Free Space

by Sean Danker

  “I can’t walk into the Evagardian consulate, but I can walk around a Free Trade station. I’d have to change my DNA if I wanted to take a trip to imperial space, though.”

  “Then you’re free,” she said, gazing up at me.

  “I could move around before, just not in the most comfortable ways,” I told her. The serving android came by, and I accepted a small cup of tea. “So what have I missed?”

  “Lieutenant Deilani’s been reassigned.”

  I recalled the tall physician. I’d met Deilani when I’d met Salmagard, and she’d been instrumental in our escape from Nidaros. Normally I liked to travel, but that was a planet I didn’t feel a powerful desire to visit again.

  Salmagard had recognized me as Prince Dalton right off. Deilani hadn’t.

  “What’d she get?” I put the cup aside and gave Salmagard my full attention. The shuttle’s overhead chime sounded and the vessel shuddered again—but only for a moment. Perfectly normal, but it got my attention every time.

  “Demenis Affairs,” she said, troubled. “I don’t know the details. Something must have happened. I saw her before I came here, but it seemed like she couldn’t talk about it.”

  I winced. “That’s probably my fault,” I said. “Well, no. It’s her fault. But it’s because of me.”

  “What happened?”

  “She confronted me on Payne Station right after we got off Nidaros. It was in a public space, so while there probably wasn’t audio, it’s on the record that she saw me. She didn’t try to stop me, and that probably put her under suspicion. Remember, everyone that matters thinks I’m one of the bad guys—so being seen with me isn’t a good career move. It’s not too late to back out,” I added.

  Salmagard shook her head. If she’d taken the plunge to come this far, she wouldn’t break it off now. And she wouldn’t be turned from the topic at hand. “Why the reassignment, though? Why not investigate her? Clear her?”

  What was this? Was Salmagard concerned for Deilani? Of course she was. That was how she’d died, after all—buying time for the lieutenant. That was her duty, I supposed, but still. Deilani had been awfully abrasive during that crisis, but Salmagard had no trouble looking past that. She had a big heart.

  “I’m sure they’re investigating her. But she doesn’t know anything. She’ll be all right.”

  “She wasn’t happy. At least, not when they reassigned her. When I saw her just a little while ago, I don’t know. She seemed different.”

  “It was vain of her to come out and gloat at me,” I said. “I’ll take my share of the guilt. She gets the rest. She’s not stupid. She knew that wasn’t a brilliant thing to do.”

  Salmagard smiled slightly. “That does sound like her.” She really was worried.

  “What about Nils? How’s he doing?”

  The ensign had been almost as bad off as Salmagard by the time we got off Nidaros. I’d been about done in by my withdrawal by that point; Deilani had been the only one of us still on her feet.

  “He’s almost out of treatment. He’s on Mikkelgard. A university hospital in the provincial capital. I can’t pronounce it.”

  “Sounds fancy. I hope he gets out soon.”

  Salmagard nodded. My chrono chirped. Grimacing, I took a hypo from my jacket and injected. Salmagard watched, but didn’t say anything. Obviously someone like her could never let anything as vulgar as judgment or disdain show on her face.

  I hesitated, then held up the empty hypo. “It’s an antidote. Look for yourself.”

  “To what?”

  “I’m told it’s called Cleyane Strychnine.”

  “What is it?”

  “Some kind of poison.”

  Her eyes widened.

  I put the hypo away. “Don’t look at me like that. This is part of the reason I can move around freely. I let EI get me.” It had actually taken Evagardian Intelligence a little longer than expected to catch up to me.

  “And they poisoned you?”

  “Actually, they had an android do it remotely, kind of sloppy, but they didn’t actually have any people on-site, so they didn’t have a lot of options. If I pop up, they pretty much have to go at me with whatever they’ve got.” I shrugged. “I had to let my vitals go so they’d be absolutely sure I was dead. They have to confirm these things. I had a guy on tap to revive me. You can buy anything out here. It went pretty smoothly, I think. Since I’m here.” I worked my neck and shoulders. “Now I know how it feels. I guess you do too.”

  She swallowed, then leaned back in her seat. “What if they’d shot you instead of poisoning you?”

  “I like to think I know what to expect from these guys. Now they’ll think I’m out of the picture for a little while.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me straightaway?”

  “I didn’t think the negotiator in you would approve.” Salmagard was a security specialist. Protecting things was her particular area of expertise, so a plan allowing myself to be killed probably wouldn’t strike her as ideal. It was deeply contrary to the worldview the Service had worked hard to indoctrinate her with.

  She licked her lips. “It’s bold.”

  “That’s who you’re spending your leave with,” I said.

  “It’s mandatory downtime. I’ve only just finished my evaluation for Nidaros.”

  “Really? It took this long?” I arched an eyebrow.

  “I died.”

  “I guess they take that pretty seriously. I take it you’re coming through it all right.”

  “More or less. You?”

  I waved a hand. “I’ve had worse.”

  There was a pause. She stared up at me. I kept my eyes on her, though it was making her uncomfortable. She fidgeted a little, looking expectant. “Where are we going?” she asked finally.

