by Alix Nichols
When he entered the bunker, Mother greeted him with a happy smile. “He woke up.”
“What? Are you sure?”
The news was too unexpected, too good to be true.
“He’s awake, Jancel. Really awake this time. He’s been conscious for over two hours.” She grabbed Jancel’s hand and led him into the second room that had been converted into a field hospital. “I can’t wait to tell Reverend Goyyem about this. She’ll be very pleased.”
Mother’s best friend had tended Areg ever since Jancel brought him here. She’d gone to great lengths, almost performing miracles to keep him alive.
You bet, she’ll be pleased.
Breathing in the smell of medicine, disinfectant and Mother’s salves, Jancel hurried to the back of the room. Areg lay on his bed in the same position as last time. As almost every time Jancel had seen him over the last three weeks.
Except his eyes were open. Sort of.
“Areg,” Jancel said. “Can you hear me?”
His former major lifted his lids with visible effort.
As his vision focused, recognition flashed in his eyes. “Jancel?”
“Yes.”
“Where’s Nyssa?” Areg’s voice was hoarse, barely audible.
“She’s safe.”
Jancel filled a glass with water from the pitcher and brought it to Areg’s mouth. Areg tried to lift his head from the pillow but he was too weak. Slipping his hand behind Areg’s neck, Jancel helped him.
“Etana?” Areg asked.
Jancel weighed his words. “The carbonized female body found next to yours—”
“Wasn’t her. Have you heard anything else?”
Jancel moved the glass closer. “No, but I’d say no news is good news in this case.”
Areg slowly emptied his glass. “Can I see my sister?”
“No.”
Areg startled. “Do you still have her? Or have you passed her on to your friends?”
The question stung—until Jancel remembered to put himself in Areg’s shoes. It was understandable he’d ask that.
He placed the empty glass on the table. “She’s in my house.”
“You expect me to take your word for it?”
“No,” Jancel said. “I believe I’ve lost the right to ask it of you. You’ll have proof.”
Areg gave him a doubtful glance. “What are you planning to do with me?”
“We can plan that together,” Jancel said. “Officially, you’re dead.”
He went on to give Areg the full lowdown.
Jancel was about to ask if Areg knew whose scorched body had been taken for his, when Mother stood up suddenly.
She held her hand out. “Give me your commlet, Jancel. I can’t wait any longer—I must call Reverend Goyyem to share the good news.”
Jancel’s eyebrows rose. “Does she own a commlet?”
“No, but Prioress Aynu Eckme does, and she’s in Iltaqa to officiate at the harvest festivities. I’ll ask her to pass it to Hedensia.”
“Does Aynu know I’m here? That I’m alive?” Areg asked.
Jancel shook his head. “We kept the number of people in on this down to a strict minimum.”
He gave Mother the device, and she almost ran out of the bunker to make the call.
“How did you manage to get me out of there?” Areg asked.
“You passed out, so I had to carry you on my back.” Jancel tried to smile. “I must confess I also dragged you part of the way. It was a long way from Fort Crog to this bunker.”
“What about the shooters?”
“I killed them.” Jancel looked down. “Shot two cops from behind like the backstabbing snake I am.”
“You saved my life.” The statement was more of a question, incredulity palpable in Areg’s voice.
Damn. The Sebis really believed he was a jerk.
Areg frowned. “How did you know to be there in the first place?”
“A friend in the force tipped me off. Iyatt.”
“Samurai Martenn?”
Jancel nodded. “He’ll be here shortly.”
“I had no idea you were friends.”
“Very few people do,” Jancel said. “And we hope to keep it that way, for everybody’s sake.”
Mother came back in and handed Jancel his commlet. “Reverend Goyyem said I’d made her day.”
She smiled.
His chest clenching, Jancel realized he hadn’t seen Mother smile in years. Possibly, not since Hawina’s death.
There was the special knock on the door. Jancel opened it to let Iyatt in.
