Conviction (Scattered Stars: Conviction Book 1)

by Glynn Stewart

  36

  The four Founders’ Towers weren’t large enough to earn the key mark of a gold-standard top-tier development on Apollo: none of them had a shuttlepad on the roof. The complex had a shuttlepad behind the towers, shielded from weather by a flank of the mountain the city was named for, and Kira tucked the spacecraft into the pad with delicate ease.

  The Towers were…well, they were small and quaint, if she was going to be honest, but the grounds were decorative enough. The four buildings were spread out across several acres of neat paths and carefully managed gardens.

  Kira’s own tastes ran more toward untamed forests and wild moors, but she’d grown up in a village of shepherds on Apollo. The sheep might have been genetically engineered to shed three times in a standard year, and the herding might have been done as much by drone as by dog or staff, but sheep still flourished on much the same kind of terrain they always had.

  This kind of manicured setup made her look for the concealed weapons systems.

  The Founders’ Towers weren’t quite up to that standard of “luxury,” but they were still acceptably ridiculous. A transfer drone contentedly moved the shuttle Estanza had lent her into a stacked parking garage of similar vehicles. Holographic signs discreetly directed her to the correct tower, where doors carved from the local stone slid silently aside to let them in.

  The doors showed a bit of wear on the outside, easily missed as they slid open, and that seemed to be the tone that Kira was picking up. The Towers were very well maintained, but they were also old.

  Her headware happily confirmed that the complex had been among the first few luxury developments on the planet. For it to still hold itself among the top ten was impressive.

  The security was slightly less so, though at least there was security once she entered the lobby of the tower. Her experienced eye picked out concealed sensors and what were probably closets holding security bots.

  It even took her a moment to realize that the attractive young male receptionist was a holographic artificial stupid rather than a real human. The projection was as good as any she’d seen in Apollo and, she suspected, had cost an arm and a leg out there in Redward.

  “Em Demirci,” the hologram greeted her as she arrived. “We weren’t informed that you would be coming home today, but our records show that both the cleaners and security team were through your apartment yesterday.

  “While we don’t have access to your food-storage system, we project it highly unlikely that you have foodstocks on hand. Would you like us to arrange a chef service for your dinner this evening?”

  Kira managed to not tell the computer to go to hell.

  “I’ll be fine,” she told it. “If you could forward a list of recommended delivery services, that would be appreciated.”

  “Of course, Em Demirci,” the image replied. “Should we advise your cleaning and security teams of additional services required?”

  Kira took a moment to check what level of service she was currently getting. Once-a-week cleaning and security sweeps for an empty apartment?! No wonder the place was eating half a million kroner a year!

  “The regular service should suffice,” she murmured. She was going to have to take a closer look at just what services the apartment was using. The security sweep was probably necessary, but she wasn’t sure an empty apartment needed the toilets scrubbed every week.

  “Of course. Reginald Forsythe Tower’s staff and artificials are ready to assist you with anything you need, Em Demirci.”

  She shook her head.

  “Right now, I need an elevator to my apartment,” she told the AI.

  “Of course,” the hologram said cheerfully. “If you step to your left and circle around the mermaid fountain, you will see the express penthouse elevator and the security panel there. Provide your keycode to our systems and you will have access to your unit.”

  “You should get used to the finer things in life.”

  That was what Jay Moranis had told Kira almost every single time she’d stayed at his sprawling manor estate on Apollo. Usually while plying her and the other squadron commanders with wine that cost far too much.

  In hindsight, Kira should probably have wondered where the old man’s money had come from—and why a man with that much money spent his time flying a nova fighter instead of sitting on his estate, drinking retsina.

  Even from beyond the grave, it seemed he’d found a way to make one final argument in his case on converting Kira from the shepherd peasant’s daughter she still semi-identified as.

  The penthouse was, at least, not the entire upper floor of the building. It was one unit of four that divided the top two floors between them. The exterior walls were entirely transparent aluminum, armored against light blaster cannon fire, according to the brochure she’d finally extracted from Simoneit’s files.

  There were five bedrooms in the penthouse. Somewhere. Kira couldn’t see any sign of them as she stepped out into the main living area, staring at the immediately visible view out over the city of Red Mountain. The bedrooms were probably upstairs, in the loft that covered half of the open living area.

  A sprawling kitchen—fit for the chef the stupid had wanted to send her—filled one corner. An elegant-but-functional dining room table that could seat sixteen marked another. A third corner had a similarly plain sitting room setup, and the fourth was simply empty, a massive expanse of local hardwoods.

  “Jay came from money and brought it with him,” Estanza told her as he surveyed the apartment next to her. “He spent most of his life on starships or in nova fighters, but everywhere he laid down an anchor, it looked like this.

  “And the Equilibrium Institute paid well—even before you factored in what being legendary mercenaries made us. I bought a carrier with what I stashed away on my way out,” he noted, then shrugged with a laugh.

  “And a few other things I acquired afterward. But still. Compared to what I spent on Conviction, this is nothing. Or so Jay pointed out when I challenged him on his ‘little luxuries’ after buying her, anyway.”

