Blood Siren (Chronicles of the Orion Spur Book 1)

by Michael Formichelli

  Sophi touched him on the shoulder. “Perhaps that won’t be necessary. You want to be certain of Zalor’s involvement in your family’s death, and we need to know what his next move is. I’m sure passing a funding bill was only the beginning of his scheme to seize control. There would be outright opposition to him in the Barony if he were to stop with financial power alone. The other barons wouldn’t need Yoji to lead them against him if he started forcing down edicts. Fortunately, Zalor has just thrust the door open for you to find out both things.”

  Cylus and Sable shared an incredulous look.

  “Go along with this betrothal to Pasqualina. Welcome it, reluctantly at first, but with increasing fervor. You must be clever or my father will know, but if we do this just right—”

  “Then we’ll have the advantage of inside intelligence. It’s a clever plan, but too risky,” Sable said.

  Cylus scowled. “How far do you want me to go with this? If I marry her he’ll kill me. Your cause will be—”

  Sophi put a gloved finger on his lips. “You’re not going to marry her. Do everything but that. We have to know what Zalor is going to do next, and you have to know if he is really the person responsible for your family’s slaughter. This is the way. His desire for your wealth will be his undoing.”

  Cylus stared into the darkness of Sophi’s hood for a long time. He could just barely make out her eyes shining with ambition. “This is what you want?”

  “This is what we need, Cy.” She leaned forward and the shadow of her hood moved in towards him. The silk of her robe made a cold halo around his face and he felt her lips against his. Strangely, they felt as cold as her hood.

  Did she really know what she was doing? She was sending him into a dark quagmire in which he might not survive. Sophi was sending him into the arms of another woman, one he had not seen since they were children and did not care to ever again. The things he would have to do—to say. The way he would have to act—

  It would be hell.

  “I can’t do this,” he said.

  “You must, this is an opportunity we cannot waste. We will not get another like it,” she said.

  “Praetor Graves is—” he began.

  “Very good, but not good enough for this. His Abyssian bravado will only get him so far. We need this, Cy. We cannot continue to operate in the void and expect to win. Zalor surrounds himself with artificials. There is no one to bribe. His electronic security technology is too good for us to break. This is the only way to know his mind and find an effective way to stop him from destroying us.” Sophi took both of his hands in hers.

  Cylus looked over to Sable and saw doubt. His friend seemed to struggle with something. His eyes flickered to his half-sister several times and for a moment Cylus had hope. Then Sable shook his head and his face became an unreadable mask of emptiness.

  Cylus’ stomach knotted.

  “For now, I can’t see another way around this. I don’t know how father was going to circumvent Zalor’s plan. His contacts, his mission, died with him.” Sable held his expression still, but there was tension written in his body language.

  Cylus’ shoulders slumped. “Fine. I’ll contact my uncle and let him know I want to meet her, to keep my options open. I’ll tell him Zalor convinced me to look at least.”

  Sophi’s hood nodded. “This is the right thing.”

  Sable’s lips drew thin. He stared at the floor.

  Two bell chimes intruded.

  “Yes?” Sable looked relieved at the distraction.

  “My lord, Praetor Nero Graves is here to see you and your guests,” the disembodied voice from one of Sable’s gate guards said.

  “Send him up,” Sable responded. A clicking sound notified them when the intercom disconnected.

  “Perhaps Praetor Graves has good news?” Cylus said.

  “You’ll still have to go through with the betrothal. We still need you as a spy in their camp,” Sophi said firmly.

  All three of them faced the elevator doors. After a minute a chime sounded and the doors slid smoothly aside. Praetor Graves bowed stiffly and moved into the room. His boot heels clicked as he walked across the marble floor. He stopped a respectful distance from Yoji’s body and bowed again.

  “Baron Mitsugawa, Baron Keltan, Heiress Cronus. Agent Khepria has completed the autopsy scan analysis,” Praetor Graves said.

  Sable glanced at Cylus. “Continue.”

  Praetor Graves cleared his throat. “She found that he died of deceleration trauma and massive internal bleeding. Scans of his blood and tissues came back negative for toxins, however, his system was loaded with an unknown, self-replicating RNA nanomachine that was not in any of either the CSA or Abyssian databanks.”

