by DC Bastien
"...yeah. If you leave me for a psycho in prison, we're gonna have words."
"If this goes right, then I won't even get to prison."
"But if it don't, then you're gonna have to. Or he'll know it was all faked," Biann said, cheerily. "Right?"
"Please try not to let my potential incarceration please you all so much. If you're going to bake a cake for yourselves, could you turn the oven on after I've left?"
"Spoilsport."
***
[Sianor: Question.]
[Ashroe: Yes?]
[Sianor: I know we'll be busy doing stuff, but will we do some writing when you get here?]
[Ashroe: Well, if you are happy to. The voices in my head would most assuredly thank you for it.]
[Sianor: YEY. I mean, not all the time. But some. I ask because we need to think about our posting schedule.]
[Ashroe: Ah yes! We need enough of a buffer, or to reduce the speed of updates temporarily.]
[Sianor: I was thinking every third day?]
[Ashroe: Works for me. Then if we end up with lots of stuff after, we can splurge for our fans.]
[Ashroe: Hah, 'fans'. Our three people who read every post.]
[Sianor: Other people do, but they wait for the updates :)]
[Ashroe: Hell, I'm happy if only one does. I'm still surprised we've got people following it, considering.]
[Sianor: Well, would you read it, if you weren't writing? And weren't a writer?]
[Ashroe: Damn skippy I would.]
[Sianor: There's your answer!]
***
Chapter Twenty-One – Mission: Defamation
Enforcer Avery, they called him. The title had nestled alongside his surname for the longest time. Most of his life, to be fair. He'd been 'Enforcer' for more than half of the days he'd breathed. He'd planned on keeping the title for a lot longer. Unlike Judges, who retained the title if not the authority after retiring, he'd have it until he died in office, successfully applied to become a Judge, or resigned his post. Well, unless it was stripped from him, like it was about to be.
He'd never really wanted to be a Judge. He'd entertained the thought that – maybe – he could do it one day. When chasing around got too energetic for him, in his dotage. It would still be helping people, still be the only life he knew how to live. Enforcer life expectancy was somewhat shorter than the average sentient being in other forms of employ, but it wasn't as if dying on the job was the rule. Well, not unless the Enforcer in question had a death wish, obviously. There were ways you could increase the chances you'd get shot in the head, but Avery had never wanted that.
The Coriolis was deliberately within reasonably easy reach of all the species' core worlds. When they'd worked out they needed a galactic law as well as their species-specific ones, there'd been consultation after consultation. Eventually they'd decided on separating the Ur's stronghold from every planet to show their impartiality. It was the first major space station to develop the 'golden mean' of temperature, oxygen and gravity that had become the standard for designers.
Sure, the station looked a little dated now. Even orbital architecture went through fashions and fads and the symmetrical rings down a long, central axis with docking points between each ring were very 'early union'. They'd tried to make it as inoffensive as possible to every eye, which meant it was equally unappealing to everyone. It was just dull, and there were no two ways about it.
Ithon had been before, but not often. Academy graduates passed out within the Coriolis, and other than that, most Ur Enforcers would never have cause to come back. Not unless they became part of the central administration... or were subject to some investigation serious enough to warrant calling in to HQ. He'd hoped he'd be brought here to be awarded some medal or recognition or other, not...
...not walked into the debriefing room. He'd surrendered his weapons at the front door. Not standard procedure, but he'd known they'd ask for them sooner or later. He felt naked without them – all of them – but it was less embarrassing than being frisked after.
They'd put him in here after verifying his identity, then given him a disposable cup of water and said someone would be along shortly to take his statement. He must not be deemed a risk to his own health because they'd left him with potential ligatures. He ran his finger over the soft side of the cup, feeling the chill draw heat out from his fingertip. He wasn't thirsty, but he didn't know how long they'd expect him to talk. If it was for a long while, he'd need all the vocal lubrication he could get.
Enforcer.
Maybe he wouldn't even be called that by the end of the day. Probably it would take longer to be official. Until he'd had judgement rendered. Right now, though, he'd be officially marked as under investigation. There were footsteps outside and the door opened to a taller-than-usual Sianar and a serious-looking Hleen.
"Do you wish to request legal counsel? Or do you have legal counsel you would like present, Enforcer?" the Hleen asked.
"No. I'm fine. I'm ready to tell you everything."
"If you wish at any point—"
"...to request counsel or an advocate, then I may stop the statement at that time. Yes. Thank you."
"Protocol," the Sianar said, a humourless smile on his lips.
"Can we please get this over with?"
***
[Ashroe: And, you asshole, you just invalidated it all.]
[Sianor: What?]
[Ashroe: Well, probably. I don't know for certain what the Ur rules are, but you usually have to be read your rights so you're aware of them, or it's all... invalid as evidence?]
[Sianor: So?]
[Ashroe: He just interrupted them. And although he's said the words they were going to, he could argue legalese that they didn't.]
