Exile's Throne

by Rhonda Mason

  Tia’tan held out her hand and wobbled it side to side. “They’re… still in discussions.”

  “She was being very politic about it,” Vayne said, and Hekkar’s eyes bugged.

  “That was Natali being politic?”

  Vayne gave him a strange look, like he couldn’t tell if the agent was kidding or not. “You didn’t think so?”

  Hekkar cleared his throat awkwardly, and Kayla decided to take pity on him by changing the subject.

  “What about the stepa at es?”

  “Which ones?” Vayne asked.

  Fair point. They had entirely too many unknowns running around loose on the ship, rooks included. “Officer Kendrik and the others?” Tia’tan made it a point to discuss the changing codes with Tanet every morning, offering to help remember his, which allowed them access to the prisoners. Thankfully, because there was no way Vayne would violate Tanet’s mental shields again to read his mind.

  “I visited them this morning,” Toble said. “It’s been less than a day since Vayne swapped out the calorie pack, so I didn’t notice any improvement yet. I have them on a taper, stepping down the dose of sedatives they receive at a gradual pace. There’s no telling how long they’ve been on such a high dose. We have to manage their withdrawal carefully. We should start seeing an increase in their alertness and cognitive function soon.” He frowned. “They need real medical care for the brain damage they’ve received—it can’t wait.”

  “We can’t leave them there,” Vayne said. “Nobody should be kept prisoner.”

  She heard her brother’s unspoken, like I was. She sympathized with him, and knew seeing Kendrik and the others like that only reminded him of his own captivity, but Kayla wasn’t about to let more people into the general mix if she wasn’t certain that it was the right thing to do.

  She looked at Tia’tan. “Have you had any luck locating the ship’s first officer, or other crew members?”

  Tia’tan shook her head. “None. We’ve been through all the powered sections. There are no souls to be found, and no shielded psionic dead spots.” She tapped her fingers on the tabletop. “I’m starting to think Kendrik really is crazy, and Zimmerman is long dead.”

  “What about the unpowered levels?” Everyone turned to look at Hekkar as soon as he asked the question.

  Vayne started to reply but Kayla kicked him under the table. He clearly had a nasty remark to make about Hekkar’s intelligence, and she found it much more satisfying to cut him off than to argue about his attitude toward imperials.

  “We know they’re not living full time in EMUs,” Tia’tan said, rolling with it. “But that doesn’t mean they couldn’t spend most of their time on one of the lower levels, coming back to the powered section to eat and change out of EMUs every so often.”

  “That sounds like a shitty way to live,” Kayla said.

  Hekkar shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. What if one of the levels, or even a section of a level that we think is damaged, actually has power and life support? Think about it.” He leaned forward, elbows on the table, working his hypothesis out as he spoke. “We all believe the lower levels are damaged or have compromised power relays because Ida told us that, right?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “And we can see the evidence on the ship’s diagnostic,” Toble pointed out.

  “Right,” Hekkar said, “the same diagnostic that shows us that Kendrik’s level has no power.” He let that sink in a moment. “I’ve been to a lot of the lower levels and they are definitely without power. But what if one level only seems like it has no power? Zimmerman, or whoever it was, had enough savvy and tech intelligence to wake crew members from cryosleep without Ida and her crew realizing it. What if they’re hiding this, also?”

  “And before now,” Tia’tan said, “the captain had no reason to think they were capable of such a thing.”

  ::Or that’s what she claimed, at least.:: Vayne’s mental voice had the same skepticism Kayla was beginning to feel when it came to the captain. She couldn’t put her finger on any one thing, but…

  ::Same. She’s certainly close-mouthed when it comes to the topic of her missing crew.::

  And why they’re missing in the first place, if they’re not all insane.

  Kayla thought about Hekkar’s theory. “Seems at least possible.” More than possible. If it really was just a matter of walking around the powered sections with the psionic senses spread wide, Ida would have found the stepa long before now. “We’ve only been hitting the closed levels strategically, stopping at weapons depots and food stores—by no means searching the entire deck. If they hid in another part of the level, a small part, they could close the blast doors to that section and have their own environment.”

