Consequences

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  “Yes,” she answered in the same language. “By the end of the day, we’ll both know what you can do.”

  Ten

  “How many of these people are there?” Arek Soseki stood at the wall of windows in his office, staring at the rooftops of Armstrong and their matching reflections in the dome. He had hooked his thumbs in the back pockets of his pants, ruining the lines of his suit and probably wrinkling it as well.

  “She gave us a list of two dozen, but she’ll settle for six,” said Hans Londran, Soseki’s assistant. Londran was a small, dapper man who seemed to know everything from proper attire for political functions to the details of internecine conflict between tribes in small cities on far-off worlds.

  “She brought them all with her, I assume,” Soseki said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Soseki shook his head. No one had told him that the purpose of this Earth Alliance meeting was about Etae. If they had, he would not have allowed the conference to take place in his city. He would have even contacted the Moon’s governor-general, and argued that the conference shouldn’t be held anywhere near the surface.

  Etae’s civil wars may have ended ten years before, but Soseki didn’t believe the bitterness was over. He had studied Etae when he was getting his Intergalactic Relations degree from Harvard, back when Soseki believed he would rather be a diplomat than a politician. He had studied Etae when he was getting his Intergalactic Relations degree from Harvard, back when Soseki believed he would rather be a diplomat than a politician. This was one non-Moon issue that he probably knew more about than Londran.

  “Who did they send to talk to me?” Soseki asked.

  “The Earth delegation sent one of their junior diplomats. He’s quite apologetic.”

  “I’ll bet.” Soseki shook his head slightly. What a mess. Not only was Anatolya Döbryn here, a woman rumored to be one of the greatest mass murders of all time or one of the greatest military minds, depending, of course, on which of the many sides a person took in the Etaen conflict, but she had brought an entourage without clearing them first, and now refused to leave the Port without them accompanying her.

  “Do we have a list of names?” he asked.

  Londran shrugged. His suit’s lines were never ruined, and always looked as fresh as it had when it hung in his closet. His hair—colored half a dozen shades of black—had been cut in layers, going from dark to light. The effect made him seem youthful, even though he was nearly two decades older than Soseki.

  “She provided names,” he said. “Half of them do not show up in any database.”

  “And of course, she doesn’t want us to do a DNA ident,” Soseki said.

  “Mr. Vallin does not know,” Londran said. “He hasn’t spoken to her directly. The problem was relayed to him by the attaché assigned to escort Ms. Döbryn from the Port to her hotel.”

  “Where they registered her under a fake name, I assume.” Soseki let the bitterness he felt come out. He knew that Londran would be discreet about it.

  “They didn’t have to register her under a fake name, sir,” Londran said. “The Alliance has blocks reserved at four of the main hotels. Apparently, they were going to put her up in a suite.”

  “And none of these people thought it curious that a member of the ruling council of Etae, a government that’s not exactly the most stable in the universe, would come without bodyguards or assistants?”

  Londran shrugged. “I only report what they told me. I can’t vouch for their intelligence or lack thereof.”

  “I don’t suppose we can contact the governor-general and get some of the Guard here,” Soseki said.

  “The whole idea of the meeting was that it would get no publicity,” Londran said. “If you so much as request the Guard, then the publicity will start, and that violates our agreement with the Alliance.”

  Soseki bit back a curse, a habit he’d gotten into since he ran for office. Better not to ever swear than to let the voters think his mouth was as foul as it was.

  “I can’t approve this quickly,” Soseki said. “I’ll have to meet with the governor-general, and we’ll have to do it in person and in private. That’ll take a time to set up.”

  “Döbryn is waiting in Port,” Londran said.

  Soseki shrugged. “That’s not my problem. Send her back to her ship. She can stay there. Or, if she complains, have Space Traffic Control send them out of Moon Space. They’ll have to apply for reentry.”

  Then he paused, feeling odd. He leaned against his desk.

