“Yep,” said Dana, who had checked twice that she was able to release the opening mechanisms from the inside. “It’ll take me nearly that long to get this done.”
“That doesn’t sound promising,” said Planchet, her smile dimming slightly.
“He’s a fixer-upper. There’s a lot more wrong with the internals than a few burned-out circuits.”
Not even that report could get Planchet down. “I wouldn’t want it to be too easy, that’d be boring!”
“This is why I will never become an engineer,” Dana groaned.
Planchet laughed and ran off on her errand, with all the energy of a robot puppy.
Dana continued with her diagnostic. The view screens worked, which was something of a miracle as she wasn’t entirely sure what they were connected to. She was about to prise up a panel to see the state of the wiring when a familiar figure walked straight past the front of the mecha.
It was Conrad Su. She had never seen him here before, though of course it was technically his home. He stopped before the door to his wife’s office, about to knock, then walked away a few paces instead.
Dana felt odd, not letting him know she was here. There was no way to reveal her presence that wouldn’t be extremely awkward. At least this way she could be awkward on her own without him knowing about it.
Conrad returned to the door and knocked quickly, before he could change his mind. “Jingfei?”
Madame Su emerged, staring at him in a very unfriendly manner. She closed the door behind her, not inviting him inside. “It’s you.”
Conrad dragged a hand through his spiky blue hair – a nervous habit of his. “How are you? I mean, after -”
“I am somewhat recovered from being imprisoned, threatened and scared half to death, thank you so much for asking,” she hissed.
He reached out, touching her arm. “I am sorry about all that. I never meant to bring it down on you.”
Madame Su crossed her arms. “You never think, do you? This is what I get for marrying such a boy. It’s all games and sports and friends and danger, without a thought of those who get hurt along the way!”
They looked at each other for a long moment, and then Conrad hugged her, murmuring apologies. Madame Su scowled darkly, but allowed him to comfort her, angrily wiping a dash of tears from one eye so he wouldn’t see them.
Dana had never felt more like an intruder in her life. At least the mecha was disabled and so her every embarrassed twitch she made would not be reflected by its giant limbs flailing around. She would have given anything to be able to sidle away, unseen.
Conrad drew back from his wife, kissing her once on the forehead. “Jingfei, I’m sorry, I really am, but I need your help. I can only ask someone that I trust.”
Madame Su pushed him away. “What trouble have you got yourself into now, brat?”
“It’s nothing bad, or even difficult. But I need you to carry a letter to Valour for me.”
Valour. Dana hissed beneath her breath.
“Valour?” Madame Su said in astonishment. “You want me to travel to another planet as some messenger bird? I have a business to run here!”
Conrad was showing his anxiety now. “There’s no time to waste. I can’t go myself, the Palace –”
“Oh yes, your precious Palace,” Madame Su mocked. “I have a new contract to fill for the Calais, and more coming from a very important new patron. I don’t have time for your little intrigues. Hire a Raven if you can’t send a text like a normal person.”
“Jingfei,” he whispered, pleading with her. “It’s important. For the Crown.”
His wife arched back as if he had said something shocking, and then she smiled an oddly cruel sort of smile. “Conrad, darling. Not everyone serves the Crown first.”
There was a pause as he took in her words. Then he straightened, nodding as if she had said something polite and completely uninteresting. “My mistake. I’m sorry, Jingfei. I won’t bother you with this again.”
Madame Su held her cheek out to him. Conrad kissed her dutifully, and walked away, his boots making a muffled sound against the metal floor.
Dana let out a long, painful breath. She wished she had not seen that. A moment later, what she saw was fifty times worse.
“Is he gone?” asked a voice from inside Madame Su’s office.
“Yes,” said Madame Su in a shaky voice. “Did I do the right thing?”
To Dana’s horror, when the guest emerged from the office, it was the familiar figure of the Moth pilot from Meung – Special Agent Rosnay Cho. Today’s flight suit was a pale green, with two matching hair combs in the same colour, glittering with jade studs. “I would have preferred it if you had thought quickly enough to take the letter,” Ro drawled. “Then we’d know what his master was up to. But this will do nicely for now. Thank you for your help.” She patted the other woman on the shoulder.
