[05] Elite: Reclamation (44 page)

The light from the explosions and weapons fire unexpectedly faded away. Luko glanced at the rear-view display seeing the Imperial ships converging behind them. The Federation ships were further back, effectively blocked.

A shield.

‘I will say this for your Imperials,’ he said appraisingly, ‘they know their tactics.’

Kahina was looking forwards; the bulk of the station was close now.
Hiram’s Anchorage
looked dark and forbidding from this angle, unlit by the sun and hiding in Chione’s shadow.

She triggered the comm link.

‘
Hiram’s Anchorage,
this is Kahina Tijani Loren. I call to the slaves loyal to my father, Algreb Loren. Allow me to dock.’

The answer was prompt, but the voice sounded less than enthusiastic, almost worried, but it had a strong Imperial accent.

‘Most honoured daughter of Algreb, Kahina. Please proceed to the main docking bay.’ There was a pause. ‘We will meet you in the habitation ring.’

Static crackled and the communication cut off.
Hiram’s Anchorage
was close by. The
Bella Principessa
slowed as it approached.

Kahina looked at Luko, who was frowning.

‘Something wrong?’ she demanded.

‘They your people,’ he said mysteriously. ‘You tell me.’

‘I need their help.’

Luko nodded and turned the ship towards the gaping docking bay.

***

The massive blast doors sealed the docking bay from the outside. As they locked into place, the
Bella Principessa
was also being shepherded into position. Kahina and Luko left their ship behind and entered the airlock arrangement. It felt routine now. Kahina welcomed the feeling of weight as the lift mechanism dropped them into the habitation ring.

The doors snapped open and they both cautiously stepped out, weapons drawn. Luko had insisted they were armed.

Kahina cautiously looked across the habitation ring. It was strewn with debris, bits of ships, drive units, fuel scoop convertors, cargo bay extensions, shield generators and all sort of associated junk from ships both large and small. Around the ring was all manner of discarded machinery, all broken down, some half dismantled. There was no sign of life.

‘They said they would meet us here,’ she said, looking around the gently curving floor.

The entire habitation area was a mess, cargo pods and ship parts were spread around in a haphazard manner. The floor was covered with discarded consoles, conduits, bolts, ripped and torn sections of hull plating. Here and there were puddles of grease or leaked coolant, or other even less salubrious fluids. Kahina sidestepped them, trying to stay clear. Everything was grimy, covered in grease. Even the air felt polluted, with a strong whiff of unidentified fumes. The dim illumination showed the air was full of dust.

‘There has been a fight,’ Luko muttered.

Kahina could feel her palms getting sweaty. She closed her fingers tighter, she didn’t want to drop her gun. It felt thick and heavy in her hand.

Luko stepped up beside her, walking backwards, his own gun pointing back the way they had come. There was no sign of anyone.

‘Perhaps they are delayed …’ Luko offered.

‘Until further notice, I’m afraid.’

The snapping sound of handheld weapons priming to fire reached their ears. Smartly attired guards appeared from behind the ruined consoles, packing crates, storage lockers and cargo canisters. Each held a gun on them. There were at least half a dozen they could see and doubtless many more they could not.

Kahina and Luko lowered their weapons; they were hopelessly out numbered. Two of the guards quickly disarmed them and hurried back out of the way.

The voice had come from ahead of Kahina. She squinted into the gloom as a figure walked towards her. The voice was lighter than she’d expected, the sound of sharply clicking heels echoed on the metallic floor. Kahina could see shiny boots sparkling in the darkness long before the figure strode into the light.

Each footstep was carefully placed in front of the next, a purposeful but stylish gait; hips swinging. It was a woman.

She stepped into the light. The woman had a tall imposing frame, an athletic build framed by a dramatic gown with gold highlights. Blonde hair framed a strong face with a pair of bright but fierce eyes.

The gown barely hid a trim but voluptuous figure. She wore a curiously bulky gun, loosely held in a belt at her side. Next to it Kahina could see a sabre buckled in a thin scabbard.

‘Who is this?’ Luko whispered.

Kahina shook her head briefly. ‘I don’t know.’

The woman strode up to her, staring directly into her eyes. She was considerably taller than Kahina. Kahina had to strain her neck to return her gaze.

The woman slowly walked around her, before returning to face Kahina again.

