This Bloody Game

by Dan Schiro

  “Sorry buddy, but you’re gonna have to put all your endangered species angst on the shelf for now.” Orion grabbed the big man by the elbow. “Draper,” he hissed at him.

  “Who?” Kangor said, his huge nostrils twitching quizzically.

  “Draper Jalathea, the reporter.” Orion waited a moment to see if a light would go on. “The s’zone reporter, the one who wanted a word with Zo about workers’ rights?”

  “Oh, yes.” Kangor shrugged. “What of him?”

  Orion lowered his voice even further. “He’s Dawnstar.”

  “How can you know?”

  “Because he’s the guy we’re looking for,” Orion whispered. “Draper Jalathea is an anagram for Rahjal Deepatra.” He glanced around to see if anyone was watching them. “My guess, it’s a code to sleeper agents in the Fleet.”

  Kangor snorted. “Draper who?”

  “Remember our little conversation with the reanimated corpse? That was the name he gave us, his superior who ordered the hit on Zovaco.”

  Kangor’s furry eyebrows twitched. “But an anagram? Is that… perhaps a bit… flimsy?”

  “Look, I have a feeling,” Orion snapped. “He tried to get close to Zovaco on the walk to the stage, and I think he was ready to try something.”

  “I see,” Kangor snorted as his muscles tensed. “How should we proceed, little friend? I could show him to an airlock.”

  Orion thought for a moment and watched Zovaco pour pinkish tea from a large cup to a medium cup to a small cup. The politician took a synchronized sip from the small cup with the six admirals. “You just stay close to Zo,” Orion said when he looked back up at his beastly friend. “I’ll head down into the crowd and alert AD and Merv, get things moving.”

  Kangor shook his long head. “Mervyn of Claddaghsplough has returned to the Star Sentry. He said he was feeling ill.”

  Orion’s eyes went wide. “Of course he is.” Finally Draper’s awkward attempt at a handshake with Zovaco made sense. He turned on a heel and started for the stairs.

  “What is it?” Kangor called after him.

  “Eyes on Zo,” he hissed back over one shoulder.

  Orion descended from the stage and shouldered his way through the tipsy crowd to find a quiet alcove along the wall. When he had a little space to breathe, he pulled out his datacube and contacted Costigan. “Hey buddy — Reddpenning knows a bit of chemistry, right?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Costigan said through what sounded like a mouthful of food. “She’s a regular savant.”

  “Good.” Orion paused for a moment to list it out in his head. “I’m going to need a mix of Flunitrazepam and Bremelanotide with a dopamine enhancer in a concentrated liquid form, enough to affect a 150-pound, carbon-based organic without incapacitating.” Luckily for Orion, most of the galaxy’s major, carbon-based organic life forms shared similar biochemistry. “You get that?”

  Costigan cleared his throat. “Is that really necessary? The Collective Fleet has a very progressive stance on prostitution, you know.”

  “Come on, Cos,” Orion scoffed, a little insulted by his friend’s casual assumption. “I might lie and showboat and scheme to get women in bed, but come on — you know me better than that. I’d never pay a penny for it, and I’d never, ever, go there.”

  “All right, whatever you say, OG,” he laughed. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah.” Orion squinted at the ballroom floor, trying to spot his target in the crowd. “Get Mervyn to the med bay immediately.”

  “The old ape?” Costigan said after a moment. “Why?”

  “It might look like a cold coming on,” Orion said, hoping he wasn’t already too late, “but he’ll be dead in a few days. He’s been poisoned.”

  Orion stuffed his datacube away. He waded out into the crowd and soon found Aurelia near the back bar. The Exile was laughing brightly as fawning creatures surrounded her, the androgynous beings fascinated by a little-seen Lady of the Jade Way. Aurelia tipped back her heady purple drink and politely excused herself when she noticed the look in Orion’s eyes. After just a few words, she understood the situation, their new cover story and Orion’s plan. Then, with nothing to do but wait until his parcel arrived from the Star Sentry, Orion started working the crowd and looking for the terrorist playing newsman.

