Chapter Fifteen

Tantos III, Tantos System

The security troops led Arta and her entourage through the long corridors of the Tantos palace tower. The building was just as opulent now as it had been when she’d been here almost a year ago, but there was a foreboding quality to it now that she was certain was more than just her imagination, a certain… sterility. She had a distinct impression that this entire floor had been cleared of inhabitants just to make certain no one interfered with the rebel dukes’ plans for her, and that absence left a cold and forbidding air. Arta resisted the urge to shiver. Queens did not show discomfort, especially not in the presence of their enemies.

Guildmaster Madran led the way in silence, flanked by equally taciturn security personnel; then came Arta’s company with more security forces taking up the rear. They were pinned in on all sides and would be caught surrounded by enemies if they tried anything. Of course, trying anything just now wasn’t the plan, and would actively defeat the purpose of coming here. Arta needed to speak with the rebels in person; only then would events be able to proceed as she and Mardoban had agreed they should.

Finally, they arrived in an opulently appointed waiting room that stood before a pair of grand double doors. Madran raised a hand for a halt, then turned to Arta and bowed. “Their Graces await you within, my lady,” he said. My lady, Arta thought, not ‘Your Majesty.’ It was technically acceptable but still something of a snub, especially when he’d just given the dukes their full honorific. “As agreed, you and your assistant will be permitted within. Your guards must wait out here.”

“As we agreed,” Arta said, nodding. “Lieutenant, you may remain here until our business is completed.” Lieutenant Rehan nodded back and gave a sharp salute, then gestured for the other guards to take up positions around the waiting room’s outer walls.

“I assure you, the Queen’s safety is in capable hands,” Madran assured her; the lieutenant shot him a dubious look. “If you wish to partake of refreshments while you wait, we are willing to provide anything you might desire.” He clapped his hands and a number of serving mechs glided in from side doors, trays laden with snacks and beverages born on their metal limbs. “The Tantos Dukes have traditionally maintained quite a fine pantry, if I do say so myself.”

“We’re not here to relax, guildsman,” Rehan snapped. “We’re here to do our jobs. Your attempt to distract us won’t work.”

Madran shrugged. “As you wish,” he said, and gestured for the mechs to withdraw. One of them passed close to Latharna and as she leaned forward to catch a glimpse of what it was carrying, she suddenly tripped, stumbling into the machine. The mech was knocked off-balance in the air, spilling its pastries on the floor; Latharna wobbled and pressed a hand against its side to steady herself against its antigrav engines. Finally, she’d righted herself and stepped back, allowing the mech to begin cleaning up the mess without interference.

“I’m so sorry, guildmaster,” she said. “These shoes are so awkward – I’m sure you understand.” She turned to Arta and bowed with her hands folded in front of her. “Forgive me, Your Majesty,” she added, but as she raised her head, she met Arta’s eye and gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. Arta dipped her own head slightly in acknowledgment. Step one was complete.

“Assuming everyone is done falling over themselves,” Madran said with his lips pursed. He probably thought that both Arta and Latharna were completely incompetent after that little display; if he did, the better for both of them. “May I remind you that there are some very important people waiting behind these doors who are expecting you to meet with them at any moment?”

“Of course, guildmaster,” Arta said. “We are ready to begin.”

Madran nodded and gestured to the doors, which slowly began to open in response to some control he’d no doubt built into his glove; once such a trick might have impressed Arta, but now that she knew Midaia and Shiran – and had discovered Adept’s powers of her own – it seemed cheap and tawdry. Gesturing for Latharna to follow, she swept through the doors and found herself in the conference room.

The room was dominated by a great table with an empty chair set at the near end; at the opposite side sat three familiar figures. Respen, sleek and sharp as a dueling sword’s blade, who might have been handsome were it not for his coldly predatory expression. Sateira, resplendent in robes of fine gold, haughty and self-assured. And Naudar, older than the others and holding his ever-present cane in one hand, his expression calculating and shrewd. Behind each of the rebels stood a bodyguard; the only one Arta recognized was Darius ast Sakran, who regarded her with a blank expression but nodded slightly nonetheless, a gesture of respect not from subject to queen, but from one duelist to another.

“And so, you have come after all,” Naudar said. “Take a seat, Artakane. We have much to discuss.”

