Seven Devils

by Laura Lam

  Clo fixed Kyla up a plate and handed it to her. “Legates aren’t supposed to drink.”

  “If you don’t think diplomats aren’t occasionally drunk, raving bastards, you’re more naive than I thought you were.”

  Eris looked over as Kyla grabbed her food and sat across from Ariadne. “What are they saying at Nova?”

  “Zelus’s official records said the ship and its crew were going to Paloma. The team at Nova is still trying to figure out if that’s bullshit or a lead,” Kyla said. “Nothing yet.”

  “And the truce?”

  Ariadne took her own plate. She dipped a fork into the rich, red-brown sauce and brought it to her lips, savoring the flavor. The Oracle thought of food as nutrition and cared little for variety of flavor. Ariadne had drunk the same three meals, at the same time each day, all her life. Kykeon—a boring gruel. No seasoning. No flavor. Enough to survive but not to thrive. The Oracle preferred it because Ariadne could drink kykeon while she coded.

  The first sweets she’d ever had were the ones Rhea had given her when they’d escaped. Ariadne had cried. And then later, she was sick. Rhea had held her in the dona chamber on the ship, soothing her as she shook, hand on the back of her neck. She was still introducing new food slowly over the four days they’d been on Zelus. Her jaw often cramped as the muscles became accustomed to chewing. She’d bitten her tongue more times than she cared to admit. The digestion tablets couldn’t fully erase the discomfort and stomachaches.

  But oh, the flavors. She had no idea what she was eating. But the chunks of meat had a firm texture, so different from the boring gloopy nutrient porridge she’d been raised on her whole life. Her tongue tingled with new sensations. There were little granules through the chunks, and more pieces of something a bit firmer and orange.

  “Ariadne, are you listening?” Kyla asked.

  Ariadne opened her eyes, startled. She shoved down her shame. Though the Oracle was more than aware of human physicality and understood the psychological advantages of food variety, Ariadne’s meals were still kykeon ninety-five percent of the time. The Oracle would give her treats only if she’d truly proven herself.

  The women here might know she’d been raised by the Oracle, but they had no idea—no idea—what that had been like. Even a kid growing up in the slums or on the poorest farm planet usually had some variety in their diet.

  Let them wonder.

  “Sorry,” Ariadne muttered through a mouthful of food. “I’m listening.”

  Kyla stared at her pointedly before addressing the other women. “The Archon does want to make the truce with the Evoli official. There are rumors that Damocles is less keen, but he’s falling into line.”

  There hadn’t been any large-scale skirmishes with the Evoli since the Battle of the Garnet—the most devastating conflict in over fifty years. It was only after the Evoli Oversouls offered the Archon proof they were not involved in Discordia’s death that he finally let up his military campaign against them, deciding it must have been the Novantae who were responsible for his daughter’s crash.

  Damocles had taken Discordia’s place as general—the next Heir Apparent. But it was clear that the Archon had about as much regard for his son as most citizens in the Empire: a grudging acceptance of his claim to the throne.

  Officially, Damocles had a right to sit on the dais. But Ariadne had read the newscasts, listened in on gossip in corners of the palace. Unofficially, even with the Oracle’s programming, many questioned whether he was competent or even a fraction as capable as his sister. In whispers, of course. Everyone wondered if he’d be able to protect them from the Evoli once he took up the robe and double-bladed scythe.

  Now, he might not have to.

  “Of course, the news of this possible truce has not been well received by everyone in the Empire,” Kyla added.

  “No shit,” Eris said. “The Oracle will have to rewrite One’s programming. Even with control over citizens, completely reconfiguring their sentiments toward the Evoli is going to take some time. It might take a new generation of cohorts.”

  Tholosians were taught from birth to believe in conquest, in the superiority of their Empire. The Evoli were a threat that could not be tolerated, and the Tholosians had been at war with them for over five hundred years. Evoli were considered a risk to the Tholosian way of life. Demonized sorcerers. Majoi.

  Ariadne had always wanted to meet one.

