperor and then said, “Our tradition does not grant an alien bonding rights—”
“But he has Sha’A’la rights? If he can’t bond, why allow him in the arena? Why ask him to fill in?”
Her father raised his hand. “An error for which I accept full responsibility. But, be that as it may, the fact he won through a deceptive, criminal act would invalidate his win. And the event is only ceremonial anyway.”
“So is a bonding ceremony,” she pointed out. “One rite is the same as the next.”
“No.” Her father shook his head. “The bonding ceremony is more than a rite. It forms the foundation of our society. Without it, you cannot ascend to the throne and become empress. Your bonding to Kur will occur in a private ceremony three days hence.”
Her father’s eyes withheld all emotion. “With only a slight deviation, everything will work out as intended.”
* * * *
I should have told them I loved March. Once again, I have denied him. Guilt dogged Julietta all the way to the dungeon even though common sense insisted she’d done the prudent thing by keeping her mouth shut. Their past and present relationship would have been used against him. He was in enough trouble. This was the worst possible time to reveal their plans to leave.
They couldn’t convict him! They couldn’t! He didn’t do it. The full investigation would prove it. Right trumped wrong. Innocence would prevail.
What if it didn’t? The travesty had progressed this far. Without knowing who’d murdered Naimo and why, she couldn’t be certain of anything, except one thing.
Only three days remained before she would be forced to announce she would not agree to bond with Kur and would have to say why. Then, as the Terrans would say, the shit would hit the fan.
Hurrying along the corridor, she scanned into the lockdown area. Her visit, which would be recorded, would raise suspicions, but there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn’t recall when, if ever, that the dungeon had held a prisoner—or the last time she’d seen guards armed.
The two on duty snapped to attention as she entered.
Midway down the row, March stepped to the front of the unit and peered out as best he could. Her heart contracted. He appeared unharmed. She’d expected him to be, but it was a relief nonetheless. She didn’t doubt a cyborg could defend himself in a physical altercation, but a photon blast could have disrupted his circuits—although Xenians were pacifists; they didn’t go around shooting people.
They didn’t poison people either. Or arrest men for crimes they didn’t commit. Or even arm themselves. The descent into chaos had begun. Heart hammering, Julietta straightened and adopted her most haughty expression. “I command you to release Mr. Fellows,” she ordered in an imperious tone.
The guards stared straight ahead. One of them swallowed and then cleared his throat. “I am sorry, but we cannot do that.”
“Do you understand who I am?”
“Yes, Princess.”
“Then release him!”
“We are under orders from the emperor. We can free him only at his direction.”
She hadn’t expected the gambit to work, but fury swept over her. By everyone’s assumption, she would receive the scepter in a year, and her order counted for nothing? “Go! Wait outside.” She pointed at the door.
“It is not safe. We cannot…”
“Can the prisoner escape from his cell?”
“No, Princess, the force field is electrified. He would be incapacitated and rendered unconscious.”
“Whose orders require that you wait inside the cell block?”
The guards glanced at each other. “No one’s.”
“Then I command you to wait outside.”
They glanced at each other again. “As you wish.” They turned toward the door.
“And, guards?”
They glanced back at her.
/> “When I am empress, you both can expect to find yourselves on the other side of the force field.”
“Yes, Princess.” They nodded and beat a hasty retreat.
As she would never become empress, the threat would not be realized, but they didn’t know that. It would be fitting justice for them to worry for a year. She hurried to March’s cell.
* * * *
“Oh, March! I’m so sorry.” Two obsidian tears slid down Jules’s stricken face. She stood close enough to touch, except the electrified barrier prevented it. His gut contracted, and he ached to wipe away her fear.
“Don’t cry, Jules. It’s going to be okay.” He forced more confidence than he felt. Thanks to Cy-Ops, they had a flight off the planet—but only if he could get free. Hopefully they would move him for questioning, and he could escape.
She sniffed. “I’m going to get you out of here.”
“How?”
“I don’t yet. But I will.”
“Why do they believe I killed Naimo?”
“The saber you used in the Sha’A’la tested positive for poison.”
He’d been framed? He’d assumed Naimo’s collapse at the Sha’A’la had factored into his arrest, but this scenario had never occurred to him. “Son of a bitch.” He might need a Cy-Ops extraction team after all. “Who would want Naimo dead?” If they knew the who, they would probably know why he was being framed.
“I don’t have a clue,” she said.
“How is Kur doing?”
An expression too fleeting to identify skittered across her face. “He was quite ill, but is recovering.” She glanced at her feet before raising her gaze. “The only reason they haven’t charged you with his attempted murder is because they are still gathering evidence.”
“What! He had food poisoning!”
“No, someone deliberately altered his food. Because of what happened to Naimo and because you were seated with them at the banquet, they suspect you of that, too.”
March raked a hand through his hair then stepped back from the force field and swung his arms to work off some stress. He ordered his nanos to calm his racing heart. The situation was getting worse. “What happens next?”
