Tsar Wars: Agents of ISIS, Book 1

by Stephen Goldin

  * * *

  Judah walked down the long corridor, noting the doors on either side. He wondered what could be in this package that was so vital. Field reports from Kuznyetz’s admirals? Requests for last-minute instructions? Positions of Imperial Navy forces? Whatever it was, he’d have his hands on it before even Kuznyetz. Either he could destroy it so Kuznyetz wouldn’t get the information, or at least he could find a way of relaying it to Wettig as well. Either way, he was at last in a position to make a positive difference in the upcoming war.

  The numbers at this end of the hall began in the low 200s, so there was a significant distance to go before he reached door 278. The corridor did not branch off anywhere, even though it made several turns along the way, so there was no confusion about which way he needed to go.

  At last he reached door 278. He pressed the key to the lockplate in the wall. There was a faint click as the door unlatched and slid silently open. Judah walked into the room and the door slid shut behind him.

  The room was big and empty. There was no furniture at all, and the walls, ceiling and floor were pure white; the only spot of color was a bright red rectangular touchplate high up on the opposite wall, right where it met the ceiling. Unless Kuznyetz was expecting a giant, a touchplate that high was completely useless.

  No one was here right now, and Judah started pacing impatiently. He wanted to get this errand done and over with as soon as possible. He still had to get free of the palace and get word to Wetting about Kuznyetz’s true identity. He began to wonder whether it might have been a mistake after all to accept Kuznyetz’s summons, but it was too late now. Just wait it out and hope for the best.

  A large section of the wall slid rapidly open on the far side of the room. Judah’s blood ran cold when he saw what was coming through the portal: the pair of stone-cats he’d watched with Marya earlier. A hunting pair, she’d called them, and there was suddenly little doubt in Judah’s mind what they’d be hunting. Their yellow eyes glared at him with hungry intensity.

  Judah turned back to where he’d entered, but as he suspected the door had seamlessly joined with the wall, and pressing the key against the spot where the latch should be yielded no results. The door on the other side had already closed, and he was trapped in here with the stone-cats.

  Despite his fear he tried to think rationally. He’d watched the cats in action and knew how they operated, which was an advantage for him. Although he had his Zionian strength, they were equally as strong—and there were two of them. Their reflexes were almost as fast as his. But they operated on instinct, while he could use human thought. He hoped that would be enough.

  They split up as they approached him so they came from separate directions. Judah tried staring straight between them, letting his peripheral vision reveal their positions. He’d seen their technique; when one swung a paw at its prey, the victim instinctively backed away from the blow—straight into the claws of the second cat. The cats relied on the instincts of their prey. That would be their major weakness.

  The cat coming from his left swung its paw first, while the cat on his right waited almost a full second before making its swing, fully expecting him to leap into its grasp. Instead, Judah leaped toward the swinging claw of the first, arcing well over it to land beyond the stone-cat. Neither beast connected with its first blow.

  Judah landed with a dancer’s grace and quickly made a second leap. The first cat turned much faster than Judah would have hoped, but it was still slower than he was. He landed on the back of that first cat’s neck, and used his momentum to propel him into yet a third leap.

  The second cat had also whirled to swipe at him, but it also was a fraction of a second too slow. Instead of hitting Judah, its razor claws slashed into the skin of its mate’s neck, drawing blood and a howl of pain.

  Now the confined quarters actually worked to Judah’s advantage. The cats’ speed was largely neutralized by their lack of room to move. As they tried to pounce on their smaller prey they got in each other’s way and kept slashing one another. They would snarl and slash again—and each time their claws connected and did damage they became slightly slower.

  The trouble was, Judah was getting slower too. The constant leaping around the room was tiring him out—and it would only take one time being too slow and the cats would finally snare him. Even at this rate he was likely to be caught before the cats killed each other. He had to find a more permanent solution.

