The Guild Conspiracy (5 page)

She pressed her lips together and glanced away.
Everything
, she wanted to say. Everything had changed.

The soldier raised the cigarette to his lips again, but hesitated. “I thought you wanted to join the Guild on your own terms.”

“I did,” she said bitterly.

“Yet here you are.”

She wanted to laugh, but she felt too hollow. “Here I am.”

He remained quiet for a moment, smoking his cigarette in silence. “Do you mind if I ask you something?” he asked, blowing another cloud of smoke across the hallway.

“What?”

“Why does the Guild council distrust you so much?” he asked. “They seem to think you're their enemy.”

She scoffed. “Fancy that.”

“Are you?” he asked.

“Am I what?”

“What they say.”

She arched an eyebrow. “That depends on what's being said.”

Footsteps approached the doors, and her throat tightened as she realized the council's deliberation must be over already. She glanced away from the soldier, her nerves twisting into a knot in her chest.

The door to the council chambers opened, and the clerk peered into the hall, his face betraying no hint of what the council had decided. “They're ready for you, Miss Wade.”

She hesitated, eyeing the soldier as he took another drag off his cigarette. She wondered what he had been told about her, what he had heard, if he knew anything close to the truth. She knew what some of the council members said about her, like Fowler, how they considered her their enemy, undeserving of the Guild's consideration.

But they were wrong.

She was more deserving than anyone.

“No,” she said finally, meeting his challenging gaze with one of her own. “I'm not anything like they say.”

His expression seemed to soften then, and she thought she saw a hint of a smile as he took another puff of his cigarette, but she did not linger after that. She left the soldier in the hall and followed the clerk into the council chambers.

Lyndon stood as she entered, but the rest of the council members remained seated, a solemn, dead silence weighing on the room.

Petra stopped in the center of the chamber, standing tall and proud amidst their stern gazes, her chin held high. Whatever their decision, she had done as Julian asked. She had designed his war machine, cooperated with his plans, and submitted the design to the Guild. He could not punish her for the council's decision, not when she had done exactly as she was told. Any engineer worth his degree could see that the war machine was viable—­mistakes notwithstanding. That had to count for something.

Behind her, the doors to the council room opened, and Officer Cartwright slipped quietly back inside, rejoining the group of redcoats at the edge of the room. He met Petra's eye as he took up position among the other soldiers, offering a brief smile before assuming the statuesque posture of his fellows.

Vice-­Chancellor Lyndon cleared his throat. “After due consideration, the council has deliberated on the quadruped project and come to a decision,” he said slowly, his gaze sweeping the full perimeter of the hall before settling on Julian Goss. “As proposed, we have considered Miss Wade's application and have thus decided to
accept
the quadruped project for immediate commission.”

Petra's eyes widened, a wash of relief sweeping through her. She could hardly believe it.

“However . . .” Lyndon continued, his gravelly voice suddenly heavy.

Her smile faltered.

“In light of Miss Wade's past misconducts and questions of her allegiance to the Guild and the Empire,” he went on, “the council has deemed her unworthy of joining the Guild and therefore rejects her formal application for Guild placement.”

“What? No . . .”

Petra turned toward Julian, sitting relaxed in his chair with a satisfied smile on his lips.

So this was his plan . . . He never intended to let her be a member of the Guild. All he ever wanted was his war machine. And now he had it.

“But you can't just
take
the quadruped,” she said, turning back toward Lyndon. “You can't accept the project without also accepting my application. That's not how this works.”

“The council's decision has been made,” said Julian. “The Guild has accepted the quadruped for immediate development, and you are denied Guild membership. There will be no further discussion on the matter.”

“But you can't do that!” she said, curling her fingers into fists. “The proposal is my application into the Guild. You can't accept one and not the other.” She glared at Julian and approached the vice-­chancellor. “Don't let him do this,” she pleaded, gesturing toward Julian. “He can't just take my designs and refuse me the right to be on the project. I designed the quadruped. It's
mine
.”

“It is the Guild's property now,” said a sallow voice—­one of Julian's toadies, Mr. Pelletier. “The council has the authority to accept or reject applications as we please, and we have decided that you are not fit to work as an engineer for the Guild.”

“Not fit?”

“Given your . . . history.”

Julian glared down at her from the lofty council bench. “The decision is final, Miss Wade.”

“No, it isn't,” she said, gritting her teeth. “If I can't be on the project, if you reject my application to join the Guild, then—­then you can't have the quadruped. I withdraw the project from consideration.”

“Petra,” said Lyndon, suddenly sitting forward in his chair. “If you withdraw your project, then—­”

“No,” she said, silencing him with the darkest of glares she could muster. “I know my rights as a student. The Guild cannot develop the quadruped without my consent. Those are the legalities of Guild contracts, are they not?” She glared at the vice-­chancellor, daring him to contradict her.

“She's right,” said another man. “Her consent is required. We cannot commission a project without the designing engineer's explicit approval, student or otherwise. Should you choose to build the machine without such approval, you will be in violation of her rights as an engineer, as defined in the Guild bylaws. If Miss Wade wishes to withdraw the project, she may do so, and not one of us can do anything to stop her.”

Petra glanced at Julian. There was at least one person in the room who could choose to punish her for withdrawing the project, but she prayed it wouldn't come to that.

She faced Lyndon again. “There is an alternative.”

“And what is that?” asked Mr. Pelletier.

“Let me work on the project. Induct me into the Guild. If—­”

“Absolutely not! If there is one thing we can all agree on, it is that you do not belong in the Guild.” He shook his head and turned to the other council members. “Surely there is a way we might subvert the contract bylaws. Miss Wade may study here, but she is not a proper student. She is not, and never will be, equal to the engineers in our employ. She is a woman, and therefore the bylaws should not apply. The very idea that—­”

“I am just as good an engineer as any of the other students,” she said, her voice rising. “My designs prove that, and if I were a man, you wouldn't hesitate to accept my application. I may be a woman, but I am also an engineer, and I deserve the same consideration you would give any man.”

