Delavasi sighed and sank into the high-backed leather chair. “Bloody hell, Michael, this is a disaster. Nobody wants open conflict with the Alliance. Well, maybe a few fire-breathing Parliament back-benchers and some wackos on Caelum who want an excuse to shoot over the border. But nobody who matters wants another war—and the Chairman definitely doesn’t want one. He put a lot of political goodwill on the line in pushing for this Summit.”
Michael frowned. “Could that be what this is about? Perhaps it’s not actually about the Alliance at all, and instead an attempt to discredit the current administration and destabilize the government.”
“Damned if I know. Which is a problem, seeing as I’m the Intelligence Director and thus expected to know the justifications of lunatics and devils. But I do know something isn’t right here. This smells from top to bottom and I need answers. You’ll have all the men you need. Find out what’s going on.”
“Absolutely, sir. The official delegation should be cleared to leave Atlantis in the next few hours. My men on the ground have already begun private interrogations and will continue them during the flight home. Agents are at Mr. Candela’s home now and en route to extended family locations. My best analysts are scouring every aspect of his past for clues as to what might have led to this action.”
He paused to take a sip of his own coffee. “As soon as the delegation arrives we’ll begin whatever extended interrogations are required at HQ. I intend to personally interview the Assistant Trade Director first thing, as he was in charge of planning and staffing.”
Delavasi’s eyes creased, drawn inward by the furrow in his brow. “That still Jaron Nythal?”
“I believe so.”
“Be careful with him. He’s a slippery bastard.”
“…care to elaborate?”
Delavasi kicked his chair away from the desk and slowly spun it around. “A couple of years ago—back when I had your job—we took down a spy network operating in several of the high-profile corporations. They were selling secrets acquired via their ‘special’ access to certain government agencies to the Zelones cartel. Nythal was Corporate Liaison in Trade at the time, and was on the periphery of the scandal. I couldn’t make any allegations stick to him, but he was entirely too smooth for my taste.”
Michael chose his words carefully. “He would need to be fairly smooth to parlay with the corporate bigwigs, wouldn’t he?”
“Without a doubt. Nevertheless, the man was…wrong. I’m just saying be on your toes when you talk to him, and don’t assume you’re getting the whole story merely because he’s on our side.”
“Understood.”
Delavasi stood and grabbed a gray trench coat lying rumpled on the window sill. “Now, lucky me, I get to go tell the Chairman that yes, it appears one of our people did assassinate the bloody Alliance Trade Minister, and no, I don’t have any evidence he can present to the Alliance government to show it was an isolated act by a lone crazy.”
He gave Michael a slightly worn smile as he pulled the coat over his shoulders. “Don’t worry, I’m not throwing you to the wolves. I know you’re all over it, and it will take a little time to get answers—a sentiment which I will also convey to the Chairman.”
“I appreciate the support, sir.”
The first steel-hued rays of sunlight broke across the horizon beyond the office window as he stood and shook the Director’s hand. It was going to be a long day, and probably not the last.
16
SIYANE
METIS NEBULA, UNCHARTED PLANET
* * *
FRESHLY SHOWERED. HAIR PULLED BACK in a ponytail and twisted up out of the way. Clean workpants, pockets empty and ready for use. A fitted shirt that wouldn’t catch on any jagged edges. Grip-soled slip shoes for ease of movement in the narrow spaces of the engineering well.
Her battle armor. For repairing her ship below—and facing the unknown above.
Alex blew out a long breath and scrunched her face up at the mirror. She only hoped her mental preparation equaled the physical prep. She gave a sharp nod to her reflection and headed up the stairs to the main deck.
Her prisoner resembled…well, someone who had crash-landed on a barren planet then spent the night tied up in a utility jump seat. The hint of stubble had graduated to full shadow, tousled locks to a wild shock of curls. But his eyes were unsettlingly bright and alert as he watched her cross the cabin.
She flopped into the cockpit chair, Daemon back in her hand, and regarded him with a critical eye. “So. What am I going to do with you?”
He was ready for her, too. “I’ve been thinking about that. Let me assure you I’m not a threat to you. It’s clear you’re my only ticket off this rather inhospitable world, and as such it is against my interests to harm you. So you can remove the restraints, for one.”
An eyebrow arched. “So you can kill me, dump my body and steal my ship?”
One corner of his mouth curled up; damn that was going to get annoying. “I’m quite certain your ship won’t leave the ground unless you’re piloting it. Every control in here is locked and keyed to you. Further, I imagine the navigation system requires regular interaction with your eVi to function.”
“True enough. But you could hold me hostage and force me to fly you wherever you wanted to go.”
He shrugged within the restraints. “At least you wouldn’t be dead.”
“Very funny. Until we got where we were going.”
His jaw tightened into a rigid line. Before, it hadn’t appeared ‘square’ as such. Now though, she thought she could probably cut a steak with the edges.
The flicker in his eyes hinted he hadn’t meant to display frustration so visibly. She watched as he willed his jaw relaxed. “Why would I want to kill you?”
