Musketeer Space

by Tansy Rayner Roberts

  “Interesting,” said Treville. “Tell me again why I am against the scheme if it means more ships on our side?”

  “Because,” said Athos. “What the Cardinal does not know is that her agent poses a terrible danger to the Crown and the Solar System. He cannot be trusted to follow her agenda, or to do anything that is in the interests of humankind.”

  Treville finished her slice of the chocolate and cherries thing, and started on the orange and honey cake. “You think de Winter is a spy for the enemy?”

  “He is a Sun-kissed,” Dana blurted, and then drew her eyes back down to her cake. “We know that much.”

  “We know more than that,” said Athos, throwing a sympathetic glance at Dana, though the kid didn’t look up in time to see it. “Milord has infiltrated the Valour government, rising to a high position. He has acted directly against Crown and Solar System, and – I believe, is wanted for acts of terrorism in Paris last year.”

  Porthos almost swallowed her cake fork. “The Joyeux attacks? Athos, are you serious?”

  “I knew it when I looked into his eyes tonight,” Athos said calmly, as if he was not talking about a man he had once loved and married. “We know he goes by pseudonyms like Slate and Winter in the course of his work – and the suspect we arrested for those crimes called himself Gray. I thought at the time there was something familiar about him, but could never quite place it… and, you might remember, he escaped prison custody after faking his own death. A favourite trick.” There was the bitterness Porthos had been waiting to hear, some hint that yes, this was personal for Athos.

  She had worried that Athos was compartmentalising the situation a little too effectively. Now she had whole new things to worry about.

  “You want us to thwart Milord in this scheme, hoping that the Cardinal will drop her protection of him, and we can bring him into custody permanently,” Dana said softly, lifting her face to Athos as if the two of them were the only ones in the room. “Save the Duchess of Buckingham, catch the spy.”

  “And convince Buckingham to lead the New Aristocrats of Valour into this war,” Athos added. “That’s the carrot for you, boss. We’ll follow the Cardinal’s wishes and bring you ships of Valour to help with the siege – and we’ll do it without assassinating anyone.”

  “An alien spy and a flotilla of imaginary ships,” said Treville. “Is it my birthday, Athos?”

  “We did bring cake,” he said hopefully.

  The Amiral nodded. “And does anyone wish to tell me why this de Winter – who, regardless of the Cardinal’s protection, is a high-ranking New Aristocrat official of the Valour government and thus has considerable resources of his own – is of any interest to my Musketeers? How can you be so sure that he is a Sun-kissed spy, and why does it matter so damned much to you that he be stopped?”

  Athos stopped pacing near Dana, and stared at Treville as if she had shot a puppy in front of him.

  “Milord personally requested to be freed from the legal consequences of murdering D’Artagnan as a reward for his work,” he said quietly. “He holds a grudge.”

  Treville gave him a thin smile. “That sounds like the end of a story, Captain Athos, not the beginning.”

  Dana took a deep breath, ready to take over her part of the conversation. “I should probably explain about Conrad Su…”

  “No,” Athos said, his hand briefly brushing her shoulder. “No, shut up, D’Artagnan, it’s okay. It’s time she knew all of it.” He glanced at Porthos with a silent entreaty.

  “Come on, you two,” Porthos said brightly. “Let’s go take a turn about the deck and see how many aliens are shooting at the Bastion right now. It will be fun.” She hooked one arm around Aramis’s elbow and collected Dana on the way out, leaving Athos and Treville facing each other down across a cake-strewn meeting table.

  “So,” said Athos, as the door spiralled open to let his friends out of what Porthos was already mentally dubbing The Embarrassment Zone. “Fun story, boss. I used to be married…”

  After twenty minutes or so loitering outside Treville’s door, Dana D’Artagnan was making herself sick with worry. Or possibly she had eaten too much cake. “She won’t actually kill him and ditch the body out an airlock, will she?”

  “If she was ever going to do that to Athos, it would have been when he grew the beard,” Porthos assured her.

