Endgame (3 page)

“Your reputation precedes you,” Leviter says.

I figure he’s giving me fair warning what to expect from him. “Only half of it’s true.”

Leviter flashes a sardonic smile. “That’s more than enough.”

“Is Loras here?” Tarn interjects. “I look forward to meeting him.”

“Yes, the others are in the ready room. This way.” I gesture for them to follow me.

Outside the city, the house is perfectly situated for skullduggery such as this, and it’s large enough to house everyone—Loras, Zeeka, Constance, Vel, and me—without any trouble. Since the property lacks a pool and formal garden, however, most nobles found it too provincial, and Vel got a good bargain; it had been on the market for a while.

“Any luck?” Though it’s not a specific question, I know what Tarn’s asking.

I shake my head. “I didn’t imagine it would be easy, but it’s worse than I expected.”

“Have you cited the legal precedents, as I suggested?” Tarn asks.

“For all the good it does. The Nicuan are entrenched.”

As we walk, Leviter says, “I trust Suni told you I have some ideas of how to start?”

“You’re committed to the cause then?”

Leviter smiles. “I specialize in this sort of thing.”

I decide not to ask; sometimes it’s better not to question your allies. The resistance is a grassroots movement with a few volunteers filling out forms and holding poorly attended rallies. At this point, the Imperials don’t even take us seriously enough to shut them down.

Tarn nods. “It’s true. If anyone can help you get the job done, Edun can.”

“Excellent news. We can use all hands.” This is true enough, as my own efforts have been spectacularly fruitless.

“Ultimately, you know that the civilized requests will go nowhere.” Leviter speaks the words with grave caution, as if he wonders whether I’m the sort of person who believes you can change the world through peaceable means.

I would like that to be true, but it’s not. That’s an idealist’s dream, and I’m too far past my starry-eyed youth to put my faith in fairy tales. Yet we must start somewhere, and I want it on record that we tried lawful measures before we escalated.

“I’d be surprised if anything came of them since the nobles run all the courts on Nicu Quintus.” That’s what the nobles call La’heng.

I step into the ready room, where Loras is waiting. At the moment, Vel’s at flight school, and Zeeka is tinkering upstairs with something that will explode if he’s not careful. It has been delightful exploring the galaxy with the grown-up version of Baby-Z. Before getting to know the Mareq, I never could’ve imagined such a bright and cheerful soul.

Loras stands and offers his hand to the two men. He’s average height, thin, with blond hair and azure eyes. When I first met Loras, he had an unearthly beauty, which made his face disturbing because it made me think he couldn’t care enough about events to be affected by them. In fact, that untouchable
aspect came as a result of the
shinai
-bond, which makes his people reliant on others for their protection. When you’re prevented from having experiences, you look young; it’s natural cause and effect. In the turns I’ve known him, he’s lost that deceptive innocence, and since he took Carvati’s Cure, Loras has changed. The
shinai
-bond kept his integral savagery at bay, but over the last turn, he’s become fierce and driven, hardening into the steel he’ll need to lead this rebellion.

I remember the promise I made to him, before the Morgut War. At the time, I was trying to apologize for leaving him to die and to explain how much I valued him as a person. In response, he asked the impossible of me: “The only way you can prove that is to set me free.” From there, it went to impossible research and a remedy for the damage done to his people. Though it took turns, we have that cure now. It’s not enough that Loras is a free man; his people deserve the same liberty. This injustice cannot stand.

Shaking off the reverie, I perform the introductions. Afterward, I take a seat; and the others follow suit. Leviter’s dark eyes hold a hardness except when they touch on Suni Tarn. If the man has an Achilles’ heel, it’s sitting beside him, hand on his knee.

After the courtesies, Loras asks skeptically, “Will Jax’s petitions do any good?”

Leviter addresses the question. “So long as you have realistic expectations, it will not prove a useless exercise.”

“Oh?” I arch a brow. This is why Tarn brought his partner in; he’s the idea man, while Tarn has always been the mouthpiece.

“I’ll keep tabs on the situation. See how various nobles react to the emancipation proposal and requests to open centers where the La’hengrin can openly receive the cure.”

Tarn nods. “Then we’ll know whom to approach. Whom to bribe later. There may well be sympathizers who think what’s happening is wrong. They just don’t dare act.”

“Maybe,” I say.

I fetch us all some
kaf
from the kitchen-mate. The tray comes with all the fixings, but Tarn drinks it straight. Playing hostess, I serve and observe while Loras asks a number of pointed questions regarding their interest and commitment.

After the brief interrogation, Leviter scrutinizes Loras. “You aren’t what I expected.”

To me, it’s clear what he means. Loras has a hard quality you don’t usually see in the sheltered La’heng, who are treated like children and not encouraged to think for themselves. Unlike children—due to the RC-17 disaster—they can’t rebel. Loras has been off world, traveled extensively, and under the care of his last master, he fended for himself quite a bit. His time with Hon left him angry and bitter, but it made him stronger, too, determined to do whatever it takes to free his people. I envy his passion because I’ve only ever felt that way about grimspace, and that seems less worthy.

Loras meets Leviter’s sharkish gaze squarely, then he shrugs. “Does it matter?”

“Not really. I came to La’heng for a new playground. This cause will suffice.”

“What do you mean, ‘playground’?” Loras demands.

Tarn says, “Did you hear about the sex scandal in the governor’s palace? It ended in two suicides and a change of fortune for the noble they appointed to the office.”

Loras nods. “Of course. It was all over the planetary bounce.”

“That was my work,” Leviter says softly, proudly.

Holy shit.

“And you did that for fun?” I ask, trying to understand.

“The old governor was a perverse pig of a man,” Tarn mutters.

I raise a brow. “Do I even want to know?”

Leviter eyes me with cold calm. “That depends. How do you feel about men who prey on girls less than twelve turns, who can’t defend themselves?”

“I hope he’s dead,” Loras snarls.

Tarn smiles. “He was the first suicide.”

Something in that look makes me wonder if Leviter had something to do with it, if it was a murder so convincing that the best Nicuan examiners missed the clues. The man’s flat smile gives nothing away, and I decide not to press. It only matters that the bastard’s dead.

“Who was the other?” Loras asks.

“His procurer.”

That’s an especially satisfying answer.

“Let me guess,” Loras mutters. “He bore the title of protector.”

Tarn rubs his fingers against his brow, as if the system pains him; Leviter sets a hand on Suni’s shoulder to comfort him. Then the former chancellor asks, “How did you know?”

“Because it’s disgusting. And too common.” Loras clenches his jaw, staring at the screen across the room, more for the distraction than from true interest.

The news is on, showing some dignitary proceeding in entourage fashion toward his next entertainment. A La’hengrin girl walks six paces behind the Nicuan noble. She can’t be more than eleven, and she’s loaded down with packages, treated like a beast of burden.

And that’s the least of what you see in the capital on a daily basis. The La’hengrin have no rights on a planet that belongs to them—that we stole from them. The “protection” of the
shinai
-bond masks so many offenses, so many abuses, that it took a forty-eight-page memorandum to document everything I’ve seen. Not that I expect the court to care.

“You sent in the citizenship appeal today?” Suni asks.

“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.

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.