by Robyn Bachar
“To ‘neutralize a populace’, as they term it in the files. The virus would destroy a planet’s inhabitants without damaging the infrastructure like a drawn-out war would. Once news of the disease and its effects reaches other Alliance worlds, the simple threat of release would be enough to frighten people into surrender.”
“How does this relate to House Nightfall?” Jace asked.
Lord Najamek grimaced. “It isn’t entirely clear from this data, but I have some suspicions. These records relate to the research and development of the weapon. The first stages of the research were conducted on Nepheros. Lord Bildanen and several of his advisors are copied on communiqués regarding its development, but we don’t have records of how they were involved, or why. I suspect…” He trailed off. The lord ran a hand through his hair, and the gesture reminded Bryn of Jace when he was frustrated.
“This is part of a plan to gain control of the council,” Jace guessed, and Najamek nodded.
“Yes. I have known Lord Bildanen for years. He supported the peace accords and Cy’ren independence not because he believed in them, but because as other houses weakened, he seized the opportunity to make his house stronger. The strongest. He protected the Eppes, and used the resistance to take out the Eppes’s competition for them.”
Captain Hawke scowled. “So, together the Eppes and House Nightfall are in a position to control the Syndicate systems, and any Alliance worlds they can bully into submission.”
Bryn shivered as her stomach stopped, dropped and rolled with nausea. If House Nightfall returned Cyprena to Syndicate control, then the Cy’ren slave trade would return at full throttle. Jace reached over, took her hand and squeezed it, and they exchanged a heavy look. Malcolm began coughing, and helped himself to a glass of water. Poor thing. He had to dread a return to being a slave as much as Bryn did.
“The council needs to know of this,” Lord Degalen said.
“The Alliance needs to know of this,” Captain Hawke argued. “They may not have broken the encryption yet on the Lazarus data. We have to warn them.”
“Is there a cure?” Bryn asked.
“There is mention of a cure,” Lord Najamek said, “but the data wasn’t in the Becklav files. It appears to be manufactured in another facility, along with the vaccine and the virus itself.”
Lord Degalen turned to Malcolm. “Could you locate information on the cure?”
“Maybe.” He frowned, his hands shaking where they clutched his glass of water. “If I had access to the Collective, but without it…”
“We will see what we can do about that. In the meantime, we need to bring this information before the council. House Nightfall must answer for this,” Degalen said.
Bryn silently agreed, and prayed that the other lords would see reason, though a cynical part of her heart doubted it. The lords didn’t know what it was like to be a slave. Most of them were probably like Wylarric, ready to shed the blood of their own kin in order to protect their power. Wylarric had already sent Jace three updated versions of his “inheritance agreement” since they arrived on Cyprena, each with a new loophole designed to screw Jace out of something important. One more update and Bryn was going to shove a data pad up Wylarric’s ass.
“I’ll contact the Alliance, you arrange the high council meeting,” Captain Hawke said. “And let’s all pray that we can stop the virus before it spreads any farther.”
Chapter Twenty
Bryn never expected to attend a high council meeting. As a lesser house, the Wintersends weren’t invited to participate, and her duties as a shadow sword had never been so lofty as to involve high council politics. Now, as the mate and shathlinn of the Second Son of House Morningstar—Wylarric’s latest request to disinherit Jace had been ignored in favor of concentrating on more important information—Bryn found herself part of the meeting that had been convened to condemn House Nightfall and its involvement with the Eppes group. It made Bryn miss being unimportant, but considering the poisonous tension in the room, she wouldn’t have trusted Jace’s safety to anyone else. At least Sabine was safe in the Morningstar manor, guarded by most of the Morningstar shadow swords and half of the Sunsingers’ as well.
Malcolm was shaking like a leaf, and Bryn was worried that he would faint at any moment. He was a witness in the accusations against House Nightfall, though she hoped he wouldn’t have to testify, because he was scared enough as it was. Bryn settled on being silently irritated at the whole thing. The lords of the twelve ruling houses of Cyprena were all males who had never been slaves. They had never fought for the resistance, never known hunger or hardship, and yet they somehow knew what was best for their people.
