“Any more news, Doctor?” her father asked. “And please, in as plain English as possible this time.” Nikol peripherally recognized a new note of strain in his voice that carried through the sorrow. You’ve stayed calm and collected for five days, Father. Then you have a private meeting with Mother, and suddenly it’s too much?
“There’s nothing more to report, my lord. Her body appears to have survived the worst of the trauma and the first operation.”
“Will you be able to operate again to remove the last piece of the knife?”
“We believe so, yes. That’s what I’ve come to ask. She’s stabilized, though still comatose, and we want to schedule another surgery to see if we can’t remove the last bit of the blade.”
“Of course, of course. What are the chances of success?”
“Excellent.”
“What are the chances of her waking once the blade is removed?”
The doctor’s slight hesitation answered her father’s question like a shout and Nikol waited to cringe but didn’t, despite knowing what the words would be. “I’m sorry, my lord. But we just don’t know if she’ll ever wake again. The damage to her spinal cord and the base of her brain was significant. Even if she wakes up . . .”
“We might not want what wakes up.” Elis spoke in a voice as cold as the tiled floor of the room.
“Elis!” Phillip snapped.
Nikol raised her head at Elis’ stark words and the unusual flare of her father’s temper. She was shocked to discover her own thoughts ran along the lines of her sister’s remark.
“What?” Elis continued in that too-calm voice. “Isn’t that what you were going to say, Doctor?”
Nikol’s eyes slowly roved the room, the tense mix of fear, sadness, anger and a half dozen other emotions boiling almost visibly. The doctor, his mouth working to respond, stood frozen, his eyes flickering between Elis, her father and of course their mother sitting calmly in the corner.
“That does not mean—” her father began, only to be cut off by Jessica.
“Phillip,” she said, her voice almost as distant and devoid of emotion as Elis’. As mine? That thought disturbed her more than she cared to admit. Their mother raised her hand to forestall any further comments, then waved it in an offhand manner of dismissal to the doctor, who fled from the room, relief in every rapid movement of retreat.
“She is only stating the obvious, Phillip.”
For the first time in her life, Nikol saw a mild look of anger on her father’s face directed toward his wife before he veiled it. A sick sensation blossomed deep in the pit of her stomach, in a place where she couldn’t imagine further sensation might be born; an acid flavor bloomed at the back of her throat. In the moment that their parents locked eyes, Nikol shared a shocked look with Christopher, and though Elis refused to look in their direction, consternation invaded even her icy façade.
“Janos is dead,” her mother said with a finality that sent a shiver up Nikol’s spine. “And Julietta might as well be dead. Do you really want what might wake up?” Though her mother’s eyes stayed on Phillip’s, her tone and volume suggested the comments were pitched for the entire room. Including yourself, Mother?
Phillip’s shoulders abruptly slumped. He tore his eyes away from his wife, mumbled something under his breath and moved to lean against the wall, eyes staring blankly. The stunning, instantaneous transformation of her father into an old man managed to dent Nikol’s hollowness, though she still felt less than she knew she should have.
“We must face the facts of this. We must face the facts and we must overcome the consequences,” Jessica continued.
“How, Mother?” Christopher said. “They never found the assassin. And so far there are no clues. How do we overcome what we can’t resolve?”
Only the long trip to Terra and the endless lessons at her knee over the last two years enabled Nikol to catch the slight shadow that slid across her mother’s face, even as she responded. “We cannot let their deaths be in vain.”
You avoided the question, Mother. You . . . you know where this came from, don’t you? Or at leastsuspect. Who is responsible for this heinous act? Her mind kicked into overdrive, seizing on this puzzle to solve, rather than facing the endless emptiness.
“But what were they killed for?” Christopher practically shouted as he stood and began pacing, the adult forged over the last year falling away as he reverted for a moment to the impetuous, determined brother Nikol so loved.
“To stop us, my dear. We are trying to reform the Free Worlds League. And there are those who would prevent it . . . at any cost.”
“But who?”
