by Blaze Ward
A fight broke out when the old man got there. Someone didn’t like the kid. Flamers got pulled out. Valentinian watched a sword appear from under those robes. Someone lost an arm and the troublemakers were suddenly running for their lives, and presumably the nearest medical facility.
Dave had tensed. Valentinian could almost smell the energy coming off the big man as the fracas settled itself over there.
“We’re out of here,” he decided, leaving the other half of his beer on the table and standing.
Dave looked up at him in surprise.
“Why?” he asked, confused.
“Weapons means someone is going to call the cops,” Valentinian explained. “Even here. Probably send Caelons down here, considering which bar it was. I don’t want to be questioned and possibly detained, since the old man might have been seen talking to us. Let’s go.”
Dave shrugged and nodded. He slid out of the booth and stood up to his immense height, glowering unconsciously at everyone and everything in here.
Across the bar, Valentinian watched the old man sit down at another table. Another pair of spacers, one human and one a tall, furry alien, looked just as disreputable as Valentinian felt right now. He could always come back later.
After whatever other trouble was brewing with that old man blew past.
Out in the hallway, Valentinian considered his options. The station was a big torus, flattened into three oversized decks and spinning slowly on its axis as it orbited the planet below. This was the commercial deck. Above them it was mostly residential, where the permanent inhabitants lived. Below was the industrial, where the on-station manufacturing took place.
Valentinian took a look back at the dim interior of the space, and made sure Dave was close at hand, as he flipped a coin in his head and turned left. He did enough work on the elliptical machine that he was in good shape. Could probably circumnavigate the station a couple of times if he needed to, but he didn’t want to go far.
This was the rougher neighborhood, as it were. The spacer bars that were kept as far away from the tourist spaces as possible, just like on nearly every station he had ever docked. It worked better that way, for everyone.
Still, he wanted to appear to be more of a law-abiding type, rather than someone with a bounty on his head, fleeing ahead of the cops, so he picked a coffee house down a few doors and across the promenade. Inside, he ordered a small pot of tea and settled himself in to let it steep.
Because they were close to the open front door, Valentinian watched the front and sat Dave in such a way that the big man could see the interior. Not ideal, but something about coffee shops seemed to preclude fights, for the most part. Valentinian presumed there was a science behind it. Probably something to do with alcohol versus caffeine. Getting wound up as opposed to trying to relax.
Time passed. Tea steeped. Dave watched. Valentinian noted the arrival of four goons in white and orange battle armor across the way, plus a man in a severe, black uniform.
Caelons, just like he had expected.
They emerged a few minutes later, none the wiser, but Valentinian had already watched the old man and his nephew slink out the door and vanish down the walkway beforehand.
Creator only knew what kind of trouble that old man was. Far worse than Madame Cleray. Hopefully Dave would end up being a sheep in wolves’ clothing, a runaway accountant when all was said and done, and Valentinian was just over-sensitive.
A guy can hope, right?
Another man stepped to the doorway, paused, looked around. He smiled at Valentinian in a manner so oily Valentinian wondered if a shower would be necessary to get the smell out later.
The stranger approached, hands stretched across an ample gut barely contained by a silk scarf wrapped around his middle several times. The bald head and beady eyes might have come out of a casting catalog. The clothing was expensive, if mismatched. Valentinian wondered if the man normally looked like that, and had been pressed into the arena, or had cultivated the image that everyone expected when he got there.
“May I?” he indicated the empty chair on the side.
“Indeed,” Valentinian smiled with his teeth but not his eyes. “The tea approaches perfection. Surely, I can impose upon you to join us in having a cup?”
“I would be delighted to assist,” the man said, sitting as the old ritual greeting was completed.
“Valentinian,” he introduced himself to the used-speeder-dealer as he poured a third mug and slid it across the table to the man.
“Ahdramenites,” the man answered, taking a polite sip as Valentinian did. “I might have noticed you in a bar, recently.”
Valentinian shrugged.
“We were approached about a charter, but my crew cabins are already booked for the foreseeable future,” Valentinian replied. “And that old man asking was Dominion trouble awaiting the axe. I have better ways to spend my life.”
“So I concluded as well,” the fixer replied, his smile as slick and transparent as his manner. “What brings you to Aestrolathia, gentlemen?”
“Our charter,” Valentinian said simply. “Her itinerary has many worlds and stops. We are the tour bus for Solaria Femina for the time being.”
“Indeed?” the man’s eyebrows climbed up to his non-existent scalp. “May we all be so lucky as to spend our days surrounded by such beautiful women.”
“You know them?” Valentinian inquired. And noticed the ghost of a fist clenching on Dave’s hand as he drank his own tea.
Big guy didn’t like the stranger much more than Valentinian did, but you had to build pyramids with the cards you were dealt.
“They have traveled to our planet with regularity,” Ahdramenites smiled.
“Then perhaps you know Madame Cleray’s former partner. A gentleman named Nash, I believe?” Valentinian decided to play the innocent today.
He watched the man’s eyes like they had both just gone all in on the pot between them. Noted the flicker that the man didn’t suppress fast enough, the slight moue of distaste that never was more than a suggestion of a hint.
