31
The second she was on the ship, the Empress became herself again. Not three steps from the door, a medical officer in full surgical gear was waiting, arms ready to catch her. "Your Majesty," she said, over the roar of the engine. "This way, please."
The ship lurched, and she felt a tiny tug of gravity pushing her down as the inertial stabilizers struggled to keep up with what she assumed was a mad dash for the atmosphere. She followed the medical officer into a small compartment, where a scanning table was waiting for her.
Once she was nestled in, the officer ran through a checklist of questions: had she sustained any injuries? had she been subject to torture, physical or otherwise? what had she ingested? what regional compounds had she come into contact with? had she engaged in sexual intercourse, either willingly or—
The Empress caught the officer's hand, startling the poor woman. "Where is Captain Shaw?" she asked.
The officer checked her checklist like it might have the answer, but no. She didn't want to disappoint her regent, so she took the coward's way out: "I can check if you like."
The Empress lay back after that, staring at the ceiling, feeling the ship shudder and tremble around her. If there had been any other questions, she hadn't heard them. She was too busy trying to think of how to play the Colton situation without causing even more of a scandal than she was already in.
Not even fifteen minutes later, they were docked in orbit. A quartet of security guards arrived at her chambers, blasters at the ready, staring straight past her as was proper and expected and required... and yet, after the last few days, felt cruelly dispassionate. She felt alone in a room of people.
Whatever ship they were on, it was cleared of all personnel to give her a clear path to her quarters. It felt like the ship was deserted.
But inside her rooms, that all changed. A small crowd of attendants were waiting for her, with silks and furs and combs and brushes and sponges and everything else she might've needed in a week of high-profile events, all ready for her to use in this instant.
And yet all she wanted was a bath of rose-scented water.
She let them do their duty, because anything else would be improper. Bathed, sculpted, groomed, polished, dressed, made up, styled, re-dressed, enhanced, touched up, re-dressed, and then, finally, left alone in front of a mirror. The tight dress with the tall collar and sleeves. The cloak, with feathers and fur this time. The thick-soled shoes to give her the height to look down upon her subjects.
The sad look in her eyes. Thank the gods no one could ever see that.
She resisted the urge to ask about Colton again; it was natural to request her bodyguard be present in some situations, but in the safety of her own quarters, in the presence of her attendants, she shouldn't need protecting. Asking about him would be highly improper. So she waited, patiently, for the opportunity to leave, and need him again.
She just had to figure out what she would say. How it would end, officially.
A porter arrived at the door, bowing deeply, and flanked by six guards, each with bigger weapons and thicker armor than before. The porter spoke a little too loudly, with a silly tremolo to his voice:
"Your Majesty, I am to escort you, if you are ready."
She'd been ready for an hour at least. She walked straight past the porter, letting the guards form a protective ring around her, and marched onward. The porter scrambled to get to the front, because otherwise the Empress would have no idea where to go... but he couldn't get past her guards. "Next right, your Majesty!" he called, feebly, from behind. She grinned, and led on.
She had been thinking about next steps, and how to proceed, given everything that had happened. Clearly, her royal council had sent a representative or two out to Kgego to manage things, assuming she and her brother had died in the attack. They would, of course, defer to her, now that she was back in the picture... and if she told them to stop the assaults on the Kgegan cities, they would have to obey.
But the fact remained: her brother, Deo'ta and so many others had died on that yacht. If she didn't punish the Kgegans, it would cripple her authority, possibly fatally. As with Colton, she had to get what she wanted — to see him again, if only briefly — without making it look like she had wanted it at all.
She paused by a heavy pair of double doors, took a bracing breath, and prepared to make her case to council.
But when the doors opened, it wasn't what she expected.
"Torsten!" she cried, and raced to him, hugging him tight.
Torsten seemed surprised at the show of affection. He didn't hug her back, just stood there in shock. "Your Majesty..." he said. "It's good to have you back."
She pulled away, trying not to cry at the expected turn of events, happy as it was. "I thought you were dead," she said. "I thought they killed you. We would've looked for you, Torsten, if we'd known—"
"If Captain Shaw had allowed that, I'd have had his head," Torsten said with a smile. He invited her in, and the guards took up positions outside the door as it closed.
His room was lavish, in the style of their father. A far cry from the rock-and-vine motif of the last few days.
"Excuse the mess," he said, despite there being absolutely no mess whatsoever. "I had them dispatch my Imperial Cruiser to pick us up, but they had only just started taking it apart to remove the mass driver."
"So no garden, then," she said.
"No, but if you want a city destroyed, I'm your man," he said, then saw her expression change, and added: "Sorry, I'm sorry. It's no time for jokes."
She brushed it off. "I could use some levity, I think."
She settled, carefully, into the middle of a long sofa, while Torsten prepared them both wine.
"I must know," he said, handing her a glass. "How did you make it off the ship? We've been tracking escape pods nonstop since the incident, but none of them seemed to land anywhere near where you ended up."
She sipped, and let the rush of cold liquid remind her of who she was. "We couldn't make it to an escape pod," she said. "We took a cargo shuttle."