  “Did it resemble anything that was?” Sophi asked.

  “No, not directly, but Agent Khepria thinks that part of the design looks like the type the VoQuana used in the war fifty years ago. She admits that it’s been so heavily modified that the design alone cannot tie it to the VoQuana directly.” Praetor Graves produced a vial from within his jacket and held it up for them to see. It was filled with a viscous amber liquid.

  Sable gestured for him to come forward and took the vial from him, examining it before returning it to Praetor Graves.

  “I’ll give you a Writ of Audience so you can visit the VoQuana Embassy here on Kosfanter. Find out what you can,” Sable said.

  Praetor Graves bowed stiffly.

  “Is that all Praetor Graves?” Sable asked.

  The Abyssian nodded. “All for now, Baron Mitsugawa. I’ll notify you when I have more.”

  “Good luck, Praetor Graves. You’re a good man, I wish I could employ you myself,” Cylus said.

  The Abyssian cocked his head at Cylus. “Thank you, sir.”

  Sable bowed, and Praetor Graves left the room.

  When he was gone Sophi turned to Cylus. “You’re fond of him. I haven’t seen you that way with anyone but us.”

  “That way? He’s been good to me, and he’s a hard worker. I get the feeling he’s a moral type, and there are few of those left in our galaxy,” Cylus said.

  Sable looked down at his father. “He’s a machine, don’t forget. He has the luxury of being able to be moral. We don’t, Cy. Not as long as there are those of us like Zalor Revenant. He controls thirty-percent of our sovereignty’s wealth, and that number is increasing all the time. That gives him thirty-percent of the government. You don’t get that powerful by being moral. He is meticulous, unscrupulous, and because we are weaker we must be twice as cunning as he is.”

  “Are you trying to convince yourself?” Cylus turned away from the siblings. He didn’t want to think of himself as being like Zalor, or Olivaar, or any of them. It was already bad enough he shared DNA with one of them, he didn’t want to share the mindset as well. It was going to be very, very hard to do what his friends wanted. It shot ice into his gut just to think of it.

  “I’m trying to convince you, Cy. You can’t remain above it. You can’t remain apart from everything forever. When people like us do that, this is what happens.” Sable gestured at his dead father.

  “I’m not like them, and I won’t ever be. I understand the need to do this thing you ask, but I don’t like it and I never will. I won’t let this become part of me.”

  “No one is asking you to,” Sophi said.

  Cylus shook his head. “Just see that you don’t—either of you.”

  It was cooler in the Barony this time. The stench of fish was dampened by the light rain tapping on the building’s domed roof. Cylus closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of it for a few moments before returning his attention to the unpleasant business of the selfish beings around him.

  “It gives me great pleasure, as Speaker of this body, to announce the new official title, and introduce to us our newest member, Baron Mitsugawa Ichiro,” Zalor said from his podium.

  The applause was loudest around Cylus. Aurora, standing beside her sister, had an odd mix of sadness and pride on h
er face. Sophi’s hood was drawn low, and she was not clapping with the others. He surmised she must be scrutinizing the other barons, watching their reactions for signs of potential allies and new enemies as always.

  Baron Revenant held up his hands. When the room was quiet he looked directly at Sable. “And now this brings us to the final matter for the day. Baron Mitsugawa, do you wish to assume your father’s position in relation to the vote on increased military spending?”

  Sable’s eyes narrowed. He slowly rose to his feet and nodded. “I do, Speaker Revenant. I renew the Barony of Shiragawa’s rejection of your proposal.”

  “What a shame. I move we vote on this matter immediately. All in favor?”

  Hephestia leapt from her seat. “Baron Revenant, you cannot call for an oral vote! You must follow procedure.”

  Cylus heard the baron’s creature hissing over the buzzing murmur of agreement from the Cleebian barons.

  Baron Revenant raised an eyebrow. “You are right, of course, Baroness. Trust a Cronus to do the right thing.”

  A light chuckle spread through the crowd.