  Kira laughed softly. For all of the scale of the space, even she could tell it was plainly decorated for its nature. There was no art, simply the native stone and wood paneling of the walls. The empty parts of the main space could have held another three sitting or entertainment areas.

  Shaking her head, she checked the cupboards and storage. Like the hologram had predicted, there was no food. There was a neatly organized set of dishes and utensils to feed sixteen people, plus a set of cooking gear well beyond her skills.

  “We have to stay here at least tonight to make it look good, I suspect,” she told Estanza. “Go confirm that there are actual beds in this place for me, would you? I’m going to look at that delivery menu.”

  He coughed delicately.

  “You may want to take the Tower staff up on that chef,” he told her. “I’ve confirmed with my guests and they’re heading in this direction. They’ll be here around dinnertime, and much as I think he’d find it hilarious, I don’t want to feed the King of Redward takeout.”

  Kira stopped in mid-thought to round on her Captain.

  “The King,” she snapped. “Are you serious?”

  “King Larry, also known as King Lawrence Bartholomew Stewart, His Royal Majesty, First Magistrate and Honored King of the Kingdom of Redward.”

  Estanza smiled.

  “I could meet Admirals on Blueward Station,” he told her. “They have reasons to be in space. King Larry doesn’t. He only leaves the planet with multiple destroyers in escort. There’s no subtle movement for the king of a star system, not once you leave his capital.”

  “But in his capital?”

  “He can move covertly with only a handful of bodyguards,” the Captain confirmed. “And the staff at the Founders’ Towers are very cleared. The chef can be trusted.”

  “More than the takeout place, I assume,” Kira conceded with a sigh. “All right. I’ll make the call.”

  37

>   Kira had seen his picture in a hundred places since arriving in the Redward System, yet it was still a shock to meet King Larry in person and realize just how much he looked like the kind of man who would go by “King Larry.”

  The system’s monarch was the fifth person to enter the apartment, which made him the first after the security detail. Almost two meters tall with shoulder-length hair, he wore a dark green suit that had clearly been tailored not to hide his girth. He had the smile lines of a man who smiled easily and often, and laughed just as readily—and the stress lines of a man responsible for three billion souls.

  Large and cheery as he was, there was also a presence to the man that drew the eye. It took Kira a few seconds to even realize that the King was wearing a crown—a simple gold circlet that rested at the top of a flushed high forehead.

  “Kitchen shutters are down,” the guard reported as King Larry entered. Kira hadn’t even realized that the kitchen had walls that could come down to conceal staff if needed, but there they were. “We’ve engaged the security field. One of the team is talking to the chef, but he already passed the background check a few months back.”

  There was a smile in the man’s voice as he continued.

  “Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes, sir.”

  Kira didn’t put a lot of stock on royalty—for all that Apollo was explicitly an oligarchy with a restricted franchise, her people didn’t really believe that kings and queens had been good for humanity. It was still rather flustering to find herself in a room with a monarch.

  She’d never even been in the same room as one of Apollo’s Principals, the elected councilors who ruled her homeworld, after all.

  Estanza, on the other hand, seemed to take everything in stride. He stepped forward with a small bow to exchange a handshake with the King, then gestured to Kira.

  “King Larry, this is Commander Kira Demirci,” he introduced her. “She commands Memorial Squadron, who I’ve subcontracted to work for me, and is also my new Commander, Nova Group.”

  “A pleasure, Commander,” Larry told her as he offered her his hand. He was clearly used to people being a bit taken aback by him.

  “I heard about Commander Mbeki,” he continued. “I know you and he were close, Captain Estanza. You have my condolences.”

  Kira had heard a lot of politicians give condolences over the years. King Larry was one of the few who seemed to actually mean it.

  More people were coming through in the King’s wake, and it spoke to the sheer presence of Redward’s monarch that Kira had failed to notice the arrival of three Admirals.

  The two women and the man trailing behind King Larry all had stars on their collars. One woman had three; the other woman and the man both had two. Admiral and Vice Admiral, if Kira remembered her briefings on Redward’s fleet correctly.

  “Please, let’s get everyone inside,” the senior bodyguard told them all. “Team two is holding the lift, but the neighbors are important enough I hesitate to cause trouble, sir.”

  “They can wait a few minutes for an elevator,” Larry replied dryly. “Even CEOs can afford to lose time, Richard.”

  Despite his argument, however, Larry ushered the three flag officers forward to clear the entryway.

  “The table will work best,” Kira suggested, not quite sure how to handle the mix of both being the host and being the most junior person actually involved in the discussion.

  “Agreed.” Larry led the way, indicating each of his companions as they passed by. “Captain Estanza knows everyone here, but Commander Demirci doesn’t. This is Admiral Vilma Remington, the senior officer of the Royal Fleet, along with Vice Admirals Ylva Kim and Shi Abreu.”

  Both of the Vice Admirals were carrier group commanders, in charge of the freighters the Royal Fleet had converted to deploy sublight fighters. Those carrier groups also came with real, if small, cruisers as well as smaller ships. The strike forces that reported to each of them might be a joke by Apollon standards, but they represented real firepower out here.

