by Neal Jones
Kel laughed and leaned closer, lowering her voice. "Your husband is quite famous among his soldiers. He has a very unique personality and style of command. Oh, don't get me wrong, they respect him completely, and he knows how to command a fleet. But...well, let's just say that being a Sh'allanite is only one of his many...quirks." She smiled.
Vatra returned the smile, feeling immense relief at not only making a new friend, but learning that she wasn't the only one who thought her new husband was...well, different.
( 2 )
"You wanted to see me?"
"Brantar! Yes, come in, please." Lieutenant Navarr stood and swiveled the screen of her desk terminal so Varis could see it. "I need your help with something. This man arrived on the station two days ago on a Dagonite liner. Yesterday morning, he was found dead in his guest quarters. According to his ID chip, his name is Harmod Rosa, and his home address is in Rikotha City on Ralor Prime. However, when I contacted the local authorities in Rikotha, they said they had no listing for a Harmod Rosa. When I checked a local directory for the street address on his ID, the only name registered there is a Nancil Kuum. She said she'd never heard of Mister Rosa, and that she's lived at that address for thirty years."
"What was his cause of death?"
"According to the autopsy, heart attack."
"You sound skeptical."
"Doctor Rosenberg said that Mister Rosa was suffering from a type of heart disease that typically affects Ralorian males over the age of seventy-five. According to his ID chip, he's eighty-six. So, yeah, a heart attack is a perfectly reasonable cause of death."
"But..." Varis prompted.
"The fact that his ID appears to be false has me concerned." Navarr motioned to the screen. "There's currently sixty-three people on Ralor Prime with the name Harmod Rosa. None of them match this man's photo. I'm currently running a search that's trying to match his photo to anyone in the planetary directory. So far, no luck."
"Okay," Varis nodded. "But why do you think I would be of any help in this case?"
"I thought maybe you would have some contacts in law enforcement on your homeworld, or maybe someone in the military that might be able to help me identify this man. My gut feeling says this is a homicide, or, at the very least, some form of foul play is involved. Jeff was working DPC-nine the day this guy came aboard, and he said he was acting nervous...maybe even anxious, almost like he was distracted, or in a hurry. That type of behavior usually indicates somebody on the run from something – or someone."
"Well..." J'Soran hesitated. "I haven't been to homeworld in almost twenty years, and I haven't kept in touch with any of my old classmates from the military academy, so..." She shrugged apologetically. "I'm sorry, I don't think I'll be much help with this."
Navarr nodded, dejected. "Well, thanks anyway."
J'Soran turned to go.
As Navarr walked around to sit behind her desk, her terminal beeped, and a new readout appeared on her screen. "Brantar, wait. The computer has found a match in the directory. Harmod Rosa's real name was Korik Moru."
Varis turned back, startled. "Moru?" she echoed.
"Yes. Do you recognize it?"
"No. I mean...I don't know." She frowned, thinking. "It sounds...vaguely familiar. I might have heard it before, but..." She shook her head, frustrated. "Maybe not. Moru is a common Ralorian surname. Maybe I'm thinking of something else."
"There's an address with this name. It's in Anjisald. That's a Ralorian colony, right? Maybe he has relatives there than can explain all this."
"Wouldn't the security scan at the DPC have detected a fake ID chip?" Varis asked.
"According to the forensics team, the chip was fake, but it was a very good forgery. A standard security scan – even one as advanced as ours – would never have detected it. Only after PO Coley put the chip under a microscope did he find the markers that indicated a forgery. Lieutenant Scarvo is following up on that lead as we speak."
Varis nodded, still puzzled. "From what little I know about false ID chips, the really good ones are hard to come by. If Mister Moru went to all that trouble to procure one, it's a logical assumption that he was on the run from someone or something."
"That's what I'm thinking as well." Navarr indicated the readout on her screen. "This looks like part of a personnel directory file, but all it has is a comm code and an address." She tapped a few commands on her keypad, and Varis circled the desk to look over her shoulder. An error message appeared. "The rest of the file is unavailable," Navarr read aloud.
