Abendau's Heir (The Inheritance Trilogy Book 1) (20 page)

On Corun, it had been safe– there had been a crowd of them. Silom had been there. Here, to get close to one person– he couldn’t imagine it. He paused for a moment, before saying, “I don’t know what you mean. I’m friendly, we have a laugh, what more do you want from me?”

“Your trust.”

Kare’s breath drew in sharply.
Oh, that.

“Lichio,” he said, glad of the darkness and the chance to hide his face. “It’s not that I don’t trust you; I do. And it’s not that I don’t like Sonly, because I do. I think she knows that.”

“Damn right, she knows it,” said Lichio, and Kare winced.

What do I say?
He wanted to deflect it, as he always did, but stopped. Lichio had turned up in the middle of the night, because it mattered to him. He was offering something that Kare knew he needed, and it was getting harder and harder to stay distant.

“My dad,” said Kare, “had some visions before he died.” And how little did that describe the hellish weeks on the ship? “I won’t tell you what they were– even Silom doesn’t know the details– but letting anyone get close to me is dangerous for them. The sort of things he told me, it’s not what you’d want your friends to face. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” said Lichio, and he amazed Kare by starting to laugh. “Your dad’s visions? Your dad was mad. You’re basing your life, your friendships, on the visions of a madman? You’re crazier than he was.”

Kare took a deep breath in. He hoped not. The memory of the dream came back to him. The nightmares had been there as long as he remembered, but as he’d got older they’d become more frequent. Now they came most nights. What would happen if one night he couldn’t get out of it? Being stuck in them had driven his dad mad– he didn’t think he’d fare much better.

“What if he’s right?”

“What if it turns out I’m going to destroy your life, and don’t know it?” said Lichio. “What if? What if not? Live for today, you asshole.”

Kare didn’t reply. Live for today and forget about what lay ahead was what he’d tried to do all his life. It had never worked.

“You asked what I want,” said Lichio. “I want you not to cross your arms every time I say something that isn't about work. Not to refuse to go for a drink.”

“Right.” Kare took a deep breath.
Live for today.
Lichio had stayed late tonight and not because he had to. It was Kare’s workload– his formidable workload, admittedly– that was behind, not Lichio’s. He’d been a friend to him since they’
d come back from Corun, good fun to be around, sympathetic about the project team, doing small things to make the disparity in their ranks easier.

“Okay,” said Kare. “I will stop crossing my arms. I will go for a drink, sometimes, when I have time. I’ll try.”

“Good. One other thing– tomorrow, when my sister comes to meet me for lunch, I’d like you to take her out instead,” said Lichio. Kare took a deep breath in and Lichio laughed softly. “That’s right: ask her, and tell her what you just told me, see what she says to it. You’re driving each other mad– at least talk about it.” He stood up, and kicked the seat he was on away from Kare. “And stop hiding down here. Your bunk’s not that bad, and no one is going to creep in during the night and steal you away. It’s an army base; there are guards. Go, get a decent night’s sleep and sort your head out.” He reached the door. “I’ll let myself out.”

Kare watched him.
Trust
. He paused. Did he trust Sonly and Michael? Rjala? He looked around the room– they’d given him this, at least. He thought of Sonly and how he’d been able to tell her his fears and let her hold his hand. How he’d kissed her, and hadn’t wanted to stop.

He reached into his pocket and lifted out a message tab. He turned it over and over in his hand, knowing the contents– he’d memorised them as soon as he’d received it six weeks ago. Even so, he activated it, and a life-size hologram came up in front of him. His mother took shape, composed and regal, sitting at a desk in, he assumed, the palace of Abendau. She smiled and it softened her face, just a little. She looked like Karia.

“Kare,” she said, her voice low and inviting, her eyes looking directly at him. She seemed so real and close that he should be able to touch her. “I invite you to come to Abendau and work with me. You are my heir and if you come to me, of your own volition, you will be recognised as such. My empire will be yours to inherit. You will be treated as royalty, welcomed and embraced.” She paused, as if knowing he would have to gulp against the temptation of knowing her. “Come to me, talk with me. You are my son; you should be with me.” Another pause. Her eyes grew narrow, harder. “Should you fail to do so, it will be considered an open rebellion against my rule, and you
will
bear the consequences.”