[Sianor: Even though he did?]
[Ashroe: It wouldn't stand up, I'm sure, but he could be an ass about it. And he might, if he felt like being awkward and dragging it out. For personal or plot – I mean their plot – reasons.]
[Sianor: He's the kind that knows every minute reg.]
[Ashroe: Down to the sub point number, oh yes.]
[Sianor: Little shit.]
[Sianor: Vadim knows the terms, but not the numbers. Like, he'll go search up the citation number.]
[Ashroe: And Ith just calls it out if he's taking too long.]
[Sianor: Asdfghjkl.]
***
"You know this plan also sucks, right?"
"Twinkle, could you be any more to the point?"
"Someone needs to be."
The engineer leaned back against the kitchen counter, arms folded defensively over her chest. "And if he weren't so set on self-flagellation and martyrdom to somehow believe this absolves him... he'd be telling you that."
"You have a better plan?"
"Nope. But I wouldn't throw his career under the engine. And I wouldn't pin my hopes on foiling a kidnapping attempt. You know he has means. He killed Ail, remember?"
"That's why we're trying an emotional angle."
Biann watched her Captain pace up and down. He was going to wear a hole in the floor if he wasn't careful. She hadn't seen him this distressed in the longest of times, but she didn't know how to fix it. Didn't mean she wouldn't try.
Vadim's hands balled into fists, his chest rising and falling overly dramatically. Humans were much more obvious about their stress responses. Only Sianar were more blatant, she thought. Or maybe it was just that their reactions were different. She'd been around Hleen far more than the other species until she got older, so maybe Hleen reactions were over the top to everyone else?
"Okay. Well. It's done now."
"Why else would he drop his name if he didn't – if he didn't want Ith to know it was him? And why did he let him go before? Look. I know, I've got no right being jealous about someone he – in the past – before we... got together. But... what if he still has feelings for him?"
"You mean Avery for Baudeline, or the other way?"
"Yes."
She sigh
ed loudly. "Which?"
"Both."
"Well... if'n Baudeline still has feelings for him, can ya blame him? I mean, you do. Don't you?" She realised he'd never said as much in front of everyone, but as he'd only really had brief flings in all the time they'd known him, and this was the first time he'd done anything close to steady, that she'd just... assumed. "I mean, how many years were you apart and you still liked him?"
"I'd say 'like' was—"
Biann skipped closer and put a spatula over his mouth. "Nope. Shush. You have feelings for him, and you did all along. We all knew. Just... didn't know if you'd ever get your head from out your ass. Captain."
He rolled his eyes, but made no further attempt to speak. She decided the spatula stayed for now.
"If Baudeline likes him, so what? He's likeable. Not my type, but not everyone is. And you can't get jealous about someone else liking him. It's... it's if Ithon decided to pick him over you, that's as when you can be upset."
"What if he does?" It was muffled under the spatula, but it was a valid question.
"You really think he'd pick a criminal over you?" She swatted his mouth, then. "Silly! No. You saw how he reacted. He might have had feelings for him. Might still do. But there's some things that go – that make you not want something. Even if you like it. Like, say, I was allergic to rice cakes. And I loved rice cakes. But eating rice cakes would mean I was – well. In the bathroom for hours. Would I still eat rice cakes?"
"...possibly."
Another whack. "Okay, bad example. Maybe they made my skin go red and made me stop breathing and other gross stuff. What then?"
"...if there wasn't medication to stop it, then probably you wouldn't." Pause. "Unless you really, really wanted rice cakes."
She swatted his head then, really hard. So hard the reverberation travelled up the tool and into her wrist. "Stop it!"
"I don't know! I don't know what their relationship was like! What if Baudeline tries to convince him he's changed? Reformed? Or... or what if he tries to blackmail him into a relationship! He's an idiot. If he thought it would save the universe, you think he – you think he'd be able to say no?"
"If he said yes to that an' meant it, he'd be a bigger fool than you, Cap'n." Biann sometimes wished she could shake sense into people, she really, really did. "If he did that, it wouldn't be love. It'd be prostitution, and you know it."
"Well, what if I don't want him to prostitute himself?"
"Then you can want that, but ultimately? It's his body, his life. His choices. But he won't be happy, and you know it. And you won't stop trying to save him, even if he tells you to stop. So Baudeline would be pretty damn dumb to try that trick."
She watched as he crumpled, his strength seeming to go all at once. Slinking back, he found a chair and sat half on it. "I just... I... I love him. And I don't even think I told him, B. What sort of a man does that? Lets his – whatever we are – get arrested and don't even tell him he loves him?"
"The idiot he fell for," she pointed out. "Did he ever say it to you?"
"...no."
"You sure?"
"I'm fairly sure I'd remember if he told me he loved me, Biann."
Oh, real, full name. Telling. "Maybe not in those words, but he told you plenty. And you told him. And maybe when we get through this and everything's back to slightly more hunky of the dory kind... you can tell him for realsies."
