A Blue Star Rising

by Cecilia Randell

  At a signal from Trevon, Prin stayed with the other guards as the Family head slid into the booth opposite Mo’ata and Demil.

  Zeynar grinned. “Bit of déjà vu here.” He paused as the waitress brought a third mug of foka and hurried away. “I figured out the rest of Nya’s message. She was trying to say, ‘Follow the blue scent.’ Seems overly cryptic and simple all at once, doesn’t it?”

  “Less cryptic and more simple, Zeynar,” Demil said.

  Mo’ata could see where this was going. “Your present to her.”

  “Yup.” Zeynar flashed his smirky grin, but there wasn’t much energy behind it. “She’s never even cracked it open, has she?”

  Mo’ata shrugged. She hadn’t, not that he knew of.

  “Oh. Well, she would have recognized it on me if she had.” Then he proceeded to fill them in. “I should have an analysis of the scent later tonight. If Pike knows the flowers used in it, I’ll know as well. And if he doesn’t, then we at least know it’s from an area that’s newly explored.”

  “Or something newly discovered. The jungles are extremely dense in some areas of Falass.” Mo’ata rapped his fingers on the tabletop. Falass. That… made sense. Falass was not a world he had studied much, but because of the climate, the flora there was varied and exotic. And because it was a closed world, both the Order and the Ministry had a minimal presence.

  Except for the external security agents. “Jason was sent to Falass.” The statement was more for Demil’s benefit than Zeynar’s. “He was sent to check on a couple of agents who’d missed their appointed check-in.”

  Trevon nodded, the silver and blue studs in his ears winking. “My thought as well. Pinch owes me. He’ll give up the location. But even if we get the general area the agents were supposed to be monitoring, that doesn’t give us the location of whoever is making this crap.”

  Anger burned there. Whoever was responsible had somehow infiltrated Zeynar’s territory. First Nya, then his man, then himself.

  Zeynar’s man. “I know you gave us the medical report on your investigation, but we’re digging deeper. Could you put together a bio, recent know movements and associates on the man you… lost? Blue is going through similar data on the others.”

  Zeynar didn’t hesitate. “Of course, I’ll get Prin on it as soon as we leave.” He sipped at his foka, then grinned. “I hear she had a ‘girls’ day.’ Poor Duri had to go with them. We received running commentary on the inability of salon proprietors and customers to respect personal space.”

  “It was a well-deserved break. And the girl—”

  “Elaina. They like it when you learn the names of their friends.”

  Mo’ata raised a brow. “Right. Elaina seems good for Blue.”

  “Seems so. Movie night tonight?”

  “After we finish with reports and Blue has done her training.”

  “So, 19:00?”

  Mo’ata nodded. Zeynar tossed back the rest of his drink and left.

  “Movie night?”

  Mo’ata lowered his head to the table and thunked it, once. “Zeynar declared for Blue a few days ago. The same day he was attacked and we contacted you.”

  Demil slapped his back. “Good luck with that.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Maybe I’ll just rest here for a little while.

  “What is that phrase? Herding cats?”

  “More than you know, more than you know.”

  Chapter 23

  BLUE

  Blue let herself into the apartment and held her arms out just in time to catch a leaping piquet. Garfield sniffed her, rubbed his cheek to hers, and purred.

  “I missed you too.”

  “Hey pixie.” Forrest poked his head out of the cleaning room. His gaze lingered on her hair. “Looks good.”

  She dug her fingers into Garfield’s ruff. “Yeah?” It was a little different than what she’d had, the color brighter and the streaks wider, but Forgi, the hairdresser, had assured her it would also last longer.

  “Yup.” He jerked his head toward the dining table. “Mo’ata left you a note and transferred the new files to your tablet. Then he got a message and said something about needing to check in with the boss. Levi’s at work.”

  She wandered over to the table.

  * * *

  Shopa,

  See what you can glean from these. You catch patterns I sometimes miss.

  Also, do not forget it is your turn to cook. And study for classes tomorrow.

  * * *

  That was it. But he had at least left her a note, and his handwriting was nice. Even and precise. She bounced the cub in her arms. Soon he’d be too big to hold like this. “Well, what do you think, my carnage-kitty? Shall we put stuff away and then get to work?”

  Garfield purred. Like earlier, sleepy contentment radiated from him.

  “Fine. You nap.” She took him to her room, laid him on the bed, and put away her new purchases—three pairs of leggings that Elaina had promised were warmer than any jeans she had, four new fela sweaters, another pair of boots, a scarf patterned in stars, and a slinky black nighty. She’d almost passed the last by, but she now had a plan for it. Tomorrow night was Levi’s night.

  And she wasn’t waiting for a disaster this time.

  Elaina had also given her plenty to think about with both the Cularnian idea of courting and the Martikan. They were remarkably similar. Both started with gifts, things of beauty or value to show the one you were courting their beauty and value. Then came the “gestures.” It could be something as simple as taking the girl out dancing if she loved dancing or writing her a poem. Or it could be as grand as abdicating a position of authority—though Elaina had only heard of that happening once. Once those were accepted, a trial period was arranged, and if all agreed after that, a formal and permanent pairing took place.

