Inge fixed Mikkel with a glare and huffed. "I hate to say it, but you're as stupid as you are old," she said. "This is what we must do. Yes, the Boeki might have a similar plan, but do you really think they have the clout to do this? Aghoro might be thinking the same thing, but we could easily go into a mutually beneficial partnership with them. After all, the strings we pulled to get the weapons motion through couldn't have been done without them."
Mikkel rubbed his nose. "And what about Secretary Ozu? Do you really think--."
"Ha! Ozu? Ozu's a puppet. We can deal with Ozu - we always deal with Ozu. The fact is that we're in a position to mobilise now."
"And the Purdah?" he asked.
Eyes closed, Inge pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a long, loud sigh. "Have you been keeping up, old man? Ozu has declared war on the Purdah. We can use weapons against the Purdah. We can use weapons against anyone who gets in our way. The definitions of what constitutes 'security' can be very slippery - very open to interpretation, I think you'll agree."
"My concerns are for the instability in the short-term," said Renske. "We may be able to make long-term gains, but we are already starting to see citizens defaulting on credit."
"Then we stop credit," Inge said. "It's that simple. If Muedin users want treatment, then they'll have to pay before."
"I'm not sure if that will go down too well with the Affiliates," said Renske.
Inge shrugged. "They'll have to adjust."
"I have heard Aghoro are seeking legal moves to takeover Yao holdings," said Alarr Hilmarsohn. "This is not acceptable." Alarr had broad shoulders, with thick blond hair and a full ginger beard. He was Inge's legal and personal advisor.
"Perhaps, let them do the hard work and we'll cause such a fuss that they'll have no choice but to bring us in," said Renske.
Inge laughed. "You're missing the opportunity. Let Aghoro take the mining platforms - they are not of our concern."
"Of course they are," Alarr snapped, "look at what's happening right now. The group that controls the supply of fuel controls the economy."
"This is true," said Renske, nodding her agreement.
"For now." Inge said. "But it is also a distraction. Let Aghoro pump its resources in taking control of some mining platforms while we focus our attentions on the real prize - the Yao archives."
Alarr raised an eyebrow and smiled. "The Yao has been protecting technology and research for too long," he said. "I'm convinced we have only seen hints of what they are capable: cloning, longevity treatments, meme-splicing, memory and consciousness transfers. And these are just the things we know about."
Renske stroked her smooth chin as she pondered this. "If we can liberate such technology and use it as part of our treatment, who knows what we can achieve. The Yao have kept us all in the dark ages for far too long."
"Agreed," said Alarr. "This is a very exciting prospect, Madam Tomas. Our drug technologies combined with their knowledge - we could change the course of history."
"And that's what we shall do," said Inge. "But we must act now before any other Affiliate has the same idea."
Mikkel brushed back his thinning white hair. "Inge, this is all well and good, but we have no idea where the Yao base their operations."
Inge glared at Mikkel. "This is true to the extent that we've never needed to make a concerted effort before. I have thought about this, and though it's by no means certain, I've had a look at where the murdered Yaos were found. My assumption is that the largest concentration of Yaos is probably the closest to their headquarters.
"We know that the deaths were spread from the Hermes platforms around Mercury to the Kuiper platforms beyond Neptune. Their distribution is quite even, except for around Jupiter where we have four known deaths on Europa stations 3 and 5, Io 3 and Calisto 4.
"My best guess is that the Yao's archives are somewhere around Europa."
Alarr tapped his fingers on the table and shook his head.
"Is there a problem?" Inge snapped as she cast Alarr a savage glance.
"This all seems very--," he paused, "--tenuous."
"And you have a better idea?"
Mikkel coughed. "Inge, what I think Alarr is trying to say - and please do correct me if I am wrong - but the risk of diverting our resources to this without more information would be reckless. It is admirable that you have tried to find a way through this, but I can tell you the Yao archives are not--."
"If I may," Renske interrupted. "I'm not sure if Inge means to send our entire fleet on some expensive mission based on mere speculation, but that maybe it will be worth contacting local agents or sending out investigators as required."
