“I don’t think even the President could afford a place like this,” Bellows said. “My mom says she wouldn’t live in this neighborhood even if we could afford it, because it’s such a target-rich environment for thieves.”
“Meaning Frank has galaxy-class alarm systems?”
“Everyone here does. Why?”
“How will you get around it?” He hadn’t brought any gear that she could see.
“I’m hoping I won’t need to. They can’t have the system turned on when two hundred people are coming and going.”
“You’re ho—” She stopped when a silver-haired couple walked too close. Grabbing Bellows by his upper arm, she hustled him off the path to a decorative bench and lowered her voice. “You’re hoping? What are you playing at? You’re supposed to be the professional here; I’m just getting you in. Please tell me you have a plan.”
“I have a plan,” he said, frowning. “I’ve been in this house before. I know where his office is. You just need to circulate and be seen and draw attention. I’ll do the rest.”
She focused in, looking for the lie or at least the weakness, but he stood straight under her examination. With a sigh, she turned back to the path. “Let’s just get this done.”
The fundraiser was exactly as dull as she anticipated. After six months in Gov Dome, she had far too much experience with political gatherings and knew what was expected of her. So she wandered through the crowds scattered throughout several rooms on two floors, told sterilized war stories, and chuckled at jokes that were not remotely amusing. Occasionally she would stumble upon a guest who could make witty conversation, and there she would stay for as long as she could, until another call of “Captain Serrado!” rang out and she was forced to turn and smile at someone else.
Upon moving into a secondary parlor, she was intrigued to find a display case of weaponry covering the entire width of the back wall. One of Elin Frank’s companies manufactured weapons, often contracting with Fleet, but it appeared his interest ran deeper than mere production. The display housed a museum-quality collection dating back centuries. It even included an ancient leadslinger, along with eight of the original ammunition cartridges. That weapon alone was probably worth six months of her salary.
In between inane conversations, she worked her way along the length of the display, marveling at the quality of the pieces and the beauty of their presentation. Whomever Frank had hired to put this together was an artist. There was even a sword at the far end, elegantly held by transparent—
She stopped. That was an Alsean sword. A very fancy one, with a jewel-encrusted grip and an intricately etched blade, clearly not meant for actual use. But it was a thing of beauty and made the weapon next to it—a squat, bulky blaster-style gun she had never seen before—look crude and slightly repellent by comparison.
“I see you’ve found my Alsean souvenir,” said a voice next to her. Elin Frank held out his hand. “Welcome to my home, Captain Serrado. It’s a pleasure to meet the only other person in Gov Dome who understands the difficulties of working with overly sensitive aliens.”
What an asshead. She was going to remember that introduction so she could quote it to Andira on their next quantum com call.
“They certainly don’t share our values, do they?” she asked guilelessly. “I found myself having to be far more honest than normal.”
He paused for a moment, his thin eyebrows doing a short dance on his high forehead. “I found that they took offense quite easily.”
“Really? That’s surprising. I shouted at the war council, lectured them even, and was informed afterwards that they respected me more for it. I could only conclude that they don’t take offense at the way information is conveyed so much as whether that information is true or not.” She sipped her lime fizz to keep her smile contained. It was her standard drink at events like this, easily passed off as alcoholic.
“You lectured their war council? And they didn’t find that arrogant?”
“Lancer Tal said that arrogance itself is not an issue as long as it comes from genuine ability.” This was both a lie and shameless name-dropping, but she couldn’t help herself. Besides, she could see Andira saying something like that.
“Ah, yes, Lancer Tal,” he said, swirling his drink. “An interesting woman, quite advanced for her culture. We spoke frequently, of course.”
Name-dropping met and raised, Ekatya thought. And also a lie. At least her lie had been believable.
“A very interesting woman,” she said. “I learned a great deal from her during my short stay. Did she give you a tour of the State House?”
“Ah…no, I believe she wished to but was called away. The Prime Scholar took me around. Lovely craftwork in that building; reminded me of some of the older houses of worship in the Galay Empire.”
“Oh, I’m sorry you weren’t able to get the personal tour. We were fascinated by all of the stories she told. It was hard to believe we spent over two hours simply wandering around the building with her.”
One of his eyebrows tried to escape the other. “She’s a capable politician. It was a smart move, ingratiating herself with you to get your cooperation.”
“You might think that, and I certainly expected that sort of manipulation, because it’s the sort of thing we would do, isn’t it? But the Alseans aren’t us. That tour was really between Lancer Tal and Dr. Rivers. I just hung about on the edges while Dr. Rivers took notes and asked about everything from the tapestries to the wood carvings to the age of the benches in the Council chamber. I thought Lancer Tal would surely run out of answers or at least patience, but she seemed to have a limitless supply of both.”
“Patience, hm.” He sipped his drink. “I suppose she had more time when you were there, before the treaty was signed and she had so much more on her desk.”
