Selena

by V Guy

  “Is this what you call bridge watch?” asked Evelyn, walking through the gate to reach him.

  Malik made a dismissive motion. “We’re heading to Salient. I’ve reconsidered my decision—we’ll start mapping now.”

  Evelyn’s eyes brightened. “Seventy-two modules are enough?”

  He chuckled. “We’ll have probably made numerous system mappings before we’re finished. Believe me, you’ll want those additional units.”

  She smiled. “Finally.”

  “Something else,” said Malik, pausing to consider his next words. “A fresh threat against me has arisen; it’s strong and local, but not immediate.”

  Her countenance fell. “You should’ve told everyone.”

  “I first sensed it two days ago.” He moved to the bridge hatch and made a sigh of disgust.

  “How should we prepare?”

  “The warning involves me alone, but we’ll review actions the crew could take.” He stepped across the threshold. “I surmise that it will happen when I’m away at interviews or in Marshall. Where else would I be affected when you weren’t?”

  “That’s all the time,” said Evelyn, frowning. “Are we to be alert every day?”

  Malik made a gesture of helplessness, glancing outward to observe the approaching darkness of space. “You’ve had excellent responses up until now. Try not to worry. It’s unlikely to happen soon.”

  “I need something to try.”

  He watched to gauge her response. “There is one thing.”

  58: Influence

  Day 907: Raven, Renaissance

  Captain Kroes lifted her head from her arm, wiping sleep from her eyes and brushing hair from her vision. Three monitors were active, the desk surface alive with open files; she groaned when she glanced at the time. Numerous cases on display awaited analysis or direction. She straightened and examined the various documents, determining the extent of her progress before she fell asleep.

  Contrary to Malik’s assertions, the CSA actually did other things than afflict him. The agency was responsible for managing investigations that spanned multiple systems, and assisted in planetary cases that had the potential to spill into other jurisdictions. Cooperation with planetary authorities and Fleet representatives cluttered busy days. Malik’s clandestine actions raised the complexity of her life, just as cleansing illegal, hidden activities within Central Security caused her headaches. The second feat had been a long, painful experience; its progress was assisted by the cause of the first one, and Kroes was obligated to conceal Malik’s deeds.

  This was tougher than secretly providing a host of data to Malik. Meeting his requirements for transferring the loads involved another set of delicate manipulations, and trimming names and contributions from investigations without making the changes obvious was challenging.

  The exercise felt like a rejection of her efforts to eliminate agency corruption and favoritism and stirred rebellion within her. The new cases triggered by his activity meant that most of her people were insanely busy with investigations; they should miss her alterations. It was one of the few upsides she could fathom.

  As a tool, Malik was astonishingly efficient. As a contractor, he was prohibitively expensive. She questioned the value of knowing her lover’s killers after seeing the burden required to fulfill his requests. The deal was sealed however. Kroes needed to endure.

  She moved through her files and finished reading the synopses provided by her widely distributed staff. Fresh instructions were sent to the regional supervisors and meetings were arranged. Kroes closed the displays and moved to her bunk.

  Her ship, Raven, was once a secure courier that now only transported her and her commandos. Its small cargo holds were converted into living quarters and support facilities, new defensive weaponry was added to supplement the craft’s meager arsenal, larger fuel tanks were installed, and upgraded reactors meant better control responsiveness. It became her home during the multi-week trips to field offices.

  It was small. A shower, toilet, and sink area qualified as the bathroom, and the locker, bunk, and desk section were her office and living space. Fatigue weighed heavily upon her. Malik’s actions were troubling.

  She was resting her head against her pillow when her console chimed. After a short debate on whether she should address the message, she rose and opened it. One of the people to whom she had just delegated a task was indicated as hospitalized. She was curious and inquired. The cause of the man’s infirmity chased away her fatigue and raised alarm, and a blanket query for emergency room admissions during the previous two weeks revealed additional, similar cases.

  Malik, she thought, steaming inside. She assigned other personnel and assets to cover the man’s absence then went to bed, pondering how she would deal with the creature and this new complication.

  Sleep came with difficulty. Kroes awakened tired yet maintained her routine: exercise, shower, breakfast, and a host of conferences with investigators. Lunch and more sessions, plus examination of fresh evidence filled the afternoon. Assignments and supper followed. The trouble surrounding Malik shadowed her all day, a partial salve came to her perturbed mind in the afternoon, and she arranged another appointment. The time arrived; she reclined against her pillow and activated her skull interface.

  ***

  Kroes’s Xist waiting room was marvelously more expansive than her small quarters, and she moved to a recliner to stretch and relax. She was resting her eyes when Idris Fael appeared in the entry foyer.

  “Come in,” she said, motioning. “Are you well?”

  He paused and looked at her suspiciously. “You want something.”

  Kroes smiled. “I do.”

  Fael glanced around the area. “You’re not in public office.”

  “And may never be.” She straightened and tilted her head. “I don’t recall that being a requirement.”

  He frowned as he considered the clarification. “I’ve received the selected pieces. What’s on your mind?”

