“On the way,” she said. “Thank you.”
He smacked her shoulders hard enough to bring pain and put a little kick into her heart. She leaned back, taking his head with one hand between his pointed ears and kissed him on his three lips. His eyes lit up.
“I’ll be back.”
She slipped out from under the covers and in a few steps crossed the room and the hallway into the water-closet. The door shut, and with a thought transmitted to the apartment computer, warm, pulsing water struck her bare skin from nozzles placed in the chamber’s walls and ceiling. She turned her body in the streams, letting them wash the sweat away and banish the fear-chill from her dream. After a few minutes her brain started to function at something approaching a normal level again.
Poor Baron Keltan, his family was killed, his mind violated, and now this. The nozzles switched from spraying water to spraying body-cleanser, interrupting her thoughts with a hiss of foam. She scrubbed herself down with her fingertips, massaging her scalp beneath the wet mane of black hair, and let her mind resume its musings. She felt the need to do something right now to help him. His artificial seemed competent on the Queen Gaia, perhaps if she tried to see him, to tell him what happened to his master then maybe there was a chance it would make a difference.
Maybe, but with Baron Keltan under the influence of the VoQuana, is his servant really going to be helpful? She asked herself that question three times before it occurred to her there was a discrepancy in her line of thinking. Baron Revenant was working with the VoQuana, that much was proven by the recording she made in Baroness Altair’s suite. The Baroness was too, of course, but if whatever Sinuthros did to Baron Keltan brought him over to their side, why would Baron Revenant attack him like that? There would have been no need. Therefore, she concluded, he must not be under the influence of the VoQuana. What the hell did that one do to him, then? And how does that fit in with his becoming the next Premier?
She didn’t have an answer, but it might do some good if she went to Keltan Tower and tried to warn him. Of course, that meant putting herself further down the dark well of Baron Revenant’s depraved plans, but the more she thought on it, the more it felt like the right thing to do. She was, after all, Cygni Lau Aragón, and this was the story of the millennium.
Resolved to go to Keltan Tower as soon as possible, she turned her mind to the next major part of the puzzle. From the conversation she recorded on the Queen Gaia it was obvious that Sinuthros was working with Baron Revenant on some elaborate plot involving this “Siren” thing. He didn’t need the VoQuana to make a weapon, though, so what could the baron’s goals concerning the VoQuana actually be? The obvious advantage of having an allegedly telepathic species—Cygni thought of what happened to Baron Keltan and decided they were telepathic—at one’s disposal was balanced by the risks. Not only would Baron Revenant have to be constantly on guard against intrusion into his own mind, but this particular species was so dangerous it took an AI and a legion of machines to contain them. She couldn’t imagine someone as smart as Baron Revenant courting the disaster that would result from letting them out of their cages. What possible goal could drive him to something so dangerous as to allow them out?
She let the question sit in her head, consciously willing herself to blank her mind by concentrating on the touch of her fingers massaging the soap into her skin. It was a technique she learned a few years ago, a way to let her mind relax and make the connections she couldn’t force to happen with her conscious mind. The sound of popping bubbles filled her ears and the distant clicking of Shkur’s light snoring—he must have gone back to sleep—swirled around her and faded into the background.
Baron Revenant planned to make Baron Keltan the next Premier despite their antagonism. The Barony elected the Premier from among their own ranks. With Mitsugawa Yoji’s death and the passing of the War Act, Baron Revenant now had enough control over that governmental body that he could pretty much direct it as he saw fit. The sympathy Baron Keltan had across the Confederation would guarantee his almost unopposed election to the office. She would not consider Baron Revenant to be the type to want to rule the Confederation, but as a puppet master from behind the scenes it made more sense. Maybe the VoQuana fit in on that angle. Maybe they would assist him in running things from the shadows in return for—something.
She shook her head, not wanting to contemplate so dark a thought without further proof. That left her with the question of how this VoQuana in particular was helping Baron Revenant. Maybe he was attached to a diplomatic envoy. If that was the case he would be based out of the VoQuana embassy in the Diplomatic District.
