The Shape of Surrender

Nalyra tapped a single finger slowly against her chin as she kept her eyes on the viewports of her ship’s bridge. Half a dozen windows were spread across the displays, each one showing the helmet feed of a different squad leader in the operation.

“Stack up. We breach in five.”

Mikka’s voice came from the leftmost window, as she slid up to a set of doors.

“Here it comes,” Vessa muttered from her place at Nalyra’s side, more to herself than the Crown Daughter. “Shouldn’t be much different than the others.”

Nalyra shared her sentiments. This cell would fall, just as the rest.

The past two spans seemed to have flown by, the ship-days blurring together in her memory. The rot infesting Orphila had burrowed far deeper than any of them had expected. This was the fourth cell of the separatist terrorist group the Aegis had uncovered, working with the planetary government. And it would be the fourth to be scattered to the void.

The raid on the first cell had caused a cascading effect, pointing the way toward the next one. And each takedown after that had sent more ripples across the capital — clandestine but traceable communications, noteworthy public gatherings, and the movement of money and material — all linking together to reveal the Aegis’s next prey.

Another of the windows caught Nalyra’s eye, and she turned her gaze to it, watching as the helmet camera’s feed broadcasted the wearer readying a pair of flashbangs. Tor’laen’s feed.

Mikka had been quite insistent on properly arming the Ydani — they had made a proper-sized rig and body armor for him. The fabrication team had created firearms for him as well, with input from the man himself. He now carried a sizable submachine gun, something that would be closer to an LMG in the hands of an Armswoman.

They had even been able to make a helmet for him. Well, close enough, at least. It was nearer to a full-face visor that hinged open in the back, letting the Ydani simply snap it closed around his head. His horns had proven to be too tricky to easily encase, so the top of the device was left open, horns and a decent amount of his hair visible even when he was wearing it. Not ideal, but at least he had access to all the tactical readouts and communication methods that Citadel soldiers enjoyed.

Nalyra had been the slightest bit hesitant about arming him so thoroughly — more a question of the optics of it than an issue of trust — but she could not deny the results. The man had been deadly in combat before, but now that he was properly equipped, he was a true terror on the battlefield — seemingly unstoppable when faced with only untrained and poorly armed terrorists.

“Breach!”

Mikka’s voice came over the comm channel, and every window showed a flurry of movements, each squad deploying flashbangs before sweeping into the room even as they went off. The Armswomen’s helmets and Tor’laen’s visor would simply filter out the light and sound of the devices.

Nalyra’s eyes went back to the Ydani’s camera feed as he stormed into the room, directing his squad smoothly and efficiently. Mikka was doing a trial run of the man as a squad leader, something none of the women under her command had objected to. Covered by the Armswomen behind him, the Ydani tore through the room, putting down terrorists with almost alarming ease.

The entire firefight lasted a mere mark, the morale of the terrorist cell shattering like a dropped wine glass.

“Down! On the ground, now!” Tor’laen’s voice came over the comm channel, holding a pair of cowed Kelrana at gunpoint. “Saia, get the restraints ready.”

Yes, the cleanup of the terrorists was proceeding at an acceptable pace.

On the other side of the operation, the assassination conspiracy was also suitably unraveling.

They had received a gift from the Maker — the assassin whose spine Tor’laen snapped had mercifully survived, against all odds. The woman had been put on life support and thoroughly restrained, now a prisoner in the Aegis’s infirmary, constantly under guard.

Nalyra had taken great satisfaction in personally ripping all that she could from the captive’s mind and memories, sparing no mercy for a woman who had personally tried to kill her. Faces, names, targets, safehouse locations…she had taken it all, and her intelligence team had gotten to work immediately.

Nalyra grinned to herself, her eyes on Tor’laen’s feed as he snapped restraints on a Zakkili man.

While Mikka was leading raids publicly, some of her less visible assets had been securing targeted individuals, seizing accomplices, and making certain people simply…disappear. At this point, the conspiracy had been all but dismantled, only a few final leads to follow.

If there was a single snag in the whole operation, it was that Minister Nekiin’s contact, that nondescript Zakkili woman, had slipped the Aegis’s net. Nivi and her team had gone over hundreds of hours of surveillance feeds, trying to locate her, and the engineer had finally gotten a lead. The woman had left the planet shortly before the Citadel’s arrival at Orphila, last recorded boarding a passenger cruiser at the capital’s spaceport.

Nivi had pulled the ship’s registered destination, revealing that the woman was heading back to the Core Worlds. The Crown Daughter had sent all the information they had on the woman, along with a warning, to the High Fortress. She had been surprised to receive a reply from Viora of all people. The message her sister sent back had been terse but sincere, promising to do everything within her power to locate the placid-looking agent and deal with her appropriately.