His friend’s eyes lit up when he saw Areg fully conscious and greeting him with a weak smile. Over the last three weeks, Jancel’s ex-major had vacillated between life and death, regaining partial consciousness for brief spells. But this time was different. This time gave them real hope he’d pull through.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Iyatt said to Areg, after greeting him and sitting down at his side. “Etana was brave and pure of heart. May she find peace in the Eternal Garden.”
Areg shook his head. “Etana is alive.”
Iyatt stared at him, blinking. “How? Her remains were found next to whoever they mistook for you.”
“I was going to explain that part to Jancel, before we got sidetracked,” Areg said. “She didn’t die at Fort Crog. She was whisked away by a LOR enforcer named Yaggar.”
Iyatt pulled his chair closer. “As in Colonel Yaggar? The head of the Enforcer Corps? He was on Hente?”
“Yes, on a covert intervention with another cyborg to exfiltrate both of us.” Areg’s eyes clouded. “But it didn’t quite work out as planned. Yaggar’s lieutenant was killed. It must be her body, not Etana’s, that Ultek’s men found.”
Color drained from Iyatt’s face. “What did you just say?”
“I said—”
“Who was the other cyborg?” Iyatt’s face contorted as he struggled to utter the next bit. “Was it Unie Thraton?”
Slowly, Areg nodded.
Divine Aheya. Iyatt’s Unie, the love of his life, had fallen in line of duty. That explained her long silence and not returning his calls.
“I got through to Colonel Yaggar last night.” Iyatt’s voice shook. “He said Unie had resigned from the Enforcer Corps, and he didn’t know where she’d gone.”
Areg gave him a look filled with sympathy. “She was killed in a covert op, so Yaggar couldn’t tell you the truth.” He glanced at Jancel, then at Iyatt again. “Did you know her well?”
Iyatt didn’t respond. Jancel doubted if he’d even heard the question. His friend sat in his chair with his eyes closed, his face ashen, and his body stiff.
Jancel gave him a brief, firm hug. That was what Iyatt had done when Hawina passed. It had helped—just a tiny bit—but even that tiny bit had been precious.
A single, smothered sob escaped Iyatt’s lips before he drew back. “I need air.”
He stood, nodded to Mother, to Areg, and to Jancel.
“Iyatt, are you sure—” Jancel began.
“I’ll be fine. I just need some time alone,” Iyatt said before turning to Areg again. “Excuse me.”
And then he rushed out the door.
Mother wiped her eyes. “Poor boy.”
The three of them remained silent for a long moment, each engrossed in their own thoughts.
Jancel expected Areg to ask who Unie was to Iyatt.
But he didn’t. He must’ve guessed. At length, Jancel forced himself out of his dark, worried thoughts about Iyatt.
He turned to Areg. “How are you feeling?”
“Been better.” Areg skewed a feeble smile. “My legs hurt.”
Goddess help me.
Jancel opened his mouth to ease Areg into his own bad news, but words evaded him.
“You no longer have legs, my boy,” Mother said softly. “The blast had ruptured your arteries, and that stopped the blood flow to your legs. Infection set in… Reverend Goyyem had no choice but to amputate both.�
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She pulled the blanket aside and nudged his head up a little so he could see.
Areg took in the stumps and the empty space where the rest of his legs should’ve been. His face tightened. Then, his features relaxed and his head fell loosely.
He’d slipped out of consciousness again.
9
Etana marched away from the serpent fountain.
After a moment’s hesitation, she took a left turn, then a right one, crossed a light-bathed atrium that was expertly tended and headed down the widest corridor.
The League of Realms Space Station was a beautiful, big, and messy place. There was a logic to its structure, and Misaha had explained it to her several times, but Etana was still too awed by the ensemble to spot the discreet signs or the subtle differences between its different areas.
It had almost been a month since she’d arrived.
Back at Mount Crog as Keiron had flown with her toward the shuttle, she’d begged him to turn around and go back for Areg. She’d beseeched and cried and even threatened him. But he’d carried on. Before she knew it, they’d reached the spacecraft, leaped into hyperspace, and touched down on the enforcer base near LORSS.
