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    Living in Caine's Hold
    Living in Caine's Hold
    Living in Caine's Hold
    Ebook410 pages5 hours

    Living in Caine's Hold

    By Lazette Gifford

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    About this ebook

    Kostin Helena has been assassinated!

    The death of such an influential man affects not only the powerful Five Families that control the world of Caine’s Hold, but also creates trouble for the off-world appointed Chief Magistrate, Tartina Altay. While she works to contain the riots and worse that tear apart the capital city, Baran Helena, Kostin’s unpopular successor, pushes to take command of the entire world, no matter what the cost.

    However, Kostin had a second son.

    Kostanos Helena escaped Helena House the night his father died. Addicted to the drug Soft, and living precariously as a street singer, Kostanos survives because Baran believes his brother has escaped off-world, while Altay is convinced the younger Helena must be dead.

    Unfortunately, as long as Helena House stays in Baran’s hands, nothing will get better, and it may be that Kostanos is the only hope of survival for Caine’s Hold.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherA Conspiracy of Authors
    Release dateAug 5, 2016
    ISBN9781936507627
    Living in Caine's Hold
    Author

    Lazette Gifford

    Lazette is an avid writer as well as the owner of Forward Motion for Writers and the owner/editor of Vision: A Resource for Writers.It's possible she spends too much time with writers.And cats.

    Read more from Lazette Gifford

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      Book preview

      Living in Caine's Hold - Lazette Gifford

      Tatrina Altay considered letting the damned machine scream until hell froze over rather than getting out of bed to answer the late night call.

      Then she remembered that it never got that cold in this particular hell.

      She knew that an urgent message this late at night to the Chief Magistrate of Caine's Hold didn't promise anything good. She cursed the unpleasant squeal of the computer's commline (her personal choice so she didn't sleep through it), and viciously fought her way out of the warm covers and into a robe. As the top representative from the Inner Worlds' Council on Caine's Hold, Chief Magistrate Tatrina Altay received many late night invitations to disasters she didn't dare miss.

      The only comp terminal sat against the far wall in the apartment's living room. By removing any commlink from her bedside, Altay avoided the embarrassment of falling asleep in the middle of conversations or hanging up and slipping right under her blankets again, forgetting those disasters. After a few years on Caine's Hold, even the news of another murder or kidnapping became less startling.

      Damn, uncivilized world. Caine's Disaster. She considered writing a memorandum to the Governor, suggesting an official name change.

      Not a chance in hell of going back to sleep with that incessant blare and the headache it created. Tatrina mumbled another tired curse as the lights automatically came on in the living room. The clock read barely past midnight as she dropped into the familiar soft curve of the chair, and slapped on the commline.

      This sure as hell better be important --

      Go look out your window and tell me what you see on Helena Hill.

      She blinked, cold fear chasing out the heat of anger from a heartbeat before. This wasn't a wild-eyed maniac on the line or even some night copyist who couldn't remember the file-lock code. Instead, she faced Hart, her personal liaison to Governor Castilian and the rest of the local government. Although not appointed from the Inner Worlds Council as she was, Tatrina still considered the man her unofficial second-in-command.

      His dark face and brown eyes looked back at her devoid of emotion, which meant there was trouble beyond even the usual local scope of disaster.

      Helena Hill.

      Damn! No!

      Tatrina leapt from the chair with an adrenaline rush of energy and reached the window in three quick steps. One hand slapped against the control, and the opaque faded away. The view of the city stretched out below her apartment window and appeared far more active now than it had been when she retired two hours earlier.

      She reluctantly looked up over the city to the northeast and Helena Hill.

      A thin band of small blue lights moved along a path and heading toward the highest peak, barely visible with the house shields dimmed to a diffused sparkle on that small sector.

      Oh damn, damn, damn! she shouted. the neighbors might have heard her. It wouldn't be the first time. Her hands caught at the edges of her robe, twisting the cloth in pure frustration. Any chance that's one of the boys they're burying up there?

      Not from the amount of the trouble already spreading through the Pit. Word leaked down there even before the shield dimmed. The settlement is preparing for war, Hart answered from the computer. He sounded weary now. I can't imagine this reaction if Baran died, and definitely not for Kostanos. The Governor is not available. He's at Castilian House.

