“Looks like your rebellion problem just got worse,” I said.

  “They’ll be crushed by morning,” she replied confidently. “The Tyrant doesn’t tolerate failure.”

  I turned back to her. “And yet he tolerates you?”

  Her expression darkened. I’d hit another nerve. This lady had a hell of a lot of sensitive spots.

  “You know,” I said, approaching her again, “I’m starting to think you’re just as trapped as everyone else is on this ice cube. The only difference is your cage has nicer furnishings.”

  “You know nothing about me,” she spat.

  “I do know a little bit,” I said, gesturing toward the chair we’d made such good use of. “I know the Tyrant keeps you on a short leash. I know you do his dirty work while he lives in luxury. And I’m betting I know what happens if you disappoint him.”

  Fear flickered across her face again. Real fear, not the calculated kind.

  I knelt beside her again. “Help me, Captain. Help me take him down. Free this colony—free yourself.”

  For a moment, I thought I’d reached her. Something human showed through the hard exterior.

  The moment was short-lived. She laughed at me. “Nice try, Tanner. But you XCU types are all the same—thinking everyone has a convenient change of heart when pressed. I serve the Tyrant because I believe in his vision. You’re just a footnote in the history of Jarl.”

  Footsteps pounded in the hallway outside. I was out of time.

  “We’ll continue this discussion later,” I promised, turning away without freeing her.

  I grabbed the rest of my clothing and the ironwood axe that had been confiscated, moving quickly to the window. One last time, I ran my eyes over Captain Jern, nude and chained to her own interrogation chair. She showed no signs of shyness.

  Then, I smashed the window and leapt into the cold night of Northaven.

  Chapter 23

  Ingrid Dahl’s home was more luxurious than I expected. Normally, XCU agents led an austere life, invisible among the rank and file of their chosen colony.

  But not Ingrid. She’d chosen to forsake her employers, and to live it up at the expense of the colonists. She was supposed to play the part of a guardian angel, but she’d obviously sold out to the Tyrant.

  Her house was large and imposing. After quietly breaking in on the ground floor, I found the main room featured expensive furnishings, and decadent fur rugs. By Jarl standards, this was no hovel. It was a palace.

  A fire burned low in the stone fireplace, casting flickering shadows on the walls. Steam rose from a doorway to my right—a bathroom? With hot water?

  I snuck to the bathroom door. The sound of water splashing confirmed my suspicions. XCU agent Ingrid Dahl was taking a frigging bath—no doubt congratulating herself upon my capture and delivery to Jern.

  I took a position beside the door, axe in hand, and waited.

  Five minutes later, she emerged wrapped in a plush robe. Her hair was damp, her skin flushed from the hot water. She looked tired—deep circles under her eyes, new lines on her face that hadn’t been there before.

  She sensed me a moment before I moved on her. Her hand dropped to where a weapon would normally be. But she was unarmed, freshly bathed, vulnerable.

  I pressed a sharp axe blade to her throat before she could call out. The edge creased the soft skin over her left carotid, promising to draw blood if tempted.

  “Hello, Ingrid,” I said softly. “Let’s talk.”

  To her credit, she didn’t flinch. Her eyes narrowed, assessing me and the situation with professional detachment.

  “Tanner?” she said, her tone steady despite the blade at her throat. “You have a remarkable talent for turning up where you’re least wanted.”

  “It’s kind of a specialty of mine,” I replied. “Don’t call for help. We both know how that ends.”

  She opened her hands and held them out as a gesture of compliance. “What do you want?”

  “Sit down.” I guided her to one of the plush chairs near the fireplace, keeping the axe pressed to her skin. When she was seated, I stepped back slightly, but kept the weapon in hand.

  “Your colony is burning,” I said. “The rebels have this town surrounded, outnumbered, and in another week, they’ll overrun the settlement.”

  “You know about the battle, then? And the retreat?”

  I knew nothing about such events, of course. Her words gave me a flare of hope, however. It sounded to me like the ambush with explosives had worked. I was proud of Kelda, Halverson, and the rest. It sounded like they’d pulled off their attack without me.

