by Sean Danker
It didn’t fit. None of it fit.
The sky was dark; the cloud cover was getting heavier, but no rain was falling.
Sei gazed down at the church.
“Look at those huge birds,” he said. I saw them. They were perched along the pointy black metal fence that ringed the place. Their feathers were black, like the fence, and they were making some loud, truly grating noises.
The church was visibly overgrown with weeds and vines, like the mausoleum we’d emerged from. Did these people not have the time to maintain their grounds? That was odd—everything else was nicely done. The grass was all neat. The house we’d seen had been taken care of. Why was the church different?
Perhaps they chose not to maintain it. That was a thought. This arrangement fairly reeked of a sort of theatrical mentality. Maybe someone had set it up to look this way deliberately.
Before I could get too far into thinking about that, the church doors opened and people began to spill out.
Sei and I stiffened, but they were being boisterous in a sociable sort of way, not because they were alarmed. We both got down and watched as they returned to their vehicles. There were more in there than I’d estimated, and they were all dressed like we were, in authentic period clothes.
Several set off along the road on foot, talking animatedly.
These people were excited about something. I couldn’t hear enough individual voices to identify accents or dialects.
We watched them disperse. They looked genuinely happy.
“Look at the vehicles,” Sei said. “Would you trust something like that?”
“Do you smell it?”
“No.”
“They’re fakes. Real ones used fossil fuels. The air here’s clean. Come on.”
The people on foot were already well on their way back to their village. If they looked back and saw us, we’d just look like locals. We were dressed for the part, though we were barefoot, and from the concerned looks Sei was giving me, my condition was growing increasingly obvious.
I started down the hill, toward the church.
“What are we going to find in there?” Sei asked, drawing even with me. He put his hands in his pockets and looked back toward the trees.
“I don’t know. Maybe some answers.” I was lost. None of this made any sense to me. I wouldn’t have thought there was a situation that I couldn’t create some kind of picture out of—but here I was without a clue. Even on Nidaros, I’d been able to draw conclusions from what was around me. That situation had been bizarre, but it had nothing on this.
The clean air and quiet was good, though. The smells and crowds of the Bazaar had been awful, particularly coupled with my physical discomfort.
As usual, the only way was forward. My growing weakness was not helping my temper.
I didn’t have time for this.
I went up to the big doors and listened briefly, then pushed them inward and peered inside. The sanctuary was dark. In the gloom I could see rows of wooden benches and hints of what appeared to be some impressive architecture.
Spirituality was a complex subject in the Empire. Obviously, there could be no higher power than the Empress herself, but she permitted the free practice of religion as long as it fell within the confines of Imperial Law.
Many people saw this as an inexplicable contradiction. There had been occasional moves to bar religion from imperial life, even from within the government itself, but they were always shut down before they could gain traction.
That wasn’t my area of expertise, though I knew more about it than some imperials. As a child of Cohengard, I was well-read on the subject of imperial philosophy and the common objections to it. Growing up, I’d even associated with people involved in the New Unity movement—not the radical terrorists, just the ones who didn’t fully believe in the Evagardian ideal.
I knew the Grand Duchess had written a great deal on the subject of religion, its role in humanity’s development, and its value as a cultural keepsake, but most of that had tied in to her views on the crucial importance of freedom of thought. She considered the question of religion’s rationality secondary; she said it didn’t matter if it was rational. The Duchess always argued that as long as people obeyed the law, they could believe whatever they liked and always be protected from persecution.
Or something like that. I didn’t really remember.
Maybe it was all the chems I’d used as Prince Dalton that had softened my memory. There were procedures I could have in the Empire that would help me recover some of that, but the Empire and I were in the final phase of our relationship, and it was an awkward one.
That operation would never happen, and I was just making excuses. That reading had been a long time ago, before the war, before Dalton.
Back then I hadn’t been sure what I wanted to do with my life. New Unity had courted me—thanks to the company I kept—but I’d never gotten too close. Well, not too close to the movement.
Growing up in Cohengard, I’d seen the aftermath of the revolt close up. And I knew how much of a disadvantage it could be to be born there, though I’d never had strong feelings about it the way some of my friends had. Griffith. And Larsen.
In fact, it was at a New Unity rally that I was—that we were—scouted and offered the opportunity to serve.
Griffith had attended the rally because of Larsen. And I had attended because of Griffith.
And now here I was.
“Who’s there?”
Sei and I whirled. A man in black emerged from a doorway at the rear. His sleeves were rolled up, and he was drying his hands with a white towel.
At first he’d sounded mildly curious, but now that he saw us, he stopped in his tracks. A long, agonizing moment passed. He had instinctively reached for the light controls, but now his hand froze just short of the panel. He dropped it to his side, cocking his head at us.
“My word. What are you boys doing awake?”
18
“WHAT’S this?” Salmagard asked, looking up in panic.
“Biohazard detected,” a female voice said over the intercom.