      Running for cover, Tatrina said. Panicked, half-formed decisions began rushing haphazardly through her brain. She wasn't at all tired now. How could someone as smart as Kostin ever trust a half-Castilian as his heir? Especially one as irrational as Baran.

      I doubt he had any choice, the way Kostanos turned out. Maybe Kostin wanted Baran old enough to get out of the House and into some off-world position before he married again. He couldn't bring a new child into Helena House with another grown heir in residence -- and he couldn't just run Baran out, not with the blood-ties to Castilian House.

      True, she said.

      She stared at the blue lights marking the funeral procession. They would bring the shields full up again soon, or risk one of the other Houses taking advantage of the weakened defenses. Tatrina wished them to be too slow. She suddenly wanted Helena House gone with Kostin.

      Kostanos only survived because he never showed any ability or interest in House politics, Hart continued, undeterred by her silence. Besides, he didn't have another House on his mother's side, pressing for him to displace Baran as Heir Apparent. I'm babbling. None of this matters anymore, does it?

      Years of trying to second-guess Kostin all thrown away. Her hands began trembling as her mind comprehended the magnitude of what this change meant. This was the start of a disaster that with more than local political in importance. She had people to protect; that was her job. Random thoughts began to finally coalesce into plans. Call in all shifts of our personnel, Hart. If anyone complains, remind them that they're safer at the Tower than anywhere else. If they want to bring families, tell them to bring supplies as well. We can open the cells for sleeping quarters for the next couple days. We aren't holding anyone for any major crimes right now. Check out who is down in the cells, and toss out anyone not related to Helena or Castilian Houses. I want to talk to the people from those Houses before we set them free. See if the Port Guard can loan us a few special weapons groups for protection.

      You aren't coming in? He sounded surprised and worried.

      I better go straight up to Helena House, she answered. Tatrina finally came back to the desk and leaned forward. Hart looked back at her while his fingers started sending keyed messages. You don't suppose Baran could really mourn his father --

      And pull an Aristes? Go suicidal, and drop all power to the House shields? Hart stopped typing and brushed a hand over his dark chin and darker stubble. Not damned likely. We never get that kind of luck. Be careful up there. I don't trust Baran. Besides, the Vidline crews are out already, and you don't want to get caught by those scavengers.

      Everyone's ahead of us on this one tonight. Any break in the shields? Have we seen something besides the lights on the hill?

      Nothing. Whatever happened, it was neat and quick. Call me when you come back out. Don't spend over an hour inside, Tina. More than that, and we will breach that damn, excellent security Kostin always boasted about.

      I'm sure he doesn't care much anymore. Hart's concern for her safety calmed her. Tatrina wasn't alone in this, even though she was the ranking law official in this ridiculous, little settlement. I'll be quick and careful. Get my office up and running and prime everyone for a full emergency. This is going to be a long night.

      Hart gave her one forlorn nod as the screen went dead. The line immediately began to scream for attention. She keyed the sound off and checked the queue to make certain nothing seriously urgent needed her attention. She was just lucky that Hart reached her before anyone else. She saw three calls from Vidline reporters and a call from her ex-husband, probably demanding special protection.

      Spineless child. Well, he lived on Ross Hill. He could get protection from that Family if he really needed it. She had an entire settlement to protect from itself.

      Fools, fools, fools on every side. The Inner Worlds Council created this mess. She'd heard tales of deals made, payments given, and even of Earth held as ransom during those tense years when the Earth Government and the too powerful Families finally came to blows over control. If the IWC hadn't stepped in The Families might even have won dominion over the mother world. Instead, with outside forces pitted against them, they accepted retreat, but one without loss of power.

      Perhaps this even appeared wise, letting those illustrious and influential exiles locate on one world where they could be watched. She even knew why the IWC stood back and let the Caine's Hold Houses carve out their illicit empires in the new colonies. It was, in theory, best to let the Families do this work because someone would deal weapons and drugs and whatever other vices men wanted to buy. The Families didn't allow upstarts to infringe on their business. They were, in IWC eyes, better than strangers and marginally easier to deal with, especially since the Caine's Hold Houses knew the IWC would take action if they became a too much of a problem or looked as though they might be preparing the sort of insurrection they tried on earth.