  Vayne looked skeptical. “That would have to be pretty lucky, them choosing a spot to hide that we never had reason to go near.”

  “What if they had help?” It was starting to seem more and more likely that they did. But from who? And more importantly, was that good or bad for Kayla and her il’haars?

  “At this point,” Tia’tan said, “we have nothing to lose by searching.”

  “We’ll have plenty of time,” Hekkar replied. “Ship’s manifest shows that we’ve gotten all the food stores from the lower levels. Unless there’s a different commodity that we should be collecting in bulk, we’re out of work.”

  Vayne drawled, “You might as well go back home, then.”

  Too little, too late, but Kayla kicked his shin again for good measure.

  “You do know that’s not going to happen, right?” Hekkar asked. “At some point, you’re just going to have to accept that we’re here to help… and here to stay.”

  Kayla waited for Vayne’s reply, not sure how well the direct approach was going to go over. He surprised her by simply shrugging. “We’ll see.”

  “On a different topic,” Tia’tan said, clearly not willing to let that exchange continue, “at what point do we bring all of this to Natali?”

  Uneasy looks all around. Kayla disliked keeping secrets from her sister. Natali was her leader, after all, and a great ally. However, she was also completely autocratic—once Natali knew what was going on, Kayla and the others lost control of how to handle the situation. Natali might be inclined to take their advice… but then again, she might not be.

  “Let’s wait a little bit,” Kayla finally said, trying not to feel like a traitor.

  * * *

  VANKIR CITY, ORDOCH

  Malkor and Rigger spent the day touring the city. They did all sorts of things people of leisure did, such as checking the security measures at the armory—moderate, could be breached by a large group with adequate tactical support—running a tally on the various weaponry soldiers were equipped with on the city streets and on guard duty—ion pistols, blasters, and pulse rifles mostly, standard army fare with no plasma weapons in sight—counting assault vehicles—not many on the ground in the city, but they had the air space on lockdown— and even taking a transport to the outskirts of the city where the hydroelectric plant that supplied the bulk of the city’s energy was working away—the plant was more of a fortress than the prison itself; there was no way a rebel incursion could take that over without heavy casualties.

  Which was why they also visited the energy distribution center and took note of the location of the major transformer blocks.

  Much easier to cripple or take control of Vankir’s microgrid than destroy its power-generating capabilities for years to come, especially considering that they were hoping to retake the planet a lot sooner than that.

  The sun was setting by the time they headed back to the barracks.

  “I know the empire managed to take out Ordoch’s entire state-run linkhub and set up their own,” Malkor said as they walked. “Would the rebels be able to crash the new imperial linkhub?”

  Rigger slowed a fraction to give more distance between them and a group of soldiers ahead before continuing. Luckily, the Wyrds on the streets gave them
a wide berth. “Access to the linkhub and its code are the empire’s best-guarded secret, according to Ygreda. I tell you, that cyber-attack five years ago was the single most brilliant move of the entire coup. Imperial hackers will be feeding off the glory of that hack for decades.” She sounded a little wistful.

  “Score one for the empire for putting our best criminals to work.”

  Rigger agreed. “Cyber-attacks were largely a thing of the past on Ordoch, so for once the empire was ahead, technologically speaking. The rebels just haven’t caught up. It took time for the Wyrds to even get to grips with the idea of an occupation after the coup. Even longer still for there to be any concerted effort or organization of a rebellion. With little access to information or communications systems, it was damn near impossible for the rebels to get their shit together.” She sighed. “I wish I’d been here years ago; I could have gotten them up and running with a darkhub much quicker than they did on their own.”

  He clapped her on the back. “Don’t worry, you’re still a legend to me.”

