by Jo Zebedee
“I don’t have time!” Kare told them. “Sonly, you’re needed if there’s anything to salvage.” He pointed at Silom. “You being here won’t make a difference to me, but you might to them.” Silom paused for a moment. “Now, Sergeant,” Kare said, firmly.
“Yes, sir.” Silom seemed to find it easier now he had been given an order.
Kare turned to Sonly and kissed her, quickly. “If I can, I’ll come back to you,” he told her.
“If you can,” she said. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.” He paused, meeting her eyes: this was it; whatever lay ahead had to be faced now. He pulled her close, kissed her head, and then the baby's soft skin. She smelt of milk, of washed new skin. He barely knew her; he didn’t know how he could leave her.
“Look after her," he said, his words croaked. He met Sonly’s eyes. “Keep her with you, and safe.”
“Kare– ”
He shook his head; he couldn’t face what she had to say. “Please, go: I need you to…”
She nodded, her eyes shining with tears. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He swallowed, and his throat was hard and hot. This wasn’t what he’d wanted, a rushed goodbye, the sickening knowledge there was nowhere to go except into battle. “You know that.”
She turned, Silom’s arm on her elbow, guiding her. Kare watched them leave, saw Sonly look back once, and then looked at Lichio. “Let’s go.”
Lichio nodded, and Kare saw his own emotions mirrored in Lichio’s face: the fear of staying behind, the brief, bitter desire to run instead.
“If I thought I could do my job tonight without you, I’d have sent you with them.”
“I know, but I wouldn’t have gone, sir.”
They set off at a run to the control room, hearing a series of explosions rip through the base. They ducked through the people emerging from their rooms, some going to the evacuation points, some to their stations. As they arrived at the command room, Kare flexed his mind to reach into the room, to get a sense of what was happening and–
– nothing.
He cursed softly. What if he was nothing without his psyche: a coward? Swallowing his fear, he opened the door and turned to the two nearest soldiers. “Seal the door; we don’t need to be distracted by that.”
As the soldiers moved forward, Kare realised one was Captain Stitt. He put a hand on her shoulder, and she nodded to him. “Sir.”
He sat beside Rjala and put an earpiece in, while Lichio scrolled through screens. Kare swore. The enemies were everywhere, the Banned fighters pushed back.
“You’re in charge of the air defences, Colonel,” Rjala said. “I’m going to have to run the ground forces.”
“Why?”
“Eevan hasn’t turned in for duty.”
Kare noted the thin line of her mouth. The bastard. “How did they get so close?” he asked.
“No comms,” she said. “They came in silently. Also, the initial defence systems didn’t work. By the time we picked them up they were practically at the base.”
“Fault?”
“No. It was taken out– from our level.” Their eyes met. “I’ve been busy all day, and I hear you have been too.”
The whole base? His men; his family?
“I called him right,” Kare said, with no satisfaction. On any other day, he would have known if the system was tampered with; it was alarmed and linked to his personal computer. Today, he’d been too busy to even think about it. He paused, sick at the idea he could have stopped this, but pushed the thought away. There would be time in the future to go over the endless might-have-beens.
He leaned forward, spoke into his communicator. “Sector four engage: safeguard the approach to the base.”
Ships converged where he’d ordered. Rjala was pulling together the disparate platoons who’d been defending with no leadership, isolated from each other. It seemed she was getting somewhere, there was talk of pushing back the attackers, and his air forces were holding all but one approach. They were taking huge losses, though, more every minute as the Empress’ fleet came in massive numbers, wave after wave. He heard a soft curse beside him.
“They’ve got the blast cannons in,” Lichio said.
“How many?”
“A lot.”
There was the sound of a blast, distant and muffled. The base rocked, the impact designed to shatter the walls that stood against their enemy shaking the base to its foundations. The lights flickered in the room around them. It was, Kare knew, the beginning of the end.
“How many transports away, Captain?”
“Twenty-two so far, sir.”
