Chương 89: 2.30 Effective Lies

"This guy has a neurodeck," Freddy said, cutting through Simo's tech uniform to reveal a bulky, polymer-lined port in his spine. It wasn't pretty tech, but there was no doubt what it was for. Hector silently berated himself for not thinking to check. It made sense that someone with those fighting skills, someone with that level of aura, would be a prime candidate for a deck; even if he didn't have a sponsor in one of the Great Houses, he could have earned enough to pay for the process.

He watched as Freddy extracted the metallic, domino-sized device, pulling it out of the rubbery slot with a squelch. He turned it this way and that.

"No maker's mark." Hector stepped closer, feeling more than a little raw that Paige and Kristy were pissed at him. Maybe the plan had gone a little awry, but Mathews wasn't wrong; they could have lost a lot more if Simo had been given a chance to plan—to make the perfect opportunity to take Freddy out.

"You should hang onto it. Revive him into a white room and have one of the Ventress AIs work on him."" White room?" Freddy looked up at him.

"You mean like an engram retention environment?"

"Yeah—but not a nice one. I'm sure your family has what I'm talking about."

"Problem is," the kid said with a sigh, "for all I know, it was people in my family who put him up to this." Hector shrugged.

"Forget your family, then. We can get a sim-rig and repurpose it." Freddy stood, clutching the neurodeck in his fist." We?"

"Yeah, kid. It's not just your neck on the line here."

"Now those are facts," Kristy said, walking close with a large canister in her hands.

"Well, go on. I'm gonna spray the shit out of this mess." Hector stared at her for a moment before walking over to the surviving techs—Willa and Ling.

"You two all right?" Willa shook her head, blinking back tears.

"Just coming to grips with the fact that we're probably going to die." Hector glanced at the somber-faced man lying beside her. The nanites had long-since stopped the bleeding on the stump of his amputated leg, but he was still wan and frail-looking. Hector felt sorry for them both, but he also knew Willa wasn't wrong about their situation.

"We could close off this tunnel when we go to the rift—leave you two behind."" Leave us?" Willa's expression went from self-pitying to horrified. Hector hurried to add, "Only until we can secure the rift, establish a foothold, and then come to extract you." Freddy's footsteps crunched on dusty gravel as he came closer and said, "I don't know, Hector. Consider the real possibility that some or all of the extraction team might be bought off.

If we win through and get out, what are the odds we can get another team together to come here and extract these two before the rift shifts again?" Hector looked at him.

"You think your mother won't have Flint and half a dozen heavy hitters coming in after you?" Freddy looked down at the two techs, then shrugged.

"Like we talked about—if someone went to this trouble to take me out, my mother's probably in danger, too. Could be one of my cousins or uncles looking to take out our little branch of the family. My mom's not well-loved, and by extension, neither am I, though that has more to do with my place in the line of succession." Hector nodded, stewing on the information as Freddy squatted beside Willa and touched his helmet. It clicked and hissed, the front half opening to slide up over his head, revealing his face.

He smiled at Ling, then turned to Willa.

"I'm awfully sorry, ma'am. I'm afraid this whole mess is because of me." She looked down, clearly flustered in his presence. It was something Hector had seen a million times in his old life; when Royals deigned to get close to members of the underclass, when they spoke kindly to them, it invariably broke down some resistance.

He wondered if Freddy knew he was doing it—the effect his perfect skin, eyes, posture, and diction had on someone like Willa, a tech willing to risk everything to earn some bits going into a place like the rift world.

"It's—well, it's not really your fault, is it?" she asked, wiping the tear streaks from her cheeks.

"Seems to me the people trying to kill you are the ones with blood on their hands." Hector grabbed the kid's shoulder, tugged him to his feet, and steered him toward the curtain. On the way, he glanced at Kristy and Paige, who were working together on the mess—the bodies. Neither looked happy, and more than one hooded glare came his way. He thought that would be the extent of the hostility, but Kristy called out, "Are you going to help with this?"

Hector looked at her, hesitating for a moment while he filtered his words. When he spoke, his voice was measured and calm.

"Yes. Let me get Freddy set up on guard duty. Hopefully, the fight didn't draw anything to us." With that, the two of them ducked through the polymer and, as they walked toward the turrets at the cave mouth, he said, "Okay, Freddy, I'd say it's time you spilled some more of the story. Why are people in your family trying to kill you, and don't give me the line of succession bullshit. There's more to it than that." Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Freddy stopped in his tracks. He turned to stare at Hector, his face still uncovered by his helmet's visor. After a long couple of seconds, he nodded and said, "What if I told you the Empire is rotting from the inside?" ### The transport bumped and shuddered as the driver, one of Gladia's bodyguards, took manual control and piloted it through fences, yards, alleys, and culverts.

It was a capable machine, as far as Lemon could tell, and though its motor whined and the suspension struggled with the sudden jolts, it kept moving. All the while, Gladia spoke to someone Lemon couldn't see.

"He got away, though? … Good, at least we have that going for us. If I lost Flint… Yes, yes. You're certain? They've got the bridge? … Who do you suggest, then?" As she spoke, Lemon hugged Kit close to her side, holding him still against the jostling, wild ride.

