Empress Game 2

by Rhonda Mason

Oh man. This was going to be a long day.

  Some hours later, Toble came and insisted Isonde get some rest, saving Kayla from the inquisition. She was all too eager to escape the grilling. Isonde analyzed and catalogued every choice Kayla had made, every word she’d uttered as Isonde in the last few weeks. She hadn’t been that thoroughly critiqued since her ro’haar training days. As exhausting as it was, it still brought a sense of relief. Isonde was readying herself to take back her life, freeing Kayla to live her own. Not to mention how beneficial it was to have an experienced politician help her navigate her last delicate days as Isonde.

  Sadly, her reprieve was short-lived.

  She was sitting in Isonde’s front solar, sipping tea and enjoying a moment thinking of absolutely nothing at all, when Malkor entered. The grim set of his mouth and his worried brow announced her quiet moment was over.

  “Have you seen this?” he asked by way of greeting, stalking to the vidscreen and flipping it on. Falanar’s main news feed appeared, the screen filled with an image of Wei-lu-Wei from space and a chaos of ships around it. Thousands of spaceships, most not even capable of deep-space travel judging by their design, jockeyed for position. Even as she watched, two ships collided, and more ships launched themselves through the atmosphere and into the fray.

  What kept them in orbit? Why hadn’t they flown away?

  “Wei-lu-Wei’s citizens hadn’t known about the TNV on their planet,” Malkor said. “Since the news broke, people have been fleeing the surface by any means necessary.”

  What a disaster. “Who knows how many of them are infected? They could be spreading it across the entire empire, to all the other uninfected worlds.” On screen a giant imperial army battleship cruised into view.

  “This is a scene from earlier.” Malkor gestured toward the battleship. “The army pulled its battleships from patrol on the Ginesea trade corridor to blockade the planet. They don’t have enough ships in place yet to do it effectively.”

  As she watched, two passenger ships broke from the crowd and tried to dart past the battleship. They were promptly fired on and destroyed.

  “Holy shit. The military is killing civilians?” Kayla watched in stunned amazement as the clip repeated. “They could have disabled the ships, instead.”

  “Those aren’t their orders. Apparently the military isn’t taking any chances with the spread of the TNV.”

  “What about all the ships that escaped before the army arrived? Are they going to be hunted down?”

  “I have no idea.”

  How many more people would be desperate enough to get away from Wei-lu-Wei that they’d risk trying to get past the battleships? How many uninfected civilians would die because people feared they might be infected?

  “The army is sending reinforcements to make an impenetrable blockade. I don’t know what’ll happen in the skies above Wei-lu-Wei in the meantime.” Malkor flipped to another feed. “And then there’s this.”

  The headline ticker running across the bottom of the screen caught her eye first: TNV outbreak on Wei-lu-Wei the latest in the Wyrds’ terrorist attacks on the empire?

  A politician she didn’t recognize gave an impassioned speech about the moral depravity of all Wyrds and the need for the empire to strike back in the face of such villainy. Kayla slammed her tea cup down.

  “How dare he claim that my people had anything to do with this, that the Ilmenans are responsible for this outbreak?” She was one second from breathing fire. She stabbed her finger at Malkor like a sword. “You brought this on yourselves.”

  “Hey, don’t point that finger at me. I didn’t weaponize those nanites.”

  “And we didn’t spread them,” she snapped. “Somehow we still pay the price.” Kayla pushed off the couch to pace. She wanted a fight. A dirty, no-rules brawl. She wanted to strangle someone. “Of all the asinine—” She broke off, unable to speak past the fury.

  Long moments passed before she controlled her temper. “What would Ilmena possibly gain by spreading the TNV?”

  “Payback seems a pretty obvious motive to me.” Malkor was wise enough to keep his distance as he said it.

  She gestured toward the vidscreen. “Don’t tell me you believe this bullshit?”

  He perched on the arm of the sofa out of her way, eyes following her as she walked. “It is possible. The evidence found by the imperial army linking the Ilmenans to Prince Trebulan and providing him with a supply of the TNV is pretty airtight.”

