“That game – the one you were watching – was the fleur-de-lis showdown of the century. The Emerald Knights versus the Night Witches for the final, but Chevreuse busted her ankle three days before the game.”
Dana nodded. “Chevreuse was their third teammate?”
Athos’ tone was almost fond. “Former minister of Public Relations. Used to give the Cardinal absolute hell on the Palace Council. Nice legs. Excellent pole-defence. And just good friends with Aramis, since you’re after all the dirt.”
Dana certainly knew enough to understand what ‘just good friends with Aramis’ meant. She reached for the remote that Grimaud had left behind, and called up the image of the cam panning the audience. “Is that her?”
The woman with the purple hair and Emerald Knights colours, pulling a horrid face into the cam feed, then laughing.
“That’s her. She insisted we all go to the game – we were playing nice and waiting to see if her latest breakup with Aramis was going to stick. I had to carry the wretched woman to her seat.” Athos didn’t sound like he had minded much. “Chevreuse, Conrad and Alek were unbeaten that season. She practically threw herself off a balcony when she realised she wouldn’t be able to play the match against the Night Witches. But – did I mention Chev was a political genius?”
Dana couldn’t believe she was jealous of this woman who had been friends with the Musketeers – her Musketeers – before she came to Paris. “No, you didn’t.”
“She figured out a loophole in the rules. If anyone subbed for her in that match, it wouldn’t count as the same team, and they’d lose the ‘Invincible’ claim for the season. But the Duchess of Buckingham was an Ambassador, and there was a legal twist that allowed her to take on the duties of any member of the Palace Council, as if she were that person. Contracts are sacred in Paris.” Athos’ mood had certainly warmed up. He poured Dana a drink of her own. “Brilliant move. So Buck took Chev’s place, they beat the Night Witches 6-3, and the rest is history.”
Dana leaned in. “And?”
“There is no and.”
“A few minutes ago, you were furious I was bringing all this up. The twist ending to the story is … their team won and everyone was happy? I don’t buy it, Athos.”
“Something happened,” he admitted. “There was a party afterwards, and things got out of hand. Sometime in the early hours, Chevreuse asked me to delete some security footage as a favour to her, which I did. I assumed it had something to do with Prince Alek, but I. Didn’t. Ask.” His blue eyes blazed at Dana. “Even if I knew anything, I wouldn’t tell you. We serve the Crown first.”
“Crown first,” Dana agreed quietly.
“The Regence was informed about the incident. Buck was sent on a tour of Honour, with the expectation she not return to Paris during her contract as Ambassador. Her time must be nearly up by now – she’ll be heading home to Valour any day. As for Chevreuse…” Athos sighed, looking tired. “The Cardinal had been trying to get rid of her for years. Chevreuse has been living in exile ever since. Artemisia, I think.”
Artemisia was one of the cities in orbit around the ocean world of Truth. Dana had visited there once – a nice enough place, but no Paris Satellite. She wasn’t jealous of Chevreuse any more.
Athos reached for the bottle of whiskey again. “Those are the stakes you’re playing for, sweetness, when you get involved in palace politics.”
“I don’t think you’d better drink any more,” Dana said. “Not if we’re going to rescue Conrad Su from the Cardinal.”
A smile played over Athos’ mouth. It looked different, with the beard so close-shaven. “I don’t believe I volunteered. Madame Su isn’t my landlady.”
Dana leaned in. “Are you going to make me say it?”
“Don’t, D’Artagnan,” he warned. It was a teasing voice and nothing like the unexpected anger that had flown out of him when he first arrived.
“All for one…”
Athos hissed and set the bottle down. “Really? You’re seriously pulling this? You’re not even a…”
“And one for all,” finished Dana.
He glared at her for a long time. “I’ll call the others.”
“Good plan.”
11
The Friand of Aramis, the Espresso of Athos & the Convenient Boyfriend of Porthos.
“I’ve never broken into a spaceship before,” said Planchet excitedly. “At least, not a spaceship that belonged to someone who might turn up at any moment and shoot us.”
