The Queen's Gambit

by Jessie Mihalik

  “How did people take the news?” I asked.

  Ari shrugged. “Nobody was thrilled, but there wasn’t too much outcry. They know you’re doing everything in your power. Everyone is pitching in where they can.”

  The Rogue Coalition had its problems, just like any large group of people, but when the going got tough, the tough got deadly determined. After I had made it abundantly, painfully clear that I wouldn’t tolerate people taking advantage of one another, they decided that their energy was better spent trying to figure out how to stick it to Kos and Quint.

  But that goodwill would only take us so far. If starvation ever truly set in, the Coalition would collapse into a horde of wolves that only looked out for number one. At that point, there would be nothing I could do except try to direct the fury away from the most vulnerable.

  “Okay, let’s go see what I can do to help,” I said.

  Occupying the former military base’s central parade grounds, the market was the largest communal gathering place in Arx. The panels overhead made it appear like we were under bright blue skies with slowly drifting white clouds, but only the front half were on.

  A few solid buildings had sprung up in the open space—the bakery and general store, for example—but mostly small market stalls leaned against one another, built with whatever was handy. In the distance, under the dark half of the ceiling, shadows clung to the walls and narrow pathways.

  It reminded me of the back-alley markets on the planet I’d grown up on.

  Many of the stalls were empty now, but the market still buzzed with activity. People might not have much money, but that didn’t prevent them from getting together to gossip and barter.

  Zita O’Neill caught sight of us first. “Samara, you’re back!” She pulled me into a hug and kissed the air next to my cheek. Then she stepped back and glanced behind me. Her smile turned coy. “And you brought Lieutenant Peters, how lovely.”

  A matronly woman in her forties with red ringlets and a ready smile, Zita ran Arx’s main bakery. She’d been a fixture in Arx from the beginning, but these days she made simple bread for rations and none of the fancy little desserts she loved.

  I’d been in and out of Arx for the past month tracking down Valentin, so I hadn’t seen Zita for weeks. She, too, had lost more weight. The last of the cherubic roundness had disappeared from her cheeks, and it made her look worn and tired, like she’d aged five years in five weeks.

  “Hello, Zita,” I said. “I missed you. Did you keep everyone out of trouble while I was gone?”

  She laughed. “You’re the only one who has the power to work that particular miracle, but I did my best.” She paused, then looked surprised. “You’re not accepting neural links?” she asked quietly.

  “Not right now,” I said.

  She nodded, then leaned in and whispered, “I snuck the Dovers’ girl some extra bread. She’s pregnant but won’t tell her pa, so she can’t get the extra rations.”

  I appreciated her discretion, but Ari could hear a person breathing two rooms away thanks to her augments, and she wasn’t the only one with augmented senses. Secrets rarely stayed secret in Arx.

  “That’s fine,” I said. “I’ll check on her.” I’d watched Lily Dovers grow up. She was barely eighteen. As far as I knew, she had a good relationship with her father, so she should have no reason to hide her pregnancy.

  If Lily had been forced, I’d make her assailant a very public, very gruesome example of why trying that shit in my sector was mortally stupid. The seedier elements of the Coalition tended to self-police, and I let a lot of things slide, but I had a zero tolerance policy on rape, murder, and domestic abuse across the board.

  “Do you have time for tea?” Zita asked.

  “I wish I did, but I have to show Val here around,” I said.

  Zita barely spared him a glance. Outsiders weren’t shunned, largely because everyone here had been an outsider at one point or another, but they weren’t welcomed with open arms either. “Come back when you have time,” she said to me.

  “I will,” I promised.

  “Val?” Valentin asked softly when we were far enough away.

  “I didn’t disguise you just to shout your full name to everyone nearby.”

  Then there was no more time to talk because we were to the next group of people. As they crowded around us, I latched onto Valentin’s right arm so we wouldn’t be separated.

  Arx had nearly eight thousand permanent residents and another two thousand newcomers who were waiting to transition to another settlement. I tried my best to meet every group who came to the city. This gave them the chance to ask questions and gave me the chance to lay down the rules and see their faces.