“That is a question for another day. A question that will be answered. But on another day. Today there is a more important question that must be answered.”
“What?”
“We have come far and already sacrificed much. But now we begin to glimpse the level of sacrifice that will be required if we are to truly embrace our destiny. The blood that has been spilt . . . it demands that we forge on. That we take the next logical step.”
Christopher abruptly stopped, face draining of color as he stood staring at his mother. “No,” he whispered.
Their mother brought the full force of her charisma to bear on her family. Even a year ago, despite her knowledge that she was being manipulated, Nikol’s mother’s formidable charisma would have swayed and diverted her mind.
Now, sheathed in the emptiness she felt, Nikol realized Jessica had no power to affect her perceptions. Instead her mind, already seeking answers, sifted through the events, conversations and observations of the past two years, sorting for a pattern. The rest of the room moved in slow motion while she raced from clue to clue to clue, until she arrived at an answer that stunned her to the core and yet left her feeling nothing: it was the most logical response to the situation, after all.
You’ve put yourself in place to take advantage of events. It wasn’t me. It never was me. Or was it, and you’re moving with the flow, taking advantage as needed?
“Yes,” her mother answered, as the room abruptly snapped back into full motion. “If we are to capitalize on what we have accomplished. If we choose to honor the call of your siblings’—my children’s—blood, we must embrace that symbol.”
“No,” her brother responded, voice more strident.
Nikol glanced at her brother, slow surprise notching up her eyebrows. How did you figure it out, brother? Gone so long from Mother’s side, you can’t have seen the signs?
“Yes. There is a marriage proposal that has occupied my desk for long, long months.”
For just a heartbeat, Nikol fought back laughter. In this place, at this time, she knew it beyond impropriety. And yet a girlish squeal bubbled at the back of her throat, as her mother’s eyes bored into her like shafts of azure energy from a PPC. Her mother’s features slowly filled with surprise as Nikol kept her face under control.
You didn’t expect that, did you, Mother? You thought I’d come unglued. You thought I’d immediately be thinking of me. But I’ve learned well from you. The desire to laugh notched up at the bitterness of realizing how successfully her mother had remade Nikol in her image, as the continued emptiness created a void below her feet.
“You cannot mean it,” Christopher snapped.
“Cannot mean what?”
“You know what,” he responded, voice rising in scale and pitch.
Her mother contemplated Christopher—eyes flicking to take in Nikol—in silence before responding. “Yes, I do. And no, I don’t.”
“You’re not going to marry off Nikol to Frederick? “ Elis’ voice interjected.
Nikol giggled then, unable to stop it. Everyone in the room glared at her, confusion, worry and scorn coming from three different directions. You actually didn’t figure it out, did you, Elis? You, of all people. Always with your angles and you missed it? Even Christopher has it figured out. She giggled again.
Her mother finally spoke, verifying Nikol’
s conclusions—and her calm, detached response to the announcement only proved her mother most effective in fashioning her replacement. Pride in her achievement of outpacing her mother warred with the realization that she would never be the same again.
“I have no plans to marry Nikol off to Frederick,” her mother finally responded, voice as distant as a star burning in the endless void, a mirror to Nikol’s own emotions.
“I plan to marry him myself.”
About the Author
Randall N. Bills began his writing career in the adventure gaming industry, where he has worked full-time for the last decade. His hobbies include music, gaming, reading, and, when he can, traveling. He has visited numerous locations both for leisure and for his job, including moving from Phoenix, to Chicago, to Seattle, several trips to Europe, and an LDS mission to Guatemala.
He currently lives in the Pacific Northwest, where he continues to work full-time (and then some) in the adventure gaming industry while pursuing his writing career—Randall has published seven novels and two Star Trek novellas. This is his eighth novel.
He lives with his wife, Tara, and children—Bryn Kevin, Ryana Nikol and Kenyon Aleksandr—as well as an eight-foot red-tailed boa called Jak o’ the Shadows.
Contents
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Prologue 1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
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20
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Epilogue
About the Author
Pandora's Gambit Page 24