"Let's talk about Blue Block," said Jack diplomatically. "What can you tell us about them?"
"Not a lot," said Robert. "I was sent to them at an early age, but there was a Family argument, and I was called away before I could be initiated into any of their mysteries. Crawford thought the Clan needed more influence in the armed forces, so a dozen of us ended up in the army and the Fleet. For me it was the best thing that ever happened. I had to prove my worth. And I did.
"I don't think Crawford ever really trusted Blue Block even then. He always suspected they might develop their own agenda. Even then people were beginning to suspect that Blue Block graduates owed loyalty to Blue Block first and individual Families second. I'll tell you this: a lot more people went through the Black College than you'd think. Or the Families would ever admit. You don't think a powerful force like the Families would roll over for just anybody, do you? They agreed to your deal because they had no choice. The Clans bow down to Blue Block because their own rising generations are theirs no longer. They belong body and soul to Blue Block.
"It's all secrets and mysteries at the heart of Blue Block. The Black College. The Red Church. The Hundred Hands. Names handed down in whispers, at third and fourth remove. No one knows who runs Blue Block anymore, or what their intentions are. It doesn't make any difference. Their people are everywhere. In high positions too. You'd be surprised."
"I doubt it," said Ruby. "There's not much left that can surprise me anymore. And I never did trust the Families, or anyone connected with them."
"How very wise," said Robert.
Jack intervened quickly. "What about Finlay? Any idea where we can find him?"
"He's just where you'd expect him to be," said Robert. "As close to blood and death and madness as he can get. He's living at the Arenas."
In the Golgotha city known as the Parade of the Endless, everyone goes to the Arenas. To see men fight men, singly or in groups, or men fight aliens, or aliens fight aliens. Just as long as somebody dies. Blood is blood, whatever the color. There's never an empty seat in the stands or the boxes, and season tickets are handed down from generation to generation. The Arenas are the only thing all classes in the Empire have in common.
There's never a shortage of volunteers to risk their lives and honor on the bloody sands, for wealth or privilege or just the applause of the crowd. A few even make a living out of it, for a time. And the greatest fighter of them all, the one every man wanted to fight, and every woman wanted to bed, the man who never backed down from any challenge, was that mysterious and enigmatic figure behind the featureless steel helm, the Masked Gladiator.
Two men wore that mask, though the crowds never knew. The first was Georg McCrackin, who retired unbeaten when he decided he was getting too old and slowing down. He trained his successor, Finlay Campbell, who became the second Masked Gladiator. Georg McCrackin was killed during the rebellion while wearing the featureless steel helm, and his dead body was unmasked during a live broadcast by Toby Shreck.
Finlay had banned himself from the Arenas for many reasons, but he still maintained his old quarters there in the living section deep under the bloody sands. They were very modest, but Finlay didn't care. They were just somewhere to stay where no one could find him, where he could rest and sleep and plot on how best to track down and murder his old enemy, Valentine Wolfe. The clone and esper undergrounds had promised him Valentine's head on a stick in return for his services as an assassin, but now the rebellion was over, it seemed they were far too busy to remember old friends and promises, so Finlay had decided to do it himself.
He couldn't just fire up a ship and go. Parliament had refused to grant him the same official status as the Deathstalker and the d'Ark woman. They didn't trust him. Some thought, not unreasonably, that he might use that official status to go after them. So they denied him a role in their precious new order, and set their spies to watch him. Finlay killed a few of them, now and again, just to keep the others on their toes. And quietly, unobtrusively, he prepared for his quest. So he was more than a little surprised when someone knocked quite openly on his door.
He rose lithely to his feet from the unmade bed where he'd been lying on his back, thinking about nothing in particular, and drew his disrupter from the holster hanging on the bed post. He padded silently over to the door and listened for a moment. The knock came again.
"Who is it?" said Finlay.
"Jack Random and Ruby Journey. We'd like a quiet word. If it's not too much trouble."
