The Xillian Trilogy (The Xillian Rebellion)

by Maia Tanith

  All my family is already in a better place. One day I’ll be joining them. Mama, and Papa, and little Isobel, who died when Ma was sick with hunger and her milk wouldn’t come. I want to see them again, but not yet. When I am much older than my twenty-three years. When I’m ready, I’ll join them.

  I hope it’s not tonight.

  I run until my chest burns. I can see the border ahead of me. At this part of the border there is no barrier, but I know roughly where our land ends and where my new life will begin. There is a town on the other side. When I get to that town, I’ll be safe. I’ll start my new life. My new life, free from hunger and oppression and murder and the constant sound of gunshots. Safe from the corrupt policemen who are in the pockets of the gangs and their drug money.

  In the land of the free.

  Around me I can hear muffled shouts as the rest of the hopefuls I’d been crammed in the truck with cry out to each other. It’s so dark out, that even now that my eyes have had time to adjust, I can’t see anyone else.

  Then all of a sudden there’s light all around us.

  I choke on my breath. No. Not here. Not now. Not when I am so close.

  The spotlight sweeps over me, left then right. I’ve never felt so exposed.

  The brightness is even more terrifying than the dark, because it means we’re seen. Every twig on the scrubby bushes I’m running through is illuminated. Figures ahead of me and to each side dive to the ground, scrambling for cover amongst the sparse trees, hoping against hope to hide. To get away.

  The light is still sweeping the ground. I fall into a crouch, and keep running, trying to hide my face. I want to look up, to see if it’s a helicopter that’s spotted us. Whether it’s police, or a news crew. But I’ve heard they use facial recognition in the States. If they catch my face now, I’ll never be safe. I could live unnoticed for years, then have myself deported back to Mexico if my face is caught on camera in a shopping mall or walking down the street.

  This is what I heard from my old neighbor anyway. I’m not sure I trusted her gossip completely, but all the same, I won’t risk not listening.

  So I keep my hands over my face and keep as low to the ground as I can and keep running. My long hair fans out behind me, dirty from days of travel with no chance to wash. As soon as I find somewhere to hide, I will stay there and keep as still as a mouse. With any luck, whoever it is that is shining this light down on us will have their hands full with everyone else.

  I have to make it.

  I have no other choice.

  A branch on the ground ahead of me. I don’t see it until I am on top of it and realize my back foot has not lifted high enough off the ground to clear it. I brace for the impact against the ground and close my eyes. I fall hard, straight forward onto my face. My hands barely have time to break my fall.

  In the seconds after I hit the ground, everything is silent. I open my eyes, ready to push up, propel myself forwards again. If the spotlight keeps swinging left to right, and if I run fast enough, I can distance myself from the rest of the group and increase my chances of getting through.

  But when I open my eyes, the spotlight has stopped moving. It’s hovering directly above me, lighting me up brighter than the fireworks on Año Nuevo celebrations. This light isn’t like the happy fireworks we set off to welcome in a New Year. This light is not one to be celebrated, this is the light that anyone trying to cross the border avoids. This light means you’re caught. This light means the end of your dreams, not the beginning.

  There is a shout, and suddenly noises crowd in from all around me. The others from the truck are yelling around me. I see the figures of a man and a woman holding hands, he half dragging her away, and I realize with a start she is clutching a baby in one arm.

  I step forward again. I’m not caught yet. I’m not going to give up now. Then a shout from behind me, and something grabs my arm. I don’t turn around. I won’t give them the satisfaction. Instead, I watch as the man and the woman and the baby run. They run right out of the bright circle of light from the spotlight and fade into the night.

  Around me, the world fades to black.

  I was nearly there, I think, as the darkness creeps across my eyelids and my body falls to the ground. I was so, so close to a new life.

  Then nothing.

  Khan

  It’s a council meeting this morning. My presence was requested last night by the Hand of the Emperor. If you can call it a request, when it comes at the pointy end of a nerve detonator and there is no option but to agree to it.