‘It seems impossible that you don’t know me,’ the woman said. ‘Yet I suppose we have never met … whilst you were conscious anyway.’

Kahina frowned, ‘Who are you?’

The woman ignored her. ‘But I know you well, Kahina Loren. So young …’

‘Then it is rude to keep me at a disadvantage,’ Kahina replied.

The woman smiled, ‘Perhaps you have heard of me. My name is Octavia Quinton.’

Kahina’s eyes widened in recognition. She heard Luko gasp beside her.

‘Oh merda,’ he muttered.

‘And who are you?’ Octavia asked, reluctantly turning her attention to him.

Luko had to look up even more than Kahina. ‘I? I am just a simple trader …’

‘Are you indeed?’ Octavia slid her gaze away from him with disinterest, focusing back on Kahina. ‘You’ve led us a merry dance across this sector, young lady.’

‘My name is Kahina.’

‘Kahina Loren,’ Octavia laid a hand on Kahina’s shoulder, possessively. ‘Daughter of the late Senator Algreb Loren, third of three daughters, all sadly no longer with us.’

‘Why should you take an interest in me?’ Kahina’s stepped aside, shrugging Octavia’s hand off her shoulder. She recalled a conversation with Hassan from days before. ‘You wanted me, why?’

‘I take an interest in all persons of influence in my territory,’ Octavia replied easily, ‘and I want you for what you can do for me. An Imperial Senator has influence that would benefit me greatly; favourable trade considerations and so on. There is much you might do on my behalf.’

‘And why should I help you?’

‘A mutually beneficial arrangement. You wish to reclaim your moon, I could help you with that.’

‘What have you done with my slaves?’ Kahina demanded.

Octavia chuckled. ‘Your slaves? This system is mine, little one, for now at least.’

‘It belonged to my father, the Senator. Now it belongs to me.’

‘You are dead, don’t you remember being killed?’ Octavia toyed with her. ‘Dispatched by the Reclamists. So tragic to lose your life so young.’

‘I am not dead!’

‘No, you’re not.’

Kahina started at the sound of another voice. A shiver ran down her spine, sending the hairs on the back of her neck tingling with fear, anticipation and cold vengeance.

That voice.

A sword, a stance, a shadow. She swallowed and felt her sweat chill across her from head to foot.

A second figure emerged from the gloom, taller even than Octavia. Bald headed and dressed in a trademark dark trench coat unbuckled at the waist. Even Luko recoiled slightly.

Kahina gasped, her lip curling in rage. She spat out her next words.

‘Dalk Torgen.’

***

Kahina lurched forward, but Luko grabbed her shoulder before she could be knocked back by the two guards who stepped towards her, guns raised.

‘Let me go.’

‘Now is not the time,’ Luko whispered in her ear.

‘He killed my family, he killed me.’

Rage clouded her vision, she wanted to grab Octavia’s sword, pull it out and run Dalk through … no, slice and rip his skin, batter him to a pulp and only then end his life when he begged for mercy. Blood, guts … she would dismember him in front of his own eyes, slice him up piece by piece. She could almost feel her hand upon the sword hilt, turning, twisting … striking.

His voice brought her back to the present with a jolt.

‘I did not kill your family.’

‘How dare you …’ Kahina struggled for words, ‘… even speak of them. I was there, you were one of the Reclamists! You murdered them. I saw it all.’

Dalk straightened and took a step towards her.

‘Come no closer, traitor.’ Kahina wrestled her shoulder out of Luko’s grasp.

‘Signorina, no.’

Dalk slowly drew his own sword and held it towards her, point first. She stared down the length of the ornate blade for a moment.

‘Finishing what you started?’ she asked, refusing to be cowed.

‘You would not be standing there if I had intended for you to die,’ Dalk answered. ‘Think Kahina. You were restored, brought back to life at huge expense. Yes, the plan went awry …’

‘You killed my family!’ Kahina said, her voice almost a scream.

‘They were already dead.’ Dalk shouted back, cutting across her, his voice echoing around the empty desolate chamber.

Kahina shook her head. ‘No. What madness is this?’

As she watched cautiously, Dalk lowered his sword and turned aside, striding a few paces away before turning back to her. His coat billowed outwards briefly with the move. ‘Politics within the Empire had already turned against your father. His treatment of the slaves, the executions in the city piazza? These were the tipping point. I had already dealt with several Imperial assassins intent on ending his life.’

