Fortunes of the Imperium (48 page)
Read Fortunes of the Imperium Online
Authors: Jody Lynn Nye
Tags: #Fiction, #science fiction, #General, #Action & Adventure, #Space Opera
Rafe turned on his side so he could see the door, but pretended to be asleep. Under the uncomfortable blanket, M’Kenna knew he had his slipper wound over his knuckles. She slipped back to stand beside the door, ready to jump on the intruder.
Her heart pounded so hard she had to strain to listen over the thudding in her ears. The chlorine in the air caught at her throat. She wanted badly to cough, but swallowed again and again until the feeling passed.
Outside, the shadow shifted one more time. She was sure the intruder was going to take them out first, then move on to the other prisoners. After all, she was the one making the most noise about getting them released. From what Lord Thomas had said, the people who had set her up couldn’t risk having her and Rafe testify in court. The Uctu judicial system required live testimony to convict, and dead humans told no tales.
It took so long before something happened that her attention was beginning to waver. The shadow changed again, and the door of their cell began to slide into its recess. M’Kenna tensed her muscles, ready to spring on the male. She wanted to beat his scaly head into the floor. She leaned forward, hands ready to strike.
A black mass rose up almost against her. Startled, M’Kenna stumbled backward. The mass seemed to be her assailant, draped in dark-colored cloth to prevent the cameras from seeing him. He grabbed her around the shoulders with one arm and closed his other hand on her throat.
“Rafe!” she shrieked.
He jumped up from the bunk to help her, but more shadows poured into the cell. At least three of the dark figures threw themselves at him, bearing him down.
“Nona, run!” he bellowed. “Take the babies. The door’s open! Go get help!”
Their elder daughter appeared in an instant, Dorna on her hip. The two small boys stumbled behind her. They made for the door, but more black-clad assailants came in. Nona grabbed for the only thing she could, the tablet computer. She struck at the nearest assassin. It brought its hand up under the drape and knocked the light rectangle flying. The tablet clattered to the floor. The assailant pushed Nona against the wall with one hand. The cell door slid shut. The Coppers were trapped with a half-dozen killers. Where were the guards?
“Help!” M’Kenna gasped.
“Mama!” Akela shouted. Two more Uctus picked the boys up. Akela and Lerin squirmed and kicked, trying to get down.
“Mama!” Lerin called. “Papa!”
M’Kenna choked, trying to drag air into her lungs. She stepped on her attacker’s feet and kneed him in the belly. He was much stronger than she was. His face was covered, but he must have been able to see through the cloth. She tried to ram her forehead into his nose, but he tilted his head back out of her way.
“What’s happening?” Nuro bellowed from the other side of the wall. “Hey! Who the hell are you?”
They weren’t the only ones being attacked! M’Kenna grabbed for her attacker’s hand and tried to drag it from her neck.
From under the black robes, his hand, pale gray in the security lights, rose up. Something was clenched in his hand. It looked like the kind of orange bulb the first assassin had tried to use on her. He brought it to her face. M’Kenna strained back, doing her best to avoid its touch. Her head hit the wall behind her.
A long, pale hand pushed in between them. Suddenly, the attacker wasn’t touching her any longer. The draped figure went flying backwards, followed by a lanky figure in a prison jumpsuit. The Uctu met the newcomer with four limbs up, but it wasn’t quick enough. The newcomer brought a solid foot down in the middle of its stomach. It went limp long enough for the human to leap over its body and bring his foot down just below the outlined head. M’Kenna heard a terrible crunch, and the attacker went still. She felt her gorge rise. She swallowed it. Her babies were still in danger.
In a flurry of limbs, the man spun from one attacker to another, delivering blow after blow with hands and feet. She had never seen a human being move so fast. The three figures holding Rafe dropped and didn’t rise again. The attackers holding Lerin and Akela dropped the boys and threw themselves at him. He went into a crouch, a fearsome scowl on his face. M’Kenna suddenly realized it was their new neighbor, Steve. The Uctu had not taken two steps before he spun, lifting one foot in the air. He caught them both across their masked faces, knocking them back. M’Kenna ran to the boys and pulled them away into a corner with her. Rafe lowered his shoulder and cannoned into the figure holding Nona. When it tried to hit him with its tail, Rafe caught it by that appendage and flung it staggering out into the middle of the cell. Steve grabbed it around the neck with one arm and twisted its head with the other. Another horrifying crunch, and it fell.
