by Jay Allan
“Bullshit. The point is—”
“Do not speak to me in—”
“The point is you will do everything in your power not to have to spend time with me. I’m nothing but a nuisance in the way of your damn career—but hey, it’s fine. Say the word and I’ll be out of your hair forever. I’ve got things to do anyway.”
She opened her mouth to retort…then closed it.
How could she tell her daughter it was a knife in the heart every single time she looked at her? That she saw David in the light in her eyes, the way she walked, her voice, her smile and even her frown? That she could hardly bear to be in the house where he was a ghost in every shadow and a whisper in every corner, yet couldn’t bear to let it go for the same reason? That she sought refuge in work because it was the only place where she could pretend there wasn’t a hole in the world? Where she could at least try to make sure he didn’t die in vain?
She couldn’t, of course.
“Don’t be absurd. You are my daughter, and I care about you. But with the implementation of the armistice there’s a tremendous amount of work to do. A lot of changes are on the way. Someone has to ensure matters are handled properly.”
“Chto za khuynya! I don’t understand why you agreed to the armistice in the first place. We should have blown Seneca into space dust.”
“Alexis, please mind your mouth. Cursing in Russian is still cursing.”
“I certainly hope so. And my name is Alex.”
She gritted her teeth in frustration, inhaling a deep breath to swallow her initial response. “’I’ did not agree to the armistice—you know better. The Prime Minister and the Assembly did, because the simple fact is we were taking too many losses. It was against Alliance interests to get into a long and messy quagmire.”
“A ‘quagmire’? Is that what you call them murdering Dad? That’s cold, Mom, even for you.”
“Don’t you dare say such a thing. Your father died a hero.”
“So everyone keeps telling me. You know what? He’s still dead. They should be, too.”
Yes they should be. But David wouldn’t want—wouldn’t have wanted—it. “I’m afraid their fate isn’t up to me. But one thing which is up to me is your punishment. You are on home restriction until such time as I feel you’ve learned to be responsible. You can go to school and activities I have approved beforehand. Otherwise, the security system will not allow you to leave. If you get into trouble while at school, you will be holoing your studies for the foreseeable future.”
“I’ll just hack it.”
“Young lady, I have people working for me who are far better hackers than you. You will not.”
Alexis shrugged, threw her feet up on the dash and crossed her arms over her chest. “Right. Absolutely. You’ve got me.”
Naturally, she had hacked the security system within the week; the tougher encryption subsequently added, two weeks later. And after that….
She gave the Minister a tight, formal expression. “Well, she hasn’t taken my advice in quite some time. In any event, if you legitimately want her to accept the position, I’m afraid asking me to press the matter is not the tact you want to take. I think it best if you reached out to her directly.”
He exhaled in a suggestion of weary acceptance and stood. She stood with him and accepted his outstretched hand.
“Thank you for your time, Admiral, and your frankness. I’ll likely do that.”
“Certainly, Minister. My door is always open.” It was a bald-faced lie, but one she had uttered at countless dinner parties and conferences, and she delivered it as smoothly as any greeting.
Once he had departed, she drifted to the window. Fall came early here, and the sun had already begun its descent into the waters.
Perhaps her suggestion to the Minister hadn’t been such a good idea after all. Please, Alexis, don’t tell the man to fuck off.
She thought on it a minute, then turned on a heel and went down the hall to Richard’s office.
A checkerboard of screens decorated his desktop surface and an aural hovered in front of his right eye. When she walked in he shut off the aural and smiled, though it was a weak attempt. “What’s up?”
She didn’t respond immediately, instead pacing halfway across the room, hands clasped behind her back, before stopping to look at him. “You took Alexis back to the spaceport the other day, right?”
“Yeah, I caught her on her way out. Why?”
“Did she by chance say anything about the Deep Space Exploration offer?”
He huffed a brief laugh. “Not anything you want to hear.”
Her eyes squeezed shut in a grimace. “Excellent. The Minister just left my office. He’s rather eager—disturbingly so, actually—for her to accept the post. I told him he should contact her, but now I’m not convinced it was the correct thing to do.”
He gave her an understanding smile, this one genuine. “Well, I’m not sure it really matters. She left Earth yesterday morning.”
She sighed softly. “Of course she did. Listen, there’s something else. Karolyn said he was receiving political pressure to name Alexis to the post. I don’t suppose you’ve heard any chatter about that?”
“Miriam, I’m shocked you would imply we spy on domestic political affairs.”
“No you’re not.”
“Ha…no, I’m not. To answer your question, not a peep.”
“Damn. I know you’re underwater right now with the Summit, but if you get a few minutes could you dig around a little? It bothers me that politicians are meddling in her affairs without my—”
“Approval?”
“Knowledge.”
His hands rose in surrender. “Okay, I’ll look into it. It may take a few days.”
“Thanks, Richard. I’ll let you get back to work. Try to get some rest though—you know next week is going to be worse.”
*
Despite Miriam’s advice, it was almost twenty-two hundred before Richard walked in the door to his home in the foothills above Lake Sammamish.
