by Blaze Ward
“And how bad do you suppose those purges might be this time, with the extra anger of an assassination layered on top of that like lemon frosting?” Valentinian questioned.
“Depends on the winner,” Dave offered. “The Tournament won’t start for another couple of months, because there has to be an open period for people to make their way to Cronus Prime and list their names. Then the Tournament itself takes about six weeks to complete. Then they form a new government and spread the good word across the Dominion. Maybe even start a new war, just as an excuse to give the new Dominator a chance to shine.”
“You seem to know a lot about how this sort of thing works,” Valentinian’s voice wasn’t accusing, but wasn’t neutral either. Stark, perhaps.
“I had an…official capacity in the old Dominion,” Dave admitted evasively. “My timing for departure is about as bad as my luck in finding you was good when I decided I wanted out.”
It even sounded reasonable. Not that Valentinian figured it would keep him safe, but there wasn’t anything he could do at this point but ride the main chance and offer prayers and whatever sacrifices he could to interested gods that might help.
Or plot a course for the far side of either Laurentia or Qetesh and abandon Madame Cleray and her girls here for the joys of Wildspace.
For the briefest moment, Valentinian even saw vulnerability in Dave’s eyes. The kind that suggested the big man expected Valentinian to find the nearest White Hat and plead his case.
Except Valentinian already knew that his background would come up at that point, and they’d start digging. Hell, If Dave was honestly just fleeing from a bad marriage, Valentinian might spend more time in prison, if everything caught up with them.
Best not to find out.
“So we do nothing, say nothing,” Valentinian said definitively. “Pretend like we’re dumb spacers from the wrong side of the tracks and keep an eye out for people asking too many questions. I’ve already got a lifetime of experience at that sort of thing, so you’re going to get to learn on the fly.”
Dave looked like he wanted to argue, at least for a beat. Took a deep breath and marshalled his arguments for or against.
Thought better of it before he said something stupid and irrevocable.
Valentinian felt his own eyes go hard and cold. He was right back there in the Headmaster’s office, desperately trying to deflect the avalanche coming down the mountainside at him, as he was chosen to be the ritual sacrifice, lest the other three boys get publically shamed.
One of these days, he would owe those fuckers a ration of pain. Maybe he’d sick Dave on them.
That brought a cold smile to Valentinian’s face. Kind of matched the one on Dave’s.
“Us against the galaxy, Vee?” Dave asked hesitantly.
“Something like that,” Valentinian agreed. “You in?”
Dave stuck out his hand and Valentinian heard tumblers in a lock begin to fall into alignment.
“I’m in,” the big man said.
They shook.
Us against the galaxy.
13
Kyriaki
Commercial space travel was weird, Kyriaki decided. Previously, she had only ever flown on Security-owned ships, or as an honored passenger with the Dominion Armada.
Today she was pretending to be a civilian. It was something else she had never been, as her whole life had been originally aimed at joining the Solar Party and becoming a powerful bureaucrat. They were the ones that actually controlled the Dominion, no matter what the soldiers said.
Warriors were socialized to support the state, rather than a particular man or woman who held a position of authority.
We are all cogs in the greater Dominion.
Even being redirected into the White Hats of internal security hadn’t really changed anything. She was still an aggressive climber. Now she stalked criminals, rather than deviationists, was all. The stalking was the same.
And the outcome was still a stronger Dominion.
Even if she had to laugh at the outrageous pun fortune had played on her. She was stalking a man on the thinnest of threads, because all other possible avenues had come up negative.
They were playing a longshot hypothesis. That maybe somehow Captain Tarasicodissa had managed to smuggle the assassin off the station, right under her very nose.
Longshot Hypothesis.
Now, she traveled as a civilian, little people as she had always thought of them. It was turning into an eye-opening experience. Getting her papers checked regularly by hostile or bored bureaucrats who lacked adult supervision. Being told what to do and where to go, with no recourse. Ignored or verbally abused just because someone with authority could.
It rankled.
But it also marked her as being in a different class as an agent. No longer simply in burgundy and white, she could travel incognito and spy on the galaxy. It would make her reputation.
Or break it.
She would be able to report things about how the world worked when you weren’t in power, and how things were being abused in such a way that it was wrong.
The things she saw left her with questions, and nobody to ask them to, at least until she got back to the Ambassador. Hopefully with Tarasicodissa’s head in a vac-sealed bag, however a longshot that option might be.
That one was a traitor. She wasn’t sure how or why she knew that, but the man was an enemy of the state. She would find his secret and expose him. And if he hadn’t smuggled the assassin off Dominion Prime, he was still a criminal whose capture would make the Dominion a better place.
Longshot hypothesis or not.
Kyriaki had taken to retreating to her cabin after the common dinner, to brood in peace. The first night out, a man who worked in interplanetary sales and marketing had spent too much time attempting to solicit a sexual encounter between the two of them.
