Tsar Wars: Agents of ISIS, Book 1 (11 page)

When the Velikaya Knyaghinya finally made it
all the way through the passenger tube to the terminal, a welcoming
committee had already gathered there to greet her. Graf Federico
himself was there, along with his wife and two of his four
children. So, of course, were the inevitable news crews to record
every public detail of this unprecedented visit.

Eva and the Velikaya Knyaghinya had each
dealt with reporters on many occasions, and knew exactly how to
behave. They kept themselves aloof and focused on what they were
doing, ignoring the cameras and the questions being constantly
shouted out by the ravenous media. Lien-Hua stayed reasonably
together as well, but the Three
Shicksehs
seemed
overwhelmed. They smiled and posed for the cameras, pushing one
another out of the way to be as close to Natalia as possible. They
seemed convinced, somehow, that the cameras and the interest were
all for them, and would have embarrassed themselves accordingly if
they’d been capable of embarrassment.

Federico and his wife were all smiles, but
the smiles didn’t reach as high as their eyes, which remained
diplomatically cool. The graf made the obligatory speech welcoming
Natalia to Languor, saying all door were open to her and that he
was privileged to throw a banquet tonight in her honor at his
palace. Even though she was young, Natalia knew how to deliver an
equally platitudinous speech thanking the graf for his many years
of loyal service to the crown and saying she was quite eager to
tour Languor and meet her subjects.

Speeches completed, the parties climbed into
a long line of limousines for the drive to Federico’s estate. Col.
Groenwald took the opportunity to tell the freiliny to stay extra
close to the Velikaya Knyaghinya during their stay here. Two nights
ago there had been a separatist riot in the local town, which
authorities had let run its course. Last night, a second riot had
been brutally squashed by local militsia and oprichniki. Everyone
was on edge, not knowing what would happen tonight with the
Velikaya Knyaghinya actually present, but everyone had to be
prepared for anything.

Surprisingly, Eva wasn’t overly worried about
simple riots. Natalia would be spending her entire visit staying in
palaces and noble homes, places that riots seldom touched. The
official ISIS team was prepared to handle those contingencies. A
bigger worry would be treachery from within the local dvoryane,
perhaps an assassination attempt. But it was unlikely that any of
the local dvoryane would stick their necks out that far. The whole
plan was being disguised far more subtly than that, so Eva was on
the lookout for far more subtle dangers.

The banquet that night was the sort of affair
Eva’d only read about in books. The huge dining hall was crammed
with as many of Languor’s dvoryane as it could handle, and the food
was … well, fit for a tsar. Course after course was served by an
army of courtiers, highlighting many different regional foods and
recipes from all over Languor. Eva made up her mind to be born a
Velikaya Knyaghinya in her next life.

That night was uneventful, and the next
morning the entourage was flown halfway across the continent to a
big industrial city, where the local kuptsy had chosen, for reasons
known only to themselves, to give the Velikaya Knyaghinya a tour of
a water reclamation plant. Eva was sure Natalia would be as bored
with this as she was with math, but the fourteen-year-old had been
raised with the proper sense of noblesse oblige. This was something
important to the subjects she would one day rule, and so it had to
be important to her as well. Never once did the young girl’s face
display the slightest impatience, and she asked her guides
intelligent questions about the processes they showed her. This, in
turn, made her hosts beam with pride that the future tsaritsa
showed an interest in their affairs.

As a sort of star herself, though not of the
Velikaya Knyaghinya’s magnitude, Eva had been on a few similar
tours, and knew how to display polite interest. The other freiliny,
however, were bored silly and took few pains to hide their
feelings. Fortunately, no one paid them the slightest bit of
attention.

They spent the night at the estate of a local
boyarin. And again they dined so sumptuously that Eva started
worrying that she might gain too much weight on this assignment to
resume her dancing career. Normally she would work off the large
meals with plenty of sex and plenty of exercise, but she had
neither the time nor the opportunity for either.

The third day was mostly a repeat of the
second, with an early morning flight to another continent, a visit
to a dairy farm and sightseeing at some spectacular mountain
scenery, followed by yet another banquet from an obsequious
host.