  “How did she get through Space Traffic in the first place? Who approved her landing?”

  “Again, blanket issue for the diplomats,” Londran said. “They had her ship’s name and its codes amongst theirs.”

  “Bastards,” Soseki said, breaking his own rule. “They were sneaking her in.”

  “It seems that way,” Londran said.

  “Well, if they complain about this, remind them of that. We have strict rules in this dome, and they’re done for the safety of the dome. The rules apply to everyone. Make sure the Alliance knows that from now on.”z

  “Yes, sir.” Londran spoke with an automatic obedience, which implied that he felt the job he had to do was a waste of time.

  “And send that list to my desk, would you?” Soseki would look over the names himself. Even though his knowledge was decades old, it might still be valuable.

  “Right away,” Londran said, and then let himself out of the office.

  Soseki leaned against the desk for a moment longer, trying to restrain his fury. He had known that the diplomats would be a problem. He had made a calculated choice, and it had bitten him in ways he hadn’t even suspected.

  The risk to the dome infuriated him. The fact that he had been played infuriated him even more.

  He pushed away from the desk and paced the room, wishing he was more than a mayor, wishing he was the governor-general, a person with some clout in the Earth Alliance. He would make this into a public incident, let the Alliance and its peoples know that they couldn’t threaten domed cities with their special interests and ways around the rules.

  Maybe he’d bring this before the governor-general at the meeting as well. She had a second home in Armstrong. She understood the threats to the dome, and she knew that what affected one dome could affect the entire Moon. Maybe she would step forward and speak out to the Alliance.

  Although he doubted it. To speak out against the Alliance would take political courage that the governor-general did not have.

  Soseki walked around his desk, and was about to sit when the doors to his office banged open. A man he had never seen before stormed in, Londran scurrying behind him.

  “You cannot be here,” Londran was saying. “You are not cleared to meet with the mayor. You—”

  “I don’t give a damn,” the man said. “Mayor Soseki?”

  Soseki took his hands off the arms of his chair and rose to his full height. “No one’s allowed in this office without Mr. Londran’s approval.”

  The man ignored him. “You are causing an intergalactic incident.”

  So this was the junior diplomat the Alliance had sent to negotiate with him.

  “If you don’t leave,” Soseki said, “we’ll have security arrest you.”

  Londran put his hand on the man’s arm. The man shook him off.

  “You won’t,” the man said. “I’m Locke Vallin. I’m a diplomat with the Earth Alliance. I was sent here to get Ms. Döbryn’s bodyguards approved through your customs. You can’t arrest me.”

  “I can,” Soseki said, even though he knew the charges wouldn’t stick. “The situation could be embarrassing for all concerned.”

  “Particularly a young mayor of a major Alliance city, a man with political ambitions,” Vallin said.

  Soseki raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t thought this square, broad-shouldered man with thinning hair that even enhancements couldn’t improve would have this much fight in him.

  “Are you threatening me?” Sosek
i asked.

  “I’m merely stating facts.” Vallin raised his chin slightly. He was shorter than Soseki, but heavier and more tailored. He also had a deceptive blandness, one that probably hid every thought. “A man with political ambitions should not take on the Alliance.”

  “A man with political ambitions does not let two dozen unknown people into his dome without the proper background checks, particularly if those people are from as unstable a world as Etae.”

  Vallin turned with the precision of a military man, and looked down his nose at Londran. “You can leave us.”

  “He’s my assistant,” Soseki said. “He takes orders from me. Escort Mr. Vallin out of the office, please, Hans.”

  Londran’s hands hovered near Vallin’s arms. “Come with me, sir.”

  “No,” Vallin said. “I need to have this discussion with Mayor Soseki in private.”

  “Call security,” Soseki said to Londran. “Have them standing by.”

  “I’ve already done so through my links, sir.”

  Soseki loved how efficient his assistant was. “Then wait for me outside. I’ll let you know if I want security in here.”

