Schism of Blood and Stone (The Starfield Theory Book 1) (47 page)

Anna

Magdeborg, Magdeborg Commonwealth

______________

Anna gently stroked Rebecca's hair as the car bounced along the dirt road. She'd fallen asleep a while ago and Anna couldn't blame her. A few hours ago, she'd been awakened early in the morning and tossed in a car without any forewarning. Anna found the swaying of the vehicle hypnagogic herself, but she was more interested in where LK was taking them than in finding elusive sleep. He refused to reveal the location in the bar, afraid that Salena might have agents watching them.

Quickly, the assembled Starfield Theorists had tossed Filipov in the back of a car, hooded and drugged. Anna, Rebecca, LK and another Theorist called only Siren took the other car. They split up, agreeing that they would attract less attention alone than as a convoy. Anna couldn't help but notice the trunks of each car were loaded with weapons and explosives. She wondered if they might be preparing for some sort of operation.

The city was still quiet at that hour. Though they passed several police vehicles, but they were left alone. LK was doing his best to avoid checkpoints without looking like he was avoiding checkpoints. Normally she might have been able to utilize her contacts and get through them without any trouble, but that was too dangerous now. Siren had several marked maps in her hands, quietly directing LK through the city. They went down more side streets than Anna even knew existed. Somehow, he managed to get out of the city without attracting attention.

Anna suddenly remembered driving this route when she took Damien to see Conrad. She'd been trying her best to not think of him these few weeks. She heard his speech at the funeral then watched Sten House Guardsmen attack the Teton-Sten warriors. Several people had been killed in the fire fight, both soldiers and civilians. Damien's declaration of a legitimate heir to the throne had sent shock waves across the entire Commonwealth, even more so than his violent escape. Salena and her thugs had done their best to prevent the spread of subversive information, but the Starfield Theorists had contacts. They could not suppress the video of protests across the Commonwealth worlds, even the ones still loyal to the Tetons.

Even though the planet was beginning to question Salena's legitimacy, she was not done with her machinations. Swiftly, she declared the marriage of Magnus to the heir of House Mason. The wedding would be next month. The announcement calmed the public and ended the loudest protests as they trumped out Kendra Mason. She was beautiful, intelligent and charismatic, an instant favorite. She had been wise not to use military force against the angry populace and adopt a strategy that Damien might have even considered. Perhaps she'd finally taken a page out of his handbook.

Yet, the weeks had not gone bloodless.
So far, the resistance had limited their attacks against House Teton-Sten directly, bombing military convoys and assassinating minor plenipotentiaries. They'd left local police and even the Teton-Sten allies alone, hoping to isolate the ruling family. They were hoping to provoke a violent response, but so far Salena had been unwilling to play that game. Her limited strikes were always conducted by Magnus against confirmed resistance targets. Civilian casualties had been virtually nonexistent on either side. Magnus was even taking on a more active role in governance as be became more comfortable with his station and duties. In a few neighborhoods, the people actually cheered his troops as they marched off to attack a target. Anna turned away from those displays of affection, real or fake as they may have been.

When LK finally turned off an exit to enter the suburbs, he broke the reticent atmosphere of the vehicle. “We seem to be in the clear. It won't be too much further now.”

“Where are we going?”

LK was silent for another minute. “Out to a resistance outpost.”

“Are you crazy? You can't take us there,” Anna hissed. “Salena is actively hunting and hitting resistance targets. And she's looking for us, remember?”

“You'll be safe there for now. They will have contacts that might be able to get you and the girl off the planet,” LK said. “Besides, a military camp is going to be safer for you than a bar that's for sure.”

LK checked his surroundings at every turn, looking for anyone who might try to stop him. The sun was just coming up and people would be on their way to work shortly. He was probably trying to blend in with the local traffic.

“And we need a place to keep Filipov. I'll need the proper equipment to extract something from him,” he added.

“I don't exactly approve of torture, LK. Indexing is illegal for a reason.”

“I don't exactly need your permission,” he snapped back. “We are far too exposed in the city and we need some help. Filipov has a wealth of information on Salena's command and control functions as well as the run down on Magnus' troops. We need him to talk. He doesn't feel pain, remember? So we need more effective means of interrogation.”