The message ended and he lifted the filche. Karia had been her daughter, and she was dead. She hadn’t wanted either of them– his father had told him so many, many times– she’d hoped to turn them into robots who did only her will. He wanted to shred the filche, destroy it like it never existed. Instead, he slipped it back in his pocket. He couldn’
t remove the one connection he had to her, but he could stop carrying it around. Stick it at the bottom of his backpack and stop thinking about the temptation it held. Or the terrifying prospect of turning from being wanted by her to being considered her enemy.

Slowly, he got up, put the blanket back in the corner, and walked to the barracks. As he slipped into the dorm and undressed before climbing into bed, he thought either he had to trust the Banned, or leave. And he had only one other place he could go. He pulled the covers around him, tried to work out when he’d last slept here, and reminded himself there were guards to keep him safe. He closed his eyes.
Trust
. It sounded so easy.

Silom stood, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

He brought his laser gun up, taking care to keep his breath quiet.

He paused, deciding what was best in the dark cave.

“Spider,” he mouthed, and there was a soft buzz of confirmation from his gun. He stepped forward using the stim pad at his feet, keeping in the shadows. Nothing. He took another step and saw the scoper in front of him. He brought the gun up and fired, but missed the activation point on the spider’s back and the spider disappeared, making him swear under his breath.

Cobwebs clung to his face as he pushed into a side cavern. Nothing there, but he took the opportunity to scan the main cave from the darkness. Quiet. He stepped out, took the path to his left. Still no sign of Charl, but he kept his gun up. He didn’t want to use it– a scoper attack was the quickest way to win the game– but it didn’t pay to be complacent.

Movement. Ahead. He crouched, waiting until he was sure it was a scoper, and took his time, making sure of his aim. This time he hit the target on its back. It set off, scuttling across the cave. He followed, and watched the spider jump his opponent’s wrist, making his gun clatter to the floor. The cave lit up and Silom grinned.
Done
. Three spiders, and he’d only needed two. He checked the display details: two minutes.
Beat that.

He pulled his visor off and looked over at the other cubicle, where Charl was holding his arm against his chest. “Fuck you, Dester.”

Silom laughed and faced the small crowd of soldiers watching. “Who’s next?” No one stepped forward, and he couldn’t blame them: six months’ practice combined with the personal security training had paid off; it had been at least three weeks since anyone had taken him. Even that had been lucky– they’d nabbed a scoper as soon as they’d logged on. “Bring it on!”

Still no one, and he stepped out, holstering the gun in its bracket. “You’re all chickenshit.”

The small crowd parted, and Kym stepped through, slim in her cargo trousers, her vest top showing tightly muscled arms. “I’m up for it.”

There were cheers from the crowd, and Silom smiled, a slow smile. At last, someone worth playing with. He swept into an exaggerated bow. “Be my guest.”

Charl handed her his gun and helmet, clasping her hand with his good one for luck. She tightened her other around his for a moment, and then stepped into the cubicle. Silom lifted his gun and pulled the visor down. The games room vanished.

It wasn’t a cave this time, but a forest, filled with the sound of birds and the smell of pine. He walked forwards, his gun up and ready. No Kym. Hell, she was like a wraith. He cursed, stopped, checked again. Nothing. What scoper would she have selected? Hoverfly, bat?

A movement to the side, and he turned, loud and clumsy. He pulled up his gun, but didn’t shoot– he’d already done enough to pinpoint his position. He took a step, stumbled, and looked down to see a rat at his feet.
Crap.
He kicked at it, waiting for the bite, but it wasn’t a scoper. Silom pulled into the shadows, barely breathing. Where the
hell
was she? He cast his mind back, trying to remember how she’d played it last time. He smiled and turned. A snake, a scoper this time, reared up and he stepped back, but was too slow. Its bite– an electric pulse, but by the
gods
it hurt– made him yell and stumble back, his knee threatening to crumple under him.

“Yes!” yelled Kym. “Now who’s champion!”