‘You betrayed him. You didn’t defend him ...’

‘You’re wrong. At first I did, but it became clear that the situation was untenable. Your father became mentally unfit to rule. The Reclamists became a threat because of his draconian policies of suppression – yes, his fault. His madness fanned their flames. The Empire determined he could not be allowed to remain in power, the Tantalum was too valuable. From that point his fate was sealed. It was simply a matter of how … and when.’

‘This is lies …’

‘Why do you think I trained you, Kahina?’ She stepped back as Dalk raised his voice still further, advancing towards her. ‘Why spend all that time with the least favoured daughter of a failing Senator? Why other than to prepare you for becoming the Senator of the Prism system? Your sisters were useless; facile and vacuous. You alone had the intellect, the resolve and the cunning. Your right could not be questioned. Your claim was legal and all parties would recognise it. There would be peace …’

‘Peace? You killed him, murdered him and my mother … my sisters.’ Kahina shook with the effort of forcing back tears. She refused to cry.

‘Your father was advised of the danger to himself and his family. He ignored the warnings. I infiltrated the Reclamists … became trusted by them, yes!’ Dalk waved his arm. ‘But only to protect the single member of the family who could possibly continue the line. I could not save your family, but I could save you!’

Can he possibly be telling the truth?

‘You were one of them, you’re no loyal Imperial,’ she returned. ‘You hated my father. You betrayed me. You ran me through with a sword!’

‘An act, Kahina!’

‘An act?’ she cried out in incredulity.

‘Yes, an act! The Reclamists had to be convinced of your death. It was the only way we could safely remove you from the system. You were to be restored and safely kept until conditions were right for your return. I arranged for the medical transport, the convoy and your evacuation. The Reclamists believed they had won.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘Then why am I not killing you now?’ Dalk placed his hands on his hips and regarded her. ‘I want you to reclaim Chione. That was always my intention.’

Kahina’s mouth twisted in a sneer. ‘How can I trust you, Dalk Torgen? You scheme and lie! You put me through hell for your machinations. I was abandoned, alone and lost because of you.’

‘No, that was my doing.’ Octavia said, her voice gentle and reassuring after Dalk’s directness and ferocity. She stepped forward to stand beside him. ‘A juicy selection of technology such as that used by Dalk proved too tempting. It was I who decided to appropriate your ship.’

Kahina scowled at her and swiftly turned her attention back to Dalk.

Dalk gestured briefly with his right hand and another figure was pulled out of the shadows by two of the guards.

Kahina looked at him in surprise. It was the youth she’d stolen the ship from – Hassan. She felt a pang of guilt and shame. He was in a bad way, his face battered and bruised. His hands were crudely bandaged. She wondered what had happened to him after she’d abandoned him to Dalk. The guards shoved him forwards.

‘Hassan?’ Kahina asked. Hassan didn’t say anything, but briefly looked up at her.

‘You can blame him for your trials. He was the one who stole you and led us a merry chase across the sector. Octavia stole you from me, Hassan stole you from Octavia. You were brought back to consciousness in an improper fashion. Your memories damaged and fragmented. That was never the intention, none of it.’

‘You played me, Dalk,’ Kahina said. ‘Played me like a piece in a game of chance.’

‘And what was the alternative?’ Dalk said, his voice uncharacteristically angry. ‘Millions of people depend on Chione for their livelihoods. The Empire had already determined your father had to go. Other Senators were looking greedily at this system, dreaming up their own plans for expansion and annexation. Would you have let them take over?’

‘They wouldn’t dare annex …’

‘Plans were already in motion. What would your life have been then, Kahina? Least favoured daughter of a disgraced Senator? Perhaps you’d just quietly disappear? Does life as a slave on Achenar appeal? Patron Gerrun has a taste for classy whores so it is said, perhaps you could apply? Or perhaps you’d enjoy being paraded through the Federation as an example of hubris and Imperial pride after a fall?’

Kahina shuddered.

‘You think this was my plan alone?’ Dalk continued. ‘The Empire is interested in stability and commerce, Kahina. Remember your lessons, you know this! The fate of the Loren family line reached even to the echelons of the Duvals. Your father was dead from the moment he came to their attention. What could we Patrons do against such might? You were the only alternative. It was that or hand the Prism system to another family.’