Anna glared at LK, angry at his attitude. He may have been out of the intelligence field for the last few years, but his mind was still conditioned to think in such terms. She decided not to pursue the matter. He was likely tired, but Anna also suspected she detected something she hadn't seen in LK before. Something was different. Usually he was so stoic and cautious, but his hurried attitude and agitation betrayed his latent fear, but she shouldn't be surprised. Long before LK ended up playing poker in a bar he was one of House Mason's feared intelligence operatives. His training and conditioning were as good if not better than Filipov's, but psychological torture could only be so effective. Filipov likely figured out by now that LK was dangerous and had probably been thinking how to block his attempts to break him. Fortunately, he was drugged which gave him less time to think and kept him quiet.

LK turned onto a few different back roads, winding his way through the hills and into the countryside. Anna had rarely been out here before. When she was just a child, her parents occasionally took her out for a day of relaxation in the sun. Sometimes a few of her cousins and friends would join her. She had so little time these days for that kind of leisure. She'd wanted to take Rebecca out here so many times before to share with her, but the pressing matters of the Conclave had always trumped her desires.

Sometimes she'd imagine what it would have been like to have a real family like she had when growing up. She would imagine she and the father figure sitting on the hill watching Rebecca run around below, chasing butterflies or engaging in some make believe adventure. Sometimes the father figure was Damien sometimes it was someone else, sometimes someone just as made up as the invisible guests at Rebecca's tea parties. In the end, she always preferred the visions with Damien as far fetched as they were.

She went back to stroking Rebecca's hair. It was Sten hair, red-blond and silky. She stirred slightly. Anna hushed her.

She wasn't sure how Rebecca would handle being in a military camp. She doubted that the soldiers there would appreciate having a ten-year-old on base and wondered if the guns would disturb her. More importantly, what would happen if Magnus and his goons came calling? Would they kill the women, too? What if they became Salena's prisoners? Would they be accorded ransom or be held hostage? Would she actually use them to lure Damien back to Magdeborg and finish him off?

She swallowed back tears and the fear that was rising in her gut. LK would protect them, she knew that much. The resistance movement was mostly comprised of House Sørensen and a few of the militia units that defected. They might be wary of a group of Starfield Theorists seeking refuge with them.

The enemy of my enemy is my friend
, Anna thought.
They will welcome us, especially if we're bringing weapons and our own personal hatred for Salena. Bringing Filipov to them will be a nice incentive to treat us nicely. The information he has will help them more than it'll help us.

Anna leaned up from her seat when LK applied the breaks and brought the car to a halt. Just ahead, several military vehicles were blocking the road. Two of them were armored jeeps with heavy machine guns in a roof turret manned by very large troopers. The center vehicle was a light tank with its main gun pointed directly at the car. Other soldiers pointing weapons in their direction stood behind the tank using its chassis to shield themselves.

“Who are they?” Anna asked.

“Get your hands up and get out of the car,” LK muttered.

“Who are they?” She repeated.

More loudly he said: “Get out. Make the girl get out, too.”

LK and Siren stepped out of the car quickly in a manner that seemed to be trained into them.

“What's going on?” Rebecca said quietly peering from behind the seat in front of her.

“Come on, sweetie, we have to get out for a minute. Don't be scared.”

Anna took her hand and opened the door. She carefully stepped out and away from the car. LK had already done the same. The weapons remained trained on them.

Rebecca gasped when she saw the vehicles and armed soldiers. Someone shouted an order and several of the troopers moved forward, keeping weapons leveled. They searched LK and Anna somewhat roughly, but a female soldier gently patted down Rebecca. She was starting to cry, but she obeyed the orders of the soldiers. Anna could see the insignia on the troopers' uniforms. The Sørensen emblem was unmistakable, and the fact that they were still wearing uniforms indicated they hadn't suffered a complete breakdown of command.

“What in Ithix is this?” One of the soldiers demanded upon checking the trunk. He and another began to pull out the weaponry.

“A gift,” LK said.

“And who in Ithix are you?”

“My name is Sampson. I'm a bar owner in town.”

“ID, now,” the guard captain demanded.

LK shrugged then handed over a fake. The captain scrutinized it carefully and handed it back. “What about your friends?”

“Just friends of mine. We're trying to get out of the city.”

The captain ignored them then pulled Anna by the arm out of earshot of the others. Rebecca sobbed and Siren put a hand on her shoulder.

“What's his real name?” The captain demanded. “Do you take me for an idiot? I can spot an Amrah damned fake when I see one.”

She glanced back at LK.

“Don't look at him, look at me!”