"You okay, buster?" she whispered, nuzzling his thick blond hair. He nodded, eyes big.

"Where are we going?"

"Someplace safe, I think." Lemon looked out the dark, diamond-glass window and watched as the world grew even darker and the vehicle slowed. They'd pulled into some sort of industrial building. The driver looked at the other security officer, also sitting in the front seat.

"I think we're clear for now." She nodded, turning to Gladia.

"Ma'am? Any directions?" Gladia held up a finger, still focused on her call.

"Why is she here? … Really? You spoke with Sparling yourself?" She glanced at Lemon, narrowing her eyes.

"I'd say we need to talk to our man in Helio again. I think a certain seedy club owner could use a visit." Lemon felt her mouth go dry. Who is she talking to? Of course, she recognized the implication; Gladia was talking to someone, and something about Grando had come up. Or something about Hector that led back to Grando. Gladia kept talking, "Did Vicki send you our location?" She looked at the female bodyguard, who nodded.

"We'll wait here, then." With that, she sighed, leaning back in her seat. She tapped her polished white boot on the console in front of her.

"There are snacks in there, young man. Get yourself something." Kit looked at Lemon, who nodded, and then the boy fell forward onto his knees, opening the polished synth-wood cabinet. Gladia looked at Lemon and asked, "What do you know about Iris Sparling?" The name was familiar, but it took Lemon a moment to connect it to the appropriate memory. After a moment's pause, she said, "If it's the same woman—all I know is the name Iris —she was there, at the rift, when Orin went to see what happened.

She told him it had been sabotaged. I think she suggested we might want to run for it."

"That's all?" Lemon shrugged.

"I don't keep company with many fancy ladies." When Gladia just smiled, she chuckled nervously and added, "Well, I didn't used to."

"It's intriguing that she's here; that's all. It made me instantly suspicious, but Blue Cat—the person I was just speaking to—is convinced she and her father are still allied with me and my brother. We'll know shortly, I suppose; he's asking Iris for help on our behalf."

"Why, um—" Lemon looked at Kit, watching as he struggled with the wrapper on a packet of chocolate cookies.

"Why is it intriguing? What's it got to do with Grando?"

"Well, Lemon," Gladia said with a sigh, "you're all connected, aren't you? There's one person in the middle of you, Grando, and Iris— Hector."" Hector?"

"Yes, according to Blue Cat, Iris is here at Kessler's Reach to keep an eye on him. Seems her father—a close ally of my brother's—is trying to recruit him."

"And…and Grando?"

"Let me worry about that side of things. Don't worry; none of this reflects poorly on you. Even if it did, we might not live to worry about it. Seems my second-cousin, Balus, has taken control of Maidensong and is working rather feverishly to kill anyone seen as a loyalist to me and Freddy. In other words, most of the crew."" Maidensong?"

"My ship. It's not a warship or anything, but…" Gladia clicked her tongue, shifting in her seat.

"Well, it represents most of my wealth and power. It'll take a long time for them to wrest full control from the ship's AI, though. She's loyal to me. No, they'll have to bring specialists in from orbit. I don't think Balus has anyone local. We've got some time." She nudged the seat in front of her, and the lady bodyguard—Vicki—turned.

"That's right, isn't it?"

"That's our latest, yes. We didn't know Balus was here, though—on Mars. Anyway, there's no record of his ship, so it's doubtful he has the kind of equipment and people he'd need to—""I know, I know. I just said that." Gladia looked at Lemon, frowning. For her part, Lemon had had enough of being in the dark, of having one thing after another sprung on her. She sat up a little straighter, pulling her shoulders back the way she did when she was meeting a client for the first time.

She put on her impassive mask, the one that said nothing was bothering her, and then she asked, "I don't understand. If your cousin is taking over your ship and trying to kill you, if he's attacked the rift in an attempt to kill your son, then why don't you contact the authorities? Why doesn't your brother's agent do it? Isn't your brother the head of the family? Why—""Well, well! She is more than just a pretty face our mysterious fighter grew attached to!" Gladia laughed, but it was a mirthless and bitter sound.

"I'm afraid things aren't as simple as all that, Lemon. My brother loves me, and his agent knows that. I'm sure he'll contact Loyal for me, but he's in the Jovian System, and he'd have to move mountains to reschedule one of the fold-enabled ships to come straight here. No, if he sends help, it'll be weeks in transit. Worse, though, is that every second that passes, Balus is spinning his lies."" Lies?"

"Yes. If you were to look at a news feed, you'd find that around the same time we came under attack, a story broke. It seems I'm working with separatist rebels—me and my son. Why, wouldn't you know? We've conspired to destroy the rift, though naturally we failed in that endeavor, and Freddy got himself killed in the process." Lemon felt her stomach sink. Did this mean the law was going to be against them—the Empire? If the head of House Ventress might not be able to help his sister, then who could?

"But…" She locked eyes with Gladia, staring into her golden irises.

"But that's not true, right?"

"Well, like all effective lies, dear, there's some truth mixed in. I am working with rebels, though we had nothing to do with the rift attack. Unfortunately, if we don't get my ship back soon, Balus will find enough evidence to hang me—and my brother."