Intelligence agents were now integrated into the official Alliance delegation to the Summit, the convention center staff, invited guests and rather voluminous press covering the event. By Monday morning on Atlantis (which for added fun was around three in the morning in Seattle) all his assets would be in place, and everything they saw, touched and interacted with fed to his office via an instantaneous quantum entanglement communication network.
He was met at the door by a kiss and a tumbler of whiskey.
He happily accepted the kiss but looked askance at the whiskey. “Will, I have to be back at the office in seven hours.”
“And thus you need to relax and unwind in the most efficient manner possible.” Will nudged him toward the living room while still holding out the glass. He sighed, felt a small percentage of the stress escape with the breath, and acceded to both the nudge and the glass.
He sank into the couch, grateful—not for the first time—for a home which was truly a refuge from the madness. The glass at his lips, he took a long sip and relished the smooth fire of the whiskey as it scorched down his throat. “You know, I could get used to this ‘manservant tending to my every need’ routine.”
“Well, don’t.” Will chuckled while he dimmed the lights and crossed the room to settle onto the couch beside him. “My next project starts in three weeks, though at least it’s a bit closer, on Demeter. Building a performing arts center, if you can believe it. But you can live the dream until then if you like.”
“I like….” He made an effort to smile and rub Will’s shoulder, but his head fell back against the cushion and the smile gave way to a groan. The Summit hadn’t even started yet and he was already ready to tear his hair out. Although to be fair, much of the stress of the day had resulted from the ridiculous volume of bureaucracy involved in placing agents inside the official delegation. One of the best things about intelligence work was the lack of bureaucracy—but not this time. It paled in comparison sole
ly to the sheer politics involved in placing agents in the press unit.
He tried again to push the hassles to the back of his mind. Refuge. “I absolutely believe it. Demeter fancies itself the next Romane, some kind of mecca of wealth and refined luxury or other. But hey, it’s close enough you’ll be able to come home most weekends, right?”
“Most, hopefully.” Will rubbed his chin with his fingertips, which usually meant he was bothered by something.
Richard straightened up a little. “I’m sorry work happens to suck at the exact moment you’re home and have actual free time. If I could do anything to change it, I would.”
Will shook his head. “No, I know. I mean I understand. This is life, and we have all of it to be together. It’s…listen, why don’t you just go to Atlantis? It’d be easier than trying to control the circus from your office eighteen hours a day, and hey, at least you’d get a little sun.”
He stared out the windows lining the opposite wall, comforted by the knowledge there was a beautiful view out there in the darkness. “Because if the EASC Naval Intelligence Liaison shows up at the Summit then someone might think we were engaging in covert spying activities—and we wouldn’t want that.”
“Yes, and otherwise they’ll never suspect any such thing.”
“Oh, certainly not.” He sighed and took another sip of the whiskey. Will had been right; it was helping. “It’s the game we play with our adversary. Both sides pretend to be upstanding, sincere and earnest. Both sides secretly try to undermine the other at every opportunity. The status quo continues.”
“Or you could simply say ‘to Hell with the whole damn thing’ and go have a drink together.” At Richard’s incredulous glance, he shrugged. “Look. Earth controls sixty-seven worlds, already more than they can manage. The Senecan Federation wanted independence and they got it. They’re thriving and successful and have a lot to offer. I for one would jump at the chance to work on several of the projects they’re pursuing. But I can’t, because I’m from Earth—”
“—and because you’re married to me.”
“Which is a price I’ll gladly pay every day for the rest of my life.” He squeezed Richard’s hand to emphasize the point, then leaned forward to rest his forearms on his knees. “I’m merely saying we don’t need to keep carrying around all this animosity. The war ended twenty-two years ago.”
“Twenty-two years is the blink of an eye for the people involved. Some wounds don’t heal so quickly.”
“You’re talking about Miriam, and Alex.”
He cast his gaze to the ceiling. “Without a doubt. And thousands, Hell, millions of others…I don’t know, maybe I’m talking about me, too. I mean, I lost my best friend, and several damn good ones. I don’t consider myself as walking around bearing a grudge, but if faced with the option, I’m not sure I’m ready to be friends with the Senecans.”
Will’s nod bore conviction. “I get that, I do. My uncle died in the war. He was a good man, and my aunt has never gotten over it. And I hate I never had the chance to know David.” He paused, the telltale twitch of his mouth a hint he was pondering whether to continue. “But I still think everyone might benefit if we found a way to put aside the past and move on.”
Richard closed his eyes, but there was a smile on his lips. Will would have made an even better diplomat than he did a construction project manager…but it was only a sign of how much he cared. He laughed and finished off the glass of whiskey. “Except me—I’d be out of a job.”
Will leaned in closer. “That’s fine. I’ll support you, and you can be my manservant.”
CHAPTER 6: New Babel
Independent Colony
Olivia Montegreu woke to the sensation of calloused fingertips dancing along her hip.
She stretched and rolled over, to be greeted with the smiling face of…she had never asked his name. Not as if it mattered. He was handsome and well-packaged and enthusiastic and couldn’t be older than twenty-five.