“Shkur?” She shouted when the shower moved into its rinse cycle. She gave him a minute before opening the door and shouting again. Water splashed off her body and rained down on the polymer floor of the hallway while she waited for a response.
“I am trying to sleep, pupling. Are you okay?” She saw his head appear over the foot of the bed, through the bedroom doorway. “You are getting the floor wet.”
“Never mind that.” She waved a hand in the air, splashing out more water. “I just had an idea. Is there a way to look up the identities of diplomatic personnel? I mean, a way to search for someone tied to another sovereignty?”
He ran his thick, four-digit hands over his eyes and flattened his pointed, jackal-like ears. He yawned, his mouth stretching open nearly half-a-meter down to his waistline. “The embassies keep a database of personnel files. All of them have to be registered with the Confederate Office of Interstellar Affairs.”
“That’s not something the general public can access, right?”
“Pupling, stop talking and finish your shower. You will flood your apartment.”
She pouted, but he was right. Closing the door, she let the cycle finish with a whirlwind of warm, drying air, and moved back into the bedroom tracking wet footprints. Shkur was still lying in bed.
“Well?” She said.
He looked over at the window and she followed his gaze. The sky was just starting to lighten on the horizon beyond the purple shimmer of the city’s aegis field. When he looked back at her his eyes lit up.
“Coming to bed I hope?”
She frowned. “No, I have to get ready for—“ She looked down at herself, then at the rising tent in the sheet over Shkur’s midsection. “No time love, I have to go.”
He let out a series of clicks—Nyangari disappointment—then answered her question. “The list is closed to the general public, but it is something other diplomats can access.”
“Like Ambassador Shef?”
“Or his security detail.” His tongue slid out of the side of his mouth.
Cygni grinned and pounced on Shkur’s prone body, assaulting him with kisses up and down his jaws.
“Don’t play,” he said, hoisting her off of him despite her half-meter height advantage. “Who is this diplomat of yours?”
“Well,” she said, bringing the image to mind calmed her enthusiasm. “He’s a VoQuana, and his name is Sinuthros.”
Cygni spotted the black air-car resting on the fastcrete street when she stepped out of her lobby. A Volgoth wearing the Cosmos Corp uniform leaned against it and bowed his horned head to her.
“Sanul Mondu, right?” She walked over to him.
“At your service, ma’am,” he said in a slurred accent with one, four-fingered hand over his chest. “I hope you don’t mind, but I thought I might drive you in today.”
“Ah,” she nodded, resisting the urge to frown. She was intent on going to Keltan Tower before work this morning. Sanul’s offer, though sweet, was going to interfere in her mission. “Look, thank you but—“
“But you weren’t planning on going in just yet? Ha! I win.” His eyes gleamed.
“Win?”
“The bet, with Ila. I bet nium that you were not the type to appreciate showing up early. I know, you see, because I’m like you.”
“You are?”
“Ah, obviously not the same species, but I mea
n I don’t like showing up any earlier than I have to. I’m right about you, right?”
She frowned. “You’re here now, and it’s early.”
“Ah, well, um, I mean—“
“Forget it. Look, I have an errand to run and—“
“I’m happy to take you wherever you want.” He drummed the hood of the car with his four fingers.
“Right. Well, it’s just that what I’m going to do is private, so if you would just meet me at the office it would be better.” She held her breath, hoping that it would get him to leave her alone.
“And you’re going to take a public taxi to where you’re going I assume? You know those things can be tracked after the fact? If you’re going to go do something you don’t want others to know about, you can’t take public transit.”
She sighed. He was right. She hadn’t thought that anyone would bother to track her—except that what I’m doing has to do with barons and their power games, and what happened last night, and a VoQuana, and an attempt to take over the Confederation—Jeez, what is wrong with me? Of course they’re going to track me.