  “Of course,” I lied. “Why do you think I came here?”

  “But, before… never mind. Why have you come to my house?”

  I gestured to what were sumptuous furnishings—at least for Jarl. “You abandoned these people. You’re as guilty as the Tyrant himself—maybe even more so.”

  She glared at me. “If you’ve come to gloat, don’t bother. Kill me and be done with it.”

  “I’m not here to kill you,” I replied. “I’m here to offer you a deal.”

  She laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “A deal? You overestimate our options, Tanner.”

  “Do I? The captain of Northaven’s security trusts you.”

  She leaned back in the chair, studying me. “And what exactly are you proposing?”

  “It’s time to switch sides—again,” I said simply. “Join the rebellion. Help me get to the Tyrant. If you do, I’ll cover for you with XCU.”

  She licked her fine lips. She hadn’t expected such a fine bargain. “Switch sides… just like that? Betray the Tyrant, trust you, and embrace rabble who want my head on a pike next to his?”

  “Better than dying when they overrun this place.”

  “You don’t understand,” she said. “There is no switching sides. The Tyrant sees everything. Those drones that patrol the settlement? The robot guards? They’re his eyes and ears. He monitors every communication, every movement. Failure means death.”

  “So, you’re what—just following orders? A loyal servant?”

  Her eyes flashed with sudden anger. “I’m a prisoner, Tanner. Just like everyone else on this godforsaken rock. The only difference is my cage has better furnishings.”

  I relaxed my aggression slightly, interested now. “Tell me how you came to abandon XCU—to abandon Earth.”

  She sighed, running a hand through her damp hair. “When the colony ship arrived, the landing was... problematic. Technical failures, equipment damage. The Tyrant—he wasn’t the Tyrant then, just a lowly junior officer aboard the ship—he was left in orbit while the others scouted the planet. He decided to keep the ship up there, and shut everyone else out—he refused to land. It was a temporary measure, he said.”

  “But it wasn’t temporary.”

  She shook her head. “He discovered the ship’s systems could control the colony tech from orbit. The drones, the communications, the power grid. He realized he didn’t have to live down here with the rest of us. He could rule from above—to his great advantage.”

  “And you went along with this?”

  “Of course not—but the Tyrant is clever. He knew there was an XCU agent aboard. He sought me out, got others to rat on me. Eventually, he found me. I could either turn double-agent on his behalf, or I could die.”

  “So, every report you sent back to Earth was a lie?”

  She smiled and shook her head. “No. Not at all. I told the truth—mostly. But when he found me out, and he gave me two grim options, I submitted to his will. He’s clever, as I said.”

  “You should have requested extraction with your skullweb.”

  She shook her head, grimly. “XCU would never have allowed it. They don’t like to be blind on any colony world. What they did instead was send you.”

  I frowned, wondering for the first time how much my buddies back home on Earth really knew about what was happening here on Jarl. Did they know Ingrid had turned? Had they sent me out here anyway—without telling me? It was hard to know…

  “At first,” she continued, “he had a good vision for the colony. He envisioned an orderly, stable society, strictly managed but productive. But over time...” Her gaze drifted to the window, where the colony ship was visible as a bright point of light among the stars. “He changed. Or maybe the rise to power revealed what was already there in his personality.”

  “Let’s say I believe everything you’ve told me,” I said, “and that I won’t report it to XCU. What about my offer?”

  Ingrid studied me, her expression calculating. “You can’t trust anyone on that ship, you know that, right?”

  “I’m aware.”

  “All right… so… what’s in it for me if I help you?”

  “Amnesty. When this is over, I’ll make sure Earth knows you helped—that you were always loyal to XCU but there were a few hiccups. Maybe Brandt will give you a fresh start somewhere else, if that’s what you want.”

  “Pretty promises from a man with a blade to my throat,” she scoffed. “Why should I trust you?”