  As he leaped again, the bright red touchplate near the top of the wall caught the corner of his eye, and he realized that was his way out. He’d wondered why the plate was so high; it was out of an ordinary person’s reach—but a stone-cat sitting up on its haunches could reach it easily. And so could a Zionian trained in difficult dance leaps.

  Getting over to it was another matter. The room, which had seemed comfortably large when he was alone in it, was crowded now that the two large animals had joined him. There hardly seemed a moment when at least one of the cats wasn’t between him and the touchplate. It would be a very tricky maneuver in the three-dimensional motion of free-moving bodies for him to lure the cats into a position where they were both against the front wall while he had clear access to the back. And, at the same time, he had to keep his eyes focused on the cats’ claws. They had abandoned all hunting strategy, and were now just trying to get him any way they could.

  He darted, wove and leaped around the room, barely managing—sometimes by no more than a millimeter or two—to avoid the claws. He was doing impromptu choreography in his head, wishing Eva were here with him to distract the cats further. Together, the two of them could have made the stone-cats dizzy with frustration.

  Eventually he managed to get the positioning he wanted: the two animals were facing the front wall while he was, for the moment, behind them. That gave him the chance he needed—and he didn’t hesitate to take it.

  Leaping with his full strength—or what was left of it after the frantic activity so far—he leaped into the air and slapped the touchplate with his right hand. The leap also banged him against the wall and slammed him to the ground—but the door opened. Rolling in a fluid motion, he tumbled through the doorway into the passage beyond, and the door slid shut behind him just as the cats were turning around again.

  He couldn’t afford to rest, though. The cats had obviously been in that room before, and knew the trick to opening the door. It would now be a question of their basic behavior patterns. If they behaved like Earth cats, once the quarry was gone they might stop to lick their wounds before going on. They were cut and bleeding considerably, though he doubted any of the wounds were fatal, or even disabling. He couldn’t count on that, though. For all he knew, they might open the door again in just a second and come down this passageway to find him.

  He ran down the ramp, pushed at another touchplate, and went through the doorway into the caged area he’d seen before. It looked somehow more ominous, though, on this side of the bars.

  The bars were set fairly wide apart, since the stone-cats were large animals and couldn’t possibly squeeze through. The bars looked temptingly just wide enough to let him slip his stocky Zionian body through—but he got stuck when he tried. The bars were just a millimeter or so too close together, but that millimeter could kill him. Wedged tightly in there, he’d be easy prey for the stone-cats when they came out.

  He tried to think fast. What would Ilya Uzi do to quickly lose a millimeter or two? The idea came to him in a flash, and he’d have laughed out loud if he weren’t in such a hurry. Quickly he stripped off his uniform—tunic, slacks and boots—and threw them out of the cage through the bars. He was prepared to ditch the underwear if needed, but it turned out this was enough. He’d heard the phrase “The clothes make the man,” but in this case the clothes made the difference. With firm exhaling and some creative wiggling, he just managed to squeeze between the bars and out of the cage just as the stone-cats re-emerged behind him.

  He walked a few steps away, far enough that the
stone-cats couldn’t reach through the bars and snag him. Then he gathered his clothes and flopped down on the ground to get dressed again.

  Then suddenly the tension let go all at once, and he did burst out laughing. For more than a minute he rolled around on the ground laughing like a madman until tears came to his eyes. He imagined what a spectacle he must have made, sitting out there in his underwear. Fortunately, no one was there to see him; it was nighttime, and the grounds of the palace were deserted. Ships would be leaving to go off to the battles to come, and people would be much too busy to worry about a nearly naked man sitting on the ground in the zoo.

  He got himself under control again and put his clothes back on. Close escapes from vicious beasts were all well and good—but he still had a rebellion to stop, and he couldn’t do it sitting here.

  CHAPTER 11

  The Sisters Rostovy

  When Natalia woke the next morning, Eva was gone. Her heart nearly stopped as she realized how totally alone she truly was. Even though she’d fought it, she’d learned to rely on Eva as a rock in the flood waters carrying her along to doom.