“I – I just want to get my daughter out of the city and away from the Teton-Stens. I'm no one important.”

“I don't believe a damn word of it,” the captain snarled. “Bring me the girl.”

Two other troopers shoved Siren and grabbed Rebecca and dragged her to the captain.

“For Amrah's sake she's ten!” Anna snapped at him.

“Shut up.”

The captain pulled his side arm and pressed the barrel against Rebecca's head. She sobbed, grabbing at the ends of her shirt.

“What are you doing?!” Anna screamed at him. She reached for the gun, but one of the soldiers grabbed her. “You don't know who she is!”

“Captain,” LK called. “I have some more friends coming shortly. They have something with them that might be able to convince you.”

Anna watched LK's mind whirl and she knew he was playing a mental poker game in his head. Was it valuable to reveal his hand now or trap him like he trapped Bob in the bar?

“More of this fake ID nonsense? You're coming through my line with nothing but garbage. I can shoot all of you now.”

“Be calm, Captain, please,” LK said, holding his hands up. “We just want to get the girl to safety. My friends have Dmitri Filipov. We kidnapped him and have been holding him in the city until the uproar from the funeral died down.”

The officer narrowed his brow and was silent for a few long moments. “You'd better not be screwing with me.”

LK shook his head. “He's spent the last few weeks in my bar. He's a lousy patron.”

The soldiers pulled the car into the woods and kept the refugees under guard. Rebecca managed to fall into a fitful sleep again in Anna's arms. They only waited half an hour for the second car to show up. Again the Theorists exited the vehicle while the soldiers searched it. When they pulled out a drugged and bloodied Filipov, the officer smiled and clapped LK on the back.

“In Amrah's name, you weren't kidding. You just earned yourselves a free ride back to the camp and our hospitality and protection.”

LK offered a halfhearted smile and waited for the officer to move away. He glanced at Anna. “I never liked Sørensens. Prickly types they are.”

Kristoffer

Captain of the MacCleod

Verland, Goteborg, Magdeborg Commonwealth

______________

The temporary landing fields were crowded and stank, Chris determined. He and Claire had been moved here when word of Damien's arrival finally reached them. The fields were meant to help facilitate the evacuation. Originally, the tent city was intended for displaced civilians, but it quickly filled beyond capacity and began to include military personnel. They shared a small tent, as did the rest of those assembled here, near the back of the tent city.

He'd been trying to sleep, but it didn't come to him. His lungs still hurt and his muscles ached. Most of the soldiers exposed to a similar dosage of Vertoxx were still bedridden and on ventilators. Chris was already walking around and exercising which caused at least one doctor to renounce medicine and proclaim a miracle. Chris figured his exposure was much lower than believed. He was lucky, but hardly divinely touched.

Claire had been unresponsive for much of the last week after they'd been reunited. In a matter of days she'd seen her noble college boyfriend die on her operating table then her brother clinging to life as a lethal gas wrecked its horror on his innards. She did what eve the best soldiers did when faced with extreme trauma. She shut down.

Finally, he sat up on the cot and threw off his blanket. He rubbed his face. “I'm sorry about Ian,” he said.

Claire lay curled on her cot, not looking at him. She was silent for a long time. “Why?” she asked.

Chris shrugged and opened and closed his mouth. “He was our friend. He took good care of us and gave me the
Cleod.
Now he's gone.”

“I hate him.”

“What?” He jerked his head up.

She sat up, her face red with fury. “I said I hate him.”

“What are you talking about, Claire?”

“Because he's dead! He got obsessed with power and glory and his ridiculous war and it got him killed. I told him not to do it, not to fight.”

“But he's a nobleman, he's expected-”

“I know he has his responsibilities, but he thought he was immortal. He believed any problem could be solved with guns or money and look what happened!” She yelled waving her arms to encompass the camp.

“It's not his fault-”

“Of course it's his fault. This is what happens when you go off to play soldier. People die! I don't want to talk about Ian again. Ever.”

Chris took a breath, trying to control his spinning head. The yelling was making him sick. He'd never seen her like this. She'd been mad before, but never shown this sort of fury, not directed at himself or Ian.

He put his hands up and lay back down on the cot.
Give her time
, he thought.
She just spent the last few weeks watching people die by the hundreds when she couldn't save them all.