Another huge blast rocked the base, and Lichio looked at him, his eyes wide. He hadn’t betrayed him, Kare realised, more relieved than he should be. He’d wondered over the years, knowing they’d try to get to him through those around him, if he’d been wrong to trust Lichio.
Lichio swallowed and said, “We’re not getting away with this one, sir.”
“Doesn’t seem like it. And there’ll be no miracles from me tonight. They’ve taken my powers away.”
Lichio's face was stunned. Kare shrugged; it was so simple. Take out the mind– however they’d done it– and you take out the psycher.
“There goes plan B,” Rjala said, behind them. “I’m sorry, Colonel. Get the last transports away now. At best, you have minutes.”
He leaned forward and gave the order. On the screen, the last three transport ships lifted off, a squad of fighters with them, and he knew they weren’t full. He watched the line of people left behind, their only hope of escape gone, and saw the Empress’ troops enter the hangar. His people fell at their laser fire, the small amount of returning fire making no impact. Was Sonly with them, lined up for death, or had she made it to one of the transports? Even if she had, she’d have to get across space, to the relative safety of a new, less secure, base.
At the sound of screams he turned and saw the door had been breached. A shot took Stitt on the chest, and she fell, lying across the doorway. The first of the invading soldiers stamped on her as he walked in. Her hand clenched, and Kare listened to her last, agonised breaths. If he’d had his psyche, he’d have ended it for her.
“Which is the leader?” their captain asked, and Kare saw, with no surprise, Eevan enter the room.
“That one,” he stated, as he pointed to Rjala. “And that’s Varnon.” He faced Kare, exultant in victory, and Kare squared up to him. The bigger man stepped back slightly, but as Kare moved forward, hands took his arms and started to pull them behind him.
“You treacherous fucker. Your sister’s in a transport running a space blockade, or dead in the base.” And his baby. Fear choked him. “Your little brother’s on his way to Omendegon with me.” With enormous pride he saw Lichio step forward. “Your soldiers were slaughtered, without an officer to command them. To get me? Am I really worth that much to you? Why?”
Eevan kept his eyes focused on Kare. “Because my Empress commands me,” he said.
“You poor bastard,” Kare said, with a harsh laugh. He struggled against the hands on him, his anger giving him strength, and threw the soldiers off. He had never had so much hate. It filled him, distorted him, making him feel like a different person. “She got to you, did she? Or did you offer her me? Did you deal with her, Eevan, and think you might win? Well you didn’t; no one wins except her.”
“Kare!" Rjala stood, her blaster drawn, the same firebrand his father had known. He moved to give her a clear shot, and a pinpoint of laser passed him, missing by centimetres, and hit Eevan, centred between his eyes.
“Drop your weapon!”
She smiled and raised her blaster. He tried to break free, to stop her, but shots rang out and she fell.
“General, no!” shouted Lichio.
Kare tried to reach her. Hands grabbed him, firmly this time, and pulled him back. She didn’t move. He pulled forward a little, and then stopped. She’d had no block, no way to keep her secrets safe. Eve
n at the last, it had been about the Banned; a life to be proud of, indeed. Something cold pressed against his temple.
“Don’t move,” said a voice. “We came for you.”
A muscle moved in Kare’s cheek. “Fine, kill me.”
“Not you.” The gun moved to Lichio instead, and Kare met his eyes. He couldn’t be his killer. The soldiers surrounded Kare, and his arms were pulled behind into cold cuffs. At his feet, Eevan lay dead.
There was movement at the door and two men entered: the first tall, lean, with flat grey eyes, his insignia showing him as a general. He smiled as he looked around the room. Kare looked from him to the other.
“No!” He pulled at his manacles, trying to free himself, but it made no difference. He twisted, trying not to face the man who’d been in his nightmares since he was a child.
The general nodded to the man beside him. “He’s all yours, Captain Beck.”
