by M. D. Cooper
“It’s all the trials and hearings,” Sera replied. “Every part of our lives is under a microscope right now. Between the federal courts, The Hand’s tribunals, and the civil suits, I feel like I might be in court for the rest of my life. Was Airtha always this litigious?”
Elena polished off her drink and signaled the waiter for another. “I don’t have a fucking clue. I guess we never got messed up in stuff at this level before—well, I mean we were at this level, but we never screwed up at this level.”
“Speak for yourself. I didn’t screw up,” Sera replied with mock haughtiness, then frowned. “Well, unless you count trusting Mark.”
“I always told you he wasn’t good enough for you,” Elena chided.
“Yeah, but that’s because you wanted me for yourself,” Sera chuckled. “Your motives were hardly altruistic.”
“Guilty—of that, at least,” Elena shrugged.
“At least you got off,” Sera said around another bite of her steak. “I thought they were going to ship you off to the backside of the galaxy—wherever that currently is—for breaking protocol in Scipio and coming for me.”
“Bit by bit, you’re coming out on top of this mess. I think people know that if Andrea loses, you’re going to rise in the ranks—a lot. Sending your best friend away on a suicide mission wouldn’t be advisable.”
“Best friends, is that all we are?” Sera asked. “I thought you wanted to be more?”
“And I thought you needed more headspace,” Elena replied with a smile slowly creeping across her face. “Are you saying that you want to be more now?”
“I think I might be ready for that,” Sera replied. “I mean…it wouldn’t be the first time you and I got romantically entangled. I just feel like our lives are getting more complicated—mine especially—and you may not want to go wherever all this takes me.”
“What, to New Canaan?” Elena asked. “The colonists on the Intrepid seem like good people. I could stand to settle down there for a while—not forever, but a while.”
“What if…what if things didn’t go that way?” Sera asked.
Elena frowned and picked up the glass their waiter had just set down. She peered at Sera over the rim for a minute before taking a sip and setting it down.
“What do you mean by that? There’s something going on, isn’t there?”
Sera shrugged. “I’m honestly not certain. My father…he’s been warmer to me during this than I expected. He’s also distancing himself from Andrea. I think that’s the main reason why things are going my way. People testifying on her behalf are altering their accounts. Not lying, but just choosing words that aren’t flattering to her. Hell, Mark is totally fucked, no one is backing him. No one can even find the order that put him on the ship with Andrea and Serge anymore. A separate investigation is launching to see if he somehow forged the whole thing.”
“So, he’s going to go down for what happened to your unit?” Elena asked.
Sera sighed. “I don’t know. Justin hasn’t formally launched that inquiry yet. There’s some sensitive intelligence there. I think if they can pin enough other stuff on him, they’re going to leave that one alone. I think they are going to charge him with violating Department of Equalization protocols and allowing advanced tech to fall into Inner Stars hands. If they do, I’ll get a commendation for recovering it.”
“Stars, this is all such a shit show. Here’s to being back in Airtha,” Elena raised her glass, and Sera tapped hers against it.
“To Airtha,” she replied.
“By the way, I didn’t fall for your evasion there. If your father is all full of parental adoration, what’s that mean? Is he going to put you in Andrea’s place?”
“Who’s to know? What I do know is that he is either taking advantage of this, or somehow he planned it all out. I think that maybe Andrea was getting too big for her britches. If she gets a reprogramming sentence, maybe he’ll use that to his benefit—make her less of a bitch, and then bring her back in a century or two.”
Elena barked a laugh into the general quiet of the upper-class restaurant, the sound breaking past their light noise barrier, and earning them annoyed looks from several other patrons.
She flushed before speaking. “Do you really think that simple reprogramming can turn Andrea into a person worth the tech it takes to hold her together? I think she’d need a full mental wipe.”
Sera grimaced. Just the thought of a full wipe made her uncomfortable. Use of the technique was uncommon, but it felt so wrong, so draconian. Better to incarcerate or exile someone than to entirely erase who they were, yet still have them live.
“I still have good memories of Andrea,” Sera said. “When I was a kid, she was good to me; she protected me from father’s ire on more than one occasion.”
“Andrea protecting you…that’s hard to picture,” Elena replied.
Sera nodded silently. “To answer your question…if father offered me a role high up in his administration, one where I could effect real change and influence him, yeah, I’d consider it very seriously.”
Elena’s brow knit together and she nodded slowly; Sera wondered what her friend thought. Was she a sellout?
“I can see the concern in your eyes,” Elena said with a smile. “I was just picturing you at all those boring cabinet meetings. I think you’d only last a few months before you were tearing your skin off. But seriously, Sar, you’re not your job. You’re you—and you are someone distinctive, unique, special.”
