Endgame

Page 3

“I did. The Conglomerate rep said they’ll review it and respond within sixty days.”
“It will be more like a turn,” Loras mutters.
Leviter shakes his head. “Six months. I can pull a few strings.”
“He has a way of collecting favors,” Tarn explains.
“That will be helpful down the line.” I drain my kaf.
Leviter didn’t touch his drink; I wonder if he’s the paranoid type who never eats anything he didn’t prepare himself; he gives off that vibe. Seems like it would be hard to love a man like that, but he’s probably different, alone with Tarn. He’d have to be.
“I’ll be in touch,” Leviter says.
CHAPTER 3
Life is damned frustrating at the moment.
It’s been nine days since my aborted lunch with Legate Flavius, four days since we consulted with Tarn and Leviter. I feel like getting stone drunk, but that won’t help. Instead, I have a meeting with the people Loras has been working with; they form the core of our rebellion. He’s picked up support quietly in the city, offering the cure to those who want it and are willing to fight for the cause. Zeeka works in the lab with Loras, producing the cure in small quantities. It’s illegal, but at this point, I don’t care.
The justice system is totally fragged.
Zeeka, a fine specimen of adult Mareq male, follows me on bare, webbed feet. He eschews clothing when we’re at home though he conforms anytime we go out. Which means he’s got on a shirt and trousers today. His hide is mottled green with brown spots, and he has a pale belly. Huge, muddy eyes dominate a round face, and the curved slit of his mouth makes him look like he’s perpetually smiling. He can also puff out his throat if he’s pissed off or feeling playful. It amazes me that I’ve known this kid since he came out of an egg. He’s got an eagerness and a zest for life that never fails to move me.
I face forward, keeping an eye on Vel and Loras in front of me. To be honest, I don’t even know where we are. Loras leads us through a complex system of tunnels below the city streets. Along the way, Vel disables a few bots and wipes their memory cores, so they won’t show a record of our passage. Loras taps a code on a security panel, and the door slides open. There are forty people in the room, an open storage chamber with scuff marks on the floor and trails in the dust to show that things have been moved recently.
Vel leans in. “They keep furniture here for formal state occasions. They have set up for a ball up top, and this room will be vacant for several hours.”
It’s just storage, but spyware won’t penetrate walls this thick, and you can tell at a glance there’s nothing present. No panels to slide aside, no holes hiding video equipment. That reassures skittish volunteers that they won’t be arrested as soon as they walk out the door. The fear on their faces reinforces the risk we’re taking. Yet none of them leave, even as others join us.
At last, all fifty of the La’hengrin arrive. At this point, Loras outlines his plan. While I was trying to work within the system, he cured people; he recruited and convinced them he has the wherewithal to change the world. He is…amazing.
A lovely, red-haired woman puts up her hand. “Is the base completed?”
Loras has been quietly requisitioning supplies and equipment, constructing our secret ops center in a mountain range to the north. I haven’t been there yet, but it’s nearly ready to go. From there, our intelligence division will coordinate strikes and relay messages.
“It will be sufficient for us to commence operations in a couple of weeks.”
“Do we have enough personnel?” I ask.
If we hit hard and fast on multiple fronts—with the right spin, the Conglomerate will declare La’heng a red port, which means local conditions are unstable to the point of being unsafe for interstellar travel. They’ll lock La’heng down, giving us the freedom to fight without worrying about reinforcements from Nicuan. And Imperial forces can’t take on the whole Conglomerate, even to help their beleaguered colonists. That will give us time to deploy the cure to the La’hengrin and train them to fight back on their own behalf.
“Enough to run the first mission and get the planet coded red. I’ll need Leviter’s help with that. You’re still in touch with him?”
I nod.
“Contact them. I’ll go over your agenda with you privately.”
Which I take to mean, Shut up and let me talk. I comply; Loras is awesome when he shifts into command mode. Zeeka puffs his throat at me in an affectionate taunt, and I grin back. Mary, it feels good to be starting phase two. I’m not naturally patient or tolerant.
It takes another hour for him to run down assignments, then the crew breaks up. I won’t see everyone again until we move to the base. I hate to leave the house Vel bought; it’s been as much a home to me as anywhere I’ve lived in the last ten turns. Which isn’t saying much, I suppose. I’ve been on ships since I was thirteen, apart from a hellish six months at boarding school and my stint at the nav-training academy on New Terra.
The red-haired woman lingers until I make eye contact. Then she offers her hand. “I’m Farah.”
The La’heng are an attractive people, but Farah’s skin glows with a luminous quality; her eyes are the green of a verdant hillside. And her hair gleams like pure, untarnished copper. When you combine that with a heart-shaped face, full lips, and a pointed chin, it’s hard to look away from her.
“Nice to meet you.” I figure there’s some reason she’s introduced herself.