  Orion mingled, and as usual, he mingled well. If there was one thing his misspent youth had taught him, it was how to navigate a party. He moved smoothly from a gathering by a rippling gelatinous sculpture to a conversation next to the ballroom’s central fountain. As he wound his way back to the long, smoky-glass bar, he learned a lot about the Collective Fleet. Everyone at the party save the servants belonged to the upper ranks of the Collective Fleet’s dense caste system. He met a military general, a mantis-like creature decked in the jewels of his commendations, who commanded a vast collection of warships that had been with the Fleet longer than humans had been using electricity. A mostly cybernetic creature with a vaguely female shape owned a dozen manufacturing ships, and a willowy, pea-green being who had spliced chlorophyll into his genes owned the Fleet’s most productive bubble garden. Orion moved through the crowd for an hour before he saw Draper Jalathea, or very likely Rahjal Deepatra, in a corner of the ballroom. The thin s’zone stood with a small crowd but apart, sipping a glass of water. His round eyes were intent on a marshmallow-skinned creature no higher than Orion’s waist who played the bright white disk of a symphonic spinner.

  “AD,” Orion said into his datacube.

  “Here,” she said after a moment.

  Orion kept his voice low and shrouded his lips with his hand. “Back by the musician.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “Remember,” Orion said sharply before she could close the audio link. “If he asked why we walked in with Zovaco, we’re part of the UDCPA.”

  “The...?” she said after a pause.

  “The Union Diversity Committee for Promotion of the Arts,” Orion snapped. “It’s not that much to remember, AD.”

  “Yes, yes.” He could hear her dry chuckle on the other end. “Spreading intercultural goodwill and collecting examples of the unique artistic expressions of diverse peoples and blah blah blah. It certainly sounds boring enough to diffuse any further question.” The link closed with a click.

  Orion wandered away, back into the crowd that milled about the smooth floor. Some short minutes later, his datacube buzzed with a message from Costigan that said his “medication” was ready for pick-up. Orion hurried out of the ballroom, snuck through a busy kitchen thick with exotic scents and slipped into an unattended service lift. After using his illegally modified datacube to hijack the elevator’s secure terminal, he rode down to the hangar bay where they had first docked. Reddpenning waited for him in the airlock, her black braid hanging long and heavy over one shoulder.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing with this,” she said, a frown creasing her flinty-yet-fair face. She held up a thin vial of clear fluid corked at one end. “This is potent stuff, not some party drug.”

  “Trust me, Red,” he said, nabbing it between his gloved fingers. “I’ve ridden crazier trains than this one.”

  Her face melted to a half-smile and she shrugged. “Cos said you were a wild one back in school. And that’s something, coming from him.”

  Orion swooped in and kissed her cheek before she could dodge. Then, as fast as he had absconded from the High Admiral’s Ball, he returned the same way. Zovaco was still hard at work in the penultimate stage of the tea ceremony, Kangor standing guard a few paces behind him. The rest of the party seemed as jovial and relaxed as when he had left. Orion wound his way through the crowd again and discovered his plan already in motion. Draper had stayed put watching the stout bio-mod playing the symphonic spinner, and now Aurelia Deon stood beside him. For a few moments Orion hung back, listening to them talk.

  “Really?�
� said Aurelia, a cloying sweetness in her voice. “I’ve always found the s’zone to be such delightful lovers. Are you sure you won’t reconsider?”

  “Good lady, please,” Draper said with a note of chagrin. “You must understand me. Even though an invitation from a Lady of the Jade Way is as flattering as it is… perplexing, I cannot.” His dingy yellow speckles flushed a bit darker. “It is a matter of my faith.”

  Aurelia tipped her head to one side, smiling warmly. “And which faith is that?”

  “That is not important,” said Draper with a shake of his hairless head. “Now, if you would like to speak of music again…” He shot a nod at the marshmallow-skinned creature with the bright symphonic spinner between his short fingers. “But if you will not be satisfied…”

  Orion thought it sounded like he had arrived just in time. Palming the thin vial in his left hand, he barged in between them, jostling both. “Oh, Aurelia, I was looking for you,” he said loudly, doing his best impression of a drunken moron. “And here you are!”