  She’d read up on them in the Oracle’s archives. Evoli had populated other planets in the solar system that contained their home planet Eve, but not as conquerors. They didn’t crush other lifeforms—they shared resources.

  Yet with Evoli abilities and technology, they had managed to defend themselves against the Tholosians. Evoli cloaking tech remained a mystery even to the Oracle; the Tholosian Empire could not even find Eve with its reconnaissance ships. They only knew the quadrant—just outside the Karis Galaxy—but each time they neared, their navigation failed and sent them into circles. Skirmishes and battles were confined to the planets on the outer edge of Evoli territory. The Evoli had retreated or been slaughtered but never colonized. Tholosian troops were more numerous, but the Evoli were nimble enough to outsmart them.

  The Oracle always said it was the final civilization to be collected.

  “I believe the rumors,” Rhea said softly. “And I believe the Archon is sincere. After Charon’s asteroid . . .” She shook her head. “Damocles had fierce fights with his father over how to feed the Empire once the food stores go dry. The Archon didn’t want to risk the resources for another costly battle, but Damocles insisted conquering the Evolian planets was the only way our people could survive. The Archon controls the programming, but even the Oracle’s powers can’t flip a switch immediately in an Empire so sprawling. It’s a risk, and one I suspect Damocles doesn’t agree with. Discordia might have chosen differently, but we’ll never know.”

  Ariadne tried to read everyone’s emotions, something difficult for her at the best of times. Eris clenched her jaw and glanced away as if . . . irritated? Clo scowled. Rhea was resigned, perhaps. Nyx was Nyx.

  “Rhea’s probably right.” Clo stabbed at her food. “You don’t end five hundred years of hatred and war by signing a document and just expect everyone to go along with it. I might not have received the upload of the Oracle’s bullshit straight into my brain every day, but we had our share of propaganda in the Snarl. More than half villainized the Evoli. They are a threat to our civilization, our way of life, remember? It’s why even the rebels at Nova are still assholes to Elva and the other Evoli at headquarters.”

  Ariadne sat up straight. So did Rhea. There were Evoli in the resistance? She bit back all the questions she wanted to ask.

  “And now we’re without intel in the Temple,” Kyla said, a flicker of regret in her features.

  Ariadne felt some stirring of discomfort. She had staged this escape during a critical time, when her intel would have mattered most. She would have been in her pallet and its nest of pillows in the Temple, spying for Kyla, making sure Damocles really was on board with the treaty or only pretending.

  “You said earlier that Damocles asked you to guard the cargo?” Kyla asked Nyx.

  Nyx’s back straightened. Ariadne knew she still struggled with the remnants of the Oracle’s programming—the constant refrain that when your superior spoke, you came to attention. Nyx might not be under the Oracle’s control anymore, but those old commands were still a part of her memories.

  “Yep,” Nyx said. “Along with two dozen other royal soldiers. And before you ask whether the Archon knew, he’s been busy evaluating the damage on Charon, so my best guess is no.”

  Clo looked doubtful. “If Damocles were planning something behind his father’s back, wouldn’t the Oracle alert the Archon?”

  “Oh.” Ariadne breathed it softly, but everyone still turned to her. She ignored them for a mome
nt, thinking back on her commands from the Oracle in recent months. Every. Single. One. “In the Temple,” she finally said, “the Oracle and I have processed requests directly from General Damocles for a while.” She looked at the others helplessly. “I’m sorry; I was so distracted planning our escape without the Oracle’s knowledge—which was not easy, I might add—that I didn’t even notice right away that Damocles had taken over the Oracle’s commands. I just . . .”

  She bit her lip. It had been so hard. Rhea had no programming and Nyx had mostly broken through hers, but they’d had to slip through microscopic cracks in surveillance. Ariadne had to send bogus commands and hope—hopeprayhope—the Oracle didn’t notice.

  Obsolete. Forgetful. Inattentive.

  One would have punished her over such a stupid mistake.

  “Damocles has taken over the Oracle’s commands from the Archon?” Kyla asked, gaze sharp. “How much?”

  “Perhaps ten percent. Maybe more. I should have . . .” She trailed off.