“You mean while she was planning an all-out war to save her planet? She had no time at all. To this day I can’t think of any reason but one for the courtesy she extended us. She was fascinated by the first aliens to reach her planet and wanted to learn all she could about us. I’m sure she was equally forthcoming with you.”
She really had to stop this. Their conversation was barely rising to the maturity level of teenagers, and she was enjoying it far too much. Turning to the display case, she said, “It’s a beautiful sword. Did you collect it for the artistry of the grip or the engineering of the blade assembly?”
That led to a discussion of Alsean weapons and engineering, after which Frank pointed to the ugly blaster and said with visible pride, “This is my latest. We based it on the Alsean molecular disruptors. They may have been primitive, but they had extremely impressive stopping power. Fleet rejected it, though. Said it was too limited.” He looked at her hopefully. “Would you like to take one to the range and try it out? With your recommendation, I might get Fleet to reconsider.”
“I don’t have anything to do with procurement, Mr. Frank. My opinion would only be a personal one, and these days I’m not certain even that is worth much.”
“Surely you underestimate the prestige your name brings, Captain. I know not everyone was pleased with your actions at Alsea, but you’re still a hero to a great number of people.”
Not the right people, she thought as she deflected both his praise and his request. The last thing she wanted to do was take an Alsean-inspired blaster onto a shooting range. Sholokhov would probably learn about it in four minutes flat and have her in his office one minute after that.
“Ah, well. Can’t blame a businessman for trying to conduct business even at a fundraiser.” Frank gave her an apologetic smile. “Your lovely Dr. Rivers is making quite a name for herself as well. It seems one can’t turn around without seeing her in another interview. I must say I enjoyed that round table discussion with Minister Gazenfar last week. I half-expected the two of them to set the table on fire with the looks they were giving each other.”
“Gazenfar always sounds like he wants to set things on fire. His party is built on xenophobia; it’s not a surprise that he’s beating the drum of paranoia about the Alseans. He beats that drum about anyone not born and raised in the core worlds.”
“But these days his drum is being heard. Last year, the Defenders of the Protectorate were a joke. Today they have nearly forty seats in the Assembly. They’re a growing power. It would be a mistake not to take them seriously.”
“Forty seats is still less than five percent. They’ll have to grow a lot more before they qualify as anything other than an extremist fringe party.” And Lhyn had destroyed Gazenfar in their debate; the headlines had all been in agreement the next day.
“I think they have the potential to do just that.” Frank took a healthy swallow from his glass and smacked his lips appreciatively. “Gazenfar might have found his issue this time. You and I know the truth about the Alseans, and Dr. Rivers is doing her best, but the average citizen is, shall we say, data-challenged. They don’t want to learn about cultural nuances and Alsean law. What they know is that the Alseans massacred the Voloth with their minds and now they’re going to be integrating into the Protectorate. That scares people.”
“I agree, but those are the same people who kick up the dirt every time we bring a new planet into the Protectorate. There will always be people who don’t want to share.”
“Mm.” He drained the remainder of his drink and set the glass on a passing waiter’s tray. “The question is how many voters will listen to those people. Seems to me that Gazenfar and the DOP are capturing far more ears these days.”
Another guest bent on gaining Frank’s ear gave Ekatya the excuse to bow out. She slipped away, wondering where Bellows had gotten off to and how long it could possibly take to jack the data from a computer system. But they had agreed on gray mode until he contacted her, so she refrained from calling.
It took another hour of circulating and drinking far too many lime fizzes before she finally heard a soft double-click in her head. An incoming voice call was being routed from her pad to her internal com and now waited for acknowledgment. The pad’s feminine voice—with an accent from Allendohan, Lhyn’s little joke gift—informed her that the caller was Ensign Bellows.
“Serrado,” she said.
“Captain.” Ensign Bellows was whispering. “I’ve run into a little problem.”
Ekatya began walking toward a corner that was momentarily free of people. “What is it?”
“Well, I got the data…but, um…I’m locked in the office.”
She stopped walking. “You’re what? How in all the purple planets—” With a glance around, she lowered her voice and infused it with all of her annoyance. “What happened?”
“Frank came in. Thank the Seeders he was talking to someone before he opened the door, or I would have been sitting there in plain sight.”
“So you hid…”
“Yes, behind the sofa by the window. For twenty minutes.” His tone made it clear that those twenty minutes had actually been a year and a half. “And then he turned out the lights and left…and he locked the door.”
Ekatya pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why are you not simply overriding the lock from inside?”
“Because it doesn’t work! I tried, believe me! The panel inside isn’t the same as the one outside; it doesn’t have the access ports.”
He was highly stressed and more than a little frightened. Ekatya frowned. This didn’t sound like the product of training in covert ops. It sounded like a fresh ensign getting in over his head.
“Captain, please. I don’t know how I’m going to get out. If Frank finds me in here…” His breathing was becoming rapid.
“Ensign Bellows,” Ekatya said in the quietest tone she could manage. “I need you to calm down and give me information. Where exactly is the office?”