  She stood and strolled to him, producing images of three pieces from Britton’s collection that found their way to Fael. “I would like a favor that I believe would compensate for these items.” She stopped by his side. “I want you to ensure that Malik avoids the death penalty.”

  Fael froze. “Malik?”

  “Yes. You have a relationship with him.”

  “It took care of my grandchildren,” he said, furrowing his brow. “That’s all.”

  “That’s significant. What do you say the value of my request would be?”

  “You’re law enforcement; you can do it.”

  “I need to be impartial, especially in this instance.”

  Fael paused then paced the room. “There are many factors involved. The creature’s impact is slowly coming to light, and many people who didn’t realize they help grudges against it now do. Some of those people will weigh in on its disposal.”

  “You’re an influence peddler. How would I guarantee he gets auctioned?”

  “Guarantee?” he asked, starting. “That’s practically impossible.”

  Kroes smiled. “But not absolutely impossible.”

  “I don’t know everyone with a grievance.” Fael pondered the matter. “Blanket coverage to assure this would be costly and time intensive. Has a judge been appointed?”

  She shook her head.

  He scowled and looked away. “It’s difficult to assure. Relationships guide these exchanges, and there aren’t enough of me to make as many as quickly as necessary.”

  “But you know people who know people, and those people know people.”

  “The price will be steep,” said Fael, cradling his chin in his hand. “I can make the effort and convince a wider swath of listeners, but fate often has its way with events. I want another piece. Plus, I’ll need assistance.”

  “Assistance?”

  “From someone who has a wider range of ears than I. Someone who would have access to information from a different sort of clientele.”


  She nodded, considering his request. “You’ll know what I know. Follow me.”

  They entered the door behind her and stepped into a museum. The balance of Britton’s collection was present. Kroes stood aside and presented the display with her right arm. “Make your choice.”

  Fael was stunned, looking in disbelief as he approached the closest item. “How do you have these?”

  “Hersh can’t display them and are holding them in protected storage. Your selection could be delivered in three days.”

  His incredulity remained, but his focus sharpened to examine the items. After visiting three of their podiums, he looked about in dismay. “How could I make a decision? It’s too many.”

  Kroes smiled. “Take your time. The exhibit will be left available for extended evaluations. Can I assume that one of these will meet with your approval?”

  He made a quick, energetic nod.

  “Then I have an additional request.”

  Fael paused. “I’ve not begun the first.”

  “It’s fairly straightforward,” she said, approaching him. “If Malik lives, he’ll be sold. If he’s to be sold, I want it to be by auction. I want you to buy him. You can help arrange the first, can encourage the second, and can ensure the third.”

  He bit his lip, hiding his anticipation. “What’s the compensation?”

  “Anything and everything here.”

  His eyes widened, and he shook his head. “That’s another guarantee I can’t make.”

  Kroes’s friendly manner faded. “You’re an extremely rich man.”

  “But not the only one.” He let his gaze touch the items. “There are other people who appreciate rarities.”

  “Rarities?”

  “Yes,” he replied, continuing his perusal of the items. “Malik is one of a kind. By my investigations, I can confidently say the creature found a treatment for Tack and constructed viable clones. The crew survived multiple trips to Catricel, and I can assure you that buyers would attribute that success to Malik. Its skills of engineering and design were well showcased at Angelis and the channel runs to Asile and Evaline. Malik’s combat prowess is a given—Angelis, Harris, rumors at Asile, and an unsubstantiated Evaline demonstrate that. The creature also has an excellent eye for value, as indicated by its recorded choices at auctions. Now that Malik has wings, it’ll have a fresh audience; if it could fly, the creature’s value could rise dramatically. Finally, there’s the mystique—it inspires imagination.”

  “Give me a sum.”

  “Malik’s value is immeasurable.” Fael turned and shrugged. “How do you place a price on such a creature? It has demonstrated intelligence, loyalty, creativity, and capability. It’s not a wild animal; It’s the epitome of possibility, and people pay well for that.”

  Kroes watched the man. “Make the attempt to gain him.”

  “You’re overlooking a very important problem—Malik’s owner may decide to maintain control.”

  She made a snort. “Even with the kind of money dangled before them?”

  “Some people wouldn’t sell for any price,” he replied, chuckling. “I can tell you that for a fact. I can also tell you that no matter the influence, I couldn’t guarantee the owner preserving Malik for herself.”

  “What are you implying?” Kroes narrowed her eyes.

  “I’ve done some research. Malik mangled Marina Kay’s husband. What’s to say that she wouldn’t choose to have the creature killed in the most painful manner possible?”

  Kroes hesitated. “She wouldn’t.” Her tone was certain, but her expression was otherwise.

  “You want my one-hundred-percent guarantee; can you make a one-hundred-percent guarantee?” He watched her for a moment and began working the exhibits. “After a little thought, I believe I can ensure that no outside influence demands Malik’s death. I’m afraid however, that my efforts will only increase the value and raise my costs. To address another concern, Malik has been working with law enforcement. They might choose to retain the creature. They might pull it from the market.”