  “You were barely sleeping,” Rhea said, clearly rattled, though her voice stayed gentle.

  Didn’t matter. It was a detail Ariadne should have caught.

  Kyla was all business again. “Then we need to know more about this cargo so I have a solid answer on what it’ll be used for. If Damocles is planning a coup, I want intel. Eris, there’s an engineer on Macella who can be manipulated to give us more information on the shipment with the right push. We’ve used him before.”

  “Used?” Eris scowled. “Like sex used?”

  Kyla pressed her lips together. “That’s one way. He’s also responded to patriotism, threats, and bribery. Choose a button and push it. It’s your choice.”

  “Hmm.” Eris considered her options.

  “It won’t be easy,” Kyla continued. “We need to infiltrate the royal palace, find out whatever this rock is—”

  “Josephine,” Ariadne corrected helpfully. “She might be used to create a high-density blast or a pretty armor material.”

  Kyla pressed her lips together. “Fine. Assume that. We need to know what plot it’s connected to. Gods help us if it’s a fucking coup, because Damocles isn’t exactly known for showing mercy.”

  Ariadne put the dishes in the cleaner, needing to stay busy. Kyla still hadn’t said if the Novantae were actually going to let them stay, if they were going to have a new life out from under the shadow of the Empire. Prove your usefulness. Prove your efficiency. Prove you’re not just a waste of time and—

  Eris clicked her tongue against her teeth. “The palaces on Tholos, Macella, and Agora have spies, don’t they? I helped—” At Kyla’s guarded expression, Eris broke off. “What’s that look? What haven’t you told us?”

  “We believe our operatives within the Three Sisters are dead,” Kyla said shortly. “They’ve been going dark one by one for months. The most recent was just after this shipment.”

  Eris froze. “But how—”

  “I don’t know, Eris.”

  Ariadne flinched. She hated it when people yelled. The Oracle, for all of One’s faults, never yelled. One was cold, with decisions often brutally practical. The Oracle had always stated outbursts were a weakness, yet another flaw within humans that clouded their ability to think, to make decisions.

  They can’t control themselves, Ariadne, the echo of the Oracle whispered in her mind. What would they do to you, dear girl? You’re so small, so frail. You can’t program the weakness out of them, no matter how clever the code.

  A gentle touch on her arm. Rhea, of course, offering wordless comfort. Ariadne held on to her hand like a lifeline.

  “Don’t you dare snap at me, Kyla,” Eris said, jaw tight. When Kyla opened her mouth, Eris interrupted. “And yes, I know that I am being deeply insubordinate. You and Sher sent me and Clo on a mission knowing your spies were likely being compromised and executed. That the same might have happened to us. And you didn’t even bother to mention it.”

  Down the table, Clo crossed her arms and glared. “Now, that is a good point.”

  Kyla raised her chin. “ITI mission. You knew the risks and you both agreed. I didn’t feel you needed to be aware of the other details.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Guilt flickered in Kyla’s features, but she said nothing.

  “I knew a spy in the Three Sisters,” Rhea said, quietly. “Are they all dead?”

  Kyla didn’t need to say anything. Rhea’s head fell. Nyx made the hand gesture to the God of Death and whispered a prayer.

  “Juno,” Rhea said, almost a moan.

  Ariadne’s gaze snapped up. Juno was one of the Archon’s most favored courtesans. The Madam of the Pleasure Garden.

  Ariadne had never met Juno, but she knew the Madam helped protect Rhea. If she had been discovered, she’d have been tortured. Unless she killed herself first. Ariadne wrapped her arms around herself.

  Kyla heaved a sigh. “Look, Eris, Clo, feel free to be mad at me. But I am in the middle of a shitstorm and fresh out of spies. The records room on Macella is where the Archon keeps the most comprehensive logs on shipments, and we need to access it for information on Zelus’s cargo and what they plan to do with it. Would any of you happen to know how we can get in?” Her gaze shifted from Nyx to Ariadne and Rhea.

  Nyx laughed. “Yeah, I’ve been to Macella. Drank with a few of the recordkeepers at the palace there. Let me break it down for you. The way to Records is a maze. The Oracle uses shifting digital projections in the rooms so the way in never looks the same.”

