Financial Executor Rabi Gamble endured the ride from the MedCenter silently. The guards wouldn't speak to him. Neither would the transport driver. He didn't waste time wondering why he'd been kept in isolation and denied access to the streams and to his aides. Corona's caution was understandable. He was curious about who was in charge. He hoped they'd taken the same precautions with Jack. He was desperate for news of his only nephew.
Protocol dictated that the FE and his family were whisked to a safehouse in time of attack. Jack's apartment in the city center was three blocks from Corona Headquarters where the Riga attacks had concentrated. The devastation here chilled him to the bone. Buildings smoldered, civilian and military vehicles destroyed. Lives...how many lost? Blessed Colonists, let Jack be safe.
Gamble dreaded learning who amongst his associates worked for Riga. He had no doubt the traitorous rebels had friends in high places. The Riga invasion smacked of insider knowledge. Grand Emperor Surda's justice would be swift and merciless. The thought brought him grim satisfaction.
But if Jack had come to any harm...
The transport stopped in front of Corona Headquarters and an honor guard awaited him at the bottom of the massive stone stairs. It was always Surda's insistence that power and preeminence were on display. He hated the spectacle himself, but endured it, always remembering his father's humility. His older sister had been the same. But Jack... He'd done his best with his sister's boy after her untimely death, but Jack had been entirely too caught up in the pageantry. Gamble wondered if it was a cover for Jack's insecurities. They could talk hours on end about politics, military operations, flight training, university. But his personal life? Jack would draw into himself.
A guard opened the door and he climbed out of the vehicle. The very young captain in charge saluted him. "Welcome back, sir. If you would, please, follow me."
The foyer of the HQ reeked of smoke and ash, every wall scarred by blaster burns. It pained him to see the building services bots sifting through the burnt and splintered remains of the hand-carved desk that graced the entryway. Just beyond the foyer, a grand atrium rose five stories above the marbled floor. A makeshift checkpoint had been set up at its base. The atrium had not fared well during the takeover attempt either. Once lush vegetation lay wilted and scorched. Damaged balconies dangled menacingly like limbs of a weeping scarlet tree.
The honor guard filed off as the captain guided him to the south corridor, one of six spokes radiating from the atrium. At the end of the hall, Gamble reached for the touchpad to call for his private lift to the sixth floor office suite, but the captain intervened. "The codes have been changed, sir," he explained, stepping between Gamble and the pad to enter new access numbers.
"And?" Gamble said.
"Your permissions haven't been authorized by command...sir." The captain cleared his throat. "I'm sure it's just a matter of protocol, extra security. We can't take chances until the resistance is crushed."
Gamble exhaled slowly. The captain wasn't to blame, but he'd certainly have a word with command.
He stepped into the lift with the captain at his side. When the door opened on the sixth floor, he half-whispered, "Incredible." Not a scratch or blaster burn marred the area.
"The Riga vermin never occupied this floor," the captain said.
A very tall man stepped into the corridor from the executive suite, his face in shadows. "Well, that may not be entirely true," the vaguely familiar voice added. "We discovered an aide brutally murdered in his office in the early hours of the invasion. Someone must have gotten through."
Gamble narrowed his eyes as the man advanced. His hands trembled. "Norse?"
"Hello, Rabi," Norse replied smoothly. "It's been a long time."
"What in Mars' name is going on here?" Gamble felt his eyes burn. This man—his aide, a confidant, a friend—he had betrayed him, defected to the resistance. Hundreds, if not thousands, had been killed fighting against that rabble. Bastard. "What is this traitor—"
"Please, Rabi. We have a lot of catching up to do." Norse dismissed the captain with a nod and waved his hand toward the private dining room. "Come. Sit down."
Gamble straightened his shoulders, managing to still his hands. Seeing Norse was a dizzying blow, and it was all he could do to brush past the turncoat without reaching for his neck.
The oversized table was bare, but a smaller one by the windows had two plates set, two glasses of wine. They would be dining alone.
"This view has always been one of my favorites," Norse said and tapped the controls to open the shades, flooding the room with early evening light.
Like old times, Gamble thought. He could play this game, but wouldn't stand it for long. "I remember you insisted on having this table by the window when we dined together," he said.
"Can you blame me?" Norse asked, retrieving the drinks and offering him one.
"No."
The sky outside was ruddy red laced with pink as the sun disappeared behind the hills. Gamble rarely had time to enjoy this vantage point.
"Thank the Colonists the Riga didn't lay waste to our jewel," Norse said, studying the botanical gardens behind the HQ. It was a green oasis in the city center. "Look at the tendrils on the baziel trees. They are thicker this year and the trunk spikes longer. A harsh summer ahead."
"I have little interest in weather predictions, Ari," he said. "I can sit in my office and enjoy this illusion, but the reality is that my capital is in flames. Perhaps you will explain why a man who has been my enemy for nine years appears to be in charge of Corona forces on Torredo."
"You raised quite a few eyebrows when you brought me back after the murder charge was dismissed." Norse half smiled. He didn't look like he'd aged a day, not one gray hair and only a hint of lines around his eyes. And still as unpretentious as ever in the black fatigues that had been his trademark. "I don't remember if I ever thanked you for believing in me."
Gamble ran a hand through his silver hair. He had always suspected Norse had been set up, key evidence gone missing. He had supported him. "Your record spoke for itself. Years of loyal service. I might have handed you a job in my Cabinet. Then you destroyed my faith in you."
"You were strong, Rabi. You weathered the storm stirred by my defection to the resistance."
"That was only because my loudest detractors were recalled to Corona or transferred to other worlds." Gamble eyed Norse. He was the kind of person everyone expected to have a brilliant career because he earned it, not because it was handed to him. "I suppose you had something to do with that?"
