Pawqlan was waiting for her when she entered the five-by-three-meter room. Dressed in a nice looking, but still utilitarian yellow wrap-around, she stood beside the chamber’s floor to ceiling poly-glass window. The dress made Pawqlan’s skin turn a mottled yellow-gray, the dullness of the colors indicating she was highly agitated.
“Finally,” she muttered.
“I got here as fast as I could. What’s up your cloaca?” Cygni moved around the black, oval conference table to stand an arm’s length away from Pawqlan. She turned her head to watch the stars scroll by through the room’s three-meter wide window as the habitat ring rotated.
“My what? That’s vile.”
“Sorry, am I wrong about Galaenean anatomy?”
Pawqlan shot her a vicious look. “No, you are not.”
Much to her own surprise, Cygni didn’t return the Galaenean’s acidity. She was just too tired, too worn from this cruise to rise to the occasion. For once, she decided, she’d try and call a truce between them for the time being.
“Sorry, really. I don’t mean to be sniping at you. I guess this whole trip has just gotten under my skin in the worst way. I gather your reporting is going well?”
Pawqlan looked Cygni over for a moment before responding. “Yes, mostly, but not other things. The air filtration system on this ship is too good. My body can’t detect enough pheromones to decide if it should be male or female. I keep starting the change and then shifting back. I can’t tell you how annoying and uncomfortable it is.”
Cygni turned towards her colleague. Galaeneans, she knew, shifted gender depending on the pheromones of those around her. It was an adaptation from her species’ ancient past when they were prey to a number of Galaenean predators. It ensured there was always a viable breeding population around no matter the gender of those who got eaten. Thanks to the Qua’s genetic experiments over a thousand years ago, the Galaeneans reacted to the pheromones of all of the species the Qua tampered with—including humans. Cygni couldn’t imagine what it felt like in actuality, but she guessed the constant shifting Pawqlan was undergoing must be like a hormone ride from hell.
“How long has this been going on?”
“Since about twenty days into this voyage. I don’t need your sympathy, but—”
“Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s not the same, but I haven’t been able to get a single thing done since coming on board.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out one of the furry spy grains. “I planted a bunch of these in Altair’s quarters, but the stupid things aren’t transmitting. I don’t even know if they’re recording. If I can’t figure out a way into that room to retrieve them—never mind. It’s pointless.” She shook her head.
“The mighty Cygni Lau-Aragón defeated?” Pawqlan’s silver eyes widened.
“Enjoy it while you can.”
They both turned to the window. The dusky river of the Milky Way band panned by, followed by the arc of something large and metallic.
“What the hell is that?” Cygni took a step forward, her toe jamming against the poly-glass.
Pawqlan put the fleshy bulbs at the tips of her six-digit hands against the window. “The edges—there’s something wrong.”
Cygni looked closer. Pawqlan was right. The edges of the metallic arc were fuzzy, jumping in her vision as though she were staring at a huge, rapidly vibrating ball.
“What the fuck is that?” She pressed her palms against the glass, leaning in as if it would help her to see the object better.
“It is affecting the starlight around it; look.”
She saw that it was true. The stars near the edge of the object were wavering, like she was looking at them through a shaking glass of water.
“What are we looking at?” She activated the record function in her cybernetic implants.
“I don’t know,” Pawqlan whispered.
They stood in silence, watching as more of the object rotated into view. It soon became apparent they were looking at a sphere that emitted its own dull-gray light, and had a very strange effect on the space around it—though as to its size or nature it was impossible to determine without a frame of reference.
“Is this the big thing Baron Revenant wanted us to see?” Cygni asked.
“He didn’t say, but if I had to guess—” Pawqlan trailed off.
“Point taken.” She shook her head. “So what do you think it doe—”
She was cut off by a wrenching sensation, like something had grabbed hold of her entire body both inside and out, and twisted it in opposite directions. For a moment it was like the air around her was frozen stiff, and then there was a flash of bright-green light and the pressure let go. The release was so sudden that she had to grab the back of the chair behind her to steady herself.
“What the he—” The words froze in her throat when her eyes fell on what lie on the other side of the poly-glass.
The gentle, bright blue arc of Kosfanter had somehow replaced the shifting metallic sphere that was there a moment before. Cygni knew what it meant on an intellectual level, but she didn’t want to accept the truth that her eyes were telling her.
“Sixty-AU,” she shook her head.
“This isn’t possible,” Pawqlan whispered.
She noted that a little red light was on in the corner of her field of view. Whatever had just happened, she had it recorded reflexively. Perhaps she could figure something out when she played it back.
Shaking, she pulled out a chair and sat down. Pawqlan did likewise beside her.
“It could be some kind of new technology, yes? Something Baron Revenant has been working on?”
“It must be.” Cygni nodded.
They sat for nearly twenty minutes in silence, watching the aerospace shuttle traffic buzz about the planetary moon below them. The rotation of the habitat ring eventually brought Kosfanter’s parent planet, the brown-and-red-gas giant, Matre, into view before turning them towards the darkness of space. By the time the conference room door slid open, Kosfanter was just coming back around through the window.
