Empress Game 2

by Rhonda Mason

  She reminded Kayla of one of the separatist leaders from Ordoch’s southeastern continent.

  If Gi’s presence was curious, the attendance of both the Low Divine of Falanar and Commander Parrel—a high-ranking officer in the IDC and Malkor’s superior—was extraordinary. Parrel had frowned upon seeing Kayla when he entered, reminding her that while he respected and trusted Malkor, he was certainly no fan of hers. He looked stern and alert amidst the politicians and the Low Divine. His indigo IDC uniform was precise, every millimeter of jade piping along the seams aligned perfectly, the bars of his rank polished to a shine.

  When the Low Divine had arrived, General Yislan had bowed low and risen to escort her to a chair as if the young woman couldn’t cross the distance of ten meters on her own. The pale fifteen-year-old looked delicate in a gown of gold lamé. The cap sleeves, rounded neckline and belted waist suited her trim figure perfectly, while the skirt flowed to the floor and trailed behind her like a river. The image, no doubt calculated to the last detail, evoked ancient goddesses and reverence.

  Very well done, Kayla admitted to herself.

  How Raorin had persuaded the Low Divine to attend she couldn’t imagine. Raorin was famous for his opposition to the prevailing religion among the Sovereign Planets. On Falanar, the Low Divine’s religious authority was third only to the Mid and High Divines’, and the girl made no secret of disliking Raorin. Maybe the sheer novelty of him requesting her presence had intrigued the Low Divine enough to attend.

  “Thank you all for coming this morning,” Raorin said. “I appreciate the chance to speak with you before the Sovereign and Protectorate Councils convene their emergency sessions today.”

  “Of course,” Councilor Siminia said, “but perhaps you could make it brief? I have meetings with my staff to finish.” Kayla liked Siminia. She was brisk, efficient and effective—much like Isonde was.

  Is. Much like Isonde is. Isonde would get better—she had to.

  Raorin inclined his head. “I’ll come to the point then. The topic on all of our minds is the Tetratock Nanovirus; its spread and its possible eradication. Prince Trebulan’s attempted release of the TNV at the Empress Game has finally, I’m convinced, made real the deadly nature of this threat to the Sovereign Council. We can’t continue to pretend this plague is limited to the Protectorate Planets.

  “Fear still rages on Falanar in the aftermath of the event. Those who were present took that fear home with them when they returned to their planets. I want to turn that fear into something positive: action. I want to use that frightened energy to drive our efforts to stop the TNV.”

  Siminia nodded in agreement. No one else spoke, letting him come to the point.

  “Our best hope for a cure to the TNV still lies with the Wyrds and their advanced understanding of nanotechnology.” Raorin shifted his gaze among those gathered, expressing his earnestness. “Now is the time to push the councils, to move for a full withdrawal from Ordoch. Only with the Wyrds’ cooperation can we hope to end this plague. I gathered you here because I feel that a concerted effort on our parts can make this happen.”

  Kayla couldn’t quite follow the intricacies behind Raorin’s choice of “allies,” not the way Isonde would have, but she approved of the plan.

  General Yislan was the first to speak, as always. She couldn’t fault his motives, driven as he was by a strong belief in the immorality of the empire’s actions on Ordoch. Damn if he wasn’t a pious, pompous hardliner, though. In Kayla’s opinion, his value came from being one of the few members—or former members—of the imperial army willing to speak against the occupation of Ordoch.

  “Whatever must be done to free the people of Ordoch,” Yislan said, “we must do. The indignities they’ve suffered at our hands are too much to bear, and we have a moral obligation to see the occupation ended.” He directed his words to Gi as if imparting a lecture.

  Damn. Kayla could really use her psionic powers right now. She’d never regained them since the night of her family’s death. What had Raorin been thinking, bringing Gi into this? And what was Gi’s reaction to Yislan’s tone?

  “Quite so,” Raorin said. “There’s more to it than that, though.”

  Yislan looked ready to object so Raorin continued without pause. “Siminia, I’m sure you can speak to the staggering amount of resources needed to maintain the occupation on Ordoch. Your planet has, since the beginning, been a major contributor of combat gear and defensive technologies for the army, among other things.”