  Londran blinked once, a sign of surprise, and then nodded. He backed out of the room, keeping his gaze on Vallin, almost like a warning.

  So Londran didn’t like the man and didn’t trust him. It was unusual for Londran to be so blatant about his reactions.

  “What’s so important that my assistant can’t hear?” Soseki asked.

  “I need you to shut your links down,” Vallin said. “This is a confidential conversation.”

  “I don’t know you, Mr. Vallin. I’m already giving you considerable leeway. I’ll leave my links intact, and should I decide later that this conversation is off the record, then I’ll delete it, with a copy of these two statements covering the deletion. That’s the best I can do.”

  “It’s not good enough,” Vallin said.

  “Fine.” Soseki sat down, and slid his chair into his desk. “This meeting is over.”

  “Mr. Mayor, please. This is important to the entire Alliance.”

  “My concern, as a mayor with political ambitions—” He stressed the last six words, to let Vallin know that the insult had sunk in “—is my apparently insignificant city. I don’t care about the Alliance or its politics. So, if you want to talk with me, you have exactly one minute. Or I will call security and have you escorted from the building. And, since I am a mayor with political ambitions in a city that doesn’t always like Alliance policies, I will call the media to record your humiliation. Is that clear?”

  “You’re out of your league, Mr. Soseki.”

  No “Mayor” this time.

  “But you’re in my office, Mr. Vallin, so you clearly need me for something.”

  Vallin let out a disgusted breath. “All right. Swear to me this will be deleted.”

  “If I deem it confidential, I most surely will,” Soseki said. “You have my word.”

  He spoke laconically, as if he weren’t as angry as Vallin. In truth, Soseki was probably angrier. He hated being treated as insignificant.

  “You have to let Döbryn and her company out of the Port,” Vallin said.

  “I have to?” Soseki crossed his arms. “Really? Why?”

  “She’s the reason for our meeting.”

  “You’re negotiating with Anatolya Döbryn?”

  “She’s an important member of their council,” Vallin said.

  “She’s one of the most ruthless generals in the history of warfare,” Soseki said, “and, frankly, not someone I want in my dome.”

  Vallin gave Soseki a slow smile. “So, you consider yourself an expert on Etae?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “And yet you believe her to be a problem,” Vallin said.

  “Alone, probably not,” Soseki said. “But with two dozen of her henchmen, people whom I can’t run though the proper background checks, yes, I do believe her to be a problem.”

  “What do you fear?” Vallin asked. “That she’ll attack your dome? She wants her world to join the Alliance. She won’t hurt any of us.”

  “The current leadership of Etae used to express contempt for the Alliance,” Soseki said. “Why would they want to join now?”

  “That’s what we’re here to find out,” Vallin said.

  “I don’t even understand why you’re interested. Etae has been at war for so long, the planet can’t have many resources. It’s impoverished and too far away to be of much strategic use.”

  “Yes,” Vallin said. “I can see how someone in your position would think that.”

  “Care to enlighten me?” Soseki asked.

  “I would,” Vallin said, “but you refuse to shut down your links and I cannot risk the confidentiality issues.”

  Soseki couldn’t take any more. For a diplomat, Vallin was not very good at negotiation. “And I can’t risk my dome. So I’m going to refuse entry to Döbryn and her people.”

  “You can’t refuse entry to Döbryn,” Vallin said. “She’s under our blanket.”

  “I had no idea you were trying to smuggle in known terrorists,” Soseki said. “I’m of a mind to rescind your entire blanket permission. Who knows what other kinds of people you have brought into my dome?”

  “Is that a threat, Mr. Soseki?”

  “No, sir,” Soseki said. “It’s a bit of policy that I’ll be considering with the help of my advisors. Your group has abused your diplomatic privilege. I’m sure, if tried in the court of public opinion, your case would lose.”