“Thanks, Elly, that means a lot to me,” Sera replied.
“Plus, you’re one hell of a kinky bitch, and that lights my fire,” Elena said with a laugh.
Sera glanced around at the heads, which turned their way.
“Great, now that’s going to be on all the feeds.”
“Sar, dear, your proclivities stopped being newsworthy long ago. Cat’s kinda out of the bag on that one.”
Sera looked down at her shimmering blue skin. “This really isn’t weird. Hell, colored, shimmering skin is probably more common in the Inner Stars than is staid formality.”
Elena laughed. “That’s the truth. If the tight asses in the Transcend knew what people got up to in the Inner Stars these days, they may just swear off the whole uplift idea.”
A contact came in over the Link, and Sera’s eyes widened as she listened to the message. “My father has summoned me to the Hand HQ. Something big is up.”
Elena threw her drink back. “I’m coming with you.”
Sera nodded. She had no idea what was up, but having backup never hurt.
DIRECTOR
STELLAR DATE: 02.11.8930 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Airtha City
REGION: Airtha, Huygens System, Transcend Interstellar Alliance
The summons was to the Hand’s central headquarters, not the satellite offices in the capitol buildings. They passed through the security checkpoints, and Sera noted how nothing seemed out of place. No elevated conditions were set on the network, and no agents rushed through the halls—beyond what was normal.
Sera and Elena made their way through the agency’s marble halls to Justin’s offices, where the message said they were to go. As they rounded the final turn before the director’s office, a pair of the president’s guards stopped the two women.
“Wait.” One of them held up his hand while the other verified their security tokens. When satisfied, he nodded to the first guard who addressed Sera.
“She stays, you go in.”
Sera looked to Elena, who shrugged and leaned up against the wall, hungrily eyeing the two heavily augmented men.
The double do
ors to Justin’s office stood closed, but Sera pushed them open without knocking.
For a man who heavily influenced the fates of nations and federations in the Inner Stars, Director Justin’s office was spare. It wasn’t stark by any means—the wood paneling on the walls, carefully selected art, and ancient wooden desk were all tasteful and ornate—but it wasn’t enough furniture for the size of the space. It looked as though he had never fully moved in.
But, perhaps he was moving out—the only person in the room with her was the president, seated behind Justin’s desk.
“Father,” Sera said by way of greeting.
“Sera,” he replied with a nod. “Have a seat.”
She saw no reason not to and walked to the desk, where she sat in a relaxed pose, as though being summoned here at night, with the director absent, was perfectly normal.
Her father’s brow furrowed. “Are you naked? I can’t tell.”
“Sort of,” Sera said with a smile. “This skin takes on the shape I choose; it has a lot of utility.”
“Can you shape it to cover you more? I’m not interested in staring at my daughter’s exposed breasts throughout this conversation.”
Sera complied, and her skin filled in to cover her breasts as though she was wearing a tight top. “Better?” she asked.
“Marginally,” her father replied. “Sometimes I regret letting you join The Hand. Your time in the Inner Stars seems to have brought a lasciviousness out in you that did not exist before.”
“I thought you were more evolved than to be distracted by the mere sight of a woman’s breasts. They are, after all, just a particular configuration of cells. Intrinsically, no more or less appropriate than any other configuration of cells,” Sera said with a smile.
“It’s not the sight of your breasts that bothers me. I’ve seen my fair share; it’s the reason why you parade yourself that annoys me. But,” he held up his hand, “I did not summon you here to spar over your fashion choices or who you choose to fuck and in what way you do it.”
The casual strength of his statement caused Sera to involuntarily sit up straighter. “I’m sorry, Father, why did you summon me here? And where is Justin?”
“The answer to those questions is one and the same,” her father replied. “Through the investigation into the order Andrea received to kill Tanis Richards—an order which I did not issue—new evidence has come to light. It is compelling enough that I have suspended him as director of The Hand.”
Her father’s tone was calm and even, as though he were discussing the menu at a restaurant, but the meaning behind his words was clear. He was willing to sacrifice Justin to save Andrea.
“So, Andrea gets off the hook and Justin goes on it?” Sera asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Not entirely,” her father replied. “Andrea’s use of you to carry out that kill order, and the method by which she did it, will still see her do hard time on a penal colony, perhaps even with light reconditioning. Mark will fare better, as he can now claim he acted under her orders, and though he’s little more than human trash, he’ll only go down for the hacking charges.”
“That’s just great,” Sera replied.
“Well, you can proceed with other charges, if you see fit,” her father replied, “in your new role as provisional director of The Hand.”
Sera actively worked to maintain her composure. She expected a lot of things from the meeting with her father, but getting The Hand’s directorship was not one of them.
“Provisional?” she asked.