  “That’s true,” Siminia said. “We’re of course happy to do our duty to the empire, but we could use those resources at home. Especially if some of the Protectorate Planets are heading toward conflict, as they look to be.”

  Raorin switched his attention to Commander Parrel. “It’s no secret that the IDC resented the Council of Seven’s decision to end the diplomatic mission on Ordoch and initiate the coup. Since the takeover, the IDC’s ‘official stance’ has been one of support for the occupation. You’ve never publicly agreed it was the right decision, interestingly.”

  “We want what’s best for the empire.” Parrel offered the well-worn line without inflection.

  “Exactly,” Raorin said. “And what’s best for the empire is to withdraw from Ordoch. Councilor Siminia mentioned the growing hostilities between some of the Protectorate Planets. The IDC does what they can diplomatically to ease the situation, but sometimes it takes the presence of the imperial army to enforce the peace—an army which is spread too thinly among the planets, now that the bulk of our forces are needed to hold Ordoch.

  “Add to that the panic from Trebulan’s attempt. Suddenly everyone feels vulnerable to the TNV. Who knows what might happen in the face of such fear? Who knows who might take advantage of the lack of a military presence in the chaos? The IDC’s mission of diplomacy would be much aided by the return of the bulk of the imperial army.”

  The Low Divine spoke, her childlike voice an odd counterpoint to the weighty issues being discussed. “I see no need for me to be here for such a meeting. I care not for politics; the Unity of our people is my only concern.”

  Now that was a barefaced lie. All three Divines schemed endlessly from the heights of their religious dominion. Isonde had repeatedly warned Kayla to be wary of them.

  Raorin’s smile was arch, as if he were aware of the games she played and more than willing to join in. “And that is why I asked you here today, Divine. Our people need guidance in the face of the TNV threat, lest their… Unity… be sundered by fear and distrust.”

  The Divine’s lifted eyebrow said she heard his facetiousness.

  “Their panic needs an outlet,” Raorin continued, “needs to be shaped and shunted away from destructive paths. You could be the one to shape them, to lead them to greater Unity.”

  “I need not your counsel on how to best help my people.”

  “Of course not, I apologize. I only meant to suggest that our people might be best served if counseled to patience, toward a peaceful resolution with the Wyrds. Too often a threat to our person spurs an aggressive response. If, in their fear, the people clamor for stronger military measures to be taken on Ordoch, that could be disastrous for us all.”

  “The Divines take no stance on the matter of Ordoch,” she said with hauteur.

  “I ask only that you consider it. All of you.” His gaze touched upon each person present. “You are the major voices in your spheres of influence. We could make a withdrawal from Ordoch a reality if we coordinated our efforts.

  “Today’s council sessions will be devoted to the TNV threat. Listen to the voices, the opinions. Ask yourself if anyone has a better solution. And then ask yourself which part you want to play in our impending struggle. Because rest assured, the TNV is coming for us. Isn’t that right, Councilor Gi?”

  Every head swiveled in Councilor Gi’s direction. “You could not possibly know,” she bit out.

  “I doubt the secret will last out the day,” Raorin countered. “They have
a right to know.”

  It suddenly came together, what role an isolationist nation might play in Raorin’s plan, what stake they might have.

  “The presence of the TNV has been confirmed on Wei-lu-Wei,” Raorin said. “The first Sovereign Planet has been infected with the plague.”

  * * *

  Kayla gripped the bar with weak fingers, hanging on by sheer determination while sweat rolled down her temples. Beside her, Vid, one of Malkor’s octet agents, seemed worse off than her, struggling to pull himself up.

  “You can quit any time,” she huffed out on a breath.

  Vid’s forearms flexed as he drew his chin to the bar. Again, damn him. “After you.”

  They were having something of a pull-up competition, which she’d foolishly agreed to in an effort to burn off her mental exhaustion from a long day at the Sovereign Council meeting. The haze hadn’t dissipated after an hour-long workout, so here she was, dangling by hands that screamed to let go.

  She hauled herself up for another count.

