Empress Game: The Empress Game Trilogy Book 1 (11 page)

“We don’t have another choice,” Malkor said. “The Wyrds will eventually reclaim the planet. Even trying to hold it this long is draining resources needed elsewhere. Agreeing to withdraw now, and avoiding what could be another half-decade of occupation for them, is our most attractive offer. Something they might consider worth designing a counter-nanovirus for.”

“If holding the planet is so obviously bad for the empire,” Kayla asked, “why do you need me to help solidify your stance against continued occupation at the Game?”

Isonde tapped her fingers on the table in obvious impatience. “Not everyone sees the situation as we do. Most don’t realize how tenuous our hold is there. Some think the empire should devote more resources to the occupation, make Ordoch our foothold in a ludicrous bid to take over Wyrd Space. Some like the glamour and prestige of besting one of the ancient psi races. Others, like many of the Protectorate Planets on the far side of the galaxy, don’t give a damn what happens in Wyrd Space or the rest of the empire, but will vote our way if certain trade demands are met. It’s complicated.”

“Regardless,” Malkor said, “we need to return sovereignty to the Ordochians.” His lips formed a hard line.

“Eradication of the TNV is the top goal,” Isonde said. “Freeing Ordoch is in line with that, so—”

“No. Freeing Ordoch
has
to happen. You and Ardin assured me you would pursue that agenda with or without the Wyrds’ help on the TNV.” His gaze bored into Isonde. The air seemed to heat between them, their words ringing of an oft-held discussion. “I am not going forward with this charade otherwise.”

Isonde met him stare for stare. “Of course we’ll push for a full withdrawal from Wyrd Space. But—” she raised her finger to emphasize her point, “the coup was the right call at the time and you know it, no matter your guilt now.”

Holy—
Kayla’s gaze flashed to Malkor. What guilt? The general sort that came from being part of an unethical organization like the IDC, or the specific kind, the kind that came from bloody hands?

She, along with her brothers and sisters, had been kept apart from the proceedings on Ordoch that led up to the take-over. They’d been segregated from the diplomats, IDC agents and imperial military personnel that had arrived, so she had seen very few of the people involved. Malkor could have been right there, on her homeworld, and she might never have seen him.

Had he murdered her family without provocation, or was he just an agent with a conscience?

“We can finish this debate later,” Isonde said, shooting a pointed look Kayla’s way. “For now, let’s get Evelyn up to speed on politics.”

K
ayla sat at the table in her room, Corinth on one side, Rigger on the other, making stilted small talk with the agent while Corinth watched avidly.

“Sorry about … yesterday.”

Rigger smiled, easing some of Kayla’s tension at having the agent so near her
il’haar
.

“No harm.” Rigger waved her hand. “I’d be protective too.”

She seemed like she meant it.

“Corinth, is it?” Rigger looked to Kayla for confirmation. No use trying to hide Corinth’s name after she’d shouted it. Hopefully it was a common name in the empire. Rigger turned her attention to Corinth. She’d brought a datapad, some sort of device and a toolset with her. “I’ve been thinking about the holofield you generated on Altair Tri,” she said to Corinth, “the one that ran as background sensor trash. Thought maybe you’d like to reconfigure this more sophisticated holofield generator with me, see what we can get it to do.”

::Oooo. Kay, do you mind?::

Rigger’s tone held genuine interest and Corinth eyed the generator like a new toy.

“I’ll get dinner,” she said, trying not to cringe when Corinth slid closer to the agent and the offered electronics. The two were already absorbed in manipulating the field generator when she returned with food.

Kayla stayed with them while she ate, her mind consumed by a single question: who was Malkor? IDC, yes, a senior agent and an octet leader, but beyond that? Who was she working for, and just how deep did his involvement with the Ordochian coup go?

She’d had Corinth run a search for any information on him as soon as she’d gotten back from the meeting, to no avail. The ship lacked access to the imperial data stream while in hyperspace, and sensitive IDC documents weren’t stored in the starcruiser’s database. They’d have to wait until they reached Falanar to gain any insights. That didn’t mean the question didn’t sit heavily on her when she considered her new alliance, though.

