by M. R. Forbes
“There’s almost always a Hauler vessel within a light-year, so long as you stick to the beaten path,” Pallimo said. “It isn’t as reliable as the Galnet or Milnet for this specific application, but it's an encrypted channel General Thraven doesn’t have access to.”
“That’s Gloritant,” Olus said. “It means almost the same thing, but not quite.”
“Yeah, he’s more of an asshole than a General,” Quark said.
“Can we reach back to Earth?” Olus asked.
“Not currently,” Pallimo said. “The fighting forced us to abandon the area, at least temporarily. I lost four good ships and a few launch ports, and I’m going to guess my insurer will refuse to cover damage due to unexpected acts of war.”
Quark laughed at that. “I think you can afford it.”
“In any case, my root systems are reorganizing the fleet, but it will take a few hours to get the mesh linked back to the inner system.”
Nibia entered the commons. Her skin was glistening with sweat, her eyes tired.
“How’s Capper?” Quark asked.
“He’ll live,” she replied. “But I don’t think he’s going to be doing any more soldiering. He’s got some shrapnel in his heart I can’t repair.”
“Maybe I can help?” Olus said.
“If it moves, he dies. If it vanishes, he dies. The Meijo can’t solve everything, Captain. In this case, only a more relaxing lifestyle will keep him breathing.”
“He was born at the wrong damn time for that,” Quark said.
“I can find a suitable position for him,” Pallimo said. “It’s the least I can do, considering you saved my life.”
“As it were,” Quark said. “You’re a machine.”
“I’m aware,” Pallimo said. “And my protocols demand self-preservation.”
“Roger that.”
Olus felt the change in the ship as it came out of FTL.
“Next stop, planet Apollo,” Quark said. “Home world of Governess Sandine Ott, the biggest bitch in the Outworlds.”
“Quark,” Nibia said in admonishment.
“What? She is.”
“Just because a woman turns down your oh-so macho advances, that doesn’t make them a bitch.”
“No, that just means they’re crazy.” He laughed. “Sandine and me have a history that predates her political career. Did you know she used to be in the CM?”
“The militia? No.”
“She did. That’s where she gets her street cred. That’s how she got elected Governess. We had a run in of a non-sexual nature way back when.”
“Are you suggesting I should leave you behind?” Olus asked, interrupting. “I need a chance to prove my case with her, not have her send me away because of the company I keep.”
“That was twenty years plus ago,” Quark said. “I can’t imagine she’s still holding a grudge today.”
“You are,” Nibia said.
“Yeah, but that’s because I’m me. Sandine’s a bitch, but she’s not a vengeful bitch. I don’t think.” He turned to Olus. “In any case, we’re good. I don’t want to miss watching you try to convince the Outworld Governance they’re betting on the wrong star racer. They’re not going to give up on cutting the Republic down to size that easily.”
“Not if I was going in there alone,” Olus said. “Especially not considering my former employer. But I’ve got a secret weapon.” He pointed to Pallimo. “Nobody else but you, me, and Thraven know he’s not the real thing, and for Thraven to tell the Governance would essentially prove everything I’m going to put forward.”
“Blah, blah, blah. Too many words, Captain. Like I said, this is going to be entertainment at its finest. Let’s just make sure we stop off at the armory before we head out. I know you’re a wizard and all that shit, but I’ve got a few toys the local enforcement’s sensors won’t detect.”
“Colonel, we have clearance to land,” Gibli said through the ship’s comm. “We’ll be skids down in fifteen minutes.”
“Roger,” Quark replied. “Don’t frag up the landing.”
“I saved our asses on Oberon, didn’t I, sir?” Gibli asked.
“That you did. You and Sykes both. I owe her for that, and for her quick work on the comm. What do you say, Nibs? You think Sykes likes perfume?”
“Only if it has lubricating grease in it.”
Quark smiled. “Now you’re getting randy. What about a nice coat? I noticed she tore the sleeve on the last one I bought her.”
“Possibly.”
“Do you mind if we focus on the task at hand?” Olus asked. He was amused by the banter, but they had a lot bigger things to worry about.
“Word of advice, Captain,” Quark said. “Always take good care of the women in your life, and they’ll take good care of you. Always.”
“I wouldn’t classify losing the Demon Queen’s daughter as taking good care of her,” Olus replied.
“Roger that.” Quark put his hand on Olus’ shoulder, looking him in the eye. “It wasn’t your fault, Captain. Hell, I’m more to blame on that count than you are. This is our chance to do something about it.”
Olus nodded. “Too many words, Colonel. I’m ready.”
31
As a Capital planet, Apollo was one of the most populated and modern in the First Sector, the area of space that Governess Ott was in charge of speaking for. The Sector was made up nearly two dozen planets including Oberon, and while Governess Ott didn’t know that Don Pallimo existed there as a computer system doing its best to act like the dead magnate, she did know that he was an important figure to her Sector’s overall economy.
As a result, when the Don came in with a request to chat, it was in her best interests to comply with that request.
It meant that for once, reaching the target was a straightforward affair, something Olus had become unaccustomed to over the last few months. The Don Pallimo synth put in a call to the Governess on the way to the surface, and an official transport was waiting at the spaceport to greet them when they arrived.