Norse cocked his head to one side. "In a manner of speaking." He pointed toward their dinner. "Shall we sit? The ternak is getting cold." Without waiting for a reply, Norse made himself comfortable.
Hesitating a moment, Gamble stared past the gardens.
"He's not out there," Norse said evenly.
"He—? What?"
"Jack. He's not out there," Norse repeated.
"My nephew? How do you know that?" Colonists, his voice cracked. He couldn't show weakness, especially to Norse. "Is he at a safehouse?"
"Hardly." Norse took a sip of his wine. "Jack escaped on a small special forces transport. He works for the resistance."
Wha— Gamble couldn't breathe. Safe, dead—those were the only things he'd been prepared to hear about Jack. But this?
"One of their top operatives," Norse said.
Gamble picked up his wine and watched the light shimmer on the crystal. He felt relieved, angry, but tried to show neither. Of course, it made sense. Jack and Norse had been close at one time. Norse's defection to the resistance had sent Jack into a spiral. But somewhere in these last few years, Norse had reestablished that bond and convinced Jack to fight Corona. Why? Especially now that Norse was Corona. Had always been Corona.
"You trained him?"
"I did."
"Then he is beyond our reach and none of our concern." Gamble sniffed the wine's fragrant bouquet and took a sip.
"Good?" Norse asked, nodding toward the wine. "It's from your private stock. I didn't think you'd mind."
Gamble set the goblet down and drew a deep breath. Norse was a stubborn one, savvy yet cunning, charming the unsuspecting with polite conversation. He could outlast the man, but wasn't in the mood tonight. He took his knife, cut a small piece of the meat, and ate it.
"Delicious, isn't it," Norse said. "North country, you know. There is nothing to compare to the tenderest meats from Derre." Norse sampled a bite from his own plate, then must have taken his lack of response to mean they should get down to business. "I realize you must be wondering why we've kept you in isolation the last few days."
Gamble shook his head. "I'm not blind, Ari."
"Riga forces were a real threat until only hours ago," Norse said. "Even now we continue to find pockets of resistance in the hills. We wanted to ensure your safety."
Gamble laid his fork on the edge of his plate. "You felt there'd be some advantage if the resistance learned I'd been injured. With me out of commission we appear weaker to the enemy and hide our strengths. I suppose that might be true, but I know you. There must be some deeper purpose."
Norse seemed pleased. "It's a bit of a stretch, but yes, why not? The feigned withdrawal of our forces fooled them completely." He sampled the catewild salad on his plate. "They took the bait."
Gamble looked up slowly, his pulse quickening. "And my apparent injury is also bait. A trap for Jack. What in the Grand Emperor's name has my nephew done to deserve such attention? He's no different from any other member of the resistance."
"He is far more dangerous."
"Because you trained him?" He scoffed. "What an ego! Using Jack's loyalties to me to bring him back to Torredo. I thought there was honor among thieves."
"But you forget, Rabi, I am not a thief."
"You were just an agent working undercover for Corona. Working with my nephew and thousands of other rebels who had no idea you were planning to turn on them. That makes your actions palatable. I see."
"It took me years to cultivate their trust. Jack was a huge part of that. He's a danger to our way of life—"
"Wait. You mean your way— Colonists. You...and Jack. After Kaiden died, it was you." Jack wouldn't share his feelings with Gamble, but it had taken him a year to get past his grief when his lover had been killed. When Gamble asked to meet the man who'd brought him from that low, Jack had only said, Not yet, uncle. I'm happy. Just be happy for me. Norse had recruited Jack to the resistance and to his bed.
"I cared for him."
Gamble heard something in Norse's voice but the signal was lost in the heat of the moment. "Only as much as you could manipulate him," he spat. "And now he's no use to you."
Norse almost looked apologetic, a certain vulnerability in his eyes. But it was gone in an instant. "He knows details of operations here as well as you and I."
Gamble knew that was true. Jack had spent all his formative years with him—in the office, in his home. He loved the boy, and thought Jack felt the same. This betrayal—and that's what it was, even if Jack had been taken in by Norse—wasn't easy to swallow. Jack had access to the highest office in the land. He wouldn't be surprised if Jack had broken into his confidential files.
But what did it matter? The resistance was defeated. He might never forgive Jack, but he couldn't see him as a threat.
Gamble's mouth suddenly went dry. He sure as hell didn't want to see what Corona would do to Jack.
"The Riga may return someday with or without my nephew," he told Norse. "Instead of trying to trick Jack into returning to Torredo, I suggest we prepare our defenses for the next assault."
"Oh, but our defenses are already in place. That's the point." Norse set his fork down. "Whether Jack returns on his own or with an army at his back, we will be ready for him. Until then, you must remain in seclusion, or the trap falls apart."
Gamble felt his face flush. "You must be joking."
Norse shook his head. "I do not joke, Rabi." His voice was as icy as the look in his eyes. The corners of his mouth turned upward with just the slightest tight curl. "It's a pity I'll have to report to the Grand Emperor that we suspect you of collaborating with your treasonous nephew."
The door into the dining room flew open. Four guards appeared, weapons held at the ready.
Gamble stared at his old friend. "This is ludicrous!"
"Captain," Norse motioned to the officer in charge, "the FE is under arrest. Please escort him to the detention center."
"You can't do this!" Gamble exclaimed.
Norse turned away without another glance as the guards prodded him out of the room. Gamble knew the drinks, the meal, the whole friendly setting had been a charade. Norse had gotten exactly what he wanted, and he could do nothing to stop him.
The door shut behind them. Norse heard Gamble protesting until the lift left the sixth floor. He took another bite of his dinner and smiled. "Oh, yes. Yes, I can."