"Cargo shuttle?" Torsten said with an impressed look on his face. "Captain Shaw can fly an Imperial shuttle?"
"No, no he can't," she said, grinning, and took another mouthful of wine. It gave her the courage to broach the next subject: "You've been bombing the surface," she said. "The Kgegan cities."
He winced at that, nodded. "Yes, uh, I apologize for that. If we'd known you were alive, and in the vicinity, we never—"
"It's fine, Torsten," she said. "It's been a confusing time for all of us." She steeled herself. "But it's time to move on."
He looked up — not at her, obviously, but near enough. "Move on how?"
"The rebels have defied the Empire, and drawn blood. And there will be consequences. But there are so many innocents down there, brother. So many innocent lives that should not be stolen away by fire from the sky."
"But your Majesty..." he said, setting his wine glass down. "The whole purpose of this trip was to show the rest of the Empire what the price of disobedience is... if you turn back now, the signal it would send would be—"
"The signal will be loud and clear: those who cross us will be punished. Severely. But guilt by association is not a part of Imperial justice."
Torsten didn't agree, but knew better than to argue such a firm opinion. "So what do we do next?" he asked. "Go back to Iffrysilia, or—"
"No," she said. "You asked me, before, what kind of ruler I wanted to be. I didn't know then, but I do now: considered, not impulsive." She thought of Colton, back from his midnight escapade, against orders. "Firm, but merciful." She thought of Botoba in the rubble, of Yara crying on her shoulder. "Unyielding, but principled." And she thought of Piro, their fates in his hands, treating them with decency, like the innocents they'd pretended to be.
Torsten seemed uncertain. "So what d
oes that mean?"
"It means we're staying," she said. "We came here to deliver an ultimatum, and deliver it we shall. We will give Tgente Piro one chance — just one — to surrender himself and his soldiers."
"And if he refuses?"
"I don't think he will," she said. "I can't explain why, other than to say he's not a fanatic. There's logic to him. I could see it in his eyes."
Torsten blanched: "Wait, you saw him? Talked to him? And he let you go?"
There was so much to tell him, so much to unpack, but it was so tangled up with Colton and her feelings for and against him that she couldn't... not now. Now yet. So instead, she said: "He didn't realize who I was."
Torsten was amazed. "Well, that's lowered my respect for the man considerably. But I have to ask: what if you're wrong? What if he won't surrender?"
"Then our justice will be swift, unrelenting, and targeted."
Torsten will even less sure about the idea now. "That will be a messy campaign."
"Which is why I am certain he won't refuse. As much as he hates the Empire, he loves his people more. He won't subject them to that kind of torment over his pride. I know it."
"I hope you're right," said Torsten, warily.
She smiled — if Torsten had seen it, he would have been surprised. Smiling was not something she did as the Empress of the Boundless Empire. Smiling was something she did as Ilina, wife of Colton.
"I survived these attacks for a reason, Torsten," she said. "I survived the Yacht for a reason. To show me the Empress I am meant to be. If I can live up to those ideals, I will have earned my life."
He let out a stressed sigh, but seemed to agree, by the look on his face. "Honestly, I'm just so thankful you survived at all," he said, "and that you weren't in that escape pod when the bomb went off. The gods have truly smiled upon us."
The Empress' smile froze. She hadn't told Torsten about the bomb in the escape pod, and the yacht had disintegrated in the atmosphere, destroying any evidence there had been a trap at all.
There were only two ways he could have known that: either Colton had already debriefed him... or he knew it was there all along.
32
"Your Majesty! This way, please!" shouted the guards aboard the shuttle, above the building.
The Empress nodded to Colton. "After this, Captain, you're fired." He opened his mouth to protest, but she wouldn't have it. "I can't be the cause of your noble death. I can't. So after this, it's over."
He watched as she disappeared inside the shuttle, ushered away by an attendant.
The wind whipped his face, stinging like knives, but that felt pleasant compared to the feeling he had in his gut, in his soul. There was so much to say, so much to fix, but no time or place to do it. And he was holding them up, risking the mission. He slung his jacket back on, striding to the ship, and—
—came face-to-face with a blaster, pointed at his chest.
"Not you, Captain," said the guard, and fired.
Years of awful experience taught Colton how to survive the impossible. Before his brain even registered the gun aimed at his chest, his body was twisting itself away, even at the expense of its overall safety. When the shot hit his shoulder, he was well on his way to tumbling off the roof — the force of the blast just hastened his fall.
His head hit the slope of the roof hard, and the world went mercifully dark.
* * *
He heard the sound of voices first; urgent and calling, then closer and soothing. He felt like he was falling, but falling slowly, turning carefully, moving through space and time in a way that felt unreal.
"Lay still, Colton," they said. "Stay still."
The next thing he could hold on to was the feeling of his right shoulder burning like a son of a bitch. He tried to reach for it, as if he could make it stop with his hand, but his left arm wouldn't budge. His head wouldn't turn, either, nor his legs, nor could he sit sit up to—
"Not yet," said a woman's voice, close by. "Patience."
He didn't have patience. He didn't have time for patience. His mind was so hazy, he could tell why he was so panicked, but he had a crystal-clear view of the Empress in his mind's eye, and the sight of her frown was terrifying.