  Hephestia struck her chin out; the bells in her hair jingled. “You will not run rough-shod over Baron Mitsugawa Yoji’s memory. You will follow procedure.”

  The room quieted.

  Cylus looked at the stern faces of the crowd, some of them staring at the baroness, some at Baron Revenant. There was one pair of eyes doing neither, Baroness Altair’s. She stood out like a buoy in a sea of movement, gazing unwaveringly at the desk before her with a scowl.

  “I suppose I will,” Baron Revenant said as though benevolence and not the rules of the chamber had moved him to acquiesce. His arrogance was amazing.

  Baroness Cronus nodded and sat down.

  “Barons, I move for a vote on the matter at hand. Please examine your terminals carefully and cast your votes,” Baron Revenant said.

  Cylus looked down at his terminal. A large green “Yes” and an equally large red “No” stared back at him. He already knew how it would go, and the futility of opposing Zalor’s wishes here. Without Mitsugawa Yoji to lead the others they would cave. The opposition to the Speaker would be cut down to him, Sable, and Hephestia. A few of the Cleebian barons, those with businesses tied to either Shiragawa or Intelligent Systems, would still vote with them, but the rest would fold. It had been Yoji’s personality that held the alliance against Zalor together. The strength had flowed out of it with Yoji’s blood into the fountain.

  Sophi said that Zalor controlled thirty-percent of the Confederation’s wealth and therefore thirty-percent of the vote here in the Barony. That was what his single vote counted for, power over one third the population of the entire Confederation. His influence was much greater than that. As Cylus sat staring at the shiny silver-plated terminal, he realized that the Premier of the Confederation was just a figurehead. Zalor was right about the Sovereign Council. Its members numbered as many as there were planets in the Confederation, but for what power that gave them they might as well be all playing at politics. They had never really accomplished anything to stop the Barony from doing whatever it wanted. Every representative in the Council depended on Barony money to run their campaigns and get elected on their home worlds. That left only one person in control of the whole of the Confederation. One man who was emperor in all but name, and nothing Cylus or anyone did in the halls of government could stop him.

  He pressed “no.”

  The screen flickered, and the results appeared as they were tallied. The vote was three-hundred thirty to twenty-three. Apparently some of the Cleebian barons felt the need to honor Yoji’s memory. It was as Cylus expected. Yoji had been the last major obstacle in Zalor’s way, and now he was gone.

  Cylus heard a loud sigh from the section beside his. Aurora and Hephestia shook their heads. Hephestia’s bells tolled for them all.

  Sophi leaned over and beckoned Cylus do the same. “It is even more important now for you to do as we discussed. We need eyes and ears as close to him as we can get. It’s going to get worse from now. The treasury will be drained within the year. It will be Zalor’s money that saves the Confederate war effort. He’ll be above reproach, so we must know what goes on before that happens.”

  He nodded, unable to deny her logic in the face of horror on the horizon. In a year the Confederation would belong entirely to a man who viewed everything around him as a plaything to use and throw away. There were dark times ahead, and he wasn’t sure if retreating to his ancestral home would work as it had when his family died. There would be no escaping Zalor’s reach.

  “The motion carries,” Zalor said triumphantly from the Barony floor.

  There was applause.

  Grim faced, the Cronuses rose and headed for the exit. Sable gave Cylus a pointed look and did the same, but Sophi stayed unmoving in her chair. He noted several others leaving, most of them showed the blue skin and three fish-like eyes of Cleebians over their robes. He wondered how they felt about Sable. Did they expect him to carry on in his father’s footsteps?

  He wondered if Sable would.

  Zalor went through the last of the motions of his victory with a grin on his face. There were a few more moments of applause, and then it was over. Cylus remained seated, watching the Barons rise and leave their seats.

  “Now is a good time. Catch Baron Olivaar’s eye and call him over,” Sophi said loud enough to be heard over the tumult, but not loud enough for her voice to carry.

  Cylus sighed and rose to his feet. His uncle was not a small man by any measure. Bloated as a leech after a meal, Hagus Olivaar’s purple-and-red robes were easy to spot.

