Tides of Maritinia (12 page)

Pol was right. My mission was to foment discontent, to create chaos and anarchy. The Empire's contingent was coming on just a single transport vessel. Fifty soldiers and another fifty administrators was all the Empire could spare for this far-­flung world. I had to make sure they didn't face an organized defense.

And the admiral was falling into right into my hands.

I should've been elated. Head-­over-­heels happy. But that wasn't what I felt.

Instead, I was disturbed. Disturbed to the core. I was in the presence of true madness. And if I didn't watch my step, I'd soon be caught in the flood of unrestrained paranoia.

The Falali Mother broke the quiet. “How can you sit there and accuse us of sympathizing with the Empire? It's the Kwuba who have been doing the Empire's dirty work for the last two thousand years.”

The admiral sat up straight, causing the shirt of his uniform to pull free from his beltline. “All the more reason the Jebyl want their revenge.”

“But that's crazy.”

The admiral nodded as if his large head were a boulder teetering on a cliff above us all.

Captain Mmirehl jumped to the admiral's defense like the toady he was. “Nothing crazy about it. In fact, we found the body of a spy earlier today. The Jebyl resistance wants to destroy our independence. They'll bring back the Empire and impose their will upon the rest of us.”

“Shame on you both,” she said, stern eyes attempting to stare them down. “I'll hear no more of this hateful talk.”

Mmirehl clucked his tongue. “And why do you deny the truth? Could it be you yourself are part of—­”

“Enough of this,” interrupted the admiral. “Tell me, Dearest Mother, will you make a statement or not?”

“Are you willing to admit Jebyl into your government?”

“No.”

She crossed her arms. “Then I won't make a statement.”

The admiral stood and pulled his uniform shirt down where it had crept up his belly. “We are done here.”

“Shall I send her back to Selaita?” asked Mmirehl.

“No,” he said with another of his grim smiles, teeth lined up like gravestones. “Lock her up until she changes her mind.”

 

CHAPTER 15

“Starat a fire and there'sno telling where it might spreadr.”

–
J
AKOB
B
RYCE

S
ali passed me a drink before setting the bottle on the floor and taking the chair next to mine. I tapped the paper globe over my head, and firefly light slowly seeped toward the edges of the small rooftop patio atop Kell's house. My house.

I looked to the sky, a vast black canvas spray-­painted with a sparse coat of sparkling pinholes of light. I turned my gaze northward, where the pinpricks thickened into a spotted mass. The heart of the Empire. I stared into the thick swath of suns and felt the burdens of duty and home staring back.

For Sire and Empire.

I took a whiff of the unidentified liquid in my glass, my nose wrinkling as the burn of alcohol tingled up my nostrils. I put the glass to my lips and took a long, flavorful draw. I didn't need my cheek bite getting infected, so I steeled myself against the sting as I swished the alcohol around my mouth.

“You better enjoy it because it's our last bottle,” Sali said with a bitter edge. She'd been like this since we left the Ministry, her needle-­tipped tongue shooting poison darts. A glance at the bottle told me a good portion had already disappeared.

I took another sip. The booze tasted silky and smooth, as good as anything from home. “We can buy more tomorrow.”

“There's no more to buy. They stopp-­ed importing it months ago. Haven't you seen how few ships drop to the surface now? I'd be surprise-­ed if more than one lands each week.”

I stayed silent and took another swig. Fruity undertones put the alcohol in the brandy family, and the satiny finish said it had been aged a good long time.

“You lie-­ed to me,” she said with the harshness of cheap bootleg.

I took another look at the bottle on the floor and measured the empty space with my eyes. She had to be three or four drinks in. “Lied about what?”

“You said over and over that independence would bring opportunity. You said it enough, I believe-­ed you. But look what's happen-­ed. Kelp exports are down 80 percent. Tea and wine are so expensive that only the richest Kwuba can afford them.”

“It will take time.”

“You should've seen what I saw when I went to visit my mother. Kelp farmers don't know what to do with themselves. Half of them still harvest because it's what they've always done even though most of their harvest rots in place. The other half rot their brains trying to get high off fermenting puffer-­fish fumes.”