  She’d come almost straight here to the workout space the octet favored when on Falanar, stopping at home only long enough to change and vent a string of curses Isonde would never have used at the intricacies of imperial politics. Life as a ro’haar with no expectation of ever ruling had not prepared her for this.

  Kayla left Isonde’s guards outside the workout space when she entered. Not surprisingly, she found Vid there doing his own workout, alone. He worked out more often than was good for him.

  Vid had been severely injured a few weeks ago by Janeen, a traitor in their octet. Bad enough that he’d suffered; even worse for Kayla was the knowledge that he’d sustained the injuries fighting to save her brother from kidnap. She would forever owe him for that.

  He was supposed to be resting.

  He was supposed to be healing.

  Instead he did another pull-up.

  “Trinan’s… gonna… kill you,” she said, struggling to follow suit.

  Her arms ached. The only reason she was still in the game at this point was because Vid’s injuries weren’t fully healed. She wouldn’t have had a chance of keeping pace otherwise.

  “Don’t tell—”

  “Vidious Con Vandaren!” Trinan’s voice cracked across the room from the direction of the door.

  “Thank the stars,” she groaned, releasing the bar to land lightly on her feet.

  Malkor entered the room behind Trinan. “Told you we’d find them here.”

  Vid had the grace to look sheepish, an odd expression on such a powerful person. Trinan’s answering frown was only half for show. He really would be concerned.

  “Wait a minute… Vidious? That’s your name?”

  “I prefer Vid, thank you very much.”

  Kayla grinned and reached for two towels with a rubbery arm. “I can see why.” She wiped her face while tossing the other towel to Vid.

  Malkor wandered toward them, studying Vid. “You’re not overdoing it, are you?”

  “No, boss.” He stretched his shoulders, wincing a little. “Just getting a feel for my limits.”

  “With this one? She doesn’t even have limits.” Malkor turned to her. “You’re a bad influence. We mere IDC agents can’t match a ro’haar.”

  “Me? He started it.” Well, maybe after a jibe or two from her. “I only went along to keep an eye on him.” Okay, so it was a jibe or three.

  “Riiiight. And you didn’t trash talk at all, I’m sure.”

  “Would I do such a thing?”

  He rolled his eyes. This was the Malkor she missed. The comfortable, treat-her-as-one-of-the-guys, trade-insults-while-sparring Malkor. The Malkor she had almost left behind.

  “How did the council session go?” he asked.

  “It was…” Intense? Complex? Convoluted? Incendiary? Time-sensitive, scheming and a little overwhelming? “Eventful.”

  Malkor chuckled. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

  “I hope not.” She shot him a look. “You are searching for a replacement who understands this tangled maze you imperials call ‘politics,’ right?”

  One thing had become abundantly clear to her in today’s Sovereign Council session—the Sovereign Planets didn’t give a damn about the Protectorate Planets. They saw them as founts of resources and that was about it.

  “I’m looking,” Malkor said noncommittally.

  “Great.” Just great.

  Isonde had better revive damn soon.

  “Come on,” Malkor said to her. “We’re late and you smell worse than Vid.” They were meeting with Rigger about the data she’d collected from Dolan’s machines—data Bredard wanted.

  Last night’s attack by Siño flashed into Kayla’s mind. She felt the biocybe’s arm locked around her throat, the hand suffocating her.

  She took a deep breath to prove to herself that she could. Then another.

  “Go on,” she said, “I’ll be there in twenty.”

  * * *

  Kayla stood in the lobby of Rigger’s condo tower, glaring at Rawn.

  “Can’t you stay here?” she asked, gesturing to the expansive space, which accommodated chairs, couches, vidscreens and even a bar staffed by a tender bot. She genuinely liked Isonde’s favorite bodyguard, but damn! She was used to being the guard, not shadowed by someone else. And Rawn was there every time she turned around.

  Rawn arched a brow and Kayla knew she’d erred. Isonde would be used to being followed any time she left her house. Kayla pinched the bridge of her nose, feigning a headache. “Sorry, it was a long day at council and I was looking forward to relaxing with friends.”

  “You can relax perfectly well, Princess, while I stand outside your friend’s door.” He gave her the hint of a grin, and she had to like him. She would do the same in his place.

