The Fourth Guardian

by Geoff Geauterre

  "What do you think is happening, I-Nald?” his broker replied, smiling and nodding at the passing guests, his lips barely moving as they broker-talked.

  "It's obvious, old friend. The senate, or what's left of it, has succumbed with Amaron and his group in power. That means it won't be long before the whole ball of wax goes into meltdown. People will starve for credits based on solid merchandise. When that happens there will be confiscations left and right. I want to be around to keep smiling."

  "You play a dangerous game, I-Nald."

  "What other game is worth playing?"

  "And your son, have you still no word of him?"

  Doral turned his attention to his wife gesturing from across the floor.

  "No,” he replied, his tone troubled. “And it's not for lack of trying. But whenever I plant someone in a good position to hear what's what, it's no sooner done than they go missing."

  They looked at one another.

  "Rumor has it there are detention camps built in the Delta Aurax quadrant,” the broker said. “And you know what they say about those places. You can't tell a housing complex from a prison."

  Doral sipped distastefully at his drink, nodding to Synthis that he'd join her in a moment.

  "Yes, I've heard something like that,” he admitted sourly. “And I still can't make myself believe it."

  "Believe it, old friend."

  "You do?"

  "I think my son is lying in a cell in one of them now,” replied the stockbroker grimly.

  Doral stumbled. “Your son? But last I heard he was a lieutenant in the Imperials."

  "Was. And that was before this business with the Questioners. Ever since then he'd been stirring up trouble among the troops, demanding the whereabouts of the Light Bearer, demanding to know what all the secrecy was about, demanding to know ... and I think whatever the last demand was, it was one demand too many. I received word he'd been shipped to a mining colony to act as a territorial marshal."

  "I see."

  "I sent a flash gram. There was no return message. My son was not where they said he was."

  The glass in Doral's hand trembled.

  "That's not all. My daughter now faces the same difficulties. She questioned her professors in the university, and one responded by asking questions of her own ... and they both took a leave of absence. Right now, I'm told she's staying with her professor, but between you and me, I think they're hiding out."

  "By the stars!” Doral cursed. “It's happening all over the place because my boy couldn't conform, damn him."

  "Don't take it like that, I-Nald. I think this business with your son was only the top of a dirty mountain, and Amaron has been sitting on that mountain for far too long. He became used to power, and when one single instance happened to challenge his right to it, he and his clique panicked. Of course, that business with the Block of Truth didn't help any, especially now when there are people calling for him to use it himself."

  "You know, of course, talk like that could be thought of as sedition."

  "Is it?” They both chuckled. “When you feel it's time, I would think ill of you not to call on me."

  "I shall."

  "I'll be waiting."

  Doral crossed the floor full of dancers, and polite people nodded to one another, but the murmur of subdued talk was the undertone of every conversation.

  "Well!” Synthis said blisteringly, scratching him across the back of his hand. “You certainly took your time!"

  He looked properly befuddled. “Anything the matter? What?"

  "Would you mind telling me where our personal servants have got to? I swear it was only last week I walked through the gardens here, and there were more people taking care of the plants, than there were plants!"

  "Ah,” he replied. “Did it seem that way to you?"

  "And that's not all!” she complained, getting up a healthy head of steam. “I do not remember hiring them. And where are Shar-Mei's people? You'd think a full squadron of Battle Maidens would stand out, wouldn't you? And where are her mother and father? She promised she'd be getting them to visit, but then she's disappeared herself, and ... what are you shushing at me for?"

  "My dear,” he said, taking her by the arm. “You know how it is. Servants come, and servants go. There's no telling what they're up to. As for Shar-Mei and her people, I'm sure they have better things to do than attend dinner parties. They have their own families, you know, and Shar-Mei hasn't seen hers in over seven years."

  "Doral-I-Nald,” she fumed, pulling away from him and standing tall. “She is my chosen daughter-in-law, as much my family as her own parents are—will you stop shushing me. When I feel like shouting, I will—"

  Her eyes widened when she attempted to push him away, her hand coming into contact with the bulge beneath his jacket.