  “Most important of all is this introduction,” King Larry continued, gesturing to the woman in a long black dress who’d just entered the apartment with the second security team. She matched the King in height but was gaunt to his cheerful bulk.

  “Sonia is my wife. She is the most decorative Queen my system has ever had, runs the charitable efforts of the Crown with an amazingly deft hand and, most relevant to today, runs my Office of Integration.”

  She stepped up beside him and kissed his cheek.

  “It’s a tiny, intentionally misnamed office,” she told Kira. “My team’s job is to take all of the information that comes in from both civilian and military intelligence and create a complete intelligence picture that goes back down to both teams.

  “We try and catch the gaps in each group’s expertise while avoiding territorial pissing matches.” She waved a long hand delicately. “We do not always succeed, but it helps to have someone no one expects running the intelligence apparatus. I would say someone out of the public eye, but my public role is very public.”

  “I forwarded you all of the data I extracted on our Warlord Deceiver,” Estanza told her. “I hope it made its way through the appropriate channels.”

  “It did,” the Queen confirmed as she took a seat next to her husband. “Larry didn’t break the evening free without asking me what I thought of your assessment of the situation.”

  “And?” Estanza asked bluntly.

  “We now believe that you are correct,” Admiral Remington said, equally bluntly. “Someone is supplying Davies with tech and funds to allow him to expand his forces. He has become a drastically expanded threat and one that must be neutralized.”

  “We will need to locate him first,” King Larry pointed out. “I can’t afford to send any of you off on a wild goose chase.”

  “There will be no wild geese,” Sonia told her husband and the officers. “Please, let’s get everyone seated and then I can go over what I’ve assembled from our intelligence and Captain Estanza’s.”

  “Cleared as the chef is and solid as those shutters are, we’re probably better off continuing this conversation after the food is served and he has gone on his way,” Larry agreed.

  Kira was reasonably sure that the chef had been expecting to serve the meal he’d plated up himself, but the security team took over that task. The polite young man was ushered out of the apartment by equally polite armed young men who promised to handle the dishes.

  Once the door closed behind him, Kira checked her security system and flicked the status update over to the King’s senior bodyguard.

  “The system report probably makes more sense to you,” she told the man with a chuckle.

  “Probably,” he confirmed. “Toews, check the third bedroom upstairs. The Tower system is blocked but the apartment system is still picking up a radio signal.”

  The suited guard turned to the table.

  “I think we do have a small bug,” he told them. “Give my team a moment and we’ll have it neutralized.” He cocked his head, listening to a voice no one else heard. “It wasn’t transmitting before. It seems that your prior conversation hit the keywords for an emergency message.”

  “The overwatch should have intercepted it even if we didn’t block it,” the Queen said quietly. “We’ll trace it. That was part of why I wanted to wait, too. Just in case.”

  The guard nodded to her.

  “We’ve found and neutralized the device and two more,” he reported. “Your Majesties, you may want to take a look at this.”

  An image appeared above the table as the security man linked to the apartment’s holoprojectors.

  There was nothing in particular that stood out to Kira about the zoomed-in image of the electronic device.

  “Solid-state molecular-circuitry device,” the officer noted. “We couldn’t build that bug, Your Majesties. No one in the Cluster could. That’s Meridian tech, at least.”

  Kira exchanged a glance with Estanz
a as a chill ran down her spine. From what he’d explained, there was definitely someone out there who would have wanted to bug Jay Moranis’s emergency bolt-hole.

  “How long as it been there?” Queen Sonia asked.

  “Hard to say exactly, but definitely months, not days,” the nameless security man confirmed. “It wasn’t placed to intercept this meeting.”

  “Do another sweep,” King Larry ordered grimly. “Push your scanners to their limits, Captain. If there’s three Meridian-tech bugs…”

  “There are more,” the man confirmed. “I suggest you refrain from discussing business until after dinner, Your Majesty. We should be certain by then.”

  The Tower, it seemed, had known enough about either Jay Moranis or Kira herself to have arranged a meal plan that at least resembled Apollon cuisine.

  Of course, since Apollo was a long way from Redward, the standard of cuisine they were trying to follow was a vaguely remembered passed-on stereotype. Dolmades were quintessentially Old Earth Greek, so Kira could see the thought there, but the stuffed vine leaves had never been an Apollon staple.

  The roasted lamb with mint sauce was far closer to Apollo standards, the chef having done a surprisingly good job with a dish that Kira had grown up on.

  Her father’s lamb had been better, but that was to be expected. Her parents had been shepherds, even if their village had been on hills with an excellent view of Apollo’s largest spaceport.

  At a table with three Admirals and the royal couple of an entire star system, she had no idea what to contribute to the conversation and ate in near-silence until she was done.

  She was spared trying to think of social conversation by the return of the senior bodyguard.

  “I don’t know who you pissed off, Commander Demirci,” the bodyguard told her with a soft chuckle. “But I want their resources. We only found four more bugs, but they were all well beyond anything we could build. Seven molecular-circuitry listening devices.”