Inge smiled. "Exactly. Thank you Renske. My apologies to some of the older members if I did not make that point abundantly clear."
Alarr leaned back on his chair and fixed Inge with a cold stare. "I'm sure that's exactly what you meant," he said.
"Alarr, please," Mikkel pleaded, shaking his head. "Madam Tomas, before we create hostility with the other Affiliates, is there not anything we can do through the Assembly? The move you made with the weapons was a stroke of genius - the increase in injuries from firearms can only lead to an increase in our profits."
Alarr pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm not sure if that move was quite the stroke of genius Inge would have us believe. The Secretary might yet work against the Affiliates - we need to tread incredibly carefully. One thing I will say is that we can't broach this with the Assembly. I can only imagine that Ozu will find some way to turn it to his favour. No, if we are to do this, we need to do this subtly - in isolation."
Inge nodded. "Then it is settled. That is what we shall do." She scowled as Mikkel shook his head. "What?" she snapped.
"The Yao archives are on the Titan Orbiter," Mikkel said flatly.
Inge smiled. "There's nothing linking the--."
"The Molotok had agents tracking a person working for the Purdah who had found the archives. The mission went quiet, but the last reports we received were from Titan."
"Molotok? But I thought--," Inge stammered.
"Of course you thought," Mikkel snapped. "But the Molotok does exist, and before your little takeover stunt, we had a very good working relationship with them."
"Why weren't the rest of us told about this?" asked Alarr.
Mikkel plucked at his shirt cuff then met Inge's gaze. "Because you didn't need to know."
Inge and Alarr bristled.
"Okay," Inge said. "Prepare a small fleet for Titan."
# # #
Tshilidzi: Secretarial Palace, Insularum 1, Lunar
22/06/6,544, 11:12 (IST)
Tshilidzi looked at the clock again as he paced another lap of the waiting area. An uncanny sensation washed over him as the four portraits of Lunar Secretary Takeshi Ozu hung on each wall seemed to follow him with their dark eyes.
He walked over to a reception desk, leaning over a woman who ignored him. Tshilidzi cleared his throat. "Any word yet?"
"Not yet," the woman sighed. "As I've already explained Sir, the Secretary is a very busy man. We can have a message sent to the Judiciary if and when the Secretary can make himself available."
Tshilidzi turned, making as if to walk away, then turned back. "Let me ask you something," he said.
The woman looked up. She had a high ponytail and wore thick glasses. "About?"
"Is this resistance to cooperating with a Judiciary investigation into multiple murders coming from you or from the Secretary?" Tshilidzi asked in a low whisper.
The woman raised a drawn-on eyebrow. "I have already explained, the Secretary is a very busy man. As soon as we can arrange a meeting, we'll send a message to the Judiciary." The woman pursed her lips. "I'm being as helpful as I can, Sir."
With narrowing eyes, Tshilidzi regarded the woman. "So this is coming from the Secretary," he said.
"I didn't say that Sir. The Secretary is in a meeting right now."
"So he is here, in this building?" Tshilidzi gest
ured around him.
The woman looked down.
"I can wait," Tshilidzi said, tapping his hands on the reception desk.
The woman looked up with a scowl. "I've been perfectly reasonable Sir. I'm going to ask you to leave now, or I will have no choice but to call security."
"You make sure Ozu gets the message that he can't duck me forever. No one is above the Judiciary - isn't that what he always says?"
# # #
Natsuki: Kurosawa household, Insularum 3, Lunar
01/07/6,544, 14:02 (IST)
Natsuki gave a languid smile as she opened her door to Akira. Although she had read Akira's articles for several years, her appearance surprised Natsuki. She imagined someone younger, slimmer and more confident. Looking down, she noticed Akira's stubby hands peeking out from her ill-fitting grey shirt.
"Madam Kurosawa," said Akira. "I'm so sorry for your loss. I cannot imagine--."
"Natsuki, please. Come in." Natsuki led Akira to her reception room. "Take a seat. Can I offer you anything?"