  She panicked and looked wildly around, and that’s when she noticed the room’s monitor was blinking. Someone had left her a message, and only one person knew she was here. She fumbled quickly with the control to switch on the monitor.

  As Eva’s smiling face appeared on the screen, a wave of warm relief swept over the girl’s body. “Good morning, Your Majesty. I hope you slept well. I wanted to run a few errands and pick up some necessities. I should be back soon with my haul, so keep yourself entertained. Don’t leave the room unless it’s on fire. By the way, I figured out why you sleep alone—you snore pretty loud.”

  Natalia took a couple deep sighs of relief, and then began hoping that one of her savior’s errands was to get food. She’d never been so hungry in her entire life. It felt like a rat was gnawing at her stomach. A very determined rat.

  She turned on the news to distract herself. All the stations seemed filled with calamity. The tsar’s death. Fleets of ships seeming to converge on Earth from all directions at once, and attacking one another as well as planetary authorities. Locally, the rioting mobs who’d blown up Argosy and killed the beloved young tsaritsa. The Sovyet Knyazey calling an emergency plenary session in six days to deal with this unprecedented situation. Everything was in chaos, and she was becoming more and more convinced that it was somehow her fault.

  Finally the door slid open and Eva came through. She was wearing much more practical clothes than the torn-up gown she’d had last night, and she was struggling with an awkward collection of shopping bags. Natalia ran up to her and would have thrown her arms around her if she could have fought her was through the bags. “I was so scared,” the girl said. Then, prompted by her stomach, she blurted out, “Did you get any food?”

  Eva laughed. “Hello, I missed you, too. This bag over here, I think. Bread, cheese and deli meats. It’s not what you’re used to, but it’ll do for a nosh, better than chozzerai.”

  Natalia didn’t reply, just took the bag out of Eva’s hand. She started gnawing on a baguette eagerly, then finally slowed enough to combine the other ingredients. Eva waited until the girl had slowed down, then began assembling her own sandwich. For a while, the only sounds in the room were the munching of food and the droning of the news program.

  Finally Eva was satisfied enough to start talking again. “I suppose you’ve heard by now about the special meeting of the Sovyet Knyazey. That means we’ve got six days to make it back to Earth and restore you to the—”

  “About that,” Natalia interrupted suddenly. “I’ve been thinking. What if I don’t go back?”

  Eva stopped and looked at her. “What do you mean?” she asked slowly.

  “All this rebellion, all this fighting—it’s all my fault. People don’t want me on the throne. I’m not even sure I want me on the throne. I wouldn’t be any good at it. This is the perfect chance for me to leave it all behind. Everybody thinks I’m dead. Why don’t I let someone who wants the throne just have it?”

  Eve stood up and turned around so the girls couldn’t see her face. “And what about the rest of the Empire?”

  “They don’t want me. They’re rebelling against me!”

  “Just a few power-hungry schmucks,” Eva said gently. “The rest of the people are just scared and confused. They’ll follow anyone who offers them a way out of chaos. Have you heard what they’re calling you? ‘The beloved young tsaritsa.’“

  Natalia gave a bitter snort. “How can they love me? They don’t even know me!”

  Eva chuckled mirthlessly. “That only makes it easier. The fact that you’re dead helps, too. For all we know, the two princes in the Tower in Richard III were nasty little putzes—but they died young, which made them saints. The people love what you represent—order and stability. And if you show up now, they’ll rally around you with great cheers. Trust me.”

  “Everyone thinks I’m dead. Why not let it stay that way? I’d be a lousy tsaritsa, anyway. The Empire’ll be better off with someone else in charge.”

  Eva whirled around angrily to face her. “Do you really think so? Do you think the Empire will be better off fractured into a thousand little states? Do you think the Empire will be better off facing decades of civil war? Do you think the Empire will be better off with planets bombing one another into oblivion? Do you think the Empire will be better off under the rule of schmucks who are ready to let billions of people die to serve their own personal ambitions? Is that really what you think? Because that’s what’ll happen if people don’t have a strong symbol to rally behind—because right now, little girl, you’re the only one who can do that. You’re the only one standing between the Empire and chaos.”