Madame Su straightened with pride. “The Cardinal is a good woman. I know she has everyone’s best interests at heart.”
Ro sent her a jagged smile. “She pays well, too. Enjoy your new contracts, Madame Su. I think you’ll find them generous.” She left the workshop in that long, confident stride of hers, hair sweeping out behind her.
Dana waited until she was sure that Madame Su was back in her office. Then she slowly let herself out of the mecha, stretching her sore limbs when she was free of confinement. She dashed out of the workshop only to run smack bang into Planchet, who was carrying a box of pastries.
“Aaaargh!” Dana yelled, her nerves already jangled beyond their limits.
“Aaargh!” Planchet replied. “Why are we yelling? What’s -”
But Dana did not let her ask any more than that. She grabbed her by the collar and pulled her along. “Did you see Conrad on your way over?”
“Yes, he’s mooching over near the Promenade, looking cross. I didn’t like to -”
“Shush!”
Dana hurried along the nearest walkway, which came out above the Promenade. She spotted the still figure of Rosnay Cho leaning on the rail, watching Conrad Su from a distance. He sat at a cafe table on the lower level; his shoulders slumped in defeat. He had no idea that he was being so closely observed.
“He needs a pastry,” Planchet said sympathetically.
“No,” said Dana. “You know who needs pastry? That one.” She pointed at Ro. “She’s the woman who abducted him.”
Planchet wrapped a protective arm around her pastry box. “If that’s true, I don’t feel she deserves pastry.”
“I need you to cause a distraction. Then I will buy you a new box of any baked goods you like. Promise.”
Planchet’s eyes lit up. “Is it another adventure?”
“The same one, actually.”
“That’s even better! The last one was brilliant.”
Dana managed to position herself down on the Promenade, as close as she could get to Conrad Su without being in Ro’s line of sight. She waited for her moment.
There was a commotion up on the balcony as Planchet pounced, making loud declarations about how her boss had sent these for Special Agent Cho, and she hoped she liked them, and oh! she was so sorry, she didn’t mean to get sugar all over her feet, and so on. It was a good distraction, involving flailing arms, pastry crumbs and at least three other passers-by, not even counting the crowd who stopped to watch the disaster.
Conrad Su glanced up, his head tilting as he took in the full extent of the scene being played out above him. Dana ran forward and grabbed his hand. She dragged him along with her until they reached a row of privacy booths, and shoved him inside an empty one.
He went willingly, if still confused. Once she had closed the door behind them, Dana peeked out through the view screen. The special agent was still wiping powdered sugar off her green flight suit, which made Dana think they had got away with it.
It was a small booth, so they were practically jammed together. Conrad had an odd sort of smile on his face. “This is unexpected,” he said. �
��You could have just called, if you wanted to see me.”
Dana shoved him hard in the chest, wanting to make that flirtatious look on his face disappear fast. “This isn’t a seduction!”
“Good,” he shot back, giving her a bit of a shove back, though his hand connected with her shoulder instead of her chest. “Because you’re terrible at it!”
“Your wife is working for the Cardinal,” she warned him.
Conrad groaned, and pulled his hand through his spiky blue hair again. He wasn’t going to have any left by the end of the day. “Yes, I’d worked that out for myself, cheers. I’m screwed, because I need someone to take the Prince’s letter to Valour. Someone who is completely trustworthy, and I’ve got nothing.”
Dana lifted her eyebrows at him.
Conrad’s eyes brightened. “Hey, you know the Musketeers. Which of them is the least likely to be in the pocket of the Cardinal?”
Dana blinked in astonishment. “None of them!”
“Oh, come on,” he said skeptically. “Everyone has their price, Dana.”
“You haven’t asked me mine.”