  “He’s her favourite,” said Aramis gravely.

  Porthos had literally bet on Athos in the ‘Musketeer most likely to be murdered by our boss’ sweepstake, but she wasn’t going to argue with either of them.

  When Athos finally emerged, he looked wrecked, as if Treville had beaten him around the head with her office furniture. He had lost all of the manic picnic energy that he had used to fuel their flight here.

  “So?” asked Aramis. “Are we riding into the sunset to rescue you-know-who and arrest that-other-fellow?”

  “Subtle,” Porthos complimented her.

  “I thought so,” Aramis preened.

  “No,” said Athos in a rough voice. “No, we’re not.” He looked directly at Dana, as if this was only the start of the terrible news he had to break to her. “Treville’s not letting us go, and I can’t change her mind.”

  49

  I Just Called To Say I’m Grounded

  The four of them hustled off the bridge and along a series of grey corridors on the Bastion, which mostly went around in circles. Dana suspected they weren’t heading anywhere in particular, but that Athos was moving for the sake of not punching walls.

  “She wouldn’t let us go after Buckingham?” Porthos asked.

  Athos growled under his breath. “Need somewhere we won’t be overheard. In here.” He lurched them into a storage space that turned out to be more of a cupboard than a room, full of humming printers.

  “Is it me?” Dana asked. “She wants me to go back to my duties on the Frenzy Kenzie?”

  “No, you’re definitely off that detail,” said Athos with a vague wave of his hand. “Porthos and Aramis are to return to their own ships in the armoured shuttle after the next ceasefire. But you and me, Dana, we’re assigned to the Bastion for the foreseeable future.”

  Aramis and Porthos stared at Athos with wide, startled eyes. “Athos, what did you say to her?” Aramis asked in alarm.

  “The truth,” he said impatiently.

  Dana swallowed hard. “How much of the truth?”

  “Pretty much all of it. I was trying for honesty points.” Athos looked weary.

  “And how did that work out for you?” asked Porthos.

  Athos winced visibly. “I made a major miscalculation. Two miscalculations, but at least one of them was based on information I didn’t even have at the time.”

  Aramis leaned into Athos, one hand stroking his hair. “Breathe, darling, and try to talk at human speed for the sake of us mortals. What’s the problem?”

  Athos calmed down at Aramis’ touch. “Our problem is that Treville doesn’t give a fuck about whether the Duchess of Buckingham lives or dies. She thinks the Cardinal’s plan to squeeze more ships out of Valour is stupid and won’t work, but she’s not willing to let all four of us scupper it.”

  “But she knows now about Milord,” Dana burst out. “Surely she must understand how important it is to discredit him in the eyes of the Cardinal…”

  “… And get him out of play,” Porthos added grimly.

  “Yes,” said Athos. He looked miserable. That couldn’t be good. “She does understand that. But Treville has her own priorities. It turns out that the Sun-kissed have made diplomatic overtures. In twelve hours, the Regence will be communicating directly with whoever is in charge of all those shape-shifting red blobs in their shape-shifting grey teardrop ships, and we get to find out if there’s anyone still alive down on Truth.”

  Aramis’ hand stopped stroking Athos’ hair. “Oh,” she said in a whisper. “I can see how that is more important than an assassination attempt on Valour.”

  “But that has noth
ing to do with us,” repeated Dana. “Not directly, at least. Right?” She was still trying to get her head around the part where she had been released from her duties on the supplies transport. Why?

  Athos gave Dana an apologetic look. “The problem is – the other problem, on a very long list of problems – is that I just revealed to Treville that you and I have both had recent personal experience with a Sun-kissed spy. So she wants to keep us here on the Bastion, in order to answer all the intrusive and embarrassing questions that may or may not come up during the negotiations with the Sun-kissed.”

  Dana let her head fall back against the nearest printer with a thunk.

  “You know,” Porthos said after a moment of long and awkward silence. “I always thought if one of us ended up entangled in a highly political and sensitive alien sex scandal, it would be Aramis.”

  Dana kicked her in the ankle.