But why did it upset her so much? Chris had spent some time thinking on what Sir Aaron said. He was right, he determined. He hadn't thought twice about sending people into harm's way. It had to be done. Even when he was leading them, he thought little of his own preservation. Had Ian been the same way? He wanted nothing more than to ask him. Was there value in life? Or was it so valuable it needed to be sacrificed in the defense of something good?

The tent flap rustled then zipped open. Claire flopped back on the cot and refused to look.

“Nick!” Chris yelled then jumped up and stumbled over to him. Nick caught him in his arms and held him up as he was nearly overcome by a fury of coughing.

“For Amrah's sake, Chris. I heard what happened. Are you entirely insane?”

He coughed a few more times and Claire pulled him down on her cot. She stood to embrace Nick and answered. “It's more stupidity than insanity. He knew the risks.”

“Sir Aaron nearly got you killed.”

“I nearly got myself killed,” Chris gasped between hacks.

“Take it easy,” Nick instructed.

Chris nodded as he recovered.

“You, on the other hand, performed admirably,” Nick said, turning to Claire. “Or so I've heard.”

“From whom?” Claire asked.

“Here and there. You saved a lot of lives.”

“I'm not a professional,” she said looking at the ground. “None of us were really.”

“Ian's dead,” Chris said suddenly.

Nick nodded slowly. “I know. I heard. I was afraid you might be with him. I'm sorry. I know you two were close.”

Claire looked away, willing to meet his eyes.

They were silent for a moment. “Come with me,” Nick said waving them outside the tent. They followed as Chris elicited a cough every few steps. He tried to stifle them as best he could. The few soldiers they passed smiled and gave him a hardy pat on the back. News of his endeavor had spread quickly and news of his recovery more quickly still. He did not want to appear weak during his new fame. Claire, he noticed, chose to ignore the interactions. The doctors did not get the same sort of treatment as war heroes, he realized, even if they performed the heavier task of saving the dying.

“Where are you taking us?” Claire asked.

Nick ignored her and kept a steady pace. Chris started to struggle to keep up and coughed loudly to get Nick's attention. He paused for a moment, offered a smile and waited patiently.

They walked for a good ten minutes more when Nick stopped them outside a large tent. At its peak, House Sten banners flapped lazily in the chilling air. Outside, two heavily armed guards gave them a once over, but did not intervene.

“Look,” Nick said. “I just want to say I'm sorry about all of this. We all have our roles to play.”

“What do you mean?” Claire asked.

Nick held open a flap and waved them inside.

The tent was kept warm by a fire burning in the corner. It cast delicate shadows over the tense tent surface and its stolid occupants.

Seated on camp chairs to his left were Sir Aaron Mercer-Sten and the red-haired woman called Reyna. They sat a noticeable distance apart. On the right was the odd pairing of the mountainous Slader Sten and next to him a diminutive man who took Chris several moments to recognize as Lord Dietrich Sørensen. Offset from the others was a large man Chris easily identified as Lord Conrad Sten. At the center was Lord Damien Sten himself, the Gray Knight and the Defender of the Border.

“My Lord,” Chris said, too shocked to say anything else. He coughed as he fell to a knee. Claire was several seconds slower and did not drop nearly as far as her brother. Nick stood a respectful distance away.

Damien waved for the twins to stand.

“It is an honor to meet you, my lord,” Chris said suppressing a cough. “I fought at Verland for the honor of your house and-”

Damien waved his hand again, demanding silence. “You were a damn fool is what you were. If you had died before I got here...” he paused, thinking before shooting Sir Aaron a look of disappointment. “I can't even imagine.”

Chris stood, his jaw clenched. He resisted the urge to massage his palms.

Damien sighed. “All of that aside, I am glad to see you in better health. You certainly shouldn't be alive; nearly everyone else in your ad-hoc attack was killed by the gas. You are fortunate to be standing here now so let's make the most of it.”

Lord Dietrich interrupted. “Surely you are aware of the events on Magdeborg.”

Chris nodded hesitantly. “Lady Salena declared the Sørensens usurpers and took the throne for her house. She says Archduke Peter left no heirs.”

“She certainly said that,” Dietrich said behind a smile.

The other nobles grunted and snorted.

“Please, have a seat,” Dietrich said offering two spare camp chair. Once they were settled he continued. “She is lying. When we met at Remmington, I told her I had selected an heir and it most certainly wasn't her,” Dietrich explained.

“You didn't announce you were taking the throne for yourself?” Claire asked.

