Angolin, p.25
Angolin, page 25
He wanted to go on, but he couldn’t. Tears blurred his vision and poured down his cheeks. He buried his face in his hands, cried so hard that he felt mucous run through his fingers and join the watery torrent in an emotional outpouring stronger than the roaring falls beneath Greathall. The gush stole his words. He could do nothing but expel and let every bit of despair drain from him completely after having held it all in for so long.
“We have a life ahead of us,” he finally sputtered between sobs. “Damn the Carmogen and damn Dawn Fire. I need you with me safe and sound!”
He stopped, looked at his hands and down his front. He moved a step toward the room’s lavatory, wanting to clean up. But he leaned in close to his fiancé’s still face first. “Promise me you’ll think twice before risking yourself like this again,” he said softly, “because I don’t know what I’ll do without you.” He left Dharmen’s side, went into the small chamber, and shut the door.
Dharmen was alone now in the room that had for days read his neural activity, took medi-synth directives, and adjusted everything in measure: temperature, humidity, light, sound filtration, and all else accordingly to aid his healing and comfort. Amid the pulses and sensations coursing through his body, his good eye twitched, opened slowly. A tear ran down his face and stained the regeneration wrap covering the gash to his cheek from his own sword.
“I promise, love,” he mouthed lightly to empty air. “I promise.”
Flanked by two bodyguards, Lord Balaneth stood silently just outside the doorway to Gallin’s emptied sleep-in. He watched as the man was obviously preparing a hasty departure, and completely unaware of the other Lenans present. He sighed disappointment, but Gallin was too frenzied to hear and still hadn’t turned around.
“Norgods! How much longer?” Gallin grated as he rummaged through a packed bag overflowing with disheveled papers and old Angolinian datapads. A robodrive sat connected to one of the pads protruding from a side pocket, and in no apparent hurry to complete its download. “I need an independently mobile, untraceable backup. Now move!” he muttered at it.
“Are we off to somewhere?”
Gallin wheeled, knife in hand. His face changed as he tried to hide his shock. “Maybe I am.”
Balaneth entered the room with his bodyguards following. “And taking all evidence of your disgracefully clandestine affairs with you to wherever you’re moving your double life.”
His men moved in.
“Keep your places,” he commanded with a leisurely raise of one hand. “My former aide and I are about to have a discussion.”
“Only if you make it a fast one,” Gallin said and resheathed his weapon.
“My apologies, Gallin. You’re in a hurry.” Balaneth fingered his snow-white goatee. “From this interesting living space, unknown to our diplomatic corps. And in the South Centrum of all places, though it’s a bit dark and drab for such a tony neighborhood.”
“It’s a space worthy of a man and better than the cubbyhole I had under you.”
“Why, Gallin? Why this betrayal? What would make you turn on your own people and the trust of Angolin, for that matter, to work for our enemies? They’ll enslave this entire planet, including you. Can you not see this?”
“Betrayal? Who’s here to betray? What’s here to betray?”
“You can’t be serious. Angolin has been as fine a home to you as Lena.”
“I require something finer. We all do. I need more than spending the rest of my life serving an old man like you or in a dying nation’s brigades. Even if you did sponsor my admission into the officer corps.”
“You aren’t thinking clearly,” said Balaneth. “Lena may not be as big as Carmogen or as fierce as Kay Allendë once was, but we’ve grown great in our own right through honor, not conquest. Every loyal Lenan should be proud of that.”
“I’m not highborn. My place in the dominion doesn’t allow me such vain notions. I need more from life than other people’s Northern pride.”
“But you were a submajor and a very young one at that, and then an ambassadorial attaché. You chose an honorable path. Had that continued, you would’ve enjoyed an exceptional life.”
“Exceptional for me, you mean.”
“Don’t be so quick to assume you’ll do better in the East. You’ve not invented restlessness. Many before you have taken the same easy way, and every one of them found a Carmogen slave market soon enough.”
Gallin gave that a few choice Lenan curses. He walked across the room and looked out to the rain-washed way below.
