by Jenn Lyons
areas. Earth plants provided splashes of green and bright white flowers to scent the air and provide relief from the ever-present color. In the Sarcodinay fashion, there was no realistic art, but the mosaics, fractals and patterns were used with a deft hand. LED lights, not affected by the power outage that did little to drain their internal batteries, gave the room a soft candlelit glow.
I watched Randolph Patel walk from the bedroom through the living room on his way to the kitchen area, holding a pair of glasses, both empty. He was wearing a pair of ombre orange-red pajama pants and nothing else, feet bare and all the braids in his normally outlandish up do undone. He was, at least in my opinion, far prettier in this state than he’d been at that party.
“Gala-Patel, have a moment?”
He dropped the glasses. “Keepers, you—” I watched as he eyes widened. “You!”
I crossed one leg over the other from my position on one of the curoquo couches and smiled at him. “Yeah, me. Look, Randy, I know we didn’t get off on the right foot last time—”
Jonathan walked into the room from the bedroom. He was dressed in a black silk robe and nothing else, and I couldn’t stop myself from grinning as I saw him. Ah, poor Vanessa. I was going to tease the hell out of her about this.
“Randy, is everything okay—?” Jonathan paused.
I bit my lip and waved at him. “Hi there.”
Randolph turned bright red. “Um, I can explain—”
“What’s to explain?” I asked. “He’s cute. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”
“What are you doing here?” Jonathan asked me.
“Ah, well, I need to ask Randolph a favor.”
“No, I mean what are you doing here in FirstCity? Isn’t there a warrant out for your arrest?”
I studied the man before I chuckled. “You know, I kind of suspected you weren’t really an Urban.”
Jonathan paused, glanced over at Randolph in a way that suggested he really didn’t want to have this conversation just then but had no other option, then sighed. “No, I’m not.”
“Wait, what? You’re a scholar caste...” Randolph trailed off.
“Fake.” Jonathan shrugged. “Look, Randy, I wasn’t lying to you exactly, I just—”
“I really do not want to cause a rift in what I’m sure has been a lovely couple of days of broadening Randolph’s sexual horizons,” I interrupted, “but Randy is one of the very few lucky souls to have an invitation to go to Sol Arrival Station with Lisa Keiler’s contingent to witness the peace treaty, and I need to be there.” I held out my hands. “So here I am.”
Randolph blinked at me. “I’m not going to help a wanted criminal break the law. Are you out of your mind?”
I sighed and gave him a wistful glance. “Randolph, I really need your help.”
“Oh, well then,” he said, looking smug, vindictive and no doubt remembering every moment of when I had humiliated him earlier.
I turned to Jonathan. “What branch?”
He studied me before answering. “Intelligence Operations.”
“Really? We probably know the same people.” I leaned forward. “Please believe me. I am not helping Zaladin. But right now he’s on his way to that meeting, intent on assassinating Tirris Vahn, who in turn is planning to assassinate the Emperor and frame Zaladin for the crime, using it as an excuse to cancel the treaty. She overloaded the antimatter reactor here in FirstCity just to kill Zaladin so he couldn’t be there to protest. She was willing to kill sixteen million people to take out one man.”
“If what you say is true, we should tell Jockey,” Jonathan said, thus proving that we did indeed know the same people.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “By all means, but I’m one of the very few people I know trained to stop a High Guard who works for the human side, and the only person I know who has actually done it.”
“You’re claiming that you’ve defeated a High Guard.” He raised an eyebrow.
“I have. On Deimos.”
“That’s ludicrous,” Randolph said.
Jonathan looked more serious. “It’s possible she’s telling the truth.”
“I need to be there. I know how Zaladin thinks.”
“Zaladin’s one of these High Guards?” Jonathan rubbed his chin as he considered the matter.
“He is.”
“I’m calling MOJ,” Randolph said, and started to turn towards one of the control panels.
“No,” Jonathan shook his head. “Don’t. I think she’s telling the truth. Also, the power’s out.”
Randolph looked at Jonathan, his skepticism plain to see. I watched at his dark-haired lover crossed over, took his hand, kissed it gently, and then pulled Randolph in for a long, lingering kiss.