"No thank you," said Akira.
"Something to eat, perhaps? Tea?"
"A tea would be lovely, actually."
Stepping into her kitchen, Natsuki prepared the tea. "You'll have to excuse the mess," she said.
Natsuki heard Akira rise and walk over to Hayao's shrine.
"He was a handsome man," Akira called into the kitchen.
"Yes," Natsuki sighed, bringing through a tray with a teapot and pair of antique cups. She placed them down on the floor. The pair kneeled.
"People tell me what a good man he was, what a handsome man he was, what a good father he was," she sighed. "Was."
"I'm sorry," said Akira. "I didn't mean--."
"It is I who should apologise. I'm just so--," Natsuki paused and glanced over to Hayao's shrine, "--exhausted."
Closing her eyes for a moment, Natsuki took a sharp breath through her nose. Nobody told her how tiring it was to bring up a child while grieving; how basic things like washing and feeding herself properly went by the wayside. Riko was happy enough, but the neglect of herself was beginning to show.
Akira reached for Natsuki's hand. "We really don't have to do this today--."
"We must. If we don't do it now, I never will," she said, snapping her hand away. "Do you know what the worst part about it all is? It's the fact that my husband's reputation has been destroyed. How dare Takeshi accuse Hayao of being a part of the Purdah? Do you know how completely absurd that is?"
"I know," said Akira. "I've followed Kurosaw-- Hayao's career since he stood to be a local Representative. I'm quite sure Ozu made those accusations to create a distraction."
Natsuki nodded. "When would he have even had the time to do anything with the Purdah? He dedicated his waking hours to his work and his family."
"Nobody takes Ozu's accusations seriously." Akira reached over to the teapot and poured the teas.
"But the seeds have been sown. Even if he later retracts what he said, the damage is done. I've cried myself to sleep every single night since Hayao was arrested - not for him, not for me, but for Riko."
"Riko?" asked Akira.
"Our daughter." She gestured to an image of Riko next to Hayao's shrine. "She's just turned three. She's with my father today. Can you imagine what her life is going to be like? She's going to grow up as the daughter of a disgraced Vice Secretary - the daughter of a traitor. This shame will weigh on her."
Akira sipped her tea. "These are lovely cups."
"They were Hayao's grandmother's. They were a wedding gift." The pair sat in silence for several moments. "Do you like the blend?"
"Yes, it's very subtle."
"It's Martian. Hayao always insisted on good tea. I'm not sure I'll bother. Importing tea always seemed extravagant to me."
Akira shuffled uncomfortably. "It must have been difficult for you not to have performed the funeral rituals," she ventured.
"That was probably the hardest thing," Natsuki sighed. "Finding out that Takeshi had taken that from me was--." She shook her head. "The idea of him washing him in those final hours makes me feel sick."
Akira scowled. "The fact Ozu had guards hold him down while he did it must have been hard for you to take."
Natsuki blinked. "I'm sorry? He did what?"
Akira froze. "I--." Scratching her nose, she frowned. "--I thought you would have known."
"He had guards hold Hayao down?" Natsuki's jaw tightened. "Are you sure? How can you know this?" Natsuki snapped her hand away as Akira reached over to comfort her. "Tell me."
Akira lowered her gaze. "I'm sorry."
"Tell me," Natsuki said, her tone insistent.
"One of the guards talks to me. He was supportive of Kurosa-- Hayao, I mean. He came to me after Ozu had performed the cleansing ritual. He said it disturbed him. He told me that Ozu had three guards strip Hayao naked and hold him down. He said Hayao struggled against it throughout."
Natsuki sipped her tea and breathed through her nose, trembling as she blinked away a tear. "You know Takeshi came here after Hayao's memorial?"
"I did not know that," Akira said, her mouth hidden behind the teacup.
"He came here and told me that there were no hard feelings. Can you believe that? The audacity." Natsuki dabbed her eyes with a muslin. "He brought his own image for Hayao's shrine. One of him and Hayao grinning like--," her voice trailed off.
