In Case Of Emergency Break Fourth Wall (The Messenger Archive Book 3)

by DC Bastien

  "We are safe, and that's all you need to know," his captor told him.

  Ithon wondered if the man would have the brass balls to put them somewhere in core space, or if he'd burn gas to sit in some black zone away from civilisation. Something like his own (now defunct) retirement home. Probably the latter, though after his 'stealing an Ur prisoner' trick, he was re-evaluating how much of a show-off his ex-boyfriend really was. He'd never have expected that, or even the name-dropping when they'd parted ways. Baudeline had been intensely private, though that was perhaps explained by his choice of extra-curricular activities.

  The room Baudeline took him to was straight past three turnings before the fourth on the left, then past three doors on the right. Important to map things out. He had a relatively even stride, so if they took him to enough places he might be able to map out the dimensions of the ship. All the walls were undecorated and stripped of any information (like fire safety, corridor identifiers, part names), meaning he had no idea what make she was.

  This room was more homey, and it screamed Baudeline. The fabrics were all that soft, Earth-sky blue he favoured; a screen showing blue flames over artificial logs dominating one wall. He'd always been one of those pretentious readers, displaying a shelf full of replicated book titles. The image shifted every few minutes, flickering to reveal more 'spines' on the screen. Knowing him, unlike some, those would be books he had read. Once upon a time Ithon had found that endearing.

  Baudeline's suite was several rooms large, it looked like. The bedroom and bathroom sections were hidden from view, and they walked in on a slightly partitioned hallway that opened onto that living room on one side, the dining room on the other. The table was black and red panelled wood, curved and turned. It looked like the whole piece was made out of two slabs perfectly cut to swirl in and out of one another. It sat atop eight legs with the four black ones curled around the red. The surface was whorled sections of one then the other coming through the gaps, like the froth on a good cup of coffee sanded flat to look seamless.

  The chairs matched, of course: alternatively solid red and then solid black. Ithon wondered if the woods were naturally that colour, stained, or manipulated when growing to produce such vibrant hues. When gestured, he took the seat with the place already made, one that directly faced a second. Baudeline moved to sit, then clicked his fingers.

  "How may I serve you?" came a familiar, emotionless voice.

  Ithon was startled to see a cylindrical robot roll soundlessly in. There was another of those single aperture points close to their current eye-level. Doubtless Pax's physical presence expanded or contracted depending on the situation. Not that that was any less creepy. Chameleon robots always unsettled him because what did you consider their natural form? They didn't have one.

  "Would you care for a beer with me?" Baudeline asked.

  "Non-alcoholic, please."

  "You're not driving anywhere, and I'm not trying to get you drunk to take advantage of you."

  "Nevertheless, I would appreciate a non-alcoholic beer, Pax." He addressed that straight to the robot, so there would be no confusion.

  "A regular beer for me. Then please bring out the nachos."

  Nachos. And beer. And doubtless little tubs of salsa and jalapenos and also some melted cheese drizzled on top. It was actually a meal they'd never shared, and he was sure he'd only mentioned in passing that he had a fondness for it, so the sudden insistence on authentic Mexican cuisine was worryingly stalkerish.

  Pax opened up the front of its bin-shaped torso, internal 'arms' pulling out the various plates, bowls and dishes that it had been keeping warm inside. Even creepier.

  "So. Who have you had killed today?" Ithon asked, between the sour cream and – what even was that yellow monstrosity?

  "Ithon!"

  "I'm sorry, is that main course material?"

  "We don't discuss work at the table. And no, there's no one been killed."

  "By you, or by your people as a wh—"

  Baudeline's hand slapped palm-flat onto the table, his eyes sharpening. "This is a meal. Not a political debate."

  "I'm afraid I can't just turn off justice, Baud. I thought you realised that. Ten years ago."

  "If I promise to discuss it with you once we've eaten, will you please just enjoy the food?"

  Ithon was hungry, and possibly tormenting his captor excessively wasn't his best idea. "Alright."

  "We will discuss it. I swear. But first, can we just dine as two old friends? No matter what happened between us later, we were friends, once."

  Right. Before he turned out to be a closet criminal.

  ***

  Chapter Twenty-Six – Mission: Edition

  "I'm here to officially thank you for your assistance with the Ur inquest," Peters said. "All of you."

  "Well, we didn't exactly do much," Biann mumbled. "We free to go?"

  "Indeed. Our connection to Ithon means we cannot be impartial. Or, should I say, it means I cannot be impartial. So they will look into the evidence we have provided and do their own investigations."

  "And what's to bet that whoever he's got in his pocket... nope. Ignore me," Vadim grumbled. "They'll find plenty of bad and wrong, and then they'll find him, and we'll all get medals and maybe I can have a normal week for a change."

  "We tried to avoid the Ur," the Judge said, gently enough. "We tried to find the information amongst ourselves. And that method failed, so we have to live with what we have now."