“It’s, um…” He swallowed. “Third floor. North and east corner.”
“How many windows?”
“Ah…” She heard the sound of shuffling. “Big one here behind the sofa. Another one on the north wall. Doors, actually. Sliding glass doors.”
“I assume the big one is on the east wall, then.” She looked around, checking her space, and saw no one within hearing range. This would be so much easier in a private place, but at a party this size, there was no chance that she could lock herself in a bathroom.
“Yes, sorry, east wall.”
She had been in a room on the second floor’s northeast corner. Part of the party crowd was up there. There was a balcony, as she recalled, looking out over the beautifully landscaped backyard. It had a low lip and an ornate metal railing, which had been crowded by people leaning on it as they conversed.
“Is there a balcony outside of either window?”
More shuffling.
“Yes. Both of them. A big one on the east and a smaller one on the north.”
“Wait. And keep the com open.”
“I will.”
His breathing was in her ear as she walked out of the crowded room, careful to keep her pace to a party stroll. With smiles and nods to various people she passed, she made her way up the stairs and into the second-floor corner room, then got caught in a short conversation before she could edge over to the north window. It was half the size of the east windows and had not been opened for party attendees to enjoy its small balcony. Nevertheless, there was a couple out on it, taking advantage of the privacy afforded by the location and the sheer curtain somewhat blocking the view from the room.
She sighed, edged into an open space away from anyone who could overhear, and murmured, “You’re going to have to climb down onto the second-floor balcony. North side.”
“I’m what? I can’t do that!”
“Your alternative is waiting until Frank lets you out in the morning.”
Panicked breathing.
“Ensign Bellows, you’ve been through academy training. You are physically capable of doing this. It’s no harder than the obstacle course. You will simply climb over the railing, let yourself down so you’re hanging by your hands from the bottom, and then swing in so that when you let go, you land on the balcony below. I will clear that balcony for you and I will be waiting to assist. Do you understand?”
All she heard was his breathing. She was about to say something else when he finally swallowed and managed a quiet yes.
“Good. Give me a moment. Keep the com open.”
She sipped her drink, then tugged her pad out of her sleeve, held it up in front of her face as if to ascertain the video caller, and shook her head. Setting her drink on the nearest table, she made a beeline for the north window, this time in her full captain-on-the-bridge stride. Without pausing, she yanked open the door.
The couple on the balcony sprang apart. Older woman, younger man, almost certainly an affair. Perfect.
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” she said, offering a smile as she held the pad near her chest. “But I must take this call; it’s very important. And classified. If you wouldn’t mind…?”
They couldn’t get off the balcony quickly enough, muttering that it was fine and they were just enjoying the view. She nearly laughed as she slid the door shut behind them.
“We’re as private as we’re going to get, Ensign. Now is the time.”
“Seeders save me,” Bellows said softly.
She heard the door above her open. It didn’t close again.
“Ensign. Don’t forget the door.”
“Shit! I mean…” The door slid shut. “Sorry, Captain.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve heard it before. Just get down here.”
She held out her pad and began pacing back and forth in front of the window, making it look as if she were on a call in case anyone peeked out. Rustles of fabric and a few metallic clangs kept her informed of Bellows’s progress.
<
br /> “I’m on the outside of the railing,” he whispered. “But…”
“No buts. Obstacle course, Ensign. Now.”
One booted leg dropped into view. For several seconds, nothing else happened.
Ekatya was just about to order him again when he grunted and let himself hang by his hands. At full extension, his feet were still half a meter above and outside the top of her railing. He looked down at her, his eyes wide with terror.
She cut the call and put away her pad. “You’re very close,” she said in a normal tone of voice. “Give yourself a little momentum, then swing in and let go. I’ll help if you need it.”
“Okay,” he gasped, and looked up at his hands. With a little grunt, he swung slightly inward, then out again, his legs dangling over a twelve-meter drop. Another swing inward and he let go.
His legs would land inside the railing, but his body was angled too far. Ekatya caught him around the hips and pulled back with all her strength, providing just enough power to bounce his spine off the top of the railing and land them both in a heap on the balcony.
“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, curling into a fetal position. “Oh, fuck, that hurt.”
He must be in pain, she thought. He wasn’t even apologizing for the language.
“I’m sorry,” she said, crouching next to him. “I lied about the obstacle course.”
He groaned again. “Fantastic.”
“If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have made the jump.” She laid a hand on his shoulder. “And you did a fine job. Can you stand?”
“Tomorrow, sure.”
She smiled. “You don’t work for Sholokhov, do you?”
He finally uncurled enough to look at her. “I told you that.”
“You did, but truth and honesty are not exactly common currency in that building. I apologize, Ensign. I didn’t believe you.”
“Do you believe me now?”
“Either you’re telling me the truth, or you were willing to risk significant injury just to convince me of something that’s not very important. So yes, I believe you now.”
Catalyst Page 12
