by Aleks Canard
‘Don’t worry, Trix. I’ll tell him you said goodbye.’
‘Has he had too much to drink?’
‘I think he was just so excited that he tired himself out,’ said Aetta, stroking Andy’s ginger hair. ‘He couldn’t stop talking about you all night, you know. How wonderful it was to see you so happy.’
‘I’m not sad,’ Trix said.
‘I suppose it’s because he usually only sees you when you’re working,’ Aetta said, taking care to whisper.
‘Speaking of that, thank you for your help with the Ice Exiles.’
‘Oh, we didn’t do much,’ Aetta said, gently shrugging to show her research had been no big deal. ‘Bright stars and clear skies, Trix. You too, Sire.’
‘May they shine brighter for you,’ Trix said.
Altayr nodded. ‘And this late in the evening, in fact, any time at all, call me Altayr.’
Aetta smiled. ‘Very well, Altayr.’ She waved the duo goodbye and rested beside Andy. She would fall asleep as well before too long. She and Andy had no honeymoon planned. They hadn’t been able to take time off work. That didn’t matter. As far as Andy was concerned, every day with Aetta was a honeymoon.
Trix and Altayr walked hand in hand back to the Fox.
Dark’s Hide was waiting.
Favours
1
A blue dress fell to the floor.
Robes followed. Trix slammed Altayr up against the wall, rising to his height using her magic. Her lips met his. Altayr flipped her around. Picked her up. Squeezed her thighs. Teleported them to the bed. They had sex. Arrived at Dark’s Hide before they knew it. Sif was bringing the Fox into Nadira Vega’s private hangar.
Altayr kissed Trix’s neck. She slid her hands around his waist. For whatever reason, the sorcerer was ticklish there. He smiled against Trix’s neck. Began moving down her body.
‘Ahem,’ Sif said over the intercom. ‘Not that I’m watching you two, which I’m not, but we’re coming up on Dark’s Hide. You might want to put clothes on. Or a towel. Anything really. Nadira Vega’s hardly coy.’
‘A pity you can’t stop time,’ Trix said, giving Altayr a final kiss.
‘I thought we just did.’
‘When the woman’s already naked, the only flattery you should be delivering is non-verbal.’
‘If I had any fluids to throw up, I would,’ Sif said.
Altayr got off the bed. His clothes rushed to encase his body in less than five seconds, Altayr was dressed in his travelling attire. All he was missing was his boots.
Trix stretched out on the bed. Her fingers played with her choker. It thrummed with reassuring magic. She lifted herself off the bed with altered gravity. Trix dressed herself the old-fashioned way. Her armour felt heavy after wearing a dress. Though she’d already forgotten about it within a minute.
The duo went downstairs to wait in the cargo bay as Sif brought the Fox in front of Nadira’s dock. The concealed asteroid door opened. The Fox landed inside.
Nadira Vega was nowhere to be seen. Dahos Mardulen waited in her stead.
He smiled warmly as Trix descended the loading ramp. His eyes were watchful. Colder than a Raursioc winter. More perilous than a mountain pass. Dahos wasn’t your average manservant.
‘Trix of Zilvia, Altayr Van Eldric. Welcome. A pleasure to see you again, huntress, especially in circumstances infinitely more favourable than the last time you were here.’
‘You don’t seem surprised that I brought company.’
‘Nadira Vega’s business is not being surprised if she can help it. Come, she’s waiting for you.’
‘The way Nadira spoke, I would’ve thought this matter was important enough to warrant her attention.’
‘Por wyrs, huntress. But Duchess Vega couldn’t afford to wait for you when your arrival time was uncertain.’
‘Tending affairs of a carnal nature?’ Trix raised an eyebrow.
‘You know, huntress, you are the only person who could make that joke with Duchess Vega and not have a target carved onto your forehead.’
‘I would’ve thought Nadira could afford a sense of humour.’
‘How else do you expect her to appreciate your wit? Just because she has one is no guarantee she will use it, even with you, Trix. I suggest you keep that in mind.’
‘You seem tense, Dahos. In fact, I know you are. Your heart’s beating quicker than normal.’
