No one stopped us as we headed for the exit closest to the spaceport. Once outside, the path took us through the gardens. Soldiers in Kos uniforms were stationed at regular intervals along the route. I tried to enjoy the lovely scenery, but the closer we got, the tighter my nerves wound.
My first glimpse of Invictia punched me in the gut. My beautiful baby was a hollow husk.
I locked down my emotions behind a wall of ice, and my gait did not falter as I neared. I had hoped to salvage what I could, but there was nothing left. Nothing. After the initial explosion, the stardrive had burned too hot. The fire crews were gone, but the ground remained wet, a testimony to how long the drive had burned. Part of the outer hull remained, but the interior was a spiderweb of twisted, melted metal.
It was so much worse in the morning light, even worse than watching it burn.
I visually searched the wreckage for my quarters, but found only a void where they should’ve been. My armory was gone, as were the few mementos I’d kept through the years and hadn’t moved to Arx. The first gun I’d bought myself with money I’d earned on my own. A chair more comfortable than beautiful. A piece of art painted by a street kid as payment for taking care of the men bothering him.
I briefly closed my eyes as each loss stabbed deep. Imogen remained absolutely, thankfully silent.
This attack felt personal. It might’ve helped the rumors of Rogue rebels, but it felt like a private, vicious fuck you. And I knew of exactly one person with the troops, firepower, and desire to send this particular message: Commander Tony Adams.
I’d outsmarted him twice and he wanted payback. He’d gotten it, but I would not give him the satisfaction of seeing me break down. I gazed at the wreckage for a few minutes longer, giving the pain time to morph into anger and resolve, and then turned on my heel and walked away.
“Let’s go see Myra,” I said. “We have some traitors to find.”
The courtyard on the other side of the palace was paved with cobblestones that looked like they had been here since the building had first been constructed. A narrow strip of green garden shielded the courtyard from the modern glass tower next door that held most of the government offices and the advisors’ apartments.
We entered the tower along with a steady stream of other people. A woman in an Imperial Guard uniform was stationed next to the door. The foyer looked exactly like I would expect in any high-end office building in the system. A gilt-framed portrait of Valentin hung over the reception desk, but everything else was sleek, modern, and a little sterile.
I wondered if Myra had her guards reporting on my movements or if I would surprise her. I’d looked up her office location this morning. If she wasn’t there, I’d also looked up the addresses of the Imperial Guard headquarters and her home. Myra Shah was not escaping this conversation.
A pair of curved staircases led up to the second-floor balcony, one on each side of the front desk. We took the stairs on the left. The second floor was rectangular, wider than it was deep, with an elevator bank tucked into an alcove on the back wall. This floor contained six office suites, two on each side of the building. These were the offices of the top-level advisors and their assistants. The rest of the peons were in smaller cubicles on higher floors.
The frosted double doors of the closest office proclaimed it belonged to Hannah Perkins. The next set of doors led to Oskar Krystopa’s office. I hurried past and hoped they were both busy with other things.
I pulled open the door to Myra’s office suite and found her standing next to her assistant’s empty desk. She looked like she was waiting for me, so that answered the question of whether or not she was monitoring my movements.
She was dressed casually in black utility pants and a form-fitting blue knit shirt. Today, she looked more like the guards she advised than an imperial advisor, especially with the plasma pistol strapped around her waist. Imogen tensed beside me, but she didn’t interfere.
“You came this far, so you might as well come on back to my office,” Myra said. She didn’t sound particularly happy to see me, but since she didn’t kick me out, I assumed she’d decided to help. We followed her down a short hall to another door, this one solid wood. Imogen stuck to me like glue. I might somewhat trust Myra, but Imogen was taking no chances.
The office was large, with windows lining the left and back walls looking out over the gardens. A delicate wooden desk anchored the middle of the space and two padded chairs faced it. Myra settled behind her desk and waved me to a chair in front of it. I sat and Imogen hovered near the door, far enough away to give us the illusion of privacy.
“I’m sorry about your ship,” Myra said. “I already spoke to Advisor Krystopa about the security failure. His team is looking into it.”
Pain stabbed at me. I hid it behind a sigh. “In that case, I won’t hold my breath on the investigation results.”
Myra grimaced. “You are not his favorite person,” she confirmed. “But Valentin has ordered a full investigation, so Oskar will do it quickly enough, he’ll just bitch about it.”
“So you don’t think Oskar is a traitor?”
She pinned me with a direct stare. Instead of answering the question, she asked, “Would you like to tell me why you and Luka were out in Koan last night?”
“No.”
She hadn’t expected that answer and it threw her for a second. “Why not?”
Two could play this game. I answered her question with a question of my own. “How did you know we were out?”
“One of my guards saw you at Jack’s. Well, she saw Luka and a petite figure in a coat and hat.”
Ah, so she’d been fishing and gotten lucky when I didn’t flat out deny it. “Did the guard tell anyone else?”
“No. And I told her to keep it to herself. I believe she will.”
“I was looking into the attack.”
She leaned forward. “Did you find anything?”
“Not yet.”
