by Calista Skye
Taking her seat at the table, she folded her hands over its moon-silver surface and waited for the Captain to commence with the meeting.
He drew a ragged breath.
“Well, we knew it was coming. The other shoe has dropped before the first. Mostly because the official incident report hasn't been filed, yet.”
Shala felt a burst of relief hearing that. It meant they'd have some time to put out one fire before turning their attention to the other.
“King Therin has gotten wind of the memotic on board, and his priests have done whatever hoodoo they do to discover her identity.”
Shala gasped. It was much worse than they'd predicted.
The captain turned his eyes on her a moment before flicking his gaze away from her and back to the assembled group at large.
"Teleran custom has a strict code where “spirits” are concerned, and even though the circumstances are quite different than one involving that of an “ancestor,” the memotic is someone their classifying as a "haunt." Her identity as the daughter of one of their true enemies has brought everything under scrutiny, including us. They're talking of evacuating the city ship and hiring enough pods to transport their people planetside.”
The captain set his jaw and glanced down at the gleaming reports in front of him before lifting his eyes again.
“I don't have to tell you what the implications of this are. We'll lose the budget if they go through with this, and our full transport pay will be cut in half.”
“But we're more than half-way there.”
“I'm aware of that, but regulations are what they are. We get the other half of the stipend when we complete the job. That, of course, makes completing the job imperative.”
Signaling his sidekick, he sat back in his chair and took a sizing glance at his crew. A crew who were looking very much like a family of deer caught in the headlights of a hover ship flying much too low. Everyone in that room knew what this meant, and how serious it was to the Telerans.
The Tavalar enforcer was a blood enemy, and his daughter had fallen to the hand of the prince. Without even thinking of the assured legal repercussions to come, the Telerans were concerned that the memotic intended to haunt the ship and bring them harm.
There were all sorts of superstitions surrounding haunts, and even as a memotic the enforcer's daughter would be considered a power who could bring misfortune, sickness, and even death from the astral plane if she were inclined. They were probably packing their bags already while their emissaries researched all of the available transport pods available in Sector 6, before they passed through it entirely.
Shala watched the Captain's assistant pass a pile of data sheets around the table before taking a seat, and her eyes glanced slowly down at the list of precautions they would all have to very carefully internalize in light of this new development.
If they thought the Telerans had been cold-shouldered to them before, they could be sure of a far more arctic reception moving forward. The situation called for diplomatic intervention that didn't step on the toes of the Teleran priests, who would certainly be urging their people to get the hell out of dodge as soon as Teleranly possible.
“So we have a few options, the more risky of which I'd like to save for last.”
Every pair of eyes on the crew fixed to the Captain now. With paychecks on the line and a serious inquiry looming over their heads when the official report of the girl's disembodiment was submitted, everyone at that table had 'a horse in the race.'
Whatever solutions were available, they were all willing to work them even before they heard the details. Going home with half-pay was a non-option for most of them. Shala had saved enough credits to sustain herself with for a reasonable amount of time, but a canceled mission might also interfere with her ability to get another good gig within the year.
She ignored the pit of doom descending her stomach.
“Diplomacy is of the utmost. But we must handle it with care. We don't have a Teleran priest on our payroll who would be willing to look at a counter solution to the memotic problem, and we certainly can't discount their fear – even if the girl isn't an actual spirit.”
The captain paused for effect before speaking again.
“We can be sure the red-eyed bastards who sent the girl here to begin with will be back, though, so putting out this fire before they attempt to attack the ship is a major priority. Is there anyone here who has formed even the flimsiest of connections with the Telerans, whether during a wild night at the promenade, during a routine sweep, or a friendly cup of Kelier? We know they're superstitious. If we can manage to plant a convincing bug in even a commoner's ear, it will spread enough doubt that the Telerans open themselves up to other possibilities.”
Shala swallowed her reservations, and drawing a breath a moment, she raised her hand.
“Officer Kane.”
“I..."
Shala cleared her throat.
"I received an invitation to Eiowa when I returned to my room last night.”
Creasing a brow, the captain gave her an assessing look.
“When were you planning on sharing this?”
Shala met his eyes unwaveringly.
“I was waiting for the appropriate time. I didn't think it wise to interrupt your reasons for issuing a staff hail.”
Appearing satisfied enough with her explanation, the captain nodded.
“Alright. Who's your escort?”
Shala swallowed nervously, again.
“Prince Tarik, apparently.”
Feeling the heat of every pair of eyes around the table turn to assess her, Shala forced herself to maintain a hold on her expression, keeping her back straight and upright. She'd done nothing wrong. Daydreaming about a hot, Teleran prince wasn't a crime.
“That's... exceptional. How on earth did you manage to win the favor of Teleran royalty, Officer Kane?”
At least that was easy to explain.
“He considers me a sort of fellow warrior for my part in the case's investigation. I think it impressed him that we took immediate action on the threat to his deck.”
Looking pleased, the captain even smiled.