The huge soldier reached for Kare and pulled him forwards. Kare closed his eyes. The future was here, the path his father had known; whatever was ahead, let him at least show courage.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The darkness, that was the first thing. The cold and fear. They were all distractions from the pain spasming down his back. His legs were cramped; his chest burned each time he tried to take a breath.
Kare wrenched his thoughts away. The attack: the base was gone and the death toll must have been huge. Had Sonly made it to the reserve base? His breath hitched– he knew where it was. How long until she’d move, knowing he held the information? He didn’t know, but he silently thanked himself for placing the block.
The block. With Stitt dead there was nothing he could do to remove it; there was no way out for him. Fear came rushing, attacking him, and he had to think of something, anything else. Beck. The darkness filled with pinpoints of light. Beck, whom his father had screamed for mercy from. Karia had pressed against Kare and they’d promised each other if they met him, they’d run. He pulled against his restraints, but there was no give in them. He groaned, low in his throat.
How long had he been here? He reckoned somewhere between half and a full day. His piss was cold underneath him, so it must have been hours since he’d given in and crossed the first line from free to owned.
The door opened, light spilling in from the corridor, and he squinted against it. The person who entered was huge– bigger than Silom, even– sending fear spiralling into every corner of his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath, and opened them again: not seeing was worse.
“Hurts?” said Beck. His footsteps echoed as he crossed to Kare, and there was the pinprick of another injection. How many had they given him now?
He kept his mouth closed, afraid that if he said anything, the dam protecting his mind might fail, and he’d keep going until he betrayed everyone he loved.
Beck put his hand on Kare’s head; it was warm against the newly shaved skin. Kare tried to move from under it, but Beck forced his head forward and down. Pain arced across Kare’s shoulders, radiating through his arms and chest. He tensed, and the knots in his legs tightened. Another sharp push and he shrieked.
“I asked– did it hurt?” Beck’s voice was low, menacing.
“Yes!” Kare’s arms strained against the back of the seat. He sucked in a breath. “It hurts.”
Beck let go, and his arm pulled back. Kare tried to move, but the blow knocked him to the side, sending pain shooting through him.
“It hurts, Master,” said Beck.
Kare shook his head, dizzy, and clenched his mouth closed. Beck laughed, low and rumbling. He walked to the door and Kare sucked in a deep breath of relief– he’d done it, held out against his demands. His torturer turned back with something in his hands.
“I came to give you some food.”
Food. His arms would have to be released to eat. He waited as the guard went behind him, ready for the relief. Instead, hands clasped under his chin and pulled his head back. Something was put against his mouth and he clenched his jaw against it.
“Open.”
He tried to wrench his head away, but Beck held him firmly, forcing a thick tube into his mouth, so far that he gagged. Thick liquid, sour, burning his throat, poured in. He choked, but still more came, spilling out and down his neck and chest. Panicking, he fought, but his shackles were too tight, and the liquid only stopped when Beck took the tube away. Kare lifted his head and swallowed the last of it, hard. Beck moved in front and waited, a smile on his face.
“Water.” Beck lifted a jug and the panic came back, worse now, so basic and primeval Kare lost any sense of where he was, or what was happening to him, focused only on the need to get away. The chair rocked, pulling at his back and shoulders, and then settled. Effortlessly, Beck pushed his head back.
“No!” Kare fought, wrenching his head from side to side, adrenaline masking his pain, but another tube, this one narrowed, poured water into his mouth and down his throat. He pushed against Beck but was held down and still it came. He swallowed and swallowed, great gulps of water, retching it back up and then gulping again until black dots danced in front of his eyes. He was drowning. No breath came, just water, gushing down, unstopped and unstoppable. Beck pulled him upright and waited as he retched, gasped air, and retched again.
“If you throw up, I’ll feed that to you, too.”
Kare swallowed the threatened bile and started to get the choking under control. He struggled against his chains; it was as effective as his last attempt.
Beck’s soft voice stopped him. “I know you, I know your thoughts.”
He stopped struggling and listened. It was important to listen.