  She made a sound of disgust. “Corinth could manufacture evidence that airtight. It doesn’t mean a thing.”

  It didn’t.

  The Ilmenans had every reason to hate the empire, as many reasons as she did. They wouldn’t resort to genocide, though. Wyrds were better than that. Superior.

  Malkor crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not saying they did it, but, how well do you really know these Ilmenans? They came to rescue your family, yes. Beyond that you have no idea what their plans are.”

  She stopped pacing and faced him head on. “They are Wyrds. That’s all I need to know.” And she had damn well better be right, since she had entrusted the fate of her last surviving family members to them. “This was not a terrorist attack. The TNV has been eating its way through the Protectorate Planets; it was only a matter of time before the infection spread to a Sovereign world.

  “Besides,” she said, “if your empire’s elite had given half a damn about the Protectorate Planets when the TNV first broke out, things might never have gotten this far.”

  Malkor nodded to concede the point. He looked… tired. And wary. Kayla took a breath and eased out of her defensive stance, standing down from attack-mode. Malkor wasn’t saying anything that other people hadn’t already said, and he didn’t need her jumping down his throat over it.

  “Sorry,” she said. “You didn’t deserve that.”

  “I knew you’d calm down in a minute or two,” he said with a smile. “Your style’s mostly ‘react first, think about it after.’”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but he was right. IDC agents had years of training on how to be patient, calculating, diplomatic, strategic. As a bodyguard, she identified a threat and neutralized it immediately. Questions could wait until after her il’haar was safe—if there was anyone left alive to question.

  And okay, maybe she was a little more overprotective, and a little more reactionary than most ro’haars.

  Maybe.

  She continued pacing. “We have to head this ‘Wyrds as terrorists’ bullshit off,” she said. “If the idea of increasing the military presence in the Wyrd Worlds gains traction, it’ll undermine our position.” One more thing on a long list of worries. Soon to be Isonde’s list, she reminded herself.

  It didn’t help. Handing the reins over to Isonde wouldn’t erase Kayla’s worry. Too much was at stake for her people to walk away from Falanar without a backward glance when the charade was over.

  “We should talk to the Low Divine,” Malkor said, surprising her.

  “That child?”

  “She has a strong influence over the people, and she’s always counseled peace as the most desirable course.”

  The idea of involving any religious figure in politics as important as this seemed ridiculous to her, but Raorin had included the Low Divine in his pre-council meeting.

  “I’ll talk to Isonde about it.” Kayla turned to her most immediate concern. “How goes the search for a way to neutralize Bredard’s threat?”

  “You mean besides killing him?” Malkor managed half a smile, as if it was a joke. The very real option of assassination hung in the air between them. Could she kill someone in cold blood to save herself? Maybe. Could she do it to save Malkor? Yes, unequivocally.

  “Assuming it doesn’t come to that,” she said.

  He let out a sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face. “It’s complicated. Without knowing what evidence he has against us, I don’t know how much counter-leverage we need. Commander Parrel has people going over Dolan�
�s files on who in the IDC and imperial army were complicit with Dolan’s experiments, and we have some major hits against high-ranking IDC members. One of those will likely be Bredard’s handler, capable of reining him in. I don’t know how to flush them out without making the corruption within the IDC public knowledge.” His tone echoed her frustration. “Do I want to expose those involved? Absolutely. Am I willing to dismantle the IDC over it, see the entire institution destroyed due to their actions?” He left the question unanswered. “There’s still so much good we can do,” he said, almost as though he were trying to convince her—or himself—of that fact.

  Kayla didn’t give a damn about the IDC. With the exception of Malkor and his octet, they could burn to ash while she watched. The organization was bloated, rotting, and about to implode. It wasn’t worth saving, not if it meant the men and women who helped Dolan imprison and torture her family went free.

  Malkor wasn’t ready to hear that.

