Evan Currie - Heirs of Empire

“Lyd, we need to keep low. We’ve been getting by—”

Lydia rolled her eyes again. “On the survival pack in your skimmer and what pocket change we had when we ran? We were days from being starved out of your little cave here, Brennan, and you know it. Besides, we’re far enough from the capital. No one here cares about the orders to take us in.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Lyd,” Brennan said with derision. “There’s nowhere far enough that they won’t care about the orders to take us in. With father and Kayle … gone, we’re the Scourwind heirs. Everyone is going to want a piece of us.”

“Look, do you want to eat or not?” Lydia demanded, now quite put out. “I’ll be happy with double rations.”

He scowled and held a hand out. “Fine.”

Victorious, Lydia smirked at him and dropped a ration pack into his hand. Brennan turned it over, noting that not only was it Imperial issue but it had the quartermaster’s stamp on one side.

“Honestly”—he shook his head—“I can’t believe that I’m the one everyone considered a delinquent.”

“I always was the smarter twin.” Lydia shot him a grin.

Brennan, well used to comments like that, just sighed. “I suppose that I’ll have to settle for being the better-looking one.”

The glare of pure death shot in his direction cheered Brennan up immensely as he thumbed the autoheat switch on the pack and set it down while it warmed. He had a few things left to do to his skimmer before he ate.

“How is it?” Lydia asked after a moment, knowing that the skimmer was about the only thing in the world they still owned.

“Ready to fly,” he answered. “I just pulled the identification systems and blasted the numbers off the side. I’ll paint some fake numbers on it, if I can find some paint. They won’t stand up to a scan, but it’s better that than the alternatives.”

“I’ll see if they’re stocking any paint in the local stores,” Lydia offered.

Brennan closed his eyes, taking a breath. “Please don’t get caught, Lyd.”

“Aw,” she cooed at him, “are you worried about me, bro?”

“Less and less every time I talk to you, but yeah,” Brennan said, drawing another glare from her. “We’re in this together, Lyd. Stand or fall.”

She nodded slowly. “Stand or fall.”

“All right, tell me what I have to do,” Brennan said, taking a breath.

“What?” Lydia looked puzzled.

“Lyd, I’m not letting you go back into town alone, and besides, two can carry more than one.”

They left the skimmer in the cave they’d stashed it in, hiking the few miles to the edge of the small settlement. The two of them were moderately disguised, though they weren’t too worried about being recognized. The empire was a big place, and the Imperial family—such as it was—didn’t photograph as often as one might expect. Still, Lydia tied her dark hair up, and Brennan wore his flight cap and tinted goggles. He looked like a skimmer groupie, which was fair enough, he supposed, and she could pass for any of ten thousand young girls in the area.

They hoped, at least.

A commotion caught their attention, and the twins pulled back as they watched a long column of bedraggled men, women, and children come to a halt near the edge of the town, where tents were already being set up.

Brennan wanted to head back to the skimmer and preferably take flight before any more people arrived, but Lydia ignored his entreaties. Instead she grabbed the first person she could, one of the townsfolk who was watching the scene with morbid fascination.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

He didn’t look back at her. He was too intent on the people and the tents. “Refugees from the fighting out near the capital.”

“I thought that was over weeks ago.” Lydia blinked, genuinely confused.

“That was then, wasn’t it?” He shrugged. “Word is that some senator or another thought the emperor was weak after the attempted coup.”

Attempted? Lydia hardly knew what to think of that.

“The new high general put an end to that thinking, though, I’d warrant.” The man grinned widely. “Corian’s not one to lose a trick. I marched with him before I retired, about fifteen cycles back. He was just a captain then, but one look at him and you knew he was destined for better things.”

High general? There’s no such position … Lydia just nodded, affixing a fascinated look onto her face. What in the burning skies is going on?

She allowed Brennan to pull her away, withdrawing to a safe distance from all the commotion, where they could observe it for themselves and still be able to escape if anyone took note of them. It didn’t seem likely that anyone would, however, as the attentions of every living soul were on the refugee column.

“Something’s gotten out of hand,” Brennan whispered. “This sort of thing won’t sit well with anyone, not so close to the capital.”

Lydia nodded absently, eyes flicking across the sea of dirty faces.

Conflict was commonplace along some of the empire’s borders; it was almost expected in certain areas, even inside the empire. Father had once told them that some areas were like that by design, lawless and violent. People who desired to be lawless and violent had somewhere to go, a place with fewer laws and fewer lawmakers.

The best of those people were on the frontier, expanding the empire and adding to the wealth of the whole. The worst tended to congregate in the pits, isolated sections of the empire that no one in power cared about. Deaths in these regions were used to distract people, to remind them of just how well they had things. She’d thought it horrible, but knew that those who died in places like that weren’t considered people by many in power, just numbers to be manipulated.

What she was seeing here, however, was something else. She wasn’t certain what it was just yet, but it was certainly something else.

“We have to find out what happened,” Lydia hissed back. “We have to.”

“Why?” Brennan scoffed. “Not our problem anymore, if it ever was. Father played his games, and Kayle did too. Look what it got them. Kayle shot dead like an animal, and Father …”

He trailed off, shaking his head. “It’s not our concern.”

Lydia slapped him.

“Brennan Scourwind!” She glowered at him. “People are dying ! Our family—”

“Is dead,” he hissed angrily back, one hand to the side of his face that was glowing with heat, “because they served the empire and it turned on them. Do you really want to be next?”

Lydia took a deep breath, closing her eyes against the tears that threatened to fall. Not sadness, not anger. She didn’t know how to describe what she felt, other than a great frustration at the world and its treatment of her family and everyone else within it.

“Do you remember what Father said about the strong and the weak?” she asked.

Brennan snorted. “Which thing he said? He spoke about such matters all the time. Don’t tell me you want to protect the weak because we’re strong , Lydia. We’re two teenagers with only a skimmer and some stolen provisions between us. We’re the definition of weak.”

“No. We are strong,” she said passionately. “We’re Scourwind. Our family has stood against the storm for generations. We earned our name in flesh and blood. You and I may be the weakest of our family, but that still makes us strong .”

She paused for a moment. “Father once told me that it is not the duty of the strong to protect the weak. Our duty is to take the weak and make them strong .”

Brennan looked to her for a moment, shaking his head. “I’m not going to turn you from this, am I?”