Radko pulled her weapon.
The door to the palace burst open.
She fired, instinctively. One. Two. Three. Before she knew what was coming, using the desk as shelter. The answering fire hit the desk, and heated it, but the desk remained unscathed.
Four.
They hadn’t been expecting opposition. They would be now.
“Four coming up the stairs,” Han said. “Two in the lift.”
Radko flipped some explosive out of her belt, tamped it around the drawer entry.
“Get out of there,” Han said.
“Get Chaudry and go. I’ll meet you outside.” This desk was indestructible for a reason, and Radko was sure she knew what that reason was. It was the safe. If there was a copy of the report in this room, it would be in that safe.
“They’re carrying weapons of some type. I can’t identify them.”
“Did you hear me? Outside. All of you. Chaudry?”
“Going,” Chaudry said.
Radko raced behind the other desk to shelter from the blast.
“First group coming in,” Han said. Two slightly in front.
Radko could see them. They could see her. But the wall had the distinctive shimmer of Plexiglass. They couldn’t shoot through it. They had to enter the room.
The first burst in through the door. The blast from the drawer slowed them enough for Radko to get the first two shots in. One of their weapons skittered across the floor.
A tranquilizer gun.
She gestured threateningly with her blaster at the two orderlies—for they were dressed like orderlies—who paused outside the door. She ran for the drawer.
A comms. Yes. She snatched it up.
Someone, somewhere, was shouting.
“Two more coming behind these.”
“Han. Get the hell out of there. Where are van Heel and Chaudry?”
“Gone.”
“Good. No heroics. Now go.”
More people burst through from the palace door. They had blasters; the orderlies had tranquilizers. Radko took her chance with the orderlies. She raced for the door, firing as she went. She made it outside.
The Plexiglass stopped the blaster fire.
Radko waved her blaster threateningly at the orderlies. “Come near, and I’ll fry you.”
They backed away.
“Farther,” Radko said.
“There are two more coming up the stairs,” Han said urgently.
Radko fired toward the stairs, still staring at the orderlies in front of her.
Someone screamed, and there was the thud of someone falling.
The orderlies backed away.
Radko raced for the stairs. “Get the hell out of here, Han,” as she grabbed the railings and swung over, holding on till the last minute to slow her fall and minimize the distance.
There was no answer from Han.
Radko raced for the yard. Made it. Only to pull up as soldiers in the uniform of the Lesser Gods flooded through the entry.
How many people did it take to cover a single break-in?
One of the soldiers at the front raised a tranq gun.
Another team of soldiers blocked the hallway behind her.
There was nowhere to run.
She felt the sting of the dart in her arm. Pulled it out. Only to feel the sting of two more, one in her back and one in her leg.
CHAPTER TWENTY: EAN LAMBERT
The invitation from Emperor Yu arrived while the Eleven was chasing the Iolo.
The Emperor of Lancia expects the presence of Linesman Lambert at supper.
Ean ignored it until after he came out of regen on Confluence Station. The burn on his leg itched where the new skin had taken; he’d come away with strict instructions on what he couldn’t do until after his third regeneration session. But the burn wasn’t painful anymore, and he could worry about other things, like how to refuse the invitation without aggravating the Emperor.
But first things first, and the lines always came first. He’d promised Scout Ship Three to the Xantos. He’d somehow promised the Confluence it could choose its own crew.
“And we are choosing.”
Didn’t he know it.
He called Abram. “I want to address the council. We need to hurry assigning ships to worlds. Otherwise, the council won’t get to choose.” He made the line as secure as he could. “The ships are desperate for linesmen. They’ll take any who come along, which is how Jakob nearly got Scout Ship Three. It’s a weakness we can’t afford.”
“Line business.” Abram considered it. “It might even settle things because people are worried about—” He grimaced and didn’t say the word they both knew was “Lancia.” “I’ll schedule you to address the council.”
“Thank you.” Ean clicked off.
“Thank you,” came a whispered echo underneath his.
He smiled and turned his attention to the other problem. Declining Emperor Yu’s invitation politely.
Rigel’s lessons had taught him how to accept invitations from royalty, but they’d never taught him how to refuse them. Ean had declined two invitations from Michelle already, but would the same politely worded refusal be enough for the Emperor?
“So, Ean.” He became aware Sale had said it twice. Or maybe three times. “What happened on the Gruen this afternoon?”
He was glad it was Sale who was asking. “I’ll tell you after you tell me if this is a polite enough refusal for Emperor Yu.” He held up his comms and the message he had ready:
It is with regret that I must decline, as I am presently attending to line issues.
“Or do I have to refuse by calling one of his assistants?”
Sale snatched his comms. “Let me see.” She scanned the earlier message. “You’ve had this for hours, Ean. We could have had you there by now.”
“Michelle doesn’t want me to go to functions.”
“This is not an invitation. It’s a summons. Shit. Grab your formal clothes. Quickly.”
“But—”
“No buts, Ean. Hurry. You can change on the shuttle.”
Ean called Michelle as he collected his formal uniform. Michelle was unavailable, so he left a semicoherent message with Michelle’s assistant, Lin—which he wasn’t even sure would be passed on—and made his way back to the shuttle. Lately, he spent more time in shuttles than he did on station.
Sale called up on her comms. “Ean, supper will be over before you get there.”
Dancing attendance on Emperor Yu had never been part of Ean’s plans. Not before he’d met Michelle, or after. But the man held his friends’ lives in his hands. If even Michelle was worried about what Yu could do, the best Ean could do to keep his friends safe was to do as Yu requested—within reason. He hurried back to the shuttle.
Maybe he could use the time to ask Yu to rethink Radko’s wedding.
Sale might have been reading his thoughts. “Don’t mention Radko,” she said, as they took off at speed. “Emperor Yu never, never, changes his mind. You’ll endanger yourself, Radko, Vega, and anyone else who was complicit in it. So don’t. Now, you still haven’t told me what happened today.”
Tell the truth, Radko would have said, simple and from the lines. Plus, it got her off the subject of Yu, and what he could and couldn’t do there.
“You know Redmond tried to steal Scout Ship Three.”
“The whole galaxy knows.”
“They had some sort of magnet. They linked the two ships.”
“It’s old technology,” Sale said, surprising him. “Apparently they used it to link generation ships together. To save on fuel.”