"Try the comm code," Varis suggested.
Navarr activated the link, but another error message appeared. "Damn," she muttered. "It's no longer active."
J'Soran started for the door. "Let me know what you find. I'll try researching Moru's name and see what comes up."
Navarr nodded. "Thank you, brantar."
As Varis left the security office, she walked with her head down, lost in thought. The name Moru tugged at a thread of an old memory, but the more she tried to pull on it, the less she could remember. She shrugged, giving up the struggle for the time being, and made a note in her compad to remind herself to research the name after lunch.
( 3 )
The lunch crowd was starting to thin, and Grax was in the midst of gathering dirty glasses and plates from the bar when his commlink twittered, signaling a personal call coming in on the terminal in his office. He glanced at the readout on the link's display to check the incoming comm code. It was Gunn. "Luke, will you finish up here, please? I have to take this call."
As soon as the door closed behind him, Thalor seized the ASD from his desk drawer and activated it before switching on his terminal and answering the call.
"Hello, Sol."
"Thalor." He hesitated, and his expression told Grax that the news wouldn't be good.
"Just tell me. Whatever it is, I need to know."
Sol nodded. "It's not necessarily bad news. I was able to confirm that someone named Sesrin Grax has been working for Draussen for about five years now. A smuggler, of course. Exactly what she smuggled is unknown."
"Probably drugs, precious metals, chemicals, and/or weapons. Draussen dabbles in a little of everything."
Sol nodded again, scrubbing a hand over his rugged complexion. Something about his demeanor set Grax on edge. Sol had found something else, something that he was afraid to tell his old friend.
"What is it, Sol? What else did you find."
The man hesitated once more, as if debating with himself, and then sighed. "Your friend Tilura was right. Sesrin was last seen on Shel'Belard, but I don't think Tilura is telling you the whole story. According to a former contact of mine who frequents that bar, Sesrin was accompanied by a couple of Indravians...and an Orethian woman. I remembered what she looked like from the one time that I met her, and from what Yolot described, it sounds like her. But, it has been a few years, and there are several Orethian women operating in the Nevala sector. So it might not have been her. I just remember how close the two of you were, so I wasn't sure how you would take this news."
"We're not close anymore," Grax demurred. "Not after the incident on Mr'gss-Gl'nn." He paused, thinking. "How much do you trust Yolot?"
"I haven't been in that sector for over five years now, but I trusted him as much as I did my other contacts. His information has always been pretty accurate."
"I wondered if you were going to mention that you had retired. I assume you didn't say anything last time because you don't want me to know where you're hiding out these days."
Sol nodded, smiling thinly. "Don't take it personal, Thal. You're one of the few from back then that I still trust. But I can't risk giving you my location, not even on a secured channel."
"So that means you're not open to the possibility of helping me track down Sesrin?"
Solomon shook his head. "Don't even ask. I'm sorry, but I was lucky that I got out of that life when I did, and that I got out clean and free. I've kept my ear to the rocks, and as far as
I can tell, no one has a bounty on my head, and there's no outstanding warrants for my arrest anywhere. I can't risk sabotaging that."
Grax leaned forward, pleading. "Sol, I need you! I've been out of the Nevala sector for fifteen years. You've only been out five. Even when Tilura and I were smuggling for Jaegin, I never knew much about Draussen, except to steer clear of him and his people. If Sesrin's mixed up with him, I need someone who's an expert on his organization. You're the only one I knew who had had any dealings with him."
"Thal, I understand that she's your sister, but why do you care so much? It was her choice to start working for Draussen, and she knew the risks. Whatever happens to her is her fault."
"I'm the one who introduced her to that life," Grax interrupted. "It isn't just her fault. If I hadn't invited her to join me and Tilura, she would have stayed on homeworld where she belonged."
"So why didn't she get out when you did fifteen years ago?"
Grax only scowled.
