Dusk (Dusk 1)

by J. S. Wayne

  Before she could say anything, Granger pressed on. “You don’t need to leave, Merrick. What I have to say concerns both of you.”

  Merrick’s eyebrows jumped a little, but otherwise he gave no indication of surprise.

  “Some of the other members and I have been talking, Olivia. We know that you and Merrick are virtually the only ones in the Corps who could not have had anything to do with Ambassador Trelawney’s death. I know myself to be innocent, but proving such a thing will take precious time the Corps can ill afford right now.”

  Olivia frowned, wondering what Granger could possibly be driving at. She raised her glass and sipped at the light pink liquid within to conceal her confusion.

  He caught the look and hurried on. “I, and many of the others, wish to nominate you as the new Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary from Dusk to the Interstellar Confederacy.”

  This bombshell caught her in mid-swallow, and she inhaled the sweet, acidic juice. Immediately she began to cough and sputter uncontrollably. Merrick pounded her back gently, trying to help her evacuate the juice from her lungs. Granger knelt in front of her, taking her hands and holding them tightly so she would not try to straighten prematurely.

  After what felt like half of eternity but was really probably less than a minute, she finally took a clear breath and pulled her hands away. Standing erect, she took another, more judicious swallow of the contents of her glass.

  Merrick glared at Granger. “So was your plan to nominate and assassinate her all in one move?”

  Granger gazed back, completely unruffled. “Hardly. A dead ambassador is of no use to us. However, we need someone who is willing to take the lead in the negotiations with Terra concerning the magickstone. We believe that you are the most qualified person to do so.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “But I’ve never even been to Terra. I would have said you or Ingrid would be a better candidate.”

  “You are not under any obligation to accept the nomination, Olivia. You need only consider it. We believe you have the energy and idealism of youth, which in this case would be assets we can hardly afford to do without. Ingrid and I both know how we would respond to the Terrans. Both of us would tell them, in no uncertain terms, to piss off. You, on the other hand, have a cooler and more strategically-oriented head. We trust you to make the best possible decision.”

  She made a noncommittal gesture with her head. “And what part does Merrick have to play in this?”

  Granger met her eyes, as if willing her to see the sincerity and truth of what he was telling her.

  “We believe Merrick could best serve as your personal security. After all, he has every reason not to want your lovely body damaged --”

  “Careful,” Merrick growled.

  “-- and is the person most ideally placed to help keep you alive,” Granger plodded on as if Merrick hadn’t spoken. “It is hardly the perfect solution, but perfection does not exist. We must deal only with what is. In this event, I think you and Merrick together make a very dangerous combination, fully capable of fighting off an attacker while still possessing enough sense to make the right decisions for all parties concerned.”

  Olivia nodded slowly. “I don’t entirely know that I like it, but put that way, it seems I have no choice. But who will vote for me?”

  Granger stepped back three paces and raised his voice so it cut through the fog of grief and anxiety cloaking the room.

  “Fellow diplomats!” he cried. “I call for an immediate vote to determine the next Ambassador to the Interstellar Confederacy. I name Olivia Gunnarson as my candidate! Who will second my vote?”

  With suspicious speed, Ingrid, Ling, Merrick, and half a dozen others cried, “Aye!”

  “Will anyone else stand forward to be considered?” Granger’s body language suggested he was willing to entertain alternate suggestions, but the look on his face and the way he bit off the words indicated dire straits ahead for anyone who dared to take up the challenge.

  No one moved.

  “Then I put it to a vote, here and now. All in favor?”

  The room erupted into a wall of sound as dozens of lungs shouted, “Aye!”

  “Do I hear anyone against?”

  Now the members hesitated, each looking at the other to see if anyone dared speak. Olivia could almost hear their thoughts: Whoever the new Ambassador was, he or she would certainly be the assassin’s next target, assuming that Trelawney had in fact been murdered because of what he knew about the gallartium negotiations and not because he had run afoul of someone for more personal reasons. Everyone there would have given their eyeteeth for the opportunity Olivia had just been handed by acclamation, but none of them was willing to purchase that opportunity or the power that came with it at the possible expense of a vastly abbreviated lifespan.