  “Clod,” scoffed Draper as he stumbled forward, his glass of water splashing in his hand. “Watch where you’re going.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, so sorry, my friend,” said Orion as he spun, jostling Draper again as he patted at the water spots on so-called reporter’s suit. “Getchya wet, did I?”

  Draper turned his glossy yellow eyes to Aurelia. “Do you know this… this… just what are you?”

  “Human,” said Aurelia.

  “And proud of it,” Orion added with a broad smile.

  “Yes, well you’re interrupting,” spat Draper.

  “It’s I who should apologize,” said Aurelia. “He’s part of my diversity committee, after all. But what he lacks in manners he makes up for in his keen eye for appraisals.” She smiled apologetically at Draper. “What is it, Orion?”

  Orion kept up his inebriated facade. “I’ve been ‘talking’ with one of the High Admirals’ life-mates all night,” he said with a drinking motion. “I think she’s finally ready to sell the Diamante-Krull piece. You know, the piece.” He smirked. “I’ve talked her down, but she’s not parting with it for a hair less than 500,000 UC.”

  “Very well,” Aurelia sneered. “I suppose you’ve earned your finder’s fee. Tell her I’ll meet her price, and have the sculpture loaded to the ship. Now be gone.” She added a little flick of her green fingertips that almost stung Orion’s pride, despite the fact that it was all part of their act.

  As he scurried away, back to the main ballroom floor, Orion slipped the empty glass vial into a pocket of his fine red tunic. Now he just had to wait for the s’zone to take a few more sips of his water. Orion stepped behind a pillar banded with precious metals and strained his ears to hear Aurelia and “Draper.” He could only make out a few words over the one-man symphony that had been increasing in pace as the Admiral’s tea ceremony neared its conclusion.

  “…feel strange… hot… tingly…”

  “…perhaps… music is moving… faith can’t…”

  “…no… but…”

  “…slip away… balcony…”

  Orion smiled, hearing exactly what he wanted to hear. Peeking out from behind the pillar, he saw Aurelia leading Draper away from the musician and toward a staircase that swept up to the ballroom’s second level. He followed them with his usual confident stride, up the staircase and into a kaleidoscopic hallway hung with luminescent tapestries. There Orion found Aurelia pinning Draper against the wall, kissing him while he wriggled like a fish out of water. Orion cleared his throat.

  “Took your damn time,” Aurelia said, breaking away from the s’zone’s thin lips and holding him to the wall with one hand.

  “Time for wha?” slurred Draper, his huge eyes blinking languidly.

  Orion flexed his right hand and forced the spellblade out. He took a few long steps down the hall as the silver gauntlet enveloped his arm to the elbow, its red veins still bright from the life force of the hit squad that had come after them on Corvis Stoat. Aurelia stepped aside smoothly when he reached them, and Orion closed his armored fingers around the s’zone’s slender throat. “Here’s what’s going to happen — you’re going to answer my questions, Rahjal Deepatra.”

  The s’zone’s face contorted with fear at the sound of the name — probably a lack of inhibition due to his drugged state — and Orion knew he had been right. “How… no…” he stuttered. “I… Dragon Nebula News…” With his spidery right hand, the s’zone reached for Orion’s face.

  Orion caught the clumsy attack with his left hand and slammed Rahjal’s arm against the wall. Only then did he see the tiny pin nested in the base of his palm, a glittering point in the baleful neon light of the tapestries. “Is this what you stuck my man Mervyn with?” Orion snarled. With a grunt, he lifted Rahjal off his feet, squeezed his neck and banged his head against the wall. “Why does Dawnstar want to kill Zovaco Ralli? Who’s pulling your strings, huh?”

  “I’m just a reporter,” screeched Rahjal, earning an A for effort as impaired as he was. “Dragon Muse, Dragon News…”

  Aurelia sighed and held up a fingertip sizzling with bright green fire. “Want me to burn him?”

  Orion thought about it for a moment, but he worried about the noise carrying out over the balconies and down to the ballroom floor. “Don’t lower yourself like that,” he told Aurelia as the veins etched in the surface of his gauntlet pulsed. “I’ve got this.” There was only one word that would do the job. “Truth.”

