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

by Michael Formichelli

  She frowned and snatched it out of his hand. “Don’t wreck the moment for me.”

  “Do you have to go out tonight?” He handed her the garment.

  She nodded, feeling guilty, but knowing she didn’t want him involved. “We’re building up to this big interplanetary campaign, and I’ve got to go meet my team and plot our strategy.”

  “Do you need a bodyguard?”

  More than you know. “No, darling. You stay here tonight. I’ll see you when I get in.”

  Shkur took a deep breath with his jaws akimbo.

  “What is it?”

  “Ambassador Shef needs me back at the consulate tonight. I only have a few hours before I have to go back. Can you put off work for an hour or two?” Shkur’s ears flopped downward to the sides of his head.

  “Is something else wrong?” The way he was looking at her gave her a chill.

  “No, I shouldn’t involve you.”

  “Now you have to.” She frowned, crossing her arms before her chest.

  “It’s nothing, really.”

  “Obviously not.”

  “Solan woman, you can’t let this go, can you?”

  “You brought it up.” Now she was very worried. This wasn’t like him.

  He clutched his fist with his other hand and paced back and forth for a few seconds before turning back towards her.

  “Pupling, I do not want you to feel negative about this.”

  “But?”

  “But Ambassador Shef has overstepped himself. He is insisting that his interview with you was unsatisfactory. He wants me to bring you by the consulate so that he can conclude it.”

  Her eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

  “No. This is a grave matter. Things have become uncomfortable for me. He is threatening to transfer me back to Nyangari space if I do not comply.”

  She nodded, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “Shkur, I’m sorry. This is my fault.”

  “No, it is not.”

  “I’m the one that insisted on going to the Queen Gaia. This was the price. I shouldn’t have—“

  Shkur cut her off with a hand placed on hers. “You are who you are, pupling. You would have been miserable if you could not go with us. I knew the circumstances you were in. We could not have done other than we did, and now you have a new job with more rank than before. Things have worked out.”

  “But they haven’t. This thing between you and the Ambassador—“

  “I have a choice.” He looked to the side.

  That made her nervous. “What is it?”

  “I can bring you in, or I can be transferred, or I can challenge him.”

  She swallowed, her mouth going dry. If Shkur challenged the Ambassador it would be a fight. Nyangari settled issues of rank and command with feats of wit or violence. After seeing the ambassador with his own guard on the way back from the spaceport, she could guess which one it would be. If Shkur lost, he would be killed. She couldn’t bear it if that happened.

  “I’m not worth it.”

  “Yes, you are, pupling. The Ambassador’s price was too high to begin with. He should have been satisfied with what he got. If I win, I will be Ambassador until Home Command can send a replacement. My rank will increase as well. I can claim rights of victory and stay here with you.”

  She reached up, pressing her fingers along his jaw line. “Shkur, you are one of the sweetest men I have ever been with, but I’m not worth this risk.”

  “Accepting his conditions will shame me.”

  She stiffened. She hadn’t thought that this was a possibility when she pushed him to ask for her place on the Queen Gaia. Did she really have to be on that ship? She had thought so at the time, but now—

  “You’ve made up your mind already?” she asked.

  “There was no real choice in this, pupling.”

  She nodded. “When will this happen?”

  “I will issue my formal challenge to him tonight. After, there will be a period of preparation and ritual. I will not be by for some time. I will need to concentrate, prepare myself free of distraction, but I know you will want to be there for the challenge.”

  She nodded. “I have to be. This is over me. Shkur, I’m so sorry.”

  “Do not be. Now, pupling, let us forget about it.”

  She looked at him. How could she now? He might die, and it would be her fault.

  “I mean it pupling. Let us enjoy each other tonight, while we can.” He stared up at her with large, yellow eyes.

  She felt her heart flutter. “Oh, that’s not fair.”

  She messaged Sanul, “Going to be late,” then put her hands on the sides of Shkur’s head just above where his throat-sack met his neck. She opened her mouth to say something, but he grabbed her arms and pulled her onto the bed with him.