“And you’ve done none of this alone. Who, might I ask, are you working with?”
“No longer for you, which means you have no right to question me.”
“Humor an old Lenan then.”
Gallin turned on him. “You already know who. With fortune only the Norgods could’ve given, I found Armetrian. He’s the only person I’ve met in this hidden cesspool of a society who sees his destiny as clearly as I do. He’s the only Angoliner with true vision!”
“I’ve heard of him before.”
“You heard of him after Tate was recovered and the questionings begun. That’s what brought his and my name into this, and that’s what brought you here.”
“You see much as always, Gallin. You excelled in my service because of it. Pity it’s been so squandered of late.”
“That’s the first time you’ve ever given me such credit. It must be painful.”
“Credit? Oh, I’ve given you far more than that. Your OC sponsorship aside, I offered you a top position in my service when every one of my peers told me—implored me—not to. But I chose you over hundreds of candidates from high families. What a mistake it was to elevate a commoner and assume he’d prove a loyal dominion subject and not some ungrateful, change-mongering traitor, not to mention my beloved’s kidnapper!”
“One of your beloveds, and it wasn’t intended,” said Gallin. “And don’t think the highborn are free from change-mongering. Highborn money has financed me from the start.”
“And continues to, with my pay in your pocket now! But no matter. The Angolin Guard is aware of you. They’ll weed out all of you to the last and least, and so will Lena.”
Light, dim but noticeable, swept across the floor, shaped by the sleep-in’s windows. It intensified, then faded to nothing.
“The suns are coming out. The rain has stopped at least,” Balaneth digressed.
“You know full well that wasn’t sunlight. These people are doomed, and fancy cloaking technology won’t save them. The East will overrun Angolin, and once they—once we do—we’ll settle up with Lena. Try to find a new mindset when the change you’re so afraid of makes its way north!”
The robodrive beeped and detached itself from the datapad in Gallin’s travel bag. It floated upward and stopped beside him, download complete. He reached down and busily shifted things around in the worn sack.
“So instead of lecturing me about honor,” Gallin continued, “I suggest you, your high-mountain bitch that your other wives will never accept, and her man-loving cousin and his interfering mate prepare for the New Order. Carmogen’s armies are massive. Now they have advanced arms too, and neither Angolin nor Lena is ready to take them on.” He smiled. “It’s unstoppable. Live in your fantasy world if you want, but don’t pretend not to know that—”
A low rumble shook the building. The floorboards beneath their feet jolted. Balaneth steadied himself as his bodyguards flitted confused eyes around the room.
“So I was correct,” Balaneth said. “This is a mobile house.”
“What would you know about that?”
“I’ve been ambassador to Angolin for two years now. I’ve learned a few things, even about these pod houses.” Another rumble rattled the sleep-in’s walls. “That’s the ground-level propulsors firing. You don’t intend to run. You’re having the house take you to wherever it is you’re going. So why bother to strip the place? Some bizarre housekeeping ritual you learned from your Eastern friends?”
“You did nearly deem me intelligent just now.”
“They can track something this big and slow easily. You’ll be tractored and trapped like a hunted borbol when they do.”
“You underestimate me still, my Lord.”
“Ahhh, I see! You’re only taking it a short distance. You’ll set down somewhere else and then make your real escape.”
“That’s right. Now you really have got it correct.”
“Even moving the house to the next way would throw them off your trail. The Guard would arrive here to find nothing, and arrive there to find nothing, wasting all that time while you escape. Such a surreptitious move, it’s worthy of a—”
“Of a mercenary?” Gallin eyed the burly men just behind Balaneth. “Yes. I know!”
Balaneth swung around to the man on his left. “Get downstairs and see if you can shut down—” Metal sliced into the man’s neck, spraying blood. He fell with the thrown knife still in him.
The other guard lunged for Gallin, but not fast enough. Gallin had already yanked out a gun from his open bag and fired. He fell dead beside his counterpart, the gaping hole from the beam pouring his innards across the sleep-in floor. Balaneth could do nothing but stare down the barrel of Gallin’s pilfered Angolinian sidearm.