“I might have encountered the man, it is possible,” Ahdramenites allowed. “Could you describe him?”
Valentinian did, leaving out the parts where the fight had broken out and Dave had shown himself to be another one of those dangerous, warrior monks, like the old man across the way. No reason to frighten this font of information.
At least, not yet.
“Ah, yes,” Ahdramenites smiled politely. “I may have indeed met him. But, of course, I have not seen him lately.”
Valentinian reached into a pocket of his jacket and palmed a coin. Reaching out, he placed it across the table silently in front of the stranger.
“We would, of course, like to avoid any misunderstandings with the man,” Valentinian said as he withdrew his empty hand. “Perhaps if he followed us here, you might hear news of it before we did, and let us know?”
The hand moved like a striking snake on a lively mouse, swallowing the coin in a blur.
“I will keep my eyes and ears open, gentleman,” he smiled, just as oily. “Is there other business we might transact at the current time?”
“There might be,” Valentinian let his word trail off. “I believe Madame Cleray’s next stop is down on the planet below, so we will need to research things like a central landing pad for my ship, ground transport for the women, and possibly lodging, since they may choose to spend a few nights closer to their theater, rather than running back and forth to the ship each night. Do you have any friends on the surface that might be beneficial to call?”
“I can do you so much better,” the man’s eyes lit up. “I have a cousin.”
Valentinian smiled. They all had cousins. If you listened close enough, every fixer on every planet and station was probably part of one extended clan, rather than just belonging to a thieves guild with membership cards.
But that was how business worked. One man’s hustle turned into connections and favors flowing abo
ut. Aestrolathia was a new world to Valentinian, at least for staying this long, and there was no reason he might not be back this way at some point.
Assuming that Dave’s problems weren’t so great that all of them ended up running for Wildspace as fast and as hard as they could.
“You are the captain of Longshot Hypothesis?” Ahdramenites asked tentatively.
Valentinian hadn’t mentioned his ship at any point, but he wasn’t surprised the man had done his homework. He had come looking for them, after all.
“I am,” Valentinian nodded and pointed to the big, mean, bastard of a warrior monk daintily sipping tea across from him. “My first mate, Dave.”
“Charmed,” Dave actually set his mug down and shook the man’s hand.
Ahdramenites’s eyes lit up as he no doubt felt the callouses that developed when you held a sword enough. A different calculation took shape in an eyeblink.
“Let me call my cousin and make inquiries,” he propositioned. “So that whatever Madame Cleray’s needs are, we can immediately meet them.”
“I look forward to your message, Ahdramenites,” Valentinian smiled as the man rose.
“Until then.”
And he was gone.
“How did that go?” Dave asked tentatively after the man vanished.
“About as well as could be expected,” Valentinian replied. “He knew who we were before he walked in. Now he knows we’ll do business and want a long-term thing, so he’s evaluating where this puts Nash and how many favors are on the abacus right now. And I’m pretty sure he realized at the end just how dangerous you could be, so he has to add that to the scale.
“Exactly as intended,” Dave smiled. “You seemed to have it in hand, but half of what you said was gibberish to me.”
“We’ll make a spacer out of you yet,” Valentinian finished his tea and stood with a warm smile. “Now, let’s head back to the nicer parts of the station and find a shop. I have a few needs, and then I want dinner.”
Dave rose and followed, glancing about as if he suspected he was being watched.
Valentinian knew they were under observation. He just didn’t know who the watchers were going to tell.
Or how much trouble that would bring.
12
Valentinian
At no point had Valentinian mentioned his previous itinerary, but he supposed that Madame Cleray’s schedule was public knowledge, if you were into that sort of thing, so people might know that they had come her directly from Dominion Prime.
And left just before news had emerged that the Dominator, the old Dominator, had been assassinated, suddenly and effectively.
Little was known publically about the upper echelons of the Solar Party and the capstone of the Dominion government himself. Valentinian supposed Qetesh Intelligence, or maybe Lei-Zu would have insights, be he was just a spacer.
So he played it as stupid as a sheep when the news exploded and every broadsheet on every table over breakfast had every dribble of news available that their sovereign lord and master was dead. Ignored the people around him when they chattered back and forth around him as breakfast was ending. And even more columns of talk were dedicated to handicapping the sudden entrants who might be admitted into the Tournament of Domination that would culminate in the next one.
All the news was at least two weeks out of date anyway, so nobody could do more than speculate. And Valentinian really didn’t want to take a guess at the timing that had him here.
Too much chance of truth serum in his future. Especially now.
At least most of the information was held as a state secret. Timing wouldn’t tell anybody anything, especially since he could honestly say that the last person he talked to before he left Dominion Prime was one of the White Hats. And he would, if asked.
Anything to maintain stupid.
They were down on the surface of Aestrolathia today, having landed last night, probably about the same time that a courier dropped out of warp with the official news, once the government felt it needed to tell the population. The spies around here had probably learned just about as fast as Longshot Hypothesis had originally gotten here.
At least nobody had come to talk to him.