It took them on a short hop through the city that bore the same name as the planet, an urban landscape that could have just as easily been San Francisco, London, or Hong Kong as it was an Outworld center. The only reason Olus could be certain he was in the Outworlds was because the marketing projections were all for products from a single company, Applied Sciences Corporation, and their related brands. Of course, Applied Sciences also happened to own Apollo and most of the majority of the worlds in First Sector.
Olus felt only the slightest of nerves as the transport set down on the lawn of the Governor’s Mansion. The large estate created an almost surreal break in the middle of the city, substituting skyscrapers and multi-leveled traffic for fields of grass surrounded by clumps of trees, a nearly ten square-kilometer parkland in the midst of the densely active surroundings. It wasn’t the idea of meeting with the Governess that made him nervous. Rather, it was the peace and calm of the area. It felt wrong to be here when there was so much chaos taking place out there.
“She’s definitely moved up in the universe since I saw her last,” Quark said, the hatch on the transport sliding open.
“What was she doing when you saw her last?” Nibia asked.
“It wouldn’t be gentlemanly of me to say,” Quark replied. “Let’s just say she’s reinvented herself since then.”
Olus raised an eyebrow at that. Quark shrugged and smiled. Olus stood and straightened his suit. He would have preferred a uniform, but there weren’t any available. Instead, he had inherited one of Quark’s formal outfits - a white shirt, dark pants, and a long, bullet-resistant coat with a low collar that had a number of extra pockets stitched inside. Pockets that were holding all sorts of undetectable means to violence, including throwing knives and a blowgun with a handful of small, poison-tipped darts that the mercenary said was a Koosian hunting device.
The good news was that it all fit cleanly over his seraphsuit, keeping the enhanced protection hidden while it kept
the Gift from tickling at his skin.
“Don Pallimo,” the woman who greeted them outside the transport said. “My name is Ms. Yao. I’m the Governess’ assistant. I’ll be escorting you to meet with her.”
“Yao, wow,” Quark said under his breath, barely loud enough for Quark to hear.
Olus couldn’t argue that the assistant did have a look to her, and he wasn’t surprised the mercenary was drawn to it. Then again, he got the impression Quark was drawn to nearly any member of the opposite sex, and not necessarily always a human.
“Ms. Yao,” the Pallimo synth said, putting out its hand. “A pleasure.”
Yao took it, shaking lightly.
“Allow me to introduce my companions,” Pallimo said. “My bodyguards, Colonel Quark and Lieutenant Nibia.”
Quark stuck out his hand. “The pleasure is mine, Ms. Yao,” he said smoothly, casting her a cock-eyed grin that made her face turn red.
Olus shook his head while the assistant greeted Nibia. How the hell did he do that?
“And Governess Ott is probably familiar with Captain Olus Mann of the Republic OSI, though I doubt she’s ever met him in person.”
Yao turned to Olus, her warm expression vanishing almost instantly. There was no love lost between the Republic and Outworlds.
“Ms. Yao,” Olus said.
“Captain. I’ve heard rumors that you’re a pariah amongst your circles?”
Olus didn’t let her barb trip him up. “I’m looking out for the best interests of both our places in the galaxy, Ms. Yao. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“He’s here to parlay,” Pallimo said. “Don’t make me speak to the Governess about your lack of decorum.”
Yao’s face flushed for a different reason, and she turned away from them. “Follow me. The Governess is out, but you can wait for her in the atrium.”
“I haven’t had much luck with atriums,” Quark said, calling out the events on Gamlin.
Ms. Yao ignored him, leading them across the lawn to the house. There were guards stationed outside in lightsuits, and they remained stiff and straight as they passed.
They entered the mansion. It immediately reminded Olus of Mars Eagan’s estate, with plenty of opulence spread across the walls and floors, and a feeling of classical refinement that was relatively uncommon these days.
That visit felt like it had taken place a lifetime ago.
He could only hope this one wouldn’t end similarly.
“The atrium is through here,” Ms. Yao said, guiding them down a long corridor toward a large pair of high doors. “There are refreshments waiting for you inside, and a service synth if you need anything else.”
“Thank you, Ms. Yao,” Don Pallimo said. “Do you have an estimate on how long we might be waiting? As you can imagine, I’m a busy man.”
“Of course, Don. I expect that -”
“Q, is that you?”
Olus turned at the voice. A woman in an ankle-length skirt was approaching them. She had short brown hair and was slightly overweight, her features more in line to what he found appealing.
“Sandy?” Quark said, putting his mechanical optics on her. “It’s been a long time.”
She stopped in front of him, leaving Olus to wonder if she was going to slug him or kiss him. She did neither, turning to Pallimo instead.
“Don Pallimo. I heard rumors you had employed this wolverine. It left me to question your sanity.”
“Are you sweet talking me again already, Sandy?” Quark asked.
“Nonsense, Governess,” Pallimo said. “With days like these, a wolverine is the best thing to have protecting you.”
“Days like these? Do you mean the fall of the Republic? These are golden days, Don.”
