The Emperor's New Clothes (Royce Ree #1) Read Free

Use
what you’ve got, I say. Second the Imperial left, we played the
“even the Empire buys from us” card to the hilt.
    The Baldasshi ended up putting in an
order for six hundred warships. Cash! Their planet exports
textiles, for fucks sake! We’re in the wrong line of business, I’m
telling you. Organic textiles!
    Anyways, so Baldessh’s space navy was
created two years ago. It’s mostly starry-eyed recruits and
engineers. I mean, the planet has Peacekeepers, not soldiers, you
know? None of them are used to any conflict more severe than a
domestic disturbance.
    -Novawings Trade Cartel Sales
Representative
    Conversation overheard at spaceport
dive-bar, Baga-V
EXIT STAIRWELL, INSTITUTE OF
RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT, BALDESSH
    Royce willed the room to be empty of
guards. And it was, in a manner of speaking—three bodies, in
Baldasshi service uniforms, lay face-up on the floor, pools of
crimson spreading out from under them.
    Double-tap to the back of the head,
execution style.
    The Baldasshi hadn’t stood a chance. An
unnamed sadness rose in Royce before he could stop it. Different
uniform, different planet, but… He allowed himself exactly two
breaths before he caught the feeling and forced it back into the
part of his mind labeled “not mission”.
    “We’ve got a…situation…,” said Royce.
“Nothing unexpected, but I’m going to cut the lights. Backups will
come on, but it’ll make us harder to spot.”
    He felt Les nod.
    “No unscripted motions.”
    Again, he felt Les nod in acquiescence.
Satisfied, Royce pulled a vibra-knife from his pocket, flicked it
open, and sawed through the filter. From there, it was only an
awkward foot-and-a-half for him to reach the room’s primary
lighting conduit.
    The world went dark.
    Somewhere, Royce could hear the buzz of
backup chemlights coming on. And a rustle of cloth, too loud, right
beside him. Les was drawing his lab-shirt off, sculpted abs coming
into view a millimeter at a time.
    “What are you doing?” Royce’s voice came
out unnaturally hoarse.
    “Too baggy,” said Les. “Might get
caught.” He was right, but at the moment, Royce required all of his
focus on following the exit plan.
    “Keep it on,” he said. “You’ll need
clothes out on the street.”
    Les may or may not have bought the
explanation, but he stopped trying to strip, and lowered the shirt
over his half-exposed torso.
    Royce waited two more breaths in case
his ex-husband decided to do some other crazy thing. Then he pulled
himself out of the vent, fibrillous strands of filter-material
giving way before his vibra-blade.
    Les was close behind him. Luckily, both
Les and Les’s shirt passed the vent’s mouth without incident.
    Royce moved swiftly, counting steps. The
room wasn’t absolutely dark, there was a thin seam of light coming
in around the door to the corridor.
    Royce made it two-thirds of the way
across the guard-room floor before he felt Les grab his arm, the
touch going through Royce like electricity.
    “Blood,” whispered Les. Royce didn’t
reply, still counting in his head. His silence was sufficient; Les
drew one shuddering breath, and let go of Royce’s hand.
    He heard another rustle of cloth. It was
hard to make out in the darkness, but he thought Les knelt, or
crouched, for a few moments. Then he stood up again.
    Royce started moving forward again.
    Soon they were out of the room, and in a
featureless corridor that led straight to the service entrance. The
backup lights bathed the room in a sickly green color.
    “They Kova are gone,” said Les. “We
heard them leaving . When did they get in , Royce?”
    “That’s…”
    Les leaned forward.
    “…not our concern,” finished Royce.
“ Our concern is getting the hell out of here alive, and with
that hypernova-grade shitstorm you’ve got in your hand. We have
fifty-one seconds. On my mark, we’re going to book it for the
door.”
    But Les shook his head.
    “ What ?”
    “This is as far as I go,” said Les,