  White light twinkled in the dark wells of the s’zone’s eyes, and the lanky humanoid stopped struggling against Orion’s grip. His face slackened, and his large, round eyes looked sober and calm, if not a bit entranced. Almost all of the color drained from Orion’s gauntlet — it seemed as though truth was a costly thing to ask for.

  “Now,” Orion said, his voice sharp as a sword. “What is your name, your real name?”

  “Rahjal of the Deepatra enclave,” the terrorist mole answered without hesitation. “Servant of the Luminous Path.”

  “And why does Dawnstar want to kill Zovaco Ralli?”

  A slight smile curved the s’zone’s long lips. “Because the Kalifa of Light demands it, of course.”

  “Obviously!” Orion slammed him against the wall with another jerk. “But why does the Kalifa of Light want Zovaco dead?”

  “The Kalifa serves the Luminous Path,” Rahjal mused, unaffected by Orion’s aggression. “As the reincarnation of the Prophet Who First Walked the Path, His will that it should be done is reason enough.”

  “Another stooge,” Aurelia sighed. “He knows nothing, Orion.”

  Orion shot his friend a quick glance and decided to try another tact. “Rahjal, where is the Kalifa of Light?”

  “Here with the Collective Fleet,” he said mildly. “What better place to hide than amid this floating heathen junkyard?”

  Orion’s mismatched eyes went wide. “Really? I don’t suppose you could tell me which ship in particular so I could go kill him?”

  “Of course. Our sleeper cell aboard the cargo freighter Ray Runner 12 has provided a very hospitable base in the Fleet.” Rahjal seemed to think for a moment and shook his hairless head. “But you won’t be able to kill him, I’m afraid.”

  Orion frowned. The s’zone clearly perceived this to be the truth. “Why so sure?”

  “Because the time for mercy has passed.” Sadness twitched at the edges of Rahjal’s mouth. “I was an envoy of the Kalifa’s grace, sent to take the politician with the prick of a pin. No harm would have come to the innocents around him.”

  “And now?” Orion squeezed the man’s thin neck a little tighter. “What have you done?”

  “I have failed,” he strained. “And so the Kalifa has unleashed the Dark Spacers.”

  Aurelia threw back her head and laughed. “That’s absurd. I personally sent the last of them to hell
over 700 years ago.” She glanced at Orion. “There are no Dark Spacers, not anymore. Perhaps your spell has gone sour.”

  Orion wasn’t so sure. He could still feel the charge in the air, the influence flowing between the silver that ensconced his arm and the man he held against the wall. Yet before he could ask anything more, an impact shook the ancient generation ship. Orion heard the distant scream of tearing metal and the roaring vacuum of space as something punched through the outer hull.

  “The Dark Spacers are coming,” gasped Rahjal.

  Chapter 14

  Dozens of alien screams rose in the ballroom below the hall, and Orion knocked Rahjal unconscious with a single blow to the temple. “Come on,” he hissed at Aurelia as the s’zone man fell to the floor and slumped against the wall.

  The two of them bolted down the hallway, past the incandescent tapestries and through heavy curtains, bursting out onto the nearest balcony. The crowded ballroom floor had become a writhing panic of bio-modified bodies. Alarms blared, the huge glowglobes flickered, and an automated voice droned a warning in galactic standard over the PA system. “Hull puncture detected. Please remain in your safe-sealed area. Hull puncture detected. Please remain in your…” Then the Dark Spacers blasted through the wall.

  The hulking creatures looked surprisingly nimble as they bounded in, every bit the boogeymen Orion had read about in the galactic database. Their bipedal, vaguely insectoid bodies were covered in matte-black exoskeletons that reminded Orion of a beetle’s plates. Each had two yellow eyes glowing with intense inner fire and a curious set of four arms. Two long, thick arms with monstrous claws slashed through cowering flesh and hurled broken bodies into the air. Two smaller arms beneath those ended in nimble digits that held slimy-skinned, techno-organic rifles. Yellow heat pulsed through the wet umbilical cords that tethered the weapons to the users’ plated torsos as they fired bolts of biochemical fire into the crowd.

  “By the Jade Way,” gasped Aurelia when she saw them. “I didn’t think it was possible… but…” She seemed to freeze, aghast as she looked down on the carnage.