“They make efficient hand weapons here. I’ll give them that,” Gallin said. “Let’s see how well they fight their own creations when the time comes.” He reached down, fastened his bag, and pulled the strap over his shoulder with his free hand. “Now if you’ll excuse—”
Balaneth moved to block the doorway. The hard face he put on trembled with the rest of him.
“Trying your hand at honor, are you?” Gallin said. “And it couldn’t be more absent.”
“You may have successfully betrayed the West, and you may have fooled me for a time, but you won’t get out of this house if I have anything to do with it!” Balaneth charged, made a foreshortened move to grab Gallin’s gun. He tried to recover the botched lunge even as he quivered with fright.
Gallin dodged it and clubbed him on the back of the neck. Balaneth stumbled. Gallin landed a sharp kick to his head, sending him to the floor in a sprawl. Balaneth shut his eyes; the pain was excruciating. He felt himself being pistol-whipped as he lay prone. Afraid but daring to open an eye, his blurred vision made out Gallin backing away and heaving heavy breaths.
The house shuddered again, harder this time. Then came the whir of fully charged propulsors. Through his pain, Balaneth felt the floor press beneath him under the pressure of lift-off.
“You have the rendezvous coordinates,” he heard Gallin say to the hovering robodrive. “Go!”
The small machine swiveled and floated out the window. A beam shot upward at it, Balaneth saw that much. It was thin, probably from a stun weapon. The robodrive swerved but was hit by a second shot. He felt another shudder of a different kind. Propulsor antigrav was cycling down, the house was descending. With a great thud, it resettled into its base.
Balaneth was fading, but he was aware enough to hear the front door burst open downstairs. He watched Gallin hastily activate something on his belt, something Angolinian in appearance.
“Guard sensors better have as much difficulty detecting this frequency as you promised, Vara,” he heard Gallin mutter.
And then saw the man’s entire bag-and-body turn toward a dark corner and disappear with one temporally adjusted step. Uniforms stormed into the room at nearly the same instant. He saw Gallin reappear briefly as he quietly darted through the doorway behind them and down the stairs.
Balaneth lay limp in the Guardsmen’s path, drifting in and out of consciousness and wishing he could alert them. Hazy vision caught heavy boots attached to black-and-gray-clad bodies, and pulse rifles methodically aiming around the room.
“Sir, in here! We’ve got three, all down!”
More boots approached. Uprights materialized above Balaneth and his felled bodyguards. “These two are dead,” said a rather familiar voice. “And uplords, look at all the blood.”
“Lieutenant?” Balaneth managed, trying to open his eyes further. “You must . . . stop—”
“Remain still, Ambassador, and try not to talk.” Theus knelt, examined Balaneth’s bleeding head. “Get a medi-synth in here, immediately!” he ordered the rest of his detail. “And get reinforcements to this area. Two platoons. We’ll need a ten-klick-square cordon, full TS scan. His wounds are fresh. Whoever did this can’t have gotten far.”
“You have tea, Lieutenant Commander. Drink it,” Gennet ordered, more paternally than militarily. “You’ve progressed tremendously with infirmary AI help, but this will speed your recovery naturally.”
Dharmen took the steaming cup from the general’s desk as though it might bite him. His father swore by saaryl pine tea for its supposed healing properties and made him drink it whenever he fell ill as a child. He winced at the green-black swill and took a sip . . . The tea was as horrible as always. Three weeks of invasive machines and wraps hadn’t been so vile! He returned it to the desk. It was thankfully too hot to gulp.
“If it isn’t boiled to the extreme to rid the roots of their acids, it’ll burn your stomach lining.”
“I know, sir, I’ve had it”—Dharmen reached for the cup and forced another sip, gasped in disgust—“many times before!” He put it down. Two tries were enough for now. “Sir, you were telling me about Armetrian.”