“Well, I couldn't have hoped for better news, Officer. You have to go. RSVP immediately. If you can place a bug in the prince's ear that makes them hold off from evacuating long enough for us to get our ducks in a row, we might come out of this with our pay and no harm done to our connection with the Telerans.”
That was a long shot, Shala considered. Once the official reports were filed, there'd be a renewed reason for distrust. But she was wise enough to let the captain enjoy his high spirits,
even as she began to freak out inside. She hadn't considered that she might actually attend the Eiowa. It was a gray area to be certain, especially with the investigation that was sure to follow every officer involved in the incident that would bring the wrath of the enforcer down on as many of their heads as he could.
“This is exemplary, Officer Kane. If you manage to save our asses with this little invitation of yours, it's going to look very good on your record.”
Shala smiled with as much professionalism as she could muster, feeling out of place with so much attention trained on her. She'd busted her ass for years for a commendation, and the captain had all but said he'd issue her one in so many words – if she succeeded in convincing the Telerans to back off from their intent to evacuate the ship.
It was a tall order, but not completely unthinkable.
The prince had seemed to warm to her when he'd escorted her to her deck. He might be open to reason. He was of a different generation than his father, and he'd want to make his own decisions to some degree. Cast his own votes. If he cast the right one, and it was recognized in time, it would win him the earned admiration of the priests and commoners. And when he finally took his seat on the throne, there would be little if any dissent if he became their beloved savior against a blood enemy.
Her stomach fell a little at the thought. Beca
use there was still a trial in his future, she was sure.
Drawing a breath, she focused her mind on the present. One thing at a time. Evacuation would be a bad thing for everyone, including the Telerans. It would make them sitting ducks for the acquisitioners, if any of them were the true target of the girl's breach.
Standard-issue pod ships were insanely easy to break into.
8
“The prince never fails in selecting the finest any given sector has to offer.”
Shala had no idea what to say to that, and she flushed a little despite her intent to remain as professional as possible about this. She'd RSVP-ed as soon as the captain's damage control meeting was disbanded, and it had taken less than an hour for an emissary to show up at her door.
The moon-skinned woman looked to be middle-aged, her red hair flecked with silver at its ends. The telltale sign of a seer's daughter. The other parent's genetics had obviously won out, but she surely had a touch of the old gift with the amount of silver on her head.
“You're overcome." Her hand touched her chest. "Do not worry. I've come to get you fitted for a proper receiving dress and ancestral jewels.”
Whoa. Ancestral jewels?
“Yes, ancestral jewels. No one can attend Eiowa without them, dear.”
Shala bristled a little, but then realized the emissary was responding to the expression on her face, not reading her mind. Finding her voice, she shook herself from the stupor that had eaten her usual manners and gave the woman a warm smile.
“Thank you. I... wasn't expecting company so soon. Please pardon my-”
“Do not apologize, dear one,” the emissary smiled. “It's totally understandable. The arranger surely forgot that you wouldn't know all of the customs. I'm Suni.”
Shala exhaled with relief.
“Hi, Suni. May I offer you some Drekken tea?”
“Oh, no. I'm afraid we don't have time for that. The fitter is squeezing you in last minute. We must get down to the commons before star set.”
“Right. Of course.”
“Are you ready to leave now?”
Shala glanced around her and nodded her head.
“I'll just need to slip into something... less formal.”
“Of course.”
Making quick work of it, Shala gestured for Suni to come in, but with a grin, the older woman told her she'd wait in the corridor. It didn't take long for the officer to get herself changed after that. Shala woefully needed a relaxing rinse, but there wasn't time for it. Any more dawdling and they'd miss the fitter. Star set was less than 60 ticks away, and there wasn't any room to risk the team's one opportunity to set things at least somewhat right.
When Shala had taken the job, she'd never thought she'd find herself in the middle of a potential blood war, but there was no point in fretting over it now. At the heart of this, there was a sure potential to claim a commendation it would otherwise take her another three transports to acquire – if even then.
No, she would handle this, even under the crushing pressure of it. Shala was no wilting flower. She was made of far stronger stock than that.
Lifting her chin, she pulled on her earth-toned, day suit usually reserved for trips down to the commoner levels, and touching a hand to her bun of inky, waterfall hair, she drew a long sigh looking over her reflection before popping out of the door.
“Shall we go?”
Suni asked it with a warm smile.
“Yes. I'm ready now. Thanks for waiting.”
As they walked the corridors, Suni shared more vitals about Teleran culture than Shala expected her to. Shala was given a run down of who to appease, and who to avoid, the purists, and the more tolerant of inter-cultural comradery.
It was almost as if she expected Shala to eventually become a part of the culture, but the officer wisely tucked her questions back and listened with avid interest. There was a wealth of information in what she was receiving right now, and she'd be a fool to let even a bit of it fly over her head.
Not that she expected to utilize it beyond tonight. Even if this mission was successful, and they patched up the gaping rift they were all frightfully staring into, she was fairly positive the Telerans would maintain a wide gap between themselves and the rest of the allied forces.