  Granger waited for an interminable count of ten and then nodded.

  “Very well. Then, fellow diplomats, it is my great pleasure to introduce you all to Her Excellency, The Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary to the Interstellar Confederacy, Olivia Gunnarson!”

  Every person in the chamber burst into applause.

  Olivia wanted nothing more than to grasp Merrick by the nearest protruding part she could grab and run. Everything was moving far too fast, from just another day of deliberations to the murder of her friend and mentor to acceding to the pinnacle of power on Dusk. No one outranked her now; even the Governor of Galacia, the closest thing to an absolute monarch the planet boasted, could look at her only as an equal.

  What the hell do I do now? she thought frantically, looking around at the familiar faces bearing markedly unfamiliar expressions that plainly said they expected her to command them.

  She held up her hands for silence. As if a switch had been flicked, she received it.

  “Everyone, take your seats,” she ordered. “We have much to consider.”

  * * *

  Olivia sagged against the wall of her room, pressing her hands against her eyes. Merrick sat on the bed, watching her as closely as he might a man juggling live, armed plasma grenades.

  “Oh, God. Merrick, what am I going to do?”

  He smiled. “You’re going to do your absolute best and make them proud they decided to give you the chance.”

  She looked anything but reassured. “Merrick, I want to do the right thing, but every instinct I have is screaming at me to just walk away from this, tell Terra we’re not interested, and let it be.”

  He longed to go to her and comfort her, but he knew Olivia well enough to know she wouldn’t appreciate the attempt right now. If she had her way about it, Merrick would discreetly exit the room and only return when she had herself back under control. Of course, as her bodyguard, Merrick was required to consider her safety first and her wishes second. It ran completely counter to his more amorous instincts where she was concerned, but he knew as well as anyone the potential danger she was in.

  Time to start thinking like a bodyguard, Merrick.

  Galacia City Security had released the scene and removed Trelawney’s body for a deep-tissue scan. The cause of death had been determined to be a stab wound to the top of the neck, directly between the Atlas vertebra and the base of the skull. According to the medic who had recorded the injury, Trelawney would have been killed instantly.

  “Probably didn’t even feel it, the poor bastard,” the medic said quietly as he shuffled past, guiding the antigrav sled on which Trelawney’s shrouded form reclined. Olivia stifled a sob, huddling into Merrick like a small animal seeking security and warmth. He held her as long as she needed, and then she moved away to talk to the chief of security.

  “Did they find anything on the security monitors?”

  Olivia shook her head, her mouth puckering into a thoughtful pout. “No. Major Latimore says the only anomalies were Trelawney’s door opening and closing by itself about a half hour apart. Maintenance is going to give it a once-over. It seems he complained about his door self-activating a couple of times
in the last few weeks, but all diagnostics come up empty. There’s no indication of anything wrong. The only print scanned was Trelawney’s, but…” She trailed off.

  “But he couldn’t exactly have stabbed himself in the back of the neck, right?”

  Olivia shivered. “Exactly.”

  “So if he didn’t, then who did?”

  She sagged to the floor, scooting up against the corner as if she needed the comfort of two solid walls at her back. “I don’t know. Everyone who had a motive didn’t have any opportunity, and everyone who had opportunity had no motive.”

  Merrick frowned. “Okay, so let’s stop looking at who could have killed him. Instead, we need to ask why.” He shook his head and amended the statement. “Allow me to rephrase. I need to ask why. You need to get briefed on the complete details of the Terran request.”

  She frowned. “How am I supposed to do that?”

  He smiled. “You’re now the ambassador. The ambassador’s files are all yours to peruse. You have to call City Security and get a one-time emergency override. Once you’re in, you can change the code to whatever you want it to be. Then the files are yours and completely secure.”