  “Decisions are going to have to be made,” she told him, “and you’re going to have to choose which side you’re coming down on.”

  Mine or theirs.

  His eyebrows rose. “You’re going to talk to me about divided loyalties? About who you stick with, and who you leave behind?” He sounded somewhere between incredulous and furious that she would dare question his loyalty.

  Last night, in the midst of near-delirious relief to be alive and see Isonde healed, the tension between them had been forgotten. In the light of day, the choice she’d made wedged itself between them once again.

  His mobile comm chimed, cutting off whatever he meant to say. He answered, and the way his gaze flicked to her when he said, “You’re certain?” sent a chill of apprehension through her.

  Malkor closed his mobile comm with a snap. “Hekkar has a report of the Ilmenans’ ship. The army had a run-in with them near the Tucane nebula—just outside of the Mine Field.”

  “What the frutt are they doing there?” They’d probably pass the Mine Field on their way to Wyrd Space. It was well-marked on imperial star charts; they would know to give it a wide berth. Her worries for Vayne and Corinth kicked into hyperdrive. “Bredard knows. This is what he was talking about when he intimated that they hadn’t reached Wyrd Space.” Had they somehow been pulled into the Mine Field?

  She had to know. Kayla headed for the door.

  Malkor moved as if to stop her. “Kayla, don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Stupid? Nah.” She was an overprotective ro’haar and her brothers were in danger. Acting stupidly might be out, but recklessly was definitely on the table.

  “I’m going to pay Bredard a visit.”

  * * *

  Three of Ardin’s guards fell into step behind Kayla when she left the townhouse and entered the waiting hover car. The door closed behind her on a cacophony of questions called out by the media from the edge of the property.

  Damn. She really had to do a press conference soon, issue a statement about Rawn’s death at least. How about “Frutt you, Bredard. I’m coming for you.” How would that work as a statement?

  If only.

  The hover car carried her away from reporters and political concerns for the moment. Her thoughts switched immediately to the impending confrontation with Bredard, which she might be anticipating a tad too much. Could be a cluster-frutt. At least she was doing something. On the attack instead of waiting for the next punch to land. If Bredard knew anything about her brothers, anything at all, she had to try.

  They traveled through the crown district and arrived at the most recently renovated area of the business sector. Old commerce hubs and narrow office buildings—some historical landmarks from before the addition of the Protectorate Planets to the empire—stood shoulder to shoulder with newly built-up lots, ancient stone giving way to modern organoplastic.

  The street was blissfully media-free when they arrived. No one shouted questions at her or recorded her every move. Not yet, anyway. The throng on the sidewalk parted quickly for her guards’ muscled bulk in full regimentals, and they reached Bredard’s office building in no time.

  The sight of the future empress sent the entire lobby into a frenzy. Kayla was fast-tracked through security and personally escorted to the office suite of the Gethans. Through it all she maintained Isonde’s poise, even while her blood hummed with excitement for the impending confrontation. Her fingers tingled, itched to tap the kris she hadn’t been able to bring with her.

  Before Kayla could say a thing or their escorts could stop them, her guards flung open the double doors of the suite and took post on either side.

  “I like your flair,” Kayla murmured, as she passed the closest guard. She struck a pose dead-center in the doorway, chin up, shoulders back, sweeping the interior with Isonde’s icy gaze.

  There. The office at the back. Had to be Bredard’s.

  She marched down the aisle between the staffers’ desks, guards following behind, ignoring the wide-eyed stares and half-hearted attempts to question her.

  When she stopped before the secretary posted in front of the door, the woman stammered, “Are you expected?”

  Kayla arched a brow. “I am Princess Isonde,” she said, as if that answered everything. She had a heady sense of her own power in that moment. And having two of Ardin’s impressive guards flanking her like sentinel towers didn’t hurt.

  “Of course,” the secretary murmured.

  Bredard’s pet biocybe, Siño, rose from the chair outside the door, smirking all the way. Probably remembering the last time they’d met, when his backhand had cracked across her cheek and she’d done nothing but take it.