  “What now?” Aramis asked, her fingers continuing to scratch lightly at Athos’ scalp. “How long before Porthos and I have to be back on regular duty?”

  “Two hours until the next shuttle back to Chaillot Station,” said Athos. “Which gives us a short window in which to save the Duchess of Buckingham’s life and screw over Milord de Winter without leaving the war zone. Any suggestions?”

  “Chevreuse, obviously,” said Aramis.

  “Yes,” said Athos. “She can warn Buck, at least. Maybe send support, though we’re going to need someone on the ground. Who do we know on Valour?”

  “The Countess of Clarick,” said Dana thoughtfully.

  That took Athos aback. “You mean the one with all the New Aristocrat wanker friends we had the duel against?”

  “She’s Milord’s sister-in-law. She’s crazy loyal about her family, but – I don’t know if she’d still be on his side if she knew the truth about what he is and where he comes from.”

  “Devious,” Athos said admiringly. “I like it. There’s also the embarrassing possibility that I’m still married to the bastard, which means I get to have a delightful conversation with her about breach of contract and bigamy. Porthos. Got any convenient boyfriends in positions of power, influence or really sharp swords anywhere on Valour who could get to Buck before Milord does?”

  “My boyfriends tend to be conveniently located around Paris,” said Porthos. “Not that it’s not still faster to get to Valour from Paris than from here. But…” She looked at Aramis, who rolled her eyes and groaned with genuine pain.

  “No.”

  “It’s not a bad idea.”

  “It’s a terrible idea.”

  “Well, if you will go having affairs with married women who storm off to become important people on other planets...”

  “But she hates me.”

  “We’re not talking about Chevreuse again, are we?” asked Athos, frowning.

  “Felton,” sighed Aramis. “We’re talking about Jan Felton. Who quit the Red Hammers to take up a position as a Planetary Marshal on Castillion, two years ago.”

  Athos blinked again. “But Jan Felton hates you.”

  “She hates me so much,” Aramis agreed.

  “We’ll bring her in. Can’t afford to be choosy. Comms centre, let’s get messaging.” Athos made a shooing motion, and pushed Aramis and Porthos out of the printer cupboard. He glanced back briefly over his shoulder at Dana as he went. “Oh, and we have to call D’Artagnan’s mother. Add that to the list.”

  Dana was startled. “Mama? Why?”

  Athos waved his hand airily. “Treville finally promoted you to Captain-lieutenant, as a Musketeer. Mothers like to know that sort of thing.”

  Aramis and Porthos crowed with delight. Athos grabbed each of them by the neck and propelled them along the corridor, leaving Dana gaping on her own in a cupboard full of printers.

  “What,” was all she could think of to say. “No, really. What?”

  The Saint-Gervais, AKA the Bastion, had many facilities and resources not enjoyed by standard Fleet ships – not only the impregnable shielding and a complete inability to use offensive weaponry, but also a state-of-the-art comms centre.

  Athos had been right to bring them here. The Bastion was designed to be the final hold-out for high-ranking personnel, and not only boasted a good range of highly secured military frequencies (the lines of communications that made jump engines feasible) but the luxury of privacy booths and access to those same securities for personal calls.

  Aramis and Porthos stayed long enough for Aramis to make discreet calls to Chevreuse, and to Marshal Felton. They had to leave after that, queuing for the shuttle back to Chaillot Station so they could return to their ships and the Fleet.

  Dana knew that it was less dangerous for Aramis and Porthos to fly back on the official shuttle than it had been with Athos in the Pistachio, dodging and weaving the laser blasts from the Sun-kissed on their way here, but it felt worse somehow, whenever the four of them were separated.

  Not Dana and her three Musketeers. They were the four Musketeers now. It would take her a while to get used to that idea.

  Athos was now enclosed in one of the privacy booths, continuing a long and possibly painful conversation with Bianca de Winter, the Countess of Clarick. Dana had squeezed in there with him long enough to make the introductions – should Bee fail to recognise the man who had so effortlessly kebabbed one of her friends with a rapier-length pilot’s slice back on Paris Satellite – but she withdrew once Athos began telling his story.