  “And what are you going to do, while I’m educating myself on everything there is to know about our diplomatic status with Terra?”

  Pushing off the bed, he walked over to her and tousled her hair. He knelt beside her so his lips just brushed her ear and whispered, “I’m going to be as close as your own shadow until you go to bed.”

  “And then?” He distinctly heard the note of anxiety beneath the words.

  “And then I’m going to be even closer, if you’ll let me.”

  Olivia turned and rewarded him with a brisk peck on the lips.

  “Better let me work, then,” she said, pushing herself to her feet with only her legs. “Do you know the code for Security?”

  He nodded. “Two six three oh four.”

  * * *

  She blinked at his nonchalant reply. “Is that the emergency or non-emergency number?” Even as she asked, she flinched at the stupid question. To reach Security in an emergency, one had only to enter the same number three times or input the sequence 12345. This made it much more simple to summon help quickly when it was needed, without forcing panicked people to try to remember a complicated contact code. “Never mind. Non-emergency.”

  She picked out the code and was surprised when her holoscreen lit up with the visage of Major Latimore himself. “Oh, I’m sorry to trouble you, Major. I need a one-time emergency override passcode for Ambassador Trelawney’s files.”

  Latimore smiled. “No trouble, Ambassador. I knew I’d be getting this call sooner or later, so I instructed the computers to auto-route any call from your code directly to me. Cuts down on the chances of anyone overhearing. Is that Merrick I see lurking in the background?” he asked, moving his head as if trying to peer around her.

  She nodded. “It is. He is now my official bodyguard, by proclamation of the DDC. He’s assured me he won’t be any further from me than my own shadow.”

  The security chief raised his eyebrows and brought one hand up to stroke at his close-cropped goatee. “Really? Then you feel secure with me reading off this code with him present, correct?”

  “I do, Major. I accept full responsibility.”

  “Very good, Ambassador. Sorry about that.” He chuckled, lapsing back into his more relaxed but still polite persona. “Protocol, you see. Keeps my ass off the hot seat as much as possible.”

  She smiled. “Understood, Major. So what’s the code?”

  “Alpha Seven Delta Four Eta Eight Sigma Three Chi Nine Zero.”

  She read back the code dutifully for verification. He nodded.

  “That’s the one. It’s good for fifteen minutes, after which you will be locked out of the files for thirty-six hours. If you want to read it back again, I’ll understand.”

  She did so and he once again agreed she had it right. “If you need anything further, Ambassador, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “I won’t,” Olivia assured him. They chatted politely for a moment, and then she disconnected. Merrick watched her carefully as she entered the passcode. The screen flickered for a moment, and then lit up with the legend, “Welcome, Ambassador Trelawney.”

  Olivia sighed sadly. “I guess this means I really am the Ambassador now.”

  Merrick couldn’t think of anything to say to that.

  He wasn’t even sure there was anything to say to that.

  * * *

  Elsewhere in Galacia, the assassin watched as the passcode flickered into ghostly life. The lag on the new ambassador’s communications was a handicap, but not an obstacle.

  Touching a control stud launched the worm that would allow unrestricted access to Olivia’s computer and any files she viewed. While there would be a slight delay, one could learn much just by watching and listening. There was no need for more intrusive measures.

  Yet.

  The holoscreen abruptly flickered to life again. The pale text against the blue backdrop read, “Welcome, Ambassador Trelawney.”

  The assassin clenched a fist in triumph. Once everything that needed to be known was known, Olivia would become dispensable. Her bodyguard might prove problematic, but even the most alert and ferocious watchdog had to sleep sometime.

  For now knowledge, not action, was the key to power.

  Settling into the comfortable hruczek-leather chair, the unseen voyeur propped chin on hands and studied the holoscreen intently, eyes flicking over the lines of text as they appeared. Speed-reading was a useful hobby, but occasionally annoying: the visible screen was consumed quickly, necessitating a wait while the next screen was brought up. The worm made it possible to assume full control of the system and analyze the data at will, but that was much too dangerous for this early phase of the proceedings.

