by Jo Zebedee
Durren joined them. “No going near the pools before we’ve met the guide. Come on.” He led the way, picking his way to the giant holo-station, and shook hands with the man standing by it, a young man with blond hair and pale eyes. They started to talk about what information would be covered during the visit.
Kerra touched the holo-command and brought up a map which showed the location of the biggest pools.
Baelan moved closer to her. “I’m fed up being babysat,” he muttered. “I’m going to lose the team. Cover for me.”
She looked at him, shocked. “You can’t.”
He rolled his eyes. “Kerra, I can do anything I want. Who’s going to stop me?” He touched his head. “Who can?”
“You’d get into trouble.”
“So?” His voice took on a dismissive edge. “What’s a bit of trouble? Anyway, I’m not asking you to do anything – just cover for me, eh?”
She had to take a deep breath, thinking of the trouble that would come from her doing that. “What if you get lost?”
He tapped his head, harder this time. “I’ll just concentrate on where Durren is and come back.” He grinned and his excitement leached across to her, a sense of freedom she’d never had. She wanted to see something real, not the sterile front put on show for her. Baelan had spent his whole life free – it wasn’t fair that she never had. He gave a wave of his hand and dodged to the side, off the path and into the trees.
“Hey!” One of the soldiers grabbed for Baelan but he dodged, laughing, and sped away, into the deeper forest.
Kerra looked between the way-marked path and Baelan disappearing into the trees. He was right. This sterile trip wasn’t the way to see the real forest. Without thinking any more – and certainly without thinking about the trouble she’d be in – she ducked under a branch and followed Baelan, speeding up to keep him in sight.
She started to run, jumping over tree roots, getting faster and faster until she’d almost caught Baelan. Booted footsteps sounded from behind and voices shouted her name. She slowed. “Nice try, Baelan!”
He glanced over his shoulder, grinning, and she felt the power as it passed by her. A crash sounded from behind, followed by yells. They went farther and farther into the forest, which grew darker around them. Each lava pool was a red eye in the gloom. Finally, all sounds of pursuit fell away and she slowed, bending so that her hands were on her knees to get her breath. She coughed to clear her throat.
“Kerra, you should go back,” said Baelan. He glanced over his shoulder, his face worried. “I have something I need to do first.”
What could he need to do in the forest? She started to ask him but something touched the back of her mind, a prickle of warning from the past. She looked up, startled, her hair swinging long and damp in the moist air. Dread settled in her stomach. There was someone in the forest, someone she’d met before.
It sparked the memory of a line of ships against the night sky, and Sam, the doctor who’d made her run. Suddenly, she knew who was waiting for her. She wrenched her arm free. “Baelan, we have to go.”
“You go,” he said. “Tell the security teams I’m lost, and send them the wrong way. It will buy me some time.” He paused, his eyes searching hers. “Please, Kerra. It’s my mother.”
How could it be his mother? She was on Abendau, with the Empress. Kerra backed away. Figures approached from the forest’s shadows. She was about to cast out, but Baelan ran to them.
“Mother!” he yelled, and flung himself at one of the figures. He turned back to Kerra, and she could feel his power focused on her, ready to stop anything she tried. With his power, he’d do it, too.
Her hands clenched. Let him go. She turned to leave. In front of her stood a soldier, tall and lean, with hard eyes and a thin face and nose. Phelps.
His mouth broke into something that might have been a smile. “How nice to see you again, Miss Varnon. Your grandmother will be pleased.” He reached forwards, fast and sharp, and a high smell replaced the forest’s stench as he slammed something up to her nose, his other hand on the back of her head, holding her in place.
Everything faded.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Lichio left the holo-studio, nodding a terse acknowledgement to his security team. Rent-a-quote, that was him today, yesterday, and the day before. It was getting old, defending Sonly and her record, not to say desperate. Too many voices were speaking up, prepared to go on record against her – it didn’t bode well, especially with the first talk of leaked information. It was also taking up too much of his time and had slowed his progress with the Ferrans’ chief finance officer, who seemed open to his approaches regarding extending their interests in the hub.
He shook off the doubts and reached his desk before opening his data pad. He should be reviewing Simone’s latest report from the city and checking for an update on Kare’s flight. He drew a picture of a dark-eyed man in the corner of the screen with his finger. Or he could draw pictures of Josef and muse on that confusion. He might be right – that their relationship had gone beyond Lichio’s denials and insistence on distance. It certainly hurt enough.
He erased the picture, and stared out the window as the transport passed through the streets of Marel. The port, with its regular hops to the space-station hub, dominated his view.
His comms unit buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket, hands responding automatically. A message scrolled across, marching to its end, then started again. High priority, from one of the security teams on Ferran-V. He read it, blinked, read it again.
“Shit.” He tapped the screen and opened access to the port and his pilot. Damn, he should have vetoed the trip to the forest, or nailed the boy down tighter before it, not got distracted.
“Set us as a priority,” said Lichio. “I need to get to Ferran-V now. Clear anything in our path.”