After dinner it was Eva’s duty to prepare the
Velikaya Knyaghinya’s wardrobe for the next day. She was in the
closet when Natalia and Col. Groenwald came into the bedroom.
Proper behavior for a freilina would have been to announce her
presence and leave the room. Instead, Eva buried herself more
deeply in the closet. After all, she reasoned, it’s a spy’s job to
eavesdrop.

“Now, what’s this about?” Natalia asked the
colonel.

“I’m afraid I have the sad duty to report
that your great-uncle, Tsar Vasiliy, is dead. As of this moment,
you are now tsaritsa.” As he said that, he went down on one knee in
homage.

There was a very long silence, well over a
minute. Eva couldn’t see the girl’s face from where she was
hiding—but she remembered the deep sadness she’d seen in those eyes
when she first met her. How much sadder, and how much more fearful,
would they be now?

When Natalia did speak, her voice was
slightly shaky. “How did it happen?”

“Much as we always feared, Your High … Your
Majesty. He passed quietly in his sleep. He never recovered.”

Eva could hear a rustle as the new tsaritsa
sat down in a chair. “Has there been any public announcement?”

“I don’t know. I was notified quietly, but it
will be impossible to keep this news secret for very long.”

“What’s our next step, then?”

“The Sovyet Knyazey will undoubtedly request
we return to Earth immediately to ensure security. I’ve already got
my aides making arrangements to fly us back to Languor City as soon
as you’re ready.”

“Thank you, colonel. I’d like to be alone for
just a few minutes, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” he said, and Eva
could hear the door close behind him.

She heard the young girl walk over and
suddenly fling herself on the bed, and then began sobbing. Eva’s
heart almost broke as she listened to Natalia’s sobs. She wanted
nothing more than to run out of the closet and put her arms around
the girl and comfort her. But she couldn’t do that. Natalia would
be mortified to learn that some comparative stranger had witnessed
her outburst, and Eva would have some uncomfortable questions to
answer.

She was afraid she might be stuck in the
closet a long time, but after ten minutes of hard crying Natalia
sniffed back her tears and went into the adjoining bathroom to wash
away all trace of her emotions. This gave Eva a chance to slip
discreetly out of the room unnoticed.

Outside, everything was controlled chaos. The
order to pack up had been given, and everyone was scrambling about
wildly trying to decide what must be taken and what could be
abandoned. Eva went directly to the rooms she shared with the other
freiliny. As a performer with a traveling troupe she had packing
down to a simple science, and was ready to go in just a couple of
minutes. She offered to help the other ladies, but they shooed her
away, so she went out to see what else she could do.

Just a few minutes later, Natalia called for
her entourage to assemble so she could address them together. She
appeared before them in black mourning clothes, which were always
part of her wardrobe. Her bearing was rigid, her face composed;
there was no trace of the crying teenager of just a few minutes
earlier. This was what her entire life had been leading up to, and
as much as a teenage girl could she looked every bit the
tsaritsa.

“Some of you may have guessed by our rapid
change of plans that something dramatic has happened. I’m sad to
report that my great-uncle, Tsar Vasiliy, has died, and I am being
called back to Earth to become tsaritsa. In what moments you can
spare in the next hectic few hours, please say a prayer for the
tsar’s soul, and another for the safety of the Empire during this
period of sadness. I want to thank you all for the loyal service
you have given me in the past, and I hope I can count on your
continued excellent work in the troubled times that lie ahead. Da
zdravstvuyet Imperiya!”

“Da zdravstvuyet Imperiya!” echoed the people
in the room. A few people added on their own, “Da zdravstvuyet
tsaritsa!” Natalia pretended not to hear that.

As the new tsaritsa started back to her room,
Eva fell into step behind her. Natalia looked back quizzically, and
Eva said, “I’m a very good packer, Your Majesty.” Natalia simply
nodded and continued silently on.

They packed the tsaritsa’s room in silenced,
Eva handling the clothes in a blur of efficiency and Natalia
packing the jewelry, which the freiliny had never been allowed to
touch. The young girl moved slowly and fastidiously, as though in a
dream, showing not a trace of the emotions Eva knew must be boiling
inside her.