“He told me”—she jerks her head at Loras—“that you once held his shinai-bond.”
Oh, Mary. I can’t imagine this conversation leading anywhere good.
“I did. Not on purpose, though. It kind of just happened.”
I did help him. On Lachion, when he was dying from damage inflicted by the savage Teras, I saved his life when the others paid him no attention at all. In most ways, my lover, March, is a good person, better than me, and if I were capable of hating him, it wouldn’t be for wrongs he’s done me—there’ve been some over the turns—but for how March treated Loras when he held the shinai-bond. At the moment, he’s on Nicu Tertius, raising his nephew to be a productive member of society, despite powerful Psi ability that might otherwise cripple the kid. The long-distance aspect of our relationship has been tough. But in regard to Loras, he had a blind spot—and he treated our mutual friend with the casual discrimination that’s excused because everyone does it.
But it’s still not all right.
Farah watches my face while these thoughts tumble through my head. What she sees makes her smile. “I wanted to thank you for that.”
“Really?” I ask, surprised.
“Yes. If not for you, I wouldn’t be free. Your guilt drove you to help your friend, and the result makes up for what came before.”
From her insight, it’s clear that Loras confides in her. She’s somebody I need to get to know better, when time permits. But he’s already at the door, beckoning me, every bit the impatient general. I murmur my excuses and stride away.
“Come,” Loras orders. “I’ll brief you on the way.”
After I hear him out regarding the interdiction on La’heng’s ports, I nod. “I’ll contact Leviter and Tarn tonight.”
“Excellent.” He turns to Zeeka. “How are you coming with the demolitions training? I need a specialist.”
The Mareq gives his wide, openmouthed smile. “As best I can. It’s hard to locate helpful texts. The ones I do find are old or outdated.”
Yeah, for obvious reasons, the Nicuan nobles don’t want the La’hengrin having access to that kind of information. Though they can’t fight, I’m not clear on how far the boundaries stretch. Could they trap an expanse of land? The result would certainly be aggressive, but since they wouldn’t be doing it directly…well, I’ll have to ask Loras. It might be a loophole we can use out in the provinces.
Zeeka goes on, “But Vel is helping me.”
On some planets, you could totally get an annex class in How to Blow Things Up, but La’heng isn’t one of them. The nobility controls credits, policy, and education, all the better to keep the natives ignorant and subservient. There’s an underclass among the Nicuan, too, but they had the opportunity to learn before they arrived on world, along with the rest of the house retinue.
Loras nods. “Keep at it. I need you ready to go in three weeks. Will you be set then?”
“I will be.” This kid—he’s an adult, but it’s hard for me to think of him as such since I’ve known him since he was a tadpole—gives 110 percent.
The Mareq have relatively short life spans. They’re grown by five, middle-aged by twenty, and die between forty and forty-five turns. Fortunately, they breed and gestate fast—and in large numbers. They also possess the J-gene, which is rare and lets them navigate faster-than-light ships. Few humans have the capability, and NBS—Navigator Burnout Syndrome—has led to a dearth of jumpers who can take ships safely through grimspace. It’s possible that in a hundred turns, the Mareq will solve the navigator shortage; the star roads will be full of Mareq. When I realize I’ll likely live to find out—via the experimental nanites that prevent normal aging—the epiphany startles me.
Damn. Loras is talking, and I’ve missed half of it. I glance at Vel, who inclines his head. He’ll catch me up if I pretend to be current for the rest of the conversation. I tune in with renewed focus.
“…so it all hinges on Leviter and Tarn. This attack, in and of itself, won’t be enough to get the planet locked down.”
“There will be damage on multiple fronts,” I say, “but not the kind that closes ports.”
“Exactly. We need spin.”
I nod. “Leviter’s specialty.”
“March is coming, isn’t he?” Loras asks. “Four or five days from now?”
Oh, March. At last. Mentally, I do a happy dance, but I don’t show any of my euphoria or trepidation. Outwardly, I’m cool.
“His visit won’t affect the timetable. He’s staying for two weeks, and you have us scheduled to move in three.”
“I wasn’t questioning your right to have visitors, Jax.” Loras aims a smirk at me.
“I sounded defensive as hell, didn’t I?”
Zeeka says, “Pretty much.”
This can only lead to ribbing, so I zip my lips for the remainder of our walk. When we get back to the house, Vel updates me with the rest of Loras’s strategy, and it’s solid. Though I’m not a tactician myself, I appreciate a cunning plan.
In the morning, I set up a meeting with Tarn and Leviter. It doesn’t take long to explain what we need, and Leviter agrees to do his part. On the bounce, he can make the attacks look worse than they are, and he can pull the strings on high-ranking officials to push for getting La’heng classified as a red port, no ships in or out.
Without a single shot fired, the war has begun.