      None of those other IWC officials actually had to live with the Houses as she did. Fools, she thought again, but that was an old, useless chant she repeated at every late night call.

      Tatrina hurried back to her bedroom, giving the warm bed one last miserable glance. She ravaged her closet, searching for something that showed respect for the dead but didn't insult his successor.

      The death of Kostin Helena was an unfortunate, and unwelcome, catastrophe for Caine's Hold. He should have lasted at least another fifty years as head of Helena House, with all the stability that came from a firm hand. The ripples of this death would affect people far beyond this world, but at least that trouble was the concern of others. Tatrina expected a quick and devastating reaction here unless government forces could somehow gain control of the situation. Tatrina Altay knew the local laws and customs of Caine's Hold too well to hope for the impossible.

      With her best black suit on, she paused to look into the mirror. Almond shaped brown eyes stared back from a thin, tan face. She hadn't been this old last time she looked.

      Sirens screamed past the apartment building, reminding the Chief Magistrate of more important, and less personal, problems. She pulled her long-sleeved black tunic into place and ran a quick comb through short dark hair. Then she stopped and slapped on enough makeup to make certain it didn't appear as though she rushed to Helena House to meet with Baran. Politics. Everyone would scramble for power points tonight, and she had her own position to maintain.

      What could she expect from Baran Helena? After years of experience, she had learned how to deal with Kostin. She recalled how upset he was at the death of his mistress. He kept their child, Kostanos, at Helena House for no apparent reason except the boy was his son. That sort of sentimentality was rare among the Five Families. Then the illusion of kindness had been shattered when she learned how Kostin instigated the Aristes House Massacre a decade before her arrival. Damn these people!

      Tatrina paused at the living room window, noting that the shields were full up on Helena House again. She keyed her own window back to dark and started for the door.

      Tatrina suddenly wondered where Kostanos Helena was tonight because he sure as hell wasn't safe in Helena House now.

      Then she wondered about her own safety.

      Chapter Two

      Kostanos rushed up two flights of stairs and paused, listening for pursuit. Nothing yet, though the silence didn't alleviate his fears. He pressed his back against the polished wooden wall and furtively inched forward, scanning the curve of the semicircular hall ahead. The passage remained empty -- as long as you didn't count the strategically placed vidcams and distant eyes they represented. He hoped few of the House Guards took the time to monitor inner House security tonight.

      With no one in sight, he dared to activate the window to the right at the top of the stairs. The House comp would log the action, but it shouldn't draw any direct attention. He stared across the tops of night-shadowed trees as a line of shimmering lights marked a seldom-used stone path. Unnatural, blue illumination danced fitfully toward the crest of the hill, like ghosts escorting the dead home.

      Kostanos grimaced at his unfortunate inclination to focus on poetic imagery rather than reality. The tendency often brought him trouble. This time, it could get him killed, especially if he stood here much longer. Once that entourage reached the mausoleum, Baran would note his younger brother's absence. Kostanos knew enough to fear for his life now that Baran held control of Helena House.

      He abandoned the grim sight of his father's funeral procession and darted down the long, curving hall. Panic gave him the impetus of movement that clarity of thought hadn't managed. He raced past decorative chairs and end tables, and past the ancient, oil-painted faces of people who had never imagined life among the stars. Kostanos always felt as though they appeared surprised to find themselves so far from home in both time and space.

      Kostanos slowed to keep from sliding past his own door. The wax-slick floors discouraged precipitous actions. That was a purposeful form of protection for people who had reason to fear even their closest associates. Or family.

      The marching lights would soon coalesce into a larger globe at the hilltop. So little time.

      Kostanos slapped his hand hard against the palm lock and threw himself inside --

      Or would have if the door had opened. He banged his shoulder against the imported wood with enough force to numb his arm and wrench his left wrist.

      Damn!

      The word echoed down the silent hall. Kostanos took a quick, calming breath and glanced up at the hidden vidcam above his door. He had probably looked amusing when he hit that door. Baran would laugh when he saw the playback. What Kostanos did next, though, would shock his brother.

