by Jo Zebedee
“Good plan. I’m starving.” Silom set off to the right, and Kare followed. If there was food, Silom would find it. Sure enough, the sound of plates clattering reached them, and the first smell of food filtered down the corridor.
They rounded the door into the canteen and Kare stopped, stunned. He’d been here before, with Karia. They’d filled their pockets with supplies to take on the ship. Their dad had caught them, scaring them by grabbing them and announcing he had hamsters instead of kids.
He put a hand on the counter to steady himself, still spooked from seeing her earlier. It had been years since she’d last appeared to him, and he hadn’t been prepared for it, even though it made sense– everywhere else they’d shared had been destroyed.
“Did you hear me?” Silom waved a hand in front of his face. “What do you want?”
“Anything.” Nothing. He turned, leaning against the counter, and scanned the room. It was too bright, the diners’ faces in sharp focus, making him nauseous. There were too many people here, their minds pressing on him. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to find some space for his own thoughts, but still they came at him– snippets of other peoples’ lives, threaded personalities, not quite complete.
“Tea, coffee, piss… any chance of an answer?”
Kare focused on Silom, grasping his exasperation; his worry about Liane; grief; new from their flight from Dignad, a sense of growing older.
“Coffee.” He reached for some cups but something touched his leg, making him look down. Karia was beside him, stuffing her pockets full of food. Her pocket bulged and he reached for it, sure it was going to overfill. His hand closed on empty air. She wasn’t real. He jumped back, knocking Silom’s arm.
“Watch it!” Plates fell from the tray and bounced on the floor, their contents spilling, seemingly in slow motion. Karia grinned, her smile the same as when they’d been children, and then waved and ran from the room.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Silom snarled.
“Nothing.” He staggered to the nearest table and sank onto its bench. He was going mad, he had to be. He hadn’t used the power enough over the years, hadn’t kept up the right level of intensive– to hell with that, incessant– practice his dad had demanded, and it had turned on him, like he’d been warned. Either that, or living as a hermit for a decade meant he just didn’t do crowds.
A tray slammed on the table in front of him.
“Try breathing before you pass out,” said Silom, his voice pitched low, almost a growl.
He nodded and took a deep, ragged, breath.
“Brilliant. Keep going.” Silom took a chip and pushed the plate to the middle of the table, but the smell made Kare gag. He lifted the coffee, inhaling its aroma, and it cut through the onslaught of thoughts, giving him space to think.
“You want to tell me what’s happening?” asked Silom.
No. Silom waited and Kare knew he wouldn’t break first– he rarely did.
“Too many people,” Kare said, eventually. “I can’t hold them back…”
“Thought as much. You’ll have to find a way, or you’ll be known as the resident weirdo.” Silom picked up a chip. “What else is wrong? You’ve been freaking since we landed, and the port was hardly hiving with people.”
Kare paused, feeling like an idiot, but it would feel good to tell someone. “I saw Karia. Twice.”
“Terrific, now the dead sister’s turned up. Fantastic.”
“Your sympathy is overwhelming.”
Silom leaned across the table. “You need to pull yourself together.” His eyes were unflinching. “Either that or admit it’s too much, ask for some credits and leave.”
“I know.” He did, damn it. His father had been the best pilot the Banned had and he’d still been kicked out. He had no illusions; the empire's heir was only useful if he was up to the role. Always assuming he wanted it. He rubbed his temples; if the bloody voices would stop for a minute, he could concentrate. “I know. Give me some time.”
“You don’t have time.” Silom’s voice was low. “Either you find a way to deal with this now, or you fall into the liability camp. And when that happens, you can bet your ass we’re gone from here.” He picked up another chip. “We’ve got food here and a place to sleep. It’s more than we had yesterday.” He scraped his chair back. “So either find a way to cope, or throw in the towel. I’ll see you back at reception.”
He left, his footsteps fading into the murmur of voices and thoughts. Kare put his head back and, instead of forcing the clamour away, listened to it. None of it was threatening and if he just accepted the thoughts, they weren’t much more than a buzz. Tinnitus of the mind? He reckoned he could cope with that.
He got up and went after Silom. He didn’t have two options; he had one. He’d have to make himself so useful they wouldn’t dare cast him out. He put his shoulders back, ready to turn himself into the best damn soldier the Banned had ever had.
CHAPTER TWELVE
General Allen entered the palace’s war room, his pace slow, befitting his recent promotion to Head of Intelligence. He took his place at the desk stretching the length of the room, and swept his gaze over the four colonels seated at it. The room fell silent, just as it should, and he swiped his hand over the desk. A screen formed across the centre of the room, visible from all angles, showing the stellar cluster governed by the Pettina Empire. The cluster whose security he was responsible for. He allowed a quiet moment to savour the thought.
The seven central planets belonging to the great families were directly before him, three dimensional and real enough that he had to resist the urge to step out of their path. These first planets, colonised by settlers from the Earth-ship, were the most established, the richest, the centre of the cluster in terms of economy and power as well as positioning. Four, including the giant, desert-covered Belaudii, orbited Ceaton-I; the other three its sister star Ceaton-II.
