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49 - Commander Wren

After only a slight hesitation at the corner, Commander Wren turned left toward the door at the end of the hallway in the Central Building. She balanced her tray in one hand, reached for the key ... then paused. Feeling uncharacteristically nervous.

She was a hero of beachhead seven, a leader of the Ryetown administration, the fifth-highest-ranking officer on Waldhill Island, and a noble-by-marriage. Still, she slumped against the wall and frowned. Not afraid! That would be ridiculous. But ... wary of unlocking the door in front of her.

She’d faced a howling pack of oghurs without flinching. She’d battled the armies of three islands. Hell, she’d survived a Plague. Yet she was afraid to open this door.

Commander Wren took a steadying breath. This was ridiculous. She knew what she needed to do. And whatever her failings, she always did what was necessary.

Balancing the tray in one hand, she unlocked the door and stepped inside. The room was small but pleasant. Three windows opened high in the walls, and sunlight streamed through, highlighting cheerful paintings on the wall, a comfortable sofa, and a bed with a feather mattress. There were even bookshelves that she’d personally stocked, and a reading lamp and a comfortable chair.

And her son Usim, who was sitting on the comfortable chair, reading a book. He glanced at her when she entered, then returned to his reading without speaking.

“I brought pastries,” Wren told him.

Silence.

She set the tray on the table. “Remember that bakery down the block in Rosemont?”

Usim flipped a page.

“We went in so often that they gave you a nickname. Stickboy. People thought--one of your friends overheard them, and thought it meant you were really good at stickball, but it was because of how much you loved their breadsticks.”

Usim kept reading.

“Listen,” she said, sitting at the table and facing him. “I know this isn’t good. Locking you in your room. I know that. This isn’t how I imagined our reunion, either. More than a year apart and then ...” She took a breath. “I know this isn’t good, Usim, but there’s no reason to make it worse. ”

“You’re willing to execute an innocent person,” he told her flatly, setting his book aside. “That makes you a murderer.”

“The--they’re almond-flour cookies?”

“I’m ashamed of you. Dad would be ashamed of you.”

Wren felt a flare of anger--and yes, also a flare of shame. She took a breath, then said, “It’s easy to have lofty principles when you have no power, Usim. When nothing you do matters. Like your father. But things become a little more complex when your actions--or inactions--have consequences.”

“Is that right?” Usim thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yes. Yes, that’s true. I guess that’s the price of power. Those are the dues you pay for having power. Your actions have consequences, so you cannot simply murder anyone who angers or opposes you. You are obliged to think things through.” He met her gaze. “You have to take responsibility.”

To keep herself from snapping at him, Wren took a bite of a cookie. She hated that after such a long separation, her beloved son saw her as a stranger. Not just a stranger, but a brute. They’d been so close when he was little. She’d lived for him, and he for her. She hated this distance between them, but as she reigned in her temper she realized that she was impressed by his courage.

Like that fucking human had said, Usim was brave. When had that happened? He’d been brave to help those ollie kids, and he’d been brave to loudly, far too loudly, oppose the execution of the crachen Erdinand. And he was brave to oppose her now.

“I am thinking things through,” she told him. “I promise you that. I don’t like this either, but it’s the best of a number of bad choices.”

“The best for whom? For Erdinand, who you’re going to behead for obeying me?”

“The best for the world, Usim. and we’re not going to kill him!”

“He’s being executed, Commander.”

Her jaw clenched when he called her ‘Commander’ instead of ‘Mom.’ “No he’s not. He’s bait. The human--that human will come to save him, and we’ll catch him. What’s his name? Alex? Alex killed Six Coves soldiers. He broke out of jail. We cannot let him go free.”

“Because your authority is more important than an innocent life.”

“Yes,” she said. “It is.”

For a long moment, he simply looked at her. This young kid. Her son. The most important person in her world. He simply looked at her. Then he said, “If you kill Erdinand, there will be--”

“We’re not going to kill him! This human has some kind of hero complex. He’ll come.”

“And what if you don’t catch him?”

“Between me and Miss Kathina, and the twins, and an entire company of soldiers, we’ll catch him.”

Usim didn’t respond, but he looked dubious.

“Plus, we have a secret weapon,” she told him.

“What’s that?”

“Who is that,”she corrected. “And it’s a secret.”

He took a sudden, shaky breath, and looked his age again. Just a scared, confused kid trying to be strong. She wanted to hold him, but she knew he wouldn’t let her. So she simply waited until he was able to speak.