“Because I know Senecan Intelligence is after something in the Metis Nebula. Because I know what you look like and what you do, and that is a threat to you. Because then you’d have a shiny new ship as bounty.”
His mouth opened, presumably carrying a snap response. Instead of delivering the response though, it closed in silence, then after a pause opened again. “Okay, those are…fairly decent reasons.” He looked at her with what might be mistaken in civilized company for honesty. “But I’m not going to hurt you, especially not when you’re the daughter of an Alliance Admiral. I have no desire to start another war.”
What? He couldn’t possibly….
Of course. He’d have access to the extensive files the Senecan government doubtless maintained on their adversary. Hell, he likely kept the files in his internal data cache and had the tech in his ocular implant to do a retinal scan from at least a meter away. She must have merited a footnote:
Alexis Mallory Solovy: Born October 17, 2286, San Francisco, Earth. Father: Dead Martyr. Mother: Cast-Iron Bitch.
She snorted in mock appreciation. “Neat trick you got there. Still not good enough.”
He exhaled softly. Something akin to disappointment flitted across his face.
“Okay.”
With a flick of his wrist the restraints vanished. He had unlatched the safety harness and stood before she had blinked.
She and the gun were both up in the next blink, her hands clenched tight on the grip. “How did you?”
His hands were in the air, palms open, and he made no move to approach her. The tone of his voice remained scrupulously even. “The web field was DNA-coded to you, obviously. You left behind a strand of hair last night. I used it to create a hack and unlock the web.” His shoulders raised in an exaggerated shrug; freed from the restraints it became a far more expressive motion. “Intelligence? It’s what I do. If it helps, I didn’t get much sleep.”
Her response consisted of an icy glare.
He sighed. “Look, the point is, I could have killed you in your sleep, but I didn’t.”
Her finger only tightened on the gun’s trigger. Her thumb hovered over the stun toggle. “Because you need me to do the repairs and, as you noted, fly the ship.”
“Oh really? I might just shoot you again.”
He glanced around the cabin. “In here? I don’t think so. You’d overload half your systems.”
“You have no idea the kind of—”
In the space of a breath he had crossed the distance separating them and spun her around into a vise grip from behind. Somehow, the gun was out of her hand and in his. He locked her arms between them and raised the gun to her temple.
She was thoroughly disgusted with herself. One, because she had been standing too close to be able to react, even if he had moved ridiculously fast. Two, because she was having to work unexpectedly hard to focus on the gun pressed against her temple rather than the body pressed against her back. Get your head on straight, life-threatening situation here!
His voice resonated low and dangerous at her ear. “Just so we’re very clear. If I want to kill you, I can kill you.”
She growled through gritted teeth in response; she would not show weakness. “Motherfucking Senecan scumbag.”
“I’m flattered. Now, I’m going to—” His grip loosened as he began to move away.
She wrenched an elbow up and slammed it against his forearm. His arm jolted back, and her elbow continued upward to catch his eye socket. Her left leg swept around to knock his feet out—
—he dodged the sweep by a centimeter and rolled out of reach, coming to his feet three meters away with the gun raised.
He smiled at her, and seemed almost amused. “I’m impressed. That was close.”
Her expression was a black hole from which no amusement dared escape. “So what now? You tie me up?”
He bit his lower lip, and a dark flare glimmered in his eyes. “Don’t tempt me.”
Her face screwed up in disbelief. He was making a sexual innuendo while holding her at gunpoint? What did he think this was?
As he stood there though—pointing a gun at her—his expression turned serious. If asked, she’d say it was earnest, even…well, it didn’t matter how it looked.
His voice returned to an even and controlled tenor. “I need you to listen to me very carefully. I need you to hear what I am saying. If you try to hurt me, I will respond in kind. Otherwise, I. am. not. going. to. hurt. you. Not now, not later, not when we get to wherever we go. You have my word.”
He paused for effect then slowly crouched down, his gaze never leaving hers, and set the gun on the floor. He stood up, palms open in submission, and kicked the gun over to her.
Her gaze also did not stray from his while she retrieved the gun and holstered it to her belt. Then she simply stared at him. She didn’t know exactly what she hoped to find. Some sign, any sign, of deceit or artifice maybe, or….
He waited patiently.
It would be counterproductive to spend all morning standing on the deck staring at one another when there was a gaping fissure in the hull in need of repair. She made a snap decision.
For the moment, she would take him for what he appeared to be: a smart man demonstrating a realistic perspective on matters and a healthy self-preservation instinct. For the moment, it reduced the threat he represented to a manageable level.
“If you touch anything, I will kill you.”
He nodded in ready acceptance of the edict.
She exhaled an exaggerated breath, rolled her eyes and strolled past him. “Want some breakfast?”
She contemplated him over a buttered croissant. Having shed the environment suit, he wore a faded slate-hued Henley, soft black utility pants and an air of calm self-assurance. He casually nibbled on a slice of grapefruit, having taken only a single bite of his own croissant.
Puzzled—by more than one thing concerning him, but currently his lack of an appetite—she frowned at him. “I expected you to be hungrier, seeing as you didn’t eat anything last night.”