  I don my red robes over my shirt, the robes that identify me as royalty, and walk to the council chambers on my own. My breakfast was served in my rooms cold and sits in the base of my stomach like a stone in water. The food I’m served has lost its taste long ago and I take little pleasure in meals these days. Even still, I stand tall and pretend I still have pride in who I am, as I walk the hallways alone.

  A few years ago, I was not ever left alone. My guards accompanied me between rooms and chambers and meeting halls, even riding alongside me in hunts. Now, I am a man, and the Emperor has given up even pretending to hide his dislike of me. Most of the time he ignores me, spending only effort on me enough to keep up appearances. In public I am still the prince, the heir to the Kargan royal throne, the ruler of Xill and our subsidiary mining planets.

  In private, things are quite different.

  I am under no illusion that my presence is anything other than unwanted. For the Kargans in the council chamber I am a risk. A risk to befriend, a risk to get to know. A smile at me in front of the Emperor when he is in the wrong mood could see them punished. Sent to mines on one of the hostile red dust planets to grub underground for minerals. Or worse, sent to the Games.

  Back when I was a boy, I was in the habit of joining the council’s chambers every turn. Back then, my father lectured me about the importance of listening to Kargans wiser than yourself before making decisions that impacted that planet.

  Back then I was excited, thrilled, unable to sit still, at the thought of joining the ranks of men and women that I looked up to with such wide-eyed admiration. I’d sit and listen and try to make sense of what they were saying, wishing that I was able to speak, too. I’d watch with excitement as Kargans argued and flashed their claws.

  Now, I do much the same. With little joy, less excitement, and no wide-eyed admiration at all.

  In the council chambers the Kargans are already seated. Few look at me, fewer nod. Most avert their eyes and pretend I’m not there.

  I stay quiet. I seat myself far down the end of the table. Far from my uncle. My safety here in the palace depends on my ability to stay invisible. My claws stay sheathed when I am in these chambers. I only extend my claws now to polish them in the privacy of my chambers. There are so many things I have to be careful about nowadays.

  I look about me with interest. It’s not often I’m asked in here anymore.

  The Emperor has ordered changes made to many of the rooms in the palace. The changes were subtle at first. Over the years, however, the palace has changed from the warm home I remember as a child to an over-the-top excess of luxury, punctuated by an excessive military presence.

  Guards are stationed at the entrance to the council chambers, where we used to have none. Glowing gold orbs fly about our heads, rotating above us and casting a warm glow across the room. The orbs are lights that are programmed to stay on while anyone is in the room, and they stay airborne with a quiet humming sound. I admit they’re helpful—they run off a newly created energy source, some form of natural element that was discovered on one of the mining planets, that can last for years.

  But it means that no room is ever dark. You can’t walk anywhere without being seen. Not that I have any friends left to visit any longer. Any who were my friends were banished long ago. Still, sometimes I wish for a dark, quiet night so I can wander the palace and reminisce, without the glowing orb whizzing along above my head, alerting everyone to my presence, and
notifying the Emperor if I trespass across the ever-shrinking boundaries of where I am allowed to walk.

  I shake my head. No point feeling down right now. Perhaps today will be different. I was invited here after all, after being obviously excluded for a long time.

  I look up at the high ceiling that opens to the sky. We Kargans don’t like to be kept in small spaces, and our palace is testament to that. The palace is the size of a small city, although these days I’m confined to a small area within it, except on celebration days where I am expected to parade alongside my uncle. We have our own hoverplane port within the palace grounds, where we house the private hoverplanes used by the emperor and a select trusted few of the court.

  There’s a spaceport nearby, too. I haven’t visited it in a long time, but I have heard rumors its being expanded. In order to ship more ciabaans and women direct to the emperor, no doubt.

  I shudder at the thought. The emperor has a taste for female of all species, and young ones at that. I’ve never seen it directly, but I hear things, being invisible.

