The Dauntless: Star Legend, #5

Part One

One

Taylan hated herself for what she was about to do but she had no choice.

She checked herself over for a final time. She’d discarded the fortune-teller’s garb she’d been wearing for weeks with relief. She’d hated dressing up like a fairground display. Now the Britannic Alliance had retaken its homeland, she was back to plainer clothes as well as boots and a warm coat—essential requirements at this time of year in West BI. She’d also cut her hair.

Her clothes were second hand and worn. She hadn’t wanted to spend her remaining funds on anything fancier. She hoped she didn’t look too shabby for the receptionist to take her seriously.

A stiff wind blew in from the sea as she walked along the harbor front, undoing her previous efforts at combing her hair. The sea was unusually rough. Waves crashed into the walls and spilled onto the promenade. She dodged the tongues of water that reached across her path.

As she arrived at the West BI Parliament, her heart was beating fast, though not due to exertion. She had to succeed today. Her children’s lives could depend on it.

The building’s gigantic roof extended over the broad walkway, slowly undulating, mimicking the movement of the ocean it faced. Wide steps rose up to the glass-fronted entrance. She had known about this place all her life but she’d never been here before. She’d never imagined she would have a reason to visit it.

Taking a deep breath, she mounted the steps.

At their top stood four security checkpoints. She picked one and walked through the archway. No alarms sounded. She emerged into the lobby.

Parliament was busy, unsurprisingly. The Britannic Isles had been in turmoil since Kala Orr had been forced to give up control of the country. The BI government had returned to its seat in London and begun issuing laws and regulations like they were going out of fashion, while at the same time repealing nearly everything Orr had put in place. But compliance among the Crusaders was patchy at best. There were regular protest marches and disturbances. Fighting and looting had become commonplace. From the conversations she’d overheard, most of Orr’s followers were deeply skeptical of what they were being told. They didn’t believe their Dwyr had married Arthur and handed the reins of power to the former government. They suspected she was being coerced.

In the time Taylan had lived in Crusader society, her estimation of them had sunk low. Their beliefs were bizarre and they were gullible to a ridiculous level. But she had to give them credit when it came to their understanding of the current situation. They were absolutely right.

Navigating the crowd, she approached the reception desk. The shortest line was five people deep. She waited impatiently for her turn.

When it came, the receptionist looked her up and down before saying, Yes?

The woman greeted every other visitor before Taylan with a Good morning sir/madam. How can I help you?

Self-consciously, Taylan smoothed her hair. I’d like to speak to Mr Jonte.

The receptionist’s lip curled. I’m afraid that won’t be possible. What did you want to speak to him about? The government has several help pages on its website. I can point you to the right one.

I don’t need the government’s help. This is a personal matter between Mr Jonte and me.

If you know him personally, then I’m sure you can discuss your business with him on your own time. The receptionist leaned over to address the person behind Taylan. Next, please.

She stepped to one side to block the woman’s view. I can’t speak to him outside his office hours, she blurted. I’ve tried.

She really had. She done all she could to find out where Jonte was living and how to contact him. But now he was a member of the new government, he was well-protected from ordinary people like her. Anonymous limousines with darkly tinted windows left the building each evening, whisking the officials away to their homes. Vidcalls and mails were routed to secretaries who vetted them before they reached their intended destinations. No attempt she’d made to contact Hans had succeeded. She knew it for a fact because he would have replied. She was certain. She’d made it clear he was her last resort.

The receptionist replied, Then I’d hazard a guess Mr Jonte doesn’t wish to speak to you.

He will if he knows it’s me. Please, just call him and give him my name.

The woman’s expression turned hard. As I said, that won’t be possible. Stand aside, madam.

No. Call Mr Jonte. It’ll only take you a few seconds. I swear to you, he’ll see me once he knows who I am.

This is ridiculous, muttered the receptionist.

Her hand moved under her desk. She was summoning security.

All right, said Taylan. You don’t give me any choice.

She reached into an inner pocket of her jacket and pulled out a fist-sized grenade before placing it on the desk with a clunk. The receptionist’s eyes nearly shot out of her head. Her chair squeaked as it scraped backward over the floor tiles.

The grenade was made of materials scanners couldn’t detect, and it had cost all of Taylan’s remaining funds.

A stillness and hush spread out across the lobby like an earthquake with Taylan at its epicenter. Quiet footsteps sounded around her as the people waiting shuffled away.

At last, she had the receptionist’s full attention. Call Mr Jonte. Now.

Giving a small cough, the woman reached for the headset hanging around her neck and moved it onto her ears. At the same time, her gaze flicked to somewhere beyond Taylan’s right shoulder.

She lifted the grenade above her head. If anyone comes any closer I’ll detonate it. She glanced behind her. Two security guards were poised mid-step.

She turned to the receptionist. Now.

The woman spoke quietly into the mic. Was she really speaking to Jonte? Or was she only playing for time?

The receptionist nodded and gave a tremulous smile. Mr Jonte will speak to you.

She lifted the headset and stood up. Leaning over the desk, she handed it to Taylan.