“I call for House Nightfall’s immediate removal from the high council,” Lord Najamek said, going directly for the throat like a true Cy’ren. The other lords and their entourages recoiled as though struck.
“On what grounds?” Lord Bildanen Rathe, the head of House Nightfall, asked with a cool sneer. The man seemed to have expressions of derision down to a science. Bryn wondered if he practiced scowling, or if he’d simply been born that way.
Lord Najamek stared him down. “House Nightfall continued the ownership and sale of slaves on Nepheros after the accords were signed. In conjunction with the Eppes slaver group, they attempted to erase all evidence of their partnership by systematically destroying not only the records, but the record keepers. Hundreds of innocent lives were taken in that process. Now we have evidence that House Nightfall aided in the development of a bioweapon with the intention of using it against the Alliance. House Nightfall would drag Cyprena into war.”
“No. Everything House Nightfall has done is for our people’s benefit. The peace accord was meant to usher in a new era of Cy’ren prosperity, but what has this independence brought us?” Bildanen spat the word like a sour expletive. “Slavery was ever a tradition of our people, even before we began off-world trade. Selling our weak made us strong. Now our cities are clogged with lazy, shiftless freed citizens who expect us to house and feed them with nothing as payment. Our soldiers risk their lives every day to rescue these people, and what good have they done Cyprena? At least when they were slaves in the Syndicate they had purpose.”
A few of Nightfall’s allies nodded in silent agreement, and Bryn snarled, furious. Sanctimonious bastards.
“How dare you!” she snapped. “You don’t know a damn thing about what it’s like to live as a slave. None of you do.”
“Lord Najamek, control your second son’s mate,” Lord Bildanen said.
Jace’s father shot Bryn a look pleading for her silence, but she rose and glared at the lords of the high council.
“Cy’ren are not resources to be bought and sold at the market,” she said. “These are our brothers and sisters. How dare you accuse returnees of laziness. Most of them have spent their entire lives suffering under their masters’ rule.”
“Because they are weak-minded, like cattle,” Lord Bildanen said.
“You are out of order,” Lord Degalen shouted. He leapt to his feet in outrage. “My mother was forced into slavery by this very council—”
“And obviously she did as well as a whore as she did as a mate, considering that you have another surprise sister.” Lord Bildanen sneered at the younger lord, and Degalen flushed purple with fury.
“I demand an apology,” Degalen said.
“You are in a position to demand nothing. Your weakness has poisoned this council long enough. You whine and snivel about rights and freedom, but nothing has hurt the Cy’ren more than this ridiculous independence. Your father, at least, understood that it was the slave trade that made our world strong. But you and your allies have made us puppets of the Alliance, and what have they given us aside from castoff officers to deliver us more mouths to feed? The Alliance barks orders as demanding as any slave owner, and we gain nothing from it. This nonsense ends today.”
&nb
sp; Still on her feet, Bryn spotted the danger while the rest of the council concentrated on shouting each other down. Several armored figures filed into the room through the Nightfall entrance—each house had its own entrance into the high council chamber, in order to show equality between the houses. The soldiers—mercs?—raised their weapons, and Bryn dove forward, grabbed Lord Degalen with one hand and Lord Najamek with the other and hauled them down behind the table. A moment later a barrage of rifle fire ended the arguments. Bryn twisted and spotted Jace ducking for cover, but Wylarric was too slow, and he crumpled as a laser bolt burned through his head.
Captain Hawke crouched beside Bryn. “Viera, Harrow, take Malcolm and Najamek. Dack and I have Galen.”
“Aye, Captain,” Bryn replied. She drew her pistol and steadied Lord Najamek. Laser bolts buzzed overhead, and Bryn winced. “My lord, stay behind me and keep your head down at all times.”
“But, Wylarric…” Lord Najamek checked for his son’s pulse, but Bryn knew there was no way he could have survived a hit like that.
“He’s gone, my lord. Jace?”
“I’ll cover you. On three,” Jace ordered.