Kayla sat near the engrossed Corinth and Rigger for a few more minutes, feeling like an unnecessary bodyguard, but once Corinth assured her—again—that he was fine and happy, she shifted into gear. She had survived the meeting with Isonde earlier and had gotten both a lesson on the political structure of the empire and a homework assignment.

Despite having an emperor, the Sakien Empire was ruled in large part by councils. The planets of the empire were divided into two groups of disparate size. The smaller of the two was the group called the Sovereign Planets. They were the original six planets that defined the empire at its founding, and the Sovereign Council was made up of their number exclusively. The Sovereign Planets were the most advanced, wealthy and powerful planets in the empire, and their council’s decisions dictated much of the goings on within the empire.

The Protectorate Planets were, on the other hand, only loosely confederated, made up of those planets added one by one to the empire as it expanded. The Protectorate Council ruled over matters between the Protectorate Planets, but had scant power to exercise change at the imperial level. The greatest power, however, lay with the Council of Seven. They had ultimate rule over the entire empire, and as the premier governing body decided the fate of the empire. The seven council seats were filled by, at anyone time: the current emperor and empress; the heir to the throne—in this case, Ardin—and his wife, the empress-apparent, who would be chosen at the Empress Game; two members of the Sovereign Council; and one member of the Protectorate Council. Each had one vote on any decision and the majority won.

With Ardin unmarried, his future wife’s seat was taken by a second member of the Protectorate Council. The Empress Game would mark a significant power shift in the Council of Seven.

Kayla drifted over to the complink. With all the talk of political structures and influential members of government today, she hadn’t had a chance to ask one of her biggest questions: why an Empress Game at all? In an empire ruled by an overlap of councils, why was one of the seats on the Council of Seven chosen by means of a hand-to-hand sparring tournament?

She accessed the ship’s databank, looking for answers. A thousand articles met her query for “Empress Game Origins,” but one came from a book titled,
How the Wyrds Shaped Our Identity
, so she started there.

Section 4: The Empress Game

Time and again we’ve seen how the Wyrds, in the short five months they spent in the empire before returning to isolation in Wyrd Space, influenced our traditions. Perhaps their largest contribution to imperial politics comes in the form of the Empress Game.

When the Wyrds first made contact with the empire generations ago, the then-emperor, Shazni Tirefel, became enamored with them, as did the rest of his court. Their culture, fashion, mannerisms and customs were studied to the last detail and anything “Wyrd” became the fad.

The emperor was especially impressed by the fighting prowess of the
ro’haar
among the group. The
ro’haars
competed against each other in friendly tournaments to demonstrate their skills and teach the empire something of
ro’haar
customs. In Wyrd Space these tournaments were common at festivals and holiday celebrations, and were often held when visiting foreign courts. It was a way for
ro’haars
to measure themselves, show off, trade techniques and earn acknowledgement for their skills.

The emperor was so in love with these strong, dedicated and deadly women that when his son Ghirit came of age, he passed an edict that the boy’s bride would be determined in the style of a
ro’haar
tournament. Considering that any female with a claim to power in the empire would be allowed to enter the tournament, the councils adopted the edict immediately. Everyone imagined their sister, niece or daughter winning and becoming the next empress.

The Empress Game has persisted since.

Imperials.
Kayla shook her head at the idiocy. No wonder her people had decided relations with the empire were not worth pursuing and had cut ties. They were like children, aping something they didn’t understand.

She reached for the datapad Malkor had given her—crammed full of information on the influential citizens in the empire. She had to be ready to talk politics with as many of them as possible once they reached Falanar.

With Rigger’s quiet stream of one-way conversation as a background and the excited energy emanating from her
il’haar
lulling her to ease, Kayla settled into the chair for a long, boring night of biography reading.

* * *

Malkor paused in the bathroom, toothbrush halfway to his mouth, staring at the faucet unseeing. His earlier conversation with Isonde played in his head.

“The coup was the right call at the time and you know it, no matter your guilt now.”

He’d rather touch an energy conversion coil than examine his sense of guilt, or even worse, his role in the coup, but couldn’t get those words out of his head. They brought back a similar question raised by his superior, Commander Parrel, when they’d debated the IDC’s actions in the coup.