And then I looked away, because I suddenly felt like all kinds of a voyeur.
“I was going to bring you with me,” Randolph whispered.
“Shh, it’s okay. We’ll meet up again afterward.”
Randolph reluctantly broke their embrace and walked over to where I still sat on the couch. “You really think that if you’re not at this peace signing it’s going to be the end of the world?”
I leaned my head back against the couch and regarded him. “Randy, I know this is going to sound every kind of arrogant, but if I hadn’t been here in FirstCity today, you two would both be atoms spread across a very large hole in the Antarctic ice. I can’t claim to know what’s going to happen on Sol Station, but I know there are going to be a whole lot of very trigger-happy people up there, and at least two groups actively looking to kill each other. It may not be the end of the world if I’m not there, but it may end up not being the end of the war, either.”
Finally Randolph nodded. “All right, you’ve got yourself a date.” He looked at my appearance critically. “I don’t suppose you brought a change of clothes? You’re not exactly dressed appropriately.”
I shook my head. “No, I was hoping you might have an auto-tailor?”
“There’s no power...”
I smiled. “You’ll find there is here. A least for a little while.”
He pondered. “I’ll see what I can find.” He smirked. “Just don’t expect it to be white and gold.” Randolph turned around and headed into one of the other rooms.
I chuckled at the unexpected humor. I don’t think he’d believe me if I told him I was legally allowed to wear those colors.
Jonathan came around behind the couch and leaned over the side, next to where one of my arms was resting. “You’re welcome.”
I turned my head towards his. “Yes, about that...”
Jonathan smiled. “You owe me one, Princess.”
I felt a stab of nervousness, and my heart raced, but then I realized he had no idea, and it was just an expression. I bet he called a lot of girls ‘princess’ and a lot of boys ‘prince’ and he probably wasn’t terribly picky about which sex he woke up next to on any given morning. I wondered if he was from Liberty. I could see it. They liked to call themselves Libertines for a damn good reason. “And just how do you expect to be repaid?”
He leaned in a little closer. “I’m sure we can come up with something we both agree is appropriate.” His voice was polite but just suggestive enough so I could take it as an invitation if I was so inclined.
“Very nice of you,” I agreed, “but my dance card is full right now, and so, I think, is yours.”
He glanced back over his shoulder to where Randolph was prepping a 3D fabricator and programming instructions into an automated tailor. “So very true, but I expect we’ll meet again.” He pointed a finger at me. “So don’t die out there. I’d hate to lose the opportunity to arrange something with you, a brunette and a redhead.” He snapped his fingers. “Say, that friend of yours from the party...”
“Oh Keepers, you are from Liberty.” I rolled my eyes and laughed.
“Why does everyone always say that?” Jonathan mused.
Randolph stuck his head outside the door. “The equipment’s ready. Let’s fit you
up in something appropriate to witness humanity’s official moment of freedom.”
ggg
If North Point Station was the primary destination for merchant freighters dropping off or picking up large batches of cargo from the Sol System, the main space traffic control hub was the much more modest station known as Sol Arrival Station, or as most people nicknamed it, Solaris.
North Point Station was a major entrepôt, the major entrepôt, for the Sol System. Solaris, which marked the earliest point out of Earth’s orbit by which a leaving Sarcodinay vessel could safely jump to hyperspace, was less a destination than a traffic tower monitoring the flow of arrivals and departures to other locations. Very few ships ever stopped at Solaris, since the station neither handled customs nor delivery beyond the standard digitized mail services. As one of the first lines of defense in case of attack, the defensive weaponry on the station was impressive, but the satellite itself was little better than a truck stop alongside of an old-fashioned freeway.
A truck stop which was now about to host one of the most important peace signings in the history of two races. The invitation list was appropriately selective. There just wasn’t room to invite everyone who wanted to attend, or even everyone who appropriately should attend.
I found myself on one of the few shuttles cleared to make the trip alongside my date for the next day, Randolph Patel. To my shock, the man dressed down considerably from the showing he’d made when we first met, but that was because he warming up a new role under his equally new colonial boss, Lisa Keiler. He was making an effort to blend, and it amused me that