  "Where to... next?" Loap's hands hovered over his controls, ready to start charting the journey.

  Biann watched as the Captain's mind whirled all but visibly. They had no mission, no job, no... anything. Well, they had a mission, but no way to complete it.

  "Wherever. Just... get us to the nearest Whale. We can make our minds up where we go on the way."

  That wasn't how you navigated. You didn't just drift aimlessly through space, but where did they go? The mad Whale had gone in whatever direction it had gone, and now they had to let the Ur do the hard work.

  Biann realised she only knew that Ithon was from Earth, and that was it. From Earth. Had a house she'd turned into a ship. Dating her Captain. Once an Enforcer. That was... it. What did he like, other than justice? Who would mourn him, other than the six aboard the Messenger?

  "Okay," Loap said, glancing up at Saidhe.

  "I'll... yeah. Whale."

  ***

  [Ashroe: You know, I bet there isn't anyone. And that made me sad.]

  [Sianor: If he'd died before our fic, like, in canon...]

  [Ashroe: He'd just be dead. Mourned by no one. No one to notify, no one to attend the funeral service. I doubt Kip kept an eye on the obits for that. Maybe Mes would find it and tell him.]

  [Sianor: That's awful.]

  [Sianor: Write it.]

  [Ashroe: What?]

  [Sianor: You heard me: write it. I want to read it.]

  [Ashroe: It's just heartwrenching, utter, nasty, sobbing into your shirt angst!]

  [Sianor: Yes, and I want it. I want it, and I'm your girlfriend, so you should give it to me.]

  [Ashroe: There is something fundamentally wrong with you.]

  [Sianor: Yes. Where do you want to start on that list?]

  [Ashroe: Okay... but if I write it, then you draw me some absolutely adorable Space Boyfriend fanart. No death. None.]

  [Ashroe: Maybe they adopt a kitten. Or a Ru.]

  [Sianor: Deal.]

  ***

  "Mes..."

  "Yes, Biann?"

  "Could... could you tell me stuff about Ithon?"

  "What kind of 'stuff' do you mean?"

  She had to go and ask that, didn't she? It was an intangible, half-formed, nebulous idea at the moment. If she knew what she was asking for, she'd have said so. Still... fingers wandering over the humming part closest to the main engine, she pushed on through the awkwardness on her tongue.

  "I mean, like... like stuff he was into. Like. He must have read things. Or watched
things. Or contacted people off the ship. Plus, you sort of have part of his house..."

  "There was no meaningful information stored on that craft. It was merely a shell, not an entity or even any data, Biann."

  Yeah, she'd worried about that. She also didn't want to get anyone's hopes up so soon, when she didn't even know what she was thinking of herself. Plus, she always thought better back here. Back here, away from everyone.

  "Okay. But, like... you must be able to pull together some kind of... profile? On him?"

  "I will try."

  "Thanks. I think... I sort of..."

  "You have an idea."

  "Yeah."

  "I can tell. Your speech alters subtly when you are on the verge of a breakthrough, Biann."

  "So you can tell when I'm inspired?"

  "Yes."

  "Cool!"

  "It will take me some time to go through all of my information. I will prioritise the more recent information, and then go over previous contact with him."

  "Alright. Let me know when you got something, right?"

  "Of course."

  ***

  "Captain, may I?"

  "Sure, Kre. Come in." He wasn't doing anything, really. Stirring a spoon through some drink or other that he'd made on auto-pilot. Just stirring round and round and round.

  He'd made two. Not even thinking, he'd made two. The second one sat there, mocking him. The bastard even had his own mug, now. Who the hell had their own mug on his ship without him being consulted? It was kind of the law. Just because you were fucking the Captain it didn't give you the right, suddenly, to have your own mug and—

  "Captain..."

  "Huh?"

  "You were speaking to yourself. Should I leave?"

  "No... sorry, Kre. I just..." he tossed his head into the communal dining area and followed her through. "I just..."

  "You miss him. We understand." A furry paw reached over to him, resting on his knee. "We all wish to save him. He has done as much for all of us."

  "Yeah, well. I got told off last time as I gave the 'You All Don't Need To' speech, so I've pretty much surrendered to the idea that this is half hippy commune as it is," he said, with a weak attempt at a smile. "I'm just... why don't it stop? We fix to save you and Loap, then the Ur breaks. Then we fix to sort your family out, then we break. And your family. And the whole universe, it feels like."

  "The universe is reasonably robust, but parts of it do need oil and tinkering with, I agree." The chaplain sat back, curling her tail around her knees. "I have an idea. You may not like it."

  "...considering how good my plans go, I'm open to suggestion, Fluffy."

  Ignoring the nickname, she licked at one paw-pad. "Whales."

  "Yes."

  "Baudeline appears to be abusing them in the same way the Bankers did."

  "Yes."

