Empress Game: The Empress Game Trilogy Book 1 (7 page)

Kayla fished the instruments from her pack and quickly realigned the allowable IDs. Satisfied the doors would only open for her—verified by a print scan—and that her fix wouldn’t be as easily undone as the original programming, she snapped the faceplate back into place. Now she felt slightly more at ease leaving Corinth alone on a ship crawling with IDC agents.

Only very slightly.

She unfolded the complink console unit from the wall and typed Corinth a brief message. He’d had nothing more sophisticated to play with than the glorified abacus they’d rigged together. The complink unit, even with limited access to the imperial data field, would keep Corinth amused until she returned.

The minute she stepped out of her room the doors directly across from hers opened. Malkor filled the space, hands crossed over his chest.

“Going somewhere?”

He’d abandoned the illegal merch-runner outfit and looked at ease in what must be his IDC casuals: boots and loose black pants topped with a gray T-shirt. Pity. The merch-runner getup suited him.

“Looking for you.”

He seemed skeptical.

“Are we going to chat in the hallway, or…?”

He pivoted on one foot, allowing her access to his quarters. Kayla slipped past him, tucking her arm in close to avoid touching him as she did.

“I’d ask if you want me to keep my door open,” he gestured with a thumb toward her closed doors, “but I doubt you left your brother in there without rigging something first.” Even still, he left his stance open and took a seat at his desk. “What should I call him?”

Kayla hadn’t considered that. Corinth rarely left the swamp so he’d never needed an alias.

“Rinth.” The word slipped out. Vayne had called their younger brother that.

“Rinth.” Even as Malkor tried out the name, Kayla heard Vayne saying it and the familiar pang hit her chest. “And I can call you…?”

She gave him a flat look.

“Figured I’d ask one more time. Shadow Panthe is a bit much for everyday conversation, so we’ll use your alias.” He called up a file on his complink. It was no standard imperial citizen ID. She would be Lady Evelyn Broch, cousin to the ruling family on Piran—one of the Sovereign Planets, the six planets that had comprised the Sakien Empire at its inception. Other than the gray box where her picture would go, the ID looked complete.

“Lady Evelyn it is,” he said. “We’ll have to finalize it today so I can send the packet to IDC headquarters.” His gaze took in the
ashk
that shielded her face, her rough tunic and serviceable, if drab, pants. “I’ll also find something more appropriate for you to wear.”

A flush crept up her neck. Urban vagrants didn’t dress this poorly on Ordoch, and the needy were given cast-offs of higher quality than the clothing she and Corinth owned. Nothing like scrounging on the slum side for five years to really lower her standards.

“The same goes for Rinth. He’ll need an ID badge if he’s going to move about on Falanar.”

Kayla shook her head. “I don’t want him on the planet.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to be away from him. He could stay on the ship, I suppose. It’ll be in orbit at the royal space dock.”

Damnit. Neither option suited her. She didn’t want to be separated from Corinth by kilometers of atmosphere, but they increased their risk of discovery ten-fold by being seen together.

“Let me think about it,” she said.

“I could have one of my team watch him.”

“Having an IDC agent oversee my brother’s care doesn’t give me a warm, fuzzy feeling.”

Malkor frowned. “You’re the one who insisted I bring him.”

She paced away from the console, hands resting on the hilts of her kris. Same frustration, different day—how to keep her
il’haar
safe while doing what needed to be done to get them home.

“Lady Evelyn? Evelyn.”

It took Kayla a minute to realize Malkor meant her. “What?”

His gaze dropped to her hands, now curled around the hilts of her kris. “Can I trust you loose on the ship, armed, without escort?”

“You mean, was I planning to assassinate one or several of the high-ranking guests on board?”

“Don’t start with me, Shadow. Evelyn,” he corrected. “Do I need to keep you under guard?”

“You could try, but I doubt they’d fare very well.”

One touch on his complink and his doors hissed closed like the jaws of a hungry beast. Kayla forced herself not to react to the implied imprisonment. She released her grip on her daggers, though it went against the grain, and lowered herself into the nearest chair.