Then he said, “I’m not athletic, Commander. I’m not good at stickball. I’m not strong, I’m not big, I’m not tough. I’m fairly smart, though. And more than that ...” He trailed off for a moment. “More than that, I’m realizing that I need to make hard decisions, too. That I have responsibility. That it’s not enough having ... what did you call them? ‘Lofty principles.’ I must act on them. I don’t have much power. I barely have any. But I do have some.”

“You’ll have more once--”

Usim raised his hand, asking her to stop. “Which means I must use the little power that I have. So. Mom. If you kill that crachen, I can’t do anything physically. Or politically or ... publicly. But I won’t forgive you. I’m making that decision now. If he dies, I will not forgive you. I will no longer consider you my mother. That is the price we will both have to pay.”

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* * *

Holy shit. That son of hers. Looking her in the eye and saying that. Where had that cutthroat confidence come from? That was power. Wren wouldn’t change her course, of course. She would still do her duty, but she ... she was floored by the little monster’s cleverness and cunning. Floored and impressed. Blown away. So proud. And furious, naturally. Absolutely enraged.

But still: proud.

And furious.

And maybe a little concerned about Usim’s unwavering assurance that he could pull it off. That he could force himself to never forgive her. She was so concerned that she was still thinking about him a few hours later, as she entered a conference room for a final briefing.

“I just heard from my uncle the viceroy,” Miss Kathina announced, smoothing the collar of her dress. “From the Port.”

“We know who your uncle is,” Wren told her.

The woman never shut up about him. Viceroy this, viceroy that. Across the table, the twins Jikon and Jikap glanced at each other, communicating silently. Either laughing at Kathina or wondering why Wren wasn’t smart enough to keep her mouth shut. Which she normally would’ve been, except that conversation with Usim had shaken her.

Miss Kathina smiled gently. “Well, Commander Wren, you don’t know what I just heard from him. A bird came, with a message. My uncle the viceroy is quite determined that we capture the human fugitive. He sees this, in fact, as a test of your control of Ryetown--and your quality as a commander.”

“Mm,” Wren said.

“I hope I made that clear,” Miss Kathina said, and adjusted her necklace.

“You have.”

“Oh, good! I’m pleased to hear that. Clarity is so important.”

“Agreed.”

“In other news ...” Miss Kathina slid a slip of paper to her. “This was attached to the message.”

Wren noted the official seal before she read the words: At her sole discretion, Kathina Limt is empowered to assume command of Ryetown and all associated forces. If she so chooses, Commander Wren will function as her second-in-command.

The official signature read: Viceroy Limt.

A worm of anger writhed in Wren’s gut. Small, controllable, but furious. The fucking viceroy was demoting her below Kathina? And not even in person, not even face-to-face, but with a fucking note? She couldn’t speak a moment as she tried to grapple with the scale of the insult.

Then she said, “I see.”

“Perhaps you should show our colleagues,” Kathina told her.

“Oh, happily.”

She handed the paper to Jikon and Jikap, who passed it along to the other lieutenants. A murmuring sounded as the officers expressed quiet unease at the change. Which no doubt wasn’t helped by the fact that Kathina was the only person in the room not wearing a uniform.

“What is the current chain of command?” Wren asked, as if she didn’t know. As if by granting Kathina the power to take command, the viceroy hadn’t already given her command.

“Oh, nothing is different!” Kathina said, her triguld-angled face serene. “Not yet. No, so long as you do your duty, Commander, I’m sure there’s no call for me to step in.”

“Very good,” Wren said, and tried to focus on the briefing. “Now, then. The crachen prisoner will remain in the ... secure location with the new asset until--”

“Secure location?” Kathina interrupted. “New asset? Could I trouble you to speak more clearly?”

“The target ...” Wren took a breath. “The human known as Alex is gemmed. We don’t know his full capacities. There’s no reason to suspect he can eavesdrop on us, Miss Kathina, but there’s no need to take the risk of speaking openly, either. We all understand where the crachen is being held, no? He will remain there, guarded by the new asset--that is, by the gifted soldier the viceroy send to assist us--until shortly before sunset.”

“And what of the decoys?” Kathina asked.

Wren just stared at her for a moment. Apparently she hadn’t understood ‘no need to speak openly.’ The decoys were three crachen soldiers locked in various cells and ‘guarded’ by several squads each. If the human managed to infiltrate the prison, he’d stumble upon one of them--at which point the crachen ‘prisoner’ would stab him in the back, while the others closed in on him.

Even if he did flee, Wren couldn’t imagine he’d escape without a scratch. And, of course, discovering that he’d wasted time trying to rescue the wrong crachen would anger and frustrate him--and make him sloppy.