The medic there had given her a sedative. When she’d woken up the next morning, they’d given her a commlet so she could ping Areg. He hadn’t responded to any of her hundreds of calls.
She’d reached out to Rhori and to Aynu. They’d both told her the same story. Two charred bodies, a male and a female, had been found at the site and identified as Areg’s and hers. That was all they knew.
Seeing as the male’s bones had been planted there by Keiron, there was still hope that Areg had survived. Etana hung on to it and tried not to dwell on the scenario that was worse than death—Boggond’s men had captured Areg alive.
Before leaving the enforcer base for LORSS, she had been given a brand-new identity. From now and until the day she died, she’d be Tay Soofi from Oiru—a remote planet in the Baylian Arm.
But this time it was more than just ID papers.
She got a makeover, including a series of subtle facial surgeries. As for her hair, she’d have to dye it blond for the rest of her life. Not that anyone at LORSS knew who she was or what she used to look like, but you could never be too careful, as her new boss Vetil liked to say.
While making her “alterations,” the medics told her they could’ve changed her hair color permanently by tweaking her genes. But that little tweak would’ve required a minor cyborg implant, and it could’ve suppressed her gift.
Etana mourned every change—the contours of her face, the shape of her nose, her black mane replaced by a short, blond bob. Every little bit of her old self that disappeared was a bit Areg had fallen in love with.
If Aheya heard her prayers and returned him to her, would he like the way she looked now?
A familiar sight broke her from her dark thoughts.
She was back at the same fountain with its gilded sea serpent gurgling out a tame jet of water.
All right, I’m officially lost. Again.
Etana silently cursed her non-existent sense of direction and headed away from the fountain. She took a right turn and another, figuring that if she kept turning right, at least she wouldn’t end up in the same spot twenty minutes later. Yet, somehow, she did.
Except this time, a woman of Etana’s age sat on the basin’s rim with one hand in the shallow water, playing with the pebbles at the bottom.
Etana sat down a few feet from her and rested her head in her hands.
The woman studied her for a moment. “You’re new and you’re lost.”
Smiling, Etana nodded.
“If you’re looking for the residential sector”—the woman pointed behind her—“it’s down that corridor, green elevators at the end, second level, and follow the signs.”
Etana pressed her hand to her heart. “Thank you so much! I’ve been trying to get to my room for almost an hour now.”
“Happy to help.” The woman touched her forehead and inclined her head. “I’m Zoly.”
Etana returned the greeting. “I’m Tay Soofi.”
“Is that your full name?”
Etana nodded.
“Lucky you.” Zoly pulled her fingers out of the water and wiped them on her pants. “My full name is Zolendarlia Cronk. I hate it.”
“It’s an original name,” Etana offered.
“That’s what my mother keeps saying. But, honestly, Zolendarlia?” Zoly rolled her eyes. “Even her own name—Cemaluria—isn’t that bad.”
“Do you work here?”
“My mother does, so I know LORSS pretty well.” Zoly sighed. “I was hoping to join the Enforcer Corps.”
“Really?”
Zoly twisted her torso and lifted her sweater, flashing a pair of wings neatly folded against her back.
“Oh, my!” Etana eyed the mechanical wings, not so different from the pair that had saved her life. “Way to go, Zoly.”
“I’m a late-life cyborg,” Zoly said. “Got all the enhancements my savings could buy. Trained like crazy for two years… Finished top of my class…”
She turned toward the fountain.
Etana hadn’t missed the edge in Zoly’s voice. “Did they reject your application?”
“Second time in a row.” Zoly shifted and leveled her gaze with Etana’s. “Now I have to wait a year before I can apply again.”
“Have you considered another career?”
Zoly’s eyes were bright with resolve. “No. My ambition is to help the oppressed in Xereill. I want to fight for them.”
Sweet Aheya, she sounds like Areg.
“You all right?” Zoly gave her a concerned look.