  Ariadne plastered a falsely cheerful grin on her face. “I did help design those.” Prove your usefulness. Prove your efficiency.

  Nyx glared at her before continuing. “To say nothing of the heat sensors. If you trigger the lasers, the guards will be on your ass in two seconds flat.”

  “I can disable those,” Ariadne whispered.

  “—and if you approach the door,” Nyx said, her voice rising, “and it scans you and if you don’t have the correct height, weight, body type, and retinal scan of someone with clearance, it releases an airborne toxin that leads to your painful demise in under five seconds.”

  Ariadne winced. “I helped design that, too.” Prove your worth.

  Nyx side-eyed her. “And then you’d have to weave through laser grids, which are based on Ariadne’s movements.” She put up her hand when Ariadne opened her mouth to say something. “I’m done stroking your ego, kid. Let me finish. Say you find the intel you need and get out of Macella without being pierced with several lasers. The source of these rocks will likely be another secure location. If you destroy it, is there more? You have to find out. It’s a great game, except we’re all fucking losers. Good luck.”

  Kyla’s eyes narrowed. Ariadne’s nerves coiled in her stomach. She might not have seen Kyla’s face before today, but from the communications when Ariadne sent intel, she knew the commander well enough to sense when she had a plan. Ariadne had a feeling she wouldn’t like it. Kyla gave a slow, vicious smile.

  Uh-oh, Ariadne thought.

  “Congratulations,” Kyla said, “all three of you have the job. You’ll be joining Eris and Clo in infiltrating the palace on Macella.”

  Ariadne’s mouth fell open. Rhea went pale. Only Nyx looked as inscrutable as ever.

  The Oracle knew she had escaped by now. But she wouldn’t suspect Ariadne would still remember how to move through some of the systems.

  It had been years since she designed that grid. Ariadne’s muscles twitched, but she still remembered just how to duck and flip, how the laser grid moved. Even if the Oracle changed the order and configuration, Ariadne’s reflexes were sharp. It was a perfect puzzle. A game for a little girl who had no one to play with but death and an AI who claimed to love her but didn’t know the meaning of the word.

  Nyx gave something like a cough. “Sorry, I just had a horrible waking ni
ghtmare where you told us to infiltrate the Empire we just escaped from. Come again?”

  Kyla kept that reptilian smile as she reached into her pocket and brought out three Pathos. Ariadne and her friends stared at those small, needle-like brain implants like they were weapons. “You’ll be needing these.”

  Ariadne reached for them. Nyx smacked her hand aside. “Don’t even think about it. We’re not going. We only just broke free.”

  Rhea nodded. “We gave you more than enough to deserve being sent somewhere safe.” Her voice was as polite as usual, but there was an edge to it. A blade hidden beneath the silk and finery. “That was our bargain. Information. Not this.”

  Kyla’s smile disappeared, replaced with steely annoyance. “I don’t recall bargaining with any of you. And I thought you wanted to help the resistance topple the Empire. You came to us. This is how you resist.”

  “It has to be a choice.” Nyx glowered. “Otherwise, you use people just like the Empire does. We’re nothing but tools.”

  Something flickered in Kyla’s gaze. “If you complete this mission, you’ll get your new identities. I’ll send you somewhere safe. Call it what you want, but that’s my offer.”

  “That’s not an offer,” Eris snapped. “And you know it.”

  Clo made some placating motion. “Aside from the issues Nyx pointed out, I’ve never even been near the Three Sisters. I’ve never had an Oracle implant—”

  “We don’t have a choice,” Kyla snapped. “This cargo showed up just as the Archon declared a peace summit? Then we need to know if Damocles is planning to overthrow him, and I can’t do that when my best fucking spies have been compromised.” Her voice softened a fraction. “I am offering you three a choice; I never said it was a good one. I know it’s a risk. You have to decide whether it’s worth it.”

  Eris’s face was back to stone. Ariadne was deadly curious. What had made Eris join the resistance? What had she fled on those cursed three planets?