She downed the rest of her glass and poured another. “You knew the market for kelp would dry up without the Empire, didn't you?”

said Pol.

Pol was right. And I might as well admit it. “I knew.”

“That makes you a liar. How could you do that to me? How can you call yourself Hero of Maritinia?”

I tried to shrug off the accusation, knowing it was Kell who had told her that particular lie. But I was a liar, too. Everything I'd done since I met her was a lie. “I never called myself that. Others did. I did what I had to do.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“It's the truth.”

“You lie-­ed to the Falali Mother. You lie-­ed to fool her into coming.”

I turned to her. “You think I knew your father planned to lock her up?”

Her eyes shone intensely under the dim light. She leaned in my direction, her hands gripping her armrests tight enough to make the wicker creak. “You tell me.”

I downed the rest of my drink before responding in a sober tone. “I thought he was genuine in wanting to reach out to the Jebyl. I wouldn't have gone through the ceremony if I'd known it was all for show.”

She stared at me for a few seconds, apparently trying to read my face. Finally, she relaxed into her chair. “He use-­ed us.”

“He did.” I reached for the bottle and poured myself a second drink. Putting the bottle down, I startled a crab into scuttling for the roof's edge. “I was proud of you the way you stood up to him earlier.”

“A lot of good it did. He can be so difficult.”

“Why is he so obsessed with the Jebyl?”

She shook her head slow. “Captain Mmirehl is the real problem. He's always planting hateful seeds in my father's mind.”

said Pol.

I slugged my drink down.

His tone was cold.

I reached for the bottle.

Frosty silence took hold.

Nothing. The rabbit hole in my mind had iced over. The chill crept toward my heart. Pol was supposed to be my closest ally. My only ally.

“More?” asked Sali.

I threw my drink down my throat and gladly held out my glass.

“Sorry,” she said, as the bottle's neck wavered over the glass. “I may have had too much.” She spilled a few drops down my wrist but managed to get the rest into my glass.

I sat back in my chair and defiantly kept my eyes on the sky, so Pol couldn't see me take her hand.

I tried to push him out of my mind. He was overreacting. While I might not have followed every one of his directions down to the minutest detail, the success of the results were speaking for themselves. It was time he started trusting my abilities.

Speakers crackled in the distance, and the skyscreens lit with a live shot of Admiral Mnai's grim face. He wore a tall green cap on his head, its straight black brim forming a triangle with his downturned brows. A billowing emerald scarf wrapped his neck and disappeared beneath his uniform jacket.

He stood inside the Ministry's control center, a sprawl of video screens flanking him on both sides. When he spoke, his voice was firm. Somber.

­People of Free Maritinia, I come to you with disturbing news. There are spies among us.
He sneered at the camera.
Spies.

Thanks to the vigilance of some honorable fishermen, we've capture-­ed our first spy. A series of interrogations have reveal-­ed plots of staggering dimensions. One of the most insidious was a plot to assassinate our revere-­ed Falali Mother. Fear not, because this scheme has been foil-­ed, but as a precaution, the Falali Mother has chosen to go into hiding.

I bowed my head. The man had no shame.

You see what is happening, don't you? The Empire seeks to subvert our freedom. They plan to destroy the new world we are building together, and they want to punish us for our defiance.

We cannot let this happen.
He dropped a fist into his palm.

We must resist with all of our might. That is why I've install-­ed a missile-­defense system. When the new contingent arrives, we will blast their ship out of the sky and joyously watch its fiery remains fall into the sea.

But spies are another matter. They cannot be defeat-­ed through force. They hide among us, posing as friends and family. They pretend to be our brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, wives, husbands, and lovers. But they are not true Maritinians.

They are parasites. They latch onto our skin like lampreys and suck our blood. They are leeches who hide in the crevices, and they must be eradicate-­ed.

That is why I've order-­ed the creation of a new branch of government, the ­People's Protection Force. Tomorrow, we begin the process of appointing officers in every city and every village. We seek all able-­bodied patriots who want to help their world stay free. And for all other lovers of liberty, I beseech you to report any and all suspicious activities.

