Honour's Knight (34 page)

I nodded and turned away, pressing my face into the cool glass of the little port window. Behind me, I heard Nic settle back into the pilot’s seat, but I didn’t care about him anymore. I didn’t even actually care about passing out, though that would probably have been the smart thing to do. My mind was simply too full.

Before I’d signed on with Caldswell, my life had followed a pattern: obey orders, climb the ladder, keep my eyes on the prize. It was a good gig, dangerous and exciting with glory as my reward. Most of all, though, it was simple. A path of my own choosing where I did what I loved, knew where I fit, and understood where I was going. Now, though, I felt like a dollhouse in a tornado. Over the past thirty hours, my entire life had been uprooted and turned on its head, my hopes and ambitions dashed then reshuffled then dashed again. But now that the storm had quieted, even for a moment, I was determined to pick up the pieces and get myself back on the right track. First, though, I had to figure out what track that was.

I looked down at my bare hands. Beneath the smears of my drying blood, my skin looked normal, but I knew better. The black stuff was still there. Carrying death in my hands was nothing new, but unlike my weapons, which I trusted with my life, I couldn’t control the virus at all, and I knew enough now to understand exactly how huge a disaster that could be.

I closed my fists tight. I’d sworn on my honor to Maat that I’d set her free, just as I’d sworn to myself that I’d end the awful system that had killed Ren and her father. I still intended to keep those oaths, but with the lelgis and the xith’cal involved now, this was all getting way too big for one merc to handle on her own.

Hard as it was for me to admit, I needed help—someone with the knowledge and resources to get this virus out without killing me or the rest of the universe. I’d thought I’d found that person in Brenton, but all he’d cared about in the end was killing Maat, and I just couldn’t do that. Anyway, Brenton was almost certainly dead now, and while I was relieved I wouldn’t have to fight him over going to the Dark Star, I still needed help, and unless I wanted to go find some more xith’cal, I had no one left to turn to except the Eyes.

Just the thought made me queasy. When I’d first decided to leave the army and look for a private mercenary contract, my grandmother had warned me not to sign with any of the bargain companies. You couldn’t trust people who treated life cheaply, she’d said, because they were the ones who’d sell you out for nothing. And while no one would ever call the Eyes a low-cost operation, Rupert and Caldswell had made it abundantly clear that everything was expendable when measured against the threat of the phantoms, and that didn’t sit right with me at all.

I’d never thought of myself as a particularly good person. That wasn’t the sort of claim you could make when you killed for money and generally had a fun time doing it. But even though I’d probably shot more people throughout my career than all the Eyes put together, my hands were cleaner. I killed, sure, but I killed pirates and xith’cal raiders, armed enemies who fought back. I didn’t shoot civilians, I didn’t kill children, and I didn’t torture animals. I’d known the Eyes did the first two from the very beginning, but after experiencing the phantom’s panic myself, I knew now they did the last as well. Worse, they felt it was justified, a sacrifice to keep the universe safe, and that was what bugged me most of all.

I was no stranger to sacrifice. “My life for the Sainted King” was the first oath Paradoxian children learned to say. To die for king and country was the greatest honor a Paradoxian could achieve, but we were soldiers. We chose to die as heroes, but the daughters’ choice was made for them. It wasn’t that I didn’t understand why the Eyes used them, I just didn’t agree that all of our survival should be bought with the life of someone who never even got a say. Brenton might have been crazy, but I agreed with him on one thing: what the Eyes did was wrong, and it had to stop.

By keeping the fight against the phantoms a secret, the Eyes made us all complicit in the cowardice that killed children so that everyone else wouldn’t have to be bothered. But life wasn’t a gift that was given to you. Survival was a prize we all fought for together, not a guarantee bought at the cost of an innocent life. Everyone knew that, which was why the Eyes kept the daughters hidden, because if word of what they were doing got out, it wouldn’t be panic over phantoms that tore the universe apart, it would be rage. Rage over what was being done to those poor girls, rage that they had made us murderers, too, without our knowledge. But I knew the truth now, and I refused to dishonor myself any longer.