  “Because I’m your only chance at survival,” I replied bluntly. “The rebels will show you no mercy. The Tyrant will kill you for failure. I’m offering a third option.”

  She hesitated, thinking hard. “I’ve come up with a plan while we’ve been talking—but you’re not going to like it.”

  “What plan?”

  “First, let me tell you—it’s the only way. The only way anyone can get up to the ship. There are no other options.”

  I squinted at her. “Talk to me,” I said.

  And she did.

  Chapter 24

  Ingrid had been right. I didn’t like her plan. It involved me playing prisoner again and being shipped up in chains to the Tyrant’s ship.

  The restraints bit into my wrists with each jolt of the transport. The metal cuffs were unnecessarily tight, cutting off circulation to my hands. Blood from my split lip had dried in a crusty trail down my chin. The “capture” had been convincing—Jern’s enforcers hadn’t pulled their punches.

  “Comfortable?” Ingrid asked from across the transport’s narrow cabin. Her outfit was immaculate, not a wrinkle in sight. The silver insignia on her collar caught the light as she shifted.

  “Never better,” I replied, testing the restraints again. They were real, not the staged props Ingrid had discussed. “Was the beating part of our arrangement too?”

  Her smile broadened. “The Tyrant would expect nothing less, and his surveillance would have detected play-acting.”

  The transport hummed beneath us, approaching the shuttle landing pad. Through the small viewport, I could see Northaven shrinking below. Fires burned in the outlying districts, thin columns of smoke rising like accusing fingers.

  “Remember your part,” Ingrid said quietly. “Defiant but broken. Give him the satisfaction of thinking he’s won.”

  “I know how to play a role,” I said.

  The transport drone had no pilot. It settled onto a landing pad with a gentle thud. Outside, a sleek shuttle waited, its hull gleaming in the morning sun. It was clearly Earth-made, not cobbled together from colony materials. Another luxury the Tyrant kept for himself.

  Ingrid signaled to an enforcer. Two hulking men hauled me to my feet and dragged me toward the shuttle’s entry ramp. I stumbled intentionally, making a show of weakness. One of the enforcers shoved me forward, forcing me to fall to my knees.

  “On your feet, weakling Earthman!” he growled, yanking me upright.

  At the top of the ramp stood a figure that made my skin crawl. It wasn’t human—not entirely. Its proportions were wrong, limbs too long, joints bending at unnatural angles. The face was a crude approximation of humanity, with glowing red sensors where eyes should be. A robot, but not like the simple drones that patrolled the colony. This was something more advanced, more disturbing.

  “This is the prisoner?” the machine asked with human speech.

  Ingrid stepped forward, saluting. “Yes, Overseer. This infiltrator from Earth is a rebel leader. He was captured attempting reconnaissance in Northaven.”

  The robot—the Overseer—turned its glowing sensors toward me. I fought the urge to recoil. Something about it felt fundamentally wrong, like looking at a human face where the features had been subtly rearranged.

  “The Tyrant will be pleased,” it said. “He has been most eager to meet this one.”

  “I’ve included a full report on his capture and known activities,” Ingrid said, handing over a data tablet. “He’s been responsible for significant disruption to colony operations.”

  “Your diligence is noted, servant.” The Overseer took the tablet. “Board the shuttle. The Tyrant wishes to speak with you directly.”

  Ingrid’s face betrayed nothing, but I caught the slight tensing of her shoulders. This wasn’t part of our plan.

  “Of course,” she replied smoothly. “It’s always an honor.”

  The enforcers pushed me up the ramp and into the shuttle’s cabin. The interior was luxurious—real leather seats, polished metal fixtures, even decorative elements that served no functional purpose. Such extravagance would be unthinkable at the resource-starved colony.

  I was secured to a seat near the back, and Ingrid sat across from me. Four robot guards positioned themselves around the cabin, motionless except for the occasional swivel of their sensor arrays.

  The shuttle’s engines hummed to life, a deep vibration that rose in pitch until it was barely perceptible. My stomach lurched as we lifted off, the artificial gravity compensating a moment later.

