The Scarlet Empress (33 page)

Cam rubbed her hands together to bleed off some of her nervous energy. “First we give it a patriotic paint job—stars and stripes—and send it out on its first official, operational mission in one hundred and fifty years to
remind the colonists what they’ve lost—and what they can win back if they stand up to oppression. I think it’ll work, Kyber. By firing up the masses, building on what Bree has done, but more explosively, we can speed the fall of the UCE, and without mass death and destruction. There’s historical precedent for it. Look at how the Iron Curtain fell in Eastern Europe back in the twentieth century. Communism ended there without war. We can do the same in Central. I
know
we can.”

She waved a hand at him. “Okay. You can talk now.”

The ends of his mouth twitched. “Are you certain?”

“Yes. I’m done.”

Squeezing her sweaty hands behind her back she awaited his answer. She’d never seen his eyes this intense. The look on his face sent a shiver through her.

“We will need more than a patriotic paint scheme to achieve the desired result,” he said.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you saying?”

“I agree with your strategy. It needs more developing, yes, but I believe that with the right execution, it can work.”

Her heart started thumping hard with joy. “You’re in? I thought I was in for a fight, most likely a futile one.”

“Let’s just say that my sleepless night was unexpectedly constructive.”

He smiled at her astonishment and pleasure before regaining an expression of grim determination. “Peace with the UCE government in this matter is akin to an alliance with them, and that I will not have. I also do not want my kingdom to appear to be involved in the revolution in an overt, militaristic way. Not only would it be seen as an act of aggression by the UCE and the Euro-African
Consortium, it would likely cause the new nation of Central to feel indebted to me, should the revolution be successful. They’ll chafe at the perceived obligation, causing a new rift where I hope to close an old one. And, speaking of closing rifts,” he said, softer. “It appears we have one of our own.”

Cam shook her head. “Not anymore,” she whispered and walked into his arms.

As powerful as their desire was for each other, they slept in Kyber’s huge bed and didn’t make love. If Cam’s mission was to come to pass, Kyber insisted, sleep would help keep her alive.

During those few hours of rest, Kyber’s teams of engineers and mechanics worked nonstop on the F-16. By the time Cam and Kyber arrived in the hangar, the aircraft was undergoing the final stages of its transformation from museum piece to a symbol powerful enough to cause a spontaneous change of government in Central and save Bree at the same time.

Kyber folded his thick arms over his leather breastplate and murmured to Cam, “There have been many improvements installed on this craft—the best stealth tech money can buy, structural strengthening and an upgraded fuel system to allow you to fly at supersonic speeds from Beijing to Washington, but I think the most important one of all will be your ability to nanowrite.”

Cam nodded. “Agreed.” Instead of bombs and guns, she’d unleash a futuristic version of skywriting: threedimensional images with sound. She’d fill the skies above the Capitol with nanites—microscopic computers programmed
for a patriotic super show of stars and stripes, the old national anthem, while Kyber worked things from his end: transmitting a taped address on the Inter-web, where he’d publicly declare his support of the colonists of Central as well as ask for the cooperation of the other world leaders.

“This kingdom has never chosen sides before,” he reminded her. “By not doing so, we are in fact supporting the wrong people. That, I will not stand for.”

As the retrofitting of the F-16 for enhanced operation neared completion, Nikolai and Minister Hong joined Cam and Kyber. “We are ready to proceed when you are,” the chief told them.

“I’m ready now,” Cam said. “Bree’s in trouble and time’s running out for me to help her.”

“You will have quite the craft with which to offer that help,” Hong said. In his typically elegant fashion, hands clasped behind his back, he observed the jet with an air of vague disdain.

“What is it, Horace?” she teased. “Is it not as cool as your twenty-second century craft?”

He smiled charmingly. “Not even close.”

She smiled back just as charmingly. “We’ll have to agree to disagree, then. The Viper is as good as they come—and then some.”

As Nikolai and Kyber murmured between themselves, Hong continued to walk around the fuselage, a strange expression coming over his face as he appeared to inspect the aircraft for abnormalities. Was he nervous, too? It was contagious, she thought. Her mouth was dry, and her heart was racing, but she worked at appearing calm so as
not to upset Kyber. He was worried about her. If his doubts grew enough, he could pull the plug on the entire mission.