The world faded again, and when it came back, it had color. He lifted his head — which he could do, finally — and squinted to make sense of his surroundings. A small room, orange rock, low ceiling, blankets everywhere, and candles, and a scent like roses, and...
And Ugero sitting across the way, glaring at him.
Colton tried to pull away, but his shoulder hurt too much, and more worryingly, he discovered he was strapped down with vines. Pulled tight. Restraints.
"You are a tough man to kill," said Ugero, massaging his hand like he needed it limber for what came next.
"Ugero, listen—"
"They found you hanging from the side of the building," he said. "Tangled in vine. Lucky to be alive."
Well that explained that. Turns out his body was instinctively better at survival than his strategic mind was.
Ugero pointed to the sky. "They thought you were a hero when they saw the ship taking off. Thought you took a blast fighting them off. Thought you were someone worth saving."
Ugero leaned forward, eyes red and tired. "And then I woke up."
Colton didn't know what to say, so he went with the truth: "I didn't want to hurt you."
Ugero laughed bitterly. "You didn't hurt me, Earth-man." He patted at his heart. "You wounded me."
Colton said nothing. What was there to say?
No, there was something to say. There was too much to say. And he was sick of holding it back.
"I had a job," he said. "I one purpose, one mission, one focus. To keep her safe. And whatever gets in my way, whatever lines I have to cross, I have to do it. To keep her alive."
He smacked his head back against the bed he was strapped to, growled at the pain. "I had to get her out of here. They were going to keep bombing, and eventually one of those bombs was going to kill us all, and I couldn't... I could let..."
He let out a furious roar, twisting against the restraints and getting nowhere. "And I fucked up. I called for help, and I didn't stop to think who else was listening. I led them straight to her, and I..."
He looked over at Ugero, tears welling in his eyes. "I fucked up. On every count. I had one job, and I fucked it up so bad, there's no coming back from it for me. I led them straight to her. If I'd just listened to her and talked to Piro, none of this would have—"
"Talk to me about what?" came a voice from the door, and Colton adjusted his gaze to see Piro there, arms crossed, face tense and grave.
Colton opened his mouth to speak, but wasn't sure where to begin.
Piro came closer, standing over him, sharp teeth flickering into view as he tried to contain his rage. "I know there's good in you somewhere, Colton," he said. "I saw it once before. So I ask you, please, tell me when the next strike comes, so I can get the civilians to safety."
Colton wished he could. He wished he could say anything to make things a little less awful. "I don't know," he said. "I wish I did, but I don't know."
"You called them here," said Piro, leaning in closer. "You brought them there. You know."
"No, you don't understand..." said Colton, as Piro's teeth edged closer to his throat. "That's not who I called. The ones who came, they weren't on our side. On her side. I didn't—"
"What did she want to tell me?" Piro asked, voice so calm it was terrifying all on its own. "Tell me. Clear your conscience, Colton. Tell me."
"She isn't..." Colton found it hard to say the words, despite it not really mattering anymore. The mission was over, he was done, nothing mattered at all anymore. "She was going to surrender herself to you."
"I don't understand. Surrender for what? What did she do?"
&nbs
p; "She didn't do anything. But you..." He shook his head in regret. "We weren't on our honeymoon. We aren't married. I'm her bodyguard. And I failed at my mission."
"What mission? Colton, what are you talking about?"
"We're maybe the only survivors of an assassination attempt aboard the Yacht."
"Yacht? Assassination? For a winemaker's daughter?"
"She's not a winemaker's daughter," said Colton. "She's Ilina, Empress of the Boundless Empire."
Piro's eyes opened wide, his jaw tensing like mad. He turned to Ugero, whose mouth was hanging open in shock. Piro was stunned by the news, but Ugero summed it up best: "Oh shit."
Piro turned back, grabbed Colton by the shoulders. "What did the ship look like, Colton? What markings?"
"I don't know... I... it was dark, and... why?"
Ugero snapped the restraints off him, yanked him upright. "You just shat the bed."
"We need to find the Empress and get her back," said Piro, heading for the door. "The future of the Empire depends on it."
Colton got to his feet, feeling as unsteady physically as he was mentally. "The future of the Empire?" he said. "I thought you hated the Empire! You're rebels!"
Piro laughed bitterly. "Don't be stupid, Colton. We're not fighting to defeat the Empire, we're fighting to save it from Prince Torsten!"
33
"What do you mean you're fighting to save it?" Colton asked, on their way through the maze of the cave tunnels. "Kgego kidnapped its governor! You seized control of the... whatever it is!"
"Allium," said Piro, gravely. "And we didn't kidnap the governor, he fled to avoid prosecution." He stopped, gave Colton the most withering stare. "This isn't Earth. We aren't some backwater people at the mercy of true civilization. We saw corruption, and we fought back..." His face went cold, distant. "We just didn't realize who the governor was working for."
He opened a side door and continued on. Colton raced to keep up, with his swimming head and aching limbs. "Why do you think it's Torsten?" he called. "He's her closest ally. Why would he—"
The Galactic Empress' Bodyguard Page 13