  “NO!” Natalia screamed. She buried her head in a pillow, and for a while all Eva could hear was, “Why me? Why me? Why me?” over and over again.

  Her anger melted away, and she sat down beside the girl. “Well, you’re bound to do a better job than a momzer like Yevgheniy Kuznyetz, if that’s any consolation. Besides, a reluctance to take the throne is one good qualification for it. I can’t think of anyone who’d be better than you—except me, of course, but no one’s offering me the job.

  “Besides,” she added, growing more serious, “not everyone thinks you’re dead—or at least they won’t for long.”

  “But all the reports—”

  “Yeah, that’s what the traitors want people to think. But you can bet there’ve been top forensic specialists sifting through Argosy’s wreckage for the past few hours, looking for one particular body. And when they don’t find it, they’ll clamp down tight. Our only chance is to get off Languor before they do that.”

  “How do you know they haven’t already?”

  “I don’t, for sure. But they’re probably pretty confident no one could have escaped that blast alive. There’ve been no notices that outbound ships are being searched. We’ve got maybe a few hours, at most to get offplanet. Otherwise we’re stuck.”

  “But if I stay in hiding for the rest of my life, I won’t be any threat to them.”

  “You’ll always be a threat to them,” Eva said patiently. “Your very existence is a threat, whether you claim the throne or not. They won’t stop until they have absolute proof you’re dead.” She shook her head. “You can have no future as a private citizen. None.”

  Natalia’s eyes were drying now, but she said nothing. Her lower lip quivered a little, and Eva continued sympathetically, “You’ve been through more catastrophes in past few hours than an army of fourteen-year-old girls has any right to expect. Sure you’re scared and panicky. Who wouldn’t be? But you’re also a tsaritsa. I’ve seen that in your eyes, in your face, your voice. I know.”

  “How many tsaritsy have you known?” Natalia asked slowly.

  “You mean besides you?” Eva made a face of mock seriousness and silently ticked off the numbers on her fingers until Natalia laughed.

  Finally t
he girl made a deep sigh of acquiescence. “Da, what must I do?”

  “That’s my brave little trouper,” said Eva with a smile. “The show must go on. Sit over here on the edge of the bed. My future cousin-in-law’s a make-up artist, and she’s taught me all sorts of tricks to alter a face. Let’s see what I can do for you.”

  She reached into another of her shopping bags and pulled some of the beauty supplies she’d bought. She began by plucking Natalia’s normally dark eyebrows until the were thin and barely noticeable. She lightened the skin and made the eyelashes thinner and lighter. She worked around the eyes, lips and nose, making Natalia look more like a normal fourteen-year-old girl instead of a mature young debut ante. Natalia sat through the process stoically—but her eyes widened in horror when Eva pulled out the comb and scissors.

  “Not my hair!” she shrieked. “I’ve never had my hair cut!”

  “Well, this adventure is just full of firsts for you, isn’t it?”

  “It’ll take years to grow back!”

  “If I cut it shorter you might have those years to look forward to. Or you can die with long hair and be buried in an unmarked grave. Your choice. It’s not my fault you have the most recognizable face in the galaxy. You can always wear wigs later until it grows back, but it’s my job to keep you alive till then.”

  Natalia screwed her eyes tightly shut and gritted her teeth, and still made small shudders each time Eva’s scissors went snip. Even after Eva told her she could open her eyes again, the girl refused to look in the mirror.

  Eva sat silently for a moment, then took a deep breath and said, “If you made such a big fuss about your hair, you’re really gonna hate me now.”

  “What do you mean?” the girl asked warily.

  “Let me tell you about my Uncle Avram.”

  Natalia looked at her strangely. “What about him?”