He leaned over to kiss her, but she wound a hand into his hair and urged him lower instead. “Be a good boy and finish what you started.”
He grinned as he kissed down her lean, smooth stomach, wasting little time in reaching his destination.
She closed her eyes and let her head fall to the pillow. What a fabulous way to start the day….
When she had finished, she nudged him off the bed with her toes. “That was lovely. You’ll find your clothes laundered and folded in the entryway. The receptionist in the lobby will call you a cab if you need one.”
He stood, nonchalantly wiping the excess moisture from his lips. “Can I see you again?”
She was already on the way to the shower and didn’t bother to turn around. “Oh, I doubt it.”
Forty minutes later she was seated at her desk, legs crossed elegantly beneath the burnished copper surface. A black silk sarong contrasted against her pale blond hair combed straight to drape down her back. It was all meticulously crafted to project the desired image.
She regarded the nondescript man standing across the desk from her with the slightest tilt of her head.
“Kill her.”
He nodded, unsurprised. “Yes, ma’am. Should I pin the blame on anyone in particular? Maybe Trenton’s group?”
“No. I want everyone to know this one came from me.”
“Understood, ma’am. I’ll inform you once it’s done.”
“No need; I assume you are capable enough. Simply do it.”
The man’s throat worked, his composure faltering. “Of course, Ms. Montegreu. Is there anything else?”
“I hope not. Go.” She flicked a perfectly manicured hand in the direction of the exit. He spun on his heel and hurried toward the door.
She rolled her eyes in irritation, but it was for show. Gesson was a competent enforcer, a crafty overseer and most importantly, not overly ambitious. On uncovering evidence the woman in charge of managing new chimeral distribution was skimming off the top, he had first confirmed the evidence then reported it directly to her. She was confident he would handle disposing of the embezzler with similar efficiency.
Once he had departed, she carried her hot tea over to the windows to inspect the morning.
New Babel’s mornings looked suspiciously like its nights, on account of its distant blue dwarf sun and the heavy cloud of dust and gases from the surrounding nebula. It was hardly the most hospitable of planets, but it had two things going for it: an abundance of heavy metals which made industrial construction cheap and fast, and a natural barrier via the nebula against both electronic surveillance and warfare.
As such, it had become a home base for a wide swath of criminal organizations and black market entrepreneurs. There was no government to speak of and even less regulation; the strongest organizations built what they needed when and where they needed it.
The result was a chaotic architecture of high-rises, slums, factories, markets and red-light clusters…well, much of what occurred on the streets of New Babel would qualify as ‘red-light’ on other worlds. Here it took on a whole new meaning.
Her office stood in stark contrast to the dark, grimy, overcrowded city beneath it—quite deliberately so. The entire penthouse suite was spacious, minimally adorned and spotless. A décor of natural marble floors, white mahogany furnishings and copper and glass complements served as a declaration to all who entered that she existed above and apart from the masses below. Like her attire, appearance and bearing, it projected only and entirely what she desired to convey: refinement, prestige, exceptionality. But above all, power.
A soft chime in her ear reminded her it was time for the call. She stepped into the triple-shielded, soundproof QEC room hidden behind the visually seamless right wall of her office. Ten seconds later a holo shimmered into existence in front of her.
It revealed a man of indeterminate age, handsome and clean-cut but average in every way—medium skin tone, medium brown hair, medium height, medium build.
That is, until he looked up and
met her gaze. Piercing, sea-green eyes hinted at intelligence and cunning, along with an indefinable spark which hinted at something else altogether. The overall effect was to transform what had been an ordinary man into one who radiated dynamism, charisma and authority.
She smiled darkly. “Marcus, it’s good to see you again.”
He raised an eyebrow in mock appreciation. “And you, Olivia. May I say you are even more beautiful than the last time we talked.”
“You may say it, but you need to work on your sincerity a bit.”
He shrugged. “It’s a finite resource, and I need to save it for the constituents. What’s the status?”
“We received the materials day before yesterday. They’re stored in a secure location until it’s time to deploy them. The team has been selected, every member screened by me, and is leaving tomorrow to train on Cosenti. The lead expects to have the final details worked out by late next week.”
“Traceability?”
“Ah, Marcus, always concerned first and foremost with covering your own ass—I know, I know, your ass must be covered for later phases to work. I get it. To you? None. To me? Virtually none. The only conceivable link is the lead, and his cover is so deep it will take Senecan Intel months to begin to peel back the layers in the highly unlikely event he’s identified.”
“Will he break under coercion?”
“It won’t be an issue.”
The muscles in his jaw flexed. “Oh, really?”
“Oh, really. I have it covered. Regardless, he and the rest of the team know nothing of you. No one save me knows anything of you. That was the agreement, and I honor my agreements.”
“True…” a hand rose to knead at his chin “…you are the sole link to me.”
She tsked him reproachfully. “If you try to kill me, you will not succeed.”
“Oh, I’m sure. And I won’t need to try, because you are nothing if not power-hungry, and this little project of ours will bring you more power than you ever dreamed of.”
“I can dream of a lot.”
“And you shall have it all—so long as you make certain Palluda goes down cleanly.”