  "It is against the law,” she whispered. “You're carrying a concealed weapon. Are you out of your mind?"

  "Sometimes the law goes a trifle too far in protecting its author's own designs,” he said grimly. “Sometimes a good law is one that remains tolerant and flexible. Sometimes it is wise to keep oneself limber and aware of his surroundings, don't you think?"

  "What are you saying?"

  He stared into her eyes. “Woman, now that you have asked too many questions, I want you to go into your wardrobe and arm yourself appropriately. Possibly with that emotional piece you used on me earlier. I want you to do that little routine now."

  She swung around and made for her rooms. Things were afoot, and before the night was through, she would find out what was happening.

  A manservant leant over to whisper into Doral's ear and then went to serve some guests who beckoned for more of those delightful snacks going around on trays. A large man in scarlet sequins and cape sidled over to enquire why there were so many undesirables about.

  "Why, my dear NuunSaa,” said Doral with surprise. “I had no idea you were discriminating when it comes to company. Why bother coming to my parties at all, if you feel that way? Or have you forgotten that I am the Light Bearer's father? I'm probably to blame for your patron's troubles, imaginary as they are."

  NuunSaa chuckled good-naturedly. “Not so, my good Doral, not so! Why everyone knows how you love the good things in life. If you didn't, you might have gone the way of so many others of late ... who, er, felt that travel was preferable to conformity."

  "Hmm, you may be right. But by your cloak of office, you aren't here for pleasure. So if not that...?"

  "I come at the behest of the council. They offer thanks for your loyalty. I can't tell you how many times we've held up your good example to others, and having done so, made our own meager efforts tell all the more for that."

  Doral yawned delicately, which made NuunSaa flush.

  "I had no idea my behavior was so important to your masters. Perhaps in the future I should give Amaron a call. Perhaps even draw a commission, eh? What do you think, NuunSaa? Maybe the president himself would shell out precious credits to keep me and mine rolling in wealth?"

  Representative NuunSaa didn't know whether to smile or frown. He wasn't sure if he were being played with, or whether Doral was a clown. There were so many facets to the man.

  "Well,” he replied carefully. “I'm sure remuneration would be possible."

  "My dear fellow!” Doral laughed, clapping the representative on the shoulder and gripping him at the elbow. “Surely you don't think I meant it? Did you think I was serious?"

  "Of course not,” said NuunSaa, dabbing a hankie on a perspiring brow. “But you are a rake."

  "And you're enjoying yourself?"

  "At one of your festivities? How couldn't I?"

  "Let me fill that glass for you!"

  "How kind."

  A manservant appeared out of thin air pouring NuunSaa's favorite beverage. “I don't see the love of your life. I trust she is all right?"

  "Not under arrest yet,” chuckled Doral. “But she's working on it. Why just the other day she tried to murder me i
n my study, and what would I have done then, eh?"

  NuunSaa's smile slipped, again taken unawares.

  "Put her health out of your mind, dear fellow. She's in the pink, truly."

  "But she's not here."

  "Doing things with her hair, I wouldn't wonder. You know how flighty these females are."

  "Quite. Still, there are many of her friends here, and a good number are charming.” He smiled knowingly, tapping the side of a large nose. “I wouldn't mind meeting one or two if I could be introduced."

  "As she herself has come,” said Doral, indicating his wife's reappearance, “nothing would be easier.” They turned and bowed as Synthis smiled, dancing across the floor.

  "My dear NuunSaa,” she exclaimed. “Do you require assistance, and may I be the one to do it? Or would you prefer someone else, one who might better know how to serve those of influence?"

  "My lady,” NuunSaa remonstrated. “You do me an injustice. I wouldn't think of having anyone else assist me, in this, or any other time of need."

  Her smile got wider as she took his arm, and with an imperious gesture, “directed” him as if by a storm of goodwill.

  Doral could not help but grin. He had an idea what she was feeling, and a hint as to what it would cost him in the future.