“Ye of little faith,” said Porthos over the comm. “I’ve have you know that Edwin and I…”
“Edmund,” corrected the helpful and convenient boyfriend of Porthos, who worked for station security and was letting her take a few liberties with the cam feeds.
“Ed and I are on the job,” said Porthos smoothly. “And I can tell you right now that the glamorous villain in the watermelon-coloured flight suit is currently drinking mocha shots on the Stellar Concourse. Her engie, meanwhile, is taking in some adult entertainment at the Ishtar Club. Oh, and the security cams on E Dock are all mysteriously glitching, and will continue to do so for the next hour or so.”
“No idea why,” said the deadpan voice of Ed.
Planchet consulted her clamshell tablet, checking the manual specs one more time. “Keep watch, Cap,” she said cheerfully. “I’m going in.”
“I’m not a Captain,” Dana sighed. Technically, her rank was Mecha Cadet, but when she was at work, she was generally referred to as Squaddie, because Essart was the sort of jolly commander who liked everything to be informal and friendly. It was horrible.
“I keep forgetting,” said Planchet. “Don’t worry, Cap. You’ll get there in the end.” She had moved capably into the role of engie, despite Dana not having a dart to offer her, musket-class or otherwise.
As Dana watched, Planchet stuck a small steel stud on the side of the Moth. When she activated it from her clamshell, a bright neon web swept across the entire ship and pulsed three times before disappearing.
“Interesting,” mused Planchet, peering at the info dump as it peeled across her screen.
“Can we hurry it up?” Dana said anxiously. “The cams might be off, but anyone could walk on through…”
“There’s one warm body on this ship.”
Dana blinked. “Is it Conrad Su? Can you tell? Or another engie?” She had no intention of underestimating the resources that Rosnay Cho had at her disposal, especially if she was working directly for the Church of All.
“The hair colour’s right,” said Planchet, chewing her own lip.
“Sounds promising. How do we get in? What’s the weak spot?”
“The back hatch,” said Planchet. “No, wait.” She ran around the back of the Moth, and Dana followed her. “Look at that!”
The beautiful curve of the ship’s rear end had a gleaming, perfect surface. As Dana watched, though, it bubbled and bent outwards. “I suppose that’s a weak spot,” she said doubtfully. “Is there something wrong with the ship?”
“That’s not the ship,” said Planchet, sounding gleeful. “That’s the prisoner. I think he’s set off a melt-mine.” She leaned forward in fascination. “I’ve never seen one used except in simulations, that’s extreme!”
Dana pulled Planchet back beneath the landing gear. As they watched, a hole tore itself in the back of the Moth fighter, leaving ugly edges of twisted metal. On the one hand, it was a crime to cause such damage to a thing of beauty like this Moth fighter. On the other hand, the ship belonged to Ro, and that made it hilarious.
A head of bright blue hair stuck out from the twisted hole, and then a stocky athlete of a man, barely Dana’s age if he was a day, catapulted out of the informal exit and rolled neatly on the ground.
“Hey,” Dana called softly. She considered saying, “Hey, I’m Dana and I’m here to rescue you today,” but she managed to restrain herself.
Conrad Su was not in the mood to be rescued. “Keep back,” he warned, and leaped up
on to the wing of the Moth. “I’m done with you bastards. If the Cardinal wants to lock me up without trial, she can bloody well do it herself.”
“Your wife sent us!” Dana yelled up after him. “We have to get you to safety.”
“Thanks,” he laughed. “But I trust my wife about as much as I trust the Cardinal. I’m going home.” He leaped from the Moth on to a nearby drone carrier, and then a venturer, and so on across the row of ships.
“Go after him,” Dana said to Planchet, pushing her forward. “He should recognise you.”
“I think he’s too busy rescuing himself,” said Planchet, sounding impressed.
“That won’t last long if he heads home!” Porthos had reported back that the Su apartment was still packed with Red Hammers ready to arrest anyone who rang the buzzer.
Planchet scampered after the escaped prisoner. “Monsieur Su! Stop!”