His lips tweaked up. “I, uh, sort of did eat last night.”
Her eyes widened in indignation as realization dawned. “You didn’t.”
“Forgive me, I really was hungry. After I finally broke the encryption on the restraints, I might have opened a few of the kitchen cabinets until I found the energy bars. And helped myself to a few.”
The idea of him wandering around her ship in the middle of the night, getting into whatever he cared to and probably brandishing his damnable smirk while he did…. Ugh, she wanted to strangle him, and only the likelihood of him killing her for the effort stopped her. It’s only the kitchen, Alex. But it didn’t have to be only the kitchen. And that wasn’t the point.
His expression and demeanor projected an affable, nonthreatening persona. His actions a mere few minutes ago told another story. Her brain struggled to process the discordant information, to reconcile what she knew to be true with the man sitting across the table from her.
“I swear, I should have just shot you again.”
“I know, I touched something. But it was before your warning, so you can’t fairly hold it against me.” He shrugged and traded the grapefruit for the croissant.
“You were physically restrained. I would have thought my wishes had been made clear.” She pinched the bridge of her nose in irritation. “Fine. Whatever. So here’s the deal. I need to keep an eye on you, but I also need to be below doing repairs. Therefo—”
“What damage could I do up here? You know I can’t access any of the controls.”
Her response was a harsh laugh. “If it’s all the same to you, after your magic trick on the restraints—and the fact you spent last night running rampant all over my ship—I’m going to err on the side of caution. I’m sure you understand. Therefore, you’re going to come down to the engineering well with me, sit in the corner and not bother me while I work.”
“Okay.”
“Okay? That’s all I get?”
He relaxed back in the chair and began licking excess butter off his fingers. “I think you’ll find I’m rather easygoing when I’m not tied up.”
“I’ll be sure and remember that—”
It was all she could do to keep from slapping a hand over her mouth. She had been momentarily distracted by…things, and the words had simply slipped out. She stuffed the last of her croissant in her mouth and studied the crumbs adorning her plate, trying to ignore how the statement might have arguably sounded. And it didn’t really, not unless you thought about—no.
Seconds ticked by, and the moment mercifully passed.
She looked up to find him regarding her…mildly? Displaying slight curiosity perhaps? Even bearing a relaxed posture and amiable expression, the intensity of his gaze unnerved her. She gave him a tight smile and busied herself gathering their plates.
She carried the plates to the counter and stowed them in the sanitizer, then glanced back over her shoulder. A splash of water to the face and a hand through the hair had improved his appearance a surprising amount, but had done nothing to remedy the darkening bruise beneath his right eye.
With a quiet sigh she went to a cabinet in the starboard wall. Beneath the medical station was a drawer containing basic first aid supplies; she removed the wrapper on a small gel pad.
“Here.”
He barely looked up in time to catch it before it whacked him in the face. She stifled a cringe.
The pad suspended in the air between two fingers, he tilted his head curiously and raised an eyebrow the tiniest bit.
“For your eye.”
“Ahh.” He chuckled. “You did nail me pretty good.”
She made an effort to not appear amused, though she kind of was. “Stick it on for five minutes and be done with it already. Or don’t. Makes no difference to me.”
17
PANDORA
INDEPENDENT COLONY
* * *
“HEY NOAH, OVER here, man!”
Noah Terrage picked his way through the crowd in the direction of the voice. Twice he had to maneuver past slumped bodies, kids zoned out on head trips and oblivious to the
world around them. Those people who remained upright were shopping, often for the same.
“Dude, you got any Skies?”
He ignored the beggar, other than to surreptitiously nudge him to the left and into the crowd.
The Boulevard was not his favorite place on Pandora. To anyone visiting it for the first time, the name would be taken as an ironic joke. Booths and fabs lined both sides, stacked at least eight deep. The open way through no longer ran down the middle; instead it veered left, then right, in a seemingly random pattern resembling a path of one of the trippers who frequented it. Multi-sensory signs and giant screens blaring out jarring, discordant rhythms jammed the overhead space to entirely obscure Pandora’s rather nice sky.
Yet beneath the chaos did exist an actual boulevard, stretching fifty meters in width and paved with marbled stone. At least, that was the rumor. No one had seen it in thirty years.
So, no, The Boulevard was not his favorite place. Still, occasionally his business necessitated a visit. He didn’t deal in chimerals, but there was a lot more for sale here than merely chimerals. More to the point, there were dealers here who dealt in a lot more than merely chimerals.
He slid in around the storefront to where his contact rested on a lounge stool and leaned in close so as to be heard over the raucous din. “Emilio, my man. How’s business?”
Emilio shook his head, sending long, glittering green braids swooshing through the air. “Same old. Want a beer?”
“Ah, wish I could, but I’m tight on time. Got to gather with a needy client on the Prom in twenty. Next time?” It never hurt to remind Emilio he had a diverse and well-paying clientele.
“I hear ya. Hang on a sec, I’ll get your gear.” Emilio slipped behind the shimmering barrier which separated the ‘store’ front from the supply area, but returned in seconds.
Starshine: Aurora Rising Book One Page 14