"That's what I thought. You wanted her to get out and come work for you, right? To go legitimate, but she refused. She made her own choice to stay in that sector and work for Draussen. There's nothing you can do about it now. I'm telling you this as your friend, Thal. I know she's family, and I know that you always put more importance on ties of blood than I ever did, but I'm telling you now that if you decided to go back to that sector looking for her, you're going to regret it. You were smart to get out when you did. You've done good for yourself these last few years. Don't jeopardize that success by making this mistake now."
"Thanks for your advice," Grax replied coldly. "Did you learn anything else about Sesrin? About where she might be now?"
Sol shook his head. "I'm sorry, Thal. I can put you in touch with Yolot. The best place to start looking is on Shel'Belard, but I wouldn't trust Tilura. For all you know, she might be working for Draussen too."
"Thanks, Sol. Have a good day." Thalor cut the channel before Gunn could respond. The thought that Tilura had ulterior motives for bringing this news to Grax had already occurred to him. It had kept awake for most of last night, in fact, and now it appeared as if he had no choice but to accept her help. Seething with fury and frustration, he stormed out of his office and informed Luke that he was leaving for the day.
"Sure thing, boss," the bartender said, puzzled, as he watched the Orethian march out the front door and disappear into the crowd on the promenade.
( 4 )
"No, mother, not that one." Larewyn Valayne pushed away the sample of cloth and reached for cream colored swatch buried beneath a lavender one. "I like this shade, maybe a little darker, but not much. It will be a nice contrast with the pink."
Lady Marija made a face as she reached for her tea. "You're far too enamored with the pastel colors, Lare. Your daughter is going to look like a pastry dessert."
"These are the new colors, mother. Everyone's going light this season." She motioned to a pair of servants who were waiting meekly on the far side of the nursery. "What do you think of this pattern for her naming ceremony gown?"
One of the maids held up a dress, and Marija beamed when she saw it. "Yes! Now this is more like it. This shade of blue will be perfect. But it needs something around the hem and the sleeves."
"I was thinking the same thing," Larewyn agreed. "Perhaps some diamonds or crystals. Doesn't Bryern know someone who sells jewelry that can be cut that small?"
"I'm sure he does. I'll talk to him this afternoon. He's on the Cirtrad colony this week buying me some more cloth from the Qee."
"You're not designing another gown, are you?"
"I need one for the naming ceremony. If my first granddaughter is having a new gown made, I think I should have one too." She waved the maidservant back to her customary position in the corner, and then stood. "It's too bad there's only one holoscreen in this room. It shouldn't be that expensive to outfit these other two walls with screens."
"I only want one wall to be a screen, mother. I think I'm going to paint this other one a light blue, and that one over there a sea cream."
Marija motioned to a third servant who was standing close by with a silver tray that held a bottle of amber liquid. She added a dash of the alcohol to her tea and then took a sip. "Much better. What exactly is sea cream?"
"It's a new color that Bryern came up with. He's a brilliant decorator. Just wait until you see what he wants to put up for the border around the ceiling."
"Mmm-hmm," Marija murmured, sipping her tea and watching her daughter. She turned to the servants. "That's all for now, girls. Please wait outside." The trio of handmaids obeyed, and Marija closed the door behind them. "Larewyn," she said, facing her daughter.
The lady empress was examining fabric swatches once more, and she glanced up, startled by her mother's serious tone. "What?"
"Come sit." Marija indicated the love seat that occupied the only other available corner of the large room. The nursery was cluttered with unopened crates and other furniture that had yet to be arranged in their proper place.
"Mother, I'm really not in the mood for another one of your lectures on child-rearing, and how my baby is not going to be any different just because she's royalty."
"No, no, no, I'm done with all that." Marija took her daughter's hand. "I just want to know how you're feeling. You and I haven't had a lot of time lately to really talk."
Larewyn rolled her eyes. "What do you want to know? I'm not having any mood swings yet, if that's what you're asking."