“Yes—it’s nothing.” Etana drew a breath and forced herself to smile. “Becoming an enforcer isn’t the only way to help the oppressed.”
“I know, but the other ways are too… insipid. They don’t inspire me.”
“What was the reason for rejecting you?” Etana asked.
“Officially, my lack of strength.” Zoly huffed. “Except it’s rubbish. I may be weaker than a born cyborg, but I know for a fact that Colonel Yaggar looks for a variety of skills in his recruits—not just brute strength.” She narrowed her eyes. “I know what the real reason was.”
“What?”
“My mother.”
“Oh, I see.” Etana smiled. “She worries because the job is too dangerous, so she pleaded with Colonel Yaggar not to recruit you.”
“That’s one possibility. The other possibility is that Colonel Yaggar won’t recruit me because he doesn’t trust me.”
Etana frowned. “I don’t understand. Shouldn’t he trust you more than others since you’re a LOR colleague’s child?”
“He should, if my mother was a regular LOR colleague.”
Etana tilted her head to the side.
“She’s the head of ERIGAT,” Zoly said emphatically.
Etana furrowed her brow, trying to place ERIGAT in the complex LOR structure and recall what its function was.
“The Establishment for the Regulation and Inventory of Gifts and Traditions?” Zoly prompted.
Etana blinked. Was that supposed to explain everything?
Zoly clapped her forehead. “I’m stupid. You aren’t yet aware of all the internal politics at LORSS. You’re new.”
“Very new.”
“Which department?”
“Vetil’s.”
“He’s all right.”
Etana nodded. “He seems so.”
“Wait a second, that must mean… If you work with Vetil, then you’re a…” Zoly squinted at Etana. “You’re a rich-blood!”
Etana responded with a hesitant smile.
Zoly leaned forward, her eyes bright. “What’s your gift? Are you polygifted?”
“I’m not. And even the one gift I possess…” The corners of Etana’s mouth drooped. “It’s not clear if I’ll ever be able to use it again.”
“When was the last time?�
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“A month ago. Actually, it was the first time. And the last.” She looked away. “I’m afraid it might turn out to be the only time.”
“Don’t give up too easily, lady! Look at me. I’m going to spend another year doing shift work and training by day, and then I’ll apply again with the next round.”
“What if you fail again?”
Zoly’s big, intelligent eyes held defiance. “I’ll try again.”
“I admire your resolve.”
“It’s easy when you know what you want.” Zoly moved closer. “What do you want, Tay, more than anything in the world?”
“To see my lover again.”
Zoly surveyed her, her eyes deepening with sympathy. “Then you can’t give up, can you?”
Slowly, Etana shook her head.
10
A better time for the Allied Realms Commanders-in-Chief Summit would’ve been hard to imagine. It gave Jancel the perfect opportunity to travel to LORSS.
Considering Eia’s limited resources, only three seats had been booked on the inter-arm starship Ambassador. The delegation consisted of Jancel and two majors.
The three of them had used the travel time to review the current strategy for deterring Teteum and make adjustments to it. They agreed that if Boggond continued to turn a blind eye on the army’s needs, no further adjustments would be necessary. Eia wouldn’t stand a chance. And Teteum would know it. The risk of LOR sending in its Enforcer Corps would be the only deterrent.
Jancel hated the sound of that. Just as he hated the Teteum army commander’s smug face throughout the summit.
In the evenings after the formal sessions with his counterparts, Jancel snuck out to the most private of the LORSS watering holes to catch up with some old friends. Said friends procured him a vial of the truth serum, and a vial of a newly synthesized vaccine that was supposed to counteract its effects in the person who took it. Forever.
Back on Hente, Jancel immediately set out to the South District where he oversaw the biggest training exercise of the year.
He returned to Orogate after two weeks of absence, praying to find Areg on the mend. Keeping Nyssa in the dark about him was cruel, but he’d had no choice… until now. If the vaccine turned out to be effective, it would give him the greatest joy to tell her that her brother was alive.