It was insulting, how astonished he looked. “You?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t trust me,” she scowled. “You gave me enough to sink the government ten times over, last week.”
“I know, but.” He hesitated. “You’re not even a Musketeer.”
“Oh thank you very much! Do you want your letter delivered or not?”
Conrad crossed his hands over his chest. “I don’t want to see you killed. You might have got away with that pantomime out there, but this is serious shit. People could end up dead for this letter.”
“Do you want to explain its contents to anyone else?” she hissed at him. “I know already, Conrad. It’s the coat, isn’t it?”
He slumped against the walls of the privacy booth. “That fucking coat. I can make a new one in time for the ball, but we daren’t risk trying to replace those studs. We could manage one or two, but the whole set? Too much could go wrong, and it’s obvious that they know, which makes it worse.”
“Is that why you didn’t give the letter to Dubois?” Dana asked in a low voice. “Or is it me you suspect?”
Conrad sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t think either of you are in with the Cardinal. For all we know, her goons wired the whole fucking mecha graveyard for sound. But Dubois already turned me down. She’s trying to fix things with her husband, and after her last trip to Valour she’s washing her hands of Alek and his – well, you know. Everything.”
“So trust me,” said Dana.
“You don’t have a ship. Or time – don’t you work for the mecha squad?”
“I can ask for leave.” Dana remembered what Athos had told her, not so long ago. No one is more loyal to the Crown or the Solar System or the Musketeers than Amiral Treville. “I can go to Amiral Treville, take her into our confidence.”
Conrad raised his eyebrows. “You have the ear of the Amiral?”
“If she agrees to help, I won’t be on my own. She could square my absence with Commandant Essart, and it – would be an official mission.”
It couldn’t hurt to show Treville the level of Dana’s commitment to the Crown and the Musketeers. For future reference.
“Fine,” Conrad said at last, with great reluctance. “If you can get Amiral Treville on side, I will trust you with the Prince Consort’s letter. But it has to be today, Dana.”
Dana nodded, and on impulse reached out and kissed him on the cheek. Conrad leaned into her for a moment as if he needed the physical contact. “To Valour and back, for a handful of diamond studs,” Dana said cheerfully, leaning all the way back so she wouldn’t be tempted to kiss him again. “Piece of cake.”
18
Kissing at Airlocks
This time around, Dana only had to wait an hour and a half before she was waved in through the plexi-glass doors to Treville’s office.
Treville dropped into the seat on one side of her sitting desk and waited for Dana to join her. “Timing is everything, kid. I just got off the subspace with Alix.”
“Mama?” said Dana in surprise. She had barely heard her mother’s voice in months. Subspace communication was an extravagance she could not afford. “Is everything all right back on Gascon Station?”
Treville shrugged one of her large, muscular shoulders. “It’s classified. But you’re family, so you might as well know. Your mother’s security team uncovered three Sun-kissed agents on Gascon, disguised as tourists. We believe there are more, among the miners down on Freedom.”
Dana shivered. “The Sun-kissed didn’t bother with Freedom or Gascon Station last time around.”
“And yet,” said Treville evenly. “So you catch me on the cliff edge of a crisis, young D’Artagnan. The old enemy are moving against us and they’re still too damned good at hiding in plain sight. Thank God and All for the vigilance shown by your mother and the Gascons. But what’s your news?”
Dana hesitated for only a moment, then straightened her back and met Treville’s gaze. If she didn’t have confidence in herself, how could she expect anyone else to believe in her? Even Conrad needed some persuasion, she thought sourly to herself. “I need you to authorise a mission to Valour.”
Treville’s face did not move. “Last I noticed, chicken, you weren’t working for me. Remember Commandant Essart? Appallingly chipper old duck, but good at her job.”
“This isn’t a Mecha Squad matter,” said Dana desperately. “It should have gone to a Musketeer, I know that. But – chance brought me into the path of a secret, and now I’m in the confidence of the Prince’s tailor, and they’ve said they will entrust me with a letter…”
“Hey,” said Treville, reaching out a surprisingly soft hand to grip Dana’s shoulder. “Breathe.”