  A fierce whisper burrowed its way into his ear.

  "Stop impressing yourself with meaningless trifles, and get on with it!"

  "I told you not to bother me unless it's important. The man you want isn't here yet. Be so kind as to lower the volume. My mastoid would be ever so grateful!"

  "Keep your pants on, papa-in-law. When we get our man, and you give the word, we'll crash this silly party and do what we came here to do!"

  "Maim, crush, kill,” he murmured sarcastically. “So nice to know what's become of the females in our ancient family houses."

  "Stow it! We've got other troubles!"

  "What now?"

  "It's coming at you from three o'clock, and it doesn't look happy."

  He swung around, smiling for anyone's benefit, and fought to keep that look upon his face when he saw who it was. An Imperial guard with the gold embroidered double slash in his lapel. An Imperial commander.

  The helm came off as the other bowed formally, and Doral sighed with dismay. Major Sendai.

  "Ah, major,” he greeted, holding out a glass. “Come to take part in the festivities, have you?"

  "Cut the chit-chat, Nald."

  "Dear, dear ... rude from the start, rude to the last. Will you ever grow some manners?"

  "I left over seventeen men at this estate a few days ago to keep watch, and they haven't shown up yet. Nor has their relief watch. I've searched, and I can't find them. Where are they?"

  Doral-I-Nald placed a hand against his chest and looked taken aback. “Where are they? Let me see if I've got this right. My special guards, brought here to ensure the safety of my house, disappear, and then—from what I gather—those sent to relieve them disappear as well, and you have the effrontery to suggest I had something to do with it?"

  Major Sendai stared at him, a tic working at his left eyebrow.

  "Tell me, are you in the habit of insulting your betters, or is it something you work at?"

  He looked at the partygoers and grimaced. “I'm not one of your sycophants, I-Nald. I've asked you a simple question. I want a simple answer. Do you know where my people are, or don't you?"

  "Major Sendai, you are a bore. So I will be as blunt as you like. The last time I saw them, they were drinking on duty. They staggered around and deserted. If you find them, tell them their behavior is atrocious."

  "Is there anything wrong here, gentlemen?” asked NuunSaa, sipping at a light cocktail with two wonderful looking women clinging to each arm. One helped him sip while whispering something naughty in his shell-like ear.

  Major Sendai stiffened to attention.

  "Sir!"

  "Major Sendai?” NuunSaa looked at him wonderingly. “I was looking for you earlier. Where are your men?"

  He licked his lips nervously, his gaze skittering angrily to Doral and then back to his superior. “I believe they're checking the perimeter, sir."

  "Very good,” said NuunSaa. “But from now on I would suggest more visible effort, shall we? Get more men over here."

  "Very good, sir!” said the unhappy Major Sendai.

  He went off as ordered to get more men to cover his earlier losses, and with every step he looked around angrily, trying to find them hiding behind potted plants, curtains, and under the stairwell.

  "Silly fellow covering for his men, like that,” NuunSaa remarked.

  "I didn't want to tell him,” Doral murmured, “but I noted them gone earlier this afternoon. I think ... they might have deserted their stations."

  "Obviously,” summed NuunSaa, tapping his nose. “They're enjoying themselves out of uniform, and that's a no-no."

  Doral reached for a passing tray and offered more drinks and delicacies.

  "Of course it is,” he said casually, wondering how someone in so delicate a position could be so dense. “You must admit, however, that the Imperial commander is looking after them. That kind of loyalty can only be commended. I wouldn't be unkind to him if I could help it."

  NuunSaa sniffed. “I'm afraid I'll note this infraction in his personal record. It will mean another demotion."

  Doral's eyes lifted. “Another?” he asked softly.

  "Oh, some silly little thing,” added the other portentously. “He had caught someone stealing medical supplies from the commissary and let the person go with a warning. Some scamp from the lower-class housings. Even paid for the loss out of pocket, but it wouldn't do to let the scum think they were going to get off."

  "But ... what was his rank before that?"