“Damn.” She sighed and rubbed her face. “I don’t think Oskar is a traitor, but I don’t have any proof one way or another. Same for Junior. But they are both my friends and I’m biased.”
“But you do think there is a traitor.”
She nodded slowly.
I had to be careful here to not let my own biases cloud my judgement. “Hannah, Joanna, and Asmo seemed very chummy before dinner last night.”
“Oskar, Junior, and I are friends, and Hannah, Joanna, and Asmo are friends, or at least friendlier with each other than with the rest of us. Hannah keeps the other two in line. Mostly. Joanna is more likely to break from the group than Asmo when it comes to votes.”
“Do you have any feelings on who might be betraying Valentin?”
She tapped her fingers on her desk while she decided if she was going to trust me. After a few seconds, she said, “I have many feelings and exactly zero proof. I’ve done as much digging as I can without being obvious about it, and they are all super clean. I can’t stand Asmo, but on paper, the man is a saint.”
“But you think he’s dirty?”
“I couldn’t say.”
She might not have wanted to voice her opinion directly, but her expression made the truth clear enough—she thought Asmo wasn’t as clean as he appeared to be.
“Tell me about him. What’s his story?” I’d done my own research, but she might know something I didn’t.
“Asmo Copley is from a very old, very powerful, very respected family. They run one of the largest shipbuilding companies in the Empire.”
I’d known that already, but I played along. “Copley Heavy Industries? That’s his family’s business?”
“Yes. His older sister is being trained to take over the company while Asmo focuses on politics.”
“And as the domestic affairs advisor, I’m sure he’s totally impartial about issues that could potentially affect his family.”
“I’m sure,” Myra murmured. She was being cautious, but I didn’t hold it against her. Having a Copley for an
enemy would not be an enviable position. “A year or two ago, there were some quiet rumors that the family was struggling financially, but nothing ever came of it. They continue to spend credits like water.”
I perked up. I hadn’t found those rumors during my research, which meant the family had spent a lot of time and effort erasing them. And money was a powerful motivator. “Would he work with Quint against the Empire?”
“I couldn’t say, but Asmo is an expert at judging which situations are to his advantage, and he is known to use all available resources to achieve his goals.”
So, in a word, yes.
I asked about the other advisors. Joanna, the science and technology advisor, and Junior, the medical advisor, had both risen rapidly through the diplomatic ranks thanks to intelligence, dedication, and passion for the work. Both tended to keep to themselves more than the other advisors, but they often worked together thanks to their overlapping fields. Joanna had lost a much younger sister in the war a few years ago and had retreated even further into her work in medical technology.
Oskar had been the military strategy advisor for years and thought his word should be law. He was training his daughter to take over for him, and the young woman was smart and well liked, but Oskar showed no signs that he was ready for retirement just yet.
When I asked if any of them would work with Quint, I got flat denials. Other than that, Myra was careful to stick to factual statements, positive opinions, and well substantiated rumors. She trusted me, but only so far.
“And Hannah?” I prompted when it seemed she was going to skip the woman entirely.
“Hannah Perkins has been a diplomat for over fifty years, and she’s been the diplomatic relations advisor for nearly thirty. She has the most connections of any of us, in part because of her tenure and in part because she is married to the emperor’s cousin. She lost two sons in the war and she hates all things Quint with fanatical passion.”
Hate was a powerful motivator, as was power. “Is her husband in line to inherit the throne?”
“No, Leo is Valentin’s distant cousin, and that family has many branches. I think he was fifth or sixth in line when Valentin’s father died.”
I filed that information away. “If she hates Quint, then she wouldn’t work with them?”
“No.” Myra paused and tapped her fingers, staring into the middle distance. I let my gaze wander while she organized her thoughts. The green garden outside was strangely hypnotic after living in Arx. There, we had a perpetual view of rocks and snow, and while I’d had ceiling panels installed to mimic blue skies, nothing beat the real thing.
“No, she would not help Quint. But she might use them.”
It was the most forthright statement she’d made so far. I pressed my luck. “Do you think she is working against Valentin?”
“I couldn’t say.”
I had pressed her as far as she was willing to go, so I changed the subject. “Do you know of anyone else that would have a reason to betray Valentin? What about his assistant?”
“Lewis?” she asked in surprise. “No, I can’t imagine. He’s been with Valentin for years. I’ve never caught any weird vibes from him, and I’ve worked with him a lot to coordinate Valentin’s security. He’s a good guy.”
So I was back to Asmo and Hannah, maybe. I fought the urge to rub my eyes in frustration. “Do you have any guards that are my size or any spare uniforms that will fit me?”
Myra frowned. “Why?”
“Because Imperial Guards are nearly as invisible as regular staff and people tend to question them less.”
Her scowl deepened. “And you know this how?”
I was saved from having to answer by the shrill shriek of the building’s fire alarm.
“Not again,” Myra muttered.
“Is this common?”
“For the last three days, yes. Maintenance thinks there must be rats in the wiring. But they make us evacuate anyway.”
I stood. “You didn’t find the timing odd? Is the palace affected?”
I tried to link to Valentin, but he didn’t answer. Neither did Luka. Dread settled in my stomach. Something was wrong, I could feel it.