In short order they were ready to depart. A
fleet of huvvers had been summoned to whisk them the thousands of
kilometers back to Languor Field and the waiting
Argosy
. Eva
wasn’t in the tsaritsa’s huvver, but her thoughts were never far
away from the young ruler’s side.

During the four-hour flight through the dark
night they monitored the news from the ground. As they’d all
expected, word of the tsar’s death was already spreading throughout
the Empire—and as Eva, at least, had feared, news was filtering in
about riots spreading right here on Languor.
This was the
trigger,
she thought.
Kuznyetz and his tovarishchi certainly
wasted no time getting the game going. I wonder if they had a hand
in the tsar’s death as well.

It was easy to spot Languor Field as they
approached. Any major spaceport was well-lit at any hour, but this
one was also circled by a ring of fires set by the rioters. The
regular spaceport security force was being overwhelmed—and Graf
Federico’s militsia were nowhere to be seen. Col. Groenwald was
certain to have called for their assistance; the fact they weren’t
here by now was an indictment of Federico’s complicity in the
plot.

As their huvvers came down by the terminal,
Eva could see the
Argosy
standing out on the field by
itself, away from all other ships. She knew instantly what the real
danger was, and knew she had to prevent it. As the passengers left
the huvvers and poured rapidly into the terminal, she looked wildly
around for Col. Groenwald to warn him of the danger.

All was chaos as people scrambled to get into
the passenger tubes and handlers rushed to get all the baggage
loaded. Eva spotted Col. Groenwald in the middle of the floor,
trying to direct traffic and keep his men focused. She struggled
through the crowd and eventually reached his side.

“Don’t put the tsaritsa on the ship!” she
told him, having to yell to make herself heard above the crowd’s
roar. “It’s a trap!”

“Just get on board,” he said, trying to
ignore her advice. “The ship is the safest place for us.”

“Look at it out there all by itself,” Eva
insisted, waving her arm to indicate the sight through the
terminal’s windows. You might as well have painted a big bull’s-eye
around it.”

“
Argosy
has enough firepower to handle
rioters.”

“This was all planned! Right now they’re
bringing in howitzers or who knows what to blow the ship
apart.”

“The ship’s shields—”

“They’re useless on the ground. They only
work in space.”

Groenwald glared at her. “I don’t have time
to argue military tactics with an empty-headed gornichnaya.” He
tried to brush her aside.

Zionians don’t brush aside easily. Eva stood
her ground. “Nkosi Wettig sent me here specifically to bodyguard
the tsaritsa.”

Groenwald paused, but only for a second.
“Wettig’s not in charge of ISIS. And if he were here he’d tell you
we have well-thought-out protocols for situations like this.” And
he turned away from her.

Cursing under her breath, Eva realized she’d
never get anywhere arguing with a
schmuck
like this. She’d
have to take matters into her own hands—and quickly, before the
rebels decided the ship was fully loaded and ready for
demolition.

She bounded toward the passenger tubeway at
full Zionian speed, startling the people around her and pushing
anyone aside who got in her way. The underground tube had a moving
walkway and was just slightly wider than two people standing
abreast. Most people just stood in place, letting the walkway do
the work. Eva couldn’t spare the time.

“Gangway! Coming through!” she shouted, but
most people couldn’t move out of her way fast enough. She brushed
people aside like rag dolls in her haste to get aboard ship and
find the tsaritsa. She could vaguely hear people muttering insults
behind her. She didn’t care.

She reached the ship and made her way quickly
up to the imperial cabins. As she’d hoped, Natalia had already
arrived there and was starting to settle in. “Come on,” Eva said.
“We’ve got to go. Now!”

The tsaritsa was startled. “What’s the
meaning of this?”

“The meaning of this is to save your life.
This ship is a death trap.” She reached out and grabbed the girl’s
hand, pulling her closer.

Natalia tried to pull her hand away, but she
couldn’t break Eva’s tight grip. “How dare you lay hands on me?”
she said—half-haughtily, half-fearfully.