Finlay raised an eyebrow. He'd never had much contact with the legendary heroes during his time in the rebellion, or after it, for that matter, and he had no idea why they should seek him out now. But if nothing else their visit should prove interesting, and he could do with a break from his brooding. He unlocked the two locks, pulled back the three sets of bolts he'd added, and stepped smartly back as he swung open the door. Jack and Ruby were standing alone in the corridor, their hands empty. They looked at the gun in his hand, covering them both, but said nothing. Finlay gestured for them to enter with his free hand, and then moved around behind them to lock and bolt the door again.
"You can't be too careful these days. Not when you have as many enemies as I do."
"Trust me," said Jack. "I know the feeling."
"Come in," said Finlay. "Make yourself at home. Sorry the place is a bit of a mess, but I shot the maid."
He smiled, to show that was a joke, and Jack and Ruby smiled back, before moving carefully past him into the room. They looked around in search of somewhere to sit. The place really was a mess. Jack and Ruby had to step over things just to get to the two battered-looking chairs. Unwashed laundry lay in a heap in one corner, and dirty plates and cups filled the sink in the tiny kitchen annex. Several throwing knives protruded from the door. Jack dusted off the seat of his chair before sitting on it. Ruby didn't bother. Finlay sat on the edge of the unmade bed, still covering them both with his disrupter. His gaze was cold and unwavering, and his hand was very steady.
"So," he said calmly, "what brings such illustrious company to my little bolt hole that no one is supposed to know about?"
"Robert told us where to find you," said Jack.
"Ah," said Finlay. "It's always Family that betrays you in the end."
"We need to talk to you," said Ruby. "There are things only you can tell us."
"You're right there," said Finlay. "I know all kinds of things. That's why so many people want me silenced. Which particular dirty little secret did you have in mind?"
"We'd like to ask you a few questions about Clan Campbell's dealings with Shub," said Jack, keeping a careful eye on Finlay's disrupter.
"Oh, that," said Finlay dismissively. He scooted back in bed, set his back against the headboard, and slipped his gun back into its holster. Jack and Ruby relaxed just a little. When Finlay spoke again, he seemed almost bored. "That's old history now. No one cares about that anymore. I thought one of my enemies had sent you to find out what I know, and shut me up. I have lots of enemies, you know. From all sides of the political spectrum. You'd be surprised. Even the ungrateful undergrounds disown me these days, though I was once their blue-eyed boy. They pointed me like a gun, and I killed people. Now I can't even get anyone to return my calls anymore. My past… excesses… have made me a liability. An embarrassment. Once my current mission is brought to a close, I am coming back and knocking on their doors, and I won't take no for an answer. And then there will be… a reckoning."
"And what mission might that be, sir Campbell?" said Jack politely.
"I'm going after Valentine Wolfe. He and I have unfinished business between us."
"I should think everyone in the Empire has unfinished business with that bastard," said Ruby. "Let's talk about Shub."
"Let's not and say we did." Finlay scowled intimidatingly at Ruby, and seemed a little taken aback when she just scowled right back at him. "Oh, well, if it'll get you out of here any quicker… My Family made a deal with the AIs, their advanced t
ech in return for the alien stardrive. Supposedly it was all a con, with us stringing them out for as much as we could get, before the AIs realized we had no intention of delivering. In reality… I don't know.
"We'll never know now. The deal died when the Wolfes destroyed my Family. Afterward, the Wolfes supposedly renegotiated the deal for themselves. Valentine was in charge. What he got, and what he promised in return, you'll have to ask him. If I don't get to him first."
"And there's nothing more you can tell us about Shub's links with Humanity?" said Jack. "Please try to think, sir Campbell. It's important."
"My father never trusted me with any details. And I never asked. I didn't care about such things then."
Jack stood up abruptly. "Excuse me a moment. I've got a message coming in through my implant."
He moved over to the door so he could subvocalize to his comm unit in relative privacy. Finlay and Ruby studied each other thoughtfully. They recognized the warrior in each other, and the same competitive fire began to burn in each of them. It had been a long time since they felt seriously challenged.
