by Susan Grant
She was in the bath, and Kyber was on the wall. Holo-communication was two-way. Didn’t he know how to knock?
His eyes found her. “Ah. There you are, Banzai.” He was decked out in full royal regalia: black clothes, topped by a black cape that flowed over his shoulders and swept the floor. Scraped back from his face, his hair poured from a platinum-and-sapphire tube, flowing in a shimmering ponytail over one shoulder.
Bree ducked low in the water. Her hair, dripping wet, hung around her shoulders. “I’m naked.”
“I do not mind.”
“I do!”
Kyber looked her up and down. “The water hides you.”
“It does now. It didn’t five seconds ago.”
“Then I am five seconds too late.”
He acted so matter-of-fact that Bree had to laugh. As usual, he didn’t get it. He was a prince, used to going wherever he wanted, when he wanted, and, apparently, playing voyeur through two-way televisions when he wanted. “Next time warn me. Clothing may not be important to the other women in your palace, but it is to me.”
He inclined his head in what appeared to be an apology. “As you are important to me, Banzai.” He waved behind him, where she could see throngs of people celebrating the holiday. The dusk made it difficult to tell what they were doing, but they sounded happy. “I will be done here soon. Within the half hour. I invite you to watch the fireworks and parade from my balcony.”
Damn. Dr. Park was right. “Sure, Kyber. I’ll get dressed.”
He waited.
“After you sign off,” she hinted.
His mouth tipped roguishly. “Very well.” He dipped his head in a small bow, and the screen went black.
Bree dressed quickly in her usual soft close-fitting outfit and boots. She donned a light jacket and fastened the travel pack to a belt, spinning it around to hide it behind her waist. It was time, she hoped, to meet the shadows. Unfortunately, it looked like she’d be doing it right under Prince Kyber’s nose.
* * *
The noise from below the balcony sounded like thunder. Kyber greeted his people with fists pumping in the air. “Long live our kingdom!” he shouted, and Bree heard the answering calls from the crowd.
She watched him from the door to the balcony. Milky starlight edged his tall frame, turning Kyber into an ethereal being, a legendary prince from a fairy-tale kingdom. Toward the west, the light was almost gone from the sky. It would be a good night for fireworks.
And if that were all she witnessed tonight, if the night passed without shadows, then she would fall back on an alternate plan. That is, she would fall back on one as soon as she came up with it.
Bree alternated between disappointment and nervous anticipation as she watched palace staffers and society hangers-on flow in and out of Kyber’s apartment and the balcony. Goblets of wine and other spirits made the rounds, passed out by servants dressed in outfits of every color in the rainbow, the clothing decorated with gems that Bree guessed were priceless if someone were to pluck, pool, and calculate them.
A hush momentarily came over the people crowded around her, and an entourage swept past, leaving behind trails of glitter dust and whiffs of exotic perfumes. On the balcony, Kyber turned around. “Mother,” he said. His smile faltered a fraction. Bree wondered if anyone else noticed.
Queen Corrine of the Hans had arrived. Wrapped in a bejeweled sari and head-scarf, her slim frame looked fragile. But one glimpse of flawless skin told Bree that this was no old woman.
Bree had long wondered about the queen. She knew Kyber’s parents lived in the palace, but she’d never seen either one leave the wing in which they existed in voluntary, virtual isolation. But tonight’s events must be important enough for the queen to come out of seclusion.
A male escort supported the queen by the arm, but her gait was sure and strong. “Kyber,” she said, her voice low and honeyed. Her smooth and slender hand grasped Kyber’s, and he led her to the front of the balcony. The woman threw back her scarf, revealing the perfect profile of a goddess. Tendrils of long brown hair lifted and floated in the breeze as she laughed and waved to the adoring crowds. Gorgeous, graceful, and composed, the queen was obviously the source of a lion’s share of the genes responsible for Kyber’s good looks.