"What if I—"
She grabbed both of his ears and tilted his head up to her. "No."
"No?"
"We're getting him back. We're family, remember? Even him. We're getting him back. And we're taking the nutjob down. And then you're gonna tell him you love him and make us all sick with your public displays of passive-aggression. And then you're gonna take me to Earth properly and show me around like I'm a lady, not a weirdo spy thing."
He tried to nod, but she was still holding his ears. Instead he glared belligerently at her in what passed for a 'yes'.
"Good," she said, and let go. "Now. Judge said the preliminary hearing thing would be over in an hour. And then we like as got two more before they move him."
"The Ardeshir ships are here, and the Roq."
"Shame me and Saidhe don't actually have anything special about us as could get us Hleen ones, too."
"Believe me, you're impressive enough without the collective might of your people," Vadim scoffed. "And I'm not sure I can take any more high society links. We're going to need to buy a red carpet at this rate. A long one. Run it through the whole of the ship."
"Do that and Kre might well kill you."
"It would be funny, though."
"For us? Yes. For you?"
"...still might do it."
***
[Ashroe: Biann would be such a great mother.]
[Sianor: Or aunty!]
[Ashroe: She'd love that. Imagine if Saidhe did decide to have kids. Maybe she adopts, maybe she marries for love. And then Biann would be teaching them all sorts of mechanical tricks and taking them out to see all the different ethnic groups and they'd just be the most super rounded kids ever.]
[Sianor: Trips to see the Za. The only Hleen to ever get a piggy-back ride from the Za incumbent. And as they seem to have twins regularly, there'd be one on each side, hands in her fur.]
[Ashroe: Making little ships for them to fly about in big, safe spaces. Like, super padded ships.]
[Sianor: Oh my GOD, they would totally have that! Like we have little normal cars, they'd have little flying cars!]
[Ashroe: Xaix letting them pull his tail. Kip wondering why the little bastard will tolerate the kids, but won't even give him his own chair.]
[Sianor: Learning the songs and games of all the different cultures. If they were still on board the ship, they'd have so many mommies and daddies.]
[Ashroe: There's something in my eye.]
[Sianor: Oh no!]
[Ashroe: Yeah, just feels.]
***
Chapter Twenty-Two – Mission: Interception
He wasn't an Enforcer any more. He was just... just Ithon Avery. Just an ordinary citizen, Earth-born, currently of no fixed abode. Sort of resident aboard the Messenger, but not even crew.
He had a small, nominal home in an apartment block back in the Sol system, out on Europa. He had owned a retirement home in the middle of nowhere, but that had been unofficial and no longer even really existed. Just a shell, winding itself down to nothing. He wondered if anyone would ever bump into it when exploring, or if it would disintegrate by degrees. If someone did find it, would they even wonder who had put it there? Why?
This maudlin reflection really wasn't helping any, but he had very little else to do. The four Enforcers who walked him to the transport ship resolutely avoided his eyes, which was fine. He'd have done the same thing in their position. He was disgraced, now. He'd come in one of them, and now they had to take him to the local processing facility for incarceration. He wore the plain, mint-green jumpsuit that marked him as an inmate on remand, not yet sentenced. There were cuffs around his wrists, linked together. Two more around his ankles, with a chain connecting those and then one fed up between both strands. He could possibly have picked the locks if he really wanted to, but he didn't.
Ithon sat on the bench, shuffling in the stiff, awkward fabric. It was designed to be slightly uncomfortable, without being inhumane. He was certain of that. They didn't go out of their way to make it painful, but they didn't bother to make it soft, either. The ship lifted – or dropped, direction was arbitrary – from the mooring point, the engines kicking in to push her towards the Whale line. He wondered which processing unit they'd pick. Would they go for the nearest one, on Venoria, or if they'd go for one of the higher security ones. He wasn't exactly a risk, as he'd come in voluntarily, but that didn't mean anything. They could risk-assess him much higher due to Baudeline, or his knowledge, or the fact that he'd put plenty of criminals away in his time. Criminals who might well want revenge.
He would find ou
t soon enough. Unless something happened first, of course.
***
"Captain, the Ardeshir are all within distance of the prisoner transport. There is also one on the closest Whales in preparation," Loap said.
"Okay. Great. Any sign of suspicious activity on any of the Whales?"
"None whatsoever," Saidhe said.
"We've done as much as we can," Kre said. She was hovering at the back of the bridge, with Biann.
Biann had Xaix on her shoulder, fingers stroking the little Ru to comfort herself. Kip didn't blame her one bit.
"Alright. Okay. Right. So..."
The viewscreen showed the transport ship waiting in the Whale line. It went on for far too long, even though it was a perfectly reasonable amount of time. The ship moved forwards, clamping on to the giant beast.
"Tell me how many ships we have on that Whale?"