Natsuki nodded as Akira gestured for more tea. "I could have killed him," Natsuki said. "I could have strangled him in my own home. Imagine what would happen to Riko if both of her parents had been--," she sighed. "I didn't do anything, but it was only because I had friends and family around me to hold me back. If I'd known about the cleansing - that he held Hayao down - I would have reached for a knife. I swear it, I would have killed him and no one could have stopped me."
"Do you think Ozu was working something else? Do you think Hayao's death was, I don't know, convenient for him in some way?"
"I don't know. I went to see Hayao after he was arrested. He mentioned that Takeshi had come to see him as an obstacle. I can't remember his exact wording, but there was definitely something. Looking back, it seems like Hayao suspected as much."
"Take your time."
Natsuki frowned and took a long sip of tea. "I've already spent enough time thinking this over and over," she snapped. "Do you not think I've been trying to relive our conversations over and over in my head? Do you not think I've been trying to piece together some meaning out of all of this?" Natsuki slammed her cup to the floor, ignoring it as it shattered, its handle still gripped by her shaking fingers. "Look, I appreciate what you're trying to do, I really do. Hayao had a lot of time for you, and that's the only reason I'm even speaking with you today. But you're a reporter, you're looking for the political angle, the conspiracy, the deeper story." Natsuki gasped for breath. "The real story is very simple," she whispered. "Our Secretary is unhinged - the most powerful man in the Union is a murderer."
# # #
Garrett: Shopping District, V5 Orbiter, Venus
19/06/6,544, 15:07 (IST)
Garrett strode with Ifan on his right along an avenue of carefully curated oaks and poplars, turning right onto the market square.
"It's so quiet," said Garrett as they passed by the row of locked-up food stalls. Only a few weeks prior, the square's atmosphere would have been heavy with the drifting smells of chicken, pork and spices; the sounds of idle chatter and laughter; the swirls of colourful dresses and shimmering hair ornaments. But now, he could smell nothing.
"When you've got no ships coming in, there's nothing new to trade," said Ifan.
"Have you heard anything from the guild yet?" Garrett asked as the pair turned a corner, passing closed cafes and empty shops.
"I've sent a few urgent messages to Lunar. Wynn says United Solar is working on something for V5, so there's nothing we can do yet."
"So, we're going to be stuck here, doing nothing?"
"It certainly looks
that way. We're got enough stores on the ship to last us, but I'm more worried about how quickly things have deteriorated here. V5's basically a pleasure station. They are consumers, not producers.
"Think about how precarious their position is. If trade is completely cut-off, there's nothing on here to sustain its residents - no farms, no industry. They'll have water and power for as long as the orbiters in operation, but food, medicines?"
Garrett signed. "At least most of them saw sense and left as soon as things started looking shaky--."
"Hold it right there you two."
Garrett looked down as a teenage boy appeared from an alleyway brandishing a knife. "Hand over everything - food, money - now!" The boy was short and gangly, wearing expensive clothes, stained and grubby.
Ifan pointed to the blade and laughed. "What are you going to with that little thing? Give me a boo boo?"
Garrett laughed as the boy jumped forward, driving the blade into Ifan's groin. Ifan sagged to the ground screaming in pain.
"You little fucker," called Garrett as he struck the boy hard with a fist. The boy scrambled to his feet and ran back into the alleyway.
"Shit. How bad is it?" Garrett asked as he crouched down to examine the wound.
"I'm okay," Ifan croaked, blood seeping from the wound at the top of his thigh.
"We're not too far from a Muedin centre." Garrett strained as he lifted Ifan to his feet. "We can do this," he said, struggling under the old man's weight. "Please, try to push down on where he stabbed you."
Garrett shuffled to the end of the street, making a left turn along another row of closed shops as a trail of blood marked the path behind them. He looked behind him, but saw no sign of the boy.
"Nearly there, Ifan," Garrett said as he gestured to the Muedin centre less than a hundred metres ahead of them.
Step by step, Garrett carried Ifan to the centre. He felt the old man weaken in his arms.
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