by Cara Bristol
He sighed. “Thank you for understanding. I’m aware your boss thinks I don’t place enough emphasis on security. The galaxy’s safety is paramount to me, but I believe we can safeguard individual rights while allowing individual expression to flourish. Every being can evolve into his, her, or its highest self—but not if we give up on them.”
She eyed the statue of the Malodonian. Benson cared deeply, but she couldn’t set aside the reality of the Malodonians abetting atrocities committed by Lamis-Odg. “How can the galaxy stay safe if individual members intend to do harm?”
“We must continue to reach out to those with whom we disagree to try to show them a better way.”
“How do you do that when they’re trying to kill you? The peoples of the galaxy aren’t attacking Lamis-Odg. Lamis-Odg is attacking them.” Perhaps she shouldn’t debate him, but she did work for the firm responsible for Summit security.
“We must be consistent, persistent, and inclusive,” he said. “Lamis-Odg has been excluded and marginalized since the founding of the AOP. Perhaps, if they had been involved at the outset, and had a voice, the unpleasantness could have been avoided.”
Unpleasantness? Not following the proper protocol to address an alien species created unpleasantness. Planting MEDs, launching guerilla attacks, firing on space stations and freighters, kidnapping and executing hostages amounted to more than unpleasantness. No wonder Carter and this man had differences.
Benson fixed his gaze on her face. “You think I’m naïve,” he said.
She schooled her expression. “Idealistic.”
“I am,” he admitted. He waved his hands. “But, you see? You and I disagree, but we can talk about our differences. If we could all do that, it would be a big start.” He smiled then, his grin engaging and disarming. If she hadn’t been so taken by a certain security firm director, she might have fallen under Benson’s spell. As it was, she could certainly see how his charm and charisma could influence the AOP membership.
“A good beginning,” she agreed. “I think I’m ready to see the general assembly area.”
“Absolutely,” he said. “Come this way.”
Five tiers of console seating ringed the amphitheater oval. In the center of the floor was a large dais. “Do you stand there?” she asked.
“Yes. The platform is raised and lowered and moves around the theater.” He pointed to the consoles in the tiers. “Members use comm screens to vote and place a request to address the assembly. There’s a protocol to follow. Higher-ranking members get higher priority.”
“Who decides that?”
“The AOP-AI. The artificial intelligence unit directs the traffic, but I see the requests on my dais and can override the AI.”
“Why would you override?”
“To be fair to everyone. If many people requested to speak, there might not be enough time for everyone to do so. If only the AOP-AI were involved, lower-ranking ambassadors might never have an opportunity. The newer members of the AOP wouldn’t have a voice. It’s important for everyone to be heard.”
That paralleled his opinion on relations with Malodonia and Lamis-Odg. “If you choose, then why have an AI at all?”
“Because there are too many members for a simple human like me to keep track of. The AI can record and analyze participation much faster than I can,” he explained.
“That makes sense,” she said, and then winced when a sharp stab of pain shot through her head.
“Is something wrong? Are you all right?” Benson’s eyes narrowed with concern.
She rubbed her temple. “I’m fine. A bit of a headache. They come and go.”
“Sit down.” He urged her toward one of the seats. “I’ll call a medtech.” He tapped into his wrist comm unit.
“No, please, don’t!” She grabbed his wrist. “I’m all right. The headache is fading already,” she said truthfully. “Besides, I underwent a complete scan, and they found nothing wrong.”
“You did? When? Where?” His brows drew together. “So much depends on the facility and the supervising physician. I can refer you to the best medical center in the galaxy.”
“Thank you, but I was at a top-notch facility,” she said.
“Which one?”
Too late, she realized she’d stepped onto a slippery slope. She sensed she shouldn’t mention Aym-Sec’s medical capabilities, but Benson’s attempt to help did raise questions. Why did the company have such an installation? Why had she been brought there under blackout? What kind of injuries did employees sustain that they couldn’t be whisked to a regular hospital?