  “Enough talk,” he said, and kissed her.

  A moment later she gave in and let him take her away to a world without thought.

  Cygni reclined in the taxicab’s polymer seat on her way to the bathhouse when her implant chimed. She ignored it for a moment, watching lights in the towers of the Solan Ghetto pass by through the window, thinking about Shkur, and Biren, and the possibilities of what might happen. When she noted the incoming message CPAd, her heart skipped a beat and she accepted the call.

  Pawqlan? The feed was audio only for some reason.

  “Cygni, I’m glad you picked up.” Pawqlan’s voice was still deep and still male. “I have that information you wanted about Baroness Altair’s daughter.”

  She sat up. Do you know who she is?

  “Don’t get excited, I don’t know that much. She definitely exists, though. I’m still working on where she is, exactly.”

  We already know she exists, Pawqlan. You have to give me something new.

  “Well, how about a name? I have one, but I’m not going to tell you over a comm.”

  What? Why not? This was ridiculous. There was no reason why Pawqlan shouldn’t project his digital-incarnation image as he always did when contacting her, and no reason not to say the name if he was using the ‘Herald’s secure servers to relay the feed. Why are you on audio-only?

  “Because of where I am right now, I don’t want to risk a broadband transmission.”

  What? Where in the Void are you, Pawqlan?

  “AgroWorlds Corp Tower.”

  She was speechless. That was Baroness Altair’s barony, her corporate headquarters, and her home on Kosfanter. What the hell was Pawqlan doing there?

  You’re going to blow this, Pawqlan. You shouldn’t be there. She shouldn’t know we’re looking. By the Matre, I never should have asked you for this.

  “I’m not going to let you steal this from me. If you want the information, you come down here and meet me to get it.”

  Meet you? Have you lost your mind? What gave you the idea to go to the tower without consulting me first? Cygni slammed her fist against the taxicab door. The Galaenean’s inexperience was going to screw it all up.

  “I found out enough to confront Baroness Altair. She’ll have to tell us about her daughter now. Get your Solan butt over here, or I’m not going to tell you what I learn. You’ll have to read about it in the ‘Herald tomorrow.”

  “Don’t you dare!” she shouted. She was panting hard and struggled to regain her composure. The day she was outmaneuvered by that two-bit idiot gossip—she stopped herself, realizing it was more than her pride at stake. If Pawqlan somehow made Baroness Altair suspicious enough to start looking into why some reporter just showed up in the middle of the night talking about her secret daughter, it could lead back to Cygni and expose the whole investigation.

  Void take you, Pawqlan! I’ll be right there. Don’t do anything!

  “Come right up to the penthouse. I’ve already told the baroness to expect you.”

  For several moments, all Cygni could do was breath in hard, rasping breaths. You’ve already announced yourself? Does she know why you’re there yet?

  —Oh you idiot, you
damned idiot, Pawqlan, she thought to herself.

  “No, but I told her that you’re coming to interview her. I’m sorry, Cygni, but I couldn’t let you take the biggest story of my life from me.”

  I’m not going to take the story from you. We agreed on that! You’re a damn gossip columnist, Pawqlan, not a— she stopped herself. This wasn’t helping. Fine, I’ll be right there.

  She cut the connection without waiting for a response, directed the cab to take her to AgroWorlds Corp, and messaged Sanul again to cancel the meeting. The taxicab swung around, rising up higher into the sky and headed towards the Business District. During the trip she alternated between fuming rage and outright panic. She might have just gotten herself killed by being stupid enough to think she could trust Pawqlan with this one, simple task. It was unimaginable that asking a gossip columnist to do a little tabloid research would end in such a disaster.

  What the hell was he thinking?

  The AgroWorlds Corporate tower appeared ahead through the taxicab’s windshield. The slender column had a wide base, and rose above the local skyline with a parabolic taper culminating in a narrow, flat-headed point. Resting on top of the apex like a diamond on the end of a wand was a glass and polymer structure that looked to be part-greenhouse and part-mansion. The greenhouse was made of huge, carbon-glass panes set in an old fashioned metal frame. Just beneath she could make out the leaves of strange plants cluttered beneath the glass, reminding her of the Gaian biodome.