He counted it down, and they moved. Bryn fell in step with Captain Hawke as Jace and Dack laid down covering fire. A shot caught her in the shoulder, but her armor took the brunt of it and she shrugged it off. Good thing they’d all dressed for protection instead of fashion. The group reached the Morningstar door, but it was locked.
“Jace, hack it,” the captain barked.
“Yes sir.”
Bryn focused on the room, alert for targets. Chaos filled the council chamber. The air was thick with the smells of blood and burned flesh, and it was difficult to hear through the screams of terror and the report of weaponsfire. Half of the ruling lords were dead or wounded, and Lord Bildanen was nowhere in sight. Frightened aides and heirs attempted to flee, and many were cut down before getting far.
Jace cursed as sparks showered from the locking panel, and Malcolm shoved him aside. “I’ve got it,” the indexer said. Bryn was proud of his show of confidence, but congratulations would have to wait until they were out of danger.
Malcolm whooped in triumph as the door slid open. It was a small victory, but it was a long way to the landing pad where the Talon II was docked.
“Move out!” Captain Hawke ordered.
A bolt zinged past Bryn, and she heard a cry of pain. She glanced to the side, and for a horrified moment she thought Jace had been hit, but then Lord Najamek crumpled.
“No,” Jace said, the word a sob. He grabbed his father and hauled him out of the line of fire. Lord Najamek groaned, clutching at his chest, but Bryn spied the dark shine of light armor beneath his tunic. Clever. The wound was serious, but the armor may have saved his life, if they could get him to the ship’s doctor quickly.
Bryn covered them as they moved down the corridor, and hoped that they all survived to see the ship again.
“Status report, Sam,” Captain Hawke said as they reached the bridge.
“Engines are hot and ready to go, Captain,” Sam replied. “We’ve taken minor damage from ground forces, but the big question will be how we’re going to make it to the surface.” This particular meeting had been held in House Stormbreaker’s territory—meetings rotated between each of the ruling houses, and the Stormbreakers had long been allies of House Nightfall.
“Viera, take weapons. Rizzoli, get us in the air.”
Bryn scanned the console’s display as she powered the ship’s weapons and shields. Several targets blipped on the screen, and Bryn scowled. “They scrambled their fighters.”
The captain cursed. “How many?”
“Twelve. Three incoming. The rest are headed for the Raptor and the Liberty.” Both were ships with captains sympathetic to House Sunsinger and Morningstar, allies that the Talon II could scarcely afford to lose right now.
“They can take care of themselves. Fire when the fighters are in range.”
“Yes sir,” Bryn replied.
“Malcolm, can you deactivate the defenses along the tunnel?” Captain Hawke asked.
“We haven’t tested the interface yet,” he protested. The captain had an uplink terminal installed in her ready room in the hope that Malcolm could help them locate the Lazarus cure.
“No time like the present. Viera, go with them. I’m on weapons.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Bryn grabbed Malcolm and Lord Degalen and ushered them into the ready room. Malcolm’s hands trembled as he settled into the chair and the data screens glowed to life. As the lord took his place, preparing to monitor Malcolm, Bryn sat by the indexer’s side and held his hands.
“Wait. Close your eyes and take deep breaths,” she advised.
Malcolm swallowed hard. “I don’t know if I can do this. I’ve never done anything like this.”
“You can. You will. I believe in you,” she said. Bryn glanced at Lord Degalen. “He believes in you. Now take a deep breath before you plug in, and you’ll do fine.”
Malcolm nodded, closed his eyes, and then connected the data jack. Bryn patted Malcolm’s shoulder, and then joined Lord Degalen at the handler’s terminal. From the frantic line jumping across the cardiac monitor, she knew that Malcolm was dangerously under stress, but weren’t they all?
“Accessing Stormbreaker defense network,” Malcolm said. “It will take me a few moments to crack their firewalls.”
“Understood. Try to breathe evenly, Malcolm,” Lord Degalen intoned. “Your respiration rate is too fast.”
“Alexi used to distract me by…never mind.” Malcolm cleared his throat, his face flushed with embarrassment.