  “There’s internal pressure concerning his assistance. They’ll relinquish him.” Kroes circled in thought. “I believe I can also guarantee the owner won’t kill him.”

  “Can you guarantee that she’ll not simply sell Malik but instead sell at auction?”

  She pondered a moment. “I believe both can be obligated.”

  “Believe?”

  Irritation showed on her face. “I can guarantee both; it’ll take a little finagling, that’s all.”

  Fael stopped to scrutinize her. “Why not take Malik yourself? Why go through this long, circular dance?”

  Kroes eyed him. “You’re the one buying him.”

  “And you’re the one paying.” He moved to the sculpture of a sea serpent and stroked the creature’s flanks. “I was never intended to keep the creature, was I?”

  “It’s complicated,” she said, turning away and moving from the chamber. Fael followed. “He’s resistant, determined, and dangerous. You and the creature have a connection of sorts. I don’t think he’d kill you.”

  Fael dropped his jaw in disbelief. “You’re CSA.”

  She shrugged. “Plus, he represents the very mindset Central Security is trying to eliminate. Taking possession of him sends the wrong message.”

  “Incarceration?”

  “Collusion. If you own him, I could borrow him without the same worry. Also, you’d offer him a freedom that he might not desire escaping. We’re different. The moment he broke my captivity, we’d be obligated to kill him.”

  Fael indicated the item he desired and made a private smile. “There’s no borrowing of Malik’s services—you buy them. You’d best start looking now; you may run out of antiques.”

  She nodded amiably and watched as he disconnected. A calculating snarl formed to replace the expression. I don’t need to take him now; I’ll simply take him from you later.

  59: Focus

  Day 915: Pathfinder

  Evelyn Meadows strode to the simulator to meet Malik, responding to his request from over the ship’s intercom. There was nothing particularly urgent in his tone, and when she entered the chamber, she was quickly taken aback.

  Her appearance in an active program came in the middle of a room. It was a spacious patio/living area, the wall behind her fully transparent and rounding the corner to continue for a third of the distance along the side walls. The interior walls and floors were white; black contrasting chairs, tables, rugs, and sculptures filled the middle of the room; and colorful artwork hung on the walls. The wall before her was a full-length, mirrored wet bar and stools, with all of the furnishings obeying the room’s themes. The one feature that disobeyed the rules of decor was the attractive, thirtyish-looking woman in a clinging red dress cowering in the corner. She stared at Evelyn in confused surprise.

  Evelyn glanced at the woman, looked around the room, then at Malik, whose presence kept the woman cornered. “If you wanted to give us a venue to celebrate, you could have at least included a receptive hostess. Where are we?”

  “Earth,” he replied, watching the woman like a bored cat. “This is her home. You could afford it, but you wouldn’t have the political connections to keep it.”

  “Me afford this? Is she selling?”

  “All I have is yours; yes, you could afford it.” Malik pointed at the woman. “Her children might choose to sell.”

  “I’m assuming you’re explaining?”

  He looked at her and sighed, as if she had just ruined a joke. “One of my consultations in Marshall involved the abduction of Councilman Hagar, the primary opponent to Proposition Eighty-Five, a particularly bad piece of legislation for the expansion worlds. This is Councilwoman Hill. She is the one responsible for leaking Hagar’s itinerary, arranging for his abduction, and promoting his hosts’ murders. She was also a sponsor of the legislation in question.”

  Evelyn narrowed her eyes and peered at the woman. “A person this young is on the
council?”

  Malik made a sarcastic snort. “She’s one hundred thirty-nine and has been on the council for eighty years.”

  “No,” said Evelyn, her eyes widening. “You’re kidding.”

  “Not at all. Her heart is five years old, her liver and kidneys are ten years old, her lungs are twelve years old, she has had complete bone rebuilding/reinforcement done, anti-aging brain treatments, mental perception enhancements have extended her cranial capacity, whole body skin renewal has been done numerous times, and multiple facial-sculpting sessions have been endured. Even her eyes aren’t original.”

  She scowled. “You can tell that just by looking at her?”

  “I learned that by interrogating her.”

  “Why did her attempts to stay young interest you?”

  He growled. “They are among the drivel that comes with everything else. She isn’t what she appears to be, that’s all.”

  “I’m guessing I’m here to learn about something other than how to stay young.”

  “Yes. You’re here because you were critical of my initial plans for revenge.”

  Evelyn studied the woman and pondered the ramifications. “I’ll bet she has seen a lot in eighty years.”

  “Many things,” said Malik. “Several resolutions relating to Paradise were reviewed by her. The initial series of mercantile restrictions, the retraction of rights, the internments, the deportations, the war, and finally the denial of surrender. She voted for them all.”

  Hill straightened and glared at him.

  “Catricel was a similar matter. Again, every resolution leading to the extermination of the planet’s occupants met her approval. Only reluctantly did she approve of the relief project—public pressure meant nothing, but the possibility of damaged profits did. When the Salient project emerged, she was overwhelmingly supportive. Between receiving a portion of the profits and getting kickbacks from interdiction technology and treatment centers, she made a killing.”