Page 46 of The First Spark
“Of those, we estimate half would support military action against Carik. Others might follow, provided the initial effort seemed successful. Then there are the neutral planets, the ones in gray—” Akron pointed at the largest cluster of gray planets, which made up the bulk of Sector Three— “and with your family’s connections, you could sway some of them to join us.”
Chewing on her lip, Kalie sank into her stiff chair. Regardless of their motivations, their logic was sound, but if she unleashed war, the entire Federation would suffer. There was no guarantee the Dalian military would support her, much less the nobility, who would only ever see her as the screw-up daughter of their former enemy. And to complicate everything, Selene was trying to steal the throne. If Mother had anything to say about it, Selene would be the Duchissa.
Under the table, Kalie’s nails tore into her palms.
“If you want him to pay, Hannover,” Mira said, “now’s your chance.”
She took a deep breath and tried to push her worries into an exhale. “I’ll consider it. I need to be crowned. Then I’ll confer with my advisors.”
Gar and Akron exchanged a look.
“If you let me go to Dali now, I’ll have an answer in seventy-two hours. But I can’t make any promises until I see the state of affairs at home.”
Gar clasped his hands. “Very well. I’ll dispatch a shuttle to take you to Dali. May Azura bless you.”
The traditional Dalian farewell brought memories of screams, bodies, and Ariah’s whispered goodbye. Kalie flinched. Pushing the memory of Ariah’s voice down into a box where she locked everything away, she echoed the same and headed for the door.
“I tried telling you she isn’t the one we need,” Akron whispered. “With her track record, she’ll be Dali’s leader in name only. We should’ve summoned Jerran Roth…”
A flush crept up Kalie’s neck as she left the room. With every step she took, the weight pressing down on her shoulders grew.
They were right. If she wanted revenge, war was the only option.Uncle Jerran might advocate for poison, Father might suggest assassins in the night, but they’d never truly get someone close enough to Carik to kill him. The price of war might be too high to pay, though, and the chance of her people trusting her to lead it was next to nothing. She wasn’t capable of stepping into Aunt Calida’s shoes.
She never had been, and she never would be.
Dead Space, Sector 8
Decemmensis-10, 817 cycles A.F.C.
Zane joltedup from his stiff bunk in the empty medbay. His mouth hung open. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
But sure enough, a holoprojection of his face floated above the projector, with two text boxes beside it: one charging him as an accomplice to murder, and one listing a bounty of two hundred thousand credits. He’d seen on the news that the passengers and crew of theChimaerahad been released without charge. He should’ve known better than to think that would include him.
“This is my fault.” On the stool between his bed and the next one over, Mira fidgeted with her ring, a nervous habit he’d noticed long ago. “I should’ve known not to bring you, I should’ve come up with a different plan?—”
“I suggested it,” Zane muttered, clenching his jaw.
Pretending to be a prisoner had been his split-second idea to salvage his chance at getting his money from Hannover. At the time, with Mira athis back, it hadn’t seemed like it could possibly go wrong, and they’d agreed the money made it worth it. He’d been grudgingly impressed by Hannover’s attempt to save him, even if he hadn’t been in any real danger.
Everything had gone according to plan, until now.
“Citizens of the Federation.” As the mournful voice crackled through the old projector, the holoscreen cut to an image of Carik, a classic suit if there ever was one, standing behind a podium with a grave look on his face. “Yesterday morning, I falsely believed Princessa Hannover was under duress, held captive by this man, a depraved ex-soldier by the name Zander Wells.”
His face flashed across the screen, and Zane’s fist tightened around the cup of water in his hand.
“Depraved ex-soldier.” Mira scoffed. “Bastards.”
“Today,” Carik continued, sighing, “I regret to inform you that I was sadly mistaken. I dispatched Admiral Krii, may his soul rest in peace, to rescue Princessa Hannover. Krii succeeded in saving her, and he was led to believe his soldiers had apprehended her captor. But when a soldier brought Wells before Krii to face justice, Wells and the Princessa murdered our brave admiral. You see, Wells was not her captor, but her accomplice, part of the conspiracy to assassinate Duchissa Calida.”
The sliding door groaned open. There, in the doorway, stood Hannover.
The cup slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor. Mira lunged for the towel dispenser and pressed a wad to the puddle of water.
Zane’s nostrils flared.
As Hannover looked at the holoscreen, rage twisted her features, and she marched forward. A dim ray of light shone on the dark bags ringing her eyes and the bruises marking her pale skin.
“Rest assured, I do not issue these charges lightly,” Carik said. “But after a thorough examination of the evidence, my investigators have uncovered a record of a bank transfer from Dali’s Major Governor Jerran Roth to a mercenary, a man who confessed to sending the drone strike on the orders of Roth and Hannover.”