“I have complete confidence in the health assessment I received.” She sidestepped his question and changed the subject. “Would you show me some of the smaller meeting spaces now?” She didn’t need to see those. If everyone was screened before they arrived and went through the weapons detector as they entered Luna Center, additional scanners wouldn’t be required for the offshoot rooms.
Benson escorted her to an antechamber divided into segments. “All the units are pretty much the same. They’re just larger or smaller to accommodate varying group sizes,” he said.
At her request, he showed her a conference hall outfitted with holo and virtual reality stations as well as superluminal communication equipment. He pointed to the FTL modules. “If someone requires approval or guidance from their home world, the faster-than-light comm modules allow them to contact their planet in real time.” He grinned. “Negotiators can’t use time as a stalling technique.”
“I’d love to agree to your terms, ambassador, but the decision isn’t up to me. I’ll contact my home world and get back to you in three months,” she joked.
Benson laughed. “You understand.”
She hoped Mikala had achieved some success in her lobbying. Beth was running out of questions and things to do to keep the secretary general occupied. He was probably running out of patience—though he didn’t seem to be. He’d been so accommodating and charming, acted like he had nothing more important to do than show her around, which couldn’t be the case.
“Maybe we could return to the assembly area, and you could show me how your dais works?” This would be the last request. If she kept him any longer, her delaying tactics would become obvious.
“Perhaps you’d like to take a ride on the dais?”
“I’d love to do that!” she said.
“Let’s go, then.” As they exited, he asked, “How’s your head?”
“All better.”
“Glad to hear it,” he said.
“You’ve been so helpful and gracious to show me around. I can’t thank you enough.”
“Trust me, it’s been one of my more enjoyable tasks. Playing peacemaker and trying to get everyone to reach an agreement isn’t easy. Being secretary general isn’t the glam job most people assume.” He winked.
Beth laughed. She genuinely liked him and felt guilty for the deception, even though it was her job and she’d volunteered for it. His openness had given insight into the decisions Carter had disparaged. She couldn’t disagree with Benson’s motives, which were honest and well-intentioned. Diplomacy might neutralize Lamis-Odg. But, did they have enough time? Carter thought no. Mikala didn’t think so, either. It wasn’t Beth’s place to decide—and, in truth, she was damn glad she wasn’t the one making those life-or-death decisions.
They entered the main assembly area again and headed for the dais.
“When we were first introduced, your name struck a chord with me,” Benson said. “It seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place it. It just came to me. O’Shea is not an uncommon surname, so it’s probably a coincidence, but you’re not any relation to Georgetta and Reuben O’Shea, are you?”
“They’re my…parents.” The lie weighed heavy on her tongue. She wished she could divorce herself from the O’Sheas once and for all.
He rubbed his forehead. “I’m embarrassed, now. I’ve been bragging about how great this facility is
when you’ve seen far grander installations.”
“Don’t be embarrassed.” She touched his arm. “My life was rather…sheltered. There is much I haven’t seen.”
He gave her a sidelong glance. “Sometimes parents have expectations outside our hopes and desires.”
She’d thought she’d spoken without rancor, but one couldn’t rise to the position of secretary general without being able to read people. I’d better be careful what I say.
“From what I’ve heard, the O’Sheas, although Terran citizens, don’t spend much time on Terra,” Benson said. “They have a lot of holdings. You said you’d grown up off world. You must have lived a lot of different places.”
She shook her head. “No, only on the space station. Until this job, I’d never been to Terra.”
Up close, the dais was larger than it had appeared from the upper tiers of the arena. A waist-high transparent barrier encompassed a three-by-two-meter platform. Benson slid the gate open and gestured for her to enter.
He punched some codes into a control panel. “Ready for blastoff?” The dais hummed and slowly rose into the air. The faint noise faded away as it climbed, one tier, two tiers, three tiers. The platform hovered at the fifth tier before moving to the left around the arena. Benson gripped a joystick that had popped out of the console.
