Nicale made a small, frightened noise but did not otherwise move. Ingray had a sharp, clear memory of the business end of the commander’s gun in her vision. Her breathing tightened and once again everything else seemed to fall away. Having the Rejection would do the Omkem very little good—even if it was genuine, the questions Garal had raised would likely be seized on by Hwaeans eager for any advantage against the Federacy just now. And maybe having the bowl wouldn’t do the Omkem much good, either, maybe—probably—Hwaean System Defense would fight on regardless, and the First Assembly would find a new place to meet, and vote into law some other vestige to open those meetings with.
This Prolocutor Dicat would gain very little by opening the case—some time, at most, before the next demand, or until the commander decided eir life wasn’t worth preserving. But the Assembly Bell was important. It was part of the history of Hwae. It was what set official First Assembly sessions apart from other sorts of meetings. Without it, the First Assembly wasn’t really the First Assembly. But then, would some other group of people using it be able to legally claim to be the real First Assembly? No, Ingray was sure it didn’t work that way. But it was part of how it worked. If the Omkem couldn’t put their hands on the Assembly itself, this was possibly a workable second choice. Or at least the best option facing Commander Hatqueban right now.
Delay might help Hwae System Defense. So the prolocutor—and Ingray and Nicale for that matter—would want to delay the opening of that case for as long as possible. And the most unarguable delay would be the prolocutor flatly refusing to open the case.
And if Prolocutor Dicat died refusing to open that case, e would leave a valuable political legacy for eir successor. Ingray had no doubt Netano would do her best to capitalize on Ingray’s own death in very much the same way. Nicale—well, the senior Nicale Tai had time to choose a new heir, after all. They were all three of them disposable, at least in a certain sense. Replaceable.
Prolocutor Dicat hadn’t moved. Hadn’t even breathed. Everything seemed frozen, time slowed in the face of Ingray’s racing, terrified thoughts, that gun pointed at Nicale. Prolocutor Dicat had been irritable and unpleasant. E was uncomfortable, likely in pain and no doubt frightened. But e was—e always had been—a shrewd politician. E had surely already seen what Ingray had just realized, that the best move now, for emself and for Hwae, was to let Commander Hatqueban shoot Nicale, and then Ingray, to steadfastly refuse to open that case. To make the commander break it. Which she certainly would, but not until she was forced to, not until Ingray, Nicale, and Prolocutor Dicat were all dead.
“I won’t open the case,” said Prolocutor Dicat.
And without even realizing she’d intended it, Ingray grabbed the gilded decanter beside her and flung it at the case on its plinth.
The lights went out. Something flashed, made a loud bang, and someone screamed. Ingray. Ingray had screamed, and thrown herself off the bench onto the floor, though she didn’t remember actually doing it. More gunshots, deafening in the enclosed space. Ingray lay facedown on the cold tile and gasped, breathless, heart pounding. Her knee hurt, she must have wrenched it coming off the bench.
Silence. Then light that seemed to swing wildly. “Chenns!” Commander Hatqueban’s voice. “Chenns, hear. Chenns!”
“I good condition,” replied Excellency Chenns. “Say I told you so the helmet.”
Still flat on the floor, Ingray dared to raise her head. Commander Hatqueban stood nearby, a light in her hand, and beside her knelt Excellency Chenns. Blood ran down the side of his face. “The armor absent the seem,” replied Commander Hatqueban. “Communications the condition absent operate. The mechs absent motion.”
The mechs absent motion. The mechs weren’t moving, the commander must have meant. Communications had been cut off somehow. Ingray pushed herself up, just a bit.
“Don’t move, Excellency Aughskold,” ordered Commander Hatqueban sharply, in Yiir. “You almost got Excellency Chenns killed.”
Not me, Ingray wanted to protest. All the guns had been on the commander’s side, after all. Instead she said, “Where’s Prolocutor Dicat? Where’s Nicale?”
“Here.” Prolocutor Dicat’s voice. Commander Hatqueban swung her light in eir direction.
Prolocutor Dicat knelt on the floor beside Nicale’s prone form. Eir hand on Nicale’s shoulder, and in the dim, erratic light it took Ingray a moment to realize that there was blood between eir fingers. Nicale didn’t move, and her breath came shallow and gasping.
She’d been shot. My fault, thought Ingray, in panicked horror. Nicale had been shot because of what Ingray had done. Now she might die.
No. No, if Ingray had done nothing, both Ingray and Nicale would likely have ended up dead. And Nicale wasn’t dead yet. She was just … Oh fucking ascended saints, Ingray thought. Don’t let her die because of me.
“There’s an aid kit in the back of the gallery,” Prolocutor Dicat said, icily calm.
Without a word, Chenns got to his feet and walked up the ramp to the gallery. A mech lay unmoving beside the ramp, as though it had tumbled off and not had a chance to right itself, its gun still clutched in one appendage. Commander Hatqueban pointed her gun at Ingray. “I will not hesitate to shoot, excellency.”
“I’m sure,” replied Ingray. There was no hiding the way her voice was shaking. She wasn’t sure she could get to her feet if she needed to, she was shaking so much even lying on the ground like this.
Chenns brought the aid kit over to where Nicale lay, and knelt beside the prolocutor and began sorting through the kit’s supplies. “Is there something the alarm did to block our communications?” asked Commander Hatqueban. “That wasn’t in the information I was given.”
Ingray presumed the commander was addressing her—Nicale was unconscious, and Prolocutor Dicat and Excellency Chenns were busy with the aid kit. “I haven’t the faintest idea.” Nicale Tai would have known. “I’m sure they don’t announce the details of how security works to everyone.”
“Don’t move,” said Commander Hatqueban. Ingray sighed and laid her head back down. Even if her knee didn’t ache fiercely, even if she weren’t still trembling, she posed no threat to anyone. And there was nothing she could do to help Nicale.
“I don’t know if that’s going to help,” she heard Chenns say after a few minutes. “It’s the best we can do.”