She checked behind her again. The security guards had managed to come closer while she’d been distracted. It didn’t matter. As soon as she spoke to Jonte, he would sort out the problem. He would assure them she wasn’t dangerous.

One-handed, she slid the headset over her ears and adjusted the mic. Hans?

The line was silent.

Feet pounded on tiles as the guards rushed up. A large man’s fist enclosed her grenade-holding hand while her other arm was twisted painfully behind her, the force lifting her onto her toes. The guard holding her arm pivoted her and began marching her, dragging her, toward the exit. The other guard maintained his firm grip on her hand.

It’s okay! Taylan protested. "There’s no need to…arghhh!" The pressure on her arm was unbearable. If she didn’t do something, the guard would break it or dislocate her shoulder.

She went deliberately limp, forcing every muscle and tendon to relax. As the tension left her body she slumped, pulling her captors down with her. The agony in her shoulder briefly increased but then the hold on her arm loosened. She wrenched her wrist free. Turning, she kicked one of the guards in the knee. He completed his passage floorward, his features twisting in pain. The other guard continued to grasp her hand wielding the grenade as if his life depended on it.

She elbowed him in the face, once, twice, three times. His nose flattened beneath her jutting bone, spurting blood. Yet he still didn’t let go.

The other guard was rising, heavily favoring his uninjured leg, his face pale and sweaty.

Let…go…of…my…, Taylan muttered between her teeth, punctuating her words with a punch to the first guard’s face. He was only inches away, too close for her to get her full strength behind the punches, but by the fourth one he began to lose consciousness.

As his grip faded, she pulled her hand free.

The other guard leapt at her.

She threw the grenade into the crowd.

Shrieks and screams echoed in the chamber and the people stampeded.

She ran.

Pain lanced from her back as needle-sharp points pierced her coat and embedded in her skin. A bolt of electricity ran through her and every muscle in her body clenched. She toppled like a felled tree to the floor.

Two

The cell door opened.

Visitor for you, said the prison guard sourly, making it clear he didn’t think she deserved visitors.

When she saw who had come to see her, she understood the guard’s attitude. She felt like a bratty kid who’d got what she wanted by throwing a tantrum.

I’m getting a sense of déjà vu, said Hans Jonte as he walked in.

Thank God, she said, rising from her bunk. I’m sorry about—

Sit down. You aren’t going anywhere.

Huh? Why? I thought you’d come to get me out

You’re under the Britannic Isles’ law now, Taylan Ellis, not medieval Crusader territory. You can’t threaten the lives of hundreds of people and then walk out of prison because you know someone of influence.

She slowly lowered herself to her bunk. Damn. What’s going to happen to me?

Tears started to fill her eyes. She blinked them away angrily. She’d come so far, done so much… But I didn’t hurt anyone.

The two guards you assaulted might not agree with you on that, said Jonte, pulling out the cell’s only chair from beneath a table and sitting down.

But the grenade was fake, she went on. I was only using it to get people to pay attention.

You certainly succeeded. Jonte leaned forward and rested his elbows on his spread knees. It’s nice to see you, despite the circumstances.

She nodded, mumbling, You too.

It was good to see him. In the time they’d spent together following their escape from Morgan and Dwyr Orr’s slimy son, she’d come to know and like the former head of the Secret Intelligence Service, but her mind was on her problems. The knowledge that Jonte wasn’t able to have her released immediately had come as a terrible shock. She’d achieved one aim only to fail her other, more important, one.

I have to say, however, Jonte continued, a simple vidcall or mail would have done if you wanted to speak to me. Terrifying governmental staff and visitors to the Parliament was overkill.

I tried! she protested angrily. Don’t you think I tried? You don’t realize it, but your support staff surround you like an impregnable fortress, protecting you from ordinary people like me.

I wouldn’t call you ordinary, said Jonte with a smile. What could be so important you needed to commit an act of terror to speak to me about it? I’m guessing you didn’t only want to pay me a social call.

No. She hung her head. How long are they going to keep me here? Do you know? Do I have to go on trial for what I did? The threat of a long sentence loomed. She’d already wasted precious days just trying to contact Jonte. She couldn’t afford to waste any more time.

The prosecution service hasn’t decided yet. I promise I will pull every string I have to help you, but I’m not a miracle worker. Now this is the Britannic Isles once more, everyone is subject to the laws of the land. Taylan… he reached out across the narrow cell to touch her knee …why did you want to talk to me?

Her tears flowed beyond her control, dripping onto her lap. Money. I need money. I have to get to Australia, and I don’t have enough money to buy a ticket.

He sat upright. "That’s it? That’s what all this is about?"

That’s it, she said bitterly. She’d spent all the money she’d earned as a Royal Marine getting to Ireland and buying passage to the West BI coast. The latter had been the greatest expense. Paying someone to risk their life to transport you to an invaded land was expensive.

But when I was Mayor of Abertawe I gave you plenty of money.