He adjusted the screen so one of the three mid-zone systems, dependent on and tied to the families for commerce, was enlarged. It was the most remote of the middle systems, close to Ceaton-II with a small space hub providing port facilities to the Candelan system, the furthest out of the nine. That space hub explained the system's expertise in space repairs, servicing the inner, richer planets who didn't want their air polluted by the industry. It was said, if you wanted to scrap a ship, or buy one reputedly already crushed, Dignad and its sister planets were the place to go.
The four outer systems, Candelan and three others separated from it by the twin star systems, disappeared off the screen, which pretty much summed up their significance to the empire.
The general zoomed in on Dignad. He paused, letting his annoyance show, and cast his gaze around the room. Several of the faces already looked guilty; news had obviously travelled.
“With reference to the recent breach of security– ”
The door opened and a squad entered, wearing the gold and red livery of the Empress’ personal guard.
“General, our Lady commands your presence,” said the captain of the squad.
The words chilled him to his core. He placed his hands behind his back, gripping them together. “I have a briefing….” He nodded, indicating the colonels, each of whom was studying the desk and avoiding his eyes. They knew, as he did, that if the Empress required his presence, he would go. They must also know what it was regarding. He gave a curt nod. “We’ll continue when I return.”
The captain and his squad fell into place around Allen, who kept his head up, remaining composed. As he marched through the palace from the sterile military quarters to the opulence of the central chambers, his heartbeat quickened, pounding in his ears. His hands slipped, threatened to tremble, and he grasped them even tighter.
He turned a corner and ahead stood the gilded doors of the Empress’ anteroom. He slowed a little, but the guards kept marching and he was forced to keep step with them. His mouth was as dry as the desert. The captain opened the doors and stepped forward.
“Thank you, Captain. Leave us.”
The soldiers melted away and Allen stepped into the room. The doors closed with a thud, so loud he almost started, but held himself in check, staying at attention, back straight. From behind her desk, the Empress’ looked directly at him with soft, grey eyes, her mouth tight and unsmiling.
“You may kneel.”
He fell to his knees and bowed his head as she reached to the centre of him, tendrils of her touch oozing through him. He fought to stay calm, but his breath was coming in wheezed gasps. A spike of ice made him screw his face into a grimace. Still she went deeper, remorseless and sharp, punishing him for his failure. She increased her hold, making his head thud in sick waves. He let out a strangled sob and ceded to her and for a moment they stayed like that, mistress and servant, all promotion forgotten, his position in her army irrelevant. Soon she would release him, and he wouldn’t carry the fear of this moment forward, but a determination to serve better in the future.
“The matter of my son,” she said. “Explain yourself.”
Head down, he struggled to think past her presence. “M - my Lad - ” he said.
She pulled out of his mind, a leech slithering through him.
“Explain yourself,” she said again.
“My Lady, he– ”
“Look at me.”
His heart thudded– one, two, three times, each louder than the last– and he lifted his head. Her eyes, soft like liquid lead, regarded him and for a moment he felt at peace. A new blast of power hit, taking the breath from him.
“You have one minute, General.”
The throne room swam around him, and he gritted his teeth; he had to concentrate.
“My Lady, we know where he is.” Thank her presence, he had something positive to tell her. Her eyes softened and her anger turned to pleasure, washing over him in waves, making it hard to speak. “I have the means to bring him to you.”
“Excellent, General. Come, sit before me.”
He stood, light headed, and sat at her desk, his eyes fixed on her seductive gaze. Already the pain had ebbed, the satisfaction of being allowed so close to her, in her inner circle, replacing any doubts.
“I want a full update, Allen. Take your time, leave nothing out.”
He took a moment to bring everything he knew about Kare Varnon to the fore of his mind. “He’s fled to the Banned, my Lady.”
“His psyche?”
“He showed no indication of powers at any stage on Dignad. We interviewed everyone who had contact with him and there's little to go on.”
“Where were they interviewed?”
“On Dignad, by the local forces. My Lady, very few had any knowledge of him. Those who knew him– some neighbours, the cousin’s girlfriend– were brought to Abendau.”
“The Great Master oversaw their interrogation?”
He fought a shiver at the thought of the Great Master, his lady’s tribal brother who ruled the dark chambers buried deep in the palace: chambers so secret that, even with his general’s rank, he’d never seen them, only heard whispered rumours of what they held. The Great Master’s family had given the Empress shelter when her parents’ transport had crashed in the desert, not knowing they harboured Lord Pettina’s daughter, inheritor of the powers she’d used to bind the tribes to her. He was the closest to her, the nearest thing to a brother she had.
“Yes. Taluthna was most … diligent, I believe.”
“The outcome?”
“Taluthna's report outlines that none of them had any indication your son was a psycher." He paused, licked his lips and dared to say, "My Lady, we still don’t know he is.”
“I know,” she said. “He was bred to have powers. Why else did I throw away half a fleet to capture Ealyn Varnon? Do you think I liked the man? He had the old powers and they were merged with mine. I felt the children’s power from the womb.” He quailed under her anger, and waited until she went on in a quieter tone, “The boy is disciplined, then, more than his father ever was.”