  Thanks to some quirk in my brain, I had excellent facial memory, so I recognized everyone around us, even if I couldn’t remember their names. All of their faces were leaner than the last time I’d seen them.

  As we moved through the market, most of the questions were about the new ration levels: did I know about them, how long would we be at this level, what was I doing to fix it. I answered them patiently: yes, not long, I have a plan.

  A young mother clutching an infant hovered on the edge of the crowd. She was fairly new to Arx, and she’d lost a dramatic amount of weight in the short time she’d been here. “Excuse me,” I said to the people around me. Her eyes widened as Valentin and I moved toward her but she stood her ground. Smart woman.

  “Walk with me,” I said to her. “What’s your name again?”

  Valentin was a silent shadow at my side.

  “It’s Patricia, um, your highness,” she stammered.

  I laughed. “Samara is fine,” I said. “We don’t stand on ceremony around here too much. What about your baby?”

  “His name is Joseph,” she said with obvious pride.

  “It’s a good name,” I said. When we’d put a little distance between us and the crowd, I stopped and turned to her. “Why aren’t you eating your rations?”

  She looked me straight in the eyes and lied. “I am,” she said.

  I raised an eyebrow and waited.

  She looked away and blushed. “My little girl is always hungry. Sometimes I share my rations with her.”

  “You’ve lost too much weight. If you keep this up, you won’t be able to nurse Joseph, and where will that leave him? You’re to get double rations for two weeks, tell Zita and Eddie and they’ll confirm it with me. Eat every bite of your own rations—no sharing. I expect to see a marked improvement in your weight the next time we talk.”

  She ducked her head. “Yes, my lady,” she said.

  “If your daughter is hungry all the time, get her checked in medical. If nothing is wrong, come and see me and we’ll see if we need to adjust the children’s rations.”

  Children’s rations were a dear subject to me. When I’d first joined the Rogue Coalition, I’d been perfectly happy looking out for number one and ignoring everything around me—until I’d noticed a little boy starving to death while everyone turned a blind eye. My rusty conscience had groaned to life and set me on the path to becoming Queen.

  Patricia looked up with hope in her eyes. “You would adjust the rations?” she asked. At my nod, she bowed deeply and I wondered at her background. “Thank you, Queen Samara. I will not forget this.” She hurried off, as if afraid that I’d change my mind if she lingered.

  “Want me to let Zita and Eddie know?” Ari asked.

  “Please,” I said. “And I want someone to check on Patricia in three days. Make sure it really is her little girl that’s getting her rations.”

  “I’ll have Imogen handle it. She’s good with people,” Ari said.

  “Have her talk to Lily Dovers, too,” I said. I would’ve liked to talk to Lily myself, but I had to deal with Valentin first. “If Lily refuses to talk to her or if Imogen suspects anything, let me know and I’ll deal with it.”

  “Do you always take this much interest in your citizens’ lives?” Valentin asked. His expression
had been attentive as we’d made our way through the market.

  “She does,” Ari grumbled. “Do you know how many times I’ve heard complaints about rations? They’re adults; they shouldn’t whine like children.”

  “Arietta, be nice,” I warned. I’d heard this argument before. But if bitching to me about rations made people feel better, then I would endure it to keep the peace. With any luck, this would be the last time I had to hear about it for a while.

  “She’s right, you know. They’re adults. You shouldn’t let them walk all over you. They’ll lose respect for you,” Valentin said.

  “I’ve been Queen for five years and in five years, I’ve had exactly zero coup attempts. You’ve been Emperor for what, eleven months? How many attempted coups have you had?”

  Valentin refused to answer, which was answer enough.

  “It seems to me,” I said, “that if anyone here should be giving another person leadership advice, it should be me teaching you. I’m available any time at quite an exorbitant rate, but I’ll give you a ten percent discount due to your dire need.”

