Impact Velocity (The Physics of Falling)

by Leah Petersen

  He eyed me, a smile twitching at his mouth and shining in his eyes. I watched as he tried to sober his expression.

  “Ahh, Jacob,” he said. “I wish I could say it is a pleasure to see you again. But I am afraid it is profoundly distressing. I have dreaded the day I would have to look into the face of a man I trusted, who took good care of my grandson, and see the face of a murderer.” He sighed. “A man who would murder his emperor, his own husband.”

  He shook his head. “I must say, it is impressive that you managed to avoid the imperial security forces so long. You must have been building up this network of informers, traitors, and bolt holes for some time. Tell me, Jacob, how long had you been planning to kill the emperor?”

  I would have dearly loved to have been able to speak. At the same time, I was almost grateful to Sam for the blocker. I had a bad record when it came to situations like this. I stared him down, not flinching. He looked away and spread his arms wide.

  “You planned quite an event to celebrate the birthday of the emperor you murdered. All over the empire! And, while I thought Lord Naganika understood the instructions to direct the people to celebrate in their homes today,” he cast a withering glare at Naganika, “because I would hate for loyal citizens to be caught up in any unrest you have planned, this might well work out best for everyone.

  “The traitors will be identified, bringing themselves willingly to where our forces wait for them, but also serving as proof for the loyal. They will see with their very eyes that the empire will always protect them and never countenance such treason.”

  He nodded to Naganika. “Shall we watch?”

  Naganika gestured to a man standing nearby and projection vids began to appear all around the room. On each one was a view of a different city center, some sparsely populated with a nervous crowd, some packed and overflowing, the air vibrant and restless. Surrounding each of them was a wall of armed ISS troops. My face stiffened. Of course, I’d prepared myself for that to happen, but I was supposed to be there. Pete talked about the power of symbols.

  Some symbol I made now.

  Laudley grinned at me like a predator. “Now, let us see what we can do.”

  His image appeared in the bottom corner of every screen, and in each city, a projection of him came alive on each side of the crowd.

  “Citizens of the empire,” he said. “Do not be afraid. The soldiers are there for your protection. The traitor prince tried to fool you, but rest assured, I understand that in this time of tragedy and crisis it was easy to misunderstand and become confused. Those of you who peacefully surrender now will be granted forgiveness and amnesty from your imperial ruler. You will allowed to go home.”

  The people in the crowds began to look around at each other. No one moved.

  “Your cause is futile,” he continued, and the view expanded to include me on my knees before him, shackled and silenced. I glared at him, but it was a powerless gesture. “The day is already lost.”

  In what looked like Mexico City there was a stir near the steps of the governor’s residence, gasps and cries as the people pulled back to allow someone to emerge from the crowd and climb to the top step. It was me.

  “Citizens of the empire!” he shouted. I knew that voice and shivered hard all over. “I am not Prince Jacob.” With a shimmer, the image of me disappeared and Jonathan stood in my place. I wanted to cry with relief and at the same time yell at him for turning his shield off.

  “Citizens of the empire,” he repeated, his voice quieter but pitched to carry over the watching crowd. Around the throne room, the vids blinked and Jonathan filled them all. Laudley froze.

  “What is happening?”

  Naganika looked pale. “I don’t know, Your Grace.”

  “Find out!”

  Naganika left the room, gesturing for several other men to follow him.

  “I am not Prince Jacob,” Jonathan said again. “Though I am honored he sent me here to speak on his behalf.” There were hundreds of ISS within range of him but no one moved.

  “He would have been here today, but,” he gestured to the screens that still showed the image of Laudley and me, “he cannot. The Grand Duke Laudley murdered our emperor, kidnapped the royal children, and now he has taken and tortured Prince Jacob, with the goal of forcing him to confess falsely to the murder of the emperor and husband he loved.”

  In the opposite corner of each screen, images of the other cities appeared again. They watched on their own vids as the tableau played out. In one of them, another me ascended the steps of the mayor’s mansion.

  “I am not Prince Jacob,” he said, deactivating the blinder that had projected my image. “We all are.”

  “I am not Prince Jacob.” In another city, a woman appeared. “We all are.”

  “I am not Prince Jacob.” Like the chorus of a children’s song sung in the round, the declarations sounded and echoed across the vids, in city after city. I was fighting tears. I glanced at Laudley. His face was red.

  “Stop them!” he shouted.

  In a city I didn’t recognize, a soldier stepped forward and began to fire into the crowd. People shrieked and screamed and began to scatter, but another soldier tackled him from behind, wrenching the gun out of his hands. He pointed the gun at the man on the ground. I couldn’t hear what he said, but the guard who had started the shooting didn’t try to get up.

  It was only one such scene. In some places the soldiers began shooting into the crowd and the people scattered. I saw at least one “Prince Jacob” crumple to the ground. In other cities, the people rushed the soldiers, disarming them before a shot could be fired.

  In some, the ISS forces raised their hands, surrendering their guns to the first citizen in range. It was chaos, and at times I wasn’t sure who was winning. I kept my eyes locked on Jonathan. Stupid, brave, beloved Jonathan who had turned his shield off and was standing above the crowd, a perfect target.