Dietrich chuckled. “For Ithix's sake, no. If I had machinations on the throne I sure wouldn't have called Damien and Salena together and told them about it. I am old, but I am not stupid,” he said rubbing the top of his cane. “Before she died, Duchess Ciara gave birth to two more heirs who Archduke Peter wisely kept out of the public eye. He wanted to protect them from the same fate that befell Arthur Sten. They spent their lives growing up in secret on Goteborg, protected by my family at all times

“You two are those heirs.”

Silence washed over the tent like a wave all except for the snapping and crackling of Damien's fire.

“That can't be true,” Claire said finding the words before her brother. “We have parents who died in a misjump accident. We've never seen any bodyguards or anything.”

Dietrich nodded slowly then raised his hand and indicated Nick.

Both twins turned their heads. Nick smiled. “It's true.”

“Who are you?” Chris asked.

“Nickalaus Sørensen. Lord Dietrich is my grandfather.”

“You've been a Sørensen this whole time? They made you come here and protect us?”

“Like I said, I'm sorry I had to deceive you. Everything depended on you believing I was a nobody. And I've always been a Sørensen, but you're the one that picked me. As you got older and more independent, we needed a way to protect you that didn't involve your surrogate parents over involvement. Several candidates were introduced to you, but both of you befriended me and so I became your bodyguard for the last twelve years.”

“What about our parents?”

“They did not die in a misjump,” Dietrich said. “They were sent back to Magdeborg to live out their years in comfort far away from any civilization. We have not have contact with them since the coup, but perhaps that is for the best.”

“What about my parents, grandfather?” Nick asked suddenly. He cleared his throat, realizing his selfishness and bowed his head in penance.

Dietrich paused for a moment then said, “Odin and Astrid Sørensen are alive, last I heard, and leading the resistance. With any luck we will reunite with them soon.”

“What happens to us now?” Claire asked.

“Well you are both Archduke Peter's children which means you are his rightful heirs. Though by the laws of primogeniture Kristoffer is the heir-designate and the rightful Archduke. It is our responsibility to see that you come into your throne. If you want it of course.”

“But Lady Salena-” Chris started.

“Is merely keeping it warm for you,” Damien interjected. “You have a duty to your father, my brother, to succeed him and throw that wench off the throne.”

“Damien,” Lord Dietrich admonished again taking on the role as disciplinarian.

For a moment, Chris thought the Gray Knight might actually claim “she started it,” but he held his tongue.

“Do not make this decision lightly, my son,” Dietrich said. “If you say yes, it will plunge the Commonwealth into civil war, though Damien has certainly gotten the ball rolling in that direction already. If you say yes, thousands, if not millions will die in the coming conflict that we may very well not win anyway.”

“Then why fight?”

“Because it is our duty,” Damien said. “It may not mean much to you, but Duty is one of the tenets of Commonwealth knighthood, along with Honor and Courage.”

“And Humanity,” Dietrich reminded him.

Lord Damien ignored the interruption. “Your father entrusted you with this duty. I understand it has been thrust upon you unwillingly, but all of us carry that burden. We are here as a result of the randomness of our birth, but we have accepted our responsibilities and carry them out regardless. You have a blood responsibility to your family and your nation. Many have died already to get us this far.”

“You're saying it's my choice. If I say yes then we go to war. If I say no then, what, we all just go home?”

There was a new silence even deeper and more disconcerting than the last. Obviously none of them had thought he'd refuse.

“Salena will hunt for you. You are a danger to her and she will not stop until she's killed both of you,” Damien said flatly.

“If you say no, Damien is correct. We would take you to Anarrk, where you would live in safety for the remainder of your lives,” Dietrich said more softly.

“In exile,” Damien added. “Never to leave Anarrk.”

“You can't do this, Chris,” Claire said. “I don't want any of this.”

Chris glanced at Nick who shrugged. “I was prepared. I'm sworn to protect you for life whatever you choose.”

“You can't let him do this, Nick.”

“I don't get a say-”

“You've been our best friend for a decade! Of course you get a say!” Claire shouted at him.

“It doesn't work that way, Claire,” Nick said apologetically.

“Don't I get a say?” She asked the assembled nobles.

Damien shook his head. “No. We need both of you. If something were to happen and Salena captured one of you, she could use that one against us as a hostage. It must be both of you.”

Lord Dietrich nodded his head in agreement.

“And I don't get a say in it?” She asked again.