A commotion broke out near the entrance to the hangar. “Stop him—stop!” A small figure—a woman, judging by the sound of the voice—swathed in dove-gray raced toward the plane. Arms held straight out, she aimed a pistol at the minister. “Throw down your weapon,” she yelled.

His eyebrow lifted. “I believe you are the one with the weapon.”

“What’s going on here?” Kyber asked.

“He’s going to kill you,” the hooded woman cried. “And then destroy the plane.”

Hong rolled his eyes, seemingly unafraid of the gun aimed at his head. “Oh, please. Who
is
this woman?”

Something about the man seemed too cool.
Don’t trust Hong.
Zhurihe’s warning clanged in Cam’s head. She grabbed Kyber’s arm. Who was this woman? And . . . “What if she’s telling the truth?”

Security rushed in. Kyber ordered irritably, “Take her away.”

“But what about Hong?” Cam demanded.

Kyber shook his head. “Hong is—”

“Going to kill you!” the stranger shouted.

“Put down your weapon,” Nikolai shouted back.

“Then he’s going to make sure your F-16 crashes!”

Rolling his eyes, Hong started walking toward where Cam stood with Kyber. A gunshot rang out.

Hong staggered, his face paling in shock and surprise. Cam watched in horror as the woman lowered her smoking pistol. She’d shot Hong in the back.

Kyber and Nikolai ran to the Minister. “No!” the woman shouted, lifting her pistol. “Your Highness, beware of Hong! Stay down! Stay down!”

Cam saw Hong reach inside his coat, as if feeling for his injury. But instinct overtook her. She shoved Kyber away as Hong pulled a gun and aimed it at the prince.

Kyber took her down with him, grasping her arm and pulling. They hit the floor hard, Kyber using his body as a shield. He rolled with Cam away from the sounds of gunshots as security forces swarmed into the hangar. The gunfire continued.

Suddenly, the scene was silent.

When Cam next looked up, police surrounded Hong, but it was clear to her the Minister was dead. The grayclothed stranger also lay in a pool of blood. Cam got up and walked closer. It was a young woman with two long braids.

“Oh, Lord. Oh, mercy.” Cam fell to her knees. “What’s happened, Zhurihe? What are you doing?”

The girl shuddered as if in great pain. “Hong was acting on orders. I had to stop him.”

“Whose orders?” Kyber demanded as he appeared behind them.

“Beauchamp,” Zhurihe said, panting. “The UCE.”

“How do you know this?”

“I’m a clone,” the girl answered in a self-deprecating tone. “I’m stupid. Unaware. And I enjoyed cleaning his quarters when I knew he was receiving the president’s messages.”

Cam heard the creaking of leather as Kyber crouched down next to her. His face reflected his shock and deep concern at what Zhurihe had just confessed.

The girl looked up at Cam. “Hong was why I wanted to keep you out of the palace. You thought I sought only to lie. I did lie, but this man was the reason. It was to keep you away from him. I knew Hong sent the assassins after Bree and Ty, paid for by Beauchamp.” Zhurihe winced and shuddered. A drop of blood appeared at one corner of her mouth.

“Where are the medical people, Kyber?” Cam asked. She looked up at him.

He stood and shouted, “Where is the emergency medical staff?” transferring Cam’s question to his police.

Shaking her head, Cam cradled Zhurihe’s face in her hands. “But why,” she whispered. “Why did you do all this? And at such personal risk?”

“I didn’t want Hong to succeed, because I hate the UCE.”

“That seems to be a universal sentiment around here,” Cam muttered.

“I’d also come to hate the prince for not caring about the rights of clones.”

“Not caring? I . . .” Kyber exhaled. “The act of doing nothing has cost me much.”

Cam rubbed her hand over his broad back.

“But I saw you changing, Your Highness,” Zhurihe whispered. “I saw in you a possible ally, someone who would do great good for
all
peoples. I saw Cam’s trust in you. And what with your love for her, I saw a chance to establish through marriage an alliance between this kingdom and others that would prove stronger than any treaty.”

Cam and Kyber exchanged a quick, startled glance. Love? Marriage? Cam felt heat flare in her cheeks. They’d only just met.

“Most of all, I wanted to matter.” Zhurihe’s breaths stuttered. “As a clone . . . an insignificant clone . . . I wanted to prove we could . . . make a difference in this world.”