  Olivaar’s box was across from Cylus’, giving him a clear view from where he stood. Cylus waved his hand shyly at first, and then more vigorously in Olivaar’s direction. The fat baron failed to see him. He was waddling out of his box when a young woman with tightly-curled red tresses falling about her bare, white shoulders tugged on the back of his robe and pointed up at Cylus. Her curving figure filled a red corset with a purple velvet skirt beneath, and had the hammer and star of the Extra-Terrestrial Mining Corporation tattooed on her shoulder.

  “Is that Pasqualina?” Cylus asked. The last time he saw her he hadn’t even grown in his first whisker yet.

  “Yes it is, and before you say it, there is no other way,” Sophi said.

  He sighed again. It wasn’t that she was homely, but he could tell from the way she strode around the ring of Barony boxes, leading her overfilled balloon of a father towards him, that she had lost none of the stereotypical attitude of their class that Cylus hated about her as a child.

  “Well well, Cylus, how strange of you to invite us across the floor like this. Are you finally coming to your senses and rejoining the Mercantile Party? Now that Lord Revenant’s motion has carried it seems prudent.” Baron Olivaar was permeating the air with smugness, and he was choking on it.

  Pasqualina stood a step behind her father in the narrow aisles grinning like a doll. The lanky girl of his youth was now a woman nearly as tall as he was with a slim, modestly curvy build and a long, narrow nose. Her green eyes pricked at Cylus’ skin from above a pair of prominent, high-set cheekbones.

  “Something like that,” Cylus said. He rose stiffly and bowed to his uncle and his cousin.

  He heard Sophi rise behind him. “Baron Revenant made Cy an offer a few days ago.”

  Baron Olivaar looked at Sophi, deep surprise etched on his face. He seemed to notice for the first time that the Cronus box was empty, save for her. “Are you alone?”

  “Unlike my mother and aunt, I can see the future of the Confederation and it will be built with Mercantile hands. After all, we both know who my father is.” Sophi thrust back the hood of her robe and stuck her pointed chin out defiantly. The edge in her gaze made Olivaar and his daughter take a step backwards.

  Cylus nearly choked on his own saliva. What was she doing? They hadn’t discussed this.

  “Not officially, of course, but yes
I remember,” Baron Olivaar said when he had recovered from his shock.

  “You are aware of Zalor’s offer?” Sophi pressed him.

  “For young Cylus here to marry my daughter? The Baron has talked to me about it, of course. It would be a profitable match, but there are some things I take issue with. For example, Cylus, your party affiliation and those dogs you associate with.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Sophi said.

  Pasqualina gave her a hawkish look. Her father, however, seemed like he was about to eat a very large, savory meal.

  Cylus was beginning to think that she had planned this all along, and starting to feel like one of her pawns instead of her lover. Would he still be that as they moved forward? She was the only one he felt he could trust. Would she leave him alone like this with that grinning idiot and his predatory daughter?

  “Well Cylus?” Baron Olivaar’s voice rumbled in Cylus’ chest.

  He felt like he was in a hydraulic press. He licked his lips twice. “If I don’t switch parties, would it be a deal breaker?”

  Olivaar snorted and started to turn away. His daughter looked disappointed, the smile fading from her porcelain face.

  Cylus felt Sophi’s hand smack the back of his head. The blow was hard enough to set his ears ringing.

  “I’ll do it,” he said quickly, and instantly felt guilt like a weight hanging off his neck. He had hoped to maintain his allegiance to the working people as his father had. He wanted to honor the memory of his father and step-mother, but it seemed that it was not to be.

  Baron Olivaar stopped and turned back to him. “Good to hear you’ve come to your senses, or perhaps been persuaded to do so by wiser minds.” He glanced at Sophi. “Either way, it will be good to have you back where you belong. Will you be joining us as well Heir Cronus? It would be quite the coup, wouldn’t it?”

  Cylus turned enough to bring Sophi’s figure into the periphery of his vision. He felt Pasqualina’s eyes stabbing needles into his skin as he did.

  “When the time is right, Baron Olivaar. Unlike Cy here, I lack my own barony to aid your cause as of yet,” Sophi said.