***
Sonly stared at the holo-screen over her desk, not sure if its size was a good or a bad thing. It gave her no place to hide from the accusations coming fast on this, the third day since the pictures had been released. Anyhow, she wasn’t sure she wanted to hide. At least she knew the detail of her downfall, could see and pore over every image of herself, could hear everyone who cast her down. It had to be better than hiding in fear – imagination could always do more than reality.
The screen changed to the earlier news-feed, an interview with Harald from the Abendauii Senate, and Lichio, standing in for one of the republic’s ambassadors at the last minute.
“Utterly ruthless,” Harald said. His sun-lined face added gravitas to his words. “She used the poor of the planet to gain votes and when she got into the Senate she carried out half of what she promised.”
“Twice as much as you opposed her on.” Lichio leaned back in his seat, a slight smile on his face. “Perhaps you had a funding aversion, Senator? Or will we see you putting the reforms in place under the Empress?” His face hardened. “The fact is, Bendau was in ruins when the New Empire took over. At least its kids have clothes now.”
Harald bristled, and picked up a data-filche. “General, I can give you figures if you want.”
“No need.” Lichio’s smile widened, guileless, and he waved the offer away. “But if you do want some spending tips, I can put you in touch with the president.” There was a light ripple of laughter and he let it play out for a moment, then leaned forwards, his eyes sharp. “Or better yet, we can let the republic complete the reforms. Then we’ll see what Sonly le Payne can put in place when properly supported.”
There was a ripple of applause from the audience, making Sonly smile, just a little. Lichio was wasted in the military. He was so at ease in public, turning barbs into light comments that were more effective than her cold-seeming responses. Her smile faded. Lich might be good, but it wasn’t enough – everyone knew using her brother, a military specialist, to defend her was a last resort, borne out of the fact no one else was prepared to.
As if to prove the point, Harald drew himself straighter.
“Or we can ask how much of the republic’s data she will hand to her political opponents. After all, security doesn’t seem her strong point.” He tapped the dossier in front of him, the first of the supposed leaks from her. “The reforms for Bendau were shared months – many months – before they were implemented. What else will she share?”
Damn. The original reforms hadn’t even been hers to share – it had been Kare who had first signed them off, shortly before he handed the Department for Planetary Improvement to the Senate. She could protest, but to argue, to bluster it was a lie, only made the allegations more accusatory. She switched to a different studio, but with the same dimmed lights and serious atmosphere.
“—the sort of damage done to a person who has faced a regime of torture isn’t easily overcome.”
The name of the speaker flashed up: a doctor she was unfamiliar with. Where did they dredge these people up from? She wanted to throw something heavy and hard at the holo-deck, but the damage would be found at some stage and give the whisperers more ammunition.
“So you believe it would be hard for her husband to meet her demands?” asked the presenter.
What demands? She’d told Kare, early on, that she’d support him no matter what. And she’d tried – no one knew how hard she’d tried except her and Kare: through night after night of nightmares and years of rejection. He’d been left with more damage than either of the spoiled, ignorant men on the screen could ever imagine.
“Given the sort of treatment he endured…” The pause was just long enough for the watchers to imagine what wasn’t being said. “…I think that’s entirely possible.”
“That’s an interesting perspective, thank you.” The interviewer faced the recorder. “The failure of the erstwhile Emperor to show public support for his wife is, commentators believe, the most telling factor. Despite the statement issued by him, there’s clear reticence on his behalf to speak publicly.”
Damn it, they were insidious, using rumour and insinuation that she couldn’t stand up and refute. It wasn’t like she could announce why Kare wasn’t available to the media.
She snapped the display off, leaving a single line of silver for reactivation when she next needed to torment herself. She didn’t care what the commentators said about her, or even Kare, who’d heard worse over the years. But Kerra… there’d been a whole morning of commentary on her, the child supposedly from a broken home, damaged by her mother’s political greed. It mattered more than any political mistake they’d accused her of. Only the thought of the bitch in Abendau being handed a win had kept Sonly smiling through every interview, and left her ready to face the council of the New Republic and beg for the presidency.
Speaking of the council: she had a speech to carry off, or she would be forced out. She started pacing, practicing sotto voce, her hands moving in time with the words. It looked like she was pleading. She put her arms down by her sides, hating the idea of any sign of weakness. Hating the thought of going in front of the council, but the campaign had been masterful in its timing. With the republic barely founded, it couldn’t ride out much negative publicity. A day or two, maybe, but there was no sign of the momentum easing.
She glanced at the time – the council would be well through its first review of the footage. In an hour she’d have her only chance to convince them she could keep their ambitions intact, and she’d been losing ground today. She knew that from the missing delegates at her lunchtime meeting. A knock sounded on the door, much earlier than she’d expected, sending a shiver of anxiety through her. Being called early wasn’t a good sign.
“Come in!” She ran her hand through her hair and put her shoulders back. Whatever was decided, she’d face it with dignity. Well, as much as she could muster.
A soldier entered, not an attaché from the council. Her heart missed a beat. Kare would be landing on Belaudii today, but confirmation of that would surely be no more than a communication from Lichio. Only if something had gone wrong would a nervous-looking captain come to her office.