"So," said Ruby. "I hear you're a fighter as well as clotheshorse. Any good with a sword?"
"I was taught by the best," said Finlay. "Never once lost a fight. And I never needed esper tricks to win my battles."
Ruby showed her teeth in a mirthless smile. "Maybe we should try each other out sometime. Just steel on steel."
"Sounds good to me," said Finlay. They held each other's gaze, smiling the same death's-head smile. Their hearts speeded up, and their breathing deepened. There was an almost sexual attraction in the air between them. There was a thing they were both born to do, more important to them than life itself, and they could feel it taking over, becoming inevitable. Finlay licked his lips. "When did you have in mind, bounty hunter?"
"What's wrong with right now?" said Ruby Journey.
"Not a damned thing," said Finlay Campbell.
In a moment they were both on their feet, facing each other, swords in hand, blood and death in their eyes. But before their blades could even reach out to touch each other. Jack Random was there between them, glaring furiously at them both, and they each stepped back a pace, stayed for a moment by his sheer authority.
"Have you both gone mad? Of course, stupid question. Look, we don't have time for this. Sir Campbell, put away your sword."
Finlay smiled briefly. "After her."
Jack looked at Ruby. "I can't take my eyes off you for a moment, can I? Put away your sword."
"Why do I have to go first?" said Ruby.
"Because you undoubtedly started it. And because I'm asking you to. We have to go, right now. We're needed on an urgent mission."
Ruby sniffed and reluctantly lowered her sword. "You're no fun anymore, Random."
Finlay cautiously lowered his sword. He and Ruby exchanged a glance. They both knew the moment for a fight had passed. They both also knew there would be other times. Finlay slipped his sword back into the scabbard hanging from the bed post, and reclined on his bed again, the picture of casual ease. Ruby slammed her sword back into its scabbard and glared at Jack.
"What's all this about a mission? I thought we had a mission running down the Shub connection?"
"This takes precedence. Apparently all hell is breaking out on Loki, and Parliament wants us there yesterday. Shub will have to wait."
"Isn't it always the way," said Ruby. "Start out doing one thing, and the next minute you're being sent somewhere else."
"Story of my life," observed Finlay from the bed. "Let yourselves out. Try not to slam the door behind you."
Jack had to practically drag Ruby out of the room, but eventually they were gone, shutting the door reasonably quietly behind them, and Finlay was left alone again. He stared up at the ceiling, already forgetting his visitors. Just lately someone had been sending professional assassins after him. He didn't mind particularly. He was glad of the exercise. But none of them had lived long enough to name their employer, or how they knew where to find him. It could have been almost anyone. With all the enemies he'd made, he was lost for choice.
They were one of the reasons he'd decided to leave Golgotha and go after Valentine.
Not because he was worried for his own life, but because there was always the chance the assassins' thwarted employer might try to get at him by attacking those he cared about. Like Evangeline or Julian. And he couldn't risk that. Julian could probably take care of himself, but he couldn't guard Evangeline all the time. If only because she wouldn't let him. Evie was very protective of her privacy. He knew there were things about her, secrets, mysteries, that he didn't know, but he'd never pressed her. Finlay understood about secrets. He had enough of his own.
Evie was away again at the moment. Off doing something for the clone underground that he wasn't cleared to know about. For all their proud talk of equality and fraternity, the underground still didn't really trust anyone who wasn't a clone. Given how busy the underground had been keeping Evangeline, even though the rebellion was officially over, Finlay couldn't help wondering if they were trying to keep him and Evie apart. Because he was only a human. And a damned aristo, at that. Finlay smiled briefly. It was probably even simpler than that. The underground never had approved of him, even when they turned to him for the missions no one else could do. They thought he was crazy. And of course they were quite right. No sane person would have done what they wanted, taken the risks he had, and bathed in blood till it dripped from his soul.