“So you’ve been led to believe. Even putting the damage to my own interests aside, I’m afraid the current situation with the Republic is ultimately going to benefit no one except the individual who brought you down this path.”
“Are you referring to General Thraven?” she asked. “I admit, his tactics have been a little questionable, but you can’t argue with his results.”
“I can, and will,” Olus said, finally speaking up.
Governess Ott looked at him, trying to place him. She smiled once she had. It was a gloating smile, a proud smile. Maybe Quark was right about her? Not that it mattered.
“Captain Olus Mann,” she said. “You’re a long way from the Republic.”
“I’ve come where the truth has led me, Governess,” Olus said. “I’ve come where I can do the most good for our galaxy. Not only the Republic but the Outworlds as well.”
“I have to admit; I’m curious what you mean by that.”
“Good. Is there somewhere we can go so that I can explain it to you?”
“I believe in transparent governing, Captain. Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of my staff. Though I agree, a hallway isn’t the best place to talk about war.” She motioned to the doors of the atrium. “Shall we?” She glanced back at Quark, and then at Nibia. Her eyes smoldered when she looked at the witch doctor. Was that jealousy? “You’re both welcome to wait outside.” She paused. “Or return to your ship.”
“And miss this?” Quark said. “Not a chance. Transparency works both ways.”
The Governess didn’t look happy, but she turned and entered the atrium. Olus followed her, his confidence dropping. Could he convince this woman that Thraven’s actions were bad for the Outworlds?
He was vaguely aware of the tools sitting in the pockets of his coat.
He wasn’t enthusiastic about the alternative, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t done before.
32
Olus took stock of the atrium as they entered. Governess Ott’s initial reaction to his words had left him feeling less than confident about his ability to talk her out of her present course, and he needed to be as aware as possible of his surroundings should the worst case come to pass.
He was expecting a room of greenery but instead was met by what would have been more appropriately described as a ballroom, at least to someone his age. It was a large, open space, with tables scattered around the fringe and a stage up front, suitable for live music or any other entertainment the mansion was hosting. Three levels of balconies ran around the edge of the room, while a spread of food and drink had been positioned at the center.
A service synth was waiting there with it, a handsome male version in a crisp tuxedo. It smiled as they entered, rounding the table to approach and offer a drink.
“No thank you,” Olus said before it could speak. It took the hint, bowing silently and returning to its position.
The Governess ignored his curtness, meandering to the table and picking out a small sandwich and pointing to a bottle of wine, which the synth promptly poured.
“Individuals are dying out there, Governess,” Olus said.
The words didn’t entice her to change her cadence. She took a sip of the wine and ate the sandwich before she turned back to him.
“Your individuals are dying,” she said. “Outworld casualties are surprisingly low.”
“Because Thraven sabotaged half the ships in the Republic,” Olus said.
She laughed. “What you call sabotage, I call genius.”
Olus took a second. He had to change his tactics.
“I understand you have no interest in the well-being of the Republic,” he said. “I can accept that you’re willing to see innocent Republic citizens die on the path to victory. That is war, after all. But I hope that for a moment you can put aside the fact that I am from the Republic. As you surely know, I’ve been removed from my position and am wanted for treason.”
“I heard.”
“Gloritant Thraven isn’t only a threat to the Republic. It may seem that way, but only because you don’t know what he wants, and what he’s been willing to do to get it.”
“And you know what he wants, Captain?”
“I do.”
Olus paused, noticing soldiers gathe
ring on the platforms around them. This was her idea of transparency?
“I’d love to hear your theory,” she said.
“It’s not a theory; it's a fact. Gloritant Thraven wants no less than to seize control of this galaxy and use its inhabitants to fuel a war.”
“Didn’t you just say that’s what he’s already doing?”
“This isn’t war to him, Governess. This is the warmup. The practice. Thraven comes from a place called the Extant. It’s a place in the universe beyond our current FTL technology. He’s a member of a race called the Nephilim. A race that is nearly identical to humankind, but predates us by many years.”
“I thought your intent was to convince me you'r telling me the truth?” the Governess said. “Between you and me, Captain, you’re doing a lousy job.”
“Captain, maybe you should let me take over,” Quark said.
“I don’t think that’s a good-”
Olus didn’t get to finish. Quark cut in front of him. “Don’t worry, Captain. I know how to talk to Sandy.” He moved closer to the Governess. “Look, I know we haven’t spoken in a while.”
“Twenty-two years,” the Governess said. “What the hell, Q? You promised me you would get me out of that hellhole, and then you disappeared and left me with that piece of shit. You went off to who knows where and became this bigshot mercenary while I spent the next two years earning out my fragging freedom. You know what things were like there. You know where you left me.”
Olus’ eyes flicked between Quark and the Governess. He hadn’t been expecting this. How exactly was it supposed to help?
“I know,” Quark said. “I know I did. I’m sorry. I got sidetracked.”
“Sidetracked? I’ll show you sidetracked.” She lifted her skirt up to her thighs. One of her legs was a mechanical replacement. The other had dozens of scars lining it. “Frag you and your sidetracked. I would arrest you right now if you weren’t with the Don.”