Empress Game 2

by Rhonda Mason

  A silver dot blinked on her desktop. The message [not good] came across on her datapad, attached to Raorin’s ID. Her instinctive response was a sarcastic, “Yeah, you think?” She refined her reply to fit Isonde’s style with effort. She scribbled [perhaps he’ll keep it short] with her stylus.

  Not likely. Araújo was rabidly anti-Wyrd and could go on about their “evil” for days without stopping for breath. Thank the stars he was only allotted twenty minutes to discuss the policy proposal he’d filed yesterday before debate on the topic began.

  Kayla called up the list of policy proposals on the table for the day. Since his was titled “Fair and Righteous Retaliatory Action for TNV Terrorist Attack on Falanar by the Wyrds from Ilmena,” she had a good idea what to expect.

  Fantastic. War-mongering. Just what they needed.

  “It’s clear that Prince Trebulan’s TNV attack on the empire at the attempted wedding of our most honored Prince Ardin was masterminded by the Wyrds from Ilmena,” Araújo’s hologram began. “Even if you ignore the thorough findings of the military proving their guilt”—he flashed a look at Raorin, who had openly called the findings into question—“the fact remains that the Wyrds were the only ones with the technology to get the nanovirus past all of our scanning protocols and onto the planet’s surface.”

  Which, in Araújo’s defense, was a fair point. Trebulan, coming from a planet infected with the TNV and being somehow immune himself, certainly had access to the nanovirus. What he lacked was a way to get it onto Falanar, especially during the heightened security of the Empress Game.

  “Though the attack was thwarted by our own Councilor Isonde, this terrorist action, this assault on the very heart of our empire, cannot go unanswered. The Wyrds showed their willingness to act without mercy, to kill innocents and civilians, and in a manner of unspeakable cruelty. We can do no less in defense of our great empire.”

  He went on to suggest that the military use Ordoch as a home base in Wyrd Space, a jumping-off point from which to attack Ilmena itself.

  “We must bring the fight to these cowards, who would use our own people, our own disaster against us,” he finished.

  The number of councilors around the room who nodded in agreement with this idiocy gave her some alarm. That more than a handful even considered this proposal a viable option was beyond her.

  Raorin’s light blinked on her datapad: [well, that went worse than I’d hoped for]

  Holographic Araújo winked out and the adjudicator opened the floor to discussion. A hundred rebuttals came to Kayla’s mind: How could anyone cognizant of the tenuous nature of the Ordochian occupation think the empire had anything like a “home base” there? Where would the extra troops come from? More importantly, how would that help stop the spread of the TNV in the empire? How would that help them find a cure? Rebuild the damaged planets? Keep the Protectorate Planets in line, who were themselves headed for a possible war?

  Even if the Wyrds had planned Trebulan’s attack—and she refused to think Tia’tan and Noar capable of that—how did the empire not see that they’d brought any such action on themselves by attacking Ordoch in the first place? The hypocritical self-righteousness of Araújo’s speech stoked her ire.

  Thankfully the majority of the councilors who joined the discussion shared many of her objections. The lack of resources to wage an intergalactic war on two fronts was mentioned, as well as the dearth of popular support for military actions in Wyrd Space at the moment. That could change in an instant, though, if the panic were great enough.

  When Araújo’s crony turned the tone of the debate into an “it’s us or them!” dynamic, the adjudicator called the discussion closed and moved onto the next proposal.

  There were a million and one policy proposals on the docket, only a handful of which were worth taking seriously. Many of the others would be tossed out by the adjudicator for their irrelevance. Councilors had used the emergency convocation of the council to put forth proposals for their own domestic issues, unrelated to the mandate of the emergency session, which was to decide on a plan of action for addressing the problem of the TNV.

  Everyone had expected a proposal from Councilor Gi, or any of the councilors from Wei-lu-Wei, but despite news of their TNV outbreak becoming public, they remained silent. Hopefully Gi was thinking over Raorin’s words from the meeting yesterday, considering that her planet’s best hope was to throw their support in with Isonde and Raorin’s plan.