Aramis had picked the short straw. Rosnay Cho’s engineer Foy had some dubious tastes in entertainment, and the tacky shenanigans of The Ishtar Club were about as sexy as holo-cartoons.
Finally, Foy replied to a message through his comm, and stood up to leave. Aramis did the same, leaving a large tip by her drink as she followed him out.
“We’re on the move,” she said quietly into her own comm.
“Heading this way, or back to the ship?” Athos asked in her ear.
“He’s strolling back along the promenade,” said Porthos in her other ear. “Towards you and Cho.”
“Order me an espresso and a friand,” said Aramis. She liked the warm friands that they printed down on Stellar.
“You’re paying,” Athos told her, and she heard the chime that told her someone was accessing her credit.
“I should never have given you the code,” Aramis groaned.
She kept half an eye on Foy as she strolled back along the promenade that overlooked the Stellar Concourse. There was Athos, sitting at one of the cafes on the lower level, his Musketeer jacket a bright blue beacon. From where he sat, he had line of sight on his own mark, the infamous Rosnay Cho.
Aramis had heard a lot about the Cardinal’s special agent over the years, but had never actually set eyes on the woman. Athos had failed to mention how spectacular Cho was to look at, from her confident body language to the long scar across her face accentuating her raw beauty. Trouble in a flight suit that fit well in all the right places. “I’m starting to see why young D’Artagnan has taken such a close interest in this woman,” Aramis murmured into her comm.
“Behave,” chided Athos. She watched him reach out and take something from the food printer embedded in the table. “Get over here, or I will eat your cake.”
She ran down the stairs lightly, and kissed him on both cheeks as she joined him at the table, as if they hadn’t seen each other in years. “Next time, you can take the part of the mission that means sitting in a strip club.” She bit into the friand, still warm from the printer.
“Fun afternoon, was it?”
“I’ve never been so disinterested in naked boobs in my life before. All the pink lights and cheesy peep-hole costumes and glitter everywhere.” Aramis shuddered. “I wanted to wrap the women up in cardigans and take them home all with me.”
Athos raised his eyebrows.
“Not like that,” she growled. “I wanted to feed them soup and rub their feet. Those shoes look so uncomfortable.”
“As would be the glitter.”
“Don’t remind me.” Aramis concentrated on her cake and coffee for a moment, letting Athos observe Cho and the engie.
“Aramis,” he said after a moment.
“Mmm?” she said with her mouth full.
“Do you remember the parties after the big game, about six months ago? The fleur-de-lis final during Joyeux?”
Aramis finished chewing, and blew on her coffee. “I remember getting wasted because Chevreuse and I had broken up. There were some really good drugs and excellent music and possibly it snowed indoors unless that was a side effect of the drugs, and oh yes, you got up to something suspicious with my ex that got her exiled, so thanks for that.”
“I had very little to do with it,” he said sourly.
Aramis missed Chevreuse. She had been a good friend as well as a lover, and a fun time all around. Conveniently, the distance they had between them now made it possible to forget all the blazing rows they had shared in between the fun nights out and long nights in.
“That’s the night I’m thinking of, yes,” Athos went on, and apparently they were still talking about this. Huh.
Aramis set down her coffee and peered at him. “Is that what all this is about? The same old – scandal that never was?” Did that mean they were going to have that other conversation about Chevreuse, the one Athos only ever started when too drunk to remember it the next day?
“Perhaps.” Athos glanced briefly over at Rosnay Cho. “Porthos, how is D’Artagnan getting on?”
“A snag or two,” said Porthos in their comms. “But she found the fella she was looking for.”
“A successful mission, then,” said Athos, ordering another espresso. “I loathe surveillance.”
“I know,” said Aramis, patting his hand. “You think such deep thoughts when you’re left on your own. It upsets your stomach.”
“Why do you think I surround myself with people who never shut up?”
“This sounds promising,” Porthos broke in, patching Rosnay Cho’s clamshell into their comms.