Bryn smirked. “I’d offer to give you a blowjob, but Jace would skin us both.”
His lordship coughed, as though he’d accidentally inhaled a mouthful of wine. Bryn folded her hands in front of her to stop the urge to clap him on the back. The deck shuddered as cannon fire hit the ship. The final moments of the Sabre flashed before her with the nightmarish memories of heat blistering her skin and acrid smoke filling her nostrils. At least there would be no survivors this time, no one to sell into slavery. Lord Bildanen meant to kill them all.
“I’m in. Hacking their defenses now.”
Bryn bit her lip until it bled. The ship shuddered again, and Bryn and Degalen braced themselves against the terminal. He scowled, “He’ll go into an arrest if he keeps this up.”
“We’ll all be dead if he doesn’t,” she muttered in reply.
Malcolm’s fingers blurred as he tapped the screens around him. “Almost there…got it!”
He whooped in triumph just as a booming crash threw them to the floor. The lights flickered and died, plunging the ready room into terrifying darkness for the longest moment of Bryn’s life, but then the power came back up.
Lord Degalen stumbled to Malcolm’s side. The indexer wasn’t moving, and Degalen placed a hand against his throat, feeling for a pulse. Malcolm twitched and then pulled Degalen to him and kissed him soundly.
“That was awesome,” Malcolm declared, grinning. The Cy’ren lord gazed at him, his red eyes wide with shock.
“Are the defenses down?” Bryn asked, and Malcolm nodded. “Good work. I’ll let the captain know.” She hightailed it back to the bridge to relay the information, deciding she’d have a talk with Malcolm on the proper behavior in a lord’s presence later.
“We’re clear,” Bryn announced.
“Thank God,” Captain Hawke said. “Take weapons. We’ve still got two fighters on us. Rizzoli, get us to the surface.”
“Yes sir. Better hold on, this won’t be pretty,” Rizzoli warned.
“Viera, contact the Raptor and Liberty, let them know it’s safe to proceed.”
Bryn frowned at the screen. “The Raptor is down, Captain.”
Captain Hawke hung her head, but th
ere was no time for mourning as the deck shimmied beneath them. Bryn grabbed the console with one hand and fired on the trailing Stormbreaker fighters. They were small and fast, but she managed to clip one. It wobbled but kept coming. She sent a quick message to the Liberty, and then focused on the fighters.
The Talon II veered into the tunnel to the surface, and thanks to Malcolm’s good work they weren’t immediately blown to pieces. The fighters trailed them, and then the Liberty zoomed next. They finished off the fighter Bryn had just clipped, and she made a note to buy their gunner a drink.
“One fighter left,” Bryn announced. “Two more are pursuing the Liberty.”
“Then we’d better get our asses out of here. Rizzoli?” the captain asked.
“Thirty seconds to the surface.”
Bryn’s fingers twitched as she waited for a target lock. In these close confines, she could easily hit the Liberty if she wasn’t careful, or fry them all if she hit one of the cannons lining the tunnel. The fighter didn’t seem concerned, and raked the Talon II with its lasers.
“Major damage to aft shields. VFF drive is down,” Sam said.
“Good thing we don’t need it,” Captain Hawke muttered.
The targeting lock lit up, but Bryn waited. If she hit the fighter now, its wreckage would crash into the Liberty. “Rizzoli, give me a countdown when we’re at ten seconds out,” she ordered.
“Aye, Lieutenant.” The navigator began counting down, and at two seconds Bryn fired. The fighter exploded a moment after the Talon II sailed out of the tunnel, and the Liberty followed, a little singed but no worse for the wear. Bryn grinned, but her joy soured as the scanner lit up.
“Captain, reading enemy ships in orbit,” she said.
“Comm. the Liberty,” Hawke said. “The Morningstar enclave is closest, we’ll go to ground there. Invite them to join us, and find out if they managed to evac any members of the council. Send an alert to our allies to go into immediate lockdown before any of those ships pay them a visit. And get Jace to the bridge. We’re going to need him to sweet-talk Morningstar control.”