  I don’t know how two such different people as my mother and the emperor were born in the same litter.

  A noise interrupts my thoughts. It’s the scraping of chairs as those in the council chambers all stand. I hasten to join them.

  The Emperor is coming.

  He enters the room with his eyes narrowed, glancing across the room and picking me out immediately. His mouth turns up into a small, cruel smile.

  Whatever I was hoping for vanishes. He didn’t ask me here for anything good.

  His robes are long enough to span the entire rectangular table where all fifteen of us sit. The red velvet is so heavy that six slave girls are needed to carry it. The Emperor stops in front of his seat and the girls remove his robes. Under them he wears nothing on his torso. Only a pair of blood-red pants.

  He does this on purpose. He is big, big even for a Kargan, and I know that he takes hormones, maybe other drugs, to bolster his size. He’s twenty years older than me, but no less physically strong. His torso is raked with scars from his time in battle. It’s a gruesome sight, and he knows this, and uses it to his advantage.

  It’s one thing to be respected as the Emperor, and it’s another thing to be feared.

  My uncle likes to be feared.

  Only when he sits can we return to our own chairs.

  Robotic servers hum around us to pour wine. It’s customary to drink to the ruler’s good health before a council meeting. I raise my cup to my lips along with everyone else, but I don’t drink. I will not touch a drop. My own small disobedience.

  “I thank you for wishing me well and drinking to my health,” my uncle says. His gaze flicks to my cup, just briefly. He knows I haven’t touched it.

  I straighten my back and stare back at him.

  “We have a lot to go through this morning, my friends.” He sits back in his chair and clasps his hands in front of him. “There are changes afoot.”

  My stomach drops. No change he’s made has been a good one.

  “Xfez, an update on the mines.”

  One of the councilors speaks up. She’d been close to my father when I was young. I’d ridden in her cyclopod on a hunt once. Now she is close to my uncle. “Mining is going well. We’ve relocated the city of Mei on the planet of Akrith in order to continue growth. The returns are expected to double over the next two years. A new shipload of prisoners has contributed greatly, but they can still do with more workers.”

  “We shall get them more workers, then,” my uncle replies. “What have you done with the population of Mei?”

  “Your Honor, we have removed them from the site of the future mine, but we haven’t rehomed them as of yet—” the councilor stutters.

  “No, you fool. What have you done with their men? The ones who can work? The women, too? You have a whole city to put in the mines—why find them new homes?”

  “I hadn’t considered that, your Honor.”

  My uncle takes a gulp of his wine. “Put everyone from Mei to work. Men, women, children who are big enough. If they don’t want the work, imprison them. Then if they still refuse to work, kill them. I will not tolerate idleness when there is work to be done.”

  The councilor nods. Her hands are clasped behind her back and I can see them shaking.

  A quiet mutter passes around the table. Someone has to say something. Please, anyone. This is madness.

  My uncle frowns at the noise. “If you wish to argue this, then speak up,” he barks.

  “Your Honor,” one of the other councilors says. He’s one of the eldest of the group. Caidgrath. I didn’t know him much as a child; he was old even then. He stands, a little shakily. His mane of hair is pure grey, his eyes lined heavily with age. “Your Honor, it is one thing to send prisoners to work in the mines, but a whole city of innocents? They will not be used to working under such conditions. A lot of them will die. There will be engineers, mechanics, healers among them. We could use them more profitably elsewhere.”

  My uncle looks at him, like one might look at a small bug that flits about their head. “They are not innocent. No one on that planet is. They all fought against us when we invaded them. No one on that ass end of a planet is any use to me unless they are contributing to our great empire.”

  The old councilman persists. “With all due respect, dear Emperor, the children did not fight against you.”

  No one in the room moves.

  I want to jump up and down and praise him for speaking, but I am too scared to move also. I am no better than the rest of them.