  “Yeah, I’d be famous… if all our missions weren’t classified.” She winked. Lights around the city came on as dusk settled. Their barracks came into view, bustling with soldiers during the post-shift, pre-carousing hour. “Come on,” she said, “I’m sure you owe me a drink for some feat of tech genius or other.”

  He laughed. “Probably more than one.”

  Whether by accident or design, the guard had assigned Malkor and Rigger to the rowdy barracks. As the out-of-town “guests,” they’d been treated to an honorary bar crawl. It seemed there was no shortage of ramshackle imperial bars to patronize, and the soldiers had a tab going at all of them. If the drinks were shit, at least the company was convivial.

  There wasn’t much else for an invading army to do with their evening, really.

  As the enlisted soldiers got completely bombed, Malkor and Rigger followed First Sergeant Toomalia Huds, Tooms to her friends, to a quieter establishment frequented by officers. It reminded Malkor of the time he and Hekkar had tracked down Carsov—the TNV specialists that broke Kayla out of the containment foam after TNV was released at Isonde’s first attempted wedding—at an army bar. This time, however, the music didn’t screech to a halt when they walked in, and no one sent them looks that said kindly drop dead.

  Being incognito was a good thing, tonight.

  It was easy to see that the Wyrd-run “bar” had been a cocktail lounge prior to the occupation. Various nooks for seated and standing conversation between small groups offered privacy while still giving the place an inclusive feel. The decor was probably edgy by Ordochian standards. Malkor merely found it tasteful and not overly obnoxious.

  Of course, the imperials had classed down the joint, bringing in table games, loud music, and that perennial favorite: darts.

  “Drinks are on us,” Malkor said to Tooms.

  She clapped him on the back and gave them a smile. “I knew I liked you guys. Come on, I’ll introduce you around.”

  The bar served Ordochian instead of imperial liquors, which was a damn shame because they were delicious, and he and Rigger had too big of a day planned tomorrow to really enjoy them. Tooms introduced them to several staff officers who held various positions within the Complex of Oligarchs. Tooms got ragged on for being low man on the totem pole, but she shut them up handily after beating all comers at darts, even Rigger. The atmosphere was very genial and good natured. They were something of superstars, coming—supposedly—from Senfranco Base.

  Thank the stars Base Commander Chen had brought him up to speed on the trials and tribulations of living in a tropical paradise.

  “You know, we kind of hate you, right?” one of the officers said, after Malkor gave an enthusiastic tale about surfing at sunrise. Rigger ordered drinks all around, again, after that.

  It was actually fun… too much fun. As the camaraderie continued into the night, Malkor felt less and less comfortable in his borrowed uniform. In another life, he might have been friends with these people, Tooms especially. Instead, he was their enemy, using their willing friendship to steal secrets from them like the lowest kind of thief.

  He was a traitor.

  There. He’d finally acknowledged it. It wasn’t just that Vega had branded him a traitor to the empire when she blamed her crimes on him and his octet. Deep down, in his heart, he was betraying the empire, using the skills they’d taught him. He was here to aid their greatest enemy, and undermine all these soldiers’ hard work, day in and day out.

  He looked at the faces of the officers gathered around the table, drinks in hand, laughing and swapping stories. If he had to, if it came right down to it in this very moment, would he kill these people for the cause of Ordoch’s freedom?

  Could he?

  Shit. What the frutt had he gotten himself into, gotten the octet into?

  Joining the rebellion was a lot easier in the abstract. Here in the concrete world, it really sucked. The look in her eyes as the evening wore on showed that Rigger felt the same.

  “Did you hear the new head of the occupation is an IDC commander?” Tooms asked. “Can you frutting believe it?”

  “Who frutted who to make that happen?”

  “I saw that on the news vids this morning; no way that’s real.”

  Malkor still couldn’t believe it had happened, that Vega had mind-controlled her way to the head of what was purely an army operation.

  “Frutting IDC,” Rigger added to the conversation. “Gotta get their nose into everything.”

  “I’m telling you, it’s not possible. The general wouldn’t even piss on an IDC agent if they were on fire.”