‘There are currently a lot of cards on the table, and many more in people’s hands. Do you play the game of Faet, machina?’
‘No.’
‘But you know of it. You must. Everyone does. This situation is no different to a game of Faet. Both opponents have won a round. The air is thick. Decoys are played one after the other. Neither side flinching.’
‘You can stop with the poetic license, Dahos. I think you worry too much. Nadira was in a fine mood when she called.’
‘Duchess Vega wouldn’t let her enemies see her stressed even if a gun was pressed to her back and a knife was against her throat.’
‘And what about business partners?’
‘Are they not one of the same?’
‘Only if you run a poor business.’
‘A business without enemies is not worth running.’
Dahos led the duo through the door which led to Nadira’s Emporium, a shop for buying rare goods where gemstones and other precious materials were the only accepted currency. However, Nadira’s most valuable wares were not stored in glass cases or behind cages, but within her skull.
Regardless of the time, information was the currency of the realm. The right information could grant the right leverage. And with the right leverage, you could move mountains.
Trix and Altayr walked upstairs. Dahos opened a door and stepped inside. Nadira illuminated her office with zirean up-lighting. She found the shadows flattered her figure, and the candle-like luminance made exchanges intimate. It was amazing what people revealed during intimacy.
Since procuring Dark’s Hide for herself she tended to hold her meetings in Nightshade. Only idiots believed places of total silence were the best for shady dealings. Silent places could be monitored far easier than bustling ones. Good luck getting any decent video footage in Nightshade. The strobe lights concealed more than closed doors could.
Dahos checked his comms gauntlet with a glance. His face remained composed, cunning. His thumping heart gave him away.
‘Duchess Vega says you’re to meet her upstairs.’
‘It’s not like her to play games.’
‘She is always playing games, of all different kinds. If you don’t know she’s playing a game with you, it means she’s doing her job.’
‘I’ve had about enough of games for one year,’ Trix said. She saw Dheizir Crohl grinning at her in the shadows. His arctic blue eyes stabbing her through the gut, making ice snap freeze her spine.
Dhaos ushered Trix and Altayr into Nadira’s private elevator. He followed them.
Trix didn’t know it, but the game had begun.
2
The machina stepped into a forest.
She wondered if Dahos had gassed her somehow, or injected her with a hallucinogen. Metallic undertones and manufactured filth assured her she was still on Dark’s Hide. Of all the places she’d been, Trix had never smelled anything as specific as the concoction of odours that culminated in the galaxy’s premier black market outpost.
‘There’s magic in these trees,’ Altayr said. His staff pulsed in agreement.
‘No expense was spared to create a space where the Duchess could feel at ease. Immense power, like good business, comes with enemies.’
‘And are the enemies worth the trouble?’ Trix said.
‘Enemies create competition which breeds better business. Arms dealers rarely thrive in times of peace. And the one which we have enjoyed since the anghenfil were beaten is coming to an end.’
‘Is that what this favour is about?’
‘Duchess Vega would never seek to unhinge
the galaxy.’
‘But she would have someone do it for her.’
‘I expect that’s why she likes you so much, huntress. Your bluntness is ironic considering the sharpness of your wit.’
‘What makes you say the time of peace is coming to an end?’ Altayr said.
‘The same that makes you think it, sorcerer,’ Dahos said. ‘I can see in your eyes that you know the days of cooperation are over. All that remains is to see who will fall first.’
‘Are you referring to the zirean doomsday?’
‘That was my mistake for trying to be coy with a sorcerer.’
Zireans had a number of theories about what would herald the end of their race. Among the fantastic, and the legendary, their likeliest scenario was rather mundane. They believed a civil war would tear Xardiassant apart. Zirean sociologists stipulated that was how the galaxy would fall. Not by the hand of some advanced race, nor suns exploding, but by our own greed. There was a reason lust was compared with fire. Both consumed all, leaving nothing but ash.
‘This used to be an aquarium,’ Trix said as she looked around the forest. She knew it to be true, for she could see the same desk Daquarius Farosi had once used, sitting exactly where it had been. ‘I wasn’t aware Nadira liked frivolous spending.’