“The systems are connected,” Myra said with a frown.
“Can you pull up the surveillance footage from Valentin’s floor?”
“Only if it’s an emergency.”
“It is. I’ll take the blame.”
Either my tone or the situation must’ve persuaded her. She tapped on her console, scowled, and tapped some more. “Surveillance is down,” she murmured.
That’s all I needed to hear. I hit the door at a run, Imogen on my heels.
Chapter Thirteen
I held out a hand and Imogen passed me one of her pistols. A sizable crowd of people milled about in the lobby despite the ongoing alarm. A few people halfheartedly headed outside as requested by the overwhelmed security guards, but most stood between me and the door. I didn’t want to cause a stampede, but if these people didn’t get out of my way, I wasn’t going to be held responsible.
Myra caught up to us and then shoved ahead, her own pistol visible. “MOVE! Imperial Guard coming through!” Her shouts echoed off the ceiling, and a path magically opened up.
The courtyard was filled with disgruntled people dressed in nice clothes. Luckily, they were spread out enough that we didn’t have to elbow our way through. But getting into the palace nearly took an act of violence. We had to fight against the crowd coming out, and then Myra stopped to argue with the security guard who tried to usher us back outside. As soon as the guard was distracted, I bolted for the stairs.
“Stop!” she shouted.
I ignored her. Hopefully Myra would keep her from shooting me in the back.
The elevators were out of service, but the doors at the bottom of the private stairs to the family wing unlocked with my personal identity key. Valentin had added me to the system.
“Plan?” Imogen asked as we raced up the stairs.
“Shoot anything that shoots at us. Find Valentin. Don’t get shot.”
“Your planning sucks.”
I chuckled. She wasn’t wrong. We were both augmented with speed and strength, so six stories of stairs weren’t a challenge. I remained on guard, but the stairwell was empty. If this was an attack and not a freaky coincidence, the attackers were either still on the floor or they’d escaped another way.
The electronic lock on the door at the top of the stairs was dead and only the emergency lights were on. I hadn’t put in my night-vision lenses this morning, so if it was dark on the other side of this wall, I was going to be fucked.
But first, we had to get through the door. I tried linking to Valentin and Luka again, but they still didn’t answer. Panic pushed my pulse faster, but the door was locked tight. “Think we can kick it down?”
Imogen looked skeptical but shrugged gamely. “On three?”
We slammed our feet into the door near the lock. It made a hellacious noise, but it held firm. After four attempts with the same result, I began to wonder if I was going to have to climb the elevator shaft. I could do it, but it would take time, and Valentin still hadn’t answered any of my attempts to link with him.
I heard a faint thunk, then the door unlocked and swung open an inch. I dove for the handle while Imogen covered the opening.
“Luka?” she asked.
I peeked around the door. It took me a second to recognize the big guard. He slumped against the doorframe, blood painting his blond hair red. The hallway beyond him was dim, a distant window providing the only light. Even the emergency lights were off.
“Where is Valentin?” I demanded.
“He’s here. Got a trauma-doc on him. He needs medical.” Luka’s voice was thick and sluggish.
“Threats?” Imogen asked.
“Team of five. Two are down in the hall, likely dead. Three more ran after they downed Valentin. Wearing guard uniforms. I hit at least two of them.”
Imogen moved into the h
all, scanning for threats. I locked down the desire to rush in headlong to find Valentin and cautiously followed her. I glanced down at Luka. “Is anyone else injured? Are you stable?”
“No and I’ll survive,” he said.
Valentin lay a meter down the hall with a trauma-doc clamped around his chest. Even in the low light, I could see that he was deathly pale. From the blood trail, it seemed like Luka had carried Valentin from the direction of his office, then collapsed. Luka had dragged himself to the door, leaving Valentin tucked into a shallow nook. Farther down the hall, two bodies were partially hidden by the faint light. They weren’t moving.
I smothered my fear and anger and dealt with the most important issues first. “Where was Valentin hit?”
“Plasma bolt to the chest, right side.”
“Do you trust the medical team here?” I asked.
“I trust Junior,” he said.
If he said anything after that, I didn’t hear it. Valentin was pale, still, and blood-soaked. For a brief, terrifying second, I thought he was already dead. I froze out of sheer instinct, my heart racing, before I pushed myself through it. Some people fell apart in dangerous situations, and I didn’t blame them. Instinct and self-preservation were incredibly powerful. But I had training and experience to fall back on, so I pushed aside everything except ruthless determination.
I bent, pressed my fingers to Valentin’s neck, and nearly passed out from relief when I detected a faint, thready pulse. It was still a bad sign, but I had a chance to keep him alive if I could get him to medical fast enough.
I picked him up as carefully as I could. He didn’t stir when I lifted him. The edge of the trauma-doc pressed into my chest, and I tried my very best not to think of him as dead weight. Chest wounds were dangerous and often fatal, even with help from advanced technology. I suppressed the fluttery panic that tried to rise. I had to get him to medical now. I turned for the stairs, then remembered Luka was waiting on me.
“Link Junior and tell him to meet me in medical.”
“Can’t,” Luka said. “Whatever took out the lights took out my neural link.”
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