  11

  It took another twenty minutes to extract myself from the market after my chat with Patricia. My thigh throbbed like fire had replaced my bones, slowly burning me from the inside out.

  When a little boy ran up to give me a farewell hug, I wasn’t fast enough to dodge. He clamped his little arms around my bad thigh and gave me a squeeze. Tears sprang to my eyes and I clenched my jaw hard enough that my teeth ached.

  He beamed up at me, and I somehow summoned a smile. I ruffled his hair, then he darted away with a wave, unaware of just how much pain he had caused. After he disappeared from view, I hissed out a breath.

  “Are you okay?” Valentin asked. I realized that my hand had gone white-knuckled around his arm and I consciously loosened my grip.

  “Give me a second,” I wheezed.

  “You need to visit medical,” Ari said.

  “I will as soon as I have time,” I promised again. An auto-doc could patch me up in a few hours, but I had to have a few hours where I could afford to stay put in medical.

  Ari leveled her hard stare at me. “See that you do, or I’ll rat you out to Stella.”

  My horrified expression was only half-feigned. “Let’s not be hasty now,” I said with a placating wave. Ari’s wife ran medical. Most of the time, Stella Mueller was the nicest lady you’d ever meet. But she ran medical like she had a doctorate in dictatorship. She wasn’t afraid to restrain unruly patients—Queens included. If Stella caught wind of how badly I was injured, she’d hunt me down.

  Ari’s smile had a slightly evil edge to it and Malcolm laughed. I glared at both of them, but I had to suppress the smile that threatened to break through. “With friends like you, I hardly need enemies,” I sniffed.

  “We prefer you alive, your majesty,” Malcolm said, “because stars know we don’t want your job.” He shuddered in mock horror and Ari nodded in agreement. It was easier to not have any coup attempts when no one wanted the job in the first place.

  Before I could change the subject to something safer, Valentin’s stomach growled. It was a little early for dinner, but someone would be in the mess hall anyway.

  “Come on,” I said. “I need to eat, too.” It would give me a chance to sit and rest my leg.

  “Hey, Eddie, how’s it going?” I asked as we stepped up to the counter in the mess hall.

  Eddie Tarlowski looked up with a grin. He was twenty-five, with shaggy blond hair and a forgettable face. He had been one of the best thieves in the universe until he’d gotten caught by the Quint Confederacy and conscripted. He’d escaped, but not before he lost an arm and a leg in some nameless skirmish with the Kos Empire in deep space.

  Two years ago, he’d shown up in Arx with two mechanical limbs and a chip on his shoulder the size of Andromeda. He’d spent most of his first six months peeling potatoes as punishment for everything from stealing to trying to incite a riot.

  I’d begun to wonder if he was ever going to let go of his anger.

  Then, slowly, so slowly, he’d warmed up to the chef and starting appearing in the kitchen without it being a punishment. Now, he was the head chef—though, much like Zita, he hadn’t been able to flex his surprisingly good culinary muscles in months.

  “Long time, no see, boss,” he said. “You bring me any of that steak I asked for?”

  “I’m afraid not,” I said with true regret. I hadn’t had real meat in nearly a year. “What’s on the dinner menu?”

  “You’re in for a treat tonight,” Eddie said. “I’ve made my famous risotto di proteine.”

  I laughed. “At least it sounds delicious. I need two servings, one for me and one for Val here,” I said, jerking a thumb at Valentin. “He’s not in the system yet, so you can deduct his from my rations.”

  “Sure thing, boss,” Eddie said. He pulled out two bowls with his gray mechanical arm. These days, Eddie used the arm so naturally that, if you couldn’t see the color, you wouldn’t know it was mechanical. But we’d lost a lot of dishes before he’d calibrated the strength correctly.

  Eddie added two ladlefuls of protein mush to each bowl. It had all of the nutrients required to keep you alive, which was the nicest thing you could say about it. He pulled out a tray and set the bowls on it, then sliced an apple in half and put a half next to each bowl. “Bon appétit,” he said with a flourish.