Only one assassin was left standing. As if they had rehearsed it, M’Kenna, Rafe and Steve moved toward it. It shifted from foot to foot, then made for the door. The portal slid open, but Steve was on top of the masked figure before it could run out. He grabbed it by both arms, then reached down to a place near its tail. It let out a terrible scream and fell to its knees. Steve heaved it upright and it back toward Rafe.
“Keep him here. We need one alive.”
He slapped the door with his open hand, and it rolled open. He dashed out, leaving M’Kenna goggling. Rafe grabbed the blanket off the bunk and rolled the writhing attacker in it. Then he sat down on it.
In a moment, they heard more horrible sounds. M’Kenna embraced her children and kept a fierce hold on them. Dorna sobbed against her chest. The other three were wide-eyed with shock.
Suddenly, all of the lights went on. Dozens of guards poured into the corridor. M’Kenna blinked at the pulse rifles pointing at her. She looked past them, and saw a rectangle of black at the end of the hall.
“I told you they came through the wall!”
She sat in Captain Oren’s office with Dorna on her lap. The rest of the Imperium prisoners were jammed into the small room as the senior guard ran the video recordings back and forth.
“It is as you said it was,” Captain Oren said. “The video does not show anything from the moment you say it began, but the cells are full of bodies.”
“I told you so,” M’Kenna kept saying. She couldn’t stop herself, and saw no real reason to. She glared at him. “I told you so. I told you so!”
“Yes, yes,” the Uctu said, impatiently. “I apologize.”
“It would seem that the assailants had access not only to the video system, but also the physical plant of the prison,” Steve was saying. M’Kenna stared at him. He might still be bruised, stubbled and wearing a torn green jumpsuit, but his manner had changed from a petulant, hard-bitten trader to someone who talked to people from a position of infinite authority. She peered at him, picturing him with a shave and a haircut.
“I know you,” she said. “You’re Lord Thomas’s . . . what did he call you? Aide-de-camp. I forget your name.”
“Commander Parsons,” ‘Steve’ replied. “Lord Thomas has insisted all of you were in danger, as has my ongoing surveillance of you.”
“You were spying on us?”
“Steve” lifted an eyebrow, and it stopped her dead.
“If I had not, I wouldn’t have been here this evening,” he said. “To be honest, we did not believe the attack would come as soon as this. I expected it to be the night before your trial.”
“You were willing to spend that much time locked up because he asked you to?” M’Kenna asked.
“That and because there was no other way to ensure I would be here at the necessary moment,” he said. He nodded to the Uctu guard. “Captain Oren cooperated most fully with our plans.”
“Happy to,” Oren said. “Thought it was lies. I apologize again.”
“Well,” M’Kenna said. The words came to her lips grudgingly. She was still mad that they hadn’t believed her to begin with. “Thank you for saving my babies.”
Commander Parsons looked deeply into her eyes.
“We will save all of you,” he said. “This is not hyperbole. More proof has just been added to the balance on your side.”
“The High Protector will get information from the survivors,” Oren said, his expression bleak.
“I hope they have some,” Parsons said.
M’Kenna was all too glad to go back to their cell, accompanied by a guard who stood at their door the rest of the night. Not that she could fall asleep, but she finally felt as if she was safe to do so.
CHAPTER 43
I was delighted to greet Parsons when the crew met to confer the next morning. He had sustained a small bruise on the temple. I also spotted some discoloration on his wrist that his cuff did not quite conceal. His description of his exploits after I had left him, however sparing of detail, was as exciting as a blockbuster digitavid. I could imagine the cool efficiency with which he had disposed of all but a few of the attackers.
“I accompanied the two surviving assassins to the High Protector’s station,” he said. “The fruits of the interviews with them were few. As I feared, they were rogues for hire, admitted to the premises by means of electronic keys supplied to them at a dead drop along with an initial deposit on their fee. They do not know the source of either. After the interrogation, I spent a few hours with the High Protector discussing the potential for an attack.”
“But upon whom are they planning this coup?” I asked. “Surely not the Autocrat herself. She is a child. Her people love her. Everyone who stopped to chat with her in the shopping precinct was thrilled to have her there.”