  Where the two worlds differed was in how it was initiated and where the end result took you. Cularnians still had arranged pairings—or more like arranged meetings. The family would set it up. The couple would still be able to decide on their own whether to move forward with the courtship. If a man or a woman found someone they thought a likely candidate, there had to be family approval before a formal courtship could begin.

  Elaina said it was more a formality these days than a true necessity. And a successful courtship always ended in marriage.

  For Martikans, there was Family approval in a sense. But only in the sense that if a couple from two different Families decided to join together, they would pick one Family to be part of. Also, the courtship did not have to end in marriage or a permanent joining. It could be for a pre-determined amount of time during which any children were legitimate or even a brief liaison.

  Oh, and the guy had to be the one to initiate, unlike on Cularna.

  Yes, it was a lot to think about. She had no idea what Trev was “courting” her for, and it also shed some light on Felix’s situation. If his father really was a general, getting that family’s approval would be tough.

  I don’t care about their approval. Not really. But for Felix’s sake… Did he care?

  It wasn’t the kind of thing you asked over the comm. And he wouldn’t be back for another five days. An image of Felix’s horrified expression if she were to send such a message came to her, and she giggled. It was so clear. Hey, Felix, what do you think about not ever telling your dad we have a thing going and I’m planning to court you. There would be adorable confusion, followed by wide and darting eyes, and then finally all the blood would drain from his face and he’d faint over dead. Well, maybe not, but it was still an extremely amusing message.

  She looked one last time at Garfield asleep on the bed, then sighed. “Wish I could join you. But I have homework.”

  Grabbing a notebook, she settled in at the dining table and pulled up the files she’d been sent.

  Ten total victims. That they knew of. It didn’t seem like many, not compared to statistics she’d seen and heard on Earth about drug abuse and overdoses. And at
the same time, it seemed like too many. Each of these people had been, if not killed, mentally incapacitated by whatever it was they’d taken.

  She knew there were more people than this taking it. From the conversation she’d overheard between Sarah and her friend, the girl had definitely been taking the drug, she just hadn’t taken “too much.”

  What had the boss seen in these incidents that caused him to set such a high priority to the case? Levi had been assigned to a whole drug and substance unit. Why weren’t they on this? She didn’t know the answer to the first, but she did know the answer to the second. Zeynar. Was the attention to this more about drawing in the Family head and cultivating that connection than about tracking this drug to its source? Or was the boss simply taking advantage of a situation.

  I need to meet him. It occurred to her that, until she could see the man Mo’ata called boss, mentor, and friend and get a feel for the type of man he was, she couldn’t fully commit herself to the Order.

  None of that matters for these ten people though.

  She dove in.

  She started with the one she was slightly familiar with—Petyr Torvich. It listed his address, the same one she now had; his age, 19; the basics of his description, height, weight, eye color, etc. She skimmed it all. When she came to “last known movements,” the information was sparse, but she wrote it all down in her notebook. “Known associates” was also sparse, and she had to wonder if the Academy’s discipline committee had somehow managed to hold back the information from the general database, or wherever the Order had gathered their information. Or maybe Petyr really didn’t have all that many friends.

  Then she started back at the beginning. Ivan Jorrik from Turamm, deceased. Mische Pail, Turamm, deceased. Ferra Boin, Turamm. Charmin Ichar, Cularna. John Robinson, Karran. Ishal Norran, Padilra. Fiall Nar, Martika. Mikhail Fenek, Turamm. And lastly, Misha Zek, Turamm.

  Sheets of paper torn from her notebook were spread across the table’s surface, scraps and colored markings next to things she felt were significant or possibly connected, and general chaos reigned when Mo’ata got home. Forrest had stayed out of her way. Well, he’d stayed out of her way after he brought over a glass of aipin juice and spilled some on her pile of Mische Pail.

  “I need sticky notes,” she declared.

  Mo’ata paused next to the kitchen counter as Forrest snorted from his art nook.

  “Sticky notes. Or something that I can use to attach my scraps to my piles.” She gestured to her paper carnage.

  “That is… quite an endeavor.”

  Blue nodded, proud of what she’d pulled together, though she still felt she was missing too much information. “It is.” She snatched a scrap that was half buried under the Petyr pile. “And this is what I’ve figured out so far, though I’m pretty sure you all figured it out a while ago. I mean, it is kind of obvious…” She trailed off as Mo’ata scanned her scribbled writing.

  “The university is the connection?” He cocked his head. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

  “I know, it’s pretty tenuous. But it was the only thing I could find that even remotely connected everyone. Also,” she continued, asking the question that had been on her mind since she’d started that afternoon. “Why are we on this assignment? If the Order has a whole drug unit, or whatever Levi’s new team is called, then why have a separate investigation?”

  Mo’ata shrugged at that. “The boss has his reasons, I’m sure.”

  “So, you don’t know either?”

  He sent her a look that made her feel about three feet tall.

  Then something new occurred to her. “The Order operates through all the worlds, right?”

  “Yes, of course.” Mo’ata picked up a few more of her scribbles, scanned them, and placed them right back where they’d been.