Bree stood in the background as the cheers rose to a crescendo. A hand came to rest on her shoulder. She jumped, startled, but it was only a server offering a glass of wine. She almost didn’t take it, but changed her mind. It would make her look like everyone else. She didn’t drink, though. If her chance to get Tyler Armstrong and leave with him came as Joo-Eun promised, she wanted all her wits about her.
There was a deep, muffled sound outside, like the slamming of a giant car door. Another boom followed, and Bree heard the crowd cheer. Sparkles in the colors of the kingdom’s flag filled the night sky. The fireworks had begun.
Then, the lights in Kyber’s apartment went out. For a moment, they flickered on again, as if a secondary source attempted to supply power, but the rooms plunged into darkness. Everyone gasped, but no one screamed. And then the guests laughed, as if it was part of the celebration. Bree knew better. The arrival of darkness meant only one thing: The shadows were finally here.
* * *
Eighteen slashes marred the wall above the filthy dungeon floor. Maybe his father had decided to abandon him here after all, Ty thought as he settled down to sleep propped up against the wall. The floor was wetter tonight than usual, perhaps because the days were cooling off outside, and after waking shivering and soaked the night before, he’d decided not to repeat the experience. He’d worked out as best he could over the past trying weeks, keeping his muscles strong, even when the lack of food sapped his energy. He lived in hope of release; and if not release, then escape. But so far, neither chance had come, which brought his thoughts back to his father.
Ty wouldn’t blame the general for wanting to disown his only son. Ty’s aborted treasure hunt would be an international embarrassment, and an expensive one at that. Kyber had made no secret of the fact that he’d found Ty’s UV anchored to the rocks beneath the entrance to the cave. Yes, the UV had a security setting designed to destroy the cockpit should anyone without an access code decide to commandeer it, a feature added in response to the subs they’d lost during the Pirate Wars—but Kyber hadn’t said anything about the Sea Snake blowing up. Either way, its loss was an expensive one—and humiliating. Ty’s father would not be pleased.
All the more reason to steal Banzai from Kyber and bring her back to the UCE, where she belonged, Ty decided. His personal feelings for her aside, Banzai Maguire was a shining symbol of all that made the UCE great. Once home, she’d make appearances, motivate the population, inspire the United Colonies of Earth to aim for even more preeminence in the world. And then Ty’s father would see that his son’s actions were not as irresponsible as they appeared.
Ty rubbed his hands over his face and scratchy beard. Fantasies were fine and good, but dreaming of taking Banzai home with him? He might as well wish for Rocket-man’s “shadows.”
“Look for the shadows! When they come, run!”
Sure, Ty thought, laying his head back against the wall. As his eyes closed, he decided to entertain himself with a fantasy that was even more far-fetched: his pretty little pearl, Banzai Maguire herself, showing up at his cell door to rescue him from Kyber’s dungeon, a vision that certainly merited further reflection, if for the entertainment value alone.
Ty chuckled and let his chin fall to his chest. At least this night he’d fall asleep with a smile on his face.
* * *
Kabul, Kyber’s security adviser, pushed through the throngs of people blocking the entrance to the balcony, his mouth drawn back in a snarl of a frown. Bree knew then that the blackout was more than an annoyance; it was a legitimate situation. Joo-Eun must have known it was coming, or she wouldn’t have told her to wait for the shadows.
A hand landed on Bree’s shoulder. “No, thanks,” she said autom
atically, turning around, “I already have wine.”
But it wasn’t a wine server who’d tapped her. It was Joo-Eun. “It is time,” the girl said softly.
Bree’s heart did an aileron roll. She nodded and set her goblet on a nearby table. Joo-Eun walked away, and Bree followed. No one would think anything of her leaving with her lady’s maid. And, in fact, no one looked at them at all. All eyes were on the fireworks, and those couples that weren’t watching the show were in corners or against walls, stealing kisses in the amusement and confusion of the blackout. And Kyber, well, he was still sidetracked by his high-maintenance mama. For a fleeting moment, Bree felt sorry for him, trapped with no hope of escape in this odd world, composed of equal parts make-believe and mind-boggling responsibility.