  “Why are you asking me? You’re in charge. I’m just a poor kid from Cohengard that you picked up on Nidaros. Because you’re a fan of Prince Dalton and I happen to look like him, I assume.”

  She smiled. “Is that the story?”

  “How else could anyone read it?” I leaned back. “We’re on the way to Imperial Pointe, so I was thinking Red Yonder. But you’re leading. I wouldn’t dream of going against the proper way of things. That would be un-Evagardian.”

  It wasn’t even a flicker. There was surprise on her face—I thought I’d seen it—but it was gone so quickly that I couldn’t be sure.

  “I think I’ve heard of that,” she said slowly.

  “I went there a few times as Dalton. It’s a good time.” I couldn’t help but notice the way she was staring at me. “What? I had to. It was expected of me.”

  “Not that. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. If there’s one thing you’ve got, it’s nerve.” There was a slight coolness there. I actually preferred this side of her, but I hadn’t expected to see it here and now. What had I done wrong?

  “Thanks, I think. Wait,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “You—you’re—I bet you’ve heard all the wrong things about Red Yonder. There’s a little more to it than what you’re thinking about. Yes, there is that, but there’s a lot more.”

  “I’ve heard about the tower.”

  Of course she had. There was nothing imperials loved more than to be appalled by the perceived depravity of galactics. Naturally, when Evagardians heard about Red Yonder, the part they’d remember would be the tower, notorious for its attractions for couples that were, admittedly, a bit over-the-top, but all in good fun.

  I hadn’t actually been planning to take Salmagard there.

  I swallowed. “Like I said—there is that. There’s also more.”

  She wasn’t buying it, though what I was saying was absolutely true.

  “We can go somewhere else.”

  “No.” Her face had become that placid mask again. “Let’s go to Red Yonder.”

  I watc
hed her turn to look out the viewport. I’d already known about Tessa Salmagard’s poise and courage; she had plenty of that.

  But when we’d met on Nidaros, I hadn’t really gotten to see her pride.

  “You’re sure?” I asked with a straight face.

  “Oh, yes,” she replied. “You certainly bring more surprises to the table than my other suitors,” she murmured.

  “You have other suitors?”

  Being asked about it directly seemed to take her aback. She cleared her throat. “Well, yes.”

  “I mean—on the Julian, obviously you do. Do you guys cruise with implants on?”

  “Always.”

  I winced. Being in the Service was already a cloyingly structured environment. Having to deal with that environment while having one’s hormones and reproductive urges suppressed—to me, that just sounded cruel.

  “Oh. Where’s the fun in that?”

  “That’s the actual Service,” she said, a bit sternly.

  “I wouldn’t know anything about that. But spies are people too; we just don’t have any of those rules. So if there’s no fun allowed on the ship, where are the suitors coming from?”

  She sighed. “It’s an issue now because, technically, I’ve been in action. My family’s trying to make the most of it.”

  “Does that increase your value?”

  “Considerably.”

  “So the fact that you’re in the Service and you’ve seen action gives you the edge over the first daughter from the next district, because she’s just spending her time looking gorgeous.”

  Salmagard nodded slowly. “There’s a bit more to it,” she said.

  “I’m sure. Do your suitors know about me? Because I am, technically, an assassin. What if I don’t like competition?”

  She covered her mouth, then rolled her eyes. “I’ve gotten quite a few applications since my revival.”

  “They have to apply to marry you?” These things differed from province to province, planet to planet. No one could know all the customs, and I was curious. “I thought you had to be the one to propose to them.”

  “I do. But they have to petition my family to get invited to functions where they would have the opportunity to meet me,” she said, clearly finding it all distasteful. “There are traditionally some gifts involved.”

  “So they buy their way into these parties. Then they have to find a way to get you interested. Then you go after them.”

  “That’s succinct. More or less. Yes.”

  “You know, normal Evagardian women have the opposite problem. They have to do all the work. You’ve got them lining up.”

  “Yes,” Salmagard said bitterly.

  “Anyone good?”

  She gave me an odd look, as though trying to determine if I was joking.

  “Some new prospects are potentially more advantageous than my previous outlook,” she said slowly, choosing her words carefully. “So you might say that my experiences on Nidaros are proving beneficial to me in that sense. But as I’ve told you before, I’ve never been disposed to those sensibilities.”

  “I don’t think you put it quite that way,” I said.

  “It’s so strange to be sitting here talking to you,” she said.

  “Why? My fifteen minutes are up. You’ll never see me onstage again. I’m just another terrorist now.” That wasn’t what she meant, of course.

  “It all happened so quickly,” she said, staring up at me. “Less than a day. The memories don’t feel real. But you’re really here.”

  “You are a Dalton fan. I knew it.”

  Salmagard went a bit stiff.

  On Nidaros there had been too much going on, too much uncertainty—but here there was no mistaking the way she was looking at me. She wasn’t just surprised to be seeing me, that man she’d met on Nidaros, again; she was coming to grips with sitting next to a galactic celebrity.

  Did she really think she could hide it from me? Or did she want to keep it a secret on principle? Was it supposed to be beneath her to like a galactic entertainer? Not ordinarily, but during wartime, perhaps. And Evagard had recently been at war with the Ganraen Commonwealth, so for the daughter of a family with a tiered bloodline to openly enjoy the music of a Ganraen prince—that might be unfashionable.

