by Jo Zebedee
“You were told wrong,” said Kare, but he was shaking again.
Lichio sat down on Silom’s bed. “Do you want to tell me who it was?”
Kare shook his head. “Nothing happened.”
“I heard you had a couple of broken bones and a medic would be needed.” Lichio looked Kare up and down. “Now, you’ve obviously dealt with that– and I’m not going to take that further. To be honest, given the chance, I’d do the same. But I need to know who it was.”
Kare looked directly at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nothing happened, and if it did, it happened in the dark and I couldn’t see anyone. I’m fine.”
Lichio stood. “Your choice,” he said. “I can’t force you.” He rubbed his face, fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “But, look… if you need someone to talk to, you know where I am.”
Kare stood too, relieved his legs were able to hold him. “I appreciate it. But really, nothing happened.”
Silom came in and Lichio moved towards the door. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Kare watched him go as Silom started to wipe the blood from the floor. He sank onto the bed and put his head back; three more weeks and he was through basic training and would be assigned a proper squad. It had to be better than this.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Lichio rapped on the door of his brother’s office, waiting until the low voice told him to enter. He stepped in and stood to attention.
“At ease.” Eevan leaned back in his soft chair. “I believe congratulations are in order. A lieutenant, no less. Sit down, why don’t you?”
Lichio sat and tried to ignore his heart jumping at the compliment, annoyed that his brother’s regard meant anything to him. Still, he smiled, not able to stop himself. “Thanks.”
"You wanted to see me?"
Lichio stretched his legs out– the pleasantries had been shorter than usual today. “Yes, thanks, sir. There was an incident in the barracks last night.”
“An incident?” Eevan picked up his data pad and opened it, his movements relaxed. “What sort of incident?”
“One of the new recruits got hurt.”
“Really? Which one?”
“Varnon.” Lichio paused, remembering the blood, the bed kicked out of place. “It wasn’t as severe as it first looked, but I thought you should know.”
A frown crossed Eevan’s face. “That’s lucky. Has he got steel skin, do you think, or did the boots miss?”
Lichio frowned, sure he hadn’t said how Kare had been injured.
“They got interrupted,” he said. He kept his focus on his brother, but Eevan’s face was impossible to read. “Varnon’s big mate stopped them. He was lucky.”
“Very. Do you know who they were, the attackers?”
Lichio shook his head. “No, I don’t.” He smiled, very slightly. “Do you?”
Eevan pointed his finger across the desk. “Your smart mouth’s going to get you into trouble, Lich.” He closed his data pad. “I don’t think there’s anything to report here. He cheated and these things cause a response sometimes. I trust this will go no further.”
Lichio sat a moment longer, remembering how shook up Kare had been, and then nodded. “No, I can see that it shouldn’t. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Did I hear something about you going to Corun?”
He smirked and Lichio struggled to keep his voice steady. “Yes, that’s right.”
“It’s a hellish place, you know. Let’s hope it’s a short placement.”
Lichio stood, wondering who had chosen Corun. Actually, knowing who had. Sometimes his brother was a hard person to like. “Let’s hope so. May I leave, sir?”
“Go right ahead.”
He let himself out and stopped in the corridor. If Eevan had it in for Varnon, it wouldn’t stop here. And even if he wasn’t close to Varnon– hard to see how anyone could be when the bloke had a wall around him that screamed keep away– he didn’t envy anyone in the firing line of Eevan.
He wasn’t close to his brother, either– there were too many years between them– but he knew the dark anger behind the vicious attack, done from afar with the touch of a real bully.
He turned to leave. It was none of his business. In a couple of days he’d have left for Corun, and Kare Varnon would be someone else’s to look after. Except… Sonly had asked if he was Emperor material and, in truth, the answer was no. Not at all.
And yet, there was something about Varnon, a way of dealing with what came his way and getting on with it. He’d dealt with Stitt’s shit as well as anyone Lichio had seen and, whilst he’d been shaken up last night, he’d held himself together. He could be important to the Banned if they could bring that out of him: too important for Eevan to go too far with, and he damn nearly had last night.
He walked down the corridor and knocked on Colonel Rjala’s door. He must be mad, doing this. But he hated bullies. More than that, he couldn’t stand being told what to do, especially by Eevan.
“Come in!” The crisp voice made him automatically straighten and check his uniform.
He went into the familiar, sparse office. No plaudits on the wall here, to soften the sense of a desk in a barracks that could be moved at any time. The only personal touch was a single holo, in a small enough setting to be grabbed in a moment and shoved in a pocket. Behind the desk Colonel Rjala sat, her greying hair cropped close to her face, her blue eyes steady.
“Lichio,” she said. “Can I help you?”
Lichio walked over and she indicated for him to sit. “Ma’am,” he said. “May I speak off the record…?”
***
At the practice ground, Kare faced Ashe, and enjoyed a sense of satisfaction at his confused face. If he could complete the course, his day would go a long way to making up for the night before. Eevan might have been behind the beating– he was sure he had to be– but Ashe had no doubt been the ringleader of the attackers.