“Ah yes, Dawn Fire’s coleader. He’s finally revealing his involvement, albeit slowly. And what a history!” Gennet tapped his desktop, pulled up interrogation files. “Established a relationship with the Carmogen long before Negara, funneled weapons to them in light quantities before increasing the supply, helped run the Niro Way safe house, recruited several new members in and out of the Guard to gain information, and—”
“And to get rid of me.” Dharmen grunted. His broken ribs were mended but not fully healed. “Pardon my interruption, sir.”
“He would have succeeded at that, had he done the job himself. I’m surprised he didn’t, considering your fondness for each other,” Gennet said. “His converts’ ineptitude kept you alive. Mr. Vinc aside, young Master Duraan’s inattention to detail and inability to fully manage a task didn’t match his technical knowledge. The lieutenant commander trusted him with work he deemed too marginal to handle directly, but it was still too much for the kid.”
“Really? Killing me himself wasn’t high on Armetrian’s list?”
“It was, but weapons smuggling was higher. Armetrian masterminded the last Bemini theft, and”—Gennet paused, gave a more pointed look—“he delivered the shipment to the enemy personally.”
Dharmen choked. Hot tea burned his fingers; he wished he hadn’t chosen this moment for another nauseating sip. “He went to Carmogen? That’s the trip he mentioned under the mountain?”
“And met with the very same Lescain you found him and Vara meeting with on Negara, yes.”
Dharmen took that wide-eyed. “All this would be enough to have Armetrian’s head this minute if we had a death penalty like the Lenans do.”
“If we were so inclined, lots of heads would roll in coming days.”
“Sir, you said Armetrian was coleader. Was Vara or Gallin the other half of that?”
“No, they were his lieutenants more than anything. Someone else brought him on to help funnel weapons initially.” Gennet sighed gravel. “An old friend of mine, I hate to say.”
“Who, sir?”
“My Fifth Order counterpart.”
“General Estes! So Kerbentha wasn’t lying after all?”
“Not fully. Kerbentha worked for Armetrian; he’d heard about the general and saw him a few times remotely, but that was the extent of it.”
“General Estes is married to one of the president’s nieces,” Dharmen said. “If high government leaders are involved in this, possibly even the president himself—”
“Don’t assume that yet. I don’t doubt we’ll uncover government involvement, but my gut tells me President Prinsen’s not of that ilk. His niece Coraia is another matter though. I wouldn’t count her ambitions out of this for a second.” Gennet’s eyes ghosted over. “No. Eldric and Armetrian are our chiefs, with Gallin the second now that Vara’s out. Shame, really. I commend Commander Secár on her quick action, but we could’ve extracted much information from the late lieutenant.”
“I can’t imagine Miss I’m-smelling-something-bad-and-it’s-my-own would’ve volunteered much, though she must’ve had plenty,” Dharmen grumbled. “Probably as much as Armetrian.”
“Well, of everyone’s involvement, hers went largely unnoticed. From what I’ve put together, Vara was groomed for this by General Estes, likely before Armetrian came on board. But actual traces of her work didn’t manifest until Bemin, when she and Armetrian disappeared. General Estes tried to hide that from me, but as I said, I’ve been watching. And I’ve managed even after the Condorcet sweep to keep her death a secret for the time being.”
“Sir, I don’t understand at all. Why would you—?”
“She’s a vital piece to this puzzle, with connections reaching well beyond the Guard and at Port,” Gennet answered. “Her dealings may have undermined our security in far worse ways than any stolen weapons, and I know those dealings included the general secretly. Even Armetrian didn’t know she was working directly with Estes, and if I’m to get him, I need to keep his right-hand woman’s demise quiet. I can’t have him panicking and slipping out of our hands like Gallin has.” His eyes lowered, shadowed. “All in good time, old friend. And as soon as you present me the opportunity.”
“Sir, if I may, we’ve moved carefully and quietly for a long while now, but isn’t it time we act? Not just in apprehending traitors but in defending Angolin against invasion. Just because we have Armetrian and a sloop load of others doesn’t mean we can rest. I know I’m bordering on insubordination, but I’m sick of playing games with them.”