  Hopefully.

  The day wound on with a long series of proposals that varied from blockading Wei-lu-Wei off entirely; cancelling all space travel to and from the planet; establishing aid stations on the as yet uninfected continents to house refugees; creating massive “firebreaks” around the infected areas—a method of containment that had only been mildly effective on other worlds; bombing the infected landmass to ash, and so on.

  The number of proposals focused on finding an actual cure for the TNV was much lower. They were mainly focused on increased funding for the scientists currently trying to work on a cure—a cure they hadn’t been able to find in a decade. One or two took the vein of attempting diplomatic negotiations with the Wyrds on Ordoch to see if they might now, after five years of occupation, be ready to help. Kayla made note of those councilors, as well as the councilors who seemed to respond favorably to the idea, with a mind to approach them later. If she had access to the imperial data stream, she’d download all the information she could find on them now. However, with the exception of the adjudicator, everyone was cut off from outside communication of any electronic sort while in chambers.

  The proposals that worried her most were those put forth by councilors from Inja, the smallest of the Sovereign Planets, and from Hurruha’s councilors, a planet that rivaled Piran for influence. They called for harsher military action on Ordoch, arguing that the empire hadn’t applied enough pressure on the Wyrds there to force them to develop a cure. Those proposals were delivered well. The councilors laid out definitive plans of action and avoided over-emotionalizing the issue. People who didn’t respond to the overt war-mongering from Araújo earlier seemed to at least be considering these proposals.

  Kayla had been given the last speaking slot of the day, arguably the best position to be in. Councilors would end the session with her words ringing in their ears.

  She activated her comm and Isonde’s hologram sprang to life in the center of the room. Kayla had had a new hologram preprogrammed for this, her first council proposal since winning the Empress Game. In the image, her deep indigo gown sparkled, the sleek fabric shimmering from its high collar to its long skirt. Subtle jade accents flashed here and there, the message “I’m about to marry into the royal family” coming across clearly. Lastly she’d had Isonde’s auburn hair braided and coiled about the top of her head like a coronet.

  Discount the words of the Empress-Apparent at your peril.

  She opened her notes on the proposal she and Ardin had crafted, and Raorin had refined. Everything was in readiness. Trebulan’s attack and Wei-lu-Wei’s TNV outbreak set the perfect stage from which to argue for a withdrawal from Ordoch. The immediate need for a cure would force the issue, and the inroads Isonde had been making into both councils for the last year would bear fruit.

  Kayla stood, earning surprised glances from everyone. She was too full of passion on the topic to deliver her speech sitting down. This was for her people’s freedom, perhaps their very lives. She could do this, she would sway these politicians.

  She took a final calming breath. She was Kayla Reinumon, ro’haar, one of the last remaining heirs to the throne of Ordoch. She was Princess Isonde Veriley of Gangisha, Sovereign Planet Piran, soon to be Empress-Apparent.

  “Esteemed councilors. Today—”

  Her hologram winked out and her comm went dead as the chandeliers came back to full brightness.

  The adjudicator’s voice filled the chamber. “My apologies, Councilor Isonde, councilors. There has been an… incident.” It sounded alm
ost like a question, as if she wasn’t sure what to call it. “The session is adjourned effective immediately, and you will be escorted directly outside upon exiting the chamber through the rear doors only. Security will see to your safety.” With no more instruction than that the closing chime sounded and the adjudicator rose. She ignored questions from the councilors on all sides and ducked through the door at the front that led to her private rooms.

  The skin prickled on the back of Kayla’s neck when a message from the adjudicator flashed on her datapad: [Captain Arsenault, chief of security, is waiting to take you into custody. Present yourself to him immediately.]

  4

  [Captain Arsenault, chief of security, is waiting to take you into custody. Present yourself to him immediately.]