The problem came when the Empire finally fell, and everyone expected him to be sane all of a sudden. He could have told them it didn't work like that. You couldn't go through all the things Finlay had, do what he had done, lose all he had, and still be entirely rational at the end of it. The only things keeping him even borderline sane were his love for Evangeline and his friend Julian Skye. They were his anchors. They kept him… balanced. Without them he had only himself, and he didn't know who that was anymore. He'd been many people in his time. The fop and dandy. The Masked Gladiator. The rebel fighter. The underground's assassin. Evie's love. Now all their voices clamored in his head at once, and he was lost in the bedlam.
He longed for action. For the thrill of the fight. Everything had been so simple then. You knew where you were. No shades of gray. No politics. Nothing to hold him back. Just do or fail. Win or lose. Live or die. And oh, the bloodred rush, the heart hammering in his breast, the joy at being the best there was, and oh, oh, the thrill of it all. The marvelous moment of murder. Nothing quite like it. Like an endlessly satisfying, endlessly addictive drug. Perhaps he had more in common with Valentine Wolfe than he thought.
Finlay scowled and made himself change the subject, turning his thoughts to the day's earlier events. He'd gone to see his extremely estranged wife, Adrienne, and their two children. He still wasn't sure why. Perhaps because they were the only part of his past life that wasn't touched by what he'd become. Finlay closed his eyes and let his mind drift back.
Adrienne opened the door almost before he'd finished knocking, as though she'd been waiting for him to arrive for some time. As it happened, he was exactly on time, but Adrienne never let facts get in the way of a good row. He bowed formally to her, and she sneered back at him. Finlay stepped forward, and Adrienne moved reluctantly back just enough to let him in.
"Wipe your boots on the mat, dammit. You're not at home now."
Finlay nodded calmly and gave his boots a good scraping. He was working hard on making a good impression, and not killing anyone he didn't absolutely have to. He wondered vaguely if he'd remembered to polish his boots before setting out. He tended to forget things like that unless Evie reminded him. The problem with being raised by servants… He smiled at Adrienne and fitted his pince-nez spectacles on the end of his nose.
"Oh, put those away, Finlay," said Adrienne testily. "You know perfectly well there's nothing wrong with your eyes."
"They're for show, not use," Finlay explained, in the patient, rational voi
ce he knew drove her mad. "They come with the outfit. But then, of course, you never did understand style, did you?"
"If it leads to wearing clothes like that, no. I've seen rainbows less colorful than that outfit. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen so many colors in one place before. What happened? You couldn't decide which color, so you wore them all at once?"
"Something like that." Once Finlay would have gone to great pains to explain exactly why he'd chosen these leggings and pointed shoes to go with this particular cutaway frock coat, and the importance of choosing just the right waistcoat to complement them, just because he knew how much it annoyed her, but he was still being on his best behavior, so he let the opportunity pass. "Still wearing basic black, Addie? It suits you. Brings out the color of your heart."
"I'm wearing it in hope of a funeral. Yours."
They smiled at each other, honors equal. Finlay looked ostentatiously about the narrow hall. "Where are the children, Addie? They are why I'm here."
Adrienne scowled. "They're in the parlor, of course, in their best clothes and on their best behavior, if they know what's good for them. And I do wish you wouldn't just call them the children. They do have names, you know."
"Yes. I know. Troilus and Cressida. You chose them. How old are they now?"
"Troilus is eight. He has a lot of your looks. Cressida is seven. She takes more after me, thank God. You should know their ages; I always sent you a reminder on their birthdays. Even though I always ended up having to buy the presents myself and pretend they came from you."
"My life was always very full," said Finlay, knowing it sounded like an excuse even as he said it. "And for a long time there was no room in it for anyone but me. But I like to think I've changed since then. When Evangeline came into my life, she woke things in me I never even knew were there. She helped to make me more… human. To be a man, like other men, and not just a killing machine, sleepwalking through life in between bouts in the Arenas. I'm not the man I was, Addie. I've tried so hard to put all that behind me."
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