“Well, the charges against Justin have just been levied. If it turns out that this evidence does not convict him—an outcome which I doubt will occur—then he would be reinstated. Once the trial is out of the way, you will gain the full directorship. It’s an appointed role, after all; I can appoint it to who I choose.”
“So, does Helen approve?” President Tomlinson asked.
“You know her name, do you?” Sera asked. “And yes, as a matter of fact, she does approve.”
“Good. Then, I had best get out of your chair.”
Her father rose and stepped around the desk where he extended his hand. “I’m proud of you, this is a big step for you,” he said as they shook.
“Thank you, Father,” Sera replied.
President Tomlinson walked toward the door but turned before he reached it. “Oh, and Sera, there are a great many things that I know, which you may believe I don’t. You’d do well to keep that mind.”
Before she could reply, he was gone. Sera stood, staring at the door until it cracked open and Elena’s head poked in.
“Sar? Is this for real?”
Sera shook her head to clear the cobwebs from her mind and gave a wan smile. “It looks like it. I’m the Director of the Hand.”
Elena laughed. “Man, when you said this evening that your father may have something in mind for you, this is not what I imagined.”
“Me either,” Sera said with a sigh and leaned back against the desk. “It doesn’t look good for you, though.”
The color drained from Elena’s face.
“What…what do you mean?” she asked.
“Well, I’m going to need someone I can trust in this den of thieves. I’m going make you my personal assistant.”
Elena’s pale face darkened with color and her brow lowered. “You wouldn’t!”
Sera laughed. “No, of course not. How does Chief of Operations sound?”
“Worse!” Elena exclaimed. “What did I do to deserve this?”
“I think it was something about wanting to be in a long-term relationship with me,” Sera grinned.
HERSCHEL
STELLAR DATE: 02.23.8930 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Jutoh City International Airport
REGION: Herschel, Krugenland System, Orion Freedom Alliance
Kent stepped off the bus and looked up at the shuttle resting on the cradle before him. It was a nondescript oval, lined with portholes and a plas window at the nose for the pilots to use if they cared to look outside.
The exterior was scuffed and scarred from a thousand planetary entries, a necessity on a backwater like this where no space elevator existed—nor was ever likely to be built.
Beyond the sleepy spaceport, a stiff wind pulled at a line of trees and a chill crept through Kent’s skin. A storm was on its way. He hoped that it wouldn’t delay the takeoff, though he suspected that wind and rain did not bother grav-drive shuttles, unlike the sub-orbital jet he had ridden in to get to the spaceport. The landing had seen it buffeted by a strong crosswind, and he had worried they would slew off the runway—until he noticed the bored expressions of the flight attendants.
“Don’t stand in the way,” a man said as he pushed past him.
Kent realized he had been gawking and flushed. He glanced around and hiked his rucksack higher on his shoulder before following the other passengers to the shuttle.
It was nothing like the vids he had seen, where a long, enclosed tunnel connected the terminal to the ship. Out here on Herschel, there were only five cradles for shuttles and starships, and these sat on the far end of the combined space and airport, only accessib
le by groundcar or bus.
The people who had settled this world a thousand years ago had opted for a simpler, more agrarian society. What they called salt-of-the-earth living. What that meant to Kent was a life of dirty hands, working under the unrelenting light of the twin suns in Herschel’s sky.
He wanted was to see what lay beyond those two stars, to go out into space and witness the things he had only dreamed of, or seen in vids and holos.
It was why he had joined the Orion Guard.
His parents had railed against him when they learned of his enlistment—his father more than his mother. Even with seven brothers and sisters, his father seemed to think that the farm couldn’t operate without him. Kent didn’t care; the idea of tilling the earth for the rest of his life seemed like a fate worse than death.
His mother tried to convince him to go into one of Herschel’s few cities and take up work there, but that would have been just another form of drudgery. No one on this world wished to advance, to improve themselves. They all were content to exist, rather than thrive.
“Not me,” Kent whispered to himself as he walked up the ramp into the shuttle.
Within, the craft was cleaner and newer-looking, than without. The tan walls were spotless, and an automaton gestured for him to turn left and take a seat in the shuttle’s general cabin. The data on his Link told him he could sit wherever he wished. The craft could seat over a hundred people, but there had been fewer than twenty on the bus.
He made a beeline for a seat near a porthole, anxious to see the transition from Herschel, the only world he knew, into space, the realm of his future. He re-checked his itinerary, worried that something would change and somehow foil his exodus.
However, to his relief, there was no alteration to the scheduled. After a seven-hour layover on Undala Station, the Tremont—the interstellar cruiser that would take him to Rega—would be ready for boarding. Once aboard the cruiser, it would be a four-month trip from Herschel, on the rimward depths of Orion Freedom Alliance space into the core of the Orion worlds.