  My uncle’s eyes are narrowed to slits. “Neither are there healers and mechanics among the children so they little other use to me. Besides, they are born of the disloyal Kargans who fought me or supported those who fought me. Not one of them is loyal to the empire. Not one of them is innocent. I’m doing them a kindness by letting them live. I could have annihilated all of Mei. Instead, they have a chance to prove their worth to me, and to this empire.”

  The councilman drops his shoulders. He knows, we all know, that he’s lost.

  Something comes over me. I jump to my feet before I can stop myself. “He’s right. This is a foolish waste.”

  My uncle’s gaze snaps to me. There’s a collective intake of breath, and every head turns to me. Even the slave girls watch with interest mixed with fear. I never speak in here. I never stand unless ordered.

  My heart pounds in my chest. My claws start to creep out, and it takes everything in me to calm my breath enough to speak. “You can’t send a whole city to the mines. It’s genocide. You’ll kill them all. Even if some of them fought against us, they don’t deserve such a harsh punishment.”

  My uncle is smiling now. “In some respects, my dear nephew, I think you may be right. Some of them might die in the mines. They can be very dangerous after all. But what can we do? We need what they produce.”

  I stand still, confused. He’s playing a game with me, one that I can’t see yet.

  My uncle strokes his chin. “Yes, you are right to worry about the unnecessary loss of life. I assure you that I would rather keep them alive and working than to have them die.”

  I stay standing. The older councilman sits down and regards me with curiosity. The rest of the room daren’t move. They all look as confused as I do.

  “Ah-ha!” My uncle claps his hands. “I must thank you, nephew, and I credit you for this idea. I will send someone from the court to oversee the safe transition of the Mei population into the work camps. Someone I trust. Someone with empathy for their plight.”

  His mouth widens into a smile that stretches from ear to ear. He licks his lips. “Someone who will be responsible for their safety and punished severely if anything goes wrong. Do you have an idea of who might be a good candidate for this highly important task?”

  He lets his gaze lie on me for a second before scanning the room. “Any one of you here would be good for this job. I will think about this for a turn or two before I send
anyone. One of you, or your kits if you are too old to go yourself, will be granted this honor.”

  Everyone in the room twitches.

  Akrith is a dangerous planet. More dangerous for anyone in the royal family, or for their councilors. We invaded them and killed a lot of them for the right to mine the planet into dust. Not a single one of us would last more than a few days there. And in the mines, accidents happen.

  I sit down. In the mines, accidents happen a lot.

  His words are a threat, and not a subtle one. Do as I say, or I will send you and your family to Akrith.

  I stay quiet for the rest of the session. I wish I could block my ears to the things said, and the atrocities that my uncle, one of my last remaining family, is planning. No one pays me any attention.

  That is, until the emperor departs, and he shoots me a look that makes me shudder. “Thank you for your attendance, nephew,” he says as he leaves the room. “I was glad to have your thoughts on Mei.”

  His words bounce off me. How many times have I heard them before? Be quiet or you will be punished.

  The slave girls follow behind him, carrying the long red robe out the door, like a pool of blood that drips from the emperor at every step.

  The rest of the councilors depart quickly afterwards. I drop my head to my hands and wait for them to leave. It makes it easier on everyone if we all pretend I don’t exist. If the complication of me can be ignored, the inevitable decision on how to deal with me can be deferred.

  I rub my temples. If I had any pride left in me, I would have stood up for myself. If I had any pride left in me, I’d be ashamed that my silence was bought by nothing more than a threat to my life and to the life of my family. But there is no pride left. Only pretense.

  The two guards at the doorway glance at me before leaving. If I was a threat, they’d stay to watch me. Everyone knows I have been defeated. They all saw me wilt in the face of his threats. They are ashamed of me. I am ashamed of myself.

  When the footsteps have faded down the hallway, I stand and slowly walk alongside the long table towards the door. My hand trails across the backs of the chairs. All velvet, all red. The color of royalty. The color of my family. The color of anger and fire and blood. And, to me they represent most of all the color of hopelessness.