He ripped his helmet off, heard laughter, and took a moment before he turned to face the crowd, making sure he had a smile plastered on his face.

“Need a seat, Dester?”

Rawle pulled one out, indicated it with a nod. Silom stepped out, careful not to limp. “Piss off, the lot of you.” There were a few more catcalls and he grinned– he probably deserved it.

He turned to Kym, who was smiling from the cubicle. “Another?” she said.

No way. His leg had stiffened, and it would be at least an hour before it wore off.

“Not now. Where’d you go?” he asked, jerking his head back to the cubicle.

“I stayed behind you. You always follow the same check pattern; I just moved with it.”

He nodded. “Good to know. I need to vary it.”

She jumped down and came over to him, nudging under his arm. He didn’t stop her, but there was a familiar sharp pang of guilt. He pushed it away; he couldn’t do anything about Liane. Even if she was alive, she was in a different star system. Besides, the only thing he could offer was a place with the rebels, and fuck her life up even more.

He pulled Kym closer. Le Payne had been right: getting away had given him space to deal with what had happened on Dignad. That Kym had been patient enough to let him had been a big thing. She pushed him up against the counter of the bar, his attempt to stop her less than valiant.

“I win,” she said, shifting against him.

Always
. He kissed her, one hand running through her hair, and her lips tasted sweet, like toffee. There were whistles from Charl and his crowd. He raised one finger behind her back, and they got louder, until he pulled away. He wanted her: now. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Sonly clenched her fists and barely resisted the urge to hit her brother; at six-foot-three to her five-four, she'd come off worse. Instead, she smiled: there were other ways to fight, and she was whipping his ass politically. The board elections were next month and this time she’
d get in, she was sure of it.

“I’m not saying you’re wrong.” Eevan folded his arms. “I’m saying you should think about the position it puts you in.
If
you’re wrong, and you tout him, you’re the one who’ll look like an idiot.”

She stood up, her hands clenched against the table. “It’s my risk, Eevan, and whilst I appreciate your… concern, I’d remind you I don’t spend my time advising you about army personnel.”

He stood too, and for a moment she thought he was going to leave, but he came over to her. He brushed the hair back from her ear, and she didn’
t stop him. Instead, her breath halted. He leaned so close his breath on her neck was a whisper.

“I’ve heard rumours,” he said. “You’re getting friendly with him. It’s bad enough that Lichio is his mate; it doesn’t look good if you get close as well.”

She whirled to face him, angry. "Who I'm friendly with isn't your concern."

"Only trying to advise."

As ever, he made it feel like it was her fault, that she was overreacting; he hadn’t hurt her, or done anything other than talk to her, after all. He never had.

“I don’t appreciate being told what to do, Eevan.”

He backed away, his hands held out in contrition. “Sorry. It’s only because I worry about you. I’ll go.” He paused. “But just ask yourself whether it’s best for the group, or for him.”

She watched until he left, but his words stayed with her. Lichio was adamant he’d been behind an absolutely vicious beating on Kare, one that could have done a lot more damage than it had. One he was fairly sure
had
done more damage. She sat down, a little shaky. She liked Kare: the way they’d been in the project room last night had been new to her, like they had a connection, an understanding. She pushed her hair back. It was lonely, being responsible, having to always watch what she said. The idea of having someone outside of that, a friend, was tempting. Last night, she’d thought Kare might be one.

But if it caused more trouble with Eevan than she already had… she picked up her comms unit, planning to tell Lichio she’d meet him at the mess. She slammed it down on the table. To hell with that, what right did Eevan have to tell her who she could or couldn’t be friends with? She grabbed her data pad, knowing not to leave it unattended when Lichio was on the base. Not because he’d do anything with the information, or use it against her, but because he was perennially nosy, and it didn’t pay to encourage it. She closed down her office. To hell with Eevan.

A few minutes later, she stopped at the door of the project room and took a deep breath. She had to face Kare sometime. But she’d been so forward, taking his hand, getting him to talk about his dreams. In the darkness and the quiet, it had seemed right. And when he’d kissed her, she’d known he liked her– no one kissed like that if they didn’t– but he’
d still sent her away.