  Kayla’s skin flashed ice cold. Bredard. That bastard! He had said she had a week before he exposed her.

  She could barely draw a breath, lungs locked tight at the shock of finally being discovered. What to do? For the second her mind answered only, “You’re trapped! Trapped. Trapped…”

  “Well, of all the preposterous—” the older councilor beside her grumbled. She blocked out the sound and searched the room’s exits.

  Isonde would accept her capture calmly. Isonde would rise gracefully from the hover chair, make her stately way out of the chambers and greet the soldiers waiting with a cool nod of her head, acting as though she’d done nothing wrong.

  Isonde could kiss her ass.

  Capture meant inquisition. Trial. Execution. Hers and Malkor’s.

  No frutting way.

  Exit, she needed an exit.

  All around her people rose from their seats, hundreds of obstacles that stood between her and a way out. They milled like leaves in an eddy, clumping here and there, more curious than concerned about the interruption. Very few actually headed for the doors at the rear. That gave her some time.

  The side doors? There was a door set in a deep recess on either side of the room, both still closed. They were rarely used—would they still be guarded? Probably. If they knew who she really was and all she’d done so far, they wouldn’t risk it.

  The media gallery? Even if her hover chair could lift her three stories off the ground, there was no telling if the doors in the back of that balcony would be unlocked. Then she’d be trapped for sure.

  Her gaze landed on the adjudicator’s door. There had to be another entrance from there into the building proper. Would they think to guard that?

  Didn’t matter. The adjudicator’s chambers were the best of her terrible options.

  She cursed Isonde’s prominent seat in the middle of the rows of desks. Councilors blocked the aisle to either side of her, and where she really needed to go was forward, across the rows to the front of the room. The main walkways of the chamber were clogged, all but impassable now.

  Malkor’s face flashed in her mind. No way to get a message to him. Damn the communications-blocking field of the council chamber!

  She had to warn him. If she could reach him first, maybe they could run. Maybe one of them could escape at least. It had better be him. No way she’d let him be killed, not while there was any fight left in her.

  And she had plenty of fight.

  She toed off her dress heels and hit the altitude adjustment on her hover chair, shooting to the height of the desk. With a push off the shoulder of the councilor beside her she stepped onto her desk and immediately leapt to the desk one row ahead.

  Thank goodness for embedded ro’haar training—she’d dressed in a loose, knee-length skirt with plenty of room for any necessary action. Her bare feet had perfect traction on the desk’s aeroglass surface when she landed. A councilor from Trijika shrieked when Kayla stepped on her shoulder to launch herself forward to the next desk.

  “What the void?” Councilors scrambled out of her way, some shouting, some pointing. She knocked the wig off of someone’s head with her next jump and stumbled, nearly crashing into the back of the hover chair on the other side of that desk.

  Two desks to go. Then a building full of security—and no doubt imperial military officers—to blow through on her way out.

  Malkor, you had better be ready to run when I get there.

  She made the next desk easily and jumped for the last one without breaking her momentum. Thankfully no one knew enough to stop her. That and they were all too stunned to try.

  At least she was ending her career as Isonde with style.

  She hit the floor at a run and launched herself shoulder-first at the door to the adjudicator’s suite. It burst open, sending her stumbling through an office and into private chambers beyond.

  The adjudicator, deep in conversation with someone at a complink terminal, shot to her feet. “You shouldn’t be here!” The face of a council security officer gaped at her from the screen.

  A dry chuckle escaped Kayla before she could stop it. “No shit.” There. Another room lay beyond this one, and through the passage she saw her way out.

  “You should be with the guards! It’s not safe.”

  “Lady, I haven’t been safe in five years. This is just another day in my life.” Kayla sprinted through the remaining room and opened the door to the corridor beyond.

  Empty. For the moment. She grabbed her mobile comm from her belt as she took off down the hallway. The blackout field only covered the council chambers themselves. She punched in Malkor’s code.