Baron Revenant walked in wearing a single-breasted black suit with a silver trim on the hem of his jacket. His hair was slicked back behind his ears, just like it was in the Cosmos Corporation vacation ads that played nightly on the Cyberweb. His blue eyes were alight with intelligence, and Cygni felt herself tense when they settled on her.
“Magnificent, isn’t it?” His voice was like honey over hotcakes.
Cygni glanced at Pawqlan and started to rise to her feet.
“Don’t bother with that. Please, stay seated. You’re here as my guests.” A smile appeared on the baron’s face.
Cygni found herself half-smiling back at him. She had the sense that she would’ve been more charmed had she not been insulated by the shock of what she just experienced.
“We’re honored, Baron.” The usual edge in Pawqlan’s voice was absent, and her skin was two shades grayer than it had been when Cygni arrived.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Baron Revenant sat down at the table across from them.
Cygni shook her head.
“I take it you’re still in a state of amazement?”
“What was that thing? The—the—” she stammered.
“Cephalon Gate Sphere,” Revenant said. “It’s an ancient transport technology that my barony has only recently learned to control. I’m going to revolutionize galactic transportation with it.”
She shared a look with Pawqlan.
“Imagine a galaxy where distance is no longer a barrier to communication. Imagine a galaxy where help is only moments away instead of days or weeks. Imagine—well, I suppose I can spare you the glory speech.” Baron Revenant folded his hands on the table.
“This is what you wanted us to see?” Cygni asked. Her mind felt like soup, it was reeling from the double shocks of seeing the strange, new technology in action and being in the presence of the most powerful man in the Confederation.
“Yes, but I also have a proposition for
you, Miss Aragón.”
“For her?” Pawqlan’s voice had recovered some of its edge.
Baron Revenant met her silver gaze with absolute calm. “It is a matter of specialties. Yours is gossip, but the project I have in mind for Miss Aragón falls into a more technical category. I need someone whose expertise lies in analytical thinking, who is used to dissecting complex matters into terms the common sentient can understand. I need someone with guts, who won’t be afraid to flinch away from tough questions.”
Pawqlan’s beak-like mouth opened, but she failed to speak before the baron asked his question.
“Miss Aragón, do you think you would be up to being a liaison between Cosmos Corporation and the public?”
“What?” Her mind went blank with shock. Of all the things she thought he would summon her to a meeting for, this was the furthest from her mind. She couldn’t believe he was offering her a job.
“What? She’s not even supposed to be on this ship!” Pawqlan began to lunge to her feet, but stopped at a glance from the baron.
“You are only in this room as a courtesy to your publication. I have been aware of Miss Aragón’s addition to the ship’s manifest since before we left port, and in this particular case, it is you who does not belong here.” Baron Revenant shifted his gaze back to Cygni. “You will be well compensated for your time.”
Her mouth worked without sound. She closed it, swallowed hard, and forced her brain to work again. “I’m attached to the Spur Herald.”
“Perhaps I can obtain a leave of absence for you—or better yet, if my representative contacts your publication and informs them they will have exclusive rights to the story of how Cosmos Corporation is changing the Orion Spur, perhaps they will be persuaded to allow you the operational freedom you will need.”
She felt her heart hammer at the back of her ribs. “I think that would do it.” She felt breathless. Through the brain-fog the thought of the original reason she wanted a place on the Queen Gaia arose. “Wait, I’m in the middle of a case. I—how much freedom will I have to pursue it.”
Baron Revenant’s brow furled. “I thought that might be why you were here.” He turned to Pawqlan. “Leave.”
The tone of his voice made her jump, but after a moment she nodded and left the room.
Once the door was shut Baron Revenant turned his gaze back to Cygni. “I assume your case has to do with Baron Keltan? His engagement, perhaps? Or is that just a front?”
Her mouth went dry.
“You were at Intel-Sys tower when Baron Mitsugawa threw himself to his death.” It was not a question.
She wondered how Baron Revenant knew—and then realized he probably had access to her official civil records, including her arrest.
“If you accept my offer that story must be put on hold, however, you will have periodic access to Baron Keltan. I wouldn’t necessarily mind if you asked him a question or two about that incident. I doubt you’ll get very far. He can be a bit of a—well, you will see.”
“Do you think it was a suicide?”
“I do, but I am aware that there are doubts among certain groups in the Confederation. Perhaps you will help silence them in time. Meanwhile, I would expect my needs to come first.”
“Of course.” This was the chance of a lifetime, and despite the shock, she knew it.
“You will also need to sign a non-disclosure agreement, which will be quite strict. Only that which I personally authorize may be publicized in any media. Is that clear?” Baron Revenant leaned back in his chair.
“Crystal, Baron.” She felt her flesh tremble.
“I can give you a few day—”
“Yes.”
“You don’t want to think about it?” Baron Revenant did not look surprised.
“No need. I agree. Yes, I’ll take the job. Where do I sign?”
Her implant received a file a moment later. She opened it, scanned down to the bottom, and signed it with her biometrics before sending it back down the electric path from which it had come.