Nalyra was satisfied. If anyone could track down a wayward assassin in the Core, it was Viora.

“We’re clear here,” Mikka was saying, drawing the Crown Daughter’s attention once more. “Give the all-clear for the peacekeepers to move in. They can take these shitheads into custody.”

A slow grin spread across Nalyra’s face, her gaze going once more to Tor’laen’s feed. She watched him cycle a new magazine into that beastly weapon of his, as his squad moved to secure the rest of the building. Yes, things were indeed proceeding as they should.

The Crown Daughter sat at the desk in her cabin, her posture immaculate. It was already a few bells into third watch, but Nalyra still wore the attire of a Royal Hand, her hair still pinned up in a Crown Veil. She felt like she needed the clothes — her uniform as much a protective measure as an Armswoman’s protective plating. It would help.

In her hands, she turned over the dagger. Tor’laen’s dagger. Her dagger.

It felt like she was seeing it in a new light, after her talk with the Ydani. His honor, worn at her side. Somehow, that felt…correct. Proper. It was hers to carry. Hers to hold. He had surrendered to her, after all. Not the Monarchy. Not her mother. Her.

However, she had not expected the religious connotations of the act, though they made sense in hindsight. That vow he made. Beyond where even light may reach. Nalyra quite liked the sound of that. Again, it sounded right.

Perhaps…perhaps this Bridge wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. She should have access to him. He was quickly becoming more of an asset than she had ever dreamed. Leading her troops. Neutralizing her enemies. Yes, she quite liked the fit of it all.

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The Crown Daughter shook her head. Her thoughts were going in odd directions that night, the upcoming report leaving her somewhat unbalanced.

As if reacting to her thoughts, the viewscreen on her desk lit up, the text on it denoting a call from the High Fortress. She lowered the dagger, slipping it under the desk. But she did not release it, keeping it clutched in her grip. As usual, she found the intricate engravings a comfort.

With her free hand, Nalyra tapped the screen, and her mother’s face appeared on the monitor.

“Nalyra. It is good to see you again.” The Queen Matriarch smiled.

There was more of her mother present than usual. The Crown Daughter remembered those lines around her grin.

“Queen Matriarch.” Nalyra bowed.

“Oh, please,” the Queen chuckled. “We are closer than that, aren’t we, my daughter?”

Nalyra’s eyes widened.

“Mother…have you been drinking?”

“Don’t tell anyone.” Azora gave her daughter a wink. “Otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it from my ministers.”

Nalyra could hardly believe her eyes and ears. It had been years since she’d seen the Queen consume enough alcohol to affect her senses.

“What…what is the occasion?” she dared to ask.

“The passing of one of my dear daughters,” Azora said quietly. “I’ve been mourning Taira for spans, but this is the first time I’ve had to myself.” She lifted an elegantly crafted wine glass to her lips, taking a sip of the dark red liquid. “You saw her, yes?” Azora’s gaze went back to Nalyra. “Did…did she look at peace?”

“She did.” Nalyra’s voice was also quiet. “She was wreathed in flowers, the love from her subjects plain to see.”

“Oh, Taira…” Azora sighed. “Would that I could have spared you from this fate…”

The Queen seemed absolutely devastated by her third daughter’s death. Nalyra couldn’t fault her in the least, as grief still coiled inside herself as well. She felt closer to her mother than she had in more than a decade.

“Mother, I have news to report. News I think you’ll find satisfying.” Nalyra was suddenly eager to share her progress, what she had accomplished, with her mother.

“Then let us hear it, dear daughter!” Azora gestured with her wine glass, straightening up as if in a mockery of her usual poise and bearing.

“Yes, Mother. Let us start from when I first arrived at Orphila…”

“...and the new governor is set to assume office tomorrow,” Nalyra finished, making a sweeping gesture.

“You have done well, my daughter,” Azora intoned, her voice suitably regal. “But adding the Ydani to your command staff? Are you certain?” The Queen leaned in, her voice just the tiniest touch furtive.

“He has been an asset,” Nalyra admitted. “Even more than that…he saved my life,” she said quietly.

“Your life?” The Queen’s eyes were as wide as Nalyra had ever seen them. “The preliminary report said there was an attempt, but not…please, daughter, elaborate.”

“I was ambushed, in the capital building,” the Crown Daughter explained. “Three assassins, and I was dosed with Xylaris. A concealed launcher.”

Azora sucked in a sharp breath, the hand holding her wine glass trembling slightly.

“The Ydani…he neutralized all three of the assassins, bare-handed. Then kept me alive until my soldiers could arrive.”

“He…saved you?”