“I made a deal with you on Altair Tri,” she said. “My participation in your mad scheme in exchange for a cargo-hold’s worth of credits and a free ride to the planet of my choosing. I don’t intend to break our deal.” At least, not until a better option presented itself. “And I’m not about to harm anyone on board… unless it becomes necessary.” Let him eat that.

“Your word?”

It was on her tongue to ask what the word of a pit whore was worth to an IDC agent, but his tone halted the sarcasm. For the first time since the massacre of her family someone offered to value whatever honor she possessed. Her much-abused pride refused to make a mockery of even so small a moment.

“You have it.”

He touched the panel again and the doors slid open.

“Now that that’s out of the way, what did you want to discuss?”

W
hat was with the ashk? Malkor wondered. They were common on Altair Tri but it was hardly effective camouflage now that she was the only person wearing one.

“Tell me how you plan to pull off this ridiculous scheme of yours,” she said.

Shadow—
Lady Evelyn
, he had to start thinking of her that way—perched on the edge of her chair. She didn’t seem at ease, but he doubted she ever seemed at ease, even in that filthy hovel she’d called a home.

“I’ve set you up as a noble from Piran, Isonde’s homeworld. You’re her political ally, old friend and attendant for the Empress Game. We want it to seem natural for you to go everywhere Isonde does. The attendant is the only one allowed access to the pit with the contestants.”

He lifted a canister from his desk and tipped the contents into his palm: a thin, flexible bioelectric strip about the width and length of his index finger. Rigger had dropped the prototype off less than an hour ago—still a work in progress. “We’re counting on a high-quality hologram to allow you and Isonde to switch places for the actual fighting.”

Shadow scrutinized the biostrip, and even without seeing the rest of her features he sensed her hesitation. He placed the strip across the base of his throat and it stuck there. It felt warm at first, while the organic membrane adhered to the skin, then nothing.

He glanced down. Sure enough, Isonde sat in his place, wearing his IDC casuals. He knew too well the shape of her, by sight and feel, not to recognize her form.

“Very pretty,” Shadow murmured dryly.

“Rigger is good.” The words came out in Isonde’s alto timbre. “Very good.” Malkor had heard her voice a million times, recognized every nuance of her tone. Rigger’s voice replicant program matched perfectly.

Kayla rose and approached. “That hologram will fool everyone at a distance and most people up close, especially since the princess and I are very similar in size.” She lifted her arm but paused with her fingers outstretched. The hesitation lasted only a moment, then she placed her hand on his shoulder. Heat radiated from her palm and fingers where they curled lightly over him. He glanced at her hand, resting on the empty air ten centimeters above the image of Isonde’s shoulder.

“It would be less pronounced on me, but I am still a hair taller than the princess. Any fighter skilled enough to compete in the Empress Game will notice that. Or this.” She moved her hand to just above Isonde’s elbow, landing on his actual forearm. She angled her fingers to slide beneath the sleeve of his T-shirt but the fabric remained undisturbed as she passed through it.

She snorted. “Apparently Rigger isn’t that good. Clothing often gets rearranged in a fight. One match in this hologram and we’d be finished.”

Malkor peeled the strip from his neck, breaking the illusion, and she backed away.

“Obviously it’s not finished yet,” he said.

“I hope not. Assuming you have top-level technology at your disposal, I recommend a multi-layer, stress-reactive, integrated living matter replicant.”

He could only stare. Of course he knew what she meant, but never in a hundred light-years had he expected those words to come out of her mouth. His suspicion that there was more to this pit whore than a love of kris daggers was irrevocably confirmed.

“Who are you, really?”

“Apparently I’m Lady Evelyn Broch, of the Sovereign Planet Piran.”

She had to have sky-high clearance to have experience with that kind of tech. A deep-cover spy? “Where were you before the Blood Pit?”

“None of your damn business. I agreed to help your princess win the Empress Game, not answer all of your questions.” She put her hands on her hips. “What other security measures are there? It can’t be as easy as a hologram or every princess would have her own body-double.”

“No, the hologram is only one part of it. Each contestant is both routinely and randomly scanned to confirm their ID. The scan consists of a palm-print analysis, retinal scan and DNA verification.”

“Before and after each fight?”

He nodded. “And randomly, any time day or night, at the IDC’s discretion.”

“The IDC is in charge of the Game?”