Joo-Eun led Bree to the trapdoor in Kyber’s floor, where he’d dropped her the first time she’d come to his room. His escape route. Joo-Eun lifted the door wide enough to allow her through. Bree dropped to the mat below. Hanging in an incredible feat of gymnastics, Joo-Eun shut the door behind her before falling to the mat next to Bree.
Joo-Eun pressed her finger to her mouth and took off running. Bree had to work to keep up in the darkness of the underground tunnels. She had the feeling that if she lost Joo-Eun, the girl wasn’t coming back for her. If the blackout was a preplanned terrorist event, Joo-Eun had risked much by returning in the middle of it to take Bree to the dungeon so she could free Armstrong and escape the palace before the lights came back on. Of course, no one would have expected this of the shy and slow-witted little clone.
Bree saw a blue-silver glow ahead. The magcycle tracks. But the glow was soon lost when Joo-Eun veered away. The girl put her full weight into pushing open a heavy door, grunting with the effort.
“Let me help.” Bree pressed her hands on the door and pushed.
“When the power went off, so did the computer assist on all the doors,” Joo-Eun explained.
The door opened. A tidal wave of stench almost bowled Bree over. She slapped her hand over her nose and mouth. “Ugh! What is that?”
“Where your UCE man lives.”
Joo-Eun disappeared down a staircase. Bree followed, her eyes watering from the smell. She didn’t want to know what it was, but it was the worst thing she’d ever smelled.
If this was what dungeons smelled like, she was glad she’d never been imprisoned in one.
The air grew thicker and more humid as they rounded the second staircase and descended into hell. Their boots made sucking noises on the stone floor, covered in a coating of something wet and sticky. Just...don’t...fall.
Joo-Eun stopped suddenly. Bree plowed into her back, almost putting them both on the floor. Joo-Eun steadied her and slid glasses over Bree’s face. Suddenly, the features of the underground came into focus, outlined in soft green. Night-vision goggles. She could see in the dark!
“When you go, use the magtrack,” Joo-Eun told her.
“But the power’s out.”
“The Halbach arrays still work.”
The motion of the magcycle created inductive current, Kyber had said. No wonder it was his escape route.
“The shadows will await you at station eight. Do not be late. They will take you to New Seoul.”
“Seoul? But I don’t want to—”
Joo-Eun held up a finger. “Go to the Cheju Precinct. In the Celadon, shadows will find you.” The clone threw a sack hanging from a strap around Bree’s neck. “Do not lose this.”
The girl took a step away, and then she was gone.
Bree heard nothing but her rapid breaths over the distant dripping of water and the squeaks of mice or rats. It was dark. And she was alone. Panic clutched at her chest. “Joo-Eun?” Her respiration doubled. Bree whispered louder, “Joo-Eun.”
No one answered. She was on her own.
Only sissies are afraid of the dark.
Bree felt like waving her hand and announcing, “Okay, I admit it. I’m a sissy. Now, someone turn on the lights, please.”
But she pressed the goggles to her face, and convinced her eyes that she could indeed see in the dark. And if she could see, it wasn’t really dark, was it?
With a shaky breath, Bree tore open the sack Joo-Eun had left her and reached inside. Her fingers closed around something cold and compact. She withdrew it and looked at the greenish object sitting in her palm. A pistol.
Finally, she had some real protection. Bree smiled. Sorry, Cam. Joo-Eun’s my new best friend.
With the night-vision goggles lighting her way, and the pistol providing cover, she pressed her back against the wall and checked for guards before taking off for the dungeon. It wasn’t hard to find the way. She just headed where the stink was the worst.
Chapter Fourteen
In his sleep, Ty felt something warm cover his mouth. Instantly, he was alert. He threw his hand over the fingers covering his lips, grabbed the wrist, and flung his attacker to the stone floor, falling over him. He’d barely registered the fact that the hand was slender and small and not the burly one of a guard when something hard thrust into his balls.