‘Even the moon may be free with enough blackmail,’ Dahos mused. Trix heard Nightshade’s beats before Dahos opened the office door.
Down the hallway was the burlesque section where the sexiest men and women from all races stripped for the pleasure of high rollers wasted on expensive booze. Then came the nightclub itself. The noise was close to deafening. It’d been flooded last time Trix had been inside. There’d also been a giant hole in the wall.
Trix saw Nadira immediately. The VIP section was on a floating platform above the regular punters complete with its own bar, dancefloor, and lounge area. Trix could see the back of her head. She also saw someone else who was familiar, bending his elbow like it was nobody’s business. Aleks Valentine.
Dahos bowed to the duo, then left the way he’d come. Trix walked to the bouncer guarding the VIP elevator. He let her through without a word. His face betrayed no confusion at seeing Altayr. Even with his staff. That wasn’t something you usually saw in a club.
‘Trix of Zilvia,’ Nadira said. She was holding a martini glass. Trix knew it was only soda water with lime extract. She could smell it. Nadira wanted everyone to believe she was drunk, when she couldn’t have been more sober. ‘And Altayr Van Eldric. An honour for an advisor as esteemed as yourself to grace us with your presence.’
‘Which one of your spies told you he was with me?’
‘That would spoil the fun.’ Nadira leaned in closer. ‘Though it would be wise if you stopped trying to follow Rasud Sinnad’s trail. Leave it to those of us with discretion.’
Trix was about to reply when she heard footsteps behind her. She knew who was coming.
‘Valkyrie, beautiful, how are you?’ Valentine said. His burly, Irish voice ringing with mirth. Reeking of alcohol. One of Valentine’s favourite sayings was that to avoid getting a beer gut, one should only drink spirits.
‘Valentine, you whore mongering, sybarite lothario,’ Trix deadpanned before cracking a smile and hugging the author. ‘How are you?’
‘Richer than an immortal miser thanks to your stories, so I can’t complain. Money, they say, doesn’t buy you happiness. But it means my glass is never empty. And damned if that ain’t close enough.’
‘Still working on the one about the princess?’
‘Nah, finished that one already. I’m waiting for a day where I’m sober to go through and edit. Reckon sometime next month I’ll be ready. Got book signings coming up. Fuck me sideways if I can’t be sloshed through those.’
‘I trust this story’s full of fabrications.’
‘I may have added a royal sex scandal just to spice things up a bit.’
‘If the story were any spicier the pages would be too hot to turn.’
‘Maybe if you had told me everything that happened I wouldn’t have needed to lie. Doesn’t matter though. I like it. Sure other people will too.’
‘Trix, while I’m glad I could facilitate this spontaneous reunion, this visit isn’t for pleasure,’ Nadira said. She spoke insouciantly, like she couldn’t have cared either way.
‘Another adventure in the making by the sounds of it,’ Valentine said, downing his double shot without blinking. ‘Count me in.’
‘This is for Trix’s ears only, Valentine,’ Nadira said.
‘Nadira, after all we’ve been through, I can’t believe you’d shut me out like that,’ Valentine said, swaying a little. His speech, however, was unimpaired.
The author’s head had a shaved, crew cut fade. Dense five o’clock shadow covered his face. He wore his desert sand coloured army boots, hooded orbital ranger jacket, slim black jeans, and a ratty t-shirt. A chunky, black beanie was tucked into his back trouser pocket.
You would’ve never guessed he was a successful author by looking at him. Many critics called his writing mediocre at best, utter tripe at worst. Valentine couldn’t give a fuck.
‘Every time we’re together, Valentine, there’s trouble.’
‘Exactly why I want to come with you. There hasn’t been enough trouble lately. I could go for a fight.’
As a young man, Valentine had fought in the final battles against the anghenfil as part of Earth’s 19th Orbital Ranger Division, Meteor Brigade. They specialised in orbital drops and parachuting into anghenfil strongholds. Indeed, many of Valentine’s early stories were about warfare. Various offensives. Space battles. Lovers torn apart by the never-ending bloodshed. They’d done moderately well. But the atrocities were too fresh in people’s minds. They didn’t want to relive them in stories.