The screens blinked out. I looked left and right at the ­people on the neighboring rooftops. I could see them talking, but I couldn't make out the words. I looked at Sali but couldn't see her eyes.

I looked inside myself and couldn't believe what I'd started.

I reached for the bottle. It had no chance of lasting the night.

 

CHAPTER 16

“Stay onne stepahead of your enemy. Easy to do when you know whre they're goingg.”

–
J
AKOB
B
RYCE

F
lanked by two guards, I walked up the pier. The sun continued its slow descent, now just four fingers from dipping into the salty bath. Bright rays reflected off the Ministry domes and drilled into my pained pupils. This hangover had been dragging me down the entire day. I told Pol.

Still no response.

On one level, I understood why he was so upset. He felt my affection for Sali was causing him to lose control of me. But I knew better. He didn't understand ­people. How could he when he wasn't a person himself?

I waved good-­bye to my escort and turned for the missile platform. The tower wasn't any taller than it had been yesterday, but its skeletal frame was now fleshed into a sturdy structure. The launcher had been mounted on top, its two arms stretching left and right like the wings of a giant eagle feathered with missiles.

Approaching the section of collapsed stone, I stepped onto the makeshift bridge, lagoon to my left, open seas to my right, the two kissing under my feet. I marched past the guards as the barge set sail, workmen waving from the railings.

A voice called at my back. “Colonel!”

I looked over my shoulder to find Dugu hustling up. His face was perfectly round, a crescent-­shaped smile cupping his nose. I'd forgotten what he looked like without that camera covering his face.

“How's the cheek, sir?” he asked.

“Getting better.”

“My family wait-­ed up for me to get home last night. They couldn't believe I was actually onstage for the ceremony. Everybody's talking about it.”

I smiled as best I could.

“Do you think the angry souls really kiss-­ed you?”

“I have no idea.” And I didn't. “You know what, Dugu? I was wondering if you wanted to take a permanent post with me?”

“Sir?”

“I want you to be my guard as well as my personal assistant.”

“Really?” His chest puffed to equal the girth of his belly.

“Absolutely.”

“When do I start?”

“Right now. I'll leave it to you to tell my regular detail they've been dismissed.”

I headed for the tower with my new assistant in tow.

Captain Mmirehl stood in front of the tower, watching me approach. Cocking his chin in the direction of the departing barge, he said, “They're all done. The platform is totally operational.”

“Good.”

“Where have you been all day?”

“Home. Where's Mathus? I need to talk to him.”

“Why?”

“I want to see what he thinks of a tent.”

“A tent for what?”

“We need to cover this tower,” I said. “When the Empire comes, we don't want them to see it from space.”

“They can see from space?”

I nodded.

Mmirehl rubbed his chin. “I'll order it done.”

“You don't want to talk to Mathus first?”

“Mathus is gone. His work here was finish-­ed.”

The voice in my head took me by surprise.

W
e passed another hatch with a sign hanging on the wheel lock:
Flooded.
It seemed that almost half of the underwater structure had been abandoned to the sea. When the Empire returned, the engineers would have to make fixing the water pumps their top priority.

Dugu pointed a finger down a long corridor. “I think they lock-­ed her up somewhere down there.”

We marched forward, our shoes slapping at the thin film of water on the rusted-­steel floor. Another left, and we found a pair of guards standing outside a hatch. Stepping up, I waved them aside.

“No, sir,” said the one of the left. “I'm afraid I can't do that.”

I straightened my spine and leveled an authoritative stare. “Excuse me?”

“Captain Mmirehl's orders,” said the one on the right.

“I may be a foreigner and therefore an honorary colonel in this Navy, but I'm still a colonel. Move aside.”

Standing at attention, he stared past me. “We cannot comply without direct orders from the captain, sir.”

“Step aside, soldier,” I growled, “or I'll feed you to the cuda.”