A second set of emergency locks clanked into place inside the door, and the air seal was audible.
“Remain calm,” the voice added. “Quarantine in effect. Remain calm. Biohazard containment personnel are mobilizing to address the situation. Remain calm. Do not attempt to leave your immediate area. Remain calm. All personnel, this is not a drill.”
Diana smirked.
Salmagard sat up. “Did you do this?”
“No. Absolutely not,” Diana replied. “Let’s just wait it out. Stay cool.”
It took her a moment, but Salmagard understood. She nodded.
“I hope it’s nothing serious.”
“Me too,” Diana said, leaning against the wall and folding her arms.
After about five minutes, the Klaxons stopped.
“Thank you for your patience,” the female voice announced. “Normal operations may resume. If any anomalies occur with quarantine measures failing to disengage, please report them to your department maintenance representative. Thank you for your cooperation. Remember, adherence to Free Trade Commission biohazard response protocols is of vital importance to us all. Have a pleasant day.”
Salmagard waited, but the door locks did not disengage. She was getting nervous. She watched Diana suck on her bleeding thumb. The red-eyed woman was trying to look nonchalant, but she hadn’t taken her eyes off the door.
It was a full ten minutes before the locks thudded out of place and the door opened, admitting a tall man with an impeccable goatee. He wore formal Isakan robes, though he was obviously not of Earth Asian descent. He waved off a security officer and yanked the door shut behind him.
For a moment he gazed at the two of them; then he took a hypo from his pocket and pressed it to his wrist.
“Are we okay to talk?” Diana asked.
Price looked puzzled. “Why wouldn’t we be?”
She let out her breath. “Thank the Empress.”
“Diana, what’s going on?” Salmagard asked.
“This guy’s a spy,” Diana said, pointing a finger at Price. “There’s something in my blood that shouldn’t be there. It’s not supposed to exist outside of some very tightly controlled laboratories in Evagardian space. So when it shows up on a bio scanner here at the Bazaar, obviously EI has to check it out. And here he is. Right on time. Are you really a board rep?”
Price looked nonplussed. “What a novel idea,” he said. “But since we’re getting to the point, what I really need from you, ma’am, is to tell me your name is Diana Kladinova. Because if you’re not Diana Kladinova, that would be bad for everyone.”
“I am.” Diana lit up her holo, and Price checked her ID.
“All right,” he said, looking relieved. “There’s no visual in here, so I couldn’t confirm. And audio’s disabled, obviously.”
“Obviously. Let me guess—my tracker went dark when we were taken, and everybody’s panicking.”
“So you were abducted? You didn’t run? How’d you end up here? You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Lieutenant.”
“I’m not in the Service anymore. It’s a long story, but we’ve got more pressing business right now.”
“Maybe you think you do. Who are you?” he asked Salmagard.
She showed her own ID, intensely conscious of her appearance. Her throat tightened, but Salmagard made herself speak. “PFC Tessa Salmagard, sir. First Fleet, assigned to the Julian. Security Forces, Negotiations, Ceremonial Guard.”
Price didn’t reply, but his eyes shifted back to Diana. “Tell me how you got here from Imperial Pointe.”
“We were taken by some kind of freelancer hustlers,” she said. “They sold us to a guy running a fuel depot outside the Bazaar. We were traveling with friends. Those friends got separated from us. We’ve been trying to locate them before they were sold, but we were too late. They’re already gone. That’s why I called for you.”
“Is that how you view me, Miss Kladinova? Someone to be summoned? If what you’re saying is true, and you really were taken, then that would be good. But regardless, we need to get you back where you belong.”
“Not going to happen,” Diana said. “We might still have a time advantage over the GRs. We’re going after our friends. I’ll do whatever the Garden wants. I’ve played by the rules. I’ve been good—but I’m not leaving until I know Sei is safe. Lieutenant Ibuki Sei. He was with me on the Tenbrook tour.”
“Your little stunt here worked,” Price said frankly, giving her a stern look. “It worked brilliantly. Because I’m going to scumbag you two out of here, and all your problems are going to go away. If you do have friends out there in trouble, I sympathize. But I have a job, and for the love of the Empress, so do you. The GRs have their job, and they’re good at it. Now, I can’t wait to hear all about what you two have been up to, because while you’re on the way to the consulate, I’m going to be submitting a long and detailed report about you, Miss Kladinova. Because this is a mess.”
“I don’t think you’re hearing me.”
“No, you’re not hearing me,” Price said firmly. “You’re an asset, Kladinova. More than that, you’re a biohazard. You’re a walking security risk. The Garden has given you too much freedom, particularly in light of your extremely disturbing record of nonexistent judgment. Now, you ending up here may or may not be your fault. I don’t care. You need to grow up, appreciate what you are, and accept the consequences. Do you realize we’re at maximum alert status right now? There is an imminent terror threat from New Unity. Do you have any idea what it looks like when this kind of alert hits on a station like this? Do you know how scary that is? Do you know how many people’s days you just completely ruined? Biohazards that a station is not prepared to counter can kill millions, Miss Kladinova. Look at Oasis.”