      He pulled a thin, sophisticated probe from the sleeve of his dark silk shirt and with it Kostanos -- the dreamer, the poet, the musician -- expertly bypassed the palm lock. He opened the door in less time than it took most professionals.

      Then he slipped the probe back into his sleeve, gave his best theatrical bow to the vidcam, and slipped inside the room.

      Panicked still, of course. Kostanos knew why the door to his suite remained locked to his touch. Kostin Helena's sudden death was no mischance, and Baran wasn't overlooking the possibility of also ridding himself of a younger brother he despised.

      He'd known his life was in danger from the day a Castilian employee tossed the explosive into a shop that killed his mother. Kostanos's breath still caught with a whisper of terror as he recalled the horrifying image of his mother's brutal death, and once again phantom pain shot like needles through his right arm, making him awkward when he needed speed. Not real pain the medtechs kept telling him. That injury healed a decade ago, leaving only a long thin scar from wrist to elbow. His father had declined suggestions to have the symbol of the trauma removed, and he had told his son that the scar stayed to remind Kostanos of his enemies. Maybe Kostin even meant to hint that he should not trust Baran Castilian Helena.

      Kostanos hadn't needed the reminder since Baran never made any pretense of brotherly love. The younger Helena avoided confrontations with Baran by concentrating on his love of poetry and music, naively believing that his lack of interest in House politics was a shield. His precarious position in life had again become shockingly apparent only five years ago when he overheard two House Guards casually remark at Kostanos Helena's surprising survival to the age of fifteen. Listening, he realized his future -- his life -- depended on knowledge of the House activities he normally avoided.

      Kostanos did know how to keep secrets, which was an essential instinct for anyone who survived within House hierarchies. His greatest secret was his uncanny ability with computers. Even in a house as security intensive as this one, Kostanos still kept his forays into the files concealed. He did nothing to draw the attention of his older, distrustful brother, who was by far the most dangerous person in the estate.

      Kostanos suspected that his father never took Baran seriously enough.

      Kostanos had known that thieves and assassins sometimes donated their precious work-related knowledge to computer records. The comp files proved very detailed, and the abilities of thieves fascinated him. With the help of those instructions he began preparing for the day when no protection stood between him and his brother.

      Half-brother. Kostanos was, in fact, the bastard half-brother, as though traditional marriage meant anything on Caine's Hold. Baran had used that appellation as a taunt back when Kostanos was still immature enough to think it mattered. The words had stung until he finally realized that Kostin never even loved Baran's mother. The marriage to Mariamma Castilian was solely political in nature, an uneasy alliance that had suspended an ongoing feud with origins clear back on Earth. For a time, the streets remained safe for even high ranking Helenans and Castilians.

      Kostin sent Mariamma Castilian back to her own House the same day Kostanos's mother died. Baran, the oldest son by a decade, remained at Helena House. The angry, pretentious boy quickly grew into a sullen, short-tempered man.

      Baran now inherited Helena House with her wealth, her starships, and her feuds with the other Houses. Kostanos wished him luck of it. He just wanted out.

      It was time to go. Kostanos had thrown a few essential belongings onto the bed. His hand brushed against the battered harp case he refused to leave behind. A travel bag stuffed with cheap, nondescript clothing and a few untraceable jewels lay next to the small harp. They had glittered in the soft light before he put them in a hidden pocket in the travel bag.

      His hand patted the vest he wore to make certain of the finger-thin pocketcomp he always carried. No one in the House knew he owned the custom-made device. Within the small comp's memory lay most of the major House codes and other significant secrets he had acquired during the last few years. With this piece of equipment, he could buy his way into any of the other Houses if there was another Family he trusted.

      Unfortunately, even this Lindy-made computer couldn't access the independent security computer in Helena House, and override his brother's new orders that canceled his palm lock code. Kostanos didn't have the time to make that side-trip into the heart of Helena House to do the work by hand. He would have to escape the harder way, using the probe on door controls more sophisticated than the one leading to his suite.

      Quickly. Stop daydreaming and move quickly now.