“Ooph!” His hips jerked upward as hot pain blossomed out from ground zero. His eyes watered. His attacker wriggled out from under his body. He grabbed for an arm, missed, and barely blocked the fist headed for his face. He used his assailant’s arm to throw him onto his back—and came eye-to-eye with a very angry female in night-vision goggles.
“You idiot,” she seethed. “I’m getting you out.”
“Who are you?”
“Banzai.” She gasped for air.
“Banzai?” He stared down at her in the dark. He couldn’t see her eyes. But that mouth ...he recognized the lips. “Banzai Maguire?”
“No. The other Banzai.” She took one look at his expression of confusion and groaned. “Of course it’s me! Who else would it be? And what’s this stuff on the floor? Let me up!”
He felt her pelvis move under his aching groin. He lifted his buttocks, but not because the sensation was painful; he didn’t want any more blood flowing into that sore spot than there needed to be.
She pushed him aside and sat up. An expression of revulsion crossed her face as she held out a sodden strand of hair and looked at it. “Gross. Tell me this isn’t sewage.”
“Whatever it is, I haven’t died from it yet.”
“Okay, let’s save the mud-wrestling for later. We’ve got to get out of here before they get the power back on.” She jumped to her feet.
“Wait. Slow down. Take two seconds to explain to me what’s going on, and I promise you I’ll listen.”
“You used up your two seconds when you threw me into that shit.” She appeared to struggle to control her temper before answering. “There’s some kind of terrorist attack going on. The power’s out. I’m not sure about the security systems, but I haven’t seen a single guard.”
“They’re never around at night.”
“Well, they might show up if they find out the cell doors are unlocked. I just pushed yours open and walked in.”
And found me dead asleep, Ty thought. What kind of soldier was he? “Let’s not give them the chance.”
“Glad to see we’re on the same page.”
“Same page ...”He shook his head. He was a devotee to old Americana and he still didn’t understand half the phrases she used.
“It means we’re on the same wavelength. Oh, just forget it. I have slang problems.”
She ran off; he jogged after her. Banzai’s night-vision goggles allowed her to navigate through the darkness; he had to concentrate to keep her in sight.
“We take a magcycle to station eight,” she said. “There, the people helping us will be waiting. Supposedly, they’ll be able to get us off the palace grounds.”
“Supposedly? You mean you don’t know?”
Banzai threw a scathing glance over her shoulder. “They got us this far, right?”
Ty wasn’t inclined to argue.
She led him up the same stairs and along
the same corridors that he’d traveled when the guards had escorted him for a shave and haircut.
“This way.” She bolted toward a swath cut into the stone floor. Ty squinted along the track to where it disappeared around a curve. “There’s no car.”
“We’ll have to call it.” Banzai felt along the wall until she found a control panel. She pressed the icon and nothing happened. Her breaths were ragged as her head fell forward. “It’s not coming. Maybe I need a code.”
“All you need is power.”
Her arm dropped. “And we don’t have that.” She thought for a moment. “If the magcycle won’t come to us, we’ll have to go to it. Kyber told me he has three. One’s parked under his apartment.”
“Hmm. Pick another one. You have the goggles. Which way?”
She looked right, then left. “With a fifty-fifty chance of getting it wrong, I say…this way.” And off she went, Ty on her heels.
They ran along the tracks, glowing faintly with what Ty guessed was a residual charge, or perhaps an independent source of backup power.
They had been running for a good fifteen or twenty minutes when Ty started thinking of alternate plans. Find a door leading outside, and get through it before the power returned and locked them in. As he jogged, he noted the location’s possible exits. He was about to suggest they try one when the tracks came to a loop. Tucked into a parking space against the wall was a vehicle.
Banzai bent over, her hands propped on her knees. Her hair hung dankly over her shoulders. Sweat made her pale skin shine. “There it is,” she gasped. “The magcycle.”
Ty was already walking around it, giving it a good look-over. The vehicle was a work of technological art, sleek and compact.
Banzai jumped into the driver’s seat. “Somewhere there’s a way to drive it using this handlebar. I watched Kyber do it.”