  Jonathan, who stared straight at me and said, “Don’t worry, Prince Jacob, we’re coming for you.”

  Do you think she’ll be born at night or in the morning?

  Or in the afternoon?

  That, too.

  Does it matter?

  Do you think we can do this?

  Bit late to be asking that now.

  iv54

  Somewhere in the back of my attention I realized Laudley was screaming.

  “Turn them off. Turn them off!” White faced palace officials were scrambling, looking befuddled and afraid. The vids didn’t change.

  Gasps began to ripple through the room and I turned my head to see Owen and Molly running toward me. Molly threw her arms around me so hard that only the steadying hand of the guard kept me upright.

  “Daddy!” She cried hot tears into my neck. My arms were still shackled in front of me, trapped between us, but I bent my head over hers, cheek against cheek, and breathed in the scent of my little girl. She squeezed harder until I almost couldn’t breathe. Then, with a jerk, she pulled away from me and rushed Laudley.

  He sat unmoving, wide eyed, as people scrambled to get out of the way of their princess, a darting, determined midget. She slammed into him, pounding her fists on his knees, tears streaming down her face.

  “You’re a bad man and I hate you!” she screamed, flailing at him like a furious tornado. “Let my daddy go!”

  Laudley was watching her, thin lipped, his expression dark. She punched his leg one last time before she rushed back to me, throwing her arms around my neck, burying her face in my shoulder.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m sorry,” she gasped around a huge sniffle. “Papa would have fixed it but I don’t know how. I don’t know how!”

  I looked up at Sam. His expression was hard as stone. His hand went to his pocket and he produced the remote for the silencing device. He held it up for me to see and then dropped it. With a tink
ling like chimes it hit the marble floor and he stepped on it, his heavy boot muffling the crunch. The tingling in my jaw stopped suddenly and my mouth nearly dropped open. I levered myself to my feet and turned to a guard behind me, holding out my hands.

  “Dhal, will you unlock these please?”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, the guard activated the release and the restraints fell away. He knelt to remove the leg shackles as well.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Still kneeling before me, Dhal said, “It’s my honor, Your Highness. Long live the empress.”

  I searched for Owen. He was standing a little off to the side, behind Molly, pale, his lips pinched together. I rushed the few steps between us and gathered him in my arms, pulling Molly in too.

  “Owen,” I breathed into his hair. He was trembling. “I told you I’d come for you.” He threw his arms around me, head-butting me in the stomach he hugged me so hard. I just squeezed back. “I’ll always come for you.”

  “What are they doing here!” Laudley’s voice was a pale echo in the background that didn’t intrude on my moment. “I ordered them kept away!”

  A servant came to stand before me. “I’m glad you made it, Dawes.”

  I grinned, searching his face and knowing it for what it was.

  “Thank you. I suppose I have you to thank for bringing the children?” He smiled, and the image dissolved, revealing Blaine standing before me.

  My triumphal return to the palace was far less triumphal and much more a return than I ever expected.

  iv55

  Gasps and startled cries filled the room. I found Laudley, his expression hard and murderous.

  “Enough,” I said, clear and steady. “It’s over, Laudley.”

  Laudley laughed. “And yet look where I sit, Blaine, and where you stand.” He jerked a nod at the guards. “Take him.”

  No one moved. Dawes glanced back at the guard captain, who met his gaze and held it. Something passed between them that I didn’t understand.

  “Thank you,” Dawes said to him.

  The guard captain bowed his head. “Your Highness.”

  I approached Laudley, registering the way Dawes stepped up beside me, the princess clutching his hand with both of hers. Owen stood on the other side of her, farthest from me, and I refused to be distracted by what that might mean.

  “You’ve lost, Laudley,” I said, gesturing to the crowd of assembled nobles and other observers. “They’ve all seen. They understand now that you’ve been lying to them. I don’t think any one of them will be surprised when I produce the proof that you orchestrated the murder of the emperor. They see now what the children already knew, that you’re, to quote the princess, a ‘bad man.’”

  He scoffed. “Children.”

  “You can speak so disrespectfully of your future sovereign,” I said, shaking my head. “Because you never intended for her to rule. How easily you give yourself away. I thought you were a better schemer than that. I suppose it’s difficult watching it fall apart around you.” For a moment I actually pitied him. “You killed an emperor for nothing. There’s no way to manipulate your way into a throne anymore. You won’t even be able to manipulate yourself out of a beheading now.”

  “Arrest him,” Dawes said, his voice cold and quiet, but I doubt a person in the room missed it. The guards didn’t hesitate, advancing on Laudley.

  “Stop!” Laudley commanded, but he was ignored. They surrounded him, a man on each side taking an arm to haul him upright. “Unhand me!” There was a scuffle and suddenly I caught a clear glimpse of Laudley, a gun in his hand, pointed directly at Dawes.

  ***

  “No!” The shout was loud in my ears. Everything happened as if time had frozen, and then kicked into overdrive. A blur passed in front of me just as the zing of an energy weapon registered. I looked down to find the guard captain lying at Dawes’ feet, a hole charred in his uniform just above his heart. His eyes were locked on the prince.