She considered it a victory that all she had done was turn him down and walk away, rather than throwing her drink in his face and then beating him to death. The thought had crossed her mind.
Random fornication with strangers was not her style.
But tonight, she had not retreated. Not slipped quietly away to hide from other humans in her cabin, watching the stars flow by at a rapid pace out her porthole.
Instead, she had found a small table with a good portal view and moved the other chair well away as an obvious invitation to not talk to her. A glass of hot chocolate lightly spiced with apple rum sat on the small table as she watched the endless night flow.
Kyriaki felt eyes upon her.
Not the fool salesman. He was clear across the room, trying his luck with some other desperate targets. She turned her head back to a table nearby. Not too close, but not that far away either.
He was older. Perhaps in his seventh or eighth decade. Slim almost to gauntness, like an arisen skeleton given flesh but not muscle. Thick, white hair wanted to frizz, but was kept buzzed short. Bright eyes almost golden matched her stare.
He lowered his gaze first, so as to not give offense.
When he looked up again, she was still watching him, so he smiled.
A gesture with his head asked an invitation to join her. Silently and politely.
Kyriaki wondered what a man her grand-sire’s age might wish to discuss.
She was also intrigued. She nodded.
He rose like a snake stretching and easily lifted his chair with one hand while holding a glass of dark wine in the other.
The man approached delicately and sat across from her in silence.
She felt his gaze, and his smile, but he turned pointedly to watch the night flowing by outside the portal.
After a moment, Kyriaki did the same, letting the silence stretch.
“It has been many years,” the older man began in a low, strong voice. “I am an old man now, and long past my time. But I remember that walk.”
She turned a sharp eye on the man.
“Discipline. Intention. Focus,” he smiled at her.
“One used to doing things with a strong hand, forced to refrain in public, while seeking something. Or someone. A hunter.”
“And you were?” she asked, glancing around, but they were largely alone at this end of the lounge.
“Also a hunter, in my time,” he nodded respectfully. “More than a seeker after wisdom, but it also includes seeking after truth. And masking your aura from those around you, as you approached.”
Something about the way he spoke kept her from simply standing and walking away. For one, he had offered no offense, and spoken in a deliberately vague manner almost the opposite of that salesman over at the bar.
Respectful, and tactful. Something she had found missing on this journey, where she was just a young woman, apparently traveling alone.
Prey, perhaps, depending on the type of predator.
“And what did you stalk?” Kyriaki queried.
“The most dangerous quarries,” he replied. “Men and women who sought to undermine the common good.”
Kyriaki nodded. Something about the man had suggested a commonality to their pasts.
“What color?” she leaned forward to speak even more privately. It was a common phrase for suddenly-met strangers among the security organizations, with so many approaching similar problems from different angles.
“Gray initially,” he also leaned close, like they were lovers sharing sweet words. “Burgundy, later.”
And perhaps they were, at that.
“Indeed?” she smiled at him, warmer now than she had been.
Gray was the color of the Dominion’s gendarmes, after they made it to the rank of detective. When they weren’t hiding in plain clothes.
Burgundy was only worn by one force. The White Hats. Even pretending to be one in retirement was a crime that would merit time in a small, rank box.
She leaned back a little. Not enough to break the conversation, but to settle it on different ground.
“Kyriaki Apokapes,” she introduced herself, nodding.
“Eridanos Argyros,” he replied, smiling.
“And you are retired?” she asked.
“Forty-years of service was enough for me,” he shrugged. “Especially as a widower with grown grandchildren. Now I travel some, visiting various elements of my extended family. And seek my own adventures, after a lifetime serving others. But you are just at the beginning of such a journey, no?”
“I am,” she admitted.
“And in burgundy, unless I miss my guess,” he whispered. “And hiding it well from the world.”
“Yet you were able to notice?” Kyriaki asked, neither conceding nor denying.
“There is a way we walk,” Eridanos grinned. “Men and women with righteousness on our side, and a secret power than no other in the Dominion possess. I could not describe it any other way, but to say I recognized myself when you walked across the room and sat.”
“I see,” Kyriaki wasn’t sure if she should be pleased or annoyed. But at least she knew now to pay attention to her walk and display less pride.
“With the recent developments, is there a threat abroad?” he spoke quietly. “I have followed what news I could, removed from the seats of power by retirement.”
Kyriaki felt her walls suddenly come back up. Possible former co-worker or not, the man was a stranger, at least until she could have someone track him down and vouch for his past.
And denying it would do her no good, if he was indeed a retired White Hat. Nor would it offend him. He would know how the process worked. At least well enough to follow.
She was in mufti, after all.
She settled for a shrug.
“I pursue a vague hint of a thread,” she offered. “More senior officers are closer to the heart of the investigation.”
Where they have found nothing in weeks of looking and talking to people.
“Then I wish you luck, Inspector,” Eridanos said quietly. “I debark at Gui Xiu, but if I can be of any assistance, please do not hesitate to ask.”