      He threw himself down on the edge of his bed and his fingers pried at the intricately carved headboard. A small piece of wood slipped upward displaying a hollowed cavity in the expensive wood. The case he retrieved from this hiding place held items necessary to make a permanent escape. Two of the tiny vials contained molecular dyes. The first would turn his light brown hair to jet black. The second, more dangerous and experimental, would darken his gray eyes as well. Face paint would disguise what he couldn't immediately change, and an illegal skin acid would take care of his fingerprints. There was nothing he could do about his actual gene coding, of course, except to stay away from scanners.

      He had planned this escape for a long time. Despite what everyone thought, Kostanos hadn't grown up blind, deaf, and stupid in the House of Kostin Helena. He had just never cared to put himself into suicidal competition with his older brother. If he had once shown any interest or skills, other than in music, the Castilians would have seen to his death. Mariama and her family spent decades planning for the day when their half-Castilian kinsman would bring them Helena House, and a No-House bastard wasn't going to stand in their way.

      They would be celebrating tonight, but only because they didn't know Baran. He only acted for himself.

      Back on his feet, Kostanos gave the room one last, lingering glance. He was about to abandon all his previous life, the good with the bad. Discarded childhood toys sat on a shelf above the imported Earth-wood bed. The two closets overflowed with the best clothing, all of them too expensive to take with him now. Rows of ancient, and often priceless, books lined the walls. His father had denied him nothing -- except a future.

      In that last moment, he almost dared fate and considered taking the little holograph of his mother off his desk. Instead, he retrieved her locket out of the drawer where he had kept it hidden for years, and pushed the chain into the case with the clothing. He put the harp case on his back and slung the clothes bag over it, hiding the harp as best he could. Then he left the room, knowing he would never return.

      He bowed to the vidcam again and walked around the curve of the hall, gaining speed as he headed for the stairwell. A glance out the still window showed lights in a bright globe on the hilltop. The diffused glow from the city looked more inviting. Sometimes he forgot that what he saw of the city wasn't all real. Part of Helena House's security included a computer-generated and real-time simulation of the world beyond the estate's powerful shields and worked it into the powerful layer that protected them from the world beyond. Looking outward, the projection appeared flawless, but people looking inward saw only the bright glare that formed both protection and privacy within the House estates.

      Tonight, though, the shielding around the mausoleum had lessened long enough to declare a significant change in Helena House. People knew what an unannounced House funeral meant. Vidline reporters would quickly swarm the gate, demanding answers. Commlines throughout the city would whisper as Suki, Castilian, Ross, and Aristes all tried to learn the truth. Was Kostin truly dead? Not one of the boys?

      Not Kostanos, who unexpectedly survived although disliked by an aggressive brother, and mistrusted, though loved, by his commanding father?

      In those other four Houses, people would spend precious hours deciding new strategies now that Kostin no longer mattered. The uncertainty of dealing with Baran would leave most of them uneasy. Kostanos suspected he wasn't the only one who would regret this change.

      As he watched the funeral, Kostanos saw a misshapen silhouette move away from the others and start down the long path from the mausoleum. By the sheer bulk of that shadow, he knew Baran's pet henchman, Slit, was heading for the House. The imminent appearance of the man finally made Kostanos nervous for new reasons. He had secretly hoped he could talk his way past the regular House Guards, if necessary. He harbored no belief he could do the same with Baran's favorite. Besides, that maniac was so far off base that even Kostin voiced his disapproval.

      That disapproval had probably gotten Kostin Helena killed. Baran liked his new companion, and if his father insisted on a choice ... well, Kostin should have known better. Baran was very much like the friends he brought home, with perhaps even fewer morals.

      Time to go.

      Kostanos looked up at the nearest security vidcam again and smiled, all part of the performance. He was a damned good actor. That was another art he picked up here, among perpetual liars, with their painted smiles and stone hearts.

      "You know, you really don't have to come looking for me, brother. He gave his best oh-so-bored look at the vidcam and wondered if Baran would even see through it this time. I can take care of myself, and now that father's gone I lost my last ties here. I'll leave the world before you can find me. So good luck with the Helena Empire. This is all yours. You win now that you've finally done what your Castilian House cousins always wanted. I'm not as stupid as they are. I know they aren't going to remain happy for long. Maybe after they realize how you've betrayed their trust, they'll find the chance to blow you to hell like they did my mother."