“The wife should be comfortable in the Armoury,” said Cho, as clearly as if she were sharing the table with them. “Our guest might change his mind about talking once he knows that the Church has her in custody.” She drummed her fingers on the table.
“What’s the word from Milord?” asked Foy.
Aramis glanced at Athos with curiosity in her eyes. “Milord,” she mouthed.
Athos shrugged in response. It meant nothing to him.
“Bastard likes to tease,” said Cho. “But he’ll come through. He always does.” She checked her clamshell, and frowned. “There’s one loose end I don’t like. The Su family have a lodger, and no one’s seen them all day. Why does the name D’Artagnan sound so familiar?”
Athos and Aramis went very still.
“Don’t you remember?” the engie guffawed. “Back on Meung Station. The buttercup?”
Cho laughed, too. “Don’t suppose it’s the same kid. But I’ll stroll up to the Su residence to see how their mousetrap is going. Anyone who calls on that family over the next few days gets taken in for questioning. If the lodger is our little buttercup, I’ll enjoy the look on her face when she gets arrested.” She got to her feet. “Go check that the Moth is charged up, file a flight plan for 20:00 hours. I need to be down on Luna Palais before midnight, to report to her Eminence.”
“D’Artagnan,” Aramis said softly into the comm. “Engie coming your way. Get out of there.”
“Already out,” came the muffled voice of Dana. “How long?”
“Ten minutes or so, maybe fifteen if there’s traffic on the spherelifts.”
“I can make extra traffic,” Porthos volunteered. “Can’t we, Ed?”
“You’re enjoying the power a little too much, darling,” observed Ed, but he didn’t object.
“Do you want to take the dreadlocks or the angry trousers?” asked Aramis. Rosnay Cho was already walking away, in the opposite direction to her engie.
“You take the engineer,” said Athos. “I fancy this mousetrap of theirs. If Cho and her Red Hammer friends are looking for a D’Artagnan, maybe they should find one.”
Aramis didn’t like the sound of that. She gave him a hard look. “Planning on convincing a bunch of Hammers that you’re a short, black Gascon with girl parts?”
“A physical description will make things harder, if they have one.” Athos admitted. “But I can be very convincing.”
“As long as there aren’t any Sabres there who recognise you.”
“I don’t know if you’ve
noticed, but someone cut my hair recently. I could be anyone.” He had a mischievous light in his eyes.
Athos smiling while sober was rare, but Athos allowing himself to enjoy something other than wine and swordplay was a thing to behold. “You should probably take off your Musketeer jacket,” Aramis suggested. “If you’re serious about pretending to be someone else.”
“That sounds like cheating.”
“We have more fun since she joined us, don’t you think?”
Athos gulped down the last mouthful of his espresso. “It’s better than being stabbed in the chest,” he conceded. “But the day is young.”
When she first set out to rescue Conrad Su, Dana had not envisaged ending up with him flat on the floor beneath her, caught a secure headlock. “Planchet, how do you know this hellcat?” Conrad hissed, arching his back up as if trying to throw her off.
Dana was small, but sturdy and strong. She held firm, squeezing him a little tighter around the throat. “Do you want me to explain it again?”
“No,” Conrad snarled. “I want Planchet to explain.
Planchet loomed into view over both, grinning all over her freckled face. “Dana’s a pilot!” she said brightly. “I’m going to be her engie when she’s a Musketeer.”
Dana should correct that ‘when’ to ‘if’, she knew, but she couldn’t bear to dampen the kid’s enthusiasm. “That’s not relevant,” she said instead.
“She is Madame Su’s new lodger,” Planchet added. “We came to rescue you. Was that a melt-mine on the side of the ship? That was amazing!”
“A piece of tech I picked up from a friend,” said Conrad, lying still now. “Dana, then.”
“D’Artagnan,” Dana corrected.
“I think as long as you’re sitting on my back, I can call you by your first name. Swear by your honour and your ship that you’re not working for the Cardinal.”
“I don’t have a ship,” Dana sighed. “But I’ll swear on my honour and all future ships.”
Musketeer Space Page 10