“It is not only your sex—­or even your skill—­that is in question,” said another man, “but your loyalties. You have been previously accused of anti-­imperialist associations and were once party to the destruction of Guild property. Given such history, we cannot afford to risk—­”

“Those accusations were proved false,” said Lyndon, cutting across the arguing council members with his deep, gravelly voice. “Miss Wade is guilty of no crime here. Let that be a reminder to you all.”

“A matter of opinion,” countered the other councilor. “Not all of us were party to the evidence proving Miss Wade's innocence, Vice-­Chancellor, and I, for one, find it highly negligent for the Guild to give her access to such a sensitive project in this delicate time—­whether she designed it or not.”

There was a murmur of agreement from many of the other council members, their arguments against her only growing more and more heated as both Lyndon and a few of the elder members came to her defense. They were nearly shouting over one another now.

Her attempt to negotiate was crumbling around her ears.

“I have a suggestion.”

The voice came not from behind the council bench but beside it. Petra turned toward the soldiers standing at the edge of the council chambers. Officer Cartwright stood firmly in front of the rest of the men, his hands clasped neatly behind his back and his eyes on Vice-­Chancellor Lyndon.

The council continued to argue despite his interruption.

Lyndon gave up on trying to defend her and sank into his leather chair with his knuckles pressed to his brow. Julian's glower only grew darker with each passing second, and Petra tried not to flinch.

She swallowed against the tightness in her throat and glanced at Officer Cartwright again, who was now discussing something with his superior, the broad-­shouldered man with the thick mustache. After a moment of quiet discussion, the elder officer nodded and gestured toward the council bench. Officer Cartwright stepped forward, his red uniform distinctive in the harsh overhead light. When the council finally noticed him, their arguments disintegrated into silence.

Vice-­Chancellor Lyndon looked up from the council bench and adjusted his glasses on his nose. “Yes?”

“The Royal Forces has a suggestion for the Guild council,” said Officer Cartwright. “A proposition that may satisfy all parties involved.”

Julian leaned forward in his chair and glared at the soldier, his gaze slowly sweeping across the chamber to the officers remaining to the side of the bench. Petra noticed the silent exchange between him and the mustached officer. The man nodded firmly, and Julian narrowed his eyes, slowly withdrawing back into his chair with a scowl.

“Well?” he prompted, gesturing for the soldier to continue. “What does the Royal Forces suggest?”

“I have conferred with my superiors and we believe that there is a way forward that will please both the Guild council and the designing engineer in a manner compliant with the interests of the Royal Forces,” said the officer. “Both the Guild council and the attending officers have reviewed the proposed project that Miss Wade has brought forth and agreed that it is of an acceptable design, suitable for immediate development. Therefore, we can all agree that neither Miss Wade's knowledge nor her expertise are in question here, but her loyalty. Those of the council who voted against Miss Wade's application for a position within the Guild, you question her allegiance, correct? And it is on this basis that you wish to reject her application to the Guild, and yet retain her proposed project.”

He waited for the dissenting councilors to nod their agreement before continuing. “Yet, according to the Guild bylaws, as supported by a few of the present councilors, you cannot commission her project without her consent—­which she refuses to give without due involvement on the project at hand. To that end, I offer a solution:

“With the support of my superiors, I propose that the Guild council allows Miss Wade a probationary position on the quadruped project, where she can oversee construction of the machine and involve herself as required. However, as it suits the council, her access to Guild resources would be limited to the production of the quadruped, and her involvement would occur only under the observation of a trusted Guild associate.”

His words lingered in weighted silence, the attending council members mulling over the suggestion as they conversed among themselves. Many of them shook their heads in quiet disagreement, but others seemed to consider the suggestion in earnest.

Petra felt her heart lift.

If Officer Cartwright could convince the council to let her join the project, even in a probationary position, she could ensure her sabotage progressed as planned.

The soldier's superior officer stepped forward then, taking up position in front of Officer Cartwright. “Let me remind you, gentlemen, that the Royal Forces is in need of advanced war technology to combat the anti-­imperialist threat. This engineer's design is the only machine you have been able to offer to that effect. It would be imprudent to allow it to slip through your fingers based on nothing more than hearsay.”

“Forgive me for questioning your judgement, Colonel,” said Julian, leaning forward in his chair. “But what guarantees can the Royal Forces provide that Miss Wade will not take advantage of this probationary position and take treasonous action against the Guild?”

The colonel met Julian's stare. “None,” he said plainly. “But the Royal Forces is in need of a war machine, and you now have the power to grant that to us. On behalf of the Royal Forces, I suggest that you do. Whatever consequences that follow will be a matter of further discourse.”

Silence followed his words, clinging to the council chambers like cobwebs. Petra glanced at Julian and then Lyndon, trying to gauge their reactions to the proposal.

If a member of the council put the proposition to a vote, she had a chance—­a
real
chance—­to join the Guild, even if it was a highly restricted position. But if Julian rejected the idea, if her other detractors disagreed with the soldier's proposal, then she would be forced to make a desperate decision: allow the Guild to build the quadruped without her involvement, or formally withdraw her application and suffer Julian's wrath.

Neither would help her in her goal to delay the war.

Finally, Julian turned his attention from the colonel back to her. “Miss Wade,” he said. “Would you agree to such terms?”

Petra stood a little straighter. “I would,” she said with a nod. “If you allow me to oversee the project and have a part in the construction of the prototype, I will give my permission for the Guild to commission the quadruped, and therefore prove my loyalty to the council.”