Empress of a Thousand Skies(25)
“He’s—he’s still alive?” she asked, horrified. She turned to see Niture, sitting up, his back propped against the wall of vines, his features so horribly melted and disfigured he was unrecognizable.
“I’ll take over from here,” Dahlen said, temporarily distorting the hologram as he walked through it.
“How is this possible?” Rhee asked. She was using technology that wasn’t supposed to exist. It was a crime to look into someone’s cube without permission—it was more than a crime. Cubes stored not just information but memories, feelings, sensations, thought-impressions. “This is wrong. This is illegal. At the G-1K summit—I can’t remember if it was the third or the fourth—but it was clearly forbidden by law—”
“‘Forbidden by law’?” Dahlen tilted his head and looked at her. Through her. “Have you seen what terrible things the laws of men enable?”
No. She believed in the law. She believed in the laws that came out of those summits, certainly. Over the past sixty years, ever since the cube had been invented, the universe’s greatest scientists had gathered at the G-1K to review and regulate the interplanetary laws around its use. They were high-profile individuals, and every planet or territory inevitably plastered their names on a landmark or their faces on a digital credit.
Dahlen sorted through the holograms with his hands, flicking away the ones that didn’t interest him. There was a pattern to it, and Rhee did her best to follow, but couldn’t make sense of another man’s mind. She was curious, ashamed, but most of all, furious.
“Stop this.”
Dahlen ignored her, working in a way that was methodical and mechanical—but with every image he slid away, a seismic shudder moved through her. She was watching an entire life collapsed, and felt the weight not just of bringing the Miseu to near death, but of something much worse.
“It seems I’m not wrong.” Dahlen said. “Here. Look.” Buried under so many layers of memories, some fragmented and some crystalline, was a recent memory of a priority message sent to all Kalu government personnel. The hologram showed a man, his skinny lips pursed, his expression serious.
Rhee’s breath caught in her throat. It was Crown Regent Seotra. Her father’s best friend, grim-faced and power hungry, who’d stood in the hangar and sent her family off to their deaths. Rhee had seen Seotra as she snuck off the craft, had seen the way he smiled—how many times had she replayed that memory?—and a look of glee, as if he were only inches from the thing he wanted most in the world.
Only hours from what he wanted most.
Dahlen touched the image of Seotra, and like water disturbed by a stone, it began to ripple and move.
“I won’t mince words. This is a dark, dark day for the galaxy.” Seotra paused and brought a closed fist to his mouth like he was desperately trying to contain emotion. “Since she was the last living member of the Ta’an dynasty, Rhiannon’s death places the hard-won treaty between Fontis and Kalu at risk. But I must emphasize that even if the treaty no longer has legal validity, we still have a moral responsibility to honor its provisions.”
Rhiannon’s heart sank. Seotra was smart—too smart. On the face of it, he was encouraging the Kalu to keep the peace. Between the lines, he was reminding them that with her death, the treaty that had ended the universe’s bloodiest war was all but broken.
“I would like to reiterate that for those of you who are so selfishly using the Princess’s death as an excuse to sow violence and chaos in the capital, and in order to justify your despicable acts of civil disobedience, punishment will be swift and severe.”
So the sergeant had spoken the truth: There was rioting in Kalu. Her heart swelled at the thought that some people, at least, were furious about her death, but she clamped any bit of joy down quickly. What did it matter? All it meant was that there were only more deaths, this time in her name.
Revealing herself now would legally reinstate the treaty, but could she wrest power away from Seotra successfully? Would her people welcome or denounce her? Would she be killed before she could get her revenge?
“As of eleven hundred hours, martial law will be in effect across the planet, all Kalusian colonies and territories, and Kalusian designated airspace.” Seotra brought a hand to his forehead, the first sign he’d shown of discomfort. “I’ll be traveling to Tinoppa to honor the Princess’s life, and her death, at a ceremony three days from now, conducted by Tai Reyanna, Princess Rhiannon’s personal adviser.” His fingers tightened on the podium. Even in holo, Rhee could see his knuckles whiten. “I ask you as a planet to pray for us that we will see our way out of these dark times.”
Rhee balled her hands so that Dahlen wouldn’t see they were shaking. “That hypocrite, ‘paying respects’ with the Tai to win points with the interplanetary community even as he mobilizes for a war in my name,” she said. She wondered, secretly, if it was more than just an act. Could Tai Reyanna have conspired with him? Rhee shook the thought loose, angry for even thinking it. “We need to go to Tinoppa. We need to stop him.”
Dahlen continued to sort through more messages. Reports of a hyperloop hijacked in Uryra, an electromagnetic pulse detonated in Erisha, an occupied embassy in Sibu—Kalusian cities wrecked by havoc.
Rhee’s anger was going to suffocate her. She reached out and pounded on the console. Dahlen turned to her finally, a look on his face that bordered on boredom. “Are you listening to me?” she hissed, and drew herself up a little taller. “I demand we go to Seotra.”