“He did,” Nalyra acknowledged. “I know not if he is similar to the average Ydani, but he is disciplined, dutiful. And his people seem a structured, ordered race, from what he has said.”

She straightened up in her seat.

“If Tor’laen is a proper representative of their kind...” The Crown Daughter took a deep breath. “I…I can agree that they will be a true asset to our people, but they must be handled gently,” she forced the words out, the dagger suddenly heavy in her hand. “...I implore you, Mother.”

Azora drew back slightly, then took a long sip of wine, half of the glass vanishing in one shot.

“Let me ask, daughter, why do you feel so?”

Nalyra’s mind went to her captive, her asset. What had made him lively? What had made him embrace Zakkili culture? His people could follow that same path, right?

“He…he fought in a war that no one in our Monarchy could even imagine, and yet…” Nalyra trailed off, her mind going back to the small changes she had seen in Tor’laen. The novels he was reading. The fabrication of that board game he was so fond of.

“There is more left in him than just discipline and violence,” she said, a part of her twisting with the betrayal of her charge, revealing him in this way. “I think his people have lost much…too much. But I believe we may indeed have what they need, what they desire, within our Monarchy. Within our society. We just need to show them that fact.”

“I see.” For a moment, the Queen Matriarch returned, her gaze imperious and unshakable.

However, after a brief pause, Azora brought her wine glass to her lips, and took a long sip.

“Nalyra.” Azora’s eyebrow lifted. “Should I be concerned that this report has become less about Orphila and more about your Ydani?”

“Mother! What are you implying? I have faithfully carried out your orders, my Queen.”

“Certainly.” Azora smirked at her daughter.

Nalyra’s cheeks flushed. She was not used to this. Not used to talking with her mother. The woman who could peer inside her with merely the slightest effort.

“He is an asset. A quite useful one. That is all,” she said firmly. “I have bells worth of his combat feeds. I shall send them to you, so that you may see just how effective he is.”

“I would indeed like to see it,” Azora said, bringing the wine glass to her lips once more. “But yes, I will take your words into consideration, Nalyra.” She idly twisted the wine glass between her fingers, watching the dark red liquid swirl inside. “I have assigned Royal Hand Jalari to oversee the Ydani situation.”

“Jalari?” Nalyra echoed, eyes wide. “The woman is a brute, my Queen.”

“Yes, she is quite a…blunt instrument when it comes down to it,” Azora chuckled. “However, if corralled with the proper leash, she can be quite effective. The Ydani’s ‘invisible’ vassalization has already begun. Her Citadel already orbits their homeworld, and her emissaries and priestesses walk the streets of their capital.”

“And the results so far…?” Nalyra dared to ask.

“Cautious, but optimistic,” Azora said airily, taking another sip of wine. “Though she reports that she has yet to really make headway with integrating their society.”

“She should learn to play Dominion,” Nalyra muttered.

“‘Dominion’, my daughter? What is that?”

Nalyra had forgotten just how sharp her mother’s ears were.

“It is a board game, Mother. One greatly favored by the Ydani.”

“Is it now?” Azora’s eyes flashed, a sly look upon her face. “I shall order her to report on this…’Dominion’, then.”

For a split second, the image of Jalari gnashing her teeth after receiving a royal order to study an alien board game flashed through Nalyra’s head. She had to bite back a grin.

“But back to more immediate matters, my daughter.” Azora poured herself another glass of wine on the screen, the bottle easily larger than Nalyra’s head. “The Martyr’s Blade has completed its assigned task, and will be joining you on Orphila shortly. Zikara will be there to attend the coronation dinner of the new governor.”

Nalyra’s ear flicked in irritation, as it tended to do when someone brought up her twin. Azora clocked it instantly.

“Come now, dear,” the Queen gave her a wry smile. “Can you not get along a little better with your sister?”

“Oil and water, Mother. As always,” Nalyra grumbled.

Azora gave a tinkling little laugh, her face flushed.

“Ah well.” The Queen gave a mock sigh. “I shall let you go, daughter. Excellent work on both the Orphila and Ydani situation. I look forward to hearing more about your…charge.”

Nalyra felt her cheeks burn, but refused to acknowledge it.

“Now then, I intend to finish this bottle before the night is done. I have a simply dreadful day on the morrow — some matter of embezzlement by a sizable Noble house. All very droll and regretful.” Azora took a long sip of her drink, then locked eyes with Nalyra. “And dear…do stay safe. For the sake of my heart.”

“I will, Mother.”

The screen went dark as Azora cut the call.

Nalyra brought the dagger up, resting it on the top of her desk. Yes, she would stay safe, protected. For the sake of her family. For the sake of her subjects. A single slender finger traced the golden engraving of the Ydani’s sun on the weapon’s sheath. Safe.