And I gave it all to the Resistance. I couldn’t risk being caught with lots of cash on me when I was pretending to be a fortune-teller. It would have looked suspicious. Besides, do you remember the whole ‘nearly-being-hung-by-Morgan’ episode? Did you think I had my bra stuffed with Crusader notes through all of that?

He snorted a laugh. I didn’t really think about it, I have to admit.

She drew her sleeve across her face and looked up. You remember about my kids? I found out they’re probably in a Crusader camp in Australia. Now Orr’s ceding her territories to the Alliance, I don’t know what’ll happen to my son and daughter. I have to get over there and find them as fast as I can.

How can there be a Crusader camp in Australia? It was never under Earth Awareness Crusade control.

A friend of mine—Major Wright. Do you remember him? He was one of the officers with Orr and Arthur at the victory parade.

Yes, I know who you mean. I’d already met him in Jamaica. Not the most reliable BA officer ever.

She frowned in confusion but ignored this tidbit to continue, He uncovered a child trafficking operation while on patrol off the coast of Australia. The Crusaders were bringing children in from countries they’d conquered. As far as I know, no one’s found where they were taking them or what they were doing with them. My kids have to be there. I know it. I’ve searched everywhere else.

I see. Orr must have been laying the groundwork for another invasion. Have you checked the Reunite Directory?

Yes! she exclaimed. Of course I have. Do you think I’m an idiot?!

One of the first acts of the new government, after re-installing a countrywide net, had been to create a site where separated families could post information to find their missing loved ones. She had scoured it several times daily without success. Wright’s tip was her strongest lead.

All right, said Jonte placatingly. I was only checking.

Do you have children?

No, I’ve never been married. I… Sorrow flitted across his features, then it was gone. I don’t have any children.

"Then you don’t know how I feel. I have to get to Australia, Hans, soon. Isn’t there anything you can do to help me?"

Major Wright must have informed the Australian authorities about his discovery. I’m sure they’re doing all they can to locate the camp. As soon as they do, your children’s names will appear on the Reunite site. I can keep an eye on it and let you know if their names appear.

No! That isn’t good enough. I have to go to Australia. Who knows how long it’ll take the authorities to find them? They’re only little. They might not even remember their names anymore, not if the Crusaders have forced them to use new ones.

The thought of Patrin and Kayla amongst the cultists, being indoctrinated with their weird beliefs and probably mistreated, caused sobs to well up in her chest. Her shoulders shook. Suddenly she was weeping uncontrollably. She’d been holding herself together for so long, focusing on her search, battening down her fear and despair, but she couldn’t control her feelings any longer. Jonte’s news that she could be convicted of terrorism and imprisoned for an unknown length of time had dealt the final blow.

She was dimly aware of him shifting from the chair to her bunk and putting an arm over her shoulders.

I will do what I can, he murmured.

Three

Hans mentally added the task of trying to find Taylan’s children to his long list of things to do as he left the prison. The days since the re-taking of the Britannic Isles had been full of activity, and they promised to be equally full for years to come. Setting aside his concern over his friend’s plight, it was a good feeling.

Worming his way back into a governmental position had been surprisingly easy. The disturbance to the functioning of the country had been significant, and few people on the ground could be trusted. It was lucky for Taylan—in a sense—that she’d committed her desperate act today. If she’d come to the West BI Parliament next week, she would have been too late. He was moving to London on Friday. He might not even have heard about her stunt except as gossip at an after-work drinks event.

He resolved to do all he could to help her. He owed her his life, though to be fair he had been in danger because she’d implicated him to Morgan. No matter. Taylan was brave, honest, resourceful, and competent. She would be a wonderful asset to the BA someday, but not until her children were found and she was out of prison.

The door to his chauffeured vehicle opened and he climbed inside.

Parliament House, sir? asked the driver.

Yes, Kahlil.

Hans turned on the seat back interface as the car pulled away. As usual, the roads were mostly clear of traffic. The Crusaders had done a great job of destroying most motorized conveyances. Consequently, the price of vehicles was ridiculously high and few could afford them. It was another situation to be remedied as soon as possible, along with the repaving of roads fallen into disrepair. An efficient transportation system was essential to a strong economy.

Fixing the roads was an easy endeavor compared to many the BI government faced. The greatest challenge was dealing with the disgruntled Crusader population, which wasn’t accepting the new regime at anything like the desired speed. Orr had opened the country’s gates to her hordes as soon as she’d invaded, and now her people formed the majority. Though the displaced native population had begun to return or come out of hiding, they were outnumbered by their invaders. Property disputes between the returners and the people who had stolen their homes were vicious. Several murders had taken place.

A very long road lay ahead.

Yet he was sanguine. No successor to the murdered King Frederick had even been discussed yet. The BI monarchy seemed to have been forgotten in the haste to resume control of the country and strip Orr of her powers. He would be the last person to mention the lack of a king or queen.

But he was forgetting. They had King Arthur, the Dwyr’s ‘consort’. Arthur was the reason no one in the government was mentioning Freddie’s successor, whoever that might be—probably some distant cousin. If the Isles needed a king, Arthur would fill the role.

Hans chewed his lip.

The car stopped, and