Cam took the dying girl’s hand. “You do matter. You’ll always matter. And know you changed the world today, Zhurihe.”

The clone’s mouth gave a wry twist. Then she seemed to let go. Cam knew the moment Zhurihe died, for the spark went out in the girl’s dark eyes.

Lovingly Cam smoothed her hand over the girl’s face, closing her eyelids.

Then she demanded angrily, “It’s a little late now, but why didn’t anyone come? Where were the doctors?”

As she asked the question, medical people finally entered the hangar. “She’s dead.” Cam stood, shaking. “What took you so long?”

A physician turned to Kyber, clearly at a loss. “We were told it was a clone.”

Kyber took Cam into his arms. He said nothing to the doctor. Like Cam, he realized it was too late.

“
Why
aren’t they seen as people?” she asked.

“The topic spurs debates all over the kingdom,” he said, low in her ear. “In your time, people debated whether or not those still in the womb were people. This is no different. As our machines become self-aware, we will undoubtedly debate their humanity, as well.” His voice turned thoughtful. “They will be important, those debates. What decisions we make will ultimately define us as a civilization.”

“When this war is over, I’ll take up Zhurihe’s fight,” Cam said with determination.

Kyber pressed his lips to her forehead.

“And it may never be over unless I get my butt in that jet.”

She saw the anguish on his face. “No,” he said. “I cannot do this. I cannot send you off to do this alone. I’ll . . . go in your place.”

“You don’t know how to fly an F-16.”

“Then I’ll find another way.”

“We don’t need another way, Kyber. You’re already in this up to your ears—with all your forces behind us, your public broadcast in support of the rebels, your denouncement of the military buildup in Washington . . .”

“Hmm,” he grumbled, appearing unconvinced.

“You’re an Emperor, I’m a fighter pilot. This is what I do best.”

So many emotions filled his gray eyes. She felt each as powerfully as if it were her own. “This is what I do,” she said, quieter. “And this”—she waved her hand toward the hangar entrance, where supporters looked on from behind ropes—“is what you do.”

With a sound full of pain he drew her close. She knew she had to hurry, to reach Bree before things got worse at the Capitol, but, stunned by Zhurihe and Hong’s deaths and apprehensive of the mission yet to come, she savored her few moments in Kyber’s embrace.

“I want you to be part of my life, Cameron Tucker,” he murmured. “To be part of my future.”

She shook her head. “Was that a proposal?”

“It can be if you’re ready. Otherwise, call it a statement of my intent. I have fallen in love with you.”

“Oh, Kyber. I don’t know . . . ,” she whispered. “I don’t want to promise anything I can’t deliver. I’m flying off to maybe die, Kyber. Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t feel good
about making any promises until I know I have a shot at coming back. I left a man behind in my first life. No, I didn’t feel about him the way I do about you, but he loved me. I never came back.”

Kyber’s voice was gentle and deep. “And here I thought I was the one afraid to make a commitment for fear of loss.”

“Not my loss—yours! You’d be the one hurt. I’d be . . . well, dead.”

“Don’t forget, pretty one, loss is a subject I know as well as you. But if you wish, I’ll wait for an answer. You must return first.” He gripped her shoulders. “Which you will.”

She nodded. “And meanwhile, you can make sure you really want me as your wife. It would be a political position as much as a family one. For so long, your country has been so against the UCE. It’d be a new nation, but the people are the same. I wouldn’t want my involvement to embarrass you or make you unhappy. I’m going to do whatever I can to see that democracy returns to my homeland.” He answered with a nod, but she knew he wasn’t happy—not only about her reluctance to give him an answer, but also with the prospect of her flying off to fight. “This is
what I do,
” she reminded him in a quiet voice. “What I need from you right now is your protection, your satellites tracking me, helping make sure I don’t get shot out of the sky before I get there, all while we try not to do anything to inadvertently start World War Three.”

“Four,” Nikolai corrected as he walked up to them. “We’ve already had three.”

“Then let’s not have any more,” she said.

Not seeming to care that his chief of security was nearby, Kyber swept her into a kiss. Only with clear reluctance did he let her go. “Come back to me, pretty one,” he said as she backed away, their hands still clasped.

“I want to,” she whispered. “More than anything.”