  “Yes,” she replied.

  I wasn’t going to press her on it. Better to let it go and change the subject, but I wondered if the detail that she was a fan of Dalton’s had influenced her decision to defend me from Deilani on Nidaros. At the time she’d thought I was really him; she hadn’t known I was a double.

  I smiled. “Where are you from exactly? You’re making me curious when you talk about these suitors. I remember you’re from Old Earth.”

  She gave me a look. “My family’s land is in Morocco. A place called Casablanca.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Africa.”

  “So you’re ninth tier, first daughter—is that land considered desirable?”

  “Very, actually. No estate, though.”

  “So are these guys serious about marrying you, or are they just networking?”

  There had been a time when I’d wished I could be like Salmagard—to come from that kind of family. Many years ago.

  “Some of each. The more prestigious ones just want to establish the connection.” Salmagard was being modest. Or was she? To the boys from her circles, was she anything special?

  “Have they seen your picture?” I asked.

  She cocked her head. “Of course. The data-gathering services would provide that as a matter of course.”

  “Can’t hurt.”

  She gave me a stern look, then turned to look out the window. I picked up my tea and took a sip. I’d gotten glimpses of her bashful side on Nidaros. It wasn’t my favorite side of her, but I didn’t mind it.

  “How long before your mother passes the bloodline to you?”

  “Traditionally after the birth of my first child. But I may not be getting it.”

  “Why?”

  “My sister could be the better choice. I’ve said and done things that have probably jeopardized my candidacy.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as choosing to be here, rather than going home to meet these suitors and remind everyone how committed I am to the responsibilities of taking the Salmagard name into the next tier.”

  I drew back a little. Salmagard spoke softly, as always, but for a moment her voice had gotten terribly cold. No one could hear us, but I wondered if the other passengers hadn’t felt a little chill there.

  “The last time we talked you weren’t quite this militant,” I said.

  “That was before I saw the Julian from the inside.”

  “Not impressed by the best of the best?”

  She shrugged. “I can manage it at home, but if I do become mistress of the bloodline—if I do elevate it—all of this is only going to get worse.”

  Her calm demeanor was so convincing that, until that moment, I hadn’t seen how conflicted she was. It looked like I’d reached out to her at a troubled time. I wondered if that had anything to do with why she was doing something as foolish as accepting my invitation.

  Salmagard was wrestling with a serious personal crisis. It wasn’t my place to weigh in on something like that. Whether she chose to follow her family’s path or strike out on her own—that was up to her.

  But I could take her mind off things for a little while. Perhaps that was what she really needed.

  “You’re out here on your first tour. Your folks have to expect you to want to have some fun.”

  “Some fun,” she repeated. “That’s a bit vague. Yes, to a degree—perhaps. But they know I’m leaving Evagardian space.” She patted her armrest. “What does that look like?”

  “Perfectly ordinary curiosity? Or a shel
tered girl running wild for irresponsible excess and debauchery?”

  She glanced at me, then went back to looking out the window. “That is how they’ll see it.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t realize it was quite that serious.”

  “They won’t pass me over for just this.”

  “You sure you aren’t trying to get your responsibilities pushed on your sister?”

  It took most of the shuttle ride for me to understand that Salmagard was desperately using anything and everything she could think of to hide her nerves. She was daring enough to agree to Red Yonder, and probably to see it through—but just because she was agreeing to everything didn’t mean she wasn’t feeling anxiety about it.

  I’d assumed she was nervous about leaving imperial space, or doing so with someone in my complicated situation, but maybe it was something a little simpler. Maybe she was just shy about being alone with me. After all, we weren’t in any danger this time.

  It was just us.

  Dealing with a crisis came easily to her because she had the best training and good genes, but was she equally well prepared for a romantic getaway? There was more than one kind of self-confidence, after all.

  I was just speculating. She wasn’t an easy read, and, all told, we’d known each other less than a day.

  Imperial Pointe was the first destination in the Free Trade sector that could be reached easily from the Tressgard system, where Salmagard had disembarked from the Julian for her leave. In terms of distance, we were actually traveling a very long way, but the jump route from Tressgard to Free Trade space was so narrow that only special shuttles could make the trip in good time. Any larger ships had to take another route or fly the old-fashioned way, with passengers in sleepers for the three-week journey.

  Our flight lasted a little over an hour.

  Salmagard and I emerged into the Free Trade Tourism Guild’s spacious lobby. The only times I’d ever been to Imperial Pointe had been as Dalton, to visit Red Yonder—one of the late Ganraen prince’s favorite destinations.

  By Free Trade standards, Imperial Pointe was not a large station, but it was still crowded. There were four or five million permanent residents, and another million people passing through at any given time. Its main claim to fame was that it housed one of the larger imperial immigration offices, and was the primary jump point for people who wanted to get from Free Trade space into Evagardian systems quickly. On top of the tourists, there were a lot of wealthy galactic professionals with fresh visas, anxious to charter jump shuttles to imperial destinations.