For Valentine, writing was a way of coping with what he’d seen. He’d written poetry before going to war. Having his legs mutilated by anghenfilic acid changed his perspective. Now they were totally bionic. Valentine didn’t mind. As he liked to say, his third leg was his best leg anyway.
The UNSC had offered Valentine the chance to become a Spartan because of his valorous efforts. He chose to retire from service and become an author instead. He didn’t regret it. After all, his wealth allowed him to maintain a visage nearly as youthful as Trix’s, despite being 99 years old. But war had left him numb to all endeavours, save for three.
Fuddling, fighting, and fucking.
‘The less you know of this the better, Valentine,’ Trix said. She wouldn’t’ve minded carousing with the author again. The problem was that Valentine had a big mouth. And if any of Nadira’s secrets got out, it’d be filled with lead. Or worse.
The machina turned to Nadira. ‘Altayr, however, will be coming with me.’
‘Trix, while I commend you for using your body for something other than killing, I don’t want the Conclave knowing about my business. I work hard to make sure they don’t. The only reason I’ve allowed him this far was to show you I can be hospitable.’
‘I’m not here representing the Conclave,’ Altayr said. ‘Just assisting a friend.’
‘The Valkyrie is perhaps the last person who needs assistance, sorcerer. And you mages are always representing the Conclave. You’re the best spies in the galaxy. Hiding in plain sight. Remarkable how people assume beauty begets benevolent intentions. I will not allow you to join us.’
Trix: ‘You can’t stop me from telling him once we’re done. And since you knew we were together on the Bastion, you also know that you’re not the only person to have bailed me out of a prison sentence.’
‘Yes, you owe Roger Hobbes as well. I’ll admit that I was unable to ascertain the exact terms of your release, but I believe employment was involved.’
‘Then you’ve already revealed what you’re after, Nadira. You may want to check your surroundings next time I lead you down the garden path.’
‘What’re you talking about?’
‘You’re willing to tel
l me what you want despite me being in the ECG’s chairman’s employ. For whatever reason, what you want might be so dangerous you believe only I can acquire it for you. I know it’s not because you trust me, Nadira, you only allude to the notion of trust. Don’t worry, I don’t trust you either.’
Valentine and Altayr watched Trix’s tirade intently. Valentine whistled for the bartender to bring him another drink. He reached into his deep pockets. Pulled out a cigarillo. It’d been centuries since they were bad for you. Valentine couldn’t have cared if they were. He was able to afford any corrective surgery necessary to heal whatever ailed him.
Altayr saw a tattoo on the back of Valentine’s right hand as the author raised a lighter to his cigarillo. A sword with a fountain pen tip was stabbing a cartoon heart. Ink, or maybe blood, dripped out. It was all in black.
‘The other reason is that what you want is of magical significance. Not something Roger Hobbes would care about, but something the Conclave would be interested in. And if the Conclave are interested in this object, but don’t yet possess it, it’s either illegal, or they don’t know how to procure it. Of course, the last scenario is that you plan on stealing from the Conclave. And that would be foolish, even for you. Though I’m flattered you think I’d be capable of such a task.’
Nadira’s face didn’t falter. She drank from her martini glass like she was listening to pointless gossip. Who slept with whom? Who drank too much last night? Nothing about her mien revealed her thoughts. For all Trix knew, the Duchess hadn’t even been listening.
Valentine, as he was wont to do, served to
(try and)
break the tension.
‘Not a fan of magic, myself. I had a fistfight with a wizard once. Son of a bitch set my fucking pants on fire when I broke his nose. They’re terrible sore losers. Then again, his girlfriend didn’t mind that I had no pants on. Less work for her. Now corrachs, they know how to have a good scrap.’ Valentine looked damn chuffed with himself even though no one commented on his anecdote. He whispered to Altayr after taking a sip of his new drink. ‘No offence, mate.’ Valentine stuck out his hand.