  Her implant received an incoming transmission, pulling her attention from the tower. The CPAd belonged to Giselle.

  “Is everything okay?” Her ghostly image appeared seated in the cab beside her.

  I’m fine, just need to check out something. I’ll fill you in later, okay? I gotta go.

  Giselle’s face distorted into a look of concern. “Do you need backup? Sanul and I can come meet you. Where are you going?”

  For a moment she considered calling them in, but that would only make things worse with Baroness Altair. If she had any hope of salvaging this it would have to be on her own.

  Don’t worry about it. I’ll contact you after. She cut the link and Giselle’s digital incarnation vanished.

  The taxicab brought her to a platform just a few meters away from a set of transparent doors in the large, east-facing wall of the greenhouse. She had her implant pay the cab’s A.I., and got out into the chilly night air. She looked around the platform, pulling the hem of her form-fitting jumper down to her knees, but only saw the lights of the city reflected in the dark windows before her.

  “Pawqlan?” she shouted, shivering.

  The doors slid aside, and wisps of steam formed in the open doorway. She approached keeping her eyes in motion the entire time. Even with her low-light enhancement the interior of the greenhouse remained obscured by the dense foliage of the plants within.

  “Pawqlan? Baroness?” She called from the doorway’s edge.

  “We’re in here, Cygni.” Pawqlan’s voice responded from somewhere inside.

  Damn you, she thought, activating her implant’s record function. The last thing she wanted to do was wander into a dark greenhouse obliged to interview a Baroness who could get her and her friends killed. Pawqlan was going to pay for this.

  She took an angry step forward into hot air heavy with the smell of soil and the mustiness of fungi.

  The doors slid shut behind her.

  She pushed ahead, following a space between the foliage that wound its way to and fro, not as an intentional path, but something that was more organic in origin. Waxy leaves whipped at her face and whispered against her clothing as she moved through the clutter of living things. Every step made her more annoyed to be here than the last, and she drew strength from her anger, using it to press on.

  She rounded a corner and ran into a marble statue of a boy with feathery wings seated on a pedestal. She almost shrieked, half expecting it to animate and grab her after being around Baron Revenant’s menagerie of artificials. Several moments later she breathed a sigh of relief until she noticed one, strange detail. There was a dark scarf tied around the child’s throat like a noose bound tight with a large knot. In the shadows cast by the plants and the shifting city light, it looked like it was dark crimson.

  Who would tie a scarf around a statue? She shook her head and moved forward. Barons were crazy.

  The heat was oppressive, and she was sweating by the time the plants gave way to a small clearing. Sitting in a high-backed dining chair at the far side of the open space, dressed in a bright orange and black jumpsuit, was Pawqlan. Cygni took a step towards him, ready to unleash a torrent of blistering words when something stopped her.

  His skin, which even in the dim light should have been a mottled collection of the colors he wore, was ashen-gray. His silver eyes were wide, pleading, and he was squirming in his seat in the manner of someone who was bound.

  “What the—” The floor seemed to shift beneath her feet as a wave of dizziness unlike any she had ever felt before dropped her to her knees. Colors flashed in her vision, and a ringing din filled her ears. Her sight blurred, and when it refocused she was staring at a pair of gray legs. She followed them up the gaunt, humanoid form to the tear-drop shaped head and its huge, black eyes.

  “Good evening, Cygni. We’ve been waiting for you,” Sinuthros said.

  Oh fuck.

  Chapter Twenty

  Fuyūyōsai, Taiumikai

  41:2:28 (J2400:3156)

  “I fear our Cylus has fallen into Zalor’s trap,” Sophi’s ghostly image said from above the yellow tatami mat. “When we agreed to this plan we both thought Cylus would be smarter than to fall for Pasqualina’s wiles, but we were wrong. The impossible has happened. She seduced him into the Will of our enemy, and now Zalor will make him a puppet Premier. This is a disaster. Cylus can no longer be trusted. We need to revise our plan. Get in touch with me.”