  Please don’t let me be too late.

  “Kayla?”

  “Thank the stars! Malkor, listen—you have to run, get out of there, wherever you are.” She approached a T in the corridor at a full sprint. Left or right? Damnit! “They know about Isonde. They’re after me.”

  She chose right, which turned out to be wrong as she slammed full-force into a security guard, sending them both sprawling to the floor and her comm spinning away.

  “Princess Isonde!” The security guard got to his feet first, his face red as if with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry.” He reached down to help her, babbling like a junior councilor in the presence of royalty. “I didn’t think— The adjudicator said— I’m so glad you’re safe.” He seemed unaware that he still gripped her hand and that she gaped at him like an imbecile.

  His words slowly penetrated the flight response fogging her brain. Isonde?

  The young guard spoke into his comm. “I have Princess Isonde with me, sir; she’s unharmed. Should I escort her to you?” He finally realized he still had her hand and dropped it, turning a darker shade of red.

  “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” He gave her a smile that was half-comforting, half-star-struck.

  The pounding need to flee thrummed through her, almost forcing her into motion. What was going on here? If this was an arrest, it was the worst arrest attempt in the galaxy. And he’d called her Isonde.

  “What the void is going on?” she asked, balanced on the balls of her feet, ready for anything.

  “I… I’m sorry, Princess. I thought you knew. They said you’d fled the council chamber so I assumed you’d received a threat on your life.” When she remained mute, he continued. “Your bodyguard, he’s been… well, he’s been murdered. We suspect poison.”

  “Rawn?” The words tilted her sideways. It took a moment to reorient herself to the new landscape. She wasn’t under arrest. No one was chasing down Malkor.

  “My captain was waiting to take you into protective custody outside the chamber’s rear entrance, since this was clearly an attack aimed at you. When you fled the chambers, we assumed you’d received a death threat and needed a quicker escape route.”

  She nodded like an automaton, her mind racing. “Yes. A death threat. Exactly why I ran.”

  Her freedom, her life, weren’t at risk. Malkor was safe.

  Wait—Malkor. She dashed to where her comm lay and snatched it up. “I’m fine,” she said, the words coming out on a rush of breath. “I’m fine. It’s fine. We’re…” She sighed, her heart finally beginning to slow. “We’re okay.”

&
nbsp; Malkor’s voice shouted at her from the other end. “What the frutt is going on? I thought you were at council? Where are you? Stay there. I’m coming right now. Where?” he demanded.

  “Council,” she said, “I’m safe.” She was safe, but, Rawn? The full impact of the guard’s words hit her. “I have to go.” She cut the connection before he could object.

  Rawn. Isonde’s favorite bodyguard. Her favorite bodyguard. “He can’t be dead.”

  The guard ducked his head. “I’m sorry, Princess. The medics have already seen him and pronounced the time.”

  “How is that possible?” Rawn had been in the council seat the whole time, hadn’t he?

  “We’ll find out, trust me. For now, I have orders to take you to Captain Walsh. He’ll keep you safe until—”

  “No. Take me to Rawn.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I’ve never been in this section of the seat, and I don’t know where to find him.” She’d never been in any other part of the council seat before, not that he knew that.

  The young guard looked ill at ease. “That’s not a good idea.”

  “If you won’t take me, then point me in the right direction and I will go by myself.” How could Rawn be dead? Who could even accomplish such a thing in the middle of all this security?

  “Captain says I’m to keep you safe,” the man tried.

  As if he could do a better job than she could herself. Kayla picked a direction at random and started jogging. She had to see Rawn for herself.

  “Princess! Wait!” He clearly didn’t expect his shout to have an effect because he jogged after her right away, his boots loud against the floor compared to her barefoot tread. “It’s this way.”

  They passed the rest of the way in silence and arrived at a cafeteria. People who could only be the other councilors’ bodyguards were scattered throughout the room, talking in groups, being interviewed by council security.