  Not this time.

  Kayla tilted her head toward her guard on the right. “Why don’t you two keep Siño here company while I chat with Bredard?” She gave the biocybe an airy wave as the secretary opened the office door, and Kayla sailed past Siño into the room, knowing her guards would block his entrance.

  The look of shock on Bredard’s face was gratifying. It only lasted a moment, still long enough to savor a feeling of power. She approached his desk like a shadow panthe on the hunt, stopping kitty-corner to him, neither in front of the desk nor totally in his space. Close enough to control the situation, if need be.

  He flashed a bland smile and laid his hands flat on his desk. “Quite a ballsy move, coming here.”

  She shrugged. “Not really. The media will be here any second. Your office is agog with curiosity over my presence, likely alerting everyone they know that they just saw the future empress. Anything happens to me…” She snapped her fingers.

  “The same goes in reverse.”

  She arched a brow. “Does it?”

  He leaned back in his chair, letting his right hand trail across the desk’s surface toward his top drawer.

  Not very subtle.

  Kayla swung her right leg over his shoulder and struck downward with her heel in an axe kick that knocked his hand toward the floor. It was a delicate maneuver: too much force and she would have snapped his wrist. Lucky for him, she knew the limits of her strength to the finest degree.

  He gasped, gripping his injured wrist.

  “No need to get overly excited,” she said with a feral smile. “Let’s have a friendly chat.” She slid the drawer open herself, unsurprised to find a pistol secreted there. She placed it on a table by the door, well away from his reach, and returned to his desk.

  Bredard left off rubbing his wrist, once more calm and complacent. “If you don’t have my data, Princess, then we’ve nothing to talk about.”

  The bastard was oh-so-smug.

  “I disagree.” She made herself keep still, even though she itched with the urge to commit violence. This man killed Rawn, someone innocent in all of this, to make a point. He held the lives of people she cared about in his hand and he was ruthless enough to destroy them all.

  “Your bargaining position has changed,” she said, trying to keep her tone even.

  He arched a brow, settling back in his chair as i
f perfectly comfortable. “Really? Last I checked, I still held all the cards.”

  “Then perhaps you need to check again.”

  He ticked points off on his fingers. “Your real identity, knowledge of you fixing the Empress Game with Agent Rua and the actual Princess Isonde, and let us not forget, the whereabouts of your beloved brothers.” He smiled. “I think that covers it, don’t you?”

  She reached out and curled one of his fingers back into his fist. “About my brothers…”

  He stilled, smile frozen on his face.

  “I hope you weren’t counting on that being your strongest piece of leverage.” She let her words sink in.

  He lowered his hand and gazed at her, assessing. She waited, feeling for once not at a complete disadvantage. She had knowledge, she had power.

  Not enough, though.

  She knew where her brothers were, but not why. What the frutt were they doing near the Mine Field? How did Bredard know they had gone there? And how in the void could the Ilmenans endanger her family like that?

  She had the urge to lift Bredard by his shirt front and shake the answers out of him. Sadly, he was her only source of information. Better to save some violence for later.

  “You couldn’t possibly know where they are,” he finally said.

  “The Mine Field is a pretty big place, so it’s hard to know exactly where…” She shrugged one shoulder. “They’re safe enough with the Ilmenans.” A bald-faced lie. They could be dead even now and she wouldn’t have known. If they somehow managed to survive the Mine Field, Tia’tan was going to answer to her.

  “What do you want, then?” he asked.

  “Information. You knew they were headed for the Mine Field. How? What’s there that they’re after?” It had to have something to do with Dolan, something he’d told the Ilmenans about. And if the Ilmenans knew, then likely Bredard and the shadow elements within the IDC knew as well.

  Bredard laughed. “Why would I tell you anything?”

  “Because you want your data.” Her answer seemed to amuse him and she itched to punch him square in his laughing face.

  “I’m pretty sure the threat of revealing your actions at the Empress Game ensures that I’ll get what I want.”