“I’ve lived and breathed you for years,” Beck continued. “I’ve listened to the spies tell me about you. I’ve watched your captured soldiers break, in Omendegon, and sob out everything they knew about you. I interviewed Eevan le Payne for two days, and he told me you like to be in control, all the time. Well, you no longer have a choice about anything. Your life will be governed by me and if I want you to eat, you’ll eat. If I want you to sleep, you’ll sleep. If I want you to sit on a seat in agony, then that’s what you’ll do.”
He left, and the room plunged back into darkness. A wall of pain hit Kare, coming from everywhere– his muscles, his throat, his mouth– accompanied by his father’s pleas for mercy, as vivid now as when he was seven. I can’t face it; I can’t.
***
Lichio sat, propped against the wall, his hands loosely shackled. The atmosphere in the main hold was muted. Guards carrying whips were interspersed amongst the prisoners, and armed guards were stationed at each of the doors. A walkway ran across the top of the room, overlooking the prisoners.
“I reckon we’re nearly in,” Lichio said. He had no clear idea how long he’d been held in this room, the lights never dimmed, his shackles only loosened for food and toilet breaks. At least a week, judging by Silom’s beard. Probably more. Given the size of the ship, and presumably its hyperspace capability, they could easily be near the Ceaton systems. “They changed drives.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky and crash.” Silom, beside him, seemed composed but Lichio couldn’t decide if the big man really was less frightened or just better at hiding it. Whichever it was, he was right. A space crash would be quick; whatever lay ahead on Abendau wouldn’t be.
“How many of us do you reckon there are?” he said, wrenching his thoughts back to the present.
Silom looked around the hold. “A thousand?”
“Something like that, maybe a little less.”
Silence fell between them as a nearby Banned soldier squared up to a guard, who pulled out his whip and lashed the soldier, corralling him until more guards convened and shackled him tightly to the wall.
“That was pointless,” Lichio said. “I wonder if Sonly made it?”
“I don’t know.” Silom sounded frustrated; Lichio had asked more than once, as if it was a scab that had to be picked and picked at, until it went
away. “I got her as far as the transports. Kym isn’t here, either. She'd have been fighting on the base.”
“I know. Maybe she made it, Silom.” Lichio paused. Something still wasn’t right. “Are you sure about the baby? It doesn’t make sense to kill her– surely she was what the Empress wanted.”
Silom scowled. “I’m sure: I heard the shot. I don’t think they realised who I was, or the baby.”
“Will you tell Kare?”
“If I can. He should know.” Silom’s eyes were bleak. His hands clenched. “Where the hell is he?”
There was no answer to that; Kare hadn’t been seen since Lichio had been taken onto the ship, and the giant guard with Kare had peeled away from the main group with him.
“Solitary?” How much worse would that be? Without Silom to talk to, he’d have gone mad with fear days ago. He glanced at the big man. “You know they tried to bring me in against him?”
Silom’s mouth dropped open. “When?”
“Just after Corun. What they offered me, Silom…” He looked up at the ceiling, not wanting to meet his eyes. “…I was tempted. Anyone would have been.”
“Not me.”
Lichio, remembering the day in the jungle, the sharp taste of desire in his mouth, shook his head. “Don’t be too sure. I went straight to Eevan and told him– I had to tell someone, so I couldn’t take it. Does that make sense?”
“I suppose.” Still, Silom scowled. “Were you really tempted?”
“Briefly. I wouldn’t be now.” He moved his hands, the chains clinking. “The thing is, if I’d despised him, I’d have been very tempted.” He bit his lip. “What if it was me who put Eevan onto it? What if this is my fault?”
Silom shook his head. “They’d have tried him at some stage, anyway. They’d have kept going until they found someone to sell Kare out.” He spat. “You’re sure about his powers?”
“Yes.”
“That’s hard to imagine.” Silom nudged Lichio and nodded to the door opposite them. “There he is.”
Lichio looked over and saw the guard first, before noticing Kare behind him, his arms tightly shackled behind his back, his head shaved. Silom started to get up.