  Dawes fell to his knees beside him, gathering him close like a child. “Sam!”

  Sam’s reply was soft and strained. “Finally,” he said.

  “What are you talking about?” Dawes demanded, his voice cracking.

  “It was always supposed to be me. All those times I failed.” His breaths were harsh and stuttering. “I finally got it right.” He groaned but held Dawes’ gaze. “He would have approved, I think.”

  “Stop that. He never blamed you. Not for any of it.”

  “I know. He should have, though.” His smile was just a flicker before he spasmed, his eyes rolling back. He went limp and still.

  Dawes shook him. “Damn you!” he yelled, his voice cracking. “You can’t die.”

  Princess Marquilla stood beside him, petting his hair again and again. “It’s OK, Daddy. He was very brave.”

  Dawes looked up at Laudley, murderous hatred contorting his face. “Take him to the prison!”

  Laudley struggled against the guards. “Do you really think this is over? You cannot win. Unclass scum and a tarnished noble who spent too long among them. Your dirty friends in the streets might make for a pretty show, but the power in the empire is here, and you two together are less than nothing. Do you think anyone with a history and bloodline and any pride will stand behind you?”

  “I think,” I said, “Grand Duke Laudley, that in matters of high treason the word of the empress is final. And she’s made clear her opinion of you.”

  His face contorted in rage. “Fool!”

  But if he said anything more, it was lost in the echoes as he was hauled from the room. I looked down at Dawes, still cradling the body of the guard captain, both children plastered to him. I didn’t want to see but I forced myself not to turn away.

  “We’ve won, Dawes. You and me together. Isn’t life strange?”

  I spent a lot of time alone in the days following Laudley’s downfall. The world had been remade, and I with it. I needed to figure out what sort of man I was to be now.

  iv56

  I quietly took a room in the Family Wing. I was offered a better one, but I asked for the one farthest from the emperor’s rooms and was given it.

  I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was…alone. I didn’t know what else I was or wasn’t. I had no place, no purpose.

  My son was with Dawes. That was his own choice. I hadn’t asked him to do otherwise; I couldn’t bear the fear in his eyes when he looked at me. I spent days cloistered with my loneliness and my fears. Then the message arrived.

  ***

  I arrived an hour early for my appointment to meet my son. I stood on the beach watching the roll of the waves, wishing my nervousness could be so easily washed away. I began to set up my things and sat down to wait.

  I’d allowed no servant to come with me, but I found the simple acts of unpacking my paints and brushes, and setting up the tripod and canvas soothing in their familiarity. I distracted myself with the soft scrape of brush on canvas, the kaleidoscope of colors on the palate, the sharp smell of the paints contrasting the salt-and-mineral smell of the sea.

  Some sound or sensation alerted me to their presence and I turned to find Dawes and Owen standing nearby, watching me. Owen was holding Dawes’ hand, not trailing behind him, exactly, but keeping Dawes between himself and me. I stood, locking my knees.

  “Hello, Owen.” The words came out in no more than a whisper. He was pale, watching me with his eyes wide, but his cheeks pinked, as if he understood how hard this was for me as well.

  “We can come later if this is a bad time,” Dawes said.

  The words were ostensibly for me, but the way he angled his body and turned his head toward Owen made it clear he was giving the boy a way out if the reality of confronting the beast was more terrifying than he’d bargained for. My heart squeezed painfully.

  “Is this a ba
d time, Owen?” I asked.

  He shook his head without taking his eyes off me. Dawes examined me, his expression asking some question I didn’t understand.

  The words came tumbling out of me, as if I couldn’t help myself. “You look so much like your mother. Has anyone ever told you that?”

  He nodded, his hand tightening on Dawes’. I wiped my sweaty hands on my pants. Owen stepped closer and I froze, waiting, but he wasn’t looking exactly at me.

  “It’s the shells.”

  I sat down again in front of my painting, giving us both something else to focus on and some relief from the awkwardness for a moment.

  “Yes. It’s not a faithful rendering, though.”

  I’d been painting the tiny bivalves at the edge of the water that submerged ahead of each wave, surfacing again when it passed only to burrow into the sand again before the next one. They were mostly blues and purples and faint yellows, but I’d painted them differently. Deep reds and vibrant oranges, bright yellows, crisp greens, shaded just right to contrast the rich blue of the water and the dark, damp sand.

  “I like it better this way,” he said. I opened my mouth to apologize but then I realized he was turned toward the painting, not the shells burrowing back into the sand beneath his bare toes.

  “Thank you,” I answered. “Do you like to draw?”

  I saw him nod out of the corner of my eye. “Yes. And paint too.”

  “I hear you play music as well.”

  I believe he nodded again but I wouldn’t allow myself to turn and look at him, for fear of frightening him away.

  “Your mother played the piano.”

  He went very still. “Daddy told me.”

  My heart dropped at the name but I knew I was being foolish, thinking that would ever change.

  “Sometimes, when I would paint,” I said, “your mother would sit nearby playing the piano. They’re some of the best memories I have.”