  If there was anything the assassin understood it was the value of patience.

  The next screen appeared with agonizing slowness.

  “Interesting,” the assassin muttered, eyes darting over a key point in the text. “Very interesting indeed.”

  It seemed that dispatching Trelawney had not been as necessary as initially thought. Unfortunate. He was a talented lover. I suppose one really can teach an old dog new tricks…

  But there would be other lovers in due course. For now, the task was to watch, wait, and learn.

  A task the assassin was uniquely well-suited to.

  Chapter Six

  “Captain Silva, you have a superluminal communication. Captain Silva, you have a superluminal communication.”

  Pete snarled and pulled the covers over his ears, turning pointedly away from the strident voice of the holoscreen. He had only managed about half an hour’s sleep, after being all up until nearly dawn by his internal clock. Between pacing about, digesting his orders, and trying to learn everything there was to know about Dusk, he was in no shape to take a faster-than-light call. The only reason someone would go to the trouble and expense of tightbeaming the call instead of sending an electronic message was if something truly dire had occurred.

  That thought brought him fully awake and more than slightly pissed-off. What the hell was he doing gallivanting out toward the Rim? He didn’t have any business running an op like this!

  “Captain Silva --”

  “Patch it through, voice only.”

  The holoscreen gave a shrill electronic bleat and then a familiar male voice barked, “Silva! Are you there?”

  “Yes, General, I’m here.”

  “Did I wake you?”

  “No, sir,” he lied, glad Neville couldn’t see his sleep-drawn features.

  “Good. We have the kind of fucking mess that can end careers on our hands.”

  Oh, that’s just what I needed to hear at oh Christ thirty in the morning, Silva groused. Aloud he said, “What’s that? Did someone die?”

  “That’s not at all funny, Colonel,” Neville snapped. “As it happens, yes,
the Dusk ambassador was assassinated about four hours ago, Dusk time.”

  He glanced at the chronometer. According to the readout, when the ambassador snuffed it he’d been doing his fifth set of sit-ups, trying to get his mind off this grotesque situation.

  “Have they named a replacement?”

  “That’s the other reason I’m calling. The new ambassador is a woman named Olivia Gunnarson. I’m sending everything we know about her to you now. She’ll be the one you’ll work with the most often, so I expect you to do whatever it takes to keep the ambassador happy, pliant, and willing to conduct business with us. Is that understood, Colonel?”

  She’s probably a hundred and eighty-three, weighs in at four hundred kilos, and has skin like a Rigelian sand worm, Pete thought. Just what I want to get tangled up with. “Of course, General. I will accommodate the ambassador in every possible way.”

  “See that you do,” Neville huffed. “This fucking sideshow has already gotten out of hand and the curtain just went up on it. I’d better not hear reports of any waves from Dusk, Silva.” The warning tone of the general’s voice all but shouted that if there was so much as one ripple, Pete could expect to spend the rest of his short-lived Marine career cleaning latrines with his own toothbrush.

  “Heard, understood, and acknowledged, General. Will there be anything else?”

  Neville paused. “No. Just get this done without any more what-the-fuckery for me to have to clean up after, explain, or otherwise deal with.”

  “I will, sir.”

  Silence fell over the room. After about fifteen seconds, the holoscreen said, “Communication has been terminated.”

  He grunted. “Display electronic message from General Neville, Fritz O., to Colonel Silva, Pedro A.”

  The screen lit up again with a standard electronic dossier. He leaned forward, studying the tri-vid image with interest.

  The young woman on the screen stared out with a severe expression. Although her hair was pulled tightly back, the clean, noble lines of her face and her particle-beam eyes appealed to him greatly. He treated himself to a brief fantasy of “working closely” with the new ambassador, and found to his delight that he wasn’t the least bit disgusted at the thought.