Keltan's Gambit: Chronicles of the Orion Spur Book 2

by Michael Formichelli

  His eyebrow cocked upward. “She’s here?”

  “Circumstances demanded we remove her from Elmorus. I do not believe she will be happy about it.”

  He chuckled. “No, she won’t, but she is a Mitsugawa employee now. We made a deal.”

  “I know.”

  “I am glad things are all right, considering. Are you free of your obligations now?”

  “I have reported to the local biodome. Lalande and my father will hear of what we did in nine days when the transmission reaches Kosfanter,” Setha said.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Yes. Unless father calls, and until circumstances demand otherwise.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes. I could use your help. I have sixty days in which to tolerate my aunt’s regency. I have to prepare for problems with the Yulong Gongsi, the Confederation’s biggest energy supplier. I need to rebuild support in the Barony to move against Zalor, and the people currently occupying my room do not seem to have confidence in me. I’m fairly certain they are my cousins, and I may need their support in the near future. It would be easier with you at my side.”

  She blinked. “I am always at your side.”

  “I meant—” he stopped, knowing she knew already. “That is quite impressive. Can this ability be used on others? I mean, without your nanomachines in them?”

  “Yes, but it will take some time and training.”

  “I have time. You have the training. This would be a great asset.”

  She nodded. “I will show you.”

  Nero caressed his cheeks with his fingers. He almost couldn’t believe it, but for the first time since before Savorcha his face was smooth on both sides. Mitsugawa nanotechnology had done what years of standard nanomeds and Prospero could not. The artificial doctor explained that it was really a matter of cosmetic programming, but to him it was something miraculous. In a way it was a big step in a new direction, though the scars beneath the surface still remained. Paula Rega’s screams, and Kiertah’s sad, green eyes beyond the curving glass on the Zeus’ Thunder were still a part of him.

  A sticky wind, pregnant with sea spray, blew across the parade ground. He looked out from the shadow of the Akanda’s aft quarter at a cloud-speckled blue sky peppered with the large black forms of bird-like creatures. The parade ground was at one end of the huge fortress complex. Directly in front of him lay the Mitsugawa stronghold of Fuyūyōsai. It towered over the structures around it with eight distinct levels marked by their upward curving, square roofs. Each was smaller than the one below it, so that they looked like a stack of fancy, white boxes. Around its base was a wall punctuated with a guarded, covered gate. The whole thing looked old, but Nero knew that House Mitsugawa had a reputation for using cutting edge technology in everything it did. One would never know it to look at the building before him, though.

  Clutched between his fingers, his Abyssian’s long coat rested in his lap with the Eye in the Galaxy pin facing up. It felt heavy on his legs even though Taiumikai’s gravity was well within the human comfort zone. The Eye, in so far as he could remember, was a part of his life from the beginning. He was the servant of the master who the eye represented. That was the truth he knew. The truth some part of his brain wanted to cling to that was now in contradiction with the vision—or whatever it was. He could almost feel the hospital bed on his back when he thought of it. Being on the Zeus’ Thunder, he remembered that well—but as an Abyssian, not as a soldier. The medical bay was something apart from that experience, but it was too real in his mind to be some strange dream. There was only one place where he would get the answers for the questions plaguing his mind, and he feared he would never follow through and do it.

  You’re still an Abyssian, Prospero said into his thoughts. I’ve confirmed that status with Daedalus already through our Q-comm.

  Nero shook his head. “I don’t think you get it.”

  He forbade Prospero to ask the questions about his past in the first update to Daedalus. He felt he might not be ready for the answers, though soon perhaps, maybe after this mess was over he would be.

  I can ask at any time.

  “I said no. We have other things to concentrate on.”

  It won’t take but a moment. It’ll be too fast for you to even notice.

  And it would be a distraction he couldn’t afford. What if the soldier from his vision, Faen, was still alive? What if that Praetor Modulus had killed him? He was bound to seek the man out. If the man was alive, he could settle this whole conflict of who Nero was.

  I could ask now and tell you later. It would be a simple thing considering how much data is passing between myself and the central server right now.

  “Thanks, Prospero, but no. It must wait. Does Daedalus have a response about our situation? The evidence from the lab?”

  Not yet. Daedalus is curiously quiet, just absorbing the data stream I’m sending.

  “All right.”

  Khepria emerged from the gate and walked the hundred or so meters to where the ship rested. They were both back in their usual attire, he in black and she in her CSA uniform with its silver shoulders. The red braids trailing from between her ears canted to the side behind her as a gust of the briny wind caught them. Her eyes appeared as silver spheres set in the polarized mode she needed to comfortably see in the bright Taiumikai sun. Her tall ears rippled when she arrived before him.

  “How are you feeling, sir?”

  “I’m not your CO, Khepria. You don’t have to call me that.”

  She crouched down beside him, her long toe-fingers flexing against the ground. “You do not have to call me Khepria.” She inhaled. “Sorry, Nero. I thought some formality might cheer you up.”

  He squinted. “Why?”

  “Familiarity calms most species. Sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it. How is the merc commander?”