///

Tantos Station had been founded centuries ago, built on the bones of an old Imperial base with its reconstruction funded through payments from a variety of guilds, several aristocratic families, and a handful of outright criminal enterprises. All of them were interested in a port that would stand outside of the usual regulations of the Kingdom, where anything might be bought or sold for the right price, no matter how illicit. Technically, the station was subject to the monarchy of the Dozen Stars and the Duchy of Tantos, but in practice enough bribes changed hands to keep anyone from taking too much of an interest in its operations. The Tantos Dukes had long groused about the presence of the station orbiting just beyond their home planet, but it had proven too much of a source of revenue over the years for them to express their hostility too strongly – and the constantly changing collection of interests that passed for government on the station made it clear that any attempt to challenge their sovereignty would end poorly. Nobody asked questions on Tantos Station, and some of those who made it their home who were very dangerous people indeed.

It was one of those people whom Pakorus had come here to meet with. Nobody knew much about the man called Specter – if he was a man; there were rumors that Specter might actually be a woman, an alien, or even an ancient mech from the last days of the Third Republic, with millennia of knowledge hidden in its mind. Nobody knew what Specter looked like or where he – or she, or it, or they – had come from. But it was common knowledge that there was very little on Tantos Station that Specter didn’t know about, and that he was willing to sell that information, if you could meet his price. Pakorus knew that his father had had dealings with Specter in the past, and though he didn’t entirely trust the information broker, he respected him – and his talents. If there was anyone in the Dozen Stars who could trace the origin of the Commander and his assassins, and who might have been pulling their strings, then Specter was surely that person, or at least knew where such a person could be found. The ast Orlanes name, coupled with a significant payment from the house accounts, had gotten Pakorus a meeting. Now was the time to see if Specter lived up to his reputation.

The duke’s son landed his fighter in one of Tantos Station’s many docking bays, noted thankfully on his scanners that he wasn’t pursued and that his father had therefore gotten his message, paid the dockmaster, and then made his way into the station’s main corridor, pulling up his hood to try and avoid too much notice.

Mardoban had described Tantos Station to him, and so Pakorus had been expecting the crowds, the diversity of life, the ramshackle construction that collectively managed to achieve a certain level of grandeur in itself. But there was something in the air about him as he walked along that his father hadn’t described, a kind of wary urgency. Everywhere he saw people – humans, of course, but also more aliens than he’d ever seen in one place before – going about their business in a hurried manner, speaking in rushed whispers and glaring warily at him as he passed. At first, he thought he’d been recognized as an aristocratic scion, someone who didn’t belong, but then he realized that everyone was staring at everyone else in much the same way. There was an aura of fear and suspicion that had gripped Tantos Station like a vice.

The occupation, Pakorus realized – things had changed in the Tantos system, and everyone on the station knew it, and didn’t know what might happen next. The arrival of the Lion in-system had doubtless only exacerbated the concerns – everyone here was afraid that things were about to explode. And, Pakorus feared, they were more right than they knew. He’d best conduct his business with Specter quickly and then get out. This station could turn ugly very, very quickly.

Pakorus quicked his stride, pulling his cloak more tightly around him. So determined was he to reach his destination that he didn’t notice the pale woman in black who was seated outside a small, dingy restaurant sipping a small drink, whose bright eyes followed him intently as he went.

///

Pakorus found the entrance to Specter’s domain to be much as his father had described; a lengthy walk down an apparently innocuous side-corridor, ending at a plain door where two armed guards waited to confirm his identity. After they scanned him, checked his identicard and waved him through, he found himself in a dimly lit room dominated by a table that was bisected by a nearly opaque screen. He seated himself in the chair on his side of the screen and waited for what felt like several minutes before something moved on the other side, a shadowy shape he could barely make out but seemed to have the general outline of a very tall, thin man.

“Pakorus ast Orlanes,” a voice said from behind the screen, electronically garbled so that it gave away nothing concerning the speaker’s identity. “A pleasure to meet you at last. And also, a surprise. I was expecting your father.”