  The image faded into the new symbol for the Elthroa Staffing Corp., and then vanished. Ichiro received the message along with a slew of news from Kosfanter. Sophi’s ascension to the status of baroness at the head of the Elthroa Staffing Corporation was a surprise. As they planned before he left Kosfanter, she defected to the Mercantile Party with Cylus, and that was good, but this miscalculation with Pasqualina Olivaar was a problem. He had some reservations about Sophi’s plan before, but this—he shook his head. They should have waited, reconsolidated power with the other barons first, or not relied on Cylus, who Ichiro knew was weak-willed. He never imagined this would happen. It was a betrayal of his father, and of Cylus’ own father as well. He didn’t want to believe it.

  Could Sophi be mistaken about Cylus? He doubted it. She was reserved, and manipulative, but rarely wrong. The only communication he received from Cylus in the download was a brief request for contact. He would like to respond, but now it might not be such a good idea. After such a long delay on Elmorus it might tip off either Revenant, who he was sure was monitoring Cylus’ communications, or Pasqualina that he hadn’t been on Taiumikai the whole time. If anyone looked into it they would find the Musashi-maru was not yet in the system, and that might alert his enemies to his plans. He couldn’t risk it.

  “What is it?” Setha whispered from the futon behind him. Deep shadows shrouded the corners of the room in the pre-dawn hours. The faint glow from the moon spilled a shifting, blue-green light across the floor from the bedroom window. It made the skin between her tattoos glow like she was a human jigsaw puzzle.

  He opened his mouth to tell her but said nothing and looked down at the small, green rings of her glowing irises instead. He concentrated on the spot deep in his sternum where she nested that part of herself four years ago. Since they first spoke of training she had taught him more about how the alien nanomachines reacted to emotions, and how they could be conditioned to react to human thought. He wasn’t at that point yet, and probably wouldn’t be for a long time, but the martial training he was given from the time he was able to stand helped acc
elerate his control. The mental discipline required was not the issue, it was getting the alien nanomachines to speak his language, or maybe it was the other way around, he wasn’t sure. They warmed to his will, heating him from his waist to his shoulders.

  “Now relax, let the information come to you,” Setha whispered.

  “I’m not trying to get information, I want to give it.”

  “Can you control them enough to do that?” she asked.

  He concentrated, trying to will his thoughts into that wall of heat in his chest.

  “No, I don’t think so,” he said. “But you are amused?”

  “Something like that. You are making good progress.”

  “Not good enough,” he said.

  Her nostrils flared when she snorted. “What do you want to tell me?”

  “Do you know Cylus Keltan?”

  “Your step-cousin? I only know he helped your father.”

  “I’ve just received a message. He and my sister have switched parties. It is part of her plan to go after Revenant, but he’s made her a baroness.”

  “This is the daughter of Baroness Cronus?”

  “Her niece.”

  “Continue,” Setha said.

  He nodded. “Now that she has a barony I shudder to think what she may do with it, but there is a bigger issue. Sophi claims Cylus has fallen to his cousin’s seduction and will soon be under Zalor’s control.”

  “How big of a threat is he?” she asked.

  “He is nearly as powerful as Revenant. This could be the end of our defiance, or worse.” Ichiro frowned. “I just can’t believe Cylus would work with Baron Revenant.”

  “Can’t or don’t want to believe?” she asked.

  “The latter. He hasn’t been the same since his family died. He lost his will to resist in his grief. What Sophi claims is possible, but she could be lying.”

  Setha sat up and pressed her body into his back. “Why would she lie?”

  “I don’t know. She idolizes her father, but I can’t see her betraying us. He threw her away. We are her family. Maybe she isn’t lying. Maybe I just don’t want to think the worst of Cylus. He was almost like an older brother to me when I was growing up, but that person is gone.”