      He gave one last, dramatic bow, though the movement proved difficult with the pain in his right arm again. Then he turned, and darted back down the stairs. He wanted to just walk away, but he wasn't about to risk his life for another bit of good theatrics.

      Silent, immense Helena House felt as cold, empty, and lifeless as that crypt where they would leave Kostin.

      Damn poetry again.

      He went down one floor, then another, and finally reached the last, taking the steps two at a time. The soft-soled shoes Kostanos wore made a sound like ghosts following him --

      Coming for him? That sound did not come from his shoes.

      Just as Kostanos reached the main floor, Slit raced into the main foyer, heading for the stairs. He didn't know how the man traversed the hilltop to House so quickly. Kostanos stopped where he was, standing in the damned formal hall with all the paintings, free-form statues, and ancient things the Family collected. He took four quick steps away from the stairs, but he had neither the time nor a place to hide.

      Slit bolted into the narrow room, nearly colliding with a statue. Kostanos didn't want to get tackled by that ungainly mass of flesh. Years of planning, all useless --

      Baran's friend almost started up the stairwell before he spotted Kostanos standing off to the side. The man had trouble stopping that much bulk in its forward momentum. When Slit grabbed the banister, the ancient wood groaned and cracked under the strain. He came to an ungraceful stop, one knee on the stairs.

      He'll take that out of your pay, you know, Kostanos said, and still maintained his bored, rich-kid look. He suspected he wasted the show on those little, pig eyes nearly lost in folds of flesh. Haven't you heard the speech about how priceless this House is?

      Go ahead, ye smart-assed kid. Slit grinned, showing several missing teeth. Go past me.

      Slit didn't pant, even after that long run from the family burial vault. The smile, showing yellow and chipped teeth, did nothing to improve Slit's beady-eyed face. Mounds of flesh rippled whenever he moved his lips. Spikes of eyebrows stood out like bristles above his watery, brown eyes, and patches of dark, wiry hair stood an inch high in random spots on his head -- both on top and the face. Baran's new friend wasn't only ugly, but he gloried in it. Slit was absolutely the most repulsive being Baran had ever brought home.

      Slit took a step toward him. Kostanos instinctively took a step back.

      Ye really think ye can out run me, rich boy? he snarled.

      I think a thirty-year-old, three-legged rat could out run a blob like you.

      Slit's eyes widened. Kostanos hadn't expected the man to be sensitive. Slit took another step forward; Kostanos took another step back. Even if he slipped past Slit, he still had to bypass the front door's security lock. Somehow he suspected the palm lock wouldn't work any better than the one at his room, even though it opened to let him in a few minutes before. Baran wanted him trapped inside.

      There wasn't enough time to use his probe, not with Slit so close. Damn the House security computer that kept even him from slipping a weapon into the building. There hadn't been time to go down to the arsenal and grab a registered laser pistol, which might have stopped Slit.

      Ye hurt Baran's feelings, ye slip away like that. Give the family a bad name, you don't even stay for your father's burying. Look bad, even if you are just a bastard.

      Baran overused that line years ago, Slit. Kostanos grinned as he held to the act of bored rich boy since it was the only part of the plan still working. You can give my farewells to my brother for me. Remind him for me that there's another meaning to the term bastard. It's the closest to a compliment I could think to call him.

      Warning bells went off in Kostanos's head as Slit's eyes narrowed, his mouth shaping into a snarl. Wrong thing to say. This one really did love his brother.

      He took another step backward before Slit reacted, but it wasn't enough. Slit moved incredibly fast, pulling a knife from beneath his vest as he surged forward. The weapon hadn't set off any alarms, so it came directly from Baran through the house registry. Kostanos didn't think his brother trusted anyone that well.

      He felt no surprise that Slit could use the street weapon. The skill went with his name. What did surprise Kostanos was how quickly that mountain of flesh could move. Just before Slit reached him, he realized the answer. Hypered: implants that tripled speed if the person's body could stand the stress of the massive calories burnt. Slit had the body to spare.

      Using the bag of clothes, Kostanos blocked the wild swing of the knife just before they collided. He let Slit's momentum carry them both back a few meters across the slick floor. Kostanos

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