  “But diplomacy isn’t tried in the court of public opinion,” Vallin said. “Of necessity, we deal in secret. If we didn’t, we wouldn’t make the headway that we do.”

  “I don’t see headway. All I see, given the information you’ve shared with me, is a serious threat to the safety of my dome and of the Moon herself. So, I stand by my position, Mr. Vallin.”

  “You may lose that position, Mr. Soseki.”

  Even the “Mr.” was beginning to annoy him.

  “I’m an elected official,” Soseki said. “No matter how much I irritate you, you can’t get me out of office.”

  Vallin smiled. The look did not reach his eyes. “Don’t tempt me, Mr. Soseki.”

  Soseki sat down at his desk. He tapped a screen and it rose, blocking the view of Vallin’s face. “You may leave us now, Mr. Vallin.”

  Soseki used the same tone that Vallin had when he gave that order to Londran.

  Vallin inhaled sharply. He started to argue, and then he spun, clearly furious, and headed out the door.

  Soseki counted to ten, then leaned forward, resting his forehead in his hand. This would have tremendous repercussions—not just for him, but for the dome, and maybe even the Moon itself.

  But he couldn’t, in good conscious, let that woman manipulate her entourage into Armstrong. And Soseki didn’t want her there in the first place.

  He pressed a chip on his hand, opening his audio link to Londran.

  “Get the governor-general for me, would you, please?” Soseki asked. “Tell her it’s urgent.”

  Time to do damage control. Somehow he had to protect both his dome—and his career.

  Eleven

  DeRicci didn’t explain her thoughts on the crime to anyone. The theory was still young, and subject to change. And she’d found that explaining a theory might make everyone look for evidence to fit that theory. It was dangerous enough that she had one—she certainly didn’t want the others to form around her.

  All she had told them was that she wanted to see if the perp had dropped the weapon. The techs began by rolling the furniture back so that DeRicci and Cabrera could peer under it.

  DeRicci crouched. She found nothing beneath the chairs, just like she had expected.

  This case already intrigued her. Why hadn’t one of the victims sent an emergency message through the links? There had to have been time; all it took to send such a message was a brief instance of thought. Even with
the others dying, one of these people should have had that instant to send for help.

  “Done,” Cabrera said as the techs set the last chair down.

  DeRicci straightened, heard her back crack in three separate places, and walked to one of the techs.

  The woman was half DeRicci’s size. She was slight and muscular, and had more link chips glittering on her skin than DeRicci had ever seen on one human being.

  “Let’s lift the body,” DeRicci said.

  “Which one?” The tech asked.

  “The one without the face.”

  DeRicci caught Cabrera’s wince out of the corner of her eye. He looked away, as if he couldn’t stomach the idea of touching one of the corpses.

  “We’ll do it, sir,” the other tech said. “It’s part of our job anyway.”

  “Fine.” DeRicci said, and stepped back, careful to avoid as much of the blood pool as possible, and to stay away from the furniture.

  The two techs flanked the faceless body, and paused.

  “What part do you want us to lift?” the woman asked.

  “Roll her to one side, and then the other.” DeRicci wanted to see all of the floor beneath that particular body. If there was no weapon beneath it, she would have to revise her theory. Then she’d have the techs move the other two.

  The techs rolled the corpse toward the windows. The corpse’s back made a sucking sound as it separated from the floor.

  DeRicci crouched again, her knees creaking in protest. The floor beneath the corpse was a black mess of blood and tissue. Most of the fluids from the head had seeped downward, congealing in an obvious dip in the floorboards.

  It took a bit of work to separate the congealed blood from the bits of hair and fabric. Lumps that looked solid were not—they were simply places where the fluids had gathered.

  DeRicci was about to stand when she looked at the back of the corpse. A small laser pistol, barely the size of DeRicci’s hand, had adhered to the corpse’s spine.

  Before calling attention to it, she said, “Detective Cabrera, if I let you return to the station, what’ll you do to further this investigation?”