Valentinian was late to breakfast for the usual crowd. Right at the tail end, just before brunch people would have started to wander in. The starport where they had docked had indeed belonged to a cousin of Ahdramenites, more or less, but it was centrally located, close to the main transit hubs, and the rates were good enough.
Plus, the restaurant specialized in what they called a farmer breakfast, served all day. Heavy on carbs and meat, slathered over with gravy at the slightest excuse. Hiranur’s cooking was fantastic, but she was absolutely dedicated to keeping young girls svelte and healthy.
Sometimes a man needed drop biscuits covered with sausage gravy and cheese, plus a couple liters of black coffee, to start his day.
Valentinian had let Dave sleep in, the planetary clock being offset some from the ship, but the man was up and walked in looking like he had just run fifteen kilometers and showered afterwards.
Valentinian considered hating him on general principles, but Dave was a good guy, as near as he could tell. Or a good enough actor to make up for it. And that was all that really mattered.
The big man sauntered over like he had been practicing his public walk. He might have. Most of the time, he looked like he was grimly headed up the hill to kick in the door and kill everyone in the tower. Today was rather mellow, so he hadn’t heard the news yet.
Valentinian waved a half-empty coffee mug at Dave as he continued to shovel over-easy eggs and cooked potatoes into his mouth. The news broadsheet could wait. There was nothing in there Valentinian hadn’t heard already.
Dave sat, glancing at the page. He stopped and blanched, turning white for a moment.
Valentinian put his coffee down momentarily and slid the paper across to the man, making eye contact with the waiter. The big man would want food and coffee to deal with the shock.
Or at least to have time to refine whatever cover story he was going to tell.
“And what can I get you to drink this morning?” the waiter asked solicitously as he walked up.
Dave had fallen silent when Valentinian looked over.
“He’ll need coffee, and a menu,” Valentinian offered.
“Right away.” And he was gone.
Valentinian was finished with his food about the time Dave finished reading the second page article that offered nothing more relevant than the best place to place bets on the various stages of the Tournament. A lot of money was going to change hands soon.
“Huh,” Dave even managed to sound convincing, in case any strangers happened to be listening in.
The joint was mostly empty right now, but the next crop of folks was just making their way across the landing field. The sun had only been up for about an hour, and nobody but ranchers got up early on Aestrolathia, apparently.
“Just glad we got out when we did,” Valentinian replied in a vague voice. “Apparently, they shut down all transit about four hours after we got clear of the station. Didn’t start clearing people for about three days. Last any news came in, nothing new about the assassin, or how he did it.”
Long pause from the big guy. Digesting. Re-calculating.
Ignorance would be no defense now, if Dave was that kind of killer. Valentinian and probably even Madam Cleray would be thrown into small, dark cells and left to sweat. Possibly just executed out of spite.
Hopefully, she was smart enough to realize that, and keep her own mouth shut. And not let her girls or staff talk to anybody outside the ship.
“So now what?” Dave asked innocently.
Valentinian shrugged.
“Unless you feel the need to race back to Dominion Prime, so that you can add your name to the list of people wanting to vie for ultimate power, I don’t see how anything changes,” Valentinian replied. “I have a charter contract with Madame Cleray. Yo
u’ve got an employment contract as first mate, unless you want to break it.”
He turned innocent eyes on Dave, daring the man to break character for long enough to come clean and get them all executed. Valentinian didn’t doubt for a moment what might happen.
And there was zilch he could do about it.
The waiter brought coffee. Topped Valentinian’s mug. Smiled expectantly.
“Get him the hungry-spacer special,” Valentinian said loud enough that Dave glanced at the menu in surprise. “Extra everything.”
“Coming up.”
Dave fell silent. Valentinian sipped freshly hot coffee.
“That’s it?” Dave whispered.
“Yeah,” Valentinian blew out a heavy breathe. “Don’t tell me anything at this point, unless it helps keep us out of reach of whoever might want to ask questions about who you were before. I’m assuming we need to look at the possibility of running like hell. What are our odds?”
Dave watched him like a hawk. Studying. Again, re-calculating as the scales wavered back and forth.
“What about Madame Cleray?” Dave asked.
Valentinian shrugged again.
“I doubt she was involved,” Valentinian offered. “Unless she was maneuvered into hiring me at the same time I was set up to need a first mate on Dominion Prime. There’s always that.”
Dave stiffened in such a way that Valentinian nearly threw his coffee in the man’s face, as a prelude to seeing if he could make it to the door of the café fast enough to escape the assassin’s reach.
“That would suggest an enormous conspiracy, just to kill the Dominator, wouldn’t it?” Dave murmured quietly.
“Probably,” Valentinian agreed. “And it still makes us all at least accomplices, even after the fact. The kind the new Dominator lines up against a wall and shoots, ya know?”
“Yeah, I do,” Dave said. “I’m old enough to remember some of the aftermath when the last guy took power. You weren’t even born yet. It got ugly for about a year, even though the former guy chose ritual suicide by triggering a new Tournament of Domination and then walking into the final battle and barely swinging his sword once. Lots of the old regime still had to be purged.”