“Is your itinerary filed?” she asked.
“It was not,” he admitted. “But I am an old man on my own time. I will correct that when I arrive. That way you can call upon me if we happen to cross paths later.”
Kyriaki nodded. The ship did not have all the resources, but she would show her identicard to the right officials tomorrow and get all of the information they had on Eridanos Argyros. And then follow up if she needed, when she got to Tartarus.
14
Lianearia
At least the two men had kept their polite distance up until now, both from the girls, as well as Lianearia’s staff. Not that the adults were off-limits, if they chose not to be, but it spoke well for the two men that they had not risked the interpersonal friction that might come from anything more than a simple tumble.
Lianearia might be willing to stretch this charter as much as a year if things continued like this. Valentinian was charging less than Nash had, by more than a third, and yet the young man seemed happy with the deal.
Of course, he also wasn’t attempting to maintain a significant organization of dead weight in the form of bouncers and hoodlums on various planets.
Lianearia approached the open door to the personal quarters on the first deck, not with trepidation, but perhaps concern, however poorly framed her guesses and instincts might be.
They had kept her alive and solvent for a very long time. She would listen to them.
She had been in this forward space only once, so she was still getting used to a design that involved lowering the forward section of the deck by two steps for no reason she could identify except external aesthetics.
From the outside, it gave the forward section of the ship a shape almost like a bulldog hunched over a bone, with its tail a little elevated, at least when the cargo ramps were closed on the ground. Like now.
Lianearia could walk in utter silence, in any shoes. She had noticed that Dave Hall had the same skill, but that man was no dancer.
Still, she clicked her heels firmly on the steps as she approached. The room she was entering had been referred to as the rec room by both men, a space they would often retreat to after meals.
Valentinian was facing her as she entered, with Hall on her right, both seated as a small table that could come up out of the floor when needed.
“Right on time,” Valentinian greeted her by standing and smiling, as did Hall. “Please, be seated.”
She took the spot across from Hall and studied the two men. Their three weeks on Aestrolathia were among the most profitable, on a per-day scale, she had ever seen on this planet.
It helped that Nash wasn’t around. Somehow, for all his friends and connections, his antics frequently caused her to have to pay more in bribes than budgeted.
She had always wondered if the man got a kickback from that. Now she was certain of it.
“We were just going over the itinerary for Tartarus,” Valentinian began. “Dave’s never been there, nor have I. What things should we know ahead of time?”
What, indeed?
Lianearia balanced the likely profitability of the upcoming section of the season, against having been nearly being stuck at Dominion Prime when the news erupted. Tartarus was where the money was best. She would have had to reschedule an entire month, or possibly skip Aestrolathia entirely, had they not been packed and gone as they had.
But that also meant that Nash had probably been stuck as well, trying to reorganize himself to deal with the Longshot Hypothesis crew, and then chase after Lianearia.
These two men had born out the good things her chandler had indicated, when she’d wanted to fire Nash. They needed to be prepared for that man’s potential anger.
“I do not foresee changing the schedule of dates,” she replied crisply to the young man. “However, it does mean that my former partner may make an appearance.”
She noted the sly smile the two men shared. As though they had made the same connection.
“In the same circumstances,
I would have headed directly to Tartarus as well,” Valentinian said. “That would give him at least a week, even with the longer, commercial flight path, to prepare for whatever unpleasantness we are likely to encounter. How good are his friends?”
Lianearia stopped to consider that logic.
“He can be quite charming when necessary,” she considered aloud. “As well as a punk when thwarted. I do not know what friends he might have, but I suspect that finances will be his issue. He was not prepared for me to terminate his contract and walk away, so he might be rather poor. And angry.”
She liked the smile that played across Hall’s face as she said that. Like the giant was looking forward to Nash’s anger, in a personal way. Which just might make Nash even more desperate.
“Does he have any legal recourse?” Valentinian asked abruptly.
It was an astute question, especially from such a young man. The Dominion was all about contract law. Courts could be merciless, but only about what was committed to paper.
“I have an exceptional lawyer on retainer,” she grinned. “You saw how clean our contract is. There’s power in not burying confusing details. Especially if you want the judge on your side later.”
“Okay, so it will be personal,” Valentinian nodded to Hall. “Bully boys doing stupid things because they think they can get away with it.”
“How far do we let them push?” Hall asked in a dark, heavy voice that sent shivers down Lianearia’s spine.
“Until we can get him in trouble with the authorities, and not us,” Valentinian replied.
Lianearia was impressed. With both men. Neither were acting like innocents, here, but methodically planning a campaign to trap and potentially destroy her old partner, Axarnashalic “Nash” Bogomelous. And do it for her.
White hands, and all that.
Lianearia could only imagine a future with that man not threatening her or her girls.
“So you do not plan to alter your published itinerary on Tartarus?” Valentinian focused his entire attention on her.