“Being the diplomatic arm of the imperial government, we have the most experience with each of the contestants. The IDC is responsible for ensuring the Game’s validity by confirming entrant IDs.”

“The scan before the fight would be easy enough to defeat,” she said. “A biofilm composed of the princess’s DNA and stamped with her handprint would work.”

“The IDC will be looking for just such a thing. Anything thick enough to prevent your DNA from contaminating the palm-print would be noticed.”

“Depends what it’s made out of,” she said offhand, as though her mind were absorbed by another problem. “Certain synthetic polymer combinations are virtually undetectable.” She shook her head. “That wouldn’t solve the problem of the scan after the match, though. Those polymers dissolve within thirty minutes of skin contact and there’s no telling how soon before the fight you’d have to apply it.”

He’d never heard of such technology, and if the IDC wasn’t employing it he wasn’t sure it existed. Although, the criminal element within the empire was always on the cutting edge of ID hijacking…

“Our plan for the print scan is more long term,” he said. “Once you’ve been initially identified as Lady Evelyn, Rigger will access your file and set up a looping pathway between yours and Princess Isonde’s IDs that will temporarily switch your DNA, retinal and print information whenever the pathway is activated.”

“Activated how?”

“By applying the biostrip hologram. The IDs switch back when you remove it.”

She nodded, apparently approving that part of the plan. “At least you’ve thought this out. Why am I not surprised that an IDC agent has a plan to fix the very game he’s supposed to be keeping cheat-free?” She glanced toward the closed door that led to her quarters, formerly Hekkar’s room. “I should go, my brother will likely wake soon. You’ll talk to Rigger about the new hologram?”

“She’ll be hearing plenty from me, don’t you worry.”

* * *

“She certainly showed you up, didn’t she?” Ardin said.

Malkor glanced at his long-time friend and future emperor, Prince Ardin de Soliqual. He had summarized his earlier meeting with Shadow Panthe for Ardin, who seemed rather amused by the entire hologram episode.

“You should offer her a position with the IDC, Malk. Fighting skills, advanced technical knowledge, thinks quick on her feet—she’d be an asset.”

Malkor frowned, recalling their earlier conversation. “There’s the small fact that she, in her words, ‘would never help the IDC achieve a goal, no matter how insignificant.’”

The prince sobered. “Can she be trusted? If our plan fails, the balance of power in the Council of Seven swings back to my father. Isonde’s life will be forfeit for her part in the deception. I—” Ardin halted, taking a deep breath. “That can’t happen. You must be absolutely certain.”

“I’m as certain as we’re going to get. Anyone who’s motivated by something
other
than a fervent desire to place the best empress on the throne is a liability,” Malkor said. “Shadow has much to gain by helping us, and she seems to have committed to the scheme. All we can do is wait and see.”

“That does not ease my mind.”

“If it helps, I trust her intention is to keep the deal.” For now. She had accepted his terms under duress. He was prepared for her loyalty to switch if a similar pressure was applied again.

“You, the ever-suspicious, oh-so-cautious Malkor trusts someone from Altair Tri’s slum side?” A speculative gleam came into Ardin’s eyes that Malkor didn’t appreciate. “I’ll have to meet this pit whore for myself.”

“Don’t call her that.”

Ardin arched a brow at Malkor’s tone.

“Her fighting skills are only part of the equation. We need to convince everyone that she’s Lady Evelyn, Isonde’s attendant, or it won’t matter how well she fights. Start treating her that way now so it’s more natural when we arrive on Falanar.”

That and hearing someone else call Shadow a pit whore irritated him. She was more—he just had to figure out if that was a good or a bad thing.

“Fair enough, though you know Isonde won’t like it.”

Malkor shrugged. “She’ll get over it. I don’t know who she thought we were going to find for a body-double, Shadow Panthe was always our best bet. Same size and body shape, excellent fighting skills, anonymous outside of her own sphere on Altair Tri, and willing to risk everything for the right amount of credits.” That last wasn’t strictly true, which begged the question: why had she been hiding out in the Blood Pit?

“She’ll—” Ardin broke off when the door to his chambers opened. Even without looking Malkor knew who had arrived. The reverent expression on Ardin’s face said it all.