Pakorus felt himself tense at Specter’s words, but he forced the reaction down and refused to let it get the better of him. “I admit that I used my father’s account to set up this meeting with you,” he said; with this being, he felt that honesty would be the best policy. He doubted Specter took kindly to anyone who tried to lie to him. “I thought it would be easier that way. He’s in-system at the moment, but he has other things to deal with. But I have questions that I hoped you could answer for me, and I promise you that I can pay you very well.”

‘No doubt, no doubt,” Specter mused. “A resourceful young man, I see, and bold – perhaps too bold. You took an awful risk coming here today, Master ast Orlanes, and you are fortunate I have a certain degree of fondness for your father – as you have no doubt guessed, I do not take kindly to being deceived. Of course, I suspected that it was a relative of the duke’s I was dealing with from the beginning, as the tone and wording of your messages was different enough from your father’s to arouse my suspicions, and you were the most likely candidate. A fact for which you should be grateful, as my guards therefore knew to let you pass. Still, I have to wonder what would drive a young man of such a powerful family, the heir to a ducal seat no less, to risk himself in such a way, coming to a lawless port on the edge of what is soon likely to be a warzone. Was your curiosity really so burning? Or was it something else that motivated you? Desire for glory, perhaps? To take risks?” A sly note entered the distorted voice. “Or were you perhaps interested in impressing a girl? I hear you and the young queen have spent time in one another’s company.”

Pakorus felt his face flush, and Specter chuckled. “Ah, the young are so predictable,” he said. “But you’ll receive no judgment from me, Master ast Orlanes. I am less interested in the motives of those who seek counsel with me than I am in their willingness to pay, which you have already demonstrated. Ask me your questions, and I will answer as best I may. I do not lie when credits are on the line.”

“All right, then,” Pakorus said, finding his voice. “When my father came to see you last year, he was looking for information on the pirate leader who called himself the Commander; the same pirate who attacked the royal tournament on Carann and revealed himself to be the same assassin who led the attack that killed Queen Aestera. We still know nothing of his background. I hoped you might be able to tell us more.”

Specter went still behind his screen. “You are aware that when your father asked me this, I was able to get him very little concrete information and what he had he already used,” he said.

“I know,” Pakorus said. “But that was a while back, and you’re not somebody to let a mystery lie, are you? And you told me over the computer message that you had discovered something disturbing. What do you know?”

Specter chuckled again. “What do I know?” he asked. “Much. But what you mean to say is, what do I know about this topic? In which case I can truthfully say less than I’d like, but I know enough to be very concerned. I would have likely attempted to arrange a meeting with your father, or even young Artakane, had you not reached out to me first. I am not a patriot, nor an altruist, but the fate of the Dozen Stars does concern me, considering I happen to live here. And what I have found concerns the entire Kingdom.

“After the Commander’s death, the royal guard confiscated his body, his weapons, and, once they were tracked down, his ships. I managed to use certain… channels to get access to the data on these pieces of technology. Much was damaged beyond repair, especially the Commander’s own cybernetics, but what I was able to reconstruct worried me. You see, the technology was clearly of human origin, but did not appear to be of Kingdom, Realtran, Imperial, or Alealam make, and was too sophisticated to have come from one of the minor nations. Did that mean there was someone else out there, who was waging a most insidious war against us? That is what I believe we were meant to conclude, but I wasn’t sure. Surely if there was an unknown power able to create and deploy such weapons, we would have heard of them? So I did further digging and was able to match the cybernetics at long last to a secret research project that was scrapped almost two decades ago because it wasn’t considered cost-effective, and was so classified almost no one not directly involved had ever heard of it.”

Specter shifted behind his screen, and Pakorus had a feeling that he was looking right at him now. “This project originated in the Empire.”

“The Empire,” Pakorus breathed. “They’re behind this? But why? What could they gain? I mean, sure, they still hate that we managed to break free of them, but that was centuries ago and they’re busy fighting the Alaelam right now. Why would the Emperor risk fighting a war on two fronts if he could at all avoid it?”

“If I knew the answer to that, I would be a very wealthy man,” Specter said. “Or at least, a wealthier man than I already am. It may not even be the Emperor’s own work; the project was scrapped, after all, and it may be a renegade senator or patrician has revived it to do their own dirty work. In any case, I tracked the project back to its original laboratory and determined that despite being officially discontinued it was still operational, but my agents were unable to penetrate it and determine who, exactly, is currently in charge. What we did learn, and what worries me the most, is that several coded transmissions have been beamed from the laboratory to the Dozen Stars. They didn’t originate there but were routed through it as an attempt to throw off the trail – so far, successfully, as I haven’t been able to determine the transmission’s actual origin point. I was, however, able to determine the intended recipients – Dukes Respen and Naudar, and Duchess Sateira.”

