The New Ka'Adri

Prologue-2

Leyria’s head of state had been instrumental in starting that war and had acquired emergency powers to keep it going. Miri had to suppress the urge to shudder. Like Tremir, Jeral Dusep was a Blue. By the Eyes of Vengeance, it could be argued that he was primarily responsible for the party’s recent shift toward xenophobic rhetoric.

Multiple planets trying to destroy each other with starships? The very thought made her blood run cold. On her world, the automobile was a new invention. She could barely fathom the prospect of travelling among the stars, much less conducting a war across the span of lightyears. Though it all served to confirm one undeniable truth: no matter how civilized they thought they were, humans would always find an excuse to kill each other.

She had been given a cursory overview of the conflict; it had begun when the Ragnosian fleet tried to annex a Leyrian colony. After that, Jeral Dusep – newly elected to the office of Prime Council – made an open declaration of war. And it just got worse from there.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Tremir countered. “People want a strong leader.”

“Indeed. Which is why Dusep has to go.” Smoothly, Miri lowered herself into an empty chair at a nearby table and crossed one leg over the other. She set her glass down and regarded Tremir just long enough to make the silence uncomfortable, waiting to see if he would react. He didn’t. “He bungled the entire situation, and now, we’re worse off than we were a year ago.”

Tremir offered a conciliatory smile. “There were missteps,” he admitted, claiming the chair across from her. “But the Prime Council has guided us through these difficult times, and he will be needed in the days to come.”

Miri raised a curious eyebrow. “And why is that?”

“The war never officially ended. It only paused when both sides became aware of an even greater threat.” He was referring to the Overseers, the enigmatic aliens who had orchestrated the conflict from the beginning. A group of Justice Keepers had revealed their meddling to the rest of the galaxy. Humans would take any excuse to fight each other, but they would just as quickly set aside their animosity when aliens got involved. That truth held nearly as strongly as the other. “But now that threat is gone, and the tensions that gave rise to war still remain.”

“Do you expect the war to resume?”

Tremir opened his mouth, but it seemed to occur to him that his reflections might find their way into the wrong ears. He collected himself with a deep breath. “Anything is possible.”

“Interesting,” Miri murmured. “Perhaps you should tell me more.” She added a smile that would make any man’s heart race. “After you pour me another drink.”

“After* * *

“He’s convinced the war is gonna start up again,” Miri said. Her head was still throbbing after all that whiskey. And whatever that blue stuff was that Tremir had fed her. It had a fruity taste but a nasty bite.

Sitting in a cushioned chair with her legs stretched out under the desk, she winced at the bright lights in the ceiling. Today, she wore a pair of dungarees and a simple work shirt. Honest clothes for honest folk. It felt good to let her guard down, to cast aside the snooty socialite and let her natural persona shine through. At least, that was what she told herself. The truth was much harder to deal with.

This little office in the depths of an underground base had a desk that was covered in that fancy material the Leyrians used for their computers. SmartGlass, it was called. The ceiling lights were reflected on its clear surface. Other than that, there wasn’t much in the way of furniture or decorations. Just four gray walls.

The owner of this particular office, a woman by the name of Helana Shinak, sat on the corner of her desk. She was an older lady with more than a few creases in her pink cheeks and a bun of steely-gray hair.

With a deep breath, she absorbed the information Miri had relayed and nodded as though considering it. “Politicians say many things, Miri. Their ability to predict future events leaves much to be desired.”

“Don’t know about that,” Miri replied. “But I can promise you that he’s sincere. We drank for the better part of two hours, and that loosened his tongue something fierce. Couldn’t hurt to look, don’t you think?”

“None of our agents have found any indication that the Ragnosians are planning to resume hostilities.”

Helana – or Director Shinak, as she preferred to be called – was the head of the Leyrian Intelligence Service. After leaving her world, the first thing Miri had done was look for a job. Luckily, she knew a few people, and the good director was willing to give her a chance.

Hopping off the desk and grunting from the pain of sore knees, Helana paced across the room to the door. She spun around and stood in the corner. “I’m impressed,” she said. “When Director Tal recommended you to me, I had my doubts, but you were able to assume that role so flawlessly.”

flawlessly.”“Just a matter of payin’ attention, ma’am.”

“I’ve seen agents who, after years of training, still can’t do what you did. Not as well as you did it, anyway. I’m going to play your recording for every batch of recruits that we train – once they receive the appropriate clearance, of course. I would appreciate it if you could add some notes for things that won’t come through in audio. Posture, demeanour, physical contact: that sort of thing.”

Miri propped her feet up on the other woman’s desk – provoking a frown from Helana – and sat back with her arms folded. “Happy to help, ma’am. But some of it ain’t stuff you can teach. Some of it’s stuff you have to live.”

She had spoken with some of the LIS agents, and she already knew where they were going wrong. They believed that a character was like a coat you could put on or take off at your convenience, a mask you wore over your true personality. The ka’adri demanded much more from their recruits.

ka’adriIt wasn’t enough to simply act the part; you had to become that person, to think as they would. Once, when Miri was a girl, Casta Nin Jhareel had warned her about the cost of living that way.

becomeThe woman was a relentless harridan who would punish even the smallest lapse. The ka’adri were trained from the age of ten: trained to observe, to deceive and to kill. After their first year on the Compound, each child was given “a new life.” A false identity they would assume for the remainder of that year’s studies. In the third year, new identities were assigned every three months. And then at the end of every month by the time a child turned thirteen. New names, new accents, new histories: ka’adri recruits were expected to switch between them as easily as an ordinary man might change his shirt. And Casta would tolerate nothing less than perfection.

ka’adrika’adriIf the mask slipped once, it was ten slaps on the wrist. Twice meant an afternoon of hard labour. Three times…Well, that was when the instructors got creative. Very few children made it to the end of the program. Miri could still remember the one time when Casta had let the mask slip.

The old hag had found Miri crying in her bunk after receiving a few smacks from the disciplinary rod. At first, Casta’s face had been as hard as granite, but the scowl melted into a look of profound sadness. “It will get easier, Miri,” she promised. “Perhaps too easy.”

When Miri asked what she meant, Casta had explained that if you grew accustomed to switching between identities, you could lose all sense of who you really were. Only now, after years of living this life, did Miri understand how right she was.

The person she was today, the twit from a backward planet who didn’t know the first thing about basic etiquette? That wasn’t her true self. It was simply the identity she had worn longest. That kind of thing worked well when you were travelling through ramshackle towns and posing as a criminal. It was the personality she had assumed when she met Larani Tal. And when Larani introduced her to Helana Shinak, she had maintained that personality. Miri wore it now because it was what the other woman expected. When she searched the depths of her soul to find her true self, she came face to face with a disconcerting possibility.

Maybe she didn’t have one.

“Our agents in the Prime Council’s inner circle believe that he intends to stay in office even if he loses the next election,” Helana said. “Did Tremir divulge anything that might indicate how Dusep plans to accomplish this?”

how“Nothing solid,” Miri replied. “I’m more worried about the war.”

Easing herself into her chair, Helana folded her hands on the desk and tilted her head like a bird as she studied Miri. “You think Tremir’s claims are credible?”

Pulling her feet off the desk, Miri stood up with a smile. “Well, I admit I don’t know your system, but it seems to me that a man who’s worried about losing his power might decide to create a crisis.”

The dark scowl on Helana’s face revealed more than the other woman might have liked. She didn’t know if Dusep could accomplish such a thing, but she wouldn’t put it past him. And that told Miri everything she needed to know.

“We need credible information from Ragnos,” Helana said.

“I’d be happy to provide it,” Miri replied. “But I’m gonna need a team.”