She tried to answer Kathina’s question without revealing details, then she discussed the disposition of forces for the execution itself. She planned to repulse a full assault of the local militia plus the gemmed human hmself, but she didn’t expect anything quite that spectacular. What she expected--which she’d never admit to Usim--was that the human would surrender. He’d risked his life to save a bunch of olifarn children he didn’t know. He sounded catastrophically naive. Admirable, in his way--even heroic--but also like a gormless idealist.

After the briefing, she returned to her room and took a few minutes to wonder what the fuck Viceroy Limt was thinking. Threatening her with his niece? Putting Kathina in command of Ryetown? Sure, Wren knew that Kathina had a history with the intelligence services. She was a beast in a fight, too--at least in the right kind of fight.

Still, she’d never commanded a military outpost.

Wren managed her anger via the ancient method of eating a half-dozen almond flour cookies, then she gathered her escort and headed for Gallows Square.

The sun was low over the rooftops of Ryetown. The silhouettes of archers looked stark against the pink sky. The square was packed with soldiers and Sixers and probably Krelvites, relocated here to seed the population with loyalty. She climbed onto the stage from the stairs in the back. Five of her better soldiers were already there, in position behind the executioner’s block.

She nodded to them and moved to the front of the stage. Without quite looking for them, she picked out the twins in the crowd. Them and eight elite fighters--very much her best soldiers

She said a few words about the charges against the crachen, then Kathina stepped beside her as if to address the crowd.

So Wren fell resentfully silent and Kathina raised her arms and called: “Make no mistake! The condemned man, by his own actions, has proved himself our enemy. He may have deluded himself into believing that he was simply helping some lost citizens, but if we do not chain islands to a continent, we all lose. The condemned crachen abetted not just the local resistance, but the Plagues. We cannot fight them if we are divided. We must join together or we will not survive. Our parents, our children, our future will die. We must obey our superiors or we all die. We must do our duty to Krelv or the Plagues will destroy us. That is the reality. And anyone who keeps us apart? Anyone who is disobedient or who promotes disobedience? That is the enemy.”

She kept speaking as the new asset--a gemmed crachen named Tiral-ur--led the prisoner onto the execution platform.

Tiral-ur was one of the viceroy’s handpicked guards. From what Wren had seen, his power was invulnerability, along with the normal gemmed boosts to speed and agility. And while invulnerability wasn’t a flashy power, it was--obviously--almost impossible to defeat. The reports claimed that Tiral-ur had survived a direct hit by a 400-pound stone thrown by a trebuchet. He didn’t inflict extraordinary damage, but how could you defeat someone like that?

Good thing they were on the same side.

The gifted crachen soldier brought the prisoner to the chopping block, and the human fugitive still didn’t appear. Miss Kathina said a few more words, then stepped aside as the executioner approached ... and still nothing happened.

Maybe Wren had misjudged the human. Maybe he wouldn’t act. After the sergeant called for order, Wren read the official document sentencing the prisoner to death and--

“Hey Erdinand!” a man’s voice called from across Gallows Square. “Did I miss anything?”

The crachen prisoner’s eyestalks bulged toward the voice. “Run, Alex! It’s a trap!”

“Of course it is, Erd.” The human took one step forward from a storage building archway. “I love a good trap.”

The crowd parted. The civilians moved the sides of the square while the soldiers reoriented toward him. Alex was a youngish man with a neatly-trimmed beard and shaggy dark hair. Tall for a human, and more ... physical than most humans. He had presence. Even now, faced with a hundred enemy soldiers, he looked confident and bold. Not unhandsome, either. Pity she’d have to kill him.

“Hey, Wren!” he called toward her. “I owe you for the lesson.”

“Do you?” she asked, as the twins slipped through the soldiers toward him.

“Baiting a trap with someone I care about? That’s clever. Evil as fuck, but clever. Effective.”

Then he pulled someone toward him from the darkness inside the storage building. A skinny infenti of a nice orange hue that reminded her of--

Usim.

That was Usim, and the human’s hand was vice-tight around his upper arm.

A hatchet appeared in the human’s other hand, with the blade already touching Usim’s throat.

Wren’s blood turned to ice. Her vision tunneled. She’d never been afraid before. She’d thought that she’d known what fear was, but she’d been wrong. Her pulse crashed in her ears and her thoughts gibbered, yet she still managed to hear herself make a low horrified noise.

“This is how this is going to work,” the human said. “You release Erdinand to my friends in the alley over there to my left.” He jerked his head. “Once they’re safe, I release your son to you.”

“Don’t hurt him,” she heard herself say.

“Why would I hurt him? I’m not going to hurt him. Even if you kill Erdinand I won’t hurt your son. Nah, I’ll slit his throat so fast that he won’t feel any pain.”