The whistle blew and he ran, clearing the hurdles easily. Grabbing the rope, locking his foot in it, he climbed the wall. He jumped down, slipped a little in the mud, and ran to the monkey bars, leaping and missing them. He stepped back, took a breath to settle himself, and tried again, this time catching the bar. Moving across, he still struggled, but the rhythm came a little easier. At the end he jumped into the water and gasped at the cold as he waded through.
When he stepped out, his boots were slippery and he took a moment to plan his climb. He started, planting every step before he took another, and was close to the top when his right foot slipped from its support. His left hand loosened, two fingers pulled back by the force, but he managed to hold on. He scrabbled with his foot, but there was only empty air. His right hand started to pull off the wall, and he tried again to find the support. This time his foot caught the edge of it, and he was able to steady himself. He curled his injured fingers back onto the handhold– gods, that hurt– and pulled himself to the top. His hands slipped into the sling, and he waited for the okay before launching into the long swoop to earth. Hell, it mightn’t have been graceful, or fast, but at least he’d finished.
He landed to the sound of clapping and looked up to see Lichio giving a slow round of applause. Kare walked over, cradling his injured fingers, and Lichio fell into step beside him.
“Well done, Karl.”
Kare raised an eyebrow. Lichio handed him a bunch of papers and Kare took them with his good hand; they were identification documents in the name of Karl Bell. He smiled. An invisible man, just like I was an invisible boy. “When do I go?”
“Transport’s ready. Silom - who’s now Simon - is already on board. If we have to hide you both, it’s safer having you in one platoon. The less who know, the less chance there is of a leak.”
“What about basic?”
Lichio shrugged. “The powers that be say you can finish in the field.”
He wasn’t being kicked out, then; he’d convinced them of that, at least.
And he wasn’t going to be left to be Eevan’s punchbag, either, which was good. “Who knows my identity?”
“Colonel Rjala, the chair of the board and the major. That’s it.”
“And you,” said Kare. “I’m not being rude, but what relevance is it to you?”
“I’m going, too. The colonel wants a link man for you. I’m it.” Lichio made a face. “And it’s sir.”
“Sir?”
“You don’t think I’m going in as a private, do you?” Lichio looked mildly horrified. He tapped the insignia on his shoulder, a crouched Lynx, teeth bared. Somehow it suited him. “It’s Lieutenant le Payne, and that’s Sir to you. Private.”
Kare waited a moment, not sure what to make of that comment. In fact, not entirely sure what to make of Lichio le Payne. Silom had warmed to him over the last few weeks, and that was a good sign, but he kept himself too guarded for Kare to be sure of him. Slowly, he felt his face break into a smile. He liked him, he decided, surprised.
Later, after a shower, he sat on one of the window seats of a transporter as it started its long, slow launch. The seats reclined, but that appeared to be the only bit of comfort; cargo space obviously had priority over the passengers.
He braced for the first moment he dreaded, when the inertia regulator took effect. His stomach churned, partly through habit, he was sure, until the initial launch was completed and he could lean forwards and look out the viewing window.
The Banned base had disappeared into the jungle, the lush green fading as they rose through the clouds and reached the high blue sky of the final atmosphere. There was a jerk as the ship switched to its star drive, the usual rush of sickness, and space blurred around them.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Six months later
“The inertia-reg will switch over in a moment,” said Michael.
Sonly made a face– she hated landings– and closed her data pad. She put her head back as her stomach lurched, then settled. It was over so quickly, it was silly to get tense about it.
“Okay?” Michael put his hand on her arm.
“Yes, thanks.” It was worth a space flight to get the chance to meet ambassadors from the Great Families. That it was being held at the busy Ferran hub, with the added element of discovery and danger, made her excitement swell and hands tingle; she had to do well. She turned her thoughts to the meeting ahead, and the thing that had been niggling her through the flight. “Why are both the ambassadors meeting us now? Isn’t it sudden?”
Michael pulled at his greying beard, taking his time. “With us negotiating traffic allowances with the hub, we’re close to holding the outer rim. Tortdeniel want to get into the communities, improve their education and tie extra planets to them. Balandt get to extend their banking interests. The outer rim gets the type of development we can’t fund.”
Sonly shook her head. “That’s all very plausible. But both of them? We’ve had the upper hand in Ferran since last year, and it’s now they want to deal?” Her eyes narrowed. “They know about Kare, don’t they?”
“Yes. What of our young heir? Any progress?”
She took her time: Michael knew she’d been getting word from Lichio and that it had included snippets about Kare. But she didn’t want to reveal just how much. She was a little surprised, herself– next time the Banned decided they needed a super spy, she’d nominate Lichio.
“He says he has no interest in becoming Emperor,” she said. Her seat shifted a little as the ship touched down. “He wants to replace it with something else.”
Michael cursed, and her eyes widened. Usually he was circumspect around her, treating her like one of his granddaughters.
“That,” he said, “will never be supported by the families.”
“I know. But, you know, the Banned were formed to oppose her, and there’s a part of me that thinks Kare has it right and we should remove everything that bitch has built.”
“Quite the rebel.”
“Maybe,” she said, shrugging. “And I know what you’re thinking: aspirations aren’t going to win the war.”