  “Fine,” she said. “I warn you, the walls are thin, and I want no mention of my hideous karaoke singing if the evening comes to that.”

  Rawn placed his hand over his heart. “I wouldn’t breathe a word of it,” he said, with mock seriousness.

  She smiled, giving in, and took the maglift to Rigger’s condo with Rawn at her side.

  Malkor greeted her when she entered, and Rigger called a hello from the kitchen. Rigger’s abode was a sleek space lodged somewhere in the middle of the condo tower. At least, it would have been sleek if the corners of the living area weren’t crowded floor to ceiling with tech equipment. Not to mention the bedroom.

  Rigger pushed an ancient-looking complink to one end of the table so the three of them could settle in the kitchen. At least Kayla thought it was supposed to be a complink. The side panel was open and electronic guts trickled out. It looked like a museum piece mid-dissection.

  Rigger waved in its direction. “I’m addicted to hardware.”

  She synthed three plates of meat and veggies that tasted almost like the real thing. Kayla had lived off subpar calorie packs when she’d been hiding with Corinth on the slum side of Altair Tri. If she hadn’t been spoiled rotten by eating real food everyday at Isonde’s house for the last two weeks, she would have been in heaven with this meal.

  “You splurge on high-end calorie packs?” Kayla asked, around another mouthful.

  “Nah.” Rigger patted her food synthesizer unit. “It’s all about calibration.”

  “Why do you think I suggested meeting at Rigger’s?” Malkor asked. “I’m here practically every other night.”

  “As is the rest of the octet,” Rigger added. “Trinan and Vid alone double my calorie pack usage.”

  Not surprising. The two muscled agents were convinced food was a miracle remedy. Their love of food rubbed off on Corinth when they were watching over him.

  As always, thoughts of her younger brother brought an ache to her throat. He’d been her only family for five years. She’d lived for him, sheltered him, and raised him the best she knew how. Now he was gone, on his way back to Wyrd Space with the Ilmenans and Vayne. It was all she’d wanted for five years, to get hi
m home. It should have made her glad. Instead all she felt was lonely without him, and terrified to trust his welfare to anyone else.

  “Kayla?”

  Her name, so rarely used these days, caught her attention. “Sorry, what?” Apparently she’d left her fork hanging halfway to her mouth.

  Malkor gave her an odd look. “Did Bredard say anything else last night, something you remembered afterward?”

  “About the data we pulled from Dolan’s system?” She shook her head. “Nothing, just that he wanted it, and he knew Dolan had been studying the transfer of psionic powers. Well, among many things, at least.”

  “I still haven’t been able to unlock all of the data yet,” Rigger said. “Our download was aborted midstream so some of the data is incomplete and some is trapped behind security protocols that can’t ever be completed and rerouted. And the sophistication of the code he used…” Rigger half-shrugged. “I wish I still had Corinth’s and Noar’s help on this.”

  Noar was one of the Ilmenans who had come with Tia’tan to free Kayla’s family from Dolan’s captivity, and who now had charge of her brothers. He had better be keeping them safe, wherever they were.

  “I did find the schematics for Dolan’s mind-control machine—which he’d apparently dubbed ‘the Influencer,’” Rigger said. “Extracting the schematics and understanding them, however, are two different things.”

  Vayne had taken great pleasure in demolishing the original machine in Dolan’s laboratory when they’d escaped.

  “That’s only one piece of what Bredard wants,” Kayla said.

  Malkor raised a brow. “What more would he need? With a machine that can control minds and access to the chambers of the Council of Seven, he could manipulate politics at the highest level. He would rule the empire, essentially.”

  Kayla finished the last bite of her food before replying. “The Influencer takes manual input on a basic level, and can control people superficially that way. Like, ‘always wash your clothes on Tuesday,’ ‘never reply to the word hello,’ that kind of stuff.” She waved a hand in dismissal. “Parlor tricks. Practical usage requires a psionic.” Kayla shuddered to think about the things Dolan had made Vayne do using that machine. And he’d only told her the barest of details. “Thoughts, emotions, morals… a thousand variables that can’t be quantified well enough to be entered manually into the machine. You need to interface with it mentally to make the most of it, and it takes a Wyrd to do that.”