Pakorus felt his mouth go dry. “Lord,” he breathed.

“Quite,” Specter said drily. “Whoever created the Commander isn’t done with us, young man – quite to the contrary. They are behind the current rebellion as well – or at least involved, as I doubt those three would have required much provocation to turn against a young, untried queen. Someone is very determined to see the Dozen Stars, or at least the House ast Carann, fall. I, for one, would like to know why.”

“I think,” Pakorus said slowly, “that my father and the queen would be very interested to hear about this.”

“I quite agree,” Specter said. “Which is why I’ve taken the liberty of storing the material on an external drive in anticipation that you would want it. I’ve included a history of the Imperial cybernetics project, so far as I was able to track it, and the coordinates of the laboratory, among other things. Give it to your father with my compliments. I trust he’ll find a way to repay me.”

A small compartment on Pakorus’s side of the table opened, and he reached inside and removed a small, plain drive. “Thank you, Specter,” he said, slipping it into his pocket. “I’ll make sure my father gets it – and that he knows where it came from.”

“I know you will,” Specter said. “Now, then, I recommend you leave this place. I think things are about to come to a head on Tantos III, and they are liable to get ugly up here as well when that happens. And I’m afraid I do have another appointment after you, with the sort of person it’s unwise to keep waiting.”

“Of course,” Pakorus said, standing and giving a respectful bow in the direction of the silhouetted figure. “It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

It seemed that Specter was about to reply, and then suddenly the door to the outside corridor burst open and one of the armored guards from outside hurried in. “We’ve got a problem, boss,” he said, sounding shaken.

“I believe I have told you to never interrupt me when I’m with a client,” Specter’s voice hissed. “This had better be important.”

“Trust me, it is,” the guard said. “We just got word from one of our sneaks. There’s a whole compliment of toughs in guild security getup marching down the central corridor, roughing up anyone who gets in their way. And, boss, they’re heading here.”

///

Arta settled herself into the seat Naudar had indicated, and Latharna took up a position behind her, matching that of the other bodyguards. “Yes, Your Grace,” she said coolly, letting her gaze slide from one duke to the next. “We do have much to discuss. Starting with an explanation for why the three of you launched an unprovoked attack and occupation of this planet – a planet that is, I must remind you, under the protection of the throne.”

“That is indeed the very reason we launched this ‘unprovoked’ attack,” Sateira said. “We wished to send a message to the throne and to the kingdom at large. We were expressing our displeasure with the crowning of an untried youth nobody had ever heard of before the royal tournament and wished to provide a demonstration of the throne’s weakness in the face of a threat. Both of those goals have been accomplished.”

“I see,” Arta said, letting her tone slip from cool to icy. “And I suppose the fact that this represented an attack against a fellow duchess and by extension against your lawful queen simply slipped your minds, did it?”

“Lawful queen?” Naudar asked. “An interesting way to put it, don’t you think? And how do we know, exactly, that you really are the legal heir to the throne? The word of an old meddler who thrives on secrets and never made any pretensions of serving anything but his own private agenda? Your appearance, which could easily be faked by reconstructive surgery? Even your DNA samples could be faked, with somewhat more effort. Honestly, I see no particular reason to credit that you even are the daughter of Aestera ast Carann. Oh, don’t give me that look. I don’t doubt you believe it. But you wouldn’t be the first person Shiran has caught up in his web, and I doubt you’ll be the last.”

Arta felt her fists clench, and heard Latharna stiffen behind her, but she drew a deep breath and let it out, refusing to let her anger show – Naudar was trying to bait her, and she wouldn’t let him get the satisfaction. “Be that as it may,” she said, “succession in the Dozen Stars has never been purely a matter of blood, and a majority of the council of dukes has voted to acknowledge my right to the throne. This line of questioning will get you nowhere.”