“If it had turned out successfully, if the Wyrds had agreed to create a counter-nanovirus for us once we’d taken over their planet, would you still feel guilty over what was done?”

Yes. Frutt yes.

…
right?

Fizzled gel dripped from his mouth and he spat before finishing his tooth brushing.

Shadow had surprised him with her pointed questions about the coup. She wasn’t the first person to express a negative opinion of the empire’s handling of the Ordoch occupation, and was certainly not alone in her disapproval, but she was the first he’d met outside of the imperial elite who cared one way or the other. At least now he understood where some of her animosity toward the IDC came from. She might have—

A massive shock rippled through the walls and across the floor, staggering him. He fell to one knee, smashing his forehead on the edge of the sink.

“Frutting—” Another wave crashed through.

What the void? The fingers he pressed to his forehead came back bloodied but he pushed to his feet. He sprinted through the blackness of his cabin with one arm out, catching himself from slamming into his door by picometers. The portals of his room were vacant of the hyperspace glow. Two fumbling attempts at the doorpad opened neither the door nor a comm channel. He slid his hands along the wall, fingertips skimming for a seam.

Thank the stars for remnant mechanical systems.

He found the emergency panel, forced the pressure switch and reached inside the console for the manual door release. Yanking on the lever produced a split between his doors just wide enough to let in an eerie, pulsing blue glow. He pumped the lever again and they spread apart a few centimeters. Three more pumps exhausted the hydraulics of the system, leaving him with a twenty centimeter wide opening and the acrid taste of burning organoplastic.

“Malkor?”

Shadow’s voice came to him over the wailing of alarms.

“Malkor!” Her hands appeared against the edges of his door. He could barely make out her face in the spasmodic light. She managed to slip a shoulder inside, bracing herself against one door panel while she pushed against the other.

He stepped forward to help. “I’m here.”

Her eyes were huge in the dark as she assessed him, gaze flitting to his forehead before refocusing on the doors.

“I have no idea what happened,” she said. She looked fresh from bed in a sleeping tunic and bare feet, one kris strapped to her thigh.

“Is anyone else out yet?” She’d escaped her room before he’d managed to get his doors open. Impressive.

“I don’t know, I looked for you first.” She heaved and he braced a palm against the opposite door, together forcing the two panels apart.

“You all right?” they asked each other at the same time.

Corinth lurked behind her, gripping one of her kris still sheathed. The dagger looked more like a shield than a weapon in his hands.

“Malk?” Hekkar shouted from down the corridor. His second-in-command jogged up and Shadow sidled away.

“I’m good,” Malkor said. “Let’s check on the others.”

All around his octet fought through the frozen doors like divers searching for air. Janeen was already in the hallway, pulling at Vid’s doors, noticeably keeping her weight off one ankle.

“Gio?” he shouted. A mass of twisted wreckage marked Gio’s quarters and blocked the end of the hall. Flaring blue light crested over the pile, offering the only illumination amid the chaos. Various snapping, popping and sparking sounds emanated from beyond the destruction and smoke billowed down the corridor.

“Not sure he’s home, boss,” Hekkar said.

Shadow was yanking on the other side of Vid’s door so Malkor set himself to helping Trinan while Hekkar went for Rigger. Aronse, his last IDC agent, spilled into the hallway as they freed the others.

“What do you know?” Malkor asked.

Janeen replied from where she sat propped up against a bulkhead with Aronse examining her ankle. “Last I heard the hyperdrive was acting twitchy and the captain wanted to drop stream to cool it off.”

“Any idea whose space we’re in?” With so many other things going on he hadn’t followed their stream course.

“None.”

“I think we’re in the Mine Field,” Hekkar shouted.

Wonderful.

The Mine Field was dead space, the wreckage of a war long lost by both sides. It stretched in a void between the farthest Sovereign Planet and the closest Protectorate Planet. A freak exception to kinetic laws drew all of the hyperspace streams in the area through the point, and the same energy anomaly caused disruptions in hyperspace such that fifty percent of ships dropped stream there. Normally they’d have avoided this area of space altogether. Anyone deposited in the Mine Field would have to navigate through the scattered debris with a precision some ships just weren’t capable of, until they reached one edge of the field and had the jumping room for a hyperstream launch.