  “Commander Armstrong is recovering, but slowly. She is still in intensive care. Fortunately for her, the medical facilities here are top-shelf.”

  “Top-notch,” he corrected.

  “Yes, that. How are you?” Khepria asked.

  He sighed. “I’m in need of something.”

  She waited while he looked around, watching some Mitsugawa troops practice hand to hand combat in an area by one of the walls.

  “How about Prospero?” she asked.

  I’m fairing well, all things considered. Thank you, Agent Khepria.

  “You do not have to call me that, either.”

  Formalities are important among coworkers, Prospero responded. To answer the question I predict you are going to ask, no, I haven’t figured out what happened. I have no data stored after Qismat’s initial attack. It may be an artifact of having to load my OS from the backup. The data may be in another part of my system, but I’m still trying to clean up the corruption that seems to have occurred during the battle.

  “Sorry,” she said.

  There is no cause to be.

  “I’ll second that,” Nero added.

  Her ears twitched and she tilted her head up to look at the birds. “They are pretty.”

  Graceful, Prospero thought down the link.

  “I found something in the communication tower’s system during the battle on the roof. I checked it on my way over here,” she said.

  “What is it?”

  “The tracer program I put into the Elmorus system returned a hit on the Katozi Slynn.”

  Nero sat up straighter. That was the ship they suspected was the prime candidate for delivering Siren to the Brogh home world. “I thought you said that wouldn’t work.”

  “I did not think it would, but my program found some fragments of deleted data and put it together. The ship filed a flight plan with the Elmorus space traffic control network, possibly knowing it would take ages to process and get back to anyone who would care. Perhaps the captain was forced to file one as part of a deal, or by that vegetative life form we met. In any case, the Slynn’s stated destination was Zov.”

&
nbsp; “Zov? Why do I know that name?”

  “It is a VoQuana colony near the Cleebian border.”

  “No reason why I should know that except there’s something about that planet—” He thought for a moment, then gave up. “It doesn’t matter, really. We aren’t going there.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s a VoQuana world, and we know the VoQuana are working with Baron Revenant. It would be suicide to walk into that kind of situation.”

  Khepria bit her lip again. “If we get the Slynn’s captain, we might be able to tie all of this directly to House Revenant. Someone has to have given the captain the Siren nanoweapon, and someone must have paid him.”

  “True, but without an Abyssian we have no chance against the VoQuana. Hell, even with one—” he trailed off, thinking about his meeting with Sinuthros on Kosfanter.

  “You are an Abyssian.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “The truth of the matter is that I’m not sure anymore. I had a—ah—memory while you and Mamiya were monkeying in my head. I think it was real, and in it I was not an Abyssian.”

  “That is impossible. All Abyssians are produced, not created from preexisting biologicals.” Her ears spasmed.

  “And we know that, because?”

  “That is what Daedalus claims in the report on Abyssians he gave to the Premier’s office.”

  “And we know that because?” he repeated.

  “What?”

  “I mean, how do we know Daedalus isn’t lying?”

  “Nero, machines do not lie.”

  He paused for a moment, expecting Prospero to interject something. He didn’t.

  “Sure they do. Don’t forget that Daedalus was designed to win a war at all costs. You can’t do that without engaging in some kind of subterfuge. After the war it was given the purpose of protecting the Confederation, again at all costs. Under those circumstances tell me it wouldn’t lie.”

  “Oh.” She tilted her head down. “I did not think of that.”

  “I don’t know if I’m the only one like me, or if that was even a real memory. I don’t know if I had a life before or not, but I think I might have. I had a friend on the Zeus’ Thunder. I think his name was Faen, Sergeant Faen. If I had the guts I’d ask Prospero to look him up, but—”

  She stiffened, looking at him for a moment as though surprised. When she spoke it was with a quieter voice. “You mean if you had the courage? Nero, you are the courage-gut possessing—“ she paused, struggling with the Solan words. “You are—ah—you have them.”

  “I don’t know.” He shook his head, thinking her pause an odd reaction to his statement.

  “I can look him up for you if you think Setha is right, and we cannot trust Daedalus. There is a nine-day delay between here and—”

  What? Prospero projected alarm into Nero’s emotional state. What does she mean about Daedalus?

  “Don’t bother, that’s not my point.” He kneaded his hands together, ignoring Prospero. “I guess I’m not ready.”

  “Do you think you will be ready nine days from now? Eighteen?” She stared at him.

  “I don’t know.”

  “It will take nine days to reach the CSA network on Kosfanter, and who knows how long before we get a response. It will be at least another nine days for the message to come back here if headquarters responds right away. I can go ahead and do it while you figure it out.”

  I gave him the same offer. He’s not ready, Prospero said.

  Khepria took in a deep breath and let it out slow. “I did not think what Setha suggested was right before, but maybe she was. You should know about yourself. If you really are what you and she say, you should know for certain.”

  He shrugged.

  “Nero, I want to know.”

  “Why?” He scanned her eyes for an answer.

  She stared back at him, determined. It occurred to him that no matter what he said she would probably look Faen up anyway like she had with the Gaian transmission on Earth.