“It would appear so, my Empress.” He trawled his mind. He had to find something to placate her before she decided to encourage him further. “We have found some evidence that he has an ability to know peoples’ feelings.”
“An Empath, then.”
“Perhaps. Also, he has a very high level of skill with computers. One of his neighbours shared that with us.”
“The neighbour lives?”
“No, my Lady,” said Allen. A frown crossed her face and he continued, hurriedly. “The Great Master, he took care to ensure all information had been gleaned. He– the neighbour, I mean– knew the boy better than most; he had some work done on his security system by Varnon.”
He paused, not admitting how little that neighbour had known: a conversation with Marine Dester and two brief meetings with Varnon hardly constituted informed knowledge. Since then– four years ago– the neighbour hadn’t seen Varnon. It was a depressingly familiar litany. Only Dester’s girlfriend had met him recently, and even then it had been fleeting, revealing only that Varnon was quiet and polite and usually avoided her. He’d shown absolutely no sign of psychic powers, except in a single conversation when she’d fallen out with Dester, where he may have known her thoughts. It was subtle, if he had, and could have been nothing; by the whispered account he’d heard, the girl would have said anything to stop Taluthna.
“I don’t want to know about computers, Allen, I want to know about his psyche.”
Allen snapped his attention back to the Empress. “My Lady, we don’t know that he has any.” He gulped. “Forgive me, my Lady, I meant there is no evidence.”
“Yet, this apparently powerless boy managed to overcome a platoon of soldiers and escape Dignad.”
He inclined his head. This was indisputable: the transporter’s doors had jammed, their security overridden, before it had blown up. “My Empress, we don’t know what happened. None of the soldiers survived.” He took a deep breath. “I do know where he is and how to find him. I will bring him to you. I have a means to track him, my Lady
I’m arranging its placement. I will– ”
“Be silent.”
He licked his lips, his whole body rigid. She made him wait, her eyes disdainful. The room seemed to close in, and he needed to breathe but when he did, it made a snorting noise. At last, the Empress nodded, and his shoulders relaxed, just a little.
“He must not be harmed,” she said. “It’s a pity he is with the rebels– alone, he would be easier to take.”
She clicked her fingers and a hologram of Kare, taken as he’d escaped Dignad, appeared over the desk. She zoomed in, and Allen noted how like Ealyn Varnon he was. The same hologram had been issued to each army and fleet in her empire.
“Take a full fleet and five squadrons, and use them only for the pursuit of him. I want him before any of the great families discover his existence.”
Firepower wasn’t the answer. The rebel base was buried in a hostile star system, surrounded by sentinel planets. To get close enough for an attack would require not only the huge resources offered, but someone within the rebels to undermine the approach sensors. Without that, any fleet would be destroyed. To have the additional requirement of keeping one person alive– out of thousands– meant only a full ground assault would complete the mission.
“My Empress,” he said. “May I counsel patience? I will have him tracked. If he is taken off-base we will have a better chance of taking him.”
Her eyes narrowed, but she knew the base as well as he did. They’d discussed the parameters for an attack many times, had attempted it twice, and had been repelled by the rebels before they entered the system.
“Arrange to track him then,” she said. “And be ready to take him at the first opportunity. You may go.”
He stood, bowing to her. “My Lady, I will find him for you. I have a security team following up on any documentation found in the house. Some are g
iving useful leads.” He paused, wanting to get away, knowing he must be seen to withhold nothing. “My Lady, they include adoption records for Ealyn and his sister. They may be worth following up, in case the boy runs again.”
She stared at the holo of her son. “Colonel Phelps reports to you?”
“Yes.”
She nodded. “He has a background in intelligence.”
“Indeed.”
“Instruct Phelps to track Ealyn’s background.”
“Yes, my Empress.”
“You are dismissed.”
Allen walked from the room, closing the door behind him, and took, finally, the deep breath he needed.
***
Averrine looked at the hologram of her son, turning it to see him from every angle. She’d never known him; he’d been taken before she came round from the birth. She focused on his eyes. Ealyn’s eyes. She clenched her fist. It was his fault : he’d poisoned the boy against her. Did her son know his father had condemned him to a childhood hiding in attics, when he could have been here, heir to Abendau?
She crossed to the window, her cape shifting in the slight breeze, and looked down at the palace gardens, the surrounding city and the red desert beyond. This was what he’d been born for. Her father had failed to hold his empire, but she had. Now it was her son’s to take and carry forward. Without him, the Pettinas would cease; there was no other heir, and no means to acquire one. The great families were united in that matter– they knew only by holding firm could they ever reduce her empire. He must be made to understand this was his destiny. She hadn’t survived the Bendau uprising for her empire to fall because of a seventeen-year-old boy–
She turned back to the hologram. There was nothing of her in the boy. He should be her legacy; she’d made him for that purpose. Instead, he had accepted Ealyn’s heritage. Her fists clenched. He must be brought to her and forced to obedience. Only when bound could he inherit. All he had to do was come, or be brought.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN