Broken Glass (Glass Complex Book 1)
Page 8
Steg fell silent. He was stunned as full understanding dawned. He had often observed the Acolytes and wondered at the empathy he had felt when watching them in their almost symbiotic relationship with the huge computer system known as Glass Complex. Perhaps this empathy came about as a result of an unsensed and unrealized ability to emulate them. He stopped the rush of conjecture and unanswerable questions, deferring further analysis until a time when he would be in direct contact with Acolytes who could provide answers. He returned his attention to his immediate problems.
*Althere Complex, I need new identity papers. Are you able to provide these?*
*Yes. Waiting instructions.*
Steg gave the necessary instructions, selecting and defining parameters for his new identity. Althere Complex would arrange production of everything from identity cards to shuttle license and for these to be delivered to his hotel. Even star ship certifications and academic records matching his own, would be prepared and copies inserted into local systems. He would need to rely on the reach of Glass Complex to ensure suitable records were inserted into remote source systems.
Then he remembered the fraudulent activities of the senior bank staff and entered details. *Advise Glass Complex of my activities here and of my discoveries.* He provided details.
*Completed.*
Steg raised his head from the desk. It had not been a soft cushion. He looked around, surprised his experience had not disturbed the calm of the small office. Tziksis still guarded the door. His papers were undisturbed. And stacks of glass data containers remained in place.
“Tziksis, I’m finished here. I’ll get that banker back and conclude our visit.” Steg used the comunit on the desk and within seconds the banker knocked on the door. His nervousness was hardly diminished by Steg’s assurance that he had all the data he required. The banker handed over a new credit stick and local currency that Steg had requested, the latter necessary to ensure his local expenditures could not be traced.
“Finally,” advised Steg. “I need letters of introduction—” He paused. “Are any official functions or ceremonies scheduled for the next few days, where officers from the Imperial Fleet are likely to attend?”
“W-why yes. We have many such occasions. Althere takes great pride in its Imperial functions and relationships with the Fleet. The civil functions are well known for their color and extravagances, for the dignitaries who attend. Why I remember one occasion—”
“Good. I need an invitation to the next one—when will it be?”
“Tomorrow evening. An invitation? But you—“
“But nothing. The bank undoubtedly has access to invitations? Excellent. You can arrange one for me, and ensure I am presented as a favored client of the bank, of some worth.”
******
Chapter 9
“Young master most colorful is,” clicked Tziksis as Steg checked his reflection.
“Yes, Tziksis. Your tailor friend is certainly doing good business. I only hope he is correct about the fashion and style of evening wear for tonight.” Steg swirled his new light blue cloak. “I feel like a colored target.” He grimaced as he examined the crisp white color of his trousers and jacket, contrasting with the deep orange shirt. He shook down his ruffled shirt cuffs and turned away from the mirror.
“Worry not, master youngness. Target not be. Attraction for young ladies is certain.”
“Tziksis, I could be a target tonight, so I want you to carry my weapons pack—Ebony plus whatever else you have acquired for me. You can act as bodyguard and come running if you hear my signal.”
“Signal, oh youthfulness?”
“Yes. Here, take this comunit and if it buzzes, track me down immediately, because I’ll need help. Understand? Otherwise I’ll call you when I need to leave.” Steg stowed his new identification and other documents in an inside jacket pocket.
“Tziksis understands and will arrive with all haste,” assured the little alien as he scrambled across the room to collect Ebony.
The hired aircar and driver were waiting to take them to the location of the evening’s function, the Imperial Governor’s official residence on Althere. Steg had decided small autocabs did not provide adequate protection and had arranged for a heavier vehicle, which, according to its owners, was capable of surviving a major assault. He hoped this somewhat ambitious claim would not be put to the test, at least not while he was a passenger. Because their destination was well out of the city and as the journey would take over an hour, he settled back and relaxed, absorbing only part of the commentary provided by the driver.
The aircar settled onto the small landing pad and then joined the stream of vehicles heading to the well-lit and obviously well-guarded entrance of their destination. Steg noted a considerable amount of air traffic that was cleared for descent directly into the vast grounds surrounding the Imperial Governor’s mansion. Apparently favored guests of the governor were able to by-pass the stop-start progression from the roadway. He mentally compared the resplendent building with those on Homeworld and realized the mansion was far larger than the turreted, rock-hewn castle that overlooked Castlehome.
Steg joined the throng of minor dignitaries and other guests who were wending their way up a series of carved marble steps to an ornate entrance. Security guards were posted along the rows of marble columns and unobtrusively checked each guest’s identity and invitation as they passed by. Steg could see cameras monitoring overall progress and relaxed when a guard waved him though after a brief consultation and validation process. As the crowd, a mixture of humans and aliens, chattered their way forward and into the reception hall, Steg was relieved to see the style and color of his attire was not outstanding amongst his fellow guests. He soon found a drink and moved to explore the huge room and its displays of art treasures before seeking out his target.
“Sir, your invitation please.”
The request broke his concentration. The Imperial Security Officer—a captain—was polite yet firm and his elaborate ceremonial uniform did not disguise his trained toughness. Steg patted his jacket pockets and produced his invitation and identity papers. These were carefully scrutinized and returned. “Thank you, sir. I have been instructed to ask you to proceed directly through the reception hall to room five in the Library wing.”
Steg hid his surprise and consternation. “Perhaps you could direct me?”
“Sir, rather than give you directions, I will accompany you.”
He followed the Imperial Security captain and grew more concerned as he observed a number of heads turning to watch his progress across the huge reception hall. Well, he thought, this is surely one way to not keep a low profile, following a ceremonially dressed officer across a crowded room, through a gathering of some five hundred guests. At least he was dressed for the occasion.
The captain led him out of the crowd and along a long wide corridor. Heavy carpet muffled their passing. The corridor was softly lit and small spotlights drew his attention to numerous paintings and other small works of art displayed along the walls. Under different circumstances he would have stopped to examine them but the captain did not slacken his pace and Steg was unable to catch more than tempting and transitory glimpses. For a brief moment he was reminded of Castlehome, of the small but valuable collection that adorned the main hall of the Castle. Eventually the officer halted outside a paneled and carved door. He knocked and opened it, motioning Steg forward. “Please enter, sir. I’ll leave you now.”
Steg obeyed the instruction and stepped into the room. The lights were very low and as he stopped to allow his eyes to adjust he heard the door click shut behind him. The far wall was ceiling to floor glass and he moved across the room and gazed out at the evening stars, so different to those visible on his home world, twinkling in their velvet setting. The external scene blanked out as the lights suddenly brightened.
“My lord, it does not charm a girl to be ignored in preference to the evening sky.”
This time Steg could not hide his star
t of surprise. He turned. “Ma’am?”
“Miss.”
The response was simple and assured. Steg looked closely at the speaker. She was most attractive, he thought, perhaps the most attractive young woman he had ever seen. Not beautiful, he decided, but definitively attractive. Her eyes were green and held a sparkle of humor. She was dressed in a deep red gown that touched the floor. Her jewelry matched her eyes. She turned the lights to a lower setting.
Steg bowed politely. “Miss. What can I do for you?”
“I think you should ask rather what I can do for you, Steg de Coeur?”
Steg kept his expression blank, hiding the sudden shock that her words generated. “Steg de Coeur?” he queried.
“Yes, my lord,” she smiled triumphantly. “I think your presence here is a little foolhardy. If I could find you, Imperial Security—the Imps—won’t be far behind. We must leave now, before they arrive.”
“Leave? Oh no, miss. I have a finely engraved genuine invitation to attend this grand display and I have no reason or desire to depart early.”
“You may not realize—the Imps have a full description of you, Steg de Coeur, and they say you are an outlaw. So all they need do is check as I did. I simply ran a program to see if anyone matching your image was here, tonight.” She indicated a workstation. “Then I waited until you presented your invitation and I asked an Imp captain to bring you to me. He thinks you are a friend and does not know the computer matched images.”
“Images?” Steg was concerned and moved closer to the young woman. “You are quick to name me—falsely—however you are mistaken. Now, who are you?”
She ignored his questions. “I know who you are. And you are in danger, I told you. I have been checking for weeks, just in case.” She stamped her foot. “We must get you away from here.”
Despite the circumstances, Steg was amused at her fiery display. “I am not going anywhere. I repeat, I am not—this person. Let’s prove it—show me the search program and image. Also, you can tell me who you are.” He moved to the workstation and indicated the young woman should join him. She did so, with obvious reluctance. He waited silently, forcing her to make a move.
“Oh, very well. Here, see.” She quickly and expertly keyed commands. “That file contains your image. And here is the identity check the Imps made when you entered my father’s official residence.” Her expression was of an obviously superior person explaining a self-evident fact to someone of lesser standing.
Steg was offhand. “Well, something doesn’t register.” He recalled the Glass Complex message. “Open the image file, and let’s check that.”
She raised her chin. “I know how to run programs. And the image is of Steg de Coeur.”
“May I see it? You brought me in here on this fantastic pretext—I think I should be able to see what caused this mistake.”
At the same time he was requesting to see the image, Steg was also communicating with the computer system.
*Althere Complex. This is Steg de Coeur. Respond please.*
*Althere Complex.* A wave of green light almost unsteadied him.
*A program was initiated from this workstation. It used an image in a search routine. Please substitute the Glass Complex-sourced image for that image file.*
*Executed.*
*Further instruction follows. Ensure image provided by Glass Complex is substituted for all images held in Althere Complex for Steg de Coeur.*
*Executed. Ninety-five substitutions carried out. No other images discovered.*
*Next instruction. If any operator attempts to use Steg de Coeur images or descriptions, please alert me. Also, ensure all image match processes entered for Steg de Coeur use the new image. Acknowledge.*
*Executed.*
He looked at the woman who was still regarding him with concern and said, “Please, open the image file—let’s see an end to this.”
She wilted. “All right.” She keyed in a brief instruction and as a result, an image was displayed on the viewscreen. It obviously was not Steg de Coeur. She looked at it in disbelief.
“What happened? How did you do that?” she whispered.
“What happened? Why, you opened an image file; however, not mine. End of story. You obviously made some kind of mistake.”
“Who are you?” She did not drop her gaze and Steg could almost see the rapid chase of thoughts, he could discern her growing apprehension.
“My name is Stephen Ross.”
“I—I think you frighten me, my lord.”
“That may be. Now, will you tell me—” Steg stopped speaking and wrapped his arms around the young woman, drew her close, and kissed her firmly. She was too surprised to struggle or object. The door swung open and the unheralded intruders turned the lights up to full intensity. In the moment before he released the girl, Steg noted they were two junior officers of the same regiment as the captain who had escorted him to this room. He ignored the flood of embarrassed color rising in his companion’s face.
“Yes? Do you often go around entering rooms unannounced? If so, I am surprised that you have not been taught better manners.” He frowned his displeasure at the two officers.
“My lord,” one of the intruders offered, “and my lady, please accept our apologies.”
The other officer had stepped forward, almost belligerently, at Steg’s sharp reprimand and was held back by his companion.
The first speaker continued. “We were checking rooms that we thought were unoccupied.”
“Your explanation—although barely adequate—is accepted. Now leave.”
The spokesman turned his attention to the young woman. “My lady?”
“Yes, your explanation is indeed puerile, and you may withdraw. Before I report your rudeness.”
The two intruders withdrew, closing the door as they turned away. Steg turned to his companion, his accusations unvoiced.
“They are Imps. Perhaps what they said was true, that they were just checking rooms.”
“Or else they had their suspicions raised?”
“Oh no, I didn’t—”
“So having me escorted across the reception hall did not raise anyone’s suspicions? Very well, it appears you have just earned the pleasure of my company for the remainder of the evening.”
“But—”
“No, you listen to me. You had me brought here in the most conspicuous way possible just because of your mistaken suspicions. It did not occur to you that you may have been in error. If I leave you now, and exit by myself, those bloodthirsty amateurs are going to try to challenge me, or worse, take me off to undergo some unnecessary questioning. I would end up so full of ‘scope and so deep in their dungeons I would not see daylight for years. And that will happen without guilt on my part—you know Imperial Security approach is to assume everyone is guilty.”
“I am sorry, you must believe me. I thought—oh, now I am so confused. Just who are you if you are not—and what did you do to the workstation—?” She broke off as Steg took her arm and led her towards the door.
“We need to leave here, and join the thronging guests. Before we leave, however, you had better tell me who you are—people will think it strange if I stay by your side for the evening, yet I do not even know your name.”
“I—I’m afraid to tell you—”
He articulated each word with measured care. “Tell me who you are—let’s start with your name.”
“I am called Lorraine, Lorraine of Jurian.”
“Jurian? And your home?”
“I live here on Althere.”
“That is not what I mean.”
“My homeworld is Denixx.”
“By the—” Steg swore. The banked flame of revenge flared and surged through him. He gripped her arm. “You are related to that murderous bitch—” He broke off as he saw realization dawn on her face. “Yes, if indeed de Coeur was my name, your life would now be in jeopardy. Convince me, Lorraine of Jurian, why I should permit you to leave this room alive.”
“We—the Jurian do not approve of her.”
“Ha!” he interrupted.
She met his stare, challenge replacing fear. She continued. “Yes, the Lady Gaetja is of the Jurian. We have not—do not condone or support her actions.”
“And this is reason for a de Coeur to forego revenge?”
“You need me alive in order to leave here safely,” she reminded, softly.
“Why do you think leaving here will be such a problem?”
Lorraine rubbed her arm as Steg released his grip. “You said it yourself. The Imps will be more than curious, especially if you are alone. If you are with me, they will not do anything.” She stopped, understanding the implication; if Steg left the room alone, it would be because she was indeed dead. She struggled to order her thoughts. “A de Coeur, here—at an Imperial function. Why, what are you after, what do you need?”
Her leap of intuition was impressive, thought Steg, as he silently saluted her presence of mind. He decided to offer her the truth, doubtful she would believe him and optimistic she would not give him away.
“Simply put—I want to meet with a Fleet officer—one Commodore Boston, of Fleet Commissariat, because I wish to buy a commission in the Imperial Fleet.” He paused at the startled, almost shocked expression on his companion’s face. “That surprises you?”
“You, a fugitive de Coeur—you want to enlist?”
“Why not? Again, I am not this—Steg de Coeur. My papers are genuine. I am who I claim to be. A candidate for a commission with the Fleet, and I can afford to purchase that commission. Junior level, admittedly, appropriate for my social station.”
“But they’ll discover who you are—”
“They may discover all kinds of things. However, I am confident that I will be accepted.”