“Congratulations, Cygni. You are now my official head of public relations for project Fast Mercury and its official historian. If you do a good job, there will be more work down the line and, perhaps, a permanent position waiting for you with Cosmos Corporation.”
“Thank you, Baron Revenant.” Her voice trembled and she blushed.
“We’re going to be working together quite closely in the coming year. I look forward to it.” He extended his hand across the table. She took it. His firm grip raised goose bumps on her skin.
His smile could sell water to a fish.
“So?” Pawqlan said. She trailed Cygni, barely keeping up with the fast pace down the corridor.
“So, I took the job. I assume you called Ax’xoa already?” She took a turn into a lift. Pawqlan followed her in.
“Mister Iai, yes. He said he’s happy with the exclusive interview we’ll get out of this, but he’s going to have to reassign your cases to someone now.”
“That’s to be expected. I wonder who he’ll choose, as long as it’s not Brett it’ll be all right—Oh, wait, there is one exception. I’m keeping the Mitsugawa murder.”
“Suicide—everyone says it was suicide. It tastes awful in these corridors, have you noticed?” Pawqlan waved a hand in front of her beak.
“Was it suicide?” She did notice the smell, again, but didn’t want to let Pawqlan distract from the discussion.
The lift doors slid open. She rushed through them, taking broad strides down the curving hallway floor.
“It wasn’t?” Pawqlan was panting. Briefly, Cygni felt bad about pressing the Galaenean like this, but it passed. She didn’t ask for Pawqlan’s company.
“Pawqlan, no offense, but stick to what you know.”
“Why are you going this way? Everyone is disembarking now. We’re late. I don’t want to get stuck on this ship if the last shuttle leaves.”
“Then go. I don’t need your company.”
They arrived at her destination; the double-doors displaying the multi-colored sphere of AgroWorlds Corp.
“Why are we—the grains?” Pawqlan said between hard breaths.
“I have to know if they malfunctioned. They might have something truly important on them. It’s even possible we could both use it.” She approached the doors, accessing them through her implant. She went to upload her hack program, but stopped. A chill ran down her back.
“What is wrong?”
“My hack program, it’s still here. No one scrubbed the suite’s system.”
Pawqlan’s skin paled. “That’s impossible. This is a baroness’ suite on board a luxury liner. They wouldn’t be that careless.”
Cygni ran a quick scan on her program. “It doesn’t look like it was detected.”
“How good a program did you use?”
“It’s designed to evade detection, but I figured with such high profile systems like these—” she shook her head. “Never mind, Let’s just get this over with.”
The doors opened with a wave of her hand. She dropped to her knees the moment she was within the sitting room. She placed one hand on the top of the coffee table, took a deep breath, and reached under with the other into the crevasse created by the joining of the leg and the top. She shook with relief when she felt the spy-grain, and scraped it off with her finger. With a cue from her implant, the grain started downloading the contents of its memory into her cerebral computer.
“Thank the Will, the grain was recording.” She noted the high volume of data entering her cranial storage and, not wanting to wait for it to finish, she retrieved the other grain from the upholstered chair, happy to find it full of data as well.
“Did they have defective transmitters?” Pawqlan asked.
“Doesn’t seem that way. I wonder if something in here was blocking the signal.” She willed the inner doors open and moved deeper into the suite.
“This is impressive,” Pawqlan pointed at the artificial fireplace in the spacious living area
. Its gas flame was extinguished now, but the portrait above it hadn’t been changed yet.
Cygni moved around the divans and paused to retrieve the grains from beneath the one she’d hidden behind when—when—when whatever had happened. It was strange, but she couldn’t remember what had made her duck behind it. It bothered her for a moment, then something in her mind told her to forget about it, so she did.
She moved to stand just beneath the portrait’s sad, blue eyes. She wondered how someone so rich could be so miserable. What secrets could this woman be carrying that would make her a bigger wretch than some of the people Cygni had seen in the darkest alleys of the Interstellar Bazaar.
“Pawqlan, do you know anything about what’s going on in Baroness Altair’s life? Why does she look so sad all the time?” She retrieved the last grain from the picture frame and turned to Pawqlan.
The Galaenean columnist was staring at the door. Cygni turned around the rest of the way and her eyes fell upon a Solan with dark-mocha skin wearing a high-collared, black uniform with gold trim. The letters CSA were stitched into the fabric over his left breast with silver thread. Beneath it was a gold pin holding an opal reminiscent of a solar eclipse. She hadn’t seen that pin before and its presence made her frown.
The man, who was nearly a head taller than her, regarded them with raptor’s eyes. The predatory look was enhanced by a hooked nose and crew-cut black hair that screamed “military training.” She confirmed it with his posture, the shine on his black leather boots, and the way he rigged his sidearm to be just a hair lower than she’d seen on other CSA agents so that his draw time would be just that much quicker. Once a soldier, always a soldier was more true than most people realized—particularly if you knew what to look for.
“Are you two ladies lost?” he asked in a very masculine voice.
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