  Through my viewport, Jarl spread out below us. The landscape was breathtaking from above—vast white plains and jagged mountain ranges stretching to the horizon. The single ocean near the equator was a dark slash across the white, partially frozen along its edges. Scattered settlements appeared as tiny black dots connected by thin lines—roads or transport routes.

  “First time seeing it from above?” Ingrid asked quietly.

  I nodded. “It’s... bigger than I imagined.”

  “And emptier,” she added. “Ninety percent of the population lives within two hundred miles of the sole ocean. The rest is too cold to sustain life.”

  As we climbed higher, the curve of the planet became visible. The atmosphere thinned to a delicate blue sheen along the horizon. Stars appeared, impossibly bright without air to diffuse their light.

  And then I saw it—the colony ship New Horizon. It loomed ahead, growing larger with each passing minute. The ship was massive, a city in space designed to carry thousands of colonists and all the equipment needed to establish a new world. It should have been dismantled upon arrival, its components forming the foundation of the colony. Instead, it orbited Jarl like a watchful predator.

  “Impressive, isn’t it?” Ingrid said, following my gaze. “Twenty thousand metric tons. Self-sustaining life support systems. Enough space to house ten thousand colonists during transit.”

  “How many live aboard now?” I asked.

  Her voice dropped. “The Tyrant. His personal staff. Almost all the crew are robots.”

  The waste was staggering. Resources that could have saved lives on the colony, squandered to maintain one man’s orbital palace.

  The shuttle approached a docking bay near the ship’s midsection. Mechanical arms extended to guide us in, and with a series of gentle clanks, we were secured to the colony ship.

  “Remember,” Ingrid whispered as the airlock cycled. “Don’t screw me over. Whatever happens, stay alive long enough to complete your mission.”

  Before I could respond, the robot guards moved forward, taking up positions around me. The shuttle door slid open, revealing a reception party of more robots—all similar to the Overseer, all with those same disturbing proportions and glowing sensors.

  “Ingrid Dahl will proceed to the command deck,” one announced. “The prisoner will be processed and prepared.”

  Ingrid gave me one last unreadable look before being escorted in a different direction. I was hauled to my feet and marched through the airlock.

  I knew, of course, what her real plans were. If I succeeded in killing the Tyrant, she’d ride my promised ticket back to XCU. If, on the other hand, I was killed, she’d stay loyal to the man who controlled this ship.

  Either way, she figured she couldn’t lose.

  The interior of the colony ship struck me immediately with its warmth. After weeks on the frozen surface, the ship’s controlled climate felt almost tropical. The corridors were wide and well-lit, with actual decorative elements—paintings, sculptures, even plants growing in recessed alcoves. The walls were paneled with real wood, the floors covered with plush carpeting that muffled our footsteps. The artwork, such as it was, mostly depicted lovely young women.

  Hmm…

  Every detail spoke of high-technology and obscene luxury, especially knowing what conditions were like on the planet below.

  A maintenance corridor branched off to the right, secured with what looked like a basic keycard lock. As we passed by, human staff members averted their eyes when they saw my restraints.

  Was I to be pitied by slaves? It seemed that I was.

  The robots brought me to a large circular chamber with multiple doors leading off it. A processing area of some kind. In the center stood some kind of examination table with restraints built in.

  “Prepare the prisoner,” one robot ordered.

  Two others moved forward, releasing my restraints only to secure me to the table. I didn’t resist—not yet. I needed to learn more, to understand the ship’s layout before making any moves.

  “Identity confirmed,” a disembodied robot announced from above. “Subject: Dane Tanner. Status: Hostile. Threat level: Severe.”

  So… they knew who I was. Not surprising, but not ideal, either.

  “Begin decontamination and preparation,” the lead robot ordered.

  What followed was a clinical and humiliating process. My clothing was cut away. My body was scanned, prodded, and thoroughly cleaned with antiseptic solutions that burned on contact. They treated me like a specimen rather than a person, their metal grippers cold against my skin.