  “Thanks, Eddie,” I said.

  I reached for the tray, but Valentin beat me to it. When I didn’t move, he tilted his head toward the tables.

  I stopped to add two glasses of water to the tray, then led Valentin to a table in sight of the door. I’d left Ari and Malcolm outside so they didn’t have to watch us eat up close. Despite their protests that it was fine, I knew how hard it was to do so when you were hungry.

  The mess hall was nearly empty. In another hour it would be packed, but for now we had the place to ourselves. I sat down with a grateful groan.

  Valentin put the tray on the table and sat across from me. “You really should go to medical,” he said quietly.

  “After I send you home, I will,” I said. I met his eyes. “Who have you been communicating with?” I asked frankly.

  Valentin smiled and my heart kicked.

  “Your com system is terrible,” he said. “I can’t seem to link through it, and I’ve sent messages, but I haven’t received any responses. Are you sure you’ll know when my advisors contact you?”

  “Yes,” I said. “It may take an extra hour or two, but the system isn’t that bad.”

  I pulled my bowl toward me. Protein mush had a texture somewhere between oatmeal, risotto, and engine grease. The taste was not much better. Valentin eyed his bowl as if he expected it to attack.

  “Eat up,” I said. “It’s not delicious, but it’s not poisonous, either.”

  “I’m familiar with PRiMeR,” he said, using the official acronym for Protein Rich Meal Replacement. “I just hoped to never see it again.”

  That surprised me. PRiMeR was far, far down the list of possible meal replacements. It was one of the cheapest you could buy. Someone as rich as the Emperor should never have had a reason to dip below the specialty MREs produced for the elite classes.

  It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him about it, to peel back the layers to find the real Valentin Kos, but I swallowed the question. I already liked him too much, but despite his friendly attitude, we were not friends. At best, we were temporary allies.

  We finished our meal in silence. With nothing better to do, I decided to check on the guest suite near my quarters. It was originally intended for visiting dignitaries, but we hadn’t had any of those in the entire time I’d lived in Arx.

  I think we’d converted the suite into storage, but if we were lucky, it would work for a night or two while Valentin was here. I wasn’t letting him hang out in my rooms, and I didn’t quite trust him enough to leave him on his own, so a shared suite would have to do.

 
; Now I just had to convince him it wasn’t a cell in disguise.

  Once I told Ari that I planned to clean out the guest suite, she rounded up a few people to help. To my surprise, even Valentin pitched in. I carried boxes and moved furniture until my leg screamed with pain and threatened to collapse.

  Ari caught me grimacing and leaning against the wall. “If your butt isn’t in a chair in the next two minutes,” she said, “I’m calling Stella.”

  “I’m okay,” I tried.

  She gave me her hard stare and crossed her arms. I started to say something else, but she held up her hand. “I’ll watch your man,” she said. “Butt in chair, now.”

  I wasn’t going to touch the “your man” comment, so I retreated to the living room and sank into one of the chairs we’d uncovered with a grateful sigh. My thigh felt like living fire. I silently admitted that I might have pushed myself too far.

  While resting, I enabled my neural links and connected to the net. The familiar hum of information in the back of my mind felt like reconnecting with a long-lost friend.

  I scanned the news, but there was no mention of the Kos Emperor’s escape. Commander Adams either hadn’t told his superiors or they were keeping it quiet. We needed to get Valentin home and into the news before Quint had time to launch an attack on Arx. One destroyer we could handle, but a full-on assault would flatten us.

  With that in mind, I checked my messages. And there, right on top, was a response from the Kos Empire. I read it twice, then sent a copy to the terminal in my office for safekeeping.

  The Kos Empire had just offered me ten million credits to kill Valentin Kos.

  I opened a neural link to Ari. Is at least one bedroom habitable?

  Yes, she replied. We’re working on the second one now.

  Don’t bother, I can sleep on the sofa. Please clear the suite and ask Valentin to join me in the living room. You might as well call Stella, too. I’ll need advice from both of you.