  "And now it is common knowledge. Or should become so. The first instances were likely hidden by the fake-Ur on Lineon. We also signed our contract with the Bankers. However... we did not choose to expose this new problem. When Baudeline used it in front of the Ardeshir, and whilst the Ur ship was recording data, the information could easily end up in... Tuadan Corp hands?"

  "You want to leak the Whale-murdering over-clocking to Nessin?"

  "They agreed not to do it again. So if they are involved in this situation, then they are in breach of contract," she pushed. "And if they are not involved in this situation, they might well find themselves somewhat... poorly represented in the media when the Ur investigation looks deeper into Baudeline's previous... interferences?"

  "You want to cut another deal with them?"

  "I believe it would benefit all parties, if we convince them. They would retain their face, and sever ties with such a problematic figure as Baudeline."

  "And what do we get out of this?"

  "If Baudeline did, indeed, pay them for the Ur-infiltration and develop this Whale... interference? Then they may well provide all the information required to indict them."

  "Kre... I could kiss you right now. If I wasn't already dating someone, and if I could even reach... do Sianar kiss?"

  "I – ah..."

  He'd gone from utterly despondent to knees and hands dancing nervously. "It's crazy, and it's perfect. And maybe they know where the bastard is. So we can go and rescue him, too."

  "That was my hope," she agreed. "And if the threat of bad press and charges of contract breach are not enough..." A flash of canines. "I know one influential woman who could call for a boycott."

  "Make that three," Vadim corrected. "Nessin and Toan would, too."

  "Even better."

  "Alright... come on. You're telling the crew your wonderful plan, and then... I guess we're going back into the black."

  ***

  [Sianor: Kip wants it on record that his ladies are all super smart and he adores them for keep fixing things for him.]

  [Ashroe: Because he is a smart and is not actually intimidated by other people having intelligent thoughts.]

  [Sianor: I'm amused by how often Biann is the one to just 'we're doing a thing'.]

  [Ashroe: She's secretly the star of the show.]

  [Sianor: Well, I'd vote her or Kre. But I am biased.]

  [Ashroe: I still love them all. I mean, they have their moments on the show... but for the most part? It still works. When they don't slaughter Saidhe's characterisation.]

  [Sianor: Or random abandon-babies for Loap.]

  [Ashroe: Sometimes I do kind of wish we could control the canon. Or... I dunno. Didn't one show do where you could pick your own adventure?]

  [Sianor: Yeah, but if you literally made it a democracy? There'd be too much anarchy.]

  [Ashroe: The ship wars alone would tear people apart. You'd end up with it flip-flopping back and forth between one group and the other until it just became a hate-filled monstrosity. So. Possibly not.]

  [Sianor: I can't believe we've spent five days... relaxing.]

  [Ashroe: Icecream sundaes, you mean.]

  [Sianor: Banana splits.]

  [Ashroe: You SHIT!]

  [Sianor: So is now a good time to try on the cosplay again? Just... to make sure it fits?]

  [Ashroe: Last time you lasted ten minutes.]

  [Sianor: It took you longer than that to remove it.]

  [Ashroe: I'm getting better.]

  ***

  "Sparkle, did you get a channel through to Nessin?"

  "I did. She's ready to talk, if you are?"

  "Patch her through."

  He sounded better, Saidhe thought. After he'd made Kre give her little plan to them all, he hadn't stopped smiling once. They had no guarantee that the Bankers would take the deal on offer, but it was a direction. It was a direction, and it gave them something to do other than sit and stare at the occasional twinkle of a distant star.

  "Captain Vadim. I'm beginning to wonder if I should have your crew on retainer."

  "I prefer to stay in the mutually beneficial favour side of trade if we can."

  "Very well. What do you have to tell me now? I'm assuming this is something to do with the reports I have of a massive internal investigation in the Ur, and something to do with a missing ship?"

  "Do you want me to ask you what's going on, instead of the other way around?"

  "Captain, I thought you had a boyfriend," she said, fluttering her lashes.

  Saidhe winced. Clearly she didn't know.

  "Yeah. Well." It was there in the sudden lack of emotion in his tone. Emotionless Vadim was more terrifying than emotional Vadim. No matter the emotion he was feeling.

  "The power behind the grab for the throne, then? You've found some more out about them?"

  "We do. And we're also pursuing some leads. We're hoping you'll hold off on breaking too much of the story until we've got some real substance?"

  "Captain... are you asking me to use my influence to selectively report on newsworthy material?"

  "I'm asking that if you get a name, you sit on it for
a day, tops. And we'll give you lots. Lots and lots. And you can break it."

  "Well, our last arrangement proved very profitable for me. Our margins are very much in the upward direction. I... accept. You have a day from now before any ex-Judge's name hits anything but the four walls of my office."

  "Much obliged. I'm also going to set up a dead drop if'n we don't return. It'll have all the information we can give you. Should be enough for at least a night of special reporting."