“Like I said,” Diana replied, unimpressed, “you’re not hearing me. Ibuki Sei is an imperial hero. He serves, just like you do. One way or another, we are getting him back safe. That hasn’t changed, has it?” She looked to Salmagard, who nodded agreement.
Diana got up and went to the door, putting her hand on the handle. “I’m giving you a choice,” she said to Price.
“What choice is that?”
“Are you going to help with the rescue, or are you going to have to get rescued?”
“I know about your family. Don’t try to threaten me. And don’t bother. The door’s sealed. You aren’t going anywhere without me.”
Diana wrenched the hatch open. Metal squealed and groaned; the mangled lock tore free of the wall, and sparks scattered across the deck.
A woman who had been walking past stood frozen, staring. Diana gave a look with her red eyes, and she quickly went on her way.
“Sir,” Diana said calmly, “what’s it going to be?”
She held up her fist suggestively.
Price was more than twice their age. He’d probably been in intelligence for as long as they’d been alive, maybe longer. He knew how to be unflappable. But he was posing as a commercial operator. He wasn’t carrying a weapon, and even if he was, what was he going to do against a pilot with extraordinary strength and a negotiator?
He was under no illusions. He didn’t have the upper hand.
Diana rammed the door back into place and rejoined them at the table.
“This is not going to go well for you,” Price said.
“Just help us,” Diana snapped.
He tapped his temple. Of course; he was a spy. He didn’t wear a physical holo; he just used implants.
“We need to find out who bought Lieutenant Ibuki,” Diana said, taking her seat. “The sale would’ve been a few hours ago now, so you’ll have to go back. I know the sales are public record.”
“But the buyers aren’t,” Price pointed out.
“Like you don’t have access to that,” Diana said derisively. “Use his official Service portrait. Search it against the index. You’ll find his record of sale.”
“I’m already doing it,” Price said, sighing. “You two do realize this is crazy, don’t you? I don’t care if you’re as strong as an EVX—you’re in over your heads.”
“Let us worry about that,” Salmagard said, following Diana’s aggressive lead. There was an opportunity here. Salmagard was already ruined. Her career was over and her good name was gone. That was settled. What wasn’t settled was whether she would live out her life knowing that she had saved the Admiral or knowing that she had failed. If she got him back, that would be a costly victory.
But it would still be a victory. Win or die trying—there could hardly be anything more Evagardian. Absurd as it was, only by defying Price’s authority could Salmagard hope to snatch back at least a scrap of honor from this appalling disaster of a day.
Diana was doing the right thing. Salmagard would back her, and she would see this through.
“Looks like he was sold along with another guy. Let’s see who this is. Huh.” Price frowned.
“What is it?” Salmagard asked, feeling her stomach drop.
“This face is flagged on my list. Looks like there was a tip a couple hours ago. Doesn’t say for what, but he’s a priority threat. And he’s marked as deceased . . . except, the time stamp—so he’s not dead. And there’s no personnel file.” Price’s e
yes had gone glassy; he was completely withdrawn. He was deep in his implant.
Salmagard’s mouth was dry.
After a moment he abruptly focused and looked up, staring at them with new eyes.
“Well,” he said. “Well—all right. All right, now I’m working with you guys. You want to find your guy, you have to find this guy too. Now we’re getting something done.” He touched his temple and flicked his eyelids, probably scanning records.
Salmagard felt sick. She knew exactly what had just happened. In the act of caving to Diana’s demands, Price had looked up Sei’s purchase—and stumbled onto the Admiral, who he’d probably had checked out on principle, just because of his connection to the sale.
And Evagard had caught it. They’d recognized him. Now the Empire knew the Admiral was involved. The Admiral had faked his death for nothing; it was all coming into the open.
“Okay. His buyer masked the transaction—that’s normal. These two were illegal. Maybe you did get kidnapped. By the Empress—what’s going on?” It was obvious that Price was seeing things he wasn’t prepared for, and it was all coming at him fast. “Marcus DeSantos? No way that’s not an alias; you aren’t from Triga.” He got up from the table and started to pace, folding his arms and smiling. His eyes widened, and he turned on Diana and Salmagard, watching them closely.
Then he keyed something and spoke quietly into his com. “Yeah, go ahead and give us some privacy. These two are being difficult, but we might be onto something here. Let’s play it out. Push them back.”
“Thank you,” Diana said.
“Don’t thank me yet. If you think you’re going to get away with threatening me, then you’re farther gone than I thought. But we can deal with that later. Who is this guy that bought your friend? And what are you doing with a priority guy on my list with ties to New Unity? You both have problems, but you aren’t New Unity. And this is a dead man. A dead man with no name. Does this have to do with our alert level? Is this the guy everyone’s so afraid of? Why doesn’t he have a name? Hmm.”