“You’re piloting this,” she said.
“For now. I set the control to manual, but I can also key in a certain seat number and let the computer zip right to it.”
“Zip? How fast will this go?”
He chuckled. “Zip is a bit of an exaggeration. We’re not quite at max speed now, but the dais won’t go much faster than this.” His fingers flew over the console, and then he relinquished the controller. “There. The computer will take us for a spin around the arena.”
The dais had almost completed one revolution when Benson pointed. “Our tour is coming to an end.” Carter and Mikala had entered the arena.
He took over the controls and brought the dais to rest at ground level without so much as a bump.
“Did you see everything you wanted to see?” Mikala asked as Beth stepped off.
“Yes, I did. Benson was very informative,” she replied, wondering if the president had gotten her business taken care of. “Thank you so much for the tour—and the ride,” Beth said to him.
“My pleasure,” he replied.
Carter nodded in Mikala’s direction. “If something comes up, you know how to reach me.”
“Will do,” she replied and shook Beth’s hand. “I’m glad I got to meet you.”
“It was an honor to meet you both,” she said sincerely. How often did an ordinary citizen get to chat with the president of Terra United and the secretary general of the Association of Planets?
Benson gestured, and they all turned to see Cornelius heading in their direction with a purposeful stride. “Looks like duty calls.”
“We won’t keep you, then,” Carter replied, and beckoned for Beth to leave.
“I need to get back to work as well,” Mikala said.
The aide reached them. Up close, his face was devoid of expression, yet his body appeared tense as a spring.
Benson frowned. “What is it? What happened?”
The aide’s lips peeled back into a snarl. From a flap in his tunic, he pulled out a photon blaster, and pointed it at Mikala.
Blood drained from the president’s face.
Beth went cold all over. Would he shoot them all? Run. Run. Her body seemed to be made of lead, as if the gravity simulator had been cranked to the highest level. Her feet did not seem to want to move.
She tried to get out of the way, but she tripped and stumbled in front of Mikala.
“No!” Carter shouted.
Cornelius fired. The photon blast hit Beth in the chest.
Tentacles of white-hot agony streamed through her body.
Chapter Eleven
As Beth fell to the floor in convulsions, Carter tackled Cornelius, wrestling for control of the weapon. In his peripheral vision, he saw Vincere hustle Mikala onto the dais and lift off, removing her from harm’s way.
“In-infidel—dog!” Cornelius tried to turn the blaster on Carter.
Bone snapped as he slammed Cornelius’s wrist against the floor. The aide screamed, and the weapon discharged a burst of energy into the air.
Still fighting, the aide flailed with his good hand. Carter deflected the blows and landed a punch. Proximity limited the force, but with his cyborg strength, he broke the man’s jaw.
Beth had gone still. If she was dead…no, no…she couldn’t be… Anger threatened to obliterate self-control, the urge to choke the life out of Cornelius shuddering through him, but he needed the man alive for interrogation. Beth had been hit, but Mikala had been targeted—that meant an attempted political assassination had just occurred.
Beth lay so still. Not dead. Please not dead…
“Who sent you?” He closed his fingers around the aide’s throat. Cornelius’s eyes bulged, and he clawed at Carter’s wrist with his good hand.
“Carter, stop! You’ll kill him!” Vincere shouted.
Beth could be dead, and the secretary general worried about this scum? “Who sent you?” he growled.
Cornelius’s mouth worked, but no sound came out. He began to convulse. Foam bubbled at his lips. A trickle of blood seeped from his eyes.
What the hell? Carter released him and rolled away.
The aide arched, his back bowing at a spine-snapping angle, and then he collapsed, motionless.
He did a quick check for a carotid pulse, but knew before touching him he was gone. “Dead,” he pronounced and leaped over the body to Beth. Please, please, please. Don’t you be dead. He knelt and pressed two fingers to her neck.