  “What happens if we track the culprit to another world?” What she left unspoken was: What if the guys had to leave her here? She didn’t want to be separated from them. Even having Felix gone for a ten-day was wearing on her, despite the check-in messages he sent.

  “Then we will reassess. I will either request another team be assigned, or we will see about a leave from your studies, though that would not be the preferred option. Both you and Forrest have too much to catch up on to afford delays in that department.” What he left unspoken was the possibility that Forrest would lose his scholarship and Blue would lose the loose tolerance of the Ministry.

  “Oh. Are we only on this because of Trev?”

  Mo’ata’s brow rose at Blue’s nickname for the Family head. “Possibly. Though the boss did hint that he had wanted Felix and me on this, except he knew you weren’t ready.”

  He said it so matter-of-factly it took her a moment to make the connection. And they weren’t leaving her to go off on assignments of their own.

  It unfolded before her, the way this would work when she was done with the Academy and Forrest at the university. Mo’ata was the team head. It was a role he fell into naturally. Blue would be the analyst, the information gatherer and sorter. The puzzle-piecer-togetherer. And the portal maker, because she was going to master the skill. Forrest would be in it as well, undercover like the rest of them. He would infiltrate the art world, but be renowned in his own right. Levi would continue on as an overt agent of the Order. Felix, well, Felix would have to continue his mercenary duties no doubt, but he’d figure out a way to stay here on Karran. Then, when the team needed it, Trev would step in and help out where he could, as long as it didn’t violate that weird sense of ethics he had.

  She saw exactly how it would work, how it could work, when she was done with school. And she’d be the reason they could all work together without blowing any of their covers, if they were just careful.

  She had a feeling that was the real reason the boss had said yes to her being a probationary agent. And she would take it because she liked that vision of them together.

  “But back to this,” Mo’ata said as he sank into the chair beside her. “Show me why you are thinking the university.”

  “It’s here.” She pulled out yet another sheet of paper, this one with columns of names, places, and multiple colors of lines connecting them. The first column was made up of the names of the known victims. Next to that was a list of places, those they had most recently frequented. The third column was an additional list of names. “These are the people our people had the most contact with, or the most recent contact. I didn’t have a lot on them, but I did what I could with the general access you gave me to the database.”

  Mo’ata nodded and gestured for her to continue.

  “I gave each victim their own color so I could better keep track.” She pointed to the lines going from the first column to the second, which then branched out to the third. Those in turn went back, connecting to the second column. “University” had the most lines.

  “Not all of the colors lead back to the university.”

  Blue huffed. “I know. I just don’t have enough yet. But look here.” She pointed again to the first person on the list, Ivan Jorrik. “This guy has a direct connection. A month ago he visited the university’s geology department. It doesn’t say for what, but I don’t know that it matters. The second guy, Mische, he’s never been to Karran. But”—she traced the faint green line to the third column—“his cousin Giran did a few months ago as the personal assistant for some merchant. And that merchant has a niece attending the university in their music program. Who’s to say they didn’t have a visit?”

  Mo’ata traced a few of the other connections with his finger. She knew what he was thinking. It was thin. Hell, she could probably trace everyone in the worlds back to the university given enough time and access to records. “Get me a report,” he said, startling her. “Every last scrap of what you found and where you found it. I’ll go ahead and forward the basics to the boss, and he can decide if he wants additional eyes looking for connections here.”

  Warmth filled her. He thought she’d found somet
hing. “There’s another thing. Again, not much, but they were all fairly ‘low-level.’ Petyr was barely holding on with his studies at the Academy, and he was falling behind with his portal exercises. Mische was a clerk, and Trev’s guy was some sort of junior assistant smuggler or something.”

  “There are many people with those types of positions.”

  “And I wouldn’t have even thought of it, except the girl with Sarah mentioned she needed whatever this was until she got the assignment she wanted after the assessments. Which implies she wouldn’t pass the assessments without it.”

  Mo’ata inclined his head, conceding the point. “That wasn’t in your original brief of the conversation.”

  His words were even, but Blue felt chastised nonetheless. “Crappity.”

  “You will learn.” He pointed at her. “Probationary agent, remember? It is my job to train you.”

  “Right.” Don’t need to be perfect right out of the gate, Blue. She’d just keep going, keep learning. That’s what a cheerful bulldozer did. “I’ll get that report done tonight. And make sure I put everything in it.”

  “No. It’s time for dinner, past time even, and you probably haven’t touched your studies in preparation for your classes tomorrow. Plus Zeynar will be here soon for a movie night. The formal report will wait for tomorrow.” He looked over the paper carnage, then grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Come, keep me company, and put this aside for a bit. We can also eat at the counter so as not to disturb your work.”

  “And it’s my night for dinner.” She’d forgotten, so caught up in sorting through the data.

  “Not tonight. If you feel you must, you may take one of my nights in a ten-day or so.” He pointed at a stool, and she sat.

  “It’s part of the deal. We all have our nights.”

  “And if you were not dealing with both your studies and helping us to analyze the data, I would agree.” He pulled out the cooking containers.

  She opened her mouth to protest once again, and paused. There was a tightness around his eyes, and the skin there was puffed, darker than it should be.