They'd make themselves available at war time, but trading, and other perks that came along with allied friendships would surely be strained and tight-fisted.
It wasn't any fault of their own. They'd accommodated the displaced people as much as regulations allowed, but there'd been no way to foresee such a stealthy attack as the acquisitioners struck with. Telera one was no runt. It was incredible that the red-eyed bastards had even dared take the chance. But then, they had memotic technology now, and that was sure to change the game entirely moving forward.
New measures would have to be taken, and fast, to avoid whatever else they had up their sleeves. It's hard to fight what you can't see. Allied ships would need to be retro-fitted with fine-tuned scanners to provide some measure of detection that could at least detect a breach. The funding required for long-range scanners that scoured the black ink they traveled through just wasn't there. Yet. The money would be found, but they'd all have to cover their asses until it was.
“And I wouldn't look the High Priest too hard in the eye. He has a tendency of rifling through thoughts uninvited, so I'm told. If you have anything you'd prefer to keep private, he's one to guard against, if you're wise.”
Shala smiled politely and nodded her understanding.
Suni had a pleasant lilt to her voice that made you want to listen to her all day. And she was so uncharacteristically warm, Shala didn't know whether to open to her as her heart seemed want to, or to keep at least a tentative guard up. The friendliness might be exclusive to only a few Telerans, a product of the prince's order, or an old woman's hope to see the prince take a mate with someone outside of Teleran culture for her own reasons.
Shala was getting ahead of herself with those thoughts maybe, but it didn't pay to be lax where intercultural relations were concerned.
Stepping into a small, wood-toned door which wooshed with a slight creak, Suni pulled Shala close and wove her arm into hers. It was a gesture one would expect of an old friend, and Shala realized in that moment how badly she ached for that sort of connection. Pushing away the thoughts of loss rising to the surface of her mind, she lifted her chin with a smile and drank in the full lay-out of the quaint shop.
Fine fabrics, adornments, and cloth books spilled out from a myriad of boxes in varied sizes and shapes as they drew close to the main counter where a man with a beakish nose and crystalline eyes drew obscure lines over what appeared to be a blueprint laid out in front of him. A shiny, silver needle jut from his blue-lipped mouth.
He was a moment before noticing them, but he gave Suni and Shala a warm grin when they came to stand before him, their shadows quickly alerting him to their presence.
“Suni, dear. How lovely to see you. I wasn't expecting you until mid-season. We'll be planetside by then." He winked. "And who is your lovely companion?”
Beaming Suni unwove her arm from Shala's and laid a fond hand over her old friend's.
“I'm on royal errand,” she told him with a return wink. “For the object of the Prince's interest: Shala.”
She turned to look at Shala, and Shala flushed at the curious warmth in their eyes as their gazes fell onto her.
“She's a beauty. We'll have her fitted in something extravagant. What event are we preparing for, Suni?”
“Eiowa.”
Looking slightly taken aback, the fitter quickly composed his expression.
“Extraordinary.”
Turning to Shala, he smiled toothily.
“Pardon my manners. I am Elsben. It's wonderful to have you. If you'll both follow me to the back.”
The rows of garments and materials in the narrow corridor he led them through shone with such luxurious fabrics and jeweled adornments; Shala was afraid to even brush
against them. But soon he showed them to the circular room at its middle, where a mirror and curving benches lined the walls.
“If you'll stand here, please.”
Elsben drew out an old-style measuring tape, and wrapped it around Shala's legs, arms, and mid-section with the flair of a pro, taking obvious mental notes as he strained his brows. It was all very quick before he pulled a rack from the back and began to lift gown after gown to her, tilted his head as he assessed her, his eyes glinting with the sure skill of an experienced fitter. Squinting his eyes, he matched the gowns to her dusken skin and the golden rose undertones that highlighted it.
There was no talk throughout this process, only grunts and hmms as he did his work. But when he finally gasped and a brilliant smile rose to lift the corners of his wide mouth, she knew he'd found the one: a gown of artful shreds and tatters in subtly matched, sea tones, tight enough to hug her voluptuous curves without making her look shamefully wanton.
Even she approved.
Stealing a glance at Suni, Shala saw that the emissary was quite impressed, as well.
“We have our gown,” Elsben told her, exchanging a meaningful look.
“That's a gown meant to precede a wedding.”
“And one to ensure such a grand account for my humble shop.”
Shala suppressed a giggle at what equated to a mental dap or high-five shared between the old friends who seemed to have forgotten she was even there for a moment.
“Send over the image quickly will you ? I'll need to make the jeweler's by first light.”
“I... have duty at first light,” Shala interrupted, immediately shrinking back from their abrupt shift of perspective to take her in. Their expressions told her she'd spoken out of turn; she'd make a mental note of it.
“The jeweler will only see an emissary or one of the royals, themselves, dear. No worries over that. We'll match the image to the jewels, along with your imprint,” Suni assured kindly.