The dais lowered to the ground, and Vincere and Mikala ran to them. “Is she…is she…” Mikala asked.
His heart nearly gave out in relief to find the steady thrum of her pulse. “Alive,” he said.
Vincere moved to peer at his aide. “He’s not.”
“I didn’t kill him,” Carter said. He’d wanted to, but he hadn’t.
A paralyzed Beth stared at the domed ceiling. Tears and terror welled in the eyes she couldn’t blink.
Every nerve would be sensitized. He stroked her cheek very gently to avoid adding to her pain. “You’re going to be okay. The photon blast was set to stun. It’s painful, but the effects will wear off.” He’d been shot enough times to know what she was experiencing. White-hot needles stabbing from head to toe. Muscles cramping. Paralysis.
It could have gone tragically worse. He cared about the well-being of all his staff, but Beth mattered more than the rest. Losing her would have devastated him. She wasn’t merely an employee. The epiphany stunned him.
As his human side dealt with his emotions, his analytical cyborg side fired off questions: Why wasn’t she dead? Why had the blaster only been set to stun? Why shoot without intent to kill? Had Cornelius meant to take Mikala hostage? Or had he bungled the assassination by failing to correctly set the photon blaster? And, what had killed Cornelius?
He held Beth’s limp hand. “When you can, squeeze my fingers.” He’d never forgive himself for the harm befalling her. Who would have expected an attack from the secretary general’s staff? Did Vincere screen his people at all?
Beth wasn’t a security officer or an operative. She worked logistics! She never should have come close to danger. What the hell had she been thinking to throw herself in front of Mikala? As soon as she recovered, they would talk. Under no circumstance was she ever to do this again.
Vincere tapped his wrist comm. “I called for a medtech.” He knelt beside Beth. “It’s going to be okay. Help is on the way,” he told her in a soft voice.
Carter would have Swain examine her, but having a medtech check her now was a smart move. Vincere was good for something. Well, two things. He’d reacted swiftly to get Mikala out of
harm’s way. Grudgingly, Carter had to give credit where credit was due.
However, he couldn’t forgive the lax employee screening that had allowed an assassin to get close to Mikala and shoot Beth in the first place.
“I feel responsible,” Vincere said, his voice heavy with regret. “Cornelius worked for me.”
Carter jerked his head at the body. “This is why we need top-level security and airlock-tight background checks on every single Summit attendee.”
“You’re right,” Vincere said.
Carter did a double take, and Mikala dropped her jaw.
“We’ll increase security to the highest possible levels. We must prevent anything like this from happening again.” Vincere pressed his lips together.
Finally, the man got it. Too bad someone had to suffer for it. Carter had opened his mouth to tear into him when Beth squeezed his hand—and the medtech rushed in.
She appeared to be half-Terran, half-Andaluvian. Her features were more or less humanlike except for vertical pupils and the pinkish scales trailing over her bald head and her neck. “Two photon blast victims? I was informed there was one.”
“My aide is dead.” Vincere pointed at Beth. “She’s the priority.”
She crouched at Beth’s side. “I’m Krovac,” she said. “I’m here to help you.” Carter was eyeball-to-alien-eyeball with her, but she peered up at Vincere. “How long ago was she was hit?”
“About five minutes,” Carter answered.
“What was the photon setting?”
Vincere picked up the weapon. “Level two.”
Carter recognized the blaster model right away. Its level one setting would get someone’s attention, two would incapacitate, three would cause irreparable damage, four would kill. The secretary general tucked the blaster into his tunic.
“That’s evidence.” Carter glowered.
“The AOP will conduct a full investigation.”
Considering how the AOP operated, their “investigation” would rank somewhere between inadequate and useless. Should have grabbed the damn weapon myself. Had this been an ordinary crime scene, he would have, but concern had overridden standard operating procedure.