  Dana was proud of him. He had concealed his true identity for so long, keeping Athos the Musketeer as far as possible from the troubled and officially deceased Comte de la Fere. Now it was all spilling out, for the sake of Crown and Solar System and the life of the Duchess of Buckingham.

  What would Athos do without that layer of secrets?

  They had attempted to get a call directly through to Villiers House, where the Duchess of Buckingham lived. According to the app Planchet had made for Dana a million years ago, which gathered all of Buck’s appearances on the Gossipnode, the athletic duchess had become a digital hermit in recent weeks. There was no hint that she had stepped outside her home in days. So why wouldn’t she accept the call? They kept trying.

  Perhaps Chevreuse would have better luck.

  Dana leaned back against the smooth, white curve of the privacy booth wall, wondering if Athos was done with his call yet, and whether Bee would prove to be an ally. They had decided to tell her the truth –it wasn’t like Athos had not already tipped Milord off that they knew his plans.

  At least – and it was a small thing to be grateful for – Milord no longer had that sealed stud from the Cardinal, promising amnesty for any crime he cared to commit. Dana had been trying very hard not to think about the fact that Milord wanted her death as a personal reward.

  Worst rebound fling ever.

  She hit the call key again and watched a still image of Villiers House, in the duchy of Buckingham, on the continent of Castillion, on the planet Valour, fill the screen as she waited for the signal to tell her that the call had not been accepted.

  This time, the screen flickered and gave way to a friendly amber-brown face with gold scales running down the edge of his face and neck, and blue-tipped spiky black hair.

  Goddamn, she had forgotten how beautiful Conrad Su was. He wore loose practice gear, caught him in the middle of laughing at someone else’s joke. “Villiers House,” he said, and did a double take at the screen. “Holy shit.”

  “Hey,” said Dana, laughing at him. “Miss me?”

  “Always,” Conrad said, recovering a little of his usual swagger. “How did you even know I was hiding out here?”

  “I didn’t. I called for Buck.”

  “Now I am disappointed.” Conrad pulled an expression that made her want to reach through the screen and smack him, or possibly kiss his face off.

  Yeah, who was she even kidding with those options.

  “I’m being serious,” she told him sternly. “Has anything unusual happened lately?”r />
  “Buck keeps to herself. I’ve hardly managed to get her to joust with me at all, though she has a kickass zero-G practice tank in her back garden. Luckily she hires security guards who like their sport, so I can usually find someone off duty to play with me. Keeps me from going completely stir crazy.”

  Dana grazed her lower lip with her teeth. “No security issues?”

  “We’ve had word from the local Marshal to be on alert, and we’ve stepped up house and perimeter patrols,” said Conrad, his face losing some of its customary humour. “You had something to do with that?”

  Felton was on it, after being alerted by Aramis to the situation. That was good to know.

  “There’s been an assassination threat,” said Dana. She hesitated to say it out loud, but these comm lines were the best they were likely to ever have access to, and it wasn’t as if they wanted it to be a state secret. Still, part of her felt that if she said the name out loud, then Conrad would figure out everything – her stupid behaviour around Milord, for a start – and she hadn’t realised until now that she really, really did not want him to know what an idiot she had been.

  Huh. Something to emotionally unpack at some point. But not right now.

  “A threat to Buck?” Conrad asked, switching quickly from flirtatious to businesslike.

  “Given your history with the assassin in question, you’re both at risk.”

  “Ah,” Conrad sighed, tilting his head tiredly to one side. “Our silver-haired friend?”

  “He doesn’t always look the same,” said Dana. “He could look like anyone, Conrad.”

  The tailor whistled beneath his breath. “I’ve heard of tech like that.”

  “So have I,” Dana said pointedly. “But he doesn’t have to use it.”

  His expression froze over as her meaning got across. There was only one known race that could change their faces as easily as their clothes, and the Solar System were currently at war with them.