“Which is why we saw fit to bring an army to the negotiating table,” Respen said, his tone irritable. “Enough of this verbal fencing – we all know why we’re here. These are our demands to you, Artakane. You will step down from the throne, acknowledge me as the rightful successor, and retire somewhere that you won’t be a threat – I believe a convent is the accepted destination. In return, Katanes and Tantos III will be spared destruction. Refuse us, and they will suffer – as will the entire Kingdom when civil war splits it in two. What do you say?”

Sateira rolled her eyes. “Respen, as ever you are as subtle as a shot from a beam cannon at point-blank range,” she said, then looked back to Arta. “Do forgive him his lack of decorum, but while he didn’t get there the way I’d have preferred, the point stands. Step down now, or face war. What do you choose?”

Arta looked across the table at Naudar. “Do you support this?” she asked. “Everyone knows Respen and Sateira are aggressive and ambitious, but Duke Mardoban always speaks highly of you. I’d expected better.”

Naudar merely smiled and shrugged, and in a flash, Arta saw the general shape of his plans; he’d ride the other two to power, let them do the bloody work of seizing the throne, and then he would betray them, positioning himself to be seen not as a warlord but as the Kingdom’s savior from a pair of brutal usurpers. No, she’d get no help here, not that she’d ever truly expected to. Did the others realize his treachery? Almost certainly, she decided, but no doubt they thought they could defeat him when the time came, so that Respen could keep his stolen throne – and what for Sateira? A position of power at Respen’s court, or even a political marriage to become his queen? And how would the people of the Dozen Stars fare under such strife, with such treacherous creatures as these on the throne?

“No,” Arta finally said. “I didn’t come here to hand over my crown to any of you – and certainly not to Duke Respen ast Aurann, whose love of his army is so great he reduces his civilian subjects to little more than slaves to maintain it. A warlord like that will go looking for a war, and he’ll no doubt find it. But I won’t let the Dozen Stars be given to a tyrant while I can help it. I came here to receive an accounting for this rebellion, and I will have it.” There, she thought as she finished speaking. How did that sound? Did I do it right, Mardoban?

The three rebels looked at each other and smiled coldly. “I’m afraid that’s not going to be how this ends, dear child,” Naudar said. “We know that you fancy yourself a person of honor and integrity, and that Tantos is your home duchy and Katanes your home planet, and that you would come running if they were threatened. Your own character would demand it. And therefore, you would walk right into our trap. I wanted to resolve this without bloodshed, but if you will not budge, this is how it will go. We outnumber you three to one and have more of our private troops and security forces waiting nearby. We will take you captive and force Mardoban and the Lion to stand down and then you, alas, will be killed while making a tragically doomed escape attempt – as will your companion, to make certain no one can challenge our story. Then, with the throne empty and the most powerful duke in the kingdom at our mercy, we will travel to Carann and install Respen on the throne. Of course, there may be resistance, and it can only be settled through bloodshed. Regardless of what you think of us, we’d prefer to avoid shedding more Dozen Stars blood than necessary, and no doubt you will as well. So now that you understand exactly how much you are at our mercy and what the consequences of refusal are, I will ask you again – step down. Give up your crown to Respen, and everything will go much more smoothly and with a minimum of fuss.”

Arta met Naudar’s eyes without blinking, and then her gaze slid behind to Darius, who stood there looking awkward and somewhat apologetic; when she met his eyes, he looked away. Her gaze shifted to Respen and Sateira in turn, and then she glanced back over her shoulder to Latharna and exchanged a silent nod. Finally, she faced forward again and drew herself up in her chair, regarding her enemies with an expression of cold disdain.

“Duke Naudar,” she said finally, “do you think I’m a fool?”

“I beg your pardon?” Naudar asked.

“Obviously you do,” she said. “You thought I was a stupid, overly-idealistic girl who’d come running as soon as her home was threatened, who’d place herself in your power without a plan and let you get away with whatever you wanted. But you’re wrong. I didn’t come here without a plan. You thought you were laying a trap for me, but I was laying one for you instead. And congratulations – you walked right into it.” Arta’s smile widened as she reached up and stroked the clasp on her cape. “Now, as dear Cousin Respen said, let’s get the formalities out of the way and get straight to the point. I’m ready to accept your surrender now. Or must we do things the hard way?”