  “I hear the Council of Seven intervened to make it happen.”

  That brought out a loud list of reasons why the council had failed the empire.

  Tooms pounded the table to get their attention. “It’s true about the IDC commander, Evie saw her.”

  Heads swiveled in unison until everyone was staring at the petite woman who drank sparingly and said even less. Tooms egged her on with an elbow. “Tell ’em, Evie.”

  “Gee thanks, Tooms.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine, I saw her, she’s here already.”

  What? Not possible. Isonde and Ardin hadn’t even arrived yet, and they were flying in the fastest ship the IDC had. They hadn’t even started discussions with Ordoch to revisit the idea of formulating a cure for the TNV.

  “Evie’s a staff sergeant for Base Commander Aretes,” Tooms said as an aside, which meant Evie was exactly the person Malkor wanted to talk to. She was in a positon to see and hear the highest-level communications about the occupation.

  “She’s a real piece of work,” Evie said. “First, she arrives in a fancy new stealth ship, parks it right on the lawn of the Reinumon palace. Then she marches straight off the bird and into Commander Aretes’s office without a word to anyone. Like she already owned the place.”

  Apparently the army has something faster. Shit.

  “I saw that,” a guy named Heron said. “I was on watch at the time.”

  “She walks right in while we’re planning the resupply of the outpost on Tera and orders everyone out.” Evie chuckled, a chuckle that turned into a laugh as she remembered the moment. “You should have seen Aretes. She was like, ‘Whoever you are, get the frutt out of my office, and close the door behind you.’ She didn’t even bother to stand. She knew damn well who the woman was, wearing that ridiculous IDC dress uniform, and Aretes ordered her out like she was a new recruit.”

  “How did she handle that?” Malkor asked. Probably tore someone’s head off. At least she would have at IDC headquarters.

  “Actually, it was kind of odd. She didn’t say anything, just looked over at one of the people who came with her,” Evie said. “It was definitely a Wyrd, the facial features gave her away.”

  Being on Ordoch so long, the soldiers would know how to tell friend from foe based on ethnicity, even if the difference was subtle.

  “The Wyrd had this oversiz
ed conical bag with her. It was just that, that one look, and then we were all marching out of there.” Evie looked up, making eye contact with him. “One second I’m standing there, waiting for Aretes to give her the business, next I’m out in the hall.”

  It was clear that she couldn’t quite make sense of what had happened. Unfortunately the picture was becoming all too clear for him. He needed to talk to Isonde, stat.

  Evie shrugged, putting the unsettling moment from her mind. “After that, she commandeered Aretes’s office, and spent the rest of the day calling in soldiers from all over the city, demanding reports.” Her humor returned. “Nobody looked pleased when they came out of a meeting with her.”

  Tooms made a sour face. “What does IDC know about military missions and running an occupation?”

  “Nothing,” Heron said, “that’s what.” In a less classy place, Malkor had the impression Heron would have spat on the floor with that statement.

  “What a cluster frutt this is going to be,” another of the officers said, setting off another round of head shaking and cursing.

  Rigger lifted her half-empty drink. “Well, here’s to the Council of Seven, for royally screwing us, yet again.”

  * * *

  The next morning, Malkor woke up feeling like shit.

  And not because he’d had too much to drink.

  If something went wrong trying to get the scientist out of prison this morning and they had to use the charges the rebels had set, people were going to get hurt. Good people. Hard-working soldiers who, from what he’d heard last night, didn’t want to be here. After the night-out vibe had faded and the alcohol-fueled melancholy had set in, he and Rigger had listened to story after story from people who missed their families back in the empire, who missed not being an invading army.

  The occupation was never meant to last this long. And the overall feeling was that it shouldn’t continue. When Rigger asked if they felt heartened by Operation Redouble and the incoming soldiers and resources, most said they hoped it meant they would be relieved of duty and sent back. Several questioned the mission and if they’d accomplished anything at all in five years. The overall feeling was one of futility.