"No. What I'm more concerned with is that you've seemed very...preoccupied lately. You hardly touched any of your dinner last night, and you barely heard a word I said this morning at breakfast."
Larewyn pulled her hand way and stood, though she nearly lost her balance and had to steady herself by putting one hand on the arm of the sofa and the other in the small of her back. "Mother, I'm fine." She walked to the table in the middle of the room that was covered in fabric samples.
Marija sat back and reached for her tea, watching her daughter, and waiting.
After a minute or two, Larewyn sighed and faced her mother. "I hate when you do that."
"Do what?" Marija asked innocently.
Larewyn gave another exasperated sigh and returned to the loveseat. "You obviously think that I'm bothered about something so why don't we skip the guessing game and you just tell me what it is."
"Lare, sweetheart," Marija said as she brushed away errant strands of hair from her daughter's face, "if I knew what it was, I would be happy to skip to the part where I give you my loving advice. But since I don't know, I need you to tell me so I can help you."
Larewyn didn't say anything for a few moments, choosing instead to focus on a loose thread of her right sleeve. Marija waited patiently, and, finally, in a small voice Larewyn said, "He's disappointed that it's not a son."
Marija nodded knowingly and reached for her daughter's hand. "Well, of course he is. All men are that way, not just lord emperors. Is that all that's worrying you?"
Larewyn looked up, fighting to keep her composure, but her lip quivered. "I can see it every time he looks at me. He thinks it's my fault that our firstborn is a girl."
"Larewyn," her mother said firmly. "Look at me. You have nothing to fear. The fact that you are able to bear children at all means that you are worth keeping. Your husband is many things, but he's not stupid. You both are young, and this child is only your first. Now, if this was the fourth daughter, then we would have a problem. But" – she held up a finger to stall her daughter's protest – "we're at least four or five years away from that situation. And that's plenty of time to arrange...alternate solutions. Just in case. Now," she continued sternly, "let's stop this nonsense. I did not raise you to be coward. Even if all you bear him is daughters, that means the next ruler to sit on the throne will be a lady empress, and she won't be the first in the history of the Emperium." Marija gripped Larewyn's shoulders, holding her daughter's gaze. "Do you understand me?"
Larewyn swallowed and
squared her shoulders. "Yes, mother."
"That's better." Marija stood. "I'm hungry. I think we need a snack out on the terrace. You need some fresh air." She helped her daughter to her feet and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "How does some shik sound?"
Larewyn nodded, forcing a smile, and then looked away as her mother called for the handmaids. Later, as she settled into the padded chair on the balcony outside her apartments, she closed her eyes, savoring the late morning breeze as it kissed her pale cheeks.
"Are you tired, Lare?" Marija sailed onto the terrace, interrupting her daughter's moment of serenity.
"No," the lady empress replied, forcing another smile.
"Oh, Lare," Marija sighed, reaching for a cookie. "You're still worried about your baby."
"No, it's not that...it's just –" She shook her head, frustrated. "I thought I would be happier than this!" she finally blurted.
Marija laughed, and her daughter looked at her, shocked. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry. I don't mean to make fun, but I had no idea you were this naïve. Oh, please don't look at me like that." She leaned forward, her expression hardening, and she pointed at Larewyn for emphasis. "Let me tell you something: happiness is for the poor, the lazy, and the ignorant. You and I are none of those things. Happiness is a myth, darling. Life is a struggle, and there will be plenty of time to be happy after we're dead. Right now, we have work to do. Do you know how many women would sell their own children just to be where you are now?"
"Well, not many, I'm sure," Larewyn snapped. "You just informed me a few minutes ago how rare it was that I could bear any children at all."
"Exactly. You are one of a minority, and there is still some threat from the other houses of this court. Not much of a threat, but some. So that means you need to be focused here. Your husband has not completely neglected you. He just has a lot on his mind these days."
Larewyn frowned as she bit into a cookie, and then sighed as she tossed the crescent-shaped remainder back onto the platter. "Yes, I know. I watch the news feeds. That's what worries me even more."