I looked again at my clean hands, clenching my fingers tight. I hadn’t asked for this virus, but it was mine now, and I would be damned if I gave it to those child killers. I didn’t know why my king had seen fit to give this burden to me, but I would not let him down. I would use this plague as a weapon to make sure what happened to Ren and Rashid never happened again. I would stop the tragedies, and if I died in the process, at least I’d meet my end as a Paradoxian should, with my honor intact and my head held high. But so long as there was breath in my body, I would do whatever needed to be done to see this through, and I would never, ever go back to the Eyes.

But while all these noble promises made me feel a lot better, they actually made my immediate situation more dire, because now that seeking out the Eyes for help was synonymous with moral defeat, I had no idea where to go. Even if Brenton had miraculously survived the lelgis attack, I didn’t want to stay with a bunch of former Eyes who thought Maat’s death was the same thing as victory. If I left, though, I’d be on my own with no money, no ammo, and a busted leg. Forget the virus, I couldn’t even put my suit back on thanks to the bullet hole. Before I could even think about the long term, I needed a doctor, food, and a Paradoxian armorsmith, but where the hell was I going to find a—

And just like that, the solution came to me.

It was so obvious, I was embarrassed I hadn’t thought of it earlier. Clearly, being around Terrans for so long had made me soft in the head. I had it now, though—how to get help for my virus without going to the Eyes, how to avoid the lelgis, even how to get my armor fixed. It was perfect, natural,
beautiful
, and for the first time since I’d jumped off the cliff, I felt like I had my feet under me again.

I sat up at once, leaning over to grab one of the prefilled syringes out of the medkit on the table beside me. I broke the safety cap and palmed the needle, hiding it between the wall and my body. When I was set, I called over my shoulder: “Nic, could you come help me for a second?”

“Of course, Deviana,” Nic said, hopping out of his chair. “Are you in pain? We’ve only got ten minutes of jump left. When we come out, I’ll call down to our ground contact to have a medic ready when we land.”

He stopped in front of me, all anxious eagerness, but I just pointed at my injured leg. “I need you to take a look at my patch. I think something’s wrong.”

He looked at me funny for a moment, but I kept my mind perfectly blank. Nova had said Nic could tell when someone was lying, and I’d seen him do as much myself back on Falcon 34. I had no idea if keeping my head empty would actually work, but a few moments later, Nic kneeled to check my leg. The second his head was down, I stabbed the syringe into his neck.

Unlike me, Copernicus Starchild had no built-up resistance to sedatives. I’d barely pushed the plunger down before he was slumping onto the floor. Nova’s brother was almost as small as she was, and even on my busted leg, it was no problem to pick him up and hobble him across the ship to the other bench. I laid him out and checked to be sure his breathing was steady, but he seemed to be sleeping soundly. I checked one last time, just to be sure, then I limped back over to my bench and started putting my armor back on.

It took me a few minutes to get my ripped-up leg plate to snap back into place, but eventually everything clicked. Once I was locked in, I adjusted my motors to pick up the weight for my bum leg and walked to the cockpit with only a slight limp, plopping into the pilot’s seat just as we came out of hyperspace.

Despite my fears, we came out of the ungated jump only six hours behind where we should have been, dumping out in high orbit above the blinding white expanse of Montblanc’s arctic circle. After a long prayer of thanks to my king, I buckled in and grabbed the flight stick. I’m registered to operate most small spacecraft, but that was back in the army, and I was a little rusty. Consequently, I spent the next few minutes remembering how to fly. Fortunately, the basics of space navigation hadn’t changed too much in the last few years, and soon enough I was able to merge into the ring of ships orbiting Montblanc’s equator while they awaited permission to land.

When the colony tower called, I sent them the faked information Brenton had loaded into the ship and got immediate clearance. Brenton’s flight plan called for me to set down at a medium-sized city in Montblanc’s northern hemisphere, but I veered off course the moment I got my okay from traffic control, landing in the huge public starport at the colony capital. I locked the ship up tight so no one would rob Nic blind before he woke up, and then, with a bow and a formal thank-you for saving me that he’d never hear, I closed the door on Nic’s unconscious body and hopped down onto the tarmac, losing myself instantly in the busy starport.