Dana felt like a child. She had meant to be so cool. But she took the Amiral’s advice, sucking in a slow, deep breath and letting it out again.
“So,” said Treville, a moment later. “This is about the Prince Consort?”
“It’s a matter of great political and personal sensitivity to his Highness,” Dana said in a small voice. “He needs someone to take a letter secretly to Valour, and collect an item for him before the ball. They know I’m talking to you – I can tell you what the letter will contain.”
“No,” Treville said sharply. She stood up, pacing back and forth. “Keep your damned secret, D’Artagnan. If his Royal Highness needs this, that’s good enough for me. You’ll need backup.”
Dana nodded slowly. “And passage on the Calais, I thought?”
Treville looked amused. “You’re not negotiating for your own dart?”
Dana’s face felt hot. “I wouldn’t presume!”
Treville picked up a clamshell and tossed it from hand to hand before tapping notes into it. “I’ll need to arrange leave for you with Commandant Essart, and move the schedule around to release some Musketeers to accompany you. What do our three inseparables think about all this?”
Dana felt a stab of guilt. “They don’t know about it yet – about the mission. I came to you first. They know a little of the rest.”
“You know,” said Treville. “Porthos has been a bit off colour lately. Perhaps she needs some dirtside air to pick her up a bit. Aramis is well overdue for some personal leave, though I’m not going to admit that I’ve heard enough gossip around the traps to know she’s eating her heart out over some woman or other. And I’m sure Athos has picked up at least one duel-related injury this week.” Her mouth twitched, and she tapped a few more commands into her clamshell. “They could do with a holiday.”
It was an odd feeling for Dana, to be taken at her word. “You’re putting a great deal of faith in me,” she said finally.
“Yes, I am,” said Treville in a firm growl of a voice. She looked Dana up and down. “I like your initiative, D’Artagnan. Athos speaks well of you, and a week doesn’t go by without one of my gals bending my ear, hinting that you’re worthy of
service to this fleet of ours.”
Dana hadn’t known the other Musketeers were doing that. Part of her wanted the floor to open up and swallow her from embarrassment. But she wanted to grin stupidly, too. They believed in her.
“More to the point,” said Treville calmly. “You came to me first with this. You’re not so swept up in the romance of being a Musketeer that you dodge proper procedure, like some people I might mention. And…” She looked uncomfortable now. “What I’m going to say to you right now will not go out of this room. I don’t like what’s happening right now, on Luna Palais. I don’t like that her Eminence takes every damned chance she can to fuel tensions between the Regence and her husband. It’s a nasty business, and it undermines the stability we were promised with their alliance. If Prince Alek needs discretion, I’m going to give him my best people. Got it?”
“Got it,” said Dana, allowing the stupid grin to take over her face.
“So get the hell out of here, and take that letter where it needs to go. I’ll handle the rest.”
Stunned, Dana left the office. Next time the others raised a glass in honour of their precious Amiral Treville, she would be shouting along with them.
Dana went to Aramis’ place first. She had not seen her in a few days. Unusually, the android Bazin let her in immediately without first quizzing her on her recent religious observances, or whether she had wiped her feet.
“Captain-lieutenant Aramis will get dressed, if her friend is here,” he said with an unhappy trill, his metallic head tilting to one side.
Aramis lay on her couch with a large volume of theological poetry balanced on her stomach, and a towel over her eyes. Her hair, usually bound up in a topknot for duty, fell in a dark wave over the arm of the couch. “Bazin, shut up and make me coffee.”
“Captain-lieutenant Aramis did not attend church this morning,” Bazin said in his usual monotone, with a hiss against his words that made a bemused Dana think he was perhaps trying to whisper.
As Bazin trotted away to make coffee for them on the other side of the room, where the food printer was sandwiched between two bookcases, Dana sat on the edge of the couch near her friend. She reached out gently and took the towel off her face. “Are you drunk?”
Musketeer Space Page 17