“How would I go about the city without being tracked?” she asked.
Sanul lit up. “Come right along ma’am. I’m happy to take you, and I’ve already disabled the location capabilities of this vehicle. I don’t like being watched either.”
“How will we get to where we’re going without the automated navigation system?”
“I’ll steer.” He gave her a big, crystal-toothed smile.
She smiled back. Hadn’t he hacked that taxi cab yesterday in a feat that was supposed to be impossible? It was true that his landing wasn’t so good, but the wind around Revenant Tower was pretty rough, so maybe he was better in calmer air. Besides, her only alternative now was to walk since he pointed out the folly of taking public transportation. She was starting to think her initial intuition about him yesterday—that his skills would prove valuable to her for her investigation—was right.
“Okay, you win.” She got into the passenger compartment.
“My pleasure, ma’am.” A moment after she shut the door he took off. The car swayed to one side for a moment before he got it under control and moving forward. “So, where to?”
“Keltan Securities Tower.” She waited for his reaction, noticing a strange, leafy smell in the air of the cab.
“Huh, I wouldn’t have guessed that.” He glanced over his shoulder at her with his big, geode-like eyes. His crystal horns scraped the car’s roof as he turned back towards the windshield. She felt the car accelerate, pressing her back into the soft polymer seat.
Shkur’s message code popped up in her field of view, and she accepted the transmission.
“Your VoQuana is a Maskhim for the VoQuana Remnant. That is a kind of government agent or law enforcement officer. His visa is sponsored by the embassy as part of their on-site staff.”
You accessed the network from the apartment? She felt a cold hand grip her stomach. Diplomatic inquiries were traceable, and carefully watched.
“I accessed my consulate’s network from my implant, then made the inquiry. I’m not a novice, pupling. I’m security for the Ambassador.”
I’m sorry about doubting you, my darling, but this is scary stuff.
“Don’t worry, pupling. I’ll protect you,” he said into her thoughts.
She rolled her eyes, happy he couldn’t see her. Shkur was sweet, but sometimes he didn’t seem to realize the scale of the trouble he was walking into. Against barons and VoQuana no one short of an Abyssian could protect her.
Shkur, thank you for your help. I mean it.
“Good, I am glad you are pleased. Now, I am going back to bed.”
Sleep well, sweetie. She cut the connection.
She watched the towers speed by out the car window while she began a trace on Sinuthros’ name and likeness, making sure to use the Spur Herald’s servers to mask her CPAd.
“That was really something back at the Palace of the Just yesterday, wasn’t it?” Sanul asked. “I never thought in a billion years I would be so close to the Premier of the Confederation.”
Her stomach twitched. The last thing she wanted to talk about was the Palace. She wasn’t in the mood for this conversation, though she realized Sanul didn’t deserve her ire. He was energetic about working for her, for whatever reason, and he seemed sensitive. She had dated his kind before and knew she had to wear kid-gloves until earning his trust or risk driving him away. It was funny how the more annoying male quirks seemed the same across species. It was like having a dick either made them all too sensitive or too brash without any middle ground between.
“How old are you Sanul? I mean, relatively speaking?” she asked to keep her mind off of what she was about to do.
“Fourteen space years, ma’am.”
“Space years” was slang for Confederate Standard Years since only people who lived long periods of their lives in space, and those composing official Confederate documents, actually used them. Most just used the local year of the planet they lived on, or measured age by their planet of origin’s calendar. By her implant’s converter, that made Sanul about twenty-four in Earth years. She had to access the Cyberweb to find out what life stage that put him in for his species.
“You’re still young,” she said.
“I’m a full adult for my species.”
“Please don’t take offense. I meant that explains your energy; it’s a nice thing.”
“Oh, thank you. How old are you, ma’am?”
“Not that much older than you,” she said.
His head titled to the side as much as his horns would allow in the tight confines of the car. “Are Solan females sensitive about their age?”