I didn’t have any money, but it didn’t matter. Even if I’d had a year’s pay in hand, I couldn’t have gotten a taxi. Not when I was armed and in full Paradoxian armor without a permit on a major Terran colony. Fortunately, my suit computer had already tapped into the local maps provided by the tourist board, and my destination wasn’t far. Two minutes and a four-block jog later, I was standing in front of the heavy steel door of the Paradoxian embassy.

I hit the bell and stepped back, settling into parade rest in front of the camera. A few seconds later, a man with an even thicker accent than mine addressed me from the speaker bank above the door. “Welcome to the Paradoxian Emb—”

The voice cut off abruptly, and I heard the camera whir, focusing on my armor. When the man came back, he was speaking King’s Tongue. “My lady, how can we help you?”

I smiled. Verdemont armor came through again. This time, though, I wasn’t playing at being a noble lady to scare a mechanic into a timely repair. The other side of that door was the king’s land, which meant I was back under the king’s law.

“I’m not noble,” I said quickly. “My name is Deviana Morris, honorably discharged lieutenant in the Ambermarle First Armored Division. I have important information for the crown and I need to speak with the officer in charge.”

There was a long pause, and then the heavy door unlocked with a click. “Welcome, Lieutenant Morris,” the voice said. “Blessed be the Sainted King.”

“Ever may he reign,” I replied as I stepped inside, placing myself, my virus, and all my hopes into the hands of Sainted King Stephen, Holy Ruler of Paradox, and the only power in the universe I could still trust.

Stepping into the Montblanc Paradoxian embassy was like going home.

Unlike Terran buildings with their low ceilings and normal human scale, the embassy was built for armor. Everything was oversized and reinforced, from the marble floors to the steel guard station. It was a lovely, nostalgic sight after so long among Terrans, and I was still appreciating it when a solider in a red suit stepped up to block my way.

I had to tilt my head back to look him in the face. Red suits were for military use only. The infantry model was slightly larger than Cotter’s Count-class suit at eight feet tall and plated all to hell. I could empty Sasha’s entire clip into the guard’s chest and not even tickle him. Just seeing the big lug made me feel a thousand times better, even as he gave me the caustic once-over. “Identification?”

I had my ID up for his scanner before he could finish, and I thought I saw the guard smile behind his thick visor as his suit verified mine. “Glad to be back among civilized folk, Lieutenant?”

“You have no idea,” I said. “Who’s in charge here?”

“This outpost is run by the noble Baron Kells,” the guard replied solemnly. “You said you had important information for the crown?”

“Yes, but I need to tell it to the baron myself,” I explained. “Can I see him?”

The guard looked at me like I’d just asked the impossible, which, to be fair, I had. Now that I was back on the king’s land, I was a peasant again, and peasants did not demand to speak to barons. But I wasn’t about to start talking phantoms and plasmex plagues to a door guard.

“I just need five minutes of his time,” I pleaded. “If he doesn’t want to hear more after that, I’ll take the consequences.”

The punishment for wasting a noble’s time could be severe if you put them in a bad enough mood. Volunteering to take the heat straight off was a pretty good sign I wasn’t messing around. Good enough for the guard, apparently, because after a com conversation I couldn’t hear, the red suit turned around and started walking down the hall. I followed, falling into step behind him like I was back in the army.

After the grand marble entry hall, I expected the rest of the embassy to be equally impressive, but the hallway the red suit led me down would have been at home in any Paradoxian bunker. The floor was cement, the lighting was harsh, and my density monitor was going nuts from all the armor in the rooms around us. When we reached the end of the hall, the guard led me into a secure waiting room and told me to stay, locking the door behind me. I’d barely settled onto the reinforced bench when the door opened again, and a woman in Knight’s armor just like mine stuck her head through.

“Lieutenant Morris?”

I stood at attention, and she nodded. “The baron will see you.”

I was glad my visor hid my surprise as the woman led me back into the hall, or she would have caught me gaping like a fish. With very few exceptions, all high-ranking members of the Paradoxian military were nobly born. I’d served under a dozen barons during my four years in the army, but I’d only ever met two of them personally. Both times had been a giant to-do involving hours of waiting. When the red suit had shown me into the waiting room, I’d fully expected to sit there for the next five hours, not five minutes.