“What is it?” she managed to ask, but her voice was too thin. She took a breath and calmed a little – better to know.
The captain stood to attention, not quite meeting her eyes. “Ma’am, General le Payne sent me.”
Surely, if something awful had happened, Lichio would have come himself? He wouldn’t want her receiving bad news from someone else. “Go on.”
The soldier cleared his throat. “The general says there is no cause for panic.”
She’d have pointed out she wasn’t panicking, but didn’t think she could squeeze the words out.
“Ma’am, the children have gone missing in the fire forests.”
His words sank in, and then panic did hit. Ferran-V had the shortest days in the system. Night would fall soon. She had to put her hands on her desk to steady herself. She forced herself to swallow the cold dread that would solve nothing. The children had an experienced guide and two security teams – they couldn’t stay missing.
“What do you mean – missing?” she asked. Her voice was thin. “Is there a mechanical problem with their transport?”
“No, ma’am.” The man looked like he’d rather be anywhere other than in this office with her. “The security teams report that the children ran into the forest. When the squad tried to follow, some sort of force-field knocked them out.”
Only one thing could have caused something like that. “The boy?” she asked. Damn, she’d known he was trouble; she should never have allowed him anywhere near Kerra. Except that Kare was right – any difference made between his children would have been pounced on by the opposition and if they’d tried to hide Baelan, and news of who he was had leaked, that would have been even more fodder.
“General le Payne is en route to Ferran-V and will oversee the search,” the soldier said, deftly avoiding answering. “He asks that you wait for him to contact you with more information.” His face softened. “Ma’am, I’m sure they’ll be found.”
Why was he? The fire forests claimed lives every year. It was why Lichio had insisted on the local guide and the double security team. If the boy had done something – and she remembered Kare when he’d first come to the Banned, power radiating from him, barely constrained – who knew why? And Kerra was with him, with nowhere near what she needed to defend herself from him, even with Kare’s training.
“Ask the Roamers,” said Sonly. “Tell them to find Kerra.”
“They say they can’t.”
Sonly sank to her seat. Of course; Kare had said he’d have to leave the mesh when he reached Abendau. With him gone, the mesh wouldn’t connect the Roamers as it should. The image of Kerra lying in the forest, still and hurt – maybe worse, who knew what the little sod had done to her – flashed before her. She pushed it away; she had to, or she’d never manage to think, and she needed to focus and work out what to do.
“Perhaps the children just don’t want to be found, ma’am. They definitely left under their own steam.” He tried a smile. “It may be a chance to explore the forest without their tutor. Or perhaps their idea of a trick.”
Sonly swallowed the panic that clawed at her throat and insides, and pushed off from the desk. “I’m going…”
“The general asks that you stay here and he will report in. There are search parties combing the forests. The Ferrans are helping – they have specialist heat-seeking ships for forest-searches when tourists go missing.”
Tourists who went missing, only to be found dead the next day. Sonly had seen footage of the bodies, what remained of their eyes, wide and staring. The forests were huge; searching even a tiny section would take hours, and heat-seeking was not an exact science, not with the ground giving off heat through the lava pools, let alone the other tourists in the forests. Until dark fell, heat-seekers would be of limited use. And once it was dark….
She remembered Rjala’s tales of the sprites who stole heat from people; the sucking noises, the screams. How it had taken an older man, with knowledge of th
e forests, to show her how to survive the forests. It had been a gory, terrifying fun when she was a child, safe on the Banned base. Not now.
The captain backed away. “Ma’am, if I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”
She gave a slow nod. Lichio was right; there was nothing she could do on Ferran-V to help. In fact, she’d be a hindrance: another person to report in to and delay the search for. “Tell the general I’ll be in my office and to call me the minute he knows anything.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The captain left. She stood in a silence which gave no comfort, ignoring the flashing light on her data pad calling her to defend her position, and could do nothing to dismiss the image of her daughter lying cold on the forest floor.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Lichio stepped into the docking bay on Ferran-V, his squad falling into place behind him. The military-grade planet-transport allocated was already primed. He got on quickly, refusing to go down the line of guesswork about what the boy had done and why. Find the children, that was the priority – after that, he could find out just what the hell had gone on.
The ship took off from the dock, banking over the city and out to the forest. The last of the late-afternoon sun broke through clouds. The day was falling quicker than he needed it to. Below, search teams had spread out to fan through the forest on hover-bikes and personal speeders. The air was filled with transporters, all military; tourists had been ordered to leave the forest within half an hour of the kids’ security teams checking in, although some more intrepid parties were still emerging from the deeper forest. Beyond the security perimeter, media-ships hovered, making him frown. If any of this leaked, he’d take the Ferran headquarters apart by hand and teach them something about running a secure mission.
Except the Ferrans hadn’t been running the children’s security. All their personnel had been hand-picked from Kare’s forces. The lad should not have been able to blind-side two security squads, both of whom had training in handling psychers. Even Kare, back at the Banned, had struggled to take out a five-man Star-ops team.