Parsons visited a look upon me that was patient and even kindly.
“Her policies are not popular with all of the Autocracy,” he reminded me. “But her removal does seem unlikely. The next in line for the throne is just as amiable and inexperienced and as likely to continue the rules left in place by Visoltia’s late father.”
“Then who?” Plet asked. “Why would an attack be made? Who would benefit? What change could possibly come out of a coup?”
“Well, if I could change anything,” I said, “it would be the annoying holdup at the borders. Everyone is affected by that.”
“Has the High Protector said why such an irregular trickle of ships is being allowed in?” Plet asked Parsons.
“The numbers are on direct orders from the Autocrat,” Parsons said. “He feels that it is based upon her superstitions. He cannot persuade her to change the quantity even by a single digit.”
“That sounds really childish,” Nesbitt said.
“She
is
a child,” I said. “Did you know that the favorite lucky number here is seventeen?”
“Yes, sir, I did,” Parsons replied. “Have you made any progress in dealing with these protective measures she employs?”
I ran my hands through my hair.
“I am doing my best,” I said. “Every time I think I have persuaded her that it is all right to think for herself, the moment I turn my back, any good I have done is undone by Lord Toliaus. He doesn’t like me. I tell better fortunes than he does.”
“Could he be preparing to bring down an attack on her?” Plet asked.
“Oh, no,” I said, waving a dismissive hand. “If the Autocrat were deposed, Lord Toliaus would be out on his nonexistent ear. No one else likes him. He would defend her safety to the death. She is the source of his influence. She does everything that he tells her to. Yesterday was another Day of Grace, and the number was eleven. She was highly agitated to hear that it’s considered an unlucky number in the Imperium.”
I stopped, surprised by a thought. Parsons eyed me.
“What struck you about that last visit, sir?”
“It wasn’t just the last, but the first as well, Parsons. Toliaus! He came in to tell Visoltia that it was a Day of Grace.”
“The Days of Grace is a very old superstition, my lord,” Parsons said. He sounded dismissive, but he did not have my specialized knowledge.
“Yes, it is. Very old.” I turned on my viewpad and pushed it into the center of the table so it could display the graphics I had discovered. “I had to unearth some ancient stone carvings before I found a mention of it. I think that Lord Toliaus resurrected that tradition for a purpose. He said that the number of grace for that day was five. Jil had to send away two of her ladies so the number remaining was five. But the Autocrat also summoned the High Protector. She told him five, also.”
“What about five?” Redius asked.
I smiled.
“I would wager my tent and all of my divining equipment that the border stations were allowed to admit five ships at each way station on that day.”
Plet checked a list on her own viewpad. “You are right, lieutenant.”
“Good observation,” Redius said.
“So someone is controlling the entry of all ships,” Oskelev said. “To get bribes?”
“To control resources,” Parsons said. “The Autocrat is very young. She does not realize how much power devolves upon those who control supply and demand. I would wager that her influence lies upon many other sources of wealth than shipping. The Autocracy ought to have prospered more than it has since the end of hostilities with the Imperium. It has not, in part because of these artificial limitations. I had suspected it was the High Protector. He has reason to sustain a grudge against the Imperium, but the stricture is not imposed only on ships that originate from the Imperium, nor as we have just seen, it is he who determines how many ships can enter.”
“No,” Plet said, enlightenment dawning on the pale oval of her face. “He’s just being told what to do. The Autocrat has absolute authority. But who has authority over her?”
“Well, Lord Toliaus does,” I said. “He’s the only one who knows how many ships would cross into the Autocracy and when. All he has to do is declare a Day of Grace. I bet he has some kind of financial interest.”
“But is he the mastermind behind a military takeover?” she asked.
“I would hate to think so,” I said. “He is so jealous of anyone else’s authority. It seems completely illogical to attack the Autocrat when she’s the only reason he has any power to begin with.”
“If he is the instigator, he has a different target in mind,” Parsons said. “The High Protector must be informed. But Lord Toliaus cannot be working alone. He must have a network behind him that is planning this attack, led by a trusted ally or allies. The Bertus are the key to finding those others and whatever weapons they brought in. We must confer with Lord Rimbalius.”