“Some are.” It mystified her as to why. Thanks to nanotechnology, Solans could live to twice the amount of time that their ancestors did before the Drowning. There were even rumors that some barons had special antisene nanomachines that extended their lives out to thousands of years in theory, but she hadn’t heard of anyone confirming that. The average Solan could live to over a hundred-and-fifty, and she just didn’t see what the big deal was admitting to one’s age if a woman was still under seventy-five—and yet there were those who would die before doing it.
“Are you?” Sanul asked.
“I’m thirty-one, um, that’s Earth years.”
“So, about eighteen in space years,” Sanul said in a cheerful tone.
She smiled “I guess I am.” She rolled her eyes, thinking about how she was flattered, and how that made her as silly as the women she criticized. “Sanul, can I ask you a personal question?”
He snorted, it was a deeper and wetter sound than Solans made.
“I didn’t mean to offend.”
“You didn’t, ma’am. You can ask me anything you like. I’m your employee.”
“Thank you, Sanul, but that doesn’t give me the right to just trample all over your life. There are some things I still have to ask for.”
He gave her a meaningful look. “Please ask me, ma’am.”
“What is a Volgoth doing working for an Isinari company?”
“The Confederate Labor Freedom Act gives me the right—”
“No, I meant why are you working for Elthroa?”
“Ah, that.” He fell silent for a few moments. It was long enough that she began to feel guilty for asking. “Well, I guess because they bought me.”
“I’m sorry?” She couldn’t believe her ears.
“They bought me from the Orgnan Khargs when I was a boy.”
“Slavery is illegal in the Confederation.” She scowled, knowing from personal experience that the law didn’t actually stop it. The Orgnan Empire’s economy rested on slavery despite access to robotics and thinking machines. They were always willing to set up underground networks in Confederate space—though mostly on the wilder border worlds where enforcement of anti-slavery laws was not very strong. There was always someone willing to take another being’s freedom
for profit, she supposed, but it was shocking to see it here in the heart of the Confederation.
Sanul shifted his weight, grinding his crystal teeth together with a clicking sound. “Forgive me for saying so, ma’am, but I’m glad I was purchased. The Volgoth home world is in Orgnan space, and the only chance most of us have is if someone in your Confederation breaks the law.”
“I’m sorry, Sanul. I didn’t mean to offend you—and I’m not used to this ma’am stuff. In fact, I don’t think I ever will be. Please just call me Cygni.”
“That’s not protocol—”
“Cygni,” she said.
“Heh, okay. Fuck protocol! Cygni it is.”
She smiled, but it faded when the monolith of Keltan Securities Tower came into view. The building was constructed as a four-sided column twisted around its long axis so that the corners swept upward in long arcs. The seven-pointed star of Keltan Securities was prominent on each side of the huge building at the top of its decorative polysteel latticework.
“Should I request landing clearance, or are we going in through the street?”
She hesitated, but realized that in either case it wouldn’t be Baron Keltan answering. “Go ahead and request landing clearance.”
“Okay.”
“Wait, patch me in.” A moment later her cerebral computer’s UI displayed the connection status in her field of view. She channeled her thoughts into the device’s link. This is Cygni Aragón requesting an audience with Baron Keltan’s personal aide. I’d like permission to land on one of the upper levels.
“Are you expected?” The response came in the pleasant male voice she remembered belonged to Baron Keltan’s artificial servant.
Is this Ben? If so, I’d like to speak to you about an urgent matter.
“I am the tower’s A.I., but in a manner of speaking yes, I am also Ben. Miss Aragón, you are on the list of banned persons. Please redirect your car and head away immediately.”
Banned? What the hell? She ground her teeth together.
“You were banned after Baron Keltan returned from the Queen Gaia. As an iteration of the Ben network, I am well aware of what you tried to do in the Keltan suite aboard that vessel. Please desist in your attempts to approach the tower and find business elsewhere.”
Keltan's Gambit: Chronicles of the Orion Spur Book 2 Page 25