  "Hmm? Oh, a full colonel in the marines."

  "No."

  "Busted him to major. Thought it would do him good."

  "Quite. And it hasn't?"

  "Obviously not. Letting his men skate about like this. Ah, well. Maybe when he's a captain, eh?” He laughed at the thought of making a career officer into a puppet for a lark.

  The women with him thought it was funny, too. One fingered her necklace strung with unbreakable strangling wire.” He looked at his two charming companions and suggested they enjoy the fireworks from the balcony.

  "So that was Colonel Emanuel Sendai. I thought the major was some cheap brother or something!"

  "You know of him?” he murmured.

  "I'm running it up on the com now ... I was right. He's the same one. Two purple clusters, a bronze, a silver, a platinum. Logistician, field commander authority. A terror for laying traps for pirates and always staying in front of his men in the battle. Yes, we know him."

  "A wolf in sheep's clothing, but apparently, one of the good guys..."

  "Maybe."

  "Keep scanning the guests. Pretty soon the one we want is going to show, and—"

  "Got him!"

  "Where?"

  "How can you miss him? He's the lizard coming in from the garden entrance!"

  Doral shushed her and meandered in the general direction, and sure enough, there was Daan Viil, Shashith sect, of the specus reptilia, non-warrior, diplomatic class. Currently without master, seeking employment, wherever.

  He smiled and extended a hand cordially. “Daan Viil! Over here, my good friend. How nice of you to accept my invitation."

  The inner folds of a pair of reptilian eyes blinked at him curiously. “I was under the impression you consider my kind interlopers, intruders, trespassers, and in general, a bunch of vile scum from the swamp."

  "Now, Daan Viil,” chided Doral. “You know I said that to appease a known xenophobe, and discovering the listening device you planted on me earlier was most unkind. You should have warned me."

  Daan Viil smiled vaporously, fangs flashing in a snarl taken for a chiding look of his own. “Ah, yes. Warning prey. A curious approach to a back-stabbing business. You have a quaint way o
f putting it. Our people are still studying the phenomenon. It is, amongst the peoples of the galaxy, wonderful to do business in that fashion, without feeling so uneasy that your sleep periods are always light, filled with pangs of guilt. Perhaps that is why your kind always smiles. For me and mine, ‘smiling’ is a deadly insult. That is why we don't do it."

  Doral wagged his head in remorse. “Dann Viil, the galaxy lost a great philosopher when your sect's father named you for a diplomatic post. With the least effort, you can put people at their worst. Do you never tire?"

  "Eh?"

  "Here I offer gainful employment, and what is your response? A verbal assault. Thus must I stand in my own house, in the eyes of my own people, without the slightest chance of denying what I am accused of, because the galaxy knows the Shashiith do not lie?"

  "Unearned tribute is another human characteristic. We find that almost as alarming."

  "Am I to be condemned and judged? I am as you see me. Am I not fit for assistance by the ablest of your people? Am I to be cast aside pitilessly and made miserable, knowing my fate? Am I to be so dishonorably maligned in your mind, by your honest hand, when mine is offered in friendship and goodwill?"

  Daan Viil's mouth opened with astonishment.

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  Chapter Ten

  With silver hair flying and fists pounding the desk, Amaron screamed at the sedate man seated before him, and it was amazing to the others that he had yet to flinch.

  "Are you telling me it's impossible?” Amaron yelled in amazement. “For the Silhouettes? I thought you people could do anything!"

  "Well, yes,” the man said quietly, in contrast to the other's tirade. “They can. What I'm talking about are legalities.” He leaned forward, elbows on knees, his uniform blending with the chair, the carpet, and the multiple color forms of the room, until, if one stared long enough, it seemed as if from the neck down he drifted into the pattern and wasn't there.

  "You forget yourself, general,” countered a furious world leader. “It is we who are the law. It is we who are concerned with the keeping of that law, not you. The military are instruments of our will, and in keeping with our due regards...” His eyes narrowed. “I should emphasize who is the authority."