  “We shouldn’t let this distract from the mission. The important thing is we got off Elmorus and Prospero is back online, right? We should just get on with things.” He could tell his words were futile. She had that look. “We’ve got the Siren evidence, and Baron Mitsugawa’s people are tracing the equipment serial numbers now that we’re back in civilization. It’s enough.”

  “That will still take many days due to communications delays,” she said. “Baron Mitsugawa must show his evidence in person on the Barony floor or there will be some question about its validity. In matters of politics, presentation matters. That gives us a lot of down time.” She trailed off.

  “Presentation doesn’t matter to Abyssians. If he gets concrete evidence, I can just arrest the bastard,” Nero countered.

  “But your arrest will count for little if the evidence is not presented to the Barony for judgment. This is not going to be held in a normal court, this is a baron—the most powerful in the Confederation—and we are talking about trying him for war crimes and murder. Baron Mitsugawa must do this with us, and he must have the support of the other barons, or it will fail.”

  “Daedalus’ prosecutions have never failed before. Since when did you become an expert in politics.” He frowned, not meaning to be as harsh as he was.

  Her ears twitched.

  He sighed. “Sorry. I’m sure you’re right. I’m—tired.”

  She nodded, and to his gratitude, seemed to drop it. “Where do you think Qismat came from? She attacked us in the forest, and then Baron Mitsugawa at the spaceport while we were on the tower.”

  “What?”

  “Setha told me about it while you were in medical. Qismat tore the baron’s arm off.”

  “What?” he said, taking a moment to process what she said. “I have no idea where Qismat came from. Maybe Revenant sent her on ahead of us.”

  “Maybe,” she responded, but not like she meant it. She took several deep breaths. “I am going to look Faen up.”

  He sighed. “I know. I can’t stop you. I just don’t know why you would.”

  “Because,” she began, but stopped. Her ears were held straight up, stiff. He’d never seen her do that before. Her long-fingered hands clutched her arms with white knuckles.

  “What?” He leaned forward, meeting her gaze.

  “Nero, I want you to be okay.”

  He nodded, “I will be.”

  She trembled and looked away. After a moment her shoulders dropped as if putting down a heavy weight. “What are you going to do with that?” She pointed at his coat.

  “I’m not sure, but for the time being maybe I’ll keep it on the ship.”

  “Are you okay with that?” she transmitted, addressing Prospero.

  We have some things to work out, I see. So, yes, I suppose I am for now, Prospero responded.

  She gave one nod, then turned her gaze back up to the sea birds. Her hand twitched towards him, but after a moment settled on her own thigh.

  “This world is beautiful,” she said.

  “Yeah.” Nero nodded.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ikuzlu City, Kosfanter

  41:2:20 (J2400:3146)

  Cygni leaned against the wall of the shower, letting the hot water pulse against her skin in a staccato rhythm that drained some of the tension from her aching body—some, but not all. She waited until she hit the limit of the shower’s soothing powers and shut it down with her implant. Shkur was standing in the hallway, fully dressed for work in his military finery when she opened the door. The pink petals of his rose-like nose twitched.

  “Sorry I startled you, pupling. You’re taking longer every day.”

  She reached around the door frame to grab a towel off the wall-mounted rack.

  “You have been reeking of fear for the last week.” His yellow eyes narrowed. “What is going on? This is not like you.” He put his hands on his hips, glaring up at her like an irate parent.

  “I’m just having some trouble adjusting to th
e new job,” she said, feeling like shit inside as the lies poured from her mouth. She should tell him the truth, but he had already done enough for her, taken enough of a risk using the consulate system to learn more about Sinuthros. If she told him she was afraid of a VoQuana lurking in the shadows of her job, waiting for a chance to wipe her brain, she wasn’t sure what his overprotective streak would make him do. At best he’d be out a job, at worst—she didn’t want to think about it. No, this was something she had to suffer by herself.

  The petals of his nose twitched. “That’s not all it is. You have avoided talking to me about it.”

  She sighed, leaning back against the wall.

  “Are you sick? Do you need a hospital?” His long neck pouch twitched as he spoke the words.

  She thought about calling out sick, but it would be too suspicious. She was fairly certain the VoQuana would figure out why if she did that, and besides, in the age of nanotechnology no one called out sick unless they were on the way to the hospital with a life-threatening condition. She thought about revealing what she knew, taking the recordings to Ax’xoa, but rejected that idea as well. She hadn’t really done enough research about what was going on, and someone as politically adroit as Baron Revenant could always come up with some plausible excuse for virtually anything. If she was going to have any chance at all she was going to have to get something truly damning. The only thing she could do was muster her courage and keep going to work hoping that today would not be the day Sinuthros turned up in her office to rewrite who she was.

  “I’m not sick, just overworked.” She forced her body off the wall and started to dry herself.

  “You haven’t smelled right in days—”

  “Let it go.” She moved past him into the bedroom and dug around in the piles of clothes strewn about what little space there was between the bed and the walls. She heard him move into the doorway behind her, but he didn’t speak until she stepped into her corporate jumpsuit and held the seams together across her chest to let the smartfabric stitch itself closed.

  “If there is something bothering you at work you should tell me.”