“Exactly. Which means we need to work on Kare. When is he due back from Corun?”
“They leave tomorrow.”
Michael undid his seat fastenings and pulled his long jacket over his shoulders, not bothering with its sleeves. With its silver trim, it gave him a gravitas she had no hope of emulating. “He’s eighteen and has never had tutelage in politics. When he gets back, he’ll have learned the basics of the military– ”
“The very basics, he needs more– ”
“Granted. Rjala can work on that; we’ll work on the political side.” He paused. “I think I might arrange for you to do that– he’ll be more comfortable with someone his age, it’s less likely to put his back up at the start.”
Another sign of trust. She resisted the urge to smile, getting up and stretching instead. “That means he’s staying on the base. Isn’t that risky?”
“With a new identity.”
Sonly shook her head. “It’s no good. Lichio says anyone who knew Ealyn will recognise him. A new identity hides nothing.”
“Surgery? It’s expensive, but …”
And painful. “There might come a time when we’re glad he looks like one of his parents,” she said. “We should reignite the old tales about Ealyn and the twins, so that when he meets the families there will be no denying whose son he is. That builds the link back to the Banned.”
They moved to the hatch, and Michael turned to her as it opened. “Good. You know, if you do want to follow your father’s legacy, you need to be able to take decisions– rational, planned decisions, not emotional ones– and know you’re doing it for the right reasons. Aspirations, like you say, won’t win the war.”
“I know.” Even so, she was glad today was about trading agreements and not Kare, because she didn’t know how she felt. They were using his name everywhere, and he hadn’t said they could. It didn’t seem right. But if they didn’t….
Michael stepped onto the ramp and she followed, focusing on the two people waiting at the bottom. The private docking bay they had been allocated was empty, but the Ferran insignia reminded her to be careful. The wrong eyes, the wrong person hearing her name could be lethal. It was, she suspected, one of the reasons Michael had brought her: being so young and not yet on the board, her face would be relatively unknown.
“Louis,” Michael said. He shook the first ambassador’s hand, and Sonly decided– he was so tall and thin– that he must be the Balandti. Michael turned to her. “This is my associate, Sonly le Payne.” He nodded to the other psycher, a woman. “And this is Margueritte Tortdeniel.”
Sonly stepped forward, holding out her hand. “It’s lovely to meet you.”
Margueritte nodded. “Darwin’s daughter?”
“Yes.” Sonly looked at her traditional Tortdeniel dress, high collared, its rich blue material shimmering in the light, and wished she could have something so lovely.
“It’s nice to meet you, Sonly,” said Louis. He contrasted against Margueritte’s colour, in the traditional Balandt black from head to toe. Even his boots, polished beyond what seemed possible, were jet in colour. She supposed it was the banker-genes running through the Balandt family– she’d never come across one who was anything but painfully sober. “I met your father, once, when he was still with the Empress’ army.”
“That must have been a long time ago.”
“Nearly thirty years.” He gestured down the corridor. “This way.”
Sonly followed, moving a little closer to Margueritte. “Your dress– it’s beautiful,” she said. “I just had to tell you.”
The Tortdeniel’s face broke into a smile, and Sonly relaxed a little. She’d been worried it was the wrong thing to say.
“Thank you. Very few people mention it. Especially the men; clothes are wasted on them.”
Sonly’s eyes opened slightly, and she paused, not sure how to respond. T
he other woman’s eyes challenged her but a smile remained in place. Finally, Sonly shrugged slightly, and said, “Well, what can you say about black?”
They walked into a small boardroom and Sonly pulled out her data pad, bringing up the figures she had prepared for the meeting. If they could pull this off, there was a nice income stream for the Banned; a five percent levy for access to the Banned-controlled outer zone was more than reasonable.
Michael paused at the door. “The facilities? May I?”
“Second on the right,” said Louis.
Both ambassadors sat opposite Sonly, and there was an awkward silence. The Balandti smiled, his eyes meeting hers, and he seemed friendly enough for all his long face and thinning hair. “We hear your group has had an interesting… arrival.”
She fought to keep her face straight, and not look around for Michael. “Arrival?”
“We heard,” said Margueritte, “that the Empress’ son is alive and with the Banned.”
What should she say? If they were voicing it so openly, they knew, and she needed them to trust her. “Yes, that’s true.”
“And does he support the Banned? Is he standing with you against the Empress?” Balandt’s voice was casual, but his posture was on edge, alert, and she warned herself to be careful.
She gave a smile she hoped was relaxed. “Yes, of course. He came to us, not Abendau.”
“And he is in the position to take the Emperorship, should his mother… pass on?” Margueritte asked. She, too, was alert but there something in her eyes, something just a little less calculating, that made Sonly sure she understood more of the nuances of the situation. Had she grasped why Kare was with the Banned, and how he felt about the empire? If so, caution had to come first: none of the great families could get any hint of Kare’s feelings about the empire. Change could be a threat to any of the families, supported and enriched by the status quo as they were. Even remaining under the Empress, paying her tariffs and abiding by her rule, might be preferable. It was impossible to know for sure– the game was too finely played between the families; nothing was ever as it seemed on the surface. It was why she loved politics.