The one on the left said, “I'm sorry, sir, but we answer to nobody but Captain Mmirehl. We are members of the ­People's Protection Force now.” He held up a fist for me to see. Long urchin spines had been run through the skin covering his knuckles, blood oozing from the fresh puncture wounds. The second soldier showed his fists, his swollen knuckles freshly tattooed to look like teeth.

I asked Pol.

Sensing my confusion, Dugu put a hand on my shoulder and leaned toward my ear. “It's an old tradition among warriors, sir. When they touch their fingertips to their hearts in greeting, they want ­people to see their knuckles and know that their generosity has limits.”

“Charming.”

“All of the PPF recruits are getting their knuckles adorn-­ed.”

Captain Mmirehl came from around the corner. “What's going on here?”

“Tell your men to step aside.”

A grin leaked across his narrow face, and his eyes danced along with his one-­word response. “No.”

My lips were squeezed tight, same as my fists. “You can't keep me out.”

“Per the admiral's order, the ­People's Protection Force is a wholly independent branch of the military. Nobody goes through that hatch without my approval.”

It was becoming obvious Mmirehl's secret police wasn't an overnight invention. He'd launched it with such efficiency, it must've been in the works for months. All he'd needed was an excuse to enact it, and my botched body disposal had served that excuse to him with butter and jam.

I crossed my arms to say I wasn't going anywhere. “I demand to see the Falali Mother.”

“Is that all?” He pointed at the hatch behind my back. “She's in there.”

My brows bunched up, and I pointed straight ahead. “Then what are they guarding in there?”

Mmirehl stepped between his guards and spun the hatch's wheel lock. He opened the latch with a clank and swung open the door. He ducked to get through, and without even a glance in my direction, he pulled the hatch closed behind him.

The wheel lock spun and stopped with a hollow clang.

Stunned, I stared at the closed hatch.

“What's going on in there?” I asked the guards.

“Sorry, sir,” came the response.

I looked at Dugu, who shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

“Fine,” I said with a throw of my hands. “Fine.”

I turned around and opened the hatch to the Falali Mother's cabin. No, not her cabin. Her cell.

Leaving Dugu in the corridor, I ducked inside. The cabin was a long rectangle except for the slightly curved outer wall from which two portholes stared like a pair of charcoal eyes, the left with a rivulet of tears trickling down the wall to form a small puddle on the floor. A single chair gave the face a nose, the Falali Mother perched atop with her knees hugged to her chest.

“Where's your sleeping mat?”

“I don't have one.”

“Where did you sleep?”

“I didn't.” She kept her voice level.

I poked my head back out into the corridor. “Get her a sleeping mat, Dugu.” Looking at the other guards, I asked, “Have you been feeding her?”

“I ate,” I heard her say behind me.

I craned my neck to look at her. “Bathroom?”

“They bring a bucket when I ask for it.”

“Has anybody come to see you?”

“You're the first.”

“They can't treat you like this. You're not a common criminal.”

She stared down her nose at me, no easy trick from her seated position. “You are most obviously incorrect.”

Her headdress sat piled on the floor, and her sandals marked the place her feet would be if she didn't have them pulled up. Her eyes sat in sockets that sagged like dishrags.

Without turning around, I called to the corridor, “And bring a washtub with soap!”

I sat on the floor, my back against the wall. “I didn't know the Admiral planned to lock you up.”

“I know you didn't. I've come to know you better than that over the last few years. How's Sali handling this?”

“We both drank the night away.”

“You have to watch out for her. Her flow is a turbulent one, but she carries the spirit of Falal in her heart.”

“Indeed.” I didn't want to praise Sali further for fear of sending Pol into another fit.

The Falali Mother pointed at the open hatch door. I pushed it shut with my foot.

“I won't make a statement,” she said.

“Of course not. I've come to know you better than that, too.”

“Have they said anything about me to the public?”

“They made up a fake assassination plot and said you were in hiding.”

She rolled her eyes. “The admiral is beyond hope, isn't he?”

“He's not currently open to reason. That's for certain.”

“So how are we going to get me out of here?”

“We have to convince the admiral to let you go.”

“And how do we do convince him?”

“With the truth. We spread word that you're being held against your will.”

“His regime must fall,” she said.

said Pol.